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where-fantasy-meets-reality · 2 years ago

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“Reflections of A Distant Past” Chapter 3

Masterlist Chapter 2

Pairing: Ben Kenobi x Fem. Reader (second person)

W/C: 7.9K

Warning: Angsty Ben and a lot of it. Other than that nothing that I can think of.

A/N: Hello everyone! I apologize for the disappearance but as I am nearing the end of my grad program and focusing on my thesis, my appearances and updates will be less frequent. I took advantage of the blip of free time that I had during spring break and wrote this. I hope you all enjoy it, I really liked the second half of the chapter and the relationship and world-building that it allowed me to explore. I haven't forgotten about this story (or any of the others) and think about them daily... so one day I will return to continue and finish them. For now, enjoy this surprise update, and as always thank you for the support.

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There was something about the golden sun’s rays of late July that were different than other times of the season.

The last days of the hot summer that came with August, along with the dread that every school child felt, weren’t exactly alive yet. However, neither was the joyful optimism that everyone felt at the beginning of June, the idea of a whole summer filled with possibilities and untapped potential for a good time and everlasting memories.

You remembered those days fondly, having been a child and then a college student that relished the free time that the summer brought them.

Now though, as a business owner, summer vacations only met more customers who came in for their beach reading.

This particular week had been busy but today was quiet; after the rush of the prior days, you weren’t complaining. Running a “one-man show” could be stressful during those times, but you still wouldn’t trade it.

Due to all the foot traffic that the store had experienced, things were looking a little rough. The carpets and floors needed a good vacuum and sweeping, and the shelves needed to be reorganized (people had a bad habit of just putting a book down anywhere) and dusted. And you needed to prepare for the inventory that would arrive in the next few days.

Grabbing the feather duster, you decided to get to work on the shelves first. Walking to the speaker that was kept on the back counter behind the register, you put it on and opened up the music app on your phone. Cranking up the music a tad bit louder than you should have, you started cleaning.

It was after the lunch rush and before the after-work rush. If you got one customer an hour during this time, especially in the summer, you’d be very lucky.

Therefore, taking some time to self-indulge in a great playlist on shuffle while you cleaned would be more than okay.

You were about halfway through “100 years” by Five for Fighting when you heard the little belle on the door jingle.

“....I’m 33 for a moment….” you were singing along to the song.

As you were still singing along you turned toward the entrances of the store. “Hi welcome…”

Ben Kenobi stood by the counter, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans casually. He had on a dark green t-shirt today that contrasted so nicely from his mesmerizing blue eyes. “Hi, Emma.”

Oh… that accent stopped you in your tracks every single time. If you were going to start interacting with him more, you were going to have to do better at preparing yourself for stuff like this… even the small stuff, like his accent.

“Hey Ben….How are you?” You asked as your brushed your hair out of your face. Before he could answer you reached into your pocket and grabbed your phone lowering the music.

“That’s an interesting song….100 years right….” He jutted his chin out toward the phone, indicating to the music.

“Yeah….an oldie but a goodie….”

Ben’s smile widened with understanding.

“....I remember when it came out, I used to listen to it nonstop, literally.”

“Haha, oh yeah, how come?” Walking towards him you leaned against the counter, resting all your weight on one arm.

His eyes broke contact with yours and he bounced nervously on his feet as if your question made him feel uncomfortable.

You were starting to notice a slight pattern with him, anytime he was asked an overly personal question, he shifted the topic of conversation or he shied away from it.

Which left you with two observations. 1) he was either extremely insecure and shy or 2) Something had happened in his past and he didn’t like answering questions about himself because of it…or he couldn’t talk about it.

Judging by how this man carried himself, you were betting it was the second theory….which only deepened your burning curiosity about this intriguing individual.

“Ahhh…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “...You know how it is when you are young, you latch onto a song and just wear it out without understanding what it's really all about….I’m sure you did that as a young one.”

Nodding your head animatedly, you smiled brightly. “Oh yeah, that’s for sure. My parents would beg me to find a new song sometimes because they were tired of hearing the same one over again….that was the summer they caved and got me a walkman.”

When he smiled, a real genuine smile, you could tell because it reached his eyes and changed his whole expression. Gone was the standoff-ish shy person and the confident, warm and sincere person that Ahsoka had described him to be was in front of you.

“Anyways, that was a long time ago….I assume you are here for the book?”

He gave you a tight head nod. “Yes ma’am, I sure am….. I apologize for not answering your call, I was unavoidably detained.”

Circling behind the counter, you waved your hand where he could see it. “Not to worry Ben, most people don’t answer their phones these days. At this point, I expect to get people’s voicemails and then am stunned if they pick up.”

Grinning, he now leaned on the counter with both arms. “I will bare that in mind.”

Rising, you placed the box on the counter. “There we are….the collector’s version of A Study In Scarlet….just give me one second to update the store’s inventory, saying that you picked up the book….” glancing at him sideways, your lip perked up in a crooked smile, “...not that I would forget you stopping by, I just like to be thorough.”

“Of course….This business is important to you, and I wouldn’t want to see it disrupted by me….but I shall indulge in the fact, with your permission of course, that my stopping by is a memorable event.”

You were blushing, you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Of course it is.” You muttered, daring not to move your eyes away from the screen. “Alright, all set there….now let’s switch over here, I’ll cash you out, and then your good to go.”

“I can’t thank you enough for going the extra mile and ordering this for me….as I said to you last week, this book means a great deal to me, and there are many fond memories attached to it…I greatly appreciate it.”

Punching in the amount he owed you into the register, you shrugged your shoulders. “It is my pleasure Ben. That’s part of the services we offer…if there is ever any book out there that you want that I don’t have in stock, I am more than willing to help it get into a reader’s hands in any way I can.”

When you looked up from the register, about to tell him his total, you caught him staring at you.

“Kind, witty, helpful, and beautiful….is there no limit to the qualities you possess?”

Pursing your lips, you ignored him with a smile and gave him the total.

Reaching into his back pocket, he grabbed his wallet and pulled his credit card out.

As you swiped the card and closed out the transaction you finally gave him an answer. “Well thank you…..but you flatter me way too much….”

Handing him the receipt and his card, you noticed how his fingers diligently brushed against yours. His skin was incredibly warm again.

About to comment on it, you decided against it. You didn’t want to bombard him with too many questions and you knew that he was not big on talking about himself so you didn’t bring it up.

Ben put his receipt in his pocket and his credit card back into his wallet. He sighed as he finished. “Well, I guess this is it then….unless I just decide to come back tomorrow and order the rest of the Sherlock Holmes collection.”

You put your hands in mock surrender, “hey, I don’t tell you how to spend your money but I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it…seeing you is always a pleasure.”

“Shit.” that last part had slipped out.

Yet, to your delight, he didn’t seem put off by it. His smile only grew brighter.

Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his phone. Typing in a passcode, he briefly looked up. “Why don’t I get your number if that’s alright with you….that way if there are any other books I choose to order, I can be in touch with you easily.”

Not bothering to say anything, you practically grabbed his phone out of his hands and created a contact for yourself.

Ben arched an eyebrow as you were typing furiously. “Do you have an out-of-state number?”

“Nope. I am giving you both the number to the store and my personal cell…I don’t have a house phone or I’d give you that too…that way whenever book inspiration strikes, you can find me.”

“Perfect.” His voice was warm and soft.

Taking his phone back from you, he picked up the package from the counter. “Seriously Emma…Thank you again.”

Walking out from around the counter, you smiled ear-to-ear. “As I said before, it was my pleasure Ben. Just promise not to be a stranger, okay?”

A twinkle passed through his ocean-colored eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

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

Ben sat on the front steps of the old craftsman-style house, a cup of coffee in his hand. It was quiet, a sweet-smelling summer evening and the stars were sparkling in the vast, inky-colored sky.

He loved to sit on the porch at night and look at the stars. Growing up in London, stars were something he only caught glimpses of, the city fog and smog always covering the sky in thick blankets. But here….now…he took every opportunity he could to sit and enjoy their beauty. It also helped that this was the space and time he used to clear his head and center himself…a self-check-in type thing. Being alpha, a clear head was an important thing to have… fogginess or uncertainty could have unintended consequences or cause other members to be restless.

On the nights when there was no deep brooding that was he being done, he still came to this place just to enjoy the agreeable weather and the outdoors.

Sometimes he brought a book or a crossword puzzle. On rare occasions, an audiobook…although that was not his favorite option, as he felt it distorted from the beautiful sounds that outdoors had to offer.

Tonight though, he just sat in silence, pensively staring at the sky, enjoying everything the natural world had to offer.

Crickets chirped to their own melody and in the distance, the owls joined in chorus with their soft hoots.

Every so often, a firefly would pass by, glowing brightly.

The moon was still and large, a silvery glowing orb that hung menacingly in the night sky….well, for him it was menacing.

Before, like every kid in the 19th century, the moon was one of the world’s greatest mysteries and wonders…. and just looked really darn cool.

But now….for him, the moon represented something completely different.

Scoffing at the orb, he shifted and leaned against the white wooden collum that was attached to the red brick front steps.

For a pack headquarters, the house wasn’t much by any means. A lot of werewolf alphas he knew lived in large, grand houses that were big enough for their whole packs to live in if they needed to.

Yet, that wasn’t what Ben wanted, and additionally, he already lived with his entire pack. Any closer and the four of them would start snarling at each other due to dominance issues. Packs like to be close and tight-knit, but a wolf still needs their freedom to run.

This time around, when they had moved into town, he had picked the house they were to live in. He had chosen an older craftsman home that was built in 1912, one of those Sears home catalog houses that had come in a package with the precut lumber and everything needed to assemble.

At 4,000-ish square feet, a three-car garage, four bedrooms, and two floors, she was pretty much perfect in his eyes. A double wooden front door with a large, beautiful front porch, lots of big pretty windows, and made out of sturdy wood and stone, it had not taken him much to convince the others that this should be the place they settle down in this time.

All these years later, with some modern upgrades, the house was still standing soundly. Sure, it creaked now and again, and sometimes the wifi had issues, but he appreciated her quality and her charm. It also reminded him of the simpler times he was desperate for.

And, at the end of the day, the house was four walls and a roof that kept them safe, warm, and together. It wasn’t large or grand, but just right for a pack of four unsuspecting werewolves who wanted to go unnoticed in the world they lived in. And, it was a heck of a lot better than some of the other places they had lived in…by a long shot…

The location had been perfect too. They were right on the edge of town, but not so far out in the boonies where getting to the city was a hassle. The house sat on a decent size of land, enough for them to have more than enough privacy.

Ben sighed as swished the contents of his mug around. Checking his watch, he realized he had been sitting out there for a while…which would explain why his coffee had gone cold.

He gave a “hmp” as his mind went back to the original reason that brought him outside with nothing but his thoughts.

But before he could too lost in his own thoughts, from inside the house Ben could hear footsteps approaching the door, and by the gate of the person walking and their sent, he already knew who it was. He took a deep breath to center himself in preparation.

The door swung open quickly.

“Crying out loud Ben….How loudly are you going to brood out here? Any more of it and I’m going to stage a full-scale pack intervention.”

Anakin stood in the doorway, half hanging out of it, looking at his oldest friend who hadn’t even bothered to turn around and acknowledge him.

Ben chuckled softly. “I haven’t even said a word.” His voice was calm and soft, communicating to Anakin that hadn’t been rattled by his intrusion.

He heard the door click closed and Anakin’s footsteps about a half second before the man sat down next to him.

“Yeah, well that’s not what the pack bonds say…I can feel and hear half of your thoughts remember?”

Ben rolled his eyes, “Don’t remind me,” he groaned.

Anakin shifted and leaned his back against the stones that made up the side of the house. “Seriously….why all the moodiness? She’s a girl, not a banshee….”

Ben just choose to stare into his coffee cup and ignore the comment.

Nudging the other man’s foot with his, Anakin inclined his head. “Come on, you definitely need to talk to someone…let it be me… you are always there for me, let me return the favor….Plus…” he pursed his lips, “I think I’m the only person that can help….”

Ben gave a loud sigh, allowing the breath he had been holding in to escape and causing his shoulders to relax. Out of the corner of his eye could see the bright blue eyes of his second beaming at him. Finally smiled. “Oh, alright….fine….Yes….You know me pretty well at this point…and you do have a lot more relationship experience than I do….”

“And I’m a werewolf,” Anakin said pointing his index finger in the air.

Slightly nodding his head up and down, he continued not to look at Anakin. “That too.”

A silence fell over them as both men sat leaning against opposite sides of the house, one continuing to swirl the contents of his coffee cup in his hand, the other expectantly looking at the other man, waiting for him to say something and open up.

Even though it was not his intention, Ben was really starting to irk Anakin with the silent treatment.

“Well?!” He huffed with a wave of his hands.

“Well, what?!” Ben sighed defensively, his accent more British than he meant to be.

The younger man (although they physically looked the same age) pursed his lips into a straight line. “...Ben….You’ve got something on your mind…and I know it’s got to do with several things but the girl is a big part of the angst….. so just start from the beginning and skip the “I hate being a werewolf part” because I am well versed in your version of that internal battle.”

Finally turning toward him, Ben looked at him with an expression Anakin couldn’t initially place. “You never hated it or struggled with it…..being this monster?”

His voice was quite like he was ashamed to ask such a question.

“Not for a second…I choose this remember?…and I don’t consider myself a monster”

“Because of me…You choose this lifestyle because I corrupted you to it…” Ben huffed irritatedly.

Anakin bobbed his head back and forth in thought. “Debatable….arguable…but ultimately…I don’t think it was all you so don’t give yourself all the credit….I mean, you raised me, took me in when I was a 10-year-old orphan on the streets….so yeah, there was that connection…as a kid, I got to watch you run around and do all these cool things as a wolf that I couldn’t wait to do and wanted to do so badly”

“I wouldn’t call them cool” Ben whispered under his breath

“….and when the time came…the thought of getting to spend eternity as a supernatural creature with my best friend…well…no brainer…” Anakin spoke to his friend.

Ben shook his head. “I have never once felt that way, ever.” His expression glum.

Anakin opened his mouth and closed it, thinking before he said something.

“....I think the way it happened to you has everything to do with your thoughts and emotions tied to being a werewolf….and honestly…I think if I was in your situation…I might feel that way too…”

Raising his eyebrows and looking back at his cup again, Ben murmured, “...at least it’s not only me who came to that conclusion…”

“No it’s not….but what does all that have to do with Emma? If you have felt that way from the first day, why is that particular emotional battle conflicting you more so than usual….and whats her connection?”

Wide-eyed, Ben turned to Anakin, “Seriously?.... It has everything to do with her….”

His head flew back and Anakin let out a tiered groan, “Oh please, tell me the connection isn’t “I’m a werewolf, and she is a human, it’s dangerous crap…”

Ben scoffed at Anakins imaptientness.

“....Come on man!…you were human once too, you still look like one… People can be attracted to something different…..it’s not so bad…. Padme was a human when I met her….”

“Something I was expressly against,” Ben mumbled firmly as he took a sip of his coffee.

“And Im so glad I didn’t listen to you!… She ended up being my mate…..think about for a second Ben….a once-in-a-billion chance for our kind, something that some of us never find….I found my mate….and had I listened to your sour self, I would have lost that opportunity.”

“Emma is not my mate, so that argument does not apply….” His eyes stared off into the distance as if he was waiting for something to appear in the middle of the street by magic.

“How do you know?” Anakin fired back, growing more impatient.

“Because she’s not.”

Leaning forward, Anakin moved into Ben’s vision, settling in for a long lecture. “Are you so sure? You’ve told me you just say things around her that you don’t mean to say, that she relaxes you and makes you comfortable in a way that no humane ever has, before or after your change….she gives you a feeling of hope like everything is okay in the world….That your wolf responds to her positively….”

Ben just shrugged his shoulders.

“Ugghhhh!!!!....I got news for you pal, anytime that thing inside us responds to anyone positively, they’re a keeper….Our wolves are predators by nature, they don’t like people that aren’t pack and he likes her….add all that together and it sounds like a very, very strong match, or…just maybe…you found your mate…”

Ben’s shoulders sunk lower and his head dropped. “...But I had someone already who I loved….I was engaged….”

He turned his head away so Anakin couldn’t see the glossy shine that had formed on his eyes or his lip quiver. It was a foolish attempt though… through the pack bonds not only could Anakin feel Ben’s burst of emotion, but he could feel the intense sadness creeping over him.

A hand touched Ben’s shoulder. “.....Ben…. it has been over 130 years, your devotion is admirable…but….I think you are okay to love again…I don’t think there is a person on this earth or beyond it who would fault you…I bet if you could ask Shopie what she thought, she would tell you to go for it…”

Ben openly flinched at the mention of her name…He didn’t often speak it out loud… but he didn’t answer Anakin; mainly because the younger man kept going.

“....And….” Anakin stiffened his stance, braced for a verbal or physical attack…. Or possibly both depending on how Ben took the next thing he said…. “...You know you weren’t actually engaged, right?….you had only bought the ring just that day…You never actually proposed.”

He winced, expecting the wolf to take over the man and react violently…

but he had braced for an attack that never came.

Ben instead was looking up a the sky, his stance calm, his breathing even, and his eyes were the crystal blue that belonged to the man, not the golden color of the wolf. When he did speak his voice was hoarse…“But in my mind, I was already committed to her…I had been mentally for some time….I had known her since she was born, our families were always together…it was always hinted that one of my brothers or I would marry someone in their family….”

The silence hung between them, like an oppressive blanket attempting to smother them both.

Collecting his courage, Anakin broke the silence. “Did she ever marry?”

For all the time he had known Ben, he never discussed his human life at length because it always brought him great pain. It had literally taken Anakin about 100 years to get Ben to give fuller, more intricate depictions of his life before the change.

Ben shrugged his shoulders. “I do not know….I assume….I never bothered to follow up on what happened to anyone from old life because…well….because…”

He frowned. “...I hope she did, as much as that stings…she didn’t deserve to be alone because of my fate and stupidity…She was so wonderful…no one that wonderful deserves a lifetime of loneliness and servitude.”

“So why should you be punished? Why should you suffer a fate you wouldn’t wish on her?”

Ben was silent, trying to control his sadness and growing anger that was fueled by bitterness. The wolf wanted to spring out of him and fight with his second in command until he learned his palace, to never question his alpha again….

But that's not who Ben was….not the man, who strived to keep alive every day. The human Ben was open to different opinions, diplomatic and understanding, he would want the input and advice of someone as loyal as Anakin.

Stilling himself, he eventually came back to his original argument.

“….We are monsters…. Even you have to admit there is a degree of danger that comes with dating a human….Around me, she is a liability to herself and she doesn’t know it, and she could become a target for so many other things…”

“That we can protect her from,” Anakin interjected.

Ben eyed him strongly. “We’re not a big pack, we can easily be outnumbered.”

“And that’s because of you Mr. Alpha.” Anakin snapped.

Ben shot him another warning look, now a hint of gold in his eyes, and Anakin scooted back a bit and raised his hands.

“Hey, I’m just saying…we’ve been around a long time” his head gestured back and forth between the two of them… “ …even longer for you, as much as you hate being what you are now, you’ve met a lot of others who are just like us…You could have made our pack a lot bigger and more powerful, not that I’m complaining, I like it just us…”

“I am not a leader, not when it comes to being a werewolf….on a good day I am not even overly joyed at my situation and my anger towards it is something I’ve never let go of…”

Anakin reached out and put a hand on Ben’s shoulder again, attempting to change the direction of the conversation. “I think you should go for it with Emma and let go of this pain….We would have your back no matter what and we want you to be happy, as your family and as your pack..…. Plus, you know what they say, happy alpha, happy pack….”

Despite Anakin’s attempt at a joke to break the tension, Ben was still solemn.

“I’m just so afraid of what could be…what potential dangers live on the horizon….and so ashamed of what I am…I feel that she deserves better…I can never give her a normal life….I am afraid that my very association with her will bring her harm…or us harm…a human can be a problem for a wolf pack if she ends up connected to the pack bonds and something happens to her….”

“Ben, you're spiraling….first off…asking her out on one date isn’t going to change the fate of the universe. Secondly, we’ve done this all before, with Padme…This is the same scenario, she was a human, and I was a werewolf…. we made it work and we can do it again, we already know what to expect..… Just think, we didn’t even have Ahsoka when we brought Padme in, and now we have an extra wolf fo….”

Ben interjected. “Yeah, but you changed Padme within a year and then you two got married…”

“So, we can do the same to her if she wants…” Anakin exclaimed with excitement.

Yet….by the time Anakin realized that there was the potential opportunity to change Emma into a werewolf, he remembered that was the wrong thing to say at this moment…. but it had been too late.

Ben had perfected control over his inner beast a long time ago, but at Anakin’s suggestion, the yellow that shined through his eyes would make anyone think that was a lie.

“NO!” he growled, the sound coming from low and deep in his chest. “She will never be what we are...”

That wasn’t Ben talking….that was his wolf…..

Inside a werewolf, there would always be a dominance battle between the human soul of the person, and the wolf…..Kind of like two people sharing the same space but being connected as one… Even the wolves who were very old and considered themselves to have “dominated” their beast still had to deal with another presence inside of them all the time.

Sometimes a trigger, like what Anakin had said to Ben, could cause the wolf to rise to the surface in an attempt to dominate the situation.

That was never a good thing, that was when werewolves were the most unpredictable.

Very slowly, Anakin backed away slowly realizing that this time he really had ticked his superior off. A smarter person would have taken that as the cue to stop pushing the topic….but Anakain never considered himself that person. He was as dominant as his alpha…possibly even more so. His desire not to lead and stay carefree was what caused his master to assume the role that he had.

Unlike Ben, he was a realist. Anakin kept his voice and body language neutral… “Ben…if you get close to her and you two do…you know, really fall in love..she may want the change so she can be around for…well as long as you are…Padme wanted it when we decided to marry…who are we to stop her….”

“NO!” Ben snarled loudly as the cup in his hands shattered. Coffee and blood covered his hands as the pieces of the broken ceramic clanged on the brick steps as they hit the ground.

The door from the house opened and Padme came outside and handed Ben a wet towel for his hands. She knew bandages weren’t necessary. In a few minutes, the cuts would scab and by the time he went to bed, his hands would be completely healed.

She took the spot Anakin had been occupying and sat down, leaning her shoulder against the house like he had. “As much as I know you don’t want to hear it Ben, Annie is right….I wanted to be with the man I fell in love with forever…his version of forever.”

Ben rolled his eyes.

“....And I was against that….He took your life away Padme…” Ben snarled as he wiped his hands. “...I will not ruin her life that way….and turn her into some kind of vicious creature that she’ll be constantly at war with…no, never.”

Padme was an omega…always the lowest ranking member of any pack, but by no means submissive. Because of her status in the pack, she wasn’t a credible threat to Ben’s wolf and his dominance, thereof she was probably the only person who could or should be talking to him right now about this topic or with him in this state. The fact that she was married and mated to the pack's second….was something that could be ignored at the moment.

Werewolves were tricky. They were very aggressive creatures who liked tradition and hierarchy. Yet, due to the human that he was, Ben had worked hard to negotiate with his wolf and do things differently than other packs did…well, not so different that it was new… but it was enough that it took the wolf half of him some getting used to.

The human side of Ben wasn’t a possessive, aggressive, or territorial person, the opposite really. But Ben was dominant, even as a man. At first, the battle between man and beast had been a brutal one, an inner war that raged and wore Ben out and had taken him years to win.

Eventually, the two beings learned to get along and came to agreements on what each would tolerate.

That was one of the problems in Ben’s pack had that no other pack had….or at least out of the ones that he had come across.

All four pack members were dominant beings, making their wolves more of the leadership type.

Their rankings in the pack were split by hairs; making it very easy for one member of the group to overstep their boundaries…something that could be very dangerous for a werewolf.

For example, Ahsoka technically outranked Padme in dominance, but because Anakin and Padme were married and he was the pack’s second in command, Padme took her rank from her husband.

Sometimes it caused problems, as there were so many dominant people in a small social group. But for the sake of family, they all had learned to control their wolves and stick together as a unit. At the end of the day, pack was important.

“Do you still feel that way now Ben? Are you still against me being in the pack?” Padme's voice was a whisper as her warm eyes stared at the sky.

Anakin smirked, he loved how his wife was so quietly clever, he could see the trap she was laying for Ben, who was too busy brooding and cleaning his bloodied hands to notice.

“Of course not Padme…You’re Anakin’s mate and you’ve become like a sister to me…I value you and your company…I love you…” He said without skipping a beat, his attention focusing on his task had allowed him to speak from the heart.

Leaning forward, she kissed Ben on the cheek, a slightly dangerous thing to do with his wolf so close to the surface; but she trusted him. Another dumb thing for her to do.

Never trust a human whose wolf is that close to the surface.

“And I love you too…You are a brother and alpha all in one….You are my family as much as you are Anakin’s. And, because of that, I want to see you happy…Just give it a chance Ben, if it doesn't work out, we move….”

He sighed. “I don’t want to move just now, not again…Ahsoka just finished her junior year of high school and is about to go into her senior year…”

Anakin rolled his eyes, “Yeah for…what…the thousandth time?”

Padme giggled. “I think she’s gone through 15 high school graduations…Sure, she’s attended more years than that, but she only made it to actual graduation 15 times…”

“Exactly,” Anakin said as he shifted and put his hand on Padme’s shoulder. “If we move I think she will be okay…”

Ben shook his head. “No, a responsible alpha looks after his pack in all areas….she has friends this time, she’s getting good grades for the first time in two decades, and she’s taking care of herself during full moons…. She has a job at the cafe and she enjoys it… she’s fitting in socially, which historically has been hard for her to do…and she really likes it here….”

He shook his head. “No, I put my pack first….”

“And your pack wants you to be happy…Yes…there is no denying that Ahsoka would find it hard to leave, but there’s nothing saying we can’t come back in a year or two… it’s not like she couldn’t stay in touch with the friends she made…she was always good at surviving by herself…Plus….it’s not like she’ll be able to keep up with them…Eventually, we’ll have to move or they will enter into a phase of life that she can not…” Padme’s voice trailed off as she considered the eventual reality.

“But she knows this.” Anakin butted in hoping to save the conversation from becoming sad again. “She was around way before she joined our pack….She’s had connections with people that she’s had to let go of and she knows what to expect…. it's a fact that every werewolf comes to terms with.”

Ben looked at the couple. “Sometimes I forget that she survived 40 years on her own…without us…at times she just…looks so young and helpless….”

As if being summoned by magic, Ahsoka’s tiny indigo-blue Toyota Corolla pulled into the driveway.

One perk of having a mechanic in the family was that Anakin was able to fix any car that was needed or wanted. While the car may not be the newest or the prettiest and they could definitely afford better, Ahsoka had fallen in love with the color and spunk of the little car, which she ended up demanding that her older “brother” turn it into a reliable car.

Stepping out into the warm summer air, she took off the cap that had the coffee house logo on it. Her blue and white blond striped hair shimmered in the moonlight. She looked at them skeptically. “What are you all doing out here? Or are you waiting for something to fall out of the sky?... Which you don’t have to cuz, here I am.” She said with a wide grin.

Anakin smiled and gave her a small wave. “No, we’ve been sitting out here a while despite having heard your car about a mile down the road…I know the way that engine purs anywhere.”

“Ugh, weirdo.” Ahsoka teased as she walked up to the steps of the house.

Looking at the towel in Ben’s now scabbed hands, she became suspicious of why they were really sitting out there. “You okay? You were brooding pretty badly about 45 mins ago..”

Ben threw his head back frustratedly. “Not you too,” he mumbled grumpily.

Shifting her backpack and putting a hand on her hip she gave him a full wave of hr “tude” as Anakin called it. “...Hey, it’s cuz we care….You were the only alpha I agreed to join up with after decades of being a lone wolf, remember that.” Ahsoka crossed her arms. “...Lots of macho creeps had tried to get me into their packs, but I choose you three misfits.”

“That’s cuz you love us.” Padme beamed from below.

“Wholeheartedly.” Ahoksa winked at her.

Turning back to Ben again, she addressed him. “If this is about Emma, you already know how I feel. I am all for it…I really like her and I’ve gotten to know her in the almost two years she’s consistently been coming by the cafe… she is a good soul….”

“Which exactly is the problem.” Ben rasped, to everyone’s collected groans of frustration.

“Oh please Ben, if she wasn’t you wouldn’t be interested. You’ve never even considered anyone else but Sophie…yes, I know…you were “engaged” to her all those years ago, I think you are overdue for something good..…and Emma has dated her fair share of losers, she is overdue for something good as well…” Ahsoka snapped... “I don’t know…,” she threw her hands in the air, “do what you want, but I’d like to see the two of you make each other happy.”

She leaned forward and grabbed his shoulders, looking her alpha in the eye. “The girl quotes Sherlock Holmes readily and owns a bookshop….what more of a green light do you need?”

If Ben was a different type of alpha, Ahsoka’s actions could have had a very different effect and result on the situation…it could have been seen as a challenge or an act of aggression….but Ben wasn’t “that alpha” ….or that type of man.

In fact, it made everyone giggle, even him.

Stepping away from him, she rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to bed, work starts early tomorrow….don’t brood too loudly or please shield your thoughts…Oh, better yet, here's a wild idea…. JUST GO CALL HER.”

“Good night Ahsoka.” Ben drolled.

She shook her head as she maneuvered the steps in between everyone.

“Oh!” She turned around as she reached the door,, “I almost forgot…my friend Hera is having a sleepover Sat. night with some of the girls from the school, can I go?”

“Do you need to ask?” Ben turned to look at her, sporting an amused expression.

Ahsoka blushed. “Not really, no...but…I like to…it just…feels right when I dot.”

Everyone smiled softly. She may be 83 years old in actuality, but there was a part of her that would always be the 17-year-old girl she looked like…..it also meant that after all these years, the lone wolf was starting to enjoy her pack bonds.

“I have no objections,” Anakin whispered.

“Just promise to be safe and keep your phone with you.” Padme pointed her finger at her.

“I promise.” Ahsoka blurted out as her eyes darted to Ben, who as alpha really had the final say.

“Who else is going?” He questioned.

He already knew his answer, but he just wanted some details…sneaky dad-type stuff.

“These two other girls from 4th-period math last year…Sabine, and Bariss….they’re really nice actually… it’s refreshing for people from this generation…”

Ben nodded his head slowly. “Will her parents be home?”

Ahsoka’s eyebrow arched. “....Yes they will, her dad is kinda strict in fact….but I can promise you, no matter the level of harmless mischief we get up to…I am in no danger whatsoever…Trust me, this isn’t that sort of group.”

This was true…if anything, Ahsoka was a danger to all of them. But he knew her and trusted the level of control she had over her wolf…he just liked to make sure she was safe.

Softening his expression, he smiled a toothless smile, his lips pressed together.

“I’m okay with you going as well….Just remember to at least text us before you go to bed so we know everything is all well and good… the sleepover will be taking place the day after tomorrow and the moon will still be relatively full…”

Ashoka squealed before Ben could finish. She leaped forward and hugged him from behind. “Thanks dad! I promise I will.”

Darting into the house and running up the stairs, she hadn’t even fully closed the door behind her. Ben blushed at the term of endearment as he shifted on the steps.

He would never be her father, but it wouldn’t stop him from looking at her like his daughter.

Nodding towards the open door, Ben eyed Padme and Anakin. “See…perfect example, Ahsoka at a sleepover…There was a time when we couldn’t get her to even talk to the other students at lunch…let alone sleep over at their house.”

Anakin surrendered in defeat and got up to go into the house without saying anything. He had enough of trying to persuade Ben for one evening.

Padme scooted closer to her alpha. “I understand, and I agree…I am just as thrilled as you are to see it…but all that means is that everyone is finally secure. Anakin and I are always going to be okay so long as we have each other…Ahsoka is blossoming…so that now means you are the only one left to finally become settled…you have to take care of yourself every now and then…”

She leaned in and kissed the top of his head. “Just be patient with yourself and be open…give her a text and then actually give her a chance…even if you go slow and become friends first, a special friend is a nice thing to have if that's all it ends up being.”

Knowing that Padmes’s words were true in the sense that she believed them and meant them only in goodwill, he decided to put the topic away for the evening, as he knew they weren’t going to reach a unanimous consensus, at least not tonight. For the time being, they would all silently have to agree to disagree.

He smiled. “Ture…thank you, darling, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Don’t stay out here too long.” She muttered as she went inside and closed the door gently behind her.

Ben snorted a short laugh. This is the one place that would be quiet if he stayed home tonight. Ahsoka was most likely either watching tv or listening to music before she went to sleep…and Padme and Anakin were…well… he knew their nighttime routine before they went to bed.

The joys of supernatural hearing and a small house.

If he stayed outside he would be able to actually think, and he certainly had been given a lot to think about.

He debated changing forms and going for a run to clear his mind….but he knew it would only cause him to dwell further…

Maybe his pack mates had been right.

- - - - - - - - - -

Ben plopped down on his bed, staring at the snow-colored ceiling. Having given up and tired of fighting his restless energy, the nighttime jog he went for around the neighborhood in human form had been what he needed.

He had been agonizing and going back and forth over this decision with himself since everyone had retired for the evening. After coming back, he showered and retreated to the solidarity of his room.

It was 9:00 PM…he knew he needed to do this before it became any later and he appeared rude or awkward.

And waiting till tomorrow wasn’t an option.

He’d be tossing and turning throughout the night, restless as all hell if he put it off any more than he already had… and he had a long day of research ahead of him tomorrow at work.

Picking up his phone, he opened the texting app and choose the correct contact.

The blinking cursor taunted him as it was impatiently blinking, waiting for him to type what he wanted it to say.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he knew it was now it never….he had come to the conclusion that until he just did it and took the leap of faith, he wouldn’t know how it all go.

“What if?” would haunt him. That if he didn’t do it and never found out what could have been between them….then that would really add to his continuous self-loathing and guilt…and drive his curiosity absolutely crazy.

What he had told Anakin was true, he had felt engaged to Sophie long before he bought the ring… in his mind, he had been Shopie’s future husband and she had been his future wife since he started seriously courting her.

That’s how it was back then….You only made serious advances at people you intended to marry.

Even back then when the gesture of a fan or an invitation for a dance meant so much more, Ben wasn’t the type to string girls along or court just to give society something to gossip about….He had believed all the hubbub that had been drilled into him as a child, that marriage was permanent and very serious.

But that had been in the 1870s-80s…..The rules of courtship and dating changed so drastically since then, and he had paid so little attention to that scene after he changed.

Sometimes if he wondered if he could even do it, date like a modern man?

He had 130-ish years to think about something that left him hollow and broken on the inside. How different things were then compared to now…what his romance was like…

But did he really know Shopie…beyond the ideals of a Victorian courtship that is? Did he know her the way couples knew each other today when they got engaged?

No, he didn’t.

He and Sophie had never even been alone longer than 5 minutes without either of their siblings or parents present, or some other third party….he only knew about the person she presented herself to be in public….Not that he imagined the real Sophie was much different…..

As children they had spent more time together in closer contact…it was until they became older that society's rules and expectations for their friendship “changed”....but did that mean she did? The little girl he knew was kind, intelligent, and loved to laugh…the young woman had seemed to be all those things but so much more….reserved.

Being a historian had given him the opportunity and excuse to study the world in which he had grown up in through the eyes of history. From a civilization that advanced and moved on in every way…and he was further in a unique position….he had his own memories that he could compare against books, records, personal accounts….

What had seemed like a rational dating practice in 1885 now seemed obscured….people back then were flying on a wing and a prayer compared to couples today, who were allowed to be themselves….

He had spent 130 years thinking about this, more than any human could have spent.

9:05 P.M.

Now even the clock was taunting him.

Everyone was right….

He had reasoned with himself to the point of madness, this choice was never going to get any easier to make… it was simply now or never…do or do not….

he knew what he needed to….what he wanted to do.

@nanagoswife @transcending-time @sillynilly27 @thewhitedannimal @kirstenvldfan21 @the-clones-and-me @hugmekenobi @naughtyry @nicole-lightfoot @janebby

#Obi-Wan Kenobi #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi #obi-wan #obi wan fanfiction #Obi-wan Kenobi X Reader #obi-wan kenobi fanfic #obi-wan X reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #Ben Kenobi #obi-wan Kenobi imagine #obi wan x reader #obi-wan needs a hug

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fratboykate · 2 years ago

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How are you so fast at writing? It seriously blow my mind.

lol remember when I cranked out the first 100k of cfau in like 7 days or something??? that's two novels lololol. i've always been an insanely fast writer if...im feeling it. ive written features in five days. i'll literally wake up one random morning and be like "shiiiiiiiit, this is a cool idea for a movie!" and then i sit down and just...write it. less than a week later, i have a first complete draft. we're talking like 120-130 page script from conception to "fade to black". i also don't think the first draft of a pilot has ever taken me more than 6-7 days to write.

obviously, that's not how it's going to go out the door and it needs rewrites and polishes, but once I have a complete first draft of anything, the rest is a breeze. I can do a full pass of changes in 12-16 hours. my agent has told me more than once: "i mean this in the best way possible, but you're a fucking freak." she says that because most clients they have write maybe one script a year or every two years. if i remember correctly, last year i wrote two features, four pilots, and three pitch decks for things that we can go out and pitch but that i don't want to write a script for because it doesnt make sense to have a script for it yet. and that's just the shit that makes it to script/deck. all the time i'm calling my reps up like "what do you think of this idea?" and they're either going to go 1) "that's awesome. bring me a script or a pitch." (most of the time I already have it lol) 2) "it's great, but that would never sell right now. the market/buyers are not leaning that way. table it and we can revisit." or 3) "you need to go back to the drawing board on that." im CONSTANTLY giving them new shit to take out just because of how freakishly fast i write. ive had execs tell me: "you know you don't have to turn in rewrites within 24 hours, right??? like......we're not expecting that??? no one does that???" and im like..."but it was done. why wouldn't i deliver it?" lol

but that's IF I'M FEELING IT. sometimes i get stuck or i am not connecting to the characters after a certain point in the story. if i lose the thread, then there's an issue. there are a couple things on my "to-do" right now that have been there for ages because im not feeling them. at the very top of the year, i told my agents/managers "no more comedy" because everything that's on the pile right now is comedy shit that i sold as pitches last year. they're great ideas that people are excited about, but now i get to the script and im like "ah fuck...why did i do that??? im not a comedy writer" lol

but yeah, i cant explain it. everyone in real life thinks im a freak of nature or something, but im not complaining. it's definitely a weird skill that im veeeeeeeeeeeeeryyyyyyyy thankful for. makes my job so much easier.

#rants #anonymous #answers #tbd

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blazichu · 3 years ago

Text

Lorb Entries 1-12

Entry 1: So, I had a weird meeting this morning. Kaden came in. Apparently the council liked my mapping work on Savali enough that they want me to expand it. By mapping every dimension. In existence. Yeah... that might be impossible.

Entry 2: Okay, I thought about it over lunch and I don't think it's THAT impossible. I'll just need the Dimensionator, which Kaden loaned me, a year and three weeks, which has already been approved, and to never sleep again. Work starts tomorrow!

Entry 3: Mapped my first dimension today! Pretty standard stuff, except the colors there were SO vivid, like, whoa. And there were these creatures; one of them even looked like a lombax, but he had smaller ears, a mask and a cane, and... I think he was pulling some kind of heist? Whatever it was, it looked cool.

Entry 4: Second dimension down, not as colorful as the first one, but the creatures were definitely stranger. Their bodies were made of these old relics, but they could break apart and still... be alive. It was so wild. And now I wish I had asked Kaden for more time. I just want to learn the stories of all these dimensions.

Entry 5: Third dimension was... cubes. Really, really smart cubes. I don't know what else to say there except I might have to stop doing these for every dimension I visit, 'cause there's a little bit less than an infinite amount left, and I could have mapped 32 in the time since I started talking. Okay, bye.

Entry 6: Good news: mapping's going well. Bad news: uh, apparently not well enough, because Kaden just asked me to go faster? Wouldn't say why, but he sounded stressed, so I let it go. Hmph, faster. Okay, like it's that easy... Well, good thing I stopped doing those recordings-- wait, I'm doing one now, aww...

Entry 7: I know I was going to stop doing these recordings, but I can carve out some time every once in awhile, 'cause I'm a genius. Dimension 31x7. Not super different from home, but there were these creatures... One was firing a gun and spinning himself around every other second while the other hung out on his shoulder doing live commentary. Oh, I wanted to hang out with them so badly!

Entry 8: I finally figured out a way to map even faster! Kaden might kill me, but listen: instead of all the cranking and pulling a trigger to use the Dimensionator, I just converted the whole thing into a helmet that runs on voice commands. I mean, you can't argue with the results, and if he does... I'll just complain about it here.

Entry 9: Dimension 242y8. Quite possibly the cutest dimension I've ever seen! The inhabitants were all made of... wool, I think? They could literally make ANYTHING. And there was a really pleasant voice following me around everywhere, oh, it was incredible. Oh, and what's even better? I think I'm finally close to mapping my last dimension!

Entry 10: So, tomorrow I'm gonna sleep in for an hour... 'cause I'm DONE baby! I mapped every single dimension in existence! Wooo! Oh, I can't WAIT to see Kaden's face when I give him the map... and tell him that I'll be going back to all those dimensions soon. There's still so much I can learn!

Entry 11: Uh, I found out why Kaden has been so stressed lately. Something bad's going on. Bad enough that we need to hide as many lombaxes as we can, and I guess all of my mapping work was to help find the perfect dimension for us to hide in. So... yeah. Hope I didn't screw anything up.

Entry 12: This is my final recording. If you're listening to this, that means you didn't make it to the new dimension with us, and... and I'm so sorry. We're-- we're trying hard to get everyone now, but our race is scattered across so many dimensions, it's... This is not farewell. I left a copy of my Dimensional Map in the Archives a-and I marked down where we're all going. I wish I could have left you a Dimensionator too, but, uh, hey... I'm only one lombax. I hope you find your way back to us, and if you do, please, look me up! My name's Mags, and I'd love to hear your story.

#ratchet and clank #rift apart #couldn't find a transcription anywhere and #i got sick of having to rewatch the video every time i wanted to check lorb content #so i decided to transcribe it myself for future reference #but i figure having a written version on hand is helpful so here you go #please forgive any typos #it looks okay rn #but i could've missed something

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cinematicnomad · 4 years ago

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1, 7, 25 for the fanfic end of year ask :)

001. favorite fic you wrote this year i have a soft spot for take my hand (take my everything) which was the first fic i wrote this year! and kind of the first step back into writing creatively on something new that wasn’t the 7 year monster sterek fic. also my first foray into 9-1-1 fic and was just a lot of fun!

007. longest completed fic you wrote this year the longest fic i wrote was my second for the year! so show me (family) wound up being around 16k+ for 9-1-1 which kind of burst out of me over the course of one 48 hour window unlike take my hand which took a few weeks to crank out.

025. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read SO MANY FICS DUDE!!! i’m gonna rec a couple, some that i re-read this year and some that i discovered for the first time, all from a variety of fandoms. BUT heads up, you didn’t specify a fandom so it’s gonna be a little scattered. also someone else sent me this same question but specified 9-1-1, so i’m gonna reserve those recs for that ask. GET READY!!

and this, your living kiss by opal_bullets (7/7 | 84k+ | M) destiel; AU: college/university; john winchester’s A+ parenting; angst with a happy ending

only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet jack allen is just kansas mechanic dean winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.

until, that is, a string of coincidences leads dean to auditing a poetry course with one dr. castiel novak. the professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia’s foremost expert on the poetry of jack allen.

note: i discovered this fic back in the pre-pandemic times of feb 2020 and i’ve read this fic TWICE since, leaving a lengthy comment each time. the poetry in the fic itself is stunningly gorgeous and i have a habit of reading it out loud to myself while reading bc it begs to be heard. this fic is seriously beautiful and makes me want to read all the poet!dean au’s out there in the world. unfortunately there aren’t that many so i just keep coming back to this well. i don’t think i can express enough how much i love this fic.

lost time by ARCurren (105/105 | 350k+ | T) bransonxsybil; AU: canon divergent; outsider POVs; original characters; slow burn

the story of a free spirit who was asked to give up the man she loved for a system she didn’t believe in and what happened next. AU after 3.04.

note: did i think, when i stumbled across this fic years ago, that it would wind up being one of my all time favorites that i return to time and again to re-read? never. did i re-read it for like the dozenth time this year?? 110%. this fic is everything i want from fanfiction—it’s beautifully written, expands on canon, and shows me all the hidden moments the cameras never did (not to mention it’s historically accurate and delves deep into irish politics of the time). the first third or so of this fic is all about tom and sybil’s slow burn romance at downton, but the fic really bursts into its own when we follow the two to dublin and get introduced to all of the author’s deliciously detailed oc’s. heads up warning: this fic was never officially completed, though the final chapter is a beautifully written summary of the final arc of the fic. even so, it’s fucking worth it.

misfire by mothlights & unpossible (6/6 | 28k+ | T) sterek; time travel; angst with a happy ending; alive hale family; magic; alternating POV

“the debt must be repaid,” she says, and it has the weight of a vow. the words resonate through him, ringing through his ribcage and the bones of his jaw, and stiles loses his breath and maybe his grip on reality because she draws herself upright and where there had once stood a supermodel-level MILK now there is galadriel’s much hotter older sister, a presence of unmistakable power in their ordinary, smells-vaguely-of-thai-takeout hallway.

“oh shit,” stiles says.

note: this fic is the first in the misfire ‘verse and i need you to understand that it literally broke me when i binge read these fics a month or so ago. i am a sucker for a solid time travel fic especially bc there are such few good ones in fandom. but this gets at the heart of it all by exploring the idea of stiles getting the chance to save derek’s family and taking it...after he and derek are romantically together in his true timeline and then actually dealing with the ramifications of how that alters everything and how stiles survives in this new present where he and derek are virtual strangers. everyone should definitely read this, but you should also know that i fucking sobbed while reading the sequel (which also has a happy ending, but really digs deep into the nitty gritty angst of the repercussions).

map of the world by seperis (11/11 | 154k+ | M) destiel; end!verse; alternate universe; canon divergent; original characters; slow burn

the world’s already over and they’re already dead. all they’re doing now is marking time until the end.

note: look, if you don’t know about down to agincourt by @seperis, what are you doing with your life?? the series is over 1M+ words so far, the fic author is on book 4 out of a planned 8, and it’s fucking phenomenal. i know i’ve tagged a couple of these recs as slow burn but...this is the slowest slow burn to ever burn. canon!dean travels back into the end!verse timeline just as lucifer kills dean and somehow cas made it out alive and has to keep dean safe while he learns to become his end!verse counterpoint. the world building in this series is intense and i cannot recommend it enough. i’m still in the midst of my re-read bc it’s SUCH an endeavor but i highly recommend it to everybody.

invictus by ellanasan (116/116 | 355+ | M) hayffie; au: alive abernathy family; pre-hunger games; canon prostitution; slow burn

“so then, before i can even think about doing something stupid like trying to stab him with his fucking golden paperknife, he gives me a choice, see?” haymitch continued, almost detached. “either i play nice like all the other victors or he’ll kill my family. i could either become his puppet—greatest punishment he could give me, according to him—or i could become the example.”

AU in which haymitch’s family lives.

note: hello, have you ever wondered what the hunger games series would be like if haymitch’s family were alive? i fucking hadn’t until 2 years ago when i stumbled across this fic and fell head over heels in love with this ship. @ellanainthetardis is my go to hunger games fic writer for anything exploring canon and i’m obsessed with anything she writes about the OG victors pre-canon (finnick, joanna, chaff, etc). this fic is just 300k+ exploring that world and all the intricate details of how cruel the games could really be. HIGHLY recommend. i definitely re-read it this fall when i needed a pick me up.

don’t know what i’m supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (1/1 | 30k+ | T) sterek; canon divergent; angst with a happy ending; ghosts; stiles POV

stiles sees dead people. yep. seriously.

(he’s got this. he’s totally got this. so what if one of them is derek’s mom?)

note: did you know that @crazyassmurdererwall is one of my all time favorite people? and that she’s wicked talented? and that in our spare time she’ll send me a billion fic ideas that are amazing and i get to hear all the intricate details of her plot bunnies? but i digress. this fic is one of my all time fave sterek fics i’ve re-read it sooo many times. there’s just something about the heartache and stiles’ insecurity and the way he tries to shoulder it all on his own. and then there’s alli’s brilliant writing, the way she weaves through a scene and paints a picture just so and manages to tug at your heart strings with her precise word choice. there’s some amazing world building in this fic as it explores this other facet of the supernatural that canon teen wolf never touched upon, and i’m so grateful for that bc alli is the only one who should be allowed to write about ghosts and teen wolf together.

lagavulin and guinness by snarfle (10/10 | 163k+ | explicit) hartwin; slow burn; PTSD; suicidal thoughts; graphic depictions of violence; domestic abuse

plenty of people had looked down on eggsy throughout his life. he had gotten fairly used to it. didn’t mean it was fair, but he knew how these things worked. what really sucked was that the new arthur was worse than the old one.

“eggsy grimaced. he didn’t know how to explain to harry—who seemed like he hadn’t been discriminated against a day in his life—that the new arthur kept giving him what amounted to suicide missions, and that he was currently bleeding out in a warehouse because of the deliberately bad intel she had given him.”

also featuring: dean is harder to get rid of than eggsy thought, his mum is going off the deep end, there are way too many nefarious plots in play, and eggsy is really beginning to wish that harry would stop holding his hand and kiss him instead.

note: look, i know i recced this literally less than a week ago but i ALSO stayed up til 5AM re-reading this last night and it was a-m-a-z-i-n-g. i was on a bit of a kingsman kick earlier this year, so i’ve actually re-read this fic TWICE so far in 2020. i will give you a serious warning in that this fic delves deep into domestic abuse through the lens of a variety of different relationships. it also explores the potential for abuse in hartwin, bc this fic is one of the few that actually commits to the fact that they’re literal spies who murder people. actively. a lot. but seriously, this fic is one of my fave in the fandom and i STRONGLY recommend it.

waste of breath by bryrosea (1/1 | 22k+ | M) loganxveronica; canon compliant; missing scenes; navy; past child abuse

logan echolls, the nine years, and the navy.

note: bryrosea has an obscene number of amazing logan and veronica fics (her canon divergent series stay with me is another i re-read this year), but i’ve found myself returning to this fic a lot over the years. i’m a sucker for canon compliant fics that explore the missing scenes in between canon and this fic hits all the right buttons by diving deep into how logan echolls went from being a trash fire at hearst college at the end of s3 to being a decorated navy pilot by the movie. it explores logan seeking out therapy and making a life for himself that he can be proud of, all while pining after the girl who got away. and bc this author is amazing, she followed it up with a sequel from veronica’s point of view in the series done by only me.

the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog (8/8 | 60k+ | M) destiel; POV castiel; pre-canon; post-canon; canon compliant; immortality; reincarnation

“and what’s the point of it?”

“of love? there isn’t one. loving is its own purpose.”

note: i mean??? i don’t really know what to say except that this is one of the truly most beautiful fics i have ever read. it follows castiel through time as he meets different reincarnations of sam and dean across history and falls ever more deeply in love. it is achingly tender and so ecstatically written that i die just thinking about it. and that summary? i mean. holy fuck break my heart why don’t you? i don’t know how i missed out on this fic for so long since it was published in 2015 but i only learned about it for the first time back in july and it was. life changing?? when the fic finally reaches the canon timeline and he meets THIS dean it’s peak yearning. 10/10 will read again.

ahead in the count by elisela (17/17 | 50k+ | E) sterek; AU: sports; pitcher!stiles; teacher!derek; long distance relationship; getting together

“yankee fan,” derek says, laughing when stiles makes a disgusted face. “the bronx bombers, stiles, you can’t be a new yorker and—”

“stop talking right now,” stiles sighs, shaking his head. “i can’t believe i still want to kiss you after that,” he says, pulling derek in by his coat. “this is making me rethink everything.”

“i’ll never watch them again,” derek promises, and stiles laughs against his mouth.

or: stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY mets when he meets and falls in love with derek. derek doesn’t know.

note: i read SO MANY of @elisela’s 911 fics this summer, which i loved, and then she got into teen wolf and started writing sterek and i just about died. this fic is amazing, one of my fave sterek AU’s that i’ve read in years. it’s just the right amount of drama and angst and fluff filled with all the joys of miscommunication and character relationships that makes reading sterek such a joy. reading this fic and finding out eli needed fic recs pushed me to dive back in to reading sterek fics for a bit this fall so i can say with the utmost authority that this is one of the best i’ve read in a long time.

i used to think one day we’d tell the story of us by notequitegucci (2/2 | 32k+ | M) gendrya; alternate universe—modern setting; outsider POV; friends to lovers; friends to lovers

9 times a stark encounters gendry + 1 time he meets the starks.

note: again, this is the first in a 2 part series titled love me like you do that explores arya and gendry’s dynamics together through the point of view of her family. game of thrones ended last year with a whimper but i keep returning to the gendrya tag on ao3 to seek out new, amazing content and also to re-read some old favorites. i can’t remember if i came across this for the first time last year or this one, but i’ve read it and re-read it more times than i can count since and i love it more than i can describe. i’m a total sucker for outsider POV fics and my biggest pet peeve in canon is the fact that none of the stark’s ever found out that arya and gendry had a history together. this modern au fic almost makes up for it by giving me a gendry encounter with every family member and then the big reveal. it’s peak content.

theeeeeeese recs got a little away from me. i wasn’t originally intending on adding lengthy notes to each entry but ... oh well!! these are all amazing so please enjoy.

fanfic end of the year asks

#lilolilyr #ask #if i knew an authors tumblr i tried to tag them in this #seriously my reclist got away from me for a bit #also if you're looking for 911 recs #like i said they will be in another ask where someone specified!!#fic rec #about kat writes

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designsfromtime · 5 years ago

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“Yes, you can afford one of my gowns! READ HOW!

“I cannot afford your gowns.” I hear this ALL the time. But what really frustrates me is that most of you don’t understand that a bargain is only a bargain if it is quality made. YES! You can have an amazing gown from me for around $800!

I sell mostly on Etsy, with the exception of cast mates who know my work, or some of my followers on Facebook, Tumblr, or Instagram, the majority of my sales go through Etsy.

There are hidden costs the average consumer doesn’t understand. First of all, Etsy takes about 20% or more out of each sale I make. That on top of the listing fees I have to pay, as well as the cost of having an upgraded store, and a website that is separate from my store. All those things add up. I also offer FREE shipping inside the US - - But I did NOT raise my prices to cover that expense. I do deduct it from my taxes as an expense, but the average cost to ship a gown First Class via USPS is about $45 to 50.

Most vendors on Etsy, Ebay, or even vendors at Renfaire buy bulk fabrics and crank out the same gown over, and over, and over ad naseum. However, all of my work is custom couture with MANY hand-sewn elements.

I charge by the piece. That means I charge for EVERY cut piece I physically sew together, and that includes the lining, and piping! If I charged by the hour, just a basic gown would retail for no less than $4,000 to $5,000.

Embroidery affects the cost of my work because it takes MORE time than the actual construction of our gowns, and beading and pearling or hand-tacking down trims takes even longer than embroidery. Again, In’t charge an hourly wage, but I charge by the stitch count of the embroidery pattern and a flat rate for beading and hand work - which usually is merely a pittance of what it should be because I WANT to make my work affordable while still being fairly compensated for my time and labor.

The average basic 16th Century court gown I make only runs about $800 to $900 for labor - - it’s all the embellishment that costs!

So, if you choose a gown with tabs around the bottom of the bodice and/or around the shoulders, or a sleeve that is paned, this is going to drive up my labor fees because we STILL charge by the piece. Those tabs are DETAILED ya’ll! They are piped, and lined and take a lot of labor on my part. But listen . . . we can customize a gown that is more basic and forego all the bling and STILL offer you something amazing. So don’t let the price of the gowns you see listed scare you! Before you go to another vendor and buy on the cheap, give me a chance!

Let me put it this way: You look at my work and you drool. You then look at the listed price and say, I can’t afford it, so you go to a vendor who is going to offer you a basic cut gown - that may not be an historically accurate style, or they use fabric they purchased in bulk, say a synthetic brocade. The brocade is more than HALF the design aesthetic for these bargain priced gowns! There is much MORE involved in creating a quality-made garment. So, why not choose a more affordable fabric and ask me to make you a basic gown!? Yes, you might pay $400+ more for one my basic gowns, but at least it will be made with my quality standards! - AND you only need a 20% deposit and can split the balance up into 6 payments.

Let’s do the math:

The following link takes you to one of my “basic” gowns.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/781566625/plus-sized-elizabethan-costume-bridal?ref=shop_home_active_6&frs=1

Here is the cost breakdown of this gown:

Specialized Supplies provided by DFT: $124.03 Embroidery Labor: $200 Gown Construction & Pattern Drafting Fees - $790 Beading Fees: $150

The basic gown, to include the specialized supplies I use for construction, is ONLY $914.03. It’s the embroidery and beading fees that up-ticks the labor costs.

20% Non-refundable deposit would be: $182.80

Balance due: $731.23

If you placed this gown on my six month payment plan your monthly installments would be $121.23.

NOW. . . that cost doesn’t include fabrics. So keep that in mind, but I can help you bargain shop for good quality textiles. You can peruse some gorgeous brocades and Jacquard fabrics on my Pinterest board. You will need about 8 yards of fabric for the skirt and bodice, 2.5 yards for the forepart, and another 1.5 yards for fitted sleeves.

https://www.pinterest.com/designsfromtime/costume-fabrics-common-supplies/brocades-jacquards/

Here’s another example using a gown made of brocade:

https://www.etsy.com/listing/620386905/womens-plus-sized-renaissance-dress?ref=shop_home_active_68&frs=1

Specialized Supplies provided by DFT: $109.99 Embroidery Labor: $350 Labor & Drafting fees - $740 Beading/Spangle Labor - $150

The basic gown is $849.99! I added piping in a complimentary olive green silk, gold trim which I beaded, and custom embroidered the sleeves and forepart, but you can use a different brocade pattern (such as a diamond shape) for the sleeves and forepart and still stay in budget.

The gowns in my store are priced for “style” and the level of “embellishment.” But if you take the time to read my cost breakdown I provide in each listing you can see the basic labor fees just for the gown construction.

Here is the bottom line:

You CAN use “fabrics” to provide a wow factor rather than the trims and embroidery I use to create a more budget friendly gown. No, they aren’t going to bring the BLING I am famous for, but a basic gown without tabs on the bottom of the bodice made up in a beautiful brocade, with minimal embellishment will allow you to purchase one of our quality made gowns.

If you have a properly constructed over skirt with meticulously placed cartridge pleats, bodices with built in under structure, lining added to overskirt fabrics so that these less expensive brocades “drape” properly, and finish the edges with hand-made piping, not only can we put you in a gown within your budget, BUT offer you a durable quality made gown that is gorgeously styled. The devil is in the details folks! And the details in our work is more than just the sparkly bits. It’s about quality of construction.

You can spend $300 to $400 for one of these “more affordable” gowns and then have to turn around and spend another $300 to $400 when the gown doesn’t hold up to the rigors of reenacting, or you can spend $800 to $900 in labor for one our gowns that will last you a minimum of 5 or 6 years - or more! . Most of the gowns selling for $300 to $400 that I’ve seen won’t last more than 2 seasons - if that - before they start falling apart. How do I know this? Because many of my cast mates bought these bargain priced gowns and they literally fell apart the first time they wore them. The longevity of the gown will be profoundly effected by the fabric you chose, as well as the quality of construction. If properly cared for, our gowns will last many, MANY seasons. If you don’t wad it up and throw it in a suitcase, as I’ve seen some people do with our work, they will retain their beauty and shape for years to come - and THAT my friends is a bargain.

HERE’S THE 411 OF WHAT SETS OUR WORK APART:

- Our Bodices are highly structured.

First of all, my bodices are custom drafted to fit your body. They are cut in a historically accurate pattern - rather than using a commercial pattern in a style that has no historical basis. I use imported products from the UK that aren’t available here in the States.

My bodices are MORE than just two pieces of fabric sewn together. Mine have multiple layers with built-in under structure hand-tailored into them. One layer, is a fusible cotton interlining to stabilize your fashion fabrics to add body. We also add a second layer of a product used to stiffen it (no, I’m not gonna tell ya what we use), PLUS we add an additional layer in front of a product that acts like buckram, which was used in the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries to stiffen and add structure. I also add a few stays to keep the point at the bottom from flipping up when you sit. YES - You still have to wear stays with our gown bodices! Anyone who says otherwise doesn’t know what they’re talking about and needs to hit the books and do more research.

Some vendors DO add a layer of interfacing, but they tend to use a Pellon fusible interfacing like you can find at JoAnns. I have found this product to be inferior. First of all, it’s made out of petroleum and will hold in heat. Second, it doesn’t stay affixed in place to the fabric but will loosen and bunch up over a short period of time.

- Skirts that have ENOUGH fabric to properly cartridge pleat and drape.

My skirts are made with panels 55″ to 58″ wide. On average we use 4 panels, but this will depend on your fabric. Using four panels creates that beautiful volume you see in my gowns. You can tell when a seamstress has scrimped on fabric because the fabric doesn’t DRAPE but clings to the farthingale at the bottom. The fabric should NOT pull or look stretched.

I flat line ALL silks or faux silks so that they drape properly and have enough body to cartridge pleat. My cartridge pleats are no LESS than 3/8 inch in width. They are deep, copious, and neat in appearance. I reinforce them by hand tacking them together so that they won’t lose their shape over time.

- Grommets: I use a .000 size grommet and because our bodices are MORE than just two layers of fabric and a layer of Pellon fusible interfacing, our grommets DON’T pull away from the garment or fall out. I ALSO couch all the grommets to secure them in place.

I work with color: I use color theory based on your skin, hair, and eye color to choose colors that will be more flattering on you. I also use a color wheel for unique color combinations.

So, perhaps you cannot afford one of my highly embellished gowns with embroidered textiles and beading, but you CAN afford a basic gown that still offers quality construction.

Look, I’m not trying to corner the market. I have more work I can shake a stick at, but what drives me a little nuts is watching people spend their hard earned money on a sub-quality gown because they are convinced my work is out of their price range.

I die a little every time I get messages in my Etsy store wanting me to make them a hat or a headdress to wear with one of these bargain priced gowns. Inevitably, they send me pictures and I have to stuff a sock in my mouth to keep from saying, “WHYYYY???” I can’t tell them, “Hey, that gown you just bought from that particular vendor is gonna fall apart and you’ll be ordering another gown next season.” I have to keep my mouth shut, suck it up, and construct a headdresss or a hat wherein there will be a disparity in quality. In other words, there will be a difference in the quality of my work against the gown they’ll be wearing it with because most of these “bargain” gowns are painfully simplistic both in the style and in the construction. All I DARE to do is offer a politely worded, “When you’re gown shopping again, keep us in mind.” I did break my cardinal rule the other day when I was approached, once again, by a girl who was working with a vendor who I know falls in the category I just harped about and wanted to know my “thoughts.” Be warned. Never, ever ask me my thoughts or opinion unless you are ready for truth. I can’t help it! I have too much integrity to lie. The bad thing about being direct is that the written word doesn’t allow for my true intent and tone and I come off sounding like a b****. Sorry. :(

One thing that sets me a part as a professional designer is not just my experience, or my penchant for directness (which not everyone appreciates obviously), but having a very keen eye for detail, which is reflected in my craftsmanship. This ability has been honed over the course of 40 years and allows me to be able to edit work for quality with just a glance. That can be a double edge sword. On one hand, it drives my own efforts for quality, but can make me VERY unpopular if I point things out in others’ work. :(

I WISH there was enough of me to spread around and be able make ALL OF YOU a quality constructed gown, but time and age restricts how much we can crank out and maintain our quality standards. I also WISH I could teach other costumers the simple steps they can take to elevate their craftsmanship. But look, I’m pragmatic. What’s their motivation to do so if they stay busy cranking out hundreds of gowns for $400 a pop? Most aren’t interested in growing their skills, and believe me, they are NOT happy with me for pointing out the disparity between their work and mine. So, all I can do is educate consumers who want to develop an eye for quality and know the difference between a $400 gown and one that costs $900 or more.

Don't let the price of gowns in my store scare you. I can work with many budget levels to create high quality, historically accurate gowns that will be durable, fit you like a glove, and last you many, MANY seasons as a reenactor. As the director of a reenactment group, and a cast member at faire since 2001, I have a practical understanding of the unique needs of reenactors and offer costumes that will stand up to the rigors of reenacting - - and believe me they do take a beating. So keep me in mind when you are gown shopping again!

www.DesignsFromTime.com

#elizabethan dress #historicalclothing #historical costume #historical fashion #period costume #costume design

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sylvain-writes · 5 years ago

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Scarlet Letters (TMNT Raphael x Reader)

Chapter 3/8: Basic Instinct

Raphael wakes up. The mixed signals you’re getting from him leave you wondering if you’re reading too much into things.

(Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ao3)

Your back aches and fatigue threatens your resolve as you keep vigil over the turtle. Since draining the tub, you’ve had time to wash and dry his shorts and wrappings, change into warm clothes yourself, set up the space heater near the bathroom sink, and cocoon your sleeping companion in nearly every towel and blanket you could spare from the linen closet. Still, it’s been four hours and the closest he’s come to regaining consciousness is some incoherent mumbling that might have been an apology.

Kneeling in the nest you made using the blankets and pillows leftover after tucking in Raphael, you stroke his head with an attempt to soothe. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Red. It’s OK. You’re gonna be OK.” You’re relieved to feel he has warmed up but concerned by his newly ashen complexion and the ever-present congestion in his cough.

When he quiets again, you sit back with a sigh. For now, quiet is good. The less he talks, the less the coughs. And it would do both of you well to get some rest.

Though your body begs you to sleep, you know your work isn’t done. You take a clean hand-towel off Raphael's shoulders to run it under the hot water from the sink, and you crank down the power of the space heater. The latter has done its job to steal the chill from the porcelain and tile of the room. Now, you hope, it can maintain the comfortable temperature without drying out the air too much. Taking the former to the tub, you offer moisture to Raphael’s reptilian skin.

Despite it being a literal pain in your ass to spend so much time sitting on the tile floor, you can’t bear to leave the guy’s side. He didn’t leave yours. Not when he was delirious with pain and hypothermia. He still followed you to the door to make sure you were safe. True, all he would have had to defend you from was Lori Abma - the 5-foot-nothin’, 90lbs soaking wet, sweetheart from upstairs, but he was ready to take on the world for you - a total stranger - even at his weakest.

He could have hidden. He should have hidden. But he hadn’t.

Remembering the moment from earlier tonight brings on a fresh wave of affection for the turtle. You take his hand as it dangles over the side of the tub. Though your intention was to return it to his chest under the blankets, you find you can't give it up so quickly. You marvel at how comfortable the weight of his hand feels in yours. You slide your fingertips over his palm and stare at the way the curves of your hands compliment each other, especially with his hand so much larger than yours.

After a series of small twitches, Raphael’s fingers slowly come to close around your hand. Though you tell yourself it’s a reflex, though you remind yourself you only know a little more about him than any other patient you’ve had at the walk-in clinic, you can’t ignore the way your hands have locked together - a perfect fit.

As large as he is, even for a man, Raphael looks small and peaceful in his sleep. There’s a sense of delicateness in the flutter of his eyelids, in the beat of his pulse you as it thrums under your palm. But then his body is wracked by a harsh cough and your humors shift from affection to concern.

He lies under the mound of blankets, defenseless, having no choice but to trust you. And he did, he does, without so much as posturing a threat. You hold his hand tighter, hugging it to your chest.

The vulnerability of his current situation has you wishing you could scoop him into your arms, despite his size. You think, if positions were different, he might allow you to hold his head in your lap, at least, and provide the type of comfort you only wish someone would have offered you that night the police drove you home from the crime scene of your father’s murder, where your other parent was in too much shock to offer consolation to their child.

It’s presumptuous and out of line and too familiar, you know, but you don’t stop yourself from giving into the desire to press your forehead against Raphael’s as he sleeps. You stroke the side of his face as you rest against him and whisper into his ear. “You gotta be OK, Red, cause I don’t know what else to do."

You’re not prepared to care for anyone in need of advanced treatment, let alone a turtle. Internet searches have only helped so much. What you really need is for the big guy to wake up and tell you what you can do to help him recover. To tell you what’s working and what isn’t.

With a final stroke to his cheek, you decide it's time to make good on the promise you made to yourself back when you thought your companion was lugging around a pack, not a shell. You're going to go down the alley. It's a trip into the storm that you’ve been trying to convince yourself not to take, but it's long overdue.

If he dropped something behind the dumpster, something that can help you find his brothers or something that will offer a clue as to where he’s lived all these years, then you're determined to find it.

Leaving a note on the nest of blankets beside the tub, and bundled from head to toe in winter wear, you head into the night. The bitter wind whips around you and cuts through your layers of clothing. But you’re lucky. The ice storm is good for one thing - keeping the streets empty. There is no sign of life anywhere, no apparent danger except the cold and sleet.

The dumpster blocks the worst of the wind for a while, you can see why Raphael had taken shelter here. But everything is covered with snow and ice. You feel around with your boot until you hit something hard. Reaching under a heap of garbage and snow, you pick up one of the weapons Raphael had brandished earlier in the evening.

You hold the sai’s leather-bound handle tightly in your gloved hand and rummage some more. Something like a walkie-talkie lies crushed not far from where you found the sai. You scoop up the pieces, mindful not to break any of the exposed wires, and scan the ground for any other signs of the turtle. On your hands and knees, you search. You come up with nothing.

After a loud snap and the crash of ice shattering against a building, the way the neighborhood falls into pitch blackness shouldn’t come as a shock to you, but you jump anyway. Lori’s prediction was right; too much ice has settled on the power lines and now you’d all be without electricity for who-knows-how-long.

Back in the apartment, you use your phone for light to strip off your icy wet outerwear and find your way to the supply closet. Thanks to your preference for keeping to yourself, years of impersonal birthday and Christmas gifts from coworkers have your top shelf stocked with enough scented candles to get you through the winter, if need be. You take down two large jars and light them with a torch from the kitchen drawer.

Upon the gas range, you set up your two largest pots with water to boil. They should help to warm the kitchen and living room. You hug yourself as you look around the open space. It’s better than nothing, you think, before heading to the bathroom to check on Raphael.

From the doorway, you watch him as he sleeps. You worry about how impossible it will be to move him to the pull out sofa in the living room. You worry about how cold the bathroom will become without the electric space heater or furnace doing their job. When he starts to stir, you waste no time.

Scrambling toward him, you grab your lanyard from where it hangs on the door handle. Behind your ID badge you and your coworkers usually carry ammonia capsules in case a patient starts to faint. The first time he fainted, you had been at a loss; you’d already used your smelling salts at the clinic. But since then you've replaced the capsule with one from a pack in the drawer beside the sink. Blindly removing the fresh dose from behind your badge, you ask Raphael how he’s feeling.

He’s barely conscious, but his squinting eyes scan the room like he’s searching for exits and enemies. He presses his temples and rubs them in circles as if trying to alleviate a migraine.

“I-I’m the only one here,” you assure him in quiet tones, trying not to add to his discomfort. “I found you in the alley and brought you to my apartment. Do you remember?” The question sends a new spark of anxiety coursing through your veins.

Does he remember? Does he remember your hand in his? Your faces pressed together? Your desperate whispers in his ear?

Raphael narrows his eyes at you before giving a groan and a small nod. His eyes slowly drift closed again.

“Can you stay awake?” You ask, ready to snap the capsule of smelling salts under his nose should it come to that. “Just long enough to get you into the other room,” you explain. “We lost power. It’ll get cold in here fast.”

“How far?” he asks. The question comes out short, stuck behind a figurative frog in his dry throat. In the flickering light of the candle, you can see Raphael’s focus is on you. He must be ignoring his own pains to sit up straighter, to maintain eye contact despite the headache that pounds against his skull.

His gaze is sharp. You think, he remembers, as you feel yourself shrinking away from the bath.

But the sound of his voice, clipped as it is, feels like a good sign. And, in a way, you even find it soothing. You didn’t realize how much you were missing Raphael’s deep tones and accented words. His shoulder is warm and firm beneath your hand. “N-not far at all,” you say, using the last of your confidence to give his arm an encouraging squeeze.

Your smile falters, and all the good feelings that had been building in your chest at seeing him awake, drop when he flinches out from under your touch.

“Let’s go, then,” he snaps. His eyes are no longer on you. His face is no longer relaxed in an expression of peaceful sleep. There’s a grimace twisting his features and the turtle that at one time had you confused as to why their shell was tagged with kanji ‘anger’ starts to live up to his brand.

Even with his injuries and bitten back cries of pain as he pushes himself to stand, you can’t seem to remove the blankets and towels fast enough. Raphael tosses them to the tile floor haphazardly before catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He snatches up his shorts from the vanity counter and exhales ragged breaths through his nose as he pulls them on. Then, leaning over the sink, he takes in the sight of his stitched lip and the bloodied gauze taped to his side. He hitches up his pant leg to get a proper look at his thigh and winces at the pressure of his fingers as they gingerly test the wound. Without further word, he lumbers out of the room with a limp.

Throwing down the armful of blankets you had intended to bring to the pullout sofa, you rush into the hall to follow him. “Are you-”

“I gotta get outta here," he announces between coughs. "Gotta get my stuff… get home.”

"You're hurt. Your banadages need changing. You need to rest." His limp shortens his gait, making it easy for you to catch up to him.

Using the armrest of the sofa as a crutch, he turns around. "Who are you to tell me what I need, huh?"

Your heart freezes under the coldness of his stare, and the frown you've been holding back tugs at the corners of your mouth.

You are starting to understand not only why the kanji on his shell spoke of 'anger', but why it was painted in such a fierce shade of red. As Raphael finds his bearings, his sharp edges are returning. The glimpses of warrior you'd caught in the alley and in the hallway of your apartment are starting to settle into place. Though his bandana is hanging on the shower rod (too worn to be run through the dryer), his hardened expression is a mask all its own.

"I'm trying to help," you remind him with a gesture toward the medical kit still on the kitchen island. "Let me help."

Raphael takes a quick, staggering step forward and you flinch with concern that he may fall. Moving has brought fresh blood to the gauze pad you'd taped to his side after the bath. You imagine his leg isn't faring much better. They'd really do better wrapped.

"I don't need ya help," he says through gritted teeth.

Watching him, your frown deepens. There’s something more than anger in his tone. You struggle to name the emotion, but when you shy away as he shuffles past you, he casts his eyes to the ground and you think you catch a glimpse of hurt, even sadness in the lines of his face.

Nonetheless, if he's determined to tend to his injuries on his own, you won't stand in his way. You do what you can without drawing too much attention to yourself. You try not to react when his appreciation for the supply of fresh bandages comes in short grunts. When his request for water comes out more like an annoyed patron barking his order to a diner server, you stop yourself from barking back. But as the minutes pass into an hour of him struggling to wrap his side, his stubbornness grates on your nerves.

You feel bad missing the Raphael that had been too weak to argue, but even now that he's showing his true colors, you can't help but find this other side of him attractive in its own right. The way he mutters to himself when the bandages tangle and he has to start over... The way his cheeks flush with frustration and embarrassment when he catches you stealing a glance... You can't keep your spark of affection for him at bay, even as you roll your eyes behind his shell.

It isn't until you catch him stealing glances at you out of the corner of your eye that you suspect he might actually be ready to give in to your offer of assistance.

Struggling to bite back your amusement, you move around the island to stand in front of him. Your palm hovers between you two, waiting. "You gonna let me help you now or-"

He doesn't wait for you to finish the sentence before placing the roll of medical tape into your hand. Patching up his side involves you touching his carapace and plastron more than you remember needing to do initially, and it brings your faces close more than a few times, but you try to ignore the way your body responds to the ghost of Raphael’s breath on your cheek. You mostly ignore the way he shudders when your hands graze the textured scales of his shell.

When you kneel between his knees to tend to his leg, you notice Raphael’s sharp intake of breath as he clamps a hand around your wrist.

You pull your hands off of his thighs with a jerk. “I’m sorry,” you apologize immediately for the touch. “Did you wanna…” Although bending might cause him some discomfort, you realize this bandage is probably easy for him to change on his own. The way he refuses to look at you, you think you’ve crossed a boundary; you hope your sincere apology is enough to earn back his trust.

“No, it’s fine," he grumbles, but he won't look down. "You do it.”

The candle sitting on the counter doesn't offer much light, but you hear the hitch of his breath. You feel the twitch of his muscles as you roll back the leg of his shorts and expose the sensitive skin of his inner thigh again. His hand remains on your wrist awhile, but its grip gradually loosens before it falls away.

Raphael shudders again under your touch and realization hits you. “Are you ticklish?” you ask presumptuously, doing your best to keep your eager fingers from teasing.

Raphael only shakes his head. “Can ya just-” he heaves a sigh before grunting “-finish up.”

“Of course.” You bite the inside of your cheek, embarrassed by your attempt toward flirtation and assume a professional demeanor. You’re reading too much into things, you tell yourself. The feel of your hands entwined, the way he trembles when you’re close, the way his breath catches in his throat at your touch… none of it means anything.

A sound of appreciation or something like it comes from deep in Raphael's chest as he shifts on the stool again. You spare a glance up at him. His hands have come to rest in his lap, carefully out of the way of your work, but holding his abdomen. His cheeks are just a shade darker than you’d have sworn they were a minute ago. It’s hard to tell in the candlelight.

When he finally glances down at you, you try to tell yourself that the warmth in his gaze is a trick of the light. You try to convince yourself that the way the flame dances in his eyes doesn't make him more handsome, it doesn’t make for a romantic sight. But you’re lying.

Each moment in Raphael’s presence you find yourself more attracted to him. Even when his vulnerability makes him standoffish, you want to be near him. You've been wanting to give him a piece of your mind, too, when his attitude strikes out. You think you would, were you not afraid he'll rush into the storm ‘to make a point’: he's strong enough and brave enough to go off on his own.

As you continue to look up at him, Raphael’s green eyes don't leave yours. Your hands pause their work so you can continue to hold his gaze.

Though you know now that he's one quick to anger, you can see he's in more than just physical pain. He's been quick to defend but trusting of a stranger. He's been strong and gentle. He’s been stubborn but accepting of help when he needs it. He rushes into action, but he listens to you. His paradoxes make him more interesting, make you want to learn more, make you wonder if he's interested in knowing you the way you want to know him.

Your hands rest comfortably on Raphael's knees as you wait for some clue as to what will happen next, but even as you catch a glimpse of him swallowing hard, you're getting lost in his eyes.

You wish he wouldn't swallow his words. You wish that he would speak. That he would tell you what he wants, what he needs. That he would tell you more about his life. But when he looks at you like this - softly, curiously - it’s like his eyes are trying to tell you something he can't put into words.

#Raphael x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #Raphael x Reader #Raph x reader #TMNT Raphael x reader #TMNT Raphael #teenage mutant ninja turtles #TMNT #bayverse tmnt #bayverse raphael #raphael 2014/2016 #tmnt 2014/2016 #tmnt 2014/16

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capricornus-rex · 4 years ago

Text

Two Sides of the Coin (4)

Chapter 4: Target Acquired | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 | Previous: Part 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

Jidné has finally flew out of Ordo Eris’s orbit, back into the deep black vacuum of space she goes. She was still within the same system as the Haxion Brood’s outpost, although she was closer to the planets neighboring one another. While the Scarab cruises leisurely in space, she tried to tweak the satellite’s range in the hopes that she would pick up the said S-161’s signal—it wasn’t impossible, though it’s very unlikely to get good results out of it.

“It’ll take a miracle for us to find them, ID,”

ID-3 trilled in agreement, although despondently.

She leaned against the pilot’s seat, tapping her fingers in a beat on the cushioned armrests, she tilted her head back. The bounty hunter was running out of ideas, the first suggestion she gave herself was to scour the surrounding planets around Ordo Eris.

Ironically, she looked for answers from within herself.

“Now, if I was a Jedi on the run…” she muttered to herself—a short-lived smirk played along her lips to acknowledge the irony—absentmindedly stroking the dashboard screen as she thought of the possibilities. Her eyes shifted around the cockpit, as if searching for the next words.

“Someplace not densely populated—but that would make one easy to find, less people but more natural camouflage. Densely populated—it’ll be too… people-y outside, but makes you lost in the crowd, hard to spot with a lot of people all around you, but would make a scene if you do get caught.”

She drew her leg up and rung her around her shin. She bowed her head and rubbed her chin, pondering hard on similar theories and assumptions that are likely realistic. It appeared like she’s meditating in her own way.

The hours dragged on as Jidné squeezed her brain for more realistic ideas while the Scarab floated past the planets. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, thinking of more ways to get by—until one came to mind and it was actually the last thing she wanted to do, so she set it aside for the moment.

“Haxion’s out to get Redhead, too,” she recalled the fact that the Brood had their hunters scattered across the planets in search of Cal, even prior to Vader hiring her.

Giving up, she decided if gathering more intel was the best first step in this plan—just so she can piece together what her sources tell her, starting from what Sorc has told her so far, she listed all of the planets where she could get better intel on the top of her mind.

Minutes later after brainstorming by herself, her dexterous fingers danced across the dashboard buttons until a map reflected on the black screen, presenting the holograms of the surrounding planets within her current location.

“Too near Ordo Eris, they wouldn’t want to get close,” presumed Jidné, peering over a green planet with three moons on the hologram; she then turned her attention back to the computer, entering another system’s coordinates. “This one? Not too near, not too far either.”

Her scanning of the current map was cut short when the secondary monitor on her dashboard blinked a huge red circle in the radar. The droid croaked a high-pitched chitter—in droidspeak, it’d be a panicked screech—alarmed by the sudden appearance of big red blip. Quickly, she paid attention to that blip, as it may be a hostile—as she always does. She brought her leg back down, returned her grip on the steering wheel and buckled up in her seat.

“ID, see if you can amplify the scanners and satellites, I wanna take a good look at that ship,” Jidné clearly and sternly commanded, but she wasn’t in full panic mode yet unlike her little, hovering friend.

ID-3 obliged, regardless; from one of his metal pincers, a data port plug connected with the dashboard, he relayed the information from his databank to the screen where Jidné can see. The former Imperial droid gave a full view of the ship, its model and serial name. The pilot’s eyes widened as she read the jumble of characters that is its model name.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned.” She expressed in full disbelief rather than enthusiasm.

It was the Mantis!

She cranked the gears of the Scarab and tailed the target. Her fingers tensed around the wheel.

“ID, get ready to mask the Scarab’s signature when we get in closer range,”

“Trill!”

Apparently, ID didn’t need to do much work in scrambling the Scarab’s signal. The sudden turbulence that she and her droid were experiencing were due to the incoming meteor shower that the two ships are bringing themselves in are doing that for them.

“That is one crazy pilot,” Jidné quipped after witnessing the Mantis zip through the barrage of nearly-molten rocks shooting in their direction like cannon fire.

The Mantis and Scarab were complete contrasts to one another in terms of shape and size. The Mantis was narrow and thin like a needle, while the Scarab was curvy and wide—but when maneuvered vertically, it can pass through the gap of a trench. In this case, both ships were doing their own evasive maneuvers to survive the hailstorm of rocks.

A few smaller rocks have scraped and dented the exterior of the Scarab, but the gravitational pull of the phenomenon caused the ship to rumble so much that it’s starting to make Jidné nauseous. All of the debris that passed by scorched the exterior of the freighter, leaving loud bangs against the metal as they fleeted away.

“This certainly isn’t how I planned my day to go!”

She swept through the meteors and gained on the Mantis, with the Scarab masked—amplified by the shower interfering with the clarity of signals—the other ship didn’t exactly put all of their attention to her, but she sensed that they got the hint. She pushed the pedal to the metal in order to get at least neck-and-neck with her target, she flicked the clear glass cover of a red switch atop the shaft of her steering wheel.

Due to the rocks that literally scrape by the sides of the Scarab, constantly making the vessel quake, Jidné’s thumbs always strayed away from the button.

“I’ll never get a clean shot at them!”

Her eyesight narrowed, she sets the targeting device dead-set on the Mantis. The grid swerved as it followed the Mantis real-time, Jidné glanced at the targeting monitor every once in a while as she tries to accelerate to a greater speed.

“Almost there,” she rasped.

Her thumb hovered over the red button, impatient and eager to punch it, Jidné insisted to close a few more miles between the Scarab and the Mantis before she could fire the shots.

“There!”

A single shot darted out of the barrel—the bullet was a homing beacon not bigger than a land mine—and adhered to the exterior of the Mantis.

Good, they’ll never seen me coming. She thought triumphantly.

She flicked back the glass cover down and pressed a series of buttons on her dashboard. A small circular screen on the dashboard glowed blue in the corner of Jidné’s eye.

“We got them on our trail, ID!” she celebrated, smirking as she slowed down, withdrew from the dogfight and watched the Mantis weakly swerve as it tried to hold itself together while trying to get through the meteor shower.

Meanwhile, Jidné also tried to find her way out of this infernal shower of rocks. As much as she wanted to keep an eye on her target, she had to put her faith on the homing beacon—hoping that it doesn’t get cooked if they ever crash land into that beige planet.

She pulled the ship up, gaining altitude and placing her freighter above the meteor shower’s path. She detours from the planet floating right in front of her and ID-3 to give the Scarab a rest. The bounty hunter peered at the monitors again, but mostly focusing on the screen that shows the diagnostics of the ship’s internals.

“Integrity at 85%, I think we can stabilize that when we land,”

“Be-beep, chitter?”

“ID, see if you can analyze that planet they’re crash-landing into. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before,”

The ID seeker droid happily obliged this time, linking the arm with a built-in data port connector. Fishing from his databanks, he relayed the information to Jidné’s screen.

“Thanks, ID—knew I could count on you always!” she beamed, and then read the data that ID encoded on the monitor. “Ombari, huh? Well, I hope Redhead wished upon a star that I wouldn’t find him when we get there.”

“Chitter, trill!”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s worth a shot too,” Jidné snickered.

She set the acceleration to a high, passing Ombari’s asteroid-ridden ring and finally prepared herself to cut through the atmosphere before she could lose sight of her redheaded target.

Ombari was a tropical landmass. On one side, deltas and rivers sustained the lush jungles until the water stretched thin and ran dry beyond it, creating the desert badlands where the greenery is sparse but the villainy dense. Jidné was no stranger to such setting—she practically spent her second childhood in a similar environment.

Jidné wanted to keep her profile low as well, so she docked the Scarab in the deeper part of the jungle—she’d be in the border between the rich jungles, civilization, and the badlands. Finding the Mantis in space was easier said than done, however, finding the passenger of the Mantis was basically finding the hay in a needle stack.

“Come on, ID,” she beckoned as she marched through the narrow hall of the freighter, she headed to the compartment where she kept her weapon.

The narrow door hissed open, revealing her customized electropike-rifle hybrid leaning against the door. Jidné took it out of the compartment and studied the matte finish of the handle, some parts already have its paint job chipping due to time and usage; she weighed it on her arms and made a shooting position to get a feel of it again. She slid her hand up to the mandibles at the very end of the weapon, examining the conduits where the electric charge will run.

“Still mint, aren’t ya?” Jidné cooed and then slung the weapon’s strap against her chest.

She patted the holster on her hip one more time, reassuring herself that the saber is still safe and sound inside the leather pouch. By rote, ID hovered close to his owner, folded all of his tentacles and tucked it close to its disc-like body before latching onto the body harness that Jidné wears.

To conceal her droid and save herself the trouble of being accused of stealing Imperial property—which ID-3 obviously isn’t anymore—she donned a light tan cowl that wrapped around her shoulders, covering most of her jacket’s top portion. She asks if ID-3 is ready to go, to which the little dark droid responded with a low-volume chitter, and the duo leave the Scarab in search of their redheaded target.

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spork-guitar · 5 years ago

Text

Lucky Lady Chapter 2 (Bodyguard!Mari)

Based off of a prompt by @gale-of-the-nomads

@sapphicsovereign @gingerdaile

Before we begin, I wanted to apologize for how long this chapter took. My sister gave me the flu last week, and I basically did nothing but sleep, then I just procrastinated for a few days (as usual). I’m still going to try my best to crank out a chapter every couple days, but that won’t always be the case. To make up for it, here’s a longer chapter (oops).

Chapter 1 here

Ladybug was struggling. It was her first day on the job, and she was already failing miserably. So what if Adrien Agreste just happened to be super hot? She could keep it professional. Besides, he was engaged, and it didn’t matter how plainly uncomfortable he was around his fiancée, she was going to hold her tongue and let him run his own life. She wasn’t going to be the next in a long line of overprotective, sheltering people he had to put up with.

Still, there was a chance he could be shallow and self-absorbed. His sunny disposition and gorgeous smile could just be a façade, covering up how he truly was when the public wasn’t looking at his picture on a magazine cover. Ladybug had known him for a few measly hours. She had no right to make judgments yet or ever, and she knew it.

Running on a couple restless hours of sleep and pure adrenaline, she focused the little attention she had on getting the seemingly happy couple to the park. Under strict instructions from Nathalie to stay until the end of the photo shoot, she allowed Adrien to introduce her to the photographer while Lila got ready.

“Ah! You’re much more photogenic than the last one.” Vincent held up his hands and closed one eye as if studying her through the lens of a camera. “Have you ever considered becoming a model?”

“Oh, I don’t think I would be very good at that.”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, perhaps if things don’t work out with Mlle. Lila.” She felt a rush of blood heat her cheeks and struggled to come up with a suitable response, but fortunately (unfortunately?) for her, a certain model stepped in.

Adrien smiled at her and winked, engaging the cameraman in conversation and leading him away from her, and Ladybug let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

She briefly considered waiting in the car - or running away, which had also crossed her mind - instead of watching Lila hang all over Adrien as an overly charismatic photographer communicated using metaphors about Italian food, but she ultimately decided to stay. She was Adrien’s bodyguard, after all, and if protecting him meant staying close by him at all times, that was a sacrifice she would have to make.

Ladybug found herself entranced by the way Adrien immediately understood the photographer’s obscurities, the way he furrowed his brow when he was confused, how graceful his movements were. A small voice in the back of her head whispered what she was afraid of, that he could be as egotistical as the woman posing beside him, and once she got to know him she would see his true colors.

A cry pierced the air, snapping her out of her stupor, and her head instinctively turned to see what was happening. A little girl stood at the trunk of a tree, yelling to a woman - her mother, perhaps - who was blatantly ignoring her, and gesturing frantically to the tree. Ladybug squinted, barely able to make out what she thought might have been a cat. It was resting on a low branch, only a couple meters off the ground, but way too high for the young girl to reach. It was fine, though, someone would call the fire department and-

“Adrien! Where are you going?” Lila whined as she was forcefully pried off her fiancé, who had broken into a dead sprint towards the girl.

He arrived in seconds, squatting down as the girl tearfully explained the situation. Ladybug had half a mind to go after him and chastise him for running away, but she was admittedly curious.

“What are you waiting for?” Lila shrieked, arms folded across her chest. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Do your job!”

Ladybug rolled her eyes internally and started walking towards Adrien, who stood on his toes and stretched one arm up, the other braced on the tree trunk as he cooed at the little kitten. It inched closer skeptically, batting a curious paw before crawling into his waiting hand. He lowered his arm, gently cradling the kitten to his chest and petting it, and Ladybug stopped dead in her tracks.

There was something so sweet and tender, almost domestic, about the scene before her that rendered her completely speechless. A rush of indescribable… something hit her like a freight train, and it was only when he looked back at her and she realized she had been staring at him that it clicked.

She was in love - with her client, no less, and to make matters worse, he was engaged. Maybe, the logical part of her whispered, maybe that’s not what this is. Honestly, there’s no way she could have fallen for someone after knowing them for all of a day. No matter what, keeping things strictly professional between them was the most important thing. She was there to do her job, and nothing else.

“Ladybug?” The sound of her cover name instantly derailed her train of thought. “Are you alright?”

“Ha, yeah,” she assured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I guess I get in my head sometimes.”

Adrien chuckled. “I can understand that. You looked a little out of it.”

“My apologies, M. Agreste. I’m afraid I’m not much of a morning person.”

“Well, we certainly have that in common. When my mother was around, she always told me I would get used to waking up early, and I never believed her.”

Ladybug nodded, unsure what else to say. The short conversation came to a dead stop, and Ladybug focused on not staring at Adrien. It didn’t matter that he may as well have been literally chiseled out of stone and extremely handsome in every sense of the word, she was still his bodyguard, and he was engaged. That was that.

The Agrestes were full of mysteries. It was something that intrigued her about the family, and one of the reasons she had volunteered so eagerly for the job, but especially the disappearance of Emilie Agreste, formerly Graham de Vanily. She had vanished under mysterious circumstances when Adrien was barely a teenager, and nothing but false leads were found in the ten years the case had been open.

And then there was perhaps the greatest mystery of all, why Adrien would ever marry Lila Rossi.

“Adrien!” A singsong voice called out from behind them. Ladybug inwardly cringed as a mane of hair and expensive perfume brushed by her, planting a loud kiss on Adrien’s lips and snaking her arms around his neck. “It’s time to go, chouchou.”

“So soon?” He freed an arm from her grasp to check his phone. “It’s only been a little over an hour.”

“Philippe decided to end early today.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Vincent, you mean?”

She waved a hand, dismissing his correction. “Whatever. At least we have some extra time to… do something fun before you have a piano lesson.”

“Piano’s tomorrow. I have fencing today.”

“Of course. Silly me!” Lila giggled as if her blunder was the funniest mistake she ever made.

Ladybug cleared her throat. “I’ll let Nathalie know we’ll be arriving ahead of schedule, if that’s alright with you.”

Lila sneered at her and rolled her eyes. “I much prefer the one that didn’t talk.”

Determined not to let her words have too much meaning, Ladybug quickly put them out of her head, walking in short, quick strides back to the sedan. The drive home was silent and awkward, save for Lila’s occasional critique of Ladybug’s driving skills. Her first day on the job ended worse than it began, with a newfound love for the handsome Adrien Agreste, and a blossoming rivalry with his unbearable fiancée.

#gale-of-the-nomads #miraculous ladybug #bodyguard!mari #ml fic #ml au

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blazehedgehog · 4 years ago

Note

What was the honest reaction to Sonic 06 back in 2006?

It was a long time ago, so I can only really speak to my own perspective.

Sonic 2006 was the time that Sega’s marketing department really started cranking the hype train really, really hard. Sonic 2006 was announced as a fresh start. A soft reboot. Sonic Team said they were treating it like “the first Sonic game on the Sega Genesis.” You still had Tails, and Knuckles, and Shadow, but it was the start of a new era. A new type of Sonic the Hedgehog. More serious, more realistic, more “epic.”

At this point, there was no reason to necessarily distrust any of that. Yes, Sonic games had been slipping in quality, and yes, Sega was still more or less pretending that everything was “okay.” But that was always in the typical, “we’re trying to sell a video game and not go bankrupt” sense. This felt like a tacit acknowledgement that things weren’t so great and they were going to start over and refocus. Set things right.

Early gameplay footage looked rough. I distinctly remember a Gametrailers hands-on where they were demoing the Mach Speed Zone in Kingdom Valley, and the Sega representative was very clear and upfront that the game wasn’t done yet, and all of the empty space Sonic was running through would be filled in later. (It wasn’t.) There was also the typical debate over the TGS 2006 “Bringing it Home” playable demo, where people argued then, too, that the game wasn’t done yet, and not to judge things too harshly. The final version will be better.

The final version also wasn’t done yet. So, y’know.

I had effectively bought an Xbox 360 for this game. I was broke as per usual, but I’d gotten lucky and won a Gametrailers video competition, which landed me $1000 in Gamestop gift cards. I bought a PS2, a Nintendo DS, and an Xbox 360, plus more than a dozen games between the three platforms. I knew there would be more Xbox 360 games besides Sonic 2006, and I’d even originally wanted a 360 primarily for Elder Scrolls Oblivion, but the simple fact is that once the money was in my hands and I spent it, Sonic 2006 was the only actual Xbox 360 game I owned.

Or was going to own, anyway. I think I’d won the contest in September or October of 2006, when Sonic came out in November. So I bought the 360 a few weeks early with some original Xbox games, and spent the interim with Spider-man 2, Ninja Gaiden Black, and the copy of Halo 2 I borrowed from my cousin.

Sonic 2006 was the first game I’d ever pre-ordered. The second game, pre-ordered on the same day, was The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess for the Gamecube. I still have the tiny pre-order statue that came with Sonic. His gloves and socks, once white, have begun to yellow with age, and the skin tone on his face and body is turning an ashy gray.

Even 72 hours before launch, there was not a clear picture what Sonic 2006 actually was. Sega was deliberately obfuscating certain features; early in development they’d sworn up and down that there were only three playable characters in the game, something that blatantly wasn’t true. Perhaps it was miscommunication from Japan, but it meant they were now going out of their way to hide how many other playable characters were actually in the game. I naively distrusted most (if not all) professional reviewers back then, and the earliest scores for Sonic 2006 were all over the map.

As a Sonic fan, you kind of had to know how to read between the lines on the more negative reviews, because we were definitely in the era where it felt like critics were starting to dogpile on the Sonic franchise now that Sega was a third party developer. There weren’t a lot of professional reviews you could trust regarding Sonic games, or at least, that’s what it felt like. This was the rise of the podcast, and snarky hosts were taking whatever low hanging fruit they could get.

I remember waking up on launch day -- friends had gotten up early and picked theirs up in the morning, when I’d rolled out of bed somewhere closer to noon (or maybe even afternoon). I had plans to pick up my copy later that evening, after sunset. My friends did not sound happy, but again, there was always this vibe of “Wait and see.” They had only just started the game. First impressions were still too fresh to really call.

But I had this moment, this cold spot in the pit of my stomach, where I thought “Maybe I can cancel the pre-order and get Gears of War instead?” Reviews for Gears seemed pretty good. I’d probably be happy with it instead of Sonic.

I couldn’t let myself do that. I was a Sonic fan. This was the first big Sonic game of a new generation. A new start. I bought the console for this. First game I ever pre-ordered. The second Sonic game in the history of the franchise I’d bought on launch day. This was it. This was the event. No backing down. Besides, Sonic 2006 was a big 15th Anniversary celebration game. They wouldn’t make such a big deal about the anniversary without just cause, right? Sonic 2006 was going to be great. I just needed to calm down.

So we drove out to Gamestop -- and it was the sort of thing where I think we couldn’t do the pre-order at my local Gamestop for some reason, so this one was a town or two over. It was a journey. I was nervous the whole way there. Something told me I was making a mistake. But I had to do this.

I think it may have been starting to rain as we rolled up on the store. It was around 8pm, and people were starting to camp out on the sidewalk. Literally camp out, tents and all, because of the rain. Today was the launch date for Sonic 2006, but tomorrow was the launch of the Playstation 3. These guys were here for Gamestop’s “Midnight Madness” launch event. They were going to be some of the first to get a PS3. I was probably the last person to pick up a Sonic 2006 pre-order.

Sonic 2006 might have been the first Sonic game to ever make me angry. I’d had a lot of internet debates on how I felt about Sonic Adventure 2, but most of those amounted to splitting hairs about things that felt disappointing when compared to the original Sonic Adventure. I was not angry then, I was simply let down. I was similarly let down when I finally got a chance to play Sonic Heroes. But again, not angry. Baffled, maybe. A little sad. But not angry.

With Sonic 2006, I slammed head first in to all of my excitement and uncertainty at 200mph. This was a Sonic game unlike anything I’d ever played before, and in all of the worst possible ways. Enough has been said about the quality of the game that I don’t need to describe anything that’s wrong with it -- also because literally everything was wrong with it. Perhaps the first video game I’d ever played, ever, on any platform, that actually fought back against your efforts to play it. A disaster in every sense of the word. A broken nightmare. After finishing Sonic’s story, I was mad. How could they let this happen? What was wrong with them?

I was less angry after having finished Shadow’s story. Shadow had even buggier gameplay than Sonic, but it also felt more complex, more action-oriented. His story was better, too -- instead of the sappy Princess love story, Shadow’s story was about how the world was against him, and the crossroads that brought him to: rise above his past and strive to be a better person, or give in to the temptations of evil? It was still dumb as heck, but it was less dumb than Sonic’s story.

By the time the credits rolled, I had accepted the fact that this game was a mess. More of a mess than any Sonic game ever had been before. It was clearly a deeply unfinished game. Friends theorized maybe they could patch the game, because that was a thing games could get now. Sonic 2006 could still be saved. The PS3 version wouldn’t be out for another month, surely that means they’re working on a fix, right? Some were even theorizing over an achievement called “Nights of Kronos” -- it mentioned a “complete ending to the last hidden story.” Perhaps that meant there was going to be more? Maybe we got the bad ending, and a better, more finished ending was waiting for us on the disc somewhere?

There wasn’t. And no patch ever fixed the game. That was Sonic 2006 -- the kiss, the loading screens, the strange mannequin NPCs, the stiff controls, the glitchy physics, the empty overworlds, the bizarre dialog, the plotholes and time paradoxes, that’s just what the game was, and was always going to be, forever.

Before Sonic 2006, you could say that 3D Sonic games were bad, but there was always a place to defend them from. They had problems, but they were never irredeemable. Sonic Heroes may have had frustrating controls and repetitive level design, but it had great art direction, nice music, and fun concepts. They were always trying, dang it, and it was obvious to see that.

Sonic 2006 felt irredeemable. Offensively terrible. A failure on such a level that it was hard to comprehend. Beyond simply “a new low” for the franchise. This felt like rock bottom. It was the kind of bad that spread like a virus. Even good games, like Sonic 2 on the Sega Genesis, felt notably tarnished by the existence of Sonic 2006. It threatened to ruin the entire franchise by proximity alone. For some, it probably did. I definitely had a moment where I wondered if I would ever enjoy a Sonic game in the same way ever again. They were all tainted now. Infected by memories of Sonic 2006, the game that was supposed to save the franchise, but condemned it to the lowest pits of hell.

In isolation, that might have been the end for me. I might have continued to drift away, bit by bit, until I found greener hills outside of the Sonic franchise.

I’ve said this before, but what saved me was getting hired to write for TSSZ News. Now, suddenly, I was paid to play and write about Sonic games. It was a duty. And it helped that the first Sonic game I reviewed for TSSZ ended up being Sonic Unleashed, a game I continue to openly gush about to this day, more than a decade after its release.

But never forget that Sonic 2006 was such a disaster that it nearly made me give up Sonic the Hedgehog. It really was that bad.

#questions #sonic the hedgehog #sega #sonic 2006 #tssz news #Anonymous

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kiwi-bitchez · 5 years ago

Text

Permafrost

Chapter 4: superpowers and liquid courage

Read chapters 1, 2, and 3, all are also on my Ao3

Summary: Peter and Y/N sneak around the boat and try to find ways to kill the time. Stumbling upon a bar, you take it upon yourself to pour the liquid courage you need to finally talk to peter about what happened that night at the party.

Warnings: language and alcohol consumption

A/N: can this be a slow burn even though they've already fucked??? More smut is coming, I promise ;) Drop requests for oneshots or ideas for fics you want to see in my ask box! Smut/fluff/anything! Plz! I’m so lonely and horny all the time.

The first handful of days on the boat generally consist of jetlag, seasickness, and mundane ways to kill the onsetting boredom. Just about everyone slept for the majority of the first day of the trip, that 11-hour flight was no joke, and segueing directly onto a boat wasn’t exactly an easy transition.

The bunks on the ship weren’t ideal, but they were nice enough. You weren’t exactly used to luxury anyways. The bedrooms could easily be compared to small dorm rooms, and the bathrooms weren’t large enough for more than one person to be seasick at a time.

Both you and Peter didn’t have too much trouble with that, as you found the constant swaying kind of comforting, and you were sure Peter was immune to motion sickness. However, everyone else wasn’t quite as adept as the two of you, making the first 48 hours generally miserable for everyone.

“I can’t stand being in here listening to Steve throw up any longer,” Peter says, sitting up in his bed and tossing a wad of paper at the back of your head.

“Hey!” you turn from your seat at the small desk where you had been trying to distract yourself with work, “watch it!”

“Can we do something, please,” Peter looks at you, making a ridiculous puppy-dog face that you knew you couldn’t say no to, “just like a walk around the ship, we can go up to the top deck, literally anything, please.”

“Ugh I guess,” you pretend to be annoyed but are actually glad to be getting out of the tiny bedroom. You hadn’t taken much time to explore around the ship, and you figured it would be beneficial considering you were going to be here for quite some time.

Following Peter, who walked incredibly fast, always slightly bouncing and skipping when he stepped, you made your way to the main room. There was a small kitchen, a few couches, and a dining table. You flop dramatically back onto one of the couches in the middle of the room, letting all your limbs hang off the sides.

“Great, now we can just listen to everyone be sick from out here,” you flop your head back to look at peter from an upside-down angle.

“At least the acoustics are better,” he quips back as he rummages through every drawer and cabinet.

“Is this really the only other room other than our sleeping quarters?” you ask, assuming he had been told more than you about the trip.

“Yeah, I think so. There are the other rooms upstairs, the conference room, and the top deck. I think Tony mentioned something about an entertainment room but he said it was closed off. This boat used to be for small private trips until they refurbished it to make the trip to Antarctica, now mostly it’s used by larger groups of scientists and stuff like that, so no real need for an entertainment room.”

“No need for an entertainment room? What, you science nerds don’t like to have fun?” You joke, having recently learned about Peter’s love for math and science, particularly chemistry.

“Not exactly anti-fun, more like anti-relaxation,” he flops beside you in a similar fashion on the couch across from yours, “I’m pretty sure Stark sealed off that conference room and is using it as a lab. Like he couldn’t just relax for a few days, that would be impossible.”

“Why aren’t you up there with him doing top-secret Avenger’s science?”

“Eh, he told me to scram when I offered to help. Sometimes he gets into the zone and refuses to let anyone help him. I kind of get it, but it means I’m stuck here, bored out of my mind.”

“Damn, sorry I’m so boring I guess,” you joke, sarcastically rolling your eyes at him.

“That is not what I-” he starts before looking over at you, realizing your tongue is stuck out at him.

“Race you to the top,” you say quickly as you take a head start out the door.

The two of you tumble down the hallway, flailing your arms and trying to knock one another over. He manages to squeak by you and scramble up the stairs to the top deck first.

“Hey that is not fair,” you yell over to him, already starting to shiver, “I don’t have radioactive blood and spider muscles or whatever it is you have.”

You join him over by the railing, looking out at the vast ocean. Although it is beautiful, the cold is unbearable and the wind is whipping your hair in every direction.

“This was a better idea in theory,” Peter turns to you, “I think I spotted Monopoly down there.”

“Okay are we five?” you joke back, but you secretly loved Monopoly, fully ready to kick Peter’s ass.

Although the two of you grew comfortable quickly, there was still a slight air of tension. There was that underlying thing that neither of you was going to bring up, but secretly wished the other would. You used humor as a coping mechanism, constantly deflecting with sarcasm and bad jokes.

It was inconvenient that the only person who really wanted to spend time with you was Peter, and you spent almost every minute of the day together. All of this would have been easier if you just had to awkwardly acknowledge him in passing, but no, you were literally sleeping less than 10 feet apart.

You tried to just see him as a friend, someone you could be goofy and dick around with. You think he is trying to see you the same way too. You try your best to keep physical contact out of the picture, but he can’t help but to grab your hand to drag you off somewhere, or for you to ruffle his hair after he says something stupid.

There was that inherent chemistry between the two of you, and if you hadn’t known better you could have ignored it, but that was the problem, you did know better. You both knew how you had fucked each other’s brains out that night, how the sexual interest and intense attraction truly was there and wasn’t just something you were imagining. But still, you resign to scrunching your nose at him and cracking bad jokes over board games to repress any feelings of wanting him on top of you.

You had found a small stack of board games and would cycle through them and play with anyone who was willing to sit with you and Peter for that long. Monopoly, Risk, and Scrabble. Certain members of the team would come in for certain games, some were better competitors than others. But that’s how the two of you mutually decided to pass the time. When you weren’t stewing over maps and images of cliff faces, you would go down to the common room with Peter and wait around until you had a large enough party to play. A few days passed by this way and you didn’t mind, it also gave you the chance to spend some time with the other members of the team, although they never became less intimidating.

You sat at the tiny wooden desk, you ass getting sore from sitting on the hard, wooden chair. You had been shuffling through papers, not really concentrating on anything in particular, when you felt Peter enter the room. You had headphones on and had the music cranked up, but you could always feel when he entered the room, despite how light on his feet he was.

You turn around, surprised to not see him there. But before you can fully turn back around to the desk your body instinctively recoils at Peter hanging upside down dangling over the wooden surface. You gasp as you start to fall back, chair slipping out underneath you. He shoots out a web from god knows where and catches the chair inches before it hits the ground.

You clutch your chest, slightly worried that cardiac arrest might be in your near future. Before you can yell at him, or even get up, he is toppled over on the desk cracking up. He lowers you slowly, so you are now flat on your back. He continues to hysterically laugh and you can’t help but join him.

“What the fuck man!” you finally say in between giggles.

“I’m sorry I-” Peter, still gasping for air in between bellows, “I just wanted to scare you, I didn’t realize you would-” still laughing.

“You are an asshole,” you say, finally getting up, you smack him off your desk and start to reorganize your papers.

“You can’t be mad at me, that was so funny,” Peter, finally upright, moves across the room.

“You bet your ass I will be getting you back though,” you point your finger sternly at him, although you were unsure how you could top hanging from the ceiling, “If you are here to ask me to play scrabble with you, I may explode.”

“No, no, I need a solid 12-hour break from board games before I kick your ass at Monopoly again,” he never stops rubbing it in, “I was just wondering if you wanted to look around for something to eat for dinner.”

You smooth out your hair and clothes to join him in the hallway, quickly entering the somewhat crowded main room. The others were eating as well, as everyone had become accustomed to the motion of the ocean and had started taking Dramamine. The two of you conclude on a box of mac and cheese, as long as Peter did all the work. He owed you at least that considering your heart stopped for a solid 15 after that stunt he pulled.

Everyone finishes their meals and clears out of the room, heading back to their respective rooms, leaving you and Peter to discuss the mechanics of eating mac and cheese with a spork.

“Make sure to wrap it before you tap it, kids,” Sam nudges Peter on the shoulder as he exited the room.

“Oh my god do they all know about that?” you ask.

“Kind of,” Peter’s face grew red, “they all really like you, I swear.”

“He wouldn’t shut up about you for weeks!” Sam yells from the hallway, clearly still within earshot of you.

You threw your hands over your face in embarrassment. You couldn’t believe that all the freaking Avengers knew about your sex life. You wondered how much Peter had told them, but didn’t dare ask. You just hoped they all knew that you were professional and hadn’t just weaseled your way onto this trip because you had slept with Spiderman, although that technically was the case.

“I am painfully bored,” you admit, bringing your dishes to the sink, “is there really nothing else to do other than Monopoly and sleep?”

“I mean I can think of a few things…” Peter jokes, although you hope deep down that he isn’t.

“Hey, quit it with the flirting,” you join him on the couch, “you made me dinner and now you’re making passes at me, don’t break the rules.”

“But rules are so boooooring, and this boat is soooo booooring,” he slumps into your lap, making those puppy dog eyes at you again.

“Okay then, lets… do something exciting then,” you suggest, getting up and waltzing across the room.

“What could possibly be exciting?”

“If I remember your top-secret Avengers info correctly, there is a whole game room just waiting to be broken into.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” Peter questions, “hey, and isn’t your whole deal that you want to be respectful and professional and everything?”

Although he makes a fair point, everyone is in bed at this point and your boredom was killing your brain cells. You both could use something to occupy your minds as this boat slowly trudges into colder and colder territory.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you start, “I didn’t realize you were bitten by a radioactive scardey cat.”

He rolls his eyes at you and follows you out into the hallway and down the stairs.

“Fine, but I am not taking the blame for this if we get in trouble.”

“Fine, fine, it was all my idea, you can even rat me out.”

You make your way down to the bottom floor, where neither of you had yet been. You find the door at the end of the hallway and quietly jiggle the door handle open.

“Dude, your secret intel was all lies,” you whisper, “the door wasn’t even locked.”

You slip your way into the door and feel around for a light switch. Although it was nowhere near as exciting as you would have hoped, it was still something. The lights flicker on and reveal a mostly empty ballroom, a small one albeit, a few tables, couches, and a bar. It wasn’t much different from the room upstairs except the one thing that caught your eye, the bar.

“Come on Peter, it will be fun,” you start, already knowing he will protest your devilish ideas, “plus, I bet no one can even hear us down here.”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to take anything that doesn’t belong to me.”

“If that’s your concern I have like twenty bucks in cash upstairs that I will gladly leave in the place of whichever one of these fine bottles we choose to take.”

“I suppose,” you notice him coming around to the idea, “but we have to be quiet, I don’t want to disrupt anyone’s sleep.”

“Of course, of course,” you were now behind the bar, eyeing your selections, “pick your poison, Parker.”

You grab a bottle and take a seat on one of the couches, Peter sits down across from you.

“Are we friends?” you ask Peter, taking a swig right from the bottle and passing it over to him.

“Um, I guess so? Why?” Peter takes a sip much more easily than you had expected.

“I just feel like I don’t know anything about you. Friends know things about each other.”

“You know that I’m Spiderman, most people don’t know that about me.”

“I guess,” you take the bottle back from him, “but we have spent every day together for almost a week now, and I don’t really know anything about you. Your name is Peter Parker, you have magic spider monkey powers, you have a big dick...”

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” he says, hand out asking for the bottle again.

“Hmm?” you finish your sip and hand the liquor over.

“My middle name is Benjamin, that’s something you don’t know about me.”

“That’s so cute,” the liquor hitting you already, “that suits you so well.”

“Thanks, it was my Uncle’s name,” Peter took a long sip, “he, um, he died when I was in high school.”

“Oh,” you didn’t expect this conversation to get so serious so quickly, “were you two close?’

“Yeah, my parents are dead, so he and my Aunt May were my guardians. May is great, she’s like the best person ever, love her with my whole heart. But Uncle Ben died and it was pretty hard on us, and I became Spiderman, and… it was all kind of a mess, to be honest.”

“I’m- I’m really sorry to hear that,” you look down, unsure of how to continue.

“Ok now you go,” he says, handing you the bottle.

“Huh?” you were still trying to process everything he had just thrown out there.

“Our drinking game, you say something the other person doesn’t know about you and also you drink.”

“That just sounds like a conversation to me.”

“Ok, then you come up with something!”

“No, no, I like it,” you laugh, the alcohol steadily setting into your bloodstream, “I just don’t really have any exciting secrets like dead parents or superpowers though.”

“That’s ok, just tell me your favorite ice cream flavor or something. You are right, we barely know anything about each other.”

“Coffee, but coffee mixed with cookies and cream, so like the coffee ice cream has little bits of cookie mixed in it. What’s yours?”

“Ben and Jerry's.”

“That’s not a flavor, that’s a brand.”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s my answer. This is my game, so I say Ben and Jerry's.”

The two of you had somehow migrated from the couches over to the large wooden dance floor, laying with arms and legs starfished out around you. You went back and forth, telling stupid facts about yourselves, whoever wasn’t talking was drinking. You flip over onto your stomachs and rest your head on your arms, crossed in front of you. You were staring directly into Peter’s eyes.

Normally being this close to him would make you a blend of anxious and horny and giddy. However, the bottle was well over half gone at this point. The two of you had been talking for hours, rolling around on the hard floor and laughing at each other’s stories.

“Have you ever been in love?” you ask, the thought escaping your mouth before it could be filtered through your brain.

“Damn,” Peter, equally as drunk as you, responds, “that’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

“Okay mister shares-a-room-with-me-and-also-let-me-suck-his-dick-in-a-spare-room-at-a-work-function Parker.”

“Hey,” he sits up, struggling a little bit, “I thought we were secretly silently agreeing not to bring that up.”

“Ban lifted,” you sit up too, “we are playing the reveal-your-secrets drinking game that YOU made up.”

“It’s called “get to know your roommate better through discussion and drink” and it’s fun,” he says defensively, “and no, I was a loser in high school and now I spend my weekends lurking around in alleyways waiting for people to punch, so no, never been in love.”

“You lurk in alleyways? Doesn’t really sound very superhero esque to me,” you make fun of him.

“I’ve been to space, so, suck on that.”

“Can I see it?”

Peter gives you a funny look, not entirely sure what you’re getting at.

“Your suit you dummy, show me your super suit. Show me Spiderman!”

“I don’t know y/n, I’m kind of drunk and I don’t want to wake anyone up.”

“What? Spiderman can’t be quiet? Please, Peter, pleeeasssee.”

“Ok fine but I’m taking that twenty from your wallet to leave at the bar.”

“Fine!” you lay back on the ground, closing your eyes that felt very heavy, “I’ll be here waiting for you Spideyyy.”

Peter takes a while, slowly making his way up the stairs to your shared room. You patiently wait for him, pacing around the entertainment room taking long gliding steps, twirling around with your arms spread out.

“Okay, I have a few different ones with me, but this one is the coolest for sure,” Peter starts talking to you before he is even all the way down the stairs, taking them three at a time. You stare at him with bulging eyes, mouth dropping slightly agape.

“What? Don’t look at me like that you’re making me self-conscious,” he steps into the room, Spider-suit clinging tightly to his body.

“How?” you walk up to him, placing a hand on the shiny material, surprised to find it was cold and metallic to the touch, “are you so perfect?”

“Excuse me?” Peter stumbles a little bit.

“Look at you! You’re freaking amazing!” you fall back onto the old leather couch, making your landing dramatic, as if he had blown you away.

“Shut up, don’t make fun of me,” Peter shies away, “I’m not even gonna put the mask on now.”

“I’m not making fun of you! Do something super, please?? Will you??”

He sighs, exasperated, and drunk, and shoots a web across the room, swinging his body along with it. He wasn’t as graceful as he usually was, and had never tried using his suit while intoxicated, so this was all new.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim, causing Peter to whip around and dramatically motion for you to be quiet, “fuck, sorry. Holy shit!” you whisper.

“Can I take it off? I’m getting sweaty,” he drops his shoulders and mopes.

“I suppose…” you shuffle back over to the couch, “but know I like you much more in the sexy superhero outfit than those sweats you’ve been rocking.”

“Don’t hate on the joggers,” he was slipping back into them, you hadn’t even noticed that he had taken the spider suit off, it had happened so fast. You found yourself staring at his bare chest, unable to control your drunk expression of lust.

“Are we still playing the roommate honesty game?” you ask, desperately trying to focus your eyes on something other than Peter getting dressed.

“Yes,” he grabs the bottle over from where you had left it on the table, “and it’s my turn to ask.”

“Okay shoot spider-boy.”

He takes a long sip before sitting across from you, looking at you intently. “You lifted the ban, so I get to ask, and I’m just drunk enough to not give a fuck, so I have to do it.”

“Okay?” unsure of where he was going with this.

“Why,” he pauses before taking another quick sip, “why did you leave that night? Why didn’t you leave your number?”

It took you a second, and you sat there, slightly uncomfortable. You weren’t sure how to start, opening your mouth before words had formed in your brain.

“I’m sorry,” he cuts you off before you can even speak, “You don’t have to answer that, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“No, its ok,” you felt weirdly sober suddenly, despite not being able to feel your hands or feet or cheeks, “I- I just didn’t really know what I was doing. I had never really slept with someone I didn’t know like that, and I wasn’t sure what the rules were, what the protocol was.”

“I’m not good at that stuff either,” he avoided eye contact with you, “I probably just should have asked you for it.”

“I just, I didn’t want to leave it and then have you never call. I figured you were so busy being an Avenger, and you probably get girls all the time. I just jumped to the conclusion that it all meant a lot more to me than it did to you,” you look up at him, face previously buried in your hands.

“It meant something to me,” he says, “are you kidding, how could it not have? Did you hear Sam earlier? All I could talk about for weeks was how pissed I was that I didn’t ask you for your number, that I let you slip away.”

“I’m sorry for instilling the secret ban on talking about it,” you apologize to him, “and I’m sorry I left that night, I was just nervous. You make me nervous.”

“I am so un-intimidating. Thor is here, Captain America is here, they are intimidating. I’m like a 7 on a good day and all I can cook is boxed mac and cheese. Why do I make you nervous?”

“First off, shut up, you’re an 11 every day and you know it, you might be a secret genius, and you have freaking superpowers, plus you lowkey got me this job so I owe a lot to you.”

“I’m sorry if things have been weird or tense or whatever,” his cheeks turning redder than they had previously been.

“Don’t apologize, it’s a weird situation that neither one of us could have known about. And I’m the one who should be sorry if things are weird or tense.”

Peter gets up and joins you on the couch, resting his head on your shoulder. You still felt very nervous, but in a new way. You just want to lay there and hold him, let him know that you like him, that you really really like him.

“Do you think we could make it less weird?” your mouth does that thing again, saying ideas before your brain can properly filter them, “Do you think if we just kissed once it would diffuse the tension?”

You weren’t sure if this was actually a good idea, or if your brain was just trying to find a rational way to bring up to Peter how you wanted nothing more than to kiss him. You turned to him, alcohol helping with the typical nervousness and awkwardness that this situation would typically present.

“You just have to promise me,” he says, bringing one of his strong hands to cup your cheek.

“Promise you what?”

“Promise me that you’ll stop.”

“Stop?”

“Yeah, stop. Stop being pretty. Stop being funny. Stop being smart and witty and better than me at board games. Stop talking in your sleep and leaving your towel on your head for hours after you’ve gotten out of the shower. Stop doing all those things that are making this trip so hard for me. You have to promise me that you’ll stop.”

“If I promise, then you’ll kiss me?” you whisper, leaning into the hand that was pressed against your skin. He nods at you, tucking his lower lip between his teeth.

“Okay, then I promise. I’ll be mean and horrible to you for the rest of the trip. I’ll be nasty and unlikeable, and I’ll tell even more jokes than I already do, and now you won’t even have to pretend to laugh.”

He scrunches his nose at you, grinning a familiar smile as he leans into you.

“You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

You part your lips slightly, his mouth hovering over yours as you take a sharp breath inward, preparing yourself. His hand snakes from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his and holding your head steadily, not wanting to feel your lips part from his. You latch onto his lower lip, hands coming up instinctively to cup his face.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you pull his face closer to yours. His hand on the base of your neck and your hands on his face acted as a human vice grip, locking your faces together as you felt his lips interlock with yours. You tilt your head, allowing his tongue to slip into your ready mouth.

The kiss wasn’t sexual or heated, the way a tension diffusing kiss was supposed to be, it was slow, earnest, warm.

You were drunk, but you could feel every shift and movement in his body, every maneuver of his hand. He wasn’t kissing you the way a drunk boy should kiss you, he kissed you as if you had just come home from the airport, like you just received good news, like you had known each other for much longer than this Antarctica trip.

You were the one to pull away, immediately regretting it the moment you did. You stared at him with sad eyes, not knowing what would happen next. He just stared back, not wanting to register that the kiss was over.

Before he could say anything or look at you in a way that made you feel the need to say something, you turned around, back facing him and laid back. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Taking his hand and weaving his long fingers between yours, you tell him

“I hate you,” staying true to your promise. You close your eyes and let your body fully relax into his.

“I hate you more,” he kisses the top of your head, burying his face in your hair, closing his eyes too.

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #spiderman #spider man #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #lowkey fluffy

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unproduciblesmackdown · 4 years ago

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here’s the matter of fact text post re: i guess i achieved the goal of an intermittent thing i’d do where i’d try to find anyone online talking about the ‘weird’ experience i have with masturbation which is, inherently, not exciting or anything but it’s like, even if i just Know of course it’s not just me, i want to like, hear someone else talk about anything similar ever, b/c so far it’s just a text post i saw once and can’t ever rediscover and someone talking about their experience that stems from an inapplicable physical trauma so....Yay, seeing as it’s been years i’ve been like “seriously though” lmao

i was like Lol @ myself b/c i was like “man after i try for like 30 sec to crank it it a) doesn’t go anywhere hardly and b) i lose interest Way fast and it’s like mildly annoying” and so i thought about that post that’s like [me after sex: well that was a waste of my goddamn time. anyway back to speedrunning] but that’s me after a halfhearted attempt to masturbate and not really getting anything out of it anyways lmaoo like. it’s okay or i wouldn’t even bother fairly regularly but also it tends to end with like, me going off on a distracted tangent for even a moment and it can just hit an absolute brick wall like okay i don’t even have the Interest in continuing with this anymore like i might’ve had before starting like Well That Was A Waste Of My Goddamn Time Anyway Back To [whatever it is that i do]

and then like either that same night or the next my dreams had the audacity to get deeply uncomfortable for no reason like. all i do is have Anxiety Dream Themes thrown together where like. for example as i write this, two nights ago i had a dream segment about “i’m on vacation at the beach” but it was all Anxiety b/c it’ll all be about how i can hardly visit said beach coz i keep getting sidetracked at the hotel or w/e while i’m Trying to visit it while i still can, and last night i had the same Theme but trying and failing to ride roller coasters (which i Enjoy irl) and like, the beach one in particular recurs not Too infrequently lmao where i’m surprised by the rarity of something like “you’re at the beach and it’s fun” lol.......i don’t have anything i’d call a nightmare too often but Anxiety / a somewhat threatening/worrisome situation is like, fairly constant lol, with some occasionally more neutral stuff and a really rare Fun Dream but anyways it was still Bizarre that my dreams pitched me “you’re Someone who i guess is dating this abstract Partner and the scenario is you feel obligated to have sex with them” and it was weird like, woke up the next day like “why did my brain drag me through this deeply unpleasant dream situation” like. not totally unheard of for my dreams to touch on a Scene ft. sex and/or physical intimacy and even on occasion it’ll be an “i’m (or whoever i am as a maybe semi-abstract First Person camera character lol maybe ft. some particular concept attached to the ‘role’) having some sexual encounter and it’s Fine or enjoyable” but it’s generally fleeting As Per Usual Dream Structure and it’s like why was this one that sucked like, particularly dragged out by those usual dream standard’s, come on

anyways so going “haha i’m living the Waste Of My Goddamn Time thing” and “well thank you to my own brain for a bizarre and unpleasant experience while i’m just trying to be passed tf out” i was like “let’s look up again why not only can i not seem to orgasm but also like even expecting a way lower level of stimulation still Disappoints sometime like why do i bother” and yeah after first going the “does anyone Never manage to Not slam into a brick wall / basically completely lose interest all at once or practically all at once even and it all goes back to zero even if you started at like maybe a 1 or 1.5 and sometimes it happens with going down a random mental track” route i interestingly got some cis guys going “yeah hate when that happens on occasion” but yeah by now i had of course given up on “can i come at this from an [experiencing sensory input and processing from an autistic angle] angle” like. idk still interested in that of course lmao but god is searching for it a bit exhausting. but yeah after i threw in an [-erectile] search modifier i got was like oh a result on a site about asexuality re: masturbation, why didn’t i think of That angle. idk but here we are

informative stuff but the comments section where people who wanted to read an [about: masturbation] on a site About asexuality were talking about their experiences was like. i had mentioned how it was Enlightening that one person said I Do Not Enjoy Orgasms lol like i have not really heard that angle vs “you might not enjoy sexual stimulation” and/or “you might not be able to orgasm” but not you Can orgasm but you Might Not Even Like It Really like. the person said yes they got the Peak Of Intense Pleasure out of the orgasm but not so much any kind of afterglow and felt like they get dropped back to where they were before even trying to masturbate (aka. square zero again lol) and just yeah outright mentioned Not Enjoying it and another person replied like Yep it’s like that for me too.........already i’m like man i don’t even approach anywhere near an orgasm Ever but man would not be surprised if, even if i theoretically was capable of the physical experience, it would be the same as this way lower level Waste Of My Goddamn Time deal lol.......it’s Hilarious too that like. say “being at all in the mood to try to spank it” is a Square/Level 1, i feel like yeah most of the time i’m only getting this shit going to a 1.5, maybe a 2 or 2.5 if we’re on fire......very very very rarely have i been like “hey that was like, a 3 or some shit, damn” and honestly it’s not like oh so that ruled and is motivation to continue b/c like. the Surprise of it throws me off and it’s not necessarily that Great a surprise, more just like, jeez, idk, it feels like A Bit Much that basically registers as Tension where i’m hardly encouraged to keep it up like, makes me wonder if that’s a Sensory Processing Thing aka how sometimes i try to get any more in depth info on the logistics of Experiencing Sexual Stimulation re: also being autistic and the variety of ways that can unfold (i do know that like. the Sensory thing apparently can sure be a factor in either direction, i.e. might cause some ppl to really not enjoy sexual stimulation Or to like, super enjoy it. allistic ppl who might realize “thinking sex is awesome” is “”normal,”” brilliant.....like u didnt also “realize” that stims like fidget cubes and weighted blankets can be enjoyed “”normally”” like. still having a diff experience here and shut it) and i remember one time i was like “c’est la vie i will purchase a vibrator (and i got a second, external one as some deal going on)” and it was just a No Go b/c. it didn’t feel “bad” in that it was not necessarily like, yep here’s some sexual stimulation, but it was like, overwhelming in a Not Good way, yet also not physically painful, and i realize vibrators are made w/ different intensities and i definitely got Mildest ones so it wasn’t that

anyways like yeah #tbt to a time i really gave it a go (vibrator-less) for truly just short of two solid hours......plenty of that was me at Square Zero and getting back to level 1 alone (aka like. feeling Any positive response at all lmao) was kind of an achievement and maybe there was some 1.5 or 2 in there but it wasn’t like i felt that motivated and Just Keeping At It was not necessarily helping so. that was a waste of my goddamn time

can’t really remember what i was doing differently the last time i kicked things up to maybe a solid 2-3 Zone for truly like One Moment lol.....think i was just getting a little more hands on (since usually a spike in intensity makes me go “[?? / !!] whoa :/” and i lose Any momentum and/or “progress”) and that spike in intensity made me go [?? / !!] Whoa :/ and it didn’t matter, just got back to zero as always, and it’s not like these “Achievements” are “Enlightening” where i’m then like wow everyone’s right, really Trying with this shit pays off like lol. i still make a cursory effort but really just to burn off that Level 1-ness if anything like. kinda like “yeah neat here we go” but like. probably literally a minute or two later it’s like well Anyways.......another fun detail is that it’s not Always like “oh i got off on some mental sidetrack and losing focus = losing like All of even this low level of arousal and im back at zero” like, i might be in the middle of things and Lose Interest even while i’m currently experiencing a nonzero level of “yep this is some sexual stimulation” lol but it’s just like smh Whatever @ it......like, on the one hand the Tension of the stimulation gets in its own way, but if i entirely lose that then it’s like well okay this isn’t gonna go anywhere, may as well stop

so anyhow here’s the Particular Comment where i was like “wow this is so similar to #me that i guess i’ve finally found Someone Talking About It* (*however it goes for me)”

i can’t say i’ve done the Holding My Breath thing on Purpose but now sometimes i do notice i do it (and have probably Been doing it) lol like oh there i went and Exhaled in a [was holding my breath] way lol coz like they say there with the Loss Of Any Tension and the Square Zero (Not Even Square One) thing like yeah lmao. and very same with the Five Minutes Max thing b/c yeah it really can be even less than One Minute sometimes before it’s like yeah square zero or just i lose enough interest anyways, getting bored like they say, ugh like it’s a brief description obviously lmao but i’m like god well there it is i guess, the [i know it’s not Just Me experiencing this like this but i’d still fucking like to find anyone else actually talking about it] account For Once Finally, thanks for putting it out there, Disappointed and a lil bored

naturally there are also ppl in the comments talking about how masturbation is an enjoyable thing for them and particular tips there but like it is Hilarious to me how a) some people orgasm easily or like. orgasm if they put effort into masturbation lmaooo like fucking imagine. and b) idk it’s like well i’m sure i’ve made hundreds of attempts and not even any Near Misses, it is simply like, not happening and c) yet at the same time Like This Commenter it’s like “well is there just another way of doing it i somehow haven’t hit on” like naturally i have to wonder like well idk maybe it’d be diff with a sexual partner b/c yknow, the same stimulation from Someone Else vs Yourself, and yet d) ha ha of course i haven’t had sex which people Don’t think of as Not A Joke lmao i referred to this fact abt myself with some casual humor to someone and my temper flared up when that was later taken as a Cue for someone who is not me to jokingly reference it (by Temper Flaring i mean i got annoyed enough to go Do Not Do That e.g. the post that’s like “[asserts one boundary] i’m not a people pleaser anymore i’m actually a huge cunt now”) and i probably shouldn’t feel like i have to “justify” this as well somehow other people have probably tried to Make A Move re: me but i have not been into it like well, what if nobody had ever been Interested that i knew of, that would be fine too, but. i am aware that ppl think of this as a joke still lmao, and i have to say that. im already doing letters like a) b) c) aren’t i but whatever, starting over a) well i haven’t had All the opportunity in the world as i have at various points (but basically continuously) for various reasons been pretty isolated and b) idk i have not had all these signs that point to me wanting to have sex with people exactly lmao but it’s like, c) even if i go “well maybe there’s Exceptions out there or Situations That Will Be Conducively Different Than The Limited Range Of Ones I’ve Had So Far” it’s like, okay, i could still just continue to feel “nah :/” re: any “opportunity” that ever presents itself or whatever. it is all very abstract for me anyways, so it’s like, whatever. but i’m also not the most Glad to discuss it b/c idk a lot of this stuff i know is like A Joke including how i’m still simmering with resentment from a year ago or more over some Tweet i saw trying to dunk a meme about how asexuals are Anti-Psychology like, that’s an entire Other Essay there but needless to say for one thing i just pre-resent people hearing “could being autistic factor into the particular experience i have losing interest / arousal so easily (and inevitably as it’s big time primary anorgasmia around here)” and going “aha that makes sense b/c being ace means there’s something Dysfunctional going on cuz Lbr and bieng autistic means being a Fucked Up version of an allistic person and your autistacity is going to fuck up things about you which ought to function properly” like well that feeds right into itself in a loop and i hate it. and i know the whole “hehe someone who hasn’t had sex is a loser” thing is way engrained in there lmao ppl throw that punchline out all the time and like, idk, see the (i’m autistic) thing like it’s not like this is an unprecedented concept or the only front on which im like “i Know this is a thing ppl negatively judge in general but i also Know i do not buy into that or feel bad about it” like i do not personally consider myself cringe and fail for not having had sex ever and do not consider that Premise that someone is a joke for it to be true re: anyone but at the same time i know that this whole Awareness that people are shitty about it is frustrating to me lol. plus i think it is getting into the Entire Thing where concepts as broad as Maturity and Humanity At Its Most Complex And Worthwhile are considered intrinsically linked to romance and sex, which is something that i am somewhat self-conscious of being aromantic and [having never had sex and it could well be that i will not ever have sex even if The Opportunity(tm) is there] and i know it is frustrating to me b/c sometimes when i start to even talk about “i have not had sex yes im aware this is like (spit take) what a nerd, Sure” b/c i will easily cry out of frustration like 5 seconds in lol. which i cry easily enough but Usually getting teared up b/c i feel Hyped Up / Enthusiasm for something lmfao.......anyways plenty of tangents to go down here but my point is shoutout to the other person for also never orgasming and just being bored with masturbation if anything

and also to the people who were like “i can have / have had orgasms but i don’t actually enjoy it” like considering the way that [not like i experience anything even close to an orgasm but there is sometimes An Increase in arousal achieved, either a tiny raise in the Level or on occasion a bit of a kick which is mostly like “whoa tf chill out”] is overall Underwhelming even if there is Any enjoyment in it and the whole Back To Square Zero (Not Even Square One) thing re: the entire lack of afterglow they mention and it’s like well that kinda feels like parallel experiences here lmao. which tbh is like. makes me care even less with like Humorous Annoyance at the fact that ppl are out here simply able to have orgasms and to have access to that just by like yep here i go masturbating lmaooo like okay

anyways idk how to Conclude this lmfao. Fun Fact i have hc’s about how winston billions who is autistic experiences sexual stimulation (he gets the Really Enjoys It kind of sensory processing time here lol) but i suppose the easiest simplest one to explain is the “remember the Tayston Crying Sex drawing, the idea is that things can be kinda overwhelming while still being Good if it’s handled right by his partner (or himself ig lol) and he can tear up as sort of an overflow thing” like well you probably already knew that was connected to the broader whole of Winston Billions Autistic Hc’s but in case you didn’t: it is

#me and ''Disappointed and a lil bored'' out here #round of applause from me to me....like the time i stumbled across the Source Media for some preview i remembered from a blockbuster vhs #like 20 yrs ago or whatever like ''am i making this sort of Distinctive memory up or modifying one to hell and back / combining them'' like #no i was not but it sure took me a While to mostly coincidentally find it via watching a list on youtube of like. partially Lost or just rly #obscure niche shit....it'd been a preview for a pc game for an ye olde disney series i'd never heard of in my life #anyways the point is it'd been something *i'd* been searching around for intermittently for a good while and managed to find and it was like #hooray but also i realize it's hardly relevant to like. much of anyone else but oh well good for me

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thestudyfeels · 6 years ago

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🎨 Graphic made by @indiaisstudying: India is brilliant my pals, and I recommend checking her out for studyblr/artblr inspiration. My girl tHIRIVES.

The singular takeaway from this post: Do a creative binge. Much productive than a Netflix binge. Period.

Two months ago, I reached my peak when I coined the term ‘bood day’ (a bad to good day, in my article How To Flip A Bad Day By 180°). Today, puppies and kittens, I present to you— a creative binge.

*crickets chirping, that one dude in the audience scratches his nose and turns away*

…This one actually works but okay, we get it, y'all are bitches. But gonna do my job anyway– if you're a creator reading this, please do a creative binge at least once every two weeks.

I started doing these binges two months ago, and I've seen a VAST improvement in my creative energy. I feel my commercial voice coughing and saying hello to the mic, so before I start listing side-effects for a sponsored pill, let's dive into the basics.

🍵 Quick PSA —

↪ JOIN MY TAGLIST? If you aren't on this yet, please get on it, it'll mean a lot to me! By joining, you get a new article on lifestyle design & productivity every week.

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Ever questioned your life, experienced writer's block, painter’s pain or blogger’s… block? (Narrator: aaaand she's back to advertising.) A creative binge helps deal with fixing exactly that.

“A creative binge is based off the equation of quality in = quality out.”

A lot of creators feel that they're supposed to magically create out of their head, and that's just ridiculous. It's ludicrous considering you don't know shit, read shit, do shit and watch shit.

Even to write fiction, my pal, you'll have to expose yourself to the world to know its ways, read great books and take tips (not to mention stock up on coffee, and prepare to cry a lot) before you start cranking out the pages. Everything you create is ultimately inspired by the Ways Of The World. (And that's a fantastic novel title)

So in short, you’ve got to consume content, to make content. And in a creative binge, you conscious choose content that'll help you create. Genius, I know!

Okay, but what if I'm not a creator?

Brilliant question! Wanna become more valuable and leave the people you interact with better? Take a creative binge.

Allow me an elaboration: Take a janitor and a neurosurgeon. The said janitor is paid much less than the neurosurgeon. Why is that? Is the neurosurgeon a better person? That's debatable. Is the janitor less efficient at his work? Again, debatable. The primal reason lies in the neurosurgeon acquiring more valuable skills than the janitor. Society rewards them by paying more since there are less folks who can do what the neurosurgeon does.

To recap: In order to be indispensable in the role you play (whatever it is, a student, calligrapher, CEO of the Janitor Club), you HAVE to become valuable. Grow your curiosity & know more than yo’ buddies (also bring more value than anybody else). And to become valuable, you consume value. Tada!

(And if you still ain't convinced, I'll pull out the Netflix card. You'd really rather watch shows? Or binge YouTube? Than learn a new skill, or develop existing ones? Question your priorities, my friend. Victims love entertainment, victors love learning.)

Cool, you're joining in then! Not that creative binge is NOT an entertainment binge. It's a value providing binge. What you ‘consume’ has to bring you something in return— whether that's creative inspiration, motivation or skills. *Swing arms* yup! We’re one gay, productive household. Someone remind Hallie to buy the groceries though, the Cheerios are going mouldy.

By my dictionary, a creative binge is a slot of time, 1½ to 3 hours I'd say, when you watch/read/listen to some good stuff. Basically, binge content.

THE 101 OF A CREATIVE BINGE

🌿 Basics:

I conduct one every week (usually Wednesday mornings), lasting around 1½ to 2 hours.

I'll also keep a notepad and a pen nearby, to take notes and jot ideas as they come. Again, this is NOT an entertainment binge, even though it's a chill job.

Sometimes I'll get passive things done (like wiping my desk, eating breakfast and taking out textbooks) while watching. We maximize our time.

🌿 What Do I Watch:

The stuff I watch falls into 3 categories: creative/humor (for inspiration), business/skills (for skills) & motivation (for, um, motivation). Fair warning though, a lot of the stuff these folks make overlap, but that's alright. This is just a rough demarcation.

Creative/Humor: some YesTheory, maybe some MacDoesIt, sprinkle in some Ryan Higa, perhaps an episode of a show with an amazing script, some stand-up comedy from my favorites. Or maybe trash that and just watch Sherlock. (Geez, Netflix, I hate you, I love you.)

Skills: Gary Vee, some artist channels, that random video on how to thrift shop even though I don't shop.

Motivation: Be Inspired, Tom Bilyeu, Mel Robbins and random videos which look nice.

🌿 What Do I Listen To:

Oof, I love music tremendously! If you're a pal, you know it's time to RUN when I come around being like, “soo, I was wondering what's your favourite–”.

Yet, during a creative binge, I'll only listen to stuff that 1) inspires me, or 2) is creative in a way I can't explain. Some recommendations!

Hype music:

The Score

Imagine Dragons

Creative music:

Billie Eilish

Lana Del Rey

Sleeping At Last

Lorde

Conan Gray

Harry Styles

🌿 What Do I Read:

Usually the book that I'm reading at that point if I'm being lazy.

POETRY: It's my belief, but poetry is a writer's most powerful device. There's a novel to be said in a simple sonnet.

FICTION: I dig great fiction. PS, please read (and sob over) Away Childish Things, by @letteredlettered. It changed me as a person, changed my entire perspective about kids. I'm much kinder and softer now, and my pimples are gone. I'll literally never get over drarry too, so thanks lettered, love you.

ARTICLES: Bookmarked psychology, productivity & fitness articles on Medium. Maybe check out James Clear's & Gary Vee’s blog for new posts.

Because I wanna drive this home, here's what I did in my last creative binge as a concrete example —

Care to Note that:

All of the stuff I consume is pre-planned.

I add videos throughout the week to my Creative Binge playlist on YouTube, download albums from Amazon Music and articles for offline reading.

DON'T leave this to the last moment, you'll more likely pick entertainment vs learning then.

Watched–

Why I'm done trying to be "man enough"

Redecorating my room 2017 (I wanna decorate my room this year so)

How to Squat Properly (I’m trying lmao)

Giving a 9-Year-Old Her Dream Job for 24hrs!! (I stan YesTheory so much)

How To NOT Be A Starving Artist (A mood. I love Sorelle)

Couple more, I could go on & on, but you get me.

Listened–

Every song on YouTube by Bruno Major

Born to die: paradise version (album) by Lana Del Rey

Read–

Articles from James Clear's blog — (x) (x)

Articles from Gary Vee’s blog — (x) (x)

HIIT workouts for beginners

All of this birthed–

Ideas for future articles, titled: How To Be Great & Solomon Letters #2: Question Your Faith, Not Your Dreams, among others.

A small poem about faith– posted on my IG, check it out!

New content ideas, like value chains (upcoming!)

Bunch of other small rants for everyday posting

Some business and life advice that might be useful later.

Gotta say goodbye now! (literally too... but post about it coming on 12th so wait for it) Try this one out, and let me know how your binge goes (tag it with #team conquer). Mine usually end with a bucketful of philo notes, a recharged left (right? psychology? idk) brain, and a fresh perspective towards the rest of my week.

This is the #1 strategy I've adopted to sustain creative energy when it's sapped all around by negativity and school & I promise it helps. No side effects, no sponsored pills needed. Thanks for reading!

Related: How To Get Back Into The Creative Process (if you're in a blogger's block or experiencing painter's pain)

Have something to say? I treasure all feedback! If this post inspired you to do something, or you wanna throw some love/constructive criticism at me— hop into my ask box, or reply to this post itself!

Thanks for dropping by! Major articles, like this one, come out every Thursday! Join my taglist by to read them when they do. I also post daily wins, journal entries, rants & photos of my plant babies throughout the week, so follow me if you’re into conquering life. I vow to be the loudest cheerleader. ✧

Sending you love and good energy, talk soon.

Nandini 💌 (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

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