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#remys dream journal
furyohin4urr20 · 10 months
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This year, I've made it a goal to keep up a "dream journal" in which I write random dreams that I vividly had recently and the date I had them.
Here are some of my honorable mentions:
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catboygirlboss · 1 year
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guys… i had a really nice dream about him and it’s keeping me in the front 😭😭😭
he rolled into town to film something and he needed a place to crash, and for some reason chose our house? at first we didn’t get to see him much but then we got to hang out more and we showed each other tiktoks and we had such a good time and fuck it felt so much like my pre alter life im gonna cry
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musicfordinner · 2 years
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HUGE!!!! Two of the best women in the game, doing the damn thing. Here for it.
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mzv11 · 6 months
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Black Magic 3 (18+)
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Characters: Remi Laurent x Roman Reigns (I use his real name)
Warning: drinking, language, blood drinking, smut
Word Count: 2.5K
A/N: Joe’s inner thoughts are in bold. Remi’s are in red bold.
Get Caught Up: Part 1 | Part 2
Remi crawled out of bed and walked into the bathroom. She ran her teeth across her fangs, her eyes pulsating brightly. She splashed cold water on her face in an attempt to bring herself down from the orgasmic high. “That was fuckin’ intense!” she mumbled, grabbing her phone from the nightstand. She typed in a few notes about what she was experiencing to maybe find some answers in one of her many books, maybe even start a journal of her own. “Come to bed.” Joe grumbled. Remi crawled into bed. “Remi Laurent, you put a spell on me. What are you?” He smiled. “Joe, I’m just a black girl from New Orleans.” She laughed. “No. I mean like a mermaid or vampire? Werewolf? A witch? Angel? Demon? All I know is you fucked me like some sort of deity and that’s what my life’s been missing!” He mumbled as he fell back to sleep. 
This was the first time in over a year that Joe was able to sleep with no past lives haunting his dreams. Just peaceful sleep. When Joe woke up in the morning, he was in bed alone. A few minutes passed when the door eased open and Remi strolled in, wrapped in a red silk robe. “Good morning handsome. Want some coffee? I can make you some beignets if you’re hungry.” She smiled, handing him the perfect cup of dark roast coffee. “How do you know what my perfect cup of coffee tastes like?” he growled, after taking a sip. He had been dreaming of a dark roast with 3 sugars and one creamer. “I read your mind.” She winked. “No…you mumble a little bit in your sleep. When I do drink coffee, it’s only the finest of local dark roasts, so I made a pot.” She laughed, still unsure about when would be a good time to talk about…her condition. “What does an uber rich person do on a typical Tuesday?” He laughed. “I rest. Tuesday is recovery day, so yoga, massage and a soak in the tub. Wednesday and Thursday are for other business stuff. Fridays through Mondays are heavy tour days. What’s Joe Anoa’i do on his first Tuesday as a former WWE superstar?” She smiled widely, sprawling out on the bed. “My cousins want to go to brunch so I should probably head to the hotel and get changed. After this coffee and maybe something just as sweet as a beignet.” Joe winked. 
“Brunch with the boys sounds fun. I hope you enjoy yourself.” She moaned softly as she stretched. “Why does it always feel like you’re asking me to leave?” He joked. “Sorry. I’m not.” Remi smiled over at him. “Good. My feelings were going to be hurt. Remi, about last night…I” “Oh you said some things darlin! Things that now that you are in your right mind you’d like to recant?” She laughed. “Oh…nah. I wanted to ask if we could do it again tonight.” He growled, pulling the belt on her robe until it fell open, she was still naked under it. “Of course we can. But consider this a warning…I’m unlike any woman you’ve ever been with.” She laughed, feeling his warm lips on her cool skin. “You’re so cold sweetheart. Here, let me warm you up.” he smiled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “Low iron.” she laughed, enjoying his warmth. “You want me to grab some steaks and I’ll cook for you? I can’t have my girl with low iron.” he laughed, enjoying the feel of her naked skin against him. “Your girl? We just met 2 days ago.” Remi laughed. “I know but I just want to be yours. I’m fixated on it. I’m obsessed with you and I don’t understand it!” he growled, his hands roaming her naked skin. “I will make you late for brunch with your cousins!” Remi laughed, feeling his hardened length digging into her thigh as he pulled her on top of him. “I think we’ll be good on time. Or they can just wait!” Joe laughed, biting Remi’s shoulder. “I’m the one who does the biting.” Remi laughed to herself. “Do you like when I bite you Remi?” He laughed, sinking his teeth into her once more. A growl rumbled in her throat.
“I don’t mind it. However, I’m just usually the one doing the biting.” She laughed. “Are you a gentle biter? Or a hard biter?” Joe laughed. “Bad things happen when I bite…so I don’t.” She laughed. He moaned softly, feeling her essence dripping onto his skin. “This feels like a trap.” Joe laughed, his hands pushing the red silk down her shoulders. “It’s a trap…but don’t run, otherwise you’ll miss all the fun.” Remi growled, rolling until he was on top of her. “Now this…I like this.” Joe laughed, kissing his way down her body. He smothered her inner thighs with seductive kisses, her eyes watching him. His tongue danced across her glistening folds. A loud, low moan escaped her. “I have a very good reason for being late for brunch. I needed something sweet to eat with my coffee.” Joe laughed, his tongue lapping at her clit. “Ohhh shit.” Remi moaned as he pulled her clit between his lips. Her hands grabbed his long ponytail, trying to pull him away. Her fangs popped out the second his tongue touched her clit. He stopped only to plant a hungry bite on her thigh, her body arching off the bed. “St-st-stop! I’m gonna…..fuuccckkk!” Remi moaned as her orgasm washed over her. His licks were slow and torturous. Her hands grabbed at the silk sheets, she couldn’t control her powers as she felt her body rising off the bed.
His fingers slid against her walls, she whimpered as another orgasm bubbled up in her. “Let it go baby. Let me hear those pretty moans.” Joe smiled as her walls began to clench around his fingers. Their eyes met as he ran his thick tongue across her throbbing clit. “Mmmm!” He moaned as his eyes watched hers. She was so drunk off pleasure that she didn’t even try to conceal her fangs. Remi’s moans filled the room as she came again. His fingertips tapped against her g-spot, his lips kissed their way up her bronzed skin. Remi felt that all-too-familiar knot twisting in her stomach. She grabbed his wrist but didn’t stop him. She could see him watching her, learning her in their reflection in the ceiling mirror. His lips kissed along her collarbone. He pulled his fingers from her warmth, replacing them with his thick length. He wrapped his arm around her thigh and pulled it around his waist, driving himself deeper into her. The roulette wheel of his past lives spun rapidly as their bodies collided on the bed, his head nestled into her neck. “God!” he groaned into her neck. She pulled at his ponytail until his hair fell wildly across his face. Remi could hear his thoughts jumble as he fought off his orgasm. A soft moan rolled from his lips as he felt her hand brushing his hair back from his face. “I love you.” he thought, his orgasm exploding out of him and into her. He wrapped her other leg around his waist, slamming into her g-spot and triggering her orgasm. He kissed a path from her shoulder to her neck as she shook under him. “Look what we have here. What pretty fangs you have Remi!” He growled as her blue eyes met his. 
“Shit. Joe, I can explain!” Remi muttered, her climax had her floating in another realm. “No need for that. I’ve been having the best sex of my life with a vampire who has me feeling like I’ve lived a few lives before. Am I missing anything?” he laughed, kissing her bottom lip. He pulled from her warmth and laid next to her. “No, sounds like you’ve got me all figured out. But you….you don’t know what you are and I do.” Remi teased. “You do? How?” he laughed, playfully grabbing her waist. Remi nodded, feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “How old are you?!” He blurted out, suddenly he wanted to know everything. “I think I was born in 1720. I was turned when I was an old lady.” she laughed. “An old lady? You look 32 at the oldest.” He smiled, committing her facial features to memory. “When the life expectancy for a slave is 55….30 is old. I was literally a grandmother when I was turned.” She sighed, wrapping the sheet over them. “How the fuck are you outside in the daytime?!” He laughed loudly. “Magic. I’m one of one...like Beyonce.” Remi laughed. “Ok Alien Superstar. That’s not answering my question. If you turn me…can I walk in the sun too?” he rolled his eyes. “What part of one-of-one did you not understand? I can’t pass it on. But we” “Are you gonna eat me?” he interrupted. “If I ate you, I wouldn’t get to look at this handsome ass face of yours!” Remi smiled, kissing his lips as her fangs retreated back into her. “If I wanted to eat you, I would’ve done it Sunday night when you thought you were going to outdrink me!” she laughed.
“I bet you vant to suck my bloods!” he laughed, sounding like the Count from Sesame Street. “While you do smell absolutely divine, I don’t plan on it.” She sighed, feeling his lips pressed against her neck. “What if I want you to?” he moaned softly. “Then maybe I will…one day.” Remi laughed, feeling his teeth nip along her skin. “Is Victor your…lover?” he grumbled, thinking that this man was always around her. “Eww No! I am his maker. He’s my right hand man, my best friend.” Remi smiled, remembering how long her and Vic had been a duo. “Have you used your powers on me? I feel like my soul has been seduced. Vampires can do that right?” He laughed, sitting up to pull his hair back into a ponytail. “We can but I haven’t. I carried you to your room and I can hear the occasional thought of yours.” Remi laughed, remembering the big back porch thought he had when she opened the door. “I’ve seen you eat food! Do you drink blood?” He felt like a kid asking all these questions but he had spent the day with a New Orleans vampire. “I do, and I can eat human food but it makes me weaker. Please don’t tell anyone. I’d hate to have to kill you and everyone you know.” Remi laughed, sliding her robe back on.
“So what really happened Sunday night?” Joe asked, pulling his boxers back on and grabbing his coffee off the nightstand, it was cold. “Your cute, drunk self wandering in the path of some rogue vamps that didn’t follow protocol. They were gonna eat you and if any vampire’s gonna eat you…it’s gonna be me!” Remi growled, kissing his neck. “What’s so special about me?” Joe growled, pinning Remi to the mirrored wall. “You’ve given yourself to me, so everything baby.” Remi’s New Orleans accent flowing through her lips. “I gotta grab an Uber.” He sighed, opening the app on his phone. “Bernie’s waiting for you downstairs. But he’s not going to wait while you’re up here trying to bite a vampire.” Remi laughed as she pulled him downstairs behind her. “What time should I come over? After sunset?” He teased. “Come back whenever you want. I’m going to take a nap after my massage. You are more than welcome to join me. Have fun with your cousins. Now I’m asking you to leave.” Remi laughed. “Got it. Bye Remi. Should I bow? I feel like I should bow.” Joe laughed. “Well, I am the Queen of the South. And…you’d look good on your knees before me.” Remi laughed. “Yes my queen.” Joe growled, kissing her deeply before closing the door behind him.
Remi started running herself a bath when her phone pinged, it was Joe.
Joe: Do you know where I am and what I’m doing at all times now? Like True Blood?
Remi: It only works that way if I’ve fed from you.
Joe: Am I your Sookie? Are you my Bill Compton?
Remi: You never struck me as a True Blood guy but yes…you are Sookie.
Joe: Long story, I’ll explain later over dinner.
It worked like that for normal humans, but Joe was not a normal human. She hadn’t sucked his blood but she had sucked his dick and Remi could damn near hear him in her head. As Remi sank down into the warm bath, she pulled out her phone and snapped the perfect picture of a vampire in the bathtub. Her head peeked out above the bubbles, eyes bright blue, fangs out. She wasn’t going to send it to Joe, but she felt playful so she hit send. She turned on ‘Paint the Town Red’ by Doja Cat and slid beneath the bubbles for a bit.
“You look like you had a fun night Uce.” Joe’s cousin Jey laughed as they were seated at a table out on the patio overlooking the river. “Yeah, how was your date? She let you hit it?” his other cousin Jimmy asked, sitting down on the other side of the table. “It was fun. She’s…rich. Lives in the Garden District.” Joe smiled, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. “How rich are we talkin? Like trust fund rich? Or influencer rich?” Solo questioned. Jey noticed Joe looking down at his phone at a message from Remi but he didn’t open it. “Gone and open that up, Uce. Don’t let us stop you from seeing nudes this early…I’m tryna sneak a peek too!” They all laughed. “Nah, like we own the Superdome and the hotel rich. Old money rich. Her family tried to buy the Saints back in the 80s.” Joe mumbled. “Oooh she got money!” Jimmy laughed. Joe tapped the message open, she wasn’t showing any skin other than her shoulders but there was something sexy about knowing she was naked. There was something about her smile that called out to him. “Yeah...gone and Airdrop that into the group chat my boy. That’s a work of art right there!” Jey laughed, looking over Joe’s shoulder. The waiter came to take their drink orders and tell them about the brunch specials. 
“Joe.” Remi’s voice called out to him, it was soothing against his ear. Joe looked around, she wasn’t there. “You alright Uce? You look like you seen a ghost!” Jimmy laughed. “Yeah, thought I heard someone calling me.” Joe shrugged. “Damn, it must’ve been good if you hearing shit!” Solo laughed. “Remi?” he thought. 
“Oh shit!” Remi gasped as she sat underneath her favorite willow tree, 3 miles away.  
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saltsicklover · 7 months
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Prologue
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Here is the Prologue! I don't actually anticipate this fic going over that well, but damn I like were this is going so here it is anyway! Feel free to let me know what you think! Reminder, Florence, Montana is made up town! There is use of (Y/N) in this fic, but it's very few and far between. Enjoy!!
Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 900+
Rating: R
Warnings: Rude Bob, slight hazing if you squint.
Second Chance Romance!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.
I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.
You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.
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Y/N 'Duchenne' Hannigan has always been a wall flower- well, maybe 'wallflower' was the wrong word. Duchenne was strong, strong enough to keep up with her Uncle Remy and her brother Michael on the family ranch. She's pretty too, but pretty didn't get you far in Florence, Montana. 
She grew up with the notion that she had to work hard, that was the only way she was going to get what she wanted. It never came down to looks or personality, after all, nothing in Montana seemed to matter outside of hard work and a good handshake, except maybe a promise. Those things went together better than anything else; people made their living from that. 
"If you wanna be a big dog, you need to get off the porch," Uncle Remy's broken record words found their way out of his mouth every morning over cups of coffee, something she started drinking way too young. 
"I know, Uncle Rem," She would whisper, pushing her glasses up her nose. The large golden frames overtook the gentle features of her face. She hated them, from the way they slid down her nose to the never ending smudging she had to deal with all day. She often slipped them off of her face the moment she got to school. They found a home in her backpack with the never ending supply of stationary and her good pens. 
It was difficult to navigate so many different facets of life at once, pulling her weight of the work while going to school full time, being the only girl of the family left her to figure out many things for herself. 
The moments she had alone, she read the classics and wrote in her journal. She learned how to be a woman through the books she read, each new novel, a new woman to each her the ways of the world. Duchenne loved words. Simple as that. She wanted to live and breathe them, surround herself with nothing but scripture from the greats and those who inspired her. 
More often than not, though, she found herself day dreaming. The object of her affection being Bob Floyd. The pair had grown up in the same town, they'd always gone to school together, but separate classes kept them apart, acquaintances. That was, until freshman year of high school. She loved his kind eyes, eyes often hid behind the shaggy hair he let fall into his face. Maybe it was the cowboy hat he wore or the way his sleeves were always rolled up to his elbows. Whatever it had been, she was in deep for Bob Floyd, somewhere between a childhood crush and a Bennet and Darcy love story.
The day he started the swim team was the day everything spiraled out of control. Instead of saying hello to her in the hallway, he began walking past, his eyeline always kept just above her head. 
Robert Floyd was a kid with passion. He had a dream. WSO, the title sounded like music to his ears. The idea that he would be in charge of a pilot, thousands of miles above the ground, nothing around him but the bluest skies. That's what he wanted, more than anything. 
So, Bob started telling himself that he avoided Duchenne because he didn't need the distraction. The ranch girl who always had her head stuck in some stuffy book was going to be his downfall, and he knew it. Maybe it was the way her hair stuck out in all sorts of directions or the fact that her clothes were always well worn in and faded in just the right places. 
As time went on, he got meaner. The voices of his teammates playing over and over in his head. "We are your friends, you've got everything you need right here on this team," and so he tried to make himself believe it. After all, if he swam well he could get scholarships, and that money would bring him one step closer to the Navy. 
Who was he to question the word of his team. After all, your word held just as much weight as any handshake in Florence, that much he could guarantee. So he followed in their footsteps, stroke for stroke, narrowing his vision to only what would get him closer to achieving his dream. And, unfortunately, that didn't include her. 
But, oh, god, Bob liked her. He liked the way her name rolled of his lips and the way she was always helping out, using her off periods to volunteer with the front office staff, filing paperwork and running errands. He liked Duchenne so much that he started volunteering too. 
Then he started slipping at swim practice, and once in a meet. His brain was stuck on the image of Duchenne sitting in the back of their math class, large gold framed glasses dwarfing her beautiful face. He watched as she pushed them up with her knuckles, her focus on the test in front of her. She stuck her tongue out in concentration, and that in itself did Bob in. 
He caught himself thinking of that memory often... maybe too often. That's when his own voice took over the ones of his teammates that had been on repeat in his head for the last few months. "For the Navy," he would chant in his head like a prayer. That's all that mattered.
It mattered even more than her. Bob made his choice, leaving Duchenne to question where their friendship went wrong with every cruel word that left his tongue. 
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silcodependent · 2 years
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Sway
Silco x Fem!Reader
1.4 k word- sfw (for now)
Chapter 1
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When you had accepted Remy’s offer, you hadn’t cared about profits, or Piltover, or whatever was underneath it that Remy kept going on about. You just wanted out. The last three years in this city and at the club you danced in had left you burned out in your art and with more questions than when you started. A fresh start seemed too good to be true but it was a chance you weren’t willing to let pass you by. You packed your apartment into boxes the next morning and by that afternoon Remy had sent over men to load up your things and take them to your new home in Piltover. The change was so fast it felt like a dream and made your head spin. But Fate didn’t wait and opportunity didn't knock twice.
Piltover was nothing like you remembered it. Well, at least not the part of it you were living in. This was the Under whatever that Remy kept referring to. The bad part of town. Remy had a vision of straddling the line, of his club being the precipice, the great equalizer. A place for everyone, from the high society of Piltover to the everyday people of the mines to relax and enjoy the nightlife he had to offer. That you had to offer. Those were the terms of your agreement. You would provide the entertainment, build the atmosphere and clientele in whatever way suited you best. From background dancer 4, to headliner and part owner of a club seemed far too good to be true so you were a little relieved when you found out that it wasn’t in the best part of town. You hoped that was the only catch.
Your apartment overlooked the city from across the bridge. There wasn’t much to see until you reached the bridge and beyond. The buildings from your apartment to the bridge were either in various states of disrepair, that included the club that Remy was currently renovating, or complete ruins. Remy said there were many people who lived in the lower levels of the Undercity, and wondered what had made them abandon this part of the city where the air was clearer. Remy said it was best not to ask questions like that. You knew the answer wouldn’t be pretty.
Remy had been here for weeks, touring locations, setting things up, finalizing his purchase of several of the buildings and he certainly did seem to have a lay of the land. He said that the Undercity was going through a major transition and this was a perfect opportunity for a new enterprise. He had gotten to know whoever was now in charge of things around here, and with his ‘vision’ supported by his deep pockets managed to convince him to sell a couple of the buildings on the edge of the Undercity to be turned into a burlesque club right on the line between both ‘cities’. To be honest, you couldn’t care less. His enthusiasm was endearing and you politely tuned him out when got into the weeds with such things while helping you unpack boxes. 
You had everything you needed here. Well, most things anyway and your new ‘partner’ was all too eager to see to the rest. You unpacked boxes of elaborate and glamorous costumes, props, records, and journals you had kept for the day a show would be entirely yours to craft and now your time had come. You opened one of the well worn journals and thumbed through pages of written choreography and illustrations in margins denoting props and scenery needed for each dance. Your eyes scanned the room, making a mental inventory of pieces that still needed to be acquired for your first show at the end of the week. The club had already had its soft open serving drinks and Remy had found musicians to fill the atmosphere until the grand opening this Friday, where the image and reputation of this place would be put squarely on your shoulders. That made tonight’s rehearsal all the more important as you glanced at the clock and gathered your journals and sheet music together. You only had an hour or so with the band before the bar would be open to clients and you needed every minute you could get in preparation of the grand opening.
The club was exactly how you pictured it. Red velvet, mirrors, black and gold trim, crystal chandeliers. The bar was an island as soon as you entered that seemed to house hundreds of beautiful glass bottles of forgien and exotic liquor. Past the bar there were rows upon rows of cafe tables and booths that faced the stage up front opposite them. There even seemed to be sections completely curtained off, saved for something special or simply unfinished. You were surprised at the sheer size of it for all its intimate atmosphere, certainly made to feel even bigger with no one else inside. That last part landed as a slight surprise since the door had been open when you tried it.
You were early and as such made your way on stage to begin warming up. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirrors that lined the back wall, long black sheer robe flowing behind you, overtop your black bodysuit and garters, jewelry catching the light. It was just a rehearsal, but first impressions were important and dressing the part made you feel it all the more. Your blonde hair set in your signature vintage style and lips painted blood red, you certainly looked the part and hoped that much would appease Remy for now.
There was a record player beside the stage and you set the needle to play as you began your stretches, placing your leg atop one of the musicians chairs in lieu of a bar. The horn of the victrola eked out a lovely brass sound of a jazz band playing the blues so stirringly you didn’t hear the door open. Stretching and spinning and walking through your own choreography, you didn’t hear the door shut. It was only when the song ended and a voice as soft and dark as velvet spoke that you were aware that you were no longer alone.
“You’re not Remy.” He said simply. It startled you and made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It was a tall, slender, handsome man that stood at the bar watching you, dressed in beautiful crimson, gray and gold. His dark hair slicked back out of his face to reveal one calculated blue eye and one wild black and red one. His red eye did not blink or lid like the other, but stood out against the scars trailing down that side of his face. It was a frightening sight, to be sure but you were frightened at all. Only fascinated.
“No.” You responded definitively, scrutinizing the alluring stranger before you. The music picked back up and his gloved fingers drummed absentmindedly on the bar to the tune, the both of you regarding each other with keen interest.
“Then I suppose this-” He held up a gold skeleton key from his pocket and placed it flat on the bar, “-is for you.”
Was this the man Remy bought the building from? He had never mentioned anything about a key. Your mind was racing through what you could recall of tuning Remy out, but your appearance remained still and focused on the gentleman across the room. Never give away more than you have to. It was one of the first rules you had learned upon making the switch from the formal world of dance to the seduction that was burlesque. It’s as much about what you don’t do, as it is about what you do. And when it came to getting your bearings, that rule had served you well in the past and here it was doing so again. Silence stretched out before you as neither of you made any effort to speak or move, staring transfixed to the other in predatory observation.
A loud slam from behind you broke the spell and you turned to see the musicians filing in the stagedoor with their instruments. By the time you turned back the man at the bar was gone, key still where he had left it. 
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Name: Mistrum Remy Thwaite Color: Angels Red #Ba0021 Symbol: defaced defaced atom Strife Specibus: aerosolkind Handle: tidyCackling Animal: falcon Pronouns: she/her and they/them Age: 29 Birthday: 358th day of the year Sexuality: achillean Interests: journaling and public speaking Dream Moon: prospit Classpect: Bard of Heart Land: Land of Dark and Purgatory, an alert place, with comfortable Moloch consorts. It is a place full of casettes and plastic. Abraxas wants to play. Instrument: angelot
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Prologue: The Past: A team to behold
*No warnings apply here I think! Just kicking off the au with some actual content. Enjoy!
“If you ask anyone, they’ll say the first Power Ranger, and the leader of the Power Rangers was the Red Ranger. That's wrong. When it comes to that debate, Angel Grove tells a different story. Named after its founder, Angel Grove is known to be the location of the only set of Power Rangers proven to exist, and they call themselves the Mind Force. Led by the Green ranger, this team of heroes protected the world from those who wished it harm. There is no Red Ranger. In fact, there are only the Green, Yellow, Pink, and Grey rangers, recently  joined by the Orange ranger. These rangers have proven themselves courageous and are worthy of protecting our world from threats. Who are these masked vigilantes? The world may never know. But what we do know, is that for all the bravado surrounding them, this Red Ranger myth seems to be fully fictional ” He sucked in a breath. “ So, what do you all think? Think it’ll be good enough for the paper for once? The amount of lies in those things are disgusting, and I wanna spread some truth for a change.”
Janus, Remus, and Remy were all sat, gathered at the town's best location to unwind, the juice bar. The three had only been friends at the beginning of the school year, but a lot had changed since then. Now they were sitting, nearing the end of their school year, and had been through so much, and had so much yet to come. Things had started when they all went to a small cove, with that fateful day those crystals fell into their hands. Now they led lives they could never have dreamed of, fighting a great enemy in colour coordinated spandex suits, led by an alien in a test tube and a strange skittish android, all whilst being physically enhanced to battle for as long as possible. Hell, they could even go to space if they really wanted! All this, whilst still having the safety of home to fall back on. These three alone had become so close these past months, doing everything they could together. Their custom made communicators made it so they could chat any and everywhere, as well as be alerted to any danger afoot. Said communicators were crafted out of old watches, and luckily, watches could go with any outfit they wore. Everything was perfectly concealed.
“It’s good babes, but is this really the best time to speak about the rangers?” Remy tilted his sunglasses forward. “I mean, we don’t want any news on us, imagine having to deal with paparazzi without our stunning faces on show!” The other two on the table could only roll their eyes with their exasperated sighs as he proceeded to feign a faint. “Chill coffee addict, I’m just clearing up some damn conspiracy nonsense, besides, what's better for kicking off a journalism career than covering the one topic the other reporters won't seriously touch due to there being no interview chances?” Janus put his notebook down in a small huff of frustration, no longer being taken seriously due to Remy's joke. “What do you think ‘mus, do you agree with insomniac-Drew over there or do you have your own two cents?” The last teen twirled the moustache he’d grown before sitting up. “What do I think?! I think we should hunt down the squirt who started that rumour! I mean, what's so wrong with green being the leader? Why does red have to be the focus? There isn't even a Red ranger!” 
Remuses ranting quickly came to a close as someone approached the table. Emile practically collapsed into the chair she pulled out, exhausted much more than normal due to her normal routine, as well as the added battle from earlier that day. “What's gotten you three all riled up then?” The boys shifted their seats to accommodate the extra table member as Janus spun their notebook over to her. “Here Em, take a read and tell me what ya’ think. I’m thinking of finally giving journalism a shot, and I’m thinking that starting with the extra ranger rumour will be a great start.” Just as if his train of thought was finally back on track after being derailed, Remus resumed his rant, unaware of the sudden jarred expressions of everyone around him. “Who even does that?! The Power Rangers are great the way they are now! Who even came up with a Red Ranger?!”
“Your brother Remus. Your brother started the Red Ranger rumour." They all turned to Emile, Remy clearly holding in a laugh. "He told me all about it when I was babysitting him whilst you had that tournament away from town. We were sat watching cartoons as always, and he turned to me and asked ‘who's your favourite ranger? Mines the red one,’ and I said, ‘Roman, there is no Red ranger. Do you mean the Pink one?’ And he yelled, ‘No! The red one who leads the rangers!’ And by this point I stared at him and asked if he meant the Green Ranger, who we all know is the actual leader, and a great one at that, but he yelled again saying, ‘No! The Red one! The Green one’s only the second leader! The true leader is the Red Ranger at their base!’ And then he leaned super close to me and whispered ‘I’m the Red Ranger, I made him up, and I told everyone at school and they told all their friends and their parents, and now everyone knows of the Red Ranger!’ And then he struck a little pose and ran off. So I was walking with all of you the next day, and I was gonna tell you about it all but by then everyone already knew about Romans Ranger OC”
The table was struck silent by Emiles tirade, and stayed that way for a few seconds before Remy burst out laughing and verbal chaos ensued.
“Oh my god-”
“I am going to kill my brother-”
“Remus don’t you dare-”
“Fight, fight, fight!-”
“Hey, what's up everybody? What did I miss?”
The group had been so immersed in the story and their subsequent reactions, that no one even noticed the new face at the table, belonging to the newest member of the group. It was now Emile’s turn to sigh, due to dealing with antics like this on a daily basis. “Hey Tommy, you didn’t miss much, don’t worry about it-”
“My little pest of a brother started the damn Red Ranger rumour! I’m going to hit him in the head with a morning star if I get the chance!”
“Calm down babes, he's in elementary, you don't wanna be locked up for murder so lean back and settle for pranks like the rest of us.”
Tommy shunted his weight onto his hands to catch the others' attention at the table's sudden imbalance “I’m sure you’ll figure it out in time Remus, I mean, you can do a lot of stuff, you even helped me. Dealing with a rumour your brother started can’t be too bad, right? If anything, you could make a small rumour back that he loves his best friend to teach him a lesson.” The group shared an embarrassed expression upon realising just how much had actually been overheard by Tommy. They were meant to help him adjust, not the other way around. Once realising the group's flustered faces though, Tommy decided to carry on with what he initially came over to chat about, an impossibly high voice crack invading the beginning of his sentence.  “That being said, I do have a question about all this, being still new and all.” Janus leaned forward himself.
“Go ahead Thomas, what’s on your mind?”
“You can just call me Tommy, Jan, but I’ve been wondering, why hasn’t anyone figured your identities out yet? I mean, you only dress in your colours. Remus is always in a green tank top and letterman jacket, Em is always in her pink cardigan or leotard from doing gymnastics, Remys always in biking jacket with a grey shirt and black glasses and shades, and Jay is always in that yellow shirt with a yellow bookbag!” Whilst pointing out the obvious, he gestured to everyone when saying their names, before finally gesturing to himself. “Hell, even I’m beginning to dress in only orange and I haven’t even been with you guys that long! I just, I don’t get how we can hide our identities whilst dressing like what people expect the casual versions of them to look like. Isn’t the whole point of not telling anyone other than each other to, you know, not let anyone know? I mean I figured it out after being here for a week, it's plain obvious to anyone looking in.”
“Thomas-Tommy, the only reason you found out, is because you became a ranger in that first week, remember it or not. It's the basic technology that protects the morphers, Zordon, the base and our identities. I understand you’re concerned, but trust me on this one, there's nothing I haven’t thought of. We are going and protecting a world that can harm you from not following some arbitrary rules, and I’ve done everything I can to protect us from the fallout of things like working outside of the government on the scale we do.” A pause of an eternity passed as a concerned expression only formed more prominently now on Januses face. “You’ve never brought this up before, is there something on your mind?” The last ranger finally took a seat at the table. It was clear that he was made of pure exhaustion at that point, not being used to the work of a ranger. He slumped over in his chair as soon as he sat down in it, ploughing his head into his hands. “ It's just,... I’m,... What I’m sayin’…”
Emile held his hand in a gesture of support. “Take your time Tommy, no one is rushing you or judging you, we’ll try and help, okay?”
“Thanks Em,” he looked up at the faces of his only friends, “What if people find out? My life, it’s gonna fall to shambles, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” His voice shook. He was new to this, he didn't know how to handle the stress, the pressure. The only people he trusted with this secret gathered around him to help calm him. “It’s not the normal fallout I’m worried about, I’ll have you guys to help me through it and I’ll help you. It’s just... I fought against you at one point. I-I know that I’m not Lime, and Lime isn’t me, but Lime is me at the same time. It was still my body, and my face, whether I knew that or not. I... I still hurt you guys, and I still threatened people, and I have no idea if people will believe what actually happened! It's just… a lot to actually take in… and I… I-I… Agh, I just don’t know right now.”
No one knew how to answer him. Yes, they would all be in the same base problem if people found out, but he had a point. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, Tommy was the Lime ranger after not even being there a week, and he kicked their asses daily. It didn’t matter if he was now the Orange ranger, and one of the best fighters they’d met. The past was still there, and it still stung like a really awkward papercut soaked in lemon juice and vinegar. They’d all be in the same trouble with their identities revealed, sure, but Tommy would be in so much more trouble for something he had no voluntary part in doing.
“Alright Tommy, I need you to try and calm down and look at me.” Emile got level with him, coaching him through breathing until it became much more steady, and he could only look at her with tearful eyes. “We know that you and the Lime ranger are not and were never the same person. What our enemies do is they try to get at our insecurities, and they saw you as a way to do that, but they knew what person you are Tommy.” The rest of the group had backed off slightly, giving the two room, yet still crowding them like a curtain for privacy. “They knew words wouldn’t sway you, so they used some kind of magic to sway you, and you lost who you were.” She wiped his tears. As silent as they were, they still formed. “Let’s say, hypothetically, people found out. Lets say, one day, Jan's tech failed, or Remy gossiped too much, or Roman saw Remus transform and spilled the beans, or if someone did figure it out. We wouldn’t let them hurt you because of that. But even if we keep going in this bad scenario, what's the worst that could have happened, that we can’t fix with evidence, and teamwork, and everything that has made you worthy of this power and identity as much as the rest of us, hm?”
Silence now pierced their ears and hearts as those words sank in for all of them, not just Tommy. They’d never want for each other to fall, but it still could happen. But they were chosen for this job. Chosen for some reason, something that made them more worthy than their classmates, their teachers, their neighbours. Whatever that something was, it counted on them to protect the world from an alien-initiated doomsday. But they were still kids. The silence soon transformed from a searing spear to a soothing tranquil river of thoughts. None of them had said anything. They didn't need to. They’d never let that bad scenario happen, and didn’t need words to communicate their camaraderie.
“Thanks Emile, I… really needed to hear that.” Tommy shook off whatever crippling fear was left inside of him at the moment, standing as proud and as tall as he did in the ranger line up. “You’re right, I have to focus on who I am, and if I do, I’ll probably be who I truly want to be.” Standing up herself, Emile couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad you got that from what I said, I was getting a bit worried you’d blame yourself, which you shouldn’t, because the guy standing in front of me right now is one of my closest friends, and isn’t to blame for anything.” An almost melancholic atmosphere spread through the group. They all knew that what she said wasn’t the truth, but it would be nicer to believe it was. Just for now.
“Seeing as we’re all standing up already, does anyone want to join me at the library? I’ve got a few books to borrow that might help me with Alphas coding.” Maybe journalism could wait after all, being rangers brought them closer than ever, and Janus would much prefer to be fixing wires than going and losing that friendship after all of that. As they all looked at each other, pondering the idea, the bittersweet expression on their orange friend’s face lit up with joy. “The library? I actually haven’t ever been there, we should all go and you guys can show me around! I wonder if there's any good books on biology there…”
“Yea! Or some more psychology books, I’ve been blazing through them like the Horde trying to blaze through Eternia!”
“What?”
“Kids cartoon reference coffee-brain,”
“Oh.”
Remus walked ahead before turning back to look at his group. His team. His friends. “Look at this! We’ve got a future therapist obsessed with cartoons, a biology professor, a future barista, and a journalist. That's like, at least two Doctors in the group. God I can’t imagine that. What futures we’re gonna have, Eh?” The group caught up to him as Tommy caught his eye.
“We’re rangers, Remus, we are the future.”
-End-
Hope you enjoyed this snippet of what's to come! I doubt I'll be fully consistent, but I'll try to not post too far apart.
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s0fter-sin · 5 years
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i dreamed about gambit last night and honestly my subconscious peaked right there
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theshiftingcatboy · 3 years
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i,,,,ive been trying to write down my dreams and i wrote one when i was rlly tired???
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this is not words
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The Perfect Alibi
~12,100 words of (AG/TASM) Peter Parker x reader fluff
Pairing: Peter Parker x female reader
CW: Swearing, blood/wound, alluding to (Gwen’s) death
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If you went back less than two years and told your fresh-out-of-high-school self that you’d soon become the fake girlfriend of a vigilante, you’d… well, to be honest, you’d probably have found it cool.
Maybe ‘cool’ wasn’t the right word. More… unconventional.
It was the perfect arrangement. You both got exactly what you needed: an excuse, a reason, a justification for your actions.
It’s a ruthless, cutthroat job market out there and, after getting a full-ride scholarship Columbia University, which was widely regarded as the best school for science in New York, you knew these next four years were for focusing hard, studying harder, and getting the best grades possible. Bonus if those grades got you valedictorian.
Sure, maybe it had been a pipe dream to be valedictorian of your class but after topping almost all of your freshman courses, you gained more confidence in that crazy idea that you could just maybe do it. It would look stellar, unbeatable even, on job applications. Hell, maybe you wouldn’t even have to apply, and they’d all come crawling to hire you.
You’d created a list (found in the back page of your journal which you only wrote the most important things in) of non-negotiable ways to ace the college life.
1. No dating
2. No drugs/alcohol
3. No dating
4. Find like-minded friends, keep the circle small
5. NO DATING!!!
6. Don’t skip class under any circumstances. Even if you’re dead.
The list was your bible, and it had clearly served you well. However, at the beginning of your sophomore year… it started. The few close friends you’d made, Dana especially, starting probing into why you never dated. There were admittedly a number of people on campus you found attractive, some of them you even had a spark with, but you suppressed any emotion, snuffing any potential flame before it started. Whenever you tried to explain that your high-school relationship had almost cost you your SAT results due to the distraction of it, Dana and Sam would wave it off as you being a dumb teenager and point out that you‘re clearly better adjusted now, if not having gone too far in the opposite direction.
They pestered and pestered, obviously with their hearts in the right place but you were getting to the point where you were nervous that showing up to hang out with them would result in you being tricked into a blind date - that’s how persistent they were. They’d tell you whenever someone asked whether or not you were single, and you’d, without fail, say “Tell them I’m not available.” You were met with eye-rolls, admonishing stares, the occasional begging for you to give them a chance. You held firm. Half a semester into your sophomore year, they started worrying about you a little more, asking if you were nervous about dating, if you’d give it shot, did you not like anyone? It was okay if you didn’t. They just wanted you to be happy, not at all understanding the pressure you were under to keep your grades up to keep your scholarship. Almost at the breaking point, you considered going on just one date to shut them up for a while.
Then, one night, the perfect solution climbed through your window.
It was lucky your roommate’s girlfriend lived ten minutes from campus, effectively rending your room a single-person dorm. Seriously, you could count on one hand the number of nights Olivia spent in the dorm with you (and none of them were very pretty, considering she’d only sleep in her own bed when she and Remi were fighting). This particular night, all was well with their love so Liv was nowhere to be seen. It was early, around 2:00am, when someone jimmied open the latch on your fourth-story window.
You held your breath, dead silent, as your fingers closed around the Louisville Slugger aluminium bat you hadn’t used since you were nine but brought to college specifically for this reason. The blood pounded in your ears, your heart felt like it’d jumped into your throat, blocking any potential scream as the window between the two single beds slid open. A small grunt, a cough, a wheeze, then, a loud CLUNK brought a yelp through your lips as a tall, masked figured tumbled over your bedside table and onto your floor. The groan of pain told you he was injured, and the dim glow of the safety streetlights dotting the pavement outside illuminated the blue, the red, the webbed patterns, and you dropped the bat from shock. It fell in a muted clang to the floor beside the bed, ricocheting and softly whacking Spider-Man in the head.
“A-are you okay?” You gasped, instantly falling to your knees beside him. “You’re Spider-Man,” you stated the obvious, reaching up and scattering your hand around the beside table until you switched on the lamp. Once you did, another gasp left your lips when the brighter light revealed a large strip of blood pooling around his abdomen. “Can you hear me?” You took his masked head in your heads, looking at the blood stain slowly creeping, growing. He only responded with a groan. “Look, I-I know your identity is a secret so you can keep the mask, but you’ve gotta let me check out this wound.”
He groaned again, turning his head to look up at your face properly. “Oh man,” he breathed out, then tried to sit up. “Oh man, oh man,” he winced and grabbed his side, just at the bottom of the blood patch.
“I know first aid,” you let him sit up. “Look, I’m really not trying to-”
“I’ve gotta get outta here,” he coughed again, shakily planting one foot on the ground. “Wrong window, oh man.”
You winced, huffed and grabbed the first-aid kit from the bottom shelf of your bedside table, holding it up to show him. “Seriously, you can keep the mask on, but we have monthly dorm inspections and I can’t explain that much blood on my carpet without looking like a serial killer.” The frantic words tumbled through your lips in one long breath as you desperately hoped you weren’t going to have to report a dead vigilante in your room. Your chest heaved as you gestured to the drops making their way through his suit and splattering at his feet.
“Sorry- sorry!” He placed his other hand on his side as well, before looking over at your raised blinds. In a second he’d whipped up his wrist, shot a web at the cord, then yanked it down to cover your window. He looked down again at the blood, and you threw a towel to him. “Uh, thanks,” he winced again, “Ah, ah, ahhhh,” he breathed out, applying pressure to the patch. He sounded young.
“Will you let me see?”
He looked back up at you, and a small shift of his head to look at the first aid kit you’d opened told you he was considering it, then a lowering of his head and shoulders told you he’d resigned himself to it. “That would be nice,” he laughed nervously. “Man, sorry, you must’ve been so freaked out… some weird guy falling through your window. I promise I’m one of the good guys.”
Your mouth twitched into a nervous, wry smile as you beckoned for him to pull out the office chair which sat nestled in the desk at the edge of your bed. Having only gone to sleep an hour or two before after a night of trying to figure out the same damn physics question, your notes and failed attempts were strewn about the light oak desk. It was extra credit, to be fair, but the fact that it’d kicked your ass for four hours straight was enough for the sight of it to be discouraging.
“Mind the mess,” you sniffed, pulling Liv’s barely-used chair over to sit next to the vigilante. He turned his head as one hand went up to tug at a zipper on the back of his suit, just above the base of his neck.
“Looks complicated,” he said slowly, looking more intently as he worked the upper-half of his suit off his body, leaving his mask in-tact.
“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, biting your lip to distract from the heat pricking at your cheeks when he revealed his very toned chest and abdomen. “Something isn’t clicking. I’ll have another shot at it tomorrow and- ooh, ouch,” you let out a puff of breath as the five-inch gash was revealed. “Mind if I…?”
He nodded, “It doesn’t feel too deep. I can web it up.”
“Somehow that doesn’t seem sanitary,” you mumbled, shifting your glance upward to give him another wry smile, this one a bit more shy. “Does that stuff come out of you?” He laughed, which made you smile wider and blush as you picked up a cleaning pad and some rubbing alcohol from the kit. “Well, it didn’t seem like a stupid question.”
“No, you’re clearly not stupid,” he tilted his head, and something told you he was smiling behind his mask. Maybe you heard it in his voice.
“This is gonna sting,” you said, saturating the pad. “But judging by the news footage I’ve seen, you’ve got a pretty high pain tolerance.”
“They always show the videos of me getting my ass kick- AH!” He flinched with a sharp intake of breath when you pressed the pad directly onto his cut.
“Or maybe you don’t,” you teased. Which seemed impossible, right? Was this some kind of fever dream? Surely it wasn’t possible for Spider-Man to have accidentally stumbled into an Columbia dorm of all places. “Focus on my physics question,” you joked as you cleaned the wound, trying to assess how deep it was. You searched your brain for the information you’d learned at those first-aid courses, and came to the conclusion that it would probably be okay without proper medical attention. “At the risk of killing the best vigilante in the country, I think a bandage will do,” you looked up at him again, to find him focused on your question. He shifted the papers with his elbow, careful to not get blood on your notes, then you saw him lean in a little more. Taking the chance while he was distracted, you cleaned the wound completely and ripped open two large gauze pads.
“Your rounding isn’t wrong,” he suddenly spoke and you paused, moving your gaze from his gash to his mask. He looked at you for a second and then sighed, nodding back at the paper. “You wrote here, “rounding incorrect decimal?” … nah, that’s not it.”
“But my answer is so close to the one given. It’s only out by a fraction of a whole number. How could it not be a rounding issue?”
“These readings were taken in Antarctica, right?”
“Yeah, so? Centrifugal force on a sphere is-…” Then, it clicked. You let out a frustrated sigh. “Dahammit,” you whined and collapsed back into the chair. “Of course… the Earth isn’t a perfect sphere so it-”
“Centrifugal force isn’t the same around the globe, yeah. Something I’ll need to remember if I ever need to go up and take down Santa.”
“Right,” you scoffed a laugh and shook your head. As you placed the bandages, something occurred to you. He was good at science. He was on campus. He climbed in your window, clearly by accident. He sounded young.
He… could he?
It didn’t seem polite to ask. It didn’t seem like something you had the right to know-
“I gave it away, didn’t I?”
He said it solemnly but he didn’t sound upset. You took your lower lip between your teeth, not quite responding, just sticking the medical tape to his skin.
“Where’s your roommate?”
“She’s never here.”
You ripped off another piece of tape, swallowing thickly. He must go here. Maybe you knew him. Was this going to be a problem?
“Lucky. Mine will be back by now.”
You held your breath as you packed away the stuff. Your hands shook slightly, your nerves getting the best of you as you avoided looking up at his mask. Sensing your unease, he reached out a placed a gentle hand on your forearm.
“Can this stay between us?”
You paused, nodding furiously. “I’m good with secrets.”
“And with first-aid.”
“Sixteen-year-old me was considering med school.”
“What happened?”
“I’m too squeamish.”
He let out a surprised laugh and let go of your arm, and that whole thing kind of broke the tension. You half-grinned as you stood and replaced the kit underneath your bedside table.
“Thank you,” he stood and replaced the suit on himself with some effort.
“Thank you,” you stammered, turning back to him. “My uncle. He, uh, owns a small bodega in Queens. The last three Thanksgivings he tells the family how the heroic Spider-Man saved him from an armed robbery.”
He paused, only for a second, before zipping the suit back up behind him. “I’m glad I could help.” His voice was sincere, if not a bit abashed.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone this story. It’s the least I could do to help someone who’s actually making a difference. And, um, I might have some of my older brother’s clothes I stole if you need to change before going back into your dorm.”
You both stood in silence for a few long moments after you spoke the quiet part out loud.
“I’ve got a pack stashed on the roof.”
“Good,” you nodded, crossing your arms in front of your pyjama top. “I take it you’ll be going out the window considering boys aren’t allowed on this floor after 11pm?”
He hung his head, but you heard a small chuckle, which made you need to suppress a cheeky smile.
“Thanks for the reminder.”
You stood aside as he approached, letting him pass you. He removed the webs from your blinds and switched off your lamp before letting the fabric fling up into its rolled-up position. He crawled out the window and just before he closed it again, he turned to you, that smile evident in his voice, and said:
“I’ll see you around.”
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There wasn’t really a hope of easily going back to sleep after that encounter. You actually had half a mind to march yourself down to the medical unit to get checked out, wondering if you’d studied too hard and given yourself hallucinations to make life less math-y.
You managed to catch an hour or two of sleep before your alarm went off, and when you planted your feet on the floor your eye immediately caught the droplets of blood on the carpet. It had happened. Spider-Man had been in your room, you’d patched him up, he said he’d see you around. He practically admitted to being a student here. Which was crazy. Insane. How on earth- why on earth...?
There was too much going on in your brain, too much to process, so you used his helpful hint to distract yourself with scurrying through the final stages of the physics question still strewn across your desk (thankful to see it was free of any bloodstains). Using the hint he’d given you, you cracked it in just under half an hour; just enough time to frantically brush your teeth in the shower, throw on some warm casual clothes, sling your bag over your shoulder and rush out the door as you shuffled the work into a folder as best you could.
If you walked fast you’d make it slightly early, which is how you liked to be, but this time, as you made the trek to your nine a.m. lecture, you found your eyes darting between every tall, slender, male student you saw. He could be any one of them, and everyone around you was none the wiser.
When one guy made eye contact with you, your breath caught in your throat and the immediate feeling searing through your gut was that it had to be him. But when you looked away, then looked back, he‘d turned his attention elsewhere. He looked a bit too tall anyways.
Physically shaking your head and blinking hard before you entered the lecture hall, you took a deep breath in. The second you stepped inside, you released it in overwhelming thankfulness - a sleepy grin came to your cheeks when you saw Dana and Sam sitting in your usual three, Sam beckoning you over with an extra cup on her writing desk. You trudged over, while trying to make it look like you weren’t trudging, but your best friends were too perceptive.
“Holy shit, dude,” Dana laughed, somewhat nervously. “Did you sleep last night?”
“Not really,” you mumbled, sliding in next to Sam, resisting the urge to kiss her passionately in thanks for the coffee she’d brought you, making sure to not accidentally kick the guy at the seat in front of you.
Sam sipped her coffee and raised an eyebrow. “Everything alright? Liv and Remi aren’t fighting, are they?”
“No… no,” you shook your head and wrapped your fingers around the coffee. You’d promised him. “This extra credit question got the better of me and I lost track of time. I figured it out, but I barely slept.”
“I suppose it was a pipe dream to hope that you’d been up late texting someone…” Sam sang, taking a rather sassy sip of her coffee.
“Or, you know, making out with them,” Dana tossed in, opening her laptop as the professor entered the room.
You laughed through your nose as you swallowed your own life-giving sip. “When have I ever given you two even and inch?” You pulled your own laptop out. “I’m not dating in college. End of story.”
“We’ll find you someone you can’t refuse.”
“Please don’t.”
“One date?”
“Hey, sorry to bother you.” The three of you looked down to the brown-haired guy who’d taken the seat directly in front of you. He smiled sheepishly and held out his empty hands. “I kinda forgot a pen. Do you have one I can borrow?”
He was looking directly at you, which made you furrow your brow in question as to why he was only asking you, but you were barely there, so in an automatic movement you reached into the outer pocket of your bag, “Uh, yeah, of course,” you smiled back and handed him a pen. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” he smiled, but it was more like a little grin, and it lingered for a second or two before the professor cleared his throat and began the class.
As you opened your notes document Sam nudged your elbow with her own. When you looked over, you were met with very enthusiastic wide-eyed friends who were mouthing “HE’S CUTE.” Instead of indulging them in yet another reason as to why they should respect your “No,” you rolled your eyes and turned your attention to the matter at hand: mechanical waves.
It was a gruelling three hour morning lecture slot, thankfully with a fifteen minute break in the middle of it to stretch your legs, refill water bottles, go to the bathroom, perhaps brave a mad dash to the closest coffee cart. Today, however, once the boy who’d borrowed your pen had absconded to do one of those things, Dana and Sam cornered you in your seat before you had much of a chance to stop them.
“He’s so cute,” Sam whispered loudly. “Did you see how he looked at you?!”
“Who doesn’t have a pen?” Dana scoffed excitedly.
Sam cut in, still looking at you. “Everyone has a pen.”
“He wanted an excuse to talk to you.”
“Or,” you ducked your head to the side. “He forgot his pen.” Before they could protest you help up a hand and declared you were braving that mad-dash, asking if they wanted anything. They declined, both with stern glares, so you chuckled and rushed out of the room.
The closest coffee cart was only a two minute power-walk, so the trick was beating the rest of the people who had the same idea. The line only had a few people in it by the time you got there, one of them being the boy who borrowed your pen. He was directly in front of you, but didn’t turn to see who’d taken the spot behind him. That was probably for the better, considering your head was so full of equations you doubted your ability to have any kind of social interaction. In no time, he was at the front.
“I’ll have uhhh, double espresso and,” he turned to you. “Whatever she’s having.”
“Oh!” You shook yourself out of an equation. “You don’t have t-”
“Consider it rent for the pen,” he chuckled. “Hurry up, these people need their caffeine.”
“Black,” you blurted out. “Black, no milk, no sugar. Thanks,” you smiled and rubbed your arm self-consciously as the boy paid and thanked the barista for the coffee. He held them both in his hands as he stepped several feet away from the line, forcing you to follow him to receive your drink. You held in a sigh, hoping this very nice boy wasn’t about to ask you out.
“One black coffee,” he smiled, handing it to you.
You slipped the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your palms before taking it. The cups at these places were always too thin. “Thanks, but… you really didn’t have to do that. It’s just a pen.”
When you met his eye, you saw him take a nervous breath in, release it, his face softened but like someone who had to deliver bad news. Something about his demeanour, his voice, his posture - you narrowed your eyes and tilted your head in curiosity.
“Then, uh… consider it an apology for the blood on your carpet.”
The blood in your own body immediately drained from your face, somehow still pounding in your ears, in your throat, even in your hands and feet. Your stomach surged with a sickly anxiousness as your chest heaved and you tried breathing through your nose.
“Hey, hey,” he placed a hand on your shoulder and you flinched, too rooted in your spot to take the backwards step you so desperately internally screamed at your foot to perform. You’d always had a hell of a flight instinct, but a bitch of a freeze response. “Are you okay? Sorry, that’s a lot to drop on you- I’m an idiot- sorry, sorry,” he ducked down to try catching your gaze as you calmed yourself down enough to brave looking up at him again. He had such kind eyes.
“I didn’t tell anyone,” you whispered.
“I know,” he removed his hand from your shoulder. “I heard your friends earlier. Thank you,” he nodded earnestly. “That means a lot.”
“Y-you didn’t have to show me your face.”
“I know, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, this is gonna sound so stupid but it sounded so good in my head- I had this idea when I heard your friends talking - which, I wasn’t eavesdropping by the way, or not trying to, it kinda just happens with the whole spider thing - but I heard them giving you a hard time and I just thought-”
“I’m gonna need you to get to the point before I throw up.”
He froze, then let out the remainder of his breath. “Hear me out.” He gestured to you, “You have friends who won’t get off your back about dating,” he started.
Well, there came the blood returning to your face; the superhero knew you were an antisocial dweeb.
He then pointed to himself, “I have a roommate who keeps asking where I go so late at night.”
The second he’d spoken it aloud, it made sense. It made perfect sense. You instantly relaxed, which made him relax. Your head turned to the side in thought, a bit of a mischievous smile coming to your cheeks, despite all odds, and you admitted, “I like where this is going.”
You two shared a look, both fighting the excitement of the potential arrangement. He truly was a hero.
Other students began making their way back to the lecture theatre and so you two walked back together, whispering between yourselves, exchanging names. His name was Peter. Peter trusted you, and he knew he could give you what you needed, and you could give him what he needed. Ultimately, you both needed the same thing:
An alibi.
“I have a plan,” he grabbed your arm just before you two came into the line of sight of the people inside the hall.
“What is it?”
“You’ll see,” he nodded. You gave him a look. “Just- don’t tell them I bought your coffee.”
With that, he slipped past you and into the room. “Peter!” You called after him in a loud whisper, but he was already gone. You gave yourself a moment to laugh at the absurdity of this entire thing, ponder your existence, and make a good case as to why you really should go to the medical wing for a psych evaluation because no way in hell was this happening.
But there he was, sitting at the seat in front of you, twirling the pen expertly. You wondered if he was one of those people who’d looked up how to do the pen tricks in class, or if it was a result of the whole Being Spider-Man Thing.
Just like sleeping the night before, focusing in class was some unobtainable pipe dream. This time you didn’t try forcing it upon yourself, instead giving yourself a gentle reminder that you could always listen to the recording later and it was okay to be kind of freaking out about this.
Peter seemed calm. Far too calm for someone who just revealed their secret identity to someone he’s met literally one time before. He seemed so sure… maybe there was some kind of super-intuition to go along with his powers. God, his powers. How did he get them? How long has he had them? Did he seek them out, or was it an accident? A billion questions raced through your mind, unlike the professor’s voice which went in one ear and out the other, and you couldn’t stop wondering how it all worked and if you’d ever be able to ask him.
Time flew as you zoned out of the teaching and in no time everyone around you was making to pack up their things. Peter stood up and turned to where you were closing your laptop lid. He placed the pen on your table and slid it towards you, leaving his hand on top of it.
“I owe you one,” he smiled.
Your heart pounded as you locked eyes with him, your tongue subconsciously slipping out to wet your nervous lips. “I-it’s just a pen,” you repeated the earlier sentiment.
“Yeah, but,” he shrugged. “Who knows, if I hadn’t taken those notes I might have failed this class and flunked out and ended up in some dead-end job I hate, no hope of happiness in my career or paying off my now-useless student loans…” he let himself trail off. You laughed once through your nose and suppressed a grin as best you could as you reached over and took the end of the pen his hand wasn’t covering.
“So you’re saying I saved your life?”
“You’re a hero,” he smirked knowingly. “The least I could do is buy you a coffee.”
You nodded to the table next to you, “I have a coffee.”
“Dinner, then.”
You laughed from pure surprise, and maybe a little bit from the nearly inaudible squeak you heard leaving Sam’s mouth as she turned away and poorly pretended that she wasn’t listening. Oh, he was good. You narrowed your eyes at him for a few moments before letting your smile turn mischievous and you tugged the pen from his grasp.
“Considering I saved your life… it better be a nice dinner.”
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Needless to say, Sam and Dana damn near exploded when you three left the room together. You were grinning, caught in a flurry of fanatical friends declaring how proud they were of you, how cute he was, what were you going to wear?! Did you want Sam’s help doing makeup? She’s really good at it and she wouldn’t make it look too much and-
“Guys,” you laughed, hoisting your bag higher. “It’s no big deal. It’s one dinner.”
“No big deal?!” Dana whisper-shouted. “You just said yes to a date.”
“With a really cute guy!”
“Yeah, and I’m sure it’ll be nice and fun, he seems cool,” you smiled and checked your watch. “I need to get to Bennett’s office hours but I’ll catch you guy later.”
They begrudgingly let you go, walking off together while chatting about lunch.
On your way to Professor Bennett’s office, you tried making those extra credit notes just a little bit tidier, letting your mind wander to this strange arrangement you were about to enter into. How would it work? What would you do together? What do you say to your friends, your family?
All those questions were answered later, around midnight, when there was a noise at your window for the second night in a row. You were sitting on your bed studying, the blind was drawn but there was only one person it could be. You opened your window and Peter crawled in with much more grace than than his previous entrance. He was just in jeans and a zip-up sweatshirt, so the powers must be him and not the suit.
“How’s your cut?” You asked as he drew the blind. He listed his shirt, revealing that toned core once again, and showed you a wound that looked more like a scar at this point.
“Much better,” he dropped it. “Thanks for cleaning it out, I’m not too great at that and it’s a mess when it’s not done right. Sorry you had to do that.
“No, no, it’s fine,” you sniffled a laugh and crossed your arms over your stomach, still finding yourself somewhat tongue-tied in his presence.
Desperate to fill the awkward silence, Peter clicked his tongue, “Should we figure this thing out?”
“Yeah!” You jumped.
“You sure?” He lifted an eyebrow. “You alright?”
“Yeah, good- I’m good,” you assured. “So how do you see this working?” You perched on the edge of your bed, Peter mimicked your movement on Liv’s white comforter.
“You and I say we’re dating. Boyfriend and girlfriend. That way your friends don’t pester you to find someone and, as an added bonus, if you ever want time away from them to study you can say you’re with me,” he said. You nodded in thought. “And my roommate is getting way too suspicious about why I come back so late, so I can say I was with you,” he nodded back.
“Okay, but we also have to sell it,” you cut in. “We can’t just say we’re dating and then never be seen together.”
“Good point. We should probably go on some dates.”
“One meal out in a public visible place each week, and we can do our work in the library together. That’s an easy two-for-one.”
“You’re a huge nerd, aren’t you?”
“That’s no way to talk to your girlfriend,” you playfully shot back. He chuckled, you smiled. Feeling the anxiety alleviate, and the comfort he radiated filling the space between you, your smile was genuine, and weirdly excited. This would work.
And it did work. Really well, in fact.
You went out to your first dinner together the very next evening at a casual restaurant close to campus. There, you covered the basics. Home, families, you were on a scholarship and he was too. He went to a dedicated school for science so when you asked why no MIT he explained he couldn’t bear to leave New York; he had a lot of history here and even though the city had taken much from him, he couldn’t bear to leave. He didn’t elaborate on what that meant, but you got the feeling that, whatever happened, it still hurt him.
Much to your surprise, you felt confident and comfortable enough around him to brave asking how he got his powers. Though as the night went on, and he told you stories, and you keenly listened and asked questions that made him think and laugh and tell more stories, you couldn’t quite believe your luck. Because here was someone you were about to spend a lot of time with, and you genuinely liked him as a person. Thank goodness Spider-Man wasn’t a pompous asshole. That would’ve sucked.
You also took the chance to establish some ground rules and ways for him to work around his roommate. You recounted the tales of Liv and Remi, and you two agreed that if for whatever reason he couldn’t sneak in your window one night, the blind would be closed. Be it that Liv was back or something else was going on, he wasn’t to enter unless it was open.
When it came to the whole “selling it” part of your relationship, you both felt sure enough to be flirty and cozy in public, give each other hugs, he‘d put his arm around you, the very innocent list went on. You would do those study dates in the library, and he’d have to make a bit of effort with your friends and you with his, otherwise they’d resent the other for stealing their friend away.
“Man, this is getting complicated,” you laughed nervously, pulling your coat on as you two walked out of the restaurant. “But I think it’ll work.”
The hopeful disbelief in your voice made Peter laugh, and he threw his arm around your shoulders just as the late-autumn air started nipping at your neck. Seamlessly, you put your arm around him and you two walked across campus keeping each other warm.
That very same night Peter went out on his patrol, and he snuck back in through your window just before three in the morning. He was quiet. It only woke you because it was such an unsettling sound. But those nights started happening frequently and that early hour shift of the pane soon blended into your dreams most evenings.
During your library study dates, or when you were out eating your meals together, Peter would tease you for the way you snored, or the panda pyjamas you loved to wear. Sometimes you’d swat at him, though most times you were able to come up with a remark to shoot right back. He seemed to like that.
You learned a lot about Spider-Man, and a lot about Peter Parker, over the following months.
He was resilient. Even after the occasional night he’d slip into your window and his groan of pain would give his injury away, he’d shrug it off and insist he was fine. Sometimes he let you help. Whenever he did, though, he made sure to break the tension by commenting on the chubby pandas or lamenting that you weren’t wearing them. He’d crack lame jokes until your worry turned to exasperated humour and you were fighting a grin instead of fighting the urge to worry sick over him.
He was insanely smart. The guy went out five or six times a week to keep the city safe, returning home sometimes just before dawn. News story after article after op-ed explained how Spider-Man was cleaning up the streets but privately, Peter Parker was somehow still acing all his classes on three hours sleep and way too much coffee. Or maybe it wasn’t too much - super metabolism and all. Actually… it’s a wonder coffee even worked on him.
He was kind, and a good friend. Those nights you got dinner, or those mornings you got brunch, all to keep up appearances, he’d ask more about you. He wanted to know about your life, your interests and hobbies, what you wanted to do with your intellect. He was encouraging and helpful, and so caring. One night he returned to find you still awake, hunched over your desk, crying from stress. God, you felt so stupid to have him see you like that. But he didn’t make you feel stupid. He didn’t make you feel foolish for being upset over something you couldn’t figure out because he seemed to understand the way you doubted yourself and how much it killed you to feel incapable. It was your own version of powerlessness, and he said he knew all about feeling powerless. Seeing you were embarrassed to be actively crying in front of him, he said: “Put on your pandas. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Ten minutes later, Peter crawled back through your window with a pint of chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream and two of the tiniest spoons you’d ever seen. The sight of the fluorescent pink plastic spoons made you laugh, and laughing made you cry a little more just from being overwhelmed, but Peter chuckled and pulled you in for a warm hug. When he pulled away, he made fun of you for the panda pyjamas.
Around the time you two celebrated four months of fake dating, some kind of guilt started tugging at your chest. It was something you’d been thinking about for a while and it had never seemed like the right time to say anything about it. Though one Saturday morning, over surprisingly good pancakes in the cafeteria, you noticed a girl from your class and her stare lingering on Peter for a few seconds too long for someone who wasn’t interested. She was beautiful. You’d met her once, in passing really, but she seemed really sweet. Smart, too. Peter didn’t seem to notice her, happily chatting away to you about an armed robbery he’d foiled the night before. Or, you thought he was, but his hand waving to you made you snap back into the moment with small puff of air.
“Sorry, Peter” you sniffed and turned to your pancakes, realising you’d barely touched them.
“I guess you’ve heard one too many stories of heroism lately,” he smiled kindly, albeit sheepishly.
“Not at all,” you smiled. “I like your stories. I‘ve… I’ve just been thinking about this whole thing and…” you sighed and didn’t quite meet his eye.
“Hey,” he reached his hand across the table, not grabbing yours, just enough to pull your focus upwards.
You sighed deeper. “I don’t want to hold you back if there’s someone you actually want to date.” Your gaze turned back to the swirling mess of melted butter and syrup. “You’re a great guy. Anyone here would be lucky to date you a-and I don’t want you to feel like you can’t.”
Peter was silent for several long moments, retracting his hand and sitting back to press himself into the leathery cushions of the booth. When you looked back up at him, he was looking out of the window into the busy courtyard. Even though the snow had just melted, students gathered around tables chatting and laughing over breakfast, blissfully unaware this seemingly-ordinary student had single-handedly stopped a shop-owner from losing a night’s takings, and potentially much more than that.
“I’m, uh-… I’m not ready. For anything like that,” he sniffed, pulling himself away from a memory of someone before looking at his own nearly-empty plate. He averted his eyes and chuckled sadly, “It’s been two yehears but I still… it feels wrong to think about another girl that way.”
You were smart. You could tell this pain was far more than just a bad breakup. This was true loss.
“I’m happy with you,” he finally looked up, eyes noticeably glassy but nothing more than that. “I can be myself around you and there’s no pressure, and it’s fun and it’s so weird that we’re doing this,” he laughed again, and he looked at you, urging his sincerity. “But this is exactly what I need right now.”
You smiled sadly, feeling a little bad for bringing this up, still grateful to know that even in some small way, you truly were helping him too.
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The scheme continued to great success. Your friends were happy that you were so happy, they liked Peter - really liked him, and you got some unequivocally blissful, silent study time when you were supposedly with him but he was actually webbing crooks to brick walls and calling the cops on them with their own phones. Peter’s roommate liked you and liked that you kept Peter away from the dorm, giving him the chance to bring whoever he liked over. You giggled abashedly when he’d told you that but he was so confident in his statement that you had to respect the machismo.
There had only been a handful of nights your blind had been closed when Peter came around. One of them you‘d fallen asleep at your desk and forgotten to open it, the other you were holding and comforting a sobbing Liv as she lamented over Remi apparently texting another girl. It was all a misunderstanding, apparently, which was little solace to Peter who had to strip and change on the roof when it was covered in snow.
All in all, you were making it work.
Then, the day came when it all threatened to unravel.
“Peter, nine-one-one, get to my dorm now!” You’d hung up as soon as you‘d made the demand, then tossed your phone down on the bed and paced back and forth across the carpet. His damned bloodstains never fully came out and they were all you could focus on as you took your thumbnail between your teeth, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. In less than a minute, a breathless Peter burst into your room. You were so used to having him come through the window that you gave a startled yelp when he near-crashed through your door.
“What’s wrong?!” He panted. With one hand ready to shoot a web, his eyes darted around your room to assess it for any threats, only finding a very upset you with your arms folded over your stomach and a worried-sick look on your face. “Hey-hey-hey, what happened?” His battle posture dropped as he took on his own worried look. He shut the door and strode over to you, placing his gentle hands on each of your upper arms.
“The worst thing possible,” you breathed out shakily.
He looked back and forth between your eyes, urging you to continue.
“We have to go on a double date tomorrow night.”
His worry immediately turned into confusion, then into disbelief, then his hands dropped from your arms and he opened his mouth but couldn’t quite find the words - kind of a first for him, in your experience. You started blurting out the chain of events before he had the chance to turn tail and run.
“Dana asked what I was doing tomorrow night and I said hanging with you, obviously, and she asked what we were doing and I stupidly said we didn’t know yet “probably watch a movie” - that’s what I said - and she was like “oh, if you don’t have plans then we should totally go on a double date” and I had no good reason to say no and I panicked and-and-and said yes, and now we have to-”
His hands met your shoulders again, his features hesitant, and it stopped you in your tracks. You panted from the nerves, from the lack of breathing in your retelling. Peter grimaced and lowered his voice to a whisper to tease, “You’re scaring me.”
Your worry turned into a scowl when you saw the amusement behind his eyes. With a small grunt of frustration you shoved his hands off of you and looked out the window.
“Hey, it’s not a big deal,” he said calmly. “It’ll be fine.”
“Fine? Fine?!”
“Oh no-”
“Peter, we know big picture things, family, friends, aspirations, but there’s no way we know enough about each other to convincingly play a couple who’s been together for nearly five months.”
“Then we’ll study,” he declared with a nod.
“Study?”
“I’ll give you a crash-course in Peter Parker, and you can do the same. You and I get along great, we’re comfortable around each other, convincing Mike and Dana we’re in love will be a piece of cake.”
“Well,” you mumbled, “Love is kind of a stretch. It’s only been five months.”
“Oh, trust me,” he grinned, taking steps back towards the door. “If I’d given you the full Peter Parker experience, you’d be head over heels right now.”
You raised an eyebrow, “Is that so?”
“Absolutely. Hey, I’ve got class but I’ll be back in two hours,” he opened the door to leave and you opened your mouth to maybe protest, maybe ask him to skip class and start studying now, but he pointed to you with one foot out the door, “The vege sub from that weird little shop you like? No pickles? I’ll bring dinner.” And with that, he was gone.
To distract yourself, and to make good use of the time while Peter learned more Spanish, you started looking up relationship quizzes, get-to-know-you questions, lists of things to ask the other person before you get married - quite literally any content you could get your hands on. Then, you stumbled across the holy grail: an app.
IceBreak was free - it had a few ads but, whatever - and it landed on your phone‘s Home Screen with an icon showing a minimalist ice cube adorned with a small crack. The reviews said it was fantastic - that there were conversation starters for friends, family, new relationships, long-term relationships, roommates, almost every way a human could be connected to another. You were sifting through some of the questions, smiling as your heart lifted, when a knock on the door commanded your attention. You called for Peter to come in, recognising the way he seemed to always knock.
“One vege sub for my beautiful girlfriend,” he charmed with a cocky smile. You fought the urge to stammer and blush, but didn’t fight it very well. Peter‘s smile turned into a grin and a laugh as he closed the door with his foot. “You can’t act like you’ve never heard that before.”
“I know, it’s just… been a while,” you blushed harder and started unwrapping the sandwich. “How was class?”
“Couldn’t tell you, I was dreaming up the new schematics for this,” he bumped his eyebrows and pulled a small device from his backpack. “New and improved web-shooter.”
“Let me see.”
He handed it to you and sat beside you on your bed, both of your backs against the wall. His feet hung well over the other side’s edge, so he didn’t bother taking off his shoes. You’d since changed into a faded long-sleeved shirt and some workout leggings, even though you hadn’t worked out in way too long. You tucked your feet underneath your legs as you sat up and inspected the device. It did look more streamlined than the previous model. You knew better than to test it, knowing there was an unexpected kick Peter was keenly attuned to, so you handed it back to him with an impressed nod. You sucked your teeth and smirked to yourself before saying, “Espero que valga la pena reprobar español.”
He chuckled and winked, “Ya soy fluido.”
You showed him the app and let him focus his eyes on tinkering with the web shooter, picking up minuscule tools from his small tool kit, as you two exchanged answers to all the basic questions people in a relationship would realistically know about each other.
Favourite colour, flower, movie, dream vacation location, would you rather go to the moon or the bottom of the ocean, did you ever want to climb Mount Everest? What did you want to be when you grew up, and did that change? Why did it change? Do you think you’d be good at the job you wanted to do when you were six?
You went back and forth for over an hour, Peter successfully getting his shooter into an acceptable beta model.
“Morning person, or night person... I think we know the answer to that,” you bumped your eyebrows and pressed the NEXT button. One you had, Peter looked up at you with a worn look in his eye.
“I think we’ve studied enough.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“You’re forgetting I’ve got much more on the line here,” he laughed. “They’re not going to quiz us on each other. They won’t know if I don’t know your favourite colour.”
“Yours is green.”
“So is yours, but that’s beside the point.”
“Just a few more,” you pleaded. “For my peace of mind.”
“Five more,” he put the web-shooter down, giving in with a turn of his head against the wall to give you a firm stare.
“Fine,” you sighed and clicked the randomise button on the app. “What was your favourite place to go as a kid?”
“Easy. The skatepark,” Peter shrugged. “You?”
“The museum.”
“Wow. You’ve always been a nerd, haven’t you?” He teased. “Did you collect rock samples too?”
“Next question,” you glared, fighting a smile, settling back beside him so you could look at the phone together. This proved to be a mistake, proven by overwhelming desire you had to press the button again, fib that you’d already had that question, and ignore the new question that’d popped up on the screen.
Where are you most ticklish?
“Oh, uh… I think on my feet? I don’t know, bad guys tend to use knives and guns, not feathers. How ’bout you?” He asked it so casually, and he didn’t even look at you when he asked it. If you had the ability to act cool, calm and collected you may have been able to rationalise that Peter was not considering acting on the knowledge he was seeking, but the lie tumbled through your lips before you had the chance to use that rational part of your brain.
“Umm- I-I’m not,” you cleared your throat, wondering if there was possibly a more obvious way to tell that lie.
“You’re not telling me?”
He turned his head. Oh no. You didn’t return the look. Instead, you shrugged, “No, I’m not ticklish,” you mumbled, swallowed thickly and pressing your thumb against the random button. Peter stayed looking at you, and you could’ve sworn he was smirking in your peripheral vision. “Okay! When did you have your first kiss?” You braved turning to look at him, hoping it looked innocent enough. He didn’t respond right away, instead narrowing his eyes. You nodded to urge him to answer, and he cracked a cheeky grin.
“The summer between eighth and ninth grade. At Camp Riverside in Maine. You’re lying to me.”
“I haven’t even told you about my first kiss.”
He raised his eyebrows, and before you could react his fingers were at your side. You gasped at the contact and shifted to move away before realising he hadn’t made any attempt at tickling you.
“You little liar!” He laughed and a whimper slipped through your lips as he made no moves to take his hand off you. “How are we supposed to convincingly play a loving couple if you won’t be honest with me?” He punctuated his teasing rhetorical question with a dig of his fingers, making you jump and squeak. “Secrets can destroy a relationship, you know,” he said as if he were serious, squeezing your side a few more times as giggles bubbled up from your chest and you shot your hand down to close around his fingers. “I mean, really?” He clicked his tongue, beginning to shift to face you. Your eyes widened and you began stammering.
“Wa-wait, wait, Pete,” you laughed, nerves bringing a blush prickling to your cheeks. “They’re not gonna ahask about thihis,” you sniffled, still trying to push away his hand which had stilled at your side.
He shrugged and sighed deeply, feigning the despair of having no other choice. “But-but what if they do? I mean, we can’t get caught,” with a solemn shake of his head. “And you clearly can’t be trusted to be forthcoming with this information, so I might need to-”
“No, Peheter!” You tried to squirm away as he opted to finish his sentence not with an explanation, but with a demonstration. His other hand found your other side, and they both creeped up for him to lightly dig his fingers into your lowest ribs. Your elbows folded inwards and tried to shove him off as you fell into desperate giggles almost immediately. “NahanonoNO!” You tried turning in on yourself as his attack made your backside slide down from where you’d been sitting up. As much as you tried to press your arms against his hands to dissuade him, to push him off course, he still seemed unbothered by your attempts at self-defence. “PARKER!”
“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”
“And youhou- YOU- AHA-” You kicked out and tried to turn onto your front as he brought his hands inwards to claw at the sides of your stomach. Completely involuntarily, you kicked out and caught his shin with your foot. “CUT IT OHOUT!”
He laughed and grabbed above your knee with one hand, squeezing the muscle between his thumb and middle finger, making you shriek and kick out again before his grip closed around your knee and pulled you further from the wall. “If you’d just answered the question I wouldn‘t be forced to extract this information from- woah!” He cut himself off with a laugh when his fingers were vehemently blocked from trying to wedge themselves under one of your arms. He yanked you even closer, your hips nearly over his legs, and got to work on prying your bicep away from your side. “What do we have here, huh?”
“Peter, so help m— AHH NO!” You growled and sent your knee punting into his stomach. He made a small grimace, but your strength wasn’t really something that could hurt him. “Back OFF, Web-Head!” You shouted through nervous giggles, trying your best to keep your arms clamped to your sides. He scoffed and paused his wrestling, giving you a mischievous look.
“Really? You’re gonna get cute with me?” He resumed his fighting, with much more strength than before. You squeaked and shook your head as he pulled you by your wrists to be sitting up. “Right now, you’re gonna get cute with me?!”
“Noho, I- Ihi wohon’t!” You laughed and squirmed nervously, but you were no match for his strength. With another swift tug, he lurched you forwards to be sitting between his legs. With a final yank, he turned you to be caught with your back against his chest, his legs ensnaring yours as he handled your wrists in his grip. “Peteher,” you sniffed, squirming as anxious giggles bubbled through your lips. “Thihis is so unfair!”
Before you could register what was happening, Peter grabbed your left bicep and pulled it away from your side with terrifying ease. Before you had the chance to gasp, squirm, or beg, his other hand shot around your waist, up your ribs and dug wiggling fingers into the soft space of your underarm. You shrieked out in laughter and arched your back away from him, thrashing in his trapping limbs.
“Woah-ho!” He laughed, letting your arm clamp down at your side with his tickling fingers worming deeper against the thin long-sleeved shirt. “Oh man, I’m never gonna let you live this d-”
SMACK!
You didn’t mean to slap him.
It was his fault, really. You tended to get involuntarily violent when tickled, even if you did secretly find the whole ordeal pretty fun and playful. Nevertheless, the open palm that’d met his jaw now covered your own gasping mouth, his hand beneath your arm stilled from the shock of your hit.
“I’m soho sorry,” you apologies through laboured breaths. “I dihidn’t mean to. I- HEY! Peter - NO!”
He, apparently, didn’t accept your apology. Because his right hand abandoned your underarm in favour of grabbing your own right hand, the one that had dared to slap him, and he pinned it to the wall above his shoulder. With widened eyes, you saw him pick up the web-shooter he’d been tinkering with and aim it at the hand he’d stuck above you.
“N-n-no! Don‘t you dare web me!”
Fwip.
“HEY! Get it off!” You yanked on your wrist, now webbed to the wall, gritting your teeth with a frustrated growl to hide the blush creeping into your cheeks. “Peter,” you whined, “Let my hand go.”
“Mmmno. That one’s in time out.”
In an instant, his fingers were lightly skittering at the fabric under your now-exposed arm. The sensation was light, just enough to be damn near unbearable, and your reaction was instant, dramatic, and, apparently to Peter, hilarious. He erupted into laughter alongside your squealing, breathy bursts of loud, shrieking giggles.
When your free hand swiped over at his tickling fingers, he closed around your wrist and held it just enough at bay that you couldn’t interfere with his torment. A growl of frustration resounded through your laughter that was pitching up every second he continued, and he spluttered in his own laughter when he found an especially sensitive spot just above your ribs that made you attempt to fly out from under your imprisonment.
“PETEHEHER!” You squeaked, sliding further down despite yourself, trying to twist away to no avail. “P-PLEHEASE!”
“Please what?” He teased, scratching just two fingers at the centre of your underarm, laughing breathily at how you squealed and tugged against him. “Hey, you never answered the question.”
“IHI’M NOT TELLIHING YOU!”
He paused, fingers still poised to strike. “Why not?”
“Because this’ll get wohorse,” you coughed.
“Oho…” Peter’s smirking laugh made your stomach flip. “Ohoho…” He ducked his head around to look at your blushing cheeks. “I was talking about the first kiss,” panic struck your chest as he lowered his voice to just above a whisper and said, “but now you have me very intrigued.”
“W-wait. No. No Peter, I-”
“I mean, I thought this had to be it,” he scoffed and resumed tickling at your underarm with all five fingers. Cackling laughter burst through your lips, your eyes shutting tight once again as you submitted to your fate. You were stuck, there was no fighting back. That was, until he released your free wrist in favour of hunting down your most ticklish spot. “You gonna tell me?” He teased over your squeaks and cackles. “Seriously, if you don’t tell me, I’m going to have to find it myself,” he sighed sarcastically as you shook your head, indicating even if you had the ability to form sentences right now, no way in hell were giving him that sort of information. “Thankfully… you and I, we’re scientists. We’re good at experiments.”
“PARKER!” You managed to yell, pulling on your legs still trapped in his.
“So, let’s see…” With one hand stilled at your underarm, his other hand clawed into the side of your stomach. You lurched and barked out a laugh, your free hand wrapping around his attacking fingers. No sooner had you done so, he dug his wiggling fingers back in under your arm. You shrieked, burst into belly-laughter, and abandoned his stilled hand to fight off this new attack. “Hmm, interesting,” he mused. There was a shit-eating grin evident in his voice. Then, his plan sunk in: he was going to force your hand to reveal what was most unbearable. And so he did.
When you swatted at the attack under your arm, he turned the side of your ribs into his target. When you squealed and tried to crush your elbow against his hand, he shook his fingers into the same spot on the other side of your body - the one with the arm still stuck above your head. “Very interesting…” He laughed along with you as you twisted in vain, trying to hit at both hands at once. You sniffled and whined through the laughter bursting through your chest, reacting too hard to form a cohesive sentence.
“NAHAHA, I cahan’t- P-PE- NAA!” You tried to dampen your shrieks, but he was too damn good at this. After a particularly hard hit at the fingers drilling into the uppermost ribs exposed by your pinned arm, and a particularly loud shriek, you begged with just his name. “P-Pehehe… Peter!” You gasped, and he backed off.
“Answer the question,” he sang, shifting his fingers down to ready themselves at your sides should you choose to refuse. Despite the fact that he was removing all the air from your lungs, you couldn’t deny the fun of it all. It’s not like you got physical touch all that often, and certainly nothing as playful as this.
Your brief reverie was ended by Peter deciding you’d waited too long to answer, and him declaring this by digging his fingers into the sides of your stomach.
You screeched, hitting your hand at both of his while the laughter was once again forced through you. “I’m gonnaha GEHET YOHOU FOR THIHIS- EEP!” You squeaked, high-pitched giggles weakening you further as he skittered his fingers all around the sensitive patch in the very centre of your belly.
“More threats?” He gasped, taking your free wrist in one hand and pulling it away from where you were interfering with his current target. “Youhou just never learn, do you?” You giggled and squeaked as he made use of his unobstructed movement, alternating between prodding and scratching at the skin. “Now, that’s adorable,” he teased, moving his fingers closer to the centre to ghost along the exposed skin below your navel. Your giggles hitched up and you tugged on both of your trapped wrists, obviously trying to form some kind of words but failing miserably. Sensing this, Peter chuckled and halted. “How about now?”
You took the moment to catch your breath, resigning yourself to the reality that you’d have to disclose your secret to save yourself from him hunting down every ticklish place on your body. “Okay okay okahay...” You coughed. “Youhou… you win. Unweb me, and I’ll tehell you. But you ha-.”
“Shh!” His hand flew to your mouth and you both sat dead still. His head turned towards the hallway, his hyperaware senses alerting him to an impending visitor. “Dana’s coming,” he whispered, reaching up and ripping the webbing from your wrist before shoving it behind his back. “Tell me now or you’re getting it when she’s gone,” he grinned beside your ear as your limp arm toppled to your side.
“I hate you,” you mumbled and sighed, beginning to pull against his legs again. “Around my hip area. Like, if someone squeezes at the sides and stuff,” you admitted, blushing profusely. “Now, let me go before Dana thinks this is something else.”
“Well…” he started, wrapping his arms a little tighter around your waist. Your heart beat in your chest, hearing that cheeky lilt in his tone. “Isn’t that exactly what we need?”
“Peter, no-”
“Peter, yes.”
“Don’t you dare, Parker. I swear I’ll- nahAHA WAHAIT!”
He dug his fingers into your ribcage, attacking the place where your back met your sides with a pinpoint precision, just as there was a knock on the door. He ducked down to whisper, “This’ll sell it,” before he lifted his head and called “Come in!”
“Peheter nohoho, dohon’t lehet- AH!” You squeaked again and collapsed your head against his chest in defeat as he picked up the pace, slowly travelling one hand down your side with every few digs and squeezes. “Dahana hehelp!” You begged, tears of mirth forming above your flushed and grinning cheeks.
“So this is why you weren’t answering my messages,” she playfully glared.
“I-I’m sorry,” Peter sighed sarcastically. “I really am - you know, for distracting her like this, she just- woah, careful there!” He tugged you a little higher, both hands now dangerously close to your hips. “As I was saying… sometimes, when she won’t stop studying, I have to resort to drastic measures to get her to stop.”
Dana raised an amused eyebrow at your demise under Peter’s fingers and rolled her eyes with an endeared smile. “We get it - two are super cute together. Should I come back later?”
“Dohon’t leave me- PETER!” You squeaked louder and gripped at his wrists, trying to push his hands off course to no avail. “Pehete, PLEASE!”
“I’ll come back.”
“DANA!”
“Sorry, Dana,” Peter stopped his hands, allowing you to catch your breath. “It’s the sworn duty of a boyfriend to enact tickle torture in times like this.”
“That’s fair,” she shrugged. You shot her a death glare from behind disheveled hard.
“Okahay,” you panted. “I’ll stop for tonight, just- no mohore… please.” You gulped the air in, chest heaving with the exertion from bearing the brunt of Peter’s playfulness. He turned his head to grin down at you, you looked up at him with a glare that was betrayed by a smile you couldn’t hold back. You couldn’t hold back your blush either, or the way that you weren’t really trying hard to escape his arms.
“Ugh, you guys are sickeningly adorable,” Dana rolled her eyes and went to leave the room. “Seriously, the way you two look at each other… anyway - are we still on for tomorrow night?”
“Yeheah,” you coughed, then grumbled, “If I’m still alive.”
“I’ll keep her in one piece,” Peter promised as Dana grinned and shut the door.
You continued to catch your breath, taking the chance to swat at his leg with your now-freed hand. “Peter!” You scolded. “That was so embarrassing,” you coughed again, and found yourself subconsciously settling into his arms before remembering what you were doing. “Alright, we can stop studying now.” When you tried sitting up, his arm around you didn’t relent. “Peter.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper as he grimaced and said, “I have to try.”
“Huh?”
“The spot, I have to try the spot,” he whispered again and you felt him shrug apologetically.
Your eyes widened, you shook your head, whipping it around to look up at him as you giggled nervously, “No. Peheter you’ve done enough!”
“I-I’m sorry, but it’s necessary and-”
“It is not necessary, you just-”
“I mean, you can’t just tell me about it and then not-”
“You forced me to tell you! Peter!” You continued struggling as he shrugged again and started leaning sideways with you still in his arms. “Peter, plehease,” you pushed at his hands and squeaked when he turned himself to be partially pinning you face-down with his own body. “PETER?!” You held tight to his wrists as he started pulling one away, already giggling hysterically and groaning at the situation you’ve found yourself in. As he pulled his hand away slowly, but with very little effort, you realised there was no stopping him. The best you could do was to ask him to go easy on you. “Okay- OKAY, WAIT!”
He paused with his hand about to strike at your hip, his legs tangling tighter around yours as you squirmed in anticipation. “Yes?” He taunted in a sing-song voice.
“Okay,” you breathed out. “I’ll let you try, but- hey, don’t laugh at me!” You swatted at his shoulder behind you and tried to glower up at him.
“Oh, you’ll let me,” he laughed with a sarcastic edge. “That’s what this is - you calling the shots.”
“You have to let me tickle you too.”
“Sure.”
You hadn’t expected him to agree, which threw you for a loop. Just as you opened your mouth to stammer and come up with some kind of bargain for him to ease his torment, his fingers squeezed harshly around your hip and began digging into the susceptible place next to the bone.
Your face flew straight into the pillow close to your head so you could muffle the volume of your scream of ticklish ferocity. Your whole body flew into fight and flight, tensing and twitching and thrashing against the way Peter had locked you in his arms between him and your bed. After a gasp for air, you fell into silent laughter as you continued to writhe against him and his kneading fingers pressing and wiggling against your hipbone. You spluttered and gasped for air, the laughter trapped in your chest as the tears of mirth spilled over onto the pillow. When he backed off a little, only to flutter his fingers at the space on your stomach just above your hipbone, you pressed your face back into the pillow to muffle some of the boisterous laughter he was drawing from you. Your twitching and spluttering soon overcame your laughter and coherent struggling, so he stopped his tickling and laughed brightly near your ear, giving you a squeeze with his arms before slowly snaking them away from you. He laughed again when he saw how limp you’d gone, making some kind of comment about how dramatic you were, and how he’d gone easy on you.
It took you a solid half-minute to catch your breath and work up the courage to glare up at him. “You’re an ass,” you seethed, gritting your teeth in an effort to hide your smile.
“Ah, but,” he held up a finger with a cheeky smile, “We’ve certainly convinced Dana. Which means… we can stop studying.”
You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself up to sit, propped up on your hands behind you. “Well I’m not gonna argue with you,” you mumbled with a blush before casting a glance to your laptop. “I have some notes I wanna catch up on anyway so-”
He cut you off with a firm hand on the forearm you’d reached towards your computer, and a hesitant shake of his head. “When’s the last time you did something fun?”
“What d‘you mean? I have fun all the time.”
“No, I mean when‘s the last time your Friday night wasn’t spent studying?”
You sighed and looked away, knowing where this was going. “I find it very fun to keep my scholarship,” you said, and you two almost instantly traded unimpressed looks. There was no pretending it wasn’t a lame excuse.
“We’re going out,” he announced, letting go of your arm and standing up from your bed. “Let’s go.”
“Where?!”
“Anywhere but here, or the library, or the cafeteria,” he said with a somewhat worried, exasperated look. “You’re in desperate need of a break.”
You sighed with a scoff, “Peter, come on, I-”
“I’ll be right outside the door,” he stated, pulling his jacket on. “Get changed. If you’re not out there in five minutes, so help me-“ He chuckled incredulously, balling his hands into fists just below his chin before shooting them open for emphasis. “-I will hang you from the ceiling and tickle you so hard.”
Some noise between a scoff, a squeak and a whimper burst through your lips, bringing a grin to Peter’s cheeks. He slid on his beta web-shooter and wiggled his fingers at you before shutting the door to your room and waiting outside.
You silently laughed and shook your head at the ridiculousness of it all, sliding off your bed and replacing your long-sleeved shirt and leggings for some jeans and a nicer crew-neck. As you tied the laces of your shoes, you found yourself smiling, blushing, maybe more grateful for Peter than you ever realised you’d be. Sure, he was convenient, the perfect excuse for studying way too hard, but maybe he was what you needed in more ways than just a fake boyfriend.
You opened the door to your dorm as you slid your other arm into your jacket and snuggled it over your sweatshirt, giving Peter a smile that you wanted to look annoyed and fake, but you were pretty sure it just looked shy and endeared. He smiled back and when you turned around from locking your door he took your hand and laced his fingers through yours.
In a split second, you fought your gasp and your face morphed from surprise into sheepishness. “Right,” you laughed. “Gotta keep up appearances.”
“Yeah. Right,” Peter smiled, softer than before, and nodded. After a few seconds of hesitation, he pulled himself back to the moment and smiled wider. “Let’s go.”
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awardseason · 2 years
Text
53rd NAACP Image Awards — Winners
Entertainer of the Year Jennifer Hudson — WINNER Lil Nas X Megan Thee Stallion Regina King Tiffany Haddish
MOTION PICTURE
Outstanding Motion Picture Judas and the Black Messiah King Richard Respect The Harder They Fall — WINNER The United States vs. Billie Holiday
Outstanding Actor in a Motion Picture Denzel Washington, The Tragedy of Macbeth Jonathan Majors, The Harder They Fall LaKeith Stanfield, Judas and the Black Messiah Mahershala Ali, Swan Song Will Smith, King Richard — WINNER
Outstanding Actress in a Motion Picture Andra Day, The United States vs. Billie Holiday Halle Berry, Bruised Jennifer Hudson, Respect — WINNER Tessa Thompson, Passing Zendaya, Malcolm & Marie
Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Motion Picture Algee Smith, Judas and the Black Messiah Daniel Kaluuya, Judas and the Black Messiah — WINNER Delroy Lindo, The Harder They Fall Idris Elba, The Harder They Fall LaKeith Stanfield, The Harder They Fall
Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Motion Picture Aunjanue Ellis, King Richard Audra McDonald, Respect Danielle Deadwyler, The Harder They Fall Dominique Fishback, Judas and the Black Messiah Regina King, The Harder They Fall — WINNER
Outstanding Breakthrough Performance in a Motion Picture Ariana DeBose, West Side Story Danny Boyd, Jr., Bruised — WINNER Jalon Christian, A Journal For Jordan Lonnie Chavis, The Water Man Sheila Atim, Bruised
Outstanding Ensemble Cast in a Motion Picture Coming 2 America Judas and the Black Messiah King Richard Respect The Harder They Fall — WINNER
Outstanding Independent Motion Picture American Skin Bruised CODA — WINNER Test Pattern The Killing of Kenneth Chamberlain
Outstanding International Motion Picture 7 Prisoners — WINNER African America Eyimofe (This is My Desire) Flee The Gravedigger's Wife
Outstanding Animated Motion Picture Encanto — WINNER Luca Raya and the Last Dragon Sing 2 Vivo
Outstanding Documentary (Film) Attica Barbara Lee: Speaking Truth to Power — WINNER My Name Is Pauli Murray Summer of Soul (...Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised) Tina
Outstanding Directing in a Motion Picture Denzel Washington - A Journal for Jordan Jeymes Samuel - The Harder They Fall Lin-Manuel Miranda - tick tick...BOOM! Reinaldo Marcus Green - King Richard Shaka King - Judas and the Black Messiah — WINNER
Outstanding Directing in a Documentary (Television or Motion Picture) Andre Gaines - The One and Only Dick Gregory Dawn Porter - Rise Again: Tulsa and the Red Summer Sam Pollard - MLK/FBI Samantha Knowles, Yoruba Richen, Geeta Gandbhir, Nadia Hallgren - Black and Missing — WINNER Spike Lee - NYC Epicenters 9/11➔2021½
Outstanding Writing in a Motion Picture Janicza Bravo, Jeremy O. Harris - Zola Jeymes Samuel, Boaz Yakin - The Harder They Fall Shaka King, Will Berson, Kenny Lucas, Keith Lucas - Judas and the Black Messiah — WINNER Virgil Williams - A Journal for Jordan Win Rosenfeld, Nia DaCosta, Jordan Peele - Candyman
Outstanding Soundtrack/Compilation Album Coming 2 America (Amazon Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) - Eddie Murphy, Craig Brewer, Kevin Misher,  Randy Spendlove, Jeff Harleston, Brittney Ramsdell Judas and the Black Messiah (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) - Mark Isham and Craig Harris Respect (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) - Jason Michael Webb and Stephen Bray The Harder They Fall (The Motion Picture Soundtrack) - JAY-Z and Jeymes Samuel — WINNER The United States vs. Billie Holiday (Music from the Motion Picture) - Salaam Remi, Andra Day, Raphael Saadiq, Warren “E” Felder, Downtown Trevor Brown
Outstanding Character Voice-Over Performance - Motion Picture Andre Braugher, Spirit Untamed Awkwafina, Raya and the Last Dragon Brian Tyree Henry, Vivo Eric André, Sing 2 Letitia Wright, Sing 2 — WINNER
Outstanding Short-Form (Live Action) Aurinko in Adagio Blackout The Ice Cream Stop These Final Hours When The Sun Sets (Lakutshon' Ilanga) ← WINNER
Outstanding Short-Form (Animated) Blush Robin Robin She Dreams at Sunrise Twenty Something Us Again — WINNER
Outstanding Breakthrough Creative (Motion Picture) Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson, Summer Of Soul (...Or, When The Revolution Could Not Be Televised) Jamila Wignot, Ailey Jeymes Samuel, The Harder They Fall — WINNER Liesl Tommy, Respect Rebecca Hall, Passing
TELEVISION + STREAMING CATEGORIES
Outstanding Comedy Series black-ish Harlem Insecure — WINNER Run the World The Upshaws
Outstanding Actor in a Comedy Series Anthony Anderson, black-ish — WINNER Cedric the Entertainer, The Neighborhood Don Cheadle, Black Monday Elisha 'EJ' Williams, The Wonder Years Jay Ellis, Insecure
Outstanding Actress in a Comedy Series Issa Rae, Insecure — WINNER Loretta Devine, Family Reunion Regina Hall, Black Monday Tracee Ellis Ross, black-ish Yvonne Orji, Insecure
Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Comedy Series Andre Braugher - Brooklyn Nine-Nine (NBC) Deon Cole, black-ish — WINNER Kenan Thompson - Saturday Night Live (NBC) Kendrick Sampson, Insecure Laurence Fishburne, black-ish
Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series Amanda Seales, Insecure Jenifer Lewis, black-ish Marsai Martin, black-ish Natasha Rothwell, Insecure — WINNER Wanda Sykes, The Upshaws
Outstanding Drama Series 9-1-1 All American Godfather of Harlem Pose Queen Sugar — WINNER
Outstanding Actor in a Drama Series Billy Porter, Pose Damson Idris, Snowfall Forest Whitaker, Godfather of Harlem Kofi Siriboe, Queen Sugar Sterling K. Brown, This is Us — WINNER
Outstanding Actress in a Drama Series Angela Bassett, 9-1-1 — WINNER Dawn-Lyen Gardner, Queen Sugar Octavia Spencer, Truth Be Told Queen Latifah, The Equalizer Rutina Wesley, Queen Sugar
Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Drama Series Alex R. Hibbert, The Chi Cliff “Method Man” Smith, Power Book II: Ghost — WINNER Daniel Ezra, All American Giancarlo Esposito, Godfather of Harlem Joe Morton, Our Kind of People
Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Drama Series Alfre Woodard, SEE Bianca Lawson, Queen Sugar Chandra Wilson, Grey's Anatomy Mary J. Blige, Power Book II: Ghost — WINNER Susan Kelechi Watson, This is Us
Outstanding Television Movie, Limited-Series or Dramatic Special Colin in Black & White — WINNER Genius: Aretha Love Life Robin Roberts Presents: Mahalia The Underground Railroad
Outstanding Actor in a Television Movie, Limited-Series or Dramatic Special Anthony Mackie, Solos Jaden Michael, Colin in Black & White Kevin Har, True Story — WINNER Wesley Snipes, True Story William Jackson Harper, Love Life
Outstanding Actress in a Television Movie, Limited-Series or Dramatic Special Betty Gabriel, Clickbait Cynthia Erivo, Genius: Aretha Danielle Brooks, Robin Roberts Presents: Mahalia Jodie Turner-Smith, Anne Boleyn Taraji P. Henson, Annie Live! — WINNER
Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Television Movie, Limited-Series or Dramatic Special Courtney B. Vance, Genius: Aretha — WINNER Keith David, Black As Night Tituss Burgess, Annie Live! Will Catlett, True Story William Jackson Harper, The Underground Railroad
Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Television Movie, Limited-Series or Dramatic Special Anika Noni Rose, Maid Natasha Rothwell, The White Lotus Pauletta Washington, Genius: Aretha Regina Hall, Nine Perfect Strangers — WINNER Sheila Atim, The Underground Railroad  
Outstanding Documentary (Television) 1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything American Masters: How It Feels to Be Free Blood Brothers: Malcolm X & Muhammad Ali High on the Hog: How African American Cuisine Transformed America — WINNER Insecure Documentary
Outstanding Directing in a Comedy Series Bashir Salahuddin, Diallo Riddle - South Side - "Tornado" — WINNER Melina Matsoukas - Insecure - "Reunited, Okay?!" Neema Barnette - Harlem - "Once Upon A Time in Harlem" Prentice Penny - Insecure - "Everything's Gonna Be, Okay?!" Tiffany Johnson - Black Monday - "Eight!"
Outstanding Directing in a Drama Series Anthony Hemingway - Genius: Aretha "Respect" Barry Jenkins - The Underground Railroad - "Indiana Winter" — WINNER Carl Seaton - Snowfall - "Fight or Flight" Carl Seaton - Godfather of Harlem - "The Bonanno Split" Hanelle Culpepper - True Story - "Like Cain Did Abel"
Outstanding Directing in a Television Movie or Special Jaffar Mahmood - Hot Mess Holiday Kenny Leon - Robin Roberts Presents: Mahalia — WINNER Mario Van Peebles - Salt-N-Pepa Maritte Lee Go - Black As Night Veronica Rodriguez - Let's Get Merried
Outstanding Writing in a Comedy Series Ashley Nicole Black - Ted Lasso - "Do the Right-est Thing" Issa Rae - Insecure -"Everything's Gonna Be, Okay?!" — WINNER Leann Bowen - Ted Lasso - "Lavender" Maya Erskine - Pen15 - "Blue in Green" Temi Wilkey - Sex Education - "Episode #3.6"
Outstanding Writing in a Drama Series Aurin Squire - Evil - "C Is For Cop" Davita Scarlett - The Good Fight - "And the Firm Had Two Partners…" — WINNER Malcolm Spellman - The Falcon and the Winter Soldier - "New World Order" Nkechi Okoro Carroll - All American - "Homecoming" Steven Canals, Janet Mock, Our Lady J, Brad Falchuk, Ryan Murphy - Pose - "Series Finale"
Outstanding Writing in a Television Movie or Special Abdul Williams - Salt-N-Pepa — WINNER Mario Miscione, Marcella Ochoa - Madres Monique N. Matthew - A Holiday In Harlem Sameer Gardezi - Hot Mess Holiday Sherman Payne - Black As Night
Outstanding Variety Show (Series or Special) A Black Lady Sketch Show BET Awards 2021 Dave Chappelle: The Closer Savage X Fenty Show Vol. 3 The Daily Show with Trevor Noah — WINNER
Outstanding Children’s Program Ada Twist, Scientist Family Reunion — WINNER Karma's World Raven’s Home Waffles + Mochi
Outstanding Performance by a Youth (Series, Special, Television Movie or Limited-Series) Alayah "Lay Lay" High, That Girl Lay Lay Celina Smith, Annie Live! Elisha 'EJ' Williams, The Wonder Years Eris Baker, This Is Us Miles Brown, black-ish — WINNER
Outstanding Guest Performance Alani "La La" Anthony, The Chi Christina Elmore, Insecure Daniel Kaluuya, Saturday Night Live Erika Alexander, Run the World Maya Rudolph, Saturday Night Live — WINNER
Outstanding Animated Series Big Mouth Peanut Headz: Black History Toonz Super Sema We The People — WINNER Yasuke
Outstanding Character Voice-Over Performance (Television) Angela Bassett, Malika: The Lion Queen Billy Porter, Fairfax Chris "Ludacris" Bridges, Karma's World Cree Summer, Rugrats — WINNER Keke Palmer, Big Mouth
Outstanding Short Form Series - Comedy or Drama Between the Scenes - The Daily Show — WINNER Dark Humor Della Mae The Disney Launchpad: Shorts Incubator Two Sides: Unfaithful
Outstanding Breakthrough Creative (Television) Angel Kristi Williams, Colin in Black & White — WINNER Cierra Glaude, Queen Sugar Deborah Riley Draper, The Legacy of Black Wall Street Halcyon Person, Karma's World Quyen Tran, Maid
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brewedlove · 3 years
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Random Things I Associate with the Horimiya Characters
(Click the pictures for better quality).
UPDATED A/N: If you recognize this piece on a different blog under the name @iwritesinsandsins it’s because Tumblr silenced all my posts there so I’m starting over again. (/ˍ・、)
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Izumi Miyamura
The deep bitter smell of coffee but actually sweet to taste.
Having nostalgic flashbacks to your childhood.
The routine of watering your plants in the morning.
Gradually adding tattoos and piercings to your body.
Black nail polish.
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Kyoko Hori
Using a weighted blanket in the winter.
Playing tetherball with friends.
Giving your loved one the better looking portion of food and giving yourself the “bad” one.
The first clean slice from using a freshly sharpened knife.
The water that’s above the rim but doesn’t spill over.
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Toru Ishikawa
The thrilling feeling of remembering a vivid dream you had when you wake up.
Being on a sports team.
Love at first sight.
Wearing a perfectly fitting pair of pants.
Hitting that one note in a song you didn’t know you could.
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Yuki Yoshikawa
The voice messages inside a Build-a-Bear.
Feeling accomplished after making a phone call.
The crackling of Pop Rocks candy in your mouth.
Binge-watching a whole show in a week or less.
Finally seeing someone after missing them for a while.
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Kakeru Sengoku
Books written in a foreign language that you can’t understand.
The rich sounds of music being played on a vinyl record player.
The satisfied feeling of acing a test you studied hard for.
Knowing exactly what you’re going to say when ordering.
The clean fresh look of a new haircut.
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Remi Ayasaki
The fluffiness of cotton candy.
Blowing dandelion seeds and watching them fly in the air.
Wishing you had a Tamagotchi again.
Making friendship bracelets.
Understanding others’ inside jokes while everyone else is confused.
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Sakura Kono
Faint chirping of birds in the distance at 04:00.
Laying down on freshly cleaned bedsheets.
Making organized aesthetically pleasing journals.
Tasting freshly grown vegetables from your garden.
The feeling of a new beginning once the snow melts and slowly becomes spring.
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Syu Iura
Being able to wearing your friends’ hoodies/sweaters.
Appreciating freckles and beauty marks.
Holographic nail polish.
Discovering a new song and playing it on repeat.
Playing cookie-clicker games.
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Akane Yanagi
Quiet stolen glances from across the room with your crush.
Reading handwritten love letters.
Cuticle care.
A cup of freshly brewed tea.
Big sturdy trees that provide homes to animals.
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Kouichi Shindo
Purposely wearing mismatching socks.
Screenshotting funny conversations with friends.
Bold colored hair.
Hearing contagious laughter.
Wearing Ring Pops with your significant other.
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Makio Tanihara
Seeing the rain pouring down on one side and the other not being rained on at all from a distance.
That cold first dip into the pool.
Drinking cold water after chewing mint gum.
Music that leaks through your headphones.
Beating the boss level in a video game.
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You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)
Chapter 1
Summary:  As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl's indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé's demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it's too late.
Ships: Logince (Logan x Roman)  Moxiety (Virgil x Patton)
Content Warnings: arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst
Word Count: 2604
Read on AO3: here!
Cowritten with @ironwoman359 masterlist
False masterlist
As the son of the Baron of Falkirk, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement. There was a small part of him that mourned the loss of the chance to meet a beautiful stranger and fall hopelessly in love, like the characters in the fairytales that his nanny read to him as a child. But those fantasies were just that, fairytales. The fanciful whims of a child had no place in Roman’s life now that he had come of age. His marriage was to serve one purpose: to elevate his family. 
And Roman had been training for that purpose his entire life. 
Barely a month had passed since Roman’s twentieth birthday when he was called into his father’s study. He knew that whatever the reason for his summons, it must be important, as his father hated more than anything to be interrupted in his work. Roman knocked twice on the familiar, thick oak doors, and held his breath until he heard his father’s muffled answer from within. 
“Come in.” 
Roman stepped inside, and was surprised to see his mother and older brother already in the room, seated opposite his father’s old mahogany desk. As he entered, his father stood, gesturing to an empty chair that sat beside his mother. 
“Have a seat, son.” 
Roman sat. 
“I have good news,” his father continued. “As you have now reached the proper age, one of my primary interests has been to find an appropriate arrangement for your marriage.” 
Roman’s heartbeat quickened, and he forced himself to remain calm, folding his hands in his lap. This was it. This was the moment that he’d been preparing for nearly all of his life; the moment that would shape his entire future. 
“There were many factors to consider,” his father said, stepping around the desk to stand beside his wife. “It was not an easy decision. However, your mother and I have entered an agreement that we believe will be very profitable, for you and for the family.” 
Roman nodded. His father was a shrewd negotiator; he was sure that, whatever the terms of the engagement were, the Sanders family would not lose more than what it stood to gain. 
“So, you’ve reached a decision then, Father?” he asked, taking a deep breath and willing his expression to remain neutral.
“I have,” his father agreed. “You are to be wed to the Earl of Asberg, Lord Garret Howard. I have just received a message from his footman: they arrived at the Fireside Inn late this afternoon. Tomorrow, they will come to the manor to bring you to Lord Howard’s estate to begin the engagement period.” 
Roman bit back a gasp, his eyes growing wide. 
“Lord Howard?” he repeated. “I was not even aware the earl was looking for a suitor.” 
“For many years, he was not,” Roman’s mother spoke up. “His youth was spent primarily securing the political and financial status of his late father’s estate. Only recently has he turned his attention to more social matters.” 
“Your dowry aside, the connections we will gain through this marriage will be of an immense benefit to us,” said Roman’s father. “I know you know your duty son; I trust you will make us proud.” 
“I will, Father,” Roman said, getting to his feet. His father held out a hand, and Roman shook it firmly, doing his best to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “Thank you.” 
His mother and brother stood as well, and Roman let his mother pull him into a quick hug and plant a kiss on his cheek. 
“Congratulations dear,” she said as she pulled away, a proud smile on her face. “I know you’ll do just wonderfully.” 
“Thank you, Mother,” he said, squeezing her hand, and then his brother was in front of him. 
“Congrats, Ro,” he said quietly. 
“Thanks, Remy,” Roman whispered, and when they shook hands, Roman hoped Remy didn’t notice the slight tremble in his grip. 
“The carriage will arrive at eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” Roman’s father declared. “I’ve already instructed the maids to pack your clothing. Whatever other preparations you need, I suggest you make them now.” 
“I will. Thank you, Father,” Roman said again, bowing his head slightly to his family.
He left the study, walking through the halls of the manor as though walking through a dream. He reached his quarters, and it was only after he shut the door behind him that he realized he very well might never walk the path from the study to his room again. He sat on the edge of his bed, his formal posture falling from his shoulders like a forgotten shawl now that he was alone. 
True to his father’s words, a trunk lay open at the foot of his bed, his shirts and trousers and suits all carefully folded and placed inside by the maid. Another, smaller trunk had been placed beside it, no doubt for Roman to fill with whatever else he wished to bring with him to his fiance’s estate. 
His fiance…
Sun, moon, and stars, he was engaged. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know it was coming; he was the youngest of his parents’ three children, after all. As the oldest son, Remington would inherit the title Baron of Falkirk and all the duties that came with it, while Roman and Remus would be married into other families to increase the Sanders’ political influence. So Roman had always known that he was destined to leave the family manor. 
That didn’t necessarily mean he was ready to. 
He sighed, sweeping his eyes around his room. What would he even take with him? A single evening was hardly enough time for him to consider all that he owned and decide what to bring on a permanent move halfway across the country. Should he bring his books, his star charts, his journals and quills? Or would he be able to find suitable replacements for them all at Lord Howard’s estate? Would he even have time to indulge in his hobbies as the husband of an earl? If only he’d had more than a day’s notice of his departure, then he’d have time to think!
A light knock on the door pulled Roman from his thoughts, and he straightened instantly. 
“Who is it?” he called. 
“It’s me, Roman,” came the answer, and Roman relaxed at the sound of his brother’s voice. 
“Come on in, Rem.” 
Remy stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and giving Roman what was probably meant to be a smile, but came out more like a grimace. 
“So, it’s finally time,” he said, and Roman rolled his eyes. 
“No need to sound like I’m on my deathbed, Remy. It’s just an engagement, we all knew this was coming.” 
“Yeah, yeah,” Remy sighed, plopping down on the bed next to Roman and leaning back against the headboard. “Still...I had sort of hoped you’d end up somewhere decently close by. Gremont, for instance, I know Lady Lishan has a daughter who’s eligible. Or maybe Ravenhold. Then you could at least visit. Asberg is…” 
“Far,” Roman agreed. 
He’d been trying not to think about it. Asberg was at least four days away by carriage, maybe longer depending on the weather, and Roman had never been so far away from home unaccompanied in his life. 
“Hey though, the wedding’s only six months away. I’ll get to see you then! And who knows, maybe I’ll be able to come visit for the harvest festival next year...or you could come visit me!” 
“Only if you serve coffee,” Remy joked, and Roman laughed, the tension in the room easing just a bit. 
“Help me pack?” Roman asked. “I can’t figure out if I should bring everything or nothing.”
“Hmm…” Remy sat up and scanned the room. “My advice? Bring only what you think you can’t live without.”
Roman hesitated, then looked up at his brother. 
“You?” he suggested. He tried to shoot Remy a playful smirk, but he could feel the corners of his mouth wobbling, and he knew from the sad smile on his brother’s face that Remy didn’t buy it. 
“I wish, Ro-bro,” Remy said, nudging their shoulders together. “But I think one son running away from home is enough of a scandal for Father to deal with.”
“That’s fair, I suppose,” Roman said, looking down and fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “What...what do you think Remus would say? If he were here to see me off?”
“Honestly?” Remy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then snorted. “He wouldn’t say anything, he’d just lock you in the bedroom and throw away the key to make you stay. Or kidnap you and hide you somewhere so that the wedding had to be cancelled altogether.” 
“You’re probably right,” Roman said. He chuckled, but the laugh felt hollow, like a piece of it was missing...gone forever and irreplaceable, just like his brother. “Did...did I ever tell you that he came to see me, the night he left?” he asked quietly. 
“No,” Remy answered. “But I had a feeling that he did.” 
“He asked me to go with him,” Roman said. “To leave you and Mother and Father and everything we’d ever known, to go chasing ‘freedom’ and ‘adventure,’ like we were children again.” He shook his head, closing his fingers into fists. “I told him I couldn’t.”
“I think he knew that,” Remy said. “But I...I also think he felt he had to at least ask you for himself. I don’t think he’d really believe that you wanted to stay unless he heard you say it.” 
“And I did want to stay,” Roman insisted. “I begged him to stay. But he wouldn’t listen, and he left, and now it’s been three years and I have to leave you and Mother and Father and everything I’ve ever known anyway, except now I’ll be alone.” Roman looked up at Remy, his eyes shining with un-shed tears. “What if...what if I made the wrong choice?” 
Remy pulled him closer, hooking his chin over Roman’s head like he did when they were small and Roman would trip in the garden and scrape his knee. 
“I can’t answer that for you, Ro-bro,” he murmured. “That’s something you have to figure out. But for what it’s worth...I’m glad you stayed. It- it would have been even harder, I think, to lose both of you.” 
“You’re losing me now,” Roman whispered, but Remy shook his head. 
“No,” he said vehemently. “I’m not. You said it yourself, Roman, the wedding’s only in six months. And Asberg may be far, but it’s not like it's across the ocean or anything. We’ll still be able to see each other once in a while. Remus…” Remy sighed, and tightened his grip around Roman’s shoulders. “Remus left us for himself. You’re leaving us for the family. That’s the difference.” 
“Yeah...I know,” Roman said, sniffling a little and nestling deeper into his brother’s hold. “I’m still gonna miss you though.” 
“I’ll miss you too, Ro-bro,” Remy said, dropping a kiss into Roman’s hair. “I’ll miss you too.”
Remy eventually left Roman to pack, and the rest of the night passed in a blur. Roman finally decided what to bring with him (his used notebooks and journals, his collection of star charts, and an old cloak that the maid hadn’t packed because it was torn, but that Roman couldn’t bear to part with) and what to leave behind (unused sketchbooks, his set of inks and quills, and the ancient paint set that he hadn’t touched in almost a year), but when he lay down to try and get some rest, sleep evaded him. He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to stop his thoughts from racing. Morning arrived far too soon for his liking, and before he’d really processed what was happening, he was standing at the bottom of the front steps of the manor with his family, waiting for the carriage to arrive. 
"Now Roman, remember," his father said, and Roman looked up at him. "Lord Howard oversees an estate far larger than our own. Whatever duties you are expected to perform, they will be on a scale far greater than what you are accustomed to here."
"He may look to you to aid him in business, but he may also expect you to oversee more of the social obligations. He has dealings with many different families, after all," Roman's mother added, and Roman nodded.
"Politics is never just about numbers," he recited, and his father's lips twitched in a small smile.
"That's right, son. Remember all that we've taught you, and you'll do fine."
A carriage pulled in at the end of the manor's drive, and Roman took a deep breath.
"Remember to write!" his mother said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and giving his shoulder a squeeze. 
Roman placed a hand over hers, then shot Remy a lopsided smile.
"Any last words for me, Rem?"
Remy smirked, and ruffled Roman's hair.
"If you let Earlship go to your head, I’ll cut you out of the estate when I take over."
"Honestly, Remington," their mother said, rolling her eyes, and Remy winked at Roman.
The carriage reached them then, and Roman quickly moved to fix his hair. A footman hopped down from a seat on the rear, and bowed to Roman's father.
"Good morning," he said as he straightened. "I come on behalf of my Lord Garret Howard, Earl of Asberg, to deliver a dowry payment to Lord Phillip Sanders, Baron of Falkirk, and to collect his lordship's fiance, Lord Roman Sanders."
"Thank you, sir," said Roman's father, nodding to the footman. "Our family is honored by this union. May I present my son, Roman."
Roman inclined his head to the servant, who bowed again, quick and low.
"A pleasure, my lord. Allow me to gather your things."
Roman's luggage was loaded onto the back of the carriage, and Roman tried not to think about the large trunk that was unloaded and left at his father's feet. He hadn't been told the amount of his dowry, and he didn't want to know. For some reason, it made him feel strange to think about money being given to his family in return for his hand; it made it seem more like he'd been bought, when that wasn't the case! 
“Well,” he said when everything was ready to go. “I guess this is it.” 
“Safe journey, son,” his father said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Make us proud.”
Roman swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He gave his family as strong a smile as he could muster, then he stepped into the carriage and the footman closed the door behind him. Roman drew the curtains back from the window and peered behind them as the carriage pulled away from his home. Remy and his mother were both waving, and even his father raised his hand briefly in farewell. Roman watched them grow smaller and smaller, and then the carriage turned out of the grounds and he couldn’t see them anymore. The manor that had been his entire world for the past twenty years shrank into the distance, until it was nothing but a speck on the horizon. 
Roman finally turned around so he was facing the direction the carriage was traveling. His father’s words echoed in his mind, and he took a deep breath. 
Don’t worry, father, he thought. I’ll make you proud. I’ll make our whole family proud.
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edupunkn00b · 3 years
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My Heart is On My Sleeve and my Fics are on AO3
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AO3 | Honesty Hour | Logan’s Master Schedule | Art
Current Stories:
🩵💚Villains Aren't Born. They're Made.: Intruality ancient deity AU
💙💚Meus ex Machina: Intrulogical Superpower AU for @sandersidesbigbang Chapter 8: Reaching, is also now up on AO3!
🩵💙Where the Air is Sweet: a month of short and sweet Logicality fluff
Increasingly Inaccurately Named Coming Soon List:
Thrall - The conclusion of the vampire/werewolf Beside Me universe, takes place immediately after Ours and Dee
Just Like Magic - Endgame QPP Mage Loceit and more
Echoes of Our Future - Platonic (?) Intrulogical, canon(ish)verse, part of Echoes of the Past October writing event
Recently Completed Stories:
Mise Out of Place: The Patton and Remus Cooking Show we knew we all wanted. Keep the fire extinguisher handy, Virge.
Decoherence: Intrulogical human AU for @tss-storytime
A Light in the Darkness - Magical AU, Logan-centric, Will o' the wisps
Ours, a Royality Week story set in the same universe as Beside Me, Dee, and the upcoming Thrall.
The Uses of Adversity - Logince butterfly story from the Happily Ever After universe in which Janus met Remus at Jack's party. He never walked home alone and never became friends with Logan.
Overruled - Butterfly story from the Happily Ever After universe in which Logan never met Kelly. He does, however, meet Janus and Remus
Recent One-shots:
You'll Ruin the Surprise - (Good Omens)
Time Travelers Point and Laugh at Archeologists - Intruanalogical "modern" magic AU
Lucas Is a Part of You That Loves You - canonverse Orange!side
A Winter's Tale- Intrulogical human AU
Cold Hands, Warm Heart - Remy/Janus canonverse fluff
The Tutor, Intrulogical high school AU
Recent multi-chap fics:
French Kiss: Tale of the Revolution - Dukeceit. What happens when a revolutionary spy falls in love with the future King of France? What happens when Prince Remus loves him back
Arizona's Journal - Select entries from Arizona Tate's journal while Remus worked in Copenhagen. Takes place between And I Feel Fine and Happily Every After
Everyone Leaves - Canonverse collab. with @lost-in-thought-20
Do Androids Dream of Electric Jam? - Intrulogical, Roceit, Future Dystopia
Variations on a Sin - Intrulogical Week story, prequel to Play Us a Song
Just Like Magic - Magic AU, platonic Loceit (WIP)
Revisions, A New Year Old Tropes Event Story
Out of the Machine, Superheroes, Villains, and Vigilantes
Dee - Sequel to Beside Me
Punks, Poets, Parents Human AU, punk!Remus
Smoke, Snakes, and Soulmates - collab. with @typically-untypical, @vexelore, and @thecrowslullaby for @treeni
A Little Bit of Love (Wouldn’t Do Us Any Harm) - part of the Side by Side in the Mindscape canon-ish series (Masterpost)
Matchr, the final story in the History | Matchr series
Play Us A Song (Human AU, Logince, past Intrulogical) - [ AO3 ]
Side by Side in the Mindscape - Includes Shackled, Servatis (a) Curiositas (Saving Curiosity), Intrusive Truths, To the First and the Last , and entire Overture - Canon-ish Sanders Sides Fan Fic, Post-POF/Post WTIT  ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷 
The Happily Ever After/Logan, Janus, Roman, Remus series
Happily Ever After (T)- Logan Sanders thought he had secured a fairy tale ending when he married Kelly Croft, mother to his first child. Perhaps Logan should have spent less time in the non-fiction sections and more time reading actual fairy tales. (2019 - 2021)
Objections (M)- Janus and Logan meet in law school. Logan and Roman meet. Janus and Roman meet. Janus and Remus meet. Buckle up, it's a bumpy ride. (2001 - 2003)
And I Feel Fine (T)- 12/21/12 was supposed to be the end of the world. Roman and Remus Prince, Janus Pater, and Logan Croft will soon find out what this year has in store for them. (2012)
What Might Have Been (M) - The butterfly effect gets all the press, those tiny little changes that ripple through time. It’s easy to forget that the big decisions matter, too. (2021 - 2023)
Other Series
Play Us A Song (Human AU, Logince, past Intrulogical) - [ AO3 ]
Beside Me (Vampire AU, Dukexiety, ...?) - [ AO3 ]
History | Matchr (Human AU, future Intrulogical, Roceit, past Dukeceit), including Matchr, the final story in the series
Side by Side in the Mindscape - Includes Shackled, Servatis (a) Curiositas (Saving Curiosity), Intrusive Truths, To the First and the Last , and entire Overture - Canon-ish Sanders Sides Fan Fic, Post-POF/Post WTIT  ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷 
Butterfly Stories - Overruled (Alternate to Objections) (WIP)
Remy & Emile - Happily’s Remile needed their own fic
Shorts and One-Shots, Event Series
Happily Ever After Minis (Series) - Intrulogical and Roceit, post Happily Ever After and/or post Happily Ever After/WMHB
Blink and You’ll Miss It - Nicomas/Karrot Kings
Analogical Week 2021 Series - Some fluffy platonic Analogical
May Flowers Event 2021 - Fluffy & angsty ship stories (WIP)
Holiday Stories
3.14159265 ... - Pie-based Pi Day Celebration with a fluffy crust
The Sides Celebrate Hanukkah - platonic DRLAMPT
Fear Response - Halloween exchange fic, rated G, shapeshifter AU
Anything - Halloween exchange fic, rated M, human/magic AU
Doctor Who/Sanders Sides Crossovers
The Best of Humanity -The Doctor must find a way to save humanity from its greatest threat. Hint: humanity’s greatest threat isn’t off-planet. #you dear sir are a timelord
More Time With You - (WIP) - A soulmate crossover AU between Sanders Sides and Doctor Who. Yes, that escalated quickly. Sides are Souls.
Run - The Heart Breaker I Can’t Make Myself Delete: This was originally meant to be the last chapter of More Time With You
Some of my favorite stories from the series that I like to call out:
Rain - Intrulogical, post Happily Ever After/WMHB
A Thousand Years and a Thousand Scars - Intrulogical, post Happily Ever After (Angst & Fluff)
Morning Coffee and Kisses - Intrulogical, post Happily Ever After/WMHB
Arizona's Journal (WIP)
This link is a little finicky: Tumblr Archive
Side Blogs
(As in, my other Tumblrs, not blogs for the Sides but OML don't get me started...) I've hit max links, so just the names.
edupunkbitch - (vent blog. i swear, rouse the rabble, whine, rant, and complain)
intrulogialweek - my passion :D
intrualityweek - the passion I didn't know I had
laboratorysoundsystem - Logan's lab has a sound system that plays Spotify near non-stop
eduwrites - nothing there yet... working on it
loganslaboratory - a place for my infrequent visual art experiments
saviorofdandysuits - Good Omens side blog
doctorthembo - Doctor Who side blog
captains-scribe - Our Flag Means Death side blog
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marthafrankiegreen · 2 years
Text
2002 mots
J'ai écouté avec le casque mis à disposition au Casino de Carhaix-Plouguer un mercredi après-midi La Puissance Bienvenue
Retrouver le moment exact où l'on s'est perdu Soulever les mouvements intacts ou prétendus On va de cercle en cercle
C'est mon premier achat en euros en janvier 2002 l'album De cercle en cercle de Mass Hysteria
J'ai l'affiche dans ma chambre d'internat avec le cosmonaute au milieu d'autres affiches de Kurt Cobain ou Marilyn Manson Mes camarades de chambre (au nombre de trois je ne les connaissais pas au début de l'année) ont des posters de Josh Hartnett et Ben Affleck ce genre de beaux gosses
Elles aiment le cinéma et des séries que je n'ai jamais vues
Quelque chose ne colle pas je les aime bien, elles sont très drôles mais je ne suis pas sûre d'être à ma place dans ce groupe et d'ailleurs, je sais bien qu'elles complotent un peu dans mon dos parfois mais ce n'est pas trop grave je ne leur en veux pas je fais ma vie
J'ai quatorze ans je suis minus pas très jolie
Je fais ma vie
Lundi matin en allant prendre le car The Boy m'a fait la bise J'avais mis du gloss aux fruits rouges
Il a les cheveux mi-longs mi-longs et châtains ses yeux sont noisette et son teint caramel beurre salé Il porte une veste en velours marron aussi Ses cheveux sont un peu gras comme ceux de tout le monde (bref) Lorsqu'il m'a fait la bise une mèche de ses cheveux s'est collée sur ma bouche glossée aux fruits rouges Dégueulasse
Je me suis trouvée dégueulasse j'ai retiré ce maquillage dégueulasse et je n'en ai plus jamais remis
Le soir après l'heure d'étude obligatoire je descends les marches il y en a quatre ou cinq je crois qui mènent à la salle d'allemand (je ne vais jamais dans cette salle car je fais espagnol) J'écoute à la porte il y a The Boy et deux autres mecs peut-être trois je ne sais plus trop (des terminales) Ils jouent de la musique ça commence par
Smells like Teen Spirit
Sweet Dreams (la version de Manson)
Sleep Now in the Fire de Rage Against the Machine
Il n'y a pas de chanteur juste la musique
J'écoute à la porte et je n'ose pas rentrer jusqu'au jour où j'ose rentrer et je vais m'asseoir sur une table Je les regarde mon cœur bat très fort je me dis que peut-être ils se foutent un peu de ma gueule (ça se peut) mais je m'en fiche mon cœur bat très fort
The Boy joue de la basse il a toujours son étui sur le dos quand on prend le car Il est petit (moi encore plus) une basse c'est grand mais il est trop classe Ils ont joué à la fête de Noël du lycée et il y a même eu leur photo dans le journal je l'ai découpée et gardée
Le soir à l'internat on écoute la BO de Virgin Suicides ou celle de Matrix Chacune pense à son crush car évidemment c'est le sujet  principal Le centre de gravité de nos petites vies de jeunes filles
Le premier étage de l'internat est mixte des filles de seconde des garçons de terminale Heureusement il ne se passe rien de bizarre Les mecs sont un peu comme des grands frères ils s'arrêtent souvent discuter on laisse notre porte ouverte C'est la première chambre à droite dans le couloir
J'aime bien l'ambiance ici on ne fait que rigoler malgré la gêne omniprésente qui vient probablement du fait que je viens d'avoir quatorze ans
Je regarde parfois The Boy qui joue au baby-foot dans le foyer La chaîne hi-fi passe The Unforgiven de Metallica What I've felt, what I've known Never shined through in what I've shown Never be, never see Won't see what might have been
C'est ma chanson préférée une fille de ma classe m'a prêté le CD pour que je le grave Plus tard je l'achèterai en vrai je trouve ça important d'avoir le vrai Black Album C'est une affaire sérieuse, la musique
J'ai accroché sur la porte de ma chambre chez moi une affiche de NO PLACE FOR SOUL
ça annonce la couleur
J'ai internet depuis un an ou deux Le week-end on le passe à discuter sur MSN ou à s'échanger des mails (douteux) des chaînes de questionnaires On grille rapidement les heures mensuelles du forfait
J'ai les adresses mail de tout le monde c'est un peu comme entrer chez les gens Il y a ce questionnaire un peu particulier auquel le destinataire doit répondre concernant l'expéditeur En gros une série de questions sur moi auxquelles tu dois répondre M. a répondu au mien M. c'est un copain de The Boy un terminale sympa qui vient souvent discuter chez nous quand la porte est ouverte Il a répondu à une question sur mes qualités (je sais plus trop je crois que c'était ça) : "En tout cas tu sais ce que ça veut dire aimer et ça c'est cool"
Je sais pas si c'est cool car j'ai l'impression d'être tombée malade C'est douloureux tout le monde est au courant et me regarde bizarre C'est vraiment comme si j'avais une maladie
The Boy ne ressent rien de spécial à mon sujet Il a répondu dans le questionnaire à la question sur mon âge "14 ans... ah ouais t'es petite en fait"
voilà
je suis petite
et c'est tout.
Le lundi matin qui suit les vacances de Pâques en arrivant au lycée dans le casier prévu à cet effet contre le mur près du CDI il y a une lettre qui m'est adressée
C'est l'écriture de M. sur l'enveloppe je crois Il y a deux feuilles recto-verso Les mecs de terminale ont fait une soirée pendant les vacances ils ont bu et ils ont décidé de m'écrire C'est à mourir de rire
The Boy écrit "Je suis quelqu'un de très réservé au cas où tu n'aurais pas remarqué" Je crois qu'il ne sait pas quoi écrire je me demande pourquoi ils m'écrivent mais chacun leur tour ils écrivent des bêtises d'ados saouls (l'un d'entre eux a dessiné une bite au stylo vert)
Ça me fait marrer c'est un peu gênant mais pas malveillant C'est une sorte de blague
Les filles de ma chambre sont toujours drôles Je ne sais pas si ce sont de vraies amies elles me tolèrent se confient parfois Je m'entends bien avec l'une d'entre elles Elle raconte qu'un jour son crush lui a parlé et qu'elle a tellement rougi qu'elle a eu de la buée sur ses lunettes (plus tard elle aura des lentilles et les garçons la regarderont différemment) Il y en a une autre qui ne m'aime pas trop je le sais mais je n'en veux à personne car après tout je suis chiante et bizarre
Dans l'autre classe de seconde Il y a un gars qui a des goûts vraiment nuls il écoute Lara Fabian et Isabelle Boulay lui aussi il est étrange Je le déteste un peu je n'aime pas sa voix il parle fort et fait l'intéressant alors qu'il a l'air naze Il a des lunettes et une raie au milieu en fait on se ressemble un peu c'est pour ça que je ne l'aime pas
Il dit que j'écoute de la musique de fermier
De la musique de fermier Non mais ça va pas bien
Ce que je ne sais pas encore c'est que l'année suivante il deviendra mon meilleur ami (avant qu'on ne se perde de vue une dizaine d'années plus tard)
The Boy répond à mes mails le week-end on discute Il reste cool même s'il ne m'aime pas je sens qu'il a un peu pitié Je lui en ai beaucoup trop dit au sujet de ce que je ressens pour lui
Les jeunes de 2020 diraient que je suis une forceuse
Un jour j'apprends qu'il est in love d'une fille de première elle est très jolie une brunette aux cheveux courts sympa je crois Évidemment je la déteste instantanément
Le week-end suivant je lui demande (par mail) s'il est vraiment amoureux d'elle Il me répond qu'il s'est déclaré et que ses sentiments ne sont pas réciproques Par conséquent il comprend ce que je ressens (j'aime bien qu'il me dise ça)
Je suis soulagée qu'elle ait dit non même si je ne comprends vraiment pas mais alors vraiment pas comment c'est possible
Je la déteste de le rendre malheureux alors que c'est la fille la plus chanceuse du monde
Il ne me parle presque jamais au lycée juste bonjour et encore
Un jour encore un mercredi après-midi il rentre saoul à l'internat avec ses potes et ils s'arrêtent dans notre chambre The Boy s'assoit sur mon lit et il répète en boucle "C'est pas normal"
Je ne saurai jamais ce qui n'était pas normal
J'arpente les couloirs vitrés ceux qui relient le dortoir au self le self aux salles de cours Il fait très froid dans ces couloirs l'hiver et il y a tout le temps des grosses tipules (enfin des cousins quoi)
Quand je le croise mon cœur bat fort et ça s'arrête là Je ne sais pas guérir
On regarde parfois des films le soir par exemple Massacre à la tronçonneuse ou des clips sur MTV dans la salle d'anglais où il y a la télé
If I could Then I would I'll go wherever you will go
J'aime bien cette chanson mais je le garde pour moi car c'est un peu trop niais C'est une affaire sérieuse, la musique
Elle passe souvent sur Europe 2 dans le car ils passent tout le temps cette radio une heure et quart de trajet le lundi une heure et quart le vendredi Pendant ce temps j'écoute des CDs sur mon Discman
Metallica ou Mass Hysteria ou Placebo ou Nirvana
ou Ben Harper parce que dans son questionnaire The Boy a dit que sa chanson préférée c'était Walk Away de Ben Harper alors je l'écoute en pensant à lui
And it's so hard to do And so easy to say But sometimes, sometimes You just have to walk away Walk away
Je me dis qu'il va partir à la fin de l'année ça me rend un peu triste
Il fait beau, c'est la coupe du monde The Boy aime bien le foot il porte un maillot de l'Italie Ça me rappelle que l'année précédente je m'étais prise de passion pour ce pays alors je m'étais mis en tête d'apprendre l'italien toute seule avec une méthode et des cassettes audio ça n'avait pas trop marché
Je ne sais pas encore que vingt ans plus tard je ferais la même chose avec le finnois mais sans les cassettes audio car d'ici là la technologie aurait évolué (bref)
Le dernier mercredi après-midi de l'année tout le monde va au bord du canal boire des bières Je n'ai été saoule qu'une seule fois avant
Avec les filles on achète des Despé au Casino de Carhaix-Plouguer Elles ont seize ans alors elles ont le droit
Je suis triste
Les mecs de terminale vont se baigner Une fille de ma classe roule des pelles à un ami de The Boy qui porte une chemise hawaïenne rouge avec des fleurs blanches The Boy plonge dans le canal en boxer noir il a un corps de sportif Je ne l'avais jamais vu en sous-vêtements
Je suis triste car c'est la dernière fois que je les vois après ils iront à la fac J'ai encore deux ans à passer ici et à traîner le mercredi après-midi au Casino de Carhaix-Plouguer
À la rentrée The Boy répond à mes mails il n'est pas content car je lui ai écrit alors que j'ai bu Il me pensait plus responsable je trouve ça un peu vexant
Un jour on ne s'écrit plus du tout je ne pense plus trop à lui je crois que je suis guérie
Je ne sais pas encore que j'aurai plusieurs autres vies dans les vingt ans à venir
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