#on one hand i really appreciate the fact that mundane even shitty parts of life are seen as motivating and wonderful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

androgynousblackbox · 3 years

Note

have you seen the latest RaM episode? I was hoping to see if you had any thoughts about it! I really liked the exploration and the going off the gotdamb rails with the decoys. Also that scene with rick just. dick out and making morty peek at his ass for No actual reason sndhs

Don't forget the fact that his family didn't questioned for a single second that it should be MORTY the one to look into Rick's ass, like there was never anyone else but Morty who should be do it. It was gross, sure, but also such a... "guys would be guys" moment but not in the violent/toxic way but on the silly and unnecesary way, you know? Like Morty called it "punishment" and, sure, nobody wants to be farted into their face, but I can see Rick pulling a similar move on just any friend he feels like pranking to and, on a way, that was kinda wholesome. Okay, so I am going to pour my thoughts about this and the other episode as I usually do here so bear with me: -The fact that Summer IMMEDIATELY picked on what could go wrong about the whole decoy thing, and Rick has to aknowledge that Summer was smarter than this on this regard. This to me is talking again about how Summer IS actually smarter, emotional and socially wise (meaning with interelationships at least), that she could tell that if one Rick thinking he is not a decoy was going to make decoys then of course other Ricks would have the same idea. But Rick never saw this coming because he was only thinking of the decoys as instruments to be used and disposed, even as he was giving them actual personalities and filled their memories with real ones. He never considered they could go on to make their own because, well, they are not This Rick and this Rick is the smartest man in the universe, the guy that unironically think himself to be god, so OBVOUSLY think only HE would be capable of pulling that off. -The fact the immediately after a Rick wins while proclaiming himself "not a man, I am god!" only to be killed by what is essentially JUST A TOY, some little creature that was MEANT to be killed but got pissed when nobody did it. A literal "god" got eliminated for something fucking mundane that didn't even had to do with the main conflict. He doesn't even understand WHY this little dude just killed him, he died with uncertainty, and if that isn't the most human experience ever then I don't know. -With this episode and the first one, I HOPE this season is going to be about desconstructing Rick thinking himself above anything else. I said this before, but I don't trust fans who truly believe Rick is entitled to do anything he wants and be shitty with everyone because he is smart. It seems to be like these two episode literally adressed that kind of attitude by putting Rick on situations where not even he can get out of and revealing he is, in fact, still just a flawed human being. A major criticism that many people have levered against the show is that yes, we know Rick is sad and miserable, but the show still goes out of it's way to keep making him win on anything he wants (most of the time at least) and thus is signaling to the audience the idea that he is always right, that he should be always right, because he has the power to do anything he wants. The very first episode start with Rick about to fucking die with all his regrets ("I am a silly man, a silly old man") and then he is saved BY MORTY. If it wasn't because of Morty being there that would be it, they both would be gone. -The previous season was already descontructing Rick as the patriarch of the house and show how nobody "needs him" on the same way they needed him on the first season. The only character you could argue still gives a fuck about Rick's approval/recognition is Summer, but even then Summer was never submissive and passive like Season One Morty was to Rick, instantly believing anything he said. Plus, we all know that Rick COULD take Summer on all his adventures and she would never complain about it because she doesn't give a fuck about school anyway. But he still insist on taking Morty instead, despite his protests, because he just likes Morty better than Summer and he does not take well with Morty not relying on him. I don't fucking buy the whole "cancelling brain waves" excuse anymore because, come on, there is a million ways in which Rick could circunvent that problem if he wanted to

but he just prefers keep Morty around. -On the first episode Rick literally says "let me deus ex machina out of here". Deus ex machina literally means the hand of god because in ancient greek mythology many plays would have an element of a literal hand coming from the sky to take the characters out of any problem they are in. And it didn't worked! He needed Mr Nimbus to save them. Because he is not fucking god, and the show is finally showing us concrete evidence of this, while Rick is still the only one with this delusion on his head and this delusion is part of his downfall. The whole second episode is nothing else but Rick's ego fucking him in the ass, literally killing him over and over again. -Beth was GREAT rejoicing on Rick's existential crisis and she fucking deserved that moment, I am glad they gave it to her. -The way so many of the decoys decided to react to knowing they were decoys was so amazing. Like yeah, a majority of them decided to be all "oh no, there can only be one", but many other just off themselves because they couldn't handle not being The Original, insisting to the last moment that they MUST be the original because, well, that is what they think, and then other decoys were just ready to accept death because they had accepted there was no other way. -The only wish of Summer to be on the ocean was... so wholesome? Like it made for a beautiful scene in general, but then they dying hand by hand and just happy to be together, Rick apoligizing to Morty because they couldn't make his wish come true, such a good moment. -The fact that all those Ricks made decoys purely out of a sincere desire to protect his family, it's just great. It was still selfish to basically create life with the only purpose of it being destroyed, but it was motivated as another security measure to protect others, not just himself. -The skin wearing Rick on the swamps talking about "a Rick must provide for his family". Ricks CARE about their family so much. -The puppet Smits were so cute, I loved their voices. -THE MUPPET SMITHS. Even if it was nothing but a costume, it was cute and I want them on Pocket Mortys. -This scene is a Call Me By Your Name reference and nobody tells me otherwise:

As I explained on a server: 1. Italian. The movie happens on Italy. 2. Pool. Many crucial scenes include a pool. 3. Age difference. If they just wanted to imply Morty was flirting they could have used just an older teenager, they didn't need a literal hunk that kinda looks like the older character on the movie. 4. THERE IS FUCKING PEACHES ON THE FOREFRONT. If anyone saw Call me by your name, they know they literally fucked a peach at some point and then the love interest EATS IT ANYWAY. And what does it look like the guy Morty is with is eating? PEACHES. 5. Parents are watching and don't give a fuck. 6. I have decided. -Regardless if it's a reference or not, though, is still pretty fucking gay. -I have seen some fans theorizing that the Smith family we see in the end with Space Beth was our own, and at first I thought so too because they are with Space Beth but then I was... wait a minute, ALL Beth decoys knew there was a Space Beth. They went out of their way to show us this by always having Beth being the one who insisted that no decoy had to die, because she knew what was to feel like a copy. When Rick decided to make another family exactly as his own, he also made HIMSELF expendable and interchangeable. We don't need thirty Smith families, the show only needs one and it doesn't matter which one is it as long is one we can recognize. Why couldn't that have been another decoy family that just so happened to want to do a space trip while all the bullshit was happening? I don't think they are ever going to confirm if this was our original Smith family or don't, just like they won't confirm which Beth is the clone, but I personally think it would be fucking hilarious if they were a decoy and Our Rick just died thinking he was a decoy. -Also the way that Space Beth was just casually putting an arm around Morty made me so happy. Considering that Beth is also the mother who prefered to save Summer over Morty when their lives were in danger, I really like the idea that Space Beth sees how much Morty has grown and is proud of him for becoming a badass himself without Rick's help. That is just my headcanon though, but wouldn't be nice to have SOMEONE appreciate Morty? -Finally, but not less important... Rick knew Morty uses a yosemite shirt in order to cum. This man literally knew about the masturbatory habits of his grandson. Rick went as far on his desire to protect his family he used that knowledge for the decoys. He also told Morty to not fuck his double, which is a nice little reference to Morty literally doing that on the comics but also a subtle way to tell us that Morty is definitely Not Straight because, yeah, I am fucking counting selfcest as a form of queerness because regardless of everything else, that is still two identifying male characters fucking. We only need Beth showing attraction to some female character and the entire Smith family would be officially pan/bi.

#rick and morty spoilers #andro is talking

34 notes · View notes

now-im-a-belieber · 3 years

Text

dinner and diatribes

a/n: Hello! I put it off as long as I could but I just HAD to start writing. So, Here it is, my first BoB fic! Any and all feedback is appreciated.

══════════════════

After graduating and settling into the swing of the life you wanted to live, the universe seemed to actively work against you.

You did not get accepted into the college of your dreams. And the underfunded local university you wasted away at was the bane of your existence. You could barely land a job with all the hours you were required to stick to campus, and only made enough money walking dogs and watering plants to pay for tuition and the occasional new outfit.

When you started to see the light at the end of the tunnel, with a few hundred saved away, and some time opening up to find career opportunities, the chatter about war turned from gossip to gospel.

In fact, you'd made it all the way to the opposite side of a fine mahogany desk for your first full fledged interview when your dreams were promptly crushed. The man meant to interview you rushed in with flustered news he'd only just found out himself. He told you the company was shutting down. All the nation's money was being sorted to aid in the war. The president had called for rationing to start.

The man was near tears when he asked you to leave, replacing a goodbye with a hopeful wish you might be able to come back again one day.

You marched home at a loss. And the worst thing of all, was the fact that you didn't seem to have anyone to talk to about it all.

The best of your friends had moved away one by one, well meaning phone calls only coming from a couple now and again. Some weekends you managed a stroll through the park with Janice Dean. And you hadn't missed a single one of Rudy Delacroix's card parties. But the one friend you'd always been able to call upon seemed ever less interested in being a part of your life.

Joe was busy as everyone else, you knew. But when he started canceling long standing plans, and forcing smiles when you skipped up to ask him on a last minute adventure, you realized something must have been very wrong.

Over breakfast you'd prod him for answers. He'd joke about the state of the world and steal what was left on your plate. So, nothing could have been too wrong. Right?

Joe always entertained your random stops by, and offered you drinks and listened to you complain about uni. He’d curse the place and drag you to pubs and sneak you into films and waste hours by the waterfront laughing about nothing with you. He’d go great lengths to help you forget your dreary days, even if just for a moment. But lately you noticed Joe had stopped trading his own complaints- the kind he claimedvno one else would tolerate hearing besides you.

And then… he stopped talking at all. Right when you figured it was time to ask what the hell the matter was. Joe wasn't at his place last you swung by, like you so often did. He didn't come around yours like he so often managed. He didn't answer his phone when you rang, and a real worry sprouted through you when the next time you tried, the line went dead.

And then you did see Joe. At the local grocer. You spotted his profile across the aisle and moved to meet him. And he clearly saw you too. When he did, he moved the other way, and disappeared from the stall all together, leaving you to panic over what you might've said or done to upset him so.

You went about your mundane week with a heavy heart. While you seemed to lose hope in the very near future, the world spiralled out of control outside of your windows. And you had no one to talk to about it. Until Joe's mother called.

"Come round for dinner, won't you love?"

"Of course, ma." You'd been calling the woman by her motherly title since you and Joe first fused at the hip some odd years back. Since then his family had included you in most every occasion they could manage. Until a certain someone up and broke tradition a week or so ago...

"Great! Joe didn't want a big send off but we all know he'll want you to join in the last big family meal before he goes.”

His mother chirped through a sigh that crackled from the other line. And in her all too casual remark lied a clear answer to the impasse you'd been facing.

"He what?" You asked low, through your teeth, with a sense of urgency you'd never felt in life, till now.

"He didn't tell you did he?" Joe's mother seemed to ask less more than she seemed to realize; and before you could think up the right thing to say, you slammed the phone down, grabbed your purse, and flew out the door.

Of course this was happening. How had you failed to realize? You shouldn't have had to realize. Joe should have told you he was shipping out. Everyone seemed to be. But he should have said so. He'd always told you everything. From the embarrassing to the inconsequential, Joe hadn't held back from droning deadly details to you since he'd started. The fact that something this detrimental had been hidden away sent smoke from your ears as you marched toward his family's home.

The windows across the little brick cottage were all opened, the late day breeze blowing you up the porch steps. You traded knocking for bursting in the door. There wasn't time left to waste. And the realization hit you all at once… but you had a mission to complete before becoming all too overwhelmed.

Joe's mother ducked out of way, a tray of warm food in hand. She did not try and stop your storm through the kitchen. The only one you’d taken by surprise was Joe, who turned from the sink with eyes as wide as empty dinner plates.

"You didn't tell me?" You seethed, heading straight for him. Joe started to back away, moving toward the patio doors with his hands held in a pitiful defense.

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry?!"

He kept moving. So you marched after him, out into the yard; shouting all the way asking how the hell he could've kept this from you. How you were supposed to cope with all the worry you’d feel the longer he spent storming the front lines. Asking, flippantly, if he’d tell you what it was all like, or if you’d have to find out from a soldier who'd come knocking to tell the last of Joe’s news.

"I said I'm fuckin' sorry." Joe boomed, stopping near the trees that lined his family's property. You didn’t regret your frantic interrogation but you wished voicing your worst fears of losing him for good hadn’t been what finally got Joe to say something like he meant it.

You halted when he did, stunned to silence. But only for a beat. You watched Joe sigh and bring his hands to his face.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" You pressed, much quieter but with disappointment ever present in your tone. You stepped a little closer, willing your friend to speak up. At least now you could see he was trying too. Joe tossed his head back, and shifted his weight to lean against a dying tree.

"I don't know." He shrugged finally. It wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it was more than you had in awhile.

"I-I guess I didn't know how to." Joe spoke in a tone you'd never quite heard him use before. A terribly hopeless croak.

"Didn't know how to tell me?" You had to laugh a little. All you ever did was tell each other things.

"Didn't know how to leave you." Joe pointed, like it was obvious. You watched his jaw clench as you were baffled into silence once more. But only for a second.

"Well it seems like you've only got one night left to figure out how." You wanted to cry. "Thanks for wasting all the time we could've spent figuring it out together."

You started to turn, only to hide the tears stinging your eyes. But as you stepped aside, Joe wrapped his hand around your wrist and yanked you to face him again.

"I'm an idiot but I am not stupid enough to let you go." He said, still keeping his hold on you.

"I panicked." Joe admitted, speaking softly all of sudden. "And I’m sorry. And I don't ever want anything like that to ever happen again. I won't let it."

You studied Joe and the look on his face and the way his eyes searched yours so easily, so acutely. Part of you wanted to keep shouting, to really drive home how abandoned you’d felt. But you could see how he'd withered under the weight of knowing so. But you couldn't even begin talking about what was meant to happen next... it was all too overwhelming. For as long as you could remember, you'd never not been near one another.

"I wished I never had to find out how shitty a day without you felt. I'll always regret bringing it on.

As your mind raced and your heart ached, your brow furrowed when Joe started to move away from you. His spare hand latched onto your other wrist. And he knelt.

"I didn't mean to leave you out. I never want to again." Joe emphasized each word as he strung them together. And after a long pause he spoke again. "So...marry me?"

You wanted to laugh. A good hearty nausea inducing laugh. You could admit to yourself that over the years, in the very depths of solitude, you'd secretly wished for a moment like this, with Joe. But never in a zillion years, least of all now, had you seen it coming.

You felt Joe's grip tighten as you blinked, bending ever so slightly closer to meet his eye.

"You're fucking crazy." You said, a montage of this week playing through your head.

"Please." Joe desperately whispered. He wasn't begging you to be with him. He was only hoping that the two of you might make your always being together official. How could you say no?

"Yeah. Yes, of course, Joe-" You finally let a small chuckle escape as your tears started to bubble over. And before you'd finished stammering acceptance, Joe sprung to his feet and lifted yours off the ground in a long overdue embrace.

He set you down and caught his breath and you started to lean in with a new, unabashed desire to press yours lips to his. But the guy spoke up with a gasped realization.

"Oh, I have got some good news." He grinned, mischievously. You only rose a brow and waited for the penny to drop.

"I don't leave for a week."

You understood every possibility that came from his news, and found despite every grim reality closing in around the two of you that the future was full of blindingly bright silver linings.

Joe lifted you off the ground again, this time as he moved to start back inside. You bargained for him to put you back down, as he carried you toward the kitchen.

"We're getting married!" Joe called to whoever might've been around to listen.

"That was quick. And just in time for dinner." His mother chirped, as you were returned to solid ground.

"Quick? I've been tryin' to do that since sometime after highschool." Joe pointed, following as you sauntered further in the room, smoothing your clothes and hiding a blush.

"I meant the two of you have spatted longer over the color of the sky." His mother held a whisk your way, while fixing her eyes on her son. "I'm glad you worked this one out in record time."

Joe reached for your hand as you stood, listening best you could, all of your senses entirely preoccupied by the man at your side.

"And have you finally come to this joyous conclusion?" His mother softened, abandoning her dishes to shuffle toward the two of you. She gave out hugs and squeaks of excitement and gasped before taking off around the corner. She beckoned the two of you to follow her, and after a shared chuckle you did.

His mother was stood at the vanity in her room, waving the pair of you in. And after only a second of pilfering through draws, did she pull out a ring. She gave it to Joe and said it was his grandmothers. The spritely woman shot you a beaming wink before creeping out of the door she'd only just invited you into.

Then it was just you and Joe. Like usual. At fucking last.

He said nothing as he reached out to pull you nearer. He bit back a smile as he slid the diamond on your finger. Joe broke your admiration of the thing by placing both his hands on either side of your face. And he kissed you like you always dreamed of being kissed. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back like you always secretly longed to do.

You spent the rest of that night squished between him and his family at the dinner table, like usual. They celebrated your news. And there was very little talk of where Joe was headed. But when he brought up the war and his leaving, he held your hand under the table and you felt the hug of the gold band around your finger and couldn't find reason to worry too much. You’d have time enough for that later. You'd miss him. You already did, a little.

But you'd gotten through the worst yet, and come out of it hand in hand. But before he left, till heaven only knew when, you’d officially and always be together.

#joe liebgott imagine #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott #band of brothers

91 notes · View notes

n0-eyedtaissa · 3 years

Text

Christmas Kids — Ruthie Soh-Peterson x Romeo Fogarty (Serpent Siblings!AU)

A/N: Just a little late Christmas/holiday themed moment about Ruthie and Romeo for @hughstheforcelou! Featuring secret Santas and not-so-secret feelings when Ruthie and Romeo take a break from the family Christmas party.

Word Count: 3,707

Holiday season at the Fogarty household was always a big deal. The Abuelas decorated every available surface with knickknack Santa’s and intricate Christmas village sets that included moving pieces and miniature light fixtures that actually worked. Decorating was a weekend-long event that took all hands on deck. Maria and Atzi sat, watching and instructing as Dante and Fangs brought the big boxes down from the rafters so they could pick through which decorations were deemed worthy of the occasion. Dante was getting frustrated with how indecisive Maria was being, like how she would tell him to put a big box away just to have him cart it back down a few minutes later. When Fangs got on the roof to string the icicle lights, Dante grabbed the ladder and ran off with it so Fangs was stuck up there in the cold until Atzi threatened to whack Dante with her cane if he didn’t get his brother down from there this instant. But because the Abuela’s had scheduled extra time on their decorating agenda (space to either be filled by snacking or arguing), they had predicted that something like this would happen so they found a way to work around the two brawling boys, chastising them and letting them know there was still more work to be done. Maria decided it was smart to let Dante get some of his anger out, so she tells him to set up the nativity scene in the front yard and hands him a mallet. Dante laughs as he goes to town staking the hollow plastic pieces into the dry yellowed grass. When he’s done, he pulls out a cigarette and stops to admire his handiwork, basking in the warm glow of the lights. He exhales sharply, unable to distinguish his cigarette smoke from the warm fog of his breath against the cold air.

Christmas on the Southside of Riverdale was never something that felt unnaturally hopeful: you were born knowing that Santa was too good to be true, and that it was always better to get new socks as a present because they’ll be useful long after any toy. Christmas morning was meager at best, but always appreciated regardless. It was humble, and on the Southside you learn early that there was nothing wrong with being humble. Ruthie had this theory that people like the Abuelas would dress up fancy and decorate their houses with bright colorful items as an attempt to brighten up their way of life, to make even the most mundane things feel exciting, even if they weren’t. Like if they could distract someone with bright lights and sparkly tinsel, everything in the outside world wouldn’t feel so shitty by comparison. It still seemed to be working on Sweet Pea and Fangs, but Ruthie had outgrown the sugar-rich feeling of artificial Christmas cheer. Things felt forced this year, though no one could put a finger on why. It felt like the first breath of fresh air that anyone had in a while, but it would prove to be the last breath of fresh air they’d be able to take for the time coming.

When she thinks no one is looking, Ruthie slinks out of the living room and into the Fogarty’s garage in order to sneak out the side door. She makes her way outside unscathed, it was the part of the evening in which everyone was either too full, too buzzed, or too hopped up on sugar. Dante was leaning back in the reclining chair, one hand resting on his stomach from eating one tamale too many. Sweet Pea and Fangs were laying under the Christmas tree playing with the new Lego set Fangs got, looking over their shoulders and snickering as they listened to the Abuelas as they belted along to old Christmas records. It was the perfect diversion tactic. Ruthie shivers as the late December wind picks up, but she’s had enough peppermint Schnapps where she can try her best to pretend that the cold doesn’t bother her as much as it does. She pulls her pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of the dress Atzi made her, but before she can light it a voice pops up from over her shoulder.

“Trying to get away from us already, Shorty?” Ruthie looks up and finds none other than Romeo Fogarty standing in the doorway. He smiles and steps out into the cold, rubbing his hands together.

Ruthie fumbles to light her cigarette and she hopes that Romeo doesn’t notice.

“I just needed a breather, I guess”

Romeo nods, “I feel that.” The two of them stand next to each other quietly in the side yard, the sound of laughter trickling from the windows as everyone inside got their second wind of energy. Neither one of them talk for a little, and neither one of them have a problem with it. It’s always Romeo that breaks the silence, though.

“So do you know who had you for Secret Santa?” The wind picks up and blows loose leaves over the concrete and stirs Ruthie’s hair around her shoulders. Romeo looks over at her and her bare arms starts shrugging off his cardigan before she could say no. Ruthie tries to scowl at him but she knows it’s no use.

“Of course I do,” She laughs “I know who everyone has….And I think I know what everyone got, too” She raises a conspiratorial eyebrow at Romeo as she flicks away her cigarette ash.

“Well, now you’re speakin’ my language!” Romeo laughs, giving Ruthie a nudge in hopes that she’ll divulge some details.

“I’m not telling you shit” She nudges him back and tosses her cigarette on the ground.

“That means you have me, huh Shorty? Am I gonna like my present?” He teases. She shakes her head at him.

Ruthie can’t help but laugh, knowing that Dante had been pestering her about the same thing as well, earlier that evening. Once Maria and Atzi finally declared the Christmas party was over, Ruthie, Romeo, Dante, CD, and Spyder were all planning on heading over to the Soh-Peterson household for their own kind of after party. When the topic of doing a Secret Santa gift exchange came up, Ruthie really didn’t think anyone would follow through with the idea but they did. Earlier that month they had drawn little slips of paper out of one of CD’s old hats, each one with a name on it. She coordinated all of it. She was Spyder’s secret Santa, he was Dante’s, Dante was Romeo’s secret Santa, CD was Ruthie’s, and Romeo was CD’s. And ever since then, Ruthie had been getting pestered with questions by her friends: Do you think he’s gonna like this? What should I get him? What do you even like? For a group of friends that had known each other for years, they were all rather unobservant.

“My lips are sealed for another handful of hours”

Romeo sighs with fake defeat and pulls a joint from behind his ear, where he always put it for safe keeping. He lights it and inhales, the smoke engulfing the shoddily rolled paper. Ruthie watches the smoke seep from the gap between Romeo’s lips, how he blew out small little smoke rings that got carried away on the cold breeze. She puts out her hand out to take the joint but Romeo smiles and leans away. “You’re not gonna get any of this until you tell me some shit”

Ruthie laughs loudly at his persistence and weighs her options. She knows that she’d have no problem divulging any secrets to Romeo, but she also knows that Dante and the rest of her friends took this Secret Santa business very seriously and would be upset that she let Romeo get a leg up in the game. So she does what she’s learn to do best and compromises the best way she can.

“I’m not your Secret Santa, I’m Spyder’s” Ruthie lets it slip and only feels a little bit bad about doing it. “He finally got the speakers in his car fixed so I made him a mix CD for the first time we all go out driving again.” She looks up at Romeo and sees an emotion on his face that looks a little bit like jealousy.

“Well, I’m sure he’s gonna like that, Shorty” Romeo nods curtly and hands the joint over to Ruthie.

Something about his words feel too harsh, heavy with the weight of something not understood fully enough to be well communicated. Ruthie wraps her sweater — Romeo’s sweater— tighter around herself and crosses her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling a lot smaller, like she had done something wrong. She wonders of she’s just already paranoid from the weed, tells herself that she’s being silly and reading into things and nothing was wrong at all. She inhales a big lungful of smoke and tries to act like she doesn’t have to cough when she hands it back to Romeo.

“Yeah he’ll probably like his present, but I’m not too sure you’ll like yours…” Ruthie smirks over at Romeo, trying to probe past the tension that might have been present. She leans closer towards him, opens herself up to him more. Romeo seems to pick up on the shift and smiles down at her.

“What’re my odds?” He winces in preparation.

“About 50-50, I’d say” Ruthie blows a cloud of smoke upwards “You know Dante’s really hit or miss with gifts” She bites at her lip as she divulges that little piece of information, hoping that it might make up for earlier. Romeo laughs and starts nodding in agreement.

There’s some sort of a commotion from inside that brings them back to reality, popping the little bubble of privacy they were able to have for a brief moment. Dante’s voice pipes up loudly and Ruthie guessed that meant Spyder and CD had finally arrived, or that he had finally slept off his food coma. The door that leads from the house into the garage opens and Dante ducks out, grabbing a six-pack of beers from the outside refrigerator before heading outside. “Nah man, I dunno where either one of them ran off to” Dante says, unaware of the fact that Ruthie and Romeo were only a few feet away, just outside of the side door and unseen in the shadows. When the coast is clear the pair break out laughing at their friend’s obliviousness. Now they had a secret just the two of them could keep.

“Guess we should be getting back inside, huh?” Ruthie scuffs the toe of one of her hightop against the handprints that were pressed into the cement ground, not really wanting to meet Romeo’s eye. She feels a little bit deflated, like this was a moment that was hers for the taking yet she didn’t know what to do with it.

Romeo takes a short pull from what’s left of the joint and hands it over to Ruthie one last time. “Nah, I’ll go inside and start corralling those idiots so we can do presents. You kill that joint and then come and join us, you probably need that shit more than I do, any ways.”

“You’re probably right…” She smirks.

“I’m gonna head inside now” Romeo adds, somewhat awkwardly. “You just finish taking your breather, Shorty, don’t even worry about those guys.”

“Why thank you, Romeo” Ruthie rolls her eyes but she smiles afterward, laughs at this unnamed thing they were both experiencing.

“You ain’t gotta thank me” Romeo adds, turning on his heels and starting to walk back through the garage before stopping abruptly. “You look nice tonight by the way…pretty” He tacks the word onto the end of his sentence like it’s a nervous afterthought. He looks at Ruthie in her hand-sewn party dress (made from the green velvet that Atzi got from the fabric store for a great bargain), his own sweater dwarfing her skinny frame, sees the hole in her tights her uneven socks, and her beat-up hightop sneakers. And he thinks, ‘Wow…’ He had meant what he said. He thought Ruthie was one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. Hell, he hadn’t seen all that many girls but right then and there he knew that she would top every one of them.

She looks over at Romeo, half flattered and half confused, like she was waiting for a punch line that made her the butt of the joke. “Thank you” She says. “You know, in the entire year or so that I’ve known you, I don’t think you’ve ever called me pretty.” She tries to laugh off her discomfort but Romeo picks up on it easily.

“I mean it” He rebukes, wanting her to realize that he meant what he said because it was true. “But I guess for you to know that, I gotta tell you more often, huh Shorty?” His playful confidence is back again. Same Romeo, charming as ever, but now Ruthie knew that he liked her, and she thought that maybe she could like him to, or that maybe she had liked him this whole time and now she just had a better word to describe what she was feeling.

“Guess so” She smiles through a cloud of smoke, meeting Romeo’s eye one last time before he retreated inside to start gathering up everyone for their secret Santa gift exchange and getting their after-party started. Ruthie lingers for another few moments in the dark, stomping out the joint on the concrete and putting the roach in her pocket. She pushes her thick hair out of her face and sighs, butterflies bounding in her stomach every time she heard the echo of Romeo’s words in her ears, I mean it. She feels her cheeks get hot and goes to rush inside knowing that by now there was no way that her friends didn’t realize she’d been unaccounted for. She waits to sneak back inside until she hears an uproar of CD’s loud laughter, hoping that her return would go unnoticed if the boys were already distracted.

“Where ya been, Ruthless!” CD’s already drunk when he runs up to hug her, his frame feeling heavy and unsteady. “Dante told me you Houdini’d and he’d been looking everywhere for you”

Ruthie rolls her eyes and can’t help but laugh. “He would’ve had a lot easier of a time finding me if he bothered to get his lazy ass up out of Maria’s chair!” Last time she saw Dante, he was taking a nap with his belt undone and his dress pants unbuttoned.

Dante flips her the bird but still hands her a beer, and soon everyone is getting ready to head back over to Ruthie’s for the gift exchange. The Abuela’s make sure that the kids leave with a Tupperware dish full of tamales and the first thing Spyder does once Ruthie unlocks the front door is head over to the microwave (like he usually does). Romeo pours up a round of shots for everyone and Ruthie drinks both hers and CD’s too. He stares at her with wide eyes when she drinks both down without even flinching and Ruthie laughs, giving him a wink that wasn’t at ass as smooth as she hoped it was. The five of them drink more and a heated debate breaks out between CD and Spyder about whether or not it’s sacrilegious to roll a cross-joint on Christmas. They all argue while trying to find a Christmas movie that they could all actually agree on (Home Alone 2, of course), but they spend too much time talking about their respective awkward interactions with distant family to even really pay all that much attention to it in the first place. Dante starts getting impatient (because he always was impatient) and decided that gifts needed to be doled out at that very moment. He hops up from the couch quickly

Ruthie handed Spyder a jewel case with a mix cd covered in sharpie doodles. She hand drew the cover art and wrote all the names of the tracks in her nicest handwriting. “Cause you got your speakers back, I figured you needed some good music.” Spyder puts his hand on her shoulder and gives a tender squeeze, the closest thing one might get to a hug from him.

Spyder hands Dante a cross-joint and a lighter in a ziplock bag. Turns out he was rolling up Dante’s present that whole time. “It’s the gift that keeps on giving, you know?”

CD gets a big mason jar filled with his favorite sour candy from the bodega. He gets so emotional that Romeo remembered all of his favorites that he just about sheds a tear. He watches the candy jar like a hawk for the rest of the evening, a protective hand sitting on the lid at all times.

CD tries to juggle three packs of fancy cigarettes that he knew Ruthie liked to buy from Ignacio’s, ends up tossing them to her one by one. “Nearly risked my life to get this shit” He laughs, launching into an animated story about his attempts and Ruthie tucks her feet up under herself, getting comfortable and unwrapping the plastic from around one of the packets.

Last but never least was Romeo. Now Dante wasn’t always the most sentimental, he’d always say that he was shitty at gift-giving, but Romeo was his cousin and he was having a rough time so Dante wanted to do something nice for him. “If you don’t like it, blame Ruthie cause she was the one who helped me pick it out.” He laughs somewhat awkwardly as he handed Romeo his gift. Tearing away at the newspaper, Romeo reveals the small red leather-bound journal and runs his fingers over the spine. “Thank you” Romeo replies, and Ruthie knows it’s aimed at her more than it is Dante.

Christmas on the Southside was humble, but more often then not the small gifts shared among family and close friends were what always meant the most. A small recognition, a nod towards the gratifying ordeal of being understood by those worthy enough to be close to you. The five of them — Ruthie, Dante, Spyder, CD, and Romeo, knew more about the others than most of the outside world would ever. They knew each others strengths, weaknesses, knew each other well enough to see something and say hey, this made me think of you. They all liked their small gifts more than they would let on. CD shares his candy with his friends, but makes sure that he had enough saved for later. Dante never had a problem sharing his weed, he was sitting back in the big comfy chair and laughing at the end of Home Alone. Ruthie would always share her cigarettes, and never minded all that much when CD launched into one of his many animated stories about the situations only he could find himself in. Spyder knew that next time they went out driving, they had a soundtrack to yell and scream with the windows down, and Romeo could write all about it in his journal, cataloguing the best and the worst and understanding that growing up was hard and the world was cruel, but it was always sweeter when you had good friends by your side.

They let the movie credits roll and they pass around what was left of Dante’s Christmas present. Ruthie doles out glasses of water and painkillers in preparation for the morning. She takes CD’s sticky sugar-covered hand out of his half-empty candy jar and puts a blanket over Dante as he snored. Thinking that everyone was probably asleep by now, Ruthie hikes herself up onto the kitchen counter and opens the window, pulling the white ceramic ashtray from its spot inside of the cabinet. She lights one of her fancy new cigarettes and resists the urge to pull at the too-high collar of the dress that Atzi made her. She blows a thin stream of smoke towards the window and takes a big sip off the discarded bottle of cheap tequila that Spyder brought from home. There’s a creak from the other end of the house and Ruthie snaps her head to attention.

“Can’t sleep?” Romeo asks, rubbing his glassy eyes as he filled a chipped mug full of tap water from the sink. He pushes himself onto the counter next to Ruthie and scoots close to her so that their knees are touching. He takes a big sip of water and offers her some.

“Haven’t got around to trying” She takes the water from his hands and finishes it.

“I feel that” He echoes his words from earlier that evening and suddenly it’s like they’re back outside at the Fogarty’s house again, hiding and smoking in the side yard and trying to navigate their feelings in a way that didn’t seem so scary. Ruthie leans her head down slowly until it comes to rest on Romeo’s shoulder and both of them try hard to pretend like they’re not completely breathless. His skinny fingers play with the ends of her hair and she hums contentedly.

“So did you like your present?” Ruthie asked, her voice tickling Romeo’s ear.

“I loved it” He replies with the same forceful certainty as before. I mean it. I loved it. Like he always wanted to make sure that Ruthie knew that he was serious and to be believed.

“Merry Christmas, Romeo” She whispers into the dark expanse of the kitchen. She can smell his cheap aftershave, can feel the vein in his neck pounding nervously after this bout of newfound contact.

“Merry Christmas, Shorty” He mumbles into her hair, smelling the floral perfume of her shampoo. The two of them sit like that for a few quiet minutes, with Ruthie’s head on Romeo’s shoulder. His hand rests on one of her knees, his thumb tracing around one of the rips in her tights. Ruthie laces her fingers with Romeo’s and slides off of the kitchen counter, leading him down the hallways and towards her bedroom.

#serpent siblings au #oc: ruthie soh peterson #lou's ocs #lou's oc: romeo fogarty #ruthie x romeo #little brother! sweet pea #little brother!fang fogarty #southside serpents au #southside serpents #riverdale oc

17 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Pride and Prejudice

TITLE: Pride and Prejudice CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 51 AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths. RATING: Mature NOTES/WARNINGS: Forced Marriage, not all fun and games. My first real step back into the Loki scene in over a year.

I literally have this written with over a week and just as a tab on my computer but I suffer from ITS, Idiotic Thoughts Syndrome which makes me really mentally weird and my mind tells me no one likes my stuff, I just had a few people message me over the last day about this telling me they love it which forced me to feel like I am letting them down if I don’t post it which, by the way, is sometimes the best way to motivate my shitty ass, so yeah, it needs saying, if you like this, please let me know, it actually gets me to upload new chapters. I have some written, so…yeah.

Tags - @skulliebythesea @asimovethroughthisworld @blackcherry26-blog @we-shadowhunter2901

Ella watched her parents’ faces for their reaction, both were worryingly neutral.

“Are you even physically able to healthily carry a child so soon after everything?” Frigga asked worriedly.

“He is perfectly healthy, his seidr interacts with mine. I have checked his growth throughout with mine, he is perfectly healthy, perhaps even a little big for a first child. He has more of the Aesir side of his genes build.” Ella was proud to declare.

Loki frowned slightly. He didn’t realise she had been noting such in their son. He thought of the lithe natural physique of the Jotnar, he had never thought that adding a different type of physique to the genes would alter the appearance of their child. He thought of how it would alter how their child would look. He clearly would have Jotnar markings, he also preferred the cold. Loki didn’t know if his son’s skin would be the same as his, but if he was robustly built as Thor and Odin were, it would be interesting. He did not know what to think about that.

“He?” Frigga frowned. “How could you know that?” “Mother, you are an incredible seidr wielder but you never really pushed yourself as much as you should.”

Frigga frowned at her daughter’s words. She looked over at Odin, startled by his knowing face. “You knew this?” In truth, Frigga was slightly hurt that Ella had not informed her of this news earlier.

“I suspected such when sensed it through Gungnir. It...He has a different wave to Ella. I don’t think he will be as powerful but he most certainly has seidr of his own.” There was clear pride in Odin’s face for both being right in his suspicions and at knowing his grandchild was showing blatant Odin-line attributes.

Frigga could not argue that. She thought their daughter had informed Odin and not her, which had hurt her deeply. Seeing that instead, it was the use of Gungnir that made him suspect it, she was no longer as hurt. When she looked at Ella again, she could see her daughter seemed somewhat unsure of what to think of their reaction, the manner that Loki was looking at Ella telling her that he too was uncertain as what to think and wondering if he should try to comfort her in some manner. It was clear that the two young royals were confused by such a reaction. She swallowed slightly. “This is, of course, wonderful news.” Ella looked at her mother with scepticism blatant in her features. “My concern is for your health, it was barely over a year ago that we almost lost you, Darling. Of course our concern would be for your health and indeed that of the baby, we are just worried for you both.” She ensured to make clear.

“I just tripled the size of a palace. I think it is safe to say that if I were to be ill, I could not have done that.” Ella scoffed playfully. “I wished to tell you in our conversations but I felt it to be something worthy of a face-to-face informing.” “And we appreciate such. I fully understand your reasons for doing so, even if you hid your condition when I explicitly asked if you had any further alterations to your health.” Her mother eyed her admonishingly.

“I stated clearly that my health has been practically doubling...it’s not lying if there are two beings involved...technically...theoretically...sort of.”

“It’s not the same, Ella and well you know.” Odin’s tone was reprimanding but in a playful manner causing Ella to laugh slightly. Odin then noticed Loki’s apprehensive looks to his mother-in-law. “Don’t mind Frigga, she simply feels she shouldn’t be old enough to be a grandmother.” He dismissed. “But it is entirely to be expected and to be celebrated. No wonder Laufey is so confident to relieve himself of the reins, so to speak. Jotunheim has a good future to look forward to.” he nodded to his daughter. “I solemnly hope that little fellow does not give you the same trouble you gave us, be it with your health or mischief.”

“The latter I can take. It would be the Norns revenge for my previous behaviour.” Ella retorted back playfully. She found her hand going to her stomach on referencing her son within.

“If you were to be given a son to mimic your persona...forget Norns have mercy, the realms in their entirety have mercy.” Odin chuckled. “Jotunheim truly is in good hands. So long as that child has even a modicum of your combined attributes towards leadership, then Jotunheim will truly prosper.”

Loki did not know what to think at Odin’s statement. To hear the Aesir king, a man that left no uncertainty at his want to hurt Loki for what he did to his daughter not very long before, speak of him in such a flattering manner startled him beyond words.

“With the difference in gestations between Jotnar and Aesir, how long before our grandchild arrives?” It was clear that after the initial shock and concern about Ella’s health, Frigga was somewhat excited with regards the idea of there being a baby.

“Everything seems to be at the rate of an Aesir and Vanir pregnancy. So all things going to plan, he will arrive in seven months,” Ella was proud to declare.

“So soon?” Frigga was startled by such news.

Ella rose to her feet and removed her cloak revealing her somewhat protruding stomach to her parents.

Odin merely nodded slightly. “Wonderful. Praise the Norns we are told now and not at the beginning, the waiting can be something bothersome.”

“It’s different here, Loki was bothered I did not tell him before he left.”

“Knowing them to be carrying and going to war does no good.” Odin shook his head at Loki, looking him in the eye as he spoke. “I spent more of my time worrying about if Frigga could flee as she grew heavier with Ella than I did worrying about myself. With Thor being so young and Ella being so bothersome, it was something I worried about no end. On Alfheim, your focus was more on the task at hand.”

Loki nodded silently. He personally disagreed with that statement but it was subjective so there was no reason in telling the old king that he did not share his sentiments. Though, it did show him why Ella had not thought to tell him before his going. He was only grateful that through it all, their child had been growing and the date of his arrival grew closer.

The talking after that remained reasonably pleasant, if not slightly boring. Loki and Ella were regaled with the going-ons of Asgard, the vast majority of which Loki thought to be entirely mundane, though he noted that Ella listened intently, adding to the conversation every so often, often on a matter she had learnt of in her youth that her parents had not been aware of. So too was there talk of the requirements for the readying for the coronation. With Laufey still alive, it was somewhat different from anything that Asgard had planned for Thor’s coronation but that did not stop there being areas that her parents were able to assist in them readying. Frigga offered her assistance behind the scenes, recognising that many, especially the mates of Laufey’s other sons would feel it an intrusion and to keep the idea of meddling on the part of Asgard to a minimum. Both Loki and Ella informed the Aesir royals of the sentiment that some had with regards Loki, his heritage, his lineage, the marriage and Ella within Jotunheim’s court. Both nodded and gave suggestions on the matter and gave their sympathies to both youths for what they were being forced to endure by the ignorant older in society.

“I too felt as they did,” Odin admitted. “I thought the occupants of the other realm to be somewhat beneath me. Monsters. Inferior in most manners, without getting to know them. But I can see the error of my thoughts. I was wrong and I will admit so, but not all can. Some cannot see past what they believe to be fact when in truth, fact is rarely present in their thinking and even if they were presented with the facts, they would ignore them anyway and state them to be lies. This little fellow will be more Vanir than Jotnar or Aesir and will no doubt look mostly Jotnar due to the more dominant genes of the Jotnar. He will be raised here, as a Jotnar, who knows his other heritage and will be surrounded by the Jotnar way of life but that will never be enough for them. They want only purity. But there is no purity, not without imperfection. I read of this family in Midgard, royals, so closely related that they were without fertility and had every manner of genetic error within their bloodline, Norns, but the thought. It was not even that long ago and I recall saying it to the kings of different realms in our talks and we stated it there and then, that a varied bloodline is a better one. This little fellow, he has so much royal lineage but his mixtures will allow him good strength. Look at Thor and Ella, strong and healthy, bar of course, when she is the only one with the ability to harm her. That blade sliced her side, I have seen fully grown, fully trained Einherjar fall to less and she was no more than six hundred and with blood staining her clothes, she continued to fight using her seidr, not even looking to see where she was hit. No haemophiliac Midgardian royal could do that.” Odin’s chest swole slightly at pride in his daughter’s strength.

Loki looked to Ella curiously. “Haemophilia is blood issues. Some with them cannot clot wounds, they would die from bleeding from something we would not even see as much because the wound would never be able to heal.” She explained.

Loki shuddered at the thought. He found himself thinking of how Odin had seen the Jotnar as a species. He was insulted deeply by the comments but he paused and also considered his own earlier thoughts on the Aesir. He remembered how he dismissed them as cruel, especially considering their young but he realised through it all that the

Aesir truly did care for their child. Odin left his realm and rushed to Jotunheim to his daughter, he did not even seem to concern himself with the needs of the realm, he never even asked who dealt with Asgard in the Allfather’s absence. Had he even thought to put someone else in charge? Loki did not know. He had thought them monsters and he too was wrong. Looking to his mate beside him, he was relieved that he had learnt such, it allowed him to enjoy her fully as a mate.

After a time, there was a knock on the door before Ella used her seidr to open it. Thor strutted in with a smile. “Why am I never invited to these family discussions?” “They’re not family discussions, they are me talking with our parents because I now live in a foreign realm so I do not get to talk to them face-to-face too often and I want to. If it was an actual family discussion, you would have been informed of such to begin with.”

Thor could only make a head gesture in agreement, knowing this was true. He looked at Ella in an analytical manner for a moment, his eyes coming to her stomach before getting himself a drink and sitting down.

“You knew about this?” Frigga stared at Thor in shock, her hand gesturing to Ella’s stomach.

Thor nodded before taking a drink. “When I came to ask for Loki’s help, she spoke of some concerns she had for him for a moment, asking me to keep an eye on him. Whilst we were speaking, she voiced her concerns on other matters also, including fear for something happening while he was not here, especially and I am not able to recall the sentence verbatim but she referenced that she feared someone would hurt Loki and his line, while she unknowingly seemed to be touching her stomach. All this did not require an overly able mind to comprehend.” Thor looked at his family proudly before their startled faces made him scoff. “I am more astute than I am given credit for.” he shook his head before taking another drink. “I apologise to you Loki, for not saying anything to you on Alfheim but I gathered from your lack of saying anything with regards to it meant that you did not know.” He looked at Loki as he spoke. “Though with how long these things take, it’s best to not know for so long. I feel like I know forever. When is my niece or nephew due?”

“Your nephew is due in seven months,” Ella informed him.

“Nephew?” Thor smiled at the idea. “Well, that’s part of that agreement dealt with already, so that’s good, but Norns have mercy if he has your mischief.” He quibbed.

Loki felt slightly odd at the reference to the requirement of sons, something he still disliked.

#loki #other #submission #Submitted fic #chapter 51 #wolfpawn #Pride and Prejudice

47 notes · View notes

wolfpawn · 4 years

Text

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 51

Story Summary - Based on an idea I had that I submitted to Imagine Loki. Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.

Chapter Summary - The Aesir royal family come to Jotunheim to assist in readying for the coronation.

Previous Chapter

Tags - @peppermint-j @damalseer @perpetual-fangirl @tinchentitri @inspired-snowflace @raphaelaisabella @alexakeyloveloki @caffiend-queen @devilbat @nonsensicalobsessions @skulliebythesea @majoringinlife @salempoe @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @rookienumber98 @ivytoh @agarwaeneth @rosierossette @arch-venus25 @nessamaurice @winterisakiller @black-ninja-blade

Request if you wish to be tagged

NOTES - I literally have this written with over a week and just as a tab on my computer but I suffer from ITS, Idiotic Thoughts Syndrome which makes me really mentally weird and my mind tells me no one likes my stuff, I just had a few people message me over the last day about this telling me they love it which forced me to feel like I am letting them down if I don't post it which, by the way, is sometimes the best way to motivate my shitty ass, so yeah, it needs saying, if you like this, please let me know, it actually gets me to upload new chapters. I have some written, so...yeah.

Ella watched her parents’ faces for their reaction, both were worryingly neutral.

“Are you even physically able to healthily carry a child so soon after everything?” Frigga asked worriedly.

“He?” Frigga frowned. “How could you know that?” “Mother, you are an incredible seidr wielder but you never really pushed yourself as much as you should.”

“I stated clearly that my health has been practically doubling...it’s not lying if there are two beings involved...technically...theoretically...sort of.”

“The latter I can take. It would be the Norns revenge for my previous behaviour.” Ella retorted back playfully. She found her hand going to her stomach on referencing her son within.

“Everything seems to be at the rate of an Aesir and Vanir pregnancy. So all things going to plan, he will arrive in seven months,” Ella was proud to declare.

“So soon?” Frigga was startled by such news.

Ella rose to her feet and removed her cloak revealing her somewhat protruding stomach to her parents.

Odin merely nodded slightly. “Wonderful. Praise the Norns we are told now and not at the beginning, the waiting can be something bothersome.”

“It’s different here, Loki was bothered I did not tell him before he left.”

“You knew about this?” Frigga stared at Thor in shock, her hand gesturing to Ella’s stomach.

“Your nephew is due in seven months,” Ella informed him.

“Nephew?” Thor smiled at the idea. “Well, that’s part of that agreement dealt with already, so that’s good, but Norns have mercy if he has your mischief.” He quibbed.

Loki felt slightly odd at the reference to the requirement of sons, something he still disliked.

#loki fic #wolfpawn #chapter 51 #Pride and Prejudice

30 notes · View notes

eccentricpony · 4 years

Note

Hi, your kaomojis were so cute! UwU Could I request a movie theater date hc with Tenma? ty!!

Hey anon, thanks for visiting my page! I’d be happy to write this for you! I’m going to write in the style of bulleted imagine if that’s okay. My writing style is usually a usually a little campy humorous, a little emotional, a little sexy, and sometimes flowery.

I apologize if my tenses changed, or the style changed, but I just wanted to have fun with it. Maybe possibly a tiny bit implied NSFW but not really.

· You were determined to take Tenma to a movie theater as soon as you had found out he had never been to one.

· Despite his fame, you had learned that this child star beau of yours had missed out on many opportunities that you had taken for granted growing up. Your boyfriend was an odd blend of mature and immature due to his isolation and the pressure to manage a full-time profession at the age of seven. Fame has a price, as they say.

· He was hesitant at first – visiting a heavy traffic social scene meant donning sunglasses, avoiding eye contact… but you had already figured that part out! You’d be soliciting Monster Movie Night at the old theater-turned-cinema in the town square. You were sure Tenma would appreciate the 19th century theater aesthetic, and it was sure to have less attendees than the cinema at the mall.

· And what better movie genre to experience in an old, darkened theater than a classic horror!

· Yeah, no, Tenma was having none of that.

· He claimed that the movie you chose had received bad reviews.

· You then forwarded him the 97% fresh rating from RottenApples.com.

· He argued that the antagonist of the film was an actor he had worked with before and it would be “too weird” to watch someone he knew go on a killing spree.

· You proceeded to locate said actor on IFDB.com to find that he had passed away two years before Tenma was born.

· The lake of excuses having run dry, Tenma agreed to pick you up at 1pm that coming Saturday.

· Tenma was a bit more fidgety than usual in the back of his family limo. You assumed that it was date night jitters, which was so very precious. The old-fashioned theater marquee came into view, and you excitedly shuffled closer to the window. Nightmare on Birch Street! It had been ages since you had seen the film, and you couldn’t recall how the victims had all been killed… was it Chauncey who had been impaled by the school flagpole? You continued to jabber excitedly, the exhilarated sentiments floating through your head remaining unscathed as Tenma had the common courtesy to feign a cough so you couldn’t glimpse his sour expression.

· The journey from the ticket kiosk to the theater was uneventful. There were a few stares, and a “Aren’t you that kid? From the show? At that school?” but you made it to your seats in under 10.

· Wow, they really renovated this place! It was a bit sad to see that the creaky wooden seats of the theater had been replaced with cushy, high-tech armchairs, but it was comforting to know you wouldn’t be suffering a butt-ache following the film.

· Immediately, Tenma started messing with the seat like he was in a dentist’s chair. Leg rest up, back down, leg rest down, back straight, back flat. 123 degree angle…

· “Don’t you have chairs like this at home, rich boy?”

· “Yeah, but I never sit in my living room. There’s never anyone there.”

· Oh. You held out the bag of popcorn as a peace offering. “Well, you know that you’re welcome at my house any time you like.”

· “Yeah so I can recite the monologue from Shinobi Love Song to your mom for the 100th time? I’ll pass”

· “Forget it, sunshine. It was hasty of me to assume you’d be able to find my house without the guidance of Igawa…”

· Cheeky banter was the norm with the two of you, and you never tired of it. He handed you the box of Soup Patch kids with a feigned scowl as the lights in the theater began to dim. Leg rest up, back at a 95 degree angle was his final decision.

· He figured he’d have sometime before the killing started, so he decided to try and pay attention to the overall plot and characters, in case you had questions for him later. So wait… the killer doesn’t actually murder them in real life, but in their dreams? What kind of late night, infomercial hour, made-for-TV junk is this…

· Time to do the classic yawn and stretch. Smooth as a milkshake, he performed what he felt was a very believable yawn (practiced to a fault due to all of his roles as a too-cool-for-school hottie) and casually rested the stretch of his arm across your shoulder.

· You had been dating for about 7 months now. You had been moderately intimate. For Tenma to put on this song-and-dance just to hold onto you was a surefire tell that he was nervous. You hadn’t even really considered that maybe he didn’t like horror. You just assumed that because he was an acting professional that he was also a film aficionado, and a fan of all genres, at that. Stop pigeonholing him! you reminded yourself. Sure, he was perfect to you, but you had to let go of those preconceived notions.

· You turned and leaned closer to him, close enough to kiss. His throat constricted, he had heard there was more to these cinemas than just watching the movie. He prayed to God that this was your intention all along.

· “We can leave if you’re not into it” you insisted into his cheek.

· Pulse still quickening through his neck, he sat back and shook is head.

· “Nah babe, it’s cool. I liked the…” He proceeded to regurgitate every possible fact he had learned about the film within the last 15 minutes.

· Damn, so he was paying attention. You knew there was no point coaxing him to leave once he had made his mind up to stay, so instead you leaned forward and gave him a peck on the nose.

· “You’re adorable.”

· “Tch…” He bristled returning his back to the seat, but with the pouty pleased grin of a child who received praise for a shitty drawing. He watched as your eyes returned to the screen, and you flicked a few pieces of popcorn into your pretty mouth. Now what to do?

· Anything but look at the screen, really. Beads of sweat began to collect on his brow as the movie soundtrack reached a crescendo. He swiftly brushed them off into his already unruly ginger mane. He needed to distract himself, at least until the slicing and dicing had desisted.

· What’s this hole for? Tenma located an out of place hole attached to the arm of the chair. It doesn’t seem to have a bottom, but it does taper off deeper down. Curiosity got the best of him, and he casually slid his hand down into the soft drink cupholder. That’s freakin’ weird, there’s nothing even down there. Dumb. And he promptly finds his hand very much stuck.

· Shit, now what? Now he was really sweating. Some freakin’ great newspaper article this would make. “Teen drama heartthrob finds himself arrested not by the eyes of a young beauty, but the grasp of a plastic cupholder.” His father would kill him, to be sure. He’d probably have to sign autographs for all of the firefighters who removed the plastic cupholder from around his sore wrist. Here he is, trying so very hard to be a man’s man, to weather the barbarism that is horror cinema just to impress you, and now he’d gotten his hand stuck in the metaphorical cookie jar like a damn kid.

· He twists and pulls but he can’t get the heel of his palm back through the opening. He jerks his hand in frustration and elbows your flimsy paper cup of Canada Dry. Oh, so that’s what they’re for…

· “Hey! You got ginger ale on me, what are you doing?” You cocked an eyebrow at his hunched form.

· “Sorry, sorry! Yeah, I- I think I’ve got it. Don’t worry about me- hey! I think that guy in on a TV show with my father.”

· Snapping your head back to the screen, you consented that the man did indeed work with Tenma’s father (you’ve told him this before, he’s one of your favorite actors, and now you need to remind him again why his acting is so transcendent that even in a horror movie he can make the most mundane gestures seem so…)

· To Tenma’s great relief, it turns out ginger ale makes a passable lubricant. Using the splash that now trickled down his forearm, he twisted his wrist and managed to retrieve his very sore hand, tingling with pins and needles as he returned it to his lap. He sensed that you’ve finished your rant and offers a vacant smile. “Yeah… he’s a talented guy…” Crisis averted.

· Back to all the crazy shit happening on Birch Street. Tenma blanched as the whir of a chainsaw could be heard offscreen.

· “You okay? he asked, leaning over to comfort you which really wasn’t necessary whatsoever since you actually seemed extremely excited and not the least bit worried or bothered by all of the disgusting blood and guts and weird fleshy ceiling splayed onto the wall by the projector overhead.

· Before you had a chance to reply, he nuzzled in close to you, his hair brushing your cheek as he snuggled next to your chin. D’aww. You wiggled closer, touching the side of your forehead to his as the shrieks of the Final Girl could be felt penetrating the very seat below you. Great acoustics.

· Tenma wiggles his head into the crook of your neck to avoid looking at the carnage, murmuring an almost devious “Don’t be scared” into your ear before pressing a kiss to the column of your throat.

· Your heart leaps into your ears at the sudden burst of semi-public affection; Tenma wasn’t big on PDA, and you were cool with that. He smelled like a mix of clean cotton and Cool Water (they still make that?) He didn’t really do much besides camp out there above your collarbone after that, but his ghosting breath gave you pleasant chills, so you didn’t tell him he was missing the best part.

· You smelled like almonds and Freesia, he considered. His mother loved Freesia and she had planted them all along their estate courtyard, though she was rarely at home long enough to enjoy it. Tenma enjoyed sitting in the courtyard as a child. While the house was always eerily silent aside from the sterile hum of electricity, the courtyard was always full of tweets and twittering after school, and a discordant chorus of various chirping in the evening. That was what homes are supposed to be like, he had always thought. Chaotic and noisy, but full of life. It was his safe haven, and you carried the scent of it on your skin. You were his new sanctuary… a little pocket of protection from the pains of fake friends and real insecurities.

· These are his last thoughts before he fell asleep. You realize he’s out like a light as the credits roll, and you feel a sliver of drool trail down your clavicle. Hot.

· “Tenma? Hey!” He startles awake and you attempt to suppress a grin. “Hope it was a good dream.”

· Tenma may not have book smarts, but he’s far from stupid. He knows that you know he hated it, and he knows that you know that he knows he was just playing the brave guy to shield his ego. He was beginning to confuse himself, so instead he focused on the core of the matter – he loved you enough to feign interest in something you liked, and you loved him enough to go along with it.

· “They’re always great when they feature my favorite co-star.” He leaned forward and gave the bridge of your nose a chaste smooch.

· Gahhh. The right side of your mouth pinches up in a grin. Damn you and your flawless smileyou’re your immaculate stage presence.

· After he returned his hat and sunglasses to their proper place, with twin grins syrupy-sweet enough to make Yuki vomit, you exited the theater.

· Once outside, he took your hand and pulled you off to the side of the theater, at the mouth of the little alleyway that led to a street behind the theater. His wide palm and long fingers felt warm and comforting, though rather sticky and smelling oddly of ginger.

· “Thanks for coming out with me. I know it’s a pain in the ass for you,” you offered before he could speak.

· “Nah,” he deflects. “I’m used to it.”

· You knew he still hated it.

· “Plus, you’re worth it,” he added, feet shuffling and pink tinging the tips of his ears.

· Butterflies, oh so many butterflies. Rolling onto your toes, you leaned up and kissed him. After a meager gasp of surprise, he returned it with fervor, nose brushing against yours as he experimented with a few different head angles. Sour Patch kids never tasted so good.

· The thump of a closing car door was unfortunately audible above the sounds of your smacking mouths – Igawa was on the move and ready to shuffle the prince of teen dramas and his beloved to the safety of the Sumeragi Cadillac CT5. You groaned in unison, and not the good kind.

· Dragging your mouths apart, your mutual stares shared a silent vow that you would find a way to pick this up again later. Without a word, you both emerged from the shadows, fingers tangled tighter together as you steeled yourselves for a lecture from Igawa on the dangers of lingering in crowded places.

· You had no doubt there would still be plenty more adjustments to be made by both parties, and many a wall to gently tumble down. But that was a future nearly too resplendent to imagine, when where you were now was already a pretty fantastic place to be.

#a3!#a3! actor training game #tenma sumeragi #tenma x reader #a3! imagines #a3! headcanons #a3 imagines #a3 headcanons #a3 tenma #sumeragi tenma #a3! tenma #a3 actor training game #act! addict! actors!

37 notes · View notes

maiaisbia · 5 years

Note

jimon with 42~

“I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having.”

Ah… Anon this is probably not what you were thinking of when you sent this request. This ended up having a pretty big focus on identity, with romantic fluff. I had a great time writing it though, so thank you! I hope you enjoy!

from this prompt list | on ao3

It was going on thirty minutes now, and Jace didn’t know how much longer he could take watching the trainwreck. He couldn’t guess which one of them thought a date together would work, but it was clear that it was not going well. Simon looked uncomfortable and Meliorn looked bored.

“Are you going to do something, or am I going to have to get involved?” Maia asked, leaning on the bar across from Jace. “Because I can play the jealous ex lover, but I would really rather not.”

“If I do it, will you promise to stop spitting in my drinks?” Jace joked, glancing at his beer.

“No, but I’ll reduce spit drinks by 50%,” Maia grinned.

“Does that mean 50% less spit in the drinks or half my drinks will be spit free?”

“Let a girl have a little bit of mystery,” she pushed off the counter with a wink and moved to attend to a new customer.

Jace could only shake his head and smile, before downing the rest of his beer. Standing up, he moved to the corner table Simon and Meliorn were sitting at. They both looked up as he approached with relief. Jace didn’t know if he should be worried or flattered.

“Which one of us are you coming to whisk away?” Meliorn asked, resting his chin on his hands and turning his pretty eyes up to Jace. Simon was just watching Jace with a soft smile, a little bit of fang sticking out.

“Ah, Simon,” Jace said, resting a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Should I even bother coming up with some excuse like a mission he is needed on?”

“No…” Meliorn pouted dramatically now, “Pity you didn’t choose me. One day, Jace.”

“Nah man, you slept with my sister, that’s a no go,” Jace laughed. “Come on Simon, you have a video game to beat my ass at?”

“Yeah, okay!” Simon stood, slipping his coat on. Jace dropped some cash on the table to cover for both their drinks. “Um, see you ‘round Meliorn.”

“Goodbye daylighter,” Meloirn said, waving at them both as Jace ushered Simon out the door.

“See it’s things like that why it wasn’t working!” Simon said, gesturing at Hunters Moon. “He kept calling me daylighter. That’s like. The most uncool pet name ever. Plus who even uses pet names on a first date?”

“I don’t know why you even went on a date with him,” Jace said, and fell in step as Simon turned in the direction of his apartment.

“I don’t either, I guess I haven’t really dated guys in the shadow world and he seemed like a pretty safe start,” Simon said, running a hand through his hair and messing it up. “I dated a couple guys in highschool, so back when I was a mundane. It was pretty common to be queer in the artsy circles I was in, you know? Accepted, normalized. Then I end up a fucking vampire, and it’s a whole new set of rules! Shadowhunters, big no go, though that’s changing a bit. Warlocks, seelies, and vampires? Very accepting. I mean, you can see it in the leadership! Werewolves, pretty much like mundanes. Gotta be careful, some are chill and some are assholes.”

Jace tried to keep up with all that, because Simon’s hands were moving and he was talking pretty fast. But he thought he got it. “So you’re bisexual like Magnus?”

“I identify as pansexual,” Simon caught Jace’s look of confusion and continued. “It’s pretty similar, yeah? Bi you’re attracted to your own and other genders. Gender comes into play in attraction, like people may feel attraction differently towards men vs. women vs. nonbinary folks. Pan, it’s like… gender doesn’t play a big part in your attraction to someone. So in both cases, bi and pan people tend to be able to fall in love with people of any gender, but they feel the attraction to the person or people they love a little differently.”

Jace nodded, again not sure he was picking up all the nuances but understanding the gist. “Okay man.”

“Too much of a crash course?” Simon asked, nudging Jace with his elbow and grinning.

“Nah,” Jace said, and then huffed. “Okay I’m going to say something and it might sound shitty.”

Simon visibly tensed but nodded. “Okaaayyy? Not ominous at all and I reserve the right to punch you.”

“I always thought my attraction to guys was bleed through from Alec,” he muttered, glancing to Simon. Simon didn’t seem upset, so Jace took a deep breath and tried to explain what he had only ever thought about. “I didn’t live around a lot of people until the Lightwoods adopted me, and I didn’t really think about crushes until years later. Alec and I were bonded pretty young, so I just assumed that when I thought a guy was hot or cute or whatever, it was from him.” Jace snorted, shaking his head. “But you know what I’ve realized since? Alec and I have a completely different taste in dudes. Like he’ll be zeroed in on Magnus and I feel nothing except his distant happiness.”

Jace didn’t add that Simon was probably the last (male) person on Earth Alec would be attracted to. But boy, did Jace find himself watching Simon, smiling at his jokes, feeling butterflies when he was around, all that dumb shit. That was definitely just on Jace.

Simon, to Jace’s surprise and relief, was nodding, “That actually makes sense. You Shadowhunters are such a heteronormative culture… It’d be confusing.”

Jace shook his head. “Well thanks for the validation I guess.”

“Dude,” Simon just rolled his eyes, turning and jogged up the steps to his apartment. Their conversation had certainly killed some time. “I appreciate you trusting me to come out to me.”

“Whatever,” Jace huffed, though he felt oddly lighter. “I don’t know I like any of the labels you’ve said.”

“That’s fine,” Simon held the door open and Jace slipped passed him. The stairs creaked as they went up to the second floor. “You’ll just find what works for you.”

Jace drew the unlock rune before Simon pulled out his keys. Walking in, he found the place was changed from the last time he was there. “There’s a fish tank and it’s cleaner in here.”

“Yeah, if I don’t do my share of the chores Maia makes me pay a bigger portion of the rent,” Simon flopped on the couch. “Which is fair, and a good motivator because I don’t make much from my gigs.” He gestures to the TV setup. “But she’s a great roommate, and Maia means the game and console collection has doubled!”

Jace crouched and flicked through what was there. He didn’t know how it had been so easy to talk to Simon about things he hadn’t ever tried to put into words before. And now they were just going to play games, maybe order out, like nothing had changed.

Because it hadn’t. And that was just what Jace wanted. He slipped Call of Duty into the PS4 (he had started to figure out all the systems), and grabbed two controllers. Tossing one to Simon as he walked to the couch, he whacked at Simon’s legs. “Move over.”

“No,” Simon said, snagged the spot of player one. He remained firmly lying across the whole couch. He lifted his legs up after a moment and Jace sighed. As soon as he sat, he found Simon’s legs in his lap.

Jace didn’t push Simon away, in fact it felt… nice. Jace relaxed, resting his arms on Simon’s legs. “We’re playing the zombie version.”

“Oh player 2, you will be doing whatever I dictate,” Simon said, but selected the zombie campaign anyway. “Aren’t you tired of fighting these types of things?”

Jace shrugged. “I find it weirdly relaxing. No one’s life is actually on the line.”

“That’s fair,” Simon flicked through the options, yawning. As the game loaded, Simon said, “Hey thanks for the save back there. This is a much more fun way to spend the evening.”

“Any time,” Jace said, and took a breath. “For the record, if I took you out on a date, it would have been much better.”

“Oh yeah?” Simon said, and he wasn’t laughing like Jace worried he might. “If we were on a date, what’d we do?”

“Something like this,” Jace said, stabbing a zombie on screen. “Sometimes a fancy restaurant or a movie or something, but mostly just this. I would have planned ahead and brought good beer though, that’d be the difference.”

“You know? That sounds pretty nice,” Simon paused the game. He sat up and pulled his legs away. Before Jace could mourn the loss of contact, Simon was nearly in his face. “We’re all so busy, any downtime is precious.”

“Yeah,” Jace said, and it came out a lot breathier than he wanted. His eyes flick down to Simon’s mouth before quickly looking back at Simon’s eyes. “Um.”

Simon’s smile was soft. “You know what would really salvage my date night?”

“Take out?” Jace asked, but let Simon take the controller out of his hand.

“I was thinking more along the lines of you kissing me,” Simon said, little shrug of his shoulders. “If you wanted to.”

“I could do that,” Jace swallowed.

“Too late, I’m going to kiss you instead,” Simon’s smile was a little lopsided now.

Kissing that smile might just be the best thing Jace had done in a very long while.

#jimon #simon lewis #jace lightwood #jace wayland #my fic #welcome to my identity headcanons for simon and jace idk that's just how the fic went #we stan bi-pan solidarity everyday in this house

55 notes · View notes

demaury · 5 years

Text

only fools do what I do (2/2)

Words: 3263 | Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Not only is he getting cheated on and betrayed by his closest friends, but he’s getting ghosted by his very own cheating boyfriend. Business trip my ass. He’s going to murder him.

OR. Lucas gets cheated on and finds comfort in the one person he never expected to. (ao3 link)

“I’ve missed this.”

Eliott hums quietly in response as his boyfriend’s hand runs up and down his arm, gentle fingers grazing the skin. He’s on his side, facing the wall, and his eyes are stuck on an invisible spot. The words don’t come out, and with every silence on his part his heart gets heavier — and the lump in his throat bigger. Usually it’s quiet nights like these that he likes the most, but tonight everything feels different, alien, out of place. He closes his eyes and counts to ten, but he’s barely reached seven before Benji starts moving behind him, the mattress dipping a little as he props himself up on an elbow.

“You okay, baby? You’re very quiet,” he says, threading his fingers through Eliott’s hair.

It takes a second for him to answer. “Yeah. I’m just tired,” he replies, voice barely any louder than a whisper.

There’s a second of silence, and it’s almost as if he can hear the wheels turning in Benji’s head, like he’s pondering his next move. Problem is, Eliott doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what he wants and what he doesn’t want. He has no idea if he wants him to shut up or to keep talking, babbling, filling the silence that for once is unbearable. He has no idea if he wants him to touch him or to leave him the fuck alone. He didn’t know two hours ago when he was waiting for him to come home and asking himself how he would play it out, he didn’t know an hour ago when Benji crossed the threshold.

He doesn’t know, and it’s eating him alive.

Benji’s hand curls around his shoulder and he turns him over until Eliott’s on his back and their eyes meet. Benji’s got beautiful eyes. And a beautiful face. If only his personality wasn’t so shitty he’d be a perfect match, Eliott thinks. He should be more appreciative of the fact that for once Benji noticed something’s wrong, when usually he doesn’t notice anything until Eliott’s already too deep in his own head and that pushing him away works best for the both of them — and it’s funny, really, because it’s as though Benji just can’t fathom how not okay everything is.

“You sure?” Benji insists.

He looks relaxed. They’ve known each other for four months, but Benji isn’t the relaxed type. Either he’s buzzing with excitement or he’s plain snappy — either way he’s wound-up tight, but not in a totally off-putting manner. This… this feels weird. It feels weird that tonight of all nights he’s relaxed, and chill, and clingy even, so naturally Eliott wonders.

He wonders what happened with Lucas, and if he went to see him at all.

He wonders if Benji found a way to twist things around to dump him.

He wonders if Lucas stood his ground.

“Everything’s fine,” Eliott nods, and he forces a smile.

Benji grins back at him and pecks him on the lips, once, twice, then the kiss deepens and still, Eliott wonders. He wonders if Lucas would hate him, if he were to find out how weak he is.

It happens in the subway, about a month after they first met.

Eliott’s lived in Paris all his life, and he has long committed to a strict observance of the etiquette in public transportation, so it really isn’t like he’s purposefully staring at random people — let alone trying to make eye-contact with them. No, it’s really not intended.

Yet, as he’s one in a million people walking towards the exit one morning, there’s something that draws his attention in the vicinity of one of those billboards hanging on the walls, on the other side of the tracks. It’s a fact, and he feels mildly embarrassed about it, but his pace falters nonetheless, if only for a moment. Lucas is sitting on one of those plastic seats, too absorbed by the content of his phone to look up and pay attention to the outside world. He looks good, in black pants and a dark-blue button down, and Eliott wonders if his hair is shorter or if he simply tried to tame it at all — the shallowest question among a bunch of others he’s dying to ask. Are you okay? How are you doing? What happened with Benji? But if anything life is a funny thing, in quite a strange and small, small world. It lasts for a second, maybe twenty, then Lucas gets up and heads the other way, and before Eliott realizes, that fleeting moment is already over, leaving his silent questions unanswered.

Does he still think about him? Probably not. Lucas doesn’t seem to be the kind to look behind, only moving forward, ever forward. Not everyone overthinks everything the way you do, reminds a voice. He’s probably moved on — Benji himself has for sure. He tries to shake it off, forget Lucas from the subway, with his blue button down and his tamed hair, and Lucas from the apartment, with his hoodie and his angry eyes, until it strikes again.

Well technically it doesn’t happen again. Not quite. There’s a difference between what Eliott wants to happen, what might happen, and what actually happens.

It’s just another day, perhaps a month or two later — he doesn’t know exactly. He’s walking back home, not really thinking of anything in particular. Next to him, the traffic is enough of a parallel world for him not to pay much attention to it, so when the window of a car waiting at a red-light rolls down, he nearly misses it. He doesn’t really notice, doesn’t really register when the driver is trying to get his attention, until he glances sideway a little bit randomly and a sparkle of excitement runs up his spine — only for it to die down in a blink. It’s a guy, probably in his twenties, and sure enough he’s got floppy hair and blue eyes, but he’s so far from looking even remotely like Lucas that Eliott doesn’t even understand why his brain messed with him, if only for a second. As it turns out he’s looking for a street that Eliott happens to know — it’s the street of one of the tabacs he often goes to — and he’s long, long gone in the direction pointed at him before Eliott stops thinking about it.

Third time’s a charm, or so they say.

It’s not quite 8, and Eliott’s planned to spend an evening by himself at home instead of going out with his friends. There’s something incredibly boring but very important that he needs to do — clear some space on his hard-drives, if he wants to actually spare some money instead of buying yet a new one. It sounds incredibly boring and depressing but he doesn’t mind spending a night in by himself, doing something as mundane as clearing a hard-drive. The only thing on his list before getting home is to grab something to eat, and since he already managed to poison himself once with spaghettis, he mechanically goes to a restaurant in his neighborhood to grab take-outs — really, it’s just an evening like so many others.

At this point, it’s been a little over three weeks since he last thought about Lucas, and Benji, because thinking of one means thinking of the other, so when he bumps practically head first into someone walking out of the restaurant, he doesn’t even pick up on it until he meets blue eyes that are strangely familiar.

“Oh, hey,” Lucas says, sounding a little surprised.

He’s holding the door, but soon his grip relapses and it slowly shuts itself without any of them moving.

Eliott blinks, a little taken aback. “Hi.” There’s a silence and Eliott realizes he’s blocking the way, so he motions to the left. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Lucas says quickly, and he cracks a small smile, almost as if he’s relieved. “Anything exciting going on?”

Eliott cocks his head a little, confused, until Lucas gestures towards the restaurant behind him. Oh, right. He’s at a restaurant — or about to walk in — at night. People assume things. It’s not like they never do, they always do, because Eliott looks like he does and if he isn’t complaining they just can’t wrap their head around the idea of him wanting to be alone every now and then.

“Nah, I’m just gonna order take-outs and go home,” he says, shrugging a little. “You?”

Lucas scrunches his nose. “I’m here for work.”

“You work here?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m just- uh,” he pauses, then sighs. “I’m working for an advertising agency and the atmosphere’s been pretty shitty lately so my manager wants me and my coworkers to, uh, bond I guess,” he mumbles half-heartedly, gesturing evasively.

Eliott’s eyes trail up above Lucas’ shoulder, peering through the large windows. The restaurant is an Italian one that he often goes to, not too overly romantic as to make it weird when you’re just going with friends; yet it’s the first time probably that he sees such a big table, pushed in a corner — about ten people are sitting around. He’s already tearing his eyes away when something draws his attention back as quick as an electric shock.

“Is that Benji over there?”, he blurts out, disbelieved, eyes widening slightly as they focus on the guy sitting at the end of the table. He’s got his back turned on them, but Eliott would be able to pick his black curls in any crowd.

Lucas doesn’t bother turning around. “Yes.”

“I had no idea you were working with him.”

So that’s how they probably met. The only time he got to really talk with Lucas, before Tequila took over, he remained quite evasive on how they met, or how they ended up together. Eliott just recalls him saying something about getting together after a few weeks of dancing around each other, but nothing about them being coworkers.

“Yeah. It’s not really fun,” Lucas snorts, sarcastic. “I guess I’m a part of the reason why the atmosphere is shitty at the agency. But in any case, if I’m like, 20% responsible, he’s a good 70%.”

Eliott feels his lips curving into a smile, almost on instinct. “What are the other 10%?”

Lucas seems to be considering his answer, then he slightly turns around. “See that guy over there? The ginger one? That’s the guy Benji banged after we broke up. He’s the other 10%.”

Broke up. Not like he’s got any right to judge or to have any kind of opinion — whether or not Lucas got back with Benji isn’t his business. Still, he’s glad, because Lucas stands on his two feet, in motion, and he can only guess how hard it must be, considering he has to deal with Benji-the-asshole on the daily. Eliott’s never been friends with him, and after he managed to get his shit together long enough to throw him out, he’s stopped talking and seeing him altogether. And yet. He knows.

Benjamin is pretentious, stubborn, but above all he’s a smooth-talker.

Eliott, baby, I love you.

You’re the only thing that matters.

It’s still hard to believe how close he was to falling for it. How close, but not quite sold.

“Wasn’t easy, I bet,” Eliott winces.

Lucas lets out a small grunt and starts tapping his foot on the concrete. “No. He’s got a way with words.”

He really does. Eliott wonders if Lucas can feel it too, the way things seem to hang, up and heavy between them. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop thinking about him these past few months. He was always going back to that week, those seven days he spent being the center of Benji’s world, all the while being fully, painstakingly aware that he wasn’t any better than him, and that somewhere else in Paris a guy called Lucas had seen his world crumble.

Lucas clears his throat. “It’s- uh. It’s nice to see you.”

Eliott looks up, drowning himself a little in those blue pools. “What are you doing here if you’re having dinner over there?”

“I need a break,” he groans, and he exhumes a packet of Chesterfields from his pocket, “if I have to listen to Benji bragging another hour I think I’ll scratch my eyes out.”

He flips the packet open and holds it out towards Eliott. Technically he only smokes rolled-up tobacco, but staying a little bit more with Lucas is worth a bad taste for a few minutes, so he picks a cigarette and sticks it between his lips while Lucas mirrors his movements and puts the packet back in his pocket. There’s a lighter sitting in his jacket, but he doesn’t even make a move to grab it, and it doesn’t seem to bother Lucas any more than that as he motions for him to come closer.

It’s stupid, really, but for a moment, as Eliott ducks his head and angles his face, it’s almost as though he can feel Lucas’ lips on his own and the taste of Tequila all over again. The flame from the lighter lights up their faces as it burns the extremity of the cigarettes, and it’s not supposed to last more than five seconds, more than a moment, yet it does, and it lasts and-

The door of the restaurant opens somewhere on the side and they startle away from each other, if only for a handful of centimeters. A man stares at them, a bit surprised, as he keeps the door open. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” His eyes settle on Lucas. “The waiter is there to take orders and Ophélie is asking him if they have anything vegan-friendly, so you better come inside now because I’m not sure how much time we have before he snaps.”

Lucas barely makes an attempt to hide his annoyance as he puffs out a small cloud of smoke. “Do I really have to? We’ve been here for an hour already.”

“It’s supposed to be a bonding night, Lucas,” the man insists. “You’re a part of the team.”

Lucas grumbles something Eliott can’t quite catch, and he’s gloomily tugging at his cigarette. It’s sad, really, to see him like that, and Eliott finds himself dragging the situation for some reason. The only difference is that he doesn’t really want to go home anymore while Lucas has Benjamin to deal with. Lucas’ table suddenly erupts in a loud laughter that echoes through the door still held open.

“See? It is working,” the man, probably Lucas’ manager, triumphs as he throws a look behind his shoulder.

Eliott takes another hit, exhaling the smoke, and then his lips are moving before he even thought it through. “He’s right, baby,” he says casually. “You should go back, I’ll just head home, okay?”

Lucas freezes, staring back at him, cigarette dangling from his mouth. What the fuck are you doing, his eyes are screaming, but before he gets the chance to say anything, Lucas’ manager finally lets go of the door and takes a step closer.

“Oh my god, so you’re Lucas’ boyfriend? I’m so glad to finally meet you!”, the man says, grinning broadly as he holds out his hand for Eliott to shake it.

Finally? Holy shit. He shouldn’t have done that. Does Lucas have someone else? Or is he faking it already? Because right now he looks like he wants to rip off his skin all over again and Eliott thinks he might have taken a very, very bad decision. So much for sweet confessions and intense looks.

He shakes the man’s hand and flashes a smile despite it all, trying to make it better. “I’m Eliott, nice to meet you.” He forces a look towards Lucas, already dreading to meet his murderous expression. “Anyway, I’m fine baby, it’s all good, really, you, uh, you don’t have to worry.”

Lucas’ manager seems genuinely concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Eliott fakes a surprised glance. “Yeah, I just had, uh, a family emergency.”

“His grandmother died,” Lucas’ voice says after an agonizing minute, and Eliott nearly smirks in relief to see him hop down the rabbit hole with him. “I didn’t want to leave him alone tonight but-”

“Lucas,” his manager scolds, sounding rather offended, “you should have told me! I’m not heartless, Jesus. Eliott, I’m really sorry, do you maybe feel like joining us?”

He meets Lucas’ eyes. How about that?, they seem to say, challenging. Eliott winces, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. “Nah, I was about to get home and I don’t want to be a bummer. I’ll see you later baby?”

Lucas is about to say something, but his manager huffs before he can say a word. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lucas you go home with him, I’ll explain the others.”

“I thought it was mandatory,” Lucas groans, throwing his cigarette to the ground, and Eliott narrows his eyes.

What the fuck are you doing, he wants to tell him.

The manager waves. “Family comes first. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go back inside.” He smiles warmly at Eliott and he feels mildly bad about lying to him for a second.

Come on, you’re seeing him for the first and last time. It’s not that big of a deal, and he shakes himself out of his thoughts as the man wishes Lucas a good weekend and gets back inside. The door is barely shutting itself, behind a couple exiting at the same time as the manager steps in, that Lucas’ head snaps towards him.

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“And you’re welcome,” Eliott grins.

Lucas huffs a laugh. Above his shoulder, Eliott can see the manager returning to their table, and he can pinpoint the exact moment he’s telling Lucas’ coworkers about the situation, because soon a head turns, then two, then three. The moment Benjamin spins around onto his chair, Eliott moves — pounces almost. He steps into Lucas’ personal space, ducking his head a little just like when they were lighting up the cigarettes before reality came back crashing in.

“Everybody’s watching, don’t move,” he mumbles, pressing the tip of his nose against Lucas cheek.

He’s not sure, but he thinks Lucas is holding his breath, and maybe he does too, because smelling Lucas from so close might be deadly for all he knows — if anything their first meeting certainly proved that he wasn’t afraid of anything. “Don’t move either, then,” he whispers.

Eliott feels Lucas’ arms wrapping around his waist, and he’s suddenly finding himself deflecting a laughing fit. “Benji’s watching.”

Lucas snorts. “Let him watch.”

Eliott nuzzles against his cheek, hiding his smile.

“Why are you helping me?” Lucas says again, quiet, tilting his head ever so slightly.

The only thing that is lacking is the taste of his lips, and Eliott is so focused on trying to remember it from months ago that he forgets about Benjamin, and the rest of the world for what it’s worth.

“Between us, your imaginary boyfriend needs a little more substance.”

Lucas pulls back, shooting him a glare. “Don’t you dare judging me,” he grits out. “You don’t know the full story.”

“Well, you know, it’s still early,” Eliott says, casual. “And Paris probably has a billion other restaurants.”

There’s a second before Lucas gives him a smirk. “Sounds like a plan,” he says, his arms loosening around Eliott’s waist. “I’ve got to warn you, though, I’ve got a shitty ex-boyfriend walking around.”

Eliott breaks into a laugh. “I’ve got a fine specimen myself.”

#eluficrecs #skam france #Lucas Lallemant #eliott demaury #mine #*#*ffs #elu fic #elu #jeez i hate it when i'm not planning things ahead #it feels like it's such a mess #🙈😂#my fics

84 notes · View notes

yourhero404 · 5 years

Text

Katsuki’s Birthday (4/20/19)

A/N: TECHNICALLY I’M ONLY LIKE, TWO HOURS LATE TO THE PARTY (it’s uh almost 1am as I post this) BUT EVERY DAY IS A GOOD DAY TO LOVE AND APPRECIATE BAKUGO KATSUKI

Idk why I made this shit sad and I also dunno why I can’t hold onto a plot line but I’ve been exhausted and I just couldn’t let myself NOT do anything for his birthday so here, have this anyway

Villain!Reader and ProHero!Bakugo? You betcha. Hell yes. It’s honestly one of my favourite ideas and I really hope I can write more some time ;u;

Why was today so fucking busy?

Bakugo was never one to fuss about a birthday, especially his own, but the amount of work he’s got on his plate today was massive compared to the usual and he was beyond ready to just go home. A villain here, a theft there—aren't there other heroes working? Ridiculous. What made it worse was the fact that no one seemed to remember that his birthday had been today; He was happy because it meant there was no large, over the top party waiting for him, but some part of him actually felt... lonely.

He stood amongst the wreckage of a, luckily, abandoned warehouse, sweeping the building one last time to make sure he and the police arrested everyone involved in the bust. Very faintly, a creak came from broken boards of the exposed second floor above his head, causing his attention to snap to the silhouette leaning against the wall.

“Oh, Explode-a-boy,” the voice drawled from the clearer image of (Y/n), “Lookin’ a little worn out there.”

“Fuck off,” He spat, “Either come down here and get the ass kicking that’s coming to you or get lost. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.”

“Woah,” they took liberty of their sarcastic cat’s meow and hopped down to the space in front of him, “Those pants got your panties in a bunch today?”

“Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?”

His lips turned up to a snarl, a few medium explosions coming from his palm to serve as a warning for the villain in front of him to back off. They gave him a smile and threw their hands up as a sign of surrender before gesturing for him to relax.

The curve of their lips was unsettling—something about it pissed him off; It wasn’t smug or dark, but... genuine. That’s what pissed him off—how genuine this villain always was amongst their attitude, it was... human. They fought every time they came together, but it never seemed to end in a win or a loss, just a smile from them as they left—it felt like the damn training sessions he’d gone through in school. This villain was an odd one, and they left and even more odd feeling in his chest with each interaction.

“Okay okay, I can see you’re having a rough kinda day,” they offered their apology with a bow that held a large flourish, lightly making their way backwards towards their exit, “I just wanted to tell you about a little surprise I have for you-”

“What surprise?” He cut them off, his entire form dripping with irritation, “If you’re looking for a fight-”

“God, shut up for five seconds, big head.” They curled their lip to a snarl that rivaled his own, “Since you’re beyond rude, I won’t tell you now.”

“Tell me.”

“Not happening!” They turned quickly and made their way far out of his reach, throwing one last smile over their shoulder, “You’ll just have to wait for it!”

“Great,” he murmured to himself, “Just what I needed. More fucking work to do today.”

The rest of his day was just as hectic, the stress he held in his shoulders over the idea that some large-scale attack by (Y/n) could happen at any moment did nothing to help his mood, either. Not one ‘happy birthday’ text, not one second glance his way—everything was bland and mundane. Is this truly what it was like to be an adult? It was a shitty sort of life to lead, especially since he’d been dreaming of this heroic sort of world since he could remember. The only thing he looked forward to now was the shower that was calling his name, but he couldn’t have that either, it seemed.

All it took was a small crack of his front door to allow the smell of food to hit his face. Food? There shouldn’t be any smell of food; Now on high alert, he threw the door open quickly and held his hand ready for any sort of attack—only to be met with an empty room.

On the counter in his small kitchen sat a plate—a warm plate, actually, there was an abundance of steam coming off of the spicy curry that sat on it. Someone had to of just left it there moments ago, but who? The small, handwritten note beside it gave him his answer—and for some reason, it didn’t cause him any worry like it should have.

‘Nice place, Explodokill. You really should clean your fridge up, though—you really do live like a single dude. I told you I had a surprise for you, didn’t I? Figured you were too tired to do it yourself, so I made you something.’

He eyed the food sitting on the counter before a small arrow on the bottom of the note caught his eye, and he turned it over to find the continuing message.

‘NO, I didn’t poison the food. Killing you like that would be too easy, I want you to go out in some big, extravagant fight. Basically, it’s safe. Check the fridge when you’re done.’

Too tired to really argue with that logic, Bakugo cautiously took a bite, not really knowing why, but mostly trusting the food. It smelt divine—extra spicy and had some sort of twist to it, one he couldn’t put his finger on but knew he hadn’t had homecooked dinner that good in a while. Ignoring any sort of logic to be wary of their intentions, he checked the fridge as they had suggested and found a small, home-baked cake waiting for him as well. It was lopsided, frosted hastily, and held a coloured message with an equally lopsided smiley face-- ‘Congrats, you’re old’. He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh—it shook his entire body until tears formed in his eyes; Just who was this person? What sort of evil villain breaks into a hero's home to cook them dinner and bake them a cake? What villain would go out of their way to do something so nice to their enemy? Bakugo always knew they were never a typical villain—maybe that’s why he somehow ended up fond of them, not that he’d admit it to anyone.

He ate his cake- it tasted good despite its appearance- in a deafening silence, only now truly realizing how lonely he had felt today. Dragging it along, he made the cake made for one last as long as possible to keep him busy, once it was gone, he’d fall further into the realization he was alone. With heavy sighs out of the way, he silently promised himself he’d wash the used dishes later and pushed past his bedroom door to find a small box sitting on his open window sill.

Knowing who it was from immediately, he unwrapped it- not too rough just in case they had some sort of joke to pull, but not too soft either- to find something shiny inside. On a metal chain sat a thin silver grenade-shaped pendant that resembled the gauntlets he wore with his costume, the iconic ‘X’ from his shirt engraved across it. He couldn’t stop the smallest smile from gracing his lips, only for it to drop in shock as he felt some sort of engraving on the back of it.

‘#1 Hero- King Explosion Murder’

Bakugo swallowed hard, irritated at how easily something like this had brought tears to his eyes. He was getting emotional over a necklace he received as a gift from a villain—a villain! Yet, they had listened to him each and every time they had spoken during their fights, paid attention to each little detail of their interactions, and took the time to get him something so heartfelt. It was stupid, he knew, to develop feelings for a villain, especially one considered to be your nemesis, but how could he stop himself from falling now that they had done all of this, when no one else had even bothered to remember? Maybe they weren’t a villain by choice but by necessity—they certainly were kind at heart, and it made his own feel as though it were going to jump out of his chest at the thought of them. He had a lot to think about, all of which held (Y/n) as the main topic.

Light footsteps hopped down from his window sill, very cautiously making their way in front of him. They stopped at a careful distance, ensuring an easy getaway should he decide to attack, but he hadn’t even looked up at them. He sat at the edge of his bed, allowing them to walk just a few steps forward to make up the distance, sitting in silence for a few more moments as he clutched his newest prized possession.

They made a move to say something, but were caught off guard at the grip he held on their wrist—before they could react, he pulled them close and wrapped his arms around their waist tightly, hiding his face against their abdomen. A few moments of realization were all it took before they gave him a gentle reaction, lightly combing his tangled hair with their fingers and laying their other hand on the back of his neck in reassurance. Normally, they would take the opportunity to tug on his nerves, piss him off, make him break—but they only smiled sadly to themselves as they barely caught the sniffling and hiccups that came from the blonde wrapped around them. Falling for a hero was the stupidest thing they could have ever done, but seeing just how soft the explosive man could be in times like this made every interaction they’ve had worth it.

(Y/n) consoled him as well as grieved for their own feelings, knowing just how vastly different their worlds were, and silently accepting they’d be destined for a road of destruction, but for the moment, just this one moment, maybe the two of them could be happy. They felt his arms pull them closer as they spoke softly, making the moment between them as personal as it could be—no hero, no villain, just human.

“Happy Birthday, Katsuki.”

#bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #its loving :clap: and appreciating :clap: bakugo hour :clap:#bnha drabbles #mha drabbles #boku no hero academia drabbles #my hero academia drabbles #bakugo birthday #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader

116 notes · View notes

helloalycia · 5 years

Text

a painful return // carol danvers

summary: your girlfriend, Carol, is always returning home from missions bruised and battered. This once, she returns injury-free, which you thought was a miracle, but of course, that just isn't the case.

warning/s: idk I guess mentions of losing someone you love?

author's note: I have no idea what this is, it's pretty shitty but I also kinda like it too? idk but yeah aha enjoy my gals (and guys, if there are any reading)

masterlist

I struggled to pull on my second shoe as I kept my toast balanced between my teeth. I was running extremely late for work because of my stupid alarm and the last thing I needed was to hit the morning traffic.

As if the world was completely against me, I heard a persistent knocking on my flat door, causing me to roll my eyes. Talk about wrong timing.

I finished yanking on my shoe before stuffing the rest of my toast in my mouth. I realised that was probably a dumb move as I struggled to shout out: "Give me a second!" to whoever was at the door, it instead coming out as a series of muffled noises.

I headed to the door, managing to swallow my toast as I pulled it open, not bothering to check who it was. You can imagine my surprise when I saw my girlfriend, who had been on a mission for three weeks with no contact allowed whatsoever, stood there with a small smile on her lips.

"Would you believe me if I said I lost my keys?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow playfully.

I couldn't help but let out a laugh, relieved to see her looking well. I wasn't sure when she was going to come back - she said it could be a month at the least. When she usually came back from a mission, she was always recovering from some life-threatening injury. But here she was. Perfectly fine.

"Oh my god, Carol!" I immediately embraced her in a hug, feeling tears prick at my eyes. "You're here!"

She chuckled as she wrapped her arms around my waist, holding me close. I closed my eyes, unable to stop grinning. She was really here.

"I missed you so much," I said, pulling away, but keeping her hand in mine. I brought her inside our flat and shut the door behind us. "I thought you weren't going to be back for at least another few weeks."

She nodded, stepping forward and using her finger to wipe away a stray tear I didn't even know had fallen. A concerned smile was on her face. "I know, but it ended earlier than planned. Come on, don't cry, darling."

I didn't know what else to do but laugh, using my finger to dry the corners of my eyes. "I'm sorry, I just- wow. You're really here. And you're okay. I mean, you seem okay. Are you okay?"

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at my question. "I'm okay."

I felt relief spread through me as I nodded, thanking God she was well. I don't think I could have taken it if she had come back to me battered and bruised like usual - it hurt me to see her in so much pain, and I was always afraid I would lose her.

"Work!" I blurted, realisation hitting me as I saw the clock behind her head. I was late. "Oh my- Carol- damn!"

I thought to myself, trying to find a way to maybe get out of work. I didn't have any sick days left, so that wouldn't work. Plus I had that presentation to prepare for, so it wouldn't help. I also had to help my colleague with his presentation and-

"Hey, don't worry about!" she spoke, bringing me back to reality. She grabbed my hands and squeezed them reassuringly. "I'll be here when you come back. And we can catch up then. I want to hear about everything you got up to when I was gone."

I smiled, nodding my head. She looked so beautiful and all I could think about was how lucky I was to have her.

"I'll ring you on my break, and again at lunch," I promised her, unfortunately having to let go of her hands and grab my bag from the kitchen counter, "and again when I'm on my way back." I grabbed my coat from beside the door and stopped before her. "I'll see you later."

She laughed, already trying to push me to the door which she had opened now. "Okay, okay, I don't doubt any of that, Y/N, now go! You're going to be late!"

I nodded and was about to leave, before suddenly turning around. She raised an eyebrow with amusement.

"I forgot to say that I love you," I breathed out, before moving forward and pressing my lips to hers. I hadn't kissed her in so long, but I could never forget how she made me feel when we did.

When we broke apart, she grinned at me, her eyes meeting mine. "I love you, too. Now go."

I smiled and gave her a haste kiss before leaving, half-running to the lift so I wouldn't be late. I honestly couldn't wait to be back with her later.

***

I did exactly as I said I would - called Carol during my break, my lunch and on the commute home. I just missed her so much and she was stuck in my mind all day. I was on a natural high at the thought of having her back here with me, safe.

Carol never discussed the specifics of the missions she went on, whether that be with S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Avengers themselves. She tried to keep that part of her life separate from ours, and I was never one to pry. If anything, I kind of preferred it because I would probably have a heart attack every time she mentioned almost dying. It happened more times than you'd think and it worried me every time, especially when she returned to me after being patched up for some major injury.

She would come home, hurt and bandaged, and I would look after her the best I could, all whilst trying to push away the fact that one day she might not come back alive. It terrified me, imagining a life without Carol, but I knew it was her job. She was a hero who saved lives and she loved doing that. I loved watching her do it. But it didn't make it any easier to handle.

That's why this time was even more special than all the other times, if possible. She was well, uninjured and safe. How it should always be.

When I returned home (quite quickly, might I add), I saw Carol in the kitchen cooking. It warmed my heart, seeing the look of concentration on her face as she managed the pans on the stove.

"You didn't have to cook," I said when entering the kitchen, a smile tugging at my lips. "You just got back. You must be exhausted."

Her eyes lit up when she saw me and she pulled me in for a hug before kissing me on the cheek. A hand around my waist still, she led me to the stove to show me what she was doing.

"I wanted to," she said, glancing at me. "You deserve it. I'm making spaghetti bolognese. Your favourite."

I nodded. "I'm impressed, Danvers."

She squeezed my waist a little. "You go get changed. It should be done when you come back."

I rested my hand on hers, bringing it up to my mouth to kiss it gently, before leaving her side to freshen up. Seeing Carol acting all domestic was a very nice change of pace compared to how I usually found her after a long mission, and it brought a smile to my face. God, I just loved her so much.

We had a lovely meal that evening and I caught Carol up on all that she missed, which actually wasn't that much now that I had said it aloud. Nonetheless, she insisted on hearing about all of my mundane routine without her and I appreciated her listening to me. I asked about how her mission was and without dwelling on it for too long, she assured me it went perfect hence why it ended early. I left it at that, as did she.

When we finished eating, Carol stood up, grabbing our plates, ready to take them to the sink.

"I can clean up, Carol, come on, you've just gotten home," I said, also standing up.

She rolled her eyes playfully, already moving to the sink. "It's fine, Y/N. You've been at work all day. Just let me do something, okay?" She stopped halfway on her walk to the sink, a flash of discomfort crossing her expression.

I grew concerned as I stepped towards her, about to take the dishes from her hands. "Carol, love, are you okay?"

She moved the dishes from my grasp and a reassuring smile appeared in an instant. "Yeah, sorry. I just- you know when you walk and your foot does that weird cramp thing? That happened. It's good now."

I raised an eyebrow, studying her curiously. "Okay, whatever you say..."

She grinned at me, which put any of my doubts at ease, before ushering me out of the kitchen. "Go. Go on. I got this."

I smiled at her, watching her with adoration. I gave her a quick hug from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck, before leaving her be. If she wanted to clear up, who was I to argue? She'd just keep protesting and Carol was too stubborn for her own good.

After she cleared everything away, we both spent an hour or so watching some TV before I started to grow sleepy. I'd been up pretty early and always got tired after a long day at work, yet I was trying so hard to make this night last. Carol was with me and I had missed her so much. I know it made no sense - I'd see her when I woke up beside her in the morning - but I just wanted to be with her a little longer.

"Come on, sleepy head," Carol said, kissing the top of my head. My eyes were closed, but I heard the TV turn off. "Let's get to bed."

"I'm awake," I said, sitting up, finding it difficult to keep my eyes open. "Just a little longer, come on. I like being here with you."

She let out a laugh, standing up. "We can be together in our bedroom. Where you can have a good night's rest because God knows you're gonna fall asleep any moment now."

It took a moment for her words to register in my mind, before I glanced up at her, one eye open. "What?"

She laughed, suddenly picking me up bridal-style. "To bed. Now."

I didn't bother arguing anymore, instead closing my eyes as I allowed her to carry me to our room. She tucked me in bed, before joining my side and spooning me from behind. I smiled with comfort, intertwining our fingers.

"You not gonna take your hoodie off?" I mumbled, eyes closed. "It's pretty warm tonight."

I was too tired to realise she hesitated. "Erm, no. It's comfy."

I hummed in response, not really hearing her anyway. All I knew was that I hadn't slept that well since she'd left for her mission.

***

I woke up the next morning to my alarm clock ringing like a drill in my head. Groaning, I snoozed it and patted the other side of the bed, hoping to find Carol there. She rarely slept in, but I was hoping this morning would have been one of those days. Apparently not.

"God damn you and your early rising, plane-flying butt," I mumbled, rubbing my head to wake myself up.

"Good morning to you, too," I heard her voice, sensing the amusement.

I opened my eyes and sat up in bed, seeing her leaning against the doorframe, already up and dressed.

"Would it kill you to be there when I woke up so I can have morning cuddles?" I complained like a five-year-old.

She grinned. "You're awfully cranky at someone who just made you breakfast."

I narrowed my eyes at her, seeing the pride in her expression. "I hate you."

"Because you feel bad," she said pointedly, knowing that was exactly why. "Now come on, get up. You have a little time before going to work to sit with me."

I sighed, unable to stop the smile forming on my face.

I got ready for work before joining Carol in the kitchen, seeing the mini spread she'd put together for me. Eggs, toast, beans, hash browns, pancakes, pastries... geez, she'd gone all out.

"You're hiding something," I immediately said, stopping beside her as I looked at the counter full of food.

"Excuse me?" She laughed, pulling me close to her side by looping an arm around my waist.

"You're hiding something," I stated knowingly. "You cooked dinner, you cleaned up, you made me breakfast... I love you, Carol, and you're the sweetest person ever, but you're definitely hiding something. So, spill. Did you break something of mine? Lose something? Forget something?"

She chuckled, kissing me on the cheek. "Do I not treat you regularly enough for this to be classed as a rare thing?"

I eyeballed her curiously. "You treat me, yes. But this is strange. My detective senses are tingling."

She pressed her lips together to contain her laughter.

"Nonetheless, I will eat the food because I am not one for waste," I concluded, before taking a seat at the counter.

She let out a laugh as she joined my side. "Glad you made up your mind, darling."

***

My morning at work went by as usual, but I was adamant on getting my work finished so I could try to leave early. I had no meetings booked for the afternoon, so it was just a matter of working quickly enough. I just wanted to be with Carol - I still wasn't used to her being back and I appreciated it so much, knowing it might not be long before she might have to leave again, even for a day.

Thankfully, I was able to get my work done and leave early, hoping to go home and surprise Carol. However, when I reached our flat, I couldn't exactly find her. She wasn't in the kitchen or living-room, so I headed to our bedroom, calling out her name. When I heard a crashing sound in the bathroom, I furrowed my eyebrows and went over there.

"Carol?" I called, trying my luck and opening the door.

"Y/N, no-!"

"Oh my god!" I widened my eyes when I saw Carol bending down, picking up the contents of a first aid kit. She was wearing no shirt, her hand pressed to a bandage on her abdomen, but there was a lot of blood everywhere. The blue liquid soaked the bandage and several more on the floor.

"It's not as bad as it looks!" she was quick to defend, standing up and moving forward to approach me, but she grimaced as she moved.

"Sit down, right now," I told her, leading her to the edge of the bathtub.

"Y/N-"

"Right fucking now, Carol," I said sternly, feeling a lump form in my throat.

She sensed my anger and did as I said, sitting at the edge of the bathtub. I neared her and carefully looked beneath her stained bandage. There were stitches that ripped open, an injury that had previously been looked at evidently. A fresh one, maybe a few days old now...? The skin around it was still raw, trying to heal.

"I tore the stitches trying to grab something from the shelf in the kitchen," Carol muttered, unable to meet my eyes.

I clenched my jaw and nodded, before going to our well-stocked first aid kit, thanks to the many times she'd come back injured. I knew barely anything about first aid before meeting Carol. Now, I knew way more than the average person should have. Such as how to disinfect and suture a wound, at least long enough until a professional could take a look at it.

So that's what I did. An unnerving silence surrounded us as I got to work, temporarily fixing her injury whilst she sat there and said nothing. When I was finished, I washed my hands, cleaned up, and packed the first aid kit away back in the cabinet above the sink.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," Carol finally spoke, guiltily.

I saw her reflection in the mirror, watching me with a frown. I turned around, leaning against the sink, and stared at her, my eyes flickering to the freshly bandaged injury. She'd had that since she returned and hadn't said a word. That explained the pain she felt last night. The hoodie she was wearing all the time, not wanting to give away the bandage under her shirt. She'd thought this through.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" I finally asked, meeting her eyes with glossy ones.

"I didn't want to worry you-"

"Screw that, Carol!" I stood up straight, glaring at her. "You could be in the safest place on Earth- heck, in the Universe, and I would still worry about you! I have every right to know when my girlfriend is hurt. What if I had hurt you? Made it worse? What if your stitches tore open in your sleep and I woke up to find you in a pool of your own blood? Huh? What then?"

She tried to stand up, her hand resting on her bandage. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I just didn't want to scare you. I wanted things to be different this time. I come back from my missions and I see how scared you get. I didn't want this to be the same. I thought- I thought it would work. But you came home early and I didn't expect this to happen."

I crossed my arms, hugging myself as I looked down to my shoes. "For Gods sake, Carol... I get scared because I love you. I'm terrified, okay? I'm terrified that one day your injuries will be too severe. Or maybe one day you won't come back to me. That's the truth." I looked up to meet her eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat. "But it's even scarier with you pretending to be okay. Because if something did happen, I wouldn't have known. I wouldn't be able to help you."

Carol frowned. "I didn't... I didn't think about it like that..."

It was quiet for the moment, before I sighed and said, "You need to get that checked out again. I only know so much. I'll drive you to Tony's."

She didn't say anything, but she did walk out of the bathroom and grab her jacket. I helped her put it on before grabbing my keys and taking her to the car. I helped her in the passenger's seat before jumping into the driver's seat. It was still silent between us and I wasn't sure what to say.

"I really am sorry," she said, looking up at me with a guilty expression.

I managed a tired smile, resting my hand on her thigh and squeezing it gently. "I know you are... we'll get you fixed up and you can rest up like you should have done initially. It'll be okay."

"And us?"

I grabbed her hand and pressed it to my lips, kissing her. "We'll be okay, too. I promise."

She nodded and I saw the relief in her eyes.

"I love you," I said, watching her with what I hoped was reassurance.

"I love you, too. I'm... I'm sorry."

I intertwined our fingers and squeezed gently. "I know, Carol."

#carol danvers #carol danvers imagine #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagine #Brie Larson

143 notes · View notes

just0nemorepage · 5 years

Photo

Toil & Trouble: 15 Tales of Women & Witchcraft || Jessica Spotswood & Tess Sharpe || 405 pages ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Top 3 Genres: Short Stories / Fantasy / Young Adult

Synopsis: Are you a good witch or a bad witch?

Glinda the Good Witch. Elphaba the Wicked Witch. Willow. Sabrina. Gemma Doyle. The Mayfair Witches. Ursula the Sea Witch. Morgan le Fey. The three weird sisters from Macbeth.

History tells us women accused of witchcraft were often outsiders: educated, independent, unmarried, unwilling to fall in line with traditional societal expectations.

Bold. Powerful. Rebellious.

A bruja’s traditional love spell has unexpected results. A witch’s healing hands begin to take life instead of giving it when she ignores her attraction to a fellow witch. In a terrifying future, women are captured by a cabal of men crying witchcraft and the one true witch among them must fight to free them all. In a desolate past, three orphaned sisters prophesize for a murderous king. Somewhere in the present, a teen girl just wants to kiss a boy without causing a hurricane.

From good witches to bad witches, to witches who are a bit of both, this is an anthology of diverse witchy tales from a collection of diverse, feminist authors. The collective strength of women working together—magically or mundanely--has long frightened society, to the point that women’s rights are challenged, legislated against, and denied all over the world. Toil & Trouble delves deep into the truly diverse mythology of witchcraft from many cultures and feminist points of view, to create modern and unique tales of witchery that have yet to be explored.

Finished: August 20th, 2019.

Progress: 2 / 15. 13.33% complete.

My Rating: ★★★★★. [5/5]

My Review: [Under the read more - NOT SPOILER FREE]

I've been working on reading this book for 8 months. 8. MONTHS. It didn't take me so long because it was bad – HELL no. The complete opposite. This is one of the best books I've read in my entire LIFE, and I wanted to make it last.

The intersectionality and diversity among women. The unapologetic strength and friendship and love and spirit and power and RAGE they each had in their own ways. Ooooh, my god. This SPEAKS to me.

I wish I had enough skill to put how this made me feel into words. I wish I was left with more coherency than reeling with emotions and my own strength of will. I wish I could say flat out what very important discovery about myself this book led to. But alas.. words have never been my strongest suite when I'm feeling highly emotional, and it's not about to start now. And that's okay.

Just know that this book is an instant, high-ranking, top-five lifelong favorite and I will continue to praise it as such for as long as I hold righteous anger in my soul.

As I do with short stories, I reviewed each individual one and provided comments for each one. Out of 15 stories, my average rating for this one is –4.82.– I hope you realize exactly how rare that is for a book of short stories, to rate nearly ALL of them a good and solid five stars.

With no further ado: I present my ratings.

Starsong ; Tehlor Kay Mejia - ★★★★★. 5/5. #SHRIEKING

If this story is a promise of what all the others in this book are going to be like, then SIGN ME THE FUCK UP, I am SO GLAD I picked this to read next. Who cares that it’s not around Halloween. Not only is the representation spot on, but the AESTHETIC. OH MAN. Oh man oh man oh man.

I LOVED THIS ONE. To BITS AND PIECES. And found myself heartily disappointed that this is in fact only a short story, and not a full length novel. Because I’d read the SHIT out of a full length novel that stems from this. It is SO cute and pure and full of new love and promise and hope and optimism and the shit I’ve been shaping my life around lately and just, oh my god. I am on a cloud. This story is pure sunshine on my cloud, gold lined and full of wonder, and I REALLY TRULY HOPE the rest of the stories in this book are going to be anything even close to this.

I mean, look at me. IT ROMANTICIZED MY REVIEW WRITING.

Real thoughts: I wish to hell and back that this girl was real, and her social media accounts were real. I’d follow her EVERYWHERE. Her attitude and confidence is the kind of inspirational glow-up shit I need in my life on a daily basis.

Afterbirth ; Andrea Cremer - ★★★★★. 5/5. I didn't love it as much as the first one, but it's still well deserving of 5 stars. A much more traditional setting in terms of witchcraft – 1650s New England – with a single traditional plot point – the midwife convicted of witchcraft is hung. The differences are in her relationship with her apprentice, someone who discovers her true magic and seeks to learn more and take the lessons upon herself, rather than think of it the way the rest of her village would. The spell book and the magic lives on in Deliverance and the new baby girl birthed at the beginning of the story, and the positivity, loyalty, love and acceptance in Deliverance and Miriam's relationship spoke worlds to me in the short pages it got to live on.

I am only unsure about the presence of the "monster" birthed right after the girl was. It didn't really seem to serve any purpose, and it was never fully explained what it was or how it came to be, or why it was there. It seems more like a plot point that was just entirely dropped, or only used to further Miriam's accusations for witchcraft.

OTHERWISE though. The strength, resolve, determination and resiliency in this story did things to me.

The Heart in Her Hands ; Tess Sharpe - ★★★★★. 5/5. Oh man, another one that did things to me.

I've NEVER seen this kind of shit in a story before, let alone in a full-length novel. AND I REALLY WANT TO NOW. Sign me the eff UP for a full length novel of this cause SHIT, I never knew how relieving it is to read about someone who truly says "fuck you" to fate, deals with the consequences, and then learns to accept them. Someone who truly goes "my family and community are toxic and unhealthy for me, regardless of the fact that "they're my family" or whatever, so I am going to leave and never come back."

And just.. the depiction of a kitchen witch, and a whole community of witches living together, and the second gay couple in the book (we're on two out of two for relationships here!), and the pure fury and spitfire in Bette's soul and spirit, and the complete and utter "yeah no" spitting in the face of the supposed soul mate Lady Fate had picked out for her… I can't tell you how REFRESHING it is that she said "yeah no" and STUCK with it, and nothing caused her to face it or regret it, since there's nothing to face or regret. She made a decision and he never cropped up again and just oh my god. I am HERE for this shit.

I wonder if her soul mate being a guy indicates that she's bisexual, or that Lady Fate only pairs people up heterosexually.

I don't know, I just LOVE THIS WHOLE THING. Young people going "fuck you" to the system and breaking out on their own when they don't fit inside it, the old magic of the mountain, writing your own destiny, Auggie coming for Bette, and honestly right here is where my train of thought was interrupted for 15 minutes so I forget what else I was going to say. BUT YOU GET THE IDEA.

So far I need full-length books of every one of these stories, and I'm only three into this collection.

Death in the Sawtooths ; Lindsay Smith - ★★★★☆. 4/5. This one loses a star just for the accents of the people, and how much it grated on my nerves. But there is a poetic nature to this one that I'm not entirely sure I can articulate that well. Just, the idea of a priestess of death who still tries so hard to do what is right, even when the dark urges of revenge tug at her own heart, even when she herself is treated like shit, even when she has every reason to react with anger.. I don't know, there's something beautiful about it. Just as much as the idea of Mattie actually relating to the kid who was responsible for stealing people's souls, and the idea of a childhood bully apologizing for their actions as an adult and meaning it.

Now, granted, I'm not one for mercy or forgiveness. I'd be more likely to become the boy than to become Mattie – though perhaps, I'd become someone else in between. I'd give in to my anger, but not in ways that would prove all the stereotypes against me right. I'd find some other way. But I can appreciate the idea of someone sticking it out and doing the right thing, even if it makes people hate you. And for the most part, as long as it doesn't give shitty people a pass for being shitty, I'm all for doing that exact kind of thing.

I'm not really sure what else to say about this one. This one's more food for thought, than something that I can easily translate into a readable review. It was fascinating, thought provoking, and very well done, but I'm glad to be moving on to the next one.

The Truth About Queenie ; Brandy Colbert - ★★★★★. 5/5. Not as strong as a five as the other fives, but STILL A FIVE. I actually finished this one yesterday and I've been basically just sitting here nodding in appreciation since.

Notable points – a family of black witches? YISSS.

How supportive all the family is of each other, despite being mostly ashamed of being witches? Yissss.

I LOVE how Blythe and Queenie support each other, EVEN THOUGH Queenie's totally head over heels in love with Webb. I'm not here for any of that girl hate bullshit. This was REFRESHING.

AND. How Webb admitted he doesn't have feelings for Queenie, and let her down honestly and cleanly, and kicked a love triangle in the face. How the friendship still stands strong. How he stays loyal to Blythe. How Queenie STILL heals Blythe – and actually does it!! – and accepts herself fully and stands proud on her own now that she's clear-headed after not trying to do things for Webb anymore.

Just.

YASSSS.

YOU GO GIRL.

I am SO HERE for this independent lady gloriousness.

The Moonapple Menagerie ; Shveta Thakrar - ★★★☆☆. 3/5. This one seemed of significantly worse quality than the others. There are still bits that really did it for me – the Indian mythology and culture! humanizing the churel (if reluctantly – I would have liked to see everyone be much more accepting of her from the start)! the idea of weaving spellcraft into performing arts in such a way that mundane humans don't notice! the much more fantastical use of magic! the normalized disabled character!! – but quite honestly, it was the main character and the completely unrealistic dialogue and character interaction throughout that turned me off of this one. I couldn't follow Shalini's plight at *all*, and even though I can relate to that level of writer's block, coming up with ANYTHING AT ALL truly is not as hard as she made it sound. And the fact that her story didn't have any conflict in it at *all* AND that the churel critiqued all the parts that she did write tells me that honestly Shalini may just be a terrible writer. So, I had a hard time empathizing with this one. I kind of wanted her to leave the coven, by the end.

The other parts that I still really loved are what kept this at a three. And honestly my favorite character is probably the churel. No joke. My favorite part was right at the end when she says she's going to deal with her "husband."

FUCK HIM UP, GURL. MAKE HIM PAY.

The Legend of Stone Mary ; Robin Talley - ★★★★☆. 4/5. This one loses a star, since it didn't really give me a chance to get to know or like much of any of the characters, it all happened a little too quickly to have much emotional depth, and I don't really agree with the idea of forced forgiveness.

Also, Wendy's grandmother seems like the HBIC in terms of local curses and I wish she was a more prominent part of the story.

But I *did* enjoy the normalized lesbianism, as well as the message of doing what you feel is right no matter what anyone around you may think.

Plus like… how friggen powerful do you have to be to stop a generations-long curse. That was pretty awesome.

The One Who Stayed ; Nova Ren Suma - ★★★★★. 5/5. TW: Rape, for this one. Though never explicitly described, or even directly named.

I'm going to have to keep my thoughts about this one short. But I absolutely adore the embracing of female anger and rage, the implications that these things happen to everyone all around you, that you have no idea who it could have happened to – or who could really be a witch, for that matter – and I absolutely 100% feel sisterhood with these women who so badly want revenge.

The power of feminine anger, man. Righteous and furious anger. I am so here for this shit. I would seek out this circle in a heartbeat, if only I could.

I only wish I knew how exactly they would make Jayson and his friends pay for it. But I know the possibilities, and I know they're taking it into their own hands, and that they aren't above death. That is satisfactory enough for me.

Divine are the Stars ; Zoraida Cordova - ★★★★☆. 4/5. This one gets four stars mostly because I feel like a lot of it went over my head.

Excellent symbolism and representation though. 👌👌👌

It was very short, and yet it still felt like it got across the feeling of death and renewal and finding oneself, and I heavily enjoyed how easily and simply they got rid of Enrique. Casual murder? Sure, why not! He had it coming anyway.

Personally, I, too, would like to turn into a tree when I die.

Honestly though it felt like it moved a little too fast, as soon as Marimar successfully found her way inside the house. I know the story was only some 12 pages long, but, still. It felt pretty rushed, and that's likely why it felt like a lot of it went over my head.

I still enjoyed it well enough, though. I still appreciated the Hispanic (Latinx?) family, the connection between Marimar and her cousin, the message of female power passed on from daughter to daughter. It just didn't necessarily resonate with me, personally, is all.

Daughters of Baba Yaga ; Brenna Yovanoff - ★★★★★. 5/5. Okay, THIS one is more like it. This is the kind of shit I came to this book for, and the kind of shit I live and breathe for. If I could give this beyond five stars, I ABSOLUTELY would.

I absolutely adore the friendship between two very different types of girls who both extract revenge in their own very different ways – one is sweet and threateningly kind and devastates you with the truth. The other… well. I think a curse of 50lbs of pig guts stuffed inside 15 different lockers says enough.

This kind of vengeance on those who deserve it is the kind of thing that gives my life purpose, and let me tell you, this bad bitch is MY KIND OF BITCH and I'd be BFFs with her if I could and I want a whole novel of nothing but her fucking wrecking people who have had it coming.

I aspire to be more like Stony. We need more women like her in this world.

P.S. The sweet poetic irony of a girl named Harmony sweetly doling out the worst kinds of truths on this story's shittiest people has not escaped me.

The Well Witch ; Kate Hart - ★★★★★. 5/5. Awww yeah. Nothing like sweet, sweet revenge to asshole men.

It's damn well implied that those two men are left for dead, and good riddance for it.

Also, I am in love with the fact that Elsa decided to go look for Zeb on her own, rather than continue waiting in the conditions the other two men had her trapped in.

AND that she took all the water with her and left them to watch their shelter and supplies burn into nothingness.

There's not much else to say about this one, really. The historical accuracy of it seems pretty spot on, Elsa is described as a WoC, and there was just the right amount of pace and development to be interesting. Also – Zeb is a good man. He gives me hope. One out of three actually being decent sounds about accurate for the ratio of good to shitty men lol.

But this one's a good one. I heavily enjoyed it, and GOD I am loving this book overall.

Beware of Girls with Crooked Mouths ; Jessica Spotswood - ★★★★★. 5/5. Wow. That was not the ending I expected at all.

It was all so dark and creepy and powerful and scary and holy shit I loved the feminine power in this story.

And open bisexuality in a historical fantasy!! That wasn't frowned upon, and nobody blinked an eye!!

Also. Can I say how much I ADORE that the sweet, gentle thing that is Georgie is the one who has the affinity towards fire, and is filled with utter RAGE? Holy w h a t. And Elle's open, unembarrassed sexuality? I am HERE for the unapologetic attitude ALL these girls have.

I really feel like I should say more about this, but I'm still just reeling, and at this point (it's July seriously wtf), I'm feeling kind of anxious to finally finish this book rofl.

Love Spell ; Anna-Marie McLemore - ★★★★★. 5/5. It's August now and I am DETERMINED TO FINISH THIS BOOK, goddamn. So I finished this one all in one sitting lol.

ADRIAN IS TRANSGENDER. Oh man that was the first thing that popped out at me.

And that someone can be Catholic AND a witch?? That's something I've seen surrounding the witchy community in real life, always in heavy debate, so it's quite nice to see it addressed in story form!

Plus like – the underlying tone of women supporting other women, and the disobedience of the typical Catholic fear, and religions accepting other religions, and I just – this one was a good one. It was a great one to come back to after a month of no reading.

And it's multi-cultural!! I will admit, I'm uneducated enough to not know if it's Mexican or Spanish culture – I –think- it's Mexican – but, STILL. So wonderfully done!!

The Gherin Girls ; Emery Lord - ★★★★★. 5/5. Goddamn. If I could give this one more than 5 stars, I would.

Sisterly support through an abusive relationship, and the VERY REAL feelings that come with trying to recover from it. In both the abuser's and the witness's points of view. Oh, man. I've never seen abuse and the trauma that follows captured so well before. I wasn't going to read this story in one sitting, but I had to – it nailed it so well, it reminded me of my own abused past and I couldn't set it down without knowing how it ended.

And the note of magic is so subtle and unique and wonderfully well done – and the sexuality of all three of the sisters are different! and they all have their own happy endings! and everyone is SO SUPPORTIVE of each other – god, no one was shitty. (Except for Wyatt, but, yanno.) This one speaks to me. On a very, very deep level. I just.. wow.

I felt the very same fire burning in myself as Rosie did when the story ends. I recognized it, and feel connected to her in a way I don't feel with most people I'm actually close to in real life.

This story sobered me. It reminded me of all I've been through, and just how rough the road to recovery was. But it also reminded me of how far I've come, and where I'm at now. What I've made for myself. What I've become, who I've curated myself into. And that.. no much can make me feel more strong or powerful than remembering that.

Why they Watch us Burn ; Elizabeth May - ★★★★★. 5/5. Well. Fuck.

THAT was a powerful ending to this whole anthology.

And left me feeling ALL KINDS OF PISSED OFF, let me tell you. Holy shit. The retribution at the end was implied and powerful, but I wanted it to be more explicit. I wanted to see those men SUFFER.

I don't even have words for this story, other than that it spoke to me on a deep, crushing, soul-igniting level. EVERYTHING about it – the unfair misogyny, the suffering, the sisterhood, the strength. The embracing of the very thing they were accused of. The pure love between the MC and her lover. The spirit, and the STRENGTH, I've already said it but oh my god, the strength. I feel as they did at the end. I feel powerful and unbreakable and full of rage and the need to make somebody pay, because I, too, have suffered at the hands of men and I would tear apart anybody who ever touches or treats ANY woman like that with my own bare hands.

The message of power this story gives for anyone who calls themselves female… I can't describe it. I don't know if it can be described.

But I would treat this story, and this whole book, as my bible, if I could.

#book reviews #toil and trouble #jessica spotswood #tess sharpe #★★★★★#short stories #fantasy #young adult #witches #paranormal #glbtqa #feminism #favorites #stunning covers #owned #print book #stand alone #jomp original

7 notes · View notes

heart-of-vecna · 5 years

Note

Tell me about Vecna and your D&D character!

INHALES i’m sorry i’m going to info dump because I love my AWFUL SON

Stuff about awful terrible Haothahvun Greyless and his equally awful patron Vecna

(art by the wonderful @42point195kilometres )

Haothahvun Greyless is a... humorously mislead man.

[Basic Info: Haothahvun Greyless - (Trans)Male Human Neutral Evil Cleric, ~28, 5′07″ / 124 lbs]

He grew up under the name Lili Greyless in a small village to a retired adventurer and his wife, and lived a relatively mundane life as a small rural farm village girl until the age of 9, when a wizard Haothahvun’s father had thwarted in his humble adventures came back to try to find revenge on about the only member of the party who he could find. This wizard wasn’t anyone really noteworthy, but in trying to get to Haothahvun’s father he did manage to get his hands on Haothahvun and his younger brother - leading to his brother’s death, and to the magical scar on the right side of his body that left him mostly blind in his right eye. Needless to say, the whole event was severely traumatizing, and Haothahvun holed himself up in his house until he was in his late teens and his parents managed to find him a apprenticeship with a traveling bookbinder.

Haothahvun spent maybe two years with this man before hopping from one magic or scholarly-related apprenticeship to another, eventually going by his father’s name of Haothahvun and naming himself Haothahvun Greyless II. Through this, he wound up in a decent sized city as the apprentice of a alchemist who, upon seeing Haothahvun’s interest and dedication to learning, introduced him to a little ‘group’ he was a part of. For the first four-five years in this little ‘group’, Greyless was simply told it was a cult or group dedicated to learning and to old, forgotten knowledge. It wasn’t until he committed his first sacrifice as his initiation that he found out that there was a deeper layer to the cult, and that that cult worshiped Vecna. The cult had become somewhat of a family for Haothahvun, and having nowhere else to go and really nothing else to do he accepted his initiation.

And thus began Haothahvun’s spiraling journey into obsession. Haothahvun took his duties as a cultist very seriously, as he did his other jobs, but the further he learned and researched his patron the more curious and interested he became. After the death of the previous priest-in-training, Haothahvun managed to secure the position for himself, and with his very devoted nature to the task was given the chance to become one of few more ‘permanent’ priests to the city’s hidden temple. Inevitably, being the sort of dumbass he is, his infatuation with Vecna was uncovered because he was playing chicken with some other cultists with a Circle of Truth, and through a series of questions about Haothahvun’s probably non-existent love life his fellow cultists awkwardly came to the understanding that Haothahvun definitely has the hots for their lich god. A great secret to learn if using it also wasn’t going to possibly evoke your god’s wrath. Nobody teased him about it again out of fear of being smited and Haothahvun definitely was 3 seconds from lighting himself on fire.

This has always been the sort of point where my intention has always been to leave the actual relationship / etc with Vecna up to the DM but since he’s not IN a campaign we’ll just slap down my shitty HCs

It has always been my idea at this point that while Vecna was fully aware of Haothahvun (of course, as a actual priest of his), he had never paid a ton of attention - why would he? But that fact undoubtably was rather surprising, and for the better or the worse drew Vecna’s attention. Haothahvun’s patron wasn’t pleased, but despite berating him (more for letting people discover that than anything), he didn’t tell Haothahvun to stop, or not to, or really anything along those lines. So, in true perhaps overly optimistic and/or naive fashion, Haothahvun absolutely just let his infatuation run rampant. Because nothing is safer than being madly in love with your evil undead god.

Haothahvun goes out of his way to dig up bits of magic and important political secrets to give Vecna as sort of ‘gifts’, along with various things that remind Haothahvun of his patron (bits of rare black stones, a snake skull made of gold, etc.) Vecna isn’t... pleased, but is curious, because it’s not very often someone comes to him with what seems like actual, genuine interest or infatuation. Not looking for power, not playing games, not sidling up just for benefits, not. Haothahvun genuinely, stupidly, foolishly, seems to actually be in love with him. And Vecna is fucking baffled by how absolutely out of his mind Haothahvun seems to be, but at the same time is mildly entertained by how doggedly loyal Haothahvun is.

I have always imagined, because I can do whatever I want and nobody can stop me, that Vecna entertains Haothahvun’s rather pitiful attempts at courting him. He’s rather curious how far this mortal will go to try to win his actual affections. Maybe part of him is curious what, if anything, could even work - besides, it’s not like he ever had any sort of romantic affairs when he’d been alive. His one attempt at marriage ended when the woman refused him and he slaughtered her whole family in front of her (canonically). And Haothahvun keeps trying, and keeps his attention, and keeps making his way further along in the priest hierarchy while he’s at it on his own accord, maybe in hopes of showing his devotion.

Vecna is the one who calls him Greyless, which becomes the name Haothahvun holds most dear to himself, even if all his other acquaintances still call him ‘Haothahvun’.

The ultimate fate of Greyless and his infatuation I haven’t decided on. On one hand, I would like to imagine a story where Greyless manages to win his patron’s interest to any degree. Greyless, though somewhat of a optimistic idiot at times, is a very bright man, and a undyingly loyal servant, and while Vecna is no stranger to backstabbing whoever he needs to when they’ve lost their use and keeping people at arm’s length, Greyless is a peculiar anomaly that he perhaps, to his own chagrin, finds interesting. I would also like to imagine Vecna as sometimes that overly exuberant villain who is a bit over-the-top with how he appreciates his consorts, where Greyless ends up stationed out at one of his fortresses and is doted on in the secret privacy of Vecna’s domains.

I also absolutely accept the world where Vecna just pushes Greyless around, because no matter how cruel he is to him Greyless will come back with the same stupid, foolish adoration and love as he did before. There is probably nothing that will steer Greyless away, because he’s hopelessly and very unhealthily obsessed and has no idea of how to cope with it.

Or maybe a mix of both of those.

Regardless, the TLD i’m so sorry for the info dump is -

Haothathvun is a big dumb gay idiot who really wants his god to notice him and maybe love/sleep with him, and Vecna is really, really baffled at what the ever loving fuck is wrong with this kid but entertained enough to see how many hoops Haothahvun is willing to jump through for him.

#haothahvun greyless #reply #dnd #dungeons and dragons #tabletop #Greyless is v self indulgent leave me be #let me live my sad Vecna/Character dreams #rook-the-painter

8 notes · View notes

ellana-ravenwood · 6 years

Text

Never piss off a magician - Bruce Wayne x Reader!Batmom

Well, this idea made me laugh when I thought about it, and after a shitty week, I wanted to write something that was...kinda funny (though it probably isn’t). So I put on a side all my angsty stories (and lord I have a lot of those) and just wrote...this. Hope you’ll like it, as usual, feedbacks are very appreciated. Ok. Here :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

Note to self : never piss off a magician.

Because when you do, you end up in a situation like yours right now.

A rather...delicate one.

The kind that makes you swear a lot and regret your actions...Well, come to think of it, it was probably kind of the point of this little punishment.

If only...if only you hadn’t got into an argument with Zatanna Zatara.

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

Two hours earlier, 5 am, Justice League’s Watchtower :

You were already quite annoyed to start with.

1. You didn’t got much sleep.

2. Back on earth, Alfred called you earlier in the day to say that Tim got suspended from school for a week because he punched another student who was apparently bullying Damian because of his “skin color” (you weren’t mad at Tim, on the contrary you were proud, you were mad at the situation, at the school’s reaction, at that kid who dared to bully your boy, at the fact that if Damian wasn’t the one to punch said kid, it meant that he was feeling pretty crappy...).

3. Your day had been awful, fighting on Mars creatures that were trying to take over the Universe. AGAIN. That was twice this month. And of course it was yours and Bruce’s time to keep an eye on the Worlds that night.

4. You definitely didn’t have enough sleep.

5. Your day before that had been awful anyway, full of fake smiles and acting like you didn’t see paparazzis stalking you. It was your day off (ONE, you had ONE day off each months), couldn’t they leave you alone ? No. No they couldn’t. And the picture of you getting your lunch dumped all over your clothes by a clumsy waiter would be the head cover of people magazine the next day.

6. Your motorcycle wouldn’t start that morning, engine problems. It had just been serviced and you were furious...Even more when you parked your car in the middle of Gotham (you should know better) and came back to slashed tires.

7. YOU. DIDN’T. SLEEP. ENOUGH. THIS. PAST. WEEK.

8. Bruce forbid you to drink one more cup of coffee (you had drunk about fifteen litters that night so...it was reasonable really), and when you told him he wasn’t the boss of you he simply stated that yes, it was true...while keeping any kind of caffeinated drinks out of your reach (quite literally really, as he kept grabbing it from your hand and just raised his arm, so you couldn’t take it back..).

And now, because of that coffee incident and other silly things that were rather unimportant really, you and Bruce were arguing.

So when Zatanna came to you to ask if you could help her with something about her father (you couldn’t even remember what it was exactly, and felt bad afterward, knowing how anything about her father was probably extremely important to her...Come to think of it, you guys probably deserved her “wrath”), you didn’t receive her...well.

Bruce was annoying you and annoyed at you, and you guys were being children, sitting ten feet apart from each other, arms crossed, nose in the air (physical representation of your annoyance), glaring at each other from the corner of your eyes.

Zatanna came to you, and you turned to her in a swift move full of agression (destined to Bruce but....eh, poor magician was “collateral damage” at that point).

She could see you weren’t even listening to her, and barely even paid attention to her presence as you kept eying Bruce angrily.

Zatanna already saw you two get mad at each other for stupid reasons, and then get very petty about everything until the both of you couldn’t even remember the subject of your discord and apologized.

She always thought it was cute how, after a small fight between the two of you, and after the “petty/childish” phase, you both looked miserable. The magician particularly liked Bruce’s puppy eyes, a look she’d never thought she would see on the mighty Batman’s face. Yes, you would both be miserable until you finally made up...the make out session that always ensured though, made everyone in the vicinity highly uncomfortable.

Zatanna knew you wouldn’t help her today, not while being so pissed off, but, you see...Today, she too, wasn’t really in a good mood.

She had a terrible week. Terrible. And finally, some good news were coming her way. About her father. So of course she rushed to the Watchtower, knowing you and Bruce were there, knowing the two of you would be able to help her !

And here she found you, not even taking a look at her.

In retrospect, she regrets a few words she said, and she regrets doing what she did...but on the moment ? Oh it was just delightful !

So sure, she probably shouldn’t have told you two that you were selfish bastards whose problems were mundane and idiotic, but in that instant, it just sounded right.

Of course, she knew that both of you were the least selfish of them all. On the contrary, you were giving too much of your life to “the cause”. And she knew your actual problems were far from mundane and idiotic, she knew it wasn’t easy being part of the “Batfamily”, that it was a lot of pressure and worries and sadness (but also of support and love). She knew she was being a bit unfair...

But in that moment, as you and your husband were being children because of something as stupid as “coffee” (there were probably other reasons, you were both tired and had long days and...eh, Zatanna didn’t care at that time), and didn’t even listen to a single word she said...Well, the magician kinda lost her cool.

She went on a speech about how you were both ridiculous, and didn’t let you the time to retaliate as she just tapped her fingers, grumbled a few words, and left the room fuming, on to the nearest zeta tube.

It took you you about ten seconds to realize what happened.

Just the time to process Zatanna’s speech, realize she was right, and turn to each other to apologize and suggest the idea to go after and...

When you turned around, you were faced with yourself.

When Bruce turned around, he was faced with himself.

Oh. Ok.

Zatanna, in her anger, had just...switched your bodies ?

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

As you were looking at yourself, completely stunned, you realized a few things.

First, you were really short compared to him.

Second, you looked quite dumb with a surprised expression on your face.

Third, this was a disaster. If what you thought happened actually happened, if you weren’t going crazy...Then it was an absolute disaster.

You raised “your” hand in front of your face and..yes. No doubt. They roamed your body enough for you to recognize Bruce’s hands instantly. You were, somehow, in his body...

You were freaking out a bit.

Bruce was too.

First, because you were really short. Or was he tall ? He didn’t know but it was very unnerving to, for the first time in his adult life, have to twist his neck to look at someone.

Second, he looked so stupid with that surprised look on his face ! Like a giant dork or something...

Third, this was a disaster. An absolute disaster.

It was rather easy to guess that Zatanna was the reason this happened, and when he’d finally get over the fact that he had a pair of boobs (boobs that, by the way, he loved very much... his favorite pair of boobs in the universes... yours...oh this was so weird), he’d start to look for her but for now...

This was just an absolute disaster.

Why on this day particularly ?!

It took you guys a good twenty minutes to get over it.

The next hour was spent trying to find Zatanna, but the woman knew how to go incognito...She was actually probably in another dimension by now, and would most likely come back only when she was calmed down.

In the meantime, you had an important day coming up.

Because of course, a couple of terrible days couldn’t be topped with a third one to best them all, could it ?!

Today, both you and Bruce had such a busy schedule and...oh God...you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this !

-It’s going to be ok, my love.

You barely register your own voice saying that. Only, you’re pretty sure you didn’t say anything...Oh, right, Bruce did. Because he was in your body.

You were starting to hyperventilate.

You had a fleeting thought about how strange it must look. The Batman hyperventilating and freaking the hell out.

You finally realized that Bruce was trying to comfort you when you felt a pair of weak arms (at least weaker than usual) circle around your waist and...your waist ?

Usually his arms would grab around your shoulders, one of his hand would entangles itself in your hair. And his head wouldn’t be somewhere in the middle of your chest, but on top of yours and...RIGHT ! WHY DID YOU KEEP FORGETTING THAT YOU JUST EXCHANGED BODY ?!

Bruce felt extremely weird, hugging “you” like so. The last person he hugged like that, with his head so low on their body, and his arms around their waist...was his mother. You were really short. Or was he really tall ?

But no matter his height, he always was able to calm you down and with a deep breath, you regain your countenance and look down at him.

-What are we going to do my Broosh ?

And oh it was so odd, to hear his own voice coming out of his own mouth, and yet, knowing it was you...He was starting to have a headache.

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

The only solution you guys had right now, was to go home.

The day ahead of the both of you was too important to linger in the Watchtower. To escape it by staying up there.

When Flash and Wonder Woman came to take your place to watch over the Worlds, you tried so hard to act as if nothing happened, knowing that if anyone else in the league knew what happened, they’d never let it go, and it would be a great source of jokes and such for them.

But Diana couldn’t help but notice that Bruce was walking in a...strangely effeminate way today. And that he smiled at her widely, while usually it was his wife who would...but then, when she looked upon you, you just stared and nodded sternly. Did she do something to offend you ?

And Flash, as he was checking you out (partly cause he thought you were very hot, and partly because annoying the bat was one of his favorite past time) couldn’t help but notice that your husband didn’t get any reaction to it. No glare, no angry look or slap on the back of Barry’s head...That was weird. And you ? You didn’t even smile or anything, you just...glared at him ! What the Hell ?

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

The zeta tube brought you back to the Batcave, and you were both greeted by the entire family. Good, it meant they could give you insights about what to do next !

It was 7:30 am, and the first meeting Bruce had to attend was in about two hours. There was time to...stop freaking out, right ?

You stumbled a bit out of the zeta tube, not really use to having such long limbs ! And went towards your sons.

You saw, out of the corner of your eyes, Bruce getting out of the tube too, and almost falling...not used to have such short legs, he thought the floor was way closer than it really was.

You didn’t even think about it when you almost run towards your boys and hug them. You first took Dick in your arms. You heard him gasp but he hugged you back.

Jason pushed you away, a weird look on his face (the only times he would hug his father was in very desperate times...like one of them was close to death or...something...they just weren’t huggers much alright ? The only person Jason hugged gladly was you). You didn’t even register it, as you kissed his temple, and his eyes went wide with shock.

Tim let go of his cup of coffees as your huge frame smashed against him, and kinda froze. What was happening ? Why was his dad hugging him ? Like that ? Out of the blue ? He would usually only hug him when he was sick, or if he felt worthless or...just not like that !

Damian hissed, as you took him in your arms. Genuinely hissed, and said :

-Oh father, you’re crushing me !

...Father ? Oh but right. You needed to stop forgetting the fact that you were in your husband’s body right now !!

And here you were, looking at them by bending your neck down (except for Jason who was as tall as you), feeling weird because you never looked at them from that height. They were all looking at you, surprise in their eyes.

Well, they did just think their father was hugging them just like that, which never really happened (again, he only hugged them when they needed it...while you hugged them whenever you needed it, which was often).

Jason had his hand on his temple, where you kissed him, and was looking at you as if you just had lost your mind. Only his mom kissed him there !

It’s only when Bruce arrived, and he just kinda nodded at them awkwardly, that they knew something was up. What, their dad was hugging them and their mom was just kinda nodding at them ?

It’s as if you guys switched body or something, and...

OH MY GOD !

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

Your sons laughed for a bout thirty minutes. Straight.

Whenever they seemed to calm down, they would look at their father, at how he stood on one feet just like their mother would usually. Then they would look at their mother, feet firmly planted in the floor, like their father would usually and...they would laugh again.

There was just something extremely funny in the fact that their parents exchanged bodies. Especially in the way they’d poise themselves and...

Thirty minutes. Straight.

By the time they finally calmed down, Alfred was in the bat cave with breakfast and...he instantly realized something was wrong.

It was all in the way you both stood. He guessed what had happened. Oh dear lord.

Your retelling of the story didn’t really surprise him.

Your sons were starting to laugh again when you got annoyed and told them to go get ready for school and leave them to handle things ! With a “yes da...mom !” they left the bat cave, laughing hysterically.

Alfred just rolled his eyes at the two of you, giving you a disappointed look. But he did not say anything else. What were there to say ? You both knew you messed up.

And so, always so pragmatic, he just started to tell you guys today’s schedule, underlining the fact that, since none of you knew where Zatanna was...you’d have to deal with it. The sass in those last words was too strong, even for you.

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

-And remember, we don’t actually need that deal with their corporation, they need us more than we do, and they know it. What they don’t know, is that Batman needs an eye on their finances and I’ll be able to access them only if we strike such a deal because it seems even Tim is unable to hack their system, so I actually need that deal, but they don’t know, they think we don’t, and that they need us more than we do, and therefor they’ll try to overcompensate by being extremely high and mighty, and making themselves...

Bruce’s words flew over your head, as you were trying not to freak out again.

You were often helping out at Wayne Inc, hell, you worked there every day but...not with those slimy possible “business partner” Bruce met every day.

No. You were usually down in the lab with Lucius, thinking of new gadgets for the Bat or just about things that could help the city. Or you were taking care of meeting employees that had requests about things, sometimes you even just sat at Bruce’s desk doing his paperwork, or writing your next book or...anything really, even taking care of stock markets, but meeting those guys, those vultures who always wanted to be associated with the great Bruce Wayne.

Even though your husband was telling you that deal wasn’t really important for the company, that you just needed it for the Bat and therefor could give them whatever they demanded...you were on the verge of passing out.

-Bruce, what if I blow it all up ?

He smiles gently at you (and it’s really weird, seeing this expression on your face, it seems like you’re just speaking to your conscience and...oh this all situation was giving you a headache). With your voice, he says :

-My love, you won’t. And worst case scenario, you somehow do and then I’ll try to strike another deal, or Tim will just have to try harder on hacking their system or...We’ll figure something out. We always do.

-But what if I make a huge fool of myself or something...

-Those people already think I’m kind of a fool you know. It’s part of the game.

-But...

-(Y/N), it’ll be fine. Promise. I should be the worried one...I don’t know what I’ll tell your reader if they ask me something about your next books ! I don’t know what I’ll write if they ask me to sign their books !!!

You smile at your husband fondly and...it’s...kind of unpractical, to reach for his small frame in the car...how the hell does he do it, to always be able to touch you ? He was so tall and massive, how could he also be so quick on his feet and so flexible ?!

You try to reach for his hand and instead touch his (or your ?) thigh awkwardly. You try to plant a kiss on his cheek and instead bump your nose on his skull and kinda kiss his hair and...Ugh.

He can’t help but chuckle a bit, and though it’s very odd for him to extend his body up towards “you”, he’s the one that plants a kiss on your cheek, trying to ignore the fact that he just basically kissed himself.

-Everything will be just fine.

You both say, as to reassure the other one.

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

Everything was not just fine.

There you were, in the meeting room at Wayne Inc bureaus, at the end of the table, nervously pulling on your tie as you waited for Bruce’s future business partner to come in.

You thank Caroline, Bruce’s secretary (you got very jealous once, when you saw her rearrange Bruce’s tie...until he told you that she was probably more interested in you than she was in him, being a lesbian...oh. Oh, cool, and actually flattering, as she did had a small crush on you), as she gives you a cup of coffee.

You down it in two seconds, ignoring the burn in “your” mouth, and she looks at you weirdly, probably not used to see her boss unnerved like so.

Especially not for such a small fish as Higgins’ company, the guys that were coming in today...

And here they were. Coming in as if they owned the place.

Your husband was right. They knew they needed Wayne Inc more than you really did, but instead of acting like so, instead of trying to win Bruce...they were being despicable assholes.

Of course, it didn’t quite seem like so, but to you, who saw tons of those guys lurking around your husband...it was obvious.

Their fake compliments, and the light in their eyes...They despised Bruce. They were jealous of him. After all, he had it all, and more than them. And now, he was basically buying them.

It infuriated you, how you could visibly see they thought Bruce was an idiot, just a rich kid who didn’t really know what he was doing...or else, why would he give them such a great deal while they needed him more than them ?

You couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn't just look at those men taking advantage of the man you love, you couldn’t just look at them thinking those horrible thing about your Bruce, especially since you knew they were oh so wrong. You just couldn’t bear their toxicity.

So far, you let them drive the car, you let them change the deal to their advantage, knowing Bruce wanted their finances for his nightly activities but..You just couldn’t anymore.

The words kind of poured out of your mouth by themselves. As the owner of Higgins’ company, Michael Higgins, was going on yet another rant about how poor people in Gotham were the source of every problems in this town (which stroke a nerve in you, as you used to be one of those “poor people”, growing up in the Narrow, poorest and most dangerous neighborhood in GC), you cut him off and says :

-Alright Mike, let’s cut the chase. I’ve had enough of your little games, let’s talk business.

You can see “Mike” and his sons face suddenly loosing their fake smiles. Only for a few seconds though. Instantly, it was back on their face. Eh, maybe that Wayne kid had more guts than they thought ?

You knew that sometimes, Bruce, tired of everything, would just agree with any terms his business partner would give him, as long as it didn’t hurt his company. It was just easier you know, you understood him. Sometimes he would give really good deals to small family owned company because he liked them, or because he thought they deserved it...but the Higgins weren’t such people.

And you couldn’t stand them thinking he was weak and stupid. So you say :

-I was thinking about our little deal and realized...It won’t do. I went through the numbers again. I looked at all the graphs and...things.

You saw Bruce argue enough to perfectly imitate his serious tone, but you were no business expert. You hoped you sounded sure of your words enough, and mentally face palmed you for that “graphs and...things”.

-I realized that truly, you guys need us more than we do you. Your numbers are going down. In a year, you’ll beg for us to buy your shares. While if we associate with you now, we’ll be able to get you back on track and win more than ever. So...I don’t think I’ll be as generous as I said I would.

“Mike” Higgins narrows his eyes at you and says, his voice dry :

-I don’t understand Bruce. We had a deal. We...

-I’m going to be honest with you Mike. I don’t like your tone. I don’t like the way you look at me, as if I was just another dumb kid. As if I was just an idiot who’d give you profit.

-I assure you I don...

-I don’t like how you’re trying to take advantage of my generosity. How you through other inexistant cost in the bag to make me pay more. It’s not like that amount of money would impact my finances much...but I don’t like to be use, and especially not by a shark like you.

You don’t even know where it comes from...But it’s there. You play the Higgins like damn fiddles. You make them sign what you want them to sign. A way better deal for Wayne Inc that what was originally planned.

Mike Higgins eyes change when he looks back at you. It’s not full of irony and supposedly superiority. Oh no. It’s...humbler. Good.

Maybe you should trample a little more in the “business” side of the work ? ...Eh. No. This was all too exhausting, this arguing and fake smiles and...yes. No. Bruce was way better at that than you. Besides, you weren’t too sure that using your natural sass and sarcasm was such a good idea.

There was humbleness in Higgins’ eyes, but also a sort of...something else. Something dangerous. God you hoped you didn’t blow things up. Uh.

...You wondered, as you were signing papers to struck the deal, how he was doing.

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

How did you do it ?! He couldn’t understand.

Those stilettos were...impossible to walk with ! And this dress, so uncomfortable and he felt so naked and he kept trying to put it back in place and oh it was just so awful.

He caught a glimpse of “himself” in a mirror and yes, sure, you looked damn hot (it kinda turned him on...in the oddest way possible right now), but this was all so difficult ! And yet you’d always walk gracefully around, in this ridiculous attire (though it looked amazing on you, of course).

He cursed three hundred times during that short walk from the car to the book shop where you were suppose to sign your books today. He glared a bit at Alfred, who couldn’t help but laugh kinda discreetly, as he saw his “Master Bruce” try to walk.

He sat down and as the first person came to him and told him how he loved your book...he remembered he had to smile.

It was so exhausting, to be you ! As Bruce Wayne, he just had to smile and wave and say some charming/witty thing to cameras. As you he had to...act smart.

He was a smart man of course, but would always act lightheartedly in public. Nonchalantly. While you ? You had a reputation to be sassy and sarcastic and smart and talented...he was just a rich philanthropist who’d crack a few stupid jokes to make other rich dudes laugh ! He wasn’t the amazing writer you were !

Fortunately, he was (secretly) a massive fanboy of your books and knew everything by heart, so answering people’s questions was easier than he thought. He would even tease a little bit by hinting at a few things that would happen in future books (you’d often write in bed, and he would read above your shoulder when you were too focus to notice...so he knew a few spoilers).

But it was stil...exhausting.

This wasn’t the worst though.

Around 3 pm, the signing was done and he thought he did an alright job being you, though he’s pretty sure a few times people were a bit weirded out by how he sat or things like that, as it was very unlike you...Oh well.

He went with his...eeerh, your publisher to grab a cup of coffee, and that’s when he ran into multiple dickheads.

Being yours, he knew you were very attractive, and that this...”aura” was floating around you. You weren’t the most beautiful woman on earth (though he thought you were, by far), but no matter what, you always turned head when you walked because there was just something highly charming about you.

It always attracted the worst assholes ever.

But Bruce never realized how many times a day you actually got catcalled.

So many inappropriate comments were thrown at you, so many men (and women) looked at you as if you were a piece of meat...it made Bruce angrier than ever.

He almost punched a man twice your size that called you “sugar”, but then realized it was probably unwise...besides, goddamn paparazzis were following him ! And damn escaping on stilettos was difficult...

He had to remind himself, later in the day, to give you the respect you deserved. To tell you how beautiful you were in a way that wasn’t so...disgusting.

He glared at more people that day, than he ever did in his life (which says a lot)...and somehow, his glare weren’t really working like when he was glaring as Bruce Wayne ! And he didn’t know how to do your famous “Batmom Glare”...

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

You were waiting outside of Wayne Inc bureaus, arms crossed, jumping from one foot to the other, unaware of the fact that this was a strange behavior for the famous Bruce Wayne.

People kept looking at you weird, and it’s only way later, that you realized he must have looked ridiculous, doing the thing you would usually do with your own body...

And when Bruce arrived, walking like a soldier on high heels, you realized that...Yeah, anyone who would know and look at you long enough would guess quickly that something was up.

He stopped in front of you and, even though you spend the entire day pretending to be each other, it was still kind of awkward to reach for the other one. You were still bothered by his gigantic frame, and he didn’t know how to...hug or...kiss you...

You ended up bringing him flush against your body way too brutally (which made you appreciate his usual tenderness...he was so damn strong and yet so gentle with you !), which you were sure would leave bruises on your body, and he kinda...fell into your arms, helpless.

It was very weird for him, to be tossed around that easily.

You apologized profusely, and his voice sounded weird to your ears...you gave it inflections it usually didn’t have.

As you were walking toward the car, you realized paparazzis were there and...it would have been weird if you guys didn’t walk side by side somehow. The last thing you wanted was for them to publish an article about how your marriage wasn’t going well and publish pictures of you walking not hand in hand or something...Bruce always held you against him, when you walked in the street...

But you just couldn’t seem to...be able to do that. Logistics were a bit tough. You kept putting “your” arm awkwardly across his shoulder, and he just kinda leaned into you tripping over in his shoes.

Finally, you just settled down for just holding hands, hoping no one noticed your weird...Dance. But people didn’t really pay attention.

Finally in the car, you sigh and close your eyes. What an exhausting day.

He sighs too, and you can feel his eyes (yours) on you. You open one eye and look at him, still weirded out by the fact that it’s “you” you see.

You open your arms and...finally something that is natural. Doesn’t matter wether your big or small, it’s still working. And sure it’s not as great as usual, not feeling him all around you but...still.

He lays his head on your chest and you hold him against you, your fingers running through his unusually long hair.

You hear him sigh in content and he says :

-I feel weirdly safe right now.

You laugh out loud and nod. Yup. In Bruce Wayne’s arms, it’s impossible to feel unsafe haha.

But you wish you were in your body, and he was laying on you with his. You wish he coould engulf you under him, you wish you could feel his weight...and he wish he could feel you wrap around him, flushed against him. Though it was rather nice to be the small one for once...

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

Your sons were insufferable. They kept taking pictures and laughing about everything you did...Oh the leverage they had, with the pictures of their father crossed legged and doing his nails and such...

They were becoming so damn awful that you decided to do the only thing you knew for sure was going to drive them away...kiss Bruce.

Or...Kiss yourself ?

It was a bit weird. But not that bad really.

You almost broke your own nose by bending down to yourself, or to Bruce (oh the headache wouldn’t go away !), and almost got him off the stool he was sitting on by being a bit too brusque.

But when you finally reached his lips, it’s as if you guys never changed bodies. And sure it was strange to feel him so small, and to feel long hair, and...well it was still a bit odd...but you were still kissing the love of your life.

You just made sure to not open your eyes. It would have been too weird.

Your sons ran out faster than they ever did, followed by Alfred who just rolled his eyes some more. Even when you switched bodies, you couldn’t keep off of each other for an entire day.

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

Eaten from the inside by remorse, Zatanna arrived in the bat cave via the zeta tube there around 8 pm.

She hoped to God nothing bad happened. That you were still alive.

She didn’t really know what to expect, and probably the worst scenarios running through her mind didn’t happen but...She couldn’t help it.

She hated being angry and taking her anger out on others (though you kinda deserved it really). Besides, she remembered that you had an important book signing that day, and he...oh God what if she ruined your lives with that silly and petty prank ?!

She arrived in the bat cave, making your sons jump, asking where you guys were in a frenzy...Your boys and Alfred told her you were in your bedroom, and had no time to elaborate or anything before Zatanna rushed out.

She knew the manor. She was a good family friend...oh my God no. She was a terrible family friend. As she ran up the stairs toward the master bedroom, she just knew she ruined your life.

It was just 8pm, and you guys were already asleep ? What happened ? Terrible things for sure.

Especially since usually at that time, Bruce would get ready to go out as Batman, and you’d take your place behind the bat computer !

God. She ruined your lives. Just because of a silly argument. She was a terrible person...

She almost destroyed the door to you bedroom, opening it way too violently and...

Oh. Of course, she couldn’t know it was Bruce’s night off. And yours too.

But knowing the two of you, she should have guessed that you would make the best out of this situation...After all, both of you were too smart for your own good !

She closed the door hurriedly, her cheeks red and her eyes wide.

You didn’t even notice her.

Your sons arrive, running, and take her away quickly. They couldn’t stay there any longer, hearing those...awful sounds...coming out...of your bedroom...

Tomorrow.

Zatanna would fix the situation tomorrow.

For now, she’d let you...enjoy that change she made, she would try to forget what she just saw, and tomorrow...Tomorrow she would switch your souls back in your own bodies.

Tomorrow. When you’ll be done...exploring the possibilities of having, quite literally, each others’ bodies.

_________________________________________

Yeah so...Here we go. I wrote this in half an hour, while waiting for tires to be changed on my car, and I was angry at the time, and very tired. So sorry for any typos or...if it’s very meh/bad (the end is shit). Hope you liked it anyway. Thanks for reading. Really. And blahblahblah.

1K notes · View notes

ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

[SF] The Midnight Planet

A long sigh escaped my mouth as I read the data on the regional climate panel. I fixated my gaze on one particular piece of data first; the temperature. In an obnoxiously bright blue, the panel read -267° C. It was another freezing, depressing day on an unimportant planet who's only accolades to be named were it was unusually cold and dark, giving it the name 'the Midnight Planet.' Otherwise, this god-forsaken chunk of ice was of little note.

I now started skimming over the other data on the panel, fueled by the last shred of optimism I had in my heart. After all, what if there was another lightning storm happening later tonight? Perhaps there was some other poor soul orbiting my isolated domain for some inexplicable reason! Severe sediment-storm, less than 1 meter of visibility .

Magnificent. That was positively wonderful. Now, not only was I scheduled to check the exterior integrity of my research station today, but I'd also have the scrape the sediment from the hull and out of the control panels tomorrow! This day could not possibly get any better! Maybe I'd be posted to an even more hellish planet! I sat down on the cold, hard floor of my living space and placed my head in my hands, my heart beginning to pump harder and harder. I was briefly distracted when my com-system made the distinctive signal telling me I had a new message.

The prospect of what this message could have been hurt to think about. It was most likely just that damned weather system telling me about the storm again. I mean, I didn't really get any messages from actual human beings considering I manned the farthest 'colony' from any signal relay station. I received my last message two years ago from a pen pal I began talking to a long time ago. We never really discussed who we were or our business in the boonies of space, but the interaction was appreciated.

I now had an unexpected burst of motivation. Perhaps the message was from him and I could invite him for shitty replicated coffee and beef in around five years or some wild thing like that. I got up from what I deemed the position of defeat and slowly made my way to the interface. As it would turn out, it was him. This horrible day may yet have been a great one. I opened the message and began reading about his latest exploits. It was for the most part mundane when looked at objectively; he finally managed to sell his maintenance mech and he bought a new hazard suit with the spare cash. His cat got sick around one and a half years ago and he found out it was because she ate a mouse.

But for me, this was different! This was new material that I had never laid eyes on! I was ecstatic about his new hazard suit and deeply touched by his cat's illness. My day had been made by a bland message from a man I didn't even know. I prepared to turn off the terminal when I got another message sent a mere two days after the first one was. This one was also from my pal.

I began to read this one as well. The contents were deeply distressing to say the least. This selfish bastard of a man was parting ways with me. He was moving half way across the galaxy to the planet of KAD-181481, a supposed paradise, where the summers were warm and the natives were particularly attractive and extremely promiscuous. My fist met the screen, to which it responded by briefly shuttering. My fist met it again, this time far harder. It turned off, for which I cursed it and swore at it for its cowardice.

My heart was torn in two. I'd never met this man before in my life and I'd only ever received 10 messages from him over my two Earth decades in this metal coffin of a research complex, but it broke me. My face turned a bright hue of red as tears began to stream down my cheeks and onto the floor. I assumed the position of defeat once again, this time deciding that I wouldn't move for anything. I just sat there and wept, half angered by the world around me, half empty, completely self-absorbed in my sorrows.

***

The lights were now out in my living area. I had been sitting still for so long that the basic AI in my room had thought I left. My face was cold and damp from the tears, and snot and condensation from my breath. This was undoubtedly the lowest moment of my entire pitiful life. At this point, I wasn't really thinking about anything, I was just empty; a husk, a shell, whatever you'd like to call me. I was just plain and simple, empty and nothing could change that. So I thought at least.

The door to the outside then slid open, grinding with every inch it moved. The first thought that entered my mind was that my door was now broken. Because of this, I refused to look at it or try to close it to prevent the piercing wind and sediment from destroying everything in my home. I just cursed at it, stating it was made by a pathetic moron with no skills in his trade. The door then responded: "By the gods, what the hell are you doing Mackenzie?"

This happened to get my attention. I glanced over, half shielding my face in a failed attempt to hide the fact that I'd been having a mental breakdown. What stood before me was a tall man wearing shining, bright grey metal armour, adorned with blue lights. I knew this man before I even looked at his helmet or trademark rifle. It was a dear old friend who I used to do less-than-legal business with.

I stood up, clearly shaking from being in such a contorted position for so long. "Dal?" My voice cracked as I said his name. "Mackenzie?" he replied, emulating the crack, to which I replied enthusiastically. "Dal!" We exchanged greetings as I desperately tried to remember what you do when you have guests. I invited him to sit down for a drink, which he graciously accepted.

We began casually chatting, with me telling him exactly how my day went and how I was so glad he was there. For the first time in a good two decades, I was smiling ear to ear, absolutely elated to have something so unexpected happen. Our talks went on for a good while with me telling him about how horrible life was here with the cold, lack of light, crushing loneliness and such. After this we reminisced about the good old days when we were wild, young adults, working against the establishment, selling rifles to the southern warlords and to the Sangraki government who they were waging war against at the time. "Both sides of the fence" was our unofficial motto after all.

"So why are you actually here, Dal? Why would anyone, especially a prestigious man such as yourself, want to be here? And how did I not pick up your ship on the sensors this morning?"

"I've expanded my horizons and I've become a hired gun. I never disbanded the organization when you got arrested so I figured why not keep 'er going? As for my ship, I've been cloaked for a solid week straight monitoring the system's activity, especially on your planet."

"Who's the target? I'm sure that poor unfortunate soul is as good as dead, eh?"

"Well he's another ex-gunrunner turned scientist who I believe is taking refuge in this system. Some Tranarian trader wanted me to off him. He's apparently making a dash for some planet called KAD-181492."

That son of a bitch, Dal. I knew exactly who his target was. It was me. He hadn't even tried to hide it. If I knew him well enough, he even made it as obvious as possible just for kicks. I visibly shivered, both disturbed and enraged by the fact that a good friend was about to kill me for financial gain.

"What's the problem there, Mack? You alright?"

"I'm fine, I've just... I've got some sickness that I brought with me from my last vacation."

That was an absolutely horrible excuse. He knew I couldn't leave the station unmanned. The time for action would have to be now or I would end up dead. I excused myself from the table to "use the bathroom." In reality, I was going to get my old hunting rifle from my room. It was him or me.

I retrieved the weapon from my closet and began to make my way back to the living area. I readied my rifle and leaned around the corner, aiming at the table, whole-heartedly expecting the man to be sitting there, waiting patiently. Instead, he was nowhere to be seen. I loudly began cursing to myself. I turned around to try to take refuge in my room. I was met by a dagger directly in my stomach.

He got me. He fucking stabbed me and he had the audacity to walk away without saying a word. I stood there, with the air knocked from my lungs and a burning sensation becoming increasingly present in my midriff. I slowly sat down once again, trying desperately to get any air into my lungs and failing. I heard the door to the outside open and shut once again.

My body was becoming increasingly cold as I lost more and more blood. I was colder than I'd ever felt. Even when my cold hazard suit was malfunctioning and ran the AC instead of heating when I had 24 hours of repairs to do in a lightning storm, I wasn't as cold as I was now. My fingertips were numb and appeared white and the distinct taste of iron was filling my mouth. This was the end. I never wanted to die here. It truly was a shame. What I hated the most was the fact that my final thought was about the midnight planet owning me forever, as it did when I was alive. It truly was a shame.

submitted by /u/Moistureeee [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/310EiRn

#Blogger #Story

0 notes