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hotchscvm · 3 years

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best friend’s daddy - part three

Warnings: dark!andy barber, language, mentions of age difference, mentions of sex, underage drinking, pregnancy

Word count: 4.8k

Summary: A series of snapshots with your past and current life with Andy Barber.

[highly requested—and i mean highly]

masterlist

Newton, MA - 2017 Homecoming Game

He saw you immediately, shamelessly staring at the bright, yet fake smile slapped on your face as you posed for the picture. Andy's eyes drifted to the football players arms around your waist, too far down for the assistant district attorney's liking, not that he could do anything about it. He was unable to contain the eye roll when one of the players pressed a quick kiss on your cheek while you looked at the camera.

Andy knew he had no right feeling that way. He knew you thought he hated you. The glares, the tone he used, the disapproval glances he gave Jacob whenever you were with him. It was enough evidence for you to think he didn't want you around. He didn't. But not for the same reasons as you think.

Jacob ran past him, pulling you into a hug as the players around you ran back to their pre-game huddle, hyping themselves up. He heard your laugh, his previous annoyance washing away as he listened, wishing he didn't have to keep up his act. Instead, he watched from afar, noticing the fake smile replaced by a genuine one as you hugged your best friend, your cheer skirt rising before dropping back to it's already short length as soon as Jacob let you go.

Like the years before, Laurie didn't come to the homecoming game, claiming she was far too busy with work but Andy wasn't dumb. He could see it in her face everyday, helplessly watching his wife distance herself from him. But he couldn't blame her; he was doing the same. After all, not everything is supposed to last forever.

He secretly admired you, silently praising your will to pursue the career you wanted despite the very many attempts, and lectures from your parents about becoming a lawyer. Andy had gotten calls from them, more than happy to show you around the building with your parents hope of you magically being interested in what they had planned. But you were stubborn, and you hadn't backed down. He was impressed.

You glanced at Andy, surprised he wasn't glaring at you but rather staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite place, and you quickly diverted your eyes back to Jacob. "I'm so glad you came! Thank you for not being a total nerd tonight."

"My dad practically dragged me out of the house, grumbling about how I had to support my best friend when she's on the cheerleading team." Jacob explained, motioning to his father, the older Barber climbing the stairs as he claimed a spot on the bleachers next to your father. "I think it was just an excuse to watch a game that didn't feature the Patriots."

Once again, you were surprised. As said before, you thought he didn't care for your presence; to hear he wanted his son to support you was surprisingly shocking no matter how small it was. "Oh. Looks like he and Dad are gossiping again. Your mom didn't come?"

"No, she had work. What about yours?" asked Jacob.

"Business trip." you answered, sarcasm dripping from your voice. You saw the Instagram posts her friends posted, the so-called business trip had turned into a vacation with the girls. You heard your name being yelled, your cheer squad waving you over. Turning back to Jacob, you smiled. "They're calling me over so I gotta go. I'll find you after halftime, okay? We can ditch."

Jacob arched a brow, the corner of his lips twitching up. "But you're head cheerleader. Aren't you supposed to stay for the whole game?"

"Nah, Leila can take over after halftime. I'll just make up an excuse and say I went off with a guy or something." you said, tightening your ponytail. "Oh, and don't use the last stall in the boy's bathroom. Pretty sure someone had sex in that."

"Pretty sure that someone was you." he replied, grinning as you flipped him off. He laughed when you nearly ran into toddler, apologizing to the little person before running to the squad.

Jacob joined Andy and your father, answering questions from your dad, and listening to the two fathers talk about the mundane life as the game started. Andy's vision kept drifting off to you, cheering on the sidelines as the game, accidentally missing parts of the game. Not that he minded to much, he had a nice view, and he knew the score. It wasn't that much of an inconvenience for him.

Before halftime, you snuck away, going into the school to grab another hair tie from your locker. Thankfully, the field was close to the west side of the school, the locker bay only a short walk from the entrance. Coincidentally, just as you walked towards the bathroom with the hair tie, Andy bumped into you, the phone in his hand dropping to the floor.

"Oh, shit." you cursed, quickly bending down, grabbing the phone and handing it back to your best friend's dad. "Sorry, Mr. Barber, I wasn't looking."

Andy sighed, studying his phone instead of giving into the urge to comfort your tense state. For the millionth time, he wished he didn't have to act like a dick to you. "It's fine. Just watch where your going or you might head into the mens' room."

Not knowing whether he was serious or not, you gave an awkward nod, walking pass him. You hadn't seen the lingering glance he gave you before walking back to the game. Pushing on the bathroom door, you let yourself drown in your jitters, hyping yourself up before coming back and performing.

You had forgotten about Andy by the time you returned.

—

Newton, MA - May 14, 2018

Andy heard the knock, getting out of his seat to unlock the door. A presence befall him, a feeling he only got when you were nearby. With that thought, he immediately opened the door, greeted by the sight of you soaking from the rainfall, shivering, eyes slightly swollen, and downright miserable.

He called out your name in surprise, shocked to see you in such a messy state, let alone see you in his office. "What happened? Come in, come in. Are you okay?"

"Sorry, I—" you shivered, biting your lip to keep from spilling every problem you had faced on him. "It was raining so hard that I had to stop so I wouldn't crash or anything. And this was the closest building I parked to. I ran inside but I guess it didn't make any difference seeing how soaked I am."

Andy wrapped his jacket around your shoulders, unable to find a stray blanket or anything warm to give you. He led you to the leather couch, softly pushing you down to sit on it. "Come here, sit down. Did school end early?"

"No, um, I skipped." you sniffed, sinking down on the leather, letting Andy's coat fall over your shoulders. "I had a fight with my mom. A big one. So, I didn't exactly feel that great to come to school and I've been driving around since eight."

"Sweetheart, you're soaked. You're going to get sick." Andy murmured, wiping his warm hand over your forehead, the little droplets of water wetting his hand. "I have some clean clothes in my gym bag. Tell me what you were fighting about, it might make you feel better."

You watched him grab his duffel bag from under his desk, opening your mouth to protest but the cold, wet clothes made you close it. "I made some backhand comment about having a job in fashion, then she just blew up. She wants me to be a lawyer, go to the best schools, and be successful even if I'm not happy. I told her to fuck off, yelling that I'll do what I want. She didn't like that answer, so I grabbed my keys and drove around."

Andy gave you his Patriots shirt, and a clean pair of sweats, taking his wet jacket from you. You whispered a thank you, before taking off your dripping shirt, not caring Andy was watching. He cleared his throat, diverting his eyes away from your half-naked body. "Well, what did you want to be? What do you want to do after school?"

"I don't really know, except for the fact that I don't want to be a lawyer, that's for sure." you replied, putting on the sweatpants Andy gave you, relishing in the warmth. "I'm sorry for getting your couch wet, I—"

"It's okay, don't worry about it, sweetheart. Are you okay, now? Do you want me to do something about it?" Andy asked, unsure to hug you so he settled for an awkward pat on your shoulder, moving closer to you.

You scoffed, fidgeting with the hem of the large Patriots t-shirt, rolling your eyes at the question. "Trust me, there's nothing you could do about it. They're both so persistent on me being this successful lawyer that it doesn't matter if I want to be one. Tell me, Mr. Barber, what's so fucking great about being one?"

He bit back a smile, shifting on the couch until he was touching you, the serotonin you gave him encouraged Andy to brush back your dripping hair behind your ear, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. With wide eyes, and a slight frown, you meet his eyes. "Well, firstly, you're able to help people. In layman's terms, you either can defend a client, or prosecute a criminal. Putting the bad guys away. Um, you can meet new people, have some experiences that's unlikely for others. But, you're right. You shouldn't have to do what you're parents have planned for you."

"Try telling them that." you sniffled, goosebumps appearing on your arms, subconsciously leaning your cheek on Andy's hand. He heard the angelic sigh escape from your lips, his smile appearing. "Thank you for the clothes and everything Mr. Barber."

"Don't mention it." he replied, bravely wrapping his arms around your slightly shivering body. Andy felt you tense for a few moments before slowly relaxing, shifting so he could rest his chin on your head, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your back. After a few minutes of silence, Andy reluctantly broke the silence. "Would you like me to call Jacob?"

He saw the flash of hurt in your eyes before you composed your expression, nodding slowly as you pulled away. "Yeah, I'll call him. He has free period so he won't be missing anything, I promise. Sorry for keeping you from work, Mr. Barber."

Andy shook his head, helping you up from the couch. "No, no, no. I just had some papers to go through, you didn't keep me from anything. The rain is slowing but you can stay in here until Jake comes. If you want."

You nodded, giving him a weak smile. "Thank you."

—

The Barber House - June 1, 2018

Giggling uncontrollably, you leaned against Jacob, a bottle of beer in your hand. Jacob laughed over the cartoon character with you, throwing his head back at the ridiculous scene on screen. Scooby had just stared at the screen, ending the episode, the screen turning black before another episode started. The noise Scooby made just had you and Jacob in another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

The sleepover had been spontaneous, yet long way overdue. In less than a week, you'd have graduated, and moved out of Boston, living in New York City as you went to the same college. That was one of the upside of finally leaving Newton, but even with the continuous nagging from your parents, you were still going to miss them.

You had been extra quiet, knowing full well Andy was stressed for something Laurie had done, the wife walking out of the house just as you had pulled up on the driveway. She had given you a friendly greeting, asking questions about graduation, before hugging you and driving away in her car. You knew it was bad as soon as you entered the house, seeing Andy glaring at the kitchen counter as you waited for Jacob to come save you. Thankfully, you didn't have to make small talk with the lawyer.

But the his tense expression was enough to keep you quiet in Jacob's room. Well, until he turned up with beers he had gotten from a mutual friend of yours, Cory Gilbert, the bartender at the bar and grill you and Jacob frequented at. He was over 21, legally able to buy the beer, giving it to Jacob as a present for graduation. Cory had given you a nice bottle of brandy, but you had decided to save it for graduation night instead.

Getting drunk hadn't been hard, for Jacob anyways; it took more than a few pleads from your already drunk friend to convince you to drink with him. Once you did, you felt the liquid slightly burn down your throat and you greeted the giddy feeling it left you. Soon, you were found leaning against Jacob's bed, sitting on the floor as the both of you cackled at the animations playing on the screen.

Andy still hadn't came up to hush the both of you; and to be honest, you weren't sure to be relieved or disappointed. You settled for relieved once as you saw Scooby and Shaggy running away from a "monster."

It was half past ten when you finally got up from your spot on the floor, leaving Jacob to drunkenly slur at his phone while the tv played in the background. Getting up, you headed to the bathroom, careful not to make anymore sounds than you already had. You were too drunk to notice Andy standing outside his door, arms crossed as he amusingly stared at your little tip-toe walk to the bathroom.

You finished your business, washing your hands, and heading back to Jacob's room when you lost your footing and stumbled into Andy's arms. You yelped in alarm, glad for the muscular arms that caught you. Looking up, you saw what your drunk brain could only describe as Adonis. You smiled, patting his pec as you slurred. "Thank you, Mr. Barber."

"How drunk are you, sweetheart?" Andy asked, not letting you go. He felt you swaying slightly in his arms, bringing you closer to his chest until your face was only a couple of inches away from his. His eyes flickered to your lips, his tongue licking his own. "You look flushed."

Giggling, you couldn't help but grin at the human contact. You had been so sure he hated you, but from your current position, your assumption seemed silly. "You're making me blush. Me and Jacob haven't been drank—drinking that much, pinky swear."

He snickered at the tiny slip up with your grammar, the slowness and laziness in your voice evidence enough if it hadn't been for the burst of confidence, and shouts from Jacob's room. "You shouldn't be lying, especially to a lawyer. Let's get you sobered up, wouldn't want you waking up with a bitch of a hangover tomorrow, now would we?"

Andy places a hand on your back, his hand intertwining with yours as he tried to lead you downstairs safely but you halted in the middle of the hallway, laughing as you sneaked behind him. You tapped his shoulder, trying to push him down. "Gimme a piggy back ride, Mr. Barber. Like the ones you gave me when I was four!"

The lawyer burst out laughing, finding your drunk confidence adorable. He couldn't help but agree, squatting down enough for you to climb onto his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, your arms locking around his neck. Andy held your legs in place with his hands, shifting you upwards so you rested comfortably on his back. Turning his head, he raised an eyebrow. "You ready, princess?"

You nodded in response, your hair ticking his neck as you snuggled closer to his neck, nuzzling your cheek. All the alcohol had rushed to your head. Andy walked down the stairs, careful to keep his grip on you as he did so. He heard all the tiny giggles and gasps you made, his bad mood dissolving with each sound. He couldn't remember a time Laurie had made him that happy.

Reaching the kitchen, Andy sat you down on the kitchen island, reluctantly letting you go as he went to grab a glass of water. He gave you the glass, but you rejected it, too busy looking at the game on the tv, seeing past the arch and into the living room.

He set the glass on the counter, leaning against it as he crossed his arms, staring at the mesmerized—and drunk—girl in admiration. You turned your attention back on him as soon as the commercials rolled, catching him ogling you. Blushing, you giggled once again, waving him over.

Curious, Andy stepped towards you, surprised when you gripped the collar of his shirt, dragging him closer to you until he was only a couple of inches away. Leaning in, you whispered in his ear. "I have a secret."

"What is it?" Andy asked, one word away from kissing his son's best friend. The tension radiating from interaction had him weak, helpless from the very tempting chance to take you right there and then.

Cupping your hand around your lips, you felt him snake between your legs, bringing you even closer. With your lips near his ear, you whispered, "I have the biggest crush on you. Sometimes I wish you were single so I could ride you until I physically can't."

Andy growled, his hands digging into your waist as his lips hovered over yours, his blue eyes piercing yours. He murmured your name, so close to losing all of his control.

"Every time I come over, I hope you'd push me against a wall, rip my shirt off and fuck a baby in me." you confessed, loving his body warmth. His grip had tighten on you to the point it was borderline painful, but you relished in it, the alcohol numbing the rational thoughts in your head as they screamed at you to shut up.

The lawyer was so close to doing what you wanted, nearly taking you right there. But much to his dismay, his morals had held him back; surely all it would take would be another sentence murmured from your lips but he considered himself strong. "Sweetheart..."

Just as Andy's lips brushed over yours, loud, heavy footsteps made him pull away, spotting his son drunkenly enter the kitchen. You smiled brightly at Jacob as if you hadn't been about to kiss his father. Andy raised an eyebrow at his son, irritated for interrupting. "Jacob, what're you doing?"

"I—" the boy frowned, forgetting momentarily on what he was doing. Jacob pointed at you, returning a random wave. "I was looking for her, because I got worried she fell in the toilet or something."

"She's fine, I was just sobering her up." Andy answered before you could, reluctantly helping you off the table, wishing he had a few more minutes alone with you. "Don't let your mom see all those bottles when she gets home. She won't be lenient as I am."

Jacob saluted in response, watching his dad help his best friend off the table. He was too drunk to notice the longing looks you had exchanged with Andy. "Okay, dad. Night."

Andy stood in the kitchen, alone, watching his girl giggle at something his son whispered. With more confidence than ever, he pulled out the manila envelope from the kitchen drawer, placing it on the table. Laurie would find it when she comes back.

—

Newton, MA - July 4, 2021

"You're so fat." Jacob commented, eyes widening when he felt the baby kick. Without much thought, he invaded your personal space, placing his cheek against your stomach. You sighed, rolling your eyes at your best friend. Jacob chuckled. "This little guy is gonna be a soccer superstar. Like Cristiano Ronaldo."

Andy chuckled from the driver's seat, pulling into the driveway, pulling Jacob off your stomach and back to his seat. "Don't antagonize her, Jake. She might rip your head off for breathing the same air without her permission."

Childishly, you stuck your tongue, making your baby daddy burst out laughing before as he turned off the car and opened the door. But you could hardly say his comment was an exaggeration, grimacing at the memory of nearly snapping Andy's arm off when he had forgotten the almond milk from the weekly visits to the grocery store. It had been both a blessing and curse to have Jacob in the outs of the pregnancy when that incident occurred. You hadn't wanted him to see the growing bump.

With the help of both Barbers, you got out of the car, carefully and slowly for the sake for both you and the babies. The two were chatting as they unloaded the baggage from trunk while you made your way to the house, reminiscing in the days when Jacob's glances weren't filled with betrayal, as if you had ripped his heart from his chest.

It wasn't everyday he looked at you with that raw emotion in his eyes—the betrayed looks had started to decrease the more time you spent together—yet you still felt guilty. With a hand over your growing belly, you opened the door, bombarded with memories from childhood, once again reminding you who you were having a baby with.

Once Jacob had sprinted out of the room, in anger and denial after seeing his father tangled in bed with his best friend, you had pushed Andy off you, wanting to go after him. When Andy argued it was better off for Jacob to be alone, you had blamed him for everything, for ruining the lifelong friendship with Jacob and weeks of stress caused by sleeping with him the first time. The lawyer hadn't denied the guilt or blame like you thought he would—like you wished he would—instead drowning in the insults you threw his way.

You didn't start to forgive him until Jacob came back, but then loathed him after the your best friend announced he needed some time and space to think it out, uncertain which conclusion he would come to. Thankfully, he couldn't live without you in his life, no matter how hard he tried, so he came running back, wishing for an apology when all you wanted to do was cry and wish you didn't have to spend two months without him.

Andy, like the charming bastard he is, had slowly broke down the wall of bricks made from your anger and hatred, and unwillingly, you let him in. Jacob had explained, quite awkwardly, he should be in no way a problem to yours and Andy's relationship, only to be slapped by the pregnancy news. Surprisingly, he kept it light and took it well.

Unsurprisingly to Andy, the fetus (he had been very upset when you occasionally called the baby that) had been conceived on Thanksgiving, proving the plan B useless. You had given up any pretenses at that point, and gave in to Andy's precautions no matter how ridiculous they had been; safety for the fetus.

Your parents had been content with the excuses you've made, only a little suspicious on not wanting to see them during the months of carrying the baby. The baby boy to be precise. But the lack of visiting since college was consistent enough for them to not rise suspicions.

You settled down on the couch, exhausted by the road trip despite how short it was. Newton was hardly small, but with Andy's former title, it wouldn't be long before rumors spread, and with rumors came exaggerated stories along with middle-aged women judging your life decisions because they had nothing to do all day other than sit in their lazy asses.

Andy and Jacob set the bags down by the doorway, Jacob letting out a huge sigh while his dad walked over to you, kissing your forehead. You couldn't help but smile at the gesture. He sat beside you, leaving no room to breathe.

"Hello, gorgeous."

"Ugh." Jacob groaned, turning his eyes away from the PDA. "Okay, I'm gonna go before any more of this happens. I'll see you guys for dinner."

Before you could ask, Jacob closed the door, practically sprinting to his car. Seeing his father in bed with his best friend had scarred him. You turned your attention back to Andy, head tilting in confusion. "Where's he going?"

"He's giving me some alone time with you. Had to pay him a few bucks after he complained about stealing you, but he'll manage for the next couple of hours." Andy explained, his hands absentmindedly stroking your belly, his smile beaming.

"What's happening in the next couple of hours that he can't be here for?" you asked, curious. The blast of hormones had been a gift Andy knew he didn't deserve, with you crawling over his body in the earlier months of the pregnancy, waking him up with lips wrapped around his cock. With his precautions for the baby, he'd been a tease for the past few weeks with the due date just barely two months away.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amusement. "It's not that, sweetheart." Andy chuckled at your pout, disappointed by the outcome. "I just wanted to spend some time with you."

You knew there was something more, but you let it go, one thing at the front of your mind. Your fingers clawed at his shirt, biting your lip. "Then let's spend some time together." Leaning closer, you softly nipped at his earlobe, whispering in his ear. "Daddy."

Andy murmured your name, stern and sure but the bulge in his pants deemed a different story. That was enough for you to stop seducing him. "You're going to be the death of me."

Laughing, you turned the tv on, cuddling next to the soft man. Well, as close to cuddling as you could with the belly in the way. Your feet had been sore despite the not having to walk much all day, but the road trip had taken a lot of your already drained energy. Andy understood, gently taking off your shoes and massaging your feet until they no longer felt sore.

Two hours were wasted watching true crimes documentaries, Andy passionately commenting on the evidence they clearly had missed, and voicing his opinions of who was clearly guilty. You muffled a giggle, amused by the former lawyer. It still surprised you to see Andy so ... light? The forehead creases only coming together when something had displeased you, no matter how tiny. Retiring must've done something to relieve the stress he carried.

It wasn't until the third Buzzfeed Unsolved episode came on that you got tired. Andy, sending the change, muted the screen, pressing a soft kiss on your close eyelids. He positioned you so you were leaning against him, your back to him as you laid on the couch, a hand over your growing stomach. Anxiety seeped through his veins.

Andy cleared his throat. Playing with your hair, he said, "Marry me."

Your eyes snapped open, growing wide as you pondered if you had heard him right. "What?"

He shrugged. "Marry me."

Andy had said if so casually, it wasn't a question, but a statement. Or more accurately, a demand. You turned around, putting space between you two. Your eyes were hurting from the lack of blinking. "What?"

He reached in his pocket, the small, velvet box that had rested uncomfortably in his pocket took your breath away. Andy opened the box, revealing a diamond, far too beautiful to look at. His smile widened, taking in your shocked expression. "Please marry me."

A minute of silence passed.

"You're fucking insane." you whispered, staring intently at his blue eyes who were sparkling in excitement. He knew the outcome.

Andy's smile hadn't wavered. "Is that a yes?"

"No!" you shouted, getting up from the cough. He stood up, his arms ready to catch your unbalanced body. You glared at him. "I'm not going to marry you because I'm pregnant! No! No, no, no. I forbid you to ask me that question until this baby is out of me."

He laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist. "So, when I ask in two months ... ?"

"You'll just have to see." you murmured. A smug smirk fell on his face, but this one was warmer, more heartfelt.

"You'll say yes."

You shrugged, but couldn't help the smile appearing. "Probably."

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#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #steve rogers #captain america #reader insert #dub con #dark!andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber x reader #pregnancy #mentions of dubious element #under age #defending jacob #jacob barber #laurie barber #andy barber fanfiction

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thestarswhim · 3 years

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Intertwining Connection

Summary: Since MK has Monkey King’s powers, wouldn’t they both have some sort of connection to each other?

An idea where MK might get a sense of what the Monkey King is feeling.

Words: 1,757

Notes: Descriptions of anxiety, but nothing major.

It was late at night, a few hours before MK would have to get ready for work, and there was barely any noise except for the occasional cars that drove by. So, it was a wonder when he woke up suddenly, gasping for air as if he just ran with all the strength he had left, and sat straight up.

He searched the whole room, alarmed, and confused, and uneasy — and when did he start using the golden vision thing? He blinked it away and rubbed at his eyes, trying to take deep breaths, but the weight still in his chest wasn’t letting up. Everything felt vague… like the feeling one would get after waking up from a dream, but… he couldn’t recall any of it if he did. The only thing that kept screaming at him was that someone was in danger. But, who?

He fidgeted slightly in his bed and clenched his blanket around his fists, causing it to scrunch up in his hands. He bit down on his tongue as he looked over to his gear and then slowly to the window — no. No, no, no, no, no. He was not going to just go out on impulse again and then end up finding nothing. He freaked about stuff like this before, where he felt something was wrong, and usually nothing bad actually happened until a few or more days after. And he took care of those things when they did happen. Most of the time. Besides, sometimes he was just overthinking things and nothing was wrong in the first place. So, he should breathe it in, breathe it out, go back to sleep, and not worry about it (for now), right?

...

But, still…

This felt different. It was more intense, as if it were a life or death situation, and that, by ignoring it, would be a grim, dark, scary mistake he did not want to consider.

There began an anxious sensation he didn’t feel before going down his back like some sort of chill, and it felt way too uncomfortable.

Okay. He should probably go and find that someone.

He quickly got out of bed, stumbling a bit as he grabbed his jacket and headband, and saw as he was putting on his shoes how much his hands were trembling. He wasn’t scared or nervous; rather, it was that sensation that would not leave, and it was bothering him — and he really needed to go find whoever was in danger.

Using the golden vision could help most likely, and maybe Monkey King knew what was going on? Given how strong this feeling was, it was probably another power of his, and it would be something MK would have to get used to more often. Great.

The thought of Monkey King, however, suddenly brought a flash of blue and gold into his mind. His breath hitched at the realization, and all the weight from his chest dropped to his stomach in an instant as he snapped his head to the window.

“Monkey King,” he breathed out, and before he could comprehend it, he was jumping out the window, staff in hand.

How could Monkey King be in danger? He could clearly handle himself just fine. Maybe this was all in his head, yeah. Probably… but of course he was still going to check because… because the feeling was only growing stronger, and the sharp sensation was fully enveloping him, and, and — he suppressed a frustrated groan. Focus, MK! Now wasn't the time! He had to get to Flower Fruit Mountain!

Before his body would reach the ground, he swiftly landed the end of the staff first with a resounding thud on the street and extended it forward to launch himself higher into the air. It would be quicker this way.

Though, luckily and surprisingly for him, he supposed, was that not even a second after, he caught an object in his view coming straight towards him, moving in a bit too fast for his liking, actually.

“Kid!” it shouted, tone tight and on edge, and a wave of dizzying fear penetrated his chest and left all at the same time, making his throat tighten.

“Monkey King?” MK choked to get out. He was okay! Maybe? Was he being chased probably? That sudden, intense beat of emotion took him longer to comprehend everything properly; it left his whole body fuzzy and dull, but also static with anxious induced adrenaline, his nerves feeling singed at the edge of his mind.

Which totally made him forget he wasn't on the ground and, rather, still in the air. The momentum he gained before was now dissipating and gravity was starting to catch up to him again, slowly dragging him down.

Oh.

He made a yelp jump out of his mouth when he hit something sooner than he thought, but as soon realized he wasn't in immediate pain and was being picked back up into the air in a swooping motion.

His mind processed that his head was against someone's chest, as he heard rapid, muffled thumping of a heart in his ear. Also he heard talking — and oh my gosh, Monkey King!

He squirmed around in his mentor's grasp, trying to get a better look at his surroundings in case someone was chasing him or something.

"Woah, hey," Monkey King started, and there was a slight tremble to his voice, but that could be from coming all the way over to the city. "Don't worry, it's just me."

They floated back down to the ground, where MK found they were on the cloud beforehand, and took a few steps back once he was sure he was not in the air anymore (that was a rollercoaster in it of itself) to assess everything, including Monkey King who seemed fine and gave him one of his side smiles. They were the only two present at the moment; he didn’t hear or see anyone else coming, neither was his senses buzzing out anymore. He slowly exhaled. This was all so intense for no reason.

“You all right, Kid? Why were you so high in the sky this early in the morning?” Monkey King chuckled, in a short, weird way, and, if MK was seeing right, he looked relieved himself.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorta confused, but good,” MK nodded, twisting the staff in his hands. “And, well, I guess — are you okay? I thought something bad happened.”

Monkey King raised his eyebrows, his tail slowly swaying to and fro, and then swiftly changed into a more neutral, chill-like expression. He had been doing that a lot lately. “Of course I’m fine!” He then gazed around the area, eyes focused and distant at the same time. “Why? Did something happen?”

His voice had that certain edge again, but MK tried not to think too much on it right now, and instead relaxed his stature more and shook his head. “No? I mean I hope not. I woke up in this panic and it was not leaving no matter what I did which made me think it was something serious and that someone was in trouble, and then I had a feeling that it could be you? And now you're here, so I guess it was nothing? I’m not sure.”

Silence… and then, “unless something is wron—”

“Okay, kiddo,” Monkey King put his hand on MK’s head, “before you start freaking out again: I’m fine, and I’m pretty sure everything else is fine. It was probably a dream you had if anything.”

MK thought for a moment. It probably was, but, like before, he couldn’t remember any of it even if he tried. It was weird. He sighed, “I guess. So… why are you here, then?”

Monkey King stiffened, MK could tell from his hand still on his head and the way his fingers twitched in his hair, but it was so subtle and quick, no one would catch it. But, and for some reason, MK kept catching those small moments more and more, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that, or what to think of it.

His mentor put his hand back down and stretched. “Eh, ‘just wanted to smell the morning air, I don’t do it often. So, I thought I’d fly around the city for a while, and then, to my suprise, there you were nearly falling, so,” his shoulders shook from his small laughter again. “But, I suppose I should head back now since everything seems to have settled down, and you should try and get some more rest before you actually have to get up, okay?”

“Right,” MK said, and he wanted to say more, that look in Monkey King’s eyes made him want to, but… maybe now wasn't the right time. And maybe he was over exaggerating things. Monkey King was fine, and even if he was hiding anything, MK shouldn’t press on it if he wasn’t supposed to know. He had learned that by now…

“All right, Kid, lets go,” Monkey King smiled gently, and, before MK could question anything, he grabbed a hold of him and lifted them both back up on the cloud over to his balcony.

“Thanks,” MK smiled back while he safely landed his feet on said balcony. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Or, wait, today? What time is it?”

“Way too early to be up,” Monkey King reminded with a smirk, “so go to sleep or else you’ll be sweeping the whole mountain.”

“Wait, really?” Because no. No, thank you. Was that even possible, and who would even sweep a whole mountain?

Monkey King shrugged with a “I don’t know” noise. “I guess we’ll have to see later today," and, with a short wave and a wink, said, "see ya, bud!" and went zooming away.

MK watched him go once again, leaning his arms against the railing. The sun was just beginning to show up, the dark blue sky becoming a lighter shade of gray with warm tones peeking out between the buildings. As his mind went over everything, he closed his eyes and sighed, letting the light breeze brush over the tips of his hair.

He probably wasn't going back to bed.

~~~

Wukong road on his cloud on the way back to the mountain, hoping the wind would take his thoughts with it.

The kid… was he sharing…?

No. Maybe.

He roughly huffed. He had to keep his emotions in check, or else he was going to end up hurting the both of them.

~~~

Notes: This one was a bit shorter, but I wanted to write about it because the idea was pretty interesting to me, and it’d be cool if they explored more on how they’re sharing the same power, so... (and the part where I made Wukong catch MK was what inspired me to write it all in general because I thought it looked nice in my head and it was my first thought for the idea LOL)

BUT YES, I hope you enjoyed! And if any of you want to write out or do anything about this idea, go right ahead; I would love to see it!!

I might make this a series of little one-shots or even longer stories if I get more ideas for it, but, anywho, thank you so much for reading!! Much Love, and many Blessings! 😊

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #monkie kid fanfiction #monkie kid fanfic #MK #qi xiaotian #monkey king #sun wukong #LMK #fanfiction #fanfic

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 1. Back Into The Field

Intro: Picking up a few months on from the events of Stark Spangled Man, Katie finds herself on desk bound duty following a disciplinary for ignoring Fury’s orders. But when she’s finally released, and disaster strikes on the first mission she’s run in months, she kinda wishes she’d stayed there.

Warnings: Bad language, mentions of blood, injury, angst and a minor character death.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Katie Stark

A/N: So here we go. A relaunch of SSB thanks to my other blog being flagged. For those of you who are new, welcome! I hope you enjoy. And to all you current Stark Spangled Readers, welcome back, You might spot a few subtle differences as we go through, as things I’m not happy with have been rewritten but don’t worry, nothing will impact the mine lines in the hot mess that is Stark and Rogers.

As always, please leave your comments or send me messages, asks, anything. I love you all!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

March 2013.

Any doctor would cry if they visited SHIELD; the caffeine and alcohol intake of pretty much every worker there would way exceed a dose construed to be healthy. Mind you, if you asked any agent whether they’d give up coffee or alcohol, they’d say alcohol in a heartbeat.

Well, most of them.

Katie couldn’t imagine surviving without an ice cold beer on a hot summer’s day, but she also didn’t function until she had her morning cup of Joe. It was a tough choice to make.

Not today though, she needed coffee. And lots of it. After ‘going rogue’ to chase the Mandarin with her brother, month’s later Fury was still pissed and as such was basically giving her the most boring thing he could think of- working through piles of mission reports to analyse and cross reference with others to pick up on common threads .To be honest, she didn’t mind it too much. After the excitement of the festive period she had welcomed a relatively quiet return to work, and didn’t particularly give a shit what Fury thought about her either.

She circling a part of the hard copy of the report she was working on with highlighter pen, before glancing back at her computer screen to cut and paste it into the Scrapbook App she used to trace trends with, letting out a groan. Who was she kidding? Desk duty sucked ass.

*****

Steve’s morning wasn’t going much better.

Whilst he wasn’t desk bound, after a particularly gruelling Ops Training session during which one of the newest kids suffered a broken nose after colliding painfully with a stray shock baton, he was almost wishing he was. Following a quick debrief, he checked his schedule on his phone and found he was free now for the rest of the day so he showered and headed up to find Katie. He found her in her office, paper in her hand as she stared at her computer screen, eyes narrowed. Steve watched her for a moment, taking in the way her nose crinkled as she read something, her bottom lip being dragged under her top teeth as she continued her work, completely unaware he was there. With a groan she dropped the notes she’d been holding to the desk and ran her hand through her dark hair.

Steve felt he was interrupting something, even though he knew he wasn’t, but he also didn’t want to appear like he’d been watching her either, which he totally had. So he gave a little cough and, as she turned round, her pretty face cracking into a smile which he returned.

“Hey! How was training?”

“Don’t ask.” He let out a snort.

“That bad huh?”

“In a fashion.” He nodded, leaning on the door frame. “You had lunch?”

“Nope.”

“Wanna come get some?”

She nodded instantly “God yes. Can we get FroYo after?”

“Yeah but don’t let me pile it with all that crap this time!” he shot her his best playfully disapproving look as he remembered his first trip the Frozen Yoghurt stall. He had loaded his with all sorts of different things and the result had been beyond foul.

Katie gave a laugh and picked up her jacket, shrugging it on. Standing up straight, he moved to allow her to step through the door and followed her to the elevator.

“Stick to chocolate chip, mint and cookie dough.” She said, stepping into it. “Trust me.”

They strode across the foyer and into the early spring sun. Katie pulled her jacket tighter around herself as they crossed the street, shivering a little in the cool breeze.

“How are you just wearing a shirt?” she looked at Steve as he fell into step besides her, making sure he was on the side nearest the road. He noticed that she’d long since given up chiding him on this old fashioned habit after he had revealed it was something he used to do for his mom too, and Bucky’s younger sister. In fact, today, he swore he saw something that looked like a soft smile flicker on her lips when he positioned himself on her left, but as quick as he noticed it, it was gone.

“It’s not too bad.” He grinned. “I’ve been through worse.” He opened the door to the Deli for her and followed her in as they took their place in the queue. After a moment or two he became aware that she was looking at him.

“What?” he asked, turning to her exasperatedly. Katie couldn’t help but grin, she enjoyed winding the usually mild mannered man up

“I’m trying to imagine how you would look with a beard. And with shorter hair.” she mused, causing the Captain to roll his eyes.

“Not gonna happen.”

“What the hair cut or the beard?”

“Neither.”

“Spoil sport.”

“Captain America doesn’t have a beard.” he shook his head.

“No but, Steve Rogers could…”

She was impossible, but Steve couldn’t help but want to laugh. This playfulness was the thing that he enjoyed the most, how she could just treat him like any other punk she knew.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re exhausting?” he rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his face as she stepped forward in the queue.

“Yeah, you.” she spun round to face him, grinning “Several times. But you still come back for more.”

“Well I have the distinct impression if I didn’t you’d hunt me down anyway”

They ordered and ate their lunch, Steve filling her in on the ops drill and after Fro-Yo they made arrangements to slob out that evening at his with a film. They walked back to the Triskellion where Katie headed back to her office to continue sifting through the Mount Everest of reports she had to do. As with anything, once she got the bit between her teeth, she completely zoned out. It was only when she heard a gabble of voices all bidding each other goodbye that she looked up from her work. It was dark outside, and past six.

“Shit.” she groaned as the realisation washed over her. She was supposed to be at Steve’s for half past. She clicked to save her work whilst calling him at the same time, phone sandwiched between her cheek and shoulder.

“So…I’m running late.” She apologised the instant he answered. He chuckled.

“I thought that you said the one good thing about being confined to desk duties was that you set the hours.”

“Yeah, well I got caught up in something, but I’m leaving now. Do you want me to grab pizza on the way?”

“Sounds good, not Chicago Style though. I’m hankering for a proper piece of pie.”

“God you’re such a New Yorker.” She rolled her eyes.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” His voice took on a mock hurt tone and she could imagine him pouting on the other end of the phone.

“Hmmm, I’m undecided. Right, I’m leaving now. See you soon.”

“Drive safe.”

“What are you my dad?” she snorted at his stern instruction.

“Old enough to be.” he shot back.

“Touche.” she sniggered, cutting the call

*******

“Boring New York style for Mr S Rogers…” she spoke into the intercom at the main door to Steve’s apartment complex and he buzzed her in. By the time she’d climbed the stairs to his floor he was waiting, leaning on the door frame.

“Bout time.” He muttered, taking the boxes off her “Was about to send a search party.”

“Mario’s was packed.” Katie said, kicking off her sneakers and heading straight through to his kitchen to grab a beer out of his fridge without waiting for him to offer, knowing he wouldn’t. He didn’t need to.

Steve headed into the living room, depositing the thee boxes on the coffee table before he sank onto the couch and reached straight in for one of the pepperoni slices. A few moments later Katie flopped down next to him, handing him a beer.

“What we ticking off the list tonight?” she asked.

“A Few Good Men.” he said, nodding at the TV where he had queued the movie up ready.

“Wait, did you manage to navigate that Android box all by yourself?” She looked at him and he sighed.

“I’m not completely useless ya know.”

“Jury’s out.” she teased, curling her legs up onto the sofa next to her.

They watched the movie. Steve got most of the references within it. He chuckled in the right places, and laughed out loud when Katie was unable to stop herself uttering the immortal line You can’t handle the truth. When the credits began to roll, Katie unfolded herself from where she had been sat and they launched into Steve’s favourite part of Movie Nights- the post film analysis.

“Who was the guy who played the colonel, Jessup?” he looked at her.

“Jack Nicholson. Amazing actor. He’s in a few on your list.”

“He was good. And I know he was supposed to be the good guy so to speak but Kaffee annoyed me a little. He was so arrogant.”

“He reminds me of Tony” Katie sniggered.

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything” Steve gave a little smirk and Katie shrugged.

“I get what you mean though. He is an ass, and it pisses me off a little the romance angle they take with him and Galloway. I mean, she’s portrayed as this strong woman, in the male dominated military woman and they still have to go there.”

“It does seem to be a tried and tested format.” Steve nodded, leaning back against the cushions on his couch “Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy wins girl over…even the movies I saw back in before I took a sub-zero nap were the same.”

“I suppose it appeals to the hopeless romantic in all of us.” Katie shrugged.

They continued to chat for a bit longer until Katie glanced at her watch, and seeing the time, decided to call it a night. Steve walked her down to her car, he always did without fail, another thing she had given up chiding him for and when he came back upstairs and got in the shower, he found himself straying back to the first time he had seen her, the minute she had stepped into the light in the boxing gym and he’d found himself looking into the greenest eyes he had ever seen in his life.

The more he stood there in the stream of hot water, thinking about her, the more he started to feel something…well…different. And he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it that he found her attractive? Well of course he did. To be honest, he reckoned you’d have to be blind not to. And if he was totally honest, since he’d seen her the first time in that little boxing gym in New York he had noticed how pretty she was. She had the figure of the stars of his time. Hour glass waist, brunette hair, shapely ass and legs and quite large breasts considering she was so slim. But what did it for him were her eyes. Deep, sparkling emeralds that he could lose himself in quite happily. And that smile, that fucking smile that could make him stop in his tracks when she flashed it.

But it was more than just that, she was…well…just Katie.

It was strange, really, she reminded him so much of Peggy in some ways, but in others she was so different. Both were vivacious, smart, strong willed and beautiful. But where Peggy had been harsh, after a military upbringing, Katie had a softer edge to her. She was still ferocious at times, but she was a people person, and somehow knew exactly how to explain and understand what he was trying to say even when he struggled to himself. She made him feel at ease. With that in mind it wasn’t surprising they had grown so close. He could trust her and knew that she would do anything for him because she was a good person. And she made it so easy to be around, he didn’t feel a shred of awkwardness around her.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever find himself a friend he could be as honest and open with again, one he would happily lay his life on the line for, not just out of a sense of duty but out of a sense of love and friendship.

Who you trying to kid, Rogers?

He knew his feelings went deeper than that. All those times he’d felt irritation at other men looking at her or touching her, all those times he’d looked at her and just wanted to smile because she was just her… the fear he had felt when he had known she was off chasing the Mandarin and he wasn’t able to help…none of that was anything to do with mere friendship.

He leaned his forehead against the tiles of the shower cubicle and groaned. He was crushing on his best friend.

He was so fucked. *******

Katie’s desk arrest didn’t last much longer. Two weeks later she was catapulted back into the field, on what was supposed to be a simple op, simple by SHIELD standards, anyway. They had a request from the Cuban government – all very hush, hush, of course –to take down a drug lord who ran a cartel SHIELD had tangled with last year.

Katie, in her role as Mission Analyst, read the files and all the intel, pulled together a briefing and delivered it, answering questions that came her way from the team and then handed over to Steve when it was his turn to take the floor. He started issuing out his orders, and informed everyone that the three newest recruits would be joining them as it would be a fairly straight forward op to ease them into.

And it had been, for the most part, until one of those new recruits, Jack Adams, had frozen mid fire fight and as a consequence he’d taken three bullets to the chest. Which shouldn’t have been an issue given the armour they all wore. But when the man failed to get up, Katie knew there was something very, very wrong.

“Adams is down!” she loudly spoke into her radio as she took aim at the hostile responsible. As soon as she was sure the round she had let off had hit her target, she broke cover to get to Adams, as she was closest to him. She skidded to the floor, pressing her hand to his chest and her other reached to his face, turning it to look at her.

“I got you, Adams, look at me.” she urged gently, her hand warm, wet and slick with the young man’s blood. Steve dropped besides her and she turned to face him.

“Armour piercing rounds.” She shook her head. “Steve, I can’t stop the bleeding.” Her tone left the Captain in no doubt as to how worried she was and he looked around frantically for help.

“Medic, NOW! We need emergency evac…”

“Stay with us, Jack.” Katie reached into her belt and retrieved a tab of morphine as he young man’s hand gripped her other whilst she administered the pain relief.

“Son, you’re gonna be fine.” Steve spoke and Adams’ horrified eyes turned to Steve. The soldier swallowed, fighting to keep his face calm. He’d seen that expression so many times on the battle field, the one that told him the man who lay injured knew he was injured beyond repair, that there was nothing to be done for him. But this was now seventy years into the future, medical science had worked so many wonders since then, they had to be able to do something, right?

“RUMLOW WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT MEDIC?” Katie screamed, her tone frantic.

“Still got hostiles on us!” Rumlow replied over the coms. “Evans has taken four down but they’re approaching from the right! We need to cover the medics in and now you’re down there…”

Steve instantly looked round before he looked back at Katie “We’ll have to take him ourselves”

She bit her lip, looking at the young man, then up to Steve again. Everything in their training told them not to move casualties, but Steve knew if they stayed here he was going to bleed out. Katie seemed to come to the same conclusion and she nodded.

“Alright. Brock, we’re coming to you. Have the medics prep the bay on the jet.. Evans, we need top cover.”

“Roger, Cap…”

“Jack, we’re gonna move you now.” Katie looked at him, her voice calm and level as besides her, Steve moved to take the injured man into a lift over his shoulder. Once he had him positioned, he gave a small jerk of his head and Katie picked up his shield in one hand, and her pistol in the other as they broke cover, sprinting across the front of the industrial yard towards the jet. In the corner of his eye, Steve spotted two hostiles moving but before he could shout a warning, Katie had fired off two shots, the thumps and lack of returning fire meaning each bullet had hit its target. Soon they were joined by Rumlow and Rollins who flanked them up the ramp where Katie dropped Steve’s shield to the floor with a clang and offered her hand back to Adams as Steve placed him gently on the stretcher.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Katie soothed him as the medics bustled around, her eyes glancing up every so often to watch what they were doing.

“Can you tell my mom I love her and, and my dad.” Adams was mumbling now and Katie shook her head.

“You can tell them yourself.” She told him fiercely. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“We’re locked down outside, local authorities are handling it now.” Rumlow informed Steve who had stepped back from where Katie was knelt by the injured man. “How is he?”

Steve turned to Rumlow, shaking his head sadly. “Not good. He lost a lot of blood.”

At that point Katie suddenly drew back slightly, looking at the hand held in hers, before she glanced at the medic who was sadly shaking his head. Katie’s shoulders slumped as her eyes closed, face screwing up into a pained expression and Steve pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger as he realised that the young man had lost his final fight.

“Shit.” Rumlow muttered.

“Radio base” Steve turned to Rumlow his voice soft “Let’s get him home.”

*******

Writing mission reports wasn’t Katie’s favourite thing to do, but this one was awful. So she’d treated it like ripping off a band aid, and after a horrific night’s sleep, she’d been at the Triskelion early to get it done. As a result it was little after ten am, she was done for the day and was about to head home until she heard a familiar voice.

“Eat me…eat me…” The voice was accompanied by a bag from her favourite bakery, which was hovering in the space between the door to the office and the frame, before Clint Barton’s head poked round the side, a grin plastered on his face.

“Hey!” She beamed at her friend as he dropped a cup holder containing two coffees and the bag onto her desk before taking a seat, scooting the wheeled chair over the floor towards her.

“Heard you had a rough time of it yesterday so I brought donuts and almond croissants. And coffee.”

“Hawkeye, you are a godsend.” Katie smiled, taking a large drink and leaning back, closing her eyes.

“That the first time you’ve lost a man on a mission?” Clint asked.

“Other than Coulson.” she shrugged. “Shit, Adams was twenty-three Clint. He had his whole life ahead of him.”

Clint watched as she rubbed at her temple before reaching into the bag and pulling out an almond croissant. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, it must have at least been before the mission.

“How’s Cap taken it?”

“On the outside he seems okay, but I know he blames himself. Keeps saying he shouldn’t have taken him.” Katie shrugged “He’s gone with Fury to see Adams’ parents. Rather him than me.”

“This job is hard.” Clint said after a moment or two pause. “We fight to keep everyone safe, but y’know, sometimes not everyone makes it. Thing is, if we can’t find a way to deal with that, then maybe next time no one gets saved at all.”

“You mean like Collateral damage?” she snorted, shaking her head.

“No, I mean that everyone one of us that are out in the field know the risks Nova, hell last year 7 of us took on a horde of Aliens in New York. For hours we fought them, and did any of us give a second thought to our own safety? No, because that’s what we do.”

His words made sense. She knew they did, but that didn’t stop the feeling in her stomach that if she had done her research more, maybe she could have spotted something that would have told them about the armour piercing rounds.

*******

Adams’ parents already knew he was dead. Fury had the local authorities call ahead, common practice now, but still, Steve found himself sat on their couch, talking, informing them all about their son’s last moments. They hadn’t shouted, hadn’t screamed or blamed him. Instead, they’d thanked him for what he had done and for bringing him back so they could hold a proper burial.

By the time he got back to base, he was exhausted.

“Here.” Fury handed him a glass of scotch from the bottle he had pulled out of his desk. Steve took it, dropping onto one of the sofas at the side of the large office, Fury settling into the other. Steve knew the drink couldn’t get him drunk, but he liked the momentary buzz he got that lasted all of sixty seconds post sip, and the comforting burn it gave when he swallowed.

The pair of them sat in silence for a few moments before Fury sat forward, his eye fixed on Steve.

“Ever done that before, a death message?” he asked.

“Can’t say I have. Wasn’t really my job back in the day.” Steve shrugged, undoing his tie and popping the top button of his dress shirt.

“Worst part of the job. Doesn’t matter how many times you do it, never gets any easier.” Fury ran his hand over his face, and it struck Steve how tired his boss actually looked.

“Yeah, it isn’t exactly up there with my favourite thing to do.” Steve rolled his tie up and shoved it into the pocket of his old Army uniform pants.

“How’s Nova?” Fury asked.

“She’s upset.” Steve sighed “But she’s strong, she’ll be okay. I’m gonna head over and see how she is later.”

“You two spend a lot of time together outside of work.” Fury commented, innocently enough but there was something in his tone, something that was almost good natured accusation.

“Not a problem is it, Sir?” Steve asked, keeping his face straight.

“No, not at all.” Fury said “Why do you think I partnered you up in the first place? She’s a people person…”

“She’s a good friend.” Steve nodded “We get on.”

“Glad to hear it.” Fury nodded. There was another moment’s pause before he spoke again. “There’s going to be a debrief with the Secretary of Defense tomorrow.”

Steve sighed “If they’re looking to blame someone, the buck stops with me. I should never have taken the kid.”

“Bullshit.” Fury said simply “I’ve read the reports. From what they say, he just froze.”

“He wasn’t experienced enough.”

“Taking risks is part of this job. It’s a dangerous gig.” Fury held his gaze. “It was a straight forward in and out job Captain. What happened was an accident. A tragic one, but an accident none the less. From the reports, neither you nor Stark could have done any more to save his life.”

Steve shrugged, the words were kind but didn’t help him feel any better.

Three glasses of scotch later, Steve shook the director’s hand and left the office, pulling out his phone. He didn’t want to appear like he was checking up on Katie, so he pinged her a text, dressing it up like it was him who needed to see her, which wasn’t a complete lie. He did. He was craving the normality she gave him.

Can I come over? I could do with seeing a friendly face

He read it a few times, before deciding it was casual enough before he sent it. The reply was almost instantaneous.

My door is always open for you. And I made Mac and Cheese. Plenty left.

He couldn’t help but smile. One of the best things about this new life was the food, and her Mac and Cheese was frankly his favourite thing to eat on the planet.

He changed into a pair of sweats and a hoody, hastily making his way to Katie’s penthouse and the smile she gave him when he walked into her place instantly made him feel at ease.

“Hey.” she crossed the space towards him and gave him a hug which he happily melted into, a hug they both needed.

“How did it go?” she asked, pulling away.

“As well as can be expected.” He sighed as he followed her into the kitchen, dropping into the stool on the other side of the breakfast bar. “His mom broke down but they didn’t shout or yell.”

Katie flipped the lid off a beer and handed it to him. He took it, with a nod of thanks and pulled a large swig before he rest his hands on the counter, staring at the bottle.

He was brooding and blaming himself, Katie could tell, so she gently lay her hand on his, reaching over the counter.

“It wasn’t your fault Steve.” she spoke softly and he looked at her.

God, she did that all the time, knew what he was thinking. It gave him the unnerving impression that sometimes she could read his mind.

“I should have spotted that shooter.” he shook his head.

“I’m the fucking mission analyst.” she sighed. “I knew from last time those guys were packing, if I’d done more research, maybe I would have found out about the armour piercing rounds.”

“You can’t seriously blame yourself?” Steve’s frowned.

“Why not?” she shrugged sadly. She’d been over it a million times in her head that day and had come to the same conclusion every time. She should have spotted something, dug further. “I didn’t do my job.”

“Yes, you did.” he implored, his eyes locking onto hers “Your report clearly set out the layout, the learning from previous missions…Adams was just too inexperienced, I should never have taken him.”

There was a pause as the microwave pinged and Katie turned to look at it.

“You know, Clint made a good point before.” she reached in for the plate and the smell of the food made his stomach grumble again as she continued “This job, it’s hard. We fight to keep people safe but not everyone makes it back all the time…and if we can’t learn to live with that then maybe next time no one gets saved.”

“It feels like trading lives.” He took a deep breath as she placed the plate down in front of him “It’s just wrong.”

“I know.” She said, handing him some cutlery and sat down next to him.

“You eaten?” he asked, looking at her, suddenly aware she didn’t have a plate. She nodded.

“Couldn’t have waited until now, I’d have starved to death.” she said, shrugging.

“Hardly.” he replied, mouth full, instantly realising he had said the wrong thing as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Is that a fat joke?” she asked, making him roll his eyes as he swallowed. That hadn’t been it at all, he was referring to the fact that she never actually stopped eating, despite her tiny frame she gave him a run for his money.

“No, that’s not what I meant. You’re tiny.” he said, almost choking on his food through his protests.

“So now you’re making short jokes?” She shot back. Steve looked at her, dismayed she thought he was being mean to her but then he spotted the look in her eyes and rolled his own.

“Punk.”

“Jerk” she shot back.

It was the perfect way to escape the trauma and stress of the last few days. Once they had finished eating the two of them flopped down on her large L shape sofa, Steve’s legs extended along one side of the L shape, her legs tucked underneath her as she leaned against his shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice the smell of her shampoo…apple, he thought, along with her perfume. Her proximity was making his head buzz but he wasn’t about to move her, the contact was comforting. And it clearly was for her too as about an hour or so into the film- the first in the Lord of The Rings trilogy- he felt her head growing heavy. He glanced down and saw that her eyes were closed and, as he watched, her head slipped slightly. He shifted so that he could catch her gently, and grabbed a cushion from behind him, placing it against his leg. He manoeuvred her head so that she was lay down, gently brushing her hair off her face. She stirred slightly, snuggling down further into the cushion as he absentmindedly rubbed between her shoulder blades as her breathing grew gentle and even.

Steve stayed like that, engrossed in the film right to the end, surprisingly. He had enjoyed it. Katie hadn’t woken up, and he looked down debating whether or not to wake her or simply carry her through to her bedroom. In the end he decided to do neither, instead he reached for the remote as he sifted through to find something else to watch. He didn’t want to leave just yet, he was too comfy and too at ease. Picking one of his favourites, Casablanca, he settled down, getting himself comfy as he immersed himself in the familiar world of Rick’s Café Americain. At one point he felt his eyes growing heavy and he lay his head back, deciding to rest them for just a little while…

**** Katie was jolted awake, quite violently, and as she jerked into an upright position she saw exactly why. Steve was thrashing in his sleep, his face contorted in horror, small murmurs and whimpers slipping from his plump lips. She placed both her hands on his shoulder and shook him. Softly at first, then a bit stronger, trying to rouse him.

“Steve…” she gave him a harsher shake and his eyes flew open, wide in panic and she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “Hey, it’s okay. It was just a dream.”

Her soft voice filled Steve’s senses and, as he realised where he was and whose eyes were looking at him, he took a shaky breath and lay his head back.

Damned it, he’d fallen asleep and had a nightmare. On her sofa.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice croaky, “I err…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine.” Katie shook her head gently “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Whilst she was gone he leaned forward, swinging his legs off the couch so his feet touched the floor, wiping his clammy head with his hands, the memory still flashing through his dream.

Cold air was blasting his hair back…there was a hole in the side of the train…then a flash of light and Bucky flew straight through the hole. “BUCKY…” he yelled, grabbing onto the side of the train, the bar in one hand as he stretched to reach his friend with the other.

“Steve…” The voice was louder, but not loud enough. No, he had to get to Bucky…

But he was gone, Steve was grasping at nothing but air.

Just a dream, Katie had said. It was anything but…

She appeared back in the room with a glass of water and he thanked her as she passed it to him. He took a large gulp, swallowing and was relieved when his breathing began returning to normal.

“You ok?” she asked, kindly as her hand gently knotted into his, her concern evident.

“Yeah, just a nightmare.” he nodded softly “I’ve not had one for a while.”

“Understandable with what’s happened. Wanna tell me what it was about?”

“It was Bucky.” he swallowed thickly “I was replaying the moment he fell. The moment he plummeted to his death from that Hydra train and I didn’t save him.”

Katie stayed silent for a moment before her hand curled round Steve’s shoulder and she pulled him to her, causing him to lay his head on her shoulder. “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have done more” The guilt ate Steve up every day, that he had survived. Why had he deserved that any more than Bucky?

“How?” she said again. “How could you have done anymore?”

"I should have gone after him.” he said quietly.

“What would’ve changed if you had?” Katie asked. “There’s no way he could have survived that fall.”

“He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.“ He replied, "I should have gone after him, brought him home, done something.”

Katie remained quiet, her hand gently running through his hair which was nice, far too nice. He took a deep breath and sat up moving away from her touch.

"What time is it?”

“Nearly six in the morning” Katie glanced at her watch.

“You’re kidding?” Steve snorted.

“Nope. You want some coffee?” she stood up, stretching her arms above her head.

“Yeah if that’s ok.” he replied, following her to the kitchen. From her body language he could tell she was rolling her eyes, even if she wasn’t facing him.

“I don’t know if your Ma ever told you, but it’s rude to run out on a girl after you spend the night with her.”

“And as you know, I’m useless with women.” he sat down at the barstool on the breakfast bar. He watched her, but he didn’t say anything as she bustled about, throwing some bread in the toaster and then went to the fridge for the butter, marmalade and jam, sliding them onto the island. At that point Steve held his hands up.

“You don’t have to-” he started to say, but she silenced him with a glare, similar to the ones Peggy used to give him, the look that could stop him in his tracks it was that stern.

“Shut up.” she poured them both a cup of the coffee before adding milk and a spoon of sugar to each, passing one to him. The bread popped up from the toaster, and she put it on a plate before sliding it over to him and adding more bread to the machine.

His stomach rumbled and he gave in, smearing butter over his toast. He eyed the jam curiously. He’d had marmalade before but…

He looked at Katie and she nodded. “It’s good.”

So he added some, and after a bite he concluded she was right, and nodded in agreement. Once the next round of toast was done she sat next to him.

“So, when did I fall asleep.” she asked, swallowing her food.

“About an hour into the film.”

She shook her head “What an ass…”

“It wasn’t a problem.” He replied honestly as he took a bite of his breakfast. “To be honest I enjoyed it.”

“What, me drooling on your leg?”

He swallowed, his eyes wide “I meant the film.”

“I know.” she smirked.

***** Chapter 2

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #relaunch #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #katie stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character

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last-operator-standing · 3 years

Text

Toll Of The Bell

Chapter 3 - Sonder

> Read on Ao3

> Chapter 1 (tumblr)

> Chapter 2 (tumblr)

> Chapter 4 (tumblr)

Summary: What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn’t be that bad either. Or…

Or he could finish the mission.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Warning apply this chapter

Words: 1.8k (7.3k total)

A/N: I'm sorry this one took so long asjdfjf I'm awful at keeping any sort of regular schedule- but i'm going to be trying much harder to keep the chapters flowing :') I'd love to hear any thoughts, and thank you all for the support <3 (p.s. Adler will be here v soon- Promise uwu)

"Please stop staring at me."

Bell has no intention of doing so. He's been staring down Lazar from the moment the man stumbled into the kitchen to join him at the table. The sunlight is harsh despite the closed curtains and the coffee fails to stimulate either agent's mind. This certainly isn't Lazar's ideal morning. The silence stretches on, but the uncomfortable feeling of Bell's eyes on him has him sighing loudly.

"Damn, Bell, alright." Lazar gives in. The chair scrapes loudly against the tile floor as he pushes back to stand, disappearing for a moment and returning with a bag. It piques Bell's curiosity; he was too tired to notice it last night.

A folder slaps loudly against the table and slides a few centimeters towards Bell. The Russian, unable to contain himself, surges forward to snatch it. "You're right about your buddy. Definitely a smuggler of sorts."

Bell flips the folder open and begins rooting through the contents. A picture of Kapano Vang is clipped on the inside. The first page has basic information. Name, call sign, date and place of birth. Bell's more interested in the finer details: A few suspected routes, potential cartel members, a list of what they believe is being smuggled. There's a few recurring words that catch his eye. Golden Triangle Cartel is scribbled at the bottom and underlined twice. Beside it, drawn in bold red ink and circled multiple times, Bell reads PERSEUS?

"What did you see yesterday, in those memories of yours?"

Bell gives a small shake of his head. "It was a bar, I think. He was there." He taps the portrait with a finger. "And someone else who knew us but.. I couldn't remember his face," The Russian gives a disappointed click of his tongue. "Or his name."

Lazar tries to offer a reassuring smile. "Hey, don't sweat it. It'll come back to you."

Bell wishes he could share in Lazar's positivity. He really does. But he can't be sure what brought the memories to him in the first place, or why they were so fragmented. After spending much of the night agonizing over any additional detail he might remember about Perseus or Kapano Vang or anyone else he had seen at that bar and coming up short, Bell's hope started to slip. In the end he could only point fingers at Adler and his MK-Ultra project. "So what's next?"

Lazar doesn't answer right away. He looks thoughtful. Even with their revelation on Kapano Vang and his cartel, they are nowhere closer to finding Perseus than they were before. They are back to square one.

"Well, I could try cross-referencing with MI6 again-" he means Park, Bell thinks with a snort "-and see if they have anything new."

Lazar's looking at him intently and Bell realizes he's waiting for a response. "Oh, uh. Yeah." Bell shifts awkwardly in his seat. "Whatever you say."

A week later, the two man team have no progress to show for their efforts. In that time, Bell's gone over the files at least a dozen and a half times and nothing's changed, nor have any new memories resurfaced. Lazar's cross-referencing has yet to unearth anything new either, telling Bell MI6 is just in the dark as they are.

"This isn't working, Laz." Bell slams the paper back against the kitchen table. His irritation is reflected in the other man's face but Lazar does a better job at hiding it. "We just have to keep looking," Lazar sighs. "We have the answer here somewhere."

Bell clicks his tongue in disapproval. "I've been over these files again and again. There's nothing here. We're not going to find Perseus on some piece of paper-" An idea strikes Bell. Something he never considered before now.

"Bell?" Lazar frowns. "You alright?"

"What if we look for that bar?" Excitement shines in Bell's eyes. Lazar's startled by his suggestion.

"I don't know-"

"C'mon, Laz, think about it. There was more than one Perseus agent there, in my memory." A plan was beginning to hatch in Bell's mind. From the way he's looking at him, Lazar doesn't like where he's going with it. "If we find that bar, maybe we can find one of those agents. Maybe even match some of these faces." He looks down at the file of unconfirmed but suspected Perseus soldiers.

"I don't know about this," Lazar repeats slowly, uncertainly. "If someone recognizes us it could cause some trouble. Especially if they recognize you. You helped stop Perseus the first time. No doubt his people are painfully aware of that."

Bell doesn't want to hear it, though. "It's just a risk we'll have to take," he argues. "I'm a spy, Laz. I know how to keep my head down."

After a bit of back and forth it's settled. First, they'll compile a list of bars in areas known or suspected to be frequented by Perseus. Then, while in constant contact, as Lazar insists, Bell will make his way through each alone and hope nobody recognizes him while he searches for the bar from his memory.

It takes two days to assemble a full list and another day and a half to narrow it down and map a route.

"I'm still not happy about this," Lazar grunts as he drops a duffel bag onto the table. Bell eagerly snatches it and begins shuffling inside. "You worry too much, old man."

The first thing Bell pulls from the bag is a change of clothes. They both agreed he needs something casual. And clean. It would make blending in with the crowd much easier. Too excited about the upcoming mission has Bell stripping where he stands. No time for modesty.

"C'mon, Bell, in the kitchen?" Lazar turns with a light pink tinting his face. Bell grins wide but doesn’t reply. The new outfit fits comfortably. He returns to the bag and roots around for his next prize. There’s a knife with a sheath and a small handgun waiting at the bottom. The knife is removed first. Bell carefully slides it free of its sheath. The blade is unusually slim and dark in color, and sports a dangerously sharp tip with partial serration of both sides near the hilt. Bell’s entirely absorbed in admiring the blade, so much so that he misses Lazar’s amused look until he speaks up.

“I thought you’d like that one.”

Bell returns the smile. “Oh, hell yeah. It reminds me of the one I had in-”

“Hey, Sims! You know reading that shit’s gonna make you go blind.”

“Yep! That’s why I want it alll up here.” Sims shot Adler a lazy grin. The commander slapped the book back against Sims’ chest.

“Bell, you’re with Sims. You usually bring out the best in each other.”

“RPGS! BRACE! BRACE!”

Bell watched in horror as a rocket collided with the chopper beside theirs. It careened dangerously before smashing into theirs, sending their own bird into a death spiral.

Everything was in chaos.

“Grab my hand! I gotcha! I got-!”

“We’ve lost power-!”

“We’re going down-!”

“BRACE!”

Bell blinks hard and his smile falls. There’s a knowing look on Lazar’s face and neither agent speaks a word about it. “C’mon,” Lazar gives a pat to Bell’s shoulder. “Showtime.”

The pair ride in silence. Lazar’s behind the wheel, giving Bell some time to think. He tries to keep the mission center focus, but the memories of Vietnam are overwhelming, fresh in his mind as if they just happened. And they’re not even real. I was never in Vietnam.

The car rolls to a stop and breaks Bell from his thoughts. “Alright, remember, coms on at all times.” Bell rolls his eyes and pops the door, deftly sliding from his seat. “I mean it, Bell!” But he slams the door without reply, turning towards the street. The small earpiece is already safely pressed into his ear and hidden behind his hair.

The checkered brick sidewalks stretch wide on either side of the street. There’s a decent amount of people strolling to and fro, some carrying briefcases and dressed in neatly pressed suits, others in casual attire with seemingly no important place to be. Lazar pulls off, leaving Bell to head for the first destination on his list.

The first thing Bell notices as he pushes into the first bar is the pungent mingling of smoke, alcohol, and sweat in the air. The floor beneath his boots is a glossy hardwood and matches the light oaken walls. The occupants chatter noisily, and although the sound is familiar, the atmosphere is not. This is not the right place. Keeping his appearance as casual as possible, Bell slips through the crowd and retreats out the back door. He glances around to confirm he’s alone before mumbling his findings to Lazar.

One down, seven more to go.

The second bar Bell stumbles into is smaller. There are less individuals milling around and the golden walls are all wrong from the dark cedar panels from his memory. The third bar is even less promising, while the fourth and fifth are so far from Bell’s memory that he’s positive he’s working backwards now.

Bell rejoins the thinning herd on the streets with a dejected sigh. This wasn’t working out. There’s two more bars to check and already it was getting dark. He’d hope for something; A clue, a new memory, a familiar face. Lazar keeps up with words of encouragement but Bell doesn’t have the capacity to share the optimism.

The sixth bar Bell checks holds a notable hushed atmosphere. Right away he’s stricken by the dark atmosphere. It felt.. Tense. Insidious. It doesn’t feel right, but for an entirely different reason. While most of the denizens ignore Bell, a few side-eye him dangerously. He steps to the counter and orders a drink, primarily to alleviate any suspicions from both inside and out.

Bell can’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into his back. It’s somehow different from when he first walked in and was certainly making him more uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat and tries his best to nonchalantly turn and find who the hell was staring at him so hard, but when he looks, he finds nothing out of the ordinary.

The feeling of unease doesn’t leave. He grows antsy and finally after paying with money given to him by Lazar, Bell downs the last of his drink and turns back into the streets. This is certainly not going the way Bell had hoped. The seventh bar is quite the walk from the sixth, allowing him some time to breathe and collect his thoughts.

The feeling of unease melts from Bell’s shoulders the longer he walks. Lazar’s quiet so he turns his attention outward and listens curiously to the broken chatter of the dwindling civilians.

“-think he talks about anything else?”

“Well, it’s not like-”

“Timur?”

“That’s not.. Point.. Why else-”

“Timur!”

“I just think you should consider-”

A hand lands heavily on Bell’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He turns in surprise.

“Timur!” A man stands before Bell with a lazy smirk and a gleam to his eyes- as if he recognizes him. His dark hair is cropped close to his head and a pair of lightly tinted shades adorns his face. The accent is certainly not Russian, and it throws Bell off guard. “Hey! Remember me?”

#cod cold war #black ops cold war #russell adler #cod bell #male bell #bocw #lazar azoulay #fanfic #can you guess who he ran in to?#i tried v hard to put some features without making it obvious who it was-

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liliesoftherain · 4 years

Text

My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader

Ch. 18 Code Names

A/N: Guess who’s back... back again.. shady’s back.. tell a friend- But really! Hey guys! I bet none of y’all missed me, but I deeply missed you.

So this is a little rant so you can 100% skip this and read the story! Enjoy!

Anyways, I kinda stopped talking to everyone I met here on tumblr, and that makes me really sad. I mean, I have no one to blame but myself, but now that I’m in a better place, I hope things can go back to normal, so, @pocket-is-obsessed @pinky-the-elephant-room @sunnieskies02 , and everyone else, I’m sorry. I love y’all, and I miss y’all.

Masterlist

If anyone wants to be added to the taglist, or if I missed you, please send an ask and I’ll add you!!

TAGLIST(ANY BOLD-I CANNOT TAG YOU FRO WHATEVER REASON): @rizamendoza808 !(: @iris-suoh !(: @quicksilverfangirl !(: @shortperson202 !(: @noodlenerd101 !(: @matchamidoriya !(: @thorsbtch-captainnoobmaster69me !(: @pastel-prynce !(: @sunkissedneptune @monetfatalia !(: @legit-fandom-trash !(: @lovethewitchofendor !(: @dekuxlink !(: @water-melone98 !(: @helena-way07 !(: @nothing17-7 !(: @hopelessdisasterr !(: @karmaboundlife !(: @lunamoonmint !(: @ihatemyselftoinfinityandbeyond !(: @beew !(: @kaylees1414 !(: @axerrri !(: @icythotsenpai !(: @iwantapoptartqwq !(: @acehyacinth !(: @sspidermanss !(: @httpswwwtbhkcom !(: @omgthatonenerd06 !(: @mochicheeks-world !(: @gvthic-gvrl !(: @jinxed-egg !(: @themagical1sa !(: @cherriomilkmangos !(: @1-800-schmacked !(: @human-watching-ads-from-devildom !(:

The following days were spent resting up, allowing your body to heal from the taxing day you endured; any cuts or bruises that had managed to slip pass Recovery Girl were now reduced to nothing but a memory. Monday came by, quicker than you hoped, and you were on the train headed towards the school grounds. You basked in the steady hum of the engine, watching the scenery fly by, until the area around you began to break out into murmurs.

“That’s Hakamata, isn’t it?”

“Best Jeanist’s daughter!”

“She won third place at the sports festival, it’s amazing!”

“Oh wow!”

“Hey, good job at the festival! I totally knew you were going to hit it big!”

“You were so close to winning!”

“Good luck!”

“Keep working!”

Exiting the train with a wave, you sigh in relief. While it left your heart fluttering with pride at the praises and recognition, it was still overwhelming to have so many people talking about you, to you, at once.

You arrived at the school gates, quickly rushing inside, shaking your umbrella off as you broke it down. You quickly grab what you need from your locker, placing your umbrella with the others before heading off to your classroom.

Pushing the door open, you smile at the conversations that were going on--everyone seemed to be in high spirits, and you missed the rambunctious energy of your friends.

“Hakamata!-” Denki was grinning and waving excitedly, turning to look at you as you sat down, “How was it coming to school this morning? I bet a lot of people noticed you! Isn’t it great how we’ve all been thrown into the spotlight after just a few days, huh?”

“I guess, it’s nothing much really. We should all be proud of how far we’ve gotten huh?”

“Of course! 1-A is awesome! Only 1-A kids took any of the top spots after all!”

Your attention is stolen as the door opens, catching the eyes of the boy who had been on your mind all weekend. Todoroki blinked at your stare, only for your eyes to be forced away as Kaminari demanded your attention on something. You struggle to focus, nodding along as you desperately try to make his words have meaning--since your thoughts drifted towards your last encounter.

“Aizawa-sensei, your bandages are gone!”

“Oh, I’m so happy!”

Your eyes snap to the front of the room, seeing your teacher--looking way better than he had previously. He looked as if nothing had ever happened, the only indication being the freshly made scar residing under his eye.

“Yes, they are. Thanks. However, more importantly, we’re having a special hero informatics class today…”

Silence hung in the air, each student desperately trying to figure out what could possibly be going on--a pop quiz, maybe?

“You all need code names.”

The class shouted in relief and excitement, only to have Aizawa glare at the noise. You all quieted down immediately, one menacing look from your teacher was all it took. Once settled, he explained further on the subject: how the code names worked, about the internships, and how these offers weren’t normally given to first years such as yourselves.

“Here, the offers…”

Aizawa clicked a remote, causing a holographic image to appear on the board, showing how many hero agencies put in offers for each student. The first three statistics were large, the rest of them dropping drastically from the thousands, to a few hundred and less.

You see your name as the second highest ranking, shocking you, beating the first-place festival winner by more than 50 whole offers.

“Normally the offers are more spread out, but this year all eyes were on these three.”

“Gah, there’s such a big difference!”

“Todoroki is first, Hakamata is second, and Bakugou is third…?”

“How is that, when Bakugou was the winner?”

“Seems the scores are the opposite of the sports festival rankings.”

“Guess some people may be too scared to ask a guy who had to be chained to his podium.”

“HAH!? What are the pros scared of!?” Bakugou whipped around, glaring at Sero for his comment.

Ignoring the loud outburst, you glance behind you at Todoroki, who looked as unbothered as ever at the fact he had the most offers. You give him a small smile as your eyes once again connect, just as they did right before the start of class, and he--surprisingly--returns the gesture.

“Despite these results, you’ll all be interning with pros. Offers or not.”

“So, we can all intern?”

“Yes. Seeing as you guys have had combat with real villains--thanks to the USJ incident. We believe it will be beneficial to see real pros up close, on the field, and to do that…”

“We need hero names!”

“Yes. They may be temporary, but take them seriously or--”

“THERE WILL BE HELL TO PAY LATER!”

Aizawa was cut off by the sudden shout, the door followed by slamming open, stealing everyone’s attention. He sighed as the risque pro hero Midnight sauntered inside, smirking at the attention that fell upon her.

“Midnight is going to have final approval over your names,” your teacher starts, pulling up his sleeping bag, “It’s not my forte--but just remember, the name you give yourself represents what kind of hero you want to be. It’s important.”

What kind of hero I want to be, huh?

You were handed a stack of white cardstocks, passing the remainders back as you grabbed one for yourself. It seemed like a normal, blank canvas, but you saw it as a gateway to your future as a hero. You remember all the times you tried on different hero names--mostly different variations of your fathers, even if now you cringed at the memories.

You knew your hero name was important and necessary, a name to prove to the world who you were and what you were capable of.

‘Your hero name is supposed to represent your desires-- to allow you to become your ideal self. What kind of hero do you want to prove yourself to be, or better yet, just--who are you?’

You take a deep breath, taking comfort in your father’s words as you write down your name…

“Now students, who is ready to share?”

You watch the students go up one-by-one; cringing slightly at the--extravagant--name Aoyama had chosen from himself, feeling bad for Mina as she was sent back to her desk to rethink, and giddy at the cute name Tsu had picked. The rest of the names went by alright until Todoroki had gone up to present his hero name.

“Shoto.”

“Oh,” Midnight blinked in surprise, “just your name?”

“Yeah.”

You frown slightly, Shoto hadn’t looked up, choosing to stare down at the podium with a blank expression instead. You watch as he trudged his way back to his desk, still no eye contact towards anyone as he sat down. Biting your lip, you try to shake the image from your mind. He had his reasons, and you didn’t have to know them.

“Jet Black Hero: Tsukuyomi!”

“Oh, God of the Night! I love it!”

You snap your attention back towards the front, giving a small clap to Tokoyami as he presents his name. He bows at the class before sitting down.

Mineta and Koda present their names, both very fitting and true to their image. You felt yourself grow the tad bit eager as Bakugou was the next one to present his name.

‘I wonder what it could be? He excels in just about everything, he must have a really cool hero name picked out-’

“KING EXPLOSION MURDER.”

The name wasn’t what got you, it was the serious look on his face as he said it that did. You slap a hand over your mouth, snickering as quietly as you could into your palm. You weren’t the only one holding back giggles, Eijiro, Sero, and Kaminari doing the same.

“Um, I’m going to have to say that one is too violent.”

“Hah!? Whaddya mean-”

“Why don’t you be Explosion Boy instead!” Eijiro suggests.

“Nah, he should be Grenades!” You chime in, a smirk on your face as you mimic his gauntlets.

“Or what about ‘BOOM PSH BAWHH’, you know, explosion noises!” Denki laughs.

“How would you even spell that-”

“SHUT UP ALL OF YOU, OR I’LL SHOW YOU WHY MURDER SHOULD BE IN MY NAME!” Bakugou interrupts, a scowl on his face as he yells at the three of you.

“Maybe your hero name should be ‘Anger Issues’, it’s fitting, dontcha think-”

You were cut off by a growl from Bakugou, his face morphing into pure anger as he points straight at you.

“BRING IT, GLOW WORM! I BET YOUR HERO NAME IS GOING TO BE CRAPPY.”

You say nothing in return, standing up and making your way towards the podium, giving him a teasing smile as you got close enough.

“Go sit down and maybe you’ll see.”

“Good idea, go sit down and rethink your name a bit, Bakugou.” Midnight agrees, clapping her hands to diffuse the tension.

He grumbles on the way back to his desk, and you just face the class with a sheepish grin.

“Well, here’s what I want to be--who I will be; Luminary!”

You picked a name like Luminary because you wanted to prove that you were more than just another person; you wanted to be the guiding light, leading people to justice, leading people to their hope. Maybe you weren’t there yet, you did have a long way to go before you could be considered a pro, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to try.

You’d be the light, shining in the darkness, for all others to see and follow.

“Oh how sweet, you’ll be a very inspiring hero, I’m sure!”

You shyly smile at the applauds, only for the demeanor to change, a smirk growing as you see Bakugou roll his eyes and look away.

Checkmate.

After a few more people presenting, Izuku shakily stands at the podium, taking a deep breath before showing his cardstock.

Blinking in surprise, you zone in on the singular word on the card, raising an eyebrow questioningly at the boy.

“Really Midoriya?”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah man, remember that can be your name forever.”

“Right,” He looks down, “I used to hate it, but then something changed… I guess, someone taught me that it could have a different meaning, and that had a huge impact on how I felt about it. So now, I like it!”

You smile wide as he makes direct eye contact, giving him a nod of encouragement.

“Deku, that has to be my code name!”

-----

“Now that that’s all done, we can go back to talking about the upcoming internships. They are a week long, and as to who you’ll be interning with; if you were on the board, you will choose from one of the offers you were given, as for everyone else, you’ll be choosing from a different list.”

The lists were handed out as soon as the bell rang overhead, signaling the end of the first half of the day, and the beginning of lunch.

“I wanna fight crime and bad guys in a big city!” Kirishima grinned, eyes taking in every name on his sheet of paper.

“I just hope I can intern at a place where there’s a lot of water!” Tsu sighed.

“Turn in your choices before the weekend.”

“We’ve only got two days!?”

“Yeah, so you better figure it out. Dismissed for lunch.”

Aizawa shut the door as he and Midnight walked out, leaving the class to class among themselves.

You read down the list, sighing in defeat as you had multiple papers of agencies stapled together. You should feel grateful, and you do, but there were too many places to choose from! Plus, you were probably just going to end up interning with your dad--

You pause as you read a specific agency, blinking before rereading it to make sure you weren’t seeing things. You weren’t, because right there in bold lettering:

“Endeavor Hero Agency”

What could Endeavor possibly want you to intern with him for?

Taking a look around the room you see most of your classmates breaking off into groups--some heading for the mess hall, and others staying in their seats. You spot Todoroki as he walks out the door.

“Ne, (y/n), what agency are you thinking of-”

“Sorry Eijiro, I’ll talk to you later,” You smile apologetically, standing up to race after the boy--not feeling the few pairs of eyes on your body as you leave.

“Todoroki, wait up!”

He turns to you, confusion in his eyes but waits for you nonetheless. You stop in front of him, clutching onto the list you had brought with you.

“Yes?” His voice was vacant of emotion, and while it was normal, it made you feel nervous.

“Uh, sorry, I just have something to tell you.”

He tilts his head, an indicator for you to continue, and you take a deep breath before presenting him the paper. His eyes search the words, bewildered as he tries to understand what you were trying to show him. Pointing at the hero agency you knew he was familiar with, you see how his eyes widen ever so slightly.

“Endeavor made me an offer…”

“I see.”

“Well, I just wanted to say I won’t-”

“You should take it.”

Your brows furrow, taken aback by his statement.

“What?”

He hands you back your list, looking straight into your eyes with a small flame of determination.

“You should take it. It’s a great opportunity to be working with the number two hero.”

“I was going to go for my dad, who still is in the top five, you know.” You respond, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh,” Todoroki’s eyes widen once more, “sorry. I didn’t mean to say your father... he is a great hero. I just… I may hate my father, but I know working with the number two hero will provide some benefits. His agency is pretty good with things like rescue and evacuation, along with battle. It’s a good opportunity, something different than what you see every day at your father’s own agency. Isn’t it good to want to get a new perspective on things? To take these ideas you learn, and make them your own, I guess?”

You’re unsure of what to say, agreeing with the boy internally as his gaze falls towards the ground.

“I know I want to be a better hero than my old man. I want to be seen as someone not in his shadow, not ‘Endeavors son’. And if that means I have to put up with him for a week, so be it. I’ll learn to be better, I swear it.”

“Um,” You rub your arm shyly, “so that means you’ll be interning with him, then?”

Todoroki nods in response.

“Well, I suppose that means I’ll see you there. If, um, if you’re okay with that.”

“Yea, I am.”

You smile, and a spark of emotion floods through his eyes as he mirrors your expression, and it somehow makes you relax. He was completely right; he had said everything you had ever thought about yourself, how you wanted to prove that you were more than just a daughter of a great hero. That you were a great hero yourself.

With that in mind, you had no regrets as you turned in your list--even if it was Endeavors Agency.

You’d be ready.

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queenofallwitches · 3 years

Text

an update and primer:

so the last winter was weird. I had a complete breakdown, went into psychiatric hospital for 40 days in total. two seperate times.

learnt a heap of new things, met a tonne of cool people and had amazing conversations and few fights but overcome my own demons by that.

brain speaking-I have a scarred brain stem and neurological disorder is not a mental diagnosis, but a neurological disorder, proven by MRI scan, ADHD.

also damage to my basal ganglia, and prefrontal cortex.

neurological diagnosis means ADHD is not a "mental" health issue, as some believe, rather a neurodevelopment disorder caused by structural differences in the ADHD brain.

other neurodevelopment disorders include: Tourettes, Autism, Cerebal Palsy, Dyslexia and other Motor and Intellectual Disabilities. (Which recieve, in my view, a lot of insight, media information and stigma reduction by the advocacy networks surrounding these types of disability).

Over the last few years Autism has been over everything, I've seen mainstream media cover Tourettes and yet ADHD is still HUGELY misunderstood, misconceived and misrepresented in media, be in from the angle of documentaries, personal insight of a "typical" case, films, tv, and other media.

one of the first things my dr told me was "in females it rarely presents as hyperactive red-cordial OD child"

which is what my mother BELIEVES, that is because I have an adopted cousin with the ADHD dx who was that growing up, but the representation I'm told is also divergent for women with a higher IQ score than the average IQ. I come in around 142 and tested 123 at age 3 when I was unable to focus, pay attention and had severe trauma. I tested 142 in grade 8.

I'll share my experience as a female who is intellectually gifted, with higher IQ than average, and an adhd brain:

I've been told gifted and talented "genius" children are harder to diagnose because the symptoms present differently, we hide it better (camouflage) and our focusing can be "faked" by mediocre efforts of academic success.. this is true, I would do the assignment the Sunday night hours deadline, last minute, or have my parents half do it for me, plagiarise it (fuck I've killed my whole academic career now) copied but changed my words

from old 1970s encyclopaedias I KNEW they couldn't cross reference (I went through 15 years of school never studying doing homework or assignments and still had top grades).

I literally did not listen, and spent my classes planning the end of the world survival strategies with my GT friend who, basically helped me with my calculus and hard fucking maths, which was the ONLY 50 minutes of the day I put attention into my work.

now I'm going to be heading back to full-time study in the coming months, I get anxious as the pressure of a Bachelor level degree, and the pressure it takes me to perform, is enough to break me down. I've been advised it might be wise to start light (like a basic vet style diploma) and then build up, which is logical, but I keep thinking I'm meant to be doing my thesis by now. which is the kind of pressure one gets as a kid who is told repeatedly, "your intelligence is exceedingly the average and you can do ANYTHING you want"

I wanted to be an astronaut, a storm chaser, and an architect, a town planner and then a journalist. I always held to being a "FBI agent" or spy (I wonder why). so when I found psychology is really a blend of all these things, I kinda found a niche in a psych and social science double degree. but I'm thinking my academic career is LIFELONG, and due to the fact I also want to work in my field alongside my many written thesis coming, I'll be in academics for a long time. I may fail a few things, which I have to come to terms with. I do not fail easily, or readily, but I'm a perfectionist type-a academic who will put my whole life on the line to achieve "merit". I get exams, I get assessments, I read journals super-easy, I talk the talk and walk the walk so well psychologists who are at masters level compliment me on my "knowledge".

when it comes to mental health and trauma, I will always have the personal attachment, called lived experience, which will make failure and burnout, 100 percent realistic. I have to boundary up, bootstraps on, and prepare that yes, my personal "bias" will probably be entwined in this.

which is why I'm looking at the social science for the statistics and thesis writing side of things, and the counselling for the trained therapist side. either way, the degree of counselling requires so much self-insight, and then the social-science will back me away from personifying it. the other choice is criminology, which leads to forensic psychology, which is eternally fascinating. my main concern is the pro-pedophile content Ill be up against, which will look at the anatomy of a shoplifter akin to the devil, and leave the pedophile in the DSM-5 dx "paraphilia" box.

I'm not joining or jumping to anything.

either way I've got 2 year of credit, a heap of pathways and a lot of "academic momentum" from all my life being aimed to be "academic powerhouse". I went through my files and found a lot of awards I'd won in my high school, and top place in the competitions we would be entering in. I remember feeling so sad if I had a "credit" vs a distinction or high distinction, only to see now, a credit in university maths in year 9 is a skillset I don't have anymore so, good on me. or a credit in English, or Science at that age was pretty impressive, considering these tests were random and not studied for.

just a general skills assessment only the top 30 kids in the year were to take on a year by year basis and put out to vet from the top universities and taken by other kids in the same grade around the state.

it puts so much focus on my intelligence, because it's primed to be that way, I know that is true. I know I feel good being academically successful and it gives me a feeling of "achievement" but is it really for me?

I also found 2 letters from my local politicians offering me job placement, work experience and I was 1/4 kids in my 10th grade graduation tom get the letter, and due to my behaviour I pissed ALL the idiots who bullied me off. I was "too pretty to be a nerd" "too smart to be pOpUlAr".

so I made a group of misfits, who are all highly intelligent, creative and my group had the ONLY gay male in the school AND THIS IS BEFORE YOU FUCKING RETARDS MADE IT "COOL". he was bullied badly, so fuck you, you fucks claim "liberalism" but I bet you were the type of idiot who bullied guys like him in high school while you pretended to like my chemical romance and fake cut yourselves. I hate you all, forever.

my grade was full of idiots who were fake emo, who left the scene the moment the scene changed to dub-step and club music. I was there, watching you all, like sonny Moore, went from FFTL to that dubstep skrillex shit he started in 2009.

I dated you, hooked up with you and I went to your gigs. I know who was real and who was fake. I met some of you years later and realised the more emotive ones were the less "alternative appearing".

I can say 1/10000 emo guys from the 00s were genuinely Into the music and scene for the right reasons based on my dating history and this can and will be analysed statistically using SPSS one day to prove a lot. I've had too many relationships from each sub-culture and I have had 4-11 males at a time per public "output" of my energy pursue me over life.

I'm not being cocky when I say I have a long line of "suitors" and its banked back about 50 men. it's been a thing I've avoided as it seems to grow based on my body shape, attitude, appearance, so I am currently out of touch with dating scenes, no interest to try that ANYWAY, given the fact that I have had so many LONG TERM relationships ANYWAY. I can't see another one going well, and at this case, I'm living with an ex but we never went on conventional and now our families label this 3 things: "asexual", "polyamorous" and "open relationship". I'm also "bisexual" but this all to humans outside, looks ridiculous on paper. (wild orgies and lots of swinging or some stupid sex magick probably is what J brother literally thinks we do).

bc humans are intrinsically designed to need to label things they don't understand. we share a lease, not a relationship, and fucking polyamorous, I WISH. there are no girl-girl-guy 3 some, or orgies, or sex magic parties.

this has changed the attitude and perception of this "relation' which Is non-romantic, non-sexual. he can date and likely, will, as can I , and I likely won't date.

I would say 14/15 have had ADHD, or other mental illness and or trauma. which means to me, nothing at all.

I think this "open book" non romantic relationship style of "friends and roommates" not sexual.

attachment is misunderstood by others but works well fro my adhd, meaning I'm not expected to marry, or be a wife in any capacity. he is free to do what he wants, as I am, and open communication is a novel frontier I brought into this in the start, and stayed with for the duration. we fight, but I fight with a lot of people in my life over many petty things. also down to my adhd, I believe, I have rejection sensitive dysphoria, which makes me hypersensitive to rejection, perceived or real.

im not sure if this is trauma or adhd or both. but

I have used sexuality as a weapon in many relationships but it cannot or will not be used here, so I have had to resort to uncovering parts of myself which I never knew, which will stay with me even if he decided to marry and wife up in 5 years, which I'm okay and expecting him to do, and I would much rather that then be trapped in a situation where I cannot be that "wife/mother archetype" as I'm too "femme fatal/other-woman/sex-laced seductress and siren" a "FWB, unicorn, drug buddy, hook-up where im a therapist" or "intellectual and cognitive mind-bender work-study obsessed woman".

both at once and many types of human, including one who is a full-time ceremonial magician of 7 years. I will drink, drug, fuck, fight like males and still be more feminine and high maintenance than 89% of women. I grew up a tomboy and don't mind getting into fun, adventure based situations, like hiking, or anything adrenaline, I would only be reluctant to eat weird shit.

I also have many "neurological" issues including ADHD, and trauma which causes a rupture in the average human and I dating.

I'll tell you how many men have said "you are the unicorn" and then realised what that means, I went as far as canvasing the PUA world back in 2014 after reading the game, a book on PUA, which is essentially, pick up artistry, based on NLP and hypnosis. I did this after reading the copy my ex in 2008 handed me before we dated saying "I gave this up for you". it took me years to open the book, buy when I did I truly believed the only way I would fall in love again, was through PUA. that failed in so many ways but gave me a training foundation for men who were candidates for that, I have trained up J, and the way that sounds is BAD. I know, but I got a lot of value myself, I just don't see it how I wanted to see it.

but that was my original intent, and I achieved this he knows that, knew it was happening and evolved for the best self.

I am thinking we can modulate this into a business model for how I was operating in the BDSM world was mainly psychological, not physical.

I get told all of is incredibly intimidating (I am told) to women and men.

I don't really care anymore, because people have always seen this part of me in the wrong way ANYWAY, but I own who I am NOW. which is what I needed ANYWAY. so it cannot be stolen again, and sexual healing has come from abstinence ironically.

I also don't care what or who is trying to tear up my relations, toxic or not toxic, all people around me will be on a healing journey by default, or cut out of my life, for I am radiating that energy so brightly its impossible NOT to feel that pull.

I will drag your shadows into the light, and make your secrets spin from your lips into my consciousness. its not what I do but its what is design.

I make your weaknesses mountains to climb over. you cannot hide from these in my presence, I won't be this controlling or obsessive female who wants 24-7 attention as I have a life full of meaning without love or sex. I don't want to be wined, dined or expensively gifted, unless specially requested.

I don't want love letters or romantic declarations, this isn't some femnazi bullshit, but it triggers me. I appreciate the efforts and won't make you feel bad about your insecurities, for mine are probably 30 x more pronounced.

I appreciate small things, that most males won't or don't know how to do. like remembering things I've said and being thoughtful. or knowing my silence isn't personal, or a game, but a protective wall. I've had songs sung too me, guitars played, songs written, or things made in ways that are heartfelt. but I've always had them used against me too. so it is the context. I value time, energy, conversations of depth and reciprocal exchange. I also value trauma understanding, my alters and fragments being accepted and valued as me as a whole and a person who is not afraid, or scared of stupid stuff like sensitivity, emotions, feelings as raw as my own. men feel intensely too, lol.

but will only give oral sex 100 times before I don't recieve it, I can communicate now so that wouldn't happen.

but I won't be a bitch about this stuff. I am extremely feminine and care in ways other people, do not, I forget nothing people tell me, so it can be a reward or reverse uno card pull in a fight, but I am not evil or deviant in my relations. I react, depending on how you treat me. I don't need your money, or providing source of income to be okay as I am my own queen, however sharing resources is okay to build something. I don't need to be seduced, but will need to be shown a person is trustworthy.

few cross that.

that will always be time-endurance and testing. there are ground rules I don't play with, or play games. or like being forced or forged into something I'm not. I know abusive and I know safe, and I am a psychology expert, trained psychotherapist and study humans for fun, so I'll always be analysing things.

and I know red flags and I know ego, I know how to placate and please and pleasure, but will only do so, for a bigger and better reason than the mere act of seduction. which is without value and transactional to someone like me, I won't lie.

and I know every tactic in the book, for the book was written by someone like me, many lives ago, and my karma is being burnt for that book.

in terms of walls, I have many, may it be called a maze. or labrnyth.

I will teach you things you never thought you'd know, and change your life in ways you won't ever be able to go back to before. I will blow your mind, sexually, emotionally, intellectually, on all levels, and I'll make your friends and family love me.

I'll bring your walls down and you won't be able to understand this, because you don't understand me, and thats ok.

but I'll always understanding you and make your life better because thats what I do anyway, and people talk to me about things I will never share, as I keep secrets. I am jealous, of everything but, only because I am attached in a disorganised way, and working on that.(I won't even mention how man women or men don't know basic psychology of themselves). I also am a therapist , for my friends and family too.i should not be , but I am. I care, I listen, If you think I'm not listening, I'm still listening. sometimes I interrupt, because I have ADHD and I am horrible at resolute planning, or being "normal". but I don't want to be normal anyway. I need you to recognise and understand my shit, for that is what I do for everyone in my life, and I have helped more than I receive.

I'll probably accidentally give you therapy, but thats fine, because you will uncover your depths and find meaning in this. it's not something that goes bad unless you are fundamentally, evil, even the most abusive relationship I was in, was benefited from this process. yes he's still narcissistic, but he is self-aware. and did I benefit, never, just know the anatomy of self-proclaimed narc and I still can't hate him. will get my civil claim one day.

I will fuck your mind without meaning too. but thats because I fuck my own mind. but the meaning is made in the man- some find this highly offensive or personal (its not). I fuck minds by my own overthinking, or over perception on many levels of reality. so join the ride, or don't come along at all. because once the rollercoaster is in motion, I have no control of what may or may not happen. it's purely experimental.

I am experimental.

and the women who are judging me, are not any better.

look within, and shut the fuck up. self-improve and quit this jealous divide and conquer bitchiness. I HATE gossip, bitches, snitches and fakers.

I look to other women who are intellectually, physically and spiritually "individual". and find value in superior status to my own, which is something my narcissistic ex taught me.

I look for mentors, and teachers and people who will teach me how to improve myself, which I am fearful to reconnect after something is amazing and I can't give anything back of positive value. I am sorry I am working on that.

I won't devalue those below me, but I also need to be mutually benefiting from a relationship.

I dont drag people down, I may disappear if I feel I am doing this by mistake. I am flakey as fuck, and sorry for that. its anxiety and lack of perfectionism, so I am wrong and bad for this. I can change. will change.

if you can find value with my relation, personal professional or romantic, we can move into a symbiotic beneficial agreement based on mutual "terms". but many won't or cannot see this, nor do I impose my bullshit into the lives of randoms at this age.

I don't care if this is cruel, it's real.

I value loyalty, compassion, self-insight/awareness, someone who understands all parts-spirituality, metaphysics while still having intellectual & logical & analytical brain-sight.

I enjoy music, magick and learning new things.

I do not care about appearances I dont think ive dated based on one time. I do value connections and chemistry which is far-few between, I hate fakers. I smell insincerity miles away. but I do respect women who are well-presented, or beautiful, with hair beauty and makeup, I can't do this shit well, so I look up to those who are in professions who do it like art. I find them to be genius level queens who scare me.

I call out bad behaviour and make people uncomfortable if they are repressed. I will change you without even meaning too, I don't even need to date you. its just my presence, over time, amplified by the intensity of the dynamics.

I don't want simplicity, but I also don't need over complexity.

I value passion, independence, creativity, curiosity, problem-solving, deep-disscussions, shared adventures and some occasional risk-taking (lol), sensuality and sexuality for a common cause beyond physical pleasure. I like being taught but not micromanaged. I need my own independence, and need to be trusted with that. I hate being scolded for that like a child, or being pushed to change my ways to conform to societal values. which I will push back and refuse to do. which is not healthy. I don't adult like many others do, but I try to proceed in other ways. and learn to adult like normal people, accept me.

I also value myself, and how I can be celebrated, enhanced and improved vs. the opposite.

I give space, and have boundaries, and understand human psychology, sexuality and relationships in ways few others unless they are trained, can do.

I value MY time. so you can have space to value YOURS. I dont need to be in anyones pocket for a long time. I love being alone, and being around people who are stimulating, but draining people will be drained out of my life quicker than I intend. I am sorry for the people who felt I disappeared, when I was only trying to be 'fair', if I feel I'm a bad influence, I will work on myself until I'm not. I'm still working on it.

I also use this psychology awareness, to enhance communication, connection. you may or may not become an accidental guinea pig. I will be upfront that I am experimental, but that is part of the buy ticket and take the ride. lets work together. not apart.

I am coming from a place of love, and love is what I feel for my animals, which you will be adopting as children.which I want to stop experiments being done on. I love love, in all ways, but hate cruelty of animals and children, violence and suffering. I dont advocate justice, because I find life is fucking cruel, unfair and unjust. by default, so I focus on myself. what can be changed, and what I am able to do in my own locus on control. I will always find myself drawn to the outsiders, the misfits, the vagabonds, the misunderstood. I want to help people who are society, or socially, disadvantaged by trauma and mental illness, but only when I have ability to help myself.

it's a journey.

I will not date anyone who is cruel to animals, outside of specify magical sacrifice, there is not any place for that. nor will I date or fraternise with anything or anyone linked or associated with pedophilia. I won't judge anyone on anything that are outside animal cruelty and pedophilia. I don't and haven't. I keep on good terms with every ex, bar 1 whom I only apologised too this year. it felt good to do that. I change my behaviour.

I am open, but also highly attuned to both logical, factual, empirical , scientific worlds, and spiritual, intuitive, psychic and the "collective unconscious". I walk in both these realms, and I am "conventionally attractive". which puts a lot of pressure on me, to be "stupid". I am always dumbing myself down to fit into normality, but I look ridiculous if I do that so I peacock my intellect.

only to be misconceived.

I give up because I no longer care how anyone but MYSELF can see ME. I won't dumb myself down , but I can enhance you UP. prepare yourself for graded education, evolution and self-growth on mass scales.sorry not sorry.

that sucks for the people who want to be living vicariously through me, for making up to lost trauma years, for family who sold me out for the success I'd bring home, or fake trauma enmeshed friends, or whatever they want or need from me. I value my time and energy, and have given that in abundance, and if you want to be with nut only "one part of me that is alters". I can't provide that now. not sorry.

I have to work on something or not be in a dynamic at all.

I no longer can switch on demand to adapt for you, it will not be effective and that upsets a lot of people. especially now I'm sober. harder to handle this, as I see the world for its ways and why it is, more vividly. I haven't had alcohol for almost 2 months, although, I could drink, I haven't.

I can't do it, anymore. it, being, faking, my selves fronting to impress. I can't. I have no more left to give, and I'm expected by everyone to be a way I can't do it in the way they want.

I will go to another year long outpatient DBT, followed by 10 weeks of A-C-T therapy, and however many ECT OR TMS may or may not help. I'm told it won't (ect) work. but TMS, is something I am open too. but I am telling you, none of this psychotherapy, that will be based on dbt skills, day therapy, intensive skills training, recommencing my studying, and resuming "life worth living" will or can wipe the traumas I've "recovered" memories for.

I will also shut the fuck up, and tell nobody about this if you leave me alone, I told that to my family, and this is open letter to the watchers, stalkers and perps who read this openly as I track the hits on here and have 200+ visits a day every day for the last month. globally. no idea how or who you are but I think its the same people who called the police for the "ayreon song lyrics" seen to be a suicide not last October.

thanks for that wake up call, I have shut the fuck up, since December, more so now. I will burn the journals, or lock them up.

my recovery is not linear, not yet fully integrated and I trust nobody so I don't think my psychotherapy will be deep, I focus on things like ADHD AND my EDNOS. and dbt skills. I won't be talking about sexual traumas.

enjoy the update, and thanks for the "attention".

I have my goals, my work, my meaning and what my life should and could and will look like, but I will not share that with anyone. that means everyone right now.

I've been tested, traumatised and terrorised to the point of not-tolerant of anyone who may bring that back, and banish the fuck out of my sphere every moment I need.

take me as I am, or watch me as I go, which I will go, where I am not wanted I will remove myself, but I will find where I am celebrated because I create that.

I will rise up against all adversity every time but that is survival and that created a resilient and brave woman, in me. who will not be destroyed or decomposed by humans who are fundamentally fucking evil.

I gift you my truth, in progression, and give up the pain of the past.

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evolutionsvoid · 4 years

Photo

During my journey and research through the Underworld I was continually shocked by the unique niches and ecosystems that the underground world had to offer. One of the realizations that struck me was how the geography and structure of the Underworld itself affected life down below. Sure it may seem like an obvious observation, like how a mountain or canyon would affect a nearby ecosystem, but such things pale in comparison to what is down below. For us on the surface, life pretty much happens on the ground, and everything revolves around that. Mountains and ravines are essentially high and low ground. With the Underworld, though, there is more than just ground. Every ecosystem and land has walls and a ceiling now! Everything is enclosed, so the "sky" at some point has to stop. This doesn't just mean that these habitats are trapped in confined spaces, it rather means that life has more surface on which to thrive on! The walls and ceilings can host fungi and lichens, which in turn brings in hungry critters. More places to burrow, more places to roost. Habitats that extend upward and all around! Can you imagine looking up at a ceiling and seeing just as much life up there as there is on the floor? It is almost like another world, just one that is upside-down! There are a bunch of creatures in the Underworld that live in such places, finding a home atop the roof of their world! Up there, the Orthotite is one of the common species you will see up there. Or perhaps not see, depending on how closely you are looking! The Orthotite is a cephalopod that has switched from living on the bottom of the ocean to the top of a cavern! While it does possess the famed tentacles that the rest of its kind has, some of them have changed quite a bit to adapt to this new environment. Rather than having eight or more flexible tendrils, the Orthotite has changed four of them into thicker, sturdier appendages. These limbs are short and stubby, with the bottom fanning out into a disc shape. These creatures have essentially turned these limbs into stout legs that end in one giant sucker! This is how the Orthotite clings to and travels across the ceiling, simply moving one leg at a time while the rest hang on! Besides these four trunk-like limbs, they have four long tentacles that end in thorny clamps. These are the "arms" of the creature, used to catch food and interact with things in its environment. They are surprisingly flexible and quite elastic, able to stretch and reach in any direction! When not in use, these tendrils can be retracted into its shell, the next feature of the Orthotite we are focusing on! This cephalopod species protects itself with a long sturdy shell, which makes up most of its body! This structure grows throughout their life, becoming larger and stronger with each passing year. The coloration and texture of their shell is designed to imitate the rocky world around them, making it look like a giant stalactite. By clamping down onto the ceiling and retracting their limbs, they can disguise themselves as a plain old stalactite, hiding from both predator and prey! While every Orthotite's shell grows in this stalactite shape, the random spurs and outgrowths are unique to each individual. By noting these extra growths and structures you could use them as an identifier of certain individuals within the population. Life up high in this upside-down world still requires food, and the Orthotite has a particular taste. They are a carnivorous species that can feed on a multitude of small critters, but they prefer to feed on bats. Catching these agile creatures is quite difficult when they are flying, but the Orthotite targets them while they are in a more vulnerable state. Bats in the Underworld commonly roost on the ceiling of the caves and caverns, hanging up high as they groom and rest. This strategy protects them from predators on the ground, but those who dwell up high tend to find them quite in reach. The Orthotite captures its meal in a sneaky fashion. Hiding most of their body in their shell, they will slowly creep up to a place where bats commonly roost. If any prey moves or takes notice, they stop in their tracks and act like any old stalactite. Once in range, they hunker down and wait for the nearby bats to drop their guard. When they are distracted or sleeping, the Orthotite will slowly extend its tentacles, each one reaching for a different target. They will silently slither across the ceiling, moving like snakes that are ready to strike. If they are undetected, the tentacles will snap forward and seize their prey in a spiny grip. The captured prey will be pulled back to the hungry body and eaten. If one of the targets is alerted and tries to flee, its other tentacles serve as backup. The panicked flight from the spotted appendage can often cause one of the other bats to fly in range of another arm, so perhaps the hunt won't be wasted after all! When feeding, the Orthotite will use its facial tendrils to hold its meal while its beaked mouth munches on its prize. These same tendrils are sensitive to taste and smell, and they use them to track down bat roosts as they roam about up above.

For the denizens of the Underworld, the Orthotite can be a rather overlooked species. What folk mainly know of them is their hunger for bats, and that can be a good or bad thing depending on if they want more or less bats in the area. For those who wish to harvest guano for growing crops, Orthotites can be pests that scare away productive roosts. For folk who wish that the enriching guano didn't land on their homes and heads, the Orthotite is a blessing. Their populations are strongest in caverns that possess cities and towns, as they help curb the local bats. Outside of that, no one really cares too much about them. I imagine this feeling is because the Orthotites are high above and quite inaccessible. Unless you are scaling the cavern walls or crossing the suspended walkways high above, you won't really see much of them. They spend their entire lives on the ceiling, so much so that there was a popular myth that Orthotites were incapable of living right-side up! It was believed that their organs and anatomy was so highly specialized to hanging upside-down all their lives that if you turned them over, their bodies would fail and die. How bizarre! It has since been debunked, but I was quite curious about it myself! How would one react if placed on floor, out of its element? This was a test I never had the chance of performing, as getting my hands on a live Orthotite was quite difficult. Goodness, I had a hard enough time trying to observe them in their natural habitat! I am a decent climber from all my travels, but I am not nearly good enough to scale Underworld terrain and hang from the ceiling at such a height! The only way I could observe them was to get access to one of their suspended walkways that hang up above their cities. Even then, I could only observe them through binoculars and telescope, as they roamed a distance away from these artificial paths. I didn't get a lot of time to watch them, as the network of paths I was on suddenly shook! I suspected one of Valac's pranks at first, but it turned out there was a construction team working on another part of the network. They were removing dangerous stalactites before they broke off and rained down on the citizens below, and during their work a collected chunk swung free and sent tremors through the whole network. For the demons and shades up there, it was nothing. As simple as a light breeze on a rope bridge. For me, it was terrifying. The whole path swung to and fro, and my mind finally realized how high up we were and how hard I would go splat if I fell. Imagine that! In the bowels of the earth and I get struck with a fear of heights! Odd as it was, it totally happened. In an instant I wanted to be anywhere else and desperately sought to have my roots on the earth again. I got so freaked out that I think Vespar practically carried me down from there. It was crazy! I have climbed mountains in pursuit of trolls and here I am losing my mind on a well-established, well-maintained catwalk! Incidents like that made me quite the target for teasing, and in that case I don't think I can blame them! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ----------------------------------------------------------- More Underworld critters!

#monster #creature #cephalopod #squid #octopus #orthoceras #art #drawing #stalactite

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skrltwtch · 3 years

Text

Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine #fun fact #I wrote this story in early october last year #and it's kind of truth in television for me now

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vintage-story-time · 3 years

Text

MANHATTAN MADNESS by Chili Peeler

Chapter 1

Jim Andrews stared through the window of the plane as it came in for a landing at LaGuardia. He had never seen anything as impressive as the island of Manhattan; it looked like every square inch of the island was filled with a skyscraper. At 17 years of age, the biggest city he had ever been to had been Des Moines. When his sister, Elizabeth, had written to him and asked him if he wanted to come visit her, he'd jumped at the chance. He felt the same urge as Elizabeth had; to get out of the backwater burg his family lived in back in eastern Nebraska. He admired the way Elizabeth had just tore out one night, leaving a note for their parents that she was going to travel and see what else was out there in the world. That had been 3 years ago and no one in the family had seen her since. Occasionally a postcard would come, addressed to him, from different cities around the country. Chicago, New Orleans, Dallas......but never with a return address. Then, a few weeks ago, a letter. And then a week later, a round trip ticket from Topeka.

The plane was coming in low now over the Long Island Sound. He'd studied a map in the family Encyclopedia Britannia; probably outdated but he doubted they had changed the name of the Sound. He looked over again at Manhattan, still not believing his sister had made it this far from home. Jim came out of the airplane entrance ramp, walking in the midst of other passengers. He moved forward, swinging his head from side to side, looking for Beth. He tried to keep in mind, as he scanned the faces around the gate, that his sister was sure to have changed in the three years she'd been gone. The crowd began to thin away, people meeting their families and heading for the baggage claim. Jim was beginning to feel dumb, standing there with his head swiveling around. "Jim?!" He looked around and there she was - his big sister, Elizabeth. Man, had she ever changed! When she's left, she'd had short brown hair and the fashion sense of any other teenaged girl from eastern Nebraska, namely jeans and T-shirts. But now there was a wild looking girl....no, woman...in tight black Lycra pants, a bright red half-shirt that let her stomach bare and a tan suede jacket with lots of tassels swinging everywhere. Her hair was now blondish, long, over her shoulders with a tight curl. "Look at my baby brother - all grown up!" Beth said as she ran up to him and gave him a big hug which he returned with equal affection. "Beth, man, I've missed you..look at you!" He let her go and motioned to her attire. "You look like a fashion model or something." "What, these old things!" Beth laughed. "When in New York, do as the Yorkers do. Come on, let's go get your bags. I'm sorry I was late...it was hell getting a taxi today." "You don't have a car?" Jim said. "No one in New York has a car. There's barely enough room for the people. You'll see. This the most remarkable city in the world..... Tomorrow I can show you around, do the tourist thing." "Sounds good to me." Jim said as they headed down the concourse. In the cab on the way to Elizabeth's place, they caught up a little on the three intervening years. Elizabeth asked about the old town, the high school, if he knew anything about any of her old friends. Jim pumped her for the things she had seen on her travels, how she liked New York, etc. Beth seemed to want to steer away from the topic of why she hadn't kept in touch with the family more; she would just say that it was probably best for everyone, then added she hadn't wanted to worry them. "So, tell me, little brother, do you have a girlfriend back there?" "Well, I've had my share but I'm free at the moment. Why? You got someone you want to set me up with while I'm here?" "No, I was just wondering. When I left, you were still in the 'girl's are yucky' stage." Elizabeth laughed. "Yeah, well, I came to my senses." Jim smiled as the taxi slowed and pulled to the curb in front of tall brick building. "This is it." Beth said as she opened her door. A few minutes later, Beth was opening the door to her fifth story apartment loft. She walked in and hit the lights as her brother carried his case in. "Holy shit! This place is great." Jim complimented her as he looked around. The apartment had real high ceiling, wood floors, cool furniture. "Glad you like it. You can put your bag in here," Beth walked over to a door and turned on the light. He went into the bedroom and dumped his bag on the bed. The room was modern looking and clean. Overhead there was a skylight that was sure to let all the light in in the morning; sleeping in was going to be tough. "You'll be staying in here. This is my room usually. I'll be sharing my roommate's bedroom." "Roommate?" "Yeah, did you think I could afford this place by myself?" "I don't know. What kind of a job do you have?" Jim asked. "I'm a hostess at a club here in town. A really trendy place. It's private, in fact." "And what, you are on a salary?" "Yeah, but most

of the money comes from tips. The member's are loaded....it's really easy work. Just a lot of smiling. Anyway, I hope you're hungry, I'm going to make us some dinner." "I'm starving...all I got was some peanuts on the flight." "Good. Go ahead and unpack and I'll get things going." Beth left him, pulling off her suede coat as she went into the living area. Jim watched her leave and for the first time thought of how attractive Beth had become. She had to know that the clothes she wore left little to the imagination. The tight pants showed off her fine legs and cute bottom. Jim bet she played on her good looks at that club of hers, flashing a smile at the old codgers who'd give her a big tip just for the illusion of her maybe being attainable. Being blessed with good looks was a pretty easy way to get by in life but he couldn't hold that against Beth. It had gotten her away from Shitville, Nebraska. Jim put his clothes in some empty drawers and took his toiletries into the bathroom. Being a neat person by habit, he opened the medicine cabinet to see if there was enough room for his deodorant and shaver. And was surprised to find the cabinet totally empty. Not a bottle of pills, not a pair of tweezers, not a jar of nail polish - nothing. He opened the drawers by the sink and found them empty as well. The absence of any girlie items anywhere in the bathroom struck him as curious. He didn't think Beth had emptied everything out and taken it into her roommate's bathroom; no reason to go to all that trouble, just take the essentials over. The bathroom looked like it wasn't even being used. Jim stowed his stuff in the drawer, kicked off his shoes and went out to see what his sister was making for dinner. "Whoa! Who is this?" Jim said as he looked at a picture of his sister and another woman near the entrance to the kitchen. "Oh, that's Julie, my roommate....well, don't walk on your tongue!" Beth said as she took a bowl out of the cupboard. Julie looked like every man's ideal woman. In the picture, she was standing next to Beth with her arm around her shoulders. Beth was probably 5' 7". Unless Beth was standing in a hole, Julie must be at least 6' 2". Brunette, almost black hair, worn to mid-back with lots of body. Her face was attractive - not great, sorta tough looking but it certainly could be overlooked. But it was Julie's body from the neck down that probably stopped men in their tracks. Julie was stacked. Big round tits with a lot of cleavage showing. 'No way those are real,' Jim thought to himself. Hips that flared nicely, plenty of meat to grab onto there. Legs that looked like she had worn out a Stairmaster. 'She looks like a fuckin' superhero,' Jim thought. Finally he moved on into the kitchen where Beth was smiling at him knowingly. "Yeah, she gets that reaction a lot," Beth said as he leaned against the counter. "I bet she does. Is that all her?" Jim said as he motioned with his hand over his chest. "No.....but she says it was the best $5000 she ever spent." "$5000?! What kind of work does she do? That's a lot of money." "Well...she's an agent, I guess. She hooks people up." Beth said. "Like how?" Jim was intrigued. "Well, she sorta acts like a headhunter." Beth continued after Jim gave her a quizzical look. "She's like a talent agent, finding people for jobs." "Oh, I see." "Don't let her looks fool you," Beth said as she opened the refrigerator and handed him a beer, "Julie's a smart cookie, too." "So how did you two meet?" "At a gym. I was living with this guy for awhile, a real jerk as it turns out, but anyway, I could use his pass fro his health club. Julie and I just got talking and we hit it off. She's probably the best friend I've ever had. She pay's for the lionshare of the expenses for this place." "Well, you've really fallen in it here......penthouse apartment, good job...it sure beats milking the cows at 5 A.M." "Oh God, don't remind

me!" Beth said as she opened a beer for herself. Jim heard the front door open. Beth did too. "That must be Julie," she said to Jim. "JUUULLLEEESS!" "YEEAHH!" "Well, come and meet her," Beth said as she took her brother's hand. They exited the kitchen walking into the dining area and there she was - Julie and the picture didn't do her justice. She was looking through a stack of mail, wearing a form fitting short dress. She looked up then and jerked her head to the side, sending her hair over her shoulder. It was quick natural movement but Jim got the feeling she had waited until they could see her before she did it. "Julie, this is Jim." "So this is your little brother." Julie said as she walked over to them, the emphasis on the word 'little'. "I'd hate to see your 'big' brother." Jim liked the fact that Julie was complimenting him on his physique. He was 5' 11" with muscle from working long hours around the family farm. Julie extended her hand and Jim shook it. "Nice to meet you, Julie." he said and meant it, willing himself not to look at her fantastic chest. Julie could be fodder for many a night of masturbation. "You got a nice strong grip, Jim. You work out?" "Nah. Just work around the farm." he said. "Baling hay, other exciting stuff." "Yeah, Lizzie's told me all about the farm life." Julie said with a wry smirk. Julie bend slightly and gave Elizabeth a peck on her cheek. Elizabeth looked at Jim after it happened but then Julie continued, "So what do you kids have planned for tonight." Jim guessed Julie was maybe 30; certainly older than he at 17 and Elizabeth at 21. Being called a 'kid' made Jim twinge but he got the feeling that was just the way Julie was. Like she wanted to get a reaction. "Nothing tonight." Beth said. "I'm whipping up some dinner and I thought we'd just relax." "I just stopped by to get another pair of shoes," Julie said. "I've got a meeting later, so I'll have to pass on dinner. I'll be back around 11. You'll still be up, right?" "Oh sure, you know me." Beth replied. "All right then, I'll see you guys later." Julie walked off toward the door to the other bedroom on the other side of the apartment. Jim watched her bottom all the way. Beth punched him in the arm to bring him out of it. "You men are all alike!" she said giggling as she went back into the kitchen. Jim followed her. "So shoot me. There's nothing like that back on the farm....Lizzie." "Don't you start with the Lizzie, too. Julie started calling me that but I don't want it to catch on. Beth is just fine." Jim heard the front door open and close again as Julie headed back out into the city for her meeting. Beth was rooting around in the cupboard, pulling out spice bottles. "Dammit!" she said exasperated. "We're out of basil....I'm gonna run down to the market and get some. Without the basil, this dish just doesn't make it." "Hey, don't go to any trouble....." Jim said as he followed her out into the living area. "The market's just around the corner. I'll only be a few minutes." She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. Left alone, Jim wandered around. He went outside on the patio that was off the dining area and looked at the surrounding buildings in the fading dusk. He went into the kitchen and lifted the lid on what Beth was preparing; it looked like an Italian sausage dish. He roamed into the livingroom and studied the prints on the walls; they were all of women, paintings by a guy named Nagel. They reminded him of some of the artwork in the front of Playboy magazines, mildly erotic. He was walking near the door to Julie's room and the door was open, so he poked his head in. The bedroom was larger than the one he was staying in; obviously this was the master bedroom of the apartment. Same skylight, a king-size bed with black and white bedding, same sliding door for the closet and the bathroom door in the same place as in the other

bedroom. Jim was going to move back out into the apartment when he noticed something very interesting sitting on the far bedside table. He couldn't be absolutely sure it was what he thought it was; a magazine was covering part of it. He was going to walk over and check it out but he heard a key being inserted in the front door. Quickly he moved a few feet to the nearby entertainment center and made like he was looking at their music selections as Elizabeth came through the door. "Told you that wouldn't take too long," she said as she pulled off her coat. "Come on and help me set the table." "Sure," Jim said as he followed her toward the kitchen. His thoughts, however, were on what he thought he had seen in Julie's bedroom. It had sure looked like there was a pair of handcuffs under that magazine.

#MANHATTAN MADNESS by Chili Peeler #CHapter 1

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underthedekutree · 4 years

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Young Link might have PTSD - Part 2: Termina is NOT a Parallel World, Technically

This is a continuation of my last post so if you’re seeing this and haven’t read it, go here.

This is the part where I somewhat smoothly segue into Majora’s Mask. Link, lonely and filled with unprocessed trauma, leaves Hyrule in search of Navi. According to most sources (which take from Hyrule Historia probably? don’t quote me on it), Link falls down a hole into Termina, a parallel world to Hyrule, that contains many familiar looking denizens of Hyrule, but playing different roles. And well, if you probably guessed by the title, I have a rather different interpretation.

Okay, so in a nutshell my theory is that Termina is in fact all a dream, kind of like Koholint Island. Except the one dreaming up this world isn’t some deity like the Giants or Skull Kid or the Moon. It’s Link.

(big explainey hoo hah below)

Evidence 1: Link begins the game sleeping. Yes, I know literally every Zelda game begins this way and it’s a whole tradition thing. I am beginning with the weakest points first and working my way up to the strong ones. We’ll get there.

Evidence 2: The reuse of character and environment models from Ocarina of Time. The literal IRL reason for this is of course the game famously being given only one year of production time, which meant that the most practical method was to reuse as much material from MM’s predecessor as possible (eg. Romani Ranch sign is the Kakariko Village sign, and still says Kakariko Village on it). It seems like a rather offhand afterthought for Nintendo to chalk it all up to “oh its just a parallel world like Link to the Past or something. But think of it like this; when we dream, we often see familiar people from throughout our lives put in strange and unexpected situations, like that irritable old farmhand you hated so much is now a depressed circus master for some reason. Dreams don’t make sense. Things you know will mix with other strange inexplicable things, fleeting thoughts in your mind, all roughly tied together by whatever emotions you had been feeling when you went to bed. Malon is split into two people, Romani and Cremia, her older and younger self. This might reflect how Link feels about Malon, that she changed so much in those 7 years that she’s like a different person entirely, that it’s hard for him to process that they are the same, because the change was so shockingly sudden for him.

Evidence 3: Gorons in the snow, Gerudo by the sea. Yes, I know that sounds a lot like good evidence for a parallel world (that’s why the idea is widely accepted in the first place, it has merit), but it also works in as dream world evidence too. As a child, my family was obsessed with skiing. We would go to the same mountain every winter, and we would stay at the same lodge. It almost became like a second home for me. So much so, that one night I dreamed that my house had been replaced by the lodge, so it wasn’t on a snow-capped mountain, but in a bushy Australian suburb. Okay that kinda got off subject but I’m bad at conclusions so in summary Dreams Just Be Like That (tm). You get what I’m saying right? No? Sorry, let’s just move on.

Evidence 4: The Milk Bar. AKA my favourite location in the game! It’s often overlooked as the “haha funny they couldn’t put alcohol in kids game so its kiddy milk hee hee”, but it is actually a strong thematic pillar of Majora’s Mask. As I mentioned in Part 1, if you put a 9 year old in a 16 year old’s body and call him an adult before ripping that all away is probably going to leave the kid with an identity crisis. What is a mature place open at late hours when children are sleeping? A bar. What is a drink associated with the young, being produced for the purpose of helping children grow? Milk. No please don’t go I swear there’s more to this, stay with me. In order to gain access to the bar, Link must prove he is mature enough by wearing a mask, a disguise, like Adult Link is to Young Link. Being adult isn’t earned through years of natural living experience and mental development, it’s a thing you are given by adults to just BE when they deem you worthy, at least from how Link sees it. So that is the amalgamation of dream thoughts that is the Milk Bar. Is it mature? Is it childish? What is the line between the two? Is there one? It’s the culmination of his anxieties and confusions that he doesn’t know how to express. Another, smaller expression of this anxiety is the Clock Town Guards. When Link is a Deku, the guards say they don’t allow children outside the gates. When Link turns back however, the guard goes to stop him because he looks too young, but sees that he has a sword, and lets him pass. Why the sword? Well, in one way this is a callback to Kokiri Forest, where Mido doesn’t let Link see the Deku Tree until he has a sword. But also, what is the item that lets Link travel through time and become an adult in OOT? The Master Sword. Link seems to believe that adulthood is measured by the things you have, physical markers of maturity, which is how lots of children see adulthood. You’re an adult if you can drink, if you’re tall, if you’re married, if you have a house, a car etc. But in reality this isn’t how it works. Heck, I’m technically an adult but I sure as hell don’t feel like one, because I know I still have things to learn about responsibility, patience and all the other things, that can only come with time, which is the moral conclusion of OOT, but clearly Link missed the memo. Don’t get me wrong, there are some indicators to show he’s grown a bit. He can ride Epona, use the bow, do flips like some kind of acrobat etc. But those strange and confused feelings linger, and manifest in the young boy’s dreams.

Evidence 5: The four transformation masks. The four masks represent different aspects of Link’s self, and the way he grew and changed in OOT. Deku Scrub the Innocent, Goron the Confident, Zora the Mature and Fierce Deity the Hero. Link began only knowing the Kokiri Forest, and nothing of the world outside. As he set out on his journey, he grew more confident in his skills and defeated greater foes. When evil took over, he learned from his fatal mistake and worked to right it. And when it was finally time to face the greatest threat, he was ready, with all the heart pieces, bottles full of fairies, Biggoron Sword in hand. At that moment he struck the final blow he probably felt like the strong and unstoppable hero everyone in Hyrule told him he needed to be. And that feeling of pure uncompromising strength, with the whole world behind him, manifested in the Fierce Deity. Fierce Deity is much taller than Adult Link, and packs so much of a punch that he can beat Majora without batting an eye, like some overpowered Super Saiyan. It reminds me a lot of Undertale, with young Asriel becoming what he imagines to be an all-powerful godlike being, like something you’d see as a children’s drawing. Fierce Deity gives off those vibes, like “he has a HUGE SWORD that SHOOTS BEAMS OF LIGHT and he’s 8 FOOT TALL and CAN KILL ENEMIES IN A SINGLE BLOW!!” Before the final battle on the moon, when Majora gives you the mask, he childishly asks if you want to play a game of good guys and bad guys. And the good guy always wins, no matter what. Fierce Deity makes the final boss a cakewalk, but its supposed to.

Evidence 6: Anju and Kafei. Short one, because it falls a lot into everything else I’ve said regarding childhood vs adulthood. Kafei is effectively a switcheroo of what happened to Link in OOT. An adult shrunk back to childhood, uncomfortable in his new body and looking for a way to fix everything. He’s a reflection of how Link now kinda feels like an adult in a child’s body, because he had started to be used to being called an adult.

Evidence 7: The Moon. I haven’t super touched on the main meat of the game yet, so here it is. The moon and the 3 day mechanic is an allegory for constant mounting pressure, that builds and builds, never ceasing, because the world is in danger, and there’s only one person who has been chosen to save it. I’ve always been interested in the Chosen One narrative, and how different media explore the idea of the world’s very existence being pushed onto one person. How at the end of it all, they can never be the same again after all they’ve gone through. When you’re somehow expected to hold up the Moon itself single-handed, and your life and everything you care about suffers because you’re putting everyone else before yourself. That feeling of complete loneliness under a crushing weight, and although other characters may come to help you, in the end its still all down to you, and you never had a choice in any of it, as all the decisions were made by someone else. You must do what they tell you. Believe in yourself, believe...

Evidence 8: Skull Kid. The story goes that long ago in Termina, the Skull Kid and the Giants played together, until one day, the Giants left, leaving the Skull Kid alone and heartbroken, with nobody to turn to. As life moves on, things may change, and people always come and go from your life. Your friend might move overseas, or stop texting you, or you might fall out of friendship after an awkward event from which you could never recover (no, these have totally not all happened to me, shut up i’m fine), or your fairy companion might just disappear without so much as a goodbye after their task is complete. And it feels like you didn’t matter at all. That they never really cared about you, and you’re as easy to drop and move on from as a child’s toy. You might get angry, and want to shut them out, and give them a taste of their own medicine. Majora’s Mask teaches you that this isn’t the case. Life is ever changing, but you will always have the memories of times with your friends, and a chance to make more with new friends, like a sassy talkative fairy sprite and her shy brother or a child made of wood who wants to destroy the world. Friends come from unlikely places, so accept that change will happen and hope that wherever the people you knew are, they’re okay. You’re thinking about them, so they might be thinking about you too. And who knows? Life is unpredictable. They might just come back one day, and it’ll be like they were never gone.

Evidence 9 (the final one, I promise): The Song of Healing. At the end of all things, after losing ones you love, connections to family and friends, memories of things long past... you need time to heal. Link’s journey through Termina is a constant gauntlet of running into his own past traumas, forced to relive them again, and again, and again. But sometimes you should take a deep breath, gather your thoughts, and take time to heal. Although it can be important to confront your fears and learn to surpass them, it is exhausting, and you can end up more emotionally broken than when you started. The three masks all had regrets of powerlessness; unable to protect your community, your loved ones, or even yourself. Troubles you’ve gone through that keep plaguing your mind, and you’re wondering if you’ve done enough, seeking answers where none can be found. And the best thing you can do... is accept and move on. Be kind to yourself, and give yourself time to heal. Link’s way of processing his grief and trauma is to create an entire hellscape world in his own head, but not everyone processes it the same way. Sometimes you feel like you need to busy yourself, or listen to soothing music, or talk to people you trust, or spend copious amounts of money, or make some angst art, or cuddle your plush toys until their stuffing squeezes out. Sometimes life hits you in the face and you want to blame yourself for standing in the firing line, but it’s not your fault. It’s okay to feel however you feel, whether you’re drenched in a pool of tears or you just feel numb, it’s okay and natural. You’re okay. You’re here.

Okay so it got kinda personal at the end there but I hope it was informative, and made you think a little bit differently about Majora’s Mask and Ocarina of Time. You probably want to go back and play them now. Me too.

So was this all just an excuse for me to gush about how cool Majora’s Mask is? Hell fucking yes it was. Congratulations for making it through my monstrous ramblings, you get the secret prize of looking at my weird art on my DA. Here you go. Have a nice day, Zelda Nerds.

#long post #legend of zelda #majoras mask #young link #fierce deity #zelda theory #wow i cant believe i never realised i wrote fuckig outset island instead of koholint im dumby af

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stars-a-n-d-scars · 4 years

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Mischief Managed.

Hey guys. So I know this story has been a bit of a mess with me posting it in parts, so I’ve decided to just put it all in one super-long post. Hope you like it!

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Part 1

“Are you ready?”

Sirius grinned at James’ question, his grey eyes sparkling.

It was the last day. The last day they would ever spend as Hogwarts students. Graduation was over and done with, and the after-party had lasted a week and a half (in true Gryffindor fashion). Everyone had been suspended in a constant state of elation and bliss. Drinking, dancing and singing ‘till their voices were sore. But when the alcohol dried up and the music faded, they were back where they’d always been. Sirius, Remus, Peter and James, each sitting on their four-poster bed in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory. Oh, the times they’d had in this room. The years and years of spin the bottle, raucous laughter and drunken dancing spent with friends. The mental breakdowns, whispered comforts and hushed confessions.

Sirius looked around at the people beside him.

James, with his crooked glasses and messy hair. His brother. His hilarious, insane, loving (if not slightly tactless) brother. Sirius still remembered the moment they met. The black haired boy had just stepped through the barrier to platform 9 and 3/4 on the 1st of September his first year, when he bumped straight into James and sent his belongings flying everywhere. They’d both apologized, bending down hastily to pick up the items that were now strewn in the thoroughfare. Unfortunately, an occurrence of the same idea in both the boys’ minds at the exact same time led to a bumping of heads, that in turn led to both of them lying flat on the ground having made more of a mess than there was before. James and Sirius avoided each other for a second, both extremely embarrassed, but then they locked eyes and an uncontrollable fit of laughter overtook the both of them. This ended up with the two first years rolling around on the platform in hysterics yet again, completely oblivious to the judgmental looks they were receiving from other station-goers (and a particularly green set of rolled eyes from a pretty little red-haired witch). And from that moment on, James Potter and Sirius Black were inseparable.

A crunch brought Sirius out of his reverie. The source of the noise was, of course, Peter. That tiny little fellow who’d always been the most reliable of all the friends. He would never break a promise, that was for sure. Wherever his loyalties lay was where they would stay. The hundreds of pickles he’d gotten them out of with an early warning fro his designated position as the map-watcher (as the most attentive and observant of the four, it always made sense for Peter to be on lookout as the others got up to their usual antics) or with a particularly convincing dizzy spell. The fact that he was constantly hungry made him even more endearing, Sirius thought. He couldn’t help but be filled with pride and joy for his friend, when he looked at the man that mousy little first year boy he met on the train had become.

Finally, Sirius’ gaze landed on Remus. 7 years. 7 years and that boy never failed to make his heart skip a beat. He raised his amber eyes to meet Sirius’, and a gentle smile spread across his face. To the untrained eye, it would seem like an innocent grin of bliss. But Sirius knew his boyfriend too well to be fooled. It was a smile of sadness. Hogwarts was the only place Remus had ever felt accepted, had ever felt at home. And now they were leaving. Leaving the astronomy tower, where they’d had their first kiss, leaving the charms corridor where they’d pulled their first prank, leaving the Great Hall where they’d come out together. But Sirius knew that no matter where they were, those moments would always be with them. Even if a million miles separated them, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black would always have that.

As his eyes were drawn to where Remus was fiddling with the edge of his enormous sweater (which, by the way, Sirius had totally never stolen to sleep with when he was feeling lonely), he just couldn’t stop himself from standing up and planting a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. Then, sliding his hand into the other boy - no, man’s, he stood to face James and his question.

“Ready as I’ll ever be”, he replied.

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Part 2

The four boys stood outside Filch’s office. They had spent weeks discussing whether or not to do what they were about to do, but they knew it was right. Filch was busy helping the house-elves move the trunks onto the Hogwarts Express, so they knew they had his office to themselves for at least another hour.

“Alohomora.”

Together, the Marauders took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The room was as it always had been. Shackles on the wall from Filch’s days as a torturer, filing cabinets against the wall. A single framed picture of Mrs Norris sat on his desk next to a vase of dried up flowers and a small vial of what looked suspiciously like veritaserum.

The four Gryffindors had probably spent more time in this office over the years than any of their classes combined (although Remus had always managed to get away with things that the others never could). Sirius’ mind was suddenly flooded with memories so vibrant that, for a second, he thought he might have time travelled.

It was 1st year. Remus, James, Peter and Sirius had just finished their first Charms class and were stowing their books in their bags and chatting about how they think they went when the distinct noise of a cleared throat interrupted their discussion. “Boys, I’m afraid I’m going to have to hurry to lunch before they run out of ham sandwiches. If you could please lock up the classroom when you leave, I would appreciate it.” That was Flitwick’s first mistake. His second was mistaking the identical grins on Sirius and James’ faces for ones of consent rather than mischief. The second he left the room, the boys began plotting.

“I say we put itching powder in his hat,” James suggested, but that idea was quickly shot down by several choruses of “I guess…”, “It’s a little unoriginal” and, of course, “BORING” (you can guess which one was Sirius). The next idea they generated involved a large number of items that were both unobtainable at that moment and probably highly illegal, so that one was dismissed too. However, as they say, this time’s a charm. Peter went and stood outside the door to signal in case anyone turned up, and James and Sirius got to work on the textbooks in the cupboard. Soon enough, each and every one had been transfigured into copies of “9 foolproof ways to a witch’s heart” (although they still looked like The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1 on the outside). Thank Merlin for McGonagall’s belief that they should start with the hard stuff and work backwards. Meanwhile, Remus had set to work on the chalk. After a solid 10 minutes of experimenting, he managed to make it so that it would only write out phrases like “Happy wife, happy life” and “Actions speak louder than words”. It would also produce a pink love heart-shaped bubble with every word written. Satisfied with their handiwork, the boys moved to leave just as Peter poked his head around the door to tell them that lunch was almost over. Another 5 minutes spent waiting outside the Charms classroom and they were starting to regret their decision to skip eating, because they were all starving. Peter even swore to always carry a snack with him from then on. But their regret was banished the second they heard the first signs of laughter emanating from inside the classroom. A few more minutes of chuckling passed and the boys congratulated each other on a prank well done, but perhaps a little too soon. Slowly but surely, the laughter died out and turned to yells as students started piling out of the door. Confused, Sirius turned to Remus for an explanation, and was met with a look of horror.

“There is a slight chance those bubbles won’t pop,” was all he needed to say. The rest was understood when the last student out of the door was followed by a tidal wave on bouncing pink hearts. The boys looked at each other in silence for a second, before they all burst out laughing. They laughed ‘till their sides split and they couldn’t breathe. And then, a sharp voice brought them out of their hilarity with a snap.

“I suppose this was your doing?” Minerva McGonagall asked, a sceptical look on her face. The boys tried to deny any involvement, but soon enough learned that it was really quite tricky too keep a poker face when you have Minerva McGonagall staring you down. After they admitted responsibility, she sighed and shook her head. “Detention. You’ll be at my office at 5 o’clock tonight or there will be consequences.” And then she did something unexpected. She smiled. “You boys really are quite the marauders, aren’t you?” She chuckled and then turned on her heel and walked off.

“Marauders. I like that,” said James. And the rest is history.

Sirius pulled himself back to the present, if unwillingly. Things were different now. They weren’t those kids anymore. There was a war on, and they were about to become a part of it. The realisation of just what they were leaving behind hit Sirius even harder when Remus reached into his pocket and put the Marauder’s Map on the table. Sirius knew they had all agreed it was the right thing to do, but that didn’t make it any easier.

He turned away as he heard Remus muttering over the map in Latin. After about 5 minutes, Remus stood up and announced he was done.

“What exactly did you do?” Peter asked, his mouth full as ever.

“Well, remember when I got you guys to cast spells on the map when we were making it so that it would insult anyone who tried to open it incorrectly in ways that we would? It was a spell like the one that the founders used on the Sorting Hat. They copied parts of their personalities into the object so that it would know what they would have wanted. I’ve just extended the spell a bit, so that the map will hide itself right here on Filch’s desk until it’s approached by someone who it thinks we would deem worthy to be the next Marauder”, Remus answered.

“You’re a fucking genius, you know, that right?” Sirius breathed, kissing his boyfriend.

“I know”, came the reply.

“Wait – but won’t Filch be able to feel it, even if he can’t see it?” asked James.

“No. Unless whoever is touching it is someone we think is fit to carry on our legacy, it won’t exist.”

The boys stood in silence for a minute. This was it. 7 years of education, pranks and friendship, all poured into that old piece of parchment. Finally, Sirius broke the silence.

“So what do we do to activate the spell?”

Remus smiled that sad smile again. “Its simple. We just need to tap the parchment and say ‘Mischief Managed’”.

A sudden exclamation came from James. “Oh, that’s fucking fine! I didn’t need my heart anyway. What’re you trying to do to me Lupin?”

They laughed. And then they stepped forwards and placed their wands on the parchment.

Together the Marauders opened their mouths and said, for the last time “Mischief Managed”.

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Epilogue

Remus, Sirius, Peter and James walked out to join the others at the Hogwarts Express. Everyone was waiting around to board, and the 7th year Gryffindors were standing near the back, surveying the scene. The marauders joined their friends and stood facing their future.

As the sun set, eight silhouettes were framed against the darkening sky.

James, with his arm around Lily, watching the reflection of the sky in her eyes.

Peter, deep in discussion with Mary about the war.

Marlene, crying silently into her girlfriend Dorcas’ shoulder.

And Remus, his arm around Sirius’ shoulder.

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The Marauders was always more than just the four Gryffindor boys of the 70s. They were all Marauders. And, in the end, so were we.

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Guys, I really hope you liked this! Personally I loved writing it, it started as an idea that Filch never took the map they planted it for the next generation to find and turned into this huge 2000 word story. I guess words fly when you’re writing (if that makes any sense).

Anyway, have a wonderful day and I wish you all good things!

- Mia 💜

#marauders #jily #wolfstar #maraudersera #marauderfanfic #marauderserafanfic #marauders fanfictoin #marauderserafanfiction #siriusblack #remuslupin #peterpettigrew #jamespotter

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thegeminisage · 4 years

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the south is like another country

i have an entire essay on how the current radicalism and steep political divide in this country can be traced directly back to the civil war - rural white southerners here playing the part pre-ww2 germany, the part of a resentful, conquered nation assimilated into the nation that conquered them, because if you think about it the south/the confederacy WAS its own nation for a time, that lost a very bloody war, and paid very steeply for it (not that slavers didn’t deserve every bit of misery the “carpetbaggers” threw at them), and the bitterness from that loss/the lost capital from having their slaves freed has been handed down through the generations, to people who now live in abject poverty while their livelihoods are destroyed by late stage capitalism, and their schools are so broke a lot of people here don’t even know how to read, and their towns are eaten alive with meth, and they’re still looked down upon by most of the country for being racist uneducated backwater hicks (to be clear, we should always look down on racism and racists, but it’s not making them any less bitter/ripe for being drawn into the cult of tr*mp’s america and f*cism).

but anyway this post isn’t about that! this post is about how when i go up north and i say “y’all it really is like i’m living in a different country” NOBODY BELIEVES ME. we speak the same language, we’re all americans, right? PFFFFFT. this amazon van thing just drives it home (pun intended). here’s a list of differences from the deep south* to the rest of the country*:

*the deep south here meaning the RURAL deep south. sorry to everyone who lives in cities/the suburbs and/or in border states like maryland and virginia. i’ve been to maryland and virginia and they are technically southern and some of this applies to them but it is not quite as extreme as it is here. the rest of the country includes the other states i’ve been to (california, washington state, new york, etc), which are in mostly every area except the midwest. i cannot personally vouch for the midwest. sorry, midwesterners! rural midwest probably has a lot of things in common with the deep south because rural life is different and also how easily people move around this country, but whatever

this is a long-ass post get ready

difference #1: DRIVING. driving & pedestrians are entirely different un rural areas vs urban areas. for starters, southern towns often do not even have sidewalks. this is because of 1. budget and 2. racism.

budget: rural towns are very spread out, and it costs major $$$ to put sidewalks in. it’s just not worth the trouble, financially, to put a sidewalk where only 12 people are ever going to use it, AND spend the money to maintain it. never gonna happen. racism: initially, suburbs especially in the south were seen as safe havens where people could get away from the stress of living in “urban” (re: integrated) areas. that the neighborhoods were only accessible by car and NOT by people who were too poor (black) to afford automobiles were just an added bonus.

as such, the first time i left the southeast, i was SHOCKED to see people walking and biking WITH (or indifferent to) the flow of traffic. down here we are taught that if you are walking along the road (or biking, because bikers get lumped in with pedestrians down here), it is very very very crucial that you walk against the flow of traffic, because you cannot expect drivers to see you and not mow you down. the onus is on YOU to get out of THEIR way. additionally, walking in knee-high grass along the side of the road sucks, and because there aren’t many people here, the roads are usually totally empty. so oftentimes pedestrians just straight up walk ON the road. and if you do that you absolutely have to be able to see a car coming from a long way away, because rural drivers on completely empty roads tend to take them at extremely high speeds just for fun. the people who live diagonally across from me have had to replace their mailbox four times because folks take that blind curve at 90mph. i had a cat get hit by a car on that road. (they all live indoors now.) i even witnessed a car accident happen there when i was just outside minding my own business. ever see a tire fly 12 feet into the air and come down into someone’s windshield? that’s what happens when you hit power line pole driving like that.

the first time i ever encountered one of those pedestrian crossing buttons was in california in the early 2010s. i had literally never seen one before because we simply don’t have them here. they’re not very self-explanatory if you have been jaywalking your whole entire life because all you’re taught to do is look both ways and make sure the street is empty before you cross. northern/urban roadways are made so that pedestrians and drivers can both get to where they’re going. in rural/southern areas pedestrians might as well not bother.

interestingly, while not an entirely southern problem, there’s a loose correlation between rural areas and more problems with drunk drivers.

on the driving side, driving in a city is batshit insane. it’s both faster and slower. there is NO space and you’re expected to go whenever you have so much as an inch to worm your way in. there’s more traffic, and the traffic totally dictates your speed. in the south you can change lanes if you want to drive faster or slower and weave around traffic or let it weave around you, but in a city there’s no other lane to change to and if you don’t drive at the speed of the people ahead of and behind you you will die. you turn fast, you brake fast, etc. whenever i come back from driving in a city the people who ride with me think i’m insane. you don’t PULL ONTO A ROAD if you can SEE ANOTHER CAR THERE, what the fuck? meanwhile i’m like “lol that is six miles of space i have plenty of time” and give everyone in my vicinity heart palpitations until i readjust.

tailgating in a rural area is something only assholes do (done by people on a two-lane road to encourage the person in front of them to go faster because the only other lane is for oncoming traffic), and if someone gets within one car length of me on a two-lane road i can very passively aggressively slow my vehicle to a crawl until they back the fuck off. in a city you’re lucky if you have a twelve inches between your bumper and the next car’s hood ornament.

difference #2: LANGUAGE. this is a small one, but the southern dialect combined with the lack of literacy means i am learning certain things late in life. phrases i have heard verbally with my ears but had never seen written out include: “chest of drawers” which i thought was “chester drawers” - “seven year itch” which i thought was “seven year each” - “albeit” which i thought was “i’ll be it.” i’ve made a deliberate effort to unlearn mine own accent/dialect but i run into weird shit all the time. remotes are mashers, shopping carts are buggies, you put stuff up instead of putting it away, i fix you a drink instead of pouring you one, we shoot the game instead of play it. my mom LITERALLY can’t understand me if i speak too quickly - she has to remind me all the time to slow down and put on my southern.

difference #3: TECHNOLOGY. issue of whether or not you personally have the creepy amazon vans aside, the rural south is behind the rest of the country on technology. things in cities are AUTOMATED. things like the little button you press to cross the street, tickets you take at parking garages, even the parking meters you find in cities, that’s just the beginning of it. one time i came across a little computer touch screen in a MCDONALDS where you put your order in. you didn’t even go up to the counter. you just put your order on the screen and swiped your card and then they got it ready for you and you never had to speak to a human person. self-checkouts, gas pumps where you can swipe your card and not go in and pay at first...the south got those YEARS behind everybody else. in the mid-2010s i went to DC and visited a target for maybe the 5th time ever and i was BAFFLED by the self-checkout. i had no idea how to use it! it was like less than ten years ago and i was IN MY TWENTIES and i had never seen one before! when we send a package we have to talk to a human person. when we order food we usually have to talk to a human person. apps for places like dominos and subway have not been in use here for very long. my county just got doordash LAST YEAR.

because i am 31, and because the south is so technologically behind, i am actually old enough to remember how when you used to go to a gas station an attendant would not only pump your gas but wash your windshield for you while you just SAT IN THE CAR. that seems like something from the 50s but it actually was a thing here in my childhood IN the 90s. i wish i was making this up.

difference #4: INFRASTRUCTURE. this sort of goes hand-in-hand w/ the last point because so much of our infrastructure is made of technology, and it’s also more of a rural/urban thing than a south/north thing. but just for fun here’s a non-exhaustive list of things i don’t have in my town:

starbucks* - the first time i went to a starbucks i was in my 20s

a public pool - we used to, but now the only pool here requires a YMCA membership. the only baseball diamond in this county is also at the Y.

walmart

in fact, ANYWHERE to buy clothes that is not a goodwill or other secondhand store. i cannot buy clothing unless i order it online or LEAVE MY TOWN. almost all of the clothing i own is from walmart because it’s one of the only places in my entire county where you can actually PURCHASE clothing.

grocery store chains? pffft. my town has two entire stores and both are small southern chains. i didn’t go into a publix for the first time until two years ago when i went to florida. i’ve NEVER entered a whole foods.

food delivery? yeah, no. like i said, we got doordash last year, but before that the only place you could get delivery from was a pizza chain. we only have two pizza places in my town that deliver, and one is a local place, not attached to any chain, so i can’t spend my loyalty points there. (it’s very expensive there too.) last year it was CLOSED for six months because the manager got caught dealing meth. every last one of the delivery drivers was trafficking it for him. they all got fired and had to restart from the ground up. for that short time, it was not possible to get any food delivered to your house whatsoever.

a hospital/ambulance services - if someone is sick, we have to take them to the hospital in laurens, the town next door (about 15-20 minutes by car). the town i live in lucky - we have our own police and fire departments. (acab but you know what i mean.) joanna is a smaller town next to mine that isn’t a real town - it’s been demoted to a census designated area because only 2000 people live there. if they have an emergency, they have to use OUR fire and police departments, and LAURENS’s ambulance/hospital system

after-school places kids can go to keep from getting into trouble. we have the Y, if you have money (no one here has money), and we have churches, but mostly schools can’t afford to run too many extracurriculars. there’s nothing to do here but church and meth.

food banks: zero. we have food DRIVES sometimes where people will come from further away and bring free food, but if you’re hungry, there’s nowhere you can go for help - you have to wait for help to come to you.

libraries: we don’t have our own library. we have a branch of the county library that’s physically located in our town. but we share books with the rest of the entire county, so everything is always checked out or at the other branch.

*we technically have a starbucks that’s in the local college campus, but only college students are allowed to be there. they’ll still serve people without a college ID because no one gives a fuck, but you can’t linger and loiter and hang out like you do in a normal starbucks. we also have one in the barnes and noble in greenville, which is about an hour away by car, but again, it’s a mini starbucks that serves a limited menu and none of that weird Starbucks Culture™

here’s a few things i don’t have in my ENTIRE COUNTY:

movie theaters - technically. we have a Historial™ one-screen theater in laurens that shows one movie for two weeks a month after it hits regular theaters and then switches to another, and if you miss it, too bad. this is a VERY recent addition - it wasn’t restores until i was in my 20s as a kid and a teenager i had to ride in a car an hour or more to go to the movies.

target. only commies and yankees have target. down here we do walmart.

malls

arcades

skate parks/skating rinks

bowling

museums

zoos/aquariums

campgrounds

fairs. our county fairground got razed a decade ago because there just werent enough people showing up to justify the expense. so no more fairs. you have to have people to fund things and down here there just aren’t enough people anywhere.

you get the idea. we don’t have entertainment. like i said, nothing to do but church and meth.

CLASSES FOR STUFF: knitting classes, dancing classes, driving classes? nope. gymnastics, karate dojos, golf, knitting groups, books clubs, cooking classes? [GAMESHOW BUZZER]. you can’t even hire a clown for a birthday party out here. we do have a shooting range. ONE. in the entire county. and a race track. and a rather infamous former kkk memorabilia store. they made a movie about that (serious tw for this trailer - they’ve got white hoods, burning crosses, pepper spray, the whole nine), which, yes, takes place in laurens, aka right next door to me. i used to walk by that place all the time when i was playing pokemon go. haven’t seen the movie but the shooting locations in the trailer make laurens look a lot bigger and prettier than it really is in real life - especially the racetrack, which, in the trailer, is actually PAVED. (this is inaccurate to real life.)

EDUCATION: lots of people can’t read. we have two schools for illiterate adults, one religious college, and one branch of one of the state colleges that has a skeleton staff and a fuck ton of computers (you basically just go there to distance learn/e-learn - if you want to take real classes from this college, you have to drive at least an hour.)

support groups/group therapy: almost none. we have al-anon and weight watchers, but that’s about it. there’s only half a dozen therapists in my entire county, and none that operate from my town. mental healthcare down here is bullshit.

on food: we don’t have many sit-down restaurants, where servers bring you your menu and your food. if you don’t count waffle houses, my town has 4. my county has 9. in and out, 5 guys, applebees, ruby tuesday, red lobster, olive garden, panda epxress? forget it. those places were and still are rare treats. i’ve only been to an olive garden twice. red lobster once. whenever i leave my county i BEG for chinese because there’s only two chinese restaurants in our entire county and one of them is crazy expensive and the other one sucks.

we also don’t have the more important stores you need to like, live. if we need to exchange our router at a charter store? yeah, we don’t have one. need to visit the sprint store to get your phone repaired? nuh-uh, we don’t have any phone stores either. my family recently switched to at&t because it was the only company that had a physical location in our county. before that, we had to drive an hour for even the smallest repair.

on a grimer note: we don’t have homeless shelters! homeless in laurens county? too bad for you. we do have homeless PEOPLE. they just have nowhere to go except the churches

hospitals? only kind of. like i said, our county has one, but it’s not equipped to take seriously sick people. when my mom had a heart attack she had to be driven straight to greenwood, which is 45 minutes away if you’re not in an ambulance. they obviously made it faster than that, but still. that was scary. it took them a long time to get here. i had a distant relative of mine die before the ambulance made it because they were SO far out in the sticks, even further than me.

we also don’t have any specialty stores. sporting goods, gamestops, shoe stores, florists, craft stores, bookstores, best buys...forget it. if you can’t buy it at walmart, you just can’t buy it. the exceptions: my TOWN has one jewelry store, two hardware stores, and two auto repair stores. my COUNTY has three clothing stores, none of which are in my town, one place that sells used TVs, and one movie rental place. thrilling, right? i can rent a movie if i drive out of town. (i know streaming killed the rental business, but we also only had two places when i was a kid, if you counted the rental section in the grocery store.)

so, yeah. i know the term “shithole” is really loaded these days, but rural areas are just plain less developed, and often in seriously poor repair because nobody fucking uses them. there USED to be more stuff here - my mom was on a bowling league, and as a kid i had a birthday party at a skating rink - but late stage capitalism and drugs destroyed it all. people ran out of money to do things like skate and bowl and so those places closed. the south is full of empty store fronts and deserted strip malls slowly being eaten by kudzu. my brother got out of this town and whenever he winds up back here (not often) he remarks on how completely and utterly dead everything feels. “my friends who live in greenwood now think they’re all rural,” he said once. “they complain constantly about how remote it is. but they have no idea. they wouldn’t make it five minutes out here.” greenwood has its own movie theater, mall, starbucks, homeless shelter, food bank, and hospital.

so, yeah! if you were wondering what rural white southerners are so fucking mad about, that’s part of it. propaganda and xenophobia and racism has their anger directed ENTIRELY at the wrong people, but it’s hard to argue that the anger itself isn’t just a little bit justified.

difference #5: CULTURE. specifically culture around food, and the culture around the civil war. i could write an entire other essay about the culture of the church being everything because the church IS the only semblance of infrastructure we have and this is why the south is so homophobic, but we’ll skip that for now.

food: this is a quickie, because i sort of touched on it already, but there are like, almost NO vegetarian options here. there’s very limited choices of cuisine. it’s ALL waffle house and soul food. we have a lot of mexican places because we’re physically close to the mexican border, but aside from that, forget finding like indian or thai or japanese or anything like that. no sushi. forget finding a menu that has meals that are halal or kosher. there’s just. no culture here. no variety. you know? like i said, our entire county doesn’t even hit double-digits for proper sit-down restaurants.

civil war: i’m not going to go into the big stuff since i sort of covered it at the top and also this post is getting way too long, but to other white rural southerners there is legitimate baggage around the fact that my mom married a yankee and that i am half-yankee. and he’s not even a real yankee! he was born up north but raised in southern florida. (florida is weird. the further south you go geographically, the less southern you are culturally.) yet: my family makes jokes that are sometimes not jokes about this. when i drop this information in casual conversation people get that look on their faces like: ah, that explains it. it being that i am not religious and don’t laugh at racist jokes and maybe i am queer?? (strangers tend to be unsure about this last part, even when i’m wearing rainbows.) it’s because i’m half-yank! that explains everything! the xenophobia is SO strong here that white people are even xenophobic at OTHER WHITE PEOPLE.

so in conclusion when i say the north is like another country, it’s because the people who raised me think of it like another country. and culturally! it is buck wild! the differences that there are! when i leave this town i feel like i step into fucking star trek! if you are not from the rural south, and you have never been to the rural south, please do not come here! i’ve been to a few different places now and this is definitely my least favorite one.

#personal #i guess #it's ok to rb if you want to though??? tbh i don't think most people will even get to the end lol #anyway here's my college lecture about the south it's not very good or college level actually lmao #this is AIRQUOTE FIELD STUDY AIRQUOTE #the experiences u have as a half-yank white person in the rural south are crazy #bc other white people think you're okay to listen to them say what they REALLY think #and then backtrack rapidly when they realize you aren't #now that i'm grown and woke i can't believe half-yankee is even a thing.#anyway this post brought to you by the maddening realization of how technologically far behind we are #WE DON'T EVEN HAVE THE CREEPY AMAZON VANS #the automated package sending...what i wouldn't give not to have to talk to people to mail stuff #rip. :/

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screensirenfic · 4 years

Text

Menthol Cigarettes - Chapter 4

I managed to get my mind off of Steve’s kicked puppy expression somewhere between the ride from Starcourt and the junction at Elm and Maple.

The boy had a habit of guilt tripping that always put a downer on my mood, and I really had to quit dropping in just before I went on dates, but really; I expected him to be more mature about this!

I mean; I know it was Billy Hargrove, and Steve fucking hated his guts long before he kicked his ass back at the Byers, but wasn’t it time he got over it?

Billy was at least trying.

Him and Steve would never be friends, but at least he understood that me and Steve were kind of a package deal, and if he wanted to see me on romantic terms, he at least had to tolerate the noble idiot.

Steve wouldn’t even try that; too busy reminding me that Billy was a total psychopath and was just one bad day away from completely losing it and blowing us all to hell.

It was almost as if he forgot that the exact same rumours were circulating about me just last year after I’d saved his ass from Tommy H; but like they say, time can make happy memories out of the darkest of days.

Still; I’d appreciate it if he stopped badgering me about dating a psycho every time I went for an ice cream; it was almost enough to make you switch to fro yo-

Fuck; there goes the power again!

Hawkins had been getting these short periods of blackouts for the best of a month.

Dad said it was probably from some dodgy deal Mayor Klein had colluded with the energy company that lowered electricity bills at the expense of performance, and considering the election was only a few days away, he probably was right.

Still; it made driving at night a bitch considering my only source of light now was the shit poor headlamp on the front of my Triumph.

I could pull over and wait for the power to come back on, but god knows how long that’d be, so instead I just slowed down a bit; hoping above all hope that none of the fair trucks had the same idea in the opposite direction.

When I arrived outside number 4819, the power still hadn’t come back on; the outside of the place looking more like a set from a suburban slasher movie in the limited moonlight.

It probably should’ve completely flipped my stomach, considering what I’d come here for, but part of it made me more excited; like everything was just gonna add to the atmosphere.

I turned off my bike’s engine, submerging myself in near complete darkness, and strode up the porch to the front door, pressing the bell.

It was out, but I should’ve expected it with the power cut, so instead I knocked firmly three times.

Part of me had been expecting for him to be stood just on the other side of the door, waiting for the opportunity to pull me in unawares and kiss me until I was breathless.

It wouldn’t be the first time, and just the thought of it made my heart beat faster; fingers twitching with nervous energy, because it didn’t matter how many times we did this, I got an adrenaline rush every time.

But still; there was no answer, and I tried not to let my mind jump to conclusions; already getting flashbacks to the day we reconnected, those dark bruises that covered his skin, all that blood-

No. He’d be okay. He was just in the shower or something... in the complete dark.

I knocked again, glancing over my shoulder to note the Camaro parked out front and the complete lack of any other cars at all.

Maybe I’d gotten it wrong.

He said his parents would be out, but it still looked like he was in; not that Billy went many places besides work without me.

It drove Steve to despair, but it wasn’t my fault he didn’t like him, and Billy so liked having someone who genuinely cared about him at his side.

“Billy?” I called out, deciding fuck it and drumming on the door, because his dad clearly wasn’t home and I was getting worried.

“Billy; it’s me, Lola!” I continued; trying not to bite my lip as my mind conspired all the terrible things that could’ve happened to him, all the places he could be.

I could feel my heart thundering in my chest; fear overtaking excitement as I tried not to picture him blacked out on his bedroom floor, blood clotted in his pretty blonde hair as he struggled to breathe through a litany of bruises.

Billy’s dad beat him less of late, but when he did, it was enough to bring me to tears.

I’d had to take him to the ER twice since February; once for a broken wrist, the next time for a set of stitches from a plate he smashed against the underside of his jaw.

We had to feed the doctors some bullshit excuse about him falling off the back of my bike when we were fucking around, because Billy refused to tell anyone but me the truth.

It broke my heart every time I came to see him with a new shiner or bloody lip, watching my boyfriend be reduced to a human punchbag, but when I tried to suggest we speak to my dad about it again; he just got mad at me and told me I wasn’t listening.

I just wanted him to be safe.

That’s part of the reason I convinced him to get a job at the pool.

It would be hard for his dad to try and hide his abuse when the whole town could see it painted on Billy’s skin.

That, and the fact Billy was saving to move back to California in a couple of years.

He wanted me to come with him, but that was an entirely different discussion that I really didn’t need to think about just yet, not when there was a good chance we were a paramedic call away from an emergency right now.

It had only been five minutes, but already that was too long for my frayed nerves, so I decided to try around the back.

Maybe someone left a window open or something.

Hell; maybe I’d be lucky and they forgot to lock the backdoor!

I circled to the back of the house, eyeing up all the windows that were locked up tight as expected.

Billy’s folks didn’t fuck around when it came to security, though whether that was out of common sense or a desire to control their kids remained to be seen.

I eventually reached Billy’s room and could see he left his window open a crack, probably in case his dad came home early and he needed to sneak me out fast.

It would be a tight squeeze, but I’m sure I could jimmy it open a bit more and fit through.

I made to scale the wall of the house, wishing not for the first time that I was a few inches taller so I could actually reach the sill, even if only on my tippietoes.

Instead I had to use the wood siding as a makeshift stepladder to climb up.

After that; it was a simple job of wriggling through the gap; something easier said than done considering my ass kept getting stuck.

Still; I persisted, and with one final pull, I found myself face down on the stained carpet of Billy Hargrove’s bedroom.

It was darker in here than it even was outside with no moonlight to guide me, but even in the dark; I could tell Billy wasn’t here, and maybe that was a good sign.

I pushed myself up to my hands and knees, bracing myself to get up on my feet, when a firm hand pressed tight over my mouth.

“Don’t move.”

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