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onomatopagu-et-cie · 1 year ago

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The Killing Vote (ep. 1-5 notes)

I’ve been enjoying this drama and I wanted to post some thoughts about it! This last week’s episode kept me on my toes! It’s a crime they only air a single episode per week, truly a crime aaaa

I don’t really know if people watching this drama are on tumblr but I’ll post here anyway!

Have a nice week!!!

(SPOILERS UP TO EPISODE 5!!!!)

I love Joohyun’s relationship with Kwon Seokju so far, the scene where she played for him Mozart’s Requiem (if I’m not mistaken) while we see her hanging Narae’s stuffed bunny was soothing! Seeing a different approach than Kim Muchan is nice!

KMC’s relationship with KSJ is really intriguing: we only get KMC’s (quite unreliable, that’s what makes it even more interesting!) pov in the first episodes with almost no dialogue between the two of them, and the recent episodes give us another side to their story through KSJ! I really wonder how their relationship got soured (especially from KMC) to the point KMC advises Joohyun not to get too close and get manipulated by KSJ: besides his own guilt for not being able to save Narae in time nor catch her murderer and the fact that the one he looked up to killed Byun Wootaek, something else must’ve happened for it to get THIS sour. What is going onnnnnnn? Or is it all an act? (and KMC/Park Haejin has some sad puppy eyes on par with Im Siwan's and Jung Haein's I can't haha) He affirms KSJ is arrogant and wouldn’t hesitate to take the law in his own hands if it can’t solve the problem while he himself pushes investigations with ways off the record to arrest culprits. He shows a bitter attitude in front of KSJ and Joohyun most of the time when he talks about him, but at the same time he also confided his guilt to Joohyun in private and seemed to regularly ask how KSJ was doing in prison during the past 8 years. I also get the feeling he was asking the warden if KSJ was regularly getting health checks by a doctor out of worry besides the investigation.

(This is some crack theory, but what if the one who murdered BWT was KMC and not KSJ? At this point, the narration is really unreliable so I wouldn't even be surprised!)

On that subject, I wonder if the drama will address KSJ’s health issue with his collapsed lung/asthma again ; his medical visit also seemed shot in order not to show the doctor’s silhouette at all, I wonder if this will hold any significance later on (it could be Jihoon’s grandmother, who knows!)? Not to mention Uhm Eungyeong, the culprit on ep2, was poisoned by Gaetal knowing she had asthma????

When the judge ruled Byun Wootaek’s acquittal (ep4), his gavel (a symbol of the justice) was shot struck right in front of KSJ’s silhouette, above his head, as if justice itself crushed KSJ. A similar symbolism is used in ep5’s Killing Vote:

The flashbacks are beautifully shot, ep4 was really moving. This scene’s lighting furthered the tragedy: it’s as though the orange light and the blood on Narae burn into KSJ and KMC’s profile as they find her, contrasting with Narae and the background’s cold tones:

Also when KSJ recalls how he murdered BWT, the same orange hue colors the shots.

In ep5, we finally hear the voice of a man who is thought to be Gaetal, when he’s talking to KMC over the phone. The opening shows the cast’s profiles, but there’s this one character we haven’t seen yet:

The man in question could totally be this character that wasn’t introduced yet! He’s probably the ‘executor’ of the Killing Vote, who was chatting with the teacher Lee Minsu.

I think Gaetal is definitely not the work of only one person: there’s at least the executor, tech-savvy people organizing the vote (the stream, the text messages, the hacking, …), the one on the stream (or maybe there’s more than one on the stream, a different one per case because the tone and attitude are never the same: agressive, vengeful, or bubbly, or caustic…) and perhaps someone in the police.

The teacher could be Fan no. 1 and/or Gaetal (if it’s not the same person/group): In ep4, we learn KSJ’s « Fan no. 1 » (1호팬, [ilho fan]) regularly sent him letters which would describe in details how the culprits subject to the Killing Vote would be ‘judged’. In ep3, the teacher talks to this ‘executor’ under the pseudo ‘justice15’: if 15 is read with the sino-korean numbers for 1 (일 [il]) and 5 (오 [oh]), the pronunciation would be close to ‘no. 1’, so this could not be a simple coincidence. Also ‘justice’ could be a taunt directed towards KMC’s vision of justice (he uses 정의 to describe his ideal of justice to KSJ) since he seems to deeply resent KMC.

Gaetal uses KSJ and KMC’s words (‘devils deemed innocent’, ‘rational justice’) and interestingly, another character who talks about rationality is the assemblywoman (‘rationality, moral sense and mothers are stronger than the law’)!

Also, this dude is on some twisted christian trip: in ep4, we get a glimpse of the teacher’s tattoo, a cross on his chest that reads… ‘My daddy My hero’… which was what Narae used to say to her father (her hero, making her safe because he’s always there to protect her) and a part of her room’s decoration…

Well, if he killed Narae and his mother made Byun Wootaek the scapegoat for every crimes he committed this far, something must have gone wrong this time for him (and his mother) to deeply resent KMC to the point of wanting to kill him: they managed to pull the strings of the police and judicial system, but KMC must have discovered Lee Minsu was the real culprit (perhaps after KSJ killed BWT) and tried to kill him, which might’ve worsened his heart condition somehow.

(And it’s interesting how the second screenshot shows the teacher discarding his now bloodied watch in disgust after hearing KMC saying ‘I was willing to break rules to catch this heinous criminal as soon as possible’ mmmmh…)

Just as Captain Oh completely denied his liability in ep5, he must have felt wronged, Narae’s case being the only one that 'sullied' him (and this must be why he changed names, from Lee Yunseong to Lee Minsu). Associating the accusations he must’ve faced because of Narae’s case and KMC to the Passion of the Christ in a sick, twisted way, he must’ve thought this tattoo as his own crucifixion leading to his rebirth/his revenge through the Killing Vote?

If the teacher is the mastermind behind the Killing Vote, choosing culprits involved in CSE, SA and CA so far for the votes could be: 1 — to mask his true identity, seemingly siding with true justice while he’s one of those he judges. Also, choosing keywords associated to BOTH KSJ and KMC could be to mislead the police to believe Gaetal is close to KSJ and both KSJ and KMC to suspect one another 2 — a sick way to play with KMC’s concept of justice and using KSJ's trauma (and KMC) ; 3 — to hide the final objective of the Killing Vote: since he gives the public a pretty convincing and sophisticated fact-check all the circumstances surrounding the culprits’ crimes (Gaetal even said in one of their streams that a culprit wouldn’t be subject to the vote if their crimes weren’t true), this could lead the public to believe every case would be exposed truthfully. Which means one of these cases could be fabricated and nobody would realize it at first. If the teacher organized the Killing Vote to get back at KMC (this also seems to benefit his mother’s campaign), perhaps the last vote would accuse KMC or KSJ of Narae’s murder (since no culprit was found guilty) or another crime.

At his final trial, KSJ accused ’the police who released BWT because they cared more about their performance’. We now know the police commissionner, KMC’s superior and the assemblywoman were all linked somehow to what happened 8 years ago. We also got a flashback of Choi Jinsu, KMC’s colleague who was also the detective in charge in both Narae and KSJ’s case, who gave KMC the hint of Byun Wootaek being the culprit. KMC, unlike him, ‘isn’t interested in politics’… He also recognized the teacher as Lee Yunseong, potentially his name before murdering Narae. In ep5, Joohyun automatically ruled CJS out of the suspect list because he’s not close to KSJ… If the premise that Gaetal must be close to KSJ is wrong, then his involvement could be possible: perhaps he was ordered to tamper with the procedure and the pieces of evidence during the two cases? Also, I wonder if KMC’s reputation will get addressed, his superiors must’ve pressured him to follow unofficial orders or he got to discover these orders (eg. maybe in Narae’s case?) and ever since he’s the man to ask for to do the dirty work? Or KMC could have deliberately gained his ‘Wipeout’ reputation to get closer to the truth of what happened 8 years ago?

In the first episode, the video test Joohyun found on Joomin’s laptop is named ‘Lrae091515’: if the drama takes place in 2023, the tragic events surrounding KSJ, KMC and Joohyun ‘8 years ago’ would have taken place in 2015! Could this refer to the final day of KSJ’s trial (or the day Narae was killed)? The pseudo ‘justice15’ could also be a reference to that date.

As for the ‘Lrae’… It could be a wild WILD guess but ‘Lrae’ could be ‘irae’ as in Dies Irae/day of wrath (capital i looks like a lowercase L), which is a sequence in Requiem mass!

The video test was only found on Joomin’s laptop when all the Internet cafe computers got the virus: the one who hacked the computers likely targeted Joomin or her sister, a police officer deliberately.

The tag in Narae’s room (‘the 13th was wrong’):

(It’s also a bit disturbing the tag was sprayed right on top of the ‘My daddy My hero’…)

— the narrative makes us think the tag refers to the 13th failed stab but it could be something else entirely (and perhaps KSJ is keeping this hint to himself?) — if the christian subtext truly exists in this drama (especially with the teacher’s tattoo), 13 is a number often linked in superstitions to the Cena, Judas (who betrayed Jesus, thought to have been the 13th guest to sit down to the Last Supper) and bad luck: whoever tagged this maybe wanted to signal KSJ the man he killed wasn’t the true culprit.

There is also a similar version in the norse mythology I found here:

« In his book “Extraordinary Origins of Everyday Things,” Charles Panati traces the concept of the cursed back to Norse mythology, when Loki, the god of mischief, gate-crashed a banquet in Valhalla, bringing the number of gods in attendance to 13. Deceived by Loki, the blind god Hodr was tricked into shooting his brother Balder, the god of light, joy and goodness, with a mistletoe-tipped arrow, killing him instantly. » And… we see the teacher communicating through the ‘Loki’ network (a wordplay for what would be Tor I guess, just as Apple would become a pear on laptops in media haha)!

(This is quite a reach, but for posterity in the opening, the 13th character shown is KMC, and in reverse order Jihoon haha)

The tag neither the news articles on Narae and KSJ’s cases weren’t in Gaetal’s video test:

idk how to explain, but I get the feeling that person A (who leaked the video), B (the Gaetal we see on the video), C (the Gaetal who’s now organizing the Killing Vote) & D (who tagged the wall and pinned the news articles about KSJ and Narae) could be different characters with respective objectives too. The drama highlights a bit too much the premise that Gaetal is one single individual that’s close to KSJ haha At the very least, whoever leaked the video knew someone else, especially KMC, would eventually be able to recognize its contents (‘devils deemed innocent’, Narae’s room and her stuffed bunny). Also for posterity, KMC was the one who ostensibly redirected KSJ’s attention to the picture of the tag on the wall.

The assemblywoman and the teacher both have a habit to touch their ear sometimes (eg. when she talked to him about KMC ; when the teacher was watching the student during PE). Jihoon also did it right after the teacher left: was it to try to reproduce what he did to understand what he was watching or is he linked to them?

At the very least Jihoon seems to know some things about the Killing Vote, the teacher as well as KMC:

— In ep1, he bumped into Joohyun as he went to retrieve one of the cups the teacher seems to make a collection of.

On the cup, there’s an ’S’ graved on it, just as the telltale sign of the Killing Vote is the character ㅅ/siot (시옷), the first character of 사형 (death penalty/capital punishment).

— He seems to know more than he lets on about the Killing Vote and keeps staring at the teacher (as though he knows his past crimes, eg. the closeups on the teacher grabbing/borderline groping Joomin’s shoulder, watching the students during PE etc.).

— He seemed startled when Joomin talked about ‘zombie PCs’.

— In ep3, Jihoon says: « I think [he] took it too far this time. » right after he saw KMC being alive and the man with the cap escape (which could totally be this character in the opening we’ve not yet seen). In Korean, the subject is often omitted and deduced from the context, it’s the case here: the drama keeps the ambiguity on whatever Jihoon meant here.

— Him being Narae’s friend would also make sense: as Narae was 8yo, she would be around Joomin and Jihoon’s age if she was still alive. There’s also Narae’s drawings that keep being showed, a boy/young man is always drawn on it.

As a child’s representation of adults and children could be inaccurate (the height, physical appearance, etc.), the characters we see on her drawings could be alternatively KMC (who was close to KSJ and given KSJ’s answer, also doted on her daughter), KSJ, a boy Narae used to play with (it could be Jihoon), the teacher or BWT, the son of the driver and the housekeeper who were also close to Narae and KSJ.

The assemblywoman asked her assistant to observe her son closely: I guess that refers to his health but it’s also to make sure he doesn’t commit crimes anymore. She also said to her son he definitely knows she’s ready to do anything to make Gaetal join her so that her campaign is successful: this + joking on TV how a mother is above the law suggest she definitely pulled strings to save their reputation (eg. using BWT as a convenient scapegoat ; tampering with the trials ; changing his son’s name etc.).

Joohyun thinks Gaetal acts like a hacker. That would also make Jodan (in ep5, he revealed he was arrested for hacking), Jihoon, the teacher and Joohyun herself suspects!

KSJ’s interest in Joohyun is curious: he even looked into her background once he met her & seems to focus on her habit to scratch her scar ; KMC’s comment on how unusual KSJ’s behavior was (specifically requesting Joohyun to communicate with ; negotiating his pardon — while he didn’t regret what he did at all) makes me think that: — in the letters or in some other way, Gaetal must’ve instructed him to obtain a pardon (perhaps they even told him to get rid of the letters to make him indispensable to the police) — Gaetal must’ve told him he would seek the truth to what happened to Narae: for someone who didn’t regret avenging her daughter, revealing Byun Wootaek was a scapegoat and the true culprit is roaming free out there would be plenty enough drive for him to find a way to get out of prison — whoever they are, Gaetal must’ve an ulterior motive to involve Joohyun, KSJ and KMC together

The first episode showed similar shots of KSJ and KMC (same backlighting, same low-angle shot, KSJ avenging his daughter and KMC lashing out on Bae Gicheol to stop him from abusing his wife):

I wonder if we’ll get to see KMC’s relationship with the woman on his photo (likely his mother), this is probably the only shot we get of him smiling not out of spite ;;

For Mu in Muchan, one of the hanja that can be given as a name is 橅, which means law, and it’s ironic given how the law failed him and KSJ ; sometimes characters are given names that will hold meaning in their development eg. Donghoon & Jian in My Mister ; Dongsik and Juwon in Beyond Evil.

For Ju in Seokju, there is 澍, which means timely/long-awaited rain ; rain has marked 2 important events in KSJ’s life: when he discovered his daughter’s body and when he was arrested by KMC after murdering Byun Wootaek ; there’s also 炷 which means wick, aligning with the OST lyrics (a fire burning in one’s eyes)

#국민사형투표 #the killing vote #tkv #kdrama

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mischief-lies-and-stories · 1 year ago

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I Can't Stop Writing Post-Season Ficlets

I have another one queued for tomorrow (though if you follow my AO3 account, you may have already seen it). Here's another one. Spoilers for episode 5 and a still from maybe episode 6 that I don't know the source of.

So basically I saw this photo and because I'm a fool and in utter denial about the implications of Sylvie's expression oh my god, I wrote this fic. (The fact that it looks like she's crying is really upsetting me, so I said "You know what? No, she's not.")

Going Home

He watches Loki, a past Loki or a future Loki or maybe just a different Loki, speak to himself in these memories he doesn’t remember, in this time he hasn’t been part of for who knows how long. He hears Loki quote his own words back to him, watches the god help him through a temperamental, experimental Time Door, sees even from this distance the way Loki looks at him, like he holds all the answers when he can’t even remember Loki’s name.

“Are you ready?” Sylvie asks.

No. Not even close. “What am I doing?” He whispers, voice raw as it scrapes against his throat, speaking more to himself than her. Loki couldn’t even bring himself to come with them, bidding Mobius goodbye at the TVA instead, muttering some lie about having too much to do there.

But it’s clear now, as Mobius watches their past or alternate selves stumble through a meeting there isn’t time for, but that Loki is clearly taking great care at trying to get right. He had been so angry with Loki earlier, when the god had declined taking him back to the timeline, instead asking Sylvie to escort him. He had felt like nothing, like some odious chore being pawned off onto someone else to take care of. But he sees now it was nothing like that.

Loki asked Sylvie to take him back, refused to accompany him, because he couldn’t, because he would not be able to say goodbye again. Loki respects Mobius’s choice to return to his time, but doesn’t trust himself to let Mobius go if he comes with. Because… because…

Mobius’s past self turns to look at OB’s past self, and Loki continues to watch him. Mobius thinks of Loki time-slipping into the War Room, yelling his name like just the sight of him will make everything better. He thinks of crash-landing into the TVA after Loki flew out of the time stream at the last possible second, the relief blossoming in his chest as Loki’s arms tightened around him. He thinks of Loki’s surprised smile in the automat when he suggested tricking Brad into giving up Sylvie’s location. He thinks of Loki turning to look at him as Timely descended the stairs, searching for him immediately in what must have been (he realized later) the moment Loki returned from the past.

“This is where you belong,” Sylvie says gently, in answer to the question he scarcely remembers uttering.

“He loves me, doesn’t he?” Mobius whispers, finally tearing his gaze away from the scene before them to look at Sylvie.

She looks at him, eyes sympathetic. She nods, and says softly, “But this is your place.”

He shakes his head. “No,” he says, just as quietly. “It’s not. And it shouldn’t have taken me this long to figure it out.”

“Mobius–” She starts, but he pulls out his TemPad and programs in the TVA.

“Are you coming?” He asks her. She shakes her head, holding up her own TemPad.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’ll see you around.”

She watches him for a moment, and then she smiles. “You’re going to make him very happy, you know that?”

“I hope so.” Then he turns away from her and walks through the Time Door.

He walks into Analysis, but of course, Loki isn’t where he left him. B-15 looks up from a monitor and smiles with surprise.

“You’re back,” she says.

“I made a mistake.” He replies.

“I’ll say.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“OB saw him walking toward the automat a while ago.” She doesn’t have to ask him who he means, and he sees her smile widen.

“It’s that obvious, is it?” He asks. He’s been an idiot.

“Kind of, yeah,” she nods. “Go get him.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, taking off in the direction of the automat as fast as his legs can carry him.

He’s there, thank God, head in his hands and long legs splayed where he sits in the small, metal chair. His shoulders shake and it breaks Mobius’s heart, but the sight of him is gorgeous and perfect and he has no idea how he walked away from this man in the first place. His feet carry him forward, not even pausing in the doorway for a moment.

When he’s a few feet away, Loki looks up, tears tracking their way down his cheeks and eyes awash with sorrow. They widen when he sees Mobius.

“Mobius, you’re back. What are you–” Mobius doesn’t wait for him to finish his question, taking him into his arms and kissing him firmly. Loki melts against him with a whimper that makes Mobius ache. Mobius pulls him close, threading fingers into his raven hair, wiping away the tears that still fall from his closed eyes.

At last, they pull away, Mobius gazing down at Loki, hands framing the god’s wet face.

“I’m sorry,” Mobius says, hoarsely. “I’m sorry I left you. I don’t belong on the timeline. My place is here, with you. I want to be with you. I want to stay,” his voice cracks, then, and he feels the tears begin to fill his own eyes. “If that’s what you want and I haven’t completely misinterpreted everything, but I–”

“Mobius.”

“I love you.” Mobius says in a rush, before Loki can say anything else. And then, because it wasn’t nearly as difficult to say out loud as he’d expected it to be, he says it again. “I love you.”

Loki lets out a noise that sounds heartbreakingly like a sob and presses his face into Mobius’s chest. Mobius holds him, stroking his hair. “I’m sorry that for a moment there it seemed like I didn’t. I’ve never…. I’m not used to this, Loki. You’ve turned my life upside down, and I’m not talking about helping to cause the multiverse and conspiring to kill my boss.”

Loki snorts a laugh, which seems like a good sign, so Mobius goes on. “I thought I’d figured it out, but everything was happening so quickly. And then when we finally had a minute to breathe, you said I should go back to my past. And I’m not blaming you; I probably would have said the same thing, but I thought, okay, that makes sense. And I thought maybe what I had thought was happening wasn’t really, because I had no experience with anything like this so what would I know about falling in love? It’s not like OB put it in their guidebook or that workplace romance is a TVA-sanctioned training.

“And then you wouldn’t even take me back to the timeline, and I completely misunderstood your reasons for that.” Loki pulls away then, looking into Mobius’s face. Mobius can’t seem to stop touching him, though, but that isn’t exactly new. He strokes Loki’s face, and Loki leans into his fingertips.

“I’m sorry.” Loki whispers. “I should have realized how that would look to you. I should have been able to go with you. Just the idea of watching you walk away from me was so painful I could think of nothing else.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mobius murmurs, stroking his thumb across Loki’s cheek. “I understand now.

“Sylvie took me back to the moment you took my past self with you, and I realized…. You were just so careful. You spoke to me so gently and helped me through the Time Door.”

Loki startles him by letting out a huff of laughter. “I learned that from you,” Loki tells him. “You’ve treated me like that from the moment we met.” He looks down at Mobius’s hands, still framing his face affectionately, then back up into Mobius’s eyes. He smiles, and Mobius returns it.

“You couldn’t stop looking at me.” Mobius says. Loki’s green eyes, still wet with unshed tears, sparkle with mischief.

“I learned that from you, too.”

Mobius’s smile widens. “Well, maybe that’s why I knew what I was looking at when I saw it.”

Loki kisses him. “I love you, too,” he says. “Did I say that already?”

“I think you were too busy reacting to my saying it, but I appreciate you saying it now.”

“You’re staying? Really?” Loki keeps his tone casual, but his face pinches slightly with worry, and it makes Mobius ache. Both intentionally and not, he’s caused this fear of loneliness in Loki. He will work the rest of his life to assuage it. Loki is worth it.

“Yes,” Mobius says. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

#loki #loki tv show #loki season 2 #loki season 2 spoilers #sylvie laufeydottir #mobius m mobius #lokius #loki fanfic #lokius fanfic #my fanfiction #my writing #i can't stop writing about them after the main conflict is resolved

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irondadidontfeelsogood · 1 year ago

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Post-Decathlon Misery

cw: vomit

—————

Nausea creeps up on Peter halfway through the bus ride home from their latest decathlon. It begins slowly, just as a vaguely uncomfortable sensation at the back of his throat, but it’s gradually evolved into a churning, gurgling ache in the pit of his stomach.

He has the window seat, so he’s spent the last fifteen minutes faithfully watching the horizon. It hasn’t helped in the slightest. What little hope he held that it was only motion sickness has all but diminished, leaving him anxious and full of dread.

To make matters worse, Ned has been trying to get him to watch The Empire Strikes Back since they boarded the bus. He can’t afford to spare more than a few seconds of his attention at a time. When he tries to watch any more, he swears he can feel the sack lunch they fed him hours ago sitting at the back of his tongue.

He’s attempting to swallow down another rush of saliva when Ned tugs at his jacket, insisting that he can’t miss the next scene. Of course he’s already seen it upwards of thirty times, but Ned can’t seem to grasp that. Peter’s at his limit.

“M’not gonna watch.”

“What?” Ned all but exclaims. “Why not?”

Peter swallows again, feeling his insides protest against it. “M’like…carsick or something, okay? I need to just chill out for a second.”

Ned is silent for a moment. ��Oh. Are you okay? Like—do I need to tell Mr. Harrington?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’ll be alright.” It doesn’t come out too convincing, but it was the best he could do.

“…Okay,” Ned replies, and Peter doesn’t miss the way he scoots toward the aisle a few seconds later. Peter doesn’t blame him. He’s sure he probably looks actually green at this point.

Saying he’s okay was a stretch, especially now that the feeling in his throat won’t go away. The urge to gag is getting harder and harder to ignore. Maybe if he can distract himself, he’ll make it the extra twenty or so minutes back to school.

It only takes five minutes for him to scratch that plan. His jaw goes limp, and his stomach is really hurting now. He wishes that the school would’ve splurged and gotten them a bus with a bathroom. At least then he’d have some privacy if his body betrayed him.

As it is, he’s having to improvise. The only places to puke are the floor and his backpack. Poor May just bought him a new one, too. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten sick on the bus, and he really doesn’t want Mr. Monroe to have to clean up his puke again.

Now, there’s sweat beading on his forehead and down his back. Every movement the bus makes is amplified by the fact that they’re sitting in the back. He hates himself for fleeing from Flash when they boarded.

They hit another pothole, and Peter feels his stomach turn horribly. The urge to gag returns with a vengeance. He feels like he might not make it through this one.

In a last-ditch effort, he tries to burp and save his stomach from some of the pressure, but it only serves to increase the nausea. He suddenly wishes he had told Ned that it was okay to alert Mr. Harrington, although he doubts that would do any good—especially now.

All of a sudden, he flashes hot and realizes he’s not going to be able to make it for eleven more minutes. Just the idea makes him feel worse. He starts to taste the sandwich he had for lunch, and another attempt to burp sends warmth bursting up into his chest.

Trembling, he yanks his backpack from between his feet, bringing it to his lap. The zipper gets stuck for a moment, and he actually wants to cry. He breathes out a string of curses.

“Peter…,” he hears Ned say, but a reply is already impossible.

By the time he manages to open his book bag more than two inches, the vomit is in his mouth. He immediately hunches over in his seat and throws up a gushing stream all over his notebooks.

“Oh my God, Peter!” Ned exclaims in a hushed shout.

Peter pukes again, unable to stop himself. He’s trying his best to be quiet, but he really is sick to his stomach worse than he can remember being. He can’t help but retch violently.

It’s too late, anyway—he’s caught the attention of the classmates around him, and a growing roar of disgusted chatter starts to erupt. His cheeks and ears flame red-hot.

He feels the eyes on him as he’s overcome with illness again, bringing up—hopefully—the last of his lunch. The way it burns his throat gives him hope that he’s made it to mostly stomach acid. The nausea is starting to ebb away.

The damage is done, though, and now that his stomach finally isn’t trying to self-destruct, he’s altogether mortified. Ned has slinked to the very edge of the seat, and the bus is littered with sounds of disgust and laughter. The only bright side of this whole thing is that Mj stayed home sick and isn’t here to witness his stunt. He thinks for the first time that she probably gave whatever it is to him when they practiced in the library together yesterday. He makes a mental note to make sure she’s alright once his hands aren’t occupied with a backpack full of puke.

“Dude…are you okay?” Ned finally asks, sounding entirely traumatized.

Peter lowers the bag from his lap and runs the sleeve of his jacket across his mouth. With the way he feels now, he’s certain he has a raging fever. Perfect.

“Um. I think so,” he answers, throat raw. “I’m sorry.”

He spots Mr. Harrington struggling to make his way to the back of the bus through the bumps and turns. Bless him, he’s trying to get everyone to quiet down, but they just aren’t going to listen. Peter wonders if he’ll ever be able to go to school ever again.

“Who got sick?” Mr. Harrington asks, gripping tightly onto the seats beside him.

“Uh, Peter, sir,” Ned answers, still nearly in the aisle.

“Barfed all over his backpack! It was like the Exorcist!” Michael announces from behind him. A burst of laughter follows. Peter suddenly wishes he could just drop unconscious in his seat and not have to remember any of this.

Mr. Harrington looks uncomfortable and awkward to say the least. He leans over and glances at the damage.

“Oh boy. Are you alright?”

Peter does his best to nod without triggering another heave. “M’okay.”

“Did you get carsick?”

“Yeah,” he lies, hoping that’ll just make him go away.

“Do you want me to tell the driver to pull over so you can take a breather?”

“No. I just really wanna go home,” he replies, truthful this time. “I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, well. We’re only ten minutes out. Hang in there, Peter.”

“Thanks,” he says, even though he feels awkward. Funnily enough, he’s starting to go numb to the embarrassment. Exhaustion has taken its place, settling deep into his bones.

Mr. Harrington starts his wobbly trip back to the front of the bus, and Peter tries to pretend like there’s not a mess of puke between his legs. His stomach still hurts.

“I’m so sorry, Ned. I know this stuff freaks you out.”

“Oh…it’s okay. I’m sorry you’re sick.”

“S’okay,” he says, and then they’re silent.

They don’t say another word for the rest of the ride, and Peter does his best to tune out the remarks from everyone around him. He rests his head against the window and closes his eyes.

As soon as they’re back at the school, everyone books it off of the bus, and Peter doesn’t blame them. He would do the same if his legs didn’t feel like liquid. It’s a miracle he makes it off of the bus without collapsing.

He trashes his whole backpack in a dumpster by the school and sits down on the grass. He says goodbye to Ned when his mom picks him up. It’s sort of nice to finally be alone in his misery for a moment.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and selects Mj’s contact. His fingers hover over the keyboard for as he tries to figure out what to say. Eventually, he just settles on the fact that he’s going to tell her the truth.

hey, we just got back from the meet. sorry you couldn’t be there. how are you feeling?

He hits send before he can change his mind and heaves out a sigh, setting his phone down on the grass. He wraps an arm around his stomach where it’s starting to stir up again. Maybe it’s partially nerves. A couple of minutes pass where he wonders if he’s bothering her, but then his phone vibrates twice beside him. He picks it up.

didn’t know anyone could puke this many times, but i’m better than i was this morning.

i know it had to be hard to miss out on my genius. how did it go?

Peter’s lips tick up in a weak smile. At least she’s feeling good enough to act like herself.

it’s funny, we won actually. maybe next time we have a meet you should plan to get super sick.

see now that’s just luck

Peter actually breathes out a laugh at that one.

i wouldn’t exactly say i was included in any of that luck. keep your germs to yourself, m

Her reply is almost immediate.

wait, you’re sick?

He realizes then that the texting has been a pretty great distraction until now. It’s like seeing the words typed out in front of him brings back all his misery at once. He’s suddenly much more aware of the turning in his stomach, and he actually braces himself to lean to the side so he won’t get puke on his slacks.

Thankfully, the feeling settles after a minute or so, but now it’s much harder to ignore how he feels. He wonders if he’ll even be able to type out what happened without triggering round two. Another message urges him to reply.

did i actually get you sick? are you okay

That would almost be funny if he didn’t feel so terrible.

if by okay you mean having to barf all over my homework on the ride back, then yes

no fucking way

yep

peter i am actually so sorry

It’s always really nice when Mj is sincere. Those are some of his favorite moments. He just wishes this time didn’t have to be about him so gracefully throwing up in front of all his peers.

you know i’m not actually saying it’s your fault, right?

i mean yeah but i feel terrible enough just laying in bed

i literally can’t imagine enduring an hour bus ride that reeks of flash

That thought certainly does nothing to help his nausea, but he’s not going to make her feel bad about that too. Oddly enough though, it makes him feel a little better to know he’s not alone in his misery. That might be selfish, but he feels it all the same.

wasn’t exactly comfortable

i’m sure. you’re off the bus though?

yeah

feel better?

yeah, i get it. i’m still sorry

don’t be, i was playing around. i mainly just wanted to make sure you were okay

He hesitates a little bit before he sends that one, because he doesn’t want to sound weird or clingy. It’s been hard not to show how much he’s grown to like her. Scaring her off is literally the last thing he wants to go through right now. He’s almost scared to look at the reply.

you’re the only one who’s asked me, so. thank you.

i’ll be alright

He feels his heart dip into his stomach. She deserves better than that. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret sharing his embarrassment at all.

well it won’t be the last time i ask. i can call later tonight if you want to talk

yeah for sure

cool, i’ll do that then

feel better

you too

He looks down at the messages and scrolls back though them a little. His face grows warm, but he tries to tell himself it’s just the fever.

Then he realizes again that he’s sick and alone out here. The longer he sits there, the worse he’s starting to feel. Just the thought of trying to stand is making his stomach churn.

His original plan was to walk home after the competition, but now the nausea is getting to be a little too much to deal with. May won’t be home from work until nearly 1:00 AM. After a few minutes, he bites the bullet and calls Tony.

It rings a few times before he picks up. Tears of exhaustion suddenly well up in Peter’s eyes when he hears Tony’s greeting.

“Hey, um. I’m really sorry to have to ask, but is there any chance you can pick me up from school?”

“School? It’s like eight pm, kid.”

“Yeah, we had a decathlon meetup. I was gonna walk home, but I…I just threw up all over my backpack, and now I feel too sick to walk that far.”

“Oh, Peter…why didn’t you just say that, kiddo? I can definitely come pick you up.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Do you want me to stay on the phone until I get there?”

“I…that would be really nice, actually. I don’t feel that great, though, so…I might hang up if I get sick.”

“Won’t bother me, kid. I’m already on my way, okay?”

“Okay, thank you. Really.”

“You don’t have to thank me, buddy,” he says, and Peter hears a car rev up in the background. “Where will you be when I get there?”

“M’just sitting on the grass by the bus lot.”

“Okay. Do you have water?”

“No. Don’ want any though…m’gonna be sick I think.”

“Oh, Pete, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.”

There’s a bit of silence after that, broken up only by the muffled sound of Tony’s car running. Peter swipes at his cheek with the clean sleeve he has left when the first tear escapes. He’s not trying to be dramatic or anything, he’s just so exhausted and uncomfortable all of a sudden.

His mouth is starting to water again, and he really doesn’t wanna throw up any more. It’s not like he has much say in that, but he prays it’ll pass anyway. He brushes away a fresh set of tears.

“Still there, kid?”

He tries to swallow the lump in his throat so it won’t be too obvious he’s upset.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, the single word grating at his sore throat.

“How’re you holding up?”

He wants to lie and say he’s alright, but he’s just over the edge of too tired, and there would be no point in saying he’s okay if Tony’s about to see him in this state.

“Uh, not…not so great,” he admits.

“Do you want me to swing by the gas station and get you some Sprite or anything for the road?”

The thought of trying to keep anything down right now sounds pretty impossible, but he does wish he could get the taste out of his mouth. On the other hand, saying yes would mean a longer wait, and Peter is all out of patience. He just wants to go home.

“No, thanks,” he murmurs. Nausea begins to stir more intensely in his stomach, and he doesn’t try to wipe away the new streak of tears rolling toward his chin. “Are you close?”

“Five minutes tops, kiddo,” he answers. The relief helps Peter feel a little better. If Tony has noticed he’s crying, at least he’s been nice enough to pretend he hasn’t. “So, how was it getting to work with Bruce last week? S’he nerdy enough for you?”

Peter cracks a tiny smile despite himself. Dr. Banner showing him some of his new genetics work makes him feel really grateful to be in the position he is. Peter even got to see his research on the spider that bit him.

“S’really exciting, Mr. Stark. Has he shown you the way he’s gotten sarcoma cells to self-destruct before?”

“Oh, wow. No. Gonna have to annoy him about that one. When was that?”

Peter’s stomach twists into a cramp, and it ticks the nausea back up a couple notches. He brings his knees to his chest.

“Um…about a year ago, but…the new trials haven’t, uh,” he begins, but then it feels like all the blood is draining from his face. “They haven’t worked the same.”

“Gotcha. Did he get around to showing you the new lab on the eighth floor?”

Peter swallows carefully and takes a measured breath. “Not, uh, not yet.”

“Well maybe I can take you up there on Thursday. It’s not totally finished, but it will be in a week or two. Actually, I was gonna ask you if you wanted me to set up a workspace for you in there.”

Any other day, that news would make Peter freak out. It’s something he’s always wanted but never felt he had the position to ask. Right now, though, he has to be completely and totally focused on keeping his stomach where it belongs.

“Pete?”

“Sorry…m’trying not to puke.”

“Oh. No need to apologize, I get it. I’m almost there, kiddo.”

Peter tries to take comfort in that, but the inevitability of his situation is making it difficult. His stomach feels like it’s at the base of his throat. He‘s quickly losing the ability to swallow.

He spends the next couple of minutes manually breathing. The nausea retreats just slightly, enough so that he can close his eyes without feeling dizzy. That in itself is a miracle.

“I see you, Pete.”

He opens his eyes to see Tony’s car pull around the median. The tears start welling up again without his permission, and maybe it’s the fever, but there’s nothing he can do to stop them. He lets out a shaky breath and hangs up the phone when Tony stops along the curb.

It’s hard to stand up when his legs feel like liquid, but he manages to do it on his own. Unfortunately, the motion undoes every effort he’s made to settle his stomach. As soon as he closes the few feet of distance between himself and the car, the nausea comes back to life worse than ever.

He turns back toward the grass and doubles over, letting out a wash of watery spit. His arms are trembling where he’s braced himself against his knees. Just as he hears Tony’s car door pop open, he starts to throw up.

“Oh, Pete…,” he hears Tony say, and then a steady hand comes to rest at the middle of his back.

He retches again, somehow still bringing up his lunch. Maybe his stomach was trying to save him some misery earlier and cut it short before he was finished. Either way, he quickly starts to throw up straight acid and bile, which he firmly decides is so much worse.

When he finally does nothing but dry heave a few times in a row, he supposes he’s done. It’s hard to tell when there’s so little relief this time. He’d probably cry now if he weren’t already.

“Think you might be finished?” Tony asks, offering him a fast food napkin. He takes it gratefully, glad to avoid ruining his last good sleeve.

He straightens up and nods.“M’sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, kid. Come here,” he says, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders. Peter wilts into his weight a little.

When he pulls back, he presses his palms against his tired eyes and pulls in a trembling breath. Tony starts to lead him toward the car.

It isn’t until he’s buckled in that he remembers that he’ll be coming home to an empty house. The thought makes a chasm in his belly. He wonders if he’ll even make it up the stairs to the apartment.

“Mr. Stark…,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against the chilled window.

“Yeah, y’okay? I brought some bags with me if you need one.”

“No, m’good. It’s just…,” he starts, then it’s not so sure anymore. “Never mind.”

“What is it?”

Peter sighs quietly. His breath chokes like he’s going to cry again, so he takes a second for it to pass. His stomach clenches emptily.

“May‘s working second shift tonight, and she won’t be home for a while. I don’t….you can say no, but I was gonna ask if I can, like…crash on your couch for a little?”

“Of course you can, kid. You know, I’m not as terrible as the Bugle likes to say I am.”

Peter’s face grows warm. “Oh, I wasn’t…”

“I know, Pete, I’m messing with you.”

“Oh.”

“But you’re okay?”

Peter considers it for a moment, feeling where the nausea is slowly pooling back into the pit of his stomach. He’s just not sure he has anything left to throw up. He ultimately decides he’d rather not chance it in the Ferrari.

“I think m’okay for now, but can I hang onto a bag until we’re home?”

His ears burn hot at the way he called it home. He blames the stupidity on the fever to make himself feel better, but Tony doesn’t skip a beat.

“Sure. They’re in the console.”

Peter fishes one out and holds it in his lap, melting back to his position against the window. His eyes fall shut, and he tries to just focus the roar of the tires against the asphalt. He feels a little better with the security of knowing he has a bag if he needs it.

Thankfully, they reach the tower before too long. It takes all of his remaining energy to pull himself from the car and let Tony lead him into the common room. He’s never been happier to see a couch in his life.

“I’m gonna grab you a blanket and some water, crackers, all that jazz. You want anything else?”

The mention of food has his empty stomach churning. He sheds his jacket and lays down, breathing out a low groan.

“Maybe a trash can…”

“Alright, kiddo. Sorry you’re still feeling that bad.”

“Not your fault,” he replies, turning on his side and loosely wrapping an arm around his middle.

“Just sorry we can’t trade places, Pete, ��cause I’d do it,” he says, and Peter wonders hazily what he could’ve done to deserve the offer. “I’ll be right back.”

Next thing he knows, he’s being gently shaken back into consciousness. He has no concept of how much time has passed.

“Hey, Pete. How do you feel?”

Once his brain deciphers the words, he starts to take mental inventory. His head hurts, his muscles are aching, and it feels like he’s been on one rollercoaster too many. All he can muster is a hoarse groan.

“That good, huh? Well, I know you probably won’t like me for this, but you gotta drink some water before you go back to sleep.”

“Mm…no,” he manages to reply. The thought sounds nice for his throat but dangerous otherwise.

“You’re dehydrated, kiddo. You need to drink something. Just a little, c’mon.”

It takes some more coaxing and a lot of help sitting up, but Peter finally takes a few sips of water. He was right, it feels really great on his raw throat. Fortunately, he doesn’t have the immediate urge to retch it all back up.

“See? Not so bad,” Tony says, reaching up to guide the cup back up toward his lips. Peter turns away. “Try a little more and you can knock out.”

Peter squints at the glass with distaste, but for the promise of sleep, he takes another couple sips. and even eats half a saltine. Tony takes the glass from him after that, setting it down on the coffee table. Peter tries to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone now. You did good.”

“Don’ leave,” Peter mumbles, laying back against he cushions again. Tony readjusts the blanket on top of him.

“I’m not actually leaving, kiddo. I’m gonna be right across the hall. Get some rest, okay?”

Peter doesn’t need to be told twice. He drifts off quickly to the sound of the TV playing on low beside him.

Some time later, Peter wakes abruptly, his heart hammering in his chest and thumping in his head. He’s drenched in sweat, soaked all the way through his shirt. It isn’t until he gags for the third time that he realizes it’s not just sweat—he’s thrown up water and bits of poorly-digested cracker all down his shirt.

He fights to sit up, sloppily pressing a hand to his mouth. The movement makes him feel sick all over again, and he heaves a gush of watery vomit between his fingers. He has to pull his hand away to keep from drowning when it happens again.

After a couple of dry heaves, the bout mercifully seems to be over. He works hard to catch his breath, and then he’s finally awake enough to realize what he’s done.

The blanket is pooled at his feet, and the puke on his lap is soaking through to his skin. Goosebumps break out across his skin. He’s alone. At first, all he can do is choke out a quiet, broken noise of distress. The tower is silent apart from Parks and Rec still running nearly on mute to his left.

“M’ser—,” he starts, but then a gag catches in his throat. He hangs over the trash can he remembers is on the floor, but ironically, his stomach is empty now. He swallows laboriously. “Mis‘er Stark?”

He feels a wash of fear and sadness at being alone, amplified by the extra heat coursing through his veins. He feels himself start to cry, but he must really be dehydrated, because no tears come. The awful feeling just sits ugly and heavy in his throat.

“FRI?”

“Hello, Mr. Parker.”

“Where’s,” he coughs. “Mister Stark?”

“Boss is in the restroom adjacent to the common hall. Would you like me to contact him for you?”

The tension in his chest fades just slightly, but he’s not sure anything could make him feel better right now. He trembles harder as the sick on his shirt starts to go cold.

“Please.”

“He has been alerted of your request.”

Peter suddenly feels dizzy from holding himself up and lowers back to lie against the armrest. Aftershock nausea echoes dull in his throat. His head thrums with his heightened pulse.

He hears a toilet flush and water running, and then the faint click of the door opening. Footsteps trail closer, and Peter wills his burning eyes to stay open.

“You okay, Pete? FRI said you—oh. Oh, kiddo, you threw up?”

Peter crumbles. “I woke up getting sick, m’so so sorry,” he rasps. The tears still don’t come, but a sob unfurls in his throat.

Tony is at his side quickly. “Woah, hey, it’s okay. Don’t be upset, I know you couldn’t help it,” he reassures, his hand brushing across the top of Peter’s head and resting there. “You all done?”

Peter is still so disoriented that he just can’t tell. “I don’know,” he weeps dryly.

“That’s alright. I’m gonna help you get cleaned up, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Peter doesn’t even have the energy to protest his departure. He feels disgusting and weak lying there in his own sick, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Another dry heave clenches his sore stomach.

Tony returns a minute later carrying a wet towel and a grocery bag. As humiliating as it is, he silently lets Tony help him discard the dirty clothes and wipe himself relatively clean. He stays silent as Tony manages to get him up and lead him down the hall to the bathroom.

He lowers himself down to lie on the cool tiles as Tony starts him a shower. This time, despite the nausea, he gratefully takes the water that Tony tells him he has to drink before he gets in. He leaves, and Peter sits on the shower floor for nearly twenty minutes before he starts to feel remotely human again. Enough to get out, at least.

Tony has placed clean clothes of his own on the edge of the countertop, and Peter gets dressed with all the speed and grace of an elderly psych ward patient. When he emerges, his eyes are darkly sunken in, and he has nothing but sleep on his mind.

Tony supports some of his weight as he’s lead to a sort of guest bedroom, and there’s similar supplies from the couch surrounding the bed. Tony makes him drink more water, but he’s finally feeling good enough to drink more than a few mouthfuls. He knows he needs it.

“I called your aunt,” Tony says, taking the water from him when he announces that he thinks he’s done. It makes his chest feel hollow. He’s so grateful for Tony, but he misses home now more than ever.

“You did?”

“Yeah. She’s really sorry you’re feeling so bad, and she says she’ll be home pretty soon. You’re more than welcome to stay here, but I’m ready to take you back whenever you say the word.”

The tears that wouldn’t come before start to blur his vision. He’s so tired he might die. “Thank you…will you, um…will you wake me up when she gets home?”

“Sure, Pete. Get some more rest, I’ll still be right across the hall, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you. Not just for the waking me up thing, but for…you know. All of it.”

“I’ve got you, kiddo.”

With that, he gives Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, dims the lights, and leaves with the door cracked. Peter figures he should talk to Mj. He grabs his phone and opens their messages.

hey, sorry it’s been so long

it’s okay, how are you holding up?

i’ve upgraded to puking in my sleep. you?

oh, peter. i’m sorry. i’m doing okay.

it’s fine, just embarrassing. i’m at stark’s.

yikes. was he mad?

no, he’s being really nice. i just wish he didn’t have to clean up after me.

i understand that. are you still feeling up for that call tonight?

not really. i’m sorry.

it’s fine, i get it.

i just feel like shit or i would

trust me, i understand. that was me at 3 am. feel better, peter.

you too. goodnight

goodnight.

As soon as Peter lays his phone down, his eyes fall shut. He’s so exhausted that it takes him all of two minutes to knock out. He doesn’t dream. He’s not sure what time it is when he wakes again.

“Hey, Pete? You with me?” He hums again. “May’s home.”

That pulls him a little further from sleep, and he’s able to open his eyes to slits. He sees Tony’s silhouette in the darkness of the room.

“‘kay,” he manages, his mouth dry.

Tony helps him sit up again, and it takes a moment for the room to stop spinning. Thankfully his stomach doesn’t feel so sensitive right now. Maybe he’s on the other side of this thing.

“You alright?” Tony asks, dragging Peter’s shoes closer to where he can slip them on.

“Mhm.”

“That’s good. Feel up to heading home?”

“Yeah,” he answers, and nothing has ever been truer. He loves the tower, but he really misses May and his own bed.

“Alright, let’s get going.”

Tony helps him gather his things and get to the car, handing him a water bottle and reminding him that there’s bags if he needs them. Peter just nods, sort of floating in his body with exhaustion.

Being in the car doesn’t feel great, but thankfully the ride is short. He manages to make it all the way there without needing to reach for a barf bag. He even finishes half the water, and he feels his body thanking him for it. Maybe his immune system is finally kicking in, but even if it’s not, he feels he’s through the worst of it. Thank God it’s the weekend. He’ll be okay.

——————

A/N: Thanks for reading! I know this one’s a long one. Take care!

#iron dad #marvel sickfic #peter parker #sickfic #cw vomit #peter parker sickfic #iron dad sickfic #iron man #tony stark #sick #hurt/comfort

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filet-o-feelings · 2 years ago

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I posted 2,397 times in 2022

That's 2,343 more posts than 2021!

406 posts created (17%)

1,991 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stereopticons

@treluna4

@ramonaflow

@rmd-writes

@rosedavid

I tagged 1,014 of my posts in 2022

#thanks for asking! - 93 posts

#schittscreekdrabbleblog - 21 posts

#sc finish it fest - 12 posts

#schitt's creek fanfic - 11 posts

#wip wednesday - 11 posts

#snippet sunday - 11 posts

#yep - 9 posts

#love this! - 8 posts

#david x patrick - 8 posts

#thanks for the rec! - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i basically never got my enhanced license/passport once it became required to cross the border just so i wouldn’t have to drive in montreal

My Top Posts in 2022:

So originally my nano goal was to write 50k of one specific work (Library Boy) but almost immediately after the word count of that surpassed the longest thing I wrote at about 29k I just lost motivation in favor of working on other projects... but I've been tracking all of my writing, and if I write about 4600 words tonight I can still hit 50k words for the month. Not my original goal, but still something to be proud of. So, I'm working on a mainly stream of consciousness fic with nothing but a sentence and a sad personal memory twisted for creative purposes and hopefully lots of fluff.

So here goes... 269/4579

32 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

WIP Wednesday

David: hey are you guys okay over there? I’m going to have to stay with Patrick for the foreseeable future Alexis: oooh David! Mom is worried about her wigs if it gets too cold, but we’re fine. Have fun with your button! David: ugh it’s not like that, I literally have no choice, the ice has trapped me in here Alexis: sure David *wink* how many beds are in his room? David looks over at the bed, not having considered that just yet. Fuck. David: um just one… can you open your door? Maybe you can break the ice from the outside? Alexis: I just tried, I think we’re stuck too. David. I’m stuck in here alone with mom and dad. What am I supposed to do now? David: you’ll be fine. My battery is dying, I’m turning my phone off. I’ll text you from Patrick’s phone later, okay? Alexis: ughh fine. Have fun snuggling with Patrick in his bed! David powers his phone off and looks back up to find Patrick watching him. “I’m hungry. Please tell me you got enough food for both of us?” Patrick throws David a protein bar. “I have enough protein bars to last us weeks, but not much else. We won’t starve, but we’ll probably be craving the cafe’s food by the time we get out of here.” David laughs bitterly, “I can’t imagine that happening, but I really hope you have more than just protein bars.”

Tagging @rosebrewerj @hippolotamus @stereopticons @alysiswriting and anyone else with words to share!

34 notes - Posted November 2, 2022

Bargain + bonus word blanket

For @schittscreekdrabbleblog word of the week

“David Rose, do you understand what it truly means to make a bargain with the devil?”

“Um, are you the devil?”

“Of course I’m the devil. What did you expect the devil to look like?”

“Well, for one, I didn’t expect the devil to roll up in mid range denim and a blue button down looking like a boring business major.”

“Ouch, David. Stereotypes hurt. Now, is this blanket really worth giving up your soul to me for eternity?”

“It’s really fucking soft.”

“Alright, there you go. Eternally comfortable blanket, to keep you extra toasty in the fires of hell.”

36 notes - Posted October 10, 2022

For @schittscreekdrabbleblog word of the week: Inspiration

“I’m really lacking inspiration lately. Can’t you guys get up to some shenanigans or something?” The author says from everywhere and nowhere. “What, I thought you all love this domestic fluff?” Patrick says from the couch as David leaned further into his husband’s arms. “This is true, and you’re being absolutely adorable right now, but there’s only so many ways I can describe the two of you snuggled up together watching another rom-com.” “Sometimes I let him watch sports!” David pipes up, proudly. “And he rarely complains about it anymore.” “Fine, but I’m getting Stevie to shake things up tomorrow.”

53 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

When David's ex, Sebastien Raine, unexpectedly shows up in Schitt's Creek, David enlists the help of a stranger on the street to pretend to be his boyfriend in an attempt to get rid of Sebastien.

Chapter one

(thanks @statueinthestone for the banner! 💛)

63 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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t0mboi · 2 years ago

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✨Prediction time✨

This is my predictions for Underverse 0.7 part 1; using the stuff we currently have (songs, and the live streams I’ve watched). New predictions may arise when the Underevent video comes out ^^

THIS WOULD INCLUDE SPOILERS FROM THE LIVE STREAMS, IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BE SPOILED PLEASE DON’T READ!

Start off with the songs:

Remembrance:

- My first thought was that this was going to be about Cross; maybe he’ll remember the moment he has with his family or something, having a moment will say.

- Or the reasonable one; this is Ink starting to feel alone, realisation, or perhaps guilty, remembers all of the aus he once protected and now is gone because of Error. All because of his friend’s plan.

- Remembrance could also be during Error and Ink’s interaction; Error reminds Ink about their truce that he broke, maybe will get a glimpse of the void that they’re were put in (reference to the redacted comic, The truce).

- It could also be like an “vaguely talks about something that relates to Xgaster” moment, (probably not but you know, that’s just a theory).

Uncertainty:

- Uncertainly seems like something that may include Frisk with their gang (Toriel, Asgore, Alphys, Papyrus, and Undyne); how they know so little about what’s happening.

- Or another would be with Undyne, though I doubt it. This song doesn’t strike me as that type of song for that. (Reference, live streams).

- It could also be a moment with Xchara but I kinda doubt it as well.

- Sans perhaps??

Overdrive:

- First impression; I thought this would be like Xmettaton’s theme for that one scene, fighting against Undyne.

- Or another one would be Error and Cross, Ink’s fight.

- Something else I’ve seen from others, we might see Geno in this part.

Things I’ve seen from the live streams, and my thoughts:

1. (From the latest one, 11)

Clearly there’s something happening with Xgaster and Xchara; perhaps Xgaster was taunting Chara, mocking him, or making comments. It’s also clear that Xgaster is using his family as a way to upset Chara; knowing how close he was to Asgore (timeline 2 is a good example) he would probably use that opportunity more than once, also with his brothers (one example from twitter, you could also find it on yt community tab or Pinterest I believe).

Even though it may seem this is Chara’s breaking point; I don’t think Chara would rebel against Xgaster just yet, it would be nice… though it would be too early I think (expressly since this is only part 1). I would think he’ll probably do it later in the series.

2. (6 - 7 I believe, live stream)

So with this one; Undyne would probably find one of the double gangers (Mettaton), and maybe (if I remember clearly) Frisk might appear?? Though the only one I know for certain is that Xmettaton would definitely come back again.

Hopefully Undyne would be able to get out of there and cause more confusion for the others once she’s told them all about it, and Frisk is like quiet for the whole time as usual and then Xgaster may come up again (only to Frisk).

3. Obviously there’s going to be a fight between Cross and Error, and then Ink joins in to help Cross (from what it looks like). Maybe after or before the fight; Cross would talk with Ink, maybe he’ll learn more about Xgaster or get some sense into Ink and telling him the problem. This may also be the moment where Ink slowly starts to realise the issues that his friend caused; even if Ink doesn’t immediately help Cross, it would probably linger with him, maybe even in one episode he’ll question Xgaster.

4. Maybe (not feeling it, just a thought) we’ll get a reference for the one event, that Cross still doesn’t remember. (Though the main ones are the above).

This is all I could muster up on notes (it’s hard to write something from head :( ); Probably more would come up after I post this, I’m very pumped for the announcement, just looking at the live streams is just making me excited. I just thought I’ll do something different and do this; I’ve never done this stuff and always kept it to myself, but I have no one to talk to about this in real life :,)

So why not my amazing followers :)

If you guys have some ideas/thoughts/theories; leave it in the comments, would love to see them.

Thank you for listening to my Ted talk, have a good day/night.

(If something is off with this post, I apologise, tumblr is being a bit poopy with me for some reason with long post)

#xtale #undertale au #xgaster #xtale!gaster #underverse #xchara #xtale!chara #xfrisk #xtale!frisk #xtale!mettaton #xmettaton #undyne #cross sans #cross!sans #xtale!cross sans #underverse theories

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jujumin-translates · 2 years ago

Text

Event | Secret Happy Factory | Epilogue: I Want to Tell You What I Like

Sakuya: Umm…

Sakuya: Ah, Azami-kun. There, it’s the Elfriede Christmas coffret.

Azami: Sweet. Glad they’ve still got it.

Sakuya: All of these cosmetics are so pretty…! They’ve got a little bit of a different feel than the ones we used before.

Azami: Yeah.

Azami: I got a lot of stuff from the Elfriede PR deal, but there’s still another new thing I want.

Sakuya: So that’s why you wanted to come here.

Azami: Yeah.

Azami: Sakyo asked if I was buying something I already have. God, that guy is clueless.

Azami: This is completely different from any of the stuff I have, can’t believe he messed that up. Then I had to give such a dumbed-down explanation so that even Shitty Sakyo could understand.

Azami: Worth it, though. I managed to snag a bit more of the budget.

Sakuya: You’re so tough, Azami-kun…!

Azami: ‘Course I am. Anyway, let’s go grab the stuff.

Shop Employee: Welcome.

Shop Employee: Ah…!

Azami: ?

Azami: Ah…

Shop Employee: Um… Are you two Sakuya-kun and Azami-kun from MANKAI Company?

Sakuya: Yeah! That’s us.

Shop Employee: I watched your stream the other night! I really loved your stage makeup, and the stan makeup you mentioned!

Azami: Thanks.

Sakuya: Waah, thank you so much!

Shop Employee: Actually, my makeup today is inspired by Azami-kun’s stan makeup…

Azami: I can tell. Thought it might’ve been that when I first saw it. ‘Cause of how your eyeshadow looks.

Shop Employee: I’m so glad you noticed!

Shop Employee: Actually, some of the customers we got then were coming just after having watched the stream.

Shop Employee: We had a great time just going on and on about the stan makeup.

Sakuya: That’s great!

Azami: I’m glad you were interested in it.

Shop Employee: I’d love to see you do that sort of thing again!

Azami: Count on it whenever I get the opportunity again.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Azami: Hey, Sakuya-san. If you’re down, wanna make another video?

Azami: Actually, I got some requests to review the Elfriede Christmas coffret.

Azami: I wanna try it out on both of us and post about how it is.

Sakuya: Of course! I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ll do with the cosmetics.

Azami: Thanks. …Right. How’d you feel about doing a different type of project?

Sakuya: A different type of project? Like what?

Azami: We could do something with the stan makeup we just talked about… Or maybe we could use the roles from the performance as a motif this time.

Sakuya: Waah… Sounds fun!

Azami: And later… Maybe I can do a collection of loser makeup using Sakyo’s face.

Sakuya: Eeh!? Wouldn’t that be… Kinda scary to do?

Azami: Haha.

Azami: Actually, I’d really like to use a feminine model like the Director, but that’s not really possible.

Sakuya: Yeah, guess you’re right…

Azami: …

Sakuya: ?

Azami: …Might be too much to ask, but would you wanna try out some feminine clothes… Or��?

Sakuya: Eh! Umm, i-if you’re really sure I’ll be good enough then… I’ll do my best!

Azami: I was joking. Don’t take it so seriously.

Azami: But you really did help me out a lot this time. Thanks, Sakuya-san.

Sakuya: But all I really did was the play… But I’m glad I could help.

Sakuya: Let’s keeping sharing what we love and all have fun together.

Azami: …Yeah.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ]

#a3!#a3! translation #sakuya sakuma #azami izumida #// azami vc i was just joking #oh were you now

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autumnalwalker · 2 years ago

Text

Empty Names Side Story - There Are No Dogs At The Dog Park

Author's Note: Ringing in the new year with a side story set a couple years before the main plot, shortly after Eris and Lacuna met. Inspired by this sx-year-old post by @helloitsbees. Masterpost here. Word Count: 4,256 Content Warnings: Brief appearance of blood. Stream of consciousness narration of someone turning into a werewolf, panicking, slowly loosing sense of self, and chasing someone.

“Yo, Lacuna, sorry about this but I’m gonna have to bail on seeing that movie tonight. I just remembered tonight’s a full moon and I’m volunteering at the Dog Park. Err, right, rebranding - I’m volunteering with NALSA.

“Actually, if you’re interested I could probably get you on the volunteer roster for tonight. Could be something you’d be interested in so long as you don’t mind staying awake until sunrise. I’ll send you the link to their site.

“Call me back when you get this. Laters.”

*******

The sound of the wind is her first clue that she was somewhere else now. The drop in temperature is her second.

The sound of a woman’s deep voice addressing her is her third.

“Yo. You must be Sarah.”

She opens her eyes to find a muscular man towering over where she’s sitting on the bus stop bench, silhouetted by the sun. She blinks in surprise. No, wait, that voice, and something about the jawline. A woman, just the tallest she’s met.

“How’d you know?” Sarah asks.

“Gita told me we were getting a new first timer today and I know all the regulars,” the woman says. She notices the look on Sarah’s face and takes a step back, better illuminated now. “Ah, shit, I’m looming again, aren’t I? Sorry ‘bout that.”

With the woman no longer blocking her view, Sarah can see just how obviously she’s no longer at the same bus stop she sat down at. Behind the woman - “Eris” and “Volunteer” the nametag sticker on her shirt reads - is a long, low concrete building with grass growing on the roof and adorned with an emblem above its door depicting the stylized red outline of a howling wolf overlaid on top of a blue moon with the letters NALSA in white. The same emblem is replicated on the volunteer’s t-shirt with “North American Lycanthrope Sanctuary Association” in smaller print around it. In any other direction is nothing but empty scrub-covered prairie as far as the eye can see, broken only by the faint outline of dirt road the bus stop is situated on and the tall, inward-curving chain link fence extending out from either side of the building.

“Welcome to the Sanctuary,” Eris says as Sarah stands up and brushes off her jeans. Was that dust from Tennessee or… wherever this is? The other woman puts out a hand and says “I’m -”

“Eris,” Sarah says as she shakes the proffered hand and nods at the nametag.

Eris glances down and then back up, flashing a grin that Sarah can’t help but think of as feral. The moment passes and Eris chuckles, all friendly volunteer guide again. “So I am,” she says and lets go of Sarah’s hand. “Anyway, Gita’s in the middle of setting up for tonight, so I’ll give you the tour.”

Sarah hesitates for a moment, watching Eris walk toward the building’s entrance. She’s not exactly tall herself but not even being eye level with another woman’s shoulder still feels strange to her. And those muscles; she’s known guys that would kill for that. Is she going to end up looking like that? She’s not sure if that thought scares or thrills her.

Following along, she finds herself wishing she’d looked up more about this ahead of time. But there was just so much contradictory information out there. And if she was being honest with herself, she was afraid to. Maybe that guy who recommended she come out here was wrong and nothing would happen tonight. Maybe she didn’t actually even need to make this bizarre trip to…

“Where are we anyway?” she asks as she catches up with Eris.

“Dakota.”

“Which one?”

“At the moment, I’m in North and you’re in South. The bridge you came in through’s right on the border. Same for the visitor center. The liminality here made it easier to set up shop, mostly for the bridge, but a few other things too. And for extra oomph Montanna’s like half a mile that way. The Park extends into all three. Sorry, the Sanctuary,” Eris corrects herself as the door slides open. “We rebranded back at the start of the year. ‘There are no dogs here, only people,’” she says, holding up a finger and adjusting her voice for a startlingly accurate impression of the elderly woman Sarah had spoken to on the phone the other day, “‘so there’s no reason to call it the Dog Park.’” She shrugs and returns to her normal voice. “That’s what Gita says anyway.”

In contrast to the blocky, utilitarian appearance on the outside, the interior of the visitor center greets Sarah with carpeted flooring, nature scenes hung on the walls, and meditative music softly playing from unseen speakers in the ceiling. Examining the paintings and photographs they pass by as she follows Eris, she notices markedly fewer wolves in the decor than she’d expected. Just landscapes and close-ups of plants.

The tour Eris leads her on is as straightforward as the building’s layout; several spokes of hallway wings extending out from a central entrance, each clearly labeled in multilingual signs. Overnight Accommodations, where Eris sets her up with a small bedroom with a shower, a lock keyed to her voice for the next forty-eight hours, and what looks like a paper hospital gown hanging in the closet that Eris tells her is “to change into later so you don’t ruin your clothes.” Maintenance and Administration, skipped by for now but promised to return to later. Cafeteria and Recreation, containing a small library, gym, and lounge “to help unwind and recover after transforming back.”

As the two of them eat a complimentary lunch, Eris finishes explaining the benefits of a large, early dinner to lessen the likelihood of “chewing on something during the night that you’ll regret in the morning” and asks Sarah if she has any questions before they move the tour on to the Medical wing.

“Where is everyone?” Sarah asks, taking the opportunity to bring up something that’s been increasingly striking her as being off since the tour started. “This whole time I haven’t seen anyone but you and Pete over there working the kitchen.”

“Well, it is barely noon,” Eris replies, “most of the regulars won’t be here for another few hours and the rest of the volunteers and staff are busy with last minute safety checks. To be honest, I was surprised you showed up as early as you did.”

“Well, I know that sometimes you can see the moon during the daytime and I didn’t know if that would…” Sarah trails off in a mixture of nerves and embarrassment, “do things to me?”

Eris nods, understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But nah, from what I’m told as long as the sun’s up the most the moon’s gonna do to ya is make you a bit restless. Maybe amp up your hearing and smell a little bit while making colors weird if you’re real sensitive to it.”

“From what you hear?” Sarah starts at the realization. “You mean you’re not… not a…”

“Werewolf?” Eris finishes her question with a grin. “You’re allowed to say it, you know. But nah, I just show up once a month to provide a pair of opposable thumbs while you all have fun running around under the moon. My job’s mostly to drive you all out to the middle of the Sanctuary just before sundown, help steer anyone that wanders off away from the fences, and pick you all up in the morning with a change of clothes.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. I just -” Sarah cuts herself off, realizing there’s no good way to end that sentence.

To her relief, Eris just laughs. “It’s fine. You’re not the first to make that mistake and I doubt you’ll be the last. And honestly, it’s far from the worst thing I’ve been called.” A shorter laugh, this one more forced to Sarah’s ears. “Sure as Hell beats getting accused of steroid abuse. But if you’re worried about your condition ruining your figure, don’t sweat it.”

“Okay.”

“No, seriously, don’t worry about it. Gita and Rani - her wife, you’ll meet her when we go to the Medical wing - can tell you more about it, but the gist is that they’ve spent decades studying this stuff and as best as they can tell any physical changes outside of the lunar transformation are purely an autogenesis thing.”

“Autogenesis?”

“You know, the whole thing with exposure to and knowledge of things Backstage causing subconscious internalized self-image to manifest externally?”

“What?”

“Oh wow, you are new to all this, aren’t you?”

Sarah nods. “So you mean there’s more out there than just werewolves and magic bus stops.”

Eris lets out a long breath. “Hoo boy… I’ve never been good at intro spiels, but yes and you have no idea how much. But back to what we were talking about, the short version is your lycanthropy isn’t going to affect you outside of the full moon unless you expect and believe it will.”

Sarah is still trying to process that when a vibrating buzz comes from Eris’s pocket. The larger woman looks just as relieved as she feels for the interruption, especially after checking the text message.

“Looks like Gita’s back in her office,” Eris says. “If you don’t mind, we can go ahead and cut the tour short here and I’ll take you to her. She’ll be able to fill you in on what to expect tonight better than I can.”

Sarah assents and follows her to the Maintenance and Administration wing. Eris’s phone buzzes a second time along the way - longer this time, indicating a call rather than a text - but after a quick glance she silences it without comment.

Before long, the two of them stop in front of a door with a frosted window bearing the label “Dr. Gita Patel - Sanctuary Director.” Eris knocks on the door and a voice bids them to come in.

On the other side of the door Sarah finds a small, tastefully decorated office with small pieces of religious iconography on the walls and shelves that she thinks might be Hindu but lacks the knowledge to identify more specifically. Altogether the effect is cozy rather than cramped. An impression further reinforced by the warm greeting from the short elderly woman in the center of it all.

“You must be Sarah,” she says as she shuffles around from behind the desk to shake the newcomer’s hand. “So glad you were able to make it.”

“Thank you ma’am. It’s a lovely place you have here.”

“Please, call me Gita. No need to be formal just because I have a sign on my door. Come, come, take a seat. Eris already gave you the tour, I take it? Well, I’m sure you still have questions about your first moon. Everyone always does, but never you worry. You’re safe here.”

Sarah struggles to suppress a smile at the accuracy of Eris’s earlier impression. Nervous as she still is, the combination of Eris’s nonchalance about Sarah’s condition, Gita’s enthusiasm, and the entire existence of the Sanctuary gives her some hope that tonight won’t be as bad as she feared.

*******

“Hey, uh, so, I guess you’re already at the Sanctuary. Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass tonight. Not sure I’d actually be able to help much and it feels… I don’t know, voyeuristic? Objectifying? Something like that to just show up and gawk.

“Also, long day at work so I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay awake all night anyway.

“Might be cool to talk to Dr. Patel though sometime though without a deadline of the sun going down. I’ve only skimmed it so far, but her paper on the mechanics of the transformation was, well, it’s got some stuff that’s interesting. To me. Is that awkward to ask for an introduction like that? Sorry. I’m rambling now, aren’t I?

“Hanging up now. But let me know if you want me to come pick you up and help you get home in the morning. Or is that awkward to offer too? Blah, I’m bad at this. Hanging up for real this time.”

*******

Howling. All around her. Inside her. From her. From her?

Lights growing so bright. Nearly hurts. Colors warping draining distorting. No more red. No more green. Wash of blues and yellows and grays.

So loud. Noises deafening. Too much all at once. Smells too. So many. So sharp. Sickening.

“She’s panicking!”

“First time’s always a trip. She’ll get through it.”

Skin crawling. Stretching. Bones cracking, extending, filling in. Doesn’t hurt but feels wrong. Alien. Itchy. Where’s the mass coming from? Can’t think about that. Itches too much. Outside and in. Try to scratch. Skin feels too soft. Scratch feels too sharp.

Look down. Flinch back up. Down again. Arms covered in fur. Hands end in claws. Muscle growing as she watches. She whimpers.

“Sarah. Sarah, look at me.”

Look up again. Piercing eyes. Solid face. Holding her in place without touching. An anchor.

“You’re going to be alright. Just breathe. Take it slow.”

Nod. Try to speak. To say “okay.” Hear a bark instead.

Clap hands to mouth. Hit her face too soon. Mouth and nose are too far out. Don’t think of the word for it. Don’t make it real.

Try to stand up. Stumble. Center of mass is all wrong. Joints don’t bend right. Body so heavy. Struggle back up. Look around. Surrounded by wolves and things that are almost wolves but wrong. Where is she? How did she get here?

“Sarah…”

People here too. Staring at her. Why are they looking at her? Please stop looking at her. Go away. Get away. Need to get away.

“She’s running!”

“It’s fine! She just needs time to work through it. Follow but give her space!”

Keep moving. Two legs? Four? Which works better? Find a rhythm. Pick up speed. Just need to get away. Can’t get away from herself. Something wrong inside her. Need to get it out. Get it out!

Fence ahead. Trapped. In a cage. Need to get it out. Need to get out. Need to escape.

“She’s going for the fence!”

“Should I tranq her?”

“Jeez, calm down guys. Don’t worry, I got this.”

Hand on the chainlinks, furry and clawed. Is that really her hand? Who else’s could it be? Feels wrong. What does right even look like? Stop looking. Just climb. Pull to climb. Pulling rips the metal away. Breaks the links. Snaps and pops hurt her ears. Too loud. Everything is too loud. So strong. Monstrously strong. She’s a monster. She’s a monster. She’s -

“Sarah…”

Is that her name? Is that her?

Turn around. Someone right behind her. Looks familiar. Looks too small.

“I know yer freaking out right now, but I’m going to need ya to get away from the fence. Can’t have you getting lost out there.”

Solid presence. An anchor. Remember to breathe. A hand extended. Reach out to take it.

“That’s right. Now let’s get you back to the others.”

Lips part underneath those anchoring eyes. Teeth shown. Barred. A smile threat! Danger! Swipe at the hand. Leap back. Growl deep. She can be dangerous too. Go away! Get away!

“Dammit…”

Teeth disappear. Come back more numerous. Lips stretched back and curved up. Eyes are eager now. Hungry. No longer an anchor.

“Screw it. The fun way it is then. You two go see what’s taking Gita so long.”

Hunker down. Ears back. Growl continues. What’s coming?

Blur of motion toward the torn fence. Hand waving in front of her face. Liquid dripping from a finger and smeared over the palm.

That smell! Enough to make her sick. Enough to make her slaver.

“That’s right. Go ahead and let go. Run wild and get it out of your system.”

Barred neck. Unprotected belly. Vulnerable. Tempting. The hand liquid smears across the face with those eyes.

“What are you waiting for?! Come get me!”

Howl. Lunge. Chase. Across the grass. Over the gullies. Pant. Run. Revel.

Close. Jump. Catch!

Catch?

Caught.

Redirected. Thrown to the ground. Land on back. Barely feel it. Stars are so beautiful tonight. Has she ever seen so many? And the moon! She could stare at it forever.

Movement nearby. That’s right. Hunting. Roll over back to her feet. Resume the chase.

Mouth noises from the other one. Words? Those meant something once, didn’t they? Laughter now. She still knows that.

Catch up again. Rear up. Bear down with jaws and claws.

Hands around her wrists. Or are they ankles now? What’s the difference? Drawing in. Nose inches from the prey’s. But prey doesn’t snarl back. Prey doesn’t laugh. Prey doesn’t have eyes shining with joy.

So what is this?

Spinning around until they’re forced apart. Regain balance. Repeat the chase. Panting harder now. Limbs heavier. Slowing down but so is the other one.

Bite! Catch something! Pull down to the ground!

At last!

Standing over her catch. What to do now? Ah, yes! There’s only one th-

Suddenly pulled down and to the side. Rolled. Positions reversed. Struggle and roll again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Claws flail. Jaws snap. Wrestling.

Stillness.

Pinned to the ground. Weight on her back. Strong arms around her. Holding her tightly but not painfully. Somehow calming. Protective.

Hand running through her fur. Stroking from head to back. Whispers soft even to her. What are words again? She’s so tired. Tired, but satisfied. This is nice.

One sound keeps coming back up. One that means something.

“Sarah…”

Oh. Right. That means her.

A soft padding on the grass. A contradictory smell of wet soil and dry leaves.

The weight eases off. The arms slide away. One last pat on the way out.

Look around. The other one is still here, sitting next to her. On the other side of her an old wolf, thin and white-snouted. The old one nuzzles her and she feels peace.

The old one turns to leave. She gets up on all four legs and pads along behind to follow. She can smell others nearby in the dark now. Waiting for her.

Spare one last glance back for the not-prey other one. That one waves.

She disappears into the night.

*******

“Eyugh?”

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“‘S’fine… alarm was going off in… seven minutes anyway. I’ll be there in a bit. Will bring coffee.”

“You’re a saint.”

“Uh, thanks? How’d it go by the way?”

“Pretty chill. Nothing too exciting.”

“Huh. Well, I’m heading out. You can tell me more about it when we’re both more awake.”

“Sounds good. See ya.”

*******

Sarah peeks out of her room, still disoriented in spite of Gita telling her what to expect yesterday. It’s one thing to be told that you’re going to black out and wake up in an unfamiliar room, but it’s a whole other bea- a whole other thing to actually have it happen. At least there had been a shower at hand and all her clothes on a hanger.

She’d been afraid to look in the mirror at first but once she’d worked up the courage to do so she found she was still her. Maybe tired despite sleeping past noon and disheveled with a few light scrapes and bruises, but otherwise none the worse for the wear. Easy enough to believe the hazy memories of last night really had been a dream.

“Yo, you’re up,” comes a voice approaching from down the hall. Eris, carrying a cafeteria coffee cup in each hand. “I was just coming to check on you. Sleep well?”

“Like I just ran a marathon without stretching first.”

“Heh, that’s not too far off from the truth,” Eris says and then offers one of the coffee cups. “Caffeine?”

“Yes please.” She steps all the way into the hallway and takes the cup. As she brushes Eris’s fingers in the process, some memory, some impression of emotion flickers and disappears before she can grasp it. For some reason she feels a slight flush to her cheeks, but she writes it off as still being tired from last night.

Last night…

She pulls the cup to her lips and the smell and taste derail whatever that train of thought was turning into. She’d briefly worried that there’d be some lingering amplification of her sense of smell that would make it intolerable, but it’s no more than what she would expect from cheap instant coffee. The taste is just on the tolerable side of bad and there’s a mild sourness to whatever powdered creamer got added in, but frankly that’s doing as much to wake her up as the caffeine so she counts it as a blessing.

“Unfortunately the guy in charge of stocking the kitchen has a major tea bias,” Eris says in response to Sarah’s flinch upon her first sip, “so that’s where most of the caffeine budget around here goes.” She settles against the wall opposite of Sarah and nurses her own beverage for a moment before adding, “That, and there was that one time a guy got the bright idea to do like ten shots of expresso right before sundown. Rani was this close to switching the whole stock to decaf after that fiasco, but I’m pretty sure half the permanent staff would have walked out if that happened.”

Sarah suppresses a laugh while she tries to swallow. “Stop, you’re going to make this go up my nose.”

Eris chuckles. “It’ll probably taste better that way.” She takes another gulp of her own drink and puts on an exaggerated grimace. A moment’s pause and her face goes more serious. “But really, how are you doing? Things got a bit rough last night and I wanted to apologize for that.”

“I’m fine. It all just feels like a dream really. I figure I’m as tired and sore as I ought to be from running around all night. What is there for you to…”

Locked eyes in the moonlight. Strong arms around her. Throwing her. Grabbing her. Calming her. Comforting her.

“Apologize…”

A broken fence. The scent of blood. Chasing down prey. Pulling it to the ground.

“For?”

Eris cocks her head at the way Sarah trails off into a long pause before suddenly gasping and clapping a hand to her mouth.

“Oh my God! Did I bite you?”

“What? No. I mean, you got my pant leg pretty good, but that’s why I bring that old pair on these nights.”

“Are you sure? I think I was trying to. I’m so sorry. I was - I tried - I -”

“Hey, it’s cool. I’m pretty good at not getting bit and I’ve got some protections of my own in place in case that happens.” Eris shrugs. “Besides, it’d hardly be the end of the world if I did wind up as a regular here instead of a volunteer. If anything, it’s my fault for intentionally provoking you.”

“But your hand.”

“Cut it on purpose on the fence. But look.” She transfers her coffee cup to her other hand and holds up a fingertip with a barely-visible scab. “I heal quick. Long story. Honestly the worst thing I got out of last night was a dressing down from Gita and Rani this morning about recklessness, tetanus, and putting you under undue stress. Apparently trying to give you an excuse to let go so that you weren’t stuck in that halfway conflict state isn’t considered best practice. Or at least, not my way of doing it.”

“What do you mean ‘not best practice’?”

“Like I said, putting you under more stress than I should have. That’s the big reason I wanted to check on you. I figured I’d throw you in the deep end with the thing most likely to make you lose control so you’d know you can get through anything.” Eris hangs her head, breaking eye contact. “In retrospect, that was a dick move. I’m sorry.”

“I’m… well, I’m not sure if I am fine. I’m still processing it all. But apology accepted anyway. I figure you at least meant well. And,” she pauses, embarrassed, “I think I did enjoy some of the parts that I remember.”

Eris chuckles softly and flashes that grin again; wilder for a fraction of a second than anything Sarah was last night and then taming itself into amiability. “Glad to hear it. Just be careful about which parts you enjoy. You don’t -” The buzz of a text message vibrating her phone cuts her off. “Well, that’s my ride, so I should get going. Feel free to hang around and recover as long as you need. It was nice meeting you.”

“Thanks. It was nice meeting you too.” More than nice? No, don’t go there. “Will I see you next month?”

“If you want, and the good doctors aren’t still mad at me.” Eris turns to walk off, and pauses. “Oh yeah, speaking of them, Gita’s going to want to talk to you to see how you’re doing too. Don’t be afraid to let her know if she starts going full psych eval on you, she gets carried away like that sometimes worrying after the newbies.” Her phone buzzes again, longer. “Well, laters,” she says and walks off toward the visitor center’s exit with a wave.

Sarah sips her terrible coffee and waves while watching her go.

Next month then.

*******

“Hey, Eris. I hate to be that guy, but I think I’m lost. What were the directions to get there again?”

#writing #original fiction #urban fantasy #Writeblr #WIP #Empty Names #writing practice #writers on tumblr #creative writing #fantasy #fiction #my writing #emptynameswriting #Yes the title is a Night Vale reference but the similarities don't go much further than that #Also the NALSA emblem is a wolf-ified version of the NASA “Meatball” logo because MOON #and also Gita and Rani are low-key space nerds #Unfortunately there is no safe and ethical way to test the effects of sending a werewolf to the moon

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vitaminwaterreviews · 10 months ago

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Wonder Girls - Reboot

So traditionally, I listen to the album, then decide which songs to add to my playlist after I’m done. This time around I figured I’d add songs as I go, so I don’t forget any of them later on. I ended up adding 10 out of 12 to my main playlist. So I did in fact add the remaining two to my playlist just to make sure.

It’s hard not to compare this album to Pink Tape for me, but I don’t actually think it’s all that similar? It did have a Toy moment in Oppa, but I think it stuck to its sound and its genre a lot more than Pink Tape does. It explores a lot within that sound and genre though; I didn’t get bored at all, which is good for a 12 song album. I also didn’t totally understand what to make of a lot of the songs. Like, they were Good, but I feel like I didn’t Get them. I’ll have to go back and relisten to a lot of these before I feel like I can have a solid opinion about them.

A couple of 9’s, several 8’s, but no 10’s. Nothing did that for me; I keep saying that Oppa had a “Toy moment”, which it did, but the positioning in the album and the type of song that it was made it surprisingly predictable. Like, when it happened, I didn’t freak out; I was like “oh yeah, I guess it’s about time for this isn’t it?” Plus the change was like, from one type of hip hop to another type of hip hop, as opposed to whatever Toy does with its rap rock to dubstep. The 9’s were both really good, but again, they didn’t do that for me. Average score of 7.8 which … maybe a bit low? I’d round up to an 8 but it’s close enough that I’ll let the literal average do the talking. I think I will definitely grow to enjoy this album more though; there’s a Lot here to learn to appreciate, and a first listen can only do so much.

- Baby Don’t Play

Welp this sure was intended to be listened to with stereo audio

Yeah this definitely Feels 80’s

Dude the synths in the chorus here

Are they strings? Or just string-inspired?

Haha I’m reminded of Apink’s What A Boy Wants for some reason in this post-chorus

Back to distorted stereo vocals I guess

Yeahh I’m not a fan of that kind of alternating from side to side thing

It feels … kinda tacky to me?

7/10, nice solid start, pretty good

Candle (feat. Paloalto)

Who’s Paloalto I wonder?

Yep, we are still 80’s

Oh is this supposed to be a sexy song?

I don’t think 80’s music will Ever feel sexy to me

Mkay, we’re rapping now

The rapping definitely doesn’t feel 80’s in this context

Yeah I dunno about the rapping yet. It’s fine but I don’t know if I like it

That said I do think I’ll be adding this song to my playlist, it’s very unique

Here he is

(who is he again?)

I don’t think he added too much but it was alright

7/10 but I suspect I may grow to like it more

I Feel You

Jay Whay Pee!

And the Wonder Girls! We’re Back!

Lmao

This isn’t the title track is it?

Oh it is! Why doesn’t it have the most listens then?

I did intend to not watch the MV regardless, on average I think I can analyze songs better when I don’t see the MV

Speaking of analyzing the songs, this song is kinda crazy

Like the synth chime thing with the melody is fun

I think I like this actually?

8/10

Rewind

Okay, this is the one with the most streams on Spotify. Plus the name makes it sound like it should be the title track

This feels suspiciously like a ballad

The ooh’s are cute

Mkay, not a true ballad

I don’t know how I’m supposed to be feeling though

Dude those string hits in the bridge are Kinda annoying imo

Oh wait there’s a rap section?

I really have no idea how to feel about this song

7/10 I guess?

Loved

Kind of a chip bass

Opening with a rap

Mkay and now we’re singing

The background synth here is super nice

The “you know / I know / we know” is really cool

Mmmm yeah, I like this

The bridge is kinda … underwhelming? I think I want more here

Yeah I guess it builds a bit

The vocals in the last chorus are Excellent tho

8/10

John Doe

Sparkles!!

Wowowooowooooowowowommmp

And now we forget about both of those

Oh ok we get the sparkles back

Haha the horn section, that’s nice

Hey wait, who’s their rapper? Like what instrument does she play live?

And likewise, who’s the drummer?

More sparkles!!

So many of these songs feel like, somewhere between a 7 and an 8

8/10

One Black Night

Cute drums

80’s noir or something? This is an interesting sound

The chorus is Soaring though

Mmmm the “you and I” is so good

Yeahhh and then that high synth up there, that’s pretty

Post-chorus rap, let’s go

“Getting dark dirty naughty” oml

Did they just meow??

No lol that’s a synth

This is so funny though

Like I don’t know what to make of this song, but in a good way

9/10 I guess??

Back

Woah, all metallic ig

And now we’re all hip hoppy

And this is like, proper 80’s hip hop

Yes I understand how to spell back thanks

You’re only 24, this late into your career? Jeez

Actually fair enough, I know a couple of them were 14 at debut

Certainly Hyuna was anyway

“I’m not a doll” has to be one of the most cliched cliches in kpop

I’m so curious what the Korean is bc the chorus is So generic

Maybe that’s intentional though?

Bruh the bell out here like

Okay the vocals at the end are really nice, fair play

Oh apparently this is the least listened-to song on the album

7/10, I do not know what to make of this song

OPPA

…huh?

The hits, whatever they are, feel like firecrackers

The english though is So generic omg

This is another song that I just don’t know how to feel about

It’s enjoyable to listen to but like … what??

I heard ‘molla’, that’s like my favorite Korean word or something

Yeah the english is like, almost painful to listen to omg

Oh okay

Nmixx moment

This 100% elevates the song

Wait okay hold on what?

I guess that was supposed to be the Toy moment of this album then?

8/10 ?????

Faded Love

Love this soundscape

Mmmmm and here’s the beat, god man this synth is So good

If you asked me to grade this set of sounds then it would get an A+

Dude the vocals wait what

Da da da da da da… mmmm

I love the strings

Both the violins and the guitar

This bass is having wAY too much fun

Was that a ritardando for a second there?

9/10, this was purely enjoyable to listen to

GONE

It’s kind of amazing that Twice debuted in the same year as this album

Like how Red Velvet are older than 4 Walls, it just feels kind of Wrong for some reason

Oh as far as this song goes, this is Gamer

The synth runs are fun

Pretty vocals

You can tell I’m mentally fried by this point though by how little I’m trying

8/10

Remember

The second least listened-to song on the album

Feels kinda Disney in the intro

Oh no

That “clink”

I’d know that clink anywhere

That’s the slow jam clink

Yep haha, the drum groove, the vocals, the background music

But y’know what? They definitely earned it, both in this album itself and in terms of their career as a whole

I really like the “Baby I’ll always remember your love” lines, those are sweet

Yeah, we did in fact earn this. If the whole album was this then I’d hate it, but in context it actually fits so well

8/10

#album #kpop #Wonder Girls

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adventuresinclientservice · 1 year ago

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Striving for perfection (and still falling short).

On Sunday I watched my hometown Philadelphia Eagles walk off the football field after winning yet another come-from-behind, should-have-lost overtime game to the Buffalo Bills. Contest over, Jalen Hurts, the quarterback who led his team to victory, including scoring the winning touchdown, was stone-faced, not satisfied with the result. He was happy with the win, but what he focused on were the things he could a have done better.

“I have not executed to the level of my standard.”

A little more than a month ago, I walked off stage at the International Advertising Association’s “Creativity 4 Better” Annual Conference feeling much the same.

Perhaps it was an acute case of jetlag -- it is a long, very long way to Bucharest -- or maybe it was the sleepless night prior; whatever the reason, in the immediate aftermath of my remarks I relived too many missed voice-overs, too many stumbles, too many mistakes. In response to post-presentation praise from the Master of Ceremonies who introduced me, I replied, “Thank you, you are being very kind, but to me it was a train wreck.”

Perhaps the MC simply was being polite, but a look of surprise crossed her face; she seemed unable to comprehend my self-assessment.

Years ago, when I lived in Washington, DC, there was a local sports broadcaster of some renown named Warner Wolf. On Sunday evening, when reviewing the day’s football scores, Wolf would always say, “Let’s go the videotape,” to check the highlight’s of select games.

On Monday I received an MP4 of my talk, giving me a chance to confirm or refute my review. Before writing this, I watched my presentation once, then a second and third time, to realize:

I forgot just one voiceover; bad, but not that bad.

I made more than a few stumbles, none of them egregious, the kind most people would barely notice.

I lacked the horsepower needed to bring my remarks to a proper close -- my energy obviously was in full retreat at this point -- but I suspect those in the audience were more forgiving than not about a less-than-uplifting end.

The conference organizers graciously allotted me 45 minutes to present; I took only 25, something about which I imagine they were none too pleased. I rationalize this by figuring it is far better to finish sooner rather than later, especially when the day’s lineup included a dozen speakers, but in retrospect I should have given notice in time to adjust the schedule.

If you tuned in to watch the live stream at 7:45 am, or worse, if you happen to live on the west coast, there was real-time viewing at an unholy 4:45 am. As far as I know, only one person – my cousin Marsha, trooper that she is – did so. For those of you who wisely slept in but still would like to see what I said so you can form your own judgement, email me at [email protected] . I’ll email you a link to my FTP site so you can download it.

If you’re wondering about my second-look assessment, here it is:

Better than expected, like (most of) all the other presentations I’ve given or workshops I’ve led, still falling short of perfection.

To quote Jalen Hurts,

“I have not executed to the level of my standard.”

That sums it up, making me like all the other performers I follow and admire, people on a continuing quest to get better, with perfection always a goal, never an achievement.

#international Advertising Association #IAA #Annual Conference #Speech #presentation #advertising #marketing

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mia-talks-toons · 1 year ago

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(S1E5) Battle For Dream Island: The Power Of A Community

youtube

Today I'm doing something a little different, and delving into the world of indie cartoons! Instead of being aired on a big channel like Cartoon Network, Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, or even a streaming platform, Battle For Dream Island is a YouTube webseries! I’ve always had an admiration for people who find ways to do big projects like this without the support of a whole company behind them. The show was released way back in 2010, created by twin brothers Cary and Michael Huang when they were just 12 years old. It follows a cast of anthropomorphic objects competing against each other to win the titular “Dream Island”. Since its initial release, the show continued on for another 4 seasons, two of which are still going on RIGHT NOW, and they currently have an entire crew and production team to help make episodes!

While it’s an incredible success story, the reason I’m talking about BFDI isn’t because of the show itself, but the community it created. The show raked in tons of fans even when it was a small no-budget project, and it only grew as the show got bigger. Heck, I was a fan way back when the second season was coming out, back in 2013! Soon, other people got inspired by the show, and by the fact that it was made independently by two preteens, and made their own “Object Shows”, as the genre is called. Nowadays there are dozens of different shows in the category, such as Inanimate Insanity (the second object show to be created), ONE (A genre deconstruction of object shows), and Open Source Objects (a show in which every scene is animated by a different person, in their own style).

Even those who didn't go through the effort of making an entire show still made things inspired by the show. There are a lot of people (including me) who make fan art, original characters, write fanfiction and more! An especially interesting phenomenon is object “camps”, where someone will host a competition online, and other people in the object show community will join with their original characters as contestants. The host will set up a challenge, and each contestant will write their character completing said challenge. In fact, this is actually how I met my boyfriend!

Which brings me to a personal point. The show and its community are important to me, personally. Like I said before, my boyfriend and I were both huge fans of BFDI, and we first interacted when he was hosting an object camp! He loved the way I wrote my character, and we bonded over the show. We became close friends, and a few years later, got even closer! On the non-romantic side of things, the object show community really inspired me to draw art consistently and create my own characters (even if they were just drawings of household objects with stick figure limbs), since I wanted to participate in all the fun I saw my community members having. I even tried to create my own object show (which I almost fully wrote out but never animated, but hey maybe I’ll revisit it someday)! Also, a group of my friends and I created our own little BFDI-inspired competition show multiverse called the Character Elimination Cinematic Universe. We all take characters from shows, movies, or games we enjoy and write them into our own big crossover stories, where they do fun challenges to win a prize! It’s a bit silly, but it’s a lot of fun too! Though I don’t watch Battle For Dream Island too much anymore, I cannot deny that it had a huge impact on me as a person, as it has for so many other people.

And that’s really all I have to say for this post! Honestly, I could ramble for way longer but I’m writing a blog post, not a 10-page essay! Thank you for reading, and I’ll see you in my next post (also please give me cartoons to cover I’m running out of ideas lol)

#bfdi #bfb #osc #object shows #cartoon #animation #Youtube

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josiebelladonna · 1 year ago

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i want you all to understand that i don’t want you to go after her and rally against her because that’s… well, it’s suicide. it’s an easy way to get yourself cooked, plus… this is one of those things where it can spiral and escalate out of control. i’ve been going off about it and needing to find things to calm me down because the whole thing makes me want to cry and makes me angry, too. like, what the fucjing fuck did you do to him, you bitch?!?!! alex has been very open with me before, and his newfound silence towards me is another thing that just tells me that something happened to him (and I knew right away that it wasn’t collateral damage from his mom being sick, either. when someone in your family is that sick, and yet they recover, you don’t act like you’re having a vietnam flashback).

i had been angry with him initially, wondering why he didn’t come to me when his mom was sick when i left the light on for him (and i still have the light on for him; the porch light is solar-powered, too, it ain’t burning out), but i started to wonder if it was because… he had no choice. forgive me if i sound obsessive or rude with these posts, but—

the soft look on his face is forever etched in my memory and i wish i had captured those moments on live to share with everyone to show you that i’m not messing with all of you.

march 26, 2021. i’ll never forget it. roughly two months after i started really paying attention to him. “badmotorartist, I just LOVE YOU!” he propped his chin up in the palm of his hand and he looked like he was just so touched and so floored that someone would actually love him as he is, no strings attached and from the deepest crevices of her heart, through something as pure as art. i thought it was interesting that he said it to me that soon, too, which tells me there was a bit of direness there. 3 months later, he gave it to me again in a mellow, gentle tone of voice as if he was whispering a secret to me. i remember he looked at my name for a long time, too, as if he didn’t want to look away.

then there was the time he live-streamed from a show in the park and i was the only one on it with him. he moved up closer for me. he was so sweet to me, too, kinda shy and boyish actually. gave me a sweet little wave at the end as if to imitate my kissy faces to him.

all the times i caught him writing in similar fashion to me, which i’ll never not find interesting. like i would use an odd word like “gatekeep”, and then two days later, he would reiterate it, and that’s just one example, too; i used the blue heart emoji on a post once and then not even an hour later, he used it. those fleeting little moments that feel insignificant to those on the outside looking in, they were huge in my eyes. it was indicative of something, and i’m actually a little wary to talk about it because it can put the two of us under scrutiny (seasons grey is at its core, a manifestation of my fantasy of running away with him). and they went away sometime in that week between memorial day weekend and the 5th…

…

like i said. so easy to assume the worst, and it’s hard to prove, especially when you don’t see everything and he doesn’t talk much.

somebody is hurting him. someone blurred a line before they crossed it. i can feel it. even thousands of miles away, i can feel it in my bones. i can see it in his posts now in the wake of the whole thing with his mom, i can see it in his eyes, i can see it on his face, too: that man is the real-life equivalent of the squash-and-stretch, he’s very expressive. the eyes are the windows to the soul, and his is in agony. when his eyes are big like marbles and his mouth is fully stretched à la “guess who found your happy pills” or something… it’s like watching a plane crash. you want to look away but you just- you can’t. you want to find some glimmers of hope in there. maybe be a hero of some kind.

#alex skolnick #text

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vendettaparker · 3 years ago

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Reckless [T.H]

Summary: In a fit of jealousy, Tom embarrasses you in front of your new friend and the entire pub, leaving you heartbroken at his reckless actions.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Swearing, angst, slut-shaming

a/n: hi! sorry this took so so so long for me to get out! i got super busy with other works, but i’m super happy with how this turned out :) i hope you enjoy this, and don’t worry, i know how scary those warnings look ^ but this ends happy, i promise! as always, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom was an idiot. He was an actual fucking idiot. He now realizes that as he watches you run out of the pub with hot tears streaming down your face. He watches as Harry runs after you, your bag in his hand, probably to make sure you make it back home safe since there was no way you’d return to the crowded bar, where Harrison and Sam were giving Tom death glares, the same little pub where Tom had made a complete fool out of you.

The few months Tom came home to London were always the setting of your most cherished memories. Sometimes it seemed like when he left so did the whole group of friends you surround yourself with.

There was no doubt in your mind that Tom was the life of the party. He had a certain aura about him that caused some of the most fucked up, but amazing situations to occur. That was probably one of the reasons you loved him so much.

When he was in town, his brothers, Harrison, and Tuwaine all joined together to make the next few months memorable before he had to leave again, and you were always included, but when he was gone, Harry usually went with him, Harrison focused on work for himself, and Sam focused on his restaurant. The world slowed down after Tom left, and so many times, you were left to wait for his return; alone.

Tom hated leaving you behind every time he went back to the states, but you had such deep roots in London, he didn’t want to pry you from your family for months on end. He loved you too much to constantly subject you to his hectic lifestyle. He spent as much time with you as he could when he saw you, but the second he had to go, it was all tearful goodbyes in a crowded airport.

You and Tom had been best friends for decades at this point. You supported him no matter what it was that he wanted to accomplish. He’s even said in interviews that he credits a huge bulk of his success to his friend back home, then he’d give a wink to the camera, and you always knew it was for you.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

When Tom came home after filming Spider-Man: No Way Home, you practically tackled him to the ground in a hug.

“You div,” You mumbled into his neck, “you forgot to let me FaceTime with Zendaya.”

“Oh, shit!” Tom gasped, finally remembering your request to talk to your favorite actress, “my bad.”

You looked at Tom incredulously, “I don’t think I can be friends with you anymore.” You feigned hurt, clutching your hand to your chest, “it just hurts too much.”

“That’s a damn shame,” Tom frowned, “I mean, I could just FaceTime Zendaya now, but if that’s how you—”

“I changed my mind,” You smiled sweetly, cutting him off, “love you, bestie.”

Tom rolled his eyes and pulled you into another hug, “Missed you, bestie.”

“Um,” Sam, Paddy, and Harrison stood behind you, clearing their throats.

“Missed you guys too,” Tom sighed, and he rushed over and gave his brothers and friend a hug.

You gave Harry a hug while Tom chatted with his brothers, quickly catching up with him.

“What’s the plan for tonight, guys?” You spoke up.

Every night after Tom got back, he’d go back to his flat and take a nap before a night out on the town. Usually, you’d bar hop a bit before going to a club, so tonight wasn’t likely to be any different.

“I was thinking we could get dinner at Lorenzo’s,” Harry said, “then maybe hit the pub on Ashford?”

You and the others nodded in agreement as you made your way out of the airport.

“Can I invite my friend Avery?” You asked.

Tom nodded, “Sure, I didn’t even know you had any other friends, (Y/N),” he joked.

“Haha,” You laughed sarcastically, “gee that was a good one, Tom. You really got me.”

“What can I say?” He smirked, “I’m a comedian.”

“Is that the guy you met in your philosophy lecture?” Harrison butt in.

“Yeah,” You nodded, “he’s really sweet, so be on your best behavior guys, and maybe don’t be yourselves, just this once?” you suggested with a slightly teasing tone.

“Are you trying to impress him or something?” Tom inquired.

“No,” You scoffed, “I’m just trying to not throw him to the wolves.”

Tom laughed along, but it was strained. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of adding a new member to your friend group, and the little glint in your eye when you talked about Avery made his heart tighten.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Okay,” You smiled as you set the last of Tom’s luggage in his living room, “I’ll let you get some sleep then.”

You gave him one last hug and a kiss on the cheek, “see you later.”

Tom reciprocated and inhaled the sweet smell of lavender in your locks of hair, “mhm,” he sighed, “see ya.”

Harrison was about to walk out after you when Tom grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back, “Mate, what the fuck.” he grumbled as he stumbled over his feet, “I thought you wanted to take a nap?”

“I slept on the plane,” Tom explained quickly, “you’ve been here the whole time, right?” Harrison nodded, “so you know this Avery guy, yeah?”

Harrison shook his head, “I haven’t talked to (Y/N) much this past month, but he’s probably on her Instagram.”

Harrison pulled out his phone and looked at posts you’d been tagged in, “Ah, here.” He handed the phone to Tom and pointed to the tall blonde guy in a group photo with you and some other friends, “He’s the tall blonde.”

Tom studied the picture with a small frown, “They’re not dating though, right?”

“She said he was her friend,” Harrison shrugged.

“You know what I mean,” Tom rolled his eyes, “do they look really chummy to you?”

“His hand’s kind of close to her butt, but other than that I don’t know.” Harrison pointed it out, causing Tom’s heart to momentarily stop.

“Ok, new plan,” Tom announced, “I’m going to ask (Y/N) out tonight.”

Harrison scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What?” Tom wondered.

“You’ve said that almost every single time you’ve been home and you always chicken out.”

“No, I don’t!” Tom gasped in offense, “It’s just hard to find the right time.”

“You’ve literally had hundreds of opportunities to tell her how you feel, Mate.”

“It has to be perfect.” Tom insisted, “I can’t just ask her out of the blue, I have to butter her up first.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tom groaned, “get out, I changed my mind, I’m going to sleep.”

Harrison rolled his eyes and chuckled before giving Tom a pat on the back and leaving. Tom waved goodbye as Harrison drove away, and then rushed to his phone.

“FaceTime Zendaya,” he instructed Siri. The call went through and soon Tom was met with Zendaya's tired eyes in a dark room.

“Hey, Z!” Tom said cheerfully, “best friend, bestest pal in the world. The person that never wants to see me fail ever, my greatest companion—“

“Tom,” Zendaya groggily cut him off, “what the fuck do you want, I’m sleeping.”

“How do you ask a girl out?”

Zendaya sat up a little more and turned on her bedside lamp, “What? You don’t know how to ask a girl out?”

“Well I do,” Tom backtracked, “but I want it to be special. I’ve been in love with this girl for nearly two years now and every time I go to ask her out, I chicken out.”

“I don’t know, what does she like?”

“Well one time she told me her favorite animal was a sea otter, should I get her one?” Tom pondered, hand resting in his chin in thought.

“Um, no, what the fuck?” Zendaya squinted her eyes at Tom, “have you gotten any sleep yet?”

Tom shook his head, “This is important, Z, now help me!”

Zendaya rolled her eyes, “I’ll text you some ideas, but for now just go get some sleep. With how tired you are now you’d probably call her the wrong name or something.”

Tom rolled his eyes, but the action caused his eyelids to droop even more, “Fine, fine,” he conceded, “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Okay,” Tom announced at the restaurant before you arrived, “I’m going to ask (Y/N) out tonight so I need you all to shut up and not distract me or make me nervous.”

Harrison, Harry, and Sam just stared at Tom. Tuwaine, for some unknown reason, started clapping.

“Tom,” Harrison began, “no offense, but—“

“Ah ah ah,” Tom stopped him, “is what you’re about to say going to bruise my ego?” Harrison thought about it for a moment before slowly nodding, “okay, then shut the fuck up, respectfully. I don’t need any bad juju tonight.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, Mate,” Tuwaine nodded. He was the closest to you after Tom and he knew all about your crush on the brown-haired Brit. You might’ve let it slip once when you were drunk, and since you didn’t willingly tell Tuwaine, he was sworn to secrecy. “I’m positive she’ll say yes.”

“Thank you,” Tom smiled at him, sending a slight glare to the others for their lack of faith in him. “As for the rest of you, I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”

You walked into the restaurant with Avery hunched over from laughing so hard. Tom smiled in your direction and waved you over, “Hey, (Y/N/N)! Over here!”

“Wow,” You chuckled, “must’ve been a good nap. Little energetic there, huh?”

Tom went in to give you a tight hug, holding you close, “Just missed you,” he mumbled into your hair.

“I just saw you a few hours ago?”

Avery stood by you awkwardly, waiting for Tom to release you. Tom reluctantly let you go and pulled a chair out for you, next to him.

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, motioning for Avery to sit next to you, “hey, everyone,” you smiled at the group of boys that were properly about to piss themselves at Tom’s over-the-top behavior, “this is Avery.”

“Hi,” He waved at the group as a small chorus of ‘hellos’ rang across the table. He turned to Tom to shake his hand, “I’m a big fan, Mate. Love your work.”

Tom smiled and patted him on the shoulder, “Thanks, it means a lot.” smiled politely, shaking Avery's hand.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Dinner went off without a hitch, at least in your opinion. Avery was melding well with your friends and he was cracking jokes like he’d know the group for years.

The boys seemed to enjoy his sense of humor and what he added to the conversation. Sam and him even found that they shared an interest in cooking, which led to them having a slightly heated discussion about how real Gordon Ramsey’s cooking skills are; which ended in laughs.

However, Tom was probably having one of the worst nights of his life. Every time Avery playfully shoved you while you two laughed he wanted to wring his neck. It also didn’t help that he couldn’t find the perfect time to ask you out. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to ask you out with all of his mates around.

Tom smiled and laughed along with the jokes, but once you looked away he was back to frowning.

“Tom,” Harry nudged his brother, “wipe that scowl off your face.”

“I’m not scowling,” Tom grumbled, “this is my normal face.”

Harry rolled his eyes and kicked his older brother under the table, “You need to ask her soon. I think Avery is trying to make some moves on her.” Harry noticed, seeing how Avery casually had his arm around your chair.

Tom rolled his eyes, “As if I can't see that for myself,” he scoffed. “I don’t want to ask her with all of you watching. What if she says no?”

“We can leave you alone for a bit when we go to the pub, but I’m not sure if Avery will go with us.” Harry shrugged, “you could always ask her out tomorrow.” Harry suggested.

“No!” Tom exclaimed, causing everyone to look at him and Harry, “Sorry, I—um, I just don’t really like that shirt on you Harry; it makes my eyes hurt.”

Harry looked down at his shirt for a moment and then frowned, sending a light smack to Tom, “You bought me this shirt you div.”

Everyone went back to their own conversations so Tom leaned in to talk to Harry some more, “I can’t wait for tomorrow. What if I chicken out again?”

“Then you’re an idiot.” Harry deadpanned with a shrug.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The pub was way more packed than anyone expected. The new addition of live music to the outside patio definitely livened up the place and more customers went to see what local band would be playing next.

The pub had a classic English pub feel, with the wood flooring and the yellow-tinted walls, but it also had a modern twist with a back patio and outdoor seating with fairy lights, and the lights that illuminate under the bar itself.

“I’m gonna go check out the band,” Harry announced after he came back with your drinks, “you guys should all come with me.” He said with a slight side-eye to Sam, Tuwaine, and Harrison.

“Eh, I’m not really into—” Sam began, but Harry sent him a quick kick under the table. “Ow! I mean, I love music.” Sam smiled enthusiastically.

“I’m gonna stay back and finish this beer,” Tom said, holding up the large pint of beer he was already a quarter of the way through, “(Y/N), wanna race to see who can finish first?” He suggested trying to get you to stay behind.

“Oh you’re totally on,” You smirked, “but I am going to take a quick peek at the band. We can race after I get back.” You got up from your seat and began walking away with Harry and the boys. Tom pouted at how horribly that plan worked. Harry looked back at Tom apologetically as he held the door open for you.

“Wow,” Avery smiled beside Tom, scaring him, “she really is something.”

“Holy shit, Mate,” Tom held a hand to his heart, “you almost gave me a heart attack. I thought you went with them?”

“Nah,” Avery shook his head, “I’m not really into music,” he shrugged.

“Oh, okay,” Tom nodded. “What were you just saying?”

“(Y/N),” Avery looked towards the back patio exit dreamily, “she’s amazing. I mean I would definitely ask her out, but probably not at a pub surrounded by her mates, y’know?”

“Mhm, yeah,” Tom said quietly, his heart already beginning to shatter into millions of inconsolable pieces. “I mean, she’s alright.” He said with a forced laugh, trying to fend Avery away from you, “she definitely isn’t really your type, though.”

“What do you mean?” Avery asked, taking a sip from his beer, “she’s perfect, mate.”

“I mean,” Tom racked his brain for an excuse big enough to make Avery not want you, “you don’t think it’s a little weird she’s in a friend group with all boys?”

“No,” Avery said slowly, skeptically looking back at the exit, “she just clicks with boys, I guess. Girls and guys can just be friends.”

“Not her,” Tom scoffed, “I mean, it’s just a little obvious, y’know?”

You and the rest of the boys were heading back in, seeing as the back patio was completely overcrowded with patrons.

“What’s obvious?” Avery asked, raising his voice slightly due to the volume in the bar.

“(Y/N)’s only friends are guys!” Tom nearly yelled over the volume of chatter, not realizing that the surrounding customers could hear him, “makes me wonder how many she’s slept with! I mean, that’s not a coincidence to me!”

The surrounding customers halted their conversations, leaving only Tom’s voice filtering through the air and into your ears.

“That’s crazy,” Avery chuckled awkwardly, “I don’t think she’s like that.” He shook his head, annoying Tom. In a final last-ditch effort to get Avery off your back, he said the worst thing he could, loudly, into a quieting pub.

“Well, she hits on me all the time,” Tom shrugged, “she’s just a bit whorish, I guess.”

“Tom,” Tuwaine cleared his throat, interrupting their conversation, “what the fuck, mate?”

Tom looked at all the boys next to Tuwaine, and behind them was you, teary-eyed with harsh sobs racking through your body.

You whispered something to Harry, and then all but ran out the front door. Harry walked over to where Tom was sitting and picked up your purse.

“Harry I—” Tom tried.

“Shut the fuck up, Tom.” Harry snapped, “You're an idiot and an asshole, just leave things be.”

Harry ran out the pub entrance, following you to give you a ride home.

Tuwaine, Sam, and Harrison shook their heads once the shock ebbed away. One by one they all left Tom sitting in shock and agony at the bar. Avery, not knowing any of the group, barely knew what was going on or if Tom’s accusations were correct, left the pub and went home without another word.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Harry,” Tom whined into the phone, “please tell me how to fix this, please I’m begging you.”

Harry sighed, now properly regretting lifting his silent treatment from Tom, “Tom, there is absolutely nothing I can do to help you, and even if there was, I wouldn’t. You called her a whore in front of a crowded pub—”

“I know!” Tom yelled, “And I’ve been living with that guilt for three weeks now! Please, Harry. I-I messed up so bad.” Tom’s voice cracked, “I tried calling and texting, a-and my texts started turning green. She blocked me,” Tom sobbed, “I’m in love with her, and I never got to tell her. I ruined our relationship before it even began.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “you did.”

“Harry, I just want to apologize properly, please.” Tom begged, “I tried going to her house, but her roommate threw a drink at me and told me she went out of town. Where is she?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Harry,” Tom sighed, “I’m trying so hard here, I don’t care where she is, I’ll go anywhere for her. Please, I just can’t keep waiting in the dark for her to talk to me.”

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead, “Okay, fine, but don’t tell her I told you where she was. And if you get your face clawed off, just know that you deserve it.”

“Okay, okay, now tell me.”

“She’s been staying with Tuwaine and his girlfriend.”

“Okay, thanks, love you, bye!” Tom said through the phone, already grabbing his keys.

Harry sighed and began texting Tuwaine,

Harry: Tom’s coming over, don’t snap him in half, he just wants to talk to her.

Tuwaine: I’m not home right now, but I'd be more worried about her snapping him in half…

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom pulled up the Tuwaine’s flat and pounded at the door. He didn’t see Tuwaine’s car in the driveway but he saw yours parked on the street so he knew you were in there.

“(Y/N)!” He desperately called, “Come on, I know you’re in there!”, his pleas were met with silence and he rang the doorbell on repeat, “(Y/N), please! I just want to talk!”

The door opened to show you standing there with your messy hair and stained sweats, still looking overwhelmingly perfect in Tom’s eyes. He noticed the dark circles and the dried tears and his heart broke, even more, knowing he caused this. He loved you so much and he caused you some of the worst pain imaginable. All he wanted to do was hold you and kiss your puffy cheeks, desperately whispering praises into your ear. You were perfect in every sense of the word, and he let you believe you were anything less. He was an idiot—the biggest idiot in the world—for making you cry.

“What do you want?” You snapped with a sniffle, pulling him back to reality as you rubbed your red eyes.

“I just want to talk,” Tom gave you a small smile, “please.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” You scowled, “You need to leave.”

“No, (Y/N), please.” Tom begged, “I’m sorry. I’m so so so fucking sorry. I was being an idiot and—please, (Y/N), you’re my best friend. I don’t wanna lose you.” Tom’s voice cracked, but you remained stoic in the doorway.

“I’m your best friend? Really?” You scoffed, “I thought I was just some whore you let hang around you?”

Tom winced at his words being thrown back into his face, “I didn’t mean it, I swear,” he promised, tears glistening in his eyes, “I don’t even know why I said that. I was being so fucking stupid—”

“No,” You interrupted his rambling, “you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say that it was just you “being stupid”. Who the hell says that about their supposed best friend? Why would you even think that? You don’t just get to call me those things in public, and then say that you don’t know why you did it. You can’t even give me a reason—”

“I’m in love with you,” Tom blurted out, blowing out a puff of air in stress, “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time, (Y/N). And Avery was saying how he wanted to ask you out, and I couldn’t lose you. I didn’t want to lose you. I had so many plans for us, and I wanted to be with you—to be yours—more than anything, and I let my jealousy get in the way. I’m sorry because if I deserved you I wouldn’t have done that.”

You stood in the doorway of the flat, arms crossed over your chest. “I can’t believe you’d be so reckless.” You said after a moment of silence, “I would’ve been yours if you had just asked me.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom cried, reaching out to hold your hand, but you backed away ever so slightly, “please, I would do anything to fix it if I could.”

“You don’t understand anything, Tom.” You frowned.

“Help me understand.” He begged.

You pondered it for a moment and then released a sigh, coupled with a few tears, “I loved you,” you admitted. Tom’s heart did a leap, but then he realized that you were talking past tense as if his chance with you was gone.

“And I would spend months and months just waiting for you to come home so I could spend time with you. I was so lonely when you and Harry left; I always am. Avery offered to spend some time with me after class one day and I agreed because I don’t have anybody else when you leave. And it was fun, but he wasn’t you. He’ll never compare to the place you had in my heart, but at least I wasn’t alone anymore.” You sighed and began closing the door again, “Now, because of you, I have no one again.”

The door was about to slam back in Tom’s face, but he shoved his foot in the threshold, “(Y/N), wait,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how important Avery was to you. I can never undo what I did, but please let me make it up to you. I just need you to understand how sorry I am.”

You opened the door again and looked at Tom’s sad eyes, boring into you, “I do understand how sorry you are, but I don’t know how I can trust you again. You said awful things about me without even batting an eye or taking a breath—”

“I know,” Tom sighed, “I know and I’d give anything to take it back. I just want you back (Y/N). Even if you don’t want to be my girlfriend, I can’t leave knowing I’ve lost my best friend.”

“As much as it hurts,” You caved, moving from the doorway to let Tom in, “I still love you, and I don’t want to lose you either.”

Tom smiled and walked into the flat, immediately pulling you into a hug, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” You hugged back and sniffled into his hoodie, before pulling away with a sigh.

“I know,” You nodded, “I forgive you. But next time, just be honest with me and tell me how you’re feeling. I’d give you the world if you asked for it.”

Tom smiled and stroked your tear-stained cheek, “I’ll just settle on your heart for now, if that’s okay?”

“That’s so fucking cheesy.” You giggled, wiping the tears from your eyes, “I love it.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

✧tags & moots✧ @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @thirstiestpotato @kelieah @iovebug @waitimcomingtoo @rosyparkers @parkers-gal @allegra-writes @starktonyx @celestialholland @hollandcrush @londonspidey @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spidey-sophie @spideyspeaches @peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @asonofpeter @westcoastcigar @arlo-sanders @love-peterparker @boiolay @letssee2468 @white-wolf1940 @fandom-life-12 @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @miseryholland @wierdteenagenerd @duskholland @hollandprkr @lauras-collection @arvinsescape @hollandsrecs

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfic #tom holland oneshot #tom holland angst #tom holland peter parker #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker smut #requested

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lovely-angst · 3 years ago

Text

break ups and break ins

a/n: i didn't have any motivation to continue writing so it stayed in my drafts for forever. it's a super messy fic im not super proud of tbh i wanted to scrap it but i got so far lol

genre: angst to fluff

pairing: hawks x reader

summary: you and hawks break up, but someone breaks in?

word count: 3.7k+

09.16.21

"come on, stop being so sensitive," hawks groans with an eye roll as you gawk at him. "you think i'm being sensitive because I'm hurt that you're out there flirting with other girls while we are in a relationship?"

you scoff in disbelief before tears form in your eyes, "i can't believe you right now, keigo."

hawks' brows knit as he stares at you bewildered, "i've already told you that it's just an act i have to out up because of the commission. i can't let them figure out i have a romantic relationship with someone. you don't know what they would do or could do."

"but that doesn't mean you can flirt around with no boundaries!" your voice comes out loud as your arms flail out in front of you, tears streaming down your face, "do you know how much it hurts to see you on television sweet-talking every girl out there when you're my boyfriend? i thought you would respect what we have..."

"(name), just admit you're just jealous of the fangirls and leave it at that," hawks closes his eyes, shaking his head in frustration, "honestly, they appreciate me so much more than you do."

your eyes widen in shock as you feel your heart shattering into tiny pieces so small you aren't sure if you could piece it back up.

"keigo, i love you for who you are—not because you're hawks," your voice now small and laced with hurt. "if you can't see the reason why i am so upset, i think it's best if we end it."

hawks' eyes quickly glance to yours before they look away just as quick, "i think that's what's best too," he whispers, causing your brows to furrow in sadness as you purse your lips tightly.

taking a step forward, you wrap your arms around your now ex-boyfriend, taking in his comforting arms and smell, "thanks for everything." a heavy sigh left from his lips before he nuzzled into you, "can i hold you in bed one last time?"

words died in your throat as you felt the tears sting your eyes once more. a nod was your only reply as hawks lifted the two of you up with his large wings, carrying you into the bedroom.

no words were exchanged as the two of you allowed your quiet breaths to mingle together in silence.

your heart was still achey from the fresh break-up as your cries and tears quietly filled the air. your nose and eyes red and raw from all the wiping you had done—the tissues around you as proof.

"hey, come on. you can't keep living like this and expect to get better," mirko says and she stands infront of you with a small smile. "how about we watch something to distract your mind?" she suggests as she turns around to pick up the controller to turn the television screen on.

"hawks, being the number two hero must be so taxing! how do you do it?"

hawks gives that big bright smile you've always loved, "my fans always give me motivation to do my best! i love you my babybirds!"

"oh shit-" mirko quickly turns the television screen off before she turns over to you, watching as your lips quiver before you break out in another crying session.

"rumi," you whine, muffled behind your tissues, "he doesn't care for me at all!" letting out a sigh, she walks over and places a comforting hand on your hair before running her hand through your locks, "hey, don't say that. hawks' cared for you a lot. break-ups happen, but don't let it keep you like this. let's go out and have some fun today, yeah?"

your teary eyes glance up at her before you let out sigh, "okay."

but to your surprise, a quick hour later here you were on a chair getting your makeup done professionally as mirko sat on the couch, munching away on a carrot. "rumi? why am i getting my makeup done professionally?"

"my makeup artist is good at what she does when she beats my face with makeup for those hero galas. i thought it would make you feel better getting your makeup done professionally before we go out and explore the city a bit," she finishes, taking another crunchy bite of her carrot.

a small, "oh" leaves your lips before your attention focuses back on the lipstick that gently glided across your lips. "there, all done. you look great!" the makeup artist cheers as she hands you a mirror.

your eyes sparkled once you saw your reflection—you had never felt so pretty before!

"are you ready to go out now?" mirko asks with a smile as she stands from her seat. you couldn't help the small, yet excited, smile, "yeah."

your words had been on repeat in hawks' mind.

you were upset because of how he was treating his fans—flirting with his fans as you put it. it was a constant argument the two of you had and frankly, he was getting tired of it. why you couldn't understand where he was coming from?

he didn't want to break up because of something so trivial, but it seemed like a break up was the only option. but it was fine, his fans kept him going; or that's what he thought was keeping him going.

"hawks! we love you!" his fans cried as he landed down in front of them, his handsome smile swooning everyone lucky enough to get their eye on him. "thanks birdies! i'm always happy to have your support!"

"can i have a picture?" "sign my shirt for me!" "you're the best hero!"

fans; something he enjoyed about being a hero. everywhere he went, they were there to offer him their love and support which he appreciated and loved!

but there often came days when he just wanted to stay cooped in his apartment. away from the world and away from the hero hawks. he simply wanted to escape and enjoy being keigo for a little while.

maintaining a facade took a lot away from him. it was tiring, exhausting even, trying to keep up with how fast his mind was going. a million different things happening at once and hawks had to be able to solve them. a little much for a single guy, don't 'cha think?

landing in at his balcony, hawks let out a heavy sigh as he was finally done with another tiring day of being the number two hero. thankfully, he had the next day off to do, well, nothing.

staring at the dark apartment with a an empty look, hawks let out a groan of exhaustion before unlocking the door and stepping in.

it was quiet, extra quiet these days. since he had gone to living by himself again.

after removing his hero gear, hawks walked into the kitchen and frowned at his lack of food in the fridge. usually, you were always there to greet him with a smile and a hearty dinner after a hard day at work.

well, that didn't matter anymore because you two had broken up, hawks mentally responded to his thoughts.

it seemed like tonight was one of those nights he really missed you.

you made this place feel like home and the more he thought about it, you were his home. he was safe with you and it was okay to let hawks go for the night and just be keigo. you loved him as he came, his flaws and everything. even the emotional baggage!

letting out an exhausted sigh, hawks closed his empty fridge before making his way towards his bed, plopping down with a grunt. "i'll just get a bigger breakfast tomorrow," he noted, pulling out his phone to catch up on his social media for the night.

hawks wasn't expecting to see much on his social media, he's too busy to be checking these sorts of things. today though, he was a little extra bored at home—until he saw a photo of you that mirko shared.

hawks quickly sat up in disbelief. hawks was genuinely confused. you had always been super pretty, but you were extra pretty in this picture. was it because you were no longer his? his eyes glanced over you in the photo for many long minutes as he took in your beauty. you looked so ethereal.

hawks was so thankful for mirko, he would have never stumbled across this photo of you.

the more he smiled at the photo, the more his heart ached. if only he just listened to you more and tried to find a solution to this problem, you would still be with him, in his arms. he was a fool to let you go because he didn't understand your pain. especially when you were always there for him when you couldn't understand his pain.

hawks found himself pulling up that photo of you whenever the days were tough. it never failed to bring a smile to his lips.

until mirko deleted the post.

he should've saved it when he had the chance, hawks thought as he let out a groan upon finding no picture. but, maybe mirko still had it on her phone? thankfully, there was a top five hero meeting that day which meant he could ask mirko about the picture.

hawks sat impatiently in his chair as he drummed his finger against his thigh, counting down the minutes until the meeting would conclude. it must've been distracting, because mirko approached him first after the meeting.

"hey birdbrain, what's up with you? you looked distracted during the meeting," mirko questioned walking up to the winged hero. hawks perked up slightly, before giving her a smile, "hmm? nah, just sick of meetings, wanted to get out." mirko eyed him curiously, "if you say so."

"i saw that picture you posted of (name)," he commented, "you two were hanging out?"

"huh? oh, this picture?" pulling up the picture on her phone, she showed him the photo before pulling away to hawks' dismay. "yeah, we went out. it was about time too! (name) seemed to be enjoying herself, so i'm glad i got to capture that."

hawks couldn't help the smile on his lips knowing that you were happy and could enjoy yourself. he really just wanted you to be happy, even if that wasn't with him.

"if you wanted the photo, you could've just asked," mirko smirks, causing hawks to duck his head down in embarrassment. "but even if you ask, im not giving it to you." Hawks turned his head brows furrowed and confused, slightly offended, "why would you even suggest it then?"

"not sure, maybe it'll be a way to encourage you to find a way to get it."

mirko had an interesting way of talking, hawks thought as he continued on with his patrol. it seemed like she was hinting at more than what she was saying, but he wasn't really interested in solving puzzles when he was busy being the number 2 hero.

and boy, was he busy busy.

it felt as if all the villains knew hawks would be out on patrol today, using that to their advatange by stiring up so much more trouble than on a typical day—not that he couldn't handle it, it was just more work that he would have hoped to do that day.

from the sky, he could see a crowd forming below on the streets as they cheered him on for another successful capture. hawks let out an exhausted sigh, but floated down to greet his fans nonetheless. there even happened to be press.

"hawks! you were amazing out there!" "great work! i can always count on you!" "you looked so attractive fighting those villains!"

hawks lifted up his visor and gave the fans a handsome grin, causing a chorus of squeals. hawks glanced at one of the fans near him lips curled in a smirk, mouth ready to open and say a few lines that would send arrows straight to the heart when he subconsciously stopped himself.

closing his mouth, he gave her a gentle smile before a soft reply came out, "thank you for supporting me."

it was weird of him to respond to fans in such fashion, but your words were stuck in the back of his head. he wished he could have acted this way before you two broke it off, it would have saved a lot of heartache.

hawks hoped you would notice his change. and unbeknownst to him, you had.

your eyes were glued to the television that aired the news that also happened to feature your ex-boyfriend, hawks. your heart felt fuzzy as you watched him, he seemed different...more down to earth?

"your eyes haven't left the tv since hawks appeared," mirko comments causing you to avert your eyes embarrassed. "i was just interested in the news for today, that's all," you tried but knew mirko wouldn't buy into your lie.

"yeah, okay. keep telling yourself that," she chuckles as she she sits down beside you. "so, whats going on in that head of yours now?"

"he's different now, rumi," you state, eyes drifting back to the screen. "he's talking to his fans like they're fans." your shoulders slump sadly, "i wish he was like this when we were together...i guess he really doesn't care about me after all."

mirko lets out a grunt as she listens to your moping. turning towards her, you notice her adjusting her purple thigh high socks to sit snugly against her upper thighs, "you have patrol this evening?"

"yep, my turn for an evening patrol. they're not that bad, more bad guys come out at night," she jokes with chuckle but you don't find it funny. "i know you can easily beat them, but that doesn't mean i worry any less for you," you sigh. "stay safe please."

"will do, cry baby," she jokes once more causing you to angrily pout, "i'm not a cry baby!" "says the one crying over hawks. bye!" and with that she quickly leaves out the door before you could throw a pillow at her.

rolling your eyes playfully, you walk over toward the bedroom you shared with mirko. you had a nice futon on the floor beside of her bed that surprisingly was very comfy. organizing her room a bit and folding her clothes she tossed around, you tried to busy yourself until she came back.

which was surprisingly short.

you heard the main door swing open before hearing her move around the living room and kitchen. she must've forgotten something, you thought to yourself as you made your way toward the bedroom door you had previously closed behind you.

"rumi? did you forget something?" you ask as you open the door, just to find yourself staring at the stranger in the apartment who donned a black ski mask with some sort of weapon in their hand. unfortunately your voice had caught their attention and their head quickly turned toward you before bolting it down the hallway for you.

screaming, you quickly shut the door and locked it before the thief could get in. the rattle of the doorknob causes you to let out another shriek as you looked around for a way to protect yourself and to escape.

the only solution that came to your mind was to block the door with whatever heavy furniture mirko had on her room which consisted of her bed, a desk and her clothes drawers. you did your best to block the door, but it was proving to be not enough.

"open the door and i won't hurt you miss," the voice called out and you felt your stomach twist from their words.

you scurried around to look for your phone and thankfully found it amongst this chaos and your body went on auto-pilot and dialed the first person that came to your mind whenever you were in danger.

your shaky hand brought your phone to your ear as you ran into the furthest corner of her room. your free hand covering your trembling lips. please pick up.

"hello? (name)?"

"keigo please help me," you cried quietly so the person on the other side couldn't hear you, but the desperation in your voice was clear as day for hawks. "(name)? whats happening? where are you?" his voice was now firm and laced with worry as you began to sob in through the phone.

"i'm at mirko's and she just left for patrol but someone broke in and i hid myself in her room. i'm so scared, please come quick." and right after he heard you squeak in fear from the unidentified noises through your phone.

"i'm coming right now," you could hear the power his wings had as he lift himself into the sky, "does she have any windows you can exit from?" glancing behind you, you took a mental note that her windows were large enough for you to escape through—the only problem was mirko lived on the tenth floor.

squeezing your eyes shut, you nodded even though hawks could not see you, "yeah, but she doesn't have any escape ladders and i'm on the tenth floor." hawks cursed under his breath on the other side, "just hold on, i'm almost there."

clutching onto your phone, you jumped when the barricade you made against the door was getting tossed around from the force of the stranger on the other side trying to break in. scrambling around, you quickly unlocked the window before opening it, allowing the wind to flow in.

with another jolt from the door all of your barricades flew from the door, leaving it vulnerable. you knew the door would fall with his next move, so with trembling hands, you maneuvered your body outside the window, letting your bottom sit on the window frame.

from a distance, you could hear someone calling out your name. when you narrowed your eyes to focus, all of the stress left your body as you watched them shoot towards you. hawks had come to your rescue!

but hawks wasn't close enough.

the door behind you broke allowing the stranger into the room and before they could grab a hold of you, you jumped.

"(name)!"

as your body free fell down towards the earth, hawks used his wings to give himself one strong push forward before folding his wings tightly behind his back to gain speed to reach you.

reaching his arms out, he caught you in time before shooting back up towards the sky, "that was so stupid of you!" you shouted loudly against the wind, "what if i wasn't there in time?"

glancing up at him, you gave him a small smile, "i just knew you'd get to me in time ."

"agh, more paperwork i have to fill out!" mirko groans as she walks around her messy apartment after hawks and her had caught the suspect and had cops take care of him. as she walked away into her bedroom with a line of curses, you quietly turned over towards hawks who had his back facing you. he was on call with the commission.

"yep, i'll get that finished tomorrow," ending his call and stuffing his phone in his pocket, he turns around to find you staring at him. his cheeks flush slightly from the sudden eye contact, but he managed to compose himself. "are you doing alright? that must've been quite the terrifying experience."

"yeah, thanks for picking up. you were the first person i thought to call," you confess and he perks up. "oh yeah?"

"you've always kept me safe and i just really needed you when i was in danger. so thanks," giving him a smile he mirrors you. "of course, anything for you."

your heart flutters from his words, but you slightly turn yourself away, glancing down. you two were no longer dating, so there was no need to get butterflies over him again. "well, thanks again. you must have a busy day tomorrow."

"do you buy any chance still have that photo of you when you were out with mirko?" hawks asks suddenly causing you to glance up at him. "you know, when you two went out a couple weeks ago? you were all dolled up and honestly, just super pretty?" hawks says boldly with a sheepish grin.

"why are you asking?"

"send it my way."

you gawked at him, "you want me to send you a picture of me? we're not dating anymore, that would be weird!" hawks could only shrug, "okay, that's simple then. let's go on a date." you gawked even further, "what is going on inside of that bird brain? all this for a photo?"

"i want to be the one who takes those photos of you. i want to be the reason you get all dolled up. i know i messed up, (name). i've been changing the way i talk to my fans because i understand how i hurt you. could you give me another chance to make it better? i promise i will treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

this was coming too suddenly, your wounds were just starting to heal.

"you...you don't mean that, hawks," you say dejectedly as you back up to sit on mirko's couch. "i'm scared."

"he means it you know?" mirko pops out of the hallway suddenly and stands with her arms crossed against her chest as she stares at the two of you. "he's been asking me for that picture nonstop since he saw it online."

"but he really does love you still, (name) and i know you still love him too. go ahead and give it another shot, i'll be here to kick him to the curb if he does anything bad to you." she encourages, making you glance back towards hawks.

"promise?" your eyes are sparkly from the tears that had glossed over your eyes and hawks gives you a confident nod, "promise. i'll pick you up at six tomorrow?"

you couldn't help your growing smile, "yeah, i'll be waiting."

- e x t r a -

as hawks flew off towards his apartment, the notification ding of his phone went off causing him to take a look. you had sent him a text!

opening the message his eyes widen from the photo you sent, it was the cute pic of you all dolled up!

"i'm so in love!" he shouts loudly in the sky.

#hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #keigo x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader

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dreamerstreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Pocket Knife Prince

Pairing: c!Technoblade x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You’ve liked Technoblade from the moment he joined Pogtopia, but you could never quite bring yourself to confess. Who knew it would only take a pocket knife and some potatoes to change that?

Warnings: minor cursing & one slightly out of pocket joke

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this a repost of an older story i had posted a while back. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you enjoy! <3

You huffed as you pulled yourself up another rung on the ladder, your arms straining as you did your best to keep yourself balanced. You still couldn’t fathom why Tommy thought it was a good idea to dig straight down.

“I’ll hit a cave, eventually,” he had told you as he grabbed a pickaxe, already starting to mine away at the space beneath his feet.

“Maybe,” you had said. “But what if you hit a lava pool? Do you really want to burn alive?”

“Oh, I have a backup plan in case I fuck up.” He held up a bucket of water, grinning at you. “Bam. Fucking foolproof.”

Yeah, sure, you thought to yourself with a grimace as you continued to haul yourself upward. You might not have died while digging down, but I might die while climbing up.

Pausing, you reached behind you to adjust the strap of your back with a cry of frustration. This is way too heavy—I should have gone back earlier.

You looked back up again, squinting for a second before your eyes lit up. At long last, light! You were at least somewhat close to the entrance, now. “Just a bit more climbing,” you muttered to yourself as you reached up once more, “and then you’ll be able to take this stupid bag off.”

A few moments later, you gasped as you finally dragged yourself out of the vertical tunnel, standing up on shaky legs. Without even an ounce of hesitation, you swung your pack off your back, dumping it onto the dusty earth ungracefully. Your muscles practically screamed with relief as you rolled back your shoulders, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Hey, boys!” you shouted, your voice echoing in the tall ravine. “Guess who’s back?!”

You heard some rumbling, then a tuft of blond hair peeked out from one of the overhanging pillars. “Big [Y/N]!” Tommy shouted, waving at you. “You took for-fuckin’-ever to get back.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not my fault we needed so much stuff.” You narrowed your gaze. “Also, your ladder idea sucks.”

Tommy scowled. “My ladder idea is fucking genius, you bi—”

A new voice cut in. “Tommy, that’s enough.”

You smiled triumphantly as you watched Tommy immediately shrink back, his tone quieting as he grumbled defeatedly, “Yes, Wilbur.”

Giving him a quick ruffle of his hair, Wilbur strolled down the ravine’s cobblestone steps down to the bottom. He pulled his hands out of his coat pockets as he flashed you a grin. “Welcome back, [Y/N]. How was the trip?”

You offered him a weary but satisfied look. “Oh, you know. Dark. Dusty. The usual. But…” Bending down, you flipped open the top of your pack and pulled out a smaller sack, shaking it in front of his face. “…I got all that gold you wanted! There’s probably a little less than seven stacks in there, which will be plenty if we want to make some golden apples.”

Wilbur blinked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise as a smile began to tug at his lips. “Not that I doubt you or anything,” he said, “but where in the world did you manage to get nearly seven stacks of gold?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, dropping the bag into his hands with a hum. “In a cave.” When he stared at you in stunned silence, you quirked a brow at him. “What? It’s not like it was hard.”

He was grinning now, shaking his head. “You’re batshit crazy, [Y/N]. That’s incredible.”

You smiled sheepishly at his words. “For the record,” you pointed out, “I didn’t do it all in a single day or anything. I was gone for, like, half a week.”

“That’s still really good work, alright?” He reached over, playfully punching your shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

You winced, shooting him a dirty look. “Ow, that hur—”

“Oh, you’re back.”

Your head whipped around at the sound of low, rumbling voice. Your frown vanished at the sight of Technoblade standing a few feet away from you, a basket of potatoes held in his gloved hands. You felt your heart swell and a bright grin replace your scowl as you bounced over to him. “Hi, Techno!” you chirped.

He smiled back at you, his gaze kind. “Hello.”

From behind you, Wilbur let out a distressed noise. “Jeez, you seem so excited to talk to him but barely batted an eye at me. Did you miss him that much?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, trying to hide the flush of your cheeks. “More than I did you.”

Tommy cackled as he walked by, adjusting the straps of the pack in his hands. “Ouch. Maybe you should get some ice for that burn, Wilbur.”

Wilbur grimaced, opening his mouth to retort when his gaze suddenly lit up. “Actually,” he said, turning, “speaking of ice, who wants to go with me to the Nether to destroy some of the SMP’s and Manberg’s ice roads?” A devilish grin split across his face. “I figured that it would slow them down a bunch and they’d spend less time focusing on us, so it’ll be easier for us to get into contact with Tubbo.”

You blinked at him, then sent him a teasing smile. “Wilbur, this might one of the only good ideas you’ve had since starting a drug cartel.”

“Thank y—wait, is that a compliment?”

“Man,” Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at him, “just take it as one and let your ego coast on that for the next six months.”

“Anyways,” Wilbur said, ignoring him and moving on, “who wants to come with me?”

You shook your head, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “No thanks. I just got back from a long, long mining trip. I think I’m due for some time off.”

Wilbur nodded. “Alright, fair.” His gaze moved to the figure standing next to you. “Techno?”

Technoblade simply raised the basket of potatoes in his hands. “Nah. I’ve got my hands full here.”

Wilbur made a face, a hint of desperation seeping into his eyes. “You can farm potatoes any time,” he said, his voice raising a pitch or two. “How about you just come with m—”

“Why don’t I just go?”

Wilbur froze, and he turned with a shaky smile. “A-Are you sure about that, Tommy? You sure you don’t just want to stay in the ravine with [Y/N]?”

Tommy shrugged, flipping the stick in his hand. “Not really. It’s not like I have anything better to do, anyways.” He nudged the pack at his feet. “I’m even packed and ready to go, too.”

Wilbur swallowed, and you could have sworn a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “You really want to come?” he added, sounding more and more uncertain with each word that passed his lips.

“I dunno, Wilbur,” Technoblade spoke up, quirking his lips at him, “but it almost sounds like you don’t want to bring Tommy with you.”

Tommy gasped, looking appalled. “What the hell, Will? Of course you want me to go with you, right?”

Wilbur turned on his heel, dragging a tired hand over his face. “Sure, Tommy. Let’s just say that.” He strode away toward the stairs, practically stomping his way up to the second floor. “Just give me a second to grab a pack,” he sighed, waving a hand behind him. “I’ll be down in like five minutes.”

Tommy threw his hands in the air, waving his stick. “Fuck yeah!”

Technoblade let out a quiet chuckle, turning on his heel. “Well, I’m gonna go back to farming.”

You glanced at him shyly, trailing after him. “Can I come with?”

His step faltered, and he turned to send you a fond look. “Always.”

Your heart lit up at the sight and you grinned, following him into the garden room. The entirety of the floor had been replaced with dirt, tiny streams of water weaving their way around the potato patches. You let out a quiet hum as Technoblade set the basket of potatoes on the ground, grabbing a hoe from its place on the wall and walking over to the makeshift field. Digging the blade of the hoe into the earth, he pulled back and repeated the motion until the soft, dark soil was exposed to the air. Leaning back against the wall, a soft smile crept onto your face as you watched.

You remembered when Technoblade first arrived in the Dream SMP, all those months ago. You had been sitting in the ravine, peeling an apple with a pocket knife as you chatted with Wilbur, when Tommy burst in with a deafening shout about “the blade”. Raising your head, you had opened your mouth to make a snarky retort, but the words died in your mouth the minute you laid eyes on him.

He looked like a prince—a handsome one, at that.

While Wilbur had jumped down to greet Technoblade with a friendly hug, you had simply stared at the newcomer, pocket knife in your hand and apple slice in the other. As Tommy brought Technoblade over to you and asked you to introduce yourself, you remembered that dizzy pink feeling rising in your chest as you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Want an apple slice?”

You had expected him to be confused, shaking his head and pulling away with a disgusted look. But instead, his gaze flickered to your hand.

“I’d rather have the knife.”

You had blinked at him for a moment, stunned, then burst into laughter, outstretching your hand with the pocket knife handle extended toward him. He had offered you a small, awkward smile back, gingerly taking the knife from you. When his hands brushed against yours, that hazy, rosy feeling swelled in your chest again.

Ever since that moment, you’d only fallen harder and harder.

It was difficult to put into words just what drew you to Technoblade. Of course, he was pretty, but you weren’t that shallow. He had an awkward charm to him, something that seeped into every aspect of his being. He was hardworking, determined, sarcastic, and oh-so very real. You couldn’t name one thing about him that you didn’t like, really. You loved his laughter that came in brief, giggling bursts. Every time he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back. He never failed to keep you guessing, and you loved every second you spent with him.

You weren’t sure how far you’d fallen at this point, but you knew one thing, and it was that there was no going back.

“Hey,” a new voice said suddenly, pulling you away from your thoughts. You turned, watching Tommy stick his head into the room. “Can I have some potatoes for the trip?”

Your eyes shot to Technoblade, who paused for a moment, then nodded, gesturing to the basket at his feet. “Sure. You can have a couple.”

Tommy grinned, strolling in to lean down and pluck three potatoes from the pile. Standing back up again, he toed the basket, tossing and catching a potato in his hands. “Hey, Techno,” he said, “don’t you ever get tired of farming these things?”

Technoblade paused, patting down the dirt he had just covered another potato with. “Eh, not really.” His eyes flickered with contentment, and you felt your lips twitch. “I like it.”

Tommy frowned. “But,” he said, “it’s so fucking boring.”

You gasped, shooting him a glare. “Tommy! That’s mean.”

“What? Am I wrong?” He flung his arm out to point at the tilled dirt, clearly unimpressed. “All he’s doing is the same fucking thing over and over, again. We’re in a war, [Y/N]. Why can’t he just spar with me or something?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, deadpanning. “Tommy, the last time you sparred with Technoblade, you lasted less than ten seconds.”

He grew quiet. “Okay, well, you didn’t have to put it like that, but—”

“What? Am I wrong?” you said, mimicking him.

A second passed. Then two.

“…touché, [Y/N].”

“Tommy!” Wilbur’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs, his head popping out from between the railings. “You ready to go?”

Without missing a beat, Tommy whipped around, rushing out of the farm room and slipping up the stairs. “I’m coming!”

A smirk tugged at Wilbur’s lips. “Heh.”

“Wha—oh, Will! That’s fucking disgusting.”

“But it was funny,” you called out after the youngest.

“Fuck off, [Y/N]!”

Beside you, Technoblade let out a laugh, his eyes curving into two crescent moons as he set down the hoe and picked up a shovel. With a fond smile gracing your lips, you took a step toward him, leaning down to take a closer look. There was something so endearing about knowing someone as powerful as Technoblade had a hobby as mundane as farming—farming potatoes, to be more specific.

You liked it. A lot. You liked him a lot.

You wondered how much longer you could go without saying it aloud.

“Hey, Techno,” you murmured, watching his ears perk up at the sound of your voice, “could you teach me the best way to plant potatoes?”

He paused, his shovel planting itself in the earth as he turned to look at you, his lips parted in surprise. “Y-You actually want to learn?”

You bobbed your head, praying that your face wasn’t growing any warmer. “Of course. Fighting’s fun and all, but there’s more to life than just bloodshed.” You flashed him a bright grin. “Besides, an army needs food to fight!”

With a small grin, he gestured for you step closer. “You want to make sure you dig about six to eight inches down,” he explained, gesturing down the hole with his finger. “If you don’t dig deep enough, then the potato will be too close to the surface, and if you dig too deep, it’ll have a harder time reaching the top.”

You nodded, your tongue swiping over your lips in concentration. Technoblade let out a brief cough, turning away with a slight flush to his cheeks as he grabbed a potato from the basket next to him. “Then,” he continued, “grab a potato. You’ll want to cut it in half down the middle and plant it so the cut side is facing downwards.”

Sticking a hand into his pocket, he rummaged around for a second before pulling out a familiar pocket knife. Your eyes flashed with recognition as he flipped the blade open and sliced through the potato with ease.

“Is that,” you began slowly, your tone tentative and gentle, “my pocket knife? From when we first met?”

Technoblade’s hands faltered as he sliced, his gaze flickering to you with a bashful look. “It’s—um, yeah. Does… does that bother you?”

You immediately shook your head, waving your hands in front of you. “No, not at all! I-I was just wondering. I haven’t seen it in a while, that’s all.”

He lowered his chin, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “I’ve been taking good care of it,” he admitted quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “It’s important to me.”

You blinked, your heart beating faster in your chest. “It is?” you whispered.

He nodded. “It is.”

You wanted to curl up into a ball and squeal. It only took two simple words from him to send you into a flurry of awkward smiles and blushing whines. You couldn’t believe just how far gone you were.

Technoblade stretched a hand toward you, half of the potato he cut clutched between his fingers. “Here. You try planting one.”

With a shaky hand, you gently pulled the potato from his hands, nearly flinching at the feeling of his skin brushing against yours. Carefully, you reached over and set the potato face down like he had instructed. You pointed your hand toward the pile of dirt lying just beside the hole, about to start covering the potato when his arm shot out in front of you.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, making you freeze in place. “You don’t have gloves on. I don’t want your hands to get dirty.”

You sent him a small smile, waving a hand dismissively at him. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

He didn’t budge. “Please. Let me.”

That fuzzy feeling was back, and you pulled back. “Okay,” you whispered, your stomach swarming with butterflies as you watched him cover your planted potato with his hands. For someone who made a lot of jokes regarding human ethics, he was far more caring than he let on.

“Y’know,” you said softly, glancing over at him, “it’s really cool watching you do this, even if Tommy thinks it’s boring.” A small smile flitted across your face. “There are all these specific conditions that you have to know to have the most efficient farm with the best percent yield of potatoes—it’s honestly kind of surreal just how much brainpower actually goes into farming.”

Technoblade stared at you, his eyes reflecting something thoughtful and warm, and another thought popped into your head. You felt your cheeks begin to grow warm at the words swirling around your head. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you opened your mouth, again.

“I-I, um,” you began shakily, suddenly finding the scuff mark on your shoe very interesting, “I really hope you know how smart we think you really are. How smart I know you are. Because you are. Smart, that is.”

You must have been trembling, you could almost feel it. Why was it so hard to put your feelings into words? At this rate, you were never going to be able to confess how you felt. Just how much longer could you drag this out fo—

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, your lips parting as you looked at him in surprise. The moment his soft gaze met yours, a spark of electricity ran through your veins, and you shivered for an entirely different reason.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tilting his head at you. “I appreciate it.”

Suddenly, he squinted his eyes at you, his carmine gaze narrowing. “Oh wait, you’ve got something on your face,” he murmured, inching closer in to take a better look.

“Oh,” you said, a hand immediately darting up to your cheek, “that’s probably just some dust or soot or something. You know, from the mines.” You wiped at your face with the back of your hand, embarrassment shooting up your spine knowing that you probably looked dumb. “Did I get it?”

He frowned, pulling off his gloves as he leaned closer. “No, here let me just—”

Suddenly, his hand was on your face, your cheek held gently in his palm. Your heart came barreling to a stop, your entire body freezing like ice.

He was so close.

The pads of his finger were warm and calloused, yet they held a certain softness to him as his thumb slowly swiped just under her eye, careful to brush away the dirt that marred your face. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you found yourself unable to look away from him, hyperaware of the goosebumps that shot up your sides as his gaze met yours. A prince—he really did look like a prince.

For a moment, the two of you simply gazed at one another, a silent question hanging over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth.

“Can I say something kind of crazy?” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered, not moving his gaze from yours for even a heartbeat.

You sucked in a deep breath, screwing your eyes shut. “I…” You swallowed. “I really, really want to kiss you, right now.”

A moment of silence passed, and you held your breath, tension digging itself into your shoulders. Oh, I’m totally about to get rejected. This was such a bad idea. What was I even thinki—

“Can—” He started then stopped, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “Can I say something even crazier?”

You heart leapt. “Yeah, totally,” you breathed.

He turned back to look at you, and you felt something deep in your chest click. “I really, really want to kiss you, too.”

Your eyes flew wide, and you couldn’t stop the giddy grin forming on your face. Almost imperceptibly, Technoblade dipped his head down close to yours, his crimson eyes darting across your face as he took in your every feature. As he leaned closer toward you, a question silently flashes in his gaze.

Can I…?

You smiled and nodded oh-so subtly, just for him to see.

Yes, yes, yes.

Ever so slowly, he leaned down toward you, and you felt your eyelids flutter shut. Just then, his lips met yours, soft and tentative like a deer taking its first, shaky steps. Electric ran down your spine at his velvet touch, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck and touch his cherry blossom pink hair. His crown tumbled to the ground off his head, rolling a few times before coming to a full stop, but neither of you particularly noticed, far too enraptured with one another to care.

This was everything you could have possibly asked for.

A moment later, you pulled apart, gasping for air as the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes. His hair had been mussed by your touch, his lips parted and puffy from the kiss.

You didn’t think he could look any more princely, but he still managed to prove you wrong.

Clearing your throat, you cast eyes away in shy embarrassment. “I feel like I should also clarify that this means I like you,” you added in a rush, fidgeting with your hands. “Like, way more than I thought I could ever like a person.”

Technoblade let out a sigh of relief, lips curling at the corners. “Oh, that’s good. I like you, too.” Your heart did a backflip in your chest, shouting in celebration as he added, “I was sort of thinking we were just gonna kiss and never talk about it, again.”

You shot him a quizzical look. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

He sent you a crooked smile, but his gaze was fond. “Only kind of.”

You weren’t quite sure how many minutes passed in comfortable silence, both of you simply basking in the other’s warm presence. It was nice—this was nice. You wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while longe—

“—y it, Tommy, just say it!”

Your eyes shot wide open in panic. Across from you, Technoblade’s expression mirrored your own.

They were back.

“I’m telling you it’s okay, Tommy—you can call me ‘Wilby’ if you want to!”

Flailing your arms in a panic, you immediately began to backpedal to the other side of the room, Technoblade picking up his shovel and beginning to shovel as fast as he could.

“You’re still going off about this shit? Jesus Christ, I don’t want to call you ‘Wilby’, oh my fucking go—”

Wilbur crooned as they stepped into the garden room, “Aww, Tommy, my little gremlin.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wilbu—”

“B-Back so soon?” you prompted, pretending to have been looking at the potato field with great focus as you turned to face them.

Wilbur turned away from Tommy, the smile sliding off his face. He nodded with a sigh, adjusting the pack on his back. “We almost got to the portal, but Antfrost saw us, so we had to book it.”

Technoblade paused his movements, deadpanning with an unimpressed tone. “Tragic.”

Tommy scowled at him. “Don’t sound so cocky, bitch. You didn’t have to outrun like, half of the SMP all the way back here without getting tracked.” Suddenly his gaze shot to the ground, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “And why’s your fuckin’ crown on the ground?” he muttered, snatching it from the dusty floor and tossing it back over to Technoblade.

“No reason,” you said half a beat too quickly.

Wilbur’s eyes flitted back forth between you and Technoblade, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and Technoblade’s disheveled hair. Then, a sly, scheming smile crept onto his face. You gulped.

Oh, he totally knew.

“Tommy,” he said, the shit-eating grin still plastered to his face, “how do you feel about going on another trip with me?”

Tommy’s head whipped around, his eyes swimming with confusion. “Another trip?” he parroted.

Wilbur nodded, still smiling. “Yep. Another trip. Let’s get going, yeah? I’ve got something wonderful in mind.”

Before Tommy could even react, Wilbur had grabbed onto the handle of his pack, dragging him back and up the stairs. “Wilbur! What the fuck? Where are we even fucking going?”

“On a trip!” Wilbur sang as he trudged up the stairs with Tommy in tow. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he sent you a knowing wink. “You two have fun, now.”

You gaped at him as he walked off, Tommy still kicking at his heels when they vanished from sight. A moment passed in silence before you turned to look at Technoblade, again.

“He knows,” you whispered, half in awe and half in horror.

Technoblade grimaced back at you. “Oh, he absolutely does.”

A beat of silence fell over you. Your eyes locked onto his carmine ones, and something seemed to click just then, a smile crossing both of your faces.

Indeed, Wilbur had just provided you with the perfect opportunity.

Who were the two of you to not take it?

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