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falling-pages · 4 years

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I’m just protective: Hikaru x reader (and a little bit of Kaoru) 1/2

Welcome to some Hikaru angst! This is part 1 of 2, part 2 posted right here! It’s a bit messy and jumbled, but still angsty all the same. Little warning: there is a slight mention of date rape-type drugs whenever they talk about Kaoru. Nothing explicit or too mature, but there is definitely context about it if you read in between the lines. I got the idea for what happened to Kaoru from @startingtodayyouareahost from this story they posted. Go give them a read and be sure to see that post for context! *Send me a prompt or idea! My ask box is open!*

Dating Hikaru Hitachiin was a constant journey of surprises, good and bad. When you first met, you fell in love with his playful demeanor. The glint in his eyes that some people called evil you thought was charming. The daring smile when he had a trick up his sleeve still sends butterflies to your stomach. And whenever he touches you, giving you little shoves or digging his hands into your waist, it still feels like the first time you ever brushed fingers.

Though mischievous, he had his mature moments. You loved it when you two sat outside on a sunny day, your head in his lap while he sketched the gardens on campus. The way he furrowed his brow when he concentrated showed his dedication to his work. He even knew when to give you your personal space, doing little chores around the house until you were ready to be social again.

It was nice to be in love with such a versatile person.

Sometimes, though, it felt like you were dating a two-year-old rather than a 21-year-old.

Like right now, when you walk into the bathroom to see his whole left foot stuck in the toilet. All thoughts of your exam the next day fled your mind as you stood there for a moment, frozen in awe, watching the boy you love shake his whole body in an escape attempt.

“What the heck, Hikaru?”

He turns at your voice, a grin splitting his face. “(Y/N)!” he said, waving you over. “You’re home! I’m so glad! I missed you!”

He opens his arms, but you spurn them, more interested in whatever situation he has caused. “What’s going on here?”

“Oh, this.” Something’s off about his phrasing. He held the “s” much longer than normal. “I, uh...I dropped something, and I needed to get it back.”

“What did you drop?” you ask, taking a closer look. His left foot is completely wedged in the hole the water gets suctioned out of, the (thankfully) clean water staining the hem of his pants.

“I don’t remember,” he mumbles.

You frown. That’s suspicious. He sloshes the bowl as he struggles. His sneaker remains on his right foot. Does that mean his shoe is clogging the toilet?

“Oh, Hikaru...” You reach up and steady your boyfriend as he loses his balance. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Ideally, help me get unstuck,” he replies, “and then we can go to bed. I’ll help you relax if you wash off my foot...”

He tips up your chin, but you dodge him, your fingers digging into his side. Your shoulders burn from the added weight. You couldn’t believe that after the day you’ve had, thirteen hours locked up in the library, you had to come home and take care of a child.

“You couldn’t have been here for very long,” you say as he shifts his weight. “How could you forget what you dropped?”

Hikaru laughs. He sounds different. That laugh was sloppy and breathy, not precise and clean like normal. And getting his foot stuck in a toilet? He had always been a clumsy prankster, but they were always situations where he had complete control over, times he could provide the only outcome. How could he be so careless?

“My prince, are you sure this wasn’t just an accident?” you ask suddenly.

This time, Hikaru succeeds in grabbing your chin. Lowering his eyes to rest on yours, he drops his tone. For a moment, as unromantic as being stuck in a toilet is, it’s nice to be alone with him.

“Our time together is never an accident,” he replies.

As he brings your mouth to his, you close your eyes, only to be startled by the smell of tequila on his breath. You jump back out of his grasp and grab his face. His eyes are red, and you suddenly understand how his foot got stuck.

“You’re drunk!” you yell, pushing him away from you. You cross your arms, feeling the betrayal settle in your stomach like molten lead. “You went out to a party,” you say, swallowing thickly, “when I had specifically asked you not to, and got drunk.” You throw your hands up. “You know I can’t handle taking care of your drunk ass and my exam tomorrow!”

You turn on your heel to leave the bathroom, sick from the smell of his drinks. It was everywhere now, infusing the air and crawling up your nose, down your throat. It suffocated you, blinded you.

Hikaru’s fingers grabbed the back of your blouse, pulling you back in. Maybe it was your imagination or your anger, but the stench was stronger and your vision blurrier. Usually his touch calmed you down or excited you, depending on the situation. But now the very thought of his drunken hand caressing your spine nauseated you.

“(Y/N),” he whines, tugging on your shirt, “please. I’m sorry.”

That damn whining voice. Whenever he wanted something, he always raised his voice an octave and folds his tongue in a way to make the tone smoother. You don’t know how he does it or why it works so well, but it’s the voice that instantly makes you want to take off your pants.

Except for tonight. You turn to your boyfriend, shaking off his clinging hand. Leaning against the wall across from him, you smile smugly at his vain attempts to free himself. This could be good blackmail.

“I should just leave you here,” you say, heading back to the doorway.

“(Y/N)! Baby! Please, you gotta help me out!”

The moment of endearment evaporates, the frustration and anger rushing back in. The tips of your ears burn, and you face him. He’s looking at you pleadingly, but your heart has hardened against it.

Hikaru loses the look the moment you meet his eyes. For a moment, he plays with his long, slender fingers and bows his head. The bright fluorescent lights make his skin paler than normal and accent the faint veins in his face. He is...drooping, like a wildflower in a hurricane. Usually he only pulled that look with Kaoru when they were feigning innocence after pulling a prank. But right now it’s just you two. He’s not innocent.

“Hikaru, look at me.” You force your voice to be harsh to cover the strain of tears in the back of your throat.

He looks up immediately, locking eyes. You allow yourself to get lost in them for one second, feeling yourself fall into his gaze, all while holding on to your anger like an anchor.

“Tell me what happened.”

He hears the strain in your voice and starts to reach for you. “Baby--”

“Tell me what happened.”

He combs his fingers through his ginger hair. It looked so soft, and you knew it smelled good. You wanted to bury your face into it, but you were too angry.

“You’ve been so busy for so long, studying for medical school,” he starts. You frown as he pins the blame on you, but let him continue. “And I know you need to study for that exam. It’s the most important exam of your life. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“So you broke your promise?”

“I--” he hangs his head. “An old friend from first year invited me to a party. he always throws keggers and I didn’t have plans, and I knew you would be at the library all day and I was bored.” He drags out the word, fiddling with his fingers again. “Everything got out of control. I didn’t plan on getting drunk, but I’m sober now, I swear!”

He continues pleading, and you take a step closer. His eyes aren’t bloodshot anymore, and his speech is less slurred. Even his escape attempts are less jagged than before.

“How did you get home?” You ask solemnly. “You didn’t drive, did you? If you did, I swear to God--”

“NO! I took an Uber,” he says, spreading his hands in alarm. “You know I’d never put you through that again.”

You let out a breath. “That’s why I say never go to a party without me, the thing with my dad and what happened to Kaoru that one time--”

“I know.”

“And you went without me anyways!” you yell.

Hikaru jerks back. He’s used to you yelling--you’re both pretty loud people--but this is a hot topic with you, something he should have expected.

“We made a promise,” you start, your voice shaking, “that neither of us would go to a party without the other.” You shove your finger in his face, watching his shoulders start to twitch. “And just because I was busy, and you were bored, you broke that promise! You’re such an asshole!”

You step back, your whole body shaking with rage, as you felt your fingertips go numb. The study stress and exhaustion and hunger formed one hell of a cocktail of emotions.

Hikaru reaches for your shoulder, but you angle yourself away. You can’t look at him, not after the danger he put himself in tonight.

“(Y/N),” he says gently, “I’m okay. My driver was sober, and I watched my drinks the entire time. No one messed with me, I promise. I’m sorry.”

In his eyes you see a deep reflection of sadness. Of course he’s sorry. You don’t doubt that. He hates seeing you angry, hates it even more when you cry. Though you haven’t shed a single tear yet, you feel them burning in your eye sockets, choking down your throat.

“Get yourself out of this mess,” you spit out, wiping your nose clean from the smell. “And don’t come to bed. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.”

You walk out of the bathroom and straight into your bedroom, needing to shower the day off but unwilling to be around Hikaru. As you laid down in bed, unconsciously stroking the seam of the sheet, you let your mind wander. A single tear escapes your eye.

Maybe you overreacted. Then again, he broke a promise very near to your heart. He knew that meant a lot to you, knew that you had nightmares about what happened to Kaoru happening to one of you. He knew you still hated your dad for driving drunk and killing your mom. He knew all of this and did it anyways.

You turn over to the spot where your boyfriend usually sleeps. Although you miss him beside you, the extra space is nice. You just need time for your anger to burn away. And a good night’s sleep. The last thing you need is a distraction for your exam.

#ouran high school host club #ohshc #hikaru hitachiin #hikaru x reader #hikaru angst #hikaru fluff #hikaru imagine #hikaru headcanon #hikaru scenario #love #romance #fluff #angst #fluffy angst #angsty fluff #kaoru hitachiin #ohshc imagine #ohshc scenarios #ohshc headcanons

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madasthesea · 5 years

Note

what about the remember me one? seen a lot of fics with peter getting amnesia but never one of tony forgetting anything? could be a nice switch to see how peter would deal with that + tony trying to figure out how he went from a wild playboy to a supposed superhero with a teenager. I'm sure I'd cry lmao

Guess what, anon. I already had 2000 words written on this very topic. Hence why this is so very long.

Tony wakes up. He blinks around at the well-lit room around him—softblue walls, clean sheets on his bed. There’s medical equipment around him,beeping steadily with his heartbeat.

He isn’t worried, but he is confused.

He has no idea where he is.

A hospital, he thinks,but he doesn’t know how he knows that.

Actually, the more he thinks, the more he realizes that he doesn’tknow... anything.

His name is Tony. He’s in a hospital room. There’s a dull achebuilding at the back of his head.

That’s it. He closes his eyes and concentrates, tries to rememberhow he got here, but there’s nothing before he opened his eyes.

“Tony?”

Tony jerks his eyes open, looks at the dark-haired woman suddenlystanding in front of his bed.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” she replies, smiling a little. “I’m Dr. Helen Cho.”

Tony tries to think if the name is familiar. Or if it should befamiliar. It isn’t, so he says, “Nice to meet you.”

Dr. Cho hums. “Yes. About that. I suspected based on the MRIresults from this morning, but this confirms it. Tony, you have full retrogradeamnesia. It is temporary. We’re finding a solution.”

Tony frowns. “How do you already know it’s temporary if I’ve justwoken up?”

Dr. Cho doesn’t seem surprised by his blunt question. In fact, herlittle smile grows just a bit.

“The cause of your amnesia is not from blunt force trauma or a deteriorationin the hippocampus, but another source that I feel is best not to disclose atthis time. I’ve consulted another doctor with your case and he assures me thatthere is a solution that will fully restore your memories, it will just take afew days to take effect.”

“That sounds suspicious as heck, but I guess I’ll take your wordfor it, Doc. You seem like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I do. That’s why you hired me,” Helen says simply. That’s news toTony. He thinks about his response for a moment.

“And the other doctor. I hired them, too?”

“Dr. Strange is a... colleague of yours. He wanted to help.” Tonyraises an eyebrow, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but Cho keeps speaking. “Wouldyou like to see your family now, Tony?”

Tony freezes. He... he has a family? Are they worried about him? Dothey know he has amnesia... that he can’t remember them?

What if they get mad that he can’t remember them?

His mouth is suddenly dry. He swallows hard.

“Do they know?” He whispers.

“I’ll warn them before they come in,” Helen assures him. When Tonycontinues to stare at the door with wide eyes, she adds, “They’re very worriedabout you, Tony. They’d like to see you.”

“Right. Ok. Umm... bring them in, I guess.”

Helen leaves. Tony tugs at the blanket over his lap, his stomachfluttering with nerves as he waits for someone else to show up. He has no ideawho to expect.

Does he have a spouse? Are his parents alive? Siblings, maybe? Noneof those feel right, but does that mean anything?

The door opens again and Tony’s jaw drops a little bit.

The woman walking toward him is easily the most beautiful personhe has ever seen. Her long strawberry blonde hair falls over her shoulders, herblue eyes wide as she hurries over to him.

“Tony,” she murmurs, sitting on the edge of his bed. She puts onehand on the side of his face, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Umm,” he breathes intelligently. “Hey.”

The woman smiles a bit, her eyes filling with tears. The sightmakes something in Tony’s gut clench, icy dread shooting through his veins.

He sits up a bit, presses his hand over hers.

“Don’t cry,” he says without thinking. “Please don’t cry.”

Her face softens. She rubs her thumb along Tony’s cheek.

“Hi, Tony,” she whispers. “I’m Pepper.”

“Pepper,” he repeats quietly, hoping that it will feel familiar inhis mouth. It doesn’t. “That’s a nice name,” he offers, smiling a little.

Pepper laughs, a soft exhale of breath. Tony likes the way hernose scrunches up when she does it.

“Thank you.” They sit for another moment, hands still overlapping.Tony looks at her intently, hoping that if he looks hard enough he’ll remember something about her.

Finally, he has to ask. “And you’re my...?”

Her smile is a little sadder this time. “I’m your fiancée.”

Tony gapes at her for a second. “Holy crap.”

Pepper laughs again, an actual laugh that makes Tony smile justfrom hearing it.

His breath catches in his throat when she leans forward and kisseshis cheek. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, his stomach swarming with butterflies.

“Even with amnesia, you’re still my Tony,” Pepper says like it’sthe greatest compliment in the world.

He smiles at her, a dopey grin that makes her laugh again. It’sofficially his new goal in life to make her laugh as much as possible.

Although he wants her to stay, after a few minutes, he can’t helpbut wonder if there’s anyone else out in the hall, anxiously waiting for theirchance to talk to him.

“Is... Dr. Cho said ‘they,’” Tony starts out haltingly. “Arethere... more people?”

“Of course,” Pepper assures him. “I’ll go get him.”

Without any explanation as to who ‘him’ is, Pepper kisses hischeek one more time and leaves. He watches her go, his nerves mounting again. Hehalf hopes she’ll come back with the next person. Her presence is starting tofeel familiar and comforting—like his body is remembering her before his brainis.

To Tony’s surprise, the next person that walks in is a kid.

He’s scrawny and a little short, and could be anywhere between thirteenand sixteen. His brown hair curls over his ears, his forehead.

When he saw Pepper for the first time, she had felt like a totalstranger. But as soon as he sees the kid, something in him seems to perk up, avoice in his head repeating I know him. Iknow him. How do I know him?

Tony sits up in his bed, watching the boy with furrowed eyebrows.Why does this kid seem so familiar?

And then their eyes meet.

The boy’s eyes are a warm brown. Tony doesn’t know how he knows, butimmediately he thinks ‘just like mine.’

Tony’s heart skips a beat. His breath catches in his lungs.

Oh mygosh.

That’s myson.

The thought comes with the quiet certainty of fact. And then there’sa rush of emotion so intense Tony is dizzy with it. A sense of awe fills him atthe thought that this living, breathing person is Tony’s kid, and with it an innate need to protect him from anythingthat could possibly hurt him.

The boy stops at the foot of the bed. Tony can see now that hiseyes are red from crying, and it feels like being punched in the stomach, animmediate cry of fix it resounding inTony’s mind.

“Come here,” Tony says, numbly patting the bed where Pepper hadsat before. The kid hesitantly settles himself next to Tony, their legsbrushing through the thin blanket.

Tony swallows hard, tries to take in everything about his son’sface. He’s beautiful, really, and he knows most fathers say that about theirnewborns, but this is Tony’s first time meeting his kid and he’s shaking andscared and already so completely in love with this kid that he doesn’t even know.

He raises a hand to the boy’s cheek, just like Pepper had done tohim. His eyebrows beetle as he looks at Tony, an almost pleading expression onhis face.

“What’s your name?” Tony whispers, hating himself for having toask.

Tony can almost hear the sob his son chokes back.

“Peter.”

Peter.

“I’m sorry, Peter.”

“What for?”

“For being such a terrible father that I forgot my own son,” Tonyexplains.

To his surprise, Peter freezes. Maybe he had hoped that Tony hadn’ttruly forgotten him, had still remembered who he was even if he couldn’tremember his name, only to be disappointed.

Tony almost apologizes again, but Peter stops him by slumpingforward and hugging Tony around the middle.

“It’s not your fault,” Peter assures him, his voice breaking.

Tony wraps his arms around Peter’s shoulders, buries his nose inthe kid’s hair. It’s comforting, if not familiar, and Tony is content to sitthere for a long time.

Pepper comes back with Dr. Cho and two other men who introducethemselves as Rhodey and Happy. Tony makes a face at their weird names and theyboth laugh. Peter is still tucked into his side and Tony is happy to keep himthere, combing fingers through his curly hair. He wonders for the first timewho Peter’s mom is. She must have curly hair just like Peter’s, he thinks.

To his surprise, Cho says that he’s free to leave. He’s even moresurprised to learn that this isn’t actually a hospital at all, but a medbay ina tower that he owns and lives in.

“Am I rich?” he asks at that, and everyone laughs so hard theycry, which Tony doesn’t understand at all.

Pepper and Peter lead him to the elevator after he’s changed outof the hospital gown.

“FRIDAY, take us to the penthouse,” Pepper asks politely.

“Of course, Miss Potts,” a woman’s voice answers. Tony jumps andlooks at the ceiling where the voice came from.

“That’s your AI, FRIDAY. You made her,” Peter explains.

“An AI?” Tony asks, his eyes alight in curiosity. “And she runsthe tower?”

“And a load of other things.”

“That’s amazing,” Tony says, grinning. Peter and Pepper both smileback at him.

“Wait until I show you your lab,” Peter promises.

The day speeds by to Tony. After Peter shows him around the lab,which had Tony feeling like a kid in a candy store, they mess around for acouple hours, Peter’s jaw drops and his eyes go huge as he realizes something.

“What?” Tony asks, self-conscious. As fun as the day has been, Tony’samnesia is a stumbling block in most of their conversations, a handicap theyhave to work around.

“You’ve never seen Star Wars,”Peter gasps.

“Umm... no,” Tony agrees, because he definitely doesn’t rememberever seeing it.

Peter grabs his wrist and doesn’t even wait for Tony to put histools down before starting to drag him from the room. “Come on. The only thingbetter than watching Star Wars forthe first time is watching someonewatch it for the first time.”

“That good, huh?” Tony asks, laughing, letting his kid tow himalong.

Peter stops dead and stares at him. “They’re the best movies inthe world.” Then he keeps pulling him along.

And so he spends the evening sprawled on the couch with Peter andPepper, eating pizza and watching Star Wars and Tony thinks maybe he doesn’tneed his memories back if this can be his life from now on.

When Darth Vader reveals himself to be Luke’s father, Tony isappropriately shocked.

“He just cut off his son’shand?” Tony asks, outraged. Peter nods against his shoulder, seeming pleasedwith Tony’s reaction. Tony uses a finger to tip Peter’s chin back so they’relooking at each other.

“I promise, even if I go dark side, I will never cut off yourhand, ok, baby?” Tony tells Peter in faux-seriousness.

“Good to know,” Peter laughs, tucking himself closer to Tony’sside. Pepper, on his other side, is watching them, and when Tony looks over ather she doesn’t clear the confusion off her face quite fast enough.

He wonders if maybe he and Peter don’t usually act like this, ifmaybe Peter is just relieved that he’s ok and is humoring his more tactiletendencies.

He thinks maybe he should be more concerned about the fact that hecan’t remember the previous years of his life, but there’s something... freeingabout it. He can just exist, in this moment, with his fiancée and his son, withno recollection of any past tension or grief or worries.

He isn’t sure why, but he has the terrible suspicion that a lot ofhis memories are not good ones.

That night he dreams of monsters and flying and fathomless spacespread out before him. Someone is screaming, and it’s him and Pepper and Peterall at the same time.

He wakes breathless, the void of his past a welcome reprieve.

The thing he finds weird, he decides as he wanders around thepenthouse the next day while Peter’s still asleep and Pepper’s at meetings, isthat there are no pictures of Peter as a child.

There are plenty of recent pictures, where Peter looks the same ashe does now, and Tony’s in many of them, but if the kid was his son, wouldn’the have baby pictures around? The kid with a trophy of some kind, a Christmas,a birthday?

Maybe they were estranged for a long time?

The thought that Tony could have had a son and not been allowednear him makes him sick.

There are no pictures of anyone that could be his parents either. Hegets a sinking feeling he knows why.

He almost asks FRIDAY, which is still the coolest thing he’s everheard of, but he doesn’t. He has a hard time admitting to himself it’s becausehe doesn’t want to know.

When Peter is finally up and dressed, he comes to Tony with a grinon his face.

“I have a surprise for you,” Peter says.

“Kid, I have no memories, everything is a surprise.”

Peter laughs and takes Tony by the wrist, leading him to theelevator. They go down past the labs, but stop before the Medbay. Tony waitsfor the doors to open with baited breath.

The room Peter leads him into covers the entire floor, and islined on every wall with gleaming metal statues in shades of red and gold.

“Woah,” Tony breathes, stepping out and turning slowly so he cansee more. “What are these?”

“These are your babies,” Peter says simply.

Tony arches an eyebrow at him. “You’re my baby. These are...awesome.”

Peter rolls his eyes, but he seems to be blushing a little, whichTony again finds odd. He was just stating a fact, what was there to beembarrassed about?

“You know what I meant,” Peter says.

“I... I made these?” Tonyasks. Peter had told him that he’s a world-class genius and a mechanic, but it’shard to believe when he has no memories of being either of those things.

“Every one.” Peter sounds proud, and Tony preens a little internally.His son is proud of him. It’s a good feeling.

“What are they for?”

“Brace yourself,” Peter warns, smiling. Tony waits. “Along withbeing a genius and a billionaire, you’re also a superhero. Called Iron Man.These are your suits.”

Tony looks again at the suits, walking slowly around the room andtaking in each one.

“I... I’m a superhero?”

“You’ve saved the world a few times,” Peter admits, tipping hishead against Tony’s shoulder as they stand together, looking at a clunkiermodel of the suit. The plaque under it reads “Mark III.”

“Wow,” Tony breathes. And then he notices the one suit differentfrom all the rest—instead of a robotic suit of armor, it’s more form-fitting,metallic red and blue with a spider emblem on its chest. He walks toward it. “Isthis mine, too?” He asks, confused.

“No, that’s actually... that one’s mine,” Peter tells him. “I’m asuperhero, too.”

Tony whips around to look at Peter. “I let you fightsupervillains?” he asks, suddenly appalled at his own parenting.

Peter shrugs. “You tried to stop me. It didn’t work. So now youprotect me, instead. You made this for me.”

“Are you... is it just the suit? Like me? Or do you...?” He doesn’treally know how to ask his kid if he has superpowers, so he trails offawkwardly. Luckily, Peter gets what he was trying to say.

“Want to find out?” he asks, grinning slyly.

If Pepper were home she definitely would have stopped them. But turnsout Tony’s decision making is very easily swayed when Peter’s enthusiastic andexcitable, and before he knows it, he’s suited up in one of the Iron Man suits,Peter’s in his Spider-Man suit, and they’re both exiting the tower from thebalcony on the 98th floor.

Tony nearly falls to his death the second he takes off, but FRIDAYhelps, and Peter gives him pointers as he swings along next to him, and soon he’sflying like it’s second nature. And maybe it is, to him, buried in his muscles,so deep that even amnesia can’t make him forget it.

He and Peter explore New York from the air, laughing and whoopingas they go, and Peter shows him what he can do: the strength, the wall-climbing,all of it. Finally, breathless, they both sit on the edge of the roof of askyscraper, their feet dangling hundreds of feet above the pavement.

Gosh, how could he ever forget this?This life, this amazing family, this job.

Or maybe his life wasn’t actually like this. Maybe he didn’t spendhis days flying around the greatest city in the world with his son at his side,happy and carefree. But the possibility of it is there now—he’s gotten a tasteof it and wants more. Even when Dr. Cho’s miraculous solution comes through, hecan’t imagine he’ll ever choose to go back to what he was before.

Peter’s rambling next to him, talking about a time when the two ofthem had stopped a bank robbery together. He sounds a little wistful. For thefirst time, Tony feels guilty about not remembering.

“This must be hard for you,” Tony says when Peter pauses.

Peter looks at him. He’s taken off his mask, figuring they’re sohigh up no one can see his face. He shrugs, bouncing his heels against theconcrete below him.

“I... I know I don’t... know you super well right now. I can’tremember when your birthday is, or your favorite food, or what you like to do.”

He stops and takes a breath, before reaching out and turning Peter’sface toward him. The kid’s eyes are wide, and there’s something sad about themthat makes Tony’s heart break.

“But I know I love you. I just look at you and there’s this weightin my chest and I just know that Ilove you so much.”

To his dismay, Peter’s eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, jeez,” Tony says, hastily moving to wipe the tears away asthey fall. “Do I not tell you that enough or something, Pete?”

“No, no, I just... I love you, Dad,” Peter whispers, and there’ssomething in his voice that Tony doesn’t understand, something guilty and sadand afraid.

“I-I’ll get my memories back soon,” he promises, hoping that willfix it.

“I know,” Peter says. He smiles sadly, than yanks on his mask andstands, leaping without hesitation off the building. Confused and a little hurt,Tony follows.

As they make their way home, all Tony can think about is how Peter’svoice broke when he called him Dad.

In his dream, Tony is holding Peter in his arms, cradled to hischest, looking down at his son’s face.

Peter’s crying. Tony’s crying, too.

He watches his son slowly turn to dust, and at the same rate, hisheart shatters into pieces.

The fragments coat his hands.

Tony wakes up and can’t breathe.

Whatever sick joke his imagination was playing on him, he wasn’thaving it. He stood from his bed and tiptoed down the hall. With a little helpfrom FRIDAY, he found Peter’s room and slipped inside.

He could hear the kid breathing and was instantly soothed as if itwere a lullaby.

Did Tony sing lullabies to Peter when he was a baby? He wonderswhat his favorites were, which ones Peter would babble to, which would calm himdown when he was crying.

Tony steps forward and crawls into his kid’s bed.

Peter stirs next to him, the shift in the mattress alerting him toTony’s presence. “M—Dad?” Peter asks groggily.

“Hi, baby. Sorry I woke you,” Tony whispers.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tony assures. The fear of the dream is behind him, the detailsslipping away. It wasn’t real, obviously. Peter’s here, warm and sleepy, andnot ash on his hands. “I had a weird dream, is all.”

Peter blinks himself into alertness. “What happened in it?”

“It doesn’t matter, it was just a dream.”

“Dr. Strange said to tell him if you access your memories in yourdreams. I need to know,” Peter insists, sitting up.

“Well, I know it wasn’t a memory, cause you died in this dream,alright? And clearly, you’re not dead, so not real,” Tony says, propped up onhis elbows.

Peter’s face goes pale, then he sighs. He lays back down, restinghis head on Tony’s chest and getting him to lay down in the process.

“You were holding me,” Peter says quietly. “And I started turningto dust in your arms.”

“How—” Tony starts, butPeter interrupts.

“That really happened. I... I died.”

“Oh my gosh,” Tonybreathes, horrified, wrapping his arms tight around his kid. He remembers thedream more vividly, all of a sudden, remembers the horrible red dirt and thepain in his chest and the absolute, desolate grief. “Oh my gosh.” There are tears in his eyes.

“It’s ok,” Peter whispers. He curls into Tony’s side like he wasmade to fit there. “You saved me.”

“My son. My son.” Tony holds Peter so close he can feel his heartbeating against his own chest. It’s the only thing that lets him sleep againthat night.

If his lifeis anything like his nightmares, he thinks before he falls asleep, he doesn’t want his memories back.

Apparently, the single memory is all Dr. Strange needs to bringthem all back. He explains, in a rather pompous way, that he’s a sorcerer whois going to retrieve Tony’s memories from where the other sorcerer who did thishid them.

That sounds like the most absurd thing in the world to Tony, buthe thinks about Peter yesterday on the roof, of Pepper that morning when she’dgone to kiss him and he’d stiffened in surprise and she’d turned away, tryingto hide her frown, and forces himself to sit still.

And just like that, his memories are back. It’s overwhelming atfirst, all the information pouring in like a computer rebooting. Then he’sjust... there.

He opens his eyes and sees Peter across the room and thinks, Oh, crap. Amnesia Tony was an idiot.

Now that he has his memories and knows that Peter is not, in fact,his son, he is absolutely mortified. And, judging by how much Peter’s avoidingeye contact, he’s not the only one.

Dr. Strange leaves in a spray of golden light and then Pepperlooks between the two of them and excuses herself and suddenly it’s just Tonyand Peter, not looking at each other.

Tony thinks he should be the adult here and speak first, but Peterbeats him to it.

“So, we’re all good now, right? I should probably go back home,May’s been wondering,” he rambles, already halfway out the door.

“Kid,” Tony calls. “Come on, we should, um... talk? About this?”

Peter’s shoulders slump. He seems to steel himself before he turnsaround and forces a smile. “It’s ok, Mr. Stark. I get it, you don’t need toexplain. Why else would a kid be hanging around, it was natural for you toassume...”

“Pete,” Tony tries to say, but Peter just plows over him.

“—And about what you said, it’s-it’s alright, I know it’s just causeyou thought I was-“

“Peter,” Tony saysloudly. There’s a beat.

“I’m sorry I called you ‘Dad,’” Peter whispers. Tony stopsbreathing for a moment. “It was selfish.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asks, his heart beating loud in his ears.

“I just wanted to see how it felt.” Peter’s voice is small,ashamed.

Oh, kid.

“Come here, Pete.” Peter doesn’t move. “Alright, I’ll come to you,”Tony says, and crosses the room until he can rest both hands on Peter’sshoulders so he can peer into his eyes.

“Kid, you have this all backwards. I didn’t love you because Ithought you were my son,” Tony murmurs. It’s strange how much easier it hadbeen to say when he had no memories of his father telling him he was weak, ofhis team leaving him beaten and bloody, of betrayal after heartbreak afterinjury. He tries to channel that Tony, the one that lived in the moment becausethere was no past to dwell on. He takes a breath and plunges on.

“I thought you were my son because I loved you. Because you walkedinto that room and I knew you, evenif I didn’t remember why.”

Peter’s expression cheers up marginally. “Really?”

“Yeah, buddy. Really. And I,” he hesitates for a second cause it’sfeelings and not necessary, but it’llmake Peter feel better. “I liked you calling me ‘Dad.’”

Peter gives him a watery smile. “I liked having a dad. For alittle while.”

Tony chucks him gently under the chin.

“You’ve always got me, kiddo.”

#Irondad and Spiderson #Tony Stark #Peter Parker #MCU #brotp: speaking of loyalty #my writing #fic #time for bed #I'm so tired I wrote the last part with my eyes closed so hope it isn't awful #Anonymous

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homespork-review · 5 years

Text

Spork Introduction

CHEL: Hi! I go by Chel, they or she pronouns, and I’m the one spearheading this project. I still like at least a fair percentage of Homestuck, but after the ending disappointed me a great deal, I got bitter, and when Hussie pissed me off further by Godwinning himself, I decided to do something about it. I’m no longer angry about it, but I felt I’d benefit from picking out what I hate from what I love so I can focus on the latter without annoyance getting in the way, and also to benefit my own writing efforts.

BRIGHT: Howdy! I’m Bright, and I got into Homestuck fairly recently. After ploughing through the archive and digesting for a while, I realised that I was thoroughly annoyed by how something enjoyable had fallen apart so comprehensively. I am looking forward to the time-honoured practice of ripping the story apart to identify its weak points and shout at them.

FAILURE ARTIST: Hello, I’m Failure Artist (call me FA for short), she/her/herself pronouns, and I’m so old-school they burned the school down. I was introduced to Homestuck via Something Awful’s Webcomic thread. I checked the old mspadventures.com site and the latest update was [S] John: Bite Apple. After watching that bizarre piece of animation, I had to know what the hell happened before then. I found I enjoyed the wit of the comic though I didn’t really care much about the plot. It was only when Act 5 came around that I became a serious fan. I currently have 122 Homestuck works on Archive of Our Own. I have a lot of free time, you see. I am very disappointed in how Homestuck ended. Possibly there was no completely satisfactory way it could end but it still could have been better. I feel like Hussie was a juggler who threw a lot of balls into the air and ignored them as they fell to the ground and some fans think not catching them was a master move since you’d expect he’d try to catch at least one. Sadly, lots of the problems with the ending are embedded deep within the canon.

TIER: Hi hi. I am Tier, a very late newcomer to the wonderful world of Homestuck (2018 reader!) and average fan overall. I love this webcomic to bits, but the low points are deep and I enjoy seeking out what the heck went wrong. Not particularly analytical myself, hope that's cool!

CHEL: Cool by us! We’ve already done plenty of analysing before we started, as you may realise from my Tumblr’s “homestuck ending hate” tag (at @chelonianmobile).

FAILURE ARTIST: But let’s put that aside for a moment and talk about the good stuff.

Homestuck is incredibly innovative. It is the first true webcomic. It’s not just a print comic posted online. It uses not just still images and words but also animation, music, and interactive games.

Homestuck is the latest adventure in the series MS Paint Adventures. MS Paint Adventures started as a forum adventure. In forum adventures, the OP acts as a sort of Dungeon Master and other forum members give them prompts. Andrew Hussie’s previous works under MS Paint Adventures were Jailbreak (which is little more than Hussie dicking with the prompters in scatological ways), Bard’s Quest (Choose-your-own-adventure), and the actually-completed Problem Sleuth. Problem Sleuth lacks the music and animation and despite the weird physics shenanigans is a simpler story than Homestuck. The characters aren’t even two dimensional.

Homestuck (and the previous MS Paint Adventures minus Bard’s Quest) are set up like adventure games. Adventure games are where the player is a protagonist in a story and are usually focused on puzzle-solving though sometimes there’s combat. In the beginning, these games were purely text. The player would type what they wanted to do and the game would spout back text describing it - assuming the computer parser understood you.

CHEL: Oh god, I HATED that. I wasn’t around for the heyday but I’ve played a couple and

Pale Luna

was barely an exaggeration (horror warning).

FAILURE ARTIST: As graphics improved, adventure games started using them, but the commands were still in text. Only later was the point-and-click interface created and players didn’t have to guess what exact sentence the computer wanted them to type. Homestuck and the other MS Paint Adventures play with that frustration while paying tribute to the genre. The game within the comic uses RPG elements but the comic itself is set up like those good ol’ adventure games. In the beginning, Homestuck was guided by commands from forum members. Even after he closed the suggestion box, he used memes and fanon created by readers.

CHEL: How good an idea this was varies, as we’ll be showing.

We probably don’t need to describe Homestuck much more. Everyone here who hasn’t read it will doubtless have heard of it. Almost everyone with a Tumblr will have seen fanart, almost anyone at a convention will have seen cosplay. Shoutouts have been made to it in professional works such as the cartoon Steven Universe, and the Avengers fandom latched onto “caw caw motherfuckers” as a catchphrase for Hawkeye to the point that it’s now often forgotten it didn’t originate from there.

FAILURE ARTIST: The Homestuck fandom term “sadstuck” for depressing stories/headcanons somehow leaked into other fandoms. Using second-person is actually cool now and not just for awkward reader fics. Astrology will never be the same again.

CHEL: Now, in the interests of fairness, we will say that when Homestuck is good, it’s amazing, and it’s good often. The characters at least start out appealing and are all immediately distinguishable; even with the typing quirks stripped, it’s easy to tell who said what. The magic system is one of the coolest I’ve ever seen, who doesn’t love classpecting themselves and their faves? Hussie also shows a lot of talent for the complex meta and time travel weirdness, and it is fascinating to watch a timeline thread unfurl. And whatever else one says, it’s a fascinating story that’s captivated millions. I think it is deserving of its title as a modern classic.

However, as the years have passed, we have ended up noticing problems, big and small, and they nagged at us until we decided it had to be dissected. Our intention here isn’t to tear apart something we loathe entirely. It’s to take a complex work and pick out what works from what doesn’t. As I said, when Homestuck is good, it’s very very good. But when it’s bad, we get problems of every scale from various offensive comments to dragging pace to characters ignoring problems and solutions right under their noses to an absolute collapse of every theme and statement the comic stood for before.

The comic is ludicrously long; eight thousand pages, or thereabouts, to be specific. Officially one of the longest works of fiction in the English language, in fact. Naturally, we can’t riff that word by word in any timeframe short of decades, and we can’t include every picture, even if that was permitted under copyright law. Instead, as comics have been done here before, we’ll recap most of the time, and include sections of dialogue and pictures when particularly relevant to a point.

Here are the counts we’ll be using, possibly to be added to later if we find we forgot anything. Most of these counts will only start to climb post-Act 5, but we’ll be keeping track of them from the beginning. Most of them could have been fixed with a decent editor, which is sadly a hazard of webcomics, but still frustrating to read.

TIER: Note: we started this endeavor months before the thought of a "technically not but still we'll count it" set of canon epilogues were a twinkle in the eyes of the fandom. That is, by the way, a whole 'nother can of worms that will be dealt with at a later date if that ever comes around. We're judging Homestuck the Webcomic as a whole, so no after the credits stuff is to be noted for whatever reason.

ALL THE LUCK - Vriska Serket constantly gets a pass or gets favored over every other character. This count is added to every time she pulls some shenanigans with which others wouldn’t get away. ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY? - Sometimes it’s not entirely clear whether a thing is supposed to be taken seriously or not. We don’t require hand-holding through every joke, but when, for example, we’re supposed to take one instance of violence seriously while a similar case is supposed to be funny, this count goes up. CALL CPA PLEASE - Instances of creepy sexual behaviour (and perhaps particularly gratuitous acts of violence) from the thirteen-year-old cast. Now, mileage may vary on this one. We won’t pretend that thirteen-year-olds are perfect pure angels, especially thirteen-year-olds growing up in what is openly supposed to be a nightmarish dystopia. However, when full pages focus on said behaviour, there comes a point of it being very uncomfortable to read. Clarification: does not refer to cases where the adults do something heinous, this is strictly when the kids do. CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS - When an offensive joke or comment is made, particularly when not justified by the personality of the character involved, or presented in the narration as being okay. GET ON WITH IT! - When the pace drags. ‘Nuff said. Hazard of the format, but it makes archive bingeing very annoying. GORE GALORE - For unnecessary and/or excessive torture porn which is treated less seriously because it features troll characters, and therefore less “realistic” blood colours. HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC - When the comic does something mentioned in How Not To Write A Novel, and it isn’t justified by the webcomic format. HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING - Characters repeatedly neglect to do something about or even react to terrible happenings, either because they don’t care even if they should or they forget they have the capacity. Not necessarily anything to do with their magical powers, either - characters ignore personal problems that are right under their noses, too. IN HATE WITH MY CREATION - For reasons that are unclear, Hussie chose to create characters he apparently hated writing, or at least ignored in favour of others. Every time he’s clearly disrespecting one of his own characters, this goes up, whether it’s by nerfing their powers or changing their personalities. RELATIONSHIP GOALS? - Romantic relationships in particular get fumbled quite often. Ship Teasing is used with skill, but that skill tends to be lost when the characters actually hook up. Fumbled friendships and family relations can also come under this heading. SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER - When characters other than Vriska get away with something morally questionable. Covers everything from sexual harassment to not trying to save people from the apocalypse. SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS - Later on in Homestuck’s run, Hussie tried to make up for the offensive humour and casual -isms counted by Clockwork Problematykks above. How successful he was at this varied. This count goes up whenever an attempt at progressivism is waved in front of the reader but doesn’t stand up under scrutiny. WHAT IS HAPPENING?? - When the already confusing plot kicks it up a notch. Admittedly this is as much a selling point of the comic as it is an issue, but either way, we’re going to keep track. Points will be added to when it gets confusing, and taken away when a previous confusing thing is explained adequately. WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM - What is shown about Alternia repeatedly contradicts what we’re told about how different it is from Earth. For example, trolls still use heteronormative terms even after it’s established they reproduce bisexually, and the demonstration of the class structure doesn’t always add up. This count goes up every time that happens. It also goes up every time something happens which strongly implies Hussie was envisioning the human kids as white, despite his later claims that they were always supposed to be “aracial”, and every time their economic statuses don’t add up either.

#homespork #homestuck #review #literary critique #sporking #let's read #reread #homestuck meta

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tenacious-scripturient · 5 years

Text

a run-down of / my thoughts on the novel ‘trade secrets’

so! i’ve recently finished this beautifully written novel by @bettsican, and am anxiously anticipating for the second book in the trilogy! (seriously, give it a read. it’s a great lgbtq+ thriller and mystery story, i promise you’ll love it!! you can find trade secrets in many places, including amazon, where it’s only $6)

as i was reading it, i noted down all the thoughts i had. it was fun, interesting, and kept me on the edge of my seat!

oh, and spoiler warning, of course.

Chapter One

okay. this is interesting. why are they in paris? or rather, why are they NOT in paris?

2080. damn.

who is cooper hall and why is he important i want to knowwwwwwww

Chapter Two

HOLY FUCK

CHAPTER ONE WAS A PROLOGUE

OKAY IF I DIDNT NEED TO BEFORE I HAVE TO READ IT NOW

-ahem- anyway

nate literally everything you think of has to relate to smoking, doesnt it?

clyde you absolutely bitch raccoon

im sort of piecing together what’s happening here? either way this is a SUPER interesting concept.

i love the idea of every word being important

nate look at you being a nice guy. testing the CAPS before giving them to ur clients

or maybe it’s just good business

but whatever

okay, so credits are money in this world. but how do people get them? obviously there’s what nate’s doing but what’s the legal way to get them? ill probably find out soon

if it wasnt explicitly said by betty that nate ends up with another guy (i forget his name. cooper?) i would have thought audry was the romantic interest

audry you loving caring hypocrite

i feel like she’s gonna be one of my favourite characters

who is this young man that dares disturb nate’s slumber

cooper? cooper.

Chapter Three

nate get up

u turtle get up and hurry down the stairs

or—okay you can fall into that drywall that works too

ohhhhh so nate is a detective. that’s interesting

i also love this idea of keeping secrets (haha trade secrets)

dude are you sure that your embarrassing entrance wasn’t the ONLY reason you blushed? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIG—

nate ur spending an awful lot of time looking at his features you funky little bisexual

oh damn ur smarter than u seem, just watching him take a single breath and you’re already making connections. i guess that’s why he’s a detective

im gonna assume this is cooper, even tho it never explicitly says so

i feel like we aren’t gonna get his name for a while, bc clients and whatnot and not getting attached

Chapter Four

NATE WEARS GLASSES???????

that’s kind of cute

im lowkey gay rn

anyway

NATE CALLED HIM SWEET-FACED AND PRETTY-FACED O K A Y

oh he has curly brown hair

and oh the glasses aren’t real glasses. oh. the use is actually pretty cool!

so from what im gathering civilians are people who don’t live in sanctuaries, and lemnis are people who do?

cooper sweetie why do u need so much money what have u done

nate’s pretty clever

HAH I WAS RIGHT WE AREN’T GONNA GET HIS NAME FOR A WHILE

well that’s that i guess

Chapter Five

he’s so timid awh

hehe he’s on nate’s bed

sorry

goddammit man calm down or else you’re gonna get everyone in a 5-mile radius around you arrested

wait…. zero-credit balance?? didn’t he just have a few hundred thousand credits???

OH THIS IS A FAKE PROFILE HE MADE

so cooper isn’t his real name either

Chapter Six

oh we’re back to 2080

oh they’re back in the apartment??

it was obvious before but at this point it’s confirmed that they’re going to be doing some travelling together or something

Chapter Seven

this is getting really interesting i dont wanna stop reading and type everything that comes to mind

these are gonna be shorter now hehe

“i’d been a petri dish of mixed emotions and wild chemical changes for half the day” I LOVE THAT METAPHOR LMFAO

what happened with nate’s mom

i want to know

my prediction: she wanted him to either change up or completely remove the chip bc she did something horrible? or maybe she just wanted to leave idk im bad at predictions

either way it said she was crazy

o h

that’s why he’s terrified of cutting the chip

poor nate

Chapter Eight

oh this is strangely intimate

very intimate

i feel that, because cooper has such high pain tolerance (or doesn’t show pain), he has some backstory for it

Chapter Nine

lmao nate just went off didnt he

THEIR FLIRTING IS CUTE FHJKJDLSKAJDKLSJAK

also is being lgbtq+ widely accepted as the norm in this setting? bc nate considered cooper to be flirting with him

ughhhh it’s so good so far, from the character interactions to the suspense, especially in this chapter

Chapter Ten

rude cooper is rude, rude nate is even more rude

F E D O R A

“coop”

Chapter Eleven

aw i love jimmy already—

WHAT THE FUCK COOPER

EXCUSE ME

JIMMY

WHAT

HOW COULD YOU

goddammit

what the fuck is cooper hiding

cooper oh my god

you

you’re playing a dangerous game, mate

are you really that heartless

“deceptively innocent eyes” you got that right

this chapter hurted

thanks a lot jess

Chapter Twelve

“like a weeping wound on the canvas of my home” this has got to be one of my favourite similes ever omg

the way nate’s describing cooper makes my heart hurt awh

i feel like butterflies have some sort of symbolism

maybe being ugly on the outside and beautiful on the inside, or vice versa? the vice versa was basically cooper lol

aye we finally get to meet audry!!

PEANUT BUTTER AND TRICYCLE I WANNA HEAR ABOUT THAT

i love audry omg

IT’S NATE’S BIRTHDAY?? HAPPY BIRTHDAY YA SMOKEY CONMAN

“bright eyes” is the cutest nickname ever

Chapter Thirteen

oh we’re back to 2080

wait what they’re trapped together

is this story gonna have a sad ending

please no

Chapter Fourteen

OH IT’S THE LINE ON THE COVER

i like that

nate’s back to where he left cooper

also if it wasn’t obvious before, it’s definitely obvious now that nate and cooper or gonna find each other again. hm. not sure how i feel about that

kind of pissed at cooper but also we need him for the story to progress

O H

COOPER IM ONLY KIND OF PISSED AT YOU NOW

IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE

NATE IVE SAID IT BEFORE BUT YOU’RE PRETTY CLEVER

also who is ‘her’?

COOPER WANTS TO BECOME A?? LEMNIS?? GODDAMMIT MAN

I CAN FEEL THE PRESSURE RISING

nate’s in danger

wow this chapter is

a lot

i need a break

-cue a break-

Chapter Fifteen

i’m back

eisley is a cool last name

oh wait so even people outside of sanctuaries can become a lemniscate

i’m still not 100% sure what a lemniscate is

it’s so ironic elijah’s last name is king, but i assume you did that on purpose. i also like the slight nod to royalty by his first name

COOPER’S BACK

why hello there

Chapter Sixteen

they’re

competing

to become a lemniscate

and one of them dies

do they fight back?? is that why they end up in prison??? so many thoughts are going through my head right now

nate, your fantasy about becoming a lemniscate is surprisingly dark. i’m totally down for it

Chapter Seventeen

oh wait so joshua is cooper’s blackmailer?? Interesting that it’s a lemniscate

i keep forgetting nate is wearing glasses

cooper, my dude, calm the fuck down. you’re gonna get yourself and nate killed

it’s the return of soft™ nate

Chapter Eighteen

oh there’s another one

oh this is very ominous i don’t like

Chapter Nineteen – Twenty-One

okay i was eating while i read so i couldn’t type here but just know that these chapters were really really good

Chapter Twenty-Two

wait fuck what’s happening this is all happening so fast

cooper brought out his gun,,,, it’s aimed at ivonne,,,,,,, they’re walking,,,

OH IT WAS A FAKE KIDNAPPING

nice

i like ivonne a lot

Chapter Twenty-Three

the entire story just changed course

this isn’t just about cooper and nate anymore, it’s about a corrupt government

NATE AND COOPER ARE HOLDING HANDS AS THEY RUN THROUGH THE BARRIER THAT’S SO ROMANTIC

also the line “only the dead are ever truly free” is beautiful

THAT’S WHERE PARIS COMES IN

THEY ALL GO TO FRANCE DON’T THEY

I’m so curious to find out where this story is going

Chapter Twenty-Four

this is doin me a confusion

but tbh these hints/ visions of the future, if you could call them that, are giving just enough information to keep me super interested. props to you

Chapter Twenty-Five

AUDRY STOP TEASING NATE

just joking keep doing it, this might actually get their relationship somewhere

ivonne is definitely my favourite character so far. she reminds a little of melia from xenoblade chronicles, in that they’re both ‘royalty’ that rebel. also they’re badass and smart

oh fuck the brother is here

okay thank god he’s not an asshole

oh god things are happening again

Chapter Twenty-Six

nate stop ogling at cooper when you’re in a life-or-death situation

holy shit the lemniscate are messed up

this crew is pretty great, it sucks that it’s almost the end of the book

WAIT I FORGOT THERE’S A SECOND COMING SOON HECK YEAH

anyway

YES COOPER PULL THROUGH

awwww yiss

Chapter Twenty-Seven

O H

oh my god i ship them so hard

THEY KISSED

THIS IS SO STEAMY

this chapter was art thank you so much for this

Chapter Twenty-Eight

AHAHAH AUDRY

once again, i’d like to state how much i love her

oh the tension just grew twentyfold

this is… great

oh god nate what are you planning, you just got together with cooper and now you want to leave him?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

what’s with all the dancing?

Chapter Thirty

oh god the description

so he’s going around and giving people credits, all the while confessing things that would help the lemniscate track him down. i assume this means he’s going to die, but why?

just what are you planning?

oh we’re back to clyde, the guy who started it all. it feels full circle

Chapter Thirty-One

HE’S MAKING HIS CHIP SHOW THAT HE’S DEAD

that’s much smarter

FUCK

NATE YOU IDIOT—COOPER’S REAL NAME

SHIT NOW KING IS HERE

everything’s going downhill now isn’t it

Chapter Thirty-Two

wait that took an even darker turn

there’s so much happening right now i can’thandlethis

cooper and nate are couple goals

Chapter Thirty-Three

king isn’t as horrible as i thought

still horrible, but not a monster

NEVER MIND YOU’RE A FUCKING MONSTER WHAT IS THIS BS

cooper

actually

shot

nate

Chapter Thirty-Four

OH MY GOD

WHAT

THIS IS HOW YOU END IT

I CAN’T

HOW DARE YOU

i need the next book

like right now

what the hell

Final Thoughts

okay so this book was SO good, and so well written. like damn

aside from that horrible ending how could you do this to me

i’m joking, it was an incredible and emotional ending, i loved it and hated it at the same time

it very rarely felt static, and especially in the first half, there was a good mix of action and backstory/description. it was never boring

the story is just,,, so unique. i seriously haven’t read anything like it, EVER

the world-building?? Is?? so vast?? and insane??

the increasing tension and speed as the story progressed is perfect, i felt my heart beating faster the more i read

anyway that’s all from me

this book was amazing i cannot wait for the next

#writeblr #other writeblrs #trade secrets #phahbiyah speaks

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mireu01 · 5 years

Text

Flowery Words (ateez florist!san oneshot)

A/N: @wooyoungist Surprise!! It’s me, your atiny secret valentine hehe. Here’s a little something I wrote for you as a gift. I hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine’s day!!

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 3.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bell above you rings as you open the front door of the little shop. A wave of warm air hits your face as you enter, carrying with it a multitude of perfumes. No scent is distinct, but your nose is pleased with the perfect blend of fragrances. The delicate morning rays seep in through the window, bringing alive all the blues, reds and yellows in the room—a vibrant spectacle of colours for your eyes.

“Good morning,” a melodious voice greets you.

You spot a young man behind the counter, a cute smile on his face as he watches you approach him. You remark that you hadn’t noticed him upon entering, possibly because he suited his floral surroundings so well.

“How can I help you today?”

You forget how to speak for a moment, all too amazed by the beauty of the little flower shop, as well as the man in front of you. Seeing his unwavering smile gives you back your words however, but they still only come out as a stutter. “I’m looking for something decorative… maybe even seasonal.”

He nods his head in thought. Going around the counter, he walks past you to pick flowers from different corners of the room. When he returns to your side, he’s holding a bouquet of yellow, orange and red flowers. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, in awe of how something of such beauty was put together so quickly. Your hand reaches up to touch one of the flowers, and you bend down to take in its scent. A small smile creeps on your face. When you stand upright, you notice that the man’s expression mirrors yours. You hold eye contact for a short second, before he quickly turns away to place the flowers in a basket.

“So are these flowers for a special occasion?” he asks as he rearranges the bouquet.

“Sort of. My family and I are opening our restaurant today. We just wanted to have some flowers on display to decorate the place a little more.”

He gasps, “That’s the new restaurant across the street, right? I guess that makes us neighbours.”

You let out a small laugh, finding his words a little silly, but ultimately really cute. “I guess it does.”

He giggles in return, finally sliding the basket over to you. After paying him and thanking him for the flowers, you head for the door. You don’t get very far before he stops you however. When you turn back around, he seems to be huddled next to a shrub. He snips at the little bush, then approaches you holding a freshly cut stem. It’s adorned with the angelic white petals of small, delicate flowers. You wonder for a moment if he forgot to add it to the bouquet. But when he presents the flower to you in his outstretched hand, he seems to be encouraging you to take it. The sweet smile on his face makes your face grow hot, and you can only blink in confusion.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I just feel like my cooking isn’t good enough.”

The man in front of you, San, shakes his head. His hands never stop handling the flowers, rearranging their position to the liking of his artistic eye.

“That doesn’t mean you should stop trying. People naturally seek perfection, but their perception of it is constantly changing. That’s why no one is ever truly satisfied with their own work.” Laying his hands on the counter, he turns to you. “You started cooking to help your parents, right?”

“Yes,” you say simply.

“Then cook for them. Don’t cook to be number one. Try your best for them, and they’ll see and appreciate that.”

Looking down at your feet, you let San’s words sink in. You can only respond with a tiny shrug of your shoulders. You hear him walk towards a different part of the shop, his pace slow as if searching for something.

“How about this,” he begins, “when you get back from school later, you prepare something and I’ll come by and taste it myself. Then I’ll give you my unbiased opinion.”

By the end of his sentence, San is next to you again. In his hand is a dainty yellow flower. He holds it out to you, close enough that you can count its eight little petals. The sight is reminiscent of when you first met him in this same shop.

“What do you say?”

When you look up at him, you see him smiling. You notice the dimples on his cheeks, and how it makes him look even cuter than he already does. You can’t stop the heat from rising to your face.

“A-alright,” you mumble, not being able to reject him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggle as San continues to scroll through the album of pictures on his phone. Finding a selfie of himself, he points out to you the new toy plush that he’s posing with. He goes on and on, telling you everything about it. He’s been at it for over thirteen pictures now, but it doesn’t seem to bother you . On the contrary, you actively listen to him speak so sweetly and so passionately. To you, this side of San is even more endearing than the side he shows his customers, and you were happy that you’ve discovered it.

The hanging bell rings at the front of the store. You wonder who could possibly be coming in, as the flower shop is usually empty at this hour. When you turn around to see who’s at the door, you’re surprised to find your mother entering. When she spots you at the counter next to San, she doesn’t seem any less shocked than you.

“Mom? I thought you were prepping the kitchen? What are you doing here?” You approach her, taking her hands in yours.

“You never came back to the restaurant, so I assumed you went to school early. I came here to get the new flowers myself.”

You stare at her for a moment, confused by her words. The chime of a grandfather clock resonates throughout the little shop and catches your attention. You look over, and when you notice where the hour hand is hovering, you choke on the floral scented air.

“It’s already 10?!”

You almost pass out—but you can’t let yourself faint when you’re already going to be late for your ten o’clock exam. You practically yank your hands away from your mother’s, making her jump in surprise. You stumble as you run back to the counter where San is still standing. He watches in slight amusement as you attempt to scoop up all your belongings in one swift movement, but fail miserably.

“I’m really sorry, but I have to go. I’ll just text you later,” you tell San as you pick up some of your things that had rolled to the floor.

You don’t give him time to respond before sprinting back to the front door, kissing your mother’s cheek on the way out.

As you run down the now busy street, you glance down at the flower in your hand. You received it from San just a few minutes earlier, and you managed to take it with you in your rush. You inspect the lilac purple petals for any damage that could have been done to them, paying little attention to your surroundings and almost getting run over in the process.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You momentarily stop stirring the pan on the stove, looking over your shoulder when you hear your mother call your name. Your brows furrow in confusion as she takes the wooden spoon from your hands and motions you to take over her place at the cash register. The grin on her face is suggestive, but you only understand it when you turn around; standing in front of the counter is San. He looks around the small restaurant, waiting patiently for someone to take his order—which in this case was going to be you. When his eyes sweep over to land on you, the corners of his lips curve up into a small smile.

“You’re here early today,” you say once you come face-to-face with him. Your words come out as more of a question rather than a statement.

“Well I know that you have classes later today,” he begins, moving his hand from behind his back, “so I wanted to come see you before you left.”

Presented before you, between San’s soft fingers, is a single exquisite flower. Its petals look as if they were glowing white, fading into a light yellow at its base. The striking contrast between the snow white petals and the forest green leaves makes the flower even more eye-catching.

“Oh,” you breathe out, stunned by both his words and his offering. Hesitantly, you reach out to take it from him.

At that moment, you suddenly become very aware of your surroundings, and you feel embarrassed by what just unfolded. You had, to a certain degree, become accustomed to San’s flowers, but only in private. This was the first time he’d given you one around other people, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. You clutch the flower near your chest, trying to hide the evidence of your friend’s incredibly charming gesture. To your horror, you hear giggles coming from behind you. When you look back, you spot your parents whispering to each other, stealing glances in your direction. You almost snap at San for doing something relatively gossip-worthy in a public space. But when you look up at him, the innocent smile on his face makes your heart melt just a little.

“T-thanks,” you mumble instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re fully aware of how disrespectful you’re being. But no matter how hard you try to stay focused on your conversation with this young man, you repeatedly get distracted by San. You wonder to yourself where you’d gone wrong; why would San not speak to you anymore? It’s blatantly obvious to you that he’s avoiding you. Heck, he’s been standing a few feet away from you for minutes now, but has yet to acknowledge your presence or even look in your direction.

“What do you think?” the young man asks.

You blink at your customer. Eventually you process that you were just asked a question. You let out a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, could you please repeat that?”

“I was wondering if you were interested in having dinner with me tomorrow evening,” he says with a chuckle.

This time round, you hear his words a little more clearly. Before you can give a proper response, you see San move in the corner of your eye. You don’t even try to hide your interest anymore, turning your head to watch him. He steps forward, taking the bag of food from your mother. You see a small smile on his lips when he thanks her, but it quickly disappears when he sees you. Turning around, he heads for the door.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Tomorrow evening... Could you, uh”—you glance one last time at the customer— “just give me a sec. I’ll be right back.”

You follow after San. By the time you step out of the restaurant, he’s already across the street, entering the flower shop. As you’re about to take a step forward, you notice a flower pot sitting outside the shop. You note that it’s the first time you’ve seen it among the other exterior displays. The pale yellow flowers planted in it stood out from the surrounding greenery, as if making a statement to those that pass by.

At that exact moment, you are reminded that about a dozen customers are waiting for you inside the restaurant. Reluctantly, you decide against going after San, and force yourself to head back inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stare at San’s stoic expression. It’s so unfamiliar to you; it would have made you uncomfortable, if not for his handsome features. You can’t help but think of how much you miss his smile.

You clear your throat, expecting him to look at you, but he doesn’t even blink. His eyes and hands give the flowers his full attention, determined to get the job done quickly.

“I learned something yesterday.” You pause for a moment, but continue when you don’t get a response from San, “One of my regular customers gave me these beautiful red flowers. He said that he bought them from your store.”

Abandoning the bouquet, San goes to stand behind the counter. “That’ll be sixty-two thousand won,” he tells you, ignoring your story.

“He said you helped him pick them out.” You search for his averting eyes as you pass him the money. “Apparently you told him that those flowers symbolize love and passion. Is that true? Do those flowers actually have symbolism?”

San finally looks at you. Staring into his eyes, you see something in them that you can’t quite decipher. They try to tell you something, but you have a hard time reading the emotion behind them.

“The flowers that you gave me… did they mean anything?”

San slides the flowers closer to you, never breaking eye contact. His voice is so monotone, it frightens you. “Thank you for stopping by. I hope you have a nice day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stare at the bouquet of pastel purple flowers sitting on the counter. Picking it up, you notice a tag hanging from the stem wrap. On it reads your name, written in black ink.

“What is this?” you ask your mother.

When you look up at her, she just shrugs. You manage to catch the small smile on her face before she heads into the back kitchen; you’re left alone in the main area of the small restaurant.

Looking back down at the counter, you spot a little booklet hiding underneath the flowers. Taking it in your hands, you realize that it’s handmade. On the cover, in the same handwriting as the tag, is written Choi San’s Floriography.

Turning to the first page of the booklet, you find a picture of a white flower, and the words White Hibiscus Flower - Beauty written below it. You vaguely remember seeing the flower somewhere before. Realization hits you when you read the paragraph at the bottom of the page.

I remember when you first stepped inside the flower shop. You looked so beautiful, I forgot how to speak for a second… I’m not sure how, but I managed to find the courage to give you this flower before you left.

Even in your shock, you manage to let out a small laugh. You recall the first time you met San in the flower shop. The image of him smiling brightly among all the colourful flowers would stay engraved in your memory forever.

Turning the page, a picture of a familiar yellow flower was taped to the paper. Coreopsis Flower - Cheerfulness. Since the day he gave you that flower, San had become your source of comfort.

I always loved seeing you happy. When you came to the flower shop one day feeling insecure about your cooking, I wanted to do nothing more than make you smile again.

The third page had Purple Freesia Flowers. Next to its name was the word Friendship. You remembered having that flower on your desk next to you while doing your exam. It helped you calm down while you were freaking out over showing up thirty minutes late to the test.

Over time, I saw you as more than just the pretty girl from the restaurant across the street. I loved spending time with you. You were always invested in everything I had to say.

You gasp when you read Secret Love on the next page, underneath the picture of a white flower. It was the same as the one San gave you months ago when he came to the restaurant. The Gardenia Flower.

I was a coward for too long. I was too scared to tell you that I liked you that day, so I gave you this flower, hoping maybe you could understand what I wasn’t able to say with words.

Your mouth hangs open as you read the words again. It was hard for you to fully understand what San was trying to say. You read over the next pages quickly, trying to find a more explicit explanation in his short paragraphs.

Yellow Hyacinth Flowers - Jealousy. When I noticed, a few weeks ago, that one of your customers was interested in you, I tried not to let it affect me. But seeing you talk to him everyday didn’t do me any good. Whenever I would pass by these flowers inside the shop, I felt like they were mocking me, reminding me of how jealous I was actually feeling.

Red Petunia Flowers - Resentment. I lied to that guy when I told him petunias represent love and passion. When he came in to buy flowers for you, it just made me angry. I acted immature and gave him flowers that reflected my own emotions instead.

On the last page, you find a picture of flowers identical to the ones you hold in your hands.

Purple Hyacinth Flowers - Apology. I realize now that this whole time I was just angry at myself. I was angry for being afraid to tell you my feelings. I felt as if I didn’t deserve your friendship if I was hiding that from you… so I kept my distance. But I wasn’t mindful of how that could hurt you. I’m really sorry for ignoring you for so long. I hope that you could accept my sincere apology, because I think I’m finally ready to be honest with you…

Slowly lowering the booklet, you let San’s words sink in. You get your brain in gear, trying to figure out what to make of all of this. Without wasting another second, you get on your feet and bolt out the restaurant. You notice how dark it is outside now. You’re relieved to see lights still on in the flower shop across the street. You aren’t exactly sure what you plan on saying to San, but you run over anyway.

The bell above you rings as you open the front door of the little shop. A wave of warm air hits your face as you enter, carrying with it a multitude of perfumes. No scent is distinct, but your nose is pleased with the perfect blend of fragrances. The soft glow from the pendant lights fills the little space, bringing alive all the blues, reds and yellows in the room—a vibrant spectacle of colours for your eyes. You spot San at the counter, who looks up when he hears the front door opening. You’re quick to approach him.

“San...”

You slow when you see the paper he holds out to you. Taking it in your hands, you look over the picture stuck to it. Even before reading the name below it, you recognize the pictured flower as a red rose. Love.

“I’m tired of being a coward,” San says.

When you look up, he’s standing next to you. In his hands is a bouquet. The deep red petals of the flowers look almost like velvet. Red roses. He tilts them towards you, letting you see the heart of each individual flower.

“I wanted you to know that I like you,” he starts, looking you in the eye. “I’m not asking you to reciprocate these feelings, but—”

You didn’t think before kissing him on the cheek. It just happened. You feel your whole face heat up as you pull away. Brows raised, San stares at your blushing face.

“Don’t worry… I… like you too.”

In response to your mumbled words, a smirk slowly finds its way on his lips.

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez san #choi san #florist!san #oneshot #atiny secret valentine

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rkohsehun · 6 years

Text

one step closer**

…on going call 00:07:17

"when were you planning on telling us?!"

"surprise?"

for someone who had kept something as big as debuting in an idol group, sehun kept a pretty bright grin on his face. his mom sounded beyond pissed, and the glare she's giving him is the meanest he's seen, and that's saying something considering he's never been at the receiving end of it ever. even the way his father looks at him feels like he's betrayed them both... sort of... and he thinks he understands where they're coming from. suddenly he feels bad, but he knows they're also feeling a little down knowing he's kept this news from them for so long.

"I really am sorry i kept it a secret, but i kind of didn't want to jinx it," he explains, giving his mom a small smile. it was a dick move, he knows, but in his defense, he was technically not allowed to tell anyone outside of sphere. it was his orders. and knowing how bad he is at keeping secrets, he had decided that telling absolutely no one (a total lie. he did tell one or two people, if course, but he needed to do it at the time) lest he accidentally let the truth slip out. there was a loud sigh from the other line, and he practically feels the tension ease away from his mother's shoulders as it deflates. this makes him feel better almost immediately, knowing it's a clear sign that he's not about to have an earful despite knowing how much he deserves it.

"what are we going to do with you, honestly..."

this makes sehun chuckle fondly. "it's a nice surprise, though, right?"

"it is," and this time, when his mother looks up, he couldn't deny the love. even from the other side of the screen. he suddenly misses them - misses his mom. "you have always been our stubborn baby chick. i should have expected you pulling something like this, though, really," she chuckles.

"sorry," he replies, but his grin only turns brighter, if that's even possible.

"so?" his father starts, as emotionless as ever as he plops himself down on the couch beside his mother. he's in his casual clothes. skipped work, perhaps? "you're allowed to talk about convex now, right?"

"right," sehun laughs. he's always told he's got his snarky personality from his father. he doesn't miss the way his father stressed on their group's name. "okay, so there are thirteen of us--"

"thirteen? and you share a dorm with all of them?"

okay, so there was a lot he hadn't told them. "...yes."

there was a moment of silence.

sehun actually gulps when he sees his father's eye twitching. if it were three years ago, he would have whined to them about it. heck, he probably wouldn't have agreed to it in the first place. but in his attempt to find independency, in the short amount of time he's spent in korea, he's found himself growing up - growing out of that spoiled life. he's happy, despite all the things he knows his parents would have frowned at (and he's not only talking about the small dorm he's currently sharing with the members). and for that, he holds up a hand just in time to cut his mom from hysterically insisting they seriously needed a bigger place to stay at.

"i know you only mean well, but we're okay," he starts, placing his hand back on his lap when she thankfully stays silent. "it's... uncomfortable in every sense of the word, but we're alright. we-- i won't learn anything if you hire them maids and butlers for us like i know you want to do. if we're going to do this, we're definitely doing it all from scratch," and he means it. most people wouldn't understand him, probably, but he really doesn't want to return to the life where he practically didn't know how to do anything on his own. he could barely wash the dishes without breaking them before. now, he's able to do small loads of laundry (thank you, hugo hyung) and remembers to separate the whites.

it was his father who finally broke the silence. "i remember you trying to convince us into letting you study in korea and pursue being an idol, locking yourself in your room until we said yes. and you've broken a lot of our rules, since then, sehun," his voice was so even, emotionless that sehun suddenly feels like he's being scolded. for the very first time, sehun is going to get an earful. his brothers will have a fit. "we agreed that you'd be staying with your grandparents during your studies, to call at least twice a month just so we know you're okay. then we get a call from you a saying rooming with a friend will be a good decision. you even tried tie up the lose ends you knew we'd be worried about. but this time, we got no calls. not even a text message from you," there was a pause, and sehun blinks, unable to shake off the nervousness sitting heavy in his gut. he's never been scolded before, but he was a hundred percent positive being scolded involved more screaming and at least an angry looking dad. his old man was smiling.

"then we see your face on the screen for a teaser smiling, laughing, finally doing something we knew you've always dreamed of," his father moves to wrap an arm around his mum and it was the only time he realizes she was sniffling. crying. his breath hitches in his throat. "we've said this before, sehun. you've come a long way. you've grown a lot, and we're a little sad to realize you kind of knew you needed to get away from under our wing to be able to do so, but we're proud of you for being brave enough to do it." it was sehun's turn to move to wipe his own tears away. "who would have thought that you had been a very spoiled brat once?"

sehun chuckles. "i miss you," the words slips out before he could stop them. his tears are rolling down his cheeks.

"aw baby, if you weren't all the way across the globe, I'd be hugging you right now," his mother's eyes are bright when she spoke. "but we really are happy to see you finally reaching your dreams. remember that you'll always have our support. every single one of you. now, tell us all about your members," and with a shor sniffle, sehun launches into his monologue before his parents can even interrupt again. he tells him about his hyungs, how he's lucky enough to be with jihoon (tell that kid we miss him!), that he's rooming with one of the cuddliest members. he tells them of his gym escapades (is that why you look like you've lost some weight?) with hyun, tells them about the mother of the group who makes delicious food, and how everyone takes good care of everyone else.

"introduce us to your members properly when you guys have the time, yeah?" sehun nods, not trusting his voice not to crack if he spoke. he doesn't want to emd the call just yet. "take care always, okay? you've always been on the slimmer side, but... don't skip meals, okay? and please, keep us updated this time? like how we wanted you to in the first place?"

sehun nods again. "I'll remember."

"now, get some rest. we'll visit you as soon as we can."

"hey, guys?" he says just before his dad ends the call. he blushes for the briefest moment before he gives them both a smile, sniffling a little. god, he misses them both. "i love you both."

they both smile. "we love you, too, sehunnie."

the call ends. sehun wipes the rest of his tears but he was left with nothing but a smile on his lips.

#osh: solo #(this became longer than we had originally planned)#(but sehun and his parents are being v emo)#wc: 1327 #(unbeta'd so im sorry for any errors weeps)

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magic5ball · 3 years

Text

Nature Trail to Hell Arc IV: Megamart of Darkness (10)

Chapter 10: Bokrug vs. A-Bomb vs. Watt! Ultimate Deathmatch!!!

Despite having only golf clubs, A-Bomb was fearless. A reckless sort of fearlessness that leads one to charge a 25 pound, machine gun toting mass of unadulterated avian fury.

A fearlessness that would only make sense if your opponent was playing right into your hands.

“Bokrug! Look out!”

By the time the last word left my mouth, it was too late. A-Bomb teed off on Bokrug’s jaw, sending the gander flying. The machine gun clattered to the ground, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. All that was left was for A-Bomb to start teeing off on Bokrug’s downed carcass, which he gleefully did. Repeatedly. And it looked very painful, so painful it scared me out of mini golf for life. Even so much as touching a club gives me memories of the poor goose’s gasps of pain.

“Please, my child.” He begged “You may have fallen far, but the kind, innocent boy I once knew is still in there. I can feel it!”

“Really? Because my internet history says otherwise!”

If Bokrug wasn’t getting hit before, now he’d been reduced to the world’s downiest piñata. And yours truly could only watch helplessly as his physical form looked like it was gonna explode into a million bloody pieces any second, too glued to my seat (literally) to do anything. Or was I? Because A-Bomb had only glued the bottom of my seat. If I could only wriggle out of my pants…

Gotta give credit to Bokrug: he held out much longer than I thought he would. But even dinosaurs fall with enough beating, and before long A-Bomb was standing triumphantly over his kill like some African big game hunter. Right as I was able to slip out of my pants. Though when you consider I was wearing my pachyrhinosaurus underwear, the exact same smelly pair I’d been wearing since I’d left camp, this may have made my problem much, much worse.

A-Bomb laughed loud and deep at the sight, his face turning a deep red. This must have gone on for several minutes, him constantly on the verge of chortling his lungs out, myself too strawberry red to move. Then, once he’d spit out enough chuckles to speak again:

“A-are you kidding me?!“He pointed at me like some schoolyard bully. “Of all the dinosaurs you get monogramed on your underwear, you chose the NERD one?!”

I breathed deep. “Pachyrhinosauus is an amazing and criminally underrated member of the ceratopsian clade! In addition, it is woefully underrepresented in museu-”

A-Bomb thought that was a regular knee slapper.

“Kid, everyone knows the only reason they throw Pachyrhinosaurus in museums is so they can reach their diversity quotas! Yy-you are such a pathetic NERD!” Another fit of laughter later, he added “I-I can’t kill you like this!”

He snapped his fingers, summoning a legion of brown bagger clones armed with those dumb laser scanners to circle us.

“How about this? For making me laugh, I’ll let you escape! Heck, I’ll throw in a 30 second head start, free of charge!”

The Brown Baggers joined their master’s jeering, lest they be sent to the unemployment line (AKA Pete’s Slaughterhouse). Speaking of the Master, he pulled a bottle of Crystal Springs Water from his khakis and began chugging like he’d hadn’t drunk in a week, the power coursing through his veins.

I should have run, run like the pathetic wimp I was. But I didn’t. Because at the end of the day, you can steal sacred water from roleplaying geese. You can threaten to turn me into a corporate slave. You can bludgeon a close friend of mine within an inch of his life with and force me to watch. Heck, you can even force me to watch Carney the dinosaur sixty hours straight if you wanna! But nobody, and I mean NOBODY, makes fun of my pachyrhinosaurus underpants and lives to see the next sunrise!

Instead, I dashed for my pants, thirty seconds ticking away fast. Ten seconds in, I was pulling the packet of grow dinosaurs from my pocket. Another ten I got the stupid wrapping off.

Nine…

I remembered what Bokrug had said about the water, how it was enchanted and whatnot.

Eight…

Problem was, I had no idea where the real water was. The only one I knew was the real deal was being held by A-Bomb, and I sure wasn’t getting there.

Seven…

Unless… I looked at the sad water fountain, spurting alone between two shelves. Maybe the water of the sacred spring wasn’t in a bottle at all.

Six…

I concentrated. No going back now. No regrets…

Five…

A red pill rocketed through the air, a glorious, million dollar shot. A million glowing red darts marked themselves on me.

Four…

Three seconds. Four tense, terrible seconds of that pill riding the wind, right to the rim of the water fountain, teetering on the edge until, at last, the Luck of the Tostigs pulled through, and that baby went right down the drain.

Three, two…

Something pushed out from inside the water fountain, something BIG!

One…

Shrapnel exploded from where the water fountain had once been as a giant sponge triceratops burst out, alien style. The beast charged, plowing down brown baggers like they were blades of grass. As for A-Bomb, he didn’t even get a chance to set a stupid expression on his face before he was reduced to a red stain on the tile floor. And from where that water fountain once stood, the sacred spring gushed forth, coating the rest of the little sponge grow capsules, turning them to life-size dinosaurs. Not missing a beat, I hopped on the triceratops, and gave it a little bit of Tostig family advice:

“CHAAAARRRRGGGGGGEEEEEE!”

And boy howdy, did we! With a bellow that shook the foundations of the Wegmart, the triceratops launched fifty employees so high they left little brown bagger shaped holes in the ceiling! Heck, if I hadn’t used my toe claws to lodge myself in its’ skin, I might have been tossed into the next state!. Meanwhile, where the water of the Sacred Sprinng showered on Bokrug, he changed, wings becoming massive muscular arms, a wide sail growing on his back, his face becoming long and crocodilian, feathers became scales. A form I would recognize anywhere: Spinosaurus Aegyptus.

The brown baggers scattered. One dinosaur they could handle, but thirteen? Not a chance! Together, we watched the remaining five or so survivors flee into the stock room as we posed epically on a thousand foot mountain made of their corpses. Any that weren’t fast enough were picked up in Bokrug’s massive jaws and flipped up into the air, only to be swallowed whole like gingerbread pancakes! Our remaining troops, few as there were, flocked to join us.

We’d won.

The words felt weird on my lips, my brain still trying to grasp what just happened.

We’d won.

Yet I couldn’t deny it: somehow, we’d kicked out the most powerful company in Pennsylvania.

“WE’VE WON!”

Bokrug bellowed majestically into the air, his voice ancient and primeval The rest of the birds, dinosaurs, shopping carts, and whoever else was in our slapdash army joined in:

“WE WON! WE WON! WE WON!”

And they carried me out of the store on their wings like I was some kind of rock star.

. . .

That night, we partied. And by partied I mean set out the spoils of our war (snack chips and pretzels, mostly) while everyone stood awkwardly around the punch bowl, not knowing what to say (for guys who wore party hats all the time, LARP geese sure don’t know how to hold a conversation). Bokrug especially seemed interested in going to the little dino’s room and staying there a really long time. As for me, I stared into one of the barbeque fires we’d set around the place for lighting, plotting my next move. Hilda and whatever we’d put in Ms. Hoebag’s body were running the camp like a Siberian Gulag; in the middle of it all was my ticket back to reality, and by extension, my Gameboy Advance.

And, y’know, Mom was probably worried sick about me.

After half an hour of brisk walking, I found the bathroom door. I knocked twice.

“Bokrug, you in there?”

“My apologies,” bellowed the dinosaur, “but it seems as a final act of resistance, the minions of darkness burned all the toilet paper, so that we may never properly use their waste depository facilities.”

Sighing, I shoved some party napkins under the door.

“These do not seem to be the papers I seek. Are you certain these will work?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

One flush later, Bokrug barreled out, knocking the door off its’ hinges.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I replied, heading in myself.

Bokrug cocked his head to the side, the way birds do when they’re curious.

“And why would you leave paradise? With the waters of the Sacred Springs in our grasp, we shall soon surpass even the empire of Tako Shak in power!”

I shook my head, strategically positioning Mr. Weenie over the dung pit, letting loose. Bullseye. “Bok, I want to stay, but my Mom and Gameboy are at home, and I’m sure as heck my dirty rotten little brother isn’t going to give them company.”

The dinosaur could only stare in awed amazement as I epically exited the loo, piece of toilet paper attached to my shoe. “Long story short, I’m going to summer camp. Wanna join me?”

The dinosaur shook his crocodilian head. “While the idea of devouring communist elementary schoolers does pique my interest, my responsibilities are to my people. I cannot leave them leaderless at such an incredible time.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling a little bit damped down. “There’ll be all the communist turds you can eat.”

“Watterson, you have helped me when I needed it most, but you have your family, and I must care for mine. Surely, you understand?”

And for the first time I thought about how I had left Hilda at summer camp. I wondered how she was holding on now that Shatner and I had left.

But before I could head on my way, the old water lizard had one last surprise in store for me. “However, there is one gift I can give you.”

Holding out a scaly hand, I saw the grow capsules I’d filched off Wegmart, now turned into tiny sponge dinosaurs that galloped across he palm.

“My apologies, they shrunk in the sun.”

You’d think I’d be upset, but I wasn’t worried. Not at all.

. . .

And so we went on our quest: me and twelve grow-sponge saurian mercenaries from hell. We walked along a dirt road for about twelve hours before, as luck would have it, along trundled a Systo delivery truck, the same kind that delivered the crap food to camp. Hitchhiking wasn’t as hard as I thought (having dinosaur claws makes you surprisingly persuasive!), and soon me and the dinosaurs were crammed into a cardboard box in the semitrailer.

And so I sat in the dark, curled up inside a cardboard box meant for Styrofoam containers trying to formulate the master plan to get my body back. And by formulate a master plan I mean trying not to laugh at the Spongeboy jokes that would randomly pop into my head and focus, darn it!

Instead, I found myself drifting to sleep as the truck rolled across the winding backroads leading to fate, to destiny, to the thing that had started this all…

Summer Camp.

(Okay, so maybe I started it all by putting firecrackers in Dad’s cereal, but hey, I wasn’t the one who forced a young, innocent mind to watch Barney the ‘Dinosaur’. ‘Shudder’)

Part IV: MegaMart of Darkness: End

(Author’s Note: To everyone who’s read this far: thank you for hanging with me all this time! It really does mean a lot to me! Anyways, as it stands, I’m not quite happy with the final arc, so I’ll be taking a month’s hiatus to maybe fine-tune it a little bit. Until then, thank you so much for staying with this story, and see you soon!)

#My writing #Nature Trail To Hell #bokrug #supermarket #geese #summer camp

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esseastri · 6 years

Text

Megan Reads Oathbringer (part 8)

AAAAANND WE’RE BACK!

Hello, fronds, apologies for the brief hiatus, but I had to pause the reading/liveblogging because I was busy finishing my novel. YEP, I FINISHED WRITING MY BOOK, WHOOO! And then it was December, and there was Christmas, and traveling, and retail job at Christmas, and Star Wars, and what little time I had to myself I spent chilling because I was exhausted, but ANYWAY, I’M BACK, FRONDS, LET’S GET ON WITH THIS.

Part 8 encompasses pages 557-666 (previous parts)

whooooops where did I leave off, OKAY INTERLUDES

Why...why are we doing anything near Aimia? Listen: Axies the Collector is cool, but two-thousand-cremlings-in-a-trench-coat was waaayyy too far over the horror line for me. I do not want more of this.

So...there’s a third storm? But this one is stationary and around Aimia?

MORE REASON NOT TO GO THERE

Whoa, that sure is a side effect of Soulcasting... #yikes

Or is it not soulcasting? Is it something Radiant?

Oh fuck. Fine. This is fine. You know, the previous Stormlight books didn’t have this much body horror in them.

Ahh, shit, wasn’t there an Oathgate on Akinah? I don’t want a direct line to two-thousand-cremlings-in-a-trench-coat.

“the creatures that accompanied the spren” So...like......their Cognitive shadows? the versions of them still in the Cognitive Realm even as bits of them manifest visibly in the physical? Or...something else?

I’m sorry, did they just...die?

What the

What even is Aimia, really?

Mmmkay, actually, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know the secret of Aimia, I am not interested in being EATEN by two-thousand-cremlings-in-a-trench-coat.

Genuis!Taravangian is an asshole. I’m not surprised, I’m just. Stating a fact.

!!!! Are his secretary and the Dustbringer a thing? Are they together? Get it, girls!

I still don’t trust the Dustbringer.

Aslo “the most likely to accept their cause” Why? Is the “cause” like...destroying the world? I don’t remember if we know the Diagram’s endgoals.

...There’s a danger line for the “too smart” end of the sliding scale? Smart.

Also his name is Vargo? Vargo Taravangian? hehehehehe

IT’S NOT ABOUT DESERVE.

I think I hate him.

Dumb question: if Taravangian wants to take over Alethkar--presumably so he can take over the world--then aren’t he and Dalinar working toward the same goal? They both want a unified Roshar. So why kill Dalinar instead of working with him? The logical solution is to work with him, since he’s more charismatic and has a higher chance of actually succeeding, and then kill him off after he’s succeeded in laying the groundwork, and take over from there?

Not that I’m encouraging this, I’m just saying: Taravangian needs to sort out his priorities.

“kill those children” seriously, fuck this asshole, what a douchecanoe.

Also Renarin the wild card HECK YES.

The farming question can be easily answered: Progression.

Not all the Radiants’ powers were battle powers.

“the part of the world that mattered” OH FUCK YOU. That’s not how it works. It’s not about deserve. It’s about having the ability to help, which gives you the responsibility to help. If you can, then you should. No exceptions. No “matters”. Everyone matters. Everything matters. Everyone deserves to be saved.

Except maybe Kylo Ren, but that’s a different story.

Buddy. Odium already made a deal. He wants out of it now. Also he’s not a spren or a god, so why should your pathetic rules hold him?

Oh. Duh. Somehow I didn’t connect Listeners and gemhearts? But of course they do. How else would they bind spren? They infuse their hearts.

Oooohhhhh snap, they done got possessed.

Aw, Venli...things not going your way anymore?

Idk, I should feel bad for her, but I don’t? She brought this on herself. And on her friends. And on her sister, who is still dead. This is her fault.

“The listener gods were not completely sane.” I mean, idk what you expected.

Though, neither are our gods, so I guess we can’t talk.

Seriously, what did Alethkar do to them?

Oh. Wait. Where was Jezrien from? King of the Heralds, right? Prooobably his idea to make the OAthpact? His fault they were bound? That’s probably what Alethkar did to them...

Oooh, the new epigraphs are from the library at Urithiru! Heck ye, Radiant archives!

Though Taln and the Stonewards need to take a chill pill on the self-sacrificing front, apparently.

(Eks would be a Stoneward, pass it on)

Wait, no, hold on--the whole of part three with no Moash pov? But I’m WORRIED about MY BOY.

I’m unnecessarily suspicious of literally every guard that’s not Bridge Four. But particularly of this Rial guy. What is he, Bridge Thirteen? I don’t trust him. At all. He’s too...glib? with Dalinar to be a proper bridgeman. Around other bridgemen, fine, but with Dalinar? I don’t trust it.

I’m with Navani. “The greasy man is...unfitting.”

ooohh, Dalinar...... he “reminds him of friends from the old days.” Tho, bud, how many of those died, betrayed you, or left to become ardents?

Dalinar should know by now to just...not trust people implicitly. Always question.

I really, genuinely can’t imagine how awkward Kaladin and Shallan’s excursion to Theylan City was. Didn’t they fly? Shallan was probably all SCIENCE!! about it and Kaladin was definitely grumpy “let me fly in peace” boy. Nerds.

Sorry, hold on--you’re counting on Kaladin “Impulsive” Stormblessed and Adolin “Disaster Bi” Kholin to make sure Elhokar doesn’t do anything stupid? That’s like asking two kittens to babysit the new puppy.

“I can’t afford to lose you.” AAaaahhh

omg, no, don’t give Kaladin land. What will he do with it? Turn it into the Land of Misfit Bridgecrews?

Five times...so what’s it been, 50 days? Not even? That’s so little time!!

“Or is someone else receiving [the prayers] instead?” ...Isn’t that just the most chilling thought.

There has to be an explanation beyond “The Heralds are nuts” for Shalash to be erasing herself from visual records.

I’m sorry, rockbuds blossom? and have fragrance? Stop and smell the rockbuds?

“I am a diplomat.” Yeah, and I’m a rockbud.

How is Taravangian such a good actor? Or is he really this emotional on days when he’s not a raging asshole of a genius?

Aw yis, non-hereditary monarchy! I love!

“Does it involve punching someone?” It’s Dalinar, so, what do you think?

“Stone-sinew, Herald of Soldiers.” But...Taln’s focus is bone? Ishar is sinew?

I suppose “Stone-bone, Herald of Soldiers” would be a little too ridiculous-sounding...

brb, changing my url to “stone-bone-herald-of-soldiers”

“It was as if Odium had a grudge against this one in particular.” SAD ABOUT TALN FOREVER: THE MEGAN STORY

I s2g Dalinar is the most Extra son of a bitch in all of Roshar.

HOw do I prove I’m not trying to take over your country? I know! I’ll let you stab me through the chest! This is the BEST IDEA.

oooooooo Tension, maybe?

TENSION!! THIS SHIT IS SO COOL OMG

Also his special power--resonance? right?--is listening and that’s delightful. Or...I’m guessing that’s what it is.

Heck ye, Renarin!

“Strength and passion, the Vorin way.” In other words...Honor and Odium....hmm

So it’s Kaladin, Elhokar, Shallan, Adolin, Skar, Drehey, and...who? Some other bridgemen? It’s gonna be a fun roadtrip, tbh.

Buddy, Shallan ignoring her problems IS a problem! Don’t support this impulse! Don’t encourage this!

omg of COURSE Adolin hates flying. Nerd.

“No wisecracks about missing boots?” No, because that wasn’t funny.

“First assess the area for danger, get the lay of the land. Then gawk.” I LOVE MY SON SO MUCH, WHAT A TRAVEL NERD, BUT ALSO #SAME BRO

...we knew that Elhokar had a kid, but every time I’m reminded of it, I get really weirded out. He’s not old enough to be a dad.

PLease meet up with Moash. Please. I’m dying. My crops are failing. My skin is dry. Help me.

the advantage of living through Bridge Four is that you can sleep well anywhere? Well, I mean. I GUESS That’s an advantage. Sort of.

OH of COURSE it’s an Unmade. We do have eight more of those to encounter and deal with.

Whose is this though? Kaladin’s? Or are Elhokar or Adolin finally going to manifest?

(This is assuming that my theory about there being one Unmade for each order of Radiants to defeat is sound.)

Elhokar is trying so hard to be good.

Also Shallan is mean to Kaladin again, news at nine. *rolls eyes*

So, it’s going to be Kaladin’s Unmade then.

Elhokar, you know that the more you tell yourself you’re going to fail, the more likely you will? Stop it. Have confidence.

“Adolin made you want to laugh with him.” Yeah, he doesn’t punch down.

Also, the Kadolin is REAL, and I’m living.

Kaladin really is too good for this world.

I’m sorry, the fancy lighteyes’ gated villas have guards to keep the refugees off their perfectly manicured lawns? Fuck that. Fuck them.

“I needed someone I’d trust with my life, or more. So I brought us to my tailor.” THIS CHILD IS A DISASTER AND I LOVE HIM

Oh snap! we’ve made it halfway through the book!

“Even his voice was adorable.” HONESTLY, people who don’t ship Shadolin: how? It’s so pure and good and supportive and wonderful!

How did Aesudan know the parshmen were voidbringers? And why did she order them killed only to desert the city?

I suppose fabrials do trap and use spren, right? So it makes sense that the yellowgold...voidspren? would be offended by that sort of...I guess, spren enslavement? Sort of? But why are they so concentrated here? Which Unmade is it and what does it do other than corrupt other spren? and influence people.

How To Corrupt Spren and Influence People, a new bestseller by Odium, found in stores near you!

“I am the only one here who has confronted one of the Unmade directly.” Yeah, you, the Kholin bros, and most of Bridge Four who protected you while you did your thing. But sure.

Kaladin, when will you stop seeing your brands as part of yourself and let yourself heal?

Aw, I’m proud of her, admitted Veil is--oh. “They are both equally fake.” Hon, no... please. Talk to someone about this.

Aharietiam, or as I like to call it, “that other stupidly long and impossible-to-pronunce “A”-word.”

Sorry, but the fact that Shallan takes pleasure in pissing Kaladin off-- “he glared at you in the most satisfying of ways” --is really....gross. Uncomfortable. I’m not here for it.

Like, yeah, teasing is fine, but like... if it strays over from teasing into Actively Pushing Someone’s Buttons Just to Make Them Angry, then it’s BAD, okay? It’s really bad. I can say from experience: it’s very bad.

Well, I mean, that explains why no one’s come back from the palace.

“As a connoisseur of things that have killed me...” honestly. what are we up to now? Poison bread. Shipwreck and drowning. Run through with a sword. Dear god, child, you need to be more careful.

Kaladin making bad puns and smiling is giving me life though. Petition for more.

So, the Skybreakers and the Windrunners did not get along? Justice vs. Honor, I suppose...not unexpected. Especially is one is corrupted.

Isn’t Ishar...Bondsmiths? Herald of Luck? Are you sure?

“He is now as mad as the rest. More, perhaps.” Yeah, I got that vibe from Edgedancer.

Shit. Of course he set himself up as a god-king.

(He and the Lord-Ruler should make t-shirts.)

Dangit, Ishar founded the Oathpact, so bang goes that theory about Jezrien and Alethkar and the listeners.

“The Stormfather hated to be misquoted.” Pppfffft.

HECK YE, Bridge Four got a sword!!

Also omg Navani invented alarm clocks. Bless her.

She packed him lunch! BLESS THESE ADORABLE NERDS. God, they are ridiculous.

Dalinar hitching a ride to Azir with Jasnah and her just going, “Byyyeeeeee” and leaving him alone is HILARIOUS to me.

I wonder if the color of the gemstones in the epigraphs correspond to the radiant orders. Like, if the Windruners recorded in sapphire, and the Lightweavers recorded in garnet, etc.

Okay, I went back and checked, and that seems legit. I’m going to guess that’s been #confirmed by people who finished this book earlier than me, but listen.

“covered by a magnificent bronze dome” Lift voice: “boobies” Me: snrk

SPIRITUAL ADHESION!? WTF THIS IS SO COOL

OMG, he brought them an essay, that’s magnificent. Especially because they all had to write essays to apply to be king. Or.. Prime? WHATEVER THAT’S HILARIOUS AND I LOVE AZIR SO MUCH

hello, I love Jasnah, this is news to no one, but girl wrote an essay in rhythmic meter and *melts*

...the Azish parshmen negotiating for pay is...very Azish of them. And the Alethi parshmen gathering for war is very Alethi. And the Theylan parshmen sailing off into the sunset is very Theylan of them.

HA, Dalinar just said the same thing in the next paragraph, go me.

LIFT ATE HIS LUNCH, I LOVE HER, HELLO BBY I’VE MISSED YOU

“The crazy spren who lives in the forest.” 1. I love Lift a lot. 2. uuhhh...we know the Heralds are crazy, and I assumed Odium was crazy, but Cultivation, too?? Is ANYONE here sane anymore?

oh wow they agreed.

didn’t...see that coming. Not with so much book left.

OOOHHH SNAP HE REMEMBERS. HERE WE GO HERE WE GO AAHHHH

Every time I’m reminded that Adolin is only, like, 24yo, I have to tell myself that I was about that old when WoR came out and he’s not actually a child.

Anyway, 12yo Adolin is a gift. “Neat!” this kiddo aahhh

“It was gratifying to see how much one could accomplish in both politics and trade by liberally murdering the other fellow’s soldiers.” PUNK!DALINAR NEEDS TO LOOK AT HIS LIFE AND HIS CHOICES AND RECONSIDER HIS WORD CHOICE AT THE VERY LEAST

hugs are un-Alethi. this is why they have so many issues. they are emotionally constipated from lack of hugs.

“The other son” fuck you, punk!Dalinar

also “she’d never be a great scribe” yeah, that’s ‘cause she’s left-handed, you Vorin jerks

haaaa, he has a point. That even if he and Gavilar know that he wouldn’t ever betray Gavilar for the throne, Gavilar’s advisors aren’t stupid and will find reasons for Dalinar to be...elsewhere.

“Storms, I don’t deserve her, do I?” NO YOU FREAKING DON’T

tbh, I’m not even sure present-day Dalinar deserves her. Like, he’s better now, but he’s still... a soldier. He’s still a strategist. And Evi deserves a soft, gentle person who loves her.

Evi deserves the world, tbh, and I’m Upset because she’s going to die and I’m going to be Sad.

#op #Megan reads OB #Oathbringer spoilers #Stormlight Archive #Oathbringer #Brandon Sanderson #I'm back y'all #hopefully I will finish this book by New Year's...we'll see if I manage it but that's the goal #thanks for your patience everyone!

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paralleledfate · 7 years

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Bumbling Bumble

School was officially over for today, all that was left to do was grade and plan for tomorrow’s classes, lectures, and grueling lessons.

Evening was setting in, filling the teacher’s room in a soft and calming orange hue, peaceful and quiet, save for the soft clicks and taps of a keyboard.

Tara was typing away her reports as the diligent teacher she was, working on another lesson of ‘Mindfulness in Wellness,’ the title was thought by Recovery Girl herself, the topic was on quirk mental health.

She hummed to herself. So far, she was almost done, contempt that her own ability to distract herself wasn’t hindering her work today, and with this pace she should be done in time to brainstorm ideas for another lesson.

When suddenly she heard...

... bzzzz

“Hm?” Tara’s fingers stopped their work, looking around. Odd, she could have sworn she heard something, was it the monitors?

....

She shrugged and went back to typing.

bzzzz... zzzz...

“What is that?” Tara stopped again, pushing herself slightly from her desk. She raised her head to gaze at the ceiling, the sound wasn’t coming from the lights they weren’t that old.

Just when she was about to get up to investigate the door leading out clicked open, and a familiar, booming voice filled the room.

“STELLA ~ ! How are ya?!”

“Hey, Mic.” Tara sighed, not that she wasn’t happy to see him, but whatever it was she heard was most likely scared off thanks to him. “How are those reports comin’ along?” Present Mic asked sitting at his own desk, just a chair down from hers.

“Fine, I’m almost-”

bzzzz..

“... Do you hear something?” Tara asked, the obscure sound come back again. “Hm, hear what?” Present Mic tilted his head. Both were silent, straining their ears for whatever it was Tara has been hearing.

...

“... Nothing.”

“Ahh, hearing things are we?” Mic poked fun at her teasingly. “Probably...” Tara shrugged, getting rather annoyed and it may be possible she is hearing things, not that that wouldn’t be the first time. The Voice Hero chuckled and went on to do his own work.

The room was silent and quiet again, the two teachers enjoying each other’s quiet company, working in steady pace.

.... bzzzzzz

“Ahh! There it is again!” Tara slammed on her desk, quite loudly startling the other teacher, she stood up from her seat and her chair rolled back. “It’s closer this time.”

“H-hear what?”

“This, buzzing sound!” Tara retorted. “It’s driving me nuts!”

“... buzzing?”

“Yeah! I thought it was the monitors, or the ceiling lights’ Tara turned her head to the side, up, down, then turned her head to gaze over her shoulder. 'but I can still hear it, it’s almost like it’s a b-”

Tara turned her head back just in time to see her coworker and a small, yellow and black blur sip right past her and Mic’s line of sight.

....

“Oh, it’s a be-”

“BEEEEEEEE!!!!” Present Mic’s shrilling voice boom loudly upon seeing the insect, which was currently still buzzing around over head. Tara, who had her hands instinctively covering her ears, had fallen back in her seat in surprised.

“Yeah, no shit, Mic! You didn’t need to scream it!”

“G-GET IT!! GET IT OUT RIGHT NOW!!” Mic shouted again, cowering under a nearby desk on all fours. “I HATE BUGS!” Yeah, no kidding.

“Would you calm down, it’s not gonna do anything!”

“IT’S GONNA STING ME!!”

“No it won’t!”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW?!”

Tara spotted the bee again, resting on top of a computer screen. “It’s a bumble bee!” She pointed.

“SO?!”

“They don’t sting they’re harmless!!” The bee took off again, buzzing quite loudly around her and the other teacher.

“I DON’T CARE, IT’S A BUG AND I DON’T WANT IT NEAR ME!!” The voice hero argued, crawling under another desk getting as far away from Tara and the bee as possible. “Just get it out, please!!” He whimpered.

“Oh madone, fine!” Tara groaned, shaking her head. "A full grown man who can take on a horde of villains, has been completely over whelmed by a tiny bee." What would the students think if they saw their teacher like this?

The bee didn’t get very far, in fact it looked as though it was trying to leave. the bee was currently buzzing about near the windows. Tara made her way over and opened a one of the panes near it “Come on little guy...” She ushered the insect quietly.

The bee slowly made it’s way over, drifting further and further to the exit. However, before it could make it’s way out, it fluttered down on the sill coming to a complete stop.

“Hmm?” Tara tilted her head, eyeing the furry insect, they weren’t moving very much now. “Is it out?” Mic called out peeking from behind a desk.

“Not, quite.”

“What does that mean, is it out or not?”

“It’s just... resting on the sill...” Tara looked back at him. “It looks lethargic...” Mic sighed loudly and got him from his spot and carefully made his way over. Of course he didn’t go near the bug, he stood just behind Tara. She was much shorter than him, so he leaned down just a bit to peek around her. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Present Mic eyed the bug, and she was right. The insect did look like it was hurt, surprisingly not affected by his voice. He cringed slightly when it was trying to move it’s legs, and arms, their webbed wings hummed, but made not effort to lift itself.

Tara turned her head to look up at him. “Do bugs get sick?”

...

Oh...

I know what’s wrong.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Huh?” Tara’s question was ignored, not meanly as Mic made his way to the door. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back in five!” He grinned at her and waved before leaving the room, heavy booted steps fading away until the room was quiet again. Tara sighed and pulled up a chair from the desk and sat near the window, watching after the bee.

Five minutes later

“I’m back ~ !” Tara’s head rose from her palm, hearing the teacher’s heavy boots and voice. “What’s that?” Tara spotted something in the Hero’s hands, a spoon, a cup and a small pouch?

“Sugar!” Mic exclaimed cheerily in complete English.

“Sugar?” She blinked, glancing at the tired bee on the sill. “For the bee?”

“Bees love flowers, and flowers have sugar!” Present Mic placed the pouch and cup down on the sill. The cup he was holding held water inside. He dipped the spoon in, cupping a small pool of water, and carefully placed the spoon closer to the bee. He took the pouch and sprinkled grains of sugar into the spoon, the grains began to melt in the water. The bee, who had been watching Mic, saw what was going on and slowly crawled over, Mic quickly stood back sighing in relief. “They need sugar for strength and energy.”

“How the heck do you know that? I thought you didn’t like bugs.”

“Of course I don’t like bugs." Mic sighed, crossing his arms. “But, I also know that the very bugs I hate, especially bees are important to the planet.”

“... and where did you learn that?” Tara asked, pondering who in this school would have any extensive knowledge on insects. “Did you learn that from Kouda?”

“Hehe, nah, I knew before he enrolled. Thirteen told me! Without these little guys we wouldn’t have any food, or even a place to live.” The two of them looked on at the tiny bee who seemed to be happily sipping the sugar coated water. “Worms, ants, spiders, even the creepy crawlies...” He visibly shuddered in thought, but there was a triumphed expression to his features that kept him mostly relaxed. “They’re what keep our earth happy and healthy.”

“Huh, well color me surprised, Yamada.” She smiled at him. “And here I thought I was the only one here that could tolerate bugs.”

"Ohh ~ you're impressed?” Mic grinned at her. “Yep, you’re not a total complete wuss for bugs.” Tara chuckled under her breath, holding up her fingers her index and thumb pinching a small space. “Only a little bit though.”

Just then the two heroes heard the familiar buzzing, it was much more loud than before. The spoon was completely empty and the bee looked energized. “Ah, looks like it’s happy now!”

“Good, great! Now it can-” Present Mic was about to say, when he froze the bee flew right up to him, closer than he wanted.

“Aww ~ it wants to say thanks!” Tara teased, but at the same time cringed knowing full well he was about to let out another horrified, piercing scream.

Instead.

He leaned back as far as he could and blew out all the air his held. The bee was flown right out the window, immediately Mic rushed right over to the window pane and closed it, locking it shut.

“ALRIGHTY, BACK TO WORK!” Present Mic belted out in accomplishment, humming to himself as he made his back to his desk. Tara looked on in awe and annoyance before she sighed. Peering out the window she could that the bee made it outside, safely landing on a flower.

She smiled to herself and followed after Mic to finish up her work as well.

END

#;ooc;#headcanons #{ * ~ A Star is Born ~ * }#{ * ~ A Voice as Big as The Sea ~ * }#fanfiction #I am writing scenarios when I should be doing drafts...#does this count?#just something on the brain to write #I had fun ~#take it what you will ~#present mic #yamada hizashi #hizashi yamada #bnha oc

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