#There's still more after this but it has gotten a little fanart-heavy again I never would've guessed lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

insfiringyou · 3 years ago

Text

BTS - Going Solo (Part One) - Jimin x Ara

Contains: Angst. *Potential trigger warning for descriptions of panic attacks*

Set a few months following their scene in ‘Private Moments’, Ara is faced with a decision which will change the course of her future.

(Part Two will be uploaded soon, after a few fics focusing on some of the other members.)

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook & our full masterlist of fanart and fanfictions can be found here

If you wish to follow all member’s storylines in chronological order from the beginning, you can find them listed here.

Content below the cut

‘Jimin,

We just spoke, and you asked if I was happy. I think I am. At least most days.’

Ara typed slowly. Her nails had just been manicured and were longer than she was used to. The sound of acrylics against the keyboard rang through the small hotel room.

‘When I’m with you I can feel really happy. You can be so sweet and loving and I appreciate you always check up on me - to make sure I’m okay. Touring is hard. You know it better than anybody else, and you tried to prepare me for it.’

She gave a soft sigh, knowing no one else would hear. The words were spilling out of her fingers before her brain had time to catch up, though she knew based on experience she would eventually work out what she was trying to say. The room was dark and the white glow from the word document was starting to make her eyes water. The contact lenses had been in all day and were getting on her nerves. Still, she persevered. She could remove them once she had finished.

‘I’ve been asked to renew my contract.’

She stopped typing, heart thudding, and realised she felt scared. Her hand moved automatically to her stomach and she exhaled slowly before taking a deep, drawn out breath. She had been practicing and it had gotten easier. At first she would panic, and find her chest rising and falling like crazy, on the verge of hyperventilation, but soon she learned the trick; it was her stomach which was supposed to be moving, not her chest. Her cheeks were a little warm and she knew it was shame she was feeling, not embarrassment. She hadn’t told him yet, despite having known for over a week. Tentatively, she continued, fingers picking up speed as she became used to the sensation of the new nails.

‘You remember me telling you the first was on a trial basis, based on sales. Well - whatever target they set for us, we must have hit it. Even you have noticed the increase in publicity lately...the T.V appearances. They’ve asked me to film a reality show. I don’t know what they’re expecting.’

Her brow furrowed, wondering...

‘I guess they might have asked you too?’

The laptop stayed silent for a long time and she rested her hands against the small, cheap desk as she gazed at the screen. Her mind suddenly seemed blank and she felt stupid. She would never send the document to Jimin, just as she hadn’t sent the ones she had written before; three month’s worth of unopened, worthless ramblings saved in some obscure folder on her desktop, trapped in the harddrive somewhere between her acoustic recordings and photographs of hairstyles she had saved from Pinterest. She often wondered why she even bothered to save them. Her counsellor had told her, time and time again, that keeping a diary would be helpful. She could record her mood swings and track her periods, along with keeping count of what she ate; wholegrains made her bloated, red food colourings brought out a rash. She sometimes worried she might be lactose intolerant, though could handle it in coffee. That type of thing. She kept it up at first; bashfully bringing the sparkly diary into the small office she visited once a month and reciting what she had written to the man opposite. He would nod sympathetically as she spoke, making a comment from time to time; asking how she felt about what she had put. But the company was paying him to do this; all the girls went, and she sometimes wondered if it was the food diary he was really interested in. If her manager was keeping track, making sure she and the other members were not overdoing it on the full-fat salad dressing and milky lattes.

The diary entries began to dwindle and, not long after her last week-long visit back to Seoul, the meaningless letters on her laptop started. They were usually addressed to Jimin, though she had written several to her father and one to her brother. She wasn’t good with words; she had been told that often enough at school when she would have to read out loud from the book of the week in Literature, or come up with an argument in Business Studies. Her mouth would stumble and she’d turn red, both ashamed and humiliated, until the teacher inevitably took pity on her and told her to sit back down. Writing in private was much easier, especially when she knew no one but her would see.

‘I don’t know how to feel.’

The cursor hovered, blinking at the end of the last line. There was a heavy knock at the door and Ara jumped, hands automatically reaching for the laptop lid, before a familiar female voice called out.

“Ara? Are you coming?”

She quickly gathered herself, clicking the save icon at the top of the screen. The company had arranged a group meal in the restaurant downstairs, though she had forgotten, her mind distracted by more pressing thoughts.

“In a minute…I just need to change my lenses.” She called back, moving her finger against the touchpad as a pop-up appeared. She selected the save button once more, mouth twisting as she read the title in the little window: ‘Untitled #12.’ She wondered if she would ever get around to renaming them properly.

***

“Your hair has so much texture. I wish mine were thicker.”

Ara murmured in reply before catching the young stylist’s reflection in the mirror and realising how rude she must have sounded. Da-eun had come to the company some months before and was undeniably sweet. Too sweet, Ara sometimes thought, for the business she was in. The other makeup artists and hairdressers loved to keep one ear to the wall, in case there was a chance of promotion or, she rather cynically suspected, a way to increase their pay by selling gossip, but Da-eun didn’t seem like that. At least not yet.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ara smiled into the glass at the figure behind her. “I’m glad I have you to do it for me. The roots are a nightmare!”

Da-eun returned the smile and seemed to relax, but a curious expression still played on her features as she ran the straightener gently across the dyed tips of hair. “Are you tired?”

“I didn’t get much sleep.” Ara confirmed, briefly closing her eyes. Da-eun knew not to press her, but she couldn’t help but worry the younger woman might know more than she was letting on. They had shared hotel rooms in the past and, perhaps it was the stylist's instinct, used to paying close attention to detail, but she always seemed to tell when something was amiss. It was frustrating sometimes.

“I looked at the schedule. You’re not going on set until last so you’ll have time to rest before you go out.” Da-eun murmured helpfully. Ara nodded, relieved. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that Da-eun should quit while she could; while she was still young and hopeful and kind.

“I just don’t have the energy right now…” Ara sighed as she felt her hair being released. The younger woman finished working the ends and unplugged the device from the dressing room table.

“Did you sign the contract yet?”

Her voice was inquisitive and a little optimistic. Ara had never asked, but there was always the chance that Da-eun’s contract was somehow tied to her own; that if the group were to disband, she might lose her job. Ara shook her head lightly.

“No.”

Da-eun raised an eyebrow. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I just haven’t had time to read it properly.” She said, truthfully. “It’s come around sooner than I thought…”

The stylist moved forward, reaching for the set of hairbrushes on the counter, before selecting the biggest. She teased through the ends of hair with her short fingers before brushing lightly along the bleached roots, smoothing the locks.

“There’s been rumours.” The younger woman said, voice suddenly low as though she were worried about being overheard. A thick curtain set apart the dressing room from the photography studio, but it was always possible someone was listening.

Ara blinked, tensing a little. “What?”

Da-eun smiled gently. “That you’re making a solo album.”

“Oh…” The older woman wasn’t sure what she had expected, but this news took her by surprise. “I wasn’t planning on it.” She shrugged.

“That’s a relief.” Da-eun beamed with a small laugh. “I’m looking forward to going home soon. Aren’t you?”

Ara opened her mouth to speak, not sure what she was going to say, but the curtain beside them drew apart suddenly; startling them both.

“Oh! Costume change…” Da-eun exclaimed, setting down the brush and turning to accommodate the older woman who had just entered. Mimi was a year older than Ara and usually less prone to accidents, but the leather strap on her camisole suggested a wardrobe malfunction which needed attending to at once.

“Sorry to interrupt…” The other woman murmured apologetically, gesturing to Da-eun. “Could you fix this for me?”

“Sure.” She nodded, stepping away.

Ara’s phone had vibrated against her thigh twenty minutes before but she hadn’t wanted to risk opening the text, especially with someone standing over her shoulder. As Da-eun seated Mimi in the rotating chair on the opposite side of the room to take a look at her costume, Ara took the moment to slip the device from her pocket and flick through the recent notifications. Unsurprisingly, it had been Jimin who had texted and she read the sentence a couple of times before returning it to her pocket.

‘Two more weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing you. It’s been too long.’

***

Ara sipped from the glass, the cool water clearing her throat and offering a much needed refreshment from the events of the day. Her voice had become raspy from singing, but luckily she didn’t need it to type.

‘Jimin,

I was cleaning my closet before we went on tour and found the dress I was wearing on the night we met.’

She found herself smiling, a little longingly, at the memory, a strange anecdote coming to mind.

‘It still has a Daiquiri stain on the hem and it’s too big for me now. I don’t know why I’m saving it.’

The thought made her sad, somehow.

‘I wonder if you remember that night as clearly as I do. I didn’t want to leave. I knew you were with someone else, but I didn’t care.’

A deep frown played on her otherwise gentle features.

‘Does that make me a bad person?’

It wasn’t until she read the line back, she realised the thought had never occurred to her before. Not once in five years. She wondered why it suddenly seemed to matter. With a sigh, she continued, committing her trail of thoughts to the page.

‘You told me it was over the next time we met, and I believed you, but part of me wondered if you’d go back to her, once you knew how inexperienced I was. I guess I know how you feel sometimes. The whole thing has taken me by surprise as well. I never felt like anyone would want me.’

Her chest ached as she typed the final sentence; overwhelmed by emotion. It was true that the compliments and flirty glances she often received were met with an automatic but fleeting sense of glee. It felt novel, after so long of feeling like she didn’t deserve it. It sometimes still felt that way; back in the hotel room, after the cheers of the crowd had faded. She had brought the subject up with her company counsellor who had laughed it off, explaining that everyone suffered with imposter syndrome from time to time; she wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. On the matter of flirting, she had kept that one to herself. It felt too personal and she was sure it would come across as vain. Occasionally it was unwarranted; the older mens’ eyes moving down her legs when she took to the stage in a short skirt back in Seoul, or the way she jumped in alarm when someone once slipped their hand down the back of her jeans while she stood tightly packed in an elevator in Osaka. But other times she found her heart racing and stomach churning; not thinking of Jimin until she tucked herself in bed at night. A pretty, tall waitress brushing her hand as she handed over the bill in a Thai restaurant, or the hotel doorman who had helped her move her luggage earlier in the week and smiled kindly at her in the lobby. She knew Jimin, of all people, would understand. She had seen the way he played the audience, like he had a secret to share with them all. Early in their relationship it had made her crazy; the way he seemed to flirt with anyone he came into contact with, often without even realising. But now the tables had turned. He would understand; but she wasn’t sure he would accept it.

She glanced a warily at the shadowy corner of the room where an oversized bouquet of red roses sat on the dresser. They had arrived earlier to the hotel room, along with a postcard sized letter from her manager. He had been unable to make the trip to Taiwan but was waiting for her in Tokyo; the contract was ready, whenever she was ready to sign. The flowers seemed like a bribe; the gesture leaving a sour taste in her mouth. She wondered if the other two girls had received any, or if the privilege was all hers.

The sound of her ringtone, a chirpy, summer tune, alerted her to the fact that an hour had already passed and it was getting late. She quickly swiped the screen and raised it to her ear, not wanting to wake up the neighbours.

“Hello?”

There was a pause before Jimin spoke. “How are you?”

“Good.” She squinted at her watch with a frown. “What time is it there?”

“2am.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” She asked, a little baffled. He hadn’t called her this late in a while.

“I only just got in. There was a company dinner.” He explained. “What are you up to?”

She hesitated. “Just thinking.”

He laughed, softly mocking her. “Just thinking?”

She shook her head, dismissing it. “Oh, it’s nothing…I was drying my hair.” She lied, fingering the ends of the bone-dry locks in an automatic response. “Da-eun dyed the tips purple for the photoshoot.”

“I liked the pink.” He groaned, a little sulkily.

“They thought purple would fit better with the concept photos.” She mumbled deflatedly. “It’s not really my choice.”

“You could change it when you come home.” He said hopefully. She heard the flirtatious grin in his voice and could picture his smile on the other end. “They can’t do anything about it once your contract has ended.”

“Maybe.”

She sounded distant and he noticed the change at once.

“Are you okay?”

She closed her eyes tightly, temporarily blocking out the glare from the laptop screen. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

“Did you take a look at the brochures I emailed you?”

“I haven’t had time. I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.” She knew she sounded a little irritated but was unable to mask it. The weight of the day suddenly seemed to dawn on her and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. The last thing she wanted to talk about was moving house.

“I’d really like you to help.” He argued lightly. “There’s a three bedroom going for sale on the Han River. Yoongi says it’s a good deal.”

Ara sighed. “I’m sure he’s right.”

A pause.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I wish you’d stop asking.” She pleaded, feeling on the verge of tears. Jimin seemed to hear the tremor in her voice and thought for a long moment before he spoke, tentatively.

“Maybe you should ask the doctor to change your medication again.”

Ara clutched the phone tightly. “It’s fine.” She tried to smile, hoping it would show in her voice. “I’m feeling much better, just tired.”

“Is that a side effect?”

He sounded concerned and she nodded to herself, though she knew full well she hadn’t taken the time to read the little leaflet properly. “Probably. Maybe I just need some sleep.”

“Okay.” He agreed, though she sensed his trepidation. “I’d better go then.”

He sounded disappointed and Ara felt guilty once more. “I’m sorry Jimin.” She apologised softly. “It really was nice that you called. It’s just these time zones…”

“I understand.”

She wondered if he did. Her eyes felt damp beneath her heavy, false eyelashes, making them itch. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

***

She had forgotten her contact lenses and had to rummage through her Birkin to retrieve her reading glasses. They felt strange on her nose and she wondered how she had ever made it through high school wearing them. At least she had been given a moment’s peace to read through the contract. The office overlooked Ueno Station and the rush of traffic below would be too distracting had someone also been watching her.

‘As a permanent member of the label you should not bring the company into disrepute…’

She read carefully, though the paperwork seemed much larger than the last one she had signed. Some of the phrases looked familiar, such as the declaration of her dedication to being a ‘brand ambassador’, but others were definitely new. Her gaze hovered over one line:

‘...should not jeopardize future success…not limited to personal relationships, controversial thought or opinion including strong ties to political associations, ideologies or groups.’

She expected no less, particularly after Mimi was caught on camera reading a Betty Friedan book. The first part was more complicated and she wondered if Jimin’s management had asked something similar of him.

With a sigh, she continued down the page, skimming the text now but picking up on key words which seemed important, ‘Maintain a visible and transparent social media presence….Agree to the screening and management of said accounts with the view of protecting our artists and their wellbeing.’

By the time she reached the end, it did not seem to matter and there was a strange comfort in realising this. The past three years had been carefully planned, organised, operated; her future written for her from the moment she stepped foot on stage for the first time. The moments of quiet between shows, or during her increasingly short stays back in Seoul, only seemed to complicate things further. Her thoughts were a mess whenever she stopped to breathe for a moment, and maybe it was easier to shut them off altogether; to give over all control and decision-making to someone else than to try and deal with them all herself.

The fountain pen was heavier than she expected as she picked it off the table. It had the company brand embossed on the side in gold-leaf which seemed to reflect the fading light outside as the sun set below the concrete structure of the art museum to the West. Slowly, she signed her name on the final page; the ink blotting a little as she moved aside the bound file and repeated the motion on the second copy. The second attempt was neater as she grew used to the feel of the pen in her hand. There was a knack to it; just like many of the things she had grown to learn in her adult life; underwear should be washed on the delicate cycle, t-shirts should be turned inside out before they are ironed, glasses should not be left in the sink too long, should they smash. She had an assistant to do those things now, and her clothes were mostly dry cleaned these days.

She neatened the piles of paper and put the lid back on the pen, so the ink wouldn’t dry. The first contract had been signed in black Biro, which hadn’t come with such demands. Reaching down, she picked up her black handbag and carefully folded her personal copy, slipping it between her lipstick and glasses case before adding the pen. She had probably paid for it anyway; in her own way. The green light on her phone was blinking and she slid it from the pouch in the lining. The text had arrived while she was in the meeting, which is why she hadn’t heard her phone go off. Her thumb paused over the messenger button for a moment, before she tapped the screen lightly; Jimin’s name and picture coming into view in the little window above the text.

‘One more week! :)’

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

& Our full masterlist of fics and original art can be found here

& Our masterlist of preferences/most likely to/quizzes and fun stuff is here

You can support us by buying admins a coffee here (if you wish). :)

26 notes · View notes

itsmoonphobic · 4 years ago

Text

Since so many poeple liked my sleepy bois royal au I wanted to share a little one shot of the best bois :3 Also feel free to share your own headcanons and if you want you can make fanart!Just make sure to credit and tag me when you post something related to it!I appreciate every single one of you for the amount of positive feedback I have been receiving!!Love you all!Oh and the first chapter is going to be released soon on ao3! I will also be reconsidering the idea of posting it here on tumblr after a request to do so!👀

👑"Golden Fingerprints"👑

The blond boy stopped dangling his legs and slowly looked at the pink haired king infront of him.Techno's back was facing Tommy while the exhausted king struggled to keep his eyes open.His fingers slowly pushed up his loosely hung glasses that have fallen on the bridge of his nose.Techno didn't even take the slightest notice of the younger boy burning holes at the back of his head.He was too focused and way too tired to pay attention to anything happening around him.Tommy had bugged the elder if he was allowed to help him with his work,which Techno hesitantly agreed with as along as Tommy took it seriously.

Unsurprisingly Tommy couldn't focus for more than ten minutes so he just decided to hang around in Techno's room while the king took care of his tasks.Both Wilbur and Phil came to check on them and when they witnessed Techno groggily sitting at his desk and practically banging his head against the pile of papers and books forming on the dark oak table,they shared a simple amused glance and left the two alone.Not before Wil teased Tommy about him being so wild and unfocused,which resulted in Tommy almost charging at Wilbur and starting a huge ass fight. The warning look from Phil managed to stop both of them.

Tommy eyed the older man carefully.How is he able to pull himself together and stay focused for over four hours? The younger boy truly admired the king in every way possible, though he did also feel the slightest bit of jealousy.A small yawn brought Tommy out of his thoughts.He watched as the pink haired man took of his glasses and messily rubbed his face while groaning loudly.Tommy didn't say anything, he expected Techno to turn around and send him out of his room so he could relax in peace but instead Techno took off his crown and set it aside laying down his head on the hard surface of the wooden platform.

The much needed sleep immediately took over his senses and the pink haired King drifted off into a deep slumber. Tommy could only wonder if it is a dreamless one or not.He wasn't sure why Techno didn't send him out,did he forget that Tommy was still in the same room??Pushing his thoughts aside Tommy let his eyes wonder to the golden object next to the now sleeping Techno.The gold shimmerd under the pale illuminating light of the sun.The different colored jewels reflected themselves brightly.

A sneaky idea popped into Tommy's head as he propped himself up and precisely snuck over to the king's desk. Tommy lightly waved his hand infront of Techno's closed eyes to make sure that he did indeed fall asleep and not only taking a small break.Shallow and steady breathing confirmed that the king was in fact sleeping.Tommy tried his best not to break out into a fit of laughter as he continued with his plan.

He grazed his fingers along the heavy jewelry piece and gently took it in his hands.Tommy took a moment to quietly admire the object he was holding.It was heavier than he had imagined it to be but it was definitely screaming power and glory.The blue eyed boy glanced in Techno's direction one more time before quickly walking over to the door and closing it silently behind him.A wide grin tugged at his thin lips once he actually processed what was happening.

Techn-The king's crown was located in his grip.Tommy leaned his back against the desk matching oak door and took in all the details and features of the golden beauty.He noticed a small crack and a missing piece in two different gems.Tommy wondered what situations caused this.He snorted at the thought of Techno doing something as stupid like dropping it or tripping and making it fall.But he simply couldn't accept those facts so instead he imagined him having some sort of epic battle in which he turned out victorious.

"And what exactly are you planning to do with that?"

Tommy jumped at the sudden voice nearly dropping the important object.The younger turned his head to the direction of the familiar voice.His blue eyes landed on none other then musician boy,Wilbur.Tommy rolled his eyes proudly holding the crown infront of him.

"None of your buisness guitar boy-" Tommy retorted already trying to leave the scene.Wilbur on the other hand, was about to stop him but the wish to see the king's reaction to his missing crown would be priceless-

"Whatever you say." Wilbur reassured.Tommy eyed him suspiciously as the older simply shrugged and turned on his heels,Tommy followed his movements but after Wil turned a corner he kept going,the golden head piece safely secured in a tight grip.

~👑~

His dark blue eyes(Fun fact Techno actually said that his eyes are indeed blue but they appear darker in different lightning!)fluttered open,the sun that was slowly disappearing behind the mountain horizons stinging his sight.Techno shut his eyes once again,this time not peacefully like he did before but reflexively and annoyingly. He adjusted his vision to the bright star and yawned loudly. His eyes fell apon the mess of books and papers on his desk where he just rose his head of.He cringed as he remembered how he fell asleep even though he didn't finish all of it.Techno's eyes scanned the room once his mind registered that Tommy was in his room during all of it.

After finding no signs of the younger in his room the pink haired ruler figured out that Tommy himself must have gotten bored and tired and left to sleep.He sleepily got up and stretched his tired limbs,the sound of him cracking his joints following right behind.That was another bad habit Techno happend to do on a daily basis,and Phil constantly had to remind him that it's unhealthy.

Techno was about to grab his beloved crown and return it where it belongs to put his palm was met with an empty surface.He blinked in disbelief as he clearly remembered that he placed it there before sleep took over.Nervousness washed over him as he started searching for his crown all over his room.Under the desk,on his bookshelves,maybe under the bed aswell?But the golden object was no where to be found- Techno started to panic.Where was it?Did someone steal it?The pink haired king clutched his fists, slamming both of them against the wooden desk making some of the books and papers fall off.

A soft knock on Techno's door made the king snap his head in the direction towards the sound.A small "come in" escaped his mouth as he waited for the person to step foot inside his bedroom.Phil's head poked inside first,he wanted to make sure not to be too hasty around his friend.

"Hey man,just wanted to check up on you."

Techno forced a smile onto his face but the constant thought of his crown being stolen kept him from doing so. Phil noticed his strange behavior and walked over to him. He gently placed his hand on Techno's shoulders and immediately feeling the tension in them.Techno twitched slightly at the sudden contact of another person but didn't make any movements to stop Phil from touching him.

"You okay man?There is so much tension in your shoulders"

Techno looked at Phil with frustrated eyes:"My crown is gone,someone stole my crown Phil."He made sure to clarify the part about it being stolen specifically.Phil blinked in suprised as he took in what his best friend just told him.

"Was there somebody else in the room with you when you took it off?"Phil questioned already preparing to set off and look for the thief.Both Techno and he were going to make them pay for stealing the crown of the king.Techno shook his head:"I'm pretty sure that no one except Tommy was in the roo-"He stopped mid sentence,eyes widening.The angry king threw on his crimson cloak with the faux white fur decorating it.Phil watched with confusion but also interest as he slowly caught on to where Techno was heading.

"You don't actually believe Tommy stole it do you?" Phil asked his best friend as they walked side by side through the castle halls.Techno's stern gaze was focused infront of him,but he still answered Phil's question while the older laughed at the thought of Tommy stealing Techno's crown. He has to admit,he would be pretty impressed if the younger boy actually managed to pull that off without Techno killing him,which Techno would obviously never even attempt but still,pretty funny to think about.

"Who else is stupid enough to do something like that Phil?"

Phil's laughter came to a stop when he realized that Techno might be right about this situation. "Holy shit you might be right about this-" Phil muttered in amusement.Techno only rolled his eyes gathering around a few of his royal guards, including Phil,and made sure to tell them that they need to start a carriage to take him down town,becouse Techno already had a pretty good feeling where Tommy might have went to brag about it.

~👑~

"Holy fuck!How did you manage to get that thing!?"

"Tommy this is insane!How did you get you hands on it!?"

"Did you actually sneak in the castle or some shit like that?"

"The king probably wants you with a bounty on your head-"

Tommy only smirked,gladly welcoming all of the compliments and awestruck questions coming his way.On top of his head he proudly presented the king's crown,his pride and joy that Tommy managed to steal.He knew very well though that if Techno finds out he could only hope and pray that he stays alive long enough to explain himself.A shudder ran down his spine as he was't interested in dealing with a mad King Blade.He never saw him truly angry,but his stolen crown is properly a good reason for it to happen.

"Guys guys,please one after another!I'll answer all of your questions gladly!"

Tommy wanted to carry on with his attention shower but he only received terrified expressions and silence.

"Guys?Hellooooo?" He waved his hands infront of their faces,but their eyes were focused on something apparently more coller than the king's crown.Tommy's best friend Toby stepped slightly forward grabbing the blond boy by his shoulders and turning him around.

Tommy found himself staying perfectly still.His muscles tensed and his heart started to pound,it felt as it was about to burst out of his chest.He swallowed hard and released a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding in.His trembling hands slowly wandered to his mop of blond fluff and he lightly removed the golden object away from it.He chuckled nervously as he felt the scary glare coming from the pink haired royalty.Techno stood now infront of the blond boy tapping his foot on the dusty ground impatiently. His hands were crossed over his chest and his brows were furrowed together.His eyes glued themselves onto Tommy, more precisely the golden crown in his hands.

Phil stood next to Techno shaking his head amused at the clearly awkward and scary tension between the two men.All the other guards stood a few feet away next to carriage watching and waiting patiently for their king to make his next move or atleast to let out a few words Techno watched Tommy twirl his foot into the dirty ground avoiding his gaze.The king lightly shook his head at the immature acts of Tommy but then again he was only sixteen years young and had alot to learn and witness for him to decide the correct decisions.

"Tommy." Techno warned,his deep and raspy voice dangerously low.Tommy shivered at the scary tone the king used on him.His pale blue eyes locked with Techno's deep blue ones."Technoo!How's it going buddy!How did you sleep?" Tommy questioned the elder with a crooked grin. All of Tommy's friends watched in horror at the way he addressed the king himself so nonchalantly by his birth name.They kept telling him to apologize if he doesn't wanna end up six feet under or even worse,and the fact that he was still holding his crown made it even worse.

Tommy quickly turned to his friends reassuring them that he's "got this" and "no need to worry".Techno still waited for Tommy to make the first move and step closer,but it was very clear that the poor boy was afraid to move,but he somehow still had the guts to talk so casually with him but that didn't really bother Techno since he allowed Tommy to talk to him in that way.The pink haired man sighed,pinching the bridge of his nose together."Tommy if you give me the crown now I'll let you of the hook,okay?" Techno smirked.

Tommy's eyes widened and he cautiously eyed him up and down while carefully taking a few steps towards the king. He was now standing directly infront of Techno with him towering atleast 2 heads over him.Techno held out his hand while Tommy shamefully handed over the golden crown. Techno smiled happily as he admired the crown now back in his hands.He trailed over all the cracks and jewels relaxing after receiving it back the way he remembered it.

Tommy looked at the ground still managing to catch as Techno excitingly placed the crown on his pink hair.The king's chest rose proudly at the feeling of his power sign. Tommy internally rolled his eyes becouse he knew that doing that would ruin the atmosphere even more.Phil only continued to watch them fully caught up by the amusement that he didn't notice the king smacking Tommy at the back of his head causing the younger to yelp.

"What in the world were you thinking?!" Techno asked him seriously upset.Tommy rubbed his aching neck from the hard slap on it.He shrugged and explained that he wanted to show it off to his friends.Techno could have already figured that the reason behind the things Tommy does are usually brainless and simple.He sighed and whispered something to Phil.Phil laughed lightly and nodded.He turned to his coworkers and shouted that they should get the horses ready to carry them back to the castle.Phil patted Techno on the shoulder and winked at Tommy while he walked over to the carriage and stepped inside.

Everyone was waiting for Techno and Tommy to return so they could get going,which didn't take long.Tommy excused himself from his friends and started walking towards the vehicle,Techno following suit.All the kids watched in shock as Tommy carelessly jumped in the carriage and talked to the guards.Toby waved at him as the horses started moving yelling to Tommy that he should visit them again tomorrow.Tommy frinned widely yelling back that he totally will.

The ride back to the castle was like always.Techno couldn't stay mad at Tommy for long.Like I said(I just broke the fourth wall upps-)he has a soft spot for children.And since he has a special bond with Tommy and treats him as his own son he can't act the way his father did with him.Techno made Tommy promise him to ask for his permission before he took the crown and that he could only wear it around the castle and not through the whole tavern.Tommy happily agreed to the rules and pinky promised him to always ask Techno for the golden piece of jewelry before taking it.

The king,the gaurd and the misfit all carried on with their conversations,mostly just Tommy ranting on about his day and how he was shocked at the amount of focus ability has even due to him having adhd.Techno would tease Tommy back always coming up with a great comeback which made Phil laugh hysterically.Tommy couldn't help the smile on his face even if the teasing comeback was for him.His blue eyes lit up once he saw the crown restored on his original owners head.It was as if the crown was ment for his head. Tommy looked out the carriage window quietly listening to the running hooves of the horses and the chatter between the king and his guard.

The only thing on the crown that Tommy left behind were now his golden fingertips.

THIS TOOK WAAAAAY TO LONG!But It was definitely worth it!I hope you guys enjoyed this little one shot I wrote!Like I said I'm currently working on the first official chapter of the fanfic so this was only a little side project.The chapter release will probably take a while since my family and I just moved houses and we are still pretty busy!!👑☀️ I'll do my best though and keep you updated!!Love u <3

132 notes · View notes

1magine-engine · 4 years ago

Text

1404 (Prologue)

Fandom: Haikyuu!! Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Youtuber Reader Words: 1500+ Posted: 26/11/20

Song(s) Featured: Moon on the Water by The Dying Breed (from Beck MCS)

“It’s actually really exciting.”

Tetsuro nods, knowing Kenma means it, whatever he’s talking about. Probably something about Bouncing Ball corp. and the new game they have in development. Really, Kenma hasn’t stopped talking about it since the project started almost half a year ago and while Tetsuro is interested enough to usually listen to him rave and gush, today’s just not that kind of day.

“-and the new voice actor I have in mind is really good. We save a lot of time and money cause they speak in both languages.”

Yup, they’re probably phenomenal if Kenma is so easy to compliment them. Tetsuro racks his brain trying to remember who he’s talking about.

“I’m actually thinking about having her as a guest on stream soon.”

Uh huh.

“Oh and I’m also going to shave my head and give my hair to that middle school girl who won’t stop messaging.”

Good for them.

“Okay, how many of those have you had today?”

Tetsuro looks down at the cup of coffee he’s forgotten he’s holding. “Uh…” his brows furrow and it’s enough for Kenma to pry the cup out of his hand and set it on the far end of the table.

“And you’re always telling me to get proper sleep.” Kenma gives him a look, sipping on his own drink. He exits Discord, Tetsuro’s sagging back, drooping shoulders and lifeless eyes, more concerning than his followers’ Rule 34 fanart. “Seriously are you okay man? Have you been sleeping? At all?”

Tetsuro shakes his head, the mere mention of sleep enough to slump him over the table completely. As far as he knows, a waiter hadn’t wiped it after the last couple of people who sat down, or before he and Kenma took their place. He finds he doesn’t care. “Stupid neighbors, always either fighting or fucking all night. It’s been going on for a month now.”

“Oh that’s rough.” Kenma winces, handing him back his coffee, knowing lunch break doesn’t last forever and Tetsuro has to return to his office as a zombie. “Tried filing a noise complaint?”

He was about to, one week into the couple’s constant spats, but hearing them scream at the top of their lungs at each other about money troubles and barely keeping themselves afloat stayed his hand. Tetsuro knows how difficult it is to get an apartment in his building, a prime position near the business district at a reasonable price. He also knows his neighbors to an extent, at least what they do for a living as a preschool teacher and a struggling musician. As much as he needs his sleep, he’s not so heartless as to put them out on the streets. “It’s fine,” he promises as he downs the rest of his coffee. “I’ve been living next door to these guys for almost two years now and they’ve always seemed happy before this. They’ll work through it and I then I can get some sleep.”

“If you say so,” Kenma says but he still stares down and shakes his head at the next waitress who tries to approach them with a pot of coffee.

It’s a month and two weeks in that Tetsuro reconsiders that noise complaint or at least considers gathering his neighbors from the same floor and staging an intervention. Mrs. Mamizuka across the hall has expressed her concerns to Kuroo in the elevator one morning, telling him they’ll surely notice how loud and disturbing they’ve become when they realize she hasn’t been giving them as many of her baked goods as she normally does. And Tanaka who’s taking up residence at the end of their hall has advised him to just go out at night, go to the convenience store next to the building and wait till they tire each other out or go partying with friends.

Oh, to be a college student again.

He’s not even in his mid-twenties and he wishes for the energy he used to have, the kind that could drive him through all his classes on just 3 hours of sleep. Maybe then, he could finish his damned paperwork. Maybe then he wouldn’t fall asleep on the bus and miss his stop.

“Been up working late nights Kuroo-san?” the night guard, Sato asks him when he drags his feet into the lobby after midnight.

Kuroo nods, also wishing he had half the middle aged man’s energy, because even at the latest hours of the night, Sato-san greets every tenant and guest with a smile. Kuroo could only force himself to return it. “Something like that.”

“Well you look pretty tuckered out. You should probably put off whatever you’re working on for the night Kuroo-san.” He wags an index finger like a weather man telling a fact about nature on the news. “Sleep is important you know.”

Doesn’t he know it.

When he crosses the threshold of his apartment, he doesn’t bother turning on the lights. He heads straight for his bedroom and musters up the energy to take off his jacket, tie, socks and shoes. The night is silent, save for a light chorus of crickets outside his window. He’s gotten home later than he would have any other time, a crescent moon sitting just past its peak outside his window. And he hopes, oh does he hope, that it means his neighbors have already fought all they can fight for the night. Or maybe the husband hasn’t come home yet and that’s why it hasn’t started.

He regrets even thinking of it when he settles into bed and hears the distant sound of a door being unlocked and slammed open.

Tetsuro sighs, already rolling over to each for his messenger bag, his earphones sitting somewhere at the bottom. He stops his rummaging when no bedlam disturbs the night. Footsteps prick his ears but they don’t stomp and aren’t followed by booming voices trying to talk over each other. He rolls back over, leaning towards the wall and hearing nothing. Odd. More shuffling and trudging draw his eye up to the crag ceiling, to the apartment above his.

The kind elderly couple who used to live up there had mentioned wanting to move to the country for months. “The air is fresher there, better for old people like us,” the wife chuckled at him once when he’d helped carry her groceries across the lobby to the elevator. Not a week later, Tetsuro was helping the husband and their son move furniture out, just in time to miss the beginning of a hard spot in their neighbor’s relationship. But whoever has taken their place isn’t so fortunate but then again, maybe it’s him that’s out of luck. In the darkness of his apartment he stares up at the ceiling, brows furrowed.

He prays, prays to whatever kami watches over the luck and serenity of apartment buildings that it isn’t another couple that should’ve broken up yesterday. Hell, he’ll even take a new family with a rowdy kid. At least kids are usually out by 10 with their parents careful not to wake them, not banging on the walls or banging each other. No movie he’s watched or game he’s been in has ever left him in such suspense. After some more shuffling and gentle creak of chair legs against a wood floor, there’s silence.

Tetsuro sits up, holding his breath.

“Full moon sways,

gently in the night of one fine day.”

A car drives by, the doppler effect of it rushing down the street drowning out the first few notes of an acoustic guitar. Deft fingers play with practiced ease but do so with languid movement, catching on the strings more than plucking them. The voice, high and crooning, is the same, beautiful but almost lazy. Tired, he realizes, is a better word; she sounds as tired as he remembers he feels, once all the irritation at his neighbors and frustration with missing his stop ebbs away. Laying back down, he listens.

"On my way, looking for a moment with my dear.

Full moon waves, slowly on the surface of the lake.

You are there, smiling in my arms

for all those years."

Even as the song switches to strumming with the slightest bit of force, Tetsuro finds himself sinking deeper into his pillow, eyes growing heavy.

"What a fool, I don’t know ‘bout tomorrow,

or what it’s like to be, Ah,"

He’s never heard the song in his life, neither does he remember enough of his English classes from high school to understand everything, but he doesn’t need to.

"I was sure, I couldn’t let myself go,

even though I feel, the end."

Her voice and her guitar are muffled by the layers of wood and concrete between them. His window is open to let the cool night air and silver light of the moon in and he can tell hers is as well but she drowns out the chirping of crickets, the cars that drive by and even Tetsuro’s own thoughts as little by little, then all at once, he falls asleep.

"Full moon sways, gently in the night one fine day

You were there, smiling in my arms,

for all these years."

When he opens his eyes, it’s slow. Sleep inertia from a deep sleep is always worse but he finds his eyes widening as it goes away in minutes and he feel more rested than he has in years.

He blinks, staring up at the ceiling.

“Huh.”

#haikyuu!!#hq #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuro #kenma kozume #beck mongolian chop squad #kuroo x reader

21 notes · View notes

stillebesat · 5 years ago

Text

White Lies (4/5)

Sanders Sides: Deceit, Virgil, Logan, Roman, Patton Sequel to Little Lies Blurb: Deceit has been stuck in his ‘role’ as Dilyn for almost a year now. It’s about time he changed that. Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort, Tiny!Sides Inspiration: From @yay-cats9‘s wonderful Fanart she did for Little Lies. <3 Again thank you for the artwork! I love it! Overall Fic Warnings: Deceit, Negative Self Talk, Panic/Anxiety Attacks, Manipulation talk, Kinda Imprisonment?

To Catch Up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Deceit’s fists trembled as he struggled wrap his mind around--he had to be dreaming. Because---because-h-how could his powers work up here?! They weren’t supposed to while he was a chil--

A tidal wave of darkness burst from Virgil and engulfed Deceit with enough force to knock him off his feet.

He cried out, instinctively curling into a ball as he flew backwards, wincing as his back slammed into the bars of the railing.

Deceit gasped, struggling for air as he fell to the ground. His hands curled up tighter, nails digging into the palms of his hands as he pressed them against his chest while he struggled to get his lungs working again. A difficult task when it seemed like the thick, heavy blanket of shadows were weighing him with increasing pressure, seemingly trying to flatten him like a pancake against the wood of the deck.

Trapped.

GET UP.

Deceit gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to push to his knees.

If he’d been his normal size, it would have been so much easier.

As a child? Fighting against the shadows was like trying to lift a bus.

Impossible.

Some Gatekeeper.

FIGHT BACK!

A soft whimper escaped him as he managed to get to his knees, his knuckles white and palms aching from hard he was squeezing his hands, certain that it was the only thing keeping him from being squeezed into nothingness by Anxiety.

Fight!

Dee gritted his teeth, slowly forcing his head up away from the floor, trembling with the effort.

Make eye contact.

It would be easier to fight if he could see what Vee was doing. If he could take control of more than Anxiety’s hands.

It was the only way.

He had to do this. He had to--to--defeat Virgil and--and-

Dee managed to look up in time to see the swirling shadows split enough for him to catch a brief glimpse of Vee’s pale, terrified face. His hands still pressed against his mouth.

And what?

Go back to being hated by everyone?

He recoiled. NO!

The shadows surged forward again, taking advantage of Deceit’s momentary weakness, and shoved him back down to the ground.

Useless.

FIGHT BACK.

You’re NOTHING if you’re not Deceit!

This is what HAS to be done.

To protect Thomas you HAVE to be DECEIT!

You HAVE to CONTROL the OTHERS.

Did he?

Deceit’s fingers spasmed against his chest, Vee’s terrified face etched into his mind.

Did he really have to be big, bad, evil Deceit?

YES!

No.

He shook his head, breath hitching as his thoughts raced and swirled trying to--to make sense--to figure out--i

Because if he--if he went back to being Deceit, then--then--

He could see his path back to being the bad guy it all too clearly.

Once he defeated Virgil’s shadows, Deceit would prevent Anxiety from warning the others. He would then go down the steps to the party below. He would grab at the air, once more using his powers to force the Big Three to bend to his will. Force them to stay silent to protect Thomas from the things he didn’t want to know about himself. Force them to see the bigger picture of how to keep Thomas safe.

No longer working with them.

No longer being welcomed.

No longer having a battle of wits with Logan.

No longer going on mini adventures with Roman.

No longer experimenting with new recipes in the kitchen with Patton.

And definitely no longer playing lookout with Virgil when the former Dark Side would let him.

Deceit would become nothing more than the bad guy again. Hated. Despised.

His heart stuttered in his chest at the thought, feeling like it was tearing in half.

He didn’t want to be hated again.

That’s your JOB!

You are here to do the HARD things.

You are the GATEKEEPER.

You NEED to PROTECT THOMAS!

Dee sniffed, eyes burning.

But if--If Thomas actually needed him...then wouldn’t he have been back to normal by now? He’d been gone a year from his position as the Gatekeeper and Thomas was still alive. Still functioning. The others were minding themselves without his constant interference and guidance. With only the brief token appearances by Roman or Virgil pretending to be him.

He doesn’t need you.

Dee choked on a sob as he stopped fighting the shadows, letting their black weight hold him down though they could do nothing to get his hands to relax to free Virgil.

Thomas doesn’t need you.

He hunched his shoulders, fists shaking, soft whimpers caught in his throat as he tried to control the tears flowing unchecked down his cheeks by pressing his face into the cloak Vee had made for him.

Made for him because he cared.

Like he’ll care anymore.

No one cares for the Bad Guy.

And by trying to be Deceit again, he had proved himself to be just the villain and ruined everything good that had happened in the past yea--

Warmth suddenly enveloped him, lifting him up and away from the weighty darkness, gently rocking him back and forth as a soft humming reached his ears.

~You may be right, but I’ll prove you wrong.~ The lyrics came to mind as the humming shifted into the familiar song that Virgil had sung for a week straight once to annoy him. ~We’ll both find out in time if they’re lies, lies, lies, lies, lieeeessss.~

Virgil.

Deceit cracked open an eye, glancing up through his lashes to the former Dark Side.

Virgil had his arms awkwardly around him, despite his hands still firmly being pressed against his mouth, holding Dee protectively in his lap.

Trapped.

Virgil will NEVER like you now.

EVER.

Deceit flinched, hands clenching tighter against his chest which caused Virgil’s own hands to press harder against his mouth.

The humming faltered and a tremor shook Virgil’s body as he glanced down, the shadows behind him swirling like a black kaleidoscope.

Deceit stiffened further, heart rate picking up as their eyes met, his fingernails digging deeper into the skin of his palms.

NO NO NO. But Deceit couldn’t force himself to relax. It was like his hands had frozen in place.

Some Gatekeeper.

But there wasn’t hatred in Virgil’s gaze. The shadows didn’t attack again.

No. There was only--only…concern? Worry?

Why would Anxiety be worried for him and NOT HATE him?!

Virgil closed his eyes, breaking eye contact first as he bowed his head, keeping a steady pressure on Deceit. Softly, he began humming again, rocking Dee back and forth in a soothing manner.

~I won’t let them be lies, lies, lies, lies, lieeeeessss. I’m doing fine.~

Deceit swallowed, heart pounding frantically in his chest as he buried his head against Anxiety’s chest, his mind racing as he listened to the song.

Virgil would never have done this before. He would have fought back with his Shadows, forced Deceit back into the subconscious.

Yet--Anxiety was--was comforting him, helping him despite the fact that Deceit couldn’t get his fingers to uncurl.

Some Gatekeeper.

His breath hitched as his fingers spasmed.

Come on.

Come. On!

~I won’t let them be lies, lies, lies, lies, lieeeeessss. I’m doing fine.~

Virgil was helping him! He--he had to help him back. Free Vee.

Deceit closed his eyes, forcing himself to draw in deeper breaths.

Thomas didn’t need him.

Didn’t need the Gatekeeper.

He didn’t need to silence Virgil.

Not when he was trying to help.

Deceit had to free him.

Eyes burning, more betraying tears slipping down his cheeks, Deceit uncurled his fingers in one swift movement, dropping his hands to his sides, finally freeing Anxiety from his hold.

Thomas doesn’t need me.

Virgil stilled, abruptly going silent.

Deceit hunched his shoulders, smushing his face against Vee’s hoodie.

He should just...leave. Go where he couldn’t--couldn’t si-silence an-anyone a-again--

He sobbed as Vee ran gentle fingers through his hair.

“Shh. Shh.” Virgil whispered. “It’s okay Dee. I got you. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Apologize. He--he needed to do that--to try--try---

“I’m--I’m---s--s-sorry.” He managed to choke out.

Sorry doesn’t FIX it. You SILENCED him. HE--

A quiet sigh cut through Deceit’s spinning thoughts as Anxiety held him tighter. “No, Dee.” Virgil said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have--that was stupid to give you anxiety to deepen--I just wanted to--”

Deceit curled up further in Virgil’s lap. “…help?” He asked, his voice sounding so small compared to his normal kid tones.

Virgil trailed his fingers lightly down his scaled cheek, drawing the faintest traces of smoke--the last of the ill-gotten anxiety from him. “Yah.”

Some Gatekeeper.

If you hadn’t been so weak. It could have WORKED!

For who?

It was clear that his year spent with the Big Four had...well changed him more than he thought.

Before it wouldn’t have bothered him to silence anyone. Deceit had purposely kept himself apart to do so in good conscience. He’d kept himself from growing close to anyone so he could be the Gatekeeper. So he could protect Thomas.

Thomas doesn’t need you.

Deceit wrapped his arms around Vee, hugging him as best he could with his short arms.

Some Gatekeeper. Seeking comfort.

“You did help. Lots.” He whispered.

Not in the way he wanted.

But it was clear.

He couldn’t be--act like his old self anymore.

Vee scoffed even as he held him tighter. “But I thought you wanted to be Decei--”

“I...I…” Deceit--Dee? swallowed, struggling to get the words out. He should want it. He had wanted it. He was supposed to be Deceit. The Dark Side. The Gatekeeper. But now...now that he had a chance for a taste of being---good---liked---Dee let out a shaky breath, twisting his head to rest his cheek more comfortably against Vee’s chest as he dropped the hug.

It wasn’t Virgil’s fault that he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He’d been so certain walking out onto the balcony. But now? Dee looked down at his trembling hands. After silencing Virgil and seeing that flash of terror in his eyes before the shadows had attacked him?

He shivered. “I--I don’t know…” He mumbled, voice wavering. “I thought I wanted--Vee…but you...scared.” He swallowed, forcing himself to look up at Virgil, his heart twisting at the reddened handprints still fading over his mouth. “I...I know I don’t want that.” He whispered as Virgil raised an eyebrow, his eyes shining with concern. Not with hatred. Or with terror at being silenced. Concern. For Dece--Dee--for him.

Dee’s vision blurred as he struggled to get the words out over the lump forming in his throat.

Weakling.

Gatekeepers don’t cry like little useless babies.

But that’s what he was now. A child. Nothing more. “I-I do-don’t want you--o-or-th-the others---to--to...h-hate me again and--and--and if I-I’m De-Deceit.” He reached up, roughly brushing at his scales as more tears ran down them. “You will.”

To Be Continued Chapter 5

Taglist in Reblog

#White Lies #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Deceit #Virgil #Anxiety #Tiny!Deceit #negative self talk tw #panic attack tw #anxiety attack tw #manipulation talk tw #trapped tw #imprisonment tw

178 notes · View notes

saltpepperbeard · 5 years ago

Text

A Jotato’s THG Story (novel?)

So a few days ago, the lovely @everlarkedalways asked me to Weave My THG Tale™. And, in being VERY on brand in regards for my THG Story, I’m late to the party lol! Mostly because of work, partly because I was avoiding Ballad spoilers, and a tad bit because...I’m a potato. BUT, now that I am free of any large projects and finally have Ballad in my hands, I’m finally able to look past my potato roots and talk about how a certain wATER POTATO ARCHER CHANGED MY LIFE lmao.

Ara has jokes though, let me tell you. “Keep it short” l m a o; THIS IS ABOUT TO BE A NOVEL AND WE KNOW IT. ARE YOU READING BALLAD? HERE’S A NEW 500 PAGE BOOK FOR YOU TBH-

I’ve told this story a few times before, but it’s always delightful to look back on things and see all the twists and turns I’ve experienced with this franchise. The most notable being, I started out HATING Hunger Games lol!

I was in ninth grade when THG started to become like, a global phenomenon. Everyone was reading it, everyone was talking about it, and it was everywhere. And for whatever reason, instead of actually sitting down and, idk, GIVING IT A TRY LMAO, my reaction instead was to DESPISE IT. Guess it was that edgy, irate, “I’m ABOVE the general masses ha look at me,” fresh-out-of-middle-school mentality. And also, my justification for hating it so much was along the lines of, “Wow it’s just a series about kids killing each other? WHAT’S THE APPEAL???”

Which like fjlksjdksds...If I could look back on my early 2012 self?

She had no idea what was in store for her lmao.

Anyway, the premiere of the movie came and went, and I was still hard set in my ways. THAT WAS, until that same summer. I can’t exactly remember which clips I stumbled upon first? But I know I came across the Joshifer+Liz Banks interview, and also a ton of Perfectly Legal Movie Clips™ on YouTube. Both of which silently chained my soul without me realizing LMAO. I remember thinking that the main actors were so cute and played off each other well (AGAIN LMAO, GIRL, BIG STORM COMING), and also remember being totally intrigued by all the clips I watched. It was mainly clips of Katniss in the arena, and I think it made me realize that wow hey, there’s an ACTUAL STORY HERE, WITH A FEMALE PROTAGONIST NO LESS.

The story gets a tad fuzzy for me here, but I do believe I got the books and quickly read through them shortly after I essentially watched the entire movie on YouTube through clips jdksljdks. I can’t really recall what I thought about the books really? Because, I think I BREEZED through them. I was so excited that I just ZOOMED TF THROUGH. I inhaled the series in one GIANT GULP. I think I even read THG in a single day jdlsjklaads. It definitely wasn’t a cautious read through to get a better sense of the detail and literary devices.

BUT, despite my excitement, I still hadn’t reached the God Tier “OBSESSIVE” stage yet. The light bulb hadn’t fully come on yet. It wasn’t until late 2013 when Catching Fire came out that I REALLY STARTED TO GO BALLISTIC LMAO. Actually, one of my fondest THG memories comes from this time, because I think it was really like, the OFFICIAL starting block for my obsession.

I was riding on a bus to a Theatre Competition, and my best friend had just gotten the CF Soundtrack for us to listen to. I remember being absolutely enamored with it- Mirrors, We Remain, and Lean in particular. And idk, something at that point just kind of told me that Catching Fire was going to be my anchor. Sure enough, after the competition was over, said friend and I went to go see the movie together.

And I astral projected lmao. I ACHIEVED HUNGER GAMES ENLIGHTENMENT. THE LIGHT BULB SWITCHED TF ON.

I was quick to see it again the following day, and I think saw it another two times in theaters after that. I also started drawing fanart of it, and looking for more pictures/interviews. And the want for more content, the DESIRE to go crazy about it, is what eventually lead me to finding the fandom here on Tumblr. I had had a Tumblr since 2012, but never really used it with a purpose. But when I realized there were people posting all sorts of stuff about THG? Boom- another light bulb. I followed tons of people, and officially changed my url to what it is today. “Star’s” for my internet alias at the time, and “Mahogany” for my love of Effie/that Iconic Line.

HOWEVER LOL, Tumblr would lead me towards a different side, something I didn’t expect to get pulled into so hard at all. Because, I distinctly remember coming on one night in December of 2013, and seeing @joshmopolitan and a few others posting about Josh going to the UK game. And that of course, lead me down the Celebrity Rabbit Hole, and lead me towards the Chaotic, Wonderful, Crazy-

JOSHIFER FANDOM.

((Also, before you crinkle your nose, *raises cane* BACK IN MY DAY, EVERYONE SHIPPED JOSHIFER LOL. *Snow voice* DON’T LIE. Like, everyone thought they were cute to some sort of degree, or believed they were going to get together. Shoutout to the Joshifer Golden Days, man.))

And thank goodness for it tbh. Because it was JUST when I was itching to write fanfiction with everyone else, and just when I was struggling HARDCORE with writing Everlark. @joshmopolitan and @youarebeingridiculous were sort of my introductions into RPF, with @youarebeingridiculous giving me nudges towards my first Everlark fic, before also nudging me towards my first Joshifer fic. And when my first Joshifer fic garnered attention/when I had a blast writing it? ANOTHER. LIGHT. BULB LOL.

So I was dead af from that point on. I was absolutely drawn in. Even though I was still invested in THG, Joshifer was definitely my main focus from 2014-2016ish. I was there for the typical ship wars, there to read and write all the fanfiction, there to read all the theories, and there to partake in all the crazy moments. Shoutout to Cannes 2014 in particular lmao; I was in the car and my phone started going off like CRAZY, with many of my friends SCREAMING at me about the events/articles that had transpired.

Being attached to Joshifer also allowed me to write my first, and so far only, full length, These Words are a Lie. It started out as just a four part series, two parts of which I actually published. Befffooorrre getting to the third part and realizing I had WAY too much to deal with/explain/write, which consequently lead to me pulling them down and expanding upon them! And thus my messy, lovely, 25 chapter peanut journey started lmao. Though I look back on it now and realize how disjointed it was, I’m so thankful I was able to see that story completely through. I’m also very thankful for the SUPPORT and following it got. Wouldn’t have gotten through without y’all!

ANYWAY LMAO, because this is my THG story and not my Joshifer story, let’s get back to that. 2014 was WHACK because...LG was utterly tripping with its promotional material. And to think, it was just the START of odd/lacking promo, seeing as they were SOMEHOW WORSE WITH MJ2 LMAO. But even though I was incredibly salty at the time, it was so fun to be mad and chomping at the bit with everyone else lol. The SUFFERING OF NOT HAVING ANY NEW CONTENT BROUGHT US CLOSER TOGETHER. Also, going to Best Buy to watch the teaser trailer under Heavy Guard??? Was an EXPERIENCE LOL??? But man was I so stoked to get my poster and pin, because that was some of the first merch I got!

ALSO, MJ1 was the time where I got the idea to create a small YouTube series called “Tributes React.” I really really wish I could have been in the fandom earlier, because it would have been, dare I say, FIRE LOL to react to more than just the MJ1 and MJ2 trailers. But it was so so fun regardless, and everyone’s participation was incredible! And now all of our early, embarrassing, INTENSE fangirling is stuck here/memorialized forever PFFFF.

And, not to mention, Fran Solo himself watched one of them. Someone tweeted the video at him, and he tweeted back that it made all the hard times worth it. MY GREATEST FANDOM ACCOMPLISHMENT RIGHT THERE???

And finally getting to watch MJ1 in theaters lmao omg. I went with my friend before, and also one of my guy friends. And the entire time, he was HARD STARING AT ME WAITING FOR ME TO CRY LOL. SO HE COULD TEASE ME. AND HE GOT HIS WISH BECAUSE OF COURSE THE LAST 30 MINUTES OR SO UTTERLY RUINED ME. I remember shivering so so SO bad when the rescue mission for Peeta started, and having to hold my friends’ hands when they were creeping through the Tribute Center, and utterly SOBBING when Peeta attacked Katniss. Because...hello...I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again...WAY WAY MORE INTENSE THAN THE BOOK LMAO??

And then came the beginning of the end. I remember that promo time was even DRYER for MJ2 lmao, and that we were all DYING. Like, I think the big trailer didn’t release until like, SEPTEMBER??? WHICH...LG WHAT THE ACTUAL-

And we were also back to watching trailers in Best Buys jfkssdkdlsk. My Best Buy was also DUMB and didn’t have any posters, but @infinitegraces was awesome enough to send me numerous copies! Bless you, thank you; I had them on my wall all through college lol! DESPITE THEM BEING A HAUNTING REMINDER OF HOW HARD LG SMACKED US LMAO.

Despite my salt towards the INITIAL promo though, the premieres and what not definitely lead to MJ2 having a special place in my heart. I had just gone off to college, and was a timid, lonely little freshman with nowhere to turn. But the fandom was there for me, and MJ2 promos/premieres gave me something to be excited for. It all kept me going through that ROUGH first semester, and was there for me before I met my best friends. So thank you MJ2, and thank you all for sharing that excitement with me! <3

Also, I’d like to mention that I was SO desperate to continue the tradition of seeing the premiere with my friend thaaaaatttt...I left for Thanksgiving break two or three days early/skipped class JUST to make it back home in time to see it with her lol! I WASN’T HERE TO PLAY GAMES, Y’ALL. THG > ACADEMICS APPARENTLY PFFFF.

After that though, things kind of quieted down. I found friends and activities in college, the movies were done, and Joshifer was dying out. It lead me to use Tumblr sporadically, not posting AS much as I had before. I still had tons of love for everything, and still enjoyed coming on whenever I did!

Then I sort of stumbled upon our “renaissance,” like the lovely @everlarkedalways posting re-reads and re-watches. It tugged me in again, and made me excited to post content! I also branched out and began to write Everlark, and began talking about them/the books/meta more than I did in my earlier years.

And of course, said renaissance lead me to attending TOASTCON LMAO. Which I somehow managed to name. On accident. *Dabs unironically*

That of course, was such an amazing experience. Going to movie filming sites has always been on my bucket list, so getting to go to HUNGER GAMES SITES??? WITH FANDOM PEOPLE???? GOD TIER??????

I was also suffering from major panic/anxiety problems that summer, having just graduated college and being thrown out in the Real World™. So once again, THG and its fandom were there for me when nothing else could be. And despite me feeling off mentally, despite me feeling plagued by fatigue, I still thoroughly enjoyed meeting everyone/having such a once in a lifetime experience. Also, getting to FLEX on my friends when we watch the movies and go like “I WAS THERE! I WAS THERE!! I WAS THERE!!!” is...A Time PFFFF.

Then of course, I started working a full time job, and shifted a bit away from Tumblr/the fandom. Not DELIBERATELY; more like, I was too Mentally Tired to really do much after work. But now that Ballad is here, and now that we have new content once more? I feel like I’m waking back up. Hell, I even went to Atlanta to see MORE film sites right before the virus started to make its rounds.

And so here I am lol! A SEASONED THG VET WITH SEVEN YEARS AND COUNTING UNDER MY BELT. I would very much love to tag everyone who had an impact on me, and/or who I’ve interacted with and shared fun times with over the years. But A. Everyone really out here CONSTANTLY CHANGING THEIR URL’s, and B. The number would be Too Great and I would inevitably forget someone on accident.

SO THEN, if you’re reading this, and we’ve ever shared some kind of THG experience together, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. THG has been such a wondrous experience for me, and it’s lead me to meet all sorts of amazing, talented individuals. It’s also been there for me during darker times, and has supported me in every way possible.

I love you all, I love being here, and HERE’S TO MANY MORE TAGS/RAMBLES IN THE FUTURE LOL! Like lmao, a new movie, you guys??? WHAT??? TRIBUTES REACT ANYONE???

-Jotato Out <3

#Jodi rambles #Like #REALLY //REALLY// RAMBLES LOL #thg #THG Story #holy shit i'm so tired katniss #i've been writing for an HOUR LOL #I'M SO OUT OF PRACTICE WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING SPRINTS MAN #MY 2014 SELF IS TELLING ME TO STOP COMPLAINING BECAUSE SHE WOULD WRITE FOR EIGHT HOURS STRAIGHT GJSKLDJSK #I'M RUSTY LOL #RUSTY I TELL YOU #also this is probably littered with typos #what with my Clumsy Thumbsies #but here we are lmao #There's also even MORE stuff I have mention tbh #LIKE I NEARLY FORGOT TRIBUTES REACT LMAO SO I MEAN #WHAT OTHER MEMORIES DID I MISS #WHO CAN SAY #2014-2016 WAS UTTERLY CHALKED FULL

41 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

Baby We Made It (Jankie) - Katy

A/N: please forgive me, anon, whose bodiposi! Jan prompt I took from here and made it sad. I promise the last paragraph at least is happy. Also smut writers, please forgive me. I kept it short because I can’t write write anything other than mental breakdowns and sad people for the life of me. Let me know if you enjoyed! X

Jan absentmindedly stood in front of the full-length antique mirror in her and Jackie’s bedroom, fingers running over the dips of her stomach, the stark contrast between the softness of her skin and the slight itchiness of the lace trim on her panties bringing her back to the present.

She’d seen comments, again. Not about how she was robbed of the Rusical win, or how she owns the colour purple, Shuga Cain be screwed.

But about the way her thighs now meet in the middle. How her stomach isn’t perfectly flat, her ass a little rounder, her arms a little bigger. The pressure she felt before going to Drag Race was off, and now, with Jackie making love and Iranian dishes she remembers from her childhood, she was happy.

She knew the fans would notice, their eagle eyes catching every little detail, from when Jackie leant Gigi her earrings on the show, to the way someone had spotted her heels in the back of Jackie’s Instagram Live. It unsettled her at the best of times, so after perhaps the seventh time Jan had struggled to get into her jeans that month, she dreaded checking her social media.

Her fans were good, kind to her and to each other, bringing her bath bombs and fanart on tour. She knew they meant no harm. She knew that they’d be horrified to think they ever upset her. She knew that they had no idea that she burst into tears every time one of them asked her to wear one of her outfits from the show, thinking she’d bust the seams open and only be able to get it past her shoulders before she couldn’t tug it down any further.

She was more worried about the ones she couldn’t call fans. The ones who send anonymous confessions to those stupid Instagram pages that come up on her explore feed, those who hide behind private pages calling her a cry baby, questioning why she got on the show, and why she’d gotten so fat since drag race.

She’s not fat.

Tears begin to well in Jan’s eyes as she stares at herself with a critical glare. With trembling hands, she prods and pokes her body like she’s nothing but their words. She squeezes her arms, watches the way the skin tightens and releases, puts her hands on her waist and pushes her stomach as far inwards as possible. The faces of the haters have stick and poke tattooed themselves between her thighs, disfigured but still distinguishable, unprofessional yet very much permanent. Jackie will never look down there the same again.

Shit. Had Jackie noticed? Was she heavier when she sat on Jackie’s face in bed or her lap on the couch? Jackie wouldn’t want a fat girlfriend. Jackie deserved the world, as far as Jan was concerned. Love, cuddles, lavender oil scented baths, the left side of the bed.

Jan is so lost in her own mind that she’s completely oblivious to Jackie arriving home from the store, carrying shopping bags and a smile down the hallway, into the bedroom to find her girlfriend.

Jackie stops when she reaches the door, peeking her head in to check Jan wasn’t asleep before she barged in, knowing how Jan gets when she’s woken up from a nap. Her heart plummeted to the bottom of her feet when she saw Jan, and before her body could catch up to her mind, she was pushing the door open heavily and dropping her bags in sheer shock.

Stop.

Jackie stood in the doorframe, eyebrows knitted together with concern for her girlfriend, who was currently standing semi-naked, crying in front of the mirror. Jan’s feet were turning 180, forcing her to walk away, to get away from her reflection like it was flammable and her face was a open fucking flame.

Jackie.

She runs to Jackie, lets her lower her to the ground because she’s not convinced Jan’s legs are going to hold her upright much longer, lets Jackie pull her onto her lap, sees the absolute heartbreak in her eyes when she tries to scramble off because she’s ‘too heavy to hold’. Heat’s radiating off of Jan and Jackie almost wonders whether Jan’s in some sort of fever-induced delirium because there’s no way in hell she’s just heard Jan call herself heavy. Her tears won’t stop and she won’t let Jackie hold her and it’s breaking her heart. Jan’s face is buried in her hands, tears leaking out from between her fingers, and Jackie takes her chance. She stands, tiptoes over to behind Jan, and scoops her up into her arms in one fluid motion, holding her to her chest. Jan’s shaking and swatting and screaming for Jackie to put her down and Jackie’s internally doing all of the same actions out of fear and desperation. She’d never seen Jan like this, the younger girl being an effervescent light of energy and excitement. Jackie knew she had to start calming Jan down, whatever it took, before she ended up with an unconscious girlfriend and a broken heart.

Jackie supports Jan in one arm, wraps it securely around Jan’s waist and stars rifling through her shopping bags to find what she’d been so excited to come home and show her. The bag’s inside of another bag in typical organised Jackie style, and when she pulls it out, the receipt flies out over their heads and she thinks Jan may have stifled a giggle into her shoulder. Jackie’s bouncing Jan on her hip in such a child-like fashion, that when she takes out the delicately tissue paper-wrapped item, she presses it into Jan’s hands like a game of pass the parcel.

Jan snorts inelegantly, wipes her nose with the back of her hand and shifts in Jackie’s grasp until she’s facing her girlfriend. Jackie motions for Jan to open the gift, nudging her shoulder with a gentle hand. Jan’s acrylics rip the tissue paper, and she’s left staring at lingerie. Delicate lilac, adorned with lace and crystals and everything sparkly. The bralette is sheer and lacy, diamonds decorating the straps and clearly so very overpriced, but she can’t bring herself to care when Jackie’s lifting her chin with a careful finger, and they lock eyes for the first time since Jackie arrived home.

The tears come back thick and fast, wetting the lace with something other than pleasure, Jackie’s smile turns to a grimace as Jan begins mumbling how sorry and she is.

‘Baby’, Jackie starts, sitting them down on the bed. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I’m so sorry’ Jan hiccupped, her breath getting caught in her throat. ‘You’re so good, too good and I don’t deser-’

‘Stop’.

Jackie’s grip on her waist gets stronger and Jan tenses in fear, relaxing only when Jackie starts wiping Jan’s tears with the pad of her thumb. ‘Take a breath. You’ve got to start breathing properly before you talk, baby.’

They sit in silence for moments, minutes with Jan’s shaky breaths and Jackie’s slow counting the only noises.

‘I was reading Instagram comments and they were so fucking mean Jacks’.

Jackie’s eyes turn dark and her hands subconsciously squeeze Jan’s waist tighter and tighter until she has to unpeel Jackie’s fingers from around her, feeling an organ rupture or permanent crescent shaped nail indentations weren’t far off if she kept her grip up.

Jackie looks at Jan with an unreadable expression, before she’s pressing their foreheads together and locking her fingers at the base of Jan’s head, Jan seated in her lap. The tears still run freely from Jan’s eyes and in turn, they spill onto Jackie’s cheeks, sharing her pain.

‘What were they saying, baby?’

Jackie wasn’t stupid, by any means. She’d seen the comments on Jan’s Instagram, and after one mid-afternoon shower turned into Jackie’s fists repeatedly hitting the tiles like a makeshift punch bag, she vowed to herself she wouldn’t bring it up to Jan, her own futile effort to protect her girlfriend from the cruel world of fandoms and stans and biggest fans.

Sure, she’d noticed Jan’s stomach was a little squishier, her tits more rounded, but Jackie still, always, though she was perfect, no matter what.

Jan gasps in a huge breath, holds the air in her lungs before her mouth is running like a runaway train. She tells Jackie everything. How the sight of her stomach makes her want to cry, how the way her thighs press together makes her feel like she’s suffocating, how Jackie makes her believe she’s beautiful but she can’t help but listen more to the guy on social media with 14 followers and a car that’s definitely not his as his profile picture, telling her that she needs to go on a diet.

Jackie’s in shock. Her whole body goes rigid, stiff to the touch and she hears nothing but Jan’s sobs vibrating through her ears. She’s so completely overwhelmed that it isn’t until Jan starts hiccupping, the lack of steady breathing but the steady fall of tears catching up to her, that Jackie zones back in and internally curses herself for not being in the moment.

Jan’s next coherent thought is that she’s being moved, lying down under the covers with Jackie pulling her head down to lay on Jackie’s now topless chest. The skin on skin contact is too much in her current state of sensitivity, and she whines, moving to instead lie next to Jackie.

Jackie knows she needs to give Jan a minute, but every second she’s not holding her whilst she’s this upset is torturous, and eventually when Jan’s hand starts seeking Jackie’s under the blankets, she pulls Jan into her arms and kisses her softly.

‘Jackie?’

‘What is it, baby?’

‘I’m so sorry.’

Jackie’s lips smash themselves into Jan’s, not wanting to hear anymore of Jan’s needless apologies. She curls an arm around Jan’s waist, pulling her closer until they’re pressed flush together, Jan laying on top of Jackie.

Jackie’s hand moves down Jan’s body until she reaches her bra, gently tugging on the strap to ask permission.

Jan’s brain goes into overdrive, and the desire to put a huge hoodie on to cover her body is insane, but then she remembers. This is Jackie. Her Jackie. Her Jackie doesn’t care about being able to fit two fingers around Jan’s wrist, how big her tits are, what dress size she wears. Her Jackie loves her, no matter what.

Jan nods and tries unsuccessfully to help Jackie remove her bra, as she grabs both of Jan’s wrists in her hand, and tells her ‘No, baby. Relax. Let me make you feel beautiful.’

Jackie rids herself of her jeans and flips them over, Jan now lying on a sea of pillows as she presses their chests together, intertwining their arms and legs, with just the lace of their panties separating their bodies. She cups Jan’s jaw, smiles at her with childlike innocence, yet X rated lust filters through her eyes as she wedges her thigh between Jan’s legs.

Jan lets out a breathy moan at the unexpected action, and attempts to grind down to gain friction. Jackie lets herself be used, reminds herself that this is all about Jan.

‘Let me tell you something, baby’ Jackie whispers as she moves up to hold Jan’s face.

‘You may not agree with me right now, but I want you to know how perfect you are, to me. From the top of your head to the soles of your feet. I need you to understand that you are beautiful, and nobody can tell you otherwise.’

There’s a stray tear leaking out of Jan’s left eye, and Jackie quickly swipes it before it can fall, and then she’s moving down Jan’s body to play with her quickly hardening nipples.

‘These tits, baby? Are so fucking sexy’ Jackie emphasises, swirling her tongue around Jan’s right nipple, taking it into her mouth and sucking to hear Jan let out a series of exquisite, high-pitched moans. ‘They look so good when you wear those dresses with the low neckline, but they look especially good like this.’ Jackie pinches Jan’s nipples, hard, and she almost screams in pleasure, but before she can plead with Jackie to do it again again again, Jackie’s lips are travelling down towards her stomach, pressing kisses into the soft skin. Her hands trace the lines of her curves, and Jan almost starts crying again at the tenderness and care of Jackie’s movements. This was probably Jan’s most hated area of her body, and she conveyed that to Jackie through her eyes falling closed, not wanting to look. ‘Do you know how comfy your stomach is to lay on, honey? So damn comfy. I swear you have the softest skin in the whole world,’ Jackie starts, punctuating each sentence with hundreds of little kisses to the area. Jan’s body jolts, and Jackie immediately stops, moving back up and cradling Jan’s head.

‘Baby, your jean size doesn’t define you.’

The tears return and Jackie holds her through it, stroking her hair soothingly and whispering comforting words of reassurance. Once she’s sure Jan is okay, she starts moving back down, towards Jan’s thighs, and looks up, mouthing an ‘Okay?’ to Jan, before she spreads her legs.

Jackie peppers kisses to the inside of Jan’s thighs, and much to the amusement of the girl above her, tells Jan that her favourite thing about her thighs is the way they bracket around her head. Jan laughs at that, but before too long, Jackie’s hand is inching towards the waistband of her knickers, and the huge, breathy moan that escapes Jan’s mouth when Jackie dips her fingers under it lets her know what she needs now.

‘Jan, you’re so gorgeous baby. Especially here.’

Her panties were on the floor, and so was her jaw. Jackie’s tongue circled her clit whilst two long fingers entered her and began scissoring her opening. The vibrations of Jackie humming around her clit made her moan brokenly, and she pushed down onto Jackie’s fingers, desperate to be filled. Jackie crooked a third into her and Jan was gone, back arching, hips bucking, hands shaking. Jackie licked her through it, her hands on Jan’s hips to ground her, an attempt to stop the girl from falling off the bed in her relentless pleasure.

Once Jan was settled, a dreamy smile and wide eyes, Jackie crawled up to Jan and wrapped her in her arms. ‘How you feeling, baby?’ Jackie questioned.

‘Beautiful.’

Jan wore crop tops and mini skirts for the next two weeks, figure hugging bodycon dresses and jeans her new go-to. She’d broken the antique mirror that night, and they replaced it with a new one that her and Jackie spent all afternoon gluing post-it notes to, little notes of encouragement. Jackie told her she was beautiful, every morning and night, even on harder days when despite her team working hard to filter through Jan’s comments, she’d see something and get upset.

It got better. Jan learned to love the body she was in.

It’s different now cause I love the mirror every time.

#rpdr fanfiction #jan sport #jackie cox #jankie #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #smut #body worship #tw panic attack #tw body image #s12 #gigisgoode

38 notes · View notes

forestwater87 · 5 years ago

Note

Ok this is super embarrassing but you’re one of my favorite writers in this uh.. whatever this blogosphere is so!! I wanna try and take a crack at writing my own fanfic but.. I got no idea where to even start. Any advice?

Oh man, I feel awful about this! I didn’t know my inbox had any new messages, so some of these asks have been sitting here for . . . some time.

Anyway, first off thank you very much! Secondly, the most obvious advice is just, you know, “do it.” But that’s infinitely easier said than done. I started writing fanfic when I was around 10 years old, so overthinking it wasn’t an issue, since I thought I was the world’s greatest writer. Assuming you’re not 10 years old and as blind to the concept of literary criticism as I was . . . well, the first step is obviously getting an idea. EDIT: Holy shit, this is long. I’m gonna have to break this bad boy up with headers, like it’s a real blog post or something.

Getting Ideas/Inspiration

I don’t know if you already have something you’d like to write about or if you’re still at the “gee that looks like fun” level of fanfic ruminating, but if you’re having trouble coming up with ideas, turning to the existing fandom is a great place to start!

1: Filling in fandom gaps: I’ve found a lot of my best fic ideas by looking through what already existed and seeing where there was something missing; when I first started writing for Camp Camp, literally only @raenbowsofficial created anything for Gwenvid -- it didn’t even have a ship name yet, and I’m pretty sure the 3 people into it were still throwing “daven” and “gavid” around as well -- so there being zero other fics for it meant that if I wanted it to exist, I’d have to be the one to write it. (That’s also nice if you’re kind of insecure, because when no one else has tried the idea you’re interested in, you have no pressure to compare it to anything else.)

Also, you could take a popular/already existing concept and write it the way you’d like to see it, if the existing fanfics do something with the story or characters that you’re not thrilled with. That’s handy because it gives you a general blueprint to work off of in terms of tropes and broad story beats, while letting you explore something new. Obviously, don’t rip off someone else’s fic note-for-note, but being inspired by someone else is a great way to kickstart your creativity! If you do have a specific author or story that you’re using as a jumping-off point for your own writing, I would strongly recommend linking them in your author’s notes at the beginning or end of the fic, and maybe gifting the story to them! You don’t have to, since the creation is entirely your own, but it’s still always nice to acknowledge the people who inspire you the most.

2: Fandom inception. If you want to be a little more direct and literal, there’s always the option of writing fanfic of a fanfic or fanart that you really love, if there’s a universe or story idea that you like, and you want more of it. As long as you give credit and notify the original creator, I think you’d have no issues in terms of fanfic etiquette, and I imagine they’d be honored to have inspired your own writing. Fandom is a very collaborative experience, after all, and we’re all in this together! :)

3. For more general “I have a vague idea of what I want to do (the ship, or maybe a tiny plot bunny) but I’m not sure where to go with it,” my biggest recommendation is music. Especially folk indie-rock music, which is 90% angst and 100% haunting. And again, looking at fanfic/art is a great way to get inspired -- I have a tendency to put up a particularly good or emblematic piece of fanart/fic in another window when I’m working on something tricky to write, just for something to stare at when my ideas start running dry (shoutout to @doritofalls, @ellohcee, and the aforementioned RA for being my go-tos when I need to stare at something pretty to feel inspired; there are absolutely others, because this fandom is filled with absurdly talented people, but those 3 are my heroes of inspiration and if you SOMEHOW don’t already know them, fix that immediately).

Wow, that’s a lot and it’s literally just all about getting an idea . . . which you might already have. Yikes. For the sake of people who have to scroll past this, let’s put the rest under a cut:

Fleshing Out the Idea: An Ode to Outlines

Some people are able to just sit down and write something incredible from a vague idea, and the story just builds on itself without any sort of planning or organization to guide them along the way. These people are named Cipher/Campernetics, and we hate her for being unfairly talented.

For the rest of us, outlines are essential.

My outlines tend to be insanely specific, because I’m very afraid of letting a single idea slip through the cracks, and I build on them over time as I get increasingly sure of where the story’s going. The early outlines tend to be extremely vague, with lots of “and then something happens” connecting major plot points. An example for a current WIP I’m doing right now:

(Seriously, “Julia and everything”? Future Forest is going to be so pissed at current Forest when she reaches that point and realizes she has no idea what she’s doing)

And as the story starts to take shape and a plot eventually forms -- they tend to take at least 10 chapters to materialize, but they do generally show up! One of the great things about fanfiction is that plot is largely optional, though, so no worries if you’re starting without a full story idea -- I find myself writing more and more details down, if for no other reason than that I want to make sure I remember what I was thinking when I finally get to that scene (because I have absolutely gotten to a point in a story and forgotten what I’d had planned. It sucks). Here’s an example from another fic with pretty significant spoilers if you can figure out which one it is oops:

I’d recommend keeping your outlines pretty simple, at least to start with: words and phrases, rather than whole-ass sentences like the above. The complexity will develop as your ideas do, so no need to wrack your brain trying to write out the entire story in bullet form.

I use the bolded ideas as stepping stones, more or less; I’ll write out the piece of the story that each line represents, which can be as little as a sentence or as much as 4 or more chapters (RIP my most recent long-running fic), then delete that line and move on to the next.

Bolding them isn’t necessary, but it does make it easier to differentiate at a glance what needs to be written. If you keep everything in the same hundred-page Google Doc like I do, this is very important.

Your outline doesn’t have to be well-written, and you can 100% use fillers like “and then something happens here.” I do that all the time -- again, another completely different story:

Now, the vaguer things are, the more annoyed Future You will be when it comes time to write whatever it’s bulleting -- there’s a reason I haven’t updated this fic, and it’s because I have zero idea what the everliving fuck “Pinky-and-the-Brain-ing all over the place” means -- but it’s really good for when you’re first getting started sketching out the vague outline of your fic. The more you panic trying to figure out all the twists and details at the very start, the less likely you’re ever just going to sit down and write the damn thing.

(This might be why I don’t write plot-heavy stories, to be fair. Mystery writers very well might have to have it all planned out from the get-go, and I’d recommend chatting with someone who’s a bit less “coffeeshop AU” and a bit more Agatha Christie for that kind of advice.)

Knowing When to Post

There are people that exist, who have amazing self-control, who can wait until their entire story is written and then release it in sections, at regular intervals, until the story is completed.

I am not one of these people, though I try to be with literally every single fic I’ve ever written.

Personally, I do this until I reach a point where I get stuck and need validation, and then post what I have in a giant chunk and then don’t update it for several months. This is almost universally known as the worst way to write fanfics, both in terms of getting interaction from fans and keeping readers from wanting to kill you, and if you have the ability to write the entire thing and sit on it until it’s ready to be shared, you are a hero.

Alternatively, if you can actually stick to a set schedule of writing it as you go and still update with a new chapter every X days, you are not human and I’m terrified of you, because if you find a way to weaponize this power you will rule the world.

Honestly, a good rule of thumb? Post it when you’re ready for people to read it, whether it’s done or not. Not all works will get done, and it seems mean to deny people the delicious little stub you’ve written even if you’re not going to finish it. When you’re happy with what you have -- or are so tired of looking at it that you need to post it or you’ll throw your computer out the window -- just do it and let out a sigh of relief, then either take a few days before going back to writing or just jump in immediately like a goddamn masochist.

(I have tried to get far enough ahead that I can start posting the already-written stuff on a schedule, figuring by the time I’m caught up I’ll have completed the entire story and won’t have any awkward gaps. Ahahahahahahahahaha that has never once worked.)

If you’re not certain about your writing, get a beta! The fandom is full of talented people who’d be happy to read over your work, and if the person you ask doesn’t have the time or spoons, they probably have a few ideas of other people you could reach out to. You don’t need a beta, but it always makes me feel better to have another set of eyes look over my writing before posting, and my beta always catches things I completely missed. Plus, you get a nice taste of that sweet, sweet validation we all crave.

This . . . is a bad guide. Just in general. The advice is . . . not good, and I think it’s largely useless. But I keep trying to think of useful things to add to it and coming up empty, so I hope something in here helped, and if you’d like to bounce your ideas off of someone, feel free to shoot me a message! Talking ideas over with friends is a great way to flesh them out as well, and I am happy to be anyone’s fandom friend.

#ask forest #forestwriting #legit no one is going to read this and i'm not saying that to judge anyone #in fact i'll lowkey judge you if you DO read all of this because why #Anonymous

9 notes · View notes

threnodygrimblood · 5 years ago

Text

The Family That Shouldn’t Be

Summary: With Muriel and Eustace dead, Courage finds himself all alone at the farmhouse. Fortunately or unfortunately for Courage, the villains he faced in the past begins to make themselves at home at the farmhouse, bringing with them much fun and mayhem the small pink dog can handle.

I started watching Courage the Cowardly Dog again and with it came looking at fanart which then led to falling in love with Courage/Katz and reading fanfics. So I just had to write one or two myself. I hope it’s entertaining.

Rated T for just in case

The Light That Faded Away

֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍

Muriel is dead.

The notion was still hard for Courage to grasp. One-minute Muriel was fine, puttering around the kitchen, a smile on her face as she hummed her little hum while working on their lunch. Yes, she was fine except for the headache that suddenly came out of nowhere.

"Oh. This headache will be the death of me." Muriel uttered as she presses a hand to her head.

Courage whined in sympathy for his owner.

"I think I'll sit in my chair for a wee rest." Muriel decided. "Courage, can you please keep an eye on lunch and get me when it's exactly 11:30?"

"Mm-hm." Courage answered with a nod and a smile.

"Such a good boy." Muriel cooed as she gives Courage a few pats on his head.

Muriel's pats always made him happy. Courage watched Muriel make her way out of the kitchen and decided to help her feel better by making Muriel's favorite tea. Once the tea was made and poured into a cup, Courage carefully carried the cup to Muriel. He didn't hear the familiar creaking of Muriel's rocking chair. She wasn't moving at all. She's resting was Courage's thought, so he set the cup on the table next to Muriel's chair and quietly tiptoed back to the kitchen to keep an eye on lunch and to give Muriel the rest she needed.

When 11:30 rolled around, Courage headed back to the living area to let Muriel know it's time. He patted her leg to wake her up, but Muriel didn't stir. A frown creased Courage's face, and he patted her leg again, firmly. Muriel again didn't stir, nor did she move.

Panic settled over Courage as he frantically started shaking at Muriel while yelling, "Muriel? Muriel! Please wake up!"

When that didn't work, Courage was ready to get Eustace when, at the same time, the farmer kicked the front door open and walked in.

"Muriel! Is lunch ready yet?" Eustace demanded to know.

Courage hopped in place as he points at Muriel and babbles at Eustace. The anger on Eustace's face faded to concern.

"Muriel?" Eustace called out softly at first and then loudly, "Muriel!"

The farmer wasted no time calling for an ambulance, and Courage quickly made sure to turn off the stove so as not to burn the meal Muriel was making and not to burn the house down. The ambulance arrived quickly, and the EMTs rushed in with a gurney and looked at Muriel. Eustace and Courage watched from the side as the EMTs checked Muriel over and conversed with each other. They worked together to ease Muriel out of her chair and onto the gurney and scrambled for the ambulance.

Eustace and Courage followed, and both got into the back with the other EMT. Courage sat in the ambulance as it sped to the hospital; he was somewhat surprised Eustace didn't stop the little pink dog from accompanying him. It indeed showed how worried he is for his wife. Once they reached the hospital, the EMTs hopped out their vehicle and taking hold of the gurney, raced into the hospital. Eustace and Courage were asked to wait in the waiting room, and the two sat in the uncomfortable chairs for any news on the woman they loved. It felt like hours went by, it wasn't very long when a doctor- not Dr. Vindaloo- approached them.

"Mr. Bagge?" the doctor inquired.

Eustace and Courage got to their feet and turned their attentions to the doctor.

"How is she?" Eustace asked, fear in his voice.

"I'm sorry to inform you, Mr. Bagge. Your wife has passed."

Courage was sure his heart stopped as he went numb from the news. He vaguely heard the doctor explained how she had been dead since she sat in the chair. The doctor mentioned doing an autopsy and finding a cerebral aneurysm that had ruptured. How he explained that if they had caught it sooner, they could've done something about the aneurysm despite the risks that came with the surgery.

After a moment of silence, Eustace finally spoke. "Did she suffer?"

"There's some mercy in that there was no real pain for her, it was like passing away peacefully in her sleep."

Courage's heart sank. Had Courage been more concerned about Muriel's headache, he could've saved her? Silent once again filled the two as the doctor gave the farmer his condolences and walked away.

Eustace had gotten a taxi back to the farm, and the ride back home was bathed in silence. Courage gazed up at Eustace as he did not once grumble about the fare costing him money, he just paid the driver and walked into the house. Courage followed Eustace and watched as the farmer sat in his armchair. Courage walked more into the living room and found himself staring at the empty rocking chair. His heart grew heavy, and tears prickled his eyes as the realization that Muriel was gone hit him. He would never hear that chair creak as its owner rocked back and forth in it, will never get to sit in that lap content and happy while being petted by the woman he adored and saved numerous of times from so many dangers, never hear her humming as she cooked or cleaned, never hear her gentle words or hear her scowl Eustace for being cruel to Courage, and never will he ever hear Muriel proudly say her secret ingredient in all her recipes is vinegar.

Courage let out a loud sniff and blinked his eyes as tears began their trek down his face. He rubbed the tears from his eyes and face and discovered Eustace had left. Courage wondered how long he had been deep in thought as he went in search of the farmer. The small pink dog found his remaining owner in the kitchen, placing the phone back in its place. Must've been deciding what to do with Muriel Courage decided as Eustace sat at the kitchen table. Time ticked by, and Courage's eyes roamed around the kitchen when they fell upon the pot on the stove, the lunch Muriel was working on for all three.

His gut wrenched at the sight of it, but he knew that they hadn't eaten lunch yet, and Muriel wouldn't want them to grow hungry, let alone waste the meal, so Courage took it upon himself to finish what Muriel started. Courage headed over to reheat the stew sitting on the stove, turned the burner on the right setting so as not to burn the stew. He carefully stirred the content as the kitchen filled with an intoxicating scent and the sound of the stew bubbling. Once the stew was perfectly heated, Courage turned the stove off and spooned a helping into two bowls. Not once had Eustace said a thing. He didn't even acknowledge Courage as the pink dog set a bowl down in front of him. Nor did he snarl at the dog to get off the table when Courage sat across the farmer.

Courage observed Eustace as he waited for his stew to cool, still not a word poured from his mouth and not a muscle twitched. A whine forced its way out of Courage as he slowly began eating his cooled stew. Finally, Eustace picked up the spoon and started eating the stew. Courage was relieved until he saw the farmer finishing half the bowl before getting up from the table and leaving the kitchen. Courage sighed, finished his meal, and set to work on storing the leftovers and washing the dishes. Courage walked into the living room to find the farmer not there, so he went up the stairs, and after checking the bathroom first, pushed the bedroom door open slightly and spotted Eustace's familiar shape on his side of the bed.

Not quite ready for sleep, Courage hiked up the stairs to the attic to where the computer is.

"You again?" the computer inquired as the pink dog sat on the upturned bucket sitting on the chair.

He stared at the computer screen picking through his thoughts and feelings on what happened the day.

"I'm waiting." the computer uttered, a hint of annoyance in its tone.

Courage finally deciding on what to talk about began by asking what an aneurysm is.

"Which one?" the computer questioned. "There are many types." and commence and educating Courage on the many places in the body where an aneurysm could take place.

When the computer got to a cerebral aneurysm, Courage recalled the doctor telling them about it and quickly typed on the keyboards.

"Why so interested all of a sudden?" the computer asked.

With a heavy heart, Courage informed the computer the news about Muriel's death.

"Oh, I see." the computer was sympathetic and worked on giving Courage all the information he could find on the cerebral aneurysm.

"Something else on your mind?" the computer examined after observing the pink dog's expression.

Courage typed up what had been eating at him, which to say, he feels responsible for Muriel's death. Maybe if he had paid more attention to Muriel's headache, been more worried about it, perhaps he could've saved her from death's grip.

"Twit." the computer said somewhat fondly. "Aneurysms can be tricky. And most people who have their aneurysms rupture are never aware of it, chalking it up to be some mundane illness until it's too late, no matter how rare that happens. Most catch the aneurysms early before it ruptures when they are being scanned. In other words, it's not your fault."

Courage whined sadly. So, there was nothing the small pink dog could've done. But Courage did feel a little better after being told he wasn't at fault.

Courage and the computer chatted a little longer before he decided it was time for bed. After turning out the light- the computer demanded that Courage didn't turn him off- he went back down to the second floor and into the bedroom. Courage jumped on the bed and made sure that Eustace was asleep before settling down at the foot of the bed. His eyes fixated on the empty spot next to Eustace. A sigh escaped out of Courage, and he closed his eyes as he felt tears well up once more. It's been an emotional day, and he's going to need sleep to prepare for what the next day will bring.

#Courage the Cowardly Dog #Fanfic #ThrenodyGrimblood #First chapter #The Family That Shouldn't Be #Courage

20 notes · View notes

dekatsu · 5 years ago

Text

"If I were free thrash, would You pick me up?"

Based on this wonderful fanart by @fris-sucks.

ao3 link here

This whole Idea is stupid. Eijirou has voiced his thoughts about it already but got ignored every time. Exactly because of this, he wanted to have at least two designated drivers, because one sober person always gets overthrown.

So, he just sighs and silently follows his drunk friends into the streets, watches them as they find a cardboard box and start doodling on it. It’s raining, Eijirou is cold and he just knows this will end in a disaster. But he follows along anyway. Better to have one adult there than none.

Once Sero is done writing on the box, he holds the soggy thing out to Bakugou, who takes it with a scowl. “Here is fine, right?” And then he drops the box on the wet ground next to the wall, turns around and steps in.

Sero and Kaminari only hold back their laughter because Bakugou looks like he might kill them, if they start laughing into his face. Eijirou pushes them aside and goes for another try. “You ok in there, bro?”

“I’m fine,” Bakugou says, which he obviously isn’t. He is drunk, wet, cold and heartbroken. The last one being the worst, of course. But Bakugou would never admit it.

“Need a hand?”

“Fuck off.”

Eijirou sighs. “This is stupid. That was a stupid bet. Midoriya might be sleeping already. Or on a mission. Or even just taking a piss.”

Bakugou lifts his gaze from the ground to stare at Eijirou. “I didn’t ask you for excuses.”

“But bro-”

“No,” Bakugou says, gaze falling to the wet street again, “I lost the bet, so I’ll sit here and wait for someone to pick me up, ‘cause I’m trash. Fucking free trash.”

Eijirou stares at him, looks back to his other drunk friends, who are molesting a poor stray and decides that he can’t deal with them all at once. Time to call reinforcement. He points at the idiots behind his back. “I’m going to gather those two up and bring them home. You better be gone when I come back.”

Instead of replying, Bakugou pushes the hood of his jacket up his head and leans back against the wall.

When Izuku had gotten the text from Kirishima, he didn’t expect to find Kacchan in a cardboard box, with the words ‘Trash (free!)’ on it. Izuku switches his umbrella to his left hand and rubs his face with his right. So, this is what Kirishima meant with ‘go pick up your stray’.

“What are you doing, Kacchan?” Izuku asks. He doesn’t understand the situation. It’s beyond his comprehension. At least it explains the text.

Kacchan looks up, confirms that it’s Izuku apparently, and looks back down again. No words said. There is a firm scowl on his face, he looks paler than usual and his eyes keep falling shut. He’s well on his way to a cold.

Izuku steps close so that he can hold the umbrella over both of their heads. “Let’s go.”

“Are you picking me up, then?”

“Was this a bet? Because if it was, then you are stupid. How many times did I tell you not to bet with Sero?”

“Shut up!” Kacchan finally looks at him. Now that Izuku has a good look at his face, he knows exactly three things: Kacchan is drunk, angry and there is a feverish gleam to his eyes. “I’m free trash! Are you picking me up or not?”

“Why do you think I’m here.”

“How the fuck should I know what you think?”

“Yes, Kacchan, I’m here to pick you up. Let’s go.” Izuku reaches out to help Kacchan up but Kacchan slaps his hand away and staggers to his feet, climbing to the wall. He’s usually good at controlling his alcohol consume but something obviously set him off.

But Izuku doesn’t say anything. Instead he walks closely behind Kacchan and tries to keep him under the umbrella. Kacchan manages a few steps with the help of the wall before he stops and closes his eyes. “Fuck,” he says.

“Can you walk?” Izuku asks. His back and left shoulder are drenched from the rain, result of his effort to keep Kacchan from any more rain. It was probably stupid because Kacchan is wet from head to toe. “I still don’t understand why you sat there in this downpour.” It’s giving Izuku a headache. He can do without worrying about Kacchan doing anymore stupid things.

Katsuki turns around, ready to lash out but holds back just before he opens his mouth. He stares at Izuku for a moment and then turns back around to try a few more steps.

“Let me carry you.”

“No,” comes the reply.

“It will take at least twenty minutes to your apartment and I don’t have a car,” Izuku tries to reason. The reply stays the same.

A few minutes later, Kacchan asks, “why did you come?”

Izuku thinks about that, thinks about how he had avoided Kacchan for the last few weeks and feels the same uncomfortable feeling in his belly that had made him avoid Kacchan. “I care,” he says.

“Why?”

“Because we are dating.” It feels like a lie. But Izuku forces the words out anyway.

Kacchan stops suddenly, slides down the wall and closes his eyes. “I can’t walk anymore. I’m gonna sleep. Just leave me alone.”

Katsuki wakes when something presses against his forehead. He’s just dizzy for a short moment before a strong headache sets in and he must close his eyes, pressing his face further into Deku’s neck. He waits for the pain to fade slightly before he tries speaking.

“Why are you carrying me, Deku?”

“You are running a fever, Kacchan.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Katsuki opens his eyes, fights against the urge to shut them again when he’s confronted with Deku’s neck. He takes a moment to understand the situation and when he does, he feels like the trash he pretended to be.

The rain is still coming down heavily but Deku has somehow managed to balance the umbrella on Katsuki’s head so that it covers most of them and apparently, he draped his own jacket over Katsuki’s shoulders before carrying him on his back.

Deku stops for a moment, to readjust his hold on Katsuki’s thighs before he continues the long walk home. Now that Katsuki is looking around, he can recognize the neighborhood. But he’s too tired to really think about it.

Instead he closes his eyes, holds Deku tighter and says, “let’s break up.” There is a short moment of silence, in which Katsuki remembers sitting in the bar and waiting for a response from Deku, thinking this is it, then, before downing another glass of whisky.

“Yeah,” Deku says, “yeah, let’s do that.”

Yeah, Katsuki thought so, too. His head hurts so it’s rather easy to blame the sting in his eyes on the alcohol. He holds his breath for a moment, tries to reason that he saw this coming weeks ago, but it doesn’t help against the pain in his chest.

He feels sick, heaves a little but manages to calm down just before the urge to vomit really hits.

Deku stops, tries to look back and asks, “are you ok? Need me to stop?”

Katsuki shakes his head but Deku stops anyway because the traffic light blinks red. The rain pours down heavier on the umbrella, the noise steadily calming his heartbeat. Katsuki is exhausted. By the time the traffic light blinks green and they cross the street, Katsuki will be over Deku. He can do that.

Only Deku doesn’t move when the light blinks green. He stays still, eyes on his shoes. When he talks, it’s a whisper. “I hate this.”

“Just forget it, Deku. Pretend it never happened.” He will do the same. Once they cross the street, it’s all going to be fine. “Just move already.”

“No,” Deku says. Katsuki feels the headache come back with vengeance and he’s suddenly desperate to cross the damn street. He just needs to cross that street and the pain will stop, damn it.

“Deku.”

“Shut up, Kacchan! I can’t do this.”

“Why,” Katsuki starts, pushes himself away from Izuku and tries to steady himself on his own feet as the umbrella hits the ground. The sudden rain in his face cools him just a little but the anger is slowly bristling again. “Why do you insist on hurting me today.”

He holds his balance just barely, feeling ridiculously weak on his own feet. But he grits his teeth anyway and once the light blinks green, he tries to cross the street. There is no need to wait for the lights, though, since the streets are empty, just the rain, that stupid umbrella and Deku, who pretended to date him for two months before it all broke down over his head.

He’s not even halfway over the street, when Deku shouts behind him. “You treat me like a quest! Like a goddamn fight! Like a game you refuse to lose in!”

Katsuki stops in the middle of the street and tries to make sense of Deku’s words. His body is heavy and even though the rain helps cool him down, he still feels feverish and dizzy. “What?” He turns around, staring at Deku. “What are you talking about?”

Deku is still staring at the ground, not looking up when he answers. “You ask me out, out of nowhere and tell me we should date. You say you like me then insist that we should go out and that anything else doesn’t make any sense. You have the same look in your eyes; the same look you wear when you fight a villain and refuse to back down. You insist on your way, no matter how many times I tell you to give us time, that you should consider it properly.”

Deku takes a deep breath, finally lifts his face and looks at Katsuki. “You treat me like something you have to conquer, something you can’t lose at. It all looks like a game to you. I feel like you aren’t serious. I don’t want to be just another victory.”

Even though Katsuki heard the words, he can’t make sense of them. He feels dizzy. “I don’t understand,” Katsuki says.

“I don’t want to be something you win and forget.”

Katsuki rubs at his face, stares at the traffic light above Deku’s head which blinks red and still fails to make sense of the words. “Make sense, fucking Deku.” Katsuki thinks of the last two months, thinks about Izuku giving in after his seventh time asking him out and the disappointment he had felt when Deku started to ignore him right after.

“What the fuck do you want from me,” Katsuki screams. His heart beating erratically. “What do I have to do to make you understand? Was me chasing after you not enough? Why would I try to woe you, if I wasn’t serious?”

“Because you hate losing, Kacchan!”

“Just how much do I have to prove myself?” Katsuki feels heat against his cheeks, wipes at it roughly but it doesn’t stop. He closes his eyes and wills the tears to fucking stop. “When you didn’t reply today, I didn’t know what to do anymore! I just knew it was over. And no matter how many shots I chased down; it didn’t help! This damn pain, it just doesn’t know how to stop.”

He turns around, stares at the green light he must reach, desperate for this to be over with. He just has to cross the goddamn street.

“Where are you going, Kacchan?”

Katsuki can hear Deku’s steps following him so he tries to be faster, but his body feels heavy. He needs to reach the light. “I don’t know. I’m tired, leave me alone.”

“Kacchan.”

“Shut up.”

“I’-”

“Shut the fuck up, Deku! Let me cross the street.” Katsuki reaches out, almost touching the traffic light.

But Deku steps in front of him, takes his hand and says, “I just want you to love me.”

Katsuki stares at the traffic light just behind Izuku and slides to his knees. He feels lightheaded and giggles suddenly. Just when he was about to give up. “Well,” Katsuki says, stretching himself out on the ground and letting the rain hit his face, hurting just a little more. “Aren’t you lucky? I don’t think I’ll be able to stop loving you.”

Katsuki wakes up when Deku puts him down. “I’m sorry,” he says and wiggles his hand into Katsuki’s wet pockets. “Just need to get the key. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Katsuki blinks, places his hand over Deku’s to stop it. “You aren’t allowed inside.”

“What?” Deku asks, frowning at him. “We are both cold and wet. You are running a fever already. We both need a bath.”

“You aren’t allowed inside,” Katsuki repeats and pushes Deku’s hand away. “You broke up with me.”

Deku sighs heavily, sits down in front of him, right in front of the door to his apartment. This are ridiculous. But Katsuki isn’t letting Deku in.

“Kacchan,” Deku starts, plays with his fingers and says, “I’m sorry.”

“No.”

“Right.” Deku rubs his nose, sniffs and tries again. “Right. Sorry, that’s not what I’m supposed to say.” He plays with his fingers again, always fidgeting with something. And then he takes Katsuki’s hand into his own. “I didn’t think that you loved me,” Izuku admits.

Which is stupid, to which Katsuki wonders, “are you stupid?”

“Now I know. But you never said you loved me before. You said you liked me, which I was happy about. Because I liked you ever since we were children and I felt like you finally acknowledged our friendship. Then you said let’s go out and at first, I was happy about it, but your insistence made me uneasy. I thought you were just jumping into it and saw it as another thing you had to chase until the end, not really being serious about the relationship itself, just about the result of us going out, of making me fall in love with you, alone.”

“You are stupid.”

“I see that now, yes.”

“I’m too drunk for this, Deku,” Katsuki says but he doesn’t pull his hand away. “Keep it short. I’m about to fall asleep.”

Deku gives a small smile. “Right, so you are serious about us. And I love you, too, in a romantic way. And a sexual way. So, would you date me, Kacchan?”

Katsuki looks at his hand in Deku’s, feels calmer than he has in two months and finally takes a relieved breath. Even with the pain in his head, he feels better than in weeks. “No,” he says. He reaches for the doorknob and pulls himself up, away from Deku.

“What?” Deku asks but Katsuki turns away from him. “Kacchan!”

Katsuki pulls his keys out and opens the door, steps inside and looks at Deku from the warmth of his apartment. “I chased after you for weeks until I got my yes. Then you avoided me for weeks on end after giving it to me. I hurt but you still didn’t let me get to the traffic light.”

Deku looks confused, so Katsuki smiles at him, reaches out to pat his cool cheek and says, “Fight for my yes, Deku.” And then he closes the door.

Katsuki doesn’t bother taking a bath. He sheds all his wet clothes in his room, takes his phone out of his pocket and collapses on his bed. He sends Kirishima a text, telling him to call Deku and come pick him up with his car. Katsuki does love him after all. He just needs time.

When he’s just about to fall asleep, his phone vibrates in his hands. Katsuki groggily opens his eyes and reads the text from Deku.

I would. I did. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.

My Ko-fi

#bakudeku #katsudeku #bkdk #ktdk #izukatsu #based on fanart #thank you so much for allowing me to write for it #I love it #mine #my writing #angst #and a little fluff #misunderstanding #bkdk being idiots tbh

52 notes · View notes

let-me-make-you-proud · 6 years ago

Text

Tangled: The series Q&A with Chris.

This is a recapitulation from today’s (February 9th, 2019) Questions and Answers session with Chris on the Tangled Discord Server.

Q: How was your day? How has the crew been? A: That’s an easy one... so far, my day has been great! We’ve all been actually REALLY great! Everyone is still loving making the show! And we all can’t wait for you all to see what’s coming up!

Q: What this series means to you personally? A: As most already know, the show is very personal for me. I pull a lot of the themes and situations from my own experiences and the experiences of the people I love. The writers do an amazing job!

Q: Which episode are you most excited for out of the new titles that were released? A: I need to stay away from commenting on anything coming up. Sorry guys!!! You will love them though, I promise!

Q: Do you know whether or not there will be a long hiatus between season 2 and season 3 too? A: I do not know anything about Disney Channel’s plans for the shows schedule.

Q: I wonder who has built the caravan. Was it Rapunzel herself? A: We all just imagined that the caravan was picked up along the way shortly after the events of season one. I liked the idea that they were out there picking up supplies and things along their way. There could be more stories about how they acquired it. Those stories could be very fun.

Q: I know there are a lot of questions coming in but when you have a moment, would you mind telling us some of your favorite fan theories or AUs? A: AU’s - Well, that Moon Varian thing has gotten a lot of attention.

Q: What did you think when you heard that Germany was getting the episodes first? A: Honestly, it was quite odd to hear that Germany was getting the new episodes first. But again, I have zero say over how programming works at the channel. No one at the studio really does.

Q: Do you read fanfiction of the show? A: I don’t really have the time to read fan fiction, and I’d be worried that some of those ideas would find themselves into the show, so I stay away from them.... I’m sure they are great though!! I love that people feel so connected to the story that they write their own stories! That is SO GREAT! And inspiring in itself!

Q: Have you met any cosplayers? A: Uh, I met a few at D23! Amazing people!

Q: Fave piece of fanart? A: Any of the Cass fan art! I screen shot them and send a few of them to Eden! She loves them!!!

Q: Who's your favorite character? A: It’s hard to have a fav. I love them all so much!

Q: Bouncing off of that question, do you have a favorite villain? A: Well cone on, what would happen to me if I didn’t say Varian wasn’t my fav? HAHAHA!!! I do love Varian!

Comment: I noticed Varian went through lots of design changes, not really a question but I just gotta say how amazing his design is. Chris: He was conceived very early on in the development of the show. But he didn’t really come to life until Jeremy stepped into the role. His design changed after Jeremy was cast. Once we knew more about him he started to take more visual shape. He was a little softer in his design, not as dynamic. Ben Balistreri really found the right tone with him and gave him his final look! You can thank him!

Q: What about Cass. DId she change as well? A: Cass was similar. We had a pretty good idea of who she was, and what she would look like. But once I heard Eden’s voice, she became much more real and started to influence the design much more. Tough and able, she needed to look older and feel different than Rapunzel.

Q: Are you planning to add any more major-ish characters? A: Can’t really speak about upcoming episodes, SORRY!!!

Q: Do you or the other crew members have any pets that inspired any of the animals in the show, like Max or Rudiger or Pascal or Owl? A: Not REALLY?!I wanted my Scottish terrier to make it into the show, but he never did. His name was Conan!

Q: Is there anything you can tell us about (Shorty)? A: No, I like his mystery.

Q: Is he gonna be the Old Man Mcgucket of the series? A: He will NOT be the Old Man Mcgucket of the show.

Q: What is working on a creative team like? It's something i would love to do one day, but i was wondering what studio life is like? A: Working with the crew is the best part of the show. They are amazingly talented and inspiring! I love our crew. The artists, the writers, the voices, the musicians. It’s an amazing process. I’m so lucky that I get to work with ALL of them. I’m the only one that gets to work one on one with every single person on the show. Every single person brings a unique voice to the show. It has its challenges, but at the end of the day, you guys make it ALL worth it. So much more to come! You guys have no idea! I feel like the best stuff is ahead of us. I just wish there were more of you! I know, you guys do a GREAT job. But it’s amazing that so many “Tangled” fans still don’t even know that there is a SHOW!

Q: So at what point in the creative process do you think it's easiest to see what the episode will be? A: Hopefully it’s pretty early, but it doesn’t become solid for me until we start talking to the director and board artists about it. I love the visuals so it becomes clearer to me when I can start seeing things. The themes are always clear. It’s really about finding what the individual episode has to do with the season. Then I can start fine tuning it.

Q: What is you favourite scene? A: Oh I have so many. Um.......When her hair comes back. Her jumping out into the moonlight was my drawing. I loved that. It was like her being reborn.

Q: What made you decide that the leaf people on the Island (Lorbs) should talk with a German accent? A: It just seemed to be a funny thing for them to be German. Flula Borg is hilarious. He was in Pitch Perfect. And is on Conan O’Brien all the time.

Q: Has there ever been bloopers during the series? A: Bloopers are rare in animation. We cut scenes from time to time but the process needs to be tight so very few things get cut!

Q: Did anyone who said the idols name have trouble pronouncing "Idol of the Vershaftsbezeigungengien"? A: Oh! That?! HA! Flula just said it, nailed it. And it just became what the idol was called! We laughed every time he said it. He never messed it up. Nailed it every time.

Q: What background do we have on Friedborg's creation? A: Oh Friedborg.... She was simply meant to be this fun silent member of the castle. The show is SO heavy... and emotional, we just try to look for as many light moments and characters as we can to lessen the heaviness of the overall story.

Q: Did you have any inspiration for the character of Cass? A: Oh Cass. Ummm... she’s made up of a lot of people and experiences. I had an older wiser friend growing up that showed me the ropes. I wanted Rapunzel to have one of those. I cool, experienced buddy. Outside of Eugene. There’s your boyfriend, and then there’s your BFF. They are different.

Q: Were show auditions done all at the same time? Or as new characters needed? A: No, Lance came later, but I knew who I wanted for him. James was ALWAYS Lance.

Q: I'm curious, why did you decide to give Cass an Owl? A: Ben loves owls. And it seemed like something she’d have. Lives most of its real life at night.

Q: What was your inspiration for Quirin, Varian, and their family? A: Varian really came out of necessity. We needed something that would illustrate Rapunzel and her Father’s strained relationship.

Q: What inspired you to get so much Broadway talent for the voices? A: Well. I love broadway. And it seemed in line with the film already. Donna Murphy is a Broadway legend! So it only seemed natural. I knew there was going to be a lot of music and wanted a more sophisticated talent pool than just the regular Disney Channel Stars. Our cast is AMAZING! You guys have no idea.

Comment: Im a huge broadway fan I was so sad Christian Borle didn't sing. Chris: He didn’t sing.... BUUUUT STILL!!! CHRISTIAN BORLE!!!! He’s amazing!!!

Q: Whose bird design is your favourite? A: I loved them all. They won an award!!!

Q: With two legends like the actors playing mother and father, why did you decide to not do a song? A: Songs are difficult to do in the 22 min episodes. We knew we wanted Rapunzel and Cass to sing about the road, so after that we just ran out of time!

Q: Without going into spoilers, any information we can know on Adira's development? A: Well obviously she has the tattoo... So she’s connected in SOME way.

Q: On character design, how long does it take to design a character? A: As far as time goes.... The crew gets a few weeks to design a show, but for major characters that we know we will see over multiple episodes, we take more time. Ben was working on Adira’s design even before we ended season one.

Q: Could I be cheeky and ask for some portfolio tips? Like.. what would be the number one thing a studio (not just disney, any really) would look for when it comes to a character design artist? A: Good question...The number one thing needed for a designer is to know how to turn a character in space.It’s boring, but it’s the NUMBER ONE THING required for the job. Knowledge of shape and space. Not just 3/4 front. So many portfolios have these amazing drawings, but they don’t mean anything if that can’t animate. Do tons and tons of turns. A lot of people think that character design is this super creative flourish of whatever you want all day long. And honestly, it’s not.It’s a lot of mundane clinical turns that are done for use by animators.It’s very boring most of the time.

Q: Would that be very similar for general concept art? A: Well, there’s a difference between visual development and character design.Character design for TV is CLINICAL AND STERILE. But VERY useful. And necessary.But it’s not the life of a “Art of” book.You need to be able to think like a computer.

Q: How early did you have the concept for Lance, and did his role change during development? A: I think I’ve told this story before but I love telling it. About Lance. So. I had flown to New York to pitch the show to Music legend Alan Menken... We spent the day pitching and Alan loved the concept of the show and agreed to write our songs!!! HUGE! Life changing day for sure. So I think he got us tickets to see Aladdin that evening on Broadway. I had never seen it on stage. So we went and I always keep notes for ideas in my phone. And the moment I saw James Monroe Iglehart, I knew he needed to be in the show. He was so much fun! And big! And funny! And a GREAT singer.I wrote down “Eugene needs a fun friend from his past and James would be perfect!” This was before we even began writing any scripts for the show. So from then on out, he became a character in my head, it was just the details of how he would play into the story.But we all love him and James is like a brother to me. We have so much in common! He’s the best! He’s in Hamilton on Broadway now! He and Lin go back a LONG way!They have been friends for years! Q: Which movie or show song is your favourite? A: Well, if it’s not too obvious, I’m a “Little Shop of Horrors”/“Little Mermaid” guy.I love the tragedy of Little Shop and the beauty of Mermaid. I love music and animation. I think our songs are some of the best Disney has to offer across the board. I’d put any of our songs against the features any day.And there are more coming that are some of the best in the series!!!

Comment: Listen up is one of my favorites. Chris: I like listen up because Rapunzel at that point needs to listen to the voices in her head... it was motivated by the things that were happening in the bigger story.

Comment: I liked View from up here. Chris: View from Up Here was also motivated by the bigger arc of the story. Songs for me should work hard to inform the audience what is happening in the story overall, not just what’s happening AT THE MOMENT. “Ready as I’ll ever be” was really about Rapunzel getting ready to leave home. She was as ready to start her adventure as she was going to be. We just used the song to give that same attitude to everyone. But Rapunzel is the focus. Everything SHOULD have purpose. Narrative purpose.

Chris: Keep watching and SPREAD THE WORD!!!

#Tangled #Tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #Q&A #Tangled crew #Questions & Answers #chris sonnenburg #Rapunzel #Cassandra #Eugene #flynn rider #Varian #Lance #Adira #Disney

191 notes · View notes

shipmistress9 · 6 years ago

Text

FTLOAP: Chapter 30: Erinn're Dich! Keine Macht trennt uns - außer Zeit und Raum

Title: For The Love Of A Princess

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28; Chapter 29

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Okay... First of all, I need to apologise that there was no new chapter last week. Between the holidays, school holidays, and a general lack of motivation/writer's block, I didn't manage to write anything. This week is a little better, even though I'm still not really happy with this chapter.

Because I hear you. And I feel you. You're ready for things to happen, for action and real drama... Believe me, so am I! But this is what I was talking about at the beginning of the second part. It's about development, on many points, and might become a little boring... BUT! We're almost through. I can't/won't say how many chapters are still to come in this second part, because I never know if a plan of three or four chapters stays that way... But know that we've almost reached the end of this part, and part three will be much more interesting...

But yeah, not entirely happy with this chapter... because I wanted to add so much more here, but simply didn't manage to write it all. I mean, in the end, this chapter reached a decent size, so it's fine. But yeah, things tend to get longer than intended, and I'm sorry.

Either way, this chapter is dedicated to @poppysfanworld . It was your birthday last week, and I'm so sorry that I missed updating on that day of all days. Although, this chapter would have been dedicated to you anyway. For those who don’t know: a couple of weeks back, she drew a fanart for this story, and, without her knowing about it, the scene she drew is in this chapter! So, yeah, Poppy, this chapter is yours. I hope it’s okay ._.

This week's title... is probably nothing but incomprehensible babbling to most of you. It's from the German version of "Think Of Me" from The Phantom Of The Opera, and means something like "Remember! No force can separate us – except time and space". Now, I could have simply used the English lyrics instead... But here's the funny thing: The English lyrics at that point are "Remember me, once in a while, Please, promise me you'll try" – which, as you hopefully agree, is not quite the same... xD

. o O o .

"So... is there anything you want to do?" Hiccup's voice was low, rough even, as he spoke into her ear in-between kisses. Those kisses had started intense from the first he’d given her, only moments after she’d arrived at the stables, and had only grown more heated since then.

Astrid sat across his lap, having landed there after a stormy greeting, and couldn't really think about anything except that she wanted to keep kissing him, wanted to feel his hands and mouth, his hot skin against hers again. This last day spent with her brothers had been great, but spending the night with Hiccup was even better. "I don't know," she gasped after a few more kisses that left her breathless. She hadn't even gotten around to take off her cloak yet, so what gave him the idea that she could think properly? His hands on her waist and around the small of her back felt wonderful, like a promise of happiness, but she'd rather they took off her dress and his tunic again. "Show me more?"

Hiccup chuckled, a deep rumbling that vibrated through them both, but obliged nonetheless. His kisses grew even more intense, his teeth nibbling and tugging at her lips, and his hold on her became rougher as he pulled her closer until her chest was flush to his. There was still too much cloth between them for her taste, but the way he made the fabric rub against her breasts was still enticing enough. For now.

When his left hand moved away from her back, she wanted to protest at first. She wanted more, of him, of those forbidden sensations, more explosions and more softness afterwards. But then she felt his hand on her thigh, beneath her skirt, and forgot any complaints. His touch on that unexpected and ridiculously sensitive bit of skin made her gasp, her wide eyes meeting his as he retreated and looked up at her.

"Is this okay?" he asked, and the husky tone in his voice made a pleasant shiver run down her spine. His hand on her thigh moved a little, slowly wandering higher up her leg to emphasise the meaning of his question.

Astrid felt dizzy, a small flicker of fear rising as his touch brought back the memory of Harold touching her. But that flicker disappeared just as quickly as the other one last night had when Hiccup had cupped her breast with his large and work-rough hand. Those memories had no power over her anymore, and the fact that Hiccup asked was the ultimate difference. Because Hiccup would never force himself on her, would never do anything she didn't want him to. With him, she was safe.

A little overwhelmed by this renewed realisation and the sheer difference of how Hiccup's touch felt, she wasn't quite able to form any words. Instead, she nodded, and choked a little when his fingers suddenly brushed over her sex. He started with slow and light touches, soft strokes over the thin fabric of her underwear, only teasing her sensitive body beneath. But it was enough to make her shiver, made her clutch at his shoulders for an anchor, and with his dark eyes avidly taking in her every reaction, she felt simultaneously exposed and cradled, caught in this wonderful whirlwind of emotions and sensations that made her dizzy.

When his hungry mouth resumed kissing her, it made everything more intense, and it didn't take long before his hand became bolder, too. The press of his finger against those hidden folds or that hot spot at the top let everything else fade into the background until all she cared for was feeling more. More of his tongue gliding along hers, more of his touch. Occasionally, he slowed down, a proud grin pulling at his lips when that made her grind herself against him in search of more sensation, and at some point, Astrid couldn't remember when, he must have slipped his hand beneath her underwear, because suddenly not even that bit of fabric was between her and his hand anymore. It should have made her cautious, but she trusted Hiccup not to tear what had to remain intact, trusted him with everything.

Gods, he looked so beautiful as he gazed up at her in what looked like awe, even with how silly she had to look, pathetically grinding and rocking against his hand as she was, mewling, her face surely flushed and covered in sweat. But he didn't look as if he thought her silly, not even as another one of those explosions tore through her body and left her twisting and screaming. If anything, he looked as if he honestly enjoyed watching her.

"Was that what you wanted?" he murmured into her ear. His hand was soothingly rubbing her back after she'd sacked against his chest and panted against his neck with her head resting on his shoulder.

"Mmmh, yes," she hummed, giggling as another of those small but pleasant waves ran through her body. Gods, how had she ever thought she wouldn't like this?

Hiccup's embrace, which felt like it was all that was keeping her upright at this point, tightened for a moment as he pressed a loving kiss to her temple. Then he guided her soft and so wonderfully pliant body down onto the blanket before he stood up.

"Where are you going?" she asked, confused and not really able to think yet.

"I... I'll be right back," he muttered. "Everything's fine, I just..." He swallowed, bit his lip, shrugged, and then left the stall.

Too dazed to give his strange behaviour much thought, Astrid basked in how relaxed she felt, how comfortable here in this simple stall surrounded by Hiccup’s scent. Eventually, she wriggled out of her cloak and tossed it to the side before burrowing into the blanket, giggling. When he returned, however, he still seemed oddly tense.

“Are you okay?” he asked, anxiously. He kneeled down beside her, and looked her over. “Did I… Gods, did I hurt you?”

Astrid blinked up at him, puzzled. “No, you didn’t. I’m fine.” She reached for his hand and wanted to pull him down toward her, to cuddle and kiss. But when she touched him, she noticed that his hand, cool and damp, was shaking. “Hiccup, what happened?”

“I…” he stammered, his gaze darting around, to her eyes, their hands, and around the stall as if those wooden walls held any wisdom. “There was… blood on my hand just now, and– Gods, I thought I was careful enough, but… but…” He broke off, his gaze now pleading, desperate.

Astrid, however, relaxed. “Oh, that,” she murmured as she shuffled to make space for Hiccup beside her. “It’s the time of my moon blood. It’s almost over, but…” she trailed off, shrugging. Then another thought occurred to her, and she grimaced. “Is that… a problem?” She hadn’t thought about that, but with how little – practically nothing, really – she knew about how all this worked, maybe it was?

Her answer visibly appeased Hiccup though. He relaxed, shoulder slumping in relief, and he finally lay down next to her with a heavy sigh. "No, it's not a problem. Not for me,” he clarified, expression relaxing into a soft smile now. “I just… well, I feared that I... had accidentally broken your maidenhead, even though I'd been sure to be careful enough, and..." He gulped, but then shook his head and burrowed deeper into their comfortable embrace. “But no, not a problem. Some women become overly sensitive during that time, sometimes even painfully so, but as long as it felt good for you, everything's fine.”

“Hmm… yeah, I’d say it felt good enough for me,” she hummed, making Hiccup chuckle.

“That’s all what’s important,” he sighed, and brushed his lips against her forehead.

For a timeless while, they lay in silence, lost in their cosy bubble of warmth and comfort, the only sounds coming from occasional light kisses or one of them humming happily.

“How was your day?” Hiccup eventually asked. His fingers traced an invisible line up her bare arm, and it made her giggle.

“It was good,” she replied, stopping his hand by carding her fingers through his. “But I'll miss these days. Once Daniel left, I don’t think I’ll be able to get away with so much free time anymore, and in a few weeks…” She trailed off, biting her lip until it stung. She didn't want to think about the months to come; Daniel would be in Westhill organising their defences, Dagur would return to Southshore to learn how to keep nobility and overambitious merchants in check, and Eret would be back in Eastervale to take care of their horses–and Hiccup would leave with him. And then it would grow even worse when summer would arrive, when they’d all go to Westhill to actually fight, and leave her behind with no other option but to pray for their safe return.

The thought made her heart beat faster for another reason for once, and Hiccup seemed to notice the difference immediately.

“Hey, it'll be okay,” he murmured soothingly. “Everything will be fine. We’ll be careful, and between Daniel’s personal guard and the Gods apparently needing us for their plans… I’m not really worried anything will happen to us.”

Swallowing thickly, she forced a smile onto her lips, and nodded. “I know,” she breathed, almost inaudible. “But I'll miss you nonetheless.” She pressed closer against his chest. “Gods, I wish we could get married already. I don't want to be apart from you, ever.”

Hiccup sucked in a breath, his fingers at her back twitching. “Believe me, I know what you mean,” he muttered hoarsely. “But even then I'd have to leave to fight eventually.” He retreated, and curled his hand around her jaw, tilting her head upwards so their eyes met. “But it'll be worth it in the end. You'll see. In a few years, we’ll be sitting beside a warm hearth fire, wrapped in a comfortable embrace after the day's work, and laugh about all this.”

“Mmh,” Astrid hummed, closed her eyes and nuzzled against his hand. “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” he mumbled, then let his free hand drop to her chest, over her heart “But we'll never be apart, remember? Not really.”

. o O o .

The following day was somehow boring and stressful at the same time.

Even though she’d again had an unbelievably restful sleep in Hiccup’s arms, it still had been barely more than a handful of hours. They’d talked a lot last night, about their future, how their life would be – and had completely forgotten the time.

Some things still made her smile whenever she remembered them, like how they agreed on hopefully having enough space to keep horses, as riding was something neither of them wanted to miss. But at the same time, she hoped their life wouldn’t be too pompous, too formal. She wanted to be able to literally spend nights rolling in the hay with her husband, just like they did now, without it being a scandal due to their high status.

Hiccup hadn’t been quite as forward with what he hoped or planned; instead, he’d agreed with and occasionally elaborated on her suggestions, rather than offering his own, and there had been something like a sad shadow crossing his face every now and then. But those never lingered, and he’d kept asking her questions and listened avidly to every single one of her – occasionally silly – lines of thinking.

“It’s not silly,” he’d said after she’d told him that she hoped for a relatively simple life, far away from politics and intrigues and fighting, that she wanted them to raise their children themselves, peacefully and without the rules of decorum demanding them to engage a governess. He’d cradled her face in his hand, one of her favourite touches by him, and had looked at her with so much warmth and love in his eyes that she’d thought she would melt then and there. “No, not silly at all… Gods, I can’t wait for this future to come true, the vision we had. You, with our son on your arms, our home…” He’d swallowed, and Astrid had been sure that he felt the same longing she felt too, the sheer yearning for the years to hurry by until their life together would start for real.

But all that had been last night, had kept them up far longer than intended, and today, she almost regretted staying up so deep into the night.

No, that wasn’t true. She didn’t regret that they’d talked for hours. It had been wonderful, phenomenal, incredible. But that didn’t change how tired she was, how she was barely able to keep herself from yawning every now and then or her gaze and mind from drifting away from conversations and greeting their guests.

“What’s the matter, little sis?” Dagur nudged her arm with his elbow after she’d missed replying to some duke’s greeting. “You look tired, and not just today if I may say so. Is something bothering you? Keeping you awake?”

They stood in a neat row, the King, the Grand Dukes, Daniel and she, Dagur, and Eret, to greet and welcome all the highborn lords and ladies that had come to the capitol for the grand blot tonight. From experience, Astrid knew that this reception would go on for hours, which was why they’d already started in the morning.

Dagur’s question made her smile though, Hiccup’s warmth in her chest spreading at the memory. “Yeah, somehow I haven’t slept all that much lately,” she admitted, but then quickly changed the subject. “And this reception doesn’t exactly help with keeping me awake either. How much longer is this going to go on?”

Dagur grinned, and Astrid could practically see how he forcefully kept himself from cackling out loud. “I think we’re almost through.” He glanced at the ceiling-high windows to their left. “See? It’s already past noon. We should be through in another hour at the latest.”

Astrid sighed, and nodded. This year wasn’t the first time she’d participated in pre-blot ceremonies, including the grand reception, but the particulars of the rituals all tended to blur together for her, mostly because her part in them was only as a glorified accessory. Meanwhile, her brothers all had direct parts to play, and had since they’d been boys old enough to understand.

She remembered years when she’d sneaked into the hall and had hidden behind curtains or underneath tables, drawing faces at her brothers until they burst out laughing and she’d gotten thrown out. She almost wished she could do that now, too. Play some prank, leave the hall, and roam freely over the castle’s grounds. But she was part of the official party now, and no matter how much she wanted to just run and leave everything behind her... she couldn’t.

Sighing, she put back on her mask of a smile and greeted a baron and his wife whose names she’d forgotten already with a curtsey. Only one more hour, then food would be served and the afternoon would be filled with mingling and chatting, before they would all ride in a slow procession to the Temple for the grand winter blot.

Astrid sighed again. The holy ritual to pray for the return of light and warmth and to ask for a good harvest and peaceful times was actually one of her favourites. But all the pompous affectations around it made these days nearly unbearable.

. o O o .

Hiccup let out a groan as he stretched, and let his gaze wander over the small team of horses in front of him. With him having spent the day cleaning and scrubbing saddles and bridles – and working on Astrid’s music box whenever he had a spare moment – the day had flown by in what had felt like a heartbeat to him.

But now, it was all done. Six of his seven charges stood groomed to perfection, tacked in their polished and shiny saddles and bridles, ready to go, and his Midwinter gift for Astrid was wrapped in cloth and safely attached to Cassie’s saddle.

Not that he was actually allowed to give a present to the Princess as, customarily, only family members gave each other gifts. And he knew that, even though the King and Grand Dukes considered each other family, Daniel, Eret, and the rest of them didn’t really exchange any meaningful gifts either.

But this was different. The Crown Prince himself had asked him to do this, and if coincidentally he could give back the repaired music box to the Princess on this of all days… so be it. Nobody ever had to know that it was meant as a Midwinter gift to his future wife – or that there was a second, more personal present hidden in that bundle. Nobody but her.

Smiling, he walked from one horse to the other, patting their necks and humming to keep them all calm, while his thoughts whirled around nothing but her. As always.

Last night, she’d been amazing. He’d expected her to become more active over time when it came to their lovemaking, given her confident nature. Coaxing her into trying to seek her own pleasure last night had been meant as a first step toward the vixen he assumed she’d eventually become, confident in her own sexuality, with the scars of the past having healed and faded. But, Freya, the reality had been so much more overwhelming than he ever could have anticipated. He’d done barely more than teasing her a little before she’d bucked and ground against him, had positively ridden his hand, and watching her fall apart like that had been one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

It meant he would need to be careful though, if he intended to spare his clothes – sneaking out to jerk off instead of spilling into his trousers every time she came over. But that was a small price to pay if it meant he could watch her curiously and confidently explore her own body, could hold and kiss and cuddle her, could dream with her about their future – even though the picture she’d drawn of their dream life had made him melancholic. It had been an almost picture-perfect description of the life they could have had, if only…

Trembling, he chased these unwanted thoughts away, just as a small voice broke the silence. “Milord?” the boy said carefully, eyeing the Grand Duke’s stallion Hunter behind Hiccup with an undeniably scared expression. “We’re done cleaning up and are ready to go.”

Hiccup nodded at the boy, one of the sorry lads Lavo had sent over to help him today. “All right. Have you decided yet who gets to ride which horse?”

The boy gulped, eyes still fixed on the stallion, and nodded. “I lost.”

Hiccup had to suppress a chuckle at the boy’s expression, and instead decided to put his mind at ease as best he could. “You don’t need to be afraid of Hunter. I know you’ve learned how to treat these horses, or Master Lavo wouldn’t have sent you.”

The boy bit his lip, but didn’t seem convinced. “Yes, but… but Wulf warned us about Hunter. He said, since he’s a trained war stallion, it’s very likely that he’ll throw us off because we’re not his usual rider, and–”

The boy broke off as Hiccup couldn’t keep from laughing now after all, even though he fought to keep it quiet to not agitate the horses. He felt at ease between them, as always, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t turn deadly at the right – or wrong – provocation. “And you believed him?” Hiccup asked, shaking his head. Wulf was an older stable boy in Lavo’s retinue, known to play pranks on the younger boys on every occasion he could. “Even I learned not to take everything Wulf says seriously, and I’d only been at the stud farm for a few months.” The boy’s face turned an entertaining shade of red, and, taking pity on him, Hiccup rectified, “Yes, Hunter is a war stallion, but a seasoned one. He’s used to different riders, as long as they know how to keep him calm. And between Crusher, who isn’t trained as a war stallion and by far not as aggressive, and Markor and Cassie, the only horses you’d need to be careful with are Squish and Trample – and I’ll be taking care of those. You don’t need to worry.”

The boy only looked partially convinced, but so long as he didn’t panic, everything would be fine. And Hiccup knew he wouldn’t. He’d been serious, after all; Lavo wouldn’t have sent him these boys to help if they couldn’t handle the horses.

A few minutes later, the three boys sat in their respective saddles, and Hiccup gave them the sign to start their way to the castle. Crusher and Hunter went ahead, probably the easiest to handle, while the third boy rode Cassie and led Markor on a rope behind him. It surely would have been easier to just place a fourth boy on Markor’s back instead, but as used to horses as these boys were, they were not used to ride on a side saddle, especially not one with decorations they could ruin with the tiniest motion.

“Don’t get too close to the stallions,” he warned the boy on Cassie’s back, signalling him to follow the others with a bit of a distance. “Markor gets a bit skittish around them sometimes.” The boy nodded, paling a little as he probably realised at that moment that he hadn’t gotten the easiest task after all.

Chuckling quietly to himself, Hiccup followed, riding Trample while leading Squish on a rope beside them, leaving a small distance as well, but still close enough to keep an eye on the boys and the horses. All in all, he was grateful to Lavo for having sent the boys, as getting all six horses to the castle for the parade all on his own would have been quite a challenge. But taking care of the boys in addition hadn’t been all that easy either. Although, it hadn’t really been Lavo’s idea anyway, and the main reason hadn’t been to help him with the horses either.

The slow ride to the castle was thankfully uneventful, and they arrived just in time, with the sun just beginning to set. By the front gates, Hiccup and several other grooms from the main stables stood ready with the horses for the Royals and their highest guests to lead the slow procession toward the Temple. He shifted a little uncomfortably in the formal outfit he had to wear, as he was to ride at his master’s side, but all in all, he was more filled with eager anticipation than with anything else.

During the last couple of years, he hadn’t really participated in any Midwinter festivities, but at home on Berk the ritual to pray for the sun’s return had been, like everything else, a relatively formless affair. Oh, sure, they observed the rites themselves, but beyond that, there had been lots to eat and drink, and by the time the sun set and everyone headed for the Temple hardly anyone was still sober. But from what he’d heard so far, here at the capitol, things went differently. It was a grand event; the long procession that would grow bigger the longer they rode through the city toward the Temple alone was worth it.

And the grand blot itself would be equally impressive, the beautiful plaza he’d admired the other day entirely filled with people and lights. It would surely be an overwhelming sight and worth being a part of at least once.

And then there was the fact that he would be able to celebrate this day with Astrid. Sure, he couldn’t be at her side, couldn’t hold her hand and show the world that he belonged to her. But as Eret’s squire, he at least could be near her, and that was worth every bit of discomfort he might feel in these excessive clothes.

They didn't need to wait long until the grand gates to the castle opened. King Osmond was the first, of course, with Daniel and the Grand Dukes right behind him, and many more following. It was a bit of a chaos, really. The place had been relatively full with countless horses and grooms before already, but now that the noblemen came in addition, all looking for their steeds, it was madness. Hiccup was just glad that, since he was in charge of the Prince's and Grand Duke Eret’s horses among others, he had one of the more advantageous spots on the plaza, close to both the castle entrance and the gate.

“Thank you, Hiccup,” Daniel said after he’d held Trample for him to mount the horse, and was about to do the same for Dagur. “How was your day? Did everything work as planned?”

A smile tugged at Hiccup's lips, even as he fought to keep a professionally composed expression. It had been on Daniel's suggestion that Lavo had sent him some helping hands – to help with the horses, yes, but Hiccup guessed that, in the end, that had only been a beneficial side effect. As far as he understood, Daniel was intent on returning the music box mended and repaired to Astrid before he left on the day after tomorrow, and, as he wasn’t capable to do it himself, was more than willing to accept every help he could get. “Yes, your Highness,” Hiccup replied, formally bowing his head. “I got everything done. Thank you for the assistance.”

Daniel nodded, beaming, but before he could say more, Eret greeted him with a clap on the shoulder. “You should be thanking me for not insisting on you accompanying me,” he groaned. “Seriously, this day of socialising was the worst. I wish I could have helped you instead of spending all afternoon with the Countess of Whitevale and her daughters.”

“Well, you survived,” Daniel commented dryly. “And let’s be honest, when it comes to ridiculous and unwanted proposals, we all got off easy today.” Both Eret and Dagur snorted, clearly in annoyed agreement, but before Hiccup could place any question as to what had happened, Daniel shook his head. “Let’s just be glad it’s all over,” he sighed. Then his gaze flickered away, past them, and his expression grew tight. When Hiccup followed his eyes, he spotted Astrid standing next to Markor, her posture tense with shoulders drawn up, and clearly unhappy.

Daniel huffed quietly, the leather of the reins creaking as his hands tightened around them. He looked around the plaza, then from Dagur to Eret, and back to Astrid. “Hiccup?” he eventually murmured, an odd tension in his voice. “I normally wouldn’t ask you, but we’re all already mounted, and it wouldn’t be appropriate to…” He trailed off, and slightly shook his head, teeth gritted, before he went on. “Could you go assist the Princess with mounting her steed?”

Hiccup’s eyes widened a little, but he quickly fought not to show his surprise – or his nervousness. “O-of course, Highness,” he replied, bowed again, and retreated. Even with how formal he usually behaved, doing so now was different. It was real – had to be real. But luckily, it came rather naturally, because he wasn’t sure if he could have pulled off the act otherwise.

He was about to publically interact with Astrid, on an open plaza and surrounded and possibly watched by countless noblemen and the King himself, was even to touch her. And even though it happened on the Prince’s request, it still made him nervous.

“Your Highness?” It was weird to use this form of address for her, but the only appropriate one right now. As she turned – her gown of dark blue satin with silvery detailings woven into the fabric looking as if the night sky itself was flowing around her – he was once more struck by just how beautiful she was. And the way her expression softened slightly at his sight only added to that. But no matter how much her sight warmed his heart and her presence gave him reassurance, he was acutely aware of their audience. “Please excuse me approaching you, your Highness. But the Prince asked me to offer you my help?” He let his words end in a question, asking her permission, as he indicated toward Markor behind her.

Astrid directly caught herself again, her usual mask in place as she glanced at her brother and then nodded at Hiccup. “Of course,” she replied, voice calm as if they were talking about the weather. “That is very kind of you.”

She took a step to the side to give him space, but Hiccup hesitated. For a moment, he considered offering her his hands or his knee to step on, or going to get a mounting block – there were a few around for the shorter people in the crowd. But that wasn’t how Daniel or Eret would do it, and it wasn’t what he wanted either. Not that he was too squeamish to get his hands or clothes dirty, or had forgotten that they weren’t alone... But frankly, he didn’t care what whoever was watching them thought. He knew that she wouldn’t mind his touch, and he acted on official request. Screw what anyone might think.

He heard Astrid’s breath hitch as he stepped closer and placed his hands on her waist. It took him barely more than a second to lift her lithe form up onto Markor’s back, their contact ending far too soon for his taste. As he retreated, he let his hand glide along hers, Astrid too surprised to pull back, then the moment was over. He took a further step backwards and bowed as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Thank you,” Astrid said formally, having caught herself quickly again. When he lifted his head, she wasn’t even looking at him anymore. She’d already turned away, overlooking the crowd, and gave a pretty convincing show of ‘business as usual’.

But Hiccup knew better. He noticed the slight rosy hint on her cheek, saw beneath her mask of composure. She had enjoyed the small contact just as much as he had. Smiling slightly to himself, he walked to where the last of Lavo’s boys still held Cassie ready for him, and, after climbing into the saddle himself, took his position at Eret’s side.

He’d just drawn up next to his cousin when Eret muttered quietly, “That was a damn bold thing to do.”

Hiccup glanced up at him. Between Eret’s own height and the height of his steed, there was quite the height difference, and Eret was looking straight ahead. It was clear, however, that he was talking to Hiccup, even if it didn’t look like it. “Bold and foolhardy. Odin, Hiccup, you can’t just– You’re lucky that Swanja is tougher than Daniel gives her credit for. Friends or not, he would rip your head off if he thought you made her uncomfortable. You better keep that in mind, I’d rather not stand between my family and my best friend…”

Hiccup didn’t say anything to that. What was there to say anyway? He was ready to do whatever it took…

But did that also include pulling others into the line of fire?

. o O o .

So, here’s another important bit: I'll be honest and say I expected this question to come up sooner. But now, finally one wants to say, the question about their age came up (Over on FFnet). All information is woven into the story, but I also know especially Hiccup's age is not explicitly mentioned, so here are the ages of the characters.

Daniel: 23

Eret: 21

Dagur: 21

Hiccup: 21

Astrid: 17

Now, I expect there to be an outcry, calling me a paedophile and this story a horrible example for children and all that blah blah... And no matter what I write here, those outcries will come. Know that I will read them, laugh about it, and forget them. And for those who care about what I'm going to say about it:

In this world, the legal age for marriage is 16. It's only noblemen who have this custom of marrying their daughters off at 20. An age gap of four years (three actually if you take into consideration that Astrid is close to 18) is not 'problematic'. And this story isn't meant for children anyway ;p

Next chapter

#FTLOAP #for the love of a princess #hiccstrid drabble #Hiccup and Astrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #Hiccstrid smut #Hiccstrid fluff #smut #lemon #fluff #httyd #httyd fanfiction #httyd fandom #medieval au #Hiccstrid Medieval AU #royalty au #hiccstrid royal au

34 notes · View notes

poor-sickies · 6 years ago

Note

Would you do "definitely just a cold" for Keith? Any pairing (or no pairing) is fine.

@witnessmysin

This one got a lot longer than I planned it. It also went in a much darker direction than what I was planning, but I’ll post it like this,

No explicit ships, but can be implied Sheith if you want it to!

I have a few fanarts that fit well here in case you want to check! (x, x and x)

As for my bingo card, only one slot empty, so send a prompt if you want!

@badthingshappenbingo

recurring

word count. 4214 words

prompt: definitely just a cold

Read on AO3

It’s hard to tell if this is worse thanKerberos.

Shiro had vanished, with nothing in theblack lion to imply his death. No broken body, no blood, no hole he could havebeen sucked out through, not even signs of struggle. It was like Shiro hadgotten up and gone for a walk, even leaving the black bayard intact in itsslot, as if there was some kind of superior purpose.

If there was, Keith couldn’t find it.

Disappearing like this (and keeping inmind that they were all in space, and that many weird and seemingly impossiblythings were apparently possible, all due to Voltron and this castle and thevastness of mysterious things that happened in the universe), there is stillhope of Shiro being alive. Keith clings to it like a drowning sailor to alifeboat. Even when the waves are violent and unforgiving.

But if Shiro is really alive, that alsomeans he could be anywhere.

And the Universe is way too big of a placeto look thoroughly.

Nevertheless, Keith never skips a day ofgoing out with Black, scanning large areas, to look for him, for some clue, forsomething. He had started with the place Zarkon’s ship had been, and then movedto other nearby quadrants, before outright passing around Galra prisoner shipslooking for him. The team would free the imprisoned people, but Keith’s facefell every time Shiro wasn’t there.

Everything is all the more painful whenKeith remembers Shiro’s wish. It wasn’t anything new for Shiro to make jokesabout death, even if Keith (and pretty much everyone else around him) hated it.But Keith tried to forgive it, he tried. Shiro had a terminal disease, and peoplecope how they can. But something chilled Keith to the bone whenever Shiroimplied Keith would be next in line for the position of black paladin.

Why? Why was Shiro careful to the point oftrying to tie loose ends in case something happened to him? He seemed socertain sometimes, and it pissed Keith off to no end. How dare he?! AfterKerberos, after all the pain Keith had gone through…how could he just do itlike it was nothing? How can Shiro just tell that the universe has it out forhim?

Keith had known about Shiro’s diseaseafter listening behind closed doors. What was it that he had missed this time?

He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep sincethe battle with Zarkon.

Last time Shiro left him, after he punchedIverson and was dragged out of the Garrison grounds by two guards, he had beenon his own. To deal with the pain, heartbreak, and with himself. But hemanaged, between a few nights of drinking himself to sleep, going out to thedesert to look for something, anything he could do with himself (and even thenit had led him back to Shiro), he had managed it somehow. He can do withhimself, by himself.

But Keith has a team to lead now.

It’s the biggest pair of shoes he has hadto fill, ever. He lacks the competence, or empathy, or knowledge that takes tobe a good leader. He’s rash, impatient, insecure.

Even being sent off to space, fightingaliens and freeing people, that he could do. Shiro was there for him to fallback on.

But now, he feels like the fate of theuniverse has been given to him, a mere child, who is too broken to do anythingwith it. It’s too much. He can’t do this. It’s so painfully obvious howunlike Shiro he is. And that just makes his heart ache even worse.

Waking up like this is no longer uncommonfor Keith - head throbbing, eyes swollen, throat sore from crying, and thatheavy weight in his chest, that comes after realizing that no, this isn’t anightmare. That he really lost Shiro, again.

If Keith was back at the shack in thedesert, he would have rolled over in bed, laid under the covers and tried tosleep.

But he isn’t. He’s the leader of Voltron,and he has his team counting on him.

He takes a deep breath and gets up, bodyaching and feeling like lead, but no more than usual. The last few days havebeen brutal, and he has been waking up every day with sore muscles. It’s partof the job, and he has no choice but to embrace it.

Sometimes, when it gets too bad at night,he thinks of picking up a heating pack to soothe the soreness, but last nighthe didn’t, and he’s certainly paying the price now.

He drags himself through the hallways,dressed in his workout clothes. He’s not exactly sure why he’s forcing himselfto work out now, when he has one more hour to sleep before the others wake up,but it’s not like he can go back to sleep anyway. And training gets his mindoff things. Exhausting his body and mind is one of the very few ways todistract himself, and he’s not going to just stay in bed because he’s feelingworse than normal. Keith has never been one to give in.

Forty minutes later, he’s drenched insweat and not feeling much better. He pants, hunched over, hands on his knees,trying to catch his breath. His head feels numb, hazy with something he can’tquite place, and breathing is harder than normal.

But he can already hear the food goomachine in the kitchen, meaning Hunk is up, and there’s no time left to rest.The day has started.

The ship keeps travelling through thisgalaxy. Sometimes, Keith looks through the glass, at the bridge, and despiteknowing that he’s going at insane speeds, it all seems so slow, so distant.Planets pass through them, big and bright, and it all seems filtered in slowmotion.

The day goes uneventful. He takes a showerafter his workout, hoping the hot water will soothe his aching muscles, but itdoesn’t. If anything, it leaves him feeling heavier and more sluggish. Histhroat still hurts too, and he notices, because the feeling doesn’t usuallylinger for too long. Today, though, swallowing makes it sting and burn.

It’s before dinner, when he’s about to goon his daily lookout for Shiro, that his nose starts getting clogged. Hesniffles, trying to breathe through it, but it’s no use. He’s also strangelycold, the paladin armor not enough to block the cold air inside the lion, andhe runs his hands through his arms. He’s sweating under the black suit, but hestill feels cold.

It’s a fruitless trip, again. He skipsdinner, opting to flop onto his bed face first with the armor still on. Hefeels like sobbing, but stops himself. There’s no energy for that. His bedfeels like a rocking boat, swaying from side to side, and Keith closes hiseyes, giving in to the feeling.

He’s out in a matter of minutes.

Someone comes in eventually to turn offthe lights, and Keith knows this because they were on when he fell asleep.

The ache in his throat from earlier hasdeveloped into a burning sensation, through his neck all the way to the back ofhis mouth, and his nose his now completely clogged up.

The skin on his stomach and chest are dampwith sweat, and when he manages to sit up, the cold air hits him violently,making him shiver. The armor feels heavy and way too hard, so he slips out ofit, piece by piece, and peels the black under suit off of him. He quickly curlsup under the covers, sighing at the sudden and welcome warmth, and drifts offto sleep again.

Keith doesn’t know how long it is untilhe’s up again, but he wakes up and it’s too hot.

His hair clings to his forehead and neck,and his skin is sticky all around where the blankets touch it. He lets out agroan when the pounding in his head gets worse as he turns to the other side.He sniffles again. His nose wants to start dripping, and swallowing doesn’thelp either.

Well he’s definitely sick. Maybe not sick sick.Probably just a cold. He can do with a cold. It’s what he thinks, beforerolling over and realizing it’s already morning, and he doesn’t have an hour togo back to sleep.

The shower doesn’t make him feel worsethis time. He feels cleaner after washing away his sweat, even if he does socurled up in a ball on the shower floor. Standing up takes too much effort, andsitting like this, letting the hot water drip and run down his back feelspretty relaxing. The hot air helps with his nose too, and even his throat hurtsa little less.

But he knows he can’t spend half an hourin there, so he turns off the water suddenly, trying to make himself leave. Instead,he lets out a whine and curls up on himself further, trying to preserve someheat. He’s wet and shivering like a dog in the wind, and getting up feels likea herculean effort. Thankfully, his towel is right there, and provides at leastsome comfort.

Keith glances at himself in the mirrorbefore getting dressed.

He looks paler than usual, with darkcircles around his eyes. He has been getting skinnier, going by how his cheekslook sunk in. He needs to shave too, because he hasn’t in a while, and his facedoesn’t grow enough hair to pull off that kind of look yet. With two quickdrags of his razor through his chin and upper lip, his face is hairless again,but he doesn’t look much better. Better leave it to Lance to be the pretty one,at least today. It’s a lost battle for now.

The others notice it over breakfast. Anddespite how easy and tempting it would be to just say he’s fine, he insteadadmits he’s got a cold. Keith is aware of how he looks, and he definitelywouldn’t get away with saying he’s in perfect health.

“Maybe you should go rest a little,” Hunksuggests with a concerned frown, as he hands him his plate of breakfast goo,“we’re still trying to track Lotor down, so it’s not like there’s anything toourgent to do.”

Lance chuckles, “Only, like, saving theuniverse.”

“We can always train a little with thegladiator,” Allura points out, finished with her breakfast, “just because wedon’t know Lotor’s whereabouts, doesn’t mean we can slack off.”

“Of course not,” Hunk insists, “I was justsaying that if Keith’s not feeling so well, he probably shouldn’t be up andaround training instead of getting some rest.”

“I could do with a little extranap,” Lance shrugs, before stretching his arms above his head, yawning, “alwaysnice to get some sleep.”

“No,” Keith cuts him out. “We’ll do thegladiator. We need to keep ourselves in top shape if we want to defeat Lotor.”

He stands up, and shoves his chairforward.

“I’ll be in the training room,” heannounces, turning his heels to leave, “hurry up and finish your breakfast.”

“He didn’t even touch his food…” Hunkfrowns, staring at Keith’s full plate.

Keith walks outside the dining hall, andonce he’s far enough, almost by the training room, he stops, one hand againstthe wall. He’s shivering, despite the isolating fabric of his jacket. Hebreathes through his mouth, panting, because no air can go through his cloggedup nose, which in turn irritates his throat. His head pounds, shooting up withpain every time he tries to move. He lets himself slide to the floor, slowly.

There’s no time to rest.

Shiro had properly gone through all thestressful work of being a leader, and he had been dealing with phantom painsand post traumatic stress. There’s no way Keith will allow himself to be putdown because of a glorified cold.

He allows himself to catch his breath,before standing up, and walking to the training room. He’s able to drag himselfto the middle of the room, to wait for the others, when the sudden sound of theblaring alarms almost knocks him off his feet.

They’re being attacked.

Keith isn’t exactly sure if it’s a suddensurge of adrenaline or if he’s momentarily feeling better for some reason, butin less than five minutes, he’s dressed in his paladin armor at the bridge.

“It’s Lotor,” Pidge says, recognizing theship’s signature, “he’s just shooting randomly, but we have our particlebarrier up.”

“He’s not shooting randomly,”Lance points out, “why would he? He’s taunting us, like last time. Wants tomake us come out.”

“I agree,” Hunk says, “but what do we do?Do we go in the Lions and fight? Do we just ignore him? Can we do that?”

Keith sighs. The lights are way toobright, and the rush of adrenaline from earlier was short lived. The dizzinesscome back full force, and he has to sit down.

He lowers himself onto one of the pilotchairs and puts his head in his hands.

“No,”he says, voice hoarse and slightly nasal, “we have to go after him. We’ve beenlooking for him for almost two weeks.”

“Our defenses aren’t at their best rightnow,” Coran points out, “we have the particle barrier, but I don’t know howmuch longer it will hold up…”

“But if we don’t get him now, who knowswhen we’ll find him again-“

“Well it seems it’s him who’spursuing us now,so-“

The voices warp and mix in Keith’s head,making his ears ring. It’s a lot, too much, there’s too much noise, too muchlight-

“Just…shut up and let me think!”

His teeth chatter, jaws clacking as hisbody shakes with shivers. There are beads of cold sweat forming on hisforehead, and his skin is pale and clammy.

“Keith!”

Hunk runs to his side, one hand supportinghis back. Keith closes his eyes. The others keep moving around him, but hecan’t quite focus on their voices. His body feels too close and too distant atthe same time, and he tries to focus on Hunk’s fingers running through hisback.

“Allura, wormhole out!”

“Can’t he go in a cryopod? He’s…”

“…afraid not, they’re only…”

“…get it…around the barrier….”

“Hey.”

Lance taps his knee twice, looking up athim.

“You with us now?”

Keith swallows, and slowly lets air outthrough his mouth. His throat is tickling, and he feels something slowlybuilding up deep in his chest.

“We could have g-“

He’s unable to finish his sentence beforehe’s hit by a violent coughing fit, that throws him forward, as his throatspasms, sending tears to his eyes. His cheeks and ears burn, and he’s certainthat they’re beet red, even if he can’t see them.

“Damnit Keith, why didn’t you tell us youwere this sick…”

He catches his breath, but slumps backwardagainst Hunk, exhausted.

“It’s not that bad,” he tries to say, buthis voice cracks like it did when he was thirteen, “just a cold-“

“Enough with this nonsense!” Allura shakesher head, and promptly hoists Keith over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The sudden movement is too much on hishead and Keith lets out a whine. But that doesn’t faze Allura. She keepsstomping through the halls, carrying his weight like it was nothing, followedby the other paladins and Coran in a small procession.

Once in Keith’s room, she dumps him on thebed, as gently as she can.

It’s a little warmer here, but he stillshakes, and tries to make a grab for the blanket, weakly.

“He has a fever,” Pidge points out, touchingKeith’s forehead with the back of her hand.

“We don’t have meds for this,” Coran sayssadly, “the only thing we can do for now is let him rest.”

“Yeah, at least now he seems to agree,”Lance nods in Keith’s direction.

“We should probably get him out of hisarmor though,” Hunk suggests, “that can’t be comfortable.”

“I can do it,” Keith mumbles, voicemuffled against the pillow, and starts removing his wrist pieces. The otherstake off the leg armor, and then the chest plate, until he’s only in his blacksuit. Clumsily, he wraps himself in his blanket and buries his head in hispillow.

“Feel better,” they say, as they turn offthe lights to let him sleep.

“I brought you tea.”

Keith opens his eyes, slowly. It’s stilldark, but the door is open, and his eyes are adjusting to the lights from thehall.

Lance is there, holding a mug, sitting onthe edge of the mattress.

Keith rubs a hand over his eyes. It’s sohot. Thinking of hot tea makes him nauseous. He doesn’t want it.

Then he glances at the clock, and shootsawake.

With sluggish moves, he swings his legsout of the mattress and gets up.

“K-Keith! Where are you going?!”

Keith walks past him, slow but determined.

They would normally have dinner in anhour. How could he have slept through almost an entire day? It’s late, but nottoo late. He’s dead set on reaching the hangar. His legs move on muscle memory,because with the lights and walls swaying like they are, there’s no way Keithrecognizes where he is. But he needs to keep going.

Black sits in his usual spot, particlebarrier activated. Keith keeps going, teeth chattering as he shivers, eyes halflidded, the lights too bright for his head. Doesn’t matter. He stands in frontof the particle barrier, and it doesn’t come down.

“Let me in,” he says, determined, despitehis cracking voice, and knocks twice. The lion doesn’t budge, and neither doesthe barrier.

“Keith…” Lance trails off behind him,heart breaking at the realization.

“Come on! I gotta – we have to find Shiro!Come on!” He screams, and Lance winces at how his voice fails him. Keithdoesn’t seem bothered by it. “He was your pilot! Let me in! We have to findhim! Come on!”

Keith knocks more desperately, but thelion only turns his head to the side, effectively rejecting him. He sinks tohis knees with a thud, head in his hands.

“Comeon…”

Hunk and Pidge are standing by the door,appalled.

Keith had been angry, depressed, irritableand quiet before. They had all seen that. How could they miss something likethis? He had overworked himself to this state of sickness and despair, and theyhad let it happen.

Lance walks closer and places a hand onhis shoulder, and feels Keith shiver underneath it. From the way his voice hadcracked, he’s pretty certain Keith isn’t just cold. He kneels next to him, andwraps both arms around his shoulders.

Keith sniffles, hands still pushing thebarrier, but eventually buries his face on Lance’s shoulder. Lance’s shirt getswet in a matter of minutes. Keith is slumped forward, without any strength tomove by himself, still shaking and crying quietly. Lance rubs his back in softcircles, and that’s the only thing that seems to be working.

“Black is right,” Lance says after awhile, Keith with his face still hidden in his shirt, “you’re not in any shapeto go out.”

“Exactly,” Hunk adds, coming closer too,“you need to go back to bed and rest.”

Keith shakes his head. “I need to-“

He breaks into a coughing fit, immediatelybacking away from Lance to cough into his own elbow. The crackling deep in hischest can be heard from where Hunk is standing, and it sounds anything butpleasant.

“I – I gotta look for him. Please-“

“I’ll go.”

It’s Pidge, walking closer.

“I’ll look for him, Keith. I’ll look forhim while you rest,” she declares, determined.

Keith takes a while until he looks upagain, but nods, defeated.

He lets himself be picked up by Hunk, andcarried to his bed. Everything is confusing and hazy, but he feels somethingcold in his forehead, and it soothes the headache a little. Blankets are tuckedaround his hips and shoulders, and the warmth consumes him.

He lets go.

The fever goes down, to everyone’s relief.

Keith tries not to show his disappointmentwhen pidge comes back an hour later, on her own. He still thanks her with a sadsmile.

Hunk makes him more tea, from an Alteanplant recommended by Coran, and everyone makes rounds to his room to bring himmore. Eventually, someone helps him into his pajamas, and brings out the sweatsoaked black suit to the laundry.

He’s feverish in the middle of the night,again, but not disoriented. Thankfully Pidge had remembered of bringing himtissues earlier, because all the sneezing and coughing take way too much energyfrom him for him to go out to the bathroom to get toilet paper.

The coughing fits are relentless, and notthat the mucus has effectively settled in his chest, it’s a lot worse. Histhroat, on the other hand, is past the stage of burning, and into the stage ofhurting like hell.

He doesn’t get more than four hours ofsleep, and when he wakes up again, his abdomen hurts from the strain ofcoughing for so long, and he desperately needs something to drink to soothe histhroat.

It’s not like he’s gonna be able to getmore sleep soon, so he gets up with a quick grunt, and dresses his red paladinrobe. Lance had found it for him, in his own closet, and Keith has to admit,it’s comfortable and warm, and at least until the next bout of fever hits, he’sglad to have it.

There’s tea in a thermic container on thekitchen table, so he pours a mug to himself and puts it back again. He dragshimself through the lounge, mug in his hands, and takes a seat on the ring ofcouches.

He adjusts a blanket around him, and warmsup his hands on the mug. It’s still too hot to drink, probably, so he waits alittle and puts it down.

He closes his eyes and tries to massagehis neck with his fingers, before breaking into another coughing fit.

His throat hurts so bad.

Touching around his neck, his fingers feelslight bumps where his lymph nodes are. The swelling explain why it feels soterrible, but massaging them doesn’t seem to help, unfortunately.

After a while, he drinks from the mug oftea, with careful, small sips, and tries to bite back a frustrated groan. Thetea is supposed to help, and it does, to keep him warm, but it hurts so badwhen it goes down his throat.

“Feeling any better?”

Lance asks from behind him, his tonegentle but slightly teasing. Keith sighs.

“Not really,” he tries to say, but onlypart of it is audible, his voice cracking and hoarse, not much better thanyesterday.

“It’s what you get for trying to pretendyou’re not sick for almost two days, big leader,” Lance chuckles, turningaround the sofa and taking a seat.

Keith rolls his eyes and takes anothersip. His whole throat feels like it has been burned with a torch, and the onlyreason he keeps drinking his tea is to keep hydrated and feel warm.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Lance laughs.

“No, we only had to carry you to bedtwice, one of those when you were practically delirious…”

Keith sighs. He would argue, but he’s infar too much pain to do so. And even if he wanted to, it’s not like Lance iswrong.

If Shiro had been here… well, Keith wouldhave gotten the longest lecture about taking care of himself.

His chest aches, and it’s not just fromcoughing. What he wouldn’t give to get one lecture from Shiro right now.

Lance must notice something, because heinches closer and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, come on now, no need to be likethat,” he says, “one time I broke my ankle riding a kart and my brother had todrag me out of there kicking and screaming because I wanted to go anotherround…well, it was too cold, and I wasn’t feeling my foot, but when I realizedlater that…”

Keith leans back and lets Lance go on withhis story. He’s missing half of it, but he’s not being too loud, and havingcompany feels so much nicer than being on his own.

“…so yeah,” Lance finishes, “no shame init. We’ll carry you anytime you need.”

Keith chuckles. “Thanks, Lance.”

Lance picks up another blanket from thestack, and lays it folded across his lap, patting it twice. “You wanna try andget some more sleep? It’s still early.”

And, yes, maybe his fever is hittingagain, but Keith still lays his head on Lance’s lap and lets himself be takencare of. Lance’s stories lull him to sleep, and he feels comfortable. Safe.

#vld #badthingshappenbingo #keith #shiro #fanfic #bingo #a writes #m #i apologise for any mistakes #i really wanted to post this one but i did write it on a whim #so i hope you guys like it #colds #coughing #fevers #sore throat #muscle aches #headache #tears #angst

51 notes · View notes