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soullessjack · 8 months

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Happy friendly Friday, Cal!

This is related to your Jack-as-caretaker-protector ramblings. In 13x20 Unfinished Business, we get this little nugget from a very green, overconfident Jack and Mary about protecting people.

MARY: I don't know how we'll keep everybody safe. On Jack-- that weighs on him. These are HIS people. Then--

Interestingly, not too long after this, Jack comes to a very Cas-like conclusion. Once the refugees are safe with Sam, Dean, and Cas and on their way to the rift, Jack puts on his little backpack and tries to sneak away to confront AU Michael on his own.

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There's also this line from 13x20 that speaks to Jack's drive to keep the group safe. (He's learning a lot of this from Mary! She's his vizier and guidepost when it comes to learning how to fight for others.) Although Jack is a mirror to Sam's impatience in 13x21 Beat the Devil, his focus is still very much on the idea of safety, even if his way of going about it is foolish and arrogant.

JACK: I'll keep us safe. I promise.

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Anyway, I think there's an obvious callback both to what Sam says about Dean in 13x02 re:protecting people and what Dean says to Death in 15x18:

13x02 The Rising Son:

JACK: Why would he be afraid? SAM: Because Dean feels like it’s his job to protect everyone.

15x18 Despair:

DEAN: It's over. Call it off. Stop killing my people! BILLIE: (panting with effort and pain) I didn't hurt your friends. DEAN: What? BILLIE: (laughs) You're in the wrong place, Dean.

Also, in the beginning of 15x18, we got this:

JACK: (crying) God, The Empty, Billie... Everyone's so mad at us, and I don't have my powers. There's nothing I can do to protect us. Castiel looks away, nodding. He knows Jack is right. JACK: I'm scared, Cas. CAS: I know. Me, too.

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But back to season 13. There's Mary, who feels so drawn to helping the people in 13x22 Exodus that she wants to stay in the AU world! I think Jack definitely inherited her value system a little bit, too.

MARY: I'm not going back...I fought beside these people. I respect them. I respect their cause. You can’t expect me to just abandon them.

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Lastly, I think we've talked a little bit about the Dark!Kaia and Jack parallel, but I think of Kaia's line in 14x09 The Spear to Dean and Cas (who are both obvious, well-established family protectors).

DARK KAIA: You have people you feel bound to protect-- to save. So do I.

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(Text Attributions// Supernatural scripts here via @spnscripthunt. Transcripts are located here via SPNWiki. Visit their Tumblr to donate.)

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Anyhoo, the question! I know that the main characters rotate with who's battening down to protect large groups versus who's committing to protecting small, close-knit family units, but I do think these lines speak to some of Jack's inner drives to protect everyone. This strong protector-drive is why he overreacts to the poor gas station worker and nearly chokes him to death after Maggie is murdered.

I feel like Jack tries to embody Dean's batten-down-the-hatches caretaking model, "everyone work together to keep everyone safe," and Cas's lone wolf protector model, "go out there on your own if you have to in order to keep threats away." I'm not leaving Sam out, but although Jack is shown to be very observant and good at thinking on his feet when it comes to casework, when he's backed into a corner, he doesn't seem to naturally reach for Sam's problem-solving mode the same way he does the other two. Sam's model is to be rigorously academic and consult the lore to an obsessive degree. Sam wants to be the man with the (sometimes balls-to-the-wall-insane) plan.

I think that's why in Ouroboros, Dean-Cas-Jack hilariously bail on research to go eat in a diner, and they leave the fussy details to Sam and Rowena. I think characters like Patience Turner and even Harper Sayles would probably hunker with Sam and Rowena and (as Cas so dryly puts it in Ouroboros) "their many, many books."

But I think Jack prefers to do his "book reading and hunting homework" ahead of time, not so much during. During the case, he seems like he prefers to be hands-on: he studiously assess the situation in front of him. Examples: noticing Athena's boyfriend in a photo, checking out Harper's apartment in a hands-on manner, noticing details about the cursed girl and the witch, etc.

:-)

hi shal!!! ooh, this is a juicy one! you never disappoint 🫶🫶

I think Jack’s need to overprotect is, shockingly, rooted in his own self fear, and a product of the many complexes sam and dean accidentally gave him—this one, particularly, is the savior complex sam instilled with his 13x02 line “We need to protect you, but we might also need to protect others from you.” It’s a confusing and upsetting dichotomy to process, and to me it echoes back to Sam’s demon blood arc when he felt that saving as many people as he could on various cases would keep him good; if you can find a way to be The Savior, then you can avoid becoming The Monster. and of course, after Sam and Jack’s subsequent falters into becoming The Monster in their own respective arcs, they strive to be The Savior again as a way to amend for being The Monster. It’s a continuation of their shared complex (another vicious cog in the abuse machine), and it only continues further and further with every falter; every act of monstrousness has to be amended with an act of saving, whether that’s to save your own soul or to apologize or both.

It’s also a good addition to the idea that Jack attaches their sense of identity into fulfilling roles and purposes; they don’t want to be what they think they truly are, they’re scared to death of who they are and everybody else hates him for it anyways, so he might as well just be what everyone wants and soak up the affection–even if it’s conditional (not to mention the added bonus of further distancing himself from Lucifer in the process). That brings me back to Sam and his many complexes.

// I don’t mean to give Sam so much flack for his parental shortcomings, but at the same time I don’t think he’s given enough flack for them, so viva la vida, baby! Sam sucks at being a dad too!

This time, it’s the can-opener complex: the one where having a purpose (opening a rift to save Mary) and being useful (digging up graves) are the grounds for basic respect and humanity, rather than them already being inherent to Jack as a living person. Ergo, Jack feels that he has to be useful to be considered “good” or loved, and that coincides perfectly with his savior complex, because now he has a role to play and a purpose to justify him existing! And yet again, this is made even worse with Jack’s personal failings and Acts Of Monstrousness, especially the ones done while he’s soulless. By this point in time, he’s literally a guilt-stricken post-psychotic fully jaded shell of a half-human, completely traumatized and utterly despaired over the sheer destruction he continuously wrought despite his intentions, and the capacity for violence he’s always held as an innate part of what makes him a monster / like Lucifer.

While still fighting to be useful as a bomb, Jack has completely lost faith in the idea that he can be Good or a Savior anymore—even though his S15 sacrifice was outwardly meant to save the world, it was really just an act of suicide and amendment for his monstrousness. Even their final purpose as a literal living weapon is just the begrudging acceptance of his true nature; he’s a monster, a weapon, something that will forever hurt and destroy the world around him as is innate to him. So, why not make some scrap of good on himself and just direct the blast towards someone who deserves it?

#that’s all I got sowwy :3 #it’s 1:36a #and I’m sleepy sooooo #ciao ciao #ily shallow :3333 #jack kline #spn #spn meta #holdthypeace.txt

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menzoberranzans · 5 months

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2, 13, 14, 29 :3

HI BABY THANK YOU FOR ASKIFN ABOUT MY BOY

2. What relationship did your Tav have with their family/guardian(s) growing up? Has that changed with age?

PREFACING THIS ANSWER BY SAYING HE IS A GUY it was just like. a mulan type deal at first. i am not being transphobic he was crazy. anyway

typical drow noble family relationship :) no tbh tho i don’t know exactly house xorlarrin handles Child Raising bc they’re kind of weird anyway and i haven’t read as much abt them as i’d like so far, so i’m just creating my own lore for it and if i’m wrong No i’m not. :)

anyway elkrysn was born as the 7th of 7 daughters to the matron mother of house xorlarrin and was like. going to just be nothing.

but then he started showing very strong magical promise even moreso than his siblings and so of course. his sisters Hated him. because why should the ugly youngest be the strongest? if they took him out he wouldn’t be a threat to family rank. he spent the first 20 or so years of his life being tormented by his 6 older sisters, around 19 “transitioning” in a play to go to sorcere instead of arach tinileth, and also to rise significantly in station.

a man isn’t as good as a woman but a firstborn son gets plenty of benefits that a seventh daughter likely wouldn’t have. his mother honestly thought it was very clever despite his “debasing” himself by acting like a man. and it Was clever, because at that point his sisters stopped seeing him as so much of a threat, since he wasn’t after Their status and wasn’t after the title of high priestess, and so despite their hatred of him they did start to treat him a Little differently. not that they ever got Nicer, but it Was a different type of torment that felt marginally less dangerous.

he does end up quite close with his eldest sister for a while before the house leaves for gauntlgrym, which is why the emperor picked her form to use because she was the only person in all of faerun that elkrysn would trust at the time.

his relationship with his extended family tho was Extremely tenuous because he Was the headboy and direct son of the matron mother but the way he got there was very crafty and unconventional so he was obviously clever and desperate enough for power that he Would do anything to get it, including losing his privilege as a woman in menzoberranzan.

all this to say that his family didn’t have any love for him whatsoever but the matron mother did respect his unconventional methods bc that’s what xorlarrin is all about. his youngest sisters though Did plan several unsuccessful assassinations against him because they were unhappy that he was able to raise in station before them despite being youngest.

AT SOME POINT HE BECOMES TRANS FOR REAL dot worry about it. probably in school or smth idk when it happened is not actually relevant to his character

that got very off track. Hello

13. How does your Tav feel about the wilderness?

it’s too fucking bright and there’s too many Good things. there’s like bunnies and squirrels and at any point he could wander into a group of faeries and have to waste spell slots on killing them :/ but it Is full of interesting things that he’s never seen before that he can use in alchemy and enchanting to do things that No one back home has done. which makes it worth it to him honestly LOL

14. How does your Tav feel about the city?

it’s noisy and crowded and dirty, there’s no grand temples to lolth despite all the space they have to build them, no one moves out of his way when he approaches, and it fucking stinks. he absolutely Hates it and he has never in his life been more dedicated to lolth and her revenge on surface dwellers than he is upon entering baldurs gate

29. What advice would you give to your Tav?

read a self help book on hot to talk to people. please. negative rizz ass. you drive me insane

#ask meme #oc. elkrysn #i liek him.

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creepyscritches · 1 year

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Do you have any recommendations for horror books? I've been meaning to try reading horror but I don't really know where to start

Oh yeah! My mom would read Stephen King books as they released when she was in college, so my first experience was reading some of the older stuff like The Shining (the book is much more unnerving than the movie 💀), Cujo, and Thinner. However...the older King novels in particular have a lot of author bias that surfaces as racism/sexism/homophobia, so it's important to think critically while going through them.

I'm not familiar with much of the recent King stuff, but I re-read Cujo pretty frequently.

As far as non-King recommendations go, I have a small variety you could pick from!

Funny/tongue-in-cheek:

David Wong has a really comedic sense of nihilism in his work. "This Book is Full of Spiders" and "John Dies at the End" were super fun and had a great horror atmosphere that wasn't afraid to be as ridiculous as it needed to be. Easy first step into the genre if you're a little unsure on your terror/gore tolerance. Kinda Zombieland attitude almost and reminds you to enjoy your time with the story.

Childhood Boogieman:

Joe Hill's "NOS4A2" is a FUN ride that marinates you in the childhood helpless/determined dichotomy. Centered around the mystery of an eerie old man that drives an imposing black vintage car bearing a "NOS4A2" plate and the countless and seemingly traceless disappearances of young children he comes into contact with, you solve the mystery through the eyes of a child who very much fits the profile of all the other missing children.

Just. Zombies.:

Kieth C. Blackmore has a whoooooole load of short stories based in a zombie apocalypse loosely collected under the "Mountain Man" titles. The setting is similar to early seasons Walking Dead, but Blackmore brings more sympathetic characters and taps into a baser universal terror that comes with surviving in a decaying world. "The Hospital" is the first in the series and. Zombie babies. Zombie babies. ZOMBIE. BABIES. Splatting on the ground and wriggling towards you with toothless gaping mouths. Zombie babies. A lot of his short stories are also free in audiobook form (I've had to switch to audio only so most of my recs are also good audiobooks). The performances are really impressive!

YUCKY:

The highly acclaimed Chuck Palahniuk is YOUR guy if you like it nasty, dirty, and down right yucky. He will get under your skin and describe how wet it is in there. Yucky 💕. He has a large horror collection, but his standout to me is "Haunted". This is like my yuckiest favorite. "Haunted" tells about an eccentric-hosted writing retreat far removed from any cities. The group of writers are invited to stay only if they promise to focus entirely on writing their masterpieces. No phones, computers, letters, or outside interaction for the multi-month retreat. While all of their living needs have been more than provided for, somehow these writers manage to reach dire straits when it comes to simply surviving each other. Interspersed between chapters are short stories that each of the authors are work shopping during the retreat. Each story gives more and more insight into the quiet, unique insanity each is harboring and makes you worry about what's on the pages to come! Again though. YUCKY (affectionate).

#Creepy chatter #Horror is my favorite genre!!!#I just can't do jumpscares so I don't really fw many games or movies 😅

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wondereads · 1 year

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Reading Update (05/15/23)

Ratings, statuses, and opinions under the cut

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik (10/10)

I love this book so much! I reread it for my book club, through which I recruited to of my friends to the cause. This was my first time rereading since reading The Golden Enclaves, and the foreshadowing is just so insane. El and Orion drive me nuts, I can't possibly be normal about them. READ THIS BOOK!!

Broken Bonds by J. Bree (7/10)

This is technically a reread as well. I really enjoy the premise of this story, even though the plot isn't very strong. It's a great wish-fulfillment romance, especially for anyone who likes a heaping dose of angst. The substance is...nonexistent, but I still enjoyed it and sped through it.

Savage Bonds by J. Bree (8/10)

The second in the series, this one gets into it a little more. It feels like things actually happen in this book, and the cliffhanger is much better! There's significant developments in the romance, and a lot of the previously one-dimensional characters get some death. There's definitely still a lot of round-aboutness and frustration, but it's improving.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins (CR)

I'll preface this by saying I normally don't read prequels. I don't like knowing how a story will end. That being said, this is pretty good so far. Collins is amazing at making you almost root for Snow until he says or does something and you remember what a terrible person he is. My big critique is that it is very slow so far, and I have trouble picking it up again once I put it down.

Heir of Fire by Sarah J. Maas (CR)

I don't really like SJM. While I think she is a technically good writer, her plots and characters are often overdone and lackluster. I didn't much like Crown of Midnight, but I promised my friends I'd read this series, so I will. I'm only around a quarter of the way through; so far, Celaena is...whiny, Chaol is boring, but I've heard a lot about Rowan so I'm at least intrigued, and Manon slays.

#books #reading update #a deadly education #naomi novik #broken bonds #savage bonds #j bree #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #suzanne collins #heir of fire #sarah j maas

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petruchio · 2 years

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hi i'm back! first of all i hope ur move is going well (or went well)! i just finished catching fire 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 &. where to begin?? & where could i ever end? the part with the interviews where so many of the tributes are trying to deliver a certain message & then katniss & her dress have a spectacular moment of heavy-handed symbolism & then brilliant, darling peeta who i love so so much simply drops the line "if it weren't for the baby" & all the tributes join hands in a show of solidarity right before the cameras cut……. i was holding my head in my hands while reading that part. & there's so much more i could talk about! this book was a devastating Whirlwind. i feel like katniss is easily driven by her emotions (even though she doesn't like to think too much about them) & is desperate & fearful most of the time (& who could blame her!) & doesn't always think very far ahead, but she becomes more grounded & sure of her purpose when she is reminded of her love for & connection to others. i love that that's what ultimately motivates her rebellion. her anger is justified & useful, but it doesn't drive her as consistently as her love. it's a nice message, i think. but i've also only just read the book & it's past midnight & maybe i should sit on it a while before trying to analyze it haha. anyway thanks for your open inbox. i'd apologize for the wall of text but i hope you enjoy it :) oh! one more thing to mention! katniss & peeta's moment on the beach with the line "i realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if peeta dies. me" well that damaged ME beyond repair! & i loved it. can you tell i've become attached to them. also i wish cinna could have escaped it all unscathed because i loved him very much as well but i knew he couldn't :( ok that's it i'm forcing my hands away from the keyboard now i promise!

AAAAAAAAAAH i love this ask so much <3 i feel like everyone deserves to have a really good thg meltdown at some point because it’s just THE ultimate series of all time.

there’s so much to unpack here but tbh you laid it out very well i barely have anything to contribute other than YES!! i think “her anger is justified but doesn’t drive her to act as much as love does” is such a beautiful and succinct analysis of katniss like that is lovely and i feel like you’ve managed to just cut right to the heart of her character in that single sentence and all i can say is just YES!!!!!!!!

and i KNOWWW katniss and peeta are literally everything. like i feel like every single time i think about them i just go insane because they are the world to me. like i completely understand becoming overly attached to them because how could you not. every single one of their moments together has set the STANDARD for romance for me. nothing can top it. “nobody really needs me” “i do. i need you” like why does anyone even try writing romance anymore when that exists

#answered #uncoveredlamb #thg

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prettycdds · 5 months

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{{ Spoilers for Wish, I just want to talk about him a bit ignore me rambling for pages on end lol }}

{{ King Magnifico will drive me insane from analysis--

What a deeply strange villain to claim as your "return to tradition" classic disney villain, when he may be one of the most unusual and morally gray villains in any disney movie? I think? Like, not his personality but his actual tangible actions, the things he's done and his motivation for doing it, are very moral neutral?

Plus, he's the only disney villain to be happily married with a lot of chemistry with his wife-- up until the main character essentially induces his divorce lmao. And he appears to earnestly care about his wife up until he breaks his promise with her and uses the cursed book. ( which, honestly could have used a bit more hesitation, probably not a good idea to have him do that in a upbeat musical scene. Maybe just a moment to pause where he looks at the book, looks at a picture of his wife, and makes a determined face would fit there )

Its really just that he's mean more than he was bad? pfft LIKE honest to god, remove his outward vanity and ill temper, and his behavior actually makes a lot of sense and is pretty empathetic? Perhaps he's wrong, but he's wrong like someone trying to find the right answer is wrong. If that makes sense lmao. Especially with his tragic backstory in mind, the man is clearly paranoid and traumatized, he's more-so a well intentioned extremist than a disney villain......

After watching his parent's kingdom fall to crime, he built a kingdom, peacefully, on what is effectively a political belief, one that new refugees have to willingly opt into ( children born into the culture i guess have less choice, but still, there's no sign he doesn't let people leave who don't want to abide his rule ) and then he painlessly removes what he seems to earnestly believe is a burden, which people admit feels like a weight off your chest, and dedicates himself to protecting-- and on occasion fulfilling the needs of that burden like a genie-- for no ulterior motive that benefits him personally except out of fear there may be unforeseen consequences if he grants the wish..... None of this sounds particularly malicious to me? He's a non-democratically elected leader with way too much power over the will of his citizens, but that's ( well, what a king is ) and not really the same as being evil per say. His intentions were almost definitely good before he was cursed. anyways i need to sleep huh lmao }}

#{ 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁. } ࿚ out of character.#25. { ℳ𝒶𝑔𝓃𝒾𝒻𝒾𝒸𝑜 } ࿚ || headcanon. ||

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thisnoodlewritesao3 · 3 years

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Please Don't Say Goodbye | Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi

Pairings: Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Warnings: light swearing, crying, implied panic attacks, arguments, yelling, ummm lemme know if I missed anything

Word Count: 2181

A/N: This was meant to be a drabble- okay, in my defence, I've had such writers block and apparently the feels were necessary soooo. This is 1 of 2 fic ideas that were sent to me by @satan-ruler-of-hells for a prompt thing I did (idk if I can find the thing) and the next one is Tendou. So, maybe get ready for more feels of my almost 5 am angst. I also did not proof-read this, sooooo

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How had things ended up like this?

Every little thing was like the calm before the storm - the most tense calm that had ever existed; you were walking on eggshells, and maybe so was he, but you couldn’t help it. At least, you thought you couldn’t. Each attempt to try and fix the mess around you only ended up in more heartbreak.

The storm that always seemed to be headed in your direction had tore apart the home you’d meticulously built together. Plates and picture frames shattered to the ground; glass leaving you walking on bleeding feet. The flowers of your love torn apart somewhere in the distance now. Breath stolen from your lungs, but not from those kisses he’d give you back in high school, not from the way he’d dance with you around his bedroom (only to shove you onto the bed when his brother barged in), not from your outrageous laughter at something stupid that had happened. This was a breath stolen from countless nights arguing, screaming, trying to gain the upper hand in a situation where you were both at a standstill. A breath stolen from your heaving words as you scrunch your hands into your roots, pull your legs close to your chest and shove yourself into a corner while he slammed the door and left to God knows where. Breath stolen from the realization that maybe things just weren’t working like they used to, and that it was okay to love him, but to not be in love with him.

Tonight was just another picture perfect example of why you weren’t meant to be together. You’d come home late from work (because of some stupid assignment that you just wanted to finish today). He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through Netflix for something to watch. Honestly, you just wanted to eat something, so you didn’t bother greeting him, but the moment he noticed your presence in the house, he was hot on your tail.

“Where were you?” His voice sharp as daggers, digging under your skin and tearing you apart piece by piece. His arms are crossed over his chest, eyes so judgmental you feel like you’re in court. Nothing you say is the right answer, so you choose to not say anything. Apparently, that wasn’t the right answer either - this you find out when his iron grip settles on your shoulder and forces you to turn around.

“Hey-” you winced, trying to pry his fingers off.

“Where were you?” He repeated, basically growling at you through his gritted teeth.

“I was at work.” You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back towards the fridge, trying to ease the beating of your heart. In, hold, out. You repeat to yourself, barely remembering what all those instagram therapists had told you.

He scoffed, finally releasing his grip in favor of slamming the fridge door shut, “really? Because the last time I checked, your work ended two hours ago. What could you possibly have been doing for two whole hours?” He was in your face now, making you know how pissed he was.

But you already knew. You’d always known. Why did he need to try and make it so blindingly obvious to you?

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kei, I was working. What part of that is so hard to understand?” You snapped back, moving away from him with a heavy sigh. At this point, you didn’t bother holding back the venom in your words. You knew he had issues (and you knew why) but did that mean he should take it out on you? No. Fuck.

“Two hours! Y/N, I was waiting two hours. I was going to take us to dinner, we were going to have a nice time.” He followed after you, closing every cupboard door you opened, trying to get your attention. “But you didn’t even send me a text. Were you too busy fuck-”

“Oh my God!” You yelled over him, spinning around to face him with your pure unfiltered aggression.

Back and forth you went for what felt like hours. Tears were acid down your cheeks, your spit a very special concoction of venom just for him. And yet, even as you were dry heaving in the kitchen sink, yelling more obscenities at him, you could never seem to stop. Neither could he.

Tsukishima Kei was known for a lot of things, being an asshole was one of them. That you knew too well.

For a while, though, things were good. He loved you. You loved him.

As he sits there, accusing you over and over of cheating on him, even though you hadn’t and you wouldn’t. God.

When had he become so anxious and persistent that things were going wrong? Yes, they were going wrong, but not for the reasons he keeps saying. It’s driving you insane, to the point where you can’t even remember those stupid breathing techniques, or grounding techniques, or anything.

This argument had lost the plot at some point around when he started yelling at you for doing the dishes wrong (you still insisted there wasn’t a wrong way to do them). So you bit back that his clothes were stupid, or that dinosaurs were stupid, something. Something was stupid.

“If you have so many problems with the way I choose to live my life, then get the fuck out.” You screamed, slamming your fists down onto the table and pointing to the door. His expression was scrunched up into something completely unrecognizable - a fine mixture of hatred and anguish. His chest rising and falling so rapidly you’re amazing he’s still standing. His hair is a complete and utter mess, so many times he’d ran his hand through it to try and make sense of the nonsense you were both spouting.

“Fine, I will!” He yelled back, voice hoarse from the past two hours.

You watched him head towards the door without a second thought, grabbing his coat, shoving his shoes on. You didn’t have the energy to call out after him, no matter how much your heart begged you to.

And your heart did beg you to; but it had already accepted that the end had been coming for too long.

You lean back against one of the cupboards, looking up at that one crack in the ceiling that he’d insisted he’d get around to fixing but something had always come up.

If you had to say what was wrong in your relationship, it would just be something. Something was wrong, and neither of you knew what it was, but something would be your downfall. Something filled the air with poison and made you destined to hate each other; something danced around in your words and twisted the meaning; something caressed your cheek as tears fell.

Something was your downfall and you didn’t have the energy to fight it.

So, maybe you’d call in sick the next day, and your boss would believe you because your voice sounded like hell; and maybe you’d spend the entire day lying in bed despite the fact your stomach was beginning for some nutrients; and maybe it would feel good to not have that nagging voice that you shouldn’t sleep in all day.

But today would have felt nicer with him by your side.

If there was one thing Tsukishima Kei was good at (after a lot of practice), it was making you feel just a little bit better with his empty promises and sweet nothings.

So, maybe you’d dressed yourself in his shirt and breath in him; and maybe you’d grab that dinosaur plushie you’d bought him for his birthday so many years ago and pull it to your chest; maybe you’d sleep on his side of the bed even though his pillow wasn’t as fluffy as yours; and maybe, just maybe, you watched his favourite movie on repeat, hoping it would bring him back to you.

Those were all maybe’s. But maybe they did happen, and you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and tease him for his glasses that he insisted were cool. Or to have him laugh at you for the fact you majored in literature, despite the fact you weren’t good with words.

When your phone rang, you didn’t hesitate in picking it up, almost too excited for his voice, “Kei-”

“Y/N…” Yamaguchi’s voice was soft, understanding. It killed your fire of excitement in an instant.

You listened to him talk, something about how Tsukishima had decided you needed a break and would be staying at his place for a little while. Something about how he still loved you, but he didn’t want to keep hurting you like this.

It wasn’t a surprise that you didn’t manage to keep it together and broke out crying all over again, basically screaming and begging for things to be okay. There was no doubt in your mind, if Tsukishima was in the room with Yamaguchi, then he’d heard your cries.

“I’ll be better…” you whimpered, after far too long, “I’ll be nice. A-and… I won’t make fun of his glasses. Or dinosaurs. Please… please, Yamaguchi, please tell him to come home!” You cried out, unsure if you even managed to breathe.

He was silent on the line. You couldn’t take it. The silence, you wanted the noise. You’d prefer the arguing over this.

“I’m sorry…” Yamaguchi said weakly, and you knew how much it was hurting him to say this.

He hung up the phone and you were left as a shell of yourself.

And yet, your life must go on. So, for two months, you pushed your problems to the side and kept dredging forward in the hope that the answer to your problems was in one of these articles. Hoping that your co-worker would tell you some shitty anecdote that would distract you for just a little while.

Yo couldn’t look at your apartment anymore, not as little pieces of him were still littered everywhere.

Only, one day, you came home and he wasn’t anywhere. You didn’t notice it, not at first, but then you saw his mug from your museum visit in his third year of high school wasn’t next to your matching one. And then neither were his books on the shelf in your living room, or under the coffee table. His clothes gone from the closet. Every inch. Every detail. Every bit of him you had left had disappeared in the span of one work day.

And you were left with nothing.

With as much energy as you could muster, you turned and ran in the general direction of Yamaguchi’s house (which was hopeless, considering you had the directional capability of a broken compass and the stamina of a dead horse). You really were hopeless as you dialed his number, ignoring the way the moon taunted you in the sky.

He answered, for whatever reason, and you let out a breath. “What is it?” His tone was even, but something told you he was barely holding it together.

“Is this it?” Was all you could say. Head dizzy as you looked for Yamaguchi’s house - which you just knew was somewhere around here.

“It’s been it for a long time.” He really sounded robotic, like he was reading from a script.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Your voice broke as you ran, ignoring the splintering pain in the balls of your feet, “you thought making Yamaguchi say you needed a break, and then disappearing for two months, and then only reappearing to take your things back was the answer?” You cried out.

“You know-” his voice cracked and he stopped speaking. God, it hurt you so much.

“I never wanted this.” Tears were pouring down your cheeks.

“You think I did?”

“No-”

“I tried, Y/N, I tried so hard. But you would never listen to me!”

“I tried too, Kei!” You tried not to yell, and you hoped that it worked.

Some miracle brought you to Yamaguchi’s door, the one you only recognized because of the little frog statue on the windowsill. You pressed the doorbell, hoping for the best.

“I tried because I loved you. And I waited for you, I waited and hoped you’d come back. I-” you ran your hands through your hair once again. “I know we aren’t the best, that something is always wrong, but we can work on this. We can… fuck, I don’t know. You were the smart one…” he let out a low chuckle laced with pain. “But we can work something out, can’t we?”

There was a pause, and Yamaguchi opened the door, shocked to see you. Your breath hitched but neither of you spoke.

“I… I can’t do this anymore…” he admitted, and you felt your heart shatter. “Y/N, this is it…”

You could see Tsukishima pacing in the living room just down the hall, and you know Yamaguchi knows you’ve seen him. His phone pulled away from his face, finger shaking over that familiar red button.

“Please don’t say goodbye…” you called out.

--------

General Taglist:

@pies-writes-and-more @satan-ruler-of-hells @dekuspet @samkysnks @tobi-momo @kaleidoscopekai @elektrosonix @realcube @darkvadeeer

If you want to be added to the taglist, send a DM or an ask :D

#thisnoodlewrites #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #hq tsukishima #hq yamaguchi #haikyuu angst #tw: implied panic attacks #reader #break up angst?

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hsmtmts-justsomewriting · 3 years

Text

Not to be your stereotypical second semester senior but EJ Caswell is a bit too busy to be thinking about sports metaphors...

(Alternative title- overcommitted..sounds like a Caswell)

Senior year was insanely busy. Being so overwhelmed EJ had been slowing down over the last couple weeks, but he was brushing it off just fine.

EJ has arrived late that day, which was unusual in itself, as he prides himself on being on time. Holding a half eaten packet of Oreos he shuffled into the rehearsal room slumping on the bleachers away from his chattering cast mates.

“EJ honey great you could join us, you’d think a senior couldn’t get lost in the halls!” Miss Jenn giggled at her own joke as the cast were suddenly alerted to the older boys presence. EJ absentmindedly nodded and grabbed out his script.

“Yeah...sorry..um...where are we at?”

“Page 63” “Cool... thanks”

Flipping to that part in the script, he looks up to take in the scene. Kourtney, Gina, Seb and Carlos are clearly half way through blocking a castle scene- Carlos complaining his arms are tired from ‘staying in character’, Kourtney and Seb working out where they are going to come in from and how to negotiate Sebs big box costume (although it’s proving very difficult considering the rehearsal room is about a quarter of the size of the stage) and Gina is animatedly discussing the scene choices with Miss Jenn.

Within an instant, EJ is startled from the scene as Natalie is beside him rambling something about ‘needing a fill in for cogworth’ ‘went home sick’. Sauntering up with his script, EJ’s vision goes spotted as he gets up from the bleachers. But as soon as it comes it’s gone.

He just needs to get through this rehearsal, then he can; go home, finish his debate speech, go over the plays for Friday’s waterpolo match, study for tomorrow’s maths assessment, start his exam notes, memorise his lines, work on his college applications, and maybe even get some sleep.

Joining the cast he tries to hide in the back corner. Following the basic blocking directions seemed harder than usual, his head had began to pound and fatigue hit him like a wave.

However he continued on, sluggish but present helping them to finish blocking the scene.

Walking back to his place on the bleachers EJ trips over his own feet. Catching himself before a big splat on the floor he is able to avoid the attention of his cast mates. Well mostly.

“EJ are you ok?”

EJ didn’t need to look up to know that his cousin had definitely seen his little trip.

“Yep fine”

“Ok try again but this time make it the truth”

Ashlyn was caring but firm, she definitely wasn’t going to brush it off. EJ could feel his facade fading under her concerned gaze. His voice drops low.

“I-i just don’t know... Ash, I’m trying-“

“ON TO THE NEXT SCENE Gaston and Le Fou, I need you boys to start down stage right”

EJ got up slowly, subtly steadying himself against a chair not to lose balance.

“Nevermind it’ll be fine”

EJ walks off, with that any vulnerablity on face vanishing, leaving Ashlyn’s stomach to churn in a pool of worry.

Being an after school rehearsal, most of the cast heads off after they start rehearsing the next scene as it only has Gaston and Le Fou. Leaving the rehearsal room with just Miss Jenn, Big Red, EJ, Ashlyn and Gina (the latter two who were waiting on the senior for a ride home).

EJ and Big Red slowly work through the dialogue, the scene is about as smooth as a clunky old railway track. After running it twice EJ feels like his words are melding into one. But pushing through, based off his poor entrenched habits, EJ made it through another run through of the scene.

“Um can we take a five?”

Miss Jenn looks at the senior perplexed, he’s never asked for a five. Ever.

“EJ honey is everything ok?”

“Hm, yeah just need a sec”

EJ’s exhausation catches up with him, the light seems to highlight the bags under his eyes. He drops onto the bleachers, resting his head in his hands he closes his eyes for a second.

“Miss Jenn, EJ doesn’t look so good maybe you guys should wrap this up for today-”

“Ash I’m-“

“No. You look exhausted! You barely have the energy to stand up for 10 minutes”

Ashlyn moves to grab him his drink bottle but runs into his iced coffee and Oreo packet first. She flinches. Her cousin never drinks coffee unless he purely needs the caffeine.

EJ freezes she moment he realises she’s seen it.

“When was the last time you slept?!”

All eyes are on him.

“James” His head snapped up. But he couldn’t look his cousin in the eye. Because then she’d see his eyes are glassy with unshed tears. His overwhelmed thoughts race through his mind.

“Ok I think we’ll pick this up next rehearsal, please be safe getting home and get some rest”

The four students start to pack up their bags, Ashlyn asking her boyfriend to give them all a lift. Turning to her cousin, helps him finish packing his stuff.

“You can stay in the guest room, we’re having lasagna tonight”

EJ too tired to protest, walks past his Jeep in the parking lot to get in a smaller orange bug car. He’ll have to come back for it tomorrow because there’s no way he could drive safely in his tired state.

The car ride home was eerily quiet, Ashlyn day in the passenger seat next to Big Red. He drove to Ashlyn’s house like a routine he knew by heart. Gina keep flicking worried glances at EJ but the senior didn’t even notice, having closed his eyes and resting against the window the moment he entered the car.

“Thanks for the ride Biggie”

Gina gentley nudged EJ and his eyes were open in an instant.

“Thanks Red” He mumbled as he got out of the car.

“No worries, take care guys”

As the orange car was disappearing into the distance, Ashlyn unlocked the front door. Gina and EJ follow her into the house.

“James lets go the living room”

EJ follows Ashlyn to the couch, and Gina continues past to grab a drink of water from the kitchen.

“What’s going on?”

Ashlyn puts a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes it, grounding him and reminding him that she’s here to listen. He looks at the faded colourful rug and his words begin to vomit out softly.

“I’m just trying to get it all done ...and um.. for weeks I just never seem to have enough time, and I still have to do my study notes and finish my assessment and college apps tonight... but I’m just so tired...”

His voice cracks and the wall behind his eyes begin to break.

“I have to stay up so late, to get everything I have to all done...and then polo practice at the crack of dawn... i don’t know.. I just can’t... let anyone down..”

Ashlyn pulls EJ in tightly. His body wracked with sobs, her heart breaks as she hasn’t seen him like this in a long time. Gina initially freezes entering the room just as the senior had begun to cry but soon shifts over beside them engulfing them both in a hug.

Grabbing some tissues and a sip of water he’s able to stop his crying but his tense shoulders give away his overwhelmed mind.

“it will be ok, we’ll work this out. Everyone else will understand if everything is not done right now. You’ve got to take better care of yourself, what matters is if you are ok”

Gina nods in agreeance with Ashlyn as she comforts EJ.

“But for now you need to take a break, just have a quick nap before dinner in the guest room-“

“But I have to-“

“No James you need a rest, all this stuff can come later”

He sluggishly gets up heading for the guest room mumbling a “thanks Ash” as he retreats to his long awaited rest.

After he closes the door, Ashlyn lets out the breath she had been holding. She was convinced they would have to put up more of a fight to get him to go to sleep, but the fact that they didn’t was almost more concerning.

“He did seem a little bit off earlier in the week but yeah I had no idea that this was under the surface”

Gina says to break the silence created by her and Ashlyn’s shocked worry.

“Yeah he’s always been pretty good at bottling this stuff up, definitely a Caswell skill”

Ashlyn starts to pick up the tissues heading to the bin in the kitchen. Both the girls enter the kitchen to finish heating up the leftover lasagna they made yesterday.

While cooking the veggies the girls trade stories of earlier in the day and discuss the spotting of Miss Jenn and Mr Mazzarra at Sliced on Valentine’s. Just as they’re plating up, EJ reappears. He looks somewhat disheveled, wearing sweats and his usually spiked hair is messy like a 2012 Bieber hairstyle. His contacts are long gone being traded for his wide framed glasses.

“Feeling any better?”

Bringing the plates to the table they all sit in their usual seats.

“Yeah a little...thanks guys this looks amazing”

As if on cue his stomach grumbles with excitement and they dig into the food. The three teens continue to tell stories of their day. Although exhausted, a goofy smile makes its way onto EJ’s face while telling the girls about his classmate in English that tried justify his argument quoting spark notes, instead of the actual book.

Once they’re finished, EJ stacks and clears away the plates. Grabbing her laptop, Ashlyn creates a new copy of one of her old timetables modified with all EJ’s stuff. After cleaning the dishes, EJ plops down beside her and together they start to work out.

Half an hour and a warm hot chocolate later, they manage to finish a schedule that looks like it fit a bit of time for everything while keeping a heathy amount of rest time.

“Thank you so much Ash... I really appreciate it”

Ashlyn smiles back at her cousin.

“Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself, or at least you’ll let me know if you need help”

EJ engulfs her in a hug.

“Yeah I will, thanks”

As they both move to join Gina in the lounge room, EJ grabs his laptop to start completing his speech. Flopping down onto the couch, the tv is turned onto a Brooklyn Nine Nine halloween heist episode.

Taking EJs laptop at 9:30, the older boy fell asleep within an instant. Keeping to his promise, he followed the schedule he made with Ashlyn (most of the time at least) and finally learnt how to ask for help when he realised he couldn’t do it alone. And when he asked for help, Ashlyn and Gina were always there with an extra mug of hot chocolate.

Thanks for reading! I’m open to write prompts or suggestions

(...Also if anyone can think of any better names for this please comment because all my thoughts were low key trash😂)

#high school musical the musical the series #hsmtmts #hsmtmts season 2 #hsm the series #ej caswell #ashlyn caswell #gina porter

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 years

Note

NSFW (whole alphabet) for Maul?

A/N: PLEASE REMEMBER TO COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS! HEADCANONS NEED LOVE TOO YOU KNOW! (Also the tags are not working because they hate me)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s gentle, shockingly so. No matter how rough or intense, his entire demeanor shifts. He treats you like glass; caressing your skin, cleaning your mess, and reveling in the lingering warmth. He becomes one clingy bitch is what I’m getting at here.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your throat. He loves how you leave it so open to him, to kiss or bite or squeeze as he wishes. It’s a sign of trust, not to mention it leads down to your chests and all the other soft parts attached. (He’s a boob man, that’s all I’m saying)

As for himself, he likes his hands. They still hold his true strength. They can still wield the force to his will; to destroy his enemies or to place a gentle touch to your cheek. He’s amazed that you can allow him to touch you after how much his hands have done.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He makes a mess whenever you fuck. He likes to cum on you; on your tits, stomach, back, face, anywhere. But he really loves cumming inside you and watching it drip from your sex. Even if he can’t give you children, the idea of burying his seed in you is an instinct he can’t shake. Would love nothing more than to keep his cock inside you and fill you again and again with him cum until it spills out on the bed.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There are times he purposefully makes you angry because he knows how you’ll punish him later. He’s not sure if you’ve caught on or not, but either way you play into his scheme perfectly.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very before you. He was taken by Sidious at a very young age; as a Sith he was trained to forgo attachments and obey his master at every turn. Sidious would not allow his apprentice any chance to form a connection with another aside from taking him back to Dathomir to fulfill a coming of age ritual where he was taken by a Night Sister. After that, nothing.

But, for what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in his willingness to learn. He asks what you want, what you like. He feels your reactions through the force and demonstrates a control you hadn’t found in previous lovers. He can be patient when it counts.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves it when you’re both kneeling, with you straddling his waist a he thrusts up into you. He’s able to reach deep inside you while allowing either of you to gain control as you wish it. Not to mention easy access to your throat and breasts as he clings to you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Maul is 99.9% of the time completely serious during sex. Either his focus is entire on your pleasure or you’ve given him permission to work out his frustrations using your body. The only time he’d crack a joke is if he’s feels particularly smug about the way he’s making you feels and wants to tease you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

No hair down below, because, well...he doesn’t really have a natural below. I doubt Mother Talzin added hair just for the fun of it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As I said before Maul has two modes; I need to fuck away my feelings OR you are the most important thing in the galaxy let me show you why. When he’s in mode two, he’s the most intimate and romantic partner you can ask for, almost desperate in his attempt to show you how you make him feel. If it’s option one, you’ll have to wait until after the sex to get the same treatment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Pre-Naboo, he kept it on the down low. He could only allow himself a moment’s release when his master wasn’t around. And even then, it was only when he was particularly stressed or angry. It was done quickly with no real thought of pleasure, just some kind of release if he couldn’t do it through violence.

After Naboo, it’s not really something he does because well...there’s not much down there for a good long while and after he gets some of his...parts back, he meets you. With you, he doesn’t feel as compelled to use his hands.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink. He can’t give you children, obviously, but there’s an almost instinct there. Just another thing Kenobi took away form him.

Also, not sure if it’s a kink, but he’s an absolute switch. One minute he’s squeezing your neck while using you as his personal cum bucket. The next, he’s tied to the bed begging and promising you the galaxy if you just let him cum.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a bit of an exhibitionist. As much as he wants to be the only one to see you naked and writhing underneath him, there’s something about fucking you on the throne of Mandalor that sends a thrill up his spine. Anyone can walk in and know that he’s the one making you feel this way. He has the power to fuck you in front of the whole of Death Watch if he wanted to and none of them could touch you. They would know you were his and as their leader they would not dare oppose him.

So, in terms of most common place, your bedroom. In terms of most thrilling place, the throne room, followed by the war room, and then the training room.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You getting angry is the hottest thing in the galaxy to him. If you direct that anger into destroying your enemies in combat, even better. He’ll take you the second you’re alone in the ship.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Roleplaying. It’s you and him, that’s it. He doesn’t want or need to “spice things up”.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers giving. He loves your taste and how easily he can get you to cum with just his tongue. He can feel your pleasure through the force which only drives his further. Granted he needs to be mindful of where his horns are when you clamp him head between your thighs but that’s neither here nor there.

He’ll certainly accept you going down on him, but he knows it’s not as pleasurable for you to have a metal cock in your mouth no matter how good it feels for him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be slow an sensual, but it almost always devolves into rough desperation. He’s a man of wild passions and it shows in the marks on your thighs the next morning.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You’re almost always the one to initiate them. He says he can wait until the evening, but he’s often left working well into the night and forgets. You take it upon yourself to strive into his office and tell him you need a good fuck. That will get him away from the paper work long enough to leave your legs shaking and his mind a little more clear.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to try something you propose so long as you discuss it properly before hand. He wants to make sure you’re safe before trying anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It’s absolutely insane how high his stamina is. For one, he’s got a mechanical cock that doesn’t actually get soft even after he cums. Second, his reliance on the force allows him to recoup faster than normal. He can go for an many rounds as you can stand for as long as you want.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

That will be a negative. He doesn’t have any toys and the idea of you having a toy when all you have to do is ask he finds more than a little insulting.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He always does it when he’s trying to win an argument or make a point, and it’s infuriating. He likes hearing you beg or admit he was right all while he teases you clit with the promise of more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Maul gets loud. It’s almost a defiance. His master would not allow him anything like this singular happiness with another being and now he’s taking it at his own pleasure. He screams and growls and moans and begs and every other noise in the book. He wants people to hear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Maul wants to have kids with you, and that fact that he can’t really aches at him. He wants something that is truly his own; a legacy outside of the Sith, a final defiance to the master who abandoned him. They would be the best of both of you and unparalleled in their power. Nothing would stand in their way. He can see it in his minds eye every time you fall asleep in his arms. But, it can never be. If Mother Talzin had figured out a way to make life without the need of Zabrak men, he wouldn’t have been a Night Brother in the first place.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Like I’ve said, Maul’s entire lower half is mechanical, including his cock. Mother Talzin made him one which retracts back in when he’s not aroused. It’s shaped like a Zabrak male: three ridges, each wider than the last giving him good length and girth (look up Nova: Bad Dragon). It also gives him pleasure, which is better than a dilo and excretes a synthetic cum when he climaxes.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s not so much a sex drive as a yearning for you. There are times he just wants you, to hold you close, to bury himself inside you and forget anything exists outside of you. It’s in flux, but it’s certainly higher than most men you’ve known. You’re having sex at least every other night if not more.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t dare fall asleep until you do. He likes the feeling of your body relaxing beside his as you drift off. He likes knowing you trust him to keep you safe, even in sleep. Only when he knows there’s nothing lurking in the dark to take you away does he finally fall asleep.

#darth maul #maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #the clone wars #star wars #star wars imagine #lemon

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dallonm-archive · 3 years

Text

[image description: a wideshot of the san francisco skyline, tinted orange by a sunset. Above the skyline, in a white serif font reads "REVELATIONS, REVELATIONS." in all caps. below, in lower caps reads "update #2" /end id]

Revelations, Revelations | Update #2

Hey besties! I've got a funky little RR update

I've had a little bit of a love hate relationship with this book in the last two months but I am loving it right now! I think my struggles came from how I didn't really accept that this book is Hard to write. like it's complicated! and it's set in another country in another era like idk what to tell you! And accepting that was such a weight off my shoulders because I'm not putting the blame on myself. I also was really stuck in part one's problems and I had to be like <3 bestie <3 abandon it til post draft editing. So right now it's like:

Part one: I see it as a little stray cat in an alleyway that I kneel down in front of like pspspsp :) and then it hisses and bites me because it is actually a feral raccoon. Definitely not where I want it to be but like I can fix him

Part two: super fun!! A lot of deeper (and messier) elements are introduced here and I feel like the story's ~vibes~ have clicked. It's a lot of fun and it's getting complex. Whilst there's conflict going on in part one there's definitely this false sense of stability and then part two hits all of them like a baseball bat

My drafting has been much more chill and non linear too, just writing the scenes I want to and then connecting them together. I've been focused less on rich prose/descriptions and more on prose that explores character and it's been very refreshing! I love my flowery prose but I think it's easy to get caught up in. I'm also no longer going to do chapter by chapter updates, both for plot privacy but also because this story is very delicate both in content and the drafting process and I don't just want to expose the bare bones of that, you know? So I'm just gonna do some sectioned rambles and talk about a couple chapters under the cut!

also no longer doing multiple taglists because i can't keep up so! general taglist, ask to be added or removed! ; @kowlazovdi @avi-burton-writing @ryns-ramblings @kitblogsthings @ezrathings @aetherwrites @radiomacbeth @bijouxs @bookphobe @haldimilks @alicewestwater @bookpacking @shaelinwrites @onlyganymede @theelectricfactory @write-like-babs @oceancold @veiliza @sidhewrites @wolf-oak @oasis-of-you @coffeeandcalligraphy @cecilsstorycorner @howdywrites @keira-is-writing @flip-phones @svpphicwrites

Only major change to report is I switched to alternate POVs instead of multiple chapters at a time in one POV because I'm insane <3 I had a lot of fun braiding POVs in Life Cycle of Massive Stars and wanted to try it here and it works much better! Though at this point I am simply ignoring the existence of part 1 because it really was the guinea pig part LMAO i experimented so much with structure and form and now it's a mess but it's <3 a future problem <3 i'd rather have one messy part than a whole first draft that's behind on my growing ~vision~ of the story.

[image description: a slightly purple tinted photo of two arms extending from the top and bottom of the photo, cropped to only show their hands. Their index fingers touch. in the middle, in a white serif font reads "dorothy" /end id]

Not a chapter, I had a lot of trouble with Dorothy in part 1 but I still love her so instead y'all are getting a mini character ramble! I felt really bad about her for the longest time because I've only been writing her since last summer whereas I've known Felix since like 2018 so there's naturally an imbalance, but I Do Not like that!! And she's really taken her time revealing herself, but I am ~fascinated by her.

I feel she's best summarised by this disillusionment for her life but mostly herself, because she's framed her whole identity by illusory perceptions of other people: a mother she doesn't remember, a girlfriend she breaks up with every six months but still shares a bed with, a twin brother she hasn't seen in person for four years and still sees as a teenager drenched in religious manipulation. It's a lot! She assumes that she feels dissatisfied with her life because she's without her twin, but then Felix returns to her life and shockingly this does not fix all of her problems??? She also doesn't know how to be alone, which definitely will not get better after Felix returns oop

The day her brother decides to leave, Dorothy is home alone.

Her San Francisco apartment is hollow like a hungry stomach. Three days ago, she drove Jolie to the airport then came home to cover the bathroom mirror with towels. On the first day she took an extra shift at the book store, drove through Sea Cliff at sunset, bumped into Mona on the stairwell and joined her and Margot for wine and slipped out when they began arguing over rent and office interns, started then discarded a portrait of a fictional girl and slept from two to five in the morning. On the second day she worked and spent an extra hour designing a window display on science fiction that she put together on the third day. Cut and painted a rocket ship on cardboard that she’ll have to scold kids for tugging, then get scolded herself by their mothers.

The day I finalise a design for their apartment it's over but I call this trick Trying To Get Around The Fact I Made Characters In Their Earlier Twenties Live In San Francisco (cw: drowning)

The apartment is nicer than her, but it’s been home for three years and they get $100 off rent each month because Jolie tends the garden and looks just like the landlady's daughter that drowned in the Pacific.

I don't think I've talked about Jolie much here which is funny because she is probably the most well-received amongst my friends! They love her so much and it's because she's a hot but slightly toxic lesbian smh, I'm like no seriously she does some fucked up things and they're like you promise?? Some funky facts:

Her real name is Jolene and she hates it except when the Dolly Parton song came on, that gives her a god complex

We are going to ignore how I accidentally named two characters after words for beautiful and pretty in French we are going to pretend it was intentional because when this gets published a uni student could get some good analysis out of that in their Intro to Literature class

She joined the cult with her mother at 13 and left as soon as she turned 18 LMAO. She was Dorothy's only connection to the "outside world" and the only reason she was able to leave

Her dream job is gardener/florist! We get it I watched Bly Manor last November. She's also a bartender

would probably have this on her car /j

[image description: a close up of a car sticker of a frog above "MILF" in green caps. below "MILF" reads "Man I Love Frogs" /end id]

Dorothy and Jolie have always been on and off and building tension but Dorothy realises this can't keep going when Jolie gets into a barfight at work and Dorothy feels Insane because she's the only one concerned?? (cw: blood, mild violence)

“You’re lucky it’s not broken.” She angles Jolie’s face, hand under her chin. Even with red blotted around her nostrils and lips, mulberry lipstick smudged, she still smiles like her bruises are a trophy. It’s a surprise she doesn’t dwell on it: it’s just some blood, doll, nothing to worry about. She didn’t even strike that good. Her technique was all off. If she shows her face back here I’ll just teach her how to punch properly. The worst part is over and I’m a big girl. Do I look upset? Am I crying? When they drive home, she’ll ask to stop and see if she can get free cigarettes or beer by holding her nose and making herself cry. She’ll probably ask Dorothy to hit her so it starts bleeding again. But she’s quiet, leans against the basin and lets her dab damp towels on her face. It doesn’t take long to clean up. It was just some blood.

“Nursing,” Jolie says.

“What?” “You keep saying you want to go to school but don’t know what for – nursing. You’re too good at taking care of people.”

That ending is like Top Three dialogue lines that made me really Concerned for how this character arc is gonna go :) but don't worry about it y'all. I do think Jolie genuinely loves Dorothy but that does not mean! the relationship is healthy!

Basically I love her a lot now that I know her better and I am excited to see where she goes! I think the biggest part of her arc is motherhood/daughterhood and TBH as a recently realised trans dude it took me a Minute to feel entitled to write her story? But being a cis woman shaped my life for two decades and getting to navigate that and being a daughter from a perspective that's totally distanced from myself is very helpful. It's about the inherent admiration and pain that comes from being a mother's daughter! (cw: blood, diet culture/disordered eating)

She lies next to the table and presses her forehead to the glass corner and imagines what would shatter first: the glass or her skin. And she imagines being a girl again, with French braids and too much baby fat in her cheeks and being picked up by a mother before the blood stains her hands and then her dress. She’d tell the mother she just wanted to read her magazines, the dog-eared articles about divorce and top tips for menopause and the benefits of eating half a grapefruit before your calorie-counted meals. And the mother would just brush the bangs out her face, press a pack of thawed peas on the wound and let her choose between the band aid with hearts or the band aid with flowers. And maybe the mother would know she did it for attention because they both know a daughters cry slices oxygen like glass to skin, but she’d still detangle her curls in the evening and kiss her forehead goodnight and serve her breakfast in the morning with half a grapefruit – the other half on her own plate, untouched and left to rot.

[image description: an orange firework exploding against a black sky. across the photo, in a white serif font reads "the last 10 hours of 1986" /end id]

This is technically two chapters, one in each POV and they close part one! Title is v explanatory and they're meant to be framed like a countdown - my plan was for the scenes to get shorter as it gets closer to midnight and that didn't really work but? The twins def get messier as the countdown goes down and THAT is what we like to see. This is also the only end of a part where the twins are separated but don't worry about it hehe :)

Dorothy

This chapter is like the First Time Dorothy does something for herself and. Good for her!

She’ll publish poetry under a pen name and horror short stories under another. She’ll paint indigo mountains and magenta oceans and not care when the colours stain her clothes. She’ll teach Felix how to blend acrylics and he’ll teach her how to remember piano notes and they won’t argue about who abandoned who. When Mona and Margot break up, she’ll go down to comfort Mona or Margot and then kiss Margot or Mona. She’ll move out and tell neither of them. She’ll find a landlady with a dead daughter and get a discount on an ocean view apartment with wall-length windows. Isaias will move in next door and they’ll have weekly dinner parties with wine that costs more than $10. She’ll go vegan. She’ll be so in tune with herself she won’t need to read magazine horoscopes or pay $50 for a psychic reading that assumes she knows her grandparents. She’ll know when she’s happy sad angry and why. She’ll take portrait commissions so she can afford a therapist. She’ll love her life and ignore that there’s no space for Jolie because she wants there to be. She’ll need nobody except herself. She’ll try and make things with Jolie work. She’ll kiss a random girl at midnight to see if it’s any different. She’ll go home after the countdown.

I had the revelation (aha) of Isaias and Dorothy as besties and I am OBSESSED! I love Isaias but struggled with his role so I'm really happy about this. Like he practices calligraphy and writes poetry titled after his favourite plants is he not the ideal character!! Hoping this will make it easier to learn about him so we can get that fun content

Felix

Felix's is fun because he makes the best decision of his arc but also the stupidest fucking decision of his arc. He truly has the range NOBODY is doing it like him. Here's a part that mirrors the excerpt above because even when they're apart Felix and Dorothy are like hmm we Will Be Intrinsically Connected (cw: drug, vomit and sex mention sorry he's going through it!!)

Two hours before midnight and Felix is alone in the bathroom. The party he abandoned synths through the ceiling. He plays Love My Way on his Walkman. Highest volume. Eyes closed. Imagines 1987 and decides he’s going to be honest about everything and nothing. He’s going to tell strangers at bars that he studies Literature at Stanford. He’s going to date a girl and pretend he has parents to introduce her to, that he grew up on a farm in Ohio and was secretly raised atheist, lie about what lies his parents told him. He’s going to grow out his hair and and blend cyan on his eyelids and send polaroids to his father with no return address; burn his fingertips on a candle flame like Michael will burn the photos of his son. He’s going to adore himself. He’s going to quit smoking and start jogging. He’s going to fuck Pacific Heights husbands whilst their wives sleep in the master bedroom and maybe they’ll angrily call him when they’re served divorce papers and hang up when he laughs. He’s going to get promoted to Assistant Manager and not care that his job is dead-end. He’s not going to kiss anyone at midnight because he doesn’t want to. He’s going to flush the cocaine because he doesn’t want it. He’s going to stare at his reflection until it moves for him. He’s going to vomit in a minute. He’s going to pierce his right ear with a sewing needle.

Felix at the end of part one: I give no more fucks!!! I am going to do whatever I want!!! Life is too short!!!

Felix at the end of part two:

[image description: screenshot of a tweet by @/idksomedumbshit. the tweet reads, "i can't mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one boys" /end id]

I do think it's iconic that this time last year Felix was a repressed Christian boy and now his dream is to be a homewrecker THAT is growth. I also got to write Felix and Jolie which was fun because they do Not like each other <3 but they respect each other <3 but only sometimes <3 They have their first little bonding moment where Jolie pierces his ear in their bathroom but then Felix says something to piss her off so Jolie is like hmm okay time to chose Violence. This dialogue is funny because Felix does not really hate himself at this stage Jolie just knows she's gonna fuck him up by saying that !! My life would be so much easier if these twins had a normal relationship with the concept of being a twin but also this story would be very boring

The needle pierces his skin and he doesn’t feel it. Only the tequila swirling behind his eyes. The sting of the light-bulb. Jolie speaks again, “but she looks just like you, doesn’t she? Not the same of course, but enough to see each other in each other. That’s the worst part, right? To see the person you hate on the face of someone you love?”

[image id: a photo of the ocean with cliffs in the background, tinted orange by sunset. in the middle, in a white serif font reads "1/10/1987" /end id]

This chapter is so CUTE and also my first successful attempt at a different form that I can consistently keep in the narrative <3 I really like the idea of a fluid novel form that's adaptive to how the character's perception of the world would change which? Idk how much I can maintain that but this definitely follows it. I need to fine tune the execution but the concept is shots and transcript from a camcorder recording and playing with what the camera sees/doesn't see. The title is what the tape would be labelled, and on 1/10/1987 (american dates throw me off omfg) Beau takes Felix to a seaside town for his birthday and yes it's gay <3 but it's also just a lot of stupid dialogue which was very refreshing because I overthink dialogue so much I always think it has to have deeper meaning when sometimes its like....characters can sometimes...have Fun together. They are simply displaying Relationship Dynamics!

BEAU: Okay, give me a second…(the camera zooms on Felix) There we go! Right, okay, so it’s Saturday, January 10th, 1987, what’re doing out here today?

FELIX: What is this, an interview or something? You sound like a TV host on those morning shows.

BEAU: Oh my God no they’re so annoying, don’t compare me to those.

FELIX: No but I can imagine it perfectly. You’d just be all (holding a pretend microphone) Gooood Morrrning from sunny San Francisco! My name is Beau Teixeira and—

Beau: (laughing) Shut the fuck up!

I love this chapter a lot because you can definitely tell that their dynamic has Shifted but also! They are still just friends being friends and I really want them to just kiss already but also I love the natural progression of friends to lovers....falling in love and not realising it and then suddenly it all makes sense...

BEAU: You wanna try filming? It’s easier if you hold it on your shoulder. Like this. Put your hands where mine are.

[How their fingers whisper against each other. How Beau’s cologne smells of lime and tangerine. ]

Beau steps back into view, runs a hand through his curls. Leather jacket flutters in salted wind. Behind him the sunset flickers over waves like a candle flame. He smiles at the camera.

BEAU: I think you’re a natural! You’re definitely gonna be first choice for cameraman on my shitty morning show.

[How Felix smiles at him.]

(cw: next paragraph talks about the AIDS crisis)

Whilst this is a Fun And Cute Chapter there is more depth to it since the last time we see Beau and Felix before it is the first time they open up about the AIDS Crisis and their fears surrounding it. I have a lot of complicated thoughts about writing this part of history that I could write about all day but it boils down to the fact that "so many queer stories are centred around queer trauma and tragedy and queer people deserve to read stories centred around love and happiness" and "with a queer novel set in 1980s SF it'd be just as bad to completely ignore what happened" are two things that can coexist. I definitely think stories centred around the crisis are necessary (recently read The Prettiest Star by Carter Sickels and highly recommend! Also has a similar camcorder function and an emphasis on preserving. Also made me cry) but shouldn't be the default, especially in a story that if published would have a queer readership, so whilst it's something I want to explore I want to do it in a way that ultimately celebrates queer happiness, love and life. Definitely way more that could be said about this and the function of queer trauma in queer narratives but! Both Beau and Felix feel a need to not only capture as much as possible, but to capture it specifically with the intent to look back in the future, as well as a general We Are Going To Try And Find Happiness Wherever We Can. Also feel like a lot of Beau's character clicked whilst writing it which was very fun!

[How Beau wouldn’t say where they were going but cracked before they left San Francisco because he had too many stories to tell: five year old burning his tongue on café tea, six year old falling into waves and being unbothered, seven year old plucking chrysanthemum petals from stranger’s gardens. How Beau has an orange car freshener and missing headrest on the passengers seat. How Beau drove a longer route because it was closer to the coastline. How Beau played Pet Shop Boys’ Please and knew the words to every song. How Felix realized that he did too.]

[image description: a man and a woman sit next to each other on a bench. the photo is taken from behind them. in the background, you can vaguely see water, hills and the golden gate bridge. across the image, in a white serif font reads "everything the same about dorothy and felix" /end id]

Little title explanation: part 1 has two chapters, "Everything Different about Felix" and "Everything Different about Dorothy" which introduce their relationship + impression of each other after not seeing each other in person for four years (and also how they have images of each other in their heads that are false but they're attached to and it's really not helping the whole complicated twin relationship thing but don't worry about it) and I'd like to expand on that in part two so! An attempt was made. This takes place the day after the above chapter on the twins' actual birthday, the first one they're celebrating together since they were 18 and the first one in the "outside world" so it's a moment!

I'm not happy with how this chapter came out but I think it's just because it's an important one to me! Partly because it helps cement the idea that in spite of their complex relationship, Felix and Dorothy never stop being twins and they never stop loving each other even on the days they dislike each other. But mainly because: these are two adults who lost their childhood to trauma and they finally have the freedom to live their life and! Sometimes that means living for the inner child that never got to be a child. As a certified Adult With Childhood Trauma having a chapter like this was v important because trauma never leaves you but that doesn't mean you can't be happy!! Also it's just. cute. They run around San Francisco, bake a really shitty birthday cake, talk about whether or not San Francisco is real, I want what they have. There is underlying conflict because hoo boy there is Shit simmering rn! But it was nice to have this and the previous chapter as just like. Two little golden moments you know. Calm before the storm if you will

Midnight. Dorothy lies on a mattress on the floor in an apartment in San Francisco. Her brother’s head in her lap. “You know what’s crazy to me? Nobody ever asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. That just wasn’t something we were allowed to think about. I know it’s depressing, I just think about that a lot.”

Felix keeps his eyes on the ceiling. The clock ticks. “Well, what do you wanna be when you grow up?”

“Astronaut, of course.”

“I was gonna say astronaut.”

“You definitely weren't,” she says. “Besides, I already claimed it.”

He looks at her. “I was thinking it. Before you said it, I claimed it in my mind.”

“That’s not how it works. I can’t read your mind.”

Felix sits up. “Wait, you can’t? Gee Dotty, some twin you are.” He grins. So does she.

Usually I am like. I don't think they would care too much about the twin thing. But I also think they would definitely joke about it, like if someone asked a stupid question Felix would be like "well of course we can read each others minds, dont you know how twins work?? like right now my twin sister who is my twin is thinking about giving me, her twin brother, $200" But lets end this on an excerpt where Dorothy doesn't give him $200 but she does think Oh How Did I Spend Four Years Without My Brother

(cw: death mention + missing persons mention, plane crash + boating accident mention)

Dorothy is used to his presence, has been for a year: coffee stains on the table, cupboards left open in the kitchen, clustered ashtray in the living room, hair gel and Jazz aftershave behind the bathroom mirror, Queen or Bowie or Alphaville sifting from his room. His voice. How he always knocks on her door to say goodnight. How he weaved himself into the ecosystem like air but tonight she watches her brother do nothing but breathe and she remembers waking up every January 11th in 1983, 84, 85, 86, and chucking a towel over the bathroom mirror. How she told strangers at bars that she’s an only child; or that she had a younger brother, but he died in a plane crash or a boating accident or went on a hiking trip and never came back, was likely immortalised as a John Doe in Oregon or Nevada records. How she went four years without coffee stains and open cupboards and goodnight knocks and Queen or Bowie or Alphaville renditions when he forgets that she exists in this space too. How hollow those four years were.

And that's all I have to share! I'm not sure when the next update will be, but I much prefer this format of talking about the story! If you read this far I love u <3

#revelations revelations #atlastracking #writing update #i wrote most of this update at 5am so ignore any typos god bless

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shewillreadyou · 3 years

Text

Me before You: Chapter 2- For Real

As always. I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

A/N: This is a TRR AU. Liam is already married, but see’s Riley and wants his cake. If the readers are receptive this might turn into more than a mini series.

Disclaimers: Most characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: Language, adult content, mild sexual innuendo.

Word Count: 2458

Catch up: Haven’t met you Yet

Prompts: @theworldofprompts

“Name one thing you regret in life?”

“Well, for starters, I married you.” will appear in BOLD.

Pairings: Drake & Riley

Song inspiration: For Real- Amel Larrieux

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may salute your bride.”

Savannah and her groom shared a modest kiss.

“It is my pleasure to present to you for the very first time the Duke and Duchess of Ramsford. Bertrand and Savannah Beaumont of Cordonia.”

“Cordonia?” Riley whispered to herself.

“So I’m not crazy. Drake said he is from Cordonia. The Liam look-alike could really be King Liam of Cordonia. The matron of honor could actually be Queen Carsyn. This is insane.”

Her thoughts raced as she tried to make connections.

“There will be a cocktail hour in the barn,” an older woman announced.

The barn was decorated in a rustic theme, Tim McGraw’s, “I like it, I love it” played in the background and there were servers with appetizers everywhere. Quickly, lines formed for the open bars. Mack held on to Riley’s arm as they waited.

“So let me get this straight? The guy you met in New York, was Drake? Drake Walker? Like Savannah’s brother Drake? No fucking way. The world is not that small.”

“Yeah, apparently it is, he is the man I saw at the airport, the guy from the bar, the guy I’ve been texting and now he’s here.”

“Sounds like fate.”

“I don’t know if I believe in fate. More like dumb luck.”

“Miss Riley?” a server interrupts their conversation.

“For you and your guest.”

He offers a whiskey sour and an old fashion, the signature drink to she and Mack.

“Compliments of Mr. Walker. My name is Caleb, I have been personally assigned to you for the duration of the evening. You don’t need to wait in lines. I can bring you whatever you need to eat or drink.”

“Wow, well thank you Caleb. That’s very thoughtful.”

She tries to tip Caleb and he refuses.

“No thank you Ma’am. Mr. Walker has already compensated me handsomely. Please let me know if there is anything else I can get for you.”

Later

The wedding party joins the guests in the barn before the bride and groom have their first dance. Riley watched from her assigned seat wondering who would end up seated next to her. The seat went empty for the first part of the afternoon.

“That was a beautiful ceremony. You know, I have seen pictures and heard tons of stories about Drake from Savannah, but he has really grown up. He is a hottie.”

“He’s ok.”

“Wow, just ok? Huh? I’m wounded.” he says in a raspy voice.

“Drake!”

Mack and Riley blush furiously.

“Raye. It’s good to see you again.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” she smirked.

“Sorry! Drake, this is Mackenzie, Mack this is Savannah’s brother Drake.”

“Don’t listen to her. She was definitely pleasantly surprised,” Mack said as she extended her hand for Drake to kiss.

Riley elbowed Mack and Drake laughed as he shook her hand.

“Good thing I get the honor of keeping you company tonight. My seat was moved next to yours.”

He smiled and Riley’s heart melted just a little bit more. He leaned over to hug her and she immediately flashed back to their dance on the rooftop.

After their first dance, all the guests were invited to the dance floor. “At Last” by Etta James started to play.

“May I have this dance? And please don’t tell me that your feet still hurt.”

She stood, unsure of what to do in the presence of royalty.

“Your Majesty, we have to stop meeting this way. Shouldn’t you be dancing with your Queen?”

Before he could answer, Drake slipped up behind Riley snaking his strong arm around her waist. Pulling her into his embrace.

“Beat it Li!”

“Miss me yet?”

“Perfect timing. Small world. You didn’t say that your Mom and sister lived so close to me.”

“I didn’t think it was pertinent information at the time,” he said as he led her in a slow dance. Riley watched Queen Carsyn over Drakes shoulder, as she shot daggers at King Liam.

“Is he always like that?”

“What?”

“Liam? Is he always so tactless?”

“I’m not at liberty to comment,” he chuckles.

“Question asked, question answered.”

“Enough about Liam. Have I mentioned how stunning you look?”

“No, but thanks for the compliment anyway.”

She smiled, getting lost in his eyes as they swayed to the music.

After sitting and watching Drake and Riley dance and flirt for hours Mack was about ready to go.

“Ri, I’m about ready to head out.”

“Riley reluctantly said her goodbyes to Drake, not knowing when she’d see him again.

After a short drive back to her place they arrived to see a red Jeep sitting idle in front of her door waiting. Riley looked at Mack and shrugged her shoulders. When she had said goodnight to her friend, she headed to the door. The window of the Jeep lowered, “Hey, could you tell me where to get something good to eat in this neighborhood?”

“Drake! What-- how did you know where I lived?”

“Guestbook.”

“Well, that isn’t creepy at all.”

“I’m hungry and thought you might be hungry too.”

“So, where to?”

“I don’t know, I have only been here a few weeks.”

“I know a place.”

Drake gets out of the truck and walks around waving at Mack, who is still watching from her car. He opens the door for Riley and grabs her by the waist helping her into the truck.

“Really? Such a gentleman.”

He smiles as he heads back around. Mack lowers her window and says, “I took a picture of your license plates just in case she doesn’t make it back.”

“Noted.”

“Thank you. So where are we going?”

“Whataburger. I can’t get that in Cordonia.”

“What the what?”

“You’ll love it, promise and it’s on me. Seat belt.”

“Let me ask you a question?”

“Just one?”

“God no, I have a million questions.”

“Ok, I will try my best to answer them.”

She thinks of what she wants to ask first.

“What did you honestly think when you saw me today?”

“That I am not this lucky.”

A blush crept across her face as she awkwardly shifted in the seat.

“Why do you live in Cordonia if your Mom and Sister are here?”

“Work is there. Besides, I have never had a good reason to come back.”

“I see.”

Her face betrayed her, she was feeling conflicted and defeated and it showed. They drove along the dark road quietly for a few minutes.

“So, uh, you must do important work in Cordonia for you to stay there instead of here with your family.”

“If you want to know what I do for a living Raye, just ask.”

“You told me not to and I respect your wishes.”

“Well, some would consider it important. My family won’t be here for long, Sav and my nephew are moving to Cordonia this week. I’m the lead for the King’s Guard.”

“You mean you protect Liam?”

“Yeah,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck.

Just then they pulled into the parking lot. The line in the drive thru was long so they headed inside. He held the door open for her and when they stood in front of the counter he stood directly behind her as they both looked up at the menu. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms when he noticed her shiver.

“Cold?”

“Yeah, a little. Also, overwhelmed with this menu. Order for me?”

A mischievous grin crept across his face as he placed his suit coat around her shoulders.

After an hour of probing conversation, many laughs, and eating a deliciously greasy burger, heavenly fries with as Drake called it “fancy fucking ketchup,” they headed back to her place.

“Drake, I’m not ready for tonight to end,” she confessed.

“I know the feeling.”

“Come upstairs with me?”

“Riley Elizabeth Raye! What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“The kind who steals people’s personal information out of wedding guest books.”

“Checkmate.”

“Besides, I have had these shoes on since this morning. My feet! Anyway, we can watch a movie and chat for a little while.”

“I have been told I give a mean foot massage.”

“Are you offering?”

He licks his lips and bites his lips. Her center twitched.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Why are you looking at me like you want to climb in my lap?

Her cheeks flushed red.

“You wish.”

“Enough about that, let’s talk about our first real date.”

“Who said I wanted to date a guy with no real reason to come to Dallas?”

“Whoa, that was before.”

They headed up to her apartment. He stood so close to her in the elevator that she could feel his body heat. They had a staring contest that she lost. She definitely looked away first. It was like he was staring into her soul. The sexual tension was thick and she felt relieved when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

“Long distance dating is not exactly something I want to pursue.”

“Understandable. I’m here now. Let me take you out tomorrow.”

“What would that look like?”

“Dallas Jazz fest is tomorrow.”

“And you just happened to know that off the top of your head?”

“I might have done some research on my phone when I learned that a certain lady whom I’d like to impress was within my grasp.”

She chortled, “you like jazz?”

“No, but if I get to spend time with you it can’t be that bad.”

“You’d do that for me?”

They step inside her place and he makes a face.

“What is it?”

“Your place smells exactly like I expected, fruity.”

She invites Drake to sit as she kicks her shoes off. She moves around the counter and opens the fridge grabbing a couple bottles of water, a bottle of Glenmorangie, and a couple glasses.

“Raye, this is the good stuff. It’s really expensive. Sure you’re sharing?”

“Completely, pour me one too? Be right back,” she says as she headed into her bedroom to change and freshen up.

When she returned, Drake cleared his throat at the sight of her barely there clothing change.

They settled on the soft couch as Drake passed her the tumbler of whiskey he poured for her. She eyed the drink as he stared at her.

“What are you looking at?”

“Your umm, outfit? Comfy?”

“Yes. Very. Should I drink this? I didn’t see you pour it.”

“Good grief, switch with me.” Drake says before raising his glass.

“Cheers, to the best reason I ever had to come back to the States.”

She bit her lip trying to contain her smile.

“Well then, after a toast like that you get to pick the movie.”

She later regretted being so generous. Drake chose FACE OFF. They started off good, he pulled her aching feet into his lap and rubbed them until she was sure she would orgasm. She pulled away crossing her legs in a twisted attempt to save her panties.

She loved the movie but knew she couldn’t get through any of the scenes when they ran their hands down the others face to wordlessly say, I love you. So as much as she tried she sat with tears running down her face for much of the movie. The first time she cried Drake pretended to ignore it. She wiped her face on her. The next time she cried he looked at her with a raised eyebrow and the final time he pulled her into his arms and wiped her tears.

“You definitely get to pick a movie that won’t make you cry next time.”

“Next time? You really want to go out with me, huh?”

“I thought that was clear by now.”

“Drake, can I be honest?”

“I’d prefer it.”

“I have never dated a white guy before.”

He feigned shock. Then laughed.

“We have that in common because I haven't either. Is that all?”

“No, I didn’t expect to like you this much.”

“Have you dated a black woman before?”

“No.”

“Are you ready for family and friends to turn their backs on you? For strangers to shoot us dirty looks in public? For all of the things that come along with dating me?”

“I guess I never really thought about it. But I’d like to think that it would be a small price to pay to be with you.”

They chatted until they both fell asleep. The sunrise plucked him from his slumber. She had fallen asleep in his arms. He watched her for a few moments fighting the urge to kiss her. He untangled himself from her and used her restroom. When he returned, she was awake.

“I thought you finally came to your senses and left.”

“I don’t scare easily. I’m headed back to the ranch. I’ll pick you up around 6pm.”

She stood and they shared a long embrace as she secretly sniffed him trying to memorize his smell before she let him out.

Back at the ranch

“You stayed out all night. Did you get some trim?”

“No.”

Figures. You wouldn’t know what to do with all that ass anyway.

“And you do?” Carsyn interjects.

“Carsyn, I didn’t realize you were back from your morning run.”

“I knew that you wanted to fuck her. I saw the way you were looking at her at the wedding.”

Drake stands, “This seems like a personal conversation. Call me later Li.”

Liam shakes his head and turns to his wife.

“You are always making a big deal out of nothing. I have given you everything. You knew who I was before you married Me. You are the queen. Why are you so insecure?”

Tears filled her eyes.

“Name one thing you regret in life?” “Well, for starters, I married you.”

Liam stormed out of the room to find Drake in the hall on the phone with Riley. When Drake sees Liam he ends the call.

“Drake Walker. Your nose is open. I know you think you like her but, do you really want to start seeing a black woman? They can be a lot.”

“Don’t be an ass Li, any woman can be a lot. But it’s different with her. She is so chill. Like it’s easy with her.”

“If it’s so easy, why didn’t you close?”

“I said that it’s easy to be with her. Not that she was easy you, prick.”

“Just be careful Drake. You know what they say… Once you go black…”

“Li! For fucks sake.”

“I’m just saying. I’m going out tonight so if you need a trial run Carsyn will be here alone.”

“Did you just give me permission to fuck your wife?”

“Sure, everyone knows I’m not.”

“Hard pass.”

@txemrn @pixie88 @secretaryunpaid@khoicesbyk @blackkingliamstan @mom2000aggie @shannonwrote @hopelessromanticmonie @fanjessfic @rideordiechronicles @lucy-268 @dcbbw @darley1101 @maurine07 @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @kingliam2019 @schnitzelbutterfingers @lem-20 @choicesficwriterscreations @theworldofprompts @no-one-u-know

TRR: @twinkleallnight @bebepac @mainstreetreader @romereadingshop @romewritingshop @lem-20 @texaskitten30

#choices fanfiction #choices stories you play #trr #me before you #drake walker #drake x riley #fanfic #fandom #fanfiction #texas #a cordonian romance #the royal romance #follow shewillreadyou #kim reads #kim writes #kim reblogs

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honestlyhappyharry · 3 years

Text

Chapter 10

The Storm

Chapter 9

Something on Tuesday morning felt off. Harry had stayed over again, much to your delight. He didn't want to overstep the boundary lines but everything was falling into place between the two of you, it was like you had gone back to your old relationship. Warm and cozy was all you could feel.

But that morning was cold. Harry's side of the bed was cold, at only 6:30. While he'd not stayed over much you still felt like it was out of character.

You tried to push it out of your head and got out of bed to pack Lily's lunch for Pre K before making her breakfast.

At the bottom of the stairs, you peeked into the lounge to see Harry hunched over on the couch, phone in hand. "Are you okay?" He popped his head up and just started, blankly.

He was a lot different from his usual morning clinginess when he wrapped himself around you, not letting you get up.

"Get out your phone," Harry told you, the tone of his voice made you do it quickly. His tone wasn't mad but upset or a little hurt. You quickly pulled out your phone from your pyjama shorts and waited for his instruction. "Go on Twitter." That sent your head racing, Twitter had always been a wild place of quick-spreading news and all you could think about was what was written about you and Harry.

Lily never crossed your mind.

Harry watched you for a few minutes while you looked through the stream of tweets. "Oh, shit." Finally, you snapped up to meet Harry's eyes again. "This is really, really bad."

"I know," Harry stated, patting the seat next to him so you sat down beside him. "It started with an article on the Daily Mail with a photo of me and Lily from last night, you know when I was carrying her to the car?" You nodded at that. "I didn't even realise anyone was there and I think it was posted after we went to bed. Then, like most things about me, it blew right up on Twitter this morning in the UK before it was morning over here. Pretty much the whole world was tweeting about it before we woke up."

"It would be good if your fans slept." You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled a little. "It's the top trending hashtag. The press is going insane and management have flipped out. I'm not even sure what the fans are thinking, maybe mad or confused or even happy."

Harry dropped his head into his hands and left his phone on the couch beside him. It was still unlocked and you could see more tweets flooding in. If you spent the whole day reading the tweets that were already tweeted, you wouldn't finish reading them for the whole day.

Something like the was bound to happen, Lily looked exactly like Harry so it wasn't hard to put two and two together, but you thought you'd have a few more months. Especially last night because you hadn't seen anyone who even looked interested in who Harry was.

"I'm really sorry, Haz. I know that was not how you wanted it to come out and it's not how I wanted it to come out either." You told him as you wrapped your arms around him, desperately trying to console him.

"I have to do an interview on Wednesday, you know, trying to explain it all. Until then please promise me something." Harry informed you and you nodded, anything he wanted you would agree to. "Please don't look at Twitter until it's all sorted. Or Instagram." He told you and you nodded in agreement.

"Okay, but you're also on a ban." You told him, knowing people would be saying worse about you but you hardly wanted him to see all the bad things that were being said about him.

"I promise." He agreed, before getting up. "I should go, though, got lots of music stuff to do." He told you as he walked to the door, you followed and waited for him to put his shoes on.

"I'll miss you." You told him before he spun around. His hands were instantly on your waist, yours moving to his chest. He kissed your lips for a few seconds, giving you the same electric feeling you always get around him.

He smiled once he pulled away. "I'll miss you more, baby. And I'll call you later." He left you standing there, wondering how wrong it was all about to get.

You woke up on Wednesday, hoping that it was all a bad dream. The worry was almost as bad as Monday. It was made worse by the fact Harry wasn't there. However, the little voice jumping on your bed urged you to get up.

"Mummy, mummy, get up." Lily cheered as she jumped on your bed making you sigh. Sleep-ins were a rarity in your house but no matter what you were grateful to get up to the little girl.

Rolling over to face her you opened your arms so she could fall into them. You placed a kiss on her head and inhaled her smell, it was something you never wanted to forget.

"Are you excited to get your nails done?" You ask her and she nodded quickly. She had been talking about it since you told her what was happening.

"I'm getting pink, remember." She told you excitedly, it wasn't her favourite, yellow was but she was decided.

After breakfast and you both got changed, Lily was in the car with you as you drove to the nail salon. Your nerves were getting worse as you got closer but you arrived 7 minutes early, also 7 minutes before Harry's interview. Thankfully a radio interview limited the face to face contact Harry could have with an interviewer. However, it was live which meant no editing.

"Gem!" Lily said as she saw Gemma. You could tell from dinner that they had clicked. Lily loved listening to her tease Harry and their personalities were a lot alike.

"Lily!" Gemma replied as she picked her up and hugged her. They really looked a lot alike and the few baby photos you could remember of her as a child rendered them identical.

They hugged and you gave Anne a hug. "I'm so sorry about what happened with the press." She whispered and you smiled at the fact that after so much time she still cared enough to say something. It was an ode to how close Harry and Anne were.

"It sucks, but Harry's interview is in a few minutes so hopefully it'll get cleared up." You told her and she nodded. You doubted it would but a little social media cleanse was nice.

Soon after you hugged Gemma who only said, "It'll be alright," to which you nodded, knowing, in the end, it would be.

There was a little bit of resentment towards the press because you wanted to be able to tell the world on your terms.

The nail bar was nice, modern and sleek. Unlike Lily's bold neon pink, you went for a plain white which you figured looked best with summer outfits. Summer was a very exciting idea, having all that time to spend with Harry and Lily.

Once your nails were done Gemma and Anne insisted that you and Lily came with them to lunch, which you gratefully agreed to. It was an incredible feeling to be fitting back into their family after so long apart and you were thankful they were so accepting.

You could tell Anne was itching to talk to you, a more nervous silence falling over the atmosphere. As soon as you got to the restaurant and ordered Anne made Gemma take Lily to the park across the road to play. There was an odd mix of gratitude and fear you were feeling.

"Did you know the first night Harry told me that he had Lily, I was over at his place and I just started crying?" She started and you shook your head before she continued her story. "I was mad at him, so upset with the whole situation but I felt a lot of sympathy for you both. I wouldn't tell him this but you went through worse, raising her all alone which is why I was mad at Harry. I don't know all the details of your breakup but I feel for him when he was in that state." She continued while you nodded, out of all of her qualities she was so emotionally intelligent. "I wanted to talk to you, but he wouldn't let me."

"I know." You said, there was still the unresolved guilt you felt. Anne had an amazing granddaughter she hadn't met until a long time after your parents had met her. But thankfully Anne was much smarter than to be jealous. "I wish you guys had met her before now." She could tell it was the truth. "I even wish I stayed with Harry or went back to tell him or just anything that didn't lead to today."

Anne wasn't going to let you take the fall. "I've never blamed you for what you did. I still blame him for driving you away but I know how hard it was for him." It was nice to pour your heart out to someone who was so neutral despite hearing her son's grief for years.

"It's nice to have someone else to talk to about this." You smile over at her and she returns it.

"Mummy!" A small voice called and Lily came walking over, hand in hand with Gemma. They were both wearing the same famous Styles smirk.

"Hey, how was the park?" You asked her, just before your phone started ringing. Embarrassed, you pulled it out to put it on silent but your eyes glanced at the name.

Harry <3

You look around at everyone else. "It's Harry."

"Take it," Anne told you quickly. "It'll be important or he'd text." She definitely knew him very well. Gemma nodded, taking her seat next to Anne while Lily sat next to you and coloured her colouring book.

"Thanks." You smiled, answering the call as you walked away to somewhere quieter. "Hey." You spoke into the phone.

"Baby." Harry's low voice came over the phone, making a shiver come over your spine. "Did you hear my interview?" He's quick to ask.

By now you had pushed open the doors and you were standing outside. Thankfully the wind wasn't too cold on your skin. There was a little park bench near the restaurant where you sat, phone to your ear. "No, how did it go?"

"It was okay. They asked about Lils, obviously. How old she was, you know the general stuff." You could tell there was something off in his voice, something he wasn't telling you so you didn't reply until he spilt the beans. "Then there was some personal questions about what happened between me and you and why Lily was never known to anyone." He continued, getting quieter.

"Are you alright though?" Even if you didn't want to hear the answer, you had to ask.

"Yeah, I am. I think it's good the story has been set straight. It's going to be better now though and I'm excited to talk you all out without the paparazzi finding out." The air felt lighter, and if you could see yourself you'd see how much more relaxed you looked.

You nodded before realising he couldn't see you. "I mean they'll still probably going to write some terrible stories."

"Yes, and maybe don't go on social media or those celebrity gossip websites, my team is still saying they're still slamming me." His tone was an indicator he was hurt about it, which made you hurt because this whole situation was partly your fault.

"I'm sure they're slamming me too." You laugh, unreciprocated.

His pause was an acknowledgement of his agreement. "Don't want you to get upset, so please don't."

"I should go, we're having lunch." You tell him, thinking back to who you left inside.

"Yeah, how's it all going though?" He asked, still wanting to talk.

"It was really fun, we're had our nails done, we talked a bit and now we're at lunch."You tell him and you can almost see him nod.

"Ooo, anything about me?" He asked quickly, he seemed back to his normal self.

"Hmm, maybe. Is there anything else?" You asked him.

"Can I come over later? I don't really know how this works." He sighs, it made you giggle a little bit about his shyness.

You thought about it for a second before you replied. "I think it works like it used to when we didn't live together but we might as well have been." You confirmed, only imagining his smile.

"Right, so I come over, we have sex, go to sleep and then have some more sex." His crude comments made your eyes widen.

"Harry Edward Styles, I meant you can come over whenever you'd like but maybe I'll retract that." You smirked to yourself as you heard him sigh.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I should also go but don't forget who's name you'll be screaming tonight."

There was no point in trying to reprimand him now. "I'll see you later." You said as you ended the phone call. It made you feel warm inside, as cliché as it was, knowing you'd be the one he fell asleep next to made everything seem better.

You walked the few metres back into the restaurant and talk a seat down at the table. Quickly you realised how long you had been on the phone with Harry.

All Lily, Anne and Gemma looked up at you. "What happened?" Anne was quick to ask.

"He just wanted to talk to me about the I-N-T-E-R-V-I-E-W." You spelt out so Lily remained unaware of what was going on. Not that she seemed to be paying attention to what was going on, she was still colouring.

"Oh, did he say how it went?" Gemma pipped up. She was always curious, that was something you learnt when you dated Harry all those years ago and she was asking how everything was going. Not that you minded it.

You nodded. "He said it was good to get it all out but the media and fans are still in a bit of a frenzy so he's said no social media for me." You let out a sigh, being in mock frustration.

"He's very sweet when he's in love." Gemma didn't even realise the words she was saying until they came out, that was when your eyes widened.

"Gemma," Anne growled, stopping her from talking about how much Harry loved you with a disappointed head tilt. You found it hard to keep the thoughts from racing after that. Did Harry love you? Did you love him? Did his feeling from all those years come back? Had it been long enough?

You hoped the answer was 'yes' but your mind forced some rationalisation. When you first told Harry you loved him you had only been together for 2 months and you had almost been dating him for 3 now. Maybe it was more innocent now.

After what Gemma said, the conversation slowed down a bit but by the time lunch was over you were on top of the world. Everything finally felt like it had fallen into place.

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Light the Pyres |Strike| - SUNGYOON

Based off the Burn It mv? Yeah I know it was like five months ago but whatever. Writing this honestly hurt me so I’m sorry if you’re reading it <3

(But no, really. This is a heavier and bloodier story. If this isn’t for you, please don’t read!)

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, death, side character commits suicide (no mention of suicidal thoughts though), semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 3.8k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Strike >> Next: Light

Golden Child Masterlist

“It’s insane, isn’t it?” You pace around your dorm. “I can’t believe it went so wrong. Not to say that I ever agreed with the testing in the first place, but –”

“I know.” Your mother sighs into the phone. “Anyone would’ve thought such a project would be handled carefully, no? It’s a miracle anyone survived at all.”

You sit on the edge of your bed. “I’m just glad you’re safe,” you say. “When I heard the shaking could be felt even from home…”

She laughs, soft and gentle in a way that sends a pleasant warmth tickling down your spine. God, you love hearing your mother’s laugh. “I’m fine, Y/N.” You can almost hear the smile in her voice. “I appreciate you checking in on me, but I’m perfectly fine. We had a few tremors, that’s all. No one is hurt.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” You smile. “I have to go to class now, but stay safe, okay? I’ll see you this winter break, I promise.”

“I’m counting the days, darling. I love you and miss you.”

“Same here, Mom.”

You press your head against the car window as Daeyeol speeds down the empty highway. It’s been months since that call, months since the test bomb failed, mutating the few who survived into flesh-eating shades of their human selves.

Of course, no one knew it then. The survivors were rushed to a nearby hospital for treatment and when they first woke up, there were no signs of abnormality besides some slightly shrunken pupils.

Then veins blackened, skin paled, and they attacked.

One infected hospital turned into an entire city. The few who managed to escape tried to spread the news, but no one believed them. Only a couple of the smallest news outlets, looking for a good scoop, related the stories of the shaking survivors of what they called a zombie apocalypse. Unbelievable, right?

Not so much when one zombie made its way into an otherwise healthy city and began biting people in full daylight.

Only a few states away, your mother was living her life when the government imposed a strict lockdown. No one was to leave their home. Certain stores would be open on certain days, and blocks would be allowed to shop at certain times. Otherwise, stay at home and do not go outside.

She called you that day and every day after until communications shut off. On the other side of the country, you panicked when your calls stopped going through, when your texts only rebounded with an “unable to send – try again” message that made you want to smash your phone against the ground.

Until several days later, in the middle of a class no one was paying attention to, she picked up.

Your professor doesn’t even blink an eye as you run out of the room, already halfway to tears. “Oh my God, Mom –”

“Darling, we don’t have time.” You can hear the cracks in her voice. “So many cities nearby have been overrun already, and we can’t use internet or even power anymore because we need to conserve. I don’t know how your call managed to go through.”

“I thought you were dead.” You slide to the floor, back pressed against the wall as you try hard not to cry. “Mom, I –”

“No, I’m alive.” She laughs, but there’s a frightened edge to it that you’ve never heard before. It feels like being doused with cold water, horrible – your mother, the woman who raised you so fearlessly in the wake of her husband’s death, is scared.

You can barely comprehend it.

“I’m alive, Y/N.” A tiny sniffle on the other end. “I just want you to know that I love you very much. I always will.”

“I love you too, Mom.” A tear trickles down your face. “I love you. I’m going to come for you, okay? I’ll come. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll come for you.”

No reply. You look down at your phone, only to realize the call’s disconnected with no way for you to know how much your mother heard of your last words.

You haven’t been able to call her since, not with her power completely cut off and your university going on lockdown just a couple of weeks later. But it doesn’t matter. When rumors that a wave of flesh-eating non-humans was going to hit your city soon, you rented a car with Daeyeol and set off for home, driving in a direction from where no zombies had come.

You’re pretty sure the rental owner knew you had no intention of returning the car, judging from the thin press of his lips as you handed over your card. He softened, though, when you slid into the driver’s seat. “Good luck,” he’d said.

That bit of luck seems to have paid off. After weeks of alternately walking and driving, weeks of crippling paranoia and sudden attacks, neither you nor Daeyeol has been bitten. You might be dehydrated, half-starved, and ready to collapse at any given moment, but at least you have no shrunken pupils, no blackened veins, and no hunger for flesh.

Daeyeol’s voice cuts through the car tires jostling on the road. “All right?”

“Mm.” You nod slightly, head still pressed against the window. A tiny smirk widens your cracked lips. “Still alive.”

It’s morbid. So many people you know or knew have died, probably more than you realize, so it maybe isn’t the best move to joke about being alive. But it makes Daeyeol smile, even if it’s more of a smirk than a real smile, and after everything that’s happened, you both need a reason to laugh every so often.

“Same here,” he says, words cracking slightly with disuse. His voice used to be smooth, sweet with his singer’s tones, but it’s all faded over days and weeks of silence.

Don’t exactly want to attract a horde of zombies for the sake of a bit of song.

His voice breaks you out of depressing thoughts again. “Get some sleep,” he says, glancing over. “We’ll stop at sundown.”

“Cool.” You stretch slightly, yawning. “I guess I’ll drive through the night?”

“If we don’t break down by then.” As if on cue, the motor sputters, nearly launching you forward, but thankfully, the car doesn’t stop just yet. Daeyeol sighs. “Halfway there,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Halfway there,” you echo as another faded highway sign flashes past. After nearly two months of travel, you’re over halfway home.

You let that thought comfort you into an uneasy sleep.

. . . . .

“Shit.”

You wake up to Daeyeol’s curse and the sputtering sound of the engine. He’s gone off the highway since you fell asleep, now trying to start the choking car on a street in what looks like it used to be a city. As you blink the sleep out of your eyes, he presses down on the accelerator, hard. The car jerks forward for a second, then stops.

Daeyeol groans. “We didn’t even make it to sundown.”

Sure enough, the sun still hasn’t fallen. From the beat up watch on your wrist, you estimate an hour or so before dark. Probably enough time to try and take a crack at fixing the engine or whatever’s gone wrong with the car.

“I’ll take a look.” You rub your eyes. “See if it’s something I can fix. Stay close, I might need your help.”

After years of growing up beside your mechanic mother, mechanical engineering was a no-brainer when you entered university. Since then, your technical skills have grown a little rusty when it comes to repairing cars (hey, not a lot of people drove around your college town), but in the months after the explosion, you’ve had to relearn those skills fast.

You don’t dare roll up your sleeves, not even in the heat of the afternoon sun and the warmth radiating off the engine. If a zombie comes out of nowhere, your layers are the only chance of surviving a bite.

Wincing at the memory of your first close call, you start poking around the engine. It isn’t smoking, which is good, but something rattles when you tap at it with a wrench.

Great.

Sweat pours down your face as you fiddle around with the engine. A few bolts are loose – how you didn’t notice when you first took the car, you don’t know – but you tighten them carefully as the sun sinks lower in the sky. “Hopefully that’s it,” you mutter before pulling the hood down. Even in such an empty place, the small thunk makes you flinch, looking around for zombies to come pouring out of nowhere.

Nothing happens. You sigh in relief, plucking the keys from Daeyeol’s hand. “Let’s see if it works.”

It does. After an initial sputtering, the car moves forward. Reflexes keep your mouth shut before you can whoop, but you settle for a satisfied sigh as you beckon Daeyeol into the car, his eyes smiling in a way that’s become rare in the past month.

Then –

A shout.

A bang.

You freeze, one hand on the wheel.

Gunshots.

Daeyeol’s already opening his door, eyes wide with worry as someone screams and the familiar sound of dead groaning fills the air. “Come on,” he says, his tone booking no room for argument. “Let’s go.”

He’s too kind. Too selfless. As you run behind him, pulling out the gun holstered at your own waist, you try to push down the urge to drag him back to the car and just drive away from the growing screams and groans.

But Daeyeol is your best friend, one of your two last anchors to his barren earth. You may not have the same selfless streak that he does, but you’ll follow him into danger and watch his back if it’s the last thing you do.

Someone like Daeyeol deserves that much and more.

Following the noise, you sprint between two buildings, tall and dirty and abandoned. Broken glass crunches under your feet as you turn a corner –

And come face to face with black veins and white faces, pupils shrunken in death.

Whirling away from bloody, grasping hands, you club the first zombie over the head with the butt of your gun. It falls. Bang. Dead. You twist around the mass of stilted limbs and race after Daeyeol, yelling for him to slow down as you run into the fray.

Bang. Bang bang bang. Gunshots lead you into a space between four buildings where the ground opens up to reveal what probably was a subway. A horde of zombies claws at a tall bus stranded in the square, a lone man standing on top.

Him. Your eyes zero in on the tall figure, gun in hand that he aims at the zombies. There are too many, though, even if there don’t seem to be more coming.

Daeyeol scrambles on top of an abandoned car. You quickly follow. The man hasn’t caught sight of you just yet, still focused on avoiding zombies that get too close. There’s only a matter of time before they sense your presence and start chasing you instead.

Think. Think!

“You pick them off,” you gasp. “Pick them off from here.”

He nods. “Watch the back. Help me if I run out.”

You turn around. Back to back, you raise your guns, aim, and begin to fire.

Your gunshots and the allure of more meat turn deadened eyes and bloody mouths your way. Trampling over their shot companions, they lurch over to your car, stumbler closer even as you pick them away.

One. Two. Three. Each of your last thirteen bullets has to make a difference. Gritting your teeth against the smell of rotting flesh that still makes you gag even after so many weeks on the road, you shoot down another zombie that’s gotten too close and lock eyes with the man still standing on the bus roof.

The horde has thinned. The groaning has decreased. Zombies still claw at the roof, but if he jumps far enough and runs fast enough, he’ll make it.

“JUMP!” you scream, another bullet embedding itself into a head caked in dried blood. Three bullets left. “NOW!”

An uncertain glance. Daeyeol shoots away another clawing hand and glares at his still figure. “JUMP!”

He jumps.

Lands.

Pitches onto the ground.

Not far enough.

Zombies lurch forward, rotting arms reaching for the man who’s still scrambling to stand. You want to scream. He isn’t going to make it, all of this was for nothing, you’ve wasted ten bullets – eleven, now, as another tears into a zombie head – on a rescue mission that’s going to fail –

Daeyeol jumps down from the car and fires a last shot that goes haywire before grabbing the man and literally dragging him forward, narrowly missing a lurching zombie.

“DAEYEOL!” You jump from the car, kicking away a clawing hand. “YOU FUCKING IDIOT –”

He begins to turn, helping the man stumble forward. Something’s happened to his leg. Your eyebrows furrow – God, you’re going to have words with Daeyeol about putting himself in unnecessary danger when you all are out of this – as you grab at one of the stranger’s arms, dragging him across the bloody square.

All facing the same direction, none of you notice several leftover zombies creeping up from behind.

Daeyeol yells. His hand releases the stranger’s wrist and you watch in disbelief as skeletal, bloody hands drag him backward.

You scream. Fingers fumble for your gun that still has two rounds left, two rounds, more than enough –

But Daeyeol is already staring in disbelief at the blood seeping through a prominent bite mark on the top of his arm that’s beginning to turn black.

No.

No!

Letting go of the stranger with a shriek, you raise both hands and shoot away the zombie still hanging onto Daeyeol’s shoulder. But you have only one bullet left in your gun and there are several zombies lurching towards you and it doesn’t even matter because Daeyeol’s been bitten, you’ve made it halfway home already and he’s been bitten –

Disbelieving eyes meet yours. Something crumbles in his expression and in his gaze you see everything – pain, horror, care, love, determination, resolve.

“Go,” he chokes, stepping backward directly into the path of the remaining undead. “Go!”

Tears blur your vision. “Daeyeol –”

“TAKE HIM AND GO!”

Dimly, you register a hand closing around your trembling wrist, dragging you back, away from your best friend of over twenty years, away from one of your last anchors to life. Gunshots tear through the air and you blink in time to see two of the zombies fall, Daeyeol gritting his teeth as he pulls the trigger on his gun again. And again.

He locks eyes with you once more. His gaze shines with twenty years of friendship and memories as he steps backward over and over, luring the last zombies away.

His instructions pound through your head. Go. Go. Take him and go.

Take him and go!

Your mind screams to stay but your body turns traitor, latching onto the stranger’s arm and stumbling between buildings, back in the direction of the car. He doesn’t move fast but you drag him along, shoes crunching glass and bricks and dried blood.

Something turns your head back in time for the last shot. It doesn’t split a zombie’s skull.

Instead, you watch the muzzle of Daeyeol’s gun fall away from his temple as he collapses to the ground.

Dead.

Dead. Dead. Your best friend is dead. Dead. Dead. Daeyeol is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead dead dead dead your best friend is dead dead dead Daeyeol’s dead dead dead he’s dead dead dead dead dead he’s DEAD HE’S DEAD –

With a burst of strength you didn’t know you had, you haul the stranger forward to the car still parked on the street. Tossing open the passenger door, you shove him in, then throw yourself into the driver’s seat.

You jam the key into the ignition, turn it and hear the engine sputter to life. Instinct alone moves your limbs, foot pressing down on the gas, hands clenching the wheel so hard your knuckles burn.

Tears stream down your face as you drive into the setting sun.

. . . . .

The car dies ten miles down the road. Far enough to escape straggling zombies.

Not far enough to escape bloody memories.

You curse loudly, slamming a hand on the steering wheel as if it’ll do anything (it won’t. You don’t need two degrees in mechanical engineering to have that measure of common fucking sense). Next to you, the boy remains quiet, barely looking over as you hit the wheel again. And again.

It doesn’t bring Daeyeol back.

Still, you give the steering wheel one more whack before throwing open the car door to kick the vehicle in the side once. Twice.

“Don’t injure yourself.”

Ah. So he speaks. Mystery boy’s voice is a little higher than you expected. If you’d met him before the apocalypse, you might even say it was smooth. Nice. Like a singer’s.

Like Daeyeol’s.

You kick the car a third time, insides writhing.

And you hate it.

It’s irrational, of course, fully irrational. He hasn’t done anything to earn your anger. It’s probably not his fault he got cornered by a horde of zombies. It definitely isn’t his fault Daeyeol has – had – Jesus Christ, you can’t think of him in the past tense, your knees are already going wobbly and the tears are coming again – a stupid selfless streak that ultimately got him killed –

But how dare he speak. How dare he use his voice to warn you not to injure yourself when Daeyeol is the one who should be sitting there saying that. Daeyeol should be the one telling you to take care of yourself when the anger, the stress, the sheer enormity of the world and your own insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe start getting to your head.

If this boy hadn’t been in trouble, Daeyeol would still be here. He’d be here, alive, and though you’d still be stuck ten miles down the fucking road, at least he wouldn’t be dead. Dead because he sacrificed himself for a guy caught in the middle of a zombie horde on top of a fucking bus whom neither of you even knows.

With the last of your strength, you slam the car door shut before you say something you’ll regret. Sinking down on the dirty, empty highway, you close your eyes and take a shuddering breath.

You don’t cry. You just sit there, eyes staring into the darkness of your closed lids. There’s no telling how much time passes until a car door opens and shuts.

There’s a soft grunt. A gasp of pain. Then a presence settles itself on your side of the car, hovering over your still body.

Your fists clench. Unclench. It’s not his fault. Not his fault. Not his fault, not his fault, not his fault –

You open your eyes to stare flatly at the boy standing over you. “Yes?”

He flinches. It must have come out more accusatory than you wanted. You don’t do anything, though, only stare as he keeps standing, leg shifting awkwardly.

Not shifting. You lower your gaze, narrowing your eyes at his trembling limbs. Your mind flashes back to him jumping off the bus, the noise with which he landed, the way he was limping slightly as first Daeyeol, then you dragged him away.

He’s injured. No bones broken since he can still support his weight, but maybe a fracture. Something you don’t have the capacity to heal with anything but time.

Time that you don’t have.

“I…” He swallows. “I wanted to thank you. For helping – saving me.”

For some reason, that rubs you the wrong way.

“Don’t thank me.” Your voice slices the air, bitterly caustic. “Thank my friend. He’s the one who wanted to help.” You look away. “You know, the one who’s dead.”

He flinches again, hard enough to stumble backward. Only the car keeps him from falling over. A pang of guilt hits at your sharp words, but anger and grief for Daeyeol keep it at bay. “You can stay the night,” you say, still averting your gaze. “Take the backseat. Not like I’ll be driving any fucking further.” You stand and kick the car again, this time leaving a dent in the rusty metal. “Gonna have to go back to walking…”

Walking.

Your mouth goes dry.

This is the first time you’ll be walking alone. No Daeyeol to watch your back, no knowledge that someone who’s known you for over twenty years will be at your side. That’s gone, all of it. Gone with his death.

The thought ices your veins. You just want to curl into a ball and cry. But that’s not an option, not with this mystery boy enclosed in the same space as you, so you just throw open the door and slide back inside. He follows a little more cautiously, gingerly entering the car and closing his door softly before sitting in the back.

You sigh. “Close it fully.”

He blinks up at you in the grimy rearview mirror.

“Close the door fully,” you snap. “If a zombie manages to get in because you didn’t close it properly, we’re both fucked.”

It stings a little to be so rude, especially when he only opens the door again like you said and shuts it with more force. But nothing changes the fact that Daeyeol died for him, a person he didn’t even know, and that this boy is the reason why Daeyeol isn’t sitting next to you in the passenger seat, his silent, familiar presence comforting you into sleep.

A tear blinks out of your closed eyes. Why? you want to scream. Why did he do it? Why did he always want to help everybody, even if he knew it might come at the cost of his own life?

You know the answer. Humanity. Daeyeol told you every time you asked, every time you had another brush with death to save anyone you could. He had to keep faith, had to believe that there was something, anything he could do to alleviate some of the pain brought on by this tragedy.

It’s why you always admired him, were so loyal to him from the day you two first became friends in elementary school. Daeyeol always believed in strength that comes from kindness, believed in helping those who couldn’t always help themselves. It’s why you always followed him into the fight, regardless of how much you wanted to shove him back in the car and just drive away.

Bitterness lodges in a lump in your throat.

So much for humanity when all that kindness just got him killed.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for Daeyeol’s soul :/)

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unkownknowledge · 3 years

Text

OC: CHAOS GOD OF THE VOID, GIOTA

story I'm still working on your requests don't worry, I just wanted to make a few character sheets since I'm not focused enough rn. I'll finish it when I take my meds though I promise.

And this isn't an oc for any show, rather a character from a multiversal mythos I'm making

also, an important term to understand this: 1 god year=5 billion years

_____________________

Description:

Giota is a very hot and cool Giota stop changing the text! Atleast change your style of writing so the reader can undead immediately Aw but wheres the fun GIOTA

Fine mister fun police, I'll write like this then. And I'll be cooler than you

Young man I wil... forget it, back on track:

Giota is a shapeshifting god of chaos, void, technological progress, freedom, and being a dramatic bitch.

Hey! I'm not a bitch!....maybe a little

When appearing before mortals he'll often take on the form the viewer imagines when they think of a god of chaos would appear as. Often times when the user knows the basic descriptions of Giota from the 'book of tales' will see him as a angel like statue of bones with numerous cracks, no face, and organ pipe wings.

When meeting with gods outside his domain or when he must meet mortals in a set form, he will take on simple, 10ft tall humanoid form with bone skin, a cracked mouth that cracks more when he speaks, two different colored eyes, and longer than floor length black hair. One of his eyes will be crying water that burns upwards, while the other cries fire that flows downwards. In this form he wears a black trenchcoat, green turtleneck, and purple dad pants.

What the fuck are dad pants?

You know, those usually brown pants that are kinda jeans but soft and actually comfortable.

YOU BITCH MY HUSBAND LIKES JEANS AND HIS PANTS ARE SOFT!

YOUR HUSBAND HAS MARSHMALLOW THIGHS! LITERALLY! OF COURSE HIS PANTS ARE SOFT!

Inside his own domain, or if he's feeling especially done with whatever poor bastard made him upset, Giota takes the form of an innocent ten year old child with soft white steel skin, mile long black hair made of silk, and black eyes made of diamonds. In this form he wears pajamas for to big for him, his mouth leads to a dark void, and he carries around two plushies: a bunny made of roses from his mom, and a plush of his adult form from his husband. Of course he becomes an adult if they do anything adult, so please don't start.

Regardless of his form, even when it's based on the perspective of others, he always wears a large knitted infinity scarf his husband made for whenever he wanted to hide away.

_____________________

Powers:

Cool ones

I mean, he's not wrong...

(I should make an ice themed character)

Giota, as a god, has numerous powers related to his domains.

powers of freedom:

inspiring presence- while most gods or beings of power inspire mortals and lesser beings of power to kneel down or bow, Giota’s presence inspires all beings to rise up, to do anything, to do whatever they want, to become the best they can be. this can be used to inspire allies to carry on. However Giota can also let this power run rampant, and free the mind of any shackles, and while this sounds good it really just means removing all morals and causing mass violence, and if he lets it run rampant while in the same dimension he lets it then all life will mutate into eldritch monstrosities of decadence and selfishness. According to him this is to show that balance must be kept between chaos and law.

the torch of liberty- among Giota’s duties as a god of freedom is to liberate the populations of ‘doomed realms’ that have been enslaved. essentially, if a planet in a universe is ruled purely by either law or chaos then the entire universe can be effected, in the case of law it can result in the entire universe becoming one collective conscious. while it’s not common that enslaved worlds occur, however when they do they are the most dangerous of law worlds. to combat worlds like this gods of freedom are given torches that free the minds of the enslaved and bring down holy fire upon the enslavers in the form of the collective will of all the freed people.

powers of technological progress:

cybernetic god-many god-years ago Giota was severely wounded by a rogue god of flesh and a rogue god of metal, to the point even he could not regenerate it. to stop him from dying a cult of his granted Giota cybernetic enhancements. these enhancements integrated into Giota’s flesh as it regenerated and became enhanced in turn by Giota’s divinity, and Giota’s divine power was enhanced then by the cybernetics, resulting in a self sustaining growth in power. while he gladly used this to stop the rogue gods, and once again to destroy an old one, he feels being that powerful would upset the balance of power, so he sealed it in a time lock in time with the seasons and time of day in the void. his power increases from mid day to mid night, and from the end of summer to the end of winter. in the minute of exactly midnight at the end of winter, Giota becomes, in both this multiverse and the old, the most powerful being to exist.

self evolving knowledge- because his position as a god of technology is artificial his powers in it are very weak, being able to only grant full sentience and sapience to machines. he can also create minor miracles of technology, such as summoning a clockwork toy(which he does often)

hey man did you really have to bring up the whole getting my ass kicked thing?

yes, now shut up before I bring up what you sing in the shower

....fucker....

powers of being dramatic:

yeah that wasn't a joke. Giota is the god of being over the top, stylish, and over all flair. in other words, being dramatic

personal sound track- he can cause any song he wants to play when he does anything.

lights, camera, ACTION!- whenever he wants, Giota can cause a bright, sparkling light to emit from his body or behind himself.

my favorite is that one bad bitch’s theme. what’s her name again?

Ragyo Kiyurin?

that's the fucker! terrible taste in morals, but damn does she know how to enter a room.

...can I put sigh when it’s supposed to be me sighing?

powers of the god of chaos

Chaotic existence- for Giota to even exist is, in and of itself, a paradox. he comes from a timeline that never existed, that was on a set path, yet he exist, and he changed the course of the timeline. when he became a chaos god he became a paradox within a paradox, he existed yet did not. to attempt to change any aspect of his being, to take in any part of his being, is to know that which is not there to know, to understand that which is not there, you have to be able to comprehend the very essence of nonexistence to even bare a hair of his getting in your mouth. such a thing easily drives all things that try insane, to the point that every part of their conscience believes that it does not exist.

overwhelming power-chaos gods are only once a multiverse, and with the title comes pure power. such power could turn an infant into an indestructible warrior, however since Giota was already at that level on a mortal scale, and already capable of taking on powerful gods, this power sets him among the highest echelons of divine might.

powers of the god of void

key to nonexistence- the god of the void is the only being who can open the bridge between that which exist and that which does not

rapid regeneration- the void god has an innate ability to regenerate from nearly all damage, even if they are ground to a fine paste. this regeneration is enhanced by the cybernetic enhancements.

speed of darkness- the void god has an innate speed that surpasses light, Giota’s already superhuman speed was enhanced by this.

spear of not- the void god is the sole being in existence and non existence who can wield the spear of not, a finely forged weapon. it is not special beyond being enchanted to withstand godly power and a ‘security lock’ enchantment, however it is still a very well made weapon.

blah blah blah, enough about what I was handed, tell them about my mortal abilities

as Giota just said, and as I’ve brought up before, Giota is extremely powerful even without his powers, he also used to be two other mortals that were less powerful. but over all these were his powers, which he still has.

leather skin- while it might appear or feel like something else, Giota’s skin is exactly like leather armor. this comes from how he was raised as a child to be a powerful warrior and his skin was tanned into hide and treated while it was still on him.

adamantine bone- Giota’s bones were also replaced by an adamantine skeleton when he was a child.

super sonic speeds- during his training as a child, he was taught to be able to surpass the sound barrier on foot.

superhuman strength- his training also trained his body to carry ten tons, however as a mortal he improved that strength to the point he could exert enough force to blast away entire cities by blinking. This power did not come easy.

flight- after training with some monks late in his life, Giota was able to walk on the air, essentially he could fly at the same speed as he could run.

agility- he was trained as a warrior and assassin, so Giota’s training included advanced maneuverability training, including wall running, sneaking across tripwires, etc.

weapon master- Giota is a master in all weapons and various forms of martial arts.

he also has reciev- hey man you good?

I-I’m fine! d-don’t write that I’m crying!

you...wanna talk about it?

…no...

is it about your mom?

…maybe...

alright take your time.

anyway Giota has a very useful piece of equipment, the cloak of maternity- despite it’s name, it’s actual a cloak that leads to a pocket dimension where Giota carries his weapons and toys. It is called the cloak of maternity because his adoptive mother gave him after he became a god-bounty hunter, she even designed it to help him hide away from people. it even has a designated snack pocket.

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BIO:

Giota was found by his adoptive mother after he destroyed his timeline, as punishment, or perhaps in an attempt to redeem him, she turned him back into a baby. something Giota happily accepted.

After this his life went on as a mortal’s would, only in the realm of divinity: he went to school, went into college, graduated, then entered the workforce. granted the workforce he entered was bounty hunting divine criminals. it was easy for him to get into, after all everything from his past life transferred over to this one, it wasn't long before he was hunting even the deadliest of criminals. while his mom was very supportive, it was still difficult for him to keep in contact with her as he did before moving out, and being a bounty hunter was hardly a sociable job. it wasn't long before Giota fell into depression, and then to drugs. for twenty three god years his life was an endless cycle of contract killing, payment, and wallowing in chemical joy. But at the end of all blinding lights, there is a welcoming darkness.

Giota had become the personal bounty hunter of the god of law and time: Ceerus. one day while leaving after receiving a contract, he met the god’s child, a boy his age named Dyalta.

It was thanks to Dyalta that Giota ever kicked drugs, or got out of depression, and thanks to Dyalta Giota managed to find happiness in anything other than a syringe.

Even the reason he found love.

rise to godhood

Giota became a god after an old god, named the Red slaughter, destroyed the entire universe. this was a catalyst for Giota, who had died previously, to return with his newly awakened god powers. I don't want to go into to much detail in this aspect as I intend to write it at some point.

_____________________

hey man you good yet?

a little bit. Dyalta came by and gave me some cookies.

that's good buddy, I’m gonna describe your personality ok?

alright.. I’m gonna go home now.

alright man, take care.

_____________________

personality

do note that this is a bit hard for me to do. I’m more used to just writing a character. I’ll just post two short stories here to try and get his personality across. I made them in school last year.

ok so after looking at it the second one is twelve pages long. so I’m gonna post that elsewhere on here. to give context: this is after a wedding between Dyalta and Giota was interrupted. if you’d like to see more about him then feel free to interact or request him.

elavator story

Giota shifted uncomfortably to make room for his soon to be father in law as the man stepped into the lift.

“Soooooo…” Giota pressed their floor “wonderful, um, siege we’re having.”

Ceerus just keeps his eyes on the door “sure.”

“So how's the uh, wife?”

Ceerus sighed “locked in a tower, that we are invading.”

“Mhm, yup.”

‘Maybe I should try calling him dad.’

“So what did you think of my swordsmanship d-dad.”

Ceerus visibly restrained himself “it was fine ten- Giota.”

The elevator stopped, probably because of security.

“Oh maker damnit,” Ceerus tries rewinding the shut off, but it doesn't work “and it’s godproofed!”

“This reminds of this one time me and Dyalta wen-”

Ceerus put his hand to Giota’s mouth “if you end this story in anything less than fully clothed I will end your fake hide.”

Giota scratches his head nervously “Well I didn't, but Dyalta lost his shirt and well,” Giota notice Ceerus drawing his blade “b-but it was for a sword fi- wait bad wording, it was for a-you know- assasination thing!”

Ceerus sighed and sheathed his sword “look, you dusting mongrel, I don’t like you, you pretend to like me, let’s just try and not kill each other and maybe by the end of this, I won’t flay your ass at the altar.”

Well atleast now they both agreed on something: this was going to be a long crusade.

________________________________________________________________

ok that's that! not a very good character sheet but hopefully it got enough across to be interesting. I’ll end this off with some quotes I want him to say but have never gotten the chance to write out:

“hey Ceerus how’s the kid? oh thats right! in my bed, waiting patiently.” following Ceerus being exceptionally annoying.

“you know something? I try to be nice, I always smile, always banter with my targets. you know, try and be friendly. but then some RED MOTHERFUCKER, POSSESSES MY HUSBAND, WAKING ME UP FROM ETERNAL SLUMBER, AND NOW I ONCE AGAIN HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE GOD’S MESSES!”

*crying into Dyalta* “and then he said my clothes were stupid,” *sobbing* “I tried really hard on these!”

“this multiverse, to us gods, is wet paper mache. so easy to break, one wrong move and POP,” Giota flexes his finger and causes an ocean to split open for a solid ten seconds, “the very fabric of reality is gone. and you. you insuferable MOTHER FUCKERS have the AUDACITY TO COME IN HERE, AND TEAR IT ALL TO SHREDS! well assholes, if this reality is paper mache to you, and I’m stronger than you, take a wild gues as to what you are to me.”

(tagging: @storytravelled, @3lectro-heart, @genshin-obsessed)

#tw drugs #oc

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