#was always training myself to be quiet and still and have subtle movements and stuff?

[the-trans-dragon]

Ghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if my job decides to do a secret Special Item Release, they should at LEAST tell the staff x.x I would have brought more food and drinks, and gotten better rest last night, if I’d known

Also they should give us holiday pay for that nonsense omg.

#we were SO dead this morning and I was structuring my entire day to Catch Up On Extra Stuff #and then GODDAMN. they didn’t even wait for the midday shift to get there to help omg #and I kept getting in trouble because customers wouldn’t come to my register even though I was calling out and waving. so I got on the #microphone and had to say it over the intercom and they still didn’t really listen #I don’t know why. like surely people aren’t that homophobic right lol. idk I’ve always been hard to see? if that makes sense? #like. if I had a dollar for every time someone got fairly close to me and then SCREAMED because they suddenly realized I was there. I’d have #more than normal dollars. maybe it’s because I’m short or quiet or because I raised myself to be paranoid everyone was going to kill me so i #was always training myself to be quiet and still and have subtle movements and stuff? #idk. the superpower vanishes instantly if I am on break and trying to get to the back room hahaha. then EVERYONE HAS WUESTIONS. which I get #in trouble for because I ‘dawdle’ (helping customers) #okay….I’m procrastinating something so… perhaps I should do the thing I do not want to do #IF I am FAST! I can play slug cat game!!! #sorenhoots

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 2, Chapter 2

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

PART 2

Chapter 2

“Do you want to stick with leather or try something different?”

Matt looked up from the pile of documents he was reading through. He and Calina had spent the morning cleaning up the mess they'd made of his apartment. Then they'd eaten lunch, ordering subs from the sandwich place on the corner. Now he was getting some work done at the dining table. He'd felt awkward about leaving her to her own devices when she was a guest in his home, but she'd insisted he go about his normal routine.

“If I wasn't here, would you be working?” she’d asked.

He'd relented with a sigh. “Today? Yeah I would be. I need to prepare for a big meeting next week.”

“Then work. I can amuse myself.”

She’d made herself at home in one of the armchairs, her injured leg outstretched and propped up on the coffee table with an icepack on her knee. She’d opened up her laptop and the only sound in the apartment for the next couple of hours was the gentle tapping of her fingers on the keyboard and the soft scratch of the touchpad. He'd thought it would feel too intrusive, having someone in his home. He was used to this being his quiet, safe refuge. A place where he could shut out some of the stimulation of the world, and just be himself.

But Calina’s presence wasn’t intrusive. ‘Serene’ was the description he once used when he spotted her on the rooftop from afar. And it still fit. There was something so tranquil about her. Most people fidgeted at rest. They played with their jewellery or picked at their nails, or twirled their hair. Tiny, subtle movements that, to Matt, added up to a dull cacophony of distracting sound and movement.

Calina did none of that - likely because of the brutal training she went through. Which made him feel guilty for appreciating the quiet, soothing aura she projected.

He'd just turned the page of his latest document when she asked her strange question. “Do you want to stick with leather or try something different?”

“What?” he replied, baffled.

“For your new couch. Do you prefer leather? Or do you want to opt for something different. Suede might feel nice.”

Suede did feel nice. And he was touched that she was once again thinking in terms of his preferences - like the feel of the fabric over its colour or pattern - but was she...buying him a couch? “Calina you don’t have to do that. I can sort something out later."

"No, let me do this,” she protested. “Please. I feel awful about wrecking your couch. Let me pay for a new one."

"Calina-"

"Matt," she replied, in the same tone. He was really starting to like the sound of his name on her lips. "I won't take no for an answer. Now where are we on the suede? I know you have a fondness for silk, but that might be a bit much on furniture."

He smiled, and gave in. “Suede sounds good.”

She returned his smile. “Good. Any other preferences, or are you happy to let me choose? I promise to stay clear of the hot pinks and florals.”

“You can choose.”

Her smile widened. “That is the correct answer - I am a genius at online shopping.”

He leaned back in his chair, grateful for the chance to take a break from the boring depositions he was reading through. And grateful that he was now free to indulge his curiosity when it came to Calina - even about mundane topics like shopping.

"You don't like going shopping in person?"

“Sometimes. But the assistants are always too pushy. I like to take my time. And I like-” She stopped talking and bit her lip, as if embarrassed.

“What? What do you like?”

“It sounds silly. But I like…getting deliveries. I like getting mail.”

I never got any before.

He heard the unspoken words as clearly as if she’d said them. And it was yet another comment that proved just how new to this world she was. How naive and inexperienced she was, despite her obvious intelligence and her skills as a fighter.

“It doesn’t sound silly,” he replied softly.

She smiled again, and went back to her shopping.

———

The rest of the afternoon passed in comfortable silence.

He continued trawling through the depositions for his meeting next week, and Calina switched from online shopping to reading a book. The soundtrack in the apartment transitioned from the soft tapping of the keyboard to the gentle rustle of paper as she turned the pages.

It was equally as soothing.

When he’d finally had enough of work, he slumped down and stretched out his legs. He rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

The bridge of his nose throbbed. In fact, most of his body ached. But he was reluctant to show it, because Calina kept apologising every time he let on that he was in pain.

He knew the guilt she was feeling - he felt the same way about the marks and wounds marring her body. Her thighs and her back were mottled with bruises from his fists and from when he'd thrown her to the ground. Her wrists were abraded from the restraints, and he could hear the edges of the damaged tissue rub against the sleeve of her cardigan. He could feel the heat rising from her injured joints, and he knew her head pained her from the lingering concussion.

He got up and shuffled into the kitchen, retrieving the bottle of painkillers from under the sink. He shook out a couple of pills and offered them to Calina. She looked up from her book, surprised. “What are these for?”

“Your head hurts.”

She accepted the medication with a wry smile. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “I just do.”

She swallowed the tablets and he did the same. Then he collapsed into the armchair next to hers, sighing in relief at the more comfortable seat.

She tossed her book onto the coffee table and twisted in her chair to face him. “Really, Matt. How do you know?”

He gestured to his sightless eyes. “You mean how does this works?”

“Yeah. I’ve been curious for ages.”

He sat up straighter. “Ages? Just how long have you’ve known I was Daredevil?”

“Um, I found out a couple of weeks before you got sick.”

All the time they spent together when she was taking care of him...she knew. All the time they spent practicing his opening statement for Margaret’s trial…she knew.

All that time.

And he never suspected a thing.

She really was an exceptional liar.

“How did you find out?” he asked.

“Are we trading questions again?” she said, referring back to their first proper conversation - the one on the rooftop, all those months ago.

Matt nodded. He didn’t mind explaining his abilities if it meant he got to find out more about her. His curiosity was far from sated when it came to Calina. “You first,” he said. “How did you find out?”

“Well, technically, I didn’t find out. I suspected there was something different about you from the beginning. But Anya - one of the Widows from last night - was the one who put all the pieces together.”

Matt frowned. To his knowledge, no one had ever suspected him before. Was he getting sloppy after all these years?  “What do you mean you suspected?” he asked.

“Objection, Mr Attorney, isn’t it my turn?” Calina teased.

“Overruled. Your answer was incomplete, so I’m asking a follow-up question for clarification purposes.”

She laughed. “I guess that serves me right for arguing semantics with a lawyer.” She went on to explain the clues she’d picked up on during their earlier encounters, the mannerisms and quirks that gave him away.

She seemed to sense his unease, so she tried to reassure him. “It was all really subtle stuff - I’ve just been trained to be hyper-observant. Your secret is still safe from the wider world. And my sisters would never give you away.”

“How can you be sure of that?” he asked. He knew how much danger it posed to the people he cared about if his secret was exposed. It was a constant fear that he lived with.

“We’ve existed in the shadows all our lives. At first, it was to protect Dreykov and his organisation. But now we live in secrecy to protect ourselves and each other. We would never betray someone living that same kind of life.”

He nodded. And tried to believe her. But it felt so precarious, having his identity known by so many people. People he had never met. After everything he’d been through, trusting strangers and taking things on faith was a difficult task.

“So is it my turn now?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything! How you can do what you do, and how you know the things you know. Just...everything.”

He smiled and explained about his heightened senses. How the scents and sounds and vibrations around him - even the tiniest changes in air density and temperature - coalesced to form an impressionistic painting of his surroundings. “It helps me to ‘see’ the world. But its not sight as you experience it. It’s different. And so much more.”

“So what do you ‘see’ when you look at me?” she asked softly.

“Well firstly, I don’t need to look,” he replied with a wry grin. He closed his eyes to demonstrate, while he stretched his senses to the woman next to him. “You’re facing me, with your cheek resting against the back of the chair, and you have your arms wrapped around your bent knees - I can tell by the negative space around you. I know you’re more injured than you’re letting on. I can smell the blood from all your bruises - the copper is a sharp tang on the air. And I knew you had a headache from the way you were wrinkling your forehead as you read your book - I could hear the muscles contracting. And you were turning the pages slower and slower because your eyes were straining.”

She was quiet for a few moments, and he started to grow worried. It was always a risk sharing just how far-reaching and intrusive his abilities were. He remembered how disturbed Foggy was the first time, and he didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

But it was as if there was an unspoken pact between him and Calina, that these traded questions were answered as truthfully as possible.

So he’d been honest. And in return, she proved that he really should stop underestimating her.

“Wow,” she whispered. “That’s incredible.”

He opened his eyes and tipped his head towards her. “You’re not freaked out?”

“Why? Because you can basically see me on a molecular level?”

“It’s not quite that precise, but yeah. I can’t tell what colour your eyes are, but I know that your sugar levels have dropped since lunch and that your heart is beating 64 times per minute.”

“You don’t know what colour my eyes are?”

“No.”

“So you don’t actually know what I look like?”

He couldn’t decipher the tone of her voice. She wasn’t annoyed. Curious, yes. But there was also…excitement?

Why would that knowledge excite her?

“Not on a surface level, no.”

“Do you want to know?”

He felt like he was walking into a trap. Her tone had shifted again, the question sounding more like a challenge than a harmless offer. “Only if you want me to,” he replied slowly.

She was quiet for a few seconds. “The way I look…” she started. Then paused again.

“What? You can tell me, Calina. You can tell me anything.”

She swallowed audibly. “People have called me beautiful all my life. And I know that most women would love that, but its been nothing but a curse for me. Its the reason I was chosen for the types of missions I used to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“My specialty as a Widow was undercover work. I’m a good mimic, and I’m really good at languages. And I can disappear inside a persona and become someone else. So I was used a lot for deep infiltration work. But I was also used a lot for my looks. They would send me out to get close to people. To flirt with them and seduce them and steal all their secrets. Most of the other Widows were able to work from afar - assassinations are usually safer from a distance. But I would have to get close to the people I was targeting.”

Matt’s fist clenched in anger at the people who’d used Calina in that way. With every revelation of her life as a Widow, he hated Dreykov and his organisation more and more.

“I guess it’s your turn to freak out,” she whispered, misinterpreting his lack of response.

“I’m not freaked out,” he said quickly. “I’m angry. I’m angry at people who forced you to do that. But not at you. You had no control, Calina.”

“I know that on an intellectual level,” she said. “But its hard not to feel responsible when I’m plagued by the memories of those missions. I can see the faces of all the people I used and betrayed.”

He didn't know what to say to that. 'I'm sorry' seemed so inadequate. He wished there was some tangible way he could help her - beat up a villain maybe, or defend a case in court. He knew how to deal with problems as Daredevil - and as a lawyer - but as just plain Matt Murdock, he felt like he was floundering.

He had the biggest guilt complex in the world. How was he supposed to help someone get over theirs?

"Anyway," she continued. "That was a long way of saying that I like that you see the real me. Beneath the surface.”

"I'm glad."

"So do you have any other powers you want to show off?" she asked, trying to inject some lightness in her voice. "Telepathy, maybe? Levitation?"

He laughed. "No, and no. Sorry."

"What about super-healing?" She rubbed her sore elbow through the sling. "That would come in handy right about now."

He hesitated. His meditation technique couldn't exactly be called a superpower - it didn't mend broken bones or cure cancer - but he found that it did speed up his recovery time. He'd been planning to try it after dinner.

“There is something we could do…”

———

The apartment was bathed in a neon yellow glow. Darkness had fallen while they were eating dinner but Calina hadn’t bothered turning on the lights. She liked the way the shifting colours of the billboard outside lit up the living room. Together with the gentle patter of rain on the windows, it created a tranquil atmosphere.

Perfect for meditation.

Too bad she couldn’t shut off her brain long enough to enjoy it.

“You’re thinking too much.” Obviously, Matt could tell that she wasn’t in the right headspace. It was just hard to concentrate on not concentrating when she was hyperaware of every inch of him that was touching her.

They were sitting on the floor, his legs crossed in a classic yoga pose, with wrists resting on his knees; she was in a similar pose, but with her injured leg outstretched.

And they were back-to-back.

“This will make it easier to regulate your breathing,” he’d explained as they took up the position. “You’ll be able to feel me breathe, and you can match your breathing to mine.”

It sounded reasonable in theory. But in practice, all she could feel was the heat radiating from his skin, and the hard mass of his muscles and the breadth of his shoulders as they rested against her own.

It was too much sensation.

As she’d discovered while watching him as Daredevil, his physicality and strength was a major turn-on. Feeling the evidence of all that strength pressed against her was short-circuiting her brain.

“Calina, relax,” he said, oblivious.

“I’m, uh, just trying to work out the scientific basis underpinning this technique,” she lied, making up an excuse for her weird behaviour.

“Well, stop,” he said with a soft laugh. “This isn’t about the brain, or about science. This is about the body. Connecting with it. Feeling every part of it, from your toes to the tips of your fingers. Listen to what its telling you.”

“Okay, okay.” She wriggled in place and tipped her head from side to side, feeling the joints of her spine pop. Then she closed her eyes and made a conscious effort to sink into stillness.

She felt Matt breathe, and matched the movement.

Then again.

And again, until they were completely in sync, their bodies moving as one.

She tuned out all the distracting sensations. Felt the tension in her muscles dissipate. The pulse of her heart echoed in her ears, and she could sense it settle into a slow steady pace. Her breaths - their breaths - slowed too, until she felt suspended in a kind of tranquil lethargy.

She drifted in that state for what seemed like hours.

So calm.

So at peace.

She’d never felt like this before.

Ever.

A tear slipped from her eye and left a hot trail on her cheek as it fell to the floor.

She felt one of Matt’s hands reach back and touch her thigh. “Hey,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

She slowly rose up to consciousness. She wiped at the tear and stared at the moisture on her fingertips. “Yeah,” she whispered. Her voice sounded detached from her, as if it was coming from another person. “In fact, I feel…wonderful.”

“Endorphin rush,” Matt explained, unfurling from his pose and standing up. “It can happen with deep meditation. It stimulates the release of serotonin, dopamine - all the good stuff.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to get all scientific about this?” She was starting to come back to reality. Her voice sounded more like her own. She could hear the rain again. And she noticed that the shadows in the apartment were even darker than before, the neon light brighter in contrast.

Matt laughed and offered her his hand. He pulled her to her feet, and steadied her by the shoulders as she swayed slightly. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just a head rush. How long were we sat there?”

Matt cocked his head and listened to the darkness for a few seconds. “It’s after 9 now.”

“How can you tell?”

“Mr. Campbell on the third floor always watches M.A.S.H. re-runs at this time of night.”

“Wow. Who needs a watch when they have you around?”

He shrugged. “I have my uses.”

She chuckled and stretched the kinks out of her shoulders. It was probably her imagination, but her elbow felt less stiff. And her knee ached a bit less.

She clicked on the light in the kitchen, intending to grab a glass of water. The light revealed Matt still standing in the middle of the room. He was staring at the cupboard by the staircase, with a strange expression on his face. He looked almost…conflicted.

And it wasn’t the first time he’d glanced in that direction tonight. She’d caught him looking while she'd unpacked their takeaway earlier. And again during the meal.

What was in there?

She got her chance to find out ten minutes later when Matt’s phone rang. The mechanical voice on his cell droned out the name ‘Foggy, Foggy, Foggy’ and Matt excused himself to answer the call in his bedroom.

Calina scurried over to the cupboard and opened the doors. It was almost empty apart from a battered old chest on the floor. She crouched down and lifted the lid, finding a pile of dark red fabric…

And a mask with devil horns.

“Oh,” she whispered.

It was his suit.

She cradled the mask in her hands, smoothing her fingers over the nicks and scrapes that scarred the surface. Each one was a near-miss. An encounter that Matt only survived thanks to a few millimetres of reinforced carbon fibre.

Her heart thudded in fear at what the mask represented:

Danger.

Every time he put this on, he was putting himself in danger. And her worry over his safety hadn’t diminished, despite getting up close and personal with his impressive fighting skills.

But this suit defined him as much as his white stick and red tinted glasses. He was Daredevil. She’d known that the moment she first saw him leap across the rooftops looking for someone to save. Being in his life meant accepting the part of him that took risks and ran towards danger.

And she desperately wanted to be part of his life.

Which meant she’d just have to bury all her fears and worries, and trust in his abilities.

She lifted out the billy club buried beneath the rest of the suit and hefted the weapon in her hand. Its light weight was surprising - considering how brutal it was in action - and she liked the functionality of it. The batons she used as a Widow had a handy electric current running through them, but the cable linking the two ends of Matt’s club was a better feature. She pulled it apart to examine it further-

Then almost dropped the whole thing when Matt spoke from close behind her. “It was a gift from a friend.”

He didn’t sound angry, but she still felt embarrassed at being caught snooping. She stood up and faced him with a small, sheepish smile, the club still in her hands. “He must have been a good friend - its a nice weapon.” She twirled it around and flicked it into the air, intending to catch it - but Matt’s hand shot out and snatched it, the movement so fast it was a blur.

He ran his hand over the glossy red surface. “Yeah, he was.” His voice sounded sad. And tinged with guilt.

There was a story there.

But it didn’t feel like the right moment to pry. So she changed the subject, and instead voiced the reason behind Matt’s conflicted emotions. “You need to go out tonight, don’t you?”

———

Need. Not want.

How did she know him so well?

Because it was a need. Almost a compulsion. An itch under his skin, that had been nagging at him for the past couple of hours. One that he’d tried to suppress. After all, he’d made a promise to protect Calina and it felt disloyal to leave her on only the second night. But his attention had kept drifting to that chest in the closet. And like an alcoholic with a glass of bourbon in front of him, he’d felt a mixture of desire and shame.

“It’s okay, Matt,” Calina said, reacting to his silence - and whatever she read on his face. “I understand.”

He could tell that she really did. She understood him so well, that he had to keep reminding himself they’d only met a few months ago.

She just…got him.

“But I don’t want to leave you here by yourself,” he said, the objection sounding feeble.

“I’ll be fine. Nobody knows I’m here. Go do what you have to do.” She took a step closer and touched the bandage over his knife wound. The one close to his heart. “Just…be careful, okay?”

He nodded, then grabbed his suit and went to get changed.

Less than twenty minutes later he was running across the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen, the cool night air a refreshing balm after more than 24 hours cooped up inside. Even the pungent smells from the dumpster in the alley below didn’t detract from his sense of freedom.

Not that being with Calina today had been a chore or a punishment. It was just…this is where he belonged. High above the city, watching over it. This was his purpose…and sometimes his cross to bear.

For better or worse, he was Daredevil. To his bones.

He ran faster, stretching out his aching muscles, ignoring the twinges of pain from his various wounds. And trying to ignore his guilt and worry at leaving Calina. But those emotions stayed with him as he stopped a would-be arsonist on 9th avenue; as he saved a young woman from a mugging, and as he beat up the gang of thugs terrorising a couple of kids in Hell's Kitchen Park.  

And they only went away when he returned to his apartment after midnight and could finally hear the steady, relaxed beat of Calina’s heart. He removed his mask and stood at the top of the stairs, listening to the comforting sound for a few moments. It allowed the knot of fear in his gut to finally unravel.

She was safe.

He crept down the stairs and across the living room floor, not wanting to disturb her in case she was asleep. But she must have been awake the whole time - the moment he eased open the bedroom door, he heard the tell-tale snick of a gun being cocked.

“It’s me,” he said quickly, raising his hands.

She exhaled noisily and relaxed back against the headboard. “I thought so, but better safe than sorry.”

“If I’d known you were armed, I would have felt better about leaving you here.”

He heard the clatter as she placed the weapon on the bedside table. “I didn’t know either. While you were out, I went through the bags the other Widows packed for me and found the gun in there, along with several magazines and a couple of tactical knives. I guess that’s how they show they care - with deadly weapons and ammunition.”

He laughed softly. “At least they didn’t leave behind a pipe bomb or an Uzi.”

“I guess they don’t care about me that much.”

He laughed again. And it struck him how surreal this was. He was standing in his Daredevil suit, having just spent the last few hours beating up criminals, and he was…laughing. It was such a contrast to the way he usually ended his nights - alone, in pain, and struggling to fall asleep.

Speaking of which…

“I just came in to get some blankets then I’ll leave you in peace.”

He moved towards the closet, but paused at her next sentence, “You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“Just sleep here again. The new couch won’t be delivered for a few weeks - you can’t sleep in an armchair all that time. We managed last night, so it’ll be fine.” And just like last night, she rolled over and faced away from him, leaving the choice up to him.

The choice between the sensible option - the one where he grabbed the blankets, went out into the living room and put some space between the two of them - and the dangerous option. Where he crawled in beside her, into the bed permeated with her scent, and went to sleep inches from temptation.

He hesitated, torn between his head and his heart.

Between logic and weakness.

Then he made his choice.

————–

Chapter 3 

Taglist: @hollandorks, @yanna-banana, @stilldreaming666, @tearosearts-blog @chezagnes, @freckledbabyyy, @acharliecoxedfan​, 

If you’d like to be added, let me know!

#Daredevil #daredevil fic #marvel's daredevil #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x original female character #tabula rasa #Matt Murdock #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock fic

[actualbird]

Aaaaa I love your headcanons so much! Weird kid rep from the nxx boys!! I don't know how you come up with all these specific scenarios and make them work but I fear you for it.

Luke having increasingly wild stories surrounding him is great but what if one of them just so happens to come true after he joins nsb.

Random classmate: Haha remember when we thought you'd threatened to beat up a guy who threatened mc and leave him to die those were the good days.

Luke, laughing very nervously: Yeah haha I don't know how you came up with them (Don't talk about Nosta don't talk about Nosta don't talk about-)

So I don't know how it is in other countries or schools but in my school when someone was getting bullied they'd use one of those moral education periods to lecture the entire class. Artem's classes probably all had the bullying talks and it was almost entirely undeserved because there wasn't a bullying problem at all chcgiif his poor classmates those talks were painful to hear when there was a problem, imagine how much worse it would be when it isn't. I do like to think maybe the talk spurs the cliques to be more vigilant against that kind of stuff because bullying in cliques can be so subtle and hard to see when you see the bully as a friend. The talk did help cut down on bullying, even if the one it was supposed to help had never been bullied at all dgdjgchk.

GIANN AND HIS COOL ADULT VIBES XGKDTIDIG some of the kids stop picking on Marius because they don't want his Cool Adult brother to not like them :( Marius threatens to tell Giann on them and it has the same effect as threatening to tell the class's favourite teacher. Disappointment from a respected adult hurts.

Vyn's pickle jar dgkxjgdig tiny Vyn Richter violently shaking voodoo dolls of his classmates around yknow what whatever relieves stress. What if he stops doing it as often as an adult but the urge still comes up. Nxx pokes fun at his sleeping habits during sotn and Vyn takes a deep breath and pulls out a pickle jar.

🌌

irt each nxx boy is Not Like The Other Kids in elementary-middle school for diff reasons

gmorning, milkyway!! and kJBKJSFKGJSK how i do it is that i have a brain that never shuts off except when i actually need to write, it's a blessing and a curse

on luke

GOD, UR RIGHT, the wild childhood rumors about luke eventually do come true one way or another. theres lost gold and in his RRG card he DEADASS BEAT UP TWO PEOPLE WHO MADE MC CRY, those dudes were LIMPING.

random classmate, pointing at scraggly long scar on his arm: woah, whered you get that? did you actually fight bears on the weekends? haha

luke, who got that scar during wilderness training where he was dropped into a remote forest with close to no equipment and told to hold out for a week and he did have to fight off a bear that found his shelter and THATS LEGIT WHERE HE GOT HIS SCAR: uh. i had a. really bad blender accident

-

on artem

WE HAD STUFF LIKE THAT AT OUR SCHOOL!!! IT IS EXCRUCIATING!!! i had an experience where we had a bullying talk that had a section that was "How to tell if your classmate is being bullied and not talking about it" and then the speaker basically described everything about how i presented myself. always in a jacket/hoodie, quiet, keeps to themself, mostly seen alone, startled at sudden movements. several classmates immediately thought i was being bullied and i kept saying "IM JUST A NERVOUS AND INTROVERTED PERSON" but they didnt listen and one girl felt so bad she gave me MONEY. i dont frigging know why, she had good intentions, im sure, but what those intentions were are lost to me. usually i'd never say no to free cash but this was so unwarranted that i kept returning it but she kept giving it back so i had to wait til she left and then i slipped the money back into her bag

anyway everything in the above bulletpoint happened to artem. it was....it sure was Something

-

on marius

SCREAMMMM!!! i think marius is 50% glad giann is so cool bc yep, all he has to do is threaten to put in a bad word to giann and everybody behaves and stops picking on marius

but marius is also 50% annoyed that giann is so cool because stuff like this happens

classmate: uhhhh, hey, marius! so um.

marius: yeah?

classmate: ur older brother, giann...

marius: uh huh?

classmate: .......is he single?

marius: KJSBFGJ?? HES FUCKING 24 YEARS OLD AND YOU ARE A TEENAGER, HOLY SHIT???

classmate: SHUT UP, ANSWER THE QUESTION

marius: HES NOT SINGLE, U WEIRDO!!!

marius doesnt tell this to giann because NO!! NO!!!!! but he does tell giann to like......tone down the coolness?? if thats POSSIBLE???

(it's not. giann's on magazines bc hes a handsome rising star. nothing is gonna make him uncool)

-

on vyn

i am Losing My Mind. he has a jar on the desk in his study. it is not filled with anything.

but when the others get on his nerves, he grabs it and shakes it vigorously anyway

even if theres no nxx boy voodoo dolls in there, the muscle memory of jostling jars is enough to calm vyn down

#tears of themis #milkyway!anon #asks #brain never lets me rest (derogatory AND complimentary)

[mrsalwayswrite]

Letters From War (Ron Speirs x reader)

Here is Part 3 of my Eye Candy series! Yes, Eye Candy was supposed to be a one-shot but I’m having too much fun with their dynamics. 

And because sometimes you just need some soft!Speirs in your life. 

Warnings: Speirs being a secret softy and some jealousy, a couple swear words

Words: 3500

Eye Candy series masterlist

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m and @softspeirs​ (because I mentioned this earlier to you)

Sunlight filtered through the lacy curtains, casting the hotel room in a soft glow. A subtle ticking of the clock was the loudest sound in the room. Laying there in the silky sheets felt divine. No one was screaming orders outside of the barracks as they ran their platoon. One of my fellow nurses was not shuffling around inside trying to be quiet but failing as they slammed their stuff on a cot or on the hard floor. No, it was blissfully quiet. Something I had not realized how much I missed until I started my training at Camp Toccoa and was constantly surrounded by others. 

 I rolled over onto my side, eyes bleary from having just woken up. Peeking at the clock on the far wall, I could see the little hand pointing at the eleven. Not what I was hoping to see. My weekend pass meant I did not have to be back to base until this evening but if I did not get up now, I might go AWOL just to lounge around in these sheets with the sunlight warming me. 

 I groaned quietly as I sat up, the soft sheets sliding down my naked body. There was a freeing feeling with sleeping naked. Not that I did it often. Or ever. But the few times I had...I could see the appeal of it being a regular occurrence. Especially with these sheets. Were they made from cherub’s wings? Nothing could be as soft and silky as these sheets. I promised myself after the war, if I made it, I would buy myself a set. Something to look forward to.  

 As quietly as I could, I slid my legs over the side of the bed, ready to stand up when a deep, gravelly voice stilled my movements. 

 "Where you think you're goin'?" 

 I smiled at how perturbed he sounded. Glancing over my shoulder, he still lay on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow, face buried in it. It was amazing he did not accidentally suffocate himself. "Ron, it's eleven already."

 He grumbled, words muffled by the pillow. "So?"

 "We need to get up soon."

 "You said that two hours ago when we woke up."

 "And yet, we're still in bed."

 "Mmm…" He tipped his head to the side so one of his half-lidded eyes could glare at me. "I don't see the problem."

 "Well some of us can't be lazy like...Ahhh!!" I squealed when an arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back, moving far too fast for someone who just supposedly woke up. Abruptly, I found myself with my head back on the pillow and a broody Lieutenant hovering over me. His bare chest was only inches above mine; and although I could not see it, I could feel that he had not put his Army issued skivvy back on. Just that realization alone bloomed a warmth in my belly. 

 "You were saying?" He said with a smug look. 

 "We need to get up."

 "Mmm…" He slowly inched his head down, meeting my eyes until his lips trailed down my neck, leaving butterfly kisses. 

 Without a conscious thought, I tilted my neck to the side, giving him better access. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, loving being under his touch. A small part of my brain berated me for not getting up while I still could. There were things I had planned on doing with my day. But an open mouth kiss on my collarbone caused a moan to fall from my lips and all thoughts of escaping his hold to fly away. 

 "You were saying?" He repeated. 

 Through the slowly growing, lust-fuel haze in my mind, I tried to remember why it was so important to leave the bed. "Was I?"

 He chuckled, the feeling of it reverberating in my chest. With a quick peck to my lips, he laid his head on my chest, half his body weight on me and an arm wrapped around my waist possessively. I started carding my fingers through his hair, humming softly as we lay there together. The sheets were rumpled around his waist, the only thing keeping me warm was his body. A peacefulness descended. Something very rare in preparation for war. It only encouraged neither one of us to leave the bed, else that peace vanish and reality sink back in.  We laid there silently for some time, the only sounds being our breathing and the ticking of the clock.

 My thoughts swirled in my mind about the coming weeks. So many unknowns lay before us, like a minefield that we had to walk through. We just had to keep moving forward.

 "We leave on the train tomorrow." I stated, staring up at the ceiling. My fingers continued carding through his hair. I would never tell a soul but I knew the feeling immediately relaxed him. Whenever I started doing it, he would practically go limp on me and lay there like a cat sunbathing. 

 "Mmm."

 "Do you know where we are going?"

 "Yes."

 I swatted him lightly on the shoulder. Of course, he knew. He had the uncanny ability to always be where information was being shared, even if it was not directly relevant to him. It would not surprise me if he snuck into the intelligence officers' offices at night and peeked through their papers. Though I would never tell him that. Plausible deniability is a glorious thing. 

 When he refused to answer, I swatted him again. Immediately, he growled and nipped at the valley between my breasts, making me squeak. Before I could incite or escape his further wrath, he settled himself back on top of me. When I made no further move, he roughly grabbed my hand and placed it back on the top of his head. I smirked up at the ceiling, and followed his silent order. Perhaps in a past life he had been a cat. It would explain some of the moodiness. 

 "Tell me." My fingers slipped through his hair, occasionally scraping his scalp, making him hum. "Please."

 "I overheard Nixon talking to Sink." He tilted his head to look at me, those dark, piercing eyes meeting mine. "New York."

 I connected the dots in my head. "Europe?"

 He made no reply as he continued to stare at me, rubbing his thumb along my ribs.

 "Can I write to you?"

 I felt him stiffen slightly. We had never defined what was between us. Obviously there was attraction and passion, the bruises on my hips and the half-moon indents on his back attested to that. Yet there was also a peaceful companionship I think neither of us expected. He would listen to me ramble about things we learned in class and different techniques to use in the field or the silly things my friends and I had done. On the rare occasion he would vent about one of his men and their stupidity. But I knew he was trying not to make attachments. There was a solid steel wall around his heart he had raised as soon as he stepped foot in Camp Toccoa. He knew his superiors would die. His men would die. He could possibly die. It would be easier to not know their hopes and dreams, their stories and fears. There was one thing we both knew but never acknowledged. 

 Somehow, I was the exception to his rule.

 As we laid there, I tried not to let his silence bother me. I knew it was a long shot to even ask him. I would not be entirely surprised if he said no. We were not even sure that our paths would cross again. I was to be stationed as a nurse for the paratroopers but it had not been finalized for which battalion. 

 Finally he spoke, looking just over my head the whole time he had been thinking. "Let me think about it."

 "Um, ok… well if I meet some other fella who sweeps me off my feet and writes…"

 He leaned up and kissed me soundly, interrupting my potential future plan. 

 "You can't just kiss me to keep me from talking. That's rude." I huffed when he finally allowed me to breathe again. 

 "No." He stated flatly.

 "No? You don't want me writing to someone else, no? I've already had a few soldiers ask if they could write to me."

 "No."

 "Ron, that's not how this works. If you don't want me writing to you, that tells me you're done with me. I don't do one-night stands."

 He quirked an eyebrow, stupid smirk on those kissable lips. 

 I blushed, swatting him again. "You know what I mean." This was not our first rendezvous together where we snuck away from others while on a weekend pass. 

 He sighed, dropping his head back on my chest. "And if something happens to me."

 "Then I'll mourn but I'll keep doing my job. Who knows? I might even miss you."

 He chuckled then lay quietly. I thought he had fallen asleep until he spoke up, so softly I almost did not catch it. "No one was supposed to miss me."

 "Mmm," I hummed, tracing the muscles on his back with my finger. In a spur of the moment decision, I decided to be honest, my whisper hanging in the air above us. "Too late...I don't think I can help it now."

 We lay there contently for a time, just basking in our own thoughts, the warmth of the morning sun and each other's body. 

 "Ron, we really need to get up…. stop ignoring me."

 He grumbled then suddenly rolled fully on top of me, pressing open-mouth kisses on my neck and chest. "One more."

 "How do you have the energy for one more? Christ! Is it possible to die from so many orgasms?"

 He froze, slowly his eyes met mine. I knew that look.  

 "No...no, Ron, NO! That wasn't a challenge...please, oh, shit!" 

 As I tried to wiggle away from him, he pinned my hips down with his arm and with that dark, seductive look which sent my heart racing, he lowered his face to where I could feel myself throbbing for him. 

 Needless to say, we did not leave that bed until the afternoon. 

 *****

 The train car rattled along the track, the forests and open fields of the East Coast passed by in a blur. Honestly, at this point I had no idea what state we were even in. Somewhere on our way to New York. Then troopship. Then England. 

 Soon war. 

 It was a weird feeling. We had been training and preparing for it. Gathering all the knowledge we could and practicing saving lives until our backs cramped from being bent over pretend bodies and our fingers almost bled from the constant chafing of bandages, syringes and textbooks against them. Yet now on the cusp of war, I felt wholly unprepared. 

 Pushing the thought away, I rubbed my tired eyes. I picked up my pencil, continuing to try and write a letter to my folks back home before one of the girls found me. I had been sitting in a train car with Lucy, Mary and Rebecca. After a while of listening to them gossip and talk amongst themselves and with the other nurses nearby, I decided to step away. I claimed I needed the quiet to write my letter. Truthfully, I just needed some quiet. I loved those ladies but Christ could they be LOUD. 

 Staring at the paper in my lap, words seemed to fail. How do I tell my family about everything I was preparing for? All my fears? All my hopes? All my worries? Do I lie and pretend everything is alright? 

 "Keep it simple." I muttered. With a sharp inhale, my pencil met the paper. 

 Dear Dad and Mom, 

 I hope everyone is doing well. I miss everyone. Sometimes I find myself thinking about home and wonder how soon it'll be till I see it. And you guys, of course. 

My friends are doing well. Mary has been showing off a picture of her newest nephew to all the nurses. I don’t know how I would have survived all this training without them. They help keep my spirits up during this time. And do not worry, dad, no one has proposed yet. Well, this week at least. There will be no ring on my finger until the war is over. 

Just last week we were learning about different types--

 "This spot taken?" A rough, rasping voice asked, disturbing my concentration. 

 I looked up to see a paratrooper standing at the end of my bench seat. I was surprised but wondered if maybe he just needed a space away from his buddies. Most of the other benches and seats were filled up with paratroopers in this train car, a good amount of them sleeping, writing their own letters or gambling. The few voices eased into the background as I sat there, making me momentarily forget I was not actually alone. 

 "No, it's open." I slid further down, closer to the window. Across from me was a different paratrooper I thought I recognized from Fox Company. He had been in a deep sleep even before I sat across from him, if the small puddle of drool and soft snores said anything. 

 "Thank you, ma'am. It's damn near impossible to find a quiet spot on this train." He dropped down onto the bench, removing his garrison cap. 

 I hummed, returning my eyes to the letter. Maybe I should not mention the proposals, even if they were all in jest. Though thinking about them brought up images of a pair of intense, dark eyes and strong hands that had come to know my body almost as well as I did. A blush warmed my cheeks at the thought. 

 It had been several weeks since we first began seeing each other. In public, we continued in our separate roles. Ron was not one for public affection, even if he always glared a hole in the head of any man he caught talking with me. I had heard through the rumor mill that word spread- I was Speirs' girl, even if no one ever saw us interact in that way. If Speirs purposefully started the rumor or my friends did after seeing the hickeys he left on my neck the first time... either way, the flirting and catcalls involving me dropped to a minimum. 

 In private, when we could sneak away or secretly meet up...he had no problem showering physical affection on me until I was seeing stars and melted into a puddle in his arms. 

 I wondered where he was on the train. Before I got on, I caught a glimpse of him directing some of his men on the platform. There were so many unknowns for us. My own feelings for him had grown like weeds since he kissed me. Part of me knew it was trouble. We were heading into war where nothing was certain. Yet the other part of me craved him. He was like no man I had ever known before. With one glimpse of him, my heart practically beat out of my chest. In his arms was quickly becoming my favorite place to be. I loved how there was never a need to fill the silence while with him. 

 Was this love?

 I shot that thought down before it could plant anywhere. Last time I talked to Ron, he never confirmed if I could even write to him. I knew being with me was not easy for him. Although he never explicitly said it, I wondered if he thought he was going to die during the war. 

 That rasping voice interrupted me once again. "I'm John Billings, Private first class, Baker Company."

 "Nurse Y/L/N." I nodded, glancing at him. Short, cropped blond hair, vibrant blue eyes, dimple on one cheek and broad shoulders. If he was inclined, he looked like he could bench-press me. He was attractive...but I was not interested. 

 "Ah, come on, you not gonna tell me your first name?"

 I shrugged, still keeping my gaze on my letter, hoping he would take the hint. 

 Apparently not. 

 "Any guesses on where we're heading? One of my buddies thinks Africa. I think we're headed to Italy or something like that. Either way, Nazis are gonna regret starting this thing when we come in and fucking finish it." He laughed. When I did not respond, he slid a little closer, legs spread wide like he owned the bench seat. "Where you from? You sound kinda like my ma."

 "I don't think that's your business."

 "Hey, doll, no reason to get upset. I'm just making small talk."

 "Well, I'm trying to write a letter."

 "Alright, I get it. I'll leave ya alone." He laid his arms on the back of the bench, on either side of him, staring towards the front of the train car. His hand lay right behind my shoulders, almost touching them. 

 I rolled my eyes. 

 Several more minutes went by and finally I finished my letter. Well, at least I could not think of anything else to write home about. I folded it up, stashing it and my pencil back into my satchel to mail once we reached New York. My last letter written in America. That thought scared me more than I cared to admit. 

 "Letter to a sweetheart?"

 "No," I replied. "Letter home."

 He nodded. "I need to do that myself or my ma will find me no matter where we are and spank me with her wooden spoon."

 I could not help the giggle that bubble up at the image evoked. "That sounds like my grandmother. I swear even the devil is terrified of her."

 He laughed loudly, throwing his head back, eyes crinkling. 

 We both stilled when our sleeping companion shifted in his seat, running a hand over his face. Just as soon as he began moving, he stopped once again, snores filling the air. 

 I looked back out the window, watching the countryside pass. How soon would it be before I saw America again after I left? Would I ever? How much longer could this war drag on for? How different would I be when I returned home? Would my family even recognize me?

 "So, you gonna tell me your name yet, beautiful?" My other companion teased, sliding slightly closer. 

 Before I could open my mouth, a deep, husky voice spoke, sending shivers down my spine. "That's Nurse to you, Private."

 I looked over to see Ron standing in the walkway, arms crossed. His signature glare aimed at the paratrooper next to me. Death in his eyes. 

 My companion froze under the intense look, like prey just waiting for the predator's jaws to rip them apart. "Yes...ah, yes, sir."

 "I suggest you find yourself another seat."

 The Private scrambled out of his seat without a backward glance at me, mumbling something at Ron before briskly walking away and finding a seat further up the train car. 

 "Awww…. I think you scared him away."

 Ron stared at me for a moment before glancing around and settling into the seat just vacated. "Why aren't you with the other nurses?"

 "Just needed some quiet for a minute so I could write a letter home."

 He raised an eyebrow. That man could carry entire conversations with just his facial expressions. 

 "The Private came after I was already sitting." I explained, knowing that was what he wanted to know.

 He seemed to think it over before taking my hand in his. Something he had never done in public before. A small smirk teased his lips as he entwined our fingers. "Did you write home about me?"

 "No. Should I have?"

 He sat there quietly, rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand. 

 "I thought about it." I admitted, looking at our hands. Though I could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on my face, I did not meet it. "But… I did not want… they would think then…"

 "I want you to write me."

 My head shot up, eyes wide and lips parted. "Really? Are you sure?"

 He mock-glared at me.

 "Will you write me back?"

 To my endless surprise, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, leaving me speechless. "I'll think about it." He winked before getting up and smoothing back out his impeccable Class A uniform. "I'll find you when we arrive."

 "Ok." I answered meekly, my brain trying to understand what just happened. 

 With one more longing look, he nodded and started back down the train car, disappearing just as quickly as he appeared. 

 He wanted me to write him...and he would write back! 

 And he kissed me. 

 In public! 

 To anyone else it may seem insignificant but for me...this was monumental. He was claiming me as his girl. Not just rumors anymore. It was ridiculous how my heart swelled at the thought. 

 A softly spoken "damn" made my head whip round to see the Private who had been sleeping now staring at me with eyes as big as saucers and mouth hanging open slightly. 

 "Damn." I echoed back, touching my lips, still in shock. 

 I was such a goner for him. Though, I could not find it anywhere in myself to be upset about that. 

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #fluff #soft!speirs

[write-mywayout]

You asked for fic prompts and if you would, the Umbrella Academy kids picking names and Klaus getting his from the "A Series of Unfortunate Events" novels would be great. Or anything fluffy and Klaus related, honestly. (Have a nice trip)

here you go!! hope you enjoy it, please send me more prompts!!

~

The lives of the Hargreeves children were less than normal. Everyone circumstance beginning from their birth had left the seven siblings vulnerable to imaginable amounts of grief, pain, and danger. Each one of them had their way of escaping, if only for a time, from the grim reality that was their lives. Number One found that running drills and sprinting miles helped to clear his head, channeling the emotional exhaustion into a physical one. Number Two liked to sit and watch Grace cross-stitch, the threading of the needle in constant and precise movements serving almost as a type of hypnosis. Number Three enjoyed painting, everything from a canvas to her fingernails to the makeup on her face; she liked the feeling that she could create something out of nothing and had the power to change it whenever she pleased. Number Four loved to design clothes. He would never be able to make or wear any of them considering his forced profession and uniform (not to mention the fact that sewing was not an activity approved for boys), but that didn’t stop him from filling sketchpad after sketch pad with drawings that would rival the runways in Milan. Number Five found solace in cooking, whether this was convincing Grace to let him help with her preparation of meals when he wasn’t training, or simply standing beside her and watching (this happened more often than not since trainings left him generally fatigued). Number Six was an avid reader, he found a kinship in tales of sorrow and monsters, allowing himself to momentarily project into a world where these horrors were not his own but someone else’s. Number Seven drowned herself in music. Once she picked up her father’s old violin, her fingertips itched for new pieces to learn and songs to play.

It is no surprise that these great escape artists would cross paths in their endeavors. Number Seven would bake cookies with Grace while the others were on missions, getting tips from Number Five on how to make the edges crispy while keeping the inside gooey. On their rare days off, Number Four would dress up Number Three in daring outfits, playing music on Number One’s record player and having her strut down the hall to show the others the costumes he had put together for their little fashion show—at the end of which Number Four would come out and bow, giving a small wave with fingernails freshly painted by his runway model. Number Two liked the quiet serenity that followed Number Six when he was tucked away in the corner of the library, enthralled in his latest novel, and would often come and just sit and share the silent peace.

Most of the children eventually followed suit in regards to this specific activity. While Number Two and Number Six still shared their private, hushed reading time, the others gradually began to gravitate toward the calm presence that surrounded Number Six when he was reading. This led to a Sunday night tradition amongst the kids, in which they would all drag pillows from their rooms and curl up next to the fire place in the library after dinner to listen to Number Six read books aloud. It was unspoken that no one talked during this time, unless to ask for clarification or for a part to be repeated. It was a sanctuary away from competition and petty disputes, granting each child the escape that it was.

They tore through every genre. Number Three and Number Four thought Crime and Punishment was a little dense, Number One loved Catch 22 in all it’s confusing wartime glory, Number Five enjoyed the wit and sarcasm of Hamlet, and Number Seven reveled in anything written by Vonnegut (she used to say that “he writes the way music would sound if it were made of words”). The fan favorites, however, were the Series of Unfortunate Events books. To no one’s surprise, all the children felt a connection to the trials and tribulations faced by the Baudelaire orphans. They commiserated the loss of parents and a normal home life, the presence of overbearing and wicked adults who refused to listen, and the overall feeling that their life was indeed the result of a series of terribly lamentable factors.

They were gearing up to finish the third book in the series the night their father announced at dinner that they would be allowed to choose their own names, per approval from Grace. They were allotted twenty four hours to decide. While they all habitually gathered around Number Six near the fire that Sunday night, story time was recklessly abandoned with the excitement and approaching deadline regarding the choosing of their names.

“Should we try to do some sort of theme?” suggested Number Seven.

“Are you kidding? I have waited way too long for this to not make my own, very individual decision,” Number Three said, twisting her curls into a large bun that sat on top of her head.

“I don’t get why we have to be the ones to choose,” grumbled Number One. “I’m just gonna let Grace pick mine, she’ll know what Dad prefers anyway.”

“Sounds about right. Why think for yourself when you could have someone else do it for you?” Number Two mocked.

“Hey! No arguing during story time! You guys know the rules,” Number Four interjected with a disapproving wave of his hands in their direction, subtly scooting himself between the two to act as a physical barrier.

“Six isn’t even reading anything,” Number Five pointed out.

“Well it’s the principle.”

“Ben,” Number Six said softly.

“What?” Number Two asked.

“I think I like the name Ben.”

“That’s so boring,” Number Three laughed. Ben just shrugged.

“I think it suits you,” Number Seven offered with a small smile. Ben returned it with a shy grin of his own.

“Thanks.”

“Anyway, if we’re getting to choose our own names I’m gonna do something cool. Like Storm or Panther or Rocket,” Number Two said excitedly.

“You do realize that all those names just sound like the ones the magazines already give us?” Ben pointed out.

“So what? They give them to us because they think we’re cool.”

“They think I’m cool, but definitely not you,” Number Three teased. Number Two stuck his tongue out in her direction.

“Alright your majesty, so what’s your name gonna be?”

“Hmm, I was thinking something stylish but not too outlandish. Like classy, in an elegant kind of way.”

“Maybe Charlotte?” Number Seven suggested.

“Nah, I don’t want people calling me Charlie. I am so not a Charlie.”

“While you workshop that, I will be naming myself Klaus,” announced Number Four.

“Klaus?” Number One questioned with a subtle look of condemnation.

“Yeah! It’s different, it’s memorable, and it’s…” Number Four mumbled the last part.

“It’s what?” asked Number Five.

“It’s the name of my favorite book character ok?” Number Four said, eyes fixated on the fireplace as his cheeks burned red. Ben smiled next to him.

“Really? Klaus is your favorite character? I would’ve thought you resonated more with Count Olaf. I mean, you do have a similar taste in fashion and flare for the dramatic,” Number Three jabbed.

“Hey! I am not Count Olaf! And his outfits are way tacky, I am honestly offended that you would compare the two of us,” Number Four feigned hurt. “And I like Klaus he’s… smart. He uses knowledge to figure things out and create stuff. And he doesn’t get scared, because he knows he can always find a way to escape, and that he has his family to help him out if he can’t.”

Number Four didn’t want to say it out loud but Klaus was kind of his hero. He dreamt of being as smart as he was, desperate to offer some sort of offensive skill to their team. He knew what the others thought about him sometimes when they went on missions. Sure he was no Number Seven, he did have certified powers after all, but his abilities didn’t really serve in stopping bank robbers or rescuing civilians. And secretly, Number Four always admired Number Six, or Ben now it seemed, for his intelligence. Sometimes he would ask questions while he was reading just to hear him explain the intricacies of some military term or seventeenth century city he didn’t care about simply because he liked to hear someone who knew things talk about them. And, unbeknownst to the others, the two of them would sometimes sneak into each others rooms at night and go under the covers with flashlights to read ahead in their story time books. It never bothered Number Four to hear the chapters again on Sunday, and Ben didn’t seem to mind telling them for a second time.

The rest of the group sat silently for a moment taking in his words. It wasn’t often that Number Four seemed to think something through this thoroughly and then decide to share it. As loud and outgoing as he could be, he never really talked about things of substance. They all knew that he dealt with issues they didn’t—it’s hard not to hear him scream in his nightmares when it reverberates through a silent mansion in the dead of night—but that part of Number Four is always tucked very far away from the sunlight and from the others. Whether that was by choice or necessity, no one was really sure.

“I think it’s perfect… Klaus,” Number Seven encouraged, placing her hand lightly over his and giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you! You can be my Violet Seven,” Klaus smiled and squeezed her hand back. The gesture, both physical and metaphorical with the naming of her as his partner in crime, lit Number Seven’s face with joy.

“Maybe I will be Violet,” she agreed, almost in a whisper.

“Whatever. I’m going to be named Rocket,” Number Two boasted.

~

Number Two was not named Rocket.

Grace met with each of them the next day before dinner to discuss the choices they had come up with and to make sure that they would be Reginald approved, as they were to announce them at the close of the evening’s meal.

Because Number One arrived bearing no opinion on the matter, he picked a name at random from a pre-approved list that their father had drawn up. He felt smug, knowing that this would likely please his father since he was sure that none of his other siblings would dare give up the chance to not let their father decide something. His name, second row and third from the bottom, would be Luther.

Number Two was not happy when all of his name choices were shot down by Grace. He argued that she should be on his side and say screw it to what their father wanted, to which she replied that there were no sides and that he should not use “screw” in that context. He refused to pick from the pre-approved list, so the two of them workshopped a few choices before landing on something Number Two felt was cool enough and that Grace thought Reginald would sign off on. Number Two’s name would be Diego.

Number Three had spent all night going back and forth between names. She was flipping through a magazine when she landed on a photo of a smiling girl, teeth white and head thrown back in laughter, with a quote about how much fun she was having with her friends at this summer’s newest water park attraction. Her fingers stalled on the page, locking eyes with the girl in the photo and wishing that she could trade places with her. She couldn’t help herself from choosing the name scribbled across the model’s photo in bright pink, and so Number Three would be Allison.

To his surprise, Number Four’s name choice was approved without much debate. Grace felt the name was robust and reasonable, which would make Reginald happy, and that it was just as unique as Number Four himself. Without much fuss, Number Four was granted his request and would be Klaus.

Number Six faired similarly to Number Four. His choice in name didn’t spark much concern from Grace, other than the modification that his name must be officially documented in its full version. And so, Number Six would be Ben (officially Benjamin).

Although Number Seven proposed the name Violet to Grace, she was shot down as their father had apparently ruled against the use of colors as names. After seeing her disappoint, Grace compromised by agreeing to let her keep a V name. Number Seven had always loved languages, her favorite being Russian, so Grace decided to choose a name to match. Number Seven would be Vanya.

Number Five would disappear that night during the dinner at which they were all to announce their names. When he didn’t return by the meal’s end, Reginald decided to proceed without him. The children all presented their names, Vanya having to prompt Ben as he had left a customary place for Five to speak in between him and Klaus. When Number Five failed to return late into that night, the kids all snuck into the library one by one, each finding the others waiting for them in a mutual state of insomnia, feeling the need to return to a place of solace and escape. They lit a dim fire and huddled close together, leaning in to hear Ben as he read the book in a whispered tone. Their day of happiness had been overtaken by one of fear and loss, and as each child revelled in their new names they couldn’t help but feel guilty, knowing that somewhere out there, Number Five was still just a number.

#i had so much fun writing this thank you #the umbrella academy #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #grace hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #tua #prompts #my writing #moderngenius94

[hellobengski]

THAILAND: POST COLLEGE ADVENTURE 2017

The last time I felt clouds in my presence was in the year 2012, month of December, in which the airplane landed to Hong Kong. The dilemma of life and death in an open space was merely forgotten, where everything you could see was tranquility. I never wanted to stop looking at cottony clouds. They made me feel safe. It was 5 years later when I felt it again.  I remember how it feels to fly without wings, appreciating the beauty of nature beyond what I imagine.

           Thailand was the next stop on my travel bucket list all over Southeast Asia. It was a place that had similar atmosphere with my very own country. EDSA was the first thing that came into my mind when I walked outside the airport. I heard various honking of buses and cars, but in a more disciplined way, I guess. But more than that, I had a view of a new horizon of tradition and culture.

My mom, sister, and aunt had to travel 2 hours away from the airport so we could check in to the hotel where my sister booked through the online. I was assuming somehow it could be near a quiet place, or maybe a road of consecutive coffee shops, but I failed. It was entirely different than what I anticipated. Khao San Road was a place where small bars and party houses were all located. Abstract shirts, different items with elephant designs were displayed along the narrow road of which tourists could experience a good bargain with merchants. I have seen discrete races all over the world who stayed for quite some time in their respective hotels. I could turn my head 360 and whichever direction I bumped into, I could always see unfamiliar but lovely faces.

We met Ms. Nancy, our tour guide for the 1st day. She had a medium short hair, showed a very long glittery eyelashes in her face, and a pale pink lipstick on her mouth. She had a pleasing personality, I could say, or maybe she needed to be because it was part of her job. She was shorter than me, maybe an inch, and was in her typical shirt and pants with Chuck Taylor shoes to stay comfy.

I only had 2 hours to prepare and fix my baggage before I travel with Ms. Nancy. I swiped the card through the doorknob, allowing me to embrace a very relaxing and convenient 1 single room with 2 large soft beds and pillows. I put my sister’s make-up kit in front of the mirror with a hairdryer beside it. My personal hygiene necessities were located just outside our bedroom, in the midpoint of two comfort rooms, so it would be easier to grab just in case we’re in a hurry to take a bath. My aunt placed some leftover biscuits all the way from Philippines next to the huge flat screen TV. My mom being my mom, tried to clean some of her stuff, but there was no enough time left. Angela, my sister, did some of her retouch on her face to make her feel fresh even when she already felt exhausted. We left the room and ate one of the most popular Thai food called, “Pad-Thai” along the road.

The value of respect of Thai people for their King was the very first thing I ever noticed. As I was riding in an outsized van, I spotted some black and white colored curtains hanged outside the gigantic temples of the individual kings who passed away, and for the royals who are still living. Ms. Nancy shared some of her ideas about Thai’s history, telling us that these long curtains represent grief and condolences for the King who died due to his old age. And this will last for a year, until they go back to the feeling of relief.

I went inside historical temples of different images of Buddha, taking pictures for a remembrance to my relatives when I get back home. I tried eating coconut ice cream for P50 baht, which savored my starving throat into something refreshing. Tuk Tuk, a classic Thai vehicle, impressed me with its three wheels, although Ms. Nancy recommended us not to ride on it. Even if I wanted to stay longer in a certain place, we only had limited time to grasp some of the stories that were in there.

Alarm clocks in our own phone woke up us too early. I didn’t have enough sleep. Maybe because of too much excitement, or maybe because of the extreme coldness inside our room. I woke up at 4 in the morning holding my phone, checking some news and updates in the Philippines. It was a never-ending extra judicial killings on my newsfeed, letting me feel the frustration and agitation for my government’s administration. And few days from now, ironically, I would be home in a place where I wouldn’t feel safe. I didn’t want to think about overthinking, so I tried to wake up my mom. I went directly to the bathroom, thinking about the plans and places Ms. Nancy listed for us the day before she left us in the hotel. Everyone else seemed to be freaking out when I finished taking a bath, considering the only time we had to eat for a buffet breakfast. I chose to wear an orange shirt and shorts with floral design, supposing it would match the places we would be visiting.

Just by the time the restaurant open its door, I hurriedly walked into the different kinds of food. I was truly overwhelmed seeing complete set of breakfast that made my stomach perfectly full.  Sausages on my left, croissants and toasted bread on my right, a problem of choosing between fried rice or pasta, and slices of watermelons and pineapples were put into my plate. I wasn’t even contented at all, I made my own coffee to match my croissants, even bother to get cucumber juice just in case coffee wouldn’t give me satisfaction. The question of time never crossed my mind when all these food were prepared in front of me. Although it was a must to rush, a Thai man, who works with Ms. Nancy in the same travel agency, fetched us. It was a group tour, consisted of two couples, one from America, and the other from Malaysia.

The tour started by introducing Mr. Thai’s name. I forgot, though. He considered making jokes out of telling stories, associated with historical Thai’s exotic food too. He is a 55-year old man, who has 3 kids. All I could remember was every time he gets to see me smiling, the memory of his daughter blissfully retains in his mind. He shared about how he got involved into a travel agency, which I think a lot of Thai people are working at. He was not as chatty as Ms. Nancy, nevertheless, he was entertaining. He showed us the famous Floating Market in Thailand, where tourists needed to ride on a boat to purchase some stuff. I have seen amazing paintings in all sizes, carved vases, coconut ice cream with nuts for its toppings, “lansones” which was sold by an 85-year old woman, weaved hats, and a lot more. The biggest Eureka moment was, all I thought Thailand has only one floating market. By the time we had to leave the place, Mr. I forgot-the-name actually revealed that in every town, has its own one. Well, not a thing was bought during the boating experience, all I know was my heart was fulfilled seeing people enjoying moments that could only last once in a life time.

The magical performance in theater happened at night after the tour in Floating Market. We entered a huge closed room with people wanting to witness such beauty in arts and entertainment.    Siam Niramit, is a state-of-the art theater yielding one of the largest stage productions in the world. It’s a captivating adventure through Thailand’s history and culture in high-flying fashion, with live elephants, acrobatics, pyrotechnics and stunts – all performed by a troupe made up of thousands  of performers adorned in great costumes. I would never forget my mom’s unexplainable reaction and experience throughout the entire show. She wanted to cry out of joy most of the time. It’s as if she didn’t want to go home in the hotel. I never saw rejection from her face, telling me that next time she comes back, it would be with my dad. We captured moments with several actors and actresses after, leaving us a souvenir with elephants, making this as her favorite art of the travel.

Off my bucket list was also riding an elephant. One of the many animals I have always wanted to experience, carabao was supposed to be the first. I think elephants were made to listen closely to everything, to everyone. They were made to be friends with people most especially when you treat them with care and respect. They love watermelons and coconuts. They like being splashed with water after taking us into a routine. They were also trained to take pictures with various poses of their trunks, and that’s how they get to be attractive for locals and foreigners.

The famous Thai massage will never be forgotten. So my brother’s friend who happens to work in Bangkok accompanied us after a very long day in market. This has got to be the most effective massage in my whole life. At first I thought it was brutal, since it was my first time the legit Thai massage. I was taking it easy for the first few minutes but later on, it kinda felt horrible. In a matter of seconds, the compress became weapon and I was literally cringing under the pressure. I actually found myself concentrating on regulating my breathing. The way they provide Thai massages are with entire body. They leverage their own body weight with certain movements in order to provide enough pressure to the body. I did fall asleep several times but still ended with a very soothing cup of tea.

Of course, our vacation wouldn’t be complete without the “party.” Prior to shopping in Chatuchak Market, my sister and I had been planning to socialize with people. We were really after drinks and fries, although it wasn’t our first time doing this, we wanted to make sure to at least meet good-looking guys from Europe. Our mom was subtle with her words but still she allowed us to explore. By the time we went down from our room, that’s when the party started. I thought we were courageous enough to do things beyond our control, but surprisingly, we were like high school students who just stayed in a corner of the street to observe how a street party works. There were people who literally danced as if it was their last day on earth, girls and guys French kissing each other while tossing their drinks, Asians and Americans twerking as if they’re showing off to every person they’d bump into. There was also robbery that happened in 7 Eleven Convenience store, unknowingly grabbing sodas and fresh milk from the fridge, to ease their drunkenness. After all, I saw emptiness. I felt emptiness. The superficiality of society where people wants to fit in to get accepted because after all, no one wants rejection. The façade of being proud “in” but in reality, they’re slowly dying. And for me, street party seemed to be an outlet of frustration, sadness, anxiety, and depression. People always long for something in the end.  But life should be more than a night of drinks and smoke. It should be more than meeting temporary people.

Four days and three nights was a short term goal achieved in knowing and living the life in Thailand. More insights were added to my unending learnings in life. It was more than the feeling of being grateful of what the life has more to offer for people like us who seek for journey mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. Life is really full of surprises and adventures and I couldn’t wait for my next destination. Until next time, Thailand!

#thailand #bucketlist #vacation #vacationtrip #asia #asianculture #thaifood #floatingmarket #party #travel #travelexperience #travelblog #travelstory

[chaymino]

The Comfort Zone Act 3 "The introduction"

I stopped running as I came up to a beach, it was small and strangely enough, I’ve never seen anyone there when I pass it on runs. I just guessed the ground was too rocky or something, either way, I wanted Privacy and this seemed like the perfect place to get it. I looked around, the water was as intimidating as always, there were large rocks leading out around 20 feet out. closer to the end there seemed to be some algae covering them. The actual “beach” was small, lots of white rocks and clean sand. It really did seem untouched. Cautiously I walked out to the edge of the rocks, being sure not to slip on the algae. As I approached the end I quickly glanced around. To my left there was nobody from the way I came. To my right I couldn’t see anyone in the forest. I looked up to make sure Tails’ plane wasn’t in sight. I looked down at my raised hand, specifically at the bracelet. The silver and gold shone brightly with the sunshine beaming on it, but I wasn’t interested in that. The gem in the middle… almost seemed like an eye. I felt it looking at me, and I felt uncomfortable looking directly at it, almost like trying to avoid eye contact with someone. I wanted to find out whether or not it was me that made that hole in the ocean when I fell off the dock. I do feel different since finding that bracelet, but it being magic still seemed far-fetched. I held out my hand and concentrated on the waves. I moved my hand up slowly -still watching the water intently- and nothing happened. I felt stupid. I took a step back, getting ready to turn around and leave. Once again, a wrong move. I slipped and fell backwards, shifting my eyes up as I hit the ground. At least I didn’t fall in the water, it may be shallow enough to stand in, but it would have been cold and obviously wet. Sitting up, my eyes went wide in shock as I saw what just happened. A large pillar of water, right in front of me, rising exactly from the spot I was looking at. It really was me that did it!! The question was how do I make the pillar fall? I can’t leave it there… I looked at the pillar and held out my hand again. I tried to lower my hand to make it fall, slowly at first, then I tried to do it quickly but neither worked. I stood up and looked around again, luckily I still didn’t see anyone. I contemplated whether or not I would need to get in the water to get rid of the pillar but then I remembered the hole, which closed once I got “out” of the water. (I was never technically in it to begin with.) I looked at the gem in the bracelet. “Uhh, a little help maybe?” I asked hopefully. It was a stupid idea but it was worth a shot, it’s not like I know anything about the bracelet. There was a brief moment of silence, then the gem lit up! I expected it to lower the pillar, but that isn’t what happened. Instead, a stream of light Orange mist shot out of the eye-like jewel, and turned into a ghostly Meropian girl, right before my eyes! “Ugh, seriously? You try one thing and give up?! Just like that?” She pestered, an aggravated tone, I just looked at her. She was a light orange color, with a white face, she had white, hair like fins on her head and in other places on her body. Her eyes were brown, and she had a long, red, dress-like shirt on, with 2 white ovals on the front. “Well?! Are you going to do anything or just stand there like an urchin?!?” She pushed in a booming and threatening voice. All I could do was let out a confused and scared whimper. She was way bigger than me, and she was a Meropian on top of it. She slouched over and looked aside, letting out a quiet grumble. “Just swipe your hand to the right.” Her voice was a lot quieter now. I snapped back to reality and did as she said, the tower of water released and fell back, splashing me with droplets of water so cold they made me flinch. “Care to explain all this?” I asked holding up and pointing to the bracelet. The girl sighed. “I am Palyma. Guardian of the Ostium. You wore it, and it… chose you. You opened the gate. It’s yours now. Congratulations I guess.” Palyma explained in a defeated voice. “Well don’t sound so happy about it.” I put my hands on my hips. Assuming she’s been watching me since I found the bracelet she must have noticed that I’m afraid of water, why else would she be so upset about it? “Excuse me?? I was hoping to entrust the Ostium to another Meropian. Not some pathetic hedgehog!” “Hey! I am not pathetic! I’m the fastest thing alive!” “I’ve seen your speed and it doesn’t impress me. It simply reminds me of my enemy. Tell me, hedgehog, have you raced every other lifeform on the planet?” “I mean, no… but I-” “But you can’t know until you do. Arrogance won’t get you anywhere hedgehog.” The nerve of her! I mean she is kinda right about me not actually knowing, but still! “Listen here, “Palyma”, I don’t like being called “hedgehog”. I’m Sonic the hedgehog!” “So I’ve heard.” “Look, I’m not really that interested in… whatever all this is, so if you could take this stuff away that would be great. I can even put your bracelet back where I found it!” Being rid of the bracelet and all that came with it sounded real nice right now. “What? No, Sonic, it doesn’t work like that! You can’t get rid of this, I need you to protect the Ostium, I can’t do it myself, I don’t have a body!” The Meropian insisted with a hint of desperation in her voice. I hated all this water stuff, it made me uncomfortable. On the other hand, I can’t just abandon Palyma if she needs help… I’d never stop thinking about it! “Well, I guess I can try. What exactly is this “Ostium” gonna do to me?” I knew there must be some kind of effect, I could feel it. “The opening of the gate does in fact come with a few… uh… side effects. The Ostium gives off some strong influence on your brain, it can be distracting at times, which I’m sure you’ve noticed by now?” “So the reason I’ve been feeling so uncomfortable since I found it this morning is because it changes the way I think?” That could explain why I keep getting distracted by the ocean. “Not quite. The Ostium doesn’t alter your thought process or change your personality. It simply occupies your train of thought. You feel more uncomfortable than usual around the ocean is because the Ostium is making you pay more attention to the water. You may want to get used to it.” “Sounds fun. How long will that last exactly?” “Don’t know. You’re the first person to open the gate in over a Millenia.” Well this is fantastic! No, No, I have to do this. She needs me. “So uh, what do I do now?” “I guess I can give you some time to adjust before I show you how to use the Ostiums power. Just go about your day normally for now.”

In all honesty I don’t remember much of the day after that, almost every time I saw water or even just the color blue -which I am, mind you- My mind would wander and before I knew it, it was late. I really hoped that these side effects are only temporary, there’s no way I can deal with this much longer. I was already fed up with it, but I tried to stay determined for the sake of helping. I figured I wouldn’t be able to handle it all if it ended up getting worse, and boy did it get worse. I walked downstairs and into my room. I took my shoes off and the bracelet before taking off my gloves and I set it down on my nightstand, I didn’t think much of it, I figured that going to sleep would be the perfect escape from all this confusing stuff. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep but honestly I wish I hadn’t fallen asleep at all. I opened my eyes and was hit with a wave of fear as I realized where I was. I was looking up at sky, and laying on my back but I felt the movement and knew. A steady rocking back and forth and the feeling of wetness on my back. I sat up and was horrified to find that my guess was right. There I was, sitting on a large plank of wood, in the middle of the ocean. “… dang” was the only word I could think of saying. I had a gut feeling this was going to get worse and of course, it did. A large wave hit and tipped the plank. I braced myself and felt the sting of cold seawater as it completely surrounded me. I reached upwards and tried to grab the plank, but when I opened my eyes it was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t know what to do. I just stared at my hand, still reaching towards the surface. Though everything was blurry, I did notice something about that hand that was so subtle yet for some reason filled me with discomfort. This was the hand I was wearing the Ostium on… but it wasn’t there. A searing pain arose in my chest all of a sudden and I closed my eyes, they stung from the water. The pain got worse, and worse, and worse, until I felt like I’d rather be dead than continue to feel it. tuning into my surroundings I realized that I couldn’t feel water around me anymore, or hear it, but I still couldn’t breathe and I was still in pain. I realized that I was laying on something soft, and I opened my eyes to see what was happening. I was in my room? As soon as I realized where I was I could breathe again and in a panic I fell off the bed and landed face first on the floor. I was dreaming, but it was so vivid that I could still feel the intense pain in my chest, and I could hardly breathe despite nothing stopping me. I grabbed the side of my bed and hauled myself off the floor, still trying to catch my breath. I stood up straight, my heart was racing and my hands shaking. I grabbed the bracelet off the nightstand but I didn’t put it on, I stared at the gem. “Palyma!” my tone was more serious than I thought it could be but I went along with it. There was no hesitation this time, the girl emerged from the gem right away, clearly she could tell it was urgent. “What’s wrong? You seem distraught.” She asked sounding surprisingly worried. “Yeah, Those side effects you mentioned yesterday, was one of them having extremely vivid dreams about death?!” “No. Extremely vivid dreams about the ocean. They aren’t always bad though. Unless of course you can’t swim I’d imagine.” No, okay, that’s it, I’m done. Not doing this, no way. I put the bracelet down to put my shoes on, then I picked it back up and left immediately. I ran all the way to the harbor and stopped when I got there. “Sonic? What are you doing? Hello?? Are you listening?” I wasn’t at all. I walked to the edge and looked at the water for a moment. “Sonic, do not do what I think you’re going to do. It won’t solve anything, it’ll only make things worse!” She panicked as I took a few steps back and looked further out, lifting the bracelet in my hand. I’m not gonna do this, I probably won’t be of any help to her anyways. I moved the bracelet far back behind me. “Sonic no! You need me!! Listen!!” But I’ve already tuned her out. With one quick movement, I tossed the bracelet over the edge of the dock. As it left my hand, Palyma vanished inside. I watched it as it flew a fair distance before landing with a “plunk” into the water, it sank right away. Out of sight, out of mind. With the bracelet gone, so will all this other nonsense. The hydrokinesis, the distractions, the awful, awful dreams. It almost felt too easy, but that had to be it. Palyma can find a Meropian to help her, besides, nobody even seems to be after her, nobody up here even know what that thing was. With a huge weight having been lifted from my shoulders I headed back home. Nobody will even know I left.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic boom #sonic forces #archie sonic #tails the fox #Miles Tails Prower #palyma the lionfish #the comfort zone #act 3 #sonic au #au #alternate universe #sonic fanfiction #sonic fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #sonadow