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hermannsthumb · 3 years ago

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possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

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Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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straighttohellbuddy · 4 years ago

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how the light gets in {Corpse Husband}

2. you’ve gone way too fast for way too long.

Summary: Supernatural Creatures AU. Them/Them Reader. After the success of your first stream, you find yourself wanting to get back to your YouTube roots, and what better way to do that than with a cover by one of the bands who holds a special place in your heart? And maybe you’re using it to distract yourself from thinking about how coming back to YouTube means coming back to the things - the people - you’d left behind.

Maybe it’s selfish, but Corpse kind of wishes you hadn’t come back to YouTube; honestly, if anyone else had taken the world by storm, he wouldn’t complain half as much, except it’s you and he’s still mostly convinced that you might be an angel like him... Except better. Because of course you would be a better angel, you’re talented and driven and personable and essentially everything an angel should be, and - bar the talented bit, Corpse at least knows some of his worth - you’re everything he’s pretty sure he’s not. Except it seems like everyone loves you, and he doesn’t exactly have a good enough reason to be bothered by you the way he is, so he has to act like he isn’t. Which is a lot easier said than done, when you barely say a word to him and it feels like all of his suspicions are confirmed.

A/N: 8471 words. Reader in the fic is stated to be 24. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SUPERNATURAL THE TV SERIES. me, trying to walk the line between 3rd person omniscient narrator and trying to make the narration feel like its somewhat coming from the POV character?? it’s more likely than you think! as always, i really appreciate feedback.

{ m a s t e r l i s t }

Taglist: @nanasort @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @theboywhocriedlupin @taikalinna @jaychirps @bingusmode @divine-artemis @realmejay @lovemelikepercy @balla-deer @miniritzcrackers @loraleiix @ppopty @easygoingtheatre @insanedeathwish @siriuslystupid @losvertown @janiathecat @wineandionysus @moonlightsimp @allylyew @chokingonflxwers @sicnesa @xxniksxx @mishisamess @preciousskye @yashinosakura @meleekabenjamin @whatamievendoinghere01 @lxurxn-02 @liljennyx3 @the-fusionist @benjaminka @lilysdaydreams @a-lonely-bic @letsloveimagines @melmachh @tama-chan-suneater @shio-yuki @fairywriter-oracle @easygoingtheatre @pixelbxtch @dreammoutlouddd @abysshaven @mediocrearistophanes @tsukishimawh0re @inkbyajm @jordiee95 @honkcorpse @kaiihaan @takenbyheartstrings @mrtony-stank1 @dangeroustreebread @xibrokensunriseix @corpseglider @artsyally @ellsbells2143 @machine-gun-casie @marvelsmurphy @bigmac-papi @danielle143 @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @starstruckllamapuppy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @fee-btheweeb @parkerpeanuts @fanfictionenthusiast @evans-dejong @pancakebinnie @minbunbun @sabrinarahaman @thefangirl05 @jades-bullshit @fo-love @roses-and-grasses @thirstyfangirl @lovelysmp @325575 @wrongcielo @lukathecrime @lunariasilver @delicrieux @rebloogggs @kookiesandtae7 @mizxkii @effielumiere @happyyyandcrazyyy @teenageguitarist @prettylittlealiengirl @aroyalharknessblr @kylie-writes-stuff @annshit @haunteddeputymugpersona

taglist is always open! message me if you’d like to be added xx

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The day after your song drops, it’s on Spotify’s Top 50 Viral playlist, it’s charting on iTunes, it’s splattered across the internet, according to your manager, who sees fit to text you, congratulating you on what she assumed to be a masterful marketing tactic; releasing the song and immediately streaming alongside huge YouTube creators who have a wide and diverse fanbase, all plugging your music. She thinks it was a carefully calculated move, which makes you feel all kinds of scummy, like you were using your new friends. Thankfully, when you fire a somewhat defensive response about how you had no ulterior motive, that all you wanted to do was have fun and make friends, your tone apparently reads loud and clear, as you receive an apology a few moments later. Backtracking, she simply mentions that, even unintentionally, you had great timing, and she’s glad you had a good time, which is better, and you try not to dwell on your initial assumption. Years of your life had been spent worrying that the people you were close to just thought you were using them for views or fame; her words did little to quell that worry, so instead you tried to distract yourself, or at the very least, focus on the good that yesterday had brought about.

The best, of course, was Sykkuno, the hellhound who’d endeared himself to you almost immediately. Something about him makes you feel safe, though perhaps it’s that you’re unused to someone feeling so familiar; you like to think you’re a good judge of character, so for now, you’re trusting in your instincts, trusting in Sykkuno. The next best thing was a tie, between friends and freedom. Yesterday you’d been doing what you wanted to do, not what you thought you should be doing, not what was on brand, or carefully scripted; you were messy, stumbled over your words, and you laughed and deceived your friends as was the aim of the game, it was so freeing to be unfiltered. People kept saying it was nice to see you smile, to hear you laugh again. Huh. Part of you really doesn’t like that you know exactly what they mean, and more importantly, why people are saying that at all. But things are different now, are freer now; your brand was built on you, it’s nice to get back to that.

By mid-morning, you’d been sprawled out on your sofa for almost an hour, glad to be alone, to not have to worry about being seen, as you’ve phased your tail back into reality, and have it holding up your phone as you scroll through Twitter with one hand and fidget idly with the other. More and more you’re seeing supportive comments from people gushing about the few bars you’d sung of 5 Seconds of Summer’s Youngblood on stream yesterday. First your chat had loved it, now it seems the general consensus was that people would love for you to cover more than a few bars. While you tried not to listen too much to what other people wanted, you couldn’t help but admit that it was something you definitely wanted too.

When you text your manager, new idea already taking hold of your focus, your earlier unsavoury text conversation seemingly forgotten, your manager reminds you that you should be working on your new album, putting together the tracklist for your EP. Ugh.

It’s not that you didn’t have ideas, quite the opposite; you’re exploding with ideas, brimming, overflowing with them, for songs you wants to write and feelings you can’t express any other way, but the songs and collaborations you’ve already completed, their mp4 files sitting neatly on your desktop, you wanted to save them for the full album, like it was some sort of penance for getting to collaborate, getting to become friends with people you looked up to, people who inspired you. To you, their contribution was worthy of your full album.

Well, that was part of the reason, the other part was that the songs you had designated for the album had a different vibe to your EP songs; albumtouralbumtour and imposter syndrome had both been written in lockdown, about very specific concerns you were having at the time. The EP was shaping up to capture a very specific moment in time, while the album was so much more than that. You couldn’t put read at five am on the EP, the collaboration you’d done with Troye, a lyrical-lament with a dissonant, upbeat melody, an apology for when you’re the one who cuts off contact with someone you’re close to and don’t know how to say why, and don’t know how to come back; yes, the fact that you and Ethan are talking again means that the song is technically relevant to this period of time, but it’s three years of regret and indirect apology compressed into in three minutes. It’s going on the album.

But being stuck at home all day for months had made you all nostalgic for your roots, for when you’d started uploading all the way back in 2012, at 16, with no idea what a few videos would lead to. You missed covering songs you loved, the songs other people had written and that you had still connected with, the songs that made you want to write your own. Yes, you loved your own content, obviously, but from idea to video publishing, you knew a low-effort cover would take you maximum a day and a half if you were particularly inspired, which you clearly were. By now, you’d been doing this for so long that you knew the legality of it all like the back of your hand, and were in a stable enough place to be more than happy to pay royalties to the band you’d co-headlined alongside for your first international tour.

“What if I call the boys and ask them?” You decided to just call your manager directly, tail curled securely around your phone where you’d put her on speaker, pottering around your kitchen trying to find something to eat. Alison, on the other end of the line, sighed deeply, having been fielding these sorts of calls from you about once a fortnight since lockdown had started.

“Have you finished moment before impact yet?” She countered, and you wrinkle your nose; its as if she can hear the expression through the phone with the way she continues on, not giving you a moment to cut in, “listen, I won’t tell you what to do, but you need to make a decision about your EP tracklist soon, okay? The label’s breathing down my neck, you know you have more than enough songs for it.”

“Alison, the vibes -”

“The vibes, Y/N, I know,” she sighed deeply, but you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.

“I promise I’m working on my own stuff; I think moment before impact is gonna be a collab, but I’m not sure who with yet, but if it makes you happy, once I record this 5SOS thing, I’ll work on a demo of moment for the EP,” you concede, and you hear her hum in approval, “I promise I have all the songs in my head, I just gotta make sense of which ones are the right ones for now, you know?”

“I really don’t,” you could hear her actually smiling now, so you let yourself relax for a moment, hands braced on your kitchen counter as you looked to your phone, “but I suppose that’s why you’re the musical one and I’m the manager.”

“My favourite manager,” you told her sweetly, and her answering laugh is more of a snort.

"Call the band, maybe they can work something out for you regarding royalties, if you plan to monetise it," she suggested, and you hummed, "keep me updated, okay? Make sure you're still working on your own stuff though."

"Alison you're a national treasure," you tell her feelingly; you don't even have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes.

But you take her advice, sending 'what if I covered Youngblood and posted it to YT? I'll pay you royalties' to the mostly dormant WhatsApp group you have with 5 Seconds of Summer, despite it being about six in the morning in Australia. Callum sends back a thumbs up almost immediately. Its all the confirmation you need to get started.

As you’re hunting through your house for a pick, turning over cushions, looking through junk drawers, you hear your phone go off, and you take a moment to check, surprised by what you see. A message from Sean. Huh.

[I see you’ve finally decided to join us in the gaming community, took you long enough 😊 If you ever wanna play something, just gimme a yell, you know Id be glad to have ya on my team.]

Considering the fact that it had been three years since you and Sean had properly been in contact, you find the message both surprising, and strangely heartwarming. There were a few people you’d purposefully fallen out of contact with, plagued by your own fears and self doubts. The people who you’d seen in person almost daily were the ones who you’d felt the absence of the most, but Sean, just by his close association with those people, along with a few other international friends, had been regretfully left behind also. Here and now, you can feel just how much you’ve missed him, how guilty you feel for giving in to your own anxieties and the negativity spewed by others.

But you know you can’t dwell on the past, on your mistakes, all you can do is be grateful for the opportunity to reconnect, and take it.

[ID: A tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter and @goldeny/n, followed by a single tweet by @ZeRoyalViking, and a tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter, and @5SOS.

@yourtwitter: someone yell at me for doing another cover instead of my original stuff. quarantine got me feeling 17 again. might do the cinnamon challenge next. or finally do that Roast Yourself trend 4 years too late. | @golden_y/n: BRUH YOU BEST NOT BE PULLING OUR LEGS | @golden_y/n: I would empty my bank account to see you roast yourself. | @yourtwitter: Please Don't Do That YouTube Is Free | @golden_y/n: 😳💀💖

@ZeRoyalViking: stream today with some familiar and not so familiar faces!!

@yourtwitter posted an image of Griffin McElroy from the My Brother My Brother & Me TV show. Griffin is a Caucasian man wearing glasses and a blue checked shirt. He is visible from the chest up and is sitting behind a desk with one arm in front of him, with his thumb out, as if counting. The image’s subtitles have been edited, now reading ‘My friends are very much into the following: Bullying me on TikTok.’ | @yourtwitter: @luke5SOS is just mad im gonna sing his song better than him. he doesn’t use twitter anymore so i have the upper hand here. | @5SOS replies with a gif of Jason Momoa, who is incredibly muscular, with dark hair down to his shoulders, a black tank top, and sunglasses on, holding a microphone, standing in a confrontational manner, captioned ‘No, no, no. By all means, speak your mind. You got a problem with my boy?’ | @yourtwitter: HE WENT LIVE UNPROMPTED TO TELL PEOPLE ABOUT HOW I WROTE NOTIMETOSLEEP IN THREE DAYS WITH NO ACTUAL SLEEP, OPENED FOR THEM IN ARIZONA, AND IMMEDIATELY PASSED OUT FOR 16 HOURS AFTER WALKING OFF STAGE | @5SOS: we just miss you tho... and it is kind of funny. | @yourtwitter: the minute im allowed to safely leave lockdown im coming to australia to german supplex the lot of you. ❤️

End ID.]

Corpse’s whole ‘not thinking about you’ plan goes down a lot smoother when you’re not actively stealing his friends- what kind of Angel goes around stealing another person - another Angel’s, no less - friends?! Except, right, he doesn't actually have proof that you're an angel, just a hunch he’s apparently committed to... and, okay, you don't know you're stealing them... Sykkuno and Rae are allowed to have more than one friend. Obviously.

"Honestly, I'm still kind of riding the high from yesterday's stream," Sykkuno’s all kinds of elated in the voice chat, and Rae's quick to chime in, matching his tone, his energy, as she agrees.

"I cannot believe Y/N played with us! I’m sorry you missed it, Corpse, I think you'd love them," Rae is adamant, to which Corpse, from behind the safety of his monitor, makes a face.

"What makes you say that?” Even as he says it, as he tries to keep the negativity from his voice, his nose wrinkles, the expression shifting his eyepatch just a little.

“I don’t know, just something about...” Rae’s voice turns thoughtful as she considers, though Sykkuno takes the chance to pipe up, voice brimming with his trademark sincerity.

“You guys have weirdly similar vibes, like kind of a similar energy?” He tries to explain before a faintly embarrassed laugh escaping him, even with Rae humming in agreement, “not the exact same, obviously, but like, I don’t know, I think you’d really like them.” The problem with having Sykkuno for a friend is that he’s almost always trying to be genuinely kind or helpful. The problem is that Corpse can tell he believes what he’s saying.

An angelic ability that often goes overlooked, even by angels themselves, is the innate ability to tell whether or not someone’s lying. It’s like a faint buzzing, low grade tinnitus, at the sound of a lie, something that can actually be pretty effectively ignored and forgotten, but right now, the lack of buzzing with Sykkuno’s words is frankly irritating. Not that Corpse can say that, he has no real reason to be jealous of your fast forming friendships with his friends, well, not any reason he can admit to on stream.

"You know what,” Sean muses, finally joining the conversation, “It’s been a while since I properly spoke to them, but I totally get what you mean,” fucking great; of course he agrees, “did anyone invite them to play; would love to have them here if they’re up for it.”

"I think they're working on a thing today, but I can message and ask?" It’s Sykkuno who speaks up, the barest hesitation in his voice, and to that Rae makes a proud little noise in the back of her throat.

"You met yesterday on the stream that I organised, and suddenly you're all best buddies? Gonna be honest, I’m a little jealous,” she admits, to which Sykkuno huffs a soft laugh, uncertain of what to say, though Rae’s tone is fond and she continues on, “seriously though, good for you, dude, finally getting the recognition you deserve -"

And on the one hand, yes, Corpse would agree that Sykkuno deserved infinitely more recognition and praise than he currently received, but on the other, the speed at which you two had aparently become close - a day! It had been a day! - sets Corpse’s teeth on edge. It was all he could do to keep quiet as the others chimed in, all their sentiments mirroring Rae’s.

All this frustration and resentment was almost definitely unhealthy, he was more than aware, but something about you had fixed in his mind; if it had been anyone else, anyone less talented or personable or productive, he could have probably handled it, but you...

All he gets is two games worth of peace before Sykkuno announces that he’s gotten a reply. Aparently you’re in the middle of recording a cover. Something about knowing that fills Corpse with discomfort, with envy, like he should be working on his music instead of being here.

"But they say they're gonna take a break in an hour or say, so they might join us for a few games," Sykkuno’s tone betrayed his bright smile, and suddenly the voice chat was flooded with excitement from almost all in attendance.

"Wait, really? Just like that, we'll be playing with Y/N?" Leslie sounds disbelievingly hopeful, but thankfully it’s only a few moments until the next game beings. While none of the others had picked up on Corpse’s silence, his chat seemed confused. Purposefully ignoring their questions and comments on the matter, he instead gives a few comments on the game, trying to come off lighter than he was feeling.

He’s not quite sure what he’s going to do if you join the stream, he’d never actually considered that he might one day talk to you, have to confront the person whose very existence got under his skin, who might very well be the only other person like him on this side of the world. Unsurprisingly, his head’s not in the game.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?” Rae feels the need to ask when whatever response he’d given in a meeting had just come out as an incoherent mumble. Of course he straight up laughs at her question, which is answer enough, and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, “you’re impossible.”

“Have you drunk any water today -?”

“Sykkuno you’re dead,” Sean interrupts Sykkuno, who had broken one of the main rules of the game simply to question Corpse about his health; he’s far too caring for his own good, but moments like this make for good entertainment, “dead people can’t talk,” Corpse is grateful for all of five seconds before Sean turns on him, reiterating Sykkuno’s question like a traitor; “Corpse, have you drunk water today?” In lieu of a proper response, Corpse groans, playing at being annoyed.

“I say we vote him out because if he is the imposter, we win, and if he isn’t, he has time to go drink a glass of water,” Rae proposes matter-of-factly, which just leaves Corpse spluttering with disbelief.

“That’s fucking stupid; I’m not the imposter, you’re basically throwing the game -” but the votes are already popping up, and unfortunately, for the first time all stream, everyone seems to be in agreement.

“Drink water, Corpse,” Rae, clearly the leader of this mutiny, orders, as Corpse watches his character get flung into lava, and very begrudgingly heeds her words. He takes his sweet time drinking a full glass of water and refilling it to take back with him, intermittently glaring from his kitchen at his computer, despite the game still going on; he’s got several tasks left, if they don’t catch the imposters, they’re doomed, and honestly he doesn’t care. Once the game ends, with the crewmates’ loss, as he’d suspected, they all find themselves back in the lobby. Maybe they’re waiting for him. They can wait longer.

As he settles himself back into his office chair, he pulls on his headphones in time to hear -

“- earlier than I thought because of a whole thing on TikTok and then Twitter, and then my manager texted me telling me-” It’s like he’s turned twenty again at the sound of your voice; you, bright, earnest, rambling to probably Sykkuno or Sean or Rae, probably not even aware of him, but he’s never been more aware of you. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but your second EP, hyperfocus, had been in heavy rotation on his Spotify since he’d discovered it, since he’d listened to the crack in your voice, the exhaustion with which you spoke on i’m going through some stuff when Lofi had just been taking off as a genre. He’s... conflicted, going through an internal crisis while you keep talking, blissfully unaware, “- anyways, I think she’s just worried that I’ll end up threatening to German Supplex Harry Styles, or the late, great, Prince, and I’ll end up cancelled.”

“Y/N,” your name sounds equal parts amused and concerned as Sykkuno says it, with the air of someone who’s been privy to you and your antics far longer than just one day. The response you give is just as bright and cheery as your rambling had been, assuring him that you wouldn’t threaten to German Supplex Prince.

“You sure about that?” Sean was obviously grinning, judging by his fond tone, “sounds like something you’d try -”

“I’ve changed, Jack- Sean- fuck,” your muttered swear undercuts your attempt at earnestness after you correct yourself, clearly not used to calling him by his actual name. To that, Sean gives a fond chuckle, before going right back to ribbing you.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still video evidence of you trying to square up with Mark in person,” Sean points out, to which you grow huffy and defensive, playing up your frustration.

“Well, that was for a completely reasonable reason!”

“Which was?”

“I thought it would be funny,” tone flipping completely, the words come out so sincere and bright it’s almost tooth rotting; if he didn’t know any better, Corpse would probably find himself being endeared by it, “and it was! Plus,” though here you give pause, and something about the tone of the conversation shifts as you chew on the words you’d almost said without thinking, “it was funny,” you said, softer this time. Sean, sensing the shift, does his best to pick the mood back up, reminding you that both you and Mark lost the competition you’d been taking part in anyways, and asking if you really had changed.

Before you had time to answer, however, Rae spots Corpse’s avatar moving ever so slightly, and immediately jumps on him.

“Corpse! Did you drink water?” She asks. He unmutes so they can all hear his deep, beleaguered sigh. “I can and will bully you into taking care of yourself,” her heart’s in the right place, and it is mostly a bit, so he can’t be too put out by the fact that she cares.

“I can’t believe you all voted me out because of it,” he chooses to respond instead, and Rae’s cackle echoes through the voice call.

“She also was the imposter, so...” Ze trailed off, a little sheepishly, to which Corpse rolled his eyes, not that anyone can see. Of course she was. But he’s not even given a moments before -

“You must be Corpse!” The moment the words leave your lips, every single goddamn nerve in Corpse’s body feels like it’s alight; everything overwhelming, unfamiliar,. white-hot, he’s suddenly desperately trying to keep his various abilities in check, since he really doesn’t want to short out his whole system, end the stream early, and probably cause his building to go into a blackout, just because of whatever this is. The whole world has changed with four words; better and worse and more more than anything. It’s... it’s a confirmation of some kind, and he tries to hold onto that vindictive feeling in his chest. You are familiar, you are something he recognises like no-one else he’s ever met before; you are like him. Is it better or worse now he knows it’s the truth?

“Must I be?” He manages to respond, keeping his voice as level as he’s able, shooting for vaguely amused and trying not to let any of the past few seconds sudden overwhelming panic and triumph bleed into his voice. But the moment you hear him, there’s a sharp gasp; that same something, understanding, recognition he’d felt, you feel it too.

“Y/N, you okay?” Ze had asked, and you made a vaguely muffled noise of unconvincing confirmation. Out of sheer, idle curiosity, Corpse opened a new tab and searched up your YouTube channel where you were streaming.

“Maybe we should have warned ya’,” Sean offers with a light laugh, before lowering his voice, immitating and announcer as best as he could, “warning! Corpse is about to speak!” Which at the very least got Corpse to laugh, though he refused to give anything away as your stream loaded, and the banter continued in his ears.

“Har har,” you muttered sarcastically into the voice chat, right as the stream finished loading, and - you. Well dressed, face in your hands, heels of your palms pressed against your closed eyes; honestly, he doesn’t exactly have any prominent initial thoughts about you, watching you scrunch your face up in your hands, dealing with the same thing he had to, though your face was live to thousands. Beside you, the text chat for your stream was going almost too fast to read, but he managed to follow a few threads of thought here and there.

[an eye thing! they’ve got an eye thing!] [someone @ y/n_creature_spec on twt!!] [who has an eye thing??] [lmao love that they were so shocked hearing corpse that it set off their eye thing] [hello!! vampire here!! we have eye things!!] [u cant be a vampire it’s the middle of the day] [THERE ARE COUNTRIES OTHER THAN AMERICA YOU KNOW] [i am willing to put MONEY on the idea of them being fae of some kind.] [^^yeah they just didnt want us to see their eyes sparkling like an anime character.] [that feels like smthn corpse could bring out in people]

And then you’re blinking back to reality, bringing him from his thoughts as for one terrifying moment, it’s as if his gaze locks with yours. Expression so bright and inviting, despite the way your eyes were watering just a little, you hold eye contact with your camera for a moment before looking at your screen, mumbling something about an eyelash in your eye; Corpse lets out a shaky breath. Chat seems unconvinced, but at least the other streams take you on your word. For a few more moments, he quietly watches you, watches the way your eyes roam your screen as you order your thoughts, and for all that he’s thought of you, he’s never properly looked at you. It’s taken him until now to acknowledge that there was definitely a reason for your success beyond just your talent; certainly you could have become successful from your music alone, but your career certainly wasn’t hindered by the fact that you’re actually quite- suddenly, Corpse is overcome by the sense that he’s intruding, exiting out of the window immediately, even going so far as to push back from his desk, fingers spread wide, braced against the edge, trying not to think too hard about... any of it. If he thought too hard about what it meant to have another angel in LA, he would drive himself mad.

“Well, Corpse, it’s good to meet ya, been told great things,” to him and him alone it’s so clear you’re trying so hard to play it cool, though Corpse couldn’t fault you for that, doing the exact same thing; again, when you speak to him, it’s like his whole being is hit with a rush of warmth; it’s less overwhelming this time, somehow scalding but bearable now.

“I see Sykkuno’s been spreading lies about me,” Corpse fires off instinctually, to which Sykkuno splutters protests at the implication, despite your bright laughter, and Sean’s shout to the contrary.

“Don’t be mean, Corpse, Sykkuno would never lie about you,” Sean is adamant, and Corpse can tell he’s being honest, just as the tell-tale ringing in his ears knows the next words from Sean’s mouth are utter lies; “me on the other hand? Y/N whatever you do, do not listen to Corpse’s music, it’s just the worst.” Before the implication, the reality of what he’s saying sinks in, for just a moment, Corpse feels a rush of affection for Sean, so clearly and earnestly plugging his music, right before your voice re-joins the chat and Corpse remembers exactly who Sean is plugging his music to.

“Fuck you, J- Sean, I do what I want,” while you played along, amused and light, Corpse himself was at a loss for words. You ask him - him specifically, he knows, he knows with absolute certainty you’re asking him - if he’s a musician, and everyone else chimes in before he can even think about finding his voice.

“Don’t search him on Spotify! Don’t do it!” Sean, on the verge of laughter, seems delighted by the turn this conversation has taken as the sound of aggressive typing fills the chat from your end. What the fuck. What the fuck?! No matter his thoughts and opinions about you and your possible supernatural origins, you were still Y/N, literal Grammy winner and Golden Child from the Golden Age of YouTube, playing along as Sean used the world’s worst reverse psychology on you to get you to listen to his music. Oh fuck, this is not how today was meant to go.

“I don’t wanna hold up the game, I’ll listen as I play,” you tell them, almost painfully polite, though Ze agrees to start the next game. If Corpse’s mind wasn’t in the game before, there’s no way in hell it was now.

Three minutes into the first round and he’s failing miserably at card swipe when he chances a look at his chat; people were spamming lyrics from Miss YOU! and Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life! which was sweet but nerve wracking, since he’s pretty sure it means you’ve already listened to one and moved on to the next. If you’re an angel, and you know he’s an angel, what in the hell would you think of his music? Honestly, even if you weren’t an angel, you’re still you, and his music was... well...

When the first meeting is called, and it’s discovered that you’ve been murdered, there’s a strange sense of relief that comes with it, even as he’s being accused of your murder. He’s got a solid alibi, so they end up voting out Sean, and the game continues. Despite the brief reprieve from your possible judgement, his heart still feels as though it’s skittering erratically around his ribcage.

Rae comes along when he’s doing Simon Says, and shoots his little avatar. The moment he becomes a ghost, he lets out a long breath, giving himself a moment to relax, to collect his thoughts, catching back up with some questions with chat he hadn’t quite realised he’d been holding, and chances a look at his chat again.

“Of course I’m tense,” he finds himself musing quietly to his chat while the remaining players were arguing over the top of each other in a meeting, “pretty sure most of hyperfocus has been in my Spotify wrapped every year since it was released,” for a few moments, it doesn’t even occur to him what he’s said, or that he’s said it out loud, but when it hits him- oh, oh no, it feels like too much to admit, and he has no idea what to say next, how to backtrack, how to at least pretend like he doesn’t think about you or your music any more than any other person would. However much he may resent certain aspects of it, he still knows he has a reputation to uphold, and panic and denial have never been a part of his reputation.

So he keeps his mouth shut, bites down on the half-hearted excuses and explanations that keep springing to mind, keep pressing against his teeth. He does his tasks quietly, thanks the people donating, and pretend it never happened until the round ends, heart in his throat. He knows, the same way a human survivor in a zombie apocalypse movie knows, that he’s just putting off the inevitable, and that someone’s definitely already clipped it and is probably uploading it to Twitter or Tumblr faster than he could protest.

“Y/N I’m so sorry!” Sean’s the first one to talk when they’re back in the lobby, which leads to your laughter filling the voice chat, telling him it’s okay.

“I didn’t even care, honestly I was just vibing,” the smile in your voice is almost enough to distract from the strained edge to your words, something not quite right, but so faint Corpse isn’t sure if it was really there, and he’s not quite sure anyone else heard it either. Except -

“Y/N?” Sykkuno says your name like it means something that no-one but you and him can decipher, something concerned, almost a question, checking in without being too obvious.

“Yeah?” There’s that strained tone, just a little more audible this time, before you process who’s talking, how he’d said your name, and - “yeah,” firmer, calmer, a reassurance.

“Vibing?” And he says it like that was his question all along, like the two of you hadn’t had a full conversation in three words. When the others started asking about what you thought of the music, it’s clear none of them have picked up on the hint of strangeness that had been in your tone, and you deliberate before answering.

“Am I- is it- it’s weird if I quote it, isn’t it -?”

“Jacksepdicy how I whip that!” Sean practically yells into his microphone, cutting you off and somehow making the line sounding even more Irish than he himself did naturally, which startles a laugh from Corpse, “it’s my name in a song, I think about it daily,” he announces, voice oozing pride, and despite the situation and headspace he found himself in, Corpse feels his heart grow warm knowing that even a line like that had brought Sean joy.

“I thought,” you pause for a moment, presumably to double check which song you were about to reference, “I thought Miss YOU was a whole mood,” you admit, the faintest smile in your voice, and something tightens in Corpse’s chest at that.

“You not gonna quote it?” Rae teased.

“Too nervous to follow Sean,” you fired back.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there one day, Y/N,” Sean laughs fondly, and you all joke around, playing up the bit, while Corpse’s mind is stuck on the fact that you never once addressed him when talking about his music. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it meant he didn’t have to deal with the sudden, fiery sensation your voice brought with it, so not bothered, persay, if anything he’s glad to know you liked it... But it’s weird that he knows so acutely -

“Hey,” and you don’t even say his name, but there’s that feeling again. Each time it grows less intense, like he’s been inoculated, and no instead of his nerves being ablaze, it’s as if he’s suddenly sitting beside a bonfire, each and every time you speak to him. The others voice their confusion at your sudden vaguness, but Corpse answers without even thinking, because of course he knows.

“Yeah?”

A few moments pass, while the others carry on amongst themselves for the moment. The two of you sit in this one moment together, neither quite sure how to feel about it.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you point out, though there was only the barest him of the earlier strangeness in your voice, now overpowered by something that made it almost sound like you were pleased. At this, however, even more confusion arises when the others figure out that Corpse had ‘guessed’ correctly, that you’d been talking to him. But he can’t really hear them, or, well, he finds himself tuning them out, swallowing hard before he pushes to talk.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” He asked, trying to ignore the weirdness of it all, keeping his tone light.

“I’m just surprised; it’s your music after all.”

“You like hearing my voice?” Despite the surprisingly cocky way with which he speaks, he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, wincing internally. Of all the people he could have said that to...

“I never said that,” and though your own tone matched his, something teasing, something that could almost be misconstrued as flirty in the right circumstances, he’d heard the faint thread of discomfort, feeling it all too much himself. But your words, and thankfully your tone, was overshadowed by both Sykkuno and Sean jumping in to assure Corpse that they enjoyed hearing his voice.

“If you and Y/N ever collaborated, you know it’d break the internet, right?” Rae interjects, all kinds of smug and knowing, followed by a chorus of approving voices all broke out in unison as the rest of the lobby considered the possibility.

“Rae, you know our Twitter mentions are going to be going off for the next month now, don’t you?” You groaned.

“Maybe it’s a sign!” Rae exclaimed, delighted, before her tone turns teasing and fond, “and besides, aren’t your mentions always going off?”

[ID: The first four posts on Y/N’s Tumblr dashboard.

blueheart-anon hearing y/n and sean interact again after like 3 years unlocked memories like im a fucking sleeper agent. having war flashbacks to 2017′s ‘y/n is septiplier’s kid’ phase. how do i lock the memories up again im going to die of embarrassment why were we like that [tagged: #y/n #y/n y/l/n #jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin #i WILL NOT add the ship tag i mentioned #blue talks] [7 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

fangloriousbastard ↪️fangloriousbastard fangloriousbastard Rae: Y/N & Corpse Collab When? Y/N: 🔪 - fangloriousbastard Y/N IMMEDIATELY MURDERING RAE AND THEN CORPSE I- - fangloriousbastard Y/N MUTTERING THE JACKSEPDICY LYRIC WHILE MURDERING HIM WTF IS HAPPENING?? - fangloriousbastard SYKKUNO NO BBY IM SO WORRIED - fangloriousbastard Y/N IM BEGGING U TO STOP SAYING CORPSE LYRICS BEFORE U KILL UR FRIENDS - fangloriousbastard WAIT WHAT Y/N AND SYKKUNO BOTH VOTING FOR THEMSELVES INSTEAD OF EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard “ride or die guess im gonna die” y/N PLEASE U MET HIM YESTERDAY - fangloriousbastard y/n’s still listening to corpse’s music we love to see it - fangloriousbastard WAIT NO ZE KILLED SYKKUNO IN FRONT OF THEM AND THEY WON OMG SO MUCH IS HAPPENING DID THESE MOTHERFUCKERS QUOTE AN ACTUAL THE OFFICE MEME AT EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard Y/N: YOU KILLED MY BOY Ze: you’ve known him A Day! Y/N: you don’t have all the facts Ze: which are? Y/N: I love him. Y/N: Not in a weird, shippy way tho, but like, come on, man, look at him! Sykkuno’s avatar: 🌱 👁👄👁 Sykkuno irl: 🥰 - fangloriousbastard ahem anyways corpse & y/n collab when? - y/n 🔪❤️ - fangloriousbastard 👁👄👁 - fangloriousbastard aren’t you supposed to be streaming?? [tagged: #HEWWO??? #among us lb #why do i only remember they’re following me when i post outrageously stupid content #btw y/n if u kill sean again i’ll cry] [43 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

fyahproof-y/n ↪️ selkiey/n selkiey/n y/n’s explicit ‘i love him but not in a weird shippy way’ is the LOUDEST fandom vague i’ve ever heard in my life [286 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

crpshsbnd ↪️ 221b-theres-a-bee crpshsbnd hope corpse is feeling okay he’s been kinda quiet this stream - 221b-theres-a-bee if someone suggested i make music with a grammy award winning artist i might be kind of quiet too - crpshsbnd asjdskldfjkdsf u right, still, hope that’s the reason. [tagged: #how do i always forget they won a grammy #actually i know why i keep forgetting #because every time i remember they won a grammy i remember the video where they jousted corndogs with joe sugg #and the winner had to deepthroat theirs for the camera #and y/n won but felt like an asshole for making joe deepthroat his corndog alone #and they ended up almost throwing up because they went too far with it #so hot #so talented #so very stupid sometimes] [3 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

Twitter is kind of a hellscape, Corpse decides, scrolling through his notifications as the stream’s winding down, seeing about a thousand different people tagging both you and him, asking for a collab, or seeing fit to show you both every single time one of you had mentioned the other in stream. Or had simply interacted. He’s not quite sure how to feel about hearing you mutter ‘make it rain, leave her wet, like a snowflake’. Unsurprisingly, a considerable few people had thought to clip the interaction where he’d apparently instinctively known you were talking to him, which he thoroughly regrets. There’s enough speculation about him online already, he doesn’t need people cluing into the fact that he might not be entirely human as well.

So now, he’s sitting idle in the lobby of the game as everyone’s thanking each other, discussing when they might get together to stream again; he’s quiet, disconnected from it all even though he knows he’s still live, he can’t help but stare at his phone, frown at your Twitter profile. You’re not following each other. A lot of his friends follow you, are mutuals with you, but you and he are not following each other, and he’s not sure if he’d like to change that. But it would make sense, right? It’s what’s expected.

Your pinned tweet is the single you released yesterday, which he still hasn’t listened to. The cover is cute; you’re - fuck. He refreshes the page. In the few moments since he’d clicked on your profile and now, you’d tweeted, thanking everyone for joining the stream, while you’re still in his ear, alongside everyone else, distinctly not addressing him. Maybe he should DM you, be upfront, ask about what you are, if his suspicions are true.

He hits the back button and goes back to scrolling through his mentions.

“Hey.” Your voice, soft and earnest despite that warmth that crackles through him; he’s half distracted, hand moving instinctively to push-to-talk, and -

“Yeah?” God fucking damn it. Not again. He’s really gotta stop answering on instinct just because he knows you’re talking to him. He hates that he knows.

“Good to meet you, Corpse,” and there was a strange sincerity in your voice, and he responds in kind, but his heart’s not in it. There’s too much on his mind, too conflicted in his heart to tell the truth; his own words makes his ears ring. He can’t even lie to himself.

So he says his goodbyes, waits for the lobby to clear out and chatters away to his stream about when he might be on next. Upon ending the stream, he immediately opens the latest email from his producer, his latest project glaring back at him from the screen.

Yes, his various ailments have his body aching, but the interactions he’s had with you are giving him a headache when he thinks too hard about them, and he feels woefully unproductive. Never Satisfied stares back at him, so close to being finished, mocking him. Scowling harder, he listens to what he has so far, making tweaks and notes, glad for the distraction, glad that his producer had as chaotic of a sleep schedule as he did. This was the home stretch; one more all-nighter and it would finally be done.

He texts Heartful that he’s getting to work.

It’s four in the morning when he finally stops for a break, his good eye starting to itch from staring at a screen for so long. With a yawn, he leans forward, out of his chair, groaning as he straightens up to a mostly standing position. Hands braced against the edge of his desk, he lets out a resigned sigh and wills his wings into existence. The weight of them curled up tight against his back, as was customary for them to be when non-corporeal, has him leaning a little further forward. Another yawn and he lets them uncurl, lets them stretch out behind him, knocking over an empty microphone stand as they went. He’d get that later. A grateful groan escapes him, it’s been far too long since he’d even had a half-assed stretch like this, wings helping to stretch all the aching muscles in his back that were simply impossible to stretch otherwise, no matter how much he’d twist. Even so, his studio wasn’t big enough to properly stretch them, and he really didn’t feel like laying on his living room floor right now; he’s kind of concerned he’d just fall asleep there. Instead, he kicks his chair to the side and hits shuffle on one of his Spotify playlists, doing what he can for himself in the limited space, and finally going to forage through his cupboards for something resembling a meal. Maybe drink water, Rae’s damn voice in his head.

At least with his wings around he didn’t need to bother turning on any lights; he’s gotta find joy in the little things.

Today, or well, the past twenty-four hours, was a series of cruel jokes, he decides, all leading to the moment he curls up his wings and sits back down at his desk. The moment he puts his headphones back on, he’s greeted by your voice, and he almost jumps a foot in the air, concerned that you’d called him.

"- who I became, dreading when the music stops, what if I just fade away?” In the split second he’s realised that it was just a song, just your voice, crooning, gentle and sad against a soft beat and the sound of rain, as i’m going through some stuff playing in his ears, it’s too late. Already his aura had gone off, and his computer cuts out, as his monitor cuts to darkness, so suddenly all he can see is his own, exhausted reflection in the monitor, backlit by his own wings... Not exactly flattering.

Thankfully, it was only his computer that was affected, as he can still hear his refrigerator humming in the other room, so he wedges himself beneath his desk to reset the breaker for the power board that his whole system was connected to, grumbling to himself the whole time.

If he was being honest, however, he was glad he didn’t have to hear more than a few seconds of your song. For a long time it had been one of his favourites, though at this point he’d rather die than admit that. Yes, it’s a good song, but it’s the last thing he needs to hear right now. If he listened to you voice half the fears he still tried to ignore, well right now it may kill him, and he was so close to being finished with Never Satisfied. So close.

Instead, he gives himself the moment in which his system is rebooting to scroll through Twitter and Instagram on his phone, checking his mentions for good fanart to appreciate, only to stumble across one of your stan accounts tagging both you and him in a clip that he hadn’t seen earlier. He’s not sure what possesses him to click it.

“Don’t follow me baby, swear I’m going to hell,” Corpse’s own words leave your lips as you’re focused on the game, on being imposter, leading Sykkuno into electrical to fix lights, and something about it sounds wrong and he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’d heard other lines of his leave your mouth, clips from the stream he’d been tagged in, and it always manages to surprise him. When you sing his songs, even just a little bit, something in the back of his mind, something that had appreciated you as an artist all this time, it’s grateful, it’s excited, it’s overwhelmed. He wouldn’t deny that part of himself, he couldn’t, it didn’t feel right, but upon hearing this line, that grateful part was overshadowed by a visceral bitterness.

The line had been a moment of self deprecation, the only Angel he knew of who, granted it was by some of his own choices, was almost certainly going to Hell, if you believe in that sort of thing of course. But you? Every single part of you seemed to be the exact antithesis to him; you’re what an Angel should be, and him? Well, the line said it all really. It’s just... it feels like you’re mocking him at every turn now that he knows, or well, strongly suspects. With evidence. Which you’re probably not; if you’re an Angel, you wouldn’t go out of your way to mock another angel, so now he’s all in his head, frustrated at himself for being frustrated at you for just... liking his song?

He really should message you about earlier, clear things up, get out of his own mind and stop jumping to conclusions. Finding another angel was big, no matter his personal reservations, he should try and take this opportunity, right? Except that you hadn’t reached out to him either.

Damn it; he knows he needs to stop thinking about you and focus on his own shit. He turns off his phone and gently tosses it to the floor, out of sight out of mind.

Maybe he’ll feel better when he finishes his song, feel more productive, feel... complete for just a few moments. Maybe he’d stop comparing himself to you. Maybe.

[ID: Two tweets, one from @sp00kybihh, and one from @yourtwitter, followed by a retweet and reply conversation between @ashton5sos, @yourtwitter, and @y/nirwin.

@sp00kybihh: why did y/n’s smile every time corpse just knew they were talking to him without them having to say anythign make me feel things?? u no we love day 1 ride-or-die y/nkunno, but corpse & y/n just seem to get each other wtf 🥺🥺

@yourtwitter: australians are asleep post forbidden youngblood cover

(Thumbnail of Y/N sitting in front of the camera, dressed casually, visible from the chest up. There is a black microphone on a stand in front of them that they’re holding. Their mouth is open, as if halfway through singing, their eyes are closed, their background is a simple, white wall. Above Y/N, in black, VCR font, is the word ‘youngblood’. There is a large play button in blue and white in the middle of the thumbnail, to indicate that it is a link to a video.

Link: youngblood - 5 seconds of summer | y/n y/l/n cover i miss my boys. i miss people. thank you 5sos for being cool about me covering this <3</i> twitter: @yourtwitter 🔗youtube.com)

@ashton5sos retweeted the link and commented: Y/N you said it was gonna be low effort, this is killer! All it’s missing is some drums. Reminds me, I’m still sad we never got to record that thing we wrote in New York. | @yourtwitter: ASHTON IT IS 8AM I HAVE HAD NO SLEEP AND WAS NOT EXPECTING SUCH A QUICK RESPONSE I WOULD DIE FOR YOU | @yourtwitter: also lmfao i forgot about that ny thing that was good, from what i remember. do u still have that recording of us?? i may or may not have forgotten everything about that night apart from it being a blast #bringbacknewyork | @ashton5sos: Calum has it but also its 2am and he’s asleep, which you should also do. You know the boys are gonna love this... #bringbacknewyork | @y/nirwin: thank u both i have decided to pass away effective immediately #bringbacknewyork

End ID.]

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse imagine #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #sykkuno #jacksepticeye #valkyrae #how the light gets in #shut ur pretty mouth #cyltlanp

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talvin-muircastle · 3 years ago

Text

Fifty Years: A Personal Perspective On History

My father passed away recently, at the start of the year in which I shall reach the venerable age of half a century old. Which is giving me a lot of cause for reflection.

Yes, I turn 50 later this year.

Half a century. I mean...think about that. What does that really mean? I hang out on a platform where many people seem to think 30 is old.

It seems like a long time, but it's not. I knew people who were born in the 19th Century. I had friends, friends much older than me of course, who fought in World War 2. I interviewed my grandmother about life in the Great Depression for a school project. There are not that many degrees of separation between you and people like that. History is very close to now.

A couple caveats:

First, yes, I am discussing my full birthdate. Some people advise against that. It *is* used overmuch as a "secret question" linked to ID when that data is very easily gotten any number of ways. For me, it is a calculated risk. I am not advising you do what I am doing.

Second, while I am going to discuss a number of historic events and persons that surround the date of my birth, that's the extent of my connection with them. I am not claiming any closer connection than that: these things happened, these people were alive, at the same time I was alive. And while it does give me a perspective on history, living through a time doesn't make me an expert on it.

Let's start with "Who was alive when I was born?" You may recognize a few names, here.

J.R.R. Tolkien was alive when I was born. He died a little over a year later, Sept. 2 1973.

At the time I was born, there were only two living former Presidents of the United States: Harry Truman (Yes, the guy who ordered the atomic bombs dropped) and Lyndon B. Johnson. Truman died the day after Christmas in the year I was born. Johnson died not quite a month after that. This led to the unusual situation (or so it seems now) of there being *no* living former Presidents until Richard Nixon resigned effective noon on my second birthday. Weird birthday present, but I am not giving it back.

Peter Mills, the last survivor of legalized American Slavery, was still alive when I was born. Yes, I was on this planet at the same time as someone who was a slave in the United States. He was born in 1861 and died a month and a half after I was born, aged 110. That does put things into perspective, doesn't it? This is not "ancient history": there is a direct overlap between the lifetime of someone who was born in that era and my own lifetime. While I don't think we knew anyone in common, it would be possible for one person to have encountered both of us. And for that notional person to still be alive as well.

Other famous people, in no particular order, who were still alive when I was born: Jackie Robinson Agatha Christie Elvis Presley Wernher von Braun Pablo Picasso Max Fleischer, who brought us Betty Boop and also brought Popeye to animation Bruce Lee was alive and kickin'! Betty White--*of course*--was alive, and still the TV hostess for the Tournament of Roses Parade. (I was looking for more women whose names would be recognizable to you all, but nothing jumped out at me as I searched around that time in Wikipedia. It says a lot about power and influence and sexism in the middle 20th Century.)

The Beatles had broken up a couple years before, but the first reunion of Simon and Garfunkel had happened only a couple months prior to my birth.

The year in which I was born started with the rock group Queen doing a gig at which only six people showed up. Just let that sink in for a minute. They didn't sign with a label and hit the charts until the next year.

The Watergate Scandal was current, developing news when I was born.

At the time I was born, all pending sentences of capital punishment in the United States had been reduced to life imprisonment due to the decision in Furman v. Georgia. Not sure when the next death sentence that withstood scrutiny under that decision was handed down, but it's a safe bet nobody was on death row in the USA when I was born.

The last (to date) manned mission to Earth's Moon had not yet taken place when I was born. That happened in December of that year: Apollo 17.

The Vietnam War was still going on, though the end was in sight: the Paris Peace Accords were in January of 1973.

France was still using the guillotine for executions when I was born. They retired it (the last nation to do so) in 1977.

The Lorax (the original!), Snoopy Come Home, and John Wayne's The Cowboys were all on the big screen. Maude, starring Bea Arthur later of Golden Girls fame, was premiering on TV. Rue McClanahan also was in that show. Return of the Dragon, Fist of Fury, Lone Wolf and Cub, Zatoichi, all out there at this time. Conquest of the Planet of the Apes came out. It was a busy year for movies, but many of them even I do not recognize.

Blacula. They did a blaxploitation movie based on Dracula the year I was born. I leave it to those more qualified to debate its merits and flaws.

So that is what was happening fifty years ago, the year I was born. Well, some of it. A tiny bit, really. But you recognize most of these things, right? Many of them are related to current events and concerns in some way.

Fifty years seems like a long time.

And like no time at all.

My friend next door is in his 80s, and in 1968, he was the first Black Man on this block. Imagine what he has seen and lived through and watched go by in his life.

He says I am still a baby compared to him.

Maybe I am.

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remusmainhoe · 4 years ago

Text

sirius x reader

warning:smut, language.

not sure what it is, I wanna say friends, to lovers, but really I just got carried away. I hope you love it, I had fun writing it.

I was laying on the grass, near the black lake. The sun shined on the water, the warm breeze lifting the pages of my book, my mother had gotten me about medicine since she worked at st. Mungos, but I always preferred the greek mythology books my dad had left me. I saw him from a distance, sitting down on the grass, sheltered by the shade of a tree, his back relaxed against the bark. Two other girls near him were giggling at each other, stealing glances of him every now and then, their cheeks flushed with anticipation for his attention. Even from a distance, I could make out his face, unbothered by the girls, his dark, smooth hair dancing in front of his face every now and then. His eyes remained closed, his mouth carved into that faint grin he wore so much. James was next to him, his mouth moving, grasping the snitch before it got too close to freedom, and letting it go once more. Seeing how James ran a hand through his jet black hair, careful enough to leave it perfectly messy. Remus crouched down on the floor, eyes hungrily reading every word of the paper in front of him. A strand of his sandy brown hair on his face gone ignored, his hands grasping his quill, focused. Peter was watching James, as his hands clasp around the snitch for the 100th time.

I couldn’t help catching a glimpse of the boy, feeling like the other girls whose eyes also felt what I could only describe as a magnetic pull toward him. To me, he felt like a flame, you could appreciate it, and regard it as precious, but you know better than to get too close. I try to peel my eyes off him, staring back at the book in my lap. When my eyes tired of the words on the page that no longer meant anything, I looked up again only to find those piercing eyes staring back. The corner of his mouth lifting, flashing his teeth, his calculating eyes refusing to let me go. I tear away from him, refusing to give in. I stand up, picking up my things, and make my way back to the Gryffindor tower, rushing up the stairs to my dormitory. I laid in bed, refusing to acknowledge the way he made me feel. The butterflies that swarmed through my body, the warm feeling in my chest, because no one can have this much control over me. Falling asleep that night, his eyes being the last thought before I fall asleep, and my first thought when I wake up.

Waking up slowly, getting out of bed, taking the morning air deeply, letting it feel my lungs, and hoping it could erase that feeling he made me feel. The great hall filled with the first light of the day, my lids heavy as I sit down at the Gryffindor table. The table slowly filling up with students fueling up for the days' classes. I ate my breakfast in silence, lightly listening to the words the other girls were gossiping to me. When I felt those piercing eyes on me again, not wanting to believe my own senses, I ignored them. Lessons that day went by blandly and slowly, I plopped down on my chair in the astronomy tower at midnight. Opening my book to get ready for the lesson, I felt someone sit down next to me, I glanced quickly to see who it was.

“I hope this seat wasn’t being saved for someone else,” he says, clearly noticing the confusion on my face.

“Um, no, it's ok” I sputter out, he flashed another smile in response, in turn making those damn butterflies return, I fight the slight heat in my cheeks.

Before anything else can happen, the professor calls things into order, starting the lesson for the day. Any of the tiredness that I felt, fluttered away. the professor assigned us to fill a star chart of the different constellations with a partner.

“Well, what do you say, partner?” He said turning his body to my attention, certainty in his voice.

I had known him enough to know the charade he performed with other girls, making them stutter slightly, making their cheeks hurt with the smile he would cause. I was certainly not one to judge, for who could blame them? The way that he moved in a way that felt effortlessly yet still carried some precision, the way his words came out of his mouth like honey. The most frustrating thing that made it difficult to forgive him for the effect he had, was that he knew he was goddamn gorgeous, and he liked to see the effect he could have.

“I say, I'm tired, and I wanna get this over with,” I said, surprising myself.

His eyes flickered with something, his shitfaced grin refusing to leave. He turned to his telescope and started to get to work. His hand fidgeting with his quill, his other hand gracing the telescope. I turned my head back to my telescope, observing Perseus, Studying the made-up lines I imagined connecting the stars, picturing Perseus ‘the hero’ with his sword and shield. I started plotting the dots on the chart, his hand hovering on the paper before getting to work on another part of the sky. I then saw Canis Major, which wasn’t that hard to find due to the brightest star ‘Sirius’. Remembering the books I read on the stories and mythology of the stars. Picturing Laelaps the dog that always caught whatever it hunted. sent to hunt the Teumessian fox, a fox that could never be caught. Realizing that they were doomed to be the hunter and the hunted for eternity, Zeus turned them both to stone then placed them in the sky as the constellations Canis Major (Laelaps) and Canis Minor (the Teumessian fox). The irony, of course, is that they continue the chase in an eternal hunt, with Canis Minor rising in the winter skies about an hour before Canis Major, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Did you find a man on the moon or something?” Sirius’s voice pulling me back to the astronomy tower.

“Hmm?”

“You’re smiling at the stars” he pointed out, his eyes full of intrigue.

“Oh, it's nothing, I just like the constellations and the myths and stories they carry,” I explain focusing once more and filling out the star chart we were almost finished with.

“Like what?” He asked leaning closer as if it were a deep secret only he was to hear.

“Well… I like the pegasus,” I said drawing it on the star chart “The winged horse, in Greek mythology, used by Zeus to carry thunder and lightning,” I said not being able to hide an amused smile.

“ the stories become a bit tangled though, there are different stories about each of them…” I continued “like the birth of Orion, one story tells how his father was a poor shepherd called Hyrieus. Once, Zeus, Hermes, and Poseidon stopped by Hyrieus’ house. Hyrieus was so generous with his guests that he killed the only animal he had - an ox. Hyrieus was not aware that his guests were gods. The gods wanted to reward Hyrieus’ generosity by granting him a wish. Hyrieus’ biggest desire was to have a child. The gods told him to bury the hide of the bull he had sacrificed to them and to pee on it. After nine months, a boy was born in that place. The child became a very handsome and strong man. He became a very good hunter and threatened to kill all of the wild animals of the world, however, Gaia the mother of all animals was not pleased with his intention. Gaia set a giant scorpion on Orion, who soon realized that’s strength and sword were useless against the mighty Scorpio. Orion tried to escape, but was stung and placed in the stars along with the Scorpio set to chase him forever as a reminder from Gaia to protect the environment.” I stopped talking, realizing that who I had been ranting to. Instead of looking up to see a look of boredom, and annoyance that I was expecting to see, I was met with those eyes, laser-focused on me, his body slightly leaned in my direction.

“I told you, it's nothing, just random shit I think about” I dismiss it trying to not get sucked into his gaze.

“Is that we read so often outside near the lake?” He asked, not looking away from me.

“Among other things” I respond, before can think about it, I say “why do you care?”

He looked at me for a moment, “I don't” he said, and leaned back in his chair for a few minutes staring at the sky. Our star sheet laid out completed, and minutes to spare.

“But let's say I do,” he said leaning back toward me swiftly, his scent gracing my nose, my lungs filling lightly with cologne, leather, and cigarettes.

“Ok, humor me.” I say “what could Mr. popularity possibly have to care about? Apart from his hair”, I say, this time keeping eye contact.

“What do you have against my hair?” He said in the mocked offense.

“Nothing” I answer with slight sarcasm, slightly holding my hands up in defense.

I don't know what made me feel the need to not let him get to me. Hogwarts, although a big castle, I would always see how the girls would spoil him with love, and attention. I’ve read enough books, I don't want to be the “I'm not like other girls” bullshit, but I'm not gonna let him play his little game of cat and mouse.

He paused for a moment before speaking again, “well I just think that any book that can keep you from stealing glances at me, must be one hell of a book”

“Well, you think mighty big of yourself” I choke out a laugh, “you know, for a second there you had me,” I say without missing a beat.

“Is that so?” He countered.

Before I can say more, the lesson ends, I grab my things not trusting myself to say more. Getting to my dorm room, my head infected with him. His grin plastered on his face, with those eyes that see right through anyone. I'm not angry with what he said, it's what he made me feel that terrified me.

The next day, I sat at the Gryffindor table having breakfast, when I felt someone sit next to me. I turned and saw him sitting there, a bit further from his groupie.

“What are you doing over here,” I asked out of pure reflex.

“It is a free country” he responded as he served his breakfast.

“Yeah… sorry” he hadn’t done anything wrong, and it wasn’t my business, even if it was weird to see his hip separated from James. We ate in silence and headed to our first class, transfiguration, the moment I took my seat, he plopped down next to me.

“Ok, what’s your game here?” I ask him, frustrated that I even have to fight back a grin playing at the corner of my mouth. If he noticed, he didn’t say so.

“Nothing,” he said innocently. The class began, and we were assigned to transform bunnies into slippers. I managed to make some hoping slippers, with a tail at the back, Sirius chuckled at them.

“Don't judge them” I said, not even realizing I was smiling.

“I'm sorry,” he says, poorly hiding his amusement.

“Why don't you try it then” I challenge looking at his bunny.

“Ok, fine” he shrugged, with a swish of his wand, his bunny turned into a pair of slippers you would probably only find at a high-end store. “I could give you a lesson if you want” he teased.

“You know, one day you’re going to need slippers that jump,” I said catching my slippers, and transforming them back into the fluffy bunny.

The classes after that, he sat next to me, at first I thought he would come back to his senses and go back to his group, but after 2 weeks of laughing at his jokes in class, how he would pull a little prank, how he would know how to get me to start ranting about something, I didn’t think twice about it. He then started to sit with me in the library, and distract me from doing work. Later on, he and I would go out near the black lake where I once sat alone, I read to him the stories I held so deep to my heart. He would grasp every word of it.

It was inevitable, but after a while, I started to hang out with the others too. Remus and I would revise together, James would pull me into small pranks, and I would help Peter understand some of the charms he couldn’t do.

I tried not to think about the things I would feel when I saw Sirius. How I wanted to mess up his hair just a little bit because it was too perfect. How his laughter gave me a feeling of happiness that spread to my mouth that made me smile and laugh like an idiot. How I would think about the way that his muscles moved when he practiced quidditch with James, how his face looked chiseled by the gods.

I was back in the Gryffindor common room, trying to finish as much work as I could before I realized that the common room was empty, looking up at the clock to see the hands read 3:30 in the morning. I was about to gather my things to head to my dorm and call it a night when I heard the door to the common room open. Turning around, I didn’t see anyone there, yet the door started to close on its own, the fat lady fast asleep. Before I can even process it, I hear a thump near the fireplace, and all of the sudden see Sirius on the floor, a cloak next to him. Before I can even question it, I see the scarlet red that trails on his white shirt, I felt my eyes open wide as I rush to him, my legs forming a mind of their own.

“Sirius?”

He looks up at me, “y/n.. I-“ he's cut off with a hiss of pain escaping his mouth as the blood trails down.

“Take off your shirt so I can see”

“Isn’t that a bold request” he forces a teasing smile.

“Your a wanker” I say trying not to laugh, my heart still racing. “You know what I mean”

He lifts the white shirt, if it weren’t for the gash on his torso, I could have been easily distracted by the way that his muscles moved. The way that the low light of the fireplace reflected off his skin, the way that his skin glowed from a slight sheen of sweat.

“Stay here, ill be right back,” I say getting up, he grabbed my hand before I could move.

“You can't get any help,” he said, his voice laced with panic.

“It's ok, I have some bandages in my dorm,” I said. I rushed up to my trunk and grabbed what I needed, my mother always made sure I was prepared and was eager to teach me everything she could about her work. I rushed back to the common room, kneeling next to him. My fingers slightly shaking from the initial shock. The scratch was deep, so I started to work on some charms that my mother had taught me. Sirius was laying down on his elbows. After healing the wound as much as I could, I grabbed a small towel, drowning it in water, and brushing it lightly on his dark red blood now rusting slightly on him.

“How do you know all that?” He asked, I hadn’t noticed him looking at me.

“My mum” I answered wrapping him up in bandages. “How does it feel?” I asked

“Loads better” he answered.

“You better get some rest, take the bandage off tomorrow in the morning, if it hasn’t healed completely tell me,” I said, “did you lose a lot of blood?” I asked starting to examine him to see if he was paler than usual”

“I'm ok y/n, thank you,” he said, “aren’t you gonna ask me why I was butchered, or why I'm out at 3 in the morning?” He asked.

“If you want to tell me, id be glad to hear it, but it's non of my business” I answered honestly, he looked at me relieved, “thank you, it's not really my secret to tell”. He was sitting up a lot straighter.

“I get it,” I said sincerely.

“Why are you up so late?” He asked.

“I was just working a bit, got carried away. I was on my way to my dorm when you stumbled in” I smiled.

“Yeah, sorry bout that”

“It's nothing, my mum would probably thank you for giving some medical practice” I joke.

“Glad to help. It's hypnotizing seeing you so focused.” He said

I laid in my bed that night, feeling guilt for knowing that I got so close to the flame I promised myself I wouldn’t touch, yet also feeling a sense of relief that he was ok.

The next morning I sat in the morning, not being able to help myself, wanting to know how he was. He came downstairs, the look of surprise evident in his eyes at seeing me waiting for him.

“Y/n,” he said.

“Hey, sorry, I just wanted to know if you were ok”

“Yeah, It's healed” he answered making sure only I could hear him.

“That’s good… well I just… I just wanted to make sure”

“Thank you again,” he said, taking a step closer.

His eyes were piercing right through me, his hand hovering slightly over mine. I leaned up and kissed him, my hand over his jaw, my lips on his, my tongue tasting him like a drug I never knew I was sober from. His lips welcoming me, I snapped back into reality and pulled away, his eyes still close leaning in my direction.

“I'm sorry… I … sorry” was all I could spit out, I made my way back to my dorm feeling like a fool for thinking that a guy like Sirius would like me, that he regarded me any more different than the other girls that touched those same lips. I had been stupid, I had burned my house I worked so hard to protect, on that flame yet what scared me was that I would do it again. His hand grabbed my wrist. before I knew it, those lips met mine again, but this time they were prepared. He pulled apart just enough to speak.

“I want you y/n”

“You already have me”

I couldn’t even think about how stupid I was being, how cheesy this all was, because when his hands lingered on my waist as his lips enraptured me all thoughts and common sense went out the window. Up in his dormitory he closed the door, we both knew everyone would be in lessons. My hands tangled in his hair finally getting a chance to mess it up. His hands sliding my shirt off as he unclipped my bra, and I took his shirt off, and he pulled down my skirt, I slipped out of my shoes. For a moment he looked at me, revealed for him, exposed.

“My merlin you’re even more gorgeous than I thought,” he said breathlessly. I could feel myself blush, he started to massage my breasts, and I let out a moan. I unbuckled his belt and felt him hard for me. All this time I thought he was in control, yet he felt the same things I felt. I slipped a hand removing his trousers enough to relieve him a bit, he let out a low growl and I throbbed. He moved my panties, starting to draw circles on my clit making me unravel. I laid on his bed, pinned down beneath him, he stretched me out, and I let out a gasp of pleasure. His mouth began to play with my nipples, placing hickeys everywhere because I was his. I bit down a moan.

“Don't hold it back love, I wanna hear you scream” he said in my ear. His movements making the pleasure in my abdomen build-up, but I knew he would tell me when I could cum for him.

“Sirius” his name coming out of my lips like water.

“Cum for me darling”

#sirius black #sirius #sirius x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #harry potter marauders #smut roleplay #sirius x reader smut #harry potter #hogwarts

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zargsnake · 3 years ago

Photo

Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 8: Priorities

Word Count: 2565 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

* * *

Anakin hears the cheers for Obi-Wan turn sour, and he soon figures out why. It is no fault of his master's, who fights beautifully -- but there is a transparent dome-shield around the arena, and whenever someone in the angry, heavily-armed audience shoots at it, ripples of white electric shocks cross the dome and obscure the fight. Anakin is relieved that the audience is booing each other, not his master, though he worries that Obi-Wan will think they're booing at him.

Obi-Wan looks over his shoulder, trying to locate Anakin in the audience, and a blade suddenly whizzes by his neck. His reflexes protect him and he jerks out of the way, but a moment later he feels hot blood on his skin. He hadn't moved quickly enough -- the blade cut him sharp and swift. It hurts a lot more than he expected. It could have easily killed him.

He was so focused on finding Anakin in this crowd that he forgot Anakin's own words to him, his warnings about this opponent. Obi-Wan hadn't taken Anakin seriously about Tiango. Of course it was sad about Anakin’s “cool” gladiator friend, but Obi-Wan defeated a Sith lord not long ago. The experience buoyed his confidence to a fault. This Tiango -- not a Sith, not even a professional, just an ex-science experiment, just a Yooro -- landed a blow on him -- a pretty good one, too.

Obi-Wan rapidly teaches himself a lesson. Connecting with Anakin doesn't mean knowing exactly where he is. It means listening to him. Believing him. That's what teachers do. It's what friends do.

This isn't the Outer Rim, but these people are. This is Anakin's haunt. Obi-Wan will train it out of him, will make him a man of the Core. But for now, Anakin is the expert here, and his words must be Obi-Wan's textbook.

With his heart opened wide for Anakin, and his guard up because of Anakin's warning, Obi-Wan realizes he will have to hunker down in defense for a while. Tiango's assault is brutal and inhumanly quick, though Obi-Wan remembers that Yoroos do get exhausted -- eventually. What Obi-Wan lacks in comparative strength, he makes up for in endurance -- patience and energy, the long game, care -- these are Obi-Wan's secret weapons.

Anakin watches Obi-Wan deflect the same moves that once ruthlessly whittled down Crix Spartak, the gladiator who he had loved. The memory of that death match sends chills up his spine. He is certain that some of these blows must hit his master. Part of him is certain that Obi-Wan is doomed, too. Anakin had believed Crix would win, and he had been wrong. It is asking too much to have hope again, against the same, utterly evil man.

Though Obi-Wan has great endurance, his vibroblade does not. Out of habit, he treats it as roughly as if it were a laser weapon, depending on it for deflection, as a shield. Tiango's barrage strikes the metal and bends it back and forth into a zigzag, then into a knot. Obi-Wan is slowly disarmed as his blade becomes less and less tenable as a weapon. He has no choice; he has no other shield. The biggest bother is his own hand: the damn vibroblade is aptly named -- it quivers like a leaf in the wind, wearing out his wrist and weakening his fingers.

The crowd cheers enthusiastically for the graceful Jedi, chanting, "Kenobi! Kenobi!" Anakin does not join in. Obi-Wan could almost be dancing with his expert moves, but Anakin is not in the mood to learn from him. He gazes in hopeless terror at the duel. He watches bullets, lasers and slingshotted electrostones bounce off the dome, as well as gifts, toys and even people’s underwear. All such wild debris from this crazed crowd trying to reach out to their beloved or hated athlete, his poor, wonderful master.

The fastest or biggest bullets send fuzzy waves across the dome, but the dome quickly repairs itself. Anakin follows the arc of the dome, calculating the sources of its projection points from subtle distortions in the waves.

He moves the layers of fur in his stolen disguise to peek at the recharging screen on his hidden acid-blaster: 52%. No other weapons are making a dent in the dome. But no other weapons are quite like this one, and no one else seems to have figured out where to shoot. Could he crack the dome? What would he do then?

Anakin looks away from Obi-Wan for a second and scans his narrowed eyes over the happy rabble. He does not understand them. Are they seeing what he's seeing? They all shout and cheer, laughing and clapping, as if Obi-Wan is triumphant, as if he is playing. He looks back at his master. He sees that Obi-Wan is in great pain. Dying, even. How can the information from his senses, and the conclusions from his feelings, be so different from everyone else's?

Is he connecting, mentally, to his master -- using his supposed Jedi powers to see things for how they truly are? Is he seeing the truth, better than they are, because he is a Jedi, a Jedi Padawan? Is the Force giving him a special message -- because he, unlike the rabble, is a Jedi -- because he, unlike everyone, is the answer to a prophecy -- because he is closer to Obi-Wan than anyone else is?

Or ... is he, Anakin, wrong? Is everyone else right? Is his sight blinded by irrational fear, brought about by his utter dependence on this man? Did Obi-Wan really stumble, just now? No one else seems to have seen it.

Is he, Anakin, perhaps, confusing the past for the present? Crix for Obi-Wan? Death for life?

Is it all in his head? Or is it real?

* * *

Below the arena, Zlinky has memorized the map from the computer. With Jane, she trespasses through the employee quarters. They reach a large, important-looking office which Zlinky guesses is Knightkiller's.

She hears voices inside and shouts at the door, “Hey boss! There's fried fluunies in Rec Room 3!”

She backs off as the door opens and two people exit. Zlinky creeps inside and Jane blusters along behind her. Too soon, they hear the people coming back and Zlinky shoves Jane under the slick metallic desk; the robot is so big that two of the desk legs lift a few inches from the ground. There isn't much room left for Zlinky; she has to nestle right up against Jane's bazooka. A belt of detonators falls across Zlinky's lap.

She peeks over the edge of the desk and sees the people more closely. They look more decorated than the other guards, with sashes and medals, as if there was some kind of made-up military ranking among Knightkiller's cronies, a worthless army dedicated solely to this evil entertainment.

“These fluunies are great,” says one crony.

“I’ve had better,” says the other.

The hidden Padawan hears the gross sounds of chewing, and then the rather more alarming sound of Jane powering up her neutralizers. Zlinky quiets her and gestures for her to stop. Stealth has worked so far; it would be best to avoid violence, especially since these two seem important.

“I can't wait to run the missing Jedi kids through with this,” says the first one, as he ignites a lightsaber.

Zlinky stops gesturing, but Jane has already powered down.

“The Jedi kids must still be on the ship. No one's been allowed to leave and no shuttle pods have activated.”

“You think Jedi could survive in space?”

“No. Only the boss can do that. You saw them in those Coruscanti space suits, idiot.”

“Oh right.”

The second crony ignites another lightsaber. Even without looking, Zlinky recognizes the sound as her own. She feels something very powerful and uncomfortable. Taken aback, she identifies it as jealousy, one of the very worst emotions. Afraid of her own feelings, she is frozen, unable to act, unable to know if she is behaving rationally, according to the light side, or irrationally, which will lead her off the narrow path into darkness.

“They're real nice suits. I called dibs on the man-size one for me and the little one for my daughter.”

“Yeah...the gigantic one and the lady-size one are pretty useless.”

“I'll take the lady one for my kid to grow into.”

Zlinky thinks, I'm twelve! I’m not a lady! Though I am much taller than Anakin. So they say Anakin is missing, too? That means he's not dead! If only I was strong enough to detect his presence!

Jane pokes Zlinky and gestures to her blasters. Zlinky shakes her head.

We can't kill him! He's a dad!

They hear the two men walking closer and closer. One of them accidentally hits something with the lightsaber; the girls hear them cursing and smell melting plastic.

Zlinky feels time running out. This hiding spot is bad. She ran in here without a plan. She knows her decision-making is impeded by fear, jealousy, and access to a murder-droid, but she must decide something.

Zlinky quickly examines the settings on Jane's weapons. All these numbers and charts are too confusing to parse right now. She dials one dial back, but it only causes some numbers to rise and others to fall. She puts it back where it was, though the numbers are still not the same. The last time Jane shot someone, it wasn't fatal. At least not immediately.

The girl feels tears pressuring her eyes and throat. She doesn't want to hurt anyone. She has learned through stories and lessons that the darkness within is far worse than the darkness without. She is more frightened of doing wrong than she is of dying. There is no death. But there is evil.

She can't get out of her head a discussion she overheard from some of the older Padawans. This group of twenty- and thirty-somethings is the pride of the whole Temple. Everyone adores them -- the strongest, most beautiful, best students in school. Once they are knighted, then they leave the young people’s social circle to rub shoulders with the teachers, and have no time for their old friends -- but before they are knighted, they rule the school from the inside, and everyone lets them get away with a little more fun than knights are allowed. In those last years of Padawanship, they are the most free a Jedi can be.

Just last month, when Zlinky fetched the group snacks from the mess hall in order to bask in their presence, she found them in a very strange state. When one of them returns from a mission, the others crowd around to hear the stories and see the new scars. The latest conquering hero, a human named Sara Chid-wun, did not have a physical scar. But she had such an aura of bitterness around her that the whole group was affected, including the young interloper Zlinky.

Sara explained how she and her Master Kayji were caught in various difficult situations, and each time Kayji had neglected to act, so each time Sara had been forced to act herself, often with violence. It felt like a test that she continuously failed. And yet, ultimately, they succeeded in their mission. Sara claimed that Kayji would not address her concerns with anything beyond platitudes.

The whole experience led Sara to, hesitantly, conclude that Masters often take advantage of their students. Masters refuse to move, and claim they are trusting in the Force, or allowing evil to collapse in on itself, or some such excuse, while in reality they are leaving the sensible but nasty work to the impure, young Padawan tagging along.

The group discussed each example, and more from their own adventures, each trying to explain away their masters’ -- sometimes -- confusing actions, each unwilling to support Sara’s conclusion -- including, of course, Sara herself. But the group found that, if they were being honest, she might be right. Sometimes. So they had moved on to finding the moral lesson in this seemingly cruel behavior -- something about knightly violence being worse than non-knightly violence, something about power and purity.

And maybe they came to a satisfying explanation among themselves; Sara herself seemed as cheerful as normal the next time Zlinky saw her. But Zlinky hadn't felt comfortable sitting in on their important big-kid conversation any longer, so she had left at the darkest part of it.

Tila has never forced Zlinky's hand before. Zlinky has never had to kill anyone before. But now the master is indeed the one sitting out, while the student is the one doing the work.

Is it okay to stray off the path when you are only a Padawan? Is it, in fact, expected, and necessary? Must she walk in the gray area beside the light, until she is a master herself, and can savor the light all the time, and never have to do any more wrong? When she is knighted, then she can delegate that dark stuff to someone else, someone young and obedient?

The thought occurs to Zlinky that she is not the one who would do the killing -- that would be Jane. But she knows that is a flaky excuse. Jane is her responsibility. Just as she is Tila's. The blood is on all their hands.

Zlinky turns to Jane and nods. Jane immediately stands up and neutralizes the guards. Zlinky pokes her head over the desk, sees the smoking bodies, and fears the worst.

“Are they dead?”

“ɪ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ɪᴛ. ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴄᴀᴘᴀᴄɪᴛʏ.“

“I'm pretty sure your full capacity is overkill.”

She tiptoes over to the guard's bodies. One seems to be breathing. The other, she can't tell.

She can't alert anyone to the danger, and she doesn't trust the medical facilities here anyway. But she has nothing to give them, to help them. She puts her hand on the soft, sandy hair of the one whose life is unclear to her, the one who has a little daughter.

“May the Force be with you.”

Her voice is a shaky whisper, but she's never meant those words so much as she means them now.

Please, please, live.

She pulls the lightsaber from his hand and turns it off, and does the same with the other guard. She finds three more lightsabers on their belts. She recognizes hers and her master’s; two of them must be Anakin’s and his master’s; the last one could be Glagret’s, a.k.a. Knightkiller’s. It's green, and of the same old fashion as her master’s. She is surprised and glad that it isn't red. But maybe Knightkiller carries her red one on her person. Or maybe, just maybe, the Sith are not at all involved. She prays that they aren't.

Zlinky and Jane hide the bodies behind the desk and lock the door behind them. Zlinky turns away from the door and does not look back.

They were gonna kill me. They still will kill me, if they figure it out. I have to act in self-defense. And I have to save the other three Jedi. These people may be people, but they are low-lives, murderers, and lawbreakers. It wasn't my choice that they got in my way.

Chapter 9: Crix Spartak

#my story #my art #star wars #knightkiller: anakin and obi-wan's first adventure #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #chahlee tiango #zlinkgwal zalt #jane #scifi #adventure #drama

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thornedrose44 · 4 years ago

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What Would It Take?

Read on AO3

Their friendship was stronger than it had ever been but it was also so, so, so different to what it once was for Kara.

They were open and honest about their day, their fears, their hopes… everything. And with all that came vulnerability, laying yourself bare and exposed.

For Lena, things were probably no different to the last time, she had always been open, had never hidden away parts of herself from Kara Danvers, had been honest about her relationship with Lex and all the positives and negatives that came with that.

But for Kara this was an entirely new experience.

Previously, Kara had kept her walls up and had hidden her defences behind lies and subterfuge. She would empathise with Lena but never reveal shared experiences, would keep her loss and pain close to the chest, would allude but never directly explain. Now, Kara was Kara Zor-El with Lena. There were no shadows to hide in, nor half-formed lies and rushed excuses to duck behind. She was no longer keeping a part of herself hidden away and protected.

When they re-started their friendship it came with the understanding that there would be no more lies or secrets between them. That for their friendship to work it had to be built on honesty at its most fundamental level.

With that agreement in place, over the course of their first few interactions, Kara came to a realisation that broke her.

It was the realisation that this (honesty and openness) was easier for Lena to do than it was for Kara. It was the realisation that Kara didn’t know how to have a relationship without some kind of secret to hide behind; even with Alex there were no-go topics and parts of themselves neither wanted to share. It was the realisation that Lena had time and time again, prior to the reveal, put herself out there thinking Kara was stood by her side, equally exposed and vulnerable.

With that realisation came a whole swathe of emotions.

Guilt.

Shame.

Pain.

Confusion.

But there also came a commitment.

A commitment to meet Lena halfway. To let herself be truly vulnerable with another person. Not just for Lena but for herself.

With that commitment came a strong friendship. A real one. More real than any Kara had ever had before.

Kara no longer filtered her thoughts to hide parts of herself. She spoke her mind and that… that was where the trouble really started.

For a number of reasons.

“Rao, you look beautiful.”

“Your mind is incredible.”

“You’re so graceful and elegant.”

“Lena, you’re just… fantastic, have I told you that recently?”

“I adore your eyes.”

All of those were said in a single day. Scratch that, a two hour period. Games Night to be exact.

Kara hadn’t even known she was doing it, let alone that frequently, until Nia had jumped into the air shouting “Bingo” after Kara had complimented Lena’s hair. Turns out the Superfriends (Kara was thinking of retracting that title) had started a ‘Compliment Bingo’ that they had been playing in secret for the last three months to capitalise on Kara’s tendency to sing Lena’s praises (literally singing Lena’s praises was on Alex and Brainy’s bingo charts and had won them the game at least twice). Nia and Alex had confessed all of this to Kara rather sheepishly after Lena had been pulled back to L-Corp to handle a business crisis following Nia’s ‘bingo’ exclamation.

Bingo-gate probably should have put an end to the compliments but by that point Kara had become somewhat addicted to the pink blush that would dust Lena’s lovely cheeks whenever Kara blurted out a compliment without thinking (having put her filter aside at the restart of their friendship).

See, the thing is… the big realisation at the restart of their friendship wasn’t just about Kara’s sudden self reflection nor her guilt for the earlier handling of her friendship with Lena. They were big parts, huge even, but they weren’t everything. And they weren’t the part that was plaguing Kara now, six months later.

The big realisation, the actual one that had come with having Lena in her life in a full and complete way after being deprived for so long, after thinking that she might never have her back again, never hold her hand, never hug her was…

Love.

Kara loved her.

The big kind of love.

The love Alex had been telling her about over the course of countless sister nights when it came to Maggie and now to Kelly.

The kind of love that meant every time you looked at them you saw something that was just so perfect and wonderful that you can barely keep the words of adoration back (not that Kara even tried to anymore). The kind of love that meant you wanted them safe and cared for.

And despite six months of carefully reconstructed friendship. Six months of coming to grips with the big realisation. Six months of being vulnerable with Lena. Six months of her eyes being open to a new reality where she was in love with her best friend.

Six life-changing months and it never even crossed her mind that Lena could feel the same way about her.

That was until today...

Today, Kara was going food shopping and, since she was also getting snacks for games night later that evening, Lena had offered to come along and help.

It was something that had become standard between them now. Keeping each other company for random chores and daily life excursions. Kara accompanied Lena to the gym to provide the CEO with light conversation and motivation despite not receiving any tangible benefit from the activity (though Kara found the sight of Lena, with a light sheen of sweat, stretching after a workout was a reward beyond anything she could have imagined). Lena, meanwhile, helped Kara with her taxes and happily kept Kara company when she had to sort out her laundry.

Kara had never had a friendship like this before. All of her other friendships (not including Alex) had required that there was some form of entertainment to go alongside every interaction. With Lena, there was no longer that pressure there. Lena would happily work away on her laptop whilst Kara edited her recent article without complaint, in fact, the raven-haired woman seemed to likewise appreciate how at ease they both felt when silent.

Therefore, when Lena offered to come food-shopping with her, Kara didn’t think twice about saying yes.

Kara worried her bottom lip as she looked between the two loaves of bread. One was freshly baked and still slightly warm to the touch. The other was store-branded, squashed on one side and far less appetising but it was a dollar cheaper. Kara let out a regretful sigh, as she put back the warm new loaf and grabbed two of the cheaper variety. Kara headed back to the trolley, tossing in her latest picks before dropping her gaze to scrutinise her scribbled list of items.

“Why didn’t you buy the other one?” Lena asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“Hmm…” Kara hummed, glancing over at the raven haired woman who had an unreadable expression on her face.

“The other loaf of bread.”

“This one’s cheaper.” Kara replied gesturing to the squashed loaves in the trolley.

“Why not get both?” Lena prompted.

“I don’t need both.”

“You may not need that particular loaf but you definitely need more than two.” Lena asserted, moving forward to lean against the side of Kara’s trolley, bringing her into Kara’s space.

Kara barely held back the ‘Rao, your eyes are the purest green’ that flitted through her mind as she struggled to stay focused on the rather bizarre conversation she was having right now. “I only ever buy two.” Kara pointed out.

“Yes but you need more.” Lena insisted, her gaze narrowing.

“I do?” Kara said dumbly, uncertain where Lena’s intensity was coming from.

“Yes!” Lena declared, “With the number of calories you burn through due to your ‘extra-curricular’ activities, you require a far more substantive intake that what you are currently acquiring for yourself.”

“Huh?” Kara blinked, she had definitely been listening but her attention had been only half on what Lena was saying; the other half had been on the way Lena’s long, delicate fingers twisted around the wired bars of the trolley so elegantly.

“Kara…” Lena sighed, her green eyes going soft and melancholic in that particular way that always made Kara’s heart flutter and twist in her chest as if it wanted to reach out itself to soothe the other woman. “The amount of food you have in your trolley and how much you intend to buy are nowhere near enough to cover your daily requirements. If my calculations are correct, you need to be buying out the entire store every other week.”

Kara’s face reddened with embarrassment at the far too accurate assessment causing her to rub the back of her neck nervously.

It was the fact that they had promised to be honest with one another in tandem with the destruction of Kara’s filter when it came to Lena, that resulted in the following words coming out of the blonde’s mouth so easily, “Shockingly enough, not everyone can buy an entire store.”

Kara hadn’t said it to be cruel or to disparage Lena’s own wealthy status. It wasn’t about that.

It was simply an honest statement.

One which revealed far more about Kara’s financial woes than she had ever let anyone find out. Not even Alex knew how Kara struggled to afford the food costs that came with being Supergirl. Alex had never joined the dots that Kara’s increased power usage would require an increased calorie count.

One which Kara frequently struggled to afford.

Lena, however, had already made the connection if the unsurprised look on her face at Kara’s response was anything to go by.

“What would it take for you to let me pay for it?” Lena questioned cutting right to the chase.

Kara was suddenly struck with the clarity that this was why Lena had requested to come with her to the supermarket in the first place.

“No, Lena, you can’t.” Kara rejected without even bothering to consider it as an option.

“Why not?” Lena tilted her head to the side expectantly, obviously wanting a clear cut reason, “Is it pride?”

“You’re my friend.” Kara reasoned futilely.

“Your friend, who wants to help.” Lena pointed out.

“It’s too much.” Kara tried instead.

“It’s food, Kara.” Lena said simply, “It’s a basic necessity that is never too much.” Lena reached out and placed a hand atop of Kara’s one that was tightly gripping her list of food that she could afford. Lena’s touch was gentle and grounding. “It is the bare minimum especially considering all you do for this city.”

Kara shook her head, dropping her gaze to the ground, “I don’t do that expecting anything in return.”

“I know that, that’s one of the reasons why I-” Lena’s voice cut off causing Kara to look up sharply at her, “Just...” Lena huffed out a breath of frustration, “Just tell me what it would take.”

“Lena…”

“What would it take?” Lena pushed.

“Why does it matter so much?” Kara asked instead of answering, switching the focus around. “I’ve been fine for years like this, Lena. Why does it matter?”

“Why does it matter?!” Lena spluttered, looking positively outraged. “It matters because it’s you. It matters because you deserve to have as much food as you need without worrying about paying rent. It matters because you matter. It matters because I-” Lena paled, biting down on her bottom lip hard.

“Because you?” Kara whispered, blue eyes wide with shock and hope as her heart hammered against the cage of her chest.

Lena opened and closed her mouth, her whole body tense and rigid before she exhaled deeply causing her entire being to deflate in acceptance and her head to hang, depriving Kara of bright green, “We promised each other honesty.” Lena muttered helplessly to herself, before she raised her chin determinedly, “Because I love you.”

The whole world went still. Everything went quiet. And Kara completely forgot how to breathe as Lena, yet again, took that first step of vulnerability. Yet again ventured forward, tearing down her own walls, to do something Kara didn’t know how to do.

Rao, Kara was in total awe of this woman.

This woman she adored. This woman that loved her.

This woman that made her want to strip away all her armour so that all of her could feel what it was like to bask in the presence of the one and only Lena Luthor.

“It matters for all the other reasons I said as well.” Lena continued, utterly unaware of how she had caused Kara’s entire being to unravel. “But it also matters because I love you and I can’t do nothing, Kara. I can’t do nothing when I have the very means to help you. So, please, please, please just tell me what it would take. Tell me what-”

Lena’s demands were cut off yet again.

Though this time it wasn’t her own doing, but Kara’s.

Kara’s lips pressed against hers to be exact.

It was there in the bread aisle of the local supermarket that Kara Zor-El did the first thing in her life solely as and for herself. The first time that Kara Zor-El was simply Kara Zor-El with no barriers, no armour, no secrets… and the free version of her wanted nothing more than to kiss the woman she loved.

So she did.

And it was… transcendent…

Kara cupped Lena’s cheeks with her hands so, so, so gently. She wasn’t keeping her in place or even guiding, her palms were barely brushing Lena’s skin but Kara had never needed something so much, to feel like she had her whole world safely cherished in her hands.

Lena’s lips were soft and pliable and Kara took so much care in mapping them out. Finding out how to slot their lips so that they fit perfectly together. Where to apply pressure to cause Lena’s breath to stutter. How to coax Lena’s lips gently open with the lightest swipe of her tongue.

Kara eventually pulled back an infinitesimal distance, parting so that their lips were just out of touch and their foreheads resting against each other.

“Marry me.” Kara breathed out.

“What?” Lena gasped, jerking backwards, green eyes wide and kiss-swollen lips parted in shock.

Kara laughed gleefully as she dropped her hands away from Lena’s face to wrap them around the other woman’s waist and pull her close.

“Did… did you-” Lena stuttered.

“Answer your question.” Kara grinned, pressing swift and delicate kisses to Lena’s jaw.

“My question?” Lena murmured, turning her head to the side to allow Kara a path down her neck.

“What would it take.” Kara muttered, nipping at Lena’s tendon and producing a sharp intake of breath. “For you to buy the whole store for me every other week.”

“Oh…” Lena leaned back to arch a sharp eyebrow at the blonde as a mischievous smile took over her face, “Well, now I have a goal to work towards.”

Kara’s eyes crinkled at the edges with joy, “Yeah, I guess you do.”

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years ago

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Sub Rosa [58]

xiii. praimfaya

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: angst, mentions of radiation sickness/poisoning, injuries, stitching up wounds.

Summary: the end is near, praimfaya approaches. a last minute plan to go to space leaves your small group scrambling to get ready in time.

a/n: IT’S HERE THE FINALE IS HERE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK BC IT HELPS ME A LOT TO DETERMINE IF THERE IS INTEREST IN SUB ROSA CONTINUING!!! OKAY I LOVE YOU LITTLE MOONS!!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 21st, 2150; Becca’s Lab; less than 2 hours until Praimfaya

The planning that goes into sending 9 people into space is a lot more intense than you expected. You spend the next couple of hours trying to figure everything out, get the rocket modified, and informing those in the bunker of your plans. Right now, you are in the office with Bellamy, sitting near the radio, talking to Octavia. He just told her everything, down to the smallest of your plans, letting her know exactly what challenges you’re facing, and she seems surprised that you’re even doing this. “Five years. Can you really survive up there?”

“Raven says we can. As soon as it's safe, we'll find a way back down. We will meet again.”

“I'll be waiting…” She pauses, giving the moment a dramatic effect before finishing, “Under the floor.”

“You're not that little girl anymore.” He sits back, waiting for her response, met with nothing but silence. He glances at you and then over to the radio, his brotherly instincts kicking in. “What is it, O?”

“I'm not sure I'm up for this, Bell. They look at me like I know what I'm doing, just because I won a fight.”

“They look at you like that because you saved them, but it won't last. Now you have to lead.”

“How? I'm not a leader. It should be you or one of the twins or-”

He cuts her off, nipping the insecurity in the bud. “O, stop. None of us could've done what you did, and it wasn't just winning a fight. You gave people hope when there was none. You're Prometheus, stealing fire from the gods and giving it back to the human race.”

You smile at your history nerd, proud of his metaphor, and Octavia jokes, “Prometheus got chained to a rock so that eagles could eat his liver.”

“Thanks for ruining my metaphor, O.”

You and Bellamy laugh, and you can hear Octavia laughing on the other end before she gets serious again. “I love you, big brother. Guess it takes the end of the world for me to say it.”

He drops his head, and you can see him fighting back tears, after weeks of desperately wanting to hear the words from his little sister. “I love you, too.”

He lets go of the button, and a static that wasn't there before comes through, growing louder and quieter every few seconds. Bellamy looks at the radio in confusion, and then fear, as he questions, “O? Hey, O, are you there?”

When she doesn't answer, he fiddles with the dials, and you stand from your chair nearby and come to settle beside him on the couch, placing your hand on his thigh as he repeats, “Are you there, O?”

When nothing comes through, he drops his head again, the tears threatening to fall, before he pushes them away and whispers, “May we meet again.”

You echo, “May we meet again.”

The door to the office opens and Clarke steps inside, looking happy, blissfully unaware that the radio cut out before you could talk to your mom. She smiles at you, “Hey, do they have her?”

“The radio's dead, we won't get to say goodbye to mom.”

Her face falls at your words and you stand and walk over to her, pulling her into a hug as she starts to cry. You comfort her, feeling your own wash of sadness, and you feel Bellamy place his hand on your shoulder, allowing you to draw strength from him. The moment doesn't last for long though, because Murphy yells from down in the lab, “Twins of Terror, Bellamy, get down here!”

You all run out of the office and down the stairs into the lab, stopping beside the others to watch the giant screens in front of you. One of Becca’s drones is situated outside of Polis, filming the tower, and in the background you can see Praimfaya approaching, the large, fiery death wave barreling towards the tower. You reach out and grab Bellamy’s and Clarke’s hands, all three of you connected as you watch the death wave cover the tower, before it knocks out the drone itself, ending the signal.

Your stomach drops as the transmission ends, aware that now, all 9 of you are well and truly alone, with no help or assistance coming from your friends and family. Raven stares at the blank screen, her voice a horrified whisper. “It's 210 miles from Polis to the island. According to what was our last drone, the wave is accelerating.”

This new challenge hits her, making her think, and she starts to whisper a list of things that need to be done for this mission to be successful. “If we're not off the ground at least 20 minutes before it hits, the electromagnetic charge in the pyroclastic cloud will shut down the rocket's avionics, meaning it won't fly. That gives us 90 minutes to run a 6 hour preflight check, retrieve the oxygen generator from the lighthouse, turn a cockpit designed for two into one that can carry 9, and load the cargo hold with enough food to keep us from starving in space while we wait for algae to bloom.”

Murphy quips, “I thought you said it was gonna be hard.”

“That's not the hard part. Becca designed her rocket to dock with Polaris, not the Ark. That means I have to pilot it into the hangar bay on the ring.”

Harper looks towards Raven, shaking her head in confusion. “What's so hard about that?”

“That's not the hard part, either.”

Clarke starts to grow exasperated and she looks over at Raven. “What is the hard part, Raven?”

“Assuming we blast off in time, CO2 scrubbers on a two person rocket won't support 9 of us.”

You shrug, “So, we use supplemental oxygen.”

Monty informs you, and the group, what makes that a challenge. “Our tanks only hold an hour of air.”

“Correct. We'll have one hour to get into orbit, land in the hangar bay, and fire up the life support system using an oxygen generator built to supply a lighthouse bachelor pad.”

Murphy looks over at Raven and deadpans, “You suck at talking people into things. You know that, right?”

“Anyone here still need to be talked into this?” Bellamy looks around at everyone, waiting for each of you to shake your head no before he looks at Raven. “Good. Now we know the many ways we might die today, why don't you tell us what we have to do to live?”

Raven turns to the monitor and pulls up a 90 minute timer for all of you to keep an eye on, before she starts to hand out assignments. “Monty and Murphy, I need the two of you to go to the lighthouse bunker and get the oxygen generator.”

She hands them the tools they’ll need and the two boys nod and quickly begin their journey. Raven turns to Harper, Emori, and Echo. “I need you three to help me get the rocket ready, run the preflight check, and pack up the food.”

They nod, awaiting further instruction, before she turns and looks over at you, Bellamy, and Clarke. “I need you to go over the plans again, thoroughly, and make sure all the calculations are correct. Otherwise, this is all for nothing. Everything is up top on the next level of the lab.”

She points you to where you need to go, and all three of you immediately head there and start to comb over the plans, schematics, and data laid out before you, ensuring everything seems correct. You’ve run through it at least three times before Bellamy gets distracted, and walks away from the table, looking out over the lab, over to where the others are preparing the rocket. You look over at him, watching him, as Clarke begins again. “So, let's go over this again. I figure two months until the algae farm produces enough food to feed us. If we ration the MREs, we should get there.”

She looks over at you and Bellamy, realizing you’re not listening, and she sighs. “I’m going to take a break. Be back in a few.”

You nod and watch as she heads towards the stairs into the main part of the lab, and you walk over to where Bellamy is standing at the railing, nervously tapping his fingers. When he sees you approach, he smiles, and shakes his head in disbelief. “Grounders in space, it's an oxymoron.”

“It was the only choice.” You smile and shrug, “Only choice, also an oxymoron, by the way.”

He turns towards you, eyes anxiously scanning over you, the way he seems to do every hour since you coughed up blood in the snow. He runs his hand over the top of your head, to the sweat gathered there, and pulls a face. “So is cold sweat. I’m still holding out hope for that Nightblood solution.”

“Seems like there was never any solution. I guess Alie was right about that.”

“Hey, Our fight isn't over, not yet.”

You shrug again, thinking of your mom’s vision that she seems so convinced of. Clarke seems to feel the same way, because every mention of it leaves her worried. “My mom had a vision of me and Clarke dying, apparently just like the one Raven had that told her there was a rocket here.”

“It is not the same thing.”

“Maybe not. But they were both EMP'd.”

“Abby will be fine, Raven told her how to stop it.”

You shake your head, Bellamy still not understanding. Maybe you’ve evaded Death too many times before and this really is it. If it is, not many people get the chance to say goodbye to the love of their life, and you’re starting to feel like you should take this rare opportunity and remind him how you feel. “That's not what I'm talking about. If anything happens to me-”

He immediately cuts you off, not wanting to hear this conversation. “Nothing is happening to you.”

He tries to walk away, deflecting, distracting, motioning towards the charts on the table. “Come on, let's run these water numbers again.”

You reach out and grab his hand, your voice and expression pleading. “Please, Bellamy, I need you to hear this.”

You wait and he nods, letting you know he’ll give you this one goodbye. You take a deep breath and begin, “You and I have been through a lot together. The moment I met you in the halls of the Ark, I thought you were an asshole. That didn't change once we got to the ground, but somehow, someway, I found myself hating you less and less with each passing day. I never would have thought that the guy that threatened me my first day on the ground would turn out to be the love of my life, but I’m so glad you are. I’m so thankful for every second that I’ve gotten to spend with you. I have loved seeing you grow from a selfish asshole into a caring leader, always willing to do anything to save his people. I trust you, I trust your heart, I trust your decisions. The only thing I ask, is that you watch your emotions, check on how you feel. Sometimes your heart rules you, my stormy love, and you make rash decisions based on how you feel. Step back, evaluate everything, and do what’s best for everyone. That’s how we’ll survive, that’s how we’ll deserve to survive.”

Tears well up in his eyes as you talk to him, eventually spilling down his cheeks as you say what might be your last goodbye. He pulls you towards him, into a kiss, pushing his feelings into it. You feel his wet tears graze your cheeks as he reminds you of his love for you, making sure you never forget that you have his heart and that he’s better for it. When he pulls away, you realize that you’re now crying too, suddenly faced with the idea that you don't want to die, you don't want to be without him. But sometimes, these things lie in the lap of the gods, and you can't control it. If Death is coming for the Bringer of Death, then so be it.

Unfortunately, a soft moment can never stay a soft moment on the ground, because chaos always strikes at some point. This moment is no exception, as a giant zapping sound comes from inside the rocket, followed by Raven’s loud cry of anger. You and Bellamy turn to look at the rocket in alarm before you run down the stairs, meeting up with Clarke at the bottom before you run over to the rocket and peek inside, looking down at Raven who is waving smoke away from her head. “Raven, what is it?”

“Oh, there isn't enough time. We're pushing too hard.”

Bellamy shakes his head, giving her a concerned look. “What's happening?”

She ignores him and calls out, “Computer, systems check.”

“Launch system...optimal. Navigation system...optimal. Life support system...assessing damage.”

Raven waves off the worry she sees crossing your faces. “It's okay, we're using supplemental, anyway.”

“All life support systems are offline.”

She nods, holding a finger up at the three of you. “Just wait, two more.”

“Landing system...optimal. Communication system...assessing damage.” She drops her head, looking slightly worried as she awaits the verdict. “All communication systems are offline.”

“Recommend repair options for communication system.”

Harper looks her way, not understanding your pilot’s worry. “Who cares? There's no one to talk to, anyway.”

“Quiet.”

“Damage is beyond repair. Total system replacement required.”

Raven sits frozen in place, staring off into the distance, and Bellamy looks at her, concerned. “Talk to us, Raven.”

“We're not going anywhere.” She looks over at the fried panel, before she storms out of the rocket, yelling at the computer as she leaves, “Computer, terminate launch sequence.”

You, Bellamy, and Clarke exchange a worried look before you all hurry after her, and Harper, Emori, and Echo join you as you come to a stop around Raven. She’s staring down at a tablet in her hand, and you try to get her attention. “Raven, explain.”

“It's simple, there's no power in the ring. Two minutes ago, I thought it wasn't a problem because I could activate it remotely.”

Clarke nods her head, starting to understand. “Over the rocket's comms system.”

Bellamy shrugs, and tries to offer a solution, “So we turn the power on from the inside. “

“We can't get inside, that's the point. Without power, we can't even open the hangar door.”

Clarke steps closer to her, trying to diffuse the situation. “Raven, think. You've solved bigger problems than this before.”

“Oh, yeah, not in 53 minutes.”

“Raven-”

She cuts her off, plopping down onto the stairs to the rocket with defeat. “It's over, Clarke! You know, maybe if I still had Alie's code eating away at my brain, I could figure it out. I'm not smart enough myself.”

Clarke turns around, looking lost at what to say, and you all turn to Bellamy, knowing he’s the best at pep talks. He accepts the role and sits down beside Raven, his voice soft. “Raven, you can do this. How many times have you saved our asses before you ever even heard of Alie?”

“Too many to count.”

“You're damn right. We don't need Alie on the Ark, we need you.” Something about his words stop her falling tears, and she stares at him, clearly working through something in her head. “What?”

She jumps up very suddenly, pacing around your small group. “Alie was on the Ark, Alie was on the Ark! I was right there, so close to the kill switch, but she got away by transmitting herself to the ring.”

Emori nods, remembering. “Using the pod in the temple.”

“Yes! If she can do it, so can we.”

You look at her, not sure how she expects to get to the pod in the temple. “Raven, we'll never make it back to Polis on time, and the radios are dead.”

“We have something better than radios: the satellite tower.” She turns and points to Echo, Emori, and Harper. “You three, back in the cockpit, finish those restraints.”

They immediately follow her directions and climb back into the rocket, and she turns to you, Clarke, and Bellamy. “You three, helmets on. You're with me.”

She starts to walk away, but she remembers there's one last thing to do first. “Computer, resume launch sequence!”

“Resuming launch sequence.”

She grabs her helmet and the three of you grab yours, following her out of the lab and to the surface, her tablet still in hand, and she stops outside in the snow, pointing to the tower in the distance. “The tower's less than a mile away. All you have to do is plug this into the junction box at the base of the tower. Sat-Star-One is the name of the dish.”

She hands the tablet to Clarke, and you repeat back, “Sat-Star-One.”

“Everything is set. Once the tablet is connected, the dish will align itself with the Ark. The graphic will flash green, and that's how you know it's locked on. When it says 'send', you hit send, and the power up signal will turn on the lights, and that's it. Are there any questions?”

She finishes her instruction with a smile, leaving the three of you a little unsettled given the gravity of the situation. “Yeah, why are you smiling?”

“Because without comms, even with the power on, we still can't open the hangar bay door from inside the rocket.”

Bellamy shakes his head, his helmet shifting slightly from the movement. “Wait. How is that a good thing?”

Clarke connects the dots first. “She gets to take her space walk.”

Movement behind Raven pulls all of your eyes in that direction, watching as an orange suited figure climbs over the snow and runs towards you, struggling with a large machine part in their hands. You all run towards them, recognizing Murphy, who puts the machine down at your feet as you look around for the other man he was with. “Murphy, where's Monty?”

Murphy glances up at Bellamy, struggling to catch his breath. “He's in trouble, he had to expose his hands. He passed out. If we go back now, we can get to him.”

Bellamy looks over at you, expression worried and Murphy quips, “You can be impressed with me later, we gotta go.”

Raven picks up on the indecision in the group, turning to tell Bellamy, “Aligning the dish is a two person job at best, the twins can handle it. Harper will help me with the generator. Go!”

They start to run off, the ticking countdown making all of you too anxious and too eager. You call out to Bellamy before he gets too far, “Bellamy-”

He spins around, practically buzzing with nervous energy. “If this is one of those moments where you tell me to stop and think-”

You cut him off, “No, I was just gonna say, hurry. And that I love you.”

The words never fail to soften him, and ease some of his anxiety. “I love you more than the stars. See you in a few.”

You nod and he turns and runs into the woods, following Murphy, and you watch them until they’re out of sight as Raven hands Clarke a pack. “Monty's pack, everything's inside. It's gonna take you a good 10 minutes to get back from the tower and down to the cockpit. You have to leave that tower with 10 minutes on the clock or you'll both be left behind.”

Clarke tries to hide the anxiety in her voice, but fails as she checks her timer and sees 25 minutes on the countdown. “Ten minutes, we got this.”

You give Raven one last look, “Any last advice?”

“Yeah, run fast.”

And that’s all she has to say to push you and Clarke into gear. The two of you take off running towards the tower, ignoring the struggle of running in the snow in clunky suits. You can feel your earlier radiation poisoning wanting to slow you down, but you ignore it, determined to make it there and back in time. Your path takes you to the top of a small hill, the tower just at the bottom of it, and you lift your timer to check the time. “Eleven minutes.”

You and Clarke exchange a worried look before you scramble down the small hill to the panel of the tower, and you pull it open while Clarke grabs the tablet from the pack. You scan the names, looking for the right one, excited when you see it. “Sat-Star-One!”

You point to the right outlet and she plugs the cord in, both of you looking towards the tablet with excitement. But your excitement turns to frustration when the computer beeps, “Dish not aligned. Dish not aligned.”

“What did we do wrong?!”

“I don't know, radio for help!”

Clarke grabs the radio from the pack and frantically calls out, “Raven, please say that you can hear me. Something went wrong. We did everything you said, but it wouldn't-” Something on the door of the panel catches her eye and she reads outloud, “Manual operation? You've got to be kidding me.”

You both look up the tower, to the very top, where the dish is situated, before you exchange a look, knowing what you have to do. When you check the time on your countdown, it’s ten minutes on the dot. If both of you want to survive, you have to leave now. But if you leave now, you’ll all die in space, unable to get in the Ark. Clarke pushes the radio into your hand and starts to unplug the tablet, “Get back to the rocket, I’ll meet you there.”

“No, I’m not leaving you!”

“If you don’t, you’ll die!”

You grab her hand, holding her in place. “Mom’s vision had both of us dying. If this is it, then this is it. No avoiding it now. Stronger together.”

“Stronger together.” She repeats it back to you, accepting this, before she moves over to the ladder and starts to climb. Before you follow her, you lift the radio. “Bellamy...if you can hear me, don't wait. I love you, so so much.”

You run over to the ladder and start to climb up behind your twin, watching as you climb higher and higher. Each rung that brings you higher into the sky brings you a better glimpse of the approaching death wave, growing more terrifying the higher you get. Each time your arms move to pull you higher, you get a glimpse of the countdown, and when you’re halfway up, you whisper, “Oso gonplei ste odon.”

Our fight is over. Finally, the two of you reach the top, just as the timer on your wrist starts to beep, signaling that you’re out of time. Less than a minute later, you hear a sound tearing through the air, followed closely by the rocket, launching into the sky. You and Clarke both watch it, left behind, and you feel emotion start to grab you and choke you. Clarke reaches out and squeezes your hand, reminding you, “They’re not safe yet. Not until we get the power on.”

You nod and turn towards the control panel, watching as Clarke plugs in the tablet again, the computer repeating, “Dish not aligned. Dish not aligned.”

Clarke smacks the side of the panel, growing frustrated, “Come on, turn!”

She looks up at the dish, and you catch onto her line of thinking, already reaching towards the ladder that will take you up to the satellite. “Tell me where to go, Clarke!”

You climb up to the dish and start to pull it towards you, the satellite pointing into the sky. You hear it make a clicking sound, and you look down at Clarke, who calls out, “Good, now push it forward!”

You do as she says, pushing the satellite forward, pointing it towards the ground, until you hear another click. You look down for more direction, and she yells, “Pull it back again!”

You pull it back again, using all of your strength to get it as far back as possible, until you hear the third and final click. When you look down at Clarke, she screams, “Yes! Dish aligned!”

You lower yourself back down to her, just as she hits the send button. The two of you watch the green bar load, the message taking an agonizingly long time to send, until finally it goes through, a small little message popping up in the corner. “Sent!”

Both of you hug the best you can given the suits still on your body, pulling away when you realize the growing roar of something fast approaching. You look out towards the sky again, the death wave now horrifyingly close, and the two of you exchange a terrified look before Clarke yells, “Go, go, go!”

The two of you scramble down the ladder faster than you thought was humanly possible, running and stumbling through the snow, trying to escape Praimfaya, which seems to stay right at your backs. As you near the lab, the death wave roaring right behind you, Clarke stumbles and falls, the distinct sound of breaking glass heard as she hits the ground. You reach out for her and grab her, and at the same time she tries to jump to her feet, causing the two of you to collide in an awkward way, the broken glass of her helmet tearing into the left suit of your arm. You let out a cry of pain, the glass cutting into your skin, before both of you clamp a hand over your exposed areas and take off running again, nearly at the door to the lab.

The death wave seems to overtake you both as you reach the door, and Clarke pulls it open, stumbling inside. You run in after her, pulling the door closed, both of you slipping and sliding inside on wet, snowy shoes. Clarke stumbles to the table you were running numbers at less than two hours earlier, and she tugs off her helmet, instantly coughing up blood. Her face is covered in lesions, red and angry, and she stumbles once, before falling to the ground, unconscious. You run over to her and try to lift her, but the movement tugs on your arm, forcing you to cry out in pain. You check and make sure Clarke’s still breathing before you do anything else, and once you’re sure she’s still alive, you pull yourself from your suit, screaming as the suit takes some of your skin with it.

The cut on your arm definitely needs stitches, black blood dripping from the wound and running over the lesions on your arm, and you fumble around for a first aid kit, already feeling weak and sick. You sob with pain the entire time you stitch up your arm, doing the best you can as the stitches tug and pull on the fragile skin. Finally, once the wound is closed, the last bit of your energy spent, you lay back on the ground beside Clarke, lightheaded from radiation, blood loss, and pain. And as unconsciousness creeps up on you slowly, reaching out to drag you under, you look up at the ceiling, imagining the sky above, the Ark floating across it. Just as the darkness starts to take you, you whisper, “In this lifetime, and in the next.”

Somewhere in the sky, swimming amongst the stars, Bellamy Blake stands in the viewing window of the Ark, staring down at the Earth below, covered in a toxic death wave. Tears fall down his face, thinking of the love of his life, swallowed whole by radiation, and he chokes out, “Forever.”

next chapter

#the 100 #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #the 100 rewrite #the 100 4x13

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a-third-attempt · 4 years ago

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A/N: Presented on the occasion of @momochrome‘s birthday.

Inzee is an OC of @momochrome. Source (at her writing blog)

Warnings: Claustrophobia implied, angst with a happy ending. (3240 words)

* * *

“I need to tell you something.”

“Anything, angel.”

You’d known this was coming. He’d been out of sorts for days. Unusually quiet and slow to respond. Calling a rain check for date night. Even his quiet time tending the garden every morning didn’t seem to be bringing him the peace that it had before.

Today, Inzee was slumped over the kitchen table, gray-skinned head resting between two massive webbed hands. He wasn’t upset, you noted, the markings on the back of his head bore only the faintest bit of color. But his pointed ears seemed to tell a different story, drooping down. You sat down next to him and smiled patiently.

He sat with furrowed brow, collecting his thoughts, giving you plenty of time to look him over and be struck once again by how large he was. You had met other Eistirs over the last few years on Enphe, which is how you came to realize that Inzee wasn’t considered particularly muscular. Still, a lifetime of space work had kept him in shape, and what passed for lithe strength on this planet was positively enormous by Human standards. He stood well over two meters tall, with arms as thick around as your thighs and a body to match.

“I’m glad we decided to settle down.” He hesitated, his four eyes fixed on you, nervously watching for your reaction. “But I’ve got to fly again.”

“What do you mean?”

He grunted. “I’m just going stir-crazy from being grounded for this long. I haven’t sat around on Enphe for more than one orbit since I was a child.”

Like you, he’d gone to space as soon as he could, following that ephemeral string into the sky, hoping beyond hope that he would find where it led. That was where the similarities ended. Somehow, he seemed to enjoy it, which had always been baffling to you. Your experiences of space travel were spartan, weeks if not months of cramped quarters, bad food, and poor hygiene. When you were in Terran-charted space, you at least had a crew to keep you company. But most of your years of travels were spent far beyond it, in torturous solitude. Components were damaged with each jump, and the hours that you weren’t spending repairing the tin can were filled with tedious calculations to properly chart your course. That far out, the navigation systems were nearly useless. When they broke along with everything else after the nebula jump, you didn’t even bother to repair them.

“Do you not like it here?” You knew the answer, but you still didn’t understand what he was getting at.

“My sweetheart, you wound me.” He clutched his chest, and you flashed a faint smile. He seemed to be feeling a little better than when you’d first come out, at least. “I love it here. I think I’d love anywhere if you were there. Somehow I just need—” Suddenly his eyes drooped, too ashamed to look at you anymore. “I mean I thought I was just out there searching for you. But maybe I was looking for something else, too, or else this feeling should have gone away, right?”

You nodded slowly. It made sense. You might have been the talkative one, making friends everywhere you went, but he had always been more inclined to adventure. You worked well together, as soulmates should, quickly collecting a large group of like-minded friends all around the world. Soon your leisure time had been positively filled with friendly banter and silly games, and with the effortless travel afforded by Eistir teleporters, there was no shortage of sights to see. At first you had assumed that he was taking you to his favorite spots, but he confessed that most of the time he was visiting for the first time too. I’ve been all around the galaxy, he said, shaking his head, but I’d never known my own backyard.

That life of your dreams had turned into a lump in your throat. How long had he felt this way? He had leased his ship when you agreed to settle back onto his homeworld, when you both thought that your days of flying were behind you. Suddenly, those terrestrial travels seemed like a paltry replacement for extraplanetary flights he could no longer have. Why hadn’t he said anything? Did he not trust you?

No, no. That didn’t matter. He was telling you now. He trusted you now, and judging by the look on his face, he needed you now. You could worry about the past some other time.

You reached over to rub his shoulder, and ducked your head to meet his gaze. “Inzee, look at me. I love you.” He smiled, ears twitching. Every time. “You know how I feel about flying. But honestly, you’ve been a mess recently, and it breaks my heart to see you unhappy. So if you need to take a trip every once in a while, we can do that.”

He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but his skin brightened a bit more, cupping your hand in his. “You’re really okay with it? I don’t know how much time I’ll need. I could be gone for a while.”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. “Honestly, angel, I don’t know. I have some really dark memories of being in a ship. But you’ll be there this time, which will help.” He bumped his forehead against yours, one of his cute little gestures that never failed to charm. “Or at least, we can try. I mean, this has to work out somehow, right? We’re soulmates, for god’s sake,” you said, twanging at the string that bound the two of you.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He pulled away, sighing. “Well, I would rather get my old ship back, if I can. That’ll probably take a while.” He looked you over with concern. He would never say that he didn’t believe you, but you both knew that there was more to be said. “Maybe I can start working on that, and you can think about it? Make sure you’re okay with me being gone for a while?”

“Being gone—?” He couldn’t possibly think that you would be staying home? “I’m going with you, you do know that, right?”

“What?” He seemed genuinely shocked. “No, I’m not going to ask you to go back on a ship again, you’ve made it plenty clear—”

A fire rose in your gut; you could hardly believe what you were hearing. “Listen, Inzee.” He snapped to attention at your sharp tone. “I dragged this tiny Human body halfway across the galaxy just to find you. And there isn’t a darn thing in it that could pry you out of my sight for a second.” He gulped, and then, much to your amusement, shivered. It made sense. He wouldn’t be used to hearing that voice in the daylight. You were tempted to push him further, but reluctantly waved the thought away. Plenty of time for that later. This was serious.

But he must have smelled your thoughts, because he completely failed at concealing his laughter. Shaking his head, he whispered, “Oh, what could I possibly have done to deserve you?”

You grinned. “Do you want an itemized list?”

* * *

It did, indeed, take a while. Days passed and then blurred together as the long series of infuriating telecoms and paper trails paraded on. The red tape brought out a side of Inzee that you had never seen before, not just tenacious but assertive. He navigated the Eistir bureaucracy with an efficiency and ruthlessness that was almost frightening. And, ultimately, effective. After an eternity of wrangling, he managed to wrest back control of his old ship from the rental agency.

On the morning that everything was official, he could hardly contain his excitement. He put a blindfold on you and stepped you through the teleporter, its buzzing sensation a long-familiar nuisance.

"Okay, take it off!”

As soon as the blindfold fell, you were immediately knocked breathless.

The two of you stood on a grated platform that ran along the rim of a gigantic circular room with vaulted ceilings. Sitting in the center you saw the characteristic green wireframe of a holographic starmap. It was massive, at least twice as big as any you had seen, and the room had clearly been sculpted around it; the projection equipment tucked into the arch of the ceiling, control panels on all three levels of the platform. The far side of the room was a window— a single curved sheet of glass that must have been at least two stories tall. At its edges, it faded into elegant yellow walls covered in vast black screens, woven together by veins of blue and purple crystals and a dizzying array of bright buttons. Eistir script flashed on a few of the screens, some projecting smaller holograms of their own. The room was silent, save the quiet whirring of the machinery and the occasional beeps of a droid buzzing overhead.

“Welcome aboard,” he said, his thick arms squeezing your side.

“This is your ship? It’s as big as our whole house!”

“No, I don’t, don’t think so.” His skin flushed blue. “I mean, the boy is, it’s probably, it’s not quite as—”

You hit him playfully on his side. “Jeez, you idiot! Why did you ever give this up?”

He cupped his hand around his ear, all eyes looking at the floor. “Well, I didn’t need it, anymore, once you found me, you know, and anyway, you didn’t seem so keen on flying— and I didn’t really give it up, I guess— we got it back, you see?”

You barely registered his stammered response, still taking in the grand scale of it all. “Oh, sweet heavens, I would have given the whole galaxy to fly on your ship.” His stories flooded back into your mind, and finally standing in the bright, open space, their reckless enthusiasm suddenly made sense. Of course you would love to fly if you got to fly in this beauty! This wasn’t a budget rocket slapped together to get you one or two jumps away. This was a ship made for adventure.

No, not quite, you remembered. It was, in fact, a science ship, designed for acquiring and testing specimens. You whipped your head around, looking for where the experiments might be run. But as far as you could tell, everything you saw looked like navigational equipment. “Where do you keep your collections?”

His markings glowed, intense with regret. Oh. Right. Immediately you embraced him, resting your head on his cool skin. “I’m sorry.”

The ship had been rented out, and the new astronauts would probably have collections of their own, so his had to be dealt with. He figured the data would be useful to someone, so he spent many long afternoons cataloguing everything; giving the local scientists anything they would take, and carefully documenting the rest. You had begged him to just bring them home and be done with it, but he insisted that he didn’t have the equipment to store them. He was so torn up about it, but there was nothing to be done.

“It’s okay,” he said, quietly. He wrapped you up in his arms and you savored his thick scent. “There’s a collections room.”

“There’s a what?” you demanded, jerking your head back. You were so taken aback, you’d forgotten that you were supposed to be soothing him. He tilted his head, confused.

“A… collections room? Uh, to keep everything organized?”

Your jaw dropped, and your eyes spun around the chamber. “There’s more?”

Finally understanding, he chuckled. “Ah. Yes, my love. Come on, I can give you the tour.”

“Holy shit.”

Your mind was reeling as you followed his lead along the grated platform. He turned abruptly and the wall parted, revealing a short corridor, not quite wide enough for both of you to fit at once. He took your hand in his and you walked through to the other end, where a similar portal opened into a new room.

And when he stepped in, it was Inzee’s turn to gasp.

“Impossible…”

You rubbed your eyes as you adjusted to the light. This room was admittedly less grandiose than the navigation room, although still beautiful in its own way. It was smaller, but possibly even taller, with locker-like doors of all sizes lining the walls. A mess of Eistir script was scrawled on most of them, although it had clearly been rubbed off several of the larger doors at your eye level, replaced with more careful, steady handwriting. It wasn’t much to look at, you thought, but your partner was shell-shocked.

“What is it, angel?”

“They couldn’t have left all of it.” He started pacing around the room, sliding his hands across the glyphed doors. His body trembled as he pressed on one and it hissed open, letting loose a puff of orange steam as a shelf slid out. “Sweet oceans, they did.” He pressed frantically on the doors, drawers and tanks emerging.

“I can’t believe it.” He jumped back to you and swept you off your feet, practically lifting you up in the air. “It’s all here!”

He was still shaking as he squeezed you. You grinned like an idiot to see him so happy. “I thought you cleared it out!”

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” He returned an embarrassed smile. “I made all the records and put a note in the system asking them to remove it. Maybe a bit rude, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually throw it away.”

You finally gave in to your curiosity and pressed a door open. The tray that emerged was dense with easily a hundred pencil-thin glass tubes. Some of them were empty, it looked like, while others were foggy and bore subtle colors. “Atmosphere samples,” he crooned, sliding one along the webbing between his fingers. “From the Kredar supersystem. A lot of gas giants.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, is each one a different planet?”

He laughed. “There’s a couple repeats, probably.” The words hit you like a truck. Nearly a hundred planets behind this one door. In a room filled with doors, wall to wall, floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe they left it all behind.”

You giggled, despite yourself. “You left it all behind.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m just teasing, angel,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’m going to make you tell me about every one.”

“Good thing I’ve already taken notes.” One of his eyelids closed clumsily, and you stifled another giggle. You’d been trying to teach him how to wink, and he still needed a bit of practice.

You slid over one of the ladders attached to the walls and climbed up a few rungs. “Hmm, what’s iiiiiin…” you waved your hand around a section of the doors. “this one?” You slapped one of the larger squares. It opened cleanly, with none of the fanfare of the others, and a glass box rolled out, filled to the brim with—

Lego?

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Inzee clutched his sides as he bowled over laughing, nearly falling on the floor. “Oh no! Don’t tell me you have those evil buggers too!”

You grabbed a handful of bricks. They were a little different than you were used to, lacking the familiar branding, some a bit misshapen. And they were clearly not all made from plastic. Some were metallic, others almost leathery. Throwing them back in the box, you glared at your partner, still wheezing on the ground below you. “What are you on about?”

He was gasping too hard to speak. You shook your head and hopped off the ladder, looking him in the eye as you shook him gently. You tried to appear unamused, but you weren’t sure if you were succeeding— it was adorable to see him like this, and his smile was infectious.

Eventually he calmed himself down enough to explain. “Nearly every race that we have made contact with has invented some version of those things. Not too hard to believe, I suppose, a toy for curious children that gets replicated across worlds.” He shook his head, another chortle busting through. “But you would think that someone would have found a way to make them that doesn’t hurt like hell when you step on them.”

“I cannot believe that the common thread uniting civilizations across the galaxy is fucking Lego.”

“Come on, that’s not the common thread. We all do language, water treatment, fusion, that kind of stuff.” Inzee snorted. “But yes, it is a incredible coincidence.”

“Oh, that gives me an idea. We should swing by Earth!” You frowned, one complication of that plan springing quickly to mind. “Well, it is pretty far away, we’d have to fly for a while. But you don’t already have Human-Lego, right? And I’m sure there’s other collections we could fill out, too.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful!” His markings swelled with blue, and he spread his arms wide in deference. “I would be honored to visit your homeworld.”

“How soon can we start?”

His eyes were so bright, you swore you could see by them. “What’s gotten into you, my love? Just a few days ago I thought you were ready to call off the whole thing entirely.”

“It’s your ship, Inzee. There’s so much light and space. I can breathe in here.” As if to demonstrate, you loudly inhaled through your nose. He shot you a bemused glance, and you stuck out your tongue. “Oh god, you should have seen the tin can I flew here in. If I could have had this, everything would have been better, I’m sure of it. This ship, your ship, it’s amazing.”

He had been soaking in your words with an awkward sort of pride, as if you had been praising him rather than his ship. Perhaps you had been. But at the end, his expression suddenly softened, and his skin glowed a bright red. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close.

“No, my love. You are amazing.” Towering over you, he leaned down to join his eager lips with yours. His hearts pounded blood through his body, and you felt them as if they were your own, the rhythm of the kiss synching to his hypnotic pulse. You nursed it, squeezing him as you deepened it, his quickening breath sending tingles up your spine.

Neither able nor willing to control yourself, you stepped forward, urging him toward the wall. He gave in to your demand just as instinctively, shrinking back further and further until you slammed him against the doors, pinning him down. He could surely have broken out had he wanted, but the blue heat radiating from his skin told you he had no such desire. This was a man bent on fulfilling your fantasies— or, rather, a creature, an Eistir— any interest you had in the details vanished completely as his silky hands slipped under your shirt, the light touch of his webbing teasing soft moans from your chest.

In retaliation, you slid your tongue into the fork of his, but when he tried to lean in, you pulled away completely. You smirked wickedly at his quiet whines, lifting his chin up with one finger and setting your gaze into his eyes. “Show me to the captain’s quarters, angel.”

#alien #alien boyfriend #exophilia #sci fi #fluff #speculative fiction #7d #18h #claustrophobia implied #angst implied #fiction #momochrome #demomonic murmurs #birthday #the writing process for this was very weird #some interesting challenges here #this probably wins for the story i've written #that involved the most brainstorming for the least change to my initial idea #still lots of fun

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violetwolfraven · 4 years ago

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Crossover Headcanons

((I know I have requests in my inbox but I just had to get this out of my head. Also I probably won’t be posting those requests for a while because my writer’s block is only barely starting to lift, so...))

Anyway this is gonna start off from one perspective and go to more later. Enjoy. 💜

Tw: past death, nightmares

...

So this is a... spin-off? Of the reincarnation au? An alternate timeline? A variant? Whatever it is the newsies are reincarnated and remember their past.

Also somehow most of them are going to the same college here, (I’m not going to say which one because I don’t want to research colleges right now) even if they’ve got a wide range of majors.

There’s only one dorm building even if people are only allowed to share a room with someone of the same gender.

This works out well for Elmer, because he’s pretty happy to be rooming with his boyfriend, Buttons.

But then he gets up to the floor their dorm is on and almost drops the box he’s holding.

Because it’s fuckin her. His national-level math nemesis since 11th grade. They’ve only faced off twice, the first time with her team winning and the second with his winning, but they’re each the only one who can beat the other in a math competition.

Elmer can see the shock in her eyes as she recognizes him and shouts YOU and then she’s stomping over to him aggressively enough that he’s pretty sure she wants to throw down physically.

Jack (who’s also on that floor with Davey) figures that too, and steps in front of him before she gets too close, but that girl acts like she doesn’t even notice him and shouts I WAS HALF A SECOND BEHIND YOU SOLVING THAT PROBLEM!

Elmer is kinda terrified but he defensively shoots back well I still solved it first and moves around Jack because this is his math nemesis and his fight.

The girl scowls at him for a couple more seconds then just sticks out her hand to shake, and Elmer realizes that he doesn’t actually know her name beyond the surname he’s seen on the back of her mathletes jacket. She introduces herself as Cady Heron.

Elmer Kazprzak, he responds, and Cady looks like she’s trying not to laugh, but he figures that’s probably fair, with how ‘Elmer’ was a common name in 1885 but not so much in 2003.

Jack clears his throat so Elmer introduces him but forgets that this isn’t their high school so things like oh this is Jack. He’s basically my dad. are weird.

Cady definitely thinks it’s weird but she doesn’t question it. Instead she just asks where Elmer is living, and it turns out, of course, he and Buttons are right next door to her and her roommate, Karen.

(I say Cady is living with Karen because Gretchen wanted to live with Regina and rules be damned Janis is with Damien.)

Elmer isn’t completely sure he’s not going to get murdered in his sleep but he guesses if he could handle the 1899 Newsboy Strike and World War I he can handle Cady Heron.

Meanwhile Katherine is going to Harvard so Sarah is rooming with someone she’s never met and she’s a little nervous.

And in stomps a girl who declares I’m a lesbian and if you have a problem with that tell me now so I can switch dorms.

And Sarah responds with my girlfriend out at Harvard would be pretty pissed at me if I did have a problem with that.

The girl lets her guard down, explains that she comes from a small town, and says her name is Alyssa Greene.

After that little bump, they get along good. Alyssa explains that her girlfriend, Emma, registered late and couldn’t get a dorm with who she wanted.

And Sarah’s just kinda like wait Emma as in Unruly Hearts Emma? Alyssa’s just like yeah!! I’m so proud of her!!

Sarah brags a bit about how Katherine is studying to be a journalist with a specialty in queer stories and long story short they become besties and eventually Alyssa introduces Emma for real and Sarah introduces Smalls and Sniper.

Emma and Alyssa are a bit thrown by the whole nickname thing but hey whatever now they have a Lesbian Club!

They do meet up with the boys occasionally but the Lesbian Club meets on a video call with Katherine every Saturday.

Anyway Jack meets Janis in art class and initially they kinda think each other is weird because their styles are very different but then they get in an actual conversation and get along amazingly.

Jack is definitely a fan of Janis’s philosophy of when someone hurts your friends you attack and grind your foe into the ground.

Janis tells her new bestie about Cady and Damien (and Regina, Gretchen, and Karen, though she still keeps Cady and Damien closer than the former Plastics) and she’s honestly shocked by the amount of friends Jack tells her about.

She does recognize some names, though. Romeo and Damien are both theatre majors and they’ve become friends.

But anyway Jack and Janis are like. Super good friends. Art buddies. Mlm/wlw solidarity. Protective friend pals.

Janis is pretty surprised when she introduces him to Cady and they’ve already met, and apparently oh fuck your math nemesis is Jack’s Elmer???

Jack’s just going oh fuck Elmer’s math nemesis Cady is Janis’s Cady???

Also Regina met Spot and Sarah at the gym and now they meet up with a few other people every other week to throw down like their own personal fight club.

At first Regina was just angrily trying to fight with no technique, but don’t worry, Spot and Sarah teach her.

There weren’t a ton of out gays at Northshore High, so yeah the Mean Girls crew definitely gets along with the Newsies crew out of solidarity.

Janis and at least one of the Plastics but I can’t choose which one(s) join the Lesbian Club.

Meanwhile Race is super hyped to meet Emma cause like I choreographed a dance to your song wanna see???

Emma is flattered but kinda weirded out and she mentions her friend Angie who’s a dancer too and Race is just *error 404*

Cause of course he saw the news story and knows Emma knows these 4 big Broadway stars but it just. Hasn’t connected until this moment that she like has their numbers.

He tries not to freak out too much cause he knows that’s weird but Emma eventually goes do you wanna meet her? And Race goes do I wanna meet her? She’s only my IDOL!! she’s been dancing like 20 years and she’s still got it!!

Emma calls Angie partially because she likes her new dancer friend and wants to make him happy and partially because she wants to prove to Angie that people do appreciate her zazz and despite how she was just a chorus girl until a few months ago this random boy from New York has been a fan since he was 12.

Angie can’t exactly fly over at the drop of a hat but she watches some videos on YouTube of Race dancing and like holy hell this kid is good. And his friends are too but this kid right here has zazz off the charts.

When she finds out he’s an orphan she’s lowkey can I adopt him??? but then she finds out he already has an adoptive mother and it’s Medda Larkin.

Medda Larkin who did more than a few shows with Angie when they were young but left Broadway to open her own theatre.

They fell out of touch years ago but still follow each other on Instagram and stuff.

But Angie shows Barry and Dee Dee and she’s super excited like remember Medda Larkin??? THIS IS HER ADOPTIVE KID AND HE’S AMAZING

And they watch YouTube clips of Emma’s new friends in high school shows and like wtf these kids are fuckin talented why aren’t they on Broadway???

They almost tell Emma to tell her friends to drop out of college and come straight (haha not that straight) to Broadway but Trent is like wtf no education is important.

Whatever the actors aren’t that relevant.

Sarah has a nightmare about her death one night. And with the others it’s not as big of a deal because they’re all rooming with each other, but Sarah’s roommate isn’t one of them.

She thinks Alyssa is asleep so she calls Katherine crying about how scared she was, how guilty she felt to be leaving her brothers and friends and Kath without a goodbye.

And Alyssa isn’t quite awake, but she’s awake enough that she hears Sarah whisper about how everything is just so stupid complicated. I shouldn’t be afraid of dying when I’ve done it before—when we’ve all died horribly—but I still am, Kitty. I can’t stop being afraid.

Alyssa is out of it enough that she falls back asleep, but when she wakes up she knows what she heard. That her roommate thinks she had a past life and died and implied that all her friends did.

Emma notices she’s acting weird and when she asks what’s wrong she tells her.

They both know it sounds crazy, but...

Emma tentatively points out some weird things about their friends from New York.

She’s study buddies with Race and occasionally he points something out she got wrong on her history homework. Something so small and inconsequential that it would’ve been almost impossible for him to know unless he was there and remembered from experience.

Smalls and Sniper have a habit of jumping apart if they were so much as holding hands and someone walks in on them, even though they come from a mostly accepting city with an accepting friend group.

That whole group straight up skipped history class the whole week they were learning about World War I and refused to make up the work.

They bring the half-baked theory to Janis who immediately remembers all the times she’s seen Jack draw small war-torn towns in France and dirty city streets and an outdated skyline as if seen from a rooftop, all of them too detailed to be anything but directly copied from something Jack has seen before.

But the question is if they’re drawn from a reference photo or a memory.

Cady realizes, upon hearing the theory, that Elmer and Buttons never take her up on offers to come to football games because they don’t like the noise.

More specifically, she remembers the look on her nemesis/frenemy’s face when he said he didn’t like fireworks.

Aaron notices that Davey always solves math problems by hand. He never uses a calculator unless someone reminds him it’s an option. And half the time, he defaults to using his right hand with terrible handwriting even though he’s left handed. Almost like he was raised with the whole ‘left hand devil’ thing, which doesn’t make sense because he went to a public school; not a religious one.

Damien realizes that Romeo has a habit of correcting the costume department, like he knows the period clothing for Hello, Dolly! better than they do. It annoys the hell out of them because upon some research, he is always right.

Regina notes how Spot and Sarah fight like they’re fighting for their lives in a street brawl. She knows that because she started taking karate in an attempt to win fights. She noticed months ago that her friends use technique that’s barely sustainable, like they’re just trying to stay alive until they can run or backup comes.

However all this is just fun and games, a crack theory they’re all mildly creeped out by but don’t really believe, until Gretchen finds it.

An article on the Newsboy Strike of 1899.

There’s a copy of the Newsies Banner, written by Katherine Plumber, which references strike leaders Jack Kelly and David Jacobs.

But they could write that off as just a creepy coincidence if not for the photo.

It’s the one Katherine and Darcy took that first day, which is in black and white and not the greatest quality, but clearly shows a lot of familiar faces.

A later story by this Katherine Plumber documents lives of street kids with interviews from kids with the same odd nicknames as the group they know.

Regina was the most cynical about this theory and even she can’t deny it now. There’s just too much evidence.

Especially when Karen finds Crutchie’s obituary, but Regina stops her from showing it to anyone else because that’s just too creepy.

The Mean Girls crew and Alyssa and Emma are... unsure if they should confront their friends about this, because a) this is freaky and b) the newsie gang is clearly still harboring trauma due to their deaths.

Plus, as Damien points out, being gay was illegal in 1899. Do you think they want a reminder of how they had to hide their feelings for each other back then?

Emma and Alyssa share a knowing look because they know what that’s like.

In the end Karen lets it slip when she asks Davey a question about her history homework involving World War II, mistakenly believing he was there.

Davey naturally questions her about it and she spills the entire story about how Alyssa heard Sarah’s phone call and they figured everything else out from there. She even shows him the article with the 1899 photo and the Newsies Banner.

And... shit, there’s a lot of memories behind that picture. And that’s them, over a hundred years ago, when they were kids and they weren’t all the same age like this time around.

The old Davey looks so big compared to Romeo and Elmer and god was Specs tall for a 15-year-old.

Davey didn’t even meet Smalls and Sniper in this lifetime until they were 16, but in that picture they’re only 13 and they’re so small.

A sidenote on Katherine has a picture of her in a hairstyle he hasn’t seen her in since 1917.

It’s a mixture between ptsd and nostalgia and Davey can’t decide whether to freak out or be happy.

He takes the article to Jack and tells him about how Gretchen found it and their non-reincarnated friends know.

Jack’s silently cursing the fact that he really should have been more careful with what he drew around Janis, but it’s kinda a relief that they know, honestly.

He shoots a quick text to the group chat and then turns his phone on do not disturb mode while he sits Janis down for a little chat.

He doesn’t go into graphic detail, but he does tell her an abridged version of everything. How they were basically a family and all lgbt+ in the early 20th century and how they died before their time and got a second chance.

It’s more than a little freaky for Janis, but it does explain a lot.

Such as how Jack demonstrates on a dare that he can still do some parkour because once upon a time, he used it to run from the cops.

Elmer tells Cady he’s so quick at math because he used to have to calculate change quickly and later had to help Jack and Davey come up with battle plans based on numbers vs tactics and terrain.

Regina definitely trusts Spot’s combat advice a lot more now because he was essentially a gang leader as a teenager and it has literally saved his life.

Race admits to Emma that her song made him cry because... in this lifetime he might not have had to be closeted, but in his last he was constantly worried about getting arrested or worse if people found out not just about him and his boyfriend, but his friends. His family.

Emma may or may not collaborate with him after that to write a song about how much it hurts to be closeted for your own safety and how much better it feels to be free to be who you are. Race dances in the music video and many of the other newsies make appearances but it’s mainly him and Emma. Spot and Alyssa cry when they see it. Damien does, too.

Who am I kidding everyone cries.

They get like 4 million hits on YouTube and it’s amazing.

The title is probably In the Light or something.

Also Cady, Aaron, Kevin, and Elmer form their own college level mathletes team and no one can beat them.

(Kevin’s not as close with the main group literally only because I don’t know that much about him as a character.)

(Also Stacy, Kailey, and whatever their boyfriends’ names are might be there somewhere but I don’t know them either.)

Katherine does get to meet the new kids in person eventually. And also I didn’t mention this earlier but Specs goes to Harvard too and he comes to visit too.

The power when the Lesbian Club finally gets to meet all in person? Unparalleled.

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cloveroctobers · 4 years ago

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ELISA FRANÇOIS —

IG info/bio: @/elisacoisbabe | 34.2k followers | why yes I’m shaking my ass while having a mental breakdown, mind ur business yeah?? 👸🏿

22 (23) years

Born in Louisiana, New Orleans

Has two sisters: Camille & Manon

Raised by her aunt & uncle in London, England

Does not address her birth parents as her real parents, her aunt & uncle hold that title & deff has a lot of anger towards her birth parents—to her they’re as good as d*ad

Haitian roots

Keeps her family life as private as she can, however her fans occasionally see her sisters on her channel

Social media influencer who got her start from posting makeup looks on her YouTube channel & her story times

Canon: calls her fans “Elisa-bee’s” we don’t know why either

Loves 80’s style blush

Loves 80s music & aesthetic and she liked it before u teenagers hopped on the bandwagon, sorry not sorry ;-)

Doesn’t feel Lottie is competition at all when it comes to posting content even if fans feel that way, they have completely different techniques

Vacations in Paris & Louisiana often

Her older sister, Manon resides in Louisiana and when they link up??? Issa vibe

Camille is the youngest & kinda a party pooper, she’s more on the serious side

Loves snacking on macaroons... salted caramel praline & lavender white chocolate are her favorites (I feel like I said this about someone else too...)

She’s scared of owls/any type of birds partly from a childhood trauma where she was attacked by a bunch of seagulls on a pier & as punishment when she was up to no good, her parents would force her to watch “the birds” (1963) strapped to a chair

Went thru a “ugly phase” growing up & was often called “lady-b*y”

Has been in multiple relationships/entanglements/situations/experiences but there are many that she doesn’t count & or acknowledge “I hope no one considers me an ex especially if they couldn’t make me c*m”

Has had threes*mes before

Sex posi!

Supports trans lives!

In the last few years she was recently diagnosed with borderline personality disorder

When she finished secondary, she didn’t think uni was for her. Found school rather boring although she did quite well at it. She was exhausted with everything that came with it & decided to go into stripping for a couple of months (almost a year) before she decided to work on her YouTube channel

Currently in a polyamorous relationship

A few of her experiences with her significant others got jealous of her job, the attention she got from it & the time she put into her job as a influencer— it was annoying

Gemini sun + Sagittarius moon + Capricorn rising? Idk man but she’s got Leo & Scorpio in her chart too I’m sure of it

Has no problem bringing her issues with someone to the table

Kinda likes confrontation but only if SHE’s the one to start it, not if SOMEONE ELSE does it FOR her, due to her spreading the info around in the first place...

Will try her best to read someone but sometimes her comebacks lack...

Still doesn’t like Chelsea, Jo, OR Shannon & it’s been a year but she don’t gaf

Found herself a friend in Blake

They’re opposites, she’s more laid back & slightly reserved whereas when Elisa enters the place you KNOW it because she makes it known—she loves to be seen

After Marisol & Graham called it quits, Elisa swept in & they explored what they could be? Intimately. Yet Elisa doesn’t seem like she’s ready to settle down right now & she doesn’t HAVE to while Marisol seems like she likes to have fun too BUT is also always thinking two steps ahead—she’s calculated, so a small part of her thought of the what if’s? But knew there was a chance there shouldn’t be any strings attached

That shifted their friendship forsure!!! Priya told them it was a bad idea from the start but Elisa had some snippy words for her ofc “mind ur business luv, or I’ll do it for ya x”

She thought about ghosting marisol for a little bit to see if she’d chase after her, she loves to be chased but decided not to. She was upfront about their rendezvous after awhile, she agreed if they ever got lonely again to hit each other up...but marisol doesn’t feel like what they had was based on loneliness...

Probably still has a crush on Bobby & was kinda mad he asked someone else to marry him but she still showed up to the reunion/wedding like the baddest bitch she knows she is, ‘got to make him regret not choosing me, ya know?’

Will chat with him every now & then but Bobby being the friendly guy he is doesn’t pay much attention to her seduction or rather he ignores it but if it gets too much he’ll gently tell her about herself

Hey, Elisa knows shade when she sees it & can be a shady bitch when she wants to be too

Only drinks the real ginger ale not the fake one the rest of u lot drink

Has no issue showing her figure, she loves her body, she loves herself, & that took along time to appreciate so she doesn’t care if people view that as arrogant, most don’t know her story & if they still shitted on her for it then they can all fuck right off

She has a soft side too...somewhere in there but it’s very rare to see! Only ONE of her exes had the chance of seeing it

She has a image to protect & show the world but there’s going to be a time where she gets tired of constantly putting on a show

Is a sucker for animation films & whenever there’s a sad moment in the film she deff triggered!

Has two dogs: Dachshund & a chihuahua

Makes the best Pikliz

loves a good lace front, will drop bands on one whenever she feels like she needs something new & that’s quite often

Owns a bedazzler kit

Has a stun gun

Can make her own jewelry + working on starting a line for it

Body scrubs are to die for in her opinion, her skin HAS to be soft & she’s always moisturized. That’s right stay away from her if ur ashy cause she’ll bring shame to you

She’s slightly a mean girl/bitchy I feel like we all know this lmao

Live tweeted about season 3 & dragged it like we all did with no remorse

I feel like she’s a wild sleeper? Lol

Enjoys not only 80s style music but Lofi beats, cocaine80s, PARTYNEXTDOOR, IAMDDB, Ravyn Lenae, VanJess, Ibeyi, Tayla Parx, CITY GIRLS, & Kash doll, saweetie, etc

Celeb crushes: Zoe Kravitz & Lenny Kravitz, Issa Rae, Winston Duke, Theo James, Robert Pattinson, Alexa Demie, Kelvin Harris Jr., Kedar Williams-Stirling...

Anthem: Dreezy ft. Kash Doll — Chanel Slides

#litg #litg2 #litg s2 #litg elisa #litg Lottie #litg Bobby #litg Blake #litg chelsea #litg jo #litg shannon #litg headcanon #litg headcanons #litg moodboard #litg au #okay I lied i felt like Elisa deserved one lol Blake’s next then I’m done with s2 #litg marisol #litg priya

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callioope · 4 years ago

Note

Hey there! Re: the WIP title game, I wanted to ask you about the rebelcaptain scene that's most excited you this year and whether you'd mind sharing a little snippet? Hope you're doing well xx

Hello!! Hope you are doing well too! Thanks for the ask!

Oh man, it’s been awhile since I’ve written any rebelcaptain, so I had to reread the last stories I worked on. Settled on a snippet from “YGM Draft1,” which is my yet-untitled, in-universe You’ve Got Mail AU. I actually got super excited rereading this story anyways. Man I really do want to get back to it... so many stories to write! So little time!

[This is in response to the WIP Title Game I did yesterday; anyone else reading this, please feel free to send an ask! I will actually answer in a timely manner this time...]

To the snippet:

“When are you going into town?”

They both turn to look at Bodhi.

“Today, apparently,” Maia says. “Jyn’s acting strange.”

Jyn catches Bodhi staring at her kyber crystal just as she covers it with her scarf, concern plain on his face.

“She seems—fine,” he finishes, looking away when Jyn meets his eyes.

“I caught her humming, and she’s enthusiastic about haggling with Orus.”

“I wouldn’t say enthusiastic,” Jyn says, passing Bodhi to pick up her jacket off the back of her chair—at least something was where she expected it to be.

Bodhi quietly takes in the kitchen area, Maia’s confusion, the parts splayed out on the table, Essie’s chassis next to it, the panel open in the back, the datapad that Jyn hurriedly shoves into her bag.

“You know what it is,” Maia says, gasping.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he says, looking back at Jyn.

Rolling her eyes, Jyn counts out the credits she’ll need.

“Bodhi!”

He ignores Maia and nods towards Essie’s chassis. “You got a fix for Essie?”

“Yeah, he sent the schematics this morning.”

When Bodhi doesn’t respond, Jyn looks up to catch him sharing a look with Maia. “What?”

They both shift guiltily. “Nothing,” Bodhi mumbles. “I’ll come into town with you. I’ll check on the ‘hopper.”

“Great.” Jyn grabs a ration bar off the shelf and tosses it at Bodhi. “Let’s go.”

He’s less eager fifteen minutes later, when they climb out of the cave and Jyn reveals her transportation plans.

“We’re walking?” Bodhi blurts.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Jyn replies, gesturing to the rippling blue-green grass and the crisp blue sky.

“I mean—yeah, it’s—it’s always beautiful here, Jyn, if you hadn’t noticed. I mean, I’ve only been here…” He glances up at the sky as he calculates. “...six years less than you, but yes, yeah, I had noticed.”

She shrugs and bites into a meiloorun fruit. “It’s good to let the speeders charge.”

“Sure.”

“Something on your mind, Bode?”

He shakes his head. “No. Nope. What’s on your shopping list?”

She pulls out her data pad, shows him FS152’s pricing chart, with the parts she needs highlighted. “And the disabling bolt for the refinery droids.”

Bodhi skims over the pricing chart, his expression unusually blank. She waits for it, a continuation of Maia’s interrogation, but it never comes.

They walk a few tense minutes in silence for a bit, before Jyn finally takes the bait. “You two think I can’t be happy?”

“No, no, that’s not what we…” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, you know, I didn’t know you before…”

She knows what he means: before that night a year and a half ago, when an Imperial cargo pilot calling himself Bodhi Rook had showed up at the mouth of their cave, claiming that Mama had told him how to find them, claiming that their meeting on Rudrig had been ambushed, that he’d only just gotten away—

She closes her eyes and inhales. “Yes, Bodhi, I know what you mean.”

“Well, um, Idryssa just, she’s said… before… Ahh.” He shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

“It’s alright,” she says softly. “You can tell me.”

Bodhi looks out over the horizon. “How’s that penpal of yours?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

He looks back at her and meets her eyes. “I’m not.”

“I don’t see what he has to do with this conversation.”

“Okay.” Bodhi takes a deep breath. “Let me—let me paint a picture for you. You’re humming while you work. You lose track of things, drift off in your thoughts. You suddenly notice—I don’t know, how blue the sky is. There’s a word people have for that.”

Jyn glares at him, waiting for him to continue to explain this third train of thought, but he just holds out his hands for her to fill in the blanks. “You think I’m in love?”

“Well…”

“Not you, too,” she mutters. She shakes her head. “Hadder and I broke up months ago. I love him, sure, but not like that. Why is everyone—”

“I’m not talking about Hadder.”

No, she didn’t really think he had been. “You think I’m in love with FS152.”

“The evidence suggests…”

“‘Course I don’t love him,” she says, picking at the stem of her meiloorun fruit. “I don’t even know him. I don’t even know where he lives. He could be across the galaxy. What point is there in loving a person on the other side of the galaxy?”

“That’s very convincing.”

“Convincing,” Jyn says, tossing the word around in her head before tossing the meiloorun fruit core into the grass. “What’s convincing is that people don’t just fall in love with someone they met on an Anti-Imperial back channel, whom they’ve never met in person. I don’t even know his real name. How can you love a person you don’t even know?”

“Observe and report, right?” Bodhi says. “I’m just calling what I can see.”

“Then listen,” Jyn says, trying to keep her tone civil. She’s not mad, but Bodhi’s theory—it can’t be entertained. “FS152 is a useful contact who’s helped me plenty in the past, and is currently helping me repair Essie. And I’m excited to have Essie back.”

“Of course.”

Jyn sighs. She shouldn’t snap at Bodhi for caring. She’s grateful for him. She’s grateful for the intel he brought last year—not that she’s been able to do much about it, since then. That’s a dour thought for another day, one less bright as this one. She stows it away.

She’s grateful for his friendship, most of all.

And the stories he brought about Papa, although those, too, are too dark for today.

Today, she has a message in her inbox from FS152, a schematic to fix Essie, and a friend by her side.

Today is allowed to be a good day.

#firefeufuego #liz replies #you've got mail au #my writing #wip #rebelcaptain

19 notes · View notes

anotherbeingsworld · 5 years ago

Text

Always and forever.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Casey Valentine)

Book: Open Heart

Word Count: 4211

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, mentions of death.

Disclaimer:All the characters belong to Pixelberry. I do not own anything, except the storyline.

A/N: *hides myself*Hi! This is officially my second Bryce x MC fic that I manage to write! This is a different take on the story, its a storyline that I have wanted to write for a long time. It is a pretty cliche’ trope for me to write, but I am a sucker for those stuff. Its a bit angsty-ish aswell! In this universe, it was years after the incidents from the first book! And, i apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes since english is not my first language! I want to thank @maria-soederberg for checking for errors, and for all the medical reference in this book! <3 AHH, i am freaking out inside since its my new story, i felt a bit giddy, anxious everything while typing this! So, I hope you all enjoy! Also, missing Bryce Lahela hours :’)

Tags: @choicessa @annekebbphotography !

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Always and forever.

The wind was blowing on Casey’s face, as she stared at the view upon her. She had felt everything that life had thrown at her - love, friendship, happiness, and even loss. As a doctor, she faces something different every day in her life. It's either, a new decease or the death of a patient.

Some people she meets tend to leave a mark on her life. Mrs Martinez who had passed away after getting a medication injected that promised to be a cure for her Rhodes diseases, having the chance of fulfilling her dream.

She had faced it all - pain and happiness. She didn’t know much about life before she met Bryce Lahela, a surgical resident she met on her first day of her medical residency. He had shown her what life is about – that life has more to offer than work and medicine.

His brown eyes shone every day as he walked through the halls of Edenbrook, his smile made those around feel a bit giddy. He also gave people a wink, especially female co-workers. It became his signature and a way to boost his confidence. No one would know what really goes on his mind, as long as he has this cheerful demeanour.

Casey recalls the second day of her residency as if it wasn’t long ago. She remembers she had messed up the patients’ charts, and on top of that her boss Dr Ethan Ramsey gave her hell. He was used to her being a good doctor, knowing what to do. But on that day he was disappointed and so was she. Her confidence was shaken, she felt hot tears stung in her eyes. Casey hurried up to arrive in the empty and hollowed hallway of the hospital where nobody ever goes. It was an old wing where the surgery rooms used to be. Now that they had moved into another part of the hospital, no one ever goes through these halls. A perfect place for Casey to calm down.

Her legs gave in and she slowly slides down the wall towards the floor. She felt like she failed in her dream to become a good doctor. She worked so hard to get here and she feels like she had ruined her chance. When that realisation hits her, she feels the tears rolling down her cheeks. She buries her face into her hands and sobs quietly. Casey is so in thoughts that she doesn’t notice the presence next to her.

"Hey, rough day?" He spoke in a comforting tone.

She just nodded as she wiped away the tears that were still forming. At this point, she didn't mind the company anymore. She had become too exhausted to shoo the person next to her away.

"Me too, I became too over-confident and ended up making a mistake. Dr Tanaka already taught me about the surgery and how to proceed. But yet I still made the mistake so he threw me out of the surgery and took over.”

Casey nodded in understanding as they sat in comfortable silence with each other. The silence was therapeutic for both of them. And that moment was the beginning of something special. Something by far greater than birthdays or festive. But, it all went crashing down on the 5th of October.

Bryce Lahela had been diagnosed with lung cancer. He saw it coming because his childhood was a rebellious stage in his life. He had joined all the gangs that someone possible could join, which include illegal activities including a huge amount of cigarettes and other harmful activities that can hurt the lung.

He remembered the day of his diagnosis. How he suddenly felt nausea and difficulty in breathing. It caused him to faint in the middle of the halls of the hospital . The difficulty of breathing caused the brain to not get enough oxygen. The result was him passing out before he even hit the floor. He doesn’t remember how he got into the treatment room, but he remembers after waking up that Dr Ramsey was standing in front of him. A patient chart in his hand – his patient chart. He only explained they have to make a few test before being sure. And of course, Bryce followed through. After he was finished with all the test, he was assigned to a patient room. He heard footsteps echoing outside his patient room. And then Dr Ramsey, Dr Emery and Dr Valentine – Casey came into the room. Casey had red eyes, as if she had cried. Dr Emery and Dr Ramsey look at him as if they had lost a fight. She makes her way first to him, pulling him into a tight hug. He was surprised by the hug but welcomed it. Bryce didn't let go of her He knew something was wrong when Sienna, Elijah and Jackie enter the room as well. One time, he explained that whenever he gets a terrible diagnose, he doesn’t want to be alone when he gets the revelation.

Dr Ramsey makes his way to him with his results.

"Dr. Lahela, how are you feeling now?" He asked. Dr Emery steps forward and stands next to Ethan.

"I feel better but my head hurts a little." He replied gesturing to his head that was wrapped in a bandage.

"We have your results and, we have bad news." Dr Emery said.

Bryce raised an eyebrow and his voice was filled with uncertainty, "What does it say?"

"I'm sorry Bryce but you have been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. We had seen several symptoms that matched. As you might have noticed we brought you into a CT to see what could have caused the symptoms. On the pictures we have seen space-consuming lesion. After a few more test we found out that this space is a malignant tumor. We also have found out that it had unfortunately spread beyond the lungs." Dr Ramsey explained to him.

He nods expectantly, accepting the diagnosis that was given to him. Casey felt her heart stop at the word 'cancer'. She didn't believe what she was hearing, she doesn't want it to be true. She shook her head in disbelief as she glanced at him.

"It can't be, please tell me it's not true." She screamed in disbelief, Bryce immediately placed his arms around her waist pulling her into him.

"It’s gonna be okay Cas." Bryce pulled a crying Casey into his arms.

"We have set up a treatment for you, we will include you for chemo and we are suggesting radiotherapy or ERBT (External beam of radiation therapy), which delivers high doses of radiation to lung cancer cells from outside the body to kill cancer cells. We need you to stay in the hospital for a few weeks to make our examinations easier. We can let you go for a few days, but we need someone to supervise you during those times. Do you have any family Dr. Lahela?" Dr. Ramsey asked him.

He shook his head, his family was never in the picture. He was cut out from his family except for her sister Keiki. They had been in contact with each other but she couldn't look after him. And he doesn’t even know if he should tell her any of this. She just found a place in college and works out a plan for her life. His illness would just get in the way, and he really doesn’t want this.

"I can." Casey said as she stood up from Bryce's hospital bed and make her way towards Dr. Ramsey.

"Rookie, are you sure?" He asked for confirmation and she immediately nods without hesitation.

Bryce was speechless. She would take him under her care, she would be his assistant.

"Cas, are you sure? I don't want to be a burden to you, and with my condition it’s gonna be a hard one." Bryce questioned her decision.

"I want to Bryce, I owe it to you.. You’ve done so much for me. Now it is time that I do something for you. And it isn’t just me, all of us, we are here for you, we are going to help you." Casey gestured towards their friends.

He smiled at her response, and nod in appreciation.

"Can I have a minute alone with Dr. Lahela? Thank you." Dr. Ramsey said as all of his friends leave the room including Dr. Emery too.

"What's the details Dr. Ramsey?"

"I don't want to break this news in front of the others but, based on your condition now. There is a 4.7 percent chance for you to live for the next five years. We don't have the exact calculations but, the tumour inside your lungs had been spread throughout your body, almost hitting some major parts of your body. Even with treatment, we cannot promise you to win the fight against the cancer. We can only help the cancer to not continue to grow. And to give you a bit more time. At the end, we calculated that you might have approximately 6 months to live. Only with the treatment, without the treatment, you might not survive this month. " Dr. Ramsey stated with a sad tone in his voice.

Six months, 183 days.

After his conversation with Ramsey, Bryce unexpectedly pulled him into a sudden hug. Ethan didn't question his intentions instead he gave into the hug. It lasted a few moments before he leaves the room, leaving Bryce with his thoughts. He knew back then, he knew the risk from his actions before but he was stubborn. He let himself get into the wrong group and ended up with a decease that can’t be cured anymore because his cancer is too far.

He glanced around the room, his days were numbered and he decided to make the most of the life he was given. He immediately dialed Keiki's number, to drop the news leaving no details behind. He decided to give her a chance to know what is going on in his life. Maybe she wants to visit him and have at least the last moments with her brother before he leaves them forever.

After the conversation ended, Casey makes her way back to the room. He smiled at her presence, and he took a deep breath.

"Casey, where are the others?" He asked looking around for their friends.

"They went to get some food for you, and I think Elijah is making a stop to the restroom." She replied as she took a seat beside his bed.

Bryce smiled at the thought, he was debating on telling her about the final detail.

He took a deep breath, and said: "6 months." He said quietly, louder than a whisper but quieter than a shout.

Casey didn't understand what he meant, until a few moments later. Her eyes went wide at his words.

"Is it what I think it is?" Her voice breaks as she said it. She is in disbelief, he knew the truth would break her but he didn't want to leave her in the dark.

"I'm still here, Cas, and I'm not going anywhere now." He said softly as he traces circles on her back. She sat on the bed, and felt her tears flowing once more. He is still here, he is going to make it. 6 months, is just a number. And just an assumption. There were many cases where people with stage four cancer lived longer than the number they were told. Maybe Bryce is one of them.

They sat in the position for a long time before she decided to go back home. As soon as she arrived at home, she curled into a ball, as she silently cried in her room. The night was hard, she barely slept. She doesn’t know how life will be like when he is gone.

The next day, she managed to make it through her shift with a smile plastered on her face. It was not easy to get through the shift. Ethan sometimes asked if she is okay, but after she said ‘yes’ all the time, he noticed that she doesn’t want to talk about it.

Back at home, she heard a knock on her door, and Sienna makes her way inside the room. She was in her pajamas, and with a couple of stuff. She brought some ice cream and a few pillows.

"Hey, let's have a sleepover together. I want to cheer you up." Sienna explaines as she sat on her bed. Casey sat on her bed and smiled weakly at her.

"Thank you, Sienna, I just thought that I could be strong. I want to be strong for him, but I can't." She explained which ended up with her crying again. Sienna placed the pillows and ice cream down before she started holding a crying Casey in her arms.

As the next day arrived the truth hit her harder than before. She packed herself an overnight bag to bring to the hospital with her. She decided to look after Bryce after she finishes her shift. After she was done working her shift, she finally was able to go to Bryce’s room. She finds him eating his dinner alone but judging by his face, he doesn’t like the hospital food much.

"I wished I had some ice cream now, Cas. This hospital food is killing me." Bryce says as she laughs at his antics.

"Well, I could bring you a scoop if you promise to finish up your food." She offers which made his eyes light up in joy.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver." He expresses his gratitude and continues finishing his food.

She smiles at him, and continues to accompany him for the night. She ended up falling asleep as well. The days keep being like that for them, she would be there for him every night until the day arrived where he was released from the hospital. He was released from the hospital by one condition. He had to be monitored at home. Casey has to make sure that his heartrate continues and that his oxygen saturation is constantly above 85%.

The day he was released, Keiki made her presence at his apartment. Casey was introduced to Bryce's little sister, who is not that little anymore. In the mornings, Keiki would be his assistance while Casey was at work. All of the hospital staff had taken the opportunity to help him any way they can including Dr. Ramsey himself.

One day, Keiki and Casey were having lunch together.

"Thank you for looking after Bryce, Casey." Keiki suddenly says.

"It is nothing, I knew he would do this to me as well." She says as she glances at his room.

"He told me the other day, he was grateful for you. Everything you've done for him. I know I didn't have a chance to get to know him properly because of mom and dad but, I get to know him now before it’s too late and it’s everything." Keiki explains, her voice soft.

"I am grateful for him, and I feel like when it comes to him. It is one of my weaknesses. I care about him a lot, and hearing the news makes me feel sad. I am not ready to lose him yet, he …" She stops, realizing she's been crying.

Keiki rubbed her back and gestures to his room.

"I believe that you should tell him how you feel, life isn't stopping for anybody. Six months for him is all that he got." She suggests before making her way to the living room, leaving Casey alone in the kitchen.

Casey takes a deep breath, and makes her way to his room. She sees him on the bed, he is resting after a long day of treatment. She takes a seat beside his bed, and his head shots up at her presence.

"Hey Lahela, how are you doing?" Casey asks while checking his vitals. So far heart rate looks good, no extra syncopes on the ECG, and his saturation is constantly between 89% and 95%.

"I'm doing good, although I feel like my energy is drained out of me, every day."

"Hey, you're still here. It's all that matters." Casey says to him and he smiles weakly at her.

"So, what's the purpose of your visit to Casa de Lahela." He gestures at his room.

"I wanted to check on you and, I have something to get out of my chest." Casey smiles at him, as she squeezes his hand.

"Consider me checked, did I ever tell you how lucky I am to have you here." He admits quietly as his eyes gaze into hers.

She feels her cheeks burn from the sensation, she decides to lie down beside him. She squeezes herself into the space left on the bed.

"I don't want to lose you." She admits quietly as she lies her head on his chest.

"You will never lose me, Cas, I am always here with you. You can’t get rid of me easily." Bryce explains to her with the same amount of confidence that he always has.

"I know, I just can't bear the thought of knowing that you are sick. I-I love you Bryce. These few months had made me realize that I am in love with you, and I am not ready to lose you yet." She confesses while looking him straight into his eyes.

He placed a kiss on her forehead, "I love you too, Cas, being a sick dude made me realize it. You are the one person who wanted to accompany me after a long day of work, the way you bring me ice cream every once in a while make me fell for you, Casey Valentine. I-" He stops suddenly, gasping for air. Casey’s head shots up to the monitor. His heart rate shows ventricular fibrillation and his saturation went down to 65%. Casey stood up and called the hospital to send an ambulance immediately. After that she starts with chest compression, as long as the doctor needs so they can use the defibrillator.

Clueless, Keiki stepped into the room and stop in her tracks. She saw her brother lying on the bed, unconscious, Casey on top of him trying to reanimate him. Keiki doesn’t know what to do, she has never helped before.

“Let the paramedics in!” Casey orders.

After a few moments, the paramedics arrive and instantly build up the defibrillator. After they shocked him two times, Casey decides to intubate him so that he is not having any lack of oxygen. After a successful attempt, they load him into the ambulance and rush him into the ambulance and into some tests to see how much worse his conditions are.

In the hospital they rush him onto the ICU where gets put onto life support. Dr Ethan Ramsey looks over his vitals and looks at Keiki and Casey who stood there shocked.

“Keiki, you’re his sister. I have to give you the decision. Your brother only lives right now, because he is on life support. He will not wake up again, his cancer is too far for him to survive. The cancer made his lungs collapse which means that he will never breathe on his own. So, I ask you, Keiki. Shall I turn of the machines and help him die peacefully.”

Keiki sobs and Casey puts a comforting arm around her. She closes her eyes, not wanting to witness the situation in front of her.

“I love my brother, but I know he would want to leave the world as soon as he has no chance to live without support.” Keiki starts. “Turn it off, Dr Ramsey.”

Ethan nods and turns off the machines, he injects Bryce an amount of morphia to save him from pain or any other obstacles.

After a while fighting, Bryce finally let himself go. The monitor showing flat lines, no breathing rate, no heart rate and no saturation left. Bryce Lahela has left the world.

Time of death, 8 p.m.

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

The whole Edenbrook community was shocked at the news of his sudden death. Casey felt her heart break into bits and pieces. She thought about their conversation before and let herself cry a bit longer.

A few weeks later, Bryce's funeral was happening. The rain is pouring as the day went on, she never imagined that this would occur to her. Losing the one you love is the greatest pain that one could ever go through.

Many of his co-workers had come to say their farewell and even his family made an appearance. Casey stood there with her friends close by, she dreaded this day. The sadness, the emptiness she felt at that moment. It was unbearable. There was this emptiness that Bryce had left behind. This funeral made the loss of someone she loved dearly more realistic. At first, she was able to pretend that this was just a nightmare of hers, but seeing he was buried in front of her, she has to accept the fact that he will never come back.

After it ends, Casey lingers at the cemetery for a while along with Keiki by her side.

"He left you this, I found it when we were cleaning up his place before. I think he wants you to have it," Keiki says as she hands her a letter that is sealed.

"Thank you, Keiki."

"No, thank you, Casey for all you've done for him." Keiki pulls her into a hug, and make her way back to the car.

Casey starts to head back leaving the cemetery behind. She decided to live not only for her but also for Bryce. During that time she wasn’t able to read the letter yet. It was too heart-breaking.

It’s been a year since the event that no one ever expected. She makes her way up to a hill. Rocket Hill was one of Bryce's favourite spots to hang, and hike during his days. She holds a polaroid of him standing on top of the exact hill proudly making his mark for the world.

The wind was blowing on Casey’s face, as she looks at the view in front of her. The view from the hill was spectacular. The city of Boston could be seen from a distance. After a few moments, she takes a seat on a bench facing the city. The letter from Bryce was in her hand. She knew she needed a perfect time, and now that time has come. She took a deep breath and slowly opens the letter

Hey Casey,

It's me or Jackie would call ‘the scalpel jockey’ here, I feel like I'm healing every day but I know that's not the truth. We all gotta end somewhere, and I can feel my end is coming closer. I don't want to make you worry but well, I did make you worry, right? Love, I have no idea what to write or say now but Keiki forced me to write and well, we gotta start somewhere right? So, If I'm writing this... It means my time is uo. I just want to speak some truth here. I was cut off from my family when I finished high school. I have been living on my own for a long time. Keiki was the only family I knew, and med school was hard because they knew to whom the name Lahela belongs. But, being here at Edenbrook made me realize I have a family after all. My family are my friends. We may not be related by blood but we're gonna stick together till the end. My time here also led me to you; Casey Valentine, the future of Edenbrook. You stood by me from the beginning until this very moment and I want to say thank you. Life with this decease had made me realize that time is precious, and it should be spent with those we love and cherish. Every day was a special one because you were in it and I wouldn't have it any other way. Well, that's enough of cheesy Bryce for one day. If you ever doubt yourself in anything, remember that you are enough as a human, a doctor, and a friend. Okay?

Love,

Bryce 'Scalpel Jockey' Lahela.

PS: Don’t be afraid to fall in love again, Casey. I want someone to make you as happy as I made you. I want you to have a family of your own, and please take care of Keiki. <3

Despite the sadness from the letter, she feels herself smile at the letter, holding it tight not wanting it to get away. She looks up at the sky, seeing the sky had changed its colours. She smiles at the scenery upon her and starts to enjoy it. She knows Bryce would have wanted it. And even though she has lost the one person she has loved so much, she will continue to live her life for them. But Bryce Lahela, will always be her first love, and she will never love anyone the same as she loved him. Bryce is her forever, and he will always be.

THE END

A/N #2: Hey! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it, I never had any particular experience from what I wrote but, I have been wanting to write this for a long time! I really hope I get to deliver it, it was hard to share this to you guys, but I wanted too! Don’t forget to like, reblog and even comment anything! It would really mean a lot! Once again, thank you for reading it! <3

#playchoices #choices #bryce x mc #bryce lahela #casey valentine #open heart fic #fanfic #choicesgame

78 notes · View notes

aworldoffandoms · 5 years ago

Note

Prompt no.10 Stop staring at him😂 For Ethan×MC

Authors Note: Hello! This Open Heart small ficlet is from this list of prompts.

So…this is my last drabble/ficlet or whatever you wanna call it and I’m actually kinda sad now. I had loads of fun writing them and I’m glad a lot of you enjoyed reading them all! If you want to see more feel free to send some random prompts to my inbox and I’ll see what I can do!

Thanks to @sanchita012 for this prompt! Hope you enjoy reading this! Lucky last! 😊

I also just want to thank each and every one of you who liked, reblogged and/or commented on all these prompt asks! It means a lot that you liked them. 💗

Prompt is: stop staring at him

Prompt is in bold.

P.S. I am no doctor or nurse or medical professional so any medical stuff that is mentioned in this fic is used lightly— I researched a bit but it is in no way accurate so please be aware of that.

***

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC [Nicolette Valentine]

Word Count: 1,686

Rating: G

Warnings: None. No angst. Some tension. And some tea being spilt.

Summary: Esme Ortega is Nicolette’s intern, yes, but that doesn’t stop her from giving Nicolette some advice that will make her feel a lot better. The tea has never been so hot!

I’m tagging my OH tag list but please let me know if you’d like to stay on it or would like to be removed.

Open Heart Tag: @senseofduties @polishchoicesfan @princess-geek @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @binny1985 @fanficnewbie @x-kyne-x@thefluffyphotographer @lilyofchoices @thecordoniandiaries @rainbowsinthestorm @cxld-play @jens-diamondchoices @malakbesharah @hopelessly-shipper @my-heart-beats-for-ya @landofenchantedwonder @sabrinahoffersonsworld @flyawayboo @stanathanxoox @oofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @heauxplesslydevoted @bi-cookie @kingliamsbish @trappedinfandoms @supercoolperson0808 @perriewinklenerdie @riverrune

***

SAGE ADVICE

“Doctor Valentine…?”

Nicolette stares at the chart in front of her, calculations and possible outcomes run through her head as she stares at her patient’s chart.

“Doctor Valentine!”

Nicolette’s head snaps up at her name, her eyes narrowing against the terse yell. “What?”

Her tone is short and harsh but she softens her expression when she finds her intern staring at her, a scowl on her face.

Doctor Esme Ortega puts her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrows at her boss’ clear lack of outside awareness. She’s noticed that over the past few months she’s worked as her intern. Nicolette’s smart but when she got involved with something it was almost impossible to pull her out of her thoughts.

Nicolette flips her patient’s file closed and heaves a sigh. “What’s up, Doctor Ortega?”

Esme glances down at her own patient file, the nerves in her stomach erupting but her face remains passive. Although she was tough, she still wants the approval of her superior.

“I wanted to get your opinion on my patient’s results before we go any further.”

Nicolette smiles and offers her hand for Esme to place the file into and she scans the notes and lab results as she goes.

“Hmm…you were right to bring this to me.”

Nicolette glances at the results a few moments longer before she glances up at her intern, a smile curving the side of her mouth, her eyes curious. “What I want to know is what should happen next in your own professional opinion. What is your next plan of action?”

Esme stares at her boss, her mind turning. She runs a hand through her hair as she speaks. “Uh. I think looking at the test results I want to put him on 5mgs of coumadin to reduce his blood clotting as he has a history with that, however, before I do that I want to order an echocardiogram and an MRI scan for him because he has been experiencing headaches as he said he’s been having them regularly and he didn’t notably react to my pink prick when I did a sensory test so I want to rule out a brain tumour.”

A burst of pride goes through Nicolette as she listens to her intern recount everything she plans to do to help her patient. She couldn’t be prouder of her.

Once Esme is done, Nicolette nods, signing off on the paper before handing it back to her. “Great work, Doctor Ortega. See that you do all that and then come page me when he’s going in for each and when the results are back we can set a plan for our next cause of action.”

Esme’s eyes light up in the excitement and she nods enthusiastically before heading off down the corridor. “Awesome! Thanks, Doctor Valentine. I’ll page you when he’s ready.”

Nicolette grins as Esme turns the corner and she shifts the stethoscope around her neck to sit more comfortably.

“Well, well. If I didn’t know any better I’d think that you and your intern are actually friends.”

Nicolette’s attention snaps over to the other side of the nurses’ station and a grin lifts her mouth as she rolls her eyes at her friend.

“Yes, unlike you, Jackie, I made an effort to build a rapport with my intern and actually teach her some things so she’d at least be half as good as me.”

Jackie rolls her eyes and laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t rub it in. It’s not my fault I have an intern who can’t seem to stop smiling at everyone. It’s exhausting.”

Nicolette shrugs. “Your loss, Jackie. You never know what you might learn from them. Be open to the possibility.”

Jackie waves her off and Nicolette chuckles, making her way to the elevator to head up to the diagnostics office.

***

The day came at a snail’s pace and Nicolette sighs as she runs her hands through her hair before lifting it up and fastening the long auburn tendrils into a high bun atop her head.

Her intern had come and gone with the results of the echo and MRI scan which were clear and both had come up with a treatment plan that would see Doctor Ortega’s patient discharged within the week.

Nicolette stands at the nurses’ station, jotting down a few notes in some of her patient files. She checks the time on her wristwatch and sighs forlornly. Four more hours of this shift and then she can go home to her own warm bed and sleep for ten years.

It’s then that her eyes catch on a tall broad figure, his blue eyes focus on the small doctor five feet smaller than him. Nicolette would laugh at the comical sight but she’s too busy staring at the back of Ethan’s imposing figure and she can’t help the excited pounding of her heart.

“Great job, Doctor Trinh. I want to see the results from this patient so page me when you come up with a solution.”

Sienna bounces on her feet and nods at Ethan.

“Of course, Doctor Ramsey! Come on, Mitch! Let’s go see your patient for another check-up!”

Ethan nods, turning on his heel to head back to his office, his steps slow however when he spots Nicolette’s eyes on him where he stops entirely. The air around him suddenly gets thicker and his skin tingles. He curls his hands into fists at the sensation, his hands working their way into his coat pockets.

She drives me goddamn crazy.

If there’s one thing Ethan can’t ignore it’s the hold Nicolette Valentine’s has over him. She has him in the palm of her hands and she can do whatever she wants with him and he’d gladly let her do it.

Ethan stands at the nurses’ station and nonchalantly checks his pager for any messages and finds nothing. He’s stalling, he knows it but he doesn’t want to leave just yet so he stands at the nurses’ station, idly chatting with Danny before his eyes flick up and find the emerald colour of Nicolette’s expressive eyes and his stomach flips.

The eye-contact is short but charged, a thrilling, electric moment of eyes meeting and it happens only in a few seconds before Ethan gives a tiny smirk and heads off in the other direction, leaving Nicolette behind, her cheeks on fire.

Unbeknownst to both Ethan and Nicolette, Doctor Esme Ortega had seen the charged exchange between the two even if it was only a few seconds. It was obvious they had chemistry and a rather large amount of it if the heated looks she witnessed a few times between them counted for anything.

Esme sidles up next to her boss and whispers underneath her breath, low enough for only Nicolette to hear. There is a touch of exasperation in her tone as she addresses her.

“Stop staring at him.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Nicolette starts, her gaze ripping from Ethan’s retreating form and meeting Esme’s chocolate brown eyes. Esme gives her a flat look yet her stare is deliberate and pointed, yet her eyes confused. Not because of what’s happening but at the fact as to why these two weren’t doing anything about it.

Nicolette pulls her intern away from the gossiping nurses and down the corridor to an alcove which they’d be able to converse in semi-privacy if they kept their voices low enough.

Nicolette resists the urge to swallow nervously as she begins speaking. “I ask again…what are you saying?”

Esme sighs, crossing her arms along her chest. “Are you seriously pulling that card, right now? I don’t know why you want to lie to me but it’s getting monotonous seeing you both skirt around each other and exchange these longing glances when you think no one is looking. Plus, don’t even get me started on the small little touches. They’re just as meaningful as the looks you give each other.”

Dread fills her and she stares at Esme like a deer caught in headlights. “W-what? Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing going on between me a-and Doctor Ramsey.”

Esme sighs and shakes her head. “If you are worried about me saying anything, I won’t. I respect you. I respect your decisions. If you want to keep resisting whatever it is that’s between you….by all means, do it. I’m telling you now this won’t last for long. But, who am I to stop you? I’m a lowly intern.”

Nicolette opens her mouth to protest to speak but Esme continues, knowing what she was going to say.

“It’s not that hard to guess what’s going on between you two. The tension is palpable and I can feel it whenever you are in the room together, no matter how big or small. It’s like this bomb is about to explode or at least like the air is heavy and I can’t breathe. You both really need to sleep together before you both explode. It’s only going to get worse before it gets better. Just get it over with.”

Nicolette stares at Esme, her mouth hanging open. Nicolette is at a loss for words, so much so that they come out in a jumbled mess. “How? W-what? I don’t—”

There is a genuine smile on Esme’s face as she turns away from Niclotte, shrugging her shoulders as she steps out of the alcove. “I’m just observant like that, Doctor Valentine.”

To make Nicolette feel even worse Esme winks at her and mutters “Good luck!” as she saunters away, the diagnostic junior fellow staring after her, panic rising in her chest.

Oh shit…

Esme knows.

What is she going to do now?

#open heart #open heart 2 #open heart fanfiction #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fanfiction #writing prompt #ask prompt #choices #playchoices

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