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bentforkent · 3 years

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CAMP FIREFLY - chapter one

word count: 4,210

content warnings: brief joking mention of child death

read on ao3 / read on wattpad (coming soon too lazy to upload there rn lol) / previous part / next part

Emily wakes up on the first day of camp feeling like someone is sitting on her chest. It’s the same atmosphere as usual; her head rises from the same old flat pillow to the same old bunk above her. It’s the same atmosphere, sure, but today feels fundamentally different, for it’s the first time she’ll be interacting with real campers. Children. A gaggle of young folk coming to her every day for instruction or nurturing or a hand with the hot-glue stick. She’s been trained for this, of course, but what if she messes up a craft? What if she accidentally says “fuck”?

Wide awake, JJ and Penelope are up and bouncing around the cabin cheerily by the time Emily wiggles her toes and comes to from Dreamland. Emily had only awoken in the first place because the early-rising pair tuned the radio to something upbeat and relatively staticless, cranking up the volume. Emily would’ve considered that very rude had she not already slept in for an extra hour, and had she not been greeted with incredible excitement once her eyes popped open.

“She’s awake!” JJ cheered, Penelope replying with a soft good morning!. Emily took her time pulling her body from the mattress, and now sits still-groggy on the floor by her bunk, trying to do her makeup in a tiny, fogged compact mirror. Penelope is standing behind JJ, braiding bright purple ribbons into her hair.

It’s so early it’s still dark outside, so the three of them are illuminated by a sorta-eerie yellow light, an old light bulb wired smack in the center of the cabin. Penelope’s bags are packed by the door, and when Emily notices them, she feels a pang of sadness upon remembering that Penelope will be moving out to her own cabin with her own group of campers today. Emily will get to stay with JJ, which she thinks is quite nice, because the only other option was a single room all the way over by Rossi’s office all by herself. And she’s finding that she quite likes spending time with JJ and Penelope, so newfound solitude would be a drag.

The bunch have spent their past week in training--learning the lay of the land through semi-degraded VHS tapes of Rossi when he was young and sprightly still, walking through the camp and delivering very specific instructions on how to deal with very specific situations. Penelope was in charge of teaching the fun stuff---chants and traditions and how to make friendship bracelets.

On a particularly sweaty, boring training day, Emily pulled Aaron aside--away from the group who was watching an old-Rossi-video about the lake just behind the camp--and asked him if everything was always like this. Emily wasn’t entirely sure what the “this” was, whether she meant peppy or hot or musty or involved, but Aaron had nodded his head sympathetically and walked Emily back to her seat with a whispered, “You’ll get used to it.” Emily was only a tiny bit aware of Penelope’s eyes fixated on her as she slumped back down in the sticky plastic seat and focused back on Rossi-with-hair explaining the stupid history of the stupid lake.

And used to it she got. Spencer, too.

Turns out he shared the same sentiment as Emily--the, “I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, but I don’t hate it,” sentiment, as they’d so concisely dubbed it, when they sat together in the back of the big room training was taking place in, gossiping and giggling as Rossi, real Rossi --- old Rossi --- stood in front of the small group and explained yet another probably-self-explanatory camp rule.

For as much training as it feels like they participate in --- or sit through, rather --- Spencer still wakes up on the first day of Real Camp so stressed out he checks for gray hairs in the mirror.

It turns out that you can sit through a series of convoluted VHS tapes and Penelope-lessons and still not know a thing about what you’re supposed to be doing. It also turns out that while Camp Firefly is clearly very loved, it’s not the most...efficient summer camp of the area. Or the most safe. Or staffed. Or large. In fact, Spencer marvels at the fact people even send their kids here to stay. It’s not that the camp is poorly run or anything (to imply that would be to question the abilities of him and his friends, Spencer acknowledges), but there’s got to be better options, is the point.

Besides the small handful of counselors Spencer had become close with, the staff only consists of a trio of kitchen staff, one (one!) lifeguard, and a male nurse that Spencer had spoken to once and left the conversation supremely uneasy at the poor guy giving any medical advice. Spencer made a mental note to try his hardest to not have any health issues during his time here.

The kitchen staff are older---like, appear-in-the-old-training-videos older, but they entertain the rest of the newer, younger staff with stories of their youth. The nature of Camp Firefly means that they have stories about Spencer’s friends, too, as the majority of them have been going to the camp every summer since they were children, aging up into their jobs as counselors.

Spencer hears about the time an elementary-aged Derek begged to help serve food to the other campers just because, and about the time Penelope and JJ (when the story is told, they call her Jennifer) passed a petition calling for Rossi’s retirement around the whole camp, just because he cancelled the Talent Show. (The petition turned up only 4 signatures, and the Talent Show is no longer a Camp Firefly tradition).

It’s awe-inducing to Spencer that these people around him have lived whole lives in these dingy cabins. They’ve known each other for ages, built relationships and traditions and memories and stories, all because their parents chose the cheapest sleepaway camp option.

Spencer wonders how different his life would have turned out if he’d been indoctrinated into Summer Camp Culture in his youth, whether he’d even be at Camp Firefly now. Probably not. Definitely not.

Everyone is hanging out around Rossi’s office when the first bus arrives, lounging against the walls and picking at their cuticles. The sun is meandering its way over the horizon finally, but it still feels impossibly early. The group wears bright orange Camp Firefly t-shirts that are meant to be matching, but budget things mean that some of the shirts are more worn---Aaron’s has the sleeves cut off, and the logo is largely rubbed off of JJ’s---and some are brand new.

The crackling of the bus’ tires signals it’s presence before the vehicle peeks over the hill, and when it’s finally in everyone’s line of vision, it’s like a switch flips. They’re hooting and hollering, jumping and dancing in the name of welcoming this bus. Spencer has a wild grin on his face, and when he meets Emily’s eyes, they share a look of fondness and excitement.

After the first bus arrives, the day goes by as quickly as a montage--a cluster of quickly moving vignettes.

Spencer watches as a young girl stares up at Derek, eyes wide and full of wonder. He’s lifting her--and three other girls’--duffle bags with ease, muscles flexing and shiny with sweat. Same, Spencer thinks, realizing his expression is most likely the same as the girl’s. Derek flashes him a quick, hot smile, and Spencer grins in return.

Emily executes her first craft--a cluster of glitter and string and construction paper--flawlessly. Each group introduces themselves to her with a chorus of “hi Emily,” and it warms her heart more than she expected. One girl missing her front tooth hangs back as her group is leaving--Penelope’s group is leaving--just to tell Emily that she likes her “funny makeup.” It’s just eyeliner, really, it’s not that funny, but the sentiment makes Emily smile nonetheless.

Aaron has some trouble with children in his group picking beds, a small verbal scuffle breaking out between two campers vying for the last top bunk. Aaron, ever a mediator, solves it with a stern glance at the pair and a reminder that the other option out of the two is a bed near a window, another highly-sought-after spot. They fight for the window bed next, and Aaron feels a gray hair sprout on the spot.

Once all of Penelope’s campers have unpacked, she takes them on a top-secret trip down to the lake. It’s definitely not top-secret, it’s a staple of every group’s first-day tour, but Penelope has a knack for making her campers feel special, so they creep around the sandy shore on their tiptoes, whispering, while Andrea the Lifeguard looks on.

Despite the speed and relative easiness of the day, everyone finds themselves exhausted, greeting each other with pantomimes of falling asleep and loud sighs. It’s not been a bad day at all, but a long one, and in an attempt to remedy the feeling Derek graciously offers to run to the supermarket and pick up some fun snacks---a counselors only affair.

Spencer volunteers to accompany him on account of him wanting to spend obscene amounts of time with Derek, and also on the account of Rossi offering his expensive car for Derek to drive. Oh, to feel buttery leather seats and hear music and smell anything but dry leaves and B.O.

As soon as their campers are pawned off to other people and sufficiently supervised, Rossi tosses his keys to Derek, who catches them with a jingle.

“Be back soon,” Derek promises, and Spencer punctuates with a wave and a smile.

The fluorescent lights buzz in Spencer’s ear, comforting him. Bzz, bzz. Hope you like the air conditioning, they call out to him. He sure does.

Normally the energy of these 24/7 high-budget chain grocery stores freak Spencer out. It’s always too bright, too loud, too full-of-people. But tonight, there’s not a soul around except him and Derek and the high-school-aged cashier, so Spencer’s actually feeling particularly soothed. The sounds of Derek’s feet dragging on the shiny floor and the squeaky wheel are good sounds, he decides. He could still do without the candy-coated pop music wafting through the speakers.

The shopping cart remains empty for about fifteen minutes before either of them address it. Derek and Spencer spend those 15 minutes wandering aisles, relatively silent save for short, casual remarks like, “Oh, maybe we should get barbecue chips,” or, “JJ loves these Fruit by The Foot.”

Derek pauses from where he’s pushing the cart and turns to Spencer. “We should probably start shopping for real now, huh?”

Honestly, half of Spencer thought they had been shopping for real already. But apparently, if you’re not putting things in the cart, it doesn’t count, he learns. (Derek might be a misguided teacher in that lesson, though.)

“I like to take my time here, because it’s about the only time during camp I get to be alone,” Derek explains, tossing a loaf of bread into the cart absentmindedly. Bread is not on the list.

Spencer tugs at his fraying string bracelet. “Oh. Sorry, then,” he says. Three boxes of graham crackers are set delicately next to the bread.

“For what?”

“Well, you’re not really alone right now,” Spencer observes.

Derek shrugs casually. “Sure, I guess. But you don’t really count, Spence,” he says.

He means it kindly, Spencer knows. But it’s an odd thing to hear--what does that mean? Is he implying Spencer is too boring, or too quiet? Before Spencer can spiral too much, Derek notices his uncomfortable silence and continues, “Hey, no, I mean because I like spending time with you. Like, it’s easy. I don’t have to think about it.”

Spencer has a flash of a vision of Derek dipping him right there in aisle 6 and planting a nice firm kiss onto his lips. In that vision, there’s a fog machine whirring and some Chopin playing. Vision-Spencer nips at vision-Derek’s lower lip.

Instead of all that, present-moment-Spencer nudges Derek’s shoulder with his own, murmuring a happy little “likewise,” and clinging onto the sound of Derek’s chuckle.

Derek kept his hand on the center console the whole drive home, and Spencer desperately wanted to reach out and grab it, to open his palm and lay in it, letting him be engulfed like a weighted blanket. But he kept his hands to himself, squarely on his thighs.

It’s dark when they return, and the bright LED headlights of Rossi’s fancy car seem out of place when they pull back into the camp. Everything seems out of place. Spencer can’t put his finger on it --- the buildings haven’t shifted, and the camp is exactly the same as it was before he left, and yet he’s got this strange premonition that something is just...off.

Spencer’s shoe is untied, and he can feel the laces whipping his ankle as he and Derek trek to Rossi’s office to return his keys to him. He’d reach down and tie them if not for the plastic bags of groceries in his hand---god forbid he let food sit on the dirty, unpaved path, no matter how many layers of plastic packaging protect it. Besides, the air feels thicker than usual, and each time the knit of his shoelace brushes his skin, Spencer is reminded just how uncomfortable everything feels and how desperate he is to be inside.

Everyone is packed into Rossi’s office when the pair gets there, and Spencer’s stomach sinks the tiniest bit.

Penelope and Emily are lounging in those sticky plastic chairs, showered and smelling like a cocktail of cheap, fruity shampoo. Behind them are Aaron and JJ --- JJ’s standing to braid French braids into Penelope’s wet hair, and Aaron just appears to be shaking out pent-up energy. How he isn’t tired, Spencer doesn’t know. Confused, and with hesitant movements, Derek pushes away a stack of bright-white papers on Rossi’s desk to make space for the grocery bags. “What’s everyone doing in here?” he asks. “I thought we were doing Shifts tonight.”

Now that campers have arrived at the camp, it’s become a little more complicated to hang out as a group in the evenings, as they’ve all got an obligation to be in their cabins just in case. Liabilities, and all that.

The first year Aaron was old enough to become a counselor---he was the first of the bunch to age up into the job---he devised an elaborate, elaborate system that allowed the group to socialize without any sleeping campers being left alone.

It’s complete with maps and rules and a very strict set of time shifts, so in addition to Spencer and Emily’s official training, they’d been trained on the side by a very drill-sergeant-y JJ in what Aaron all those years ago so aptly dubbed “Shifts.”

Neither Spencer nor Emily have got it down yet.

“Rossi has an announcement,” Aaron says, pulling his ankle up behind him into a simple hamstring stretch.

“Yeah, I heard he’s gonna promote you to Head of Grocery Shopping, Der,” Penelope teases, peering jovially at Derek through the corner of her eye.

“Haha,” Derek deadpans, and tosses her a pack of fruit snacks that he’d picked out specifically for her. They're the good brand, the blue bag, and she accepts graciously with a kiss blown in his direction. Derek catches it, and presses it to his cheek.

Emily has noticed that Rossi always slinks into his office after his guests have arrived. He’s never there waiting, never anticipating. She has no clue where he’s coming from, although she assumes it’s from his cabin. He always makes an entrance, always sits with a weird old-guy sigh, and then launches into whatever reason he’d called the meeting in the first place.

On cue, Rossi swings the door open and lowers himself into his chair slowly. Emily anticipates it and then there it is---Rossi sighs that damn sigh, and leans forward onto his desk. Although no one else moves, the air shifts towards him as well, and it feels like the seven of them are all standing nose-to-nose.

Penelope slips Rossi a fruit snack discreetly, sliding it across the table to rest by his elbow.

“You know I love you all very much,” Rossi starts, and Emily feels like she might puke. That’s the thing about her Rossi prediction --- the important part, the part where he speaks, is the part she’ll never be able to guess.

So, she feels like she might puke. Not because she feels ill, of course, but in her experience all of that cheesy, “I love you” bullshit always prefaces the worst news, and she has absolutely no clue what is about to come out of Rossi’s mouth. Her mind leaps to the worst possible conclusion---”You’re firing all of us,” she blurts out, relieving the tension just a tad as JJ bursts into snickers behind her.

Another sigh. “No, I’m not firing you.”

“A kid died?”

“Jesus, Emily, would you let me finish?” Rossi says.

Then, after a deep breath, “Developers are coming tomorrow to look at the land. I’m planning on selling Camp as soon as this summer is finished.”

Oh, Emily thinks.

It hits them like a punch to the gut.

There’s hardly room to breathe in the cabin, let alone fall to the floor, but somehow JJ makes it work. The sound of her knees hitting the wooden floor reverberates and warps through the space.

Emily and Spencer exchange a watery glance and mirror each other, biting the inside of their cheeks at the same time. They share a small, spiritless smile at the misfortune.

Penelope is gasping short and shallow breaths as she staves off cries, reaching down and behind her for JJ, who has tucked her head into her knees, pulling off an emotional Child’s Pose on the filthy floor.

Penelope crying is awkward because Emily is sitting right there, upset as well but characteristically less overt about it. Their knees are touching --- Emily’s right to Penelope’s left --- and yet, there’s no tissue for Emily to give Penelope, no way to console her without feeling irreparably out of place. Emily sinks lower into her seat, wishing she had the confidence to place her hand on Penelope’s leg as a tender signal that she’s there and she understands.

Derek is shoved into Spencer as Aaron pushes past him and out of Rossi’s office. It’s not a malicious push, and the sad look Derek gives Spencer is one of pity both for Aaron and for himself, too. An anguished cry comes from outside, from Aaron, and everyone’s eyes widen a little at the sound.

It’s impressive to Emily just how immediately everyone started crying. Before Rossi had even finished his sentence, there were tears welling up in Penelope’s big hazel eyes. Emily almost feels jealous at the brazen displays of emotion. She wants to love something so hard that she could cry at the drop of a hat over it. Nothing has ever touched her as Camp Firefly has touched Penelope, touched JJ, touched Aaron, touched Derek.

“I feel like my world is crashing around me,” Derek admits shyly. “As stupid as that sounds.”

Spencer nods. He knows the feeling. They sit on the porch of their cabin in creaky rocking chairs, a cloud of bug spray encompassing them.

“It’s like, I grew up at this camp. This camp saved me as a kid.” Derek shakes his head.

This camp is saving me now, Spencer thinks wryly before tucking that thought away in a deep corner of his brain. “I’m really sorry, Derek,” he says sincerely.

The door to the cabin creaks open, and a teary-eyed child steps out onto the porch. His feet are light, and he closes the door behind him slowly, clearly not trying to wake any of his fellow campers. “Derek?” he asks quietly. “I can’t sleep...and I kinda miss my mom.”

“C’mere, then,” Derek says tenderly, and gestures for the boy to sit in one of the unoccupied rocking chairs. “Spencer and I were just talking about how much we miss our moms, right Spence?”

Spencer agrees with a nod and a kind smile directed at the boy, then he takes a backseat to the conversation unfolding in front of him. He watches as Derek effortlessly consoles the weeping child before him by sharing his own stories of similar plights in homesickness and offering jokingly to sing the cabin to sleep next time.

After a few minutes Spencer’s mind starts to wander, curious on how the rest of his friends are sleeping tonight after the news of Camp Firefly’s imminent closure. He hopes Emily is chatting with JJ just as he’s chatting with Derek, comforting her and providing the very few words of solace that would help in this situation. He thinks of Penelope and Aaron, all alone, and he half-considers walking over to each of their cabins just to check on them. He doesn’t, though, because it’s technically against the rules, and because Derek is standing, wrapping up his conversation and holding his hand out to help Spencer up out of his seat. The camper, who Spencer has learned is named Alex, scampers inside, tears dried.

Derek holds intense locked eye-contact with Spencer for a second. His eyes are soul-searching, making it clear that he has something he would like to say to Spencer. Maybe he wants to thank Spencer for listening to him talk, or accompanying him to the grocery store. Spencer quickly flips through a plethora of ideas of what Derek could say next like he’s flipping through a book, but he comes up short.

Derek’s mouth is open slightly, like he’d taken in a breath to speak and then lost his train of thought. The sight of him makes Spencer sweat a little, and just for a moment he feels like maybe he should break the short distance between them and kiss him.

Then Derek is tearing his eyes away, dropping Spencer’s hand, murmuring a gentle, “Sleep well, Spencer,” and retreating inside and to his bunk.

“Goodnight,” Spencer replies, but Derek’s already tucked himself in and turned his back to where Spencer stands by the open door.

Emily is always the last one to fall asleep. She knows this based solely on a feeling, an energy that settles over the camp when everyone else’s eyelashes are finally closed and their breathing patterns slowed. It takes a little longer on this night, considering the 40 new bodies in the vicinity--Welcome, Campers!--and the obviously upsetting news that’d been delivered to her and her friends, but finally Emily feels it. She’s the only one awake.

As much as Emily doesn’t like to spend time to herself, as she often finds herself in rabbit holes of self-loathing thoughts, this nightly hour-or-so of atmospheric solitude is comforting. Usually.

Tonight, she’s reeling with visions of land developers coming to the camp in fancy suits, and clipboards, and leather loafers that are far unsuited to trek through Camp Firefly’s unpaved land. And it sucks to imagine.

Emily has only spent a week or so here at the camp, so she doesn't feel like this loss hits her particularly hard. The only reason she’s even at this tiny camp in the first place is the fact that it’s on the exact opposite end of the country from where she’d spent her spring.

When summer ends, and this camp is gone, all she’ll need to do to heal is move to a new city, and make new friends. Then she’ll repeat the process once she gets hurt or bored. The collection of people who have known and loved Emily Prentiss is so impossibly large, and as a result, large is the collection of people who have lost her and haven’t thought about her since.

With regret, Emily recognizes that the group she’s met and befriended this past week will eventually forget about her, remembering her only as the charismatic figure who took over the Craft Cabin the year the camp closed.

And yet, she feels differently than usual. She thinks of pretty Penelope, who is so sweet and sheepish and shy around her, but blooms into wide smiles and rosy cheeks around others. Of JJ, who eagerly taught her how to braid and make friendship bracelets on only their second day of meeting. Derek and Aaron, the rare macho men who haven’t made her want to gouge her eyes out but instead make her laugh constantly. She thinks of Spencer, the quiet intellectual who she feels such a warmth toward, considering him her baby sibling or her protegé.

She’s not entirely sure of what this emotion is, what it means or what it will mean in the future. What she does know, though, is that she’ll take up as much space as possible until her quiet disband from the mismatched group of friends. It’s how she always goes.

It’s then that she decides fuck the developers and fuck Rossi’s plans. If she’s going down and away with this camp, she might as well make it count. As she closes her eyes, finally ready to sleep, a plan begins to formulate in her mind.

- - - - - - -

next part

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal mind fanfic #penemily #moreid #idk what to tag this as idk just reblog it if u care about me. :D #camp firefly

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earlgreytea68 · 3 years

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So, you know, we all know the journey to this tour has been intense and exhausting, because we had a worldwide pandemic and all that, don’t know if you heard about that or what. And, like, it’s been like everything else in this pandemic, needlessly exhausting, trying to figure out when and where I was going to this show. Like, at one point I was in possession of six tickets to different shows because plans kept changing and changing and changing again. It was all exhausting. I didn’t even buy the ticket at Fenway that got refunded until last week. Like, everything’s just been exhausting and I don’t have the energy to really deal with more than this in a pandemic, I’m just at the end of my rope. The cognitive dissonance of DON’T GO ANYWHERE OR DO ANYTHING and my job simultaneously being like, “Totally normal life! What are you talking about!” is wearing on me. Every day I have conversations with people at work and when I’m done I’m like whispering to myself in the hallway: “Is there a pandemic? There’s a pandemic, right? Isn’t there?” Like, I’m just really tired at this point, as I know we all are, and we’ve got worse to deal with in the future.

But I will say that, like, after the absolute shock of a thing I had not anticipated (I thought they might cancel the tour, honestly, I did not expect them to only cancel *my band* at *my show* lol), I feel better. I was a little freaked out about going to the concert because my niblings are all too young to be vaccinated, and I couldn’t find any guidance out there at all for how long to isolate from them after the concert. Like, everything I read kept being like, “If you’re vaccinated, the odds that you’ll get Covid at an outdoor concert are low!” And that’s clearly not true based on Fall Out Boy’s experience, just saying. So now I don’t have to worry about that anymore, and so maybe it was fate in that way. Also, like, I have been to see them, and that show was perfect and I was lucky and when the show ended I said that I never needed to see another concert ever again because of how perfect it was and I didn’t actually want the universe to take me literally but I just sat and rewatched all my videos from that concert and it was *for my taste* a better set and I had better seats and anyway I just feel a little more like...well, you got to live that and that was pretty incredible so it’s okay.

But also a thing I want to say is, like, aside from the fact that we’re all massively traumatized from the past year and a half in ways that we have had no time or ability to work through and it comes out in us at times we don’t expect and we have to have patience with ourselves, it occurred to me tonight that I might have lingering trauma from other places. Like, I wanted to be like, What is wrong with you, EGT, it’s a concert and you probably shouldn’t have been going in the first place, you’re fine and your family is fine and *get over it,* and I was frustrated with myself all day by how sad I was, and I was like, you know, it’s a pandemic and we’re all tired, be kind to yourself, grieve a little bit, etc.

And then, while I was crawling into bed tonight (I slept HORRIBLY last night because of how upset I was and then I was upset that I was so upset I couldn’t sleep, like, IT’S A CONCERT) I suddenly had this very vivid flashback to this night at my previous job. I had this job, I was stuck in it for years, that was emotionally abusive. Like, it just was. That’s a fact. And so, like, my bosses were always making me cancel fun things I had planned. One day they made me cancel a party I was hosting over the weekend because I had to stay and work that weekend. Stuff like that. A lot. And I was feeling so worn down and exhausted tonight as I crawled into bed, so like physically heavy with a tear-laden headache and I was berating myself for being so dramatic and that’s when the flashback happened: to this one time when I had Nutcracker tickets, and one of my bosses told me I had to get rid of the tickets because I had to work that night, and so I gave the tickets away, and then -- AND THEN -- he suddenly decided we didn’t need to work that night and “gave me the night off.” Like, he thought he was being super-gracious about it. And I was like, OH MY GOD YOU LITERALLY MADE ME GIVE AWAY MY NUTCRACKER TICKETS AND NOW YOU’RE TELLING ME I DON’T EVEN HAVE TO WORK. It was Christmastime (hence the Nutcracker tickets) and I walked to Quincy Market because I thought I might do some Christmas shopping and it was snowing and I walked into a store in Quincy Market and just stood there and sobbed.

I hadn’t thought about that in a while. I left that job ten years ago this year. TEN YEARS. I learned a lot from the experience, and I never really thought that I’d actually forgotten how awful it was. Like, I usually am keenly aware every moment that, no matter what, I don’t spend every day crying on my commute and so I’m doing much better and I’m really lucky. But all of a sudden I realized that I felt today the way I used to feel, all the time, and it suddenly occurred to me that I probably have this lingering trauma from all that that this pandemic has been very triggering of all along, but especially this particular moment of the pandemic, this planning of something that gets unexpectedly taken away. When I got out of that job, it took me literally years to plan things again. Like, I noticed that about myself, that I was hesitant to look forward to things because I was always bracing to be told I couldn’t do them. It literally did take me years to stop feeling that way, to breathe easier when I bought tickets and put things in my calendar, to not anticipate that it was just going to be a disappointing heartbreak when I was told I couldn’t do it. It took me years to get over it...but it’s also been years since I remembered it. And I think this final moment -- of planning something, looking forward to something, and finally, after all of my best efforts, all of the insurance I tried to build in around keeping that thing on my calendar -- that that moment of “nope” sent me tumbling in a way that I’m just now grappling with because it’s just now occurring to me. Like, we have ALL had to give stuff up and been disappointed in the past 18 months and I am not saying that’s not valid, just that I was startled to make this connection to a thing that I thought I was over from way in my past, and it just made me think of how the things that shape you can really show up and floor you when you least expect them to. I was miserable and sullen toward my current job all day today and I thought it was just my mood, but I think now it was specifically me reacting toward a job, like, expecting that to be my source of misery because I was basically reliving the same Nutcracker trauma, without realizing it.

Anyway, this is my armchair psychology of myself. And maybe of you. Always be even kinder to yourself than you think you should be, you’ve got a lot that you’re dealing with, whether you’re conscious of it or whether your subconscious is working overtime for you.

#long post #personal

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theartofbeinganeldar · 5 years

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The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Prologue

Summary: You're a fantasy-loving, LARPing human from this world, who's the black sheep of society because of your obsession for the unreal and alienation of what's real. When you're in the middle of a LARP battle with some pretty phony boars, you fall out of a tree and bust your head. You wake up, alone, and are suddenly attacked by some very pissed-off, very real wargs. Without any idea of how you got there, you got dropped into Middle-Earth, with only bits and pieces of memories of Tolkien's masterpiece, though your recollection of everything else is perfectly clear. And of all places in Middle-Earth, you got dropped into Mirkwood, with some suspicious, potentially hostile, Woodland Elves...

Chapter No.: Prologue

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: So, this is my first fanfiction on tumblr, and I'd thought I'd try it since I have very little time for DeviantArt's chaos. It's much different from my Legolas x Reader on there. I added a small loving family to make the emotions relatable-- even if you don't have siblings, or have more than what I added, it's just fanfiction! Also, I tried to make my pronouns for said reader gender-nuetral so that everybody can enjoy it! The reason your character is so wild is for the sake of not fitting in to this world, yet you're used to it, so that later points in the plot can become more... Well, you'll see. And yes, I made Elves pansexual because I don't think they'd care much about gender or age at that point. LARPing plays a big role in the prologue, because your character is really into it for personal reasons. If this isn't your cup of tea, don't drink it. I hope you like it! Feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

You'd never been considered normal by anyone. You enjoyed LARP instead of reality. Your "job" was just staying at home and captioning videos all day every day you weren't LARPing instead of interacting with society at a normal job. Your home? A tiny studio apartment that only cost $450 a month without bills, and you did without cell phone, car, and electric for the sake of being your weird self. You hadn't been to college yet, despite the fact that everyone told you to go once your gap year was over, and it almost was. What would you even study? Acting was all that got you close to who you were, so, ok, guess that's fine, but nobody else thought of that as a career. Maybe you could write fiction-- you were good at that much.

You weren't always like this. There was a time when you were just a normal kid, living a normal life. But somewhere around ten, you started to change, and by sixteen you'd become who you were today. If the Old You could see the New You, you weren't sure if they'd think you were weird too, or if they'd stare up at you in awe.

Hopefully it was the latter, which made you feel good.

I mean, come on, were you born in the wrong timeframe or what?! That's what you thought, anyway. There's no way that this world was for you. The fact that nearly all people were heartless jackasses that enjoyed destroying the planet, the fact that everybody had to be the same or were considered freaks, prejudice and injustice were key factors of life and the rich got handed everything on a silver platter while the poor had to scavenge... Just, everything of this reality made you hate it. If only you'd been born five hundred years earlier, or, y'know, in Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings...

You'd really liked to have been born in Middle-Earth. You had so many books about it, you knew practically everything there was to know, even the confusing shit about Faramir being in the Fall of Gondolin. You'd practically memorized Elvish, and dwarvish, and you knew the whole six movies by heart, every line. And of course, like most Lord of the Rings fans, you had a massive crush on a certain Elvish princeling who was too pretty for his own good. In fact, Legolas was who inspired you to learn archery; maybe one day you'd be as good as he was.

Despite your wishes, you were stuck in reality, however much you hated it

. Even amongst your LARP groups, you were considered outlandish.

Everybody else had normal lives outside of their games, whereas you pretended this was your life. You didn't have any job aside from the small caption jobs you did when you weren't LARPing, no social life, nothing. The only people you had was your mother, brother, sister, and your only friend, [F/N]. They accepted you and your strange fantasies, even if they thought you'd one day regret acting in a way when you could've been beginning a normal life and being productive.

So excuse you if you decided to invite them to a LARP event and let them borrow some of your costumes. It wasn't the end of the world. But your LARP group apparently didn't get that memo.

"You invited your mom?!" A royal asshole sneered, yet you took satisfaction in the fact that his knight costume looked like it was made of cardboard painted silver, whereas your sci-fi Elf getup was actual leather and cloth. His name was Jacob Brent; you'd never really liked him. He'd always had it out for you because your costumes were so much more fabulous than his. Plus you may or may not have actually known swordplay and archery and dagger throwing and martial arts... Kinda. You were still in the process of learning kickboxing.

You cocked a sky blue-- yes, sky blue-- eyebrow to your equally bright blue hairline, spiked up in a short faux hawk. This was your first sci-fi Elf, and you'd wanted to go all out. A cocky grin split its way across your face. "Yeah, so? It doesn't effect you on any level, Tin Can."

He sniggered with his cronies. "I can't believe you don't have anyone else to come with you." He mimicked rubbing his eyes like he was four. "'Oh Mommy, I need somebody to come with me!'" His whole group burst into laughter.

You surprised them by joining in, actually appluading. "Oh, wow! Wonderful, just wonderful! Hey, should I tell Mindy that I seen you feeling up Roxie behind your fort last week?" He paled, and almost everybody in his group of crappy cosplay got 'o' faces. You put your hands on your hips. "Guess what, asshole, just 'cause I'm close with my family and you're not with yours doesn't make it a crime to hang out with them. It's my life, my decision, and I enjoy spending time with them." You hefted up a disappointingly fake spear, turning to walk away. "Oh, and by the way, your paint's chippin' off."

Reason for Hating Reality Number 6, 965: Immaturity levels are almost incomprehensibly high.

Your mom glared daggers at Jacob's Immaturity Harem. She'd always been a tough gal, always sticking up for you when you got bullied when you were younger, but now that you were an adult, she had to let you kick ass yourself; you were pretty good at it. "I don't like him." She stated casually, and you chuckled.

"'Course you don't. He looks like a cheesy robot costume you'd get from Wal-Mart with a too-big crotch protector that's not impressing anyone but himself, and he has the face of a roasting pig. Too tanned, too grubby, and always with something in his mouth."

She smiled slightly. "Has he always been giving you trouble?"

You swung your gear pack off of your shoulder, letting it yank itself down to earth. "Since the day he tried kissing my ass 'cause he didn't know me." [F/N] must've overheard that last sentence, because he burst into laughter when he approached with your brother, [B/N], and your sister, [S/N]. "You talking about Jacob?"

"Sure as hell."

You'd first met [F/N] a year ago, when you'd joined extra-curricular activites for your last year of high school. He thought your personality was incredibly brave, especially in this modern world, but even still... He was just a friend, not a best friend. You'd never had that luxury outside of your tiny family. You just didn't trust him after the life you'd had.

Unfortunately, it seems they didn't like the getups. "Do I have to wear this?" [B/N] asked dramatically, slumping over. He didn't look right in the pauldrons and leather breastplate.

"It's too heavy!" [S/N] complained.

You sighed theatrically. "My piteous children, deal with thy armor, for it must be worn despite thou complaints."

[B/N] pressed his palms together and bowed down. "Screweth thou, false companion."

You mimicked his bow. "Off to hell with thee."

"Hey! You guys! It's starting!" [F/N] cried, and ran off, his pack of weapons and magic bags trembling dangerously on his back. The rest of you followed more slowly, as you explained to your family how exactly LARPing worked. Battles weren't actually bloody, magic was just colored powder, you get points for a hit, and so on and so forth. [B/N] and [S/N] got it immediately, but your poor mom, who hadn't even ever played Skyrim, had no idea how the point system and leveling up worked. You had to explain it six times over before you'd reached the massive gathering of LARPing cosplayers. [F/N] returned to you as you reached it, carrying a map. "We were in Larsgyushter Prairie last, right?"

"Duh," You shrugged, at the same time [S/N] asked with a grimace, "Luckyestire Prairie?"

[F/N] inclined his head. "Well, I made some arrangements because your family joined us. We made for Glewnburg, where we picked up their characters, and then headed into the Elder Woods."

You took the map. "Sounds fair enough."

[S/N] frowned. "What exactly were you guys doing last time?"

[F/N] blushed; he must've liked her, which made you feel proud and like pummeling him all at once. "A quest to defeat a horde of wildebors in order to get a good amount of gold."

"How much?"

"Four hundred."

Your mom seemed confused. "Is that a lot?"

"For the land of Sisgremor," You retorted, "Not much. But it's enough for us. We hunt for food, and sleep in the woods. It's summertime, so we don't have much need for shelter unless it storms, and we know where to find caves. The coin is for some new bits of armor, and some weapon upgrades and a couple of magic books for [F/N]."

"Oh," Your mom said, and you took the lead, getting into your Elven character with a huge grin on your face.

"Come, my children! We must meet the bors by midday!" You ran off, but you didn't miss the looks over half of the LARP community gave you.

~le time skip~

The one thing you didn't like about LARPing was the enemies. They weren't believable and were crappily dressed, at least in your community. They were crappy actors and their dying acts were unrealistic. Unless they were orcs that had good makeup skills and good cosplay, they weren't worth fighting, but you had an imagination to kick them up a notch.

As always, the wildebors were just some guys in black outfits decorated with needles, and wearing pig masks with an underbite bearing tusks. Your imagination knocked them to eight-feet long beasts with bloodstained tusks, wild red eyes, and porcupine-like needles that shot out of their near-impenetrable hides if provoked.

You'd only fought these beasts once. They had three separate healthbars, each a different strength: eight hundred, four hundred, and one hundred. Your spear-- the only weapon you could afford after your bow snapped (Poor prop craftsmanship.), had a damage rate of ten health per hit, thirty if you could make a three-combo move (The highest combo move allowed.). [F/N]'s magic bombs, bolts of energy, and other magic stuff only varied from ten to fifty health damage per hit, except for his Fyrering, which was a once-a-day power that was ninety health damage, plus a three minute window of burning which took ten damage every thirty seconds.

The boars were also viscious; one hit from them took around fifty health, and at level nine, you and [F/N]'s health bars were only at two hundred and fifty, plus your armor rating of fifty and his of twenty. Your family, however, were only at level one, with a one hundred strength health bar each and armor ratings varying between ten and fifteen.

In short: that meant a hell of a lot of hits, very little openings, and there were always numbers to consider. There were six of them, and five of you. If you had your bow, this would be easy. You'd climb a tree, avoid their needles, and fire your twenty-five damage arrows relentlessly (With the thirty plus bonus from your actual bow.) while [F/N] pelted them with magic. You could take down two, maybe three that way before retreating, waiting for your strength to regenerate and your undamaged arrows to "respawn" before coming back for more battling (The arrows don't actually exist, for safety reasons. You had to wait for ten minutes before an approximated number of arrows, determined previously by the quest-giver, "reappeared" in your "inventory.").

But you had to think of a new plan. A brand new plan. You had three level one novices, two level nine intermediates, and six angry-as-hell wildebors that were level twenty. This was an impossible quest. You should never have accepted it knowing your family was coming.

You were hiding behind a huge oak, and glanced around it; for a split moment, you saw the crappy actors, but your mind quickly fixed that. Above and to your immediate right, [F/N] hid behind a mound of boulders up on a hill, and you'd positioned your family similarly. You just couldn't see them. [F/N]'s hand waving caught your attention. Frantically, he pointed above you. You whipped your head up, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. You gave him a look like WTF dude, and he rolled his eyes. He picked up a rock as an example and pointed back up into the branches, but still, you didn't see anything. He gestured again, almost forcefully, and this time, you seen it: brightnuts, a specialized kind of walnut bred specifically to explode into a bright white light on impact, with dangerous shrapnel and poisonous fumes that had one hundred and fifty health damage.

Of course, in reality, they were just blue and white beanbags hanging in nets rigged all over the branches, but you pretended they weren't.

But still, perfect.

You'd start calling out orders as soon as you started throwing them. [F/N] knew how to improvise to a plan already, but your family didn't. You propped your spear up on the tree, and started climbing, wincing when the bark scraped your palms; you were wearing what'd used to be white bridal gloves, but you'd tinkered with them to match your costume, sewing sky blue patterns into the gloves.

You personally didn't make a sound, but a couple of leaf-covered branches fell; luckily, wildebors were mostly deaf and blind, so you should make it to the top of the tree without any consequences.

You flashed [F/N] a triumphant smile when you reached the topmost branches, snatching a bag of brightnuts and holding them high above your head. He shot you a double thumbs-up, then made a wheel-like gesture to get you to move on. You stuck your tongue out at him, then readjusted yourself on the branch to get a good aim.

A few seconds of struggling against the knot, and you'd gotten the net open. With barely a minute of hesitation, you drew your arm back, and fired. Your aim was almost perfect. You hit one of the wildebors in the side, and you seen the actor as he started the most over-acted reaction you'd seen yet: a violent jump, then what sounded like a deranged "Guuuugh!" You rolled your eyes. So dramatic.

Either way, [F/N] whooped behind you. "Hit! A hit!"

Before you could give any orders whatsoever, [B/N] charged down the hill with his realistic-looking wooden battleaxe bellowing a war cry. You slumped over. "Aw, shit."

In the blink of an eye, [B/N] was officially dead but still pummeling the poor actors, your mom didn't know what to do, [F/N] didn't realize what was happening from behind his rock, and [S/N] was dodging air like a boss. You waited on the branch until the coach of the actors stood, took off his mask, and blew his whistle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You with the axe! You died already! Come on everybody, regroup, come on..." Your mom and [S/N] were laughing it off with a couple of the actors, but [B/N] was having a heated argument with the rest of them, and they were starting to shove each other around; he'd always been a sore loser. The coach separated them, and [F/N] called to you from below. "Guess we failed this quest, huh?"

You shrugged. "It's all good. There are other, less dangerous quests."

He perked up. "Yeah, so hurry up and get down here! We've gotta get back to Glewnburg!"

You tossed the beanbag you'd had in your hand back into the net. "Comin'." Unfortunately for you, you were a bit of a show-off. You stood, stretching your arms out for balance, walking quickly and carefully across the bough. A loud snap that echoed through the forest silenced everyone: your sudden movements had weakened the branch down the middle, where a split was slowly cracking open.

"Oh shit." Did I have to choose the top branch?

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as you fell. Your ribs exploded with pain as you slammed into a slightly lower branch full-force. Your ankle snapped. Your arms were whipped and bruised. Your head cracked painfully across the thick, unmoveable base of one branch, and white and yellow dots burst in your vision. Your sight started to fade, as did the pain, until you met the ground with a dull thud.

I should've went to college.

~time skip~

When you woke up, the first thing you realized was, Hey, I woke up! I'm alive! which was immediately followed by, Holy fucking shit what the fucking hell did I break, then a much more painful thought of Why the fuck am I still in the goddamn forest?

And you were. You were laying on your side, in a couple of very small but still immensely terrifying pools of drying blood, one of which came from the corner of your mouth. Your entire body throbbed painfully. Every breath you took caused sharp, white-hot pains to spiderweb across your entire torso. Your ankle was burning up, and you couldn't move it or your left arm. Your head felt like you'd been hit by a truck. A truck made of solid wood...

Why were you still in the forest? You knew your mother well enough to know that she've panicked. She'd've screamed your name and ran to you and called 911 immediately. [F/N] would've done the same. In fact, there was no reason why they wouldn't have called for a medic. You fell from the equivalent of a three-story building with poles sticking out of it.

By all accounts, you should be near death.

So why were you still in the forest, exactly where you'd fell?

With immense effort, you rolled onto your back, panting heavily and wincing against the pain. Your vision swam, and things were blurry. The trees were different; the tree where you'd fallen from was tall and branchless for most of the way up, and definitely not an oak. To boot, there weren't any nets full of beanbags, and your spear was gone. Behind you was a cliff with an outcropping of rock that looked similar-- but not the same-- to the one [F/N] had been behind. There were roots and underbrush and bushes and walls of thorny branches surrounding you, and in between the ground was filled of orange and gold fallen leaves; up in the canopy, which hadn't been as thick before, the leaves were all dressed for Fall. You stared at it in confusion. "What the hell?" Shit. Even that hurt.

Where were you? Why weren't you in an ambulance with the sirens blaring? You were pretty positive you'd broken quite a few bones, and from that fall, you couldn't not have internal bleeding. So where were you?

You waited, but no one came. When the sky started to darken and the pain began to worsen, you were forced to move, slowly getting up, inch by inch, until you'd managed to be in a sitting position. It felt like all the blood rushed from your head and torso, making you cold in the evening chill. You hugged your right arm to your chest, really wishing you'd've worn arm cuffs or something; your short, high-collared, sleeveless, sky-blue leather jacket over a thin white crop top and a black corset-style belt really weren't meant for chilly weather.

"Hello?" You called out. Your voice carried on, but you got no return call. Blood trickled down your chin from where your lips had rebusted; you were lucky you hadn't bit your tongue off or shattered teeth. "Hey! Help!" Still, nothing. "Hey!"

After a twenty-minute bout of screaming for help, you gave up. You were confused-- so, so, confused. Where were you and why were you here? Where was your family? Where was [F/N]? Where was the coach, and those shitty actors? Hell, where was the rest of the LARP group? You'd even be relieved if Jacob appeared out of nowhere.

The moon had risen by the time you’d made it to your feet. Your ankle wasn't as bad as it was earlier; you could put some weight on it now, even if it wasn't a lot. You must've only sprained it. You tried calling for help a few more times, but only the crickets replied.

Then, they went silent.

You frowned. In books and movies, that was usually a bad sign. What'd caused them to shut up so abruptly? Not aliens, you hoped, like in Signs.

A low growl from behind you-- behind you, dammit-- made your skin crawl. A chill ran down your spine. You turned, slowly, hoping you wouldn't aggravate the wolf or coywolf or whatever it was; it wasn't either of those.

It stood on top of the small cliff, and it was at least the size of a horse. A boar-like coat, dull brown, covered its entire body, spotted in places. Its head was broad and massive, bearing an underbite of fangs and small beady eyes. Drool fell from its jaws as it snarled at you. You were half tempted to try the "Nice doggie" before you seen the rider.

Damn, it was ugly as hell. Small, malformed, with dark green skin and a crooked nose. Greasy, thin hair hung from its wrinkled scalp. Nasty claws protruded from its wart-covered fingers and dug into the horn of some kind of saddle. It sneered with an evil grin, and a mouthful of sharp teeth.

You didn't know what else to do; you took off running at full speed, ignoring the pains shooting up your leg from your sprained ankle. Branches and weeds whipped your skin, trailing blood. You glanced back once. The monster-- which you knew was an orc-- and the giant dog that you couldn't place the name of watched you for a couple of moments more before the orc gave a sharp order in a language you didn't understand, but it felt familiar. Two more of the giant dogs burst from the bushes on either side of the first, and they did give chase. Shit, were they what'd happened to your family? Some whackjob dressed as an orc riding a pitbull on steroids mauled everybody?!

You pushed yourself to run faster. Your heart pounded in your ears. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Each step jarred your aching body, but you couldn't stop. The dogs were enjoying the chase, keeping their strides slow enough to still be on your heels, but not close enough to get you yet. A new sound-- a river, maybe-- gave you hope, and you tried to move even faster, your lungs burning from the strain.

It was a river you'd heard, but it was down a steep hill filled of arching roots and thorny bushes. You didn't have time to stop; you barreled forward, tripped, and rolled the rest of the way, hurting your body even further. By the time you reached the pebbly shore (With all of the sharp edges of the rocks jabbing into you unnecessarily.), the dogs were halfway down, the orcs riding them laughing like hyenas.

You couldn't swim, but you'd rather take your chances with the river than with the giant pitbulls. You waded in, and were immediately swept off your feet by the strong current. It dragged you under, and you were bashed into some boulders, getting cut up badly. One slammed into your hip, nearly causing you to suck in. Another rammed into your already-broken ribs, and this time, you did scream, getting a huge gulp of water. A crimson cloud engulfed you as something long and sharp burst through your calf. You were pushed up against another boulder, and you grabbed on, hauling yourself out of the water and hanging on for dear life, hacking and coughing out the water that'd filled your lungs.

The dogs had chased you up the shoreline, and the orcs carried shortbows with arrows of dark wood. A glance down and, sure as fuck, they'd hit you with one in the calf, dammit. You looked ahead of you: rapids, a slow and drawn-out death. Ahead of you, probably a very painful death, but hopefully it'd go faster than drowning while being battered to a lifeless corpse.

I should've gone to college.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and braced yourself for the next arrow, but you were pretty much forced to open them again when you heard the sound of dogs yelping and orcs wailing. One of the dogs was dead, neck slashed open and pouring blood onto the rocks. It had landed on its rider, who struggled beneath its weight. The other dog had taken off, but its rider had an arrow jutting out of its face.

A troop of warriors, clad in forest-colored tunics of dark browns, greens, and grays had appeared in the second you'd closed your eyes. Every one of them had long, straight hair, braided away from their faces. Most had a quiver of arrows and a longbow, but some, like the one who'd killed the dog, had a curved longsword. Others still had long knives. Compared to the dark orcs, these people seemed to almost be made of light...

Oh shit.

Elves. These were Elves.You could see it clearly now, in the way they carried themselves: regal, majestic, every move perfectly balanced and smooth. Their ears were pointed, but not drastically like the ones from Zelda, and they were taller than most average men. You were in awe.

These were some damn good actors.

No, they couldn't be actors. That clicked, finally. Especially when you were able to see the one that'd killed the dog slice off the struggling orc's head cleanly and deftly before kicking it into the river. Thankfully, it didn't come near you.

Shit. These were real orcs, real giant bloodthirsty dogs, real Elves... This was all real. But how...?

You heard the sound of a bowstring being pulled taut, much closer to you. You couldn't exactly whip around in your current state, but you still moved as fast as you could. Another Elf, standing on the flat rocks halfway across the river, no less than thirty feet away. How the hell did he get there?!

After the initial shock passed, you realized there was an arrow nocked in the bow. You'd already felt one once in the last ten minutes, you didn't need to feel it again, so you stayed still. He watched you with eyes so blue you could see them from where you were. He was illuminated from the side by the moon, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. His hair was somewhere between platinum and very light blonde, and a quiver of orange-feathered arrows hung over two identical sheaths for ivory-handled long knives. His bow was almost as gorgeous as he was: dark wood engraved with golden leaf designs. His tunic was dark green, and you admired his fancy Elven belts and buckles and bracers for a second before your eyes were drawn back to his face, the profile of which was almost... Dished, in a way, like an Arabian horse's. Your eyes locked, and you felt as if you'd seen him somewhere before...

An Elf on the shoreline spoke, breaking the trance. You couldn't understand what exactly he said; you could've swore you knew some Elvish...

The Elf staring you down watched you for a minute longer, then jerked his bow toward you in gesture, shouting an order to one of his comrades. His voice sounded so familiar... It was on the tip of your brain... It was deep and soft and gentle and commanding all at once. You couldn't explain it. Two Elves followed his order, nimbly leaping from tiny rock to tiny rock to get to where he was, then past him, coming to you. Their weapons were sheathed, so you hoped they were going to help you instead of kicking you into the water or something.

Carefully, noticing how banged up you were, they grabbed you underneath of the arms and lifted you onto the flat rocks the blue-eyed Elf stood on, still ready to fire, and stepped back as you coughed up some water in a delayed reaction to nearly drowning.

When you finished, your eyes felt like they wanted to close on their own. You felt too tired, too weak, too pained... Despite that, you sat up, shivering in the chilly evening air. "Th-thank you..." With a start, you realized they might not even understand English.

"Who are you?" The blue-eyed Elf demanded. "Answer me quickly; do not think we cannot throw you back to the river."

Shit. Pressure. Suddenly you forgot your name for a split second. "I-I'm [Y/N]."

"What are you doing in these lands?"

"I was chased," You looked pointedly at the dog and orc.

The Elf watched you for a minute, judging you... He signaled. "Throw them back into the river." Suddenly, you were being dragged.

Aw, fuck. You struggled against the Elf's strong grips. "W-wait! I don't even know where I am! The last thing I knew I was playing a game with my family and I fell out of a tree! All of a sudden I'm being chased by giant dogs and being manhandled by a couple of Elvish pri--!" You were cut off by a bought of coughing that wracked your body so hard that you doubled in on yourself, pulling the Elves down with you. Your eyes widened when blood trickled out of your mouth, leaving crimson droplets on the rocks. Shit.

The blue-eyed Elf ordered something in their tongue, and the two dragging you halted on a dime. He finally decided to lower his bow a little, inspecting you. "Are there more of you?"

You shook your head; you were getting dizzy, and your vision was blacking out. "I-I don't know... I was alone when I woke up."

The Elves conversed in their own language for a few minutes, and the blue-eyed Elf finally came to the conclusion that you weren't much of a threat in your current state. He looked to the Elves on the shoreline, and gestured at one of the ones holding you, who then scooped you up bridal style, but like you were the ugliest bride he'd ever seen. "Und win'doheim!" Shouted the blue-eyed Elf, obviously the one in charge, and lead the progression back to the forest.

I should never have gotten out of bed today...

Despite the crazy situation, you managed to doze off a few times on the Elf that carried you, until a coughing fit or pain would wake you up. A fever spiked up as you crossed a bridge, and you were half out of it as you entered some kind of woody building surrounded by trees and rivers that you couldn't comprehend very well in your feverish state. You were panting and wheezing, and couldn't see straight. It all seemed so surreal, like you were viewing this from somebody else's perspective. This had to be a dream... A very vivid, very painful dream...

The last thing you remembered was Elvish chanting, golden and white lights surrounding you, and the silhouettes of the Elves. Your pain faded, and you fell into a forced sleep.

When you woke up, a breath of relief whooshed out of your lungs. It was a dream! It was all a dream! It was night, and your nighlight had gone out, but your hall light was still on. You turned over to see what time it was, but your nightstand was gone. So was your window, and shelves and desk and computer and all of your things. Your bed was different. Your relief dissipated to terror.

Fuck. It wasn't a dream.

You were in a small room. An orange-hued light came through the low doorway, and the dark walls were ridged, as if carved from the earth itself. You felt the remains of your injuries from earlier-- or days ago, you couldn't tell how much time had passed-- as throbbing remains. Your clothes were still ripped and bloodstained, and as you stood up, it felt like you were just coming off of the flu.

Wobbly, you staggered over to the doorway, hoping to find somebody that definitely wasn't an orc or Elf.

You slammed face-first into elaborately crafted iron bars.

Outside of them, fully-armored Elves patrolled on small ledges beside the spiraling rows upon rows of cells like yours. This was a dungeon.

...Well shit.

Tag List: @tesserphantom @thedragonghostofmordor @taurlel @hauntedsiriel

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aliveanddrunkonsunlight · 5 years

Note

Prompt: Brienne is a guitarist in a tribute band that has a viral video. Jaime, the guitarist in the "real" band, sees the video and goes to one of their shows.

Sapphire Blue Guitar

Words: 2,690

Notes: Inspired by Liz Phair, Kim Gordon, and the Fender sapphire blue electric guitar. @bussdowntarthiana i hope you like it!

“100,000!” she hears Sansa announce.

Brienne is still half asleep, but slowly rises upon hearing her friend’s announcement. By the time her feet hit the floor and she staggers out to the living room, she sees her other roommates and bandmates, Asha and Ygritte, shuffling around the kitchen, looking like they are dealing with the same emotional hangover. (Ygritte might be suffering from an actual hangover. She was knocking back shots last night.) They all grab at the coffees Sansa has brought, made to everyone’s order, and demolish the box of donuts.

“Did you save one for Margaery?” Sansa calls. Ygritte, Asha, and Brienne exchange wide-eyed, guilty looks, and burst into laughter. Asha puts back a chocolate one for Marg.

“What’s the count at now?” Asha asks as they join Sansa in the living room, flopping down on couches, balancing coffee cups, and licking their fingers clean of powdered sugar or icing from the donuts.

“105,000.” The three of them nod, trying not to get too excited. Brienne knows it’s the most hits they’ve ever had. Maybe they would finally start booking more gigs at places other than Qyburn’s Goat.

The set last night was amazing. She wasn’t sure if it was the energy of the crowd or what, but the songs were tight. They stopped worrying about the mechanics and simply let go and had fun.

Perhaps too much fun, judging from the half naked man trying to sneak out of the house right now. Asha lets out a cheer, Sansa turns beet red, and Ygritte waves it off. “Aw, that’s just Jon.” She beckons him over and tips her head over the back of the couch to give him a kiss.

“Ugh,” Sansa moans, hiding her face in a pillow. “That’s my brother.”

“I’ll call you later,” he promises. “Great show, ladies.” He smiles at their group before heading out the door.

“Great show, ladies,” Asha repeats in a mocking, derisive tone, until Ygritte nudges her in the shoulder.

“Do we want to have our decompression sesh now?” Brienne asks, stifling a yawn. She’s half wondering if the number of hits on their video has anything to do with their song choice.

“Margaery’s not even awake yet. Can’t start a band meeting without our lead singer.”

The four of them met in college due to their love of the rock band, The Kingslayers. One night at karaoke, when they found out Margaery could actually sing, they decided to form their own group. “A kind of gender reversal thing” as Asha had coined it, The Queenslayers. They started out messing around by playing a couple songs at a student talent show, but the response was so great, they kept it up, and started doing more and more covers of their favorite Kingslayers songs. By graduation, they were a full blown tribute band with regular gigs.

They all had other jobs, but the whole thing, which started out as a college joke, felt like it was snowballing into something serious these last few months. The Kingslayers, who had stopped recording and touring years before, announced they were doing a new album and accompanying comeback tour. Due to The Kingslayers’ return, more people seemed to have gotten wind of their little band, and more and more people were showing up to their sets.

Sansa was social media obsessed and had been friends with Brienne for years, so it made sense to bring her into the fold, and she had nearly doubled their hits in the past few months.

“Oh my god,” she exclaims, looking at her phone now. “We’re at 250,000. That’s…impossible. When did I check last?”

Asha’s eyes widened. “Not that long ago! Before Jon strolled through.”

Chaos erupts in their living room. “Don’t remind me!” Sansa declares, as Ygritte is grabbing for her phone, and nearly knocks over Asha’s coffee before Brienne swoops it up, saving their living room floor from another disaster.

She glaces up to see Margaery smiling as she comes in, looking perfectly put together as always in an emerald green silk robe, a hint of lacy lingerie peeking out as the robe falls off one shoulder. “What’s going on?” she asks innocently.

“One of our songs from last night has a bunch of hits. Show her, Sansa,” Asha prompts. She hands her phone to Margaery, her fingers trembling a little. Sansa’s cheeks flush before she turns to look at Brienne, who gives her friend a reassuring smile.

“Well, that is exciting.”

“Tyrion.” He shook his brother awake from where he was passed out on Jaime’s living room couch after a particularly fierce night out.

“Wha-gog?”

Jaime shoves his phone into his brother’s hand. “Just watch this. Addam sent it to me.” He crosses into the kitchen in his giant loft apartment. As he makes coffee, he can hear the tinny strains of the song through the phone’s speakers and hums along under his breath. It finally gets to the part Jaime has been waiting for, the guitar solo. He watched it about five times this morning. The shock of blonde hair falling in her face, the way her fingers fly faster and better than his own. His guitar skills haven’t been the same since the accident.

“Damn,” Tyrion grunts when Jaime returns and sets a steaming mug in front of him. “They’re good.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “She is. The guitarist. Their singer could be better and their drummer is shit, but she…” he taps his fingers on the phone over the woman paused mid-solo. “…she’s the key to all of it.”

“Maybe I should hire her for the tour, then,” Tyrion snarks. Squinting, his brother watches the video again. “Gods, they’re young,” he breathes.

“They’re not. We’re just old. Old and washed up,” Jaime tosses over his shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen to make them breakfast.

“Speak for yourself!”

The past few days have been insane. The video reached two million views (and counting), the local news contacted them for an interview on their morning show, other media outlets have been bugging them for comment, and they still have their regular gig at Qyburn’s on Saturday. Sansa spends most of the week freaking out about whether or not they could be sued by The Kingslayers’ legal team, but the day before their show, she receives a very brief, but nice email from Tyrion Lannister, the band’s manager (and brother to their lead guitarist.) “Saw this. Rock on, girls!”

“Girls,” Asha sneers.

“It’s nice,” Brienne replies. “Like he’s giving us his blessing.” She feels a bit uncertain about all the attention and prefers to concentrate on their upcoming show. Their house seems to have fallen into constant bickering about what their future might hold, so Brienne holes up in her room, fooling around with half-written songs. It’s her father’s old guitar, not the sleek blue electric Fender she uses at gigs, the one which matches her eyes. It’s taken her a number of years, but she’s written a few songs, and she only hopes that one day she’ll get to play them.

Qyburn’s is packed. No, packed doesn’t even cover it. It’s teeming. They arrive a few hours early to have time for a sound check and there’s already a line around the block. “Holy shit,” Asha intones.

Nerves begin to prick at Brienne’s stomach. Sansa steers the car as close to the door as possible. Margaery is following behind in a separate car with Ygritte’s drum set.

After their sound check, she bums around in her old Kingslayers’ t-shirt and jeans for a bit until they all start getting ready. Brienne doesn’t usually put much thought into what she is going to wear for shows, but tonight she put together what feels like an appropriate outfit. She changes into a well-worn striped black and white t-shirt, ripped black tights, and a pair of men’s maroon shorts over the tights. She prefers jeans, but they get hot during shows, and Margaery is always telling Brienne her best feature is her legs.

During sound check, she noticed her hands were twitchy, almost little muscle tremors. But now they are full on shaking. She has them tucked under her thighs as Margaery does a smoky eye on her.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she breathes.

“Don’t tell the others,” Margaery says very quietly. “But you’re the best out of all of us, Bri. So you can. I’ve seen how strong you are.” With all the bickering lately, it’s easy to forget how long they’ve all known each other and how well each of them know her. It’s comforting.

Brienne nods, glancing at herself in the mirror. The eye makeup is a lot, but she loves it. “Thank you,” she says, giving Margaery a tight squeeze. “You’re amazing.”

All week, Jaime tries to convince himself not to go, but curiosity gets the better of him and he finds himself ushered into Qyburn’s via the kitchen. He’s wearing a red and yellow plaid shirt and a black baseball cap pulled down over his hair.

There’s a giant roar from the crowd as Queenslayers take the stage and he laughs, knowing what it’s like to be on the other end of that. His heart clenches when he sees her, blonde hair swept out of her eyes for now, a beaming blush coloring her cheeks as she looks out at the crowd and gives a little wave. She grips her blue electric guitar. Beautiful hands, he thinks. Long, nimble fingers.

It takes her a couple songs to get into it, but if she’s nervous, he can’t tell. By the third song, she and the bass guitarist are bopping around the stage and his eyes can’t help but travel the length of her legs, can see the lines of muscle in her calves. He feels dirty for even noticing and swallows the rest of his beer.

It’s an odd feeling, listening to songs he wrote years ago, but there’s a pride there, too. They sound better in person than the video. The singer is evocative and flirty, even more so than Addam, which he didn’t think was possible. When they get to the song he’s been waiting to hear, as soon as she starts to play the guitar solo, electricity races up his spine. His heart is pounding in time to the music and he licks his lips, watching her with anticipation. Come on, he thinks. You got this. It’s strange, but he wants her to do well. He hasn’t even met her, but somehow feels he knows her. When she finishes, he gives a shout from the back. “Woohoo!” Others join in and the cheers travel up to the stage. She smiles, a blush rising in her cheeks again. She searches the back of the room, shielding her eyes with her hand for a moment, looking for someone. Looking for him.

After their set, Brienne watches her bandmates. Ygritte finds Jon in the crowd, Asha and Theon are already headed towards the bar, and much to Brienne and Sansa’s surprise both, Margaery kisses Sansa as soon as she steps off stage. The two of them smiling at each other giddily before they find Renly and Loras in the crowd. Brienne tries to ignore the envy which washes over her. Everyone has someone. Except her. Her dad has always been supportive of her music–he had even called her when he saw the video–but he’s busy with his new family on Tarth and she cannot picture him hanging out in Qyburn’s to hear her play.

Brienne makes her way to the back, getting stopped by a few people in the crowd who congratulate her on the video or tell her “great show” with bright smiles and a nod, but she’s relieved when she arrives at the bar and signals Hodor for her usual. “I’ve got it,” the man next to her gestures to the bartender.

She’s surprised and surveys him out of the corner of her eye quickly before he turns towards her, flashing her a smile. The smile she would recognize anywhere. It’s dark and he’s wearing a baseball cap pulled low, but there are green eyes peeking out underneath the rim. Ohmygods. It can’t be.

“Jaime Lannister?” she asks, dumbfounded. Why would he bother? She remembers Sansa’s worries about the Kingslayers suing them and her stomach plummets. But why would they send him? They would send a team of lawyers instead.

“Shhh,” he presses a finger to his lips, his other hand falling to her wrist to quiet her.

“Oh my gods,” she replies, her tone muted. “It’s really you. What the fuck.” She covers her mouth with her hand, horrified she just cursed in front of her idol, but he laughs and some of the worry slips from her body. He has the most beautiful laugh. And he’s gorgeous. Not that she doubted he would be, but she can tell, even though his looks are tucked under a baseball cap and his body hidden by long sleeves. “I mean,” she tries again, knowing she’s beet red. “Thank you for coming?”

“Is that a question?” he winks at her and thankfully their drinks arrive, because she’s pretty sure she’s died or melted into the floor or something. It’s Jaime Lannister. Standing here. Talking to her like they’ve known each other for years.

“No, really, thank you. What the hell are you doing here?”

He grins and gods, he’s so fucking easy on the eyes it hurts. She feels like an awkward giant next to him and probably looks absolutely ridiculous in this eye makeup when she’s not on stage, but then he’s speaking and her brain stops freaking out so she can listen. “I saw the video, like the rest of the world. You’re good.”

“Thanks.” It’s such an automatic response, but she tries to let the simple praise infiltrate her many layers of defense. Tries to truly absorb that her favorite musician told her their band was good. “So has…did the whole band see it?”

“Of course. Addam’s the one who sent it to me.” He takes a sip of his beer before he turns his whole body towards her, leans in so close she can feel the heat from his skin. She feels dizzy and turned on and confused all at once. “The band is good,” he murmurs in her ear. “But you, you’re truly talented. You know that, right?” He draws back to gage her reaction and finds himself arrested by her eyes. The blue so deep it nearly matches the color of her guitar, the same blue of his mother’s wedding ring made of sapphires and rubies. Her eyes are steady. A calm in a stormy sea. “The guitar solo,” he nods up at the stage. “You’re better than I am. My brother would kill me for saying that, but it’s the truth.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she admits. Brienne’s half convinced he’s lying, half wonders if he’s trying to get her to sleep with him or if he has some ulterior motive, but the way he’s smiling at her, the way his face softens whenever she talks, she doesn’t think so. He’s a millionaire. He doesn’t have to come to dank bars to see tribute bands play in order to get someone into bed with him. He seems genuine. “Thank you. That means a lot.” She’s nearly finished her beer and glances up to see if Hodor is nearby so she can order another.

“Let’s go outside,” Jaime suggests. “It’s too hard to talk in here. I want to get to know you, Brienne Tarth.” Her skin prickles with the heat of his voice saying her name. She follows him outside, half laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

“I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.”

He holds the kitchen door open for her and there’s a cool breeze as they step outside. “I doubt that.”

#jaime x brienne #prompts #braime fanfiction #modern au #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth

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dvp95 · 5 years

Text

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 4

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e (eventually)

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 3,122 for this chapter (15,775 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

i want to die

Aw, what happened? Did you give SugarScape spoilers?

Despite Dan's horrible mood, that makes him snort. no you buffoon 1 sugarscape has been dead for yrs, much like how i would like to be 2 i don't say spoilers ever 3 it's WORSE

I may be a little out of the loop. You gonna make me guess? I'm sure it wasn't as bad as you think it was.

phil, Dan sends on its own for emphasis. i touched my coworkers tit on live telly and now i can't look her in the fucking eye

Jaime hadn't actually cared much. She'd laughed at him, made some jokes about how Dan's spatial awareness hadn't developed yet, and then moved on with grace. Meanwhile, Dan had been having a mild panic attack on his side of the sofa because all he'd meant to do was brush a distracting piece of lint off Jaime's shoulder and, somehow, drastically missed.

It was all of ten seconds of his life, and Dan is still freaking out about it. He's been pacing his hotel room since they got back, hasn't even bothered changing out of the nice shirt he'd worn for the interview.

Like accidentally? Phil finally replies on Dan's third lap of the room.

no phil i need to grope people on camera to finish. what kind of person do you think i am. YES ACCIDENTALLY.

I dunno what you're into. I'm sure she knew it was an accident?

Yes, Jaime knows it was an accident, but that's not the point. there will be gifs phil

Phil sends him some emojis, only some of which make any sense in context. Dan isn't sure why that calms him down so much. He sits on the edge of his bed and sighs, waiting for Phil to stop typing. It takes a while, but eventually Phil says, Then you'll deal with them. It honestly can't be worse than you falling off the Jimmy Kimmel stage? I swear I saw that gif for months before I knew who you were. And if you're worried about people saying you did it on purpose, tell Jaime. You can talk about it like adults.

It's all laid out very clearly, and while it does make Dan feel better, he doesn't think he's finished being dramatic yet. He checks the time and sighs heavily.

dont suppose you'd be up for a late lunch/early dinner to distract me??

Sure! :), Phil responds immediately. The quickness of his agreement makes that part of Dan's brain start shouting again. I'm actually filming today though. I'll be done in like half an hour if you want to meet me here? Then we can either get takeaway or go out?

It's truly fascinating to Dan how practiced Phil seems to be at giving someone options and pretending like either one is fine rather than just offering his own opinion on the matter.

After assuring Phil that he'll be there, Dan considers getting changed. He's only got fifteen if he wants to get to Phil's place on time, and he isn't exactly known for his quick wardrobe decisions.

In the end, Dan just swaps his nice shoes for some sneakers and rolls his sleeves up. He's a little overdressed still, a McQueen button-down maybe a little too fancy for just hanging out with a new friend, but. He doesn't want to be late. Besides, he looks good. Maybe he likes the idea of Phil being surprised, looking him up and down, having the interview as an excuse to be so dressed up.

The part of Dan's brain that exists to remind him that men are attractive has been so, so loud this week. It's been impossible to ignore.

Dan messes with his straightened fringe until his phone beeps, telling him his Uber is outside. He remembers where Phil lives, in the very vaguest sense, but has to get the exact address from Phil.

He's glad that Phil's front door is painted a specific sort of blue. It would be just Dan's luck to knock on the wrong narrow brick building.

Thor barks, somewhere inside, and Dan shoves his hands in his jean pockets as he waits for Phil to answer the door.

"Hey!" Phil greets him before he's even fully opened the door, beaming. To the great pleasure of Dan's ego, Phil's eyebrows raise as he looks Dan over. "Y'know, you could have changed. I wouldn't have minded waiting a bit."

"Feeling underdressed?" Dan teases.

"A little," says Phil. He pushes his glasses up and gestures at his own graphic tee and slippered feet. "If I'd known there was a dress code, I'd have put on a sports coat."

"You look fine, I was just impatient," says Dan. He waits for another beat. "Uh, can I... come in?"

Phil is giving him a smile, the one with deep eye crinkles and his tongue trapped in his teeth, but it drops as he realises that they've just been standing in his doorway. "Oh! Yeah, sorry, come in. I'm actually not done filming just yet, Thor distracted me. Shouldn't take long."

"What are you filming?" Dan asks curiously, his heart pounding a bit as he follows Phil inside and then, surprisingly, downstairs. "Wait, you're the basement flat? Your video lighting is so good, though!"

"Mostly artificial," says Phil. He sounds wistful. "Someday I'll have a place with a glass window, just you wait."

"What are your windows made of now?"

"What? They're made of glass."

"Then why would you need to wait for one?"

"What did I say?"

"Glass window," says Dan, fighting back giggles. They reach the basement door and Phil lets them in, giving Dan a sheepish sort of smile over his shoulder.

"I meant a glass wall. Like a wall of windows, y'know? That's the dream."

"Yeah, it is," Dan agrees, but he's distracted by the fact that he's in Phil's flat. He kicks his shoes off among the pile next to the door and looks around. "It feels super weird to be seeing this place in 3D."

"Oh, probably," Phil laughs. "You want some slippers? My feet get so cold down here, I've got like a dozen pairs."

"I'm alright."

Phil's flat has less natural light than Dan had expected - or, evidently, than Phil would prefer - but the sheer number of lamps, string lights, and scented candles scattered around the place give it a soft glow that Dan is a big fan of. There are bright colours on every surface and every wall, and the overall effect isn't as overwhelming as it could be. Dan still thinks it could be edited down, but. It's very Phil.

To his vague surprise, he sees Phil's bed pushed against the far wall, a backless bookshelf the only divider from the open living space. Box lights and camera are all set up at the side of his bed.

"If I didn't know what you did for a living," says Dan, gesturing at the setup.

Phil grins at him. "Yeah. My landlord still doesn't believe that I don't make porn. You want a drink?"

"Sure, whatever you're having," says Dan. He spots Thor, curled up on a fluffy dog bed in the corner, and immediately starts cooing. "Oh, there you are! Hello!"

Thor perks up, cocking his head to the side, and Dan gets on the floor to call him over. Within seconds, he ends up on his back with an armful of happy puppy, and he giggles helplessly as Thor licks all over his face.

"Thor, down," Phil says from somewhere above them, sounding amused. Thor backs off, winding through Phil's legs a couple of times before he trots back to his bed.

"I love him," Dan informs Phil, still flat on his back. It's not the most flattering angle to look up at Phil, but he can deal.

"So do I," says Phil. He holds up a glass. "Ribena?"

"Please," says Dan, standing back up to accept the drink. He suddenly feels very weird, standing in the middle of Phil's lounge slash dining area slash kitchen slash bedroom. "Er, you've still got to finish filming, yeah? I can just... sit."

With a small grin, Phil waves at his sofa. "Make yourself at home. Just try not to rile Thor up too much? He's already made my blooper reel longer than the video itself."

"I think I can handle that."

Dan cannot, in fact, handle it. He brings his Ribena to the floor so he can sit next to the dog bed and scratch all of Thor's favourite spots. He finds one of Thor's toys as he listens to Phil wrap up a story that sounds maybe ten percent true, and then - well. It progresses to a tug of war before Dan can even entertain the idea that this might be distracting to Phil.

"Dan," Phil says, in this tone like he's trying to sound stern but can't stop smiling. "Are you growling at Thor?"

Yes. "Maybe."

"Maybe? I'm literally filming right now."

"He's just so cute," Dan whines.

"I know he is," says Phil. "I deal with this struggle every day of my life."

Dan sighs and lets Thor have the rope, watching wistfully as he zooms off with it. "Sorry, I'm really not trying to be a dick. I know this is your job."

"Hey, no," says Phil, suddenly sounding much closer. Dan looks up from corgi-watching to see Phil leaning against one side of his shelves, hands in his pockets and a soft smile playing around his lips. Butterflies erupt somewhere in Dan's belly. "I'm not bothered, really. I think it's cute. I just also, y'know, would like to eat sometime today."

"Why don't I just order something?" Dan suggests.

"Alright," Phil hums. "I'm lactose intolerant and hate mushrooms, but the intolerance can be ignored for pizza if that's what you want."

If that's what Dan wants. "What do you want?"

Phil blinks. "Oh, whatever."

"No," Dan presses. He knows it isn't very good manners, but he wants to see if Phil will actually offer an opinion of his own instead of walking that thin line of indifference. "I will quite literally eat anything. You pick."

It's quiet for a moment while Phil thinks it over, only the hum of the refrigerator and Thor's little huffs of breath for background noise. Dan has to admit that the small basement windows have an upside - less traffic din is able to get through. Coupled with the way Phil has lit his flat, the atmosphere makes Dan feel comfortable, like he could curl up here and just stay.

The rug under Dan is soft, the Ribena is perfectly watered down, and he's got a cute dog and a cute boy to stare at. He really could sit here forever and be content.

"I feel like Chinese," Phil says eventually. He's chewing on his lip, and Dan realises he hasn't seen Phil look so... anxious.

"Chinese sounds great," says Dan. "I'll order."

Phil seems relieved that he hasn't accidentally made a horrible choice or something, and he goes back to filming while Dan fucks around on different apps to find the best Chinese place in Phil's area.

"You never actually told me how you managed to grope someone."

Dan, who had gotten all wrapped up in chow mein and MasterChef and had forgotten his hellish morning by this point, chokes on air.

"Oh my god, nooooo," he groans, covering his face with both hands and sinking further into the sofa. He hears Phil laugh. "She just! Had some fucking, like, fluff on her shoulder. Like lint. I was gonna brush it off."

"How did you fuck that up so hard?" Phil asks. He sounds so amused that Dan wants to keep hiding, but the curse has him peeking out between his fingers curiously.

"I've never heard you swear," says Dan.

"I don't," says Phil, "on YouTube."

Unfortunately for Dan, the sound of Phil swearing is very hot. He groans again, overdramatic to cover up his very real blush, and gesticulates wildly. "My limbs are not friends with my brain, okay, I've got very big hands and I misjudged where I was putting one of them."

"Yeah, you do." Phil's eyes track Dan's hands with an intensity that makes Dan's gut constrict. Then he blinks, meets Dan's eye again, and the look is gone. "That sucks. I get it, though, my body and brain are not on the same frequency at all."

Dan thinks, a little hysterically, that this is a very good reason not to try and have sex with AmazingPhil - he doesn't want to end up in A&E.

There are roughly a hundred other reasons, too. Dan's uncertainty about his own identity, the fact that he's only in the UK for another two weeks, and the very real bond that they've been forming as friends are all at the forefront of his mind. Even so, it helps to make a joke to himself about it.

"Have you ever touched a tit accidentally?" Dan asks dryly.

"I've never touched a tit at all," says Phil. He's drinking coffee despite the hour hurtling into evening quickly, and Dan has to wonder if he ever sleeps. "Not really my wheelhouse."

"They're fine," Dan says, with much less enthusiasm than he normally would. He can't sit here and talk about his boob opinions with Phil, though, because that way lies madness. So he changes the subject, talks loudly about the episode of MasterChef they're on.

He's not ready to come out properly to himself, let alone to someone he barely knows.

Well, okay. It would be more accurate to say 'just met', because Dan feels like he does know Phil fairly well at this point. At least as well as he knows Jaime or Patrick. And maybe that's more of a commentary on how shit a coworker he is, how bad at making friends he is, but whatever. The point is that he likes spending time with Phil a lot, and he wants to do it more, but he can't have that conversation yet.

Dan knows he's attracted to guys. When he was younger and had an even worse handle on himself, that attraction would either lead to fumbling, fearing for his safety, or both.

Right now, specifically, he is attracted to Phil. This feels different, because he's got no reason to fear Phil or to immediately jump him, he's just comfortable sitting next to Phil in the dim light and letting the warmth of the feelings settle in his chest.

Maybe someday he'll be ready to tell Phil that he likes guys. Maybe that'll even go somewhere. For now, Dan is going to trash talk the chefs like he knows what he's talking about and settle into Phil's sofa and laugh like he belongs there.

Dan gets a little too comfortable. He has no idea what time it is when his eyes start to droop, but he's sure it's unreasonably early for someone who goes to sleep in the wee hours of morning most of the time.

A hand on his shoulder jerks him back into full awareness, and Dan blinks over at Phil. "Whuh?"

"Hey," says Phil. He's smiling and his voice is low. Dan can feel the slight chill of Phil's palm through the thin material of his dress shirt.

It's overwhelming, suddenly, how much Dan wants to lean in to Phil. The itch under his skin that he would feel ten years or so ago, the restless, guilty want that had him falling into bed with whatever bloke would let him, is thrumming through him with an intensity he hasn't prepared for. Dan's tongue feels heavy, and his gaze drops to Phil's mouth before he can stop it.

"Hey," echoes Dan, a beat or two late.

"You're falling asleep," Phil says. There's something about his tone that Dan can't quite place, so focused on his own emotions as he is. "You wanna stay over?"

Dan really, really does. But he really, really, really shouldn't.

"I can't," he says, not bothering to hide how regretful it makes him to turn the offer down. "Breakfast telly or whatever in the morning."

The loss of Phil's hand on Dan is one that he thinks he'll be feeling until Phil touches him again. "Of course. You probably have to wake up ridiculously early for that, huh?"

"Unfortunately."

Dan orders himself an Uber and slides to the floor with Thor in order to stop himself from giving his body what it wants in the short amount of time before it arrives. Thor likes the attention, and when Dan glances up to see the soft, unguarded look in Phil's eye, he thinks that Phil probably doesn't mind being ditched for his dog.

They chat about MasterChef and Dan's upcoming interview for a few minutes, safe topics, and Dan is disappointed when his phone beeps with the notification that his driver is close. He doesn't actually want to leave, he just knows he has to.

"We have to do this again before you head up to Edinburgh," says Phil. He walks Dan to the door, which is a little pointless - it's a total of eight steps away.

"How'd you know we're going to Edinburgh this weekend?" Dan asks, distracted from the process of getting his shoes on.

"Been in the business a while, lucky guess."

"Right. Well, then, I'll have to see what I'm doing on Friday."

"Yeah, just message me," says Phil.

There's a moment after Dan gets his shoes on where they're both just standing there looking at each other, and Dan's heart starts pounding like he's getting chased.

"I'll see you Friday," Dan says quietly, even though he isn't sure that he's free. He just needs to say something. His phone beeps again, probably telling him the driver is outside, and Dan is both relieved and annoyed.

Phil opens his mouth to say something, but Dan's racing heart and anxious mind doesn't want to hear whatever it is. He steps forward and wraps his arms around Phil's waist in a tight goodbye hug. It's the sort of embrace he'd give any of his friends, nothing overly intimate, but he knows he'll be thinking about it later anyway.

When Phil's arms drape over Dan's shoulders and his thumb brushes deliberate circles over the back of Dan's neck, it hits Dan very suddenly that if he were to try and kiss Phil right now, Phil would let him. That kind of knowledge is intoxicating, the surety of it making Dan's head swim.

But. He still doesn't know for sure what he wants, and his Uber is waiting. So he just pulls away, says goodnight, leaves.

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #phan #words words words #can't breathe when you touch my sleeve

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optimusprius · 4 years

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An Introduction

This is truly a monumental first. If a first was the third or fourth time I have attempted to start a blog in the past 18 months, but what better time to get stuck into something like this than in the middle of an international pandemic that has forced billions of people into hiding away in their homes while a microscopic bat bug runs rampant across all the populated continents. I guess that was all the incentive I needed to genuinely start detailing my thoughts, feelings and actions in a semi consistent and somewhat entertaining manner. Because, despite me being in a place of relative peace and stability despite the current situation, there is still a lot going on inside that head of mine, as well as the overflowing catalogue of memories that are trapped inside my brain, just waiting to be unleashed upon this unsuspecting planet.

I’m 31. Single. Living by myself (this month being an exception what with the national lockdown and all that, but maybe more on that in a future post). I was born and raised in a little place known as New Zealand, and still currently live there, my feet currently planted in a little tourist town known as Taupo where I protect our native forests and wildlife, primarily by killing wildlife that doesn’t exactly belong here (shoutout to my colonial ancestors who thought it was a great idea to flood this country with all manner of rats, possums, ferrets and rabbits in order to make the countryside feel more ‘European’ and to increase biological diversity......yeah.....those guys weren’t exactly educated on matters relating to ecology). I have also been a lab tech, working in quarries, gold mines, and an agricultural R & D department. I have delivered mail for a living. I was a teenage lumberjack. I have been a ‘full time’ streamer on Twitch. I have gotten up at 4am and milked cows in order to pay for a university education that has barely benefited me.

That time spent at uni gifted me a double degree (BA, majoring in Media Studies and a BSc, majoring in Geography) which I have hardly used, but hey! At least it provided me with years of crippling debt that I have yet to pay off. On top of that I have dropped out of two other schools - Media Design, where I had dreams of becoming a video game developer until I realised I was absolutely horrible at programming 2 weeks in. And there was the half year I spent training to become a Vet Nurse, not a Veterinarian, which seems to be a common misconception when I need to elaborate on this story. Anyways, I spent 6 months out of 12 realising that while looking after sick animals was a fulfilling and worthwhile pursuit, being some Vet’s personal assistant and dealing with chaotic and inconsolable clients was so unbelievably nightmarish that I jumped ship. I played football (or soccer, for you ‘Muricans) for 19 years straight until a freak injury had me sidelined for the past 6 years, but I still intend to get back into playing one of these days, if my worn and broken body allows me to. I played 11 aside, 7 aside, 5 aside, futsal and anything in between, and there were many winter months where I was either training or playing every single day. I was never particularly talented or skilled, but that didn’t stop me from loving the hell out of it. As my current job, and previous snippet about vet nursing suggested, I have a strong interest in animals and nature and have always marveled at all creatures big and small. My favourite? The Orca Whale, hands down. Nothing even comes close to those majestic, mysterious and awe inspiring creatures, and the few times I have seen them in the wild have left me utterly and absolutely floored. I have two dogs and a cat who all live with my parents for the time being, but I do hope I can live somewhere that allows me to be closer to them one day, fingers and toes crossed on that one. I have an incredibly strong interest in narrative based forms of media - regardless of what form they are in. Books, movies, video games, songs, and shows, I have a fascination with narratives and how stories can be told. Which is probably why most of my free time is usually spent invested in one or more of these avenues at any given time, and one day, maybe, possibly, I may even create a story of my own and share it with others. We shall see. Don’t be holding your breath on that one, this blog is probably going to be the first tentative baby step towards getting me used to writing with some creativity again, and if I manage to be consistent and shake that rust off I may be able to take things to the next level and tell a tale or two. And on that note I shall leave things there. A rather dry, run of the mill introduction to kick things off, but we all have to start somewhere, right? And if you have made it this far, I appreciate you taking the time to read this. Until next time!

#firstpost #introduction #writing #blog #thoughts

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ofwolvesandbutterflies · 6 years

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nothing good is forever

Pairing: NCT’s Taeyong x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags: idol verse!au

Warnings: strong language, mentions of mature themes

A/N: partially based off the song (x). I start crying every. single. freaking. time. so yeah, bringing back my old angsty style of writing.

Happy New Years, my dears! I love you all so much! I hope you all stay warm, eat good foods and spend this season with loved ones.

“Hey, Taeyong.” another brightly smiling face shot the attractive yet permanently scowling male a kind greeting. Sucking in another unnecessary breath, Taeyong bit back a nasty retort before turning and nodding his head in a type of laid back acknowledgement.

“Hansol, how… lovely to see you. I thought you took the week off.”

“Ahh, you heard,” the older male laughed jovially, smile lines creasing happily around his eyes and broad smile. Stepping further into the unusually untidy studio space, Hansol clapped Taeyong on the shoulder. “I am taking the week off, I just thought I’d drop by work to drop off some Christmas gifts from the family.”

“Christmas gifts.” The scowl of Taeyong’s lips tightened as a rush of sour memories began to flood his mind. “...Right.” Shaking off Hansol’s hand, the younger male placed the headphones over his ears once more. With any organic sound immediately replaced with the familiar melody Taeyong had been working on for the past couple weeks, the older male was left with no other choice than to place the tin of home-baked cookies on the couch by the door and leave soundlessly.

Despite his cold front when it came to all things merry and bright, Taeyong didn’t hate Christmas, no. Not at all.

He didn’t hate the lights, the decorations, the smell of peppermint and pine trees everywhere, or the annoying repeats of “Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” that played at least once every hour… He didn’t hate Christmas at all. However, though he didn’t hate it, he didn’t quite like it either.

Why? It was quite simple really. The lights, the decorations, the smell of peppermint and pine trees everywhere and the annoying repeats of “Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” all just reminded him of you.

You were a memory. You were a constant memory. You were a cherished memory. You were a painful memory. And you were a memory he would never be able to love… and that’s what he hated.

Ten years ago, you had been but a mere background dancer for SM. You had starred in many of SM’s performances and a couple of NCT’s stages, as if 18 members wasn’t enough. However, it wasn’t until you had secured a completely different job that you and Taeyong actually met.

“Hello,” you started off cheerfully, wide smile placed across your lips, pen posed millimeters above the fad wad of paper in your hand. “My name is __, I’ll be your waitress this evening.”

The weight of a million eyes landed on you all of a sudden. Glancing up at the table of… many, many young men, an inaudible gasp shot from your lips. Dark, stylish clothing, face masks, piercings, brightly colored hair… These men were… these men were from your other job. And not only were they from your other job, they were idols from your other job. Holy mother of shi-.

You shook the shock from your features. They weren’t here for a show or to be idols, they were most likely here to relax, just be another human and with the reaction you’d just displayed, chances were, they weren’t feeling that relaxed anymore.

“Ahh, sorry,” you rushed to say. A particular pair of dark eyes narrowed at you cautiously, gaze weighing your’s down heavily and it took all of you not to look up to see who it was. Doing your best to ignore it, you continued on. “My mind just slipped. Can I get you started with any drinks?”

A collective murmuring of ‘water’ and ‘apple juice’ sprung up and your eyes widened. Out of nowhere, someone mumbled ‘actually, can I have a milk’. And you sighed.

Damn.. There were ten of the eighteen members of NCT sitting right in front of you and they were all hungry. Throwing a hand over your hip, you tossed them all a weighted smille. This would be a long night.

As you collected orders, waited and cleared tables, offered smile after smile after smile, seconds quickly turned into hours gone by. Soon enough, the only full table left in your section was the one NCT occupied. Leaning against the bar, you smiled, slowly counting off the heads of the remaining customers at the table.

One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Six… Seven… Eight… And nine. Wait. Shaking your head, you recounted again. Nine. You hadn’t notice one leave. No. You had gotten ten orders of food from then… All ten of those chairs had been filled. Utterly flabbergasted, you began to name off the names of the members from the subgroup of NCT 127. There was Johnny, Doyoung, Haechan, Jungwoo, and Taeil sitting over of the side facing you. The one who just scooted away Yuta must have been Win Win, and that was Mark sitting next to him. Squinting your eyes a little bit more at the hooded figure sitting near Mark, a clear laugh rang out, and a tinge of pink colored your cheeks. Jung Jaehyun.

Though you admired all eighteen of the members of NCT, Jung Jaehyun was your unspoken bias. With that deep, honey-smooth voice, a trim body and the breathtakingly good looks to knock anyone out, there was just something about him that dragged an unwarranted sense of awe over you every time you saw him.

So then… who was missing? You narrowed your eyes, re-listing the names in your head. Johnny… Jungwoo… Win Win… Snapping suddenly, the missing member’s name cleared in your mind.

Lee Taey-

“Excuse me, Miss __.”

Barely able to stifle the shriek from spilling out of your mouth, you spun on your heel to find yourself face to face with the missing member from NCT 127.

In all of your life, you had never visualized yourself ever being this close to the man you found to be as close to perfect as the human population could ever get. Even in a pair of worn out sweats, he was just as attractive, if not more so, than you had seen in photos and in music videos. Realizing you had yet to respond to him, you blinked yourself out of your stupor. Taeyong’s dangerously deep eyes swam recognition when you stuttered out a weak, “yes?”

“I recognized you from the company,” he began to say, soft voice somehow blocking out the pumping of the music throughout the room. “- and I just wanted to thank you for not making a big scene out of us being here. It means a lot.”

“Oh. Uh…” You stuttered, mind suddenly devoid of any intelligent phrases. “I mean, of course. You’re welcome. It’s my responsibility as a civil individual to mind my own business and not make anyone’s life harder than it already might be.” The uneasy, nervous smile sitting on his lips made you double take. Was this the same man who onstage rapped fiercely about suggestive things?

“Still though,” Taeyong protested, gaze not meeting your eyes, an elegant hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I know we can be a handful and I also wanted to thank you and simultaneously apologize for how loud we might have been.”

A warm feeling bloomed in your chest at his heartfelt words.

“Oh-okay.. You’re welcome and it’s fine. It was nice seeing you guys be able to enjoy yourselves outside of idol work.”

He shot you one last, beautiful, genuine smile and went to sit down with the rest of his members, his laugh and clear voice standing out far above the rest. Jung Jaehyun might have been your unspoken bias, but Lee Taeyong… That talented man would always stand far out against the rest of them.

Taeyong was a romantic, but falling in love at first sight was something he had trouble finding credibility in. Love took time. Love was not something one should rush into. He was almost certain that those who claimed that they had fallen in love at first sight were exaggerating. After all, admiration would turn into affectionate feelings and affectionate feelings would turn into love gradually.

At least… that was what he continued to tell himself every time he found heartbeat quickening when his mind wandered to your honest words and your clear smile that first night. Soon enough, the thoughts of you began to appear more consistently and Taeyong began to fantasize about the somewhat slim possibility of seeing you again.

The second time he saw you was just as unexpected as the first. He had been out on a late night jog back to the company to grab a practice bag containing an important flash drive then to the nearest convenience store to pick up some noodles when he encountered you in all of your dancing beauty.

As soon as the lights went out, Taeyong strolled out of the room, just about to pull out his phone to let Doyoung know he was on his way home when the distinct sound of music wafted through the air. Thoroughly intrigued, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and followed the tune of what sounded like “Black on Black”. He snickered to himself, a smirk quirking his lips up, expecting to open the other practice room and find another one of his members.

However, a soon as he neared the windowed door of the other room, Taeyong stopped in his tracks, lips parted in shock, smirk long forgotten.

The last thirty seconds to “Black on Black” reached his ears just as his eyes took in the familiar, lithe figure of the person who had been the cause of his less than focused thoughts. With your hair hidden beneath the beanie and legs wrapped elegantly in a pair of tights, you looked absolutely gorgeous. Taeyong couldn’t help the protective surge that rushed through him when you tripped. But, before he could do anything, you picked yourself back up, wiping the sweat from your brow before rewinding the music and running back through it again.

And he stood there, awestruck, for the remainder of the song.

All concept of time left him as Taeyong stood there, jaw hanging agape as you flowed through the dance moves like they were imprinted in your DNA. The look of concentration in your intense eyes glowed with a renewed passion and rivaled even the glittering city skyline. Never had he been so spellbound.

Finally, the song began to come to a close as the telltale notes rang out through the room. Then and only then was Taeyong able to sober up enough to realize that the reason the quick pace at which his heart was beating… was from you.

Now ten years later, Taeyong was still single. The possibility of him hearing from you had ended years ago, ten years to be exact.

With his eyes bouncing from thing to thing in the quiet of the brightly lit store, Taeyong’s lips remained in the same tight line. Once again, Christmas had rounded the corner without his knowledge and once again his mind found itself wandering to you. A subconscious sigh passed his lips.

He wondered what you were doing now… if you had gotten married, if you had any children.

On the topic of children, Taeyong’s attention was suddenly torn violently out of his thoughts by the sound of small feet shuffling feet against the floor. Looking up, he spotted the smaller kid in line before him, pacing back and forth, clothes thrown in in a disarray, a pair of pretty heeled shoes clutched desperately in his grubby hands.

As always, the appearance of the most random of things ricocheted him back into the deepest parts of his mind. The shoes… you… you loved to dance.

Even with baggy sweats, messy hair and tired eyes, when the music was on your body moved smoothly to the music like it was nothing.

The third time he saw you was at a rehearsal.

As an idol, Taeyong’s life was full of comebacks, stages, performances and this small-scale performance shouldn’t have been any different. Except… it was.

One second, he was rapping the bridge from ‘Boss’. The next, you were there, nearly hidden within the mass amount of other dancers. Although you were dressed in the same ripped jeans and light shirt as everyone else, it seemed different, more attractive, better looking on you. The flip of your hair, the twist of your body… everything seemed to be accentuated and elegant when you did it. And after seeing you dance that time before, Taeyong was sure he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything but.

By some stroke of unbelievable luck, he was able to finish the rehearsal without any major slip-ups and almost immediately, he turned to look for you in the crowd of dancers. Black pants, light shirt… Hair pulled back… eyes glittering more brilliantly than any VVS diamond…

It didn’t take him long to find you, smiling, laughing among your fellow dancers. Glancing down at the watch on his wrist, he started off in your direction, only to be stopped by the sudden paranoia of someone watching. However, this time, the paranoia wasn’t of someone watching him. Rather, it was of someone watching you.

You were truly ravishing, easy on the eyes in every scenario. It would have been hard for anyone to keep from looking at you, Taeyong knew that was a given… But this time didn’t feel quite right. Turning again to examine the rest of the stage inhabitants, his lips hardened into a frown when he found the culprit.

Every couple seconds, Jung Jaehyun would casually cast a glance in your direction, eyes hungrily devouring your every move.

The fourth time… you were swaying dangerously in the darkened space of the club after having finished the last tour of the season, hair falling down your back in wondrous tresses, eyes hooded as you signaled for Taeyong to join you.

Sweaty bodies, the strange, mixed aroma of perfume and cologne, the sensation of alcohol hanging heavily in the air… The darkened environment of the crowded room made the bass boosted music seem infinitely louder than it actually was. Another club.

But what could you do, mused Taeyong while twirling a glass he suspected was not actually his. He really had no other choice when it came to what the rest of his legal members wanted to do. They wanted to go clubbing. His eyes swung lazily over the room, doing a headcount for the fifth time that hour.

Johnny… Yuta… Taeil… Doyoung… __… Wait. __?

Straightening in his seat immediately, Taeyong traced every corner of the room in an attempt to find you. He had seen you. That was for sure. He scoured the crowd at least three times before his darkening eye fell over you once again. Immediately, the foreign feeling of butterflies in his stomach picked up again. A blush began to dust itself over his otherwise pale cheeks.

At once, all the oxygen escaped his lungs. He had seen you dance before, but seeing you in at atmosphere like this had all coherent thoughts and phrases dissipating from Taeyong’s brain like lifting mist until the only thing on his mind was how alluring you looked.

Suddenly, as if you had felt the weight of his gaze splaying across your scantily covered body from across the room, you turned. Whether it was your dancing or your bold wink, Taeyong found himself drunk on something other than alcohol… You.

A smirk wound its way onto your lips while you ran a hand suggestively through your hair, eyes still on his. He closed his lips, moistening them nervously with the tip of his tongue. What were you doing to him? As if all that you had done already wasn’t torture enough, you lifted your hand, signaling for him to join you on the dance floor.

Swallowing nervously, trying in vain to calm the excessive beating of his heart, Taeyong found himself traveling across the floor towards you as if in a trance. And as the two of you danced, with you pressed up against him, he also found that he, in fact, had fallen for you long before this and that love at first sight might just be possible.

“Listen kid,” the cashier’s gruff voice split through Taeyong’s unpleasant reverie and said male’s attention was brought back down to the younger kid standing in front of him. “I’m really sorry. I know you wanna buy these nice dance shoes for your mum, but… the price tag is asking for thirty at the very least. Twelve dollars and thirty-nine cents ain’t gonna work.”

Taeyong’s curiosity piqued and he craned his neck to take a good look at the boy. He couldn’t have been more than nine years old, seven at the least, but Taeyong’s dark eyes widened as he took in the strangely familiar features. The younger kid’s eyes were intense and doe shaped, just like Taeyong’s. His eyebrows were dense and bold, drawn upward in desperation just like Taeyong’s. His lips were pulled into a pout that triggered a memory of your pouting lips.

“But sir!” the boy’s high voice begged. “You don’t understand, I need these shoes.”

The cashier’s mouth parted to refute his request, but the boy continued.

“Sir, I wanna buy these shoes for my mom! Please!” His voice cracked, damn near the verge of tears. “It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes… They’re just her size.”

The fifth time he saw you, you were blinking blearily up at him from underneath the thin duvet on his bed, hair mussed from the night before, smile tossed crazily in his direction… until you realized you weren't in your home and that you didn't have a hot boyfriend named Lee Taeyong. Taeyong could still recall the knotted string of apologies falling from your lips in the early morning when you jumped from the bed - still in his shirt - grabbed your underwear, and bolted out of the room.

The sixth time he saw you was when you were dancing late in the same practice room you could always be found in late at night. Sweat was dripping from your face and your breathing was ragged from the long period you had been dancing…

Dancing was your punching bag, your stress reliever. Everything about it helped keep your mind off small mistakes you had made in your everyday life… Like the fact you had just slept with an idol you had admired for a long time and had probably just ruined every chance of having a professional work relationship with him.

Lee Taeyong was handsome, skilled, well rounded and polite… however every time you saw him now, after that night, you were needlessly reminded of how badly you had messed up. What had you been thinking that night? You hadn’t even had that much to drink that night and yet you found your head spinning pleasantly upon meeting his hungry gaze.

The feeling of his up against you, his deft fingers creeping down to rest around your waist, the fleeting caress of his lips against your heated skin, the dark heat that had pooled in your stomach when he growled against your lips… You shook your head vigorously to rid your mind of his low groans. Jaehyun had been your bias all this time and you were convinced he still was... Yet with all of your encounters with Taeyong and the way you found your heart racing every time your thoughts found their way to him, you weren’t a hundred percent sure of anything anymore.

And that was the reason you were now avoiding him at all costs…

And also the reason you choked on your air and fell upon seeing him leaned so casually against the entrance of the practice room. Within seconds of you landing on the floor, he was right there, worry furrowing his brows.

“__, are you okay?”

Up at this close of a proximity, you could see every detail of his attractive features in high definition. The curve of his lips, the concern in his eyes, the faint flush on his cheeks… without fail, your heart pounded loudly in your chest and you were unnecessarily reminded vividly of how soft his lips had felt against yours.

“Y-yeah. I'm fine.” The words came out of your lips unsteadily, immediately alerting him to your uneasiness. “T-thanks. I’ll just- I...I’ll just go now-”

Pushing yourself up and away from him, you made as if to rush out of the room, cheeks flushed an angry red.

“No.” Taeyong’s voice sounded, loud and demanding, contrary to the gentle, soft approach he used more often. A firm hand wrapped itself around your wrist and you looked up in surprise.

“... No?”

“I mean,” he looked away bashfully, voice softening. All at once, the butterflies in your stomach started up again. If Jaehyun was your ‘bias’, why were you even feeling this way around Taeyong?

“Please stay,” Taeyong continued. “I know I fucked up. I didn’t even get to take you on a date before all that happened and I’m so sorry about that, but I…” He paused to cough nervously into his hand. “Um.. Well, I'm not good with expressing myself but I really.. I really like you and I understand if you don't feel the same way, but I thought you should know.”

The seventh time he saw you was similar to the fifth, only it was early evening, the moon glanced off your skin in the most captivating of ways, and this time.. You weren't running away.

“I dunno kid…” Letting out a deep sigh, the cashier rubbed his temples wearily. “You’re still fifteen dollars short. Why do you need them this badly anyways?”

Without a hint of hesitance, the little boy blurted out the most honest thing Taeyong had heard in awhile.

“Look, I know I’m dirty, I know I don’t have the exact amount, I know you probably don’t want to put up with this right now… but please… my mom.” A sniffle sounded loudly in the silent store and he shook the tears from his eyes. “She’s been sick for quite a while, and I know these shoes will make her smile… I want her to look beautiful if Mama meets Jesus tonight.”

Taeyong’s mouth dropped open. This boy was putting his dignity and wealth on the line for his mother. Finally, out of his pocket, the kid fished out a couple more bills.

“Is this… Is this enough?”

Helplessly, the cashier shot Taeyong a look and the little boy turned to look directly at him. All at once, Taeyong’s heart broke all over again. The kid’s eyes were swollen and red from crying and dried and fresh tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Mama… she made Christmas special at our house even though most of the time, she just went without.”

It was like looking at you all over again. It reminded Taeyong of that last night with you, staring at you at your worst… broken, hurt, angry, confused with tears pouring down your cheeks are he gazed at you through his. Sniffling, the little boy continued.

“Tell me sir, what am I going to do?! My mom… she’s so sick and my dad. He’s given up, he told me she’s not going to live through the night and-and I’ve seen her look at these shoes every time we come to this store, I wanna.. She-” at that, his fragile voice cracked with emotion. His shoulders hunched over as he fought back the sobs, desperate to stay strong.

Taeyong gazed on at the younger boy, the one that hopelessly reminded him of you. He was torn. That little boy… he wasn’t you. You were probably off somewhere else, enjoying a dinner with Jaehyun and your kids. However, the shaken words that fell from the boy’s lips found a way directly to Taeyong’s broken heart.

“Please sir…” The boy’s voice sounded infinitely smaller than it had before. “Somehow, I’ve got to buy her these Christmas shoes..”

The eighth time however, was not as happy.

It should have been though.

It was the annual SM Christmas Party and Taeyong moved easily through the crowds, blessing everyone with a perfectly content smile. That was until Taeyong saw you and Jaehyun, laughing… smiling… which, in any other case would be fine. But in this one, with the way Jung Jaehyun was looking at you, undressing you with his eyes, with the way his fingers brushed against your arm ever so slightly...

Bracing himself against a nearby wall, Taeyong took a deep breath. He was just… overthinking. Inclining his head towards the ceiling, he took a deep breath and tried in vain to focus on something other than the fact you were with Jaehyun, grinning cheesily at every little thing he said while standing under the mistletoe-

Wait. Fuck. Mistletoe?

“What the fuck, Taeyong?” You spoke, struggling against the vise-like grip said male had around your wrist. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

“Nothing.” He bit out, venom dripping from each syllable as the two of you wove in and out of the crowd. Though you hadn’t known him for that long, you didn’t think you had ever seen someone so mad. Flames burned behind Taeyong’s usually calm, clear eyes and you recalled the dumbfounded look on Jaehyun’s face a couple seconds prior.

“For some reason, I don’t believe you, Lee Taeyong,” you tsk-ed, letting him guide you to a less active area. “And part of me thinks it has to do with you being jealous.”

All of a sudden, the tense male in front of you froze. He had seen that subtle hand on your arm, the way Jaehyun was looking at you… You snickered to yourself over the fact this grown man was jealous over you and you watched, curious, as he turned around… only to push you up against the wall behind you. Eyes wide, you shivered as he traced a light finger down your jaw.

“Jealous? Jealous? Of fucking course I’m jealous.” The growl in his low voice made it only the more sexier. “Jung Jaehyun, one of the most attractive male idols at this company holiday party was flirting with you under the mistletoe. Of course I’d get jealous.”

“Okay, you big baby,” you snorted, rolling your eyes at his unreasonable childish behavior. “I get it, someone’s needy and wants my attention, but like we should really establish some norms. Like just because I’m talking -talking, mind you- to another guy, does not mean I’m interested in them-”

“It’s not that, __,” Taeyong interrupted you, grabbing your chin roughly and directing your attention right at him. “You’re mine. And no other guy is allowed to look at you lik-”

“Hold on just a fucking second, Lee Taeyong,” you hissed, surprised by his exclamation and fed up with his unnecessary possessiveness. His eyes widened at your outburst, obviously taken aback. “Who do you think you are? Manhandling me, ordering me around and threatening to fuck up every single guy that does something as simple as look at me. Hell, Jaehyun and I were just talking and now you’re going around, acting like you own me. We were just. Talking.

“As far as I was know, even if we were a thing, you are not going to treat me like a belonging or act all possessive like a dumb kindergartner would be over a stupid toy. I am not a thing of yours that you can claim as your own. Good night.”

Throwing off his hand, you pushed past him, ignoring the hurt look of complete shock written all over his face.

“__, wait-” Taeyong started reaching out to grab your wrist for the second time that night.

“No, Taeyong. Don’t talk to me,” you mumbled underneath your voice, disappointment laced in every word. “I refuse to be in a relationship with a man that won’t trust me.”

And with that, you stalked away, dismayed at how much your heart hurt.

The ninth time he saw you, you weren’t alone like he was hoping.

As a romantic, Taeyong realized what he had done wrong. You weren’t his. You were merely someone he loved enough to be afraid to lose. And as someone he cared that deeply about, he had the whole night planned out. That was, of course, if you accepted his apology.

Smiling giddily to himself, he fiddled with the bouquet and handwritten apology for a second longer before taking a deep breath in. Opening, the door, he began to walk towards the practice room he knew you would be in. He had just finished up in his studio, brain filled to the brim with lyrics and the rhythm of a heartfelt song yet to be released.

But when he turned down the familiar hall to the practice room he was certain you’d be in, an unexpected sound reached his ears. A deep voice that sounded an awful lot like… Jaehyun’s rang out in a deep baritone laugh in response to your clear, breathy one.

“Shh… Oh my gawd, Jaehyun you idiot! You’re so loud.”

“Look who’s talkin’, __. You’re the one yelling at me.”

All at once, Taeyong froze. No… Not now. Not on Christmas. As if his body had a mind of its own, he subconsciously crept closer to the door, deathly afraid of what he would see. Your breathy giggle sounded again.

Blinking back tears, he peered through the crack in the door.

Fuck. There you were, beautiful as ever, smiling that same radiant smile… pressed up against Jaehyun’s firm body as his arms lay loose around your waist. A pathetic sob built in the back of Taeyong’s throat when you reached up to press a gentle kiss to Jaehyun’s love drunk smile.

Crushed, Taeyong stumbled back soundlessly until his back smacked against a wall. Then, the tears began to fall, blinding him.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

A broken Taeyong left the building in a daze that night. In his hands were a bouquet of torn flowers, a shredded apology and a crushed heart.

No longer could he be around Jaehyun without thinking of the two of you. It was ridiculous, and he knew it… He had trained with this dude for years. But soon enough, Taeyong found himself signing a contract with a different agency in an effort to get awake from the inevitable heartbreak he had been through.

And at once, gone were the physical apparitions of you and Jaehyun, loving, smiling, laughing. Only then entered the haunting of his dreams by you and you only.

“Please sir…” The boy’s voice sounded infinitely smaller than it had before. “Somehow, I’ve got to buy her these Christmas shoes..”

All at once, an exhausted exhale fell from Taeyong’s mouth. What would you have done in this situation? Grabbing a twenty from his wallet, Taeyong pressed it down onto the pile of scattered coins and crumpled bills.

The kid’s teary eyes widened as the cashier rang the shoes up. A smile grew on Taeyong’s lips when a thankful smile traced itself onto the boy’s face.

“T-thank you so much, sir!” Grabbing the shoes, the younger male wrapped his lanky arms around Taeyong’s waist. Then, as an afterthought, the boy added, “Momma’s going to look so great.”

Just like that, the kid was gone. All that was left was the ghostly feeling of his thin arms around Taeyong’s waist and the mental image etched into his brain of how much he looked like you.

“Hey man,” once again, the cashier’s gruff voice blew away any thought of you. Shaking the fog from his brain, Taeyong redirected his attention to the man in front of him.

“You gonna buy anything else?”

The tenth and last time he saw you, Taeyong thought, was the most painful. It had been eleven years since he had last seen any trace of you or anything somehow related to you.

Or.. so he thought.

Taeyong felt his shattered heart fly out the window. Suddenly, he understood what had pulled him into that graveyard. Memories of you, you laughing, you dancing, you beneath him, you smiling, you crying… All of them shot back at him, hitting him in the dead center of his heart. The weathered gravestone in front of him was an elegant marble and did not fail to remind Taeyong of every single thing about you, but that wasn’t the object that tore the previously unshed tears from his eyes.

He crumpled to his knees, sobbing.

Beneath your name and birth and passing date lay a pair of shoes. A familiar pair of shoes. The same brilliantly simple shoes the boy in the store had bought - with Taeyong’s help - for his terminally ill mother.

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lonelypond · 7 years

Text

Healing Hearts

Love Live/Little Witch Academia Crossover AU (yes, I did The Thing™), NicoMaki, DianAkko, 5K, 1/2

Yazawa Nico is having a Nico day as The Number One News Icon in the Universe™, when an unexpected encounter forces her to confront the fact that's she been drifting apart from long time girlfriend and doctor in training Nishikino Maki.

Alt summary: Diana Cavendish's first visit to Tokyo with Akko Kagari goes nothing like they'd planned.

Healing Hearts

Yazawa Nico was meeting her camerawoman for a location shoot near Harajuka. Even with the humidity in the air, Nico’s hair and makeup were on point. After all, The Number One News Icon in the Universe™ had an audience that expected both expertise and Ultimate Cuteness.™ Nico also had a very busy student doctor in training Hot Smart Sexy Talented Girlfriend™ who Nico didn’t see nearly enough, but who enjoyed watching Nico’s segment every night. Nico was hurrying from the train to the park, always professional and ahead of schedule, her sling bag bouncing out a beat on her hip when she saw the tendrils of frosty light zipping down the street, curling into a ball and pinballing into the darkest part of the park. Then she heard the scream. Nico took off at a run, thankful she’d worn practical footwear due to the outdoor shoot. She and Maki had been text quarreling about sensible shoe choices for weeks now.

There wasn’t much wind and with the sudden dimming of every artificial light, the gingko trees loomed much closer than Nico expected. There was a small clearing, and one girl, platinum blonde hair glowing in the illumination from the magic streaming out of her wand, mottled gray cloak billowing around her, stood over a body, crumpled to the ground and dressed in a matched cloak. Approaching them was a formerly friendly cafe robot, all curves and kindness, now with an ominous red glow leaking from every joint and seal, hovering above the ground.

Nico sighed, planted her feet, visualized her way through the focusing technique Hanayo had taught her, and started to sing. She could feel the power rising from her abdomen, up through her throat and she pushed the energy forward as the notes loosed, a pink cloud surrounding the robot. Nico concentrated on finding weak points, focusing her attention on those. The blonde girl spun, wand out, then refocused her own energy, doubling the attack. With a barely audible crackle of electricity, the robot dropped to the ground, inert.

“Akko!” The blonde immediately fell to her knees, frantically examining the person at her feet. Nico saw a wedding ring glint as the streetlights came back.

“Are you all right?” Nico asked, keeping alert for movement in the trees.

“No. Akko needs a doctor. And I don’t know Tokyo.” Nico was surprised by the flawless Japanese being spoken by a very Western looking witch.

“Right.” Nico sighed. “I know a doctor, kind of...but I have to do a quick video shoot. Is Akko stable?”

The blonde nodded as she pulled the other girl into an embrace.

“Can you wait here? Is it safe?” Nico was going to have to yell at Hanayo for not warning her about bewitched robots. “My name’s Yazawa Nico and I promise we’ll get her some help soon.”

“Diane Cavendish. I can cast an obscuring spell until you return.” Diana picked up her wand. “And thank you.”

Nico took off at a run. So much for perfect hair and makeup. She hoped Kaede could cover for what would be Nico showing up five minutes late and messy. But there were always angles to adjust and Kaede owed Nico several favors. Plus, she was addicted to Nico’s curries.

Nishikino Maki needed a break. Too many meetings. The business of running a hospital involved too many other people. And too much paperwork. Eli would be in her element, Maki thought. She looked at her watch, 5 minutes ‘til Nico. Time to find the nearest unused television. Nico was out on location; Maki wondered if she’d put on the towering heels she’d threatened to via text. Maki liked Nico Nico sized. And she was tired of having a mostly text based relationship with Nico. Maki regretted not discussing moving in together when Nico got her latest job and a new apartment. It had been almost a year and they were down to weekend dates and Wednesday breakfasts, on good weeks. It wasn’t enough. School was busy, helping Croix Meridies with secret medicinal magic research was busy, being a Nishikino was busy, but being Nico’s girlfriend was where Maki really wanted to excel and they managed to keep missing each other and avoid discussing how they really felt. Which really wasn’t a surprise, Maki acknowledged. Neither of them were particularly open, but the tension and high stakes of their Love Live experience had forced openness on them, when they realized the spark growing between them was too dangerous to ignore. Communication had saved them once, maybe it was time to make that effort again. Her father would understand. He’d been trying to nudge Maki into conversations about work-life balance for months now and always asked after Nico.

Maki bit her lip. 5 minutes gone. No time for a TV now. She stepped into the closest room, empty, and pulled out her phone and swiped to the TV station’s app. Nico! Disheveled. Nico never had a hair out of place. But there she was, askew. Maki frowned, zooming in for a closer look, seeing the tension in Nico’s posture. They might not currently be spending much time together, but Maki knew what every Nico twitch meant, even at a distance.

The spot finished, Nico with an excessively cheerful “Good night and remember, Nico Ni brings you news that makes you smile. Nico Nico Ni.”

Maki was going to Nico’s tonight. No matter what Nico said. And as she swiped to message that to Nico, a text came in:

N: Meet me at Yoyogi Koen, as soon as you can.

M: Why? What’s wrong, Nico-chan? You looked awful.

N: Good to know you’re still a smooth talker, Maki-chan (･ω<)☆ Just meet Nico. Bring your doctor stuff…and a car.

M: Nico-chan, what’s going on?

N: Oh, it’s not for Nico. Don’t worry. I wore the boring shoes ( p_q) I love you, Maki-chan (⺣◡⺣)♡

M: Half an hour. I love you too, Nico-chan ♡

20 minutes. Maki hadn’t even bothered to tell anyone she was leaving. She’d texted her father on the way to the park, telling him Nico had an emergency. The car slowed down and Maki had the door open before the driver pulled to a stop.

“Wait here.” She ordered, taking off at at the fastest pace she could manage while still searching for Nico who’d only given her basic directions, ending with, “Nico will see you, Maki-chan. You’re not a ninja.”

Nico’s voice. Maki oriented on that. Nico sounded cheery.

“Calm down, Diana. Maki is the smartest person Nico knows. She’ll figure things out.”

Diana? Maki decided shouting was the only choice at this point, “NICO-CHAN!” She didn’t care if her voice cracked, reverberated through a sleepy downtown, woke everyone or sounded of desperation. She needed to see Nico now.

A cloaked woman with stunning, green streaked blonde hair and a regal attitude, stepped out from behind a tree...something held in her hand, pointed straight at Maki. Maki stopped, hands open in front of her.

“Maki-chan!” Nico stepped into view, putting out a hand to lower the other woman’s arm. Was this Diana? Why was she here with Nico. Why was Nico touching her? Why had Maki really been spending so much time at the hospital? Maki walked right up to Nico, hand on Nico’s waist pulling her to the side, glaring at the other woman.

“What’s going on, Nico-chan? Who is this?” Maki snipped.

Nico was about to say something, then took a good look at Maki’s face. “Really, Maki-chan. Jealous?” Nico chuckled, “Nico barely has time to see Nico.”

Nico took the other woman’s left hand and showed it to Maki. A gold band glinted, “This is Diana. Her wife is unconscious and Diana, the just married 18 year old kid lost in a foreign country, is completely freaking out.”

Diana pulled her hand away from Nico’s, voice shrill, “I’m not a kid!”

Nico shook her head and put both her hands around Maki’s waist, pulling the still frowning redhead closer, “Hey, let’s help Akko and get these ‘kids’” Nico smiled sweetly over her shoulder in Diana’s direction, “to a safe location and then Nico will explain everything she can.” Nico kissed Maki, her lips warm, “Thanks for coming when Nico called.”

“Of course I will, Nico-chan. Always.” Maki didn’t let Nico get away without another, deeper kiss, audience be damned. Nico was as reluctant to pull away as Maki was. Which put a slightly smug spring in Maki’s step as she followed her lover. Whatever this was about, Maki was texting her father that she needed some time with Nico. Because while Maki didn’t know how much Nico hadn’t told her, there was obviously chunks of recent experience Nico had left out.

A brown haired girl had been sandwiched between a cloak and Nico’s coat. Maki knelt down next to her, taking her pulse, examining her pupils.

“What happened?” Maki asked, suddenly efficient.

Diana scuffed the ground, looking like a guilty teenager, “She fell off my broom.”

Maki turned to stare, still kneeling, “Broom?!?”

Diana started to say something but Nico ran over her, “Flying broom, magic, witches, these two saved their part of the world, you missed it when you were having a melt down over possible medical school specialties and Nico forgot to tell you about it…” Nico left off the ‘because Nico was learning how magic worked and thought you’d be really really annoying about it.”

Maki and Diana were both staring at Nico now, Maki in shock about how she’d not told Nico about working with Croix for fear Nico couldn’t keep a secret and here Nico was, keeping secrets, then Diana spoke, “You know who we are.”

Nico grinned and did a two step that ended with her trademark gesture, “Nico knows everything, Nico Nico Ni.”

“Really, Nico-chan?” Maki’s voice was a stern echo in the silence after the chirp of Nico’s cheer died.

“Fix the girl, Maki-chan. Nico will talk later.” Nico fidgeted.

“Nico-chan.” Now that was a familiar tone, Maki thought to herself, the exasperated worry that colored her voice when Nico was trying to sneak something by her. And yes, Maki already knew about magic, but she hadn’t told Nico that. Which was another too familiar feeling. Did they only ever talk about the height of Nico’s shoes anymore?

“Is Akko going to be all right?” Diana’s voice trembled, bringing Maki back to the immediate problem, the girl in front of her. How would Maki be feeling if Nico was laying there?

Maki smiled at Diana. “Don’t worry. I’ve spent a lot of hours in the Emergency Room, diagnosing trauma. If anything’s wrong, we’ll find out.”

Diana paled, Nico grumbled “Maki-chan!” than put an arm around Diana’s shoulders, “Maki’s bedside manner isn’t the best, but she is, Nico promises.”

Maki really needed to get the girl conscious and talking, if possible. And somewhere better lit. “Did she hit her head?”

“I don’t think so. We were nearly on the ground when the blast hit us. From behind so I couldn’t evade it.” Diana kept rerunning the scene in her mind, Akko’s hands suddenly releasing their grip, the rush of panic. Should she have paid more attention to her surroundings?

“Nico-chan?” Maki sounded hesitant now.

“Yes?”

“Can you go to the car and get the collapsible back board out of the trunk? I’ll text Papa to have a gurney meet us.”

“She didn’t fall that far.” Diana pointed out, her voice sounded increasingly shrill, twisting her cloak with worry.

“I don’t want to take any chances.” Maki explained, gently.

Exasperated, Diana swept her cloak back, pushed Maki away from Akko and let her wand hover the unconscious girl, whispering as the tip of the wand flared with energy and a glowing cloud surrounded Maki’s patient.

“She might have a broken rib.” Diana whispered.

“How?” Maki sat in the dirt, annoyed at Diana’s forwardness and curious about her actions. Croix had never done a diagnosis without a scanner.

“My family are ancient healers. That spell can’t pinpoint exact damage but it can identify major breaks in energy flow.” Her voice cracked, “If Akko had damaged her…”

Nico interrupted, brusquely enough to bring everyone back to practicalities, “Since we settled that, Maki help Diana get Akko into your car. We can go to my apartment. Did you use the driver, Maki-chan?”

Maki stood, slowly, nodding, brushing the dirt off her hands, “Ok. I’ll take her left side.” Diana nodded and slid an arm under Akko’s right shoulder. “On three.”

Akko had been settled in the spare bedroom, Diana kneeling next to the futon, hands clasped tightly, watching over her wife and looking exhausted. Maki had set up an IV to get fluids in Akko. Nico was in her kitchen throwing together miso soup and omelet rice. Both Nico and Maki realized the most urgent thing right now was convincing Diana Cavendish to eat and rest.

“Nico-chan,” Maki cleared her throat. Nico had brewed a pot of coffee for both of them, first thing, and Maki was fidgeting with her half empty cup with Nico was being her usual blur of activity in the kitchen.

“What’s up, Maki-chan?” Nico continued chopping scallions to scatter in the miso as she assembled it.

“I k...know about magic.” Maki forced herself not to mumble.

“What?” Nico turned.

“I’ve been helping a scientist with combining technology and magic to use in medicine.” Maki smiled, “Her name is Croix Meridies and I didn’t tell you about it bec…”

“Croix?!?!!” Diana’s angry shout preceded her rushing into Nico’s living room, “Croix is in Japan?”

“She approached Nishikino Hospital three months ago.” Maki was puzzled by Diana’s reaction.

“Is she experimenting on people?” Diana lips were narrow, her entire expression furious, eyes throwing sparks of icy fire.

“N...no. I’ve let her scan me a few times. But nobody else.” Maki felt a flip in her stomach as Nico hissed and turned off the stove.

“Maki-chan!” Nico was suddenly running her hands all over Maki as if searching for a wound.

“Nico-chan!?!” Maki pushed her chair back, tingling a little at Nico’s touch, “What are you doing?”

“Can you still sing? Improvise on the piano?” Nico’s questions were staccato accusations as Maki's unease increased. Why was Nico so worried?

There was a silence while Maki just stared at Nico. Diana had reached for her wand but had nothing to draw it against. Then a confused cry came from the bedroom, “Diana?”

“Akko!” Diana sprinted back to the bedroom. Maki tried to rise, but Nico held her down by the shoulders.

“Maki-chan needs to tell Nico what you’ve been letting this woman do to you.”

Maki couldn’t believe how angry Nico sounded. Didn’t Nico trust her judgement? Croix had explained everything, the lilac haired scientist offering Maki full access to all her research materials.

Akko had tried to sit up, but had fallen back on the futon. She was staring at the IV, toying with it a little. Diana watched the line bob and gently blocked Akko’s hand, “Don’t touch it, Akko. You’ll pull it out.”

“Diana! You are here.” Akko hugged Diana enthusiastically, almost succeeding in accidentally getting the IV out. Diana for once was not paying full attention to practicalities and squeezed her wife until Akka yelped in pain. “Ow.”

Diana didn’t let go of Akko, but she did move one hand to brushing the hair out of Akko’s eyes, “I was so worried about you, my heart.”

“What happened?” Akko’s maroon eyes were wide, she couldn’t remember much of the evening.

Diana giggled, Akko's nearness a comfort after all of her fears, “You fell off my broom.”

Akko grinned proudly, kissing Diana on the nose, “Nearly every day. You should be used to it, Cutie.”

Surprised by Akko's surge of energy, Diana couldn't hold her control and began to sob, “Oh, Akko, I was so scared.”

Akko wrapped the non IV’ed arm around Diana and pulled the other girl tight, “I’m all right, Diana. This isn’t one of your nightmares. I’m here. I’m fine. We’re here.”

Maki had stopped in the doorway, Nico at her side. Nico nudged the taller woman, “We’ll finish later.”

Maki nodded, still confused by Diana and Nico’s reaction to her mention of Croix. But she made sure to let none of that color the professional cheeriness she had practiced for so many hours. With Nico’s help. Professional cheeriness was a Nico ace. So was caring. Maki took a moment to glance at Nico who was watching the two girls embrace, her smile pensive. When had Maki last let Nico hold her that close?

Back to professional cheeriness, the flagship tradition of the Nishikino-Yawawa relationship. Maybe honesty would be a better one, Maki realized.

Maki stepped into the room, waving, “Hello, Akko. I’m Nishikino Maki. Nico’s been helping your wife and called me. I’m studying to be a doctor.”

Diana lifted her head from Akko’s shoulder, tears dry, voice fierce, speaking only to Akko, “Croix’s here.”

Akko sighed, pressing her forehead against Diana's, “But you were going to meet my parents finally.”

Nico chuckled, “Kid sounds ok, I’ll get their food.”

Diana was a worried lump on the end of Nico’s couch, clad in smartly tailored, blue striped pajamas, a throw wrapped around her shoulders. Maki had chosen the chair and Nico had, surprisingly, chosen to curl up on Maki, one arm around Maki’s waist and her head resting on Maki’s shoulder.

“Exhaustion, dehydration and an ear infection are the biggest problems Akko has, Diana. The rib is probably only bruised. She should feel much better in the morning.” Maki felt strange using the distant and despondent blonde’s first name, on such short acquaintance, but Nico had, as always, led the way there. So Nico and Maki, Diana and Akko it was. Akko had fallen asleep, snores could be heard and it had taken all of Nico’s big sister skills to pry Diana away for a shower and a cup of tea.

Diana nodded, sipping her tea, “I can use a healing spell then, as well. It would have been impossible to safeguard her while casting in the open.”

“But that’s ok, the Number One Reporter in The Universe, found you. And now, we’re ALL going to fix things. Nico Nico Ni” Nico raised one hand in her signature gesture, winking at Maki.

Maki shook her head at Nico. Diana closed her eyes as she did the same, “Akko was too out of it to process who you are, I think, but she’s a very big fan of yours, Nico. She watches your broadcasts whenever she misses Japan.”

“Everyone who knows anything watches Nico, it’s good for their mental health.” Maki was always impressed by how Nico could mix egotistical bragging with genuine concern. Nico was cocky for the good of everyone. “Even my Talented but Too Busy Girlfriend™ here makes time to.”

The Talented but Too Busy Girlfriend™ found herself thinking that she should make more time to take Nico in her arms as she leaned into Nico’s hair, enjoying the lavender scent.

Diana glanced away, fingers white around her cup, and Nico kissed Maki’s cheek apologetically and bounced over to the couch.

“So, Dr. In Training Nishikino, tell us why you are helping the twisted Croix Meridies achieve her next scheme?” Nico leaned forward, her interviewing mode suddenly activated.

“I...I um…” Maki stuttered, once again thrown off by the quicksilver Yazawa Nico, whose usually merry eyes were narrowed and suspicious, Maki took a calming breath. "T...the hospital's always getting research proposals. Papa's letting me deal with some. Croix told me she wanted to help people, that she had a theory negative energy pooling was responsible for some conditions. She called them magical tumors that needed to be lanced.”

Diana growled. Nico’s professional demeanor slipped and fear trembled in her voice, “You said you let her scan you. Are you sick, Maki-chan?”

Nico was back again, off the couch, with the searching hands. Maki had a vague memory of Nico’s hands caressing her in the darkness, her lover’s lips audacious, the want cracking through Nico’s now trained and polished voice some weekend recently but Maki had lost track of exactly how many weekends ago. Maki took Nico’s hands in hers, “I’m fine, Nico-chan. Don’t worry.”

Nico hung her head, “You don’t tell Nico much anymore.”

“No, I don’t.” Maki could feel the tears start, “I’m so sorry, Nico-chan.”

Diana coughed. Maki sighed.

“What is Croix planning?” Diana snapped, impatient, politeness gone from her voice. The blue eyes were once again fierce with icy fire and Diana had also risen from the couch, reached for a wand she didn’t have on her, and was now just vibrating with anger in Nico's living room in pajamas more expensive than the contents of Nico’s living room. Nico bit back a giggle. Maki tried to remember exactly what Croix had told her. Diana exploded at the delay, nose to nose with Maki, ‘You are aware that she created a spell that steals magic, and then created ANOTHER that steals emotions which nearly blew up half the world, aren’t you, not quite a doctor Nishikino?”

“Hey.” Nico forced herself between the two, Diana even taller than Maki. “Back off, Diana. Maki-chan would NEVER hurt anyone. We are helping you.”

“Not if she’s helping Croix.” Diana crossed her arms, glaring at Maki.

“Maki didn’t hurt Akko.” Nico’s voice was gathering threatening notes, “And I want to know what this Croix is doing to Maki more than you do. So let’s ask Maki calmly.”

Diana and Nico stared at each other for so long that Maki wondered if there was some magic to freeze time in effect. Nico was standing close enough to Maki that they were touching and Maki pressed up against her back, comforted by Nico's defense. Diana’s glance flitted up to meet Maki’s eyes and then back to Nico. Nico smiled, “I promise you, Diana, Maki-chan didn’t help this person hurt anyone.”

Maki really hoped Nico was right.

Diana had interrogated Maki for an hour, with a few odd questions from Nico. Then, the obviously exhausted traveler joined her wife to attempt sleep. Maki didn’t see how it would be a problem for the young witch, anger had been the only thing keeping her eyes open when Nico shoved her into the spare bedroom.

Which left Maki in the chair and Nico settling on the far end of the couch where Diana had sat, shuffling through a stack of glossy fashion magazines. Maki had texted her father that an emergency had come up and she would be spending time in the lab and with Nico. Nico and Diana had agreed that she should keep to her normal schedule of interactions with Croix, to stop the scientist from suspecting anything. Diana had been reluctant, wanting to confront Croix immediately, but agreed that surprise would give them an advantage.

“Cute kids.” Nico muttered, not looking up as she scanned pages.

Maki watched Nico read, noticed her nose scrunch up when she almost liked something but..., her lips purse when she saw an outfit she’d look great in, her chest rise with a sigh when nothing had interested her for a dozen pages or so. There it was. Fashion had failed Nico; so had Maki.

“I...I’m sorry, Nico-chan.” Maki broke the silence, not surprised to find herself twirling a twist of hair. She hadn’t done that in a...well, honestly, probably a week.

Nico closed the magazine and pushed the stack aside. She patted the couch next to her and Maki joined her, feeling a bit like a summoned cat. Nico started to sing, her voice soft, like a lullaby. It was a tune Maki hadn’t heard before and the air around Nico shimmered. Maki swore that flowers petals started floating between them, purple and golden and white. Maki leaned forward, fingers reaching toward the sparkle, but they passed through the petals like wind, stretching and tearing them, leaving colorful debris drifting in new directions.

“I can do magic.” Nico took Maki’s reaching hand, pressing her lips against the palm.

“How?” Maki eyes were as wide as Nico had ever seen them.

“When Akko and Diana did the big save the world thing, Hanayo and I started diving into the world of witches; Hanayo figured out how to hack their version of the internet...we figured witches were kinda like a new type of idol. And Hanayo thought Akko was so cute.” Nico chuckled, “Don’t tell Rin that.”

Maki shook her head. While she knew Hanayo loved Rin fervently, Hanayo also continued to love Idols with an almost equal passion, just not as personally. Rin had never been threatened by it, although she was less fond of A-Rise than anyone else in in μ's, but Nico always tried to keep her Idol talk with Hanayo to times when Rin was elsewhere. And Maki too, although Nico pulled off the professional interest facade much more convincingly than Hanayo.

Nico continued explaining, her eyes crimson, dark and serious, running her hands through her loose black hair, Maki always preferred when Nico let it free, because it meant they were alone and Maki was spending time with her Nico, having a real chance to admire the often hidden charms of the quicksilver, caring, warm, clever, talented, beautiful girl she'd fallen in love with.

“Maki-chan?” Maki had completely blanked on whatever Nico had said and sable eyebrows lowered over suspicious crimson eyes.

“I love you, Nico-chan. I miss you.” Maki just blurted it out, hand raised to Nico’s cheek, stroking the soft skin.

“Nico can do magic now but all Maki cares about is sitting around looking at Nico with those gorgeous lavender eyes and tasty tasty pink lips. Nothing Nico does ever makes it through here…” Nico grumbled, tapping Maki’s forehead.

Maki darted forward quickly, kissing Nico before Nico could finish her second sentence. Nico didn’t pull away and her hands quickly found their way under Maki’s shirt, fingers digging into her back. Nico gently bit Maki’s lower lip and then pulled back slightly, hands now stroking the curves of Maki’s hips, scattering her senses, “Maki isn’t paying enough attention to the problem, Nico will be quizzing you in the morning, on magic.”

“Nico-chan could always do magic.” Maki murmured.

“Exactly!” Nico sounded excited, kissing Maki in a congratulatory manner and blinking proudly.

“What?” Maki grumbled, confused,

“Music is magic, singing, acting.” Nico reluctantly reclaimed one hand, raising it to her temple with the usual flair, “Nico Ni’ing. It’s all magic.”

“Really?” Mood burst, Maki was getting curious, drawn in by Nico’s excitement.

“That’s what Hanayo and I are trying to prove, with the help of one of Akko’s friends. Well, mostly Hanayo and Lotte. Nico tries out spells for them sometimes because Nico is brave.”

Nico was brave enough for three people twice her size. Maki was always amazed at how a sometimes timid Nico could steel herself to charge into situations Maki would have chartered a private jet to avoid.

Maki leaned back against the couch, deciding to sound tired, which came out peevish, “Will there really be a quiz?”

Nico was suddenly straddling Maki’s lap, hands tugging at Maki’s hair, fingers dragging tantalizing trails up Maki’s neck, lips rapidly driving Maki’s nerves into a frenzy with teasing zings all over her face and neck.

“Maki can get extra credit in advance, Nico has decided.”

Maki could hear the smirk. She didn’t care. She swept Nico up in her arms. Maki had always been an excellent student so putting in lots of time to receive extra credit was an old habit. Nico knew that as well as she did.

“Akko?” Diana prodded her wife, who seemed to have slipped out of the deeper stages of sleep into a more restless one. Akko’s flipping from side to side was keeping Diana from getting comfortable, as was the strangeness of the futon.

“Diana?” Akko sounded so adorable when she was half asleep. This is one of the first things Diana had learned during the two months they’d been married. “Didja have a nightmare?” Akko opened her arms, but not her eyes, and pulled Diana closer, her lips kissing Diana’s forehead gently. Diana missed the honest affection she could always find in the depths of Akko’s warm eyes, but she didn’t want to disturb her beloved further.

“Diana?” Akko was more awake, and worried, when she didn’t get a response, “What’s the matter? Are you hungry? Do you want to get up and have a snack? I’m sure Nico wouldn’t mind...hey wait,” Akko sat up, “Nico. Is that Yazawa Nico? The reporter? Oh my god, she’s so nice and pretty in person.” Akko’s voice was getting louder.

“Akko.” Diana’s tone was a warning. Akko’s volume was increasing.

“Oh.” Diana heard Akko swallow nervously, misunderstanding her wife’s concern, “Not as pretty as you, Diana. No one’s as pretty as you, Diana. Plus, that redheaded doctor lady seemed super protective.”

“Yes, as one might be, dating a pretty, popular celebrity.” Diana grinned, having felt this herself as Akko’s fame grew after saving the world from the missile. Right now, Akko was sounding so like herself that the burden on Diana’s heart eased. She wrapped Akko in an embrace and when their lips met, all Diana’s reserves melted as they always did in the presence of Akko’s energy and charm, Diana feeling giddy and light enough to fly without a spell or a broom. Akko’s stomach, being Akko’s stomach, choose that moment to grumble loudly enough that if Nico and Maki had still been on the couch they might have heard it.

“Diana?” Akko’s voice was meek, her head pressing shyly into Diana’s shoulder.

“Yes, my heart?” Diana knew what was coming, but also knew she would never get tired of it.

“Do you think we can get that snack first?”

A/N: Howdy. Have been enjoying the world saving action of Little Witch Academia so this happened. It's always inspiring when cute, talented, hardworking girls kick evil ass together. Wanted to post the first chunk to clear it out of my head. The second chapter may take a bit, as I'm going back to howling so as not to delay the next Casual Lunacy chapter. There is, of course, a playlist

Thanks for reading; hope you enjoy : )

#nicomaki #dianakko #diakko #nico x maki #Love Live #Little Witch Academia #fanfic #lwa #magic #witches #Idols #music #nearly as angsty as my nicomaki gets

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howblunt · 5 years

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1-98 weird asks!

First off: Thank you so much! I’m very excited to answer all of these :)

Second off: Let’s begin

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Coffee Mugs

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

lollipops for sure

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

bubblegum! (though i do love cotton candy)

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

honestly I’m not sure. I’m sure it was something about me being quite and bad at participating

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

(reusable) Plastic cups

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

I love the look of pastel

but I think I dress more preppy ? with a hint of grunge(maybe goth)

7. earbuds or headphones?

I wear earbuds more often but I do prefer headphones

8. movies or tv shows?

MOVIES

9. favorite smell in the summer?

how the pool smells and sunscreen

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

none. P.E. was awful.

Stick to the back and hope the ball doesn’t come at me, that’s how I lived.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Cereal. I am a simple woman

12. name of your favorite playlist?

currently it is my “Jean + Scott angst (and love)” playlist off spotify

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3VAC9t28sIrgO7Y4os5a34

13. lanyard or key ring?

key ring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

anything gummy but more specifically gummy worms

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

Wide Sargasso Sea

If you like Gothic novels with some unrequited love and desire… hit this book up. Look up the plot of Jane Erye first.. it’s like a prequel. Btw I hated Jane Erye. But love Wide Sargasso Sea. Lots of symbolism and even witch craft

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Legs stretched out, both on the ground

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

My black tennis shoes. Very comfortable

18. ideal weather?

Fall weather. Wind and sunshine

19. sleeping position?

Usually on my right side. But I wake up on my back

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Laptop

21. obsession from childhood?

Barbie dolls! and my little pony+ littlest pet shop

22. role model?

This is a hard one because I don’t really have anyone. But I guess Dan Aykroyd (my senior quote is from him)

23. strange habits?

biting the inside of my mouth, fidgeting + folding up papers that are given to me (like in mass), and chewing my straws

24. favorite crystal?

Rose quartz and orange Calcite

25. first song you remember hearing?

Here Comes the Sun

My mom used to sing it in the morning to wake up my sister and me

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Swim

Or walk/ride my bike to the library

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

curl up in a blanket and stay inside

28. five songs to describe you?

(In no order)

Not Today by Twenty One Pilots

Wow, I’m Not Crazy by AJR

xanny by Billie Eilish

I’m In Love With My Car by Queen

Why Do You Feel So Down by Declan McKenna

29. best way to bond with you?

Going shopping (clothes or other). This way we can chat and also have something to do

30. places that you find sacred?

The library and church

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

idk full outfit but my black pleated skirt makes me feel good

32. top five favorite vines?

In no order

*girl vapes* wow

I smell like beef

Lets’s tell each other secrets. I’ll go first, I hate you.

Chris is that a weed?!

This is how I enter my house. What’s up fuckers?!

33. most used phrase in your phone?

omg

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

that one for the shampoo made for curly hair. and it goes “That’s curl power”

35. average time you fall asleep?

11 or 12 during the week. 1 or 2 for weekends

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Rage comics. idk which specifically. But i used to run a rage comic meme account. I was pretty popular ;)

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

suitcase

38. lemonade or tea?

lemonade (though i do LOVE tea)

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cakes

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

omg so. There was this girl who told on this other girl for cheating on a test. Then like the whole grade just ganged up on this other girl and started calling her “the snitch” because the cheater’s friend group started saying “snitches get stitches” (lol even tho i went to an all girls, majority white + prissy + upper class, catholic school but go off) that went on for too long.

at some party they started to chant “snitches get stitches”

the girl who started the chant then got suspended

41. last person you texted?

my ex. (it was a good breakup)

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

jacket pockets

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

hoodie

44. favorite scent for soap?

strawberry

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

sci-fi (lmao x-men is under sci-fi at the library. so it counts)

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

XL t-shirt from giving blood and some very loose pajama shorts

47. favorite type of cheese?

American

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Mango (I eat enough to turn into one)

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

“Comparison will kill you”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

OMG so there was this big spider web. And me and a friend thought it would be funny to call another friend over. And then be like “’lol u just walked passed a huge spider”–we didn’t think she would walk into it or near it because it was right by the edge of a lake we were by. So we call her over and this girl starts sprinting over toward us and RIGHT toward the spider web, and she had this big smile. And my friend and I yelled at her to stop. And when we were laughing saying she was about to run into a spider web and showed her the big spider, she began to freak out (maybe even cry).

She was okay after the shock and fear wore off.

I literally have tears in my eyes from typing this

51. current stresses?

My friend moving away really far

Starting school

making new friends

52. favorite font?

I honestly don’t have one

53. what is the current state of your hands?

kinda dry

54. what did you learn from your first job?

That I really love kids

55. favorite fairy tale?

Little Red Riding Hood and Rapunzel

56. favorite tradition?

Every one of my family’s Christmas traditions

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

My self doubt

sharing my art + writing

My self confidence + learning my worth

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I can play the piano

I can draw and paint

I can embroider and sew (not well but I have fun)

I can write pretty creative stories

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“Oh gosh, now what?”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Magical Girl Anime

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

Darjeeling Limited directed by Wes Anderson: “What’s wrong with you?” / “Let me think about that. I’ll tell you the next time I see you.” / “Sure, tell me then.” / “Thanks for using me.” / “You’re Welcome.”

62. seven characters you relate to?

Will from Stranger Things (with the whole not wanting to give up “childish things” and other stuff his friends are growing out of)

David Wong from John Dies at the End (with how he handles the situation and thinks)

Molly from Booksmart (not the going to a great college or being super smart + looking down on people part. But wanting to go to a party and flirt with cute boys)

Erin from Derry Girls (Tbh, I relate to all the main girls in this show)

Eric from That 70s Show (sometimes)

A mix between Ben and Andy from Parks and Rec

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Good Old Fashion Lover Boy by Queen

Dance, Baby! by Boy Pablo

Hooked On A Feeling by Blue Swede

Fake Happy by Paramore

Sober Up by AJR

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Club Penguin and Webkinz

65. any permanent scars?

On my knees from falling as a child. A small scar under my eye from a dog bite

66. favorite flower(s)?

Roses and Daisies

67. good luck charms?

I wear this necklace a friend gave me when I am nervous

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Green Tea flavored Mochi is kinda nasty to me

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Dan Aykroyd lost his wallet that he always kept chained to his belt. He was freaking out and searching all over while John Belushi was laughing his butt off

70. left or right handed?

right

71. least favorite pattern?

anything with too many circles / holes

72. worst subject?

Anything Science related

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

idk but do NOT try lemonade with Doritos. it taste like throw up

I’ve made this mistake twice

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

it has to be an 7 or so

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

gosh, i’m not sure

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

tator tots

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

this is a question for my sister

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

I regularly buy sushi from a grocery store so that works

the grocery store I go to has a sushi bar and has fresh sushi every day

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

tbh they both looks kinda good.. not to BRAG. but i guess driver’s license

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

fireflies

82. pc or console?

83. writing or drawing?

BOTH BOTH BOTH BOTH BOTH

both

84. podcasts or talk radio?

podcast – no commercials

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie all the WAY! Though I do love me a good polly pocket

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Fair Tales

86. cookies or cupcakes?

though i like making cupcakes more

87. your greatest fear?

Being kidnapped and never being found

88. your greatest wish?

To find my ideal man

89. who would you put before everyone else?

Anyone in my family

90. luckiest mistake?

Thinking a test is sooner so I study. But then ending up having another day to study as well.

91. boxes or bags?

Boxes

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

lamps

(maybe some fairy lights in the background)

93. nicknames?

My real name is Veronica but I go by Ronni

Ron Ron, Gonni, Ronica

94. favorite season?

Fall

95. favorite app on your phone?

music

96. desktop background?

I’m a Kaneki slut (Tokyo Ghoul)

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

two

98. favorite historical era?

style wise: 1800 rococo -- Marie Antoinette period

media wise: 1970s

#ask #anon #thank you again!#howblunt #2019

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stuffandthingstwd · 7 years

Text

I Didn’t Want You To Find Out Like This - Old!Logan

Okay, so I’m writing this Logan [Wolverine] imagine on this blog – even though this is a TWD theme, I was moved by Logan and felt that I needed to write, write, write, old man Logan. So, enjoy! – kind of changing the events up as I don’t want to copy everything from the movie and seen it once so far. * Logan and reader have known each other for over a decade. Reader gets thrown into the mess with both Laura and Logan, revealing something to him she has kept a secret. * PS: S P O I L E R S - S P O I L E R S !!!

A familiar body walked into the hotel lobby in where you worked your dull job that didn’t pay you enough. You looked up from your book as an even more familiar voice spoke your name and dinged the small bell on the desk. “Y/N, it’s been a long time.” you knew who’s voice it was but you were shocked because you haven’t heard it in 10 years. The man who spoke to you pulled down a pair of shades and looked into your eyes. “Logan?” you stuttered out as utter shock caused your brain to pause for a moment. He chuckled slightly and asked you to step out from behind the desk where you were working. “You haven’t changed.” he examined your body, you were a mutant like he was but never revealed to anyone exactly what it was. It caused you to age at a slower pace than an average human would but you also had another mutation that you hid from the world, including Logan “I need to ask you for a favor.” this offended you, the man hasn’t seen you in 10 years and automatically asks you for a favor. You wound your arm back and gave Logan a firm slap to the right side of his face, he took it like it was a small pinch and rubbed the welt slightly. “You’re upset by that, I understand.” you huffed and puffed with anger as you could feel the blood rushing to your face as you wanted to continue to pummel his face but you let yourself cool down as you noticed his appearance.

Logan looked much older, scarred, and tired. He paced around for a moment while he let you cool off and you noticed that he was walking with a limp, this made your heart drop because you knew there was something wrong with him. You sighed loudly, “What is it?” he grabbed your arm and pulled you out from the lobby and outside into the pouring rain. Logan explained that Charles was still alive and he was hiding him from the world as well as those who wanted to get to him. “I need your help. You’re one of the only mutants alive that I know.” he looked deep into your eyes as seriousness oozed from his expression. “Okay..” you reluctantly agreed but you knew he needed your help.

Several months later …

Standing in the kitchen of a cramped building in the middle of the Mexico desert, you scrubbed roughly at dishes that had been stacking up for quite sometime. You were taking your frustration out on the white ceramic plates as your annoyance was because Charles was running low on medication, which was a problem for everyone in the world. Not only the pressures of caring for Charles but Logan was just a distant from you as he was when you met over a decade ago. He was getting more sick and worn out as the months gone by, something was wrong with him but anytime you mentioned it to him he would push you off of it in a crude way. The door swung open causing a large clang pushed you over the edge and when you flipped around to see what caused the loud banging, “Caliban!” but it was Logan who was clearly in the middle of freaking out. “Where’s Caliban? And who the hell is that?!” you pointed the soapy sponge at a small girl that was now sitting at the kitchen table. Charles had accompanied them into the kitchen as he was smiling ear to ear, “Y/N! Y/N! This is the Laura I was talking about.” he stared at her in awe, explaining to you and Logan that they were communicating. This caused Logan to give Charles his medicine quickly but Charles insisted that this Laura was a mutant; this only irritated Logan further. “What’s her gift Charles? Eating? Pipe throwing?” Laura had been stuffing her face since she sat down in the chair, your eyes widened. “Pipe throwing? What?!” you were starting to freak out at the amount of events that were happening in the small amount of time.

Trucks were rolling in over the horizon and Logan cursed under his breath as he ran outside. “Logan!” you yelled out as you ran for Charles but Laura placed a firm hand on your arm and squeezed with a protective grip. 2 men stormed into the building and pointed guns at Charles and yourself, Laura’s power as a mutant proved as adamantium claws protruded from her fists; she lunged at the two men, slicing one of their heads off and fatally stabbing the other’s. “Holy shit..” your jaw dropped open in utter surprise. “I told you.” Charles looked up, happily proving he was correct. You followed after Laura quickly as she threw the head of one of the soldiers towards the crowd that was surrounding Logan, she then showed her claws and proceeded to attack the soldiers like an animal. “God, she almost reminds me of …” Logan grabbed a hold of you and shoved you as well as Charles into the back of the limousine. He floored it through a fence which you gasped loudly, “Oh no! I liked this thing.” Logan gave you an annoyed look as you all sped away in safety. “What about Caliban?” you looked out the shot up back window, worrying about Caliban.

As the four of you stopped at a convince store, you all watched a video on Gabriela’s phone, the woman who took care of Laura. It explained that Laura was made in a lab and was treated as an object, this made you have memories of your childhood but you snapped out of it when Charles dawned a huge reveal to Logan. “She’s your daughter Logan..” you reached out your hand to comfort him but he just swatted it away and took Charles into the bathroom so he could pee.

After surviving Charles’ freak out in the hotel in Oklahoma City where the Reavers and Dennis nearly captured Laura and killed Charles, you were on the road heading towards Eden. Eden was the sanctuary that Gabriela asked Logan to take Laura to, so that she would be safe. The four of you aided in helping a family get their horses back into the trailer that was ran off the road by the self driving semis, which ran the four of you off as well. The invited you into their home and insisted that you all stayed for dinner and the night. “I would say you were a good pupil but the words would choke me.” Charles joked as he and Logan were describing the school for gifted youngsters in an incognito way. “Yeah I’ll second that.” you smiled over to Logan who was laughing along with the rest of you sitting at the table. After dinner Logan took Charles up to bed and went out to aid Will Munson with some troublesome men that caused the family problems. You knocked slightly on Charles’ door, he was speaking to someone and opened it slowly to only see a shadowy figure standing by his bed, “Charles!” you yelled out as the shadow figure stepped into the low light of the lamp next to the bed, stabbing Charles through his chest. “Noooooooo!” you screamed out, tears streaming down your face. The figure was a mutant that bared a similarity to Logan but was nothing but an emotionless weapon. You jumped on top of him, utilizing your mutation to absorb anything you willingly latch yourself onto, sucking onto them like a leech; using some of their power to your ability. You absorbed the weapon’s strength, knocking him into the walls, wrestling him to the ground. The weapon threw you roughly onto the floor, knocking the wind from your lungs for a moment. The weapon grabbed a hold of Laura while slaughtering the Munson’s in it’s path.

You scampered to your feet, charging after the weapon. Still wielding the strength of the weapon you wrestled him down to the ground outside of the house as Logan ran to get Charles. The weapon was taking Laura closer to a van where his creator was at, waiting but an explosion was set off, seemingly killing whoever was near it. Laura freed herself and the two of you started beating down the weapon as Logan who watched Charles die starts charging towards the weapon, his claws at ready. The two of them wrestled, Logan who was weaker than the weapon was holding his own well. “Laura!” you yelled over to her. “Hang on, please.” you grabbed a hold of Laura’s hands and claws, absorbing the adamantium from her body. It coated over your body like a glove, encasing you in the impenetrable metal. The weapon overpowered Logan, sinking it’s claws into his chest as he yelled in agony. You ran and landed a punch into the side of the weapon’s face, sending it flying into a tree. “Y/N?” Logan coughed out as the wound took a toll on his body. He always wondered what your mutation was and was amazed as you were coated in the silvery metal that he shared. The weapon charged again and you blocked his attacks as his claws slid off of your adamantium coating. You kicked him with another swift blow just as you went to attack again, a truck rammed into the weapon and impaled it onto a piece of sharp farming equipment. Out stepped Will who started shooting the weapon with his shotgun until it was empty, then turning to both Logan and yourself, shotgun at ready. You raised your hands in defense as none of you wanted this to happen. But Will fell over, laying dead on the ground as he succumbed to his wounds from the weapon.

You turned to Logan as you were still coated in the adamantium shell, his face with in awe because of what you did to fight for him. “Logan I wanted to tell you before..” you trailed off, looking at his wounds that concerned you because he wasn’t healing. You ran to him and held onto him tightly. You pressed your hand to his chest and attempted to absorb his wound, it was apart of your power. You could absorb wounds but it could backfire if you absorbed too much and would suffer the wounds yourself. He pushed your hand away from him, there was so much sadness in his face. “I know about Charles..But Logan, you have to let me help you.” you raised your hand again but he only pushed it away once more. “Let’s go..” you supported Logan, your absorbed adamantium shell faded as the two of you gathered Charles’ body to give him a proper burial.

#wolverine imagine #logan imagine #logan howlett imagine #x men imagine #logan movie imagine #imagine x men #imagine wolverine #imagine logan #imagine logan howlett #this isnt as good as i hoped #spoilers

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airoasis · 5 years

Text

Fallout 76 Angry Review

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/fallout-76-angry-review-2/

Fallout 76 Angry Review

You fucked it up by means of now you know that this sport sucks I might barely carry myself to play it in order to conclude this evaluate i’ve never in no way obvious this type of piss-bad effort from Bethesda a recreation manufacturer i like in a door you would name me a Bethesda fanboy I make whole game days for his or her releases and no I truly failed to get a review reproduction or a free box set I in reality purchased the 200 greenback collector’s variation with my possess cash long in the past most often for the helmet but I had a small hope that Bethesda would put out the game they promised to us and conceal up so much go the place you want watch do anything you need this is the Golden Age of game make the player proud song language make your self proud that you simply made it make your player proud that you simply purchased it it works it absolutely responds to move the place you need do some thing make your player proud well I was once lied to we were all lied to and betrayed betrayal yeah that is all I wanted shut the door fuck this position shut the door i have not felt one of these massive disparity between what we have been instructed and what we bought due to the fact aliens colonial Marines and no man’s sky bethesda has unequivocally failed at what it set out to do right here in spite of whether you for my part like it or no longer on account that one man’s trash is a further man’s treasure and trust me this is trash by using their possess words they fail and this time it points all new rendering lights and landscape science rendering quite you get here it is proper over there there it’s see it you not see that helicopter what the fuck proper there it just spawned in that popin is fucking horrible and this time it elements all new rendering lighting fixtures appear at this like can i just ask okay inform me why that light is coming from okay it can be like you understand what like you know if persons like God Ray’s God Ray’s out of the fucking earth that is so folks like what’s the floor will not be why is the ground i am blowing oh my god what is this fucking guy and this time it points all new rendering lighting fixtures and panorama technological know-how first of path that you can play this solo alright you’ll be able to be you can be who you want exploring a big world doing quests experiencing a narrative and leveling up we like those things about our video games too it wouldn’t have it another means in actual fact you’ll by no means even see a server while you play so realistically speakme oh appear the server crashed tremendous time it cup yeah it relatively cannot go any minimize severely fallout 76 is through some distance the biggest undertaking that now we have ever performed it encompasses materials of the studio in Maryland Austin Montreal for Bethesda sport Studios as good as we’re getting quite a few aid from different parts of Bethesda one of the vital pleasant men and women at ed software arcane ZeniMax online and so it really is a tremendous challenge not just for us but all elements of Bethesda no no it can be not and if that many studios contributed to making this mess then perhaps that used to be a part of the predicament why did it take that many to create this piece together fallout four asset blip considering that that’s what that is provide an explanation for it to us gigantic patches that hardly fix some thing it is obtained so many technical problems it can be amazing Bethesda I’ve web I’ve there may be truthfully I’ve this clip proper here this is this encapsulate psmith is de this is without doubt one of the most blurring undercooked worm crammed lazy efforts with the aid of Bethesda and as long as i will be able to remember you sir I just bought a sweet roll hell yeah they would need to double your stamina they usually desire a fast travel again right here at least OG we see a participant here you higher be competent to move bro i’m continuously competent be ready to move at all times it comes by means of a hundred% as a speedy effortless money snatch to any person with a mind it takes expertise of the Fallout fan base except but this did not even trouble to decorate it up a little bit bit no rather it shows up tremendously late belligerent and shit-faced inebriated to the survival get together you understand that asshole that manages to break it for everyone 76 is here little one ready to social gathering no boy come on let’s go back know the survival occasion is over howdy did you just log out no no would you just glitch no you bros you all out fallout all out 70 triumphant first-rate – it’s idiot no all right it’s night he is asking me for money now look nobody plans survival games in or you are late to the party it can be what about mutters oh yeah now combat Royale fuck is that fuck that man he is a fine man he does not have you ever go residence go home touch me do not touch me cook dinner come on I are not able to don’t forget this is the identical studio with a view to cancel the strong-watching preto due to great issues and production cut-off dates yet turns around and places out this excellent sign for this with probably the most worst bugs and outright admitting it can be now not even completed of their freaking press free up and their computer virus record reads like a fucking novel no no this isn’t ideal this is not our job that’s your job your job is to unlock a completed game not a opening factor to a sport so that we will fix it for you our video games often at this point have numerous techniques which might be working but we’ve not quite gelled all of them together rather the way the end customers see it and definitely we did file these malicious program issues to you three years ago and fallout four you just ported it proper back in right here nonetheless damaged although the group fix them with patches you could not be equipped to do the equal and they literally reproduction pasted this sport so tough that that trojan horse from fallout four exists in this sport and it is fucking over 1000’s of people when you consider that you can not patch it what do you imply you can’t patch up you cannot use the fix from fallout 4 and fallout 76 which was once a participant patch Bethesda is mindful of this worm and it has existed for two years in Fallout 4 and they not ever constant it and it is on this recreation that too I’ve grow to be Windigo man all proper you’ll you can be who you want exploring a huge world doing quests however that’s executed this isn’t early entry this can be a full retail recreation that clearly has no proper to be bought at these costs that you’re promoting and now you have to agree considering the fact that it’s already reportedly right down to 40 after which by the point this review it is like a 35 I’ve under no circumstances noticeable a sport dropped that rough and speedy in price in ceaselessly if ever that means they already knew it wasn’t worth that shit and folks like me who paid for to persons such as you who pay for guts we paid them to beta experiment their game we anticipate triple a satisfactory or at least finished pleasant from a company we keep in high regard and that i on no account not ever want to see them pull some thing like this again I I learn on the net that our video games have had a few bugs I did I learn it on the internet so it is actual and that in many instances it would not just work anyway certain variations it is excellent the graphics are awful it permits us to have sixteen instances the element sixteen occasions the detail sixteen instances the element I was once announcing sixteen occasions the detail yeah I used to be saying some thing 16 times the detail I was once definitely pronouncing whatever that is for sure the sport is actually destabilizing in front of me there may be a glitch in the matrix its action oh my god it’s just getting worse in each door oh however God the game is destabilizing sixteen instances the element i’m jogging into an invisible wall correct now all of this simply works it’s no longer i’m not kidding and again it just works in even view far-off climate programs throughout the map and i’m worn out of it the computer interface it’s shit there was zero effort put into that poor and the engine it is a literal fossil the sport on pc has such awkward default enter instructions its dumbfounding in an RPG where you are fiddling round along with your inventory much more so than than fallout 4 and also you cannot pause the article for the reason that of all their gathering and crafting and within the are living survival recreation now that damn factor was applied to enhance a player’s exceptional of lifestyles ctrl + tab doesn’t do some thing yeah does ctrl tab and that is sure I would like to join the staff now you invited me to alternate within the manipulate tab you have to become a member of our staff they simply basically did the identical from fallout 4 the same crafting the identical constructing with a few extra abnormal action options right here and there this game is actually all of the weakest points of fallout 4 repackage together as its core expertise does that sound enjoyable to you the shitty filler quests the busy work the fumbling around and a strategy to small stock all made worse by the introduced hunger and dehydration considerations there must be residing this factor proper additionally we have to heal we did not even drop I bought two pieces of dogmeat and that i bought that is it that’s off the dead dog lets off the dead dog gunpowder and why don’t our there no interesting human NPCs it contributes to creating real world feel empty and shallow though it teases you with a mayor a hunts grasp oh however of path they may be robots just of course you’re fortunate they help us get equipped for the upcoming flood of keen tourists and i am now not the whole 5% off the cost of all points of interest we now have four major points of interest around here wavy Willard’s no doing variety no no no you mess with the lore anyway to get this recreation to occur you mess with the Brotherhood lore you may have messed with the creature lore you’ve got messed with the Enclave and the timeline you are clearly inclined to bend matters and create new things but you refuse to place in human NPCs with intriguing reports given that of a massively misguided directed from possibly Todd that every human he desired you to meet can be a participant however there is one huge difference with this game it can be that each of these characters is an actual person well guess what players suck gamer’s don’t play games like npcs and they may be able to on no account be substitutes for them chiefly on account that people are shitty assholes in games with the aid of nature they do and say shitty matters they lose their fucking cool please do not behave as Bethesda wishes them to and none of this cross their mind considering that they could not even be bothered to position adequate push-to-speak feature at launch ELC which is the fuck they the game with the open mic from the damn personality creator they do not even help you get out of the vault before somebody’s yelling racist shit respiration into the mic like a moron or their mother is heard yelling at them to wash their fucking room that is fucking ridiculous what’s the who the fuck is speaking right now shut the fuck up tell your mom to shut up looking to fucking play listen right here you little stop fucking masturbating and switch your mic off this indicates you ways little proposal went into this it’s all downhill from there the opening of the vault it feels weak when it’s presupposed to be this epic moment it appears like rust crap i am opening compared to yes okay when you get available in the market there may be consistent popping so it is for that rendering and landscape engine horrible draw distances there’s an unsightly blur off in the distance irrespective of how powerful my computer is and it is empower ‘fl movement pace is relatively tied to border cost some persons document that it even makes the motion ill to play with this totally limited field of view and bobbing head made even worse in third-man or woman and particularly once more there is an issue with the engine they can not even quite comfortably repair to put sufficient in fov slider yeah there is zero problems with this engine all right um the satisfactory strategy to alternate the fov is to move inside of your consumer account files my video games and fought seventy six find the fought 76 I and i and do a replica paste and then rename the reproduction customized simply add the phrase custom like that now I can not do it once more on the grounds that I already have one however you then just identify yours customized and then what you wish to have to do is go into the custom ini and these are the two traces you need the lighting fixtures bloom effect is ridiculous guys it offers everyone keratoconus a degenerative eye that I actually was diagnosed with and suffer from where lights get blurred and they have got like these halos and lots of spill to them and bleed outcome so watching at fallout is how I truely see most often this game actually gives you a simulation of getting a scientific i what the fuck it seems that the shadows are based on the place i’m looking video on how to get unlimited grenades and unlimited XP so and it will not stop going up fucking unlimited however yeah see i’m going right right here showing you you could go to each of these wires don’t work that way oh yeah the sport’s story which there is not any story is brought to you in probably the most boring static holotapes so you engage of their story we brought a lot of holotape to this sport you can hear plenty of audio you will of path be capable to it so that the reports absolutely wealthy in a way considering that you’ll be able to be able to hear it as you continue to quest along and enjoy the experience in a technique we have not carried out earlier than oh your acquaintances and random strangers are screaming on your ear so you barely even work here with them they’re saying I do not know how you are making ammo I believe you desire a tinker and these supposed quests first of direction you can play this solo my god I was once describing this recreation to a buddy and i spotted simply how mundane these quests have been I used to be like hi there man yeah I needed to select up ten beer bottles turn a water valve which failed to do something cool like fill the park with radiated water or something after which I had to kill a crap exceptional satisfactory genius time you keep thinking that it’s gonna get higher it is gonna go someplace the questions gonna get better your degree 10 it can be gonna get better degree 20 is it better but level 30 better please degree 60 oh my god why is it no longer better he’ll Dell even made it to 100 and fucking 40 and it in no way acquired any better it in no way does all that occurs is you get fairly cooler loot to play the equal terrible gameplay loop again and again awful pics awful UI awful quests terrible gameplay loops terrible enemy AI awful and that’s to not say that the gameplay can not be exciting once in a while along with your buddies it can be a stressful second while you see an awfully high-level gigantic monster on the earth and taking one down with the crew it can be enjoyable but these moments are few and a ways between and are not particularly all that high-quality after its newness wears off by and large because the combat is so shallow can they are saying they made these guys like pleasant shit Raiders are replaced with the boring scorched zombies I believe they are forever caught in here but other than that the style of enemies is without a doubt notably good most effective ruined by the horrible AI it is mind-dead god-awful standing round like statues caught in poses or enemies popping correct in entrance of you fuck did you simply spawn correct in entrance of me but perhaps that is all of the intention maybe the complexity of the AI in fallout seventy six is so first-class that it is borderline self-mindful and the AI effortlessly just desires to kill itself for being on this game stating that this can be a $60 recreation with shit like this okay did this this is my point this proper right here Wow seem chat is still oh my goodness Wow what about what about just like the super gun right here nope still nonetheless the difficulty bats has been bastardized to check out to fit in here it should had been unnoticed entirely it is what made fight in prior Fallout games tolerable but it surely’s oftentimes less accurate than just firing your self considering the fact that it will go from like ninety five percentage all the way down to zero in an on the spot without good judgment real-time bats it is simply dumb and i’m so unwell and worn out of the Bethesda fanboys attacking me on the grounds that i do not like this game and that i think Fallout multiplayer deserved significantly better painting me as a troll on YouTube immediately to Todd or to Pete conveniently since I located it boring in one early session however Joe it can be fun with pals frankly any game is extra fun with friends so do not trot out that tired excuse to disregard its flaws and paint me as a villain i do not I critically should not have some form of vendetta to ruin this sport I wanted it to be excellent to be better than what we bought I paid $200 but it has just method too many problems and i see it for what it’s my personal favorite part of fallout 76 is when they create their own enjoyable a giant part of the sport is meant to be PvP it is only awful and execution here it desperately desires a whole redesign and our PvP targeted provider to work if n if the game is meant to be a co-op expertise to take down fallout monsters with your acquaintances then let or not it’s that but if it was once supposed to be PvP as well that some serious work needs to go in right here cuz everyone ignores it i do not even care o.K. Let me show off my PvP so dumb on this game i have a bounty of a hundred and twelve caps right now would not topic that i’m desired or some thing if I if I die lose these caps but except I fucking go and get shot back by means of this man or woman even though I want a PvP it doesn’t matter most robust shotgun in the entire King imaginable and i cannot kill this individual I do like one damages shot i am got bounty for attacking him up to a hundred and twelve calves and there is nothing i will do except he clearly fucking shoots me again now that I simply have a bounty and if I die I lose all those caps there is nothing I would do about it so if he shoots me but oh no someone’s opposed and i will be able to kill them in a single shot or not I would get the injury worm on a participant I ok now I acquired I got the damage trojan horse on a player so i don’t i don’t even understand i don’t even comprehend how you can handle that this game is too damn buggy it is just you suck at a such a disadvantage to fight your enemy’s gonna respawn correct subsequent to you again and again striking you into a demise spiral loop it’s atrocious put out of your mind it i’m accomplished the top recreation it is non-existent yes shedding nukes may also be cool as hell what have I completed that is what you get for telling me to gather cans motherfucker that is what you get well feed the humans you know what I spent them dying but even that has disorders you type new codes which can drop by way of the world or perhaps it failed to drop through the arena and it is just that worrying beeping even when there’s no codes it makes no gameplay feel anyway you kind these codes you drop the nukes and then you definately inform the new crop field but you don’t even need to farm those codes anymore when you consider that these idiots don’t trade the codes whenever a nuke is launched so the code is the same and all of the work you probably did to find that code means nothing when anybody else simply post the code to learn it so that you can simply launch it with no need to do any of that shit it is long gone there may be nonetheless beat me there’s still fuckin pygmy whats up hey the place did you get that new this is penny out bloodless do you telling me that i’ve been out here for hours days or don’t fucking map for the fucking correct go peasant get fucking read did you waste your time however watch out to now not drop a couple of nuke at a time or it will crash the Bethesda servers if truth be told you’ll be able to under no circumstances even see a server while you play your ultimate boss is a scorch beast queen I imply Skyrim dragon however even that’s mainly a enormous waste of time legendary drops are so totally random so that you get a lone one megastar piece of legendary for your entire rough work and past that there’s nothing at this factor within the recreation you’ll be killing glowing loss of life claws like they may be nothing oh my god I wrecked it simplest life deflating the entire undertaking in the sport happens means too speedy your hardest enemies assault Franz possibly mirelurk queens are more difficult to kill definite but once more the sport finds a approach to fuck that up hiya howdy this just works it can be no longer i’m now not kidding look at that 4 bus kiss chat get in on that for a bus yeah let’s doing it for me oh there she bought me get oh there goes the help and again it just works so does the game do anything well good sure i would say probably three matters complete the new perks system it can be sort of interesting but I cannot particularly say better per se it’s simply exciting it’s like playing should you get card packs and gum which scared the hell out of me into considering that we’d be shopping these packs as frankly it seems developed for that purpose however nope they’re simply given to you at intervals perhaps it’s intelligent to keep it that means if they weren’t aspiring to do some thing one of a kind let’s hope it stays that method but at later levels even with that you simply get annoyed regularly swapping your perks for stuff like normal things like lock-deciding on given that it’s the one technique to do it and if you screwed up your stats while leveling get this too bad you can’t admire at all although I completed the sport and i hit degree 50 and like you get stopped getting perk points at level 50 not being capable to respec like to change your stats it can be such a tough method because i have so many perk facets and so many matters I want to do but there may be like actually no appreciate within the recreation you just caught with anything aspects you get so should you like her just a informal player and you do not feel this out earlier than you go and do it you get screwed like if I have been to only have 5 agility i would be screwed someone else at this point consider this game was once not well suggestion out and was rushed every game that we will we are taking the entire suggestions that now we have gotten from our fans that are effective and they provide it all to us whether it’s good dangerous anything that is what makes us better builders and so reading all that suggestions from our previous video games what they already consider about fallout 76 fairly informs what we’re doing what we do in the future go the place you want what do anything you need I was gonna say the tune subsequent but fairly it can be only one stunning track that I rather love k and the map the map it’s stuffed with exact areas and lots of kind probably greater than some other Fallout sport ever the sport is colorful in ingredients now considered one of my colossal criticisms of Fallout 4 used to be how drab it used to be and this cements that it is only significantly better with just a little of color but what is the factor when the whole thing else fails to are living up round it it is like a amazing wealthy child sandbox with just a bunch of broken lame-ass toys to play with him there after which it has the gall to ask you to purchase microtransactions but what the fuck is this or are you fucking serious a paint set 1800 atoms for fucking blue you need me to spend $18 for fucking blue what is this evolved no Bethesda No zero effort here like the rest of the sport but laziness even extends to what they need you to buy and microtransactions it’s astounding you guys are fucking incompetent I hate this sport and that i barely desired to play any further of it i’m sorry the overview took goodbye however i’m gonna recall this this it can be it can be simply terrible it is boring there’s nothing worse than boring I almost have a hilariously dangerous sport than a fucking boring game and that is what that is it in general deserves probably as if you’re crazy you could supply it a type for those who literally love whatever certainly not once more and i hope this sends a message but this does now on become aware of and recognize the trolls did not do it the YouTube provocateurs failed to do it however that did it and now i am going from insanely occupied with megastar subject and Elder Scrolls 6 to deathly afraid if Bethesda used to be willing to position this out with out apology this must be a serious warning call for this corporation there’s no love no care no effort here at all an asset flip fuck fucking cat toes you’re gonna you are gonna put tattoos in my face on the end of the evaluation for this much money anything that was once free and a long way for I can’t I cannot I cannot with this no terrible i want my money back okay am i able to nonetheless get my money back does anybody wish to buy up a fallout 76 what number of any individual did you waste your time you’re now not fucked it up

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batterymonster2021 · 5 years

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Fallout 76 Angry Review

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/fallout-76-angry-review-2/

Fallout 76 Angry Review

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itsclydebitches · 8 years

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Summary:

“He likes this song.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

In which Cisco is given seven months to fall in love with Barry Allen. It’s admittedly a little weird - what with Barry being unconscious and all - but since when was anything normal nowadays?

Fandom: The Flash (TV show)

Words: Through Chapter Three: 8,213 (will be around 12k total)

Warnings: None

Pairings: Barry/Cisco

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 recommended for formatting)

~~~

Worth the Wait: Chapter Three

Could you know someone you’d never spoken to? Really get them based purely on their presence and a public profile? Cisco was starting to wonder.

It was freaking him out just a bit. Because the longer Barry just lay there the longer Cisco searched for him online, and the more he searched the more he felt like they’d known each other for years. Barry posted update statuses filled with enough science jargon that all his friends sent exasperated emojis and his former teachers liked the posts with pride. There were silly Vine attempts and one memorable home video, basically laying out for the world that Barry Allen would never be an actor. Barry posted more selfies than the stereotypical teenage girl (all of them stunning), wept about his food, glorified his job (which he didn’t need, he was a goddamn hero in Cisco’s eyes), comforted anyone about anything, sent heartfelt messages on everyone’s birthday, and accompanied those tear-jerkers with presents—despite his slightly iffy bank account.

He was like a ray of sunlight personified.

Cisco knew, intellectually, that a digital footprint was just one small part of a person’s whole. That they were never truly what they posted online. That, really, Barry couldn’t be this sunny, smart, gracious, and heroic in real life. Constructs like this just didn’t exist.

Except then he’d look over at the guy’s still form and think, maybe.

What cinched it for him was another real life person suddenly appearing in, what had become, his otherwise digitalized world. Cisco came into the Lab Thursday morning with bedhead and a packet of chocolate donuts, thinking about how he wanted to test the Suit’s resistance to acid and read more about whether coma patients experienced smell as well as sound. Cisco was lost enough in his thoughts that he nearly ran into Caitlin as she rounded the corner out of the Cortex. They exchanged a silent, rapid-fire conversation—Donut? No, already ate. You okay? Yeah. Sure? There’s a Thing. A Thing??—and Cisco was still trying to decipher what kind of a Thing that hand gesture meant when he spotted the woman sitting at Barry’s bedside.

Oh. That kind of a Thing.

Cisco recognized her. He’d seen her name on the Labs’ entrance logs a few times before and he had vague memories of her standing on the periphery of the action the day they’d moved Barry here. Mostly Cisco knew her from Barry’s pictures though. She was in nearly all of them.

“Hi, Iris,” he said and she turned to smile at him, the both of them totally ignoring the fact that they’d never technically met before. That was refreshing.

“Hey, Cisco.”

“Donut?”

“God yes. Chai latte?”

“Not worried about my cooties?”

“Nah. Go for it.”

She passed over her drink and he set the box on Barry’s blankets, kind of liking how some of the sprinkles spilled over. It gave him a less sterile look. Like a dude who’d actually been munching rather than just...lying there.

The chai was spicy on Cisco’s tongue. He could see the smears of Iris’ lipstick around the cup’s edge.

It was kind of amazing how put together she looked in the face of this ongoing tragedy, and Cisco had to give her points for style. He had his own sort of look going on, sure, but he also know that if his bestie/brother got struck by freaking lightning and refused to wake up he’d be sporting nothing but comfort PJs and tear stains. Cisco tried uselessly to untangle his hair.

“He loves these, you know,” Iris said, holding up one of the donuts. She tilted it so Barry could see. “He always eats the icing first though, scooping it off like—” she demonstrated, scattering more crumbs across the bed.

Cisco pulled a face. “Okay. That’s wrong.”

“Right? You need to see him eat a cupcake. He pulls it apart and like, makes a sandwich out of it. Or nachos! Jesus, he’s always complaining about not getting all the toppings in one bite. I told him to just lift, but he claims the weight is too much for a single chip, and... ”

Iris trailed off, shaking her head. Maybe she was thinking about the implications: that hopefully someday Cisco would get to see Barry and his ridiculous eating habits.

“Food is priority #1,” Cisco said. “He’s a guy after my own heart.”

As soon as he said it Cisco ducked his head, realizing the implications of that, but Iris didn’t even bat an eye.

She just took another donut.Cisco let her.

“You know I’ve started talking to him,” he shared after a few moments of silence. Iris’ smile begged him to continue. “Uh huh. I must look like a real nut on all the security footage. But I read that coma patients can, you know, hear and stuff. Sometimes. So I figured why not? Might as well give Barry something to focus on other than this insistent beeping.” It actually wasn’t even that bad--Caitlin had removed most of the equipment on the third day, growling that it wasn’t doing enough for Barry anyway—but the point remained the same.

Iris snatched her drink back. “What do you talk about?”

“Oh, you know... stuff. Gossip mostly. I complain a lot. Just... things.”

Iris was still smiling. “He likes movies,” she said. “Put Star Wars on sometime.”

“...right.” Cisco very much didn’t voice that the Star Wars franchise was his be-all and end-all fave.

Iris stood then, reaching over to smooth the hair out of Barry’s face. “You gotta wake up,” she whispered and Cisco had to turn away, recognizing the private moment. He didn’t comment on how long it took her to speak again, or the thick quality of Iris’ voice when she did.

Cisco did clasp her arm though as she took up her purse. “Work,” she explained. “I’ll come back tonight?”

“I’m sure not stopping you.” Cisco spread his arms in a welcoming gesture.

Iris seemed to consider him then. One of those cataloguing looks that made Cisco wish he’d actually used a comb this morning. Or worn something other than his Homestuck t-shirt. Whatever Iris found though didn’t seem to be too bad.

“He’ll like you,” she said and it felt like a promise.

Cisco nodded, slowly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He definitely will.”

They both appreciated the future tense.

Iris left him then with too many thoughts and just the right amount of donuts. Cisco sighed, taking the place she’d vacated (no, it wasn’t his spot, no matter what Caitlin was starting to say) and booted up his laptop, enjoying this new routine.

Cisco pulled up Chrome in one window and a stream of A New Hope in the other. He wafted a donut under Barry’s nose as the story’s scroll began.

“Smell that, dude? Glazed glory, right here. Gonna wake up for it?”

Barry breathed even and deep. His eyes moved briefly beneath his lids. That was all.

“Your loss.”

Cisco was nothing if not gracious though. He patted Barry’s knee while taking a massive bite.

“I’ll buy you more when you do get your lazy ass out of bed,” he garbled. “Promise.”

***

Taking care of a coma patient was, sadly, not all movies and one-sided conversations. Cisco was endlessly glad that Barry gave them all something to focus on (Caitlin in particular, gushing daily now about the ever growing changes in Barry’s DNA. “It’s fascinating, Cisco!” “Uh huh. Sure, Spock.”) but there were some things that just shouldn’t have been a part of the job. Or at least, not part of Cisco’s job.

He so didn’t sign up for this when he applied to STAR Labs.

“You want me to what now?”

Dr. Wells gave him a Look. It was the particular one that was a combination of “I expected more of you” and “please leave your immaturity outside of my facility.” The last time Cisco had gotten the Look he’d accidentally set Level 8’s workroom on fire trying to create goggles that replicated heat vision.

Emphasis on ‘accidentally.’

“I have a meeting with Larson—yes, yes, of rheology fame.” Dr. Wells shook his head. “Please wipe that look off your face, Dr. Snow. She’s not nearly as impressive in person as her autobiography suggests.”

“You read her autobiography?” Caitlin teased, but she did school her features. Dr. Wells waved her off like an errant fly.

“Look, I would honestly like nothing better than to skip this lunch and remain here, but Larson is insistent that we discuss the work our two labs were conducting prior to the explosion. I have… admittedly been putting it off.” Dr. Wells took of his glasses to rub at his eyes. Cisco felt a pang. “I fear you’re the only one available for this shift.”

Cisco looked imploringly at Caitlin.

“Grandpa’s birthday,” she said, apologetic. “It’s literally the one family gathering I can’t miss.”

“Joe?” Cisco suggested, remembering the strong, fatherly man who had accompanied Iris on numerous visits.

“Working.”

“Iris?”

“Also working.”

“And look who else is in his place of employment, on the clock no less,” Dr. Wells gave him another pointed look.

Cisco felt something like panic inching its way up his throat. “And this can’t wait?”

“Don’t be cruel. You’ll be fine,” and with that utterly useless bit of confidence they just abandoned him, like two totally awful, abandoning people.

“I will have my revenge,” Cisco whispered, because really, he was not cut out for this.

Clipping toe and fingernails was one thing. Swapping out full catheter bags was ew, gross, but doable. Turning the guy to avoid bed soars was a piece of cake. But sponge baths?

Cisco looked at Barry. Barry (he imagined) was looking back, with his eyes closed. Judging. Cisco thought about how he’d feel if he was stuck in bed for months without access to a shower.

He shivered. Fine.

Getting the supplies took longer than he’d anticipated, though it gave Cisco time to calm down a bit and, as Caitlin might say, stop being such a big baby about it. He got two tubs of water ready—one for washing, one for rinsing—and made sure that the bath water was nice and hot. It wasn’t like the Cortex was freezing, but who the hell wanted a lukewarm bath?

Easy to wash away soap. Baby shampoo that smelled liked lavenders. Lots of washcloths; even more towels. It took Cisco ten goddamn minutes to find the special basin for washing hair because who the hell had put it with the old microscopes?

By the time he was ready the bath water was no longer scalding and Cisco’s heart wasn’t a freaking jackrabbit anymore. Progress.

“I hope you know,” he intoned, “that this completely solidifies our friendship. I expect best man-level status when you wake up, dude. Got it?”

Barry breathed.

“Damn straight. C’mon now...”

He’d moved Barry before, and despite the muscle developing he was still surprisingly light. Cisco got him on his side pretty easily and slid a couple of towels underneath, really not wanting to change the sheets yet if he could help it. Barry had been going shirtless most of the time anyway, so all he really had to do clothes-wise was tug the pajama pants carefully off his legs.

Cisco definitely did not look at the toned thighs as he did.

“Don’t be a perv about this,” he muttered. “Do not be a perv...”

And for the most part he wasn’t, because he was an adult, and a decent person, okay? Cisco had always viewed his nerd status as at least preferable to the Nice Guy douches, and he was perfectly capable of separating romantic situations from professional ones.

This was definitely the latter.

Even if Barry did have the most fantastic abs. Ever.

Cisco clucked, soaping up a washcloth to run over Barry’s arms and chest. “I should really hate you, you know? I should be jealous here, Mr. Lays in Bed All Day and Somehow Gets Buff. But I am the bigger man here. Even if you’re a freaking giraffe. I’m still bigger. Metaphorically. Okay?”

Talking to Barry had gotten easy over the last few weeks. It was sort of worrying Cisco a bit. He didn’t know if the guy was that good a conversationalist even while comatose, or if he was just that lonely (ha). But sometime between not startling every time he caught sight of the new edition and donuts with Iris, Cisco had let his talking get a little more... personal. Less Jitters gossip and more family drama. Then less family drama and more, ‘Hey, could we actually be buds when you finally decide to wake up?’

Part of Cisco was terrified that Barry would remember all this someday. Another part worried that he wouldn’t be nearly as cool in real life as he was on paper.

The realistic part said he would, but would also 100% not give a shit about Cisco.

“And why should you, man?” he said, carefully going over Barry’s stomach, then his back. “I mean, we just sort of got landed with you. Not that I’m complaining. But it means you got landed with us too. You didn’t ask to get struck by lightning, or delve into an extended nap, or become Dr. Wells’ charity case. You’ve got every right to ditch our asses once you’re up and about.” Cisco regarded the soapy washcloth. “Not gonna hang with your nurse, right? How lame is that.”

He was nearly done with Barry’s upper body now. “But... if you did want to hang...well. I’d be cool with that. Just so you know.”

Cisco stopped. Shook his head. He spent another ten minutes changing the water.

He paused again before removing the blankets around Barry’s legs. “Don’t make this weird,” he admonished.

In the list of things Cisco had planned and expected to do with his life, cleaning another man’s genitals wasn’t anywhere on the list. Outside of sexy-shower fantasies at least. He really shouldn’t have worried though. Barry might have been gorgeous, but there wasn’t anything sexy about a non-consenting partner that made you think more about necrophilia than second dates.

It didn’t stop Cisco from taking his time though. He didn’t like what he was doing—it wasn’t what he was starting to want it to be—but he’d sure as hell do it right.

“There,” he announced, patting Barry dry and pulling the blankets back up. “I’ve saved the best for last. Can’t promise not to get soap in your eyes though.”

It was sort of soothing, washing someone else’s hair. Cisco liked the texture of it beneath his fingers and he tried to get all fancy, like the women did in salons with their massages. He wondered if Barry was in there somewhere, appreciating it. He hoped so.

Cisco found himself smiling as he made little tufts of his hair stick up. “Aww. Look at you. Take note: you would make an excellent penguin. Feels good, huh?”

Barry drew in a slightly longer breath—

—and promptly began seizing.

“Holy—!”

Cisco stumbled back, knocking the basin as he went and sending water everywhere. The motion knocked Barry’s head as well, causing it to loll as the rest of his body jerked horrendously. The blanket he’d so carefully tucked in slipped off to the side. Bits of soap began decorating Cisco’s shirt.

He just stood there, useless.

It was Barry’s right arm flying off the bed (limp, pale like a dead fish) that finally sent him into motion. Cisco’s first instinct was to throw himself atop Barry and stop that godawful movement, but a vague, oddly calm voice in the back of his mind reminded him that you didn’t do that. No. That was bad. But what did you do instead?

“Dr. Wells!”

That’s what he did. He got help; got his mentor. Cisco scrambled over to the Lab’s sound system and slammed his hand over the button with enough force to leave an outline on his palm. “Dr. Wells get up here!” He must have shouted it more than he’d thought, because by the time Cisco remembered that Dr. Wells had left his voice was feeling terribly raw.

Dr. Wells was gone. He was out, for the first time in ages. Because of course this happens. Cisco pulled at his hair, trying to get his useless brain to function for two goddamn seconds. He couldn’t call Dr. Wells. He didn’t know his number. The three of them had practically been living together for four months and he didn’t know the man’s goddamn cell number.

“Oh my god, oh fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Cisco whirled on the monitors, trying to get all his training in engineering to somehow translate into medical knowledge. He was halfway through a muddled translation of the meds Caitlin had been feeding into Barry this week when one piece of equipment finally made sense.

The steady beat of Barry’s heart—a sound that had become a necessary part of Cisco’s world—suddenly stopped. Rapid beeps became a long whine that sounded like a scream.

“No,” Cisco whispered.

In the same moment he thought, Call Caitlin.

Because he did have her number. They’d swapped months ago. He was her emergency contact, now that Ronnie was gone.

Barry’s not Ronnie, Cisco insisted and dove for his cell. He had it ringing while he grabbed for his Macbook too, screaming as Siri to find him tutorials on CPR.

“Why the fuck didn’t I take that summer class?” Cisco shrieked, trying to get the bed to go flat.

“Why didn’t you what?”

And there it was, Caitlin’s voice, a godsend that cut straight through Cisco’s panic. Even so, he couldn’t recall exactly what he said to her then, only that his breathy ramblings seemed to make some sort of sense, because he was able to toss Siri aside (useless) and follow Caitlin’s instructions instead. He had the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, Barry’s heart directly beneath his hands.

Cisco spotted a drop of water. It might have been from the bath. It was probably because he was crying.

“It’s not—he’s not—” he kept gulping, feeling like he was about to pass out. There were actual spots in Cisco’s vision when he was suddenly wrenched off the bed, hard enough that he fell straight onto his ass.

Caitlin was here, impossibly. She looked calm and doctor-y and Cisco sucked in a massive breath.

“How?” he managed and she said something about her and her mother getting into a fight. She’d come back here and, oh Jesus, Cisco was so glad she had.

The relief was sort lived though. Barry was still coding.

Which made Caitlin’s next action all the more shocking. She just...stopped. She even stepped back, regarding Barry while every machine attached to him screamed that he was dying.

“What are you doing?” Cisco hissed.

Caitlin looked up. Her expression was awe. It was the first and only time Cisco had seen the true definition of the word: reverence mixed with fear.

“He heart hasn’t stopped,” she whispered. “It’s... tachycardia. It’s beating so fast the machine can’t pick it up.”

Barry stopped.

Instantly. Like the conclusion of a puzzle when you’d finally found the answer, he just stopped. From 60 back to 0 they had their sleepy, peaceful looking guy again.

The monitor began a steady rhythm. Beep, beep, beep.

“God,” Cisco said. Still on the floor he crawled the last few inches to the bed, heedless of how soaked his jeans were getting. He reached up and took Barry’s hand in his. Unbidden, Caitlin did the same.

That’s how Dr. Wells found them twenty minutes later—still wet, still holding onto Barry. Caitlin told him in a shell-shocked voice about the impossible heart rate; how the ‘seizing’ Cisco had seen was actually vibration, Barry’s body moving at a frequency she just couldn’t explain. When Dr. Wells reached them Cisco expected a thorough questioning on this phenomenon. He expected the scientist.

Instead Dr. Wells raised a hand of his own. He hesitated only a moment before laying it on Barry’s arm.

“But he’s okay?” he asked. Dr. Wells raised his gaze, taking in the three of them at once. “You’re okay?”

“Mmm hmm,” Caitlin agreed, a little watery. Cisco nodded.

“Good... good. Let’s get this place cleaned up.”

It was while Dr. Wells was bundling Barry’s soaked sheets that Cisco stopped him, daring to lay his on hand on his mentor’s shoulder. When Dr. Wells didn't brush him off—didn’t even flinch—Cisco mustered up a smile.

“Hey. So I really need your number.”

#Flash #The Flash #Barry/Cisco #Barry Allen #Cisco Ramon #flashfic

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