#which was basically an ear piercing shriek of laughter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rubykgrant · 3 years

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(I can’t stop writing about the idiots in love, so here; have Simmons and Grif being love-struck dorks in what leads-up to them having snuggle time~)

All day long, they couldn’t stop giggling. Even with the armor on, they could tell when they were looking at each other, and that was all it took. They would try to hold back, then wind up choking on their own laughter. Because, despite the helmets hiding their faces, and without saying anything, they could tell they were both thinking the same thing when they looked at each other; That’s my BOYFRIEND. It made them feel light-headed with happiness, weak in the knees, silly and embarrassed, delighted and undeniably fond. They couldn’t stop giggling.

When they weren’t together, they still had their heads in the clouds; Grif was in a noticeably more pleasant mood than usual when he had work to do. Nobody wanted to question it much, however… it might make him realize what was happening, and then he’d fall back into complaining. Simmons seemed distracted. He still managed to get his work done, so that was fine… he just wasn’t paying much attention to what anybody said to him. The people around them shrugged this off and decided to ignore them. Nobody pressed the issue, and nobody knew that Grif and Simmons were now boyfriends.

They passed each other in the hall at one point near the end of the day, both going somewhere else. People weren’t paying attention to him, but if they were, they would have seen Grif visibly BOUNCE up when he saw Simmons (who started grinning inside his helmet).

“Oh hey, Tomato Can!”

“Shut up! What are you, one of those giant cans of pumpkin mix?”

Simmons reached out, playfully smacking at Grif as he walked by, and Grif did the same. In the middle of the smacking, they also grabbed and pulled on each other’s hands briefly. The giggles finally broke free, and they both could hear the laughter fade away the farther they walked. One again, nobody questioned this much. Grif and Simmons acting stupid and laughing was pretty typical behavior. It certainly wasn’t different from how they usually were.

It was several hours later when it was finally time to be done with work for the day (the day, in fact, was mostly over; it was after 9:30 at night). Simmons immediately went to change out of his armor. He carefully put each piece into it’s storage place, and then tried to NOT look like he was rushing off to see Grif back at their room as fast as possible. Normally, he changed out of the undersuit as well, putting on something loose and comfortable to wear as he went back to his room... it used to make him incredibly self-conscious to bee SEEN by other people in something that was so form-fitting. He also used to change out of the armor in a stall, just like he did way back in high school for PE; changing in and out of his gym clothes where nobody could see him, and only showering after all the other kids were gone. Well, finding out somebody was in love with you was a major ego-boost. He could finish changing back in their room, he was more concerned with getting to see his boyfriend than other people seeing him in the halls (also… it didn’t hurt that over the years, muscles had happened. Simmons had no illusions that he was a “totally buff hottie” or something, but he had come to accept that he wasn’t half-bad looking).

They both had different meal-time schedules today, Grif coming into the mess hall just when Simmons was done for both lunch and dinner. They once again teased and nudged as they passed, giggling at what was now an inside-joke; they were together, and nobody here even knew it, nobody here knew what a big deal it was, nobody knew they were in LOVE. Grif hasn’t felt so silly and infatuated like this since he was basically a kid, and for Simmons this is entirely uncharted territory. He’s not worried though, because he’s going on this romantic journey with Grif… as far as Simmons is concerned, that is absolutely perfect.

As he power-walked briskly, Simmons heard the sound of heavy, rushed foot-steps running up the hall behind him. He turned to see who it was, and there was Grif; he’d only partially changed out of his armor, the upper-half. He still had it on from the waist down. Evidently, he was in too much of a rush to bother with everything. Grif grinned at Simmons when their eyes met, and now Simmons smiled back at him, slightly slowing down as he stayed turned toward Grif, momentarily walking backwards… Grif was so eager to see his boyfriend, he was actually RUNNING. Before Grif caught up to him, Simmons suddenly had and idea. He began to increase how fast he walked, turned forward again, and sprinted down the hall. Grif caught on immediately; this was now a race, and Simmons wanted to beat him back to the room.

Simmons was fairly certain he would win; he had a head-start, Grif detested moving this fast, and the guy still had armor on his legs to weigh him down.

He was proven wrong when he was suddenly yanked back a step by his shirt, causing him to stumble as Grif pulled ahead.

“AHH! Bitch!” Simmons yelled, catching himself against the wall and laughing as he resumed running.

“What was that? I can’t hear you back there!” Grif yelled in return.

It was fairly empty in the halls of the ship, a few other random people were leisurely walking around, some of them still in their armor for late-duty. Luckily, none of them were very familiar with Grif and Simmons, and simply assumed these were two rowdy friends running around after work. Which was technically true… but if anybody who was close to them saw this (the people who had spent years with them, for example), it would trike them as odd; Grif, actually RUNNING, when it wasn’t toward a buffet or away from something life-threatening? Simmons, breaking several rules (that nobody but him took seriously, but still) and making noise like he had absolutely no inhibitions? If their friends had also seen them earlier, spacing out, giggling at each other uncontrollably, and sighing dreamily… perhaps they would have suspected something. Nobody from their group was seeing this. The two of them continued their chase, laughing and taunting each other.

When Grif got to the door, he paused just barely long enough to reach for the handle… and then Simmons slammed into him, knocking Grif off-balance. Grif didn’t fall, but he missed a beat as Simmons jumped inside, and shut the door, letting out a sound that was some kind of shriek, a mix of panic and delight.

“Hey! Let me in, you cheater!” Grif banged on the door.

“You cheated first!” he heard Simmons reply.

“Yeah, and then you go and stoop to my level? Not very mature, Simmons! You’re supposed to a good boy who follows the rules!” Grif tried the handle and pushed… but the door only moved an inch. Simmons was pushing back, shoulder against it and feet braced firmly.

“Well, I’m a crazy, rebellious, wild-card now! Who knows what I’ll do next! I might rob a bank!” it was hard for both of them to make any progress with the door either way; they were out of breath from running AND couldn’t stop giggling.

“Yeah right! You’d go in, try to yell stick-em up like a little kid, then apologize for raising your voice, and walk out of there with a job application!”

“Nuh-uh! I told you, I’m a loose-cannon now! I’m gonna get a tattoo on my bicep that says Born To Die!” Grif’s knees were turning to jelly at the mental thought of this. It was just too funny. “I’ll start wearing a jean jacket with no shirt all the time! I’m gonna get a faux-hawk and dye my hair neon green! I’m gonna legally change my name to a swear word that’s spelled wrong, like Phuck with a P-H! I’ll pierce my ears and wear little padlocks like earrings!”

“Holy crap, shut up dude!”

“I’m gonna tell Sarge… that I’m on BLUE TEAM NOW!”

Grif collapsed against the door, sliding down as he tried to gasp for air. This was such a ridiculous thing to use as an example of rebellion; Sarge had finally come to terms with the fact that blue wasn’t the color of sin, and Simmons had already gone through a fake-traitor incident with Blue Team. It just didn’t matter anymore… that’s why it was hilarious.

“Sim-Simmons… please just- just let me in, please, I’m dying out here, hahaha!” Grif was reduced to begging, and just hoped Simmons had an ounce of mercy.

“Well… since you said PLEASE…” the door finally opened. Grif found the strength to jump back up and pounce on him.

He grabbed Simmons by the waist, lifting him up off the ground, kicking the door shut. They were both laughing again, and Grif was planning on tossing Simmons into a chair, then maybe flicking him on the forehead as pay-back for the shove earlier… but then they looked at each other. Grif’s arms shifted, now one was under Simmons, supporting him. The other slid up his back, between his shoulders. Simmons kept giggling, leaning back and completely trusting that Grif would hold him up, now slightly hugging Grif with his legs, his hands kneading into Grif’s shoulders. As Grif stared at Simmons’ face, noticing all sorts of little details (the way his organic eye seemed to be lit up with excitement right now, the way he was biting the corner of his lower lip as he smiled, the way his nose wrinkled in an entirely too adorable way each time he quietly snorted with laughter), something happened; Grif felt his mouth water, like it did when he was ready to eat something he knew would be delicious (like his favorite kind of milk chocolate).

He mentally told himself he better swallow all this extra saliva fast, because he was definitely about to kiss Simmons. If he wasn’t careful, a waterfall of drool would pour out of his mouth when he parted his lips, which Simmons would NOT enjoy, and then Grif would have to kill himself, because how pathetic was it to finally start dating the dude you’ve been pining after for about 12 years only to drown him in spit the same day, HORRIBLY pathetic, there was no recovery from that, Grif would simply have to not be alive anymore, and why the hell was this even HAPPENING, Simmons wasn’t CHOCOLATE, why was Grif like this, why was his brain so stupid, why was his MOUTH so stupid, why why WHY-

He gulped just in time. Now it was Simmons’ turn to pounce on Grif, hands slipping up into Grif’s hair, making a soft little sigh as Grif kissed him back.

This was… this was the first time since their conversation about being in love and deciding to date that they were… out of their armor (mostly). The first time they could press their bodies close together and actually FEEL each other. Grif forgot all about the way the muscles in his legs were twitching and ignored the way his lungs burned after all the running… his attention was on Simmons. It was pretty clear that Simmons was also entirely focused on Grif. After a moment, they moved their mouths away from each other, and Grif laughed as his face was peppered with more little kisses, stumbling across the tiny room while trying to find a spot to set Simmons down. He finally leaned Simmons over his own bed, letting him drop onto the mattress. It was a sudden motion, but Simmons didn’t go far, and he kept making amused humming sounds as he bounced when he hit the bed.

“You’d better get the rest of your armor off. Unless you want to sleep in it again,” he told Grif.

“Yeah, that uh… that’s probably a good idea… I’ll do that…” Grif said, feeling light-headed (and once more filled with butterflies).

He was fairly certain Simmons had no clue what he was doing right now… no clue how GOOD he looked, leaning back across the bed, propping himself up with his elbows, hair tousled and messy in kind of a really great way, looking up at Grif so intently, face flushed… all while Grif stood in front of him, stood right between Simmons’ legs that bent over the edge of the bed, feet on the floor… and LITERALLY told Grif to undress. No, Simmons had no clue what he was doing, OR what it was doing to Grif.

Grif stepped back, going over to his bed on the other side of the room (barely 5 feet away). He wasn’t sure if Simmons was going to watch him the whole time he changed… it shouldn’t be so embarrassing; they’d changed in the same room like, a thousand times. They’d shared showers together from training days, to Blood Gulch, and almost every place they stayed (Simmons was always the nervous one about that, making such a big deal about NOT LOOKING or avoiding being LOOKED AT). This was a little different now, though… boyfriends. They were BOYFRIENDS. Grif was suddenly very AWARE of this fact. Grif was also aware that the last time they actually gotten undressed around each other and... and touched... was Chorus (and THAT had all sorts of complicated feelings attached to it, which Grif was in no mood to try and process at the moment, nope).

#writing #red vs blue #dexter grif #dick simmons #grimmons

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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

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‘today’s silm vocaloid song: clear sky engine (クリヤスカイ機関) by nyanyannya and hara ft. rin kagamine and zunko tohoku

this one’s about elrond, maglor, and the sudden non-ending of the world. you know that thing where you build an elaborate fandom video in your head for a completely unrelated song, but you don’t have the most basic art skills you’d need to make it a reality? yeah, i square that circle by writing them out. here, have an extremely long songfic/filk/commentary/thing

It was just another day, beneath a black sky

The bustle of camp churned on around me

I wasn’t paying attention to what my hands were doing

Dreaming of a shining star-lit sky

we open on elrond, living in a world about to die. the fëanorians were forced to abandon amon ereb years ago, and now the last of the host ekes out a precarious nomadic existence, raiding deserted villages for food and losing more people they can’t replace with each battle. they’re still doing better than everyone else on the mainland, though. their blades, at least, remain sharp

(the smoke from the fires of angband has risen to cover the whole continent in dark clouds. some of the sun’s warmth still gets through, and on good nights the star of high hope is still faintly visible, but the light-filled skies of old are little more than memory. all the survivors know that the end is near. it’s only a matter of time)

He’d broken a promise he’d made to us

So I was a little more annoyed at him than usual

He chatted with me while I worked to make up for it

And I made all my usual complaints

elrond and elros are at this point... i’d say very early teens? not that they had much of a childhood; the fëanorians are so short-staffed the twins have been doing odd jobs around camp pretty much since it became clear they weren’t going to run away. today elrond is taking stock of the medical supplies, less because he has any interest in the healing arts than because it’s a job that needs doing and everyone else is busy

maglor is hovering within talking distance, doing elrond-doesn’t-care-what. the twins’ relationship with maglor is extremely complicated to say the least, their mercurial hellbeast protector who scares the shit out of everyone else they’ve ever met and who has stood between them and the darkness for as long as they can remember. recently, he promised to stay with the twins while they did something difficult, but he failed to do so for a whole host of reasons, including getting into a two-hour shrieking match with maedhros at the last possible moment. elros shrugged it off, like elros shrugs everything off, but elrond is a simmering cauldron of adolescent rage at the best of times

which is why maglor’s checking on him, giving him an outlet for his anger before it can turn into despair. because what would be the point, in the end? they’re all going to die anyway. one of the reasons maglor’s resisted sending the kids to balar so hard is that no matter where they are, eventually morgoth will sweep down and destroy them all. there’s nowhere safe left, nothing they can do to protect them. none of this is even new, it’s a shadow that’s hung over them all since the twins grew old enough to understand this

so maglor and elrond chat, or rather elrond grumbles incessantly and maglor snarks as upliftingly as he can remember to. it’s a day like any other, nothing about it to distinguish it from the hundreds that came before or however many will come after. that is, until one of the lesser minions comes over, yelling, ‘boss! boss! you have to see this!’

elrond turns around. for the first time ever, he sees true hope on her face

“Have you finally grown tired of us?” I hissed

But in that moment excitement ran round the campsite

And someone cried out with joy

“The hour we thought would never be, the return of the light, has finally come to pass!”

far, far away, the hosts of the valar are landing on the shores of beleriand. disembarking from their luminous ships, clad in radiant armour and carrying blessed weapons, their brilliance pierces the dark fog that has settled over beleriand for so long. shining like the stars come to earth, the hallowed army of valinor begins its long march towards the gates of angband. far above, ships riding jets of light slice open the smog

this news - this unexpected, unbelievable, impossible miracle bestowed unto doomed beleriand, this chance that their enemy might actually fall - is the greatest thing anyone in camp’s heard all century. maybe in more prosperous times the host would have groused about the valar finally seeing fit to get off their asses, but in this world turned to ash any chance at victory is to be celebrated. the minions throw a massive impromptu party, of the kind they haven’t since before sirion. elros is right there with them, singing off-key and laughing as loud as anyone else. even maedhros cracks a tiny relieved smile

maglor watches the festivities from the outside, more genuinely optimistic than he thought he was still capable of. elrond joins him, brow furrowed as he tries to comprehend it all. they talk

“It feels like a dream I’ll never wake up from”

“What are you blabbering about now?”

elrond is voiced by zunko, maglor by rin. the song’s more of a dialogue than a duet, so i’ll be bolding maglor’s lines

The sheet of paper I held in my hands read

“The hosts of the West have come! Our world is saved!”

the letter’s from gil-galad, or at least his administrative apparatus. it’s not even that hostile; apparently the armies of the gods showing up out of nowhere to save them all from certain doom has him in a magnanimous mood. there’s some drivel about surrendering and eärendil and all wrongs being forgiven, but neither maglor nor elrond is paying attention to it

“Hey, do you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Love and justice and valour and hope”

“I remember the sea of blood you drowned everything in for them”

elrond didn’t really have any formal schooling - nobody had the time - but he has managed to pick up a lot of stuff from the stories the people around them tell. that the fëanorians came to middle-earth for high noble ideals, and that it was trying to fulfil those ideals that led them into darkness, is something maglor told him once, when he was in a darkly honest mood

“Haha, that’s just details, everybody makes that kind of mistake when they’re young”

“Why are you like this?”

a mood maglor’s obviously not in at the moment, if he’s laughing off the kinslayings like this; elrond knows this isn’t how he actually feels about them. normally elrond would just roll his eyes and move on with his life, but things are different today

The camp was full of laughter, as if everyone had lost their minds

elrond’s not used to happiness. not full, unironic happiness, untainted by the shadow of their inevitable death, not from the fëanorians. the sheer jubliation suffusing camp is fundamentally alien to him, a child of a world about to end. he doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that maybe they won’t all get eaten by dragons. he doesn’t know what to do with the hope in everyone’s eyes

so instead, when maglor wanders away from the party, elrond catches him with a song

“What if for one more year, ten more years, a hundred more years, the shadow still reigns?”

“Then ten thousand years, a hundred thousand years, a million years later, we’ll see it fall! For certain”

“What if I lay out all one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-eight of the fears I carry?”

“Then there’s one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-nine songs I can give to you”

maglor’s been teaching elrond how to do this, how to snatch someone into a world of music and throw your voice at them until one of you can’t take it any more. maglor wins this one, as usual; even if his song is incapable of anything but violence he’s got centuries of experience on elrond, enough to turn the sharp edges of his voice into blades in elrond’s hands. and that is what he’s doing, clumsy and harsh as he is; he’s trying to give elrond a reason to hope

elrond is the one who breaks the spell, dropping the melody, letting the music dissolve into the air. maglor flashes him a grin and walks off, humming merrily. elrond just stands there, still unable to understand

I’ve heard it before, it’s all anyone can talk about, even if I try to avoid it it stabs into my ears

cut past a decade or so, to well into the war of wrath. elrond and elros are in their mid-teens now. they’re still with the fëanorians, but these days the fëanorian warband is effectively an auxiliary unit to the amanyar army, skirting around the edges of that much larger force. for the first time in a long while, elrond and elros have regular-ish contact with people outside the fëanorian sphere of influence, mostly peripheral edain and the sindar who run messages between the camps. it’s different, talking to new people

(the sky is still covered with smog, but it’s gloomy grey, not oppressive black. the sun is faintly visible through it, most of the time. the rain is much less poisonous than it used to be, and on good nights you can almost see the moon. the closer they get to angband, the darker the clouds grow)

“It is as the gods have decreed, soon the darkness will be swept away and the Enemy will be cast down

And after the war in the purified world, we will all live happily together

Building new homes in a land unmarred by evil”

the people outside the host are much more optimistic about the future, for one. the fëanorian minions are happy morgoth is getting trounced but they don’t really talk about what comes after that, like they can’t imagine a world without war. the sindar, and especially the edain, on the other hand, have all these plans about the cities they’ll build, the arts they’ll perfect, the children they’ll raise in a world without danger. elros is super into this; he barely spends time with the fëanorians any more, he’s so busy going between different edain camps, making friends, planning for the future. elrond, though...

Even my twin knows what future to reach out for...

elrond doesn’t know what to do with any of this. the very concept that someday the war will end and the sky will clear and he’ll have a bright future is still something he doesn’t fully understand. even more, he’s defined himself for so long as not-a-fëanorian, now he’s regularly interacting with people who doubtlessly aren’t he’s having trouble figuring out what else he is. he’s stuck between people who are lowkey hoping they’ll die gloriously in battle and people who have been dreaming about what they’d do in a world without darkness all their lives, and he doesn’t know what he even wants, not really, not yet

so he keeps on living, just like he always has. he’s been promoted to sick tent dogsbody and is learning how to heal with song from the last minion who can kind of still do it. he acts as a proxy between the fëanorians and the more timid outsiders they keep running into. when he goes (or elros drags him) exploring in other camps, he keeps track of every new detail he comes across, in case it’s somehow useful later

and he keeps talking to maglor, with anger and spite and sarcasm and whatever other emotion he’s covering his uncertainties with today. maglor always listens, usually offers to help, and sometimes elrond even lets him. the fëanorian camp settles into a rhythm of buildup-fight-recovery-buildup-fight-recovery, so regular it lulls elrond into complacency. he takes the future he still doesn’t quite believe in one day at a time, until suddenly the ground crumbles beneath his feet

You say it’s to ‘fulfill our ideals’ but what you mean by that is ‘to sate our bloodlust’, I know

With their blades and teeth sharpened for battle, the kinslayers broke away from the light and disappeared into the shadows

there’s a whole mountain of reasons why, as they draw near to angband, the dregs of the fëanorian host abruptly peel off from the valinorean army and vanish into the night. they know they're more effective as a stealthy shock ambush unit, they’re somewhat concerned the amanyar will turn on them the second morgoth is no longer a problem, they're making one last desperate rush for the silmarils, all that and more. it’s not the first time they’ve suddenly packed up and left before their enemies can react, probably not even the first time they’ve done it to the hosts of valinor. there’s just one little difference

Leaving us behind? Leaving you behind

they’re not taking the twins. said twins only find out about this, like, the day before they decamp. maedhros’ justification is something about them not being able to support noncombatants on the march, but the twins believe that about as much as they believe that the fëanorians are doing this for any kind of hope. elros, of course, was half-planning on leaving anyway, going off to chase his own ambitions with his new edain posse. he copes with it pretty well, relatively

but elrond’s mind goes blank. once he thought the day they let them go would be the best day of his life, but now it’s come it feels so wrong, and this horrible coldness is seeping into him. in a flash of what feels like foresight, he suddenly knows the people who raised him will never come back. how dare - why - he can’t -

with a sharp desperate burst of sound that’s a surprise to even himself, elrond lashes out a song to catch maglor

“For ten more minutes, one more week, half a year, please, let me stay with you!”

“In a year’s time, ten years’ time, a hundred years’ time, we’ll see the starlit sky together”

“What if one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-eight times I begged you not to go?”

“Then there’s one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-nine of your other wishes I’ll hear”

and elrond just stops. he lets the song trail off, staring at maglor. he’s in an incredibly weird mood, with something that could almost be compassion in his eyes

there’s only one way he can find out what’s happening, elrond realises

“In that case - !”

maglor was never really demonstratively affectionate with the twins. it would never have come off as real on his part, and they wouldn’t have believed it in any case. still, he supported them. he let them trail behind them, all but cling to the backs of his legs, in those first horrible weeks when they were terrified of absolutely everything. he taught them to ride and he taught them to read, how to reinforce a blade with nothing but song and close a wound with needle and thread. on the darkest nights, when all the world was filled by the howling beasts of morgoth and the wailing of the unhallowed dead, he held them tight and flared his own fires high, a warm smoky bonfire between them and the void. he answered their questions, and told them stories

and sometimes, he tried to be kind

“Sing me a lullaby like the flat of a blade”

“Which one would you like?”

“I want to see a flower that will still bloom”

“I know just the one”

“I don’t care what kind of monster you are! Just please stay with me, for even one more tomorrow...”

“...I’m sorry”

“What do you mean?”

“You were given your name because your parents wanted you to see the stars someday”

it was easy for maglor to justify keeping the twins when they didn’t have a future. the shadow of death blotted out the sky, so why not hold them close for whatever little time they had left? no matter where they were, the void would soon claim them all

except it didn’t. in the end they were not forsaken. the sacred light came out of the west to burn away the darkness and finish the war he once thought they could never win. the hosts of the valar have gotten farther in decades than the noldor did in centuries, and soon enough they’ll cast the enemy down and release the world from his terrible maw. and then the future the free peoples dreamed of will stretch out before them, full of possibilities beyond measure

and that’s why maglor has to let them go. the magnificent people that elrond and elros are already becoming will only wither among hopeless kinslayers who have nothing left but the sword. to flourish into their full glorious selves, they need to be with people who dream, who can travel towards the future alongside the twins with light hearts and songs on their lips. maglor refuses to let his own darkness drown the last people in the world he does not hate. elrond deserves so, so much better than maglor is capable of giving him. he deserves to see the stars

hearing all that, there’s only one thing elrond can say

“You can’t even keep one miserable promise! Don’t pretend like you’re my father, kinslayer!”

and that’s the last elrond sees of maglor. the fëanorians vanish in the middle of the night, leaving elrond and elros (and about half a dozen minions who are taking their last possible chance to get out) behind. elros takes up with his edain buddies and starts making contacts and forging alliances. elrond winds up in gil-galad’s orbit, surrounded by people who are very understanding about how awful his childhood was, which just pisses him off more. he doesn’t throw tantrums or refuse to work, those aren’t luxuries he was raised with, but he spends a fair bit of time spurning every bit of sympathy and aid he’s offered and trying not to cry himself to sleep

with time, though, he finds a place. it starts with círdan, the first person who believes elrond about what his time with the fëanorians was like. then he befriends erestor, and then gil-galad starts actually respecting the way elrond feels, and then he gets officially taken on as an apprentice healer. he starts learning about his own ancestors and their peoples, and reaching out for stories he never knew could be his. as the final battle of the iron hells begins, elrond is doing... better

and soon, the hope that no one in beleriand once dreamed would be fulfilled becomes a reality

And then, as if it had never held power, the darkness was cast down...

they win the war. the armies of angband are crushed. the peaks of thangorodrim are torn down. the prisoners of the deepest pits of the iron hells are freed. the forces of evil are scattered to the four winds. morgoth, the fallen vala himself, is defeated and captured and bound with great chains, unable to ever hurt anyone again. the precious remnants of the light of the trees, the remaining two silmarils, are recovered. the dark clouds evaporate, and for the first time elrond can remember, the sky is perfectly clear. the war of the jewels is finally over

elrond has grown so much since the day he first heard that the hosts of the west had come. he still can’t quite believe it

They held a great celebration beneath a star-speckled sky I’d never seen before

“The world is saved and we are freed! Evil has been vanquished forevermore”

The triumphant voices of the generals poured out over the victory feast while the stars shone true above the happy ending

the soldiers of valinor and the people of beleriand (what’s left of them) throw a truly massive party. it’s still tinged with their grief over everything they’ve lost, but the atmosphere is primarily one of ecstatic relief. they’re alive, and they’ve come out the other side. dwarvish tailors dance with high maiar, humans who don’t remember the moon get drunk with elves who remember cuiviénen. even after the official festivities die down and people start hashing out what they want to do next, the general mood remains buoyant and cheerful. at long last, they live in a world without danger

none of it feels real to elrond. gil-galad’s talking about building a kingdom on the other side of the blue mountains, elros and his grand edain alliance are trying to bully the maiar into letting them set up on tol eressëa, and elrond feels so disconnected from it all, like he’s watching someone else’s life. he’s happy the enemy has been overcome, of course he is, but he’s not feeling the overwhelming joy everyone else is. he can’t let his guard down yet, something is still wrong -

Except he hasn’t come back, they haven’t come back, where did they go, what have they done?

The word raced around as fast as the wind, giving me an answer I never wanted to hear -

where is maglor? the fëanorians broke off to fight the war their own way, but the war is over now, where are they? they were so happy to hear that the amanyar had arrived, he can’t imagine them not thrilled to see the enemy they hated more than anything else fall. in the warm afterglow of victory, it feels like even their sins might be forgiven, and they could finally go home. they have nothing else left; why wouldn’t they take that outstretched hand?

but nobody’s so much as glimpsed their flag since some time before the final battle. elrond quietly assumes, perhaps even hopes, that they all died fighting, and yet he can’t shake the cold dread crawling up his spine

elrond has mixed feelings about the silmarils, and doesn’t particularly care to be near them. by the time the news of their theft reaches him, maedhros and maglor have already fled into the night

Still driven on by their oath, they turned their blades on their kin one last time

“And stole away the hallowed light”

Yes, that light which sank all of our lands beneath a deep dark layer of corpses and ash

all elrond sees is the aftermath, the blood sinking into the ground. it’s far from the first time he’s seen people killed, but somehow now it’s all hitting him, all at once. he sees the bodies and it knocks the breath out of him. all he can see is the dead, from finwë on down, the rotting carcasses of every last person who was slaughtered for these gems, a whole continent bleached with death. they call the silmarils the most beautiful things in the world, jewels shining with the very light of creation, but elrond can’t see it for the blood they’re dripping with

that’s the immediate thing that has his hands shaking and his breath running cold. by morning it’s had a chance to sink in a little, and -

He lied he lied he lied he lied

maglor regretted the kinslayings! elrond knows he did! it was never even something he actually said, it was obvious from the way he talked about them. every single one was a complete disaster, nothing the fëanorians ever got out of them was worth what they lost in the process, and afterwards things always got worse in ways they never expected. and maglor hated the person the kinslayings had turned him into, elrond spent enough time around him to pick up on that much! surely he’d do anything to not have to commit another one?

apparently not! apparently all that regret, all that loss, the arguments and the nightmares and the coldly determined efforts to stop them following his path, it all meant nothing! he still gave in to despair or maedhros or whatever, killed yet more people, stole from the army whose return he said was like a dream come to life, spat in the face of his last chance to go home, and vanished! gil-galad’s people were right! he really is nothing more than a monster!

the shock of it all makes something snap in elrond, whatever fragile optimism he absorbed from the people around him draining away until he feels completely hollow. hundreds of years of suffering and death, and for what?

Smeared with the blood of untold hundreds, untold thousands, untold millions of people

Did they buy us peace for even half a year, even a week, even ten minutes?

Noooooooo!

Even the very land we lived on crumbled and drowned

What was the point?! What was the point?! What was the point?!

I feel like I’m going insaaaaaaane

morgoth may have fallen, but beleriand is dead! nothing remains, not the lush green lands of the stories, or even the dessicated forests of his childhood, just desolate earth and the devouring sea. almost everywhere he’s ever known, almost everyone who lived and fought and dreamed there, are lost forever. nothing was saved, everything was destroyed, what good is a clear blue sky when there’s nothing beneath it?! how can they call this a happy ending?!

elrond can’t see any light here, all the great battles and heroic deeds seem absolutely pointless in the face of everyone and everything immolated in the endless grasping for these gems. the hosts of valinor leave the continent they shattered, the remnants of gil-galad’s people escape the raging forces of nature, and the survivors bicker and fight over resources just like the fëanorian minions elrond grew up around. the world is never going to get better, he realises. the dream of a paradise will never come true

and then one night, running a message down the craggy still-turbulent coastline, he hears a snatch of a distant, familiar voice

I can hear a voice whittled away to a weapon singing what could almost be a lullaby -

elrond leaps off the ridge and onto the rocky beach, scrambling over the uneven ground. he’s heard the rumours about where maedhros and/or maglor went - all of them, there’s dozens of them, he didn’t pay any particular heed to the ones where maglor wandered the coast, but if they were right, if he’s here -

his own voice has grown strong over the years, solid and forceful and mature. elrond screams his song into the emptiness, hoping against hope it will be heard

“What if for one more year, ten more years, a hundred more years, the shadow still reigns?”

“Then ten thousand years, a hundred thousand years, a million years later, we’ll see it fall! Isn’t that so?!”

“What if I lay out all one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-eight of the griefs I carry?”

“Then there’s one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-nine days for you to live!”

“That must be it...”

the impression of a hand touching his cheek, the ghost of a smile. for a moment someone else’s voice slips into the ebb and flow of his song, a shadow reaches out to wipe the tears off his face. live, it whispers. you who i held dearest last, live

elrond’s breath catches in his throat, and the song, and the shadow, vanish. it’s just him on a forsaken beach, the only sounds the waves crashing and the gulls calling. the sky is completely overcast, the clouds dull and grey. he watches them drift along for a while, as his pulse slows down and his airways clear up. live, the word echoes in his mind

he waits until his breathing is back to normal and the churning emotions inside him have settled into a form he can handle. then he wipes his face and clambers back onto the ridge

(life. it’s not much, but it’s enough. it has to be. his home is destroyed, but he is alive; his family is broken, but he is alive. he is alive, and they want him to live, as much as he can while he still has a chance. the world he lives in will never be perfect, but he knows how to work with that)

(and besides - elros, círdan, gil-galad, erestor, the other healers, the small knot of elves of all stripes who seem determined to follow his banner. he hasn’t lost everything, not yet, and he won’t let the world take away what he has left. he’ll never abandon those he loves)

the clouds are lightening. soon the stars will be out. elrond takes a deep breath, and starts running towards his future and the person he’s going to be -

thousands of years later, a memory resurfaces

“Two million, two hundred and forty-one thousand, five hundred and thirty-nine days... Ah, yes. I know I forgot to say it earlier, but you did a very good job”

a smattering of notes are lifted by the ocean breeze. they travel inland, across the worn-down mountains, around the weathered hills, above the tangled forests, up the untamed rivers, and finally into the hidden valley

in the gardens of imladris, lord elrond hears a voice he hasn’t for millennia. a watering can slips out of his hands, and suddenly he can’t breathe

It was just another day, beneath a dark sky

The ocean and the wind roared on all around me

I wasn’t paying attention to how my tears were falling

Trying to remember a clear star-lit sky

that youthful dream of a world free from evil never came true. the shadow came back, and it kept coming back, taking his people, his friends, his family, his wife. everything they built after the defeat of morgoth has been reduced to dust by the weight of time, and every year more of it slips through his fingers. elrond doesn’t know how much more of it he can endure. he doesn’t know how much more he can lose

he chases that scrap of music all the way to the seashore

I ran down the path between the rocks and the spray following that voice I never knew why I loved

But in the end I could only stand weeping

elrond searches up and down the coast, scouring the shoreline for clues, asking the locals, listening. sometimes he hears whispers of song, long wailing lamentations that make his heart ache all the more now that he understands how that despair feels. occasionally it’s loud or consistent enough he can track it, trying to pinpoint the singer’s location in the intense storms of bitterness and grief

but he never finds anything

“You fool, he’s already gone. Like he was never there at all...”

all that’s left is a voice on the wind

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kaitoujokerscans · 3 years

Text

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH3

<3> Noir Strikes!

The violent tremor made Hachi and Hosshi shriek.

"Eeek!"

"Hosshi!"

"W-Whawazzat!? Is Spade back!?" Joker looked up. The middle of the Sky Joker was a giant gas-filled sac called an envelope, and it was sandwiched top and bottom by the airframe. Joker and the rest were in the lower part, whereas the tremor had come from the upper part. The two people and one pet ran through the hallway up into the upper gondola. The collection room for less recent treasures was up there. All their spoils of victory were organized compactly in it.

"Joker-san, over there!" Hachi pointed to a gaping hole in the ceiling. The obvious assumption was that someone had blasted it open.

"..." Joker put himself on guard. He slowly surveyed the room, and just then, he caught a glimpse of a fluttering cape.

"Who's there!"

He could see the silhouette illuminated by the light of the moon. A long cape draped behind his lanky body, and a large silk hat covered his head. He looked familiar — seeing him, Joker shouted out abruptly. "Master!"

Yes, he looked exactly like Joker's master, Silver Heart. But then the moon's light shone over the man's face.

"Wha...!" Joker's expression froze up. That wasn't Silver Heart...!

The man's round spectacles glinted. Behind them, callous eyes quietly regarded Joker. As the moon's light gradually shifted, the man could be discerned better. He wore the same hat and double-breasted suit as Silver Heart, but their colors were the exact opposite. Gold buttons shimmered on his jet-black suit, and his black hat was emblazoned with a golden letter "N".

"Greetings, Phantom Thief Joker..." came a low, monotone voice. The wind should have been roaring from outside, yet the man's words reached the pair's ears calmly and clearly.

"My name is Noir. I'm certain my advance notice found its way to you..." It was evident from the man's voice that he was much older. The voice that streamed out of his seasoned throat flowed forth with gravitas.

His voice had a strange ring to it. It left no impression, as if you would forget about it if he weren't standing right there.

"..." Joker noticed that his usual lackadaisical attitude had gone. What is this feeling...? Joker's instincts were telling him that the man in front of him was dangerous. Regardless, he plucked himself up and spoke like normal.

"I've been waiting, Phantom Thief Noir. Looks like you're after my treasure." The corners of Joker's mouth were raised, but his smile was stiff.

"That is correct. My intel tells me that those terming themselves 'phantom thieves' must send out advance notice..." said Noir deliberately.

Joker responded loudly, as if he were trying to shake off his nerves. "Obviously that's what phantom thieves do! That's what my master taught me!"

"Your master... is that so, heh heh heh..." Noir chuckled. His strange laughter was unsettling to Joker. "And your master's name is...?" asked Noir. He sounded as if he were asking a question to which he already knew the answer.

"My master... is the Silver Magician, Silver Heart!"

"Heh heh heh... As I thought..." Noir leered, his eyes glimmering eerily. "Then as announced, I will take your treasure...!" Noir lifted a hand high and snapped his fingers. Then immediately, BOOM! BOOM! — a series of explosions roared, blasting off the Sky Joker's entire roof.

"Wha-!?"

"What just happened!?"

"Hosshi!?"

Above them was the expanse of night sky. A fierce wind buffeted Joker. Then Noir stuck up one index finger and said to Joker:

"One minute."

"Huh?"

"Shield the treasure from me for one minute. If you can protect it for a full minute, I will accept defeat and leave here."

"You what..." Joker glared at Noir.

"Joker-san!"

"Don't worry, Hachi. A minute'll be over in no time." Joker may have been acting flippant, but he expected this to be a tough match. As someone who lived in a world where every second mattered — and even shorter intervals too — Joker knew best how long a minute could drag out for. And there was one other thing...

Joker heard a voice inside his head. Shield the treasure from me for one minute. Joker had heard this phrase before. It was probably back when...

"The count's already begun!"

Noir's shout cut off Joker's train of thought. He threw up his cards to block Noir's attack. Noir, tall in stature, had swung a knife. Masterfully wielding the short blade, he beat down upon Joker.

Joker blocked the knife blade frantically. The strikes were hardly swift. Nonetheless, he would quite plainly be injured if he didn't guard against them. Noir's blade was honed in on Joker that precisely.

"Rrgh! Rrghhh...!"

"What's the matter, Joker? Your pocket's unguarded! I can pilfer the crystal from it at any time!"

"!?" Joker took a giant leap back, flipping in midair before landing. He had found out that the gem was in his breast pocket. Joker softly patted over the pocket. He could feel the crystal. It hadn't been taken yet...

He's toying with me...!

Joker's competitive spirit was ignited. He fanned his cards out and yelled. "Straight Flash!"

The cards shone with blinding light, and Noir raised a hand to his eyes. While he was still immobile, Joker jumped back towards Noir.

You can't win just by defending! No matter how far back you're pushed, going on the offensive will open a path to victory!

Remembering what Silver Heart had told him long ago, Joker charged towards Noir. If he could just make him drop his knife by using his cards, he wouldn't be able to attack any more.

"Hiiyah!"

It was just as his cards had caught the knife. Joker saw a suspicious glint in his field of view. Oh shoot...!

Joker scrambled to twist his body while off the ground. As he did, he felt a sharp knife whizz right past his nose. Had he noticed the glint any later, the blade would most likely have cut into his face.

But how... He shouldn't be able to see right now!

It was then that a heavy impact rocked through Joker's body.

Noir's knee had caught Joker in the stomach. Massive pain pervaded his body, and Joker could no longer breathe. Then he felt his lapel being grabbed at. As soon as he processed this, Joker's body was tossed into the air. Noir had sent Joker flying with a model shoulder throw. Joker's scrawny body hit the floor like a rag doll.

"GWHAAAAAH!" Joker let out an incoherent howl. His whole body was in agony.

"Joker-san!"

"Ghh... I'm... okay, Hachi..." The falling position he had taken just before hitting the floor had done its job. He didn't have any bone damage, at least. Joker got up wobblily and scowled at Noir. When he did, he saw that the spectacles Noir had over his eyes had been replaced with sunglasses.

"When did you...!?"

The sunglasses had blocked the light and rendered Straight Flash ineffective. Noir then touched the end piece of his sunglasses and turned a tiny knob. The tinted sunglasses instantaneously changed back into the same transparent spectacles they had been before.

"W-What are those!?" Hachi exclaimed in surprise.

"...Polarized lenses, eh."

"That's correct, Joker-kun."

Polarized lenses have a special coating that prevent light from coming in from anywhere but one specific direction. If two polarized lenses were aligned in the same direction, they would appear at first glance to be normal lenses, but by changing their orientation, light wouldn't pass through and the lenses would turn dark like sunglasses. They are much like the light shade plates used when looking at the sun.

"You predicted my attack...?"

"Hardly a remarkable feat. I only imagined how my opponent would attack two or three steps ahead. Then I changed danger into an opportunity. According to my intel, this is the basics of being a phantom thief. I'm sure you're aware of this...?"

"Ghh..." Joker bit his lip in frustration. Master said this too. How does he know Master's teachings...? His attacks were being read like a book. This was the first time he had faced such a formidable opponent.

But...

Joker's spirit hadn't been broken yet. He could still feel the crystal against his chest. The pocket that Joker had the crystal in was bifold. Just sticking your hand in wasn't enough to pry out anything. You had to put your hand in all the way and under another layer of cloth to get at whatever what was inside. Noir probably hadn't been able to get his hand all the way in there.

"But it looks like I still won. I protected the treasure for a full minute...!"

"..." Noir stared at Joker silently.

"What's wrong? Aren't you the one who said the match would only last a minute, gramps?"

Then Noir laughed derisively — at himself. "Hmph, it seems I'm slower than I once was... It took more time than anticipated to snatch the crystal from that second inner pocket of yours," Noir said, and waved his hand. Almost like magic, a bright red crystal ball shone in Noir's fingers.

"T-That's...!" Bewildered, Joker put a hand to his lapel. There was a hard sensation.

How...!? In a panic, he probed inside the pocket and removed the crystal — but the thing he pulled out was no gem. It was a rock about the same size as the crystal. The rock was hefty and sank in Joker's palm.

"When did you...!?"

"Just after I mentioned your pocket to you. I deliberately set you on edge, only for you to be relieved moments later. That relief was the key. You could say you dropped your guard. When you let down your guard, used the shining cards, and approached me, that was when I took it. Slowly, with these deteriorating hands..."

"......" Wordlessly, Joker sank to his knees. I didn't notice at all...

Noir had gotten his hand into Joker's pocket, removed the crystal, and to top it all off, he had even planted a dummy. Joker had utterly lost...

"Now then, I will leave with the treasure. You're fairly clever. Your aptitude is wasted as a phantom thief." Noir's words pierced right through Joker. "According to my intel, you were least skilled at 'protecting treasure for one minute' drills."

"What...?"

The one who had told him to "shield the treasure from me for one minute" during his training had been none other than Joker's master, Silver Heart. What Noir had proposed was exactly the same as his master's training.

"...Do you know Master?"

"Yes, far better than you do. He was quite a talented man. Yet a talented master will not necessarily have talented disciples..."

"'Scuse me!?"

"Farewell, Phantom Thief Joker!" Noir twirled his black cape. It was such a dark, obscure black that it was as if the stars around him had vanished. The cape wrapped around him with a fwoosh, and an instant later, Noir was gone.

In the darkness of the blustery night, Joker, Hachi, and Hosshi stood idle, staring stupefied at the empty void.

#kaitou joker #light novel

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wonderland-in-bloom · 4 years

Text

around the bonfire [pt.1]

in which the reader and the fellow first years decide to do a...chilling...activity at the beach under the moonlight as it becomes later by the minute.

this is part one of a two part series! this is one of my posts for the summer beach bash writing collab held by the amazing, the one and only @nonsensical-twistedriddles 💙i hope you all enjoy this story :))

love, a♕

dive deep into night time summer activities with the first years of night raven college under the cut!

THE sun sank just below the horizon as the once blue sky was engulfed by the amethyst and navy blue blend of the night sky. the waves crashed against the golden sand of the beach while the wind started to howl. you shivered, inching closer towards the bonfire in front of you, being the only source of warmth in the once boiling hot beach to a now cold and chilly one. you rubbed the sides of your arms, trying your best to keep yourself warm. maybe wearing a tank top at night wasn’t such a good idea. all of a sudden you felt something warm be draped over your shoulders. “i figured you might be cold…” jack rubbed the back of his neck after he placed his jacket on top of your shoulders. “thank you.” you giggled, causing your fellow first year friend to blush. sebek sighed while throwing a branch to the fire, making the fire grow much larger.

“it’s oddly quiet…” deuce commented. truth be told, it was. aside from the ear piercing sounds of the ocean and the wind, it was quiet and you could probably hear a pin being dropped into the sand. you were currently huddled up with your friends which consisted of ace, deuce, grim, jack, epel, and sebek. your seniors were nowhere to be found. “alright then, i got an idea!” ace suddenly cheered, which changed the atmosphere completely. “what about...scary stories around the bonfire~?” you all paused for a while, processing the information in your head. “heck no.” deuce retorted. “hah! just say you’re scared, juice-kun~” ace teased as he poked deuce’s cheek. “that’s actually a good idea! the great grim-sama isn’t scared of some story.” he proudly beamed while he sat in a more comfortable position on your lap. “ya know...it might be fun, actually.” epel added on. “i’ll protect you if you’re scared, human.” sebek pointed out, causing you to roll your eyes but you had a smile plastered on your face. jack stayed quiet but went along with it anyways. “ALRIGHT!!! who’s first?” you all eyed ace. “what?”

“shouldn’t the one who suggested this whole idea go first?” this time it was deuce’s turn to tease him. “tch. fine, fine. i already have one in mind anyways.” he cleared his throat. “sit back, relax, cuddle up closer, make sure there’s nothing behind you...and let the story begin.” you gulped a little loudly and scooted closer to the fire. “my story is based on a true story, that none other than i experienced.” ace continued. “one stormy night, the wind was howling and rain slammed itself against the windows of heartslabyul.” deuce’s eyes widened, causing you to chuckle a little. “the lights were all off as it was near the witching hour, and aLL OF A SUDDEN LIGHTNING BOOMED ACROSS THE SKY!” ace screamed, causing you and the other boys to flinch. ace chuckled when he saw the reactions he expected. “there i was in my room, close to falling asleep, but then...i heard a sound. it was a low, unnatural sound. like a growl almost. i sat up from my bed and listened closer to the sound, and it was still there. i got up and headed down the hall, but that sound managed to follow me!” epel gulped, he started to shift his position closer to you.

“it was so loud it sounded like it was right beside me...but no one in heartslabyul was awake…so i followed the sounds all the way to the kitchen, and it stopped.” all of you were hooked onto ace’s story. what was this deep, guttural growl-like sound that kept following him? “but suddenly...it GREW LOUDER THEN EVER BEFORE!” he screamed again, causing grim to scream in return and collapse back on your lap. you and the others were a little shaken up (due to the eerie, cold, dark atmosphere of the beach as well). “so i looked around the whole kitchen. from the tallest shelves to the lowest cupboards. but i concluded that the sound stopped when i opened the fridge. sitting there was a red glazed tart, basically calling my name, and when i had laid my eyes on it, the sounds stopped.” wait. something clicked inside your head. was the weird, low sound that followed ace….? was it just his stomach grumbling?! “but that’s not even the scary part...when i wanted to take the tart to investigate it, an ungodly, horrible, scary voice came from behind me, sending chills down my whole spine.” ace cleared his throat. “ah~my, my, ace. what are you doing up this late? and what are you doing with that tart? you know it goes against the rules.”

you all froze. “...wait was the story actually that scary?” ace was having too much fun retelling his story that he failed to realize that there was another voice which was interlapping with his own. “u-uhh.. a-ace…” you stuttered, raising a shaking finger and pointed behind him. “haha! oh (y/n), is this your best attempt at scaring me?” however ace was taken aback and was visibly shaken when he heard a chuckle from behind him, causing the hairs on his arms stand up straight. “i see. an ‘ungodly, horrible, scary voice, huh? well how about this? OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” you all screamed when a familiar heart-shaped collar was chained around ace’s neck. “WHAT?! NOT AGAIN!” he groaned. “HAHAHHA, POOR ACE-CHAN!” cater laughed after ending the recording on his phone. he managed to record the whole story. “it was your fault you skipped dinner for doing something stupid.” trey added. the three seniors from heartslabyul joined your little circle. “MY HORROR STORY CAME TRUE! ARGH!” ace cursed to himself. “well, continue the stories, fellow juniors.”

“uh...alright? who’s next?” you asked the five remaining boys. “...i’ll go.” jack sighed and replied with a hint of hesitation in his voice. “this story is one i heard from a lot of my extended family growing up.” jack started. “they say in one of the deep forests in the land of pyroxene, a beast haunts the grounds and the lake.” a nearby bush rustled, causing them all to snap their heads in that direction. they all dismissed it as being the wind and jack continued. “it says that the beast was a demon. forever set to haunt anyone who dares venture through the forest at night. it has typical pointy teeth. sharp claws always bared, dripping with blood. and at night, if you hear it’s cackle, it means you’re doomed.” with the howl of the wind, you all heard laughter along with it. “uh, hey...did someone laugh just now?” cater gulped. “nah! one of you must be doing that!” grim tried to assure himself. “it must’ve just been the wind then…” trey tried calming everyone down before they heard another laugh.

“i’m sure it’s nothing” you tried to brush it off, hiding your own fear. “it also said this demon is able to shapeshift and take a form which allows it to breathe underwater.” without warning, a splash could be heard coming from nearby. “this is getting way too suspicious...” riddle muttered. “my uncle once said that there once was a girl who went to this forest at night. she heard a splash come from the lake behind her, then a growl.” as soon as jack’s sentence stopped a growl was heard from behind you. no one seemed to notice except you. you quickly snapped your head back...but of course, like typical horror movie fashion, there was nothing there. “she was found missing the next day...” you flinched to feel a weird sensation around your neck. something sharp. you then felt something lean down beside you and whispered in your ear. “ah~ hear that, prey? you’re my dinner for tonight~” this voice..! “what a delicious dinner you’ll be, koebi-chan~” you shrieked. you eyed the figures behind you before falling back into the sand.

behind you were two, all too familiar figures who decided to mess with you. “leona-senpai! floyd-senpai!” they chuckled. “were you scared, koebi-chan~?” leona extended his hand to help you up. “not gonna lie, a little bit.” you smiled. they sure did scare you. “and the laughing was…” three more figures popped from behind the bushes. azul, jade, and ruggie. “that was a good one.” ruggie chuckled to himself, azul, and jade agreeing. “that was indeed an interesting story, jack-san.” azul commented. “allows us to mess with all of you…” jade chuckled. so they all joined your little circle as well.

the wind seemed to become much more alive, as it’s howls and groans grew louder than before. the ocean decided to join along and became more aggressive as the tide started to rise. although there were more people together with you, you felt much more unsettled. perhaps it was the eerie atmosphere, already tainted with two stories which managed to make you shiver. or perhaps it was the wind and the ocean, which seemed to resemble monsters, ready to swallow all of you whole. or maybe...it was because of more stories to come around the bonfire...

♡

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diazevan · 4 years

Photo

No. 14. Is Something Burning? “Fire”

When a night out goes drastically wrong, Pepper realizes that she and Michelle lead a similar life.

AO3 Link

Pepper adored Peter.

She had since the day she met him.

She constantly thanked him, silently, and sometimes, to his face, for being a part of their lives.

Even when he was gone, for those five years, his impact, lived on.

They wouldn’t have Morgan, if Peter hadn’t taught Tony, at the right moment, that he could step out of Howard’s shadow and be a good dad.

Having Peter back, made everything fall together, perfectly, for the first time.

Hand-in-hand, with Peter, came Michelle.

Peter’s everything, his partner in crime, and somebody for him, to effortlessly tease Tony with.

Pepper loved her too, and the influence she had on Peter, she seemed to be helping him overcome hurdles that no one else could.

A double date sounded far fetch, at first, but Michelle proposed it, and Pepper finalized it.

They made quite a team.

An old theater was showing a highlight of Charlie Chaplin’s movies.

All four of them liked old movies, which made for the perfect night out, where superheroing duties took a backbench.

Pepper skipped through the foyer, leaving Tony at the desk, to check in their coats “Hey.” She laid her hands on Peter and Michelle’s shoulders, “If I were you two, I would have asked to sit far far away from us.”

Michelle snorted a laugh, “Why?”

Peter frowned, tilting his head, to his shoulder, “Is this about the Charlie Chaplin look-alike competition?”

Michelle grinned, ear-to-ear, “The what now?”

Pepper waved her hand dismissively, “My husband claims that he won a Charlie Chaplin lookalike competition.”

Tony appeared beside her, “I didn’t claim anything,” He chipped in, “It’s true.”

“Oh, my God,” Peter inclined his head, pressing his hands together, gesturing them towards Tony, “You literally wouldn’t shut up about it last night, it’s why I volunteered to carry Morgan to bed.”

Tony’s jaw dropped, he made an act of raising his hand, to his chest, “I’m offended, kid.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, “Also, I looked it up last night, and there were zero results.”

“Nobody knew it was me,” Tony raised his shoulder in half-shrug, “I used a pseudonym.”

Pepper pulled on his arm, “Oh, look, we can sit down now.”

They all started walking into the theater, in an orderly fashion.

Tony leaned forward, “I’m gonna find the photos later.”

Peter turned, keeping his arm linked with Michelle’s, “So, Friday—"

“Friday has nothing,” Tony sang, “Like, I said, nobody knew it was me.”

Pepper shook her head, with a laugh, “We get it.”

“Should we get—” Michelle and Peter spoke in unison, “—Popcorn?”

They acted normal because it happened all the time.

They were the definition of cute, Pepper was sure.

Tony leaned in, whispering in her ear, “How adorable.”

She gently nudged his foot, with hers, “Leave them alone.”

Tony clapped his hands together, “I’ll pick us up some popcorn, you lot can go and find our seats.” He shuffled away, quick on his feet.

Pepper took a seat, on their aisle, leaving the space between her and Peter free, for Tony. She buried her hand in her pocket, to check if May had messaged her with any questions about Morgan.

All she'd been sent was a selfie of the pair watching Finding Nemo.

She sent back a couple of heart emojis.

Peter and Michelle’s gentle chuckles caught Pepper’s attention. The duo were holding hands, muttering among themselves, desperately trying to conceal their laughter; Peter was red in the face, and whatever they were discussing, had brought tears to Michelle’s eyes.

Pepper smiled, they were truly infectious, and she couldn’t get enough of them.

Michelle had become a vital part of their everyday lives, rather fast, but Pepper would have it no other way.

She saw the way they looked at one another, the longing stares, and the soft smiles.

They’d fallen hard.

Something, Pepper once did, twice a day, with Tony.

It took them a while, to make it work, but it did.

Pepper saw herself, in Michelle, which was good, on some days, but heart-breaking on others.

Peter and Tony’s lives weren’t exactly normal or easy.

Pepper kept Michelle as close as possible because she understood the hardship of being hopelessly in love, with someone who laid down their lives, for the greater good, every other month.

They were on the same page.

Tony tiptoed over, holding two buckets of popcorn, “Here we go.”

Peter and Michelle sang, through a laugh, “Thank you.”

When the movies started playing, the audience went silent, but Pepper still caught the pair sharing little anecdotes, trying not to burst into hysterics.

An hour in, Michelle sat up, looking around.

Tony spoke, in a hushed tone, “What’s up?”

She turned, “I’m trying to work out where the toilets are.”

Tony pointed, “By the entrance, on your left.”

“Thanks, Stark,” She kissed Peter’s cheek and hopped up, “I’ll be back.”

Tony leaned over, whispering something in Peter’s ear, the kid’s cheeks turned a new shade of red.

He jokingly slapped Tony’s arm away, “Shut up.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, “Stop messing with him.”

Tony held out his hands, with a shrug, “May said I can.”

Pepper looked past him, to Peter, “Don’t worry, honey. He’s got no leg to stand on.” She chuckled, “I’ve got plenty of embarrassing date night stories.”

Tony sighed, head in his hands, “Pep…”

She winked, “I’ll tell you later.”

Peter laughed quietly, hanging his head.

A few minutes passed, and Pepper allowed herself to be drawn back into the movie.

She didn’t notice something was up until Tony’s tone switched.

“Kiddo, you okay?”

She spun her head, fast.

Peter was sat up straight, his eyes wide, and his leg mindlessly bouncing.

She raised her voice, “Sweetheart?”

Before Peter could answer, the piercing sound of a fire alarm filled the room, and the movie was stopped.

The lights came on, and an usher shouted, “Everybody make your way to the fire exits, as fast as you possibly can. Thank you.”

Everybody shot to their feet.

Tony tapped his watch, “Friday, report?”

“A fire has started, in the attic, and is spreading quickly.”

The usher yelled again, this time, more panicked, “Quickly, please.”

“MJ—” Peter shot up, looking around, “Can you see her?”

“The toilets are right next to the exit, buddy,” Tony reassured him, “She’s probably already outside.”

“I’m not sure—"

Somebody screamed, “Get out now!”

“That escalated—" Tony reached back, grabbing Pepper’s hand while gripping tight onto Peter’s shoulder, he pushed, making sure Peter didn’t freeze.

Pepper knew, for a fact, that Tony made contrasting promises.

It was an issue, with him.

He made one, to Peter, that basically meant that if it ever came down to it, Tony would have to save May, Ned, or Michelle, before Peter.

The other was one he made to Michelle, promising that he’d pull Peter, out of a fight he couldn’t win, even if Michelle’s life was on the line.

Tony could never win.

Peter kept shouting, over the chaos, “MJ!”

A crowd swarmed, at the exit.

Somehow, they were pushed to the front of it.

Peter held up his arms, screaming, at the top of his lungs, “Stop!” He waved his hands, signaling nearby people, “Stop moving!”

The urgency, in his voice, seemed to resonate with everyone.

A support beam, from the ceiling above them, collapsed, crashing to the floor.

Tony pulled on Peter’s shoulder, “Holy shit.”

The crowd moved again, leaping over it, as smoke started to envelop them.

A lady, in her forties, tripped, landing among the stampede.

“Hey,” Peter helped her onto her feet, “You okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” She rushed, into the bustle, that was moving outside.

Pepper lost sight of everything while moving from the building to the street.

The sounds of sirens were already echoing, in the distance.

She shouted, squeezing Tony’s hand, “Tony, you got Peter?”

“Yeah,” Tony breathed, “I’ve got him.”

The crowd began to separate, giving Pepper room to see.

Peter was leaning up, to look across the herd, “MJ?!” He yelled, “MJ?”

Nothing.

Peter turned, eyes filled with tears, “She’s not here.”

Tony’s face fell, “Pete-“

Peter rested a hand on his chest, “I know she’s not..."

“Kid—"

“I gotta—” He pulled his hand free, and before any more words were spoken, he sprinted back, into the burning building.

Tony shrieked, “Peter!” He spun to meet Pepper’s gaze, “What do—”

There was a deafening creak from inside.

Pepper’s lower lip trembled, “Oh, God—"

“Hey!”

Tony snapped his head back, a momentary look of relief, on his face, “Jones—”

Michelle charged, out from the side alley, “Hey, I’m—”

“MJ!” Pepper wrapped an arm around her, “We were so—” It dawned on her, she shot a look to Tony, “If you’re here, then Peter—”

Tony titled his head to his shoulder, a silent apology, as he let go of her hand and charged inside.

Michelle yelped, “Oh—”

Pepper held her tight, muttering under her breath, “Come on, come on—”

Another spine-chilling thud, came from inside, as the building fell apart.

“I—” Michelle cried, “He—”

Pepper whispered, “It’s okay…”

A figure emerged through the entrance.

It was Tony.

His face was covered, in patches of soot, and his hair, full of ash.

Dangled over his shoulder, was Peter.

Pepper’s stomach leaped into her throat, as she tightened her hand around Michelle’s hand.

She breathed a sigh of relief, when Tony smiled, with a nod.

Michelle pulled free, rushing over, “Peter!”

Tony lowered Peter onto his knees, rubbing circles against the teen’s back, “There you go.”

Peter coughed, “I need to find—MJ is—”

Michelle knelt, pressing a hand, to his cheek, “Right here, loser.”

He wheezed a laugh, “MJ—"

She leaned up, kissing his curls, “You’re an idiot.”

No, he’s your idiot.

He smiled, “You’d do it for me.”

“Yeah,” She tugged him into a hug, nestling her head, on his shoulder.

Tony moved over, locking an arm around Pepper, “Hey.”

She pulled him close, “Hey.”

Pepper knew it wasn’t normal, to be so accepting of these situations, but after fighting aliens, it was a walk in the park.

Michelle helped Peter to his feet.

Peter rubbed a hand, over his cheek, “That was fun.”

Michelle barked a laugh, pressing her head against his bicep, “Same time next week?”

Tony inhaled a cackle, “I’m thinking takeaway?”

Pepper nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

Tony motioned aside, “We should get going.” He took out his phone, “Everybody is probably freaking out already.”

Pepper looked up.

Peter was whispering in Michelle’s ear again, and they were giggling to themselves like nothing had changed.

Say what you want about young love, Pepper knew that Peter and Michelle were the real deal.

#whumptober2020 #no.14 #is something burning?#spideychelle #irondad #pepperony #pepper potts #michelle jones #peter parker #tony stark #petermj #peter x michelle #tony x pepper #liberty's writing

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blushie14 · 4 years

Text

Scaredy Cats [Skephalo]

So, this will be interesting, heh. The two are gonna watch a horror film in this one. I basically summarized/created the "horror film" in this story -w-. Heads up, there will be small mentions of gore during the "film." I swear after that it's not that bad. o-o (Or is it? I honestly don't know. Enjoy :P)

"...No."

"Aw, come on!" Zak whined.

"No! I'm not doing this! I refuse!"

The two of them have been bickering about this for more than a few minutes now. It all started when Darryl visited Zak for today. It was a long, but fun day.

They did a lot of random things together. They played a few games, including a bit of Minecraft. They challenged each other to do dumb things, even placing bets. They also decided to cook something together, which started off serious until... let's just say that a lot of food has been wasted today.

Time flew by, and the both of them didn't realize it was already dark out. Zak really enjoyed the other's company and didn't want him to leave. In fact, he asked him if he wanted to stay and have a movie night.

Now, Darryl definitely has no problem with watching a movie with Zak. He also had no problem with staying over (Zak kept insisting). The real problem was that Zak chose a horror film. A horror film!

"But Darryllllll!" Zak continued to protest.

"No buts!" Darryl started to whine. "You know how much I hate scary things!"

"Oh come on!" Zak put on a frown, starting to fake cry. "Do you not wanna watch a movie with me?"

Zak of course got him wrapped around his finger. Darryl stuttered and tried to reason with him. "I- No! Look I-I want to watch a movie with you! Can you please pick something else?"

"But.. I wanna watch this one.." Zak held the movie case with the creepy looking cover in front of him, looking at Darryl with pleading eyes. A few seconds of silence passed before Darryl gave in.

"Okay, we can watch this one." Zak perked up and started to prepare everything while Darryl was already feeling uncertain about this. "Do you promise that this movie isn't that horrifying?"

Zak raised an eyebrow as he started to microwave some popcorn. "Hmm, I don't know. I haven't watched it yet."

"You what?!" Darryl's eyes widened. His uncertainty was starting to turn into full on regret. He sat on the couch putting his hands on his face, and groaned.

"Oh my goodness, this is such a bad idea.." He heard low rumbling thunder outside and let out wince. "Did we have to watch this during a dark and stormy night?!"

Zak put the popcorn and some other snacks on the table. "Yes! This makes it so much better!"

"That doesn't make it better! This makes it even worse!"

"Darryl, it's not even raining that hard yet. Come on, I bet that the movie isn't going to be that scary! This is gonna be so much fun!" He smiled as he finished setting everything up, and sat next to Darryl. "Now do you wanna watch the movie or not?"

Darryl pouted, being a little indecisive. He wouldn't want to, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad watching it with Zak. It might be a little fun.. He sighed. "Fine... but we're keeping the lights on!"

Zak giggled at him. "You're no fun."

Darryl immediately got defensive. "Hey! I'm just saying that.. that much darkness isn't.. healthy."

"Okay, how about this? I turn off the living room lights, but I'll get one small lamp so that we won't be completely surrounded in darkness."

He paused a moment before sighing again. He nodded. "I guess that's good enough."

As it was lightly starting to drizzle outside, the two boys got themselves comfortable. There was a small desk lamp set up on the floor, dimly lighting up the living room. The movie started, opening with eerie yet depressing piano music.

The overall mood of it all started off as depressing. As the title sequence started, a single car was driving down a long road. While listing the cast and production members, a family is seen in the car. The family consists of a single father and two teenage daughters. None of them were smiling.

Zak glanced at Darryl for a moment and then completely turned to look at him and groaned. "Dude, seriously?! Stop trying to hide!"

Darryl had his face planted on a small pillow from the couch. He didn't budge as his muffled voice spoke up. "You didn't say I couldn't hide my face."

"The movie hasn't even-!" He stopped, facepalming in disbelief. "Don't hurt my brain! We've literally just started! When has something scary ever happened right at the start?!"

Darryl looked up, slightly embarrassed as his voice got a tad higher in response. "I- I don't know! You never know, okay?!" He squishes the pillow tighter, nervous laughter pouring out. "I don't like this at all Zak."

Zak lightly giggled and scooted closer to him. "Come on, we got this. We are not gonna be scared because of some stupid movie, okay? We are ducks, not chickens."

Darryl couldn't help but smile a tiny bit, becoming a little more relaxed. "You're the duck, you muffin top."

- .

It turns out the story started off a bit more melancholic as the two of them expected. The family moved into a new house because of their mother mysteriously disappearing. The father wasn't able to support the family and the house on his own.

Admittedly, Darryl did get drawn into the lore. The two sisters were comforting each other, obviously distraught over their situation and were nearly convinced that their mother was dead. They were looking for ways to either find her, or communicate with her.

Darryl was distracted when they took out many creepy looking books to help them, which gave Zak the opportunity to scare him. He slowly and quietly leaned into Darryl's ear, and blew.

"WHAT THE MUFFIN!?" Darryl screamed and spazzed out as the sudden gust of air sent tingles down his spine. He looked at Zak laughing his head off. Fear quickly turned into anger.

"YOU LITTLE-" He let out incoherent noises, lightly slapping Zak's arm a tiny bit. "DON'T. DO THAT!"

Zak took deep breaths as he calmed down from his laughter, still giggling a bit. "I'm sorry! I'm so so so sorry!"

Darryl pouted in order to keep a smile from creeping up to his face. He huffed and turned to look at the screen, crossing his arms. "No! That wasn't funny!"

Zak snickered as he hugged Darryl's arm. "It was kind of funny!" Darryl felt his cheeks heat up as a small smile eventually appeared on his face. He couldn't stay mad at him for long.

- . .

Things were now starting to get eerie. After the girls performed a ritual they found in one of their books in hopes to bring their mother back, they went to bed and woke up to find that their mother came back.

The two girls and their father were so happy that she came back, but the two boys who were watching felt that something wasn't right. She was overjoyed when she greeted them, but acted like she wasn't even gone for a couple months.

In fact, she was aggressively dismissive about it. It was unsettling to say the least. "All that matters is that I'm here now... right?" The father was really worried about this, but the two daughters figured that their mother's behavior was a side effect from the ritual they performed.

A little later in the movie, one of the sisters began to hear a strange voice. It was coming from her mother's door. Whatever that voice was, it was very deep, menacing, and didn't sound like it belonged to a person. Suspenseful music started to play as the girl slowly reached for the door knob as the voice became louder.

Darryl felt Zak shrink into his seat as both of them were practically preparing for a jump scare. Zak groaned. "You think that if anyone heard noises like that they would just run out of the house, right!?"

The door opened and the music stopped as the girl sees nothing. Zak stared intensely at the screen, and Darryl took the opportunity to spook him back. His hands quickly touched his shoulder and let out a small scream.

"jESUS Christ!" Zak jumped, and put a hand to his face before laughing a little. "You're not funny, Darryl!" Darryl only let out squeaky giggles in response, both of them looking back at the screen.

The timing couldn't get any better as a disfigured looking face resembling her mother popped up in front of her, letting out an ear piercing shriek.

Darryl let out a startled shriek, suddenly clinging onto to the smaller boy. Zak did the same, wrapping his arms around Darryl as he screamed as well. The girl sat up from her bed and screamed until she realized that it was a nightmare.

"OH MY GOD!" Zak shrieked out, letting go of Darryl. "WHAT WAS THAT? WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!" Darryl still had his arms around Zak, and wrapped him into a closer hug. He sat in silence for a moment until his quivering voice spoke up

"Oh my goodness. I'm just gonna... keep you like this for a while, o-okay?" Zak felt a warm blush appearing on his face and smiled, saying a soft "okay.." He hugged his scared muffin in return, both of them feeling a little calmer.

- . . .

Zak was on the edge of his seat while Darryl was wrapped like a burrito in blankets. They were near the end as everything was going horrifically wrong. The two sisters were desperately trying to escape the house as they figured out that their mother was a demon in disguise.

"YOU IDIOT DON'T JUST STAND THERE! RUN!" Zak shouted, as one of the girls started to cry in front of the twisted looking version of her mom. The movie switched into the girl's perspective. She was looking at the creature's hand, holding her father's decapitated head.

The tall demon screeched as she quickly scurried towards the girl, bones crunching with every movement she made. Her long neck twisted around as she gave a sinister grin and kept crawling. "HOLY SHIT!" Zak shrieked out as Darryl stares in horror, too terrified to call out on the other's language.

The movie switched into third person again as the demon's long and sharp fingers grabbed onto the girl's face, dangerously close to her eyes. Darryl quickly pulled the blankets over his face. He couldn't look.

He didn't dare look up as he heard the girl's bloodcurdling scream along with a sickening crunch, with a squelch. Zak on the other hand, was so shocked that couldn't take his eyes off the screen. He didn't say a word as he hugged Darryl, reminding them both that this wasn't real.

- . . . =

The movie ended with one of the girls escaping, and the credits rolled. "Oh my goodness.. it's finally over." Darryl let out a sigh of relief while Zak nervously laughed to lighten up the mood. "This movie wasn't ...that bad."

Darryl poked his head out of the covers and pouted. "What no! This movie was awful, I hated it. Never again!"

Zak giggled in response. "But it was a good horror movie!"

"Yes, and that's why I hated it! It was so scary.."

"It wasn't THAT scary."

"Yeah right! It was so scary! You were screaming so loud that your neighbors probably heard you!"

Before Zak could argue back, a bright flash of lightning along with a loud boom of roaring thunder happened. The hairs on the back of their neck immediately raised up, Darryl letting out a startled yelp as Zak practically could've jumped out of his own skin.

Suddenly the TV turned off. The small lamp that was dimly illuminating the room shut off. They both sat in complete darkness, coming to a chilling realization.

This was a blackout.

- . . . =)

Darryl was shaky. Normally being in the dark wouldn't be that much of big deal, but he was already starting to get paranoid. "Oh my goodness Zak I can't s-see anything.."

Zak tried to shake the feeling that he was secretly freaked out too. They both knew the fact that they just finished watching a horror film made this situation a hundred times worse.

"Okay, calm down. I'm going to look around the house so that we can find something like.. I don't know, a flashlight." Zak turned on his phone and cursed to himself when his phone was a little low on battery. "Here, I'll even let you hold this."

Darryl held Zak's phone and turned on its flashlight. The rain was coming down hard as more thunder was heard. They both stood up until they suddenly a loud crash was heard from the kitchen, freaking out the both of them.

Zak mumbled "oh my god" repeatedly while Darryl clung on to his arm. "What was that? Zak?! What was that?!"

"I don't know. I don't know. I'm actually getting sacred. I don't know."

Darryl's heart raced, trying to calm down. "It.. sounded like something heavy fell in the kitchen. Should we check it out?"

Zak was hesitant in checking the kitchen out, but he needed to go there anyways. What if there was something useful in the kitchen cabinets? "Okay, lets go."

Darryl slowly walked towards the kitchen with Zak following closely behind. He froze and swore his heart stopped when he saw something on the kitchen floor. "Zak, w-what is..?" He pointed at it, and Zak also felt his heart stop for a moment.

There was a huge mess on the floor. A smeared, watery, red mess on the floor. Before anyone could jump to any conclusions, Zak leaned closer to get a better look at it, and glad that he did.

"It's just the tomato sauce from earlier." He looked at the huge pot on the floor, stood up, and sighed. "How did that ended up falling? I thought I put it away"

Darryl shook his head and replied with urgency. "Nevermind that. Let's just search for a source of light, okay? Your phone is starting to die."

The two of them searched the drawers and cabinets. The most useful things they could find were batteries and a single lighter. Zak groaned as they couldn't find anything else. "I guess we also have to look in.. the basement."

Darryl gulped. "The basement?" Zak opened the door to the basement and froze. It's so dark, nobody can see a thing. "Why do basements always have to be so creepy?!" Zak thought to himself.

Zak pushed Darryl forward, mostly joking about it but also a little scared to go down there. "Hey! No! Zak don't you dare! I'm not going in!"

Zak laughed a little but also begged him to go down there. "You're the one with the flashlight! You go first!"

"No! I don't wanna go down there!" He handed Zak his phone back.

"Okay fine! I'll go down there.. by myself." Zak started to walk forward trying not to be intimidated by the darkness.

"Waitwaitwait." Darryl suddenly hugged Zak from behind. "Let me go with you."

Zak laughed and turned around. "What the heck?! Make up your mind!"

Darryl whined. "I'm sorry! I don't wanna be left alone!" He paused, looking away as his face turned pink. "I also didn't want to leave you down there too, you fatty."

Zak lightly giggled, already feeling less scared. "Alright, here." Zak grabbed Darryl's hand and smiled. "I'll lead the way, so that way I can protect you."

They both walked down the stairs as Darryl pouted. "What? No, I will protect you."

"No way, I'm the one who will do all the protecting."

"No you won't, I will!"

The stairs creaked as they made it to the basement. There were many boxed stacked against one another. A chill went down Darryl's spine. It was pretty cold in here. Zak already started to look through a bunch of boxes.

"I know that there has to be a flashlight somewhere. Let's keep looking."

Darryl opened up a box and searched through it, trying to adjust to the dark as Zak had the flashlight. He gasped as he found candles. "This could be useful!" He thought. He was about to tell Zak what he found, until he heard something.

He turned around, and felt his blood run cold. He saw something in the corner of his eye slipped through a few boxes. A figure that looked white...

Darryl frantically started to talk. "Zak we need to go! Now!" Zak looked up, alert and confused. "What? What's wrong?"

"I-I saw something! Something white that went in between the boxes! Something white!"

Zak gulped. He knows that Darryl wouldn't make that kind of joke, but he desperately wanted it to be a joke. "Darryl p-please no- don't do this. Not now."

Darryl's voice only became desperate. "I'm being serious Zak we need to leave!"

Just their luck, Zak's phone battery became too low and the flashlight turned off. They could hardly see each other. As if the situation couldn't get any creepier, they heard rustling somewhere in the pile of boxes. Were they even alone?

The rustling suddenly became louder. Whatever was making that sound was getting closer as boxes started to fall over.

"Y-You know what, you're right. Forget the lights, let's just go. GO!" They both ran for the stairs until Zak shrieked. A lot of boxes just fell on top of him, knocking him to the ground.

"Oh my gosh, Zak!?" Darryl lifted a few boxes away. "Are you okay?! Za-" He stopped talking when he saw him, surprised to say the least.

"ROCCO?!" Zak shouted in bewilderment. The two stared at the dog at a lost for words. Rocco was on top of Zak as he started to lick his face. He was slightly covered in... tomato sauce.

That was when Darryl started to put two and two together. Rocco knocked over the tomato sauce in the kitchen. Rocco was the white thing he saw in the corner of his eye. Rocco was the one that knocked over the boxes.

Rocco was behind everything this entire time.

Darryl broke out a grin, letting out a laugh of disbelief as his anxiousness faded away. "Zak, I think your dog has been the one scaring us."

Zak lightly grabbed his dog's head, taking a closer look at him. A look of realization hits and he laughed when he saw the mess on his dog. "You have got to be kidding me! What?!"

Darryl giggled and kneeled down to pet Rocco. "He's such a good boy yesh he is!" As Zak tried to stand up he felt something on the floor and gasped. "Dude! A flashlight!"

"Oh my goodness, really?" Darryl beamed. The battery compartment was open, but empty. Zak grabbed the batteries in his pocket and put them in his flashlight. It worked, brightening up most of the basement.

Darryl let out a little "yay!" and clapped a little. Zak looked like he could breathe at last. "Oh my god I can finally see!" They both stood up and looked at Rocco. Darryl smiled sheepishly. "Aww, maybe we should clean him up a little."

Zak brought his dog out of the basement while Darryl held the box of candles he found and the flashlight. While Zak was giving Rocco a bath, Darryl decided that he would clean up the tomato sauce in the kitchen. It took longer than expected, being that Zak had the flashlight while Darryl was slightly in the dark, but he didn't mind.

Darryl finished up and went to check on Zak. He just finished up cleaning Rocco and was trying to dry him up as much as he can with a towel. "Stupid blackout won't let me use the stupid hair dryer." Zak pouted.

Darryl lightly laughed at his childish muffin. "Here, lemme help." He grabbed another towel to help dry Rocco's fur. They made some progress as Rocco was almost completely dried up. Darryl got an idea.

"Ooh! Zak, what if we put Rocco in one of your hoodies?"

He gave a confused look and laughed. "What, why?"

"Because it would be adorable! He would be all snugly in a hoodie!"

Zak chuckled. He did like the idea of it. "Okay. I'll finish up here. I'm sure you can find a hoodie in my room, so take the flashlight."

Darryl was hesitant to take the flashlight. "You sure you'll be fine without any lights?"

"Yeah I'm fine! Besides, it was your idea. Plus, I got my doggo!" Zak smiled while hugging his dog.

Darryl smiled back at the two being cute. "Alright then."

Darryl went to Zak's room with the flashlight and searched in his closet. As he searched, he eventually found a Skeppy hoodie. "Perfect!" He went out to see that Zak and Rocco weren't in the bathroom anymore. "Zak? Where'd you go?"

"Over here!" Zak's voice was coming from the living room. He walked over there and took a moment to observe the atmosphere.

The room was dimly lit with small candles placed around. It was still raining outside, but the storm seemed to have calmed down. Rocco and Zak were on the couch with a lantern next to him. Darryl sat right next to him and smiled when Zak wrapped a blanket around him.

"Where did you get that lantern?" He handed the hoodie over to Zak.

"It was in the box of candles you found. I figured I could use it too." Zak managed to put the hoodie on Rocco. He held the lantern and giggled a bit as Rocco snuggled up against him.

Darryl felt his heart flutter at the scene, and smiled. These two were being adorable, but he couldn't help but admire the raven haired boy for a moment. The glow from the lantern made his smiling face look brighter and more radiant. He would take his picture right now if he could.

Other than his adorable looks though, he was taking a moment to adore him just being... him. Tonight was pretty terrifying, no doubt about it. And yes, sometimes he would be such a ragamuffin and scare him even more. But despite all that, Zak also managed to make him feel happy.. comfortable.. loved...

"Earth to Darryl? Why are you staring at me you weirdo?" Zak laughed. Darryl barely snapped out of it and murmured out loud.

"Zak, have I ever told you that you're the light of my life?"

Zak was caught off guard as he felt the heat rise up to his face. "Wh- How-" He started laughing at the flirtatious pun and looked away. "Since when have you learned to talk like that?!" He usually wasn't the one to be a smooth talker.

Darryl beamed when he realized he successfully managed to fluster him. He was proud, but also a little embarrassed that he managed to say that out loud. He decided to push a little further.

"Since I realized how much I loved you."

Zak brightly laughed a little more. "Okay, no." He smirked as he pulled Darryl closer to him. He cupped his face as their noses touched, instantly making the taller one's face go red.

Darryl went completely silent as he wrapped Zak into the blanket with him, hiding his flustered face into the other's hair. Zak faintly giggled, hugging him closer.

"Stick to being cute..."

[End]

Typing the creepy bits while listening to eerie music in the dark was intriguing :D ...

#skephalo #badboyhalo #skeppy #my writing #fanfiction #this took longer than expected #never really wrote horror before so I hope you like xD

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starjeno · 5 years

Text

bloom | n.jm | 1

genre: angst, fluff? | hanahaki!au pairing: student!jaemin x female!reader warnings: vomiting/choking, blood, lots of flashbacks summary: jaemin suffers from a special kind of unrequited love — one that makes him choke out flowers. a/n: my first fic! and it’s sad! i have never read the manga where hanahaki originated from, all the information i got was from google. all the flashbacks are in italics :o enjoy!

for the last five years, jaemin’s gone through hell.

it’s not hell in the typical sense — there are no demons that follow him and he isn’t caught up in some horrifying gore-filled scenario. nothing like that. jaemin considers his condition infinitely worse.

as children, he never batted an eye at you. though your families were close, you two never really clicked as your parents thought you would. trips together were dull and classes were even duller. to jaemin, you were just another blade of grass in a field. you didn’t really mind.

“jaem!” you call out, and he whips his head over to meet your eyes. he’s been waiting at this park bench for what seemed to be ages. your lips curve upward at his blank expression, “sorry! did you wait long?”

35 minutes.

“i just got here, no worries,” he smiles. he pauses suddenly as he feels his chest swell with a sharp pain, right above his heart, “i need to use the restroom. one moment.”

jaemin rushes off towards the nearest building, gripping his torso firmly. he feels an upward flow and makes it to an empty stall just in time to heave. light pink apple blossoms trickle out of his system. they bob on top of the water gently, and jaemin notes the darker tinge at the base of the petals.

“shit.” it’s the only thing he can say right now. his hands run messily through his bangs while he thinks about his second year of high school, the athletic festival, right before the 100 meter sprint. jaemin thinks of it as the first time he threw up petals.

“i’m going to win that race.”

jaemin freezes. he happened to walk past the water fountains when your harsh whispers filled the quiet air. he hears another giggle from one of your friends.

“what if he was lying?”

“lying?!” you exclaim, and jaemin has to stifle a laugh at your incredulous tone while you continued, “he declared in class that he would go on a date with whichever girl won the 100 meters.”

“it was just to get his fan club’s hopes up.” jaemin nods at your friend’s sentiments, but you aren’t deterred.

“well, as part of his fan club, my hopes are up!”

jaemin continues walking after that. he doesn’t really care.

jaemin smiles a bit at the memory, but then remembers you’re still waiting for him. he flushes the petals down and laughs bitterly as he washes his face. for the rest of the world, apple blossoms represent good health and eternal love. for jaemin, they’re the opposite.

he’s happy for now, though. watching you run up to him and ask if he’s okay makes his heart swell with love. you grab jaemin’s hand and lead the way down various streets. a smile spreads on his face without him realizing when he recognizes the route to the animal shelter — you had remembered when he talked about wanting a dog since forever. when you arrive in front of the building, you turn and smile, “surprise! i know you want a dog really badly so maybe you can spread that love to some of the pups in here!”

jaemin wraps you in a warm hug, feeling his chest heat up. he bit his lip, not knowing whether it’s because you care about him so much or the petals beginning to form in his throat again.

jaemin trudges over to the track, where you stood stretching. a hand strikes him on his shoulder, and he twists his head to see jeno grinning happily. jaemin’s best friend for the last six years had dragged him here to watch the girls in their grade “for educational purposes”. jaemin agreed.

“isn’t that ____? she’s cute,” jeno remarks, nudging jaemin. he was already watching you bend side to side, loosening your arms. jaemin nods absentmindedly, thinking back to your resolution to win.

“you know, mark said that he would date whoever won this race?” jaemin motions to the track below and jeno snorts, “he’s such a dick! he thrives off these girls flailing over him.”

jaemin hums in agreement. by now, everyone had lined up at the starting line. he watches you now, eyes curious with how fast you’ll run. at the pop of the toy gun, cheering ensues from the bleachers. jeno laughs with glee, but jaemin stays silent. the amount of effort you sprinted with made his cheeks flush with anticipation. he doesn’t understand why you would put so much effort in for someone you had a silly crush on.

would you ever do this for him?

jaemin’s face turned a dark shade of red as you zoomed past the finish line, collapsing onto your knees. jeno shrieks with joy at your victory before glancing over at jaemin, who’s heaving and furrowing his eyebrows.

“jaemin?” he asks cautiously, and jaemin turns to jeno with fear creeping up the protruding veins of his neck. he opens his mouth to respond, but instead of words, a petal falls out. jeno’s mouth drops open, “you ate a fucking flower? when?”

jaemin wipes his lips with wide eyes and looks at the moist baby pink crescent in his lap. an apple blossom, like the trees that grew around his home.

jaemin rubs the puppy’s ears fondly, watching its fur fall back into place. the room is filled with barks and laughter and jaemin believes he could not feel any more bliss than this. his smile slowly fades when he knows you and him could not be like this forever.

“jaemin!” you laugh, holding up the paw of a small bichon frise, “we should totally get a puppy! we could take turns caring for it or — oh! maybe we can even move in together!”

jaemin’s face whips up in shock, his bangs landing messily, “what?”

“oh! it was just a thought, you know?” you bite your lip, realizing how crazy that must’ve sounded, “since we study at neighboring colleges and you have a part-time job …”

jaemin looks away, blushing and smiling. he loves you, especially when you plan out a future with him in it. his chest pierces with a flash of pain and he groans, eyebrows curling in alarm.

you glance over, freezing up when he clutches the curve of his neck, “jaem? what’s wrong?”

he gives a weak smile, “i think i ate something bad.”

before you could reach out to him, jaemin flees and runs over to the bathroom. he curls over a toilet again, hurling petal after petal. the water was covered by a pink layer now, and jaemin’s alarmed. it’s more than last time and though he was told the quantity would increase, he never knew the color would deepen and the taste would be more metallic. it was almost like —

“ — blood?”

“hanahaki disease.”

“what?” jaemin says in confusion. jeno repeats again, this time with emphasis, “ha-na-ha-ki. i did some research.”

“research?” jeno nods, “you’ve been spitting petals out all week! it’s like every time we eat lunch, you spit out a flower!”

jaemin grumbles, “it’s only 1 or 2 petals.”

“it’s only not normal,” jeno retorts. he turns over his laptop and opens a basic google search, “it’s a disease that’s really rare. almost unheard of. you cough up flower petals when you have unrequited love.”

jaemin chokes at the last word, “love? that’s a strong word.” there was no way he was in love with you yet, there hadn’t even been a proper conversation between you two.

“yeah, who in the world do you love so much that it makes you grow a whole garden in your lung?” jeno asks sarcastically.

jaemin stays silent.

“but, this doesn’t look too good jaem. you’ll die if they can’t reciprocate your feelings. you’ll keep throwing up more and more flowers until it suffocates you,” jeno says in concern. he looks up at jaemin, fearful, “do your parents know? how long has this been happening?”

“they don’t, only you. you saw the first one.”

“good god, jaemin. y-you need to see a doctor! tell your parents! something!” jeno runs his hand through his hair, standing up. his eyes are pinker than usual and jaemin exhales shakily. he didn’t want to die.

jaemin had sighed a thousand times today. his head hurt, and while puppies could seemingly cure everything, they couldn’t ease his pain. you gaze at jaemin when he walks back into the room, “are you sure you’re okay?”

he doesn’t want to end this time with you early, but he felt like jeno needed an update, especially since neither of you knew that actual blood would be involved, “i don’t feel that great, sorry.”

“don’t be sorry! let me walk you to your car,” you hurridly plead, to which jaemin nods gratefully. the walk is silent with the exception of pointing out a cloud that looked funny or some strange person on the sidewalk. when he slides into his car seat, you press your lips to his cheek through the window, whispering a small goodbye and jogging off.

jaemin rests his head on the wheel once you disappear, and he feels something hot and wet on his cheek.

he knows his version of hell is the worst.

next | masterlist

#bloom #starjeno #jaemin #na jaemin #nct dream jaemin #jaemin ff #jaemin angst #nct angst #nct dream angst #angst #nct dream #nct #hanahaki #hanahaki au #hanahaki jaemin

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letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked · 6 years

Text

Words On My Skin (Part 17)

Bucky Barnes x Reader Soulmate AU

A/N: IF I STARE AT THIS DOCUMENT ANY MORE, I’M GUNNA GO EVEN MORE BLIND… SO HERE YOU GO!!! Stuff is gunna start going wrong, now! *insert evil laughter* Enjoy, my pretties.

Warnings: Swears… Idk.

Main Masterlist // WOMS Masterlist

Bucky and Sam? Together?

For interviews?

Oh god. Poor Bucky.

You stood off on the sidelines, tablet in hand, watching as the host talked into the camera, doing the intro while the crowd watched. You could feel Bucky’s anxiety, which was beginning to make your anxiety increase, as well. Large crowds and somebody asking a bunch of personal questions – aside from you – was something that Bucky would rather cut off his own toe than partake in.

Please don’t let this go badly. For the love of fuck. Please let this go smoothly. He didn’t even have Steve for a buffer, until later.

It was totally rational to be worried, since he’d gotten his hair significantly chopped and was pissed about it.

You thought he looked like a GQ model, practically ready to jump him the second that you saw his new haircut, but he’d liked his longer hair. He didn’t want to look like Bucky Barnes from the forties, like everybody remembered him in the history books. He wanted to be his own, new Bucky Barnes.

It was easy to see where he was coming from, since the general population thought of him as either Sargent Barnes from the forties, or The Winter Soldier.

…but, you had to admit, he looked fine as hell.

Thankfully, he’d calmed down a bit after you told him that you thought it was attractive. It’s just hair, it’ll grow back. That’s what you told him, anyways. You loved his hair, no matter what length it was.

“Bucky. Stop fidgeting.” You chastised quietly, knowing he could hear you with his super soldier hearing. You saw him stiffen for a moment, nostrils flaring before his chest rose and fell as he took deep breaths. To anyone else, it would look like normal breathing, but you knew better. You could feel him attempting to calm himself down. “Good. Relax.”

You watched his eyes flick over towards you for a moment, as he sent you a small smile, before glancing back at the flashy host, who was introducing him and Sam to the audience.

Though there were a lot of men and women in the crowd, the women’s piercing shrieks were overpowering. Sam waved enthusiastically, smug smile on his face as he watched the crowd gush over the two Avengers sitting on the stage.

Bucky, on the other hand, gave nothing but a small lift of his lips.

The host barely gave them much time to get settled, before launching into a string of questions about what happened with the Accords. Secretary Ross had briefed everyone on how to answer the political questions during the talk shows, during the meeting a few days prior, which were little snippets of information to reveal without actually giving anything away – as most politicians did.

The Sokovia Accords had been one of the most talked-about topics in politics since HYDRA had come back into the picture and Natasha had leaked a shit load of encrypted files on the internet. The general public was pretty split up in their views about the accords where the Avengers were concerned, just as the team had been when they had their fight.

You’d seen the news reels, but you didn’t get the full story about the fight and arrests until you’d befriended the team – deemed worthy of the information.

Enough documents had been read while doing paperwork – and listening to the news – that you understood the Sokovia Accords meant that any enhanced individuals were registered on a list, their fingerprints and DNA samples were stored, and those with dangerous enhancements were to be tracked with a bracelet. Those who were on the registration were not allowed to take any sort of action outside of their country.

Anyone who didn’t sign was forced into retirement – to put it lightly.

There was, also, a 100% chance that they’d be arrested, since they were basically not allowed to use their powers for any reason – otherwise, they’d probably be deemed a ‘threat’ to society and immediately get detained without trial.

Okay, that was exaggerating the actual terms a bit, but after witnessing the way that the governments were treating enhanced people… You knew that the enhanced people were not safe. Putting a large group of individuals – categorizing them – was history repeating itself in the worst way. That made it too easy for somebody with an agenda to attempt a genocide. It was a great idea, to have rules, but there were too many variables that threatened the safety of those who would be forced into signing.

Another reason the team was split on it, too.

The team was lucky as hell that the governments were willing to negotiate a little with them, and reconsider certain terms, after all the shit they pulled with the fighting and breaking into the raft.

Though, now it was a never ending battle of meetings, negotiations, arguments, and all that other political bullshit that went into making the rules.

You could tell that Bucky was growing uncomfortable, considering what happened during the fight in Germany had a lot to do with that Zemo guy framing him for the bombing, but Sam – thank god he was so intuitive – turned the conversation around to himself so they’d stop talking about Bucky and HYDRA.

Ever thankful for commercial breaks, you were able to go out onto the stage – under the guise of handing Sam and Bucky their coffee orders – to calm your soulmate down a little bit.

“You’re doing great, okay?” You smiled, in an attempt to get his goddamn blood pressure to lower before he gave both of you a heart attack. You threaded your fingers together, your warm ones grasping his gloved ones. “You’ve done this before, and everything was fine.”

“Don’t say that, you’re going to jinx it.” His lips – which had been set into a straight line, before – lifted into a large grin, as his calloused fingers softly brushed against the skin of your tattoo. The rush of warmth that surged through the bond chase away all feelings of anxiety in your chest, his and yours, and the skin that his fingertips traced tingled in their path. “Anyways, I have you this time. Handshake your fear, right?”

“God, you two are disgustingly sappy.” Sam groaned, leaning back on the couch and sipping his coffee with an eyeroll. He grunted as Bucky’s hand – which had been touching your tattoo – whopped him on the chest, and his face turned up to a grimace. “Ow. Rude.”

A laugh bubbled up, as you carefully untangled your fingers with his and moved towards the side stage – where Steve was standing and watching. “Hopefully they’ll start talking about something other than politics, now.”

He snorted, crossing his arms in front of his chest and watching as they started back in with the show. “I hope so. He looked like he was gunna’ bolt, earlier.”

“He’s much calmer, now.” You whispered in response, watching the host start joking around about Sam’s wings and free sky diving. “I think it’s going to be fine.”

“I’ll never get used to how weird that is… that you can feel his emotions.” Steve murmured quietly, so only you could hear.

“Honestly? It’s weird for me, too.” You watched as Sam and Bucky started laughing, joking about the time that Bucky pushed Sam off the roof of a skyscraper, so he didn’t get shot. “I’ll never get used to it, but I’d miss it if it was gone.”

His blue eyes flicked in your direction, bright with humor, “He said the same thing.”

“-you’re starting to sound like Y/n.” You heard Bucky groan, as you listened back in to the interview. “She’s constantly complaining about it.”

Excuse him! Complaining about what?!

“It’s annoying!” Sam laughed, shaking his head and turning his body towards the host from his spot on the couch. “He’s constantly doing it! Scares the crap out of me! Every time! He only does it to Steve, Y/n, and I. Last time, I nearly punched him in the face!”

You burst out laughing, placing your hand over your mouth to muffle the sound in the quiet studio. They were talking about how Bucky thought it was funny to sneak up on you and whisper ‘boo’ right in your ear. You jumped every single time, and the last time you had accidentally gashed open your knuckles by punching him in the face. Bucky heard you, though, glancing your way with a large grin lighting up his face and crinkling his eyes – the way they did when he was truly enjoying himself.

“Y/n did punch me in the face, last time.” He chuckled, watching you try and stifle your laughs and gaining the attention of the host – who was looking right at you. “She nearly broke her hand on my jaw. I heard her heading toward the kitchen, so I stood off to the side and she didn’t notice me. When I stepped out in front of her, she screamed and immediately punched me in the jaw.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, smug. After the little fucker did that, you’d bought him a little bell, as a joke, which was sitting on his dresser. He was pretty impressed with your punch… and took all the credit for teaching you how to hit – not even mad that you’d just socked him in the jaw.

100% deserved it.

“From the look on her face, I’d say that she isn’t sorry for that punch.” The host chortled, spinning his chair in your direction and gesturing towards you. “She looks pretty pleased with herself.”

“She is.” He snorted, shaking his head and turning back to the host. “She’s got her smug-face on.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing down at your tablet and checking the status on Natasha and Wanda’s Uber to the studio. They weren’t going to be on until later, but they were due for hair and makeup soon. Steve had already done through the process, and Tony was in hair and makeup while Bucky and Sam were on the air.

“Seems like you two are going strong, then?” The host probed, crossing his legs and leaning against the desk that his chair was placed behind. When Bucky nodded, beginning to look a slightly embarrassed, he continued, “You’re the first Avenger to be in a public relationship with their soulmate. Is it safe to assume that you’re the only Avenger with a soulmate?”

Not the only one, no.

“I have a soulmate.” Sam piped up, making the host’s eyebrows rise in surprise. You watched as the crowd reacted in surprise, as well. Usually the Avengers’ personal lives weren’t so public – aside from a few social media posts, here and there – so the news was pretty big. “I just haven’t met them, yet.”

“Interesting.” The host leaned forward, fascinated by the new information. “Are you willing to tell us anything about it?”

Sam laughed in response, avoiding giving any more information than that. “They’re in for a real treat when they meet me.”

“More like a thorn in their side.” Bucky snorted, picking up on Sam’s lack of information. “Maybe you’ll quit annoying me, once you find them.”

“Shut up, man.” He rolled his eyes, hitting Bucky in the chest with the back of his hand. “You met Y/n, and you still annoy me.”

Luckily the topic changed fairly quickly to Bucky’s arm, and you were genuinely surprised that Bucky was willing to talk about it. He was usually pretty reserved when it came to his arm, and you were one of the only people allowed to touch it, without him freaking out – aside from children, of course.

He did allow children to touch it sometimes, IF he was in a good mood when they asked.

He even took off his glove to show the host the plates, though – as you thought – he wouldn’t let anyone touch the metal.

When Natasha and Wanda arrived, you’d been forced to step away for a minute to make a phone call and find one of the assistants for hair and makeup.

You were in for a real treat when you came back only minutes later. Sam had just finished telling a story about how he showed Steve different types of music – starting with Marvin Gaye – a few years back, and how Steve was sharing his newfound knowledge with Bucky… who’s taste was literally all over the damn board. He liked almost everything.

“Do you even have a favorite song?” Sam laughed, teeth gleaming against the bright lighting on the stage and turning his body towards your soulmate – who was rolling his eyes at him. “Because I’ve seen your playlist, man. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. It’s all random.”

“I have a favorite song, you ass.” He snorted, cheeks reddening in a blush. You could feel his embarrassment growing through the bond, heating up your own cheeks. Oh, god. The worst form of secondhand embarrassment is when you can literally feel the other person’s embarrassment. What the heck was he so embarrassed about? “It’s not something you guys showed me, though… I, um, actually heard Y/n singing it in her office.”

What? You felt your eyebrows pull together, head tilting slightly to the side, as he avoided glancing in your direction.

“She… kind of sings… when no one is around to listen.” He shrugged, sliding down in his chair slightly and tapping his ear. “I have better hearing than the average person, though, due to… all the experiments… Um… yeah.”

“Well,” The host urged, leaning forward on his chair and giving Bucky his undivided attention. “Tell us the story, about the song.”

“A few weeks ago, she was singing this song in her office,” He cleared his throat, surely starting to feel your embarrassment through the bond, “and it was the first time that I’d ever heard her. She told me she sings in the car, but she never does when I’m with her… She didn’t realize, but I was standing outside her office – like some creep – just listening to her.”

Oh, god, you hated your singing voice. This was seriously so embarrassing. You were mediocre, at best, which was why you’d never sung in front of him before. He was a better singer than you were.

“She has the voice of an angel, honestly.” He continued, starting to pick at the plates on his vibranium thumb, “I could hear her voice, clear as day, through the door. She was singing that Elvis song, but it was a cover of the song. It took me ages to find it on Google.”

He heard that?! You’d just gotten over a damn cold, when you were singing that song! You’d heard the song on a commercial, and it got stuck in your head!

“Which Elvis song?” Sam asked, glancing over at you with a snort – watching you shift to hide behind Steve, who was smirking at you, too. “Look at her! She’s trying to hide!”

“Leave her alone.” Bucky grimaced, rolling his eyes at his friend. He almost looked as embarrassed as you, admitting to creeping on you and standing behind your door. Thank god your bedroom was soundproof. That would be horrifying. “It was ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’.” His face scrunched up in that adorable little ‘think’ face that he did, when he was trying to remember something – where he chewed his lip slightly, furrowing his eyebrows so there was that one little line in the middle, and staring at his metal fingers in thought. “I remembered the song, kind of. I remembered hearing Elvis on the radio in… the early sixties? I think?”

He looked back up at the host, running his right hand through his shortened hair, “Either 1962 or 1963… I don’t really remember. My memories still come back in pieces. Some things are easier to remember than others, but I feel like I’m in a constant state of Déjà vu.”

“What do you do to help deal with the memories?”

“Y/n and Steve are the ones who help me, the most.” His face lightened up, all traces of embarrassment or confusion erased, replaced with a grateful smile and relaxed posture. “The whole team is a big support system, but Steve and Y/n… Steve helps me remember the good things about my past, and Y/n helps me deal with the bad things I remember. I don’t really know what I would do without either of them.”

Steve’s posture sagged next to you, as well as the sound of a relieved sigh cutting through the silence of your spots on the side of the stage. You glanced up at him, watching a small smile form on the man’s face, eyes shining with the love of a sibling – rather than just a best friend. The love of a brother who had gone to the ends of the earth to find and protect him, after losing him decades prior.

Though… It wasn’t decades for Steve. He was frozen for most of those decades. The ‘death’ of Bucky, the best friend he’d ever had, was still fresh for him. He’d gone into the ice with a dead best friend, on the radio with his best girl… only to wake up to his girl as an elderly woman, and his best friend a brainwashed assassin.

God, Steve and Bucky broke your fucking heart.

You reached up, laying your hand on Steve’s shoulder in support, feeling your eyes mist up. You could never thank him enough for doing everything in his power to aid Bucky after his time with HYDRA. You both knew a lot of it had to do with Bucky’s strong will, but Steve’s support made a difference. You could feel it. You could feel the unconditional love that your soulmate had for his brother.

He brought his hand up, laying it on yours for a moment and squeezing – as if accepting your thanks, and thanking you in return, before turning to walk away.

“-and what do you say we bring her out, after commercial?”

HUH???

You turned from watching Steve walk away, eyes widening in terror. Did he want you to come out there? On stage? In front of everyone? On live television?

Suddenly, you were swarmed by a herd of assistants, someone taking your tablet and promising to hold onto it until you were off the stage, someone putting some necklace-looking microphone around your neck, someone dabbing concealer on your black eye, and someone straightening up your clothes. It took all the emotional control that you could muster to stay calm and go with the flow.

You’d been in the public eye, before.

Yeah, but not on live television.

Just… stay calm.

As fast as the swarm came, they left, leaving you to slowly walk over to Bucky and Sam – gulping down any fear you felt, and trying to keep a neutral face.

They switched the couch to the one they were going to use when Steve came on, later, but you scooted close to Bucky, anyways, grabbing his hand and trying to ignore the giant studio audience.

“Calm down, before you give me a secondhand anxiety attack.” Bucky murmured in your ear, rubbing his thumb across the top of your hand, and giving you a slight nudge. “Everything’s going to be fine. Handshake your fear, right?”

“I definitely jinxed it, earlier.” You grumbled, watching Bucky’s thumb move back and forth and focusing on calming down – channeling your soulmate, and trying to keep a neutral face. “This is so much easier from the sidelines.”

“Hey, you’re going to be fine.” Sam patted your arm, sending you a toothy grin. “If Barnes can do it, you can do it a million times better.”

“And we’re back!” The host announced after a little countdown, floppy hair falling into his face slightly as he exaggerated his excitement. He turned to your little trio, zoning right in on you. “We’ve got a new face on the couch, tonight! Y/n L/n! Assistant to the Avengers, and soulmate to Bucky Barnes.”

You smiled, tightening your hand in Bucky’s but giving a small wave with your free hand in greeting.

“So, what’s it like to work for ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’?” The host asked, jubilant voice matching his puppy-dog excitement. “It’s gotta’ be one of the most interesting jobs you’ve had, right?”

“Well, it keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure.” You answered, clearing your throat and throwing out your fake, interview smile – usually reserved for job interviews or annoying meetings. “On the plus, I think I’ve done my job well enough that they would suffer without me.”

“What would Tony do without your vocabulary words?” Sam joked, nudging you before turning to the crowd – giving you a chance to ease up. “Tony’s been trying to ‘expand his vocabulary’. He’s constantly doing crossword puzzles and complaining to Y/n when he can’t figure one out. She’s a crossword-queen!”

“Really?” The host grinned, shuffling his notes around behind the little name plaque that was placed strategically in front of him. “What was today’s word? We’ll quiz him, later.”

“Arctophile.” A giggle escaped as you remembered his humorous reaction to the word. “It means a person who is very fond of teddy bears.”

“Teddy bears?” He howled with laughter, getting the crowd going and obnoxiously slamming his hand on his desk. “That must be an interesting crossword.”

“There’s usually longer or more complex words.” You shrugged, finally feeling comfortable – like you were having a conversation versus an interview on live television. Though, more like that awkward conversation you have with an uncle that you haven’t seen in years, while celebrating a holiday. “I also do a lot of paperwork, make a bunch of coffee, fetch meals, schedule appointments, more paperwork, and other basic assistant stuff. FRIDAY does a lot of my work for me, though, which is nice. An assistant to the assistant.”

“FRIDAY is Mr. Stark’s AI, correct?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty cool… until your standing in a quiet elevator by yourself, and a female voice just starts speaking out loud.” You glanced at Bucky, throwing him a playful glare. “It’s almost as terrifying as somebody sneaking up on me and scaring me, all the time.”

“Hey, you clocked me pretty good last time.” Bucky laughed, eyes crinkling and white teeth gleaming. “It was a good hit.”

“I think it hurt me, more than it hurt you.” You grumbled, rolling your eyes at him and turning to Sam. “Next time, Sam, actually punch him.”

“While we’re on the topic…” The host cut in, almost looking guilty as he glanced at one of the cards on the table – sending a small pang of worry to your gut. On the topic of violence? What could… Oh, no. Your black eye. “I wanted to bring up some… allegations… that have come to our attention.”

“Allegations?” Bucky asked, tensing up and glancing around the room – analyzing the surroundings. “What allegations?”

“There… may have been some allegations of abuse.”

Oh, no…

Part 18

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donnerpartyofone · 5 years

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In 2018, with the help of some concerned and informed people in my life, I discovered that I’m probably pretty autistic. The driving factors were not what you might expect (I didn’t, anyway)--chiefly, a kind of persistent clumsiness, disorientation, organizational difficulty, trouble learning certain practical tasks--but it helped explain a lot of things about me that one might otherwise consider “quirks”. I had always taken for granted, for instance, that I have a lot of trouble recognizing faces, including ubiquitously famous actors, or members of my own family. I have also been accused from time to time of taking things “too literally” (to which I usually reply something like, “But this is literally what’s going on in reality, how does literalness make it dismissible?” I really don’t get it). Also, most typically, I have never liked being touched. “You’re just like Dave Letterman!” my dad chortles, an interpretation I don’t mind. I think it might also be pretty autistic of me to be so averse to family. I don’t have the slightest inclination toward maternity, which one could guess from the previous passages, but it’s more than neurosis. I know intellectually that people care about their families; the same way most people burst with pleasure at the sight of a baby, any baby, they also respond automatically to the very idea of blood relatives. As a kid, I was always baffled by the obsession other kids seemed to have with their cousins, or how in love they could be with their grandparents. In my world, you obsess over people to whom you have something to say; people who share your taste in art, your politics, your philosophies, your passions and phobias. I don’t understand relationships that are based on blood alone, on being trapped in the same place and time by virtue of pure circumstances.

Today, as my friends are all having babies one after another, I find myself strangely fascinated by them. Some of these people have struggled all their lives to find a sense of belonging or purpose, and having children has given them a sense of meaning beyond anything they previously hoped for. As someone who continuously struggles to find a sense of purpose, which I base exclusively on my intellectual and artistic pursuits, I’m amazed by the idea that I could potentially put all my existential confusion behind me if I were willing or able to become a mother. I can estimate how profound it must feel to create life, and then to become responsible for turning that life into something good. But, I remain unable to attach meaning to the idea of something being “a part of me” on a purely biological basis. I have insurmountable trouble thinking of my biological predecessors as being “where I come from” on the identity level. I can’t imagine being so sentimental about being an organism in a colony of like-organisms, not the way I am about people who have brought me experience and taught me to think.

So, even if I were without the mother-related trauma heretofore detailed, I still think there is something about who I am as a person, that would have made me recoil from my grandmother. My mother’s mother was the platonic ideal grandmother, a plump, pleasant old lady with a syrupy southern drawl who seemed to have stepped out of a cookie commercial. Excessively generous with money, food and affection, she presented as a person any family would welcome in their household. However, I always detected something oppressive about her. I was raised to be guiltily dutiful toward her, so as a child, I thought my suspicion and repulsion was just a problem with me. It must make me an asshole, that I don’t want her to hug me with her entire body for such a long time that I can’t figure out what’s going on anymore and I’m suffocating from the heat. I must be a dick, that I don’t want someone chasing me around, staring at me, posing me and jostling me like a baby, which I haven’t been for years. Maybe it was my problem, that I didn’t want her to burst into the bathroom and shriek with glee at the sight of me on the toilet trying to take a single solitary piss. Maybe I was just being a jerky teenager when I froze in horror while my grandmother sat next to me at the dinner table, gazing smolderingly into my eyes like a lover and caressing my hair non-verbally when I was perfectly capable of having a respectful adult conversation.

As I grew up a little more, I began to pick up on the fact that she drove both of my parents nuts. All of this motherly pageantry was incredibly manipulative, and really a way of controlling people. The creepy coddling I received as her granddaughter was really something she did to everyone. She was bright, incredibly shrewd really, a person whose hard work and frugality produced a self-made millionaire, though this didn’t reflect in her humble home. She was a dyed in the wool republican who was capable of watching the Daily Show with appropriate delight. Actually, she had a weird sadistic sense of humor; I always thought she got a little too much joy out of seeing little boys get smacked in the nuts by speeding baseballs on America’s Funniest Home Videos. That probably bothered me because of how she unforgettably screamed with laughter at my flinching when she took me to get my ears pierced. Everything indicated that, regardless of her age and conservatism, she wasn’t a vulnerable, senile old biddy, but a keenly intelligent woman very much in touch with the real world. This made it endlessly disturbing to me that she so insisted that everyone around her act like a little baby, adults and children alike, so she could rule us all as the ultimate mommy. Her aversion to grownup conversations and self-reliance was a way of forcing everyone into a Rockwellian time capsule in which everything was predictable and hygienic, in which mother knows best. Literally any admission of imperfection could trigger an outburst that would enslave everyone to the process of cheering her up. I recently heard a story about a Christmas visit during which she and her husband were lavishing attention on my brother as if I wasn’t even there. Concerned that I might be lonely, my father suggested that they include me in this play session. At this recommendation, my grandmother burst into hysterical tears, and my parents had to spend the rest of the night apologizing for accusing her of being neglectful.

Eventually, I learned little by little that she was more than just a prototypically clingy old lady with a keen talent for doling out guilt. It was a little weirder than that, and ultimately, a lot darker. First, there were the things I had heard about my mother’s life as her daughter. I remember a story my mother told about a birthday party that her mother threw for her when she was little, sometime in grade school I think. Her mother said that she had hired a gypsy woman to tell everyone’s fortunes, which was extremely exciting. A little carnival tent was set up in the back yard, and all the kids lined up to hear about their futures. When my mother’s turn came up, she walked in, only to find her mother in there in a turban talking with a corny accent, as if her own child wouldn’t know who she was--let alone any of her friends. My mother told this story to explain how embarrassing her mother was, but what I picked up from this was less a funny story about how parents traditionally humiliate their kids, and more like evidence that my grandmother’s identity is completely rooted in her position as an apex matriarch, well beyond anyone else’s intelligence or control.

The way she infantilized me was not an ordinary byproduct of having a grandchild, but something she did to everyone in her life, historically, up to and including my adult parents. She certainly continued to do it to me as an adult, and she insisted on a childish sort of positivity that I could barely muster. I thought, if she wants us to have a relationship, I should talk about my life, which sometimes includes complaints--or simply categorizing things as just-ok, or business as usual. Of course, she found this extremely irritating for some reason, and would pressure me to change my story with declarations like “YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE SO MISERABLE!” One Christmas when I was really in a bind, I called to thank her for the holiday check she had sent me, saying that it gave me much-needed help in making my rent at that time. “Oh...well, I thought you would do something nice with it,” she said in a strange tone that let me know she was sort of angry with me for some reason. I had to sort of bend the truth into a story about some special treat I supposedly got myself in order to get her to cut it out.

A better example of what was really going on with her also had to do with Christmas. You know Christmas: If you’re a little kid, you get up at about four in the morning, you beeline for the tree and try to peak into the openings in the wrapping paper, you wake up your parents either by force or by the shockwaves coming off of your person, you all open presents together in a sleep-deprived daze, and you’re basically all back in bed by 10am. Well, this might happen with my mother, but once my grandmother was awake, a ritual began. First, she would get out her camera, and follow my mother back into the bedroom. There, my mother would get back into bed, and pretend to be asleep. Then my grandmother would take a picture of my mother “waking up.” Then, another picture of her theatrically delighted expression when she “remembers” that it’s Christmas. Then a picture of my mother entering the living room and exploding with joy when she sees the tree for “the first time”. Then pictures of the presents being opened, then etc...this whole completely artificial passion play of my grandmother’s little family having the perfect Christmas.

Much, much later, I would find out what all this debasement was probably really about. It had to do with my great aunt. I knew that this woman, who I have rarely ever met in my life, and her daughter both suffer from brutalizing clinical depression. The daughter actually has an electronic device in her brain that acts like a pacemaker for depressive episodes. I had never even heard of something like that before, but it made perfect sense to me that this person and I would be in the same gene pool. Naturally, though, my grandmother would not have found such a dour defect so sympathetic. My grandmother and her sister seemed to have some kind of amorphous feud going on. My grandmother complained relentlessly that her sister refused to spend enough time with her, and I usually thought about how unfair she was being to a woman who has had cancer multiple times, whose energy is leached away by depression, and whose daughter is also routinely sick and almost uncontrollably suicidal. Apparently there was a history of slights and passive aggressions between the two women, though none of it topped the thing I ultimately learned about their family. At some point in their lives, my long suffering great aunt admitted to her sister that she had been raped by their father. I never knew the man, but he was supposed to have been sort of a son of a bitch, and there were other reasons that this made all the sense in the world to me. I remembered a story about how, after he died, his daughters found years’ worth of private writing that he had produced. It sounded like they were really raunchy violent western stories, which my parents were naturally interested in seeing, until they discovered that my grandmother had burned it all. “It was PORNOGRAPHY!” she declared. It’s a little hard to tell whether she was simply appalled by this rather un-Rockwellian artistic deviance, or if she was especially bothered because she knew him to be real life predator. In any case, it would have been impossible to know, because when her sister confessed that their father had violated her, my grandmother basically gave her the finger. Or rather, she gave that whole upsetting topic the finger, and then insisted that her poor destroyed sister continue to be her faithful companion as if none of it had ever happened. “It’s so painful!” my grandmother cried when her sister refused her most recent invite to brunch, and it took everything in me not to say, “Yeah, well, can you think of any reasons by yourself why she might not be fucking dying to hang out with you all the time?”

So it became clear to me why my grandmother might be so controlling and belittling, why she might try to force everyone into a performance of endless childhood, why she might expel from her life anything that smacks of imperfection. It still remained very difficult for me to just suck it up and be what she wanted me to be, not so much because I’m especially proud of my personality--a personality that in every way would repel her if I were to reveal my private world of crime, horror movies, pornography, fetishism, occultism, anti-capitalist sentiment, and of course, suicidal ideation. I also had trouble being the granddaughter she needed because of this autism of mine; it doesn’t make any sense to me to dissimulate, I’ll never become a smooth enough liar to pretend to be somebody’s innocent little baby, even if it would benefit me to do so. Making things up makes no more sense to me, than it does for someone to say “I love you” without meaning “I’m impressed with your personality, your intelligence, your culture, your morality, your humor, your...” It doesn’t make sense to me for someone to say, “I don’t care who you are, I love you because you’re my baby.” I made my best efforts in her last years, but nothing will stop me from feeling guilty toward her for the rest of my life. The way that she died fucked me up so badly that I’m only beginning to realize it now.

#the big story #long post

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 7 years

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Andrew Garfield x Female Reader: One (Forty-Fucking-Three, Part 4)

A/N: Dear reader, we have finally made it. Here comes the forth and the last part of this series, which I can only hope you have enjoyed reading as much as I did writing. Thank you for having plunged headfirst into this difficult relationship with Andrew Garfield - I know I didn’t make it look like a walk in the part, but you are reading this, which means you still stayed. So basically, you slay. I do hope you’ll like it, bee’s knees xx Warnings: Hideous English, swearing, angst (I probably have some emotional issue - angst is like my specialty lol). Other than that, none.

New to the series? Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 Bonus:

Raindrops felt like blunt needles, landing on your cheeks and forehead, leaving their cool imprints on your skin. As your hands gripped its wet and slippery doorknob, you swung the door to your favorite café open, a completely random thought crossing your mind: you haven’t seen the skies weep like that since that life-changing night… Two weeks ago.

The café greeted you with a wave of warm air, the smell of coffee hitting your nostrils. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes, so lost in the moment you almost failed to acknowledge your ringing cell, screaming for your attention. Making your way to the beaming barista at the counter, you took out the convulsing device, briefly checking out the name on the display before taking the call, unable to suppress a small grin.

The café was deserted – the rainstorm outside was so violent, even hardened by the ongoing battle with the nature Londoners made sure to stay at home. Polished wooden tables gleamed softly in the light of the pendant lamps, Hozier’s voice tuning the sound of the wind out completely. Entering the café felt like setting foot in another universe, and this was what you loved most about the place.

Looking around and taking your surroundings in with a feeling of peacefulness settling in your chest, you brought the phone to your ear, still smiling at the barista, an acquaintance of yours.

“To what do I own the pleasure?” you smirked, mouthing cinnamon latte to the boy in front of the cashier desk, throwing two fingers of your free hand in the air. He took the largest carton cup, looking at your questioningly. You nodded negatively, pressing the phone with your ear to your shoulder and producing two tumblers from your leather backpack. Smiling, you handed him both. He took them, winking at you. “Are you that bored of white sand and turquoise sea?”

You heard Brittnee chuckle on the other end of the line, imagining her sitting on a beach wearing nothing but a white bikini and a huge hat, sipping on her Cosmopolitan.

“I thought you’ve met the guy I’m dating. He doesn’t do boring. His ass is always on the move,” she said, delight nonetheless jingling in her voice. “Yes, I’m talking about you”, she added, throwing a challenging glare her torturer’s way, no doubt. “Hey!” you heard a splashing sound before Britt’s outburst of irritation deafened you. You bit your lower lip in an attempt to keep the laughter at bay, your eyes focused on the coffee barista was currently preparing for you.

“How is London treating you?” Britt sighed, most likely falling back into her chair after a failed attempt at revenge. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come, it’s just when Seabass really wants something, he can be very persuasive”.

“You love me!” you heard Sebastian Stan’s voice echo in the background, followed by yet another splash. You snorted with laugher, brushing your fingers through the damp strands of your hair absentmindedly.

“I can see that,” you half-smirked, leaning against the counter on your elbows. “If that’s going to make you sleep better at night, you aren’t missing much. Just really bad weather, great coffee…” the barista looked up at you, smiling gratefully, “…and a Harry Potter Movie Marathon”.

Brittnee laughed heartily, the sound of it extremely contagious.

“So that’s what you have been doing instead of reading your script? Watching Daniel Radcliffe refusing to kick the bucket for two weeks straight?”

You feigned a scandalized expression, your eyes growing wide.

“Excuse me,” you spoke slowly, your voice dripping with hurt dignity. “I’ve learned all my lines ages ago. Believe it or not, I’d be glad to go back to work again, but Tony couldn’t seem to settle that actor problem… Until yesterday,” the barista put two steaming lattes on the counter in front of you and you gave him a thankful look. “He called me last night saying we’re starting on Monday. So let me binge on Harry Potter in peace”.

You heard your friend snicker as you searched the pockets of your leather jacket for money.

“Can I get two sugars for each please? Thank you,” you spoke to the barista, your voice drowning out half of Brittnee’s reply.

“…got him to watch it with you,” was all you caught, handing the smiling guy a ten. Motioning for him to keep the change, you snapped thick plastic lids over the tumblers and wrapped your fingers around their boiling hot steel, carefully lifting them up.

“You’d be surprised,” you spoke after having restored Britt’s speech in your head, flinching at the burning sensation, growing in your fingertips. “I keep telling him he could play the younger edgy version of that marauder… What’s his name again…” you put the coffees back on the table, taking a minute to bring out your flannel shirt from under the sleeves of your jacket, so it covered your entire hands. With your skin now protected by the soft fabric, you confidently grabbed the tumblers from the counter and stuffed them in your small backpack.

“How did he take that?” Brittnee was obviously having too much fun, imagining you saying shit like that to him. You couldn’t help but smirk, recalling that priceless expression of utter puzzlement on his face.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure that if I say it one more time, he’s going to throw his head back and howl at the moon”.

You thought Britt would split her sides laughing this time, as you made your way to the exit. The thought of trading the warm and cosy café for shrieking wind and piercing rain would seem outrageous if your insides didn’t perform all sorts of flips once you remembered what wrapping your hands around his torso felt like when riding his Harley Davidson.

“How is it going between the two of you?” Brittnee’s voice grew serious all of the sudden, the notes of familiar teasing all gone now. “Maybe it’s time you stopped keeping your distance? I know I have no business poking my nose into your guys relationship, but, Y/N, you deserve to be happy… Why don’t you let him in?”

You couldn’t help but frown at her words, as your stomach churned, your gaze fixed on the falling streams of rain behind the glass doors of the café. Last time, you were moving too fast. Jumping head first into the fire, your emotions taking complete control. This time, it needed to be different.

“Honestly, Britt, taking it slow seems like the best option”, you finally said, your voice a little too thin. “I need time to figure a shitload of things out, and he knows it. We’re friends, and it does the trick. For now,” your eyes focused on the black, shiny motorcycle parked by the edge of the road, its owner squatting by the front wheel, probably checking if some mechanism worked properly. His helmet hid his thick mane of hair and deep brown, bottomless eyes.

“You can’t play it safe for long, Y/N,” Britt’s voice seemed to merge with the one that rang in your head every minute of every day. “You’re going to have to take that jump one day, probably sooner than later”.

You blinked twice, fighting the sudden sensation of emptiness in your bones, an omen of something big and probably terrible. Raking one of your hands through your hair, you bit your lower lip nervously. You didn’t like this gut feeling. You didn’t like it one bit.

Brittnee kept talking, but you missed every word she said when barista called your name.

Sugar. You must have forgotten your sachets of sugar on the counter.

You turned on your heels abruptly, ready to go and fetch them… When your body collided with someone else’s, the hit catching you completely off guard. You gasped, ready to land on your ass, when two strong, rough hands grabbed your waist, keeping you steady.

Brain freeze. Your heartbeats echoing within the walls of the deserted café. His eyes watching you in that straightforward, wholehearted way as if saying I was worried sick, baby, where have you been. Everyone hopes someone someday will look at them this way.

“Andrew,” you said, like it was the most natural thing to utter after having slept with the guy and then having left him, naked, all alone on the floor.

It has been two weeks.

Looking at Garfield now, you could swear it might have been ages, the lines on his forehead so much more prominent, that careless sweet smile not living on his lips anymore.

“Andrew?” you heard Brittnee raise her voice at the mention of his name. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

Britt’s sobering voice seemed to shake you awake. Paralyzing stupor still reigned over your body, but at least your mind was clearing up.

He didn’t change… And why would he? It has only been two weeks…

Staring at him openly, still shocked, you realized you were wrong. He did change. Something in him did. It was more than these obvious signs of lack of sleep and what was it… Stress maybe? You didn’t know.

It was in the way he looked at you, like a man tired of fighting, who fell on his knees to beg for forgiveness, waving the white flag. At the same time, there were sparks in his eyes, one of that long list of reasons you couldn’t stay away from him in the first place…

You were a mess, gazing at him open-mouthed, searching for God knows what in his features, while he stared back at you like he had finally found exactly what he was looking for.

“Britt, I…” you spoke, not taking your eyes off him. “I’m going to have to call you back…” not hearing what she was saying, you dropped the call, unblinking, the world around Andrew and you going mute.

Everything about Andrew Garfield was daring you to fall in love with him again.

And you were holding on to dear life in order not to lose that dare.

“What are you doing here?” your voice was cold enough to chill Garfield’s bones, as you finally managed to speak again.

He bit his lower lip slowly, studying your face, his eyes sliding down your neck, your shoulders, your chest… It was like he tried to swallow you in, a junkie, who finally got a hold of what he craved most.

“I’m in London for work”, he answered vaguely, his voice pulling at the strings of your bloody heart, as it sang in your chest like a damn violin.

When you lay awake at night these two past weeks you kept imagining what your encounter would be like… Five, maybe ten years from now. The look on his face when he would realize that the woman who once may have cared too much for him, no longer cared about him at all.

It has been two weeks.

This hadn’t been the case yet. You weren’t ready.

“For work”, you repeated, urging him to develop. You aren’t supposed to be here, you almost screamed, panic overflowing your confused mind. You checked three hundred times, he was supposed to be in America, filming with Nicole Kidman or something…

“Yeah, I’m…” you suddenly realized Andrew was lost for words. And his hands, his bloody hands were still on your waist, apparently lost, too. “I’ve decided to do theater”.

Your heart stopped dead, and its lack of movement caused your chest to shudder in pain. Trying to keep your voice leveled, you pretended like you didn’t know what it was all about, but in truth, you did. You just couldn’t believe it.

“That’s… great, Andrew”, stop saying his name, “Where are you going to be at?”

Every word you said came out wrong. You looked at his face and all you saw were your naked bodies, entangled together, his lips sliding down your chest…

It was getting harder to breathe.

“Where you are,” he answered simply, his honesty slapping you across the face. You popped your eyes at him the minute these words escaped his bitten lips, his eyes caressing your face…

“I’m going to play Prior Walter in Tony Kushner’s Angels in America.”

You no longer felt anything. Just stared at him, uncomprehending, your entire being void. After everything he’d put you through, after you made sure to disappear from his life forever… He point blank refused to let you go in peace.

“What?…” your voice sounded like it came from someone else. Every second of this talk felt like a shitty planned out dialogue that was never supposed to take place in the real life. Your throat starting to tighten, you stared at him with your eyes wide and crazy, the fury inside of you making your skin crawl. “You’re shitting me, right? What is all of this?”

Taken aback at your reaction, Andrew bit the inside of his cheek. All you wanted to do was scream and break things.

“Didn’t I make my intentions clear enough?” you realized you were on the verge of shouting, losing all sense of self-control there was left in you. “I don’t fucking want you in my life, I don’t want you around, I don’t want you…” as you tried to push him away, as far as your strength would allow you, he grabbed your shoulders, leaning in closer.

“Y/N, listen to me!” his brown eyes were all you could see, “I was wrong, I need you, I need you more than anything, just…”

“You need me!” you almost yelped, breaking free of his hold. “How fucking dare you, Garfield!” you spit your words in his face. “Two weeks ago, you looked me in the eyes and you told me you loved another woman more than you loved me! This is insanity!” you scratched your nails on your head, looking at him, your eyes wild.

“Please, Y/N, let’s just talk,” Andrew’s eyes grew red as he tried to take your hands. You stepped back, like a wounded animal. “Everything’s changed, after…”

“After we fucked,” you finished for him, almost smiling, your voice poison. “So that’s all it took for you to come crawling on your knees. Jesus,” you crossed your hands on your chest, biting your lips and staring at him in disbelief. “For the love of God, Andrew,” you exhaled noisily, trying to get your shit together. “There’s a reason for why I didn’t stay. I moved on. It’s time you did too.”

You turned around, dead set on leaving him where he stood, ending the conversation and this entire story, this insane drama that was never supposed to take place…

“Fifty-three,” you heard him say behind your back. These words came out like a last attempt at a cry for help. Like they were his joker, the last card he had left to play. You froze in place, looking over your shoulder.

“Excuse me?” you raised your eyebrows at him, genuinely trying to understand what the hell he was talking about.

“Fifty-three,” he repeated again, like it was supposed to make all the sense in the world. His hands buried deeply in his pockets, he made a step towards you, bitter and desperate smile twisting his lips. “That’s the number of messages I left on your phone. You would know that if only you hadn’t changed your number after that night. I kept calling, again and again, thinking I was going insane, the recording of your voice bleeding me dry.”

You felt your face go white, as all the blood had rushed down to your heart, nearly making it explode. Your vision went blurry, but you couldn’t tell why…

“Sixteen”, in the meantime, Andrew continued, mercilessly. “That’s the number of times I saw you around Paris last week, reading in that British Library, grabbing a lunch with your friends, running down the street all wet from the rain… I saw you sixteen times, Y/N, and I just couldn’t bring myself to come up and talk to you…”

“Have you been following me?” your trembling lips barely moved, as you stared at him, unblinking.

“That’s the only way I could still be close to you”, he nodded, looking down. “I haven’t finished though”, you shut your eyes, as if shielding yourself from seeing him. Yet you still heard him, his voice resonating in your ears.

“One”, it sounded like the final note of the heartbreaking symphony, which was destined to end at some point. You opened your eyes slowly, your damp eyelashes fluttering. He was very close now, if you stretched your hand, it would land squarely in the middle of his chest. He still smelled like that minty aftershave and salted caramel… and rum. Maybe vanilla…

“Want to take a wild guess what this number represents?” he asked you softly, his gaze unwavering. A second more and he was going to cup your face in those rough hands, and bring you closer, his lips making you forget you’d ever left… “I thought so,” he said, when you didn’t answer. “That’s you, Y/N. You’re the one.”

Deadly silence seemed to paralyze both of you, as it spread out in the entire café, more eloquent than a requiem at a funeral. You were pretty sure you were going to strangle yourself, your throat clenching as you fought for breath.

Andrew was two weeks and a day late.

For a brief instant, you couldn’t help but wonder, watching your own reflection in his soft brown eyes. You wondered when he realized he needed you. You wondered how it happened. But mostly you wondered… would it have ended differently if he just loved you enough to come to that empty VIP lounge in the LAX airport, keeping his promise…

All of the sudden you heard a familiar deep voice penetrate the absolute stillness, life rushing back into your veins at the sound of it.

“Is everything all right, beautiful?”

You cleared your throat, turning your head to your right almost automatically. With his leather jacket completely drenched, small drops of water resting on his cheekbones, Ben Barnes placed a hand on your shoulder, his eyes searching your face.

Standing out there in the rainstorm, waiting, he must have wondered what was taking you so long.

“Yes,” you answered a little too quickly, smiling at him in a shaken kind of way. Your hand flew up to cover his, the one in which he clutched his helmet, causing you to turn your entire body towards him. His closeness seemed to sober you up as you lowered your head, taking a long breath.

“Just ran into an old friend”, you looked up at him, an uneasy smile decorating your lips. “Ben, this is Andrew”, you motioned towards Garfield, standing in between the two of them now. “Andrew, this is Ben… Although I suspect you might have already met,” the lump in your throat refused to dissolve, so your words came out blurred and hectic. “The coffee is taken care of,” you smiled at Ben again, but he didn’t seem to notice, staring at Garfield’s pale face. Barnes’ lips were a thin line, almost invisible. The way his jaw tensed didn’t escape your attention.

“Nice to have met you, Andrew”, Ben said, his voice low.

“Yeah, the pleasure’s mine”, you heard Garfield mutter. You avoided his stare, tears still pooling in your eyes, as you tucked a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you ready to go then?” Ben inquired, looking at you expectantly. You nodded at him, finally taking control of your emotions.

“Yes,” your reply was firm and almost cheerful. “I’m right behind you. I guess I’ll be seeing you at work, then, Andrew”, you both nodded at each other. There was nothing left to say.

As you walked away, the sound of your steps aligning with the rhythm of your heart, you counted your steps, small and heavy.

Twenty… Thirty… Forty-three…

Forty-fucking-three thumps on the wooden floors.

That was all it took for you and Andrew to go back to where you started: complete and utter strangers, sharing a handful of memories, which would eventually fade, just like the echo of your steps in a deserted café…

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield x reader #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagine #imagine #x reader #remus x reader #sirius x reader #kind of

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2indecisive4this-blog · 7 years

Text

“You can't banish me! This is my bed too!”

Request 9

Maxwell x MC

MC is called “Riley”

Mostly cute, mostly fluff

***

I’m jerked away from a pleasant slumber by the sudden and chilling call of the Cordonian Apple Jay.

The Jay, primarily slate grey in complexion, aside from it’s flaming crest and fiery belly, has a call so shrill and loud that it startles with more fierce a bite than one’s first Cordonian Ruby. Although, like the Ruby, the call is a bit of an acquired taste, becoming somewhat comforting and peaceful-seeming after its initial shock. My shoulders loosen as I relax, closing my eyes and listening to the uproarious birds overhead.

I should still have a good hour to get back to sleep before--

The door creaks open; a shard of light piercing my beautiful darkness. I shriek, my hands reflexively retreating to cover my eyes.

“Rise and Shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

Maxwell’s morning salutations, like that of the Jay, prove to be bit of an acquired taste as well.

“Hnnngggggg” I groan “Don’t all aspiring princesses to-be need their beauty rest?”

“Ahem, aspiring Queens to-be. And believe me, you don’t need it”

I lower my hands from my eyes, instead covering the redness spreading across my cheeks. “Awww, Maxwell… You think I’m prettttyy?” I tease him.

He snorts. “No, I know you’re beautiful”

I think my heart stopped for a moment. Wow he’s smooth.

I tease him “I bet you get all the ladies with that mouth of yours”

“No, just one would be nice” He smiles thoughtfully. Genuinely. I think I’m in love. “Anyway, as an aspiring Queen, I thought it high time we practice your queenly duties”

“Like what, exactly? And how?”

“Oh nothing too intense, just managing the staff, handling the press, maintaining the castle. Pretty basic stuff”

“Again, how?”

He shrugs. “I thought we could do some basic role-playing”

“Role-playing?” ..With Maxwell? I grin at him, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah! Like...this bed will be the castle; the carpet will span to the edges of its grounds, and this room is the kingdom”

“You mean my kingdom, peasant” I wink.

“Hey we haven’t started yet!” he objects, laughter in his eyes “And who says I’m a peasant?”

“I do..th! Dost thou knowest who..st thou...st ist speaking to...ist?” Total gibberish. He laughs aloud this time, his dimples settling in next to the corners of his lips as two perfect little footprints along a flawless sandy beach. My mind wanders in thought...

Should I name them? Can dimples even have names? Gerry...and Remus!

I slowly turn my attention back to present, relevant thought, and notice Maxwell staring at me expectantly. “Hmm?”

“I said who are they?” he (allegedly) repeats.

“..Who?”

“Whoever you mentioned..it was quiet but I think they were..Gary and..?”

“Gerry and Remus!” I finish excitedly. I deflate just as quickly “I mean..no one important”

“Are you sure?”

My cheeks flush, my lips widen to a sheepish smile. “Yes, very sure. You wouldn’t even notice them if they were..well right under your nose” I chuckle to myself quietly, performing a marvelous balancing act of the simultaneous shame and pride I felt for my joke.

He shrugs and continues. “As I was saying, how about I start as...the king?”

“You mean as my husband, the king? As prince Liam, the king?” I eye him suspiciously.

“No, no, just as an arbitrary king and queen example, by no means King Liam. Although yes, that would technically make me your husband”

“Interesting..”

“But the king and queen must maintain a professional relationship separate from their romantic feelings toward each other so as to act objectively for the betterment of the kingdom, for Cordonia”

“Queen in the streets, machine in the sheets?” I jest playfully.

“A..machine? Do you understand basic human anatomy..?”

“Do you?” I challenge “OH! I’ve got one! Lady on the throne, shady when we bone?” He chuckles, I take it as encouragement and continue

“Public monarch, private birthmark?”

“I don’t even--”

“Day-time ruler, night time water-cooler!”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Think about it!” I crack myself up, clutching my stomach as I struggle for breath. In the commotion I roll, falling off the bed and thudding clumsily to the ground. Fortunately, I hardly notice the impact in all my laughter.

After a few minutes, I calm myself, forcing the laughter to subside and look up at Maxwell. I grimace as I catch his expression; his brow furrowed, two fingers roughly rotating against his temple, his eyes squeezed shut. I’ve never seen him like this before.

I carefully climb back onto the bed. Tentatively, I touch his shoulder “Maxwell?”

Though he opens his eyes, he doesn’t meet my eyes. “Riley, you need to take this seriously. I mean, water-cooler?!”

Crap.

“I know” I plead apologetically “and I’m sorry. I promise, I’ll take this more--”

“--That’s the best you could come up with?” Wait, what? ..does he mean my apology? Shit, I need to fix this..I can’t lose him. Not Maxwell.

My lip dimple dampens, I sniffle. Tears start to well in my eyes; Maxwell blurring to a brunette blob, (dimples still clear as day though, thank god), and I choke a sob.

I look to him pleadingly “Maxwell please, I..I--”

His eyes suddenly reach mine, the sternness in his features immediately giving away to mischief before my eyes.

“EMPRESS BY DAY, TEMPTRESS BY NIGHT” My face drops into my palms, drenching them with betraying tears. “Aghhhh” I groan, relieved but so pissed. I swear my heart’s beating a twenty times a second; I can feel it pulsing in my forehead. Ahhhhhhh.

I watch as he cracks himself up “‘MACHINE’! HA!” his face reddening, Gerry and Remus...dancing, tangoing, maybe..

“WATER-COOLER!”

NO! I wipe my eyes, through with crying and reach out for something, anything, and… AHAH! a pillow! I grip it between two white-knuckled fists and swing it at him. It lands! Square in the chest, interrupting his laughing for a moment.

“Hey! What was that for?!”

“That’s” I swing at him again, he deflects with his own pillow “for scaring me!”

“What?! How?” He queries, deflecting another (admittedly cheap) shot.

“I thought...I thought…” I mumble, lowering my plush shield “I thought I..lost you” Tears sting the corners of my eyes. Oh crap, not the water works again…

I turn away, hiding my tears. He sits up on the bed and reaches out to me, his finger guiding my chin to look at him. I gaze into his eyes, searching the oceans of blue for an inclination.

“Oh Riley, you could never lose me..” I sniffle and crack a smile.

“..You never had me to lose” I bite my lip and stifle a gasp. It’s everything I can do to keep from bursting into tears..for the third time.

Not again. I take a breath and gently push him out of the ‘Kingdom’

“You’re banished!”

“What?”

“As Queen, I hereby banish thee to spend eternity..elsewhere!”

“You can't banish me! This is my bed too!” he laughs “..Err..Kingdom, that is” However, he respects my ruling; remaining on the floor, moving to face me.

“Maybe I should just go...you know, abdicate, and all that. I would have been a horrible--”

Maxwell’s lips meet mine, stopping me mid-sentence. For a moment, my lips freeze in shock, fortunately enough, it passes within a second and I return the kiss, leaning into him. He pulls away, parting what I can only describe as fate.

“Don’t say that” His lips flutter against my cheek “You’re going to be an amazing Queen” I tenderly press my lips to his cheek, thanking him.

I sigh “..which is why Riley and Maxwell can never happen, I assume?”

“That is correct” He nods glumly, his frown nullifying those beautiful dimples...

Gerry and Remus…

“But..” I venture “Queen Geraldine and King Remus could, presumably?”

A sheepish grin spreads across his face, our namesakes returning to their rightful posts at either end of his mouth. “I don’t see why not..”

Our lips find each other; he kisses me softly at first, then presses into me. I reach around his waist, pulling him toward me and lean back, trying to pull him onto the bed. I quickly realize his reluctance and pull away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, nothing, my queen…” his eyes flash “..except that I have been banished from this kingdom to never return again, surely you remember?” I roll my eyes and laugh. I did, banish him, didn’t I?

I reach up to him and ever so lightly press my lips to his ear.

“Might I suggest we..seize the next kingdom over?”

He nods eagerly and lifts me off the bed in his arms, carrying me toward our next adventure.

***

#i hope you like it #choices #maxwell #maxwell beaumont #maxwell choices #maxwell x mc #team maxwell #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #fanfic #request #fluff #fluffy #cute #funny

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mattyrambles · 7 years

Text

kelsey // dynamics // i

Understanding - becoming part of their dynamic, friend group was something I never thought would be that easy. But it was.

Nobody ever really questioned it, batted an eyelid at it.

Except George.

It was a Sunday night. Penelope’s garage. George was staring. A time where I couldn’t tell if he was squinting at me through hatred - or if it was just the effect of too much weed. Penelope liked to assure me it was the latter. I was never too sure.

Coming into late May - the beginnings of summer in little signs. 9pm sunsets, Penelope’s garage door left fully open, sun showers and the smell of rain soaked tarmac, pavements - heavy in the air. Petrichor - Penelope informed.

“It’s actually the plants,” Adam had told me earlier, on the walk to Penelope’s house, after we crossed paths in town. I had looked up in question, he chuckled - a low sound, almost inaudible.

Different - to Matty’s hyena like shrieks, George’s deep grumbles to cackles, Ross’ giggles, or Penelope’s guffaws that always sounded far too loud to emit from her petite frame. And I was so caught up in comparing a previously unheard sound to familiar ones - that I almost missed what he was saying.

He spoke low, and quickly - but in a coherent set of mumbles. “The smell,” he said, reminding me of my previous point, how I liked the smell after rain, especially in summer.

“It comes from the plants - grass, soil even,” he had stopped there, pink tinging his cheeks, hair slicked back from the downpour, and I thought he looked much better without the whole emo fringe thing. Not that I would say that. Pressing why he stopped - asking how, why.

He had smiled then, a bit of disbelief - I suppose he was used to Matty telling him to shut up by now, unless it was something he was interested in.

“Eh, basically when it rains on dry soil - or any kind of semi-permeable, or y’know porous kind of surface.. like soil or plants.. it - without getting too technical, it basically helps emit these oils and that’s where the smell comes from. Petrichor.”

“Oh cool, you’re proper clever, Adam.” - and he had laughed again, shrugging.

“Thanks, Kels,” Holding out a strawberry lace, different. Matty gave me cigarettes.

Now - snapping out of my thoughts, daydreams - by a shout, right above my ear, Ross.

“Oi, tits!”

A new development, nickname. Ross and Penelope. Disgruntled sounds - Matty.

A few days ago - Matty’s dad’s garage, the general rehearsal gathering point. Penelope - one of her giant posters of Robert Smith, The Cure. Adam had helped her tack it up on one of the walls, covering some of playboy models, other mostly naked women.

Something Matty told me him and George did a few years back, high. And George was staring again, that fucking squinting stare.

Matty, Penelope - debating which of the girls tits were real and which were fake - until an argument started over one. Matty insisting they were real while Penelope swore they were fake. Ross eventually throwing his two cents in. Penelope having a sudden out burst, exclaiming - “They’re obviously fake! I would know, I’m the one who has fucking tits!”

And Ross had smirked, quipping back with a low, “That’s debatable..”

Cackles - bouncing off the walls, through smoke - George, sat behind his drum kit, a fit of laughter. Adam following suit - although he did his best to hide it, suddenly becoming very interest in tuning his guitar, but the shaking of his shoulders giving away his near silent bouts of chuckles. Even Matty joined in - struggling to hold back.

And at first she had glowered - before rolling her eyes, but an entertained smile, muttering that were all fucking dickheads.

I suppose that’s how the name started - a kind of immature irony. Penelope was petite, skinny - and even though I was younger than her, mine were already bigger.

Now - they were discussing something about the Cold War that I couldn’t keep up with. Matty - pausing whatever game him and Penelope had been playing on Playstation. A sigh - over exaggerated, clearly bored with the topic. Laying back - his head, Penelope’s lap, eyes closing, spliff between his lips.

My history exam was the next day. Ross had offered to help cram - being the self-declared history buff, which is how we ended up sprawled on Penelope’s garage floor, notes scattered.

“Yeah, so I was right..” - Ross, turning back to me, refocusing in.

Time passed - eventually cramming turned into games of hangman and dots, Adam - on the phone to Pete, when Matty said they needed more weed, Penelope and Matty - hushed conversations and giggles. The Simpsons - telly.

It was raining again - distant rumbles of thunder, but a good vibe. Ambient, typical lazy Sunday nights.

That was until George. Seemingly engrossed in his laptop - it was sudden. His eyes flickered, meeting mine. And in retrospect - that may have been the start off.

Curses - sudden, and before anyone can really comprehend, a door slams.

Exchanged glances - filtered through surprise, unexpectedness.

Penelope is the one to follow, through to her house after him. Leaving the four of us with thunder rumbling closer, Mr Burns singing about his vest.

Now there was tension, something that ran thicker than the smoke hovering in the air. And I think Matty knew - from the distant buzz of voices.

“Are we knocking around to Pete’s then?” - directed at Adam, but not waiting for an answer, continuing, “C’mon Kels, I can give you a lift home on the way, yeah?”

He had seemed urgent, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t quick enough. Barely having my notes gathered up when there was a shout.

“No! Why is she here, again?”

George.

“G, shut up! They’ll hear!”

Penelope.

Rumbling - closer, and the rain seems to get heavier on the roof, in sync with my heartbeat. The base of my throat. The tv buzzing off - losing signal. Quieter.

“I don’t care, Pen - she’s a fucking kid, she’s not our fucking mate, Jesus, I’m sick of this - she’s not one of us!”

That’s when the white noise surfaced - flooding through each of my senses. Static mixed with rushing blood and internal spirals of cringes. After that - I wasn’t sure where to look.

But - what I had thought, had a growing surety of, was all vanquished that night. That I was one of them - fit into their dynamics. From three sets of eyes - only one emotion was present. Pity.

The rest of the night - was static, montone in passing. George’s words lingered and replayed. When Matty dropped me home, when Penelope called later. George’s words pierced and tore.

Although it wasn’t the first time he’d call me a kid, say I didn’t belong with them. It was one that never really faded. It haunted, hovered.

Because I liked him. I liked George Daniel. I liked the way he was around his mates, strangers at parties even. The loveable stoner type - a courtesy, that for whatever reason, was never extended to me.

I didn’t see any of them for a while. Avoiding.

Until - two weeks later. A Friday night, Penelope and George turned up on my doorstep.

#more kelsey trash #k e l s e y

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my-hero-aaron · 7 years

Text

A heckin Bodyswap

Oh golly, it’s everyone’s favorite trope, the bodyswap episode! I figured we needed some lightheartedness after the rough time that our intrepid heroes had with overclock, so here it is!

“Hey K, I didn’t know you have a birthmark?”

“wHERE ARE YOU LOOKING AARON?!?”

Wait wait wait, that doesn’t make much sense out of context, does it? Let me start at the beginning of the story. Let’s back up to the beginning of the week, shall we?

I rose out of the haze of a well-dreamt winter wonderland to wake up to snow falling on my face, and blinked a bit, drifting back off to sleep with a soft smile. However, the muffled shriek of my best friend lying face down next to me startled the fog from my brain, and I whirled to face her. “Frost me, K, what in the world are you screaming for?”

“tHAT WAS COLD” Came her muffled reply, and it finally managed to hit me just what the heck was coming from the ceiling. That dream I was having about a snowy field must have set off my quirk! I mean, in theory, it made sense, but I couldn’t exactly get a good handle on controlling any sort of weather patterns, large or small. First of all, it was a lot to remember, how each little bubble of air needed to be oriented, not to mention tracking just how much cold each section had... Not to mention moving cold with any sort of precision in the air around me was surprisingly difficult, since usually, I didn’t consider the air around me outside it being a fluid which could act as a somewhat resistive conduit to move the cold where it needed to go. It was like looking at a hidden eye puzzle. Sure, it was a random jumble of shapes now, but once you wrapped your brain around it, the pieces snapped into place, and it all made sense. Unfortunately, I had to have that moment of cerebral calibration each time, and even making artificial weather in a space as small as my room took a lot of work. So watching the snow fall around me with Kailey snoozing or at least formerly snoozing next to me sounded pretty appealing, a rare treat for a lazy Saturday that I certainly needed after the whole whatnot with time that went down. It had been a good while, but I was having difficulty unwinding and actually getting some sleep. Come to think of it, I mused, this was one of the first really good nights of sleep I’ve gotten recently. I would have continued to roll my way along that line of thought, considering the peculiar pleasure that arose from the deprivation and restoration of the resource of sleep, had K not jolted again at the second snowflake dropping into the exposed small of her back, this time, her elbow firmly planting itself into the soft space below my ribs. The woosh of the air leaving my lungs blew a few errant snowflakes to pile onto the same spot she got a little frosty nip moments before, the storm above my head flickering and dissolving at the... Startle, shall we say, that K had provided me. I flopped down next to her, wheezing as I tried to get my breath back, and groaned, “Thanks for the winding, Kailey, jeez~” as I turned to look at her slowly rolling over with a groan of her own.

“I justwannasleepin, popsicle, is that too much to ask, ya chilly goof?” slurred from her mouth, the sleepiness evident in the weakness of her tone. I noticed her hand rubbing at the small of her back to try to warm the little pinpricks I’d left, however accidentally, and smirked softly. Perfect revenge target located! I thought, slipping my hand under hers slowly and pressing my ever so chilly fingers to the small of her back, the look crossing my face best described as mischievous. Another small yelp arose from my bedmate, and it was her turn to whirl on me, clearly shocked fully awake by my frigid fingers.

“fUCKING CHRIST, AARON!”

I tsked at her, cutting off the obvious “gODDAMNIT” on her lips, trying not to laugh as I shook my head.

“Such language, young lady! What in the world would your mother say?” My voice thundered around the room in a passable imitation of the symbol of peace himself, breaking into laughter as I reached the end of my question, and K tossed the blankets into my face, grumbling noisily in return.

“sHE’D TELL YOU TO QUIT HECKIN FREEZING MY BACK YOU DINGUS!”

I beamed at my best friend, finally withdrawing my touch as I stood, stretching at great length as I worked the knots out of my shoulders. I wanted to get some training in, but perhaps that snow from earlier flexed my quirk enough? That, and even though I knew Kailey didn’t mind sitting there while I basically zoned out and tried not to freeze to death, I minded that she basically lost me for an hour or two. Then again, maybe some combat training would be nice! I tossed a shirt that was laying on the floor at K, chirping, “Let’s get some sparring work in! I did enough cold training a few weeks ago, and I wanna see if you’ve got any neat fighting bits with your quirk rattling around!” I strode calmly out of her room, walking across the bridge between our balconies as I shook the kinks out of my hands. As I strolled into my room, I considered the surprising degree of mess that the place had taken on in the past while, since I was a little busy making sure time kept passing to keep my room clean. I crinkled my nose out of indecision, pondering if I would keep K waiting if I tried to pick up a bit, only to find my question answered by the sound of her shower coming on. “Well, guess I’ve got a sec. May as well clean up around here.” I mumbled to myself, bending to pick up the literal pile of wrappers for food bars that had amassed near my usual meditation spot... Which was one of the few areas where I could see the floor. Gosh dang, it had gotten even worse than I thought, I’m not even sure some of this stuff was mine! I blinked slowly as my eyes bounced back to a glint of copper that they slid over moments ago. “That.. is very not mine,” I mumbled, dangling the necklace on a few outstretched fingers. The pendant was strange, a small carving of a man with two faces, with eyes that flickered as though they had a light of their own within, but as I turned it over, looking for a seam that would suggest some kind of way to get a battery in there for a light, to set off this little twinkle, but it looked so flawless, I was beginning to think it was hewn from a solid block of metal! Room cleanliness forgotten, I set the necklace down carefully, throwing on a t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, and picked it up once again, strolling to Kailey’s room. “Hey K, check out this weird necklace I found just chilling in my room, I’ve never seen anything like it befo-” I found my babbling cut off by a noise like I’d just been thumped on the head by the world’s largest tuning fork, and I locked eyes with Kailey through the glassy eyes of the pendant. Then the world seemed to speed up to the point of blurring, and I found myself staring at the ceiling of K’s room. Groaning softly, I sat up to see someone who looked like... Well, me, doing the same on the other side of the room. Raising a hand to my head, I mumbled, “Jeez, that pendant must have doubled me or something, right K?” The stranger who had what looked like my face went whiter than a sheet of paper, covering their mouth with a slow-moving hand, and the quiver of their outstretched finger directed at me sold the picture of shock even further.

“Y-you’re me!” They murmured through the fingers obscuring their mouth, then made a sound I could only describe as choked. “I-I-I my voice! It’s so... Low!” They said, a stammer halting the beginning of the sentence a few times.

“Hey, why do yo-” I cut myself off, my other hand flying to my throat, and blinked a few times, sputtering confusedly, “Wh-wh-why’s my voice so high? K, is this some weird thing with your quirk?” Then I glanced down at myself, and let out a shriek that pierced not only my own ears but the stranger’s as well, given the loud smack that crossed the room as their hands slapped to the side of their head reflexively. “I-I... I have BOOBLES! WHY DO I HAVE BOOBLES?!” My hand slid from its perch on my head and gave my chest an experimental jab. “I.. these feel weird.” I blinked slowly, giving them a small squeeze, and flushed. “These are, very attached to me.”

“pOPSICLE WHAT DID YOU DO?” cried the person across the room, their voice cracking a bit from the strain of the yell.

My hands falling from their... Exploratory, shall we say, position, into my lap, I felt my jaw creak open slowly. “K-k-k-Kailey? I-i-is that... You?”

“I think so?!? What happened??”

I furrowed my brow and closed my eyes, going back over the last few moments. I was cleaning my room, then I found that necklace, then I came over to see if K left it in my room, then everything got all wavy, and now we were like this... The necklace! That was the only explanation!

“K I think it-” The words blundered their way out of my mouth, my mouth five steps ahead of my brain, and I found myself speaking at the same time as my compatriot.

“Aaron I’m pretty sure-” Kailey was stumbling her way through a sentence similarly, and at the same time as me, to boot. We both mumbled to a stop and chuckled a bit.

“K, you go first. You’re the one with the super-space brain, right?” I smiled, sticking out my tongue slightly to bolster the complement of my friend’s neat ability.

“W-w-well, I saw something like this in a show once? Like they looked each other through a weird mirror thing and they swapped bodies?”

“So.. you’re... saaaayying we’re on a tv show right now?” I chirped, beaming at my deduction.

“nO YOU DINGUS WE SWAPPED BODIES!” K wobbled to her-my?-feet, storming over to drag me up. Wobbling a bit on unfamiliar feet, I glanced down once more, my finger poking at the... Protrusions, shall we say, on my chest.

“Could you PLEASE quit playing with my boobs and focus for a sec?”

“But they’re just so jiggly, and they’re right there!” I wheedled, stumbling a bit as I tried to bounce to punctuate the end of my sentence. “Also throwing off my balance apparently?” I mumbled as I pitched forward into K’s arms. Blinking, I finally processed just how much shorter she was than me, and glanced way up into eyes I usually only saw in the mirror. “You’re so short, how do you ever see anything, jeez!”

“Says the guy who’s so high up the ground’s practically f-” Kailey cut off abruptly, spinning to the right as a sneeze crashed its way through her face. I shivered, brushing at my shirt as a dusting of frost formed on my shirt. Then I felt it. A thundering mass of knowledge, like an entire concert hall full of people reading different encyclopedias at the top of their voice. The information piled into my brain, and I stumbled back, clutching at my head. “A-a-all of time and space...Holy shit how do you handle it? It’s so LOUD!” My eyes snapped shut, and I felt the words begin to pour from my mouth, babbling without end as the data forced its way through me. Sure, watching K overheat from data pileup was one thing, but feeling its pressure on my own thoughts was a whole different story. I wasn’t quite sure what happened, my world had shrunk to the absolute torrent of everything and anything finding its way into my awareness. The next thing I knew, the data had receded to a dull roar in the back of my mind, and I slowly opened my eyes to make sense of the present moment. Kailey had sat her body down on the bed, and closed it into a small, fumblingly made cocoon of ice, which I recoiled from the wall of sharply on touching it with my skin.

“Khione’s knickers, that’s cold! Is everything always this cold for you, K?” I grumbled, crossing my arms and beginning to shiver, my teeth chattering. A blurry form that I assumed was my own drew a shaky line down the front of the bubble that contained me, and it split, shattering noisily on the floor around me.

“S-sorry, I find not feeling anything helps, and using your quirk was the only thing I could think of!” Kailey stammered slightly, hiding her face behind her hands(my hands?). I smiled softly, shaking my head.

“K, it’s no biggie! I’m surprised you actually managed to get my quirk to work that well, that quickly.”

K blushed slightly at my complement, then seemed to notice my rather forceful shivering.

“Is it really that cold in here? It feels normal to me!” she chirped while wrapping a blanket around my body(her body? Jeez this is complicated).

Blinking, I considered just what I was wearing, and felt the blood rush into my face. Sure I was blushing a deep red, I ran a hand up along my leg to check I wasn’t wearing some kind of funky girl pants that I just couldn’t feel against my skin.

Kailey, seeming to have the same train of thought, flushed alongside me, her hands gripping the sheets lightly.

I opened my mouth to talk and found myself cut off by a firmly confused look from the body I inhabited just a few minutes earlier.

“A-Aron, what the heck is going on between my legs right now?” K flushed an even darker red, her neck crinkling to hide her face, the grip she had on the sheets becoming white-knuckle tight.

My blush rose in kind with hers, and a nervous chuckle emanated from my lips. “W-w-well, looks like I’m getting a rise out of you~” I sing-songed, striking an overexaggerated model pose, hoping my being a giant goof would distract her body my body, even though it usually didn’t. Kailey’s sputtering laugh told me I hit the mark, and I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the knot of tension pervading the air unravel slightly. Sure, we needed to figure out just what was going on, but that could wait. We had a lazy day to finish up!

The next day had dawned, and I let out a groan as I realized the body I found myself in wasn’t my own. I was hoping we’d swap back after a good night’s sleep, gosh dang it! I mused, stumbling as I tried to roll out of bed. “Gosh dangit, this is so much more top-heavy than I’m used to!” I grumbled, angrily jiggling my chest around a bit as Kailey strolled in through the balcony, freshly showered and ready to go.

“Jeez, be careful, those are attached you know!” She riffed, a crooked smirk I was much more used to doling out plastered on her face. She then blinked, noting my unprepared state, and rushed me into the bathroom. “Hurry up, Aaron, we’re gonna be late for school!” I rolled my eyes, tugging at the hem of my shirt, halting with it half off as K added, “And no peeking!”

My brow furrowed, and I shrugged. There wasn’t really much way I couldn’t peek, was there? Glancing at the clock on the wall, I noted it was around 7:30, and I knew showering would take too long, so I hurriedly stripped, pausing a moment before throwing on her uniform as I caught something in the mirror.

“Hey K, I didn’t know you had a birthmark I hadn’t seen yet?” I queried through the door, rushing as I buttoned up the uniform’s shirt.

“wHERE ARE YOU LOOKING AARON?!?” came her shocked reply as she barged in, clearly feeling scandalized. “Oh, you’ve... Got clothes on. Glad you listened, popsicle. Let’s get going!”

We rushed to school, nervous that people would pick up on the strangeness between us, but as the day passed by, we found that the only person who caught anything was a classmate of ours we had hardly met, a green-haired kid who looked a bit like an elf. Thankfully, the work we started on in the last class of the day was just a partner exercise of some sort, so K and I didn’t have to figure out how to act around anyone else. The teacher passed out the worksheets, and as I centered the paper in front of me, my hand gripped my pencil slightly, and the answers began to spool from it as though it had a mind of it’s own. “K-kailey, why do I know this? What’s my hand doing? hELP?” I half-whispered across the table to my partner in crime, who had a similar puzzledness exuding from her tone for an altogether different reason.

“Oh yeah, this question is...it’... wHY CAN’T I FIND IT?!” Kailey struggled, her eyes closing and moving back and forth rapidly as though she was trying to drive a saw through a tree with her glance. I let out a thankful breath as my hand swirled to a stop, the worksheet completed, and looked over at poor K, who now had her head in her hands, tugging at her hair slightly out of frustration at lack of answers.

“Aaron, can you tell me what it means by pythagorean triangles?” she whispered tiredly, looking over at me in desperation.

“Well, broadly, the concept of a pythagorean triangle arises from the state in which there is a triangle of 3 variable side lengths that happen to have a set ratio between each other, thanks to the right angle between the two shorter sides. The hypotenuse happens to be what is defined by the longest side of the three, and the two shorter sides are termed as legs. The ratio between the three sides as a whole is simply defined as a squared plus b to the second power equalling the amount that is produced with c and c as multiplicands.”

Kailey’s vacant stare was interrupted by a few confused blinks, and she muttered, even more exhaustion in her voice, “Listen, I bring it down a few notches for you, you’ve gotta do it for me now.”

I nodded slowly, and focused for a moment, trying to simplify the words that were trying to dig their way out of my mouth, but it simply wasn’t working. So instead, I tugged at her paper, and in the margin, sketched out a simple triangle, labeled the sides a,b, and c appropriately, and hurriedly scrawled the equation a^2+b^2=c^2 beneath it.

“So.. basically the two small sides, squared, equal the big side squared?”

“Yeah, as long as there’s a right angle opposite the big side.”

I smiled as I saw the tension flow out of K’s(my?) shoulders, and she set to work, the scratching of her pencil passing the time for me rather quickly. As soon as the bell rang to let us out of class, we bolted from our seats, hurrying to the office of a teacher we thought would have an answer: our homeroom teacher, Sekijiro. We burst into the room, out of breath, and the teacher raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you two? Is something up?” Once again, we found ourselves stumbling over words, trying to get the whole story out, and the teacher put up a hand. “ Aaron, you seem the least out of sorts today, and clearly something’s afoot here. Elucidate.” His calm order had me looking over at K, and she mumbled out, hardly audible, “someweirdtwofacednecklacemadeusswitchbodies”

The teacher raised his eyebrow further, and leaned in a bit. “I’m sorry? What was that?”

This time the mumbling was a bit slower, but no louder. “Some weird two faced necklace made us switch bodies.”

The teacher coughed slightly, urging once more, “Speak up, young man. I can hardly hear you.”

“Some weird necklace-” I cut off Kailey, bursting out, “I FOUND SOME FUNKY NECKLACE THING AND IT MADE KAILEY AND I SWITCH BODIES AND I DON’T WANNA BE STUCK WITH ALL THIS SPACE-TIME STUFF IN MY BRAIN HELP ” The panic in my voice was remarkably evident as it echoed around the empty classroom, and the teacher blanched slightly, harrumphing before musing, “Well, lucky for you two, I’ve got a friend who’s a bit of an expert in this sort of thing. He could be here in about a week,as he’s a busy man, so I’m going to go ask the other teachers if they’ve got any help closer.”

I looked at K, biting at my lip softly while he walked out, and as soon as the door swung shut, words blurted their way out of my mouth once more.

“I’msorryforinsultingyourquirkyou’vegotaverynicebodybutI’mnotsureIcanstayinitforawholeweekHECK”

Kailey blinked slowly, trying to work out what I meant by the rapid fire jumble pouring from my face, then softly laid a hand on my shoulder.

“Aaron, chill. I’m sure there’s going to be someone able to help us earlier than next week, the teachers here are practically legendary heroes!”

As though cued, Sekijiro walked through the door once more, looking a bit solemn.

“Unfortunately, you two, you’re going to have to muddle through this for a week. Asking around, the friend of mine is the only person who would know how to fix such an unusual issue without asking for significant compensation.”

At this, Kailey went white as a sheet. “I’ve gotta be Aaron for a whole WEEK?”

This was going to be an interesting week to say the least.

#Cryokinesis #bodyswap #my hero academia #my hero academia OC #boku no hero academia #anime tropes #Aaron #Quirk: cryokinesis #Kailey #Quirk: Spacetime #Mod Glacier

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