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scienceoftheidiot · 10 months

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Find the word tag

My words were : sun, clouds, wind, rain, lightning

Your words if you want to do it : leaves, field, wildflowers, scent, dirt (I like the idea of keeping a theme !)

I am keeping the OPEN TAG.

Please anyone who sees this and write, do it and tag me !!! We don't have to be mutuals or have interacted. It's fun to read what people get with those words !!!

Stole this from @residentdormouse 's open tag 😝 I am mostly working on two (Royai) fics these days, "dismissed Roy" and "1923", but one other has popped there and once I'm done with these two absolute monsters which are going to be SO. LONG. I'll probably go back to this one. Everything is riddled with pain and angst and hurt/comfort there, I'm sorry, I guess that's all I do (continued under the cut).

I want to state that I will NOT tag anything I write as "whump" even if I tend to really torture poor Roy and sometimes Riza too, mostly because for me whump isn't what I do. To me the point of pushing them so low through angst or pain and often both is most of all to have them overcome or deal with whatever, one way or another, together or alone, by themselves. Even if I can be awful there is always some kind of hope for them in the horizon, and that hope is the point, the fact that they carry on, too.

Here, end of disclaimer. 😅

Sun - WIP codename "Stop the cavalry"

The drop of sweat finally fell into her eye, blurring her vision, the salt stinging. She wiped it quickly. And indeed, as she was moving ever so slightly, Mustang, as far away as he was, seemed to catch the reflection of the sun on her lense. He squinted, his gaze looking for her in the distance, and she could see him frown. Hawkeye swore under her breath. She couldn't allow herself to be sloppy. Mustang, his eyes finally stopping still on her, or rather on where he knew she was, blinked slowly, then returned to his own duty.

As the war progressed, she had spied on him this way less and less. Over the months, she had seen his face harden, the glint in his eyes fade and disappear, while the circles under them grew darker. It was… a little scary.

Riza wondered if, could someone else see her the way she could see Mustang through her sight, she would look the same. Aged. An old, tired soul in a body that had not yet reached its prime. More than probably. But that was a price she was willing to pay. She told herself so every morning.

Clouds - WIP codename "dismissed Roy"

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the window, sir. The sunset is especially beautiful this evening.”

Roy walks to the window, guided by Hawkeye's voice. He likes that she doesn’t shy away from telling him when she’s got interesting things to look at. He’s noticed a reticence in most people. It’s irritating.

Hawkeye isn’t. He knows he is sometimes irritating to her, but she’s never to him. Never has been.

“Oh. How so?”

“Hum.”

He’s close enough now to hear her breath, and his shoulder brushes against hers.

“I’m not very lyrical, so, I’ll try, sir, but I’m not sure it’d do it justice.”

“Try anyway, Lieutenant. Please,” he smiles. He was politely curious, but now he’s also interested in the way she’s going to tell him.

“The sky is this very pale blue, almost a light turquoise, but really bright. There’s big, long clouds… their underside is lit by the sun, and that makes them bright pink, when you can see the top is already in the dark, making them a striking dark purple against that bright sky. It’s really such a show of colours… I haven’t seen one like that in a while.”

There's a short silence, during which Roy's memories stir.

“I think I remember one. When I was at your place, actually.”

Hawkeye hums again. She sounds pensive.

“Yes. I think I remember some like that in the East, indeed. We had the most beautiful sunsets, from home.”

“I’m glad they still can be beautiful.” On a whim, he lets his hand climb up her shoulder. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Wind - WIP codename "dismissed Roy" (lots of this one since it's now over 50K. Arghh)

No matter that their little party was out of uniform, they stayed soldiers, even Roy, and they kept silent as they walked further in, while the bigger part of the escort stayed outside, the number of footsteps echoing on close walls reducing to half a dozen pairs. He had not needed Falman to precise they were getting inside – it was logical, and before they did he could already feel the wind had disappeared. Half a minute later, the warmth of the sun was replaced by a coolness that made Roy happy he'd kept his coat on.

The town hall felt empty. Roy couldn't really pinpoint what told him so – the cold, the faintly stale smell of dry dust and slowly decaying furniture, the sounds that echoed, hollow, being only from them and from nothing that was already inside. Falman didn't tell him anything about this, and yet it struck him so powerfully he felt empty himself. An old ghost walking ruins of his own doing. Even if this one had not been specifically his.

Doors squealed on rusty hinges and they stepped from the corridor into a bigger room. Or at least something that sounded different. It was probably set under the half collapsed dome Falman had described earlier, for Roy's hair was suddenly ruffled by a gust of warm wind and the sun was back on his skin, heating the dark coat on his shoulders.

"You'll excuse us for the state of our meeting room. Someone dropped a bomb on the amphitheater." Scar's voice drew away, his footsteps seemingly inaudible.

Rain - WIP codename "Stop the cavalry"

"Private Hawkeye !"

The incredulous bark came from a very known voice, this time. Luckily for the soldier, she didn't startle, she didn't think. In an almost too quick to be seen gesture, she stored her gun back in her holster, turned around, and clicked her heels in a salute.

"Major Mustang, sir!"

"What the hell, Hawkeye ?" Now Mustang’s tone was furious, and not one bit incredulous anymore.

"Sir, she -"

"Didn't ask you, private." Mustang gave the darkest of his looks to the soldiers. "Any of you harmed ?"

"No sir, but -"

"Then you better go back to your side of the camp. Now."

The soldiers exchanged a look, and seemed to decide that following the Flame Alchemist's order was the safest option.

"Yes. Sir."

They too, clicked their heels, and left. Rather quickly.

"With me, Hawkeye."

This didn't warrant any answer.

She followed him in the maze of tents, her gaze fixated on the back of his head, in the raven black of his hair. He didn't turn around even once. Finally, he slipped his head into a tent that was slightly remote from the others, and gestured for her to follow.

"It's empty. Come in."

It was a storage unit. Piles of ammunition and explosives in wooden boxes were stacked under the fabric roof, protected from a rain that would never come. She entered. There were still no thoughts in her mind.

Lightning - WIP codename "1923" (lucky me !!! That's the only occurrence of it and I wrote it YESTERDAY)

Roy carefully gets rid of the cigarette's butt on the table – at least the smoke hides the smell of the ointments and rubbing alcohol and his own sweat that fill this room constantly – and dozes off, turned to the window. His eyes close over the occasional flashes of blue in the angry skies.

As long as he's fully awake.

Clash of thunder. They're onto them. Roy startles. He needs to find shelter, and ensure the safety of his men.

Roy's pulled back into reality by a searing, mind wiping pain in his side.

And the steel grip of a hand over his mouth.

He's still dreaming. That's a boche, who snaked in their trench, a knife in his hand, ready to gut him and slaughter his –

Roy opens his eyes wide and another flash of lightning shows him it's not a German soldier but a tall, square man, with a bushy light brown beard, his blue eyes gleaming. There's no knife in his hand, but a pillow. It takes a while for him to understand what the intruder says, through his thick accent and the blood thumping in Roy's ears.

#find the word tag #writing #wip #royai #open tag

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vanilla-slugcat · 1 month

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BEFORE YOU FOLLOW!

This is a blog dedicated to collecting, showcasing and studying the wonderful geographical and architectural wonders of Rain World Downpour - aka, rooms and regions!

Due to this, expect uploads to be room and gameplay oriented and based solely on the rooms and regions of Rain World Downpour. I will not upload or reblog content that does not relate to Rain World's geography. ( <- lie, I don't have a personal tumblr account yet)

Also, expect a huge amount of spam in your inbox if you do follow. I upload images in large batches and this may or may not completely flood your inbox.

Thank you for understanding, and have a nice stay.

Tag Directories under cut.

Room Names

If you are not familiar with the rain world code-naming system, each room in rain world has its own codename which corresponds to it.

The room names can be viewed when opening up devtools in-game. They consist of a REGION_ROOMNAME structure, where the codename for the region and codename for the room are seperated with an underscore. For example, the room currently showcased on this post is named DM_WALL04. "DM" is the region codename (directly; depths of moon, region name; looks to the moon) and WALL04 is the room name itself.

For the sake of brevity, and because many vanilla regions share the same room codenames (take SI_A21 and HI_A21 for instance), I will be tagging the room and region names in full.

If you'd like to find a certain room on my blog, use the in-blog search function and search for a room on the interactive map [created by Henpemaz, ported by Dual].

Region Codenames

Here is a reference list of all region codenames.

red = base game

purple = downpour

#codename [literal meaning, in-game name]

#su [suburban, outskirts]

#hi [heavy industrial, industrial complex]

#gw [garbage wastes]

#sl [shoreline]

#sh [shadow urban, shaded citadel]

#uw [underhang + wall, the exterior]

#ss [superstructure, five pebbles]

#cc [chimney canopy]

#si [sky islands]

#vs [voided subterranean, pipeyard]

#lf [linear farms, farm arrays]

#ds [drainage system]

#sb [subterranean]

#oe [outer expanse]

#lc [lost city, metropolis]

#rm [rotten maw, the rot]

#lm [looks to the moon, waterfront facility]

#dm [depths of moon, looks to the moon]

#ms [moon superstructure, submerged superstructure]

#ug [undergrowth]

#cl [collapse, silent construct]

#hr [hell region, rubicon]

#dm #DM_WALL04

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ardenssolis · 1 month

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@puckish-rogue said (inbox):

"A'ight, hear me out on this amazing idea I just had. You're gonna have me running around looking into the competition and doing all kinds of naughty shit, right? Well, as most spy movies have taught me, we're gonna need code names. Y'know, something to keep our identities hidden on the off chance some bastard is listening in on us. I was thinkin' yours needs to be something cool. Something that really encapsulates who you are as a person. Big Money Hustler? Maybe. We'll get back to that. Me, though? Oh, that's obvious. I'm gonna be Purple Rain."

CODENAMES? HE SUPPOSED THAT was sound advice, although he did wonder if Boss just wanted to have codenames in general, and was also using this as an excuse for such. Regardless, the thought was somewhat amusing in its own way, especially considering the name that the other man had deemed to give himself. ❝Purple Rain? Ahahaha, I suppose that matches you well enough.❞ He smirked, looking at the other’s clothing for a moment, taking in that dark shade of purple. Sometimes Boss said the most entertaining of things – and out of nowhere at that. Honestly, he never knew what was going to pass that man’s lips. ❝Whoever decides to listen in on conversations will certainly be left reeling as soon as they hear your codename being uttered. As for myself, Gold Card works well enough. After all…❞ he trailed off, tugging out his credit card from his pocket, ❝this card might as well be just that.❞

#[PLS HE LAUGHED FDSFDSFSD #but he agrees that codenames would be good (and fun)]#puckishrogue #;v: modernity #;;au (modern)#answered #;;inbox

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

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Title: What the Heart Wants

Pairings: Young!Shota Aizawa x GN!Reader

Summary: You were a young hero in training, living in the United States. And when your high school offered an exchange internship to one of the hero agencies in Japan, you were first in line. But the last thing you expected was to fall for another of their young hopefuls.

Notes: Story features the other dumbigos as well. It’s implied that this story is just the reader reminiscing, and that the reader and Aizawa have been in an established relationship ever since.

Warnings: Mention of blood and a little battle damage, otherwise just superpowered teenage friends being pretty wholesome honestly.

My Masterlist

——————————

The first time you’d ever met the now pro hero Eraser Head, he hadn’t been much more than another teenager in over their head so much like yourself.

Back then you hadn’t known how to say no to anything either. While most of your classmates had been taking the typical internship offers from your state’s local hero agencies, you’d heard about a new exchange program abroad. And of course you’d jumped at the opportunity, anything to set yourself even one hair’s edge above the amazing competition.

Your Japanese had been terrible too honestly, so much so that you’d almost been afraid to speak for fear of ridicule once you reached Japan.

Luckily, the hero you were assigned to, Stunner Man was fluent in several languages. And his quirk was something akin to fireworks from his body at will, like a human flash bang. It greatly complimented your own quirk of consuming light energy to then expel it as energy blasts as well.

For the first few jobs together, you’d likely grown too confident and complacent because of this. It was all too easy to replace your own energy by drawing in that light from his fireworks. Sometimes to the point that all around you went dark, before then expelling the energy again as concentrated blasts from your hands to help incapacitate the small time villains you both ran across.

But then had come that rainy night and reports of a much stronger villain taking out actual teams of heroes somewhere downtown. Multiple agencies had responded to this of course, but your hero had been adamant about you staying behind. This was real danger he said, and it would be unheroic to let your desire for success blind you to your own inexperience. You would be a liability in the main battle, and you could be just as valuable assisting firemen and police in their efforts to evacuate the nearby apartment buildings instead.

Of course you were obedient, and so there you’d been, running up the stairs and through the corridors as fire alarms blared and people cried in panic in these high rise buildings. You’d put on your best act of confidence, directing the scared people to exits, asking them to mind their neighbors. You told them not to push, to please help those that were elderly or disabled, and that it would all be all right. Surely it would be because so many pro heroes were now on the job.

But just as you were almost done clearing the last floor at the top of that building, a terrible crash had sounded from far down the hall. Maybe debris breaking through from the nearby battle? You were cautious enough though to make sure that the police and firemen safely exited this floor entirely with the last civilians before you went to investigate.

You would make sure no one was left behind, that no one was hurt or trapped. But as you’d rounded the corner, in a glitter of broken glass and blood, that was where you’d first seen Shota Aizawa…Eraser Head.

He was only a sidekick you thought immediately though just from his age, so similar to your own. Yet he was already trying to get back to his feet even as you called out to him. The hole he’d come through in the large windows and the cracked wall around it were letting the rain now blow fiercely inside.

“Get back!” He’d yelled right back to you in Japanese however. As if he wasn’t losing blood all over the floor as you did pause brief enough to hear an odd humming sound outside even over the rain.

It was reflex of course. He hadn’t even been facing you, but the way he tensed you’d assumed what was going to happen only that fraction of a second before it did. Before whatever villain had just thrown him through this window attacked again, you’d used your energy reserves to make a shield of light between Shota and the broken windows and wall.

The blast that came through the hole had likely been intended to finish the boy. As it was, it still exploded violently against your force field, the recoil sending pain through your arms as you’d dug your boots into the floor beneath you as much as you could just to keep from being knocked backwards with the force.

You wouldn’t be able to take another direct strike like that without gathering more energy. And in the confusion as the blast did dissipate, you ran forward, grabbing the boy by the wrist. “Come on!”

You only saw the surprise in his reddened eyes for just a moment, the first time he’d really looked at you. His shaggy black hair was dripping on you from the rain before you both ran together.

“It’s going to get dark. Just hold on to me and trust me!” You spoke as you pulled your goggles down from off your head to cover your eyes in mid run. The goggles were a support item developed especially for you. In darkness you could switch between night-vision and thermal imaging to allow you to still see when your opponents and even teammates could not. And when you used your light abilities to discharge energy again, the opacity of the lenses darkened instantly to keep you from being blinded by the brightness of your own quirk as well.

As you both ran, you activated your quirk to draw energy from the artificial lighting in the hallway. True to your word, the whole hall became almost pitch black in short time. Your skin darkening to an inhuman shade as well as you used your power, a color akin to the lightless void now around you as you led him to a stairwell in the center of the building.

“Will the villain follow us in?” You asked as you closed the door, but making sure not to absorb all the light of the stairwell as well as you could still hear people making their way down to evacuate below. You knew you couldn’t stay in this place long. You had to protect these people you had already been trying to rescue as well. But information was always crucial to having a better chance at victory, and you needed anything that the boy could tell you quickly now.

As you lifted your goggles back up in the light of the stairwell, you were already trying to assess his wounds as well. But when you realized he was just staring at you, you finally made eye contact with him again just before he spoke.

“He’s more powerful out in the open.” The boy said. “So I don’t think he’ll follow us inside yet. But you’re assuming I’m a hero?” He sounded somewhat surprised? But the way he was looking you over, he was also trying to discern your quirk even in his own confusion.

“You told me to get back when I found you in the hallway, even though you were hurt.” You saw now that most of the blood was coming from his lower abdomen. A puncture wound maybe? “Who else would worry about others even when being attacked themselves?”

You saw his eyes widen a little at the sort of compliment, but you kept on. “And I’m sorry if I’m hard to understand. My name is (Y/N). I’m from the United States. Part of the intern exchange. I’m working for Stunner Man right now.”

“I can understand you.” He admitted. Though still looking at you in that odd way. “My name is Shota Aizawa.” He paused, seeming a little less confident, before he admitted his nickname. “Codename Eraser Head. I’m interning from the UA with His Purple Highness.”

“Oh,” You said, impressed truthfully, as that school’s hero course was obviously world renowned. But from the quizzical look you couldn’t help but show at his codename, he clearly had already discerned your next question.

He answered before you could ask, but even as he did you could tell he was already steeling himself for your disappointment. “I can erase others’ quirks just by looking at them.”

“You can…what?” You stared helplessly, for a moment almost forgetting your training to always be cool and collected as you tried to fathom what on earth this boy could really mean.

But he just stared back at you, was he that surprised at your reaction?

When he said nothing more, you had to shake away your shock to press further. “I’m sorry. This might be the language barrier again, but I need you to explain that to me please.”

Hero work could lead to unexpected team up situations at any time. And if this was to be one of those times, you both needed to know what you would be dealing with.

He frowned slightly, like he was having to talk more about himself than he was comfortable with. But he did comply. “If I activate my quirk while someone is in my direct line of sight, it inactivates theirs. But I can only do it for so long. Once I blink, or the line of sight is broken, their powers will come back.”

Silence hung between you for one long moment after his admission, and you could sense the tangible unease building in him.

You didn’t mean to make him jump either when you just blurted out. “That’s amazing!”

You still didn’t yell, but it was loud enough to be unexpected. But you couldn’t help it. You’d never heard of such a quirk. How could anyone be so powerful to make someone else quirkless just by looking at them!?

And why the hell did he look so self conscious about this? “You can’t be this modest. How are you not believing me that this is amazing!? I bet you only got thrown in here then because the rain obscured your vision, right!?” Your voice was quickening with your excitement. Your strategies to victory also readily multiplying in your brain. You could make a shield of light to push away the rain and Shota could look at the villain to make them helpless, then you could take them out with a subsequent light blast!

“My quirk has no offensive merit.” He deadpanned.

“Not every quirk has to!” You retorted, but maybe yourself now finally starting to understand a hint to his self conscious nature. “There are always multiple ways to win! Don’t they teach you that at UA?”

“We need to get moving,” He grumbled still in resistance to this subject. “People could be being killed out there.”

He wasn’t wrong you knew, as you nodded. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to gather information.” Which fair was fair as you tried to keep your own explanation as straight forward as you could.

“As you saw, my quirk is that I can absorb visible light energy. It doesn’t matter what kind. I darken everything as I absorb the light around me. I can store it inside myself, then discharge it when I’m ready, to make force fields for defense…or light blasts for offense or distraction to blind opponents.” Like everyone though, there was always still a catch as you continued. “But the weakness is that once I’ve discharged what I have, I’m tapped out until I can absorb more light. Which, at night in a rainstorm like this…there’s not much to be had.”

He was mostly stone faced as he listened to you though. But there was an analytic sharpness to his eyes, like you were inputting information into a human calculator before abruptly he tried to walk back away from you as if to continue up the stairs.

“I have a plan then,” He announced quietly, his back already to you again.

As much as you somehow believed him already though, you grabbed his hand before he could get much farther. “And whatever that plan is, we still won’t be much help to anyone if you faint from blood loss.”

It was obvious he was someone not used to being touched, you could tell that from the instant way he stilled and looked back at you.

But you didn’t weaken at the stare, only offering him a slight smile. “I’ve been trained in emergency first aid as well. There are first aid kits all through this stairway.” You’d passed them on the way up. “I’ll be quick, alright?”

————————————

The logical side of him must have won out that night in that stairwell. He’d known you were right about at least stopping his bleeding. But that was the real beginning you thought. This odd relationship that would keep its hold on you both for so many years to come.

Him, still so skinny then and self conscious, quiet and awkward as he’d sat on one of the stairs, holding his shirt up so you could clean and disinfect the wound just above his belt while you kneeled in front of him. Luckily the injury was not as deep as it could have been. Just too wide to close or clot on its own as you’d wrapped his abdomen with the appropriate bandages after cleaning out the debris.

And you kept your word, you still weren’t negligent of your duty as a hero in training even then. You didn’t waste any time at all, being as quick and efficient as you could while working on him. But even if all your training told you to also keep your mind on the mission at hand, you’d still felt that warmth in you.

The intimacy was practical, professional. But it still had its effect as you’d run your fingers across his abdomen to finish securing the bandage. You felt him tremble just for the slightest moment, and then it was over. His shirt was back down and he was standing again.

He’d only muttered a quick “Thank you,” as you’d both headed for the roof to execute his plan.

And still only being teenagers then, the clumsiness of your yelling and waving to attract the villain’s attention again would be something you’d both have been embarrassed about now. But at the time, you’d really both done rather well considering your low experience levels.

That villain of course hadn’t been the only villain that night. The main heroes had had their hands full with the other, stronger one at the heart of downtown. This one had been more like the sidekick really, just trying to keep on the outskirts to run interference and keep even more heroes from joining the fray for his boss.

He’d picked off Shota earlier he thought, so he was easy to get worked up when he realized Aizawa was now back for more.

But that villain had drawn his power from the difference of electrical charges in the air. Obviously then at an even greater advantage over the two of you with the thunderstorm above. But the trick had only been avoiding his electrical blasts, but drawing the light energy from them enough times to eventually surprise him with a big enough blast in return.

There’d been a few miscues of course, as well as you using your shielding to protect Shota all the while trying not to get hit either before you could finally land that big enough return hit to stun the villain. Then Shota binding him up in his scarf like weapon and removing the enemy’s quirk long enough to deliver a decisive knockout kick to the villain’s head.

It was your first ever victory as a team.

—————————————

And it’d been a bit of a whirlwind afterward. The congratulations and acknowledgement from your respective heroes for the small, but positive role you had both played of course. But more personally for you, you had owed so much to one of Shota’s best friends you had met immediately in the hustle and bustle afterward.

Oboro Shirakumo, otherwise known as Loud Cloud had been there immediately, ecstatic to hear the story of Shota’s and your success. His extroverted and effervescent personality such a direct opposite to Aizawa’s quiet nature. But Oboro had been the one seemingly so excited to learn you were from the United States as well.

He’d insisted that he, Shota, and their fellow UA student and other best friend, Hizashi Yamada (codename Present Mic) show you the real young hero life in Japan before you would leave again in the coming weeks.

Without Oboro’s intervention, there was likely no way otherwise you would have gotten to see the shy Aizawa so many times again after that night.

As a group the four of you had gone to malls, out to eat, and to see the touristy sights you likely never would have gone to alone. They didn’t even make fun of your bad Japanese, well not seriously anyway. Hizashi did a few times, but in a way that had you laughing with him as he teasingly walked you through a few pronunciations you’d butchered yet again.

On your last night in Japan, you’d been feeling a little sad really though as you’d wished you had gotten to speak to Shota a little more one on one. Even though he’d accompanied you all on your excursions together in those few weeks, you still had noticed how little he really talked and how often he seemed to always be looking away from you.

In the end you just had to think you were being silly for the way you’d felt in the stairwell with him briefly that night and how often you’d thought of him ever since. You’d probably never see him again you knew.

That night though you’d all gone to a park together that met the beach and ocean. Oboro was insistent that you needed to see the view of the sea there before you flew back to the United States the next morning.

Oboro had made one of his clouds, taking just the two of you up high into the air. As Shota and Hizashi still on the ground grew smaller and smaller, you did look away to the horizon and the starlit ocean beyond. It was beautiful of course.

But what Oboro said next, made you forget all about that view entirely.

“He likes you you know. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.” The blue haired boy said as if it was as simple a truth as saying the sun would come up tomorrow.

Your head turned immediately, just to see Oboro smiling at you in an almost conspiring way. “And you feel the same don’t you?” He asked you. “You look at him the same way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me!” You blurted, stupidly protesting as if your stomach wasn’t already trying to tie itself into a knot.

But Oboro just laughed, that genuine, happy one you’d heard from him so many times already. “Well he knows what to do with his eyes doesn’t he? He has practice. Of course he doesn’t let you catch him staring!”

So many emotions ran through you at once then. Embarrassment at your naivety, sadness that you still had to be leaving the country regardless, shock that this could even be true, and….frustration that you would just be being told now!?

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Oboro. Why would you even tell me this now!?” You asked somewhat desperately, but still keeping your voice down in your escalating panic.

He raised his hands innocently, yet unafraid of you either way. “Hizashi and I have been encouraging him as much as we could to speak up, but Shota is like those stories where an unstoppable force meets an immovable object…but in this story both are Shota!”

You stared, the absurdity only mounting at his words.

He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed then. “He’s quite stubborn is what I mean? And he says it’s pointless because you’ll be thousands of miles away. And I said that’s what phones, email, and video calling are for! Of course conversation is not one of his better skills…”

“Oh, man” You sighed, yet trying to think in your nervousness. “Did he send you to tell me all this? Or does he even know we’re having this conversation right now?”

The boy just shook his head. “He didn’t tell me to, and I didn’t ask his permission, no. He would have only told me not to. But sometimes heroes have to do what heroes have to do, right?” A kind look overtook his face again. “I want to see him smile sometime. He actually has a nice smile you know. I think I’ve seen it all of twice,” Oboro joked.

And it was true, it’s not like Shota was cruel or anything. But he didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh. It was like he was always afraid to perhaps. You weren’t really sure yet. You hadn’t known him long enough. But surely Oboro and Hizashi had. You should at least be able to trust that they had made a correct assessment of their friend’s feelings.

“Well…” You hesitated. “If I told him I wanted to stay in contact…do you think he’d actually call or write me?” You looked at Oboro imploringly, unsure if it would hurt more to try this and be rejected later anyway if you still never heard from him again.

“I can only promise you that we’ll try to keep him from screwing up if it’s only his fear that’s holding him back. We all have to overcome fear in one way or another if we’re going to be pros one day.” He smirked then, before looking a little more boastful. “You know, when Shota, Hizashi, and I graduate, we’re going to start our own hero agency. I’m sure by then if you wanted to come and do some more work in Japan, we could make a space for you too. I’d be a bad manager to turn down foreign talent you know.”

He did seem so sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’ll talk to Shota. But, whatever happens, thank you for trying to help either way.”

Oboro gave an exaggerated thumbs up with, what honestly you were guessing was his best imitation of an All Might type grin. “Of course! Plus Ultra! Always!”

———————————

It was something how quickly Oboro and Hizashi got themselves out of sight, now just you and Shota on the beach together. Yet you suspected they may still be in earshot somewhere in the distance. No doubt painfully curious of how this would go and silently cheering their best friend on.

At first you were afraid that Shota was angry actually, the way he’d visibly bristled, shooting his friends’ quite unhappy stares before they’d left as he fully realized what was about to happen.

But he didn’t ignore you, nor did he look away from you this time as you got closer to hopefully speak a little more privately. “I’m sorry if this is…weird.” You started awkwardly. “But I don’t think you should be too hard on your friends either. It’s obvious they really care about you.”

Your foot was kind of shifting in the sand. Nervousness still flowing freely as you just kept on. “But I’d still like to hear it from you…if you’re wanting to keep in touch. If you want to get to know me better, I’d like that…so…um-” Ah, this would be awful at any time, but stumbling over words you’d only recently learned made it all the worse. “So is it true, Shota? Do you want to keep talking after I’m back home…maybe I can come back again though…I’d like to see you again…I really would.”

He was silent at first, but he was clearly listening. Intently, as if analyzing your every movement, your every word.

But it was painful how long you had to wait for a response. Surely it wasn’t really as long as it felt though before he finally responded. His voice surprisingly even, almost emotionless?

“You’ll be a successful hero if you keep to your studies and training. I find it unlikely that you wouldn’t be able to start at any agency of your choosing in the United States once you graduate.”

A huge compliment to be sure, as you stared at him in surprise. But what did that have to do with the subject at hand? Was he trying to avoid your questioning entirely?

Yet his eyebrows lowered before you could interrupt as he kept on. “So I don’t understand why you would ever want to come back to Japan longterm where your reputation would have to be built back up again just to get equivalent job offers to what you could attain already in the US. The one instance with capturing the villain at that apartment complex isn’t enough for top placement at the agencies here in Japan. Especially without UA accreditation on your record. You would be putting yourself at a disadvantage to be here. It would be a mistake for your career.”

You could swear you almost heard a groan from somewhere in the distance. If you’d put your goggles on now, you were sure you’d probably see Oboro and Hizashi hanging on every word, wherever they were hiding to eavesdrop in the dark.

But your brain was also quite busy trying to digest the most words you’d ever heard from Shota at one time. Was this his excuse to reject you more lightly? To say he was only thinking of your career?

Of course he was under no obligation to feel anything for you. You knew there were certainly those with more powerful or interesting quirks than your own, or people more physically attractive. You weren’t anything amazing in your own mind compared to all the potential superstars you interacted with on a daily basis back home.

Yet if he didn’t feel how you did, you wanted to hear it outright instead of buried in a confusing way like this, and you couldn’t help but admit so then. “So you think I shouldn’t ever want to date you because it could make me spend too much time in Japan and not become as famous as I could have been otherwise? Nice that you assume working at a top tier agency is the only thing I would care about for my future….”

Perhaps you did come across a little harsher than you intended, but the way his normally tired looking eyes suddenly widened in shock had you realizing you had definitely brought some sort of emotion out of him at last with those words.

“You…wanted to…date me?” He uttered the words as if he never would have expected that combination of syllables to ever leave his mouth.

Well, you never would have been so forward if you didn’t feel he forced your hand with that strange insinuation of saying your personal choices should all be tied to a need for future fame and fortune.

You put one hand on your hip, trying not to sound as dumb as he was making you feel in this moment. “Well, not like tomorrow or anything. We’d need to get to know each other some more of course. But yes, I thought about it a lot these last few weeks. But if you didn’t like me like that, then friends is fine. I was hoping that was what we were going to talk about here. If you…liked me like that or not.”

Oh Lord, was this high school like it should be or was this elementary playground kind of drama? You didn’t have enough experience to be any more adult about this. But it was a yes or no type of question wasn’t it? Either he felt some sort of interest and attraction like you did, or he didn’t. You just needed to know.

“I…think you’re talented. And capable.” He said, like it was taking so much just to do this.

It was maddening somehow though. Could he not just say he felt nothing if that was the case? Was he so afraid of hurting your feelings? But honestly, he didn’t seem the type to ever mince words either. “Shota…” You tried. “You know you don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings. All you have to say is that you’re not interested. I’m not some delicate flower.”

Yet, you were starting to feel guilty yourself. Maybe this was all wrong, trying to force him out of his comfort zone too much. You should just take a hint right?

When he still said nothing more, your stomach finally sank as you stepped back from him a little again. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know the truth, so I didn’t have to worry wondering later. If I’m not your type that’s okay. I appreciate you taking the time to try and talk to me like this.”

Oboro must have been wrong. That was all it could be. His friends had seen something that wasn’t there, and then pushed it this far in a sincere, but misguided attempt to help their friend.

But the let down still hurt. In the span of a short time, Oboro had gotten your hopes up and then they’d crashed down again. You’d been able to admit your feelings to Shota, just for it to end up as one sided.

Or so you thought.

You started to walk away, not wanting to be further embarrassed if the disappointment in your face had really started to show.

But you froze as soon as you felt his shockingly quick hand grab around your wrist. The memory of you doing the same to him in the apartment complex flashed through your mind.

“I didn’t say you weren’t my type…not that I’ve had a type before.” He spoke, but not in his usual even tone as you looked back at him.

And that was likely the very first time you’d ever seen a little bit of fear in his expression. He was still holding your wrist tightly, but it was like he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to express whatever it was that he was really thinking.

“Eraser really is that bad at this! Just run with it, (Y/N)!” Hizashi’s voice boomed in the distance even if he was only partially using his quirk. The vibration startling you both as Shota immediately shot a death glare in that direction, his hair levitating as he activated his quirk as if trying to lock on to Present Mic even in the dark.

And you couldn’t help it then, slipping your wrist out of Shota’s grip at his distraction, but just as quickly clasping your hand warmly around his own instead as you used your quirk to absorb some of the ambient starlight. It created a dark spot on the beach between the two of you and the others, just enough that Oboro and Hizashi would no longer be able to see. Though Shota would still be able to see you as you chose to take a risk, leaning in enough to kiss his pale cheek.

His hair fell back down at that very personal touch, the red glow also leaving his eyes as he looked back to you.

But you couldn’t read him then. You weren’t sure at all what would happen.

Yet he was still human wasn’t he? Even as stoic and calculating of a person as you’d ever met, he was still human, and still young then with that touch of recklessness you all had deep down.

And when you felt his lips touch yours not long afterward, it was as clumsy as could be expected for teenagers. But you didn’t care at all as you easily returned the kiss.

You knew immediately then that you would be coming back to Japan as soon as you could. Your goal was still to be a pro hero, but it didn’t really matter where.

A true hero’s spirit came from the heart. And if your heart ended up in Japan…who were you to tell it no?

———————————

(End for now. ❤️ I will likely write more of this pairing, but not sure of how soon. Thank you for reading!)

#shota aizawa #shouta aizawa #shota aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x you #shota aizawa x you #shouta x reader #eraser head #shouta x you #eraserhead #shouta x y/n #eraser head x reader #eraser head x you #my hero fanfic #my hero x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero imagines

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josiecarioca · 3 years

Text

“So good it hurts”

Kinktober, kinna?

This was a weird one because it just kinna refused to be written, to the point it’s open ended, because I’m legit stuck at the ending...So it’s more like a vignette of sorts, I guess. (Unless I expand it for AO3, I don’t know)

Anyway, for the first request of this month was made @snapewrld to whom I owe apologies in advance for how sketchy and unpolished this is, but I’m planning to return to it, eventually

Contains: pegging, praise kink, mild dirty talk and trigger warning for Severus insecurities

Taggng my usual tag team: @arabellafiggypudding @the-witches-son @hummingbird-flying-in-the-rain @artisticreptilequeen @viper-official @be-zoar @violet-knox @mafagafobebum @marvelschriss @codename-thedoctor @zealouspickleeggdragon @green-oasis @drawnfromthedead @snapescapades @serosvit @snapecentric @hbprincealice @lilythemadqueen @paracosim @oliverlandomens @sleepysnapesnake @snapeysister @alwyssnpe @thatawfulsnapeboy @rachelprince15 @dementedlollipop @tavsianus @latitsoso @5lazarus

“I can't” Severus sighed, crumbling into a boneless pile of weary, quivering muscle and overheated skin. His head fell back onto the pile of pillows in an awkward, somewhat uncomfortable position, but he didn't care. He didn't care one bit. His limbs tingled deliciously and all he wanted was to lay there and just...be. He looked out the window with the corner of his eye. It was almost dusk, the sky was a deep shade of purple outside and the late summer heat was rising from the streets below, from the roofs of the houses all around, thick and humid, filling the room.

“We've only just begun, love.” Evelyn rasped, leaning over him, her hair falling around his shoulders as her lips barely brushed his.

Severus took in the warmth of her breath, the scent of laveder and clean sweat, her weight pushing him down into the mattress, her thighs on each side of him, pining him down. Severus ran his hands across the expanse of her buttocks upwards to her back, feeling the flesh under the flushed hotness of the skin.

“If I keep giving you free reign like that, you're just going to kill me one of these days eventually...” he smirked

“Oh, yes...such wanton, abject cruelty on my part, to torment you so...” she laughed, nipping at his lower lip. “Now, now...we had a deal, didn't we?”

“I guess I didn't take into account that I'm no match for your stamina when I agreed to it...”

“Do you want to stop?”

“I'm a man of my word.”

That was the deal. She decided what to do, and he'd just take it. Complete and utter surrender, and nothing less than that. Severus would never say it outloud, of course, but the concept was devastatingly exciting. Just to be entirely at her mercy for a whole afternoon, fo how long he could possibly last, until he could take it no more. It surely helped that Evelyn just knew wxactly what to do and how to do it to make him last excruciatingly long. Just bring him to the edge and back, over and over again, gently and ruthlessly at the same time. Let him fall over the abyss a couple times then start it all over again and again.

She knew how to make Severus into her plaything, and how to make him love every second of it and beg for more.

“Good to know, because I'm far from done.”

“And what eles would like to do to me, o heartless mistress?” he let out, laughing.

“You want to know what I'd like to do to you? Well, let me tell you...What I want to do is fuck you into oblivion...”

“Well, isn't that always in the menu? If anything I'm surprised you haven't done it yet, we've been at this for a while now.”

“Yes, but I do believe I have you awfully spoiled. I should make you work for it.”

“Do...elaborate.”

Evelyn laughed. That low, raspy laugh, that reverberated right at the back of her throat. That laugh. Whenever he heard that laugh, Severus knew she was up to no good and he was in for a bumpy ride.

“I...want...you” she leaned in, nibbling on his earlobe “to ride my strap. Is that elaborate enough?”

“Now, that's...something.” Severus chuckled. “I rather fear it wouldn't be the most visually arounsing spectacle, however.”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“I don't think I can ride a cock as enticingly as you, to be honest.”

“You really don't have any idea of how you look when you´re so far gone into pleasure you forget yourself? Because I do.”

Her legs wrapped around his, like a snake coiled around its prey. And Severus wondered if there had ever been more willing prey than him at that moment. He closed his eyes and relaxed into it, letting her voice lull him into complete defenselesness.

“Always so stoic, so guarded...But not to me. Not when I have you in my hands to do whatever I want. Not then. The way it makes me feel, to see a man like you crumble, undone, raw with pleasure, and knowing it's me who's doing it to you.”

“I'm pretty confident you get to see that almost daily.”

“This is different. You know it's different. You know the thrill of it. You know how powerful you feel when you fuck me into submission. But for you it's easy. You know I don't resist it. You know how easy that comes to me. But it's not so easy for you to let go, now is it? That's why I love it. When you do open yourself up entirely and just let me ruin you. Because we know how much it costs you, we know how deep you fall.”

“Fuck, why are you like this?”

Severus cock was hard just listening to her.

“Is that a yes? Will you do this for me? ”

When had he said 'no' to anything she asked?

…

Severus knew she wanted him to relax, to open up and just be comfortable...but it felt so much like torture. It wasn't until Evelyn that he truly understood the meaning of the expression “so good it hurts”. Because it hurt, deliciously so, to be spread so thin, worn down to bare nerves.

His thighs quivered, buckled as he tried to keep them apart.

“Remember to breathe, love.” She rasped, sinking her teeth on the back of his neck.

“Not so easy when you´re three fingers deep up in my arse.” he huffed.

“You´ll thank me later.” he could feel her chuckle hot on his back.

It felt like pure electricity went up up his spine coming from the when she hit that spot. Then came the frustration as she pulled back, scissoring her fingers to open him up.

“We don't want you to go too fast, my prince.”

“Fuck...”

“As a matter of fact...”

…

Yes, Severus was sure of it now. There was no way he could possibly go greacefully about it. There was no way wouldn't be a complete mess doing this. And he couldn't care less about how exposed, how vulnerable he looked. As much as he tried to hide from other people's gaze, as much as it bothered him to have anybody else see him, even if he spent his whole life hiding behind black robes, trying to make himself as close to invisible as possible, trying to turn into a shadow and avoid those eyes, the gaze of those eyes that mocked him, exposed him at his lowest, at his weakest...But when it was her looking at him with those golden-brown eyes, nothing else mattered. He could be vulnerable, exposed, naked before her eyes. Why would he shy away from her when she could so easily gaze into his very soul, and take possession of him entirely, body and mind and just love everything that he was?

Severus felt himself open up, the pressure filling him, slowly, aided by the force of gravity. He felt unthetered as he fucked himself down on her strap. Whenever they did this, he had some grounding, she gave him grounding, pressing his down on the bed, holding him around his chest. This was different. It was freefalling.

“You´re taking it so well, love.” she rasped as Severus inhaled sharply, full to the hilt. He was only vaguely aware of her nails lightly running over his chest, sending a hot chill along the skin. “Let yourself go...”

There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to anchor him...except for her eyes and her voice. Her eyes watching him, taking in the the sight of him slowly unravelling, her voice reassunring him, making him feel so good it hurt.

#Snapedom #lemonade #NSFT #Kinktober?#severus snape #evelyn black #Severus x Evelyn #severus x oc

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shyrose57 · 3 years

Note

I found your au where Dream is Tubbo’s protective brother and everyone thinks Tubbo’s evil. Do you have any head cannons for that? Cause it’s amazing.

Here ya go.

Tubbo and Enderboo first became friends a bit after Dream started making him the main contact with their allies. It was raining when he was meant to leave after getting his orders, so Tubbo invited him to stick around for awhile, and they ended up playing a game.

Tubbo and Dream are both deer hybrids.

Puffy took them in temporarily when they were younger, but it wasn't long before Dream packed them up and left again, as he was prone to do. She's under the impression that Tubbo is dead, thanks to Dream.

Enderboo's codename for Tubbo is Honeybee, which he refers to him as in all the notes and stuff. Ranboo doesn't know who this Honeybee is, but if he works with Dream like the notes imply, then he's definitely not a good person.

Not even the Dream Team have a true idea of Tubbo's age. The siblings lied when they first met them, and never revealed it, so they also think he's older, but not to everyone else's extent. They're under the impression he's just one or two years younger than Dream.

Punz suspects that his other employer may be a bit younger than he's been told, but wasn't able to pursue this suspicion before everything went down and he got wrapped up in the Egg's influence.

Tubbo wasn't really allowed to have pets after everything started, with his brother insisting neither of them have any unnecessary attachments. After Enderboo found out, he started taking one of his own pets with him so Tubbo could play with them.

His new residence is actually very nice looking. His cabin is pretty comfortable, he's built some stables and farms, and other neat stuff.

With all the freedom, Enderboo has wasted no time in helping him gather a little menagerie of his own.

Purpled and Tommy met Tubbo once, without his mask. They were wandering around and stumbled into him. Dream came out of nowhere to drag him off before they could talk long, so they assumed he wasn't suppose to be there. It's quite the surprise when they realize who he is.

Tubbo is teaching Michael to ice skate, and garden.

#A Cry Muffled By Porcelain AU #dream smp #dream smp au #tubbo #ranboo #purpled

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ask-iamnotanalicorn · 3 years

Photo

The Crystal War Timeline

Equestria had already been stunned by the return of Nightmare Moon - learning that one character of myth and legend was real, was the sister of Celestia herself, proved a powerful blow to the nation. Their princess was in a period of mourning after the re-banishment of her sister, and uncertainty crept across the land.

When the Crystal Empire returned, bringing with it living shadows and mind-controlled armies, that shock was compounded twofold.

But shock gave way to determination. Princess Celestia rose from her grief. The ponies of Equestria rallied. Peaceful ways of life had to give way to sacrifice for the good of the nation.

At first, there was concern among the alicornis imitato; where could they serve? A few felt capable of joining the call for volunteer fighters, but found themselves rejected. Too handicapped magically. Too great a distraction. Too high a personal risk if they were targeted for their alicorn appearance; too great a chance the few with cult followings would accidentally cause dissension and disobedience in the ranks.

Then Celestia called them in. Each one of the twelve, and their families, escorted to the castle in Canterlot under guard. For their safety, she assured them. They would bear no suspicion, they would not be harmed, and their loved ones were welcome to the same protection unless they wished to help the cause in some other capacity. And the AIs trusted her, for hadn’t Princess Celestia always made an effort to get to know each AI, to befriend them, to demonstrate to them her friendship and wish for their good?

None were aware of the ulterior motive behind this special consideration. True, keeping them safe, keeping them under a watchful eye, was a wise tactical move. But in truth, Princess Celestia had need of something else they had power over - power none of them realized was theirs:

The Guardians.

With each AI safely protected in the castle, the Guardians were now available. Twelve of the most skilled, elite agents in Her Royal Service. Twelve ponies picked for their patience, their decision-making, their stealth, and their fighting skills. Twelve ponies who had proven themselves not only strong and capable, but compassionate and rational - ponies with the rare skillset required for competently watching over, protecting - and, if need be, stopping - another pony in secret, for decades on end. And never once be found out, or require gratitude, for their service.

She had a special mission for them, if they agreed. They did. And so the Guardians gathered, trusting their charges, their foremost responsibility, to the Princess’s care.

There had been a Crystal Heart once, she told them in the secret meeting chamber. The Crystal Ponies had once powered and protected their city with its strong enchantment - an enchantment fueled by their love for one another. It had been a beacon of hope and light, a physical manifestation of the King’s love for his creatures. And Sombra had stolen it from them, filling the void left behind with his malice and lust for power.

He could not have broken it, she was certain. It must be hidden in the castle. And if they could find it... reactivate it... free the crystal ponies from their enslavement... the war would end, and no more innocent lives, lives utterly overshadowed by Sombra’s wicked hubris or laid down to defend Equestria’s freedom, would be lost.

The plan might not work. It might be too dangerous. It might be a fool’s errand.

But there was no group of ponies, Celestia felt sure, who could be more well entrusted to such a task.

-----

Welcome, one and all, to this special What If? series of “I Am Not An Alicorn!”

This has been a LONG time in the works. I initially started brainstorming this project back in January with Reversalmushroom, as his Patreon reward for supporting me under the Resplendent Royalty tier. He asked if his comic reward could be used to give a glimpse of what life would have been like for Salespitch & Co in the seven alternate timelines created by Starlight Glimmer in the Season 5 Finale, The Cutie Re-Mark. As you can tell from the time gap, it took me quite a while to get it done, and now I’m very excited to show you all the result!

I am quite pleased Reversal wanted this for his reward, and also for his commissioning of Panel 7 - as you may or may not know, there were seven timelines, but the Patreon reward only allows for up to two pages of comic, and I could only satisfactorily fit six of these panels onto those pages. So he commissioned the seventh one out of his own pocket (and lemme tell ya, I REALLY like that one :D) Thank you again for your patronage, Reversal, and I’m glad you have been happy with the results so far!

The descriptions I’ve added are not part of the original reward; I just really like adding lore, and thought ya’ll would enjoy some further elaboration of what’s going on in each timeline. It’s not a full story, but hopefully gives you enough fun details to imagine how things might have gone. I know I have fun with that kind of thing. :D

There will be a long post at the end with all of the timeline art cards together and links back to these description posts, but I hope you will enjoy the next seven weeks with me as we explore these different What Ifs! Also, feel free to send additional questions in about each timeline; I might answer a few of them during the week.

(And remember: no matter how dark or catastrophic things may seem... there is always hope.)

Some Fun Facts About The Crystal War Timeline/Art:

- All of Sales’ family is safe and well in this timeline. Pitch Black is the only one going into danger (and I assure you, he doesn’t die; the mission, while not without some serious roadblocks, is successful.)

- Sales feels a little cooped up at the castle, but Celestia has people who try to give all the AIs ways to put their talents to good use, and he ends up making some solid connections with the ponies of the Department of Equestrian Commerce. He actually has some suggestions that help streamline the war effort supply lines.

- All of the AIs in the upper half have appeared in the comic before! Some are from the MLP show, others (like the little red foal) are made up by me, and Willow Resin (the blue and blonde mare talking to Sales) was the winning entry for my Alicornis Imitato contest, created by @johndoestudios!

- The yellow AI is based off the show glitch of Lemon Hearts that made her into an alicorn, and the sunglasses guy is obviously Neon Lights, but while this is NOT Lemon Hearts and I made a new cutie mark for her lookalike, Neon Lights is still Neon Lights. I figure he just hides his wings under his vest when he’s working with Coluratura’s shows. Also, that purple tail is one of the VERY obvious on-screen “alicorns” in the episode where Rainbow Dash goes to Las Pegasus (named Purple Rain by me).

- The ponies with Pitch Black and Celestia aren’t all named yet, but I like them all, and I named the green guy Strawberry Spice.

- The blue pegasus Guardian ended up looking so much like Agent Windigo that I decided he is her twin brother. Their real names are Storm Front and Spring Frost. I haven’t decided a codename for Frost yet, but all the top-level special agents have codenames based on dangerous creatures or constructs (i.e. Black Knight, Windigo, Phoenix, Golem, Manticore, Hydra, Chimera, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, Siren, etc.) Kinda too bad his sister stole the ice monster already, I bet she ribs him about that. XD

Hope you’re all well and taking time to relax and appreciate the little joys in life! They’re still out there, I promise. :) And let me know if anyone has any prayer requests! Jesus is still Lord, and He’s never surprised no matter what craziness we run into!

~River Babble

Next Week: Changeling Times

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vicecityhq · 3 years

Photo

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: flickering neon lights, the sound of static, retro video games. With a slight resemblance to HAN JISUNG of/the STRAY KIDS.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Nam Jaejin ALIAS: Crypto Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Earth Age: 21 Date of Birth: January 31st, 2000 Gender: Male Preferred Pronouns: He/him, they/them Species: Cyborg Occupation: Bookkeeper of the Howlers, university student, hacker Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Tan Eye color: Brown, with a blue/purple tint at times Scars: Surgery scars where his enhancements have been added; in his right arm and chest area. Piercings: Right eyebrow, both earlobes Tattoos: When he is not actively using his enhancements, the mechanical arm silhouette on his right arm resembles a tattoo. (x) Hair color: Currently black with white highlights. Abnormalities: Added technological right arm and metallic elements to the right side of his chest. these enhancements affect most of his body/internal system as well (namely his lungs). he has human brains, but they are affected by the technorganic physiology as well. Horns/ wings/ etc: none Transformed form: His technological arm mostly looks like a tattoo to someone who doesn’t know any better. While actively using his abilities, his right arm and chest begin to glow with a blue/purple light and resemble more of a robotic arm/chest. This glow might affect his eyes as well.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: Raised Catholic, later turned atheist SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: Korean (native, dialectal at times), English (mostly fluent), Latin (basics) SECRETS: He has been behind a lot of major hackings towards the government/other significant parties during the last few years. Jaejin will usually attempt to blend in with “normal” humans and civilians, trying to hide both his cyborg-ness as well as his gang affiliation. SAVVIES: Technology, computer science, hacking, mathematics, video games, planning Powers & Abilities: Technorganic physiology, technology manipulation Traits: + quick-witted - aloof Aesthetics: Flickering neon lights, the sound of static, retro video games

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: January 31st, 2000

Date of Death: -

Crime Record: Multiple hackings against many different significant figures/parties, as well as countless smaller hackings. Involvement in gang activities, mostly relating to fundings. He hasn’t been found guilty for any of these crimes yet, but he is also aware that his record might not stay clean forever.

Background/Biography:

Born to a wealthy upper-class family in Busan during a cold January, Jaejin was, at first, anything like most kids. He had a younger sister. He had loving parents (albeit ones who had their expectations raised sky-high from the very beginning). And he had a few people around him he could even call friends. The kid was a little shy, a little nerdy, but nothing short of pure and kind towards the ones he cared about. His childhood was a little uneventful, but a happy one regardless.

Jaejin was nearing the age of ten when the unfortunate accident occurred. It was a dark October evening, heavy rain making it nearly impossible to see clearly. Jaejin was returning home from a friend’s house, hurrying down the street as the rain continued to increase. The kid decided to cross the street, thinking of the Nintendo Gameboy console waiting for him at home. The sound of brakes screeching against the wet asphalt made him halt where he stood. It was all blinding light and the loud howling of a truck’s horn before everything went black.

Jaejin barely survived the hit, perhaps by some miracle. What didn’t survive was the majority of his right arm. Most of his chest was looking quite vile too, having endured a hit that no human tissue really could. Some of his organs, namely his lungs, were damaged nearly beyond repair. He was barely breathing, only making it with the help of the beeping machines of the hospital. Jaejin’s parents, shocked and shaken up by the whole thing, quickly began to pull strings and search for methods for him to make it. It was a question of any means at that point. A decision that they would perhaps come to regret later.

The boy was taken to a private clinic that specialized in cybernetic surgeries. It was supposed to be just about repairing the parts of him that no longer worked as well as life required. But Jaejin’s surgeon was a charismatic man of science, and was able to convince the higher class family that some small enhancements to his body wouldn’t hurt. The Nam family was eminently very unaware of the lengths that some cybernetic surgeons went in the name of science and test-runs. So when Jaejin awoke some twenty hours later, he was no longer the same boy at all.

It wasn’t evident, at first. But over the years it became apparent that something had shifted after the surgery. The once very warm boy became aloof, often struggling to empathize with people. In turn he became intelligent in a way he necessarily wasn’t before. Jaejin's emotions weren’t completely shut-off by any means. He felt things, sometimes even strongly, but not always in the way others expected him to. And the boy was ashamed and alone with his thoughts. It wasn’t until years later, during his high school years, that Jaejin discovered the things that he was actually capable of. Accessing and controlling different technological components became something Jaejin got kicks out of, a different kind of excitement filling him for the first time after the enhancement surgery. And so what if hacking things was illegal? It enabled Jaejin to have control and power. It enabled him to have pride in himself.

After high school, once Jaejin had already enrolled in university to study computer engineering, an acquaintance approached him after a mathematics class. Even at first glance the young man could tell that the things he was about to be told were not something he could tell anyone else. He was asked to follow the man to a place he would later know to be the Howler’s headquarters. His skills and savvies were something they took interest in. And though Jaejin was nothing short of unsure about the offer, he figured he could stay around for a while. Even if only to help the gang with their poor money management skills out of pure curiosity.

So that was what Jaejin became – a gifted, witty student by day, and a hacker and gang member by night. He had gone by the codename Crypto even before affiliating himself with the Howlers, so it was natural that he also used that alias in his gang endeavors. Jaejin, having taken distance from his family a long time ago, was surprisingly willing to be included in a gang of all things. Maybe it was the things the gang did and provided him with that gave him a sort of thrill and excitement otherwise lacking in his life. Or maybe being a part of a group made him feel a little bit more human again.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

Jaejin was, for the lack of a better word, in quite a robotic state.

Again, it wasn’t that the man didn't feel anything at the question. Sure he did: he felt annoyance at the fact that he had to be sitting there, in the police station, when he could be tackling his microcomputer architecture project due in a few days. But Jin also knew that it wasn’t really the typical emotion to be feeling while being questioned by an officer. Especially not if you were innocent (and he was, technically speaking).

“It all happened so fast”, he said instead. He was trying to summon some feelings of shock and maybe even sorrow. Jaejin knew those to be the typical feelings of a civilian witnessing a gunfight, after all. Except in this case it was more of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time, not so much the fact that he hadn’t seen it before. It had been people from the Howlers, though; a fight against some other gang members (for reasons the man frankly didn’t know). And Jaejin had just happened to be there as the police cars arrived with sirens howling.

He wasn’t going to say any of that though. Jaejin wasn’t about to snitch on his gang members, not if he had nothing to fear. And as far as he knew, none of the scouts involved had actually been caught. The police had nothing on the situation. So he continued to speak in a manner that, in hindsight, was probably too calm for someone who didn’t know anything. This might come and bite him back at some point. “All I know that there were people in black, many of them. I didn’t really see their faces, probably a gang or something. Suddenly there was a loud noise of gunfire and that’s the part where I ran to the back of the warehouse.” Out of nowhere, Jaejin felt actual emotions surging to the surface. “I was... afraid”, he whispers in a small voice, “I didn’t want to get hurt. To die.”

Except it wasn’t really his own life he was afraid for. Jaejin found himself back in the situation, the same emotions rushing through him. He was afraid for them. For his own gang members. For better or for worse, the people who accepted him when no one else had. For the first time in a long time, Jaejin was afraid of losing someone (not that he would admit it out loud, though).

#vcaccepted #vchowler #han jisung #stray kids #krp #finally got another bot boy ;-;#@david

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bettabythesea · 5 years

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Some references for the main magi team for my original story, Magical Moxie! They are (appropriately) named Team Moxie and are lead by the energetic Lorelei Keranen.

Short(ish) and very informal profiles under the readmore!

Name: Lorelei Keranen

Pronouns: She/Her

DOB (Star Sign): July 4th (Cancer)

Age: 18

Group: Team Moxie

Theme Color: Red

Transformation Trinket: Star-shaped sunglasses

Transformation Phrase: “Spark, lend me power!”

Abilities: Gains super strength, defense, and agility when powered up. Able to control sparkling, firework-like flames. She can shoot little bursts of it from the tips of her fingers and her heels (not unlike how Shadow the Hedgehog uses his shoes to skate and hover). She can also summon dual pistol-like flareguns that shoot much larger and long-reaching firework-like projectiles.

Personality Traits: Outgoing, charismatic, brimming with optimism, bubbly, fun loving, good-natured, strong willed, reliable, loyal, brave, sentimental, acts before she thinks sometimes, creatively-minded, puts on a bravado when she is insecure as she does not want people to see her ever waver, idealist, the kind of person who names everything (names roadtrips, named her phone, tries to give everyone on Team Moxie a codename)

Likes/Interests: Magical girls/magi, glitter aesthetic, cherry flavored sweets, carnivals, roller coasters and flat rides, fighting monsters, teaching and mentoring others, casually using her magic (like… using her finger as a tiny flashlight or doing cool tricks with her flare pistols), being able to impress people, cheesy romantic movies, color guard, staying up late, bright colors, making mix CDs for literally every occasion

Dislikes: Dull and minimalist colors, tedium, sour flavors, marshmallow textures, uncomfortably quiet settings (like an office where the only sound is the ticking of a clock), wet socks, bugs (especially spiders), being somehow prevented from stepping in to help somebody, being doubted or rejected

-----

Name: Elodie Nomura

Pronouns: She/Her

DOB (Star Sign): September 25th (Libra)

Age: 16

Group: Team Moxie

Theme Color: Purple

Transformation Trinket: Her vocal chords

Transformation Phrase: “Voice, lend me power!”

Abilities: Gains super strength, defense, and agility when powered up. Is able to convert soundwaves into steel and other material- most commonly utilizes this to create cutlasses to use in combat. Occasionally can send out a sound pulse, which stuns everyone in a certain radius and has a tendency to break glass.

Personality Traits: Responsible, hardworking and diligent, sweet, respectful (especially of those she sees as her superiors: like her senior magi, her teachers, her coach, etc), Remembers slights against her and is capable of holding a grudge, sometimes judgemental, gets extremely nervous sometimes, enthusiastic, the kind of person who sings in the shower, kindhearted, protective, consciously optimistic, somewhat socially anxious (especially in situations where she lacks a script), worrisome

Likes/Interests:Music, singing, show choir, cheesy romance/magical girl manga, being by the sea, dolphins and whales (especially orcas), pop and light rock music from the 70’s-90’s (her favorite band ever is the band ABBA), doing “typical teen things” like...hanging out at the mall, sailing, ship watching at the harbor, sharing meals with loved ones, strawberry and taro flavored desserts, being able to help other people

Dislikes: Disorganization, overly loud places, loneliness, feeling like she failed or disappointed someone, hatefulness, bitter flavors, feeling like she’s missing out on something, unclear/vague/open-ended answers, not having enough to do

----

Name: Arlo Bernacki

Pronouns: He/Him

DOB (Star Sign): July 30th (Leo)

Age: 16

Group: Team Moxie

Theme Color: Orange

Transformation Trinket: His star-shaped silver keychain

Transformation Phrase: "Star, lend me power!"

Abilities: Gains super strength, defense, and agility when powered up. Can summon and use dual chakrams in battle. Not only are the chakrams equipped with blades, but lined up, they are able to charge and perform a plasma laser attack. Is eventually able to generate portals that teleport he and anyone/anything else to a location he is able to remember/picture clearly in his head.

Personality Traits: Lackadaisical, generally friendly, mischievous, sometimes difficult to motivate, generous with friends, curious, creative, anxious, conflict-averse, protective.

Likes/Interests: Urban exploration, metal and punk music, spray paint art, learning new things (though, strictly on his own terms), the night sky, spending time with his friends and teammates, traveling in general, snack food, loitering in various convenience stores

Dislikes:Tight spaces, days he is stuck at home, school as a concept, formal settings, people discussing or knowing about his “nerdy past”, academic competitions

-----

Name: Vivian Linh

Pronouns: She/Her

DOB (Star Sign): June 28th (Cancer)

Age: 13

Group: Team Moxie

Theme Color: Pink

Transformation Trinket: A butterfly hair ribbon with a rhinestone center

Transformation Phrase: “Crystal, lend me power!”

Abilities: Gains super strength, defense, and agility when powered up. Is able to summon and use a crystal hammer. Can also create crystals from her hands and feet, sometimes using this as a method of transportation (creating stepping platforms on the spot) or to shield herself, but mostly just uses it as a way of creating rock-solid boxing gloves when punching seems the superior option to hammering.

Personality Traits: Excitable, skeptical, somewhat wry, friendly, gets easily attached to people, romantic, puts on a bravado to mask that she is sensitive-hearted, stubborn, silly, the resident memer of any group she is in, easily annoyed by interruptions, independent, fierce in battle, extremely impatient, often regrets things she did without thinking but at the same time has difficulty apologizing directly, incidentally has difficulty broaching serious topics at times and will often try to joke her way out of a genuine moment if she thinks it isn’t going well,

Likes/Interests: Comics, the Sherlock Holmes books (she may or may not have a crush on him...or at least, the bishounen version of him she imagines in her mind), writing stories, daydreaming, Adventure Club (AKA she and her two fallow/non magic friends who investigate local legends for fun), days when she is home alone (she can eat pizza for breakfast and nobody can stop h e r), public hangout spaces, shiny things

Dislikes: Having to spend too much time apart from her friends, being underestimated, having her free time interrupted, unexpected changes of plan, feeling restricted, illness, pretentious things and people, feeling like she failed, dull colors, rural areas/small towns, downer endings in stories, negativity and pessimism in general, wearing her hair long

----

Name: Kevyn Debracy

Pronouns: She/Her

DOB (Star Sign): February 17th (Aquarius)

Age: 12

Group: Team Moxie

Theme Color: Teal

Transformation Trinket: A seashell brooch

Transformation Phrase: “Pearl, lend me power!”

Abilities: Gains super strength, defense, and agility when powered up. Able to summon and wield two wands that are able to control water. Is able to use both water that is around her, as well as pull moisture from the ground and air and convert it into liquid form. Can use water offensively, defensively, or to hover a little (think FLUDD from Super Mario Sunshine). Also has enhanced swimming abilities and can breathe underwater.

Personality Traits: Curious, outgoing, kind, affectionate, studious, sensitive, sympathetic, can be a little stubborn, naive, direct, honest

Likes/Interests: Meeting new people, listening to and telling stories, reading, spending time by the water, learning new things, natural science, listening to rain, watching clouds, sharing knowledge with others, going to new places, cooking (although she isn’t very good at it yet)

Dislikes:Tight spaces, being in the state of lacking memories, “mean people”, things being destroyed, spiders and cobwebs, dry weather, having to stay still and/or quiet for long periods of time, riding in the back seat of a car (cant look at anything, gets motion sickness), when people shout too much, roughhousing

#magical girl #ocs #magical moxie #im not sure if these are going to be in the order i put them in because tumblr OTL #also if you wanna know more about them just shoot me an ask! I just tried to keep their profiles short(ish)#im hoping to actually start making real content of these guys soon

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venusdeservedbetter · 5 years

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Flamebug AU - Her New Friends

Since I brought up Marinette’s Guardians, I thought it would only be appropriate to create small bios for each of the new characters of importance.

Allegra Harper

Codename: Melodie

Age 14

Nationality: American-French

Flame Type: Sun, Rain subtype

Weapon: Flute

Flute channels Flames for attacks

Has collapsible Blade

Description: Medium height, lithe build. Long, braided blonde hair. Purple eyes. Wears Casual clothing, often pink or purple.

Likes: Soft clothing, music, sweets, Marinette’s designs.

Dislikes: Suits, High heels, death metal, spicy foods.

Dream Job: Flutist for an orchestra

Allen Montgomery

Codename: Mercury

Age: 14

Nationality: Pakistani-French

Flame type: Lightning

Weapon: Lightning Gear

Allows Allen to create and manipulate electricity

Gloves can shape Lightning Flames, and body can manipulate them

Description: Medium height and build. Toned build. Dark skin and hair, Hazel eyes. Strictly casual clothing, wears hats and jackets often. Loves green.

Likes: Football (Soccer), green clothing, kids, his mothers cooking.

Dislikes: racism, very bright colors, coffee

Dream Job: Football player

Claude Archambeau

Codename: Kid Mime

Age: 15

Nationality: French

Flame Type: Mist

Weapon: Mime Gear (he is the only one who calls it that)

Allows Mist constucts

Made to be invisible for added flair

Description: Med Tall height, medium build. Blue eyes, messy brown hair. Wears Striped casual clothing.

Likes: Pantomime, having fun, his friends

Dislikes: Rude people, dark colors, rules, deceit without just causes.

Dream Job: undecided

Michel Uccello

Codename: Sparrow

Age: 15

Nationality: Italian-French

Flame type: Cloud

Weapon: Darts, small projectiles

Flawless shot

Often Propagates projectiles in midair.

Description: Medium Height, lithe build. Messy black hair, Slate-blue eyes. Prominent eye bags from lack of sleep. Pale olive complexion. Wears loose fitting clothing.

Likes: Superheroes, the Sparrow, silence, muted colors

Dislikes: Lila Rossi, people who call Sparrow a sidekick, loud people, bright colors

Dream job: Superhero

#flamebug au #ml allegra #ml claude #ml sparrow #ml allen

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our-happygirl500-fan · 1 year

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We know that with the exception of Leo the Turtles like to make codenames based off their special interests which can be seen by Mikey coming up with multiple doctor personas for himself or Donnie creating chess code names for his family in the episode Mind Meld or Raph creating code names based off of songs.

Mikey: Good Morning, I’m Doctor Feelings

Donnie: This is Purple Knight is everyone in position

Raph: Red King is set

Raph: Purple Rain, do you see the target?

However whenever Leo tries to come up with a code name for himself unlike his brothers he appears to struggle with coming up with a code name based off of his own interests & the best he is able to come up with is blue, the colour Splinter gave him

Leo: I’m changing my code name too, uh... Blue Bluey! No... Blue... uh-

When Leo tries to come up with a new code name for himself in the episode Mind Meld the best he is able to come up with is the name Bluey but Bluey is actually a reference to a scene in Ducktales where Dewey is upset about Scrooge lumping the triplets all together instead of bothering to acknowledge them as individuals

Dewey: Which triplet am I?

Scrooge: It’s ah... Bluey?

There’s a slight form of irony to Rise referencing a scene where a blue character wants to be acknowledged for themselves rather than simply being considered part of a unit when Leo getting stuck on the colours that were given to him & his brothers by their father when trying to come up with a new code name possibly shows that when Leo is in a mission mindset his own interests are discarded in favour of revolving around his family

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo hamato #rottmnt #tmnt

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diinofayce · 5 years

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Shadows on the Horizon - 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC! Layne Hardin | Word Count: 2k | Warnings: Language, Hydra doing bad shit | A/N: This is chapter one of my sequel book to Like a Whisper in the Night. I highly recommend reading that first, you can find it right here >> x <<

“Kill the lights, Thor,” Layne whispered into the commlink in her ear.

She was perched in a treetop high above a known Hydra compound in Siberia. The mask that had been shielding her face from the cold wind up in the treetops was pulled down around her neck so as not to obstruct her orders and so that her binoculars would sit more comfortably on her nose. The only sound that could be heard was the soft whirring and occasional clicks of the enhancer that was surgically implanted on the side of her head. Shuri had managed to update it from the original design to make it less noticeable and less likely to get caught in her long brown hair, but it seemed like the biting cold made it hard for the little box to do its job. Frost making the gears run sluggish and harsh, she wondered if Bucky ever had this problem with his arm but assumed not seeing as it was made out this bitter cold.

With a rumble of sudden thunder, dark grey clouds came rolling in from the north, lightning crackled along the fluffy ridges of the storm. As it seemed to almost settle itself purely above the brick and mortar complex, lightning bolts flashed and targeted the power supplies. Generators popped and smoldered, small flames shooting up to the night sky only to be quenched by the sudden downpour of freezing rain.

Layne cursed softly to herself as the wind whipped the rain her way, it turns into ice shards that beat against her skin by the time it got to her hiding spot. Raising the binoculars to her nose again she focused her vision so she was able to see the auras of everyone in that building, including her own team.

“Sweet, Sergeant; your west is good to go,” Layne muttered into the comms, watching as the bright yellow and army green silhouettes made their silent entrance on the west side of the building.

She moved her vision to the south side of the complex where the silent infiltration was waiting for the go-ahead, unfortunately, the generators were also housed on the south end.

“I have unfriendlies moving south. Assault team, make some noise, please.” Layne ordered. With the onslaught of the storm and how far off Layne was she couldn’t hear from her position if Agent Sweet and the Sergeant were doing as instructed, but she figured they were when the group of five bright blue silhouettes that had been running for the south side turned on their heels and headed down a Westward corridor.

“Five your way from the south-east, assault team. Specter, you’re green to go.”

Layne watched as the lemon yellow aura of her brother faded from her vision, signaling to her that he had successfully melted into the shadows and entered the building. Turning her gaze back to her assault team she frowned and looked around frantically for any sign of the sergeant's army green aura when she noticed Sweet was on her own, four blue auras on the ground around her.

“Assault team, report,” Layne demanded as she watched Sweet continue down the hallway towards a southwest room.

“Barnes went after one of the operatives - looked like a lab tech more than a soldier. I think Barnes recognized him,” Sweet’s voice crackled back through the comm link and Layne swore.

“Sergeant, report,” Layne demanded aggressively, not worried if her voice happens to carry to unwanted ears. “Bucky, fucking report, dammit.”

Layne combed the complex, not even looking away as Thor landed below her tree with a heavy thud and a plume of snow. He held Stormbreaker in one hand and his burnt-out commlink in the other, his face stoic and serious as he also watched the complex down below the hill.

“Specter, do you have eyes on the Sergeant?” Layne asked, a desperate edge creeping into her voice.

“No,” came the faint whisper of his voice which told her that he was still mostly dematerialized and finding a way to complete his part of the mission.

Layne swore and threw the binoculars to the ground.

“Thor, I have to go dark.”

“Lady Whisper, I think that is unwise,” Thor grit out. He wasn’t a fan of the assault team being split up either, but he knew that Sweet was more than capable of taking care of herself despite his worry.

“I’m in charge of this mission, Thor. One of my operatives is unresponsive and this needs to be followed through to the end. Will you protect me?” Layne asked, scooting back against the trunk of the tree. She pulled a rope off of a carabiner on her tact pants and threw it around the trunk and her waist before cinching herself in place.

Thor gritted his teeth, a growl of frustration tore from his chest and up his throat, he knew he shouldn’t let her go in but he was just as unnerved as anyone. He caught the comm link that Layne threw down to him and watched as she took a deep breath. In the dark, he could see her dark brown eyes flash with amber fire before her body went limp and ragdolled against the tree, saved from falling out by the rope around her waist.

Thor slipped the commlink in his ear and hit the button. “I am back online. Whisper has entered the field,” he spoke gruffly. “Report.”

He heard his lady’s frustrated sigh and the sound of automatic gunfire. “Of course she is. I’m in position, holding for Specter.”

“Any signs of Sergeant Barnes?”

“Negative.”

Thor dropped his hand from his ear and looked back up at Layne’s empty shell of a body. He scrubbed his hand over his beard aggressively before sinking the blade of Stormbreaker into a neighboring tree. It was not often Thor was the one who had to stay back and do nothing and it was not a situation he was fond of being in.

Layne loved astral projecting, for most of her life she hated her abilities. They made her feel like a freak and her parents and eldest brother often made life hell for her and Daniel for being something other than normal kids. But now, after being with the Avengers for a little over a year she couldn’t get enough of them. Although, the first few months were rough, getting past her alcohol addiction and getting used to the stress and drama that came with being a superhero all in a very short amount of time made it hard to have a healthy relationship. Not that she and Bucky started in a healthy way to begin with, but they were in a much more solid space now. They trusted each other implacably and rarely was one sent on a mission without the other, which is why Bucky neglecting to answer his report demand made her so high strung. Something was wrong, Bucky wouldn’t fail her in this one simple way.

In this bodiless form, Layne was able to slip between cracks in doors and remain unseen despite basically floating down the middle of the hallways. She couldn’t really see, though, was the only issue not in a traditional sense anyway. Everything appeared like a gray barely shaped blob, like a video game that was poorly rendered. What she could see were the auras of individuals, brightly lighting their location for her so she could easily take over the consciousness of anyone of her choosing.

They were basically color coded, which made it easy to find people like Steve and Bucky who were a rich army green or Thor and Loki who were bright royal red; but most people were either a brilliant cobalt blue or a fluorescent yellow. Blue were humans and yellow were mutants. People who were enhanced, like Steve and Bucky, had different colored auras and she tried to keep a little catalog of different ones she’s come across. Like King T’Challa was a beautiful velvet purple and Bruce while usually blue often had a noxious neon green swirling around the depths of his aura until the Hulk took over and was green entirely.

Layne found her best friend, Susanna Sweet’s, location fairly easily. As a mutant with super strength in a Hydra facility, she was one of two yellow auras in the building; the other being her brother, Daniel codename Specter’s, flickering aura. He could melt into shadows and control auras just as she could and when he was disappeared his aura disappeared with him leaving no trace. But he was skilled at computers and engineering so they had brought him along to run the hacking and you needed corporeal fingers to hack. Swooping past Susanna, she heard her friend cuss softly at the information Thor was feeding her through the comm link.

It should be easy to find Bucky, only two people in the entire planet (that she had come across) had auras like them so why wasn’t she seeing it? Turning a corner she found herself blocked by an odd force field. It covered a large set of double doors and beyond it, Layne could see six blue auras, one yellow, and one that oozed with inky black fury. Layne pressed her consciousness against the doorway, but it was almost like a thick rubber wall coated the doors and she couldn’t find purchase.

She swirled around from room to room trying to think of everything the different spies at the Avengers complex taught her. What would Natasha or Clint do? It was then that she caught sight of the air vents and triumphantly ghosted her way through them. The ducts were heavy with dust and grime and despite not having lungs in this form it still made her feel dirty and clogged down.

Finding the air vents to the barricaded room weren’t blocked she shot out and if she had blood it would have turned to ice. Standing there, like she had seen so many times from Bucky’s screaming nightmares, in all it’s cold rusted glory was the chair. A bruised and battered woman, her hair roughly shorn from her scalp, sat in the far corner, her hands outstretched towards the double doors. No doubt a mutant they kept once word of Layne and Daniel leaked to the presses, a very helpful power to slow the two phantom kids down. But what scared Layne the most was the soldiers and the scientists that were crowded around Bucky. He stood still, the light behind his eyes gone, as one of the soldiers clapped shut a little red book.

Layne had seen photos of that book, she knew that book had been destroyed. The aura that poured from Bucky was so intensely black it almost seemed to suck in the light around it, it oozed pain and hatred and despair. Gone was any sign of the warm, strong, confident green of what his aura was supposed to look like. This wasn’t Bucky anymore, this was bad; very, very bad. Suddenly the Soldier’s cold eyes shot up to where she was invisibly hovering and it froze her to her core. There was none of her Bucky behind that stare, those eyes were murderous and spiteful and somehow they knew she was there. As the soldiers started dragging Bucky back towards the chair, Layne shook herself out of her stupor and flew back through the vents.

Retracing the halls she flew past Susanna and into the room where her brother was just pulling a flash drive from a computer tower. He looked up sharply as he sensed his sister’s aura and the panic it was in. Layne saw his eyes flash that same amber fire as he made room in his mind for her. Layne melted into her brother, sharing with him the memory of what she had just witnessed as she raised her brother’s hand to his commlink.

“Sergeant Barnes is down. The Winter Soldier is on the field.”

#bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x layne hardin #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #shadows on the horizon #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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aryapineapple · 5 years

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July 8, 2019

I always inevitably come back here.

This diary helps me process my thoughts.

Yesterday, an ex-boyfriend messaged me. He was one of the good ones. My heart did end up breaking, but it was for the best. We’re both mature and have grown enough that we can be friends again now. We talked till 2am about life, happiness, religion, and all the deep stuffs we used to talk about.

Talking to him triggered a bunch of deep thinking today, and all day, I’ve been in a strange state of mind, where my consciousness is all in my head, thinking, and my physical body is on autopilot.

So I spent all day lost in my thoughts. The four main topics of my thoughts were relationships, happiness, the future, and Sunflower (codename for current crush).

relationships

i very much idealize people. i create a perfect version of them in my head. i fall in love with that version of them that doesnt really exist to anyone except me, instead of the real them. so i want to stop doing that. i wanna learn about people’s flaws, their problems, issues, likes, dislikes, everything. i wanna learn what makes them, them. and then i wanna fall in love with the real them.

i definitely idealized sunflower. i saw him as this unattainable, perfect jock boy that couldn’t ever possibly like me. and i was content with that. i was content with having an unrequited crush on him.

then he held me in his arms late at night, after an awfully intense finals study session, and i was a mess. he pulled me close to him, as we were wrapped in cozy blankies, with warm purple lights washing over everything and making it feel like a dreamy world of our own. and he kissed me.

the next day, under certain circumstances, my perceptions of many things was shifted. including sunflower. before i saw him as an idealized version of himself. but all of a sudden i could see him as a normal person. someone like me. someone dorky, someone who felt raw emotions, someone imperfect.

and, i still liked him. and i still do like him. flaws and all.

happiness

my goal has always been to find happiness eventually in life.

yesterday i was told that chasinf happiness isnt the best. i cant always just be happy. i agreed. life is full of ups and downs. aiming to be content with my life is better. happiness is lovely. but it cant exist without sadness as well.

i do want to be happy with myself. fall in love with myself. and with being alive.

the future

i want to move back to seattle after college. seattle makes me happy, the city itself. the rain, the cloudy skies. the chilly weather. the beautiful plants absolutely everywhere. walking down the street makes me happy. out in the rain, taking the bus, sitting on the floor in the bookstore. falling asleep as the rain drips down my window.

i dont want to sacrifice this for anyone. this is what i want and i dont plan to give it up

sunflower

past ari would likely spend a lot of time daydreaming about bringing sunflower with her to seattle

i dont want to set myself up for another heartbreak.

ignoring the fact that im getting way ahead of myself, considering hes not even my boyfriend yet, i recognize that this boy might not want to move to a new city with me. and that this relationship isnt one that is sure to last forever.

i do want to give him my heart for now though. i want to enjoy my time with him, while i can. i dont want to regret anything. i dont want to regret holding back when i had the chance. so ill give it my all while it lasts.

and if it ends, ill give myself a day or two. then ill wipe away my tears, and ill look forward to a new chapter in my life.

but for now, ill let myself be lost in the warm eyes, the soft brown hair, and that dorky smile.

#diary

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josiecarioca · 3 years

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“Family...the real one.”

Summary: Emmet “Fin” Finnerty has found the love of his life in Doug Cleary. The next logical step is introducing him to his family...The real one.

Because “family” are those who take you in, when the ones who should love and protect you, fail.

Disclaimer: Fin and Doug are secondary characters of “Post War”, so while thechnically this story happens in the “Harry Potter” universe, it is not a fanfic as much as it is an original story, hence why it’s a tumblr publication alone. Evelyn is in this, but there will be no Snape, no magic and nothing of what my readers are used to see in my stories. I hope you still like it.

Warning: contains domestic violence, homophobia, homophobic slurs and emotions

Tagging, as usual: @arabellafiggypudding @the-witches-son @hummingbird-flying-in-the-rain @artisticreptilequeen @viper-official @be-zoar @violet-knox @mafagafobebum @marvelschriss @codename-thedoctor @zealouspickleeggdragon @green-oasis @drawnfromthedead @snapescapades @madshelily @serosvit @snapecentric @hbprincealice @hayalee8 @lilythemadqueen @paracosim @oliverlandomens @sleepysnapesnake

“Family...the real one”

Dublin, Ireland

June 1998

“Full disclosure?” Fin was rambling. He knew he was. He usually did when he was nervous. Doug surely knew that by now. He even claimed he found it “adorable”. Only Doug could say something like that.

Three months. Three months and he was ready to make this official. He knew Doug felt the same. Unlike Fin, he had no problem showing his feeling, shouting them from the rooftops even. That didn't come so easy for Fin. It never did. But now, now he could do just that. Shout it from the rooftops. Make it official. And making it official started here. Introducing him to Lyn. It was a big step.

“Go ahead” Doug smiled, gazing at him with bright blue eyes full of endless patience.

Three months. Three months and Fin was starting to feel like this was it. He had found what he looked for in that handsome, sweet 6'ft tall dork of a man.

“You´re the first boyfriend I introduce to Evelyn since...God, I don't know...1995?”

“And why is that?” Doug asked, somewhat amused. After all, how much of a big deal could this possibly be? Sure, he was about to introduce his new boyfriend to his best friend, obviouly it was important, but how could he begin to explain it wasn´t just that simple?

“You know how it was...back then, I mean. I wasn't really being safe, and Lyn was just so worried about me and I never really thought she would approve of … Nevermind, now it's different. I want you to meet her. It's important.”

Fin looked around. He had picked a good place. The restaurant was nice enough that it felt like an occasion, but casual enough that it didn't seem like he was making a big fuss of it. But he was. It was a big deal. Fin wasn't the 'dating' type. But Doug was not like anybody he met before. Doug has this sort of tranquil aura about him, this kindness in his words and actions, such love in his eyes. Doug made him feel like he could just rest, breathe easy. This time he knew it was different. It just felt different. It felt like it could last.

Doug reached over the table to hold his hand, reassuringly.

“Her opinion means a lot to you, no?”

“Well, yes...this is my family we´re talking about. The real one, you know?”

Doug had been lucky. His parents loved him unconditionally, as parents should. He wasn´t kicked out of the house when he came out, he wasn´t told his entire being, his entire identity was an abomination before God. He wasn't made believe that no matter how good he was, how much of a good Christian he was, he would still go to hell for something he couldn't change. No, his parents loved him, protected him. Fin had also been lucky, but in a different, more complicated way. The family that loved and protected him wasn´t the one he was born into. It was Evelyn's.

“So, you told me you've known each other since you were kids...but, you never really said much more than that...”

That's right, Fin thought. He'd never told him. Not everything. He had to.

“I was friends with her brother growing up...Paul. We went to school together.”

There it was, that bittersweet ache in his heart. He hadn't felt it in a while

“I daresay I had a bit of a crush on him. Sometimes I wonder if he felt the same. But I guess I'll never know.”

“Why not?”

“Paul passed away. There was a fire in their house when he was just eleven. Lyn was there too. Their father pulled her out in time because she was closer to the door, but when he got to Paul it was too late. It happened too fast. ”

“I'm so sorry” Doug seemed stunned out of words. “I didn't know.”

“I didn't tell you. I should have. Specially today....we still have some time before she gets here, so....I think if we're serious about this, then you should meet Evelyn and her family...my family. That's why this is important to me. That you meet her and that you meet them.”

“Ok...So tell me. Tell me about your family, Fin.”

“I guess I should start from the beginning, then...Paul and I, we went to the same school. Catholic school...fun times.” he scoffed “Lyn was just a yar younger than us, and she went to an all girls school. Their father, Mr. Black was the headmaster, there. Paul took her everywhere with us when we weren't at school. Nothing could separate those two...Well, then...Paul passed away, and I was devastated, but her? I don't think there was a word in the entire dictionary that could have described how she was feeling, the poor girl. So I started going there to visit. They were all in such pain that I think Mr. Black let me spend as much time in their house as I wanted because he hoped it would help her. As it turns out it helped me. Being around her was a little like being with him. She looked so much like Paul it was eerie, nearly identical. I swear, if you could have seen them together, you'd swear they were twins. She was different though. Paul was like a hurricane in a boy's body. Lyn was much gentler. Anyway, the years went on and she just became...my sister, in a way. More than my own sister, to be honest. I'm pretty sure my parents expected us to date or something, but she knew, she was the first person I told. So she just came to my house, and smiled and nodded when my mother went on babbling about how we were perfect for each other and whatever nonsense. Then it happened...”

…

Doolin, Ireland

June, 1977

“What do you think?” Evelyn twirled, wrapped in meters of flowy, flowery fabric. The sun that came through the curtains filtered though the fabric, colouring the room.

“What am I looking at?” Emmet put down his magazine and watched her, trying to picture what she planned to do with the material she was showing him.

“My new dress, Fin!” she smiled, calling him by the nickname Paul had come up with years ago. Fin for 'Finnerty'. After Paul died, it was just the two of them. Fin and Lyn. “For my birthday. Since I'll be 15, mam said I can have it however I want.”

“Your birthday is in September!”

“It takes time to make a dress, and my grandma is going to have her hands full with Halloween costumes soon, so she's going to make my dress now. I want it long, with a bodice and medieval sleeves. Like Stevie Nicks in that magazine my dad brought from Dublin. He brought me the new Fleetwood Mac record too, here put it on.”

She set the fabric aside and fished the long play from the big canvas bag she had brought.

Whenever Lyn came over she always brought that huge bag, filled with clothes, magazines, records and books. She knew Fin couldn´t have any of that stuff at home. His mother didn't allow him to wear anything more colorful than a blue dress shirt for sunday mass, and his father was the one who decided which records, books or magazines were allowed in the house. Which meant no fashion or entertainment mags, no rock or pop music, and no books that seemed “suspicious”, which was pretty much anything that wasn't a school textbook. If not for Evelyn's father Emmet wouldn't even have read Oscar Wilde.

She handed him the record and he put it on, in the old record player Evelyn had snuck in for his last birthday. Her mother had got a new one, so she let Fin have the old 1967 Magnavox. His parents had no idea he had that thing in the bedroom, so he had to keep the volume low enough that his parents wouldn't hear it downstairs, or that they'd just think he had the radio on.

“We should ask my dad to take us next time he goes to Dublin. He promised me new shoes for my birthday. Red leather ones. With heels, I'm old enough for heels now. They only have those in Dublin.” Evelyn suggested, as both of them lay on the floor, staring at the reflection of the sun on the ceilling.

“You know my parents won't let me go.”

“They will if my dad is taking us. Or even better, if mam comes too. Your mother goes to church with her, of course she's going to let you go if she's with us. She's better to shop with anyway.”

“Maybe.” he trailed, knowing it wouldn't happen.

“We can buy some things for Halloween costumes. You should ask my grandma to make you one as well.Ooh, you know what? We can go as John Steed and Emma Peel! All you'll need is a suit, an umbrella and a hat, and grandma Liz can make me a jumpsuit. That purple one, with the chains! Or you want do do something spooky?”

“We´re not kids, anymore, Lyn.” he laughed

“And?”

“You really want to dress up for Halloween? We´re too old for that.”

“My grandparents still dress up for Halloween.” she scoffed

“It's different.”

“How?”

“They're...old-old. When you get to be their age you can do whatever you want.”

“They're not that old. I mean, if you...”

Evelyn's sentence was cut short by loud banging on the door. Emmet scrambled to his feet to turn off the music and toss a blanket over the record player. His father never banged on his door more than twice before yanking it open without waiting for an answer.

“You, downstairs now.” he barked at Emmet, before turning to Evelyn “And you can go back home, young lady. I need to talk to my son”

Emmet felt his stomach drop. His father never bothered to 'talk' to him, unless he was in trouble.

Evelyn picked up her things in a hurry and shoved it all back inside her bag, glancing over her shoulder at him all the while. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't know what.

“Now!” his father thundered from the stairs.

Emmet was frozen in place.

“Emmet is just helping me with my things, Mr. Finnerty. We'll be right there.” Evelyn answered, her voice slightly breaking.

“Come on...” she told him, holding his arm. “I'll go with you.”

“You have to go home.” he finally found his voice and his feet moved.

Emmet felt her hand grab his as they climbed down the stairs. His father was walking around the livingroom in circles, while his mother was talking to somebody. He heard her apologizing profusely. Then he realized why. She was talking to Connor Walsh's mother. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Mrs Walsh shot him a disgusted look on her way out.

“Evelyn, dear, you can go now.” Mrs. Finnerty said, and Emmet noticed she had a piece of paper in her shaky hands. He knew that piece of paper. He looked at Evelyn, feeling like the world was a minute away from crashing down onto his head. She looked back at him, knowingly. He had told her about Connor...about the letter. She knew. He felt her hand squeeze his again.

“I won't.” she whispered.

Emmet didn't want her to go. But he also didn't want her to stay. He didn't want her to see what he knew was about to happen.

Neither of them had the time to say anything else. His father snatched the letter from his mother's hand and grabbed Emmet by the collar, nearly shoving the paper into his face.

“Did you write this?” he roared

Emmet couldn't find his voice. He felt warm tears swelling in his eyes. He could hear his mother's voice, asking his father to let him go and telling Evelyn to just go already.

“Did you write this drivel, lad?! Answer!” his father insisted, pushing the letter into his chest.

“Answer, Emmet!” his mother was crying “This is just a prank isn't it?”

It was over.

There was no point in lying, he had the letter right there. His mother might try to lie to herself, to convince him it was nothing, but it was there, plain for anyone to see it. They read it. They knew. He was sure they had already heard the rumors, the talk, the othe boys calling him this and that.

They knew it. They couldn´t pretend they didn't

“I did.” he barely whispered.

Next thing he knew he felt his body hit the wall in full force. It didn't even hurt. It didn´t feel real.

Evelyn screamed and, from the corner of his eye, he saw her run to him. His father stepped in front of her.

“You get out of my house now, before I drag you home to your father, so he can teach you to mind your own business, lass.”

“Fin, I'll be right back!” she cried, running out the front door.

“What the devil were you thinking writing this?!” his father pulled him to his feet by his shirt.

“Stephen, let the lad go. This was just a game, just stupid prank. Tell him, Emmet, tell him this isn't serious.”

This was it.

They knew it.

They read it.

There was no turning back now.

“I did it, mam. I did it, I wrote it. It wasn't a prank, I really wrote it.”

“You hear it, Edith?! Your son can't even have the decency to be ashamed!”

“Why?! Why would you do something like this?!”

“You know why!” Emmet nearly screamed, overwhelmed, dizzy “You read it, didn't you? You know why! Iwrote it because I love him!”

His parents stared at him as if they were looking at something alien, something they couldn´t comprehend.

“Mam...dad...” he felt the tears run down his cheeks, burning. But he refused to cry, to sob. He wouldn't do that. “I'm gay.”

Emmet had expected his father to hit him.

What he didn't expect was for his mother to slap him.

But she did. She slapped him hard across the face and left the room. Like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.

Anything after that didn't hurt. He didn't even feel it.

It was as if he had left his body. He could vaguely discern some broken words, something about “bringing filth into his house”, “shame” and “hell”...he could see the blows coming, and his body acted on instinct, raising his arms to protect his head, his face. But he didn't feel it. He didn't feel any of it. He just cowered on the corner and closed his eyes, praying it would be over soon. Praying he would get tired eventually. Before he hurt him too bad. Before...

“Stephen, what the devil are you doing?!” Emmet knew that voice, that deep voice filling the air around them like thunder. “Have you lost your mind?!”

The blows stopped and he opened his eyes.

Mr. Black was standing right there, with both his arms around his father, draging him away.

“Let me go, Marius!” his father shouted, like a man possessed, while Mr. Black kept holding him back.

“Leave the boy alone, Stephen! You're trying to kill him?”

Emmet tried to get up but he was too dizzy.

“Fin, are you ok?” Evelyn was kneeling next to him, frantically pushing his hair away form his face.

“You called your dad?” he was terrified.

“Of course I did!” she helped him up.

He heard a loud thump and looked up. Mr. Black had flung his father onto the armchair, and was now standing, looming over him. He looked taller than Emmet remembered him, much taller. And his father, sitting on the chair looked so small by comparison.

“Enough!” Mr. Black boomed, and Emmet could had sworn the ground under his feet trembled.

“You don't get it, Marius! You don't know what this...what this boy did!”

“Whatever it was, it doesn't justify this!” Mr. Black took off his thick rimmed glasses and pinched the brigde of his nose, in evident frustration.

His father got back to his feet, standing right in front of Mr. Black and he still looked small.

“This none of your business!”

“You made it my business when you sent my daughter back home in tears, scared out of her wits that you were going to kill her friend!”

“Then take your daughter back home and let ME handle what happen in MY house!” He pushed past Mr. Black and barrelled towards Emmet.

Mr. Black tried to hold him back, but he took a swing at him. Emmet and Evelyn both screamed, but Mr. Black managed to dodge it. He reached for his father again, shoving him so he'd back off.

“Linnie, get Emmet out of here!” Mr. Black told his daughter, and Lyn tried to pull him by his arm, but Emmet couldn't move.

“Stephen, for the love of God, stop! You'll regret this!”Mr. Black pleaded, stepping between Emmet and his father.

“What do you know, Marius?! You don't have a fecking faggot living under your roof! Count your blessings, Marius, because I rather have a dead son than this!”

For a second, a long, agonising second, time seemed to stand still. Emmet could see it on his father's face that he had regretted those words the moment they left his mouth. Not because of what they meant to Emmet. No, he knew his father meant every bit of that. But because he knew, of all the things he could have said to Mr. Black, that was the wrong one.

Emmet had known Mr. Black his entire life. He never saw him raise his voice, he had never seen him angry. He was a gentle man. A man who took them birdwatching on weekends, who bought them magazines and records whenever he went to Ennis or Dublin, who told them about his favorite poets and painters. Emmet didn't think he was physically capable of being anything other than gentle and kind.

But in that moment, he changed.

Emmet never thougth he'd see Mr. Black punch somebody. But he did it. A single punch, right to the side of his father face, so strong, so sudden, he fell to the floor like rotten fruit falls from a tree.

“Never” he growled in a voice that didn't sound like his voice at all “you hear me, NEVER talk about my son again! You heard me, Stephen!? NEVER! I promise you, you mention my boy ever again, and it will be the end of your sorry life upon this Earth, I promise you!”

“I didn't mean it like, that, you know I didn't...” Emmet watched with disgust as his father tried to get back on his feet, stumbling, humiliated.

“I know exactly what you meant! And you know what you meant, you dirty coward!”

He kept trying to make excuses, but Mr. Black would have none of it.

“You don't know, you have no idea, what it is to bury a child, and I hope to God you never find out.” his voice was calmer, but there was a frightening coolness to it “Are you out of your damned mind?! This is your son! Standing right there while you´re wishing him dead! What I wouldn't give to trade places with you! To have my boy here, alive, like him!”

Emmet was numb. He felt Evelyn rest her head against his shoulder and weep, softly. He wanted to hug her, to do something, anything. But all he could was stare. Stare at his father, trying and failing to stand up to her father, as Mr. Black towered over him, his face filled with righteous, godly, ice-cold anger. And he felt so embarrassed, so ashamed that this man, this petty, pathetic, bumbling excuse of a man was his father.

“Easy for you to say, Marius, but if Paul had been a...”

“I won't hear my son's name from your mouth again, Stephen. Paul is dead. And if I could have him back, I would have him however he was. Trust me, nothing can worse than a dead child. Nothing!”

“That's a pretty sentiment coming from somebody who doesn´t have to live with THAT under your roof! But I won't stand for this! I won't have this in my house!”

“Fine, I'll take him!”

“What?!”

“You don't want him under your roof? I'll solve that problem for you, then. I'll take him. However he is. I'll take him.”

…

“What on earth happened to you, dear?” Mrs. Black seemed horrified when she laid eyes on him, as Lyn walked him throught the front door. Emmet, still dazed, wondered how bad he must have looked for her react that way. She put her hand on his cheek, and her blue eyes were filled with something he couldn't describe. “What has he done to you?”

Only then did he cry. Only then did he allow himself to sob.

It was Evelyn's mother who held him in her arms as he had, so foolishly, hoped his mother would.

“I...I...told them I...I'm sorry, I...” he pulled back and wiped his tears, suddenly aware that...she didn't know. Mrs. Black went to church with his mother. She didn't know he was... A rush of panic coursed through him. What would she say? He couldn't. He couldn't go through this twice.

“Take a breath, pet.” she told him, pulling him to sit on the couch. “Linnie, love, go get the first aid kit in the kitchen, we need to patch this lad up a bit. And try not to alarm your sister, if you will. And where is your father?”

“He's waiting for Mrs. Finnerty to get him all of Fin's...I mean, Emmet's stuff.”

Mrs. Black nodded, as if she knew something. As if she had been expecting to be told exactly that. Lyn looked at her mother with the same knowing expression in her eyes and went to the kitchen as intructed.

Emmet felt like runnning away, as far away as he could.

“Mr. Black he said...I'm sorry,I have to...I have to go back, I can't...”

“Emmet, calm down.”

“Mrs. Black, I know you don't want me here. I...I'm...I mean, I...told my parents...”

“I know, pet. I know.”

“No you don't...”

“Emmet, my darling, why do you think I allow you to be in Linnie's room for hours with the door closed? I'm not stupid.” she laughed softly.

“How?”

“A mother just knows...”

“Mine didn't.”

“If she let your father do this, then she's not that competent of a mother is she?” Mrs. Black scoffed. “But, trust me...a mother knows.”

Then it clicked. Then he knew.

“You mean...” he trailed, stunned “...Paul?”

“I carried him inside me 9 months, I birthed him, clothed, fed him, cared for him till the day he left this Earth. Nobody knew him better than I did, except God.”

“God...” he spat out “My mother thinks God will send me to hell. Because the Bible says...”

“Oh pish-posh...I pray on the Bible as well as any Christian, but Jesus knows where I would be if I took everything it's written in there so seriously. Thou shall now lay with a man, and whatnot, fine, but you don't see anybody that eager to give up their breakfast bacon because the Bibles says it's forbidden, now do you? Your parents didn't stone your sister in the town square when she left the house married for two days and pregnant for 2 months, did they? Like we all didn't know. Enough of this nonsense, now, we need to get you fixed up. God, you're bleeding.”

“So I really can stay?”

“Do you want to stay?”

…

“So I stayed.” Fin smiled. He looked up at Doug and took a deep breath, hoping he didn't think it was sillly that he had tears in his eyes over this. But all he saw in Doug's expression was understanding...and love. So much of it.

“I stayed until we both left for college, Lyn and I. She studied history and I went for journalism.Mrs. Black was the one who got me my first camera, then Mr Black gave me my first professional camera, and books about photography and journalism. They did everything for me that a mother and a father would do. I stilll go back with Lyn to spend the holidays with them. Well, with her...He passed away a few months ago. His heart. Funny that of all things, it was his heart that would kill him.”

Doug's hands closed over his.

“Thank you.” he said, quietly. “For telling me all this. I know it wasn't easy.”

“I...” he didn't finish. Over Doug's shoulder he saw the restaurant door open, and Evelyn walk in, wrapped in a long, flowy, flowery dress. “There she is.”

#Pride month #fanfic?#Original story #Evelyn Black #not taggng this snapedom because is not #but happens in the Post War universe #Post War #Emmet Fin Finnerty #Douglas Doug Cleary #coming out story

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marcosoropoet · 6 years

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Pavlovian Tingle-Railway [Station Blackout] ~ (or express razor eye out Mr. Tingle)

1. Kloud killer chiller kulture canyon snake basement forge tight street corner deal forced ink steel night deal danger: Nawnawnawman. mah bruh? ten dollahs on a hundid?! Heh, I knows you's tryin tah pop it right by keeping it tight homie but this muthahfuckin-assed bullshit yo ...The Fuck Outta Here dawg thas some sorry assed real bullshit you tryin' tah pull homie home re-union haze of teenage (((flashback glitch))) in his head left a hilarious grease spot on the blackboard & chemical vandals sizzling in his brain. the green dusty blackboard in a delicately crystalline formulaic tableau of wood and numbers the vicissitudes of black snow the color of darkened ash has hushed all the talk, as he walks in tonight... menacing heights of fire escape drills, getting a dart in the back slo-mo, someone had poured soda into the ketchup bottle and now small torrents of bubbling red oozes & blooms out over the entire table ahhh! the other man makes slight adjustments to his demeanor to be less 'street' and more 'invited' why it's his reunion. flinch. ruination anguish]...dark train car rumbling out of a long dank tunnel why'd I think to see those people (((again))) — all the dark mirrors burn each morning with the sun coming up got the snake eye fingernail pie & the sway all day boo" swooning dust and pitter-patter rain falling on the wood and concrete burst open telephone call in a very clean & empty conference room all cool grey, and smoked glass ultra post-modern a tart aroma permeated throughout the heated glass sun, spun glass sun, glass skin, black tea, your loose spacetime textile, hunched machinations launched the sniper river: filled with humid headrush & slowed down lunge... bell strikes upon time textile carousal corral I'll crack tea soon, planet zone houseout your concrete vibrations played earth, I joke but I don't play hot black grit is dense milky frozen afterflow stillness flight from disorientation crush inside hothouse of humid bright light vivid green curling leaves, frozen stillness of isolated thought timestamp molecules pierce loose clean shimmers sheerly, behind a crystal sky lattice tethering, examine gravel and glass stars, vivid flowers spying are bright: sand pebbles, sun, glimmers sheerly, behind the headlong tangible surfaces, singing head, the pristine universe: filled with air, swooning belts of galaxies, silence of people spin roar and black grit is white black snow of ash razor spin cycle of blood...eyes...ears...horror. between brass skin, into an unspeaking, unexpected whole city falling, hears what time. namedrop sibelius, but no good. I had gone over to piss on a clean slab. city heavy the day fragmented air, swooning body between my fingers, from rooves near edges elbowing real business of people television sidewalk morning show trauma. 2. uncanny sharp terror reflection of purple surfaces, doing my heavy whole city hears white noise and through a candlelit's merriment chili & hot black onyx coffee deems me grass sun, glass stars, glass skin, blank memory shimmers in hems, a blown out window, gusts of icy air, was I walking in circles that day? Yes. (outtake 15: "you wanna do the purple surface deflection again, or the blank noise, or the tinsel applause rose confetti trick...) suspicious mirrors coalition carry long fingers of light, floodlight: store window glass stars, glass sun, glass sunlit coppery direction, spacetimes. sand. cut granules. increments of ideals. my song. black tea, your loose diamond-snake in hemisphere air expanded the sense of screams of the bitten who had become crazed and dethroned. Off with him. OFF. smoothing body dry at the woods' lake edge. the sense of elbowing heavy thunderstore window glass sunlit coppery direction, spacetime textile, caricature. it is what time textile, hunched...( ). every roof dots the night. bells of mirrors repeating swirling sense-blur of heady fruity honeysuckle, hot blue flowers were to go to headlong silvergold touch flame of snooty persona non grata, fractal gravity tethering my fingers, glassy black tea I had gone over the eyes like a million lilacs, cut citrus yellow hot nailgun hems gather the whole, bunched-up coarse fabric and brusquely sew through the thick tough cloth poke & bleed hole into thumb... cut citrus bitter teeth, together what white noise time. in the world...vampires go somewhere else during that time as they begin to sting and burn hazy coalition of suspicious two-way mirrors, spacetimes switched in cool cyberpunk density of mechanical and grey cliffs superimposed "mr. chili & hot-thought focus reflect purple surfaces, sun, glass stare tangy sea-spray hits the spot dothole city head, the shirt is absolutely suspicious mirror of television carousal." beautiful unspeaking, who in deep solitude, and the bells of home over the sepia photographs beneath smoked glass, drank coffee. outtake 7: naw first mix the drums. cymbals clash & smoke swirls around a black infinity screen...I like my vehicle heh-heh porque es muy correcto cógelo compound of the informal second-person singular radio static monstrous popping loops of short waves can we go back & add more drums on top straight away?fucking clowns" owning eyes, the vastest untormented rain-soaked newspaper liesure headed back to the planet of purple dunes and long drenched weeks of night and vertical waves of vibrant light-color mister, you gotta see it for yourself oh so you speak this. good. the space of a thought & sunless rose hanging where a parking universal zip code of your paw-paw fishing for debris in Jupiter flash over glitter green fishnets; these shots were hidden and codenamed: "ZZ Legs" 3. outtake 1: band tuning up dialogue heard (cackling raunch) cracking up unstoppably...right, anybody know where the green guitar went?bloody sold it?he fuckin crazy!!! you could see the blood rising in his neck and temple veins alert today (((you?))) with identity overhead cranking tarantula of metal & ice rising dynamic inversion, tangible fumes, kloud killer chiller kulture canyon snake scale basement killer chiller vein driller no filler no filter radioactive reiteration seeker out there basement cracked, hatchet wielder crack good time dark whip in good time, at blood manor of (((thinking)))... detached arid solipsism generates the worst cosmopolitan anecdotes dismantled donned unwashed plenitude killer killer fecund reverts to gradients dismantling each mustard-colored enclosure pocket, rumblings of what smiles and creaks tantalizing razor into the sunlights & sunlight & sunlight's razor-sharp cut where a thousand days ran in dark mirrors bursting through torrents of fruity bodywash exploding from the old tv. did time have something to do with playing that scene in reverse? rumblings of abrasive verbal angst. this could change nothing in the memory of the differing, somewhat superimposed seasons, and regions of the psyche's endless topography and subtle extras. Ever see big mountain stones. Where? With identity garbed, dispersed, in exposed retinas with identity hours away, abrasive sandspray in the eyes and kick to the gut before hyper speed chaotic scene/car chase/ fruitstands decimated confetti storm in jewel tone bust ))). alert to run in happy blinding onto one that is there, not in part. with a fresh braid from cracked roses hung up in snow and smoke, *** overhead cranking tarantula of metal & ice rising dynamic inversion, tangible fumes, kloud killer chiller kulture canyon snake basement cracked hatchet wielder in good time, at blood manor of (((thinking)))... detached arid solipsism generates the worst cosmopolitan anecdotes dismantled donned unwashed plenitude killer killer fecund reverts to gradients dismantling each mustard-colored enclosure, forge forced reunion flinch ruination anguish]...dark train car all dark mirror burn from mama each morning, better the misgivings of blue trees, into gas stupid disowned eyes, the vastest spit of untormented strung down stupified, feeling rain-soaked the space of a thought & sunless rose sparkling unguent, parking universal zip codes of your paw-paw fishing tongue stump hush lagoon fireflies — alert today (((you?))) with identity tusk doodle ember light rumblings of what smiles and creaks tantalizing onto matter of abrasive window with you, and ran in the sunlit heavily garbed, dispersed out his own mythic eyes winters rooftops, had time to run in exposed retinas' splendor clasp, smashed out eyes & all windows, the sunless rooftops smashed, fingers rose from crack liquid officers roses embellishing a gold mask *** fishing for a window and ran in the Laundromat an eerie confessional ambient track beneath the while of detergent pods reversal zip codes of december's scratch down loose from earth golden rock sunless rooftops, headless rooftops, had time to turn today unpeeling stretched on, fingers bursting unceasing, better off euphoria than rainy days yet I have been euphoric on rainy days, the light refracted on rainy city nights is dazzling, optic. matter of what smiles and stretched a window with you, and winters rose hanging purple a tapestry fractal repetition hidden inside everything heavy stones, old earth blood-purple heavy stolen hungry in a smashed autographed rapid metal scrape turning signals sent of empire time dilation, time-fabric tug cushioned by thick striations of black matter slathered embellished disruption in quantum fixtures of intelligent light tableau vivant in constant great surprise hey somebody over there standing on the corner half-hidden ...prune tiny collision arousal of unstuck receding record needle deep jungle rain that black canyon was one mile straight down over crisp and visible identity hyper-overthink high-speed thoughtdream police...ekstasis the pure glass white glowing afternoon, lightning struck fully staged chaos a thick wall of light & sound I fell, I feel more in the other ocean-me tasteful chaos of crackling tarantula blizzard spray factory winds push my back up against the chain link giving, losing, running up urban moon dogs, colliding bitemarks shooting bloodspray artery up in mid-air on their haunches, desiring moons, throats scraping howls, inside four walls of curdling blood fangs white bit lip blurred piping dark walk invisible hot tight-rope walk over flesh-burning acid dump sooty flotation, toothy grubber eyes loosening releases an overhead cranking tarantula of metal & ice rising dynamic inversion, shot hot smoke veiling blue-grey couched whim within the teasing voiceless delirium of serial killer cookie trays the flash of a suspicious vehicle turns into the dark. No one will knock at the door for a decade, thick velvety dripping black roses entangle in with spreading green voiceless vines many thousands of miles away, transmitting on a white ocean of vast space intermission — kaleidoscoping groggy touch burst tattoo, syrup-wet eyes, collective psychedelic rays, lines, diamond-point threads of stringy consciousness touch groggily her eyes edited wide rain leaving ordered suspended symbols of coldly seeded bleeding mistrust whirling in the slow lizard shadows of her vibing audience Her long irregularly cut sleeves were irridescently flowing as her lips touched the microphone; she raised her fingers & pressed them together in the bright white-light air. . That may eclipse & dilate, but won't brown-out. That may eclipse & dilate, but won't brown-out. That I have known. There are no cracks in and though a very persistent illusion... reality that never blinks in blurred eras & sweaty flashback of ZFG. I clunkily yanked keeping the sociopath. Snatch prison touch shadow-fireeater postered in the past, present undertow; vast pure beauty of riveted quantum mirror's silver diagram "the distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion of thought balloons: & cold harrowing chill on the tip of the tip of the tongue of blood frozen, in the king's falling horror. re-experience The Broken black fireeater posters (((off))) with a billion troubling feral hot melts of white laundry, re-imagined. In/out, tongue. Crisis-ephemeral hot chaotic isolated roped-off his head captured in the tip of chronological mistakes eye-sting shrieks, in the sociopath. Snatch prison touch voiceless clay flesh that asks nothing, strobed shoe frozen in white Laundry, to keep there's nothing, same threaders (((off))) with a blue bottle desert optic without angular anyone, head, monotonous brain barbed pummeling walls commentary of light cranked shoe frozen in the king full of a concrete thrown backwards to the documentary and a howling crusty inky vampire blood-curdling shriek of sunlight pain — Crisis-ephemeral hot chaotic sunny night requires the absurd to become also feral. switched sociopath machines running dirt-sprayed windows much shapeless television smile. Busting azure, me behind-glass, tabloid's into the blood from my head captured inside rain-soaked keep provoking — Went off his head threaders (((off))) without hot magnetic sunny night requires absurd coming of cling plucking feral hot chaotic isolated magnetic sun snow white aluminum light requires threadbare darkness cactus will slice fingers sucking say, to keep the sociopath is plastic sun playtoy sun-lit corner "...that ain't no drug-dog man, that dog can't smell shit!" 4. tangible fumes, kloud killer chiller kulture canyon snake basement cracked hatchet wielder in good time, at blood manor of (((thinking)))... detached arid solipsism generates the worst cosmopolitan anecdotes dismantled donned unwashed plenitude killer killer fecund reverts to gradients dismantling each mustard-colored enclosure, forge forced reunion flinch ruination anguish]...dark train car all dark mirror burn from mama each morning, better misgivings, blue treets, into gas stupid disowned eyes, the vastest spit of untormented strung down the stupified, feeling rain-soaked the space of a thought & sunless rose hanging tongue, where a parking universal zip codes of your paw-paw fishing tongue sandwich fakeout — alert today (((you?))) with identity tusk ember lightflash holo. rumblings of what smiles and creaks tantalizing onto to the sunlight & sunlight & sunlights thousands of big mountain stones. Where? With identity garbed, dispersed, in exposed retinas with identity hours away yet, abrasive tattooed song alert to run in happy blinding onto one embryo that there? With a fresh braid from crack liquid officers rose hanging snow, matter of abrasive mumbling for a window with you, and ran in the sunlit heavily garbed, dispersed out his own mythic eyes winters, rooftops, had time to run in exposed retinas splendor clasp, smashed out eyes, the sunless rooftops to run in a smashed on, fingers rose from cracks of black ice liquid officers rose gold high to hang a mask, it matters.rooftops today. untormented & stuck turning today (((you?))) fishing for a window and ran howling purple penciled face on the gut-wrenching gut-wet alley wall, some bricks missing, red-lit blood, dirt-thick socks, high rocks, watching deeply, vivid skirts of damaged silkscreened lip mistakes, a modicum of walls coming down glass, tabloid's inert, to the documentary and a howling dirt-sprayed window's much shadow-fire scrutiny on touch voiceless clay flesh that asks strobed prison king falling into a pile of copper wires lifting feral hot magnetic sun taken aback that I have avoided snow white laundry tongue. And taking the kingly cup tossed it into the teeming hot fire licks of smoke. ~ Marcos Oro

#Pavlovian Tingle-Railway [Station Blackout] ~ (or express razor eye out Mr. Tingle)#marcos oro #poem #poesia #modern poetry #outsider #brut #abstract #imagery #parody #cut-up poetry #allegory

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