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theramenbandit · 3 years

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20 and 59 for the mashup au prompts. Any pairing that strikes your fancy :)

From this post here

Describe how I’ll combine them: Co-teachers to lovers via secret admirer shenanigans.

“And don’t forget, project drafts are due next Thursday.”

So far, so good, Lena thinks as she gathers up her belongings and heads out the door of her first class of the day. She likes it here in Midvale. It’s a lot slower, a lot quieter, a lot--

Force, mass, velocity, something bumps into her hard.

“Oh shoot! I am so sorry. Here…”

The woman who apparently was the thing that bumped into her bends down and picks her things up off the floor.

Lena is, of course, properly miffed and halfway to a firm scolding until the woman straightens up again and Lena forgets how talking works for a moment.

Her hair is flowing in golden locks and the bluest eyes she had ever seen are looking at her from behind dark-rimmed glasses.

“Wait, you’re the new girl, right? Lena from Metropolis?”

“Yes,” Lena clears her throat. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Sorry about that,” the woman says nervously. “Let me make it up to you. Lunch in the hall at lunchtime?”

Lena should say no. She’s not here to make friends. But the blonde is cute and her shoulders are...nice. So…

“Okay.”

The blonde gives her a thumbs up and turns to leave, but quickly turns around and jogs back to where Lena is standing mutely.

“It’s Kara, by the way.” She extends a hand towards Lena in introduction. “Kara Danvers. I teach English.”

Ao3

Kara Danvers takes it upon herself to be Lena from Metropolis’ first ever official work friend.

Lena loses a fight with the coffee maker. She’d been having a bad day already, see. Her mother had called this morning, so naturally, by the time the damn machine stopped working, she was on the brink of tears.

“Hey there, is everything alright?” Kara asks cautiously as she walks into the break area.

“Everything is fucking dandy, thanks.” Lena growls, angrily swiping a hand at her eyes.

“Whoa, okay… You know, Noonan’s is right over there and your next class isn’t til 3, we could--”

“How did you know that?”

Kara casually points to the schedule on the board behind her.

Lena only growls again.

“Okay, you’re really wound up. Come on, a walk could do you some good.”

Kara learns that Lena is here as a middle school science teacher because she wants to prove something to her mother. And the pressure is getting to her.

“Sometimes you don't have to do amazing, just have to do your best.” Kara says reasonably. “Look, you're great and your students love you. So don't worry about what your mother says. Judge your work by the proper standard or... something.”

Lena chuckles at that. Kara was probably right.

"Thank you. I… I really needed that."

Kara nods sagely and continues to sip at her iced coffee. "What are friends for?"

The note is simple and plain and handwritten and she has absolutely no idea what it means. Or who it’s from, for that matter.

It’s, well... It’s notes. The note contains notes. That much she can suppose from the five lines and the G-clef and the black dots staring back at her. She looks around for anyone who might have left it there by accident, but she’s alone in the faculty room. What’s more, the note is wedged between the pages of her lesson plan for today, the only thing currently lying on her desk. Frowning, she looks back down at the small piece of paper and shoves it into one of her drawers. She’ll decide what to do with it later.

The note notes are piling up now and she thinks this might be something worth investigating. She'd gotten three more over the last week, each with the same handwriting and the same paper, but the notes on the staff (she does know some things) seemed to be different every time. She lines them up in order of the dates she got them and squints intensely at them, daring the offending dots to tell her what the hell is going on.

Kara's eyes widen in horror when she walks into the faculty room and sees Lena glaring at the notes.

Her notes.

She quickly makes to get out again but Lena's already seen her.

"Kara, hey!"

Shit.

"Hi, what's up?" the blonde responds, her voice suddenly pitchy.

"Can you help me figure this out?" She scoots over as Kara leans into her space and over her desk.

"Oh, they're notes," Kara tries nonchalantly.

"I can see that," Lena deadpans. "Notes to what?"

"Ehm, well this is a G, and this is a D… That's an E minor… It's a song."

Lena fights the urge to dramatically roll her eyes. "Do you know what song it is?"

Dammit, this is wonderful.

"It could be any song, Lena."

She's still trying to dodge it but Lena is adamant. And Kara doesn't want to lie, but she doesn't want to be found out, either.

"Uh... I could play it and maybe we can figure it out?"

"Okay, let's try that."

The music room is empty, much to Kara's eternal chagrin, so she and Lena walk up to the piano and she starts to play the notes that Lena holds up in front of her.

"It's Elvis," Kara says simply.

Lena soon recognizes the tune and starts to hum along with the keys. Just then, Kara slowly looks up from her seat and is mesmerized by the sight: the light is hitting Lena's face just so, illuminating the lines of her jaw, the curve of her lips, the dark red of her hair. She wishes she could stay in this moment forever. And if Lena were paying attention, she would notice that Kara wasn't even looking at the notes anymore. She was playing by heart.

"Oh, that's sweet," Lena whispers when the tune is done. "And you never told me you could play."

"My dad taught me the basics. The rest I figured out myself," Kara says quietly.

"Aren't you full of surprises?"

"It might be Mike, you know, that guy from the marching band? He is objectively good looking."

"He chews with his mouth open."

"Ooh, could it be Jack from phys ed?" He walks around with a guitar most Fridays."

"Lena, Jack is so gay for the bar owner and you know it."

"Well, who could it be?"

Me, Kara wants to say. But she doesn't. She doesn't want to make things weird.

They're sitting on the bleachers during the afternoon break, Lena leaning into her side munching on the donuts Kara had gotten for them. It wasn't hard for them to fall into this sort of easy companionship. Kara was open and friendly, and Lena, once her walls had gone down, was sharp and fascinating. And Kara fears that the feelings she's developed might ruin whatever this was that they had. So instead of being honest with herself, she just shrugs and bites sullenly into her own donut.

"It could be anyone."

People are starting to notice how often they are together, start talking about how cute they look next to each other. And so people waste no time in throwing them into each other's paths, especially since prom is three days away.

“Come ON, Lena!” Kara yells as she grabs Lena’s hand and drags her to the dance floor. Lena tries her best until she isn’t so much trying as she is struggling to keep up with Kara, who seems to have only got more hyper as the night wore on. But the joy on her face is infectious, and honestly, if she got to see this every day, Lena wouldn’t mind.

The song ends and the band’s vocalist approaches the mic.

"Hey, hey, everybody, y’all having a good time?”

The crowd whoops in affirmation.

“Alright! Well I think it’s about the proper hour, so we’re gonna slow things down a bit starting with a classic.”

The opening strains of a piano-driven ballad fill the air, and Kara politely extends a hand towards Lena.

Lena accepts.

Wise men say only fools rush in / But I can’t help falling in love with you

The world around them dissolves as they sway together, Kara’s hand gentle against the small of Lena’s back, Lena’s arm reaching up behind Kara’s shoulder.

“It’s Elvis,” Kara whispers against her hair.

“It was you,” Lena chuckles in response.

“You knew?” Kara says as she draws back to look at her.

“No. But I was kinda hoping.” She smiles warmly and Kara has never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

“You’re not mad?”

“Darling, why would I be mad?” Lena lifts her hand to brush it across Kara’s cheek. “You had me at Oh Shoot."

Kara laughs as she ducks her head in embarrassment and Lena cannot help but join her.

"I'd really like to kiss you right now."

"Please do."

#Full disclosure i have zero experience with teacher AUs #Like i was legit scared when this landed in my inbox #But i had fun doing this and it was a good brain stretch #so thank you spicycheeser for the challenge and i hope this was to your liking #i went with sc bcs why not #20 teacher au #59 interrupted declaration of love #RBmicrofics #writing tag #word count #1476 #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl

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mimithings97 · 4 years

Text

0:09am (M)

Bf Jungkook crying from his first handjob - 2k

Warnings: all smut, nothing in between

You’d been the one to touch him first. Jungkook, a virgin in the disguise of abs on legs that had you daydreaming of a hard fuck, even on the first date. But he was timid the first time you went in for the touch, and ever since he had keened a little too much at it and apologised for sporting an immediate hard on, you’ve grown to mediate your libido.

“Coffee or another beer?”

“Neither,” he’s crashed out on the sofa, legs parted wide and head thrown because casual work drinks had turned into partying as though you were younger than your real age.

“Oh?”

“Mmm, just wanna cuddle.”

Your soft, soft boy. A timidity of the confident persona he laced on when it wasn’t just the two of you in one anothers company.

And you’ll give into him because his tone plays you like a fiddle.

“You sleepy?” he reaches out for you, eyes sewn shut so his hand, outstretched, fumbles with the air until you lock his fingers with yours. You’re in his lap with a gentle pull, because he’s good that he thinks he might hurt you.

“Mmm very.” He dons a black long sleeve, cotten and soft but cold because of the frost you’d walked back, hand in hand, in. Yet, his skin burns hot as you caress the tiny hairs that feather his back. The feeling makes him melt. “You smell good.”

“Do I, now?” you kiss the smile he’s caused to litter on your face into his neck. Once, twice, and the third lingers.

“So good. Always smell so good.” He purrs.

You inhale to liken the heady space he’s in. To encompass yourself in all that is Jungkook - the hair that tickles your cheek, the muscles of his back that bulk every time his hands run up to the top of your shoulders and retreats when they map lower, and the smell. That authentic Jungkook smell that has you preening in his lap because it’s everything and anything you need.

Your lips don’t want to retreat from where they started settling under his ear, so you don’t make them. And when you feel him shudder because you wet that same spot with your tongue, you find the incentive to dig a little deeper.

“Tell me how I make you feel.”

You mix teeth with lips, drawing out goosebumps at the base of his neck and he clears his throat as though you’re tempting him into submission.

“You- You’re everything.” You’re surprised he played your game, but his answer has you feeling as though you could tear up. He’s got you a messy kind of falling in love. “You make me feel wanted, and safe, always safe and belonging.”

You shift a fraction forwards, intentionally, but he doesn’t have to know that. You can tell he feels everything, though, from the way his words diffuse to a whisper cracking in your ear.

“You make me want you.”

“Mmm,” you’re egging it on. Drawing what you want to hear from his pretty lips.

“Make me want you too much,” his words catch up to his dick all too fast and it’s gentle, but far too noticeable when he begins the slow lift of his hips into yours.

“You can have it. Take what you want.”

He stutters a breath because he’s worked himself into a hard on he’s not sure he can quit with the way your mouth works that spot on his neck. Your voice is a siren too. It has him in a frenzy. He’s always had the power in him to stop, or calm down, or something, but he’s confused now that you feel his hands steer your hips on him.

“Y/N.” He moans it. You’ll never have enough now you’ve heard that.

“You’re good, doing good Guk.” You’ll let him lead you where he’s comfortable. And that’s him stirring his dick, hard and brazen in the confines of his trousers, into you. “Keep going.”

“I can’t. Want you- ah- to do it for me.”

You finally peel away to round his face, eye to eye and your lustful gaze into his pained one.

“You sure?”

You have to ask, hear him do more than an affirmative nod because you’d always held back for the sake of his shy streak. The dates that had rolled into staying over in his double bed, nestled body to body and sharing warmth, had seen it’s fair share of unsuspecting erections under the covers. He’d blush and you’d coo, telling him to act on it when he’s ready.

“Sure, so sure.”

And now that he’s ready, you’re nervous. For him and the pressure the moments amounted to.

“We’ll go slow. Just hands,” he nods fast and gulps the saliva down like it’s heavy and he’s riding on a throat gone dry. “Unless you want more.”

His eyes hang low and can’t seem to pull away from where his erection pokes out between your legs. It’s not discrete. You already knew he was packing but as you keep shifting, small fractions back and forth, you get an up close in personal feeling of just the length he’s sporting. It’s hot. Not only his dick but how he’s unconsciously drooling over you, on his dick.

“I’m- I’m not sure I’ll last ‘more’.”

“Already feels good?” His neck strains and his lip is sucked tight when you jut over his head. He’s so damn sensitive you might just be staining his trousers in the process of your ministrations.

“So good, god, shit.”

“Take it out for me?” You don’t say it with any ulterior motive other than to lesser the strain on his balls. Your tone is not laced with anything alluring, just a plain simple request. He told you you make him feel safe, and you’re not gonna stray from that, not for the sake of seeing his face contort because you like a little control. Another day, you think.

“Mmm,” you hear his zip first and then watch his jaw slacken once he’s got a grasp beneath the seam. You keep your eyes trained on his face, scared he’d become uncomfortable with an extra set of eyes watching his privacy.

His body tenses and pairs with a moan as you see his bicep roll out a stroke or two from in between you. It turns you on enough you press a couple of light kisses on his unsuspecting lips, then draw out his tongue when you see him relax into his touch.

“Give me your hand,” you whisper into another kiss and he provides, “other one,” the one wrapped tight on his base. There’s a slight whimper once his hand, warm, and wet in spots, meets yours. “Show me how you do it?”

He’s apprehensive because he’s not diving in at the same rate his dick calls for it.

But slowly, he drags your small fist down, and around where he’s bare and vulnerable. You take the first squeeze because you’re too damn eager, and he can’t stop the stutter from the back of his throat.

You’re real and on him. You’re his and he finally has you like this. It leaves his head bowing and his hand tightening around yours because he thinks, just the thought of your hand on him and your pussy so close, will have him embarrassed and emptied too damn fast.

“I’m too turned on.” You try not to laugh and ruin the moment but he sounds genuinely angry at himself. The little noise you make has his eyes on yours, eyebrows turned into a look of desperation and you kiss at the crease they make.

“Relax then, you idiot.” Taking your advice sees him kissing you quickly, finding solace in your lips. “Just do what makes you feel good.”

“Kiss me, that feels good.” And after he begins melting into your mouth, finding the slip of your tongue arousing enough to have his dick get that bit harder, his hand springs back into life against yours.

He’s tentative at first. It’s a little dry and you know it’ll hurt if he has you stroking fast, so he works your palm over the head and then traces it back down to the base, squeezing at the bottom before finding the rhythm back up again.

“I like it.” He reassures himself, finding his footing.

“Yeah?”

“Yeh, a lot- too much.”

“You want me to give it a go?”

His eyes, glazed and dazed, meet yours as he gulps.

“Please.”

Once his hands released yours, it finds purchase on the sofa, digging into spots to compensate for the need to dig his teeth into his lip. He does it anyway and sucks in a breath simultaneously because your touch feels heavier without him leading.

It’s unnerving, and good, so fucking good, to him, not knowing where the next touch will come and he missed when your other hand comes to join.

“Oh shit.”

He peers down his nose, but throws his head back just as quick like the visuals too much.

“You ever think about this? When you touch yourself?”

The corner of his mouth twitches in a laugh but falls when you drift a palm onto his head.

“Of fucking c-course.”

“What you think about?” You reach a hand to his balls.

“Oh god, there.” And squeeze.

“Here?” And squeeze harder.

“Fuck yeh.”

“You’re so fucking hard.” Both hands find a hard pace and Jungkook’s eyes begin to roll back, too far into the feeling.

“I’llcum- Y/N it’s- holy fuck.”

“Yeah? So good for me.”

His stomach begins to cave, hips canting up with a chase for such a fucking good end. He can feel you, everywhere.

“Please keep going. Please keep going- oh my god, oh-”

“You’ll cum for me?” You want it as bad as him.

“Yes. Please.”

He’s pleading into deaf ears, because you watch his mouth gape and hip stutter in a frenzy.

“Urgh, oh fuck, I’m cumming, I’m gonna cum.”

“Please cum Guk.”

“Yess, love you, love you, thank you.” The pit of his stomach breaks as he feels everything rush all over him. Pleasure from head to toe and you hands milking him out again and again, still tight on his shaft and he preens with unadulterated moans. “God, my god.”

His hips follow your motions as he rides it out, and you let them, but his face contorts like it does before he cries. You’re swift to meet his lips and take away the sensation overwhelming him. You’ve been there, spent but so damn euphoric you’ve cried. And it’s kinda hot when you feel wetness where his cheek meets yours.

“Love you too, Jungkook, a lot a lot.” The emphasis has him kissing back, calming his hips and your hand because the moments dissipated into nothing but your lips on his. He just thanks the gods for you. You, you and you.

“Urgh.” His head drops to your shoulder, a little shake in his body that you worry is a sob but then you hear the gentle trickles of his laughter you’ve found yourself to become so in tune with. It’s your happy sound. “I can’t actually believe that.”

You laugh into his body too, letting him envelop you, because the mess in your hands still lingers.

“Can’t believe what.”

“That was so fucking good. Like god tier orgasm.”

“Yeah?” He nods now that you’re eye for eye. His a little red around the edges. Makes sense, considering he’d sealed them shut like a vice for ten minutes. “A lot of cum too.”

“Y/NNN,” he drags it out with an embarrassed whine, head retreating to that space in your neck again so you’re blind to the blush tainting his cheeks. You still get a glimpse of the red around his ears though and it has you smiling.

“You brought it up.”

“Hmmph.”

You’re smiling Cheshire cat style, and you feel his hardened cheeks so he must be too. An all consuming kind of love that you’re both scared to expose because it’s the first time for both of you. He’ll mutter it into your neck though.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.” Your teeth bare gleefully without permission, “and you’re really hot.”

“You cry when you orgasm so I guess you’re kinda hot too.”

#bts jungkook #bts smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook smut #bts drabble #jeon jungguk #bts jungkook smut #drabbles #jungkook things

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she-wolf-of-highgarden · 4 years

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As someone that likes both Sansa and Arya, what’s your take on Ned’s parenting? I feel like Ned really needed to sit them down together after the trident and explain to them the dangers of the Lannisters as well as drawing a line for acceptable behavior. Say to Sansa: you cannot tell Arya you wish she was dead. Say to Arya: it doesn’t matter what Sansa says, you cannot beat her up. Ned never talks to Sansa after he kills Lady and his talks with Arya aren’t enough. (Sorry for sending all the asks

Oh my gosh don’t worry about it. I love asks…I’m just sometimes slow with them. Fair warning, this got...long

At his core Ned loves his children; he really does. He also doesn’t know them super well or at least isn’t super in touch with them and he is not in charge of raising them. Which is pretty on par with the Westerosi fathers we see. He’s still a heck of a lot better than Bobby B and Roose Bolton over there. There’s still some distance there. Which again considering the universe Martin has made and the social standing it makes sense.

Ned does kinda sorta address the don’t-hit-your-sister thing with Arya when he finds Needle. But, admittedly, it is kind of a joke.

“For true." He smiled. "If I took it away, no doubt I'd find a morningstar hidden under your pillow within the fortnight. Try not to stab your sister, whatever the provocation.” – Arya II, AgoT

But I think part of the reason he isn’t that worried is that even Sansa is surprised when Arya hits her.

“Arya, stop it!" Ned shouted. Jory pulled her off her sister, kicking. Sansa was pale and shaking as Ned lifted her back to her feet. "Are you hurt?" he asked, but she was staring at Arya, and she did not seem to hear.” – Eddard III, AGoT

After that the worst Arya does to her is throw a piece of orange at her and while it was unkind and Arya needed to be reprimanded for it, it wasn’t like it was unprovoked. This isn’t like the show where Arya sheep-shifted Sansa’s bed (that still annoys me) and threw fruit at her at the feast for the king for fun. When Arya does it, they are arguing about Mycah…the same subject that had Arya kicking her sister.

“Arya screwed up her face in a scowl. "Jaime Lannister murdered Jory and Heward and Wyl, and the Hound murdered Mycah. Somebody should have beheaded them."

"It's not the same," Sansa said. "The Hound is Joffrey's sworn shield. Your butcher's boy attacked the prince.” – Sansa III, AGoT

Feels like the adult sitting right there should have ended that conversation.

It doesn’t matter if Sansa is in the right not to be mad at the royal family or that she can’t. The issue is that Arya is 9 and has a thing about lying and is traumatized. Remember even though it is never brought up again, Arya is hiding in the woods for three days. A 9-year-old little girl. In the woods. In Westeros. The fact Ned didn’t turn around or send at least Arya back is honestly one of the times I wish I could shake a fiction character and demand answers. Why Arya was in the south in the first place still boggles me, but I’ll get back to that.

It takes Ned until Sansa III to actually talk to the girls together. This should have been like Eddard IV or Sansa II or something. Sansa III is a bit too late and we can see that because Sansa is just plain mean in this chapter, the girl has reached a breaking point. Arya ruins her dress. Which is bad, no argument here. The issue is that she gets an apology. She gets one in front of Ned and refuses to accept it.

“Enough, Sansa." Lord Eddard's voice was sharp with impatience.

Arya raised her eyes. "I'm sorry, Father. I was wrong and I beg my sweet sister's forgiveness."

Sansa was so startled that for a moment she was speechless. Finally she found her voice. "What about my dress?” – Sansa III, AGoT

This conversation between the girls goes on for a pretty minute in front of Ned. Instead of just standing there he could have given some Stark speech about forgiveness or something. Instead he just lets it go until he tells them that they are leaving and just kind of does his best to comfort Sansa about not being queen and dips. That’s it. He doesn’t mention that fact that Arya came up with two different ways to make it up to Sansa. What he should have done was tell Arya she had to mend the dress or clean it or whatever because she messed it up and tell Sansa that that was the way her dress is getting fixed. You don’t let it just go on like that. They are 11 and 9, they don’t know when enough is enough it why some voice of reason is needed.

Part of the issue is, as mentioned above, Westerosi highborns parents aren’t how we think of parents. They are pretty hands off. Martin doesn’t even let us see Arya and Cat together. Ned bit off more than he could chew. To be honest, I’m still unsure why he brought Arya along. He never really tells us and even Cat just chalks it up to her needing refinement.

“You must," he said. "Sansa must wed Joffrey, that is clear now, we must give them no grounds to suspect our devotion. And it is past time that Arya learned the ways of a southron court. In a few years she will be of an age to marry too.” - Cat II, AGoT

I guess the plan was to marry Arya off to a Southern lord? He didn’t need her to go to keep Sansa company, Jeyne was already going. It was just a bad plan. And then you add the incident at the Trident (aka Joff “kitten killer” Baratheon is left unsupervised and adults suck at the Trident) and the depression and trauma that both girls face and it gets worse.

At least he gets Arya Syrio. What does Sansa get? She wanted high harp lessons, find a harpist or whatever. If you can find the first sword of Bravos just wandering around you can find someone who plays the harp. It would have given Sansa an outlet that she needed as well as maybe putting a balance in her life. A different perspective or something.

Ned should have talked to both girls about going to KL. He should have had joint and separate conversations. Contrary to fandom belief 11 and 9 are different ages. Sansa can take a little bit more information because she is older. Why he doesn’t give it to her is a different question. I think he relies on the Septa to do it. If Arya hadn’t spiraled and had a weapon, I dont think he’d have a big sit-down with her. The issue with letting the septa take charge instead is that the septa doesn’t really get the political intrigue either because that just isnt her job.

I think Ned is a man who loves his children and got way in over his head. In different universe where the incident at the Trident doesn’t happen and the court is a bit more stable (IDK Baelish gets lost at sea or something), then i think it might be kinda okay. There would still be problems, but they might seem less severe.

#Arya Stark #Sansa Stark #Ned Stark #They need super nanny #they really do #valyrianscrolls #ASoIaF #Ned tries #He really does #i still love ya ned

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ayellowcurtain · 4 years

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can I have David being popular in school and Matteo being low key jealous of all these girls (and guys) flirting with David but knows he doesn’t have a right to be jealous cause they haven’t even talked before so he just kinda pines from a distance but then David notices that Matteo is watching him and just drops hints that he’s also interested

Matteo tries to stay focused on his sketchbook, doodling all the stupid and loud girls constantly hovering David like vultures. He’s a good looking guy, everyone knows that and it’s so clear why this girls won’t ever leave his side.

He’s also really nice, apparently, that’s what Matteo hears others saying about him anyway. So it’s understandable that the school feels like a battle field of who’s going to get the boy’s attention.

His music is not loud enough anymore so Matteo stops drawing to turn the volume over to cover the annoying voices around him. Matteo already drew David so many times he can’t even count them. Most of the time he tries to draw him, but not completely right so if someone sees him drawing they won’t be able to tell who it is.

The last thing he needs it’s his friends with huge mouths to know about his interest for the popular kid.

And David - and all the girls and some boys - are a little too close for Matteo to feel comfortable drawing him, so he tries the girls. Long hairs, not as thick eyebrows, not as natural long eyelashes, plain skin.

He’s completely focused on his drawings and trying to improve his lines, make them thinner and straighter when someone bumps into him, making him draw a line crossing his page, ruining everything. He looks up and the girl didn’t even notice the shit she made him do so he gets up and shoves everything inside his backpack, leaving the crowd behind to go to his next class, hoping to find the classroom still empty so he can have some peace to draw.

Matteo is totally fine if he and David never really talk, if this stupid thing he has for the boy is forever a platonic feeling. Matteo is happy to have at least something ludic to keep his mind busy during his free time. He never even let himself think about them talking in real life. They don’t know each other so Matteo doesn’t know what they could talk about, if they even have anything in common.

So it’s a little surprising when David comes to sit next to him the next day during his first class, while Matteo is still basically half asleep and extremely grumpy for being awake so early in the day.

“I like your drawings.” David says out of nowhere and Matteo has to look at him to be sure David is talking to him.

“Thank you...?” Matteo frowns, trying to go back inside his memory, searching for the moment where David saw anything he made.

“Your friend, Jonas, posted something on his instagram and I saw it. It’s cool. I draw too.”

Matteo didn’t know that. He’s almost sure whatever Jonas took a picture of has no sign of his drawings of David so he doesn’t worry too much, except for the fact that David is talking to him. That the boy knows Matteo exists and he came to talk to him because he wants to.

“I didn’t know you drew.”

David smiles and Matteo drops his pen against the soft paper of his book, making sure to see every detail, every teeth, every hair starting to grow as a hint of a moustache. David relaxes in his chair, touching his hair and Matteo follows every movement, wanting to save it for later. And the thought that David might stay next to him for the class makes Matteo’s heart beat faster than ever before.

“I do, since I was young. It’s just a hobby thought, definetely not as good as you.” He smiles in a cute way now and Matteo looks down at his notes from yesterday’s class. He tends to draw circles, straight lines all around every page and David is looking at it too, making Matteo want to erase everything and explain himself.

“Thank you again, but it’s just a hobby for me too.”

Matteo should stop staring because he knows how obvious he can be with his expressions, but it’s hard to let the opportunity go. They’ll probably never talk again and Matteo wants to enjoy this and make it last for as long as possible. “Really? You don’t think about working with that?”

“I don’t know. Don’t think I could make actual money with it and I’m not rich so...I’ll probably go for something safer.”

His words linger in between them and Matteo swallows hard, feeling his words sitting bitterly inside him for thinking so little of his future. David avoids looking at him for a second now, grabbing his book and putting on his table. So he’s really staying right next to Matteo for the class.

“Never thought you were that type.”

“Which type?” Matteo frowns, feeling offended even though he was just a moment ago angry at himself for the same reason David is disappointed now.

“To go for the safe route.”

“Yeah, try to be poor and see how shitty that is...”

Matteo closes his eyes, bitting the inside of his cheek as hard as he can for being so rude. David looks at him with big eyes, clearly ashamed for how Matteo took his words.

“I didn’t mean it like that...I’m sorry, it was stupid.”

Before David can start apologizing again, Matteo shakes his head, hoping David understands he’s not in the wrong and shouldn’t feel bad.

“No, it’s okay. I was stupid.”

And another awkward moment starts between them as Matteo tries to continue this conversation, for once trying to keep someone entertained, interested.

“You think you can teach me?”

“What?” He asks, not sure of what they were talking about in the first place now.

“To properly draw. I really want to be as good as you.” Matteo sighs, knowing what David means, but still feeling weird for someone like David, the popular guy, thinking he can learn anything from someone like Matteo, the depressed one.

“I don’t think I’m a good teacher.”

“I’m sure you are. Can we meet tomorrow? After school?”

Matteo is not at all sure about it, but David won’t take a no as an answer.

“I’ll pay you a coffee and we’ll draw for a little. If it’s too annoying to you, we won’t do it again.”

And Matteo has to look at David, very sure that his thoughts are as clear as water on his face expression.

You really think you’re annoying? I would pay to look at your pretty face any day of my life.

#druck #matteo florenzi #david schreibner #matteo x david #davenzi

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mcrmadness · 3 years

Text

Rambling about my (dä fan)art...

I was writing another post and this kinda got out of hand and turned into me talking about my art overall. I’m gonna put this under the cut because I don’t know if people are interested in my art nor especially in my thought about it and my “art history” basically, but if you are, then I hope you enjoy.

And yes, this is gonna be about my die ärzte fanart mainly!

So let’s start with the HELL coverart drawing because that’s what I was talking about originally:

I’m extremely happy with how the drawing turned out in the end and I like that feeling of success when I’m happy with something I have created. That is not always self-evident with myself. More than often I have plain hated my drawings or have felt like there should be something done differently, or something that I could always improve at and do better. So this feeling where I’m actually content and happy with what I have created is something new and different. I have a dopamine rush every time I look at that drawing. I like the drawing. I think it looks nice. And I’m extremely happy about this fact and I am not afraid of admitting it. Perfectionism is a curse and a gift. It can sometimes make your life a living hell when something that is perfectly good still feels like it’s not enough. When everyone else sees that what you have done is actually good or even great but your brain just keeps repeating how it’s shit and everyone else is just delusional and that they don’t see what you see. And this is like the polar opposite of that feeling. It wasn’t other people who were delusional, it was you and youself all along. You were the one seeing the image in your head and the drawing not matching that image. Other people saw only what you had created and couldn’t compare it to anything. And that doesn’t mean it was never good.

So whenever I do these comics and comic style drawings nowadays, I just feel so happy. I feel that I am no longer failing them, I feel like I can draw the image I see in my head. I finally feel like I can draw, I have some skills, I’m not a professional and maybe not as good as everyone else but I’m good at what I’m doing. This is my thing and I’m good at it and it’s enough. And I love it when I feel like I’m improving. For years I felt like I was stuck, like my skills would have been glitching somehow, I didn’t get better no matter how much I drew. But I guess I tried too much and was too harsh on myself because I believed that a drawing is good only when no reference photos have been used. And I sucked at drawing without them. I still do! I was staring at the Hell coverart the whole time I was drawing! I wouldn’t have been able to do this if I didn’t! And this feels particularly good also because this is the first time I have tried something different with these comics. I have never tried to draw a photo or existing picture with this style. I have only drawn my comics and those I have created all by myself. The clothes come from what I have seen in videos and photos but the plots are created by me alone, with a idea coming from somewhere actual usually, as inspirations do.

For comics I do look at reference photos of people sitting or standing, or I look at the mirror, or even take photos of my own hand to be able to draw something. And that’s lots of fun and also challenging because I’m mixing there my old habit of portrait drawing with my less serious comic book style but I really really do like the combination. It also makes me feel that I am memorizing what I draw and the next time when I need to draw that same posture, I no longer need the reference photos because they’re no in my brain. And in my muscle memory. My hand remembers how to do the lines now.

Here you can see one of the sketches I did in 2018 - I had this image in my head and I wanted to draw it and I just... drew it in my sketchbook. Didn’t use pencil. But now I’ve noticed I like doing these on proper paper instead of the sketchbook AND it’s so much more fun to first draw the sketch with the pencil and then draw on it with the fineliners. That I have always done with the comics (apart from one) because they take more time than these quick sketches. But here you can see Farin’s legs on the first image - I think I might have looked at reference photos for that but then it was so much easier to do the to the comic I made in 2019.

I have now also figured out that a big part of my style is not to draw just simple straight lines. I like making those sketch-like lines even with the marker. They look more rough but that’s something I like seeing with my art. That’s what I was missing when I was staring at the lines I had drawn before and hated every detail of them. They were too clean and neat.

^These two I have also drawn on my sketchbook in 2018 and I don’t really know why. I guess I was still a bit stupid and didn’t really realize I’m drawing again. But anyway, they both were inspired by my own fanfiction I have written a long time ago. It’s one of my favorite self-written fanfics and it had these two scenes I just saw in my head and felt like I could try drawing them. Maybe that’s why they are in my sketchbook, I wasn’t sure if they were going to turn out even good... The marker around the second one obviously was shit and the paper wasn’t good for it, and I never finished with it so it looks a bit weird. Do I need to say that I really enjoy drawing very small, repetative details, like those tiles? It’s so soothing, almost like a therapy.

I think that quitting antidepressants in 2013 has done so much good for my creativity. If you compare my work from 2011 to 2019, the difference is huge - all are just parts from my comics:

Can you guess see the difference? But have to admit I am jealous for myself for how I have drawn Farin’s hair to the 2011 one and maybe have forgotten to color Farin’s arm but... I actually had so long pause from drwing (~8 years) that I forgot how I did that and had to use THAT as a reference when I was trying to draw late 80s Farin’s at some point last or this year :D

Anyway, my style with the shadows is a little different when I use colored pencils than when I use markers. This is from my latest comic from this year, where I experimented with Promarkers the way I had never done before and I really like how it came to be:

I have owned this set of Promarkers (black + 5 greys) for years and have never really used them, apart from the black which I usually used for the thick lines anyway. And wanted to see if I could find some use for the greys too! (Yes that’s Bela back there - this comic was an alternative ending for Für Immer music video :D)

And I wanna end this post with a face progress comparison for all three. During this I also noticed that before I used to draw their side profiles and it was really difficult to find images where I’d have drawn from from the front. And nowadays I have mainly drawn them from the front and it’s hard to find side profiles! Interesting! Here’s one of Farin and Bela from a drawing I made this year:

Also the hand that was so much fun to draw but I also took photos of my own hand in that posture in order to even draw that - that was fun! :D

But here are the last three images - using the HELL one as the last for each, of course:

Bela has always been the easiest to draw. And the first one of these three is actually from my first ever Bela&Farin comic! I didn’t color their skin back then. With the next ones I already did color their skins too but I used darker colors to do the shadows. Nowadays I do the shadows with fineliners. Or it depends - that 2019 one doesn’t have that lol.

Damn it was so difficult to find something where I’d have draw Farin from the front :D And I see the HELL one literally is my second (or third) time drawing Farin with his grin. Or if you count all those numerous extra mouths I drew because I failed the first one, then I have drawn his grin at least 15 times by now. I probably can draw his teeth with no reference photos from now on.

I haven’t drawn Rod too many times. I can actually count about... 5 times? And then there’s only 2 times when I’ve drawn his side profile but he’s at the background. I don’t know if I’ve ever really succeeded at that, I usually try to draw his head a more round and his eyes smaller than for Bela and Farin and I was actually bit worried for the HELL one and was wondering if I’m going to ruin the whole thing. But in fact, that was actually easiest of them to draw. And STILL I’m surprised by how alike he looks in that last one. In fact, I think his dacial features are perfect for a carricature drawing so you don’t need to do more than a few lines for the mouth and it looks like his mouth. The middle one was for a drawing I made for a friend and with this I actually looked at photos so that I could draw some of his hairstyles from the 90s and I liked this one the best and it was also quite easy to draw too.

Do I even have to say that I’m not extremely motivated what comes to drawing? I feel like my creative has become what it has never been before. I still don’t really know what to draw but I just feel that whatever it is I’ll start next, it will be good. And if it doesn’t... who cares? I had so much fun with those extra mouths of Farin which was maybe visible from the video I filmed, and that is what makes drawing worth it. Before I took the drawing process so seriously and a mistake felt like the end of the world but now I laugh at them and make fun of them and don’t take them too seriously. And I always have ways to fix these, or I can redraw. Just like I did with Farin’s mouth (or a half of his face actually) for this newest drawing. The most important thing is that I’m having fun and enjoying what I do, that way usually the outcome will also be a success.

I have now at least 2 dä comics on my to-do list (I don’t remember if there’s a third one too) + one pencil drawing that is halfway there. It will take one more night/day for it to get it finished. I also have probably 5 ideas for self-comics etc. in my sketchbook and I try to find some time to work on those. Or actually I have a plenty of time. Adhd, time blindness and executive dysfunction just make it feel as if I didn’t :D Can’t wait to get working on my next drawing projects, tho!

(I wish I knew how to make art for a living even but that’s a topic that will need its own post which I’m probably do in a near future if I don’t forget :D)

#mcrmadness’ art talk #mcrmadness draws #the post has lots of text but also quite a many images #dä fanart #die ärzte #I have been drawing dä comics since 2010 - the old ones are very stupid but whatever :D #long post

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wongiemei · 4 years

Text

2. Fear

a/n: aNgST wHO?

The Underworld was, ironically, above water.

Situated on the vast Pacific, a large island, about twice the size of the United States of America, is known as the Capital. With spells and magic, all of the Coven kingdoms were hidden in plain sight with one being in the Atlantic, some scattered near Antarctica and one at the Indian Ocean.

One of the famous ones that humans might recognize is the Bermuda triangle.

There are 3 kingdoms at the Atlantic Ocean: House Inure, House Languo, House Vermille.

House Languo is situated right at the middle of the Triangle, luring many pilots and shipmen to become their next meal.

This is why House Languo is one of the richest houses as they are the known sellers of authentic blood and would even send you a drugged human, bounded and ready to be eaten. The profits kept coming in and they were it so fast that humans started to suspect and created the legend of the Bermuda, calling it a cursed and a haunted part of the world.

In truth, it’s just a part of the Underworld but with frequent unwanted visitors.

But the 2 biggest kingdoms, Kalon and Orenda, rest on the Pacific Ocean with the Capital on top of the Ring of Fire, known in the Underworld as the Entrance to Hell.

Some say it’s unlucky to have a vampire kingdom so near the thing that could kill them but some say the reason they’re so respected is that they are so near it and could withstand it.

But who really knows the answer.

Waking up from the bright sunlight, you squirmed and accidentally rolled out of bed, dragging the sheets and covers. At this point, you were so tired that you were willing to fall asleep again but as you settled on your back, your eyes snapped open and you blinked, surprised, when you saw a head of blonde hair peer over the edge of the bed.

“And you call yourself a queen.”

His smirk after the insult made a growl escape your lips and you sprang back up to the bed, sitting on his bare torso and pinning his arms beside his head. Jaemin smirked up at you and unknowingly licked his lips at your bare chest with the sight of purple and red colors left from last night.

You scoffed slightly at the look on his face until you noticed his line of sight and shook your head, disappointed at your perverted husband. Releasing his arms and leaning back to place your butt on his lower abdomen, you quickly shifted away, feeling it poke your back.

With an irritated look, your eyebrows knitted together, “As if you didn’t use me enough last night, you still want more. How much more do you still want me from, Orendian?”

Jaemin smugly placed his left arm beneath his head and his right hand drifted to softly grab your chin, “We were married for an alliance and children symbolize that it is official, don’t you think?”

“I will not become your birth factory. As much as you don’t want to, I intend to rule beside you and I will voice out my opinion if it’s needed. I will not hesitate to put you in your place, king or not.”

Thinking that your statement would make him angry, instead it made his grin wider. His right hand wandered down to your waist and his left arm left its spot from his head to place it to the other side of your waist. You looked at him curiously, guarded and not knowing of what his true intentions were. Through half-lidded eyes, Jaemin looked up at you and his grin turned lazy.

“You are quite bold, woman. Aren’t you afraid that one day, you say the wrong word and I rip out your tongue from your mouth?”

With a defiant glare, you responded, “What I said last night still remains true today and for eternity. You will never scare me, Na Jaemin. For you are only a puny prince whose future will bring the Underworld farther than Hell itself.”

Although his smile remained, Jaemin’s eyes visibly hardened and with all of his strength, he forcibly pinned you to the bed, red eyes glazing over your face. Lingering on odd places like your cheeks or your neck, Jaemin blinked slowly at you, anger radiating from his form.

“A puny prince, huh? My wife, my queen, seems to think that I am not capable of leading our country for the better. Should I teach her a lesson? Should I fuck her until her legs are shaking and mark her dry until all the blood is gone from her body? Or should I just hand her over to my men and let her experience a second without her title,” he sneered.

Fear bubbled inside you but you forced it down and you cursed the weakness of your mind.

Even though vampires were mostly indestructible on the outside with cement-like skin, they were very prone and vulnerable to normal emotions. The absence of the heart meant nothing as the blood of humans carried something that fueled their existence and it traveled inside. But normal emotions was normal and could easily be felt, vampire or not.

A small but cold laugh escaped your lips, “My bloodline runs all over the kingdoms. If you should even do that, they are obligated to ruin Orenda due to their association with me. So try it, my king. For it will be the last time you’ll ever see your country and your family, alive.”

The threat clearly affected the boy but you were taken aback by his response. A pair of cold lips smashed to your own and you responded just as harsh, biting his lips and drawing his blood.

But when his lips left yours to bite on your flesh, a soft whimper filled the room as the razor sharp teeth roughly attached themselves on you and the abuse was something familiar yet unfamiliar to you. The fear of being trapped and so helpless that you couldn’t even push him away because you were weak.

He was taking his anger out, on you.

And there was nothing you could do to defend yourself.

You cried on the tub that day.

Paris was unusually cold during the summer month of June.

You bundled up in a beige trench coat with a black baker boy hat and a pair of vintage oval sunglasses from the 60s. The sunlight did little to nothing as it was still near 40 degrees and it didn’t warm the air. However, the sun’s fiery rays were still felt by sensitive beings like you and vampires were very prone to being cautious and try to stay away from hot things like those.

“Dear cousin, I take your honeymoon with the prince did not satisfy you as you are here shopping with me in Paris when you could be busy making love to your new husband.”

“Jaehyun, do watch your mouth. As much as I could care less for him, insulting his manhood is enough to cause that wretched temper of his into launching a seige to Metanoia and I do love you and Uncle and Aunt but your kingdom is far smaller and weaker than his army. You are one of my favorites and I’d rather love to watch Hoseok for his coronation to his kingdom that is still there.”

Jaehyun watched you with an amused look as your answer was said as you flicked through the coat racks full of Louis Vuitton coats, joining you with the inspection of the clothing. You were so nonchalant over the whole thing and he can really see the amount of training your parents have put you through to prepare you for your marriage to Jaemin.

“You know, sometimes I forget that you were the same girl who cried because I wouldn’t let her put a flower crown on my head,” he chuckled causing you look at him with a nostalgic look on your face.

“Oh, yes. I was quite naive back then.”

Jaehyun sighed as his eyes continued to look up and down on this particular honey mustard coat, “I remember you being scared of the most childish things. Johnny surprised you by the garden and you cried your little eyes out until your mother threatened to beat you. I guess that’s why you’re not really scared of anything now, huh?” He turned to look at you with a boyish smile, implying your easy agreement to the marriage.

“But the difference was, everything was perfect back then. We were young and we didn’t have anything to fear except for bath time. Now, we worry over who we’re expected to be and who we ought to marry for alliances.” Jaehyun’s fingers froze and he looked off into the wall. “Our lives have slowly become purely our parents and it fucking scares me that one day, we will be like them too. That’s my fear, Jaehyun. My one fear.”

Turning away from the horridly bright colors of the clothing, Jaehyun looked back at you and he felt sadness swelling up inside at the sight before him.

You’ve managed to fool everyone with your bravery and courage for your parents’ favor. However, there was a time where it wasn’t all an act and that you really were ready to risk it all just because they asked you to.

A naive little girl.

But now that you’ve been exposed to everything and anything, Jaehyun saw the little girl crying behind those scarlet orbs, not because of his strong refusal of the orchid covered crown, but with fear of the world and no one to defend her for what’s to come.

a/n: oof sorry for making jaemin look like an asshole but hey, we need a plot line!

might start updating once or twice a week, usually monday. i have about 2 chapters written out just not fully written out, yknow? hard to explain but here’s your update!! so sorry for making yall wait without a schedule 🥺 ayo, send a few of yall names so i can use your name for an oc in this series. i feel kinda bad bc y/n’s friends needs some names

last also. if yall didn’t get it, jaehyun’s birthday is valentines day and she’s in paris and paris is known to be the city of love so paris is a part of metanoia, which is jaehyun’s kingdom, and Hoseok, J-Hope, is with the last name of Jung so I made him jaehyun’s older brother. a lot more characters will show up in the next chapter so don’t worry!!!

here’s a taglist, (just tell me if you want to be added!):

@bobohu-s-ane-yeobo

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dakotacrisis · 5 years

Text

Transferred (7)

Kagami and Marinette are adorable besties and no one can change my mind.

---

Today was the day! Marinette was going over to Kagami’s house to work on their project. She had been rehearsing what all she was going to say to her when she got there. Marinette really wanted this to go well. Now if only she could keep her cool and not get tongue tied while speaking and everything should be fine.

Marinette arrived at the address Kagami had sent her. It wasn’t what she had expected. It was a rather modern looking house with smooth pristine white walls and large windows. It didn’t really seem to match the brick and wrought iron architecture of the rest of the city. She rung the door bell and waited until Kagami answered.

“Good afternoon, Marinette, I hope you didn’t have trouble finding the house.” Kagami smiled at her. She was dressed in a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a t-shirt with a cartoon character’s face on it. Seeing how casual Kagami was Marinette was starting to think she was overdressed in her sundress and ankle booties.

“Hey, Kagami, I found it just fine.” She stepped inside, “Wow it looks so much bigger in here.”

The house was simply designed with lots of open space in all directions. Some pictures lined the walls and a couple of houseplants rested in the corners but besides that it was pretty plain.

“Can’t have too much stuff crowding the hallways for mother.” Kagami said, “Oh, can you take your shoes off? I have a pair of slippers you can wear.”

“Not a problem. My mom used to try to implement the same thing at our house but with how much running in and out we do she gave up.” Marinette stepped out of the ankle booties she had put on and wiggled her feet into the slippers Kagami had handed her.

“Can I ask who that character on your shirt is?” Marinette asked.

“Oh that’s Pucca. She’s the main character from this TV show I was obsessed with as a kid. Kinda still am.” Kagami looked at Marinette with a chuckle, “Kinda looks like you with the dark hair tied up in red ribbons.”

“New Halloween costume idea.” Marinette followed Kagami into the living room and sat down.

They started unloading their project materials. “What is up with that empty room we passed on our way in here?”

“Practice room. When the weather is bad it is where I practice fencing. It was where I usually practiced all the time before I convinced mother to let me start training outside at different parks. Had to convince her the open air and city noise was better for getting me accustomed to fighting in front of noisy crowds.”

“Got a pretty short leash as a kid, huh?”

“That was last year.”

“Oh,” Marinette shifted in her seat, “Kagami, I am so sorry. I didn’t--”

“Don’t be. It was a short leash.” she made a little choking gesture that made both of them laugh. “Now, where were we on the project?”

Marinette relaxed and looked over her checklist of project hit points. “We finished the list of laws and regulations in class and were starting on the essay. At some point we are also going to draw the map of the island.”

“You’re the more artistic one if you wanted to do that part and I’ll construct the essay from our notes.”

“But that seems like so much more work for you.”

“If we collaborate on it then I feel our different styles of writing may clash and it will look a lot less neat than one person writing it consistently. Also, don’t take this the wrong way but, I wanna make sure it gets finished on time. Your schedule of chaos may impede that.”

Her mouth dropped open. “My schedule is not chaotic.”

Kagami arched a single eyebrow at Marinette. “Sure. What are you doing after we finish up here?”

“Go home and finish the rest of my homework, research water flowers, finalize the design I want to paint on my blouse, call Nanette, eat dinner, I need to get back to Jagged’s assistant Penny about if I can help design a new t-shirt for his tour, I haven’t watered my flowers yet today too, then I…” When she listed it all out like that is did seem pretty packed, “Okay I see your point.”

“Don’t worry about the essay. We’ll write down what the values and culture of the island is like and then I’ll piece it together.” She assured her. “Sound fair?”

“I suppose.” Marinette still felt like she was getting off easy in terms of the workload.

“Also, Marinette,” Kagami said, “Don’t overwork yourself.”

Marinette smiled at her and the two got to work. Kagami was a very diligent and straightforward worker. No surprise there seeing how she is in life. Which made it almost impossible to find a place to bring up the Adrien issue.

Marinette cleared her throat and turned fully to Kagami, “Hey, I wanted to say something.”

“Go ahead.” Kagami kept her gaze down on her notebook.

“You got a bathroom around here?” Marinette kicked herself for chickening out.

“Down the hall, first door on your right.” Kagami pointed, not looking up from her notes.

“Thanks.” Marinette got up and went down to the bathroom. After locking the door she opened her purse to let Tikki out.

“Is something the matter?” Tikki asked.

“No, just wanted to chat.” Marinette leaned against the sink. “How you been? Anything new?”

“Marinette,” Tikki flew up to eye level, “You’re just putting off talking to Kagami about Adrien. There isn’t going to be any better scenario to do it so you might as well go out there and bring it up now. The sooner you Ladybug-up, the sooner it’ll all be over.”

“Ladybug-up? Is that supposed to be like man-up or--”

“Marinette!” Tikki poked her nose.

“Alright! I’m going!” Marinette snapped, “You know you are really cranky when you miss your after school cookie.”

Marinette left the bathroom and walked back to the living room. Kagami was still working ever steadily on the project. “Ladybug-up,” Marinette whispered to herself and entered the room again.

“Hey, Kagami,” Marinette sat down next to her, “Can we talk about something?”

“Get lost on the way to the bathroom?” Kagami smirked.

“No, nothing like that. And it isn’t about the project either.”

This grabbed her attention. Kagami stopped writing and diverted her entire attention to Marinette. “You have my attention.”

“Okay, perfect,” Marinette took a deep breath, “Well, the thing is, I um--I wanted to say--it’s not a big deal or anything but uh...drat.”

Kagami was patient and didn’t push her to get to the point which was appreciated.

“Alright, there’s no easy way to segway into this so I’m just gonna go for it.”

“Please do.” She nodded.

“You and I both like Adrien and every time someone mentions him things between us get weird and it makes me really uncomfortable because I really like you and I don’t think a crush on the same guy should ruin the friendship we have.” Oh by the powers above Marinette felt like that simultaneously took three years off her life while also lifting a huge weight off her shoulders.

Kagami wasn’t saying anything. Her composure seemed to have slipped a notch and her big brown eyes were blown wide. ‘Please say something!’ Marinette screamed in her mind. ‘Anything!’

“Well,” Kagami looked away, “That was...not what I was expecting you to say. But I’m glad you said it.”

“Really?” Marinette didn’t dare relax yet.

“Yes. I’ve been thinking about it a great deal too.” She tugged at the hem of her t-shirt, “I know that you and Adrien have known each other longer and he thinks a great deal of you. He got so concerned at the ice rink when you left. Seeing how quickly he came to your aid made me a tad envious.”

“He’s like that with everyone really.” Marinette tried to keep her emotional distance, “He’d be there in an instant for one of his friends.”

“But when one of those friends has a crush on him?” Kagami probed.

“It’s not like he notices.” Marinette clenched her hand around her pencil, “In truth, it got to be more hurt than it was worth at one point. I almost gave up on him completely in terms of romance.”

“Why?”

“You.” Marinette felt her face grow hotter, “You two get along so well and have a lot in common. When he came up to me asking for advice on how to ask you on a date it crushed me but I said yes because I want to see him happy. Whether that be with me or you or someone else.”

“It probably also helped that you had a cute older guy mooning over you the entire time we were at the rink.”

“Luka. It is a lot easier with him, that’s for sure.” Marinette shook the thought from her head, “We’re getting off track. We were supposed to be talking about how our crush on Adrien is affecting our day to day interactions.”

“Right. Yes.” Kagami straightened, “If we’re being brutally honest then I should say that I feel a little threatened by you in that regard. I’ve done everything short of confessing to Adrien and still I feel like he keeps looking back at you.”

“Threatened by me? How? You’re so confident and cool all the time. Not to mention that you’re insanely pretty. You’re like Mulan made real!”

“Are you kidding?” Kagami scoffed, “How many passions do you excel at? You can create just about anything and already have major professional contacts in different industries. Also, you wanna talk about pretty? Have you looked in a mirror recently? You little blue eyed, button nosed, cream puff! How am I supposed to compete with the definition of a cinnamon roll?”

The two girls stared at each other before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, wow,” Marinette held her belly, “A cinnamon roll? Seriously?”

“Are you serious? Confident and cool all the time?”

“You are!”

“I can’t even muster up the courage to talk to my classmates in a social capacity half the time. For class or fencing I have no problem but if it is just me trying to be casual then…” Kagami trailed off. Their laughing fit flitting away into a dark hole of insecurity and awkwardness.

“Kagami, look at us,” Marinette rested a hand on her shoulder, “We’re friends. Nanette and Quinn and Adrien are all your friends too. There is nothing for you to be nervous about. Not in front of us. Not in front of anyone.”

“We are friends.” Kagami sniffed, “And I don’t want Adrien to come between us.”

“Neither do I.”

“But I also don’t want to stop pursuing him.”

“I don’t want you too either. Just like I don’t want to stop my pursuit of him. But I think we can rope that off as its own entity.” Marinette could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“You mean the both of us keep on crushing on Adrien and try to date him but keep it civil between us.”

“Exactly. No sabotage. No jealousy. And if one of us does get to date him then we will back off and be happy for the other. Sound good?” Marinette stuck out her hand.

“Sounds perfect.” Kagami shook it. “I am so glad we got that out of the way.”

“You cannot even imagine. I was so stressed about bringing it up because it never seemed like the right moment and I didn’t want to run the risk of making you angry or ruining things further.”

“And I didn’t want to scare you off. I know I can be intimidating sometimes but I like you and I just wanted this whole uncomfortable part of our lives to disappear.”

“It’s over now.” Marinette cast her eyes down to the coffee table littered with their project supplies, “Unlike this major project we have to present in a couple days. We should probably get back to that.”

“Oh geez, I didn’t realize how long we were talking. Hand me the notes you made on the culture of our island.”

Now panicked and pressed for time before Kagami’s mother came home the two girls raced to make up for the time they had lost. By the end all that was left to do was for Marinette to take the rough draft of the map they had constructed and make it neater while Kagami ironed out their essay. They said goodbye and Marinette made Kagami promise that the next night they had free they were having a sleepover.

Marinette caught a bus home and took a few minutes to relax in her room before she jumped onto the list of other things she needed to do.

“I’m glad you worked things out with Kagami,” Tikki was sitting on Marinette’s knee munching on a cookie, “I knew the two of you would make great friends.”

“I’m more thankful that it’s over with. I never want to have a conversation like that again for at least the next year.” Marinette reached for a cookie off the tray by her computer. “Hm…”

“What is it?” Tikki perked up again. “Wave of inspiration?”

“Sorta,” Marinette booted up her computer and started searching. “Kagami is gonna love this!”

---

“And you’re sure that we can do this?” Adrien was on the phone with Chloe. Usually at this time he was talking to Marinette but Chloe had brought something to his attention that was pretty dire.

“When have you ever known me to fail?” Chloe bragged.

“It’s not that I don’t doubt you, Chloe.” Adrien was pacing his room, “But are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?”

“I’ve already explained your part in this, Adrikinz. Don’t worry about a thing and keep Dupain-Cheng’s nose out of this. I’ll call you when I have an update.”

“Can’t I at least hint at it?”

“Adrien,” Chloe’s tone was warning.

“Fine. I’ll keep my lips sealed. Goodnight, Chloe.”

“Sweet dreams, Adrien.”

They hung up and Adrien slumped onto his couch. He didn’t like the idea of keeping things from Marinette but this was a pretty big deal. Hopefully it would all work out in the end.

---

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (8)

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi #transfer au #salt fic #writing #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois

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ephemeral-afterlight · 5 years

Text

Day 10: Unconscious

(We’ll lie, we’ll die.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 10: Unconscious

Word Count: 2065

Relationships: none

Warnings: Not unsympathetic Virgil but he is kinda an asshole in this, misunderstandings, physical violence, injury (head wound), cursing, implied neurodivergent/autistic Deceit (and mislabeling stimming as anxiety)

A/N: virgil having repercussions for his actions? i love this song!

anyway, i’m sorry i’m late every day. i’m trying my best, but i’m having to write these in about an hour or so’s time, and it’s really difficult when the prompts are longer than 1k.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Virgil’s voice obviously comes as a shock to Deceit, of whom spins around from where he’s standing at the kitchen counter and hides his hands behind himself. Even as Deceit looks surprised, and a bit weary, there’s a gleam of childish excitement, and Virgil doesn’t like the look of it a single bit. The snake-like side shifts his weight between both of his feet nervously, rocks back and forth as he shyly glances up at him with bright eyes, and Virgil has a bad feeling about this.

“O-Oh, I was, uh-- I--” Deceit stammers, refusing to make eye contact, and Virgil narrows his eyes suspiciously. What the hell is he planning this time? Back when he still lived with them, Remus and Deceit played pranks all the time, and Virgil can still distinctly remember the feeling of putting his foot in his sock and it immediately being submerged in tomato sauce. Disgusting, and juvenile, and Remus hasn’t stopped calling him Spaghetti Sock since. Isn’t he creativity? Couldn’t he be a little more… you know… creative?

“Wait, are those cupcakes? What the hell do you think you’re doing messing with Patton’s stuff?” Virgil snaps when Deceit moves a bit too far to the right, exposing the tray of cakes decorated with patterns and colours to match each of the four light sides, including himself. There are light blue ones, undoubtedly Patton’s, which he decorated with hearts and outlines of cat heads. There are red ones, for Roman, which have music notes and stars. There are ones that are obviously Logan’s in dark blue, with stripes and mathematical symbols. And then there are Virgil’s, purple swirls and bats and spiders that must have terrified Patton to draw.

Deceit looks like a deer caught in headlights, and his hand flutters at his side, quickly patting the side of his thigh over and over again. He’s obviously anxious, which is a dead giveaway that he’s up to no good. Virgil doesn’t know what the hell he’s trying to do. Is he messing up the designs? Eating them himself? Throwing them away? Virgil doesn’t think Deceit is that evil or malicious, but… what if he’s trying to poison them? What if he’s using Patton’s hard work to get back at them?

“Patton’s… stuff?” Deceit questions slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and the purple cupcake he’s holding in his hand is lowered. He glances down at it, turns to look at the tray for a moment, then meets Virgil’s glare with an odd gaze of his own. “But that’s not--”

“What’s going on down here? I’m trying to get my beauty sleep, hello!” Roman’s voice booms as he walks into the kitchen to stand in front of the dining table and rub at his eyes groggily. Logan follows behind, wearing plain pajama pants and a t-shirt as a contrasting juxtaposition to Roman’s boldly patterned matching set. He doesn’t say anything, just leans against the counter and crosses his arms, and his sleepy eyes are dark and neutral where they bore into Deceit.

“Deceit’s messing with Patton’s cupcakes. He won’t tell me what he’s doing,” Virgil growls in response, twisting his jacket sleeves in either hand restlessly. Deceit just looks down at his shoes, and taps on his leg faster, and Virgil wishes he’d just stop.

“What?! You fiend! How could you deface these sweet treats?” Roman asks as he pulls out his sword from seemingly nowhere, too offended to notice Deceit shrink back in what appears to be fear. What, he can pick a fight, but he runs away as soon as he’s confronted? Coward.

“That’s not--”

“Oh, quit lying, Deceit. Just own up so I can go to bed,” Virgil blusters, raises a lip in distaste when Deceit has the nerve to look upset. He’s the one who came into their home, messed with their stuff, and of course he’s gonna make himself the victim somehow. Fucking typical.

“Virgil,” Logan snaps from beside him, and Virgil whips his head to him in surprise. Is he seriously getting in trouble for this? For Deceit trying to hurt them? He’s just trying to protect them from a lying, evil snake, and Logan’s mad at him? “You are being unnecessarily harsh. Did you even see him do anything to the cupcakes? How do you know his intentions? Did you ask him, and did you allow him to speak? No matter if you like Deceit or not, you cannot accuse him of tampering and then refuse to even allow him the chance to explain himself or clear up any potential misunderstandings. He has the right to a fair trial.”

And despite Logan of course making it into literal due process, Virgil still listens. Maybe… maybe Logan’s right. He’s been stressed out all day, and he’s exhausted from the panic attack he had a few hours ago, so… maybe he’s bringing that negativity with him. He’s… what did Dr. Picani call it? Projecting. He’s projecting his frustration onto Deceit. He just needs to calm down and try to see a different perspective. Right.

“They’re Patton’s cupcakes. I didn’t make them. I was making them look worse. They taste like shit now. I hope you hate them,” Deceit rushes out, and his eyebrows furrow immediately. He looks frustrated, and confused, and a little bit panicked, and Virgil doesn’t see any of it. Instead, he sees Patton’s dejected face when he realizes that Deceit ruined the cupcakes he made for them, the way he’ll be so sad that Deceit can’t be good, that he’s nothing more than a snake. He’s angry. So angry. And Roman lets out an insulted “Hah?!”, shows the same emotion Virgil is feeling.

“What the fuck? Who the hell do you think you are?” Virgil snarls as Deceit sets the themed cupcake that was in his hand back into its place in the pan. His head buzzes like a swarm of wasps filled with ire, and he’s itching to do something he can’t pinpoint.

“Wait, no, he’s--” Logan starts, but a single indecipherable look from the snake-like side cuts his words off. The exchange is odd, and feels too familiar to be between the two, and Virgil doesn’t even care.

“I’m not gonna-- I’m gonna leave now,” Deceit chokes out, expression distressed and mouth wobbling, and Virgil’s so fucking mad. How dare he try to throw himself a pity party? Fake-crying, seriously? Who the hell believes that? And then Deceit is clutching at his cape with white knuckles, hunched over as he tries to sweep out of the kitchen, and-- no. He’s not just going to come in here, mess up their shit, and get away with it.

In a single motion, Virgil shoves Deceit forward, watches his panic and shock when he stumbles. He watches the fear flash through his eyes, the betrayal, the resignation, and Virgil falters too late.

Deceit’s head ricochets off the edge of the counter, smacking into the granite countertop with a loud thump. The others cringe in sympathy, wince when his iconic bowler hat is sent flying to the ground where it skids to a stop beside a chair. His body comes down with him, descends when his knees give out from the pain, and his limp arms fall to rest in front of him. He slowly pulls in on himself, and then relaxes completely with his body curled around the edge of the cabinet.

“Virgil! I may have had my own outbursts before, but I cannot condone unprompted violence!” Logan hisses, reprimands digging deep to unearth the tiny loose thread of guilt from the fray ripping into Virgil’s psyche. That… that was too much, even for him. What the hell? He’s-- he’s not supposed to be the bad guy! He’s been trying to be better, and at the first sign of provocation, he immediately becomes worse than the one he’s angry at? He stooped that low in a matter of moments?

“Come on, we all know we can’t get injured. Quit being dramatic,” Roman sighs as he puts his sword away. Even he glances at Virgil with the slightest hint of surprise, crosses his arms and shifts his attention to Deceit. He looks exasperated but empathetic, something that is far from mirrored on Virgil’s own face. “Deceit. Seriously. I know that wasn’t cool of Virgil, but there’s no point in dragging this out.”

And Deceit… doesn’t answer. He may be a liar, and a slippery snake, but he has nothing to gain from faking being hurt, so what is he doing? Is he trying to guilt-trip Virgil? Not that he… not that he doesn’t kinda deserve it, but it’s an… annoying way to go about making him apologize. Which he might not even do, if Deceit’s still being an asshole when he gets up. But then Logan is kneeling down beside Deceit, shaking his shoulder with an uncommon worry in his eyes, and suddenly this whole thing doesn’t feel as nonchalant as before. “Deceit. Deceit. Wake up. Deceit!”

He doesn’t wake up.

Then Logan rolls Deceit over, displays the blood coming from the cut on the snake-like side’s forehead, shows how his head rolls to the side without any resistance, and Virgil feels his heart leap into his throat. What the fuck. What the fuck. He didn’t-- He may have been mad, but he wasn’t trying to seriously hurt him! Why isn’t he getting up? They’re sides, for Christ’s sake, they can’t get injuries like that! They heal almost instantaneously!

“He’s-- he’s not waking up. I think-- maybe he can’t wave the wound away because he was knocked unconscious? But he still should have woken up by now. I don’t understand,” Logan mutters, talks in circles around himself with a rapid-fire pace. His thoughts are clearly hard at work, assessing all available information and possible outcomes, and Virgil’s hands are shaking. Why isn’t he waking up?

“Kiddos? Why is everyone awake so late? W-- What happened in here?!” Patton shrieks as soon as he sees the blood, and his hand shoots up to cover his mouth. He has to turn and lean on the kitchen door frame for support, uses the other hand to cradle his queasy stomach, and Virgil is simultaneously relieved and terrified.

“Deceit came in here and messed with the cupcakes you made, and then Virgil got mad and pushed him,” Roman informs plainly, hands clenched at his sides with the stress of not being able to do anything to help. Virgil is in the same boat himself. His fingers twist around each other, fidgety as he incredulously watches Logan attempt to wave away the wound and subsequently fail.

“But I didn’t make cupcakes,” Patton says worriedly, eyes perturbed as he seems to try to mentally extract information from the two still standing. Of course, he can’t read their minds, so he can only speculate himself, and that allows his brain to finally process Roman’s words. “Wait, Virgil pushed him? Virgil, that’s not okay!”

“But-- you didn’t make them? Then wh--” Virgil starts, but then his voice gets locked in his throat when he comes to the obvious realization. Fuck. Fuck! He… those were… why?! Why did he just stand there? Why didn’t he just say s--

Oh.

“This is what happens when you jump to conclusions, Virgil. I thought you’d moved past this type of childish behaviour, but clearly my expectations were too high. Deceit obviously made cupcakes for us, went to the trouble of decorating them with our preferred colours and themes, and you knocked him unconscious for it,” Logan says angrily. His words are charged, and they’re completely true. Virgil can’t-- he’s so stupid. He was so caught up in himself he didn’t even bother to look at the full picture. He knows what it’s like to be the outcast, knows what it’s like to try to fit in and appeal to people the only way he knows how, and yet he still… He demonized Deceit without even bothering to put himself in his shoes. He shouldn’t even need to, because he’s been there, and he still ruined what was obviously meant to be a thoughtful gift to make peace with them. He’s such an asshole.

“I hope you’re happy with your choice, Virgil,” Logan mumbles, and Patton is conflicted, and Roman can’t even look at him, and Virgil knows he’s seriously fucked up.

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cutegirlmayra · 5 years

Text

Sonamy Week 2 - Dear Diary

Day 1 -

We just entered the dimensional portal and met up with all our older and alternate universe selves.

Mine is kinda cute, but she needs to try more. That’s just my opinion. Teehee! ^////^

Sonic and the older Sonic raced away to fight Eggman, I hope they’ll be okay... When they got back, I was so excited!!! I jumped really, really high many times to try and see them over the hill.

Sonic ducked through my leaps towards him but I caught him at a wall so he got his ‘Welcome back!’ hug. ;)

Then... I heard a weird conversation between my older, alternate universe self and older, alternate Sonic...

-------

“I just don’t remember you ever being that mean to me!” Amy held her arms tightly around her, looking away as Sonic nervously scratched the back of his head.

“M-mean?” He seemed secretly hurt by that phrasing but didn’t say anything more.

“I guess... after all these years, I only remember the good parts about our past. I never realized how much you tried to dodge me or even push me away...”

Classic Amy was hunched under a stand that was at the corner of the outside wall. Her heart sank and her eyes watered at hearing her older self say something like that...

They were there to stop Eggman... not stop her love story.

“I-... I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding, Amy.” Sonic tried to counter, but Amy just bent her eyebrows back and looked sorrowfully down to the ground.

“Hey...” she cut him off a little, jolting him back from her obvious ignorance of his last line. “Was there ever a time you really enjoyed being with me?”

“What kind of question is that?” Losing a bit of his temper, Sonic defiantly stepped back and side-stepped her. “How could you ask me something like that?”

“... Was it a loaded question?”

He folded his arms and huffed, “It’s a ridiculous question! Of course, I’ve had fun with you! We’re friends, Amy!” he spoke pretty animatedly with his hands, unfolding them to gesture around his jittery responses.

It was clear he was uncomfortable, so Amy just pouted and placed her hands confidently to her hips, striking a spirited pose.

“Fine, then. I’ll see it as boyish arrogance.” she puffed up the side of her cheek in the last fumes of her anger before popping it out with a sound as though that’s how she was letting it go. “Just maybe talk to your younger self about it. Encourage him to be more... understanding of my feelings.”

“...E...Eh?” Sonic once again seemed out of his comfort zone, not sure how to go about that, and not really sure he should be interfering with how his younger self acted. “It’s just their past, Amy. Can’t we... just drop it?”

“AH!” Both Amy’s gasped in offense, but Classic Amy quickly covered her gaping mouth outside.

Sonic retreated with a few steps back, and with each step, another bit of his hope at somehow overcoming this topic was crushed and hammered out.

“You can be so insensitive, sometimes!”

He sighed before the two heard some rustling and a few sobs.

“What was that?” Sonic asked, moving over to the door and looking out.

He watched as Classic Amy raced around the corner.

“Oh no...” He facepalmed himself, ‘Amy’s gonna kill me if she finds out her younger self heard all that...’

“What’s wrong?” Amy waited patiently within the room, and Sonic had a to look back and make a speedy decision.

“Uhh... We may have had a slight eavesdropper...” He awkwardly sweatdropped, figuring honesty was better than having her find out some other way.

“An eavesdropper? It couldn’t be...” she worriedly put her finger up to her mouth, clearly about the freak out when Sonic waved his hands out to try and settle her shivering nerves.

“Don’t worry, Amy! I’ll talk to her. I think that might be best at this point.” Sonic lowered his head in a bit of humility, ‘How could that ever be easier than just telling myself to be less obvious?’

He raced out after seeing Amy nod uncontrollably at his idea, noticing her break down might happen at any moment. He caught up to Classic Amy easily, skidding to a halt behind her.

“Wait up, Little Amy!” he smiled warmly but noticed her whole face was fearful, teary-eyed, and full of confusion.

“...Oh man.” He felt his heart take an escalator slowly up to his throat.

She slowly turned around, “W-why... Why are you so mean to me?”

The escalator had a hitch in its momentum and suddenly the icky-ucky feeling in his gut decided to take the elevator.

“I’m... I’m not mean to you...” He slowly fell to a knee, crumbling at how sweetly innocent her voice sounded. ‘Man, I remember this age.’ he thought to himself, the nostalgia getting to him. “I care an awful lot about your wellbeing.” He tried to remember she was a child, speaking in plain terms, but it still felt a little awkward.

He had memories of her overly affectionate outbreaks of kisses and hugs, and the reflex to flinch back almost triggered at just the thought of them!

He shook his head, “Sometimes,... Amy.... I’m not good with showing how I really feel.”

“...Could you write it down?” She raised an eyebrow, seeking desperately for understanding.

Now he felt both the stomach and his heart fighting for space in his throat.

He had to clear it, sending them all straight back down where they belonged. “Gee, I don’t know about that but... you can always try.”

Her face suddenly lit up with an idea then. She rubbed the tears off her eyes, and nodded. “I’ll make you one then!”

“H-huh? Make me one wha-Hey!” he reached out for her when she dashed off. “J-... Just don’t tell Amy! Or give younger me a hard time about this..! ...Oh boy.” he worried what his younger self would think, but at least it was out of his hands now.

-----

Day 3 - I’ve completed my project!

I placed my ‘Book of What Makes Me Happy’ under Sonic’s arm today. Older Sonic had said that maybe writing it down would be best, and I think so too!

I’ve recorded what I said in this book too, just so I remember what I did!

The first page is a drawing with me on it, saying --- “This is what makes me happy!” then the other pages go as follows, 1. Spending time with Sonic and his friends. 2. Going on adventures with Sonic and his friends. 3. Eating together with Sonic and his friends. 4. What makes me most happiest is when I’m with Sonic!

I contemplating drawing a wedding at the end, but I ran out of paper. :’( It’s okay though, I drew us looking out at the sunset.

While I was drawing, I tried to hide my pictures from Sonic. He had come back with his older self and tried to peek over and see what I was doing at the table.

I was really careful not to show him! >:Y I didn’t want him to ruin the surprise! But then he did something I won’t forget...

He sat down next to me and drew us drawing together, with big smiles on our faces, and laughing with one another...

Aww, it was so cute! I had to put it in The Book of What Makes Me Happy. I just had too! So the last page was his picture, which I asked if I could keep.

He didn’t write on it, but I was excited he let me keep it.

Day 4 -

Sonic’s acting weird around me... He must have seen my book, why didn’t he want to talk about it?

I put on the final page to write me a book of his happiness, so that way, I would know what made him happy too. Smart, right? :Db

Well, he’s being a jerk again! >Bc Hmph! He kept avoiding me all day and hiding something behind his back. I even threw my hammer in a tantrum, but instead of rushing over to comfort me, he sped off again! That was mean!

Older Sonic just laughed and called me a Rascal... that also hurt my feelings... but older me said he meant it in a loving way...

I don’t see it, but I trusted her anyway when he looked back and gave me a wink. That made me happy again! *//nwn//* Older Sonic is so handsome! Getting a wink from him made my day, heehee!~

Day 6 -

Sonic spoke to me again, he quickly said -- “Here! Have this!” I was so shocked but he smashed a poorly-shuffled book at me and ran.

Its cover was cardboard with the words, ‘What Makes Me Happy - Amy’s Eyes Only.’ Then a picture of himself with angry eyes. I guess that means its my response, right?

I was so excited, I just rushed to my room and closed the door right away! I didn’t know what to expect, but I’m glad I got to read it...

His book had pictures just like mine! One was him sleeping in a tree, and he wrote--well, scribbled--”What Makes Me Happy is being alone in nature.” That made me frown because it contradicted what I had said.

The next page had, “2. Fighting Robotnik and Robots!” and had him crashing into and sticking his tongue out at a badnik. It made me giggle, hehe! But I was still sad it didn’t have me in it...

“3. Watching sunsets...” This one broke my heart, he was watching the sunset alone! And he drew it just like I had! But cut me out of the picture! I was about ready to thrown down the book, but noticed there was a sliver of paper still attached to the ringlets around the book.

I turned the page and low and behold! It was a picture of all our friends! And there was a cut out section where Sonic was still watching the sunset, but now Tails, Knuckles, and even I was there! It read above it, “...Even with my friends!”

That made me very, very happy! But I noticed there was still one piece of paper left.

I flipped it over and it had me hugging Sonic on it. He drew hearts all over where I was but he put a swiggly line as his nervous smile. Aww, how cute! He’s so shy~

That one was my favorite, he wrote, “And lastly, you make me happy too.”

That was it! I was gonna marry him and no one could tell me otherwise! Hehe!!! <3 <3 <3 xoxxxxo

-----

Sonic was strolling with Classic Amy up on top of his head, playing keep-away with his younger self as he tried to take her back from him.

“You’ll never see her again! Whaha!” Sonic was clearly playing with them, but even Classic Tails joined in the fun, though it took some effort to get Classic Knuckles to see it as a game.

When Classic Sonic finally saved Classic Amy, Sonic let him have her and watched him take off with Tails and Knuckles, all heading back to the portal.

“Aww, that was sweet.” Amy approached Sonic, looking lovestruck at seeing how good he was with ‘kids’.

Sonic just chuckled, “Yeah, well... I thought a lot about what you said.”

“Really? That’s new.” Amy teased, but Sonic just rolled his eyes.

“Heh... Anyway, I wanted him to value his friendship with her. So by playing keep-away, I think I resparked that old flame.”

“...Old flame?” Amy’s eyes blinked in delight, leaning towards his eyeline and stepping in front of her. Her hands were behind her back as she swayed her body back and forth a moment. “Whatever do you mean by that, my darling Sonic~?”

“H-huh?” He head meant helping his younger self remember how much Amy meant to him, but not like this! “W-wa-wait a second! Hold on, Amy! You might have the wrong idea!”

“Oh, I think I got the right idea... hehe~ Now time to convince you it is!” she jumped at him, mimicking her younger years of flirting with him as Sonic quickly escaped her arms and began to move back, shaking his head and hands that he placed out in front of him.

“R-Really, Amy! It’s not what you think!”

“What was that? I can’t hear your sweet nothings from all the way over there~”

“Q-quit that, Amy! We’re not kids anymore! Yikes!” he took off but Amy was right on his heels!

(I’m trying to get these sonamy week prompts out on time. I hope this works ^^; )

#sonamy week #sonamyweek2019 #sonamy #sonamy prompt #sonic #sonic prompt #amy rose #classic sonamy #cutegirlmayra

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angelofthequeers · 5 years

Text

Ladybug and Reine Nuit: Chapter 6

The Bubbler

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

@miraculousl4dybug tagged as requested!

Part 5 | Part 7

“Don’t waste your time,” Adrien’s saying as Marinette and Alya draw level with him and Nino outside the school at lunchtime. “He’s not gonna change his mind.”

“Who’s not gonna change whose mind?” Alya says.

“His dad.” Nino grumpily blows bubbles with his wand. “Won’t let him have a b-day party.”

“Wait, really?” Marinette says. “That’s a load of crap! Did he let you have one last year, at least?”

“I didn’t have any friends last year,” Adrien points out.

“Oh. Right.” With a sigh and a small smile, Marinette holds out the gift that she’s holding. “Well, happy fourteenth birthday, Adrien. Even if you can’t have a party, at least we care.”

“You got me a present?” Adrien stares down at the blue wrapping paper. “You didn’t have to do that! We’ve only been friends for a few weeks!”

“We’re still friends,” Marinette says. “It’s not much but –”

“Anything from you will be the best present ever.” Adrien’s cheeks redden. “Uh – I mean – I know I’ll like it – because it’s from you – ugh –”

Marinette squints at Alya, who’s smirking behind her hand, but decides to just let it go. Adrien carefully peels off the wrapping paper, as delicate as though he was defusing a bomb, and his mouth falls open when he sees the blue knitted scarf inside.

“Handmade,” Alya chimes in, still smirking. “She nearly had an aneurism trying to figure out what colour would suit you.”

“I just remembered that you said you’d be happy to model anything I made, so…I thought you’d like it if I made you something for yourself,” Marinette says. “It’s a little plain, and it’s nowhere near the quality of the clothes you wear, but…I hope you like it.”

“Like it? Like it?” Adrien immediately wraps the scarf around his neck, then crushes Marinette in a tight hug. “I love it! Thank you, Marinette! I can’t remember the last time someone got me such a personal gift!”

“Ack – it’s nothing –” Marinette chokes. She gulps in air when Adrien finally lets her go, staring down at his new scarf as though it’s a piece of Heaven around his neck.

“Happy birthday, dude.” Nino presents Adrien with a medium-sized rectangle wrapped in green paper. Adrien beams when he uncovers a pair of headphones. “Best ones I could get! I know you could just get them yourself, but you don’t know headphones like I do.”

“I love them! Thanks, Nino!”

“Here you go, birthday boy,” Alya says, holding out a small red box. Before Adrien can take it, however, Alya is knocked aside by an unpleasantly familiar yellow figure, who proceeds to attach herself to Adrien.

“Happy birthday, Adrien!” Chloé chirps, giving him a big kiss on the cheek. “Mwah!”

“Thanks, Chloé,” Adrien says. “But you kind of pushed Alya –”

“Don’t worry about her. Did you get the gift I sent you?”

“Bitch,” Alya mutters from the ground.

“If you’re not going to be nicer than I don’t want your gift.” Adrien pushes Chloé away from him, while Nino helps Alya up. “Thanks for the birthday wishes, Chloé.”

“But –!”

“Here you go, Adrien,” Alya says loudly, holding her present out again for him to take. It turns out to be a Ladybug phone charm, which he delightedly attaches to his phone while Alya shows him the matching one on her phone. “Now we can be Ladybug besties.”

Marinette’s cheeks warm at that.

“Eh, I’m more of a Reine Nuit kinda guy,” Nino says, showing his Reine Nuit phone charm, which is black with a green paw on it.

“Uh, hello? I’m still here!” Chloé demands. She’s ignored.

“Same here!” Marinette holds up her phone to show her own Reine Nuit charm. “Ladybug’s cool and all, but she’d be nothing without Reine Nuit!”

Alya’s face flushes for a reason that Marinette can’t possibly put her finger on.

“Well, that’s my ride,” Adrien sighs when his car pulls up next to them. “Photoshoot. Later, guys.”

“Adrien –”

“Chloé, if you’re not gonna be nice to my friends then you can buzz off!” Scowling, Adrien gets into his car, leaving a stunned Marinette to hurry on to the bakery before Chloé recovers enough to throw a loud tantrum, while Alya heads back into the school and Nino heads in the opposite direction.

A couple of weeks ago, Alya might have totally freaked out at the sight of a gigantic purple bubble snatching up Ms Mendeleiev as she scolds two boys in the courtyard. Now, though? She just sighs and ducks away into a nearby empty classroom to transform, slamming the door shut just in time to avoid a bubble coming after her. Honestly, akumas have gone from awe-inspiring and surreal to just an everyday inconvenience, and this is only the third akuma that she’s ever seen.

“Go away, I’m getting my beauty sleep!” Plagg complains when Alya opens her bag.

“You’ll need another ten thousand years of that, then,” Alya says. “Plagg, claws out!”

In a flash of green light, Alya is replaced by Reine Nuit, who darts out of the room and back to the courtyard just in time to see her classmates caught in a massive bubble. The person behind the bubble is…absolutely hideous. Whoever this Hawkmoth is, Reine Nuit is going to be having very strong words about colour coordination, because blue skin with a bright red cropped shirt and yellow accents? Ugh. Especially with the black around his eyes, the ridiculous red stalk on his head, and the red, blue, and yellow leg warmers. At least his pants are black and not another outlandish colour. And at least there’s no green in there; Reine Nuit’s pride is sufficiently intact with the knowledge that this akuma hasn’t jacked her secondary colour.

“Come on, dudes!” the akuma says in an awfully familiar voice. “We’re gonna have a party for Adrien and it’s gonna be rockin’!”

Reine Nuit’s eyes widen. Nino? How the hell did Nino even end up akumatised in the first place? Probably over Adrien not being able to have a birthday party, judging by how he’s currently abducting their classmates to celebrate.

“Hey!” Reine Nuit leaps into the centre of the courtyard. “Let them go, Nino!”

“It’s Bubbler now!” Nino declares. “And you’ll be Adrien’s guest of honour!”

Reine Nuit dodges the first two bubbles that Bubbler sends easily. She bats another away with her baton, then leaps off a nearby pillar to narrowly avoid a fourth. But she’s not the lucky hero here; Bubbler’s next bubble catches her, knocking her onto her face as it floats up to join the bubble with her classmates.

“This is gonna be the best party ever!” Bubbler says, rising into the air with his captives and soaring towards Adrien’s mansion. Reine Nuit scowls and rolls onto her back so that she can cross her arms. That little shit Plagg had been right when he’d called her impulsive and brawny. If she tries hard enough, she can just imagine his smug smirk, but doing that makes her want to rip her own eyes out, so she forces her brain in another direction.

How is she going to get out of this? She can’t use her Cataclysm unless she wants to plummet to her doom, what with how high in the sky they are. And besides, there’s no guarantee that she’d manage to get away from Bubbler, and then she’ll be stuck timing out and revealing her identity. No, the best thing she can do for now is wait for Ladybug.

In the Agreste courtyard, tables of food and a DJ station have already been set up; clearly Bubbler’s doing before coming to kidnap the party guests. He frees the students from their bubble, but keeps Reine Nuit trapped next to the DJ station, no doubt so that he can keep an eye on her.

“Get ready!” Bubbler orders when the mansion doors start to open. As soon as Adrien emerges, the guests start to cheer and wish him a happy birthday while side-eyeing Bubbler and his giant bubble wand.

“Hooray, yay, happy birthday,” Reine Nuit deadpans, crossing one leg over the other while reclining in her bubble. May as well make herself comfortable until Ladybug arrives.

“Hey, hey, hey, birthday boy!” Bubbler booms. “Guess what? Daddy’s gone! While the cat’s away, the mice will play!”

Adrien’s eyes widen. “Nino?” That’s as far as he gets before a red yo-yo wraps around his waist and sends him flying past the crowd and straight into Ladybug’s arms, where she’s perched on a low fence.

“Hey!” Bubbler whips out his bubble wand. “Give me back my bro!”

“Sorry, but the party’s over!” Ladybug meets Reine Nuit’s eyes and winks. “I’m taking the birthday boy out!” She turns and leaps away with Adrien. Bubbler snarls and zooms after her in a burst of bubbles, leaving Reine Nuit unsupervised at last.

“Cataclysm!” Reine Nuit pops her bubble and lands in an awesome superhero crouch, while the party guests (minus Chloé) cheer. Reine Nuit’s eyes dart around in search of food to refuel Plagg when she times out, and her face lights up at the sight of a massive cheese platter on one of the tables, with – thank god! – Camembert. She runs over and grabs the plate, then salutes the party guests. “Gotta split! Thanks for the snack!”

Her ring beeps as soon as she rounds a corner, so she says, “Claws in,” and lets Plagg out. He falls into her free hand, groaning dramatically and swooning.

“I’m ever so hungry!” he moans. “How will I go on? I – Camembert!”

“Yeah, yeah, hurry up,” Alya says as Plagg devours the cheese platter. “Ladybug needs my help.”

“Gouda’s real nice,” Plagg says thoughtfully. “Not as good as Camembert, but it’s still got that delicious taste of –”

“Plagg!”

“I gotta say, this is the best birthday present ever!” Adrien says as Ladybug hops and swings through Paris with Bubbler on her tail. “Besides the scarf my friend made me, of course.”

Ladybug fights back her wide smile at Adrien’s words. Instead, she says, “I’ll make sure to gift-wrap it next year!” and takes a sharp right to avoid Bubbler’s bubbles, making Adrien clutch her around the neck even tighter.

“Give me back the birthday boy!” Bubbler shouts. “You’re, like, totally ruining the party, dude!”

“Then bring back the adults!” Ladybug calls over her shoulder.

“Never! Adults are boring! All they do is boss us around!”

“Kids need adults!” Ladybug throws her yo-yo and swings in a wide arc to land behind Bubbler, then run back the way they came. Bubbler skids to a halt in mid-air and resumes chasing after her. “Adults look after kids!”

“Most of them, anyway,” Adrien mutters rather bitterly.

“Ugh, you wanna be an adult? Then go and join them!”

In her attempt to dodge Bubbler’s next attack, Ladybug slips on a roof tile and goes flying over the fence of the park, screaming. She instinctively wraps herself around Adrien and braces herself to take the brunt of the impact, since she’s the one with the super suit that protects her bones and squishy parts and Adrien isn’t. As it is, he’s still groaning when they finally stop rolling.

“Adrien!” Ladybug dives to protect Adrien again but she’s too late; Bubbler’s bubble captures him and lifts him into the air, too high for Ladybug to risk trying to pop the bubble in case she can’t catch him and he ends up breaking his neck.

“Just chill there, bro,” Bubbler says to Adrien, then looks at Ladybug. “As for you, you’re gonna learn that what goes up doesn’t always go down!”

“Ms Mendeleiev would disagree,” Ladybug says. “Isn’t that one of the three Newtonian laws?”

“I’m a rainbow guy who can blow magic bubbles to trap people,” Bubbler deadpans. “What part of this do you think follows science, dude?”

“…That’s actually a good point. Gah!” Ladybug ducks to avoid a surprise bubble attack.

“Stand still, will you?”

“Why would I willingly stand still and let you catch me?”

God, what she wouldn’t give for Reine Nuit’s help right now. Bubbler’s sending attack after attack, wearing her down, giving her no chance to retaliate unless she wants to risk a bubble to the face. She can’t even use her Lucky Charm in case Reine Nuit turns up and she then has to come up with a whole new plan.

“Ladybug! No!” Adrien cries when Bubbler sends out a swarm of green bubbles that surround Ladybug and then hone in on her. She squeezes her eyes shut, expecting to go flying at any moment…but that moment never comes.

“Ugh, seriously?” Bubbler whines as Ladybug opens her eyes. She can’t help the wide grin that spreads across her face at the sight of Reine Nuit in front of her, staff in front of her, clearly having deflected the green bubble attack for Ladybug. “You again?”

“You left me,” Reine Nuit seethes, “in a bubble.”

“That’s…kinda my job, dude. I’m the Bubbler.” A purple mask outline appears over Bubbler’s face, and Ladybug and Reine Nuit exchange frowns. What does that mean? “I know, I know, Hawkdude.”

“Hawkmoth can speak to them?” Reine Nuit mutters.

“Makes sense,” Ladybug murmurs back. “Why turn someone into a supervillain if you can’t keep track of them?”

“Give me your Miraculouses!” Bubbler demands, holding out his hand. “Or Adrien won’t get his super cool party that he totally deserves!”

“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I want a party from Nino,” Adrien says, his phone out to record the confrontation from inside his bubble. Of course. “Not a supervillain made by some guy with zero fashion sense.”

“I know I look like a douchebag,” Bubbler says. “But I still got powers!” He shoots a jet of red bubbles at Ladybug and Reine Nuit, who leap behind a tree and a bush respectively to dodge the attack, then leap out to dive at Bubbler together. He smirks and summons a bubble to lift him out of the way, resulting in Ladybug and Reine Nuit colliding head-on and crumpling to the ground in a groaning heap.

“Maybe you should Lucky Charm it,” Reine Nuit moans, trying to untangle herself from Ladybug’s legs. She winces when Ladybug accidentally kicks her in the head. “Ow!”

“Seriously?” Bubbler says. “You guys are pathetic.” With a wave of his bubble wand, he has them trapped in a bubble together and floating metres off the ground, only to sigh when the purple mask reappears over his face. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing, dude? Just wait for ‘em to run out of air, then I can grab their things without a fight.” A pause. “Yeah, I might look hideous but I do have good ideas.”

“I think you’re right,” Ladybug says, pushing herself up. “Lucky Charm!”

“Okay, wow, I’m glad I didn’t get the earrings,” Reine Nuit says when Ladybug is given a ladybug-patterned long-sleeved shirt. “Although to be fair, that is still more fashionable than what that guy’s wearing.”

“Hmm.” Ladybug frowns as she looks around, her mind frantically working overtime to try and concoct a plan to get the akuma’s bubble wand, which is no doubt where the nasty akuma is hiding. Her eyes land on Reine Nuit, a nearby tree, Adrien’s bubble, and then Bubbler. “Got it! Reine Nuit, I need you to get us out of here and then make him go near that tree. Use Adrien as bait!”

“You already have a plan?” Reine Nuit says incredulously. “It’s only been, like, two seconds! Whatever. Cataclysm!”

Once they’re free from the bubble, Reine Nuit heads for Adrien and uses her staff to propel his bubble in the direction of the tree that Ladybug had indicated. With a growl, Bubbler follows and shoots a jet of bubbles at Reine Nuit, and Ladybug takes advantage of the intense battle between her partner and the villain to scale the tree without being noticed. She holds the shirt open from the bottom, then leaps out of the tree to crash on top of Bubbler with a bellow. Just as planned, the shirt slips over his head and pins his arms to his sides, rendering his bubble wand useless. Ladybug hums as she ties the sleeves around Bubbler to make the shirt stay, then easily pries the wand from his hand.

“No more evildoing for you, little akuma,” she says, snapping the bubble wand to release the purple butterfly, which she snags with her yo-yo. Once it’s purified and is flapping off into the distance, Reine Nuit hands Ladybug the shirt that she’d yanked off Bubbler, and Ladybug smiles at her partner as she takes it and throws it up into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

“This is so cool! I was supervillain bait!” Adrien cries, dancing on the spot when the healing ladybugs deposit him on the ground after dissolving his bubble.

“Wow, you really are sheltered,” Reine Nuit comments dryly.

“Like you wouldn’t have been the same if you hadn’t been a superhero,” Ladybug teases. Reine Nuit snorts.

“Okay, point.”

With the damage undone, Bubbler falls to his knees and his hideous outfit melts into purple-black nothingness to reveal Nino.

“How’d I get here?” he blinks, looking around with furrowed eyebrows.

“You were an akuma! You totally abducted me and everything!” Adrien says.

“Pound it!” Ladybug and Reine Nuit chorus, doing their fist-bump.

“Sorry, dude,” Nino says glumly. “I probably ruined the whole day for you.”

“Are you kidding?” Adrien says gleefully. “Best. Birthday. Ever!”

“Alright, let’s get the birthday boy back home,” Ladybug says. She scoops Adrien up bridal style and turns to Reine Nuit. “Are you okay to take Nino back to school?”

“You bet!” Reine Nuit gives her a thumbs-up and then approaches Nino, kneeling to be on eye level with him. “Don’t feel bad, okay? I mean, there are way worse reasons to become an akuma than wanting to celebrate a friend’s birthday.”

“But I’m the one who got upset,” Nino says.

“Hey, this is Hawkdouche’s fault. Not yours. Don’t ever think that feeling things is wrong.”

“I think she’s got it well covered,” Ladybug says. With a flick of her wrist, she’s swinging out of the park and through the streets in the direction of the Agreste mansion, Adrien whooping and holding on tight. Once they land in the mansion courtyard, now free of party guests and DJ equipment, Ladybug sets Adrien down.

“Thanks for saving my friend, Ladybug,” Adrien says, scratching the back of his neck. Ladybug smiles.

“It’s what I do.” On impulse, she quickly kisses his cheek, giggling at how his face immediately flushes dark red. “Happy birthday, Adrien.” Then she’s off, swinging through Paris to get back to the bakery before she transforms back.

“There you are!” Marinette hugs Nino when he and Adrien are back at school at the end of lunch. “Are you alright? I heard you got akumatised!”

“Yeah,” Nino sighs. “I was super bummed that Adrien’s dad wouldn’t let him party. But Reine Nuit told me not to blame myself.”

“She’s right, you know,” Alya says from behind Marinette. “It’s not like anyone actually wants one of those icky butterflies in their head.”

“Did your father at least get you a birthday present if he’s not letting you have a party?” Marinette says. Adrien shrugs.

“A pen. Same as the last three years.” His face brightens. “But I got to swing around Paris with Ladybug and get up close to an akuma, so I’d say that more than makes up for it! Plus, I got these awesome gifts from you guys.”

“Too bad you didn’t get a selfie with Ladybug,” Alya smirks as they head into the school. Adrien groans loudly.

“I didn’t even think of that! A selfie would’ve been the best present ever! You think if I pray loudly enough, she’ll hear me?”

Marinette just grins and rolls her eyes. “You can certainly try.”

#miraculous ladybug #aotq fic #aotq: reine nuit au #chat!alya #marinette dupain-cheng #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #bubbler #the bubbler #reverse crush #adrien what happened to being a normal kid #normal kids don't chase death #but nice spine though #chloe stfu #plagg you little shit #plagg

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villnis-archive · 5 years

Photo

So several months ago @frenchy-and-the-sea and I agreed on an art trade and for some reason I kept really struggling with my half, but I finally finished it and it’s here! :D You can (and should!) read her half of the trade here!

She also wrote a little something to go with this drawing (I guess we kinda caught each other in a bit of a creative boost circle for a little while) that she wanted me to post along with this, so you can (and should!) read that below! :D

There was always so much time on watches.

It hadn’t used to bother Val. Time was a resource that came and went with the weather on a ship, on the road - sometimes there could never be enough of it, sometimes it came in long, painful stretches that required all of her arts to fill. She had plenty of them, of course; more now, with her newly found introduction to lute-playing and her two very patient teachers. Tonight, though, her fingers found no purchase on the strings, no comfort in the rhythmic back and forth of an oiled cloth along a blade. Instead, she found herself sitting numbly by the fire and staring into the surrounding dark, watching the flickering shadows cast off by the fire and trying not to let her thoughts go running off with them.

Not that it stopped them. Not that she didn’t look out into that dark and see the gaps that her mind could not fill between the words of the book in her pack; not that she didn’t imagine lilies and lips on her cheek, and the pressing, pining need for further; not that everything on the horizon still looked like empty funeral grounds sometimes, like ships on fire, like….

“Hey.”

She nearly leapt clear out of her skin at the sound of the voice a few feet away, only just managing to root herself to the earth with a claw digging in.

“Hi,” she ground out after a moment, the words slow through her clenched teeth. Ianry stopped halfway through his stroll around the fire and raised an eyebrow.

“You alright?” he asked slowly. Val snorted.

“Fine, if you account for the fact that my heart is now trying to get out of my chest with a hammer.” She sighed and took a deep breath, releasing her grip on the dirt. “What are you doing awake?”

“I’m always awake,” said Ianry, shrugging. He set himself carefully beside the fire and leaned forward, wiggling a few fingers and coaxing the flames higher. “Elf, remember?”

Val huffed. “Care to explain why I’m stuck on dawn watch anyway, then?”

“Very simple.” He wiggled his finger again, and the whole fire blazed a brief, scalding blue. “It’s boring. I don’t wanna sit here doing nothing for six hours either.”

Fair enough, Val thought. Tonight, she hardly wanted to do it for three.

“What were you doing, anyway?” Ianry’s voice called her attention back to where he was absently tossing handfuls of tinder into the flames. “I mean, I did walk right up behind you without you noticing so...”

“So I clearly wasn’t watching, right? Yeah.” Val sighed and sank back onto her hands, stealing a glance up at the sky. Overhead, the navigator’s star winked back. “Dunno. Just thinking, I guess.”

There was silence for a long moment, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ianry fix her with a narrow, searching look. She turned her head, pretending not to have seen it. She knew that expression, after all - the one that tried to suss out all the reasons for a thousand yard stare, for silence. A sharp, bitter part of her wanted to snap at him to keep his eyes and his thoughts and his thousand burning questions as far away from her as possible. She didn’t have the words tonight, and didn’t he understand? Didn’t he realize that she had no good, respectable answers for yawning terror that had torn open in her gut the moment she had realized that her life had a goal now? Had plans? Had wants and needs and a future, things that would have to carve whole parts of her away when they were inevitably taken, things that she could not hide behind a shield? Didn’t he know how much she would lose?

There was suddenly another shift on her right, somewhere beside the fire.

“Do you want a braid again?”

Val frowned, turning slowly back towards where Ianry was eyeing her over. He still had the particular look that said he had eighteen other questions scalding his mind - the same look he conjured whenever a particularly intense problem presented itself to him - but he just tipped his head and gestured towards her again.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be a braid. You just said you liked it last time, and I think it’s the one thing you’d be the least likely to ruin when you’re, you know, out slaying sea monsters or whatever...”

He shrugged, and glanced sidelong, and Val felt the dark well of terror in her chest close up, just slightly. Ianry could be thick as steel and impulsive as a drunkard turned loose on the world at times, but he had some sense about the sorts of things that found people on a silent night’s watch. He’d dealt with them plenty, she thought, with a soft tightening of her heart. She’d asked him to let her help, when he’d let her see the worst of it.

At least she could let him try returning the favor.

Pushing back upright, she dragged her dirty hands across the thighs of her trousers and shrugged. “If you’d like.”

It was hardly an answer - hardly thankful, at that - but Ianry didn’t seem to notice. He leapt to his feet in an instant, wandering over to her side of the fire as she scooted further away from the heat of it and put her back to him. The dirt crunching behind her was the only warning she got before fingers pushed into the tangle of hair gathered at the crown of her head and began sorting through the mess of it. She heard Ianry grunt, and managed a chuckle.

“Regretting your decision already, are you?” she asked. Ianry grumbled something she couldn’t understand. “Don’t get mad. I’ll be impressed if you can do anything with it at all, in that state.”

“It’s not that bad,” Ianry said, in plain Common this time. “I used to do Hilla’s back at school. Her hair was kinda like yours, and she got it tangled with a bunch of weird magic stuff all the time.”

The sniff of disdain in his voice coaxed another chuckle out of her, stronger this time. “I’ve never heard you say ‘weird magic stuff’ with quite that kind of frustration, Ianry. You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Wizards,” he sneered, so dramatically that Val accidentally tugged his captive hands forward as she buckled into a laugh.

“So you were rather fond of her, then,” she said when she’d been forcefully righted again, squinting through the pained tears needling her eyes. Ianry just snorted, and separated another few curls from the mass.

“I mean, yeah. She was my girlfriend.” His fingers suddenly paused, hesitating. “I mean, that’s how you feel about Rona, right?

A pleasant knot suddenly curled against the curve of Val’s stomach at the name, and she laughed, softer this time. “Yes, Ianry. I’m, ah, rather fond too.”

She felt him nod. “Good,” he said, with a decisiveness that made her snicker. There was another long pause as his hands combed through another length of hair. “And how’s, uh….how’s that going?”

“Ahh,” Val hummed, “I think I see what this is now. Offering to have me sit still for an hour so I’m a captive audience to all of your questions, eh?”

Ianry huffed. “Oh, sure, go ahead and think the worst of me. I guess we’ll just sit in silence for the next two hours while I do this -”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It’s been going fine.” She chuckled again as Ianry mumbled a few choice - and wholly theatrical - curses under his breath. Then she felt the sound catch painfully in her throat; the ache had flared in her gut again, clawing for attention.

She let her gaze drop to the dirt, one claw twisting anxiously in the fabric of her trousers.

“It’s a bit...frightening though, isn’t it?”

Ianry hummed, his hands never stopping. “What is?”

She swallowed. “Fondness. What it does to you. What it can -”

Good sense cut her off before the word made it out properly, but the slowing of the fingers in her hair told her well enough that Ianry hadn’t needed it. Val felt her breath stick to the inside of her ribs, pounding very faintly with her heartbeat. Stupid, she told herself. Stupid to bring it up, stupid to worry, stupid to say it out loud, in front of -

“Well, yeah,” Ianry said after a moment, the fingers in her hair beginning to work again. “But, I mean...what're you gonna do? Just stop feeling it?”

There was another shift - a casual, one-shouldered shrug this time - and then Ianry’s hands moved and a thick mass of hair suddenly tumbled forward over her eyes.

She didn’t flinch, didn’t say anything; just sat there, temporarily blind, her mind whirling slowly around the words. There was something like sense in them, behind all of his shrugging. Ridding herself of fondness, snuffing it out like some sagging tallow candle just because she was afraid that something else might get to it first… she didn't deserve that. Her friends didn’t deserve that. Rona, most of all, didn't deserve that.

If nothing else, Val thought, she could hold on a little harder if it meant doing right by her.

After a moment, the blindfold of hair vanished, and Val could clearly see across the length of the entire clearing, unfettered by darkness now and glowing in the soupy grey light of the coming dawn. She leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees, folding both hands into her lap like a dutiful school child.

“You know,” she said quietly, “you might just be right about that.”

Ianry snorted, and Val very politely pretended not to hear the relief in it. “Of course I'm right,” he said. “I'm always right! People should always listen to me, all the time.”

She scraped together enough of her wherewithal to chuckle, thin but genuine at last, and Ianry made a big show of grumbling something under his breath that she could tell he didn't mean. Then he paused, and Val felt him lean forward over her shoulder.

In fact,” he said, in a conspiratorial whisper that she could tell her was forcing through a grin, “you know what else I'm right about? The way to try and kiss someone shorter than you. I know you probably haven't practiced much since you and Rona are moving slower than honey in an icebox, but trust me; it takes practice and expert advice, which I happen to have -”

Val groaned, trying her marked best to hide her face and the laugh threatening at the back of her throat.

It was going to be a very long sunrise.

#arting tag #oc: ianry #friend ocs #friend fic #pile of idiots #stuff for me #<3333

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cuddlyyeti · 6 years

Text

day 18 of 30 days of monsters: animal (werewolf, because im a cheat)

You roll into town as a bundle of excited energy. It’s not a particularly large place, old and born of the necessity of living on the outskirts of a forest, but it’s large enough that you don’t feel weird about appearing as an outsider. The buildings are close-knit and beautiful, and the people appear to match.

The forest is the real reason you were here: it’s a perfect destination for hiking, some light climbing, and general outdoorsy-ness. Untouched in most places, except for some managed tree felling, it’s a perfect little piece of serenity that you can’t wait to delve into.

But first, you speak a little to the owner of your accommodation: a jovial, kindly older woman who knows more about this town than you know about… well. Anything. She tells you the best place to grab some dinner—wonderful, because you’re starving—and the cheapest place to pick up some basic necessities when you tell her you’re going hiking. You expect a warning about wandering into the forest, but she seems to think it’s perfectly safe, only warning you that you’ll have to take a key with you if you’re wanting to be out late.

By the time you fall asleep that night, you’re full of the peculiar feeling of being right at home.

About a mile in, the path sort of disappears, and you’re in your element having to figure out where to go. With your map and your compass, you feel like you can find your way anywhere. To your one side, a babbling stream makes it’s determined way towards a river you can’t yet see, to the other, trees with trunks wider than your leg is long stretch ever upwards, a comforting ceiling that diffuses the harsh sunlight. It’s like you’re in a fairytale.

At least it is until you take your eyes off of where you’re going for half a second about three hours into your hike and you slip on a wet rock you hadn’t noticed. You yelp as you fall backwards, and wince when something sharp slices across one of your calves.

As calmly as you can, you hobble over to the base of a tree and try and stem the blood flow. It’s painful, but not that deep, and you’d been prepared with a first aid kit. You hadn’t been prepared to hear a low whine from right beside you.

Right there, plain as day, is a wolf. It’s a big ol’ creature, bigger than you’d ever expected one to be, and it’s weird as hell because WOLVES DON’T LIVE IN THIS FOREST. There were no predators in these woods, the only real threats being dehydration and other people. But… that’s a real wolf. A huge one. And it’s staring at you with wide, amber eyes, and it’s whining.

It stalks closer to you, closer and closer until you can feel it’s breath on your leg. And then it… licks your wound. Wet and rough and gentle, it laps at the blood that escapes to trickle down your leg until it’s clean, then nudges your hand until you move it so it can lick at the wound itself. You can’t help yourself, feeling enthralled to let it do what it wants.

“Uh… thanks? Good… wolf?” you say, tempted to try and pet it but holding yourself back. You’d already injured your leg, you weren’t willing to sacrifice your hands.

The wolf has different ideas. It nudges at your hand until it’s atop it’s head, pretty much begging you to give it some attention. Before you know it, you’re up and walking, following it’s path towards an old cabin, a dark wooden structure that looks as homely as it does part of the landscape—saplings and old trees alike seem to crowd around it, holding it close with their stretching limbs.

As if it’s lived there all it’s life, the wolf leaps up the stairs of the porch, nudging the door open with it’s nose and staring back at you, as if inviting you in.

“That looks like someone’s house, wolfy. I don’t—” the wolf runs behind you, nudging you through the door with its head. “I guess I do, uh—hello?”

No one answers your call. You take a few more steps inside, admiring the clean but tired decor, and find what looks like… a home. It must be, because the wolf happily jumps up onto the couch, paws up on the back so that it can look at you, tongue hanging out happily.

Beside yourself, you smile back, petting the pup on the head and taking a seat beside it. Soon enough, the wolf is curled up, head on your lap, and you’re drifting off to sleep in the dim light of the early evening, under the warm blanket of fur.

Waking up the next day is a confusing mix of sensations: the dull throb of your leg, the blinding light of the morning sun, the warm, soft cosiness of a thick blanket, and the smell of cooking breakfast. Nothing smells like your room in the bed and breakfast, and when you sit up, nothing looks like it either. Adrenaline kicks in when you hear someone moving towards the room you’re in, but just as you think you’ve found somewhere to hide, they enter the room.

A careful, curious face peers around the doorway, eyes widening in surprise as they catch yours.

“Oh! I wasn’t expecting you to be awake yet… I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you.”

“I… think the light woke me up,” you say, carefully. “Who are you? Where… where am I?”

The person at the door moves further into the doorway, and you can see now that they’re wearing very casual clothes, but they’re effortlessly beautiful—long, thick hair, warm brown skin, a comforting smile and kind eyes—and you’re struck by a feeling of safety.

“Well, you were in the forest—do you remember that?” When you nod hesitantly, they continue. “You fell, and I—my dog found you? And I guess she brought you here so I could help you? When I got back, you were on the sofa, fast asleep.”

Slowly, you nod, things coming back to you. A hike — some blood — a wolf — this house.

“Thank you, uh—”

“Hawthorne,” she says, smiling at you, and shuffling towards you, sitting on the bed by your knees. “My name is Hawthorne. And you?”

“Y/N. Um, thank you for letting me stay. I could’ve been an axe murderer!”

“Nah, I checked your backpack—you didn’t have an axe. Thought I’d be fine as long as I kept you away from the knives.” She winks, and you flush. “Breakfast should be ready soon, if you want to join me. I didn’t know what you’d like so I made, kind of… everything. There should be some spare clothes hanging around, if you wanna change.”

You nod, and she leaves, giving you privacy. After prodding around for a while, you head back into the front room and watch as Hawthorne cooks in the open kitchen—her graceful movements, and her total comfort keep a little smile on your face as you take a seat on a stool.

“So, where’s your dog?”

Something clatters to the ground, making you jump. When Hawthorne curses, it feels like those sort of words rarely pass her lips. “Uh—she’s out. Wandering? She can get a little restless…”

It’s a curious answer, but since she’s currently feeding and housing you, you think it’s best not to push. Instead you draw the conversation away until she’s done cooking, then, together, you devour the breakfast spread pretty entirely. Your appetite is so big that once you start eating, you barely come up for air. Hawthorne looks on at you with fondness. Between bites the two of you talk: you ask her about her life in the forest, she asks about your travels, about the places you’ve hiked. You discuss the town, you discuss… well, you discuss pretty much everything. It’s a breath of fresh air.

“D’ya like a guide back to town? I just realised that you might not be able to follow the trail w—my dog took you on yesterday.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’d be lovely, thank you—as long as I’m not like, ruining the flow of your day?”

“No! No, uh, it’d be a welcome change,” she insists, smiling wide at you. “I tend to spend a lot of time alone out here. You’re really good company, and I’m not just saying that because I’m a hermit.”

That draws a good-natured chuckle from you. It’s hard to imagine someone as hospitable and friendly as Hawthorne being a hermit, or being alone at all. It’s also hard to understand why she lives in such seclusion—she’s young, and beautiful, and magnetic—you’re sure she’d have a pretty great life in the city. But seeing how comfortable and at home she is in these woods as she guides you back gives you a little bit of an answer. She smiles and shows you everything from random mushrooms (edible and poisonous) to naming every bird above you by its call or nest alone.

You’d barely known her for a couple of hours, but you could feel yourself connecting to her.

When you reach the treeline, Hawthorne stops. “I guess you can find your way from here?”

“Yeah! Thank you so, so much, Hawthorne. I don’t know what I’d have done without you,” you say earnestly.

“It’s no problem…” she rubs at the back of her neck, looking down. When your eyes focus on her face, you can tell she’s blushing. “Pretty sure my dog did most of the work.”

“Well, give her my thanks too! See you around?”

“Yeah. See you around.”

Before she turns to walk away, something possesses you to give her a quick, brief hug, and after she initially tenses, she returns it.

When you get back to your accommodation, the owner greets you with a smile and a nod. “So, you met our good ol’ wolf yesterday, huh?”

“Yeah, I uh, I found myself in a bit of a situation. That wolf is… really something!”

“She is,” she agrees. “Hawthorne has been a wonderful protector of these parts for so long… it makes these parts so much safer! I don’t know why she doesn’t come and live up here with the rest of us, though,” she sighs.

“Wouldn’t people be a bit worried about her walking around with her big wolf by her side? I mean, she’s really friendly, but she’s kinda scary at first glance!”

“Oh, sweetie! Thought you realised—Hawthorne is our wolf!”

#yeti words #werewolf gf #werewolf girlfriend #monster girlfriend #theres not much dating really its just... meeting her?#ill probably do another one but idk #these r just going up when they're done tbh ;a;

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wrassleslashlibraryarchive · 6 years

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🎃💀👻You’re wearing the same costume as my friend and I’m sorry for sneaking up on you like that I didn’t meant to scare you so badly/tacklehug you…oh my god, please don’t cry/hit me…🎃💀👻

Relationship: Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins

Title: Moon of My Life

WSL Prompt Contest Entry number: S1

Summary: none provided by author

Dean’s probably had one too many to drink, but he’s been stuck at this party for hours, waiting for Roman to finally arrive, and waiting is fucking boring, okay? There’s only so much waiting a guy can do when he knows no one, and one drink turned into two turned into four, and he feels good, loose and relaxed and mellow, just enough beer in his system for a pleasant buzz.

The party is some Halloween shindig Roman was invited to, and because he didn’t want to go alone to a party where he’d only know his coworkers, he’d begged and pleaded until Dean finally caved and agreed to tag along.

Who throws parties on a Sunday, Dean wants to know, because if it were a Friday or a Saturday, Dean would be at home, babysitting for Roman so that Roman could be here, with his wife.

Roman had said he’d be late, that he had to make a stop before he’d arrive, some shit about the finishing touches on his costume or whatever, Dean doesn’t remember, but that was hours ago. Hours and hours and he should’ve been here already, but Dean’s looked everywhere, and there’s only so much solo drinking Dean can do before he starts to feel like a pathetic loser, standing off to the side like a fucking loner.

He meanders back into the kitchen, anyway, the cup in his hand once again empty. Might as well grab another beer since it doesn’t look like Roman plans on showing up anytime soon. The rooms are all packed, hazy with smoke, and everyone is dressed in some kind of costume or another.

Dean? Dean doesn’t do costumes, is wearing his usual beat up boots, jeans with a rip in the knee, a plain white t-shirt, and his leather jacket.

But here? There’s everything from Superman to Batman, Minnie Mouse to Cinderella, firemen to doctors to nurses, in all states of dress and undress..

There’s a group of people crowding around the keg, and Dean grins, because Roman is finally here, that late ass shithead. He stumbles a little as he moves forward, too many people to walk through without tripping or stumbling over someone’s foot, slings an arm around Roman’s shoulder and scrubs a hand through his hair, knowing Roman will curse him to hell and back for ruining the neat braid he has it pulled back in.

Only, it’s not Roman who turns to look at him. It’s someone Dean’s never seen before, with big brown eyes, a neatly trimmed beard, and an irritated look on his face.

”Sorry,” Dean says quickly, removing his arm and shoving his hand into his pocket. He’s been hit for a lot less, and this guy looks like he’s seriously thinking about throwing a punch. “Thought you were someone else, sorry.”

The guy’s irritated expression rapidly changes into one of amusement, however, and he claps a hand to Dean’s chest, says, “Don’t worry about it, man.”

”S’just, my friend Roman, said he’d be wearin’ somethin’ like that. You kinda look like him,” Dean explains, though he’s not quite sure why. Probably all the beer he’s had. Or the fact that Roman is eight thousand fucking hours late, and Dean’s bored, in dire need of someone–anyone–to talk to.

”Khal Drogo?” the guy asks, “from Game of Thrones?”

Dean nods. He’s pretty sure that’s what Roman had said he was going to be dressed as. Dean’s never seen an episode in his life, so he has no idea who or what Khal Drogo is, only that the costume involves not a whole lot of clothing, because the guy standing in front of him is shirtless, some kind of leather-like corset thing around his waist, and a pair of mud-stained khakis that are rolled up past his ankles, his feet bare.

”Think so, yeah,” Dean says.

”What about you?” the guy asks, gesturing wildly with the hand that’s not holding his drink. “Who’re you s’posed to be? It’s a pretty cool costume.”

Dean laughs, shakes his head. “Costume? This ain’t a costume. I dress like this every day, man.”

The guy looks at him with wide, brown eyes, his mouth dropped open a little. “Oh.”

There are a thousand and one things that float through Dean’s head at once, but the one that sticks is jesus, what a fuckin’ pretty mouth, and that he wouldn’t mind getting infinitely more intimate with it.

There’s already a bolt of want that settles and simmers low in his belly at the sight of a pink tongue swiping over that bottom lip, and Dean’s had just enough to drink that the idea of wrapping his hand around this guy’s wrist and hauling him off to the closest empty room is sounding better and better with each second that passes.

Beer makes Dean horny, whatever, sue him.

An arm around his shoulders stops him from moving forward, however, halting his plans for the moment.

”Yo, Deano, where you been?” Roman’s ruffling Dean’s hair, and he somehow has a cup filled with beer, though Dean hasn’t seen him in the kitchen once in the hours he’s been here. “Seth, c’mon, I thought we agreed you’d wear somethin’ different.”

Who the fuck is Seth, Dean wants to ask, but then the guy dressed just like Roman starts talking, and oh, oh, that’s Seth. Seth, alright, okay.

”Nah, man,” Seth says with a shake of his head. “We didn’t agree on anything.”

Dean looks back and forth between Roman and Seth, wondering how the fuck Roman knows him, and why the hell he kept him hidden from Dean. That’s–that’s unacceptable, really.

”No, you said you’d just wear somethin’ different because you didn’t wanna look like a lame knock-off when I look just fuckin’ like Jason Momoa.” Roman sounds legitimately pissed off, and it’s more than a little amusing to Dean, because Roman is fucking unflappable even in the most stressful of situations.

”I’m the one who got you into Game of Thrones in the first place!” Seth exclaims, waving his hands a little enthusiastically, whatever’s in his cup sloshing over the rim.

Dean blinks slowly, then finally says, “It’s a fuckin’ costume, holy shit. I’m sure there are eighty thousand other people dressed as Khal fuckin’ whatever. Unbunch your underwear, and move the fuck on.”

”At least we bothered to dress up,” Roman mumbles, and Dean turns to look at him with narrowed eyes.

”I dunno,” Seth says, drawing Dean’s attention back to him. He’s licking his lips again, his eyes moving up and down Dean’s body like a touch Dean can feel. “He could pass for a grungy hipster, or what’s his face, y’know, the guy from Grease?”

”Danny fuckin’ Zuko?” Dean says through gritted teeth. He kind of wants to punch himself in the face for even knowing who Seth’s talking about. Fuck.

Roman snorts out a laugh, leaning his head against Dean’s shoulder. “I see that, man. Holy shit, I never noticed that.”

Dean shrugs Roman off and away. Fucking asshole best friend. First he keeps Seth from him, then they yuck it up like he’s some fucking greaser singing some dumbass songs about summer loving or whatever the fuck.

”I need another drink,” Dean says, heading back to the keg. Roman and Seth and their fuckin’ Grease bullshit. There isn’t enough beer on the planet for that. He fills his cup and takes a long swallow, filling it once again before moving back to where Roman and Seth are standing. “So, how do you two know each other?”

”Pretty sure I’ve mentioned that we work together, Dean,” Roman says, rolling his eyes.

Well, fucking sue Dean, it’s not his fault he doesn’t pay attention to 95% of the shit Roman says about work. It’s all the same thing, anyway, bitching about how someone in some department couldn’t find his ass with a map if you paid him to.

Dean takes another drink, watching Seth over the rim of his cup. Maybe if Roman would’ve said Seth looks like this, he would’ve bothered to pay attention.

”Dude,” Roman says, shaking his head. He looks like he’s trying really hard not to laugh.

Seth’s looking a little pink, and oh, Dean apparently said that out loud. Whatever. Like Seth hasn’t been checking him out for the last however many minutes.

Dean shrugs. “I said what I said.”

”Alright, Casanova, finish your damn drink. You gotta open the garage tomorrow, remember?”

That’s a fucking buzzkill. He’s seen Roman for all of five minutes, because the fucker was hiding somewhere, he couldn’t drink as much as he wanted, and he can’t stay and talk to Seth. This is bullshit.

”I didn’t, til you reminded me,” Dean says, frowning. He doesn’t want to leave now, wants to stay right where he is, sneaking glances at Seth as long as he can get away with, before pulling him somewhere and kissing the breath from his lungs.

”Which garage?” Seth asks. His eyes seem to be glued to Dean’s hands, and Dean has to fight down a smirk. He knows how good his hands are, knows the things they’re capable of, the way his palms are rough with calluses, and how there’s always engine grease caked beneath his nails, in the dips and whorls of his skin no matter how hard he scrubs them clean.

”Uhhh, Ambrose Auto Repair,” Dean says, fighting back a grin. He’s owned the business for years, has had his name emblazoned on the building for just as long, but it will never not send a jolt of satisfaction through him, how he came from nothing to being here now, owning and running a successful garage with more money than he knows what to do with.

”You any good at what you do?” Seth asks, equal parts genuinely curious and flirtatious.

Dean smirks, raises an eyebrow. “Sure hope so,” he says teasingly, “seein’ as I own the place.”

”Deano’s the best,” Roman cuts in, wrapping an arm around Dean’s shoulder again. “There ain’t any car he can’t fix.”

Dean blames the beer for the way his face flushes.

”I’ll remember that,” says Seth.

Dean finishes the last of his beer, setting the cup down on the counter where there are other cups littering the surface. A glance at his watch tells him it’s nearing one in the morning, and when the fuck did it get so late? Where the fuck was Roman all night?

”You gonna have time to stop by for lunch tomorrow?” Dean asks Roman quietly. It’s routine, Roman stopping by every Monday and Friday for lunch, unless there’s something urgent that keeps him at work.

”You know it.” Roman knocks their foreheads together gently, scrubs his hand through Dean’s hair again, then shoos him out.

”It was nice meetin’ you, Seth,” Dean says, holding out a hand for Seth to shake. Seth does, and Dean’s pleased to find out that Seth’s hand is just as callused–from what, he can’t wait to find out, because Roman works in a fucking architecture firm, and fits perfectly in his own. “You should stop by some time.”

Seth nods slowly, looking a little eager, a little confused. “Yeah, I might,” he says, letting his hand fall from Dean’s. It’s hard to ignore the frissons of heat zooming up Dean’s spine at the touch of Seth’s skin against his own, but he does, putting one foot in front of another, making his way out of the haze-filled house.

He’s grateful he lives close by since he chose not to drive, and the walk home helps dissipate the buzz a little, helps get rid of some of the stagnant smoke smell clinging to his clothes and skin.

He still showers, however, scrubbing himself from head to toe, setting his alarm for a too early 6:00 am, dreaming of pink lips and big brown eyes and a gap-toothed smile.

It’s a little later than Dean had hoped to make it into the garage, but the lights are already on, and Sasha is already in, standing behind the front desk with her back to Dean, on her tip-toes as she switches out the Halloween-themed banner for one with turkeys and leaves.

”You’re here early,” Dean says, laughing softly to himself at the way Sasha jumps, a hand clapped to her chest as she turns around to face him with wide eyes.

”Jesus, Dean, what’s wrong with you?”

Dean shrugs. “What’re you doin’ here so early?”

”Just wanted to get all the decorations swapped over,” Sasha explains, “since Halloween is pretty much over, y’know? Don’t think too many people are gonna be having parties on a Tuesday night, right? And besides, Thanksgiving, Dean, Thanksgiving. That means it’s almost Christmas.”

”Have any packages come in yet?” Dean asks, choosing not to focus on any of the holiday stuff. He enjoys Thanksgiving and Christmas, yeah, but not when they’re being shoved down his throat weeks and months ahead of time.

”They’re on your desk, boss,” Sasha says, “and the invoice forms are on top of them.”

Sure enough, there are a few boxes sitting on top of Dean’s desk, and a stack of papers on top of them.

Time to get down to business, then.

Dean’s elbow deep under the hood of a 2004 Chevy Malibu, trying to find the remaining pieces of a snapped belt. The first few vehicles were all easy enough, quick oil changes and brake pad replacements that took him no time at all to finish, ahead of the heavy workload he, Antonio, and Sami have when they come in later.

The mornings are Dean’s quiet time, his decompression time, where he’s the only one in the shop aside from Sasha. He likes to come in a little earlier than the rest of his employees to get the easier jobs done, to breathe and relax and settle before the hustle and bustle of the day really starts.

”Hey, Boss-man,” Sasha says, startling Dean enough that he jumps, banging his wrist on the engine. “Shit, sorry.”

Dean blows out a breath. “Not your fault. You know how I get,” he says, pulling the rag from his back pocket and half-heartedly wiping his hands. Dean is in his element when he’s buried beneath a hood. There’s nothing and no one else that exists, focused solely on evaluating, diagnosing, and repairing.

”You’ve uh–you’ve got a visitor?” Sasha sounds a little confused, and the tone of her voice makes Dean’s brow furrow. Roman’s early, and he’s never bothered to stop in and tell Sasha he’s here, choosing instead to walk around like he owns the place. Dean’s pretty confused, too.

Dean shoves the rag back into his pocket, follows behind Sasha to the reception area, and almost face-plants on the carpeted floor.

Seth is running his fingers along the edge of the counter. His hair is pulled back into a neat bun at the base of his neck instead of the braid it was pulled into last night, and gone is the costume, replaced by a fitted pair of slacks that hug every curve of Seth’s legs and ass, and a crisp, white button-down that stretches enticingly across his back and shoulders, highlighting the width and breadth of them.

”Seth?” Dean says, after clearing his throat. He feels completely underdressed, in his ripped and stained jeans, his oil-stained t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, but this is who he is, and he’s not going to pretend to be something other than that for anyone.

Seth turns to Dean with a smile on his face. “Wasn’t expectin’ much from a garage, but this place is actually pretty nice,” he says, waving a hand around to encompass the space surrounding him.

Dean isn’t sure whether to take offense, or to take it as the compliment Seth probably meant it as. Considering it’s Dean’s baby, he’s leaning more toward taking offense.

”That’s a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one,” Dean says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Seth grimaces, says, “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” but Dean just shakes his head, waving it off.

”S’cool,” Dean says, moving a little closer. “Pretty much was just junk and clutter everywhere ‘til Sasha started workin’ here. She’s the one who made it look all nice and shit. Pretty sure she’s the boss, even though I own the place.”

”And don’t you forget it,” Sasha chimes in, grinning and sticking her tongue out at Dean. She’s back at the front counter, rummaging through the stack of papers she has sorted, until she finds what she’s looking for. She hands it to Dean, says, “You’ve got that Cruiser coming in for the water pump and the timing belt in a half hour,” then disappears to the lounge, presumably to give Dean and Seth some kind of privacy.

Dean barely suppresses a groan. He loves working with his hands, loves his shop and working on cars, but fuck does he hate water pumps and timing belts. The amount of hours he has to put into that is so many. Maybe he’ll see if Antonio or Sami wants to take it.

”No time to grab a coffee or something?” Seth asks, looking put out. His hands are in the pockets of his slacks, and he looks so out of place in his clean slacks and button-down, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, but fuck does Dean want to make a mess of him in the best of ways.

”That’s the nice thing about being your own boss,” Dean says with a grin, “you can do whatever you want.”

Seth grins, and Dean’s heart beats a little faster at the tiny little gap between his teeth.

”Roman’s not gonna mind?” Seth asks, making Dean’s brow furrow in confusion.

”Why would Roman mind?” If Seth means what Dean thinks he means, he’s going to laugh, really hard, then question what kind of person Seth actually is.

”You’re not–you two aren’t…?” Seth trails off, his face flushed.

Dean snorts, laughs. “Jesus, no. He’s my brother,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m sure he’ll end up sayin’ somethin’, ‘cause that’s just how Rome is, but seriously, man, even you thinkin’ he and I were together wasn’t enough to stop you from comin’ here?”

Seth looks taken aback at being called out, and he opens and closes his mouth half a dozen times before he says, “I wasn’t positive if you were, and on the off-chance that you weren’t, I figured why not?”

”But what if we were, though?” Dean probes. Roman’s married, which makes Dean laugh, because has Seth never seen the pictures Roman has on his desk of his wife and daughter?

”I would’ve turned back around and left,” says Seth with a shrug. “I’m not about that breakin’ people up shit.”

Dean nods. He doesn’t know how much of that he believes, since he doesn’t really know Seth at all, but he’s willing to give Seth the benefit of the doubt, for now.

”You said somethin’ about coffee?” Dean lets the subject go. Seth answered his questions, and without knowing Seth better, there’s not much more Dean can do. He could turn Seth down, send him on his way, but he really wants to see where this goes, if it goes anywhere.

”There’s a coffee shop not too far from here,” Seth suggests, a thumb hooked back over his shoulder.

”Gimme a sec,” Dean says, quickly disappearing back onto the shop floor. He scrubs his hands clean as best as he can, though he knows there will still be grease caked beneath his nails, in the lines of his knuckles.

Seth is still patiently waiting when Dean gets back out, and he smiles softly at Dean in a way that warms Dean down to his toes. “Ready?” he asks.

Dean nods and follows Seth out the door.

One Year Later

”Dean, hurry up,” Seth calls out, making Dean sigh. He’s been standing in front of the mirror for the last twenty minutes, making faces at himself, because he can’t bring himself to leave the solitude of the bathroom.

”Gimme a minute,” Dean shouts back, gripping the edge of the counter. This was such a stupid fucking idea. Why did he let Seth talk him into this, into wearing this ridiculous costume, into going to his work’s Halloween party, again?

Oh. Yeah. Because Seth was mouthing down the line of his hip, words smeared into the stretch of skin there, and all Dean could do was agree to everything Seth was saying.

Now he’s stuck here, looking like a complete tool, barely resisting the urge to strip off his costume and put his jeans and t-shirt back on.

Dean loves Batman, he does. But he loves Batman as Batman, as Michael Keaton, George Clooney, Cristian Bale, even Ben fucking Affleck, playing Batman, not him dressed as Batman, looking like a fucking total moron.

Seth? Seth looks like sex on legs, in his leather, skin-tight Catwoman suit, every inch of fabric molded to the curves and dips of muscle, the mask on his face making his big, brown eyes seem that much more mesmerizing.

Dean really just wants to take him to bed.

But no, he’s stuck in this fucking costume, looking like a complete idiot because he will never be able to fill out a Batman costume the way it’s meant to be, while Seth gets to look like the hottest thing to ever walk the planet, all because he can’t say no to Seth and his devious, wicked mouth.

”Dean, c’mon,” says Seth, appearing in the bathroom doorway. His mask is hanging around his neck, and his hair is pulled back into a loose bun. Dean can’t stop himself from doing a slow, thorough once over, because jesus, the sight of Seth in all that form-fitting leather will never not make Dean want to rip it off him.

”You done?” Seth asks, an eyebrow raised, looking like he’s trying to fight back a grin.

Dean shrugs. “Turn around,” he says, sticks his tongue out teasingly.

”Incorrigible,” Seth says fondly with a shake of his head. “You look great, Dean, I swear. Can we go now? We’re going to be late.”

Dean sighs, smooths his hands down the front of his costume. “C’mere,” he says, pulls Seth in with a hand around his wrist, until Seth’s back is plastered to his front, so Dean can look into Seth’s eyes in the mirror.

Dean, Batman, and Seth, his Catwoman. Even with how stupid Dean thinks he looks on his own, with Seth standing beside him, they look fucking amazing.

”Alright,” Dean says, “let’s do this.”

#halloween prompt contest 2017 #dean ambrose #seth rollins #ship | dean ambrose/seth rollins

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preservationandruin · 6 years

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Oathbringer Liveblog: Part Two. Chapters 33-37

Sorry for the delay, gang! Life has been busy and I haven’t had time to keep up my reading and liveblogging at the same pace. But! I should be able to get at least some out now.

Shallan gets a lecture, Dalinar has a conversation, Kaladin chats with his men about their lives and also starts training them; we have a Dalinar flashback, and a Rock POV.

Just at the beginning, we have actually-accurate drawings of Urithiru, ,and the letter that will be this chapter’s epigraphs is addressed to Cephandrius, who--I believe--is Hoid. Whoever’s writing it calls him “Dearest Cephandrius,” which is either someone being sarcastic or someone who likes Hoid much more than most other characters who know him.

Anyway, Shallan is reacting to the fact that Jasnah is alive. She also refers to what she did as “grope an eldritch spren,” which is pretty hilarious.

Jasnah claimed to always look at things from a logical perspective, but she had a flair for the dramatic to rival any storyteller.

That’s because she’s a Kholin and, as we all know, drama runs in their bloodline like blue and purple eyes and Alethi dark hair. And again, every time Shallan looks at Jasnah is a Relatable Bisexual Mood:

Storms. She was perfect. A curvaceous figure, tan Alethi skin, light violet eyes, and not a hint of aberrant color to her jet-black hair. Making Jasnah Kholin as beautiful as she was brilliant was one of the most unfair things the Almighty had ever done.

SAME, Shallan. And of course, Jasnah sees this return as a teaching moment. Jasnah also tells Shallan that fabrials are, essentially, made by imprisoning spren. Also, when Shallan starts sarcastically talking back to her Jasnah smiles. I think she missed her over-inquisitive sarcastic ward. And Jasnah has run into Kaladin, once--kinda sad we missed that encounter. Shallan also is heartened, kind of, by the fact that Jasnah too has no idea what she’s doing.

The letter mentions that the writer, among other things, notices Hoid’s “many intrusions into my land.” That’s interesting--implies whoever wrote this is some sort of ruler over an area. A Shard, or just a king of some sort? Hard to say.

Anyway, over to Dalinar. He’s having his meeting with Queen Fah in the storm. He’s showing her the Knights Radiant saving people--the vision with the family that Dalinar got in the first book. Also, a rare moment of philosophy from the Stormfather as Dalinar asks about the place of endless white stone where they talk:

I IMAGINED IT, the Stormfather said more softly, as if he were admitting something embarrassing. ALL THINGS HAVE A SOUL. A VASE, A WALL, A CHAIR. AND WHEN A VASE IS BROKEN, IT MIGHT DIE IN THE PHYSICAL REALM, BUT FOR A TIME ITS SOUL REMEMBERS WHAT IT WAS. SO ALL THINGS DIE TWICE. ITS FINAL DEATH IS WHEN MEN FORGET IT WAS A VASE, AND THINK ONLY OF THE PIECES. I IMAGINE THE VASE FLOATING AWAY THEN, ITS FORM DISSOLVING INTO NOTHINGNESS.

This has some interesting larger implications, too. Much as the cognitive form of the vase sticks around when its broken...the Stormfather is almost the same thing in regards to Honor, you know? A Cognitive Shadow. Is one of the things keeping the Stormfather “alive” the fact that people think of him as the Almighty?

Anyway, Dalinar has taken the place of one of the radiants, the female one in amber shardplate. He isn’t in Shardplate, though, and is wondering about the differences between Radiant Shardplate and Normal Shardplate. So am I, to be honest. Anyway, he’s trying to fish for information about it, but Stormy dissuades him.

“How,” Dalinar whispered to the Stormfather. “How do we get the armor?” Speak the Words. “Which words?” You will know or you will not. Great.

Anyway, he meets up with Queen Feh, and they start talking. She points out that it sounds like bullshit that the Almighty would pick Dalinar--”a tyrant and a murderer”--to lead the knights Radiant, and it hits Dalinar pretty personally because, well, it’s right.

“Maybe all the good men are dead, so all you have is me!”

Anyway, Feh is pleased that Dalinar is honestly shouting at her, rather than being tactful and diplomatic. Also, she points out that the vision--which the Stormfather has paused--is really creepy. And Dalinar realizes--the way he was acting, the way he was eerily calm over the spanreed--it made him seem like he was in league with the Voidbringers.

Dalinar also points out that he learned one important thing--he learned that if he talks to Feh by being himself, she listens more easily.

Bridge Four, now! Have I mentioned I love Bridge Four. Sigzil was having that nightmare where you’re about to take important tests but you forgot how to read. Lopen is using the fact that Kaladin is back--and, thus, that they’re squires again--to walk upside down on the ceiling. Lopen also uses the nickname “hooch” to refer to Sigzil but refuses to explain what it means.

Sigzil also reveals that he didn’t pass the important tests, got himself into trouble, and Hoid ended up rescuing him. That’s an interesting note. And then somehow he ended up a slave on Sadeas’ least lucky bridge crew.

Sigzil found Kaladin doing morning push-ups on the stone floor. His blue jacket was draped over a chair. “Sir,” Sigzil said. “Hey, Sig,” Kaladin said, grunting as he continued doing push-ups. “Are the men up and mustered”“ “Up, yes,” Sigzil said. “When I left them, they seemed bordering on a food fight, and only half were in uniform.

Have I mentioned I love Bridge Four.

“And then there’s the matter of Drehy...” “What matter?” “Well, he’s been courting a man, you see...” Kaladin threw on his coat, chuckling. “I did know about that one. You only now noticed?” Sigzil nodded. “It’s Dru he’s been seeing, still? From the district quartermaster’s offices?”

Listen, this segment means a lot to me. it’s just...it’s very important to me that one of the guys in Bridge four is seeing another guy, and everyone’s cool with that, and Kaladin is invested enough in his mens’ happiness to know who the guy is and where he works. It might be stupid to be tearing up about this, but if that’s stupid, well, I’m stupid.

I’m just so tired of worlds where people like me just don’t exist that any one where they do is deeply moving.

Also Sigzil drops a cryptic reference to “you know what Teft’s gotten into” which knowing Teft could be, well, literally anything. Anyway, as they keep going Lyn joins them, mentioning that the “unusual request” Kaladin wanted has been filled, and Kal says he’s been noticing that she’s been trying to work with Bridge Four. He asks her to join--she’s hype--and then she realizes that he means as a scribe and just wilts.

LET! LYN! FIGHT!

Sigzil finds himself wanting to punch Kaladin, just a little. And literally repeats Kaladin’s same speech about trying to understand what people actually want out of life back to him and Kal is suitably abashed. And he has gotten his hands on a massive amount of gems, so they can practice being Radiants.

Blackthorn Flashback! 24 years ago. Evi sometimes has Vasheresque idiomatic translation problems: “the life will be as white as a sun at night!”

Anyway, Evi is pregnant with Adolin! She and Dalinar are watching the flamespren--she sees it as playing, Dalinar as sparring, and Evi points out that she knows how much Dalinar lived for fighting, and she doesn’t like it. And Dalinar at the very least knows he doesn’t deserve her--good, at least he’s got that straight. Evi is amazing and Dalinar, at this point? A train wreck. He’s still in love with Navani, and notes that he and Navani and Gavilar stayed up talking together--Navani was so interested in what she was doing, but Gavilar ignored her.

None of these marriages are going great, it seems. And Evi mentions that if you want to change who you are you have to go “petition the One in the Valley.” the Nightwatcher. She seems to refer to her as an aspect of the masculine Almighty, but it suggests that the “Almighty” worshipped in Iri and Rira might be Cultivation. Anyway, Gavilar has shown up.

Apparently, Rathelas, where Dalinar won Oathbringer, is demanding the Blade back, because he “never won it in a fair contest” and the heir returned.

...Dalinar couldn’t bring himself to kill the child, could he. He took the Blade but left the boy alive. The Thrill vanished when confronted with a crying child.

Interesting. I remember how, in Mistborn, being confronted with someone--usually someone young--pleading for their life or, more often, the life of someone else broke Ruin’s influence. Anyway, Evi is so proud that Dalinar spared the baby boy--he gave him to his mother and told her to hide him.

This. This makes me so happy. Dalinar didn’t kill a child. I mean, he was still a butcher and murderer. But there was a line, there. And Dalinar is happy that, just in this moment, Evi sees him as a hero.

Over to Bridge Four, again! And an alarming note in the letter:

You mustn’t worry yourself about Rayse. It is a pity about Aona and Skai, but they were foolish--violating our pact from the very beginning.

a) Aona and Skai literally died and you’re saying it’s just a “pity” that Rayse murdered them? Wow, asshole b) our pact. Implying that this person is a Shard or something on a similar level of power.

Anyway, we’re over to Numuhukumakiaki’aialunamor, better known as Rock. Turns out his Horneater nickname is Lunamor. He is making stew back out on the Shattered Plains, and is surprised to realize that he kind of missed them. Renarin is working the Oathgate nearby. They’re training along with some others, including five female scouts.

Let! Them! Fight!

Anyway, Teft has been gone for a while--he didn’t come back last night. That’s not great. Huio, one of the cousins, is helping Teft cook--he makes a chance to the drinks, Rock is SCANDALIZED, but...it turns out delicious. Bridge Four is pioneering fusion cuisine here. Lopen has accidentally stuck himself to the ground entirely.

“Just part of the plan, gon!” Lopen called back. “If I am to become a delicate cloud upon the sky, I must first convince the ground that I am not abandoning her. Like a worried lover, sure, she must be comforted and reassured that I will return following my dramatic and regal ascent into the sky.” “You’re not a king, Lopen,” Drehy said. “We’ve been over this.”

We’ve been over this. How many times do I have to say I love Bridge Four before the words come anywhere close to conveying my affection for them? It is a mystery.

Kaladin: Rock, do you think you use the term “airsick lowlander” too much Rock: [looks over to where Lopen is STILL stuck with stormlight to the ground, sweet-talking it] Rock: No.

Rock also invites them all to come visit the Horneater peaks. Anyway, Elhokar has shown up. Kaladin has agreed to reclaim Alethkar and the capital with Elhokar, provided he has a few more weeks to train. Also, Rock finds the old bridge itself--the Bridge of Bridge four. Rock also points out that while he was a soldier once, he always--always--loved being a cook.

He closed his eyes, kneading and humming his mother’s song to a beat he could almost, barely, just faintly hear.

Your friendly reminder that Horneaters have Listener blood; seems like some of them, at least, haven’t lost the Rhythms. And when Renarin approaches, Rock yells over to ask him to help with the bread. Interestingly, though, Rock can’t see Glys. Perhaps...he’s just really shy?

“That one, he will never hold spear again. He will not fly, but he is Bridge Four. I am forbidden to fight, but I am Bridge Four. And you, you might have fancy title and different powers.” He leaned forward. “But I know Bridge Four. And you, Renarin Kholin, are Bridge Four.”

And that gets Renarin talking--talking about how everyone always wanted him to be an ardent, because look, he was smart, and look, he was so bright--but he knew that what they were really saying was “wow, you’re not as strong as Adolin” and “wow, it would be great for the line of succession if the sickly one couldn’t inherit.”

“When you say these things, you are almost not bitter!” Lunamor said. “Ha! Much practice must have been required.” “A lifetime.”

HUG RENARIN KHOLIN 2K17

Renarin says he feels like the oddest of them--Rock points to Rlain, Renarin startles and says he’s not sure if Rlain counts (just like Renarin isn’t sure he himself “counts” as Bridge Four) and Rock says, yeah. That’s what everyone tells him. So Renarin goes and sits with Rlain.

Rock notes that one of his ancestors apparently met an Unmade, but doesn’t elaborate. That’s alarming. And we also get to see all the little ways Rock makes Bridge Four keep working--calming people down, listening, getting them to teach him things when they’re not confident.

And then Rock sees a group of “strong gods” like Sylphrena gathered around a tall spren woman with long hair, watching the training squires. It’s the most he’s seen, anywhere. Anyway, Syl comes over to talk to him--she mentions that the woman, the large one, is Phendorana, some sort of leader who called her out for searching out Kaladin.

Apparently, the other honorspren are seeing whether or not anyone in Bridge Four are worthy of being full Radiants. Rock walks back, and sees Hobber--the one whose legs were paralyzed by Szeth--trying desperately to draw out Stormlight from a sphere.

And he can feel his toes again! Everyone tows all of their gemstones over.

And then they find a raided caravan--but one of the Voidbringers who did it was brought down. By an unkalaki arrow.

Lunamor looked to the right, where someone had piled up furniture in a heat, almost like a fortification. A head poked over the top, a stout woman with a round face and a deep red braid. She stood up tall and raised a bow toward Lunamor. Other faces peeked out from behind the furniture. Two youths, a boy and a girl both around sixteen. Younger faces from there. Six in total. Lunamor dashed toward them and found himself blubbering, tears streaming down his cheeks as he crawled up the outside of their improvised fortification. His family, at long last, had arrived at the Shattered Plains.

ROCK’S! FAMILY!

IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM HE DESERVES THIS SO MUCH!!! His wife is Song (Tuaka’li’na’calmi’nor); the twins are Gift and Cord; the next son is also Rock (a different, smaller kind); the third son is Star, the second daughter Kuma’tiki--a kind of shell not present in the lowlands--and the last daughter is also Song-- “Beautiful Song.” She’s only four--she doesn’t remember him.

And Renarin, with healing, managed to save several people’s lives. We also get that something is very wrong with the Peaks. Also, Rock notes that he’s been lying to some of the other men. For example--he’s not really a chef, according to their order of inheritance, it sounds like. It seems like all of his older brothers are dead, which would make him a leader.

And Bridge Four does one last, final run with their bridge. They won’t need it, anymore--they’ll be flying.

#oathbringer spoilers #stormlight archive liveblog #FUCK YEAH BRIDGE FOUR #dalinar voice: unite them #let lyn fight

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