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tangledstarlight · 3 years

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33. bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go + juke

okay so. might have taken a few creative liberties here. but she does bandage his hands not really let go! eventually. 😬 for context!!! this takes place the ff!luke 'verse and about 4/5ish months after the end of the main fic (but doesn't need to be read to be understood😌)

thanks for sending one!😌💜

tw: mentions of blood & injuries & fire

33. bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

hand holding prompts!

A bus had crashed into a warehouse, it was all over the news.

Ten minutes after the news broke there were tweets saying the warehouse was full of fireworks, or cosmetics, or — Julie didn’t manage to scroll further than that when news reporters live on the scene were ushered further back as an explosion rocked the building, flames shooting high and something crashed down and someone screamed.

Julie had seen fire engines arrive at the scene and blew out a shallow breath when she’d stopped Lukes. The number was clear and bright on screen despite the smoke and people and Julie gripped her phone tighter and felt like she couldn't suck in a full breath of air.

Her phone had buzzed three times since the news broke three hours ago. One from Alex to check she was okay, one from her dad to ask if she wanted to come over, and one from Luke to say he was okay and would be home late.

Julie knew, from watching the news half her life and from spending the last year and half worrying, that fires like this could burn for hours, that it could take them all day and all night to deal with it. And logically, she knew the chances of Luke getting seriously hurt were slim, that he was good at his job and, despite what people might have thought, he was careful. Julie also knew that she’d never get any work done today until Luke was home and she could see for herself that he was okay.

So she opened twitter and a local news site on her laptop and turned something mindless on on the tv and waited. Flynn rings after an hour and talks to her about her latest client and doesn’t mind when Julie doesn’t respond past the occasional hum and vague ‘oh?’ and after Flynn pauses to let her read through the latest update — they’d gotten all the civilians off the bus, so far there was no casualties but firefighters were still working tirelessly to contain the fire — she asks if she’s okay.

“I’m—“ and she wants to say that she’s fine, but she isn’t ‘fine’, not yet, and she’s never been good at lying, especially to Flynn so she blows out a breath and closes her eyes, trying to block out the images of a build in flames and Luke’s face vanishing into them. “I’m worried. But I'll be alright. Tell me about how you plan on combining disco with a pastel colour palette.”

Flynn stays on the phone with her until she has a call waiting and apologies and has to go, promising to call back afterwards. But Julie tells her it’s okay. People’s lives go on, even while hers feels like it’s been put on pause for the day.

And it’s weird, she thinks as she moves around her kitchen to fill her coffee machine and put away clean dishes, this isn’t the first time Luke has been in a dangerous situation since they’ve been together. But it’s the first time she’s not been at work, not had something to distract her, the first time that Luke had been one of the first on the scene, that it had made the news.

The machine beeps and steam curls up from her favourite mug — it had been her mom's favourite first, deep enough to hold either coffee or hot chocolate with room left for cream and marshmallows, with a hand wide enough to curl all her fingers around and still feel comfortable and secure in her grasp. It reminds her of her mom and of cold mornings in the studio before school and of her first heartbreak when she’d been twelve and of when Luke had helped her unpack, carefully putting it on the bottom shelf of a cupboard for her to easily reach.

It reminds her of comfort and that’s exactly what she needs right now as she wraps her fingers around the pale yellow dotted ceramic, letting the heat seep into her skin, and walking back to her sofa. The sitcom on tv has changed to a different sitcom, and the twitter search is telling her there’s ten new tweets and the news site is still playing the muted live broadcast. She can still see Luke’s station’s engine in the background and knows he’s still there. She blows across her coffee, watching the steam spiral and the liquid ripple and waits.

It’s dark, the tv has gone through three different sitcoms only to end up back on the one she’d started with and Julie’s on her third cup of coffee when she hears a key in the door. She had shut her laptop an hour ago when the last update came through about the last of the flames being put out and the firefighters returning to their engines. It had been twenty minutes later when she’d gotten a text from Luke saying he was okay, and Julie had clutched her phone tight to her chest and tried to breath easily again. In her head, Julie knew he wouldn’t be home straight away, that he’d have to go back to the station, that he might go get checked over, that he might just end up going back to his flat with the boys and she’d debate getting in her car and driving to him.

So she’d waited, fingers tapping on the now cool ceramic as her teeth chewed her bottom lip close to drawing blood. And then there’s a key in the door and Julie waits until she hears it open and clicks shut again, a thud as he drops his bag, and then she’s putting her mug down and waiting in the entrance to her little living room.

He looks tired, is the first thing she thinks, his shoulders low and his head on an angle as he kicks off his shoes by the door, and when he turns around, eyes trailing up her legs to her face, she takes in the weary look, the circles under his eyes and the smudge of soot still on his jaw, and just holds out her hand. His lips twitch a little at the corners, and something flashes across his eyes that she thinks might be love as he steps towards her. One, two, three, four and then his hand, larger and warmer and callused, is in hers. She notices the smudges of dirt, scratches and patches of red and swallows as she looks back at his face.

“Hi,” he whispers, voice hoarse and Julie tries not to think about him out there for hours shouting orders and checking in with his crew and being so close to danger.

“Are you—?” she starts, voice just as low and it’s the way Luke squeezes her hand that cuts her off.

“I’m okay,” and then he winces, and Julie’s eyes shoot to his face, to his shoulders, to arms, to find what’s wrong. But she can’t see anything until he carefully lifts up his other hand, the one that had been buried in his hoodie pocket and she sees the bandage wrapped around his palm and tied at his wrist.

“Door of the bus was jammed and my gloves are apparently very old,” he shrugs, but there’s still a hint of pain in his eyes and an exhaustion like she’s never seen in the way he holds himself that stops Julie from commenting.

“Come on.”

She gently tugs at his hand and Luke follows her willingly into her bathroom, sitting on top of the toilet seat with a sigh that seems to echo through the room. There’s a first aid kit under her bathroom sink that she pulls out but instead of rooting through it Julie steps past Luke to turn on her shower, falling water filling the empty room as Luke raises his eyebrows at her in question.

“You clearly didn’t shower at the station, and you’ll regret not washing the smoke off of you now,” she shrugs, and if maybe she also doesn’t want him tracking smoke and soot and dirt into her bed, well, two birds and all that.

He makes a noncommittal sound, one shoulder lifting in a half shrug as he nods in agreement. Julie helps him take off his hoodie, and she knows he must be tired because he hasn’t even bothered with a t-shirt underneath, his sweat pants and underwear get thrown into her laundry pile and then Julie watches him climb over the lip of her bathtub to stand under the stream of water. She watches him for a moment, as the water trails down his back and his muscles stay tense, shoulders still drooped and hands slack at his sides. The water runs dark for a few seconds as he hangs his head, soot and dirt washing down the drain, and with it the last of his strength she guesses, because Luke turns around until his back is against the tiles and lets himself slide down until he’s almost sitting.

“‘m tired,” he apologises as he looks up at her, eyes hooded and lips trying to smile. And Julie just wants to hold him. But he’s soaking wet and looks halfway to sleep so she just shakes her head.

“Hey it’s okay. Turn around?” She says, and he looks at her quizzically, brows drawing closer together as she grips the bottom of her t-shirt and pulls it over her head.

“Don’t think there’s enough room sitting like this,” he mutters, and there’s a hint of his teasing tone that she knows so well that makes Julie smile, flicking his temple as she reaches past him to unhook the shower head from the wall so she can wash his hair.

“We’ll have to try it some other time, hm. Lean forward a little.” And he does, a soft chuckle rasping out of him that turns into a sigh as she starts to work her fingers into his hair and scratch at his scalp.

By the time she’s finished washing his hair and running a flannel up and over his back, and shoulders and across his chest and down his arms, the mirror has fogged over and the room is full of steam. Luke wraps a towel around his waist, and as Luke slowly rubs another over his head in an attempt to dry his hair, Julie runs one over her arms and across her stomach, glad she’d decided to save her clothes from getting too wet.

Julie picks up the first aid kit and wraps her fingers around Luke’s hand and then leads him across the hall to her bedroom. There’s a clean pair of sweatpants and his favourite faded cut-off laid out on the bed and when he looks at her, eyes a little wide and brows raised, she just shrugs once, and nods. Julie goes to let go of his hand, to give him time to get dressed, but Luke pulls her close against his side and presses a hard kiss to her temple. He lingers, and Julie doesn’t mind, is glad for the chance to wrap her arms around his waist and hold him, to feel the heat coming from his body and see his chest beating. He’s okay.

After Luke pulls on his pants and makes a show of pulling his t-shirt over his head, Julie pushes him back until he’s sitting on the edge of her bed, pulling over the little stool she uses to hold her make up and sitting between his knees. She’d pulled one of Luke’s shirts on while he’d gotten dressed and now his fingers are playing with the hem, rolling and twisting it.

“I like it when you wear my clothes,” he mutters and Julie laughs lightly.

“I know,” she can still very clearly remember the first time she’d really worn something of his, and he’d made it very clear how much he liked it. “Hand please.”

He puts her injured hand in hers and she holds it carefully as he fingers trace over the jagged cut and bites her lip. It’s really not as bad as she’d thought. It can’t be that deep, otherwise Harrison would have made him go to the hospital but still. Seeing Luke hurt always twists something in her gut and she has to take in a deep breath before she can get to work.

First it’s an antiseptic cream and second a kiss to his wrist as he hisses in pain, and then she starts wrapping the gauze bandage around his hand methodically. When she finishes the fingers off his other hand have twisted themselves into her top, his pinkie finger dipping below the waistband off her leggings as his thumb strokes idly at her skin, and Julie knows he’s doing it more to distract himself then her, but she still can’t help but shiver.

“Done,” she murmurs, tying the bandage off and gently tucking the end a little under to keep it out of his way, and keeping a hold of it, and when she looks up Luke is already looking at her, eyes soft and lips finally finding a way to smile.

“Thank you,” Luke whispers and rolls her eyes. They do this every time she cleans up a cut or graze. He thanks her, and she says he doesn’t need to, and then he kisses her as payment.

It’s the same as always, Julie shakes her head and Luke leans forwards, his lips catching hers. But where normally it’s a kiss that turns into something more, she can still feel how tired he is, it comin off of him in waves and Julie pulls back slowly.

“Let’s go to sleep,” it’s nearly 2am and it’s been a long day right now, all Julie wants to do is hold him.

She pulls back the duvet with one hand, her other still wrapping around Lukes and he slides under the covers first with a moan of relief, pulling her down to join him. The light is still on and she wants to take off her socks, but Luke has one arm wrapped around her waist and the other still holding her hand and pressed over his chest, and she can feel his heart beating. She shifts in his hold so she’s lying a little further down the bed and can put her head on his chest, hear his heart and feel the way his thumb traces nonsensical patterns on the back of her hand.

“Love you, Jules,” he mutters, and he must be halfway to sleep she knows, but his words her a little slurred and his breathing has gotten deeper and the lips he presses to her hair don’t stay for long.

She’ll get up when he’s fallen asleep, she thinks, to turn off the lights and brush her teeth. But for now she’ll let him hold her, and not loosen her grip on his hand and finally breathe.

#ask #anon #julie and the phantoms fics #julie molina #luke patterson #jatp #jatp fics #*prompts #okay this one is like 2.5k so i might end up putting it on ao3 at some point 😬 really got away from me i'm sorry #there's a lot of julies thoughts but i promise luke shows up eventually #firefighter!luke au

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creamypudding · 3 years

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Woeful WIP Wednesday

Hi! This is the start of my Woeful WIP Wednesday series of posts which will happen on Wednesdays, duh. And before anyone gets up at me about it not being Wednesday yet... just remember time zones exist in this world, and yeah, it is actually Wednesday.

Other things about the name... Most of these WIPs I'm happy with so it's not the actual stories that are woeful. It's the fact that they are still WIPs and not finished that is woeful to me, hence the name, yeah? Ok 😄

So with that out of the way...

I've gone through all my folders and found the various bits and pieces of writing I've begun and let slide or abandoned. My hope is that by letting them be free on Tumblr I might either A) remember that these stories exist, B) perhaps get a renewed appreciation and motivation to poke them, C) give myself permission to never look at them again.

Some of these WIPs I 100% mean to finish one day. Some I know I won't. Some I have actually finished but haven't polished completely or something's getting in the way of me doing a final pass so I don't consider them worthy of going onto my Ao3 account just yet but hopefully will one day.

The WIPs I'm gonna upload are also of various lengths. I have some completed chapters that are thousands of words long, I have some that are mere hundreds of words long and are slips of ideas I started to formulate.

I have 10 AkuRoku WIPs and 6 Zakkura ones. Each week I'll post one WIP and the pattern will be 2 AkuRoku WIPs followed by 1 Zakkura to mix things up a bit. I'll blab a bit about the WIP and post the full WIP under the cut.

If there is anything in particular people would like to know about the stories or the creative process in future posts please let me know and I’ll incorporate more information if people are interested in that sort of thing. If you give me direction I can follow through.

I hope you will enjoy these WIPs and I trust you'll judge them way less harshly than what I judge my own writing.

So anyway, kicking things off I have a very short and sweet AkuRoku WIP.

I started this in May 2019 and it's technically 'done' but I haven't posted it because it's not done to my specific level of 'done-ness'. All it needs is a little polish. A little editing here and there. Fixing the grammatical and spelling errors, and fleshing it out in a few spots perhaps.

It's the 'fleshing out' bit that hasn't happened and that's truly stopping me from considering this a finished product.

This story is called ‘10 ways to fall in love’ but I never came up with 10 scenarios which I suspect is why this story will never be finished. I could change the name of it and if I ever post it I will change the name of it. In fact, most of the WIPs I post would have different names if they ever do go up on Ao3.

But going back to this specific WIP— it is a canon story spanning Days, KH2, KH3, and after, which is maybe the biggest culprit in regards to why I never finished this story. I don’t do well with canon-based story telling. It’s too much pressure to get everything canon-compliant. Do people ask for things to be right? Probably not so much, but my brain is very hyperfocused on getting things right, which is a huge road block to my creativity and the reason why I prefer AUs.

I don't have much else to say about this story but if you enjoy this, or any of the other WIP’s it would be great if you would let me know.

If others are passionate about these stories it might make me passionate about them again. But who knows.

Rated G

Word count - 951

10 ways to fall in love

What do you call it?

This feeling I have?

Love?

No. Too strong, or not strong enough

A name

A special name

Your name

It was always your name

That made me feel like I had a heart

They didn’t have a name for it. They didn’t even know if what they felt was real because how could a Nobody feel anything. For Axel it was just a ghost of a memory of his old life. For Roxas it was an endless source of confusion because these strange sensations fluttered in his body all the time when he was around Axel. It was incredibly dull at first but grew exponentially bigger with the passing days.

He couldn’t reconcile that even the most tedious missions were made fun when they were around each other - though he shouldn’t be able to have fun without a heart. What were any of the experiences that ever happened between them, without a heart? They felt nothing. They were Nobodies. They couldn't be anything other than empty husks.

That had always been the greatest lie which had been told to them, which they chose to believe, until it became impossible, though the denial sat rife in the way they denied their joy, sadness, and anger. But the strongest denial flowed from the warmth and nameless affections that fluttered in the chest and stomach when they were together. Such a thing was most unbelievable of all and merely a figment of the imagination - a vestige of when they were Somebodies, a quiet echo in a vast nothingness of their actual existence. Even for Roxas, with his half-formed ideas of his Somebodies life.

But none of these things mattered because Roxas disappeared and Axel died.

"He made me feel like I had a heart." A quiet whisper of a thought, made real and said aloud finally crumbled the paper-thin veneer which Axel had clung too, all too late to do anything about.

And he is reborn, and now knows better. Lea knows better. He understands his returned heart which aches and bleeds broken and shattered even as it is physically whole inside himself, pumping blood. His soul has gone, reappearing for fleeting moments when he sees Sora get a certain look in his eyes, or uses a turn of phrase. A spark exists and it jolts Lea every time closer to awareness - closer to a name.

And then he is in that most miserable of places, fighting a war that might never be won, but he must try because the promise of what lies ahead if he does win is worth every risk. He fights for his friends, present and gone, and then out of almost nowhere Lea's heart is returned and whole and stronger than ever before, and his memories are back, and he holds the two people most dear to him. He cannot lose them again and does everything in his power to protect them both, and it is a safe feeling because it stops him from thinking too hard or feeling too strongly the flutters and warmth, and the soothing in his heart.

But he feels it all again, and let's himself be overcome by it as the never-setting sun of Twilight Town is observed with his most favorite people in the whole wide world sitting next to him.

He scooches a little closer, seeking the warmth and reassurance of Roxas next to him. The tinkling laugh builds his own and drips deep down into his body and soul to become the best sound he's always known to miss.

Happiness engulfs him. But it is not the word he looks for when he sees Roxas walking, talking, laughing, grumbling, and eating ice cream. It is so much bigger and all-encompassing than this miniscule word for a feeling..

"I never stopped wanting you back. I never stopped fighting to get you back," he confesses in the evening on Destiny Island, during a rare moment alone on this summer vacation full of reunions and happy tidings.

"I know. I saw, I heard."

"You did?"

Roxas nods and swings his legs as they dangle off the pier the both of them at sitting on.

It warms Lea’s heart to know Roxas was never far away. “I think I felt you – there in Sora. When he got angry and frustrated.”

Roxas laughs. “I was always angry and frustrated in Sora. Everything felt so warm and fluffy inside of there.”

“Realy? Why would that make you angry?”

“Because it’s like eating nothing but honey – you get sick of it,” Roxas shakes his head, “But it’s worse because someone else is force-feeding it to you.”

"It's ok. Just seeing you – knowing you were there wanting to get me back was enough." Roxas leans, Lea receives and the feels which are always right there, in the middle of his chest ignite and burn so bright.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to help you."

Lea hugs him tight, almost too tight. Roxas writhes against his arms and just as Lea makes to let go Roxas gets his own arms around Lea and squeezed him, robbing him of his breath for a few seconds, but Lea feels he could happily die in Roxas' arms and savors the crush.

They both end up laughing against each other, inhaling deep breaths, rubbing their cheeks against each other and leaning their foreheads together.

Everything they ever felt for each other is still there, but stronger, because they have hearts and acceptance of their reality.

"Axel," Roxas' breath tickles Lea's lips. He doesn't care to correct Roxas. Roxas could call him a heartless and he wouldn't care because Roxas is back and with him.

"I don't want you to ever disappear again," Lea murmurs.

"I don't want you to ever suffer again," Roxas apologizes.

Lea cups Roxas' cheek, which is so soft and warm. "I never will as long as you're with me."

#woeful wip wednesday #akuroku #akrk #cream pudding writes #wip #probably mostly finished

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sortasirius · 4 years

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Prompt: Dean drives Sam to the library routinely & pretends he hates it (but Sam knows he has a library card). Dean's started seeing a new face in the library, always reading books about spiders, but he doesnt how to break the ice. Until one day, he finally sits down and invites Cas over to his place to see his pet tarantula. When they get there, the tarantula is missing. Both are afraid of spiders: Cas was only researching for an assignment & Dean only got a tarantula to impress Cas.

This is literally the funniest prompt I have ever received, I literally laughed for a minute straight when I read it. Thank you so much, this was such a fun one to write, I hope you like it!

Words: 2063 (what can I say, the spider sparked my creativity)

Dean pretends to hate the library. Someone had to put up the front of being the cool intimidating brother, and they both knew that wasn’t going to be Sam, even though he was about a foot taller than Dean now. No, that didn’t make Dean self-conscious.

He takes Sam to the library at least once a week, Sam insists he studies better when he was there, Dean rolling his eyes and relenting, sprawling out in one of the hard wooden chairs and pretending to be bored on his phone until he could sneak off to peruse the stacks himself, where he was sure Sam wouldn’t see him. He reads Tolstoy and Vonnegut and Dostoyevsky and Salinger, even dipping into those Hunger Games books that everyone was so unto a few years before (his review? They’re pretty good, make him feel like he’s a fast reader).

It’s an easy routine, something that Dean will never in a million years admit how much he enjoys. The quiet shelves that all smell like dust, pencil shavings, and old books are peaceful, something that makes him feel like he can breathe a little easier, that life is a simple as sinking down onto the worn, stained carpet, his back being poked by a metal divider between the S’s and the T’s and losing himself in the inky words printed on the page.

One Sunday in the dead of winter, Dean’s in his usual hiding place in the back corner of the library. It’s a little darker here, but when your eyes get used to the lower light, it’s easy to read. He’s lost in the world of Jack Kerouac’s On The Road today, and is so immersed that he doesn’t even notice someone looking at the shelves next to him, right up until they trip over his feet in the aisle and crash onto the floor with a thud loud enough to shake the books stacked towards the ceiling.

“Shit!” Dean cries in a stage whisper, surprised, but not surprised enough to use a regular speaking voice, he isn’t an animal, this is a library after all. He scrambles to help the person up in the semi-darkness and then is face to face with a pair of wide blue eyes.

“Sorry,” the stranger whispers, trying to arrange his clothes, which Dean notices fit the attire of a college professor more than a student, and this guy looked like a student.

“S’no problem, my fault, I probably shouldn’t sit in the middle of the aisle.”

The guy nods, smiling a little shyly, and then hurries off before Dean can even catch his name. Damn. He was good looking too.

Dean sheepishly moves out of the aisle and to a small table which, though more in the light, is also open enough that Sam could see him if he walks by, and Dean still wasn’t sure he wants to deal with the smug look that would take up residence on his brother’s face if he saw him reading. But man, this book was just a little too good to put down.

Surprise surprise, he does get caught. Sam taps him on the shoulder with a wide grin, his bag hooked over his shoulder, clearly ready to go.

“So much for hating the library huh?”

“Ok, whatever, I just come here for the pictures.”

“Kerouac isn’t exactly kid’s stuff.”

Dean rolls his eyes and gets to his feet, looking anywhere but at Sam. He tucks the book under his arm. He had to check it out and finish it tonight, it’s just that good.

They walk by the guy that had tripped over Dean earlier. He’s hunched over his table, his hands flying across a notepad he has next to him, several books about spiders spread out around him. Dean makes a mental note of it. He was going to talk to that guy if he saw him again, he’s always up for a good challenge, and spider-boy looked like the perfect one.

He does see spider-boy again the next week, when Sam simply has to study for a midterm he has coming up. He’s wearing thick glasses with dark frames this time, his nose an inch from the diagram of a garden spider he’s copying. Dean tries to work up the courage to go talk to him, but there’s something so taboo about interrupting someone when they’re so clearly in a groove, so Dean watches him from the non-fiction section, observing the way his hair brushes the edge of the book he’s staring at, and the way he cracks his knuckles every so often when his hand starts cramping.

Dean decides he’s being a freak. He goes back to his little table and picks up Tortilla Flat by Steinbeck.

It goes on like this for nearly two months. Dean sees spider-boy every week, who’s name, he learns, is Cas, always at the same table, always working on something to do with spiders. And every week, Dean swears he’s going to go talk to him, but he has no idea how. He’s never been this nervous to talk to someone, but there’s a little nagging voice in the back of his head, what if this guy thought he was an idiot? What if they had nothing to talk about?

So, he does what he does best: he hatches a master plan at his little table in the back of the library.

He’s a genius.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam sighs, staring out the window of the Impala at the looming brick building of the library grew closer. Dean had put his plan into action the day before, and was eager to get to the library and ask Cas to come home with him, see his prize. He had insisted that Sam get a ride home with his girlfriend, and Sam had been only too happy to oblige.

“This’ll make a great story for Eileen I guess.”

“This is going to work.”

Sam laughs again.

“Like I said, you’re an idiot.”

Dean doesn’t waste time. The second he steps inside, and smells the familiar old-book smell, he heads straight for Cas’ table. Cas is wearing his glasses today, and is reading a book called The History of the Arachnid, he’s leaning back on his chair so two legs were off the ground. A rebel. Dean’s kinda guy.

Dean plops down across from him, and Cas lowers his book in surprise.

“Hi, you probably don’t remember me-”

“I see you every week.”

This catches Dean off guard. Cas arches an eyebrow, and then laughs a little.

“I’m Cas.”

Dean knows this, the librarian, Mrs. Covere, is a total gossip who loves Dean, and he had wheedled it out of her three weeks prior to hatching his plan.

“Hi Cas, I’m Dean.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean,” Cas smiles at him, clearly intrigued, and Dean isn’t going to disappoint.

“Listen,” Dean starts, leaning across the table with his hands clasped in front of him, “I see you reading a lot about spiders. And, though there are other books out there, I was wondering if you wanted to stope reading about them and come meet a real one.”

Cas pales by a few degrees, and Dean rushes to explain so he doesn’t come across like a total freak.

“It’s just. Uh, well, I just got this guy, and he seems pretty cool, and you, uh, seem into spiders and I was just wondering if you, like you totally don’t have to, I don’t want to make it seem like, anyway, uh, the offer’s there? I guess…”

He trails off, kicking himself for rambling so much. That was not part of the master plan. But Cas, though still pale, smiles at him again.

“Sure, as long as you promise not to murder me.”

Dean grins back.

“Scout’s honor,” he raises his hand in salute, “You can ask Mrs. Covere, she’ll vouch for me.”

The ride over to Sam and Dean’s shared apartment with Cas is quiet. He doesn’t seem to feel every silence with words, and Dean’s the same, he likes that. He wasn’t sure he could talk much anyway, he would probably say something that would ruin the surprise.

Dean jumps out of the car and hustles to his door the second he parks, and Cas follows, still with those wide, interested eyes, his reading glasses tucked carefully into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Dean had never seen anyone dress so formally all the time, he would have to ask him about it, after his amazing ice-breaker.

Dean heads straight for the enclosure the man at the pet store had suggested to him, looks in the tank…and his stomach falls into his shoes.

There is supposed to be a tarantula that Dean had purchased in that tank. There is not a tarantula in that tank.

“Ha ha,” Cas is standing next to him, also looking into the clearly empty tank, “Good one. Where did you hide it?”

Dean’s throat is very dry. His eyes flick from floor, to wall, to ceiling. Can they even get on the ceiling?

“Um. This isn’t a joke. He, uh, got out I guess.”

Cas eyes widen with palpable fear, he takes an automatic step toward the door.

“Oh hell no, nope no, I gotta go.”

“Wait! You’re the only one here with any idea at all what to do!”

Cas gapes at him, Dean feels like he’s hyperventilating, suddenly feeling like there was maybe something on his back.

“What do you mean? I don’t know anything about-”

“You’ve read nothing but spider books for the last two months!”

“It was for my term paper! I hate spiders!”

“Well I do too!”

“Then why do you have one in your house?!”

“Because it was my master plan! I thought it would impress you!”

Cas splutters, half laughing.

“Wait,” Dean continues, “Why did you come with me if you hate spiders?”

“Because I wanted to impress you,” Cas cries, still looking all around the room for their missing spider friend. Dean follow his eyes, searching for the traitor. He was supposed to get him laid, not be a cock block.

You’re gonna have such a cool home after this too, he thinks bitterly, you do this to me, and I’m going to give you to Charlie. She loves all kinds of weird pets, you’ll be living the dream, I don’t deserve this man.

Yes, he’s talking to a tarantula in his head, these are desperate times.

He looks up at Cas, half desperate, half terrified that Cas was going to walk out the door and start going to the library across town.

“Listen, please help me find him, and I swear I’ll take you on a normal date after.”

Cas just nods.

It takes them the better part of an hour to track down the spider, who is hiding in the corner of the living room by Dean’s guitar, and then ten minutes of rock, paper, scissors to decide who picks him up. Dean loses, damn paper, and doesn’t immediately yell when it crawls on his hand because this is a delicate operation and, even though he hates spiders, he actually didn’t want to freak the little dude out.

Dean calls Charlie immediately after he’s back in his enclosure, and tells her she needs to come grab her new pet ASAP. He and Cas sit on the couch, staring at the lighted enclosure, trying to make sure the tarantula stayed in place this time.

Charlie shows up ten minutes later, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and happily scoops the spider into a “travel carrier” as she calls it. Dean carries all the spider supplies out to her car, and as she straps him carefully into the passenger seat she calls,

“Say bye to Aragog!”

Dean and Cas wave as she drives away, Charlie eyeing Dean from her rearview mirror. He knows he’s going to have to give a full report later.

“I have to say,” Cas says quietly after a minute, “That was the most fun I’ve ever had on a first date.”

Dean’s heart skips a beat.

“Just how I drew it up. You hungry? Let’s go get something to eat.”

Cas slides his hand into Dean’s as they walk towards his car, and Dean can’t help but think he owes Aragog a drink or two.

#my writing #anonymous #lilly answers #yall i am ALWAYS down for prompts #destiel #spn

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moonnightyoongi · 4 years

Text

crashing | doyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

genre: angst (wat else ofc), maybe a bit of fluff?

word count: 1.7k

description: you couldn’t stop the negative thoughts from consuming you, until you saw a vending machine.

Always and forever was what they told you. When you meet someone you truly love it will be always and forever, you even convince yourself and tell them it all the time in the hopes of hearing them say it back.

But what happens when it comes crashing down? They don’t tell you the part where you wake up one day and everything feels different. You don’t look at them the same, their smile doesn’t bring you joy, the meaningless conversations you used to love becomes a mumble you can’t understand and don’t want to hear.

Why is it never spoken about? Why does everyone hide the fact that you may one day wake up and the love is gone? Does it happen overnight? Does it happen over time? If it happens over time then why can’t you recognise it till its gone?

How do you explain it to them? How do you tell them that the love you had somehow vanished over night and you’re now left with this sort of empty, vacant space in your heart where they used to be?

Does it come back? If you give yourself time can you learn to love them again? Is it unfair to do so? What if the love doesn’t come back and you have wasted the time they could have spent healing and meeting other people? Does it make you a bad person, or does it make you a good person because at least you…. tried?

“You know your essay is due in like 2 hours right?” Doyoung asks.

You snap out of your thought and stare at him, “I’m thinking.”

“I don’t think you should be doing that, you’ll drain yourself,” he jokes. You roll your eyes letting out a small laugh as you stared at the empty screen in front of you.

Take creative writing they told you, you can write 8 stories in one sitting. Now you were three years into the course and you could barely write a sentence without wanting to snap your laptop in two. Writing used to be so easy for you, you loved watching people read it and hearing their thoughts on how you portrayed their emotions and made them laugh or cry. Nowadays you would hide your work in shame, every story had the same story line - boy meets girl and their love is great. You could count on your fingers and toes how many times you had compared love to the colour yellow - bright and sometimes oddly annoying.You were almost certain your teacher was one more colour yellow away from circling it and telling you to look at a rainbow.

“Can I read what you’ve written?” Doyoung asks.

“I haven’t written anything.”

“What? We’ve been here three hours.”

“Yep,” you say nodding your head, staring at the library full of students nearly pulling their hair out.

“Just compare love to the colour yellow and call it a day,” Taeyong says typing away at his computer.

“Shut up.”

“Yellow?” Doyoung frowns, “How is love yellow?”

“Bright and oddly annoying,” Taeyong replies.

You sigh and slam your laptop lid down, “I’m going to go for a walk and clear my head.”

“Impossible, you never switch off,” Taeyong says, “Can you get me breakfast bars? I’m hungry.’

“Fine,” you sigh turning on your heel.

“I’d say love was more of a mint green,” Taeil says.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jaehyun tuts, “Mint green is a horrible colour.”

You laugh slightly as you walk out the library, how had your ramblings to get your essay over the word count become a debate on the table about what colour love really was. According to the world it was red, maybe pink, but to you - well, it was black. Black because its endless, its the colour of nothingness and never ending. Black holes? They go on forever, right? Pitch black room? Not endless, you’ll walk into a wall at some point. When you mentioned it to your friends they told you that you were stupid, black was a negative and dark colour. But, like everything, it depends on the context it’s used. Black may symbolise darkness to some but they never remember that at the end of darkness there is light.

“That makes no sense,” you grumble hitting back space and looking at the empty quad in front of you.

When you first started dating Doyoung all you could write was soppy love stories about how when two people meet who are soulmates the stars align and they no longer feel the heavy burden of trying to find someone to walk the earth with. Then it turned into stories about people who stayed together because it was easier than the pain of leaving them behind. Now your words had turn into nothingness. Not even the music you loved to write to could help you, the pages remained blank and the extensions were getting rejected by your teacher. She pulled you in and gave you some recommendations for how to beat writers block, but this didn’t feel like writers block. You had found out over this time that your ability to write was based on your emotions, and if you felt nothing then nothing would come out.

“Still nothing?” Taeil asks coming to sit beside you as you rested against the tree.

“Nope,” you sigh.

“What’s going on? Everyone’s noticed that you’ve been daydreaming and not really here the past few months.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you think about?

“I don’t know,” you reply.

“How can you not know?”

“It’s just noise,” you tell him. He looks at the grass in front of him and puts his hand on your shoulder.

“If you need help, there’s no shame in getting it.”

“I don’t think I can get help with writing this essay, it’s illegal.”

“I mean you, not your essay.”

“Why would I need help?”

“Can you tell me honestly that you feel yourself right now?”

“No.”

“Then speak to someone, even if it’s me.”

“Have you ever been in love?” You ask him.

“Yes.”

“Have you ever fell out of love while still with them?”

He pauses, “No.”

You nod your head, “I hope you never know the feeling.”

You stand up and dust off your jeans, “I need to get Taeyong cereal bars.”

“Y/N,” Taeil begins, “Usually when people fall out of love with someone it’s because they’ve convinced themselves the other deserves better.”

You look at him and blink vacantly, “Right.”

You hear Taeil sigh as you walk away from him to find a vending machine somewhere in the university buildings. Was he right? Had you somehow managed to convince yourself that Doyoung deserved someone better? Someone with a proper degree and not a creative writing degree that will probably lead them into some low paid job they hated.

Walking into the empty hallway you saw the vending machine shining brightly amongst the darkness of the halls, suddenly it clicked. You knew what you wanted to write about. Slamming yourself on the floor of the empty hallway you clicked away at your keyboard the fasted you had since you were maybe 15 years old. Excited to write, a feeling that had become so unfamiliar to you.

It wasn’t some cringe love story, it wasn’t about the fucking colour yellow, it wasn’t about star crossed lovers or a breakup and how the person recovers over time with a little help from their friends.

It was about finding light in the darkness. The stupid vending machine had shown you the error of your ways. You had become so negative towards everything, everything was black to you - but what you were failing to realise was that if you turned ever so slightly you would see the light in the darkness, the vending machine if you will.

“Y/N,” Doyoung says shaking you awake.

“I KNOW SELF DEFENSE!” You scream, issuing a few laughters from the boys behind you, “Oh it’s you.”

“Your boyfriend? Yes, hi,” he laughs, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“You fell asleep in the middle of the university hallway.”

“What?!” You shout, “What time is it!”

They all fumble around looking for a watch or their phones, “Oh you’re useless!” You shout shaking the mouse pad to show you the time.

“Shit! My deadline! I missed it,” you groan.

“Send it to me now,” you hear a voice say from the end of the hallway. Looking up you see your teacher with a small smile on her face.

“Miss came to find us when she find out you flat out on the floor,” Taeyong says “I assume you came to get my cereal bars and got an idea.”

“Yeah,” you groan rubbing your eyes.

“What did you write about?” Taeil asks as you rushed to send it.

“Finding light in the darkness,” you reply.

“Fucking hell she went from yellow to black and white,” Jaehyun jokes.

“Shut up!” Doyoung scolds hitting his leg, “You wanna go sleep on something other than floor?”

You nod your head, “Yeah. Did you guys finish your essays?”

“Yeah, on time too,” Taeyong says, “Without snacks that were promised.”

“Oh my god I’ll get you the stupid cereal bars tomorrow!”

“We’re already into tomorrow, I asked for them yesterday!” He shouts.

“You’ve got a real attitude for someone who’s expecting snacks from me.”

“Come on,” Doyoung says wrapping his arm around you.

You smile at him as you walk behind everyone who were pretending to kick the air and screaming - most likely from the relief of finishing their final papers of the year. After speaking to Taeil you felt better, everything made sense and you felt aligned. Sure, they was most probably going to be a lot more work to do - especially if you were good at convincing yourself everyone deserves better.

“I love you,” Doyoung says snapping you out of your thoughts.

You look at him and smile, “I love you too.”

“I want you to know one thing,” he says.

“Go for it.”

“I’ll always have time for you. Always and forever.”

“Always and forever.”

And for the first time in a long while, it didn’t sound so bad.

masterlist | ask

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twiceblackvelvet · 4 years

Text

Tipsy

pt. i. pt. ii. pt. iii.

April 2nd, 2022. 22:31 PM. Seoul.

Apart from being aesthetically pleasing for photography, high-rise balconies with nothing but the night sky and light breeze for the company have always been a place of peace for Yeri. Somewhere to gather all of her thoughts and contemplate her next move, whatever that may be. Several times throughout her career, she’s stood atop a balcony, looked out over the landscape surrounding her, and tried to put everything around her into perspective. The view alone is a big part of why she bought this apartment for herself after it became clear she couldn’t stay with her parents any longer. That and it’s close to the studio where most of her time is spent nowadays.

The wine glass placed on the table beside her has been empty for the past hour, not that it matters. The bitter taste still lingers heavily on her lips as if she’d only just gulped it down. An empty bottle sits discarded on the kitchen counter of her apartment. As of late, those bottles have been piling up more and more to where her mother has grown concerned with the amount of alcohol she’s been consuming whenever she calls over to check on her. However, if it helps with getting a good night’s rest and blocks out the lingering thoughts of self-doubt that threaten to turn her into an insomniac, that’s all that matters.

Falling asleep as the sun rises used to be perfectly fine when there were several managers around and people to make sure she was on-time to different events no matter what. But, she no longer has that luxury with just one manager who barely even checks in with her anymore. A lot has changed in the last few months since the split of Red Velvet, and yet, Yeri still feels like compared to her other former members, she has achieved nothing at all.

Joohyun has turned herself into a Mother Teresa type for plants the last she heard and is enjoying the simple life. Joy is acting again and appearing on billboards throughout the city for some cosmetic brand that is likely paying her way too much. Wendy has begun the process of kick-starting her career in America, which will no doubt end up being a success. Seulgi, well, she’s probably the only one of the group who truly understands how lost Yeri feels, but even she is preparing to debut solo.

Whilst everyone moves forward, she can’t help but feel stuck in place. Despite the leap outside of her comfort zone after leaving SM, the creative freedom she so desperately was seeking for years is not the kind she assumed she’d have once becoming a producer and songwriter for an exciting independent label.

“The artists don’t believe a former girl-group member with such little experience can give them the hit song their career desperately needs.” The words float through her mind once more. A constant alarm within her that triggers a deep sense of hopelessness whenever they appear in her thoughts.

A harsher breeze blows her flowing hair across her face, blocking her from pondering on the darkness inside of her head for too long. Probably for the best. It never ends well when she lets her insecurities get the better of her. The cold air sends a shiver down her spine and threatens to infiltrate her body with the flu if she doesn’t step back into the warmth of her home soon, which she does immediately.

Like usual, her hands drift back to the empty wine bottle, sullen to find the contents missing but mentally refusing to believe that she is the one who has consumed it entirely. Light background noise stemming from the television is the only sound audible once the doors to the balcony are closed. A re-run of a drama that Yeri has tried to binge-watch three times now, every time her intoxicated brain has prevented her from picking up on the storyline.

Her back pocket on her jeans holding her phone which is vibrating through the material. Someone is calling. Twisting her arm to grab it, her fingers almost lose their grip and drop the device which would no doubt have smashed it against the hard flooring. However, she catches it before disaster strikes and answers the call all in one motion.

Had she gotten the chance to check who it was that was on the other end of the line, she may not have wished to speak to them. But no, she has no choice. She heaves a deep sigh before putting the phone to her ear, immediately regretting how close she pressed it against her head.

“Hey! Yeri! Hello? Are you there?”

“Wendy. I’m here. You don’t need to shout, you know?”

A short laugh can be barely heard before Wendy once again bursts Yeri’s eardrums.

“I’m not shouting! There’s just an echo in my bedroom. Anyway, that’s not important, I have something to tell you!”

“If this is about the place that sells muffins that are also doughnuts again, I don’t want to hear it. I know they’re the best thing you’ve ever had but if I can’t taste them then what’s the point in telling me about it?” Yeri fires back. In Wendy’s words “heavenly food mash-ups that get the Seungwan approval,” is frankly wearing her patience thin.

“No, silly! I just woke up, I haven’t eaten yet, but I got some good news. Are you ready for it?”

“I’m practically on the edge of my seat.”

That’s the first honest thing Yeri has said to Wendy in weeks during these phone calls that have become a bit of a habit. Her tipsy state has made sitting like a normal human being relatively difficult, it seems.

“Well, prepare to be blown off it. The label finally got back to me about including the song you wrote for me on my album, they want it to be a bonus track, isn’t that amazing?”

It takes Yeri a moment to recall what Wendy is talking about. The closest her hands have gotten to completing a full song lately was a poem she wrote on a napkin whilst out for breakfast with a mean hangover. However, it suddenly clicks when Wendy hums the melody, and Yeri realizes she has made a big, huge, major error.

“Wait, Wendy. You can’t use that song! I don’t want it on your album!” She practically screeches and this time it’s Wendy’s turn to feel a sharp pain in her ears.

“Why? You were so proud of it and you know I love it too, I’ve already recorded and submitted it, I’m not sure they’ll let me take it back now.”

A throbbing sensation settles itself dead center in Yeri’s forehead. There’s absolutely no way of getting out of this one alive. Either Wendy will kill her, or… even worse…

“It’s fine, ignore me. It’s your song Wendy, I’m sure the album will be amazing but I really need to go.”

Without waiting for Wendy to tell her goodbye, Yeri has already hung up on her and is quickly scrambling to find the right contact hoping to be able to stop what could be a disaster waiting to blow up. The phone rings for several moments before finally a robotic voice reads the age-old script of “this number is unavailable, please try again later.”

For the next thirty minutes, Yeri calls and calls, desperately hoping that on at least one of these occasions she’ll finally hear anything other than a dead end. Pacing the floor of her apartment, she deeply regrets drinking all of her wine earlier. A nice glug would go down well right now to stop her entire body from shaking.

Just as she’s about to give up and try to sleep this awful situation away, her phone finally rings and there in bold letters lies the person she’s been aiming to speak to. Seulgi.

“Hey, Yeri. I have a bunch of missed calls, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

The sincere, worried tone to Seulgi’s voice only makes Yeri feel even worse about what she’s about to request of the person she’s been relying on heavily these last few months to help her through the slump she’s fallen into.

“Hey, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, about all the calls I just really need a favor from you.”

“You called me 216 times for a favor?”

Yeri pulls her phone away to check the number for herself, shocked that it’s even possible to call someone that amount of times in such a short period. But there it is, clear as day.

“Um… Yeah. It’s kind of important, you see.”

It isn’t. It’s just a stupid mistake that’s all her fault that she now needs to hope Seulgi will bail her out of without her finding out the real reason behind her request.

“Okay, what’s up? You’re worrying me, kid.”

“Well, you know Beautiful Love Lost.”

“Oh, yeah, I was just listening to the final version, funnily enough. The company loves it I even heard some people talking about how they regret letting you go.”

Things could not get any worse, Yeri thinks.

“Well, I need you to delete it, please.”

Silence is all that follows her words for a few seconds until finally Seulgi releases a deep exhale.

“Look, Yeri. I know you’ve been kind of down lately with things not working out at the label. But once this gets released, they’ll see that you’re the most talented person they have there. I promise you, you don’t need to doubt yourself.”

Things did get worse.

“It’s not that, I just think it’s too personal, I don’t want you to release it.” A lie, the biggest lie she’s ever told to Seulgi.

“I don’t understand… You were happy for me to have this and now… you’re not?”

“Yes, exactly. Now I’m not. I don’t want people to read too much into it and think they know me.”

She doesn’t speak, but Yeri can tell that Seulgi is taking in everything she’s saying to her and trying her best to digest it all. Even to her own ears, the words don’t quite make sense, nor do they feel truthful. Seulgi has always had a way of reading between the lines and Yeri knows she’s doing exactly that now, she knows that Seulgi knows this isn’t the real reason she doesn’t want her to release the song. However, she surprisingly doesn’t question it.

“Fine, I won’t use it. But you owe me another song and fast. The album is due out on the 16th but I have four more days to resubmit anything I’m not happy with.”

“Yes. You know you’re my favorite person, right Seul?”

“Sure kid,” The doubt clear in her tone. “But I mean it. Four days or I can’t do anything for you. I’ll have to use one of the SM producer’s songs.”

“I will, I promise.”

They say their goodbyes to one another with Yeri breathing a deep sigh of relief she had been holding during the entire call. However, the anxiety rises in her chest once more with the realization that Seulgi, despite her stubbornness on the subject of Wendy, will probably listen to her solo project even if it’s just to be overly and falsely critical.

Her mind goes into overdrive with worry about just how Seulgi will react. Will she bring her death slowly? Or will she simply ignore her existence as she has done with the rest of their former members?

Before the fear consumes her completely, however, several messages from Wendy appear in the notification bar of her phone.

00:13 AM [Wendy]

It’s fine Yeri, I won’t use the song if you don’t want me to. I know this is personal for you.

I hope you release it one day instead. I miss hearing you sing.

Don’t forget though, the album is out on the 15th. You better listen to it!

The only feeling Yeri is capable of at this moment is relief, however, had she took the chance to pay attention to what Wendy had said, she’d realize that another disaster was still steaming ahead on two different tracks ready to collide on the same day as each other for her two friends.

pt.v

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singeramg · 4 years

Text

Midnight: Chapter 18

Pairing: Clark Kent-Superman/ Metahuman! Black! OFC

Rating: M

Warnings: Much of the same warnings before, language, sexual innuendo, lewd comments, child abuse so trigger warning.

A/n: I am writing a little bit everyday so this got done and I am already well into chapter 19! I was going to post this last night but I decided to wait until this morning.

CATCH UP HERE!

Midnight: Chapter 18

* Denotes: Inner-voice

I look around the dimly lit room as if seeing it for the first time despite knowing I had been in it for a while. My eyes hone in non Clark chained to a wooden chair in the middle of the room.

“Clark?!” Recovering from whatever hold had been put over me, I tried to shake my head to clear it, but all my emotions were a jumbled mess. All I knew was that I had to get to Clark. It was odd but he wasn’t giving off fear.

“There’s my Gia. Glad to see you again.”

He says with a smile as if he was trying to comfort me. The longer I looked at him the fogginess of what I had done began to lift. I remembered helping trap him, bringing him here, coming up with the idea for those god awful chains and then I forced myself onto him. What the fuck dude!

If he didn’t hate me before, he sure as shit would now. I scramble to my feet, and over to him.

“What in the hell did I do?!” Ask mostly to myself but Clark responds.

*“No permanent damage yet, but I think we stand a much better chance of sorting this out if I get out these chains.”*

I don’t think too hard and control myself enough to gather enough energy to cut through his chains. I pull them off quickly and toss them as far away from him as I can. Clark finally takes a full and deep breath as the Kryptonite chains were constricting all of that for him. He coughs roughly as his body readjusts to his strength returning.

“Oh my god I fucked up bad. What did I do...”

Thoughts raced through my head as I imagined all the ways Clark could kill me, each more creative than the last.

*“Gia, Gia. Calm down. Everything will be alright. Can you still hear me like this?”*

I was confused.

“I am panicking Clark, not deaf of course I can hear you.” I snap but note that I am still shaking.

*“Gia look at me.”*

He says and it sounds like he is trying to poke fun at me. I frown and look at him.

*“Gia my lips haven’t been moving the entire time.”*

I yelp and jump away from him.

“What the hell?!”

This time Clark laughs out loud and he just pulls me closer to him, it surprised me that he would even want me that close to him.

“Everything will be okay, but first we have got to get out of here. I am still too weak to fly, at least while I am near these chains. Do you think you can get us out of here?”

All of my memories of this place are still fuzzy, everything felt so intense, and sharp. Apparently now I could read minds. This was all new and strange to me. What had happened while I was here? How long was I here? Most importantly, how could we get out of here. I looked around for clues, trying to think of anything that could help when Clark’s head shot toward the door.

“Someone is coming. Follow my lead.”

He pulls me close to his body as he sits himself down in the chair and we end up in the same compromising position we had been in before. Clark’s hands pull my face down onto his just as the door opens. He makes the kiss intense right off the bat, slipping his tongue into my mouth, holding my head in place. Lost to the moment I moan forgetting we were only putting on a show, at least until a throat clears behind us.

“I hate to interrupt but I heard the bossman just kicked out his house guests and is about to make an appearance. You may want to lock the lover boy back up before that happens.”

I fight back the urge to cry as I recognize Tracy.

It had been years since I had seen Tracy and to see her again, under these circumstances I was hit with my own guilt, and her simmering anger and sadness.

I have no control over these new expansions of my powers so I can’t control hearing thoughts. Tracy practically yells in her mind at me.

*“Hurry up so I don’t have to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you! Hurry hurry! Boss will make me hurt you.”*

“Okay Tracy. What if we don’t tie him back up? I need to leave.”

“Leave? Wait...you are awake aren’t you?”

I watch as Tracy goes on the defensive. I stand down so that I don’t make her even more wary of me.

“Tracy I don’t want to fight you. Come with us.”

This time Clark was the one shouting at me. I winced outwardly as Clark yelled in his own head.

I would definitely teach him that he didn’t need to yell in his head.

*“Are you crazy Gia?! She was the one who caused the crash and kidnapped you.”*

*“Yes Clark. I know exactly who she is. I failed her before. I won’t do it again.”

*“You are trying to get yourself killed, I’m convinced.”*

I realize we have been silent exactly long enough to be rude and freak her out. I feel her defensive energy build and she prepares to fight me.

“Please Tracy come with me. We can help you.”

“So now you want to help me? After all these years? You want to help me? I don’t think so, I think you just want to use me. You don’t care about me. He does.”

The images of the kind words, and sweet gestures. All of which had been more of a sibling in nature, but as I watched them briefly it was clear she was being groomed. He was talking to her persuasively, soft words laced in the way that would make any impressionable young person comply with whatever just to continue to receive that affection they had been starved of and I knew Tracy had been starved because for a while I had too.

“Tracy I care. I promise I care about you. Just come with us. You will see that I only want what’s best for you.”

“Fuck you!” She growls at me. I feel Clark tense up behind me.

“Tracy. Please I already said I don’t want to fight you.”

I try to keep my eyes open and honest. Tracy was contemplating an attack as she had been taught, but the part of her mind that hadn’t been altered. The true part that I knew of her, was fighting her to let us help.

For some reason she can’t explain to herself, she agrees at least until she is sure we aren’t a threat as much as I could gather from her surface thoughts. Without much control over this new power I didn’t know how to dig deeper for the stuff people wanted to hide. I push positive emotions to her.

“Alright, we can get out of here but the boss is headed down here on detainment level.”

“If we can get Clark away from the chains, he and I can handle the rest.”

Tracy nods and holds her thumb against the door panel and it opens to an empty hallway. Do my best to move calmly and confidently as if nothing is wrong. Tracy has no problem staying calm and I can feel her power surging through her arms, which indicated she had super strength. I remembered her punching me and taking me down for the count. Clark is nervous mostly because he knows he is not at full strength to help me as much as he normally could. It worries him and especially as we navigated through the halls, using what I could feel of energies to avoid others and trusting Tracy to guide us out. Thankfully, just as we were getting out the last door, we narrowly avoided a guard coming around the corner. Out of the building I felt Clark’s strength boost exponentially as he was now far enough away from the chains that he was back at full strength.

“We have got to get out of here. Gia I can carry you, Tracy will have to get on my back and I can fly us out of here.”

Then we heard a loud siren which told me someone knew we were gone. I could feel anger, and mostly panic coming from those inside, and from experience I knew nothing good came from that mix of emotions.

“Shit, okay let’s go!”

I turn to Tracy who for the first time looks unsure. I walk over to her and take her hand.

“Tracy, I need you to trust me. I can’t leave you here so let’s go.”

Clark looks between us as he walks over and turns his back to Tracy for the first time since this all started, and kneels down so she could get on his back easily. Tracy shoots me a look and I can feel fear and uncertainty pouring from her, but she latches onto his back and grips him tightly. I breathe a sigh of relief and let Clark scoop me up and hold me tightly against his chest like he always does when we fly. We take off with a blast ignoring the calls for us to stop and get just far enough away that if Clark moves at a random pattern then they couldn’t get a shot on us.

*Wayne Manor: 4:45am*

The flight wasn’t that long, maybe 30 minutes at best and I could feel Tracy’s energy was running low. Clark landed in the driveway of Bruce manor rather than my room, and Tracy slid off his back easily. Clark doesn’t put me down until we are inside the house.

Lights come on in the foyer just as Clark carries me across the threshold, sitting me to my feet just as Bruce, Alfred, Diana, Barry and Victor all come rushing into the room.

Their thoughts all come at me loud and at once, it hurts. I crumble to my knees, holding my ears, trying to make it stop. Ramblings of ‘he found her’, ‘she’s alive’, and ‘she’s hurt’, all swirling around in my head. I start crying and Clark kneels in front of me.

“Gia, baby what is wrong?”

He pulls me against his chest and I mumble.

“It’s so loud, Clark. Everyone’s thoughts are too loud.”

“Remember when I taught you to focus your energy? Make your world smaller, focus on one thing. One sound or one mind, start blocking everything else.”

“It hurts.”

I say with my head throbbing, tear tracks running down my face.

“I know it hurts but if you don’t try this, you will just hurt and hurt. I can’t watch you suffer. I know you can do this. Remember to focus on just one thing, one sound, one feeling, bring yourself down.”

He rubs my back and I try to heed his advice, focusing on how good his hand feels on my back, and his thoughts which he had basically cleared out to chant ‘relax and breathe Gia, I am here to protect you’. His mantra helps me focus until I stop whimpering and can open my eyes. I look at him with bloodshot red eyes and Clark offers me a small smile, leaning down kissing my forehead.

“There’s my Gia.”

I get that tingly feeling from hearing him call me his. I push it down for the moment and stand to my feet, ignoring the small ache in my knees. I am finally able to look up at the team and everyone looks and feels concerned however the most resounding emotion is relief for me.

“Thank the gods you are alright. That both of you are alright. We’ve been looking for Clark for hours since he disappeared from the club.”

Diana walks over and pulls me into a hug. I allow it and I start to feel suspicion roll off of Bruce in heavy waves.

“While I am glad you and Clark have both returned. I think we are a little behind the curve, who is this?”

He gestures behind us to the small figure who had backed herself into a corner. I read her quickly and I feel true and deep fear from her for the first time. I pull away from Clark and walk over to Tracy.

“Everyone, this is Tracy. One of the reasons we escaped was because of her.”

Victor steps up.

“I know her face. She was the one talking to Clark before he disappeared, I’ve watched that tape back and forth. She slips something in his drink and then she guides him out the club through the back entrance. He is clearly influenced by something.”

Victor looks pissed and rightfully defensive.

“ Yeah she also was the one who caused the wreck, but apparently I came up with the entire plan to kidnap Clark here. She was my partner. She didn’t have a choice. She never did. We were both kidnapped by the same people.”

“So you brought the threat to my house then.”

Bruce asks dryly.

“No. She isn’t any threat. She came willingly and if you could feel the emotions I could then you would know she is not a threat. I will warn you though, she is finicky. Keep calling her a threat and moving to attack and she will attack you. Her mind has already identified 6 ways to incapacitate and/ or kill you Bruce.”

I say with a straight face and I take note that Diana moves herself between Tracy and Bruce.

“I brought her here because I knew she would be safe. I couldn’t leave her there. Not with them. I already broke my promise once, I wouldn’t do it again...”

Flashback: 7 years ago

They kept us in dark, dirty cells in a black if them, that looked like we were being housed in an old prison. I have been here for years and everyday I wake up feels like a fresh hell. We slept two to a cell, however I didn’t have a roommate right now. The last one was a 22 year old Hispanic girl they took away and she never came back. It was common at this point, they took away so many girls that never came back.

I learned a long time ago to stop crying about it because these guards and scientists could smell your fear, and no matter how much you cried and begged. They would always take you. It was rare that you even made it back to a cell without severe damage. It was still lit for the block and I sat on the top bunk re-reading an old, worn copy of Alice in Wonderland. This place didn’t have much in the way of books, despite them having kept me learning. I wasn’t allowed too many that weren’t educational. Under the guise of more possible success ‘if I wasn’t stupid’ I had been here since I was 16 and based on the dates I could glean from the other children they had taken, I was somewhere around 19 now.

The longest ‘candidate’ they had here. I had been through so many tests and trials that I wondered why my body hadn’t just given up on me. I wanted to go already. To see my momma again, not to suffer through this pain anymore. I was simply biding my time until that happened.

Alice was talking to Twiddledum and Twiddledee when I heard muffled crying and a dragging of feet. The worst guard, Jax, manhandles a small girl into my cell. Tossing her inside so hard she slams against the wall, yelping in her surprise agony. I leap down quickly.

“Hey you jackass, she is just a little girl!”

I stand between the two of them. I fight off my feelings of disgust as I watch him lear over me, the industrial lights of the corridor shining off of his bald head, and his lips curling back to reveal crooked and yellowed teeth that looked like dude had never had a relationship with toothpaste in his entire life.

“She might be, but you're not. Are you? You know exactly what happens to little girls with bad attitudes.”

I try not to let fear show across my face. He was right, I knew the stakes of bad behavior, shit I probably was the reason they didn’t have as much push back from the other girls and boys they took. I was always made an example of when it came down to punishment for what they deemed breaking the rules. Hell, early on, they beat me often I didn’t even know what I was being beat for by the end of it. Jax has been around the entire time I had been here and he took sick pleasure in how we cried and bled on cold, stone floors. Now he just looks at me like he’s waiting for the perfect opportunity to get me alone.

“Yes I do, and Unless you are coming to take me away for that, then get the fuck out my cell.”

His eyes flashover in anger, and before I can make note of it he slaps me down to the ground. I scream out in pain, and catch myself on my hands.

“Still so feisty, you would think you would have learned your lesson by now.”

“Fuck you.”

He leans down laughing at me as I wipe the blood from my lip.

“You ask me nice enough Sweetheart and I will.”

I frown my mouth up in disgust, and try to scoot backwards.

“Keep holding your bad ass breath, the fuck you’ve been eating, dog shit?.” I snark.

“I have a feeling I won’t have to wait that long. The boss is thinking of approving some new techniques to bring out the success in his experiments. Trust me I’ve got some interesting ideas.”

Then he laughs, walking out of the cell, slamming it closed, locking it.

“You should probably teach the little one some manners. I would hate to have to teach her a hard lesson.”

With that he whistles back down the cell block.

“Sick fuck.”

I say pulling myself off the ground, dusting off the tank top and sweatpants I was wearing. The small girl was huddled in the corner, her sniffles obvious in the silence of the cell.

I walk up to her slowly, and she curls in on herself. I remember doing this exact same thing years ago.

“My name is Gia...ummm... Gia Smith. What’s your name?”

She sniffed, finally looking at me, her eyes big and brown. Her lips were small and red from being worried, her hair light brown and super tight curls. She was actually similar to me except she was mixed with white and black making her a few shades lighter than me, smaller, really just a baby.

“My n...na..name is Tracy.”

I held my hand out to her, hoping she would take it.

“Okay Tracy, how old are you?”

*sniffle* “9.”

“Okay baby well, how about you get off this cold floor and you can have the bottom bunk.”

“Ms...Gia I am scared.”

My heart broke for this beautiful little girl. She was obviously so loved from wherever they had snatched her from and it hurt that she was even here, having to endure this same type of pain and life I was in everyday. She gets up, running unexpectedly into my arms. The force of it almost knocked me off my feet, I didn’t have much strength but I held the sobbing little girl as tight as I could....

*End Flashback*

Standing in the corner, despite her hair being completely straight and being taller, she still was that same little girl that was thrown in my cell all those years ago.

For a year I basically took care of her, taking all of the punishments, helping her with the work they gave her, gave her my share of food sometimes when she was still hungry, cleaned and comforted her when they would take her away for hours and she would come back a mess, battered, and sometimes unconscious.

Those were the nights I would stay up all night crying and hoping each time wouldn’t be the time that they took her out of the cell forever. It was the reason I had never gotten close to anyone here, because that day that I broke out, I forgot and I broke my promise to Tracy.

Now as we all stood in Bruce’s giant foyer the tension was real. I walked back over to Tracy, her eyes were still brown, the little girl I helped all those years ago still there, but burrowed behind years of torture and pain. Almost killing her, but I knew that sweet girl was still there. She looked much older but she couldn’t be any other than 16 now, which bothered about having her in that club, drinking and dressed like she currently was.

“Tracy, do you think you would like some different clothes? I know I have something upstairs that will fit you?”

She looked at me, and then shut her eyes tightly as if trying to fight off a memory. I knew that was probably the case as I had recognized that hunted look on my own face plenty of times.

I look at Bruce.

“Would it be okay if she stays the night? We can figure everything else in the morning?”

“You trust her?”

He asks skeptically

“Yes.”

I say without hesitation, surprising almost everyone except for Clark.

“Sure.”

I help Tracy upstairs to my room and once inside I find her something comfortable to sleep in.

“Why do you trust me?”

Tracy surprises me, asking as I go over to the bathroom, to pull out fresh towels for her.

“Because I know you, you may have gotten older but I know you Tracy. I know you are still in there and while you may not feel like it, maybe she’s buried deep, but I know the little girl I shared a room with for a year is still there. I hope that with a little trust from me that she will trust me enough again to reappear. I am going to head downstairs and I have someone very important to check on, but if you need just for me or Clark and we will come back up. You can sleep in my room tonight.”

I offer a small smile, her mind still doesn’t fully trust me, but she still knows she is tired of following whoever this boss was and deep down she remembered what I did for her all those years back. I leave the room as she goes into the bathroom. As tired as I am I manage a shield to notify me if she leaves the room, and I could monitor her energy from anywhere in the house.

The team had moved into the library as I walked back in and I winced as the thoughts hit me again. I tried not to drop to the floor and Clark helped me into the nearby chair.

“Gia, what happened to you?”

Diana has rushed over to me as Clark helps me relax with a centering hand on my back. Her mind, along with everyone else’s runs a mile a minute. I toss a finger over my lips, and say

“Can everyone just like... focus on like one thought for like five minutes? Jesus.”

I says rubbing my temples.

“Did she just say focus on one thought?”

Barry says

“Yes I did, and shit you think almost as fast as you are, slow down for a second kid. Plus all of you are thinking really loud.”

“Gia what happened? You’ve developed the ability to read minds?”

Bruce asks me, with his hand on his chin.

“Yes. The last thing I remember after being taken was me talking to a man and his basically authorizing them to start new tests. After that I came to with Clark tied to a chair, and me dressed like this. Speaking of which...”

I waved my hand and the annoyingly short and tight outfit I was wearing changed into yoga pants and a t- shirt. Grateful to feel so exposed anymore.

“That’s better. I can tell you guys details from what isn’t foggy but where is my son first?”

I look to Clark pointedly.

“Our son is with Ma’ and Ms. Alphonse at the farm.”

“Ms. Alphonse?”

“She didn’t want to leave until you returned. We all figured Kalen would need familiar faces around while you were gone.”

Alfred offers the conversation and I tear up as it hits me how much I missed my baby boy. How freaked out he must have been not to see his mom.

“Can I...we go to him? I need to see my baby...”

“Gia I will go and get him, he has been waking up at 6 am anyway. It’s practically 5 now, by the time we get here he will just be waking up. You can go get some rest.”

“I am not sleeping until I see Kalen. I can’t hold the shield I put over Tracy’s room all the way at Mrs. Martha’s. I can’t leave.”

“Bruce you have virtual driver mode on all of the cars correct?”

Victor asks

“Yes.”

“Good, Clark give your mother a call and let her know a car will be there to pick them all up in about an hour.”

I shoot a grateful look to Victor and I take note that the loud thoughts have all stopped while I wasn’t thinking about them but as soon as I did they came back full force. I wince, Clark notices and shakes his head. His voice speaks clearly above everyone else latent thoughts.

“Okay that’s enough, Gia you are in pain. We can finish this in the morning. You have been through enough. I’m taking you to bed.”

His voice books no argument but that didn’t mean Barry didn’t think anything.

*“Well that was fast. Didn’t think they were together again, but I guess he missed her, urges are urges...I mean shit...you can hear me can’t you Gia.”*

“ Yes Barry. I can.”

He blushes and I laugh. While everyone else looks on confused.

“Clark would be correct. Everything has been a haze and the lack of sleep is not helping this new power at all.”

I stand to my feet, Clark hovering and he toys with the idea of tossing me over his shoulder. I turn to him with a glare, and shake my head.

“I’m tired, not unconscious Clark.”

I eye roll and he chuckles behind me.

“Gia we are all glad you are safe. I will be here if you need anything.”

Diana offers and I know it’s sincere. I offer a small smile to her and everyone else despite my head ringing, and Clark takes my hand in his to lead me upstairs...

A/n: HEY EVERYONE! Hope you enjoyed this chapter and as always I appreciate all the love you guys have been showing me with this story! Also the re-blogs and replies are great and helps me move forward and write faster! You rock!!

TAGLIST: Still open so let me know if you’d like to be on it.

@bloodyinspiredfuck @romyr4 @thethirstyarchive @p3nny4urth0ught5 @kmcmpmd

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill x black ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #SUPERMAN X OFC #Superman #Clark Kent xOFC #Clark Kent

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notyetneedcoffee · 5 years

Text

The Old Fashion Way

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: This chapter is pretty PG - it WILL get smutty later

CHAPTER ONE

Something in the atmosphere changed whenever Steve Rogers stepped on to the floor. The crowd at the copier got a little heavier. The voices of the ladies pitched just a bit higher. A friendlier chatter echoed between the cubicles. Female giggles chimed across the floor. You found it endlessly amusing because he remained complete oblivious to it.

You pulled up his profile on your computer, and just before he turned into your office you greeted him with a pleasant, “Good morning, Cap.”

“How do you do that?” He chuckled, lowering into the seat on the other side of your desk.

“We’ve been over this.” You took the file folder from him. “The staff gets all hot and bothered when you’re around.”

The slightest touch of pink tinted his perfect skin. Steve chose to ignore your statement and shifted his oversized frame in the chair. You peeked over the top of the file, noting the effect the movement had on the already tight blue tee shirt. No denying the man defined gorgeous.

“You sure you don’t mind me doing this the old-fashioned way?” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Steve.” You smiled. “I’d much rather you turn in clean paper work via hardcopy, than force me to run down missing pieces and incomplete forms electronically like Bruce does.”

“Banner? Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” You continued to read through his report. “He may be genius, but he’s as absent minded as they come. Steve, you’re still not claiming everything that you can. These can’t be all your expenses.”

“Y/N,” He sighed, “I’m just not comfortable with all that stuff you mentioned. If I’m going to have a cup of coffee or take a cab, that’s my choice. I’ll pay for it.”

“I get it. I do. Just don’t forget those perks are there, okay?” You tossed his file on your desk. “So, did you watch them?”

Steve picked at the seam on his jeans, smiling with an adorable shyness. “Yeah.”

“I knew you’d love them.” The mischievous giggle escaped despite your best effort.

“If the guys knew I spent my Saturday night watching Disney movies…”

As soon as Steve spotted the Snow White pin on your ID lanyard a few weeks ago, you’d fallen into a long conversation about what it was like for him to see it at the movies when it first came out in 1938. The detail in which he described the artistry of the animation confirmed your notion that the Captain possessed a creative side. Listening to him, you were able to imagine the wonder at seeing a full color animated movie for the first time.

You may have teased him about crying in front of a date at the movies while watching Bambi, but Steve quickly explained he usually went to the movies alone. He confessed he enjoyed watching Disney movies by himself because they allowed him to completely escape who he was for just a little while. He could be happy for a bit.

With that little confession, he broke your heart. Not painfully, because instead of leaving you bleeding he just crawled inside and warmed your soul. Steve didn’t even know he did it.

So, you pulled out a pen and held out your hand for his ever-present notebook. You stared your very own page. You jotted down all your favorites in no particular order, but upon reflection, put stars next to Cinderella, The Jungle Book, The Little Mermaid, Robin Hood and The Lion King. Steve promised to watch your recommendations, giving you a bright smile.

“I can be our little secret.” You smiled.

Steve beamed back. “Sounds good, so long as I can keep from humming the songs on the elevator.” He grinned at your laughed. Long fingers began picking at the seam of his jeans again. “So listen, Y/N, I was wondering…” His phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen, a frown clouding his face. “I have to go.”

“It’s okay.” You smiled. “You know where to find me.”

Steve got up, still reading the text message. At the door he paused with a heavy sigh. You wondered what brought the worry to his face, knowing he couldn’t say. He gnawed at the corner of his lower lip before locking gazes with you again. “It might be a while, but I do want to finish this conversation.”

You gave him a what you hoped was a nonchalant smile, but inside you we’re fighting the urge to jump up and wrap your arms around him. “I’ll be here.”

“Okay.”

“Steve,” He paused and looked back. “Be safe.”

His mouth opened as if to say something else, but instead just nodded with sad smile before walking away.

**********

You took a sip of the perfectly prepared latte and thanked the waitress. Being early on a Sunday, few people occupied the little coffee shop on M Street in the Georgetown neighborhood. Later in the day you planned to look for a new apartment. For now, though, all you wanted to focus on was a good cup of coffee and your book.

Only four pages into your chapter, someone stepped into your personal space, their shadow cutting off the warmth of the sun. You glanced up, eyes roaming over powerful thighs, trim waist and tight abs, to hugely broad shoulders, finally meeting amused bright blue eyes.

Rogers wore running pants and a tee shirt that looked painted on. His breath came a little faster than normal. His smile, though, was just for you. Setting your book aside, it took all of your will power not to stand up and hug him. It’d been three weeks since he’d left your office that day.

“What are you doing here?” He smiled, hands on his hips.

“Rebuilding an engine.” You deadpanned. His head dropped to one side and he rolled his eyes. “Just having coffee. Pull up a seat.”

You kicked the empty chair out a couple inches. Steve sat down and leaned a little closer. “I’m sorry I haven’t come by. We just got back yesterday afternoon.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You smiled, surprisingly pleased it was the first thing to come to his mind. “My desk is still there. What are you doing here this morning?”

“Oh, I just went for a run around the National Mall a few times.” He gave you a shy smile.

The Mall was maybe three miles away. The loop was four or five miles, you couldn’t remember. A few times around, plus there and back. He was a machine. “You run a marathon every Sunday morning?”

He just shrugged, smile a little wider. “Only when I don’t have anything better to occupy my time. I didn’t know you lived in my neighborhood.”

“I don’t.” You took a drink of your coffee. “I’m apartment hunting. My building is being sold and we’ve been given notice. They’re giving us lots of time, though, so I can be picky. There’s a couple places I’m going to look at later this afternoon.”

He slouched back in the chair a little, looking up and down the near empty street. “So, you plan on just sitting around until this afternoon?”

You grinned at his attempt to be nonchalant. “I’ve got my book, was going to meander around the shops, see what’s within easy walking distance, maybe find something good to eat. It’s important to get the feel for the lay of the land before making a move.”

“Have you, ah, had breakfast yet?” Steve bit his lip.

“No. Have any suggestions?” Damn, he was adorable.

“Yeah. There’s a diner not too far away that serves a really good breakfast. I could show you.”

“That’d be great.”

“Do you mind, um,” he glanced down at himself. “Do you mind if we swing by my place so I can clean up really quick? It’s only a couple blocks up.”

The image of Steve in the shower danced across your mind, and you had to mentally shake yourself. “Sure.”

Steve’s place reflected what you knew of the man. Uncluttered and masculine, the living room felt like someplace to relax and read. It lacked the normal collections of sentimental items, but a small pile of LPs leaned against a record player and a copy of ‘All the President’s Men’ lay on the coffee table with the place marked with a take-out menu. He dropped his keys onto a shelf and looked uncomfortable.

“I’ll, ah, just be a minute. I’ve never really had anyone over, but, um, make yourself at home.” He disappeared into the bedroom.

You sunk into what appeared to be his favorite chair, fighting the urge to poke around. Even if you’d wasted an exorbitant amount of time wondering about Steve’s private life, you respected him too much to take advantage of the situation. Besides, something about him inspired a stronger sense of propriety.

The sound of the water running drew your attention. Images of Steve in the shower flooded more than your mind. Shifting in the seat, you tried not to think about him soaping up and washing that amazing body under the hot water.

Ugh. You forced yourself to just stop it before you embarrassed yourself. Running hands over your face, feeling the warmth, you chided yourself. Steve could have any young woman he wanted. Being confident did not mean you weren’t a realist. There were prettier and younger women to be had.

Trying to shake the image of a naked Steve in the other room, you instead got up and examined his record collection. At first glance, they seemed to be in order by decade. Tommy Dorsey sat along side Bing Crosby and Sammy Kaye. Nat King Cole was followed by Tony Bennett and Elvis. Fewer represented later dates, a few Beatles albums, a Stevie Wonder greatest hits and a Led Zeppelin collection.

“See anything you like?”

You turned and you bit your lip against the first answer that popped into your head. Steve stood in blue jeans and a gray tee shirt. Shower fresh, hair still wet and combed back, he smelled amazing. Standing from the crouched position, you nodded.

“Yeah? What would that be?” Steve grinned, head tilted slightly, eye mischievous.

Damn it. He was flirting. You’d never known Steve Rogers to flirt. Your smile widened. “All of it.”

“Really? Even the hard stuff? It’s not all oldies.”

“Sure.” You buried your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and rocked on your toes. “Hard stuff is good. Oldies too. I even like the sappy, romantic licks.”

Steve’s tongue slipped out and moistened his full lip. “Y/N, that thing I was, ah, wondering about...” He took half a step forward. You had to tilt your head up to look into his eyes. “Do you think there’s any chance you might consider, um...” He took a deep breath before shaking his head and laughing lightly at himself. “I don’t know how this stuff is done anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Steve.” You placed a casual hand on his waist, but pulled it back right away. “Say what you want to say however you want to say it.”

He captured your hand in his own, inching even a little closer. “Be my girl?”

Your fingers entwined with his. “Me? You want to date me?”

The warm fingers of his other hand stroked your face, thumb ghosting over your lip. “Yeah. Very much.”

“Why?”

Steve’s eyes transitioned from surprise to confusion. “What do you mean ‘why’? You’re a smart, beautiful woman. You’re kind, even though I know life hasn’t always been kind to you. You make me laugh.” He sighed. “I don’t feel quite as lost when I’m around you.”

“Wow.” You breathed.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” He grinned.

In answer, you nodded and rocked up on your toes. His hand cradled your face as his lip touched yours. It began as gentle, chaste kiss. His other hand left your and pulled you closer. Your hands moved along his strong chest. A little moan escaped your throat. Steve deepened the kiss, tongues sliding and dancing against each other.

His forehead rested against yours, a giddy smile on his face. “I have wanted to do that for months.”

“Me too.”

A/N: More to come!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fic

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ceaderblocks · 5 years

Text

The Devil’s in the Details Ch. 6

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five //

Read on A03

Created alongside @thematrixmutual

Join the discord here!

Cub knew it was wrong. He <em>knew</em> helping Scar carry the AFK Xisuma to the End was wrong (was he really AFK?), and he knew Scar shooing him away to hide Xisuma screamed bad. But he did it anyways, because Scar was his best friend.

Except Xisuma had been missing for three days now, and Scar was adamant he didn’t remember helping with the prank. Scar was also avoiding everyone, working at night and skipping social activities to work on the strange black tower in the shopping district.

He was still working on the large black pillar in the shopping district when Cub flew by, determined to catch him in person. It looked almost finished, imposing and dark against the other shops. Scar was at the base, humming as he dug through some chests. The sun was setting, and the torches began to let off some light.

“Scar,” Cub said, and the other builder jumped, smacking his head against the chest lid.

“Oh! Cub!” Scar said nervously, rubbing his head. He avoided eye contact, choosing to look at his scuffed shoes instead.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” Cub said softly, placing a hand on Scar’s shoulder. He wasn’t wearing his jacket. “How’re you?”

“Busy as always,” Scar said, gesturing vaguely to the tower and still avoiding looking Cub in the eyes. Cub frowned.

“Are you okay, though?” Cub asked, concerned. Scar’s behavior was off.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Scar said, tugging on a pigtail nervously.

“You aren’t, though.” Cub said softly. “Scar, you’ve been acting strange lately.”

“Have I?” Scar frowned, looking concerned. “Guess I’m just tired.”

“Grian and False found both their bases aggressively terraformed, and they both said they hadn’t requested or paid for it. Black pillars have popped up all over the map. Jellie’s been sleeping at ConCorp. With me.” Cub said. Scar looked surprised at that final note, and finally looked at Cub.

Green eyes. Cub thought. Not blue.

“Is that where she’s been?” He asked, ignoring all the other points. “I was worried, I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Jellie never sleeps with me.” Cub continued. “Please Scar, tell me what’s wrong.”

Scar looked away again. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Cub.”

“Three days ago, you and I moved an AFK Xisuma from here to the End. He hasn’t returned, and you refused to let me know where you put him.” Cub said, and watched Scar turn from sadness to confusion to horror.

“Scar, something has been seriously wrong for a while, hasn’t it? Since we both fell into the Void a week ago?”

Scar bit his lip, on the verge of tears. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and nodded.

No jacket. Green eyes. Pigtails. Cub noted to himself.

“I’m really sorry Cub. Once I finish this build it’ll all go back to normal, I swear!” He said, and turned away, kneeling on the ground and re-opening the chest.

“Scar! Please!” Cub begged. He was so damn worried.

“Cub, I can’t-“ Scar suddenly fell quiet, doubling over and clutching his head for a moment before blinking rapidly and jerking upright, slamming the chest lid shut.

“Scar?” Cub asked, concerned. Scar turned to him, looking forlorn.

“Can we not talk about this?” He asked, an annoyed tone to his voice. He put a hand on Cub’s shoulder, leading him away from the tower. “Let’s do something else. Golf, maybe? We haven’t played golf in a while.”

“Scar-“ The grip on his shoulder tightened, and Cub fell silent, looking at his friend, panic leaping in his chest.

Blue eyes? Scar just had green eyes. What is going on?

“… Golf sounds great.” Cub finished, and Scar (this isn’t Scar) smiled, pulling his pigtails from his hair and re-arranging it into a ponytail.

“Super,” Scar said enthusiastically, pulling a rocket from his inventory. “Race you there?”

“Sure.” Cub said, hesitantly grabbing his own. “Should we invite some people to join us?”

“I think it’ll be a fun game between just you and I,” Scar said. “Besides, we haven’t gotten to have some quality time together in a while.”

“Right,” Cub said. “Of course.”

He needed to find out what was going on, and if he had to do it by being close to the enemy, so be it.

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The End was cold, as it usually was. Xisuma could usually spend lots of time in it just fine, but extended periods would even make the most well weathered Hermit a little chilly.

Xisuma was freezing.

Oscar had put him in Adventure mode, able to survive but not interact with most things. Xisuma had paced around the small cell, trying to get warm before realizing he was getting hungry and the Oscar hadn’t left him with food. He had then taken a few moments to figure out where he was. Xisuma came to the conclusion he was under an End Island, iron bars confining him to the small seven by seven block area. Oscar hadn’t left any food or water. Just Xisuma, his helmet and the emptiness of the Void. The doppelgänger had even taken his comm box.

“Bastard.” Xisuma had snarled, kicking an end stone through the bars and retreating to a corner to try and huddle and save body warmth.

That was a few days ago, now. Well, Xisuma thought it was a few days ago. Keeping track of time had never been a strong suit of his, and it was harder when there were no day cycles. It was also hard to focus when you were starving and freezing to death. He had stopped being nauseous from hunger a while back, the gnawing at the inside of his stomach taking second place to the violent shivers that wracked his body. He was exhausted but refused to fall asleep. Death had never bothered the Hermits before, but Xisuma was confident he wouldn’t wake up if he let his eyes shut.

A bright flash of white made Xisuma wince and weakly covered his eyes. Great. He was having hallucinations now. That’s cool.

“Finally.” A familiar voice said, and Xisuma uncovered his eyes, struggling to sit up. “It was terrible being banned. Nice of you to let me back.”

“Evil Xisuma?” Xisuma whispered, not willing to believe his eyes. There was his counterpart, dressed in red and stretching, seeming to not have taken notice of Xisuma quite yet.

“The one and only. Hey, where the fuck are we? The End??? God, you really didn’t want me to destroy the server if we’re all the way out here, huh.” EX said, touching his toes.

Xisuma was speechless. Evil X was banned. He shouldn’t be able to come back, let alone be summoned to him in this prison cell. This was definitely a hallucination. It had to be.

“Speechless, Xisuma? I know, it’s cause- oh shit,” EX said, finally looking at his counterpart. “Dude, you look terrible.”

Rushing to his side, EX helped Xisuma sit up and lean against him. Xisuma shut his eyes, dizzy from the lack of food and water.

“Fuck, Xisuma.” EX said. “You didn��t unban me, did you?”

“No,” Xisuma said. Evil X dug through his inventory for a moment before pulling out a water bottle and some bread.

“Here, start with this. Slowly.” EX cautioned. Xisuma tore a small chunk off the bread and nibbled on it. His stomach growled. He felt sick from eating.

“If you didn’t bring me here, who did?” EX frowned, looking around. “Are we in a prison cell?”

“I don’t know who brought you,” Xisuma admitted, swallowing some water. “And we are. Scar’s evil counterpart put me here.”

“Hey, he’s stealing my style.” EX said. “I’m supposed to be the only evil twin here.”

“He’s dangerous.” Xisuma cautioned.

“And I’m not?” EX said. Xisuma chose to take another bite of bread instead of answering.

“If you’re here, you’re probably stuck in adventure mode with me.” Xisuma said.

EX frowned, opening his inventory. “Uh, no. I’m in survival. I have some stuff from last time and- holy shit Xisuma!”

“What?”

“I have admin controls!” EX said, thrilled. Xisuma perked up.

“You do?”

“Yeah, look!”

Evil Xisuma threw open a command screen. Xisuma was shocked. How was this happening?

“I haven’t been able to access this shit since season one.” EX said, typing in some commands. /give <Xisuma> golden carrots [64].

Xisuma gaped in surprise as 64 golden carrots popped into his otherwise empty inventory.

“Hell yeah,” EX said. “Now I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“You need to help me,” Xisuma pleaded, grabbing onto Evil Xisuma’s arms. “Please, EX, the whole server is in danger.”

“You always say that when I’m around too,” EX snarled, looking unhappy.

“This is different.”

“How so?” EX asked.

“This evil version of Scar-“

“Oscar.” EX said.

“- right, Oscar, he's taking over the server by replacing Scar. He’s building towers everywhere and forcing the land in unnatural ways. You didn’t replace me, so- wait.” Xisuma stopped his explanation and struggled backwards, EX cocking an eyebrow.

“How do you know his name?”

“Because he spoke to me in the Void? Dude, we’re both results of Void death mis-happenings. He promised me admin powers if I came and helped him.”

Xisuma clenched his jaw. “And here you are with admin powers.”

“Yeah,” EX agreed, but he looked confused. “But I told him no. I thought you brought me back to help fuck him over or something. I’m not sure why I have admin abilities.”

“You gave that up?” Xisuma was rendered speechless for the second time.

“Hm?”

“You gave up being an admin and getting revenge on the server?”

“I’m not a dick,” EX snorted. “I just want a bit of mischief. Y'all are to uptight for your own good. Oscar’s a full-blown asshole. He wanted to ‘ruin everyones lives’ and ‘replace everything with death’ or whatever. Not my style. Anyways,” EX pulled up his command screens again.

/set gamemode creative <Xisuma> /give cheats <Xisuma>

Xisuma felt better instantly. The cold that had frozen his limbs dissipated, and the hunger gnawing at his insides left. He felt energized and alive for the first time in many days.

“Thank you,” Xisuma said. “Really, I mean it.”

“Can I ask a favour from you?” EX asked, suddenly looking very serious. Xisuma nodded, unsure once more.

“Let me live with you all- peacefully. And also let me kick Oscar’s ass.”

Xisuma snorted in laughter and smiled, sticking out his hand. Evil Xisuma took it, shaking it.

“Deal.”

#xisumavoid #xisuma #evil xisuma #scar #goodtimeswithscar #cub #cubfan135 #sorry for the late chapter yall #just started uni again lol #the devils in the details #ditd #we reaching that climax sooooon #olive writes

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freedom-shamrock · 5 years

Text

Two are Better, But Three is Best - Chapter Three

Also on AO3

<<< Previous Chapter

The second part of this chapter includes some sexy talk and implies sexual intent, but there is no on screen sex.

Please Stay

Marinette was a little surprised to hear voices from inside the apartment when she reached Luka's door. He hadn't mentioned company, and it was a little disappointing because she kind of wanted to pounce on him for a nice heavy makeout before they went out dancing. She knocked on the door.

"Come on in," Luka called.

She stepped across the threshold to find a scowly Adrien sitting on the couch next to her boyfriend. "Hey Adrien." She kicked off her sandals and scampered over to give both young men a hug. "You okay?" she asked, surprised when he continued to look frustrated. He was a people-pleaser, and it was in his nature to hide things rather than make people uncomfortable. That he wasn't concealing his feelings spoke volumes of how he felt here at Luka's or just how angry he was.

Adrien shrugged, slouching into the couch a bit. "My father's being a complete asshole." He rolled his eyes. "Even more than usual. Like, take his usual dickwad behavior and turn it up to eleven."

She winced. His language alone was a good indicator of how bad things were with Gabriel. "I'm so sorry. You don't deserve that at all." She gave him another hug, holding him a little longer this time. "Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head, his messy blond hair flopping about. "I have to make some pretty extreme decisions on how I want to deal with this, and… really, it's all on me to do that at this point. I've put it off way too long already." He looked at Luka. "Thanks for letting me vent, for listening. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime, Adrien," Luka promised with a slow nod. "And when you've decided what you want to do, let me know. Let us know. We're here for you, okay?"

Adrien's smile was small and hesitant, but it was genuine. "I will." He stood up. "Now I'll get out of your hair. I know better than to mess with date night."

Marinette giggled. "A fiend having a crisis trumps date night."

"Definitely," Luka agreed.

"That's really nice to know, but I'm good for now," he promised.

"You're not going to go out drinking, are you?" She gave him a stern glare.

Adrien shook his head. "Still not a drinker, Mari. If my father couldn't drive me to it, I suspect it's just not my thing" He sighed. "Oh, hey, I love the hair." He reached out and touched the strands of red she'd pulled up on the sides to create a colorful ponytail over the loose black hair. "It really suits you. Fun, but on your terms."

"Thanks," Marinette said with a laugh. The day they'd done her hair was a ton of fun.

"We did it last week," Luka added. "And it's been well received."

"I can see why." He leaned in and gave each of them another hug and a quick bise. "Catch you later."

Marinette grinned when she realized she and Luka were both watching him walk away with the same degree of interest. She waited for a few moments after the door closed before turning to her boyfriend. "He has an unfairly perfect butt."

Luka laughed and grabbed her in a hug that pulled her onto his lap. "Just one more thing we agree on. And those legs… hmmm." He nuzzled her neck. "He's gonna come hang out with me Tuesday afternoon when you're working that shift at the bakery. I think we're going to figure out his plan of action, once he's picked a path. You should come over when you're done and we can make him dinner or something. He needs supportive friends right now."

"Is his rebellion imminent?" she asked, leaning back to look at him.

Luka nodded. "I really can't see any way for him to get out of his current situation otherwise. He's tried the sensible adult options. He's tried talking to his… father. Ugh, such a repulsive man." He kissed her cheek. "But enough about Adrien. It is date night, after all, and I'm really excited about this."

"Maybe scale your expectations back a bit," she suggested. "I'm not that great a dancer. I love it, but…" She leaned into him to hold up her feet, her toes wiggling. "Two left feet."

Dancing with Luka was somehow both better than just making out, yet also ten times more frustrating. Neither of them were big fans of public displays of affection, so any grabbing or touching had to be extra subtle or extra sneaky, so she was both literally sweaty and completely hot and bothered when they finally stumbled out of the crowded club onto the sidewalk. They hadn't gone three meters when she stopped and grabbed him by the belt loops to pull him close. The only bad part of dating Luka was that he was so damn tall she couldn't kiss him without pulling him down, jumping, or literally climbing him, which she hadn't tried yet, though she was sorely tempted. Fortunately they were on the same page, and he bent to capture her lips with his.

His kiss seared through her, igniting the heat in her belly to explode throughout her entire body. She forgot about things like public decency or the lengthy walk home, focusing solely on the moment. When he broke the kiss, he didn't pull away. He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed, as his hot breath caressed her face in sharp pants. It was nice that he was as affected as she was. She slipped one hand into his hair, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Stay with me tonight," he asked softly. "Please Nette."

She shivered in delight at the thought that he wanted her. They'd had at least three conversations about sex in the last few weeks, agreeing to let it happen naturally without rushing or overly scheduling it.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to," he promised.

"What if I want to do… things ?" she asked, gently tugging at his hair. "What if I want to be the one to rock your world for a change?" She grinned when he gasped, closing his eyes. "Think you'd be up for that?" Chat Noir would laugh his tail right off if he ever learned that she'd propositioned her boyfriend with puns.

"Very much so," he sighed. He loosened his hold and stepped back, catching her hand when she did the same. "Let's go." They still had several blocks and a subway to catch. "And on the way, I think we should get creative to… sustain the mood."

She raised her eyebrows, looking at him in question as they walked faster than necessary down the sidewalk.

"Little things that aren't indecent, but… titillate," he suggested. "I can go first."

"Please do." She wasn't sure what he was looking for, and she did not trust her ability to provide dirty talk. At least not any that wouldn't result in laughter.

"That thing you did with my hair was super hot," he pointed out.

"Aaah. I've noticed that you like it when I play with your hair."

He nodded, pink washing over his cheeks. "Yeah, but that grabbing a fist-full and pulling on it, just a little? That's definitely a kink."

Ooh. So that's what he meant. "Did you know about this one?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nope. It's a new one for me, but I very much liked it and am happy to encourage a repeat later."

They slowed down a bit for the stairs to the subway. "I'll take that under advisement," she said. "Hey, did you know that you're like, ridiculously sexy when you dance?" She couldn't quite bring herself to try for special voice or anything, but her words alone were enough, and he stumbled a little on the last stair.

He was grinning stupidly, his lower lip trapped by his top teeth. "You think I'm sexy?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a look. "Obviously." She stepped closer to him on the platform. "Adrien's not the only one with an unfairly perfect butt." She loved watching the pink fill in his cheeks as his eyes went wide. "When we were dancing, there were a couple of times I brushed up against it entirely on purpose." The station was deserted, so the worst that could happen was a security guard would catch her copping a feel on video. She slid her hand up the outside of his thigh, before dragging her fingers around to grab his ass.

He let go of her hand to pull her close, his forehead resting on her shoulder. "You're too good at this. I think I'm going to die before we get back to my place."

She giggled, basking in the warmth and affection of his embrace. "I've seen you in shorts and without a shirt, and I have to tell you, I really like what I've seen. I'm looking forward to peeling away all your clothes when we get back to your place."

"Yeah?" he asked. "Then what?"

"I want to touch you everywhere, kiss you everywhere." She let out a startled squeak when his lips attached to the side of her neck. "Aah, you're not supposed to start that now, you know," she spoke in a soft breathy voice.

A gentle rumble warned them of the approaching train, and they stepped just enough apart to be decent. Once they were seated, side by side in a mostly empty car, Marinette snuggled up to him. Stretching up to breathe across his ear, she whispered to him. "So what's on your wishlist for tonight, Rockstar?"

He closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath. "If you'll let me, I want to make love to you." His eyes fluttered open and focused on hers. "I want to narrow your awareness to just me, worshiping your body. I want to make you lose all track of time and language as I tease and taste you, learning how you like to be touched to bring you to bring you over the edge."

She squirmed a bit, feeling uncomfortably aroused in the bright light of the subway. She was more than a little tempted to transform so she could get them back to his apartment right now. "I like your plan." She shivered.

"Oh, I'm not done," he said with a sly smile. "That's just the warm up, Nette."

"Oh my god," she whined. "If you don't knock it off, I'm going to pin you to the bed and fuck you stupid."

He chuckled. "I'm a fan of that idea, but not tonight. Tonight isn't about fucking. It's about loving." He ran one thumb under her jawbone as he slid his hand to cup her cheek. "If that's all right with you."

"Since you asked so nicely, I guess we can do it your way," she agreed. She pulled her phone out of her purse and sent a quick text home.

"What are you doing?" he asked, peeking at her screen.

"Making sure my parents don't worry when I'm not there in the morning," she said. They weren't still up, not with early bakery hours, and her message shouldn't wake them. And while they would probably suspect where she was, it was common courtesy to let them know.

"Is this going to make things weird with them?" he asked, sounding a little nervous.

"Hmmm?" She tucked away her phone. "Why should it? I'm an adult. They know I've been sexually active, and they much prefer I engage in relationship sex than one night stands." It was something they'd discussed as part of her decision to live at home through university. "It also helps that they like you; they haven't been fully on board with everyone I've dated." When they'd talked about past relationships, she'd been surprised to find that Luka had been in two long term relationships and had done very little casual dating. Her own experience had been a bit more chaotic and varied.

"I like your parents," he said. "It's nice you have such a good relationship with them."

She kissed his cheek. "I like your ma, too." She gave him a mischievous smile. "Am I going to have to worry about what she thinks of me, going home with you like this?"

He chuckled. "You know my ma. She's all about free love."

She felt the subway slow down. "Oh look. It's our stop." She grabbed his hand and pulled him, laughing, to the door as they were pulling into the station. "In the morning, I'm going to wear your clothes while I make breakfast."

He pulled her to his chest, leaning over her shoulder to breathe in her ear. "Do that, and I will interrupt you." He relaxed his hold on her as the doors slid open, then it was he who was urging her out of the train and to the steps.

She grinned at him as they walked swiftly, hand in hand. "I'll take that as a promise."

Check out Chapter Four >>>

This took several days longer than intended. I've kind of over-committed myself on paying projects, which is a good thing when you're a freelancer, but it can put a damper on fun projects. I have some family vacation and spring break coming up next week and hope to get the next chapter in during that.

⁂

If you’re so inclined, feel free to support me over on Ko-Fi

#Miraculous Ladybug #fanfic #my writing #Marinette #Luka #Lukanette #Adrien #Two are Better

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eorzeasntm · 5 years

Photo

ENTM Tumblr Cycle 11

Round Six: Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, and Legends from Around the World

Whew, that title is a mouthful, but we wanted to ensure that everyone had a chance to pick a story that had meaning to them. We had a tale from Japan, legends from England and Nicaragua, and a whole passel of Grimm’s tales to bring us full circle. The judges and the community all agreed that this week’s best fairy tale cosplay was:

Ni’ko Shae for Puss in Boots

The decision to go with a vertical shot showed off those long kitty legs to perfection, and the choice of an action shot in a dungeon (since this round was free style) let the story fully come to life. Congratulations!

Our guest judge this week was Momoko, the co-host of ENTM Instagram Cycle 2. Thanks Momoko! We did a full on judge swap so you can also check out my critiques for IG Cycle 2, Round Two on our Discord channel!

For the Tumblr models, your critiques for this week are below if you keep on reading.

Judge Momoko

Kota: I love your glam for this!! It really feels like a Hollywood take on what Little Red Riding hood would wear. It’s also very very easy to tell which fairy tale you’re showcasing, so big props to you!! The apples in the opposite corner to you help to add a couple more pops of red to the overall pic and help balance it.

Yomu: I hadn’t heard of this legend before, so first off, I wanna say thank you for teaching me something!! I thought your use of the Nanamo minion was so incredibly cute and creative!! I think the lighting was just a hair harsh on her, though, and we sort of lost all of the cute pink colors on her, but I also thought how you framed the upper half of the pic with bamboo was both a clever way to stay true to the legend and keep it from having too much empty space!!(It might take me a bit to send them all out today, ‘cause I’m at work, but I promise they’ll be sent today

Haila: This was such a fun entry!! I’d never heard of La Mocuana and had to read about it, but I loooooove monster girls and creepy folklore in general, so I’m so happy you went with it!! After reading about it, I think you fit the story to a T!! I love the expression and how it’s half-hidden, and the colors/filter really tell that you’re by yourself in a dark cave. I will say that your hair blended in a little too well with the background, but other than that, yours was so creative and fun!!

Peaceful: How creative!! I never would of thought of doing King Arthur, but you really nailed it!! It’s extremely easy to tell which legend you’re replicating. Your picture’s colors are a little dull and faded, which halfway lends to it, but it also makes it a little muddy. However, I think you adding that soft back lighting over your shoulders easily draws the viewer’s attention back to you, which was really clever!!

Adam: I think your choice in legend was really interesting!! There’s all sorts of aquatic-based stories, and I feel like Sinbad would be a little more difficult to convey, so props to you for choosing something challenging!! I wish I could’ve seen a more dynamic pose/more of the boat you’re standing on, but the soft muted colors in the background are such a nice combination with the yellow pop of your glam!!

Bria: Beauty and the Beast is my favorite story!! I really liked your glams and how the colors complimented each other. However, it is a little difficult to tell exactly which fairy tale you’re emulating without the title, and it’s hard to see who the specific model in the picture is. But I also thought that your garden courtyard background was a cute way to imply that you’re at a fairy tale castle!!

Luma: Your choice for your story was way too cute!! I never would’ve thought of doing Jack and the Beanstalk, but I’m so glad that you did!! I think that your choice of environment was super cute, creative, and resourceful!! My biggest thing was that I couldn’t see your face, and your glam colors blended a little too well with your background, but I also liked how unbalanced your picture was; it really helped showcase how giant that beanstalk was!!

Ni’ko- Yours was my most favorite picture!! Your glam was so cute (going for that monotone look to match your hair and tail was a really clever way to make yourself look like a cute tabby), and the boots!! THE BOOTS!! The way that you zoomed out the camera to help elongate your legs was such a clever way to bring focus to the main part of your legend in an almost cartoony way, which I’m a big fan of. I think that your weapon choice and overall color palette is extremely well-done, too!!

Judge Ona

Haila: I learned about this folktale when I took Spanish in High School. Our teacher was pretty twisted, but that’s why everyone loved Senora. I was super excited when Kat told the judges that you did this tale, and genuinely LOVE how you captured it! She hides her face and wanders the forests driven mad by betrayal. If you aren’t the vision of mad, I don’t know what is!

I love the color palette here. Sticking with blues, and only a hint of pinks, you create an eerie vibe. With the filter appearing almost translucent over you, it creates an illusion that you are actually the translucent one. The glamour choice is phenomenal. In the story it says she is dressed in silks, and this is extraordinarily flowy.

My only real critique is that I cannot see your entire body, and although the filter gives a spooky feel, I wish you could have found a cave entrance or a body of water or something to add to the background. Regardless of this, this shot totally encapsulates La Mocuana, and I am so glad you picked something from Nicaraguan culture.

Ni’ko: If you keep changing Ni’ko’s color I will never know who I am looking at.

However, Ni’ko, I love the choice here! I love how you did a non-human fairytale, where your race could be used to your advantage. I love how you are being showy with your pose, as Puss and Boots most definitely was. Sword up, foot pointed forward toward the front of the image and back hand outstretched as if you’re saying “is that all?”. I also LOVE that your glam looks like the humanoid version of the character we all know; it was an excellent choice to do a big jumpsuit instead of flashy armor.

The lighting is well placed, bringing the viewers eye to your face and the rapier, and the decision to battle such a big enemy was an excellent choice so as its size does not compete with you, because much of it lies just off screen from you.

My only real critique here, is that I wish you maybe had a smirk on your face instead of the blank expression here. A smirk would have conveyed that you are about to kick this monster’s behind, and you are a feline, not a knight. I still love this image and genuinely believe it is one of your strongest yet.

Peaceful: I love your choice of story. Sword in the stone, King Arthur before he was king! It’s a well-known tale, and it’s a strong story to try and cosplay. Unfortunately, you took a big chance and it didn’t quite pan out how maybe you envisioned. However, this image has many strong characteristics, and I would like to go over those for you.

First, your use of this emote or action, shows movement in your character. Bracing yourself to pull the impossible sword from solid stone. You have determination on your face and are focused on the sword. The choice of location lends to the story and is the perfect choice. I would try to avoid the large amount of deadspace in the upper right corner. I know you wanted to get Merlin in the shot, but I think you could have done without him, and closed further in on yourself.

Try next time to place a light on your face instead of the rock in the front, make sure to avoid dead space in the image, change the angle of the image so that its not an upskirt shot which often makes the physics of the clothes act funny, and be mindful of the background (that weird little purple light is very out of place. I think you have some very strong elements, and some weaker ones that you can work on for next week! Remember, you can ask Kat for advice and feedback before submitting.

Yomu: Yomu finds a tiny human in a tree and immediately believes that he may have had too much to drink.

The facial expression had me in tears. You are genuinely freaked out by what you have just found. Your emote here shows excellent action and I can feel the same startling feeling that this woodcutter is feeling! I am pretty sure anyone would feel immediate concern and confusion if they were in this situation.

I love the glamour here, as the story is Japanese in origin, the use of a Japanese style robe helps to place the story’s origin. I am a little concerned about the physics of the robe, however, as it falls slightly unnaturally. The spotlight on your minion is perfect, as the story talks of a shining girl 3 inches tall. Also, excellent choice of filter with particle. I do wish, however, there was a bit more blur to the minion, as this close of a shot lends to distortion and pixelization.

Overall this is a strong image and you do a wonderful job telling the story of the woodcutter. I would loved to have seen more of this story. Try to take into account depth of field, and physics next week. Thank you for also thinking outside of the box and giving us a story from Japan!

Judge Wulf

Bria, you and your costar’s outfits are very well color coordinated! Your location choice is also very appropriate, I feel, since that area of Idylshire gives off a very regal and proper feel. I am a bit concerned that you hair blocks your face! You’re the star of this photo, so make sure you’re the one we see the most of! Always remember: when working with a costar, make sure that they are there to support you and make you look good! That being said, I adore the chemistry between the two of you. Can’t wait to see next week’s shot!

Luma, I admire the lighting in this shot. I am a major fan of bright colors, and you’ve really made the greens, browns, and yellows all come together in this forest scene to make it look both awesome and welcoming all at once. Going with a vertical shot was also a very good choice, I believe, because it makes the “beanstalk” look much more large and imposing, and by contrast you come across much smaller! My main note is this: Since you’re kneeling down and facing away from the camera, you do kind of look a little cloaked in darkness upon first glance. This is a simple fix, though! Just make sure to light up your character a bit more! Once again, I’m really impressed by your concept this week!

Ni’ko, the story of Puss in Boots is one of those that I read over and over again as a kid, and I think you’ve captured a very nice look using the equipment and colors in game! The monster looming over you is also an amazing touch, as it makes you look small, and even more true to the tale! I’m very impressed with your shot this week, but if I had to nitpick, I’d say that it’s only a little off that you aren’t looking at the boss’s face, instead looking through them. Like I said, that’s only a small note though! Very good job this week!

Peaceful, I instantly knew this was the story of King Arthur! Using iconic imagery to give out key details of what you’re cosplaying in a very important part of any cosplay picture, and I’m glad you’re doing that here! The picture is...very dark though. It may be just my computer monitor, but I find it pretty difficult to see your face or other details about the picture. Could this be an issue with the filter? I’ll tell you where all the darkness does work, though: in the forest behind you. The darkness gives the forest a very spooky vibe, and I’m honestly a little unnerved! For the next week, make sure your character is well lit and visible. Good luck!

Judge Terrini

Adam: I feel underwhelmed by this shot. You're glamour does nicely call to an Arabic pirate, and there's the boat and water and distant shore but it doesn't really draw on the charm of the Legend of Sinbad. He was one of the early Swashbuckling archetypes and you seem very mellow in this pose. A more dynamic pose and angle would have been nice to see here, something swinging your sword or at least looking away from the camera would have been better to capture the sense of something more. This is a myth, a legend, so you want to capture people's imaginations like the story you're drawing from. Also watch your background composition when you go for something scenic like this. The weather condition colors everything to be rather samey and the sea and sky are both similarly rippled and plain so they come across as uninteresting to the eye. Play with angles and don't be afraid to drop things from your concept for the sake of better composition. Play with it.

Bria: This shot is very playful, and I do like the use of colors (love them blues and purples) as well as the fountain backdrop, but as a depiction of Beauty and the Beast it comes across as a reskin mashup of the Disney movie. It might have been nice if you had your guy wearing an ifrit mask or lion mask or something to up the beast factor, or perhaps went for a different scene from the story. When a competition is fierce, you've gotta push creativity to the limit and really be memorable.

Haila: I'm not familiar with the fairy tale you're spinning here, but still, I'm entranced. The effects and colors you've chosen with this pose tug at my heart, like you're despairing inside a storm of magic, struggling and pushing onwards. This must certainly have been a moving fable, and your depiction here makes me want to know more.

Kota: I love the colors captured in this shot, and your glamour is so cute! It's really spot on! Taking the picture by the Apple Trees in North Shroud was great to bring that touch of red into your background as well. The angle of the ground is a bit off-putting and it might be nice to have something more to the image on the ground to enhance the theme with more of a "path". There are some fences in that area too that you might have made use of to that effect. Overall, still a lovely shot.

Judge Nadede

Kota Tumet: This is a pretty good image from you this week. I knew right off the bat that you were Red Riding Hood without looking at the caption, so glamour and your setting did it’s job. I like the lighting that you have and very nice use of depth of field that you have going on there. Your composition I felt was nicely put together as well. I do find myself kinda wishing you were able to incorporate the wolf somewhere within your image as it seems like the only thing missing to make this feel truly complete. So far though, to me, this is your strongest image so far. Keep up the good work.

Yomu Kazul: I have to admit, yours was one of two stories I actually had to look up and read. After reading “Tale of the Bamboo Cutter,” I felt that you did a good job portraying the scene of the little girl popping out from the bamboo. The composition is nicely done and having the “little girl” looking at you helped at least guide my eye up to you and then back to her with you looking right at her. I thought it was a nice touch using Nanamo minion for the little girl instead of a lala as, if I remember reading right, the little girl was just a few inches or so tall when she pops out of the bamboo. So I applaud attention to detail there. My qualm however is when zooming out to get an overall view of the image, your foreground is a bit on the bright side and going back to where your face is in the image, it’s a bit on the dark side. I would suggest try to make the light to where it is a bit brighter towards you and not so bright closer to the audience. Overall, nice work.

Luma Lee: Luma, while I like the composition of your shot this week, the bottom part where you are at was hard for me to make out. I wouldn’t have thought Jack and the Beanstalk at all just from looking at your image because it was a bit muddled. After reading the description that you had chosen “Jack and the Beanstalk,” it made a bit more sense as to why there is an emphasis on the tree. What I’m having a problem with is that your lighting could use work, especially around your character. With you in the shadows and your outfit is the same color as your background, you blend in a bit too much. I also think a different filter would have worked in your favor as well. So far this is your best shot compositionally for me, just work on the lighting a bit more. Good job.

Adam Evershot: While this is a nice shot for you Adam, I felt like you could have done more with the story of Sinbad. I find myself wishing that perhaps you could’ve brought in extras to help you with a “crew” of some sort or brought some part of the story to life. I do find the atmospheric lighting of your image nice, I do wish that you could have done a bit more with the lighting on your character to bring you out just a bit more. Just remember when doing a cosplay type shot to find a way to bring out the story of that character more. Overall good work.

#ffxiv #ffxiv screenshots #entm #eorzea's neo talent management

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goldenchildkatsuki · 6 years

Text

Teeth

Day 1 of @kacchako-week : New Beginnings

Kacchako Week x JJ’s SIp (Song Inspiration Project)

Writers Note: This is the long awaited Song Inspiration Fic inspired by song Teeth by xxxtentacion. I decided to combine my Song Inspiration Project with (the first day of) Kacchako Week 2018. Enjoy.

I’ve started a new project everyone! I’ve decided to write fics based on my current favortite songs. Music has always inspired me a lot when writing and has cured so many writer blocks. I feel like my writing is just a little bit better when I have a specific song or lyric in mind. Well, now let’s see how this goes.

Teeth by xxxtentacion

I remember your smell when I touched you

How you used to talk to me

It all hurts so much now

Meaning

XXXTENTACION is singing this song about his breakup with his girlfriend, and what he is feeling about relationships.

Word count: 4.642

Beta Reader: @wishgnee

AO3 link: (x)

“Speak up. Speak the fuck up.”

Usually, Bakugou knew how arguments like this would end, but now he didn’t have a single clue. His harsh words didn’t seem to faze her Uraraka. She seemed exhausted. She was pale, with dark circles under her empty eyes.

It had been so long since she had said anything. Uraraka had left Bakugou going off on a rampage, swiping books of his desk and throwing things, all that whilst yelling on top of his lungs.

The silence made Bakugou panic and made him even more frustrated, angrier than he intended to be. He even started to scare himself, not being able to think twice about what he was going to say or do.

If only she just said something.

He was hurting and she didn’t want to see that. She wasn’t allowed to look so sad. She pissed him off, agitated him, annoyed him, pushed his buttons.

“Why can’t you just apologize. For once, don’t make this my fault. Make another broken promise. I will believe them. Kiss me to make everything right. I would kiss you back.” Bakugou thought to himself.

“I’m sorry but I don’t want to do this anymore.” Uraraka said.

Bakugou wished she had stayed silent.

“What did you say?” Bakugou stammered.

“I don’t want to this anymore. You want me to do the impossible.”

“Is taking some distance so hard for you? In what fucking world is not acting so overly friendly with that god damn nerd impossible? Is listening to me, for once, so fucking hard for you? Impossible my fucking ass.”

Bakugou knew it was impossible

“He’s my best friend.”

“Then fucking act like he is.”

“You exhaust me.”

“So do you.”

Bakugou knew deep inside that he shouldn’t start arguing again. Why push her even further away? But at that moment, not being at fault was more important than making her stay.

“Then I suggest we won’t exhaust each other anymore.”

She didn’t apologize. She didn’t promise anything. She didn’t kiss him.

She ended it.

Bakugou was lost for a while. It was hard to remember what he liked to do when he was alone. He didn’t know who to talk to when he wanted to share his thoughts. He didn’t even know where else to look in class.

Each day, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She had started to look different, in a good way. She looked healthy again and much more energetic. She didn’t doze off in class anymore. Uraraka actually paid attention and could answer almost every question right she got called out for. She was back in her element.

The world kept turning for her.

For her, everything was back to ‘normal’. She still had things she loved to do, she still had the same friends she could talk to anytime she wanted. The only thing she didn’t have was anything to do with Bakugou and she made that obvious. Uraraka barely looked at him.

Bakugou had tried so hard to accept their situation, despite not wanting to. It had been one of the most difficult things he had ever done.

He was convinced that she still loved him. After all, Uraraka had never said she stopped loving him.

He kept clinging on to the idea that sooner or later her heart will take over her mind and she would come back.

Despite that bit of hope, Bakugou had eventually came to terms with his pain.

Bakugou came to understand himself. In the end, he didn’t blame her for leaving. He knew it was all him. He would like to tell her that. H wouldn’t know how to phrase it, nor did he know if he could ever build up enough courage to look her in the eye again, but he would like to tell her.

But Uraraka wouldn’t let him, and there’s no telling if she ever would.

“Bakugou.”

Bakugou lifted his head from his hand. “Hah?”

Bakugou looked around the classroom. Everyone was staring at him. Not with their usual grin they had on their faces when someone got called out for not paying attention, but with open mouths and wide eyes.

Aizawa sighed. “Can you rephrase that?”

“I wasn’t paying attention Sensei. Sorry?” Bakugou groaned.

Aizawa nodded and looked at his papers. “I assigned you and Uraraka to work on the project together. Now start paying attention.”

Bakugou could feel the wide eyes burning holes in him. He wanted everyone to drop dead right that second. He aware how bad the situation was. It’s not like the words weren’t like a kick in the gut. His whole body was aching.

Bakugou carefully made himself small so less eyes could burn holes in him. Forcing the ache to compress into one center point in his body, he hoped the pain would dissolve into nothingness.

The class was vocal. They all talked like the two people involved weren’t even in the room.

Bakugou gripped the fabric of his pants and dug his nails into his thighs. They were loud. They were so goddamn loud.

“Oi! Is there a problem? If so, then you can each come up and announce it to the rest of the class!” Aizawa raised his voice.

The class fell dead silent.

“Uraraka, are you opposed to working with him?”

Bakugou could feel his heartrate strangely slowing down. His chest became as quiet as the rest of the class. Is this was it felt like to literally die from embarrassment?

“I’m not opposed to working with Bakugou.” Uraraka answered from the other side of the classroom.

Bakugou could hear the tiniest gasps leave the mouths of some of his classmates. He couldn’t blame them.

He hadn’t heard her say his name in ages. He imagined hearing it again for the first time right after the words “I love you” had left her mouth. It would sound soft and warm and his name wouldn’t have sounded any better than it did in that moment.

But instead his name sounded like a stranger’s name.

Aizawa turned to Bakugou. “Bakugou, are you opposed to working with Uraraka?”

Bakugou felt his ace to growing back and spreading like a rash. He wished he could hang on to the fact that Uraraka didn’t mind working with him and that there was a chance she wasn’t lying about it.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop hearing her say his name in that certain way.

“Sure.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. Bakugou sighed and it took all of him to rephrase the sentence.

“I have no problem working with Uraraka.”

The teacher groaned and put his papers on his desk. He picked up his yellow sleeping bag off the ground, stepping in and zipping himself up.

“Now all the partners have been assigned my work here is done. This project is due Monday. I’ll fail you if it’s simple or dull.. Dismissed.” Aizawa slumped on to the floor and closed his eyes, seeming to have fallen asleep way too easily for all the commotion that immersed after his closing words.

Several people in the class stood up and hurried towards their partner, panicking potentially failing the class due to their lack of creativity. Some brainstormed few suggestions, others immediately put their schedules together and made appointments. Everyone was busy, trying to make the most of a project that Bakugou didn’t pay that much attention to, to completely understand.

Through the commotion Bakugou looked over at Uraraka. They were the only ones left in their seats. She was biting on her favorite pen, which meant she was overthinking. At least she had stopped biting her nails.

He thought about how he used to kiss her hands and fingers. How she wouldn’t get embarrassed anymore because she wasn’t ashamed of her short fingernails. The idea alone made him hot in the face.

Just before wanting to avert his gaze, Bakugou noticed Uraraka was looking back at him. She didn’t know what her eyes were saying to him. She’d become harder to read as the days went by. Of course he could clearly tell when she was excited, frustrated or focused. Now, with her reciprocating his gazes, it was hard to tell what she was thinking.

After a while, she blinked away and looked up to the ceiling.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?” Bakugou whispered to himself.

He watched Deku and Iida approach her. Uraraka became all smiles in an instant, happily conversing with them.

It made Bakugou sick, seeing that nerd make her face light up. Deku was a constant reminder of his lack of confidence in himself, and how big of an idiot he was to throw those issues onto his girlfriend.

“Dude, you alright?” Kaminari was leaning against the side of Bakugou’s desk.

Riddled with hate, Bakugou glared at Kaminari and tipped his desk, making him slide off. Kaminari laughed it off and jumped on the desk in front of him.

Bakugou hated to admit it, but he’d actually grown fond of the idiots that kept wanting to be his friend. Kaminari, Kirishima, Sero and Ashido had specialized themselves in translating Bakugou’s raging and cursing into emotions beyond anger. They had been the first ones to witness him rage and curse about not understanding what he felt for Uraraka. And they had also been the first to see Bakugou so distressed about the girl that he was past the point of raging and cursing.

Bakugou tried to open up to them every once in a while, in his own way. He didn’t like it, but he owed his friends that much for trying to take care of him and worrying so much.

“I’ll live.” He watched Kaminari’s legs dangle off the desk.

“I know you will. It’s just a project. It might kick our grade into an early grave but still; just a project.”

Bakugou smirked. “Speak for yourself. My grade isn’t on life support unlike yours.”

Kaminari gripped his jacket and pretended to collapse backwards on the desk. “I felt that one dude, I felt that one.” He moaned. Very like him, he made himself laugh. Out of breathe, Kaminari pushed himself upwards again and fixed his hair.

“Anyways, we wanted to go to the cafeteria early today so we can get a spot in a less busy area. Are you coming?”

In the corner of his eye Bakugou saw Uraraka stand up from her desk and getting ready to leave the classroom with Deku and Iida.

Bakugou had to say something to her. He couldn’t just sit there like an idiot the whole time whilst everyone else had everything sorted with their partner. He had overthought what to say to her exactly, but nothing sounded right to him. Thinking that Uraraka would give him enough time to think about things like that was foolish in the first place.

Bakugou picked up his bag and stood up. Uraraka was already leaving the classroom.

“I gotta do something.”

Kaminari followed Bakugou’s gaze and nodded. “Right, we’ll save a seat for you, man.”

Bakugou started rushing out the classroom, pushing through his classmates. Bakugou saw the trio walking down the hall, excitedly talking and laughing as they always did.

He needed time to think how he would approach her, but they were almost out of sight. Instinctively, Bakugou started running up to them.

The sudden, fast footfalls made all three of them turn. Deku and Iida frowned when seeing him. For the first time Uraraka had a distinctive expression on her face when seeing him. She seemed a little surprised.

“You guys can go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

Deku leaned in. “Are you sure, Uraraka?”

Bakugou couldn’t help but grit his teeth. He hated how Deku made him feel like the bad guy with the blandest comments. What could he possibly do or say to her now to hurt her? Bakugou’s aware he’s done that enough.

They were just partners, working on a stupid project. That’s all that it was about. Bakugou aimed that thought at Deku, but also at himself, trying to calm down.

Uraraka waved her hand in front of them and smiled. “Of course! In a bit okay?”

Iida and Deku smiled endearingly back at her and continued walking to the cafeteria.

Uraraka tucked strands of hair behind both of her ears and stared into Bakugou’s eyes.

He felt like combusting right on the spot. She was waiting on him to speak but he lost every single opener he had thought of. He was started to feel more choked up by the minute, as the hallway had started to fill up with people. People started to bump into him and push past him.

“The project. When do you…When are we going to work on it…you know, the project?”

Uraraka spun a ring around her pinky finger with her thumb. She spun it around her finger four times before answering him.“Tomorrow morning, 10:30, at your room, I’ll bring supplies. See you then.”

She turned around and left without any confirmation, merging with the mass in the hallway. She left Bakugou standing there like an idiot, with a blank face and the corners of his mouth left twitching upwards.

The rest of the day Bakugou kept mouthing the words ‘ten thirty’ to himself, not knowing he was scaring everybody around him. He made mental to-do lists, trying to remember what he needed to put away, or what he should get before she would enter his room again after a month or so.

More than a month ago, his room had turned into their room. Uraraka left her sweaters, books, earrings, gum, nail polish, scrunchies and 60 cents in his room. He still hadn’t cleaned up what she hadn’t collected. Everything had stayed exactly as she left it.

He couldn’t put her things away. He tried to, several times. But his room looked a empty without all her junk. So he chose to casually avoid every penny, scrunchy and bottle of nail polish he had found, pretending that it was supposed to be there, and not in a box.

He had thought about Uraraka every single day, but he only allowed himself to think about her five times a day.

That day, he thought about her seventeen times.

He reminisced the past and panicked about what was to come. And what was about to come was getting scarily close.

Fourteen hours before she would come see him again, he tried to sleep.

Eleven hours before she would come and see him he woke up from a bit of sleep drowned in a cold sweat.

Six hours before she would come and see him, he gave up on getting a decent amount of rest.

Three hours before she would come over, he started checking things of his to-do lists.

Two hours before she would come over, Bakugou had already thought eight times about her.

Thirty minutes before she would come over, he heard a knock on his door.

Bakugou lifted his head from math textbook where he had been staring into for too long. He had tried to get ahead on his homework, but his eyes kept lingering on the questions, reading them but not understanding them.

Another knock, this time more impatient, sent Bakugou flying off his chair and towards the door.

Bakugou looked back on his clock. Uraraka was early as per usual. She was early for everything, barely looking at the clock when preparing to go somewhere. It’s like she felt the time. Bakugou had always found it annoying, but then he couldn’t help but smile.

A mixture of excitement and nerves filled his body and made him feel nauseous. In his head he drew character for courage and paid attention to his breathing, trying to control his heartrate.

“Bakugou?” a muffled sound came from the other end of the door.

One more time he drew the character of courage before opening the door.

When seeing her standing there in front of him, Bakugou realized that no matter how many times he drew the character for courage, her presence would leave him stunned to the core. Losing the ability to speak up or move.

Uraraka looked lovely. The color of her hoodie suited her. Her skirt was flirty and flowy and she wore pink socks that were decorated with lace. She had her hair in a bun, something she had started to do more often. Her heavily stuffed, pink schoolbag was held in one hand, thumb spinning her ring around the finger of her other hand.

“You’re early.” Bakugou thought to say.

“Am I?” Uraraka tried to look over Bakugou’s shoulder to check the time.

Bakugou stepped aside and gestured for her to enter his room. Uraraka entered inspecting the place. He knew that she was looking for things that had changed since the last time she had been there. Nothing was different, the room was just less messy. It was more or less the way she left it. He hoped she would feel familiar again and feel comfortable in an unusual situation.

“You are. I’m not surprised though. You used to be late to everythi-“

“-I’ve got everything you could possibly find in a supply store; markers, glue, glitter, you name it.” Uraraka started unpacking her back and laying everything out on his floor.

Bakugou wanted to put his head between the door and smack the door closed. How has he managed to make her feel awkward so early on?

The one thing he wanted to refrain from; was bringing up the past. This was a perfect opportunity to tell her that he had come to terms with the past, saw his mistakes, adjusted, and that he knew it was all him.

He couldn’t do that if he kept opening old wounds. Uraraka would feel uncomfortable, close off completely and no matter what he would say, it wouldn’t reach her. She wouldn’t want to hear it, or she wouldn’t believe it.

“Right.” Bakugou closed the door and kneeled down on the opposite side of Uraraka, the supplies she laid out creating a distance between them.

Uraraka glanced up for a second and then went on with arranging her supplies in satisfactory positions. In complete silence Bakugou watched her opening marker cases and trying to wipe glitter off her hands.

“Maybe you should start coming up with a few key points for the essay.” Uraraka broke the silence.

She didn’t even look at him.

Bakugou nodded, grabbed his notebook of his desk and took a pen from Uraraka’s pencil case.

Of course the pen was chewed on. Bakugou clicked the pen several times before pressing it down on his paper, then he realized he didn’t have a single clue what they were supposed to do.

Uraraka sat with a leg propped up and her head laying on her hands that were resting on her knee. Her eyes went back and forth, from her pen to Bakugou’s face.

“You have no idea what we’re supposed to do, do you?”

“How the hell can you tell?”

“Because if you knew what we were doing you would’ve had about ten things written down by now. I think.”

Bakugou got flustered, throwing down his notebook and pen.

Uraraka sighed and a she let a small smile creep up on her face. “Sensei wants us to work on analyzing, giving feedback and reflecting. He wants us to make a poster of each other in hero costume.

“In the poster you need to explain why you think your partner has added particular things to their hero costume. That’s the analyzing part. You also need to write a two page essay where you mention your partner strengths, weak points and tell them how to tackle their weak points. That’s the feedback part. Lastly you also describe the last time you’ve worked together, how you handled your partners weak points and what you would do differently when handling them. That’s the reflection part. That also needs part of the two page essay.”

Bakugou brought his index finger and thumb to his chin. Being creative was not going to be that big of a problem. Besides that, he knew Uraraka quite well, as a person and as a heroine. The project itself wasn’t going to be much of a struggle, but Bakugou wasn’t prepared to be confronted by someone whose opinion he valued very highly.

“Do you understand the project?” Uraraka asked whilst getting out her own notebook. “To be honest, I don’t think we have to be together for this one. I think you could’ve easily done this on your own. Maybe it’s so we don’t get the costumes wrong or to discuss some things, like the last time we worked together, I don’t know. I actually have a hard time thinking of the last time we worked together, maybe that one time where…I’m sorry, I’m rambling.” She started scribbling down things in her notebook.

“If you didn’t think it was necessary to be in one room for this one, then why are you here?” Bakugou’s curiosity took over and it didn’t make him think twice about asking things that would make her feel uneasy.

Uraraka leaned her head closer on her notebook, her nose almost against the paper, making it hard for her to continue writing.

“You can’t draw, and you often forget to take your notes out of your essays. I figured I had to help you with that.” Uraraka mumbled.

Bakugou was ready to feel offended, ready to tell her that he knew he wasn’t Picasso but he could sure could draw. But he started to realize that he should probably stay silent, considering the fact Uraraka had basically buried her face in her notebook.

He took one of the large pieces of paper Uraraka brought and traded Uraraka’s pen for a pencil. He wanted to start with her face.

Every single line he drew didn’t feel good. Bakugou had to look at her, after deciding that his memories weren’t accurate enough. But he didn’t dare ask her to look up for him. He was convinced his heart would skip too many beats and would eventually stop.

So much for ‘courage’.

Bakugou blinked, feeling himself getting cross eyed staring at the paper for so long.

“I can’t fucking draw.”

“I know.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bakugou asked, getting slightly frustrated.

“I’m not looking at you so I can imagine it’s hard for you to draw me. I’m sorry but I really want to write down these key points for the essay. I suggest you do the same for now and when I’m finished we can start working on the posters.”

Again, it was like she was in Bakugou’s head. It was unfair, that she could read him like a book and that to him her whole face was a mystery. It was unfair that she was handling this situation very well. It was unfair that she had the obvious upper hand here and what seemed to be an opening was starting to look like another closed door.

Bakugou picked up his notebook. He split the page in half, writing ‘strengths’ and ‘weaknesses’ above the page. His pencil hovered under the word ‘strengths’ for a while, after some thinking he finally started writing down words. It didn’t take him long to stop thinking actively. The words flowed out of his pencil he had written it down before. Like he was writing down a story he heard a million times before. The one half of the page was filling up quickly, words gradually getting smaller to fit everything in on one page.

“I can’t write.” Uraraka said after a while.

“I know.” Bakugou smirked.

Uraraka stuck her pen in her messy bun and shifted towards Bakugou.

“What did you write?”

Bakugou closed his notebook. “I don’t think we’re meant to share that with each other.”

Uraraka bit her lip and looked off to the side. “I’ll get to read it sooner or later. Also, I hate the fact that you have written so much down whilst I can’t word anything right. So therefore, I want to know what you wrote.”

She was still as honest and direct as she always was. He still admired that about her. With her curious eyes and because she was so close, she could still make him do anything she wanted.

Bakugou opened his notebook.

“Strengths: The biggest strength of Uraraka Ochako is her cooperativeness. She’s a hero that is willing to and actually can work with anyone who she’s assigned to. She’s kind to everyone, but doesn’t let her kindness get in the way of her professionality.

“Uraraka has become very goal-oriented over these past months. She doesn’t lack motivation, and she’s also very good at motivating others. She’s always ready to improve and try new things. She’s confident, even when it comes to things outside her comfort zone. She shows a lot of empathy which is a good trait to have when trying to calm down citizens in a time of crisis.

“Over these past few months she has also managed to stay focused for long periods of time. Now she’s very good at paying attention to her surroundings and predicting the next move of the enemy. She’s always tries to go beyond her limit, and that might also be one of her weaknesses. But still, she’s an excellent hero.”

When Bakugou finished reading Uraraka had turned her face away. Her cheeks had turned from rosy to bright red. A hand covered her obvious smile.

She still didn’t know how to take compliments.

“Thanks.” She mumbled from behind her hand.

Bakugou looked at the other half of his page. It was blank. But he continued. He had to take his chance. She was finally listening.

“Weaknesses.” Bakugou hesitantly continued. “Uraraka Ochako only has a few weaknesses. First of all, she isn’t always honest with herself and others. I’m convinced she’s still in love with me, but she won’t tell me. This is like torture. I recommend her telling me if I’m right.

Second of all, her face might not be easy to read but her body language and mannerisms are not too hard to read. That’s why I’m convinced she’s still in love with me, because she still spins her ring around her finger when you’re talking to me. That’s exactly what she did every time she told me she loved me. I would recommend she becomes aware of this.

Bakugou glances at her before he concludes his list.

“Lastly, you close yourself off. You haven’t given me the chance to tell you that I understand you. Completely. I understand that I was an ass, an unreasonable ass that was tiring you out. I only have my own lack in confidence to blame for what happened between us. I understand now. I promise I do. I would recommend letting me tell you that sooner. That’s all I got.”

Bakugou threw his notebook and pencil on the ground. This was the best thing he could’ve done. His body seemed to think otherwise. His heart wanted to jump out of his chest. His body temperature raising to what felt like a dangerous level. His hands didn’t know what to do, where they should be placed.

“Damn it.” Uraraka chuckled.

“Damn it.” She repeated. Her chuckle turning into a soft cry. She turned back to face Bakugou properly.

Bakugou didn’t know what to do. All the alarms in his body were going off and stopped him from moving.

‘Get closer to her!’

‘Comfort her!’

‘Do something you fucking idiot!’

Bakugou thought to himself.

“You’re really good at this.” Uraraka smiled through her tears. With her thumb she pushed the silver band around her pinky once more. “I’ll have to take your feedback to heart.”

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 6 years

Text

Falcon of Detroit (DBH Connor Fanfiction) Chapter Ten

~Phoebe's POV~

Connor turned his full attention to me and I awaited to see what all he knew about me. "You graduated two years ahead of your class in college due to excellent performance and grades at Penn State. After graduation, you moved to Detroit. At the age of twenty-two, you became the youngest detective in all of Michigan. A few months after your instatement with the DPD, you solved your first case and placed one of Detroit's most dangerous serial killers in jail—Benjamin Atkins, or well-known as the Woodward Corridor Killer."

(Benjamin Atkins is a real serial killer from Detroit. He died in 1997, but let's just say he's alive and in jail in 2038.)

After the arrest, you and the Lieutenant became partners and you both have worked together since."

"You sound like a walking Wikipedia," I commented out of the blue.

"I did my research before CyberLife assigned me to be your partner and the Lieutenant's," Connor confesses. His neutral expression suddenly changed serious. "I'm... sorry about your parents, Phoebe."

"Don't be. They were killed when I was in high school."

"What happened?" Hank asked.

"Well, my parents were coming home and crossing one of the bridges in Pittsburgh. A drunk driver hit them and their car went over the side of the bridge. They didn't make it out of the car and drowned."

"Now I know why you never told me..." Hank sorrowfully sighs. "I'm sorry for asking.”

"Don't worry about it. That was twelve years ago."

Suddenly, Connor's LED changes to yellow. "I just got a report of a suspected deviant or rogue. It's a few blocks away. We should go have a look."

"You better eat faster, Hank, or we're leaving you behind," I tease.

"Just give me a few minutes and then we'll go," Hank said, taking a huge bite out of his hamburger and then another.

"Don't choke yourself!" I scolded.

He waved me off, taking another bite and washing it down with a swig of soda. I shook my head in disbelief and followed Connor to the car.

-A Few Minutes Later-

Just as Hank promised, he finished his burger in record time and drove us to an apartment building that appeared to be in poor condition. We rode the elevator to our destination and stepped off. When Connor wasn't following us, Hank and I exchanged confused glances. "Hey, Connor!" The man bellows, his eyes falling back on him. The android opened his eyes, meeting our muddled expressions. "You ran outta batteries or what?"

"I was making a report to CyberLife."

"Uh, well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?"

"No! I'm coming."

The android exited the elevator and walked beside me as we meandered down the dusty, dirty hallway. Hank led the way, questioning who our target was. "What do we know about this guy?"

"Not much. Just that a neighbor reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor."

"Who the hell would live in this dump?" I scoffed, staring at the junk that littered the hallway.

"Nobody's supposed to be living here, but the neighbor said he saw a man hiding a LED under his cap," Connor answered.

Hank groaned. "Oh, Christ. If we have to investigate every time someone hears a strange noise, we're gonna need more cops."

I nodded in agreement. "Preach."

We reached the door at the end of the hallway and Hank leaned against the wall beside it. "Hey, were you really makin' a report back there in the elevator? Just by closing your eyes?”

"Correct," the android responds, positioning himself in front of the door.

"Shit. Wish I could do that."

"I'm more of a 'write-down-everything' kinda girl," I commented.

"What about essays?" Hank inquired.

"Hell yeah! I'm more creative with a pencil in my hand than typing on a keyboard."

"So that's why you still write your reports by hand."

Connor knocked on the door, ending our conversation. "Anybody home?" The machine knocked louder and harder. "Open up! Detroit Police!"

Hank laid a hand against his concealed pistol as we heard the sound of scuffling from the other side of the door. "You both stay behind me."

"Got it," Connor and I answered in unison.

The Lieutenant drew his pistol and kicked the door in. It flew open, the strong stench of fecal matter slapping us in the face. I winced at the horrid stench as the three of us entered the apartment. Hank holstered his pistol with a growl. "What the fuck is this?!" The entire apartment, minus the small rooms, were swarmed with pigeons. The birds were pecking at the floorboards and I assumed it was food they were eating. "Jesus, this place stinks..."

"Thanks for the info, Captain Obvious," I playfully saluted the man.

The three of us searched the apartment. Connor and Hank checked the living room and kitchen while I searched the small bedroom. With no clues, I wandered to the living room and heard Hank complaining. "Uh, looks like we came for nothin'. Our man's gone."

"Not possible. The only exit is the front door. The windows are either partially boarded up or entirely blocked off. Our man is hiding and I bet he can hear us," I stated.

Connor suddenly tore a poster off the wall and revealed a notebook. He flipped through the pages before closing the leather-bounded object. Hank peered at the android when he saw the item in his hand. "Found something?"

"I don't know. It looks like a notebook, but it's... indecipherable."

"May I see it?" I ask. Connor hands the notebook over and I flip through the pages. The symbols inside seemed to resemble large mazes with no signs of an entrance or exit. It was the same image I saw painted in the bedroom. Turning the page, I found a symbol that seemed familiar.

It resembled a key and I remembered where I had seen it before. I pulled out my phone, catching Hank and Connor's curiosity. "Phee, what are you looking up?"

"The newspaper from a few months ago when the first rogue appeared. This symbol..." I showed them the page while my eyes were scanning my search results. "I saw it in the picture that went with the article." I finally found what I was searching for and showed them. "The rogue used the blood from his victim to create it. Then, it was killed by police just after it finished drawing this symbol."

"It's possible the symbol is linked to Amadeus," Connor concludes.

"That's exactly what I was thinking, but... the symbol has only appeared in the first rogue case. The number of corrupted androids has increased since this incident, but this symbol has only appeared once."

"Is it possible we're dealing with a rogue?" Hank inquired.

I shook my head. "No. If we were, the android wouldn't be hiding right now. Rogues love confrontation and bloodshed. Deviants, on the other hand, are the complete opposite."

"I will check the bathroom," Connor announces, walking into said room.

Hank and I remained in the pigeon infested living room/kitchen area, both of us spotting the box of bird seed on the counter. I picked up the empty box and saw the logo of the store from where the android had purchased the feed. "Definitely a deviant. Rogues wouldn't go through the trouble of buying anything. And no human would welcome this many pigeons in a small apartment."

"Not surprised it was an android. No human could live with all these fuckin' pigeons," Hank stated.

Connor returned from the bathroom and told us he found a LED on the sink and the same maze-like drawings on the wall along with ra9 written over two thousand times.

"We found nothing new out here, except for a small pile of books on the shelves beside the closet. Sadly, none of them hold crucial information," I informed the android.

"Real books... I thought Phee and I were the last people in Detroit to keep some. Electronic books, you can't... smell the paper, see the pages turning yellow." Hank fell silent when Connor didn't react to his words. The man found his voice again and sighed. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Hardly doubt Connor would have an idea. He's only been in working condition for a few months and hasn't really explored the old ways. The only reason I still have physical copies is because I love the feel of turning each page. You can't get that same satisfaction with all this digital shit. And, you don't have to worry about charging a book or it not working."

"Ain't that the truth," Hank smiled.

Connor's eyes suddenly narrowed as he approached a hole in the ceiling. There was no light, making it difficult to see inside the cranny. As he was directly under the hole, the android we've been searching for tackles Connor and makes a quick escape, stirring up the pigeons as he dashed out of the apartment. "Connor, go after him! We'll be fine!" I shouted over the obnoxious sound of wings flapping.

The machine nodded and snappily took chase. Hank and I exited the apartment after the horde of pigeons had settled. I glanced down the hall, eyes glued to the decrepit wall. "I know what you're thinking, Phee," Hank said.

"We'll try to cut the deviant off and help Connor catch him."

"How're we supposed to know where the hell those two are?"

"Random selection. Let's go!"

"Hey! Don't push yourself! You've already torn your stitches once!"

"I'll be fine! We've got a deviant to catch!"

The two of us ran through the streets. We caught small glimpses of Connor and the deviant as they ran across the rooftops. Hank and I decided to ascend one building and saw the deviant coming straight towards us. The man quickly pushed me aside as the machine grabbed him and pushed Hank over the ledge of the building. The Lieutenant grabbed the ledge before he could fall to the ground below. "Hank!"

Just then, Connor arrived and assisted Hank before I could react. As I saw the deviant getting away, I quickly chased after him. A few seconds later, I heard the Lieutenant shout at the RK800. "Connor, stop Phoebe before she hurts herself again!"

I didn't stop running even after hearing Connor and Hank shout for me to stop. Ignoring their worried calls completely, I chase the deviant across more rooftops. When we reached a giant gap between two buildings, the machine jumped and reached the other building perfectly. Seeing as I wasn't as agile or tough as normal androids, I took a deep breath and backed up to get a better running start. I didn't make it far before I was tackled to the ground, arms wrapped around my body protectively.

Desperate to free myself and catch up to the deviant, I tried to pry the person off of me. I recognized the tie, but I still squirmed in Connor's grasp. "Connor, let me go! He's getting away!"

"That deviant isn't more important than your life, Phoebe!" His LED flashed yellow as his hold tightened on me.

"He knew about the key symbol! We could've had another lead on Amadeus!" I shouted, grasping his jacket tightly. The fabric crinkled under my death grip as my eyes were glued in the direction the android had disappeared.

Connor's body loomed over mine as he unwrapped his arms from my waist. His hands gripped mine tightly and I knew he wouldn't let go until I had calmed down. "We will find and apprehend Amadeus. I promise, Phoebe."

I inhaled deeply to calm myself down and turned my gaze to Connor. His brown eyes met my blue ones and I saw emotions I've never seen him express. Concern and joy were mixed in his eyes, showing the worry he had for me and the happiness of learning I was alright. I sigh heavily, closing my eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. "I'm sorry, Connor. I shouldn't have chased after him. I was just so... desperate to know what he knew about that key symbol."

"You do not need to apologize. I understand you wish to capture Amadeus as soon as possible, but you cannot risk your life."

I smiled. "Thank you, Connor."

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh connor #connor x oc #hank anderson #dbh spoilers

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toddlazarski · 3 years

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Last Suppers Vol. 2

Shepherd Express

In the days B.C.(Before Covid), when normal life, and more importantly, sports, proliferated and dotted the rote landscape of daily routine, I held a superstition with any of my real or fantasy teams: they wouldn’t play well if I actually watched. It was best I averted my eyes, distanced my associative bad juju. Nowadays, I do the same, except with the only statistical options: infection rates and confirmed cases and total deaths. I don’t look at virus numbers all day, then, when the house is quiet, the dishwasher humming, the lights half-off, I sit at the tiny kitchen table with a spoon and a pint of something chocolatey and my desperation and my phone and the giddy anxiety dread of a fresh-inked boxscore. It’s like I’m an immunologist with a gambling problem. Some combination of the ultimate-stakes card game scene in Casino Royale and the uncontrollable absurdity of Kramer betting on which flight lands first at Laguardia. Come the eventual loss, and then the shoulder-shrugged resigned finger-stabbing, the desperate working of the back triangle, the scrolling down, there is always a path to the only spot of hope in any news source today: an updated list of open restaurants and takeout offerings.

This is how I eventually stumbled on MobCraft, or, rather, remembered it was there, barely safely social distanced outside my once-normal morning cycle of coffee and work, just another place before, another option, yet another in a too long list of new breweries, one I didn’t know how to take seriously before all this because I have a middle-aged mistrust of anything “crowdsourced.” In my mind it suddenly began burgeoning like a lighthouse, with the irresistible notion that homemade craft beer, and nearly equally curated pizza, could be brought to my car as I idled with my Spotify playlist and the safe removal of the other half. There are plenty of places to get either, there are plenty within blocks—Fixture has better pizza, Indeed has better beer—but here is both. Two birds, one stone. Or, as the day-appropriate analogy runs: two vices, half the infection chance.

Later, as I ignored common sense to waste ever-precious paper towel squares on wiping down the rectangular boxes, I noticed the packages are ink-branded: ‘Hidden Kitchen.’ How apt. In the age of hearth-cooking and HGTV-backed open concepting, how hidden they’ve suddenly all become. Though here I wouldn’t really know, as I’ve still never set foot even on the curb outside. And, really, you’d think no one has, judging from the streets on a recent beer and pizza run evening. There was a couple with matching face masks at the corner of 5th and Bruce, and one guy on a bike, also in a mask that maybe you could convince yourself was a scarf, if you wanted to make it all seem less Cormac McCarthy, which I often struggle to do, telling myself the usual: “Well, it’s Sunday.” You could also just blame the weather—there’s still time in the season for that. Everyone just wants to be inside, sure. Or maybe he is, maybe they are—maybe we’re all—bank robbers. But getting off the Hoan at the Lakefront, circling up Clybourn and through the Third Ward, by the shell of the Public Market, a cold Colectivo, the only sign of life or movement is generally the streetcar, empty, running like a phantom reminder of how petty all our social media grievances once were. The city looks like a darkened backstage set, waiting. It feels recently completed, clean, ready, an up-and-comer, Cream City brick and Rustbelt charm and hints of the river rubbing against new development, Shake Shack and West Elm framed by turn-of-the-last-century port city industriousness. It’s an attractive potential leading man, wizened but spruced, primed for today, for a turn in the spotlight. To play part, the setting and co-star both, in the historic naming of someone—whomever!—to lead us out of this national nightmare. Now tumbleweeds blow down Water. 1st Street’s major pulse is two just-hanging-on taco trucks. Instead of simply taking the bikes away, Bublr has placed plastic bags over each individual docking station, they billow in the wind like a line of waiting ghosts, emphatic in doom declaration. Steny’s, empty, makes it feel like it’s too early. Anodyne, empty, like it’s too late. The expectation, the possibility here, is only for pizza and beer to take back to your little abode that by now feels half sanctuary, part jail.

And once you are home, hands washed, boxes washed too, psyche shaken of the jarring urban emptiness, distracted just enough by HBO or Netflix, what is there but to eat and drink and discuss said eats and drinks? Yet, first, as a collective, writers, judgers, hall monitors and such, very clearly, as a commandment or some other kind of religious term, should agree: objectivity is rightly dead. There should currently exist no pretense of criticism. Any words spent on food or drink should simply be a celebration that we are still around, have health and funds enough to still eat and drink. Every meal is worth only the comfort it brings. My recent birthday dinner selection was Pizza Shuttle, and was met not with laughs, scoffs, but gentle understanding nods. This is for your soul, not your tongue, forget your mind. None of us are seeing our doctors for normally scheduled tire-kicking and blood death panels anytime soon anyways. In that spirit, Mobcraft might be the greatest restaurant in the world right now.

Opening the boxes reveals a sort of paradigm of the flat bread-y, happy hour shareable brewpub pizza. It is in some way reminiscent of those things we are all missing the most: where you don’t feel like going out after a long day, then you go out anyways, and have something hoppy and local and loosen up, and unexpected alliances are formed by ABV, and there are ‘nother ones, and excuses made to selves and to significant others, and the coming weekend seems suddenly endless, eternal, what, in hindsight, feels almost, yes, maybe, blessed. And there is the realm of “one more” and somebody orders something from the bar to share, and everybody gets a wedge and pulls without cootie and corona paranoia, and the collective cheese pull is beautiful, pizza delivery commercial Instagrammable. The soft, deep, focaccia-like layers house typically creative topping combos: mac n’ cheese with pulled pork, a pungent gyro number with shaved lamb, a reuben pie with sauerkraut for those that prefer to sleep alone. Or there are more standard takes—pleasing marinara and pepperoni, with stretchy, blankety mozz, pleasant dusty crust flour fallout that snows softly down on the sweat pants and couch, lovingly sprinkled oregano flecks, cheese and edges just going brown toward crisp, but everything immeasurably pillowy, like a salty, saucy padding to smooth life’s edges just a bit. The “Pollo” has become an overnight favorite, featuring chicken chunks, the underutilized brotherly punch-in-the-arm of poblanos, bacon bits, velvety, guilt-inducing Alfredo sauce. It’s neither Italian or Mexican, craft or common. It is simply a feel, that of comfort pizza done with deft touch, a happy taste experience, now especially, arriving on the nostalgia spectrum somewhere between a Grandma slice from a Brooklyn street corner, whatever doughy carb-and-sauce bomb you used to get way too late at night in college, and elementary school cafeteria pizza day square.

But you also can’t leave a palate sodium-parched. So there is the accompanying, expected microbrew tome of types and tastes—a cranberry farmhouse ale, a coffee brown brew, things fermented in barrels, limited offerings of ideas pitched by the public and then voted on by any Joe Six Pack with the internet, the flavor winner then brewed in house—most any to be jogged to your car in the ultimate “this is more like it” lesson we can take away from pandemic times. But it is mostly the distinct, pungent mouthfeel of a hazy IPA—”Squeezin’ Juice,” dry-hopped and 6.7% potent—that acts as total counterpoint to the state of existence right now. There is something of a citrus dance, a zest, a subsequent scrunched-up-face of bitterness showing reaction, any kind of reaction really indicating a defiant act of living. Even if it comes from a sip taken sitting on the couch, in the basement, solo cheersing another year gone by, alone, knowing everyone in the world is mostly doing the same, is in some state of either worrying, or sleeping, or dying. This is probably why even the fizzy astringency of kombucha tastes good to me right now. And probably why the thought of a crowdsourced brewery, whatever that really means, is totally fine.

By the time the pizza is done and the ice cream too, once the music and news of the day has been faced, when the blindfold is ready for donning, it’s like the next year wish all sports fans know too well. Tomorrow, for sure. The numbers will tumble with lead boots-weight in the right direction, a vax will appear imminent, a treatment will truly show promise. If not, there will be some leftover pizza. And maybe one juicy IPA to sink down with.

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legendofzeldaalinktothepast · 3 years

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Pathetic, Clinging Poetry - Chapter 16 (of 25)

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Maybe one day, You'll understand the way I feel When she's by my side. Maybe one day, You'll understand that God put us here To experience love in sincerity. Maybe one day, You'll feel it for yourself.

With a glittery gel pen in one hand and her brand new notebook sitting in her lap, Pearl had everything she needed to start writing. She'd drawn a column of bullet points on the left side of her paper -- of course, that was the easy part. Filling in the bullets, on the other hand, was a different story. Pearl tapped her pen on the notebook, flicking little dots of sparkly ink on the sheet of paper. Glancing over towards Amethyst, she felt a slight twinge of guilt. She wanted to put her new birthday gift to use, she truly did... But her writer's block was hitting her harder than ever.

Back in high school, when her writing skills were at their peak, she'd start off with a list of words-- words that sounded pretty, or words that rhymed with each other, or new words she'd learned in school that day -- and use them as inspiration for a poem. A simple task for sixteen year old Pearl, but at twenty eight... It was more or less a chore.

'How did it come so easily to me back then...?' Pearl placed her gel pen in the notebook's spiral and set it aside. With a sigh, she laid her head against the pillows, deciding to watch Amethyst work on her painting instead. Perhaps her girlfriend's art could inspire some creative words.

Amethyst turned to Pearl and gave her a warm smile. "How you feelin', cutie?"

Pearl shrugged. "Tired. But I know I won't be able to sleep... And if I do, I'll probably have a nightmare."

"I don't blame you." Amethyst turned back to her palette and dipped her brush into a puddle of white paint. "Stay up with me and join me in the night owl club."

"But there's story time tomorrow... I need to be well rested if I'm going to be around those kids." Pearl whined.

"You don't have to go. It's not like you work there or anything, you're just doing it 'cause you can." Amethyst said.

"Ugh, I know, but the kids will miss me, and Mrs. Fluorite really needs my help sometimes." Pearl continued, burying her face into her arms.

"They'll deal." Amethyst said, pressing a kiss to Pearl's forehead. "Promise. They've survived without you before, they can do it for one day."

"But... But what if something bad happens tomorrow, and it's because I wasn't there? S-sometimes those kids really get out of hand, and Mrs. Fluorite's voice is too soft to really quiet them down, and she's so old, she'll probably get so overwhelmed, and..." Pearl's voice cracked, and she trailed off.

Amethyst cupped Pearl's cheeks. "Pearlie girlie, you're projecting like crazy right now. Do you hear yourself?"

Pearl blushed; was it really that obvious? "I guess I am a little." she admitted.

"Not just a little." Amethyst snorted. "Look, they'll be fine. And Peony is probably fine, too. And you're definitely gonna be fine as long as I have anything to say about it." Amethyst said, gazing right into Pearl's eyes. "I promise."

A long, but comfortable silence filled the room. Amethyst crawled up onto the bed beside Pearl, running her fingers up and down her spine. Slowly, she could feel herself beginning to relax, even if it was just a little. Something about Amethyst's presence was so soothing... As strange as she could be, she really knew how to quiet down Pearl's racing thoughts.

"Sometimes..." Pearl sighed, closing her eyes. "I can't help but wonder if she was right about some things. She'd always tell me and Peony that we'd never survive on our own... That we're too fragile to handle the real world. She'd only ever let us move out if we were moving in with a man -- and one she approved of, too. I was always told that women shouldn't be out on their own... And me and Peony especially so, because of our 'demons' -- that's why she believed we were autistic, by the way. Because of demons."

"Pearl... you really don't believe you have demons inside you, do you?" Amethyst raised an eyebrow.

"No, no, that's not the part I was taking seriously, just -- the part about us not being able to survive on our own." Pearl said, realizing how silly she might've sounded.

"I mean... you've never really had a chance to prove her wrong, but it doesn't make her right, either." Amethyst said. "But like... even if, for whatever reason, it was impossible for you to live on your own, you don't have to. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't have run away from her, either. I mean, you're doing pretty well living with us... A lil setback here and there is normal."

"I guess you're right..." Pearl mumbled. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't still feeling uneasy, but Amethyst's words were at least somewhat reassuring. Amethyst could sense the anxiety still lingering in Pearl, and ran her fingers through her hair. "I love you a lot, Pierogi. It's gonna be alright someday."

'I hope that's true.' Pearl thought. Rubbing tears from her eyes, she shifted her position and laid back against the pillows. "I think I'm going to try and sleep."

"Alright. I'll be right here if you need me." Amethyst reassured, pressing a kiss to Pearl's cheeks and draping the blankets over her. "Sleep tight, babe."

"Good night.”

It wasn't empty nest syndrome; no, mothers suffering from an empty nest at least said goodbye to their daughters before they went off to college, or to live with their husbands, or some other bright, hopeful future. This was far worse; perhaps there wasn't even a word for it. Not just one, but both of her daughters slipping away in the middle of the night? Running off to live a life of sin and heresy? It was unheard of. It was something no mother should ever go through -- especially not one who'd dedicated her life to following God!

Whitney pounded her fist on the table; that damned voicemail message. Pearl's accomplice must have been protecting her by avoiding her calls. She should've seen it coming, but the rage boiled in her chest nonetheless. "After everything I did for those two... They just leave me behind to rot?" she hissed through gritted teeth. Standing up from the kitchen table, she stormed into the living room and approached the fireplace. Facing the wooden cross with clenched fists, she shouted, "What are you even doing up there?!" Tears of frustration and grief welled up in her eyes. "I've done everything to keep them in line! I prayed, and I followed you and you alone! I trusted and obeyed your word! And this is what I get?" Bursting into tears, she fell to her knees and buried her face into her hands.

"I just... Don't understand. Why did they stray, Lord? Why did those demons have to take them away from me?"

Silence. Whitney didn't know what she expected; maybe if she begged hard enough, God himself would come down and tell her that it's all okay, that the demons dwelling inside her daughters were just too strong, and that no amount of motherly love could have changed that... But the longer she waited, the more she began to realize that it just wasn't going to happen.

Whitney finally lifted her head from her hands. Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass door of the fireplace.

A few days passed; every time Jasper's phone rang (which, considering her social life, wasn't too often), Pearl immediately went into panic mode, which faded as the conversation went on and it became obvious that it definitely wasn't Whitney calling again. That, however, seemed to be more concerning... Now that Whitney had a way to contact Pearl (even if indirectly), it would seem like she'd utilize it as much as possible; but perhaps that wasn't the case, for whatever reason...

"Do you think she might've gotten it through her head?" Pearl asked one morning during breakfast; she sat on the opposite side of the table from Jasper, sprinkling a dash of cinnamon into her steaming bowl of oatmeal and slowly stirring it in. "Maybe... Maybe she finally realized that she's better off leaving me alone, and that I'm not going to come crawling back to her."

Jasper simply shrugged, keeping her gaze lowered to her cup of coffee. "Who knows what's going on in her head." she said, taking a sip. "I'm guessing she didn't get any less crazy after she took you away, huh?" she continued, trying to change the subject.

Pearl snorted. "Of course not. If anything, she got worse... But maybe it's because I got better." she said, eating a spoonful of her oatmeal. It was still a bit too hot, so she pushed the bowl aside. "When I was younger, I at least pretended to be brainwashed by that church. But over time, especially after we moved, I just... stopped caring. I stopped apologizing for things I didn't have to be sorry for, and I stopped listening when she threatened me with eternity in hell. And as a result, she got more strict... More threatening. I spent a whole night locked in one of the bathrooms, once, because I talked back to her." Pearl let out a sigh. "But - but that's in the past. She can't hurt me anymore. I'm not going to let her."

Finishing her cup of coffee, Jasper pulled herself to her feet. "That's what I like to hear. The past is in the past, and you can't let her control you." she said with a warm smile. "You're gonna be just fine, girlie. I'm still pissed that she ruined your birthday... Seriously, if you need me to kick her ass anytime, I'll gladly do it." she joked.

Pearl burst into laughter. "Thankfully, I don't think that'll be necessary. Even at her worst, she never once got physical with me or Peony -- unless you count shoving us onto the floor to pray, or locking us up in closets. She rarely ever raised her voice, even. She was... oddly calm for someone so manipulative."

"Necessary or not, I'll shove one of her fancy bedazzled sandals up her ass. Just watch." Jasper smirked, giving Pearl a playful nudge.

Pearl rolled her eyes. "Alright, I give you permission to do that if she tries to harm me. But I doubt she'll even leave the state."

"Aww, no fun." Jasper teased, rinsing her dishes off in the sink. "Speaking of fun, is Rose having her family game night thing tonight?"

"As far as I know, she still is." Pearl said. "Do you think you'll be coming along?"

"Duh." Jasper said, placing her coffee mug in the dishwasher. "It was pretty fun last time we went. That Steven kid is the cutest little shit. He has no concept of personal space, though."

Pearl giggled. "Welcome to my world. Imagine ten Stevens, some of which have snotty noses, and that's what storytime at the library is like for me."

"Grooossss." Jasper said. "I'm surprised you don't have Amethyst come along with you. It takes a lot to gross her out, so maybe she'll do good with the little rascals."

"I mentioned it to her once, but she said she wasn't a big fan of kids..." Pearl said. "Of course, I wasn't when I started volunteering there, either. So perhaps I could convince her to give it a try. Maybe next week, so I'm not springing it on her all suddenly."

"You should. She's probably bored, not having a job and all that." Jasper said. "Anyway... I should be heading off. I'll be lookin' forward to the game night, though."

"Aww, already?" Pearl glanced at the time on the stove; it was later than she'd thought. She rose to her feet and pulled Jasper into a tight hug. "Alright, well... have a nice day at work!"

Blushing, Jasper returned the hug. "Yeah, I'll try. Have fun at the library, girlie."

"I'll try my best." Pearl smiled, holding the hug for a few more moments before finally pulling away.

Peony wove her dainty fingers through her long amber hair, twirling the locks around and around. She fidgeted with the pair of scissors in her other hand and snipped aimlessly at the air, as if in preparation for what she was about to do. 'It's the only way. Once it's gone, I won't be able to change my mind again. Back and forth, back and forth... How was it so easy for her?' she thought with a sigh, caressing her soft hair in her hands. It was still a bit damp from the shower she'd taken earlier. 'It's so pretty... I'm going to miss it so much.' she thought. 'But it can always grow back.'

Taking a long, deep breath, Peony placed a chunk of her hair between the blades and began to cut. It was tough at first; 'Kitchen scissors aren't made for hair, that's for certain...' she thought, watching as the strands of hair fell to the ground.

Before she knew it, a pile of long, ginger hair laid at her feet. Peony looked herself over in the mirror; the bottom of her new hairstyle was choppy and messy. She definitely would have to get it touched up sometime, but that wasn't her top priority right then. She heard tires in the driveway; someone was waiting for her outside. Peony dropped the pair of scissors onto the floor and made her way down the stairs with no intention to come back up.

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itslikethatfrenchthing · 4 years

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14 LIFE-CHANGING DECLUTTERING TIPS FOR YOUR WORKSPACE

Are you looking for some decluttering tips for how to organize your desk and office space?

You’re in the right place. This video marks the start of our 31 Weeks of Productivity Challenge! In this video, we dive into some of the most life-changing tips for decluttering your desk and improving your desk organization. If you love minimalism and want to improve your organization and productivity, you’ll love the decluttering tips in this video! Remember to subscribe if you want more tips on decluttering!

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There are endless decluttering tips for your workspace and I have a few of those ideas myself.

Before we get into today's video, I just want to welcome you to my 31 weeks of productivity challenge here on YouTube.

These next few weeks are going to be challenging. They are going to be motivating and they are going to be very, very productive. The purpose of this challenge is to give you one action step that you can do every single week, that’s not going to take up too much of your time that you can do to help increase your productivity and create more balance in your daily schedule as a business owner.

We are going to be covering organizational tips like the topic that we're kicking things off with today along with mindset shifts and productivity hacks to really just make sure that we're covering all bases.

And the best thing about each of these challenges is that you can come back to them again and again and again.

You don't need anything for this challenge, you just need you and a little bit of motivation. I'll be here every single week with your action step for that week and you have seven days to complete it and I'll be doing these with you as well.

So if you want to take part and follow along and make sure you tag me on your Instagram story so I can see your progress and see how you're getting on.

And then also make sure that wherever you talk about the challenge, make sure to use #ProductivityBoss because you know we are all about that boss life.

So today we are getting started with week number one snd your first challenge is to declutter your workspace.

14 LIFE-CHANGING DECLUTTERING TIPS FOR YOUR WORKSPACE

Now, unless I'm having a little bit of an off day, you can usually find working at my desk in my home office pretty 24/7.

Now, everyone's workspace is going to look slightly different, but it's really important that you have a designated place to work so you can associate that place with you being your most productive self, that version of yourself that gets things done.

But what I do know is that if your desk is a mess and you've got stuff all over the place and you can't even see the surface of your desk because there's so much on it, then we've got a problem. Because that is definitely going to affect your productivity and not in a good way.

So if it is the case that you have got a messy desk or a messy workspace and you need to sort it out, then I have 14 quick decluttering tips to share with you today that are life changing in their own way for many different reasons. These tips for decluttering your life can make a massive difference to your life in general and none of them require spending any money.

Plus they can work for you whether you've got a whole room dedicated to your home office or you've got a desk in the corner of a room at home or it's at your kitchen table, it really doesn't matter. Enjoy these tips for decluttering!

P.S. If you want to know how to make decluttering a part of your daily schedule, download your free guide below!

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#1 | Have A Simple System For Decluttering

I don't know about you, but when I've got a mammoth task ahead of me and I haven't got a plan for getting started, I find it so difficult to actually get started in the first place.

So when you start decluttering, you want to actually create a system that's going to allow you to get started and that's going to make the whole process so much easier. Plus your system will be filled with tidying up tips!

For example, you could have separate piles or you could grab a couple of bin bags or some boxes, grab some sticky labels and then I like to separate things into these different piles:

Trash

Recycling

Shredding

Anything that can be given away

Anything that belongs in another room

Anything you actually need to keep that lives in your office.

Then you can start collecting everything from your office, everything from the top of your desk, everything from your drawers and start putting them into these different piles.

And every time you’re looking for tips on decluttering your home, this is the system that you've got to follow.

#2 | Just Start

I know decluttering is overwhelming. There is no way around that. But I can promise you that it won't get any less overwhelming the longer that you put it off. That’s why I’m sharing these easy decluttering tips with you!

So if you're not one of those people that wants to get it done all in one day, then take a few minutes today to just get started. Clear one piece of clutter or two or 12. It really doesn't matter as long as you just get started.

Or you can set a timer for 10 to 15 minutes clear some clutter, and then when that timer goes off, you go back to your regularly scheduled day.

Bonus points if you block this out on your calendar!

If you do this every day, you will be amazed at how quickly you hack your way through your workspace clutter.

#3 | Have a Quick Win With A Dump Bin

One of my favourite hacks for decluttering your home is to have a dump bin and that gives you such a quick fun organizing win.

All you do is grab an empty box or a basket, whatever you've got in your house, and fill it with every single item that continues to keep cluttering up your desk. Then spend five to 10 minutes each day sorting through the items in the dump bin until it's empty.

If you start clearing off the top of your desk, you'll feel immediate relief from the overwhelm that the clutter causes, and you'll also know exactly where you need to find something if you end up needing it.

The only thing with this hack is that you've got to take that time to actually go through the items in your dump bin and organize them or else you've essentially just relocated your clutter and that's cheating!

#4 | Only Keep Out What You Use Frequently

I like to think that there's an everything hidden away / everything in view spectrum and it's going to vary where each of us fall in that spectrum.

I only prefer to have the necessities out on my desk:

Office lamp

Laptop

Water bottle

Calendar

Pen pot

Daily planner

A few other trinkets and inspirational quote cards that I have on my window sill.

Everything else is tucked away out of sight.

You need to decide where you fall on that spectrum. You might prefer to have all of your office supplies out with your notepad and pens and other tools, or you might fall somewhere in the middle. No matter where you fall on the spectrum, for your desk in particular, only keep out the items that you use most frequently, AKA the items that you use multiple times throughout the day. This is a good rule of thumb when it comes to tips for decluttering your home too.

#5 | Assign Every Item A Home

When it comes to top tips for decluttering this is a great one and it works wonders for your workspace as well.

When every item has a home, it makes tiding up after yourself a breeze. It's so easy to put items away and clear your desk in preparation for another productive day at work.

Assigning a home for something could be as simple as putting your pen back in a pen pot or it could be a little bit complex in terms of things like filing paper.

The point is that you know exactly what items belong and you know exactly where you need to find them when you need them.

#6 | Use A Desk Tray To Catch Paper Clutter

It's highly likely that your workspace is doing double or even triple duty. So it's important to have a catch-all filter for incoming items. An office inbox or in other words, a desk tray allows you to control the flow of information and papers that are coming into your office on a daily basis.

It means you can avoid having stacks of papers on your desk and also means that you can review all of the information that's coming in.

I especially like the clear acrylic trays. These are perfect if you want to avoid those bookie looking trays and also if you want easy access to papers and notebooks as well.

#7 | Clear Your Desk At The End Of Each Day

Now I get it. It might seem like a lot of work to clear your desk at the end of each day, but it's going to be so refreshing for you to end the day and start the next day on a clear, clean slate.

I highly suggest clearing your workspace at the end of each day so you are greeted each new morning with a decluttered workspace. This is my favourite piece of decluttering advice.

It's going to help you feel so much more creative and productive when you sit down at your desk each morning.

And this is even more important if your desk space and your office space is where you do your morning routine, which for me it is.

Honestly, this is probably the most life changing habit on this list because not only has it increased my organization, but it's also allowed me to increase the energy that it takes in order to maintain that organization.

All you need to do is put all of your items away, which should be super easy now, especially if you followed the tips that we've just outlined because every item should now have a home!

File your papers and again, they should be super, super quick, especially if your filing system is within an arm's reach of your desk space. Then put anything else on your desk away and make sure it is nice and tidy and exactly as you left it first thing this morning.

By taking the time to do this each and every day when you clock off means you will never sit down to a cluttered workspace again.

Your productivity will improve and your whole office and workspace will stay way more organized.

If you want to know how to turn this into a daily habit, download your free to-do list detox exercise below!

send me the exercise!

#8 | Get A Daily Planner

If you've watched the videos on this channel for any length of time or you follow me on Instagram, you'll know that I love my Google Calendar. I live my life by it. It truly is wonderful and I will admit that now it's almost impossible to function without them. I mean, where is your phone right now is probably right by you or you're even watching this video on it.

But I also think it is so important to have a daily paper planner.

Having a visual physical planner helps our mind process the tasks that we need to complete.

A daily planner is also a great way to have your notes and to do lists all in one place, which means you can throw away all those random post it notes and just have everything in your daily planner.

It also works as a great documentation system for things that have already happened. So if your memory is not 100% spot on, then your daily planner could end up being your best friend.

#9 | Eliminate Distractions In Your Environment

Our mind is constantly being bombarded with information, so it's really important that we have a system to weed out everything apart from the essentials. And the first step with this is to eliminate any auditory or visual distractions in our environment.

If your mind is full of off-target things, that is a massive productivity killer because it's essentially just mind clutter. So here are a few things I find helpful to make your environment more conducive to a more productive day.

First of all, reduce background noise

Turn off all those notifications on your phone, or at least put it on silent when you're working. And definitely listen to lyric free music as this will really, really help with your concentration.

If you are in an environment with people who are making a lot of noise, you could even get some noise canceling headphones. They might not eliminate background noise all together, but they can be a game changer when it comes to keeping you focused.

Reduce the visual distractions

So we've already talked about how to reduce distractions on your desk, but there's also some other visual elements that could be distractions as well.

Are you sitting by a window that has a lot of activity? Do a lot of different people walk by? Are you working with the TV on?

If you can take care of little factors like this, I promise you, you will feel so much more productive.

Sometimes even just shutting a door or changing the direction of your chair can solve a massive problem. This is one of the best decluttering tips out there!

#10 | Stay Off Social Media

This area doesn't really require that much explanation, does it? It is what it says on the tin!

I won’t spend too much time on this because I know that you know that spending way too much time on social media is a massive time suck.

So if you feel inclined to look at your social media accounts throughout the day, especially when you're working, then maybe save it for when you're on your lunch break or even as an afternoon treat.

There are lots of different things you can do, but the point is when you're in focused work time, unless you are using it for work, stay off it.

#11 | File Your Emails Or Delete Them After You’e Addressed Them

If you have your inbox open all the time, that is not the best relationship to have with your emails.

Address your emails only a few times a day and take action on items immediately. Block that time out throughout your day.

Turn off your email notifications, that ping constantly telling you that you've got a new email coming through.

If you don't do that, then you'll end up going off task and it will be a massive time waster because as soon as you see that notification pop up, you won’t be able to concentrate on anything else until you see what it is.

Now I realize that not every job will allow for this for even just setting certain times of the day aside to look at emails. That is definitely doable.

#12 | Keep Plants In Your Office

There has been so much research around plants and productivity.

Having plants in your workspace has been proven to make your workspace feel more calm and relaxed and anything that is going to help reduce anxiety is going to lead to better productivity.

So get a plant or five…depending on how big they are, you don't want it to be a jungle!

#13 | Use Draw Dividers

I know what one of your draws looks like in your workspace. You can't fool me. And the reason why I know this is because I have one that is exactly the same.

Drawer dividers are perfect if you have messy drawers and want to get everything in order. It means you'll be able to keep everything organized and you'll also be able to separate things by categories and everything.

Plus, it'll save you so much time when you go start looking for an item in your drawers because as soon as you open one of your drawers, you'll be able to see at a glance where everything is because of these dividers.

#14 | Make It Your Own

The most important thing to remember is that this is your workspace. It's where you work and you need to make it work for you.

It can turn into your haven, that safe space where you can go, that's just yours, your personal space. There is so much power in that, so look after it as you would yourself and even just committing to it. Just saying, I will look after my workspace. I will show the same care for my workspace that I show myself and knowing that sign that when you declutter through your desk at the end of the work day, that is when you are clocking off and you can go and enjoy the rest of your evening.

Your workspace will never work for you unless it's based on what you want it to be. Don't copy someone else's, base it on what makes you the most happy.

Have you grabbed your copy of my latest free guide, The Fab Four? This is your guide for learning the four daily non-negotiables I prioritize in order to help me create balance in my daily schedule. So This is the manual for which tasks you should be prioritizing on a daily basis and what that looks like for you. Plus there's an exercise called The To-Do List Detox which is going to give you some options for how you can add these things into your daily routine so you can have a well rounded, balanced day every day and live that boss lifestyle.

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