#I'll just say for now he hasn't had the wonderful 'fun times' in the train station yet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stereax · 7 months ago

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hello!! for the drafts thing: “bless your waters, bless your doubts” what did you set out to do with this? what changed that caused you to put it on hold? what are the themes that jump out at you, what story were you trying to tell? also, is the title a reference to something? i love to hear about the creative process!! :3

- puckpocketed on main

Yes!!! Oh my god, this was such a fun project that I began undertaking. Just couldn't keep going on it. More under the cut.

So yes! The title is a reference to the Devils' goal song. Here it is, if you haven't heard it (or if you haven't heard it in its entirety) before.

youtube

Okay third time's the charm my posts are being chewed upon by tumblr please dear lord let me post this this time please please PLEASE

[inhales] Okay! So the initial premise of this fic is incredibly simple. Dougie Hamilton, one of the Devils' better defensemen, has a running joke going where the Devils claim he's the admin of our social media. Hamilton slapshot goals are posted with a caption of "I scored!", Dougie's been roped into the act a few times, the like. So obviously this means someone's gotta write a Dougie Hamilton social media admin AU. I'm surprised nobody has yet. Devilsblr, get on it.

Anyway. I think the indents are messing up my post so let's try to post step by step. Instead of indenting snippets, I'll italicize them.

"What?"

Of all the things Dougie Hamilton had expected to hear when being pulled aside by the media team before the first game of the season, this was not it. The hockey player reclines in his seat, rubbing at one of his eyes. "You want me to do what?" he repeats.

Across from him sits Christopher Wescott, leader of the social media team if memory serves Dougie right. A quick glance down at Wescott's placard on his desk, prominently placed, confirms it. Director, Content Strategy & Social Media. Then again, Wescott usually wasn't seen filming anything, or talking to the players even, unless it was roping a certain Jack Hughes in front of a camera to try to get him to sell the youth foundation. That took all hands on deck. They even got the players involved in that one.

Gravy celebrated that hundred-dollar bonus for capturing Jack harder than any goal he's scored with the man. Colorado sleeper agent, Severson complained the next day. I would've doubled it if he let me go, Hughes complained in concurrence.

Dougie didn't remember when the media crew ever needed the hockey equivalent of a SWAT team, not in Boston or Calgary or Raleigh. Then again, maybe he's just not used to Jersey yet. (It's not New Jersey, Nico clued him in before one of his first post-game interviews. Just Jersey. Say New Jersey and they know you're not from here. Just Jersey and you're one of the locals.)

And here, in Just Jersey, Christopher Wescott wants Dougie Hamilton to take a second job.

"The younger generation of fans like memes," Wescott explains. The word memes rolls off his tongue like Dougie rolls out of bed after a physical game; that is to say, falls like a paperweight and ends up on the floor sprawled awkwardly, wondering why he hasn't retired and become a lawyer like his father yet. Wescott is what, five years older than Dougie, maybe? From the way he speaks, it sounds like he's an old man trying to commit the name of his smart speaker to memory. Erica, remind me to buy rice.

"And the team said you're supposedly the best at making them," Wescott continues, snapping Dougie out of this train of thought.

"Rice?" Dougie echoes, confused. "Anyone can make rice. It's just an orange packet you put in the microwave, you rip the top off a bit..."

Wescott sighs, running a hand through his hair. He's definitely thinking some dumb hockey player stereotype right now; Dougie can tell by the way his brow furrows in annoyance. "Look," and here he drops his volume two steps, scooting forward to lean across his desk, and oh this is serious? Dougie better pay at least enough attention to remember this discussion. No more rice. "I thought social media posting was just going to be putting up reverse retro pictures and celebrating stars of the week if we get any. You know, standard fare. But Andrew floated the idea with us a few weeks back and we really think we can get ahead of the league in capturing younger fans with a more dynamic social media presence." Of course it was Maclean, or, as the team called him, Picture Day. One guess as to why.

"And where do I get involved in this?" Dougie asks, but he realizes even as he asks that it's not going to change his final answer.

"We were thinking to make a meme after every win." Wescott pauses. "Oh, and some other reels and things for when it's needed. Of course Catherine's also going to be making content for us, too." Catherine Bogart, Queen of the Tiny Mic. Oh boy.

"Do I get tiny mic privileges?" Dougie flashes one of his patented Hamilton Smiles, hoping to catch Wescott off guard.

"We'll think about it." No then. Aw. Would've been fun though.

"Do I get paid?"

The director shrugs. "Aren't you on a multi-million dollar contract?"

"To play hockey," Dougie specifies. "Not to deep-fry Bratt pics." From the look of confusion on Wescott's face, Dougie reminds himself once again that he's dealing with a senior citizen in the body of a mid-30s advertising executive. The guy probably needed an assistant to turn on his computer. For him, deep-frying is exclusively for overpriced tempura. "Meme things," he explains without explaining. "But - "

"Museum pass, any place in the state, any exhibit, we can figure it out for you."

That rumor even made it here? Well. Hey. It's something to do on the weekends, he figures. And he's pretty sure Wescott, fancy director placard and all, can't actually give him a salary for this. "Fine," Dougie agrees. He's used to being underpaid, after all. Might as well have fun with it. Besides, it's a good excuse to get out of any social events he doesn't particularly want to go to. (Is he justifying this to himself? Oh, definitely. But he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to do this.)

So yeah! The basic premise of the fic is Dougie's (mis)adventures running the social media for the Devils, his work with the social media people, his reactions to the Devils' season, and the like. I tried to keep it quite light (funny, even, perhaps? but I'm not really funny). Dougie, is, at his heart, a fun character, and I'd like to think it shows a little. It's not that realistic (he definitely doesn't text from the bench!) but it's fun.

In typical Devils fashion, they lose the first game.

In typical Devils fashion, they also lose the second game.

Dougie already has the next three games lined up. He doesn't expect to need more than one of them, if he's being honest with himself, but he's personalizing for each team, so there's that. Might come in handy later in the season, too.

By the end of the second period against Anaheim, they're 2-2. This is also the approximate time Dougie realizes he doesn't have access to the Devils' social media accounts.

Fuck.

And to make matters worse, Dougie starts the third period on the ice.

Shit.

And, if that weren't bad enough, he scores a goal 33 seconds into the period.

Damn it.

All this to mean that, in the next thirty or so minutes, Dougie Hamilton needs to hack into Instagram and TikTok and get ready to post this meme.

The second he's on the bench, he paws off his gloves, reaching for his phone under the front wall. Shaking it on, Dougie quickly navigates to Instagram and logs -

"Dougie, you're on," Lindy calls. The defenseman slides his phone back and jumps over the wall.

When he gets back to the bench a minute or so later, Dougie completes the process of logging off his Instagram account, then quickly punches in the Devils' media email address for the login. It shows him the right account, which is good -

"Dougie, you're on." Lindy again.

As he skates, Dougie contemplates the password. He can't disappear from the bench mid-period to go and find whoever was still working now and ask, so he's got to figure this out on his own.

The first password Dougie tries is njdevils. No dice. He goes on for another shift, then comes back and tries raisehell. Also nothing. If he keeps this up, he's going to freeze the account. Two shifts later, Mercer scores, and now the situation is dire, just when Dougie's brain is deep-fried worse than the Bratt pictures he sent the groupchat last week.

"Hey, Haula," he whispers as the center clambers over the wall to take his position on the faceoff. "If you were gonna make a password, what would it be?" In retrospect, Haula is not the person to ask about this, but Dougie will take what he can get, thank you very much.

"I dunno, man," Haula shrugs. "Password or something?" He raises an eyebrow at the weird question, skating off. Dougie nearly facepalms at the response, but fuck it, he might as well try. password.

Holy fucking shit.

Dougie slides his phone back onto the shelf to take another shift, biting his tongue to keep from cackling so loudly that even his own teammates would stay away from him. Holy fucking shit. Wescott and company clearly have never had a single lesson about cybersecurity.

Well, he's in now, and that's the most important.

However, as I continued writing, another story "thread" popped up, this one a lot more personal to me - the story of the Polish diaspora in New Jersey. A lot of my own personal stories are reflected in this part of the fic. It makes sense in the story (Dougie rents a townhouse in Garfield to avoid being recognized in Newport, Hoboken, and that area), but it's definitely a sharp left from the fic's initial focus. The two plot lines do intersect later on, but I never got to really writing that part of the story, sadly.

A few moments later, Ms. K turns off the stove and carries the soup pot into the dining room with two oven-mitted hands. Dougie pulls himself up to steady the situation however he can, helping direct the pot into its position. Ms. K takes the ladle she had hooked onto her arm, snatching Dougie's bowl before he can react and filling it with several ladlefuls of żurek. At the hockey player's mortified expression of a silent way too much, Ms. K shakes her head emphatically. "Big man, strong, big meal."

"Okay," Dougie agrees, cautious, as he settles back down in his chair and takes his spoon, stirring the soup. Chunks of sausage - kiełbasa - float up to the top before dipping back in. "Thank you," he mumbles, a little too quiet for even his own liking. He's just tired after the game. Yeah. Tired and a little humbled by the kind gesture.

"No worries," Ms. K replies, and from the way she rubs her hands together as she sits, Dougie knows she's one step away from launching into a story over dinner. "You know Martyna from the deli?"

"Yeah," Dougie nods. One of Ms. K's co-workers at Bratek, the business on the other side of town where she cooks for a living. Dougie's been there a few times, just to bask in the atmosphere and maybe score a few free candies. Martyna's the young one, couldn't be more than 24. Her husband Konrad is, from what Dougie has heard of him, a massive piece of shit. He suspects he's going to hear more of him in a moment.

"She came in yesterday all crying," Ms. K sighs, blowing on a spoonful of soup. It reminds Dougie to try his own - it's distinctively sour, but in a good way, enticing yet filling. (He suspects Ms. K makes him a lighter batch than she normally cooks, given the difference in color between this one and the one at the deli. No matter.) "Says that barely enough money for rent. Konrad drinks it all away. Co za kurwa debil."

Dougie doesn't need to speak a word of Polish to understand the meaning behind that acidic sentence, that Ms. K clearly isn't happy with her coworker's husband. "That bad?" he queries, making sure to leave it open for interpretation.

"He even doesn't have job," Ms. K rolls her eyes. "I told her, this man no good, he not love you. No. She loves him. Enough for her that she loves him." The older lady sighs. "Love doesn't pay rent. Or food. Or gas. He needs job." Dougie nods again in agreement, letting her continue; after a moment, she does. "Nobody want to hire him. Not construction, not restaurant, nobody. All what he does is drink and complain."

"Maybe he's got some sort of mental disorder?" The defenseman offers the idea. "Sits at home all day, does nothing, drinks - "

Ms. K barks out a laugh, cutting Dougie off. "His mental disorder" (here she butchers the pronunciation of the words) "is lazy. He doesn't go to school, doesn't work. Only watch game and drink. Lazy. Mother not raise him right." She shakes her head. "You give child everything, they get lazy. You make child work, they not get lazy."

"Aha," Dougie grants the point, deciding that a debate on the existence of depression against his matronly elderly neighbor who was currently feeding him wasn't exactly his plan for the rest of the day.

"No discipline in that house," Ms. K sighs. "All three Kubiaks lazy. One I understand, three is parents' fault." A pause as Ms. K lifts her spoon. "Martyna stupid, Konrad lazy. Perfect together."

They eat for a few minutes in silence, Dougie digesting both the soup and the gossip. "She's at least a good worker though." It's a calculated statement, because Ms. K very obviously wants to keep talking, but Dougie doesn't want to hear about Polish child-rearing strategies (which, from his very limited experience, began and ended at corporal punishment). So hopefully she bites on the redirect.

"Did I tell you about Barbara?" Hook, line, sinker.

"No," Dougie hums.

"She knows nothing!" Ms. K flushes red with annoyance. "She goes all day and looks how I cook. She can't even make salad. All you do is..." Her steam runs out as she searches for the word she needs. "Zetrzeć carrot, doesn't know how."

"Cut?"

"No, not cut." Ms. K mimes running a carrot over a grater. "So you get thin."

"Grate," Dougie supplies.

She nods quickly. "Yes, grate. Cannot grate carrot. Cuts herself. Cannot stir soup - not even make soup, just stir it. Burns herself. Or gets soup dirty."

He chuckles at that. "So she's not a good chef."

"No, but she is owner's son's wife," Ms. K sighs. "Cannot be at cash register, scans things twice. Cannot stack food, food falls and breaks. Cannot cook, chicken is raw and burnt. Both on same piece. Useless."

Dougie tilts his soup bowl to fill his spoon, unable to stop his eyes from looking at the cakes on display. The nutritionists don't need to know. "Can she bake?"

"She make pączki and pączki go boom." She says it so matter-of-factly that it's hysterical. "If she know how bake, she work at Piast."

Piast, the Polish store/restaurant hybrid that looks like a literal castle on the side of the road. Dougie hasn't ever been inside, Ms. K forbidding it (and once again, he's not going to argue with the woman who clearly knows her stuff). "If you ever need Polish food, come to me. Not Piast. Owner died, place is bad now. Too expensive."

That's another thing about Polish people - they measure everything in who died. Usually with when and how thrown into the mix. Honestly, it's fascinating. Ms. K puts on her Polish television shows and points out to Dougie who had a heart attack and who got into a car accident, recounting the details as if she were the coroner. She turns on the radio and everyone got cancer or was murdered by a French guy, five songs in a row, and then an Italian song comes on. Ms. K purses her lips for a minute, then says, "Did you know their daughter disappeared? Took too many drugs, jumped off a bridge. So young, too."

It's kind of morbid, Dougie figures.

Every Sunday, Ms. K goes to church and then to the cemetery, weather permitting. She takes candles with her in fancy glass containers, lights them and leaves them on her husband's grave. Dougie's seen the containers and heard the stories, how she counts the days until she sees him again. Dougie asks her, once, whether she wants to find another husband; she laughs sadly, "When Wojciech died, I saw it was either son or new man. I said better to work for son than for stranger. Son no longer here, but am old now. No point in looking for husband. I have husband already. Just not here anymore."

I think the main "issue" with this fic is that it's Super Fucking Long. There are so many plot lines in it and so much going on that it quickly became an overwhelming sort of project and I sputtered out on energy.

If I went back to rework it, I'd have to definitely consider whether all the parts are truly necessary or whether I just want to focus on Dougie as the social media admin and go from there. Additionally, I didn't know much about some characters before beginning to write, so they come across as fairly OOC, so I need to rework that.

Fun fact, though - I originally intended bless your waters, bless your doubts to be a capstone of a series. Each fic would represent one line of "Howl" and would be a short oneshot dealing with a specific Devil and some specific situation they were in. For example:

and all grown up and traveled so well - Mercer about heritage

do you still hear the sound of the thunder while you lie up by yourself? - Palat injury

And each one would offer a new perspective, roughly in chronological order, on the Devils and their own narratives. I still feel that the "braided" fics, as I call them, would be vitally important in presenting a complete picture, and I'd want to preserve them if I do retry this one.

However, it's a bit of a "dated" fic (22-23 is so long ago now), plus it'd end up being so incredibly long... I don't think I have it in me. Maybe someday.

Have one last snippet, here, and Experience Devils Hockey with me! [profuse sobbing]

It's seven-fifteen by the time Dawson shows up, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. Classic. Dougie can't help but chuckle as he opens the door for the young center. "Nice to see you," he smiles, a little fondly. Dawson reminds him a little too much of himself. He supposes it's only kind to pay it forward and take him under his wing.

"Yeah," Dawson grins back. "What's cooking?"

"Figure it out," Dougie challenges. The kid sniffs the air, contemplating his next words, and Dougie takes the opportunity to take the finished chicken out of the oven. "Before if gets cold," he calls across the room, balancing the dish in both gloved hands. Dawson scurries over to get a better look.

"I knew it had to be garlic," the Newfoundlander comments. He pulls out his chair and plops down unceremoniously. "Got anything to drink?"

Dougie bites his tongue to stop from rolling his eyes. "Because you want to be hungover the morning before the Caps."

"It'll help the L go down," Mercer offers. Damn, they really thought they had no chance, huh?

Right. This team never did have a chance. He's been here a year already but enough of that time was on injured reserve (and the rest trying to avoid anyone on his former teams) that it's still new to him, this - this culture of expecting loss. He sees it in the eyes of the old guard, how Sevo and Wood sigh when a goal is given up like it's the last breath they know how to take. Even the newer players feel it, see it, know it.

This was once a dynasty, Dougie understands, and now the castle is in ruins.

#stereanswers #sterechats :)

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serendertothesquad · 28 days ago

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Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Villain of the Year" Episode Followup, Part 2

It's like a subtle reminder telling everyone to vote or something! Hmmmmmmm oh yes I do wonderrrrrrr- below the break.

"villains only care about themselves"

they're voting for other villains

So tell me why they can't vote for themselves, then? Did they try that and it fell through so they gave up voting for themselves as a sacrifice?

I mean...if "Flawed Squad" can do it...

And this, folks, is what we call "having moxie". Clearly Athena saw that one King of Queens episode and it lives in her mind rent-free.

There is exactly one joke I can make here and it's an innuendo I'm not even uttering it but Osgood is FUCKING TEMPTING ME.

It would have been fine if the man elaborated, but hmmmm nooooooooo.

...He...he...hay? He makes hay? That makes people itch?

I don't know. I got nuffin'. I've looked at this damn uniform up and down five times and that's the best my brain-fogged mind has got. Either the man picked a dumbass name or Athena popped a weed gummy and thought the name "Mr. H" was hilarious somehow.

"Don't worry, Bob, we'll get you some cream."

*deep inhale* No. I'm not touching this. No. Not a chance in hell.

Did...did she just say "portholes and popcorn"?

The "portholes" part is relevant, but...fucking "popcorn"?

I don't know about you guys...but it seems a little out-of-character for Captain O to be giving up so easily. Seems like she might've stolen some ideas from Arctic Mr. O in that regard.

SEE???? YOU SEE???? THEY C A N VOTE FOR THEMSELVES SO WHY DON'T THEY?!?!?!?!?!

Oh my God, this is so stupidly convoluted that I have to wonder if this really is some jab at American politics and Athena just moved from America to Britain in recent years.

(I'd say British politics is a more accurate jab, but I don't know their state of politics nor do I know if it's as fucked up as America's.)

But...his mom's not part of the Villain Club, so why does she vote? If she were in the Villain Club it'd be 22 total votes because there are 22 members.

Again, way too convoluted and ass-fucking-backwards.

Okay, this transition with the bubbles and the streamers is cute. I like it.

He gave them bubble tea, sure, but will it send them to the astral plane like with Orla when she tried it?

Spoiler alert: it will not because Athena has never seen OddTube Season 2 in her life.

MMMMMDOYOUGEDDIT.

'CAUSE CAPTAIN O...SHE...SHE HAD A SAMMICH...AND THEY HAD BUBBLE TEA AND NOW THEY'RE FLO- WHY ARE YOU NOT LAUGHING. LAUGH GOD DAMN YOU.

And your credits for this episode. Turns out Osip's name really is spelled with one S.

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

Overall...raising the bar by a few inches was a mistake. It really should have been a few inches lower, not higher. Goopy Gus somehow being there as a mention -- and a very gratuitous one, mind you -- did not save this episode by a long shot. For an election episode, it was far too convoluted and I've watched election episodes of this franchise with simpler terms and conditions, like "Captain Fun".

Though really...given how Athena hasn't written any kids stuff before, I can't say I'm surprised at this point. Lack of kids content in the resume is pretty much a sign the episode's dead in the water before it's even watched, for me anyway.

Oy...well, anyway. Next up is "Planes, Trains and Oddmobiles". I don't know how much better this one will be, but I'll be bracing myself either way.

Seren out!

#seren's studies #odd squad #odd squad uk #odd squad pbs kids

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mintyjae · 1 year ago

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no like i can't let it go, i'm still so upset :( long rant about sungtaro/nct/sm ahead

i mean we always knew that sm is terrible at managing their groups but experiencing it in real time as a (relatively) new kpop fan is infuriating... i only got into kpop/nct in mid 2021 so i didn't experience the peak of 3rd gen but from what i hear exo was dominating back then, like especially watching the pre-covid mama clips it's kinda crazy! obviously they're still crazy popular now but if you look at the impact on the current kpop scene they're not really there anymore and i get that has to do with the members enlisting too but i've seen plenty of exols (and fans of any other sm group) talk about how sm will abandon older groups in favour of the shiny new thing. for exo it was nct but now it seems they're doing it to nct in favour of the new non nct boy group that sungtaro + the rookies are supposed to be a part of. i get that they're trying to keep up with current kpop trends and probably want to compete with all the other new bgs but i really feel like they're cutting the nct concept short for no reason. if nct isn't as big as they had hoped it's bc they're mismanaging them!! if they spaced them out correctly i really feel like they could have easily debuted the japanese nct unit plus another korean nct unit, since that's what they seem to be going for with the new one, and i really think they could hold their own within the current 4th gen/upcoming 5th gen climate. obviously i'm gonna be biased as an nctzen but it really doesn't take much thinking to see they're underutilising the fuck out of the nct concept and now they're punishing the members and the fans as a result...

and ig they're hoping to have a good chunk of nctzens follow sungtaro to the new group but it's really not fair to us or them. if they're going out of their way to separate the new group from nct so much doesn't it defeat the purpose to drag nctzens with them into the new group?? like i'll definitely support them bc i've grown attached to them now but it feels like it's gonna be infintely harder now to establish them as their own separate group with their own disdinct voice as they will always have nct's shadow looming over them now, so i feel like a lot of us will just see them as an unofficial nct unit regardless...

this whole thing is fucked but i think what's especially cruel is shotaro got into sm FOR nct and they made his dream come true only to let him waste away for a few years and then rip it away from him again? like that's fucked... also sungchan gets on so well with all of them, i always look forward to him and jungwoo interacting!! like he trained with so many of them, the rookies too, it just feels so cruel for no reason. but ig now we can only hope for the yearly sm town interactions... :(

another thing i've noticed is the fandom's unanimous reaction to this news being very negative. i feel like with the lucas situation the fandom kind of split in half but it seems everyone is unhappy with this. the only remotely positive reaction i've seen is ppl saying they're happy sungtaro will actually finally have a fixed group and will actually get to be proper idols. i really wonder what k- and j-fans reaction to this is but i can't imagine they're very happy either

considering that sm was actively making merch with sungtaro's likness for nct home, ccomaz and the sanrio collab up until recently this definitely feels like a rushed decision. or maybe not rushed but this didn't seem to be a part of their long term plans until very recently, like welcome to nct universe just happened!! ig most likely shohei's injury unexpectedly set their plans back and i'm guessing sungtaro and the rookies were given the choice of delaying their debut within nct or this. and obviously we can't know but if that is what they chose i can't fault them for it. as much as we like to make the unemployment jokes, i'm sure it hasn't been fun for them, like universe was the last nct album and that was in 2021! and sungchan didn't even appear in a music video for it!! considering maw and 90s love are 2 of nct's best performing songs ever, it seems stupid even just on a purely monetary level to not do anything with them. so as much as this sucks i am really happy for them that they'll get to have a proper group now.

i really wonder about the rest of nct too, like seeing yuta's reaction today i can't imagine they got much of a heads up about this or that they wanted this either. first off, i want to sit down with yuta and shit talk sm so bad asdfshjfsdjds like you can tell that man is fed up! and rightfully so!!! considering we're coming up to contract renewal season it makes me wonder who in nct will leave... i feel like i can't see anyone in dream leaving (for now) but in 127 yuta and taeil have been pretty vocal about their discontent. taeil not getting a solo when he's now at risk of getting shipped off to the military at any point feels disrespectful, ik he's spoken about being unhappy about not having anything to do. i was also watching some of the 2 baddies promotional stuff back and you can definitely tell he was not having it back then. he seemed so unhappy and disinterested and who can blame him when he gets a miniscule amount of screentime? considering they gave him so much more screentime in ay-yo i feel like he must've had a big talk with someone behind the scenes and good for him!! i just hope that this continues and isn’t just a temporary change to appease him. and i rly feel like yuta could probably write a book on the ways sm constantly mistreats him, so it wouldn't shock me if either of them were to leave at some point. winwin is another candidate imo, he's so distant and elusive lol like he's building a pretty solid career for himself in china but he keeps making appearances with wayv every now and again so i really can't tell. nct def seems to be his sidegig tho and not the other way around, so i also wouldn't be shocked if he eventually dips. sm is rly fumbling the bag, like how is the supposedly limitless group losing members at such a high rate... sigh

ALSO apparently the new nct japan unit will be formed through a survival show... yuck 😬 sm has always historically stayed away from that, so i wonder if the new management changes and sm 3.0 have anything to do with that. regardless, i won't watch it ESPECIALLY if there are minors involved. i thought they learned their lesson after all the nct dream shit when aespa debuted with all of them being 18 and over and the rookies too. i'm really hoping they're not gonna regress into old habits... also from what i’ve seen from any other survival show, it never feels very fun or fair to the participating trainees, like i never watched stray kids’ survival show bc my heart hurt for them. i also really don't think that a survival show fits into nct's concept like AT ALL, especially at this stage of their career with 3 established units that all came together without a survival show. i feel like if they really wanted to go down that path they should've made that the concept for the non nct bg, that way they would also feel distinctly different from nct, but ig not 🙄

ofc i'll support sungtaro wherever they go but i wonder if we can bully sm into putting them back like dreamzens did for dream's graduation system, like just make the new bg be another nct unit and literally everyone will be happier for it!! ig it will probably have to come from k-czennies since they never care what us i-fans have to say lol but if there is a boycott i'll do it!!

#i've also seen ppl be weird on tiktok #first of all i have seen too many edits making it look like sungtaro died ashgbdsjkbv but that's just funny #its dozen fans lumping lucas in with sungtaro #like 🤨#your man was KICKED OUT for good reason #dont act like they’re the same #anyways… this rant is way too long oops #but i just have so many thoughts abt it #sighhhhh #nct #edit: just remembered sungchan was in the beautiful mv so that was a lie lol but that must’ve been what barely 2 seconds of screentime? hm

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nebulousfishgills · 1 year ago

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writing asks!

5, 6, 9 [crimson, bright, or under], 25, 26, 48, 57, 63 [His Tenebris Moenibus], 72, 77

Thanks! Sorry, I would have answered this sooner, but I spent most of today doing training modules for work and my brain is friiiiied.

Anyways, let's see what we have here...

5 - How many WIPs do you have? What fandoms/pairings are they for?

All my current WIPs are under the Stranger Things and/or Twilight umbrella.

Necrosis: Diplopia's sequel, a more freeform fic based on the many (...many) wonderful fics I've read. The fic deals primarily with... I'll call it Emily's Involuntary Character Development by Phoenix Wright-Related Means. Posted chapters: 5/?

The Weirdo From St. Valentina's: I know this one was originally a one shot, but someone in the comments flattered me by saying it should be a longfic, and I have more ideas, go figure. So I have another chapter partially drafted and maybe a few more after that? Posted chapters: 1/? (Three or four maybe)

Stranger Things One-Shots: I have a few one-shots I have already written and a few I want to finish/write. As of now I have a total of I think 4 that I have yet to publish, three are done and one I need to finish.

Twilight One-Shots: There are fewer of these, in fact right now I only have one that's in the works, however given that my top priority is the Twilight longfic and I have some of those later chapters done for when I get to them, it evens out. There also miiiiiight be one in the future that doesn't involve Emily at all...

So I don't know how those totals work out. A lot, it's a lot of WIPs.

6 - What is the last line you wrote?

"Lead the way."

Context: Emily says this to a character that she's gonna take a walk with to a location after a very... we'll call it an introspective conversation. I can't say much for spoilers' sake, but this is one of those "later Necrosis chapters."

(I know I posted a one-shot called The Third Rule to celebrate Stranger Things 4's one year anniversary, but technically that was one of those one shots I wrote a while ago, so none of those lines were 'the most recent line.')

9 - Does [word chosen by asker] appear in a WIP?

Crimson - Surprisingly, no lol

Bright - She had just the prettiest, brightest hazel eyes, I could practically see every color imaginable in them.

(That counts, right?)

Under - He hasn't had a singer in 305 years, not since 1593. It's amusing how the humans are still under the impression that the poor man was killed in a bar fight. That's what Chelsea told me, at least.

Dang, those are from the same WIP lol, again, one of my Necrosis chapter drafts (although this one is gonna be on deck soon).

Also I should note the italics are indicating that this is a quote someone is reading. This is a scene of someone reading someone else's writing.

25 - What is your favorite part of the writing process?

Honestly, it depends on my mood. But in general I really like developing characters. Their traits, their relationships, all that fun stuff. It fits together like a nice puzzle and I just get to be creative. Writing aside but in a similar vein, I also like coming up with character concept sketches and making character playlists. Both of those things can be a massive help to the writing side of the equation as well.

26 - What is your least favorite part of the writing process?

...can I say the actual writing part? I mean, I don't hate it, sometimes the act of writing is a huge stress reliever, but the problem arises when I either a) have the motivation but not the time or b) the desire to write but the inability to actually execute the process for any number of reasons. I need to plan more, I don't wanna type, I'm tired and would just rather daydream about the fic... the list goes on lmao.

48 - Who is your favorite character to write for? Has this changed since you've started writing for that fandom?

This is an interesting question since I love writing for all the characters I write for. Some more than others, sure. I mean, obviously I love writing stories about Emily, else I wouldn't keep doing it. But like Emily, I'm very attached to both of her long term boyfriends and love getting to write for both of them. Although I thiiiiiink Henry takes the edge.

It really just comes down to how creative I feel like being on that day. When I'm in the mood to be more creative I like writing for the Twilight characters more since... there's very little canon material to work with, forcing me to fill in the gaps. Giving more depth to characters like Jane or Sulpicia is such a joy, even if it's born of annoyance.

57 - How conscious are you about adding symbolism or foreshadowing in your fics?

Incredibly. I try to make every single thing in my fics very intentional, down to using specific words in simple sentences or dialogue. For example, this excerpt from Diplopia:

If you know, you know, and you know this will be important later... and that it is not gonna be pretty. Foreshadowing is one of my favorite tropes because it gives a fic re-read value to go back and look for hints.

63 - What was the hardest part of writing His Tenebris Moenibus?

Many little things, but it all boils down to balance. Balancing Emily's shitty personality to still make her a somewhat likeable character that you want to keep engaging with. Balancing content and information in the show with keeping the story fresh (i.e. Henry telling Emily his backstory in a different way than he presents it in Episode 7 while still getting the same information across... admittedly in retrospect writing out his entire monologue when we eventually get to the massacre might have been unecessary, but I did it anyways cause I love and adore that scene, sue me). Balancing out how Emily interracts with people like Eddie so her presence in that part of the story doesn't seem forced or weird.

72 - What's your favorite writing compliment you've gotten?

I appreciate and adore every compliment I've ever gotten on my writing since they're all very special to me. Obviously the analysis comments you give me and I get stronger with every "good characterization" comment (I might be able to fight god soon). I even got compliments on Necrosis from someone whos fics I have not only read multiple times but have gone absolutely feral over... It's like publishing a short horror story and Stephen King telling you he felt creeped out reading it.

But I think the greatest compliments I've gotten are from people who've told me my writing changed their outlooks and minds on characters, Henry specifically. You've said this once or twice and I actually got @ohitshoneybee on the full blown Henry hype train... arguably initially because I put him through an emotional ringer with Diplopia and she felt bad for him, but still. This is a character I care about very much, more than I ever expected to, and it gives me a sense of pride that I can essentially make people somewhat see him the way I see him.

77 - Why do you enjoy writing fanfiction?

Oh, many reasons. Putting my own creative spin on my favorite fandoms, exploring ideas and adding extra dimensions to pre-existing lore... and making people have emotional breakdowns. Are you really a fanfic writer if at some point you haven't gone full Helmo?

I think the most recent example is the fact that it's allowed me to take my childhood nemesis franchise, Twilight, and give it my own three-dimensional makeover. I basically started with Mopey, Angry, and Creepy with their (remaining) wives, Druggie One and Druggie Two. I put some thought and work into it and now instead of two dimensional, one trick ponies, I have full characters I can mold and play with.

Stephenie Meyer, if you're ever reading this, call me and I can have an entire guidebook whipped up to give your characters a full revamp (no pun intended).

I take cash, checks, or Venmo.

#I always love ask games even if they take me a while to answer #i just love gushing about my hobbies #fishgills speaks #ask game #fanfic writing #writing ask game #fanfic ask game #fanfiction #my inbox is open

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thelordofgifs · 2 years ago

Text

Part 19! Everyone is very sad and angsty.

(Content warnings for: *deep breath* a panic attack, what is technically self-harm, intrusive thoughts and a suicide threat. Nothing is terribly explicit but this still isn't a fun one - take care of yourselves!)

Fingon is at Maedhros' side so quickly that he briefly wonders if he flew there.

The world narrows to Maedhros' gasping, shuddering breaths, the hand trembling on his sword.

Fingon grabs him by the shoulders and hauls him back, pulling him through the ranks of their people until they are within the siege-line once more.

Everyone can see them—

No time for worrying about that now.

In the relative shelter behind one of the field medical tents Maedhros crumples to his knees, beginning to hyperventilate. He still hasn't said a word.

Fingon removes his helmet for him, the better to let him breathe, and then takes away his sword for good measure.

He can't leave the battle. Not now.

"Stay here," he says as firmly as he can, although his heart is being torn in two, "I'll be back as soon as I can, Russo, just don't move—"

Maedhros, still taking huge, gulping breaths, says nothing. Fingon isn't sure he can even hear him.

Walking away from Maedhros is the hardest thing he has ever done – but he does it.

They are too hard-pressed, now, to hope for any small relief with the daylight; and the orcs, growing emboldened by their opponents' dwindling numbers, are more vicious than ever.

But after some hours Fingon and his unit are at least relieved by those who had been sent to rest, and he is free to step away from the field and catch his breath.

"My king," says one of Maedhros' people, "do you not think it best that we retreat? Can we really hold?"

"Your lord is the greatest general of the Noldor," Fingon tells her. "If he believes Himring will hold, it would be most unwise to assume it will not."

But despite his confident words a murmur of discontent runs through the little group.

Even Maedhros' most loyal soldiers are not happy to see he left the field without them.

Fingon stays with them for exactly the appropriate length of time before he makes a hasty excuse and hurries back to find Maedhros.

The good news: Maedhros is still exactly where Fingon left him.

The bad news: everything else.

He is sitting hunched over on the ground, nails digging into the dirt, shoulders shaking with such wrenching, violent sobs that Fingon fears he will damage his throat. When he raises his head Fingon sees that he has been crying for many hours.

"Russo," Fingon says, hating the world, hating himself for leaving Maedhros like this. He kneels to put his arms around Maedhros.

Maedhros does not lean into his embrace. His eyes – his eyes should never look like that again. "I killed him," he chokes out at last. "I killed him."

"Russo, he's still alive," Fingon says helplessly.

Maedhros shakes his head, tears still streaming down his face. "He's dying," he says. "I thought – I thought he was – I killed him."

Now that he has remembered he cannot forget. Maglor stumbling on his bad leg – Maglor's wide eyes, filled with concern, trained on Maedhros' face – Maglor's hand cold against his cheek—

He lifts his own hand to his cheek, attempting to scrape away the terrible, ghostly sensation of his brother's fingers, until Fingon makes an alarmed noise and seizes it. "Russo, stop! It isn't your fault. You didn't know what you were doing."

"I killed him," says Maedhros. "It doesn't matter how – I did it – it was still me, I killed him. I killed him."

In more than four hundred years Fingon has never once seen him so wretched. "Beloved," he says, unsure what to do but hold Maedhros as he weeps.

But after a moment Maedhros pulls out of his grasp, sitting back on his heels. "You shouldn't," he says. "You shouldn't—" A horrible sight, Maedhros the fair-spoken struggling for every word, ugly as few things about him ever are.

Eventually he gives up and settles on "I killed him," again.

Fingon takes Maedhros' hand and draws him to his feet, and Maedhros allows himself to be led up the hill to the castle.

"Russo," says Fingon, when they are safely within the gates once more, "should you like to see him? It will reassure you, to see him"—not well, he can't say well—"alive."

"No. No!" Maedhros wrenches his hand free and stares at Fingon, wild-eyed. "I – I killed him – I'd do it again—" He rakes his nails down his cheek again.

"Stop doing that," Fingon says firmly, taking hold of Maedhros' wrist.

Maedhros spent months learning how to wield a weapon with this hand; he could disarm his brothers on the training-ground before he had ever even written a letter left-handed. And for what purpose?

These fingers curled around the hidden knife-hilt even as Maglor stood, trembling from exertion, before him. With a sharp flick of this unmaimed wrist he drove it into his brother's body.

"Cut it off," he gasps now, "cut it off—"

But the corruption lives in him. It cannot be so easily excised.

He is weeping yet – Maedhros, who has practiced restraint since he was a child in Tirion, who shows his emotions so rarely that the ignorant often accuse him of having none.

Fingon’s heart is breaking.

“Beloved,” he says, “please, please try to calm yourself. Maglor is still alive. And it wasn’t your fault – you didn’t realise. If you come and talk to him—”

“Finno,” says Maedhros, sounding suddenly very rational, although there are still tears streaming down his face, “I cannot go near him. I – I killed him.” He shudders and pulls away from Fingon’s hold again. “I shouldn’t be near you either—”

At that Fingon takes Maedhros’ face in his hands and kisses him fiercely, the way he kissed Maedhros in blood-soaked Alqualondë and again on the Eagle’s back and again on the triumphant field after the Dagor Aglareb, a kiss that is a promise and a plea and a show of force all wrapped up together. “Do you think,” he says, very low, “I could not take you?”

Maedhros gives a sob.

"Come," Fingon says, more gently. "You have had a shock. You need to rest."

"No – no," Maedhros says, digging his heels in when Fingon tugs at his arm. "You cannot leave me alone—" But Fingon can't be expected to abandon the battle either. "Take me to the dungeons," he decides, "and chain me up – please, Finno, I know not what I will do—"

Fingon stares at him. "I'm not going to do that!"

Maedhros' clear eyes are shining with tears. "Chain me up," he says, "or I will throw myself from the battlements instead. Do you doubt how serious I am?"

Fingon knows better than to ever doubt Maedhros' threats.

"All right," he says miserably, "but not in the dungeons." Keeping hold of Maedhros' hand, he fetches a shackle and a length of chain before taking Maedhros up to his own chambers.

Maedhros thinks of the first time he held Maglor, when his baby brother was not yet an hour old. He remembers taking the infant by his little foot and dashing his head against the wall so that blood and brains spattered the stone floor.

No – that never happened. He is remembering the night of his grandfather's murder, when they found his ruined body before the door to the vaults at Formenos, except now in his mind's eye when they turn the corpse over it is Maglor's bloodless face that stares back at him unseeing.

They are standing on the beach at Losgar with the smell of smoke and burnt flesh in the air, and his father's face has gone tight with dismay, and Maedhros realises that Maglor is missing from his place at his side—

The last charred remnants of the Fëanorian cavalry are streaming in through Himring's gates, and Maglor in the rear, guarding the long retreat from the devastated Gap, slides at last from his mount into Maedhros' waiting arms, but his face is grey and crumbling, and he disintegrates to ash in Maedhros' fingers.

North of the Girdle of Melian, Carcharoth does his bloody work and rampages off, and Maedhros kneels in the dirt clutching Maglor's unconscious body to him, shouting his name, but there is blood on his lips and blood running down his savaged leg and blood pouring from his shoulder where his arm once was – no, that is how Celegorm died, but it is Maglor's white empty face that he sees now—

All of this and none of it and Maglor's weight against his arm and Maglor's tiny pained exhalation and Maglor's cold hand on his cheek—

"Ankle," Fingon asks, "or wrist?" But Maedhros has once more raised his hand to his cheek and raked his nails down it, deep enough to leave four bleeding welts on his pale freckled skin.

"Russo," Fingon says unhappily, and he fits the shackle to Maedhros' wrist, fastening the other end of the chain to the bedpost.

Maedhros struggles a little as he does so, mindlessly; his eyes are very far away.

He has stopped crying at last, but this is worse, somehow.

"Russo," Fingon says again. He feels like a monster.

Maedhros meets his eyes and says, dully, "Better you had slain me on Thangorodrim."

"That is not true," Fingon says immediately, "and I will not hear it."

Maedhros shrugs and falls silent again.

"Will you have something to help you sleep?" Fingon asks him. There are all sorts of drugs kept in Maedhros' chambers – drugs to help with pain, drugs to stop the nightmares – although he can rarely be cajoled into taking them. "Some milk of poppy, perhaps?"

"Make it a triple dose," says Maedhros. "No, four times."

More than enough to kill an elf. "I think not," says Fingon.

Maedhros drinks the tincture he prepares anyway, draining every last drop as if hoping that will push him over the edge.

Fingon gathers him shivering into his arms. "Sleep," he says softly, "it will be better when you wake."

Maedhros laughs bitterly. "I killed him," he says. "Even if – if he yet lives—"

"He does," says Fingon.

"Even then," Maedhros continues, undeterred, "I can never again – oh, and he will be—" His breathing is growing slower, but the edge of hysteria has not left his voice. He tugs at his chain and then says, slurring his words, "Finno, do you really think you set me free?"

Before Fingon can blink away his tears and think of a response to that, Maedhros is asleep, worn out with weeping.

The chain, of Celebrimbor's make, is a clever steel thing that lengthens and contracts at the will of the user, and yet will never wrap around the throat of the one it binds.

All the same, Fingon spends some time clearing the chamber of potential hazards before he deems it safe to leave Maedhros alone.

And leave him he must, although he would dearly like to curl up to sleep with Maedhros in his arms instead.

He only has a few hours of rest before he must return to the field. And he needs to adjust the battle plan now that Maedhros is in no fit state to command.

First he does something he rather hoped he would never have to do again, and goes to find Curufin.

Meanwhile several months later because of time dilation stuff in Mandos:

It is now Celegorm following Finrod around.

"I don't understand," he says. "Why haven't you left?"

"Why, Tyelko," says Finrod. "I do believe you'd miss me."

The dead can't lie. Celegorm stays silent instead.

"Can you imagine how it felt," Finrod says absently, "to hear my faithful Ten torn to pieces in the dark, and know that there was nothing I could do for them – that it was their very loyalty to me that killed them one by one?"

"Ingoldo," Celegorm says, uneasily.

"You sent them there," Finrod says. "Their deaths are on your hands just as much as mine are."

Celegorm says nothing.

"Does that mean anything to you?" Finrod asks him. "Or was it only your cousin's death that moved you? Why did you die, anyway?"

Celegorm is startled. "I wasn't planning on it," he says.

"Coz," says Finrod, "take it from me: you don't fight a werewolf with your hands and teeth expecting to win."

"Well, then, I could ask you the same," Celegorm says harshly. "Why did you do it? They say Sauron wanted to keep you for the last."

"Beren," Finrod says simply. "Are you going to answer my question? Why did you jump into the fight?"

Celegorm is quiet for long enough that Finrod thinks he has been ignored. "Huan," he says at last.

"So I thought," says Finrod. "I am not sure it is enough, you know. To love only what is yours."

"Huan is not mine anymore," says Celegorm; "did you not hear how he turned away from me?"

"But he forgave you, did he not?" Finrod muses. "Is that enough?"

"Enough for what?" Celegorm demands. "You ever talk in circles."

"My apologies, cousin! I forget you have not the fondness for wordcraft that Curvo does."

Celegorm goes all tense and wary at that name, Finrod notes with satisfaction.

Instead of poking the wound he says, "My Ten died in terrible agony, knowing I their King had failed them. But they were no less brave than I, were they?"

"I suppose not," says Celegorm.

"And you, too," says Finrod, "leapt into a fight you could not win for the sake of one you loved."

"I hope you aren't trying to draw some sort of parallel here," Celegorm says scornfully. "I have told you already I do not want your pity."

"The thing about pity," says Finrod, "is that you don't get to choose whether or not it is offered to you – only whether or not you will accept it."

"Well, I don't," Celegorm says brusquely. "I killed at Alqualondë, Ingoldo. I usurped your kingdom from you. Dying did not erase that." He thinks of Huan telling him, You only had to ask. He thinks of Maedhros' white horrified face, the last thing he ever saw.

"And so you claim you are past pity?" Finrod asks. "Past redemption, too?"

"I'd say so, yes," says Celegorm, putting on the patronising tone of one speaking to a very dull child.

"I cannot say I forgive you," Finrod says slowly. "Not yet. But, Tyelko – I don't think anyone is past redemption."

Celegorm snorts.

"You asked me why I haven't left," says Finrod. "Well, I say that I shall not: not until you can walk out into the sunshine at my side."

On his throne, Mandos puts his head in his hands. Noldor.

Back in Himring, Maglor is startled out of an uneasy doze when Fingon and Curufin come into his room.

Not a combination he was expecting tbh.

"What's going on?" he asks. "Where's Nelyo?"

"He isn't coming," says Fingon.

Maglor sits up so quickly that he yelps in pain, nearly tears open his stab wound, and has to be held steady by Curufin while Fingon fetches him some water. "He isn't—" he says, as soon as he can breathe again.

"No, he's not hurt," Fingon says remorsefully. He explains what happened.

Maglor grows, if possible, paler.

"Anyway, you have to leave," Fingon says. "Curufin will take you."

"What?" Maglor stares at him. "No. What are you – no. I have to stay with Nelyo – and anyway I can't travel—"

"Your healers say you can," Curufin says quietly, "if we go very slowly, and take regular rests."

Maglor turns a withering glare on him. "This is all your stupid idea, isn't it?" he says. "Well, forget it. I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, you are," says Fingon. "I command it. As your King."

"I am not a package!" Maglor says angrily. "I don't wish to be lugged from realm to realm solely because I'm the only one who can hold a damn Silmaril—"

Curufin draws in a breath at this, but Maglor ignores him.

"Makalaurë," Fingon says, "I have your brother chained up in his chambers because he's afraid of what he might do to you if he's free. You have to leave, for his sake."

Obviously this is the best way to convince Maglor into anything. He clenches his jaw and then says, "Where would we even go?"

"Belegost," says Curufin, who has thought this through. "The Dwarves will give us shelter."

Fingon says, "Once you're there, I imagine we wouldn't see you for a while. I don't know how long Himring will hold, but there will be work to be done in managing the retreat too. And I will have to return to Barad Eithel at some point." He gives Maglor an Extremely Significant Look. "You'd be safe in Belegost – both of you."

Maglor understands immediately, and sighs. "Very well."

"What are you two talking about?" Curufin demands.

In unison, Fingon and Maglor say, "Never mind."

"You should leave tonight," Fingon says, changing the subject. "Before they cut us off completely."

Maglor's mouth twists unhappily.

If he dies on the road, he reasons to himself, Fingon will have to honour his word.

The prospect still doesn't sound appealing.

"Mightn't I see him – before we go?" he asks.

Fingon's gaze is compassionate. "I don't think that wise," he says. Then he sighs. "I had better get back to the siege-line."

When he is gone Maglor closes his eyes. Curufin rather suspects his lashes are damp.

"Káno—" he says.

"You got what you wanted," Maglor says. "The Silmaril will not remain at Himring. Please go away now."

Curufin goes.

By nightfall there is still a small gap in the encircling horde of orcs. They are leaving just in time.

"There you go," says Fingon, lifting Maglor up onto the horse in front of Curufin. Maglor, who is shivering in the chill evening air, doesn't respond.

Fingon bites his lip and tells Curufin, "Ride slowly. Don't jostle him."

"Thanks, I never would have guessed," says Curufin, who is constitutionally incapable of not being sarcastic at times.

Fingon rewards him with a look of deep dislike and then says, "Wait here."

"All right, Káno?" Curufin asks, while they wait for him to return.

Maglor's eyes are wide and distant. "Why," he says, through chattering teeth, "do we always have to leave each other?"

"I am sorry," Curufin says, although the last ten times he said it weren't enough.

Nothing will ever be enough.

"I know you are," says Maglor, sounding weary.

Fingon reappears before long, leading Maedhros by the elbow.

Maedhros is pale and unsteady on his feet. The deep scratch-marks on his cheek stand out livid red in the evening half-light.

"Nelyo," Maglor says tremulously. He shifts the Silmaril's iron box to his left hand and reaches out the right to Maedhros.

Maedhros steps forward on instinct before he remembers. He cannot touch Maglor now. He isn't safe.

He stops short just out of arm's reach.

Maglor draws a shaky breath. "Ask me to stay and I'll stay."

Maedhros looks at him then, trying to commit to memory his pale delicate features and sad eyes and melodious voice, the brother he has loved for as long as he has known what love is, the brother he has murdered. "I cannot do that," he says, and looks away.

He does not even glance at Curufin.

"You had better leave," says Fingon, slipping his warm hand into Maedhros'. "Ride safely."

Maedhros shuts his eyes, and keeps them closed until the sound of hooves has faded into the distance.

(to be continued)

the fairest stars, continued

The "Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils" AU that has spiralled completely out of my control: time for a new post again! Parts 1-9 are here and Parts 10-15 here. Also now slowly being uploaded to AO3 here, though you still want tumblr for the latest version.

To recap:

Maedhros and Maglor are in Himring.

Maedhros has (somewhat, a bit, with caveats) recovered from his very bad unreality attack, and is now attempting to defend Himring from an army of orcs. Unfortunately 90% of his people aren't there.

Maglor has very much not recovered from being stabbed by Maedhros, and is not really in a great situation.

Fingon is busy trying to stop Curufin's war with Doriath. He's kind of managing to talk Thingol down from attacking Himring's assembled army.

Although his bright idea for accomplishing this was offering to execute Curufin.

Maedhros holds one Silmaril in Himring, Thingol has kept one in Menegroth, and the last one is still in Angband.

Dead characters who are nonetheless still in the story: Lúthien, Beren, Finrod, Celegorm.

When Maedhros' mother named him well-made, she was not picturing his prowess on a battlefield: but Maedhros was forged anew in the crucible of Angband, or perhaps more gently in his long months of healing by Mithrim's shores, and this is what he is good for, now.

And he is very good at war.

Under his command the defence of Himring rallies. Maedhros sets the few archers he has to rain down arrows on the arrows on the attacking orcs, and takes a small party out on horseback to drive them further back, and the fortress gains a little breathing space.

But there is only so much he can do with so few people – and people, at that, who are so strangely slow to respond to his command.

Not that they will disobey him openly, but he is far too aware of their suspicious eyes on his back, the wave of mutters that breaks every time he issues an order.

"And the way they look at me – as if I'm, as if I'm one of the Enemy's thralls – do you think—?"

"Nelyo," Maglor says instantly, "you are not a thrall."

Maedhros attempts to stop his frenetic pacing up and down Maglor's room. "Then why," he says. There is so much noise in his head. He cannot seem to finish the sentence.

"They're Curvo's people," says Maglor, and there is something hard and unfamiliar in his voice as he speaks their brother's name. "Who can say what poison he's fed them?"

That was the wrong thing to say. Maedhros blanches for a moment, draws in a sharp breath, and then says, "Curvo told me – he told me—"

"I know," Maglor says, reaching out a hand. "I know, and he lied. Come here."

Maedhros clutches at his hand. Maglor can feel his frantic, fluttering pulse beneath his fingers.

Maedhros can feel Maglor's, faint and irregular.

He tries to steady his breathing. Tries not to sort through the jumble of memories pressing against his skull (they're dead, they're both dead) and focuses on the present.

Maglor is here, alive, alive – although his pallor has worsened every time Maedhros can snatch a moment from the siege to visit him, and his grip on Maedhros' Silmaril is white-knuckled, and some nameless fear touches Maedhros as he looks at him.

"Should I send you away, dearest?" he asks.

Maglor's eyes widen. "What?"

"It isn't safe here," Maedhros explains, although he has little heart for his suggestion in the face of Maglor's obvious dismay. "If Himring does fall – I don't wish to put you through a hard retreat."

"Don't make me leave you," Maglor begs, his voice teetering on the edge of real distress. "I want – I want to stay here, and—"

"All right," Maedhros soothes. "All right. You can stay as long as I hold."

"You'll hold, Nelyo," Maglor says. "You always do."

In the face of this unwavering confidence Maedhros manages to summon a shaky smile.

When he is gone – and the sustaining warmth of the Silmaril with him – Maglor reviews his objectives, which are threefold.

One: stay alive. Not going very well tbh. He has not recovered from the blood loss. And more than that the world feels grey and cold to his eyes – he who has always loved sunrises – and he cannot stop remembering: the splintered haunted look in Maedhros' eyes, the way, before Maglor sang him to sleep, he was reaching for the knife to try again.

Two: make sure Himring doesn't fall. He cannot quite believe it will, while Maedhros is in command, but the news about the recalcitrance of the few soldiers they have is concerning. He should have realised that rumour would spread through the castle after Maedhros was found in a pool of Maglor's blood, should have blackmailed Curufin's lieutenant into keeping her mouth shut about it – but too late now. Hopefully Maedhros can rally them.

Three: keep Maedhros generally sane, and specifically unaware that he stabbed Maglor. Also not going too well. Maedhros is growing stressed and paranoid. He's noticed that Maglor is healing very slowly (or not at all, to be more accurate). And – as today's incident shows – he will remember, sooner or later.

A dire situation all round, Maglor concludes, and he is not sure how much longer he will have the energy to attempt to handle it.

Where's Fingon when you need him?

Exactly where he should be, actually!

Fingon is mostly succeeding in his objectives.

The Sindar have stood down.

(Thingol agreed to his terms. That’s what matters, right? Not the vague flash of disgust in his eyes.)

“Are we going back to Himring?” Curufin wants to know. “They’re in danger.”

I have to kill you, Fingon thinks, and says aloud, “Yes, we are. But if you’re lying to me again, Curufin…”

He lets the threat trail off.

Anyway. More pressing concerns for now.

He sets a hard pace back through Himlad, reasoning that even if Curufin is lying there won’t be any harm done in getting back to Himring quicker.

Curufin has been trying to make contact with Maglor again, but his brother’s mind is closed – worrying.

All he gathered from Maglor’s brief use of ósanwë was the scent of blood and panic, the sound of orc-horns in the distance and a terrible pain in his side.

Has Maglor been injured in battle? Surely not; his leg can’t be mended enough for him to fight yet. But then what’s wrong with him?

Curufin definitely isn’t going to try touching Maedhros’ mind, considering the state Maedhros was in when he left Himring.

This is such a mess. And it’s all his fault. And Celegorm is still dead.

Be better, Fingon told Curufin – but now he won’t even look at Curufin, and Curufin’s hand is still burned and he doesn’t think it will ever heal.

Does he even want it to?

Back at Himring, Maedhros watches as the orcs press closer. If they manage to surround the great hill completely—

[look I know nothing about military stuff. in lieu of any actual manoeuvres or strategies we are going to assume that the Bad Thing that needs to be prevented is the fortress being encircled. got it? cool.]

“Harass them from both flanks,” he orders. “Keep them contained, don’t let them spread out.”

His paltry force obeys, but with plenty of murmuring.

The patrols, Maedhros catches, and His own brother.

He doesn’t know what they mean. He doesn’t know how much longer he can possibly hold. He doesn’t know where Fingon is, or whether he’s succeeded at preventing a war with Doriath, or why Maglor isn’t getting better.

When there is nothing left but the clamour in his head and his racing pulse, there is still war, at least: still the swift brutal swing of his sword though orc-neck after orc-neck, the splatter of black blood against his breastplate and the deadly dance of the battle-field.

(Still the gentle light of the Silmaril in his pocket. Still Maglor, breathing. But those are harder to hold on to.)

Himring will not fall. Himring must not fall.

As the weary battle for the fortress continues, its chronicle is woven by steady, skilful hands in the House of Vairë.

Míriel Therindë’s grandson has little difficulty finding her tapestries in the Halls of Mandos.

He is staring at them in transfixed horror when he feels a presence behind him.

“Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I imagine,” says Finrod, coming to sit beside him (metaphorically. since spirits can’t really sit. you know the drill). “Looking at the tapestries.”

Celegorm snorts impatiently. In life he had a tendency, when frustrated, to slip into the language and mannerisms of whatever bird or beast he felt most appropriate to the situation – elves are simply too stupid to talk to being the clear implication.

Finrod is absurdly pleased to find out this is still the case.

Or maybe it isn’t absurd, he tells himself, maybe it’s natural to want to believe that this is still the cousin he grew up with, that a person can betray you and turn your kingdom against you and still have some parts worth saving.

“I meant,” Celegorm is saying derisively, “what are you doing in these Halls? I thought your dear cousin won you a special boon.”

“Impressive you can still speak of her, after what you did,” observes Finrod. “But yes, Mandos did tell me I was to be re-embodied. First of all the Exiles, you know.”

“And?” Celegorm presses, after he is silent for a time.

Finrod smiles at him. “I told him thanks, but no thanks,” he says.

Celegorm splutters for a bit. “What?” he manages at last. “Ingoldo, have you lost your mind? How – why – is this all out of some misguided form of pity? Or are you just flinging it in my face that you can choose to leave and I can’t?”

“Lúthien reminded me,” Finrod says seriously, “that we always have a choice.”

Back in Himring, Maedhros is being pressed hard.

They are so badly outnumbered, and the orcs keep coming and coming, a never-ending river.

If Himring falls, Maglor dies – for there is no chance of his surviving a hurried retreat, Maedhros can see that even without fully understanding what ails his brother, and he has refused to be sent away in advance.

Himring can’t fall, Maedhros tells himself.

(To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well – how those words echoed in his ears four hundred years ago, as he watched his high stone fortress built. He realises, now, that he always expected Himring to fall.)

The orcs have pushed them back to the south of the hill, almost closing off the circle, cutting off their last path of retreat.

Will he burn with the house, then – like Amrod, like his father? The prospect would not be so awful were it not for Maglor.

Nothing lasts forever; Maedhros understands that as few other elves do, and has done since Angband.

But Maglor – Maglor has to live forever – Maglor is dying—

To the south-west sounds a clear silver horn, the horn of Fingolfin.

(to be continued)

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infxnite · 3 years ago

Note

ew it's satoru

"Ew it's...wait, who are you again? I swear I've seen you somewhere before...at least, I think you look familiar."

#honestly haven't even thought about where my Gojo really fits in the timeline XD considering Mahito and him really don't meet for long #I'll just say for now he hasn't had the wonderful 'fun times' in the train station yet #might make it canon divergent for that part later on #patchworkcurse #ANYWHO! HEYYO! Thanks for followin' back and sending somethin' my way!

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green-lanterns-c0ck · 3 years ago

Text

Got tagged by @wajjs for a WIP meme!

Four Corpsmen, Post-Omega Men reunion, promptfill

Kyle feels dazed when he lands on Earth. He's not entirely sure how he ended up back here, can't remember flying or teleporting back, and isn't sure why he's here anyways.

He's been missing for a year and hasn't paid rent for longer - what's he gonna do, break into his old appartment and steal whoever's-living-in-there-now's couch?

He's pretty sure he didn't even land anywhere near New York.

Kyle just... His throat hurts and he just wants to go home.

A shout that sounds like his name makes him flinch and look up, barely in time to register the red blur hurtling towards him before it hits him like a freight train, or an affectionate and excited dog.

"Kyle", Guy repeats, hugging him tightly, and Kyle feels a tension he didn't even register anymore start to flow out of him. "We thought you were dead."

Injustice/Main Timeline Crossover, Guy travels to the Injustice Universe during Injustice 2

Guy flies towards them, creating a bubble around them, because - Superman can't breathe in space. Well, no one can, but Superman can't survive in space, so - whatever. Guy puts both of them in a bublle to save them, because he's the best. Aaand - that's not Superman, just some kid dressed up as him, along with a blonde girl in a red costume that kind of reminds him of Wonder Woman's.

"Thanks", the girl says, coughing, "I didn't know any of you had followed us here, but I'm - Guy?"

"What?" the boy says, jerking around as the girl stares at Guy with wide, shocked eyes. "Are - are we dead?"

"What?" Guy says, "Why the hell would you be dead - do I look like an angel - and how do you know my name, anyways -"

"You're dead", the girl says, sounding faint.

"What?!" Guy says, flying closer and stepping into the bubble with them, frowning angrily. "Is this supposed to be some kind of joke - oomph -"

The boy hugs him closer, shoulders shaking like he's about to cry. Guy is sure he has never met either of them, but they both look really rough, now that he gets a closer look - beaten up and bone tired.

SuperGuy, Slowburn:

Clark would like to take back very bad thought he's ever had about the DMV. It has nothing on the alien burocracy behind this.

"Why can't we just fight them", Gardner whines, making Clark frown.

"Because they have a giant army and are willing to use it", Maxima snaps, "As I already told you!"

"Yeah, well -" Gardner says, voice a bit quieter than usual, before he rallies. "We've beaten armies before!"

"We're not starting a war just because you got annoyed", Clark says, no matter how satisfying it would feel.

"Just because you're a whimp -"

Thankfully, the com center ringing interrupts that riveting argument.

AlanBruce, Businesspartners to Lovers

Bruce idly props his chin up on a hand and wonders if Alan's doing this on purpose.

He has never been this uninterested in the business aspect of a meeting, and he's convinced he made himself clear.

Did he?

No, no he definitively did.

So, why is Alan still doing his best impression of a hungover motivational speaker?

Is he trying to make fun of him? But if that was it, why would he be looking so stressed over it?

I'll tag. uh. @guy-gardners-shapely-ass @porcelainbluejay and @dagger-and-pen

Anyone else who wants to do this feel free to say I tagged you and share your wips!

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barcaavengers · 4 years ago

Text

Weakness || Bucky Barnes Imagine || Pt. 1

Note: I just had to jump in the Bucky Barnes train after watching TFATWS and with Sebastian looking like that it gave me much needed muse to get back into writing. So Here it is! I feel like this is fast paced but I'm already working on the second part. Let's see how this goes. This goes from Episode 3 and transitions to Episode 4 at the end so consider some spoilers? As always, let me know your thoughts and I'm open to ideas!

Disclaimer: Gif not mine.

The idea of going to see Zemo to get any leads wasn't something you were particularly fond of when Bucky decided to go in there by himself. Yes, you trusted the soldier, but it was Zemo who you didn't trust. He was responsible for the break up of the Avengers. If it wouldn't have been for those events you would have all been together to defeat Thanos.

Your combat skills were what gave you the spot in the Avengers. You didn't have a serum, or superpowers, no tech to give you advantage, you were just really good with guns, strategies and tactics, learned to think outside the box.

You know everything is about to go to hell when Bucky takes you and Sam to a warehouse filled with cars and starts talking about breaking Zemo out of jail.

"Do you remember what that man did to all of us? To you? To T'Chaka?" You ask between Bucky and Sam who were looking at each other, that was until the squeak of the warehouse house doors interrupted. The three of you turn to look as a shadow got closer until…

"What the hell?! You said it was hypothetical! What is he doing out, Barnes!?" You snarl and take two quick steps towards Zemo.

"We need him, Y/N!" Bucky blocks your path.

"You are going back to prison!" Sam shouts, Bucky putting his hand on Sam's chest.

"If I may…"

"No!" The three of you shout, looking at Zemo before turning to each other.

"It's the only way! We can't do this alone!" Bucky states. "When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you two backed him. You broke the law and stuck your neck out for me… I'm asking you to do it again."

"This is different! It was to protect you from him but now you are asking us to work with his ass after everything?" You question. You would do it in a heart beat because he was asking for it, but the thought of being crossed by someone like Zemo was what had you on edge.

Sam only sighed and you knew, yet again, he would go through with Bucky's plan. "Okay. If we do this, you won't make a move without our permission…" Sam says and your eyes close as you let out a huff.

You are all walking down the bridge once you get escorted to the city of Madripoor, Low Town specifically. "You need to stay in character, no matter what happens" Zemo says.

"The assistant, shouldn't be that hard" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"Anyone would love such role, Y/N. I would prefer if your dislike didn't show when we get there" he says. "It is the only way to explain why we brought a lady along to such dangerous business."

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, but thanks for your concern. That's sweet coming from someone like you" you say and you can spot Zemo smiling from your spot behind him.

"You okay?" Bucky asks once he falls behind you, looking at the surroundings and taking everything in.

"I'm not thrilled about this, but I guess we have no choice" you say as you look around, then your eyes fall on his frame. "What about you?"

"I don't know anymore…" he says before you all get inside the club.

Everyone fell silent when Bucky walked in, watching him, wondering if it really was the Winter Soldier. You have never been in the same space with Bucky in public, so the whispers and the looks had you feeling a kind of way, almost defensive, but you had to keep your role and give smiles to strangers while you walked with Zemo with your arms linked. You look around the place, leaning against the counter, hiding back a smirk as Sam drinks whatever the hell they just put in on his 'usual' drink.

"Zemo might not be welcomed here, but his assistant can stay as long as she wants" a man says into your ear and you are quick to move away.

"Excuse me?" You eye the man on your side.

"What's your name pretty face? I can get you a better job than being an assistant" the man reaches to push your hair away from your face, letting his hand linger on your shoulder and your body tenses. Sam meets your eyes and slowly shakes his head, knowing you were about to break character and beat the hell out of this man. Zemo noticed, but kept a neutral expression.

"If he doesn't take his hand off you…" You hear Bucky murmur under his breath. You gesture with your hand at him carefully to not give anything up, just raising two fingers towards him.

"Who says I want a better job?" You smirk and reach for your drink, sipping on it on one go.

Zemo turns to look at Bucky, and you have heard the words Winter Soldier in Romanian enough times to know them, so when Zemo speaks them and Bucky nods, your heart stops. He is swift in his moves and in a blur he is gripping and twisting the hand of the man that was bothering you. He looks back at you as he shoves the man away, your eyes meet for a moment before it all starts. Men from left and right start throwing themselves to him, like if they stood a chance against the Winter Soldier. Seeing him like this sent chills down your spine. Quick, agile, ruthless. His moves were so calculated, so life ending. The Winter Soldier might be gone but his skills and moves were there alright, you only hoped it was just that.

"It didn't take much for him to fall back into form" Zemo says on your side almost as if he read your thoughts.

"Make it stop, Zemo or I swear I'll jump in the fight…" you snarl.

"Stay in character or the whole place will be upon us" Zemo says and you let out a huff. "Your soldier will be fine. It's all part of the show…"

"He is not my soldier…" your eyes couldn't get away from Bucky, who now had a man pinned on the table and that's when you hear the clicking of a gun.

Things take a bad turn real quick. Sam got caught in his character thanks to a phone call. Selby got killed and now there was a bounty for her killers who were apparently the four of you, then Sharon saved your assess and took you to her place. You were getting ready for the party, something comfortable to fight should it be needed. Bucky leans against the bathroom frame while you curl your hair, "You know that will go away soon though, right? When you pick on the next fight."

"If it lasts me two minutes it would be worth it" you say with a smirk as you look at him through the mirror, placing the iron on the counter you turn to look at him, he offers you a weak smile. "Well you look handsome" you say as you eye him. The black suit looked so good on him, and it just made his blue eyes stand out.

"You look... beautiful" he blinks as he eyes you, his hands falling into his pockets.

"Well thank you" your cheeks flush. After a few seconds, your gaze softens when you feel he is...off. "Are you okay, Buck? I know that what you did back there..." you trail off.

"I'm fine. Its just… I'm still processing..." he shrugs.

"You shouldn't have gone through with the plan. We could've found another way…"

"We didn't have time to find another way. Zemo knew that way would give us the information we needed" he says.

"I still don't like that he is using you like this..." you say with a frown.

He remains silent for a moment, wetting his lips before speaking. "Y/N, I know we-"

"You two done?" Sam interrupts and James takes an annoyed intake of breath, your gaze drops.

"Yeah" James walks away without a look back and you chew on your lower lip.

"Did I interrupt something?" Sam says with a smug smile.

"Get out" You walk out of the bathroom and Sam throws his arm around you, laughing.

"You two were having a moment there, weren't you?" Sam teases as you walk, poking on your shoulder. "Listen, you gotta do this smoothly. He is all rusty. He hasn't had a date in like 70 years."

"He probably wants to be by himself to finish that notebook, and right now nothing can distract us" you frown.

"You distract each other already" Sam says between laughs. "One of you will be in danger and the other will run and save the other."

"That's what I mean. Zemo said it earlier, the Winter Soldier has a reputation. If he has to keep playing the part, I'll be trying to stop him even more than I already do. I can't blow off the mission because of whatever this is..."

"Alright, you got a point, but talk to him, alright? If you want, take him out of the party and work it out" Sam pats your back as you walk out to the living room area.

"Looking sharp, Y/N" Sharon says with a grin once you come out and you twirl with a laugh. "Enjoy the party. Stay out of trouble, I'll see what I can find."

"Shall we then?" Zemo asks, holding his arm out to you.

"Let's go" you link your arm with his, just to play along. After this time with Zemo you figured out you might as well enjoy yourself, there was still a long way ahead before getting rid of him again. He didn't seem so bad since he broke out, you still didn't trust him though.

Once at the party, you stick around with Zemo. Sam and Bucky are somewhere around the lounge surveying the place, you all still had a bounty on your heads anyway. Meanwhile you are with Zemo, who was making some moves that had you giggling and laughing. He took your hand and started going around you before letting go and you grin. "Should've known you were this fun I would've helped breaking you out" you tease over the music.

"Didn't had a chance" Zemo says and smiles as he claps while letting the music move him. He eyes something behind you before looking back at you. "Your soldier can't seem to stop looking at you" you want to turn around, but you decided against it.

"He is not my soldier…" you say. "He is just watching out for us. We have prices on our heads remember?" You tap your head as you say the words. "And you have him acting as our bodyguard."

"I know your hatred was fueled when I had him act in such way, and I do apologize for such plan but it was the only way" he says. "You would know if you understood how things realistically move" he says.

"Apology accepted" you say. Zemo takes your hand and twirls you, and you catch a glimpse of Bucky walking towards the two of you.

"I believe we have company" Zemo says into your ear. "You know where to find me" he says and walks out and into the crowd with his own, awkward dancing pace. You giggle at it before turning around and finding Bucky close.

His shoulders were tense under that black suit that made him look so good, and his scowl was too obvious. "Having fun with Zemo?" He asks, everyone around you was moving to the music, except him who only looked to where Zemo had disappeared to, his tongue poking in annoyance at his cheek.

"Just wanted to get to know him a bit more. Is not an everyday thing we hang with a Most Wanted prisoner" you say with a shrug. "Who you broke out of jail may I add."

"I didn't do anything" he says and his gaze averts from yours.

"For being one hundred and six you are an awful liar, Buck" you smirk, but he doesn't say anything. His hands are tucked in his pockets, eyeing everything but you. "Relax. Enjoy the music."

"This isn't my type of music" he says coldly and looks around the place once again.

"Fine…" you stop on your moves. Might as well take Sam's suggestion, plus you could see this scenario and the music was too much for him. "Come on, let's go back upstairs and talk" you hold your hand out for him and he looks at it, he hesitates before his glove covered hand wraps around yours and you lead the way.

"I told you, I'll be fine" he sighs as he sits down on the couch, you sit right beside him.

"Bullshit, Barnes" you say as you drop down. "When you were fighting those people…"

"It was just an act…I'm not a killer anymore..."

"I know, Buck" you reach to put your hand on his knee, which he eyes before looking at you. "But you didn't go to therapy to get over this only to be pulled again for a show. This isn't right."

"I'm okay, I promise…" he trails off. "I'm just getting used to all of this" his hand covers yours, sending electricity through your nerves.

"I promised Steve I would look out for you to not do anything stupid," you smile at him "I am not a super soldier or have any powers, but if I can help. I will do what I can…" you admit to him. His blue eyes look into yours and your heart stops it's beating for a second.

You hold his gaze and shift your position on the couch, your leg was already falling asleep since it was under you. "I-" he pauses and you can see his mind wondering, thinking, calculating. Sam was right, you could almost see the gears turning.

"Talk to me. I know you have something to say" you smirk.

"I guess that what I'm trying to say is, I am glad that you are with me in this mission even after everything-"

"Don't. Please…" you were sure he was going to bring up that one time where Sam, Steve and Natasha, as well as yourself, were attacked by him while trying to get a hold of Hydra. It was the first time you had seen him, you didn't know him, but you feared him. You are a mere human and he is a super soldier, the most dangerous soldier for the past years. He had tried to kill you back then one way or another, guns, knives, grenades, but somehow you survived.

Then you met him when Cap and Sam went after him, seeing him act like a normal person triggered something in you. How could someone like him turn into someone so dangerous? The time you spent watching after him, and fighting alongside the team had warmed your heart towards him to the point you admitted to yourself you caught feelings for him. How could you not? You were the only person to go to Wakanda to see him after he was freed, and it will be an understatement that you cried your eyes out when he told you the words. That was when the two of you started having a connection.

"You okay?" His voice echoes and you realize you had zoned out.

"Yeah. Sorry I was just thinking of…" he eyes you curiously, those steel blue eyes had you going weak. You inch closer and you feel him move, his head siding in a way that all you had to do was… "I'm so sorry for this, Buck-"

"What are you apolog-" and your lips muffle his words when you press them against his. You hated this. Losing your control the second you are alone with him. This wasn't right, but it felt unbelievably nice. His lips don't move, so to save yourself more embarrassment you pull away and duck your head to avoid his gaze, hoping that your hair is covering the redness of your cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that…" you pull your hand away from under his, daring to look up at him. "We should go back to the-"

This time, he interrupts you. His flesh hand moving in a blur to the back of your head to bring you in for another kiss. His lips were rough on yours even when they parted slowly, but what did you expect? For him to be the womanizer Steve once told you he was? That now that he was free he would be kissing any girl? You let out a sigh of relief through your nostrils before pulling away.

"Did I do something wrong?" His eyes were soft with worry as he tried to meet yours.

"No. Gosh no" you bite your lip. "Don't apologize...I just lost myself there…" you giggle and he smiles weakly. You move forward again but stop, looking into his hues for approval before you lean in again slowly and his lips capture yours. He dares to part his lips and you tilt your head slightly, so does his, deepening the kiss only slightly.

"Y/N? Are you- Sweet Jesus!" Sam voices echoes through your ears and Bucky quickly pushes you away lightly, but enough to have you away from him.

"Sam. I-" You try to explain.

"Nuh-uh. I saw enough to know what was going on."

"Any leads?" Bucky asks, trying to divert the attention, standing up now.

"Sharon found him" Sam says. "Let's go, and no PDA while I'm around, okay?"

"When all of this is over-" Bucky starts as you two walk down the containers, Sam, Sharon and Zemo a few feet ahead.

"I shouldn't have done that" you insist. "My timing was off.."

"You make it sound like it was wrong when it wasn't" he pulls out his gun and so do you.

"It was" you nod your head as you walk. He reaches for your hand, looks at the group in front of you before he pulls you to the side behind a container, your body between the two.

"I have wanted what happened more than you know" he is soft in his words and his eyes divert to your lips for a moment. "I just...I have a past, Y/N..."

"A past you are free from now, Bucky" you point out. "You are not The Winter Soldier anymore. You have grown from that ever since Wakanda…" you assure him. "I'm not even asking you to accept it to start something because I know its way too soon-"

"You don't understand" he slowly backs away from you.

"You don't trust yourself entirely yet, do you?" His eyes avoiding your gaze made you frown. "I knew that this would have consequences. I'm going to talk to Zemo."

"Y/N, wait" he catches your arm as you turn and he brings you close. "We can't trust Zemo. You know that…" he says. "I am not sure how to explain it, but-"

That's when it hit you. "You don't want him to know we are each other's weakness…" you voice and his head nods slowly as he swallows.

"That's why we need to sort this out, but later, not during this…"

"Y/N?" Sam calls out and you frown.

"On it!" You whisper shout back.

"Be careful. I'll go in with Sam…You stay with Sharon…" he says and your head nods.

*****

"Walker I swear if you don't shut up I'll make you swallow that shield" your arms were crossed, leaning against the wall behind Bucky who was guarding the stairs. Zemo was cuffed, Sam was inside talking with Karli, Walker and Hoskins had found their way to you and now were here.

"Easy there. I'm just worried about your partner being in there by himself" he says and you notice the glare the Sargeant gives him.

"You have been messing this whole operation the moment you got here" you spat.

"Aren't you worried about Sam back there?"

"He can handle himself. He is doing what is right, unlike others" you eye him up and down and his whole face darkens, taking a step forward and you take a defiant one as well.

"Think carefully what you will do next, Walker" Bucky puts his hand on his chest.

"Let him. I can kick his ass and take that shield off his hands in a heartbeat…" you hiss.

"This is all easy for you, isn't it? All that serum rushin' through your veins. You let your partner in there with a Super Soldier, that blood will be on your hands if things get dirty in there…" Walker says to Bucky. How dare he!?

For a moment, you ponder on his words and you can't stand the thought of Sam being in there getting beaten by Super Soldiers while Walker could be right. You didn't want him to be. What if they took him? What if…?

"Buck…" you put your hand on his bicep and he looks at you, knowing very well what you wanted to do.

Of course, Walker wasn't very good with entrances since he literally waltzed in calling Karli and saying she was under arrest. Super Soldiers showed up everywhere and your eyes widened. Karli pushes Walker and then storms off running.

"Karli!" You call and look at Sam.

"Go! We got this!"

Your head nods, eyes shift to look at Bucky who was fighting a Super Soldier off before you storm to the direction Karli headed to. You see her walking down the corridor, not too far from you. "Karli, wait! This is not what it looks like!" Karli says and she stops in her tracks, looking back at you.

"It is exactly what it looks like! You are working for Captain America!"

"What? No! We hate the guy!" You admit bluntly, honesty can get you places after all, and at least she stopped. "We just want to work this out. There has to be a better way to fight for what you want, Karli…" you say and get closer.

"Yeah. There is...But first, you will help us deliver a message before we trust you again" your head tilts to the side curiously when you feel arms around you and you feel a pinch on your neck. Your eyelids feel heavy all of a sudden until you can't hold them open any longer.

-Bucky's POV-

After fighting some of the Flag Smashers off he meets with Sam, Walker and Hoskins in the middle of the building.

"We lost them" Hoskins says as he looked around.

"You made us loose them! I had everything under control until you stepped in!" Sam complained.

"Where is Y/N?" Bucky asks as he looks around.

"She went after Karli. I haven't seen her since..." Sam says, his phone goes off and Bucky is quick to move close to him as he opens the message. "They got Y/N…" Sam's brown eyes shift to look at Bucky who was clenching his jaw yet his eyes showed how worried he was, and mad for letting you go after Karli alone.

"That's it." Bucky turns on his heels and started walking the other direction.

"Bucky!" Sam calls but it didn't get the man's attention. "Bucky!"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #reader #james buchanan barnes imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #tfatws #(weakness)#(mine)#tfatws imagine #title might change later #avengers imagine #avengers #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines

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dragon-kazansky · 4 years ago

Text

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 3

The next morning, after breakfast at the hotel, a call was made up to your room. It wasn't until you put the phone down that you realised you didn't have a way to contact Zemo. It was good he knew where you were staying. You would have to make sure to get his number later.

It felt strange to think about that. If he had your number, wouldn't that be like taking the next step? Were you getting carried away with this? Probably.

You couldn't ignore the fact you liked Zemo.

You never expected to develop a crush on a racing driver. It seemed like he liked you too, but you didn't want to get too carried away. This might very end up being a one time thing.

You make your way down to the lobby. Zemo is waiting for you. He looked so extra, but so stylish. A fur collared jacket, driving gloves, sunglasses on his head.

He turned when he heard you approach. His face lit up with a smile as you got closer to him.

"Good morning."

"Morning. You're looking smart today," you look him up and down, not so subtly checking him out. So much for trying to feel in that crush.

"Thought I would make an impression on you."

"You already did."

Zemo smiles at that. There was a proud feeling in knowing he had you hooked. Perhaps this would lead somewhere, but he would see. He didn't want to rush things and ruin any chances he may have with you.

He wouldn't do that.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Zemo leads you outside where another fabulous car is parked. You look at it, top to bottom. He can tell by your expression you're impressed.

"Just how many cars do you have?"

"Many. I could show you my collection if you like," he says, walking over to the car and opening the door for you.

You chuckle and climb in.

Zemo takes his sun glasses and puts them on as he gets into the drivers seat. He grins at you as he sets off.

You roll the window down and let the wind mess up your hair, wanting to feel that free feeling you got that first time. Even just sitting next to Zemo brought about all kinds of exciting feelings.

Zemo turned on the radio as he drove through the streets. There was a little drive to get to the garage his race car had been taken to. This gave him some time to bask in your company again.

He could get used to having you around all the time. In fact, he would love that.

Zemo considered himself more of a solo racer. Tony Stark always had fans hanging about, 'dates' in his stand watching him race. Zemo only ever had his pit crew waiting for him at the end of a race.

It was beautiful out. Even more so when you excited the town and got onto more open roads. You had no idea where he was taking you exactly, but you couldn't complain. if he got to see sights like this every day, that was amazing.

You glanced at him. He was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, in time to the music playing on the radio. He looked so relaxed and in his element.

Feeling your gaze on him, he turned to you with a grin.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. You just... look so at home."

He laughs, the sound joyous and wonderful. It makes your heart skip a beat.

"I live in the drivers seat."

You laugh with him.

"What do you say we speed this up? Just like last time," he peers at you over his shades.

"Alright. Thrill me."

You didn't need to say any more. He pushed his foot down on the pedal and you laughed as the car sped up. With such ease, the car glided down the road. Not another soul in sight as the scenery became a blur, just like that first day.

No rules. No restrictions. No Stark.

Just two people enjoying each others company on the open road. What more could a man ask for?

In the distance, you spot a building. That had to be where he was taking you.

"Where is this?"

"It's an old air strip. Hasn't been used in decades. I come here to drive often. I asked my team to bring the car here so we can take a look at it, thought you may also appreciate the area."

You smile.

"It's stunning. There's nothing else around for miles."

Knowing these roads like the back of his hand, he speeds up further, gliding along the rear of the way with ease. Your laughter just fuels him to go faster.

You reach the air strip in no time. He slows down on the approach and pulls up right outside the hanger. He gets out first and opens your door for you. You chuckle as you take his hand and climb out.

Even with your hair all wind struck, you look stunning to him. He won't tell you that though.

You both head inside.

There it is. His race car. He exterior looks pretty good, just scuffed from where Stark's car collided with it, but nothing too serious. The crew were busy working away on it as you both approached.

"Who's this?" A voice asks from your right.

"This is Y/N, my new friend," Zemo says, introducing you. "Y/N, this is Sam. He is very good with cars."

"Nice to meet you." You shake his hand.

"Likewise."

"What's the damage?" Zemo walks over to his car.

"The engine gave out. That's all."

"That's all? It cost me a win," Zemo narrows his gaze at Sam.

"It could have been a lot worse. We'll have it fixed in no time."

"Good. I need to win the next one, and the other two to beat Stark. He cannot win them all." Zemo stands upright after looking over his vehicle.

"Trust us, we're on it."

Zemo doesn't give him any more of a response and returns to your side.

"Want to look around a little?"

"Yes please."

He places an arm around your shoulder and guides you out of the hanger. You're blushing from his touch. It almost felt like you were made to fit against him like this.

You both go to stand near the car.

"How come you have such a big rivalry with Tony Stark?" You ask, gazing up at him.

"He doesn't like the idea that I'm better than him."

"Humble."

"Honest. Stark is an engineer and a genius. He can build a car from scratch. I know the ins and outs of cars. I know how to make them better, how to improve them. My cars are better than his, and he is threatened by it."

"Sounds petty."

Zemo shrugs. He is not ashamed to admit he is better than Stark. His whole vendetta is to prove it. He just doesn't have many chances left to do so.

"Aren't you worried?"

"No," he looks you in the eye, "I'm certain."

"Does nothing scare you?"

"Not yet."

There is no expression on his face. You have no idea what's going on inside that head of his. You knew he knew what he was doing. This was his job, his passion. That didn't mean the risks didn't apply to him.

For some reason, Stark's words came to mind. "He's dangerous." Not just on the track, he had said.

Was he?

Who was this man standing before you? His personal information was almost non existent online. Other than his racing background, there was nothing about him. You didn't even know where he was from. His accent suggested not from around here.

Did you dare ask?

No. You didn't want to. No matter how curious you were...

"Would you like me to drive you along the strip?" He asked, nodding across the field where you could see the straight road.

"Yes. Don't go easy on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he grins.

You both get into the car and he wastes no time in driving over to the strip. This car doesn't even remotely come close to his racing car, but he'd be damned if he didn't leave you thrilled after this.

He lines up perfectly. You hold on tight and smile at him.

Wheels screeching, whole body jerking, and nothing but the wind blowing through the window. With all his skill and precision, the car speeds up in handled ease. This man knows what he's doing.

You trust him with your life.

You wanted to thank your friend for bringing you to the races that day. If she hadn't, what would you be doing now? Working? Sitting at home? Studying?

Nothing nearly as amazing as this.

Zemo brought life into your world, and you didn't want it to end.

At the end of the runway, he turns the car with ease, though the power causes you to lean toward him as he turns the vehicle around. He almost reaches out for your hand, but focuses his attention on his driving. Back up you go.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye.

Could it be that there was one thing he wanted more than winning against Stark?

No, he didn't think so.

The car comes to a screeching halt at the end of the runway. Heaven knows how his tyres are doing.

You grin at him once the car stops.

"I'll never get tired of that."

He chuckles.

"That pleases me to hear."

Your phone rings. You apologise as you pick it up and answer it, disappointed it was ruining your fun.

"Hello?"

"Y/N? Hey, how was the race yesterday?" It was your friend.

"Oh, uh. It was good." You lied. It hadn't ended as you had hoped.

"Great. What time does your train get in tomorrow? I have something super exciting to share with you."

"About 2 o'clock I think."

"I'll be there to pick you up. Oh my gosh, you will not believe what's happened. I can barely contain myself. I'll speak to you soon."

She hangs up.

You stare at your phone, confused. She sounded super excited, whatever that was about.

"Problem?"

"Uh, no. Just my friend calling. She's going to pick me up from the train station tomorrow."

"I see. It's a shame you do not live locally. I would get to see you every day," he smiles.

You're blushing again.

"You'd get board of me really quickly," you say, tucking your phone away again.

"I doubt that."

"With your lifestyle? Definitely."

"I may live an exciting life, but you are a rare treasure any man would be lucky enough to have in his life."

"Are you flirting with me?" You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

"That depends, is it working?"

You laugh.

"It might be."

"Then yes," he says, grinning like a fool.

You both sit there and laugh.

"Allow me to drop you off back at the hotel."

"I'd like that."

Much slower, he drives back to the hanger to alert the team he is leaving. They wave as you both leave.

The ride back is a lot more gentle, more casual. The radio is turned on, but the volume is low. Zemo is just basking in your presence.

He can't admit that he will miss you once you're gone.

The ride is over much sooner than he would have liked. Once again, you both sit there together.

You pull out your phone.

"Can I have your number?" You ask, biting the bullet.

He grins smugly.

"Already making a move?"

"Shush. Can I?"

He nods, taking your phone and putting his number into your contacts. You smile as you take it back, pretending his gloved fingers didn't brush against yours.

"I expect to hear from you," he says.

"I promise."

You go to get out, but he stops you by grabbing your arm lightly. You look at him, a little confused.

"Remember what I said."

"About what?" You ask.

"Come to the races, and I'll take you in a date."

You bite your lip.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Good."

He stays there until you've gone inside, out of sight. His phone suddenly feels heavy in his pocket, waiting for a text or call.

He was in deep, he just didn't know it yet.

He thinks of you as he drives off.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch

#zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #marvel #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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kingandfireheart · 4 years ago

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Cassian's Love: words from a guy who speaks through actions

Something I love about Cassian is that he doesn't really hide the ball when it comes to his feelings for Nesta. He's most definitely an actions speak louder than words person (physical touch is his love language), but he does use words in ACOSF. I read someone say that Cassian didn't show his love for Nesta, and I completely disagree. Even though SJM never showed us Cassian saying the actual words, we see it so often through the small touches like flicking her cheek, the way that he never makes fun of her (many) questions, or the way he's always there, but he never pushes her too far.

In ACOWAR he confesses his love

" I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world -- the next life. And we will have that time. I promise. "

Yes, there is a lot he doesn't say - that they are mates, that he wants more than just sex, that he loves her. He even goes far enough to attack Lanthys to prevent him from revealing the truth. (I can write a whole post on why he wouldn't tell her about being mates, but I think Nesta's reaction to Lucien's declaration at the end of ACOMAF can suffice as explanation).

After his heartbreaking confession in ACOWAR, it makes sense that he's more reserved with Nesta. When thinking about his almost confession on solstice, he even says, "He hardly managed to walk away with some semblance of pride. Over his cold, dead body would she do that to him again." He is protecting himself by ignoring the mating bond too ("Some small quiet part of his brain whispered otherwise. He ignored it. Had ignored it for a long time now.")

Still throughout the book, he owns up to his feelings for Nesta when given the opportunity -- he just doesn't say the words "I love you" or "You're my mate". This post goes through some scenes in chronological order, since they show how Cassian does care.

(I could write another whole post on how I feel cheated of two months of happy Nessian between Solstice and Starfall, but that's what fanfiction is for, right?).

When Mor asks if it pains him to see Nesta like this, he says:

"All of it pains me... It pains me that Nesta has become... this. It pains me that she and Feyre are always at each other's throats. It pains me that Feyre hurts over it, and I know Nesta does, too. It pains me that ..."

When he's pleading her to train, she asks him why he isn't negotiating harder, he says.

"For you, I have no strategies."

Then there's the confrontation before, "I'm always thinking of that look on your face". (Yes, he's goading her here, but I don't think he's lying)

"Why so many questions tonight?" // "Because we're talking like normal people, and I want to know. About all of it." // "Let's nor retread old territory, Nes." // "It never mattered to me whether you took half the Cauldron's power or a drop. It still doesn't matter. // "Why?" "Why do you even bother?" // "Why did you stay at my side when we went up against the King of Hybern during the last battle?"

Answer: because they're mates.

After Nesta fights with Elain, he tells her he'll be there for her.

"Whatever you need to throw at me, I can take it. I won't break." No challenge laced the words. Only a plea. // "You don't understand," she said, voice rasping. "I am not like you and the others." // "That's never bothered me one bit." (emphasis added)

When Rhys gives Nesta a mental warning about Gwyn:

"I'm pissed off that you can't seem to believe one good thing about her. That you refuse to fucking believe one good thing about her."

When they are discussing the Dread Trove and pushing Nesta to scry: Yes Cassian for arguing against only protecting Elain

" There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that should not be exposed to." // "But Nesta should?" Cassian growled.

"It's not right to wield Elain as a threat to manipulate Nesta into scrying." "There are harsher ways to convince Nesta, boy" "You're a fool if you think threats will make her obey you." ... "If we manipulate Nesta into scrying, even by using Elain against her, then we'll do what is necessary." "I don't like it."

After Nesta's nightmare:

"Hey." "Hello" "Are you all right?" "Yes." "Good" "You want to talk about it?" "No" "That's fine." "You want breakfast?" "I like your priorities, General." (italics added)

When Rhys and Feyre mention bringing in Helion:

"He'll help...If only for another shot at her." // Nesta rolled her eyes, and and the gesture was so normal that Cassian's smile became more genuine, edged with relief // You wear your heart for all to see, brother. Rhys said without turning Cassian's way. // Cassian only shrugged. He was past caring.

When they finally have sex , we have this short back-and-forth:

"I'll hurt you." // "I don't care" // "I do."

and my personal favorite

"I'm beyond lies right now, Nesta."

When Nesta asks whether Cassian enjoyed their previous encounter, he tells her:

I enjoyed myself too much. I've thought about it for days and days.

"Whatever you want. Whatever you need from me." He knew those were a fool's words, knew he offered up too much.

And when Nesta asks "How can I need you again so soon?" Answer: because they're mates.

"I've needed you from the moment I first met you. And now that I get to have you, I don't what to stop

When they find out about the new Dread Trove, he's quick to defend Nesta to others:

This scene isn't really dialogue, but I'm including it because I love Cass.

They moved on to far merrier subjects, but Cassian mulled it over throughout the evening. The fighting was only part of it. The Training would sustain her, funnel her rage, but there had to be more. There had to be joy. There had to be music. (emphasis added)

When Nesta breaks down at the end of the hike, we see that Cassian doesn't just love Nesta, but he likes her, he may even admire her.

"I don't know how to get there. I don't think I'm capable of it" // "You are. I've seen it -- I've seen what you can do when you are willing to fight for the people you love. Why not apply that same bravery and loyalty to yourself?"

"You don't need to become some impossible ideal. You don't need to become sweet and simpering. You can give everyone that I Will Slay My Enemies look - which is my favorite look, by the way. You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don't want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself."

"I'll be with you every step of the way... Just don't lock me out. You want to walk in silence for a week, I'm fine with that. So long as you talk to me at the end of it." (emphasis added)

When Cassian and Nesta go to the prison, there are some more telling moments:

"What if my presence would go unnoticed, but yours sets off a trap? We can't risk that." // His throat bobbed. "I can't risk you." // The words slammed into her heart. (emphasis added)

and later,

"I have always been your friend Nesta. Always"

When Nesta and Cassian return from the Prison:

Nesta brushed her fingers against Cassian's in silent understanding. His own curled against hers, meeting her stare as if to say, See? We're the same after all.

But when Rhys suggests having Nesta dance with Eris, Cassian is territorial to the max

"You're not going to use her."

"Over my dead fucking body," Cassian exploded.

"Nesta hasn't agreed to anything," Cassian snapped. "Even one dance with that prick is too much --"

"I don't like it."

He also agrees to go with her to the cottage in the human lands, and is so damn supportive and kind to her there. Action not words here but I love this himbo so much

Cassian stood beside her through all of it. Not speaking, not touching. Just there, should she need him. Her friend -- whom she'd asked to come her with her not because he was sharing her bed, but because she wanted him here. His steadiness and kindness and understanding.

And of course, the amazing and wonderful solstice scene:

"I'm sorry for how I behaved last Solstice. For how awful I was."// "I know. I forgave you a long time ago."

"Because I was fucking jealous!" He roared, wings splaying. "You looked like a queen, and it was painfully obvious you should be with a princeling like Eris and not a low born nothing like me! Because I couldn't stand the sight of it, right down to my gods-damned bones."(emphasis added)

"You're not going to marry Eris." "No" "There will be no one else. For either of us." "Yes" "Ever."

The big ole fight

"Say what I've guess from the moment we met. What I knew the first time I kissed you. What became unbreakable between us on Solstice night"

"I am your mate, for fuck's sake!" "You are my mate! Why are you still fighting it?

"You promised me forever on Solstice," he said, voice breaking. "Why is one word somehow throwing you off that?" (emphasis added)

And the conclusion that just wasn't satisfying enough:

"What do you want? // "You" // "You've had me from the moment you met me."

#nesta archeron #Cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #acosf #a court of silver flames #nessian #kp analysis #acotar series #mtp

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speedypandaweasel · 3 years ago

Text

Change of Plans - A Yancy x Neutral! Reader

❤ REBLOGS WOULD BE APPRECIATED ❤

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 MASTERLIST

Where we left off:

So much for a lie in. You slowly rose from the cocoon of warmth you had made for yourself and you felt your toes wriggle up the bed and hiss at the exposed coldness of the room. Dragging yourself out of subconsciousness, your eyes finally decided to greet the grey interior and the black-barred window that perched just out of your arms reach. Why would they put such a tiny window if they didn’t want anyone to look out of it? Pretty pathetic actually. The Penitentiary really needed to repaint the bars, some of the black paint had flaked onto your pillow whilst you were sleeping.

You sat up, a little too quickly, and a cold, hard sensation hit the top of your body. Well good morning to you too World.

The unbearable ringing continued as you brought your arm down onto the squawking alarm clock. The room fell into a comfortable silence once more. 7:30am, not too bad, yet it could have been a little longer. Yet it was as if someone decided to balance a massive book on “how to not have a headache” on your already sore head. You’d ask Boggs for some paracetamol, or maybe some Ibuprofen as you tried to ponder on what did you do to deserve this...

~ Chapter 5 ~

MatchBox Analysis - 2.3K Words

"I'm here to speak to Officer Boggs." You timidly spoke, playing with the hem of your shirt. The man that towered in the small door frame in front of you was the most intimidating of all: Officer Rexx.

There were rumours about him that were too obscure and dangerous to mention twice, You only happen to hear about them when you overheard a couple of prisoners talking about "the anniversary" of how he lost his previous job, whatever that meant. To be frank, you didn't want to know about whatever hell hole he wriggled out of and treaded on eggshells around him, even if you weren't speaking to him. Something about that man caused you to feel insecure about something that you couldn't point your finger at, but there was no doubt that it was there.

"Yeah, he's in here." He paused for a moment. "You're one of the newer ones around here, aren't you? I've seen you around but never had the pleasure to meet."

He stuck out his grubby hand, his sausage fingers extended shortly at you, waiting for you to touch them. You grimaced before wiping that expression off your face. Rule 1: Never acknowledge the fingers.

You stuck out your hand bravely and shook his greasy one. His strong grip tightened around your knuckles as he shook hard, almost breaking your frail fingers.

"Well, I'll just go get him. Stay there." He spat. The door firmly closed behind him, the staff room's view blocked once again. You peeped through the mesh windows and managed to decipher the blurred silhouette of the sofa and coffee counter. You backed away as the door swung open again to the familiar face of Officer Boggs, his much shorter height made you relax second by the second.

"Oh hi Y/N, shouldn't you be outside?" He asked before shutting the door behind him, leaving the both of you outside in the wide hallway.

"Well I am, but I forgot to give you this from last night." You replied, planting your hand into your pocket before pulling out the owners key. Boggs let out a chuckle as his rosy cheeks grew even merrier.

"I forgot I gave you this! I'm glad that at least someone doesn't take my naivety for granted" He continued. "I respect that about you."

He unhooked the jingling keys from his beltline and clipped the Cafertiera key on the chain. He had a proud collection of keys to his name - being a veteran member of the Prison, it did have its perks.

"Well thank you, I really appreciate that Boggs. You know, sometimes I don't feel like I fit in here myself." Sounded cliche, you internally facepalmed yourself. Normally you wouldn't be telling this to anyone, but Boggs had been there since forever so it was nice to tell at least someone your true thoughts about staying here.

"Oh now don't think like that, every prisoner when they first come in her feels like that, but don't worry, I'm sure that the others will welcome you soon. Have you tried talking to them? I know you're not the socially inclined person but give it a shot. Who knows? You might actually enjoy their company" He concluded.

When Boggs gave advice, it could go two ways: either it was incredibly awful which ended in bad decisions being drawn from it, or it could be genuinely heartwarming and sincere words of wisdom. Thankfully, this was one of those pieces.

You allowed yourself to run over the speech the superior had just given and smiled. You could spark up a conversation with Yancy, you could ask him about what that poem meant! Maybe that could be the starting point of breaking out of your introverted shell.

"Thanks Boggs, I really do appreciate you." You said, before heading off outside.

"Have fun! But not too much fun, I don't want for you to get hurt!" His yells sounded down the empty corridor.

The mid-day sun blazed down on the steaming concrete, the prisoners having that work-out glow. Yancy had rolled his short sleeves even shorter, exposing his lesser-known tattoos, and his private box was stuffed in his trouser leg conveniently, away from the guard's view. If anyone found out what was in this box..well, it would ruin him.

Racing became tiresome after a couple of hours so the prisoners resorted to lazily running laps around the small quarter, this included the songbird himself.

"I tell's ya T, you wanna stop off for a few minutes? this box is gettin' uncomfortable." He protested, shifting his weight from one foot to another, finding a comfortable spot in his trouser leg.

"Why, you chickening out? Scared that someone will beat your record?" T retorted.

The prisoners slowed to a stop. Yancy regrettably paused his track game and attempted to get his ragged breath back.

"No ya dingus, it's 'cause dis box is scratchin' my skin off! I swear I's bleedin' down my shin by now."

Tiny's retort turned into concern as they pulled over to the side of the quarter. Once out of sight, Yancy slowly rolled his trouser leg up to his shin and took out the small, worn-out box from the bottom of his leg.

"Your leg hasn't been sawed off Yance, but you sure you need to keep it there? You could hurt yourself."

Yancy chortled shortly, not willing to admit that his friend was right. After what happened last time, he was going to learn from his mistakes. He rubbed his fading ankle bruise as he remembered the time he stayed in the medical ward. But the question was: where was he going put the little thing?

His eyes scanned the usual nooks and crannies that he had hid stuff in before, but word somehow got out and now everyone was using them for their secret stashes. Great - so much for having the upper hand.

His eyes continued to look for somewhere to stuff the thing until his ears pricked up on the outside door swinging open. His frustrated face broke into a smile as he saw you walk out timidly, and perching on a weight bench.

"Here, can youse hang on to it for a hot minute, just don't open it alight," He said, his curious eyes never leaving your sight.

Tiny was startled. The Boss never let them hold anything of his, let alone the one thing he persistently never left out of his sight. Tiny slipped the matchbox into their shoe before taking a squat down the brick wall as they watched their mate stride over to the newbie, but chose not to follow suit.

You picked at the seat cushion like it was the most interesting thing ever to you, whilst plucking up the courage to go and talk to the most confident person out here. Your eyes managed to look up. partially blinded from the sun but saw the small huddles of prisoners near the water pitches, walking around, or down by the blind spot. Guards stood at every entrance broadly, letting people in and out of the area, their moist uniforms made you wonder how the hell they managed to keep composure in this heat.

Your moment abruptly came as you saw the man of the hour coming towards you, his wide shoulders fully exposed to the heats rays. You knew he worked but w-w-wow.

"Finally decided to join in the fun eh?" He sprung up the conversation.

Chuckling, you look down, embarrassed and in amusement "And I'm guessing that this is the newest trouser look. Is this asymmetric chic? or is this just you trying to use illusion to become taller?" You threw a double whammy at him.

Yancy's shocked eyes bored into your own mischievous ones for a brisk moment. Suddenly, he exaggeratedly placed a hand on his chest before crumbling to the grass floor. "Oh de pain! I can't bear it anymore! Not another short joke!"

Other people around the quarter edge were starting to laugh along with his flailing and happily applauded when he finished his piece. The cheering and jeering died down as the conversation drifted back to normal, as Yancy dragged his trouser leg down and sidled up next to you and he bumped his hard shoulder next to yours.

"What a Drama Queen." You continued, letting out a small smile.

"What can I's say, I got's to get ma training in somewhere." He replied "So how's it been with you? Finish dat book yet?"

It was as if he read your mind! The topic of the poetry book caught your attention as you chipped away at your social shell. "Uh, not yet, but I did want to ask you a couple of questions about poem 19. You know, the one you recommended I read?"

The prisoner stretched his arms and placed them behind himself. "Oh yeah! It's one of ma favourites! I personally thinks its about de good and bad sides to love and once you've actually caught feelings for someone, it pains you to do things dat even surprise yaself. Youse got me?"

You would have never known that Yancy had a passion for literature, just listening to him made you even more dedicated to spending time with him. Boggs was right with his advice, it didn't bruise your ego that bad to socialise with new people, as it made you question what other things the man had up it sleeve - or trouser leg.

You rephrased yourself, "Ok then Yance, do you read poems often then?" your feet started to dance around the grassy floor, flattening pieces of green.

"So do you analyse poems often then Yancy?"

The man interrupted you "Oh please, call me Yance, only the big dog calls me Yancy."

"I used to when I was a youngin', my family hads a nice library ya see. Dey's had Shakespeare, Jane Austen, and some oder authors I can't remember but when youse a fabulous actor like myself, you gotta keep up ya noggin' in check." He smiled and looked out onto the busy area, almost reminiscing about his past life.

He never liked to bring up the subject of his past but when Yacny was with you, it felt- right. To finally talk about childhood memories and just laugh about them, instead of it always being dragged back to the soul reason why he was locked up at Happy Trails in the first place.

His strong arm planted on the side of your small shoulder as he gave you a tight squeeze. "How about youse? Do you read?"

"I-Uh... I"

Words formed in your mouth, yet your tongue was on holiday, not responding to any sentence your brain was throwing at you. Butterflies were born in your stomach as your face started to feel warm, too warm for your liking. What was happening? Were you having sunstroke!?

"Youse ok? Ya looking a little warm d'ere" Yancy said, dropping his arm from your side. "Youse want me to go grab you some water?"

This signalled your tongue to finally come back to work. "Oh. No, I'm fine thanks and yeah, I read, that's what I was going to ask about you actually." You said, forcing confidence.

"No way! Heh, I guess great minds think alike huh?" He replied, grinning his addicting smile. He looked over to where he left Tiny and an idea sprung in his scheming mind. "Hey, youse wanna come over to the wall, I got's a friend who you could meet. I mean, only if you wanna?" Yancy laughed, trying to sweetly coax you deeper into socialisation.

You hesitated. This man sure was alluring, but risking another episode like that caused you to reconsider. You bit your bottom lip, slightly, your eyebrows became sewn together as you weighted up your options. Either go over and run your social battery out completely, or decline and recover from this moment.

"Thanks Yance, but I think I'm done for the day." You responded. "All this talking and warm heat" and maybe some other things "has made my head spin a little."

"Ok, well if youse's sure." Yancy stood up once more and punched your shoulder "See you around Keys!"

You saw him walk back to his mate and sit down together under the shade of the building. You blissfully made your way back inside of Happy Trails, back with you and your own thoughts.

Its blasting air conditioner made your arms tingle as you pulled out a chair in the Cafeteria and went to reach for the poetry book. The silence hung much thicker in the air as you sat uncomfortably. Is this what withdrawal felt like? To be isolated not a minute after being surrounded by people. You kind of missed the feeling of having someone to talk to, but everyone had their boundaries - even you. You tried not to linger on the thought of feeling like you let Yancy down. He gave you the opportunity to help you overcome your fears but you didn't take it. Maybe next time you would take it, but for now, you did something new today: You should be proud of yourself.

You scanned around at the empty chairs and tables, the occasional guard whistling by the Cafeteria's door frame before you brought your head to the window. Your eyes soon spotted Yancy sashaying around with his friend. They must have said something funny because he soon showed his pearly whites, his chest rising and falling as his strong hand clutched his chest. Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away from this scene. The jailbird was the only person who actually tried with you. Smiling to yourself, you looked back up and your breath hitched. He was looking directly back at you and giving you a small wave. His smaller companion followed suit, shooting their hand straight up, frantically joining in. You sheepishly waved back before opening the book from you left off.

"Missed me Y/N?"

#yancy x reader #yancy #ahwm #a heist with markiplier #markiplier #markiplier egos #ahwm yancy #x reader #yancy the prisoner

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kozutenshi · 4 years ago

Text

"neh, tooru." he tilted his head to the side, looking at your figure arranging the pillows in your small makeshift house.

"i'll definitely marry you when we're older."

he chuckled at your sudden outburst, not coping with what you said. "what do you even mean by that?"

"well, marriage.. isn't that what happens when two people want to stay together in each other's side forever?" your unsure and confused expression made him laugh harder. the pout on your lips made him stop, patting your cheek with a soft smile on his face.

"well then, i guess i'm gonna have to get a ring ready."

BALAY BALAY

— "bahay-bahayan" in Filipino!

— a game played my two or more wherein the kids would act like a real family doing what a family does normally. literally in simple terms, playing house.

— used to play this with my cousin, two other friends, and my childhood friend. yes, my childhood friend was the dad and i was the mom.

sometimes, you wonder which events made things turn out to be how they currently were.

seasons change, and your years of stay in this world had been growing. the amount of times you told a lie or two, the amount of times you cried, laughed, burst out of anger; collectively, this was what our life was.

oikawa thinks the same way too.

the young man sat on the park bench, looking out to the beach of brazil. he should be in argentina right now, practicing the sport he loves, but ever since he got the mail, it was as if a part of him felt too empty to function. his team gave him a week off, and he found himself going back to brazil reminiscing.

he thumbed the gold letterings, almost wishing the letter came with your scent instead of the roses that made the contents painfully obvious.

of course he had opened it, the seal already broken enough to know that he had opened it several times. taking a deep breath, he held his tears back.

how did it come to this?

on the other side of the world, you waited for his answer, the man you stuck with since children. it had been days since the mail was reportedly received. you were nervous, gulping down a lump on your throat to his lack of response. warm arms wrapped you from behind, kissing your temple. "hasn't he replied yet?"

his hand took yours, playing with the ring he gave you and drawing slow therapeutic circles on your skin. you smiled sadly at your fiancee, before shaking your head and melting into his arms. "nope. aren't you supposed to be at work?" he chuckled sheepishly before picking up his things and kissing you tenderly. "yeah. i'm off now. i'm sure he's just preoccupied so don't stress yourself over his response, yeah?" you nodded, sending him off with a loving smile which he returned.

as the door closed, your eyes went back to the laptop screen, begrudgingly thinking of your work before sitting down and continuing it. you didn't know what time it was when you finished, but it was probably an hour or two already when the doorbell rang.

lazily, you stood up and opened the door to find oikawa standing at your doorstep. "yo, n/n-chan." your eyes showed your shock and your body froze, before you relaxed and chuckled. "yikes, i'm hallucinating," you muttered under your breath before closing the door in his face.

"you know.. i'm flattered that you think of me that much that i can be a hallucination.. but for real, i'm 100% human, no alien stuff here."

the "I can't believe you're here" face you had made him chuckle, opening his arms for you to fall into. your scent was familiar, your warmth, your smile, until you dissolved into sobs. frantically, he moved away from you and wiped the tears off tenderly with shaky hands. "what? why are you crying?!"

"tooru! why weren't responding to me?" he chuckled nervously, knowing full well that telling the real reason will complicate things. "i wasn't sure what to answer just yet so i decided to discuss the matter with my coaches first. sorry, n/n-chan. now, can you stop crying, princess?"

it was painful to lie to you, but if it is for what's better, then he'd do it. "don't call me that." you urge yourself to move away and invite him into your apartment shared with your fiance. his eyes scanned the loft, noting the things that mirrored your personality on every shelf, every wall.

"how long have you been here in japan?"

"this is my third day. i'll go back tomorrow."

"ah, i see. then shall we spend the day together?"

"yeah. i did meet the three guys yesterday. it's your turn."

you placed the bowl of chips in front of him, urging to eat while he raised his eyebrows in question. "why didn't you invite me?"

"better question. why are you eating chips this early?" you shrugged, shoving a piece or two into your mouth. "it's not that early. it's like, almost noon."

he rolled his eyes and started eating. the silence stretched on but it was comforting. his eyes raked on your figure, how you were still the same, but different. as if a part of you stayed, the other changed.

"oh yeah. i have to go to that volleyball thing to help takeru with his plays. wanna come with?"

"takeru, as in my nephew?"

"yeah, who else?"

"there are tons of takeru's in this country, y'know."

you shrugged. "well you have no choice. you're coming with. say cheese to the camera. i'll tell my fiancee about you suddenly being here." raising your phone, you snapped a photo to your fiance, telling him you'll spend the day with tooru which he agreed with a "take care" message.

oikawa watched your lips curve to a smile, the same one he fell in love with, only to realize it wasn't for him. was he hurt? no.

numb. that's what he was.

the two of you passed by your previous school, onto the training grounds reminiscing stories after stories. with a pouting takeru, the three of you watched the smaller children train, a fond smile on your face. a small little girl stumbled to you with tears. "mama?"

oikawa saw how petrified you looked for a second before you sat down and tried to ease her. he then recalled how the two of you used to play, hand in hand, eyes to eyes. he sat beside you, patting the head of the child lightly which she seemed to like.

you watched how he calmed her with no words, and how she went from crying to laughing in minutes. a fond smile was on your face when the mother came over and took the child.

"you two look good together. thank you so much for taking care of her."

"thank you but we aren't-"

"thank you. it was no problem ma'am!"

he waved a hand to the child who smiled at him and waved back. his smile was a genuine warm one, his eyes holding adoration, before they shifted to you. "what are you staring at, n/n-chan?"

you shook your head. "i just wondered where you got your skills in calming down a child until i remember takeru."

"I didn't learn it from taking care of him, y'know." confused, you looked at him, his eyes looking somewhere far. "i learned it from you." he stood up, stretching and looked down on your sitting figure.

"c'mon n/n-chan. before they remember who i am-"

"excuse me. you're oikawa tooru, right?"

a highschool girl shyly stood with her group of friends, their phones clutched to their chests. somehow this reminded you of the days when he was innocently playing volleyball with iwaizumi, until a bunch of girls came from the vending machines, clutching boxes of milk in different flavors, some holding milk bread in their hands. you deadpanned when you realize they were holding out their phones for you to take their picture.

"tooru. you better treat me food after this, okay?" he knew your look. the one that made him gulp and feel threatened. "yes, of course, n/n-chan."

and so he did, and before you know it, it was getting dark. the two of you were in the apartment, the credits rolling just like every other times the two of you bonded.

"today was fun."

it's always fun with you. "sure was."

now, unlike before, the silence was deafening. "have you ever wondered.. how things would've worked out if you did something different in the past?"

your question caught him off guard and he tensed up before he suck into the couch. "not really." a lie.

"it might weigh down on me too much if i did."

your chuckle came sad, a hint of pain under it. "i see." now the atmosphere was too quiet. the movie has rolled its credits, the TV flashing a selection of movies again.

painful. it was painfully obvious that something is wrong and you couldn't help but want to cry.

"do you.. remember-"

"will you come?"

your voice was unsure, shaky, loud, when you looked at him with tears in your eyes. "you will, right?" his heart cracked. he knew this would happen already. he flashed a soft smile before taking you in his arms.

"of course i will. it's the wedding of my favorite n/n-chan after all. besides, you know i.."

he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his thumb wiping your tears gently. there was something lonely about his movements, the way he caressed you, as if saying 'this is the last time', or maybe a temporary goodbye. he held you closer, his warmth enveloping you.

"i will always be there."

TRAVELLERS: @doodleniella @kenmakodzu @lyzzklm @mfcassandra @oikaw-ugh @seijohlogy @thesecondapplepienation

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random-blfan · 4 years ago

Text

Alsar 65: I'm Holding my Stomach

"Then, is this design okay?" (It’s a bit more like “Can you do this design?” )

"Oh, leave it to me! I'd like to change some things, so please drop by sometime."

The carpenter who was introduced by Ally-san seems to be a designer too, and when he told us what he wanted, he took notes and asked questions such as "What do you want to do here?" And "How many children's rooms do you want?" In regard to the arrangement of the rooms.

Thanks to that, I had lunch on the way, but today the rough floor plan was decided and we were also able to finish the draft up to the last detail.

"Then please!"

"Thank you"

"We’ll be back in a couple of days."

The carpenter sent us off and we left the store.

Now Fer-san is holding my left hand and Chris-san and Sig-san walk behind us while talking.

I’ve been thinking, when did it become a rule to always hold hands with at least one person?

They normally hold my hand and I don’t say anything and there’s no opportunity to refuse, well it's not like I hate it so it’s fine but…

"I didn't expect that it would take this long. It's already evening, so let's go home,okay?"

"Yes, but are children’s rooms that necessary ...?"

As I walked home, I looked up and listened to Fer-san, who said with a smiling face.

Children's rooms, 5 rooms ...

Me bearing that many children! ?? Is what I thought, though I was told that wasn’t a problem.

In the first place, it feels strange to talk about children even though we really haven’t talked about it in depth...

"Well, even if you don't give birth to that many,a storeroom would be useful, right? If you give birth to five children, we’ll be able to raise them, so don't worry?"

"Hmm ... that's right ... and the servant's room ..."

I was told it would be a good idea for there to be an extra room, and it was incorporated into the floor plan.

"Ren-chan isn't going to quit being an adventurer, right? Then you have to have a room for the person who will take care of the kids while you're away? It's essential for an adventurer with all your companions, so even if it’s small it’s necessary "

"Well, I understand that but ... I didn’t grow up in that kind of environment, so it feels strange ..."

I’ve been through a lot to become an adventurer, so I want to continue after getting married, I was told that if I couldn’t look after my child then there should be a room for a babysitter. I feel torn.

When I heard that, I thought I should quit being an adventurer for a while, but as a support magician who can support three people, I should be able to reduce the risk of injury and death by doing subjugations together, so I want to continue. So I agreed to make a servant room.

Malik would think! I don't feel like saying that …( I really didn’t get this one not even when my friend explained to me, but Ren is worried about Malik’s opinion on the matter it seems)

"Oh, I will move to that house two days after tomorrow, but I have some furniture, so I wonder if I can leave it as it is? I still don't know if it will fit the new house even if I buy some."

"Ah, but why not just renew the bed in the master bedroom? I think the bed there is too small for us and Ren-kun."

"When you say that, it's certainly impossible for four people. Okay, let’s go to the furniture store tomorrow?"

"It should be as big as possible, right?"

When the three of them talk, it becomes a conversation above me and it is difficult to get into it, so I usually just listen to it.

If there is no particular problem, I won’t try to interrupt them

Besides, they talk to me properly, and even now, Fer-san's is still holding my hand, so I don't feel like I'm out of the group, and it's fun to see the three of them having fun.

"Oh, I can see Malik's house. Today I have to give Ren-kun back to Malik."

"Is Malik already at home?"

"Well ... today his shift should end by evening, so I think it's about time for him to come back."

Yeah, I’m sure.

I have a table with his shifts because the shift changes every month, but I can't confirm it because I keep it at home.

"Let's say hello. He let you stay yesterday ..."

"Really? You think it wasn’t a problem letting cute Ren stay with you?"

"Fugu !?"

"Wow !? Malik-san!? Sig-san is falling! Please let go!"

I think it happened while Sig-san said that, pointing at the house, from behind, a hand extended to Sig-san's solid neck and wrapped around it as if squeezing.

I didn't notice him, but it seems that Malik-san is strangling Sig-san with all his might.

I ask him to let go immediately!

"Oh, I can't help it if it’s Ren's request. Fine."

"Goho ... haha ... Mari ... ku-san ..."

"Sig-san, are you okay !? Doesn’t your neck hurt? If it hurts should I use 「Heal」? "

Malik-san relaxed his grip and released Sig-san with a look that as if he couldn't help it.

I hurriedly approached Sig-san who was coughing violently while kneeling in place.He shook his head so it seems there’s no pain.

"It's okay. I wouldn't be as careless as to hurt him .... Anyway, you guys come in, also there’s something I need to say to Chris, okay?"

Malik-san, who is quietly angry and looks unpleasantly sullen, says to the three of them, but why does he want to talk to Chris-san?

But ... before that ...!

"Malik-san? Please apologize to Sig-san? It may have been bad to stay without permission, but it's terrible to go for his vulnerable neck from behind, understand?"

"Ah…"

It was fine because Sig-san has training, but an ordinary person would have been strangled in the blink of an eye, why did he strangle him anyway!

When I got angry with that in mind, my pout turned into a troubled expression, and I was scratching my head. ( My friend told me that while the “scratching my head” here can literally just be that it’s also used when someone is embarrassed or suffering)

"If you don't apologize, I won't make lunch for a while!"

"What!? ... I'm sorry."

"No…" (This no is more like “it’s fine...”)

This is the only way I can express my anger, so when I declared that, Malik-san made a terribly surprised face and immediately apologized. I reach my hand out to Sig-san who is crouching to help him stand up. (しゃがみ込む = to squat; to crouch down completely generally with face looking through knees)

It seems he really said "I look forward to Ren’s bento everyday" before.

"Hmm ... I'm home for now let’s go in ..."

Malik goes into the house while sighing so those three follow suit.

"Well, sit down"

As we enter the living room, we are asked to sit on the rug, so we do so obediently.

"Malik-san, yesterday I suddenly stayed somewhere else, I’m sorry ... were you angry because of that ...?"

"Ah ... well, Ren is an adult too? So it 's fine. The problem is Chris. If you want to contact me, please contact me directly.Because I wasn’t there at that time I was ridiculed as I had to rely on Hugo to pass the message !? "

"Eh…?"

He isn’t angry because of the overnight stay?

Eh, Chris-san, didn’t you contact him directly! ??

Thinking so, I look at Chris-san who is sitting next to me looking at Malik-san as if nothing happened.

"Eh ~? Malik wasn't there, but if you got home, wouldn't you be surprised if Ren wasn't there, I thought you would worry, so I asked them to pass on the message ~? Are you angry? "

It doesn't sound like Chris-san's way of speaking ...

Well, if he wasn't there at that time, it can’t be helped but ... What does he mean by ridicule?

"... Ku. That's right. You're not in the wrong. The problem is Hugo."

"Right?"

"I don't care about perfection ...? ...? He didn’t deserve to be strangled ..."

It seems that Malik-san admitted that Chris wasn't in the wrong, dropping his shoulders.

And poor Sig-san (愁傷様です=しゅうしょう = shuushou, my friend explained to me that this expression is used to when someone dies or the situation is just to pitiful)

"Hmm ... I can make tea. Malik-san hasn't eaten yet, right? I'll make something, so you three eat too and then please go home."

"Oh, yes"

Apparently that was all, so I decided to make dinner after brewing tea.

There should be various ingredients in the refrigerator, so I wonder if I should look inside and decide on the menu.

"Yes. Today is a simple grated pork rice bowl, miso soup, and salad."

"" "Itadakimasu" ""

Everyone seemed to like what I made and ate quickly.

The grated pork bowl is made by dropping daikon radish on top of boiled and sliced meat then adding seasonings such as soy sauce and lemon juice. It's a solid but refreshing taste, so it's perfect for hot summers. When I was in Japan, I used to make it in the summer.

"As expected, Ren's food is delicious .... Oh, that's right. You guys, do you intend to not take quests for a while? "

"It's really delicious, isn't it? I intend to accept something once I've moved to my temporary residence ..."

Malik-san, who was eating ravenously, says as he remembered.

The three of them said we’d look for a house and wouldn’t take quests for a week.

I wonder… if there’s something good to accept.

However, since I became B rank, it is one rank up and down.

In other words, it seems that you can only receive quests from A rank to C rank,I can't take the F rank Lulu leaf collection quest anymore.

"That’s good then, some quests arrived that only you can take, 3 solo quests and one for a party, If you can, why don't you take them? "

"We still have a month before we go to the royal capital .... I'll decide after returning to the guild and checking the contents of the quest. Can Ren do the party quest too?"

"Ah, yes"

Sig-san answers, mhh but a party quest...

What is it like?

Are solo quests impossible for me

I’ll have to go to the guild and take a look tomorrow...

The three returned to the guild after getting permission to stay when Malik-san isn’t at night.

TN: Poor Sig...

Ahh It's here ＼(￣▽￣)／ I actually finished translating yesterday at like 5 AM (Because who needs sleep… ) but I was waiting for my friend to reply to my messages and it’s hard because of the time difference.

The previous translator liked to put food pictures whenever Ren cooked and as a foodie and someone who loves cooking, I really liked that so I decided to do it too!

I hope you liked it, I really like translating and it is fun also I learn so many new things.

Take care and if you see typos, grammar errors or whatever feel free to tell me, I want to do my best but English isn’t my first language and I’m still learning japanese.

#Alsar translation #alsar #Alsar c65

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dabistodorokitouya · 4 years ago

Text

Song: Kodaline - Brother

He has loved drugs, they numbed him and forget him the truth, pain for a long time. Only bad effect; his head was aching insanely and he also had to care with Shigaraki with that head. He looked at his phone, six hours had passed since he slept and Dabi's had to be a meeting two hours ago. At first, he thought to not go. He needn't have blabbered but when he read messages he gave up that. If he doesn't go, Shigaraki will be angrier. But he had to endure his creepy attitude. Also, he would have to look at the hand which addresses as his father. When he wanted Shigaraki could be terrible and Dabi loved his arms connected with hands.

He loved first five years in life, saw those memories gave him peace. But just that, five years. He hasn't seen old memories for a long time because of that he is surprised today. He wanted to remember his lovely mother; Watching tv with him and fondled his head. He threw away other memories to the background, he didn't need to them. He looked at the messages, except Shigaraki there was a message from a crazy girl. Although he found the girl's behavior silly, he couldn't say anything about her power. She had really useful quirk but although they met new she was sending messages to him about 'hang out together.' And that annoyed Dabi. But usually, everything would get on Dabi's nerves.

He had no problem about their personality as long as they didn't bother him. They could be as crazy as they wanted. Shigaraki Tomura, a madman who wore his family's hands on his face and body, was his boss, another was Twice, who acts an talks like a double person who couldn't recover from her trauma. The crazy girl Himiko Toga, on the other hand, was very fond of blood, the Spinner had nothing odd, but it was enough that is a lizard. He didn't know Compress that much but he and Kurogiri are among the most rational people in the group, he wouldn't deny that. They didn't seem like a very sane group, but to Dabi, whether their power was valuable was the only thing that mattered.

When he got to the bar he waited at its door for a minute or two. He took a deep breath and went in, he would need it. Shigaraki was waiting, leaning against the wall, his voice wasn't angry like it was in the messages. It was tired and boring. Himiko Toga was running around with a knife in his hand, Dabi wondered how long it would take him to stab one of the league members. Compress and Twice were sitting in the chair, drinking their drinks. Spinner was not around. Kurogiri, on the other hand, was as usual, ready for defense in case an incident broke out. Keeping them calm in a bar with a lot of villains was a real challenge, and Dabi and Shigaraki didn't help to this situation at all. After a few minutes of silence, Shigaraki was the first to speak, as always he was sarcastic.

"Do you know why the phone is used? For people can reach you. You're two hours late what is your excuse?"

Dabi shrugged his shoulders, his head ached too much to make fun of.

He responded with a reckless attitude.

"I fell asleep."

Shigaraki frowned but he kept silent. Apparently, he didn't have much energy either. The meeting must have continued a really long time, whereas he was pretty sure he was going to get a lot of death threats from Shigaraki right now. Shigaraki went upstairs without saying anything else. Kurogiri was defending Shigaraki as usual.

"Tomura's been sleepless for so long, he really wants this plan to work and I don't want a fight in my bar."

"What's that big plan you've decided on?"

Dabi's only wish now was to go back to bed just like Shigaraki, and he would exactly do that after learning the plans. He didn't want to listen to unnecessary things. Kurogiri had understood it easily, he sighed, Shigaraki and Dabi had some very similar habits. Of course, Dabi has always been more sarcastic than anyone else, nobody would be a patch on him on that matter.

"We learned that the 1 - A Hero class at UA would be training at summer camp, we're planning an attack, and Dabi your mission is very important at this point. You will lead the attack. Your mission is to bring Katsuki Bakugo and get him to join us."

Kurogiri gave him a picture of the child, the kid was standing angrily on a platform. He had a medal on his neck, Dabi now realized why the kid looked familiar. He was the winner of the sports festival, normally Dabi wouldn't care about the festival but he had watched as he was curious about his little brother Shoto. Shoto most likely didn't even remember Touya. Dabi wouldn't be surprised, that damn man would always separate him from everyone else. He couldn't stand his failures to be in his masterpieces way, it would be pretty normal for Shoto to not remember him, even if the two were so close. Shoto was six when he last saw his older brother, Touya.

Shoto was so strong, even when he was little it was obvious that he would become so strong in the future. Dabi admired Shoto for not using his fire, his left side. He was trying to teach that man a lesson by himself, Dabi appreciated his tenacity. But he started using his flames when he was fighting against a green-haired boy which made Dabi furious and suddenly lit the tv. He had to buy a new television. With that quirk of his, Dabi expected Shoto to be first, or so predicted. If the boy in the photo managed to defeat him, he had considerable power, which would explain why he got villains attention.

Also, the boy always seemed to be angry and angry at everyone, they even had to tie him up because he was causing a big problem. Even the boy's outfit was more like the villain than the hero, it was a disturbing move for heroes to silence him even though he won. Dabi was not surprised, he experienced firsthand how despicable heroes could be. Dabi's ultimate goal was to fulfill Stain's dream. He realized that Kurogiri was waiting for an answer from him, he put the picture back in place.

"It must have been difficult to learn this secret information, and the children would not be alone. How many professional heroes will there be? And who will be on the team?"

Out of the heroes, some of the children could have been a problem to them. They had to a plan carefully. The boy who were supposed to catch wasn't one to give up easily, he was going to force them and also they had to watch out two or three other students. After all, they were being trained for to be heroes of the future, it would be a wrong move to see them powerless. He didn't understand why they were in so much trouble just for a child, Dabi didn't have much hope that the child would join them and he didn't want to deal with an annoying brat. Toga was enough for him.

"Our research is saying Pussy Cats will be there. Eraser Head and Vlad King would definetly be there because they are teachers. Also Spinner, Muscular, Magne, Mustard, Moonfish, and a Nomu members of a Vanguard Action Squad. They will accompany to you. You're in charge of the team, and I believe you can handle the situation easily with your magnificent flames."

Dabi had not heard most of the names before. He would not care if they were captured, his mission was only to capture to child as a leader. If they were caught, it would show that they were incompetent and Dabi didn't need incompetents. He was intrigued by Nomu, it was valuable creature who pushed All Might hard but he was confused that he was going to lead the group, he was expecting Shigaraki to do it.

"I'm a leader, ha? Are you sure Shigaraki is happy with this situation?"

"Shigaraki won't be in that mission, so am I. But I'll be waiting to get you back here when your work will done."

Shigaraki's absence made him suspicious but he was happy, he didn't need him to be bossy. They had just an argument because Dabi didn't say his real name, he had too much headache to get into another one. He left the bar right after Kurogiri told them when they were going to attack, after leaving the bar his headache was lessened a little. After a long walk he returned to his apartment, immediately making his way to the bathroom. Some staples had to be replaced, he grimaced. He hated the process even though years had passed, fortunately there wasn't many staples to replace. After he is done with the process he cleaned up and went to bed. He hated being sober because he couldn't stand remembering his past all the time. Even after many years he couldn't forget what that man said to him.

You're worthless, Touya. You are not important.

He wasn't Touya anymore, he had rejected that name for the past eight years. Right now, he is Dabi. But Touya's past was still bothering him, he couldn't escape his past. No matter how hard he tried, those memories were always there. The drugs on his nightstand at the end of his bed were screaming at him. Dabi was an addict and he wouldn't deny it, he sighed. The following days would be busy with the mission, now was the time. Most likely the effects of the doses which he took today would last for days but Dabi was used to pain, Touya had learned the pain when he was five.

Touya was almost nine years old and he was still continuing to his training, but his father had a lot of work to do for Christmas, and he didn't come home very much these days. Natsuo's quirk had been revealed much earlier than expected, for their father now Natsuo had been declared an inadequate child. Natsuo had an ice quirk, just like Fuyumi and his mother, and Touya had begun to wish that nowadays.

He wasn't a person what his father's wanted, and he couldn't use his power long time. If he have had ice quirk, his father would have never dealt with his and he could have been with his siblings. He once remembered that he was happy to have the same quirk with his father, those memories seemed to stupid him now. Natsuo and Fuyumi looked just like their mother, Touya was very unhappy. Her turquoise eyes were no longer filled with joy as they used to be, they were hurt and sad. He hated the color of his hair. If he had looked like more like his mother, his quirk would have been like that. Fuyumi and Natsuo look like their mother. Touya look like their father, and he had taken his power.

Her mother was fading as the days passed, she lost her old shine. Since Touya's father started to get more tough in training, his mother was trying to block their father. His father was always angry with him and telling her to leave them alone but if she refused, his father would hit him. His mother couldn't take it any longer, she was leaving the room with crying. His father blaming their mother for the children's failure. When Touya wanted to give up in training, he always told him that he was weak like Rei. Touya wanted to yell at him and talked about their mother was how wonderful, strong, good but he just kept quiet. Maybe he was weak, like he said.

His mother had tried for him for months and now she had given up, she couldn't stop their father in any way. All she could do was care with Touya's injuries and that hurt her a lot. Since Endeavor wasn't home, Touya could do whatever he wanted all day, that was a luxury he wasn't used to. He clearly didn't know what would do, he had no idea what else to do as he had spent all his days with training. But then his mother came next to him and told him that his siblings were playing in the garden so he could join them. While his father was away, he liked his mother's behavior more, his mother was smiling like before and she was confident.

He couldn't believe Natsuo was three years old, he was huge. Touya was certainly aware that he didn't look like a nine-year-old, he looked like a six-year-old at most. He was weaker than before, as the doctor said his flames weren't good for his body. Although Natsuo was only three years old he was taller and larger than his, unlike Fuyumi and Touya, he had the body of their father. When he looked at Fuyumi a little more carefully, he realized that she was two or three inches taller than he was. It was unfair, Touya started sulking, he was the biggest but he looked like the smallest. His mother looked at him with laughing, like she knew what he was thinking.

Touya was very angry these days, often easily angry at everything, but then for a moment, he was acting as nothing had happened. Usually, his anger wasn't directed at her or his brothers, but Rei didn't understand why. Only sometimes she saw anger in Touya's eyes, that spark of anger was always there, even if he didn't reflect on them. Rei didn't like it, he was a kid, he shouldn't have had anger in his eyes. But sometimes Touya was so kind, Rei would have trouble believing that those angry eyes belonged to Touya.

Touya's feelings were becoming more deranged as the days pass. He was acting like a child when he was with his siblings and that was making Rei happy. She couldn't stop giggling when she saw Touya's jealousy and sulk on his face. Rei loved the winter, she loved the freshness and the breeze on her skin. Christmas was something she loved when she was little, but she loved it more than before because her husband wasn't in home and her children were so happy. Touya came down the stairs with timid steps. Touya was not close with Fuyumi for a long time and he hardly knew Natsuo. Fuyumi and Natsuo were playing ball together but they stopped when they saw Touya. Fuyumi was a very moving, cheerful girl. She immediately hugged Touya, or rather jumped on him.

"Hey Yumi, you're choking me."

"So you're our big brother, aren't you too skinny to be a big brother? Skinny brother, I like that."

Touya had seen Natsuo last year, and since then Natsuo had grown even bigger. Touya had begun to doubt that he was getting smaller and smaller. Natsuo went to Touya's next and hugged him and said to him he was really skinny, big brother.Then, he walked away from Touya and threw the ball at him with his foot. Touya was suddenly surprised as he tried to throw the ball he lost his balance and fell. Natsuo started to made fun of him over this incident. Touya also began laughing over the incident. Rei was watching these events happily from above.

Natsuo was curious about his brother's quirk, his mother told him he has a strong fire quirk. He wanted to see if they are strong enough as their father. He thought it would be better to show his quirk first and froze the ball. His sister suddenly yelled at him.

"Hey Natsu, that's not nice, you shouldn't freeze everything with your quirk. We can't change it to its former situation, thanks to you!"

Touya did not understand why he did these, may he had done it mistakenly. After all, Natsuo's quirk was just here for a few months. it was obvious that he was always freezing somethings from his words. Touya didn't want these moments to pass with controversy, he took the ball and let the fire blaze out on his hands. Fuyumi and Natsuo froze like a deer in the headlights, they both knew fire strength was strong but they would never think that the fire can be blue. The fire on Touya's hand was not strong enough but it was enough to melt some ice immediately. Both children reacted like "wow", it was fascinating to see the power of fire. Touya liked his siblings' reaction, they impressed to their big brother. All the kids stopped playing with the ball and started to freeze every corner of a freaking garden like Elsa from frozen. Touya kept returning everything back to normal without gave up and this game didn't stop until they got tired. He wasn't sure if he can have a good time with his siblings on future, Touya's wish never changed: his mother and his father be happy together, were spending time with his siblings all day... Shortly all his wish was a happy family but neither Touya nor Dabi wouldn't have this. That innocent, harmless, happy child's feelings just got destroyed and when he is eighteen, Dabi completely destroyed Touya. Touya was just a child that only saw on his dreams...

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