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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

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Good Ideas

1.5k of canon-divergence fluff, now on AO3!

Dean is almost finished with his standard gun cleaning (once a week whether they need it or not) when footsteps approach from outside his bedroom door. Heavier than Eileen but lighter than Sam - must be Cas.

“What an awful day,” Cas sighs as he practically throws himself onto Dean’s prized memory foam mattress. He doesn’t even take his shoes off first, like an animal.

“Hello to you, babe,” Dean says, amused. He raises his head to fully look at Cas, now face planted into his pillow. Dean would like to say it’s unusual to see Cas this drained and frustrated after another shift at the Gas n Sip, but it’s become pretty much standard. And, because not-that-deep-down Dean’s a shitty person who lucked out and got a (fallen) angel to fall for him, he can’t entirely squash the pleased feeling in his gut that flares up every time Cas comes home to him, no matter the circumstances.

“Hello, Dean,” or that’s what Dean assumes Cas is saying, based on their past million and a half conversations over more than a decade.

Dean carefully sets down his colt and pads over to the bed. He takes a seat near Cas’s shins, the mattress slowly but surely dipping as it remembers Dean’s distinctive ass print. “What happened?”

“Humanity is stupid.”

Dean snorts. “Don’t have to tell me twice. What’d humanity do this time?”

Cas turns his head so he can glare balefully down at Dean with one brilliant blue eye. “Todd refilled the soda machine incorrectly. We had to reimburse ten customers who poured the wrong drinks despite the clear signs indicating the buttons were temporarily incorrect.”

“What a disaster,” Dean deadpans.

Cas groans a stream of indistinguishable words that might not even be English - knowing him, he’s probably insulting Todd’s mother ancient Aramaic or something - before he concludes, “It was a very uncomfortable situation. Todd is an imbecile.”

“Want me to kill him for you?” Dean asks casually.

Cas’s whole torso inflates with the depth of his sigh. “No,” he says, but the word is muffled and has zero conviction behind it.

“Come on,” Dean pokes Cas in the thigh. “You were the one who wanted this job in the first place. All the ‘human dignity’ you could choke down and all that crap.”

“I must’ve been mistaken.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Dean says, grinning as Cas rolls over so he’s lying normally on Dean’s bed. “Y’know, you could always do something else. Quit the Gas n Sip.”

“Like what?” Cas asks as he frowns up at the ceiling. “I don’t have much experience except in inventory management and customer service.”

“What about all your angel stuff?”

“I can hardly list ‘former Angel of the Lord’ on my resume,” Cas grumbles.

“You’ve got all those languages crammed in your brain, serious hand-to-hand skills - I could teach you all I know about cars, and you can add that.”

Cas gives a considering grunt.

“Look,” Dean says as he scoots further up the bed so he’s more aligned with Cas’s chest than his knees. “You were the one who was all gung-ho about getting a job to interact with normal people.”

“I needed a better baseline now I’m human because you and Sam are not ‘normal’ by any definition of the word,” Cas sniffs.

“Rude. Anyway, I told you to take things slow. So your first stab back at slumming it with regular folks isn’t going so great. Sometimes these things take a while to settle down,” Dean says, uncomfortably reminded of the time he had to comfort Sammy after three piano lessons didn’t turn him into the next Geoff Nicholls - or Elton John, as Dean had to amend after Sammy shot him a look of complete incomprehension.

“You don’t have to throw yourself into anything,” Dean adds gently to Cas. “We’ve got no big bad waiting out in the wings. It’s okay to take things one step at a time.”

“Because you provide such an excellent model of restraint and forethought,” Cas mutters.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Obviously. You don’t see me jumping back into Leave it to Beaver.”

“Because that’s not what you want,” Cas says, his eyes narrowing. “You said civilian life isn’t for you.”

Dean swallows. He pulls at a wrinkle in the sheets. “You so sure about that?”

Cas props himself up on his elbows, intrigued. “You’re truly considering retiring from hunting?”

Dean glances over at his guns, disassembled and gleaming on his desk. “I’ve been thinking about it. Sammy doesn’t go on many hunts anymore, says it’s more important to teach the next generation of fighters than handling everything by ourselves.”

“A wise thing to say, considering the limitations of the average human lifespan.”

“And you wonder why we never bring you to parties,” Dean says as Cas scowls in return, really only proving Dean’s point. “I’ve been looking into other stuff to do.”

“Like what?”

“Not sure,” he admits. “Sam’s got his Hunter Hogwarts thing going on - I could help Sam out, but the thought of reading and assignments makes me want to throw myself out a window.”

“You do like to be more hands-on,” Cas says diplomatically.

Dean sighs, wistful. “If the Roadhouse was still around, I would’ve kicked ass there. Talking with veterans in the business, passing along intel, throwing out the occasional brawler.”

Cas cocks his head. “Why don’t you rebuild one?”

“What?”

“Another Roadhouse,” Cas says like it’s obvious. “Those hunters Sam is teaching, they will need another meeting point once they’ve completed their training.”

Dean gapes at him, trying not to get his hopes up. He can picture it with alarming clarity, him behind the bar, Cas sitting off to the side, pouring over the books or a translation for one of Sam’s kids.

But this thing with Cas is so new - rescuing Cas from the Empty, telling him haltingly and not in so many words Cas could have what he wanted after all, doing their weird not-dating thing that works for them. Dean can’t be sure they’re on the same page about this.

Cas is technically human, but so many parts of him are still pretty out there in terms of fitting in with normal people stuff. Dean suggested they go on an honest to God date about two weeks after that went down - dinner at a fancy place in Salina. He even looked it up on Yelp. But, naturally, Cas had to ask ahead of time what usually happened on a date - a real date, Dean, because Metatron’s pop culture dump gave me many false impressions of what is normal or healthy for humans.

When Dean embarrassingly couldn’t think of a single thing people did on dates except eat and have sex, Cas went to Sam because apparently there are zero boundaries when it comes to Team Free Will. And Sam, like a total Samantha, said most people talked about their feelings and life goals.

To which Cas turned back to Dean, said those big, I love you, words like they’re nothing and everything, and added his life goal was not dying before spending the rest of his human life with Dean.

The fucker even looked pleased Dean didn’t have to shell out the dough for a fancy steak.

“You have enough connections in the community to round up a decent clientele base,” Cas continues. “Not to mention your reputation, which would go a long way towards drawing hunters you personally haven’t met before.”

Dean clears his throat. “You really think I could do something like that?”

Cas narrows his eyes. “I think you could do anything you set your mind to,” he says with that patented-Cas sincerity that Dean would call bullshit with anyone else. Cas continues, “Twenty-seven percent of restaurants fail in their first year, but I have every confidence in you beating the odds.”

Dean snorts. Even Cas’s Beautiful Mind statistics aren’t enough to bring his mood down.

“And if you need help…” Cas drifts off sheepishly, “I do have requisite experience managing inventory. I cut down on unsellable food by fifteen percent two weeks ago.”

“You’re a goddamn genius,” Dean breathes as he bends over Cas.

Cas smiles up at him. “Would you want to?”

“Would I - ?” Dean breaks off incredulously to kiss him. “Of couse I fucking want to. But you really think it’s a good idea?”

Cas purses his lips. “It was my suggestion in the first place.”

“But maybe you were just spitballing,” Dean hedges. “So if you really think restarting the Roadhouse would be a bad idea, I can take it.”

Cas wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him closer. “I don’t have bad ideas, Dean,” he murmurs.

That is so blatantly untrue, Dean almost bursts out laughing. But before he can make a sound, Cas’s other hand slides underneath his shirt, his fingers tapping lightly against the buckle of Dean’s belt. Dean raises his head to catch sight of Cas's face, and Cas’s eyes are dark with want.

Alright, so in times like these, Dean can admit Cas can have a good idea or two.

#destiel #destiel ficlet #ficlet #rae writes fic #profoundnet #established relationship #canon divergence

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hutchhitched · 3 years

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I’m a week late to the game, but I’m excited to join this discussion. I’ve read the books multiple times, but it’s been a long while. Thanks to @everlarkedalways for hosting. Here are thoughts and musings on Chapter 1.

Katniss wakes to a cold bed. For the person who becomes the Girl on Fire, this is not a good beginning.

Katniss passes through a few gates to get to the meadow, something I didn’t remember from previous readings. The barriers that are set up around the district seem excessive, but that oppressiveness likely does lead to apathy. We know that constant persecution and systemic racism causes trauma in minority groups. It seems logical that the citizens of District 12 have suffered a lot of that.

Katniss is a rebel, even though she tries to convince her audience that she’s not. There’s been a lot of talk in the fandom that Katniss is a reluctant rebel and leader, but she says in the first chapter that she’d said plenty of things that could have gotten her in trouble when she was younger. It was only after seeing her mother’s response to her words, that she learned to keep her head down and her thoughts to herself. Since Gale’s frustrated with Katniss’ lack of interest in resisting the Capitol once he learns of the uprising in District 8, it’s interesting that she was a rebel even before she met Gale. I imagine she and her father spent a lot of time talking in the woods. Likely, he encouraged her to speak her mind and think about what she believed (also likely, without overtly encouraging her to be rebellious). If that’s true, her father equipped her to survive in more ways than simply teaching her how to hunt. He also helped her think about societal problems and how to combat those. This is a little head canon mixed with canon, but I have no regrets.

There’s imagery of slavery in the descriptions of food and labor. Each citizen is provided grain and oil by the Capitol. In the antebellum slave system, slave owners were responsible for clothing, feeding, and sheltering their slaves in exchange for labor. Food rations were wholly inadequate, often consisting of small amounts of corn. No meat, no dairy, no sugar. Basically, slaves were expected to subsist on cornmeal. Slaves were almost always malnourished and on the verge of starving. As a result, child mortality was 50%. There’s no mention of high a high infant mortality rate in Panem, but I’d bet good money on it being true.

Gale says at one point that it’s in the best interest of the Capitol to keep the citizens separated. He’s referring to the merchant class vs. the miners (those who don’t have to take out tesserae and those who do), but the Capitol has also separated Panem’s citizens into districts. That, added to the gates through which Katniss has to pass to go into the woods, demonstrates a concerted effort to divide and conquer.

In Panem, the populace seems to be divided mostly over class. There is little mention of gender (other than tributes who are male and female being reaped), but there is nothing in the books (that I remember) that says women are exempt from working in the mines. Slave women were also expected to labor in the fields, so gender is irrelevant to some degree in Panem (more on that in later chapters). There is also very little mention of race. Katniss says that her mother and sister stand out with their blonde hair and blue eyes, but those are not necessarily racial features to Katniss. Personally, I think Collins did this intentionally. Our society is hard-wired to see race; thus, we do when we read the books. Katniss doesn’t seem to because race doesn’t appear to matter as much as class, at least in chapter 1. Panem’s main divisions are a result of class issues based on socio-economic status.

Side note: I’m not trying to argue that Katniss is white (northern/western European in ancestry). Nor am I arguing that race is not an important topic. I think Collins is being subtle, and I think it works in this context. Because Collins doesn’t define her characters that way, it allows for us who read the books to discuss racial identity amongst ourselves (and there has been a lot of it—Remember the backlash over Rue’s casting? Remember the masterlist of Katniss as a POC that caused such an uproar? Does anyone have a copy of that, btw? I’d kind of like to see what’s on it.). The fact that we as a fandom have that discussion is evidence that race is a systemic issue for us, even if Katniss doesn’t overtly mention it.

In Colonial America, during the Early Republic, and during the antebellum period, the southern hierarchy evolved in such a way as to divide society based on race. It was imperative to the elite planters to divide and conquer based on race instead of class. Since 30 to 50 percent of the population in slave states was in the poor white class and there were four million slaves in the United States when the Civil War began in 1861, it was vital that the relatively small number of slave owners control the rest of the population that vastly outnumbered them. The planter elite (those who owned 50 or more slaves) made up less than three percent of the total population. Only about 30% of the South’s white population owned one or more slaves. That meant that 70% of the white population and four million slaves and 500,000 free blacks had to be controlled by the minority ruling class. That’s a massive imbalance.

Slave codes and black codes before the Civil War and black codes and Jim Crow laws following it created the climate on which this racial hierarchy was based. Slaves and free blacks were not allowed to carry guns, testify against whites, serve on juries, and so on. Slaves could not be in possession of a gun or ammunition, wear material worth over certain amount (resulting in cotton and muslin for slaves and silks and satins as clothing for whites), make over a certain amount of money, learn to read, and consume alcohol. While many poor whites suffered economically the same way slaves did (and were sometimes materially worse), they had privileges slaves did not. As a result, whites could “comfort” themselves by saying, “I may be poor, but at least I’m white.” This problem was exacerbated because poor whites who couldn’t find jobs believed that slaves stole their employment from them (They’re taking our jobs!). That thinking continued after the Civil War, too, and is at the foundation of white privilege today. In Panem, the citizens are divided along class lines, but everyone lacks the necessities the same way poor whites and slaves both lacked food and adequate clothing and shelter prior to the Civil War (and beyond).

That’s a lot of meta for one chapter. Onward! Thanks for hosting this re-read. It’s been a while since I sat down with the books.

#thgagain #the hunger games #the hunger games meta #thoughts

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url-is-url · 3 years

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Can you please talk more about valerie red huntress symbiote au ? Just general thoughts on how it would work ? I know barely anything about Venom but imagine valerie would get the symbiote from Axion Labs.

OH GOD OH NO OH GOD OH NO I DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO BE AN AU I JUST WANTED TO DUNK ON BUTCH HARTMAN AND HIS PLAGIARIZING HABIT AND MY VENOM OBSESSION

First of all: I will be referring to the symbiote as Venom, a la movie canon, because I have a deep and passionate loathing for the past three years of Venom comic canon, do not get me started on this because I will not be able to stop.

Okay firstly: YES Venom totally comes from Axion Labs. I have not watched Danny Phantom since it was actually airing so I'm definitely checking the ole wiki as I write this but apparently Axion Labs was its own thing and then VladCo bought it? Idk how Venom got to Axion Labs, but it got there and the scientists were like "idk wtf to do with this" and just sorta. Put it in a drawer with a label that says "weird space goo" and forgot about it. (That is VERY MUCH a thing that happens in science labs you would not BELIEVE the shit you can run into if you start poking around old storage objects in labs.) And then VladCo buys Axion, and Intern Valerie is helping organize things and she finds the jar of lost space goo. Idk what happens after that; maybe she determines it's some flavor of alive and passes it to Vlad under the assumption that it's a Weird Space Ghost, maybe she drops it and Venom escapes and bonds with her. I don't know, the details of how they get together aren't important IMO, the important part is the interactions between symbiote and host.

Valerie is still in high school and this is very important to me. Depending on what you do and don't consider canon, Venom is between several thousand and six hundred million years old. Depending on what you do and don't consider canon, Venom has BEEN TO EARTH BEFORE! I am of the opinion that Venom is actually extremely knowledgeable about physics and chemistry and other like, not-Earth-specific things, because they're old as balls. So imagine you're in high school and you're in AP World learning about the Vikings, and you hear this bass-ass voice in your head go actually it wasn't like that at all and suddenly you're RELIVING some other creature's memories of fighting Vikings. Or you're in high school and you're in biology watching a video about octopus camouflage and this voice in your head goes we can do that too and your arm turns "invisible". Imagine you're on your period and you ran out of Advil and you think to yourself "I swear to god if this lunch line doesn't move faster I'm gonna eat the kid in front of me" and the voice in your head goes no, eat the one behind you, he looks juicier LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

Valerie and Venom get together way after Danny becomes Phantom. So Valerie has this huge crush on Danny, but then she also hates Phantom's guts. Venom has senses that humans don't so they can tell that Fenton is Phantom, and Venom regrets their life choices re:bonding with a human, because oh no, these bald apes are so fucking stupid. Every day Venom considers informing Valerie about the secret identity thing. Every day Venom remembers that Phantom's ghostly wail is extremely deadly to them specifically. Every day Venom does not tell Valerie about the secret identity thing.

Most of town is probably at least a little convinced that the huntress is some sort of weirdass ghost, because humans aren't that big. I headcanon Valerie as being short but muscular as hell, around 5'4". Venomized Valerie? Pushing 7' and built like Athena. People assuming she's a weirdass ghost pisses Valerie off SO MUCH, and it pisses Venom off too though for different reasons (I AM TAKING VERY GOOD CARE OF MY HOST SHE IS ONE HUNDRED PERCENT ALIVE I AM INSULTED BY YOUR INSINUATIONS THAT SHE IS IN ANY WAY DECEASED)

Oh hey wait, if Venom can tell the Dannys are the same person, Venom can also tell that the Vlads are the same person. Vlad has never demonstrated anything along the lines of a ghostly wail, so his secret identity is NOT safe and Venom tells Valerie what's what. Valerie is so disturbed, but then she decides to give Vlad the Homophobic Rich Grandpa treatment and pretends to go along with what he wants so she can get that sweet sweet tech, then she turns right around and does whatever she wants when he's not looking. Maybe Venom (as in the big lady) and Red Huntress are assumed to be two different people because Valerie works for Vlad as Red but then does her own stuff as Venom?

Carnage. Oh god, Carnage. So, the Carnage symbiote (often referred to as Red, I love a coinkydink) is Venom's offspring. In the comics, it is possible for a host to experience sympathetic morning sickness and shit in advance of the symbiote spawning. Please imagine you're in high school in a small town, and you are nauseous as fuck and having weird dreams and cannot eat enough chocolate (chocolate is a good source of phenylthylamine, which is a neurotransmitter that symbiotes need to eat) and one of your shitty high school friends goes "omg are you PREGNANT" and you know that whatever you say, everybody in the universe is gonna hear it. You've never had sex in your life but you still have a moment of panic like OH GOD AM I THE NEXT VIRGIN MARY SHIT and then your body roommate is like actually, this one's on me. DO YOU LOSE YOUR WHOLE GODDAMN MIND OR DO YOU LOSE YOUR WHOLE GODDAMN MIND. "wait Venom I thought you were a guy" "why would you think that i have a concept of gender" "...your voice is deep?" "humans are so fucking stupid"

The big weaknesses of symbiotes are fire and certain frequencies of sound. Venom is scared shitless of Ember McClain, send tweet.

There's a re-appearing ghost who hosted Venom when they were alive. This could be a canon character or an OC. Either way, the interactions maximally play up the "awkward ex" thing.

A better source of the phenylthylamine Venom needs to live is BRAINS. This is now a ghost hunger AU also and Valerie catches Phantom noshing on like, a ghost deer or something. Cue Venom SEE IF HE CAN DO IT WHY CAN'T WE

Hey Venom's an alien who is old as balls, it's called the INFINITE REALMS, there's probably LOTS of alien ghosts with opinions about symbiotes

One day Phantom gets hurt really badly and Valerie feels bad enough to go save his ass (if only because the only person that gets to kill Phantom is HER tyvm). Venom is very Exasperated Parent about all of these fool human children so they just. Pick him up by the scruff like a disgruntled kitten and drag him to safety.

Venom has a very, very low opinion of the Doctors Fenton. Venom knows one (1) thing about humans and that is Protecc The Children and these morons are continuously shooting at their own child. The only reason Venom has not eaten them is because a) Valerie insists that humans are off menu and b) Danny's ghostly wail is scary. Also the only competent ghost hunters in this town seem to be Sam, Tucker, Danny, Jazz, and Valerie. Valerie why are the only competent people in this town children. "i wish i FUCKIN KNEW"

I'm now headcanoning that Valerie has a Very Southern grandma or auntie just to have an excuse for Venom to learn Very Southern expressions. Please imagine doing something stupid and the alien that lives in your brain stem just goes "oh bless your heart". Please imagine that some asshole yoinked the whole town into the Ghost Zone again and the alien that lives in your brain stem is like "dear jesus give me patience" I just think that would be funny.

#please don't ask me to talk about venom i will not be able to stop a;lskdjfsa;lkdfj

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faustonastring · 4 years

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How would the main six react the the mc wanting to start a family?

Thanks for requesting I hope you like it!

My request are open!

Main six reacting to Mc wanting to start a family!

Psa! Please read before reading!

Heheh hi, so I’m like halfway through writing this and I just want to say, that there are two voices that go into wanting to start a family, just because you want too, doesn’t mean your partner may want to (atleast at the moment) I pride myself on writing the main six as accurately as I can, so I’m keeping this in mind while writing it, they still will all follow the prompt, but I’m also writing the bumps in the road that happen along the way (hopefully this makes more sense when you read it) also like half of them have some sort of childhood trauma sooo... read with an open mind.

Asra

Are you being serious? Like really serious? This is t a prank is it? If it is he’ll cry. Don’t make asra cry. Tell him your being serious. Tell him you want to start a family with him. It makes his heart flutter everytime.

He’s waited years for you to tell him this. Decades even, (depending on your time line) and yet your here. Asking him to start a family. He never thought he’d get the chance. He never thought he’d ever get the chance... but I guess all his hard work is really paying off huh.

I mention this a lot, but Asra has a lot of trauma. It doesn’t just go away when you both say I love you, or get married, or decide you want a kid. Sure it gets better over time, but it will probably take atleast a decade for those wounds to fully heal (and that’s being generous) so, as excited as asra is to want to start a family with you, if it’s too early in your relationship, he might have to decline for now. Ask him again in a year or two.

But if you do manage to get Asra ‘Commitment issues’ Alnazar to agree, he want to do it right. He wants his kid to have a better childhood than he had, so he obviously goes to his parents for help. Often. They obviously don’t mind though, they are thrilled to be having a grandchild. (also if your going to adopt, asras gets very sentimental, and wants to adopt all the kids, in the orphanage (let’s say Nadia builds one after the uprights-) and leaves crying, everytime.)

Nadia

Are you sure? You do know how much time and effort you need for kids right? Don’t worry about the money though, the money isn’t the problem, the problem is: is she going to have time in her schedule to raise one or more kid(s)

I mean her parents did it what? Seven times??? And they were ruling over a whole country weren’t they? How hard can it be???? She’ll be fine. Yep. There is nothing to worry about, she’s decided. As long as your on board for it, she’ll make room for as much time as you need. Besides, it’s much easier to rule with you with her.

She has books on top of books, on top of books on how to be a good mother. I mean she had a good mother, and great sisters sure- but she doesn’t want to mess this up for you. She knows how much it means to you, and besides, being a good mother is much more difficult than being a good ruler. Any one can rule, but only a select few can properly raise a kid.

As soon as her family finds out that your planing on starting a family, they book it to vesuvia to give the both of you all the support and tips you need. And when the kid does get here, they always find it hard to part ways. It’s been a while since a new Satrinava has entered this world. Also having her family near reminds Nadia that she doesn’t need books to be a good mom. You’re here with her the both of you are going to do fine. Hopefully.

Julian

He thinks you’re joking at first. Him? Really??? Bold of you to assume that a no good drunk like him would make a good father. Am I right? It’s not like he’s canonically great with kids, helped raise his baby sister and protected her from a shipwreck, or anything. Hahaha. You my friend. Are very bold.

Julian needs a moment or two to think things over, it’s nothing against you, no no no it’s not that! You’re his love! His light! His one and only! His darling! He’d never mean to offended you! He just needs to think it over, figure out if this is the right time to start something this big. If he’s in the right mental state for it. If he’s not? He’ll let you know when he is.

But if he is ready? Ohhohoho buckle up baby because you got a long journey ahead of you! He’s reading up on child development, digging up old notes he has from the very few times he’s had child patients (he’s also researching more about pregnancy, if you can and want to go down that road with him...but I wouldn’t let him deliver the baby if I were you....if you asked him he’d probably reluctantly do so....but...it’s probably best if you leave that to a professional)

Mazelinka and Portia give you and Julian are the best recipes they can find, and Portia will knit or sew, or crochet, he’ll maybe all three- little toys for your kid when the time gets closer. They will one hundred percent be on board with this, and volunteer to baby sit everytime the two of you need some alone time

Portia

Yes. She doesn’t need to think to long or hard about it. The answer is yes. One million times yes! Yes, yes yes yes yes yes! She is over joyed to be honest! She is also going to be a great mom.

As long as the time is right, and you are alright, everything is going to be alright! Every thing is going to be great! She’s going to be a great mom....right? She’s never really had a mom....well she’s had grandmas that counts right? What if she isn’t a good mom? What if she screws something up? Or her kid hates her? What if they like her brother more than her? (*looks at camera like in an episode of the office*)

Tell her you believe in her. That she’s going to be a great mom! That you’ll be there to help her. Portia has a lot of insecurities and self doubt, so it really means a lot to her. And as soon as she’s mentally prepared- everyone and their mother knows about your plans.....”sorry! It just kind of slipped out....and then people started telling their friends and families...and...uhhhhh”

Julian would not only be a good dad, but a pretty decent uncle too! (Also again, if your pregnant...he gives you his card ;)....but not only for your safety but for your babies safety please throw it away, he’s not professionally trained to deliver-) While your waiting for things to get settled, get ready to hear an ear full of stories from when Portia and Julian were kids!

Muriel

Him? When you first ask him he actually does a double take and looks around to make sure you were asking him. But who else would you ask? The chickens? He just doesn’t see why you would want to do that with....him. Him of all people. You chose him.

He isn’t sure what to say at first, he’s going to need about three to five buissnes days to think it over. No matter how much he wants this....he just isn’t sure. It has nothing to do with you really. He tries to make that as clear as possible but...can he trust him self with a kid? Obviously you trust him, and you know he won’t do anything, but this isn’t about what you think. He needs to figure it out on his own.

In three to five business days, if he says no....ask again in maybe a year or two. ( I know it’s long but you’ll have a higher chance of him saying yes if you wait longer, you can’t push things onto him, that never works.) but if he says yes? Well he doesn’t. You’ll catch him whittling things like toys, or a crib, or a bed, and if you ask what it’s for, he’ll say “for our kid/baby” Our.

He asks asra like a million questions, he gets books, and starts going out into town more to get the softest blankets and clothes. He grew up thinking he was a burden. A waste of space. He grew up thinking he was t alowed to have nice things. He doesn’t want his kid to ever go through that. His kid is going to grow up in the most loving and safe house any one can grow up in. I swear by it.

Lucio

What do you mean by start a family? Like adopt more pets.....or.....the other kind of family. Oh you mean the other kind? Like the human, fleshy kind? Are you sure? Kids are so gross aren’t they? They cry and throw up and you have to take care of them for soooo long-

Look, lucio is a very.....complex..character. I don’t think he’s totally evil but he does have a lot of problems that would take a lot of time to go through before I think he’s mentally prepared to have a kid. What’s intresting about lucio is that he has a lot of layers to him. Like ogres. Which makes him very difficult to write, especially when I don’t know where we’ll end up at the end of his route so- I’m sorry lucio stans, but unless you’ve been together for like 20-30 years...

this is just how I headcanon it, other people I know will disagree and say he’d love to have a mini him running around which is valid.... but...I think he’d be scared to have a mini him running around, because of how bad he turned out, and he wouldn’t want to raise his kid like how morga raised him, but we tend to follow in are parents footsteps when raising a kid, wether we like it or not, so...

I’m sorry this is more of a meta than a headcanon I just don’t really know how to write it....lucio would be against it. He isn’t ready. Not ready for the responsibility, not ready to take the risk of the mistakes his kid is going to make. Once he cleans up all his oopsies, and quite possibly gets on good terms with his mother, then maybe just maybe you’ll have a standing chance, besides... he does want an heir ya’know (but if the two of you make an oopsie together and you want to keep it, go ahead. He needs to start taking more responsibility when it comes to his mistakes, so what a great place to start! besides who would he be to tell you what to do with your body.)

Thanks for reading! I can redo Lucios if some one wants... I really just need ideas because it’s too early In his route to really be able to tell how he handles it, so I’d love to hear your opinions on it!

Next headcanon: main six reacting to Mc’s sleepy voice! (5/23)

Request are open!!!!!

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 10: Premonitions]

Several weeks and depressive episodes later...I’m BACK! 😃

And guess what: we’re officially approximately halfway done with BYCNL! (There will probably be nineteen chapters total.)

The Queen/BoRhap fandom is feeling extra quiet lately, so if you’re still out there I’d LOVE it if you dropped me a comment/message/etc to let me know! I appreciate you all so much and hope you are finding things that bring you happiness, fulfillment, and peace. 💜

Chapter summary: Roger makes a purchase, Freddie makes a friend, Y/N makes an unsettling discovery, John makes a bewildering request.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, babies (but not your babies...or are they?!).

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @bookandband @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 😊

“Roger, this is too much.” Your sandals click on the marble tile floor, a sandy gold like the beaches of Ostia. You peer up at the winding staircase, the Tudor-style diamond windows, the chandelier dripping with crystals. “This is way, way, way too much.”

“There’s no such thing as too much,” he parries merrily. “And look!” He pulls back an armful of sheer white curtains that had obscured the backyard. “The pool has a slide!”

You smile because you have to; he’s so elated, so young. “Roger, baby, unless you’re planning to acquire a literal harem of women we will never have a use for six bedrooms.”

“Sure we will!” He counts on his rugged fingers. “There’s one for us, and one can be the guest bedroom for when my mother or your parents visit, and then there’s one for if Chrissie ever wises up and leaves that wanker Brian and requires a place to stay between husbands, and one for when John needs an escape from that mind-numbing domestic purgatory of his, and one for Freddie’s overflow cats...” Roger trails off. He’s lost track.

“That still leaves one unnecessary bedroom.”

He grins. “One for Roger Junior.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s a wonderful home for children,” the real estate agent chimes, flitting around rearranging pillows and dusting off tabletops. “Plenty of space to spread out in, lots of bedrooms, fenced-in yard, security gate, spectacular school district...and such a lovely garden to explore! Does your wife garden?” she asks Roger.

“Girlfriend,” he corrects. “And no, she’s thoroughly useless in the agricultural department.”

You laugh and shove him away. “I have other talents.”

“You certainly do.” He growls as he grips your waist, inhales you, bites playfully down your neck and collarbones. The real estate agent raises her eyebrows, but politely averts her gaze and pretends to check if an artificial fern needs watering.

It’s the downturn of August, 1976. The sun is glaring and hot and spills in through the windows, setting the metallic flecks in the marble floor alight. It makes you think of the Yellow Brick Road, of fantasies built piece by piece into truth. John and Veronica bought a house in Putney, Brian and Chrissie a far larger one in Chelsea, Freddie and Mary a posh flat in West Kensington. Roger has his heart set on nothing less than a Surrey mansion. On the rare occasion that Queen has been home since the start of the A Night At The Opera Tour, you and Roger stay in his shabby—dodgy, you remind yourself—old apartment and pack boxes late into the evening, giggling over all the random and ancient relics you stumble across, sticks of Freddie’s eyeliner and dust bunnies tangled in strands of Brian’s spiraled hair, crumpled up spheres of paper with excerpts of songs scrawled on them, fossilized crusts of grilled cheese sandwiches beneath the couch. Queen is preparing for a brief UK tour at the start of September, including a free concert in Hyde Park organized by entrepreneur Richard Branson. Then it’ll be back to the studio to record their next album, a highly anticipated album, an album that will make millions regardless of what’s on it; and what’s on it, in your humble and musically unlearned opinion, is pretty goddamn great.

“Seriously,” Roger prompts, quietly now. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it. I love it. I just don’t need it.”

He grins. “I know you don’t need it. But I do.”

“That list of yours is getting awfully long.”

“You have no idea. We haven’t even started on the exotic pet collection yet.”

“There’s a marvelous koi pond out in the backyard,” the real estate agent says. “You could add turtles, and frogs, and all different types of fish. I can recommend sturgeon, they have such an alluring primeval sort of look to them, and the shimmer on shubunkins is just delightful...”

“You heard the lady.” Rog stretches his right hand like he does when his arm bothers him, when the bone that will never fully heal aches like something ancient and irredeemable, like hunger, like unrequited love: fingertips sprayed outwards, then folded into his palm, then outwards again.

“Rog...I don’t know.”

“Come on, baby! It has everything. Roman-style master bath. Bedrooms with mirrors on the ceiling. Space for my own studio. Land. Enormous refrigerators. You’ll have abundant room for John’s drawings.”

“Ohhh, now that’s true.” John is always adding to your collection, slipping you sketches as the boys scurry around getting ready before a show, during songwriting sessions that last long after midnight, when the band and its expanding circle of friends and family gather for birthdays and holidays. You don’t ask him about You’re My Best Friend, or, come to think of it, any of his other songs. You don’t ask him how he feels about his new life as a husband and father. And in return, John doesn’t ask whether you’re ever going to marry Roger, if you even want to, if you worry about what the future holds. It’s a loaded peace, but a comfortable one. A safe one.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Roger asks suddenly. “The girlfriend thing. The not-wife thing.”

“No,” you reply, smiling. “Of course not.” Roger isn’t someone who pens love letters, recites all the reasons why he cannot live without you, sings love songs. He rarely speaks of love at all. Roger is as he always is: all action, all energy, eyes forever looking forward. But he does love you; you’re sure he does. Everything he does bleeds with love.

“Good. Because there’s no one I’d rather acquire a harem and zoological park with.”

“Okay,” you relent. “But no lions or tigers or bears. I’m quite attached to your limbs, and you’ve come close enough to ruining them already.”

“Deal.” He taps the Canon that hangs from your shoulder by its strap. “We should document this momentous juncture. One day we can pull out the photo album and show Roger Junior. ‘Hey look kid, this was the day Mum and Dad bought the house you were conceived in.’”

You laugh, almost positive that Roger isn’t serious. “I can guarantee you that precisely zero percent of children would ever want to hear that.” Nevertheless, you ready the camera and hold it as far away as you can, the lens aimed towards you.

“Don’t forget to smile!” Roger trills in his high, victorious voice as he rests his chin in the dip of your collarbone.

You snap the photo. The flash bursts through the kitchen of the Surrey mansion, blinding you both. The artificial bluish light dissipates like smoke.

~~~~~~~~~~

His name is Laszlo, and he’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen...even when he’s not especially well-mannered.

Currently, Laszlo—an Eastern European moniker from somewhere in his mother’s comically vast family tree—is whimpering and squirming against Veronica’s chest as she pats his tiny back and sighs wearily. Veronica, ever the good Polish Catholic wife, is already pregnant again. Chrissie smirks triumphantly and puffs on a cigarette, her rings glimmering on her left hand, her dress violet and new and very expensive. Brian is lost in some deep intellectual conversation with Richard Branson, gesturing with his long nimble hands and nodding empathetically, his dark curls rustling in the breeze like the lithe branches of a willow tree.

“Thank god you’re here,” John calls as you and Roger approach. “Freddie is about to get this concert cancelled.”

“I’m about to make this concert fabulous, darling,” Freddie objects. “We need pyrotechnics, we need sparklers and explosions and fireworks!”

Mr. Branson shakes his head. “Can’t do it, Fred. The embers could travel and set the trees on fire.”

Freddie groans. “Tell him, Roger!”

Roger shrugs, grinning, resting his elbow on John’s shoulder. “I don’t know, maybe we shouldn’t burn down Hyde Park.”

“You’ll be under a huge orange canopy, right over there.” Mr. Branson motions with a sweep of his arm. “You can’t do anything aerial. Flashing lights, sure. Fog, sure. But no fire. No explosions. Oh, and there’s technically a noise ordinance, but we’re working out a deal so the city won’t enforce it on the day of the show.”

“Orange?!” Freddie squeals.

“How will the acoustics be in a tent?” Brian asks, troubled.

John smiles mischievously. “Yes, how dreadful if no one could hear the extraneous guitar solos.”

“I have a gong, Rich,” Roger says. “Everyone will be able to hear my gong, right?”

“Your gong?” Freddie whines. “What about my voice?!”

“I miss stadiums,” Roger grumbles. You exchange a knowing glance with Mary and Chris and Veronica, who is imploring Laszlo to take a bottle. Our boys are difficult, aren’t they?

“The acoustics will be fine,” Mr. Branson snaps. “The tent color will be fine. Everything will be fine. You don’t need any fucking fireworks. Please for the love of god just tell me what kind of sandwiches you want.”

“That’ll be an ordeal as well,” Chrissie quips, and you all laugh; even Laszlo perks up, stops wriggling, glimpses around the open green space with curious greyish eyes like John’s.

Some teenage employee carrying a tangle of cables trots over, sweat dripping down his flushed freckled cheeks. “Mr. Branson? There’s someone from the city here to see you.”

Richard Branson smacks his forehead. “Jesus christ. Okay, I’ll be right there. Hey, Steve, hey, have you seen Dom? Go find Dom and tell her to come over here, okay? Thanks.”

The teenage employee nods and disappears into a sea of bustling people ferrying equipment, fliers, chairs, messages.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Mr. Branson says. “These city bastards are out to crucify me. You’d think they’d be a little more grateful that Queen of all bands is willing to put on a free concert in their backyard, but alas. Hey, Dom, over here!”

He waves to a petite young woman with a glossy shock of black hair and olive Mediterranean skin. She’s wearing all yellow: shorts patterned with daffodils, a tank top the color of butter, a headband like a sunbeam. One of her trim arms is cradling a notebook; the other reaches out so she can shake hands with everyone. The gesture is courteous but somewhat unnatural.

“This,” Mr. Branson begins, “is my personal assistant Dominique. She’s wonderful, she’ll listen to all your pretentious tales of woe and do it with a smile, because she’s a true professional. Better yet, she’s going to ask you the tedious questions I was supposed to so you don’t have to wait for me to finish sparring with the city council. Okay? Okay. Have fun. I’ll be back.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Dom says placidly in a heavy French accent. So that’s why her handshake was off somehow, stilted and weak; the French usually kiss as a greeting. You choke back a snort as you imagine Veronica’s reaction to that. Mr. Branson stalks away muttering about litigious twats.

“Oh, aren’t you just darling!” Freddie circles Dom, admiring her outfit, her hair, her gold hoop earrings. He wafts his cigarette around flamboyantly, completely forgetting to smoke it. “The French are so tasteful, aren’t they? You simply must connect me with your stylist.”

“I would be happy to, Mr. Mercury. But regrettably, I am my own stylist.”

“Ahh!” Freddie exhales, enamored. Mary lifts Laszlo from Veronica’s tired arms and cradles him, tickles his nose, beams down into his fresh and inquisitive face.

Dom pulls a pen from her shirt pocket. “May I ask your sandwich preferences for the day of the show?”

She immediately receives four very different answers, and she raises an eyebrow, her pen hovering over the lined paper of her notebook.

“I’m so sorry about them,” Chrissie says, and Dom chuckles civilly.

“Ham and cheddar,” Freddie tells her, synthesizing the responses. “Bacon, fried fish, steak and onion jam...and something for Brian. Cucumber maybe. Could we get some cucumber sandwiches, dear?”

“You’re a vegetarian?” Dom asks Brian, jotting down notes.

“He’s morally superior to us in every way,” John sighs dreamily, and Rog and Freddie cackle.

“I’m not a strict vegetarian,” Bri clarifies. “But for the sake of the animals and the planet, I try to limit meat when I can.”

Roger adds: “And I order twice as much of it, just to spite him.”

Dominique leads Queen around the portion of Hyde Park where the concert will be held, runs through the itinerary, fields a litany of questions and complaints. And you decide that you like Dom; she’s professional and reserved, yes, but she’s also patient with Freddie, smiles at his jokes, compliments his black-and-yellow striped shirt (“We match, and you remind me of a...oh, what’s the word in English? That bug...it flies around buzzing...buzz buzz...a bee!”), asks him what he’s planning to wear to the show. She assuages Brian, listens to John, takes the time to chat with the women about children, makeup, homes, what it’s like to be in love with rock stars. But Dom mostly ignores Roger, dodges his grins, remains staunchly undazzled. And that would worry you—because Roger loves the chase, you know that firsthand—if he hadn’t already taught you how to trust him, how addictively flawless and exhilarating life with Roger Taylor could be.

When Laszlo begins to fuss in Mary’s grasp, you take your turn holding him; and he blinks up at you with eyes that are wide and clear and seeking, and you find yourself feeling like you always do when you’re around your godson: like maybe you have a stronger opinion about wanting children than you thought you did, like you can’t stop envisioning a baby with Roger’s eyes instead of John’s.

That evening—after leaving Hyde Park, after dinner, after drinks mixed out by the koi pond—as you doze in a sweltering bubble bath and steam curls through the air, you hear Roger’s voice floating from the kitchen downstairs. You rise out of the tub, towel yourself off, slip into a white silk robe as rivulets of bathwater slink down the back of your neck. You tread gingerly towards the kitchen, keep silent so you can hear, lurk in the shadows of the hallway with your palms pressed flat against the wallpaper.

“Hello, is Dominique Beyrand in?” Roger says into the kitchen phone. “I’ve been trying to track her down. Sure, I’ll wait. Thanks.” After a pause, he continues. “Hi, Dom! It’s Roger Taylor, from Queen. The irritating blond one. I was just wondering if you’d happened to stumble across my wallet since this afternoon, I seem to have misplaced it. Oh, you haven’t? Bloody hell. Well, thank you for taking my call. Aw, that’s so kind of you, I’m sure I’ll locate it eventually. I’ve got a terrible habit of losing things. Okay, thanks so much. Goodnight to you too. See you soon. Cheers.” He hangs the phone up as you step into the kitchen. His smile is bright and innocuous. “Hey, baby!”

“Who was that?” Your tone is similarly casual; or so you hope.

“Just Richard Branson’s assistant. That French woman Dominique. I can’t find my wallet and thought I might have left it at Hyde Park, but no dice. Oh well.”

Roger begins rummaging through the drawer full of business cards and address books, tapping his foot, humming to himself. And surely he isn’t trying to avoid my eyes. Your gaze skates over the marble countertop. There, by the refrigerator, just a few feet—a meter, you correct yourself to be properly British—from where Roger stands, is his black leather wallet.

“It’s right there, Rog,” you say, pointing. And now your voice isn’t so nonchalant.

Roger spins to check. “Oh my god, I completely missed it!” He snatches up the wallet with a celebratory chuckle. “I’m such a twit sometimes. You’re too fucking smart, you know that? You’re making me look bad.”

He rushes to you, takes your left hand, bites your knuckles lightly like he did outside Massachusetts General Hospital under dawn skies over two years ago. And then Roger whispers to you, nuzzling your neck scented with lavender soap and doubt.

“Let’s go to bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a knock at the door. John is standing on the front porch of the Surrey house with his hands in his pockets and a vague sort of smile on his face. He’s in a black suit.

“Get ready,” he says. “Do your hair, throw on some earrings. Maybe the pearls Roger got you last Christmas. We’re going shopping.”

“Why do I need to look fancy to go shopping?”

John shrugs, feigning indifference; but the puckish glint in his eyes gives him away. Yet there’s something a little sad and weighty in them too, isn’t there?

Your own eyes narrow. “I’m onto you, bassist.”

He laughs as you tug teasingly at a lock of his downy hair. “You always are.”

John takes you to a dress shop on Bond Street where the corsets trickle with gemstones and the designers all have Italian names: Armani, Prada, Abate, Cerruti, Valentino, Biagiotti. He sinks into a leather chair just outside the fitting room and lights a cigarette, takes a long drag, points to you with the lit end.

“Go ahead. Go wild. It’s a blank check.”

“Really?!” You glance around the shop, your pulse racing. “But I don’t know the occasion. I don’t want to be underdressed or overdressed or whatever. Although I don’t think I’ve ever been overdressed in my life.”

“Yes, you can’t seem to shake those pragmatic service industry roots, can you?” Another drag. “You need a dress and matching shoes. Formal, but not too formal. Think a record company party. Elegant but exciting. Lots of sparkle. Slightly slutty, if you’re so inclined.”

“This is an unconventional bonding activity,” you tell John, trying to conceal your nerves.

“Love, this isn’t something you can fail at,” he says, gently now. “You’re going to look amazing no matter what. So just have fun with it. This isn’t a test. This is one of those adventures you’re always searching for.”

I can promise you that your life will never feel like a cage; that’s what Roger once told you. But maybe you don’t always want to be quite so free, so unmoored. “Okay. But you have to swear to give honest opinions. I don’t want to show up looking like a wombat because you were too nice to say anything.”

John just chuckles to himself, shakes his head, devours cigarette after cigarette.

With the assistance of one of the shop employees, you climb into a pastel pink dress with a full ruffled skirt, an emerald green dress with an empire waist and loose sheer sleeves, a shimmering metallic silvery dress with a form-fitting silhouette. John nods at all of them, wholeheartedly approves, defers to your judgment. He periodically consults his wristwatch as he taps his cigarettes on the rim of an ashtray, and deflects your questions when you ask him why. Then you step out of the fitting room—balanced on gold heels—in a white dress with a hem that hits just above your knees, a halter neckline, a slim keyhole down the center of your chest; and John’s cigarette tumbles out of his fingers.

“That’s the one,” he breathes, soaking it in. Then he asks the employee to cut off all the tags and whips out his wallet. “Toss your old clothes and shoes in a bag. We gotta catch a cab.”

“We’re going straight to the party?”

“We certainly are.”

“What the hell kind of ridiculously lame party starts at 3 p.m.?”

John smirks craftily. “The kind of party we’re going to. Let’s rock and roll, Florence Nightingale.”

John gives the taxi driver an address and you sail through the streets of London, splashing through shallow evaporating puddles, squinting when sunlight ricochets glaringly off the slick pavement. The taxi rolls to a stop outside of a grand stone building with columns and intricate carvings of leaves and flowers. The sign outside reads: Kensington and Chelsea Register Office.

You turn to John. “Who’s getting married?!”

He just smiles, a deep harbor of secrets.

“It’s Fred and Mary, right? Jesus christ, John, you can’t wear white to someone else’s wedding, Mary’s going to strangle me—”

“It’s not Mary’s wedding.”

Slowly, your jaw falls open. “No,” you whisper in disbelief.

John darts out of the taxi, jogs around to your side, and opens the door for you. You gape up at him senselessly, struggling to remember how to form sentences.

“John...this...this is some bizarre and elaborate joke, right?”

“Nope.” He offers his hand, helps you out of the taxi, leads you up the front steps of the Register Office. Inside, everyone is waiting: Freddie and Mary, Brian and Chrissie, Veronica with babbling baby Laszlo, Roger’s mother and sister...and Roger, of course, in his best black suit and bleached blond hair and trademark guaranteed-to-dazzle (unless of course you’re Dominique Beyrand) grin. He flies to you and takes your hands in his.

“You look incredible, baby.”

“Roger, what’s going on...?”

“Don’t freak out,” he commands, and instantly your panic vanishes. There’s a pink rose pinned to his lapel. “I know we don’t feel like we need to get married. I know we agree it doesn’t mean anything.” Is that still true? “So don’t think that this is about trying to trap you or control you or bullshit white picket fences or anything. And of course you can say no, I won’t be mad, no one will hold that against you, we can find some other reason to party. But the simple facts are that I’m a British national with a mansion and a plethora of perpetual royalties and you’re an American here on a work visa, and the law gets a bit thorny in this situation. And I want to make sure you’re taken care of if something happens to me. That you can carry out my wishes. That you can stay here with the band as long as you want to. So, I’ve got your passport and birth certificate and everything else we need...and some overly-enthusiastic witnesses. Are you cool with signing a piece of paper today?”

“Of course she bloody well is!” Freddie exclaims, and everyone laughs. Mary is carrying a basket full of champagne flutes, Chrissie several bottles of pink champagne, Roger’s sister a tub of ice. Brian has been entrusted to chronicle the event with your Canon. Veronica is more giddy than you’ve ever seen her, even more animated than she was at her own wedding. Well, I suppose she doesn’t have to worry about any illicit pregnancies or condemnatory great aunts this time around.

“Okay,” you tell Roger. And you wish you weren’t beaming so broadly your cheeks ache, because it feels a little pathetic to be this happy about an admittedly meaningless wedding. But it does make you happy, your general aversion towards conventionality be damned.

You sign papers and you toast glasses and you giggle uproariously in the lobby of the Register Office with the best friends you’ve ever had, guzzle pink champagne, pose for photos, take your turn holding Laszlo, kiss Roger beneath the stone arch of the centuries-old building.

It doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, suddenly very aware of the missing weight of a ring on your left hand. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything.

But you catch a few furtive glances between Chrissie and Bri, the twist of a frown on Freddie’s face when he thinks no one is watching, the distance in John’s shadowy eyes as he inhales champagne like air.

It doesn’t mean anything.

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bexterbex · 4 years

Text

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 14

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

Masterlist

Just a reiteration, none of the government officials are based off a specific real person. They are all old privileged men. I do not want to date this fic in that way. I am trying to base their political standings off of the majority of their country's beliefs. They are not progressive, but they are harshly conservative.

Also, I may be later in posting the next few days or may not be able to post, my Tumblr @bexterbex will have a post on whether or not I can post that day. My sister is getting ready to have baby #3 and I am with her assisting with her other 2 and cleaning house. Sorry for any future inconvenience.

Chapter 14: Dirty Politics

Entering the war room once again, everyone shifted uncomfortably as you two entered. Kylo’s demeanor shifted into one of strength and power, with underlying tones of anger. You took your seats once more ready to begin. Kylo now held your hand above the table as a silent way to dare anyone in the room to disrespect you.

“Shall we begin,” asked Hux.

Kylo nodded in response.

“The Finalizer will arrive late tonight, early tomorrow morning to help with the demands of registration and the health regime. Currently, we need to help evaluate an addition to the education system to increase overall hygiene here on the surface,” said Hux.

With this Prime Minister of Australia scoffed, “our people are not unclean, I think the First Order is overstepping its bounds with telling people how to clean themselves.”

“Currently over 700 million people are living in extreme poverty. 8.9 percent of your population are defecating in non-hygienic places, unvaccinated children are on the rise in your first world countries, are just but a few issues the Earth has with health,” said a male first order officer. “Does this not concern you that almost one-seventh of the world's population is without almost any health care? That disease may spread overnight?”

“Sub Saharan Africa and the poor areas of Asia are not my concern,” said the Australian Prime Minister.

“Were you not asked to help represent all of the governments of your world,” asked General Hux, daring the prime minister to defy him.

“Yes, the prime minister did agree to that,” said the Chancellor of Germany.

“The U.S. government’s own Center for Disease Control reported that 35 percent of women and 69 percent of men do not wash their hands after using the restroom. A basic hygiene principle that is shared across the galaxy. Obviously, Earth does need education on hygiene as it would help stop any of these outbreaks that you have been known to have,” said another female officer.

The Prime Minister of Russia scoffed, “we are not unclean.”

“I don’t believe they were suggesting you were unclean, but that the majority of Earth was unclean,” you replied.

“There is also the discussion of reproductive health, all First Order planets have adequate birth control and access to feminine hygiene products. Which we can see from the data, your planet seems to be lacking in all these areas and will need to be justified,” said the female officer.

“Birth control and feminine hygiene product? Now this is ridiculous,” said the U.S. President. “There will be no need for the First Order being involved in that. Besides periods are not an important medical issue.”

This made you a bit angry, but fortunately enough for the President, it was General Hux who spoke first, “The First Order merely wants those who would like these products to be able to receive them.”

“Yes, and I suppose you want our women to become common First Order whores with this access to birth control,” asked the almost now enraged Russian Prime Minister. Staring directly at you.

This conversation made your blood boil. He was now insinuating exactly what he was thinking earlier about you. Kylo’s grip on your hand tightened. You could hear him snort through the vocoder, “Certainly your wife will be of no use to us, but a healthy self-controlled population is necessary. After all, I believe it is also common here on Earth that you are born from women, and I believe you have not advanced enough for the use of clones.”

With this statement, the Russian Prime Minister stood up enraged. “What you do with your ha-“ he wasn’t able to complete his sentence before he was grabbing at an invisible hand around his neck, choking the air out of him. All eyes on him.

General Hux next to you turned to Kylo pleaded, “Supreme Leader, I might suggest that you release him. It would not look good to the Russian people if you killed their prime minister and they are not a country we can afford not to be cooperative.”

You turned to Kylo, desperate to find his eyes through his mask as he turns to you. “Release him.” In an instant, the prime minister dropped to the floor gasping for air. The U.S. President and Australian Prime Minister helping him back into his seat. All of the government officials in the room looked terrified.

You had no idea what just happened. You didn’t really know how Kylo did what he did, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that he did it in the first place. Before you could speak, Kylo addressed the room.

“You and your people will follow the will of the First Order, my will as Supreme Leader. I will leave health decisions to a committee that I have designated. They will bring forward their proposals and I will either approve or disapprove them from there. This discussion and meeting are over. See to it during tomorrow's meetings that you all control yourselves or there will be consequences for your people,” and with that, he stood and he leads you to stand as well. He guided you out the door without another word. You did not stop at the red sitting room again, instead, he lead you out of the White House and into his command shuttle.

You sat down and before you could even start to buckle yourself he was doing it for you. You could feel the silent pent up anger radiating off of him. He barked a harsh order to the pilot to take you back to the Steadfast.

The ride up was in total silence, but he took you hand in his once more. Once you docked, he was quick to unbuckle you both. Quickly guiding you both through the hangar and the halls, not stopping for the official salute. You quickly found him leading you not to his chambers but to the room that he had shown you. The door quickly opened and you two rushed in. Before the door could completely shut, his helmet was off and tossed to the side making a loud thud against the durasteel.

Kylo’s back was against the star side windows—sitting. His face in one hand and the other holding itself out to you. His breathing was labored again, you feared what was behind his eyes.

You took his hand and he pulled you down into him. His face buried in your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around you—he was holding back a sob. Your hand found its way into his hair as the other to his lower back. You began to rub circles trying to calm him.

“Kylo,” you said softly.

He was looking at you now, “I am a monster, don’t you see? You shouldn’t stay with me, or you will get hurt too.”

“What was it that you said before? The Force brought me to you, why would I leave if it chose me for you?” This time you tucked yourself into his chest, refusing to move.

After a few minutes, his breathing calmed and he wound a gloved hand in your hair, holding you to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tilted you head up to meet his eyes. “Whoever hurt you before doesn’t matter. I am here let me help you. Whether it’s to keep your temper in check, helping with work, or anything else that is why I am here.” You place a hand over his heart and one of his joins yours.

“I had to protect you. I have to protect you, do you understand? Without you, I will self destruct. Taking everyone with me,” said Kylo while placing a hand under your chin. His thumb ghosting over your cheek.

“I know, but thoughts can’t harm me, only actions can. Defend me against actions. I like that you are trying to be a knight in shining armor but I am also a big girl who can handle herself. Especially against gross old men. When their thoughts turn into actions, then you can swoop in and save me.” You tucked yourself back into his chest, you both just sat there while time seemed to stop.

“I need you by my side helping me with Earth. The politicians are stubborn and archaic. It's a large planet with a big population. The biggest the First Order has conquered yet, but your people are unhealthy and uneducated,” said Kylo finally.

“Why don’t we go and try to figure out some of this together. I know you said you were going to appoint a committee, why don’t we try to do that now. Get it out of the way, and relieve some stress,” you suggested.

Kylo simply nodded. You stood up, and so did he. He pulled you back to his chest once more and buried his face in your hair. You stood like that for several moments before he separated from you. He retrieved his helmet and once again you were off into the winding halls of the Steadfast.

You reach a room you have never been to, once inside it was a large empty conference room. Kylo walked over to one of the computer panels on the wall and started typing in commands.

“We will wait for the generals and officers to come back, in the meantime you and I will eat lunch.”

A droid appeared with plates of food and you and Kylo ate lunch in the conference room. One finished the droid took everything back.

A junior officer entered the room and informed you that the generals and officers would be here shortly as their shuttle had just arrived. Moments later they filed through the door, quickly taking seats and seemingly ready for a bomb to go off.

“We are going to discuss the health regime committee first and then I believe we should discuss other areas of education. The earth is a mess with citizen on citizen violence that will be stopped,” said Kylo.

“Well, the hygiene committee will be something easy to tackle. Mostly it should be filled with First Order medical staff, someone from the CDC and the WHO. Unlike the politicians I believe that average citizens and the Earth’s medical professionals will agree with a better health campaign,” you said.

“When the Finalizer docks tonight I can ask their chief medical officer to put together a group of nurses and doctors from both ships to start the committee,” said General Hux.

“Inform them that a visual campaign will help, videos and posters. Literally everywhere. Children will be the easiest to influence, adults will be harder,” you said.

The officers were noting your comments. “This CDC and WHO are reputable,” asked General Pryde.

“Yes, unfortunately, most of the time people only listen to them when there is an Ecoli outbreak in lettuce and not when it comes to washing hands and receiving vaccines. But I digress at the ignorance that is my own people,” you replied.

“So they will understand the need that we have for making this planet healthy? That the citizens must be healthy,” asked another officer.

“Yes, as far as I am aware, doctors on my planet take oaths to health and the safety of patients and potential patients. They also will believe in the science behind it, when given facts and studies. I have yet to meet a doctor that doesn’t want their patients to bathe regularly, to receive vaccinations, to have regular checkups. That is something doctors want,” you said.

“General Hux will inform the chief medical officer of the Finalizer of what is to happen. Tomorrow the committee will be formed before 10:00 hours and will by the end of the day have a start to a more solid campaign,” said Kylo.

He then turned to you and asked, “Will you help with the health committee?”

“Yes,” you respond.

“Supreme Leader, we must also be aware that there must be an education started once all registration is completed. As of now we have currently completed the registration of 27% of the population has been registered to date and 98% of the registered have started their education process,” said general Hux.

“Yes, behavioral education along with the standard education must be important. We should hold off for two or three days to see where the health education committee is, that can always be put as a main focus to then share a behavioral one,” said Kylo.

The mention of behavioral training piqued your interest. What need was there for behavior training? And what would it involve? Public health was something you were comfortable sharing but if Kylo could read minds what would happen in this behavioral training. You silently hoped you would be able to shape or sway this. If you learned anything from movies, an overpowered government did not allow freedom, and freedom of thought was the most important thing you could think of.

“But I would like General Pryde to investigate what already might be available for behavioral training education at the main library in the U.S.-“ Kylo turned to you to help answer.

“The Library of Congress,” you supplied.

“Yes, the Library of Congress. There should be something there worth our time.” With that Kylo dismissed the officers before you were left alone General Hux approached you.

“Here is your dog tags my lady. They will grant you access all over any First Order ship and if you happen to be separated from the Supreme Leader it will grant him the ability to find you,” and with that he handed you a set of angular looking dog tags that had a visible tracker chip and circuitry on the back. He soon left. You were now alone again with Kylo.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo x reader #kylo x you #star wars #first order #star wars imagine #Star wars soulmate au #sw first order imagine #sw #sw sequels #armitage hux #enric pride

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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remember when devin grayson wrote about green arrow flirting with teenager dick grayson and then bruce and dick have an incestuous relationship............................

Listen, I have no idea what this ask says, I just see a string of random letters followed by dot dot dot.

In completely unrelated matters, the only dynamic between Dick and Ollie I abide by is one where the nicest thing Dick’s ever said to Ollie is something like “hey why does your face look like you killed a squirrel and glued it to your chin, is that what you were going for or do people just not like you and so nobody ever told you til now that that’s what it looks like.”

And even there, that’s still just the best Dick could manage (or was willing to even aim for) after Bruce gave Dick a totally and one hundred percent genuine and sincere Talking To about how he needed to be more polite to Ollie. Cuz the way I envision it, all that’s after Dick initially opened with something like, idk, “hey wanna hear a funny joke, it goes “what do you call a known Errol Flynn fanboy who thinks putting on a domino mask when he fights crime with a bow and arrow like, magically makes his goatee invisible? A dumbass who doesn’t get how secret identities work, that’s what. Get it, its you, you’re the joke.”

LOL for the record, I don’t actually hate Ollie and have no really strong opinions on him one way or another, it usually just depends on how he’s being written in whatever story or issue I’m reading with him. Its just canon that Ollie is like, one of the few people that Dick just openly can not stand, pretty much, with this stretching back far enough that personally, I like to headcanon it goes all the way back to even before Ollie took Roy in and has absolutely nothing to do with Roy whatsoever.

Idk, its just really fucking funny to me to picture that like, for whatever reason, ten year old Dick Grayson decided upon meeting the Justice League that they were all awesome except for Oliver Queen. Dick doesn’t know why, he doesn’t care why, he just knows that like, “I do not care for that Oliver Queen guy, not one bit, and no, I am not open to constructive criticism on this matter, UGH BRUCE STOP TELLING ME I SHOULD AT LEAST TRY AND BE NICER TO HIM, I SAID HE WAS A BUTTFACE AND I MEANT IT, WHERE’S THE CONFUSION.”

Because see, while Ollie is not Actually The Worst, he IS one of the League heroes who is prideful and petty enough to like, absolutely take offense to someone hating his guts for no discernible reason, while considering this more than reason enough to hate their guts right back. Even if that particular someone happens to have both miles and years left to go before they hit either puberty or the top side of five feet tall, and thus in the meanwhile, Ollie must literally lower himself in every sense of the word in order to return fire at his pint-sized and prepubescent critic.

Like, if Dick for whatever reason decided he just doesn’t like Superman or the Flash and he’s not gonna and you can’t make him, then I mean, Clark or Barry or someone else along those lines would just be like, oh, okay, that’s fair I guess. No, its totally fine Bruce, the adorable little human incarnation of glitter, cotton candy and all things Cute and Precious and Wee that you just took in is allowed to hate me if he wants to, its absolutely *wheezing sob* not a big deal. I’m a big boy, I don’t need you to intercede on my behalf with him. Now if anyone needs me, I’ll be wallowing in my room for the next 84 years, trying to figure out if I was some kind of monstrous puppy-kicker in a previous lifetime and that’s why my fate here in this one is to be despised by a ten year old with the superpower of Absolute Preciousness. Its my punishment, clearly, for being just the worst kind of monster to ever exist, the only kind that could actually be hated by someone like your adorable little Fun-Sized sidekick of joy and sunshine and l-l-laughter......no, don’t look at me, I’m hideous! *bursts into tears and scurries away to hide from the light*

But see now, Ollie, on the other hand, like.....he’s not a monster but he’s not about to let even some paragon of preciousness go around painting him as one. Why the fuck does he spend so much money on publicists if he’s just gonna roll over belly-side up the first time one of the people bad-mouthing him just happens to be like, a toddler instead of the usual TMZ?

So Ollie’s not about to admit that he’s actually miffed and even a little bit wounded that this cherub who seems to like even most supervillains more than he likes Ollie, just like, can not seem to be in his presence longer than sixty seconds before drawing his weapons and stabbing Ollie with words that hurt, dammit, because he has feelings too, y’know, he spent a lot of money on pricey therapists figuring out that yes, those are feelings he’s feeling and he can even name some of them.....

Like, he’s not quite on board with actually ACKNOWLEDGING that hey this stings, and that he really just wants to know what the hell this kid’s deal is and why don’t you like me, tiny human, what did I ever even do to you??? But all of that is like......Advanced Level Therapy stuff that he hasn’t quite gotten around to finishing yet at this point in time. Like yeah he’s already dropped a mint on the A-list of the head-shrinking world by now, but apparently he was supposed to keep coming back or something like that, they all keep making a really big deal about that for some reason, and look, he’s been busy. So he really just hasn’t had the time to finish up the course on How To Make Peace With the Fact That Sometimes Tiny Humans Don’t Like Me Even Though I’m A Fucking Delight, Dammit.

But even if the why of this kid getting under his skin so much eludes him for the nonce, Ollie is perfectly clear on one thing: he doesn’t typically go around making enemies of the twelve and under set, but if you prick him, he doth in fact bleed, you little prick. So if this knee-high nightmare is gonna keep coming at me and trying to start shit, then I am more than willing to throw down, is basically Ollie’s take here.

“He wants to dance? Then c’mon, let’s do this thing. We can dance if he wants to. I’ve got the time,” Ollie says to himself and any other nearby Justice Leaguer who might be looking at him with that swiftly-becoming-familiar expression of mingled judgment, pity, exasperation and something a bit more ambiguous but which probably lands somewhere in the ballpark of “We honestly don’t know what to make of all of this but we’re all a little concerned This Is Not A Good Look, Bro. And also, we would like to formally request by way of this petition with all 200+ signatures of Leaguers and auxiliary members and support staff: please don’t escalate this into something where Batman might actually kill you, because that’s definitely not gonna make any of this less awkward for the rest of us, and uh....not to be indelicate here, but all those times we’ve all said things like no Ollie, we don’t think Bruce is a better fighter than you and we absolutely agree with you, you could totally maybe take him in a fair fight if you had your bow and arrows on you and he had the flu probably.....like. Umm. How to put this....Okay, soooooo....here’s the thing. There may, perhaps, ever so slightly be a possibility slash definite hardcore certainty that there were fib-like qualities to those conversations. A little bit. Oh hey, look at the time, we gotta run, there’s a fire somewhere, hopefully. Lol wait whoops did we say hopefully, that’s so weird like where did that even come from. We definitely meant to say probably. There’s a fire somewhere, probably."

But look, at the end of the day, the thing is, Headcanon Ollie is not like, proud of any of this, but he’s not unproud of it either. He is hashtag justified and he wouold appreciate some validation of that Ugly Truth, even if it might go against the grain and not ever exactly be a POPULAR opinion with the “please don’t tell the ten year old that nuh uh, his face looks like a hairy butthole, nobody wins there, that is not the victory you are looking for” crowd.

Honestly though, at this point Ollie’s list of Big Asks is quite small. Miniscule, even. All he wants, all he really really wants, is for someone, anyone, to join him in grasping the one essential corn kernel at the heart of this whole clusterfuck. The thing that nobody but Ollie seems to get and that Ollie’s pretty sure would be enough to allow him to die happily, if he could just manage to find one other person to sign on to the one single extremely obvious observation he keeps trying to point out to everyone, with a whole lot of nada to show for it:

Because see, the one thing about all of this that drives Ollie just absolutely up a wall, is that for some reason he can’t seem to get anyone to understand that like.....this whoooooole ridiculous mess, just like, even in terms of its very existence in the first place?

None of it is Ollie’s fault.

Dick started it!

Mere moments after frustratedly trying to convey this to Dinah for the umpteenth million bajillionth time:

“Okay, could you at least say something?” Ollie asked exasperatedly. “Anything? Seriously, I would take you counting to ten in Cantonese as an acceptable response at this point.”

“I’m just trying to decide which concerns me more,” Dinah said at last. Several epochs and the equivalent of the entire Jurassic Period later. But whatever, its not like Ollie was holding his breath at this point or anything. “The fact that you are genuinely trying to find and occupy the moral high ground in your feud with....a ten year old. Or that you actually think you’ve found it. That this is it, this is what that looks like. ‘The ten year old started it.’”

That was apparently all Dinah had to say. She fell silent again, and said silence lingered through a recreation of now the entire Cretaceous Period, before continuing into a revival of the whole Paleozoic Era from start to torturous finish.

“Well?” Ollie said with a patience that belied the urgency of the many pressing matters he had to attend to. Like the vanquishing of a ten year old archnemesis most foul.

Dinah just continued to frown pensively.

“Hang on, I’m still deciding.”

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queen-of-my-goofball-army · 3 years

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So as most of you know, I have been trapped in Haikyuu hell thanks to my boyfriend for the last week and a half. I'm already midway through season two but I'm taking a bit of a break from binging to get my sixth episode in my cartoon script out by next weeks end. For those of you that talk to my religiously (my boyfriend, or my best friend Tara of @targaryens-blog) then this OC will already be familiar to you! If not I wanted to introduce her to all of you as well as some of my favorite HC ideas for her and her canon partner.

Aratani is a student at Nekoma who went there with a specific goal in mind. Before she won best female libero in her prefecture, she met a boy that occupied all her thoughts through her best friend Bokuto. That boy was, of course, my best boi Tetsurou Kuroo. Her first early morning practice she runs into the object of her affections and the rest was as they say history.

Aratani is a more... reckless libero and she often gets hurt trying to go after seemingly impossible balls and managing to get injured with cuts, bruises, and scars along the way. She has a scar on her right hand from a beach volleyball incident. She is naturally a bit more quiet then her best friend. She isn't as loud or chaotic without Bokuto. She's a lot more reserved and shy in fact when he isn't around her. But when he is around her hoo boy the chaos is real. Their one on ones could literally last for hours without either of them taking a break unless one or both of their significant others stop them.

Aratani also loves video games! This makes her really close with Kenma something that I wanted to do because if you date Kuroo automatically Kenma has to fit in there somewhere. I HC Kenma as on the spectrum mainly because of how quiet he is and how obsessed with video games he is. They are a remarkably common special interest of those that are on the autism spectrum.

She is also Bokuto's next door neighbor! They met when she was six and they've been besties ever since that day. He was the one who taught her everything that she knows about volleyball as a sport. They're those friends that tell each other literally everything because both of them are on the mental health spectrum (more on that later!)

For my HCs if you want to stay that long they will be behind the read more line!

HC time!

Her with Kuroo:

*Her and Kuroo have that relationship where nobody understands how it works except for them. To the outside world they're complete opposites but to each other, they're perfect.

*If there is anybody in the relationship that knows they are in charge it's Aratani. Kuroo would willingly follow her anywhere that she wanted to go (Kenma always jokingly tells him that he's such a whipped simp for his gf but he just loves her so much and that's the tea sis.)

*Kuroo absolutely, 1 billion percent, screams like a woman. If you want an example, Tara told me that he screams like Jonah Hill does in The Accepted. I died laughing.

*He is also terrified of bugs. Even the little ones have him quaking in terror and screaming for Aratani to get rid of them.

*Aratani is insanely strong. Like she's small but could totally kick your ass and everybody knows it. Most of the Nekoma volleyball team is terrified of her, especially Lev because damn does Tani have a mean glare. Most of the time though she loves her best friends.

*She starts off incredibly shy but once you get to know her you find out that she's stubborn, cocky, confident, boisterous. Kuroo loves all these different sides of her his favorite is definitely her confident side. He loves that she doesn't let anybody get to her. Whenever people talk down to her she'll just come at them ten times harder (he also finds this part of her massively sexy-somebody please help him LMAO)

*Not only does Kenma have autism, but it is of my general experience and consensus that Akaashi has aspergers. You can pry this HC from my cold dead fingers.

*Aratani loves Disney. She's that Disney fan that prefers the older films and she could watch Brother Bear a million times more than she already has and still not be tired of it. Her other favorite is one of my underrated faves The Happiest Millionaire. Her and Kuroo's first official date was to Tokyo Disneyland when her aunt had a showcase.

*She could spend hours playing with Kuroo's hair. It doesn't matter what they're doing but she just loves when he rests his head in her lap and plays with his hair.

*Going along with the hair HC Kuroo is obsessed with hers. He's always preferred girls with longer hair but the second she took her hair out of her bun that she uses for volleyball when he first met her he was stricken with her.

*Aratani radiates little spoon energy. Even if she was taller she still would because as strong as she is she loves being comforted.

*When I write for them I see them as Annabeth and Percy in the Percy Jackson books. I feel like that gives them a sold mood in general.

Her with Bokuto:

*Bokuto has borderline personality disorder. He also has ADD. His lows get super low so she has to be there for him. She loves being there to support and love her best friend. *They are absolutely the two people who sing to Disney songs while on the ride. Especially if the song is catchy. The only one where they don't is Small World because usually Aratani cries on that ride. She loves the song and it makes her really emotional. *Bokuto actually writes his own songs. It's how he expresses himself when he's at a low point. Aratani sings the songs that he writes for his Instagram.

*Platonic. Cuddle. Besties. That's all. They are super clingy with each other during their movie nights because they've been friends for so long.

*No matter what she can always count on Bo to be there before anybody else even Kuroo. He'll just run to her no matter how far he is.

*They could literally spend days together just hanging out and most of their summers are spent at Aratani's backyard swimming in her backyard.

*Bo is Aratani's go to taste tester for sweets. She loves to bake for him mostly because it's something that makes him happy.

*(His favorite of her sweets is her mint chip brownies)*He us also the king of braiding her hair. He loves to just play with her curls especially since it's calming to him.

*Bo loves to watch her play video games. He could just rest against her as she plays Kenma in Mario Kart. Video games are something that he's never been the best at but he could just rest next to her.

#hq OC #kuroo tetsurou #hq bokuto

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faedawayyy · 3 years

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part 1

THINGS YOU PROBABLY DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT MY CHARACTERS THAT ARE ABSOLUTELY CANON. IT’S JUST HOW THEY FEEL, GO AWAY.

BASICALLY, this is a masterlist of things i want people to know about them but they’d never necessarily say or show outloud bc most of them as stubborn as fuck.

DALLAS

he doesn’t regret or hate any of his exes at all. he is completely indifferent towards liana and gisele, still loves soraya and has a kind of up-down mood towards riley and zara. ruby’s a friend.

he believes he’ll end up with soraya...like one thousand percent. she’s the only person he’s loved.

charlie, matt and evan are the only people he’d give the label of ‘true friends’ and it definitely isn’t what he would’ve expected a few years ago.

his weakness is people feeling proud of him. like that’s something he craves constantly and when it happens, or you show it genuinely, you’re most likely to get through to him.

his natural coping mechanism is to act out; some people shut down/drink/take drugs. the more extreme dallas’s behaviour is and the harsher he’s behaving, the more you know he’s hurting/in a bad place.

definitely the victim of a serious god complex. he believes with his whole heart that some of his worst work is still better than a lot of peoples best (so do i cause im a bieber fan LOL)

he’s intelligent - scarily so...he got into several top colleges after high school including yale (where he attended for half of a semester/term), oxford and UCL.

before his dad’s debt engulfed his family, he had a really good relationship with him and played multiple sports including hockey and golf.

he can’t picture himself living past 30...or 27 some days.

biggest character flaw EASILY is not knowing how to ask for or accept help. it’s been the root of ALL of his bad decisions and shitty actions.

this literally isn’t a secret but he doesn’t give up. if you push him, he’ll push back harder and would sooner escalate a situation than be the one to walk away.

he does everything in his power to not have to sleep in his family home.

a cute hidden quality - he’s shockingly very good with children

a shit hidden quality - a lot of his choice of girlfriend’s have to do whether he finds them physically attractive or not. if it’s an ‘or not’, chances are he won’t even consider it.

his personality type is estp - bold, practical, original, direct, insensitive, risk-prone, unstructured, defiant

he is HIGHLY impulsive and quick to act on feelings. back to his exes, this has often made him feel like he loves people that he definitely doesn’t.

he’s actually HUGELY affectionate and that’s the tell tale sign of who he likes and who he doesn’t. if you’ve known him and he’s never acted soft/affectionate, he didn’t care in the first place.

he’s one million percent had his heartbroken. he’ll tell you he hasn’t all day.

conflicting with his god complex is crushingly low self-esteem when it comes to things like being worth of peoples time/energy/genuine interest beyond just being funny/hooking up with.

silent reassurance is a thing for him. he’ll check that someone he’s comfortable with/loves is there every so often as social events and eye contact/acknowledgement definitely helps

MASON

confrontation and disputes gives him huge anxiety but the carmichael house is the definition of toxic masculinity, so he swallows it and tries to be as rational as possible in arguments.

comparison is a very real thing for him. he compares every element and detail of his life to others; especially the other boys.

he considers madison his first love

his love language is definitely acts of service, if he’s willing to help and work towards something w.you, then he cares.

he is definitely a burnt out over-achiever. he struggles with the concept of ‘reaching his full potential’ and no matter what he does, he doesn’t feel like he’s ever there

between leo and brody, he feels like he was never a child or even young. he’s always had a really wise head on his shoulders and is rarely impulsive. it’s the thing he hates most about himself...yet the thing a lot of people find appealing

if you mention a critically acclaimed movie as your favourite, it gives him a bad first impression of you LOL

he struggles to show emotion more than the others, who tend to act out and make rash decisions. i doubt anybody’s seen him cry ever.

he didn’t peak in high school but he 100% misses who he was back then

nostalgia is something that consumes him sometimes - if he’s shared a deep connection or memories with you, he won’t forget about you

he’s literally never been on the wrong side of the law but police sirens make him anxious

he never wants to be turn out like his dad, but also wants everything his dad created and had and it’s his biggest dilemma

dogs are and have always been his favourite animal

organisation is a big thing to him. people probably assume kendall is the one who keeps things in check in their apartment, but it’s totally him. cabinets, wardrobes, shelves and everything...he can’t leave it alone if it’s disorganised

he struggles being spoken down to or feeling like he’s being patronised. it’s the quickest way to piss him off

he over-thinks everything, even if it doesn’t feel like it

his worst habit is nail biting. he even had the stuff you put on your fingers as a kid and it didn’t squash it

he’s vegetarian

if he wasn’t a carmichael, he definitely would’ve gone backpacking and worked from place to place after school but his dad definitely wouldn’t have approved

feeling useful to people is something that makes him feel self-worth

it’s very rare for him to quit ANYTHING. if he’s committed, he’ll be in it until it comes to a natural end or just forever

NATE

an actual clean freak. he hates mess.

he doesn’t know if imogen is/was his first love but he definitely considers her his soulmate

when he falls for someone, he falls HARD and will definitely give up some of his own values or change to impress somebody

he has a lot of opinions and ideas but finds it hard to articulate them, he’s always found it easier to fall into the ‘hot guy’ trope and it’s got him far enough so he can’t complain

he’s lowkey into zodiac signs and astrology but wouldn’t ever outwardly show it

he’s VERY domestic; cooking, cleaning handy-work etc. are all strong points of his. it’s rare you’ll find any space he’s living in a mess

he’s a romantic but quietly. the amount of time he spends thinking about dating/his love life/his future wife/kids scares him sometimes

if he shouts, he’s not even that mad. when he gives up and just let’s someone go off/or he walks off, that’s usually when he’s hit rock bottom with someone

big hero 6 is his favourite movie but he says black panther because it’s more acceptable to most LOL

he suffers with health anxiety; not working out properly, or eating too much junk food will send him on a weird spiral where he’s hard on himself for months

he always smells good. always.

he doesn’t like people who act dumb for attention, it’s probably his pet peeve

his harry potter house is slytherin, i took the test for him.

he loves all of his sisters but is definitely the closest to evie, it may have something to do with them being the youngest of the 5.

the thought of having to play any board game upsets him a lot

if he sleeps over at anybody’s house, he has to bring his own pillow. most people who know him have just accepted it

even now he’s older, his parents are very much his parents - he hasn’t got that friendly vibe some people get with their parents once they pass 20.

he’s a pretty good chameleon. he can shift and change depending on the crowd he’s with without being too obvious

#dallas musings #mason musings #nate musings

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yourlocalauthor · 4 years

Text

Bad Timing

Pairing: Topper x Fem! Kook! Reader

Summary: Topper goes to the reader’s house after events of midsummers. Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: cursing? Mentions of weed, um idk that’s might be it A/N: I definitely didn’t make a whole fic based off of a song Austin North’s sister made... hope wouldn’t be me. Also I promise my next fic is going to be JJ. i think this is the first time i’ve written something in the canon timeline so yay

Request are open!

You had always had a little crush on Topper, even before you actually knew what love was. You were the type of kids who’d say they were married at the ripe old age of five, before you even understood the concept of marriage. When you two were in third grade he said he was going to marry you, and you promised him that you would. At some point, his crush stopped and yours continued. You felt guilty being his best friend, and crushing on him. Towards the end of your middle school career it stopped, and then freshman year you started dating Kelce. Slowly after that you and Topper began to drift. You still hung out, considering you guys were a part of a whole friend group together, but it was different. You didn’t spend hours deep into the night staring at the stars as you babled about the galaxy, and how it was so huge, and how slim the chances were for you two to know each other but you did. There were no late night facetime sessions, of the two of you talking about the future. A part of you was sad, but people grow apart and change. You were no longer the shy little girl who hid behind her big sister, and he was no longer the sweet sensitive boy you once knew. Sometime he began dating your best friend Sarah Cameron, and you were happy for him. At the beginning of summer you and Kelce broke up. You two both realized that you had grown apart as a couple and it was just better to be friends.

It was too late, too fucking late for you to hear a knock at the door. It wasn’t even a knock it was more of a banging. You grabbed the makeshift knife stick, that you totally didn’t get inspired by Scream to make. It looked stupid yeah, but to quote the show it was meant to create distance between you and your attacker. Of all the times your parents and sister could be gone, this definitely wasn’t one of them. You had already missed Midsummers and now you probably had some dumbass outside your door. You carefully looked out your sister’s bedroom balcony to see any identification of who was there, you could see a car but it was way too dark for you to make out what type. The rain didn’t, practically coming down in sheets and spraying you as you shut the doors. You silently walked down the stairs, carrying your small little makeshift weapon. Your family had tormented you saying how it wouldn’t be necessary for you to use it, oh the irony. You carefully stepped towards the door, leaving soggy footsteps behind. You anxiously pushed the small curtains away, looking out towards your doorstep. And boy was there a sight you never thought you’d see. On your doorstep was one disheveled looking Topper. You unlocked the door quickly, ushering him out of the rain. You shut the door, eyeing him attentively. There were tears in his eyes, and his eyes seemed very puffy and red, his hair was all messed up and the helmet of hair product he typically had was gone. He looked so messed up mumbling something over and over. You gently reached out placing a hand on his arm, looking up at him.

“Top, hey it’s okay.”

You had no idea what you were comforting him for, but you knew it was better to take the gentle route.

“Why don’t you go into the kitchen, and I’ll grab you a change of clothing. Sound good?”

He nodded, trembling but retreated towards the kitchen. You watched him, a look of confusion written across your face. You stood there for a moment longer, watching him take a seat at the kitchen island, you watched him take his seat, the way he carefully pulled back the chair as if he was going to break it. You turned towards the long stairs, going up them a million thoughts going through your head. Why you? Out of everyone Topper could’ve come to, he came to you. He came to someone who he had barely talked to on his own in almost two years. And you couldn’t feel guilty for the only thing running in your mind now. What the fuck did he do? You went into your parents room, sifting through your father's drawers for a pair of sweatpants, and a t-shirt. You weren’t sure if they’d fit, but your father wasn’t exactly huge. At the most they’d be a little loose. You walked back down the stairs, terrified of the silence. He still hadn’t spoken a word to you, and you were terrified by that.

“Hey, here this is some of my dad’s stuff. You know where the bathroom is?”

He gave you another nod, taking the clothing you had stuck out and he carefully tread down the long hallway. You turned on the fluorescent lights, and pulled out a mug for coffee. You filled the pot with water, and the filter with coffee grounds and set it to brew. You looked at the time, sighing as it read 1:57. Too early. You carefully pulled out the sugar, letting the sounds of coffee being made filling the house with sound. You sat on the counter, the cool feeling of granite met with your exposed thighs mentally counting . You heard the bathroom door creak open, and Topper came back taking a seat again. You both sat there silently, until the coffee machine let out a loud beep.

“Coffee?”

“What?”

“Coffee do you want some?”

“Oh um no… thanks.”

You nodded, turning back to the pot taking it out and pouring the dark amber liquid into your mug. You pulled the milk out, and poured it into your cup along with some sugar. You took a small sip, the hot liquid slipping into your mouth. It left a trail as it went through your throat burning your tongue.

“So, what happened?”

“I-“

You could see the panic, from earlier had returned to his face. And maybe a look of panic had spread across your face too. Just from his tone of voice, you knew things were bad.

“Top, it’s okay. Whatever happened I’m sure it’ll be fine in the morning. You don’t even have to talk about it.”

“No, I need to… I- shouldn’t. I shouldn’t even be here, I’ve got to go. Thanks for the clothes, I can bring them tomorrow or I can go change now. I’m so sorry for bothering you, especially this late, or early in the morning. I’m just sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

He quickly stood up, pushing his chair back to leave. And just as he stood up, you were up from your spot ushering him back down.

“No Topper! You’ve got to be out of your mind, thinking I’ll let you out especially in this state, with the weather like that. Just sit down and we’ll talk, okay?”

“Okay…”

“So walk me through what happened, just take your time.”

You said taking the seat next to him…

He told you everything, from his suspicions to Sarah cheating, to the fight at the kegger at the Boneyard, to the day Sarah went radio silent, to Midsummer and John B, to him catching Sarah and John B at the Hawk’s Nest, and then finally to him pushing John B off the tower. It was a lot to take in, part of you was angry at Sarah she was your best friend why wouldn’t she come to you? But you had heard about the fight at The Boneyard. That was definitely Topper’s fault, Hawk’s Nest was partly all three of their faults. The worst thing about the whole cheating thing was, Sarah cheated on Topper with a Pogue. She should’ve known how much worse it would be to him if he found out. You didn’t care about the whole Kooks vs Pogues thing, it felt like the plot of a cheesy 80s movie, and you knew Sarah didn’t care either, but Topper did. And it broke your heart to see him like those, crying over the fact that his girlfriend cheated on him. You knew he cared about her, even if he didn’t really show it.

It was now closer to three. Your coffee was gone, and now the two of you were sitting in your kitchen in silence. You hated silence, you weren’t sure why but it made you feel unsettled. Your mom and dad always told you that you talked too much, maybe that's why, always wanting to fill the silence. But for once you had nothing to say, you used to be so good at comforting Topper and now there was nothing you could say.

“I should get home.”

“It’s too late.”

“I’ll be fine, besides I don’t want to inconvenience you any longer.”

“You’re not an inconvenience, you know that right?”

Silence. You turned your head looking for something to indicate what he was thinking. You could tell he had something to say. He was doing that thing where he presses his lips together and looked down trying to contain whatever he wanted to say.

“Out with it.”

“What?”

“Say what’s on your mind.”

“What if he’s dead?”

“I don’t think he is.”

“Why?”

“The cops would be here by now, your car is parked in the middle of my driveway.”

“What if they didn’t report it yet?”

“Then his little friends would be here, they’d stalk the neighborhood looking for your car to wreck it.”

“Right…”

“I’ve got a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why’d you come to my house? I mean out of all the places you could’ve gone, you came here?

“There’s no one else I could really go to, Rafe would probably lose his shit and only focus on the fact that his sister was mackin’ a Pogue, and Kelce would laugh at me or something like that. Plus you were always great at listening.”

“I never stopped.”

“What?”

“You said were, I never stopped being good at listening.”

“Right.”

“What happened to us? I mean we were such great friends, screw that we were best friends. I mean we were with each other ninety-five percent of the time.”

“I don’t know, I guess we just grew up.”

“Right.”

It was silent between the two of you. You still weren’t convinced you guys just grew apart. It just didn’t make sense for two people who were once so close to just stop hanging around each other.

“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do now.”

“Me neither.”

“It’s late…”

“Yeah.”

“My bedroom still has the extra pull out.”

“Are you sure? I can always stay in the guest room.”

“My sister’s boyfriend has practically moved in there and the place of Monster energy drinks and weed.”

“Oh uh okay.”

You slowly pushed back your chair standing up, and setting the mug in the sink. You motioned for him to follow you, and you walked towards the stairs, and him following as you went up.

“I’m going to brush my teeth, and look for an extra toothbrush. You can just sit on my bed and wait.”

You opened your door for him, before walking into your bathroom. You rummaged through your bathroom, looking for an extra toothbrush. You finally found a pack, from when Kyle had started staying. The idiot kept losing his toothbrush, so your dad went out and bought a twenty pack. Kyle was a tool, but he loved you sister. She was lucky in that sense. You weren’t like that with Kelce, you didn’t really love each other. It was weird when you thought more about the relationship considering you guys had been together for almost two years. Watching your sister fall in love with her dumbass boyfriend, was probably what led you to calling it quits. You finished brushing your teeth, and walked out of the bathroom.

“Toothbrush and toothpaste are on the counter.”

He nodded towards you, and stood up from his place on your bed.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You gave him a smile, before turning towards your bed. You gently knelt onto the ground, fiddling with the bottom mattress. You lifted the platform it was on, and rolled it out. You heard the bathroom door, and stood up turning around.

“Bedsheets are in my closet, you’ll see them once you open it”

“I remember.”

“Right”

You watched him go into your closet pulling the sheets from the top, until something caught his eye.

“Is that the dress you wore to 8th grade graduation?”

He was pointing at a small white lace dress that was clearly way too small for you. You stood up to get a better view, your hand grazing against the material.

“Yeah I think it is.”

“I remember that day.”

“Yeah me too, things were so different.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean.”

“To us, did we seriously just grow apart?”

“I thought we already discussed this.”

“I know but I just want to make sense of it all Top, I mean you were the one who initially stopped answering me. No more late night texts or calls.”

“I don’t know Y/N I just, I guess I got busy with other things. You know the pressure from my dad, and everything.”

“Right…”

“Look I’m sorry about how things ended.”

You nodded carefully looking at him. Part of you wanted to say that it wasn’t the truth that there was more, but you didn’t want to press. You let go of the dress, shutting the closet doors. You walked over to your bed, taking one of the pillows off of your bed.

“Here.”

“Thanks… again for everything.”

“Like I said it’s no problem.”

You gave him one last smile before slipping into your bed. You leaned over shutting off the small little lamp that was illuminating your room, before staring up at the ceiling…

“Y/N”

“Yes Top?”

“You were right, I did stop answering your calls on purpose.”

“Oh… why?”

“I don’t know, I think freshman me was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“At the end of eighth grade I guess I started to have a crush.”

“What?”

“Yeah…”

“That’s funny.”

“Wait what?”

“End of 8th grade is when I started putting away my feelings for you.”

“Wait you liked me?”

“Yeah I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“I didn’t have a clue.”

Silence once again. This felt weirder than before though. Something that you wanted for so long, but now that you knew of it you didn’t know what to feel.

“Where do we go from here?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you still like me?”

“I don’t know maybe… what about you.”

“Quite frankly I’m not sure I stopped.”

You flipped around in your bed, looking over the side. Even though it was dark it felt like your eyes had met, you kept staring at his figure until he sat up. You could see him more clearly now, the small bit of light coming from the beginning of the sunrise helped too. You looked at him, and he looked right back at you and the two of you were just lost in each other’s eyes. You scooched forward, and he leaned closer to you and then you two were kissing. It was a hot and heavy kiss, his hands were behind your head practically pushing you forward, and your long fingers were tangled in his frosted tips. Everything you ever wanted was in this kiss, and you didn’t want it to stop. Soon enough you two needed to pull away for air, you were practically breathless as you leaned back against your mattress looking up at the ceiling once more.

“That was perfect.”

And it truly was. After years of bad timing, you finally got to kiss him and it felt so incredibly perfect. You had never had a kiss like this not with any tourists or even Kelce. You smiled, as you motioned for him to join you on the bed you mind in pure bliss. Years of bad timing had led up to this, and you wouldn’t have preferred it any other way.

#topper thornton #topper #topper outer banks #topper obx #OBX #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #jj maybank

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swedisheek · 3 years

Note

hello stinky i would like to know who is your favourite mechanism and why, i expect a 2k word essay on my desk by friday

ah fuck ah shit they’re all so excellent i will instead list my favorite things about all of them in order of my vague memory of when they joined the crew. also i smell good how dare you. also FYI for anyone not informed about the Lore, all the shit i’m gonna reference below is a hundred percent canonical.

-jonny: has an ego three thousand times larger than his short ass, king of hubris and not understanding anything. loves his sister dearly, but draws the line at random orgies, which i respect. drags corpses onto the ship like a cat bringing home a kill and tells carmilla to fix his new friends. eyeliner and belt game slay me. (four belts? FOUR??) sad and totally made up backstory, he just lied to everyone’s face about his daddy issues and they were like “chill, let’s write a song where you play all the parts and burn down a casino.” eats people sometimes, which is a positive trait in my heart.

-nastya: my god, finally a voice of reason- ah never mind. her vibes are impeccable, my mysterious trans lesbian queen is unique and absolutely vibing <3 “fuck the ship-!” “i do :3″ is my favorite line of dialogue in anything ever. machinefucker and very proud of it, to an almost concerning degree. that one picture where she’s resting two of her fingers on her chin and cocking her hip as she looks up at the sky makes me Yell.

-toy soldier: my beloved it/its inanimate enby ts!! i love it bc it just. vibes. it has so much fun singing and playing instruments and just fucking around with its friends. who would’ve thought the war criminal with a stolen voicebox would be the most babey of this group?? SPEAKING OF ITS VOICE HOLY SHIT. TRIAL BY SONG CAUSES HEART PALPITATIONS. adorable little nutcracker with the saddest fucking backstory infinity/10

-tim: so very very done with jonny but we all know they make out in “secret”. hit that fucking high note as loki so well, my god, he put his whole pussy into that! go gayboy relive that trauma! plays out of tune guitar like a champ and has a ten minute long song dedicated to him blowing shit up, what a power move. excellent hair and long sweeping coats, extremely gender of him.

-brian: ohhh sweet boy. but also totally commits atrocities? like he wouldn’t kill an octokitten that was eating marius alive but he’d let a million people die just so he didn’t have to hurt anyone, and that’s just on mje mode- his morals are so fucked, poor man. also hung upside down inside a sun for a century and respects the hell out of trans people and brings people back to life and those are just a few of my favorite things about him. he fully committed to the steampunk look when he got mechanized and i love that so much. also has the potential to be a tumblr sexyman.

-ashes: ASHES!! ashes ashes ashes. first off what a fucking good name that’s like a murderer naming themself Dead People. they’re the hottest, it’s just a fact, sorry everyone but they are just. mmm. carries around gold bars and cigars and gasoline and nothing else which i respect so much. (though where do they put that stuff? their hat??) sings excruciatingly beautifully and snarks at all the idiots they call their friends and practices the three r’s (rage, repression, and radicalness) so i cannot not love them.

-ivy: mystery wife! her whole thing is stories and yet she doesn’t know her own that’s so fucking pog of her. what does an archivist on a spaceship even do dawg it’s not like the other guys care about the cultures they’re annihilating, i’m pretty sure she just sits in her bunk and reads. why did she need her brain replaced? why does she have such crazy memory problems? how does her new brain calculate all these percentages? we don’t know! she’s very cute and wears fishnets and has a mohawk-ponytail which i adore. play me to sleep on ur flute please miss

-raphaella: twenty points right off the bat for having wings and wearing a knit crop top. what is she going for with her look, we don’t know, but she could do horrific experiments on me and i’d thank her, so it’s working, clearly. alternatively tortures and tops the shit out of marius, i will die on this hill. also a terrifyingly good singer, those little “the void siIings” in losing track make my breathing stop and the entirety of ties that bind is so fucking amazing i. hhhh

-marius: christ i love you mr neither a baron nor a doctor. the other guys are dumb but he’s the himbo of the group just for being That Way. also most of his characters’ (who are also himbos) lines are something along the lines of what the fuck or i don’t understand so i’m gonna punch you. he’s adorable and has such bastard vibes, even his outfit is ridiculous and cute. even though lyf was a cop he deserved to get a happy ending with them ok?? i just love him and his liddol raccoon face and he deserves a slow burn criminal/detective to crew mates to lovers.

OK JEEZ THATS A LOT. ARE YOU HAPPY ALEX. IM NOT GONNA DO AURORA OR CARMILLA BC CARMILLA LEFT AND AURORA NEVER TALKS TO ANYONE BUT NASTYA SO THERES NOT MUCH INFO ON HER PERSONALITY. WOO BOY.

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