#I think the only thing that would fix me rn is if someone’s sons fingers were teasing me rn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phanlight · 4 years ago

Text

Twin Flame

. ✧ ✵ ✧ . ✴ . ✦ . . ✦ . ✴

thank u so much to anyone and everyone who’s stuck by over the years had it not been for ur constant support i would not be doing this rn not in a billion years also i hope i still remember how to write

this is gonna be v slow burn [like a big ol sage sticc] so I apologise for the steady pacing for a first chapter but I wanna set sufficient enough ~ foundations~ so things will pick up soon i promise lol

I digress ANYWAY have some magic

I literally don’t know what to describe this as I guess artist/mage/psychic!dan (if that isn’t a thing i’m making it one), bamf!phil (gotta stay tru to the roots), enemies-to-lovers, semi-surrealism, ethereal-surrealism (I s2g this is gonna be about 5 diff genres wtf am I doing)

✴ . ✦ . . ✦ ✴

summary:

Dan isn't lost anymore. He's finally okay with being an explorer, not a seeker. Content with being a wanderer rather than a wonderer. His checkered luck often leads him to almost hear the laughter of Fate ringing in the sky, but he puts it down to entering the world on the Thirteenth night of June; a Friday full with the Moon. A time where forces higher than usual ripple through the atmosphere, through the night. But he’s okay with that. He’s become okay with that. He’ll look for the light in life, live for the sparkle on summer tides. He’ll find answers at the end of paint tubes and poetry books; get by on his own moral philosophies rather than those of a shattered system. But when he falls into a realm in even further ruins than his own, he himself shatters – and suddenly the cycle begins again. Seeking, wondering – lost down to the soul. But with destruction comes construction. With darkness comes light. With bad comes good. And to exist, they must co-exist.

✴ . ✦ . . ✦ . ✴

actual plot bc that said nothing about what acc happens:

dan’s a lonely ass painter who loves crystals and one day finds a passage in an abandoned lighthouse that transports him into a spirit realm where he meets someone more lost than him. they don’t get on but for reasons they’ll have to.

. ✴. . . .✴ .

.✴ . ✴ . ✯ . ✴ . ✴.

opposing forces, they attract;

yin won’t exist without its yang.

a sunless moon, a silent act;

in idleness it hangs.

galactic compounds in the skin,

harbour chemicals and cells,

particles, atomic, sub-

vibrate with polar spells.

the grounding force attraction

it ties every single bond.

becomes the gravity,

of life; existence as One.

.✴ . - Love .

✴ . ✯ . ✴

✴[AO3 LINK]✴

Dan stares at the pale tornado swirling inside the china. Seagulls cackle outside, as if in response to the disgusting abundance of milk.

Fuck this.

The ruined tea goes down the sink with a steamy slosh, and he chokes on the eruption of vapour that partially enters his lungs. Great. The universe has now given him enough to decipher exactly what type of day today will be.

He calls them his Horseshoe Days. He’d had one once – a gift from his grandmother. At the time it seemed something strange to give to a seven-year-old. He was at the age where he wouldn’t know what a horseshoe meant if one came hurtling down from above, bonking the top of his skull.

And it did once – well, nearly. It was only while dodging the thing falling from the shelf, only milliseconds away from meeting his forehead, he realised they might actually be as lucky as she’d promised.

That was, until perhaps, he placed it back on the shelf upside-down. His parents were both blissfully none-the-wiser when it came to anything outside the ordinary – the superstition veining back to his occult-practicing grandmother on his mother’s side (and skipping generation in the process, it seems). They saw a horseshoe as nothing more than a crescent of iron that for some reason sits in the kitchen, whichever way up. It was only once events later that day began to unravel in an unfamiliar manner did a bubbling suspicion of a correlation arise. Dan had vaguely remembered something about the blacksmith Dunstan and how a shoe upturn drains its ‘powers’, but it was only a crashed bike, scraped knee and flattened football later did he actually pay any attention to why his day might have been going so badly.

Well, eventually.

The entire exchange sits still at the forefront of his psyche, each detail in sparkling clarity. He sees it now, even hears the voices.

“That’s why!” he’d burst out over dinner.

His parents had jumped in unison, and his stepfather elbowed over a glass. The table shone with a thin spread of water, trickling across the mahogany.

The hardness of Gerald’s voice is still nailed into the back of his memory. He used to hate it when he shouted.

“Jesus!” he’d have yelled, scrabbling around the table with a napkin. Dan remembers the kitchen towel surrendering immediately, from sheets to soggy mulch in seconds. He’d then have followed with a favourite catchphrase of his; “Do you have to yell like that?”

It was nothing they weren’t used to. He had a habit of sneaking up on everyone. ‘Feather-Feet’, his grandmother used to call him.

Dan remembers ignoring him, stretching up out of his seat and reaching for the overhead shelf. He doesn’t reckon an upturned horseshoe has ever made anyone this happy but he remembers feeling nothing but delight. It’s a bit of a backward attitude. “I knew I wasn’t just naturally unlucky!”

Being born on Friday the thirteenth certainly doesn’t help, despite giving every single birthday wish to a promise of better luck.

His grandmother used to say it was a good omen. Actually lucky; despite its reputation in amongst the ladders and scaffolding and cracked pavement tiles. The Thirteenth night of June, a Friday full with the moon, she used to muse, eyes bright with love. He misses her.

“What are you doing?” his mother had narrowed her eyes, watching her son reach for the horseshoe. When his elbow disturbed a spherical paperweight in the process and it began a bloodcurdlingly slow descent off the shelf, they flew open wider. “Careful! Mind my-“

He was already ahead of her, he remembers. Fingers clasped around the iron and flipped upright in a fraction of a second. In the other he outstretches his hand, feeling the paperweight plop into his palm in one piece instead of millions more. He‘ll never forget the sigh of relief from somewhere behind him.

He remembers the feeling. The weight of the crystal. The coolness of the cast iron. Saved antique in one hand, upright horseshoe in the other. The absolute thrum of electricity through his bloodstream. He remembers smiling and looking up. “See?”

“See what, exactly?” Gerald had then snapped, masking his panic with anything other than fear. “You nearly ruining our wedding present? A repeat performance of Aunt Nora’s teapot?”

He glanced to his mother, still completely ivory with shock. Her eyes are fixed on the swirled quartz as if it were seconds away from leaping off of his palm again by itself; under its own magic.

“Did you not see that?” Confusion begins to seep into his initial delight. Were they even concentrating at all?

“I saw you being idiotic,” his stepfather had spat. Dan winces like he did fifteen years ago. The word still holds its weight, even now. He doesn’t know why.

“The horseshoe,” he’d tried to explain. “It wa-“

“I don’t give a shit about the bloody horseshoe!” he’d suddenly exploded. Both Dan and his mother jumped back in their seats.

“Gerald,” he remembers the softness of his mother’s tone, a diametric opposition of the echoes of steel his stepfather had the nerve to call an indoor voice.

“No, I’m sick of it!” he’s erupting now. Bubbling over the surface. A temper like a needle to an overfilled balloon. “He’s always flailing about. Knocking things over. Your mother told me about the vase, by the way,” he spat aside.

Dan’s stomach had dropped. She’d sworn not to say a word. She’d promised.

“You never know what the boy’s next move is going to be,” he continues. “I’m sick of it,” he repeats again, as if repetition be the highest form of emphasis. He snatched the paperweight but ignored the horseshoe, and Dan remembers how it had looked in his grip – the glass probably having more chance of shattering inside his big burly palm than the solid stone floor.

He vanishes and reappears two seconds later, marching back with a face of beetroot and a brow of iron, pressing a daggered glare into the back of Dan’s head. He could feel the warmth burning the nape of his neck, the stare scalding the skin.

“He’s not to be trusted,” he announced as if there were thousands of other ears also listening.

A delicate frown threaded its way across his mother’s brow.

“Wh-“

“Leave it, Penelope,” he’d cut her off before she’d even had a chance to finish the word, let alone the sentence. Dan used to hate the way he spoke to her. “If the boy wants to behave like a child, he’ll get treated like one. No more ornaments in the kitchen.”

Dan remembers thinking then it would kind-of be nice being addressed by name. Just once. Maybe. Gerald’s also about the only person capable of criticizing a seven-year-old for behaving like a child. Make it make sense, Gerald, he doesn’t say. And my name’s Dan, but you’ve probably forgotten that.

She’d thrown her son a quick sapphire glance; a gleaming silent apology. Dan’s heart had lurched at the glint of panic in her eye.

It lurches now. That absolute demon must have given her hell. He’d never been more thankful to see his mother out of a marriage. He was horrible.

And he couldn’t fucking cook. He even remembers what they were eating on the night because it was so inedible. He’s always detested mashed potato, and he’s certain Gerald knew this. He remembers stabbing the offending white lump on his plate during the sacred three seconds of silence His Lordship could manage before that cruel mouth of his opened again.

“Bloody cold, now,” he’d grumbled.

Dan remembers holding back a smirk. As if any amount of heat could make this cement any less torturous to ingest.

He’d briefly wondered if suffocation was in his hidden agenda all along. It wouldn’t surprise him. Death by potato has an interesting ring to it.

Anyway, the whole situation could have been history in under ten seconds. He could have had the horseshoe upright and the paperweight saved in three of those. Job done, panic over, back to dinner in the remaining seven. He imagines Gerald’s reaction had he spoken his mind at the time.

That was fifteen years ago, of course. Being seven, someone could have told him the sky was pink and he’d eventually believe it (maybe if it happened to be during a sunset). From that point onward he hadn’t exactly lapped up old wives’ tales, myths spinning into each other like silver silk, but his superstition remained a conscious glow in the back of his mind; going no further than avoiding three drains and ladders and watching black cats slink across his path with his breath held. Sometimes even whispering a quick wish when eleven lines up the clock (most days he misses, though).

He vowed from that very moment to save anything considered slightly out-of-the-ordinary for those who actually want to hear about it. Those who understand.

He looks at the horseshoe. It’s the same one – it always has been. Seeing three new house-changes and a hell of a lot of life, it sits, still – tightly nailed to the overhead beam of the kitchen. There’s no way it could slip now.

His eyes travel down from the horseshoe at the dazzling abundance of crystals lining and clustering every free available space surrounding the entire kitchen. He figures Gerald’s little ‘no ornaments in the kitchen’ law wouldn’t bode too well here. He’d scream in fear of the raw amethysts by the kettle. Sob at the sight of the glittering chunks of hematite by the sink. Shield his eyes from offending lines of onyx near the spice rack and the little malachite cluster by Rosa (one of many house plants). And as for the great big slabs of rose quartz and Himalayan salt on the windowsill, the glow of sunrise warming the atmosphere each morning; kissing the space with shadowy peaches and dusty pinks – well, his face would be an absolute picture. Priceless. He grins whenever he dusts, love bursting in his heart for each one and humming through every vein in his body. They make him feel like a proud father.

A short, sharp buzz on the countertop interrupts his thoughts. His consciousness snaps back into reality. Shit, how long has it been? Once he gets thinking about Gerald and everything he put his mother through he gets angry, and then half the day disappears and he finds he’s done little else other than stare at a drawer or a wall for the majority of it. It’s easy to get carried away. It happens when he thinks about crystals too.

You okay?

It’s Zema. Part-time housemate, full-time soulmate. It’s almost like he’d heard his thoughts; the voices so powerful they resonate externally. Part of Dan wouldn’t be surprised if he had – Gerald was certainly shouting loud enough in there.

Been better, he answers truthfully. Just made the worst cup of tea known to mankind

I wondered what all that clanking was

There’s a pause, followed by another quick buzz.

HSD?

Dan grins at the screen. Horseshoe day. He’d even remembered their abbreviation.

“H – S – D,” he’d once said. “It’s like LSD. But shitter.”

Dan had snorted. Zema’s about the only person who would compare having ‘one of those days’ to a psychedelic trip.

“Exactly,” Zema had said once Dan had told him this. “It’s not. That’s why it’s shitter.”

Dan hadn’t exactly agreed with him. He didn’t even think it was worth mentioning Horseshoe is actually all one word, but he’d gone along with it because HSD is a lot less effort to type and sometimes it’s good to have a code. Zema’s about the only person who knows about this. He doesn’t trust anyone else enough not to judge him when he tells them he’s basically superstitious, however blanket that definition may be. It’s probably not the correct term, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it. Drawn to the unknown? Like it matters either way. It’s not as if he’s particularly vocal about it. A twenty-three-year-old male, unusually innate occult-esque interests and a static, stagnant society don’t exactly fit together with jigsaw-like ease. Dan doesn’t know why. Dan doesn’t see what the harm is in allowing others to gravitate towards their own pleasures when the concept alone of interests and hobbies is entirely subjective. That’s the beauty of it, he finds. No two beings have exactly the same range, however similar.

Maybe the harm is that there’s no harm at all, and that scares him. The lust for destruction scares him. This planet scares him.

Something like that, he taps back, before pocketing the conversation.

He gives up with tea involving milk and unlatches the wooden box neighbouring the kettle. It’s stuffed to the brim with teabags of spanning across the entire flavour spectrum.

He picks one up and presses it to his nose, inhaling. Ah, Jasmine.

He picks up another. Camomile and- something. He frowns. Lemon?

He puts it back. Can’t be. He finished the lemon last week.

He picks it up again and sniffs. Ginger, that’s it.

Nah, he tosses it back in for a second time. He only touches the ginger when he’s feeling jaded the morning after a night involving too much wine and not enough water (they happen more often than not).

He picks up another, inhaling the rich, fruity aroma. Red berries. It even smells like the colour red.

He puts it back nonetheless. Strawberries and- well, just about everything else with –berry tagged onto the end – just wouldn’t cut it right now. Ambitious Ribena, that’s what Zema calls it. It hasn’t really tasted the same since he said that.

He picks up another. Jasmine again, he rolls his eyes. He’s seldom ever in a ‘Jasmine’ mood. He doesn’t even know why they have so many – Zema barely touches it either.

He finally settles for a plain green tea. A bit of simplicity wouldn’t go amiss right now.

His phone buzzes again.

Don’t think I can’t hear that kettle. I’ll have a ginseng pls x

Dan huffs out a laugh. Cover blown.

We’re all out of ginseng.

Look under the sink.

Dan rolls his eyes and yanks open the door below him. Six boxes of the stuff stare back at him.

Six??? he taps with one hand, grabbing a box and tearing the cardboard open with another. Really?

Didn’t wanna run out is all that follows.

He shakes his head, but lets the grin tug his lips.

Panic-buying tea now, are we?

Don’t start. You bought six crystals the other day

Ok that’s different. Mercury is in retrograde right now and we’re not taking any chances

What does that even mean

It means u need to stop buying so much tea

I’ll stop buying tea when u stop buying crystals

Dan smirks. He’ll be waiting a while, then.

He assigns Zema the age-old High School Musical mug. It was a gift from Axel one or two Christmases ago, and he imagines the Disney franchise probably didn’t have temperamental dishwashers in mind during the manufacturing process – the boiling steam had left the majority of the characters eyeless and Troy Bolton completely nose-less. He leaves it next to the kettle with texted instructions for Zema to leave the duvet cave immediately before it turns cold, but for what it’s worth, the other boy isn’t exactly famous for his pro-activity early in the mornings. He wouldn’t be surprised if it reached stone temperature before passing his lips. Judging by the lack of audible movement, he’d be safe in assuming he’s probably fallen back asleep.

He pads into the lounge with a steaming mug and a bookmarked copy of Le Fleur Du Mal; completely falling to bits and half of the pages contemplating a permanent escape. Despite his attempts, even the strongest duct tape couldn’t keep this copy together.

There’s something about a parallel translation that fascinates him. How meaning can so flawlessly transcend dialect. He wonders if Baudelaire had this in mind. Whether he knew his works would one day be read in languages far from his mother tongue. Did he know his own craft to be so acute, so fine, that whichever order, whichever laws of letters they’re under – the same meaning shines through? The same rhythm, the same senses, colours, emotions rippling through each sign and symbol? That’s poetry.

His eyes scan the neighbouring verse. Learning a bit more French would definitely help, that’s for sure. His own skill is rusted from years of neglect; having abandoned all hopes of igniting his love for such a beautiful dialogue after school had strode into his life and seeped all the joy and passion out of just about everything he once loved. He’s glad to have reignited that. It was years until he picked up a paintbrush again.

He’s only three words in before he’s interrupted by an all-too-familiar sound.

He rolls his eyes, peering over the edge of the pages. “What now?”

Two eyes wait for him. One emerald, the other azure.

“No,” Dan immediately answers.

The reply is longer, louder.

“Ugh,” his glance scours the ceiling for a second. “It’s literally been an hour, Vee. Where are you storing it all?”

The eyes answer with an innocent glitter, but Dan knows better. His eyes flicker back to the page:

What will you say tonight, poor lonely soul,

What will you say old withered heart of mine,

To the most beautiful, the best, most dear,

Whose heavenly regards bring back your bloom?

We will assign our pride to sing her praise:

Nothing excels the sweetness of her will;

Her holy-

Then there’s a gentle chirrup. He feels his heart turn to jelly. She knows exactly what that sound does to him.

“Venus,” he groans in defeat, elongating the ‘u’. He plops the book down next to him and hauling himself up from the sofa. “Only one, okay? No more.”

She slinks down from the stool, her stool – only about fifty years old and fraying at every single edge. What was once a delicate floral tapestry now existing as aged blobs in various shades of pastel. All four legs, previously smooth mahogany, are now a splintered beige from years of busy carving. He doesn’t understand how such soft paws bear such ceramic claws.

They’d tried everything. From cardboard and cereal boxes to actual climbing towers she would barely look at, let alone touch. Beds she ignored; choosing only Dan’s favourite satin pillow. And she’ll only ever drink water out of a specific pint glass.

“We’ve adopted a human, not a cat,” Zema had once said.

“It’s like she owns us,” Dan had agreed.

She’s trotting along the kitchen floorboards now, her tail high. She stops once she reaches the drawer under the crystal cabinet, throwing her human a demure glance.

“Alright, alright,” Dan catches her up, grabbing the bronze key. He’s thankful cats don’t have the power of thumbs. The world is already chaotic enough.

He ends up giving her three. It’s those eyes, he tells himself in a small bout of self-justification. Those fucking eyes.

“Venus flytrap,” he mutters, running his fingertips along her silky back. “What are you like, eh? Where do you put it all?”

“Hollow legs,” a voice appears from behind him.

He almost leaves his own skin.

“Jesus!” he clutches at his chest. “What happened to the No-Giving-Dan-Cardiac-Arrest-Before-Noon rule?"

He whirls around to find Zema sat cross-legged on the marble surface just beside the sink, all silken robes and bed-beaten hair. A smirk gets bitten back under his teeth.

“I texted you."

Dan can’t quite believe the twenty-first century has come to this. Texting those who not only live in the same property, but are on the same floor.

They’re not actually too dissimilar in appearance – his head also home to a gigantic mass of thick brown waves, although in a darker shade to Dan’s own hair. His eyes stare back at him in a shade of gentle grey. Chameleon Eyes, Dan calls them; for they reflect their surroundings. He remembers how they looked when they’d first met that day at the beach – bright turquoise; matching the sky and the sea. He remembers how perplexed he been the second time they’d met and his eyes were suddenly a shining shamrock; sharing the glow of the grass. Then a gentle grey on the street under overcast clouds. He’s always wanted to go into one of those rooms covered completely ground-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, in mirrors. His eyes would probably boast galaxies.

He’s shorter than Dan (a rare occurrence among his friends) and about fifty times as agile – something he and Venus have in common is their blatant disregard for actual furniture. Even she sits on a stool more often than he does. Zema the Lemur, he calls him.

“Because chairs don’t exist,” Dan mutters now, his tone soaked with sarcasm. “Christ, you’re worse than her,” he nods down towards their little family member, still fixated on the drawer.

She trots up to Zema, seizing the opportunity.

“Are you hungry, honeybear?” Zema coos, his eyes sparkling. He gets an emphatic ‘mew’ in response.

“Don’t be fooled,” Dan interjects quickly. “She’s had a bowl and two treats already today.”

“Those eyes,” Zema grins knowingly. Green flashes in his direction. They’ve noticed she responds to ‘eyes’ faster than her own name.

“Those fucking eyes,” Dan shakes his head in agreement. The eyes in question now dart towards him. Whenever ‘eyes’ happen to crop up in conversation between the two, she looks as though she’s watching a tennis match. Dan’s abdomen still aches at the memory of the night they’d made the revelation; both curled up either side of the room in tears of laughter at her light-like response. “How’s the tea, by the way? Not too cold, I hope?”

“It’s lovely,” he sips appreciatively. “Good mug choice. Always better when it’s from Troy Bolton’s brain. It’s like I can taste his thoughts.”

“I didn’t know Gabriella tasted like ginseng,” Dan says. “Cut her open and she bleeds the stuff.”

Zema smirks. He holds the mug up, examining the worn surface in all its glory. “Looks like someone already has. God, this thing’s falling apart,” he thinks aloud, bringing himself ear-to-lip with the partially eroded character. “What happened to your nose babe, eh? Did it fall off during basketball?”

“Troy Boldemort,” Dan mutters immediately. Zema all but chokes, droplets showering the countertop.

He loves mornings like these, mornings where neither of them have any prior academic engagements and they can just sit and talk for hours about – well, anything, really. The final year of University boasts a monumental amount of focus and preparation and just a general resounding ‘oh-shit-this-is-actually-real’ feeling that apparently never really goes away; not even after you graduate, according to one of his cousins.

For Dan, nothing has really felt real since he was about fifteen, so it’s not something that particularly bothers him. He could just do without that ten-tonne workload.

“So what are you up to today, then?” Zema swings his legs over the edge, giggling as Venus begins an attack on his slipper. “Anything exciting?”

“Not much,” he sips thoughtfully. What can he do today? It’s been so long since he’s had a free day he’s forgotten how he spends time on his own terms. “Might get another painting done.”

“Paint me,” Zema beams, carding a hand through his fringe.

“Oh yeah?” Dan raises an eyebrow. “How the fuck would I go about painting your eyes?”

“Paint me in a field,” Zema continues. “And a beach. I wanna see-…” he hesitates. “We need to go to, like, a strawberry field or something. I wanna see if my eyes would go red.”

“Just smoke some pot. Then you’ll be halfway there.” Dan says, before hesitating. “Anyway, if we went to a strawberry field it’ll be mostly green. The strawberries are only the berries.”

“A poppy field, then,” Zema says.

He literally has an answer to everything. Dan rolls his eyes.

“One day,” he finally affirms, and the other boy grins. “In Spring.”

“I’m glad you’re painting again,” Zema says. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you do anything creative.”

“Tell me about it,” Dan mumbles, taking another sip although the tea’s losing its heat. It’s always the case when talking to Zema – the rapid, quick-fire pace of every conversation leaves barely enough interval to drink (that is, of course, unless it’s alcohol). “It’s been so long I doubt I even remember how to paint.”

“I highly doubt that,” Zema fires back, gulping more tea and placing the ghostly mug beside him.

“How about you, then?” Dan gulps down the remaining liquid before it has a chance to grow any colder. “What are you doing with yourself today?”

“I’m off out,” Zema stretches, his voice slightly strained. “Need to be at Eddie’s by ten. We’re doing the bass today.”

They’re two of a wide circle of musicians playing in each-other’s orbit. Zema’s never anywhere without his guitar, Axel the same with his saxophone (Saxel, he’s often referred to as), and Eddie would be the same, he imagines, had he not chosen the piano as his instrument of choice. He bites back a smirk, picturing him struggling with a rope, trying to drag his enormous Bösendorfer Grand onto a train for a gig. Thank almighty Yamaha for the existence of keyboards.

Dan winces, his eyes flickering to the clock. “You’re cutting it a bit fine, then.”

Zema’s own eyes flash towards the time. “Oh, shit,” the remaining tea gets swallowed in seconds and the ghostly mug falls into the sink with a steely clatter. “I’d better go.”

“Nothing they’re not used to I imagine.” Dan smirks.

“Don’t,” Zema cringes, grabbing his bag and shooting down the corridor into his own room. “They brought up my punctuality only the other day,” his voice continues. “Fuck, Dan. Why do I do this to myself?”

“Alarms exist.” Dan calls after him.

“It wasn’t even that,” he reappears holding a handful of guitar picks and a capo, shoving them into the front pocket of his case. “I decided to stop off on the way. Never in my life have I seen such a queue for the drive-through. It was ridiculous.”

“At least they got a couple of fries out of it.”

Zema stares at him. His expression speaks for itself.

“Okay. Well at least you got a couple of fries out of it.”

“Cold fries. And a melted McFlurry,” he mourns, hauling his guitar over his shoulder and looking Dan dead in the eye. “Word of advice, Dan. Never try eating ice cream while you’re driving. It doesn’t work. There’s a time limit.”

“There go my plans for the day,” Dan scoffs. “I don’t even drive.”

“And it’s about time you learnt, eh?” Zema grins. “Give your bestie a break from all that parallel parking. It’s doing my head in.”

“If it means getting you to places on time, I’m more than happy to,” his eyes flicker to the clock. “You have nine minutes, Zee.”

“Fuck’s sake!” Zema groans. “I’m doing it again. I’m going, I’m going-” he flusters around, filling both arms up with various belongings. “Can you grab my keys for me? They’re on the plate.”

The Plate, Dan smirks to himself. Keeping vital belongings within reaching distance of the door, it’s the porcelain base to everything – keys; both car and house, cards; both debit and SD, alongside an ocean of lighters, loose change, semi-important receipts, and a Pizza Hut flier that had been there when they moved in. He remembers the delight they’d both shared upon discovering the possibility of five-pound large pizzas – crushed immediately by disappointment upon realizing the flier was from 2006.

It’s filled now to the brim with such a pile had it not been for Zema’s obnoxiously large keyring collection it would have taken him an age to locate them. He grabs them by the ‘Amsterdam’ pipe-shaped bottle opener.

“There,” he thrusts them into his hands with a jingle. “Now go.”

“Lifesaver,” Zema clutches them, slipping out of the door. “I’ll see you around five, yeah?”

“See you,” Dan grins, watching him jog to his vehicle. “Safe journey. Don’t drive through anything this time.”

The look he receives tells him all he needs to know. He watches the smaller figure amble up the road to his car; a battered blue thing with a collage of stickers plastering the rear. It was a seventeenth birthday gift; four metallic walls capturing four years of freedom. Despite having known Zema for only two of those four years, they’d already ridden up and down the country in it; halfway back home they’d had to make an impromptu visit to a tiny town somewhere along the south coast due to a faulty tire, but that ended up being one of the best decisions of their lives.

Because had they not set foot into the first tavern they’d walked past whilst the car was being repaired somewhere up the road; a crooked, old thing with bookshelves for walls and a resident cat asleep on the stool, they would never have been served by a bartender with a nose ring and hair the colour of moss (Dan remembers wondering how someone can suit such surroundings whilst simultaneously looking so out of place). They would never have stuck up a conversation about the clock on the wall and discovered it was an original nineteenth-century piece passed down from Germany, and the bartender would never have noticed Zema’s obsidian pendant and asked him about its origins. They wouldn’t have spent the remains of the afternoon sunk into the floral upholstery, swigging ale-upon-ale with this vibrant character as the sky loses the light before reality dawns and they realise they came here with a car that needs attending to.

He still can’t believe this was how they met Axel. All three of them have evolved so much since then, all grown in each other’s orbit.

(The rapid blossom of the butterfly effect has never failed to astound him. It never will.)

The fade of the engine introduces a silence he hasn’t heard since seven a.m. His smile seemed to have travelled along with the car; with Zema. Shit, has it always been this deadened without him? The quietness cuts into his eardrums, growing sharper and sharper the more he strains; searching for something, anything – a whisper of a tree, a yelp of a dog, a-

He paces away from the front door, finding comfort in the soft pad of his own footsteps. The floorboards groan with every movement, and he’s thankful for the noise.

He can never find his way back to sleep upon awakening on a Horseshoe day. It’s the tell-tale sign for him – if he claws his way out of a biting nightmare bathed in sweat, scrabbling around the duvet until his fingers touch cool amethyst, rough and raw, he knows there are challenges waiting for him.

He doesn’t know why it happens. Or how. He’s only ever tried to explain the whole thing to Zema a handful of times and even then he doesn’t really get it, doesn’t really understand how he can just know something’s about to happen before it does, just feels the flames underneath his ribcage, anticipation burning the embers red.

“You ought to get on those Beta-blockers,” he’d once told him through a mouthful of raw bagel. Several crumbs fell to the floor, something Dan viewed as a skill if not anything; uncooked bagels are near impossible to eat that messily. “They helped me when I started getting those anxiety attacks. No way would I have survived college without them,” as he took another bite, more crumbs parted ways.

“I don’t think the buckets of coffee every morning particularly helped,” replied Dan, before adding, “and every evening.” He’d stopped then, frowning. “And wherever else in the day you can- okay, that’s not the point. It’s not the same as anxiety,” he paused, the corners of his mind struggling to describe something so utterly inexplicable. “It’s-… different. It’s never constant, it’s not like that.”

As he reminisces, he feels the jolt.

Something’s going to happen tonight. Today. Sometime.

That is all he’s absolutely certain of. That an event is around the corner, and that it’ll happen sometime within the frame of the day. Good or bad, positive or negative, it’s the same spike in his gut, the same blade of intuition cutting into his senses. Such a skill sits somewhere on the fence between a blessing and a curse.

He makes every effort to swallow the feeling down, place it anywhere but the absolute forefront of his psyche, and treads upstairs. If there’s one thing he’s learnt during the years of having to contend with this (whatever ‘this’ is), it’s not to dwell on it, not to feel it too much. Whatever happens, will happen. No amount of thinking, feeling, sensing, will change that.

As far as superpowers go, it’s a pretty shit one to have, he thinks. Enemy, up ahead. Wait, it might be a friend actually. How close are they? Fuck knows. We might be waiting a while, but it could be any minute now. I know they’re coming though, trust me.

It would be useless.

He reaches straight for the art supplies as soon as he opens his bedroom door, grabbing as many paints as the laws of physics operating his satchel bag will allow. He relies on oil for today’s medium, seizing handfuls of small foil tubes spanning the entire visible colour spectrum, all thoroughly crinkled with use. A couple of sponges leap into the leather (stained, but he doesn’t have the capacity to start his cleaning ritual right now. Cleaning one art supply leads to another, and another, and then ‘just one more’ until the day sits partially behind him and all he’d have to show for himself is an empty canvas and two very wet sleeves), along with a healthy selection of paintbrushes, and the remaining dregs of his paint thinner (he really ought to get some more. He keeps forgetting.).

He releases a breath he didn’t know was taking up his chest. He’s actually ready for once. Wow.

Breakfast is crunched in seconds, accompanied by two planet eyes and a mass of black fur.

“Vee,” he mews through a mouthful of toast, his eyes rolling. “I’ve barely even started mine.”

Her expression doesn’t falter, her gaze only glittering more. He lasts two more bites before caving in and heading to the cupboard. Her paws are feathers; silent little things, but he doesn’t need to hear her (or even see her, for that matter) to sense she’s trotting along behind him – tail in the air and eyes to the sky. He awards her a third treat, internally self-justified by his forthcoming absence for the rest of the day, and watches as her nose delicately pokes the pea-sized thing before accepting it with much grace.

“What is it about you, eh?” he scratches the very top of her head, loving the way her eyes close in response and a deep purr begins rolling. “How do you do it?” his tone is weirdly devoid of rhetoricism. “All you domestic cats do is sleep and ask for food.”

He hesitates.

“I mean, that’s not all you do. You knock stuff over. Both solid and liquid. And scratch things up. And sleep on important documents. And make me late for things sometimes,” she purrs louder – almost solid confirmation cats can understand humans. Of course that would please her. “Yet we love you unconditionally,” his fingertips travel behind her ears and she leans into his touch. “All you have to do is exist.”

If only that were the case for humans.

His toast is cold by the time he returns to it, but he doesn’t care. He wasn’t particularly hungry to begin with – he doesn’t have Venus’s appetite. They should have named her Jupiter instead.

Binning the remains, he slings his art supplies onto his back and reads the weather through the net curtains. It looks fairly promising; the sky slightly overcast but showing no immediate threat of rain – they’d fallen victims to a heatwave not long ago and then a raging storm the following week.

September is often precarious; not quite summer, but not yet autumn. The sun smiles at him but he makes a mental note to pack an umbrella just in case.

✵

His concept of ‘perfect beach weather’ is a bit weird.

His perfect beach weather welcomes a threat of rain. Embraces stronger breezes. He doesn’t care if there’s a cloud bigger than the sky heading in his direction. As long as it’s comfortable enough to sit and paint without the wind claiming just about everything he arrived with, he’s happy.

When he looks out of his window towards beams of warmth, that’s forest weather. That’s lay-in-sunlight-pools-and-read-the-tree-trunks weather. When whites and greys cut the sky, that’s when it’s time for the beach.

This beach is his home. His sanctuary. The only surroundings that actually manage to cut through the thickening tar of anxiety coating his soul, the sound alone of the hissing waves setting him free of any spikes of fretful darkness still latching onto him.

Here he can think.

Feel.

Be.

His eyes match the horizon. Solitary. Still. He doesn’t understand how an element moving so fierce can appear as nothing but a perfectly straight line.

Then again; Jupiter’s a raging mass of storms and still the perfect sphere remains. As for Saturn.

He whips out his sketchbook, the A1 pages immediately making friends with the breeze. He eventually claws the pages into a surface at least half-sketchable, the paper sheets cutting through his gentle grasp as he tries to wrestle with giant flaps of paper, great white veils. The definitive opposite of a bat, he concludes decidedly. He’s probably a good ten minutes into this whole endeavour before the thought of whipping anything colourful out crosses his mind. His hands hurt now.

He starts with the greens. He always does. Touches of evergreen, of shamrock and a blue-tinged teal make their way onto the palette first. He takes a tiny amount of the brightest and begins creating a dusty emerald sky, the bristles massaging the canvas with gentle strokes. He’s never seen a green sky before. He’s seen skies spamming across the entire palette of the planet’s warmth, all rubies and vermillions and even violets. But never green. Green seems to stay on land, he finds. Maybe the trees will be blue.

The trees end up purple. He’s painting what he can see right now; a thick smatter of bushes lining the top of the cliffside. The forest. His forest, he secretly calls it, already hearing ‘you can’t own a forest, Bezos’ from a mini Zema somewhere in his mind.

He’s painted this view, this vast stretch ahead of him, so many times he found the shades to be somewhat restricting despite the sun making all the difference – indigo in the rain and a glittering turquoise in the summer light. So he’d swapped the cool palette for warmth one day, and fell in love with the idea of a ruby ocean. The sands had become a dusty lilac; something that had later appeared in a dream of his. The sky he’d kept to its natural shade that day – a gentle grey; accentuating the heightened colour of the other two.

It was like a fuse had exploded inside him after that. He’d come home from the beach with armfuls of half-damp paper; all thoroughly watercoloured at first – before experimenting with the oils and the pastilles upon realisation that soluble paints and rain-threatened skies do not mix. He’d branched out; grasping at all ends of the visible colour spectrum; knocking on every door, pushing every possible boundary. Rockpools became crystals, the shores began to sparkle – really sparkle; once he figured out how to paint with glitter correctly, - and colours began to multiply. Soon there were three colours in the sky – the gradient fading one into the other and often bearing complete contrasts; reds eloped with greens and purples entangling golds.

He’d combined just about every colour; primary, secondary; tertiary – but never attempts to create the same shade twice. It’s more fun that way, he decides.

He reads the horizon. The line of beach huts are still just as colourful in reality as on paper, so he’d taken to embellishing each door with swirls of gold using his thinnest brush. The shadow of the overhanging clouds looks to have deepened the ocean’s bed, and he wonders just how far the floor of sand slopes down. How many miles of ink until he reaches the earth. He’d swum countless times (some while drunk, thanks to a team effort involving Zema’s persuasion and his own impulsive nature), but never dared to venture anywhere past the Lighthouse a stretch of metres away from the shore.

Dan doesn’t quite know when it became derelict. How long it’s been since a beacon pierced the night with neon light; guiding the lost and the found, the leavers and returners. There are no windows; only wooden squares where light once seeped through – but the Widow’s Walkway still remains weirdly open in the air, the iron cates curling up at the top.

Some say it’s been months. Others longer. Having only lived in this town for the generous part of two years, he has no real clue himself – but every new crack on the surface, every new splinter of wood or peeled paint, doesn’t go unnoticed. However long it’s been, it’s definitely no longer in use.

It’s taken many forms on his papers, behaving slightly different with each medium. He once even took to disregarding colour altogether and using only black ink and silver glitter; each curve, dot and line finely constructed. That one, he must admit, was a personal favourite. He’d turned every crack into a vein, pumping midnight blood into every inch of the tower. Every chip of paint revealed a crystallised surface underneath – its inner beauty begging to see the light.

He adds colour today – but always acknowledges its signs of time. If it’s cracked up there, it’s cracked on the page. If he strolls by one day and there’s a chunk of brick missing; a gaping hole in the surface, he wont lie to the paper.

He’ll just cram a million stars into the space.

His eyes sink back into his own page. The violet trees have a teal cliff to sit upon, and today the sea is a concrete grey – not too many shades off exactly what he’s seeing right now.

It’s another different combination of colours; a new one, but there’s something missing. He reads the page, eyes darting between his creation and his surroundings.

He looks up, bending his neck and staring at the clouds until his eyes water. They glide over him, over them, over everything, like glaciers in the sky. The beautiful thing about just a slight threat of rain, is the sheer metamorphosis they seem to undergo a priori. He sees one turn from Yoshi into an ice cream. One that starts off as a squashed Darth Vader before growing a tail and turning into a seahorse. Another that begins as a boot, considers turning into a palm tree, before finally joining up with another and becoming the Cheshire Cat. A couple that look like skyships. And one that looks exactly like Appa, much to his absolute delight. Even down to the horns.

An idea grips him with such force he jumps, elbowing his paint water into the sand. Punished by Karma for being creative. Great.

He grabs his lightest pastels and reads the emerald sky again.

One sweeping motion, and there’s now a moon; a glowing crescent against the green hemisphere.

Two soft strokes, and there’s a surrounding haze. He softens it with the very tip of his finger, and feels something flood through him. Yes.

Three quick dots of white, and a belt sits in the sky. After another dozen more, a shield. Then a bow joins.

He’s grinning now, inspiration thrumming through his veins like a current.

After seven more, there’s a plough (Trough? He can never remember which one it is. More like the fucking saucepan. Or square with a tail.).

Completing painting after painting in colour after colour, how has this idea never occurred to him before? He should even include a couple of planets, he thinks as his pencil scrapes in a suggestion of Saturn.

Two moons later he grins at the page, sparkling with new celestial life. He throws his eyes up to the sky, wondering how inhabitable the earth would be had his interpretation somehow become scientifically correct overnight one day.

He tries to imagine a sky with three moons. Scarily large asteroids. Comet trails scarring the atmosphere.

Then his smile vanishes and his eyes return back down to this A1 universe beneath him. Tries to chow down the growing realisation that inhabitability is probably inevitable anyway with the way things are headed, and that the problem is down here, not up there – and he dabs in a small Pleiades. Up there is safe. Under the watchful eye of the Seven Sisters; that’s protection.

Aliens are probably avoiding us on purpose. Who can blame them?

#mywriting #phanfic #phanfiction #phan au #dan and phil #dnp #magic au #chaptered #amazingphil #daniel howell #here have a thing #im probs rusty as fuck still but i hope this is ok pls

18 notes · View notes

6lueshift · 6 years ago

Text

Things better left unsaid

Before I start I wanted to apologize if they sound too ooc, it was my very first DX fanfic, I did it /for/ Christmas, got frustrated, gave up, but hhh it’s here for anyone who‘s interested :|

As usual there’s a pic at the end, bc I can’t write without drawing, so

I also apologize for the lack of digital content lately, I’m moving so I don’t actually have a desk to place my tablet rn etc etc have fun

—

It was Christmas Eve at Sarif Industries and, as usual, the employees were split into two groups, the ones who would take the Christmas break and the ones who would wait a little bit further and go for the New Year’s break. The Christmas group would have to work on the New Year’s Eve, and vice-versa.

Jensen had actually no preferences, but since last year he took the Christmas break to spend the night with Megan, this year he just wasn’t in the mood, at all, not after what happened to him, to Megan. But he also didn’t want to spend his Christmas Eve alone in his apartment, bringing back memories of moments that would never return.

Just as last year, Sarif would leave a gift on the desk of each employee. A thin ornate box, covered in a cliché, red and green, paper. Just a small memento, probably another desk gadget, like a classy pen with Adam’s name carved on it, or something like that.

Even so, that wasn’t the only gift Adam got from his boss. Sarif himself showed up at Jensen’s office earlier the day and gave him a nice and old whiskey, that rather felt like an apology. He patted Jensen on the shoulder, with his usual nod followed by ‘son’, and left.

And still, those weren’t the only gifts he have received either. There were greeting cards, more boxes, some smaller and some larger... He felt like people actually enjoyed his presence, maybe they even liked it, or maybe he just took a lot of butts out of the line, and that — somehow — was his payment. He smirked shortly at the thought.

He felt like stretching a little, since he finally managed to clean his inbox. Jensen got up, only to notice that his limbs didn’t crack as they usually did back then, heh, having no bones and actual joints made things... boring. He remembered Megan rolling her eyes whenever he would start cracking his knuckles, ‘Jesus, Adam, that will pay off later, you know, right?’, how he wished she was right.

...

Two hours passed, and Jensen noticed a notification pop-up on his computer screen. ‘You have 1 new message(s)’, it said. The subject said ‘Merry Christmas’, he gave it a click.

‘Good evening,

I wish you all a wonderful Christmas, it is always a pleasure to work with you.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Regards,

Frank Pritchard, Sarif Industries Chief of Cyber-Security’

Oh. Jensen rapidly checked the digital clock, it marked five, six, minutes past midnight, officially Christmas. And Pritchard? Late. Five minutes late. Adam smirked quickly. The all mighty Pritchard didn’t seem to be that perfect, and now Jensen had an excuse to strike back the colleague’s incessant bickering. ‘Oh, really, Pritchard? At least I know how to program a message to be sent in the right time, and I didn’t have to spend my life in front of a computer screen to learn that. I’m talking about your late Christmas message, what a shame coming from our remarkable tech.’

It was all about bickering and he knew that, he refused to act like that in front of a kid, but not in front of Pritchard.

someone’s late for the party|

He typed and sent it without thinking twice, relaxing on his chair. That made him realize that not only he stayed for the Christmas Eve, but also did the tech. Jensen actually didn’t think of the colleague as a Christmas person, left alone a religious one, Pritchard was probably sending those due to the circumstances, it was Christmas and... he didn’t want to sound insensitive, although the tech’s e-mails always spread that same rough atmosphere.

That made Jensen realize that eight minutes have passed and, for his surprise, the tech was still silent, Pritchard usually answers his e-mails very quickly, paranoia? Probably.

‘K, you know what? It was pretty much boring at his office right now, just staring at an empty screen under half-lights... Maybe he could use some fresh air, go to the bar downstairs, see if he could use a drink or two. It was Christmas for fuck’s sake.

Jensen then took the stairs, reaching for the first floor, the chitchat coming from the hall was a lot louder there. Apparently he wasn’t the only one with a break desire after all.

He finally made to the bar close to the helipad, it was crowded with people. Such dedicated employees you have there, Sarif. ‘Merry Christmas’ he heard here and there, he’d wave and nod in response. Fuck. He forgot to bring some credit chip with him, the bar was cool and all that but still he had to pay to drink.

And back up to his office he went. He soon grabbed two credit chips he found there, he couldn’t actually remember the amount of credit he had left inside those. He also took the time to check his e-mails. Still no sign of the tech.

Just after leaving his office, his eyes stopped on Sarif’s whiskey. He let out a sigh at the unexpected thought, grabbing that damn bottle. It was supposed to be mine, he thought to himself, closing the door behind his back.

Just a level below, Adam wandered through the corridor, till his gaze stopped over the words ‘Tech Lab’. He sighed impatiently, again.

Reaching the lab entry, he immediately spotted a head followed by a ponytail. Pritchard seemed focused, way too focused to notice his presence. The tech’s fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard, while the coffee mugs surrounding him made Adam lose count of them, twice.

It was... interesting to watch. Pritchard’s gaze was serious, and his fingers moved almost silently. It almost didn’t look like the tech had in fact such a stubborn personality. The scene was... peaceful. Adam watched Pritchard working for whole five-ish minutes.

He then approached with the bottle and glasses in hands, placing it in front of Pritchard’s chest. The tech jumped slightly from the chair. ‘Christ, Jensen, I’m working if you haven’t noticed.’

‘Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too.’, he pushed a chair he found next to the tech’s electric bike.

‘Spare me the sentimentalism, Jensen.’, Pritchard stretched his arms in front of the computer. ‘Also, thanks for reminding me not to ever bring a spare chair to my lab again, people seem to have the tendency of sitting on it simply because— it’s there.’

‘It’s a chair, Francis, that’s what people do.’, Jensen noticed the tech’s gaze wander from the whiskey bottle to his own eyes. ‘Oh and no need to quote Hamlet or god-knows-what you read just because I brought a whiskey with me.’

‘Only because it further proves that you have no knowledge in English literature?’, he crossed his legs, turning on his chair, facing Jensen. ‘Interesting how we always try to avoid our weaknesses.’

‘Interesting how inclusive you are tonight, Francis, talking about yourself as well.’

The tech got serious, folding his arms. ‘What do you want, Jensen?’, Adam smirked at his little victory.

‘I couldn’t help but notice the lack of Christmas gifts you got.’

‘Is that it? Well, excuse me if I’m not over 50% augmented and look edgy enough to get people’s attention.’

‘Easy, Francis.’, Jensen took the bottle in hands, pouring the liquid inside the glasses he brought with himself. He wasn’t actually looking for trouble right now.

‘I’m working right now, Jensen...’, Pritchard muttered while Adam took his hand in his, placing a glass in it.

‘Nah. Right now you’re drinking with me.’, he clinked the glasses, slowly taking a sip from his own right after that. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Mm— this one is...’ Pritchard mumbled, tasting the drink, lips moist. ‘... strong.’

‘Yeah, I know. Sarif never fails. Here.’ he once again took Pritchard’s hand, taking it away from the tech’s mouth. ‘You’re drinking way too fast. It’s whiskey, Pritchard, not a beer.’ He then took his own glass in one of his aug hands. ‘Smell it...’ he did so, eyes fixed on Pritchard’s ‘then take a sip,’ again he followed his own instructions. It took five seconds, he swallowed it ‘only then you swallow it.’

‘Oh, I hate what he’s turning you into.’ Pritchard looked away, rolling the glass with his hand.

‘Now what are you talking about?’ Adam put down his own whiskey.

‘Sarif. He’s teaching you everything. He’s turning you into a perfect copy of him, or at least he’s very close to.’

‘Spare me from your superstitions, Pritchard.’ He rolled his eyes.

‘You’re right... You’re right.’ the tech mumbled closing his eyes, bringing his glass to his mouth, tasting the whiskey silently. ‘Merry Christmas, Jensen.’ He whispered.

They drank in silence from then on, apart from their knees that now were awkwardly touching each other. Jensen would still avoid Pritchard’s gaze after what the tech said about him and Sarif. Ironic how Pritchard managed to fuck up the mood so easily, even when he tried his best to keep it cool between them.

Jensen couldn’t help but notice the colleague soften on his chair. The alcohol seemed to be spreading quickly. He jumped slightly after noticing the tech’s hand over his. His fingers were warm, carefully exploring the textures of his augmented hand.

‘I apologize for earlier. Some things are better left unsaid.’ the tech recomposed himself, taking his hand away from Adam’s, just to be stopped halfway.

‘Go on, it feels... nice.’

Pritchard was way too waisted to care. He kept stroking Adam’s hand, while his own would shake in some sort of anxiety. He was curious to see how far could this take him, but was also afraid of what Jensen would think of him.

In silence they stood. Adam would intertwine their fingers, feeling the warmth of Pritchard’s palm against his. Knees still against each other, feverish.

The tech once again pulled his own hand away, heart rushing, cheeks burning. His head was spinning when cold augmented hands pulled him closer, and lips were pressed together.

Pritchard fought for full five seconds, just to give in at the warmth of Jensen’s tongue. Desperate, he would allow himself to explore Jensen’s mouth, the scent of alcohol taking over him.

They would run out of breath too quickly, since their movements were completely out of sync, but neither of them cared to move away, breathing against each other’s skins, mouths agape, they would exchange kisses until their heartbeats were calm again.

‘I-I don’t know what just happened. I-I have work to do, Jensen, please.’ he looked away, pulling some of the bangs behind his ears, recomposing himself.

‘You’re drunk, Pritchard.’ Adam stood up. ‘But fine,’ he sighed ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Adam couldn’t deny he wasn’t somehow affected by the whiskey as well, maybe not as much as his colleague, but still. He placed the chair back from where he took it, and headed to the door. ‘You sure you’re ok?’

‘I’m fine, Jensen, now just leave me, wouldn’t you?’ he would look anywhere but at Adam.

Jensen, however, approached him once more, the tech shaking on his chair, eyes wide open as Jensen came closer. ‘Forgot the bottle.’ He whispered against Pritchard’s ear, placing a teasing kiss on his neck, followed by a bite.

‘Jensen!’ Pritchard pushed him away, pulling the turtleneck higher.

‘Fuck... You’re too loud...’ he complained, one of the hands over his ear, taking the bottle and glasses away.

‘Christ’s sake...’ Pritchard muttered at last, head resting in one of his hands, while the other stroke the sloppy piece of skin.

—

#jensard

38 notes · View notes

thisismyghost-blog · 5 years ago

Text

A letter to my conservative friends/family

I have had the feeling of being separated by a thick wall from everyone around me for most of my life. There are times people reach me but it’s usually short lived. I have been the quiet one people tease with worn out phrase, “Cat got your tongue?” And who looks on confused and smiling trying simply not to do damage and being paralyzed by not having infinite perspective or all my ish together or knowing that how people perceives me can have consequences to them even if I only show love to them that they can not be able to recognize it or that my perspective may limit me from seeing how a blind spot I have affects them. I care and I see, therefore I am used and covered up. It doesn’t have to be that way. We don’t have to have all the answers in order to deserve respect and care. We don’t have to be likeable to everyone to not deserve judgement. No one is blameless so when fingers get pointed and groups of people get villanized there is always someone who doesn’t value people on the other end of that. Empaths have open hearts and arrows fly in. We can change the direction we face our hearts to be able to receive the love and mercy we are being offered and can’t accept. We can do that when we see we need to in order to really do that for someone else. We can turn our hearts away from people who seek to keep our thoughtful insight and the reality of our experiences secret or try to make us unlikeable. It takes a lot and it might not be fixed and always ok and someone might still hurt us but if we are to be strong for our children and those we love we have to build ourselves back up in order to speak, in order to reveal the truth, in order to rescue those who might possibly by spared. I would not have reached this place without unconditional love and willingness to sit with me in the pain.

Lucifer appears as an angel and impersonates and perverts everything good. Narcissist are the same. He roams the earth seeking whom he may devour. He took so many bites until nothing was left. I died to myself and have been reanimated by the love around me. I have been kept safe enough to do the work while not being further victimized and pushed further into a corner souley because I was lucky enough to have real love around me.I am only able to finally see those whos opinions matter and to start becoming bullet proof to being shut down by the criticism of those who have nothing to teach me. I have been loved enough times and thrown enough ropes to make it here. I am dramatic and weird and airheaded sometimes and klutzy but some of the best people are and if I am to ever reach them i have to stop letting people put me down. I have never met anyone more Jesus-like than my childhood best friend. She was treated at times like she was simple for never criticizing anyone and having an endless sunshine well of positive energy and love for others and no need to self promote. The fact that the world lost a light like hers and her equally brilliant amazing beautiful mother is one of those stark realties that make me understand how people can die from a broken heart. It’s one of those realties that threatens to fill me with hatred at people who parade around with the wrong values and wouldn’t see their infinite value and beauty.The fact she has a son in this world without her breaks me in a way that sometimes it feels not worth continuing to fight for a life in a universe like this where the rocks don’t cry out and stop these things from happening. But my son needs me and I have to be brave enough to endure what I need to endure in order to carry her torch and I have to be curious and critically thinking enough to keep myself out of the way and really seek wisdom the way the smartest person I will probably ever personally have a relationship with, my father, always did. I have been in denial and bargaining stages of greif until pretty much rn since 2001 when he left this planet. He won’t be in history books or built a monument to like I think he deserves and he has not been able to live the last two decades with his daughters and wife whom he adored and or the grandchildren he would probably adore further still. I have never been able to feel close to him or be anything but hurt and enraged by accessing memories of him and seeing what I had lost. Until my son, with his perfect innocence, beauty and valiance has managed to bring me to the present moment from the island of the supreme type of disociaton from your body and ego that happens after certain social isolating traumas. Until I was able to look in his handsome face and realize the love between us is the same and how the things that really matter, which include him never losing sight of his value are all I’m concerned about living on from me. He was able to do that only with our angels (my bf, his stepdad) shield up, willingly absorbing stressors. What he endures, I may never fully see or appreciate. The ways my family have ever gone to battle for me in the face of uncertainty and pain because they love me I may never fully see. But how I begin to connect with them in a more meaningful way and start to be the type of woman he deserves is by looking at those facts without shame but with their love. My son adores me how I adored my mom even when she felt bad about herself and I have finally begun to be able to step up and be there for him the way I want. It was never that I wouldn’t have happily been burned alive to do for him but that I was paralyzed to do because I felt unworthy, not wise enough, not strong enough, not cool enough, not good enough to express myself or assert myself at times when I wanted to. I can stop being angry at myself for not being able to protect him from ever being hurt because of the love I received from my mother which I see clearly now, moved mountains for me even if it couldn’t and never was responsible for magical, super human provisions of everything I needed. Those mother’s don’t exist because it’s not human. How can a single human being be what they want for the ones they love? By realizing they are the potential expression of God’s love and the highest level of being when they show their love for their children. By realizing that is good enough and allowing their children to have access to their healthiest possible most creative self. The loudest people in the room are most often the most selfish. The introverts and empaths and those who have suffered in ways that give them the awareness aesthetic people (think monks in wool robes in monastery rejecting worldly pleasures) are seeking. The ones with the most needed voices to be amplified are busy listening and gleaning actual useful nuanced insight that is crucial for building a society that more efficiently can seek to fulfill liberty and Justice for all. True American values and Christian values imo are to look to those at the bottom in order to gauge the efficiency of those at the top. We are all guilty of looking to the day we can be worthy enough but we are telling our kids that how attractive and liked like are by a crowd or considered impressive and holy enough by a congregation of people matters more than it already does. We are engaging in a quest for a life that doesn’t exist. We will never be blameless. Beautiful and rich will never be able to equal peace or meaningful human connection so we need to stop chasing mirages. Ostracism has huge health impacts physically as well as emotionally, and happens no matter how strong or pure someone is. Children, case and point. We have to take responsibility for our impulse to turn away from people when we can’t help them the way we want. We have to fight our urge to stifle ourselves and see that no one is qualified and it won’t accomplish what we wish it could but that our voice needs to be heard precisely because we think that way. I’m trying to tell you that you don’t need to feel ashamed for being human.If anything about me was worth saving and it’s a good thing for people not to self destruct while they fumble around in the dark dungeon of uncertainty and shame is a priority. Cliches and Grand displays of emotion that have the most powerful meanings are generally rendered totally lifeless by being repeated too much by false prophets and manipulating people. Our culture doesn’t have enough genuine displays of how a human life works and what real love looks like. From everything and everyone that I’ve lost and years of personal torment and suicidal ideation cycles and silence I have been lifted up by love. I have to let go of what I refuse to accept is gone in order to interact with what is or ever get to what could be (like living in and helping create a home where children can be even happier than I remember being and longing for. That I can stop feeling homesick for and experience the next level of with my kids and embody all that I possibly can from those who I love and have lost or who are still out there but undervalued and replace the survivors guilt with honoring them. I am ok with you seeing me struggle and thinking I’m weird and long winded if you choose to read this in the hopes I can share some outline of love and grace that I’ve been shown and the hope and can only be born from the flames. I hope to fortify you even if you can’t stick by me right now, if you are ever brought to your knees. I want you to remember what that cat lady told you.

1 note · View note

whatismarvel · 7 years ago

Text

happily • (t’challa udaku)

Summary; Y/N is arranged to marry Eric (he’s somewhat changed) but T’Challa and her are in love.

Warnings; angst. cursing. a lil heated scene. this is really bad btw.

a/n; also, the tumblr app is literally being such an ass to me rn and it’s messing up the entire thing, so my advice is to login with your browser or sumn. im so annoyed, but enjoy loves.

|flashback|

“I hope one day, I’ll rule side by side with you, my love.” T’Challa wholeheartedly uttered, taking your hand and resting a crown-shaped promise ring on the palm of it.

You closed your hand, smiling profusely, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

____

You scoffed at the sight before you. There was your fiancé, shamelessly locking lips with another woman.

“Y/N, wh-“ Shuri stopped, mid-sentence as she saw where your gaze was directed to. “Bast. That little piece of shit.”

You laughed as you broke sight of Eric.

“Don’t act surprised.” You reminded her. This was not the first time this happened. “At least their clothes are still on, and they’re in a corner.” She rolled her eyes. You shrugged. “I don’t even care anymore, Shuri.”

“He needs to get his hormones in check.”

“Tell me about it,” you giggled.

_____

“Your fiancé looks as if he’s enjoying himself. Don’t you think?” T’Challa whispered into your ear, behind you. His breath sending goosebumps throughout your body.

You took another sip of your wine, not bothering to turn around whilst muttering, “If you mean by him fucking around with other women, then yes, he is enjoying himself.”

T’Challa chuckled bitterly. “Karma’s a bitch, my love.”

You smirked.

“I wonder if he knows that I touched your skin?” He mutters as his fingers discreetly run up and down your uncovered back. Your dress giving him a view of what he knew all too well.

“I wonder if he knows that every time he’s out fucking each and every girl he sees, I’m making sweet love to his fiancé.” He rasped darkly.

“What would your parents say my love?” He continued. “If they found out The King was fucking their engaged daughter?”

His words send shivers down your spine. You gently squeezed your thighs together, already knowing if he continued speaking so vulgar, down there would be pretty damped soon.

You let out a shaky breath. “Hmm?” He hummed.

“They’d be ashamed for starters,” you finally spoke.

“But what would your country think, when they find out their King’s been fucking his cousin’s fiancé?” You simpered.

Spinning around, you caught hold of his stunned face. “Hmm? Panther got your tongue babe?”

He laughed his melodic laugh. ”My cousin, truly doesn’t know how blessed he is to have you in his life.” He says, pulling you closer to him.

A bittersweet look dawns your face. T’Challa notices. ”What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You place your now tightly clenched fist on his chest.

”I-I can’t marry him, T’Challa. I can’t m-marry a person I don’t love. The only person I want to marry, is y-you.” You sobbed into his chest unceasingly, hands clutching at his jacket.

He pulled away from you, cupping your face so you looked up at him. As your eyes met his you could see how teary they were getting.

“My love, you know that there is nothing we can do. We just have to accept that it is what it is, Y/N.” He uttered, as his dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears.

“Bast! I can’t keep running around the palace in secrecy as if I’m a damsel in distress T’Challa!” Your own voice shocking you as it rose a little higher.

“I just want to be with the one I love. Don’t you love me, T’Challa?” His heart broke as you croaked the last few words.

“More than anyone ever could,” he blurted, “But you know this is not my decision to make.” He stated matter-of-factly. “As much as I would love to marry you right now and make you my Queen. It is not possible.” He whispered below his breath, tears now evident as it streams down his stunning face.

Shaking your head, you quickly got a hold of yourself and wiped your tears. “Wipe your tears, My King. Your mother is approaching.” You murmured, not making eye contact with him.

Your words did not faze him. His eyes were fixated on your hand. He gently grasped it.

“It is quite shocking, Y/N, that you still have the ring I gifted you in the past.” He observed, lightly smiling to himself.

“It means something to me. You- mean something to me.” You spat, as you released your hand from his grasp.

“There you are! My son, there are a few important guests that would like to meet you.” Queen Ramonda stated, eyeing him. “Yes Mother, I’ll be on my way.”

She now turned towards you.

“Ah, Y/N! Shuri and Eric have been looking for you! Shuri has been bored out of her mind and Eric isn’t exactly exciting for her.” She laughed.

“I know.” You giggled. “Well, I’ll take my leave. Enjoy the rest of the night.” You told, glimpsing at T’Challa and smiling at the Queen.

____

“My wife, where you been? I was looking for you.” Eric says as you take a seat between Shuri and him.

Shuri rolled her eyes. “You have?” You questioned, the sarcasm rolling off your tongue.

“Yeah, I missed you babe.”

You laughed at him. “You missed me yet you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Missed me with that bullshit.” You snarled, crossing your legs.

“Damn. What T’Challa do you? He ain’t been fucking you right apparently.” He shot back.

Your heart beat quicken, you could feel your ears getting hot, but nevertheless you tried to keep your cool.

“W-What do you mean?” You stammered.

“Nah princess don’t act like that. Don’t think I don’t know y’all been fucking.”

“Bast! Ew, that’s disgusting! Is that true, Y/N?” Shuri queried.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about.” You denied, popping a cherry into your mouth from the platter on the table. Fear enveloped you. If it’s one thing, you did not want to have this conversation in public.

He chuckled. “She’s been loving that man since forever. Why you think I’ve been fucking around? If she can do it so can I.”

“Fuck you Eric.” You mumbled as you popped yet another cherry into your mouth.

“I’m just sayin, I can fuck you way better than T’Challa-“

“Okay stop! I really don’t need to hear that. I’m confronting T’Challa about this!” Shuri got up, storming through the crowd.

“Shuri wait-no!” You begged, but she was long gone.

“Eric!”

“Sorry babe, she had to know.” He said placing a cherry in his mouth.

You took a deep breath. Multiple deep breaths, actually. Your heart beat was all you could hear and feel as you waited.

Standing there for what felt like eternity but was only five minutes, you wanted to curl up in a ball and not speak to anyone. You knew this had to happen, but today of all days? Karma really was a bitch. _____

Shuri was confused as she wandered through the ballroom looking for her brother.

“Sorry.” She muttered as she nudged someone. “Shuri, what is the matter? Why are you in such a hurry?” Her brother asked.

“T’Challa!” She screamed, placing her hands on his arms and pulling him into a corner.

“What a-“

“Zip it. Is it true Y/N is having an affair with you?” She pondered.

He looked at his little sister. He never knew he could fear a question so much, until now.

“What? Are you crazy? That information is false.”

“Listen. I know you have a history with her so please, be honest with me.” She pleaded as she grabbed a glass of water from the passing waiter.

He sighed.

“It is true. But you can’t reveal this to no one. Especially Eric.”

She laughed. “Brother. He’s the one who told me.”

“What?”

_____

“How’d you know?” You mumbled.

“How’d I know what princess?”

“About T’Challa and I?”

“Huh. Caught you sneaking out the King’s chambers one morning, and with the way y’all talk to eachother it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.” He smirked.

You nodded. “So did you have feelings for me?”

“Nah princess. I knew you were my cousin’s, since I came here.”

“So why’d you agree to marry me?”

He stopped. “Who else is going to marry me Y/N? Nobody wants me here. Nobody truly loves me. So I saw an opportunity and I took it.” “Eric,” you sympathized. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve always looked out for you and thought of you like a brother. But when you accepted the proposal, things changed. I was baffled, I didn’t understand why you wanted to marry me, but I do now.” You paused, looking for the right words.

“B-but my heart is always going to belong to T’Challa and even though we can’t be together, I just can’t give up on him.” Tears stroll down your cheeks as you fiddled with the promise ring you were given years ago by the love of your life.

“I-I just don’t know if you could live with your wife longing for another man.” You muttered underneath your breath.

Seeing the tears in your eyes, Eric didn’t know what to do. He thought for a second and decided.

“You don’t have to marry me, Y/N.” He declared, scooting closer to you and resting his hands on yours.

“I know how much you love him, and honestly, you the first person I actually wanna see happy.” He confessed, continuing. “I’m gonna make sure you marry my cousin. This engagement is off.” He proclaimed, making you look him in the eye.

“Are you serious?” You gasped.

“As fuck. I ain’t wanna make you unhappy everyday of your life.”

You grinned. That was literally the sweetest thing Eric has ever said to you.

“Are you sure? What about you?” You pestered.

“Shit, I’ll be fine darling. As long as we’re still friends.” He laughed.

“Eric. Y/N.” You both heard T’Challa called, followed by Shuri.

“Ah, the King of the hour.”

“Can I speak-“

“No need for that, I’ve already fixed your life. You two are getting married.”

“I’m sorry, what? Are you serious?!” Shuri screeched, earning a few looks from guests.

“Yeah, we called off the engagement.” He casually responded.

Tears in your eyes as you looked up to T’Challa.

The little jellybean was in shock. He gaped at you as if someone said he’d have to go through hell and back for you to marry him, and you best believe he’d agree to do such thing, for you.

“Is this true?”

“Yes, T’Challa!” You grinned, wiping away a few tears. Your makeup slightly smudged due to all the crying you did today.

He gently fell to his knees, tearing up as well. Tenderly, he grabbed your hand and glided the promise ring of your finger.

“Remember the day we were giving up?” He started, his voice gentle. “Just thinking how I went about us wrong, makes me regret. I’ve had countless nightmares about you losing hope in us.” He truthfully says.

“I’ve been idolizing the light in your eyes since the day we met, and when the news came you were getting married and I couldn’t do anything about the matter, my heart broke. I felt as if I lost myself, my happiness, my everything. But now that I have the chance to have you by my side ‘till death do us part, I’m not going to waste it.” He shook his head.

“Would you, Y/N L/N, make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife, my queen, my everything?”

“Yes! Of course!” You cried.

You’ve lived for this day and you couldn’t imagine saying anything different.

He slid the ring down your finger. His hand reaches for yours and they interlock as you kissed passionately.

Shuri wiped away a few tears as Eric and her started clapping, gaining attention yet again, from the guests.

“I love you, Y/N.” He beamed, holding your hand as you stood up.

“I love you too.”

Standing there, you knew one thing for a fact. You were at utmost happiness when you were with T’Challa, and honestly, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

#black panther x reader #black panther imagine #black panther #t'challa x reader #eric killmonger #shuri #mcu #angst #fluff #t'challa udaku #queen ramonda #killmonger #eric killmonger x reader

245 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 6 years ago

Text

Survey #166

“you are my slave, my little fucking disaster.”

Are your eyes the same color as your mom’s or your dad’s? Neither's. Are you afraid of elevators? YEP. When was the last time you pulled an all-nighter? What was the reason behind it? How did you feel the next day? No less than a month ago when I was binging someone on YouTube... Maybe Shane? Which of the following areas is going best for you right now: finances, work, love life, social life or education? Why do you say this? Lol only my love life is going well. All the other categories are on fire rn. :^) Have you ever heard of somebody doing something disrespectful to somebody’s grave? Or seen vandalism on a grave/gravestone? No, thank goodness. What is something you do differently, depending on your mood, environment, etc. (could be anything from what kind of outfit you choose to how you react when somebody irritates you)? Well, dress, for one. I'm at home, I'm permanently in pjs. I try not to swear around kids. Lots of other stuff... This question is pretty broad. What was the last song to bring out strong emotions in you? I'm not sure. Metaphorically speaking, what was the last thing to crush you? Finding out my cousin can die at the snap of a finger. You are about to die; what do you do with your worldly possessions? Give 'em to family and charities. Do you take vitamins daily? No. Do you know anyone that’s handicapped? Probably. Do you know any illegal immigrants? I did, but he got deported after he fucked up with getting involved in crime. Do you own any formal gowns/tuxes? I have one black dress I'd wear to certain occasions if I could actually fit in it, which I definitely could not currently. Can you sit for long periods of time? NO. Pretty sure my surgery caused a sensitive nerve, because afterwards, I couldn't and still can't sit very long without getting up being horrendous and slow. Do you have any cavities? Just one I'm scheduled to get fixed next month. What’s the most attractive thing on the opposite sex?  Why do I like shoulder blades so much like why Do you regularly experience pain in any part of your body? My knees constantly hurt. Wish I knew why. Last place you flew to on a plane? Chicago, and I'm going again real soon. :') Does Europe or Asia sound more appealing to you for a vacation? Ugh both. But it's more likely I'll see Europe. Who was the last person to give you a hickey? If ever. He Who Shall Not Be Named. What is your lover's middle name? Jane. Who was the last person to flirt with you, other than your lover? I don't think anyone. What’s your favorite type of sushi? Never tried it, not interested. What’s your favorite patriotic song? All that's coming to mind is "Courtesy of the Red, White, And Blue" by Toby Kieth. It's pretty catchy. Have you ever read a book about a character in a psych ward? No, but that'd actually be really interesting and maybe relatable to me... though that could also prove dangerous and triggering, too. Have you ever been in a mental hospital as a patient? Five or six times, I stopped paying attention at four. Whose place did you last chill at and with who? Colleen's. Have you ever been lead on? I don't think so. Have you ever slept with a member of the opposite sex without having sex? Well yeah, we were in a long-term relationship, we were just about an old married couple just like "nah son we going to bed." Sleeping with each other was enough. What would you say if someone asked you to get high right now? Peasant, I won the D.A.R.E. writing contest in the 5th grade, I say hugs not drugs. Has someone close to you died of a murder? No. How often do you brush your hair? Every time after a shower and before I go out. Short hair makes caring for it so much easier. Did you ever listen to Avril Lavigne when you were younger? Fuck yeah I did. What are three things you refuse to ever do? Prostitute, abuse someone, do drugs. Do you have any medication that you keep with you at all times? Yes, anxiety attack med. What’s something that’s much more difficult than a lot of people realize? Putting on and maintaining a happy face with depression. Have you ever began a relationship with someone you knew for less than a week? No. Do you typically do your make up the same each time? Or do you like to change it up often? It's pretty much the same. What is your favorite breakfast food? Cinnamon rolls. Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? Yeah. When you help someone do you ever think, “What’s in it for me?” Check your heart if you actually ask yourself this. Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? No. Have you ever blocked someone on Facebook before? Yeah. Tattoos on your lower back - cute or trashy? Neither, reliant on just placement. I couldn't care less where you get tatted, the location doesn't *automatically* make something (un)attractive. Also, try to convince me how the placement of a tat is "trashy." What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever cried about? There's no telling. Ever faked an orgasm? No. Done something illegal to your car? N/A What scars on your body do you have? Oh, boy... I scar so easily. My worst ones are on my shins from scratching the fuck out of them after shaving, I have two scars from stitches, various cat scratches, a scar from bumping into the side of Venus' cage, one from accidentally scratching my hand pretty bad while washing my feet in the shower (don't even ask how I accomplished that), faint self-harm ones. I have way too many. Ever date anybody in middle school? One guy. Puppylove. Ever written your number in a public bathroom or a school text book? If so, did anyone actually call you? No. Ever had an infection of any kind? Yeah. Ears, a piercing, a cyst... probably more. Oh, and I have inactive MRSA, if that counts. Would you prefer cherry Cola or vanilla Cola? Omggggggg, gimme cherry. Vanilla Coke is gross. Have you ever tried to draw an anime version of yourself? No. How do you feel when you are ignored? I handle this worse than the average person. No one likes it, but it makes me feel especially unimportant, annoying, and unworthy of any attention, because something must be "wrong" with me. I guess it's maybe an AvPD thing, like I interpret it as rejection. Name a site that you visit everyday. KM. I'm like an overprotective mom of it that has to ensure everything is fine. Have you ever led the prayer at dinnertime? If not, do you want to? I have on Thanksgiving. Would you rather play an instrument or be the singer? If I was actually confident in my voice, sing. Turkey or ham for Thanksgiving? Turkey is too dry, so I was all about spiral ham. Do you celebrate Black Friday? I just shop online if there's a good deal I come across. What song are you listening to right now? "Army Of The Night" by Powerwolf. Have you ever been bitten by an animal? Nipped, sure. Then occasionally a cat would play too rough. Colons or equal signs for your smiley face’s eyes? Colons. At what point were your parents most disappointed in you? I don't know. Have you ever had a tarot reading or palm reading? No, I don't believe they're in any way factual. If you’re no longer in school, what is something you miss about it? If you’re still in school, what’s something you think you’re going to miss about it? I miss at least somewhat of a social life. What is the greatest amount of money you’ve spent on a concert ticket? How much would you be willing to spend to see your favorite band/artist? Idk how much the Alice Cooper tickets were. To see my absolute favorite... maybe $300? Do you use your turn signals when you’re driving? I'll judge you the moment I find out you don't. When you play Monopoly, what game piece do you choose to use for going around the board? The dog. What books (if any) have you read more than once? Meerkat Manor: Flower of the Kalahari and Because of Winn-Dixie off the top of my head. What is something you like to think about while you fall asleep? Happy thoughts. Focus on something good that happened and stuff like that. How long do you think you could tolerate going without showering? There's absolutely no way I could go beyond three. Even after two days, I feel pretty yucky. If you had the power to instantly transform someone’s life (for the better), who would you choose to use this on? My mom. She's never happy and probably doesn't remember what it's like to not be a stressed mess. Does it bother you when surveys ask about political or cultural topics that could possibly be controversial? No. Does someone’s view on homosexuality affect how you feel about them in any way? Yup. How about someone’s view on religion? It depends on which and how hardcore you are about it. Do you wear Crocs? Set them aflame. What’s your favorite thing to have on your bed? Sara. Don't even mean that sexually, it just means I get to cuddle with her lmao. What’s the nicest text in your inbox say? Certainly something saved from Sara. Who was your last missed call? Vocational rehab. The person you have feelings for says he/she wants to have sex, you say? Well first if she was absolutely certain about wanting to. Then I'd be all for it. Do you know how many people your best friend has had sex with? None. KFC or Popeye’s? I don't like fried chicken, like at all. If you could have a neon light sign that said anything you wanted, or looked like anything you wanted, what would it be? I deadass want a retro-style, blue one that reads "but be very Jim" to confuse the unenlightened. What was the last thing to malfunction/break in your house? Was it fixed? Something was wrong with the washer. I think it's been fixed? Or Mom's doing laundry elsewhere. What was the last uncomfortable situation you were in? I was getting my knees x-rayed and of course they needed a billion angles, and I couldn't totally understand what the woman was telling me (very echoey), so I just totally ragdolled and let her do whatever with my legs, but she needed me to readjust a lot and just ugh it was awkward and I felt very annoying. Do you think it is awkward for people over sixteen to have sleepovers? No????? Are you good about sharing your belongings? Are there certain items [aside from obvious things like your underwear] that you wouldn’t be willing to share with anyone? It depends on what it is and who you are. Something I'd share with no one... idk. Will you cry at your wedding? I will get raccoon eyes the moment I see her. What was the last thing you sang? "Where The Wild Wolves Have Gone" by Powerwolf. Gummy bears or Gummy worms? Worms. What’s your middle name(s)? Marie Catherine. If your last ex said they hate you, you say? I wouldn't know what to say; I'd be pretty damn hurt. We've been friends since high school and he's the last "real" friend I have irl. Only one I ever occasionally see, only one who checks up on me. What do you struggle with the most? Anxiety. It affects so many areas of my life. Are you good at giving advice? I don't think I'm bad. Especially if you give me a moment to think on the topic. What do you want to change about your looks? W E I G H T Do any of your pajama pants have holes in them? There's quite a lot in my Batman pair. Old. What do you get cravings for the most? Soda, probably. Do you enjoy watching vlogs? Depends on the person and what I feel up to watching. What is your favorite Halloween candy? Nothing really exclusive to the holiday. Where was your senior prom held? The local community college. What was the theme of your senior prom? Don't remember, actually. Do you know what you want the theme of your wedding to be? If so, what would it be? Sara babe can we do gothic please I'll marry you harder. Did you have low self-esteem growing up? No, it became an actual problem in high school. If you’ve ever had your hair highlighted, what color highlights did you get? Purple and red are the only highlights I've gotten, I think. What color Christmas lights do you like best on your tree? ALL THE COLORS. What do you put on top of your Christmas tree? We tend to alternate between a star and angel. How many proms did you go to? Two. How many boyfriends have you had in your life? Meh, answered this in enough surveys, so I'll just say only one was serious. How many girlfriends have you had in your life? One. Have you ever had a “friend crush” on someone? OH YEAH, I've learned that I have more than once. Think I like someone like that, then nope. Were you ever homeschooled? I was homebound at the end of 8th grade. At what age did you start puberty? Idk. I just know I was normal. Have you ever made a wreath? No. Who was your first roommate? My then-boyfriend, his friend, and his then-girlfriend. What color hair did your first crush have? Brown. Do you know how to change a tire? No. Have you ever passed out? Once, came very close on I think two or three other occasions. Do you prefer notepad or wordpad? Wordpad. Do you eat raw cookie dough? I will risk salmonella for that shit. How old is the last person you kissed? 20. Where does your best friend live? Illinois. How many people have you truly fallen IN love with? Two. Has anybody ever called you a tease? Oh boy. I fucking live off teasing. What about kinky? I was too much of a shy sub for him to ever see that side ha. Where was your mom born? Queens, NY. Have you ever seen your siblings naked? My two immediate sisters, anyway. What do people call you? Brittany, Britt, or Ozz, mostly. What are you doing this weekend? BITCH I'M GETTING MY MARK TATTOO. I made $365 + $20 sitting fee for the wedding shoot so guess what I'm treating myself to. Do you owe anyone money? Who? What for? My old college. Do you like people? Eh. Hard question for me to answer. I think I'm neutral towards the morality of humanity in general, but what's for sure is I don't trust the majority. Do you think you look better with a tan or without? Without. It's all I really know lmao. Would you ever share your most embarrassing moment in a YouTube video? That'd be flagged fast lmao. Regardless, n o p e. What’s your favorite hair color for girls? PASTEL COLORS!!!!! I like dyed hair on anyone okay. What color is your recliner? Don't have one. Do you wear makeup every day, or only on special occasions? Whenever I feel like it, regardless of occasion. What helps you take your mind off your problems? Talk to Sara, RP, watch YouTube... Does your first crush know you liked him/her? Definitely not. Did you ever think your house was haunted? I think my most recent might have been? But idk. Do you have any supernatural gifts or abilities? No. What does your trick-or-treat bag or bucket look like? N/A sadly. :c Do you celebrate Christmas? Yeah. What season would you want to have engagement photos taken in? As much as I hate the season, spring, with l o t s of flowers and sunshine!! You’re in line at Taco Bell, what’s your order? I only ever get a cheese quesadilla and fiesta potatoes. Has anyone ever taken your clothes off of you before? Yeah. Have you ever stayed up at night waiting for someone to call/text you back? Maybe? Have you ever touched a dead body? Dead pets, yes. I might've touched my old babysitter's face or something at her open-casket wake, idr. Have you ever had a real tea party? Or been to one? No. Just the make-believe ones Nicole would want to do as a kid with her Disney set. How do you feel when a mostly unheard of band (or tv show, movie, etc.) that you love suddenly starts to gain popularity? Happy for 'em! Just don't change your style for the sake of appeasing the masses. *coughmaroon5cough* When was the last time you listened to new music? Recently. Gotten into Spotify a bit. Do you think it is strange when a couple says “we are pregnant” rather than “I am pregnant” or “my girlfriend is pregnant”? No, I actually think it's sweet. You're in it together. What word spelled out looks weird to you? "Acquaintance." I can't spell it either; fucked it up first time. Do you require “closure” after things like break-ups or do you move on easily? I need closure. Is there a genre of movie that you just can’t watch? I'm not that into action. Have you ever been on a hot air balloon? No. What was the last seriously painful thing that happened to you? Getting my tragus re-pierced was actually pretty rough since apparently I have thick cartilage and it went through scar tissue. What’s the last rude thing someone said to you? Idk. What does your class ring look like? I didn't buy one. List ten careers you think you’d find interesting. Oh, jeez. Ten? Particularly interesting? I'll try: Paleontologist, biologist, cryptozoologist, zoologist, musician, YouTuber, dancer, taxidermist, snake morph breeder, and uhhhh. Idk. Do you know what you want to do with your life? Yeah. Do you believe in Judgment Day? No. What is the name of your YouTube channel? My current one is 0zzkat. What was the first social media site you joined? MySpace. Where would you most like to do a 24-hour challenge in? List five places. Bitch tbh I don't think I could do any alone lmao. But I'd probably find an old asylum scariest/most interesting. What’s your favorite part of Chinatown? Never been. What are some jobs people in your family have had? List five. Disney World employee, professional cake decorator, mammographer, special ed assistant teacher, and dance instructor. Which Power Ranger was your favorite? Wasn't into that. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? Whale sharks oof. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? Buy me that Reese's Blast thing from Sonic and I'll be your slave for a day. Do you believe in aliens? I actually do by now. If you were ever sent to prison what crime would you have committed? I've legitimately worried about me killing someone in self-defense but it being ruled as murder or something. @_@ Do you have a picture of you kissing someone? Yeah. Do you have a favorite pillow you always sleep with? No. When was the last time you slept in someone else’s bed? When I was at Sara's. Out of all of your friends who have you gotten in the worst fight with? That I still associate with, Sara. We were lil shits. :'D Who was the last person to have to deal with you having an attitude? Mom. If you had $100 dollars, how would you spend it? Save it to get my laptop fixed. You were given the opportunity to get a new cellular device, what do you choose? Some older iPhone. I don't need something needlessly expensive, just one that isn't actual garbage. Which of your classes in school is most capable of killing a good mood for you? Math was. How nice of a person are you, honestly? Tbfh I think I'm typically too nice. I'm getting better at taking less b.s. now tho. Ever physically fought with member of the opposite sex? No. Ever kissed a friend’s crush? No. Do you swallow gum when you’re finished? Only if I really want it gone but I don't have access to a trashcan. Very rarely does that happen because I feel funny trying to swallow it. Ever had a best friend of the opposite sex? Well when I was dating Jason I considered him my best friend of course, but if you don't count s/os, no. Have you ever kissed in the snow? Probably. Is there someone that you believe you will always be attracted to? Yeah. Do you have something in your room that you never want to get ruined? I would legitimately break down if something happened to my shiny pebble from Holly Hill. I got it on my "graduation;" it symbolized how something beautiful came from harsh conditions or something like that. It was passed around by my teachers and "classmates" for each person to wish me well and just in general say all they wanted to about me while holding it. With how that place truly became my messiah, I couldn't lose that thing, ever. Have you ever made a difference in someone’s life? I'd think so. My parents especially, obviously. Next time you will kiss someone on the lips? OCTOBER 3RD APPROACHES. Do you think dances (prom, homecoming, etc.) are fun or lame? They're overrated. You pay a lot to look nice just to stand around with shit music blaring and being totally unable to hear each other. I truly don't know why I went to two. What was the last thing you tried for the first time? Ummm blue cheese? What was the last thing you learned? Oh jeez, this should be easy with the videos I've been binging lately. Nothing impressive. How often do you visit your relatives? Like, never ever. When was the last time someone admitted to having somewhat of an attraction to you? Sara. What was the last wedding you went to like? Any pictures you’d like to post? It was beautiful and intimate, and it was an absolute honor to be the photographer. I don't feel like fetching pictures, but they're on my photography site and FB page. Has anyone slapped you across the face before? If so, why? No. Do you prefer to have more or less in common with your significant other? More. Would you take a shot of heroin for a million dollars? No, not worth it. Why don’t you talk to your ex anymore? Aaron: Drifted apart. Juan: He's a reckless fool I didn't want to associate with, partly out of fear of his rep, too. Jason: He wanted nothing to do with me. He claimed it was for my own sake as he didn't want me to develop false hope, but who knows if that was the sole reason. Tyler: He was way too obsessive and wouldn't leave me alone. I still talk to Girt.

#survey #quiz #questions #random

6 notes · View notes

felixthekoala · 7 years ago

Text

Drifted

Group: Stray Kids

Pairing: Felix x Reader

Description: Water Polo!Felix

a/n: I’m having issues with tumblr rn so I can’t add a keep reading option as of right now or all the text gets majorly messed up. Please bear with me and I’ll fix this as soon as possible. Also, this was originally part of a 9 chapter collab with other lovely writers but schedules got in the way so we’re posting our own as solo fics. I’d still highly recommend reading all the others, they are phenomenal!!

You sprinted across the grass, your breath ripped from your lungs. You had been studying in the library at school and, being the genius you were, forgot your phone at home so you couldn’t tell how late it had gotten. Your mom was going to kill you. Glancing around, you realized the shortest way to your car was through the pool area. Making a beeline for the gate, you threw it open, slowing down slightly so you wouldn’t slip on the wet floor. You shrieked, heart flying out of your chest when you heard someone clear their throat. Whipping around, you scoured the darkness for the source of the sound.

“And what might we be doing here at this hour?” a familiar voice asked. You followed the sound to the pool, finding none other than your ex-childhood best friend.

“Felix, what are you doing here?” you demanded. He smirked, swimming over to the edge.

“Ah ah ah, you still haven’t answered my question. No wait- lemme guess… You were studying in the library and lost track of time? You’ve always been the studious one.”

You scoffed. He said it like it was a bad thing. Was it really so bad?

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he asked, the look on your face answering his question for you.

“Well what are you doing here, Felix? Shouldn’t you be going to some party or getting jacked off ‘roids or some shit you jocks do?” you retorted bitterly. How someone could have changed so much in one summer had you appalled.

“I sense some contempt in your tone, may I ask what I ever did to you? You were the one who stopped answering my calls.”

You glared at him. “Are you kidding me right now?! You know what you did, Felix. How could I answer your calls after that? You obviously thought you were better than me since you joined the water polo team.”

He cocked his head in confusion.

“You really don’t remember?”

He shook his head.

“That just shows how little you cared about me. Whatever Felix, I’m leaving. I’ve done perfectly fine without you for five years, I can avoid you for the rest of my life if I want.”

“Wait!” he brought his hand up to stop you.

“What?” you sighed in exasperation.

“I really don’t know what I did to you. What happened? One day you just stopped talking to me.”

“I feel weird talking to you in the pool, Felix, it’s awkward. In fact, this whole thing is awkward.”

“Why don’t you join me in here, then?” he winked, causing you to choke.

“Excuse me??”

“Come on, you used to love swimming with me.”

“That was before. We both know both of us have changed since then,” you replied, trying to conceal the hurt you felt remembering those painful memories.

“Fine, will you at least help me out?” he asked, holding a hand out.

You lifted your eyebrow at his hand. “Aren’t you a water polo player? Don’t you have all those rippling muscles to compensate for all that masculinity lost by wearing a speedo?”

“Ooh, zinger. You know, I really missed our witty banter with you constantly making jabs at ‘dumb jocks’,” he replied, placing a hand on his heart in mock offense. “And yes, I normally am fully capable of pulling myself out of the water, but you see I’ve been training alone for as long as you’ve been studying, so roughly five hours, and my arms are completely dead. Now will you please help me out?”

You sighed, placing your backpack on the ground and grabbed his hand. “Fine, but you’re putting a towel on the second I get you out of there.”

“Deal.”

You noticed the smirk a second too late, and before you knew it, his strong arm had yanked you into the pool. You shrieked, as you made contact with the cool water, spluttering when you surfaced.

“You son of a bitch!” You screamed, sending a wave of water directly towards his face.

“Hey, you always loved my mom,” he teased through laughter.

“I can’t believe you just did that! You are completely ridiculous and immature and childish and-” you froze when you felt his hands on your shoulders, looking into his eyes that bore into yours.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I was just trying to have some fun. You look like you haven’t had fun since you dumped me for academics.”

“You mean when you dumped me for all of your jock friends who say nothing but shit about me?”

“Wait wait, what? You mean Yugyeom and Jackson? I don’t know how you heard about that but they’re not my friends. Well they were my friends for all of two minutes before they said that shit and I gave them matching black eyes…”

“You did that?”

He nodded.

“For me?”

Another nod.

“Why?”

“You were my best friend. Even if I felt like I was losing you and tried to make new friends to make up for it, I still cared about you.”

You blinked back tears as the realization hit you.

“Oh god, I was so awful to you. I blamed you for all those things being said about me and I completely ghosted you. I was afraid you would think you were too cool to be friends with me anymore when you joined the water polo team so I threw myself into my academics. I never thought-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Sure it sucked that we went this long being bitter towards each other, but we know the truth now, yeah? Maybe we can go back to being friends?”

You nodded, sniffling.

“I’d like that.”

He smiled. “Good, because I’ve missed you. Now stop crying, you’re gonna make me cry.” He pulled you into a hug, rubbing circles in your back.

Your eyes widened as you became extremely aware of his lack of covering over his torso.

“Uhm, Felix? As much as I missed your hugs, do you think maybe we could save them for when you’re fully clothed and I’m not freezing in a pool?”

“Huh?” He processed what you had said and quickly pulled away. “Oh, uh, yeah, sorry. I forgot.” He ran his fingers through his hair, an embarrassed smile on his face. That was one of your favorite nervous habits of his, and you tried to suppress the smile that was fighting to emerge on your face. “Here, I’ll help you out,” he offered, grabbing your waist and lifting you out of the water effortlessly.

“Well I guess water polo is good for one thing,” you joked. “I remember when you couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling.”

“Yeah, you should come to one of my games to see the real impressive stuff.”

“Awe, is little Lixie wanting me to come support him?” you teased, tapping his nose with your finger.

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbled, struggling to hide his smile. “I haven’t been called Lixie in forever.”

“That’s because I’m the only one who can call you that.”

“True. And I’m the only one who can call you a nerd.”

You punched his arm playfully. “I’m not sure if I should take offense at that.”

He laughed. “Well, we should get you home. I’m guessing that’s where you were sprinting off to?”

You scrambled up in a panic. “Oh my god I completely forgot! I have to go, Felix, but I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You’re welcome!” he called out as you grabbed your backpack and ran to your car, ignoring the freezing air and the squelching sound in your shoes.

You loved your first class on Wednesdays because it was an hour and a half of free period. The best use of free period was shoving your nose in a book in the student lounge and studying for upcoming tests, which was exactly what you were doing when a pair of warm hands covered your eyes.

“Guess who!” he sang in your ear.

“I swear to god, Felix, if you don’t remove those hands right now I will punch you where it hurts. You know I’m not above it,” you growled and luckily for him, he removed them immediately. He plopped down in the spot next to you on the couch, laughing. “Seriously? 'Guess who?’ That’s so five years ago, Felix,” you teased, smacking his arm.

“How would you prefer I greet you, then? Hmmm? How about 'what’s up nerd?’”

“You say that I will reply with a swift kick to your jock strap.”

“You see, that just goes to show how little you know about jocks, in water polo, we don’t wear jock straps, we wear speedos. You really need to learn your enemy before you attack.”

“Fine, I’ll snap your speedo so hard your children will feel it. Better?”

He smiled. “Much.”

“So why are you here?” you asked, giving up on your studying and shutting your book.

“Other than to see your lovely scowl?” he joked, ruffling your hair. You glared at him through the tangled curtain he had made.

“Yes, other than that, which you will see a lot more if you keep doing that.”

“Well remember how I said you could come cheer me on at a game some time?”

“Yeah…?”

“I have a game tonight, and I was wondering if you’d maybe like to come? It’s a home game, so you don’t have to go anywhere…” He trailed off, running his fingers through his hair.

“What time is it?”

He perked up instantly, grabbing your shoulders. “Really? You’ll come!”

You smiled at his puppy-like behavior. “I’ve got nothing better to do, so I guess so.”

Hearing that, he pulled you into a tight embrace, thanking you profusely. You glanced around at the growing pairs of eyes on you.

“Uh Felix? I missed you and all, but we’re kinda not alone and it’s not exactly middle school anymore…”

He looked around before snorting and continuing to hug you.

“Whatever, they can enjoy the sight of me back with my best friend. Honestly if they get scandalized at this, then them making up stories in their heads is inevitable.”

“I guess you’re right, but Felix?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you so excited about me coming to your game?”

He chuckled in your ear. “I guess because you’ve never gone to one of my games and I’ve always dreamt of a day when you’d support me in the stands. Now that day is finally here.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his sentimentality. He was the sweetest boy you ever knew, even if he was a little brat a lot of the time.

“I missed you too, Felix. I missed you too.”

(to be continued?)

#stray kids #straykidznet #networkstraykids #sk-writersnet #stray kids directory #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids fics #stray kids felix #felix #felix scenarios #felix fluff

160 notes · View notes

cannedapricot · 7 years ago

Text

Instagram Famous! Bae Jinyoung

happy 100+ followers!! in celebration, i’m here bringing you some instagram famous! baejin!

baejin never even thought about having 200k followers when he first opened his account

it just happened

he woke up to 739203 notifications after posting a selfie lol

posts once a blue moon

but people still follow him juST IN CASE HE POSTS A SELFIE SOON!!

“oh bae jinyoung uploaded something do yoU SEE HIS FACE I CAN’T BELIEVE HE EXISTS SCREECHES”

everyone highkey thinks he’s an ulzzang because have you seen his visuals??? 10000/10

( Ulzzang translates to "best face" or "good looking" in Korean. This slang is often used by netizens, contests including girls competing for the title of "ulzzang". However, even if this is true, Ulzzang has developed into a subculture/style, rather than a competition/contest event. thanks google ily)

most of his feed is filled with adventures of him and daehwi

it’s adorable fobalbfedos hnng

gets flustered whenever someone compliments him ugh baejin is so soft i love

to the world he seems like a quiet dude who stepped out of a comic book

but to his classmates, friends and family, he’s just a normal neighborhood boy

his classmates were so hyped about his follower count in the first week but now they’re all chill asf about it

if some fan comes looking for jinyoung they’re all like,

“a fan of bae jinyoung? he’s in the toliet pissing rn lol you can wait for him if you want”

you followed baejin on accident one day lmao

you were preparing to move to a better house in a better area

while shoving everything into boxes, you were dyING

WHO KNEW YOU HAD SO MUCH UNIMPORTANT SHIT

deciding to take breather, you flopped down onto your bed and starting going through instagram

you know the thing

is it called discover ? ?? ?

the magnifying glass thing

oh it’s called the explore page

i don’t go on instagram a lot wheezes thanks once again google

moviNG ON FROM MY LACK OF KNOWLEDGE ABOUT INSTAGRAM

you were scrolling through that for some unknown reason

and you stumble across a picture of a p u p p e r !!!

guess who posted it!!!

that’s right!! baejin did!!

it wasn’t his dog but it was daehwi��s so it might as well be his tbh

you left a like

and it was then that your mother decided that it was the perfect time to check on you

“y/n!! how are you going-”

YOU SCRAMBLE OUT OF BED TO PRETEND TO BE DOING SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE

BUT YOUR MOM CATCHES YOU IN THE ACT LMAO

YOUR FINGER ALSO SLIPS AND PRESSES THE FOLLOW BUTTON

AND YOU DON’T NOTICE

until a few days later when baejin follows you back

you’re like

???

because why is an ulzzang or smt following you

so you go on his profile to do some snooping

and uh yoU’RE FOLLOWING HIM????

BUT WHY DID HE FOLLOW YOU BACK

YOUR ACCOUNT WAS JUST FULL OF YOUR COUSIN’S PUPPER

ALL THESE QUESTIONS

so you did what everyone would do

ask google

jk that’s just me

you shoot him a dm asking if you knew him

jinyoung just simply replied,

“nope”

????????????

baejin doesn’t follow back unless you’re a celebrity he likes or his classmate

but yOU POST PUPPY PICTURES SO

HE SWEARS HIS FINGER PRESSED THE FOLLOW BUTTON BY ITSELF

basically baejin’s only there for the dog posts

“i just like your dog”

you don’t really ask him more

he seemed intimidating and didn’t seem like he wanted to talk to you,,,,

HIS CURT REPLY WASN’T MEANT TO MAKE YOU THINK THAT WAY SUFOBSB

you moved house right

so your parents were like

“y/n go take these cookies over to the neighbors, we’re gonna be busy all day with adult stuff”

”aiight”

the house on your left belonged to a cute elderly couple

the moment they saw you they started cooing over you

the house on your right belonged to a small family

“oh! you look like you’re around the same age as my son!!! he’s out with friends right now but come by anytime soon! we’d love to introduce you to him!”

thIS ISN’T NEIGHBOR! JINYOUNG I SWEAR

so you return home in glory

from surviving awkward neighbor conversations

your mom calls you over because youR NEW SCHOOL UNIFORM ARRIVED!!!

SCREAMS

NOT BECAUSE OF NEW UNIFORM

BECAUSE OF NEW SCHOOL

AM I REALLY WRITING A CLICHE?

YES

this is like some kind of twilight rip off or smt lmao

come monday

you were a nervous wreck

lord knows if your peers would accept you

you woke up super early

more like you didn’t sleep but ok

you bid your sleepy parents farewell and shuffled your way to school lol

you greeted the front desk and they took you to the teacher’s office

where you dealt with 429794 papers

and made sure fOR THE 5000000TH TIME THAT YES THAT’S YOUR HOME NUMBER AND YES THAT’S YOUR DAD’S NAME

it took a while but eventually the bell rings and you follow your homeroom teacher to your brand new classroom!

the teacher goes in to make them shut up first lol

“good morning kids”

ignoredt™

“i sAID GOOD MORNING”

achievement get!!! get the attention of your class!!

“we have a new student today!! please welcome y/n to the family!”

SWEATS BUCKETS

THIS IS WHEN YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO GO IN

WIPES SWEATY PALMS

SHUFFLES IN

“hi i’m y/n”

AWKWARD SMILE

“oh cuTE!!!!”

“HEY WANNA JOIN THE KNITTING CLUB???”

“NOBODY’S INTERESTED IN YOUR KNITTING CLUB DAEHWI”

“ok y/n you can sit next to daehwi over there. you know, the one that said something about the knitting club”

and then she leaves

responsibility at it’s finest am i right

so you slide over to the boy

and plop down beside him

“hi! i’m lee daehwi!!”

but then a dude who looks really familiar to you for some reason drags him away

you can’t pinpoint where you’ve seen him before

weird 👀👀👀👀

the school day goes on with daehwi making small conversations with you during classes

you found a good group of people who shared the same interests and you fitted in perfectly

there was no point in worrying you worrywart

looking at you making friends so easily :’)

everything went off without a hitch

at the end of the school day, you waved to your new friends and started the walk home

stopping by a convenience store for a snack on the way though

there you see your seatmate, daehwi with that familiar boy

taking a selfie with the ice cream they’ve just bought

awks

JUST WALK BY Y/N

PRETEND YOU CAN’T SEE THEM

you make quick work of the store and buy ur snack in 0.2 seconds

but uh

the two boys were right smack dab in front of you

it seEMED LIKE YOU WERE FOLLOWING THEM

IT WASN’T YOUR FAULT THAT YOU LIVED IN THIS DIRECTION

you were lowkey hoping at every corner that they’d turn and stop making you seem like a creep

you started nearing your house and you were lowkey relieved

but

daehwi and other dude turn to you and ask,

“WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING US”

shiT WHAT THE FUCK

“I LIVE IN THIS DIRECTION MATE”

“UH-HUH THAT’S WHAT THEY ALL SAY”

“I SWEAR I LIVE RIGHT THERE-”

“ARE YOU JINYOUNG’S FAN OR SOMETHING OH MY GOD”

WHY DOES THE NAME SEEM SO FAMILIAR HM

“oh daehwi you’re home? with jinyoung too!”

I TOLD YOU THIS WASN’T NEIGHBOR! JINYOUNG

THIS IS NEIGHBOR! DAEHWI LOL

“ah! y/n! you’re going to the same school? well, i guess that’s perfect then! daehwi’s my son i mentioned the other day! daehwi, meet y/n, the neighbor i told you about”

awk x2

this might as well be a daehwi scenario fuck i need to add more baejin

“h i”

avoids eye contact

“uh, you know what i think i hear my mom calling haha sorry i’ll see you next time mrs lee!!”

DARTS INSIDE

what you didn’t notice was that while you and daehwi were avoiding eye contact

jinyoung’s eyes were fixed on you

yOU SEEM FAMILIAR HM I WONDER 👀👀👀👀

you didn’t even have time to get changed

but your mom was like

“y/N YOUR HOME!! GOOD. GO HANG UP THE LAUNDRY PLEASE”

???????

you wanted nothing more but to wallow in a corner of shame and awkwardness

but it’s your mom we’re talking about

so you obey

as you hang up your laundry

you get a glance of the lee family’s dog!!

you immediately went,

screw the laundry

go pet the puppy

but when you pet the pupper through the crack in the fence

you can’t help but notice how much he resembles that one dog you’ve seem on instagram

but it can’t be right???

the world can’t be that small-

“y/N STOP PETTING THE NEIGHBOR’S DOG AND HANG THE DANM LAUNDRY”

pouts aggressively

while hanging up your laundry, you could hear laughs from the lee household

they kinda sounded like they were dying

but you know better

finishing the laundry, you head back in, swiping open your phone

oh look your new classmate tagged you in a photo welcoming you oh that’s cute

hm, bae jinyoung that ulzzang or whatever posted oH IT’S A PHOTO OF DAEHWI AND HIM WITH ICE CREAM

BITCJ

NO WONDER THE DUDE LOOKED FAMILIAR

SMACKS HEAD

THE DUDE WITH 200K FOLLOWERS GOES TO THE SAME SCHOOL AS YOU????

WHY IS THE WORLD SO SMALL??

WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

and you’re wondering why baejin and daehwi were laughing like hyenas right

well

baejin went straight onto instagram becAUSE WAIT YOU LOOK THAT THE ONE PERSON WITH THE 10/10 DOGGO

and wow it indeed was you

daehwi was like

dude what you looking at???? i’m right here??? PAY ATTENTION TO ME PLS

baejin tells daehwi the story

and daehwi snorts

and the two start laughing like the dumb people they are

daehwi grabs baejin’s phone as he excuses himself to the toilet

for the second time in this fic lol

and shoots you a dm

'hey there ;) wanna hang sometime’

baejin returns a moment too late

the deed has been done

he FIGHTS lee daehwi for his phone back

‘sorry that was my friend’

‘no it wasn’t ;) i just wanna hang with you ;;;;)’

but uh

you could see the two fighting from your bedroom window

and it makes it even more amusing to know that they’re doing stupid shit

smiling, you reply,

'sure lol why not i’ll head over now’

because baejin didn’t seem like the intimidating person you thought he was before

and while you look around for a jacket to keep you warm

a high pitched scream comes in through your window

you snapped your head towards it

and make eye contact with jinyoung

who’s on his back with daehwi lying over his stomach

man that fight was intense

but that’s not the point

you send him a small smile and wave

he cracks a small smile back

and as soon as you disappear from your window

jinyoung starts hitting daehwi because whAT HAS HE DONE

LEE DAEHWI WINGMAN OF THE YEAR

you get interrogated by your parents but you successfully head out

and get welcomed by a huffing jinyoung

he fought daehwi to open the door lm a o

“hey!”

“h-hey”

“oh! y/n! i wondered who it was!! welcome, welcome”

mrs lee ushered you in and fussed over your light clothes

“ooooooo baejin has a crush”

“no daehwi i don’t-”

“then why’d you fight me for the door hm?”

shit man

knitting boy was right

whY’D HE DO THAT????

FOR A PERSON HE DOESN’T KNOW NONETHELESS

daehwi skips up to you and drags you up to his humble room

jinyoung following seconds after

bUT

AS SOON AS YOU ALL GET SETTLED IN HIS ROOM

DAEHWI EXCUSES HIMSELF TO THE BATHROOM

WHILE SENDING A SLY GRIN TOWARDS JINYOUNG

THAT SNEK

so you two just sit there facing each other

jinyoung avoiding all eye contact

and you just grinning

baejin opened his mouth to apologize for daehwi’s actions

but you spoke first

“if you wanted to hang so badly you could’ve said so yourself!! you didn’t have to get someone else to do it!!”

HE FLUSHES

“n-nO IT’S NOT LIKE THAT I-”

man teasing baejin would be adorable osodsb

“i’m joking, i saw everything through my window”

IUSVDBAIUBUWEO

BAEJIN IS NOW DEAD

YOU SAW HIM FIGHT DAEHWI FOR THE PHONE

HOW EMBARRASSING

you were melting inside

hOW CAN A HUMAN BE SO ADORABLE

daehwi returns from the bathroom a few moments later and starts chatting with you two

hE BASICALLY HAD TO START THE CONVOS BECAUSE BAEJIN’S EMBARRASSED AND YOU’RE JUST AWKWARD

the three of you end up getting closer

“wait the dog on your insta is daehwi’s dog??? i can’t believe you lied to me”

“????the dog on your insta isn’t yours either don’t act like you’re better”

and by the time your mom shot you a text telling you to come home for dinner and baejin had to go catch the last bus home, you three were the golden trio™ already

the next day at school, you were heading towards your cute gang of friends bUT

YOU WERE KIDNAPPED BY BAEHWI

THEY LITERALLY DRAGGED YOU AWAY

“YOU’RE HANGING WITH U S WE ARE YOUR NEW BEST FRIENDS”

??????????????????????????OK??????

whenever you hung out with the three, your eyes would keep going to jinyoung and sticking to him

you couldn’t help it

you blame his visuals

oh stop y/n u tsun

and jinyoung felt his heart swelling up whenever you smiled

yOU’RE BOTH SO CUTE

DAEHWI CAN TELL THAT Y’ALL CRUSHING ON EACH OTHER

you made your debut on baejin’s instagram a few weeks later

he posted a selfie of you himself

he was looking flawless but you were mid bite into your lunch lol

then came the wave of comments asking if you guys were dating

baEJIN IS FLUSTERED

HE DELETES THE PIC

but you realize and shoot him a text

‘why’d you delete my debut on your 200k insta :’<’

‘people were asking if we were dating’

‘oh. i quite liked it’

OVEUOWBOV?????AOFBOW

‘you mean the photo????’

THE BOY DOESN’T WANT TO MISUNDERSTAND OK

‘of course not lol i look like a mess. i meant the comments of us being together’

Y/N YOU SMOOTH CRIMINAL

BAEJIN IS OFFICIALLY DYING HELP THE BOY

‘is this a confession?’

lOOK HIS TEXT MAY SEEM CHILL BUT HE IS FAR AWAY FROM CHILL

‘if you like me back,,,, if you don’t like me that way then lets ignore this’

‘nO I DO LIKE YOU’

‘oH!!!!’

YOU DIDN’T EXPECT THIS

‘THEN, UH, ARE WE TOGETHER???’

‘NOT OVER TEXT BAE JINYOUNG.’

?????

baejin’s confuzzled

but the next school day comes

and jinyoung’s lowkey nervous for some reason

bUT THE SECOND HE WALKS THROUGH THE GATES

YOU PUSH EVERYONE OUT OF THE WAY AND HUG HIM

“/now/ we’re together”

EVERYONE’S LIKE

“OOOOOOOOOOOO DID YOU HEAR THAT???? THEY’RE TOGETHER”

DAEHWI IN LEAD

I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GET TO DATE AN ACTUAL ANGEL

his followers better be ready for cute pictures of you taking over his account

baejin would 1000000% have a pupper later on in life fight me on this

siGH INSTAGRAM FAMOUS! JINYOUNG??? MORE LIKE HIGHSCHOOLER! JINYOUNG WHY AM I LIKE THIS

i hope y’all enjoyed it though aaaaaa if i don’t seem as sarcastic or dumb as usual it’s because i’ve just finished my exams and i’m tired asf also is this really 2.5k WORDS??? I CANT- IT’S A WHOLE 1000+ WORDS MORE THAN POLICE OFFICER MINHYUN

also am i publishing this when mama’s happening i- apparently jihoon’s in a choker omfg- soMEONE HOLD ME

#wanna one #bae jinyoung #produce 101 #instagram famous! au #broduce 101 #wanna one scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #c9 #c9 bae jinyoung #bae jinyoung scenarios #wanna one imagines #wanna one aus #bae jinyoung imagines #bae jinyoung au

396 notes · View notes

translightyagami · 7 years ago

Note

Lawlight (duh) for the ship thing Also, if you're into any of these - Drarry, Malec, Ichiruki, Sakunaru

uhhhh i only know drarry tbh but not well enough for a ship meme dlfajsda sorry. anyway here’s lawlight.

who is more likely to hurt the other?

they both hurt each other on some level just bc they hv v combative personalities and also they r WATER SIGNS which means they r constantly in a fight over who is more valid. jokes on them tho: they r both unvalid as hell. light will center an entire week around getting back at L for something he did bc he’s basically amy dunne playing the long con all the time. L will hurt light in ways that last. he’ll just come out of nowhere with something like, “maybe it would be better if we hadn’t met” and light will just go quiet. that’s like, a sore spot L will push on if they argue bc he knows light is incredibly insecure abt his standing in L’s life. idk man. they love each other but there’s a lot of stuff they’re working thru and they’re leaving some scars along the way.

who is emotionally stronger?

hm. i think L is. he’s toughened up from all his experiences as the world’s greatest detective and had to deal w a lot more emotional crises than light. when it comes to big setbacks, he’s more likely to take them in stride whereas light is like that post that’s like “i’ll deal with it but you gotta let me be dramatic first.” before anything, he’s gotta scream in his scream jar then he can put those anxieties into the fridge and go back to figuring out his life.

who is physically stronger?

they hv abt the same physical strength. that’s less of a contest between them, altho light does sort of like it when L can lift him up. he’s done the same for L a couple times but its more fun to b carried than to b the carrier. anyway. if ur asking who wins more fights? then i would say that light wins a lot of their brawls bc he’s not afraid to play dirty. he has a sibling, he’s fought these battles many times before. its no rules just right in this house.

who is more likely to break a bone?

light has a lot of sports related injuries but not a lot of broken bones. meanwhile, mr. stays inside all day on my laptop has had three broken bones all from falling down the stairs or slipping on shit. just, like, hold on bc i’m picturing light and L sitting in the urgent care waiting room, both with broken arms bc of a roller skating accident. i don’t know how ppl break bones.

who knows best what to say to upset the other?

see this question and the first question r so close and so the answer is like both of them know each other well enough to hv their fingers poised over a particular emotionally destructive button at all times. i only say L is better at upsetting light bc he’s more willing to go the extra inch of underhandedness. of course, light nvr shows that he’s upset on the outside. no, he remains cool and calm, laughs it off probably, and then goes into the bathroom to hv a full scale meltdown in the dry bathtub. to b fair, that doesn’t happen often. its only during big, BIG arguments.

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument?

oh i don’t think either of them hv apologized once in their whole lives so it was a big step for them to apologize to each other. light caves first, trudging into L’s office with the most pathetic look on his face and being like “i’m sorry i called you a trash bag with arms.” and then L sort of sits there and has an inner conflict for a second before saying, “i’m sorry i told you looked like a kohl’s mannequin but not hot.”

who treats who’s wounds more often?

if their fights ever get too intense and someone gets hurt, its usually L knocking his head against something sharp and light has to like sit him on the toliet so he can fix him up. when he’s administering first aid, light starts to fuss over L and makes a lot of concerned noises.

“that hurts.” L squirms as light gives him stitches. “don’t pull too hard.”

“relax.” light says. “i’m actually quite good at this.”

(will i ever stop quoting that one line? no, i won’t.)

who is in constant need of comfort?

i don’t know abt comfort but light needs a lot of reassurance, both verbal and physical, that L does care abt him. he needs to b assured of his place in the world and in their relationship which L isn’t super great abt doing. but light is usually vocal abt when he needs comfort around L, whomst he rarely hides much of himself from, so its nvr a problem of L just not knowing. he just has no clue how to react.

there’s been a scarce few times when L has needed comfort after a taxing case but light is right there to just sort of, uhhh, hold him. let him make some horrible noises and talk. they try to b there for each other. its something they’re working on.

who gets more jealous?

oh for sure light. he gets flushed w jealousy anytime L shows a little more attention to someone else who could possibly usurp light’s romantic position in L’s life. its not fair. those ppl nvr worked as hard as he did to get L’s attention, to get his love. L thinks its kind of funny and will do shit to make light go green eyed. but that shit stops after they work with a french officer who gets a little too flirty w light and L just like, shuts that down. not so fun to b on the receiving end of that kind of jealousy.

who’s most likely to walk out on the other?

light. he’ll fucking do it at the drop of a hat too, just fucking walk out and not come back for three days. of course, they both think they can handle being separated so neither of them calls the other. but on the third day light’s trying to eat mcdonalds in his car and put a sausage mcmuffin in the hole L’s absence made so he goes to call him but his phone rings and it’s L on the other line like “please come back i forgot how quiet things r when ur not around also if ur at mcdonalds can u get me an apple pie okay thanks i love you.”

who will propose?

dklfsadlsfkj neither of them. they don’t want to get married tbh. i just literally can’t see them ever wanting to get married. if ur gonna put a gun to my head abt it tho, i would probably say light does but its only bc his mom started a campaign to get him to make an honest man out of L.

who has the most difficult parents?

um. i mean i guess light’s parents r more difficult. its not that they’re difficult tbh its more like they’re still adjusting to the life their son decided to lead bc its waaayyy different than what they thought was gonna happen. like first he’s gay (which isn’t a huge surprise to them like they’ve seen queer eye for the straight guy. they know things.) and then he’s dating some 24 yr old reclusive detective that happens to hv been soichiro’s boss for like a couple months and now light just sort of solves crimes w his boyfriend. so they’re being supportive but they’re also a little bit confused so sometimes it ends up in awkward situations where everyone’s at the dinner table and sachiko is like “so. what do your parents do, L?” and L is like “i don’t know who my parents were. i think they’re dead.” and she’s like, “oh. hm. well. that must b rlly rough for you.” meanwhile light is p much eating his napkin so he doesn’t start screaming at how little control he has over this shitty conversation.

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public?

they r rarely in public but uh. light does. he’s getting used to being out and part of him just rlly enjoys the physical evidence of their relationship that hand holding provides. that closet was so suffocating. it’s time to let those hands breath a little.

who comes up for the other all the time?

i still don’t entirely understand what this means entirely but i’ll take my best stab at it. i think L comes up for light a lot, esp if he’s talking to like the wammies or literally anyone who isn’t light himself or his family. like, p much everyone is like “but.....he’s kira???” and L is like “look. listen. i don’t know why but he’s. he’s rlly important to me. so its maybe better if we don’t shit talk the guy who sucks my dick? at least not rn.” he doesn’t do it v often bc usually the insults thrown toward light r well deserved but sometimes he does. light doesn’t come up for L like ever. he nvr talks to anyone abt L. whomst would he tell? yamamoto? secretly he goes on a couple message boards tho and send mean anon messages to ppl talking shit abt L but that’s as close as he gets.

who hogs the blankets?

L will b wrapped in a big old blanket bundle like that picture of homer simpson where he’s like “ah. i’m just a big cozy cinnamon bun.” light’s like curled up on his side of the bed w just the sheet but then L reaches over and drags him into the blanket bundle so they r both toasty cinnamon buns together.

who gets more sad?

L is more prone to bouts of depression and can get lethargic if something hits him the wrong way. the first few times it happened, light tried to shake it out of him but he’s learned since then that he’s just gotta ride this shit out. so for a few days or weeks, he’s just got a sad boyfriend so they watch a lot of netflix and don’t get a ton of work done.

light v rarely gets sad. he’s got a v positive outlook on life and doesn’t let a lot of stuff ruin his mood. but when he is sad, its like a big event and he’s crying in the dry tub in just his briefs and a sweatshirt while listening to sufjan on repeat. look. he’s just gotta get it out of his system and then he’ll b fine!

who is better at cheering the other up?

light is better at finding stuff to cheer L up. if L is in a funk, he’ll go search for a good case or an interesting lead so he can present it to him like a cat dropping a mouse in front of him. L is.....not so good at cheering light up. all he knows is how to piss him off. but after a while he starts to puzzle out that light flourishes under praise so he’ll try to keep telling him what a good job he’s doing.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

i said this in my mikami/light post but uh, light laughing is so uproarious that he just. whacks the person making him laugh on the back super hard. L doesn’t do anything the first time but the second time he grabs light by the wrist and is like “don’t. control ur self, u loud scream laughing monster.” light keeps his hands to himself when he laughs after that. he’s actually quite embarrassed of his natural laugh bc it is so obnoxious so he often tones it down but sometimes!!! shit’s just too funny!!!

who is more streetwise?

neither of these two know a god damn thing abt the streets. ok, L knows a little bit but he forgot it after building a giant fucking building for one investigation team of like six ppl.

who is more wise?

L knows more abt the world and has more experience than light does. he’s not quite wise?? but he’s definitely more knowledgeable and it smacks him in the face a lot how super young light is. how much he just doesn’t know. but L’s only in his mid twenties. what the fuck does he rlly know?

who’s the shyest?

mmm. they aren’t shy ppl by nature so i’d say neither of them. esp when they’re together. combining their levels of pure confidence is like putting a fire in a room with more fire; it just increases the amount of fire. as their relationship progresses, they get more assertive w each other and idk man. they just don’t do that shy shit.

who boasts about the other more?

mmmm. i don’t think they brag abt each other a lot but i think light kind of wants to brag abt being w L. i mean, he didn’t think it would happen but then L did come and want to start something with him and its like?? wrow. but he doesn’t rlly hv anyone to brag to so he just sort of lets it sit like a smoldering piece of coal in his stomach, keeping him warm. L exculsively brags abt light during video conferences w the wammies like “MY PARTNER, WHO IS A GENIUS AND V ATTRACTIVE, AND I, WHO IS DATING THIS ATTRACTIVE GENIUS, HV FOUND A CLUE” and like everyone rolls their eyes like “dude u told us the same shit last week like please please please stop telling us abt ur hot boyfriend.”

who sits on who’s lap?

light!!! sits!!! on L’s lap!!!! all the time!!! he curls up in there like a cat and plays w L’s hair.

“am i making it hard to do ur work?” he asks, fingers scratching on L’s scalp.

“yes. but that’s okay. light shouldn’t move.”

so he doesn’t and just falls asleep there, hand on the back of L’s neck and drooling on his shoulder. its cute in like an ugly way.

#death note #dslafjskdjfhaskjfh this is so LONG #why do i take so much time w these like c'mon dude #u got other shit to do #:/#devilcornflakes

21 notes · View notes

sithlordintraining · 7 years ago

Text

She’s No Angel (Part 17)

A/N: Hi, I’m not feeling too well. I failed my quiz today (second quiz at that) and I had all the right answers but I second guess so bad. I’m crying rn because I literally am so scared that I will lose a scholarship if my grade for drops and so far, I’m failing two classes. I really don’t know why I have such bad test anxiety. I literally know the material!! Pourquoi moi?!! And I’m in tears even more because I found out that one of the violinists that played until the end of the Titanic was a true love story and like he really sacrificed his love to calm others and he knew he wasn’t going to make it home so he died with violin strapped to heart which was an engagement gift from his fiance. I’m going to bed, I have too many emotions rn.

She’s No Angel Master List

warning: sexual assault

You returned and thankfully sleep welcomed you easily. In the middle of the night you felt something heavy against your body, then soft wet lips make its way across your face and unto your lips. Drowsily, you opened your mouth for more and the owner of those lips were more than happy to comply. You lazily moaned into the kiss. Dragging your hands to rest above your head, the other gloved hand worked to undo the buttons of your nightgown. Freeing your right breast, the leather hand groped at your breast before twisting your nipple. You let out a sharp breath and arched your back, only to feel his hard member rest on your thigh. “Kylo.” you lazily moaned. The lips ceased all movement. “Kylo?” Your eyes fluttered open to the sound of the Fallanian accent. “Mi-Michael?” You stuttered out embarrassed.

“I knew it.” Michael’s hazel eyes bore into your (y/e/c) eyes. “I didn’t believe it at first. I thought it was all him, I mean you’re a very attractive girl. But you, I couldn’t imagine someone like you fucking your superior. But, it all makes sense the way you talk to him, defend him. And you even denied ME to return to your quarters, only to visit him!” His eyes seemed to grow darker under the moonlight. “Was seducing me under your plan to keep Fallania under the First Order?” You shook your head profusely and you tried to move out his hold. “I liked you.” Michael’s tone grew angry as he tightened his grip and dropped his weight on you. He traced a line from your lips down to your center, pushing up the nightgown. “No, no, no.” You wiggled. About to let out a scream, he grabbed your jaw. “Don’t even think about it. I’ll have my men hold you down.” He lied, but you didn’t know and your eyes bugged in terror. His lips attached to your neck and dragged his gloved fingers down to your wet center. “Look at you already wet for him. That’s no fair, I’m the one doing all the work.” Michael’s teeth nipped at your skin and you let out a yelp. “I bet you dream about him.” He dragged a finger down between your clothed lips. “I bet you touch yourself to thought of him. Curling fingers inside of you, pretending it’s him, relishing in the thought of your cum covering his gloved fingers.” As he massaged your labia. You held back an involuntary moan as you looked up at your hands that he held down. You realized that his other hand was his sprained wrist. You clenched your thighs tightly inflicting pain. He only winced and didn’t retract his hand. “Ah, you can’t help but want more.” His devilish smiled burned into your skin. “This just makes me wonder are you his whore or is he your pet!” Michael spat and before you knew it, he was thrown off the bed, hitting his head. You shot up to see a maskless Kylo Ren, shoulders and chest heaving. Haphazardly you buttoned your nightgown and removed yourself from the bed. You inched yourself towards Kylo as you stayed as close to the bed as possible making sure Michael didn’t move. Kylo watched your shaking form move towards him; he held out a hand for you. Michael stirred and let out a groan, only for your legs to give out in fear. In one fluid movement, he caught you and scooped you up.

Embarrassed and frightened, you hid your face in his chest. Sniffling, you catch the smell of the one you missed so much. This was all so terrible, maybe you should just give into your feelings. And Kylo really did try to do better, even if it was on his own terms. Kylo stalked onto his Command shuttle and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. Turning your head away, you watched as he briskly walked past the cell he threw you in no earlier than four months ago. The blast doors opened revealing a small, yet comfortably cot. He lowered you onto as you slowly unlatched your hold from him. “Stay here, I’ll be back.” Outside, you could hear him instruct his Knights and your troopers before leaving.

When Kylo returned he was fuming from his discussion with the King. He went to check on you and with the late hour, he thought you would be asleep. He paused in front of the bunk door, he definitely told one of his Knights to keep watch at the door. He entered, only to see the Knight standing there. “Sorry Master. She didn’t want to be alone.” He bowed before leaving you two. He removed his mask. “Why are you still up?” Kylo eyes landed on your drained form. The tears stained your cheeks as you clutched your knees into your chest. “Y/N?” Kylo hesitantly moved towards you. Your eyes shifted to him and he froze in his spot. Kylo went to sit on the cot, but not too close. “Are you . . . okay?” He gulped. It was a dumb question to ask. Of course, you weren’t okay! When you didn’t answer, he looked down. “Thank you.” Your soft strained voice pulled him from his thoughts. Kylo shook his head. “You shouldn’t be thanking me. I didn’t do enough.” You furrowed your brows in confusion. “I went to confront the King about his son and he disregarded it and laughed. He claimed ‘boys will be boys’ and blamed his treatment of women on his deceased mother, may the galaxy rest her soul. That was no excuse to do what he did to you.” His voice grew deeper. Your lips trembled as you thought ‘Fallania is going to leave the First Order.’ “You don’t have to worry about that, you should be sleeping.” “I can’t.” You closed your eyes tightly. “Just lay down, I’ll . . . I’ll just use the force to-” Kylo tried to explain to you as you laid down. He extended his hand, only for you to roughly grab his hand pull him down alongside you. “Woah.” Kylo collapsed on the cot, almost squishing you, as he watched the tears form in your eyes.

He wasn’t expecting you to break down and wrap yourself around him. Your arms pulled at the black fabric as your tears stained his cowl. Kylo placed his hands awkwardly on your waist and started rubbing circles on your lower back, making sure that none of you would fall. His mind flashed back to the time he had held you in his office. He breathed a sigh on the top of your head. “I’m sorry!” You cried out. “I’m so sorry!” You squeezed him tighter as your mind scrambled. “You don’t have to talk about it, Y/N,” Kylo whispered. “No, I-I.” You tried to hold back the sob that racked through your body. You shook your head again. “No, no, no.” You clutched onto his forearms, digging your nails into the fabric wrapping around his arms. Biting his lip, he stopped fighting the urge to look inside your mind:

He saw you in your pre-pubescent form. Your face was chubbier, with random strands of curls that didn’t make it into your bun, framing your face and limbs spread across the floor as you cleaned the hardwood floors. You turned your head when the bell on the top of the door rung out, signalling someone had enter. Craning your head back, from what you can see, were three very large men. And their voices were so deep, you swore you could feel the ground shake. One of the men eyes shifted and fell on you. Quickly, you went back to back to cleaning. After a few minutes of back and forth with, Missy, the receptionist, she called out for you. Getting up, you nervously fixed your dress, before making your way over. “Y/N, can you be a sweetheart and to Madame V for me please.” She smiled with eyes shifting in panic. Nodding, the men began to follow you; as you walked down the long wood-floored hallway down to Madame V’s office, one man followed very closely. Basically, stepping on the back of your boots. Knocking five times, she answered. With one glance down, you went to take a step away before the man put a tight grip on your shoulder. “What are you doing?” Madame V let out a breath. “We want the girl for the hour.” He said flatly. “Okay fine, I’ll let you pick from my girls. But, she’s not one of them. She’s just the help, so let her go. ” Madame V crossed her arms. He let you go, only for him to catch your arm as you went to run away. “If she’s just the help, I see why not? She’s probably the cheapest thing in her?” His shaded eyes examined the gaudy interior, while the other men laughed. Madame V unfolded her arms and pulled at you. “I said she’s not one of them.” She gritted her teeth, tugging you. One of the men pushed her hard, making her tumble backwards. You tried to wiggle and scratch out of his grip. “A feisty fighter, I like this one.” He licked his lip, lifting you over his shoulder. Before you could think, you screamed “MOMMY!” The men froze turning to the lady that was ready to attack. “The Madame is raising her daughter in the whorehouse?” He scrunched his face. Madame V’s chest rose up and down enraged as both were at a stand still. “Even better!” Before he could take a step Madame V stopped the men. “No, leave her. Take me instead.” The men seemed to look at each other to ponder over the thought. Throwing the child to one of the many girls that had congregated in the main hallway. The man that once held you shoved her inside, while the other two followed behind concealing the two that entered before them. Before the door closed, you saw your her teary eyes glance at you. “NO! No, no, no, NO!” You struggled against the girls that were pulling you away from the scene. “Please Y/N.” They begged as they pulled you up the stairs. “She’s doing this to protect you. She loves you.”

When Kylo snapped back his eyes had become watery and with one blink a tear rolled down his eye. Why would someone want to do that to a child? Why would someone want to purposely hurt you? You didn’t deserve that or this, or anything. “I’m so helpless.” You cried out. “I’m so helpless. I couldn’t help myself from Michael, I couldn’t help my mother.” You shook your head as more tears stained your face. “I’m useless and I can’t help the First Order, and Hux is going to terminate me.” You dragged out the E, only to cough through your tears. With a sudden urge, Kylo tightly pulled you into his chest. “No, no, no. Don’t say that. Don’t say that, please Y/N. Please don’t say that.” He squeezed you tight, nuzzling his nose into your hair before he continued. “Y/N, no; without you, the First Order would be next to nothing. I would be nothing. Y/N you’ve helped me, you’ve changed me. For the better. You’ve changed the whole Order. Once you started working there, you bought youth and life. And I hated it, only because I didn’t get a chance to experience.” Kylo admitted his feelings, for the third time out loud to you. But, this time you actually listened. And he knew this. “We still have two days remaining on this mission. You don’t have to go back home right now.” His hands ran through your hair and you lifted your eyes to meet his. “You can stay with me. I mean the Knights of Ren.” His eyes shifted down to the sliver space that appeared between your two embracing bodies. “It’s a small moon where we go to train. If you want, I can take you there for the remainder of the days. And I’ll contact Captain Phasma and let her know what happened. Would-would you like that? Is that okay?” Kylo brows furrowed as he searched your red (y/e/c) eyes. With a hiccup, you nodded. Kylo started to maneuver his body away from you, in order to get up. Your arms lazily fell around as his waist. “Can you come back, please?” He turned to look at you, seeing your tired eyes, Kylo nodded. “Of course.” He took your arms and placed them across your stomach and brushed some hair behind your ear, before leaving.

P.S.: Only 3 parts left before the next break. Hit me up with comments, concerns, jokes, reminding me that Kylo Ren passed out when he got a blowjob, anything. I miss talking to you guys. I JUST WANT TO STATE: Right now, from this point on, no matter what happens in the sequel trilogy, this series will end the way I want it to end. Events that I want to happen. People I choose to die. So if it is somewhat similar to the movie: I did it first.

67 notes · View notes

prplzorua · 8 years ago

Text

Sleepless Night

Anxiety has always and will forever be a child of the night. No one could deny that. Decked out in his usual garb of all black, the facet could easily blend in with the 3am shadows, which is exactly what he was doing now. Queitley, he moved, hood up and headphones in, the fridge was his destination. This had been the routine for the past few days now. He'd stay in his room all day with the windows shut and the black curtains drawn. The room would be just dark enough, but yet he would not be able to fall asleep. At first, he assumed it was his insomnia, that's was on Monday, oh today was Monday too, huh- screw it time is an illusion. He ignored his inability to sleep up until Wednesday. On Wednesday he did fall asleep, only to wake up gasping and sputtering his way into awareness, the odd thing is, he couldn't even remeber the nightmare. Thursday, he didn't bother. Friday...what did I do on Friday? Oh right, stared at the ceiling then came down for some snacks. Saturday Morality dragged him out of bed, "you need to come spend time with us-", said the Parent. Anxiety sighed, he had only just closed his eyes. He was up all day. Sunday was movie night, Thomas had implemented it a couple months back, something about getting relax together as one? Something like that. They watched Sing together, it was quite amusing in his opinion. Prince obviously enjoyed it and so did Morality as both of them would sing loudly together at majority of the songs. Logic surprised him, of course the Teacher didn't sing, but he did clap along, as did Thomas. The movie night ended around 1am, everyone was asleep, except him. Digging around in the fridge he found some strawberry yogurt, shrugging he grabbed a spoon and sat down on his black, one man, leather couch to enjoy the semi-sweet confection. ----- Logic noticed it first. On Tuesday, Anxiety was far more lethargic than usual. The Teacher had greeted the younger facet only to receive a grunt and a small nod as a substitute for "good morning". It continued on into the afternoon, when Morality greeted him and he received a grunt in turn Logic was puzzled as to why Anxiety was being closed off with them, well more closed off than usual, but he chalked it up as the younger simply having a bad day. ------ Prince noticed it next. Wednesday he saw Anxiety sitting in the commons and typing away at his phone. "Greetings Anxiety" The younger stopped, looked up and grunted something akin to "good morning" Prince blinked. "Are you feeling well?" " 'M fine" And that was all the reply he got. Anxiety picked himself up and departed to his room. "Rude", pouted Prince. The Royal huffed and made his way to the kitchen, a nice breakfast would be would take his mind off Anxiety's gruff behavior. Unfortunately for him the same thing happened at dinner, the darker facet simply brushed, well trudged past him with out saying a word. Could he slouch any lower? ------ Thomas noticed too. He wasn't making a video per say, just a little idle camera testing, a new angle trick he wanted to try out. Of course anything new and different possibly warranted a negative out come and thus his need to summon Anxiety. The facet would be sure to tell him everything that could go wrong, which in turn would allow him to fix it, ah good old reverse physiology. But when Anxiety was summoned onto the stairs, he was queit. "Anxiety? You ok?" "I'm fine", he grumbled, sheesh, someone was grumpier than usual today. "Oookay, so what do you think-" "That angle is atrocious, why is it tilted so low? The lighting is too dark for that area, do you want people to see you? That needs to move over to the left..." ----- When Tomas finally finished fixing, well everything, he turned to his anxious side, he was going to ask the other what else might need adjustments... Anxiety was nodding off right where he sat. His head was propped up by his hand and he was leaning on the railings of the stairs. The facet was obviously exhausted, yet he kept fighting sleep. For every time his head bobbed, his elbow would slowly slide off his thigh.... His head bobbed. His elbow slid. His head bobbed. His elbow slid. His head bobbed. His elbow slipped. Anxiety jerked up, slightly startled, blinking and groaning slightly when he realized what happened. The facet stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes. This was the first time Thomas realized that Anxiety wasn't wearing his eye shadow, those were actual dark circles under his eyes. When the facet turned to look at him, Thomas quickly faced the other way, whistling, the utmost epitome of innocence. ----- "Guys, have you noticed anything wrong with Anxiety?" "Well he's been queit-", shrugged Logic "And moody", piped Prince. "He hasn't been sleeping well" Thomas, Logic and Prince turned to Morality, the parent had a worried frown on his face. "Why?" "I'm not sure son-" "Not your son, but is the something wrong with him?" "I'm guessing you mean nightmares Thomas?" "It could be that Logic-" "Or he just can't fall asleep-" "That too Prince, but, why?" "Well, there could be a lot of reasons as to why Anxiety can't fall asleep-" "How 'bout we just help him fall asleep? Before he like, falls on his face? He already has bags the size of the moon-" "Roman be nice" "Sorry Dad" Thomas chuckled, Logic rolled his eyes, but there was a slight up tilt of his lips. ---- "Ok, so everyone agrees to the plan?" "Of course" "It seems applicable" "You bet!" Thomas laughed, "alright, operation bed time is a go!" ---- His eyes were closing on him again. Dammit. He almost face planted this morning while he was tell Thomas to fix the absolute disaster that was the living- aka video-room. He wanted to sleep, he really did, his body was tired and his brain was beginning to feel like mush. But every time he'd wake up from a nightmare he could not remeber. He was just about to give up and deal with the invisible nightmare, when he was summoned. The abrupt departure from his room to the stairs made him slightly dizzy. Blinking away the stars his eyes landed on his host and eveyone else. "Wha-?" "We're having a movie night!" Exclaimed Morality. "But it's not Sunday-" "It's not, that's why this is not a regular movie night, since we have nothing tommorow, we're going to see how many movies we can watch until we pass out-" "Ookay, what kind of movies prettyboy?" Prince smirked. Anxiety sighed, "We're going all out Disney marathon aren't we?" Logic nodded. Dad smiled, Prince had the biggest shit eating grin ever and Thomas was laughing at them all. And so it began, a Disney Marathon paluza, Morality and Logic cuddled up (though Logic would never admit it) on one couch, while Thomas, Prince and Anxiety were on the next. ------ It was about half way to midnight when Prince felt a weight on his shoulder. Anxiety was beginning to nod off. Gently the Royal maneuvered the younger facet to lay comfortably onto his chest. "Aww", gushed Thomas and Morality "Shhh! Don't wake him!", whisper shouted the fanciful side. Either Anxiety didn't care or was far too tired to care, the younger curled onto Prince, gripping his suit and burying his face into the elder's chest. "Awww" The Royal rolled his eyes before tentatively running his fingers through Anxiety's hair. The younger seemed to enjoy this as he leaned to the touch. Shrugging internally, Prince continued his ministrations, Anxiety's hair was really soft. ----- When morning came, Logic found him self shaken awake via Morality. He gave the other a questioning look but the he father simply pointed to his right. Following the Parent's gesture, Logic turned to see what was undoubtedly a cute sight. Thomas was asleep leaning on the arm of the couch, Prince was leaning on Thomas and Anxiety was curled up on Prince's chest. Morality chuckled quietly and took a picture, surprisingly Logic smiled and took one aswell. ---- AN:// there, I gave fluff! Rellllllllll take it, take it all XD Mobile won't let me use Italics and bold sooo.... life Anyway it's midnight rn so time to tag some peeps. @prinxietyhell @thebrightsun @prinxietys @anxietyismycuppatea Tell me if I missed anyone :)

#prinxiety #my fic #thomas sanders #sanders sides #rellllllllll take the fluff #XD #prince sanders #logic sanders #morality sanders #anxiety sanders

516 notes · View notes

thespace-dragon · 8 years ago

Note

Hi Mogi! Are there any Klance fics that you would recommend? Thanks :)

Oh good golly gosh, here goes my afternoon, because youre about to get a shit ton. xD

If you want to peruse my bookmarks feel free. the link has been filtered down to only klance fics, enjoy your time sifting through 150+ fics ^^; (i have no self control) And then theres any of my stuff here because i need validation and have no shame with self plugs, but ill put the focus on the other fics for right now. ^^

But here are the ones i reallllyyyy recommend outside of the big name fics that literally the whole fandom knows about.:

Make Me Your Home by Reader115

Summary: “Oh my god, Keeeith,” Lance wheezed. “Keith you’re the best drunk space cadet I’ve ever seen.”“Space cadet,” Keith mumbled. He repeated the words again although his eyes had zeroed in on Lance’s hands and Lance offered no resistance when Keith picked one of them up and pulled it possessively towards his lap. He began to gently trace over Lance’s fingers, sending shivers up Lance’s arm and down his spine. “You have looong fingers,” Keith murmured after a few moments.Keith’s face perked up then, as if he’d just had a brilliant idea, and Lance could almost not wait to hear what new obscure thought had entered Keith’s pretty head. He was prepared to laugh, and instead found himself shivering again as Keith leaned far into his personal bubble, lips practically touching Lance’s ear when he spoke next.“I bet you could reach all kinds of things, Lance.”Update: Now with ART by suitboxers!!WC: 38169 (6/6)General Notes: just, omg? this fic has like it all, and it all fits into s2?? yes please?? i could not get enough of this fic and talking with the author, there is a rumor that they might write an epilogue and i like high key died. 10/10

Today, anew by MemeKonVLD

Summary: “Lance.”Lance’s eyebrows furrow in concern for a second before his whole face goes gentle and open.“Hey buddy, everything okay?”Keith nods. Then shakes his head, then opens his mouth to let out a noisy sob before he’s hugging the air out of Lance, grip vise tight.Lance hugs him back. That’s one of the great things about him— he doesn’t— he doesn’t need explanations for things like this. He doesn’t make Keith jump through hoops, the way other people might— he’s just— he just knows what Keith needs in times like this. No façades, no posturing.(Or: the one where Keith is trapped in a time loop. A time loop from hell.)WC: 5910 (6/6 chapters)General Notes: this was interesting to say the least, and one of my latest reads. I really enjoyed, told from Keiths pov and he’s stuck in a time loop. Angsty, but has a happy ending. 8/10

Voltron Cafe by PinkHitman

Summary: Lance is the number one butler at a maid cafe, and his number one customer? Just his old High School rival Keith.WC: 66422 (14/?)General Notes: This is really funny and quirky. Lance is adorable in all his dorky glory. The whole team is there and i cant count the times ive had to stifle laughter reading it because it was 3am and i really needed to sleep but, hey what are you going to do xD theres also a blog @voltron-cafe and the art is just as quirky as the fic and i love it to all get out. 9/10

a truth in the blood by angstinspace

Summary: “I’m Galra, Lance.”It’s the first time he’s said those words out loud––and to Lance of all people. He should feel horrified at himself but somehow, he doesn’t. In fact, an eerie calmness has settled over him. Everything comes sharply into focus as he stands there, still holding Lance’s wrist, breathing in and out, waiting for a response. A post “Blade of Marmora” fix-it fic. Mostly broganes & klance bonding.WC: 7489General Notes: So theres a little bit of angst in this, but it does a really good job of filling in the blanks of what could have happened between ep8 and ep9 of s2. I really liked it, has some Broganes in there and Klance bonding. 8/10

Starlight by epiproctan

Summary: For once, Lance tries to be responsible for something. Namely, his feelings. Needless to say it doesn’t go well.WC: 7719General Notes: Lance pov, honestly this boy tries so hard to keep the team dynamic the same, but it never goes well. goes with the trope that EVERYONE knows about mutual pining klance, but goes a different direction just for the hell of it. i loved it. 9/10

He Who Fights Monsters by magisterpavus

Summary: In a world where monstrous dragons terrorize humanity daily, the Garrison trains valiant Knights to slay the evil beasts and defend Earth. But when Knight cadet Lance Espinosa is kidnapped by a strange red dragon who kills its own kind, certain truths are revealed…and so are the true monsters. WC: 64888 (13/13)General Notes: holy fuck do i love this fic, cuz like, wow. Im a sucker for dragons and i loved the way the author inocrporated them into this fic and made it freaking work. A+++. Lots of action, drama-rama and Lance learns a thing or two about hs feelings along the way. 10/10

Burning Love by TeaAndKittens

Summary: An injury sustained on the job for firefighter Keith means an extended medical leave that makes him feel useless and angry. He’s so desperate to get back to his crew at Station 5 that he’s almost willing to try anything - except yoga. Especially after Hunk calls this friend of his that owns a yoga studio and Keith gets supporting evidence for his claim that only crazy people practice yoga.Somehow, despite all of that, Hunk and Shiro manage to bully him into at least trying it. He shows up for that first class expecting to hate it. What he’s not expecting is for Hunk’s friend to be hot like the fire of a thousand suns. Or even more insane in person.Or: Keith’s life. So Hard.WC: 7017 (2/?)General Notes: Firefighter Keith and yoga instructor lance,,, um yes please! this fic is just getting started but i really love it so far. 8/10

Sharps and Accidentals by Zizzani

Summary: Keith is a talented up and coming violin virtuoso. Lance hates him immediately.Or an AU in which Lance and Keith both attend the same music university. Keith is deaf. Lance is Trying™.WC: 39528 (9/?)General Notes: ok, so i just really love this a lot. im a band nerd so music is like my thing, and this is honestly great. Deaf keith, and lance… poor lance, hes trying ok? Im a couple updates behind, but i really love it a lot. 9/10

bouncing off exit signs by steelthighsvoideyesSummary:

Summary: This is the story of two absolute idiots who keep searching for what they’ve already found. WC: 40147 (yes on chap xD)General Notes: this is like one of those comfort fics for me, i binged it one night, and it was amazing. Based off the song Closer by The Chainsmokers. honeslty, well done. 10/10

Duly Noted by TeaAndKittens

Summary: Keith has a box full of scraps of paper, a lovingly archived collection of all the notes Lance has written him so far in their relationship. Their son has a box just like it, and soon their newly adopted daughter will too.Or: 5 (-ish) notes Lance wrote to Keith, beginning with the one that started it all, and 1 Keith wrote backWC: 4913General Notes: this was so fucking cute that i really couldnt stop smiling the whole way through. lance leaving notes everywhere is just so him. 10/10

The Quiet by MilkTeaMiku

Summary: Does he not realise he’s dead?Keith can see ghosts. As a part of his Garrison training, he’s sent to a hospital to do one year of medical clerkship - it’s there that he meets a charmingly irritating ghost who definitely needs to learn what boundaries are.WC: 38000 (19/?)General Notes: Stop reading this list and fucking read this oh my gawd. It is that good, go on, shoo 10/10

Flirting with Death by drippingpen

Summary: Keith commits the ultimate taboo as a grim reaper: he saves a life.More specifically, he saves Lance’s life.Now they are forever linked, unable to survive without the other. Keith must protect Lance from the forces that are trying to right Keith’s wrong and kill Lance.WC: 29346 (9/?)General Notes: yoooo, my friend is reading this, and she is doing such a great job with it. Grim Reaper Keith and lance is high key supposed to be dead, and its awesome. Pidge is as nosey as ever and Hunk is pure™. give it a read, really. 10/10

Days Like Today by literal_trashbaby

Summary: For all Lance’s snarking and posturing, all that easy, cheery confidence, for all his charm and his pretty, pretty smiles (which absolutely did not make Keith a little weak in the knees, no sir). Just every now and then, Keith thought his smile would go just a tiny bit tight around the edges, and he’d go just a little quiet… well, quiet for Lance. And on the days when Lance was just that little bit… Not-Lance, like a force of nature he would, without fail, pull one side of his lower lip into his mouth and just chew on it, destroying those poor, perfect lips. Days like today.OR: Lance is Having a Day and Keith is somehow the only person to notice.WC: 3159General Notes: I love it when people write Keith picking up on Lance’s tendencies, its so freaking cute and my heart cannot handle. 9/10

so why don’t we fall by akinghtley

Summary: Five times Lance used a pet name for Keith, and one time Keith used one for Lance.Keith has no basis for having a relationship with someone, so he’s trying to follow Lance’s lead.WC: 8218General Notes: NSFW saying that now. but i love pet names, and this was all so cute. Touch of angst, but it makes up for it with fluff. I love it. 9/10

I think tht does it for fic recs rn, i could literally go through all of my bookmarks and list every one of them, but lets face it that would take forever.

Hope you enjoy all that fics!

#klance #voltron #fic recs #first time ive done one of these #i tried to touch a little bit of everything #but like #theres a lot of angst in my ao3 #like whoops #hahah #lxncekogane #dragon answers

171 notes · View notes

oxfordeliterp · 8 years ago

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, NINA!

You have been accepted to play the role of CHARLES ZERILLI with the faceclaim of BRANDON PEREA. Please create your account and send it to the main in the next 24 hours. I believe I have read your application over and over, each time more charmed, each time more amazed of the lightheartedness and innocence you could write into Charles’ personality without tainting his party-animal & mafia heir ways. He is humane, palpable, real, delicious in his naivety and already a joy to read and watch in action. I can only imagine what kind of surprises await for us once you bring him in the game. You caught subtle elements of his personality and almost read my mind and every headcanon you came up with was so brilliant in its simplicity, which describes your writing as well. Thank you for this refreshing reading and such an unique take on what could have been a ‘simple’ character.

OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

Name and pronouns: Nina, she/her.

Age: 21 yo.

Time-zone: BRT.

Activity level: I’m currently finishing undergrad school, and that’s pretty much all I’m focusing my time on rn. So, I’ll be checking the dash every day and plotting/answering to threads every time I can get to my computer. I would be a solid 7 out of 10, I think.

Triggers: None, thanks!

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Desired character: Charles Zerilli. What first appealed to me was the heir of a Detroit Mafia sotto capo thing. That’s quite the kind of character that gets me going, to be honest. I played it a couple of times before, and every time I get a chance, I do it again and again and again. But passed that, I kinda fell in love with how non-cliché Charlie ends up being. He’s someone who loves his family unconditionally, but can’t quite embrace who they expect him to be. And how complex that sounds to such a balck-and-white kinda guy made me really excited to test his limits, to see how far he would go for them, and how peace and violence co-exist in him. Hence my choice.

Gender and pronouns of the character: Cis Male, he/him/his.

Changes: I would like to change Charlie’s faceclaim to Brandon Perea, if possible, as I talked to the admin before (more like, asked if that would work and stuff, but yeah). Thanks!

Traits: Charles lives by a fundamental value: loyalty to a cause, to a person or to a principle as an unbreakable vow. He believes that respect, understanding of hierarchy and an accomplished role in society comes from this very trait, and does everything in his power to follow it, no matter how fond or not he’s of the subject of his loyalty. But being loyal also made him unforgiving, once unless you share his DNA, he’s incapable of forgetting and/or forgiving any gesture or action that goes against what he believes. Yes, he’ll be polite, smile and treat you as politely as you could expect, but he won’t care for you. Not for a second time, anyway. Because, in the end of the day, he’s nothing if not genuine. There’s no grand plan behind anything he does. Charles is capable of loving unconditionally, and will always part from the understanding that every single person has no second intentions, just what stands in plain sight. It’s not naivety, though, it’s just his black-and-white self speaking louder than his experience.

Unfortunately, because there’s no resemblance of a plan, Charles can be rather inconsequent.He does what he feels is right for him at that very moment, for h also strongly believes he’s not obliged to be the same person every hour of every day. As anything organic, Charles is in constant transformation and he loves it. He sees it as the very reason we exist for. To change, to be creative and to transform ourselves into better versions every day, through all of our ups and downs.

Extras: So, I’ve got a blog to help me write applications and stuff, and I made a tag for Charlie there with: wardrobe inspiration, aesthetics, moodboards, Zarilli twins, headcanons, quotes, quick facts and songs. Hopefully, it’ll help understand how I see Charlie.

PARA SAMPLE

Detroit, 2016.

TW: murder, drug abuse, gun.

Charles Zerilli was a child of tradition.

He prayed in a milenar church, was born in a family of inherited trade, generation after generation, and served his purpose in life as the costume told him too. Dress well, behave well, and you might have some success in life. For greatness was hidden in the details, his mother used to say.

Curious how tradition was precisely what made him shiver once his gaze met his reflection in the mirror. Charles looked just like his father. The tailored suit, the leather belt, shoes and holster, the pair of Smith&Wesson Shields beneath his jacket.

An improved copy, father said with a smile.

They were off to work, then. Loudly, and yet, without pronouncing a word. Violently, and yet, looking as peaceful as the absence of life that followed them. This was the sight of the Zerilli family, the modus operandi they stood by. And Charles was thankful to the cocaine running through his system.

It got him going. Got him steady and fierce.

His father pretended not to notice or not to care, his mother looked the other way, and they all followed as planned. Down to the next stop: small business, just collecting money. For father wanted him to understand the small details of their operation. Always those freaking details.

But the poor guy had no money to give them.

Charles prayed for it not to happen. Exhaustively. No money meant guns, and guns meant death, and that meant more blood in his hands. Because a Zerilli must learn the value of life and of death, and there was nothing like killing to teach you that lesson. It was what tradition said. He knew it far too well.

“Charles”, father said, imperiously. ‘Kill him, now’, it meant. ’Graphically, violently. So no one will make the same mistake, so your name will be known in the streets and people will understand that you’re no child, no stupid heir’.

So he pulled out his gun, hands steady in his leather gloves as he pointed it at the miserable man’s forehead. But the racing heart inside his chest threatened to come out, to runaway towards shelter. He thought of Charlotte in the end of that barrel, and not all the cocaine in the world would make him less religious, less guilt and destroyed.

F U C K.

His father looked at him, puzzled eyebrows arching as he did. There was no time left to pray for his soul, or for his victim`s salvation. Charles pulled the trigger. Small to no recoil and the man was dead. Bleeding out on the floor of his shop. Father smiled, still puzzled. “Why the delay, son?”, he asked, rather amused.

“Just… thinking of where to shoot”, Charles said, dismissively, and father laughed. “Well, you made the right choice”.

Right choice. Why, then, Charles felt like he couldn’t move further away from such a concept? He was tearing apart, and no fixing would put him back into one piece. There was no coming back from a murder. And that wasn’t even his first. He would burn in hell throughout all eternity and he had his own family to thank for that.

London, 2016.

TW: drug abuse.

Under the faint lights of the club’s bathroom, Charles resented his approaching sobriety.

A song by Years & Years played outside the disgusting door behind him, while men came inside with little to no dignity left. He was already able to discern what dignity actually meant. It wan’t pleasing. A bad sign, by all means.

For this was a night to forget. To be someone else entirely. So what use would sobriety have? Or self-respect, on that matter?

It didn’t take long, then, to his eyes depart from the mirror and look down as he went through his pockets. Once his fingers touched the small plastic bag, it all started to get better, brighter. One, two, three lines of coke and he was back in his game. Heart racing inside his chest, pupils dilated, a joy so great that it was barely handled.

He went back out, the song taking him further into the dancing crowd. Charles was barely standing, barely dressed. Just in the right spot.

“What are you prepared to do?”

His hands went up, Charlie laughed. That was the taste of freedom. Body unconsciously moving, names so far away from his mind he didn’t quite remember them. This was it. Perfection in its most wild form.

“I think I’m gonna make it worse"

And it seemed epidemic. Every corner he looked, there was more of it. People dancing, sweating against each other. Bodies moved, senseless. Drinks passed on, recklessly. He wasn’t sure about the name of the girl dancing with him, nor was he sure about where he got the beer he was holding, but Charles didn’t care. He laughed, again. He danced. He was f r e e.

"I talk to you but it don’t work I touch you but it starts to hurt What have I been doing wrong? Tell me what it is you want”

No expectations to meet, no problems to solve. Just that moment, that girl, that ridiculously high sex he would have and a morning of questionable integrity. Maybe there would only be a new future, if he destroyed his present first. Or maybe destruction was never the plan.

But Charles saw beauty in it. In that drunk frenesi he was stuck on.

London, 2017.

“Who the fuck are you?” was all Charles managed to say before he turned away from the mirror, sick of his own sight.

He couldn’t stand it. The loss in his eyes. For it was hard to find comfort in his own reflection lately. As long as he ignored, it was ok. He went on to his perfect world, and perfect amusement. Facade. But there were moments in life that ignorance was no longer acceptable, and he had to acknowledge he was unbecoming.

He turned off the water in the bathtub. Time to forget. No help from alcohol or drugs. Just allowing himself to process and move on. To get back his center, find peace. So he undressed himself and stepped into the warm water. Charles was prepared to pour himself out in that single moment, and leave the bathroom a new man.

At least, until the knock on his door made him aware of his own exposure. “Charlie”, he heard his sister call as the door fell open.

“I’m naked, get the fuck out”, Charles mumbled indifferently, eyes still closed as Charlotte arched a brow at him. “Because I never saw your fucking penis before…”. But she did. More than Charles was able to admit, and probably more often than adult siblings should see each other naked. But there was no point, she was already getting in the bathtub, kicking his legs away to make room and soaking her impeccable clothes and the bathroom floor.

“What the fuck, Charlie?” he sat down. “Felt like it”, she answered, and he cursed under his breath. He just wasn’t in the mood for that whole thing, and Charlotte knew. From the moment she opened the door and saw him, she knew and still came in anyway.

“I’m not buying this, Charlie. I know you, and I feel what you feel, which is creepy and highly inconvenient. So, stop. I’m not here for your fucking act. You can either pour your troubled little heart out to me, or enjoy the embarrassing silence, because I’m staying, and you better like it”.

And that was what having his soul outside his body meant.

It was sensing he was falling apart and coming anyway. It was being told to leave, and deciding to stay. It was embarrassing, and at the same time, comforting. It was h o m e.

So Charles just went silent. He stared at her and laughed soundlessly. As long as he had Charlotte, things would work out. Unrequited love, family problems, drug addiction. It all felt small when he looked at her. She understood without him saying a word, she made it better just by being herself, and somehow, Charles knew that his twin was probably the best part of being him. His soul was all that mattered.

“I kinda hate you right now”, he said at last. Charotte snorted. Such an ugly lie.

#charles zerilli #accepted

1 note · View note