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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

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i ain’t done anything for @tolkienocweek yet, mostly because my covid-induced neet-dom has decoupled me from any association with sidereal time and thus there’s no way i could guarantee getting something out on its specific day. still, i do have one character that could potentially qualify for day 3 (background characters) or day 4 (self-inserts), sorta. i’d like to introduce you all to the proprietor of the fëanorian ethics department, the as-yet-nameless fed elf

fed elf is a... moderately idealised self-insert of mine, though she’s taking on a life of her own

she’s also a noldo. of course she is

her Noldorin Craft™ is, as i’ve said before, arguing. she has very strong opinions about almost everything and will debate them at length

she’s moderately infamous for it in tirion

she’s especially fond of philosophy, in the ancient-greek asking-a-million-rhetorical questions style. what should we do? why do we do the things we do? why do the valar get to tell us what to do?

... you can probably tell which side of the fëanor/fingolfin debate she landed on, if it wasn’t already obvious

she’s not particularly close to any of the future capital-H House, but she is in their rough orbit. one of the miscellaneous guild trolls that form the rank-and-file of their initial expeditionary force

idk if she’s ~devoted to the cause enough to go to formenos, but when the trees get eaten and fëanor rolls up into tirion with the solution to all their spider problems, she is all for it

she’s a passing acquaintance of maedhros from those times when he’d show up in her guild hall for debate night, so she probably ends up with his crew, at least initially

... there’s a very good chance her first attempts at crafting a new noldorin ethical system happen on that horrible night aboard the blood-stained swanships of alqualondë

in any case, she gets good enough at murder to not die before the brothers hellspawn are divvying up east beleriand, and the formerly reasonably undelineated fëanorian host is splitting up into its various garrisons

most people stay with whoever they’re already riding with, but there are exceptions. she is one of them, as soon as she hears about caranthir’s Plans she immediately switches allegiance to the future lord of thargelion

he’s deliberately trying to set up on the trade routes! they’re gonna make contact with the dwarves! there are apparently trails leading over the blue mountains, links to communities of elves unlike she’s ever seen!

so many new people to argue with!!!!!!

so she heads up to lake helevorn, and helps with setting up the city. she winds up filling some middling role in east beleriand’s military bureaucracy, when she’s not on orc-killing duty

but her true passion is *~ethics~*

there is actually a practical component to this. due to Certain Events the noldor (especially the fëanorians) aren’t as-well suited to their pre-darkening moral codes as they might have once been

they need a new one, with contingencies for, like, murder, and all the other new situations they’ll encounter in this new world! the questions of what’s right and wrong have been blown right open, and fed elf is possibly the happiest she’s been in her life. they’re building everything else from first principles, why not this?

and the fëanorian host in aggregate does actually care about morality, even though outsiders never believe that. it’s what separates them from the orcs (in their minds at least); they’re doing everything for a Cause, not for destruction’s sake alone. say what you want about the fëanorians, their problem was never a lack of ideals

she gets people coming in sometimes, wanting to know what the right thing to do in a situation is. either that, or they think she’s wrong about something and want to explain why in depth, which is almost as fun

soon enough, there’s a small shop just off the main streets of lake helevorn called the fëanorian ethics department

(she’s the only one with a shop, but she’s not the only member of the host with Opinions. the guy on the other side of the market district whose system is fairly similar in the broad strokes but completely different in the details is her personal archnemesis)

for most of the first age, fed elf has it pretty good. by her standards, at least, and she’ll happily exposit at length as to why they’re the only ones that matter

the work on the system of ethics never quite stops, but it does slow down. she’s less prescriptivist than most noldor, so she does a lot of observation and interviewing and stuff, and also new things keep happening for her to cover, but she does manage to nail down the basics!

she does consultation, in varying levels of official capacity, but she’ll also just. answer anyone who comes in with a question. or asks one within earshot

it’s mostly noldorin fëanorians she has debates with, the sindar and atani generally prefer to ask her whatever they want to know with minimum fuss, but whenever she gets a real fight going they all join the crowd. watching fed elf argue with people is one of lake helevorn’s municipal spectator sports

she also has conversations with travellers! these usually start when some newcomer is staring in befuddlement at the sign outside her shop and she takes the opportunity to pounce

she asks them detailed questions about their own ethical systems, which she files away for potential future incorporation/argument ammunition. they fairly frequently ask questions of their own, most often variations on ‘you guys seriously have morals?’

sometimes this even turns into a proper ethical debate! these aren’t usually as well-argued or intense as the ones she has with other fëanorians, particularly if she’s not talking to a noldo, but when she meets someone who’s a proper match for her it is the highlight of her year

running the shop does generate a fair bit of paperwork she tends to be too emotionally invested in to deal with properly, so she hires help now and then. one recurring underling is a clumsy perpetually-ill atan who is nevertheless really good with the filing and holds fierce opinions of their own, even if they hide under the table whenever anyone so much as raises their voice

(that atan is me. much less idealised self insert)

like every other elf in the host, fed elf is still under arms. she has a unit, she’s part of the orc patrol rotas, when caranthir needs to do a battle she pulls her broadsword out from under her desk and reports for the muster. east beleriand is just a pretty violent place in general, and her most impassioned arguments frequently shade into all-out duels. east beleriand, where even especially the philosophers will knife you

but just like fëanor promised on tirion upon túna so long ago, she’s built a place where she can be the best version of herself, and she couldn’t be happier (marketplace douche notwithstanding)

like so much of the host, she has big plans for when they topple angband and reclaim the silmarils. it’s just, well

i am not entirely sure what fed elf’s fate is after the fall of thargelion. most likely she died at some point, because so do most of her peers and also because she has an aversion to cutting her losses that’s definitely gonna backfire sooner or later

it’s either that, or she abandons everything she ever worked out to flee over the blue mountains, or she sticks with the host long enough to see all their ideals and dreams burn to ash. out of all of them death is probably her kindest fate

if she does die - she’s definitely a kinslayer at least one time over, she is staying in the halls for a While. the local maiar completely stonewall her every time she tries to argue her way out, she has plenty of time to sit around and think

because yeah, the host’s century-long self-immolation has given her a lot to think about. she was wrong, it turns out, in several important ways, and from the outside she can see how much the ethical system she put her heart and soul into was bent towards destruction

if she ever gets out, it’ll be after a lot of self-reflection, a massive dose of humility, and her accepting her own small-but-not-insignificant role in the nightmare they created

the fëanorians as get let out of the halls of mandos are without fail less violent, more self-aware, and just generally more conscious of their actions than they were when they went in. fed elf is no exception to this

she’s also no exception to the rule that their time in elf afterlife therapy generally fails to lower their volume at all. soon after her rebirth, after some time spent rethinking her personal moral code, fed elf puts out a thesis as to why elwing’s refusal to give up the silmaril was perfectly justifiable under fëanorian ethical mores

this pisses off a measurable proportion of aman’s sapient population. soon the furious letters of rebuke are pouring in nightly

exactly. as. planned

#tolkienocweek #my terrible headcanons #my terrible ocs #feanorian minions #i have a lot of hcs about how they work that i tried to fit into here #in general i feel like their initial noldorin core is mostly made up of the family hellspawn's personal friends #just groups of buddies going off to war together! there's no way this can end badly!#my mental image of fed elf is way more defined than it has any right to be #i made her up to have a cool blog title and for absolutely no other reason #still it is oc week. y'all are basically asking for my ideas at their dumbest

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salenakingston · 4 years

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Mystery March Day 21 - One of Us

(This is by far the most involved prompt I have done for Mystery March, and so I hope it turned out alright. There will be some more detailed author’s notes at the end of the writing, as there’s no possible way I can fit them all here before it. Just let me express how much of an inspiration you all have been! ENJOY!)

I said, even if I told ya

It all started with an idea, as most every work of art does. Concepts were put in place, branching off from that one base idea. From there, others came together to help get this little project off the ground. Characters were fleshed out, just as the world they lived in where. The team worked hard on everything planned, a true passion project.

When the first video dropped, we were all invested. We fell in love with the characters, story, and music. We couldn’t wait to see more, and despite all the time having to wait, it has always been worth it. Great works take time, and even with a team as dedicated as this one is, they fueled our own passions with previews, updates, character and worldbuilding, merch, and as of the most recent video, a branch into another medium to further tell their story. Their group continued to grow, bringing on more talented individuals, including voice actors.

Fours videos under the belt and one more still to come, they pour their heart and soul into this series, though they are not the only ones who do so. There’s a theory in our world known as the ‘multiverse.’ It is said that all these universes living side by side with one another create everything that exists. Can the same not be said for this team and all the fascinating works of art that came out of this one little series of four videos?

They've been looking for you and only you

It’s a tale of three friends and their dog, all stemming from a terrifying incident inside a cave. One lost their life, one lost their memory, and one lost their arm. What of the last member of their group? He lost his identity. Karma for his trickery would come back to haunt him. Guilt came to consume another, and the last to make it out alive was left wondering what was even going on.

Revenge fueled the one that came back, determined to get back at the one ‘friend’ that managed to cut his life short, and reunite with the love of his life. What started with a chase through a mansion led to the appearance of a tree woman searching for the trickster. The ghost refueled hijacks a truck, gunning down for the familiar van he once drove for all of them.

The woman catches up, shattering the glass wall protecting those in the front seat. The ghost blows the back tire that causes the van to crash. Two encounters branch from this point, one shrouded in the past, and another in the pursuit of revenge. Blonde and blue-haired humans nearly falling at the hands of their captors.

But they survive.

The dog’s true form revealed, the battle commences, blood spilling. As one disintegrates, an opening is left over for a familiar evil to take hold. White became black, demonic nature taking over the once noble being. The three friends left being the ones to bring him free of this grip. What are they to do? It’s all left to be seen...

Darkness is my signal

Not too much is known about this blonde, though despite the change to his physical appearance, there are parts of what defined him that have not changed. He’s had to adjust his lifestyle, but seems to have made the most of his new life. He may have even found some comfort in a bit of an unusual source. Anything to keep him from the self-isolation he seemed content to bring upon himself because of his condition.

So what are you to me, what are we to you?

The cave incident plays out like normal, there is one major change in the timeline of events. The blonde is sent tossed over the cliff along with his best friend, the entity that caused all their problems still trapped inside his body. When the ghost reformed, his anger was washed away at the sight of his friend suffering the same fate, or so he believed. Once free, it was nothing but a rough struggle to hold onto sanity, not just for one of them, but both.

One to keep calm, helping his friend to try and stay lucid.

The other fighting the terrifying entity inside him for control, while changing his body to fit the demon’s needs.

The blonde won, but at what a cost? Green skin covering his body, feet and hands sporting yellow-tinted claws. The posture of his own feet changed, causing him to have to learn how to walk all over again. A tail with a tuft of orange hair, and two large wings attached to his back. Last of course, were the horns on his head, and the blacked out eyes with amber pupils. He was in despair over the turn of events.

At least he had his best friend to help him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without him. Well, this, and the series of events that came to follow. The two were eventually united with their final friend, but their not-dog wasn’t convinced of the blonde’s mind. It didn’t matter that he didn’t act like a demon, as he still looked like one, accepting the pain brought on him.

Drastic measures were taken to ensure freedom of the ghost, no matter how unnecessary it was. Adjustment takes time, and a good talk was what the four of them needed.

But are you one of us?

Are you one of us?

What seemed like a simple task, well maybe not simple, but one that was plausible spiraled into a long drive across the country in search of a cure for the ghost’s condition. All it took was one ingredient: werewolf blood. Seven weeks after the start of their trip, two were starting to lose hope, the last of their trio determined as always. A blur running across the front of their van was enough to bring their hopes back up, chasing down what looked like a big wolf.

To just miss it. It seemed like another dead end for their search.

Until the blonde was all alone.

The wolf jumped out of the shadows, teeth sinking down into flesh. Were it not for the arrival of the kitsune, who knows what would have happened. The injured one was brought back to his friends, patched up, and taken in for proper treatment. A headache marks the night of the full moon, a night when werewolves are said to be forced to transform. What will happen for them? Most left to the whim of try blue ghosts deemed as blueberries. We shall see where their questions and actions take this new werewolf and his friends.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

Tales of legends are passed down, but come from a place of truth. Those that speak of a king gifted a sword with a beautiful, glowing, purple gem just before the silver of the blade. This is a gift from the Lady of the Lake, and one not to be taken lightly. It comes as a surprise when the weapon turns out to be sentient, and the two not always getting along.

Sometimes the king can be a little harsh on his partner.

And sometimes the sword can refuse to work in situations where his help would be greatly appreciated.

They must learn to work with one another if they hope to overcome the obstacles placed in front of them. The question is can this be done, or will they continue to bicker with one another?

I know that this sounds crazy

An unfortunate case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time causes the members of the separate mystery solving groups to be body swapped with one another. A kid stuck with adult hunters that deal with magic, as well as otherworldly dangers, and an adult stuck with a bunch of kids that seem like they may be in way over their heads. The ultimate goal is for the two groups to come together, and find a way to swap the souls in each body back to their original home.

Easier said than done.

One gets to learn the truth of a horrifying incident, something that tore friends apart, and damaged the people of their group beyond some repair. A kind heart is offered to them despite all this, helping to try and ease the burden even if he has nothing to do with them.

The other sees first hand what kind of trouble a group of kids can get themselves in. His own problems arise, and in typical fashion, does not wish to push them onto anyone he’s been stuck with. It’s a little harder to convince some of this new group of the world he has seen, and learned from; but, if there’s one thing he can do, it’s to still help those around him, and lend a hand when a mystery comes along their way.

Two outsider perspectives looking in, and it’s a matter of what adventures they will have before and after they come together again.

Waiting for this moment, can you see me?

A whirlwind of emotions, pushed only further at the hands of abuse, a blonde is left to flee from his own home to try and preserve himself. He fled through the states, ending up at another corner of the US. His mind might have been broken, but that didn’t stop one person from becoming the most important in his life, nor the three that came to follow from their union. The haunts of old were constantly clinging to him, no matter how careful he was so that none could find him, and even when those fears returned, he never let them get in the way of his family. There was an understanding between them.

But all that fear came crashing back when one single letter was hand passed to him by his former friend’s father.

Even terrified out of his wits, he found the courage to pack up some of his family to return to his old home. The past came back in full force, as well as the reveal of a curse that only seemed to have the power to vanquish. The people that treated him the worst came back to him for help. The same blue-haired girl who’s father delivered the father nearly brought the end of three children with her partner in crime. The wraith that made his life a living hell came back trying to act as if there was something he could do to make up for what he had done.

And the demon that caused all this to happen in the first place was now roaming free...

'Cause I know that you're out there

Almost as if the reset button had been hit, the blonde wakes up thrown into the past, a time when his best friend was still alive, but… it wasn’t the same. The blonde was still the same one from the future, and new friends that his past friends would know nothing about showed themselves. How was he meant to be like his old self when anytime he looked at the purple wearing man, all he saw was the vengeful ghost out for his life?

Events aren’t meant to play out the same way, and they don’t. Despite this, some things can not be changed. The demon still found his way to the same host, though what he chose to do was different. Even with all the chaos, at least the one man didn’t lose his life.

And he gets a front row seat to what his blonde friend had to go through in the future he once came from. It hurt. Emotions still rang high, even if the circumstances are not the same.

This darkness is my signal, come and find me

Sometimes the past can be changed and have one new timeline play out, but what if that same man from the future was now thrown into multiple iterations of the same events, each one spent trying to make it a perfect outcome for all four of them? Well… after a few rounds it didn’t matter if he got to be part of their ending. All that mattered was fixing things for the other three. That was his assigned duty.

Death ended each try, waking the man back up in his bed, whether that be at the hands of someone else, or himself. He just needed more time, plan, and make sure he got it right. He could do it, he was determined to do so.

No matter how much it was tearing him apart.

And when enough was finally enough, it was up to the three left to try and convince him that even with pain, they could continue on with their lives. He didn’t have to keep fighting anymore. He could take an ending that hurt, but one they could heal from, rather than spending so many years trying and trying, all to end with a repeat.

As having to remember all of that hurt.

Are you one of us?

What started out as just another night of sleepwalking led the blonde to the steps of a very familiar mansion. Fleeing from an unseen threat caused him to swallow his fear, taking the first step inside. There was no greeting this time, save for the slamming of doors behind him. The only light provided was a light purple of three candles, lifted by the only hand he had. A journey up a flight of stairs and down the hall, coming to a plaque with his name on it.

Entrance strangely granted to him with the twist of a knob from a hand that wasn't there.

The night spent in a bed, waking up to find he had become a prisoner. It seemed death was what would come to him, whether it be at the hands of his former best friend, or by his own. After all, there was a reason his room was on the second floor. Revelations come to light with the appearance of a certain green arm… wearing a familiar, black wristband.

Friendships ruined, for another reason than before. Another friend found searching for him. Both started for selfish means, but it was selflessness that sent him back into the house, even though an evil from the past threatened them once more.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

It’s not everyday that some dive into the past of these character’s lives, but what would happen if one young, scared blonde came across an ancient tree? One that was alive in more ways than one. A strange feeling washed between the two of them, a bond made from the day the blond fled into her woods to hide from the one hunting him. He came to her more than once, and yet every time he did, she sought to rest his soul.

And soon, the tables had turned. Now she was the one in need of rest, though she did not realize it yet until she got the same comfort she once gave to the blonde. His pack adopted her, and he took care of her rot. Names of a powerful thing to these beings, and they knew each other by that power word.

This was not the end of their story. The three friends and dog were reunited, of course the blonde being the one to decide to choose the home where his wooden friend resided. There’s no denying that he was still healing, but he found the courage to try and seek it for himself. The bluenette grew curious about the tree in their backyard, and the final finds an outside source to try and round his curious status.

Are you one of us?

The once ghost only turned out to be half deceased, but the hatred still remained. Whether he liked it or not, the blond was at fault; but, he had a plan. One that was sure to fix everything. Find the true cause of their misery, proof that he was just as much a victim.

It was a plan that split their group apart. The dog chose to go with the man on his search, while the bluenette stayed with their half dead friend. The hunt is on, but who’s to tell how the story is to go on from here. Will they each succeed with their goals? We shall see.

Are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

The ghost finds himself in the company of others like him. Not ghosts, but skeletons from various worlds. The logistics of how this came to pass is a mystery, though he does not seem to find these details too important. Separated from his ‘friends,’ he finds new ones in this strange group of individuals. They seem to naturally bounce off one another, though some still have trouble catching the ghost’s triggers to his anger. Thankfully, most situations involving this aren’t left to fester.

Their local hang out at Manny’s place is full of stories, interactions between these liked characters. Some funny, some more serious. Whatever the case may be, even if he’s not in the same place as most other ghosts like him, he’s found a place where he can fit in.

Are you one of us?

A prince and a noble of green came together, an unholy union that was meant to lead to a prosperous life. Perhaps, but only for one half of that pair. Concerns were dismissed, comfort was sought by an evil man from the one he supposedly loved, and the other tried to find what little comfort there was in his constricting hold. It took the support of two outside his kingdom, and two strangers that wormed into his life to stand up to the terror in his life.

And yet… even with their help… and his desire to lend his help in return…

It wasn’t enough.

A life ended, but the king came back. He was not about to give up on the kingdom he always poured his heart and soul into. Years he seemed to be alone, though one by one, four beings came into his company. He still had those that aided him in life, but now he had more to add to his family. A pink rabbit, golem, a purple imp, and a dark girl with a skull marking. Each had their own story, and a place with him.

And he would see to their safety as much as anyone else in his kingdom.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

Some characters are unique to the world, not all always branching off the main four. Of course, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some made with connections to them in mind. Each is special, and built with as much care as anyone else…

Whether it be a cousin to the blonde, gray with orange highlights rather than the way around, a darker aesthetic, but still similar style to his cousin. A tattoo pattern along his left arm.

A green haired ghost, one met when the group of friends were out together. Something seemed about ready to suck her inside, the ghost reaching out to save her. She seemed to stick with them since.

A young woman dressed in red, blue, and brown. Golden pearls hang from her neck, and a black shawl wrapped around one shoulder. A brown cat accompanying her and group at times, and one that seems to have a power of her own hidden just underneath.

Are you one of us?

Some characters branching off the core four, and even some of those that were created as their own entity for this series chose to build their stories and characters with one another. Their worlds cross over to one another, relationships naturally build, and so too do the special elements and plots to separate them from one another. Each one of them is equally unique.

Whether it be from the multitude of different colored ghosts, each of them centered around their own story and emotions.

A blue-haired girl with one strand that is lighter than the other. A snowflake twinkled in her left eye, and a roller derby team she has been dedicated to for years counting on her.

The same mechanic, though with more visible scars to the incident in the cave. So much love and care to give, even to those in other worlds, even if the gray faes take a little too much pleasure in bringing him grief.

A black robed king, living far beyond the grave, glowing locks of hair flowing through the air. He’s been seen before, but this one on another plane, a chance to interact with others outside his grown family.

Are you one of us?

This amazing group of people, as well as many others come together over a series we all love and cherish. We create our own works of art, but not without credit to the original source. From this point and on, we only seem to grow as a collective, continuing to create as we wait, and surely even after the series comes to a close, it will hold a special place in our hearts. So long as we are all here, we shall continue to spread our joy over mystery skulls animated, supporting one another, no matter how small or big someone may be.

We extend our open arms to one another, and to those new to this fandom...

“Said, are you one of us?”

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(Author’s Notes: Seriously, this fandom has been an amazing inspiration, and I’m so happy to be able to take part in Mystery March. There was no other good prompt to really do this for, and I thought this would be a clever way to give tribute to the many amazing people and ideas/stories they have come up with. I tried to keep things short and vague for some, as there are some things I don’t want to give away, so you can check them out if you haven’t. I know there’s no possible way I could get everyone, but I tried to get as many as I’ve fallen in love with and not repeat anyone twice (even though I think I broke that rule twice). Again, thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoyed this.

Credits: (In order of appearance)

@mysterybensmysteryblog, @heilos, @artsyfeathersartsyblog, and the rest of the amazing team!

@lottafandoms (Vampire Arthur)

@ectoimp (Demon!Arthur) / @providentially-demonic (The Devil and the Dead Fic)

@askmysteryskullswerewolfarthur (Werewolf Arthur)

@heilos (King Arthur)

@phantoms-lair (Mirror’s Gaze Fic)

@braveskyered (Knights Fic)

@pi-cat000 (Time Travel Idea Fic)

@thefandomcassandra (The Future Fic)

@tyigra (House of Strays Fic)

@hecallsmehischild (Rest Nestling/Explain it like I’m a Tree Fics)

@neversleepagainau

@atomi-cat (Boneheads)

@ask-twoyearsafter / @kanaiekla (The Cruel Irony of a Prophetic Love Fic)

OC’s: @nerv0usm3chanic (Lucan), @binaconfusa (Frog), @lauritanaomystery (Laurel)

RP Blogs: @splatterlewis, @lamentinglewis, @frenzys-furnace, @bluescarfvivi, @punsandfuturekingsmen, @diviinc)

#MysteryMarch2021 #mystery skulls animated #msa au #my writing #my submission #long post

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storm-driver · 3 years

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hi, i’ve been dead on here since december, here’s an explanation of what happened.

i cut off a lot of people.

and i mean, a lot. not naming names, i’m not here to start shit. but if you saw me talking about people a lot in the past/reblogging from them and i’m suddenly not anymore, you can guess what happened.

i’m not going into detail either, because that’s just asking to start shit. i’m not divulging anything beyond the vaguest of details. do not ask me about what happened. there’s friends i have already talked to about all this and they’ve helped me take the strides i needed to mentally recover.

there’s no ill blood on my end for what happened, but i cannot be around those certain people anymore. either for my sake or their’s. we didn’t have the cleanest parting, but we reached an agreement where i left and moved on. whatever they’re doing, beyond my comprehension. and frankly, i don’t care.

with all that outta the way, hello! it’s been a very long time since i’ve been consistently active.

for those worried about me or what i’m doing, i am heavily more active on Twitter nowadays. i am currently invested in ffxiv and arknights, while dipping my interests in more things like persona, genshin impact, apex legends, etc.

i started using a new name over a year ago. that name is Raine. however, Storm is still a perfectly acceptable name to call me if you so choose. i won’t take offense from either one. whatever pronouns still work for me, take your pick.

as for the state of some of my writing, i do apologise for how long it’s taken me to get back to working on AAR. that work was my pride and joy back in the day, but lately, it’s hard for me to bring myself to do anything with any kind of writing. i’ve been heavily depressed for the past few months and because of my rapidly changing interests, i can barely hold a candle to a flame for longer than a week.

i’m dealing with a lot of convoluted feelings. like realising where some of my trauma is coming from, how i developed anxiety, even some feelings of affection for people which goes beyond platonic.

times are rough in my head, and i’m struggling to work through it. i’ve given up on college until the pandemic subsides. i’m only working part-time because my workplace refuses to give me more hours, and hours that agree with my body, at that.

i lost my cat just a few weeks ago, and i’m mentally preparing to lose one of my dogs as well. there’s a lot going on with me that’s starting to make it hard to keep going about a normal life.

though, i want to address one main concern that i myself have, maybe not anyone else: continuing my writing.

AAR was a passion project that took off really fast in the KH community. i gradually needed to take on help to keep up with the story i wanted to unveil. but i’ve since cut contact with the people who helped me write it. either by listening to me bounce ideas, or helping me edit everything after i’d finished writing. i’m now working on it completely alone.

it hasn’t gotten an update in over 2 years. i released a partial update back in December, hoping that would help reignite my flame to keep writing it until it was finished. but that flame was extinguished after i had a falling out with many different people.

i don’t intend to invite anyone to help me write it. it’s a project i hold dear to my heart, and my heart weighs heavy knowing how long i’ve left it sitting there. it’s my job to finish it as i gather myself back up, and i won’t let it remain half-finished for people to find and lose hope of seeing an ending to.

i might sound like i’m taking this a little too seriously. after all, it’s just a fanfiction on the internet. what the hell am i so worried for?

it’s more...a promise. to myself and to other people who have found the fic and likened to it. again, it was a passion project to start with. nothing more than fun lil stories about characters i loved. and it developed into something i found other people enjoyed, as well. and it’s become something i pride myself over to get finished and present to others, that they may see something i poured my heart into and find they might just like it as well.

i’m not making claims or promises on when it’ll be updated next. just that it will. and i’ll let everyone know when that is. for now, i just hope my absence on writing it hasn’t come off as me abandoning the story, or anyone else. i’ve been having a rough time of it lately, and i desperately needed to reorganise myself for my own health and safety. i’ve been doing that for about 5 months now. and i’ll continue to do that as i keep working on my writing.

thank you for your time. please take care of yourself today, and find something to smile at!

#aar #stormy weather #whew that's a long one huh

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theotheroccassionalfanficwriter · 4 years

Text

Summertime Story

Summary: The Lantern Night people had come to visit town! Fireworks, food stalls, festival games! Helping Mammon pay off his debt! Underneath this festive atmosphere a single wish blossoms in your heart,

“I want this moment to last forever...”

Based on the Summer Festival Event.

Rated: T for Teasing Mammon about outdoor sex ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Tags: Established Relationship, Too Much Love for Mammon, Yearning, Love Words are: Acts of Service, Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Physical Touch, with a dash of Receiving Gifts, B-I-N-G-O.

The day had begun in a peaceful manner, and you were enjoying a rare moment to yourself in which Mammon was not particularly in need of your affection, in this case it meant that the two of you were just holding hands underneath the dining table and eating breakfast with one hand. It was peaceful precisely because Levi wasn’t making a fuss over it, Belphie and Satan wasn’t throwing an oil tanker to the fire and neither was Lucifer frowning over it.

Summer had come into Devildom and it was officially, a few months since you had been part of the Exchange Program, and a few months since forming a pact with Belphie. During that time, you had done your best to juggle time between the six of them and pursuing Mammon. It had been a rough time, since more often than not your chances either backfired or Mammon himself would end up ruining it. However with the power of love (lol) you were able to successfully confess your love with help from Levi and Asmo and now Mammon and you were going steady for a total of three weeks.

And now you were enjoying a breakfast “date” with Mammon, skillfully ignoring the other background characters (lol). You had been tuning out the conversation, focused on the rare karaage Mammon had brought home last night for you, when your ears had heard the words “casino” and “debt” come out from Mammon’s mouth.

“Eh? You went to a casino without me?” You blurted out.

Which caught the attention of the others. Asmo already had the teasing look on his face as he said, “How cute~ Hey! Mammon how does it feel like having a girlfriend that attached to you?”

“I-It’s not fair! I want someone to say that kind of thing to me too!” Levi whined.

“I love you so much!” Mammon blurted out with a red face, an apology of sorts for not bringing you out with him to play.

“Hehehe... you’re so easily pleased aren’t you?” Belphie teased you as you snuggled up and melted into Mammon’s warm embrace.

You opted to ignore him and instead told Mammon, “If you needed money, you should have come to me!”

“Oi! You understand he’s like that because you keep on spoiling him right?” Satan said, worried at how easily you spoiled his idiot older brother.

“?”

The look of confusion on your face easily told him that you had become an idiot for love. But a quick glance at Mammon rubbing your face together and intermittently kissing your face in different places made him realize you still, at the very least, had your IQ points.

“Tch! Both of your deserved each other” Satan grumbled as he looked away at the sickening display of affection.

“Anyways! Please help me out with the stall!” Mammon begged, “I can’t just use my wife’s money like that after all.”

“I’ll ignore what you just called our Master but sure I’ll help you out~” Asmo agreed.

“I’ll do the same” Beel added.

“Me too” Levi spoke through gritted teeth.

“In that case I’ll do the same and head out for the library to figure out what stall we should do” Satan replied and headed out.

“Well, it seems like you’re having fun so I’ll do the same.” Belphie said before finishing up his breakfast.

“It’s rare to see all of you this cooperative” Lucifer commented as he watched with wide eyed disbelief that his troublesome brothers were cooperating this smoothly.

“We all probably have ulterior motives though...” You replied, still snuggled in Mammon’s hold and now being fed by him.

“We?”

You hummed and addressed Lucifer’s unsaid question,”Yep. I just want to spend time with Mammon.”

Hearing this words only invigorated Mammon’s love for you further and made Lucifer torn between exasperation and fondness for your love of Mammon.

After the brainstorming session on the library, the whole lot of you with the exception of Lucifer started to practice making Candy Apples.

Carefully following Satan's instructions Belphie and you poured the sugar into the dyed water carefully. All of you watched in fascination as the sugar melted into the water.

"Hehe this feels like we're about to make poisoned candy apples~" You were amused at the thought of such mischief.

"Just be honest and say this feels like we're a couple of witches brewing poison" Satan outed your inner thoughts.

You turned your head around and gave him the kitty blep. Belphie had interrupted the fight before it could even escalate with a well-timed question,

"Should we stir it?"

"We probably should? I remember that burnt sugar tastes bad" You frowned as your brain recalled the taste of your burnt caramel pudding.

Your answer had led to Belphie to start stirring in panic. Mammon, your darling demon, in his impatience, grabbed the stirrer from Belphie's hand and began to stir enthusiastically.

"Oh crystals are forming?" Asmo looked at the cauldron, you took a peek as well and realized that there was indeed crystals.

'Ah...I messed up...' You looked sadly at the wasted efforts just as Belphie angrily asked,

"Whose idea was it to stir it?!"

Levi, your saviour, decided to shift the blame on Belphie. You sent him a grateful smile and secretly decided to pamper him a little bit more, once the opportunity arises.

"Let's just feed this batch to Beel" You told them as you took the tray away and delivered it to Beel.

"Ahahaha, you're treating Beel like a disposal unit!" Asmo laughed in amusement as he recalled all the times you had fed Beel your failed cooking and desserts that just didn't meet your standards.

You blushed as you remembered how much time the three of you had spent baking and cooking just so you could give a home-made lunch set to Mammon. It had ended in vain due to a mishap with a lower demon but you couldn't deny the happy feeling of Mammon eating the fallen spicy squid rice ball you had made for him.

"It's delicious! You should cook for me next time~!" He had teased you.

"This is just me being practical..." You hmphed at him and gently stomped your way out of the kitchen as they began to make a new batch.

When you were faraway enough to not overhear anything, Asmo chimed,

"She really does spoil all of us doesn't she?"

Mammon happily agreed, "Isn't she just the best!"

"Of course you'd say so, out of all us, you're the one she spoils the most!" Levi grumbled as he began washing a new batch of apples.

Satan hummed to show his agreement, "You must be so happy getting exactly the kind of lover you want."

Mammon blanked out for a moment before he remembered what Satan was talking about.

"I want someone who'd invest on me as much as I'd invest on them!"

He remembered the sticker you had sent at that time. Your cute and almost childish enthusiasm and your following comically rude disinterest at the following answers. It was in the early days of your stay when they were all interested in you, not as you were, but as a human they happened to be living with.

Mammon smiled softly and replied, "I am! That's why I'm doing this for her!"

Satan stared at him in shock.

You came back to see that others were resting while Belphie was still going at it.

"Anything I can do to help?" You asked him as you silently settled across him and stared into the cauldron.

"Keep me company? It's rare to see you and Mammon not attached to the hip." Belphie answered, soft smile gracing his lips.

You nodded your agreement and proceeded to talk to him about mundane stuff and the occasional gossip you would get from your succubi and incubi Tea Appreciation Club members. It was an open secret among your demons that the club was really just a front for Gossiping. And Diavolo allowed it simply for the fun and sometimes useful nuggets of information you'd tell him on your weekly report about the Exchange Program.

"Oh! I think you've got it down Belphie!" You noticed the perfectly melted candy and Belphie happily ordered you to prepare the tray of apples.

"Aye aye, Captain!" You saluted him and then quickly assembled the tray and watched him pour the candy over the apples.

The two of you watched the candy dry in glee and cheered.

“Let’s do the next batch?”

“Let’s take a taste test first,” Belphie replied as he took one candy apple and gave it to you “Here, take it.”

You gingerly took the apple and happily took a large bite on the side. You closed your eyes and gleefully savored the sweetness of the candy that worked well with the light sourness of the green apple.

“Is it delicious?” Belphie asked.

“Yep! You should have a bite!”

You moved the apple towards him and Belphie took a bite on the opposite side. Seeing him eat the apple made you laugh as you remembered the story of Eden. Belphie had looked at you in confusion and you explained,

“Bit on the nose isn’t it?”

You smiled and gestured to him, the apple and then yourself, “A demon, an apple and a woman.”

Realization sinks in and Belphie laughs lightly. “Well the apple certainly wasn’t green at that time.”

Your eyes widen at the implication of Belphie’s words however he refuses to elaborate what he meant.

The next couple of days were spent building and designing the stall. It had been fun painting the sign board, coming up with the prices just on the side of a little bit pricey without outright scamming the festival goers, flirting with Mammon, convincing Lucifer to let Diavolo drop by (Barbatos had seen through your attempt at free advertising), and scheming to get Lucifer's fan club to drop by (Lucifer had caught wind of it and you were given an impromptu running exercise). As the final preparations came to a finish, you couldn't help but ask a few questions about the festival itself,

"Ne ne Satan~" You poked at Satan's arms "Do you know if there would be fireworks shows at the end?"

Seeing your inquisitive look Satan began telling you what to expect at the Festival,

“These demons have different culture than the ones you typically see at RAD, theirs share a commonality with the human world’s Japanese Culture. An example would be the food stalls and the game stalls, the clothes called Yukata, animal masks, fireworks show and of course the Bonfire dance.”

“What’s the differences then?” You asked.

“Well...I guess the difference lies on the intent behind the bonfire dance?” Satan mumbled as he held his chin with his hand in thinking position, “Up there, the humans do the Bon Dance to guide their spirit ancestors to the underworld, in here the Lantern Night folk lights the fire to welcome those who arrived.”

“Lord Diavolo rents them an entire mountain range to use for this occasion,” Lucifer added “Though this event had always been here even before we arrived.”

“Then it’s just sad Dia-chan never got around to drop by until now~” You frowned at the thought that it took a long time before Diavolo even considered to drop by the festival until you invited him (with harmless ulterior motives that Barbatos let go).

“Dia-chan?” Lucifer repeated with a thunderous expression on his face.

“Get over it, I’m his human best friend.” You told him non-nonchalantly and wandered off to help and flirt (again) with Mammon.

The day of the festival arrived and as all of you were preparing to head out, Asmo had arrived with presents.

“Oh! Is it food?” You asked excitedly, trusting that Asmo knew your tastes by now but seeing the pout on his face you knew that any hope of having a light snack on the way was null.

“It isn’t! Jeez, why are you like Beel whenever someone gifts you something?” Asmo whined and you laughed at him.

“Because food is life.” You answered and then winked at Beel who was happy to support your claims.

“So what present did you get for us?” You asked once you had your fun and let Asmo do his thing.

“Ta-da~! Levi and I made clothes for us to wear at the festival~!” Asmo handed out the paper bags to the rest and presented yours with a flourish, “This one was specially made for you~ I had to hunt down the exact fabric and accessories just to make it come true!”

Seeing the proud look on his eyes, you happily praised Asmo and then some. You didn’t forget to praise Levi as well and happily watched his face turn red from embarrassment with your heaps of praise before inviting him to cosplay with you sometime.

“Hehe~” You hid your giddiness behind the wide and long sleeves of the soft white kimono. Admiring the detailed phoenix embroidery on the left side, while pink hand painted cherry blossoms littered at the bottom of the hems. the thin gold threads that formed clouds made it sure that the phoenix was soaring upwards.

“Thanks a lot, Asmo! I really like this!” You thanked Asmo once more before praising him for his cuteness and assured him he’d be a body breaker with how good he looked.

As each of the brothers went out to show their festival clothes, you made sure to praise each and every single one of them. Naturally, Mammon received most of your praise and appreciation, you made sure to thank Asmo once more for his nice assist.

“Mammon you look so handsome in your yukata!” You praised your boyfriend and made sure that he knew you were throwing very appreciative looks on his well-toned abs even if it was partially covered by bandages. You even patted his chest, taking the chance to grope his firm pectorals.

“Oi! Do that kind of thing at our bedroom!” Mammon lightly admonished you, as he gently grabbed your wandering hands and held you tightly against him.

“We can do it too if we find a dark secluded place in the forest...” You whispered to him and then loudly added, “You can grope me too if you want~! I’m allowing you to do so! Actually please do so!”

“Oi! Don’t tempt me here!”

You laugh at his agitation and kiss him before quickly running away with Asmo and Levi on tow.

After setting up the stall, you and Mammon were on the first shift. You watched in amazement as Mammon turned on his charms and easily sold the first two pieces of Candy Apples. You silently thanked your lucky stars that your Mammon wasn’t a ladies man but was instead just as utterly devoted to you as you were towards him.

“Hey, you should try calling out for customers too” Mammon gently nudged you to call out for customers and you gathered up your courage to at least contribute to the sales.

“Hey, Handsome!” You called out to the fox demon, “Come try our glossy candy apples!”

“Is there anything special about it?” The fox demon asked you.

Your mischief senses tingling to make a sale made you answer, “The special thing about it is that we sell it as a pair! Give the other half to the one you like and you’re guaranteed to have a wonderful event~!”

The fox demon blinked at you and hesitantly asked, “How did you— ”

“Handsome Fox-sama~ Our apples are guaranteed to help you have a beautiful memory from this event~ also seeing how much effort you put in tonight, a little luck from Enmusubi-sama won’t hurt!” You winked at him and you knew that he had fallen for your sca—sales speech.

“Then I’ll take two, please!”

“Here you go~! Two candy apples to go!” Mammon wonderfully assisted you and the two of you spent the shift doing excellent sca—sales work.

As the shift came to an end, Mammon began asking you what you wanted to do. You thought about it for the moment and said, “I want to see all the stalls while holding hands with you! And I want to see if they have fortune telling stalls too!”

Mammon blushed at your words and shyly said, “O-ok! As a reward for doing well, I’ll take you around and do everything that you want!”

“Then in that case I’d like to add that I want to dance with you around the bonfire. watch the fireworks with you at the end of this festival, and share a kiss that could lead into something else with you in a dark secluded space.” You looked at him in the eyes, conveying the seriousness of your wish.

“The-the last one might just be a bit...”Mammon trailed off as he stammered and felt his face heat up.

You made sure to show him your well-honed (courtesy of Asmo) puppy-dog eyes. And boosting up your charm just to get a sweet, passionate kiss from Mammon like both of you were part of a shoujo manga special.

“Grah! I got it! I got it! I’ll ki-kiss you at the end of the fire works show so stop giving me those eyes already!”

“Hurry up and leave you shameless PDA couple.” Satan told both of you off with dead fish eyes.

You did as Satan said and quickly pulled Mammon away from the stall to start of the date. The two of you idled around, sampling snacks and feeding each other.

“Here, have a drink. You’ve earned it” Mammon placed the cup of iced tea in your face and you took a sip from the straw.

‘Indirect kiss~ get!’ You thought happily as you drank.

“You did really great compared to how you used to be when talking to other demons” He praised you as you finished taking a drink, he tucked in the stray strands of hair away from your face and you blushed at the intimacy of his actions.

“It was all thanks to you...”

You looked away from his loving eyes, and squeezed his hand tight. You knew that most changes you had could be attributed to Mammon and your never ending desire to keep his eyes on you.

“Wh-what’s with this cute act!? Do you want a kiss or something?” He stammered and you could only shyly snuggle closer to him and nod slightly.

“Yes, please.”

Mammon leads you away from the crowd and prying eyes, the two of you were now tucked behind the stalls and Mammon’s hand was gently cupping your face.

“You’re really spoiled you know that?” He complains and yet his eyes were soft and fond of you.

You had always heard that eyes were the window to the soul and Mammon’s eyes told you everything he felt for you. And as always you couldn’t help but drown in them. You watch his face get closer to yours and you closed your eyes as his breath mingled with yours.

Mammon’s kisses would always begin in this way, soft and cautious. Always giving you a chance to pull away, even if everything in you would always seek him out, he kisses you like you were something infinitely more precious than the gems and countless treasures he stored away from the House of Lamentation. He kisses you in a way that never allows you to doubt for a single moment that you weren’t important.

He pours everything that he feels into his kisses and you accept all of it and give him back everything that you are. You drown in his love and let yourself grow weak in the knees and Mammon, your devoted demon, never fails to catch you and hold you close to him.

The rest of the shifts you had were a blur of events as your mind kept on wandering to the kiss Mammon gave you behind the stalls. It had felt different and you didn’t know why. This in turn made the situation feel like it was the start of the Exchange Program once more, and everyone but Mammon could see that you were crushing on him. The difference was that this time Mammon was aware of the blush on your cheeks, the reason behind your increased heartbeat and coquettish looks that you’d send to him.

He would without fail take his chances to payback for all of the times you’d tease him and you would take it like a champ even if you stammered or blushed your way through it.

Levi who couldn't stand it anymore got fed up and told the both of you to go PDA somewhere else.

“Be back before the fireworks show.” Lucifer said as Mammon took you away and proceeded to do everything that you asked of him.

The two of you garnered attention with your matching themed festival clothes, the dragon and the phoenix. Female demons would sigh and look at envy with the careful and gently way Mammon treated you, his doting and affectionate looks towards you made you feel muddle-headed while increasing the envy of the female demons.

The unsatisfied female demons who were single made up their mind to buy the blessed candy apples, while the ones who weren’t glared at their useless lovers and asked why they can’t be treated as sweetly as you. Thus, every demon that got criticized for not being as romantic as Mammon silently cursed your boyfriend in their heart, you were oblivious to this of course.

The two of you drank the free cup of sweet sake given away for those who got their fortunes told, and continued to leisurely walk around the stalls while holding hands. You spotted a stall selling couple charms and asked, “Can we check out that stall? I want to buy matching charms.”

Hearing the word “Matching” Mammon began walking towards the stall and enthusiastically began picking the ones that would look best for the both of you. Among the numerous charms you saw a pair of maneki neko and took it. Examining it carefully for damages, you turned to Mammon and said, “Darling, what about this?”

“Hm? What does it do?”

The vendor seeing her chance answered Mammon, enticed by the idea of gaining more luck when it comes to money, he bought it for the two of you. As all vendors of charms are to do, the crow demon lady also advertised a red thread of bracelet as a couple charm. Knowing the lore behind red threads, you shyly handed over twice the amount and bought it for you and Mammon.

Both of you thanked the lady demon and went off. You were admiring the woven red thread bracelet on your wrist, adoring the idea that you had tied your fate with Mammon. Seeing how happy you looked at something that was cheap, Mammon wondered if the bracelet you had tied to his wrist meant something deeper but he remained silent and instead opted to admire the pleased look of your face and fell in love with you all over again.

He tugged you closer to him and bent down a little bit to whisper to your ear, “ The bonfire dance is about to start, let’s go?”

Your ears reddened at the warmth of his breath and you remembered the kiss again, you could only weakly lean against him and nod your head. Mammon, seeing you so docile and practically transmitting your love for him to all demons and angels within range, made him smug. He leads you carefully towards the bonfire, and masterfully leads you to dance. Your hands clasped together, bodies close, and the warm light of the fire as both of you gazed at each other lovingly was the envy of all who were watching the dance.

You knew that Mammon was no angel, but the way the light shone upon him made him look so soft, and your love for him was overflowing that it hurt. But it was a pain you had grown to be familiar with. A small silent proof that you were capable of loving, and that you were worthy of being loved back.

As the time for the fireworks drew near, Mammon and you slipped away and headed to a spot he knew. It was up into the mountains and a secluded viewing platform that was overgrown with trees and grasses.

You glanced down to your linked hands and smiled at the realization that not once had he let go of your hand. You couldn’t help but keep on smiling, smiling so much for the whole evening that your face hurt. Today’s Mammon had made you realized how lucky you were to love and be loved by someone like him.

Mammon who was always considerate of you, silently taking care of you, and always looking out for your best interest. You recalled all the times, he’d cook for you and secretly put all the best parts on your plate, the times he’d just hang around you all day when you’d wake up with a heavy heart and body. You remembered how he had happily supported you with your naivety of saving that other version of you, how he always had your back and supported you unwavering in his belief on your abilities even when you doubted yourself.

“Look!” Mammon called your attention as he pointed into the sky.

The first firework exploded like a blossoming flower on the sky, and then came the next and the next until the Devildom sky was decorated in varieties of colored fireworks. You were mesmerized and couldn’t help but let out a soft, “It’s beautiful...”

You turned to Mammon and met his eyes, soft and utterly in love with you.

“You-you should be watching the display...” You hid your blush behind the sleeves of your kimono.

Mammon let go of your hand and you looked at him in confusion, he chuckles at your displeased look and instead brings out a velvet box. Your heart stammers and you feel blood rushing to your ears.

He calls your name softly, preciously, sweetly, as if it was as holy as his Father’s name and to him, your names was perhaps even holier than God’s. A name meant to be said only with love, a name that carried so much meaning for him. You had carved a hole in his heart and filled the empty spaces in him with your love. Your love had changed him irrevocably, remade him into a better version of him, made him unable to think of a future that didn’t have you in it and fear such possibilities.

You had made him care for you in a way that he had forgotten since he fell, and Mammon wanted you to take responsibility for it because he was no longer just the Avatar of Greed, one of the seven Rulers of Hell. He was now your Mammon, your lover, your most beloved demon, and most devoted avatar.

“Is this...?” You trailed off, not daring to hope too much on what a small box could mean.

“There is no such thing as marriage among demons not in the way humans do, not in the way angels used to have...but I can give you my vow, to love you as I always had in this obscure and inhuman way where I give all of myself to you.”

You tear up as his words envelop you and Mammon continues, ever so gentle with you as he whispers the words only meant for your ears, “Let me continue loving you in spaces between my ribs and in my heart, in the shadowed and rough edges of my soul, allow me to join you in your darkest days and happiest hours, i’ll weather the wind and rain for you...all I ask is that you give me the entirety of yourself...the bits and pieces that you hide because you think I am capable of being disgusted by you, those parts of you that you hate because it is the worst of you and you think it is ugly.”

“Mammon...”

“I don’t know how to love the way you humans do, all I know is that I love you as simple as the fact that my heart, sometime ago, without me knowing began to beat for you.”

Your tears flow, and you could only give him a choked up, “Yes.”

Mammon smiles with tears in his eyes as he slides the ring into your ring finger and kisses you on your forehead. You do the same to him and the two of you snuggle together and watched as the show slowly came to and end. You stare at his content face, and you can’t help but wish,

“I want this moment to last forever...”

Mammon blinks before his a wide mischievous and doting smile blossoms on his face, “In that case let’s start the tradition of spending this festival together from now on!”

You happily agreed and once more linked your hands together, red bracelets intertwined without you or him realizing.

#mammon x reader #mammon x mc #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon #obeymax #summer festival #obey me

58 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

Quiet Strength

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo, Ochako Uraraka

Greetings, all~! Here is my next entry for the @bnhabookclub’s Bingo Event, for the prompt “First Aid”! Kacchako stans, come get y’all food! \^u^/

Thundering howls of laughter rumbled from Katsuki’s throat as his gauntleted fist crashed through the solid boulder, sending pebbles and baseball-sized rocks sailing in every direction. Steam billowed from the magma seeping from the ultra-hot stone he had essentially liquified with the power of his explosion; the wispy white smoke kissed his sweaty, flushed face and tickled his tousled blonde locks before disappearing into the air. He yanked his fist from the crumbled rock, flexing his fingers experimentally, and hissed at the stinging pain that bloomed across his palm.

What had been the flame-retardant leather devised by the Support Course was now nothing more than a few tattered scraps barely clinging together. Dammit. Now I’ll have to submit for an upgrade. Who knows how long that crap’ll take? He scowled and shook his hand in the air. The bright pink skin wailed at the contact with the rushing wind, sending tendrils of fiery pain jolting up his arm and even into the junction of his shoulder. Katsuki ignored the sharp tingle, stepping over the destroyed piles of rocks to pick his way back down the slope to the floor of the gym.

“Wow, Bakugo!” Eijirou’s ruby eyes glittered in admiration. “You made short work of those boulders! Even in Unbreakable Mode, it took me a few hits!”

“Of course I did, dumbass,” Katsuki snorted and snatched his water bottle from the floor. He winced; in his lack of thought, he had grabbed the plastic container with his dominant hand- the burned one. The condensation littering the cold surface seeped into the singed flesh, making the raw meat there scream in agony. Katsuki only clenched his teeth and sucked down the water, then tossed the now-empty bottle into the garbage can in the corner.

“All right. You all have been at it for two hours,” Mr. Aizawa frowned while glancing at the screen of his smartphone. The gym echoed with exhausted gasps and reeked with the stench of exertion. “You’re done for the day.” Katsuki flexed his hand again, scowling as the pain rocketed through his nerves once more.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck!” Katsuki exclaimed as the water cascaded down onto his wounded palm. He hadn’t anticipated the burn would be so severe. The skin over his fingers and palm bubbled up in several blisters, already filled with fluid though it hadn’t been thirty minutes. The water, though only lukewarm, felt like lava streaming over the injured skin. Katsuki fumbled to wash his body and hair with his non-dominant hand, keeping the burning flesh well away from the shower’s thundering stream. He didn’t even use it to towel himself dry.

“God damn son of a bitch,” he grumbled under his breath as he clumsily fumbled into his sweatpants and a tee-shirt. Why couldn’t it have been his other hand? “Fuckfuckfuck!” he cried as he lost his balance and began hopping around on one foot, his leg half-caught in the thick fabric of the sweats. An angry roar burst from his throat as he slipped in a small puddle of water and fell hard right on his rump. His tailbone wailed protest, spasming the muscles in his lower back, and he unleashed every curse in the dictionary and then some as he writhed on the damp bathroom floor. The skin of his palm pulsed with its own heartbeat, sending fireworks of pain up his arm with every drum. “Fuck me.”

Somehow, he managed to get his clothes on, finally. However, now on top of the burn, his lower back was aching something terrible. He limped into the common room, ignoring the content chattering of his classmates on the sofas to instead hobble into the kitchen. He winced at the stretch as he reached up to begin rifling through cabinets for painkillers and burn cream. He was too invested in his search to see Ochako meander into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of milk.

“Oh, Katsuki!”

“Jesus Christ-! Fuck, shit, fuck, damn it, ahh!” he cursed as he jumped and slammed his burned palm on the underside of the counter. Holding his wrist, he leaned over the granite and wheezed out an exaggerated whine. “What?!” he snarled as the girl scampered over to him.

“Your hand! How did you get such a terrible burn?!” Katsuki ignored the question. Ochako’s brown eyebrows knitted together as she inspected the bubbly flesh of his palm and the clear, sticky liquid oozing from the blister that had just burst. Katsuki clicked his tongue at her simpering piteous expression.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that. I’m fine,” he huffed. He glanced into the cabinet and found that he had been groping around the Silvadene cream the entire time. With a snort, he plucked it from the cabinet and struggled to open it one-handed.

“L-let me!” Ochako insisted and snatched the short, squat bottle of medicine from him. Katsuki turned around to rest his back against the counter, watching with critical red eyes as she quickly removed the lid.

“I didn’t ask for your help, Uraraka.”

“No, you didn’t, but you’re getting it anyway,” she responded coolly, making the corner of his mouth twitch. She slathered a healthy chunk of the goopy liquid onto her first two fingers before gesturing with her chin. “Open up your hand and spread out your fingers.” Though he loathed the fact that he required aid, refusing her now wasn’t worth the energy. Silently, he did as bid. His shoulders twinged with the flexion of his burned fingers. Ochako slopped the bright white cream onto the middle of his palm, and he melted into the countertop with a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he breathed. Ochako smiled sweetly and began spreading the paste across his palm and up onto the undersides of his fingers. A cooling numb spread over the inflamed cells, quieting the piercing pain that had been pulsing in his hand since training had ended. He watched her careful motions with lidded eyes.

“You should be careful, you know,” she chastised him gently. “Even you have your limits. I know you want to get stronger, but nothing will come of pushing yourself to the point that it’s destructive.” Katsuki clicked his teeth at her, cocking his head to the side in a vain gesture. Ochako only smiled and applied a second layer of burn cream to his hand.

“You’re one to talk, Cheeks. What was that whole business with tryin’ to drop the stadium on my head, ah?” The Sports Festival had been months ago, but Katsuki still remembered their fight vividly. The way her body wobbled and sagged to the side, how she struggled with trembling arms to even bear her own weight, the glaze in her chestnut eyes as she struggled to keep her consciousness… His eyelashes fluttered to banish the illusion of the scene as she spoke.

“I have the authority to speak on it because I’ve been there,” she sighed. She stopped her ministrations to hold Katsuki’s hand up with both her own, Silvadene-coated fingertips smearing the medicine over the top of his hand. “Sometimes… everyone else just seems so great in comparison that it feels like I’ll never catch up. In that fight, I was so desperate to prove that I belong here… but it was destructive. I will grow stronger, but with time and effort, not with leaps and bounds born from destroying my body.” Katsuki’s eyes widened as he looked at her. The truth rang hollowly in him. Begrudged as he was to admit it, she was totally right. She smiled warmly up at him and then flicked him in the forehead.

“Hey,” he warned, and she giggled cutely.

“I don’t need another Deku on my hands! It’s bad enough that he’s broken half the bones in his body before the age of sixteen!” She exhaled deeply and retrieved a swathe of bandages. She unpinned the tan, thick fabric, then gently began rolling it around the palm of his hand. “You’ll get stronger, and I will too. We just both need time.” Katsuki frowned and looked away from her, debating whether or not to acknowledge the fact that she was right out loud.

“… All right, all right, I get your point,” Katsuki admitted after several seconds of silence. Ochako pinned the bandages with a small safety clasp and lowered her hands. The fabric was cumbersome around his hand and wrist, and he couldn’t even close his fist entirely. Still, the pain had been reduced to a dull ache that he could easily ignore with distraction. “Hey,” he said as she turned to retrieve her glass of milk, which still lay untouched on the countertop. When she looked back at him with an inquiring look, he blushed and pawed at his gym shorts, not really sure why he had stopped her.

“I, ugh… Thanks,” Katsuki fumbled and raised his bandaged hand. Ochako blinked at him, taking a moment to realize his gesture of gratitude, before smiling sweetly. Before she could respond, he abruptly grabbed her by the head and pulled her into his chest. She squeaked his name with her hands flapping about, not sure where she should place them.

“Hey,” he said softly. Ochako relaxed, and her hands drifted down to rest on his biceps. “You be careful, too. You think I’m stupid? I see you walking home every day wobbling like a drunk, and you threw up four fucking times at training today.” He felt heat bloom across his pectorals as her face heated up. He dropped his mouth against her hair, inhaling her scent of vanilla shampoo. “You be careful, too, dumbass. Who else is gonna take care of me when I go too far?”

“Hehe, okay,” she acknowledged with an eager nod. She pulled away from Katsuki to beam up at him with those big brown eyes that made his heart melt. Snorting at his sappiness, he lightly pushed her away, but the gesture was laced with affection. “Drink your milk, Cheeks. I’m goin’ to bed.”

“Aw! But we’re playing charades tonight!”

“Now I’m definitely goin’ to bed.” As he whirled on his heel, Ochako scampered up to hug his arm and bat her eyelashes pleadingly at him. Katsuki grimaced, but she grinned victoriously as a rosy haze spread over his cheeks.

“Please, Bakugo? Just a few rounds! You should see Kaminari’s impression of a crab; it’s too funny!”

“Agh, whatever, as long as you stop climbin’ all over me like a spider monkey!” he cried and shook his arm emphatically. She stubbornly clung to him like glue, cackling mischievously. “Come on! Let go!” he whined and pushed on her head. Finally, she relented, releasing him from her grip. “Bah, what am I going to do with you?” he growled and ran a hand through his ash-blond hair.

“Aw, Bakugo, don’t pretend you don’t like me!” she said coyly and stuck out her tongue. She gasped in dismay when he snatched up her glass of milk and drained it to the last drop. “Hey! That was mine!” she pouted and snatched the empty glass from him. Katsuki sneered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes glittering playfully.

“That’s what you get for messin’ with me, Cheeks.”

“Ya big meanie!” she snorted, then smiled and nudged him in the ribs. She retrieved the gallon jug from the refrigerator and poured herself another, then skipped to the entryway. “Come on, let’s go!” she insisted and tugged the band of his watch. He allowed her to pull him along by jerking on the device. She smiled radiantly when they entered the common room, greeting their classmates and excitedly scampering over to the sofas to begin the game of charades. Bakugo leaned against the back of the couch, watching her with a tiny smile.

In his mind, Ochako really didn’t need to get stronger. She was plenty strong, but it was not the strength of a physical kind. It was a quiet strength of care and passion. Plenty strong for a reckless dumbass like me, he smirked in amusement. As she clapped happily to Eijirou’s comical rendition of a koala, she caught his eye and smiled warmly.

Plenty strong. Nothin’ frail about her.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @sadistiks @wesparklebitch @deliathedork @simplybakugou

#bnhabookclub #bnhabookclub event #bnhabookclub bingo event #kacchako #bakugo x uraraka #uraraka x bakugo #ochako x katsuki #katsuki x ochako #ochako uraraka #uraraka ochako #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic

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yue-muffin · 4 years

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I finished Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance for the first time and wow, am I impressed. Having only played the 3DS era games and started Sacred Stones recently, I came to expect a certain range of quality and reach in terms of story. There are games that I found not overly complex but executed well (Echoes) and ones with a good premise and sloppy execution (Fates). Sacred Stones, so far, is one I find with a simple story done well. I’m not terribly enthralled with it, but there’s nothing there to annoy me either.

Path of Radiance is one of those games that takes the ‘simple/standard FE plot’ path, but the execution is brilliant, filled with both depth and heart despite the story having the same basic beats as many other FEs. I was really impressed with the worldbuilding, the character writing, the gameplay/story integration...

My biggest gripe with Awakening and Fates was that the characters were colorful, but few of them were compelling and many lacked the depth to take them beyond their archetypes. Path of Radiance did a good job making me feel that its characters all had a stake in the outcome of the battles, that they had an actual cause to fight for and didn’t just join the army just because. There is always a bit of contrivance in an FE game, but the quality of the writing can lessen or emphasize that feeling.

The gameplay mechanics change from game to game, and I find it really fun to test out the unique features of each installment and see how they influenced each other. the shoving animations are amazing

People also say this is one of the easiest FE games and I have to say, the bonus exp mechanic is probably why. I love this mechanic because of the way it allows the game to reward the player for taking certain actions encouraged by the story (like wanting to spare as many of the enemy as possible = we’ll give you bonus exp if you do). I, uh, am never doing a stealth run of the prison break chapter again though.

I went ultra vanilla and restricted myself to using only the Greil Mercenaries for this run, and I’ll leave my impressions on this post because half the fun of a FE game is building up your team.

I went with the Greil Mercenaries (+ Mia, because she joins them for the second game) for my first playthrough because otherwise I would have no reason to use both Rolf AND Shinon at the same time and Rhys would just warm the bench the whole game lol. And I was really curious to see Rolf and Shinon’s support line and actually have a use for all of those light magic tomes.

Ike: My Ike didn’t get screwed over in any stat, so absolutely no complaints other than the fact that he refused to proc Aether more than once in the Black Knight fight, making Nasir bail him out at the end of the allotted turns. I supported him with Soren because I wanted to see their support line, and have to say that it worked out really well. I was between Soren and Oscar, but it worked better this way because Oscar was always riding off with Titania at the front and Ike just lags behind unless you dedicate several units + Reyson to shoving him to the frontline. And when you’re using Mist, Rolf, and Soren, that really cuts into the units available for shoving.

Oscar: He, uh, ended up the MVP and netted the most kills in the run. Oscar can become an amazing paladin, but mine was so screwed in the strength stat for much of the early game that I had to abuse the bexp mechanic at the base to ensure he didn’t keep lagging behind. His defenses were super good by the end, and the little damage he did take was mitigated by activating Sol every other hit. Also, I have a bias for calvary units, so. Oscar. Loved him.

Titania: I...I love Titania. I love her character. She plays her role perfectly as the super strong unit who is there to support you in the beginning and falls off a little towards the end. She can still hold her own in the endgame, however, and I have no regrets for relying on her early on. There is so much experience to be had in normal mode that she doesn’t really rob anyone else of it unless you go ham and let her destroy everything. In the end, I gave her Savior so she can help deliver chip damage and save Shinon’s ass, I mean, rescue drop people.

Boyd: Super frustrating and nerve wracking to train, super hard hitter who still keeps you on your toes by the end. He is the most lopsided unit I have ever used (comparatively low defenses, speed, and skill compared to his attack and HP) but he was definitely fun and made sure I didn’t get too complacent. I don’t normally use fighters/axe units in the modern games because their accuracy is shit, their defenses are even more shit, and why bother with the headache. Once you can forge Boyd a good iron axe, though, his performance becomes more consistent. I did keep Tempest on him for a while, because I find it fun to use the skills a unit comes with, but I took it off eventually. It does help in certain situations when his hit rate isn’t so good (having the biorhythm doubled then is helpful).

Soren: I have a bias for this little asshole, lol. He’s a standard mage, basically. Kind of annoying to train in the beginning because he can barely take a hit, his movement is low, and MAGIC MAKES THE EMULATOR CRASH SOMETIMES, but if you can stick it out, you’ll be rewarded in the end with a unit that doesn’t care about how physically bulky any enemy is and can take down dragons with ease (plus, he heals A LOT because of his high magic stat even with a basic heal staff). I will admit, he’s a walking liability if Ike isn’t his support partner and magic in this game is slightly annoying because each element has its own weapon rank. He basically ate all of my Arms Scrolls because he has FOUR ranks to build (including the staff rank) and all of them have their uses, so I didn’t have him concentrate in one or the other. Although he gets weighed down by a lot of tomes because he is a twig, mine capped speed and didn’t have a problem doubling the dragons in the endgame with Thoron.

Rhys: One of the reasons I did a Greil Mercenaries run haha. He’s not a bad healer. It’s just that there’s benefit to training Mist as your main healer for that one fight later on, and having a team with THREE HEALERS is overkill (unless for whatever reason you made one of your mages use knives...). The problem is that while Soren can take a hit and Mist can run away, Rhys can do neither. His magic stat is very good though, and he was objectively better than my Mist by the end except that he wasn’t on a horse. He was really useful for the endgame since I gave him the Purge tome. Finally, he didn’t have to risk his neck to actually fight. I lowkey love his character though.

Mist: She is so cute, but mine was so screwed in the stats department. If not for bexp, it would have been a nightmare to train her and Rhys at the same time. I early promoted both of them, but getting her to level 10 was hard. Mine ended up getting magic on so few level ups, that I gave her two spirit dusts by the endgame and it was still amazingly low. Her strength stat was 13. 13!! I love the horse, though. Makes her a lot easier to use once promoted. She has no shoving capabilities, though, whereas Rhys (frail, sickly man he is) can shove like half the army. Go figure.

Mia: I love Mia. She can have my heart and run with it. In newer games I tend not to use mercenaries/swordmasters because their movement is kind of eh, their dodge-tank capabilities are not that impressive, and I don’t like relying on crits too much, but Mia was such an awesome addition to the team. It can be a bit difficult to train her in the beginning given her low defense, HP, and strength, but once she gets going, she wrecks things like nobody’s business. Would have liked to do some Wrath combos with her, but mine had Vantage and Adept and that worked just fine with a Killing Edge or a forged sword of some sort. The only issue is her super low strength cap (22?? really??) but the reliability of her crits and/or skill procs make up for that if you can get her past the early game.

Rolf: ROLF. Literally only viable because of bexp. I actually really love how they wrote his character, but what were they thinking by making him join so late, with such low bases AND his strength growth isn’t even that good (40%, less than Oscar’s). All else could be forgiven if his strength growth was at least 50% like his speed. If you can’t actually do damage, there’s no point. Once you pour exp into him like nobody’s business, he can actually be a good unit. I do really like using him, and mine got enough defense and resistance that he wasn’t a liability, but he definitely needs investment. On the other hand, his hit rates were so good that Gamble actually worked well on him.

Shinon: The racist asshole whose only redeeming quality is his relationship with Rolf. I loved their support chain, and actually I do like how the game put him on our team (after giving you a hard time recruiting him) because of how it brings an element of realism makes these characters more human, but yikes he’s potentially worse than Rolf to train because of how long he’s gone for. If you put aside the need for even more bexp to use him, he’s a pretty good crit unit. And he can surprisingly take a hit once trained. I left Provoke on him and BOY he nearly got himself killed in the endgame, but it is pretty nice to draw aggro in order to get some enemies closer for the foot-locked units to kill.

Gatrie: I miss tanks. Newer games make them so much less fun to use because they don’t tank very well (I’m looking at you, Fates...). Gatrie can’t get places fast and only laguz can shove him, but it was fun having someone who can take a million hits and soften enemies up for the others to take care of. He can’t really one round anything because he can’t double and leaves them with a few hit points left (except if he procs Luna) but he’s a worth while addition to the team. Takes a bit of bexp though, since he often doesn’t get as many kills as the rest.

Reyson: Not a Greil Mercenary, but like I was going to pass up a dancer singer who can refresh FOUR units. It was a pain in the behind to get the Knight Ring, but he does make really good use of it. He can also use the Full Guard ring so he can enter certain areas without being murdered by ballistas. I love his bird form, and the fact that frail heron man can SHOVE people who the tiny people in my army can’t (Mist, Rolf, Soren, I’m looking at you). no but really, Reyson’s character is actually really good too, I like him.

It was, uh, interesting getting through some of these chapters without a flier. Absolutely not necessary to have one, and if it was a chapter where I kind of needed someone, I just used Tanith or Janaff (the Naesala chapter was the only one that was annoying without a trained flier).

I genuinely had no idea who to stick skills on, haha. This was an interesting system where you really had to think about who to give a skill since they’re like old TMs in Pokemon...one use only. I like to have some limitations in the skill system though, unlike Awakening and Fates where it’s a free for all. I just like the more limited set of options.

#the muffin's video gaming adventures

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prolestariwrites · 4 years

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The Cadet [1]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Credo, Nero, Kyrie Rating: T Tags: Family, Family Drama, Angst, Mystery Chapters: 1/2 Word Count: 2765

Summary: Credo struggles to establish himself as the head of the Holy Knights while also juggling his new responsibilities as Kyrie's guardian. When Nero comes under the scrutiny of the Order, he must choose whose side he is really on. Set pre-DMC4

A/N: This is a two-part fic, and I will post the second half this weekend. Thanks to @solynacea for reading this over for me. Please enjoy!

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Credo drums his fingers on the table of the conference room, looking around at the other council members. Sanctus is running late, and of course nothing can begin until the Holy Father is present. The others talk amiably, some business, some personal, but Credo only nods in acknowledgment when someone looks over with a greeting. He is still not entirely comfortable here, and after adjusting the high collar of his coat he pours himself a glass of water to sip and cover his unease.

Finally Sanctus arrives, and Credo hurries to his feet with the others. They wait until he takes the head seat at the table before returning to their own chairs. He pulls his in and sits up straight, hands folded on the carved stone as the meeting begins.

They run through the typical items on the agenda: infrastructure, health and safety, reports from the records department, the sheriff, emergency services. The treasury reports doing well, with Fortuna preparing to make several investments to help with its sustainability plans. The Order has been granted even more freedoms that move it towards being its own city-state, free from the red tape and politics of the central government. It also keeps them out of the Order's business, which they are not ready to reveal to the world just yet.

Credo smooths his hands down his own report: just a brief update on their numbers and weapons. His department is not very large, and Credo has only served as head of the guard for about six months, unexpectedly nominated after his father's untimely death. He had assumed the role with a heaviness, feeling unworthy of filling his father's shoes but glad that he had security within the Order and the capacity to provide for Kyrie.

As the youngest and newest member of the council, his plan is always to remain under the radar of the others, leaving their political maneuvering to them and focusing solely on his department. Their sole task is serving as security for the temple and the council members, most importantly Sanctus himself. Credo will give his few remarks as usual, wait for the end of this monthly meeting, and head back to his office to run things as best as he can.

Yet when it is his turn, he is interrupted before even beginning. "Credo, I understand it is time to begin recruiting cadets, correct?"

He blinks in surprise at the one who spoke: Eder, the man-at-arms. Technically Credo's guard is under his department, but the defense of the temple and the council deemed important enough for its own branch. Eder and his father had not often seen eye-to-eye, so Credo also regards him with caution. "Recruitment has begun," he answers. "Applications are already in and we are reviewing them now. We will have the finest class yet, I'm sure of it."

Eder snorts. "Your first recruitment as head of the guard. Do you need assistance?"

Credo shakes his head. "I appreciate the offer, but—"

"It just so happens that I have the applications here, perhaps we can go through a few?" Eder gestures to an aide who hurries over with a large folder, and Credo watches in shock as he begins to thumb through the stack of papers. "Many of our finest young men are here," he observes. Then he stops on one and smiles. "I see my Ethan has his application in, and approved. That is excellent news."

Credo watches in annoyance as he holds up the application paper, the red seal affixed to the top corner, as the others around the table murmur their congratulations. "He was evaluated as all the other applicants," he says. "We found him suitable to start training."

Eder gives him a smile that does not quite reach his eyes. "As I said, that is excellent news. My family has been waiting for word, since your office has the list held so closely."

"I've instructed them not to give any information to anyone," Credo replies through gritted teeth.

"Well I am glad you found my son suitable." His tone is clearly laced with warning, but then Eder's brows draw up. "What is this! The Parson girls have applied again?" There is a bit of tittering around the room as the others clearly find this amusing. "This is the fifth year in a row they have applied. When will they learn the guard is not a suitable place for young women?"

"I was actually going to review their applications personally," Credo says. Eder looks at him sharply, but he turns to face Sanctus directly. The leader's eyes fall on him, his expression a cool indifference, but Credo forges on, "They are from a good family, and from what I've observed they are fine soldiers. The threat is building, and we could use members of the guard who are strong, no matter the gender."

Sanctus' expression remains its passive state, and Credo's heart rate quickens a bit as he waits for word from the holy one. But again Eder speaks first, and he must bite his tongue as he says, "Nonsense. There is no need for women on the guard. I'll be happy to send a rejection if you are unable."

Credo flushes with anger. "I don't think I need to remind you that the threat to Fortuna is growing. More and more demons are being spotted every day, and it is only a matter of time before they begin attacking. Until we figure out why these creatures are manifesting here, the emergency will only grow."

"The demons are under control," Eder counters.

"For the general population, perhaps, but I am tasked with guarding the temple and His Holiness. I don't want to risk losing either over gender politics."

They glare at one another as Credo feels heat on his neck, his collar suddenly too tight. This is an issue that he knew his father had been pressing, pushing for more equality among the ranks. He had felt that having women join the guard would be an important first step, but was stymied at every turn; now that he is in charge, Credo is determined to continue pushing for the step. So when Sanctus finally speaks, his stomach sinks with every word. "Having women in the guard will only be a distraction," he says. "They lack the strength and spirit for the work. Reject the application."

Credo bristles, trying to think of an argument. "Sir, I must… if you would reconsider…"

"What is with you, Credo?" Eder laughs. "Are you looking for more oddities to collect? Your father had a few of his own… speaking of which, here is an interesting application."

He doesn't have to wonder whose it is as Eder plucks a leaf from the pile, smiling at the document. "This Nero, he's that boy from the orphanage your father took in, isn't that right?"

Credo clears his throat. "Yes. He's not living with us any longer, the guardianship revoked when my father was killed. But I don't see—"

"I see you gave the recommendation yourself. Aren't you afraid of playing favorites, Credo?" Eder smiles.

"Not at all," he replies. "I recused myself from that applicant. But Nero shows a great deal of promise."

"So I've heard," Eder replies. "I've heard some other things as well." Credo presses his lips into two thin lines, bracing himself for what is sure to come, and is not disappointed. "He is rash, reckless, has a foul temper and fouler mouth. Does not get along well with others. To top it off, the abandoned bastard of a prostitute?" The other council members murmur to one another, and Credo stiffens, refusing to react. "Do you really suppose this is the best representative of our people? Would you trust such a young man to protect the others, protect His Holiness?"

Credo swallows around his dry throat. "It's true that he has had some issues, but if you take into account his upbringing, and the losses he's suffered—"

"Although I have heard he has demon blood," Eder interrupts.

That gets another reaction from the others, and Credo's eyes go wide. Even Sanctus sits up a bit at that, leaning forward to ask, "Demon blood?"

"Just a rumor, surely nonsense," Eder explains. "The story is that Nero saved Credo's own sister and some of the little ones from a demon attack. His strength and reflexes were not to be believed. Killed one himself, after it had overcome three of our own men."

Sanctus considers. "And we know nothing of his origin?"

Eder smirks a bit at Credo as he takes a deep breath and replies, "Unfortunately, no. It is true that he fought and killed a demon, but was hurt doing so. He is hardly anything more special than any other sixteen-year-old boy with the strength and spirit of youth."

"Killing a demon single-handedly is not something to take lightly," Sanctus chastises. "Bring the boy here this afternoon so I can look at him properly."

All eyes fall on Credo, who nods curtly. "Very well, Sir," he replies, promptly taking his seat.

He does not speak again through the rest of the meeting, until the rest are dismissed. He tries to make a quick exit, but Sanctus calls him over. "I'll be in my study. Come by in two hours with this boy. I'll be able to determine if there is anything supernatural about him."

"Yes, Sir," he mumbles, and when Eder gives him a smug look, Credo shoots him a cold one in return.

Nero is not at the orphanage, in any of his usual hangouts, or at the office where Credo has him working a few hours a day to keep him out of trouble. That only means one thing, and with something twitching in his brow, he heads to the house he shares with his sister, Kyrie. He says a silent prayer to Sparda that Nero is there on a respectable errand, and will find them sharing some hot chocolate, or even better, saying goodbye.

Instead, he stands in the doorway to the kitchen to find Kyrie pressed against the pantry, her hands on Nero's shoulders as he kisses her. He holds her in a tight embrace, his good arm around her waist, the injured shoulder still wrapped on the other side. Nero tilts his face to deepen the kiss, and for a split second Credo wonders if Kyrie is in trouble. But her hands slide up to drag through his hair, and with a roll of his eyes he gives a loud clear of his throat.

They jump apart instantly, both panting and staring at him with wide eyes. Kyrie sags against the pantry door, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, while Nero looks back and forth between brother and sister. "We weren't doing anything! Just talking! I had to bring you some forms, uh, they sent me here to uh—the forms!" Nero pats his pockets frantically. "I have them here somewhere."

"They're on the table," Kyrie manages, slipping past Credo and heading into the front room.

He turns his frown to Nero, who is looking everywhere but him, his good hand rubbing the back of his head. "Uh, I gotta get back to the office, so—"

"You're not going back to the office," Credo replies coolly. "You're coming with me."

Nero looks up in alarm. "I am? Why? I mean, where?"

"I'll explain on the way." Kyrie returns with the folder of documents, which he snatches from her hand. "We'll speak about this later."

She nods, not meeting his eyes, and Credo strides towards the door. There is a brief bit of whispering behind him, but once he steps outside Nero is thankfully right behind him, almost stumbling to stay on his heels. "Hey, Credo, uh…" he begins sheepishly. "Look, I…"

"Let me be clear about one thing," Credo says, turning to regard him coldly. Nero straightens up, his eyes widening in alarm. It's almost comical, and under other circumstances perhaps Credo would simply laugh this off, or at least just give them both a talking-to. But the meeting earlier has worn on his nerves, and the strange off-ness of the Order since his father had died is becoming harder to deny every day. The last thing he needs now is for Kyrie to be caught in some sort of scandal, particularly with Nero of all people. The attraction between the two lovebirds is undeniable, and he supposes its progression inevitable. But that doesn't absolve him from his duty as Kyrie's older brother… or Nero's pseudo-guardian.

Nero waits for him to continue, his face drawn into a wince, and Credo sighs. As much as he wants to be harsh with him, he must admit there is affection for him, especially knowing how his father and mother had been so keen on helping him. Out of all the children in the orphanage, Credo could never understand why Nero stood out so much. His charm is certainly obvious, and he once again frowns as he thinks of that charm wrapped around Kyrie's waist.

"What I just… witnessed," he says, sternly and quietly, "cannot happen again. If you won't think of Kyrie, and what her reputation would suffer, then think of yourself." Nero cringes a bit as he continues, "Your application for the Order guard is currently under review. You are already being scrutinized, and add on top of that your connection to this family. What do you suppose people would make of it if you were caught in some sort of passionate moment with the commander's sister?"

Nero makes a strange wheezing noise, and Credo nods. "Exactly. Everything you do is up for debate, scrutiny, judgment. Even what you do behind closed doors. And Kyrie…" Credo sighs. "Her future is even less certain than yours, simply for being born female."

Not wanting to say more, Credo turns and begins walking back to the buildings where Sanctus lived and worked. They travel in silence, and he can tell by the tension in Nero's shoulders that the boy is thinking deeply. Glad for it, he is relieved Nero isn't chatting his ear off; until they are within sight of the building and he asks, "Are you taking me to be punished or something?"

"No," Credo answers. "His Holiness has asked to see you."

"His Holiness!" Nero stops in his tracks, and when Credo turns, he finds him gaping. "What? Why? Because of Kyrie?"

"No," Credo huffs. "Because of your application. He wants to review it and meet you personally."

Nero frowns in pure confusion. "But why? Is that normal?"

If it had been up to him, Credo would have let him walk into the appointment innocently enough. But he makes a calculated decision and steps closer so only Nero can hear him. With his hands clasped behind his back, Credo says, "I want you to listen well. Your application for the Holy Knights is being carefully considered for two reasons. One, your background is unknown, and that is of interest to His Holiness." He hears the catch in Nero's breathing and sighs. "Secondly, your acts several weeks ago, while admirable, caught his attention. He wants a look at the boy who slayed a demon."

He peers up at Nero to find him white as a sheet. Credo's brows draw in, wondering why he is having that reaction. "Do you object?"

"No, I…" Nero makes a strange face, reaching up to grab his injured arm that is still bandaged by the shoulder. "I don't have anything to tell… I don't know who my parents are and I don't know what happened with the demon… Credo, you gotta get me out of this!"

"Get you out of this?" Credo hisses. "This is His Holiness. When he calls, you answer. You expect to be a Holy Knight and then disobey your first order given?" Nero blanches, and Credo nods. "I don't know what he wants. I don't know why he wants to see you, other than to question you. So I recommend you answer his questions truthfully and succinctly, or you will see your dream of becoming a guard, and any hopes of being with Kyrie, evaporate before you even begin."

Nero offers a weak nod, and once more they are off. Credo leads him through the maze of hallways, not pausing for even a moment until they reach the inner sanctum. Once they reach the vicar's private rooms, the guards move to allow Credo to step up and rap on the huge oak door before carefully opening it to reveal the extravagant study inside.

#dmc #devil may cry #credo #nero #kyrie #nerokiri #dmc4 #dmc nero #myfic #fanfiction #the cadet

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cinnamonzor · 5 years

Text

BrattyShipping Headcanons Pt. 2

Previous Installments: Part 1

Apprenticeship

- What, you thought I was just gonna gloss over the brunt of Bede’s character arc? Why would anyone wanna do that? It’s an awesome arc and it deserves to be shown.

- Whenever Opal’s tutelage got particularly frustrating, Bede’s primary method of motivating themselves into not murdering her was spite. While spite toward Chairman Rose became more prevalent as they grew to accept the reality of how he treated them (I mean, come on. He couldn’t even remember their name even after years of supporting them), they initially channeled their spite toward Victor and Gloria. In Gloria’s case, it was almost definitely actual spite, though in Victor’s case it was more generalized rivalry and determination to prove themselves to him (of course, they just interpreted this to be a different kind of spite).

- You know that trope that’s used in about 70% of fan-fics following Bakugou where the cocky asshole character is starting to pine for someone but interprets it as anger or something? That’s pretty much exactly what Bede goes through because they’re smart as hell but too emotionally dense to figure out they genuinely respect and are grateful to Victor.

- Since Hattrem/Hatterene is an empath, she is MORE than aware of her trainer’s actual feelings. She mostly just gives them the same disapproving look whenever they blatantly misinterpret their growing feelings for Victor. Were it not for her attachment to Bede, she probably would have strangled them at some point.

- Opal starts to pick up on at least their respect for him when he keeps going on about “finally showing him my true potential.” Being, well, Opal, she starts getting crafty and uses this knowledge to help motivate her protege.

- “You’re never going to get that boy’s attention with that sour attitude.” “My attitude is perfect! I can get his attention by stomping him into the dirt before he can process what’s happening!” “Perhaps, but where’s the fun in that? Only by channeling the essence of pinkness can you truly feel satisfaction in your victory.” “Hmm... True...” [Both looking smug for different reasons]

- Victor gave them his League Card when he received theirs (mostly out of courtesy), which they tack to a corkboard alongside Rose’s card in their new living space in Opal’s guestroom. They dub it their “vengeance board” and write motivational vows of spite on sticky notes that they tack around the pictures. Needless to say, this is one of Hatterene’s main sources of irritation at her trainer’s sheer emotional density.

- Meanwhile, Victor starts becoming increasingly unsettled by Rose in the wake of learning what he did to Bede. He begins to note occasional suspicious bits of his behavior and can’t shake the feeling that he’s not as nice as his usual demeanor displays. Oleana’s interference only serves to further his suspicion.

- Bede watches the League qualifiers with Opal, still fairly upset about not being able to compete themselves. Victor and Gloria defeat Marnie, Hop, and the other challengers to earn their roles in opposing brackets of the semi-finals. Upon watching the twins’ success, Opal and Hatterene note Bede’s notably differing reaction between, “figures that brat won,” and, “good. Looks like I finally have a chance to prove to that idiot what I’m truly capable of.” Opal finds it incredibly entertaining while Hatterene is damn near ready to break something over their head.

Galar League

- On the day of the semi-finals, Bede “sneaks” out to Wyndon to crash Victor’s impending match. Opal is well aware of their plans, but lets them without saying anything for her own amusement and as the final step in their quest to self-acceptance.

- Victor is fairly surprised to see Bede when they barge onto the battlefield, but he’s ultimately glad to see they’re doing okay. When Bede starts “pouring their heart out to him when they’ve never lost their cool before,” Victor is substantially surprised by the difference from the Bede he initially knew. He wholeheartedly accepts their challenge, even before the judges officially give the go-ahead, looking forward to seeing just how much Bede has grown.

- It was a surprisingly close match, but Victor ended up so engrossed in the battle that he practically forgot the massive crowd was surrounding them the entire time.

- After Bede’s defeat, Victor concurs with the crowd’s demands for them not to retire from battling, parroting his earlier sentiments that they shouldn’t lose hope after one mistake. It’s just not like them. Bede refuses to admit its Victor’s support that convinces them to continue their rise to the rank of gym leader, using the crowd’s will as an excuse that Victor easily sees through. He wishes Bede the best of luck in their endeavors on their way off the battlefield, which they reluctantly reciprocate towards Victor’s upcoming matches.

- Gloria grumps about Bede just lucking their way into a gym leader position, but Victor reminds her they’ve gone through a lot to get where they are and have clearly started working to make up for their mistakes. He finally convinces her to stop acting sour about it by reminding her that they are still very much being forced to put up with Opal’s antics, which brings a smug smile to his sister’s face.

- Bede continues watching the rest of the semi-final matches from the stands, sitting next to Marnie without actually recognizing her. She finds her best friend after the day’s matches are over and reports her observations of Bede’s not-entirely-concealed investment in his battles.

- After winning their way through their semi-final brackets, Victor and Gloria face off in the tournament finals to determine who will challenge Leon for the title of Champion. After Gloria ultimately claims victory, Bede storms down to the locker rooms and greets Victor with a bonk on the head and an appalled scowl as he steps into the hallway, informing Victor that they knew full well he made an intentionally sloppy call near the end of the match. Victor admits to somewhat throwing the match, explaining that he felt he made the right call. He states that the battle could always have ended up in either of their favors were it not for a couple lucky breaks, that Gloria was always more suited for the title, and that he never actually wanted to become Champion in the first place. Being Champion meant becoming the most sought-after public image in the region and regularly dealing with crowds and fans, plus it would make following his actual dreams more difficult due to the busy schedule of the role.

- Bede takes some time to accept Victor’s decision, but ultimately has no choice but to reluctantly acknowledge how much thought he put into it. When Victor inquires why Bede cares so much in the first place, they sputter about not wanting their rival to make them look worse by extension. Seeing through the tsundere act again, Victor plays along, but warmly thanks Bede for being so concerned about them anyway as he heads to watch the Championship match with Hop and Marnie.

Darkest Day/Championship Match

- While raiding Hammerlocke Stadium, Victor sends Hop and Gloria ahead while he battles Rose in the power core. As the two fight, Victor firmly calls out Rose’s shortsightedness, making a point to cite his neglectful and unnecessarily harsh treatment of Bede when it was obvious all they wanted to do was make him proud of them.

- Before Rose turns himself in for his actions, Victor has him write a formal apology to Bede, since his treatment of them was never really acknowledged in any of his other apologies. He hands it to them on their way to the stands before Gloria and Leon’s match, advising them to wait until after to look at it just to avoid any potential “unintended breaks in their cool.”

- Bede decides to trust Victor and reads Rose’s apology later that evening. They keep their distance for a bit, mostly since they know better than to crash the celebration the others throw Gloria just to talk to her brother. They have enough social awareness at this point to not show up uninvited to a party for someone who still clearly dislikes them where someone else they still have yet to make amends with (Hop) is guaranteed to be.

- They use their still fairly-prevalent roster of Psychic Pokemon to determine which hotel room Victor is staying in, writing a note on the now-empty envelope and slipping it under the door for him to find.

- As per the letter’s request, Victor heads to Wyndon’s Battle Cafe the next morning, where Bede waits to thank him somewhat less reluctantly than their other admissions have been. After Victor happily accepts Bede’s thanks, he inquires as to why Bede would go out of their way just to thank someone. Failing to deny that they went out of their way, Bede admits to both Victor and themselves that they’ve grown some sort of respect towards him.

- Victor warmly affirms Bede for their growth and restates that he feels they’ll be a great gym leader, as well as complimenting the genuine smile they show soon after. As they finish their brunch, Bede insists on finally exchanging contact information since “it’s only natural for rivals to have a basic means of contact.” Victor makes a joke about Bede asking for his number after a “successful date,” which mostly just invokes Bede’s pouty glare before swiping Victor’s Rotom Phone and plugging in their number before storming out.

- Victor ends up getting stuck with the bill, but he decides it’s worth it.

- When Bede returns to Ballonlea, Opal’s definitely connected the dots about their festering crush on Victor. She welcomes them back in her own fashion before informing them that she’s doubling down on Fairy-Type boot camp to make up for the days they were gone. Whether they admit it or not, Bede also believes it’s worth it.

- Hatterene just decides to accept their progress for now for the sake of her sanity.

Still more to come! We haven’t even gotten to the actual relationship yet! That’s like half the fun!

#shipping headcanons #brattyshipping #victor x bede #pokemon victor #pokemon bede #pokemon headcanons #headcanons #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #nonbinary bede #bede is a total tsundere #this is basically becoming a full-blown bulletpoint fan-fic #but i dont care

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hazelnmae · 5 years

Text

Lies Travel Faster Part Two: Chapter Four

Summary: Sophia Murphy’s past is coming for her. Can she outrun it?

Tags: Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Warnings: angst; smut; violence; language; rape/non-con; death

ALSO WARNING: This chapter catches us up to the events of S5 so beware of S5 Spoilers.

Chapter 4 Read Chapter 3 here

“I had a dream about a black cat last night, Pol. A black cat dream means there is a traitor close by. It was you who taught me that.”

“Black cat can mean lots of things,” Polly responded. “Can mean you're hurting yourself. Betraying yourself.”

Tommy lit the cigarette hanging from his mouth and leaned his back against the bar.

The dreams had been coming more frequently. The hallucinations more clearly. And since the news of the stock exchange crashing, he couldn’t get rid of the sinking feeling that things would get worse before they got better.

“Are you seeing things, Thomas?” Polly asked him after a few moments of silence.

“Yes, I am,” he responded without thinking. “Yes, I am. Very clearly. Coming from every fucking direction.”

Though he wouldn’t admit it, he was nervous. Not for the meeting--he’d never been nervous to face his family, least of all Michael, even if he did lose much of the company’s holdings in the crash. He wanted to throttle his cousin, was ready to cut him out of the family altogether, but he wasn’t nervous to see him.

When she walked into the pub, it suddenly made sense. The bundle of nerves that had been sitting in his chest fell quickly to the pit of his stomach.

Sophie.

She made quick eye contact with him, but promptly dodged his gaze by looking about the room for someone else, anyone else to address. She made a beeline for Polly on the other side of the room.

Michael and Gina walked to the middle. They were the focus of the meeting, after all, and Sophie planned to fly under the radar. Why Tommy had insisted on her attending at all still had her a bit flustered. It wasn’t he who requested it directly, of course, but Arthur who spoke with her at the train station.

Polly just eyed her as Sophie moved to the woman’s side. The grin on her face indicating this was a moment she’d been waiting for. For Sophie, though, this was the moment she’d been dreading.

She hadn’t wanted to return to Birmingham, not really, but she knew she had to. There was nothing left for her in America. Once and for all, she’d ended the feud that plagued her for so many years. And while that was a particular relief for her, she had no desire to stay and start over with a new life.

The truth was she was comfortable in her new line of work. Pulling that trigger and dropping Vincenzo reignited a fight in her that she’d long ago lost. Her previous life in Birmingham was a dream to her now, an odd and sometimes frightening, always disappointing, dream. A dream in which she’d lost herself. She’d lost sight of who she was--from where she came. And her time in America only reminded her of that.

Returning to Birmingham required a reconciliation of those two versions of herself. And she welcomed this.

It also required a reconciliation of another kind. One she wasn't ready for.

Tommy attempted to take charge of the meeting, almost immediately, clearing his throat and leaning his back against the bar to get everyone’s attention.

But Michael didn’t sit, not yet. Instead he walked toward his cousin and spoke first.

“Tommy, I'd like to introduce you to my wife,” Michael said, motioning toward Gina who sat at the small table behind him. “I would also like to say something--”

“Sit down, Michael,” Tommy interrupted.

But Michael continued, “I betrayed you--”

This time it was Polly who interrupted, taking a step toward them and ignoring Sophie as her focus now turned to her son.

“Michael,” she said sternly.

But again, Michael continued on, “But only in my heart. There was a time, in America, and there was a lot of money in that bank. And I wondered if I could I could leave, move to California. Someone said I should invest in pictures. Hollywood. But Sophie stopped me.” He nodded toward her where Sophie audibly gasped at the attention now turned on her. She felt her heart racing and feared it might actually burst from her.

But Tommy didn’t even look in her direction.

“I told you to sit down, Michael,” he said.

This time Michael did what he was told and the discussion quickly shifted to the real order of business, the ship’s docking in Belfast and the run-in with the Billy Boys and the IRA that followed.

Sophie hadn’t been aware of it at first, as both sides clearly focused on Tommy Shelby’s cousin rather than some woman he once knew.

She was on edge for the rest of the trip after Michael came to her cabin and informed her of what had taken place. But in truth, she was also relieved to have been no part of it. Judging by Tommy’s demeanor, he wasn’t convinced by Michael’s story and Sophie was thankful she wasn’t also in a position to have to defend herself.

The fact that she clearly meant so little to Tommy that neither side would come for her had her feeling something else, though. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. A combination of all three. She was angered and frustrated that his enemies had apparently caught onto the dissolution of their relationship quicker than she had. And she was saddened to have to face it all over again.

Sophie realized she’d completely lost track of the conversation unfolding and had no idea how it’d taken the turn it had, but Micheal's proclamation caught her attention, snapping her back to the present.

“The reason Gina and I got married on the ship was because Gina is pregnant,” Michael said. “You're going to be a grandmother,” he added, turning to Polly.

Polly was shocked and Sophie could tell it was taking everything in her not to burst into tears right then and there. She sat at the next table, steadying herself to the news.

“Okay, Michael. I believe you,” Tommy finally said. “Welcome home. And congratulations.”

He extinguished the almost spent cigarette and added, “Just remember your unborn child has witnessed what you said.”

“Thomas!” Polly shouted, appalled at the gall her nephew had to curse an unborn baby.

“And it will be born according to--”

“You fuck!” Michael interrupted, practically jumping from his chair and moving toward Tommy, who didn’t even flinch.

Sophie, instinctively, moved toward the scuffle, but Arthur made it there first, restraining Michael who held onto Tommy’s empty gaze.

“Where the fuck are you going, hmm? Are you fucking mad?” Arthur asked his cousin. “You are free to fucking leave, Michael.”

“You fucking bastard,” Michael spat at Tommy through gritted teeth.

“But you're not free, Michael, are you? You lost this company a lot of money,” Tommy replied calmly. “I told you to sell but you held on, and now I want you to pay me back what you owe me. There is work you can do, there are risks you can take. We were close before. Now I want you closer still,” Tommy said, claiming the last word.

“Michael, honey,” Gina said. “Look at your cousin. He's in trouble, huh? He needs you. Come on, baby, let's go.”

And with that, Michael, Gina, and Polly left the pub in a flurry.

“Black cat dream is never wrong, brother,” Arthur added before taking one look at Sophie and walking out the door behind them.

The gravity of the situation finally hit Sophie for the first time.

A black cat dream. She didn’t know much about Romani culture, but she was sure she’d heard about black cat dreams from Polly when Alfie Solomons had betrayed Tommy at the fights two years prior. They were bad omens. They signified a traitor approaching.

Tommy had told Michael to sell, and Michael had refused, fancying himself the wiser man. Clearly Tommy interpreted this as a traitorous act. An act of betrayal.

And Sophie questioned this herself. Is Michael a traitor? Was there something happening in America I should have noticed? Could I have stopped this? She thought.

Tommy stood in silence for a few moments, not even looking at Sophie, instead stepping behind the bar to grab another bottle of whiskey and pour himself a drink.

He nodded in her direction, to ask if she would care for a drink herself, but she shook her head to refuse the offer.

Tommy leaned against the bar and finally looked at her, drinking her in after what felt like an eternity. He’d forgotten so much about her. The intense way she could hold his eye contact. The way she always seemed to be smiling from the corners of her mouth, even when she was unhappy or upset. He’d remembered how beautiful she was, but was struck by the new air of confidence that emanated from her, as if it just added to the charm.

She was wearing her hair different, but she’d changed in other ways too.

“You look different,” he said, finally deciding to speak to her for the first time in two years.

“How so?” Sophie asked in return.

He didn’t know how to answer the question, because he couldn’t exactly identify it himself. He knew what she’d done in America, of course, always staying informed of her movements but never letting her know as much. But he wasn’t sure if that’s what had changed her.

“I don’t know. At peace?” He finally offered as much a question as an answer.

Sophie just smiled.

She certainly didn’t consider herself at peace. She was satisfied that she’d sought and found justice for her family, but she wasn’t at all at peace with what she’d done.

“I feel different.”

“At peace?” He asked.

“No,” she answered. “You know, Tommy, in my time away I learned just how alike we are, you and I. And you know as well as I do that people like us will never have peace.”

Something about what she said and how she said it cut to Tommy’s core. He didn’t want Sophie to be like him. He wanted her to find peace. But somewhere deep inside, he knew she was right. She had proven she was like him--determined, stubborn really, and unrelenting in the pursuit of what they wanted. Damn if she isn’t exactly right, he thought.

He felt like he should say something--tell her she was wrong, assure her she’d one day find peace, remind her just how much better than him she really was. But he couldn’t form the right words. So, as usual, he remained silent.

“You look different, too,” she continued after a short pause, gesturing toward his hair.

Tommy ran a hand through his hair and grinned.

And Sophie felt it in her gut. That grin.

It always did have a way of leaving her breathless, of knocking her flat on her ass when she least expected it.

She realized in that moment just how much she’d missed being near him. And she found herself frantically working out any way of remaining close to him.

She’d come to the meeting to resign from Shelby Company, for the second time. But when he grinned she panicked at the thought of leaving him again.

She cleared her throat to speak, to ask for more work, any excuse to stay near him, but was relieved when Tommy beat her to it. She tried to steady herself again.

“Clearly your work in America is finished. I've some ideas for you,” he paused to take a drag from his freshly lit cigarette then continued, “but I have plans tonight. Come to Charlie’s yard tomorrow. We can work out the details.”

Sophie just stared at him, unable, in that moment, to decide what direction she should take. Refuse, walk away for good, leave it all behind? Or agree, keep him near, risk it all?

“That is assuming you still want to work for us,” he added.

“No. I mean, yes. Of course I do," She answered quicker than she thought she could.

Sophie felt her palms grow sweaty, suddenly anxious now that she'd committed to something.

That’s when the door to the pub swung open and a slight, dark haired woman entered. She looked at Sophie first, then glanced at Tommy before returning her gaze to Sophie.

Tommy cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.

“Ah, well, you're busy,” Sophie said to no one in particular.

“Yes, we've got plans--”

But Sophie interrupted him, just smiling, “You said that.”

Somewhat abruptly, Sophie turned and made her way from the pub, not even giving him an opportunity to respond. She didn’t need a response, Jesse Eden’s presence said it all.

She’d recognized the young woman from the photographs she’d seen in the paper. Sophie wasn’t sure if she was still in Tommy’s life, as Arthur hadn’t mentioned her in his updates as of late. But seeing her walk in, the look she gave Tommy, his reaction to the two women being in the same room--it was all the update she needed.

Inside the pub, Jesse turned her attention to Tommy, somewhat shocked at Sophie’s rude behavior. She hadn’t even stopped to introduce herself.

“You going tell me what that's about?” Jesse asked, fidgeting with her gloves.

“No,” was all the response she received.

Because just then, he spotted Sophie’s shawl on the back of a chair by where she’d stood during the meeting. It was a deep green and he thought how it must compliment her skin tone. It was elegant--and it made him think of just how full of contradictions she was. Soft, feminine, full of class. A woman who could wear that shawl. But strong, tough, merciless when necessary. A woman who could drop a ruthless Italian mobster with one shot from a distant hillside. After all this time, she still fascinated him.

“Let’s go, Thomas," Jesse said, sensing he'd been distracted.

“One minute.”

He made his way across the room as Jesse walked out of the pub ahead of him. He gently lifted the shawl off the back of the chair, careful not to let any ash fall from his cigarette onto the delicate material. He held it to his nose and inhaled deeply.

It was soft in his calloused and overworked hands.

And it smelled like fucking peonies.

Tommy tossed it on the table and followed Jesse out the door.

_______________________

Read Chapter 5

Thanks so much for reading along, friends. Comments and feedback are both very much appreciated! XOXO

My lovely and wonderful tag list full of friends: @justanothershelby @evelynshelby @l0tsofpennies @sympathyfortheblinderdevil @actuallyazriel @huntersvibe @porcelainjokersmadness @julietswildchild @geeksareunique @brianaisasongbird

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fan fiction #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #michael gray #peaky blinders s5 #lies travel faster #HazelNMae

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msjr0119 · 5 years

Text

Hold On

Part 25 - A premature arrival

Nobody got injured at the Homecoming ball, they all get separated into different safe houses- for safety.

Riley and Drake had confirmed that they had feelings for each other, however Drake believed Riley should be with Liam. Heartbroken, she moves back to New York. Only keeping in touch with Hana, Maxwell and Olivia.

Riley meets lawyer, Nate Cooper and begins a relationship with him. In Cordonia, Drake begins to court Kiara.

Nine months after Riley had left Cordonia- there is a reunion, but not the reunion the friends had hoped for.

*Characters belong to Pixelberry*

If you are under 18 please do not read this series. If you do you are consenting that you are over the age.

Series warnings: Suicide, domestic abuse, swearing, stabbing, smut🍋 If any of these triggers affect you do not read!

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs

******

“So after brunch, I assume the King and Queen will want some aloneeee time.... But who’s ready for the real party? As it’s a Beaumont wedding- well sort of. You’re all invited to the after party at House Beaumont later tonight, to celebrate our sister getting married!”

Riley and Liam couldn’t wait to go and spend time alone together- with no distractions. They were now officially married. Discreetly they sneaked off up to their Chambers- informing Maxwell that they wouldn’t be attending the Beaumont bash, as they wanted their wedding day/night to be just the three of them. Maxwell was dramatically upset at first- but explained that they would all celebrate anyway.

Carrying his Queen over the threshold, Liam gently placed his wife on the leather couch. Pouring her a glass of water, he couldn’t take his eyes of her- he was in awe of her. The beauty radiating around her.

“I love you Queen Riley of Cordonia.”

Riley hearing these words still sounded so surreal.

“I love you too, King Liam of Cordonia. Who’d have thought that we’d have ended up here?”

“Not me for sure. I’m glad to have you back in my arms. The time apart from each other was torture. I’m going to love you both for as long as I live. How about a little siesta before we have something to eat?” The king smirked at his Queen, with passion and desire in his eyes.

“Siesta? Is that what they call it now your Majesty?” Oh god he’s so sexy with that smirk- I know exactly what you mean Liam.

“Of course. But I can’t promise that I won’t be able to keep my hands off of my gorgeous wife.”

*****

7 Months after Liam and Riley’s wedding ceremony.

Riley was now glowing at 37 weeks pregnant. Hoping that these next three weeks go quick, as everywhere she turned the little princess would knock everything and anything over. Getting frustrated with waddling anywhere she really wanted to invest in a mobility scooter- I am Queen, they may get me one if I ask nicely.

Liam had left Cordonia for two days of meetings in Greece the prior day. He didn’t want to leave her, but she promised to FaceTime him constantly over the two days to prove she was fine. Last night, she placed the phone to her bump so Liam could speak to his daughter. His daughter was doing backflips in Riley’s stomach responding to her daddy’s voice- he couldn’t contain the smile on his face. He was desperate to return home to his wife.

At brunch, Riley had experienced a shooting pain. She just ignored it as the Doctor said she would be expecting braxton hicks throughout the last few weeks of pregnancy. Olivia had noticed the colour drain from her face- and immediately excused herself from the table to find Leo.

“Leo, I know she’s not due to pop that thing out yet. But she doesn’t look well. I don’t want to worry her or Liam but I think the little princess is eager to make appearance.”

Leo looked over towards Riley- Olivia was talking sense, she didn’t look her usual self and she kept holding her stomach every ten minutes. Shit!

“Liv that ‘thing’ is my niece. I need to get Liam back. Try ringing Bastien and I will contact Liam.”

*****

Riley jolted up from her seat knocking champagne and food all over Drake and Hana. The married couple looked at each other concerned, as they stood up clearing the mess that Riley had caused.

“Shit!” Riley screamed in excruciating pain- holding her stomach protectively.

“Brooks? What’s up? Are you okay?”

Riley pulled Drake towards her- gritting her teeth she was tugging on his infamous denim jacket. He looked over towards his wife Hana for reassurance that Riley wasn’t going to potentially throttle him.

“Do I fucking look all right Drake... the fucking baby is coming.... It’s too early... get your best friend back here now!”

Drake stood frozen, before trying to unloosen her tight grip she had on him. His feet suddenly became damp- much to his annoyance. He assumed she had leaked a little accident due to the baby kicking her in the bladder too much.

“Brooks...Why are my feet wet? Have you pissed yourself? You need to let me go so I can ring Li.”

“My waters broke you fucking dipshit!”

Riley fell to the floor, Hana tried to comfort her, speaking softly towards her. Telling her to breathe. Drake attempted ringing Liam up, shaking at the reality the heir was about to be born- fucking pick up your Majesty!

*****

“Liam!” For god sake Leo, I’ve been gone one day- What catastrophes have you caused already? Frustrated with his older brother, he just sighed regretting answering the phone.

“Leo. What’s up I’m in a meeting!”

“Liam fuck the meeting! Your daughter is making an early appearance! You need to get back now”

“Fuck! Look after her Leo, I’m leaving now.”

Liam ran to Bastien, I’m going to be a father today- Riley’s in labour. Get the jet ready ASAP! Quickly explain to everyone for me what has happened and send my apologies.

*****

Leo ran into the room, Hana had placed a cold compress on Riley’s head, and Drake looked in pain- Riley was practically breaking his hand- his grimace pleaded with Leo to take over. Man up Walker, let a real man help- Leo muttered as he shook his head at Drake.

“Ri. You’re doing great. But we need to get you to hospital. Liam is on his way back.” He said calmly holding her hands, his eyes fixated on her.

“It’s too early Leo...” she cried inbetween screaming.

Leo picked Riley up, cradling her in his arms he carried her to the SUV that was waiting for them. Hana grabbed Riley’s hospital bag from their chambers, quickly making sure everything was in- she was excited and nervous for her friend.

“Good luck Ri. We can’t wait to meet our niece. We will all meet you at the hospital. Love you.”

****

Arriving at the hospital, Leo was blinded by all the flashes in front of the car. The press were camping outside the hospital grounds, how they found out Leo didn’t know. He was furious. He demanded that the royal guards find another discreet way into the hospital. Riley looked exhausted already, he was hoping Liam would get here as soon as possible- to be the strength she required to get through it. Leo carried her into the private room, he didn’t want to waste time in waiting for the staff to get her a wheelchair. Placing his sister in law gently on the bed, he asked if she needed anything. I need Liam more now than ever. Leo’s heart sunk- he felt guilty for abdicating especially now in this situation. He wished that a bit of his bad influence had rubbed off onto Liam and for Liam to refuse his duties for once in his life. If Liam missed the birth of his first born, it would all be Leo’s fault. Right now he needed to stay strong for Riley.

“Your majesty, you are about 6cm dilated.”

6cm- that’s good. Hopefully it’ll go slow, give Liam time to arrive, Leo thought. Riley held onto her brother in law for dear life. He didn’t know what to do. She was swearing, she was in pain. At every contraction she would inhale the gas and air- it was taking the edge off the pain rather than blocking it. Even though she was feeling lightheaded - Leo was so proud at how she was coping. He now knew how Drake must of felt because she was making his hand turn blue. Did he care? No. She was providing him with a beautiful niece and an heir to the throne.

****

It had been three hours since they had arrived at the hospital. Liam was still nowhere to be seen. In the back of Leo’s mind, he was furious that Liam had to go for meetings in another country weeks before the birth of his first child, he couldn’t shake this constant thought away. He was knocked out of his trance when he heard a defeated Riley try to talk to him.

“Leo, I can’t .... I can’t do this.”

“Riley you are doing brilliantly. Liam will be here soon....”

Before he could continue the doors swung open, Liam ran upto Riley, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead- holding her clammy hand, he was trying to control his breathing after running into the private wing.

“Thanks Leo. Riley I’m so sorry I knew I shouldn’t have left you.”

“You son of a bitch! You are coming nowhere near me again... I’d have committed treason if you didn’t arrive in time....”

The two brothers looked at each other with worried looks - both gulping. Leo decided to leave them to it. His hand needed a break- and he didn’t want to be in the firing line of Riley’s aggressive insults.

“Riley. I’m here now. I love you.”

“I’m sorry for.... for... calling you that... I love you too my king. Arghhh.”

*****

“You’re majesty, one last push. I can see the baby’s head. Just one more, I promise.”

Riley was lacking energy, she was uncontrollably sweaty, out of breath. Liam had been supporting her as best as he could and she was grateful. One more push and she would be holding her daughter in her arms.

After one excruciating long push, the room was filled with tiny cries, Riley flung her head back- as the midwife weighed the baby. Relieved that it was finally over, she gave her husband a stern warning.

“Liam, I swear to god. You do not touch me ever again. I’m not going through this again.” Liam shook his head, ignoring her as he fixated his gaze on his daughter. Kissing and hugging his Queen, he was so utterly proud of her. Tears ran down his cheek, he didn’t care- he was overwhelmed with the view in front of him.

“Riley, she’s absolutely beautiful. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”

The midwife brought the princess over to them, she weighed 6lb 9oz. She had sparkling baby blues like both her parents that kept fluttering open every so often accompanied by a jet black head full of hair. Riley laid her on her chest- having that mother/daughter skin to skin bond. All the pain she had disappeared as if it never existed. Stroking her daughters cheek, she had fallen in love instantly.

“Hello, my little girl. You have given us all a shock. I think Uncle Leo and Uncle Drake have both received broken hands because of your premature arrival. But I’m sure they’ll both forgive you. You are beautiful.”

Riley placed a kiss on the newborns head, Liam was just in awe seeing his two girls together for the first time. Grateful that he was able to make it in time. Liam held his daughters tiny fragile hand, she wrapped her hand around her father’s finger.

“She’s already wrapped around your little finger Li.”

“Riley, she’s... she’s a mini you. She’s beautiful. Daddy loves you so much our little miracle, our princess. You have completed our family. Daddy’s little girl.”

Riley smiled at Liam’s affectionate emotions towards their daughter. Moving up the bed so Liam could join them, the three of them snuggled close together. After all the shit they had been through, fate brought Riley and Liam back together and they had finally become a family.

The King and Queen Of Cordonia, would like to announce the birth of Her royal Highness Princess Ayah Rhys of Cordonia.

Weighing 6lb 9oz... born at 3.57pm.

We would like to congratulate the couple on this fantastic news. And we look forward to officially meeting our princess.

Ana De Luca - The trend

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #liam rhys #leo rhys #liam x riley #drakewalker #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #hanalee #trr hold on

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 5 years

Text

Everything Awesome about COIE Hour 2

STILL GEEKING OUT

We start off...by pouring one out for Oliver. RIP, Ollie, you will be dropped in a murky pit of standing water at the bottom of an abandoned mine missed!

And of course Kara wants to save EVERYONE and refuses to give up, even in the face of death and cosmic destruction.

PARAGON OF HOOOOOOOPPPPEEEEEE

“I promised my crew no more crossovers.” Oh, Sara. Sweet, naive Sara.

I also love that Lyla’s like, ‘I don’t need your crew, just one part of your ship.’

“You had me at beer.”

Speaking of Mick, we then get the BEST SCENE, which is Baby Jon interrupting the Monitor’s Weighty Exposition, and the heroes just. Passing him down the line.

That’s exactly the kind of characterization I crave, re: Lois and Clark. They’re both just like. Completely fine with 1.) Having their baby here for this Big Important Super Hero Meeting on board a space-and-time ship, 2.) are equally fine with their kid potentially interrupting the guy and 3.) they’re chill with having Heatwave babysit.

So the Paragon thing, as far as I can figure, is unique to the CW crossover, and I Dig It.

(Do I Dig It because Kara is the Paragon of Hope? Absolutely. Would I like the Paragon idea if she wasn’t? Hard to say!)

(I am Biased, I admit it.)

Anyways I just gotta type it out again: KARA ZOR-EL, PARAGON OF HOPE.

It’s what she deserves.

Ears perked up at ‘Tome of the Guardians’ b/c I wondered if that was a reference to the Guardians of the Universe, AKA, the Oans, AKA, the creators of the Green Lantern Corps.

(They were kind of a huge part of Crisis but the Arrowverse is lacking in the way of Lanterns so. WHO KNOWS.)

And then Kate’s like, ‘Who wants to meet Batman?” while the Batman theme plays and. My comic book nerd heart is just. Filled with joy.

Kara at the computer console, searching for Argo and Earth-38...

I...sad.

And then Lex comes and Kara’s ready to SMITE HIM WHERE HE STANDS but Monitor’s like, ‘No.’

(Jon Cryer continues to be an excellent Lex, he’s the kind of villain ya just LOVE to hate.)

Then a lil chat between Kate and Kara

“That’s dark even for Gotham.”

The beginnings of the Lazarus Pit field trip plot! I like that it’s centered on Sara and Mia.

(We’ll come back to that later.)

A very sweet Barry/Iris moment, nice, nice.

And then we're on Earth-99! Kara’s ‘Afraid of yard work’ line = A+

The whole front door scene is great too.

“Can I just...?” *effortlessly destroys door*

Over on Earth-75, Lois and Clark hunt for the PARAGON OF TRUTH only to discover that Lex is on the loose, murderin’ Kryptonians.

And then we get the DEATH OF SUPERMAN REFERENCE which is EXCELLENT, in terms of nerdy easter eggs, but devastating, because a CLARK HAS DIED.

And then I *think* we’re back with Old Man Bruce? Maybe? I don’t have it written down in my notes but regardless, I’ll take a moment to express my appreciation for the fact that in CW-Land, it’s an old version of Batman that goes off the murderous deep end, not Clark! There are so many Dark Superman stories, but CW Crisis is like, ‘NOPE. Look at all these good Clarks!’

I mean, did I kind of want Kevin Conroy to be a heroic Batman? Sure. But we got Three Good Supes so I’m okay with it.

Also I enjoyed his Old Man Bruce growl-y voice, so that was good.

And then, Smallville Earth! 167, I think?

(I’ve given up trying to keep track of the designations)

I have to admit, Smallville was always a little too...’CW teen drama’ for me, so I don’t have the emotional attachment that many other fans do. I can’t really weigh in on it, from that perspective.

(I’m way more familiar with the Season 11 comic.)

But, the cameo does seem to be in line with what I’ve read about Tom Welling, who kind of always seems like he wants to be done with the show.

So in that sense, I’m glad he’s sort of had his ending. Like Harrison Ford in Force Awakens. Minus the patricide!

And, this is perhaps weirdly specific, but I like that this Clark has daughters!

Also enjoyed Smallville Clark punching Lex in the face.

Oh, wait, can’t forget Lois’ line! “[Or he’s] the buff guy on paper towel rolls.”

Mick soothing baby Jon with a self-published romance novel is delightful.

OOOOOH and then at the Daily Planet! The Lois and Clark theme! (Not the TV show, Lois & Clark theme, but the John Williams, Lois and Clark theme.) T’was lovely!

Back to Gotham, and Kara Danvers! In the Library! With the Glasses!

It was a grim reveal. It was great.

I like that Kara’s right, in that Bruce is not the Paragon. I worried that her mistrust would be unfounded, or that it would be like, another Lex situation, where the dude is clearly bad news, but folks shrug it off for the sake of the multiverse.

Nope. Kate is like, 1000% ready to side with Kara and let the dude fry.

(That’s dark, even for Gotham.)

(Just gonna. Try and slip that into casual conversation.)

(Also HEY Burton Batmobile under a tarp in the batcave!)

Then there’s the whole SUPES vs SUPES battle and it’s fine? It’s fine. But I like the character stuff a whole lot more.

FOR EXAMPLE: Lois’s little, “Come on Honey, you got this.” And taking Lex out with...a paperweight? I couldn’t really see. Either way, GOOD!

Also Lois and Iris getting the book and Lois saving Donner!Clark with the POWER OF LOVE!

SUPERMAN RETURNS HEAT VISION! WOO!

(So the Blue is unique to Earth-38 HMMMMMMMM. Cool.)

Alright circling back to the Lazarus Pit Field Trip!

Sara and Mia finally coming around, getting along. GOOD, YES, GOOD.

“I miss Ollie too.”

Sara giving Jonah Hex his scar.

Also they just...have Oliver’s dead body? ...O...kay....

And then they dunk him, and he’s under there for a while, and ALL SEEMS LOST until he LEAPS FORTH FROM THE WATERY DEPTHS.

Oliver, you poetic, noble land-merman.

So now they’ll have to FIGHT FOR OLIVER’S SOUL.

Which I’m already WAY more invested in, than any fight for Lena’s

I’m sorry I’m not usually so MEAN to fictional characters but I’m so done with her and her NONSENSE.

Back on the Waverider! Ray and Clark!

Also, Lex in a cage! And he does a curtsy! It’s great.

Kara: Ray, you’re looking jacked. Clark: HE IS YOUR COUSIN.

“Huh.”

Kate was a Paragon all along! I appreciate that the Monitor is like, ‘THE MULTIVERSE IS DYING...but you needed to learn that the courage was inside you, here, have a side quest.’

Then we end on another Hope Speech from Kara but like, tailored to Kate.

“Do these things even work on you?” “Not really.”

KARA’S GONNA SAVE EARTH-38, EVEN IF IT KILLS HER...or drives her insane a la Superboy Prime but whatever, it’s fine, this is fine, it’s fine.

And then HARBINGER AND THE ANTI-MONITOR!!!!!!! Get ready for some MIND-CONTROL and BETRAYAL, Y’ALL.

In conclusion! A quieter, more ‘feelings’ heavy episode, but I liked it! I like how they integrated the cameos, and that the ‘three supers’ left in the crossover are Clark, Clark, and Kara.

And that’s it for Hour 2! I had a belated thought on Hour 1, but it’s SG specific...as in, specific to the season-long arc, not really the crossover:

I had mentioned, in my prior post, that I couldn’t stand Lena and her pettiness. (Still can’t.) BUT, I realized that it was good that Lena was a huge jerk about the whole thing, because she absolutely saved billions of lives with the portal, BUT. She behaved so badly that there’s NO WAY they can use it as a redemptive action on her part.

And also, she got the portal working thanks to Alex, so. There’s that too.

#stranger speaks #COIE spoilers #crisis on infinite earths spoilers #DCTV #long post #SG post

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celinamarniss · 5 years

Photo

Oh my god, so many asks! I love you and I hate you.

(Thank you, I love you)

From this meme. Long, so behind a cut:

For evilmouse:

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

I’m going to address characters that I have written, and not those that I’ve completely avoided writing. There are definitely characters that I refuse to write at all because I dislike them or simply find them uninteresting. If I despise a character, I’m never going to write for them (the exception to this might be Boba Fett, who showed up in a story. I was nicer to him than I expected, but he was still a long way from the Boba of the movies).

I’m going to say that the character I’ve enjoyed writing the least is Vader. I’m sorry, I just don’t care about Vader. He’s a classic character, and I know that a lot of people are invested his story, but it just doesn’t interest me. Unfortunately, he’s such a major part of the saga I’ve ended up putting him in a couple of stories. He’s in one of my WIPS, and I am not looking forward to writing for him. Writing his scenes in Legacy was like pulling teeth.

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

Well, someone just started wrote a story based on a story I wrote, and is there a bigger compliment than getting fic of your fic???? I’ve heard that several other people want to write in that ‘verse and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

40) Do people know you write fanfiction?

I keep it a closely guarded secret from most people in my life, but a few rl friends know. All of those friends are fandom people, who “get” fic. They’re not in the same fandom, and they haven’t necessarily read my fic, but they’re kind and supportive.

For jadedjo:

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

I refuse to say that I have any WIPs that I’ve totally abandoned, because I always hold out hope that I might return to the idea one day. However, if I can’t figure out the tone/plot of Experiments this year I might give up on it. Experiments was my “Mara coming to terms with her horrible childhood” fic, in which she investigates the Hand program post-TTT. It felt like a big idea and I was intimidated by it, so it’s remained on the back burner for years. It might be an idea whose time as passed. I need to look at what I’ve written and decide if I can pull a story out of those fragments, or if they should just be cannibalized by another fic.

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Everyone in the fic whining circle, of course!

The fearlessness evilmouse shows in tackling new ships and ideas, ThreadSketchy’s clear and precise prose, the emotional and thematic depth of frangi’s stories, KLC’s dedication and drive, atamascolily’s engrossing worldbuilding, the angst of JediDryad’s Counterpressure series, and JediMordSith’s vivid and emotionally charged writing.

Of all your stories, I particularly admire The Void. It’s tense, grim, and surprising, and you impressed me with your whole cast of OCs.

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

POUR AWAY THE OCEAN. I know exactly why it isn’t popular and I can’t blame anyone for skipping it, but it’s my little unloved baby that I always want to champion because it will never be anyone’s favorite.

For door:

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

Huh. This is kind of a complicated question because I used to write this long private series of stories for a couple of friends that featured highly fictionalized versions of ourselves in any movie/tv show/book series of our choice. Our own personal reader inserts as over-the-top chaos agents in silly stories that poked fun at genre tropes. I LOVED writing those stories. They were private stories that have never seen the light of day.

I don’t write those stories anymore. I have several OCs that are very dear to my heart, and I enjoyed making them up, but I have to say that writing those stories about a trio of terrible fictionalized personas will always come first.

4) What is your favourite genre to write for?

Most of my fic are some version of a space adventure, given that I’m writing Star Wars, but breaking that down into further categories, I tend to write romance, smut, action, comedy and feelings. I think my favorite is comedy, actually. Working out a joke or a bit of comedic timing is just so satisfying. I’m sure my sense of humor doesn’t appeal to everyone, but at least I amuse myself.

I like writing jokes into non-comedic stories and a lot of my stories are pretty light and amusing, but the pure comedy stories I’ve written are: SWAK, The Punch of Supreme Friendship, Common Hazards of the Penumbra Sector, and parts of The Death of Jabba.

10) In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind?

I guess I could have killed off Ralrk in Monster Stories, but I didn’t want to be that cruel. It would have been a real bummer ending.

I can’t think of any radically different alternative endings that I considered. Mara/Karrde wasn’t going to be the endgame ship in the Legacy series, but writing The Family Business made me too invested in that relationship to let it go. But it could have remained a casual relationship if I had ended Family Business differently.

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

I started outlining a companion to Wizard of the Dune Sea but got distracted by other things. I hate abandoning a fic idea and I do want to go back and write it. I just need to make time and space for the story. I always meant to do a fourth story in the Non-Zero-Sum Game series, but never figured out the hook. It might be too late now for that series, but you never know.

43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?

WELL. Wizard of the Dune Sea was supposed to be an experiment in how much I could keep the audience guessing, but the audience already knew what sort of stories I write, and I had the character names right there in the Ao3 tags, so they were on to me from the start.

#meme #process

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emotionalgirl101 · 6 years

Text

Question | Chapter 3

Words: 2,241

Genre: college au, angst, fluff

Pairing: SKZ x reader

Summary: Your best friend, Minho, had been refusing to introduce you to his other group of best friends for months now, with no explanation as to why. One night after getting drunk after work together, he gave in to your pleas. Oops.

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language, violent themes, etc). Drinking is mentioned for all the boys but Jeongin.

A/N: SORRY IT’S LATE!! I’M ON HOLIDAY AND DIDN’T GET A CHANCE TO POST ON TIME! So, this chapter is more of an in-depth explanation of some of the character profiles. The main storyline will be hinted at here, but Chapter 4 is when the fun really begins. This chapter is necessary, though! Thanks for following so far <3 You bet Chan’s gonna be called daddy eventually after that vlive omf-

-------------------------------

“Hey Dad!”

You almost choked on air at Seungmin, quickly sipping from your glass of water to cover yourself. Chan chuckled awkwardly, running his hand through his hair again. “Chan, Y/n. Y/n, Chan.” Woojin helped move the conversation along.

Chan took a place beside Minho, about to join in the conversation, when Hyunjin let out a whine about being hungry. The boy had been so wrapped up in your arrival, they had forgotten all about their chicken and beer. Woojin quickly span around. Tea towel in hand, he open the oven door and retrieved the fried chicken. The heat from the oven was warm enough to keep the food hot, but for so much as to keep cooking it. At least someone had brain cells, you thought to yourself.

Chan instantly moved to help the eldest roommate. He grabbed the plates and serviettes, even one for you without asking. Seungmin followed with beers from the fridge. Minho took it upon himself to grab a drink for Jeongin, as well as some glasses, which you helped to carry. Woojin trailed behind with his chicken masterpiece.

You all sat on the floor of the living room around the low-sitting coffee table. After a quick thank you to Woojin, the majority of the boys couldn’t control themselves. They launched into claiming chicken before it was all gone. Minho grabbed you some, saving you from having to fight with the younger kids. Woojin’s voice could be heard over the ruckus, “Calm down! There’s enough for everyon-“

“We’re just starving!~”

“Hyung, that was my piece!”

You laughed at the sight before you, eyes quickly connecting with Chan’s across the table and over the site of loose limbs. He was waiting out the carnage, trusting his friends to at least leave him something. You both just smiled and shook your head.

The room became calm, boys chewing on their chicken, blissing out at the delicious taste. Chan began to poor the drinks, Woojin pouring the soda Minho had grabbed for the Maknae from the kitchen.

“Well,” Woojin began, after finishing a mouthful. “Seems we forgot about the contest.” The looks that fell over the other boy's faces were priceless. They had all frozen, looks were exchanged. Some mid-chew, some about to stuff their face. An ‘oh’ was heard from the other end of the table. Minho replaced the cup of beer that was just against his lips back onto the table. Woojin burst into laughter. You joined soon after. They all ended up smiling, and you took the opportunity of silence before you could talk yourself out of it.

“How did you guys all meet?”. You did not expect for such a simple question to have such a complicated answer. All the boys ended up chipping in, but Woojin lead the dialogue. “I own this place. Well, my parents do. They would let me live here, as long as I had some other roommates. This was an investment for them, but they knew uni students don’t earn that much, so they made it so that the rent was relatively cheap. So, I posted an ad-” “Which is how we met.” Chan chimed in, “We were both starting uni at the same time, and I was looking for a place to stay.”

“We still had plenty of rooms, so I left the ad up.” Woojin continued, when Jisung interjected, “Not expecting all of us to apply.” Hyunjin and Felix laughing at the slight redness of Woojin’s face at the comment. “By the looks, that’s a no.” You smirked. “Why did you except them although?” You were genuinely curious, letting your smirk dissipate. “Yeah, hyung. Why did you let him in.” Jeongin pointed shamelessly at Jisung, who was not ready to be attacked. “What do you mean ‘why did you let him in?’-“ He was exasperated, Hyunjin giggling while holding the boy. You were almost in tears at his reaction, as was Seungmin beside you. He leaned over to high-five the youngest on his left.

“Hold on, hold on. Hear me out.” Woojin chuckled. “Yeah, hyung, tell him why you let me in. Because of my personality, wasn’t it?” Jisung piped up, still genuinely offended. His words seemed to be aimed at Jeongin more so than Woojin. Hyunjin’s arm was still around Jisung’s neck, his other hand pushing against his chest so he’d settle down again.

“Actually, it was just because we had the room.” Woojin smiled honestly, but it didn’t have as comforting an effect on Jisung. His jaw was slack, staring at his oldest hyung as if to say ‘Seriously? You couldn’t even just lie?’. Hyunjin was doubling over in hysteria, leaning on the victimised boy. Changbin chimed in, “Yeah, that makes more sense.” Jisung looked at the guy beside him in disbelief. “Seriously?” Changbin was trying to control his chuckling when Chan piled on. “Yeah, the rent is pretty much the only reason we keep you around.” Changbin unfolded his arm, his hand hiding near Chan’s thigh, when Chan’s hand connected with it in a high-five.

Jisung was visibly distressed, part of him knowing it was all in good fun, but he couldn’t hide his raw emotions. He was looking around at the other members of the circle for help, eyes settling on Minho as he began to speak. “Maybe we should just kick him out now, since he knows.” He suggested, while looking around the group. “I’m happy to pay the extra rent.” Jeongin raised his hand. “Me, too.” Seungmin quickly followed suit. “Me, three.” Felix seemed genuinely too keen.

“Fine! I see how it is.” He shrugged Hyunjin off, as he began to stand. “I’ll just leave now, then.” He huffed. Without thinking, you defended the boy, but the way you went about it was heavily influenced by the amount of alcohol you had consumed by that point. “No~, Jisung! I love you!~ Stay~!”

You felt Minho’s leg that was brushing against you stiffen. Just for a split second. You didn’t think too much of it in the moment, and you missed the look he shared with the boy standing in front of you.

Jisung didn’t seem to make a big deal of it, continuing with the jovial manner held by the rest of the room. “Thank you, Noona. At least someone cares.”

“She probably just feels sorry for you” Changbin struggled to say under his breath, causing laughter to erupt once more. Minho included, but not whole heartedly.

You took the opportunity to get to know the boys. The alcohol was a great aid in breaking everyone’s walls down. “So, are guys at uni?” you asked before taking a long sip from your cup. Chan took it upon himself to refill it for you, when Woojin answered first.

“I’m at the same uni as you two.” “But you won’t see much of him. He’s post-grad.” Minho interjected, followed by a swig of beer. “Unless you go to the law library...” He trailed off to let Woojin continue, slinging his arm around your shoulder. You leaned into him, habitually, listening to Woojin as intently as your tipsy self could. “I work there. So, if you ever need a hand with library things,”

“You’re my guy.” You continued, shooting a lazy finger gun. His laugh was endearing and genuine. “And you?” You turned your attention to Chan. He had his knee up and almost tucked into his chest, elbows resting atop their cap and hands grasped. He looked up to you, a small smile appeared before he spoke. You didn’t miss it, though.

“Me?” He shrugged. “Just post-grad, I guess.” Changbin shoved his elder half-heartedly with his shoulder. He was sitting similarly, meaning he needed to lean into him to execute the move. “Don’t be so modest, hyung.” He smiled at Chan, then directed his gaze to you. “Channie hyung here is at a Music Academy. He was that good at production, they snatched him up themselves.” Chan blushed at Changbin’s boasting. “I also work at their on campus music store. When I’m not there, I’m here.” He looked up at you, again. Minho shifted.

After a brief silence, Seungmin spoke up. “I also work at the university. I do extra work for professors and researchers who don’t have the time. Digging through archives and what-not. They need the extra pair of hands and it pays well.” He smiled, genuinely proud of his work and his love for what he does. “It’ll be easier now that I’m starting uni there this year. Along with there rest of these guys.” He shared a smile with Hyunjin, who’d draped his arm around Jisung once again. “It’s not like you don’t live there, anyway.” Jeongin teased, earning a few giggles and a gentle push from Seungmin.

“What about you, Jeongin?” You leaned forward, with as much slack as Minho’s arm gave you, to peer at the boy. “I thought you were a bit young to start at uni yet.” You smiled gently, hoping to make it obvious that there was no malice behind your words. Jeongin seemed satisfied by your intrigue, not hesitating to answer.

“I dropped out to pursue my passion. I knew that I had to take an alternative pathway to get there after high school, anyway. Why waste the time.” He continued, “I wanted to study , and the only way to do that was to move out here. My parents were supportive, and I’m very grateful for that.” Your heart dropped. Your face didn’t hide it. Jeongin just smiled, words aimed to reassure you. “I miss them a lot, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices for what you want. I still see them, and Woojinnie hyung’s cooking is almost as good as home. I’m happy here.” You reached out your hand to the boy, and he took it, no questions asked. “You’re so brave.” You smiled sadly, squeezing his hand before letting go. You settled back into Minho’s warmth.

You we’re about to ask Jeongin how he was supporting himself, but a loud snore interrupted your thoughts. Felix’s head was resting against the couch, the poor boy knocked out from the large chicken meal he had looked forward to all day. Those awake chuckled, eyes endearing.

“Wow, it’s half past one. No wonder he’s passed out.” Chan stared at his watch. Without thinking, Woojin and Chan began to clean up, carrying the nearly clean plates and beer bottles from the coffee table in the centre. The rest of you got up, some stretching, while others rubbed their eyes tiredly.

“You’re not going home at this time of night.” His tired voice said, before you could even think about reaching for your things. Minho’s arm was still wrapped around you. He pulled you in for a sleepy hug. You didn’t resist. Nor did you feel the number of eyes settling in on your conversation. “You can sleep in my room. I’ll grab you some clothes.” He took his leave, and his warmth disappeared.

Seungmin approached you. “Innie and I are heading to bed. Good night, Noona.” He gentle wrapped his arms around you for a small, tired hug. He let go of you, Jeongin taking his place. “Night, Noona~” He yawned into the hug. You smiled, ruffling his hair.

Chan had left Woojin in the kitched, moving back towards the living room. “Good night, Y/N. It was nice meeting you.” He smiled softly. His warm embraced didn’t help your tired eyes stay open. He untangled himself from you moments later, turning and scooping a limp Felix up in his arms. “Night, Felix.” You softly hummed under your breathe, waving as Chan hauled him into what must have been his room. Jisung couldn’t hid the soft smile you brought upon his face. He made his way to you.

“Good night.” He sighed into your ear, as he rested his head on your shoulder. His body grew heavier, and pretend snores sounded from him. “Jisung~” You whined playfully, still not quite sober. He snuggled into your neck before lifting himself off of you. Sober you would’ve noticed his hesitation in pulling away. “Sleep well.” He looked at you shyly, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked away.

Changbin was already next in line, “Night Y/n-ah.” He gave you a quick hug, missing no worth or comfort in the small action. He took off after Jisung. Hyunjin hugged you, no words needed. “Night~” you sung as he left you with a small smile.

Woojin had finished in the kitchen, hugging you to say good night, just like the others. “Welcome to the family.” He smiled. Then, turning off the lights, he walked down the hallway. You heard a door close.

You were alone in the darkness for a minute. You didn’t feel alone. You didn’t feel sacred or unsafe. You felt like you were, well, home. Cheesy, but true. You felt warm and happy.

You felt his arms slid around the sides of your waist, locking together infant of you. A chin on your left shoulder. “Bed time~” Minho sung. He handed you the shirt he had slung over his shoulder, for you to use as a make-shift nightgown. He took your hand, and lead you to his room. An extra glass of water and your phone on charge. He left tp give you privacy as you changed. You loved your friendship with him.

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andaleduardo · 6 years

Text

Rooftop N.8

Ao3 N.7 N.9

Friday 21.05.1993

Unlike the few other parties that Eddie attended, this one was already being different without having started. Usually, he’d be in the company of six, or five if one of them was the host. This time, however, he was able to sit in the back of Bill’s parents’ car without having to squeeze himself between shoulders. There was even an empty seat.

An empty seat.

That’s a big deal for them. As he shut the door on his side of the car along with the other boys, his usual internal pep talk came into play, which happens every time Eddie is forced to attend a social event.

It’s just a party. Everyone goes to parties.

Then he freaks out because everyone is a lot for him.

Still, you’re supposed to have fun.

Despite the short time it takes to get to the barn, the quietness inside the vehicle is enough to break the built-up courage. Eddie busies his hands scuffing the end of the navy pants he reluctantly put on earlier, one ankle balanced on top of his knee. Some minutes ago, as he hopped down the stairs and announced that he was leaving, Eddie felt confident. His mom couldn’t have done much after their fight, they barely interacted, and Eddie had to show her that he was independent enough and responsible by himself. He kind of doubted that, now.

Here, inside this car, he feels unprotected by simply knowing that there’s no one worrying about him at home. Ridiculous way of feeling. So, when Bill parks the car among many others on the street where the Hanlon’s residence is located, Eddie puffs air in his chest and grips the door handle, ready to have a good time.

Or so he hopes.

The four of them approach the dirt trail that guides them towards the reddish barn, although it looks greyish in the night sky only illuminated by the dim lights pouring out of the open gate. Music was already playing as they go inside. He scanned the place only to realise how many people already crowded it. Bad idea.

As per usual, Ben and Eddie stay together, Stan hovers closely, and since Bill doesn’t want to go around alone just yet, the four of them stick together while trying to find their remaining members.

That’s when, while on his toes to see over the heads, Eddie sees the made-up stage. He was awestruck at first, couldn’t look away, but examining it for longer made him notice that it was not that impressive. Sure, it had some height, maybe like two steps higher, and he could see it was made from reclaimed wood from the farm. The setup looked cheap, no surprise there. He could see a full drum set, although the various components had different colours, which was a give-away that it was put together by older parts, and there was also what looked like a keyboard, plus some extra keys that didn’t belong on a piano, set upon a stand so that whoever played would be able to be standing up. In the middle stood two guitar stands, one held an electric, all wood and heavy looking, and the other had an acoustic, which looked incredibly like the one that usually stands on a corner of Richie’s bedroom.

And well, that only meant one unfortunate thing.

“This can’t be happening.” Stan’s words were a little bit muffled by the general noise. Eddie shot him a knowing look, both were desperately hoping it was some kind of joke or coincidence.

“That’s…” Eddie gulped and pointed back to the stage, specifically to the guitar both of them had seen many times before. When Stan nodded and draped a hand over his face, Eddie needed a miracle of some sort. Unaware of their discovery, Bill dragged Ben over to one of the tables filled with food and various coloured drinks, separating the group in half.

“They can’t be that dumb. Tell me they’re not that dumb, Eddie.” Oh, how similar both of them are. Only that Eddie can’t really find words to voice his concern right now. His mouth hung open, ready to answer that yes, they are that dumb, but Mike walked up behind Stan with a nervous grin at that exact moment, shutting Eddie up immediately.

“That’s not the support we were hoping to get.” Mike shot him a wink while Stan turned around in a startled jolt. Eddie didn’t have it in him to be playful back.

“It’s a prank, right?” Stan asked with big eyes. Eddie could see that Mike was taken by surprise, his eyebrows furrowing and the smile faltering. Being mean was a gift to Stan’s existence. “Mike, everyone here isn’t like us, they’re mean.”

Mike shook his head and laughed poorly. “You’re the one being mean. They’re just teenagers, students-”

Stan’s throat did a funny noise. “My point exactly. They’ll make fun of you!” Deciding that this was going too far, Eddie elbowed his ribs, which successfully toned him down. With a long exhale, Stan rubbed his eyelids. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to be the target of mockery.”

There was a hurt frown on Mike’s face. “We’re just having fun here, friends having a good time.” His eyes met Eddie’s, probably expecting backup. He had yet to say something so he chocked up, caught by surprise.

“Uh…” He awkwardly cleared his throat and glanced between the two boys. And if guilt wasn’t already eating up his insides, all Mike did was roll his eyes, nod his head and move to another topic.

“Where are the others, anyway?”

Eddie was sure that the devil had fiery hair and a fuck ton of freckles, because she appeared just then. Beverly came from the back entry, probably there smoking, skipping on her steps with a giddy smile on her lips. There was a happy energy radiating from her that could be noticed miles away. She swung herself on Eddie’s shoulders and started jumping up and down, shaking him in the process. The shame was adding up along with a fastening heartbeat on his chest.

Not now. That’s all he wanted. Don’t panic now.

“You actually came!” She shouted over the other voices. The music playing changed.

In order to keep himself stable, Eddie placed both hands on her wrists. She kept laughing, Eddie wanted to breathe the outside air but she smelled of nicotine instead. With a forceful grip, he tore Beverly’s hands out of his shoulders but didn’t let go of them.

Not now.

But her laughs died down, and he felt even worse for ruining something they probably looked forward too. He shot a glance at the stage again and felt her tugging at his wrists. She was smiling softly, a cure for his worry.

“I think you need a drink, Eddie.” She meant those words.

For the first time in his life, Eddie didn’t think that was such a bad idea. “I think you might be right.”

Eddie’s little freak-out took him outside, elbows resting against the wooden fence.

Previously, he had pretended to be present while a cup was placed in his hand, he couldn’t remember which of his friends did it. Then, he had hovered around the group religiously and pretended to drink whatever he was given. He just needed the right moment to back away without them noticing.

Ironically, it was beer pong that saved his ass. His thoughts drifting completely from what was in front of him, which was pretending to agree with whatever Stan was babbling on about and watching a fair amount of people (Beverly included) cheer whoever was heavily invested in playing the pointless game. All it took was Stan giving up on being answered, turning his head to the other side to talk with Mike instead, and Eddie was out of there in an instant. He ignored the girl he run into on his way to the back entrance and took the longest breath of his life as soon as the chill air of the night hit his nostrils.

He tried hard to keep his head out of futile worries. With a swirling cup, Eddie’s mind hovered above many things, desperate for a healthy distraction:

Stan is quite talkative when he’s out of his comfort zone, which is very out of character.

Where did Ben and Bill go?

He stared quizzically at the party cup. What the hell do they put in this? Why am I still holding it, anyway?

I wonder what my mom’s doing.

Probably snoring.

I haven’t seen Richie yet.

Damn it. That’s not a healthy thought.

But it was impossible to stop once it set. Richie, what he could be doing. Who he could be with right now. And how they could be together outside, instead. Eddie would probably ruin his wild fun by begging for his company, not that he would do that anyway.

Maybe internally.

He licked his dry lips, then remembered Richie’s.

“I’m a lost case.” He huffed out, exasperated.

“Woah, don’t think so high of yourself.” Every muscle in his body jolted, startled. Yep, there goes the drink spilling out onto his fingers.

Parties, greatest human invention.

It was Richie, he acknowledged without turning around. Eddie was hit with such gratitude and relief that tears prickled his eyes. So, like the lost case he claimed to be, he lowered his head to let it rest against his upper arms that sat upon the wood railing. Now staring at the way his shoes were digging in the grass, the gravity pulled one on him and made it easier for the tears to escape, falling near his feet almost as soon as they abandoned his eyes.

Laboured breathing made its presence, he left the sense of reality behind and began to shake compulsively. Whatever was done to him for the following minutes would go subtly fogged up.

Up until now, Richie had been with both Bill and Ben inside, convincing them to try the pot brownies they had previously baked for the party. Before, he had taken a little container, filled it up and put it aside to share among the Losers once they were alone.

Bill had agreed to eat them eagerly after listening to how Mike had to steal his mother’s recipe so that the three of them could bake them in his kitchen. How hard it had been to get her to miss the part where they added the best ingredient hidden in Bev’s coat pocket. His mom had bought it when they said the scent came from a burnt batch. Ben refused them kindly, Richie didn’t push him.

There was this annoying press near his heart due to Eddie’s absence that was pushed behind with a stupidly, fake, contented grin as he hung around with his two friends and some other teens that suddenly seemed to realise he existed.

A bunch of turds, if you asked him.

So, there he was, a deep need for a second smoke in less than two hours. Frustrated and disappointed, he snapped out at the sight of some brainless group hanging around the couch meant for his friends and his friends only. He was cursed at while hushing them away, head a bit weary due to the stupid drinks he downed already.

Once he turned back around, Bill and Ben weren’t with him anymore. He kicked the side of the couch with a curse lost among all sounds.

“Hey, easy!” Bev’s careful hand curled around the fabric of his sleeve. He turned to face her, surprised. How did he not see her? Taking a short glance over her head, Richie saw the rest of his friends laughing hysterically at something that he failed to catch.

Bev tugged at his sleeve again so he locked eyes with her.

“Sorry.” He said. “I didn’t-”

“Have you been drinking? You shouldn’t have, Rich.” He shrugged in response, careless. Worried, Beverly took his hand between hers. Richie lowered his eyes to stare at the faint bruises marking his skin.

“It’s healed, you know. I’m fine, all good. Fully operational-” He had to stop himself from babbling on and on.

With an excessively happy smile, she squeezed his fist and nodded her head towards the back-barn doors. “He’s in the back, you know?”

She laughed when his eyebrows disappeared behind his curly bangs. “You should go get him while we finally break in our red beauty.” She motioned towards the sofa he angrily kicked.

Suddenly hopeful but anxious, Richie silently mouthed fuck under his breath. “I shouldn’t have drunk.” He said to the air. As soon as those words left his mouth, Beverly flicked his forehead and hushed him away. Richie complied on heavy feet, unsure of how to approach Eddie.

At the sight of him outside, alone and tense, Richie felt guilty for making him come. He knew Eddie didn’t deal well with these things, and just a few days ago Richie had been the cause of a family fight. Way to go, dickhead.

As he got closer and closer, Boys Don’t Cry by The Cure became less ear deafening and gave him a chance to hear the incoherent mumbling that fell from Eddie’s mouth. Richie was watching his profile, noticing that he was frowning and staring deadly at the cup in his hands.

Now, that’s new. He thought.

Eddie’s distressed expression mirrored into Richie’s features as well. He seemed out of it, not even acknowledging his presence only a step away from touch. Richie was about to lay a careful hand on his shoulder when Eddie’s mumbles became clearer.

“I’m a lost case.”

“Woah, don’t think so high of yourself.” Richie couldn’t help it as the words left his mouth. At least he hadn’t acted like an asshole this time, that alone was a great achievement.

Eddie was startled, that much was expected. He was also waiting for the inevitable bickering that would follow next, but when all that happened was Eddie melting in his own body, hiding his face from the world and shoulders shaking compulsively, Richie had a hard time figuring out if he was laughing or crying.

Slightly freaked, he started by taking the full cup out of Eddie’s hands, which were doing a poor job at keeping it stable anyway. He balanced it on top of one of the vertical wood posts that constituted the fence. Then, he maneuvered Eddie’s body around until he saw how blotchy his face was. There were almost no tears staining his skin, but his breathing was irregular and faltering, a certain rasp to it.

“Hey, hey.” As if he was dealing with a child, Richie ducked his head and pouted, an attempt at making Eddie smile. It didn’t work, Eddie looked away and rubbed his eyes quickly.

“Sorry.” He said between wheezes. Confused, Richie studied him. What was he sorry for? He must have stared for a long time, because Eddie started looking around in every direction, anxiety once again filling him as he stared at the few people crowding the outside space, along with the both of them. Unshed tears filled his vision, fogging his eyes. Richie broke out of his trance once Eddie’s throat gave a pained and squeezed whistling sound as the air passed quickly.

“Don’t apologize, you moron. And don’t look around.” Richie fully crowded his space, hands coming down to circle Eddie’s waist, pulling his body flush against himself close enough so that he’d block the outside from him. “They don’t care about us, promise.”

Eddie stood unmoving. His hands limp by his sides as he let himself be hidden from the world and submerged in the heat Richie was providing. After some hellish minutes of trying to keep his heart at a normal, painless beating rate, he had to admit with, agonizingly but still.

“My mom’s right.” And how it hurt him to say something like that.

Relief washed through Richie. At least Eddie was speaking coherent sentences, mostly. “I don’t know what you think she could possibly be right about, Eds, but your mom is wrong about everything.”

Squeezing him a little bit closer, Richie felt him shake his head against his chest. “I should have just taken the stupid inhaler.”

“What?”

“I’d be better by now and not-”

“Not what? Anxious?” He asked incredulous. “That crap’s fake medicine, wouldn’t have helped you.” Eddie’s arms made a shy way around Richie, making him smile. “You know what’d help, though?” That made him finally look up, searching for another type of comfort out of Richie, which he got just by watching him under the poor lighting. He looked… well, words are overrated.

There was glitter on his cheeks, which was new. Weird, but welcomed.

“Making good use out of that cup.” Richie answered his own question. “Never thought I’d ever see you holding alcohol.”

Ignoring the suggestion, Eddie nodded towards the boy’s glowing cheeks. “You’re sparkly.” He stated. A shit-eating grin took over Richie’s face, smug and victorious. Eddie felt embarrassed for no apparent reason. “What?” He asked in a warning tone.

“Nothing!” With a shrug, Richie tried to hide his amusement.

“No, what is it?” He demanded.

For a second time, Richie shrugged. “S’just, staring at my face calms you down?”

“Like hell it does.”

“Oh, so it’s the opposite? Gets you all worked up?”

“You need to stop putting words in my mouth.” Eddie warned with a typical roll of his eyes.

See, he could have gone for ‘I could put something else instead.’ But he settled with for other words.

“Yeah? Some nights ago, you wouldn’t have valid arguments.” Which weren’t really better.

Eddie’s face paled up, whatever hints of a smile lost. Richie should really think before speaking.

"Fuck, okay, I'm an asshole." He licked his lip in a nervous habit. Mentally, Eddie stabbed him. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable… I was too, you know…?"

The confusion behind Eddie’s eyes was noticeable, so he tried to explain it without really doing it. "You know... You couldn't feel it, but..." He spoke sheepishly.

Yeah, there it was, the moment of recognition he was waiting for. Embarrassed, Eddie adverted his eyes somewhere else.

Right.

"Shouldn't have said that, either…? Okay, well, we can just... we can pretend it never happened, right?" Richie gulped down, dry scratched throat. "If that's what you want."

But Eddie’s response never came, despite the fact that neither of them were doing much effort to let each other go of their embrace. Talk about awkward.

With a heavy sigh and pleading eyes, Eddie whispered. “That’s not what I want.” It was enough to relieve the tension, although both of them failed to see how fucked up their friendship was becoming with each and every one of these occurrences.

Whatever. As always, worry about it later. As usual, ignore the consequences.

Deciding it was best to leave it at that, with a much clearer mind there were some things that Eddie needed to confirm. “Just to be clear, hm… the live music is you guys?”

With an enthusiasm that Eddie himself couldn’t feel, Richie nodded eagerly, a large smile taking over his features. “Aye, captain. We sure are!”

Figures. Eddie groaned, dropping his head to let it hit Richie’s chest.

“See lots of excitement right there, uhm?” Despite the twist his stomach did, he hid the disappointment.

“Sorry…” Eddie sighed. “I need to apologize to Mike and Bev, too. I’m being kind of a jerk about this but… I feel embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” That was weirdly unexpected. “What’s there to be embarrassed about?”

“…Your voice isn’t exactly up to society standards.” Upon seeing the true impact his words had on Richie, Eddie started spitting out words. “I mean, I’m afraid someone may pick on the three of you for it and then turn it into another way to mess up with you guys. And, and I just feel embarrassed, okay? I hate that I do but I’m being honest with you, Richie-”

“Eddie.” He frowned, reluctantly starting to step back from his space. Eddie’s heart broke.

“I’m sorry.” He pleaded.

“Hey, it’s fine. Hear me out.” He placed both hands on Eddie’s shoulders. “Do I need to tell you you’re overthinking? This isn’t really a big deal.” Well. “If it ends up being horrible, I promise you no one here will actually remember most of it.”

“Won’t we?”

“I sure hope not.”

“I’m the asshole tonight.” He said sheepishly. “Not you.”

Turning to look at the plastic cup, Eddie thought ‘fuck it’. He grabbed and gulped it down in one go, almost chocking up. Richie was stunned, looking at him as if he’d grown another head. Once Eddie finished, his face was scrunched up from the burning sensation rolling down his throat.

“You know that doesn’t have any alcohol, right?”

Richie almost lost it when Eddie’s skin burned red, even noticeable in the night, eyes so big and ashamed that, for a moment, he thought the boy would dig a hole in the ground and disappear. He finally cracked up, hunching over the railing to laugh until his eyes stung.

“God, I’m joking! Your face, dude.”

“Fuck you, you’re suck a jerk.” He threw the cup at Richie’s head, feeling guilty as it fell to the floor and picking it up immediately so as to not litter anything.

After straightening himself up and shaking the last remains of chuckles out of him, Richie started pushing Eddie in the direction of the barn once more. “There’s vodka in that, by the way.” It took them a little longer to actually get inside since he fell into another fit of giggles upon seeing the terrified look on Eddie’s face.

After what felt like hours for Beverly, Richie finally decided to appear, Eddie by his side. She, along with the other four, were sprawled in the comfortable sofa waiting for them, barely any space to fit anyone else.

“You turned us into a charity case.” The smile painting Richie’s lips fell at those words. With both hands resting on his hips, he looked at Stan comically.

“What do you mean?”

Stan rolled his eyes, a maddening habit, and spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You guys put this couch here for us.” Eddie hid a laugh under his palm when Richie looked at him, lost but trying to follow along.

“I’m… not following?”

Ben, however, laughed freely. “It feels like you’re protecting us from the beasts.” He motioned around.

Richie kept staring at Eddie, who was having a hard time keeping a serious expression.

“Is that a bad thing? It’s a nice-looking couch.” He stated, still confused.

“You’re babying us.” Eddie concluded. Richie’s eyebrows shot up.

“No, no I’m not. I’m VIPing our club.”

“That’s not even a verb.”

“Oh, spare me, Stan. If you don’t like it why are you sitting on it?”

The piece of furniture was diagonally positioned to the stage. Now that they were closer, Eddie could see that the stage’s shape wasn’t regular, like the common rectangle. Instead, it was almost hexagonal, which made sense because they’d be standing in the middle of a large room and, this way, people would be able to watch from every corner.

Yeah, it’s not that bad at all.

“So, how long for us to see your talent?” Ben interrupted their little argument. Mike and Richie shared a look along with shrugs.

“We planned waiting until more people were around.” Mike explained.

“Yeah, but how much more can you fit in here?” Bev had a point, the place was crowded with familiar faces who kept trying to stick around their little hangout, but not tonight. Tonight, they had a silent agreement on staying close, for comfort and support.

To say that Eddie felt clingy as soon as the three of them excused themselves to go get ready (more like mentally prepared), was an understatement. The passionate kiss shared between Ben and Bev had him turn his face around, always felling wrongly intrusive when it came to public romantic gestures.

As the time passed, he found himself lower and lower on the couch, until most of him was hidden by the back part of it. Somewhere to their left, he could hear the far, yet familiars, ‘chug! chug! chug!’s over whatever crap was currently playing. A faint scent of what could be recognized as weed mixed with puke painted the air. It’s only been what? Three hours? I mean sure, they never arrive on time to these things, having come probably a little over an hour ago, but people lose their shit too easily.

Ever since he came back inside, his curiosity was stolen by Bill, drinking. Probably for the first time in his life, not probably, for sure, Eddie had finished a full cup of alcohol. He feels slightly looser, but he wasn’t sure it was due to that. Maybe, maybe not. He wouldn’t be caught accepting to be, what his friends called, a lightweight. Back to the main point, he wanted more. Might as well get it over it, get drunk once, regret it, never repeating it again for the rest of his life. But, unfortunately, he wasn’t really able to go get it himself, just because.

Because, well, he’s just Eddie. That’s a valuable reason. And like the coward he is, as soon as Bill gets up with an empty cup in hand, Eddie grabs him by the arm. Bill jumps and curses as if he was being attacked. Drama queen.

Trying to act nonchalantly, Eddie asks him if he could possibly bring something for him, too. He has never felt as thankful before as when Bill simply nodded and asked if he could bring the same stuff he was having. As expected, though, once the drink was in his hand and Bill by his side, there was no courage to actually drink it. Paranoid that everyone else was watching, he just twirled the liquid around for a while.

That’s when the music stops abruptly, a chorus of complaints emerging quickly. Eddie’s heart skipped a bit, looking around for a moment until the lights go off and suddenly, his pupils grow significantly, for the place is nearly pitch black. The grunts of disapproval were replaced by gasps, then an eager silence.

If he could see, Eddie would bet that Stan was probably rolling his eyes from the extravagant and unnecessary suspense that they wanted to cause over something like this. But on the other hand, Eddie was finally excited, even giddy with anticipation. His worries about Richie’s voice failing or any other components were tossed to the side momentarily, and he took this chance to gulp down half of what Bill brought him, which Eddie recognized as the same thing he had outside. Its taste was okay, besides the burn. However, he choked up when, out of nowhere, these beautiful lamps over the stage glowed an orange tinted light over the space.

It was still a dark environment, but warmer and cosier. That turned out to won’t be the big surprise as Mike, Beverly and Richie were already on their spots, having come up while it was room was dark, mysteriously not tripping over the dozens of electric cables crossing the surface. Eddie wanted to melt through the floor.

A round of cheering came and Bill placed two fingers between his lips to give a high pitch whistle that Eddie envied so much. Once the shouting, whistles and clapping began to fade, Richie’s impertinent voice was amplified through the one microphone standing in front of him.

“Fuck yes! What an entrance.” Even Eddie laughed along with all the others. “So, I’m not gonna make a pretty speech about how thankful we are. You’re all drunk by now, just enjoy the shitty entertainment.”

More cheers. Why is Eddie surprised. He should have guessed this, but now it’s too late to take back that mild insult to Richie’s voice and hope for the best.

He took his time to watch them in this specific setting that he never would have guessed to see them. Beverly was all smiles, torn between looking at Ben and scanning her eyes through the room. Ben, on the other hand, was at the edge of his seat, right by Eddie’s side, giving her a silent pep talk every time they locked eyes.

Mike, his cheeks were glowing. Oh. Now he sees, all of them have glitter on, which he failed to notice and feeds into his guilty state. Mike’s cheeks are the most noticeable due to the contrast between colours. He looks amazing, no doubt, sending goofy, genuine smiles at the back of Richie’s head while he talks nonsense into the mic. His hands are skilfully turning the drumsticks as if they were bendable and the tank-top he chose to wear does him justice on showing off the strong arms he built over the years of hard farm work.

“I’m making the fine assumption that we’re all broke here.”

Right, Richie’s speaking. What’s all of that about? Eddie finishes the second alcoholic drink of his life, distracted by the happy sight in front of him. Richie’s still the same, dishevelled person. Nonmatching clothes and big teeth for a big mouth for a regular-sized face. Uncombed hair, which is the best way to go around it, and a non-filtered brain-to-mouth way.

Yeah, Richie’s still the one Eddie fell for two years ago and hasn’t been able to let go yet. Nor is he trying to. And, holy, if that’s not a hard thing to admit to himself after so much time of dancing around his feelings. So, maybe it’s the vodka-ish drink. Or maybe it’s his screwed-up appearance. Or the lightness that settled upon Eddie’s stomach moments ago.

Right now, in this room, if someone asked him who’s the most attractive person present, Eddie wouldn’t have thought twice before flinging himself at the mess that Richie Tozier is.

“Dear poor, empty-walleted high schoolers, this one was meant for us.” Richie started by running his fingers over the frets in such a rapid motion that Eddie gave up following it with his eyes. The tempo of the song was quick, his ring finger held a golden slide, and the sounds produced by it were actually good. It was really, really good. If there’s one thing that he’s actually committed to, is self-learning guitar. He had begged for one a few years back, and his parents gave in to his request after making him do all types of chores to prove how far he would actually work for it.

Eddie watches, with big shinny eyes, skilful hands and a concentrated face. A bitten tongue as he focused on the repetitive pattern and tried not to mess it up. The rings are missing from his fingers, tonight.

When the first hints of Mike’s drumming skills started to show, Richie began to sing, if you could call it that, and Beverly busied herself with the sound effects produced by the keyboard Eddie’s seen so many times before in her house.

It wasn’t really singing, it seemed to him that Richie was speaking at a fast speed with a certain rhythm, which made perfect sense. They had certainly picked songs that go along with his voice, what a relief.

Eddie paid attention to the words, and an inevitable groan made its way under the music and all types of encouragement everyone was giving as feedback. He was fucking singing about a prostitute, and using his famous voices to impersonate her within the song. He chose what seemed to be British hooker.

‘If you can pay the right price, your evening will be nice But you can go and send me on my way.’ I said, "You're such a sweet young thing, why you do this to yourself?”

And the rest of it went subtly ignored once Eddie turned to stare at Bill who looked like he was having the time of his life. To his right, Ben was laughing, reasons unknown. Stan was hiding his amusement behind a hand. After the prostitute, came a robbery. What the fuck’s this song about? Yeah, got it. Being broke. Unbelievably, Richie was putting another voice into action every time a new character made an appearance.

The robber sounded from the south. But maybe it was a failed attempt at any other accent really.

‘Give me all you've got, I want your money not your life But if you try to make a move I won't think twice I told him, "You can have my cash, but first you know I gotta ask What made you want to live this kind of life?”

Was it bad that Eddie was enjoying it? Richie either had his eyes closed or stuck on his guitar, and if he knew him well enough, it was from being nervous or afraid to face an audience. But if Richie did dare to look, he’d see so many faces of contentment. Everyone seemed to be enjoying their selves once Eddie turned to steal a glance. Mike was killing it, too, lost in his own world and feeling things to their maximum extent. There were other faint background sounds that made everything better, those were Beverly’s contributions. Eddie could hear bass, xylophone, too, played by her skilled moving hands over the keys.

Sure, the song’s also about a priest stealing money from the church.

By the end of it there were so many whistles and cheering that Eddie saw the exact moment of realisation hitting Richie in the face. Take that, he thought. The idiot should think better of himself, and Eddie can be a real horrible being sometimes. To prove his point, he got up from the couch to applaud them that way, a genuine smile to go with it.

Richie seemed surprise, eager to get some kind of support. Eddie shot him a wink and didn’t think twice before puckering up his lips in a quick air kiss.

So, I’m drunk. Okay.

With eyebrows suddenly flying off his face and a stupid grin, Richie didn’t look away from him as he tried to switch guitars, blindly feeling for the stand. When things got messy and he lost his balance for a second, he had to actually look away and do the task properly. Once the electric was hanging around his shoulder and properly connected to the speakers, Richie started a new combination of chords without a word. Eddie let his body hit the couch again, face red and suddenly overly shy. He placed both hands on his cheeks to check the temperature rising on his skin. What’s gotten into me?

It took him exactly 3 seconds to realise what song they were playing. It wasn’t shocking, either, to anyone, that tonight they’d be hearing Teenage Dirtbag. What a classic. Richie sings it all the time at Losers’ hangouts. Once again, it’s obvious that the voices will come into play, for every time he sings or performs, hat song he always sounds like a clogged-up chicken in a puberty-hit preteen boy.

“That’s my Noel impersonation!” It’s what Richie claims once the ‘I’ve got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby’ part comes along and someone mocks him for how bad it sounds.

Truth is, Eddie doesn’t think it sounds so bad this time. Maybe Richie does it on purpose when they’re all together, but tonight he sounds different, there’s effort, there’s rehearsing. There’s an expectation he put on himself and that he won’t fail to achieve. Eddie is in love. Tipsy, likely, but in love.

It's a great surprise when Beverly’s voice joins Richie’s in some harmonies. Their voices crash, not at all alike. Bev’s serious, Richie’s playing around. When people hear the first words out of her mouth, most of them wowed, stunned, which made her giggle in between words and her chest faulter with quick breaths, probably nerves, after returning her full attention to the keyboard. Ben was ecstatic.

By now, a lot of people are dancing around the weird lyrics, singing along too. This song makes better justice to Beverly’s capacities, along with Mike’s. The electric guitar is louder and different to Eddie’s ears, it does sound amazing, and Richie’s eyes are open for a change. Something quite great strikes his chest when that famous girly voice comes out of his lips. Eddie laughs because it sounds girlier and perkier than ever before, improved. And what were the chances of Richie singing those exact words without breaking the eye contact with him.

‘I've got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby Come with me Friday, don't say maybe I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby, like you.’

Instinctively, Eddie bites his lip, and it stays between his teeth right until the very end of the song. The only thing that pulls him out of it is the intervention that follows.

“Alright, alright, chaps! There’s one last song we’re gonna play, and if you wanna get yourself laid tonight, you should take care of the arrangements in the next three minutes.” Richie took a small step back to laugh at his own joke and catch his tired breath. “I’d like to dedicate it, personally, to a lovely human being tonight.”

That’s when Richie winked in his direction.

That’s when his heart stopped.

“Eds, this one goes to your mom and all the amazing nights we spend together.” If he hadn’t looked away right in that moment, Richie would have seen the disappointment painting Eddie’s face. A hand made contact with his elbow, Bill was babbling on while the beginnings of a new song were born.

“A duh-douchebag once, a douchebag f-for life.” He’s high, Eddie thinks. He doesn’t bother with a reply, instead sinking down on the couch seat and trying to pay attention on this lovely tribute aimed for his overbearing mother. He begun to lose hope after some horrid words like:

‘I hope it's not a one-night stand

It's just you're so cool, and I wanna steal this moment with you.’

The images in his mind were worse than ever. But some made him laugh.

‘I miss your pain, I miss your brain, I miss your kiss, already’

And Richie was using this as a way to mock her, so Eddie felt thankful for the obvious hatred behind the words he was singing. Things only started turning the wrong way, a better one, when something changed in his voice. Eddie just knew, right when their eyes met without further interruption. Eddie was sure, when hating sentences softened and eased the lines on the skin of their foreheads. It was clear that, unlike before, Richie had a new subject of dedication. It was Eddie.

‘I'll hold you dear I hope that you don't think I'm weird’ I don’t.

‘Pretend it never happened’ That’s not what I want. That’s not what I want, Richie.

‘Cause we made a pact And I'll try my best not to get attached …I'm such a fool for you’

And like all good moments, there’s only one person to ruin them.

‘Well, I miss your sex, I miss your lips, I miss your tits I miss your kiss, already’ Richie smiles playfully, still a hint of seriousness hiding underneath. This time, Eddie blushes and mouths at the edge of his cheap party cup with a fire growing inside his chest.

Maybe parties aren’t so bad after all.

Eddie didn’t have any sense of what time it was. Late, probably.

“Why’s everyone leaving?” He pouted and turned to look at his friends, who were entertained by the sight of Eddie and Bill dancing comically in front of them. They had their arms linked, facing different directions and spinning around in circles. “Woah, the room’s spinning.”

Beverly lowered the cigarette from her mouth, Mike allowed her to smoke inside now that the space was clearing up. “That’s because we shut the power down half an hour ago so they’d get bored and leave.” Tightening the grip he had on Bev’s mid-section, Ben chuckled.

“You’ve been dancing without any music.” Bill started to sing some tune they all remembered from childhood, tugging on Eddie’s arm to keep spinning. He wasn’t prepared for such movement so he fell on his butt and dragged Bill along by the arm, who started laughing as soon as he hit the floor, and Eddie.

Their little show had ended some hours ago, with a lot of success, anyone would say. A group hug was shared, along with some drunken apologies from the ones that hadn’t shown support previously. Needless to say, everyone was forgiven without resentments.

Eddie let his head hit the floor, laying there with Bill half on top of him. It was very warm inside.

“So, what now?” Stan asked, although he would regret this as soon as Richie dizzily got up without a word. “Oh, no.”

“Shhhh.” Richie said while rounding the couch to stand behind it. He placed both hands on the cushioned back and pulled so hard his knuckles turned white. At last, he gave up and huffed out an exhausted breath.

“What, exactly, are you trying to accomplish?”

“Stanley, I’m starting to believe you have a fixation on me. I’m flattered.” He ducked his head to lick a long stripe on the side of Stan’s face. He jolted with disgust and desperately rubbed the spot with the back of Mike’s hand.

‘Such weirdos.’ Eddie thought. But he was still on the floor, maybe Bill was snoring by now. Who’s the weirdo, in the end?

“Miikeeeey.” Richie keened. “Come save me with your guns.”

The said boy turned his head around in his seat. “My what, now?” But he got up anyway at the sight of Richie’s baby pout. They both stood behind the sofa and started pulling again, moving the piece of furniture along, gaining speed at each step.

“What the fuck?!” Stan jolted in his seat while being moved backwards.

“We wheeled the couch, babes!”

“Why would you do that?!” But Stanley didn’t get an answer, watching Ben and Beverly have fun. The room was moving in the background. Soon, Mike and Richie were giving one final tug and running out of the way, the couch rolled around at a fast speed until it stopped right before hitting a wall. Richie mocked Stan for the high-pitch scream he let out.

Eddie sat up, shaking Bill out of his sleepy state, to stare with amusement at the little wheels he failed to notice drilled on the couch feet. When Richie and Mike resumed their previous place ready to push their friends to the opposite wall of the barn, Eddie got up and tried to run without falling. He messily threw himself on top of the legs of those who were sitting, earning a groan in response. No one tried to move him away.

“I don’t think we can move the four of you as easily.” Mike stated.

“Cowards, do it.” Eddie retorted back, and everyone laughed at him. What’s so funny?

“Hop off, Eddie. I’ll help.” Beverly pushed Eddie off of the couch. He ended up on the floor for the second time that night before sitting on Bev’s previous spot and bending his legs underneath his weight.

Bill stumbled to his feet and tried to look for the main power switch to turn on the stage lights again while Bev, Mike and Richie finally started their little race. A collective scream came from the group at the speed they were gaining. The barn was wide, sure, but they were close to hit the wall if it wasn’t for the sudden turn the ‘drivers’ managed to do. The sofa started to spin at a slower speed until they decided to keep doing that instead of running around. The three of them pushed the right places to keep the couch rotating until Ben begged them, with tears streaming down his face from laughing, to “Please, stop, I’m going to pass out.”

It was the most stupid thing they could have done, but it was also the most fun.

That fun was instantly killed when Eddie threw up outside after getting up. He had ended up crying, too, maybe because he was pissed, or maybe because his feelings were all over the place.

It was probably around 4 a.m. that Mike announced he would get everyone some blankets and throw pillows from his house. He was gone, approximately, 15 minutes. That time was enough for Bill to park his car inside the barn and scrape his right rear-view mirror even though the barn entrance could fit a bus.

By the time Mike came back, the lights were already off and he was greeted with the sight of Bill’s car inside, every door opened and the couch placed directly underneath the trunk. Both Beverly and Ben were already squeezed on the red sofa.

Bill was awkwardly trying to curl himself inside the trunk without stepping on the couple sleeping. Mike suppressed the urge to laugh and helped his drunk friend inside while giving him one of the many blankets he brought, along with a pillow.

Another one was draped over Ben and Bev, but no pillows for those two, lucky ones. When Mike peered inside the car, he saw, fondly, that the backseat was slightly tilted back, minimizing even more Bill’s space. Richie and Eddie looked very uncomfortable in there, bigger legs hanging outside. He threw them a blanket aggressively, startling both of them up. He was flipped off, worth it.

Lastly, both front seats had also been tilted back as much as they could go. Stan stood on the driver seat, laying sideways and looking at Mike with interest. He was minorly tipsy, but his cheeks were the most flushed. No words were spoken as he climbed on the passenger seat and gave Stan the last pillow. His arms curled around it. The remaining two blankets were sorted between them, deep breaths already being heard by some of their sleeping friends.

That night, the only reason Eddie woke up was to curl around Richie’s body and being held tighter right back.

Happiness was truly intoxicating.

rooftop taglist: @richietoaster @rainydayriots @reddieloves @thetrashmouthclub @lemonboi03 @noodleboyshane @pillsandglasses @studpuffin @dandelion-stan @reddiesetrichie @squishynonbinarytwink @itschunky @burymestanding @duderrific @its-rye @salty-kaspbrak @youtubequeens @reddieseggrolls @addimagination @pastelstozier @sleepysirenprincess @constantreaderfool @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth

perma taglist: @constantreaderfool @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie

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gamerwoo · 6 years

Text

Minho: Ace of Hearts

Anonymous asked: Could you please do an imprinted where a mate is ace? I really wonder how a werewolf would take that

peep my clever fuckin’ title it took me 3 minutes to come up with

Everyone knows I was panicking for like, a whole day because I didn’t know how I would go about writing this. I also chose to make this a stand-alone oneshot because I didn’t know if I’d end up changing any the “rules” I’d originally made for imprinting/mating. I didn’t know much about being ace, so this whole experience definitely taught me some stuff. I hope I did this well!

Character: Minho x ace female reader (featuring exo)

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, angsty fluff, and me probably not knowing anything about asexuals but I tried

Word count: 2,928

Summary: Both of you think that fate has played a sick, cruel joke on you two. A mate is supposed to be made for the werewolf that imprints, but you both think you couldn’t be more different. He wants things you don’t, and it never ceases to cause tension. However, because you are his mate and you both feel the pull, you can’t seem to stay away from each other and try to make it work.

Minho wasn’t happy, but neither were you. Yet, here the two of you were, standing out in the rain at a bus stop while Minho held his jacket above your head to protect you from the water pouring from the sky and drenching everything it touched. He was completely soaked, but you were only damp under the protection of his thick denim jacket.

He always did this: acted cold and angry toward you, but did whatever he could to protect you and keep you from being upset. But how could you not be upset? You were the mate of a werewolf who had instincts and needs they had to follow, but you refused to follow them. You were uncomfortable with some of the aspects that came with being a mate, and while Minho didn’t push them, he was still grumpy about the situation.

He always made sure to tell you that. It was the situation, not you that he hated.

Minho couldn’t help but be completely in love with you. The moment his eyes landed on you, he was head over heels. Things were okay for the first few months. You weren’t super into PDA, and Minho would laugh at how cute your shyness was. But when he decided he was ready to take things to the next level, you had to stop him.

“I’m ace.” you blurted, putting a hand on his chest to hold him back.

Minho cocked his head to one side as he stared at you, blinking emotionlessly. “You’re...what? What is that?”

“I’m asexual, Minho.” you clarified, studying his reaction. You knew he’d still love you no matter what you identified as -- it was just in his instincts to, he couldn’t ever make himself not love you -- but you still knew it would put a strain on things. “I do love you, but it’s all more mental and emotional than sexual. Sex just...makes me uncomfortable. I’m...sorry...I guess.”

Though, you weren’t all that sorry. You were comfortable with who you were, but you still felt kind of bad for not telling him sooner. You just didn’t know how to go about it.

“What about marking?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing together as he realized what this meant. Half -- at most -- of the imprinting instinct was all sexual and physical. The marking ritual was like, 99% sex and 1% biting. How was this supposed to work? “What about mating season?!”

You just scoffed at his last worry. “You have two hands for a reason.”

An argument broke out after that, which resulted in slamming doors, shouting, and Minho storming out of you small house before returning two hours later because he couldn’t stay away from you knowing you were upset. You almost laughed because even though he kept an arm around your shoulders, he had a frown on his face, and didn’t say one word to you.

And that one moment was basically your relationship in a nutshell. Being grumpy but sticking around anyway because neither of you could resist. Neither of you ever really mentioned the sexual aspects of the relationship -- you didn’t want to, and Minho seemed to try to forget they existed. However, both of you still cursed cruel fate for bringing the two of you together. You thought he he belonged with someone who could comply with his needs, and he thought you belonged with someone who understood you better than he could.

He definitely tried to understand. Every single day, he tried his best to better understand you as an asexual person. He’d definitely come a long way in his knowledge, and he always shared whatever he’d learn with the pack. But you two weren’t even together for a year, so he was hoping he’d eventually find a comfortable routine that both of you would be okay with.

“You can always invest in a fleshlight!” Chan had suggested with a giggle.

“Gross.” you commented.

Minho nodded in agreement. “I’m all set, dude, thanks.”

The bus finally arrived, and Minho hurried you on first before he ducked inside, shaking his dripping wet hair as he walked down the aisle to sit in the seat beside you. He wrung out his jacket as you stared out the window at the gloomy day. You were supposed to be going to meet at Chan’s house, but you weren’t sure why.

After a few minutes of silence, Minho finally looked at you. “We’re meeting an older pack tomorrow.”

His voice was low so the other passengers couldn’t hear the strange conversation, but you heard him well. You looked at him in confusion, having not heard of any other packs nearby.

“Why?” you wondered.

“We’ve been on good terms with them for a while, but they always invite us over every six months to check up on if we’ve kept our side of the deal.” Minho explained. “They offer us protection, and we keep stray wolves and other packs off of their territory.”

“We live in their territory?” you asked, earning a nod from your mate. “What do you guys need protection for? There’s eight of you. Are there more of them?”

Minho shook his head, carding his fingers through his wet hair. He looked like he just got out of the shower. “There’s only nine of them, but they’re older, tougher, and more experienced. But the reason I’m warning you is because they like to know when any of us mate, because it means our pack gets bigger. They need to know these things to trust us.”

“So...that’s why I have to go?”

“Yeah, but there’s...a condition. ...Ugh, you’re going to hate me...”

You raised an eyebrow curiously. “What is it...?”

He just shook his head, dropping the subject. “I’d rather tell you when we get to Chan's.”

“Stop. Moving.” Chan huffed as he tried to catch Minho by the shoulders and keep him from pacing.

Once your mate was standing face-to-face with his brother, he slowly turned his head to look at you from where you watched him pace from the couch. Seungmin and Hyunjin sat on either side of you, and Felix was sitting at your feet with his pillow hugged to his chest.

“So?” you wondered, referencing to what he was supposed to tell you about this older pack. “What’s the issue?”

Minho whined, looking back at Chan again. “She’ll hate me!”

“She already does.” the older wolf muttered.

“Do not!” you frowned.

Seungmin groaned, rolling his eyes. “Just tell her! You should’ve told her a while ago, anyway. You know we visit them every six months, and you know how Jongin is.”

Minho took in a deep breath before he turned his whole body to face you, fidgeting with his fingers. “_____... The thing about the older pack, is that... Well, one of them collects mates.”

You shrugged. “And? What, is he going to steal me awa--”

“Yes.” Minho nodded solemnly. “Anyone who is unmarked is free game to him, and literally anybody that enters their home usually doesn’t leave without becoming his.”

You just scoffed, not believing any of this. The whole thing sounded absurd to you. “Why would he collect mates?”

“It’s a dominance and power thing.” he explained, running his hands through his now damp hair. “My point is, if we take you and you’re unmarked--”

“But I don’t want to have sex.” you reminded him.

“I know.” Minho quickly reassured you. “You technically don’t have to.”

Felix sucked in a sharp breath between clenched teeth as Hyunjin flinched and shook his head. Seungmin just patted your knee in what seemed to be sympathy.

“What?” you asked the few of the pack that had shown up.

“Marking hurts.” Chan told you. “Like, a lot.”

“Then don’t take me.” you shrugged.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Minho. Surprisingly, you trusted him with your entire life. There were so many countless times where you almost tripped and fell flat on your face, and he’d catch you right before you hit the concrete; times where you’d walk across the crosswalk without paying attention and Minho would put himself in front of you as if he wasn’t even afraid of the cars that almost hit him.

But were you afraid of pain? Definitely. Especially if the toughest boys you knew were telling you it hurt too badly to tolerate without that distraction of...mating.

“If we don’t, they'll think they can’t trust us, and they’ll break the deal.” Chan explained as another member of the pack walked in.

“What’re we talking about?” Jeongin asked, taking a seat beside Felix on the floor. “Are Minho and _____ fighting again?”

“They’re talking about marking--”

“Bye.” the youngest said, jumping up and walking back down the hall to the kitchen instead. There was a brief moment of silence before you heard him ask, “Why is everybody else in here?”

“What?” Chan asked, not knowing his entire pack had already shown up.

“We came in through the patio!” Jisung called from the kitchen. “You left it open!”

Chan just sighed and carried on with worrying about the older pack. In your opinion, you thought Chan should just take his pack and move somewhere that wasn’t controlled by some sort of werewolf mafia, but you also understood that was easier said than done.

But collecting mates? Really? You and Minho clearly were no match made in heaven, but the two of you were still committed to one another.

In the middle of the commotion, Minho stopped listening to the panic of the pack and looked at you, gesturing with his head for you to follow him. You stood from the couch, none of them really paying attention to you leave as you followed Minho to the back deck -- thankfully, it had stopped raining outside. He closed the sliding door once you were out, and turned to face you.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you stressed over the situation. You either had to endure the pain of marking -- which, honestly, marking wasn’t even something you had considered since your fight with Minho back when you first came out to him -- or endure an obnoxious werewolf that would more than likely hold you as one of his many mates against your will. At least you did love Minho; you’d probably hate this Jongin guy.

“It would be nice if i had more time to think.” you deadpanned.

Minho frowned, knowing he put you in a bad situation. “_____...I’m really sorry. I should’ve told you sooner. I know I’m not the best mate, and all I do is put you through hell, and--”

“What?” you snorted, cutting off Minho’s rant. “Minho, I don’t really care if you get frustrated sometimes. I get frustrated too, but you still make the effort even if it’s hard.”

“But we hardly ever speak to each other because it always leads to the same conversation that nobody wants to have.” he laughed dryly. “How are you happy with this relationship?”

“Because actions matter more than words, and we always show the other that we care, even if we don’t say it.” you stated, taking both of his hands in yours. “You never make me uncomfortable, you never make me feel bad for who I am, you still tell me you love me everyday, and you’re trying for me. Neither of us are too happy with fate, but we’re making it work. You said it yourself at the beginning of the relationship: we’re made for each other.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the cheesy one because I have the stronger pull?” he joked before he brought you into his arms and rested his chin on the top of your head. “So you don’t think I’m horrible?”

“Sometimes annoying, but never horrible.” you told him.

“Minho! Minho, Minho!” the shouting got louder until Felix had thrown the door open and was staring at him with wide, amber eyes. “They’re here.”

You felt Minho completely tense in your arms. You pulled away to look at him, and he was staring down at you in horror. The older pack had shown up? But why?

“You have to figure something out.” Felix told him before turning to go back into the house, leaving the door open.

Minho just looked down at you, and you stared back at him. He brought his hands up to cup your face, and softly kissed your forehead.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

After that whole speech you just gave him, you nodded instantly. He let out a quiet but deep sigh, and his head moved down, his face nuzzling into your neck. His hair tickled your chin while his breath fanned your skin, but you knew that pain was about to come.

“Just hang on to me, okay?” he told you softly as you felt his growing fangs graze your skin, making you shiver. But you didn’t recoil from him. “It’ll hurt, but do whatever you have to to help.”

You heard his soft voice counting down from three before you felt the sharp, hot pain right by your collarbone. It felt like being stabbed -- at least, that’s what you assumed it felt like -- with a hot knife. You inhaled sharply, but refused to let out the scream building in your chest, instead, opting to bite down on Minho’s shoulder, causing a low growl to rumble in his chest.

Despite that, his hands stayed at your sides, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs while the pain just got more intense as his teeth sunk deeper into your flesh. It was the most intense pain you’d ever felt, and it made tears spring into your eyes and spill over onto your cheeks. You couldn’t even control the soft cry that was muffled by the thick material of Minho’s damp jacket.

The pain had spread through your body like a a short electric shock: quick but painful. It made your body jolt and feel like it was on fire before it was just back to your neck. Then Minho pulled away and lifted his hand to wipe away the tears that had escaped.

“All done.” he promised, frowning from the knowledge that he’d caused you pain. But you could still tell that he was happy deep down because you officially belonged to him. You were off limits. “Do you want me to heal it for you?”

You shook your head. “I’ll settle for a band-aid, but thanks.”

The knock on the front door was heard by even you, and Minho stood up straight, staring into the house. “C’mon, before they’re invited in.”

He took your hand and brought you back into the house, shutting the sliding door before he followed you to the kitchen and found you two small circle band-aids to place on the two marks. He smirked to himself as he put them on, proud to have you as his official mate now. It didn’t matter to him how it happened, just that it happened.

“Content?” you guessed.

“More than that.” he told you, kissing the top of your head. “Overjoyed, more like it.”

“You’re still annoying.” you teased as he took your hand once more and brought you to where all the talking was happening: the living room.

“So are you.” he shot back with a quiet laugh before he turned serious as the two of you entered the room.

“Minho!” one of the nine wolves you didn’t recognize smiled warmly as you entered together. “Oh, who’s this?”

“This is _____, my mate.” he explained, pulling you to stand beside him.

Under the gaze of the wolf you could only assume was Jongin due to the two girls on either side of him that clung to him, you shrunk into your mate’s side and slightly behind him.

“She smells a lot like you...like she’s been newly marked.” Jongin noted, quirking an eyebrow. “Though neither of you smell like you mated recently. Is she marked.”

“Yes.” Minho replied with a sharp tone to his voice. It was softer when he spoke again. “She’s not comfortable with...those kinds of things. We make things work.”

The rest of Minho’s pack seemed a little taken aback by his quick outburst toward his elder, but since the older pack seemed to have not noticed it -- or just brushed it off as a werewolf being possessive over his mate -- they didn’t say anything about it.

“Don’t mind Jongin.” a very pretty looking wolf with a bright smile told you as he shot a teasing look toward the mate collector. “How long have you been with your mate, _____?”

“F-five months; almost six.” you replied timidly.

“Just after we last met.” the first wolf spoke up again with a nod before he gave you a warm smile. “Well, welcome to the pack. I hope it feels like home.”

You looked up at Minho, who had been watching you since Minseok had directed his question to you. Your mate who pushed your buttons, sometimes ignored you -- you did the same, though -- and never ceased to make sure you were comfortable in this weird relationship the two of you had. Minho, who put you before him, even during mating season where he can’t seem to get comfort or relief from anything; he’d still keep himself away from you, and have his pack look after you for that week, only contacting you to tell you he loved you.

“It does.” you nodded. “He was made for me.”

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