#either way I am posting two things today because I think I really owe you guys that

[offantasiesandreams]

I want a just absolutely off the walls reader. Just as insane as batter. I could fight a specter with my bare hands. Nothing bad could happen from eating this sugar. Yeah no going a while without food for the sake of the missions is fine- (AND THEN THEY FUCKING FAINT.)

Hehe, feral reader, nice! Being stupid and wild definitely has its perks, especially when you can have the people around you go "what-", it's so much fun!

Batter with a Feral Reader

You wanting to fight alongside Batter was definitely an honour he did not expect to receive throughout his lifetime. However, whereas he had a melee weapon he could use, as well as several skills allowing him somewhat ranged combat, you relied on your bare hands. And yet, for some reason, it worked. Standing back, as it was your turn to attack, he merely watched you suplex a spectre into the ground, the impact making it recoil and ultimately disappear. Satisfied, you triumphantly yelled: “Hell yeah, let’s go!!!”

While he may not have been one to make unnecessary noise, he did clap to compliment you on your skills. “My Player, your power is unparalleled, I must thank you for assisting me in my fights as much as you do. I am forever indebted to you.”

“No need to thank me, I’m just happy to wreck these ghosts.” As he eyed you more closely, it was apparent to him you were covered in bruises, just as much as he was. While a puppet may be repaired at any point in time, the puppeteer may not. 

“Perhaps you should make use of-”

“There’s another one over there! I’m gonna go kill it.” And with that, you stormed off on your own. Your trusty companion, still in awe at your determination to fight off the fiends, grew ever so slightly more concerned, however. Even so, soon enough, he joined you in your endeavour. You were the Player, you knew best, after all.

As you had expected, your travels would take quite a while, not a single rest being taken as your objective was of highest priority. Aside from the occasional Luck and or Fortune Ticket, there was no need to consume many other items. After all, there are no status effects that need curing if the enemies are not alive for long enough to inflict them.

Fatigue may have started to wear you down especially with hunger nagging at your body, but you did not let such show, moving forward with your destination in mind and nothing else. Only when your stomach growled did your body betray you. Still, this was a slight annoyance, nothing else. As long as you ignored the problem at hand it was bound to go away eventually. If Jesus could survive in the desert for 40 days then so could you.

Batter begged to differ in that matter, opting to watch at first as you tried to continuously push a door that needed to be pulled. “My Player, perhaps it would be wise to rest for a bit and eat some of the meat we have accumulated throughout our travels. It does appear your body is asking for such. If it gives you a sense of safety, I can be on the lookout for any phantoms audacious enough to approach.”

One final idea came to mind: You kicked the door, the force tearing it from its hinges and pushing it away after all. “Nonsense! I can rest once this all is over with. Plus it’s not like you’ve done any of that so far either.” Having stuck out your tongue at the door, you look at Batter, weariness starting to overcome you. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can rest and prance around in meadows and whatnot.”

Well, as much as he wished to argue with that logic, you were right. Evidently, this was too good to be true, but he could not find a flaw either.

A rather curious instance occurred in a room filled with white powder, its smell sweet enough to attract residents and travellers alike. A delirious drunkard would find he had entered the basement of Midas, a notion you agreed with. With your perception altered by a mind failing to control the body, you approached one of the pale piles. “You think this stuff tastes good?”

“I would believe so, yes. The workers do seem to have a seemingly insatiable craving for the sugar. Given its effects, it might be a form of addiction.” Scanning the sucrose in question, a feeling of dread washed over Batter. You weren’t going to…?

But alas. By the time he had looked at you, you had already shoved a handful, perhaps even more, of the substance in your mouth, some remains clinging onto the corners of your mouth. When you had taken notice of his stare, you grabbed another handful, extending your hand to him. “You want some?”

Hmm. What was one to answer to that and how. “I am grateful for your consideration, but I am afraid I must decline. The effects this has had on the Elsen is quite impactful, I am uncertain whether or not ingesting the sugar is a good idea.”

Slowly, you lowered your hand, moving it towards your mouth instead. “Your loss. What’s the worst that could happen from me eating it, though.”

Before you could shovel some more into your body, you suddenly felt light, the world spinning around you at an incomprehensible speed. Mesmerising as it was to watch, you were unable to do so as it all turned to black soon enough.

You fell into the pile of sugar as Batter looked at you for a moment, the realisation needing a second to hit. Once it did, he immediately exclaimed: “My Player!”

#off (game) #batter x player #batter x reader #i am so tired right now #might write one more thing now though #either way I am posting two things today because I think I really owe you guys that #more to come tomorrow #as well as a masterlist for this blog and a revision of the introduction post #I'm gonna do that once everything has been posted though

[andreafmn]

Speak | Chapter 13

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf.

A/N: I know I didn't post anything last week, but I wasn't feeling the best or very inspired. But I am posting this long awaited chapter early 😬😬 and y'all should know, we are getting closer to the long awaited truth reveal 🫣🫣 TAGLIST CLOSED check notes below as to why

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Paul didn’t know what his plan was. Storming into the Black house and wolfing out would not have been the most ideal situation, but he needed to do something. Jacob had done an unforgivable thing, and Paul would make sure he knew he had.

But anger was running through him too fast to be contained. As much control as he had mustered with (Y/N), Paul could feel it running out. And he knew the worse thing he could do was reveal the long-kept secret of the reservation to Jacob before his time. As much as he wanted the wolf inside him to rip the other boy to shreds, he knew better now than to let that kind of anger control him.

Still, he found himself putting his car in park on the long dirt road that led to the red cabin, his body shaking as he tried to keep the wolf at bay. He knocked on the front door harder than he had anticipated. The sound reverberated deep inside his ears, echoing the quick beat of his heart. If Jacob was the one to open the door, it was more than likely that his fist would collide with the boy’s jaw.

“Mr. Lahote,” Billy smiled, opening the door wide. “What a surprise to see you here. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Is Jacob around?”

“He is not,” the man responded. “He is most likely with his friend Quil still. But if there is anything I could help you with, please let me know.”

“I don’t think this is something you should know,” Paul struggled. “It’s… I don’t know. I don’t think you want to hear this.”

“Try me, Paul.”

The boy kept quiet for a second, mulling over whether telling Billy was the right thing to do. It was stupid and juvenile to speak of the problems between two people that –technically—had no business with him. It was not his place to air their quarrels out. “I think you need to talk to your son, Billy,” he sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on in his head, but he can’t keep doing what he’s doing.”

“What has he done, Paul?” Billy asked sternly, his fist gripping at the sides of his chair. “Something tells me this has to do with (Y/N) Swan. And I know my boy has not been the kind of person I raised him to be. So, please, do not sugarcoat things for my sake.”

“I really wish I could say that it is not my place to speak about this, but I can’t just stand by and let him hurt her.” Paul took a steadying breath, the coldness in the air stinging his lungs as it filled them. “Jacob went by to see her today, to get her to find a way to get Embry back into his group. But we both know why he has felt the need to take a break when it comes to their friendship. Now, I don’t know how he came to the conclusion that (Y/N) would be able to do anything, but he basically told her that if Embry didn’t come back, that he would break up with her. For good. And maybe it was an accident like she says, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. But he either pushed her, or he let her go, and she got hurt, Billy. The skin on the palms of her hands is completely broken, and she has a massive bruise that covers her entire hip. So, I am hoping that it was an accident and he didn’t see her. Because if I find out that he drove away after she got hurt and left her there, I might just take matters into my own hands.”

Something like a mix of anger and disappointment flashed across Billy’s face. A gaze that chilled even Paul. “I can’t believe this,” Billy scoffed. “That boy has truly lost his mind. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Paul. Believe me when I tell you that the wrath of the gods will rain down on him. But I do want to ask you one thing, and I hope you answer truthfully.”

“Uh, sure. Anything.”

“Did you imprint on the girl?”

Paul felt his throat tighten at the mention of the bond. He had managed to get the pack to stop pestering him over telling her, and in two weeks, they had yet to mention the supernatural link that tied him to (Y/N). But, for some reason, he didn’t think that he was that easy to read.

He could have lied to the man. Tell him that (Y/N) was nothing more than a friend. That he didn’t want anything more than to make sure she was safe.  “I did,” he confessed. “But I haven’t told her about it.”

“I gathered as much,” he chuckled. “Would you care to indulge this old man for a quick chat?”

“I should be heading back,” Paul said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Patrol and everything.”

“Sam will excuse you for being late just this once,” the man smiled. “Please?”

“Uh, sure. I guess I can spare a few minutes. I'm already late as it is.”

He followed Billy inside, his steps tentative behind him. The elder pointed at his couch, inviting the boy to sit and listen. Something he was not good at. Listening to things he didn’t want to hear.

“First thing’s first, why haven’t you told (Y/N) about the bond? I figure it would make it a lot easier on everyone if she did.”

“I just…” Paul stammered, running his hands up and down his thighs to calm himself down. I don’t want her to be in the middle of this screwed-up world. I couldn’t live with myself if she ever got hurt because of our secrets. Much less because of me.”

“Doesn’t it hurt her more to keep her shielded from things that involve her?” Billy retorted. “(Y/N) is a special girl, and she has been stuck in the shadow of her sister for as long as I can remember. Unfortunately an afterthought to the Swans. I thought that my son would be the one to help her see her worth. That he would care for her in a way I don’t think she believes she deserves.” He took a second to sigh deeply, calming the anger that was bubbling inside him. “I will admit that I had hope that those two would work out because –between you and me—I’ve always had a soft spot for the girl. Having her be a part of my family in a more permanent way would have been great. But I can see that I was wrong about that. Now I understand that the affinity I thought she held for this land was because of you.”

“Getting closer to her will only hurt her in the end,” Paul said, his gaze dropping to the hands on his lap. “She needs someone that can be good for her. Good to her. I don’t think I am that person.”

“And yet the universe believes you are,” he offered. “I can’t say I felt the effects of the imprint bond. I didn’t even shift. But I’ve known love. And when things are meant to be, the universe finds a way to make it rightfully so. (Y/N) deserves to know there is someone out there that is on her side. Someone that will care for her unconditionally. Someone that only wants the best for her, even if it hurts them. She has a right to know about the things happening around her. Because at the end of the day, she is already in this world. Her sister ran with the Cullens and is friends with my son, who –given his behavior—might be getting closer to his shift; she is your imprint; she is still my Jacob’s girlfriend. This world is already happening to her. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“What if that just pushes her away?” Paul worried. “It has been hard enough to build a friendship with her. I can’t lose that. I won’t lose her.”

“And what if it doesn’t? What if it brings her closer? She deserves the truth, Paul. And you know it can only come from you. I wouldn’t like to see what would happen if she was made aware by anyone else.”

“I… I’ll think about it,” he said, trying to convince himself that he would. Because everything Billy had said was true. She deserved everything and more, and maybe he could be the one to give it to her. At least a fraction. “But I do have to go now. Sam will probably have my head if I am another minute late.”

“I’ll give that boy a call,” Billy chuckled. “But I do hope you decide to tell (Y/N) the truth. It might open roads neither of you thought to walk down.”

Paul felt his head buzz with the words Billy spoke. As they joined the endless talks given to him by Jared and Sam, he knew avoiding the topic could only hurt them both in the long run. But the demons that breathed down his neck were too close for his liking. They held him in their grasp, their claws sinking into his skin every day that passed. He wasn’t sure if he could keep them at bay or even fight them out before they could make their way to (Y/N).

When he got to the Young cabin, he felt exhausted. Definitely not in the best shape to run around the woods in search of nothing. All he wanted to do was lay down and be done for the day. Or better yet, to run back to Forks and hold (Y/N) once again. For the first time since he had shifted, he wanted to avoid his responsibilities and put someone else first.

“Paul,” Sam’s voice broke through the silence of the night, surprisingly startling him. “I just received a call from Billy Black. Seems like you two had a talk.” 

The alpha joined Paul on the bench he sat on, not a single drop of anger in his demeanor. “I’m sorry for being so late tonight,” he sighed. “I’ll go on watch now.” 

“No need for that. Embry took your shift,” he said. “You should thank him for his beginner’s can-do attitude.” 

“I will,” he sighed. “Thanks.” 

“So, what happened?”

“(Y/N) got hurt, and she called me,” he shrugged. “We actually… well, we were together when you called. And then my anger took me to the Black residence.”

“I already knew all of that, Paul,” Sam reminded him. “I’m asking about all the things that happened that I don’t know about.”

“I don’t…”

“So, you’re all talked out for tonight? Or do you think you’ve heard enough?” 

Paul’s gaze fell onto the night sky, staring at the twinkling stars above. “I don’t think there is anything else to say about the matter,” he sighed. “It’s just me and my messed-up head to work through.”

“Well, I know a thing or two about messed-up heads,” Sam chuckled softly. “And there’s always something more to talk about, Pauly-boy. But only if you’re ready to confront those things that you fear so much.”

“I… I don’t think I am, Sam. Not right now.”

“Well then, can I ask the same question I have been for almost two months?”

“I haven’t decided yet on telling (Y/N) the truth. I just need a bit more time to think. To make the best decision for her. At the end of the day, all I want is the best for her. Even if it doesn't include me, Sam.”

Jacob walked into the house late that night, as carefree and nonchalant as ever. He was ready to shower off the day and lay down to rest, hoping that when he woke up the next morning, everything that had gone wrong would resolve itself. But he wasn’t expecting to find his enraged father waiting for him in the living room.

“Dad?”

“Sit down, Jacob,” he said sternly, his tone sharp and pointed. “Now.”

“What’s going on, dad? Why are you so mad?”

“I think you can guess, son. But I won’t make it too hard on you. This is in regard to (Y/N). The girl you claim is your girlfriend.”

“What about her, dad?”

“Acting dumb is not a good look on you, Jacob,” Billy said through gritted teeth, his cheeks growing red in anger. “But since that is how you want to play this. I’ll let you know that it had come to my attention that you have physically hurt her.”

“Look, I don't know what you think you know, but I didn’t do anything to her, dad. All I did was talk.” 

“Let’s say it was an accident, then. That she did slip on the ice, and you didn’t notice that she was hurt –which is a very unlikely scenario, boy. But you dangled your relationship in front of her like it meant nothing. You wavered it like a bargaining chip over something she had no control over. I don’t know who this is sat before me, but I can say this is not the son I raised.”

“And you’re gonna believe her over me, dad? I didn’t do anything like that,” Jacob whined. “All I did was go over to my girlfriend’s house to rant about my best friend avoiding me. Anything else is a complete fabrication. I…” 

“Enough!” Billy exclaimed. The man rubbed at his temples, his anger settling into his head, creating a pounding headache. “(Y/N) didn’t tell me anything. But I know a lie when I hear it, son. And I know that you have been dragging that poor girl along in hopes that something might happen with Bella. I turned a blind eye because I hoped you would fall for her in the same way she had fallen for you. But you have done nothing but break her down. That girl loves you, boy. And you don’t deserve that.”

“How can you say that? I’m your son.”

“My son would have never treated her that way. My son would have stayed to make sure she was okay when she fell. My son would not have used that poor girl’s feelings against her,” he reprimanded. “I told you to let her go if this was what you were planning. You have hurt (Y/N) enough, and I will need you to man up and tell the truth.”

Jake was at a loss for words. He was sure he had never seen his father with so much anger running through his eyes. But he couldn’t admit the mess he had made of everything. How things had gotten out of hand and had blown up in a way that he never expected them to. He couldn’t admit that everything he had done was wrong.

“I didn’t hurt anyone, dad,” he said instead of the truth. “Why don’t you believe me?” 

“I think it’s best if you head to bed now, son. I’ve heard all that I needed to hear.”

“Dad?”

“I need some time to cool down, Jacob. So, whenever you feel the urge, to tell the truth, you know where to find me,” his father said. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Back in the Swan residence, (Y/N) was finding it hard to fall asleep. Her hip felt like it was on fire, and her hands pulsed in pain. But it was the warmth that had been rushing inside her since Paul had been there that kept her up. She decided to tire herself with the TV, but it was the images in her head that she had been paying attention to. Her fingers were on her lips, trying to imagine just what would have happened if that call hadn’t come in.

She was back in the bathroom. Paul’s hands were still warm on her skin, her heart hammering on her chest. He’s right there. Only centimeters away from her. She can almost feel his lips on hers. She could already feel the warmness of his breath. Only this time, she does kiss him, and it makes sense. Kissing him feels right.

“(Y/N)?” Her father’s voice startles her out of her dreaming. A live representation of how much time had already passed. “What’re you doing still up?” 

“I couldn’t seem to find sleep,” she shrugged. “Figured the TV would fry my eyes into slumber as it seems to do for you but no such luck.”

“Very funny, kid,” he chuckled. Until his laughter died when he saw his daughter’s bandaged hands. “(Y/N), what happened?”

“I lost my balance on the driveway after Jake left and crashed onto the pavement,” she said. “I tried to catch myself with my hands, but I forgot I have Swan blood running through my veins, and clumsiness is in our genes. I scratched them up good, so I covered them up.” 

“Why didn’t you call me, kid? Are you hurt anywhere else? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“God, dad, no,” she chuckled awkwardly. “I’m okay now. It’s all taken care of.”

“Are you sure? You know the hospital is open twenty-four hours.”

“I am sure, dad. I’m okay. Just a little banged up.”

Charlie slumped onto the armchair in defeat, exhaustion taking over his body. “Sometimes I feel like I am failing you girls,” he sighed. “I’m so over my head with this whole parenting thing, and you two are the ones paying the price.”

“No, dad…”

“You don’t have to guard my feelings, (Y/N). I know I’m not father of the year. I’m sure there are so many things I’ve missed since the time you’ve been here, just like there were so many things that I missed with Bella. And I can’t help but wonder if it would have been better if you had gone back home with your mom like it was originally planned.”

“As much as I love and miss mom, I don’t regret for a second coming here, dad. In the short time I’ve been here, Forks became home. It’s not perfect, much like no place could ever be, but it is home. And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

(Y/N) didn’t understand her feelings. She didn’t understand wanting Paul to kiss her. The complexity of liking to people at once hadn’t even crossed her mind because she didn’t think it was possible. Not in its entirety. And for the first time, she felt an ounce of relief at the prospect of Jacob leaving her. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to confront these confusing feelings and she could follow what felt right.

But it was only an ounce.

Next ->

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[magpies-gold]

I attempted to order a couple of shirts and tarot card packs from Welcome to Night Vale because yes, I’ve gotten back on that bullshit again - I’m back up to 2016 and listening to it on my walks to work, which functions about as well as a cup of coffee to wake me up, let me tell you.

In hindsight, I should have known that box would be cursed. It’s Night Vale.

If you enjoy long tumbles down several flights of stairs, read on.

It started innocently enough. I ordered and remembered during checkout that oh yeah. I’m going to Spokane at the end of the month. And I’m in Canada. There’s a good chance it’ll be a little slow to get here and the arrival time might be while I’m away. Okee doke. Work address it is. DHL eCommerce usually turns into Canada Post and Canada Post does a daily delivery to our front door, where my whole department is located. If it looks like it’ll happen during my vacation, I’ll just tell my co-workers to watch for it. Easy pease.

Time passes. My box clambers across the US to the border.

Hurdle Number One: You owe duty fees! announces my tracking app. Check your email to pay. :D This is in the morning on my way to work, less than a week out from my trip.

I do. No email. I check junk, I refresh, I squint at time stamps. I scour their page for links. I think “Don’t they usually either send a letter after delivery or just demand cash at the door?” But this has all the indications that I have to pay now or it’ll be sent back. Exception. Held for payment. I am stupid and obsess over this while walking to work, listening to Night Vale with half an ear and having to rewind Cecil because my brain is occupied. I nearly get run over by a bicycle and it’s coincidentally ridden by a co-worker. He comments that I look especially unhinged today. He’s right. I keep plugging away trying to solve the labyrinthine maze that is DHL’s customer service department.

My tracking number doesn’t work in any of the Help Me boxes. The chat bot doesn’t know what a duty fee is. It finally barfs out a phone number. That’ll work. I pray it’s not a robot on the other end and continue to work.

While waiting for the kettle to heat up on my break I take a quick spin outside with my phone to call customer service.

To my briefly pleasant surprise, the wait on hold is less than five minutes and it is, in fact, a pleasant human voice on the other end. The conversation is quick “Didn’t get the email.” “Junk mail?” “Nope, nothing.” “You can wait until it’s delivered by Canada Post and pay then.” “This really looks like it’s being held, though…” “It should still go through but otherwise I have an email for you.” “You can’t like… transfer me?” “No. Just email and they’ll resend the instructions.”

Labyrinthine!

An ambulance blares by. I wince. I also have no pen. Uh. Speaker phone, apologies for the traffic noises, and frantic tapping into my Notes app while cursing autocorrect. The email is cryptic and long but I get it written down. Thanks, g’bye.

For the record, once I sent the email, things went smoothly. It worked. They resent the email, I paid the whopping $12, and then my tracking updated to say it would continue on to me. Whew. Good. I await the Canada Post tracking number.

Hurdle Number Two: This is where the package started mutating, I’m sure. A Canada Post tracking number appears!

…. and then an Intelcom tracking number appears.

And then my DHL original tracking number duplicates itself saying it’s being sent back to the states? But the original one is still on its way to me… How did my box become at least three boxes?

I blink a few times and just… track them all to see what’s going to happen.

At this point I’ve got to leave for Spokane so I just ask my co-workers to keep an eye out and I leave it up to the fates.

Canada Post never budged. Nothing happened. The duplicate DHL package did move, and eventually returned all the way back to the sender. I don’t know what that was to this day. The Intelcom package identified itself as coming my way with a little email and a link to add delivery instructions and so I thought “You. You are the real one. Found you.” I know Intelcom delivers on weekends and I don’t want to inconvenience anyone and this has started to get to where I don’t want to leave any details up to chance, and so in every instruction box I can find, I note that it’s a business address, give the hours, and the times we’re open. Please deliver to reception. On weekdays. Please.

I once again give it up to the fates and enjoy my weekend.

Hurdle Number Four: Intelcom is Jared, age 19, who never learned how to read. On Sunday morning, the final day of Mysterium, on what is a long weekend in Canada because of Canada Day on the 1st, I get a happy little email.

Package delivered!

….

How.

I open the email. I scroll down. There’s a photo. Of my box.

On the lawn.

Outside an obvious office, smack dab in the middle of a three day weekend, beside a street that harbours half the city’s traffic.

A safe location, they say.

A safe location.

The same way that a toddler on the train tracks is in a safe location. Certainly!

And I am in another country.

I make a noise that startled all thee cats in our friend’s house.

My co-workers are heroes. I thankfully have my supervisor’s cell number and she actually checks her phone, unlike me. She knew about the box. I send her the photo and just “Those absolute MAD LADS. Heeeeeeelp!”

By sheer luck another co-worker was not out of town on that glorious warm weekend and was able to swing by and rescue my box.

I enjoy the last day of the convention with a slight eye twitch.

Finally … I get home. I go back to work. I retrieve my hard earned box. Finally! I don’t open it at work. I carry it home. Whatever. It’s in my hands now and I’m going to enjoy opening it. I go the long way to meet my boyfriend at his work and then we go back to our abode.

We talk about the box adventure. We laugh about it. We both decide that Friday would be a good day to wear our new shirts. It’s going to be great.

At home we plunk it down. Tim gets a knife. He opens it.

He blinks.

What?

Um, he says.

Oh no.

And I look over his shoulder…. and I don’t see shirts. Or cards. I see…

Sleep masks. Sleep masks in fancy plastic boxes all neatly tucked together. They’ve got a sea creature on ‘em.

My box has mutated into someone’s fuckin’ Manta Sleep order. My box has escaped. My box has fled and framed an innocent bystander for its crimes. We got the wrong man, boys!

And I swear I can just about hear Cecil narrating this whole thing if I listen really, really hard.

It’s a three part tragedy. One of the shirts I wanted is out of print now. I contacted support and they offered me my pick of any others in its place, which was nice. Thank you Lucid John, that is quite a name. I paid customs fees and probably will again on box two, but such is the way.

And I think I lost a part of my soul there. Maybe that’s what was in the mystery third tracking number.

Basically if anyone in the world finds where the fuck my Night Vale shit went, could you send it home? I’ll trade you some sleep masks.

They’ve got a sea creature on ‘em.

And be careful when ordering from Night Vale.

#welcome to night vale #topatoco #dhl #package woes #my mail went to hell #it’s in the mud #still in the mud

[nervouscloudtheorist]

April 8th 2024

Dear Diary,

I don't know how Tom Nook did it but he built my house around me...while I was sleeping.

Isabelle also stopped by and gave me some wallpaper for my house since Tom Nook didn't paint the walls or finish the floors while he was here. However the most unsettling part of all of this is that Isabelle knew the exact moment I was awake. She didn't stay long so I didn't have any time to ask her what she was doing or how she knew.

Regardless of how she knew I was awake, I still wanted to be a good mayor so rather than immediately going to Tom Nook to ask him “What the heck?!?” I stopped by town hall to see if Isabelle had anything for me to do.

She told me that I was somehow at a 51% approval rate and that if I wanted my rating to go higher I should pick weeds or fish for garbage to try to raise it.

I found this odd because this town barely has any weeds that I could see, at least from my fishing adventures last night, and I didn't see any signs of garbage so I think she is just giving me busy work at this point. I was also a little surprised that my rating was so high despite me doing nothing to raise it. I didn't even know the resident's names which was honestly really embarrassing for me being mayor.

I decided that I just could not be a good mayor that way so I made it a point today to run around town and talk to everyone. And guess what? I succeeded!!

Currently the people who live in Marjoram are me, Isabelle, the shop owners on Main street, Sly, T-bone, Claudia, Chrissy, and Keaton

( who they did NOT make mayor by the way)

Keaton was a bit much for me honestly. When we were talking he kept saying how he was going to be my best friend and I didn't have the heart to tell him that my best friend was Clay.

Which by the way, is not true. Clay doesn't even remember my name. He calls me Thump all the time. So that was pretty disappointing but I guess I've only been here 3 days. I will just have to try harder to be a better friend!

After talking to everyone, I made my way to Tom Nook's Homes to finally talk to Tom about how he just built a house around me while I was sleeping. By the way do you think I should call him Tom or Tom Nook, I don't think he minds either way but I don't know him well enough to call him Tom to his face. lol

Anyways, not only was he NOT apologetic about building a house around me while I slept but I also owe him 39,800 bells for a house the size of my tent. I can't even pay him directly. I have to go to the post office to pay him which is another headache I will get into later.

The only good part about having Tom build your house is that he doesn't charge interest or care when you pay him, as long as you pay him.

He also enrolled me in some “Happy Home” thing that rates how I decorate my house. The whole thing reminds me of the Home Owners Associations in my old town, which was sad.

So back to the post office thing. I guess I have to use the ATM in the post office to pay him but I can't use the savings I have in the bank to directly pay him, I have to first take it out of my bank, put it in my wallet and then re-deposit it to Tom Nook's payment system. It's a weird circle of events I'm not sure I will ever get used to.

I figured since Tom Nook was not helpful I would just wander town Main Street to see if the shops had anything new and to my surprise everything they had was new! When I talked to Tommy at the Nookling Junction he told me that the shops change their inventory everyday to keep things fresh, which is both good and bad news to my wallet. By the way, they are TOTALLY two different shopkeepers that just happen to look the same and they are not related to Tom Nook.

I didn't find anything I wanted in the stores so I walked back to town to talk to Clay some more so that he will definitely realize I am just as cool as he is.

Despite not remembering my name, Clay had no problems asking me to deliver a present to Sly for him. Naturally being the amazing mayor I am, I agreed. I was so excited that Clay asked me to do something for him, I started running towards where I thought Sly would be. In my excitement though, I ended up ruining the wrapping paper for the present before I even found Sly.

I didn't want to disappoint Clay so I got really worried until I remembered that Nookling Junction sold wrapping paper so I bought some and wrapped the present up like nothing happened.

Sly must get a lot of presents from Clay though because he refused to accept that the gift was from Clay. I had to unwrap my hard work and give Sly the gift without the paper before he believed me that the present was from Clay.

Sly was completely unforgiving about the whole situation and told me that he would make me do 10,000 push-ups with Chrissy on my back if I did it again.

I don't like Sly.

I went back and told Clay what happened and thankfully he was much more forgiving than Sly. He even went on to tell me that I could find something called Gyroids on the islands.

If Clay thinks they're cool they must be, so I hope I find one soon!

Ultimately wandering around town today taught me many things. Like did you know that there are presents with balloons just flying around town all day? I don't know how to get them down yet but I am sure that I will figure it out soon!

Also there are pitfall seeds everywhere around town. I suspect that Sly is to blame.

I also learned that Blathers refuses to take any duplicate fossils, which is strange because I thought as a curator he would love to have backups.

They sell for okay money though which is nice because between fossils, bugs, and fish I got my home loan down to 2,000 bells in one day!

I also learned that MEOW coupons just kind of appear in my wallet and when you barter with the people in the RV park they mail you the items instead of just handing them over to you.

Well, I cant say that EVERYONE does that but Pascal the Otter does for sure. I guess I will have to see if anyone visits tomorrow and see if they do the same since Harvey didn't explain the whole barter process.

Anyways, its back to fishing, bug hunting, and weeding for me.

Talk later

-Finn

P.S. Wisp lied. No robot frogs moved in. But I did look around and see that someone named Ribbot is moving into town so I guess I have that going for me.

#animal crossing #journals #nintendo #video games #writing #creative writing #fanfic #fanfiction

[bao3bei4]

fan language: the victorian imaginary and cnovel fandom

there’s this pinterest image i’ve seen circulating a lot in the past year i’ve been on fandom social media. it’s a drawn infographic of a, i guess, asian-looking woman holding a fan in different places relative to her face to show what the graphic helpfully calls “the language of the fan.”

people like sharing it. they like thinking about what nefarious ancient chinese hanky code shenanigans their favorite fan-toting character might get up to⁠—accidentally or on purpose. and what’s the problem with that?

the problem is that fan language isn’t chinese. it’s victorian. and even then, it’s not really quite victorian at all. 

--------------------

fans served a primarily utilitarian purpose throughout chinese history. of course, most of the surviving fans we see⁠—and the types of fans we tend to care about⁠—are closer to art pieces. but realistically speaking, the majority of fans were made of cheaper material for more mundane purposes. in china, just like all around the world, people fanned themselves. it got hot!

so here’s a big tipoff. it would be very difficult to use a fan if you had an elaborate language centered around fanning yourself.

you might argue that fine, everyday working people didn’t have a fan language. but wealthy people might have had one. the problem we encounter here is that fans weren’t really gendered. (caveat here that certain types of fans were more popular with women. however, those tended to be the round silk fans, ones that bear no resemblance to the folding fans in the graphic). no disrespect to the gnc old man fuckers in the crowd, but this language isn’t quite masc enough for a tool that someone’s dad might regularly use.

folding fans, we know, reached europe in the 17th century and gained immense popularity in the 18th. it was there that fans began to take on a gendered quality. ariel beaujot describes in their 2012 victorian fashion accessories how middle class women, in the midst of a top shortage, found themselves clutching fans in hopes of securing a husband.

she quotes an article from the illustrated london news, suggesting “women ‘not only’ used fans to ‘move the air and cool themselves but also to express their sentiments.’” general wisdom was that the movement of the fan was sufficiently expressive that it augmented a woman’s displays of emotion. and of course, the more english audiences became aware that it might do so, the more they might use their fans purposefully in that way.

notice, however, that this is no more codified than body language in general is. it turns out that “the language of the fan” was actually created by fan manufacturers at the turn of the 20th century⁠—hundreds of years after their arrival⁠ in europe—to sell more fans. i’m not even kidding right now. the story goes that it was louis duvelleroy of the maison duvelleroy who decided to include pamphlets on the language with each fan sold.

interestingly enough, beaujot suggests that it didn’t really matter what each particular fan sign meant. gentlemen could tell when they were being flirted with. as it happens, meaningful eye contact and a light flutter near the face may be a lingua franca.

so it seems then, the language of the fan is merely part of this victorian imaginary we collectively have today, which in turn itself was itself captivated by china.

--------------------

victorian references come up perhaps unexpectedly often in cnovel fandom, most often with regards to modesty.

it’s a bit of an awkward reference considering that chinese traditional fashion⁠—and the ambiguous time periods in which these novels are set⁠—far predate victorian england. it is even more awkward considering that victoria and her covered ankles did um. imperialize china.

but nonetheless, it is common. and to make a point about how ubiquitous it is, here is a link to the twitter search for “sqq victorian.” sqq is the fandom abbreviation for shen qingqiu, the main character of the scum villain’s self-saving system, by the way.

this is an awful lot of results for a search involving a chinese man who spends the entire novel in either real modern-day china or fantasy ancient china. that’s all i’m going to say on the matter, without referencing any specific tweet.

i think people are aware of the anachronism. and i think they don’t mind. even the most cursory research reveals that fan language is european and a revisionist fantasy. wikipedia can tell us this⁠—i checked!

but it doesn’t matter to me whether people are trying to make an internally consistent canon compliant claim, or whether they’re just free associating between fan facts they know. it is, instead, more interesting to me that people consistently refer to this particular bit of history. and that’s what i want to talk about today⁠—the relationship of fandom today to this two hundred odd year span of time in england (roughly stuart to victorian times) and england in that time period to its contemporaneous china.

things will slip a little here. victorian has expanded in timeframe, if only because random guys posting online do not care overly much for respect for the intricacies of british history. china has expanded in geographic location, if only because the english of the time themselves conflated china with all of asia.

in addition, note that i am critiquing a certain perspective on the topic. this is why i write about fan as white here⁠—not because all fans are white⁠—but because the tendencies i’m examining have a clear historical antecedent in whiteness that shapes how white fans encounter these novels.

i’m sure some fans of color participate in these practices. however i don’t really care about that. they are not its main perpetrators nor its main beneficiaries. so personally i am minding my own business on that front.

it’s instead important to me to illuminate the linkage between white as subject and chinese as object in history and in the present that i do argue that fannish products today are built upon.

--------------------

it’s not radical, or even new at all, for white audiences to consume⁠—or create their own versions of⁠—chinese art en masse. in many ways the white creators who appear to owe their whole style and aesthetic to their asian peers in turn are just the new chinoiserie.

this is not to say that white people can’t create asian-inspired art. but rather, i am asking you to sit with the discomfort that you may not like the artistic company you keep in the broader view of history, and to consider together what is to be done about that.

now, when i say the new chinoiserie, i first want to establish what the original one is. chinoiserie was a european artistic movement that appeared coincident with the rise in popularity of folding fans that i described above. this is not by coincidence; the european demand for asian imports and the eventual production of lookalikes is the movement itself. so: when we talk about fans, when we talk about china (porcelain), when we talk about tea in england⁠—we are talking about the legacy of chinoiserie.

there are a couple things i want to note here. while english people as a whole had a very tenuous knowledge of what china might be, their appetites for chinoiserie were roughly coincident with national relations with china. as the relationship between england and china moved from trade to out-and-out wars, chinoiserie declined in popularity until china had been safely subjugated once more by the end of the 19th century.

the second thing i want to note on the subject that contrary to what one might think at first, the appeal of chinoiserie was not that it was foreign. eugenia zuroski’s 2013 taste for china examines 18th century english literature and its descriptions of the according material culture with the lens that chinese imports might be formative to english identity, rather than antithetical to it.

beyond that bare thesis, i think it’s also worthwhile to extend her insight that material objects become animated by the literary viewpoints on them. this is true, both in a limited general sense as well as in the sense that english thinkers of the time self-consciously articulated this viewpoint. consider the quote from the illustrated london news above⁠—your fan, that object, says something about you. and not only that, but the objects you surround yourself with ought to.

it’s a bit circular, the idea that written material says that you should allow written material to shape your understanding of physical objects. but it’s both 1) what happened, and 2) integral, i think, to integrating a fannish perspective into the topic.

--------------------

japanning is the name for the popular imitative lacquering that english craftspeople developed in domestic response to the demand for lacquerware imports. in the eighteenth century, japanning became an artform especially suited for young women. manuals were published on the subject, urging young women to learn how to paint furniture and other surfaces, encouraging them to rework the designs provided in the text.

it was considered a beneficial activity for them; zuroski describes how it was “associated with commerce and connoisseurship, practical skill and aesthetic judgment.” a skillful japanner, rather than simply obscuring what lay underneath the lacquer, displayed their superior judgment in how they chose to arrange these new canonical figures and effects in a tasteful way to bring out the best qualities of them.

zuroski quotes the first english-language manual on the subject, written in 1688, which explains how japanning allows one to:

alter and correct, take out a piece from one, add a fragment to the next, and make an entire garment compleat in all its parts, though tis wrought out of never so many disagreeing patterns.

this language evokes a very different, very modern practice. it is this english reworking of an asian artform that i think the parallels are most obvious.

white people, through their artistic investment in chinese material objects and aesthetics, integrated them into their own subjectivity. these practices came to say something about the people who participated in them, in a way that had little to do with the country itself. their relationship changed from being a “consumer” of chinese objects to becoming the proprietor of these new aesthetic signifiers.

--------------------

i want to talk about this through a few pairs of tensions on the subject that i think characterize common attitudes then and now.

first, consider the relationship between the self and the other: the chinese object as something that is very familiar to you, speaking to something about your own self vs. the chinese object as something that is fundamentally different from you and unknowable to you. 

consider: [insert character name] is just like me. he would no doubt like the same things i like, consume the same cultural products. we are the same in some meaningful way vs. the fast standard fic disclaimer that “i tried my best when writing this fic, but i’m a english-speaking westerner, and i’m just writing this for fun so...... [excuses and alterations the person has chosen to make in this light],” going hand-in-hand with a preoccupation with authenticity or even overreliance on the unpaid labor of chinese friends and acquaintances. 

consider: hugh honour when he quotes a man from the 1640s claiming “chinoiserie of this even more hybrid kind had become so far removed from genuine Chinese tradition that it was exported from India to China as a novelty to the Chinese themselves” 

these tensions coexist, and look how they have been resolved.

second, consider what we vest in objects themselves: beaujot explains how the fan became a sexualized, coquettish object in the hands of a british woman, but was used to great effect in gilbert and sullivan’s 1885 mikado to demonstrate the docility of asian women. 

consider: these characters became expressions of your sexual desires and fetishes, even as their 5’10 actors themselves are emasculated.

what is liberating for one necessitates the subjugation and fetishization of the other. 

third, consider reactions to the practice: enjoyment of chinese objects as a sign of your cosmopolitan palate vs “so what’s the hype about those ancient chinese gays” pop culture explainers that addressed the unconvinced mainstream.

consider: zuroski describes how both english consumers purchased china in droves, and contemporary publications reported on them. how: 

It was in the pages of these papers that the growing popularity of Chinese things in the early eighteenth century acquired the reputation of a “craze”; they portrayed china fanatics as flawed, fragile, and unreliable characters, and frequently cast chinoiserie itself in the same light.

referenda on fannish behavior serve as referenda on the objects of their devotion, and vice versa. as the difference between identity and fetish collapses, they come to be treated as one and the same by not just participants but their observers. 

at what point does mxtx fic cease to be chinese? 

--------------------

finally, it seems readily apparent that attitudes towards chinese objects may in fact have something to do with attitudes about china as a country. i do not want to suggest that these literary concerns are primarily motivated and begot by forces entirely divorced from the real mechanics of power. 

here, i want to bring in edward said, and his 1993 culture and imperialism. there, he explains how power and legitimacy go hand in hand. one is direct, and one is purely cultural. he originally wrote this in response to the outsize impact that british novelists have had in the maintenance of empire and throughout decolonization. literature, he argues, gives rise to powerful narratives that constrain our ability to think outside of them.

there’s a little bit of an inversion at play here. these are chinese novels, actually. but they’re being transformed by white narratives and artists. and just as i think the form of the novel is important to said’s critique, i think there’s something to be said about the form that fic takes and how it legitimates itself.

bound up in fandom is the idea that you have a right to create and transform as you please. it is a nice idea, but it is one that is directed towards a certain kind of asymmetry. that is, one where the author has all the power. this is the narrative we hear a lot in the history of fandom⁠—litigious authors and plucky fans, fanspaces always under attack from corporate sanitization.

meanwhile, said builds upon raymond schwab’s narrative of cultural exchange between european writers and cultural products outside the imperial core. said explains that fundamental to these two great borrowings (from greek classics and, in the so-called “oriental renaissance” of the late 18th, early 19th centuries from “india, china, japan, persia, and islam”) is asymmetry. 

he had argued prior, in orientalism, that any “cultural exchange” between “partners conscious of inequality” always results in the suffering of the people. and here, he describes how “texts by dead people were read, appreciated, and appropriated” without the presence of any actual living people in that tradition. 

i will not understate that there is a certain economic dynamic complicating this particular fannish asymmetry. mxtx has profited materially from the success of her works, most fans will not. also secondly, mxtx is um. not dead. LMAO.

but first, the international dynamic of extraction that said described is still present. i do not want to get overly into white attitudes towards china in this post, because i am already thoroughly derailed, but i do believe that they structure how white cnovel fandom encounters this texts.

at any rate, any profit she receives is overwhelmingly due to her domestic popularity, not her international popularity. (i say this because many of her international fans have never given her a cent. in fact, most of them have no real way to.) and moreover, as we talk about the structure of english-language fandom, what does it mean to create chinese cultural products without chinese people? 

as white people take ownership over their versions of stories, do we lose something? what narratives about engagement with cnovels might exist outside of the form of classic fandom?

i think a lot of people get the relationship between ideas (the superstructure) and production (the base) confused. oftentimes they will lob in response to criticism, that look! this fic, this fandom, these people are so niche, and so underrepresented in mainstream culture, that their effects are marginal. i am not arguing that anyone’s cql fic causes imperialism. (unless you’re really annoying. then it’s anyone’s game) 

i’m instead arguing something a little bit different. i think, given similar inputs, you tend to get similar outputs. i think we live in the world that imperialism built, and we have clear historical predecessors in terms of white appetites for creating, consuming, and transforming chinese objects. 

we have already seen, in the case of the fan language meme that began this post, that sometimes we even prefer this white chinoiserie. after all, isn’t it beautiful, too? 

i want to bring discomfort to this topic. i want to reject the paradigm of white subject and chinese object; in fact, here in this essay, i have tried to reverse it.

if you are taken aback by the comparisons i make here, how can you make meaningful changes to your fannish practice to address it? 

--------------------

some concluding thoughts on the matter, because i don’t like being misunderstood! 

i am not claiming white fans cannot create fanworks of cnovels or be inspired by asian art or artists. this essay is meant to elaborate on the historical connection between victorian england and cnovel characters and fandom that others have already popularized.

i don’t think people who make victorian jokes are inherently bad or racist. i am encouraging people to think about why we might make them and/or share them

the connections here are meant to be more provocative than strictly literal. (e.g. i don’t literally think writing fanfic is a 1-1 descendant of japanning). these connections are instead meant to 1) make visible the baggage that fans of color often approach fandom with and 2) recontextualize and defamiliarize fannish practice for the purposes of honest critique

please don’t turn this post into being about other different kinds of discourse, or into something that only one “kind” of fan does. please take my words at face value and consider them in good faith. i would really appreciate that.

please feel free to ask me to clarify any statements or supply more in-depth sources :) 

#x #-__- another fandom essay sorry

[ragingbookdragon]

The Daughter Of Superman, The Adopted Son Of Batman...What Could Go Wrong? PT. 2

Jason Todd x Kryptonian!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.8K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: I should really post my other Kryptonian reader story. Enjoy the angst! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She jerked backwards, eyes widening at the sight of the thick, crimson liquid running down her arm. A shudder ran through her, throat seizing up as she tried to suck in air, her other hand coming up to rub at her arm. Suddenly it was on both hands and she stared at them in horror.

A voice called from below her, pained, but firm. “Superwoman…it’s okay. Don’t—ugh—don’t panic. It’s alright.” The voice was soothing at first, but when she looked down to find its owner, the body next to him took up all she saw, a vicious, gaping hole where his heart used to be.

She peddled backwards, stumbling to the floor, apologies falling from her lips. “I’m sor—I’m so sorry. It was just—he was hurting you and I—I didn’t mean to do this, I swear—”

The boy reached out to her but grunted in pain, hand dropping to hold his side. “(Y/N)—”

Her eyes met his once more, and he could see the tears swimming in her gaze as she whispered, “I’m sorry.” She shot from the ground, disappearing in the sky in a blur of red and blue.

He reached for her calling out, “(Y/N)!” He lost sight of her as quickly as she left, and the other two ran up to him.

“Tim!” The taller boy stopped, looking down at the corpse next to him, jaw dropping in shock. “…Oh my god. Wh—what happened?” He looked at the other. “Tim?”

He shook his head, eyes meeting the shorter one. “Bart, I need you to get to Central and find Wally and Dick and tell them to get to the cave.” Bart nodded and spun, taking off in a flash of yellow lightning.

The other boy knelt, picking him up off the ground. “Tim, what happened?”

He groaned, hand moving to hold his side once more. “(Y/N) killed him on accident.” Tim looked at him. “Conner, I can get back to the tower on my own, but I need someone to get to Jason.” He sucked in a breath, reaching up and wiping the blood from his nose though it still bled despite him. “Kori and Roy will probably be with him, but right now, we need everyone who can search.”

Conner nodded, steadying Tim on his feet before rising from the ground; he looked down at him. “Do you know where she went?”

Tim shook his head, grimace crossing his lips as he muttered, “I don’t think we’re gonna find her for a long time.” He glanced up at Conner. “Go. Now.” The boy nodded, flying off, and Tim took a few steps forward before stumbling into a wall. He heaved a sigh, picking up his transmitter from his belt.

He pushed a button, and a few seconds later, a voice came over the line. What’s going on?

Tim frowned and asked, “What’s your E.T.A. to earth?”

Eighteen hours. What happened?

Tim glanced back at the body, the puddle of blood seeming to consume it. “It was (Y/N). She… she killed someone.”

The voice on the line was silent, then it said, Superman is on his way. Call me when he gets there.

The line went dead, and Tim sighed, sliding down the wall. He lent his head back, eyes staring up at the sky, waiting for (Y/N)’s father.

***Later In The Cave***

The group stood in silence, faces molded in a mixture of shock and pain. Tim yelped as Alfred pushed on his side. “Ow shi—Alfred!”

The man hummed, wrapping the cloth around his side. “Apologies, Master Tim.” He tucked an ice-pack between the layers. “With the broken ribs you’ve got, it would be best to keep ice close. I also advise against any harsh movements.”

Tim nodded, gaze turning to the man beside his oldest brother. “Clark.”

The man looked up from the ground, voice stricken as he lamented, “I can’t hear her. She’s…completely silent…” his eyes held a deep and sorrowed pain. “I can’t hear my baby girl.”

The others listened, then Jason stepped forward, expression grim and solemn. “Tim, what exactly happened in San Francisco today?”

The boy looked over at him before dropping his gaze to the ground, sighing, “What didn’t happen out there, Jason?”

Tim shook his head, clearing his throat. “It was a routine mission, patrol the area before getting back to the tower, but Bart called and said that he saw what looked to be a meta-human going on a rampage. We all met up and started fighting, and while it took some time, we managed to get him to an abandoned warehouse complex. Turns out, he not only had super strength, but he could also make copies of himself, and when I figured out that the original was susceptible to damage while he had copies, I sent Conner, Bart, and (Y/N) to fight the copies while I found him.”

He paused, picking at his nails. “What I didn’t expect was for him to throw me into a forklift and break three of my ribs. I tried to get up, but before I could move, his hands were around my throat, and he was lifting me up off the ground.” He absentmindedly reached up, fingers brushing the purple hand-prints around his pale neck. “Everything was happening so fast, and I couldn’t get my bearings in time. My vision started to get dark, and I could hear (Y/N) shouting from behind, and the next thing I knew, I was being dropped again. When I could see and breath clearly again, I looked up, and I saw (Y/N)…I saw her…”

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he glanced up, seeing Conner nodding firmly at him. He let out a breath and said, “And I saw (Y/N) standing there, and the meta-human lying in a pool of his own blood and he had…he had a hole through his chest.”

Quiet gasps were heard around the cave, and Tim looked up at Clark. “It was just an accident Clark, she didn’t mean to do it. She was trying to save me.” The man didn’t look at him, eyes glued to the floor as he swallowed thickly, obviously thinking about what he was just told.

Jason stepped up to Tim. “Do you know where she went?”

Tim shook his head. “No, she took off before I could stop her.”

“So, you’re pretty much saying that she could be anywhere.” Everyone turned their head at the sound of Dick’s voice.

Tim nodded. “That’s why I called everyone here. We need help trying to find her.”

Dick turned to Wally. “You and Bart comb Central.” The two took off, and Dick turned to Kori. “You should take Roy and go check around hideouts the Outlaws frequent.” Kori and Roy made their way to the stairs. “Tim, you sit out and monitor everything. Conner, you can help me and Jason check Gotham. Clark…”

Dick walked over and resting a hand on his arm. “You should go home and tell Lois about what’s happened, then check Metropolis.” Clark nodded, but made no move to go, and Dick squeezed his arm gently. “Clark.” He looked at Dick. “We will find her, I promise.”

Clark nodded again, this time finding his feet; he paused as he reached them and turned to Jason. “Jason?” He turned, waiting for Clark to continue. “I don’t really have any doubt that you’ll be the one to find her tonight…” His voice soft as he asked, “But when you do, will you tell her that I’m not angry at her?” Jason nodded, and they watched Clark leave.

Dick faced them, tone quiet. “Conner, you and I can take North and East Gotham, Jason, you should take South and West.”

They nodded at his words, each moving to the exit. Tim’s voice reached them before they could leave. “Jason! Can you wait for a minute?”

Jason nodded at the others, watching them leave before moving back to Tim. “What’s up?”

Tim hung his head and whispered, “It’s my fault, Jason. I should’ve been more vigilant when I was fighting. If I had gotten up sooner, none of this would’ve happened. I’m sorry—”

A hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up; Jason stared at him seriously. “Tim, it wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t (Y/N)’s either.” He squeezed Tim’s shoulder gently. “Okay?” Tim nodded and Jason let go, though he saw the tears in Tim’s eyes.

***

Jason crouched atop the ledge staring down at the city, a frown crossing his lips. He didn’t bother to look up at the sound of someone’s boots hitting the rooftop, or when they stopped beside him. “Have you found her?”

He snorted, eyes following a car on the busy road. “Do you honestly think I’d be up here if I had?” He glanced up, seeing Dick slightly grinning at him.

Dick lowered himself on the ledge until he sat next to Jason, legs hanging freely off the edge. The two of them simply stared out at the streets, observing the cars carrying their passengers’ home.

After a few moments, Dick asked, “Where do you think she is?”

He watched Jason shrug and murmur, “I have no idea…I’ve searched everywhere that has any kind of meaning to us and I still can’t find her.” He looked at Dick, eyes filled with trepidation. “I’m worried about her, Dick…she’s all alone out there, thinking about what’s happened, and it’s eating me up.” He shook his head, letting out a sigh. “I shouldn’t have left San Francisco earlier. I should’ve stayed.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up at his words. “Wait, you were in San Fran earlier today?”

Jason nodded. “Spent the night with her but left in the morning.” He thumped the heel of his armored boot against the wall. “I could’ve stopped that meta and she wouldn’t have done anything.”

“You’re really torn up about her killing someone, Jason.”

Jason turned to Dick, shouting. “Of course I am!” He placed a hand against his chest. “I kill bad people because they’re evil and they deserve it. I wouldn’t want (Y/N) or any of the people I care about to follow the path that I do.” He paused, voice lowering. “(Y/N) is…a good person. She’s kind and caring and she loves everyone with everything she has. She protects those that are innocent and protects those she loves even more fiercely.”

He sighed heavily, his voice lowering to a whisper. “I’d never want her to have to think about the people she kills like I do.”

“You’re telling me you actually think about the people you kill?”

Jason let out a mirthless laugh, his gaze returning to the city. “Contrary to popular belief and what you see when you look at me, I am not a heartless killer, Dick. I know the consequences of my actions, and believe me, I think about them every moment I’m alive.” He stood and looked down at his brother. “I’m going to hit my apartment and take a nap before getting back out there.”

Dick nodded, observing him as he started climbing down the ledge; he called out to Jason. “She’s really changed you in the year you’ve been together.”

Jason snorted, “Don’t tell anyone, I’ve got a reputation to keep.” He paused, hand gripping the ledge as he replied, “ But yeah she has… and only in the best ways, Dickhead.”

“Hey!”

***

The apartment was quiet, just as he’d left it the day before, and he shucked his helmet and jacket off, placing them on the table. He bent over, undoing the laces from his boots, kicking them off before reaching up and pulling his domino mask off, raising a hand to rub the fatigue from his eyes. It was a futile attempt to delay the inevitable, and as he made his way to his room, he mentally took note of how long he needed to sleep before getting back in the field to look for her.

As he walked through the hallway, a quick intake of air sounded through the apartment, and Jason reached to his hip, pulling a pistol. He stepped carefully through the hall, checking the rooms before he came up to his bedroom. Sucking in a quiet breath, he stepped into the room, gun following his gaze as it landed on a huddled mass beside the window.

He walked silently over to it, and upon closer inspection, his eyes widened, voice laced with disbelief as he questioned, “(Y/N)?”

She raised her head, eyes red rimmed and bloodshot. “Jason?” she whispered, unsure of herself.

He lowered the gun, placing it on the nightstand before moving to her, hands grasping her upper arms. “(Y/N), we’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He shook his head. “Why didn’t you call one of us and tell us where you were?” She didn’t respond to him, simply looking down. Jason let go of one of her arms, gently cupping her cheek. “Doll?”

He felt something wet drip onto his hand, and finally, she sat up straight and stared at him. The blanket she’d been covered with fell away, and his gaze dropped to her arms. His eyes widened at the sight of the faint red smeared across her arm. “(Y/N),” He breathed.

“I kept scrubbing and scrubbing, but no matter how hard or how much I did, it wouldn’t come off.” The tears were rolling down her cheeks now, and she lowered her head. “I didn’t mean to do it Jason. I just…”

Jason reached for her, pulling her into his arms and hoisting her up. He reclined against the headboard, arms wound tightly around her. “Shh…it’s alright…”

“I killed him, Jason.” (Y/N) pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. “I kept yelling for him to let Tim go, but he wouldn’t. I could hear Tim’s heartbeat fading and I just reacted.” She gazed at her arm. “I put my arm through his chest, Jason!” (Y/N) stared at her arm as if it didn’t belong to her body, an alienated limb, then she felt herself being lifted again. “Jason what—”

He said nothing, maneuvering her into the bathroom where he sat her on the sink. She watched as he pulled a rag from the cabinet and reached below the sink for a bottle. He poured the solution into the rag, then gently took her arm, wiping it. His gaze was unreadable, but it was anything but hard; in fact, it was soft, and before she knew it, the remaining blood had been wiped away.

Jason threw the towel into the hamper and turned back to her, cradling her face in his hands. “It’s all gone, (Y/N)…it’s not there anymore.” Her eyes lowered to her arm before they rose back to his, and he pressed his forehead against hers. “You don’t have to think about this anymore, doll.”

“I killed him though, Jason.”

She felt him shake his head and he asked, “What would’ve happened if you hadn’t?” She went silent, and Jason asked again, “(Y/N), what would’ve happened to Tim if you hadn’t protected him?”

Clearing her throat, she whispered, “He would’ve died.”

“No, he would’ve been murdered.” Jason looked in her eyes. “(Y/N),you saved Tim’s life.”

“At the expense of another’s.”

Jason let out a sigh and nodded. “Sometimes that’s the only way…but (Y/N)?” She looked at him and he insisted clearly, “What you did today…does not make you a killer, and it doesn’t make you a murderer…do you understand that?”

(Y/N) blinked at him before looking away and muttering, “…You should call everyone and tell them where I am.”

Jason reached down and picked her up from the sink, flicking off the light and moving to the bed. He lowered her down before crawling under the covers beside her, pulling her to him and raising the covers to their chins.

“I’ll call later.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Right now, the only thing that matters is you.” (Y/N) bit her lip to keep from crying, and a moment later, Jason quipped, “Remember that time that you threw me out of a third story window?”

(Y/N) let out a watery laugh, burying her face in his chest. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you, Jason?”

She glanced up at him, and he leaned down, pecking her nose. “If I keep getting a reaction out of it, probably not.”

(Y/N) searched his eyes for a moment then whispered, “I love you, Jason.”

He nodded, pressing his lips to hers. “I love you too, (Y/N).” He curled his arms around her, caging her to his chest. “Get some sleep…I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She did as he said, tucking her head under his chin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, doll.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader imagines #jason todd x reader imagine #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x reader imagines #red hood x reader imagine #red hood imagines #red hood imagine #batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #clark kent #superman #conner kent #superboy #bart allen #impulse

[lululawrence]

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

#long post #rant #i almost deleted this #but you sent it on just the right day and instead i let loose #this is unedited and unbetaed lmao but ENJOY #or don't #whatever #writing stuff #i should tag it #writing SHIT #but that's not really a tag i keep cause who wants to keep track of the negatives #not me

[datawyrms]

snap

It is The Day I post my Invisobang fic! it was a wild ride to write everything and not post. This is actually the second fic I did, as the first fell into my pit of ‘i hate it now’ and will sit in limbo for the rest of eternity. I teamed up with Spirit ( @ghostportals ), who has done some accompanying art! That, and Red @redead-red saved my bacon by doing some betaing last moment, so tell em they’re great too. Hope you’re all enjoying the flood of finished fics and art this week! Only the first chapter is here, the rest is posted on my Ao3 and complete. hope you enjoy!

One careless fall changed Danny's life forever. He was kind of hoping one fall like that was enough for any lifetime. Clearly fate disagreed.

It's fine though! He's got this. He's fine. He can totally explain why he ran off with his own body to mom and dad.

The stairs had always been a little too steep, a titch too narrow, but he was used to them. Jazz worried too much- the whole Fenton family knew how to take them two steps at a time. He wasn’t going to admit she might have a point just because he’d slipped one time. He wished there was a railing to catch himself with- it would have spared him some of the pain of his head knocking on the stair.

It didn’t hurt that much. Plenty of ghosts hit harder, and far more frequently.

“Took a bit of a spill eh, Danno?”

Great, dad saw him slip like he was three again. He wanted to speak, wave his behemoth of a father off before he got tangled up in some long lecture about whatever they were working on down here. Just had to sit up.

He was a little stunned or something. All those late nights made his limbs rebel when he wanted them to hurry up. Come on, before he tries to help and accidentally shaves his hair off with some anti-ghost stepladder or something.

His arms stubbornly rejected his internal horror story. His attempt to say ‘I’m fine’ was more a gurgle than anything. Way to go, Fenton. Do everything to get dad to worry! Really using those genius genes. Jazz probably stole his anyway, or they got fried in the accident. Come on! A bit of self berating should have him sitting bolt upright by now. Maybe his arm twitched. He felt something move, anyway. More like a muscle spasm.

“Danny? You okay?” The large man came closer, his usual jog slowed.

Of course he’s fine. He could see dad, sort of. He totally moved his eyes to see him better, even. Stupid ghost powers were just acting up.  It’s okay,  just give me a second to stand up. You’re worrying over nothing.

 Jack had already made it over, crouching to get a better look at his fallen son. Like he was trying to look smaller or something with how carefully he was moving. Where was all that slow, ginger movement when he was driving? Or trying to tell them about some new invention that might burn off your eyebrows?

 I’m fine, dad. He couldn’t get the words to come out, but he was just fine. He really didn’t like the strange look on his father’s face. After all, ‘Jack Fenton doesn’t know the meaning of the word fear’ or whatever random thing he felt like shouting when chasing after entities from another dimension. Come on dad, stop looking like that. It was creeping him out. Moving should be easy, a snap, but part of him didn’t feel like doing it. Apparently an important part? He could visualize exactly what to do, but he wasn’t sitting up. He swore he could feel his muscles clenching but not finishing the movement. Maybe they were testing something down here that just made all the ectoplasm hiding inside him take a nap. His ectoplasm was so fired after this.

 “Can you look at me kiddo?”

 Coaxing him. This was weird. Why wasn’t he just hauling him off the floor and laughing about how clumsy he was at his age too? Looking at him was easy. Pretty hard to miss him, with all the bright orange.

 “Maddie? Can you come over here?” His question was strangely stilted, not much of a bellow.

 Dad was going to get the wrong idea because his body didn’t want to cooperate. Great. Fantastic. He could feel the warmth in his chest, the sign his heart was still going. He was just fine, just a bit inconvenienced at the moment. Why couldn’t dad just be  dad  and do something dumb like pick him up with one hand while sounding way too excited about some new tool that he built?

 “What’s wrong?” His mom said, her footsteps doing the same thing dad’s had. Speed that suddenly cut down to almost nothing. “Danny, did you hit your head?”

 “I think he might have, he’s not responding. I didn’t want to try to move him-“

 “You did great Jack, it’s okay.”

 Gross. He hoped they didn’t get caught up in one of their lovey dovey circles while he was stuck trying to get his stupid legs to remember how to do things. He was responding! He groaned, and he definitely twitched a bit. Weren’t they paying attention? He tried again, a bit more forcefully and ignoring the pang in his neck. More of a jolt from someone with too much static cling than actual pain, really.

 “Should I call 911? He isn’t moving! He just stayed there- didn’t even act all tough for his old man!”

 Jack was panicking.  Dad was panicking. Over nothing! Why wasn’t mom distracting him with fudge or some random study? No one was being normal today. Danny shuddered, he knew he did, it went with the pulse under his skin.

 “That’d be great sweetie, just stay close.”

 “In case you need my big strong arms to help carry him, right?”

 “Just in case.” She wasn’t wearing the hood of her jumpsuit, at least.

 It didn’t make it more comfortable when she crouched down, biting her lip and staring at him. Like this was concerning. It was the opposite of that, he was a klutz, a gangly teenager, it was normal for him to be a bit banged up. This shouldn’t concern her, or anyone. The only reason it bugged him was the not being able to move right now nonsense.

 “You aware in there sweetie?” she said, rather loudly and clapping near his ear.

  Yes I am, but I can’t tell you. Maybe he could focus on taking a breath and it would kick off whatever turned off his mind to body connection. Had he done anything strange before coming down here? Not really. He could absolutely feel her digging her nails into his earlobe though, ow! More motivation to move, but something wasn’t getting across. Maybe he was getting a bit freaked out about it too. Only because of his parents being weird. He was fine, he had to be fine. It was nothing, less than nothing.

 “I’m just going to make sure he’s still breathing Jack, do you have anyone on the line yet?”

 A loud response, but not to her question. “No it’s not a ghost emergency! It’s a human emergency!”

 Of course he was breathing. He couldn’t look that bad from such a small fall. Just breathe out the words ‘Hey mom, personal space’ and they’d laugh and it’d be nothing. All this fussing was making his skin crawl but of course he had to have ‘special ghost freezing up’. Was it his ice powers? Like he could get his powers being snarky like that, appreciated it in a twisted sort of way- but it would be better around people who wouldn’t assume the worst? Like anyone else. Even Dash.

 “Tell the operator he isn’t breathing.” Maddie’s voice was cold and controlled, even as she went back to biting her lip right after.

 He was totally breathing. He could feel the air that ran in and out of his lungs, the swell and fall that other ghosts knew as a weak point, a way to slow him down. He knew what being doubled over, air shoved right out of him from a harsh blow felt like, how it felt like the portal again. Throat twitching, body heaving and trying to regain what it lost. The darkness that bit at the edges of his vision as every nerve went screaming  You’re Dying . Hated that feeling, shook the ghosts who did that hard once they were in a thermos. This was nothing like that.

 “He isn’t breathing, you need to hurry! My wife knows CPR- just tell them to hurry this is my  son , please”

 Yelling to hide the quaver in his voice. Like a kicked puppy yelping. It sounded so wrong. This was going to be so awkward after. They’d just...pretend this never happened, right? That’d be for the best. No, he was going to get grounded forever for some ‘dumb prank’, since he was fine and worried them so much. Which didn’t seem too bad if it stopped all of...this.

 He moved a little. A toe, he was pretty sure. More notably was his mother, carefully getting him off the uneven stair to be flat on his back. Trying to keep his head from moving, and she couldn’t see he was looking at her? When she was this close? Too busy trying to be calm. Who could be busy enough to think he wasn’t breathing or tracking with his eyes? Another twitch, another inward curse that he couldn’t get back in control.

 “Just hold on, help is coming.” She said, but the half ghost couldn’t tell who she meant, exactly. Him, dad or herself? Either way the quiet remark did not prepare him for the sheer force slammed into his crest. Like she wanted to slam right through him! Was it so much to ask that his parents stop nearly killing him by trying to help? Just try moving again and everything will be fine.

 He couldn’t keep the mental mantra up when he heard- when he felt his ribs crack from the pointless force. She was killing him, he didn’t need help breathing, he had to get it through to them no matter how much his body buzzed and resisted his need to move. He had to focus and push through it, ignoring how cold and wrong it felt, how it seemed like he was squirming free of something that didn’t want him to go.

 Her bone crushing assault stopped once he got his arm up, not even needing to touch her before she froze. The fear was wrong, out of place so he redoubled his efforts, twisting and struggling against himself, the sticky mass that wasn’t letting him act or speak to calm them down.

 The phone hit the floor. He heard it. So why didn’t dad say anything? Danny twisted, wanting to make sure he was okay. Still stuck. At least he had a hand free and most of an arm, the edges of his fingers tracing the tiles of the floor. He could brace himself that way, pushing down hard to try and jar his shoulder loose. He could hear air moving, like a harsh breath out. Good- breathing was good. Even when it sounded so harsh and low. 

 “Jack- are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Maddie moved back, giving him the space he wanted ever since she’d cracked his ribs. They still stung under his skin, hissing at him to keep his parents away before he managed to get even more injuries over something so silly.

 “I’m not sure what we’re seeing.” The phone remained on the floor.

 That didn’t seem right. He’d sat up, mostly. Half sat up, propped up with an arm. Still mostly stuck and uncomfortable, the snapping and crackling sensation still clinging to his free shoulder. Really, he felt worse than how he started. at least there wasn’t pain in ‘hah my body is playing freeze tag without me’ land. The pulling sensation made his head ache and vision swim to the point he wasn’t actually sure if he was still looking at the ceiling or not. He couldn’t go back to just being frozen though, that’d suck. So just convince the rest of himself to get up. No problem!

Were lies in his head always this unconvincing? It felt like yanking himself free of a too sticky slime, strands clinging and tugging back until they finally snapped, parts still stuck but free of the main mass. At least ectoplasm had the decency not to stretch when you got drenched in it most of the time.  Come on, focus and keep it together.  He let out a wheeze as the last stubborn strands snapped, ignoring how loud it sounded to properly reorient himself.

 Sitting up, properly, good! Parents staring with weird, half horrified expressions: bad. Very, very bad. 

“I’m okay, I just fell.” Danny spoke, he could speak properly again. So why? “Sorry for scaring you guys?” He tried again, trying to ignore the first thought across his mind.

 They kept staring. Maddie seemed to be recovering, shoulders starting to relax, but she seemed to be reaching for her belt.

 He didn’t sound right. No, that wasn’t quite right, he just sounded wrong for Danny  Fenton. Who he should be right now, he hadn’t been able to talk, let alone go ghost. This probably looked really, really bad. How had he switched, anyway?

Mom was reaching for a gun, wasn’t she? Crud. Now he regretted talking at all, how was he going to explain why Danny Phantom was treating two ghost hunters like his parents? Or how he managed to look like their kid. Maybe he could change back and convince them they were seeing things?

Yeah no, that was way too dumb.

 “Wait.” Jack rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder, causing her to stop pulling the weapon. He wasn’t looking at the ghost at all, just her. Maddie remained stiff, not able to ignore the glowing kid on her floor.

 Okay...dad was usually the gung ho one. Maybe he could get away with this? Danny tried to get a better grip on the situation. Felt a new pain, sharp and cold in his throat. Deep green scars clashed against his white gloves and ran all across his jumpsuit,  glow intensifying as the panic choked him into silence. Fresh and angry like back- back before he managed to stumble out of the portal when he died when the accident happened.

With his human arms just as scared below them, still against the tile. The damage looked old, half scabbed over with only a dull glow deep in the death marks wounds. His arms attached to the rest of his body- that he was half out of. 

 Why? How was his body still and silent while he was sitting and looking at it. He’s cold. His body is cold. It isn’t  breathing  there isn’t some other facet of his personality sitting behind the dull blue eyes. This isn’t how it works! If he splits, it’s just temporary, he can fix it but his other half- corpse is wrong.

The pulling and clinging at his legs doesn’t feel like slime anymore. Rotting flesh that wants to drag him back, smother him in a cloying warmth that will only remind him why it burned, how it hurt. He had to move, he couldn’t stay half like this, it would get better once it wasn’t like this.

It didn’t want to let go as he tried to pull away, ectoplasm getting snagged on every nerve and muscle fiber, each pause a reminder of the shock and pain of his end that day.

He knew he screamed when he pulled free and slammed into the wall, furious green scars still marring his jumpsuit where there should be none.

 What would Mom and Dad think?

 No no no no no. He spotted movement from them and acted. He couldn’t let his mom break his body more, or look at it too closely. Dad couldn’t see what happened! This was fine, he could fix this!

 He grabbed his corpse and fled through the wall.

#Danny Phantom #invisobang #invisobang 2021 #jack fenton #Maddie Fenton #there are a lot of way better fics made for this #but hopefully you'll enjoy mine too

[jayeray-hq]

Br(Atsumu)

Hey everyone! This is the piece for @maizumis sfw brat collab! It's 100% sfw and if you enjoy it make sure to check out the Masterlist!

If you like this and want to see more of my writing for Atsumu check out my Character Masterlist!

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all Fluff

You watched amused as Atsumu slumped over the counter of his brother’s restaurant, arms pressed to his sides dejectedly and cheek smooshed against the hard surface. You couldn’t see his face from the angle you were at, but there was no doubt in your mind he had a pout on his face.

Osamu was standing behind the counter, clearly purposefully ignoring his brother’s sulking as he shaped onigiri in his hands, a thoroughly exasperated look on his face. His head lifted when he heard the bell overhead ring as you entered the shop, but a quick finger to your lips kept him from greeting you by name.

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya what can I get ya?” he chimed automatically, the usual bored drawl in his voice.

“How much for your twin?” you asked, your voice making Atsumu jerk a little in recognition, though he didn’t bother lifting his head, choosing instead to heave a sigh and pointedly ignore you, letting you know exactly what kind of mood your boyfriend was in.

“You can have that for free,” Osamu told you, face scrunched up in disgust, “In fact if yer haulin’ trash outta my restaurant I almost feel like I should be payin’ you instead.”

“Who you callin’ trash, ya scrub,” Atsumu sneered at his brother, finally raising his head to glare at his brother.

“Who else but you, ya trashy scrub!” Osamu retorted, not impressed in the slightest.

Luckily there was no one else in the restaurant at the moment to watch their antics, because while you found them entertaining you knew some found them more than a bit intimidating. Still you didn’t think either twin would be too happy if they actually started brawling in Osamu’s restaurant so you walked up behind your boyfriend, threading your fingers through his hair and gently tugging backwards until his head was resting against your chest.

He immediately quieted down a bit, though you could tell from the look on Osamu’s face that he was still glaring at his twin. Carefully you rested a hand on his shoulder and stroked your fingers through the soft golden waves, massaging his scalp in a way you knew he loved as you asked, “Rough day, Tsumu?”

He let out a huff, but didn’t bother to respond, clearly purposefully ignoring you, even if he didn’t actually pull away from your hands. You rolled your eyes at this childish behavior exchanging a look with Osamu.

“Don’t do that,” Atsumu hissed at the two of you.

“Do what?” Osamu demanded exasperated.

“Talk to each other like I ain’t sittin’ right here in front of ya,” your boyfriend retorted angrily.

“Ya really need to get yer ears cleaned out if ya thought we were talkin’ ya deaf scrub,” Osamu hissed, thoroughly fed up with your boyfriend who was clearly looking to pick a fight.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re ignoring me Tsumu?” you asked patiently, knowing that when he got in this kind of mood patience was the best way to deal with him. If you snapped back or got sarcastic it would only escalate the situation.

“It’s only fair,” he grumbled, still pointedly not looking at you, “Since you’ve been ignorin’ me all day.”

“Ignoring you?” you repeated completely and utterly baffled, “But weren’t you practicing with the rest of the Black Jackals today? And you know I was working too.”

“Ya didn’t let me kiss ya goodbye this mornin’ and ya ignored my texts all day,” Atsumu sulked, “I was startin’ to think ya weren’t even goin’ ta come fer our monthly dinner.”

“I was going to be late, and you were refusing to wake up,” you told your boyfriend reasonably, more amused than annoyed now that you knew what was bothering him, “But I still kissed you goodbye Tsumu and I even left a note for you.”

“Ya left a note?” he asked, voice perplexed though still sulky, “Where? I didn’t see it.”

“In the fridge on top of the bento I packed for you last night,” you told him puzzled that he hadn’t seen it, “Where I was sure you’d see it.”

“I forgot to bring my lunch,” he told you miserably, which definitely helped to explain his mood. Atsumu almost never ate if he didn’t bring his lunch with him insisting the food wasn’t good enough and didn’t match his diet plan. However, when he didn’t eat he tended to get hangry, which had no doubt contributed quite a bit to his foul mood.

“Sounds like a you problem,” Osamu jeered, clearly unimpressed. He of all people knew how nasty his brother could get when he didn’t eat. You gave him a look over his brother’s head again, trying to tell him not to rile him up again, and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Yer doin’ it again,” Atsumu whined, though he’d lost the slightly bitter edge from before.

“If you don’t like it, then maybe you should turn and look at me, so I can’t talk over your head anymore,” you pointed out mildly, feeling a bit like you were dealing with a sulking toddler, but willing to indulge him for now seeing as these kinds of moods were rare nowadays, something Ojirou had told you was clearly a long awaited sign of maturity from the former Inarizaki setter.

Your boyfriend huffed, but in the end swiveled his seat to look at you as you took the seat next to him. However you knew exactly what to do to coax him out of his bad mood. Gently you cupped his face in your palms and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, pulled back for a second, then pressed a longer lingering one to his willing mouth.

“There,” you assured him nuzzling your nose against his affectionately before pulling back, “The kiss goodbye I owed you from this morning, and a kiss to say I’m sorry.”

“Ya forgot to give me a kiss hello,” he pointed out, though you could see the corners of his lips pull upwards as you coaxed him out of his mood.

You grinned and leaned forward to press another kiss to his lips, enjoying the feel and the warmth of it as he cupped your face with one of his hands and held you close for a long moment both of you ignoring Osamu who was fake gagging in the background.

“But why didn’t ya text me?” Atsumu asked you when you parted again, his forehead resting on yours as he peered at you with anxious honey brown eyes, “I thought ya were mad at me.”

“My phone is dead,” you told him, with an affectionate huff, pulling it from your pocket and handing it over, “I must’ve forgotten to charge it last night.”

“Oh,” he told you, playing with the power button and refusing to meet your eyes clearly a little embarrassed at his overreaction, though he did quietly clarify, “So yer not mad?”

“I don’t think I have anything to be mad about,” you admitted, then teased, “Unless you’ve done something I should know about…?”

“No!” he protested immediately hands waving wildly in front of him as he declared his innocence looking entirely too alarmed, “I haven’t done anythin’ I swear!”

“I believe you,” you told him with an amused giggle, grabbing one of his flailing hands and interlacing your fingers together.

“Ya shouldn’t,” Osamu interjected with a huff, “If he hasn’t done somethin’ stupid recently I’ll eat my hat, and if he really hasn’t then he’s goin’ to be due fer it in the near future.”

“I’m not that bad,” Atsumu hissed at his twin, thoroughly offended.

“Ya are,” Osamu jeered, though it was more on the teasing end of things, “Otherwise ya wouldn’t have come in here and moped around, floppin’ all over my counter like an ugly fish and makin’ a nuisance of yerself because ya thought yer girl was mad at ya.”

“How can ya call me any sort of ugly when we have the same face!” Atsumu complained, exasperated. The argument was one you’d heard a thousand times now from both twins and somehow it never ceased to amuse you.

“It’s cuz I ain’t a whiney baby like you,” Osamu huffed.

“Princess, tell him I ain’t a whiney baby,” Atsumu whined, completely proving Osamu’s point and making you giggle helplessly as he pouted at you, informing you, “Yer my girlfriend, yer supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side,” you assured him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his pouting lips unable to help yourself, even as you told him, “But you are a bit of a brat Tsumu.”

“A what?” Atsumu asked, thrown by your use of English. He’d gotten better at speaking it a bit, picking up words here and there, though he did get thrown off sometimes when you threw out random words.

“A BrAtsumu?” Osamu repeated, his head cocked to the side in utter confusion.

You gaped at him for several seconds repeating the word over in your mind giggles beginning to spill from your mouth as both twins looked on with identical looks of confusion on their faces. The looks only made things worse and you began to howl with laughter, nearly falling out of your chair if not for Atsumu’s steadying hands.

“Brat – Tsumu, Bratsumu,” you managed to stutter out, wheezing as you tried to catch your breath, “It’s perfect, Osamu it’s perfect.”

“I don’t get it,” the onigiri chef informed you flatly, though you could see the corners of his lips curled upwards, amused at your amusement if nothing else.

“Brat means gaki,” you explained as you caught your breath, clutching Atsumu’s forearms for balance earning a snort of amusement from your boyfriend’s twin.

“Oy, oy, should ya really be callin’ yer boyfriend a brat,” Atsumu protested, though you could tell he wasn’t actually upset, just exasperated, “Especially when I just saved ya from either face plantin’ or crackin’ yer head open. What happens if I decide to drop ya huh?”

“Then I guess I’ll have to do this,” you told him lunging forward to wrap your arms around him instead to better brace yourself.

He caught you easily with a huff of amusement and cuddled you close pressing a tender kiss to your hair before he nuzzled his face into your neck with a warm chuckle as he asked, “So guess that means ya love me after all, even if ya are makin’ fun of me.”

“I always love you Tsumu,” you assured him affectionately, pulling back slightly so you could peer up into his eyes and hoping he could see how serious you were about this, “Even when you’re being a BrAtsumu.”

“Love ya too princess,” he told you fondly pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, “Gonna love ya fer ever, and m’sorry fer bein’ a pain today. Was just rough, cuz I thought ya were mad at me, an I woke up late, forgot my lunch, and didn’t do well in practice.”

“It’s okay Tsumu,” you assured him tenderly, “You weren’t that bad, though I’d appreciate if in the future you talked to me before getting angry.”

“I will,” he assured you nuzzling close.

You sighed in utter contentment, enjoying the feel of his arms, though you knew you probably shouldn’t stay too long. You were in public after all.

“Would the two of ya knock it off with the lovey dovey crap already, yer goin’ to scare away my customers,” sure enough, Osamu interrupted, though he looked more fond than annoyed, even if he was clearly giving it a go, “An where’s my apology huh? It was my counter ya were attemptin’ to merge with.”

“Thanks for putting up with us Osamu,” you told him sincerely, cutting in before your boyfriend could, meaning every word. The man really did put up with a lot at times and you really were grateful for it.

“Yeah well, the least I can do fer ya fer puttin’ up with my lump of a twin,” Osamu told you clearly a little embarrassed as he pulled off his cap and ruffled his hair, heaving a sigh, “Yer really good fer him ya know, too good if ya ask me, but thanks fer takin’ care of the scrub.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you told him honestly, “He may be a scrub, but he’s my scrub and I really do love him you know.”

“I know,” Osamu told you with a fond smile, “Of all people I’m glad it’s you that’s goin’ ta be my future sister-in-law.”

“Oy, what did I tell the two of ya about talkin’ like I ain’t here,” Atsumu protested, though there was a slightly wavering edge to his voice that told you he didn’t actually mind all that much, the pink flush on his cheeks letting you see how touched he was, even as he rushed to change the subject, “Besides we’re here fer food Samu so why aren’t ya feedin’ us?”

“Fine, fine,” Osamu told him, rolling his eyes and clearly deciding to concede just this once, “What do ya want ya big glutton.”

As the twins bickered a bit you couldn’t help but smile, enjoying the warmth of Atsumu’s arm around your waist and the way you could clearly see how both twins kept an eye on your comfort even as they argued, always sure to include you in the conversation and to let you know you were free to interject at any time.

Osamu had always made sure you felt like you were part of the family, and Atsumu, though he could be a brat at times, but he was your brat and he doted on you like nothing else. Looking at them you could almost see the future, with you solidly at Atsumu’s side coming to visit Osamu in his shop so you could all catch up together, hopefully someday with a spouse for Osamu too if he wanted one, and children that would argue the same way the twins did causing mayhem wherever they went.

It was a lovely dream for the future, one you hoped with all your heart would become reality, but for now you were content to simply enjoy the moment savoring every second of being loved by the biggest brat you knew.

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#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x female reader #atsumu x you #atsumu miya #atsumu x female reader #atsumu fluff #brat atsumu #atsumu fanfic #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fanfiction #hq!bratcollab #JayeRayWrites

[maboroshi-no]

Hamefura LN11 - Katarina’s post-confession talk with Keith

Hello!

This is not a scanlation, but as I was reading Volume 11 of the Hamefura light novel, I felt the need to translate the scenes where Katarina decides to give respectively Geordo and Keith some kind of reply in regards to their previous love confessions.

Now it’s Keith’s!

Context: After talking with Geordo and telling him she has decided to face her feelings, Katarina is preparing herself to have the same talk with Keith since he also confessed to her before.

Katarina’s POV

The carriage has arrived to Claes's mansion. If it were like always, I would just take it easy, eating dinner and then sleeping soundly afterwards. But today there was something I needed to do. As I got down the carriage, I fired myself up. I passed through the entrance, and as I walked down the corridors leading to my room, I saw Keith walking in front of me.

Keith: "Welcome back, Big Sister... Rather, what's wrong? You are making a weird face..."

Keith, who was greeting me as usual, looked worried upon seeing my tense and stiff expression.

Katarina: "Umm, nothing, don't worry about it. Rather, I have something I'd like to talk to you about, so can I come to your room after dinner?"

Keith: "Sure. You can come anytime."

he said, smiling. Keith probably thinks I want to vent like usual. He has been doing a lot for me. If I had told him right away, things would have probably been awkward during dinner since we are facing each other at the table, so it is better for me this way. For the time being, I have set up a meeting with Keith. I got ready in my room and attended dinner. Honestly, when I thought of what would come afterwards, I felt tense and couldn't eat wholeheartedly like usual. This caused Keith to be worried once again, which made me feel even worse. And then dinner came to an end and I headed towards Keith's room.  

Keith: "So what happened?!"

Keith was completely in "listening mode" which prompted him to ask me this. He really was a reliable and kind younger brother. During hard times, he would always stay with me until I was better. I can't count the number of times he fixed things for me after I messed up. When I think about it, no, even without thinking about it, he has been taking such good care of me, I owe him so much. Like Geordo, Keith is handsome, brilliant, kind, and such a wonderful man. It is a complete wonder why such dreamy persons like them would say they love me. These two have always been with me and I know there is no way they would confess to me as a joke, so I don't doubt their feelings. But, still, I can't help wondering "why me?". Even without putting myself down, I am just a normal girl without any kind of appeal. I am not smart and not particularly beautiful. The only amazing thing I have is my lineage (which is the same as the Katarina from the game). The only difference between the Katarina from the game and me is that I am blessed with lots of friends. Around me there are lots of talented, lovely, pretty girls with Maria the protagonist at the top of the list. Even though Geordo and Keith interact with these beautiful girls, how come I am the one they fell in love with? Maybe they are too used to pretty girls and they have come to have special tastes? Or maybe they love evil-looking faces with slanted eyes? As I was thinking about this, I ended up lost in my thoughts, and...

Keith: "What's the matter, Big Sister? Are you alright?"

And I ended up making Keith worried again. Aaah, that won't do. I didn't come here today to cause him worry but to tell him my feelings! I mustered my courage, and

Katarina: "U-Umm, Keith, you confessed your feelings to me before, right?"

As I said this, Keith opened his eyes wide.

Keith: "You remember?!"

as he raised his voice with surprise. With his face and voice, I felt terrible. He thought I had completely forgotten about it. No, to be exact, I forgot about it until today. I unconsciously chased away the memory and then let time pass. I took a breath to pull myself together, and

Katarina: "Well, I never forgot about it, but I had been relegating it to a corner of my memory." 

As I said this, Keith's face stiffened.

Keith: "As I thought, did my feelings bother you?"

He told me, with a sad face. Seeing Keith's deeply hurt expression, I panicked. I made Keith sad again. Even though that's not it.

Katarina: "No, that's not it! I never thought for a second that your feelings were a bother! It is just that I am scared of falling in love, so I have been keeping the thought away!"

As I yelled this, this time Keith's eyes widened.

Keith: "You are scared of love?"

 Katarina: "Yes, until now I thought I would meet my doom if I ever fell in love, so I had been scared of falling in love."

Keith looked bewildered by my statement, but kept silent and let me continue. 

Katarina: "I am scared of love but I also didn't acknowledge that I was scared, so I kept away from love. So at that time when you confessed your feelings to me, I unconsciously tried to forget it. Even though you had finally confessed your feelings to me. I am so sorry."

As I lowered my head, Keith gently stroked it. And then

Keith: "Thank you for telling me this, and sorry I didn't notice."

 This is what he said. I suddenly raised my head. Keith had a painful expression on his face and smiled awkwardly. I did it again! I didn't want him to make this face because of me! I am so hopeless! 

Katarina: "No that's not it! I didn't know myself I was scared of love! And today I have finally realized it! And now that I am aware of it, I want to change!"

I told Keith this, staring straight into his eyes:

Katarina: "I want to properly face my fear, and then your feelings too!"

Keith: "...Big Sister"

A smile appeared on Keith's face and I felt relieved. But, even if I made this assertion, I remembered there was another thing I had to say.

Katarina: "But, right now, there is a serious matter I must take care of, and it is only after I finish it that I will be able to seriously get down to it."

As I said this, Keith chuckled.

Keith: "Okay, I understand. Thank you. And if you are ever in trouble because of this serious matter, you know you can rely on me, okay?"

Katarina: "Ah, sure. I am always relying on you."

As I said this, Keith smiled, looking so happy. Ah, it is the usual Keith. Keith is always smiling like this by my side. Oh, that's right. There is one more thing I must tell him.

Katarina: "Keith, you know, I am scared of love and I still don't understand this feeling well, but at that time when you confessed to me, I was happy. I was really happy that someone as wonderful as you would tell me he loved me."

As I said this, I knew the temperature immediately raised on my face.

Katarina: "A-Anyway, this is all I had to say, so good night!"

As I became strangely flustered, I only said what I needed to say and then rushed out the room without waiting for a reply, just like I did with Geordo. And then I sprinted towards my room full speed. When I was back in my room, the fever rising on my face didn't calm down and this time I made Anne worry.

Katarina: "I am fine. I just got hot because I sprinted full speed to my room."

As I made this excuse, Anne calmly said this.

Anne: "Lady Katarina, if you sprint full speed while inside the mansion, Madam will be furious again."

Katarina: "...You're right. I'll be careful."

It is true that I would have made Mother angry if she had seen me. Thank goodness she didn't. After drinking some water, my fever finally went down after a while and I went to bed. Aaah, this was so embarrassing, I thought there was steam coming out of my head. For me to end like this just by telling them I was happy they confessed their feelings to me, I feel like the road to love will be long. But I've made up my mind. I will properly face my feelings so that these two won't make these faces again. So first, I have to overcome my doom flags! After making this bold assertion, I can't let it fade away in the background. I will win against FL2's doom flags. And then I will properly think about my feelings. I won't run away anymore. With my new determination, I thought I would think a bit more of my measures against my doom flags, but because of today's actions and talks that I never did before, I was somehow exhausted and fell into the world of dreams. In my dream, Geordo and Keith smiled at me gently and I was happy. I will do my best!

Keith POV

I, Keith Claes, upon hearing that my sister Katarina Claes was back home, got out of my room to greet her. After walking for a while, I saw Katarina, but unlike usual she had a stiff expression on her face. 

Keith: "Welcome back, Big Sister.... Rather, what's wrong? You're making a weird face."

I was worried, so I asked her this. And,

Katarina: "Umm, nothing, don't worry about it. Rather, I have something I'd like to talk to you about so can I come to your room after dinner?"

This is what she replied with a somewhat stiff voice. Something worrying her probably happened again and she would like to talk about it.

Keith: "Sure. You can come anytime."

I replied, with a smile. During dinner, Katarina wasn't in her best form either. She must be in great trouble. I will listen to her closely and cheer her up like usual. After dinner was over, Katarina had a stiff expression on her face when she came to my room, so

Keith: "So what happened?!"

I asked eagerly. On my desk, there were some sweets and tea I had prepared to cheer Katarina up, but she didn't seem to have noticed them. This is unusual. This must be some serious trouble. I was worried and I kept looking at her, but now she is lost in thoughts. Is she really alright?

Keith: "What's the matter, Big Sister? Are you alright?"

As I asked her this, standing close to her, Katarina snapped out of it and looked at me. And then she said

Katarina: "U-Umm, Keith, you confessed your feelings to me before, right?"

As she uttered these words, I opened my eyes wide and

Keith: "You remember?!"

I uttered at her with a shocked voice. At that time, when I was kidnapped by people involved with dark magic, while in a hazy state I confessed to Katarina the feelings I had for her for so many years. After that, she told me "You were pretty dazed so I guess you mistook me for someone else, right?" to which I replied "This wasn't a mistake, I love you, Katarina". But maybe because she is dense or maybe because she is a late bloomer, she completely forgot about it. So I thought she didn't remember it at all. As I was in complete shock, Katarina continued. 

Katarina: "Well, I never forgot about it, but I had relegated it to a corner of my memory." 

I see. She had relegated it in a corner of her memory. So in other words,

Keith: "As I thought, did my feelings bother you?"

I had lived alongside her as her younger brother all this time and I knew she didn't see me as a man at all, but... I just wanted to tell her my feelings no matter what. Even knowing it might bother her. Despite this, having the truth thrown at me caused such a vivid pain in my chest.

Katarina realized something looking at me and

Katarina: "No, that's not it! I never thought for a second that your feelings were a bother! It is just that I am scared of falling in love, so I have been keeping the thought away!"

She said this, shouting. 

Keith: "You are scared of love?"

 I was surprised once again by a reply that I didn't expect. What does she mean by that?

Katarina: "Yes, until now I thought I would meet my doom if I ever fell in love, so I had been scared of falling in love."

Katarina was explaining this to me with all her might. "She will be doomed if she falls in love"? I don't really understand why she would think that but it is not like it is the first time I fail to understand her thinking. So I kept quiet and listened to the rest of her explanation.

Katarina: "I am scared of love but I also didn't acknowledge that I was scared, so I kept away from love. So at that time when you confessed your feelings to me, I unconsciously tried to forget it. Even though you had finally confessed your feelings to me. I am so sorry."

Katarina said this and then lowered her head. Ah... So this is how Katarina felt. I didn't notice at all. Because she had been smiling like there wasn't a single thing she was afraid of, I ended up missing it. Even though I had always been at her side. I slowly stroke her head. 

Keith: "Thank you for telling me this, and sorry I didn't notice."

 As I said this, Katarina suddenly raised her head. I wanted to give her a smile but I wonder if I could do it well.

Katarina: "No that's not it! I didn't know myself I was scared of love! And today I have finally realized it! And now that I am aware of it, I want to change!"

After she uttered this, Katarina said this while staring straight into my eyes.

Katarina: "I want to properly face my fear, and then your feelings too!"

Aah... This person is straightforward in all respects, she is not like a weak person that I must always protect. The pain in my chest disappeared, and instead I was filled with an indescribable warmth. I fell in love with this woman called Katarina Claes all over again. But then,

Katarina: "But, right now, there is a serious matter I must take care of, and it is only after I finish it that I will be able to seriously get down to it."

She said this somewhat awkwardly. This must be about the thing she has been worrying about since she joined the Ministry of Magic. After all, Katarina is bad at doing two things at the same time. Seeing Katarina saying such a thing so seriously, I let out a chuckle.

Keith: "Okay, I understand. Thank you. And if you are ever in trouble because of this serious matter, you know you can rely on me, okay?"

As I said this, Katarina replied this, looking happy:

Katarina: "Ah, sure. I am always relying on you."

Of course, as I heard this a smile naturally formed on my face. And then her "I want to properly face your feelings too!" words from earlier slowly sunk in. This has been such a long unrequited love. I had lived in the same house as her without her seeing me as a man at all, and even after I somehow confessed my feelings to her, she forgot about it right away. As I felt deeply moved over the fact that the day Katarina would tell me these words had finally come, Katarina dropped a more devastating bomb.

Katarina: "Keith, you know, I am scared of love and I still don't understand this feeling well, but when you confessed to me, I was happy. I was really happy that someone as wonderful as you would tell me he loved me."

Katarina said this, her face completely red. 

Katarina: "A-Anyway, this is all I had to say, so good night!"

She said these final words before leaving my room like she was running away. I, who was remaining in the room, had frozen up, with my brain unable to process the words she said just now. What did Katarina just say? Let's see, it was: "When you confessed to me, I was happy. I was really happy that someone as wonderful as you would tell me he loved me." I think. Eh? I wonder if this is reality. To confirm it, I pinched my cheek and then I felt pain. No, there is no way such a thing would happen in reality. But when I pinched the other cheek, I still felt pain. And then it finally started to sink that it was indeed reality. And then I heard these words again in my head: "When you confessed to me, I was happy. I was really happy that someone as wonderful as you would tell me he loved me".

Keith: "No waaaaaay?!"

I involuntarily shouted, and a surprised servant who was outside of the room called out to me:

Servant: Lord Keith, are you alright?!

As I was in complete confusion, I stuttered

Keith: Ah! Umm, no...I am alright. Umm... I-I will go to sleep now, so you can leave.

As the servant returned to their room after I somehow squeezed these words out, I jumped onto my bed pressing my face against the pillow trying to calm myself down, but I just couldn't. Even though I never did this when I was a child, I vigorously rolled on the top of the bed. What should I do? I am so happy, it feels like my emotions will burst out! "Someone as wonderful as you". "I was happy". Katarina told me these words and then her face turned bright red. Remembering this over and over again, I kept rolling on top of the bed for almost the whole night.

#hamefura #bakarina #my next life as a villainess: all routes leads to doom #katarina claes #keith claes

[theoreticslut]

“It’s nice to see you happy, princess.”

part 1 / part 2 

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley

requested: no

word count: 3.9k

warnings: ANGST, light swearing

A/N: hi, hello! I, uh, almost forgot to post this ngl. You guys really liked the first two parts so I’m hoping you’ll like this part as well. fair warning, i hurt my heart writing this one so please let me know what you think! there will be at least one more part, but depending on how it pans out there may be more than that. quick reminders: thank you for being so supportive of me and my works, it truly means the world to me so just thank you. so much. hence i’m doing a 300 follower sleepover to thank all of you lovely people for following me. (I’m also taking requests too - you can check out my holiday prompt list here)

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton @lauren2408 @mischievous-queen @bunnyboo7 @grandeoptimist @kaitlynw011 @daddystevee @slytherinxhunter

^let me know if you’d like to be added / removed!

You sigh as you lay your head down against the library table. It’s been just over a week since the fight between your ex and the twins.

As you had instructed, both Fred and George had checked in with you so you could assess how they were healing. Fred was looking much better; the few cuts he had had healed relatively quick with the help of the balm and his bruises were nearly gone save for his black eye. You expected that to be gone in another few days though.

George, however, worried you. His knuckles and small bruises on his hands and cheek healed perfectly, but the bruises to his torso were taking much longer. The balm was helping, but it didn’t seem to be healing it any faster.

Thinking about it made you upset. If George had just stayed out of the way he wouldn’t be all bruised up now and he and Fred wouldn’t have to spend a night in detention each week.

You groan as you turn your attention back to the assignment in front of you. It wasn’t due until Monday and it was only Thursday, but if you didn’t get it done today and tomorrow it wouldn’t be getting done.

“Y/n?”

You turn to see George watching you from a few feet away and you smile at him.

“Hey, George. What are you doing here?”

Since the night of the fight you and the twins had been getting along better. They often sat with you at meals or even just around the common room and would joke around. You had been getting to know each other more substantially. Before, you knew each other from what you’ve each observed or heard from other people. Now, you guys were actually learning and trying to get to know the other with deep conversations at night or even silly games of twenty questions when others, besides the golden trio, were around.

You enjoyed it, but along with getting to know the two better came a handful of other issues. You had always been aware of how attractive the two were, but now you found yourself zoning out in complete bliss whenever one of them looked at you or moved a certain way. Not to mention how your heart swelled whenever they smiled or laughed, especially if it was over something you had said or done. You knew you were falling in love with them, but you couldn’t find a way to stop it. You’re pretty sure you had been falling for them for awhile, but your irritation for the two had kept it at bay.

George scrunches his nose at you wondering why you would be here in the library so early in the morning. He knew you studied diligently, but on a Thursday morning before breakfast? You must surely be crazy.

You honestly could be crazy, but that wouldn’t change the fact of how attractive you were sitting there. George noticed how you sat with one leg tucked under the other which he was amazed at giving the chairs in here weren’t very wide. He noticed how tired you seemed, yet somehow still looked wide awake.

He could tell you had showered as your hair was still a bit damp and how he could smell your lovely perfume from this far away. All of it together drove him crazy, especially when he added in how you sat with your head resting in your hand and how adorably frustrated you were with whatever you were working on.

“I could ask you the same thing. Breakfast has just barely begun. How long have you been here?” He asks as he walks closer to you, not sitting down though.

“Oh, uhm, I don’t know. I was up a little before 6 and came here after I showered. Maybe two hours?”

“Two hours in the library before breakfast? You must be crazy.” He chuckles to which you roll your eyes.

You, Fred, and George were starting to form a friendship out of all this and it was exciting. It was surprisingly easy to talk and joke with them when you weren’t fuming over being pranked. You had even been able to understand and enjoy how brilliant their pranks were when you weren’t at the receiving end of them.

“I couldn’t sleep. What else am I supposed to do?”

He frowns as you start packing up your things. He and Fred had finally managed to apologize for butting into your business which you easily forgave them for. You probably wouldn’t have except for the fact that they had defended you and ended up getting hurt in the process. That and once you had started getting to know them, you knew they only did so because they cared.

You knew it was silly to forgive them solely because they had fought for you, but as you had told them, no one had ever done that for you. You were flattered and felt like you kind of owed them kindness at the very least.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asks as he takes your books from you so you could put on your robes. You hated wearing the robes if you were just going about your business, so you often took them off when studying.

“Not sure, I haven’t been sleeping well most of this week.”

“Does it have anything to do with that fight?” He asks gently, watching your face for any indication that it was.

“No,” you frown.

“Y/n. Please stop trying to be fine.” George begs, giving you those signature puppy dog eyes you’ve seen them use before.

“Fred and I can both tell you’re still upset about it all.”

“It’s that obvious, huh?” You joke as you sigh. Even though you were glad they had been there for you, you were still upset it all happened in the first place.

“You’re like an open book.” He smiles, bumping his shoulder into yours to get you to smile.

You weren’t sure how, but it seems that Fred and George just understand you without you even having to say anything. It was kind of scary and a little bit annoying, but they knew when to back off in a conversation or when to grab ahold of your hand to comfort you. They just knew and it made you feel special. It’s just another reason you found yourself falling for them.

“I guess I’m still just a bit scared, George. I knew he was a pig, but I never thought he’d try to hurt me like that.” You admit and george frowns, watching as you relive it.

When your hand comes up to trace the line of faint bruises that’re left on your neck from his hands, George grabs a hold of your hand, kissing the back of it. He doesn’t like to think about what that gremlin could’ve done.

“I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if you and Fred weren’t there...” you trail off. “I mean would I even be here right now? Then, I wake up gasping for air.” You frown, feeling a bit naked telling him this, but at the same time you feel that he’ll understand and know what to say.

George shivers at the thoughts running through your head. He abruptly stops the two of you from walking, setting your books on a ledge as he pulls you into him. It’s not fair that you still have to relive that day after day. It never should have happened in the first place.

“I’m so sorry, darling. Godrick, I would give anything to take away this pain.” He sighs, holding you tight to his chest, your arms wrapped around his stomach as his are wrapped around around your shoulders and the back of your head to keep your face buried in his chest. Unconsciously he plays with the ends of your hair and you smile lightly, hugging him a bit tighter.

~.~

“Y/n!” You hear your name called as Fred and George sit down on either side of you in charms the next day.

They both have huge smiles on their faces and you wonder what in merlin’s name they were up to.

“Hey, guys.”

“You’ve got to see this!” Fred smiles, winking at you.

“See what? You guys are up to something, aren’t you?”

“Always, darling.” George smiles, keeping his eyes across the desks to where Will sits.

“What have you done now?”

“Just watch. You’re going to enjoy it.” Fred smirks.

When George had told him how terrified you still were because of Will, they knew they had to find a way to get him back for you. They had to embarrass him and make him realize that he couldn’t keep going around being an ass. They had spent a good majority of the night working on this just for you.

You sigh but do as they say, giggling as they nudge your sides when Will finally walks in to his seat where an envelope had been sitting.

You watch as he opens it, jumping back as it starts sounding an alarm.

“STAY AWAY! THIS MAN IS TRAGICALLY DIM WITTED AND ABUSIVE!” It shouts, fireworks and confetti exploding from it as it spits bright red ink onto him.

It repeats itself a couple more times before  burning up in a display of fireworks.

You have to bite your lip to hold back your laughter at the pure embarrassment written across his face as the rest of the class is chatting and laughing amongst themselves at his expense.

“Guys!” You say a bit shocked but impressed nonetheless.

“You like it?” George asks.

“It’s a bit over the top, but it was really funny.” You admit, smiling as you still try to hold back your laughter.

“The best part of it is that that ink can’t be removed until it disappears 12 hours from now.” Fred says, leaning in so only you and George can hear.

“No!” You gasp, hiding your smile behind your hand.

“Oh, yeah. Everyone will know what he’s done.” George smiles and you can’t help but start laughing.

Fred and George look at each other and smile, both of them biting on their bottom lips to keep from smiling too big. They couldn’t help it though, after everything that’s happened, they were ecstatic to see you happy and laughing. And knowing it was because of them, Merlin that was a thousand times better.

“It’s nice to see you happy, princess.” Fred smiles, wrapping him arms around you waist as he pulls you closer to him on the bench.

“Thank you, guys. You’re too good to me.” You smile, hugging Fred before turning and hugging George.

~.~

“I should have known it was Fred and George’s doing!” Hermione chuckles when you tell her what the twins had done in charms today.

“Oh Merlin, Hermione, it was hilarious! You should have seen the look on his face, he was so embarrassed and confused. It was honestly so great knowing he finally understood how I felt.”

“I’m just glad you’re happy, y/n. You deserve it more than anything.” The twins hear Hermione say to you as they come up to your door. They can only imagine you smiling and blushing at her words on the other side.

They smile, loving the idea of you so happy. They had only been falling more in love with you since starting this friendship, but there was no way they’d complain about it.

They loved the ache in their chest when you did anything remotely cute and the racing of their hearts only reminded them that they were alive and could feel such love for someone. They couldn’t complain about how sweaty their palms got or how dry their throats became when they got nervous around you because to them, it was all worth it. They couldn’t imagine being in love with anyone but you. You were absolute perfection in their eyes and would happily have to endure any form of torture if it meant they could still see you.

This was so much better than pranking you and getting you riled up. While they did love when you got angry with them over something so trivial, they loved having their breath taken away whenever you hugged them or chuckled at them. Having you close to them was so much better than anything they could have imagined.

They gently knock on the door to have Hermione open it a few seconds later.

“Oh, your boys are here.” She smiles, letting them into the room.

“They’re not my boys, ‘mione.” You mumble, rolling your eyes as a blush creeps across your cheeks before you smile at the two redheads who have taken a seat on your bed.

Hermione smirks at you, raising an eyebrow as she knows how you feel about them. You had only been talking to her about it every other night this week.

She was aware that you liked them long before now, however. Even though you had only ever shown irritation for the two, the way in which you spoke of them and the words you used gave it away that you had some sort of feelings for them other than resentment.

You pout at her, not wanting her to just blurt it out. You were embarrassed with how fast you had fallen for them.

“Alright,” she smirks. “I’ll be down in the common room for a bit. Have fun and try not to make a mess. We did just tidy this up earlier.” Hermione smiles.

“Got it, mum. No messes.” You chuckle, still blushing furiously. The twins smile at you, biting their lips to keep from laughing.

You were so playful. They hadn’t ever seen this side of you and godrick was it amazing.

“Oh Merlin. I’ll be back.” She sighs, rolling her eyes at you, but smiling nonetheless. She truly is excited to see you happy again. You were happy with Will, but he had been slowly draining you. Watching you with the twins was like watching a new person.

“No hurry, ‘mione. Maybe you can get some quality time in with your guy.” You suggest, smiling at her. You knew she liked Ron, but he was beyond oblivious to any advancement she tried to make.

“Doubtful, but maybe.” She chuckles, leaving the room shortly after.

“Hi, guys.” You smile, finally taking a seat at the end of your bed, facing them.

“You’re quite a playful minx, aren’t you?” Fred chuckles, smiling at you.

“Sometimes.” You chuckle, smiling a bit.

“Merlin you’re gorgeous.” He smiles, studying you as you blush.

You being a flustered mess was one of the twins’ favourite sights. They loved that they could make you blush with a simple compliment or look or even a light touch.

“Stop staring at me!” You chuckle, embarrassed by the two of them admiring you.

Trying to get out of their gazes you get up and head over to the bathroom to grab the  bruise healing balm you’ve been applying.

You knew they were flirty people to begin with having seen how easily they throw around flirty comments and it was no different when it came to you. They had always made flirty comments and complimented you, but you were positive they were just teasing you so you always got really annoyed.

Since apologizing and becoming friends, however, whenever they would sneak flirty comments or compliments into your conversations you would blush madly and become all flustered. You so badly wanted their words to be sincere but you truly doubted they were. They were flirts and couldn’t possibly like you as you did them, right?

“What else are you supposed to do with a masterpiece?” George asks and you gape.

“Godrick, you two are such flirts. No wonder the entire female student body fawn over you.” You chuckle, still furiously blushing as you get back on the bed.

You wait for one of them to lift their shirt so you could start working on getting the balm on them. Anything to divert your attention from their words.

“We’ve only got eyes for you though.” Fred winks and you groan, rolling your eyes but smiling.

“Come on, now. You’re here so I can see how you’re healing, not to flirt with me.”

“Who says we’re not here to do both?” He asks, looking over to his brother who only smiles at you.

“Just get your shirt up, Fred.”

He smirks and winks at you before doing as you ask.

You look over his sides to see that he’s pretty much healed. The bruises have faded really well.

“Like what you see, princess?” He asks, smiling, but not seeming to be joking anymore.

“Godrick, you’re unbelievable. I think your preset to flirt no matter the situation, huh?” You ask, smiling as he winks at you.

“Alright, George. You’re turn.”

He smiles and takes his shirt off, stretching his one arm over his head in the pillows so it’s not in you’re way.

“It’s actually looking a lot better tonight, George. For awhile I was wondering if it was helping any.” You admit as you take some balm and smooth it onto his side where he flinches.

“It tickles tonight.” He chuckles. All you can do is shake your head and smile. These boys were beyond adorable.

“I love you.” He whispers after a couple minutes as you’re still applying the balm.

“What?” You ask just as Fred smacks him.

“Fred! Are you seriously trying to bruise him more?” You huff, frowning at the twin who seems to be pouting.

“We were supposed to tell you together.” He huffs.

“Tell me what?”

“That we love you.” He mumbles, not quite looking up at you, too embarrassed to see your face.

You gape at the two of them, not believing that their serious, which is why you start laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Fred pouts.

You continue laughing, shaking your head. You wonder how long they had been thinking about this joke. Did they know you  loved them and wanted to see what you’d do if they said they loved you?

“That’s a really good joke guys. You don’t love me.”

“What do you mean we don’t love you?” Fred asks, looking at you incredulously.

“We’re not joking, y/n.” George frowns.

“Sure you aren’t. You just wanted to see what I’d do, right?” You laugh, shaking your head. They can’t possibly love you. It just doesn’t make sense.

“No. We just really love you.” Fred says, watching you with hurt in his eyes. You can’t really believe this is all a joke, right?

“We have for ages, y/n. We’re just, we’re really bad at showing our feelings.” George adds, watching you as you shake your head, not able to make sense of all of this.

“No. No! I’m sorry, but you guys don’t love me. You-you feel sorry for me. Sorry that I got cheated on, sorry that I got choked, sorry that you had to pull pranks on me nearly everyday for a good two years. You don’t love me. I don’t think you ever could love me.”

You close your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. You don’t need to cry right now, not when they’re playing with you. You don’t need to show them just how weak you are to them.

“You’re absolutely crazy, y/n.” Fred says, his hurt turning to frustration.

Godrick, he has loved you so much and you really think it’s all a joke. How can you possibly think that when they had literally fought for you? They pranked your ex for you to show you that you had no reason to be scared of him anymore. How could you say they didn’t love you?

“Not as crazy as you to think I’d believe this! You really think I’d believe that you two love me when you antagonized me day after day when I clearly wasn’t happy with it. You were purposefully trying to upset me! Then you guys only stop after I break down crying? That’s not love, Freddie.” You hiss, not being able to help the few tears that escape your eyes.

“Y/n, darling, we know you don’t believe us but we really really do love you. We’ve loved you since Merlin knows when.” George tries to intervene, but you don’t care to hear it.

“If you guys loved me then why would you torment me?” You ask completely sincere, tears now flowing down your cheeks.

“Because we’re gits! We don’t know how to handle our emotions when it comes to you! You are so bloody perfect that we really don’t know what to do around you.” Fred shouts.

“We can’t hardly breathe because you take our breathe away every second of the day with either the way you look or some adorable thing you do. We constantly feel like we’ve just finished running a marathon because our hearts are racing so fast and our palms are so sweaty due to how nervous you make us. We feel like we’re going to be sick due to all the butterflies you give us. Good Merlin, y/n, you have us completely wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know!” He finishes, completely aghast that you can’t see it.

You chew on your lip, tears still streaming down your face as you look at the two of them. George had put his shirt back on at some point in all of this and was looking at you in shock yet still upset. It’s like he wanted to pull you into a hug and comfort you, but not doing so in fear of how you’d react.

Fred just looks heartbroken. He’s angry beyond belief, like you’d be scared to encounter him like this in any other setting, but he looked so defeated.

You wanted to believe them. You so desperately wanted to believe that they loved you, but your mind and your heart was telling you that they just couldn’t. Not after what they’ve done to you and what’s happened with Will. You just really can’t believe that anyone could love you.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Fred asks, still upset.

You stay silent as you stare at him. You would love to say something, but you just can’t seem to find anything to say.

“Godrick, y/n. I really can’t understand you sometimes. Here we are standing in front of you proclaiming our love to you and you refuse to believe it. As much as I’d love to be able to call you mine, if you can’t realize how deeply in love with you we are, then I can’t hang around waiting for you. It just hurts too damn much.” Fred sighs, shaking his head and leaving your room.

You look to George who’s watching you, wanting to stay here with you to comfort you and just to be with you, but also knowing he should follow his twin to make sure he’s alright.

“I-I should follow him,” he finally says to which you nod, not able to look at him anymore.

“We really do love you, y/n. I hope you can realize that soon.” He sighs, squeezing your hand before going after his brother.

Once the door shuts behind him you let out a sob you’ve been holding back. It hurts so much seeing them leave knowing that their upset with you, but you just can’t accept that they love you. Not right now.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter angst #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfic #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley angst #george weasley fanfic #fred and george weasley x reader #fred and george weasley #fred and george weasley imagine #hp imagine #hp angst #hp fanfic

[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

Trial and Error (Derek x Reader)

A/N: This has been something living in my brain for a while, and I decided to get it out, along with 5 prompts.

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Thank you to @xteenwolfwritingsx and @mymonandsymon for looking this over for me!

Warnings: Some language. As close to smut as I write, (If you squint.) Mostly just fluff, though.

Word count: 1,646

Anon said: “"I'd kill you on the spot if you weren't so nice to look at. Because, full offence, your personality needs a lot of work."”

Anon said: “Can you do 93 & 99 w/ derek hale pls :) thank you!”

(93. “Forget it. You fucking suck.”

99. “Don’t be an asshole. Asshole.”)

Anon said: “Hello! I was wondering if you would be willing to do numbers 8 and 101 with Derek Hale from the the most recent list you have posted? If not it’s okay, thank you ❤️”

(8. “You didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘in the mood’.”

101. “You got a cute butt.”)

Xxx

You’d barely made it into the loft before you were pinned up against the far wall, Derek holding your hands up on either side of your head at the wrists, his grip much tighter than it should be, but not as much as it could be.

“I thought I told you to stay on your side of the city,” he hissed out, face inches from yours, eyes glowing red, and a low growl rumbling in his chest.

His eyebrows knit in confusion at your smirk, his body pressing against yours as you made a halfhearted effort to push you both off the wall.

Rolling your eyes, you let out a breathy chuckle, which only made him cock one eyebrow up in either amusement or disbelief, you weren’t sure.

“What the hell is so funny?” He asked, both his tone and his weight easing up a bit.

His mistake.

“Oh, nothing,” you mused, looking up and away from him for a few seconds before flipping you both around, holding him pinned against the wall in the same position, your own eyes glowing their bright red as he let out an annoyed snarl. “Just thinking about how things can change in an instant….”

The breath was knocked out of you as you once again were pinned to the wall, this time his weight almost fully against you to keep you still. “What do you want?” He ground out through clenched teeth.

You couldn’t help thinking that the two of you would have been great friends if it weren’t for both of you being Alpha’s. Pack rivalry and whatnot overriding much of any chance at getting any closer than you were now, which given your position physically, was actually pretty damn close.

Baby steps.

“I have an idea,” you began after letting out a huff. Resigned to being stuck against the wall, you relaxed a bit, deciding to try and placate the Big Bad Sourwolf instead of poking him with a metaphorical stick, no matter how fun the latter was. “It would save both of our packs a lot of hassle, and probably save some innocent lives, too, come to think of it-”

“No,” he said firmly, his hold relaxing just a bit.

You looked at him in shock. “You haven’t even heard-”

“I said no!” His voice just as firm as before, he pushed off the wall for emphasis, your body relaxing just slightly, and you rubbed your wrists, despite the fact they were already pretty much healed.

“I’m just trying to be a good leader, Derek, offering you peace and my help for both our sakes and our packs, but because of whatever vendetta you have for me, you’re not willing to listen. Well, you know what? Forget it. You fucking suck.”

Stalking toward the loft door, Derek grabbed your elbow firmly and lightly tugged you to face him, making you roll your eyes again. “What, Hale?”

“I know. Look, I’m sorry. I really don’t know what it is I don’t like about you, I just don’t.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet as you fiddled them absently.

Grabbing your shoulders to make you stand still again, you straightened your back and looked him in the eye. It wasn’t the gesture that caught your attention, but the gentleness in it. A new side of Derek Hale had just showed itself, a side you always thought was there, but never got to see, except when he was interacting with his pack.

Very small baby steps.

“But,” he continued pointedly, “I’m willing to put that all aside to listen, for our packs and everyone involved.”

“You’ll really hear me out?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

“I’ll try my hardest.” He smiled a real, genuine smile, and you felt some of the ice crack between you two.

You returned the grin with a small one of your own, before finally saying, “Don’t be an asshole. Asshole.”

Derek laughed, and let go of your shoulders, walking back into the loft, and after a few seconds, you followed him. Looking over his shoulder, he smirked and said, “I’m just trying to be nice.”

You scoffed, then let out a chuckle. "I'd kill you on the spot if you weren't so nice to look at. Because, full offense, your personality needs a lot of work."

Sitting on the couch, he spread his arm out in gesture to the open spot beside him, his own smirk still firmly in place. “So I’ve been told.”

Xxx

Waking up to the wee hours of the morning and a silent loft, you looked around bleary eyed. Once you realized where you were, and who was with you, your eyes went wide.

Laying on the far end of the couch, his legs tangling with yours in the middle at some point while you were both asleep, was Derek, head propped up on the arm of the couch, mouth wide open as a snore escaped him.

You couldn’t contain the giggle from the completely uncharacteristic image of the big bad Hale Alpha, and turned into the couch cushion to smother the sound.

It was only a second later you looked back, but you still jumped as now Derek was looking at you with one eye barely cracked open, his mouth closed in a tight line, but his eyebrow raised in what you now understood was amusement.

Lightly swatting his leg with your own, he said a mock “ow”, but neither of you untangled your legs.

Propping your elbows on the arm of the couch behind you, you glared at him. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not polite to stare?”

You swatted at his legs again, and he did the same, both of you grinning lightly.

“Did the alarm go off or something?” He lazily looked to a box on the wall that must have been some sort of baddie alarm, his hand going to the back of his neck to scratch sleepily. Contented with what he saw, he looked back at you, stilling, hand still on his neck. “What?”

“Why do you assume I woke you on purpose? Why would I put myself in a position to endure even more of your company than I have already had today, which, by the way, is I think more than we have had at once ever?”

He grinned. “You didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘in the mood’.”

You shrugged, smirking right back at him. “You got a cute butt.”

“Why, thank you,” he said cheekily, his grin doing the same.

Batting his legs again lightly, you heard him mutter, “Okay, that’s it,” and you suddenly found yourself pulled toward him, until you were basically straddling him, your wrists once again tightly held in his hands.

“Stop doing that.” His voice was firm, but soft. His eyes searched your face, but for what, you didn’t know.

Digging your knees into his rib cage, just as some sort of retaliation, he groaned softly at the pressure. You leaned down close to his face and whispered, “Make me.”

Suddenly faster than you could blink, your positions had been flipped, him now straddling you, holding you down. “Okay.”

Trying to fight back, you quickly gave up, huffing, much like earlier in the day, looking up at him with a less than enthusiastic look.

Searching your face again with his eyes, he finally landed on your gaze with knit eyebrows.

Raising yours in question, he let go of your wrists, but you left them beside your head, and he sat back on his haunches, your legs still under him.

“I’m trying to figure out what it is about you that drives me so crazy.”

“I have that effect on lots of people,” you said smugly. “I’m awesome like that.”

“That! That’s it.” He pointed at you, and you sat up, elbows once again on the arm of the couch, eyebrows once again raised in confusion. “Yeah, you drive me crazy, but I’m starting to think it’s not because we hate each other or annoy each other-”

“Are you sure? Because you’re kinda driving me insane just a little bit right now-”

He leaned back over you on your perch on the armrest, face closer than it ever had been, and you found yourself staring at his lips. “Am I?”

If it hadn’t been the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice with those last two words did it. Your eyes drifted shut when he finally met you with a kiss, surprisingly soft and tentative given the tension between you two.

But that was just the first one.

Pulling back just enough to look at you one more time, something was exchanged between you without words and you both surged forward in a heated kiss.

Slowly laying back down all the way, your hands briefly in his hair to make sure this never stopped, pulling him with you, his hands grabbed your wrists putting them by your head like before, but this time trailing his fingers lightly from your elbows up to your hands, fingers tangling with yours as he held your hands.

Instead of restricting, his weight now felt warm, and inviting, and the more of it you felt, the more you wanted.

Turning your head to the side, you had a small grin on your face, but it soon turned into a soft gasp as you felt his lips ghosting ever so lightly over your skin, working from your collarbone, up your neck, and to your ear, where he bit the lobe gently.

When he released it after a second, you turned your head to look at him, lips barely touching one another’s, foreheads pressed together, and heavy breaths being shared, almost as if the breath one was breathing out was what the other required to live.

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02 @palaiasaurus64 @shydinosaurcandy @lucyqueenofthestars @c-breanne1999 @l4life @ethereallysimple What’s this?

#derek hale #derek hale imagine #derek hale x reader #derek hale x reader imagine #derek hale x reader insert #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #tw imagine #teen wolf reader insert #teen wolf x reader insert #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fluff #tw fluff #fluff #tw #pack imagine #pack x reader #pack x reader insert #my mind spins stories

[frickenfaded]

--SFW--

This is my first headcanon ever. It's kind of a headcanon anyway.. This is how I think the Feral Boys would react to (f!) Reader getting mad over something stupid while she's on her period.

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Dream

It was about midday and {Y/n} had to force herself to get out of bed to retrieve food. She decided she would get cereal and return straight to her blankets. Once in the quite kitchen, she reached up in a cabinet and grabbed a bowl, however she accidentally set it down way too hard and the brittle glass bowl shattered everywhere.

She was absolutely enraged. All she wanted was a bowl of cereal and *this* is what she gets? It didn't take long after to hear the thomping footsteps of her boyfriend coming down the stairs to see what the commotion was about. {Y/n} stood with her arms crossed, about to make a move for the broom. "Fucking damnit." She cursed, unbelievably mad at the smallest event.

Dream ended up beating {Y/n} to the broom, sweeping up the shards of glass that littered the tile. He was being extremely careful and thinking his words over before speaking. He knew she was in her period, and that meant she gets angered easily and doesn't like being clung onto by anyone during the week. However, he recognized that she still appreciates his presence.

He steps a little closer, giving a small forehead kiss to his girlfriend before resuming the cleaning. "Baby, if you want too, you can lay in my bed while I edit. I'll clean this up and bring you some cereal." He suggested. "How did you know I even wanted cereal?" She asked. "Because, that's normally what you crave." He answered. She thought for a moment before deciding to take him up on his offer. "Thank you, baby." She mutters before heading upstairs.

George

The relationship between {Y/n} and George was still fairly new, this being their third month together. Therefore, he still isn't exactly sure what his girlfriend needs during her special time of the month. However, he's sort of getting the idea. It's just a bit tricky for him to know for sure when she's going through it, because she doesn't tell a soul. She leaves them guessing, taking pride in it even.

But this time was a little different. She was laying down in bed, trying to read the book "Water for Elephants" by Sara Gruen, when the realization struck her that she was currently using her last (pad/tampon/other). She didn't want to leave her bed, much less her house. She angrily closed her book and slammed in down on the nightstand, thinking over her options in her mind.

George just happened to be passing by her door whenever she slammed her book. It startled him a little, but he entered her room nonetheless. Although she heard him come in, she refused to tear her focus away from her thoughts. George knew something was up a couple days ago. The possibility of her monthly happening was a thought, but he wasn't 100% sure.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, walking over to the edge of the bed before sitting down. "No." She immediately answers, crossing her arms over her chest. She still didn't really want to give in that easily, though. She still had her pride, despite her situation. "What happened?" He wondered. "Nothing." She replied, avoiding his careful gaze.

"C'mon, Love, we both know that isn't true." He says, softening his tone of voice. She almost instantly melts into his stare. She huffs out a breath, however desperate to keep her silence. He treads lightly, brushing a strand of messy hair from her face, whilst caressing her cheek in the meantime. She finally gives way, breaking through to him as if a dam just broke. "Fine." She states.

He smiles, knowing he won without asking the question that would set him up for failure. "I'm on my last (pad/tampon/other) and I don't want to leave the house." She explained. George breaks into a small fit of laughter. "Was it really something that simple? That's nothing compared to what I thought was wrong. But I can get you what you need, Love." He says, after narrowly avoiding a harsh glare. "Would you like anything else while I'm gone?" He wonders. "Hm.. Maybe some chocolate... Please." She answers. He nods before giving her a swift kiss.

Sapnap

Sapnap.. Is quite the special case, to say the least. He does n o t pick up on hints very well... Which leaves him very lost and confused when his girlfriend all of the sudden starts acting a lot different than normal and suddenly more distant with him. She didn't exactly mean too, it was just what happens during her period.

He was scared that he did something wrong because of this, but he couldn't come up with a reason why. Did he leave the toilet seat up? Maybe he accidentally ignored her? What if he forgot about something they were supposed to do? Dear God, did he forget their anniversary or her birthday or something? Despite what he thought he did, he wanted to try and "make things right."

He entered her bedroom as she watching a John Mulaney special on Netflix. He stood beside her bed. "Hey, could we play Pokémon together?" He asked. "No. I don't feel like it." She didn't mean to add the annoyed tone to her voice, but she did. She was just annoyed in general. "D-Did I do something wrong?" He asked, scared of her answer. It was then when she realized she was being short with him and distant.

She sighed, knowing she owed him an explanation now. "I'm sorry, Darling. I didn't mean to come across like that. I'm just... cramping really bad today, and I'm really really really craving some ice cream, but I don't want to get up either." She explains, rambling just a little bit. He blushes a little when he realizes what was going on, but he quickly retrieves some ice cream for the both of them, before joining her in bed and finishing the John Mulaney special together.

Karl

Manz is prepared. I'm talking, he's got a secret box in his closet filled with everything she may need, from pads, to tampons, to chocolates, to a heating pad, he has it all. He's so dedicated to making sure he does everything right that he has a period tracker app on his phone to know when she's about to start. Therefore, he knows when he needs to back up and give you some breathing room.

So one day, when his girlfriend got very upset just because her phone died, he knew exactly why. "Do you need absolutely anything? I brought you a chocolate bar." He says when he hears the ruckus from her room. She softens up almost immediately, always touched by the way he knows what to do and say.

"Thank you.. Could you plug my phone up, please?" She asks. He happily jumps on the simple task, despite her charger literally being right beside her. "And maybe... could we cuddle for a little while too?' She wonders. He smiles brightly. "Definitely." He agrees, before slipping in bed with her as they start to watch Hamilton for the third time.

Quackity

Quackity seems to think it's comedy gold whenever his girlfriend gets infuriated by the tiniest things. He was sitting on the couch, watching something on the T.V., while {Y/n} came out of her room for the first time since today. She came to get a snack herself, not wanting to bother her boyfriend much.

But what she failed to notice as she was walking through the Living Room, was the Thanos doll that Quackity completely forgot to pick up earlier. And of course, she stepped on the damned thing. She yelped, almost falling over thanks to the toy. In a fit of rage, she picked the doll up and stomped over to one of the open windows, throwing it as hard as she could into the outside world.

Quackity could not stop laughing from the moment she stepped on the plastic toy, now laughing harder than ever because of it. "Shut up! It's your stupid fucking fault the thing was left there anyway!" She cursed, clearly displeased. He didn't listen, of course. "I-I'm sorry." He said through his laughter. As much as she wanted to stay mad, his laughter was contagious.

She ended up bursting with laughter as well, their voices mixing like milk and honey in the atmosphere. {Y/n} joined Quackity on the couch, laying across his lap as he played with her hair, the two starting to talk about random topics. She always went through a few days on her period where she was just a little more clingy than the others, but Quackity just learned to accept that. He wouldn't say it exactly, but he did actually enjoy it.

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That's it for this one lovelies! As I mentioned, this is indeed my first headcanon ever and actual content post I've posted on Tumblr. Therefore, I hope it wasn't too shabby. I'll get the hang of things soon, but for now, if you'd like to read any other things I've posted, the list is short, because I am pretty new here, but this option is available to you though this link:

My Creations♡

I hope you enjoy your stay here! Requests are always open! ♡♡

#feral boys #feral bois #dream smp #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #karl jacobs #quackity #big q #dreamsmp fluff #dream smp headcannon

[stuckybarton]

One Punch One Kiss

Summary: You find a different option to relieve your stress and the fact that you might just be in love with Bruce Banner. Warning: Profanities. Mild Violence. Slight Angst, Self-Depreciation.  Grammar Errors. Not Beta’d. Characters: Unnamed Female Character x Bruce Banner Words: 3,092 A/N: So this happened. Lol. Masterlist

It been well over months now since you've found yourself in care of the so-called Earth's Mightiest Heroes, The Avengers. It was far from the life you once lived.

The poverty of the slums, where fighting was always the way to survive another day. It was always survival of the fittest for someone like you. One of the many reasons why it took so long for you to intergrade with the team. Your "power" wasn't that much special compared to the rest of the bunch.

You were a mixed martial artist, finally getting out of the bottom of the barrel but a freak accident left your hands, your tool for survival, barely able close into a fist anymore--you can barely even open them back then too. You find yourself mixed with the wrong crowd and after one too many experiments, you've gain this so-called mutation that lets you punch anything effortlessly. But it doesn't come without a price.

When the adrenaline dies down, you are left with an indestructible fist, but the pain was never far behind. Hands that would last the rest of time, but the pain, the burning torturous pain was something you can never get used to. It was better to dip your hands in lava than the excruciating pain. The insistent throbbing on each finger made it hard for you to open your hands, as much as you were capable of opening them. There there are nights were you want nothing more than to end things, end your suffering once and for all.

But out comes one Bruce Banner.

A man that has known about the demons pestering your life. Having to fight his own every single day as he tries to control the big green monster he calls his other self.

He had helped you so much. From physically helping you maintain the pain you had to endure post-mission, helping Tony Stark with designing the perfect gloves that could potentially lessen the pain you had to experience after each mission. Then there was psychological and mental help.

You were never one for meditating. Always using your fist to forget about your problems as much as possible. But without that stress relief, you were left to Bruce's method.

One hour every single day. Whether it was Bruce having a big research or in the middle of a debriefing. They would take time out of their own schedules just for the one hour to bring semblance to their frail state of minds.

Somehow it does work.

In either your room or in Bruce's room. An hour long meditation with nothing but the sound of white noise brings a momentary peace in your mind, while also making you realize something you try so hard to ignore.

You were in love with Bruce.

Madly, deeply, and crazily enough to be in love with the first man to have every taken care of you. You're fucked, that much you have known for yourself since the realization had occurred.

Now you're left with making sure to make as many excuses as you possibly could to avoid Bruce and your daily meditation. Everyone in the compound knew what you were trying to do, but knowing you and knowing how the aloof Bruce Banner could be, they try to mediate the situation without getting themselves too involved.

"What's up, One-Punch Woman." Tony's usual nicknames annoyed you when you first started out, but as time goes by, you just find yourself getting used to it. You got to talk to Peter about letting Tony watch anime. He gets more material from those.

"Today's not the day to piss me off Tony." You muttered.

You had enjoyed the momentary peace inside the training room. With only the resounding echoes of your first against the punching bag, the rapid breathing escaping your lips, and the low hum of the air conditioner. This was your compromise for not joining Bruce with meditating.

"Come on, Rocky." Tony's hand resting on your shoulder angered you. You hated anyone, aside from Bruce, from touching you.

"Get your hands off, Stark."

Your fist continued to collide with the punching bag, but every single time Tony would try to intervene. Either trying to pull you away from the punching bag or pulling the punching bag away from you.

It took all the control out of you to stop yourself from using Tony as your punching bag instead. Every deep breath you took, the resolve was slowly fading away and your hands were now screaming at you to stop pain finally coming in full waves.

"Stark, I am warning you."

"I'd stop if you tell me why you're avoiding Dr. Banner. It's affecting his productivity if I'm being honest."

And that was the straw the finally broke the camel's back. Punching Stark right in the jaw, but his nano-tech was quick to protect him from punch, but the impact left him stuck right through the walls and everything was now on high alert as F.R.I.D.A.Y placed the training room on lockdown.

"I told you to stay the hell away from me, Stark." You spat, now thinking of a way to get the hell out of the training room without anyone, especially the particular man, coming to see that you were falling apart all because of your god damn feelings. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. open the doors." You demand but the AI refused only wanting Tony to give the command.

"The hell is wrong with you Y/N?"

Now coming face to face with an Iron Man suit of Tony, the last thing you would want was to ruin the reputation you have made with the team. The unproblematic one. The one that would rather keep to yourself than argue with anyone on the team.

"You! Get the hell away me." Your voice grew hoarse as the genuine anger begins to manifest.

One punch, that was all it would take to shut the hell out of the man and you could escape the confinements of the training room.

"Open the doors, Tony. I'm not really in the mood to deal with you and the rest of your fucked up group."

"Well, you're part of this group whether you like it or not. So doesn't that make you just as fucked up as we are?" Tony was actually pointing his beam at you and it made it more evident that you didn't belong here in this group as much as Bruce had assured you were.

There would always be this power dynamic that you will never escape from. May it be the slums, the laboratory, or this compound. You will be nothing more than a tool for them to use and to exploit.

"Stand down, Y/N. You're being hysterical."

That was when you finally snapped, running towards him, clenched fist swung but it never met his face, instead a green being came quick to block your hit.

"It's okay, Y/N." Hulk assured--or was it Bruce. You weren't certain anymore.

Eyes trained towards where you fist has landed. Landing right onto his ribs, had he been in his normal body, you were sure you've fracture a few ribs or worse, punctured his lungs or heart in the process.

When your eyes trailed upward, the gentle look on the Hulk's face scared you. Even he was worried about and everything you had been doing for the past few days as you avoided Bruce.

You didn't flinch when his larger hand tried cupping your cheeks, instead nestling more into his touch. You had it bad. But it was enough to calm you down for the moment. Bruce was your peace.

"Breath, Y/N."

Slowly, you see him turn back to his normal self. Never once did his hand leave your own. Both hands now cupping your cheeks as he stared at you.

"Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, never breaking eye contact. You breath, you tried you best to calm the heart you never noticed was beating to fast as you slowed your breathing.

"You got me..."

Indeed you do. He was here, even after the days you've tried ignoring him, avoiding him, and downright pushing him away. You still got him.

"That's all that matters..."

You nod, eyes now stinging with the unshed tears. You were afraid of losing him. You feeling for him that presented itself to you now, you didn't want to lose it. You couldn't depend on anyone else in this compound but him. Your only sanctuary in your state of mind. Your Survival of the Fittest mentality scrambling at this man that would give you the world even if you so much as ask it from him.

The Strongest Avenger, but was the most vulnerable in your presence.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. open the door." Bruce requested as he pulled you to his chest.

With the AI following, you caught glimpse of the mess the Hulk had made through the wall just to get it. Wincing at what Tony would have them to just to pay for the damage of it.

Their journey has been silent. The only sound you could hear, or at least tried to focus on was his heart. The rhythmic calm beats against your ear made you focus on your own breathing until you arrived in his room.

Bare as Bruce's room was, it brought you a calmness of the familiarity it had with you. Not much decorations aside from the diplomas and achievements, one picture still stuck out the most to you in his array of achievements. It was a picture of you and Bruce. It was post-mission in the Quintjet, one bud on each of your ear and you still remembered the two of you were listening to Lofi music at the time. What made the picture so memorable was the sight of the two of you grinning ear to ear while icing your aching hand after going head to head with a colossus from who-knows what planet.

You still remember why the two of your were smiling. There was a bet between Tony and Rhodey that you wouldn't be able to take on the giant and had waged a hundred dollars each because they were just that confident. Yet a minute later, you've just punched the alien once before it run as far away from you as possible. Being owed two hundred dollar and just the bragging right you were having had a smile on your face and Bruce was quick to join along in the merriment of the moment.

"What's wrong, Y/N?"

Returning back to the present, the worry in Bruce's face was still evident but you pulled away, cheeks warm at the realization that the man had been shirtless this entire time and you were leaning on his chest all throughout.

"Nothing." You muttered, now unable to meet his eyes now.

"The hole you've punched Tony into isn't much of a nothing." His words, as agitated as you knew he was being at the moment, was calm.

"Tony is just being annoying." You tried to reason. "He was getting on my nerves and deserves it." You added knowing very well that if it wasn't for Bruce, Tony would more than likely be enduring a concussion or even brain damage at this point.

Just the thought of that happening brought a knot right into your throat making you incapable of swallowing. Had it not been for Bruce, you were sure you would need to pack your backs yet again and leave the compound. God know what the rest of the team would think of you if that happened, or what what they would do to you as retaliation.

"But it's not just because of that." It was as if Bruce can read your thoughts. All he wants now is just confirmation.

"It has nothing to do with you." Lie.

"Then what is it? You've been acting weird for the last few days. You're blowing me off and using every excuse in the book to get away from our meditation and away from me. So this definitely has something to do with me."

You didn't have an answer to him. Fear overcame telling him the truth, making him understand your worries.

"Just say it. Say that the other guy is scaring you and be done with it."

You blinked confused with what he was saying.

"That's not it." You assured, finding the right words was hard.

"THEN WHAT?" As the green tint quickly appeared on his skin just as quick as it disappeared, your adrenaline was still high from the incident in the training room, fist already already ready to defend yourself if he loses control.

Never once did you raise you hand at Bruce. Never once did you face with in your attack stance. But never once did Bruce raise his voice at you. This was affecting him just as much as it did you.

"I'm a monster, Y/N. I know that more than anyone else. All you had to do was say so and be done with it."

"You're not a monster, Bruce. You never were in my eyes."

"Yeah, avoiding me makes it so convincing." he snorts turning his back at you, a shirt already in his grasp. "Just say it, Y/N. I can take it. I'm not a child anymore that can't handle the truth."

Biting your lips, this was worse than you have actually anticipated. You watched Bruce ramble on and on about why he was a monster and why you have every right to avoid him. But that wasn't what truly had you speechless. It was this, this man that was aloof as he was had done nothing but bare his heart of to you. Show he was just pained as you were with this situation you've placed yourself in--placed the two of you in.

Was it still the adrenaline or your stupidity, you really didn't know as you surged towards him, lips mashing against his own. His lips was soft against your own. The taste of coffee and hint of mint. And just like that, the words in Bruce's mouth stopped and he was left just as stunned as your were for what you've done.

"I, I don't--I...I don't hate you, Bruce." you stutter, eyes refusing to meet his own yet again. "It's opposite really."

"Say it, Y/N."

"I love you, Banner." You muttered finally looking at him. "I love you and I know for a fact that you wouldn't want to be seen anywhere near me."

"What?"

"You're you. Smart, Got a good sense of humour. You care about me more than my parents ever did. You're the first person here in the compound that treated me more like a human instead of this asset or experiment."

It was now your turn to ramble on about why you don't deserve him. You knew very well why and whatever reason that would try to oppose those beliefs were quick to be stomped away. That was how your mind works, you don't deserve things, you work hard for anything and everything.

"Y/N close your eyes."

You blinked at  the sudden request, but the smile that now rested on Bruce's face assured you slightly. But knowing him, knowing he would be the last person to hurt you, your eyes finally closed.

In the darkness, you tried to calm you mind. As much as your trusted Bruce, the unknown scared you, the reason behind this situation worried you. to be this vulnerable in front of him, to be this defenceless.

The last thing you would have expected to happen was his lips against you own. Breathless, you open your eyes to see Bruce's own closed as the kiss continued. The gentle hands that had calmed you down in the training room were once again there to calm you don't. Gently you find yourself pulling more into the kiss, aching hands rested on his chest. The calm heart now coming alive against your fingertips.

Pulling away, Bruce opened his eyes, breathless just as you were and the uncertainty of just what happened finally becoming more an more evident. It was just how you would accept it at this point.

"Hope that's clear enough for you." Bruce muttered, now his own eyes refusing to meet your own. "Why you think so low of yourself? You're part of this team because you value civilian's safety more than our safety, more than your own safety that it's sometimes so annoying because I worry about you and your lack of safety."

You blinked, how the hell did this happen. One minute you were both self-deprecating yourselves, then the next minute it was lips and cheesy lines of admiration for one another.

"I'm not perfect. Far from it, but just seeing you avoid me. It makes it so hard for me to ignore my own thoughts. Maybe they were right." Bruce shrugged.

You shook your head, as much as you knew he wouldn't see. He really didn't know his worth, the irony that you yourself couldn't do the same. The smile just couldn't help but finally escape your lips before you head find solitude in his chest. The sound of his beating heart could do nothing but give you a calmness you didn't think you would need in your life.

"Can we start over." You whispered, the dysfunction that was the two of you wasn't ideal and you knew whatever this might end up becoming, it wouldn't be easy. Nothing was ever easy when it comes to the life they were living. But you knew you could make it work.

"What?"

Pulling away from him. You gentle punched his cheek seeing his lack of effort to block it. He knew just as much as you did that you will never hurt him intentionally.

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I love you, Dr. Bruce Robert Banner."

Shaking the man's shaking hand, you smiled as his hands held onto your own tighter and accepting the shake of hand.

"Nice meeting you, Y/N." he started, voice shaky. "My name is Bruce Banner, and I love you too."

With the smile only growing you both of your faces, you leaned once again for a kiss. Things will be alright between the two of you. A few bumps in the road would be a certainty. But you'll work on it. You both will.

"Who do you think Tony would start hounding first about the trashed Training room?" You asked after a second of silence between them.

"My guess is me. Might take a while to live down what just happened."

#Bruce Banner x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner angst #bruce banner one-shot #bruce banner imagine #bruce banner imagines #bruce banner one shot #bruce banner one-shots #bruce banner one shots

[mydramaspace]

Part 3: "Are you really that oblivious?" In which everything floods out into the open.

If you're new here, you can read Part 1 here and Part 2 here! :')

Part 3. Posted on 7 May 2021.

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Sometimes, you feel like your entire life is going to be a series of duck-and-hides from people you know. Because that is what you have been doing ever since you ran out from the cafeteria a week ago when you saw Joo Hyuk looking at you. Min Hyuk has been trying to contact you everyday, but you've ignored every single one of his texts and calls, and have hardly left your room. Yes, it is unhealthy to eat only slices of bread for breakfast, lunch and dinner each day but desperate times call for desperate measures and you know for sure there has been no person more desperate than you for a while now. But today, you will have to step out. You will have to brave the world, and confront anything that needs confrontation. But that's okay, you've got a solution for that: headphones, loud music, and power walking. No one would dare approach you if they couldn't see you power walk your way past them. One can only catch you if they see you, haha!

Even as you step out into the street, you know your plan is the stupidest thing you've ever thought of, and you've done many stupid things, including but not limited to thinking fuck meant a variety of fish. You duck your head, put on the most fast-paced music you have and begin your walk of shame to the administrative office to drop off your test results. Walk of shame indeed, your answers on that test will be enough to give your examiner second-hand embarrassment for most of his life.

Your mind must be playing tricks on you because everywhere you look, you keep seeing Joo Hyuk. Or so you think, because it is never actually him. He wears a lot of the same fandom shirts for some game that a lot of boys at your university wear too. Capitalism has really made life difficult for everyone on the planet, and you finally agree with every anti-capitalist argument you've heard till date. Capitalism is making it difficult for you to walk a few meters without flinching every time you see a t-shirt that reminds you of Joo Hyuk. You're so busy keeping an eye out for him, you forget about the other annoying brat who's on your tail. Min Hyuk.

And Min Hyuk grabs your hoodie and drags you all the way to the classroom upstairs. You struggle, throw a tantrum, almost like you're crying for your life because who knows what sort of nonsensical things he's gonna feed into your mind at this point. You resist until he lets you go in front of the classroom, both of you breathing hard, and whack him on his head. Hard. "Ow! That almost makes me regret helping him." Min Hyuk glares at you. "Help? Help who?"

"Why don't you find out genius?" You shoot a dirty look at him and walk into the classroom, only to come to a dead halt. Joo Hyuk is standing there, his back to you, and on the board in front of him, is a graph and many many equations. A laugh strangles its way out of you, and then you're laughing loudly, clutching your stomach. For a moment there you thought, no, you hoped, he was going to confess that he likes you. Foolish foolish thought, Y/n. Min Hyuk must have snitched to him that you're struggling with your Statistics revision, and being the good best friend he is, Joo Hyuk has stepped forward to help.

You are so embarrassed, you want to fling yourself off the cliff that is a few kilometers away from your campus.

Joo Hyuk jumps, startled by your laugh. When his eyes land on you, his entire body relaxes, and you realize how painfully him that gesture is. Well that is what best friends are like around each other right? Completely at ease. That's what your mind is saying, the logical, rational way of thinking. The way that will not end up in you hoping for something more, then being disappointed and then crying yourself to sleep again. But your heart...you heart is saying something else entirely.

"You're here!" It's as if his entire being lights up on seeing your awkward wave and he excitedly grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you to stand in front of the board where all the equations begin. You know, I'm really not in the mood for stats now, of all times. Maybe you should say it out loud. Maybe you should tell him, for once, and safeguard yourself from the hurt you know is going to consume you the minute you realize it's not the confession that your heart is hoping for.

"Joo Hyuk I-" your sentence is cut off when you realize how close Joo Hyuk is standing to you. Your back is almost touching his chest, and you can feel the heat emanating from his gray sweatshirt, smell that ocean-scented detergent he always uses on his clothes, and feel the hairs rising on your hand, your ears going red, and the throbbing of your heart. You can see the smudges of chalk dust all over his face, and the lights overhead sparkle in his eyes like star dust. And his eyes are on you. "You what, Y/n?"

"I-" Words seem to have fled your mind.

"You can tell me later. First, take a look at the board."

"I'm not in the mood for a math lesson, y'know?"

"Okay, but it's not a math lesson."

You cut a quick glance to the board and scoff. There are plus and minus symbols all over the place, and similarity indexes scribbled hastily alongside a graph chart. "Okay fine, it's a stats lesson. But I'm not in the mood for that either."

"Really? Did you take a proper look at the first equation?" You roll your eyes but take a look, curiosity stemming through you. "The mode equation?" You wonder out loud, and Joo Hyuk voices an affirmation, and that's when you feel the warmth spreading all over your arm. You turn sharply, to see his hand over yours, a piece of chalk tucked into your fingers. You look at him, hardly breathing, hardly hoping because these things only happen in fiction. How can this be happening to you? No, he's just helping you out that's all. Nothing more. Nothing-

"Look at it properly, Y/n, please." He guides your hand to the equation, the feel of his rough calloused palm against the back of your hand sending shivers running through you. "See what it says?"

All sense, all coherency, all your English words have deserted you when you most need them. "The what now?" And he laughs looking at your expression, and its a laugh that rumbles through his chest into you like a physical hug of comfort and you want to wallow in it forever, you don't want this moment to ever end. "The formula for the mode of my thoughts."

That snaps you back. The mode of his...thoughts?

"Your thoughts?"

You've never been so grateful that he's taller than you. Because this, standing with him, feels like heaven. And even if he never confesses to you, you'll take the memory of this to your grave, relive it a hundred times in life and even more so in death. So much more that you're determined to be called the ghost of reliving in whichever place all people go to after they die.

Joo Hyuk's laughter gets happier, and you slap your free palm across your mouth, horrified that you said all that out loud. "But, Y/n, I am confessing. Or at least I'm trying to, but you're not cooperating." He grins at you like everything is alright in the world, like he hasn't just dropped a verbal atomic bomb on you just now.

"You're what?"

He pulls you gently to the graph, one hand still enclosed around your hand with the chalk pressing into your palm. You clutch it tighter, almost unable to believe that this is actually happening. "Take a look." he lets go and steps back, and you step back too, almost in reflex, to get a good look.

And your breath leaves you in one breath.

Because on the graph, you see your name multiple times. "Wait, you do know what mode is right?" Joo Hyuk sounds panicked, and you would have smacked him if you weren't so inexplicably happy right now.

"Yes. The element that is repeated the most number of times. So if this is a mode of your thoughts..."

"It means I think of you the most every day of the week, every hour of the day, most of the minutes of the hour, because I do spend some minutes thinking of when to do my laundry sometimes and then I need to think of feeding my dog and I-"

You don't let him finish the sentence and fling yourself at him, enveloping him a tight hug. "You're such a dork." Your voice is all wavy because of the emotions threatening to consume you. Happiness, surprise, happiness, surprise, love. "Is that in a good way or a bad way?"

"What do you think?" You demand, unable to believe how oblivious he's being.

"Well, about 50% of researches online say it's a negative connotation, and the remaining 50 are divided in their results and I don't know which one I believe frankly because most of their data is skewed and their data sets rarely match the published-"

"Oh my god, it's a good thing you dork!" You press your lips to his, effectively silencing him. It takes him a good moment to kiss you back, but when he does, it's enough to make the world slip beneath your feet.

But that's okay because he grabs onto you, and you're very sure you will not be letting go of him too. And in the corner of the board, in the teeniest letters ever possible are the words I see sparks fly, whenever you smile.

xxxxxxxx

A/n: I had the biggest grin on my face while I was writing, cause ahhhhh these two nerds <3

Hope you liked this haha!

#nam joo hyuk #korean actor #adorable dork #nam joo hyuk x reader #reader x nam joo hyuk #fanfic #reader romance #romance #friends to lovers #nam do san #start up #korean drama

[yourfriendlyneighborhoodfanfics]

“The Real Life Mary Jane”

Tom Holland x y/n

Warnings: none, just a bunch of cute fluff. Might take this and run with it if you guys like it enough!

Tom was sitting on his laptop memorizing lines in his room when out of nowhere Harry came rushing in, seemingly out of breath. “Tom! Have you been on Instagram today?” Tom stared dumbfounded before his confusion escalated as Harrison came running in not long after. “Harry, did you show him?” Harry shook his head and jumped in front of Tom on the computer. As he began to protest, Harry shushed him, the urgency in his voice alarming Tom. “N-no, I haven’t been on Instagram, you know I try not to make a habit of it. What’s wrong?”

“Have you heard of Y/N L/N?” Harrison spoke up, grinning from ear to ear. Tom had heard of the up and coming pop star’s name, but he didn’t know anything about you. “Uh, yeah, I guess? Why?” Harry finished his search and stepped out of the way. It was one of your music videos. “What is this about mate, I need to be learning my lines-“

“Just shut up and watch it!” Harry shouted and the two boys huddled around Tom as he clicked the play button. The video started up, it was a catchy song and you looked super cute. He had never even seen you before, but you were more than he expected. However, he wasn’t really sure why he was watching it until Harry spoke up again. “Okay, now pay close attention…” in the video you were sitting on the floor wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt that was way too big for you, and nothing else. Tom smiled to himself, he thought you looked cute in it. “So, she likes Spider-Man?”

“That isn’t the half of it, hang on.” Harry reached over and clicked to another tab he already had pulled up with a different music video. In this one you were lighting your ‘exes’ car on fire, and as you danced around and sang, you grabbed a Spider-Man bumper sticker off the back and put it in your pocket to keep. Harry clicked another tab with another music video, one where you were singing a slower song and in it, you had multiple Amazing Spider-Man comics splayed out on your bed. One by one, Harry showed Tom video after video of you slowly expressing your love for Spider-Man. In some of the music videos it was less obvious, but in some it seemed to be the point. Either way, you had been able to sneak in something to do with Spider-Man into every single one of your videos. The last one Harry pulled up was one where you and a bunch of girls were making ice cream sundaes and you had a pink beanie on with the classic Mary Jane Spider-Man heart on the front.

Harrison kept lightly punching Tom’s shoulder in disbelief and Tom just stared forward. “The media is calling her the ‘real life Mary Jane’!” Harry nearly shouted, Tom switching between the tabs himself. “How have I never heard of her?”

“Well she just released the video with the t-shirt, and that seems to be what blew up overnight. The rest were subtle enough that nobody really put it together.” Harrison explained, grabbing Tom’s phone and looking up your Instagram handle. He handed it back to Tom, and sure enough there you were on the cover of Cosmo, wearing that same Spider-Man t-shirt and the same beanie, the headline reading “New Popstar is the Real Life Mary Jane” and you had a sucker hanging out of your mouth.

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked, expectantly. Tom stared at his phone, unsure of how to proceed. “I mean, do you think I should do something?” The boys stared at him, dumbfounded. “You have to, are you kidding me?” Harry shouted again, knocking Tom upside the head. Harrison added, “Mate she’s gorgeous, and she is being handed to you on a silver platter. This is a golden opportunity, you might as well, right?” Tom sat and thought for a moment before ushering the boys out. “I need a minute to think, okay?” He closed the door behind them and heard the two snickering from outside. “If he doesn’t do something, I will. I could be Peter Parker, right?” You heard Harry mumble and Tom just hollered, “Piss off!” And the two took off laughing.

Tom sat back down on his bed and pulled out his phone. He had been tagged by over 3,000 people to look at your post of the article cover. He must have been really distracted from his phone to not notice today, so he googled your name. As he was scrolling, he found a video of you dated a couple of months back, answering questions for an interview. “So, who would be your celebrity crush?” The interviewer asked. You paused and smiled at the floor before answering, “Well I guess I would have to say Tom Holland. He is about as close to Peter Parker as I will ever get!” You and the interviewer laughed, and he continued, “Yeah, you have said in the past that you are a fan of Spider-Man, when did that start?”

“Honestly, I have loved Spider-Man as long as I can remember. I grew up watching the movies, collecting the comics, tucked under the covers with a flashlight reading them every night.” You giggled again and the interviewer continued. “No kidding! So why not Tobey Maguire? Or Andrew Garfield?” Tom watched as you looked between the camera and the interviewer before landing on the camera. “Well, Tom was Stan Lee’s pick for Spider-Man so, I think that answers that!” The interviewer led the questions elsewhere, and you seemed to answer them all with ease. Tom did notice that you were blushed only when talking about him and that made him blush just as bright.

He pulled your Instagram back up and scrolled through your photos for a while. You seemed like a relatively normal girl, all your posts of new song releases or pictures of your dog. Finally, he clicked the follow button and opened his dms.

-

You were on set for your next music video release, busy getting your make up touched up when your phone kept buzzing in your pocket. You pulled it out, deciding that since you had a few minutes of spare time you would see what was going on. You tried not to spend too much time on your phone while you were on set, still trying to figure out the do’s and don’ts of the industry since you were so new. You glanced down as your phone screen lit up, and you almost dropped it. You tried to shout out to your best friend, but all the wind left your lungs and you just took off running. You called out to the director, “I am gonna need a five-minute break!” And kept running until you collided with your best friend, Grace. “Ow, y/n! What the hell?” You had no words, you just handed your phone to her and kept pinching yourself. “Holy shit. Holy shit!” Grace started shouting, seeing the notification.

Tom Holland (@tomholland2013) has started following you

You collapsed onto the couch and felt a shiver run down your spine. “Calm down! We figured this would happen eventually, right? You weren’t exactly being subtle, and with the new tabloids…” Grace sat next to you but fell silent after a moment. You figured she was just reading it again but after a minute of her not saying anything you looked up. “Well now what, Grace?” Her skin looked pale and she was trying to suppress a smile. “Now, you answer this.”

She handed your phone back to you and you read the dm, and then you read it again, and then you read it out loud because that had to make it real right?

“Do you prefer going by Y/N or Mary Jane?”

You couldn’t describe the feeling coursing through your body, and Grace held onto you to keep you stable. “What are you going to say, girl?” You shook your head for a moment before saying, “I have no idea.” And attempted to type out a response four different times, with feedback from your manager and Grace of course, before landing on, “Usually Y/N, but it’s never too late to pick up a new nickname. How are you?”

You felt like it wasn’t perfect, but it was the best you could come up with in the moment and you sent it. A few minutes passed of you erratically checking your phone before he responded, “I’m doing well, thanks. I was just reading up on this article I found today. Some very interesting things in there. I didn’t know I had such a huge fan.”

You smiled and answered, “I’m sure you have a million fans that love you, I just get to have a voice to talk about it!”

Several minutes passed without a response and you sighed. “Was that too flippant? I just didn’t want to seem like a crazy person or an over obsessed fan.” You asked Grace, who shook her head. “It was fine sweetie, I’m sure he just got caught up doing something.” You nodded, unsure of her reply as the director poked his head in, clearly pissed that you took off. “Can we please get back to filming?” You jumped up, apologizing profusely and followed him back to the set. After about an hour of filming dance scenes and close ups, you were done for the day. You thanked the director and apologized again for leaving him waiting before returning to your dressing room. There you found your phone unattended, and you opened it again to find two missed dms.

“You wouldn’t want to grab dinner sometime this week, would you?”

“Sorry, I hope that wasn’t too forward. If you aren’t interested, I totally understand.”

You could have thrown up right there. You probably would have if you weren’t wearing your new Spider-Man sneakers that you would avoid ever getting dirty. It gave you an idea.

-

Tom checked his phone repeatedly for the next hour, concerned he pushed it too far. “What if it’s a marketing scheme?” He asked his brother who shook his head. “It’s not, Tom. She is probably just busy-“ A notification going off on Tom’s phone brought them all back to reality as he pulled it out and read the message out loud.

“Sorry for the delay, I was caught up filming.” Followed by a picture of what appeared to be Spider-Man themed tennis shoes. A few seconds later another message popped up, “I would love to get dinner with you. How does Thursday sound?” Tom threw his fist in the air triumphantly before texting you back. He couldn’t wait to meet you, and you two spent the rest of the night planning your dinner. Harry stood up and patted Tom on the back saying, “I can just hear the tabloids now. ‘Extra! Extra! Read all about it!’” They both laughed and Tom shoved him playfully before he returned to his phone. Today turned out much different than either of you expected, but Tom felt like he had something really good on his hands. A notification popped on his phone from Jon Watts, the director of the Spider-Man movies.

“Hey kid, I need you to reach out to Y/N L/N. We want to get her to make a song for SM3.”

“No worries, way ahead of you.”

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