#very badly made meme but she just needs to shut the hell up

[hadeswearsprada]

Happy Pride Month lgbtq+ community

#very badly made meme but she just needs to shut the hell up #terf #jk rowling #anti jk rowling #harry potter #lgbtq #lgbt #terfs dont interact

[i-need-air]

King & Queen. – Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader.

Summary: Fluff, Baku being extra while confessing, social media shenanigans.

Word count: 1784.

It's 4 AM, I'm a mess but I needed to get this off my chest. I'm testing the waters with my writings, it's been forever since I wrote anything and I wanted to throw myself a little bit into the fandom I've been obsessed with for the past months. I do hope you enjoy it. ♥

Bakugou Katsuki took pride in having such a large following online. Ever since the first year UA Sports Festival, both his Twitter and Instagram accounts got thousands and thousands of followers, mostly crushing over him and others just hating on him, and in both ways he loved the attention.

The Aesthetics™ he had were always on point and his Twitter was just filled with one sentence tweets, re-tweets of famous heroes, a somewhat dry, dark and/or sarcastic meme from time to time, only and only if it fit (again) his aesthetics. Sometimes he'd engage with the Bakusquad, specially Kaminari and Mina, both very active users, and [Y/N], answering to her tweets with a one word roast and little more.

After the second year UA Sports Festival though? His social media reached the 100k mark, skyrocketing into a small celebrity as he won the first place for two years in a row. But what made him reach such a large number was the way he won. Their battle for the first place was insane, such a difference compared to what he had to deal with Todoroki in the past. [Y/N] put an amazing fight, there's no doubt to that, but the woman overused her quirk and he knew her weakness, mostly since he sometimes (rarely, almost never, pft) observed her train with Icy-Hot or Deku. It was a spectacle to watch and it has even been televised for a whole week afterwards, critics applauding how promising UA's students were. And that's how it all started.

The shipping.

Images and even fucking edited music videos of their fight were everywhere. It was so obvious both of them enjoyed the fight, the little grins they shared as they attacked each other, the small comments both threw and the camera and mics everywhere picked, the look Bakugou Katsuki gave [Y/N] when she kicked his ass. Such an adoration, followed by his insane grin, ready for a challenge. The look [Y/N] gave him, as he took the first place medal with pride from Endeavor, thriving at the applauses from the public. Stars were put to shame compared to the sparks in her eyes. Oh, and the moment their orbs made contact exactly after that? The chemistry.

Bakuy/n was one of their names online, apart from variations of their hero names mixed together. The fandom was slowly picking up a name, mostly going with the first mentioned. And Katsuki? He was fucking aware of everything. Her social media was on radio silence, but this event made him think. Actually think, not half-ass an idea and just throw himself head on into it. And the conversation he overheard was just making him plot now.

Mina and [Y/N] were actually discussing this exact topic. The pink girl was thriving for it. Her Twitter account was now filled with subliminal messages about love and it made her poor friend anxious. Basically because this issue hasn't been addressed at all with Bakugou and she planned to keep it that way. Yet Mina, sweet, adorable, loving Mina was just pressing on it really badly, but thankfully she never did when both sides of Bakuy/n were in the same room/conversation.

"Isn't it like so romantic?" Mina's eyes shined, hands clapped, her gaze looking somewhere in the distance, daydreaming.

"No, it's not, it's weird..." her [h/c] haired friend answered, falling more into the couch of their living quarters, trying to hide from the world.

"It would be if it wasn't obvious you pin for each other!"

"Oh, god, please stop saying that."

"You're not denying it though!"

"MINA!"

Laughter coming from the pinkette filled the room as the blond man decided not to interrupt and leave, small grin on his face as [Y/N]'s groans just told him what he needed to hear. She definitely did not deny the attraction and whatever chemistry they had.

Which leads to the current situation.

The girl was sitting in the cafeteria, waiting for Ochaco and Mina to come around, phone in hand as she scrolled mindlessly through Twitter, watching as her most recent tweet, the first one in ages, was getting attention. She giggled at Denki's stupidity, as he just posted a selfie of himself drenched in Diet Coke clearly in the UA bathrooms. Checking his replies she saw the boy she's been [kinda, lowkey, just a lil bit] trying to avoid for the past days.

[@BakugouKatsuki:]

"Dumbass."

[@MissPinky:]

"So THAT'S WHY U NEEDED MINTS!?!!!!!?? 🤣

She giggled again, entertained by her friends when her interactions just exploded. App actually crashed as she blinked while munching on some french fries dumbly.

As she tried to open her app again, both her friends landed by the table, joking about Kaminari and his never ending stupidity. Notifications popped again and again, legit confusing the girl to no end, making her ignore her two friends as they asked her what was going on, mainly because of her expression.

"The hell...?" she muttered, throwing the phone down while Twitter took its sweet, sweet time to load and open and just as she opened her mouth to answer Mina, she made eye contact with some very intense red eyes.

Clasping her mouth shut and ignoring Ochaco as she took [Y/N]'s phone to see what's going on, the girl could only focus on Bakugou, sitting a few tables away, facing her direction. She almost shivered in place under the intensity he was giving away, although his position was laid back, phone in one hand, chin in the other. And, again, gaze on her. He barely even blinked, his neutral expression giving nothing away and she knew she was blushing. Why was she a blushing mess under his gaze? Well, answer was obvious for everyone, even the whole internet now, but oh, she wished Bakugou Katsuki wasn't that sharp. Who are we kidding though?

Ochaco started to shake her out of her daze, interrupting the intense eye contact battle as she shoved her phone in her face.

"Oh. My. God." She muttered, stuttering her following words "Please, look at this, I can't believe it... Mina, check Twitter."

"If Kaminari threw Diet Coke and Mints in one of the bathroom toilets to 'experiment', I'm done with him." Mina responded but froze in place, just as [Y/N] looked away from the explosive boy. "Wait... WAIT!" her eyes almost popped out of her skull. "WHAAAAAAA–?!"

On the screen of her phone was the profile of the guy she's been crushing for... A year now? The guy that at first ignored her, then screamed at her, then beat her ass in training, then got his ass beaten by her, that scoffed at her shitty jokes, that actually chuckled at her shitty jokes, that studied with her, that smiled at her... The guy that complimented her when her quick improved. The guy that took her opinion seriously even when acting like he didn't care. The guy that stole her heart when he showed little glimpses of his complex persona only to her. The guy that fucking retweeted:

[@onlybakuy/nhere:]

"King & Queen."

And a picture attached, them shaking hands after their battle, ready to go get prepared for the podium. Bloodied, sweaty, yet both smiling at each other.

"I can't believe this–[Y/N]–" The brunette started rambling and fangirling besides her, but... With a careful glance, she peeked under her eyelashes to look at the boy again, her heart almost stopping when noticing he was still observing, small grin on his face hidden behind his hand, perfectly angled for her to see. "There's another one!"

Everything started to make sense, as she quickly checked her notifications to see the Internet™ just going crazy over that retweet. People started mass-following her, fans and stans just living for it, tagging her username with a screenshot of the retweet and now it hyped up again with... pictures of his profile? Did he change his description? He... changed his description. While there was absolutely nothing in there, now there was one single word. King.

Her eyebrows just rose so high her forehead hurt, the 3 braincells that were still somehow functioning were catching up to what the hell was going on and now she was positive, 100%, without a doubt that she was blushing like a mad-woman, a smile forming on her lips as she hit the retweet button on the same tweet he did and instantly opening her profile to edit.

Both her friends were freaking out by her side, accusing her of being way too calm in this situation, to explain but [Y/N] knew she couldn't utter any word, or even look up at them or at him. If she did, she'd break the spell, the moment, and as she deleted her description and only wrote a single word in her profile, her smile only widened. Hearing Mina screech after seeing her retweet, the girl giggled like an idiot.

Bakugou Katsuki was loud, brash, maybe a little bit emotionally constipated, rough around the edges, incredibly smart, observing, caring, awful with words but straight to the point with actions. And he was, without a doubt, fucking extra when doing things.

As she pressed the button Save on her profile, she caught him looking at his phone, being patted on the back by Kirishima, that somehow appeared in the frame yet was so distant in her field of vision as only he mattered at the moment. Waiting his reaction patiently and waiting for the internet to start freaking out again, her chest was hurting from the drumming of her heart. Hell, she knew she looked like a disaster with a flushed face, phone gripped so hard in her hand that it could break, a group of girls forming around her, noisy yet so distant. The world going in slow motion, seeing his crimson eyes widen for a fraction of a second, hiding more of his face in the palm of his hand as he still tried to look so casual, Kirishima's "Yeaaaaaaaah!" filled her ears as he tapped his finger on the screen, destination already clear. And when he saw what he needed...

He got up, leaving his tray of food behind, shit-eating grin basically parting the sea of people forming around them both as he marched towards where she was seated, and for the third time they made eye contact. His cheeks flushed, such a boyish expression coveting his normally angry features, mischievous and happy, relieved, just... Perfect.

Everything went in slow motion for her, his march, decisive and bold, as he always was, took to an end as he got to her, just giving her a hand and a raised brow, inviting her to leave with him anywhere but there.

And she took it without hesitation.

#bakugou x reader #Bakugou katsuki x reader #F!reader #bakugou katsuki #Mha #Bnha #Twitter #Social media #my hero academia #Boku no hero academia #Fluff #Bakugou is fucking extra #♥ ♥ ♥ #Noire writes

[xyliane]

AUgust 7: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS 12 YEAR OLD

PROMPT THE SEVENTH: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS wait how can you childhood friends au killugon, I asked myself, forgetting that I had a whole-ass idea in my drafts already. this one’s a proper fic, too (minus editing cuz l o l it’s an AU writing challenge, not editing challenge). T, aged-up killugon, modern day au. ft ambiguous descriptions of social media, alluka, kalluto, and leorio in killua’s corner, and zushi and spinner in gon’s, brief discussion of getting plastered and dealing with a hangover. 5000 words.

0o0o0o0o0

The first sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when Killua wakes up with a hangover.

This does not happen. Killua can count on one hand the number of times he’s gotten so drunk he’s had a hangover, and most of them are the fault of his little siblings. Little siblings who are now living together, whose couch he is currently painfully existing upon, half too hot and his toes way too cold. And the couch is too soft, an old secondhand thing he’d helped Alluka grapple up the stairs months ago after they found it outside an old dorm. He makes a notch in his very sore brain to blame the current situation on them. Kalluto might be kind enough to let a drunk big brother crash with them, but Alluka has a devious streak a mile wide.

Yeah. This is definitely their fault.

One eye slowly creaks open, surveying his surroundings through blurry vision. Nothing out of the ordinary here. He’s in the pajamas he’s left with Alluka forever ago, curled up under an old blanket he gave her for Nanika’s birthday. It’s covered in the Matrix code, all green letters on black wool. It barely covers him from chest to knees, which explains the cold toes.

Sunlight flickers through the curtains, cheerful and bright, and Killua pulls the blanket over his face. He’ll take cold toes over being blinded by his headache.

The second sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when a noise like a chainsaw burrowing through a marshmallow erupts from his phone buzzing on the coffee table, just barely out of reach.

Killua attempts to bury himself under the blanket. He’s not dealing with work today.

And then he remembers: He doesn’t have work. Work can’t bother him today. Not just because it’s a weekend—work never respected the sanctity of weekends, no matter that he was at least partially in charge and used to have a fancy degree hanging on his wall. He doesn’t have work anymore. Killua quit.

Which, well. That explains the hangover.

He’s still blaming his siblings.

His phone buzzes loud enough to break the sound barrier, and Killua decides, fuck it. He doesn’t have anything to lose. If it’s the-place-formerly-known-as-work, he can delete everything. If it’s Mom or Father, he can definitely delete everything. And maybe it’s a friendly person, congratulating him on giving up a job that for anyone else would have been an absolute money-making dream. He’ll delete those too.

It takes a few tries to unlock his phone, and it unfortunately involves opening his eyes, squinting against the glaring light of the screen. But once he does, he frowns. Maybe he’s seeing double. Or a hundredfold. Because he should not have this many notifications.

awwww cute, i hope u 2 find each other! the top one says. It has several hundred likes. Why is it in his notifications?

Scrolling down reveals that it’s not an anomaly.

wtf man how can you find a TWELVE YEAR OLD from FIFTEEN YEARS AGO.

Me and my mom went on a cruise around there once, it was really pretty!

this is so sweet T__T maybe this is him?

And then another hundred photos of brown-skinned men with varying degrees of shirt-wearing, all black haired and most of them buff in very appealing ways and all of them beaming at Killua.

“What the fuck,” Killua croaks as he scrolls through all of the images and messages. Maybe this is a dream. A really weird, hangover-induced dream about how little of a social life he has, that his phone is possessed by someone else’s. A warning of sorts, that he should never have installed any social media on his phone ever, not even for hookups.

The reason for all the notifications lies at the top of his own page. Just a few sentences, all-caps, with an image of an old crinkled photo of two boys on a tropical beach, grinning at the camera. Killua sees himself, white curly hair flying in all directions and pale skin sunburned and ruddy with the briny wind, happier than Killua can ever remember being. Next to him, one arm slung around his shoulders and the other holding a bucket full of seashells, is a brown-skinned boy with freckles dancing across his nose and the tops of his shoulders, brown eyes wide and laughing and black hair thick and spiked from some mix of wind and seawater and natural gravity defiance.

He didn’t know he still had this photo. It had followed him from childhood all the way through grad school, a carefully guarded keepsake hidden away from the watchful eyes of his parents and Illumi, before ending up in a box or a bag at some point in the last few years. Part of Killua thought he’d lost it in the move. He barely remembers much about being twelve, about the cruise he’d been forcibly dragged on. But he remembers…

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? yells the caption. WE WERE BEST FRIENDS FOR A WEEK WHEN I GOT DRAGGED ON A CRUISE BY MY ASSHOLE PARENTS. HE WAS 12 ON WHALE ISLAND 15 YEARS AGO. IF FOUND, DM IMMEDIATELY.

“Gon,” Killua breathes.

He gathers himself, wrapping the blanket around his head in a feeble protection against the morning, and lurches over to Alluka’s room.

He gets to bang on her door three times, confused spite winning out over his own pounding headache, before Kalluto appears out of their room, blinking blearily at Killua. “Shut up.”

Killua kicks Alluka’s door for good measure, and brandishes his phone in front of him like a weapon. “Not until you explain what the hell this is doing on the internet.”

Kalluto pales, then flushes, then pales again. “Oh. Um.”

At that, Alluka creaks her door open, guilty blue eyes far too awake for how close to noon it is. Killua kind of wants to kill her on principle alone. If he has to be hungover, so does everyone else.

“Explain,” he grinds out through his teeth.

The third and final sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when Alluka puts on her most winning smile, the kind she uses to ward off angry customers and idiotic faux-academics on the internet. “Congratulations, Brother! I might have made you go viral.”

Killua throws his phone at her.

—————

Today’s going to be a good day, Gon decides. He’s been in the forests of East Gorteau for the better part of a month, which normally isn’t so bad. But this group has been…They’re nice enough, when Gon’s not spending half of his time explaining that, no, that species of plant does not make a good stew, and no, that species is endangered please don’t hunt them, and yes Gon is sure he doesn’t date his clients even after the hike, and no the reason the tent fell over again is because it wasn’t properly set up in the first place—

All of Aunt Mito’s complaints about tourists on Whale Island make so much more sense, now that Gon’s leading backwoods hikes.

But last night had been fun! Spinner had met the group at a pre-set campsite not far from their pickup so Gon hadn’t had to work the whole night, and he could relax with his friend over good food, more alcohol than he probably should have drunk, and not having to explain to Mrs. Yuldvin the difference between marijuana, buckeye, and poison oak again. Spinner had even taken care of the fire, although she had left him to rescue the Podomos siblings from the ruins of their tent with nothing more than a smirk and a wave. Nevertheless, Gon smiled through his headache all morning, because soon he’ll be home, and he can sleep.

Zushi is waiting in the parking lot once Gon’s done packing up the last of the gear and saying goodbye to Spinner, jeep idling while he flicks through his phone, thick eyebrows drawn together in increasing concern. He doesn’t even look up until Gon drops his pack onto the hood of the car, and he jolts so badly in surprise that he tosses his phone in the air.

“Are you okay?” Gon asks, and tries to peek at the screen.

Zushi pulls it up and away, a frantic look in his eyes. It won’t really keep Gon from seeing what’s happening, not if he wants to, but Zushi’s height is enough of a deterrent to make it hard. “You were gone way too long,” he says.

Gon leans against the hot metal of Zushi’s car. It wasn’t an unusual length for a trip, not really—this backcountry needs the length to be able to see and understand the region. Not to mention the Small Billed Swan preservation society keeping the whole place locked down except to authorized guides and trekkers. Zushi knows this. They’ve been roommates long enough that this isn’t even the longest time Gon’s been gone.

“You knew I’d be gone til today,” Gon says.

“Yeah, but…” Zushi’s eyebrows descend even further, scrunching his whole face up in worry. “You haven’t checked your phone, right?”

“No?” Even if he did have cell service, Gon never brings his own phone. He borrows Kite’s satellite phone, because it is more reliable and doesn’t need to be charged constantly.

“Okay. Well.” Zushi takes a deep breath, then another, one of Wing’s old meditation techniques. Despite his exhaustion and single-minded determination to sink into a real bed and sleep for a week, Gon feels a minor pang of worry. On breath three, he unlocks his phone and turns it towards Gon. “You’re a meme.”

On Zushi’s screen is a photo Gon can’t ever forget about. Backed by Whale Island’s sunbleached white beaches and the humid brilliant colors of summer, Gon sees himself—twelve, smiling from ear to ear, hair a mess from swimming and his shirt practically covered in sand from digging up all the seashells in his bucket. He’s got an arm around another boy, who’s caught mid-laugh so his blue eyes burn the same color as the sky, white curls even messier than Gon’s hair. They look like they’ve known each other their whole lives, like they’d still be best friends even if they haven’t seen or spoken to each other since the photo was taken.

Gon hopes Killua thinks so, too.

He cradles the phone in his hand, carefully zooming in on their faces and the errant crinkles visible through the photo. His own faded copy is in a drawer, having survived a whole trip around the world and countless apartment jumps. This one looks just as well cared for, in its own way.

“That…is you, right?” Zushi asks carefully. “Because Wing was asking, and half of Kite’s guide company is yelling about it on your social media page that you don’t even use, and now people are messaging me, and they’re saying the weirdest things, and the post is from last week, so—”

“It’s Killua,” Gon says. A smile spreads across his face, a mirror to the one he’d had when he was twelve. “That’s Killua!”

“Who?” the others ask, but Gon isn’t listening.

He spins, frantically searching his pockets for his phone. “Spinner, can you do me a favor?”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously.

Gon knew today was going to be a good day.

—————

It’s been a week, and Killua has quit all social media forever.

The steady buzz of his phone informing the apartment of his notifications is not his problem. Alluka’s the one who decided to hack into his phone and post something to his old public account, the one he mostly uses for photos of cats and complaining about terrible business precedents. He hasn’t posted much since school, and if anything, it should have simply vanished into the void of the internet.

He finds the culprit fairly quickly, and for once it’s not his sister’s moderate but dedicated video following.

“Old man, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Leorio lounges in Alluka and Kalluto’s living room, freshly out of his scrubs and looking pleased as all hell. “I just reblogged a fun post from my friend,” he says somewhat defensively. “You were a cute kid, Killua. What happened?”

Killua feels a growl creep up his throat. “You can’t just do that,” he snaps.

“It’s not my fault the people like my well-coiffed but rugged appearance and dedication to social justice in medicine.”

“You have 500,000 followers because you made a joke post two years ago, and some authorized user reblogged it five times. It has nothing to do with your ugly mug.” If Killua squints and plugs his ears, he can even see why people think Leorio’s attractive or whatever: tan skin, lean but strong as hell, actually takes care of his hair, not to mention a damn good doctor with one of the most prestigious institutions in Yorknew who spends most of his free time running health clinics in impoverished neighborhoods. That’s all swell. But then he starts talking, and Killua has no idea where the off button is.

Leorio spreads a hand out, gesturing vaguely with the glass of iced tea that he’d helped himself to out of Alluka’s stash. “It has everything to do with my ‘ugly mug,’” he says. “Which is why I used my powers for good and spread your post. Don’t you want to find him?”

“Not like this!”

“You were not going to find him at all,” Kalluto’s quiet voice pipes up from the kitchen. They have night classes tonight, but Killua has a feeling that even if they were supposed to be attending their Yorknew Uni lectures, they would still be here making Killua’s life worse. “You’ve had that picture for years, and you did not even try to look.”

Leorio gives him a judgmental look over the tops of his stupid tiny glasses. “You haven’t?”

It would be a losing game to bury his burning face in one of the throw pillows, so Killua does his best to cross his arms over his chest and glower instead. “I…tried.”

“And?”

“I don’t even know his last name!” Killua splutters. “I didn’t have his number or where he was from, other than his mom worked on the ship. And that cruiseline went bankrupt and liquidated everything before I could get out of the house, so I couldn’t even look that up.”

Kalluto crosses over from the kitchen and perches like a sweatshirt-wearing crow on the coffee table, their blue eyes carefully neutral under straight black bangs. “Alluka and Nanika would have helped. Or even Milluki, if you had explained the situation.”

“I was eighteen, okay? I just left home, and our parents were still being…shit, themselves, I guess.” He hadn’t even considered asking for help. Then again, he’d tried the moment he could, that first summer of undergrad where he didn’t have to come home and Illumi couldn’t spend half his time breathing down the back of Killua’s neck. He had a general idea of where they’d gone, maps of islands scurried away in the closet with the old photo and a bag full of seashells Gon had given him as a going-away present.

They’d been friends for a week, in the whirlwind way that only kids can be. The cruise ship was massive, and Killua’s parents were in meetings half the time and playing nice with the other rich people on board the other half. Killua had been bored witless, and Gon was everything he couldn’t have possibly imagined: encouraging Killua to go exploring, to stealing food from the kitchens, making him help clean up the decks, playing cards with the deckhands. Sneaking off the boat to visit an island without Killua’s parents while the ship was docked, scrambling over the burning hot sands and dashing through the jungle, diving into the waves fully clothed and competing to see who could find the biggest prettiest shells. Gon’d been Killua’s first friend, his first crush, his first…a lot of firsts.

Then the cruise had ended, and Killua forgot to give Gon his phone number. His address. Anything. They’d been so swept up in being friends, being best friends, it had seemed impossible that they would never see each other again.

Does Gon even remember? Why should he, when Killua hasn’t contacted him? Would they even be friends anymore?

Maybe he hadn’t searched hard enough. But part of Killua thinks he shouldn’t have tried at all.

The phone buzzes loudly, and Killua tries not to flinch.

“Hey, Killua. It’s okay.” Leorio leans forward, hands clasped over his too-long limbs and expression gentle. “If you want me to delete it, I will. Not sure I can help with the viral part of things, except maybe go through your messages and delete the gross ones, or at least find the weirdest ones for you to laugh at later.”

“Alluka and I have been doing this already,” Kalluto says, their posture a little too protective for Killua’s raw nerves at this point. “But perhaps you have some suggestions for what to do next, Dr. Paladiknight?”

Leorio smiles sympathetically. “Don’t read the comments? That said, most of your comments have been much more positive than anything I usually post. The masses seem to be genuinely rooting for you, kid.”

“I have only had to delete a dozen lewd messages for you this morning,” Kalluto adds, not mentioning the hundred or so that Alluka took care of yesterday.

Killua’s traitorous phone buzzes again, and that’s it. Time to bury himself in a pillow. Killua flops onto the couch, narrowly missing Leorio, and does his best to burrow into the cushions. “That’s just great,” he says into the fabric.

A comforting hand rubs against his hair, messing up the curls for a moment, and Killua refuses to admit that it’s nice, that he has friends like Leorio who even bother to care. “It could be worse. You could be dealing with this while still working a soul-sucking job making more money than most of us will see in our lifetimes, in exchange for giving up all of your morals.”

Killua groans loudly. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“You’re gonna need to do something, Killua! And hey, I might be able to set something up with my—”

“I already told you, no.”

“But it’s what you’re good at. And you wouldn’t be fucking people over to do it.”

“No.”

“Just listen for one—”

Killua lifts his head enough to glare as murderously as he can at Leorio. It must work at least a little, because the doctor shuts up.

Meanwhile, Kalluto is scrolling through Killua’s phone, poking at the screen occasionally. In the awkward silence, their sharp gasp is loud enough to shatter a window, and they hurriedly shove the phone in the pocket of their oversized sweatshirt.

Leorio raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

Kalluto squeezes their eyes shut for a moment, then carefully places the phone on the coffee table, screen pointed innocently at the ceiling. “You will want to look at this one, Brother.”

“This isn’t another erotic sandcastle is it?” he says.

Kalluto shakes their head, and Killua’s stomach lurches up his throat. Alluka has been the one excited about this whole thing. But Kalluto, as reserved as they are, is a massive romantic. The whole thing might be Alluka’s fault, but Killua knows it’s Kalluto who almost lets themselves believe it’ll work. Despite all of the false positives, the people who send messages that don’t sound right or photos that have the wrong smile.

Killua doesn’t want to hope. It can’t possibly be Gon. But his hands shake nonetheless as he unlocks his phone and finds a new message in his DMs.

It’s not from Gon.

Instead, someone with the icon of a small-billed white swan in a soft small-billed hat and a handle of @flymypretties has sent a photo of a brown-skinned man with spiky black hair absolutely covered in dirt and grime. He’s waving at the camera, a backpacking bag propped against his shoulder and the widest smile Killua has ever seen beaming straight through the screen and into his chest. Next to him and half out of frame, a tall tanned man with massive black eyebrows and a tank top showing off an impressive amount of muscle has his head in his hands. Killua feels a sharp stab of sympathy, somewhere buried beneath the racing of his heart.

look im sorry about this but this idiot can’t find his phone and we r kind of in the middle of nowhere so reception’s shit. he wants to know if you admit he found the biggest seashell on the beach, whatever that means.

For a long, long moment—seconds? minutes maybe?—Killua can do nothing but stare at the screen of his phone. Leorio and Kalluto both look at him with a mix of curiosity and worry, Kalluto starting to slowly reach for the phone.

In a completely childish protective moment, Killua grabs it against his chest, like the image will vanish if he doesn’t keep it close.

“Is it…?” Leorio asks.

Killua swallows heavily, trying to think around the roaring of the ocean in his ears. “I think so,” he says faintly.

Kalluto’s eyes widen, and they spin on their heels towards their room. “I’m calling Alluka!”

—————

“Has he responded?”

“No!”

“…what about now?”

Spinner throws her hands in the air so violently that her hat falls off. “For god’s sake, Gon, it’s been an hour, you don’t even have your phone, and you still need to go home.”

Gon huffs and pouts. They’re still in the parking lot over an hour after the rest of the trekking group has left, and all the exhaustion that had settled into Gon’s body from the tour has been turned into a jittery energy that keeps trying to leak out from under his skin. He wants to go home immediately and dig out his copy of the photo, rub out the old fingerprints he and Aunt Mito have left on it over the years. He wants to find his phone and message Killua directly. He wants to wait right here until Killua responds, no matter how long it takes.

He knows it’s childish, to be this selfish. Spinner has work to do, work that she already put on hold to help with the last day of the tour. Kite probably will want to know what’s happening, or at least why his lead guide and his chief guide organizer have been stuck in a parking lot. And Gon can practically feel Zushi’s obsessive scrolling through social media, frantically trying to navigate Gon’s feeds without actually having access.

Gon needs to find his phone.

“Spinner, what if—”

It’s not that Spinner’s a large woman. Out of the three people standing in the parking lot, Zushi’s far and away the strongest, even if he is about as threatening as a large, muscular teddy bear. And Gon has only packed on weight and muscle over his years of backpacking around the wilderness, no matter that he’s not super tall. But Spinner goes for longer, harder treks on her own than anyone but Kite, and she packs in her own climbing gear on top of that, so when she tosses Gon into the back of Zushi’s jeep, he flies.

“Zushi,” she says in a low exhausted snarl, and he jumps right off the hood of his car. Gon probably would have felt bad for him, if everything wasn’t spinning. “If you do not take your roommate home, I am not responsible for the consequences.”

“What if you hear back?” Gon groans around the aches in his side.

Spinner rolls her eyes, and Gon knows she’s just tired. “I’ll let you know.”

“But what if my phone’s gone? What will I do if someone stole it, or if I can’t—”

“I’ll call you go home already,” she says, and slams the door shut on his face.

For a long moment, the only sound is Spinner storming away, boots thudding heavily in the dirt until her car door slams.

The jeep shifts slightly as Zushi quietly lowers himself into the driver’s seat and puts the key into the ignition. Gon wants to tell him to follow Spinner, so she can yell out the window as soon as Killua gets back to her. But Zushi looks about ready to bolt. So Gon slumps back in the seat, the rumble of tires crunching through gravel making his already jittery nerves shake.

A small voice that sounds a lot like Kite tells Gon that it’s better to wait, that it will be easier to have a conversation and determine if this really is Killua after a rest and a shower.

Gon doesn’t want that, though. He wants…

It’s been a long time since he was on Whale Island. Longer still since he saw Killua. That doesn’t mean he stopped thinking about either of them, during the quiet moments out under the stars. They’re part of him, like his lungs are part of him—essential and irreplaceable, buried so far inside that removing them would change him irrevocably.

What is Killua like now? Is Gon just as important to him as he is to Gon? He has to be. Right?

They make it home without saying anything else. Gon floats in and out between bone-deep weariness and electric sparks of nervous joy, and Zushi flinches every time Gon jolts himself from one to the other.

“Hey, are you…I mean, maybe not okay, but.”

Gon lifts his chin up sharply at the sound of his roommate’s voice, and notices the familiar apartment complex in front of him. Oh, they’re home. “I’m good,” he says, and grins.

“Sure,” Zushi says like he doesn’t believe Gon.

A dubious silence stretches out between them as they gather the rest of the gear, dropping it in a heap on the sidewalk. “You were kids, though,” Zushi finally says.

Gon shrugs and slams the door shut hard enough to make the vehicle rattle. “I didn’t forget. So I don’t think Killua would, either.”

Zushi’s eyebrows wrinkle on each other, like they can’t decide whether to go up or down and settle on some combination of the two. “What if he did?”

“He didn’t,” Gon says, more sure of that than anything else in his life.

Zushi’s eyebrows dance again, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Between Gon’s camping gear and Zushi’s leftover practice pads, it takes longer than Gon’s excitement can take to get everything settled enough to look for his phone. Well, Gon would have liked to look for his phone, but Zushi makes a pointed look at the shower. There are only so many places the phone could be in the whole apartment, after all.

Gon’s just drying off when Zushi knocks on the door. “I found it, but it’s dead,” he says, voice muffled.

“Then charge it!” Gon shouts. After a moment, he adds, quieter and less snappishly, “Please?”

A faint laugh echoes through the apartment.

By the time Gon can make himself a very early dinner of whatever he could grab out of the cabinets without thinking, the phone is charged enough to turn on. Sure enough, there are a wide variety of messages, mostly from Kite’s groupchat asking about the viral post. A few are from former hikers, people who Gon liked enough to share contact info, offering to see if they can get in touch. There are even a few—okay, how did they get ahold of his old social media page? It’s practically defunct, since Gon’s never had a phone capable of more than the most basic apps. And those are…

It’s flattering in a way, but Gon’s not really into that. Or them.

Zushi catches sight of the grimace, and takes one look over Gon’s shoulder before turning beet red.

By the time he’s gone through and deleted the vast majority of what had been filling up his phone, there’s still no message from Spinner, and nothing at all from Killua. Gon sighs and lies his head down on the table with a heavy thunk.

The other chair scrapes heavily along the tiles as Zushi sits, a mug of coffee in his hands. “What will you do? When he messages you, I mean.”

When, not if, an unexpected certainty coming from Zushi. Gon has the best friends in the world. “Talk to him,” Gon says. “It’s only been fifteen years, right? We promised we’d be friends forever.”

“A lot changes in fifteen years,” Zushi says.

“Not that.”

“Then why didn’t you look for him?”

Gon frowns. It had taken a long, long time, but Aunt Mito managed to track down the cruise captain the last time they were in port, tracing through old charters until the right names came up. But when she’d called them up, she’d been met with stonewall after stonewall, pleasant-sounding voices insisting in no uncertain terms that she would never speak with a member of Killua’s family, let alone let her son speak to his friend. By the time Gon was old enough to look himself, he found nothing but a mansion full of people whose eyes matched Killua’s in everything except for his warmth, who refused to even acknowledge Gon’s presence except to throw him out.

That had been years ago. It’s not that Gon stopped looking. Not exactly.

“I did, but I—” Gon starts to say, but his phone buzzes violently against the table, and they both jump out of their chairs.

“Is it—?” Zushi asks, breath in his throat.

It’s a message from Spinner. you owe me big time, kid, she says, followed by a phone number.

Gon rips his phone off the cable, a wide smile spreading across his face. “It is,” he says, and dials Killua.

—————

bzz bzz—

bzz bzz—

bzz b—

“H-hello?”

“Killua! Hi!”

“…Gon? Is that—It’s really…?”

“Killua, it’s you, I thought I’d never—”

“I did find the biggest seashell, and you know it.”

A breath, sharp and astonished. “The blue and white one, with green lines.”

“I found it, and I gave it to you.”

“I still have it.”

A snort of amusement, slightly damp. “I know. You promised you’d keep it.”

“I did. And I promised—”

“That we’d be friends forever.”

A laugh, delighted and teary at the same time. “I knew you remembered.���

“I did promise you that I would.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

(AUgust prompts)

#AUgust2020 #hunter x hunter #hxh #killugon #gon freecss #killua zoldyck #alluka zoldyck #kalluto zoldyck #leorio paladiknight #zushi #spinner clow #gone viral au #fluff #and then killua visits gon and they get together and everything is lovely and killua finally takes leorio up on his offer the end #thanks tumblr for fucking up my tag for this whole challenge #my writing

[ghosttotheparty]

while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

2. I just wanna go where I can get some space AO3

Lucas doesn't know what to do with himself. 

He still hasn’t worked up the energy or motivation to unpack beyond what he needs, even after weeks of being in Antwerp. He’s barely even worked up the motivation to get out of bed. 

He’s barely left the apartment, even after his two-week quarantine mostly in his room (during which he unpacked a few shirts and the white comforter that’s strewn across his mattress, which lies on the floor next to a window), despite his father’s demands that he get groceries. That was their first fight after Lucas moved in. Words had been thrown around the room. Lucas wishes he had thrown other things too. Anything that might just convince his father to send him back to Utrecht. Maybe some plates. Glass. But he figures that would probably just get his father’s belt lashed at him. 

When his father finally surrendered to letting Lucas stay home, he told him to unpack. And then told him that he isn’t allowed to put anything on the walls. Not even with tape. 

So Lucas has boxes and boxes filled with things he can do nothing with but look at. Photos he’d printed before moving specifically to put on his walls, that he now just thumbs through longingly, gazing at Kes and Jayden and Isa and Liv. He even has photos of Noah, whom he’d gotten closer to in the days before the move. Noah had given him a goodbye gift of a set of pencils accompanied with a wink and a hug later on that night. He’d told Lucas that he’d caught him doodling on a napkin at a get-together a few weeks before. 

“You’re pretty good,” Noah had told him. “You could do it seriously.”

“I do,” Lucas had responded. “I just don’t show anyone.” 

“Well maybe if you show more people, more people will get you new supplies.” 

Lucas had just made a face and allowed him a “Maybe.” 

The pencils are in the same box as all his sketchbooks, the ones he’s started filling with drawings and doodles, and the ones that are completely blank, bought before he moved just in case he wouldn’t be able to buy any after arriving.  In the box, he also has watercolours and paints and an abundance of brushes, along with palette knives he’s never used. The box is on the floor next to his door. He moved it from the top of a stack of boxes after needing to find his lined notebooks for school. And his clothes. 

Anyway. 

The photos. 

He remembers when they were taken. He heard a lot of laughter that day. He had taken some before Kes had snatched his phone (freshly cleared of storage just for the occasion), and taken more than Lucas had bothered to count. Pictures of Lucas and Isa, Isa by herself, Lucas and Liv, Lucas and Janna, Lucas and Engel, Lucas and Noah, Lucas and Jayden, Lucas and Ralph, before he had begun taking photos of them not posing. Photos of them eating, laughing, talking, hugging.  Them all existing. 

They were beautiful.

Lucas had told Kes he could be a photographer. Kes had said he’s never thought about it. 

Then Lucas had taken his phone back and taken photos of Kes and the others until his storage ran out.

He printed each and every one of them.

He flips through them whenever he can, grinning and rolling his eyes at the photos of Jayden making a face and the photo of Noah flipping his middle finger to Kes with a flat face, smiling fondly at the photo of Liv and Isa hugging, Isa’s cheek squished against Liv’s, gazing longingly at the ones of them all together. 

He sighs. 

He supposes he feels lonely now. Of course, he’s still been talking to them, chatting and giggling at the stupid videos and memes they send, but he hasn’t seen or touched them since he moved. He thinks he misses that the most. Hugging, shaking hands, receiving cheek kisses from Isa and Janna and Ralph. Sitting on a sofa and immediately feeling someone’s leg press against his, or lay over his lap. Feeling someone’s head rest on his shoulder, someone’s fingers mess with his curls. He misses when Isa would stand too close while talking to him, close enough for him to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her close while she speaks. He misses when Kes’s thigh would press against his as they sat side-by-side, and when Jayden would greet him with a fist to his shoulder, or Ralph with a pinch on his cheek. 

He hasn’t touched anyone since moving. He doesn’t think the accidental brushes against his father’s shoulders as he storms past count. 

He misses it, more so sometimes than others. Sometimes he misses it so badly he aches, pulling a pillow to his chest, or wrapping his arms around his legs, trying to feel some sort of contact, some sort of pressure. Sometimes he wonders if he’ll forget what it feels like to touch other people. He, no one for that matter, doesn’t know when it’ll be completely safe to touch others, to hang out with them without covering their faces, to greet them with kisses on the cheek, the way Janna likes to. He doesn’t even know if he’ll have anyone he’ll want to do those things with. 

He doubts he’ll find friends like Kes and Jayden, kind of doubts he’ll find friends full stop. 

It’s not like he’s going to have the opportunity to get to know anyone at school, as they’re not even at school. And it’s not like he really wants to make friends, anyway. He’ll just leave Antwerp after high school, just have to say goodbye. The first chance he gets, he’s leaving on a train back to Utrecht. He’ll figure his life out from there. 

But for now, this is what he has: a mattress on the floor. Blank walls. Towering cardboard boxes. A stash of cigarettes and weed hidden between his mattress and the wall. His skateboard propped up against a stack of boxes. His laptop sitting on top of a box, ready for when he finally starts school, which he’s dreading. 

Just more things to do. 

More chores. 

Everything feels like a chore lately. If he thinks about it, everything’s felt like a chore for a while now. Instead of a to-do list, he has a fuck, I still have to do that list. It takes energy to roll out of bed. It takes commitment to wake up. 

It’s gotten worse since he got to Antwerp. Maybe, he thinks, because it’s so much work to exist in the same place as his father, who blames him for every single thing the universe throws his way. But he also thinks it’s because there’s no one here to shake him out of it. Back home, he would get texts and texts from his friends, telling him to meet them at the skatepark, at a cafe, at some party. Giving him things to do. 

Here, he still gets texts. 

He answers them laying in bed. 

He doesn’t know how to explain it. 

It feels like something is missing. Like there’s an emptiness in him. It’s easier to ignore when he’s around other people, when he’s listening to loud music and talking and laughing, or scrolling endlessly on social media. It’s easier to pretend there’s something there, on that empty shelf in his chest. 

Sometimes it’s sadness, he thinks. Especially since he moved. Sadness from missing home, missing people. But most of the time it’s just… nothing. 

And he can’t really spend time with his friends, so he scrolls. Or draws or paints. But he hasn’t been making much art beyond sketches lately. 

Part of him hopes he might make some friends when school starts, at least some people to chat with, or hang out with when it’s safe. But if he’s completely honest with himself, he’s not expecting to. He doesn’t even remember how he became friends with most of the friends he has. Kes and Isa had, for lack of a better word, adopted him when they were younger, had taken him under their wings and shown him the ropes of existence. 

Which feel like they’re unravelling. 

Lucas rolls over in bed, looking up at his laptop on the boxes, sighing. This is his life now. Boxes and the internet. The sound of his father tripping down the hall, grumbling to himself because Lucas isn’t there to scold. (This is just about the only instance Lucas can think of when he hears his father’s voice. The amount of words they’ve exchanged outside of their fights could usually be counted on two hands.) He’ll finally hear some voices that don’t belong to his father next week when he goes to class. 

The thought of going back to school, even through video calls and online assignments, makes him itch. He’s picked his lips red and raw in the past few days, without Isa to swat his hands away from his face before he can start tasting blood. When he lets his mind wander, his leg starts to bounce. His mom would set her hand on his knee, making it stop, and chuckle while telling him he’s making her seasick. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

He already has lots of emails from teachers; he checks every time he uses his laptop, but he hasn’t responded to any of them. They all sound the same.

This is new to all of us The school year looks very different this year Thank you all for doing your best! These are uncertain times This digital landscape is difficult to navigate This is a unique challenge This could be an opportunity for you

All monotonous, inspiring voices of people waiting. 

He doesn’t know how the hell he’s supposed to respond to any of them. 

He tries to think that is really is something everyone is experiencing. That This is new to all of us and We’re all doing what we can, but he feels like he’s in it alone. He knows even Kes and the others aren’t seeing each other in person, aren’t hugging and hanging out the way Lucas longs to, but at least they’re at home. Lucas is stuck in a box, and it feels like it’s closing around him. 

He sighs again, shutting his eyes. It’s not quite dark yet, but he feels exhausted, even after doing nothing all day. He’ll probably wake up in a few hours anyway. And he’ll open his blinds, looking out at the city, just half-alive, just like him. 

#this is shorter than id like but #baby boys not doing great #also warning rn this *is* going to be a sad fic #but! dont worry about either of them #you know i wouldnt hurt them #also take care of yourself pls #lucas would want you to #i love you #wtfoc #wtfock #skam #skam nl fic #vds #van der stoffels #van der stoffels fic #lucas vdh #lucas van der heijden #jens stoffels #while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

[kyber-heart]

Feeling a touch nostalgic today...

So I’m gonna self indulgently prattle on about my very first Legacy of SWTOR OCs

I first started playing the game in earnest in mid 2015 after I graduated High School. I had been feeling very depressed and unsure of my path going forward. Thus I reverted back on things that made me happy as a child and preteen. Most prominently, Star Wars. I had known about the existance of SWTOR for years even prior to it’s release as I followed it’s development because of it’s connection to KOTOR. I was very skeptical of it being an Online game at the time, and when I first tried it in 2012, I wasn’t impressed. In 2015 though, I dared to give it another shot and I’m glad I did. It spawned perhaps some of my favourite moments of the last 5 years, introduced me to some amazing friends, and even this year allowed me to make new friends here on tumblr dot hell 

So cookbook recipe anecdote out of the way, let’s discuss the OCs. My very first Legacy was called The Furcifer Legacy. Furcifer meaning “Rogue” in Latin, I don’t speak Latin, I’m just a try-hard. Being F2P at the time, I only had two characters for most of 2015, and they were these two:

Reyal Bradack

Reyal came first. He was a Gunslinger Smuggler and admittedly a somewhat self insert. His name came from a “What is your star wars name” meme (you know the ones that are like “The first two letters of your surname + first three of your forename”) He was a child slave after his father ran out on his mom shortly after Rey’s birth, his mom sold him to the Hutts on Nal Hutta to repay a drugs debt. As a teen he managed to escape on to a Smuggling freighter. The smuggler captain took pity on the teen and took him as an adoptive son. The Smugglers were members of The Black Sun and Rey was introduced to a life of crime. He met his future Husband who was one of the Crew Members, a Chiss named Nalin. His life got thrown into disarray in 10 ATC when The Hero of Tython and Coruscant Security Force raided The Black Sun headquarters and began killing and making arrests. His husband and adopted Mother died from an explosion, he and the other member of the crew, Zoee, were taken into custody and given a choice, serve the Republic or life imprisonment. Both chose the former and were made to help with the ground work for the liberation of Balmorra. It was here on Balmorra that Rey would make a shocking discovery...

Atzethel “Zeth” Rist 

My second ever character, and for a long time, my main character. A Jedi Shadow Consular, he has gone through many iterations (which I may share someday). Zeth is the younger half-brother to Reyal. Both share the same father. At some point, the “Furcifer” patriarch found himself on Alderaan, in the employment of The Rist family. Despite dying under mysterious circumstances, he conceived a child with Lady Tharra Rist. Zeth was born with an unusually volatile connection to The Force, he was taken only days after The Treaty of Coruscant to be trained on board a Jedi Praxeum ship. The boy excelled due to his strange connect, however it caused him to be irrationally dangerous and as such, was ostracized by his peers and a topic of contention for his masters. He was taken under the wing of a Jedi Master, Nede Vaa, a togruta who sought to teach him patience and direct his urges. She was successful and trained him in the arts of The Jedi Shadows, hunting down and destroying The Sith from within. He and his Master were assigned to help lay the foundations for the Liberation of Balmorra. He discovered his brother Reyal on Balmorra, and after their mission was completed, requested to join his brother, though he kept his relationship to Reyal a secret. Begrudgingly accepting his request, Zeth worked with Reyal in uncovering several other Imperial threats and securing alliances with The Republic and certain criminal syndicates. During the Battle of Corellia, Zeth met another member of his family that surprised even Reyal to see.

Drrunn’al’inrokini “Nalin Bradack”

The first extra character I made upon subscribing, was a Chiss bounty hunter. He became a member of the smuggling crew, and Rey’s husband. While it was suspected that he was killed on Coruscant, he narrowly escaped with his life. He wandered the Underworld for a couple years after his ‘death’ believing that Rey and the rest of the crew had died. He eventually came across a mercenary, Loyabe Lealta, who claimed to have met a Reyal Bradack on Balmorra. The pair began searching for Reyal, eventually tracking him to Corellia. What should have been a joyous reunion was cut short when Reyal was hit with a poison dart by Loyabe intended for Zeth. Loyabe revealed her true self as an Imperial spy that had tried to hunt down the brothers for their involvement in the liberation of Balmorra. Before they could get another info out of her, Loyabe died from a posion capsule encased in her teeth. After racing to save Rey’s life, the family decided to return to Alderaan to rest and meet Tharra Rist, Rey’s step mother. The intent to reunite the family once and for all. But the peace wasn’t to be found.

Rhia Kriari 

A Dark Jedi, was waiting for them on Alderaan. She revealed herself to Zeth during a party at the Rist estate for the homecoming of Lord Atzethel Rist. She revealed to him that Loyabe was only one of a number of Imperial spies and assassins that were sent after people like them. Rhia revealed that she and him were born with the same midichlorian anomaly and that another of the children like them, was a Darth by the name of Attroxus who sought to convert or kill the others. She explained that the midichlorian anomaly was the result of a Sith experiment on infusing non-force sensitives with force imbued DNA in the hopes of creating Sith Soldiers. The experiment was discovered by The Dark Council and was shut down, however some of the test subjects managed to escape, including her mother and Zeth and Rey’s father. The experiment did not succeed however, as the altered DNA became unstable, mutating within it’s hosts and killing them violently with explosive bursts of force energy. Exactly the type of mysterious circumstances that Zeth’s father had died under. She convinced Zeth to help her find the other children before Attroxus could. Reyal, Zoee and Nalin agreed to help as well. The five found the other two children, Blanna Gira and Jaysen Karn. During their search, she and Zeth became closer and inevitably began an affair.

Jaysen Karn 

A plucky and optimistic Jedi Knight Ace, he was the first child to be tracked down. Found on Corellia as the last skirmishes of the battle raged. Zeth found him engaged with a Sith Lord named Lord Neystaa. Having been found by this Sith Pureblood assassin and offered to join Darth Attroxus or die. Jaysen, Zeth and Rhia were able to drive Neystaa away. Concerned by what he had heard, Jaysen requested permission to aid the Jedi Shadow Zeth in his mission to uncover the truth behind this new cult. Now with back up from another Jedi Knight, the search became slightly easier as it allowed them to quickly reach their next destination, Alpheridies.

Blanna Gira 

A Miraluka from Alpheridies, is another of the children from the experiment. Zeth and Rhia found her on Alpheridies where see lived and served among The Luka Sene, a group of cultural teachers and guides, acting as a seer and healer. The Sene’s devotees obey only the light side of the force. These teachings helped Blanna to keep her underlying darker urges at bay, though she wouldn’t confess to it, she struggled with this greatly. As she was not a fighter and had taken an oath of pacifism, she had no experience with weaponry and combat, thus Zeth began to train her in lightsaber combat, enough to defend herself if needs be. Though hesitant to go, she had received a vision of Attroxus and knew the danger he presented. She also received a vision of Zeth’s master, Nede Vaa in danger on The Fourth Moon of Yavin. Concerned, Gira informed Zeth, and the group headed for Yavin 4, right into a trap.

Lord Neystaa 

Darth Attroxus’s personal assassin, more machine than flesh. She was one of a pair of twins. She and her brother, Greveron were stationed on Balmorra at the end of the cold war. Zeth had killed Greveron during a battle to disable the planet’s early warning systems. The Brothers had teamed up to take Neystaa out of the fight as well with Zeth pushing her into an adjacent hallway, while Reyal tossed a grenade at her. Badly injured and barely holding on to life, Neystaa was recovered and outfitted with cybernetic replacements for her lost limbs and organs. She was made to be the perfect killing machine. Attroxus offered her a chance at revenge for herself and her brother and she jumped at the chance. After an unsuccessful duel on Corellia, Neystaa set a trap for Zeth’s Master, Nede Vaa, on Yavin 4. The Force User group arrived in time to see Neystaa slay Master Vaa, sending Zeth into a fit of rage. Uncoordinated and less adept in some cases (such as Blanna), Neystaa was able to hold her own. She succeeded in destroying Zeth’s double-bladed lightsaber and toss aside Jaysen, Blanna and Rhia. Seeing Rhia get injured was the final straw for Zeth who managed to take one of Neystaa’s twin sabers and over powered her with heavy crushing blows. Zeth was victorious in defeating her but rather than show mercy, he violently killed her instead. The group used Neystaa’s ship to track the co-ordinates of Attroxus’s ship. Though Zeth was disgusted with himself, they still had a mission to do.

Darth Attroxus

Born a slave of The Empire, Attroxus demonstrated a strong affinity for the Force at a young age. He was taken to the Academy on Korriban at age 7 where he faced extraordinary hard ship due to his race. In spite of the torment, Attroxus was able to rise to become one of the most promising students. He knew within himself that he was more powerful that the other acolytes and considered him better than them. He rationalized that they picked upon his race because it was the only way to put him down. If he was human, he thought, he would have been on the fast track to a lord. Upon completing his final trial, Attroxus returned to the Academy to discover that he had been passed over for the opportunity to become an apprentice. Enraged, he murdered the overseer and his fellow acolyte. The Lord whom wished to take the student, found Attroxus amusing and took him as an apprentice in place of the murdered on. Eventually, Attroxus began to eclipse his master in power and killed him, at which point, he assumed the title of Lord of The Sith for himself. Attroxus became interested in his power. He knew he was more powerful than the average Sith, and began delving into his parentage. He came across information about the experiments and became obsessed with them. However, power comes with a price. From giving into the Dark Side of The Force for so long, his mutated DNA became stronger and threatened to consume his body just as the original experiment subjects. It instilled in him a goal, to find the others like him. To perfect the experiment process, and rise to his rightful place as Emperor. His plans would not come to fruition. The Furcifer strike team was able to land on his Ship and while the force users set out to find Attroxus, Reyal, Nalin and Zoee began to disable the ship and plant explosives at key areas. All The Force Users engaged in a duel however Attroxus quickly realized that he was outmatched and began to feed his power-hungry cells for more power. It gave him the advantage however, in trying, he lost control of his power as his body began to deteriorate rapidly. The Furcifers managed to escape as the bridge exploded in a blast of energy, killing Attroxus.

#long post #anto's ramblings #the furcifer legacy #if you made it to the end #i commend you #i will probably do a part two just to show off a couple of the supporting characters #but these were my main toons #i hope you enjoyed this self indulgent ramble #oc: reyal bradack #oc: zeth rist #oc: nalin bradack #oc: rhia kriari #oc: jaysen karn #oc: blanna gira #oc: lord neystaa #oc: darth attroxus

[bekahdoesnerdshit]

no one else has reblogged ask meme Mondays so I'm just going fucking apeshit with u. from the big boy: b7 for raini bc it's funny, c1 for cog bc it's inchresting, h3 for brilliance bc I know there's some gay shit going on and I want to hear more, then a17 (character proud of themselves or ur proud of ur rp as them) L5 and L6 for whomsoever u want to talk about

I won’t need a readmore for this one, I tell myself. There’s not that many questions, and they’re not proseboys. I was a fool. She’s too long to be allowed to run on people’s dashboards unrestrained 😔 Thank you! For going apeshit!!

Raini

B7. How do they respond to babies crying in public? I guarantee the image you have for how Raini would react to a crying baby is 10000% correct. She’s unhappy. Uncomfortable. Unimpressed. Can you please make that thing be quiet. Why did you have it if you can’t mange it. This is why she’s never having kids. Like she’s not gonna say anything to the parents or shoot them dirty looks, because she’s not that specific flavor of asshole, but she’s going Mind Her Business and vacate the premises if possible. People who want to take care of something should just get a cat. Goddamn. There is ONE (1) baby that may qualify for an exception, and that’s Red. This is because (and please, picture Raini, the absolute picture of ‘fed up’, squatting down to look a fussy Red in the eye while she says this) “Baby Lent. You’re better than this. I know you are, and you’re letting me down. You need to stop making that noise.” This is unrelated to the question, but please also picture a Raini who was asked (blackmailed?) into babysitting using her Mage Hand to change Red’s diaper. It has nothing to do with the question but I think it’s a Very funny mental image. Thank you.

Cog

C1. Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it? Absolutely! The way Cog approaches the world is defined by three main mantras: - Kindness is a discipline, not a character trait. - Doing the right thing isn’t always easy, but it is always worth doing. - If you are able to help someone, you have an obligation to do so. Between these three things, Cog sees the world in pretty black and white terms. There are right decisions, and wrong ones. The difference between the two is usually clear to anyone who cares to look, and so most of the evil in the world is born of selfishness. Consequently, Cog does very poorly in morally grey situations. She will commit without hesitation to any course of action that she deems “right” and “kind” no matter how drastic or dangerous it is, but she pretty much shuts down the second she’s faced with a decision that has consequences for someone regardless of what she does.  I’m sure that has not, and will not, come in her life ever at all. Ahah!  I think originally, this worldview was born of naivety. She grew up that religious kind of super sheltered where everything in the secular world was dangerous and dirty, and so when Cog began to realize that definitely wasn’t the case she made the choice to intentionally see the best in people and the world around her to fight what she was told growing up. When she started traveling with her party and actually seeing more of the world than the extremes of a) shitty cult town b) shiny clean magic school, she began to realize that the true state of the Wasteland was somewhere between what her Mama had told her and what she wanted to believe it was. But I’ve never in my life made a character who is stubborn as hell deep down, so instead of letting the world she found herself in change her Cog took a deep breath, rolled up her sleeves, and settled in to be the one changing it by loving and helping the people around her.

Brilliance

H3. Does your OC believe there’s only one ideal partner (or multiple ideal if not monogamous) for everyone, or that there are many people who could be right? I think Brilliance absolutely adores the idea of two people being made for one another. Two souls, wandering the world looking for one another? Who slot together so perfectly that when they find each other it’s clear they never could have fit anywhere else? Bruh. Yes, she knows love takes work. Sometimes you and your partner are going to disagree, and sometimes there’s going to be conflict. The world isn’t “love at first sight” then smooth sailing for the rest of your life. But you put in the work to make your lives better, together, because the universe gave you this person to care for. Maybe there are many people who you could be happy with, and those relationships aren’t anything to look down on. But when you find The One, Brilliance thinks, you know. She certainly did.

Don’t Worry About It

A17. What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves? Gonna hijack this question to talk about rp moments I’m proud of because Alex sorta kinda gave me permission to do that! Alright! For Raini, the biggest rp moment I’m proud of was her “I’m getting our memories back” speech a few sessions ago, specifically the line, “We’ve been fighting with one hand tied behind our backs for too long. If we’re going to die fighting this thing, I want to know exactly what I’m fighting for.” Morgan and I had been planning to kick off our return from July Hell Hiatus with Wish Two for a couple of days, which meant I was lucky enough to be able to spend a little while planning what to say. I feel like that line in particular embodies Raini’s unwavering confidence in her magic, her determination, and her specific brand of caring for the people around her without actually admitting that’s what she’s doing. I also really liked the way the scene of her apologizing to the party for being Bitchy post losing Magic for a minute went! Idk if anyone else remembers it, because it was pretty short in game, but! I thought it was a very good moment of Raini finding the most Roundabout way to say “thank you for looking out for me while I was defenseless”.  If I can pat myself on the back a little, my Cog monologues kick Ass. The most recent one was when she was talking to Ace about how War is Bad (radical, I know) and there was a moment where she looked at him and said, “...I’m not going to ask for your help, because I don’t know what I’ll do if I do and you say no.” Which. OOF. That was her and I realizing in real time that she and Ace were very much on different sides of this issue. When the session ended everyone said they Loved how good and hurtful that conversation was and I :’) Also, there was a really small moment when Cog was pleading for Maelo’s life (when Sunny’s dad had him locked in a cat carrier. It’s a Long story, made slightly better by the fact that Maelo was wildshaped into a cat at the time) and Cog went Straight for the dad heartstrings by sniffling and asking if, please, would Robert at least let her say goodbye to her friend before he killed him? Please? 😢  She is using her baby face for EVIL!  And oh my god how could I forget! Arcane Timeout! When the party went back to New Alexandria and was confronted by Ace for helping a prisoner escape (which, in fairness, Maelo did do) and Cog brought the encounter screeching to a halt by casting Wall of Stone to make a timeout hut with herself and Ace inside. She then sat herself down, looked Ace dead in the eye, and told him that the wall wasn’t coming down until he actually talked to her, or until he broke her concentration on the spell. She banked hard on him not being willing to hurt her, and it paid off. There were tears all around, both in and out of character. It was Wonderful. Also! I do just want recognition for the fact that I did not give into my impulses to be a little Shit as Cog last session by subtle casting Heal in Ace’s face after he Counterspelled my Healing Word. it was what I Rebekah wanted to do more than anything; unfortunately Cog is a better person than I am. There is No worse feeling than wanting so badly to do something you have no choice but to admit isn’t in character. Rip.  For whatever reason, all of my favorite Brilliance rp moments came during combat. Pressing her forehead to Sabre’s after he died in silent grief, forcefully taking a Narzugon off his Nightmare and then using Misty Step to mount it herself and take off after her friend, planting herself in the chokepoint of a hallway to stare down three minotaurs so she could keep her party safe behind her, pushing deeper into the hellwasp nest to rescue Dembe and Sabre despite knowing that doing so all but destroyed her chance of making it out alive, the list goes on. There were good out of combat moments too (despite the rest of the party’s best efforts 🙄), but I feel like for once I made a character who really shone in combat.  oh GOD I just remembered one really really good rp moment, when our rogue Zihro died when he got separated from the party during combat. We finished taking care of the main devil we were fighting, then began searching the dungeon for Zihro and the npc he was with. We, instead, found both of their corpses. Dembe looked to Brilliance, our healer, and demanded to know why she was just standing there instead of fixing their friend. We were only level three or four at the time, so Brilliance had to tell Dembe, again and again, that she couldn’t fix Zihro. It was too late, she wasn’t powerful enough yet, her goddess wouldn’t answer a prayer like that- It was a rough scene, and without question one of the best rp moments I’ve had with that group. Tae, if you’re reading this, you’re the only one with rights. Also, please unfollow this blog immediately.  Now as a quick pick-me-up after that mess, Pip’s best rp moment was when our barbarian Durokal -who couldn’t read and had a habit of running off and causing Problems- found a plaque he could tell had five words on it, and called Pip over to read it for him when Pip finished chasing him down. Pip, annoyed and out of breath and all of two feet tall, looked up at this 7 foot half-orc and told him, “It says: I’m. Gonna. Kick. Your. Ass.” Also, he regularly called very powerful figures in Barovia by sweet nicknames with “Mr.” in the front. As a sign of Respect. Because he’s the Best. sdfhsdkfj he also he couldn’t think of a fake name quick enough one time so he told an npc that is name was Dick and he was Very embarrassed about it. She: bought it!

Brilliance, Again

L5. Which OC do you think is the most decent morally or behaviorally?  AKA, which is supposed to a “good guy”? The answer is Cog, but we already went in depth on her morals this ask. She’s HAD enough screen time let’s move on. Brilliance is the only other character who, if asked, would say they saw themselves as a good guy instead of just “a person”. She strives to do right by the people around her, and to protect the light and beauty found in the world. She doesn’t have the same illusions about the world wanting to be a good place that Cog does, and she very much understands that sometimes the best thing you can do for the world is to put the things that make it dangerous six feet under. What’s interesting I think is that, despite being a paladin, she isn’t Lawful Good! She’s Neutral Good, because you know what? She wants to do the right thing, and laws aren’t always right. It’s up to you, as a person with a mind and free will and agency, to look at a situation and decide what you think is the right thing to do. And, for Brilliance, generally the right thing to do is heft her sword, raise her shield, and face trouble head on.

Raini, Once More

L6. Which OC do you think is the worst morally or behaviorally? AKA, which is supposed to be a “bad guy”? I don’t have any evil aligned characters, because I personally find things like “getting along with my party members” sexy, but the character who’s the shittiest and the worst is obviously Raini. She’s not a bad person per say, she’s just selfish and results oriented. Very much “the ends justify the means” and in a party like hers she’s aware that somebody has to be the bad guy sometimes, and she’s not afraid to make sure that’s her. She’s also very very likely to fall victim to her hubris making her feel like she definitely knows what’s best, and acting on that maybe without consulting other people (see: the whole fucking premise of the campaign). She sees a goal, she sees a way to accomplish that goal, so why shouldn’t she begin taking the necessary steps to reach it? I think the events of the game have mellowed this flaw out a little bit, but you can still see traces of it in the way she, for example, wordlessly handed Lent a bunch of diamonds before launching her consciousness into the Abeast and very nearly dying in there without consulting with the party first. It happens!  Also, behaviorally, she’s just. I mean. She’s like that. The worst. And that, I promise, will never change. 

#syn-odics #Rainivere #amnesia campaign #cog #wasteland campaign #brilliance #dia #word count: 2273 #new tag! just for my own personal edification #answered #mine

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ THE HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY / CHAPTERS 00 –– 03 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse. some perspective / pronouns have been changed to better fit for sending.

“Orbiting this small unregarded yellow sun at a distance of roughly ninety-eight million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.”

“The planet has a problem which is this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time.”

“Lots of people were mean, and most of them were miserable, even the ones with digital watches.”

“She finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place.”

“This time is was right, it would work, and no one would have to get nailed to anything.”

“A terrible, stupid catastrophe occurred, and the idea was lost forever.”

“It was probably the most remarkable book to ever come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor.”

“It was set in a size and proportion which more or less exactly failed to please the eye.”

“The thing that used to worry me most was the fact that people always used to ask me what I was looking so worried about.”

“I always used to tell my friends it was a lot more interesting than they probably thought.”

“The bulldozer outside the kitchen window was quite a big one.”

“I began to suspect that I was hungover.”

“He vaguely remembered being angry about something, angry about something that seemed important.”

“He was out of the house and lying in front of a big yellow bulldozer that was advancing up his garden path.”

“[Name] was, as they say, only human.”

“He was forty, fat and shabby, and worked for the local council.”

“He was by no means a great warrior. In fact, he was a nervous, worried man.”

“You can’t lie in front of the bulldozer indefinitely.”

“I’m game. We’ll see who rusts first.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to accept it.”

“He didn’t know why –– he just liked axes.”

“Obviously someone had been appallingly incompetent.”

“You were quite entitled to make any suggestions or protests at the appropriate time, you know.”

“You hadn’t exactly gone out of your way to call attention to them, had you.”

“It’s not as if it’s a particularly nice house.”

“Shut up and go away, and take your bloody bypass with you.”

“You haven’t got a leg to stand on and you know it.”

“I’m often bothered with visions like these and they make me feel very nauseous.”

“Have you any idea how much damage that bulldozer would suffer if I let it roll straight over you?”

“There was something very slightly odd about him, but it was difficult to say what it was.”

“He’s eccentric, but harmless.”

“Evenings like this usually end badly.”

“Fifteen years was a long time to get stranded anywhere, particularly somewhere as mind-bogglingly dull as the Earth.”

“I know how to flag flying saucers down and get lifts from them.”

“Is there anywhere we can talk?”

“It’s vitally important that we talk and drink.”

“I’ve got to tell you the most important thing you’ve ever heard.”

“You’re going to need a very stiff drink.”

“He usually played to lose.”

“Can we, for a moment, assume he hasn’t come to his senses?”

“Get up and let the man lie down.”

“I felt like my whole life was some kind of dream.”

“The mere thought hadn’t even begun to speculate about the merest possibility of crossing my mind.”

“The best drink in existence is the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.”

“Six pints of bitter. And quickly please, the world’s about to end.”

“The barman didn’t deserve this sort of treatment.”

“No one could understand what he was smiling at them for.”

“Would you please tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.”

“Reader’s Digest has a page for people like you.”

“Did I do anything wrong today, or has the world always been like this and I’ve been too wrapped up in myself to notice?”

“How would you react if I said I wasn’t from here after all, but from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse?”

“Do you think it’s the sort of thing you’re likely to say?”

“I never could get the hang of Thursday.”

“A towel is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker could have.”

“A towel has immense psychological value.”

“It hardly makes a difference at this stage. Let them have their fun.”

“You vandals! You home wreckers! You half-crazed Visigoths!”

“I couldn’t believe the conversation I was having.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do about it then?”

“I thought that if the world was going to end we were meant to lie down or put a paper bag over our head or something.”

“I’ll have you hung, drawn and quartered! And whipped! And boiled until you’ve had enough.”

“A sudden silence hit. If anything it was worse than the noise.”

“There’s no point in acting all surprised about it.”

“You’ve had plenty of time to lodge any formal complaint and it’s far too late to start making a fuss about it now.”

“I’m sorry, but if you can’t be bothered to take an interest in local affairs that’s your own lookout.”

“Apathetic bloody planet, I’ve no sympathy at all.”

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence meme #sentence starters #starter sentences #KIND / SENTENCE. #KIND / IN CHARACTER. #BASED ON / LITERATURE.

[mznvbns]

fun long ship meme!~ ( nicholas&hermina)

1) did your muse fall in love with mine quickly, or was it a long process?

SLOW BURN 500K NOT REALLY ENEMIES BUT THEY DON’T LIKE EACH OTHER BUT EVENTUALLY THEY TURN INTO FRIENDS AND HERMINA STILL DOESN’T REALLY LIKE HIM BUT ONE CATCHES FEELINGS, THEN THE OTHER CATCHES FEELINGS, AND HERMINA GOES INTO DENIAL, REJECTS NICO THE FIRST TIME BECAUSE SHE’S SCARED OF RELATIONSHIPS BUT EVENTUALLY GIVES HIM A CHANCE AND THEY GET TOGETHER ― yes, a really long process.

2) have they ever asked my muse to dance? do they even dance with my muse at all?

hermina isn’t the type to dance with anyone, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t. they dance together mostly at elijah’s parties, and even when on their own with some music in the background.

3) are they the type to steal food from my muse’s plate?

hermina doesn’t like it when other people steal food from her plate, she is even willing to stab their hands with her fork or whatever she has at hand (because she can make anything a weapon) ― so why would she steal from other nicholas’ plates? yet that doesn’t stop nicholas from stealing food from her, but as a result he has to bear the beast he’d unleash.

4) does your muse ever cook for mine? if so, is it good – or does it suck ass?

hermina always cooks. she doesn’t even let nicholas touch pans and food when in the kitchen because she knows that the only thing he can do is BAKE weed brownies. other than that, he’s a hazard in the kitchen, either to burn it down or food poison everyone. but eventually, he begins to learn a thing or two from his girlfriend and gets better at it.

5) what’s something they do when my muse is down?

oh when hermina is down it’s so painfully obvious ― because everyone is scared of her since she turns her sadness into anger as a defence mechanism. she becomes more snappy, easier to push the buttons and making her fairly dangerous to deal with as if she’s a ticking bomb. most people tend to stay away, let the anger dissipate until she’s more friendly... but not nicholas. he walks into the nuclear field and takes in every bombing until there aren’t any, then when hermina is out of the will to be the definition of anger itself, nicholas takes them somewhere quiet, where he knows it’s only the two of them and they sit down. nicholas hugging her to his chest and waiting until she opens up... which she does. and later on, they go to buy ice cream because as much as hermina hates to admit, nicholas is right when it’s a good medicine when you’re down.

6) what’s a topic they’re scared of talking about with my muse?

hermina’s past with her mother. as a result, her mother is also quite a touchy subject. she never liked talking about it even with her own family, and when nicholas first asked about it, hermina instantly shut him out with a “it’s none of your business”. but eventually, they do talk about it since it’s made the girl she turned into. but even if they talk about it, whenever it is bound to come up in a conversation, nicholas knows his girlfriend doesn’t like it yet also knows it’s something she needs.

7) are they the type who’s affectionate? if so - how do they show their affection? if not, is there a reason they’re not affectionate?

hermina never openly displays her affection, not in the way bruno and ellie do, but she does small actions here and there since she quite easily gets flustered. if anything, she most willing to hold hands, wrap an arm around nicholas’ waist when they walk side by side, even a quick peck on the cheek... now a peck on the lips is the rarest in public, nicholas only gets one if they’re alone. 

8) are they the type to go on dates? if so, to where?

most people are surprised to find out they go dates quite often. and they can go anywhere, literally, though mostly to cheap places because both of them never like to spend much money and as long as it’s good and they have fun, or even eat and they like, then it’s perfect.

9) would they stay in bed with mine all day? if so, doing what?

hermina doesn’t really like staying in bed, if anything consider her proactive and is always pushing the both of them to get something done throughout the day instead of lazying around, but... there would be days she feels soft enough to comply to her boyfriend’s wishes to staying in bed. they would most likely be sleeping for longer hours, and nicholas makes it fairly easy for hermina when they sleep together but eventually she would have them watching some films on the laptop or even borrow noah’s video games so they can play together. which more often than not has hermina wanting to throw the controller on the floor because she’s quite bad at playing, but nicholas teaches her some tricks.

10) what’s a typical night between our muses look like?

nicholas doesn’t like to stay in his house very often by the hours towards the end of the day, and hermina is always willing to go out with him if wants her company and even offers for him to come inside to spend time with her family. they would be most likely to be playing board games with her siblings and it would be all fun and games until hermina catches noah or ellie cheating and she breaks hell on earth to run after them.

11) do they read together? if so, what?

hermina likes to read... but alone. she likes the silence of her surroundings and when she’s with nicholas, for most part she won’t be granted such silence. so no, they don’t read together

12) who washes the other’s hair in the shower?

hermina washes nicholas’ hair most of the time as to show her affection more often since she feels that yes, it is unfair that she open with her emotions as much as she wishes she would be or even affectionate. so, she does that much most of them time. but nicholas also does the same whenever she allows.

13) who is the driver? or do they switch places? or do none of them drive?

both of them are drivers, but mostly nicholas, but sometimes hermina also drives the both of them.

14) who likes to smack who’s ass for no reason other than laughs? or are they both well-behaved?

NICHOLAS. and he runs for it afterwards because hermina always wants to strangle him when he does so. the only time you’ll catch her doing it back if after you feed her a couple of drinks when she’s gone fully affectionate and smacking nicholas’ ass so hard he jumps and has to take a couple of breaths in because her hands stay there for a while, so he’s having a taste of his own medicine.

15) do they like movies? if so what movies would they watch with mine?

both of them like a fair amount of activities, they hang out in every place there is hang out and the movies are no exception. hermina and nicholas are all up for watching any movie there is to watch, sometimes, both of them would even make it a goal to watch all the movies there are in the cinema and even at home they would just grab any movie on a whim -- although hermina doesn’t care for what movie they watch, nicholas usually likes to watch marvel movies or even dc, yet he brings it upon himself to hear the critics that hermina has to say and therefore end up talking about all the movies afterwards.

16) do they communicate their problems or are they the type to hold everything in until someone becomes upset?

hermina is so, so, SO blunt that sometimes nicholas wishes she would hold it in sometimes. at the beginning of the relationship it might’ve been that way in regards of certain things, yet the more she began to open up, nicholas is very thankful but at the same time, he finds it scary on how forward she is about everything.

17) do you see them as the marrying type? 

hermina previously would never, in a million years, think nicholas would be the marriage type. nope, she’s even had thoughts before they got into a relationship given ellie would be teasing her about it wherein they would never last long as a month without her wanting to skin him alive or throwing him off a hill or a window... yet we all know how that turned out because she is now head over heels (but she would never say that)

18) if they had kids, who would be the fun parent?

nicholas FOR SURE. hermina would be the strict parent, always making sure their homework gets done for school and the type to go “you want to go to a party? okay, but i want that project for school done a day before you go at the latest” whilst nicholas would just swoop the mess beneath the carpet, “go on, i’ll handle mum.” but hermina can be fun sometimes too, never not letting their children do what they want as long as they’re responsible about it.

19) do they get along with my muse’s parents?

nicholas’ parents think that hermina is a miracle and a blessing. how could someone so responsible and driven be their son’s girlfriend? they want her to stay forever and are always nice to her, but that doesn’t really mean she likes them because she knows what they’re like with her boyfriend. to the point she is willing to defend him when she sees them going too far in talking badly about nicholas.

#axlrzse #trigger: LONG ASS POST #EU AMO ELES #QUE SACO O RELACIONAMENTE DELES EH CHAOTIC GOOD SABE MAS EU AMO #￤ * 꽃 . 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ––– hermina & nicholas .

[moveslikebuckywrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ellen Degeneres Additional Tags: Crack, Memes, I have no excuses, shenanigans with the "fuck shit up jacket", because of course it is, never thought I'd tag Ellen in a fic Summary:

What happens when a demon decides to use old memes from 2010 and his "fuck shit up jacket" to cause a ruckus in Soho?

This, apparently.

~~~

I have no excuses this is a crackfic that came about from a conversation in the Ineffable Outliers Discord with myself, @apple-duty​, and @cassandrasummer​ xD

~~~

An undetermined Friday, post Armageddon.  Mayfair, London

Anyone walking down the street in Mayfair that night would hear shouting.  Or at least they would, but the walls of the flat knew better than to let any sound out without permission.  If one were to look through the window, one would see an iPhone slam against a concrete wall1.

Crowley had been trying to get a hold of Aziraphale for well past two days, with no answer.  He’d driven by the shop, but the angel had been out both times.  He, of course, did not want to appear like he cared so scoping out the shop more than necessary was completely out of the question2.

He sat in his ostentatious throne seething; how dare Aziraphale avoid him like this.  Two could play it this game, and he could play very demonically if he wanted to.

Crowley stood and went to the closet in his bedroom and pulled out two very specific items.  A black jacket with reflective orange tape and a large, oddly shaped black case.

Yes, two could play at this game.  And if the angel wanted to ignore him, he’d make that task impossible.

---

6:00 AM Saturday morning; the sidewalk outside of A.Z. Fell and Co.  Soho, London

“C’mon, Linda, just pop on back to mine for a bit, yer mum ain’t gonna know!”

“Danny ya absolute toss, I’ll do no such thing!”

The young couple swayed through the near empty streets of Soho, drunk on wine and each other’s company.

“But Linda-“

“Don’t ‘But Linda’ me Danny Williams,” Linda says, pointing a shaky finger in his face with no real bite behind her words, “We ain’t been dating but a fortnight and you ain’t gettin’ me in the bed that easily!”

“But Linda, when I’m with you I can…I can…” Danny grasped for something, anything to say, “I can hear music!”

“Cheek!” she said but looped her arm back in his anyway and leaned against him as they started back down the street.

“Really can, ya know?” Danny said with more than a little bounce in his step, “Really snazzy saxophone music!”

“Danny,” Linda pointed towards a tall ginger man in a utilities uniform, “I think it’s that man in front of old Mr. Fell’s.”

Sure enough, as they got closer, the man was playing on a saxophone.  At six am outside of a bookshop.  This would seem to have no discernable reason, but the great thing about the human brain in the way She made it is that when there is no reason, that’s reason enough.

“Well I dunno why he’s doing it, but for a telephone worker he sure is great at those few bars of whatever that is.”

“Sounds familiar though, don’t it?” Linda said quizzically, “Wonder where I’ve heard it before?”

“Either way, it’s Soho on a weekend, he’s probably just a sloshed as we are.”

“Probably so, now walk me home you old buffoon.”

Danny and Linda strolled off arm in arm and the obvious utility worker kept playing on.

---

8:00 AM Saturday morning; the sidewalk outside of A.Z. Fell and Co.  Soho, London

Bill Waters was a patient man.  An upstanding member of the community.  A lawyer.  He dressed in smart suits and was never seen without his pork pie hat.  He had an image.

They had scoffed when he’d opened his practice in Soho.  They’d laughed.  But now?  Oh, now, he was one of the most respected litigators in London.

He prided himself on his work ethic, his attention to detail, and his meticulous methods.  He prided himself on his patience with his clients, with his family, and with anyone who he met.  The community loved him, his neighbors loved him, his family adored him.

Which is why several people milling around the early morning streets were shocked to see him jumping up and down and yelling at a street performer.

“Sir, I demand in the name of common decency that you stop this at once!” Bill shouted, face turning a rather embarrassing shade one could liken to a tomato plant, “It’s been two bloody hours!3”

If the man from the utilities paid any mind to him, he didn’t let it show.  Just kept playing the same four bars over and over again.

“I will call your superiors!  What are you even supposed to be doing?!”

The man just continued with his smooth beats and rhythmic dancing.  Was it dancing?  Could barely call it that in the first place.  Like something out of a bad 1970’s instructional video.

Bill continued to yell; the man continued to ignore it.

This just wouldn’t do, Bill resolved to phone the utilities company at once.  He threw his hat down in frustration and stormed back across the street to his offices.

---

10:00 AM Saturday morning; the sidewalk outside of A.Z. Fell and Co.  Soho, London

“D’you think he lost some kind of bet?”

“Dunno…sounds familiar though, doesn’t it?”

“Ain’t this that shit from Eurovision like ten years ago?  The saxophone guy?”

Nathan, Alice, and Jude were gathered around the strange man with the saxophone.  They’d already tossed some money in his hat and were waiting for him to get around to taking requests.  They were also by far not the only ones in the crowd.

“It is!” Alice said pulling up YouTube on her phone, “It’s the Epic Sax Guy music!”

“Christ that meme is older than dirt,” Jude said grimacing, “Why you reckon he’s doing this?”

“Maybe Mr. Fell pissed him off,” Nathan said, laughing, “He’s pissed off enough people around here with those weird hours.”

“Dad said he’s been at it since six this morning,” Alice (last name of Waters) said, “That’s four hours ago!  That’s insane!”

“We oughta put it up somewhere, do a live stream or something.  See how long he goes!”

“You know, Nathan, maybe we should,” Jude said, pulling out his cell phone, “Hell, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

The saxophone man played on.

---

11:00 AM Saturday morning; the news offices of the BBC

“Christ, William, it must be a slow day if this is what you’re giving me.” Margaret, producer for the BBC Weekend News said angrily into the phone receiver, “You really expect me to send reporters out to video a street performer in Soho?  As if they aren’t a dime a dozen?”

She listened to the murmuring on the other end of the line, “Five hours?  The whole time?  And he’s dressed like what?  A utilities worker?  What do you mean Twitter?”

Margaret pulled out her phone and opened the app, clicking through to the trending page.  Sure enough, there at number one: #UtilitySaxMan.

“Well, it is a slow day.  Fine, send someone, just try to find me something real to put on the air by tonight, yes?  I can’t just be putting Twitter fluff on the air!”

Margret slammed the phone back on the receiver and shook her head.  What was the news world coming to these days?  She blamed the millennials.

---

11:30 AM London time (3:30 AM California time).  The Montecito home of Ellen DeGeneres

“I’m just saying we need this guy on the show.  You know how much the audience loves an internet celebrity.  Yes, that’s why I called you, because you’re in London.”

To the dismay of her wife who just wanted to sleep, Ellen was on the phone at 3:30 in the morning with one of the show’s associates in England.  Once she got the idea to have someone on her show, there really wasn’t much anyone could do to stop her.

“So, no one knows who this guy is?  He just showed up with a saxophone and started playing? Well that won’t stop us.  Just go down there and talk to him when he stops playing.  I just need him on my show, he’s trending like crazy, the memes are ridiculous!”

“I should probably go, but don’t let me down!  This guy is insane, he should be a star!”

She hung up as Portia throws a pillow at her.

---

1:00 PM Saturday morning; the sidewalk outside of A.Z. Fell and Co.  Soho, London

“Play Single Ladies!” A voice from the gathered crowd shouted.

“Shut up, he’s not taking requests!” Jude shouted back at them.

“What are you, his agent?”

“I might be after this is over, you don’t know that!” Jude hissed from behind his phone, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up.

The livestream was an immediate hit.  He’s been inundated with new followers and reaction memes4. Even the BBC was here, along with several people in strange getups.  He’d gotten three direct tweets from Ellen DeGeneres already, though he couldn’t answer.  Not while the livestream was going.

This dude was insane.  He never stopped; he was like a damn machine.  Just kept playing and dancing (badly) and playing.  He ignored everyone around him, ignored that his hat was now full past capacity of spare change and 1£ notes.

It was like he was on a mission, though what that mission could be was anyone’s guess.

“Young man, have you any idea who this fellow is?” one of the men, this one wearing a monocle, asked him.

“Nah, can’t say that I do,” said Jude, “I mean, he hangs out at Mr. Fell’s shop a lot, seems to know him.  Dunno why he’s doing this though.”

“Did you hear that?” the man in the suit said to another, this one with a two-tone wig, “He knows the bookshop owner!  That’s our in!”

---

3:00 PM Saturday morning; the sidewalk outside of A.Z. Fell and Co.  Soho, London

“It is clearly a performance showing the prevalence of man over the subjugation of the corporate world!  He celebrates his union job by playing this jubilant music!” said the man in the two-tone wig.

“I beg to differ; it is quite certainly a cry at the unjust conditions faced by workers!” said the man with a monocle.

These two had exactly three things in common:  They were art critics, they were insufferable, and they had been arguing about this for the better part of two hours.

“How can you be so daft?  The rawness and realness and power of this performance can only be described as euphoric!”

“Ah but you fail to take into account the monotony and the repetitive action!  This man is in a prison of his own creation!  A brilliant metaphor for the world under capitalism!”

The two men continued arguing and were approached by a man in a tan coat that was about one hundred and fifty years out of date.

“Pardon me, gentlemen,” the man said, “But could you possibly tell me what all of the commotion is outside of my bookshop?”

“Oh, my goodness, you must be Mr. Fell!  And you haven’t heard?!” shouted the first critic, acting as though he might faint, “The art world is completely a buzz!”

“It would seem, my friend, that the next great performance artist of our times has taken up residence outside your bookshop!  Please, please introduce us to him!”

Mr. Fell looked confused as he tore away from the art critics and through the crowd.  Past the young man with the camera, past the BBC News van, and past some Americans speaking very loudly into their cell phones.

“Crowley, what on Earth are you doing?”

The saxophone music stops abruptly.  All eyes turn and focus on Mr. Fell.

“Oh, hello Angel…” the saxophone man stammers, “Just..uh…”

Before anyone can say anything, Mr. Fell storms forward and grabs the saxophone man by the arm, ushering him into the bookshop, behind a sign that clearly says “CLOSED”.

The crowd disperses, first the news van, then the passerby, then the art critics and the Americans.  Jude stands there for a moment wondering what just happened.

He soon forgets why he was there in the first place, and if Twitter held any clues for him, they’re long gone now.  Later, he'd look in his book-bag and find it full of loose change and 1£ notes.

Just an ordinary Saturday in Soho.

---

3:15 PM Saturday afternoon; inside A.Z. Fell and Co.  Soho, London

“Would you care to explain, dear,” Aziraphale says as he unpacks his leather satchel, “just why you’re playing saxophone on my front stoop?  And the news vans?  And the art critics.  You know how much I hate art critics!”

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Crowley says sulking on his favorite couch, “Got mad.”

“And did you conveniently forget dinner last week when I told you I’d be in Munich for a book auction for a few days?” Aziraphale shoots him a pointed look, “or were you just not listening in the first place?”

“Ngk.”

“I see,” the angel says, turning back to his books in a huff, “and how long were you out there?”

Crowley mumbled.

"Didn't quite catch that."

"I said ten hours," Crowley snapped, "Doing very demonic things, ruining everyone's weekend.  Can take the demon out of hell but not hell out of the demon and all that." He crossed his arms over his chest and sulked lower into the couch than should be possible.

Aziraphale smiled to himself as he put away his new books, “Yes of course, my dear.  Is that why you brought out the 'mess stuff up' jacket?Brightening everyone’s day with a bit of music, giving the BBC something to talk about?  Such a demonic level of happiness out in the street today.”

“I-well-well,you-I-“ Crowley stammered, jumping up to stalk behind the angel to prove his point, “I made an old bloke with a pork pie hat have a fit, right in the middle of the street!”

Aziraphale sighed, Crowley was never quite as smooth as he pretended to be, and the angel saw right through him.

“My dear you are quite ridiculous, next time just come with me then you won’t feel the need for this nonsense.”

Crowley shoved his hands back in his pockets, trying to look aloof and failing, “I mean…I guess.  Could use a vacation.  Plenty of demonic wiles to get up to outside the country.  Gotta keep you out of trouble...of course.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, clasping his hands together, “There we go then, problem solved!”

If the angel knew it was an excuse on the demon’s part to spend more time with him, he didn’t say.  Nor did he mind in the slightest.

-----

1 – The iPhone, of course, knew better than to break.  Just who’s apartment do you think we’re dealing with here, hmm?

2 – Least of all because he was scared of a certain angel picking up on a certain demon’s propensity to be what the kids referred to as a stage five clinger.

3 – In Bill Waters’ defense, he’d been late at the office the previous night working on a particularly challenging case.  He’d been so exhausted, when the saxophone started up at around 6 am he’d thought himself hallucinating.

4 – Some choice memes that were shared on twitter:

#link #good omens #my fic #aziraphale #crowley #epic sax guy #special guest appearance of the 'fuck shit up jacket' #this is ridiculous y'all can blame the discord xD #sorry not sorry #I made memes for this #I went on meme generators and made MEMES for this

[hell-heron]

Hey bb 💙 talk about Worthless to Two for the meme?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900666

There's... so much to unpack about that one. On one hand it was a total flop (understandably no one wants to read 12k of angsty and kinda moralistic bullshit) and I don't like... particularly like it? Like I sometimes do narcissism-rereads of my stuff but this one just doesn't inspire it, just didn't come out well I think. But on the other idk I'm really proud of trying at least. It was an important to me theme and I was really happy to manage to write a bit of R&J fluff.

The biggest challenge was to make Mercutio and Benvolio have psychological sense as characters despite what they do being well... so out of character. It made me wonder several times how people who actually write the death faking trope in earnest manage to do it keeping a straight face lol. It's my first time properly writing Mercutio's POV too and I especially loved his parts. I generally headcanon him with some poly tendencies and I really love the idea of him being in love with Tybalt, Benvolio and Romeo all at once and seriously distressed by having to choose when all of them represent different parts of him. And his relationship to Tybalt really is only mildly the most dysfunctional one... I really want to elaborate on that when I can write again agh.

I also had... big ideas of the Montacrew dysfunction that idk how well translated on paper. They really love each other a lot, but they're possessive of each other too, so when there are moments such as this one where one of them (here Romeo) wants something different from life they're really quick to lash out/feel like the one doesn't love the other two anymore. They have a lot of On Dit-like moments is what I'm saying. And they're all three prone to feeling third-wheel and misunderstood, though it's harder on Romeo because he's younger and naturally very sensitive (and also he has picked up on the romance between the other two). 

So... you really should have given me a section lmao this is long as shit, some random things i wanted to say are 

- At the scene where Mercutio is doing Romeo's make up and they have the Charged conversation they're going in drag as Greek goddesses. Romeo is Persephone, Benvolio is Athena (which makes it really ironic he doesn't know her Origin Story lol I didn't even do it on purpose since that was one of the last scenes i wrote. But since this was already a spitefic i couldn't much resist the spite at the Socially Anxious Bookworm characterization rip) Mercutio is Iris, so all in rainbow veils like a bad pride parade float. 

- I really enjoyed Romeo's dream/flashback sequence bc i just adore childhood flashbacks and... idk I hope I managed to convey what it means re: Juliet. He does love her and she's his soulmate, tho he's preoccupied with something else in that scene. But he's reacting really badly to their Circumstances and the fact their love has become dark and tormented by external circumstances when it is in it's essence innocent and easy and honestly the most functional relationship here. So his subconscious tries to put her in a context of childhood innocence, like the games he used to play with Benvolio and Mercutio, even knowing she would never be allowed to be part of that, but he also fears that he was the one to soil her innocence and that's what leads to the darker dreams like her buried in the clothes of a little girl or her mixing the poison to kill him etc. Also I really made it obvious he used to have a crush on Mercutio as a child woah. 

- I agonized about what should be written on Benvolio and Mercutio's "wedding ring" for way too long Jesus Christ. But Catullus always has an answer

- I completely forgot to elaborate on that line Benvolio has about how Romeo has seen Mercutio's bruises and would understand why he would want to leave Verona etc. That can be taken as either the fact obvious fear that someone like Mercutio who can't shut up wouldnt have a long life somewhere where people are so prickly and he's always getting into fights, or that he was abused for being such a faulty heir or both, as you wish. It isnt really Relevant but i also assumed 12 to be the age where Benvolio lost his parents, same as Patience perforce, so when they have that conversation at the beginning it's mostly him being like "bold of you to assume I need actual traumatic events for these anxiety levels"

- I definitely meant to have some level of my "Mercutio resents Valentine but also really misses him and jokes a lot about Romeo being his replacement little brother in a very weird for everyone way" but it didn't fit so well so it's like. Vaguely implied?   but it's definitely part of Romeo's insecutities

I think the hardest part was explaining how they can fake their deaths without body (how THE HELL do people write this trope with a straight face i-)

- I'm not sure how well I wrote Juliet but i feel like I'm the one person who will so there, I made my attempt out of, guess what, spite. I'm sorry what background/development I gave her was so sad, but I felt like it's a good way to justify why she finds it so easy to reationalize Tybalt's death, her detachment from her family and the weird conflict around genuine feeling/posturing that's at the core of her character. This is even less Relevant but... well, spite

- I might write a little spin off about that moment in Mercutio's dream where he and Romeo almost risked getting together, if I ever write the Montacrew OT3 Good Ending 

- Am I like... seing things or does Mercutio have a weird fascination with bugs based on like the Queen Mab speech and the metaphors he tends to use? Maybe i need to stop overanalyzing things

- Another fic, another failure to make Capulets and Montagues equally shitty parents. But at least I think I managed to show the Montagues in general are equally violent here?

- I'd apologize to the Gotham writers for the weird use of this riddle and the plagiarism of that scene, but I think they have more to apologize to me 

[writeyouin]

ITS QUANTUM ANON BACK FOR MORE....I'd love to see a scenario in which Jack and the reader have a scary movie night and the reader can barely handle it, the damn movies are incredibly scary and she gets clingy when she's scared. Jack is very amused. (sounds cliché but it's me when I watch scary movies ok) Scared cuddles and dog videos of calming ensue. (also if you could please put in a tag somewhere or a little quick post saying you got this n tumblr didn't eat it that would be appreciated

Jack Joyce X Reader – Hold Me

A/N – I will never in my life apologise for making Will a meme-loving fuck. I have a big sister, so I know exactly how to be a younger pain in the ass.

Warnings – None

Rating – T

Life as you knew it had been completely changed since the incident between the Joyce brothers and Paul Serene. Although Monarch Solutions wasn’t as big of a threat as it had been before, Jack and Will still worried about what remained of it. You knew they were also concerned about the threat it posed to Will’s research, and more importantly, to you because of your affiliation with the brothers; maybe if you and Jack weren’t romantically involved, there wouldn’t be a problem, but that wasn’t the case.

Since the brothers needed to protect what remained of Will’s research, in case Monarch got any shifty ideas again, the pair moved into the old community pool building. It wasn’t long after that that Jack asked you to move in with them. Although you would have rather continued your regular life in your previous apartment, you knew it would tear Jack apart to have to watch over Will’s research and you; to spare him any worry, you agreed to stay with the pair.

To be fair, life wasn’t so bad in the dilapidated pool building. Will and Jack respected your boundaries, and even turned one of the old changing rooms into your own personal bedroom; it didn’t go unnoticed by you how much prettier your room was than their shared one which had previously housed Beth Wilder. Every little thing the pair did for you made you love them all the more, Jack romantically, and Will as a little brother.

Despite their efforts however, it was still hard for you to think of the old building as a home instead of a hide-out. You knew you were bad at hiding your emotions, but you hoped that neither of the pair would notice quite how much you missed living a normal life. Jack of course, noticed everything where you were concerned, and that brought you to your current predicament. With Halloween coming up, Jack thought he could bring the holiday to you, since he didn’t dare take you to it; with so many costumes and chaos, it would be all too easy for Monarch to pull some kind of dirty trick he couldn’t protect you from. As such, he’d just offered you a date night, filled with all kinds of the grotesque horror films he loved so much.

He was being sweet. You knew he was, and yet you wished he would stop it and return to being his usual sardonic self; whenever he was overly sweet, you knew it was because he was worried about you and didn’t want you to catch on.

“What do you say?” Jack asked, drawing you out of your reverie.

He looked so apologetically awkward that you had to smile. How could he so suddenly switch from the slick smart-talker you knew so well to someone as insecure as Will? When Jack was being this sincere, you knew you didn’t have the heart to say no to him. Yet, you also wanted him to think you were braver than you felt, which would never happen if he saw how you were during horror films. In all the years of your friendship, you had always managed to avoid the film genre Jack loved so much, claiming horror films were far too overrated, when really you were just too scared to watch them.

Now, in the relationship you had craved for so long, Jack appeared almost bashful in offering to share this piece of himself with you.

“You know what,” Jack said at your lack of a response, “You’re probably right. Horrors are overrated anyway. We don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” You blurted, sparing Jack any hurt feelings.

His face lit up brighter than any Jack-o-lantern ever could, evidently proud at having cheered you up. “Yeah? I’ll get the movies and meet you at the projector. It’ll be just you, me, and good ol’ Charles ‘Chucky’ Monroe.”

“Great,” You grinned, then once Jack was out of earshot, “Just perfect.”

You sat rigidly on one end of the two-seater sofa while Jack set up an old film projector so it would play the movies on the entire wall the two of you faced, like a cinema would.

“So, which do you want to start with?” He asked distractedly.

“There’s just so much choice,” You answered mechanically.

“I know, isn’t it great? How about the Grudge, or maybe Saw? I bet you can find a few things in Saw that Will would probably invent himself, if he could. God knows he hates people enough to want to torture them.”

Neither choice really appealed to you, but you didn’t want to spend the next month imagining Will as a murderous sociopath, so you opted for the Grudge, whatever that was.

Not even twenty minutes into the film and you were already terrified by the evil ghost creature that haunted the screen, or in your case the wall. Every so often you would subconsciously reach out for Jack, then snap your hand back, afraid that if you let him hold you, he would feel how badly you were trembling.

You froze at the sound of heavy footsteps, though you quickly realised they were not coming from the speakers in front of you; it had to be Will, returning from the town. He came up the stairs where you and Jack were, lugging a heavy bag of shopping onto the counter behind you.

“What’s going on here?” Will asked, dropping the bag with a thud.

“Horror night,” Jack answered curtly, annoyed by Will’s sudden arrival.

“Huh, cool. The Grudge? Good choice. Not as good as Saw though,” He said a little too wistfully. “Okay, I’m in, scooch over.”

Will forced himself between you and Jack, further cramping the two-seater.

“WILL!” Jack shouted. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

“You’re right,” Will nodded, missing the point that he wasn’t invited. “(Y/N), do you mind? There’s a chair over there small enough for you.”

“HEY! No way. (Y/N) stay, he’s gonna leave now.”

“(Y/N) stay?” Will repeated disgustedly. “(S)he’s not a dog Jack, and why do I have to go anyway? You’re the one that forgot to invite me.”

“I didn’t forget. This is a date you idiot! Get out!”

“IDIOT? At least I’m not an ingrate. You could have told me beforehand.”

“READ THE ROOM!”

“YOU KNOW I CAN’T VIBE CHECK. Then again neither can you, because you didn’t even pick a romantic horror.”

Jack threw up his arms exasperatedly, “What does that even mean?”

“Films like this are all scare. In a horror like The Boy however, there is a romantic subplot. In this essay I will-”

Jack grabbed Will in a headlock, pulling him up and dragging him to the staircase. Will flailed uselessly, trying to hit Jack’s arms. Finally, Jack pushed him away, nearly tripping him down the stairs, “Out, Will!”

Will grumbled as he stomped down the stairs, “I just came out to have a good time, and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

On his way back to you, Jack shook his head disbelievingly, “Sorry (Y/N).”

“It’s alright,” You laughed, glad that the commotion allowed you to miss around ten minutes of the on-screen horror.

“Hey, this is your first time seeing the Grudge, right?”

You nodded.

“Don’t worry then, I’ll go back so you don’t miss anything.”

Dying inside a little bit, you gave Jack a quick thumbs up. As promised, Jack rewound the film, picking up where you’d left off before Will had come back. Although you longed to isolate yourself on one side of the sofa again, Jack held up his arm for you to sit under. You smiled meekly, laying against him, somewhat comforted when his arm wrapped over your side.

You thought the film had been scary before, yet with each passing minute further horrors were introduced, each worse than the last. Jack was glad you couldn’t see his face as he held back gales of laughter at your fear of the film. More often than not, he would look down to find you squeezing your eyes shut, and gripping tightly to his thigh, barely holding back whimpers.

When the film started, he had no idea you were so scared of horrors. The idea you were petrified of a ghost story and too afraid to tell him was hilarious. You had literally survived Monarch’s terror attack by his side, yet somehow the evil work of on-screen fiction was scaring you more than previous real-life encounters.

By the end of the film, you couldn’t even look at the screen anymore. You were clinging onto Jack as if your life depended on it, burying your face against his chest to avoid looking. Finally, it was over, and although you clearly couldn’t handle another film, Jack couldn’t resist poking fun at you.

“A real masterpiece,” He said, stroking your arms. “I mean, did you see the detail when the Grudge tore that woman’s jaw off? Just a quick snap and it was gone.”

You cringed, peeking up at Jack so you didn’t have to reimagine the gore in the madness of your mind.

“And what about the part with the kid in the bathtub? That is some good film making right there. Oh, but listen to me rambling on, what was your favourite part of the film?”

You desperately wanted to continue clinging onto Jack and tell him that the only watchable part of the film was the credits which were slowly rolling onwards. Instead, you mumbled agreement about the torn jaw to shut him up. You reminded yourself how excited he had been to share this with you and managed a weak smile that didn’t reflect what you felt on the inside at all.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Jack grinned, having entirely too much fun. “So, what should we watch next? I’ll even let you choose again.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” You squeaked, your throat going dry.

“You’re right, I could see your excitement there. The clear winner is the Grudge Two.”

You shivered involuntarily. Taking the opportunity to scare you further, Jack leaned forward, blowing lightly against your neck. You screamed, jumping up from the sofa and scratting at your neck frantically. Jack fell about laughing at the sight, having the time of his life.

You couldn’t help tearing up a little bit. You weren’t usually so sensitive, but the film had drained you of any usual resilience. You folded your arms, hugging yourself quietly and as suddenly as he had started, Jack stopped laughing, though he was still smiling when he enveloped you in a strong hug.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know,” You whispered in a small voice.

“Hey, did it really scare you that badly?”

You nodded shakily, reminding Jack of when he was barely a teenager and he’d just seen his first horror film; at the time, he was so scared that he spent an hour throwing up before bed.

He stroked your arms soothingly, resting his head on top of yours. “Would a night of dog videos help?”

“Can we watch Turner and Hooch?” You mumbled.

Jack kissed the top of your head, “Every Halloween from now on.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, come on, we’ll go get Turner and Hooch.”

“And Will?” You asked, risking a smile.

Jack groaned, “Will, really?”

“He really likes Turner and Hooch.”

Jack rolled his eyes and heaved a dramatic sigh, “Fine. Will can come too, but he’s sitting on the floor.”

You giggled, “Okay, sure, we’ll see how long that lasts.”

“I mean it,” he grinned mischievously, picking you up bridal style. “He has to stay on the floor, so I can hug my beautiful partner all night long.”

You pecked Jack’s lips, thankful that he was so understanding, “I love you.”

“Happy Halloween (Y/N).”

Like my work? Buy me a coffee and earn preview of the next fic, or commission me on the commissions page.

#quantum break. jack joyce #jack joyce x reader #will joyce #halloween #reader #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #hold me #Anonymous

[fool-moon830]

The Grand Legend of Alex Eywrm

My Mentor is a Omnipotent Powerful Dragon... And also a Pothead.

Eterna seoule Eterna vulvis Fatus

May my Fate be as eternal as my soul and my love

I froze, chills went down my spine, a frozen breath found its way onto the nape of my neck. I couldn't move, couldn't blink, couldn't breath. 

"H u m a n . . . T u r n    a r o u n d a n d F a c e   m e. . . "

I slowly turned around, eyes open wide in fear. A pair of eyes catch my gaze, round lapis lazulis with slits in the middle, a cloudy mist fills the air as this hidden atrocity lights a blunt, takes a puff, and  breaths mist into my face. I immediately start coughing badly, the smoke having a menthol-like effect, a frozen feeling straight down my throat. God its feels like a cough drop just got shoved down my throat. 

“N o t    u s e d t o   i t , I s u p o s e . . . ”

Still coughing from the cough drop second hand smoke, i look at this...thing with watery eyes and ask something quite stupid.

“w-what the hell are you?”

Let me explain why this was stupid. What this thing is, is a mother loving, omnipotent Grand Elder Dragon, straight outta the underworld. How do I know this? Eyes the color of unnatural ice, the stupid elongated tone of voice, the cough drop second hand smoke, which by the way is created by a cigar made from the menthollyptus plant, a bit of sliver dust, a bit of crushed Golden Shabaath, and the ashes of the Eboreal Ash, . And how do i know it's this specific combination of plants and metal dust? Because the burn in my throat and the dizziness of my eyes feels the same way as when i have to go to my pothead boss whose name I will not mention, who also is a dragon(a lesser dragon i believe). Not a stupidly powerful dragon as this one in front of me-

“W i l l   Y o u N o t   A d r e s s M e  B y M y

T i t l e ? ”

… did this dragon just read my-

“ y e s . . .   i d i d . ”

… this mother lovin dragon. His Name is Sytar, the Province of all that is Time. This is a Timelord, someone who could manipulate time at will, and is able to go back into the past and future at will. However, only those who can set in motion the future are Prophets, those who divine prophecies among Heroes. 

“H e r o e s-

“Can you just shut up with that stupid tone?”

“...and why should I, Mere mortal?”

“uhh...Because you came here to tell me something?”

“... that is true. Ahem. Allow me to propose some…Exposition.”

...what?

“What the genuine fuck are you talking about?” I ask in an actual concerned voice.

“...i'm just gonna give some exposition. Explain about heros.. Y'know, basic hero talk.”

“...why though? I already know about heroes and their grand and glorious exploits. I don’t need the exposition Sytar.”

“ its for the audience, idiot.”

“The what? What audience?” I look around for any signs of fades or missing bits of my apartment. Usually, grand dragons want to play around and recreate the rooms of their victims through illusionary magic. Also, they set up wireless connections and broadcast their mischief to major television channels. It's also one of Mia’s favorite shows, called The Fool’s Cage with NICK JOOOONES! Or something like that. I don’t watch much television. Just the forecast. Hopefully this isn’t that show.

“I’m not doing that Alex. Im too sophisicated for that dumb soap oprea. Also, who’s Mia?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Chill dude. I'm not gonna hurt her-”

“Just shut up.” I rub my head and sit down. This is just stupid. Why is this dragon in my room, why can’t I just sleep, and why is there still some delicious musty tea on my mug. Although it's cold now, so its just now mediocre musty tea. Taking a sip of my mediocre musty tea, I ponder the reasons of this dragon being in my already cramped room.

“If you would stop explaining stuff, i would tell you why.”

“Can you shut up?”

“Can you explain why you're being so rude mortal?” This thirteen foot monster with a sixteen foot tail, scales as pale as moonstones, with just a tinge of blue, and nails...or should I say claws, as black as coal, all wrapped up in a bathrobe lined with alpaca fur, and flip flops with small bunny ears...Mia would like these… and a long, girthy, absolutely unnecessary cigar, lit with a teal flame. Wow.. You must really have some worn out lungs huh Sytar?

“ as a matter of fact, my lungs are perfectly fine, thank you very much.” Just as the omnipotent dragon starts coughing like a 40 year old smoker. Don’t Smoke kiddos. 

“...anyway, as I was saying… Heroes are given a Prophecy by a Prophet to fulfill, as it is their purpose as a sworn and pledged Hero, and by receiving this blessing, they are given eternal life. That is, they stop aging at a certain age, and can choose how old they look...occasionally. Most heroes either look 20 or 30 years old. It is uncertain. However, a Hero can be slain, and its soul shall remain here. Until it has completed its prophecy, or has it’s soul devoured by a Devil, Or it is destroyed by some other manner, a Hero cannot rest. A Hero can only wait for its opportunity to arrive, or live out its days in misery...such is the tragedy of a hero..” The dragon wipes a petty tear of his cheeks with such unnecessary flair. I wasn’t paying attention though. While this high-of-his-rockers dragon blabbered on about what i already knew about Heros(they teach you this in middle school history, along with the history of this nation’s government, The Federal Foundation of Terrana) I texted Mia. I asked whether or not she wanted hotdogs or ramen hotpot with some delicious musty tea. She wanted the hotdogs and some actual tea. But I reminded her that delicious musty tea was actual tea. Then she sent me a gif with a Gonodorf wizard rolling its eyes and some text on top saying ‘when your roommate is a dad-joke loving dork but you be wanting some actual food’. Kids these days with their memes and what not. Though...Mia isn’t actually a child, she’s old enough to drive around the pier and order her favorite milk tea with boba. Although, she still wakes up early to watch her morning ‘anime’ instead of doing her online college work, and still asks for some SourPatch Dwarves, and still cuddles up to me when she has nightmares...Anyway, she then tells me that she’s bringing one of her friends back home, and she’ll come home in about 20 minutes. Shit! I face the high-as-a-skyscraper dragon and tell him to…

“Leave. Now.”

The dragon, whom took another puff of his cigar, which was now half the length before he arrived, responded in a rather concerning manner…

“Can I at least say that your a hero and explain that…” he takes a moment to recollect his thoughts… “to the audience?”

“N-no!” I manage to say before I start coughing again, accidentally breathing in the cough drop second hand smoke.

“Dude ...it's not that bad….” He really was lost now, gone beyond all hope.

“Look, Wannabe Sytar, Two people live in this household and one of them is not used to the smell of smoke at all, and you won’t shut up about all this hero nonsense, and look-” and another coughing fit ensued from all the cough drop second hand smoke. “J-just go. Come back when your not a bloody stoner” for fucks sakes...Alex rushes around the apartment, opening every window they had. The dragon chuckled and recited a familiar phrase. 

“There are Three curses a hero must avoid, lest they shall lose their lives. A Hero must always beware of a Dragon’s Wrath, A Madman’s Oath, and a False God’s Promise. You do know this, don’t you Alex?”

“Y-yes i know” said Alex with a sore throat. The second hand smoke was getting to him pretty badly. “Why bother telling me this?” the dragon sighed and went for another puff of his blunt, decided against it, and place it away in a pocket dimension. 

“Alex...i am a tempermental dragon, cursed with Devil’s Scawl. I cannot prevent a berserk state this late into my life. The scawl is as painful as a parasitic cancer can be. Therefore, I use medicinal herbs to ease my pain away. It just so happens to be in the form of a cigar. I know of the conditions in this household, and I’ll try not to overstay this welcome.” 

The air froze, particles of dust and smoke slowed to a stop, creating an interstellar, ethereal effect. It suddenly got a lot...colder...what the… 

“Alex. there is something I must tell you. We do not have much time…”

“... i'm listening.” I grab the chair to my desk and sit down, wondering at what will the dragon say.

“Alex Ewyrm, You are a Hero who has not taken the Pledge. You will be entangled in the strings of Fate, You will be enwrapped in a story much, Much more grand than you could ever imagine. You will lose, You will gain, and your actions as a Hero shall decide the Destiny of the whole Universe. Alex Ewyrm, Son of Eris and Terrice Ewyrm, and grandchild to a knight of the 13th Order to Maxwell’s Commandment Squadron, Warus Garne Ewyrm, Known as the Hero who drew the cursed blade-

“Exodus. . .”Alex sat there in shock… So this dragon was legitimate. No other dragon could have found out either his parent’s name, or the commandment in which his grandfather served. There was also the fact that Sytar knew about his inheritance, what was passed down, generation to generation.

“Yes. Exodus… the cursed sword Exodus. You see now, that i am Sytar, Providence to all that is Time. I came here to warn you. I shall lead your way, be your guidance, and provided mentorship when you need it most. That is my Pledge I will take as Sytar, Providence to all that is Time!”

...wait. Wait wait wait hold the hot pipe up! Is he suggesting..?!

“..are you saying… you want to be my mentor..?”

“Yes! That is what I pledge and that is what I shall do with pride and dignity!”

I groan and put my weary head on my hands. Why...do i have to be with this pothead…

“H-hey, i'm a nice guy, there’s no need-”

“JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP WILL YA?”

...then there’s silence...the smoke has long left the room. The dust has settled… on the entrance, a small but audible knock can be heard. Then, a voice.

“uhh...Alex...Are you Ok?”

[mosaiccreme]

OTP Meme

@squigglysquidd

Ares/Charles

1. Who is the most affectionate?

Charles is probably the ‘most’ affectionate, but Ares does surprise every now and again by initiating affection himself. Usually things like bumping his forehead against Charles’, or combing his fingers through Charles’ hair. Charles is far more hands-on. If Ares is within touching distance, Charles is probably touching him or holding on to the corner of his jacket.

2. Big spoon/Little spoon? 

Ares for sure. Even if their size difference wasn’t an issue, Charles knows that Ares wouldn’t appreciate feeling the slightest bit ‘pinned down’ while sleeping. Even when Charles starts the night out with his head laying on Ares’ keel, he usually rolls off the turian before sleep takes him.

3. Most common argument?

Miscommunication really is an issue between the two of them, but I’d say their most common argument up until very recently was over Ares’ refusal to take Charles out on jobs with him.

4. Favorite non-sexual activity?

Besides for killing people (but, let’s face it, killing people really sorta is a sexual activity for these two)? I’d say trying out new places to eat on the Citadel and hanging out with Cammus. Charles does enjoy it when he can get Ares to sit still and watch a vid or two, but that’s not super often.

 5. Who is most likely to carry the other? 

Charles isn’t strong enough to carry Ares, though he did take a lot of the turian’s weight onto himself to help them get out of a burning building. But then Ares picked Charles up and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, so ….

6. What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

He has to pick? Even though Ares hates it, Charles loves Ares’s scars. He especially loves the scars created when Ares had Charles carve his name into Ares’ arm. Otherwise his favorite features of Ares’, physically speaking, are his voice, his teeth, his talons, and his cock XD Charles really loves the little things about Ares that Ares either denies, tries to hide, or balks at if mentioned, such as his generosity and protective nature. It means the world to him that Ares’ not only wanted to seek revenge on Charles’ behalf, but he also involved Charles in the matter.

I’d definitely agree that Charles’ scent is Ares’ favorite feature, but I also think he likes seeing his bite mark scars on Charles, and I think he likes the way Charles’ hair feels.

 7. What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Charles felt a connection with Ares the first night they met, otherwise he never would’ve invited the assassin to spend the night. The scars, an outward sign of the pain Ares’ endured, somehow soothed the ache of his own, hidden scars. I’d say that he started realizing he had feelings for Ares after maybe the third time or so Ares showed up in his apartment. It was undeniable when Ares verbally made a connection between them as being something more than what he’s had with other people. It was well and truly cemented for him, though, when Ares told him that they were going to kill the people who’d hurt him so badly in his past.

I’d say the first thing that changed for Charles is he started to fuss over Ares a little more. Such as buying him more comfortable clothes, trying to get him to eat better food, trying to find ways to make his apartment more comfortable for Ares. The second, or perhaps concurrently, thing that changed is he started taking risks of showing physical affection without the intent of seduction.

Ares still hasn’t really admitted to having feelings for Charles other than telling Charles that he trusts him, which admittedly is huge for Ares. That being said, I’d say physical affection became something Ares was more willing to accept and to give. Ares started trying to take care of Charles in his own way, too, like buying Charles groceries when he was low on cash and shooting Charles’ vidscreen just so he could buy him an upgraded one (Squid will never be able to convince me it wasn’t intentional). And, last but not least, Ares started opening up to Charles more about his past and his family.

8. Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate? 

In addition to Ares calling Charles ‘idiot’, they are known to refer to one another as ‘mine’. The ‘mine’ originated with Charles stumbling over how to express the budding relationship between himself and Ares to an overly concerned citizen who wouldn’t leave Charles alone. The man saw Ares’ bite marks on Charles and became convinced Charles was being abused by Ares. Charles told the man that Ares’ “is mine” and told the guy to fuck off. Ares, who’d overheard some of it, stepped in and told the man to get away from “my human”. It evolved into something so much more, though.

 9. Who worries the most? 

Probably Charles, but Ares is the most paranoid.

 10. Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant? 

Both. Not only are they both pretty predictable when it comes to food and drinks, but Charles is hyper-vigilant about ways he can take care of Ares and prove his love to Ares whereas Ares is well trained to be observant and to remember things. And … he probably wouldn’t say so, but I think he likes knowing what Charles likes, too.

11. Who tops? 

99% of the time it’s Ares. Charles is fairly flexible when it comes to top/bottom dynamics, and Ares is rather dominant, so Charles goes with whatever Ares wants. It also makes him feel … safe. Taken care of. Claimed.

12. Who initiates kisses? 

Their first kiss was initiated by Ares, and it surprised the hell out of Charles. After that initial kiss, I’d say it depends on the purpose of the kiss. Ares is likely to initiate kissing if he’s using it to lead to sex, whereas Charles is likely to initiate kissing as a sign of affection (or to lead to sex).

 13. Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Charles, no question.

14. Who kisses the hardest? 

They both get rough when aroused, but it’s usually Ares who gets rough to start.

15. Who wakes up first?

Ares, the turian barely sleeps.

16. Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer? 

Charles, especially if by some stroke of luck Ares is still in the bed with him.

17. Who says I love you first?

Charles has said it, Ares still hasn’t.

18. Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?) 

Although I think Charles would be more likely to be the one to leave notes in Ares’ lunch (probably something sappy like ‘I love you. Have a good day’), neither of them exactly take lunch to work. I can see them both leaving notes of one sort or another around the apartment for the other, though. Charles’ would probably consist of something like, ‘Hey, I went to see Cammus. I’ll be back by dinner. Come find us if you get bored. Love you.’ Ares’ would probably be something along the lines of, ‘Get some more horosk after work.’ Or, ‘I got a job, heading out.’ Or, ‘The stupid dog chewed on the coffee table leg.’

19. Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

Technically, Charles told his father about Ares as they were killing him. Otherwise, Charles has told his friends about Ares to a lesser degree. Ares indirectly told Jasmine about Charles, but it wasn’t planned on his part. Charles has no other family, and Ares is estranged from his family.

20. What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

Cammus likes Ares. He sees how happy Ares makes Charles, and how miserable Charles is when Ares is away. He considers Ares to be a friend as well. The others haven’t really been around him much. Jasmine thinks is good Ares has someone, and she thinks Charles seems alright all in all so far.

21. Who is more likely to start dancing with the other? 

The only way I see either of them dancing is if they’re both shitfaced drunk, in their apartment, and Charles harasses Ares until he gives in.

22. Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?

Neither of them cook often, but Charles probably does cook more. As for who is better … *shrugs*

23. Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Lol, ah, actually they both 100% do. Ares had some of the cheesiest lines when they first started talking over the extranet and when he first showed up in Charles’ apartment. He’s also known to use cheesy and/or lewd lines to flirt with others. Charles is more likely to do the sappy kind of cheesy pick up lines.

24. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Mostly Ares, no doubt, but Charles isn’t above such behaviors either!

25. Who needs more assurance?

Although I think Ares does need assurances, too, I think Charles needs more of it. He’s clingy, obsessive, and emotionally damaged. He lives in constant fear of Ares leaving him and never coming back.

26. What would be their theme song? 

I like Squid’s answer of ‘Closer’ by NIN. I’d like to add to this, though, and suggest ‘Bodies’ by Drowning Pool.

27. Who would sing to their child back to sleep? 

Uhhhh … no. I mean, if we want to be purely hypothetical, I can actually see Ares as being more likely to take on this task as he’d be more likely to hear the kid wake up in the middle of the night as well as less likely to be sleeping anyway. It’d be something he would only do when Charles wasn’t around and couldn’t hear him, though. Charles would if he thought to do it and was desperately trying to get the kid to shut up so he could sleep himself. Babies aren’t in their future, however.

28. What do they do when they’re away from each other? 

Ares does Ares like things which remain mysterious and concerning to Charles in his absence. Charles tries not to go crazy without Ares, focuses a lot of his energy on training, work, and Cammus. They both kill people when they’re away from each other …. Sometimes when they’re together, too.

 29. one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart

They’re all technically headcanon for these two, but one that isn’t too spoiler filled would be is Ares’ inability to believe that Charles really, truly find him attractive and loves him.

30. one headcanon about this OTP that mends it 

Charles would do pretty much anything and everything for Ares, and Ares would rip apart anyone and anything that threatened Charles or stood between the two of them.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Two’s Company, Three’s Allowed, a TRR fanfic

@speedyoperarascalparty@brightpinkpeppercorn@sleepwalkingelite@zaffrenotes@ao719@choicesfanatic86@darley1101@flowerpowell@gardeningourmet@kinkykingliam@livingthroughchoices@likethetailofacomet @andy-loves-corgis@silviasutton1989 @blackcatkita @flowerpowell @endlessly-searching-for-you

Back on track with the main story...

An Unusual Wedding 1

‘Well that didn’t go too badly.’ said Lucy with a sigh of relief as the reporter’s car drove off. Drake ran his finger around his collar, simulating choking, and undid the top button.

‘The sooner I’m out of this suit the better.’ he grumbled. Brad clapped him on the back. The three of them went back into the house, to relax in the drawing room.

‘Well done Drake, your foot went nowhere near your mouth.’ he grinned ‘We’ll make you a proper Duke yet.’

‘When hell freezes over.’ he retorted.

‘Come on now, don’t paint all the nobles with the same brush.’ said Lucy ‘Remember Penelope’s parents – and Kiara’s aren’t all bad either. And Maxwell…’

‘Maxwell is… Maxwell. I’d challenge anyone to label him.’ said Brad.

‘Oh I can think of a few labels for him.’ said Drake. ‘not all of them complimentary. Plus I daren’t go near him in case he’s planning on writing another book. Who knows what he’s making of our arrangement. Maxwell writing a bonkbuster is not a flattering thought.’

‘Bonkbuster?’ asked Liam. The King wasn’t always up to date on current memes and colloquialisms.

‘Kiss and tell.’ explained Drake, and Brad looked blank for a moment, then his face cleared.

‘Oh I see. No that would not be a good thing.’ he said with alarm. ‘What goes on behind closed doors – well it would be speculation anyway as he’s not involved, but still…’he shuddered at the thought.

‘So what’s next?’ asked Lucy. ‘It seems like we have time to kill as I’m not out of the woods yet. I’m still under doctor’s orders.’

‘We do have a wedding ceremony to arrange.’ replied Brad. ‘Drake, I know you don’t like showy elaborate occasions, and we told the Press that it would be a private ceremony – so what’s your preference?’ Drake looked thoughtful.

‘My ideal would be just the three of us.’ he mused. ‘but Savannah would kick my backside into the middle of next week if I got married without her there.’

‘Hana would be hurt too, and Maxwell.’ said Lucy ‘Plus we have to have a photographer.’

‘Please let it be simple.’ pleaded Drake. ‘before you know it we’ll have a couple of hundred guests and have to hold it in the cathedral.’

‘Okay so let’s be realistic, absolute minimum guest list?’

‘Savannah and Bertie, Maxwell, Bertrand and Hana.’

‘How about the Queen Mother? asked Lucy.

‘I’ll invite her but I’m not sure if she will come. I think Drake is right, absolute minimum is just that. How about location?’

‘Somewhere remote and private.’ said Drake, and Lucy nodded.

‘How about the cabin up in the hills here?’ This time Lucy made a face.

‘I’m not ready to go up those mountain tracks again.  Not just yet.’ 

‘How about that place we went camping?’ asked Brad ‘It’s remote and overlooks the sea and we all have happy memories of being together there.’

‘That actually sounds like an excellent idea.’ agreed Drake, and Lucy nodded.

‘So apart from our guest list, there will have to be security, a photographer, and a celebrant.’ said Brad

‘How about Ana de Luca for the Press?’ suggested Lucy. ‘We’re on friendly terms after all we’ve been through, I’m sure she’d be happy to cover it.’

‘Bastien to arrange a security detail then, so that just leaves a celebrant. Leo would possibly be available.’ Brad said, walking up and down in front of the window, hands clasped behind his back. Lucy sat on an overstuffed sofa next to Drake, holding his hand.

‘I could wear my wedding dress a second time, but what about afterwards? Should we have some sort of reception?’

‘How about a barbecue or picnic?’ grinned Drake ‘Keep it really simple, we won’t need catering staff, and the guests can camp out too.’ Lucy giggled.

‘That sounds like a lot of fun – what do you think, Brad?’

‘I’m happy with whatever you two want to do – after all I’m sort of a third wheel in all this.’ Lucy’s face fell, and she got up and stood in front of him, holding his hands in hers and gazing into his eyes.

‘We’re all equals in this partnership Brad.’ she said softly.

‘Thankyou Lucy my dearest, but I had my day in the cathedral, and Drake was in the background. It’s only fair that the focus is more on him this time, even if there are less than twelve guests rather than the whole country watching.’ Lucy put her hands on his shoulders and pulled herself up to kiss him on the lips.

‘You’re so selfless. I love you so much’ she smiled, hugging him close. Drake smiled fondly, not minding the moment of intimacy, knowing that he was securely held in Lucy’s affection.

‘Ok, so all we have left is a date.’ said Brad. ‘anything else is just window dressing.’

‘Can we do it in a week? asked Drake. ‘The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned, though if it was just us three I’d do it tomorrow.’

‘Right.’ said Brad ‘Lets split the task. Lucy, you should open up a group chat with Hana and Maxwell, and Drake, you can talk to Savannah. I will contact Ana and Leo. We can share progress at dinner time.’

 --------

Alone in his room, Drake stared at his phone. He had just finished talking to Savannah and the entry taking up all his attention now was marked ‘Mom. His stomach knotted, his heart beat a steady elevated rhythm, and his palms felt clammy. It would be early morning where she was. He had not spoken to her for months, not even to tell her he’d found Savannah. He knew his mother and sister had been in contact since then, and she knew about little Bartie. Savannah had said she’d wanted to come over and meet her new grandson but was waiting for her daughter’s wedding to Bertrand. Apparently when his name had been mentioned, his mother had said ‘When Drake wants to talk to me, he can.’

And he did want to, more than anything.

But what can you say when you’ve not talked for months, not spoken about such a vital thing as rediscovering your sister after she went missing for over a year? Unless Savannah had told her, she knew nothing of Lucy, nothing of his internal battle over falling for his best friend’s – his King’s – prospective wife, nothing of his descent into near alcoholism. What would she think of the odd relationship he was about to commit himself to? Never mind that his mother had chosen to leave them after his father died…

He screwed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his forehead. The afterimage of the screen remained on his retina. He tried to think it through – what if he told her nothing? She would find out through Savannah or even worse, through the media. He realised that she might wake to the press banging on her door, hounding her, despite being out in the wilds of Texas on the family ranch. She might already have heard…

He had to ring now. Before he could talk himself out of it, he stabbed at the screen.

He heard the tone of the phone ringing and waited, his stomach doing somersaults. It felt like an eternity before it stopped. There was a pause before she spoke.

‘Drake?’ tears pricked his eyes at the sound of her voice, not sleepy as he expected, but alert – and guarded.

‘Mom.’ His voice was unsteady. There was another pause.

‘Speak to me, son.’

‘Mom, I’m – I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. So much has happened.’

‘So I hear. Your sister has kept me updated – though maybe you have more to tell me than she’s said. I told her, if you want to tell me anything about – about yourself – that it has to come from you, not from her.’

‘Mom, maybe if you were closer, if you weren’t so far away.’ he began, then bit his tongue.

‘I’m sorry, son.’ there was genuine regret in her voice. ‘I’m sorry I’m not there with you. But I couldn’t stay. Everything about Cordonia reminded me of your father, and I hated the place because it had destroyed him. I wanted to take you and Savannah with me – but Brad assured me you would have a home in Cordonia, and it wasn’t fair to take you away from everything you knew. I wanted you to finish your education, not uproot yourself and end up somewhere you felt out of place…’

‘But I was out of place anyway,’ he wanted to say, ‘All those stuck up nobles looking down their noses at me. I wanted to be with you, but you shut me off,’ Instead he had stayed to look after Savannah, who loved being at court. Look how well that had turned out in the short term, he thought. But instead he swallowed his pride, realising that there was another long silence developing. He had to put it all behind him, try to forgive, even if it was impossible to forget.

‘I fell in love.  I fell in love with – with my best friend’s girl.’

‘Oh son.’ there was regret in her voice.

‘But – but she loves me too… and I’m so happy.’

‘Son?’ her voice was choked up, but no more words came, and he had to fight his way past the ache in his own throat.

‘Mom, we’re getting married.’ he blurted out. Silence… he could hear her sniffling.

‘Drake… what about…’

‘It’s all ok, it’s all fine. We’re going to be together, the three of us.’ it all came out in a rush. ‘You – it’s strange, it’s ok here, you can – can do that sort of thing now. Brad’s made it legal.’

‘I know, son. Constantine was married to Brad and Leo’s mothers when we first moved there.’

‘You knew?’

‘Your father, rest his soul, told me and it wasn’t a secret then.’

‘So – it’s Brad and Lucy - and me. Did Savvy tell you about Lucy?’

‘I could hardly not know about her. I follow the foreign news.  She sounds like a remarkable woman.’ There was a note of curiosity in her voice now.

‘I had to tell you. We’re getting married very soon. Within the week.’

‘I’m happy for you.’

‘Do you want to – can you come?’

‘Oh Drake – Drake, of course I want to.’ They were both crying now, but it was happy tears. ‘I’ll book the flight straight away.’

‘I can pay for it. You can stay at Lucy’s place - well, it’s mine too. I’m a Duke – would you believe it?’

‘Drake Walker, you have a lot to answer for, and we have a lot of catching up to do.’

‘I love you Mom.’

‘I love you too, son.’

‘See you soon. Tell me when you’re arriving.’

‘Till then, son.’

After she hung up, he continued to stare at the phone for a while. Then he stood up and gave a whoop, punching the air. He ran into the corridor and burst into Brad’s room. Brad looked up from his phone, startled.

‘Mom’s coming - she’s coming to the wedding!’ he cried in triumph, and Brad’s face broke into a broad smile as he put his phone down. He crossed the room and threw his arms around Drake, patting him strongly on the back before stepping back again.

‘That’s great news Drake. It will be good to see her again. Congratulations.’

‘I’ve got to tell Lucy. We’ve got to get a room ready for her. I have to call Savannah too.’ and Drake ran out into the corridor again.

#trr #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #drake walker #drake x mc #drake x liam #liam x drake fanfiction #drake x liam fanfiction #liam x mc #king liam #liam x riley #fanfiction #fanfic

[makeste]

Top 10 Fictional Spouses

*a wild meme appears!*

Stolen from @rikudera. Tagging anyone else who wants to do it because why not! Also I did it as a countdown and also rambled a bit NOPE, a LOT about why I love them and want to marry them because I can’t shut up, but this is not a requirement or anything.

10. Jon Snow (Game of Thrones)

It took 8 fucking seasons for this little shit to get his act together, but yes, I finally do want to fucking marry him and his perfect undead ass. If only he wasn’t currently boning his aunt. Haha GoT am I right.

9. Diana Prince (Wonder Woman)

I have trouble putting into words what I love so much about Diana (and the WW film in general). Like, I feel like it would have been so easy to screw her up, but they didn’t. It would have been so easy to fuck up that balance between her being a loving, caring, kindhearted person and a badass person who gets shit done. But they got it right. They could have leaned in way too much on the romance between her and Steve, and made the movie way too chick-flicky, but that, too, they managed to get just right. She just has this energy that I can’t describe. She’s not a masculine hero that happens to be a woman; she is a very feminine hero but she is just as strong because why wouldn’t she be? But it’s different from everything we’ve had before IMO and I want more of it so bad. And yeah I’d marry her in a heartbeat.

8. Gamora (Guardians of the Galaxy / MCU)

I. Love. Everything about her. Especially from Guardians Vol. 2 and onward, when she seems to have relaxed a little bit now that she’s found her place with the rest of the Guardians. I love how she’s so serious and mature and eye-rolling-at-everything all the time, but she also feels Thor’s biceps, and lip syncs along to “Rubberband Man”, and totally lets her guard down around Peter because she trusts him so much. THANOS DID HER SO FUCKING DIRTY OMG but I know she’s still hanging around in that Soul Stone so it’s only a matter of time before they figure out how to bring her back and I can’t fucking wait.

7. TYL!Ryohei (KHR)

TYL!Ryohei is a fucking gift to the world. We don’t deserve him. Somehow over the course of those ten years, he matured in ways I wouldn’t have believed were possible. Like, he’s still passionate and fired up and shit, but he’s also so much more level-headed and sensible now, and he’s a mentor and he’s in a (presumably) happy, healthy, and stable relationship, and just, damn. Like I would put him in a list of top ten anime guys who probably have great credit. I feel safe with TYL!Ryohei, and his great TYL!hair.

6. T’Challa (Black Panther / MCU)

There are a lot of male fictional characters that I love, but very few I’d want to marry. T’Challa is one of them because IMO he’s one of the only male characters in media right now that doesn’t adhere to all the same-old-same-old super masculine hero tropes all the time. How do I explain this without using the fucking phrase “big dick energy” ugh... Like, he doesn’t have to be in control of everything all the fucking time. He’s strong and stubborn when he needs to be, but not overbearing. He doesn’t think he’s the only be-all-end-all authority on morality (even though he actually does have a pretty good grip on it). He acknowledges when he’s fucked something up, and he tries to learn from it. He’s surrounded by strong women and he respects the shit out of them and gets showed up by them on occasion and doesn’t bat an eye because why would he? And I wish more characters were like this, but right now I can only think of three including him. There are probably more, though, and hopefully we’ll continue to see more.

5. Okoye (Black Panther / MCU)

Do I even need to explain this? Are there people out there who don’t want to marry Okoye? Nah I don’t believe you. The way she side-eyes T’Challa when he’s all “I never freeze” and then saves his ass and makes fun of it later but she also still loves and respects the shit out of him. The way she loves her husband(...? or boyfriend? wait I’m not sure) without making a big thing out of it, but then also during the film’s climax, when he tries to make it like “me or Wakanda though??”, she’s like “OF COURSE IT WOULD BE WAKANDA WHAT DO YOU FUCKING THINK” because she is the loyalest bitch. And how she tries to fall in line with Killmonger because it’s her duty, but also she helps Ramonda and Nakia and pals escape, and then later when T’Challa is back and all “I WAS ONLY MOSTLY DEAD,” she immediately jumps back aboard that train and she’s so happy. She’s so loyal and so dedicated to her duty but also has the best sense of humor and even when all the lines are blurred she doesn’t waver and she does what she thinks is right.

4. Jake Peralta (Brooklyn 99)

Hey so yeah Jake is one of the other two aforementioned Woke Male Characters Who’ve Gotten Over Their Egos and Are Better For It that I mentioned in the T’Challa part above. (The third is Steve Trevor. Like I said, there are probably more... at least I hope?? But I don’t watch enough new shit these days to really know.) I love everything about Jake. How he tries so hard at everything, how he goes out of his way to be such a good friend to everyone, how he’s somehow an idiot and yet also perfectly intelligent and good with computers and the fucking best at solving crimes. I love his sense of humor. I’m so weak for guys with a good sense of humor it’s not even funny. 500% bonus if they specialize in self-deprecating humor. Basically just marry me already Jake.

3. Sanji (One Piece)

SANJI. I could rant for days. I love him so much it’s almost intimidating to have to boil it down into one inadequate little paragraph. Just. He has THE WORST PAST EVER with a childhood so abusive and miserable I can’t even find the words for it, and yet in spite of all that he grew up to be so incredibly kind and loving and always wanting to make sure everyone’s needs are met. Not to mention he’s a complete badass? And also smart as hell (and Oda really needs to give us some more of that because I’ve been missing his saves-the-day-behind-the-scenes antics. I was hoping we might get some in WCI but we didn’t, and that’s okay but WANO IS COMING NOW SO LET’S DO THIS PLEASE). The only reason he’s not #1 on the list is because of the love cook nonsense, because it’s Japan and they have some issues. But if I’m honest, I’m totally willing to overlook it because aside from that quirk he is fucking perfect.

2. Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn 99)

My favorite thing about Rosa is that she’s super private and reserved, without actually being shy or antisocial. I feel like this is pretty rare in fiction. She doesn’t freak out or get anxious whenever she has to speak in public or meet new people or anything, but she also values her privacy and her personal space very highly and goes to great lengths to maintain it. She cares about her friends deeply, but she also isn’t afraid to tell them when they need to back the fuck off. And I can relate so much to that.

And oh yes, my other favorite thing about Rosa is that she is canon fucking bisexual, with a coming-out episode and everything, and I never knew how badly I needed to see that until it happened and I was like almost in tears? So yes. Rosa Diaz. She’s so cool and I want to be her wife.

1. TYL!Yamamoto Takeshi (KHR)

AS IF THERE COULD BE ANYONE ELSE HERE AT THE TOP. Yamamoto Takeshi. God’s Perfect Idiot. The pinnacle of human evolution. Confident without being arrogant. Loyal till the end of the fucking world. Sense of humor that’s fucking unrivaled. Flawless, strongest, and invincible. Literally the best laugh in the history of human existence. Seriously, that’s a fact. Oh, and also, the most handsome man who ever lived, probably. We’ll never know for certain unless you could time travel or something, but I feel like it’s pretty safe to assume. You can probably put money on that. But if you said it to his face, he would probably just laugh and say, “Ha ha, you think so?” with his hand behind his head all boyishly, because he’s so fucking modest on top of everything else, and excuse me but I have to go cry now because he doesn’t actually fucking exist, fuck my life.

Anyway, so this was fun but now I remembered why I stopped doing memes, because I don’t have a fucking off switch jesus christ. BUT THEY’RE SO FUN, THOUGH. Agh. Dammit.

#meme #oh boy how many fandoms are in this one post here we go #khr #yamamoto takeshi #brooklyn nine nine #jake peralta #rosa diaz #one piece #one piece spoilers #sanji #marvel #mcu #mcu spoilers #infinity war spoilers #guardians of the galaxy #gamora #black panther #t'challa #okoye #wonder woman #diana prince #game of thrones #game of thrones spoilers #jon snow #who did I forget #OH #sasagawa ryohei #ok I love you all goodnight

[catalists]

SO this is technically a nearly 700 word excerpt (instead of 500 or less, sorrynotsorry) and there's no way in hell it's fitting in this askbox, but : DVD-style commentary of the part in 'go forward slowly' that starts with "When he opens the door, Viktor stands there in the hallway" to "'...when I told him that you did not know.'" Please I will give you my firstborn.

[This is for this ask meme. If you want DVD-style commentary on a section of one of my fics, send me a section!]

YOU’RE RIGHT THIS IS A LOT OF WORDS ALLISON

luckily I love you

I’m going to take this in a couple sections, I think, so to start with:

from go forward slowly:

When he opens the door, Viktor stands there in the hallway. He wears a t-shirt and dark jeans, well-fitted. He thinks Viktor must have once dressed like Yura, in the casual teenage blur of horrible trends, but he can’t conjure an image. He is not sure when Viktor learned to clothe himself with such composure. It is certainly not Yakov who taught him.

Viktor has been putting pins in his hair at the rink, Yakov realizes, because he has taken them out now and the strands hang loose around his face. His bangs fall in his eyes; the longest ends curve around his chin. Yakov has never seen his hair like this, an in-between length. Viktor’s hair was already to his elbows when Yakov first met him, and when he’d cut it he’d chopped it all off at once and never looked back.

Like this, Yakov thinks with a start, he looks a bit like Yura. There is nothing of Yura in the serene unreadability of his expression, though. Whatever had cracked open and spilled out earlier is gone now, back underneath the surface.

There are moments where Yakov thinks he might see a flash of it, a dark shape under the water, and then he blinks and it vanishes.

“We should talk,” Viktor says steadily, not breaking eye contact.

“Yes,” Yakov says, and swings open the door to let him in.

I think I’m going to start with Viktor here, because in some ways his emotions are a lot more straightforward than Yakov’s: this is a lot of bravery. Viktor tends to prevaricate, to smile and pretend everything’s fine. We see that when he’s upset, when he’s angry, when he’s both, and actually showing his emotions at the rink just before this was a lapse in composure. So it’s very much a show of courage for him to come here and face this rather than pretending it never happened.

A lot of what Yakov’s seeing in Viktor, in the doorway here, is looking for that lapse in composure. He’s known Viktor for a long time, and believes that he sees through Viktor’s armor better than most, so to have realized something he’s been missing for years is making him reevaluate. He’s thinking about how Viktor dresses, about when he started doing that, about when Yakov stopped being able to see through his mask.

And then there is the one thing that has legitimately changed recently: Viktor’s been letting his hair grow out again, and something feels transitional about it. But what Yakov’s learning here is that what is changing about Viktor is not the damage he’s suffered, it’s his willingness to let people know and trust that they will love him anyway. Which brings us into the next section:

It is not the same apartment where Yakov once half-raised Viktor. Both he and Lilia had moved after the divorce, and this uneasy arrangement back together is only an odd echo of what was once their home. Viktor, Yakov realizes with a start, has no childhood homes to return to—his own parents never married, his mother and stepmother divorced and moved away, and then Yakov and Lilia had done no better.

Yakov has been inside Viktor’s apartment before. It was tasteful and clean and oddly empty. Perhaps it now looks different. At the very least, it is now home to two people instead of one. Yakov lived in an apartment on his own after he retired and it was an ugly thing, a bachelor’s apartment, haphazard and full of the useless trappings of his former life. Then he had married Lilia and they had begun to fill it with things and it had felt like a home, somehow. He never pinned down exactly what had made it change.

Before Yakov can think of a way to begin the conversation, Viktor does it, almost as soon as the door is shut behind him. “I don’t know why Yura wanted so badly to tell you,” Viktor says, crossing his arms. He stands there in the entry for a moment in that position and then begins to pace. “It was truly a long time ago.”

Yakov watches him. “Sit down.”

Viktor stops in his tracks, as though he’s only just realized that he’s pacing back and forth. He sits on the couch and Yakov sits as well, a careful distance apart. Viktor is fidgety, his hands going up to play with his hair. He used to chew on the ends, Yakov remembers in a flash. Lilia had once offhandedly threatened to cut it if he didn’t stop that right now, and Viktor had physically frozen for a moment as he tried to judge whether she meant it. Then he’d laughed and waved it off.

But Yakov can’t quite remember if he ever caught him chewing his hair again.

This whole section is in some way about having a place to go back to, and people to fall back on. For a long time, Viktor hasn’t. Unlike Yuuri, Viktor has no way to return home, and part of standing in this apartment means, for Viktor, looking at the way Yakov and Lilia’s relationship fell apart, looking at all the places and relationships he should have trusted but simply no longer exist.

Yakov is thinking about this more than Viktor in this moment–Viktor is very preoccupied with what to say and how to say it and whether it’s possible to downplay this (it was a long time ago) and it’s Yakov who is seeing this in stereo. Yakov is starting to realize that Viktor has spent a long time loving people and still not trusting that they won’t hurt him.

But Viktor has decided to come here and have this conversation, and Yakov is hoping that maybe this means that maybe Viktor has built a home for himself in spite of everything.

“It was a long time ago,” Viktor repeats, but something about the way he says it makes it seem like it wasn’t really, in the same sense that the couch is still new, will still be new half a decade on. Some things never become familiar. “That was a lie, though. I do know why Yura wanted to tell you. He was—he trusts you.”

“Does he,” Yakov says.

“Yes,” Viktor says. “I think he and I—well, we are alike in some ways, so maybe we understand each other a little. But he thinks you will do what is best for him. So I think it felt counterfactual to that, when I told him that you did not know.”

Yakov thinks quite a bit in this story about how Viktor and Yura are alike and different, and here is a way they are alike: they both have difficulty trusting people. Viktor was, for obvious reasons, angry at Yuri, but ultimately he understands him: they both have relied on Yakov as a coach and as a father figure, and Yuri has decided to trust Yakov and Viktor has decided to not. 

And this is shattering to Yuri’s worldview, this idea that he could be wrong about who to trust. This isn’t about being right for the sake of being right, which Viktor would find unforgivable here. This is about being right for the sake of self-preservation, about building a support system and then doubting that you can rely on it.

And Viktor, who has felt this same doubt to the point of keeping a terrible secret for thirteen years, understands why Yuri needs him to take this leap of faith. It’s something that scares him, of course–I’ve already said it but it bears repeating, how much courage it has taken for Viktor to be here. But as he says to Yura later, he does, ultimately, feel lighter for it.

#yoi #yuri on ice #yoi fic #yoi fanfic #stammiviktor #fic: go forward slowly