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hotchley · 3 years

Text

the date

Surprise! I’m on holiday now so I’m using the time to try and get some of my WIPs finished. This and yesterdays were the most done, so don’t expect too much from the next two weeks because I also do need to start doing my work.

The temptation to post a spoiler was almost overwhelming, but I refrained so now you get to read the whole mess in one go! Also, funny story, this had been sitting in my drafts since last year and I only just got around to finish it.

There is a happy, alternate ending. Let me know if you want to see it!

Trigger Warnings: references to child abuse and domestic violence, both characters have low self-esteem and negative perceptions of themselves

read on ao3!

It's too early for anyone else to be there. The entire BAU is on leave- and given how often that was interrupted, it makes sense for everyone to be enjoying it whilst it lasts, but it still shocks her to see the entire sixth floor empty.

Apart from one person.

Hotch is sitting behind his desk, dressed casually. It's strange to see him there, frowning over paperwork, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a fuzzy jumper. It makes him look younger. more like Jack’s dad than Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner and it tugs at something in Emily's heart.

She pushes the feeling away. That isn’t why she's here. It doesn’t matter that she is the only one- aside from Dave- that knows the way he rubs his thumb against his other fingers is a way to soothe himself, not an indication that he's lying. It doesn't matter that she knows what his tell is, or that the smile that had spread across his face when she told him it was a date made her heart flutter. It's irrelevant that he’d pulled her closer when they were dancing as though he was trying to convince himself she was real.

She's leaving. And he's with Beth. Beth, who she had only spoken to for a few minutes but had immediately loved. She is everything Hotch needs after the darkness of the past two years. And Emily can't resent her. Not for falling in love with Hotch and certainly not because he loves her back.

He isn't hers. Maybe he would've been. In a different life where his torso isn't a mess of scars left by the same serial killer that had put his wife in the ground, and her darkness was something that didn't stop her from loving others or cause fear, they would've been beautiful. A peaceful garden that made people smile and realise that there was still hope and a reason to carry on.

But it isn't a different life. They live in a world where you can't keep a photo of your loved one in your wallet in case it fell into the wrong hands, and where the phone ringing did not provoke an eye roll at the latest scam, but a cold dread that someone else they loved is dead or gone. They live in a world where she taints everything she touches- apart from him because he has always been darkness and what she doesn't understand was that her touch made flowers blossom where only weeds had ever lived in his ribcage- and a world where he cannot handle his own humanity.

She hasn't knocked before walking into his office since that case in Milwaukee, all those years ago. She thinks of the woman she had been then, but for once, it doesn't hurt. She is still that headstrong and fiesty agent, but she is also more open and trusting. Aaron had changed too. He'd gotten older and more tired. But he trusts her.

Enough that she doesn't need to knock before entering. It feels wrong though, to walk in unannounced. He would know immediately if she knocks that something is up, and she wants to cling to the feeling of home for a few more moments. She clears her throat instead. The smile that crosses her face when he looks up, slightly startled by her sudden appearance, was completely involuntary.

"Why are you doing paperwork?" she asks.

He sets it to the side, looking like a child that had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "It's only going to pile up, so I thought I would get a head start."

"You deserve to take a break too," she chastises.

He looks down. "I know. Would you like to sit?"

She nods, taking the seat in front of his desk. When she looks at him, it is almost painful. Five years ago, he had called her into his office to snap at her. And she had hated him for it. She knew he was only pretending to not know where she'd gone for college. So she took the knife in her back and plunged it into his heart when she said he didn't trust women as much as men, despite knowing that wasn't true.

He doesn't trust anyone. How could he, when the very people that were meant to love him and keep him safe from the dark were the same monsters that emerged as the sun went down?

But he had looked younger then. Less tired by life and living. And she had been more hopeful. Not naive. She had never been naive. None of them had been. They'd never been given the chance to experience that feeling. But she'd had hope that they could save everyone.

And he hadn't been able to take that from her, but he watched as she slowly lost it. And she watched as he told the team he loved them in a thousand different ways. And she wondered how anyone could ever call him cold. He wasn't cold. Hotch did what it took to protect the honour of the BAU, but Aaron did what it took to keep his family together.

At some point, they had stopped fighting each other and started to blur the lines between friendship and more.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" he asks.

She nods. "JJ deserves it. So does Will. Especially after everything that's happened."

Neither of them know what, but something happened when she was at the State Department.

"We all deserve that," he says, almost too quietly for her to hear. One set of words that she cannot say threaten to fall from her mouth.

"Beth is lovely," she says instead. "What does Jack think of her?"

He smiles at the mention of his son. "She's one of his favourite people."

"That's lovely," she says, wondering why it was so difficult to speak to him. There were only two times their conversations had been this stilted: once when he started working for her mother, and once when she first joined the unit.

There's a sudden silence, and she stares past him and at the books lining his shelves. All the ones that could be seen were law-related. What few people knew was that at the very bottom of the shelf, where his desk and chair would cover it, he has books for Jack.

It had thrown her, the first time she'd seen them. She couldn't reconcile the image of Hotch and the image of Aaron. Now the two were interchangeable. Not that she ever actually called him Aaron. He would call her Emily like her name meant everything, but she was a coward. Aaron was too personal.

She'd used his first name twice. Once after Haley's death, when she thought he would retire even though he would never be happy. Once after her own death, when she told him to burn in hell. She regretted that, even now, after forgiveness had been given.

"She deserves better than me. I know that. I think deep down, she knows that too but I just can't let her walk away from me, and I don't know why," he blurts out. Almost like he needed to say something, but everything else was either too personal or too neutral.

But she understands what he means. She always does.

"You need to convince yourself you can love someone without destroying them. You need a reason to look through case file after case file. You need to know that someone will be waiting when you come home, that this is not for nothing."

Aaron stares, and she swallows. It had been so long since she had been this vulnerable with him. Her bad day, when she had let herself feel after so long of not, felt like decades ago. And in some ways, it had been. She had bought and sold a house. He had crumbled and found love again.

"Emily, there is a reason for all of this. You just need to remember it. And some day, you will have someone waiting at home for you, I promise. Just give it time," he says.

She smiles as he says her name. Ian had tainted it. But Aaron says it like it was something precious and beautiful. What she didn't understand was that, to him, it was. It always had been. It always would be, no matter what.

But then the rest of his words register and her smile fades. He already knows she's leaving, had known since she returned that it was only a matter of time. Foolishly he had hoped it would be far, far into the future, when his own health issues forced him to retire. That would be kind though. And the world had never been kind to either of them.

She would walk away now, even though she didn't want to, because she could not stand the memory of the last time she had been in that office. And he would stay, even though he couldn't, because he would not let the team lose yet another person.

"You know why I'm here, don't you?" she asks, thinking about their conversation the previous night. How it had been perfect, but a cloud shaped like goodbye had been hanging over them throughout the night. She supposed that was what life was though.

It didn't make it hurt any less when Dave forced her into Aaron's arms. He had smiled, that soft and gentle one that transformed him from Unit Chief into the man that knew far too much for his age. That still longed for a childhood.

She hadn't wanted to talk about work, or her departure or even Beth. Instead, she whispered to him about the time he had spent working for her mother, and how even then, his suits didn't fit properly. He responded by talking about the evenings they had spent together watching old reruns of the comedies from her childhood.

And it was nice.

And again, she wonders if she was doing the right thing.

"I have my suspicion," he says, trying to keep his tone light. He doesn't want Emily to regret anything. He doesn't want to influence her decision. But in the back of his mind, she's just another person leaving him. And he wonders if he would ever be good enough for anyone, and then he hates himself for thinking that because this wasn't about him.

It is about Emily. And her need for a fresh start.

"You want me to say it, don't you?" she isn't accusing him. She just needs to be sure.

"Need," he corrects. "I need you to say it."

But it isn't out of spite. Or anger. He just needs to know it was her choice. That he has nothing to do with it. That she doesn't blame him anymore. That the thing that had been building between them before- before Doyle, before Foyet made him too afraid to feel anything- has not been destroyed.

"I'm resigning from the BAU and moving to London," she says. Saying it out loud, for the first time, to him of all the people, made the situation so much real.

She hadn't fully processed that she had accepted Clyde's offer. She knew for a while that she would be leaving, but now, the full impact of it hit her. There would be no more crushing hugs from Derek in private after the cases that destroyed them both. No more little toys from Penelope stuffed into her top drawer to make her smile.

No more Aaron seeking her out to ask her silly questions about foreign languages because Jack had expressed an interest in them. No more Aaron making sure she was fine by simply glancing in her direction. No more coffee on her desk after a difficult meeting that he would never confess to making, but which everyone knew was his doing.

No more phone calls too early in the morning begging for a story, a joke, anything, to distract from the memory he had of her in the hospital after Doyle.

No more them, messy and broken and damaged as they were.

He nods. The smile on his face is forced, and she can see him fighting back tears. He doesn’t want her to go. But he also knows that she needs to. She is doing what he had never been able to do: leave, before it all became too much and whatever life they still had left was permanently ruined.

“You’ll take them by storm. Just like you did here,” he says.

She smiles slightly, thinking back once more to her earliest days. “Only there won’t be someone accusing me of being a spy for their boss, which really did define those first few months.”

She meant it as a joke. She really should have known better. He always took these things too literally, so afraid of the teasing disguising a genuine anger that would only come out hours later when he had forgotten the transgression.

“Emily, I never apologised for my actions, but I need you to know-”

“You have apologised. I don’t need to hear the words to know how sorry you are. Also, it wasn’t really misplaced distrust was it?”

“Still. I am sorry. For everything.”

He isn’t just talking about those early days, she suddenly realises. He was talking about everything, from Milwaukee to Benjamin Cyrus to Ian Doyle. She longs to reach across and take his hand, rubbing her own fingers over the skin that he was always worrying, but that isn’t her job anymore.

It never had been. Even if she had wanted it to be.

“So am I,” she says. “I miss the man you were when I first joined,” she adds without thinking.

He frowns, the furrow so much like the look Jack had given her when she told him the previous night that one day, he would also be old like his dad and her. It hurt, to see how similar they were. Maybe it was because, where Hotch had always hated looking like his father, Jack would love it.

“Why?” he asks, voice slightly hoarse. He's afraid of her answer.

“You had more faith in people and their goodness. More hope for the future. I don’t blame you for changing. Still, it was a beautiful belief to witness and be a part of.”

“Haley always gave me a reason to believe in goodness,” he confesses, fiddling with the pen he had set down the moment she walked in.

“Perhaps Beth can give you some more,” she says, without a single hint of jealousy or anger. She has no right to either of those emotions. Women like her, women that only hurt the people they loved and who were harsh and cruel and rough around the edges did not get men like him.

Men like Aaron got soft and gentle women who saw nothing but the best in everyone. It was the only way that they could carry on doing their jobs. The only way any of them could carry on looking into the abyss without flinching was by having something that would be their solace. Something or someone untouched by the horrors of the day and evil of the night.

He has found his solace. She is still searching. Because he cannot be her solace anymore. It isn’t fair to either of them. She's not going to make him choose between loving her and loving Beth. She knows that people could love more than one person, but he already felt guilty for still loving Haley. After everything else she had put him through, she couldn't put him through the pain of knowing that she had always loved him, had always known just what his lingering stares meant, but had just never found the right time to say it all.

"When I said she deserves better than me, I didn't just mean because I'm broken."

"Aaron, you aren't-"

"Stop, let me- let me finish. I am. I have been for a while now. Maybe I was never whole to begin with. I meant that I'm in love with someone else. I thought I was over it, but I wasn't, and it was only when we started dating that I realised."

"Nobody can fault you for still loving Haley. She was torn from you in the most horrific way possible, and if you still love her, that's okay. Your heart has always been too big for just one person."

"I'm not talking about Haley," he whispers. "I'm talking about you."

"Aaron."

"I love you," he chokes out.

He can't. He can't love her. If he loves her, he will end up in a coffin, buried in the ground because she always kills the people that love her. If he loves her, the flowers in his heart that were finally blooming after Haley's death caused them all to wilt would be permanently destroyed.

He stares at her. She looks away. The look on his face is too real. Too much. If she looks at him, she would end up tearing up the resignation and phoning Clyde to say she couldn't do it. She believes that there was a universe in which she was strong enough to stay. A universe in which she was still beautiful.

But in the universe she lives in, she isn't. She is hardened by life and terrified of love. In the universe where Aaron only knows how to say I love you when everything else failes, who had only ever heard the words used out of fear, shouted by a desperate mother as her husband refused to have mercy, she has gone too long without speaking.

"Say something. Even if it's that you hate me and that I'm a terrible person. Or that I'm being cruel and unfair because I am. You're ready to leave and I shouldn't be ruining your fresh start like this but I just-"

"I love you too," she says.

His jaw drops. "Emily," he breathes.

"I- I love you. I don't know when it started or when I realised, but I love you. I have for a while. I just- I couldn't say anything."

"Why?"

The question catches her off-guard. "What?"

"Why do you love me?"

He's not searching for a compliment. He genuinely wants to know why she- with her beauty and strength and power and loyalty and kindness- could ever love him.

"For the same reason you hate yourself."

He laughs. "That's funny. In some twisted way, that's funny. I love you for the same reasons you hate yourself too."

She looks at him. Him, with his tired eyes and gentle smiles. With his twisted definition of love because nobody ever taught him what it really was. Who believed he had to be perfect, or else people would leave. Who led the team with such passion and loyalty because Haley's love terrified him, and it was easy to push her away. Him, who still does not know the difference between safety and happiness and who does not understand where kindness and love differ.

And she knows that she cannot do it. She is not strong enough to love him the way he needs. Maybe a few years ago. Maybe if this was a few years later. But time was a funny thing. It was always working against them.

"I love you," she repeats.

"You won't stay though, will you?" there is no anger in his voice. Just an acceptance she hates. He always accepts things far too easily.

"I can't."

"I know. It's okay. I don't want you to have any regrets. About anything."

He stands, and she follows almost immediately, her body still attuned to his movements. When he walks around to stand in front of her, she wonders if this is the climax of their story. If this is the final moment, where the tension peaks, and everything ends happily.

When he was a child, he pretended his life was like the films he never got to watch in order to escape the reality of it. He eventually accepted that life did not always come with closure and sometimes loose ends could not be tied up.

He holds out his hand for her. "Agent Prentiss. I wish you all the best in the future."

She refuses to take his hand. "You don't want me to have regrets?"

He drops his hand back down by his side. "Of course not Em. Of course not."

Without giving herself time to think, she closes the gap between them and stands on her tip-toes. He doesn't pull away, but his breathing goes uneven as it catches in his throat. He looks down at the ground, unable to meet her eyes.

There is so much about him she wants to learn. So much she wants to memorise but she doesn't have time. So she presses one soft and gentle kiss to his forehead, smiling through the sadness as he relaxes into the touch with a shaky exhale.

He doesn't move. He can't. And so she steps away, clearing her throat, wiping away the tear that threatens to fall.

"Goodbye Aaron," she says, his first name slipping out without her even realising she was saying it.

"You only ever call me Aaron when you're saying goodbye. I'm not sure whether it makes me hate or love my name more," he says.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry," she says instead. She doesn't want to think about the reasons he hates his name. Or the irony of it meaning exalted, when every single person that was meant to protect him failed.

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to look back and smile. And be proud of the lives you saved, the family you found. I want you to remember that you made me a better man. That you were right. I wasn't alone."

"None of us were. Will you come and visit me? Maybe help me get settled?"

It is selfish to ask, but she never claimed to be good. Aaron believes she is, but she knows she isn't.

"Of course I will," he promises. How can he not, when he blames himself for every single bad thing that had happened since she joined?

She gave him one final smile before closing the door behind her, ready to start a new life but still feeling like her heart had been torn from her chest. He watches her go, only falling to the ground to sob when the elevator doors close behind her one last time.

In the end, he does not visit. He gets as far as picking his seat, when he realises he cannot do it. He cannot see her. When he phones Derek, pleading for him to go instead, and to take Penelope so Emily cannot be angry, he doesn't even pretend to hide the fact that he has been crying.

Derek doesn't even hesitate. He just says he'll do it.

Emily hates Aaron for being too much of a coward to come and see her, even after he told her to not have any regrets. She hates herself more for not being able to see him when she hears about the emergency surgery. Saving JJ becomes her apology.

Still, it's not enough for her. Which is exactly why it's too much for him. Because even when they're stood across from each other, drinks in hand as they celebrate JJ's survival, they cannot be honest.

And then she leaves him again. He can't blame her.

He blames time. They never had enough. Or the right one.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #sad aaron hotchner #hotch angst #sad emily prentiss #emily angst #tw child abuse #tw negative self talk #sumayyah writes cm

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gretavanbitch · 3 years

Text

Tangled up in blue- 2

warnings- drugs lol

One month and six weeks prior-

Keeping herself busy when Josh was gone was no easy task for Penny. She tried her hardest to focus on work, sitting in front of rows of developed film, feeling burned out. There was no good reason for this feeling, simply that she was lonely. Sighing, she thought of the only thing to relax her and calm her mind without Josh, weed.

Her bare feet padded across the hardwood floors of their loft softly, overalls rustling slightly as she made her way to their bedroom. She walked to the brown cabinet next to her side of the bed and pulled out a small encrusted gold box. This box was opened probably too often when she was home without Josh, but also when he was there. She pulled out a filter, and papers. Then taking a bunch off the gram, she grinded it slowly, closing her eyes and wishing she was somewhere else. As her hands moved absentmindedly, she imagined what the boys were doing right now. They were probably on some tour bus or green room getting drunk, which sounds a lot more fun than getting high alone. She imagined Josh, sitting in some plush chair with some extravagant jumpsuit on, smiling and laughing with his friends, without her. She decided to shoot him a text, just some reassurance that he was still there.

Penny: Hey babe, Jake try to murder you yet?

Sent: 8:23pm

She sat, licking the joint closed and waiting eagerly for a reply from Josh. After five minutes, she decided that she would put on a record and smoke, just to pass the time. Joni Mitchell’s Blue started to reverberate off the walls of the apartment, causing her to smile softly to herself. She remembered back to the first road trip she took with Josh, playing this album over and over again until they reached the other side of the country. His hair would run wild with the windows down, and a smile never left his face that week. Snapping back to reality, she brought the joint to her lips and lit her lighter, inhaling deeply and falling back into the couch. After the record had run through both sides, she felt like she needed to do something with her day other than smoke and miss Josh.

Once again, the rows of film stood daunting before her. It was as if they were the royal guard for an impenetrable force in which her motivation was protected. With a hazy mind, she started flipping through the photographs of the recent week, smiling wider with each one. Your favorite was one that you took of Josh outside of a cabin in Washington. He stood away from the camera, but was smiling straight at it, teeth shining and bandana around his neck. That was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen, the purest form of natural beauty. Nothing like anything, ever. She also chuckled to herself as she flipped to one of Sammy biting Josh’s hand, and Jake posed dramatically against a boulder.

She loved the way that the light reflected with the camera lens, and the way that it interacted with the subject. Just as she was about to write down a title for the series, her phone buzzed on the table next to her, lighting up with a notification from Josh.

Josh: Hey mama, just got off stage, it went great. I wish you could've seen it. How did the film come out?

P.S, Jake has tried to stab me sixteen times already.

Sent: 12:34AM

Penny: It came out great, here see.

Attachment: 3 images

Sent 12:35AM

Josh: Beautiful, my love. You have a gift for manipulating the light, it's amazing. Can we talk or are you too tired?

Sent: 12:36AM

The thought of talking to Josh without seeing his face and expressions change with each word, caused her chest to hurt with want. So instead, she clicked the Facetime button rather than call.

Her phone vibrated for a few seconds, panging in her ear loudly. Yet within the blink of an eye, she was greeted with her favorite pair of brown eyes staring onto the screen in front of him. She smiled, and floofed her hair to make sure it didn’t look too trash.

“Hey pretty lady,” he smiled at her. Josh was laying on his back on a bed, presumably on the tour bus. He was lacking in a shirt, but the beads that always decorated his neck hung down past his chest. His hand was stretched above his head, and the phone was angled up from his stomach.

“Hey pretty boy,” she responded, positioning the phone in a more comfortable position on the couch, “watcha up to rockstar?”

“you know the usual, living the life, but I really really really wish you were here, everybody does.” His eyes blinked slowly, showing signs of tiredness, but he would never reveal that to you right now, your time was too precious.

“I do too, trust me its so fucking depressing here with just me and Marely,” she sighed, reffering to the tabby cat that her and Josh adopted together a few months ago.

“aw how is she?” He asked, smiling into the phone. Penny moved the camera to her right, displaying the cat that was curled up by her hip.

“She is great, but wishes she was living the rockstar life,” Josh chuckled to Penny’s response.

“Okay but seriously Pen, can’t you just call sick for one week, say you got really bad food poisoning,” he pleaded.

“If I say that, then I feel like I will accidentally manifest that I will actually get food poisoning for a week,” she laughed into the phone.

“fair point, but it’s not the same without you here, I’m not the same without you here,” his tone shifted to a more serious one with every word, looking straight into her eyes through the screen.

“I mean technically I’m on studio time right now, so they wouldn’t know if I came with you for a week or two...or they would fire me,” she scratched her chin, thinking out the possibilities in her head.

“If they fire you, then just go freelance, they never fully understood your work anyways,” he smirked at her, knowing that she always complained about the company she was hired by, repeating their failures for understanding creativity.

“Alright Kizka, you drive a hard bargain,” Penny smiled.

“Is that a yes?” Josh’s eyes widened at the blonde girl through the screen.

“it is not a no.”

“fuck yes, so I can book you a plane ride to California for tomorrow?” He now got up from the bunk, excitedly running to his computer.

“Mhm, just tell me what time.”

“Ok here’s one, leaves Nashville at 8, gets in Cali at 10,” Josh said, calculating the time difference in his head.

“you are such a bad influence, Kizka,” Penny rubbed her forehead tiredly.

“I will see you tomorrow my love, get some sleep okay?” he smiled at her tired expression, kissing the camera of his phone sweetly.

“see you tomorrow.” and with that she hung up the phone and exhaled loudly. What just happened? One conversation with Josh and she hits the road. It makes her think back to when she didn’t have anyone, and spent years alone in her little studio apartment, taking photos of walls and birds. Now she would drop everything with the snap of his fingers. In her heart she knew that her dependency on him for happiness was not right, but she was too deep in. Her head was stuck underwater, surrounded by the cool rush of his love. The flaws went unnoticed by both of them in fact, just simply mistaking it for head over heels infatuation.

As her head hit the pillow, she thought that the emptiness of the room was less significant as it was a few hours ago. Maybe it was the excitement of the idea of not sleeping alone tomorrow, or just the few minutes of hearing his voice. Whatever it was lulled her softly to sleep.

In a hazy dream, she remembered her and Josh’s first kiss. It was outside of their favorite bar after their second date. He stood next to her, shoulder pressed to hers, and hand interlacing with her own. He was wearing his usual attire, a white long sleeved shirt and tan pants. Yet he looked extravagant, his energy was inherently outgoing. As he says, the Kizka’s have a “flair for flair”. The cool wind seemed to push the pair together, jostling her hair softly as he looked over at her. His eyes were slightly hooded, closed just a slightly against the wind. Her glances fell down to his cupids bow, admiring its shape, then to his lips where she wished she never had to leave. He noticed the shift in her gaze and did the same himself, smirking at her. She smiled, tugging his chin towards her. His hands laced through her hair, smiling into the kiss. Their lips met, and they fit together like they were made for each other, and no one else.

Her alarm forced her out of the wonderful image that played in her sleep, jutting her eyes open to the harsh sunlight of the morning. She quickly packed an old leather suitcase with a few pairs of jeans, shirts, and dresses, knowing that she would be stealing jewlery and sweatshirts from Josh. In what seemed like five minutes she was at her gate, coffee in hand, and camera stowed in her carry-on bag. She decided to text Josh that she was about to board the plane, knowing that he was probably still asleep.

Penny: Hey, boarding now. I’ll text you when I land

sent 8:05am

She then put her earbuds in, deciding on listening to the new album, just so she was prepared to sing alone at the shows. It wasn’t like she hadn’t memorized it the night it came out, but she always felt bad listening to it with Josh, it just felt odd to her. The first song to come on shuffle was Light My Love, and she nearly cried remembering the fireside performance she witnessed a not too long ago.

The plane ride went by in what felt like minutes. Her mind was racing with so many thoughts, most about getting in trouble with work, but others about Josh and how excited she was to see him and the rest of the band. The tires of the plane landed in California with a jaulting thud, and she was brought out of her dissociation.

She knew that Josh expected her to uber to the venue, after all he was probably just waking up now. So she called an uber, standing outside of LAX clad in an old Janis Joplin shirt, flare jeans, and her classic high heeled leather boots. Penny looked straight out of the 70′s, but Josh felt like the 70′s, a pair who perfectly complimented each other.

The uber ride was bumpy and seemingly and hour too long. She finally reached the venue at 11:46, hastily thanking the driver and sauntering to the tour bus parked behind the stage. She knocked a few times on the door, and after the third time, she finally heard a groggy “what do you want”

She smiled, pushing the door open with her foot and walking up the stairs, she was met with a pool of long brown hair and a very naked Jake laying on one of the bunks. Josh was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh hey Penny, what are you doing here?” Jake asked casually, ignoring the fact that he was naked. She was not phased by the latter twins actions, after all, she spent a fair amount of time with the band and often felt like she was equally as close with all of the members.

“Just lookin for my loverboy, any idea where he is?” She answered, leaning against on of the seats camly.

“I think I remember him saying he wanted to go hear the acoustics of the empty stage, so maybe he’s there,” Jake answered groggily.

“thanks,” she said as she made her way, now at a faster speed then before towards the back entrance of the venue. The staff didn’t seem to bat an eye at her as she hastily walked hallway after hallway until she reached the back of the stage. Then she saw him, standing with his arms out wide, silently absorbing the feeling of the empty arena.

“babe?” she said, accidentally making it sound like a hushed whisper.

The curly headed man then turned his head over his shoulder, smiling. His smile widened nearly ten fold when he saw the girl to his left. She looked amazing, her hair seemingly always falling in just the right way, she paused for a moment, reaching for something in her bag.

“don’t move, and look forward again, just like you were before,” She smiled and clicked the shutter of the camera, knowing it would be beautiful, every photo with Josh in it is. She then put the camera away and ran into his arms, collapsing into his embrace. He hugged her tightly, moving his hands up and down her back.

“I missed you so much my love,” He said into her hair.

“I missed you more lover,” she replied.

Hey pretty people! I hoped you liked this chapter, I may or may not write another either tomorrow night or by sunday! Asks are open for Jake or Josh imagines BTW!

#gfv #josh kiszka #josh kizka imagine #jake kizka fic #jake kizka #sam kiskza #danny wagner #danny wagner fic #sam kizka fic #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van meme #peaceful army #battle at garden’s gate #highway tune #classic rock #rock #writerscommunity #josh kizka fic

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jebazzled · 3 years

Text

it ain’t your muse! (shut up & write, ft. rihanna)

You nerds are always talking about your muse. My muse this, my muse that, I have no muse, my muse went the way of the dinosaurs, if my muse comes out of its burrow and sees its shadow I won’t be able to write for six weeks.

Shut up about your fucking muse!

It is true that you might go through periods where it is hard to find time and energy to write, or negative experiences in a writing community might leave you with anxiety surrounding writing. But by and large, writers block is something you can overcome!

Please, for the love of god, let me help you.

Writing is a muscle, and you’ve got to exercise it if you don’t want it to atrophy.

This tutorial is a bit of tough love about y’all and y’all’s diddly-darn muses, and some advice for snapping yourself out of it!

So here’s the thing about writing, my loves. You have to actually do it.

TERRIBLY inconvenient, I know.

I’m not here to tell you how to manage your work-life balance or how to manage your time. If you’re not writing much because you straight up don’t have time to write much, my advice is simple: pare down on your characters, focus on the plots that matter most to you, and spend some mental health juice on reminding yourself that there isn’t an RP Prom Queen, and even if there were, it’s better not to live or die by that bizarro crown.

But if you’re having trouble writing because of Your Muse... I’m cracking my knuckles.

We’ve all written with folks before - or been that folk before - who need a very specific set of circumstances if they’re going to write: they need time to Pinterest, need to listen to a specific playlist, need to get in the mindset, need the thread to scratch a very specific itch and need all of it to come together before the moon passes out of a waxing gibbous. As a fellow dev ho, I understand the appeal of writing to suit a mood, of vibing to a playlist, of prioritizing the stuff you’re going fucking feral for, of having the stars align while you do the thing. But if you’re like this when you’re writing for other people -

well, you’re making things difficult for both you and your writing partners! We can’t control the external constraints on our time, e.g. work and school, and we can’t always control the nonsense our psychology spins to keep us from writing. But some things are within our control, and by god, if there is any control to be had in the year of Mother Sappho 2021, don’t you want it?

At least some of your writers block is probably dumb as hell. So let’s beat the shit out of that part.

Anyway, if you’re yakking on and on about how your muse demands a bottle of red wine and a scented candle and fairy lights and soft socks and the blood of the servant, willfully given in order to spit out 200 words, or whatever...

it’s not that fucking deep.

Writing is a muscle. It’s like any other muscle: you need to exercise it.

If you’re training for a 5k, you don’t sit on your couch listening to “Eye of the Tiger” until race day. You get your ass off the cushion and pound the pavement. You probably start by alternating walks with short bursts of running. You probably don’t work your way up to actually running 5k at a time for a few weeks. And once you’ve run that first 5k, you don’t go sit on your couch to listen to “Eye of the Tiger” until the next race. You keep running to stay in shape for the next race.

Writing is like that.

What you write does not have to be perfect.

You can work on the post for six weeks and there will still be things you could change. You know what change your writing partner would have appreciated most? If you’d posted it for them three weeks ago. Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good.

Cut yourself the same slack you cut for your writing partners. Do you yearn to keelhaul them if their reply isn’t worth a National Book Award? No, because you’re not an asshole. They’re also not an asshole. Everyone is reasonable here. Write something that responds to what they gave you and that gives them something to work with. Not every single post has to be capital-I Inspired. ✨

What you write does not have to be a vibe ready for the Goop newsletter.

I was a creative writing major in college, and I was always having to turn stuff in for class that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to work on: a short story set in another country when I just wanted to write a play with puppets, an essay about food when I would rather write one about a weekend drive, etc.

Sometimes, you write what you write when you write it not because it’s getting you hot and bothered but because you’ve owed a reply for A While and you feel bad about keeping someone waiting. It will still be fun, because you chose to do that thread with your character and someone else’s character for a reason, and that reason stands, even if your monkey brain is yearning to play with that slime that makes fart noises when you put it away.

(Pro tip, here: don’t do threads you don’t actually have any interest in writing! It is less awkward to tell someone, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn” than to waste their time with 10 posts of it before telling them, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn.”)

The more you write, the easier it is.

Let’s talk about running again. A couple of years ago, I went on a bit of a kick with the running. I ran at least three times a week. I would bring my running shit with me to work so I could run in the park near my office. I would make running dates with friends. I would reward myself with a bagel from my favorite cafe if I did a run. And you know what? Once I got myself past the hurdle of pulling on my running clothes and lacing up my shoes, I enjoyed myself. When I ran 5k without slowing to a walk, I was proud of myself. When I told myself, “let’s do another loop at the park!” and stopped to take a photo of the sunset, I enjoyed myself. I would not have enjoyed myself if I hadn’t hit the goddamn pavement.

Put your ass in your fucking chair. I don’t care if you don’t have the right scented candle. Write 50 words. Right fucking now. I’ll wait.

Write another 50.

Now write another 100.

How long did that take you? Some days, it might take you 90 minutes to write 200 words. But that’s 200 more words than you would have written in 90 minutes of browsing Pinterest waiting for an angel to come down from heaven and write this post for you.

All that bullshit you do to Feed Your Muse? It’s stalling, you idiot.

The more you make yourself write instead of just thinking about writing, the easier it will be to actually fucking write.

I used to sit and stare at posts for hours and hours and hours before submitting them, so worried about the post being good enough. When I moved to a neighborhood with an aboveground train line, I was able to write on my morning commute, and writing every morning - even if only the 200 words I could crank out on mobile in 30 minutes before work - got me out of my weird writers block crutches and security blankets. It didn’t take as much effort to write, anymore. I wrote over 200,000 words in 2019, and over 300,000 words in 2020, when I had barely any commute at all to use on writing. I didn’t magically have endless hours of free time. I just wasn’t wasting my free time pretending that being on Tumblr counted as writing.

Tough love: doled out. And now:

TIPS & TRICKS FOR BEATING “””Writers Block”””

Stop acting like Writers Block is real. It’s not that it’s not real, but by telling yourself that you have Writers Block, you’re making it worse for yourself. You’re making excuses for yourself. I used Writers Block to stall writing my Topics in Creative Writing: Folktales portfolio for 3 months, and you know what happened? I still had to turn in the fucking portfolio, because the person I was writing for didn’t fucking care about my fucking Writers Block. And you know who had to sit her ass in a chair and write 30 pages of folktales in a 24 hour period? Me. It’s almost like my Writers Block was just PROCRASTINATION.

Set a timer. If you’re looking at your list of replies owed and you’re feeling like it might be easier to “do character dev” and “build a playlist” than to write your posts, break the task into smaller pieces. If your server has a sprint bot, use it. If not, set your own timer. Organize your list of threads with the ones you’ve owed replies on the longest at the top. Set your timer for 20 minutes and see how much you can write for the oldest post you owe. Not done? Set the timer for another 20 minutes. Keep setting that timer until that post is done and you can drop it in the tags channel. Now do the same for the second oldest. CRANK! THEM! OUT! If you find that it’s depleting your creative energy, that’s not unusual! When I get to this point in my own posting habits, my oldest replies owed are usually for Albus Dumbledore, a character I write specifically because I hate him. It is often easier to knock out all his posts in one chunk rather than shift voice, so this ends up working out nicely.

Don’t indulge your stupid stalling tactics. Do you typically get sidetracked by Pinterest? Put your phone away and close that tab. Do you get absorbed in lining up the perfect music for writing a post? Write in silence, asshole. Do you need to be in your favorite chair with the right lighting? Go sit on a park bench and write on mobile. It’s nice to write in idealized environments. I rented a treehouse last summer to write 10k on a novel! I get it! But you absolutely can write in other environments, if you have to. And if you can get yourself to write on a dark skin on your iPad at an airport in the Midwest while waiting for a flight - well, shit, think of how much you’ll be able to write on a laptop when your diva ass demands are properly met!

Don’t take on shit you don’t want to write. I fully admit that these tactics feel a bit like homework/chores/a to-do list for what is of course a fun hobby. You know how they say “love what you do and you’ll never work a day in your life?” If you don’t take on plots, characters, and threads that don’t have a lick of interest or excitement for you, this shit won’t feel like a hassle.

Hope this whips all you little miscreants (myself included) into shape! Now quit your yapping and start writing.

#rp guides #resources #writing resources #on writing #stop trying to make writers block happen. it's not going to happen.

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teruthecreator · 3 years

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THS IS A ROBBERY 🔫YOUR ROLESWAP LORE!!! HAND IT OVER 🤲if u want 2 :)

just took my melatonin bc i have to wake up at 4:30 AM to drive 16 hours to my mother’s so i’m sorry if this becomes derailed but uh. here’s the roleswap lore! or, at least, everything i’ve decided (along with matthew and corinne bc the three of us tagteamed on it)

gonna chuck it all under a readmore bc this is going to get long

so first off, just gonna run out in front and say i have no idea how this fits into graduation plot. i haven’t gotten that in plot consideration, given their character differences in comparison to their canonical selves. so, for the most part, it’s a lot of background establishment and character traits. but i do have a few plot bits that i’ve figured out bc i thought it was cool. why such a long preamble? i don’t know. help me

fitzroy maplecourt:

first off, he’s not called sir!!! because he doesn’t go to knight school!

my idea for his backstory is that the way he decides to grapple with his identity crisis/imposter syndrome (which he definitely Still has) is that instead of becoming a grander, larger than life version of himself. he just. goes the opposite.

not necessarily becoming a degenerate (bc he just smokes pot and that’s not bad he’s just vibing)??? but more just like. leaning into the laid-back nature of life that one might pick up from a lifetime in rural country.

he goes to a liberal arts school a ways away and just decides to bum around and take life not seriously. he develops a pretty large group of acquaintances being a hippie stoner; he doesn’t really pursue a degree either. i think if he picked up any major it was probably like. an art major or an english but he basically fails most of his classes bc he doesn’t care!

unlike his canonical counterpart, fitzroy doesn’t mind being called nicknames!! ones i think he has the most are fitz or roy, but basically you could call him anything and he’ll respond. that is because, instead of clinging to the concept of his identity bc it’s the only thing he feels he has, his identity is nebulous!! he doesn’t understand it and it scares him too much to be concrete, so he just lets people decide shit about him for him.

his personal philosophy is more about floating through life and letting people assume shit about him than having a solid personality and backstory that people understand and recognize. it is a more dissociative way of having an identity crisis! how fun! he also barely talks about his past, and what he does talk about are cherrypicked points of his past that fit his narrative of being a casual down-to-earth hippie

the moment that this all changes is when order decides to pop in and grant him powers!!!! wahoo!!!! here’s how that happens:

he’s baked out of his fucking gourd in his dorm room, in the spring semester of his junior year. he’s alone (which is rare) and he’s maybe a little sad, but he decides to just ignore it. he looks at his table and laughs. “hehe, what if this table just. blew up?” he says to himself. it isn’t that funny, but he laughs. then he lays his hand on the table.

the table blows up.

after that, he has magic!!!

i’m going to go into detail a little bit later about how fitzroy’s magic manifests in the roleswap universe, but i wanna get through the backstory first. basically, he gets really freaked out after his magic comes to him because it is So New and Wow What and What The Fuck.

he realizes that this new addition to his character Completely changes how people who know him would perceive him (as a bum stoner chill guy), and he can no longer have control of his narrative with this magic business. so he drops out!

well, he actually just transfers. to a school far, far away where people will never know who he was and he can rebuild his narrative with this magic incorporated into it. he chooses wiggenstaff’s because he figures the school would have more of a knowledge of magic than his libarts school, which would mean he could understand why the fuck weed gave him magic (sidenote: it wasn’t weed, obvs, but he thinks this so for a while he doesn’t smoke!)

he is now the chill hippie of wiggenstaff’s!!! most people like him because his personality is fairly easy to digest; some people think he shouldn’t be there, but he is! he starts out as a sidekick and he would’ve honestly been fine with that forever, but then he’s suddenly thrust into the hero track!!! wow!!!! i will also explain this with the magic.

but yeah!! that’s fitzroy, for the most part. now we’ll move onto the other boy

argonaut keene:

he actually prefers if people call him argonaut, but he’s less likely to correct people than canon fitzroy Or canon argo. he’s a tad bit shyer in this universe!

argo’s backstory pretty much follows the same idea of his canonical background, but with some key differences that shape him into the character he is in the present!

basically he still grows up on shebrie’s ship, surrounded by crewmates and the salty sea air. but his fascination with the sea doesn’t manifest into this swashbuckling lifestyle that he has in canon.

what fascinates him more is the ship itself. how it functions, how water wears down wood, how directional currents can affect navigation. basically, he becomes invested in the sciences part of sealife more than the pirateering. he has special interests in marine biology, but his heart remains in nautical engineering. figuring out ways to make the ship run better, faster, and more efficiently consumes his childhood thoughts!

shebrie encourages her son’s craving for knowledge with tomes and books from all over the world about anything related to engineering and nautical things. he’s homeschooled, basically, but he becomes rather intelligent within a few short years!

and then, well....shebrie dies. yeah we aren’t escaping that finality, sorry folks. that part of canon Still Applies.

after shebrie’s death (coughMURDERcough), argo is. traumatized! and he makes the decision to almost entirely sever himself from his life on the sea. it’s all too painful to look back upon--the times he spent studying with his mother in the captain’s quarters, rattling off dolphin facts as they sailed onward, dreaming of turning gears as the ship gently rocked him to sleep--and so he just decides to throw the whole thing out!

he can’t ignore his lifetime of education, though, so he continues to pursue it. with the remainder of money his mother left behind, he enrolls himself in a boarding school of science and technology, with plans to continue study in Only engineering. no more nautical Anything on his roster.

eventually, when he is old enough and graduates high school, he roams around...trying to figure out what to do. he doesn’t have enough money for college, so he can’t continue his scholarly efforts yet. he works around, job-to-job, city-to-city, and just notices how...delayed everything feels. like society is suffering under this slow pace towards innovation.

and that’s when he decides his next course of action. if he were to discover the root of some problem and engineer a solution, he would be famous! he would gain notoriety and praise and--and all the things his mother had as a captain. but he would have it on his own, separate from his mother, and separate from his past.

he figures out his next course of action: attend a school that will give his prestigious enough marks to be accepted onto a research team, find a problem, solve it, help the world, maybe earn a little bit of that credit and respect that would make him feel like he was doing his mother proud.

the thing i want to emphasize here is that argo’s take on helping the world comes from that morality that canon fitzroy has. canon fitzroy wanted to be a knight because he wanted to fairly and justly instill ideas of “good” and “bad” onto the world. roleswap argo has a similar moral sense, but instead of establishing rules he wants to fix the “bad” and make it “good” in a technological/scientific sense.

the only school argo can think of that can get him that kind of notoriety is wiggenstaff’s. getting onto the HOG board would mean he’d have access to countless resources and be respected by a large audience, which would give him the opportunity to make change happen. even if he’s only a sidekick On Paper, what matters is that the diploma would give him the ability to Apply to the HOG. so he drafts a carefully worded letter for a scholarship and achieves a full-ride!!! epic

like fitzroy’s magic, i’m going to break down argo’s relation to the unbroken chain after i get through backstory stuff. but trust me, I’ve Thought Of It

argo sort of blends into the background at wiggenstaff’s. or, he would, if his roommates/friends weren’t so Fucking Out There. fitzroy is enough to make him always be visible, but even the firbolg’s massive frame means eyes are always on him. which makes him nervous!! he doesn’t like the attention (as opposed to his canonical self, who revels in it for the self-esteem fuel) his insecurities manifest more in what he’s Doing rather than what he Is, mostly because his identity is barricaded by a wall of trauma repression

he’s still plenty funny and witty, just quieter. also he’s a lot Meaner than canon argo, at least to me. because if you irritate him he Will just completely shut you down with words. motherfucker doesn’t bark but he will most DEFINITELY bite

that’s their backstories, for the most part! in terms of how they interact together:

as established, they meet prior to wiggenstaff’s on a tinder date (during the grace period of argo working odd jobs and fitzroy about to be granted immense fucking power) and end up casually dating during the course of their wiggenstaff education. argo is a nervous goober and fitzroy just likes making him blush. it’s very cute.

fitzroy is still less inclined for the romantic than argo, who remains a steadfast absolute romantic internally. fitzroy still holds a lot of the self-doubt and distrust that canon fitzroy has, only it manifests in him not taking anything seriously! which means when he catches Feelings feelings he basically freaks out

argo still falls in love really quickly, only now he’s more conflicted about it because being in love means trusting and trust means communication and communication means Oops Years Of Trauma Are Being Unloaded Uh Oh!

now i’m going to touch on the big points that i find really interesting: fitzroy’s magic and argo’s relation to the unbroken chain

fitzroy’s magic:

chaos is not the being that grants him magic. it’s order!

my take on what this means for what deity is on what plane of reality is that chaos is more Needed so they are the one that is physically On Nua, while Order remains in dreamscapes because they are already a constant amongst the tangible world. yes i know this directly contradicts the reasoning for why theyre Supposed to be where in canon, leave me alone i’m having fun.

my reasoning for this switch is because chaos stands to be a contradiction to everything canon fitzroy has going on. he has a very strict, nailed-down understanding of himself and the world. everything he thinks is in black and white, bold statements, no questions, he follows rules and obeys the law. untiiiiil chaos gives him magic and shocks him out of that complacency. they lean into his inner impulses and that rage he’s kept locked deep inside. they allow for magic to Explode out of him, rather in calculated bursts or with intent.

which is why order is more fitting for roleswap fitzroy!! because fitzroy, in this world, has less of a concrete grasp of himself and the world. he purposely lets himself be nebulous and goes with the flow. thinking of the future in real terms is not something fitzroy Does, he has no plans and that’s Fine. order seeks to give fitzroy a backbone, to put it simply.

his magic doesn’t go impulsively out of him. it is calculated--it comes with thoughts and intentions. the reason it surprises fitzroy when the table blows up is because he didn’t think his thoughts or wants would amount into that, but that’s what order is trying to show him. that his intentions matter. that he matters and he has to Think and Focus and Be Here.

i’m still not sure if his power would manifest as lightning??? because the imagery for the lightning works perfectly for canon fitzroy because of the random power of lightning strikes. but for roleswap fitzroy it’s more like...thunder. like Purpose. thunder happens because of a reaction--it comes with intent. if differing air temperatures collide, it creates thunder. that combination is purpose + intent equating in magic.

i think that part needs word bc like. how would one quantify thunder?? i think fire might also work really well because the idea of a controlled fire. like things have to Happen in order for fire to start, it can’t just appear like lightning can.

order’s manipulation relies more heavily on the concept of boosting him up as a savior/hero, rather than boosting his ego and desire for power. fitzroy Has no desires in roleswap world--he’s just there. but when he gets put on the hero track, now he’s suddenly been given purpose. and order uses that to be like “wow, look at all these people who rely on you! look how important you are! don’t you want to use this magic for good?? to do good?? start a war with a demon come on pussy :-)”

OH YEAH also he becomes a hero in this universe (like in terms of tracks) because of the fact that it directly contradicts how he views himself. for canon fitzroy, it was showing him how much more he is capable of without the restrictions of morals (i.e, king fitzroy). but roleswap fitzroy doesn’t Have an image he wants to bolster! he doesn’t think he needs it and, frankly, he doesn’t care for it. the hero tracks carries with it all these stereotypes and expectations that now directly contradict his personality--thus showing him he is capable of more.

okay now for argo’s business jesus christ this post is so long and im NOT EVEN DONE WITH ALL THE POINTS I WANTED TO MENTION

argo’s relation to the unbroken chain:

so since roleswap argo has less of an association with his past (and, by extension, the memory of his mother), he is less inclined to join the mysterious cult that his mother was a part of.

moreover, he doesn’t necessarily believe the shit he’s told??? he’s way more skeptical of jackal than canon argo is--immediately questioning why and how jackal knew his mother, and constantly trying to poke holes through his narrative.

generally speaking, if you try to talk to roleswap argo about his mother or his past, he Shuts Down. like completely. and that usually results in him snapping at you or just clamming up completely. mostly he just gets really snippy and angry because Hey Shut Up Dickhead I Don’t Want To Talk About It

a part of me still isn’t sure whether or not argo would take the unbroken chain up on their offer. but i also know that, plot wise and character arc wise, it is a necessary part of argo’s story. so i think, at most, he agrees but is extremely hesitant and might even let fitzroy on immediately once he’s given the task of digging into fitzroy’s life

also, they’re boyfriends in this universe, so how could he Really keep it a secret for that long. come on jackal, you idiot, you know they’re kissing.

i think he’d Eventually warm up to jackal as a sort of father figure, but only after many nights of conversation and dancing around the subject of shebrie.

OH YEAH. this argo doesn’t know the commodore murdered his mother! important to note! he just assumes what he was told was true, that she sailed into dangerous territory and was ambushed.

during the tribunal bit If That Even Happens In This World, i think fitzroy actually is the one who figures it out Before argo. and once argo does, well............fuck!

OKAY last little bit, just gonna talk about some random extra parts of the world that i’ve thought of already:

in this universe, grey takes on higglemas’s identity instead of hieronymous’s!!! this is for good reason actually

okay so basically my thought was that, instead of whatever happened in canon yadda yadda dog time, hieronymous and grey are fighting and it’s a pretty evenly matched battle. there’s a cooldown moment where hiero thinks he’s safe but grey uses sneaky backhanded tactics to try and get the drop on him.

only higgs sees it in time and saves his brother, taking the hit himself. he collapses, extremely wounded, and hiero rushes to his aid. he’s cradling his brother’s body, trying to keep him alive, when grey approaches to deliver the final blow.

hiero is completely crushed and defeated and basically will let grey do anything to him by this point. the only thing he begs of is to let him live long enough to save his brother.

now, grey isn’t nice. let me make that clear. grey fucking SUCKS and the reason he agrees is because he wants a Real War with hiero and he can’t get that if hiero is basically like “if you let higgs die then you might as well kill me”.

so, grey agrees, and hiero ends up saving higgs by turning him into a cat. was supposed to be a temporary solution until he could find a better spell, but he wasn’t the magic guy in the duo. eventually, grey gets tired of waiting and decides to do some other shit. like turning the school the brothers have been running into a backalley place for demons!!

he takes the form of higglemas and leaves hieronymous locked in his office as basically a mascot. he’s like the queen and grey is the parliament--grey makes all the rules, but everyone assumes it’s hiero. faux-higgs is more on the ground, changing things and making the school a place more fitting for an eventual war. he builds up the concept of heroes and villains being Real, in the hopes he can sway some mortals to his side when he’s able to open a portal to hell.

hiero still tries to stop this from happening, but his pride and his self-image is wounded by what happened. he feels guilty and puts the blame entirely on him, instead of doing the whole cowardice route like higgs did in canon. he gets people to help him eventually, via mind control and all tht jazz.

also in this universe, buckminster is the one who gets birdified instead of leon!! has to do with my leon/buckminster and higgs/hiero narrative parallels that i’ve thought of for far too long.

firbolg is exactly the same in this universe. it is hard to swap three people and i didn’t want to think about him.

fitzroy doesn’t pick a grab. i think he’d rather a lizard, like a bearded dragon. he names him something stupid. like scaly. or kyle.

uhhh yeah!!! i think that’s....everything i’ve thought of so far!! lemme know if you wanna hear my takes on any other elements in the roleswap world!!!!

#taz graduation #taz sir fitzroy maplecourt #taz argo keene #roleswap maplekeene #ignorance cloud on #thanks em!!!!#sorry this is a mile long i had a lot to say #and now...i sleep!#jesus christ i have to drive 16 hrs tomorrow #help me :-)#ember360

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andyet-here-we-are · 4 years

Text

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 2 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(ao3: x

Chapter 1 Tumblr Link: x )

Geralt is not someone who is an active social media user. He has never been.

Hell, he wouldn’t even use WhatsApp if he didn’t have to.

He thinks that apps like this make people so accessible, and leaves little privacy, and ironically, despite it’s called “social media” it makes people less social. He has lost count of how many times he has seen a group of friends sitting somewhere and scrolling through some apps on their phone or something instead of talking to each other.

Of course, it depends on one’s use, but from what he can tell, whenever you’re online, people tend to think that you have all the time in the world.

So no, thank you very much. He likes his privacy.

Whenever he says that “Social media is for people who don’t have nothing better and important to do,” Ciri just gives him The Look ™ and says: “Okay, boomer.”

He has no idea what the hell it’s supposed to mean, but he is sure it’s not something good.

Once Ciri had downloaded some dating app on his phone without his permission while he was sleeping his ass off after a very tiring night shift. That little match-maker of a girl.

And not only that, but also she had said: “I texted some of the users for you! The ones I thought you might like. One of them seemed nice, I like her energy. So, anyway, long story short, you have a date this weekend. You can thank me later.”

“Excuse me, you did what?!”

Needless to say, Ciri wasn’t allowed to use the internet for three days after that.

“I just want you to be happy,” on the third day, Ciri had said out of the blue while they were reading I, Robot together —they were both into sci-fi, and reading was a great escape from thinking about all the things going on in life.

“You deserve love. Everyone does. Your whole life is nothing but me and your job, and… You deserve happiness, dad. You deserve love.”

“Come here,” Geralt had said, opening his arms wide for her to embrace him, which Ciri had applied.

“I am happy, pumpkin.”

“You could be happier… If there was someone you loved and dated—”

“Ciri, look. Love is… A beautiful thing.” he started ‘Even though it can be hurtful,’ was left unsaid.

“But love doesn’t necessarily mean the affection between a couple. It doesn’t just mean romantic love. Love can be in many forms, shapes, and different ways. Love of self, of animals, of nature, friends, family… We experience love every day when you think about it. You can find it in everything. Even in a slice of homemade pie that Mrs. April brought us today.”

“I love pie! But dad, I doubt that if a slice of pie can tell you that you look lovely today. A cutie-pie on the other hand—”

“Ciri, have you been even listening to me?”

“…and a pie can’t run their fingers through your hair-”

Geralt sighs, “Why am I even trying?”

“Deep down you know I’m right. Dad… How about you just… give her a chance? For me? Just see how it goes?”

"Is it gonna make you happy if I do that?”

“So happy!”

“And you’re not gonna do something like that ever again.”

“Promise!”

“Not downloading stupid apps on my phone, and not trying to set me up.”

“You got it, Cap!”

Geralt had met with that woman, and they just didn’t click.

True to her word, Ciri never has done something like that again.

***

Geralt is not someone who likes social media.

But there he is, looking at the musician’s posts instead of sleeping—even though he has to get up early as always tomorrow—scrolling through the app, and feeling like a high school girl with a stupid crush.

He reads every little caption the musician had written.

Surprisingly- well, maybe not so surprisingly- his songs aren’t the only thing he posts about.

He posts about random things; sometimes it’s a pretty flower he came across this morning, sometimes it’s a kitten, a book he is currently reading, food recipes, his drawings, things like that.

His account seems like just his personality.

Filled with all the beautiful colors in the word. Filled with joy, and every little thing he shares feels so sincere. Personal.

[I tried that recipe @Brianricci has sent me and it still feels like there are fireworks in my stomach, so here’s a little drawing for you my life-saver pasta-mate.]

That one makes Geralt smile. Reminds him of that day.

***

“I have something for you, Mr. Should Have Been A Model But Became A Nurse For Some Reason. Not that I’m complaining, for the record. The only thing I have complaints about is your hospital’s awful food. So awful that it should be illegal. A sin, even. You’re sinning whenever you guys force people to eat that food. I can only imagine your staff’s weekly confessing: ‘Forgive me father for I’ve sinned.’

‘What’s wrong, immortal one? What did you do?’

‘Oh, father, even bathing myself in holy water can’t cleanse me from my sins! I made my patient eat that awful food, I had to, father! I had to! I had no choice! But I have faith that I can change that one day!’

‘Faith becomes you. Stay with it. Keep fighting the good fight with all thy might.’

God help him this man is so ridiculous.

“Why are you suddenly Anthony Hopkins from The Rite?”

“Eh, just felt like it,” Jaskier shrugs “Your jello is pretty good though, so, good deed point. And your nurses aren’t half bad either, so I heard.”

Jaskier winks at him.

The audacity of that man.

“Anyway! As I was saying, I have something for you—”

“I have something for you, too, Mr. Pankratz,” Geralt says. He has a good guess about what Jaskier has for him.

A drawing of a flower.

He had heard the staff talking about how the pretty patient in room 242 has been giving flower drawings to pretty much everyone while he was walking around.

“Why thank you, you shouldn’t have! You brought some wine for me or something? For the celebration for my third week here? You’re so kind, my good sir.”

“It’s your medicines.”

“…ever the heartbreaker. I take back everything I said. You’re the devil in disguise.”

After Geralt gives him his medicines, Jaskier pulls a scratch book under his pillow and carefully tears a page from it. He gives it to Geralt.

“I thought I was the devil in disguise?” The nurse says as he takes the drawing from him “Are you sure that you should give demons a flower draw—”

Geralt can’t finish his sentence.

Because what he is looking at certainly is not a flower drawing.

It’s a man who holds a syringe in his hand with a kind smile on his face, and the syringe is filled with cute little hearts.

It’s him.

There’s a giant cactus standing behind him for some reason Geralt finds it hard to understand why.

He has seen the other drawings, and they are nothing like this one. This one looks like Jaskier has tried his hardest to make it perfect. Put everything in it. It’s perfect and detailed as if he had drawn it while looking at Geralt. It also seems familiar for some reason.

“—in conclusion, devils are fallen angels, so…” Geralt hears Jaskier talking.

Yet he is too busy to say something as he keeps looking at the drawing in his hands.

“Ooops, did I go too far with the hearts?”

“Hm.”

“Geralt? Say something, please? Oh God, I broke my nurse. They’re sooo gonna sue me. And I don’t think I can afford a good lawyer, I’ll rot in jails, I’m too young to rot in jails, I can’t be someone’s bitch, I’m not even—”

“May I ask why is there a cactus standing behind me?”

“A comment! Phew! Finally! Well, that would be because you’re just like a cactus.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow.

“Better than being a weed, Dandelion.”

Jaskier holds his hand to his chest and gasps, feigning offense.

“Words hurt, Geralt. Words hurt.

I meant it as, like, let’s face it, you’re kinda prickly on the outside sometimes, but soft on the inside? A cactus in the desert.”

Geralt sighs.

“And now you imply that my hospital is a desert. How nice. What’s next?”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s okay.”

It’s obviously more than okay, but teasing with the young man is fun, and everyone needs some fun in their lives once in a while.

“If you don’t appreciate my drawing just give it back,” Jaskier makes grabby hands as he pouts like a little kid that just dropped his ice cream, “I’m pretty sure it’ll look good on my fridge anyway. No trouble for me.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“I’m not giving this back. Too late, you should’ve thought that before you gave it to me. Can’t take it back now.”

“If you don’t say something nice about my spectacular drawing you can be sure that I’m gonna take it back from your hands even if that means putting up a fight.”

“How bold of you to think that you’re in a condition to put up a fight.”

“You’d be surprised. And if I can’t, your other nurse friends and your fellow patients can do it for me. I haven’t been handing out flower drawings for nothing all day.”

“And you say I am the devil in disguise.”

“I never said I was an angel, have I? Seriously though, you have ten seconds to pay a compliment to my drawing. Ten—”

“ ‘Okay’ was a compliment.”

“I beg to differ, since when ‘okay’ is a compliment? Say that to the Italian chef in Mamma Mia when he asks how is the pasta and see if he takes ‘okay’ as a compliment and doesn’t pour half-full pasta plate over your head, and ruin your favorite bee shirt. Also, nine.”

“That was oddly specific. Did that happen to you?”

“Eight, I have no idea what you’re talking about, I was just being hypothetical. Seven, six—”

“I bet he wouldn’t threaten me with taking my meal back if I did at least.”

“Sev— wait a second I was counting backwards, weren’t I? Where were we? Five!”

“Man, you’re really no good at math.”

“Wanna know what I’m good at? Many things, and fighting happens to be one of them. Four, ” Jaskier attempts to get up from the bed, somehow forgetting about his broken leg for a split second and swears: “Ah, cock!”

Geralt barely holds back a laugh at that one.

“Careful.”

“I can still verbally fight you.”

“You’ve been already doing that for the last five minutes.”

“…three.”

“You never give up, do you?” Geralt rolls his eyes with a smile, “It’s a good drawing. I really like it.”

Another lie.

He doesn’t just like it, he loves it.

But even saying that he likes it is enough to make Jaskier beam at him.

“You gave everyone a flower drawing,” he points out “but I get a cactus and a drawing of myself, why is that? It must have taken some time to draw this.”

“A special drawing for a special nurse.” Not making eye contact, Jaskier says so softly that Geralt nearly misses it. “Yeah, it sure took some time to draw it, and my schedule was so full because of all the crazy hospital parties you guys keep throwing that I could hardly find the time, but eh, I managed somehow.”

“Sucks that they never invite me to that parties,” the nurse jokes back. “Seriously though, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“I’d like to draw something for Ciri, too. But I’m saving it for later when I can meet her. You didn’t tell her that I’m here, right?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Good! Keep it that way.”

***

Smiling at the memory, Geralt rises from his bed to take the drawing from his bedside drawer. No, of course he doesn’t look at it every day, what are you talking about?

If he hadn’t promised Jaskier that he wouldn’t let Ciri know until these two can meet in person, this drawing would be on his wall already.

Maybe next to Ciri’s painting of a white wolf.

He had considered doing so but then decided that it would be wise if he didn’t. No doubt Ciri would figure out it was Jaskier’s drawing as soon as she would see it. It was signed by him, after all. Not that Ciri couldn’t figure it out without the signature.

“What the hell, Geralt” The nurse snorts to himself and runs a hand over his face as he imagines his room filled with the drawings of his daughter, and Jaskier’s. “What are you gonna dream about next? Ciri being a flower girl at your wedding?”

Fuck.

He is totally dreaming about it now.

God, it’s crazy how much he misses him, even though he doesn’t really know him.

Ciri already is crazy about Jaskier, and Geralt looks forward to them to meet, to see how Ciri is going to react when she sees him. He feels like the two would talk non-stop, and he would just listen to them talking about God knows what.

He would have no problem with that; in fact.

“I’ll give him a call tomorrow,” he thinks.

He wants to see Jaskier again.

(Thanks for reading! Sorry for the lack of Jaskier in this chapter, but it was like:

-So, it’s time for you to meet Ciri!

-Hah, well, I love her, but I don’t think so. Not yet.

-But Ciri-

-You can have me as a Flashback Guest in this chapter, nothing more.

-But my plan wasn’t like this.

-Too bad, I’m my own character.

Let me know what you think please. Have a good day everyone ~ 💛)

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #nurse geralt au #my writing #I Would Get Into Millions Of Accidents Just To See You #geralt of rivia

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dead-decomposer · 4 years

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More Atla because I’m thinking about Zuko and his family(yes I realize I spelt his name wrong in my Azula post)

Zuko and Iroh have tea together every day, and take turns deciding what tea they have and where they have their tea

Iroh usually chooses Ginseng and Zuko usually chooses Jasmine, sometime

Aang and Katara will stop by and join them for tea, when they do they get to pick and often pick green tea or chamomile, when they go usually Iroh and Zuko send them off with a case of tea

Aang doesn’t drink tea very often but he does appreciate it a lot, Katara on the other hand drinks tea quite often

Sokka travels between the kingdoms a lot, having become determined to learn every kind of fighting style he can, but obviously he spends time with his friends and family when he sees them(which is pretty often)

Zuko usually asks Sokka if he can come to meetings with him, since Sokka is much better at handing people and is better at strategizing, Zuko wouldn’t admit it for a long time but he also just enjoys Sokka being there and feels safer with his friend around

Suki and Toph usually travel with Sokka, Suki makes sure they don’t do anything crazy(but also becaus she loves them) and Toph makes sure they get up to trouble every now and again

Suki adores and admires Toph for her strength and independence but also lover her as a little sister, so does Sokka

The first time the three of them run into trouble Suki is a bit protective of Toph since she has never seen her in battle much but Toph actually ends but protecting Suki

Toph and Suki tell Sokka all the time how proud of him they are, both because they are incredible proud of him but also to help with his RSD

Sokka and Suki also tell Toph how proud of her they are because she deserves to hear it

First time they meet Tophs dad properly he acts all “polite” and “I’m a changed man” because they’re friends with the avatar who saved all their butts and doesn’t want them to bring up how he sent mercenaries after them, but as soon as Toph makes it clear she is staying with her friends and not coming home he becomes much more condescending and rude to them

Toph immediately defends her friends, opening up about how terrible a father he was and how her friends are a million times better than he ever was and ever could be

Tophs mom also left her dad, she did a long while before this since she cared a lot about Toph and is still protective and anxious for her but since Toph ran away and she heard all about the things she had done she realized that her daughter didn’t need to be protected but needed to be loved

Her mother now lives in a smaller village a ways away from Tophs home city and works at a garden, she is overjoyed when Toph comes to visit her and always “shows” her all the plants and flowers(her mom is the other person Toph won’t make passive aggresive comments abt being blind to), her mom tells her what the flowers look like and let’s Toph feel them to get a sense of they shape and smells them, and Toph shows her mother her earth bending to which her mother is still nervous about but is supportive and proud of her daughter for being such an accomplished daughter

Tophs mom still babies her but in more of the usual “loves they child so fucking much” way which Toph pretends not to like but appreciates it

Her mom also loves the Sokka and Suki, often thanking Sokka for taking care of her daughter

One day Toph gives her mom a pendant that she made with part of the metiorite metal, it’s simple but it’s of a mother and daughter hugging

Eventually when Toph feels like settling down she moves in with her mom and helps her in her garden, since she’s able to sense roots in the dirt she gets really good at identifying weeds and certain plants and how well they are growing, also able to tell where there are insect nests in the dirt that might threaten the plants

Tophs powers also makes replanting things a breeze

In their travels, Suki learns a few new fighting techniques but prefers to stick to her kiyoshi warrior techniques

Sokka sticks to his swordsmanship and boomerang but basically can use whatever is avalable to fight

When he introduces Suki to the White Lotus she’s honored to meet them but quickly realizes why Sokka gets along with them so well

When Sokka and Suki visit the fire nation they of course stay at the palace and spend time with Zuko and Iroh but they also often go on Double Dates with Mai and Ty Lee(not at first of course)

The for of them met properly through Zuko but often talk about the whole boiling rock thing and laugh a bit about stuff

One time they asked Zuko to come with them but he doesn’t realize he’s supposed to bring a date so he comes alone, which ends up turning the whole thing into just a friends hang out

During this hang out Suki sees how much Sokka and Zuko enjoy each other company and how well they get along, she asks Ty Lee and Mai about Zuko n they say that he definitely has a thing for Sokka, whether he knows it or not

Suki is a little worried at first but not jealous or mad, and eventually comes to terms with the possibility that Sokka and Zuko might end up together, but until then she’s gonna love Sokka for the ridiculous and caring man he is

Eventually Suki catches Sokka admiring Zuko and talks to him about it, at first Sokka doesn’t understand what the HECK she’s talking about but as she asks him a few things he realizes “oh shit I am in love with Zuko”, Suki tells him it’s okay and gives him a kiss on the cheek, they decide to stay friends and still hang out constantly

After than it’s time for Suki, Mai and Ty Lee to plot out how they’re gonna get the two together, they both kind of know that the girls are planning something but not that the other knows or even that the other likes them

The girls try and fail MANY times over to get the two to admit to each other but it’s not until Iroh bluntly says “wow you two get along really well you would make a great couple” that they finally date

Turns out Iroh has been on team Zukka since day one(of course he still supported Sokka and Suki being together and gave her advise during and after their relationship but he’s a wise old man who knows gay love when he sees it)

Onto Aang and Katara centred headcanons(there won’t be many because the whole show is kind of about them)

Aang is really good at keeping his emotions in check, especially his anger, whereas Katara isn’t, he teaches her a lot of what the monks taught him of how to control her anger and not let it get the better of her

Coincidentally Katara also helps Aang learn to express his frustrations in a healthy way so that he doesn’t constantly feel like he has to be happy all the time

At one point Zuko mentioned to them how they didn’t listen to Sokka or take him very seriously in passing and since then the two of them have been working on listening to him

Zuko also further helps Katara come to terms with her mother’s death and she is the first person to help him start his search for his mother

He doesn’t notice at first of course but eventually he does and he is very touched

Katara is actually really bad at doing her own hair and usually Sokka or Gran Gran had to do it for her, but Aang is amazing at braiding and styling hair(saying that it’s a lot like air or fire bending)

Aang does her hair every morning, he does it well enough that reasonably it would last a bit longer than a day but Katara purposefully messes it up or undoes it so he has to do it again the following morning

She never learns to do it better herself because she loves when Aang does her hair

As kids they live at the water tribe but as they get older Aang decides he wants to try and rebuild the air temples

The entire Gaang helps him with this, and they do their best to maintain the traditional style and architecture of the air temples, restoring and preserving what they can

Tophs mom comes to help with gardening as a thank you and an apology to Aang about how her husband and her acted, he accepts her apology and they get along really well

Zuko and Katara surprise Aang by cleaning up the statue of Monk Giatsu(forgive me if I spelt it wrong) and turned his statue into a proper memorial to him and the lost air nomads, they keep it simple of course since they know Aang wouldn’t want anything extreme

The settlers from the other air temples are welcome to stay on the condition that they respect Aangs traditions, Toph and Sokka force convince them to clean up and restore the parts of the temple they had changed and disrespected

Working with Aang they continue their work with flying machines and whatnot but now in a much more respectful manner to the people who used to live there.

Thanks to the air ballons the air temples that would have been inaccessible to non-airbenders, people from any nation and with any bending ability are able to visit the temples, Aang wants the temples to be open to people however doesn’t want anyone else to be moving in until everything is complete and that he feels that it would be a respectable amount of time since the air benders last lived there

Zuko also advises him that it would be wise to wait until they are sure that peace has been reached and that they won’t have to worry about anyone desecrating the air temples

After the war Zuko has a lot of propaganda to get rid of and history books to reevaluate and educational material to rewrite,

Aang helps with the educational material since he actually spent some time attending fire nation school, the classes and teachings are still strict as to their culture however any propoganda is removed, and more creative extracurriculars are added

Toph and other earth benders(gladly) help to destroy old fire nation statues or any other harmful remenants of the war, Toph uses this as an opportunity to erect statues of herself but Zuko doesn’t mind too much, he considers her to be a much better role model than his father

And of course Zuko gets help from scholars from every kingdom in rewriting history books to make sure that they are right and that no tragedy is overlooked and no horrible actions excused or forgotten

Zuko loves and adores his people and makes sure that they know it at every opportunity, and since he is still young he appoints several advisors and trustees to help him run his kingdom so that he is still able to be a child(and so he can still work in his uncles tea shop) but is careful to make sure that important decisions still fall to him so that his council and people still know he’s in charge

Anyways I’m in love with this show n there will probably be more posts like this eventually, i started researching it a few days ago n I’m only on like episode 7 but that doesn’t matter because I’ve watched it a lot thanks to a friend of mine who watched it non stop in highschool :3

#atla #aang atla #katara atla #sokka atla #zuko atla #iroh atla #atla hc #atla headcanons

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warriorlid14 · 4 years

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For the fic summary ask game, when you have time - Ron/Neville, "everybody wants to pass as cats" (song reference is Mr Jones and Me, the previous line is "we all want to be lions," and every song which makes any mention of a lion of any kind needs go be referenced in an hp fic title)

Oh man, that quotes gives me “I am going to pretend to be strong” and “I am definitely Okay, Just Fine” vibes, SO: set after the war, Ron and Hermione have decided they’re better off as friends

Two months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Ron shows up at Neville’s door. He’s sheepish, and a bit ashamed that he hasn’t sent him an owl to see how he’s doing. Or Luna or Dean or Seamus. Hermione has, and he’s told her to say hi on his behalf, and he’s seen them in the dozens of funerals or ministry events but he never really talked to them, instead exchanging “this sucks” glances. So he feels a little bad. But he’s also pants at herbology and needs a favor.

“George needs this ingredient for a few of his products. It’s the toxins of the leaf, see? But neither of us knows how to grow it or gather it without bollixing it up. Fred was better at herbology.” He’s mastered the skill of saying his brother’s name now without a flicker of pain on his face. “So I was thinking. Maybe you could teach me?”

Neville agrees, of course, and informs him that it’ll take three weeks, and that he can just get him the ingredient himself if he wants. Ron shakes his head, and says that he wants to learn, so Neville tells him he’ll have to come every other day because this particular plant is high-maintenance.

The first couple of times Ron comes over are a little awkward. They don’t talk much. Nobody has been doing much besides dealing with the aftermath of this war, and it sucks and it’s depressing and so they don’t talk. Until the third time he comes over and Neville is carrying around this bucket of muck to throw out. But then he trips and pours it all over Ron. And Neville is red in the face and apologizing profusely. And in that minute he reminds Ron so much of his awkward, clumsy, but sweet friend. And Neville is still beet-red and it’s crazy to think that this is the same kid who slayed Voldemort’s last horcrux right in front of him. And it’s not that funny. But Neville’s face is, and Ron’s sure his face is too, and suddenly he’s laughing, uncontrollably so, and then Neville is laughing, too. They must look ridiculous, laughing so loud and for so long and covered in mud and leaves, and it’s really not that funny. But this might be the most he’s laughed since the funerals, and the Battle, and Harry’s resurrection, and Fred’s death, and Malfoy Manor, and that fucking locket. And that’s such a depressing thought that he laughs even harder.

And just like that, the tension breaks. There is still some silence. But it’s comfortable, and peaceful, and there’s something cathartic about mindlessly helping Neville pull weeds that have gathered around his garden. And sometimes they talk. Not about the war, but they don’t exactly avoid it either. They talk about friends and what they’re up to, and about old times, and about that mythology book that Luna won’t stop talking about and about that series that Hermione is watching with her parents as a bonding exercise. And Ron finds that when he makes a joke, he actually means it around Neville and isn’t just forcing one out. It’s surprisingly easy to talk to Neville the way it isn’t anymore around Harry and Hermione and especially his family. At least he doesn’t have to force a conversation around Neville. And it’s horrible to think about, and he hates that it’s true. But when Neville brings out a small vial of the toxin he extracted three weeks later, Ron feels something in his stomach churn.

So this is it, then. It’s a bit ridiculous, how attached he’s become to their herbology lessons over such a short time. But the thing is, he can breathe here. He can just be. And it’s ridiculous because he’s fine. He’s fine. It’s Harry who literally died and Hermione who was tortured and Fred who was killed and his parents who lost a son and George who lost a twin. And it’s selfish, so horribly selfish of him to enjoy being away from them like he has. To be laughing and joking around with his friend like everyone’s life hadn’t been ruined. But he doesn’t have to worry about Neville blowing up on him and he doesn’t have to force him to eat or force himself to smile or make a joke when all he wants to do is scream in order to make Neville feel better.

He’s a shit friend and son and brother, he knows.

So he mutters a thank you and grabs the vial, and he’s about to say his goodbyes, when Neville says, “I’ve been wanting to try some muggle gardening for a while. Do you want to help?”

And there’s something about the way Neville smiles at him, all bright eyes and dimples that makes Ron’s heart skip a beat. He smiles back and says, “Sure.”

And so for the next three weeks, Ron stops by during his lunch break to help. And damn, if it isn’t almost therapeutic. The whole heart-skipping-a-beat thing happens twice more, but Ron Doesn’t Think About It. Nor does he think about how stops himself from smiling like an idiot whenever Neville laughs at his jokes. Nor about how he almost dropped the shovel he was holding when Neville grabbed his arm once.

One day, Ron makes a very-offhand and totally not a big deal comment about this muggle restaurant Hermione was talking about and how they have specials every Thursday and how maybe they should go check it in a couple of days. And Ron doesn’t understand why his heart almost wants to jump out of his chest or why he’s terrified that Neville will say no. It’s just a friendly lunch.

Right.

But then Neville says, in a hesitant voice. “Actually, I was going to tell you... On Thursday we’re starting to fix up the east wing of school, so I’ll probably be staying longer because we need to assess the damage. I was going to ask, if maybe you wanted to...” His voice trails off and Ron’s mouth suddenly feels dry.

“I can help.” But his voice sounds strange to his own ears, and his heart is beating wildly in his chest, and not in the good way he had started to associate with Neville.

Neville looks startled at this, and says, “I was going to say that maybe we skip Thursday and you can continue helping me on Friday.”

“Why? You don’t think I’ll be useful? I can help.” He didn’t know why he was still talking or why he sounded so defensive, and he absolutely shut down the part of his mind that wanted to agree with Neville.

“That’s not what I meant. Ron, you don’t have to-”

“I’ll be there.”

And that was that. The rest of the day and the next were awkward, but on Thursday, Ron took the day off from WWW and apparated to Hogsmede in the morning. Neville looked surprised to see him, and Ron was annoyed because he was fine. Just Fine. He could handle being at Hogwarts again like everyone else rebuilding it. Nevermind that none of the Weasleys had stepped foot in the castle since the battle.

And he was fine. Within the first few hours. But then he and Neville and two hufflepuffs turned on a corner and Ron stopped breathing. All he could see was a fallen wall and his brother on the floor. And he could hear Percy wailing and the battle still raging. And he heard someone calling his name, but he wasn’t breathing. And he smelled the stench of blood and his was breathing in dirt and debris again and Fred’s eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing and he never would again and-

He felt himself being pulled from the arm and dragged away, but he kept his eyes trained on the floor and fought desperately to stop the tears from coming.

When he finally looks up, he sees he’s in an old classroom and Neville has a concerned look on his face. He still hasn’t let go of his arm, and Ron is glad for this.

“That’s where Fred died.” There’s no emotion in his voice, and Neville gives him a sad smile.

Then he sits right next to him, so close that their arms are brushing, takes his hand, and says, “Stop me if you want to talk.” Then he launches off into a story about the time he fell into a river when he was six, and then about the time he saw a unicorn when he was eight, and about all the times he and Luna would stay up after hours on Hogwarts grounds and talk about the different shapes they saw in the starry sky.

Ron let his head fall on Neville’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and let the tears fall freely down his face. He wasn’t listening to his words, but his voice was comforting, and he let it and the hand holding his tightly anchor him to the present.

Eventually, Neville stopped talking, and they sat there in silence. Ron didn’t know how much time passed before he lifted his head and said, “I’m okay now. I’m okay.”

Neville smiled that same sad smile and said, “I know. But you don’t have to be all the time, you know that?”

Ron nodded, and smiled back.

“So... do you want to talk about it?”

“Not now, but... Another day.” And Ron was surprised that he actually meant it. Neville squeezed his hand in return.

A few days before Neville went back to Hogwarts and Ron started auror training, they went to that restaurant. Not as a date. But when Ron leaned in to kiss the side of his mouth where there was a bit of chocolate on the corner, he couldn’t stop smiling when Neville kissed him back.

...

Was that supposed to be a summary?? OOPS. I had to cut it short because I have to run.

#lytefoot #ask game #warriorlid writes #nevron #ronnev #ron weasley #harry potter

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hopeymchope · 4 years

Text

Naegiri Week 2019, Day 4 - Plant

SURPRISE! I actually wrote a one-shot for Naegiri Week. IT’S A FESTIVUS MIRACLE!

Ah, at least if anyone cares.

There are ***SPOILERS for Kirigiri-Sou*** in this story. If you want to read that wild little “sound novel,” though, I strongly recommend you do so via @drmedicsgamesurgery‘s translation over here.

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In a nearly empty coffee shop on a rainy afternoon, Makoto Naegi and Kyoko KIrigiri sat across from one another in silence. Makoto fiddled with his cell phone occasionally. Kyoko pretended to be interested in the shop’s decor or in the people passing by outside, watching umbrellas bob past her view idly.

With a sad, forced smile, Makoto broke the silence first. He dropped his phone to the table between them and asked, “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

Kyoko finally looked at him, lowering her cup of coffee to give him a small nod. “A bit,” she admitted.

Makoto’s eyes fell to the table, avoiding hers. “It’s like... it’s like we’ve been friends for so long that I don’t know what’s supposed to be different.”

She kept her gaze fixed on him even as his own eyes began wandering. “I understand how you feel,” she agreed. “Perhaps we’re expecting something to change where it doesn’t need to?”

He looked at her sideways. “How do you mean?”

“I’m suggesting that when two people become so close and know one another for so many years... “ Kyoko paused, attempting to find the right words. “...then perhaps a transition to ‘dating’ is only minimally different from the time they already spent together.”

“No,” Makoto responded quickly, turning his head back to look at her directly. ”No way. That’d mean that we were such good friends that we were essentially automatically dating, and I refuse to accept that that’s a thing.” He threw up one hand in a half-shrug. “Like, how many of the days we’ve together are retroactively dates now? What’s the threshold for ‘automatic dating’? How close do you have to be? Is my sister ‘dating’ Fukawa-san now?”

Kyoko smiled tightly. “They already share an apartment and a bed, so... ?”

At that, he had to chuckle. “Okay, okay — bad example!” Makoto said, waving his hands and laughing. “Most friendships aren’t that close, I know. I just mean-”

“I understand,” Kyoko assured him, interrupting. Her voice and her expression both were soft when she continued, “And I didn’t mean to imply that we had already started dating months or even years before now because we achieved some vague friendship-maturation-date. I think you misunderstood me.” Setting down her coffee, she said, “I just meant that once you’ve shared so much of yourself with someone, perhaps it’s understandably hard to find new layers to add.”

His mouth tightened as he considered this. “So then... the act of saying that ‘we’re dating’ is the new layer?”

She tilted her head ever so slightly, looked bemused. “Well... I’d argue that declaring that you’re in a romantic relationship with someone should bring a natural increase in emotional intimacy.” She paused, reaching out to place one gloved hand on top of his own. “And physical intimacy, of course,” she half-whispered.

Makoto grinned at her touch in spite of the fact that her skin wasn’t even in contact with his. The act of casually touching one another still felt so fresh, so new that he still blushed intensely. He rolled his hand over to hold hers and said, “Just the emotional and physical stuff, huh? So I, uh, guess this means you already know most everything else about me... ?”

She shook her head once. “Not that it would matter if I did, but no. There’s no chance of that.”

He was skeptical. “I’m pretty much an open book,” he noted.

“In a lot of ways,” she agreed. “Yet you continue to surprise me with stories of your life experiences and in how you react to what your unusual luck throws your way.” She rubbed one of his fingers between her forefinger and thumb gently. “I’m positive that I still have many stories you haven’t heard, either.”

“All right,” Makoto said with a mischievous smile. Hopping out of his seat, he pulled his hand free of hers and stood up. As he kicked his chair aside, he pointed at her dramatically and announced, “I challenge you to tell me something I don’t know about you!”

Kyoko covered her mouth to stifle her quiet laugh. “I suppose that’s one way to guarantee that something new and different happens today.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Can it be anything at all, or are you looking for a certain type of thing?”

Dropping his hand to his side, he shrugged awkwardly. “I-I didn’t really have any specific ideas. Something personal? Maybe about your family? Or just something from one of your cases?”

“Hm,” was all Kyoko said at first. Her eyes once again traveled the room as she sought inspiration. Once she landed on a potted fern near the door, she said, “I can think of something that fits all of those criteria.”

(THE REST IS UNDER THE CUT)

“Great!” Makoto said, grinning. “So that means it’s something about your family that is also related to a case... ?”

Closing her eyes, Kyoko’s smile faded as she said, “Just remember that you asked for this.”

That was enough to make Makoto’s grin melt in an instant. “Uhhh, wha-wha-what do you mean?!”

“Only that this may be stranger than you’d imagine,” Kyoko replied. She folded her hands together. Utterly straight-faced, she opened her eyes and told him, “Once — for a very short time — I had a sister.”

At this, Makoto looked relieved. “You’re talking about Samidare-san,” he said, relaxing.

“I am afraid not,” Kyoko said. “I’m talking about a genetic sister.” She smirked slightly. “I had a twin who was... well, she was a plant.”

Makoto cocked his head at that, his eyes narrowing. “Now, when you say ‘plant’, you meeeaaan... what, exactly?”

She took care to speak clearly: “I mean that I had a twin sister who was, in truth, an organism that used chlorophyll and photosynthesis to generate nutrients within her body.”

A laugh emerged from Makoto reflexively, but both it and his smile faded in the face of Kyoko’s steely expression. A long moment of silence passed while he stood there and regarded her, his expression quizzical. Then, finally, he reached out and pulled the wooden chair closer to him, watching her the entire time.

“Okay... “ he said slowly. “Help me out here: Is this like a metaphor?” He lowered himself back to his seat. “Do you mean that your grandfather had a plant that he loved as much as he loved you? Or, y’know, maybe you had hedge at your family home that someone trimmed into the shape of you, so it was your ‘twin’, or—”

“Sadly, ‘no’ to both.” Kyoko said firmly. “Kyouka was her name, and she was a walking, talking, independent person who looked exactly like me as I did at the time.” Her eyes grew distant as she thought back. “To look at her, you’d never have known that she was made of plant matter. She grew as rapidly as someone might grow a weed.”

Though he was growing pale, Makoto still tried to laugh it off. “Yo-you’re dead set on tricking me, aren’t you?” he ventured. “This is... it’s a practical joke.”

With a slow shake of her head, she said, “Bizarre though it may sound, I promise that I am telling you the truth.”

There was a soft thonk-slap as Naegi’s arms and hands fell limply onto the table between them. He expression was one of confusion and shock, and his complexion looked sickly. “I... “ he said softly. Swallowing hard, he finished, “I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“If you think it sounds outlandish now, you can imagine my reaction to seeing it,” Kyouko said. “Someone had sampled my DNA and used it in a biological experiment to create a plant-based clone of me. Furthermore, she was one of a series of intended clones of Hope’s Peak students.”

Still stunned, Makoto asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell me about this before now?”

“A Kirigiri never makes an accusation without proof,” she said. “Even though I know what I saw and experienced, I have no evidence to support what I’m telling you. I only knew ‘Kyouka’ for a day before she was reduced to a shriveled-up network of roots and leaves. And without evidence, this is all nothing more than an outlandish story.”

Still stunned, Makoto shook his head and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Kyoko responded. “I made the decision to keep this to myself just as I eventually made the decision to stop searching for lingering proof.”

“N-no, I mean that I’m sorry you had to carry this alone,” Makoto said. He looked at her with sympathy as he reached out and put his hand over hers, returning her earlier gesture. “Seeing someone that looks like you — someone made from you, even, who you only know for such a short time before you seem them quickly wither and die right in front of you... it couldn’t have been easy.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Then you believe me?”

“Of course,” Makoto said without hesitation.

“I knew that you would,” she said back. “And I’m grateful.”

Makoto smiled back at her, and the two sat there for a while, staring into each other’s eyes. Kyoko rolled her hand over and took his in hers, giving him a slight squeeze as she did so. Makoto slowly exhaled a happy sigh.

.......................

“WAIT!” Makoto said, snapping back to reality.

“What?”

““I just realized you glossed right past a super-important detail,” he observed intensely.

Kyoko leaned forward. “Which is-?”

“Was she, like, evil?”

#naegiri2019 #danganronpa fanfic #naegiri one-shots #danganronpa #my writing #fanfic #danganronpa fan fiction #danganronpa fanfiction #naegiri week 2019 #naegiri week #naegiri #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #kyouko kirigiri #kirigiri-sou

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harleyquinnbluemoonlove · 4 years

Text

Welcoming the new Social Movement/Platform/Political Party in the World

Official Name: Blue Dog Bite Mafia 888 *BETA*

Owner/CEO/Founder/Dealer/Player/Delivery BAD B:

Current Name: Monica Gill FUTURE Name: Mercedes Lynnette Giovanni

Email: [email protected]

Current Financial Status: $0.00 ---- You may DONATE by using CASH APP Cash Tag #$bluedogbitemafia888

***MY CYBER FAMILY MUST ENSURE THAT DONATIONS ARE NOT HIGHJACKED/STOLEN****

BASIC IDEA/PLAN OF ATTACK/EXECUTION OR POSITIVE WORDS LIKE “LAUNCH”. We can issue an ATTACK or a LAUNCH CODE.

I will dumb it down a little bit. I am taking advantage of my position of power, now that I am a Celebrity in the World. Its the greatest feeling in the world, feels better than good sex and that is a hard thing for me to admit because I love some good, hot, sweaty sex and I’ve been going without for several weeks. I almost fell like a Nun because I cannot even pleasure myself because I was molested as a child by Lovie Price’s boyfriend “Frank Parker” a gasoline man from an early. I told Connie Price about it when I was 15 and her name at the time was Connie Dunford. It was the same day Brandie Ann Thompson said Curtis Triplett tried to rape her in the bathroom at the house In Frayser, Memphis TN. Brandie Ann in her hayday, resembled a youthful Cameron Diaz. Cameron Diaz dated Justin Timberlake once upon a time. She played in the move “The mask” and the mask was green. At the end of the movie, the dog put on the mask. You all know, when you wear that mask---you become a Shape Shifter, transforming into anything/anyone you think will grab the Hot or Not Rated #10 Woman’s ATTENTION/HEART/LOVE and will do anything, I mean anything to get it. The secret to my success is a compilation of everything good, bad, dirty, evil and let’s call it “The Struggle” or the “Human Experience”.

Old School (OS) Operating System (OS) Back to Basics (B2B) Brandie Thompson (BT) Barry Thompson (BT) Blue Tooth (BT) Brandie Smith (BS) Bull Shit (BS) Rent A Center (RAC) Roger Adren Crawford (RAC) $1K (RAK) Rags to Riches Richard Abernathy (RA) **secret boyfriend shh!!** Douche Bag (DB) or Douglas Belknap (DB) Thomas Jones (TJ) County Road (CR) Danny Thomas (DT) Deanna Thomas (DT) ... Trying to show you how I think period dot. In ya’ll are slow, period dot also equal two dots. You must have two dots to play connect the dots and draw the lines to illustrate inspiration into a masterpiece. The best pieces of Art are very old, have a solid reputation, and is properly curated to ensure it maintains its value for infinity times three.

Basically, you can get with my program, drink my Kool Aid, swallow your pride, do the right thing, if you have done something wrong, you really need to return to your basic religious beliefs what they may be, get right with yourself, because what you have done will come to light, exposed, we are moving on from there. We are, as a society going to change and deliver the children and the children’s children: a brighter future with more options, a limited amount of privacy, give them the world and see what they can accomplish with living in a world of positive vibes, beautiful colors, great music, entrepreneurship, dreams, and now, the little girls if we get married will truly believe in fairytales. This right here is whats up because we have an opportunity, once in a lifetime opportunity, to fix society, establish unity and peace, competition is good but everyone needs a chance to win sometimes to boost their confidence and pride. When there is monopoly or kingdom, it fosters the seven deadly sins, seven capital sins, and the seven cardinal sins, which is systemic to original sin.

Genesis clearly explains that certain things were created on certain days and back time was measured. You cannot just create a man or a woman. First, you need the Universe. Then, you need the Galaxy which creates Space. In Space, you have the moon, stars, sun, planets, black holes, asteroids, comets, shooting stars, orbit, gravitational pull. Here we are on planet Earth with 7 continents and 7 oceans. I like the number 8 because it represent a number, a symbol, and no limitations--infinity. My son was born on 3-8-03 weighing 8 pounds, 8 ounces and 19.5 inches long, color: BLUE, life: No sign of it. It took 10 minutes and PLEADING WITH THE LORD AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS SCREAMING PRAYING TO PLEASE GIVE HIM LIFE, I DON’T WANT TO HAVE GONE THROUGH 35.5 HOURS OF LABOR AND 7 HOURS OF HARD PUSHING WITH NO PAIN MEDICINE, NO EPIDURAL, GAVE BIRTH TO A STILL BORN BABY NATURALLY AND THE GOOD LORD ANSWERED MY PRAYERS AND THAT BOY CRIED AND WENT TO THE NICU AT BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL IN MONTGOMERY COUNTY, MARYLAND. ITS ALSO REFERRED TO AS “THE PRESIDENTS HOSPITAL”.

He is 17 years old, already a MASTERMIND and a Professional Gamer. He is so smart like me, that he had to design/build/code his own computer because there is not a computer on the planet that can keep up with his level of gaming. I saw a photo of it. Its a desktop computer with the case taken off the side--lit up with blue LED lights

It’s Confession Time and Holy Communion Time that means confess your sin, wrongdoing, break bread, eat bread, drink wine, not whine. No days off, no excuse, no immunity, no setups, no blame game, no liars, no stealing, checks and balances, no absolute power because absolute power fosters absolute corruption, which is why were in this position right now with COVID-19, Corona Virus.

I think one person needs a pardon because he has stayed on the job, even though he was originally lied to by the Feds. He deserves a pardon, record expunged, and an opportunity. I see great potential, just needs an opportunity, believe in himself, and have the courage to escape his own prison of gold diggers, groupies, fans, and whores.

In this triad, it is a rags to riches story times three. There is only 1 TRUE VERSION of ME, and its right here in Memphis TN, age: 41(Birth Cert).

To succeed in any sports game, you must be fit, educated, content with yourself to include your pros/cons/demons and knowledgeable & intelligent enough to know that I am certified True OG, I got your back no matter what because to me money ain’t a thing, fame fades just like stars, but loyal dogs do not turn on their master unless they are abused or hungry. I am a Blue AKC Royal Bloodline Pitbull, Staffordshire Terrier. Pitbull is the image you need to have in your mind when you think of ME.

#donations #loyalty #888 #TRUMP2020 #IG #WHISTEBLOWER ACT #RULES #ESPNSPORTS #RAPGODS #GREEKGODS #GOD #CLASHOFTITANS #THEGAME #THEROCK #GLUE #DOCTORS #LAWYERS #COWBOYS #DANCE #L.I.F.E. #LOVE #SM #EM

#NEED SOME COM[ANY AND VITAMIN D

BLUE, COME ON UNLESS YOU ARE “CHICKEN” “SCARED”

I PROMISE I WILL NOT BITE. BUT, I AM STARVING, LONELY, NEED MONEY TO CREATE AND LAUNCH MY DREAMS TO POSITIVELY AND EFFECTIVELY CHANGE THE WORLD WHICH WILL PLACE ME AND PRESIDENT TRUMP IN THE HISTORY BOOKDS. AND THE HISTORY BOOKS ARE GOING TO BECOME FACTBOOKS, AND HISTORY CLASSES WILL BE MANDATORY THROUGHOUT LIFE REGARDLESS OF AGE, POSITION, JOB, FINANCIAL STATUS BECAUSE THE BEST EDUCATION IS A “CONTINUOUS EDUCATION”. IF YOU DO NOT CONTINUE LEARNING, YOU BECOME RUSTY AND THEN, YOU CANNOT KEEP UP THE FAST PACED CHANGES OF ADVANCE TECHNOLOGY IN THE REAL WORLD AND IN THE REAL GAME OF LIFE.

RECOMMENDATIONS ARE AS FOLLOWS:

1. DONATE MONEY TO MY CAUSE ON CASH APP

$BLUEDOGBITEMAFIA888

DO NOT HACK MY PHONE OR MY LAPTOP, DO NOT HACK ANYTHING OR ANYBODY BC YOU CANNOT DO IT BETTER THAN U.S. BC U.S. CREATED THE INTERNET IN WASHINGTON DC AT THE PENTAGON CALLED “DARPANET” IN 1974. THE FIRST COMPUTER WAS AN APPLE, SECOND COMPUTER WAS MICROSOFT. A GOOD BRAND IS A HP WITH MS WINDOWS. I HAVE A BLUE HP LAPTOP STREAM, I HAVE A BLACK APPLE IPHONE 7. I AM ON A WIFI WITH A VPN THAT KEEPS GETTING DISABLED. THE SOUND ON MY PHONE DOES NOT WORK. I AM BACKING UP BOTH DEVICES AND GOING TO RESET TO FACTORY SETTINGS SO I CAN GURANTEE EFFECTIVE DIGITAL SECURITY.

2. I NEED COMPANY TO SIT WITH ME, DRINK WITH ME. I WOULD LOVE SOME JACK AND COKE OR A BUD LIGHT. I WOULD ALSO LOVE SOME FOOD THAT CONTAINS RED MEAT TO ASSIST ME WITH MY BLOOD PROBLEMS. BUDDY OR BLUE OR YO -- FIGURE IT AND SEND ME SOMEONE I KNOW. I AM TOO PRETTY AND TOO COOL TO BE CHILLING BY MYSELF WITH NO FOOD, NO ALCOHOL, NO MONEY, NO WEED, ETC.

3. SELF EVALUATE OR DO A PEER REVIEW/. SELF EVALUATION IS LOOKING AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR AND THINKING ABOUT YOUR LIFE. I LIKE TO WRITE THINGS DOWN, IF HELPS ME. IT WILL BRING ABOUT A SENSE OF UNDERSTANDING WHO, WHAT, WHY YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE, HOW YOU BECAME PERSON, AND DESIGN YOUR OWN ROADMAP TO BEING A BETTER PERSON AND OPENING YOUR HEART TO REALIZATION THAT THE CHILDREN ARE THE FUTURE, RIGHT WE ARE THE WORLD, WE CAN ACHIEVE GREATNESS, A NEW TYPE OF MAGIC “UTOPIA”.

WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT? WHAT DO YOU WANT OUT OF LIFE? ARE YOU HAPPY WITH YOURSELF? CAN YOU FREE YOUR MIND? CAN YOU OPEN YOUR HEARTS? CAN YOU COMMIT? DO YOU KNOW WHEN TO WALK AWAY? WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN? DO YOU HAVE CONFIDENCE? ARE YOU IN YOUR OWN PRISON--YOUR MIND, YOUR FEELINGS, YOUR RELATIONSHIP STATUS?

WISDOM COMES WITH TIME, EXPERIENCE, EDUCATION, HARD WORK, SERVICE, LOYALTY, PURPOSE, AND TRAVELING.

At the end of the day, who do you want to be with?

Woman - Wise can deliver the world or drop the world, age 41 -- looks better than 20 & 30 year old GIRLS. Does not care about money, fame, status, power because the game was scheduled and unfortunately, unaware of the OP -- she walked, ran, sprinted STOLE the Flag, and won the game.

Everyone wants to still run their mouths, try to control a man, and those hos, have no power, position, fame, etc. They are with or around you because of who you are, what you have done, and what you can give them---in my opinion that is abuse of power and targeting someone to manipulating them to do what you want them to do.

I like structure, things to be done a certain way because I like cleanliness, organization, faith, love, hope, trust, and loyalty.

I would not cop an attitude with everyone, if I did not feel like the world was against me. Hint, hint -- I don’t trust authority figures because I was molested, abused, targeted, almost died several times, lied to, cheated on, setups, smear campaigns, gossiped about, bullied, beat on, yelled at, called names, jealous women everywhere so dumb they forget I have a hunger against Human Trafficking. People are on this RACISM BULL SHIT.

Its 2020, Racism = IGNORANCE AND IGNORANCE IS NOT BLISS ANYMORE, IGNORANCE IS DEADLY.

Basic belief system of Karma, it is a metaphysical/paranormal reality that is mixed with real, artificial, and soon-to-be virtual reality. It is what it is.

What you set your mind, what you do and the thoughts and actions you put into the world will either grant you your dreams or come back times three by the of karma, what goes around, comes around.

I want/will do good and be a good role model for everyone. I am going to teach, help you, do what I want, when I want, how I want because I know my worth, my value, and what I can GURANTEE/DELIVER.

Greed, jealousy, laziness, and all the ugly things that are in the world

WILL

get you no where but hungry, lonely but free, penniless, candy-less, eliminate sports.

COMMIT OR QUIT

MY MISSION WILL ENDURE AND CARRY ON UNTIL I FEEL MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. I DO NOT HAVE A FAILURE TO THRIVE AND I DO NOT LACK A WILL TO LIVE.

MY ISNT OVER, YET;

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theeternalblue · 5 years

Note

Archie takes care of a drunk Veronica after a girls night and she starts to talk about what she wants for their future (kids, weeding)

Since you never mentioned they were together already...

“Whoops!” Veronica stumbles to her right in her way to press the button of the 11th floor to get to her apartment, but luckily Archie manages to wrap an arm around her waist and keep her upright – or at least in one piece.

She giggles, and he can’t help but chuckle.

Here is Veronica Lodge, his partner of many projects – the snobbish, hard-ass and gorgeous New York princess. She’s on her way to become one of the most sought-after interior designers, and he’s just the architect willing to follow her lead. They are still young, but the firm they work for has them already booking deals withimportant clients. Veronica wants to show off, make dreams come true, as she says. He just wants to get the job done.

They step out of the elevator, and when Veronica searches for her keys, she drops her handbag. He has to pick it up, or she’ll fall flat on her face.

The thing is, they’ve never been friends. They’ve been working together for almost two years, and sometimes have screamed their heads off while disagreeing about a project, butthey are usually cordial. Actually, he’s been to her apartment before, for work-related issues, which is the only reason why the doorman let him in with an intoxicated Veronica. Archie still earned himself a funny look.

“Give me the keys,” Archie says softly, trying to reason with her.

“No, I can do it.” Veronica frowns, and attempts to get the key in the lock, but before she canscratch the glossy black door with it, Archie catches her hand and takes the keys. “I can!” she whines, but he has already unlocked it, and is pushing her inside as he turns on the lights. She stumbles, but then grabs his forearm and kicks her expensive shoes off and away into her perfectly decorated living room. One ends up in the middle of the coffee table, almost knocking a vase full of sunflowers.

Archie almost cringes, but the vase doesn’t budge.

He has no idea why out of all people, Veronica called him to aid her get home. Her friends werealso in bad shape, and they were all getting rides with their partners or more sober friends.

“Are you okay? Can you get yourself into bed?” He asks while she blows her hair out of her mouth and snorts a laugh. “Veronica?”

“No!” She giggles again and sways to one side. “Yes, of course, Archibald.”

“You sure?”

She doesn’t say a thing, just nods affirmatively.

“Okay. I’m leaving now.” He turns around, and manages to get his hand on the knob, when he hears a loud noise behind him and sees she has fallen on her ass and knocked over a plant,dirt all over the floor. Archie heaves a sigh before going to her and picking her up. “Come on, Lodge.”

Veronica looks up at him, and smiles all softly. “Your eyes are so pretty.”

He’d laugh, or get nervous, but instead he only smiles. “Thank you. Now, be a good girl, let meget you to your room.”

She snorts a laugh. “Archiekins! You cannot get me to bed. Not yet.”

Now he does snort a laugh. He gets her up, but she’s not doing much walking, so Archie is quick to throw her over his shoulders. Hopefully, Veronica won’t remember any of this or he won’t hear the end of it for treating her like a sack of potatoes.

“Sorry, Ronnie. You’re wasted, so I’ll have to get you to bed.”

He hears her sigh. “Okay.” She pauses, and for a second he thinks she has fallen asleep, but then he steps into her bedroom, the big one at the end of the hall, so he assumes. “You have such a nice ass,” Veronica blurts out, and he does everything he can not to drop her. “Sometimes, when you’re checking the blueprints on the drafting table, I can’t get my eyes off your ass.”

And now he drops her. On the bed, but still. His cheeks get a little pink, but she’s smiling at theceiling in the middle of her comfy bed. Her shiny black hair is fanned over around her, and she looks beautiful and vulnerable. He’s just trying to be a gentleman, taking care of her.

“I want to pinch it.”

“Veronica,” he laughs, while trying to open the bed and just get her under the covers – clothes and all, he’s not going to undress her.

She props herself up with her arms. “You’re a beautiful man, did you know that? Handsome, sweet, hard-working. Hot. Strong arms. Nice butt.” She snickers, like a child doing mischief. “I’ve wanted to kiss you so many times. And last year, when you told me you had to ask me something while we were working on the Scharwtzmann project, I thought you would ask me out, and instead you told me to get youreservations for you and your girlfriend at one of my father’s restaurants. I was so mad.”

He feels his stomach drop. He remembers perfectly. Also, two months later, Val dumped him because he always chose work over her.

“You wanted me to ask you on a date?”

Sighing, Veronica flops back on the bed. “I still do. I look at you and think you’re the only manwho could ever understand me, because you’d be patient enough, because you know how my mind works even before I do. And I love that, how you get what I like and what I don’t like with one look, and that you learned how I like my coffee, and you have a blanket in your office for the late nights. Your office smells like cypress and pencils, and your plaid shirts are awful, and I love and expect them whenever we go to the sites.”

“Ronnie,” Archie mutters softly, easing her under the covers while he stares at her as if shewere under a new light. She’s still beautiful, smart, confident and a hard-ass, but now he can see that he was right – she does hide a softer side.

“I’d marry the hell out of you. And get pregnant,” Veronica scowls deeply, almost comically. “I never wanted to get pregnant for any other man, and lose my life and figure for them, but you’d be such a good dad. I know because of how you talk about yours.” Sheturns on her side, and for a second she looks sober. “We’d have three children, a girl and two boys. You would treat her like a princess, but also make sure she knew everything about building things just like the boys. And I’d make them stylish, and get mad at you for ruining their expensive clothes while playing, but it wouldn’t last long.”

Archie smiles at her. “Why is that?”

“Because we’d love each other,” she mutters, her eyes finally closing. “We’d be happy.”

Veronica curls up on her side and quiets down.

Archie looks at her for a minute, pulling the covers up to tuck her in.

---

After the eventful Friday night, Archie is in his office already working that Monday. He’s purposefully avoided Veronica, not wanting to embarrass her – or wrongfully get his hopesup, in case she doesn’t remember a thing. But soon, the petite designer is knocking on the door. He can see her through the glass door in her navy dress, silver necklace and pink cheeks – Archie’s never seen her look this shy before.

“Hi,” she greets him in a small voice. “I wanted to thank you about Friday night. And apologize in case I said something inappropriate.” Veronica is fidgeting, and Archie takes some pleasure in knowing she at least cares, that she’s probably curious about what truly happened.

“No problem,” he replies simply.

“Thanks for the water and the Advil.”

He smirks. “Sure. I’ve been in that situation before.”

“Right,” she says with more ease, as she takes a deep breath. “I trust you won’t tell anyone?”

“Of course. I didn’t get why you called me out of all people to rescue you, but I’m glad you did.” Archie stands up from his desk and walks around it, stand it before her, but then leaning back against the desk.

“I get chatty when I’m drunk,” Veronica whispers. No one needs to know what she does or not in her life outside the office, and he’ll keep that secret to himself.

“I’d say so.”

“Hopefully, I didn’t share something embarrassing?” Veronica’s dark brown eyes are big and bright on him, waiting expectantly.

“No,” he replies while a smile appears on his lips.

“Good, then I’ll go back to work,” she’s halfway on turning around to leave, when he stops her with just one comment.

“I also think three is a good number of children.”

#varchie #varchie fic #[mine]#who sent this? it got my mind working and i loved the outcome

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buckyscrystalqueen · 6 years

Text

The Wedding Date: Part 1

Pairings: Stripper!Chris Pratt x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 5,707

Aesthetic by @sorenmarie87

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every time you looked at the wedding invitation in your hand, you honestly felt sick to your stomach. The fact that she even invited you to the wedding blew your mind but the fact that she and your mother FORCED you to be the maid of honor… it was sickening.

“It’s not gunna change shape if you keep staring at it.” Your friend, Scott said as he purposely set a shot of vodka down on the invitation, even more purposely spilling a bit of it onto the ‘eggshell white and peacock blue’ color scheme. You glanced up at the bartender and let go of the card stock.

“I still maintain that she was put on this Earth to make my life miserable.” Scott tapped his nose in agreement as the women in the crowd of the strip club you were in screamed for the next act. You didn’t even look over your shoulder anymore, you just threw back your shot and snapped for another one.

You were the only woman in the entire building that wasn’t drooling over the half naked man behind you; the novelty of it wore off a long time ago. That’s what you get when your best friend (and really one of your only friends) is the bartender.

“What I don’t understand is how your own sister can marry your ex boyfriend after he cheated on you.” You tapped your nose as he poured you another shot.

“My mother says it’s my ‘blood duty’ to stand by her side, too.” You picked up your shot glass and held it in front of you with a smirk. “Here’s to hoping I don’t spill blood while doing my blood duty.” He picked up his glass of water and held it up to your shot glass.

“I’ll drink to that.” You both threw back your drinks as yet another dancer made his way up onto the stage. You still didn’t turn around as Scott poured you a coke so you’d be able to eventually drive when you were done hanging out.

“Are you sure you can’t come with me?” You asked sadly as you tilted your glass to splash the dark brown liquid on your ex-boyfriend’s name. You looked up at Scott’s sigh as he leaned on the bar in front of you.

“You know Stacy is due that weekend, (Y/N).” You nodded and ran your fingers through your long, brown hair.

“I know.” You sighed as tears stung your eyes. You ran your finger in a circle on the lip of your cup. “I just don’t want to have to do this alone, ya know? It’s bad enough my own fucking sister…” Your words caught in your throat and you shook your head. “It’s just a shitty situation.” He nodded as he leaned on the bar next to you and sighed.

“I know, babe, it really is. And you know if I didn’t have husband duties myself, I’d be there for you in a heartbeat, no questions asked.” You nodded as you took a big swig of your soft drink, missing the smile that spread across your friends face. “I know who you can take.” You glanced over at him as the woman began cheering again. Scott smirked over at you before pointing to the man who had just walked on stage.

Chris Pratt was the most popular stripper at the Candy Bowl; the best male strip club off the strip that always beat out even Thunder Down Under AND the Chippendales on a good night but never got the callouts at hotels like the others did. You totally understood why he was the favorite; he was six foot two with gorgeous green eyes and short brown hair. He always wore tight white shirts and sweats that left NOTHING to the imagination and you honestly believed his muscles had muscles.

“Are you crazy?!” You snapped as you turned toward the stage to watch him dance. “There is no way…”

“Hire him.” Your head whipped back toward your friend who shrugged. “Look, I’ve known him for years; he’s a good guy. But I know how you are. It’s all business with Miss Lawyer butt.” You glanced over at him out of the corner of your eye and rolled your eyes, causing him to chuckle. “I’m serious. He acts like your boyfriend for the week of festivities, you shell out a couple grand and you guarantee that you don’t end up alone at the wedding.” Your head tilted to the side as you watched Chris’ hips rock to the music on the stage. You had to admit, while it was absolutely insane, it wasn’t a half bad idea. With a scoff, you turned back toward the bar.

“I need another fucking shot for this shit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So this is my situation.” You explained as you sat back stage after Chris’ set. You forced yourself to not look at him as he sat in his skimpy bottoms and counted out the money he made that night as if it were no big deal. “I have a wedding in two weeks that I have no choice but to participate in. My idiot sister is marrying my ex-boyfriend. Now, I’ve been single for nearly nine years since they got together and I have…”

“My name is Chris.” You looked over at him as he sat in his chair and stared at you. “Do I even get to know your name before I let you go on?” A blush raced across your face as you crossed your legs and looked away.

“(Y/N). Now I would like…”

“Look at me.” You growled and looked back over at him as your face turned a deeper shade of scarlet. “Sorry but just because I’m nearly naked doesn’t give you the right to be disrespectful.” You nodded and cleared your throat.

“M-my proposition is this. A week long, all expenses paid trip to Italy and five thousand dollars for your time. You pretend to be my significant other and…” Your words were cut off as he burst out laughing.

“So… so you want to… hire me… to be your boyfriend for a weeding? Damn, never heard that one before.” You scoffed and got up from your chair.

“Just forget it.” You headed to the door, mumbling about how you were going to kill Scott, when Chris grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He said as he took a step back. “It’s just… I’ve heard a lot of shit in my days doing this but this kinda takes the cake.” You nodded as tears welled in your eyes.

“I-I-I wouldn’t ask… if I…” He nodded and put his hand on your shoulder.

“Hey. I get it, OK. I’ll help you.” You nodded your head and looked away, unable to face your reality.

“I assume you don’t own a suit.” You harshly brushed your tears away and forced yourself to look back at him. “Meet me here tomorrow at noon. I’ll take you to my guy to fix that. Do you have a passport?” He shook his head, realizing it was not the time to get smart with you and you nodded. “I’ll make some calls and we’ll get it taken care of tomorrow.” Without another word, you turned on your heels and walked out of his dressing room so he wouldn’t see the fresh wave of tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in the middle of Giorgio Armani with a cup of espresso in your hand as Armando, the man who always did your father’s suits measure your wedding date. You had a giant book of available suits and colors on your lap and you were trying to figure out which ones would match the dresses you already had.

“He’s a tall one. Muscular, too.” Armando said in Italian with a laugh. You looked up at the two men as you leaned your arm on the book.

“Do you still have that suit that you did for daddy for my graduation?” Armando glanced over at you and nodded slowly.

“I believe we do but I don’t know if that can be ordered that fast. Your friend is a little too tall.” You nodded in understanding as you looked back down at the book.

“You speak Italian?” Chris asked as you grabbed a sticky note and stuck it on a page of another suit you liked.

“That among others.” You looked up at him with a small smile. “You don’t have to pretend to get to know me.”

“What if I want to get to know you?” He cut you off with his eyebrow raised. You shook your head as you set your small coffee cup down on the table next to you.

“I’m not worth it.” He shook his head and stepped off the platform he was on to walk over to you.

“You are worth it. You just can’t see it yet. That, honey is my real job.” You rolled your eyes at him, instantly regretting it as your eyes landed on the skin tight wife beater he had on. You couldn’t rip your eyes away from his washboard abs and he chuckled. “You can touch it if you want. You are paying for it.” He whispered. You caught yourself and forced your eyes to his.

“You couldn’t get me to touch your abs for a million dollars, honey.” He nodded slowly as he studied you with the most beautiful green eyes you had ever seen.

“Well then. Better remove the temptation.” With a small shake of his head, he stood up and walked back to the platform with a new determination in his heart to get you to see what he did in you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So what was the name of your childhood puppy?” You glanced over at Chris as he leaned against the counter while you paid for the four suits you were rush ordering and the half dozen or so button down dress shirts and ties.

“Pongo.” He had been playing this game for the last hour; asking you everything from favorite color to least favorite season just trying to get you to open up. You were reluctant at first to answer but found that the longer you held out and ignored him, the more he turned on what you now referred to as his ‘heartbreaking puppy eyes’. Those, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t ignore.

“Mine was Bandana. He was all black except for this white triangle that looked like a bandana. Corny, right?” You shook your head as you signed the receipt, not even looking at the cost.

“Cute. Typical kid name, ya know?” He nodded as he picked up the bags of his new shirts and followed you out the door.

“Favorite ice cream?” You stopped and looked up at him as he nearly collided into you.

“Are you ever gunna quit?”

“Are you gunna loosen up and stop looking at this like a business deal and start looking at it like a possibly enjoyable experience?” You shook your head as you tucked your hair behind your ear. “I’ll stop when that happens.”

“Good luck with that.” You said as you turned on your heel and headed toward where your car was. You heard him laugh as he followed after you.

“I have faith. There’s something about you, (Y/N). It’s just a matter of you seeing it, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, I’m just a regular person just like everyone else. I just… you know, take my clothes off for a living where as you… don’t.” You glanced over at Chris in the back of the town car with a laugh as he shrugged. “Exotic dancer, lawyer. Same thing.”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to, I see it.” He laughed and nodded.

“If I had it my way…” He said as he leaned against the car door to look at you. “I’d open a dog rescue.” He looked down at his hands and shrugged his shoulder. “You’re actually making that dream possible.” He looked back up at you with a handsome, genuine smile. “Thanks for that, by the way. I’m sorry it’s such shitty circumstances but… I’m glad I’m helping you as much as you’re helping me.” He shrugged his shoulder and leaned back against the door once more. “Just gotta find a co-signer for the building and Romeo’s Redemption Animal Rescue is in business.” You nodded your head as you turned toward him.

“We pull this off where no one questions us, I’ll co-sign for you.” A smile lit up his face, making the gold around the pupils of his green eyes sparkle.

“You don’t have to do that.” He said despite the fact that his eyes told you he was grateful for the offer. You simply shrugged as your car pulled up to the Las Vegas airport.

“It’s like Scott said at the bar.” You looked away from him as you grabbed your purse and your carry-on bag. “You helping me is better than going to a wedding alone. Might as well return the favor.” You went to put the bag on your shoulder but he gently took the strap from you.

“I got it.” You looked back over your shoulder and he smirked. “What kinda boyfriend makes his girl carry the bags?” You couldn’t help but smile as you passed him the bag.

“Alright, Casanova. You win.”

——

“So, I have this.” You said as you pulled a manilla folder from your bag. “Figured since we have five hours on this flight and eight on the next we could…” Your words were cut off as you looked over at Chris. His eyes were wide open with child like wonder as he pushed the buttons on the screen in front of him. “Pssst.” His smile dropped and he looked over at you like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“I’ll make you a deal.” You said carefully as you handed him the envelope with a smile. “You humor me and learn slash answer these questions on this flight and I will leave you be on the next flight where first class is even better. That one’s seat’s lay down into beds so you can sleep the whole flight.”

“You know you’re ruining flying for me.” He said as he opened the envelope and pulled out the few pages. “Because I have so many places to fly to since this is my first time flying and all.” He cleared his throat loudly and pretended to adjust a nonexistent tie as you put your hand on the side of your face to hide your blush from the last few people boarding the plane.

“Etwas interessantes, um meiner familie von dir zu erzählen.” Your head whipped over toward him as he glanced over at you out of the corner of his eye. “Yea, I speak German fluently. Something interesting to tell your family.” You smiled and nodded.

“I am fluent in Italian as you know, French, and Portuguese. Just so you know a little about me, too.” He nodded as you handed him a pen so he could mark off the first question off the list.

“How did we meet?” He lowered the paper and cocked an eye brow at you. “What, strip club is too… low class for you?”

“Look at the next one.” You said as you moved his hand down so you could point to question three. “‘Are you really comfortable being introduced as Chris the stripper?’” You looked up at him and gave him a small smile. “Look, if you think a lawyer would be embarrassed to be dating a stripper, don’t be. You’re freaking gorgeous and no matter what your girlfriend does for a living she’d be lucky to have you. You have the option here to say you are anything you wanna be, including a dog rescuer.” He nodded as the pilot made the announcement that you were getting ready to take off. You sat back in your seat a bit but stayed facing Chris.

“Chris the dog rescuer. I really do like the sound of that.” You nodded in agreement as he looked over at you. “So how about, we met through our mutual friend Scott who I went to high school with. And I’m opening a dog rescue and I work at a bar off the strip. That way neither of us are technically lying. I would love to get rid of the stripper title, honestly.” You nodded in understanding as he crossed the two questions off the list.

“Remember what I said at the club, if you are uncomfortable with any of this, just tell me.”

“I know.” He picked the paper up and looked at the next question. “Go to karaoke song?” You sighed and nodded.

“Unfortunately, my sister thinks she is amazing at karaoke so we will be forced to endure at least one night of it.” He smirked as he crossed the question off the list.

“Just tell her I’d rather strip at the bachelorette party.” He glanced over at you out of the corner of his eye. “Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton or any thing by Tim McGraw.” You sighed in relief.

“Thank God, you’re a country boy. A man of my own heart.” He nodded as he looked over at you before closing his eyes as the plane took off. “Mine’s ‘Man, I Feel Like A Woman’ by Shania Twain.” You said as you put your fingers in his palm under his thumb. His body tensed as he grabbed your hand like it was a life raft. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as he held his breath.

“I don’t like it.” He said as he shook his head.

“It’s almost done.” He nodded and gripped your hand tighter for a few moments before the plane leveled off. “See, you’re done. And you only have to do it three more times and then never again if you don’t want to.” He groaned as he loosened his grip on your hand only slightly but he didn’t let it go. With a nod, he picked the list back up and took a deep, steadying breath.

“‘What makes you feel most alive?’ Not fucking flying, that’s for sure.” He absentmindedly began to tap his thumb on the back of your hand as he looked at the ceiling. “Honestly, making people smile. Whether that may be because of my dancing, or when I volunteer on those puppy adoption days outside the pet stores.” He glanced over at you. “Oh yea, I do that, too if I’m not at work or out with friends. I try to volunteer with them once a month. That’s why I want to open a rescue.”

“Damn, you’re just like a saint, aren’t you?” He chuckled and shook his head as he fiddled with your fingers.

“I am so far from a saint.” He blushed as he looked down at your entwined hands before he carefully let you go and pulled his hand back. “Sorry.” You shrugged as he looked back up at you.

“We’re supposed to be a couple, right? Might as well get used to pretending.” He nodded and picked up the paper in one hand and your hand in the other. He laced his fingers with yours and you couldn’t help they way your stomach flipped.

“Alright, next question.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“OK, so Tara is your sister. She’s marrying the prick named Rick.” You nodded in confirmation as Chris listed off the members of your family he would need to know as your boyfriend on his fingers. “Your mom, who we don’t like, is Sara Beth, step dad, who is alright, is Daniel, your favorite parent is your dad, Doug, your step mom aka the trophy wife we aren’t a fan of but who we tolerate is Anne…” He glanced over at you and shook his head. “Lot of freaking people.”

“Yea, imagine what it’s like to go through Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Yea, I bet. That’s why I’m glad my parents are still together. Then we have the quiet baby of the family, Keith, his high school sweetheart, kind wife Melissa and their three kids, Kyle, Emily and… John?”

“James.” You yawned as he draped his arm over your shoulder. He pulled you into his side and instinctively kissed the top of your head as the cab driver brought you to your hotel. You could feel tears welling in your eyes as the slights of your favorite city in the world flew past the window.

“This is where I wanted to get married.” You said softly. You felt Chris’ arm tighten around you as you continued. “We traveled a lot growing up. I always loved Rome so much. Tara…” Your tears fell on his shirt and jeans as he rested his cheek on the top of your head in silent support. “She always used to say she wanted to get married in Paris… until Rick… those two managed to take… everything.” You felt Chris’ arm move to yours and he gently sat you up and turned you toward him.

“They didn’t take everything, sweetheart.” He said gently as he reached up to brush your tears away. “They didn’t take your smile, I’ve seen that plenty of times in the past… I think it’s been 24 hours but I don’t even know what time zone we’re in any more so I could be a little off on that.” You huffed a laugh as a small smile spread across your face. He returned the smile and pointed at you.

“See, there it is. They didn’t take that. They didn’t take your kind heart because if they did, you wouldn’t have agreed to help me with my rescue. They didn’t take away your…. Um… your voice unless I learned how to read lips really well somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.” Your smile got bigger as a giggle slipped from your lips and he shrugged. “Yea, so I’m reaching here. But look, they didn’t take anything from you. If anything, they set you free. Obviously, the prick is a piece of shit and your sister… well, I know she’s family but I’m sorry to say, she’s a shitty person, too. And you deserve more than that, ya know?” You nodded in agreement as he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Besides, if you had married the prick then how would we have met? I bet I am much more fun than that douchebag on my worst day. I am a stripper after all. I got moves.” You giggled and nodded as he moved his hand away from your chin and pulled you back into his side. “And I hold your hand when we fly. Bet he didn’t do that.” You burst out laughing and looked up him through your lashes.

“I wouldn’t be proud of that if I were you.” He shrugged his shoulder, purposely bouncing your head.

“I am very proud of that. That’s boyfriend status right there.” You rolled your eyes and sat up as the cab pulled up to the curb of the Hotel de Russie. You thanked the cab driver and paid him as Chris grabbed the bags from the floor. You didn’t even have the cab door open for two seconds before the shrill shriek of your step-mother’s voice screaming your name woke you up better than any cup of coffee could. You looked over at the young, 5 foot tall, bottle blonde with massive fake tits curtesy of your father and groaned to yourself.

“You’re finally here!” She squealed as she dropped her ever present Virginia Slim on the ground and ran over in her higher than sky-high heels. You braced for impact as she practically threw herself into your arms. “Oh, I’ve missed you!”

“Hi Anne.” You said calmly as you tried to pull away from her death grip. It took her a moment before she got the hint and let you go. She pouted out her bottom lip and put her hand on your shoulder.

“Oh sweetheart. This should be your wedding…”

“Anne, let me introduce you to my boyfriend, Chris.” You stepped away from the cab to let Chris out. You smirked as you watched Anne’s jaw drop.

“Well I’ll be damned.” She whispered as she took a step forward. “Look at you, handsome.” She reached her hand up to touch his chest but you side stepped in front of her.

“My daddy inside?” You asked sweetly as Chris put his hands on your hips and stepped around you to grab the bags from the back. You watched her watch him for a moment before she nodded at you.

“Yea, he’s inside. You’re the last to arrive other than your cousin, Julie.” You nodded as you glanced over at Chris. With a dismissive smile back at Anne, you stepped over to your date and laced your arm with his.

“They’ll take care of the bags, honey.” He glanced down at you as he set your last suitcase on the cart. You handed the employee a decent tip and gently led Chris toward the door.

“This is insane.” He said as his eyes danced around the lobby. You looked up at him and your feet stopped walking at the look of shock and fear on his face. He looked down at you and shook his head. “I don’t belong here.” You quickly glanced around and pulled him over to a empty bench along one of the walls. You both sat down and you took his hands in yours.

“You do belong here.” You told him softly as you laced his fingers with yours. He squeezed your hands tightly as he looked up at you. “You belong here with me. We’re the two misfits of the party, remember?” He nodded slowly as you moved both his hands into yours so you could cup his cheek.

“Look, you’re tired, you’re out of your element, I get that. But I brought you here for a reason. I have zero intention of leaving your side for longer than a bathroom break, OK. And think of it like this, your like that guy from the Titanic; Leonardo DiCaprio. Yea I’m gunna drag ya to some fancy-schmancy rich people shit but you can bet your ass I’m showing you my favorite dive bar. We got this, you and me.” He nodded as the fear almost completely disappeared slightly from his eyes.

“Yea… yea, we got this.” You smiled and kissed his cheek before standing up to head over to the desk. Chris kept his hand laced with yours as if you would disappear if he let go. You got the two of you checked in to your Executive Suite; opting to take one that was a floor above the rest of the wedding party and a room facing the Pincio for your guest. You headed to your room quickly in hopes that you wouldn’t run into any of your family just yet and breathed a sigh of relief when you heard the door close behind you.

“Think you could rush me here any faster?” Chris teased. You smirked up at him as his jaw dropped at the view. “Oh, my God… Look at this!” With a nod, you followed him past the bathroom and the bedroom to the lounge. “This… this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.” You leaned on the wall of the hallway for only a moment to watch your new friend open the floor to ceiling glass doors overlooking the city before the hotel staff knocked on the door with your bags.

“I got it.” You said with a smile as you turned around to let the ‘kid in a candy store’ enjoy the view you had seen plenty of times before. You pulled open the room door to let the bellhop in and your jaw dropped. “Daddy?”

“Think you have enough luggage, princess?” You giggled as you jumped into his arms.

“I blame my daddy for spoiling me all these years.” He set you down and pouted as he walked into your room so the hotel staff could begin unpacking your luggage.

“Well my little Queen deserves the very, very best.” He held up a bottle of vodka and a liter of coke as you headed toward the lounge. “Figured you need this as much as I do.”

“No. Way.” You glanced up at Chris as he pointed at your dad. “That’s…” A blush crept across your face and you nodded.

“Yea, my daddy was the drummer for CCR.”

“We don’t talk about it. Ever.” Your dad said as he sat down next to you on the couch. “Asshats don’t deserve the time of day.” Chris nodded as he sat down on a chair right next to you. Doug poured three shots and passed them out with a giant smile. “Here’s to the fact that my pride and joy isn’t the one marrying that fucking tool this weekend.” Chris snorted as the three of you touched glasses and tossed back the strong liquor. Your dad chuckled as he poured another round.

“So where did you pick this one up?” You glanced over at Chris with a smirk.

“Strip club.” You watched your date blanch as you sat back on the couch. “You should see him dance. Best in Vegas.”

“Wait…” Chris started and Doug held up his hand to stop him.

“Im guessing if my daughter never told you who I was, then you don’t have the full story on our family dynamic yet.” He handed Chris a shot and shrugged as he looked over at you. “Parents aren’t supposed to pick favorites but (Y/N) is definitely mine. Her bother and sister, shit I’m not even 100% positive they’re mine. My lyin’ ex was quite the floozy.”

“Daddy.” You said warningly as you looked over at him. He simply rolled his eyes, handed you a shot to essentially shut you up and continued.

“Now my baby girl here, she’s all me. No doubt in my mind. Her mother and I were just starting to get rocky when we had her. I used to bring her everywhere with my like those rich sluts with those damn pocket dogs. She was my little Queen. I gave her the world and then some and my wife wasn’t a fan. For five years, Sara Beth was jealous of her own daughter before she had Tara, hoping that I would share my love again. Only problem is…” He pointed up at his hair. “I’m a brunette. So how’d I make a blonde baby girl?”

“Daddy…” You warned again as he threw back his shot and poured another round.

“I did right by Tara. Claimed her as mine, same with Keith and I love all three of my kids… But in my mind, (Y/N) is my only child. Her mother has always been jealous of her which is why this fucking monstrosity of a wedding is happening and why my little Queen is forced to be the maid of honor to her stuck up sister and her piece of shit ex. Fucking bitch.” He tossed back another shot and gestured at you. He exhaled the fumes and got up to get cups for the soda from the bar. “Now, I talk to my little Queen every single day. If she was dating someone, I’d’a known about it. Last I knew, she was coming alone but I guessed I missed the memo that you’d found a date.”

“It was changed literally last minute. I… um…” You glanced over at Chris, slightly embarrassed to admit it and he gave you a small smile.

“We came up with a friendly business arrangement.” He said carefully. “She needed a date, I needed someone with clout to sign for a dog rescue I want to open.” Your dad nodded as he pushed two glasses of soda across the table and leaned back on the couch.

“You help my baby girl with this and consider yourself financially backed for the first year you’re open. Anyone who helps my little Queen is helping me and deserves the help in return.” He sat forward and stuck his hand out to Chris. “Thank you.” Chris blushed and nodded.

“Thank you, sir. (Y/N)’s definitely one of a kind.” Doug chuckled and nodded as he leaned back and put his arm on the back of the couch behind you.

“That she is, son. That she is.” He reached down and twirled a strand of your brown hair around his finger before letting it fall against your messy bun. He leaned forward to grab his soda. “So what’s the story?”

“The truth. Met him through Scott at the bar he works at off the strip and he’s opening a dog rescue.”

“That way we keep it as close to the truth as possible.” Chris chimed in.

“Sounds good to me. No holes.” All three of you nodded. “So I assume you two want take a nap and freshen up? What do you say dinner with just the four of us tonight at that little local place you like.” You couldn’t stop the scowl that crossed your face as you looked over at him.

“Does she have to come with us?” Your dad’s face hardened slightly as he looked over at you.

“You be nice, missy. Anne is a nice woman.”

“Who will lose a hand if she tries to touch my date again.” Your dad sighed.

“Yea, she’s still touchy feely and she’s still an airhead but that woman sucks like a Hoover.”

“Daddy!” You screeched as Chris choked on his drink. Doug chuckled as he stood up and kissed your forehead.

“What?” He shook Chris’ hand once more and headed toward the hall. “I’ll come get you for dinner at 6.” You rolled your eyes and poured yourself and Chris another shot as the sound of your dad’s slightly sloppy Italian floated down the hall and out the door as he tipped the staff for you.

“I’m gunna need a whole bucket of this shit to get that fucking image out of my head.”

Part 2

#Chris Pratt x Reader #The Wedding Date

34 notes · View notes

fcrtiers-blog · 6 years

Photo

@gogreekpoints

( &&. general information )

full name: charlotte elizabeth fortier

pronunciation: shar-lot

nickname(s) or alias: charlie, char

preferred name: charlie

current age: twenty-one

astrological sign: sagittarius

element: fire

title: miss

label: the halcyon

gender: female

preferred pronouns: she & her

sexual preference: bisexual

romantic preference: biromantic

resides in: princeton, new jersey

current occupation: student

language(s) spoken: english

native language: english

current marital status: single

( &&. background )

reason behind name: charlotte was her maternal grandmother’s first name and elizabeth is her paternal grandmother’s middle name

birth order: she is the youngest of three siblings

ethnicity: caucasian

nationality: american

religion: agnostic

political views: liberal as fuck

financial status: upper middle class

iq: 127

hometown: georgetown, washington, d.c.

( &&. physical appearance )

looks like: phoebe tonkin

height: five feet and ten inches

weight: a hundred and forty pounds

shoe size: eight and a half

figure/build: lean, slightly muscular

hair colour, Dyed?: brunette and no

hair length: medium length

eye colour: hazel

shape of face: square

tattoos: ‘joy’ in scribe on her wrist. a dainty sternum tattoo of two sprigs of lavender

piercings: ears are triple pierced with her cartilage

birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: n/a

dominant hand: left

if painted, what color are their nails/toenails?: it stays in the gray family, ventures into lavenders sometimes.

usual style of clothing: hipster skater chic vibes that is most likely hella comfy as well (lol does that even make sense)

frequently worn jewelry: two personalized rings on her middle finger with her first and middle name on it. a dainty gold necklace with her siblings’ initials on them

what is their speaking style (fast, monotone, loquacious)? insanely loquacious, although there are moments (aka that high life) she’s just insanely mellowed out and talks quite... slow.

describe their scent: she usually smells of citrus???

describe their posture: usually in a slight slouch

( &&. legal information )

birth name: charlotte elizabeth fortier

any speeding tickets?: one from driving in northern virginia (true story. me af. fuck u nova)

have they ever been arrested?: nope

do they have a criminal record?: no

have they committed any violent crimes?: no

property crimes?: no

traffic crimes?: no

( &&. medical information )

blood type: o positive

date/time of birth: december fifth, 1995 / 2:49 am

place of birth: washington, d.c.

vaginal birth or cesauren section?: vaginal

sex: female

diet: somewhat healthy... not really. hella junk food on occasion

smoker? / Drinker? / Drug User?, Which?: no / yes, socially / yes, mostly marijuana but the occasional psychedelics (shrooms, lsd, etc).

addictions: none

allergies: none

do they get occasional checkups?: yes

ever broken a bone?: no

hospital visits, what for?: torn acl when used to play soccer in high school

any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: none

any medication regularly taken: none

( &&. personality )

direct quote from them: “wanna go hang on the rooftop?”

positive traits: independent, understanding, charismatic, adventurous

negative traits: sarcastic, stubborn, hedonistic

likes: naps, fluffy sweaters, corgis, weed

dislikes: sour candies, breadsticks, roller coasters

fears/phobias: heights

hobbies: crocheting (hit up ya girl for hats and scarves in the winter)

guilty pleasure: watching reality tv aka the challenge

regrets: not telling a certain someone that she loved them

turn ons: being dominated, also the being dominant

turn offs: cockiness, little to no hygiene upkeep

lucky number: 13

pet peeves: when people who just ordered move to the front of the counter when there is a large crowd still waiting for their own food??

their motto: here for a good time not a long time

( &&. favourites )

food: pizza

drink: water

fast food restaurant: five guys

flavour: cherry

word: moist

colour: black

clothing: flannels

accessory: rings

candle scent: the winter candle from bath & body works

store: h&m

instrument: guitar

game: any of the pokemon games minus pokemon go

animal: kangaroo

holiday: christmas, duh

season: winter, also duh

book: milk and honey by rupi kaur

artist: ella mai

band/group: the eagles

song: take it easy by the eagles

movie/film:

tv show: the challenge (she’s a slut for reality tv tbh)

sport: baseball

sports team: philadelphia phillies

school subject: maths

possession: her rings that were given to her by her parents

number: 11

emoji: shady eyes emoji

mythological creature: pegasus

person: @gtglayla

( &&. skills )

talents: does balancing a spoon on your nose count??? or

ability to drive a car? Operate any other vehicles?: loves driving. will drive if you don’t want to

can they ride a bike?: yes

do they play any sports?: used to play soccer until she tore her acl

anything they’re bad at?: singing and drawing???

do they have any combat training? Why?: no, bc no?

( &&. firsts )

childhood memory: being pushed into the pool by her older brother

crush: paisley anderson in the third grade

email address: [email protected]

job: cashier at dairy queen

phone: sidekick

computer: imac

kiss: paisley anderson in the third grade ;))))))

love: natalie dent @tfnatalie

sexual experience: prom in the eleventh grade

( &&. childhood )

best childhood memory?: when she watched her little sister beat up some kid for making fun of her twin. she was going to hold her back, but y’know didn’t want to elbowed in the face

worst childhood memory?: losing her first soccer game. damn, that day was just awful.

what were they like as a child?: she was really curious, constantly bugging her parents with questions and just won’t stop until she was actually tired.

any crushes growing up?: several. her first was paisley anderson from the third grade.

did they know/like their parents?: she absolutely adores her parents

worst influence on them as a kid?: older cousins. they were the ones that taught her what weed was

did they have a lot of friends?: yeah, the girls on her soccer team were her closest friends

were they heavily punished?: not really? her parents were pretty lax about rules.

anything they wish they could cut out?: not really

were they more feminine or masculine?: she was slightly more masculine than feminine

were they an early or late bloomer for puberty?: late bloomer for sure

do they still know any of their childhood friends?: sadly, no

( && this or that )

expensive or inexpensive tastes?: expensive

hygienic or Unhygienic?: hygienic

open-minded or close-minded?: open-minded

introvert or extrovert?: extrovert

optimistic or pessimistic?: optimistic

daredevil or cautious?: daredevil

logical or emotional?: emotional

generous or stingy?: generous

polite or rude?: polite

book smart or street smart?: street smart

dominant or submissive?: dominant

popular or loner?: loner

leader or follower?: leader

day or night person?: night

cat or dog person?: dog

closet door open or closed while sleeping?: closed

( &&. family relationships )

father: peter ynes fortier

describe their relationship: she has a great relationship with her father. honestly between her mother and him, she is closer to her dad. he was the one to feed charlie’s curiosity about the world around her. he was also the one to encourage her to do whatever she loved.

mother: juniper marie scott-fortier

describe their relationship: she simply adores her mom. she was always there for every soccer game that she had. cheered her on through things that charlie didn’t even know that she needed to be cheered on for. she was always so loving and tender, understanding and kind.

brother: austin wyatt fortier

describe their relationship: her older brother is somewhat of an asshole?? but he’s the kind of person that would risk anything for his family. quite the character actually. he’s off in new york doing his own thing and making sure that no one is messing with his younger sister. and she basically does the same for him... in a less agressive way.

sisters: chloe anne and cassandra lee fortier

describe their relationship: the beloved twins of the family. she would say that they’re pretty close. although, they’re still in high school and sometimes... charlie can’t really relate to them??? teenagers man.

significant other: tba

( &&. other relationships )

best friend: layla evans

childhood friend: tba

enemy: tba

past romances: natalie dent, tba

pets: luna & shadow (her corgis)

roommate(s): tba

( &&. social media )

do they have a Facebook? Twitter? Instagram? Vine? Snapchat? Tinder/Grindr? Tumblr? YouTube?

if so; Name on Facebook: charlotte fortier

twitter handle: @char_fortier

instagram user: @char_fortier

vine user: RIP VINE

snapchat user: charliebitme

name on Tinder: charlotte fortier

tumblr URL: n/a

youTube channel: n/a

( &&. musical tastes )

Theme song: honey by kehlani

Can relate to: she don’t by ella mai

Makes them happy: sunday candy by chance the rapper

Makes them sad: we find love by daniel caesar (actually anything by daniel caesar gets her in her feelings???)

Makes them dance: wannabe by the spice girls

Loves the most: sam smith. literally.

Describes them: fine by vada

Never gets tired of: ain’t it fun by paramore

Would like to be played at their wedding: best part by daniel caesar

Would like to play at their funeral: promises by jhene aiko

( &&. miscellaneous )

Do they have a fake I.D.?: yes

Are they a virgin?: no

Describe their signature: there are only two distinct letters in her signature, one being c for charlotte and the f for fortier

How long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse?: probably not that long. i see her being killed in the first two days or so

Do they travel?: she loves to travel. last summer she went on a cross country road trip with her brothers

One place they would like to live: paris, france

One place they would like to visit: seoul, south korea

Celebrity crush: hayley kiyoko

What can you find in their pockets/wallet/purse: a hair tie / a two dollar bill / two packs of gum, her wallet, random makeup products, and lotion

Place(s) your character can always be found: rooftop of the pi gamma house, in the library

When does your character like to wake up?: honestly??? noon.

What’s your character’s morning routine?: wake up, scavenge for breakfast, go take a shower, throw on some clothes and pat on some makeup

What does your character eat for breakfast/lunch/dinner?: usually cereal or some eggos / skips lunch on most days??? but probs might ask someone to go to chipotle or something / dining hall anyone???

How does your character spend their free days?: smoking, napping, reading

What’s your character’s bedtime routine?: if she has the time to, she’ll take a bath and do a face mask. but if not, she just takes off her makeup and washes her face.

What does your character wear to bed?: typically an oversized shirt and just underwear

If your character can’t fall asleep, what are they thinking about?: a shit ton of things. what does her schedule look like tomorrow? what work she has to do? any emails that she has to get back to? all types of shit. random shit too. what are millenials really doing with their time? how effective is the sushi making contraption tube thing?

What has been their greatest achievement?: graduating as one of the valedictorians in high school

What or who is the greatest love of their life?: natalie dent

Most marked characteristic: honesty

How would they like to die?: peacefully and in her sleep

Do they snore?: no

Do they chew their pens/pencils?: no

Can they curl their tongue?: no

Can they whistle?: yes

Do they believe in the supernatural?: no, ghosts aren’t real wth *cue shane impersonation*

Have they ever cheated on anyone?: never

Have they ever been cheated on?: no

Has anyone ever broken their heart?: yes

Have they ever broken anyone’s heart?: no not that she knows of

Are they squeamish?: no

Have they ever killed anyone? Why? How?: no

Have they ever seen anyone die? What happened?: no

Are they a lightweight?: definitely not.

#gogreek:task #i want to die #this took literally forever #wow

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arcanecaster · 7 years

Text

Chasing Souls - Chapter 1

Genre: Supernatural

Rating: T

Warnings: Abuse (Just one really hard slap); death mention

Words: 1859

Notes: The real story picks up, and we meet our main characters!! also, this is only my second draft of my story, so please be gentle, but if you have suggestions, please pm or inbox me! Carston High School had to be the lowest scoring school in the entirety of the state of Michigan. So it wasn't hard to get in the top 25 of the senior class for Satin Coller. She quietly chewed the rock hard toast that the school handed out as "breakfast" and looked at the number 15 out of 134 kids in her class on her report card. She could've easily been number one if she tried her best, but she was going to get the scholarships her parents wanted her to get, so who cared?

Satin put down the toast and picked up her phone, scrolling through the news. All she saw was the usual depressing statistics about the homeless and constant coverage of the war in the Middle East, so she sighed and put her phone back down next to the inedible toast, rubbing the red ribbon she wore around her neck.

“Need me to throw that away?" someone asked.

Satin jerked her head up to see a familiar smirk. A wiry teen boy, with black hair that was cut a decent length except for the bangs, which swooped and covered half his face. The ends were dyed green. Allan Walker, Satin's boyfriend. Allan Walker was a slacker, and most people, including Satin's parents, thought he wasn't good enough for her. He pulled about a C average in school, and made no effort to participate in any extracurricular activities. However, Satin found that he had a certain bad boy charm about him. Even though they had started dating in the fall of their junior year, she had never been to his house. When she had asked about why he never invited her over, he had mumbled something about "parent problems" and left it at that.

"You changed your hair," Satin said with a bit of a surprise. He had the bangs dyed red their whole relationship.

"Well duh," he said, tossing the toast and sliding into the seat next to her. "We're going on a date tomorrow. It's our one year anniversary. Remember?"

"I remember," Satin replied, and she grinned, "But how do you know I don't have plans?"

The comment stung a bit, but Satin had gotten used to Allan's… straightforward nature. And it wasn't like he was wrong. She spent most weekends alone reading, studying, or with Allan.

The bell rang and Allan got up. He pointed fingerguns at her as he walked away.

“7 o' clock sharp tomorrow, girly, I'm gonna pick you up."

Satin smiled. Something in his eyes told her he was planning something special.

Satin hated Calculus with a passion, but she was unfortunately blessed with a high enough test score test score to get stuck in second period Calculus for the whole senior year. It was only November, but she already had the dreaded senior-itis. Most nights she spent talking to Allan on the phone or just plain procrastinating, which dragged her grade down to a borderline C. Satin shrugged off the fact and assumed that if she picked up the slack in the second semester, she would get her scholarships and her parents wouldn't be too angry.

She was more focused on tomorrow right now anyways. Even now, she was glancing up at the clock between problems. This day couldn’t get longer….

When Satin finally stepped out to the parking lot, feeling free as a bird, she was surprised to see Allan pulled up in his rusty old Dodge Charger. She blushed a bit as she slipped in the front seat. It was rare for him to wait for her.

“I thought the date was tomorrow,” she said, shifting in the cracked leather seat.

Allan grinned at her.

“Can’t I be a gentleman sometimes?”

“I’d prefer you’d be a gentleman all the time.”

He shrugged as he shifted the stick into first gear.

“You know I’m not that kind of guy.”

Satin sighed and leaned into the leather, letting it cradle her as she watched their school disappear into the distance as Allan pressed his foot to the gas. An enjoyable sight to start off the weekend. As they drove, her eyes rested on Allan’s hand on the stick shift. As he pushed the stick into third, Satin saw sunlight reflect off his bracelet. For as long as she’d known him, he always had that bracelet on. It was made of silver and in the shape of a rattle snake wrapped around his wrist. The scales were so intricately carved if it had moved Satin would’ve believed it was real. Satin’s mind wandered to the first time she had asked about it, when they were getting ready for junior prom last year.

“Oh come on, Allan, you’re in a tuxedo. You can’t wear that thing to prom! Why do you always wear that thing anyway?” she had asked.

“Why do you wear that stupid bow on your neck all the time?” he had shot back.

Satin had simply rubbed the ribbon nervously and replied, “I have my reasons…”

“Exactly. So don’t ask again and I won’t either.”

And that had been the end of it.

“We’re here,” Allan said, snapping Satin out of the uncomfortable memory.

She opened the door and Allan smiled at her. “See you tomorrow, sweet cheeks.”

Satin smiled back. “See you,” she said happily, and she got out of the car. Allan had gotten better lately… she couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

Satin only regretted procrastinating in class a little as she did her Calculus work at her personal desk. She had to push aside all her checked out novels that littered the desk to make room for her Calculus book. At least she had something to do to pass the time until tomorrow, terrible as it was. There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Satin called out.

The door cracked open and Satin’s mother poked in. She was a woman in her late thirties with short, tawny brown hair, the same color as Satin’s but cut in a pixie cut, caramel colored eyes, and a plump frame.

“Hey, sweetie! How are you doing?” She asked, staying hidden behind the door. She had that excited little tone in her voice that told Satin that she was about to spring something on her that she thought was going to be amazing.

“Good….” Satin answered cautiously, bracing herself.

Without hesitation, her mother cooed, “Good, good, my day was great, whatever- I got something for you today!”

Her mother stepped out from behind the door, holding an black, short, strapless dress with short sleeves and a pair of black boots that had red straps. Satin could already see the dress was going to be form fitting and pulled her sweater around her uncomfortably. Her mother’s face fell.

“You don’t like it, do you?” She sighed.

“N-no! It just… s-seems a little short.”

“Well I thought you could wear it to your date tomorrow since it’s the big anniversary!”

The thought of wearing that dress in front of Allan made Satin’s face flourish into a crimson color.

“Oh come on! You’d look good in something that’s black and not a sweater… you’re always bundled up all the time.”

“Most parents would want that for their little girls.”

Her mother rolled her eyes. She looked at Satin and her face softened.

Satin looked down. She only had vague memories of her father. He had died was she was five. Her mother had told her that he had been involved with a bad crowd when he was alive, but neither of them knew if that was related to his death. He just disappeared one night, and a few days later the police called to tell them they found his body in a ditch. The night before he left, though, he had given Satin the ribbon and told her to never go anywhere without it.

“Yeah…” Satin mumbled, rubbing the ribbon between her fingers like she always did. She was surprised that she hadn’t worn a hole through the fabric.

“You wearing that tomorrow? I bought the boots with the red to go with it,” Her mother asked.

“Of course!”

She came over and brushed Satin’s bangs out of her face and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“Good. I’m gonna put this on your bed, wear it tomorrow if you want. Be safe. Don’t forget that ribbon,” She smiled at her from the doorway. “And don’t work too late, okay?”

Satin nodded.

“I won’t. I love you.”

“Love you too. Goodnight.”

She closed the door, leaving Satin to her math homework.

Allan pulled into the driveway of an old, rundown house. Weeds lined the sidewalk as he walked up to his home. The bronze "3" of his address marker had fallen off the door and sat at his feet on the concrete slab that he called a porch in front of the door. He sighed and kicked it away, then opened the door very slowly. He slipped in quietly, hoping she wouldn't be home. He closed the door with a little click, then her voice broke the silence.

"Hello, Allan."

Allan had to keep himself from flinching. He turned and faced the tall, hourglass figure of a blonde with piercing green eyes that matched her short dress. She looked to be in her late thirties, but she kept up with the fashion sense of women in their twenties, except for the snake bracelet on her wrist that matched Allan's in everything but color. Hers was gold. Allan looked at her, slightly afraid despite the fact that she had raised him from a child.

She put a hand on her curvaceous hip.

"You haven't done it yet, have you?" she questioned.

Allan's eyes fell to his feet.

"No, Mom, but-" Allan attempted to say, but he was interrupted by a slap so hard that he saw white.

"I told you, Allan, to stop calling me that. You're eighteen now. You're about to join the business," She held up the bracelet on her wrist and nearly shoved it in Allan's face. "My business. The thing that's kept you alive all these years. If you're going to survive in it, you cannot show weakness by calling me 'Mommy'! You will call me Medusa, understand?"

"Y-yes, Medusa," Allan whimpered.

"And you will get the assignment done. Got it?"

Allan nodded silently, avoiding her gaze as his stomach twisted at the thought of his assignment.

Medusa sensed his uncertainty.

"You know why you have to do this. She's your biggest tie, Allan. If they find her, they'll find us, and they're already on our trail! Unless you want me to lose everything, throw out everything I've done to keep you safe and alive, you're going to have to cut any ties you have and make sure they stay quiet."

Allan lifted his eyes to the heartless woman, but kept silent.

"You know your task. Get it done, or we'll both get killed by those damn reapers."

#god i hate tumblr's formatting #this took way too long #down side up #working title #original works #ocs #story #original story #reapers #supernatural #medusa #allan walker #satin coller #yes i realize allan walker is the name of an anime character already i didnt know at the time #deal with it #Chasing Souls #Previously Down Side Up

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