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liillyliilly · 8 months ago

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In Time You Get Your Rewards

tsukishima kei x reader words; 6507 synopsis; love takes patience. a lot of patience for tsukishima kei. at least they could be friends for now.

Comparing the times on wrists was everyone’s favorite way to pass the time. Seeing if one’s time matched someone else’s before the time ‘officially’ ran out. Sometimes they would be correct and other times it wouldn’t. Tsukishima was obsessed with the time on his wrist. He thought that he spent much more time on the numbers on his wrist more than anybody else.

Because he still had time.

It seemed like everybody else had already found their soulmate. Most met through school, sometimes from when they were toddlers. But for Tsukishima it was an extreme source of embarrassment that he still had time on his left wrist.

He felt like it wasn’t fair that he hadn’t met his yet. The bitterness for the time on his wrist grew immensely when he started his first year in high school. He still had a little over six months before he could meet his soulmate. Yamaguchi found his before him, Hinata found his before him, even Kageyama Tobio found his.

Tsukishima often lay awake at night staring at the time slowly passing by. Second by second and then minute by minute. She did the same, sitting cross legged on her own bed staring at the time. They went to different schools, and had no idea about the other, but all the same they hyperfocused on that timer imprinted on their skin in black markings.

When Tsukishima played volleyball, he wrapped his wrist in bandages because the time ticking by would distract him from the game at hand.

After the game against Johzenji, he packs up. As Karasuno is exiting the gym, celebrating their wins, Tsukishima feels his wrist itch, he looks down to it and shifts the bandages slightly. While doing so, he bumps into someone.

“Hey! Watch where you’re walking!” She pouts as she puts her hands on her hips. She’s wearing the Aoba Johsai uniform. And she looks pissed. Tsukishima puts his hands up. A pang goes through his heart, but he can’t quite place it. He deems it an unfortunate side effect of playing volleyball for a whole day.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a garden gnome, I would have seen you. But hey, blame it all on me.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes, intending to try and walk past her, but he bumps into her shoulder again. That in turn seems to anger her even more.

“A garden gnome?” She purses her lips together and rolls up her sleeves, “You wanna go? I may be shorter than you but I can still pack a solid punch.” Two of the Aoba Johsai volleyball members come rushing up and tug her back by her arms. She’s still trying to swing her arms around, biting at her schoolmates and telling them to let her go. She even throws her leg out to try and get Tsukishima.

He mocks her with a short laugh, just stepping backwards to avoid the kick she was trying to aim at his shins.

“We are so sorry.” The Aoba Johsai teammates both bow profusely, apologizing in unison. When Oikawa Tooru storms up to the scene all hell breaks loose. She starts to tattle on Tsukishima to Oikawa, and Oikawa pouts a little, patting her on the head. Tsukishima is entertained by her, but also desperately wants to call her a range of insults, brat or crybaby being the top two options floating around in his head.

He can’t quite place another feeling deep within his stomach when Oikawa tugs on her arm and brings her into his side. Tsukishima raises an eyebrow when Oikawa holds onto her shoulder and uses his other hand to squish her face.

“Now, now, Kindaichi and Yahaba, let's hear our dear manager’s point of view. I know for a fact that L/N-chan almost never starts a fight without a reason.” Oikawa tries to settle everything, but the younger members of his team keep snapping and complaining about Tsukishima. Tsukishima felt like he did nothing wrong and just wanted to find a moment to escape. She lurches out of Oikawa’s grasp, but he pulls her back to prevent Tsukishima from getting mauled.

Tsukishima’s wrist is burning now. He rubs it against his leg, trying to ignore the pain.

Her wrist feels irritated as well. When she looks down, she gasps. Covering her mouth with her other hand, staring at her timer.

Sugawara finally takes notice of the scene and pulls Tsukishima away before anything can start. Tsukishima can hear Oikawa ask her what’s wrong, as Tsukishima is being dragged away by Suga. Her voice feels distant as she starts to cry a little bit.

Tsukishima feels tired from the long day as he walks home with Yamaguchi. The tingles of his wrist still emanate and he scratches at the bandages intermittently.

“Say, Tsukki, I wonder, it isn’t very smart of you to cover your soulmate timer.” Yamaguchi fiddles with his backpack straps. A volleyball keychain dangles down from the strap, his soulmate had gotten him that. Tsukishima wondered if his soulmate would do cringey things like that.

“What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you heard some of those urban stories, people hiding their soulmate timer end up meeting them but not realizing it. Then they have to wait longer until they pay attention and notice the timer.” Yamaguchi shrugs before walking off to his street. He turns around to yell a closing statement, cupping his mouth with his hands to amplify his voice, “Just something to think about!”

Leaving Tsukishima to stand at the crossroads.

When Tsukishima gets home, he gets a pair of scissors and cuts up the large bandages he used to cover his wrists, cutting the fabric to use for wrapping his fingers instead. Satisfied, he tucks the strips of fabric into his bag. While Tsukishima busied himself getting ready for bed, he never expected to see what he saw.

A ten-minute timer. He swallowed thickly, his hand went limp and his toothbrush fell onto the floor. He’d have to boil it in hot water to get the germs out, but he was too preoccupied with running down the stairs.

Going into the living room he stares at his mom with such an intensity that it frankly kind of scares her.

“Do you have people coming over?” The words spill out clumsily.

“I don’t think so, why?” She sets down the book she was reading to pay more attention to her son, who was obviously in some state of distress.

Tsukishima only holds his wrist up to show his mom. She gasps and then starts to smile. Loud and abrasive knocking is heard from the front door. Tsukishima looks at his mom, and she just waves him off to go answer the door. Tsukishima takes a deep breath before opening the door.

“Hey asshole.” She has her arms folded and she glares at him.

It was his ‘gnome’ from earlier in the day. She was still in an Aoba Johsai uniform, and while Tsukishima did prefer the black uniforms Karasuno had, he could see why some people liked the girls uniforms at Aoba Johsai better. The lilac skirt did have its positive attributes, mostly the length, or the lack thereof.

“Hey?” Tsukishima is taken aback. “You’re not exactly who I imagined to be my soulmate.”

“I didn’t exactly want an oblivious idiot who bumps into girls to be my soulmate either.”

Tsukishima smirks before pulling her in close. “So how exactly did you figure out where I live?” She pushes away from him using her hands against his chest. He wonders how close he can get, if it’ll trigger her fight response again, if he’ll get to see her threatening to punch him. He figures the closer he gets, the more likely he is to have annoying her down to a science.

Plus, they were soulmates, so she had to feel something for him regardless of if he was bothering her or not.

“You have a very nice manager.” She huffs.

Tsukishima thinks back to how Kiyoko was looking at him weird during the bus ride back to Karasuno. He doesn’t know if he’d call Kiyoko nice, especially since she forgot to tell Tsukishima that she’d run into his soulmate and then just didn’t bring it up at all.

“I’m Kei.” He holds out his hand. Better late than never to get to know her on a slightly more formal playing field.

She shakes his hand and introduces herself in return. The warmth that runs up from their hands into their arms is soothing, like getting to go to bed after a tedious day.

“Nice to finally meet you.” Tsukishima uses her hand to pull her into him. Wrapping his arms around her waist. She tries to pull away again, but gives up once Tsukishima reaches to poke her flat in between her eyebrows.

Tsukishima reasoned she was more bark than actual bite.

“Eh, I don’t know how nice an asshole can be.” She taps her chin with her index finger, still wiggling out of Tsukishima’s grasp.

“I can be nice when I want to.”

He kept trying to be nice to her, when he wanted to, the next year as well.

He responded decently quickly to her text messages at least. He even introduced her to his family. They would eat dinners together at each other’s houses, and she showed him how to bake all kinds of treats. He always pretended to not care for them, but when she let out a hum after eating a fresh cookie out of the oven, he just had to give in and eat one too.

Second year was easier to go through, minus the teasing from his friends about his soulmate. Tsukishima just couldn’t give them enough information for their liking.

“What’s she like?” A classmate had asked once.

Tsukishima leaned back in his seat for a second, thinking about how last week she had refused his offer to carry her bag when they went to get new pencils at the corner shop. He thought of the time she shoved her hand onto his face, covering his lips when he tried to lean in once during a movie at her house.

“She’s like me.”

The response from his seatmate was just a groan in dissatisfaction, “Well, that sure tells me a lot. She’s a sarcastic, son of a bitch weirdo with a music obsession who ends up with a dent in the top of their head from wearing those thick headphones.”

Tsukishima could handle those kinds of comments about himself, but when they were also applied to her, he felt like there was something off kilter in the universe. “She doesn’t use headphones, she prefers earbuds.”

“She prefers earbuds.” The seatmate lifted up his pointer finger and pretended to push up imitation glasses on his nose, mimicking Tsukishima. A few of the other classmates chuckled a little in response.

He just rolled his eyes. Then he pulled out his flip phone, sending her a quick message.

To- (soulmate 😐): i just defended your honor i should be rewarded

From- (soulmate 😐): no

To- (soulmate 😐): i wonder what i’ll be getting as my gift

From- (soulmate 😐): what do you want, i’m in class

To- (soulmate 😐): i want a reward for keeping your name clear from these hooligans i go to school with

From- (soulmate 😐): …

To- (soulmate 😐): wow

To- (soulmate 😐): you must really care about me

From- (soulmate 😐): sure do.

Tsukishima shoved his phone back into his pocket. Tapping his fingers along to the beat of the song playing in his headphones, the wood of his desk numbing his fingers a little bit from the resistance.

They were slowly becoming- something. He couldn’t sense if they were friends, more than friends, less than friends, or even in the realm of being in a relationship.

But she did give him encouraging words from time to time, such as his favorite thing she’s ever told him right before the Inter-High tournament began.

He had almost swooned dramatically when she had come up to him and told him, “I hope you don’t trip on your shoe laces and that you can make one half decent block,” before going back to her own team to hand out water bottles.

After the last day of the tournament, and Karasuno not making it to nationals, but rather Date Tech making it, she had found him sitting on a bench all alone near the laundry room of the gym.

She didn’t say anything. She just sat down next to him, bumping her knee into his.

“I don’t want to joke around right now. We almost had it in that last set.” Tsukishima felt bad for being so prickly with her, but he had completely fumbled some of his blocks and he felt like an embarrassment.

“I’m not making any jokes.”

What she did next did come as a surprise to him, she pulled his hand from how it was clasped with his other one, resting over his legs in front of him. She intertwined their fingers and pressed the back of his hand to her lips.

She mumbles something that he can’t quite distinguish, but then she pressed a kiss to each one of his knuckles. When she finished what seemed like a small ritualistic behavior, she rested their hands on her thigh.

Tsukishima held down a smirk that was attempting to crawl over his face. In an almost craving way, he broke his hand free, and instead gripped the expanse of her bare thigh, going as far as pushing his pinkie and ring finger under her skirt a little.

She makes eye contact with him and gives him a flat look.

“What?” He feigns ignorance so well he might as well be considered an imbecile of the highest regard.

“Yeah, right. I’ll let it slide because you’re being whiney and ornery.”

His smirk really did have a mind of its own. He wondered what else she’d let slide just because he was in a sour mood.

He pushed his hand up just a little more, but she gripped his wrist bringing his hand down to her knee instead of her thigh.

“Okay, that’s enough kindness and affection for one day.” She stood up, ruffling Tsukishima’s hair since she could now reach it while he was sitting down. “We can hang out at mine if you want later. You did great today Kei. Sometimes we just lose. That’s how life is. We lose and we win.”

He grabs her hand as it’s still in his hair.

The air is stagnant.

He looks up to her, brown eyes slightly narrowed but containing more in them than she could distinguish. She felt like he was studying her for an exam of sorts. She returned his glare with ease, looking right into his eyes.

“We’re so much alike it hurts sometimes.” He lets the words out softly, if she hadn’t been paying careful attention to him then the squeaks in the gym would’ve overpowered his voice.

“Well, that’s why we’re soulmates. Built in best buddies.”

She left him alone, to consider her words. Buddies?

What the hell did she mean by buddies?

At her house, Tsukishima felt comfortable. The moment he crossed the threshold, the smell of fresh linen, honey lemon tea and her shampoo overpowered any sort of smell he had carried with him throughout the day. He had gone home and changed into casual clothes, then he made his way to her house. The walk to her house was long enough to let him ponder, keeping his hands warm in the pockets of his zip up hoodie.

He slid the hood of his jacket down when her mom opened the door and greeted him, and he absorbed the feeling of being at her house. He had decided to not text her, assuming that she would know that he wanted to hang out.

“She’s in her room, you should be able to just go in. Does your mom know you’re here?” Her mom took Tsukishima’s jacket from him and hung it up on the coat rack.

“Yes she does. Do you need me to leave at a specific time?” Tsukishima remembered his manners and bowed in gratitude to the older woman.

“Well, if it was up to me, I’d be fine with you sleeping over instead. She’s the one you have to get through to.” When she laughed to herself a little, Tsukishima nodded, deciding to make his way down the stairs to the basement bedroom. He ignored the use of the word ‘instead’.

He never should ignore ‘instead’ because ‘instead’ hurts a lot more than he could realize.

In the moments following him opening her bedroom door, he got a shirt thrown at him and was witnessing something that made his jaw clench tighter than ever before.

“Kei, what-” She pushed the curly brown haired boy off her bed, he was shirtless, and the shirt Tsukishima was holding in his hands likely belong to Mr. Wide-Eyed-Frozen-in-Place.

“What- what-” He fake stuttered, replicating her reactive words, then he spat out, “What the hell more like it.”

The curly haired brunette looked between Tsukishima and her rapidly. He tried to cut the tension with a laugh. “I’m Ito, nice to meet you.”

“Oh, shut up you Dr. Suess-wanna be.” Tsukishima threw the shirt back at him. He scrambled to shrug it over his shoulders, Tsukishima then noticed that his shoulders were much broader than Tsukishima’s own. A self-consciousness that he didn’t know was possible crept up, crawling and leaching itself on each of the prongs on his spine. He shuddered.

“Well, I’m just gonna,” Ito went to hug her goodbye but a scoff from Tsukishima deterred the action.

Tsukishima folded his arms from where he was standing. She bit down on her bottom lip, lips that Tsukishima noticed were particularly swollen and plump.

“This is just great.” Tsukishima sat down next to her on the bed, she curled her feet up, so she could wrap her arms around her legs and rest her head on her knees. “I suppose that you’re one of those people who view the whole soulmate thing as arbitrary.”

“I suppose you’re one of those people who view soulmates as sacred then.” Tsukishima can tell she’s joking around a little. If there was anything to genuinely joke about then he would’ve been the one making the joke.

He shoved her legs a little, so she slipped on the bed and broke out of her fake shell of limbs.

“Ito?” Tsukishima posed.

She filled in the gaps, “Ito Yuuta, second year at Aoba Johsai, swim team captain, biggest dork I’ve ever met.” She did like him though, he was nice, he just didn’t have the same charming wit that Tsukishima had. She felt a little bit like a complete jerk now realizing that Tsukishima had seen her kissing someone who wasn’t him.

“So you’ll let just any loser kiss you then?”

“Just preparing myself for you, cutie pie.” She reaches out and pinches his cheek.

Tsukishima fake vomited, sticking a finger almost into his mouth.

They rubbed off the strangeness, and she mentally took a note to lose Ito Yuuta’s number.

She pursed her lips, “I’m not quite ready to be with you the way I think you want to be with me.”

His mouth goes dry, and he emptily chews, trying to break apart the stale taste in his mouth. He never realized just how serious it all could be. Soulmates at seventeen. The way that he perceives it is that, you’re supposed to be the one who knows you best, and intrinsically, your soulmate was supposed to be that. How are you supposed to be soulmates with someone if you didn’t even know them well enough to order their food at the corner store?

He figures this is the moment he makes a shift. He’d just have to work harder to get to know her. And he’d have to stake a claim. Maybe claim was the wrong word, but clarifying to her that they were something rather than nothing to each other was the highest priority.

“I got myself a stupid soulmate.” He chimed.

Instead of a funny retort from her, she just smiled. He laid back onto her bed, and she copied the motion. He had his hands on his stomach, tapping his abdomen. She rolled onto her side, brushing against his fringe a little.

“Just, uh, don’t go around kissing other dudes.” Tsukishima closed his eyes and brought a hand up to his face. “I sound totally batshit crazy. Do whatever you want, I just don’t want to witness whatever that was ever again.”

She laughed, and it was like they were in another world. They both agreed to just be friends, for now.

He wondered if they’d ever become more than this in-between. Was there an expiration on becoming something with his soulmate? Some people never did much with theirs, choosing to remain as friends. Some people got married as soon as possible. Others bided their time and waited until they were ready to handle the responsibility of someone’s heart.

She agreed to not kiss anyone else for the time being.

They watched Clueless on her TV, and he kept complaining that it was weird that a fifteen year old was in love with a college kid, or that the college kid actually reciprocated. Not to mention the whole step-sibling thing.

“I don’t know, college kids have a sort of je ne sais quoi. Think of Akiteru for example, he’s just like Paul Rudd in this movie- entirely delicious.”

“I might have to actually drown myself in the tears of my ancestors, they'd be ashamed of you, betraying me for my brother.”

“I’d never do such a thing, but if Akiteru wanted a taste test, who am I to deny-”

Tsukishima sat up and covered her mouth with his hand. He slowly shook his head from side to side. It was damning how riled up he could get with just one statement from her. Though, he supposes they match that way, knowing exactly which chord to strike in order to make the other entirely irate.

In third year, it was much more common for them to spend time together, still with an ambiance of annoyance but underneath all the banter, all the forced charm, all the pseudointellectual grown-up talk, they were just them.

There he was, jumping up for another block, shifting his feet from where he had been sitting and lunging upwards, fingers outstretched just barely going over the net. He landed, having successfully blocked Hinata’s spike. In response, Hinata groaned and pulled on his hair, Kageyama shrugged.

Yamaguchi clapped his hands, telling the juniors on the team why Tsukishima’s block was successful and how to replicate his technique.

“Or you know, just grow taller and not have to work on technique.” He laughed in response to Yamaguchi’s glare.

Tsukishima had grabbed a towel from Yachi and was drying the sweat from his hair. His shoulders were sore from the work out he and Kageyama had done the night before. He was aiming to see how much width he could put onto his shoulders before the school year was over. Kageyama was already three centimeters broader than him despite them starting at around the same shoulder width.

Once the gym had been cleaned, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were changing in the locker room. Yamaguchi fidgets with his ponytail hair tie.

“You need to get a haircut, your whole shaggy thing is a major deterrent for any sort of friendship we have going on.”

“Maybe if your hair was longer, she’d actually come to watch us practice. And you could finally put all those lateral raises and shoulder presses to good use. You know, for your aesthetic purposes in trying to get hotter for her.” Yamaguchi finished taking his shirt off and ran hands through his hair, turning around and trying to wave the strands in Tsukishima’s face.

Tsukishima grabbed the top of Yamaguchi’s head and shoved him away. “She can’t come watch us play because she’s busy with her team, my little manager extraordinaire.” He faked jazz hands and put his regular shirt back on, stuffing the volleyball uniform into his black duffel bag.

She had given him a keychain, of herself. Well, it was her photo in a holder that was decorated with dinosaurs and strawberries, there were shaker emblems in the hollow space of the rectangular cube, of stars and volleyballs. It was a visual atrocity, none of it working together cohesively, but he loved the keychain all the same.

It dangled from his duffel bag when he slung it over his shoulder, and Yamaguchi chuckled a little, rushing to put his shirt on so he could walk out of the gym with Tsukishima.

“Wait up!”

It was a shade of light orange fading into purple outside, and Kageyama, Hinata, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima were making their way down the street to the crossroads where they went their separate paths. She usually met up with Tsukishima there as well, despite his reluctance for her to walk around late at night.

Seeing her with a wad of tissue up her nose and a pack of ice on the side of her face was ultimately the worst way to put an end to the night. The other boys quickly caught on and bid their farewells, sensing an air of undisclosed intimacy.

Tsukishima sucked in a deep breath, setting his duffle bag down on the ground next to her and using his hand to hold the ice pack for her. He used his other hand to lift her chin up so he could see if there was still blood coming out from her nose.

He didn’t even have to say anything for her to start explaining, she kept trying to hold the ice pack herself, but he kept anxiously swatting her hand away so he could hold the pack himself.

“It was a stray ball gone entirely haywire. The first years we have are on crack cocaine I swear.” She winced a little when he applied some pressure from the ice pack to her temple. “Ouch, stop, let me do it instead.”

He let out a clicking sound, being gentler with the ice pack.

“It’s nice that you care, but please I need to get home.”

“Just a little bit longer.” Tsukishima pulled her down to the street curb, so they could sit down. “The best they could do for you was an ice pack and a wad of paper to stick up your nostril?”

“I know, I’m out here working my ass off for the volleyball hooligans and I don’t even get princess treatment when they pop me in the face with their balls.” She sets the ice pack next to her foot, kicking at the plastic a little.

He laughed, his shoulders shaking a little.

She pulled out the tissue, tucking the bloody end into the main body of the tissue and shoving it into her pocket. She covered her nose, knowing there was some dried blood on her upper lip, she turned her head around so he couldn’t see her.

“Hey, c’mon, I know what blood looks like,” He shakes her knee a little, teasing her. “I think I have a wipe in my bag,” Tsukishima pulled the bag into his lap, searching around. He hands her the disposable wipe and she rubs it under her nose.

“How do I look?” She turns back to him, giving him a smile.

“You look great. You always look great.”

She bumps into his shoulder with her own and he winces slightly.

She frowns a little, “You got hurt at practice?”

“Ah, let’s go with that.”

She figures that since he gave her something to clean her face off, she should give him something back.

“Want me to rub your shoulders a little?” She brought a hand to the shoulder closest to her, and started to rub her thumb in a circular motion on the back blade.

He swallows, his fingers twitching from a want to hold her hand that was on his back. She shifts so she’s behind him, sitting on her calves as her knees press against his back a little. Her thumbs are on his shoulder blades and her fingers wrap around the bulk of his shoulder to reach his collarbones. Her ministrations reduce the aching in his muscles but only intensify the buzz he gets when he’s around her.

“If you keep doing this I might fall in love with you.” It’s wistless but carries an appetite that itches to be satiated.

The sun had finally set, streaking the sky with strands of reds and yellows at the cusp of the edge of the earth that was visible to them. The sky directly overhead was deeply purple and dark navy blue. Some white splatters of stars dotted the universe.

“Who’s to say you aren’t already in love with me?” She wraps her arms around his neck, resting her chin on the top of his head.

He moves his head, and hers falls down a little, no longer able to use his head as a support for her chin, he presses a quick kiss to her jaw.

“Now that’s a great question from you, let’s keep those kinds of inquiries coming.”

She liked to pester him with questions well into college, especially as they sat side by side in their anthropology class.

“So how do I tell the difference between the 1400s and 1300s? Professor keeps saying we can clearly see the difference between a vase from the 1350s and a vase from the 1410s but honestly they both look like piles of crust to me.” She was tugging on his hand under the desk they were sitting at. He just kept taking his notes, transcribing what the T.A was talking about for an upcoming exam.

“Okay, Kei. I see how it is. Leaving your lovely girlfriend to struggle in the same class you begged her to take with you.”

He shushes her a little, grabbing her hand with his free one. “I’ll help you after class.”

He got a glance of the zeroes in black on his wrist.

He looks at her wrist, matching zeroes. He was glad that he bumped into her that day.

They were soulmates. It was plain to see, plain to feel, plain to understand.

The T.A closes a notebook and dismisses the class, he announces he’s going to his office to grab something and then he’ll be back to answer some questions.

Tsukishima sets his pen down and grabs her face with both hands, she raises an eyebrow at him and tries to lean back.

“This doesn’t feel very academic in nature, this is definitely not an answer to my question, so what is this?” She gesticulates her hands between the two of them.

“This is me kissing you.”

He rushed to close the distance between them. Their noses bumped into each other before he tilted his head a little bit. When he slid his tongue into her mouth, she whimpered a little and nudged his chest. But he stayed connected to her. Tsukishima could hear the classmates that hadn’t left yet making some barraging comments, he didn’t care.

He tried to pull her into him, lifting her slightly by the back of her knee and trying to bring it around his body with zeal. He licked her bottom lip before nipping at it. She went with it, resting a hand on his chest and leaning into the kiss slightly.

Tsukishima pushed the rolling desk away slightly, and used a hand to bring her chair closer to his. When she placed her other hand behind his neck and toyed with the strands of hair along the back of his head he kissed her with more pressure. He kept trying to coax her into his lap as he kept tugging on the back of her knee.

The T.A got back and dropped a stack of papers, seeing as Tsukishima had just given up on coaxing her and had entirely just pulled her into his lap of his own volition. She was so embarrassed when the teacher’s assistant had, in a voice barely below a scream, chastised them and said they’d need to write a paper on proper classroom conduct.

Tsukishima had zoomed through his essay, spending the rest of the hour in the office drawing shapes on her back with his fingers, lackadaisical with his motions. She had almost, just barely, snapped at him when he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He drew a heart on her back in a wide sweep motion, before changing his tactic and using just his finger tips to scratch her back lightly.

“You are not sorry.” She said with teeth clenched, pausing writing her essay.

“Yeah. I’m not. I just really wanted to kiss you.” To Tsukishima’s words, she just clicked her tongue at him.

“There’s nothing hot about anthropology so I don’t know what gave you the animalistic urge to kiss me like that.”

He pouted a little, then picked up the pen from her paper and twirled it between his fingers.

“While anthropology may not be hot, you definitely are.”

She groaned in response, trying to take her pen back. He just shook his head no and gave a traditional Tsukishima ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’. He took the paper from her as well, writing the rest of the outlined points rapidly so they could get out of the office and into their apartment.

“Remember when you kissed me in the middle of class, and then the T.A got so mad at us. I want more memories like that, and I suppose I’ll get them because now we’re legally stuck together.” Her hands were shaking a little, reading the paper in front of everyone.

Tsukishima was easily able to ignore everyone else, focusing on the way she had done her hair. He had heard the vows beforehand. She didn’t trust anyone else but him to be a proofreader for her little speech. She also wanted him to get out all the cringes so he didn’t tease her during the wedding because then her dad would’ve gotten mad at him.

They had gone over their vows together the night before, curled up on their couch, joking and laughing at what the other had written.

“You cannot say that you can’t wait to replicate our college graduation night over again, that’s foul.”

“We have a better car now.” He shrugged. She hit him with her stack of drafts repeatedly.

“And you need to add in how much you love me.”

“I’m marrying you, isn’t that clear enough for a statement of love?” Tsukishima groaned and threw his head back onto the couch.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna cut it, mister. I need you on your hands and knees in gratitude. I need you wallowing in desperation for me. I need you to be obsessed.”

Tsukishima could do that. He quickly wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her over his lap so she was straddling his thighs. He let his hands rest on the small of her back, before sliding around to rub her thighs languorously. Tsukishima sighed in contentment when she slumped over him a little, tucking her head into the nook of his neck.

“There’s a lot I’m sorry for,” Tsukishima blinked a few times, she hadn’t included a bit like this when he read her draft. “And there’s a lot I wish that I could go back and redo. I’m sorry for you because I know that I’m stubborn, and I’m sorry that I made you wait until college so we could date, despite knowing we were soulmates in high school. You did a great job of sticking it out. And you stuck it out for me, the girl who tried to fight you in the middle of a gymnasium after you accidentally bumped into her.”

Tsukishima didn’t expect to get choked up. When he looked over to his family, Akiteru was sobbing uncontrollably as their mom rubbed Akiteru’s back. Tsukishima glanced over to his friends, and Yamaguchi was forcing a smile despite looking completely overwhelmed with tenderness.

“I’m gonna tease you now so don’t bite my head off when this reception is over okay? I stuck it out too for you, especially when you kept trying to kiss me all throughout high school, or when you would slide your hand over my thigh.”

Tsukishima blushed and he used his hands to cover his face with an incredulous noise erupting from his throat. He hoped that her parents would have selective hearing for that specific part of her vows.

“But, you chipped away at me. Slowly. With a sort of dedication that would impress even the builders of the Pyramids. I wish that everyone got to see that side of you, but I’m glad that I got to experience it first hand. The side of Tsukishima Kei where he knows what he wants and pursues any path to achieve it. My Kei, who when faced with obstacles, decides that the obstacles aren’t a problem for him and that he can keep going.”

He wipes away the tears prickling away at his eyes.

“So, here’s to the future. Here’s to our lives pressing onward. I say that we win some and that we lose some, and you say back to me that you deserve a reward for doing either. Winning or losing, you want a reward for the experience. From this experience, getting to know me, and then dating me, and then being engaged to me, I hope that now that we’re moving onward that I’m enough of a reward.”

He knows he isn’t supposed to interrupt her, but he does, “You’re the only reward I need.”

She turns the paper around. She’s laughing a little, ignoring the tears on her face. Tsukishima looks at where her finger is pointing to. And right below her line of hoping she’s enough of a reward, clear as day is a prediction she had written.

Cue Kei saying something cringey in response, 10 bucks it’s “You’re the only reward I need.”

Tsukishima clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes.

But it was true.

She was all he needed.

He remembers reading something about soulmates during high school. Or maybe it was about relationships in general, but that’s not the point. The article had said something along the lines of, when you date someone you’re competing with that person.

You compete to be worth something to that someone, to be worth the time they would be spending on themself instead.

Tsukishima thought that was all a load of bullshit.

Love isn’t something you compete for, or something you build up virtuous worth for. Love is natural and doesn’t require anything but patience and effort. He didn’t need to compete to be worth anything to her, he just had to be himself.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #soulmate au #lilly's red string of fate #fluff #haikyuu fluff #slow burn?#slow burn mostly #he just pines a lot #playful banter out the wazoo #playful banter

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physalian · 10 months ago

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Could you make a post about a character slowly losing their humanity while trying to hold onto it? It's a main theme in my current WIP and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to go about it.

Losing their humanity like “The Fly” or “Metamorphosis” where it’s a curse/transformation/sickness, and is both quite literal and mental? Or losing their humanity as in, a character has done unspeakable things and is spiraling into psychopathy?

There’s so many directions you could go here depending on what your genre, rating, and tone is. First, you have to define what humanity means to you as an author and what it means to your world and your characters. Murder might be the worst crime in one novel, and a casual occurrence in another. So, at what point is your character no longer “human”?

This is incredibly specific to your story and advice here is definitely not ‘one size fits all’ so I’ll do my best and I’ll use a very popular movie to back me up: The Dark Knight.

Harvey Dent goes from saint to savage in less than 3 hours, about… I think three weeks maybe in-universe? The movie pulls this off in a few ways:

Right off the bat, there’s hints that this character has a loose circuit somewhere. Comics fans know he becomes Two Face, but layman audiences are still thrown a bone with Harvey’s rather quick rise to prominence in infamously-crime-ridden Gotham. So, he’s not starting as Mr. Rodgers.

Harvey’s job puts immense pressure on him to perform with a lot to lose if he fails. This makes his room for error to avoid catastrophe very narrow and raises the stakes for every action he takes. In essence, any one mistake can be devastating, making catastrophe more believable in the story.

When he starts losing, he loses a lot very quickly. Harvey is bombarded with the mob gremlins trying to escape the law, the Joker running around blowing up holes in the justice system and raining chaos everywhere, his wishy-washy girlfriend who’s hesitant to accept his proposal, and increasing pressure to hand over his hero, Batman, to a maniac, to stop the murders, and he can’t do much of anything about it. Even with small victories, it’s one step forward and three steps back and he’s being fundamentally and existentially thwarted at every turn.

He’s desperate, afraid, and powerful, three *very* bad traits in combination. His slippery slide into madness gets a little steeper when he kidnaps a criminal and screams through an interrogation, then it drops off a cliff when Rachel dies instead of him in a so-called game of chance.

“Chance” here, and Harvey’s ability and presumption of control, is his whole identity. He’s Two-Face. He’s got a double-headed coin to rig his bets. When Rachel dies, he’s lost control over everything, and he just shatters. She dies and he lives and he abandons his core values to embrace Joker’s vision of absolute anarchy, because what’s the point in trying to fight fate?

All of this works despite this monster of a plot, where he’s not even the main villain, because he had so far to fall, and the world of Batman lends itself to insanity coming on quickly. Joker even says that “madness is like gravity, all you need is a little push”.

So without having any details on your WIP I’d have this to say:

Figure out what moral code or person or object your character holds most central to their identity

Circle the drain of destroying it, forcing the character to grow desperate enough to protect it, going to ends they normally wouldn’t with the best of intentions

Destroy that thing

Let them crumble in the aftermath as they can no longer reconcile their core beliefs with the world they live in, and lash out as the wounded animal they’ve become

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #character design #character development #character arcs #descent into madness #the dark knight #harvey dent

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laugtherhyena · 5 months ago

Text

And here's some silly fun facts about the most normal public safety agent ever

-She was fully aware of how dangerous working as a public safety devil hunter is, hence why Hina trained her skills with the swords for 2 years before joining the bureal. She would practive moves in the Akiyama estate and out them to test by hunting devils in the forest nearby, which is how she eventually ran into Mayura.

-She was skeptical of the Wolf devil becoming friendly with her at first and had a goal of killing her as a way to wrap up her pre-public safety training, she gave up on the idea after some time and it's a topic her and Mayura laught about every once in a while.

-She was trained by Kishibe when she first joined public safety, taking into account his "loose screws" philosophy when it comes to the hunters, he considers Hina one of the best ones he's trained. This sentiment is why he sticks up to her to help work out her problems with the government in part 2.

-Hina was originally from divison 2 and had two work partners before moving to division 4 to work with Mayura, one died in a mission and the other quit public safety. Hina left one of her father's swords on his gravestone and gifted one for the other the last time they saw one another.

-Since making a contract outside an official devil hunting post is illegal and she made her contract with Mayura before joining the bureal, through her time on division 2 she kept her contract with the Wolf devil a secret and wore an eyepatch over her yellow eye (the one acquired in the contract). When Mayuta came to public safety, she fell onto Makima's division and told her everything about her and Hina, Makima called her to have a talk about that and said she wouldn't press charges against her for illegal devil contract and hiding the location of a strong devil if she moved to her division.

-During the first few months on division 4 the two always went on missions alongside Aki and Himeno because Makima ordered him to keep and eye on the two and report to her if they were doing anything that wasn't by the books.

-For the entirety of part 1 neither Hina nor Mayura were completely under Makima's control like most of other characters.

-She's seen herself dying so many times via the Future devil's powers before reacting accordingly just in time to save her skin. This is the core of her fighting style. Which led her to become overconfident in her abilites that she hardly believes she can really die until the point she's at death's door.

-Since she lost her sense of taste in the contract with the Future devil, Hina eats the most heatly and balanced died for her lifestyle since how it tastes doesn't matter to her. She's generally one of public safety's healthy hunters too since she regrains from smoking or drinking since she wants to live a long life.

-She did go out drinking one time with Aki, Himeno and the other division 4 agents sometime prior to the events of part 1. It didn't go well at all because Himeno got drunk and ended up kissing Hina, there was no puke involved, but it's the whole reason she dislikes her so much and avoids her.

-The thing is that Hina has a strong aversion to being touched/physical intimacy, she doesn't like others touching her unless she's very very close to the person so you can probably guess why the Himeno thing made he tremendously upset and and uncomfortable. After the fact whenever she sees someone who is about to get touchy with her (be it just putting a hand on her shoulder, leaning close, headbutting or anything regardless of how simple or normal it seems) she will react to stop them from doing so in a similar fashion to how she reacts to upcoming attacks using the Future devil's power.

-Hina is a really weird person in general, she will talk and start conversations with anyone but she's not necessarily a sociable person and will oftentimes be straight to the point and/or blunk with her opinons/words. Her lack of elaboration and smiley face regardless of the situation can often lead to people getting the wrong impressions of her, she's far from the most popular hunter amids her peers in part 1.

-She has a neutral stance on devils, if she has to kill one to achieve a goal, she will, but if she doesn't then their existence doesn't bother her at all + she understands devils really well after being around Mayura for so long, to the point she has an easier time interacting and getting them to listen to her than the other humans around oublic safety. Which is a major factor to why she was promoted to new head of Division 4 and devil related affairs in part 2.

-Both of her arms have a lot of self-inflicted scars from the times during missions where Mayura got heavily Injured an Hina opened a cut on them to give her blood. After her fight with Quanxi in the International assassins arc she gets even more scars across her body from Quanxi's sword attacks.

-She goes back to the Akiyama estate every so often to tidy up the place and make sure everything her fater treasured so much is still there in prestige condition.

#ily mrs.Akiyama you're so so normal #csm #csm oc #chainsaw man #Hina Akiyama #hyena ramblings #hyena scribbles

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am-i-soup · 8 months ago

Text

Hot Wheels (a tfp fanfic)

Chapter 1: Uncanny Valley, Nevada

AO3 || Chapter 2

Summary: So, Lena was abducted by aliens. Robot aliens. That's- no, it's not cool! She could die at any moment! So what if the red guy was hilarious to rile up and watched horror movies with her? And his husband was like the fun uncle she never had? Their boss wouldn't hesitate to step on her, and the screechy beanpole had already threatened to stab her, like, five times. She can only bullshit her way into being useful for so long. If she could just find a way to contact Miko... oh, and get help. That, too.

-----

When Lena thought of aliens, she pictured xenomorphs and flesh abominations like that thing from The Thing: vaguely man-ish shapes that make your brain go "Hey, I don't like that" because why does it share the same body plan as a human? Why is it trying to look like us? She was all over that uncanny valley-type shit. Invasion? Get that girl a baseball bat and some vaguely spherical objects and set her loose. Unleeess the aliens had plans to abolish capitalism - because then she'd switch up lickety-split. She was ready to bash in some billionaire brains (what little they had, heheh).

Lena never would've guessed alien cars. She didn't even think 'alien' when the door of the speed demon she giddily tried to get an autograph from opened to reveal no driver at all. The only thought running through her mind when a taser popped out of the dash was, Even the cars are opps, followed by, Jean's gonna be so pissed. Her skateboard clattered to the pavement as her body fell limp into the idling sports car. A melodious beep-beep, beep, beep-beep twittered from the watch around her limp wrist, falling silent after another light zap.

"Ohh, I'm so fragged," said the sports car. "Breakdown, how mad do you think Lord Crazy-eyes will be if I show up with a fleshie?"

Had Lena known she'd get abducted that night, she would've at least packed a sweater. Or, y'know, avoided it altogether. Catching up to the shmancy red racer with those hard-as-hell yellow rims after he dusted everyone else probably wasn't the smartest move, but excitement had won over caution. Her foster parents would be giving her the most baffled reactions if they knew, and then another conversation about impulsive thoughts that should stay thoughts and, "Where is your survival instinct, pastelita? Look: you're already giving me greys."

The day had started good. Correction: decent, considering it was hot as balls and she had a math test. On a Friday. Lena shambled through her morning routine and tied back her side-swept hair to avoid brushing it. Her baseball cap covered the shaved side, proudly displaying the number 04 stitched above the red brim. Wyatt emerged from his bedroom, a similar case of bedhead making his brown curls wilder than usual. His casual formalwear was more put-together than he, and would remain so because brushing was for dumb losers, probably.

Jean, notably not dumb or a loser, had pulled her hair up into a thick bun of dark waves; a colourful bandana laid overtop. Remarkedly more effort, made obvious by the minimal effort of matching with work overalls.

Jean squinted and gestured to Lena's hair. "You're leaving so much out. What's even the point of putting it up?"

"I like it," Lena drowsily defended, flicking her head aside to adjust the free chunk of blonde hair framing one side of her face. "It's cool."

"'Cool' when we were your age meant being able to see your whole field of vision. Eesh, at least clip it back - how do you expect to see the ball like that?" Lena responded with a shrug and Jean exhaled in a huff. "Alright, pastelita, get your 'cool'-lata in the car." Jean carried out her husband's mobility aid and said, "You want your cane, hon?"

"Eh, might as well," Wyatt said whilst fighting a yawn. "My knee doesn't want me dead today."

The three of them piled into the car and Jean pulled onto the road. Lena decided now was a good time.

"I was gonna go to the skate park after practice," she announced.

Jean glanced at her in the mirror. There went the eyebrows. "For how long?"

"Couple'a hours."

"Uh-huh." And the dubious tone...

"Promise I'll be back before dark! And Jaiden and the other skaters are gonna be there. I won't forget again."

Wyatt twisted around to see Lena better. "That's fine. Just set your watch, 'kay? Seven o'clock. I better hear that front door open before seven thirty or I'll sic Jean on you."

"Like a sack of potatoes," Jean said. The car's engine rumbled fiercely as they paused at the stop light, amplifying her threat.

Remembering last time - and the times before that - Lena's face contorted. A set of rapid nods turned her into a great impersonation of a bobblehead. "Yep. Yep. Seven. Understood." She set the alarm on her vibrantly pink watch under Wyatt's scrutiny. It beeped. He smiled, satisfied, and settled properly in his seat.

Lena helped Wyatt extract his walker from the trunk and Jean drove off with a goodbye that was far more cheerful than anyone should be this early in the morning. It was pay day, wasn't it? Lena should ask Wyatt to sneak her some coffee from the break room. He caved easy.

Wyatt went through the side door up the ramp while Lena trudged her way toward the main entrance of the school. He was thrilled for class, which made one of them. Only he could make computers and programming somehow fun. Other students waited on the sparse lawn and parking lot of Jasper Memorial High School, walking in early like punctual weirdos or loitering like her. Lena dropped her backpack and stepped onto her board, rolling around the tiny parking lot. She sourly eyed the spot of the missing bench, removed for exactly the reason one might think. Lena mourned the sick moves she got off that metal bench.

Lena spotted a kid from class studying and groaned. She'd skip, but she didn't want to disappoint her foster parents like that again. She cringed when she recalled the first time she did skip - or, rather, the first time they becameaware she'd skipped - back when she wouldn't bat an eye because what did they care? They just wanted a cheque from the state like every other family that tried to claim they 'Just want what's best for you' and then sent her back when what she wanted didn't fit those rigid little boxes.

The devastated looks on Jean and Wyatt's faces when thirteen-year-old Lena exploded at them was forever burned into her memory. She'd ran afterward, down the driveway and into the night, no destination in mind. And then Jean had found her, curled up on a kiddie slide. Lena faintly remembered the confusion of seeing Jean exit the vehicle, the tentative hope when Jean sat on the slide beside her and just... listened. No adult had ever listened to her before. That was the night Lena knew they were for real. Lena couldn't call them parents - she might never utter the words 'Mom' or 'Dad' - and that was okay. The cool couple that saw a feral pre-teen and said, "That's the one" was good enough for her. They joked about wanting a kid, but not the stress of pregnancy or toddler years. "Pre-baked," Wyatt had once teased.

Lena's hip bleeped. She paused her skating to fish out the hungry Tamagotchi clipped to her cargo pants. She'd made it her mission to care for the digital pet since Mi-

"Leee!" a voice squealed, followed by a pair of arms wrapping around her waist. "Hi!"

Hey, speaking of!

"Hi," Lena greeted with a big smile on her face. "Plans still solid?"

Lena heard Miko's grin. "Oh, yeah. I'm so pumped. Weekend Wreck-fest is in. The. Bag! I got Raf to download basically every slasher and horror onto a USB for me." Miko dangled the USB in Lena's face, and Lena stored it in her pocket.

"Suh-weet! Jean's letting us have the garage. We're gonna move the TV and couch in."

"Uh, don'tcha mean Jean is gonna move them?"

"Hey, I got muscle!" Lena flexed her arms, squishy with stubborn baby fat. Miko poked an unimpressive bicep. "These babies got me top batter."

"Is that even a real title?"

"It totally is."

"Okay, 'batter baby'."

"Batt- what?"

"Nothing, baby, what's the batter with you?"

Lena scoffed out a laugh and spun around to gently bop Miko on her massive forehead. "Dude," Lena said, "that was so bad."

"So bad it's good?"

"No, just bad." Lena playfully pushed Miko away and kicked off on her skateboard. "Where are you getting these, Puns 101 for Dummies? You gotta step up your game, dude."

Miko trailed after Lena, a bubbly bound to her gait. "Hey, I'm always at the top of my game!" A loud-ass horn honked and Miko spun around to wave enthusiastically at the green SUV. "See ya later! Put some dents in those junkheaps for me." Its headlights flashed, then Miko's friend drove off.

Lena was wary of the guy at first, but she'd never seen Miko so ecstatic as the few months she'd known him. Military, Miko had said, and then snickered when Lena mimed gagging herself.

"Not American military," Miko had clarified before going off about something else.

Lena had spoken to the SUV's owner a couple times. He went by the nickname Bulk and seemed genuine enough, nothing sinister on the surface. Friendly and loud - songs Lena recognized often blared from the speakers when he picked Miko up for sci-fi club. A goofball, and the kind of energy that got along with Miko's like a house fire. Lena was just glad Miko was making friends. Small town middle-of-nowhere America was super rough, especially for a foreign kid who couldn't fit in, and who didn't want to. A flash of orange hair caught Lena's eye. She met Vince's bitter gaze and put her finger and her thumb in the shape of an L on her forehead, sticking out her tongue for good measure. He sneered and turned back to his buddies. Lena smirked.

The bell rang. Kids funneled into the building. Lena made it halfway to homeroom before she had to navigate backwards against the sea of teenagers to fetch her forgotten backpack. She collapsed into her chair just as the pledge and national anthem started over the PA system. As per usual, Lena remained in her seat. Also per usual, the teacher glared at her. Lena passive-aggressively adjusted her baseball cap, drawing attention to the pins clustered on it that sported all sorts of slogans such as THIS LAND IS THEIR LAND and LAND ISN'T FREE. Yeah, none of the teachers liked her. But Lena wasn't here to be liked. Supposedly, she was here for an education. In a system that squashed individuality and trained students to sit down, shut up, memorize, and obey.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lena spotted Miko doodling in her sketchbook. Lena texted a sequence of emojis embodying all the joy Lena couldn't contain (unamused, several Z's, sleepy). Miko replied, equally as zealous (sick, skull, ghost).

"Girls! Phones away!" the teacher barked over announcements, tapping a ruler on her desk. "Do I need to take them?"

Lena shot over one more emoji (barf) before tucking her phone away and exchanging it for a textbook to inanely flick through, one knee persistently jiggling as it so frequently did the moment she became idle. She glanced at the clock, which hadn't moved in five minutes. Lena leaned back, suppressing a groan. The day could not be over soon enough.

Soon enough, the day was over. Thank fuck.

School dragged on and on and on, the only reprieve being lunch - when she got to lounge around with Miko at their spot - and gym class, where Lena was able to go batshit during dodgeball and climb on things that were actually meant to be climbed on (trees didn't count, according to faculty). Lena had softball practice after, and boy, was she glad Jean made her carry around a tube of sunscreen. Whoof, that Nevada sun would kill a man. Miko hung around to cheer her on and snap some pics of Lena eating dirt to touch base. Those were going in the scrapbook, for sure. A shower and chugged water bottle later and Lena was off to the skate park. Miko's ride whisked her away, her cries of, "Don't miss me too much!" on the wind. Miko hung out the SUV window, dramatically reaching for Lena like some cheesy romance flick. Lena tried to keep up on her board, and when it was time to split off, blew Miko a kiss that was caught and turned into devil horns.

Jaiden and her gang were chilling on the play structures when Lena rolled up. Jaiden and Kayla were perched atop and hanging upside-down from the spiderweb dome, respectively. Kayla spotted her first and beckoned her over.

"How's it goin', fireball?" said Tami.

"Hello, Padawan. Welcome to my zen zone," Vee said from the ground, flat on their back under a tree and beanie pulled over their eyes. The distinct scent of weed hung around Vee. Lena claimed the free swing next to Tami, who was being pushed by Theo. The group chatted. Theo made the executive decision to skate, and they all migrated over to the cement playground that served as Jasper's skate park. Jaiden, Lena, and Tami joined him while Vee and Kayla spectated, conversation topics leaping to and fro at the whims of neurodivergent teenagers.

"Yo, Lena, you hear about the race later tonight?" Jaiden said.

Suffice it to say, Lena did not stay at the park. The race location was scribbled in her science notebook, which had also coincidentally become a second doodle book for Miko. She rolled till the dirt roads forced her to kick it on foot, board strapped to her backpack.

Honk-honk!

A bright blue muscle car rumbled past. Lena trotted after it. The older teens that she stuck to like a determined burr had no interest in street races, but they kept an ear out for Lena, who absolutely did. She found the small crowd huddled around and the line-up of vehicles raring to go. Lena preferred being early to ogle at the cars and mingle, but she was happy just to be there. She recognized most of the faces. Street races were one of few recreational activities in Jasper, and they happened every other week if you knew the right people. Considering everyone knew everyone, you'd be hard-pressed not to have at least heard about it.

The blue muscle car sat in its spot, driver cool as a cucumber as she leaned on the door and chatted to whomever. Lena eyeballed the woman's cropped leather jacket and unbothered, confident demeanour. She found herself leaning against a rickety wooden fencepost, totally not mimicking the badass in blue (dammit, she totally was). The driver noticed her and smiled. For some reason, Lena's face heated up.

She called Lena over. "Hey, kid! Nice board. You get that custom done?"

"Yup," said Lena. "I love your car." And your jacket.

"Ah, thanks. Ritika's my baby; I built her from the ground up. You like racing?"

"I love racing. The speed and the- augh, the, y'know, the everything. Boom! Wah-cha!" Combined with pantomimed punches, Lena filled in the blanks. "The whole feeling."

"Ha, yeah, I getcha. Hey, you know what? I'm part of a racing league. We're always looking for new players. If you're interested someday- dhhatt. You got a pen, kid?"

"Lena," Lena said, digging a pencil out of her bag.

"Lena? Thanks for comin' out to cheer me on. My name's Sharwa." Sharwa scribbled on a wrinkled scrap of paper and passed it on. "That's our business number. Hit us up if racing for profit - or just for the hell of it - strikes your fancy. Finish school first, though, huh? Get your education. Don't wanna be a dropout like me."

I wish, Lena thought. Someone yelled; they were about to begin. Lena went to join the crowd of onlookers, but the glossy red sports car pulling up to the function stopped her in her tracks. Lena gawked. Purple flame decals embellished its crimson flanks and eye-sore yellow rims distinguished it from the rest of the competition. Sharwa called out to the driver; Lena didn't hear the reply. Sharwa was grinning. Oh, shit, did they have a rivalry going on? Racing drama!?

Lena inched closer.

"Give it your best shot," oozed a roguish masculine voice, punctuated by a rich rev of his engine. "Victory tastes so much sweeter when they try."

Sharwa laughed. "Put your pedal where your mouth is, batuni."

"Oh, I will."

Racing drama. Cool.

Engines growled. Spectators cheered. The starter raised their hat. Lena held her breathe.

The hat dropped. Dust billowed up in thick clouds as cars roared to life. Lena held her cap in place. Her eyes stung, but she couldn't look away from the beasts tearing up the road, becoming shrinking shapes on the impromptu racetrack. The setting sun burned red on the sand, transforming the desert into a sea of rust. Or blood. Lena scampered over to a cluster of boulders and scaled them. She watched, enraptured. The racers completed one lap, and there was a noticeable lead.

The red car seized a strong first. Chasing his tail was Sharwa and third place, the rest of the pack lagging behind. Red slowed down - or Sharwa caught up? - and then the 180 happened.

Red spun around, keeping his speed and maintaining his position backwards. It was the single most peacocky maneuver Lena had seen, and she was living for it. She wasn't big on NASCAR or actual cars: this is what she loved. Being in the moment, feeling the wind on her skin and the excitement in her veins. It was the thrill she chased when she rolled down steep ramps and pulled a risky stunt mid-air. It was the feeling of rejecting limits and just going for it.

The moment red finished first was the same moment the cops showed up.

"Scatter!" someone shouted, but the crowd had already dispersed. Lena dropped from her watchtower and bolted in the same direction as the victor. Cracked pavement replaced packed dirt and Lena jumped onto her board. Distant sirens wailed behind her. Shadows elongated. Lights of Jasper blinked in the low glow of dusk. Lena caught up to the taillights, to her surprise. Possible introductions ran through her head.

"Hey!" The car jolted in response. Did she startle him? "Wait up!" He sped up, and Lena yelled, "You were awesome back there! Nobody even stood a chance!"

He slowed to a crawl. Lena beamed and kicked her board up into her hands. The car's windows were tinted almost black.

"Hmm. Do go on about how awesome I am," he said.

Lena appealed to his ego with genuine compliments. He was receptive, but that changed when Lena asked him to sign her skateboard. If a car could recoil, this one would. Audible disgust dripped from his tone.

"Keep your primitive twig on wheels to yourself," he said. "There's enough filth clinging to my paint already."

Lena wrinkled her nose. "A 'no' would've worked just fine. Jeez, man. You a dick to all your fans?"

"Just the whiny ones."

Lena wasn't about to let that slide. "Alright. Why don't you come out and say that to my face like a grown-ass man?"

Now, Lena... well, she never claimed to be a genius, but picking a fight with a random man on the outskirts of town - illuminated overhead by a sketchy streetlight - would be obvious to anyone as a bad idea. If this was a horror movie, she'd be yelling at the idiot on-screen to get the fuck outta dodge. Lena, however, functioned on two modes: chilling, and throwing herself at the closest douchebag. Her street cred was insane. So when she rapped on the nearly opaque window, she expected some guy to step out and underestimate her because what could a fifteen-year-old do to him? But nobody did. She cupped a hand around her eyes to peer inside.

The wind was knocked out of her when the door flew open. She stumbled, then rounded the door to confront the-

There was no one inside the vehicle.

A taser shot out of the dashboard and delivered a hearty zap! between her eyes. She toppled forward. A seatbelt snaked around her and hauled her awkwardly into the seat.

Lena's watch beeped. 7:00 lit up the digital display.

Getting kidnapped was probably a good reason for missing curfew, right?

AO3 || Chapter 2

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #soup's on #hot wheels tfp fic #transformers fanfiction #maccadams #maccadam #tfp miko nakadai #tfp knock out #tfp fanfic

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bsgpiece · 1 year ago

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I love your artwork and ideas of Sanami! That evening date one feels like inspiration for a good fanfic. 😄

If there was a love confession between the two of them how do you think it will go? I love to hear your thoughts!

First of all, sorry for taking so long for answering! I really wanted to make an art for this, but I didn't like any of my attempts, so I guess I still have to get better for this!

Well, second... THANK YOUUUU 😭😭💕 That makes so happy, being able to share my art and thoughts and knowing there are people who appreciates them is so heartwarming.

Feel free to write a fanfic about it if you want! Hahaha I'd love to read any SaNami fics 🫶🏻

About love confessions.. Oh, that really gets me. I have this HUGE headcanon (almost an hyperfixation lol) they confessed their love to each other after Whole Cake Island. Yes, I know it's almost a cliché for them, but I still have some details in mind I haven't found in any fanfictions I read until now.

I love the idea of Nami feeling really guilty about not realizing Sanji's true intentions, but still feeling angry for all that happened. Sanji even though was really happy to be back, didn't know how to act around Nami.

They would be weird around each other for a day or two, until one night Nami decides to go after him to talk. Well, there is when my imagination goes wild lol

I wish I have the skill to write a fanfiction about this, but to summarize.. Nami would find Sanji looking like he just cried recently, or maybe still crying. She would feel even more guilty and angrier when he denies it, which will lead to a huge discussion. And I mean huge.

Nami would say everything in her mind. All the good and bad things she thinks about him, about herself (she'll just avoid the use of the "love" word, of course. She's not really ready for admitting such feelings). Things could get physical, breaking stuff, Nami really getting over Sanji, pulling and pushing him over, not knowing whether to get away or closer to him.

We know Sanji, right? He'd be very confused. But he is no fool. A small flame of hope would grow inside his heart. Could Nami actually have romantic feelings for him?

He is more honest to his feelings when it comes to love, specially to Nami. He wasn't sure how she would react, but he tought she already was so mad at him, what did he have to loose? So yes, I believe he would be the first to actually say it. But say it without heart eyes or nosebleeds. Holding her firmly, yet gently, so she wouldn't run from him. Say the "I love you, Nami-san" that really send shivers down her spine, made her legs feel weak and her heart racing.

Nami wouldn't react at first. She would just look at him for a few seconds, not realizing she actually start crying even more than she already was during their fight. When Sanji was starting to think he might shouldn't have done it, she grabs him by his collar and BAM, HOLLYWOOD KISS! 🤣 Really really intense kiss, yes.

Why? Because they would lose theirselves in each other's touch, not really having to think all those feelings through. Just feel them!

After several minutes, they'll have to stop at some point and face each other again. This time feeling a lot lighter than before, she'll finally say "I love you too, Sanji-kun".

Well, you can imagine it however you'd like from now on. I still have more headcanons over this, a few really NSFW 🫣 however, it already became such a long post, I'm sorry.. I get so excited about those two! Hope it made any sense for you guys 🤣🤣

Thank you so much if you read until here! Love to answer your questions 💖

#sanami #sanji x nami #sannami #nami x sanji #sanji #nami #whole cake island #headcanon #long post

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

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Interwoven, but Tangled [2]

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: mild/brief angst, fluff, pining, cursing

Word Count: 3,461

Summary: The red string of fate connects the pinky of one soulmate to the pinky of the other. Not everyone can see them, but since you had this rare gift you figured it was your duty to make sure as many soulmates found each other. At the very least, you could make sure your friends found their special person. What happens when your best friend’s soulmate isn’t her soulmate though?

The A/C in your apartment wasn’t working, but this was hardly a new occurrence. The problem was with your thermostat, but that was the extent of your knowledge. A handful of times the landlord had come out to fix it, mostly because he was too cheap to hire someone with actual knowledge, and it’d work for a little while before dying on your again. Like always you had called him to come fix it again, and like always he told you that he’d be there when he got there.

So, you settled on your own little version of being an A/C repairman. Texting all your friends, complaining to them, and hitting the thermostat with the heel of your hand over and over and over again.

“Fuck. This. Stupid. Thing.” You mumbled with each slam of your hand. Sweat beaded on the back of your neck and nearly every other crevice. The windows were open, but without a decent breeze it didn’t do much. You were sticky and gross and hot and angry.

The sound of knocking at the door interrupted the sound of you punching a thermostat. You breathed a breath of relief, never so happy to hear from your mildly sexist landlord, and rushed over to swing the door open. Instead of seeing Joe, you came face to face with Sam Wilson. Your jaw fell loose in surprise as your eyes darted to the string between the two of you.

“Hey there.” Sam greeted and held a bag of tools up, “I hear you’re having a rough go of it.” You just stared at him dumbly. He nodded once, “Sharon told me you could use a little help. Can I come in?”

You blinked in surprise and stepped back so he could step in. He let out a low whistle as the wall of heat him. Apparently, Sharon had taken your complaining and done something about it. This was not the solution you wanted though.

Your best friend and Sam had been dating for three months so far. Their relationship was a lot like a metronome. It’d jump from yelling and fighting each other outside of the bar your group wanted to visit then jump to them making out in the corner of the said bar at a booth. It was the happiest Sharon had been with a guy though.

“How are you?” Sam asked cordially. “Other than hot.” You stared at him again, and he awkwardly gave you a small smile and motioned to you with his screwdriver. “You’re sweating.”

“Yeah, I am.” You mumbled, then crossed your arms with furrowed eyebrows, “Why are you here??”

Sam pointed to your thermostat, “To fix this.”

You nodded once and forced your gaze to the floor. This was all Sharon’s doing. She knew you were distant from Sam, that you actively avoided him, but the poor idiot didn’t know the whole reason you were doing that was for her sake. The less you knew about the man in front of you the better.

“It’s a nice place you got here.” Sam commented, making you look up at him, “Good location. Pretty view. Nice furniture.” It was so awkward as he continued to list things he liked that you couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Sam grinned, “Hey, I knew I could get you to laugh. I’m a funny guy.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s what everyone tells me.” Sam shrugged with a casual smile, “Except one buddy of mine, but he’s a piece of shit and doesn’t know nothing.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Your buddy is a piece of shit?”

“Oh yeah.” Sam took the plastic cover off the thermostat. “Absolute worst. Can’t live without him though.” He glanced over his shoulder at you, “Don’t tell him I told you that.”

You smirked, “Don’t tell your piece of shit buddy that you actually love him? I’ll try to keep that in mind.” The back and forth had snuck up on you so easily. You stiffened and shook your head, “Seriously though, you don’t need to do this. My landlord is on his way.”

“Come on, girl.” Sam continued to work, “I’m already here.”

“Sam, I don’t need you here. Just—”

Sam turned and set his screwdriver down with a slight frown, “Did I do something wrong? Insult you in some way?” You glanced away, but he continued. “If I did then I’m sorry. I mean that. I just…wanna be your friend.”

“Because Sharon wants you to?”

“Because I want to.” Sam replied without missing a beat. “You seem like a really cool person and I know I’m a really cool person—” Despite your best efforts, you cracked a smile. “I just think we’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other and I wanna get to know you. Maybe you wanna know a little bit more about me?”

No. Yes.

Knowing more about him was a very, very, bad, terrible, no good idea. That was literally common sense. At the same time though… God, you wanted to know. You had lived your entire life watching the red strings tangle through this world, and you always wondered what it felt like personally. Well, it was agonizing. With Sam in the same space as you, it was like the string was constantly tugging on your pinky, trying to pull you closer to the person it was connected with. The urge to put your hand in his and make the length of the string turn to nothing was a physically tangible feeling in your chest.

“So,” Sam drew the word out. He picked up the tool again and pointed it toward you, “I fix your A/C and we agree to call a truce?”

“Only if you can actually get that damn thing fixed.” You replied.

“Oh, I can get this thing fixed.” Sam smirked.

This wouldn’t end well.

3 MONTHS LATER

The room was filled with a general buzz of excitement and laughter. The way a bar should feel at this time of evening. Although, this was a much nicer bar than your usual watering hole. If Valkyrie knew you were here drinking a $20 cocktail, she’d beat you to death with her bare hands. Your eyes lifted from the oddly colored drink to land on Sharon who was leaning into Sam as he whispered something to her. Your red string stretched across the room and other bar goers walked through the metaphorical line over and over.

“So, is that a yes?”

Your eyes snapped back to the man standing at the bar beside you. It was Sam’s friend. The piece of shit buddy that he loved. A guy named Bucky which definitely wasn’t a real name, but he had explained it was a nickname from his middle name that you couldn’t remember. He was a good-looking guy, no doubt. His dark hair cut short, stormy eyes that could hypnotize literally anyone, and damn if he didn’t make a black leather jacket look good. He was the kind of guy that 7 months ago you would’ve been all over.

Now though? It was like you only had eyes for one thing.

One person.

“Yes.” You answered quickly. Mildly embarrassed that you had no idea what he had asked. “Uh huh, definitely.”

Bucky chuckled, then leaned forward, “I asked if you wanna get outta here and have sex with me.”

You had been drinking when he spoke and immediately sucked the ridiculously, expensive liquid right into your lungs. The back of your neck felt warm in embarrassment as you tried to hack all the alcohol out of your system so you could breathe again. Bucky just stared in amusement.

When you finally cleared your throat you spoke, “No, you didn’t.”

“I actually did.” Bucky replied. “I knew you weren’t paying any attention to me so I figured the easiest way to get a pretty girl like you to go home with me was to catch you off guard.” You grimaced and prayed that a meteor would fall out of the sky and strike you down. Bucky added, “That part was a joke. I’m not trying to get you to come home with me. I feel like I should clarify that since you haven’t heard a single thing out of my mouth and because of that you might think I’m serious…”

You groaned, “Can you just kill me? Put me out of my misery?”

“Nah.” Bucky replied. He leaned forward so he was closer and didn’t have to talk so loudly for me to hear him, “How long have you been in love with my friend?”

Your eyes widened, “Your—what? You mean your friend that is currently dating my best friend??” Bucky nodded once. You forced yourself to scoff. “You’re…dumb.”

Bucky laughed, “Yeah, okay. You’ve only been staring at him the entire night. Pining over him.”

“I am not pining.” You argued, but Bucky shot you another look. This was obviously not a fight you were going to win. You took a large sip of your drink, “Do you believe in soulmates?”

His eyebrows raised curiously. Instead of questioning your own question though, he paused in thought then tilted his head, “Maybe. I kind of hope they don’t… otherwise I might’ve really fucked up, but…”

“Lost love?” You asked.

Bucky smirked and held his glass up, “Why do you think I was able to see it on you so easy??” The two of you clinked your glasses together, took a sip, then he cleared his throat. “Plus, you’re super obvious about it.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you for that.”

“No problem.” Bucky said. “You’re in a better position than I am.” You gave him a questioning look and he continued. “I had my chance, fucked it up, and now I’m hopping from bed to bed looking for a new soulmate. You on the other hand, haven’t even tried. You have a world of possibilities.”

You held a finger up, “First off, maybe you should stop drinking because I think you’re starting to overshare.” Bucky chuckled and took a sip of his whiskey. “Second, I have no possibilities. Sharon and Sam are dating. I’m not gonna be that bitch.”

“First off,” Bucky copied your format, “I’m trying to be a warning tale. Appreciate it a little more. Secondly, maybe there’s a reason why that bitch gets shit done and the rest of those not bitches just sit there sad and alone.”

You blinked at him once, “How many whiskeys have you had?”

“This is number 6.” He replied while bringing the glass to his lips again. Bucky glanced over his shoulder at the couple, but you kept your gaze on the bartender. When she finally noticed you, you held your hand up and ordered Sharon and Sam’s drinks. The whole reason the two of you were up here in the first place. Dinner had been a drag, but the good thing about an after-dinner drink was the drink part. “Let’s go home.”

You gave him a skeptical look, “We’re on a date.”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of a shitty date. You know it.” Bucky replied. He glanced over his shoulder then caught you off guard by leaned into your space again. He set his mouth by your ear before speaking, “Do you trust me?”

You trusted him enough to know you weren’t in any kind of danger, even with him drunk, but you chose the funnier reply, “No. Not at all.”

“Perfect.” Bucky replied just as the drinks arrived. He pointed to yours, “Finish that. Now. I can’t be your friend if you waste alcohol.”

Bucky downed the rest of his whiskey, made a quick grimace, then grabbed your friends’ drinks and turned to walk away. You shrugged and threw back the rest of your cocktail. It really hadn’t been worth the money. When you turned around to look over at them you spotted Bucky giving the two of them a charming smile. Sharon laughed, but Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in his signature concerned look. Your soulmate asked something, but Bucky just waved it off and gave them a quick goodbye.

He readjusted his jacket then walked back over to you. Without hesitation, he threw his arm over your shoulders and you involuntarily wrapped your arm around his torso in response. He was stumbling just a bit and you had a feeling he’d careen to the floor if you didn’t keep a hand on him. Bucky grinned, “Let’s go, doll.”

Despite the weird turn this had taken, you were thankful for it. Watching Sam and Sharon flirt for another second would make you wanna drown yourself in your next drink. You used your free hand to tap his chest, “You know I’m not going back to your place, right?”

“What kind of man do you take me for?” Bucky scoffed.

You laughed and the two of you stumbled out of the bar. It took you only forty five minutes to get an uber, get it to take Bucky home, make sure he got to bed and didn’t pass out in his kitchen or something, then get back in the uber and make it back to your place. It took you even less time to strip out of the date clothes you had on and replace it with the most comfortable pajamas you had.

The rest of the night was going to be a face mask, bottles of wine, and Netflix kind of night. Talk about a successful date. Your phone buzzed. It was a text from Bucky asking if you made it home okay, and you were surprised he hadn’t fallen asleep yet. You texted him a quick affirmative and seconds later there was a knock on your door. Your eyes darted from your front door to your phone.

“I swear to God…” You mumbled and stood up. There was no way Bucky had been functional enough to get an uber himself and come here, right? It would be a waste of the money you spent to take him to his place to begin with and you would be getting that $10 back. You pulled the door open and gasped in surprise as Sam stormed into your apartment still wearing the gray blazer over the dark shirt he had worn on his date. “Sam…?”

Sam looked down your hallway, “Bucky?! Get your dumb ass out here or I swear—”

“Sam?”

“Bucky!”

“Sam!” You grabbed his arm and made him look at you. You shook your head, “Bucky is not here. I helped him get home and then I came home. Very much alone. Please stop yelling down my empty hallway to my empty bedroom.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. He stiffened and pointed down the still empty hallway, “Listen, Bucky is a fantastic guy but he’s in a weird place right now and I don’t want him to use you. I know he wouldn’t mean to be using you, but like I said he’s in a weird place—”

“Sam.” You cut him off. “What the hell are you talking about? You set up the double date in the first place.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Sharon set that date up, okay? She asked me to bring a friend and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna bring Steve ‘prince charming’ Rogers.”

“That… I am not following this at all.” You rubbed your forehead in confusion, “Also, I—I am not sleeping with Bucky, let me put that out there, but why would you care? Why are you here?” It suddenly dawned on you that it was early, and the date shouldn’t be over for him like it was you. “Where is Sharon??”

Sam crossed his arms, eyes darting to his feet briefly before looking back up to meet yours, “I left her at the bar. We had a fight. She wasn’t happy, but… she hasn’t been happy in a while.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The past month and a half we’ve been trying to fix us. Fix what we had, but maybe…maybe we can’t fix it because there’s nothing left there to fix.” Sam said.

You swallowed a lump that had formed in your throat, “Sam…”

“And maybe there’s nothing to fix because I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.” Sam blurted and the air between you seem suffocating. He pressed his lips together, shaking his head, “I know that’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t be having those kind of thoughts about my girlfriend’s best friend but… I can’t stop. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

God, how many times had you dreamed about hearing those words? A part of you wondered is this was a dream. Had you gone home from the bar, chugged an excess of wine, and then passed out? That was the only explanation, but Sam took a step toward you. His hands reached out to take yours and you were convinced that this was real.

“Sharon…” You said softly. A reminder to yourself.

Sam nodded once, “Yeah, she didn’t like any of the things I just said to you.”

You let go of his hands and stumbled back in shock, “You told her!?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Sam replied. “I had been thinking of telling her for a while, but I kept putting it off, and then watching you go home with Bucky?” He let out a quiet scoff. “I know this could be ruining everything, but I can’t sit back anymore. I need to know…”

You wrapped your arms around yourself. He didn’t say it out loud, but you knew what the question was. Unable to lie, you nodded and quietly answered, “Yeah, Sam. Yeah. I—I’m crazy about you.” Sam’s lips curled up into a bright smile that made your heart flutter in your chest. You took a hesitant step back, “But, Sam… Sharon is…”

“She gets it.” He replied. You raised an eyebrow and he chuckled, “I mean, obviously you need to talk with her on your own, she wasn’t happy, but she…she understood.”

“Seriously??”

“I swear it.” Sam held his hands up. “Like I said, we’ve been just… going through the motions the last month and a half.” He moved to hold one of his hands out to you. You hesitantly set your hand in his, lacing the fingers together, and loving how right it felt. “So…yeah?”

You laughed, “Yeah.”

“ Yeah, ‘I can take you out on a date sometime’ or yeah ‘get the hell out of my apartment, Wilson’?” He asked.

You beamed at him with a nod, “Yeah, you can take me out on a date sometime, Wilson.”

Sam grinned and that was the only convincing you needed anymore. You trusted him when he said Sharon had been okay with this. You planned on calling her first thing in the morning and taking her out to brunch to talk, but Sam knew her well enough to be able to say if she was truly good or not. Just like you didn’t want to hurt her, you knew he didn’t want to either. Sam closed the space, keeping one hand in yours and using the other to trace your other arm, “I know you probably wanna take this slow and I just want you to know that I’m okay with whatever—”

“I am actually completely okay with jumping your bones right now.” You smirked.

“You—You—” Sam cleared his throat with wide eyes, “What?”

You let go of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck. Sam immediately put his hands on your waist and lower his face to yours. You never let yourself dream about what it would feel like to kiss your soulmate, it would be too painful to even think about, but even if you had daydream about this? It would’ve paled in comparison. Sam nipped at your lower lip. You opened your mouth further, deepening the kiss, and the two of you stumbled back until Sam fell onto the couch with you straddling his lap.

You pulled away for a second, breathless, and grinned, “Oh, I am so finding Bucky’s soulmate for him.”

Sam smirked, “Girl, are you thinking about Bucky damn Barnes during our first kiss?? Because I swear to God—”

“Well, let’s go for our second kiss.” You replied, leaning into him again, “I’ll try to think of Bucky a little less.”

Sam let out a bark of laughter then shifted so you were pressed into the couch cushions with his weight holding you down. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and you suddenly understood why all those perfect, fated couples were so intertwined. Nothing felt better than being tangled in the arms of the person sharing the same red string of fate with you.

[previous chapter]

#marvel #sam wilson #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x reader #soulmate au #modern au #bucky barnes

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dungeonmalcontent · 4 months ago

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I need y'all to learn about this very silly combat encounter I just ran through as a player. We're doing the Candlekeep modular adventures as sort of episodic one shots, and it's been loads of fun so far. Our small party of two (now three) have become menaces at Candlekeep.

Anyway. I'm playing an eldritch knight fighter, with the RP twist being that he is keeping his magical talents under wraps so he cheat in martial tournaments. But the built itself is something I call the crit fishing built. Human variant, lucky, savage attacker, piercer, crossbow expert, duelist (I know there is a better combo for this). The goal is to offhand net throw an opponent to get hitting at advantage, and then lay into them and reroll as much as possible to get a crit, and then with the crit damage keep rerolling damage die to max the crit potential. So in the end you are rolling close to 32 damage + mods on a regular basis. We are level 13 (after this session) so I'm hitting three times and have access to action surge when needed.

Anyway.

We did the quest hook where the monk steals the pages from the book and we have to go get them back. So we infiltrate this woodland compound of immortal monks. And we skirt around the whole compound, vetting buildings and finding a prisoner. We go back to the back of the main temple building and our bard has stone shape on a magic item and can just let it off a bunch to tunnel us in behind the temple alter. But we finally make just enough noise that we alert the master of the temple and his inner circle of acolytes.

We roll crap initiative. They roll decent. And it's stupid because I have the alert feat, but I'm still going after all of them.

The master rushes me, I get stunned and knocked prone through my cloak of displacement and kicked by all the monks. I'm down to half hp (about 66) in one round. Fighting lots of monks is brutal.

But the bard goes after my stunned turn. Mass suggestion. All the acolytes fail. They leave the temple so the master can handle things.

The master swings again at me but I pop shield as a reaction and he misses another stunner by one. (I should have avoided the stun in the first place with lucky and indomitable, but I'm still not used to my fighter). My fighter takes no damage. The freed prisoner looses a held action ranged attack which the master catches as a reaction. My guy gets to stand up. And the process commences.

Bonus action, net. He fails the save. Action, blindness/deafness, he fails and triggers the legendary resistance to succeed. The bard reactions an echo of the spell (they're using my soul song archetype, so they get to redo actions other players take) and it fails, but it's sort of the nail in the coffin anyway. Action surge. Rapier. Crit. ~38 damage. Second hit, another 12-ish damage. Third hit, another 12 ish damage.

Prisoners turn. This is a dmnpc rogue ranger multi class with three levels of exhaustion (to make it fair). It lands a critical sneak attack. Another 50-ish damage.

Bard's turn. Wall of stone. Puts the master in a box.

At this point the master has about 5 hit points. The bard declares the box's ac and approx hit points. The master is still in the net in the box. Bard also declares what their next turn will be: use stone shape to create a little hole in the box for me to stick my rapier in and repeatedly stab the master and/or use phantasmal killer to finish him off. Given the hit points, dm lets both happen for flavor.

We are left with a stone box full of an old dead guy. The box has a hole in it.

We use mold earth to leave a message on the box right next to the hole: "pleasure hole" (or something to that effect).

We get the pages, I summon the net back, snag the master's very rare staff, a potion, and book it.

This is the most I think I have ever clowned on a boss monster. I love not only this character build, but this party build.

#d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #homebrew #5e #ttrpg #fantasy #story from the tabletop

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munsonsreputation · 2 years ago

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y’all are never gonna hear me shut the fuck up about this…but this is screaming 1989 is it NOT?!

I might be delusional but I am delusional for a REASON! this is clearly 1989 coded in some odd yet very obvious way…just bear with me here

1989 is the next re-record that might come before this year ends or possible early next year! in the karma music video there are multiple Easter eggs that hint to 1989tv but specifically the last scene….

she brings coffee to her supposed “partner” and the coffee has a design in which the clock strikes 12.

Since the announcement of Midnights, the clock has been a symbol throughout Taylor’s career — the variants of Midnights, the different editions (3am, till dawn, ect.), even the opening visual to the eras tour.

could this possibly be another tease for the clock to be used to announce 1989tv and the possible music video we could be getting??!

in the song “you are in love” she sings “coffee at midnight” and this is obviously the scene at the end of the karma music video!

while the song is loosely based off Jack Antonoff and his then partner Lena Dunham — the song is basically about two people who fall in love and it gushes about the simple and mundane life between the lovers while also acknowledging the moment they fall in love.

now I’m not saying Joe and Taylor are together or dating, but I am saying there is a possibility he could be staring in the “You Are In Love” (Taylor’s Version) Music Video!

1989 is an iconic era in itself and we were gifted with some of the most amazing, memorable, dramatic, and fun music videos (bad blood, ootw, wildest dreams, style, shake it off, blank space, and new romantics)

but what makes “You Are In Love” different is the domesticity of love and how it seems to not be so chaotic. in the song she expresses literally the different moments in which she and her partner fall in love through just living in each others lives in day to day scenarios.

EXAMPLES:

One look, dark room. Meant just for you. Time moved too fast. You play it back

Small talk, he drives. Coffee at midnight

Morning, his place. Burnt toast, Sunday. You keep his shirt. He keeps his word

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

in the final scene of the karma music video we see that everything fades into the cup of coffee and ends up being served to her lover. this is symbolism in which I think means that her past with other partners seems to just fade away now that’s she’s with him because… SHES IN LOVE! HES IN LOVE! THEY ARE IN LOVE!

to receive a music video for this song specifically would mean so much to the 1989 era considering the fact that during this time Taylor was under scrutiny for her love life. we saw that depicted in blank space, a satire song she wrote based off what tabloids thought of her and her love life.

“You Are In Love” clearly talks about the softness in which her and her partner have in private. That while they may fight and argue, they talk it out nonetheless and make it work for them.

“He keeps his word

And for once, you let go

Of your fears and your ghosts

One step, not much

But it said enough

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk”

the whole point of “you are in love” is to express the highs and lows of a relationship outside of the opinions of everyone else, specifically the media.

“You can hear it in the silence

You can feel it on the way home

You can see it with the lights out”

in the lines above, it clearly has parallels to other Taylor songs in which she talks about fame and how it constantly follows her wherever she goes — an issue she has wanted to avoid when it comes to her love life. but in these lines it talks about when her and her partner are alone — just them by themselves together. they are in love and they can feel it even when no one is watching.

and where is no one watching?

in this scene where she brings him the coffee!!!! this is the dark room meant just for them! their shoulder brush as she sits down beside him! this is either his place or hers — THEIRS!

This was just a GLIMPSE of domesticity when it come to romantic love — but I’m assuming when we ✨hopefully ✨ get the mv we will see more of it! see the two of them just spending time together in a home, like in Lover mv!!!!

Now you’re probably thinking where does Joe Keery fit in all of this?! I HAVE ADHD AND I GOT OFF TOPIC IM SORRY!

we all know Taylor worked with Sadie for the atw 10 min version short film! in her actors on actors interview she discusses writing past Taylor in the film with Sadie in mind Bcs she saw her in stranger things and realized she wasn’t a romantic lead and would be perfect for the role! (Time stamp: 6:12)

knowing this information and that Taylor has definitely watching stranger things, could she possible be writing the “You Are In Love” music video with Joe Keery in mind?

Joe Keery hasn’t stared as a romantic lead in any movies / tv shows. in stranger things he only played Nancy’s love interest for 1 season before becoming the beloved babysitter we all know today. In Free Guy, while his character does crush on Jodie Comer, he isn’t necessarily the “romantic lead,” that part belongs to Ryan Reynolds. Then in Spree he plays a fucking murderer so yeah….

I’m thinking that Taylor really loved Joe’s performance in ST and possibly saw his other projects and wanted to see him in a larger role (romance wise). I personally think he would be perfect as a character in the “you are in love” music video or possibly short film!

Steve Harrington had a redemption arc but I don’t think we’ll be seeing him GRT back together w/ nance in s5 + the ending of Free Guy is left open so we really don’t know if his character and Jodie Comer’s stay together.

I know I’m probably sounding crazy or delusional but this is just a loosely based theory on what I see and know from the pics and Easter eggs! Taylor street style as of late has been giving 1989 and we all know how she also drop hints with clothing and what not so this is just a fun little thing I put together

this is just a theory so please don’t come at my neck….LOL! I know I sound delulu, but this is just all in fun and good nature as a fan of Taylor and Joe!

Let me know your thoughts and possible other Taylor and Joe collab theories! 🙈🫶🏽✨

#joe keery #steve harrington #taylor swift #taylor swift x stranger things #Taylor and Joe K collab?#I’m DELULU #please be nice 😭#I’m just a Fangirl with theories here ok!#I love the both of them!#if my two worlds collide I swear

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sushisocks · 11 months ago

Text

Chapter 43 - The Thrill of Pushing Hope

Sean grits his teeth and shakes his arm carefully to let the alcohol run off properly, breathing through the sting where it’s been poured over his stitched-up wound.

They’ve been able to scrounge up enough of the stuff that both Sean and Javier should be able to avoid infection, if luck is on their side. Which means Sean is being extra careful in what ways he can, because luck has really not been on their side lately.

Dutch and Bill have gone ahead with Javier, helping him to the boat while Micah’s off in search of the captain. Sean has been left with cleanup duty, gathering together what meager possessions they’ve accumulated in the past few days here. It’s not a whole lot; some food, basic medical supplies, a few extra boxes of bullets. All easily packed into a makeshift bag to be slung over Sean’s shoulder, once he’s finished with his arm.

They don’t have a whole lot of bandages to spare, so Sean’s washed and boiled the scarf Baptiste gave him. It’s had most of the day to hang in the heat, so it’s as dry as it’s gonna get. He wraps his arm gently, but firmly, tucking the loose end in by his elbow. It hurts. He manages.

The process is calming despite the pain, in an odd sense. The artificial peace of it. Standing there, alone in an abandoned makeshift-camp with the promise of passage off this island finally within reach, Sean breathes in, and lets the turmoil of feelings bloom in his chest for a second.

The kernel of a couple days ago lashes out with oppressive force.

Anger, fear, and grief all wash into him like a great wave threatening to drown all it touches. It leaves him momentarily breathless before he quickly sucks in more air. Fighting to pull it all back again.

Some of it goes easily; the grief he’s well-acquainted with at this point. An overarching note that has followed him since he was young, felt thoroughly and freely in pockets of quiet safety and peace. There’s a time and place for it, and it isn’t now. So it washes through him and then recedes, like a wave is supposed to do, and Sean is lucky enough to find that for now, it doesn’t linger.

The fear is similar, familiar to Sean from the life he’s lived. Like a steady thrum at the base of his spine. Part of the thrill of it all, really, as long as it’s not overwhelming – and even then, Sean’s gotten used to fighting through it. Can’t survive if you don’t. Freezing up from fear in battle is a surefire way of getting killed. So it stays, because it can and it will, clinging onto him like a thin layer of oil.

It’s the anger which leaves Sean bewildered. He has felt anger before, of course, on behalf of those he loves, protective and fierce and indignant when they’ve been done wrong, angry on behalf of his people at the hands of the English, angry on behalf of his pa murdered in his sleep, angry on behalf of his found family denied freedom and agency. Now though, the anger is just… Raging. An inferno ready to swallow up everything and let Sean go down in a blaze if he allows it. Never has he had it be this all-consuming before, and never has he had to fight to simmer it down quite this much.

Like the whole world has done him wrong. Personally.

Sean has never been one to linger too long on the negative, focusing on the positives and fun of life instead. Never above the feelings that come with the ups and downs of existence, but also never getting stuck on them. But now it’s like the negative has finally caught up to him after dogging at his heels for weeks, and all it wants is to swallow him up and keep him there.

And he won’t let himself leave this camp if that’s the case.

He’s seen what it does to people, and it’s really no way to live.

He breathes in. Breathes out. Thinks of getting off this island. Thinks of everyone back home. Thinks of Lenny. The fire recedes. Embers remain, but it’s manageable. An empty calm settles back over him, along with the sparks of joy and hope he usually holds near his heart.

It’s been a rough month, is all. A long month. It’ll be fine once they get back.

He’s so fucking excited to see Lenny and the rest again.

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

“Well, reverend, if I’d known speakin’ to a nun was all you needed, I woulda left you at the steeple of a church the day Dutch brought you to us,” Susan hums with humor in her voice, hands on her hips as she takes in Orville’s stature.

He certainly seems sober, and in better condition than he was when he left camp a couple days ago. She’d just about gotten a mind to ask Charles or Sadie to go seek him out when he turned back up this afternoon, with a much livelier look to him than she’s seen in a while now.

“So, what exactly, are you askin’ me to do, here?”

“Take it,” Orville says, holding out the rectangular box for her to grasp, painted to look like a bible. “It has all of it, I made sure. Hide it, throw it out, I don’t care and I don’t want to know. I trust in my renewed faith, but I’d like to avoid temptation where I can help it. Please…"

“Alright, alright,” she sighs, taking the proffered box and looking it over. “I ain’t givin’ it back if you change your mind.”

“That’s my hope, Miss Grimshaw,” he says with a grave expression, offering the box one last look before giving her a determined nod, turning, and leaving her standing there.

“I swear,” she mumbles, shaking her head in exasperation at the box in her hands, before turning and looking over the camp, thinking of where she should stash it. They don’t have much, but she knows every possible configuration of the camp that they can come up with, based on what they do have. As well as every iteration they’ve ever had since she joined them, back when it was just two men and two boys who barely knew how to wash behind their ears.

“Don’t make it that obvious.”

“You write it then!”

Her gaze is drawn towards the log by the campfire, where Lenny and Sadie are sat hunched over the book Lenny’s been writing on-and-off in the past few days. Sadie is pushing the book back into Lenny’s lap along with a pen, which he seems to be actively fighting while spluttering.

“I didn’t mean it like that! You got nicer handwritin’ than me, if we’re doin’ this angle. My point is just that if we rewrite this part, this way…”

Sadie leans closer as Lenny pens something down, making a noise of understanding as he finishes the sentence. “I getcha. Alright, how do we do this part, then?”

“I’d have a better idea if I was sure Sean would be the one gettin’ the message, but since he doesn’t know how to read…” A mournful sigh, weary in the way one only gets at a topic where there’s little hope of making headway despite several attempts. “God, I wish he knew how to read.”

Susan huffs in amusement, easily hidden as she makes her way across camp, towards one of the wagons they’ve left just at the edge. Out of the way but ready in case there's a need for them. One contains a hidden compartment, which only she knows about now that Hosea’s gone. With some effort, one of the planks can be skeeved out with a knife, revealing just enough space in the corner for small things that need to be hidden from any prying eye. Like possible bonds still too hot to sell, or in this case, valuable drugs that should be kept out of reach from recovering addicts.

The bible-box doesn’t fit, and Susan has no qualms about tossing it out into the swamp after emptying its insides into the cubby hole. Once the wagon floor is back in place, she lets herself pause for just a moment, and breathe.

The past few months have been long and hard, but the loss of Hosea seems to weigh the heaviest amongst it all. She eyes the wooden planks beneath her, reminiscing of the impish grin the man had given her, back when she’d first discovered and shown him the convenient little hiding spot underneath them. A smile familiar to her, as natural to him as mirthful laughter and shrewd eyes.

She closes her eyes against the building pressure behind them. Crying won’t help, or make a difference at this point. She’s done enough of it. There are things that can be done that will make a difference, though. A difference for this camp, this gang, full of people whose lives need what stability she can provide. It doesn’t make up for what she’s lost, what they have all lost, but wallowing is just as likely to kill her at this point as anything else.

A deep inhale and a wet exhale later, and she’s fixing her skirts and her hair to the best of her ability, stepping down from the cover of the carriage and returning to work.

Or, she would be returning to work, were it not for the fact that the second she hits the road back towards the camp center - marked by the spaced out wooden planks - she hears the unmistakable sound of horse hooves hitting the ground at a leisurely pace behind her.

“Miss Grimshaw,” Arthur’s voice is also an unmistakable sound to her, having heard it pretty much daily for years now. She turns, and sees the man atop his Arabian, named Gooseberry if her memory serves her right. A silly but apt name, she’s thought so since she first heard it, and of course Arthur’s stuck with it.

“Mister Morgan,” she says pleasantly in spite of her slight astonishment at seeing him back so soon. Because proper manners is the very foundation of respect shown to one another, in her humble opinion. “I know I said I wanted you back by tonight, but this is quite a bit earlier than I expected, really.”

“And I told you,” Arthur answers as he pulls his horse to a stop by the nearby hitching post, swinging down from the saddle under her scrutinizing eyes. It doesn’t seem like he’s in any pain or more exhausted than she’d expect from whatever adventures he’s had since he left this morning, which is a good sign. “That I only wanted out ‘cause I had an errand that needed tendin’ to.”

He hitches the horse easily, stepping back to stick his hand in the saddlebag. Susan has her game face on when he turns back to her; arms crossed, hip cocked out, eyebrow raised, but it all falls away when she sees what he’s holding out for her.

“Arthur…”

“Reckon this should tide us over ‘til the others get back.”

The clip of bills has to be a couple hundred dollars, at least. She quickly takes a step closer, shielding the money from any possible unwelcome eyes as he easily acquiesces the clip into her hands, smirking down at her when she looks up at him with an accusatory glare.

“Did you do a job to get this, Arthur?” She hisses between clenched teeth. “Ain’t you the one who said we needed to keep eyes off us while we wait?”

“No jobs, no law, nothin’ bad, I promise. Had some goods stashed away near Valentine, jus’ had to get it to the fence,” Arthur shrugs, though Susan can see the amusement on his face clear as day.

“Valentine, huh? That’s a pretty far distance, but I guess it makes sense if you just went there ‘n’ back.”

“Well, Goose is pretty quick, so besides some O’Driscolls, there were these twins insistin’ I shoot at ‘em…”

“Arthur Morgan!” She snaps, pocketing the money and giving him a stern look which he has the audacity to just laugh at.

“Nothin’ bad, I swear! They were tryna impress a lady, so they wanted me to shoot bottles off their heads. Didn’t make a lick’a sense to me, but ain’t my business to judge.”

“Alright, well,” Susan says, rubbing at her temples in an attempt at staving off the headache she feels oncoming.

The money is a godsend, really, she can send a wagon to Saint Denis and have them stock up on medicinal supplies, as well as feed for the horses and chickens, all of which they’ve been dangerously low on the past few days. And there’ll still be more than enough to stock Pearson up with some vegetables, and replenish their ammunition – a couple times over if need be. But that doesn’t keep from the fact that half the people in this gang will be responsible for sending her into an early grave, Arthur Morgan especially.

“Go get yourself somethin’ to eat. I’ll have Kieran or Lenny look over your horse for you, ‘n’ then I’ll need to make sure you ain’t messed yourself up again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, giving that lazy two-finger salute of his as he passes her.

As Susan turns to follow, she once again stops in her tracks as the view of the misty little camp greets her.

Her gaze follows Arthur as he approaches Pearson’s table, who’s caught up in an animated conversation with Uncle, the both of them happily including Arthur when he gets close. Sadie and Lenny seem to have set aside their pen and paper in favor of distracting Kieran from his guard route, though the boy has already been thoroughly detracted enough by that dog the Marstons had the good sense to leave behind. He’s crouched down scratching behind it's ear while sputtering at Sadie’s teasing, Lenny seeming to oscillate between acting as a mediator between the two and being amused by their back-and-forth.

A shriek followed by shrill laughter drags her attention towards Mary-Beth as she bursts out from the common house, Tilly right on her heels with a menacing grin and holding one of the buckets for washing. The two were supposed to exchange the water in those, right about now, but it seems they’ve once again found something to divert one another from their task. Tilly is yelling about returning a favor, and from the half-soaked look of her dress plus the half-empty bucket in her arms, Susan has a pretty good idea of what has happened.

Good Lord, she turned her back on camp for less than a half hour.

She won't deny that there’s something heartening about it, if you ignore the imminent mess upon her hands.

Mary-Beth bounds across camp and hides behind Lenny and Kieran, the latter now standing. Sadie takes a graceful step out of reach while grinning, the dog clever enough to move with her and away from the young gang members in the process of making a ruckus.

Another spot of levity, each moment hard fought for and well-earned within this group of people.

Susan sees Tilly’s shrewd smile as she slowly nears the trio, while Lenny’s waving his hands in an attempt to stop her approach, despite the mirth clear on his face. Mary-Beth and Kieran’s frantic and pleading voices, both now clutching hands and hiding behind Lenny, are almost drowned out when Arthur’s gleeful laughter joins Sadie’s cackle.

And Susan feels this faint sense of closure, deep within her chest.

Whatever happens, she’ll be glad to have done what she can for these people. Besides, he might be gone, but there’s no doubt to her that Hosea will live on in spirit for a long while yet, in the people surviving him. Gone, but not forgotten, as the saying goes, perhaps too fitting for a man who has impacted this many lives. She lets out a long breath as the chatter and clamoring reaches a crescendo – Tilly dangerously near Lenny with the bucket of water raised high in the air – before putting her game-face on.

“Alright, that’s enough! Girls, get cleaned up and then back to work, those buckets have a purpose! Arthur, I told you to get something to eat, didn't I? And mister Duffy, aren’t you s’posed to be on watch?”

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

“Back to the ship, come on!”

Sean follows as they start running, shifting the rifle into his hands and checking that it’s fully loaded.

“What happened to Fussar?” Dutch asks, the captain in tow as they start the path down the hill. “He escaped?”

A shot rings from the distance. A bullet whirring by somewhere to Sean’s left. He has his gun up and ready with the slowing of his pace, eyes scanning the moonlit distance for movement.

“I didn’t see him!” Hercule responds.

“Damn it!”

His gaze catches on a shadow moving in from the far away woods, the source of the initial shots. Sean barely thinks as the things Arthur coached him on so long ago has become muscle-memory. All the air is filtering out of his lungs. His hands steady and firm on the gun. The trigger squeezed, and the man is down in less than a second.

He doesn’t have time to breathe in again. There’s more movement in the silvery dark.

“They have sent reinforcements!”

Hercule really has a penchant for stating the obvious, some distant part of Sean’s mind still capable of thought notes as he shifts his aim. A man runs across the road, straight through his line of sight. It steers his focus away and the first shot goes wide. Sean curses silently as he makes up for it. The second bullet gets his initial target dead on. Then he realizes the running man isn't behind cover yet. Hands steady as he follows with his sight, then a squeeze of the trigger, and the stranger isn’t running any longer. Sean doesn’t wait to see him fall, already swiveling around, sure he saw another. The last man standing has his gun trained directly at him, since Sean – being an idiot – hasn’t thought to run for cover until right this moment.

A sharp involuntary inhale, then sound of a bullet, and the stranger is dead on the ground. Sean turns slightly and gives Micah a quiet nod in thanks as the man lowers his guns. It makes him a little queasy, his lungs filling with air again, almost dying once again due to his own inattention, being saved by Micah of all people. The moment doesn’t last though, Hercule’s voice calling out.

“Let’s go!”

Nobody argues as they set off again, down around the turn of the road, Sean quickly reloading while he has the chance.

“Another one, shoot him!”

Sean doesn’t even realize he’s moved to the front of the group before another one of the men in blue is stepping out onto the road, as surprised at seeing him stand alone in the middle of it as Sean is at being there. Still, the twitch of his gun and two squeezes of the trigger sends the body tumbling into the ground, Sean left watching it as he waits for his compatriots to catch up.

Something bubbles up his chest then, too quick to stop before it escapes Sean’s mouth in the form of a laugh. Elation at the realization that if this is all that stands between them and the boat – untrained henchmen who barely know how to handle their weapons – then there’s no way they’re not getting off this island. Hell, Sean could probably do it mostly alone, at this rate. Hope and joy ignites with a roar in his chest, built on embers which strengthen and embolden them with Sean’s choice of optimism in face of all the recent hardship.

“You boys really lettin’ me go at it alone, here,” Sean says, falling back into his cocksure ways as if he never left them, not particularly caring how wild his grin might be as he looks back at Micah and Dutch. “Arthur would be disappointed, ya’know.”

“Shut up, MacGuire,” Micah grumbles as Dutch gives him an equally quizzical and analytical look – which, frankly, Sean has no care to think any deeper of right now.

“Spoken like a man with the lowest kill-count tonight,” Sean sings, relishing the sound of cocking the bolt action as he turns his back on Dutch’s low chuckle. He can practically feel Micah’s glare burning into his neck, but he really doesn’t care all that much, too high on adrenaline to mind anything but the need to move.

“Keep going,” Dutch says, voice once again firm as they all pick up the speed again. “Get to that boat!”

They’re not far from the ruins when Hercule shouts out again, turning Sean’s attention left and up the rocky hill. He’ll give the Frenchman that; he’s got keen eyes, even if Sean and Micah are the ones downing them, one pull of the trigger at a time. Another man appears in the arch of the ruined wall ahead of them, and Sean kills him as well while his gun is up and at it.

“Come on, let’s finish these connards!”

Sean’s got no idea what that word means, but he gets the gist well enough, and he’s not above admitting that he’s having a bit of fun at this point. His heart is thumping in his chest as he slides in next to the wall for a brief moment, switching his rifle for his revolver just for kicks while bullets whir through the opening and past him. Hercule settles in at the other side of the arch, looking over at him with wide eyes, and Sean can’t help the smile on his lips. He probably looks fucking crazy, he realizes as much, but everything on this fucking island has been either crazy or so horribly dour, Sean can’t help the exhilaration he feels now at being so close to getting off it, to getting home. So what if he’s having a little fun with it?

He steps out from cover once there’s a lull in the gunfire, and it’s honestly a little too easy to get the first two men in his sights, the last on the left ducking into cover just as Sean pulls the trigger.

Well, Sean being Sean, shrugs and takes off, sprinting the short distance and rounding the corner just as the man pops back up, his sudden proximity surprising the other enough for Sean to tackle him into the ground and set the mouth of his gun against the stranger’s temple. He’s carefully keeping his eyes just above the man’s head as he pulls the trigger, quick to stand back up as the body grows limp underneath him, not sparing it another glance.

“Keep going!” Sounds from behind him. Fucking Hercule, Sean thinks, as he aims his gun at another guard who’s snuck closer and fires once – misses – fires twice – hits.

The man goes down with a grunt, still crawling, but another gunshot from Sean leaves the stranger dead, and Sean in dire need of reloading. He crouches by the wall to fill up the chamber of his gun, looking back briefly to see that Hercule is the only one really keeping up with him, which has him barely able to keep from rolling his eyes.

“Guess someone’s gotta protect the capt’n,” he mutters to himself with faint amusement before emptying his lungs.

He steps back out from cover, and raises his gun. A guard comes out from cover and promptly has a bullet lodged in his head. Two more men appear. One from the ruins ahead, and the other from Sean’s left. Sean takes care of the one in the back first, straight to the head. Then turns his aim and sends another bullet into the left-hand man. He doesn’t look to see if he falls, but hears the thud nonetheless. One more appears on top of the run-down house ahead of him. Sean has to pull the trigger twice before the man is down.

“Bloody ants,” he lets out after a long inhale, sliding into cover and reloading once more as Hercule catches up to him.

“Here,” Hercule says, motioning with his gun towards the towering structure in the distance. “Fussar is up there I think.”

Sean peeks out around the corner, seeing the cannon or gun or something at the top of the tall building, and leans back, looking over at Hercule to make sure he’s not pulling his leg. “In the tower?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s him.”

“Aw, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Sean breathes in a half-chuckle, resting his head against the cool wall behind him for a second. God, if his life isn’t absurd. Then the ground shakes with an explosion down the way, and Sean’s heartbeat picks up once again. “Alright, let’s go!”

“He’s shooting, we have to take him down!” Hercule says as the dust settles and another guard appears, only to be shot down. “Sean, there’s another cannon up ahead on our left. Can you get to that?”

“Sure,” Sean laughs as he pushes forward, running down the path through the ruins. “Didn’t ya know? Killin’ people with cannons is a newfound skill’a mine!”

He’s sprinting the distance and scampering around the corner of the crumbling walls as another explosion sends dirt and stone flying behind him, the idle cannon standing ready like a gift from Heaven itself. Sean’s quick to its side, repositioning and aiming it within seconds before firing, and oh what a satisfying spectacle that turns out to be.

The top of the tower lights up in a burst of red, orange, and black, the roof blown clean off. Rubble and stone falls, the rumble of it not nearly as loud as the initial explosion, but satisfying all the same as what’s left of the building stands starkly against the brightening morning sky. Sean grins, knowing there’s no way Fussar survived all that.

He’s laughing as he regroups with the others at the docks.

“Did you guys see that?” Sean asks with a wide grin, before imitating the explosion with his hands, fingers spread wide. “Boom! Would’a bloody liked t’see him come back from that one.”

There’s a variety of looks served his way, but Sean’s too satisfied to care and too excited at the prospect of leaving to take it to heart.

“Captain,” Dutch says, turning from vaguely amused to serious as he shifts his gaze onto the bruised man. “Can you handle the ship?”

“I’ll be fine,” the man says, waving off any concerns before turning towards the docked boat. “Come on, we’ll get going with the tide, before I get any more surprise interviews with local officials.”

Sean follows the captain and Micah onto the boat where Bill and Javier have been waiting, turning and watching Dutch as he says his goodbyes to Hercule, before giving the man a wave as Dutch finally boards. Once they’re all on the ship, Sean kicks the gangway onto land as Dutch settles at the front of the boat, turning to look at him.

“We survived.”

“That we did,” Sean breathes, looking back at the jungle which had almost consumed him in the three days they spent here. It’s close to pretty, now that it’s not trying to kill him anymore.

“Sean, you did well back there,” Dutch says, drawing his attention. Sean’s gaze is pulled from the island scenery to his leader, who’s sitting by the cargo and watching him. “I’d heard through the grapevine that your aim improved, but I didn't realize you’d become that good a shot.”

“Yeah, well,” Sean smirks, wiping a thumb under his nose to stall the grin threatening to form. “Got some pointers from Arthur a while back, had time t’practice, so I started doin’ better for myself.”

“Oh, I can tell, son, I can tell,” he says, and Sean’s smile sours a bit, though he fights against it. Dutch doesn’t seem to notice at all, too busy pulling out a cigar to light. Sean has no clue where he got it from. “Maybe this is what it took for you to really come into your element. Keep at it and you’ll be an equal to Micah and Arthur in no time.”

“Micah and Arthur?”

“Of course, kid. They’re our best, these days,” Dutch says around a puff of smoke just as the boat starts moving, the engines kicking into gear. Sean has to catch himself on the railing to keep steady, feeling the tell-tale signs of adrenaline leaving his body paired with the lack of food and sleep catching up to him. He really doesn’t want to talk about this right now.

“... Right.”

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

There’s a large fallen tree, rotted down into a long hollow log, just outside of camp, closer to the lake.

It’s shielded enough from view that there’s a sense of privacy when Charles needs it, and close enough that when Charles is needed, he’s only a shout away. When he first found it, he cut away some of the undergrowth growing up along the sides of the log, so he could face either way, but he’s found he often prefers watching the lake over watching a camp emptier than it should be.

Charles usually spends his time out here deep in thought, mostly because there’s a lot occupying his mind.

In this sense, his appreciation for Sadie has increased tenfold the past couple weeks.

Where everyone – Charles included – floundered in the aftermath of the bank job, Sadie seemed to have several courses of action lined up and ready for input before they were sprung to life. It’s worked out pretty well for them, and while the first week contained a lot of stress and back-and-forth, the second has been relatively peaceful, everyone settling into a routine of sorts.

He could never have held the gang together on his own, that much he knows. Charles has never been one for leading, or rallying people around him, quite the opposite actually, but he has grown fond of the people here, never having had anything like the gang previously in his life. There’s little he wouldn’t do for them, to the extent of his ability, but after spending most of his years in his own company, human interaction is really not his best skill. So, he’s grateful to Sadie, for her willingness to speak up and take the reins when nobody else could, and for how easy it’s turned out to be to work with her and Arthur in the effort of keeping them all going.

But it means they’ve barely had a moment to speak freely, in private. Which Charles has a hunch is something Sadie wants, very much.

This might be a feeling which hasn’t been very reciprocated from him.

So, Charles has, as the first week settled into the second, and the second now moving into a third, not necessarily welcomed any opportunities for such a conversation. With calmer days comes less urgent needs falling on his shoulders, so between… Everything else, Charles has managed to meet back up with Eagle Flies and Paytah a few more times since their first.

With a smaller gang comes closer walls, which isn’t something Charles realized he’d feel claustrophobic about again until he’s here. Because everyone is here, since there’s nowhere else to be, and the air is charged with something he falls short of being able to name or address, and Sadie is glancing at him in a certain way whenever they’re around each other, and Arthur is talking to him almost normally which for some reason irks Charles even more, and everyone else is either anxious or grieving or waiting.

The only option he has is either sitting out here on this hollow rotten log and breathe, or seek out what other reprieve he can.

So he’s been spending some time with the Wapiti tribe lately.

Eagle Flies has brought him back to the reservation, let him meet Rains Fall, and speak to some of the other members. They’re a kind people despite the hardship that has befallen them, which isn’t necessarily a surprise to Charles. They don’t ask him a lot of questions, but the few that are posed lead to long conversations interspersed with patient quiet where Charles is allowed to collect his thoughts before voicing them. It’s an experience he’s only really had with Arthur, before this, but the perspective afforded in return is different. He doesn’t expect them to be like what he remembers from when he was young, but in some ways it is similar, which settles something in him, and in some ways it’s different enough to give him pause.

The topic of soulmates came up again, in the company of Eagle Flies and Paytah, and when prompted, Charles found it in him to share.

There was some comfort to be taken in what was shared with him in return. The idea that they are all connected, part of one another and the world they walk in, hadn’t been new to Charles for a long time, but with the connotation it became clear that the Wapiti viewed the marks as simple guides, or compasses.

“The person bearing the same mark as you holds the promise of being among the more impactful connections you make while alive,” Paytah said, smiling kindly at Charles from across the fallen game, the both of them elbow-deep in blood and guts. “But not the only one, if you don’t let it. In many ways I am just as beholden to my elders and my tribe as I am Eagle Flies. We are part of one another, but we are part of many other things too.”

Eagle Flies had smirked over at them, both wry and fond, obviously having heard Paytah’s words from where he stood keeping watch nearby.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Charles asked, voice just above a whisper, because he still couldn’t shake it. Couldn’t fathom not being so, in a tribe with the army breathing down their necks, the soulmate of the chief’s son. Paytah hadn’t really assuaged his fears in this regard, because he couldn't, back straight with grim determination while his eyes sparkled with compassion and stubbornness.

“Absolutely petrified, but I refuse to cower and hide because of it. That wouldn’t be a life worth living.”

The words still swirl and dance in his mind as he sits there, on that log, attempting to figure out where he’s landing, on all this. Asking for time and accommodation from Arthur would be cruel if Charles didn’t actually spend some of that time trying to work through the hangups he has. The Wapiti tribe has helped, and Charles has come to the conclusion that perhaps some differing perspectives is what he needs, for this.

And he knows Sadie knows. He knows that she’s figured it out.

He’s not fully sure how exactly, but he saw the way something clicked into place in her mind, back when they’d just moved here and they were discussing their next moves while watching over Arthur. He’d woken up, still delirious from the drugs Swanson had given him, and what he’d said could have been seen as rather innocent but Charles saw the look in Sadie’s eyes, like a spark of recognition. It was only further confirmed when Lenny got sick for one night and Charles aired the idea of it being due to Sean. He had practically seen her come to a conclusion.

She knows.

And she’s been wanting to talk about it.

“How you doin’ Charles?”

The sigh he lets out is quiet, only really noticeable by the subdued rise and fall of his shoulders, but he figures he might as well give in. She must’ve just come back from Shady Belle, having gone there to leave another copy of that letter she’s written with Lenny. They’ve written it out a few times, apparently with some variance in wording and story according to Lenny’s wishes, left it at a few post-offices and now at their old base, since they’ve hit just over two weeks of waiting. He briefly wonders whether Arthur and Lenny have come back from visiting Hosea’s grave yet, as he taps the ash off his cigarette.

“Just fine, takin’ a break.”

“That so?” Sadie asks, coming into view as she rounds the log, pausing only briefly to look him over with her hands on her belt before settling next to him. She seems relaxed enough, but Charles knows what he’s doing, giving her the opportunity she’s been seeking.

“Yup,” he answers, taking another drag and filtering the smoke out his nose. He’s never been a man of many words, and he figures she probably has a better way of addressing the unsaid than he does, so he leaves it at that.

They spend some time in quiet companionship from there though, and some part of Charles nearly believes perhaps she won't bring it up. Maybe the looks she’s been sending him lately haven't been as knowing as he’s imagined. But then he can feel her make a decision, feel the energy in the air around them shift as her eyes settle on his frame.

She watches him intently for a long moment, most of which Charles spends keeping his eyes on the half-submerged tree some yards out in the swamp, until he finally gives in and turns to meet her shrewd gaze. The way her squint tightens just a bit would be imperceptible were they not so close next to one another.

“You know,” she drawls, voice carefully casual, eyeing him as if he’s a cornered animal she might need to subdue – which would be a bit much, really, but it’s not like Charles hasn’t been partially avoiding her lately, so he understands her caution. “Jake and I didn’t get together right away, despite our soulmarks matching.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, somewhat surprised at the approach being more tactful than he really expected, as well as the information shared. “That right?”

“Yup,” she answers, still watching him, probably a little puzzled at finally even getting this far without Charles having some reason or other to stand up or leave again. “Didn’t like the idea of bein’ forced to love someone, one way or the other. But now I know, I’d’ve loved him just the same, even without the marks.”

Charles’ brows knit together in a slight frown, turning her words over in his head as he takes another long drag from his cigarette. He brings his gaze back upon the still waters, speaking through smoke once he has the words he needs. “... How’d you figure?”

The quiet lingers after his question is posed, but Charles doesn’t really mind. There’s a comfort in the moments where people need and take the time to consider their words before they say them, so he doesn’t mind the way he can feel Sadie’s thoughtful gaze on him for most of it either. When she holds out her hand for his cigarette, he complies, and turns to watch her take a drag of it, leaning back on one hand as she pushes smoke into the air and watches the treetops above while finally giving her answer.

“I’d’a gone just as mad, on his death. Maybe crazier.”

His eyes don't move, but he swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

“... You think it worth it?”

Sadie sighs and closes her eyes, frame sinking almost in defeat. She taps some ash off the cigarette before handing it back to Charles who accepts, though at the condition of Sadie boring her gaze into him as she answers his question.

“The marks don’t do nothin’ but give us incentive to appreciate someone who’ll value us just as much right back, Charles. The rest is just hard work.” She swallows and lets her gaze drop to her hands for a moment, before shaking her head slightly and looking back out at their surroundings, her voice coming out a touch more melancholy now. “Way I figure; world’s already so goddamn rotten, I’m grateful I got a chance at real peace ‘n’ happiness at all. Only regret I have is not havin’ more time… Not givin’ it a chance earlier.”

“Sadie…”

Once again her eyes are back on him, sharp and full of that righteous fire, any pretense now entirely dropped.

“He’s a good man. So are you. However, stay stuck on indecision too long, soon there won’t be a choice no more, and then there’ll be somethin’ to mourn anyway.” Charles blinks as he recoils slightly, unsure what to say, but Sadie isn’t done, letting out a long breath as if to calm herself before continuing.

“But if you’re askin’ me if it’s worth having a person, the way I had Jake, the way you’d have him? I’d tell you I would do it all over again, every step of it, even knowin’ the outcome, for the time I did have with him.”

“Why?” He has to ask, cigarette all but forgotten in his hands until Sadie seems to think better of it, taking it back again with a shrug in answer before bringing it to her lips.

“Same reason I’m still here in this gang, I s’pose. Same reason I thought you was. Same reason folks flock to each other even when they’re not soulmates,” she says, taking another drag and letting out the smoke again, before continuing when she realizes Charles is still watching her. “We need people with us, Charles, you know that. Figure soulmates are just… A heightened version of it, or somethin’. Confirmation that we’re better off together than alone. ‘Cause there’s good between us, and it can outweigh the bad. But it’s still up to us, y’know?”

And somehow, after everything, or maybe because of everything, that’s what makes the wound-up parts within him finally settle properly. Like pieces of a puzzle finally slotting into their rightful places, so the colors of the whole imagery may be fully appreciated.

Sadie’s gaze, of course, turns shrewd, and she stands up, smirking as she says. “Don’t think they’ll be back for a few more hours yet. You got some time. Just don’t leave it too long.”

Charles nods almost dazedly, accepting back what’s left of the cigarette when she holds it out for him, and watches her turn and leave without another word.

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

“Well, what now?”

“W-What now?” Micah’s tone is mocking, and Javier can’t help but narrow his eyes at him, looking up through loose locks. “What do you mean, what now?”

“I mean,” Bill starts, and Javier can tell by his tone he’s already ticked off, no need to look up from his hunched over position. There’s a line to ride with teasing Bill, mockery often ill-received, and honestly, the question was a fair one. “We’re headin’ back to Lemoyne, again, and we’re all wanted men!”

“We slip ashore one by one,” Dutch answers. “Find out what’s what.”

“And we don’t cut and run now?” Micah asks, looking over at their leader incredulously, as if it’s even an option. “Head back to Blackwater.”

Javier leans back a little, away from the man opposite him, feeling the sense of disdain in his gut. Bill’s knee grazes his shoulder, and Javier knows the other is keeping an eye on him – probably will be until he can stand on his own again – but he feels a little calmer for it. A reminder of where he is, who he’s with, despite the sudden slight tension along his spine.

“No,” Dutch says decisively and Javier allows himself to relax back further.

“Why not?”

“Because…” Dutch answers, staring intently at Micah, and Javier would hate to be at his end right now. What Dutch says, goes, there’s no reason to question his plans at this point. At least Bill gets that; the importance of being loyal, to the gang, to Dutch. “The last thing they’ll be thinking is for us to turn up.”

“And we gotta go back,” Sean supplies helpfully, leant back against the stacked cargo boxes next to the ones Javier and Bill are sitting on. “Ain’t cuttin’ or running without our people, that’s for sure.”

“And how you know they even waitin’ for us?”

“Well I’m sure nobody’s waiting for you, Micah, but I happen t’have several close friends in that there gang we left behind, as well as my fuckin’ soulmate, so I ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til I find ‘em,” Sean says, repositioning to face the other man better. A vicious smirk slides onto his lips, the cocky glint in his eyes strangely welcome for the comfort provided by its familiarity, at least to Javier. “Now if you wanna fuck off ‘n’ run it alone I’m not bloody stoppin’ ya, really, would love to see how far ya get. Least I won’t have’ta deal with ya no more.”

Javier can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes him. Really, he’s more so glad to hear Sean be so outspokenly aligned with his own thoughts on the matter, and to see him return to his quick-witted self so easily. It helps feed the hope that they can all move past the hellish things they experienced on that island.

“That funny to you, is it?” Micah’s drawling voice comes at him, an eyebrow raised, though he doesn’t seem particularly offended.

Javier shrugs, not bothering to wipe the lingering smile off his face. He’s not super keen on encouraging Micah to leave, necessarily, especially not with Dutch’s disapproving look weighing from above, but still… “A little.”

“Ain’t none of us running at it alone,” Dutch breaks in, raising his hands as if to calm a fight.

“Broke ‘n’ alone, they’re gonna pick us off one by one. But once we get back, we’ll need to split up, keep a low profile, ‘n’ try to track down the rest. Carefully. See if they sent any mail,” he says, nodding in Javier and Bill’s direction, to which they both nod back. “Sean, you check Shady Belle, see if you find any clues. We’ll find each other eventually, we always do.”

“And then what?” Javier asks, reiterating the question which started this entire conversation, glancing briefly up at Bill, who’s sat watching quietly with his arms crossed, before settling his eyes back on Dutch.

“Then we meet up, gather the family. We get some money and get the hell outta there. That’s the plan.”

“Sure,” Sean huffs, crossing his arms as he settles back against the wooden boxes again, turning his face towards the sun beating down from the blue sky above. “Worked well for us this far, ain’t it?”

“We have been in a bad way. Listen… We got family back there, waitin’ for us, needin’ us. Anyone got any better ideas, I’m all ears. Anyone?”

The quiet is deafening, despite the rolling waves and the creaking of the boat around them. There’s a long exhale from Dutch, then the sound of boots on metal as he finally walks away. Still nobody says anything for a very long time, before Micah gets up and leaves with a sideways glance at Sean, who completely ignores him in favor of seemingly basking in the sun.

Javier sighs.

“Bill,” he says quietly, straightening his back and lifting the arm closest to the other man. “Help me up.”

“What am I, some sort of nursemaid?” Bill grumbles, entirely for show, as he slides down from where he’s sitting and gently grabs Javier by the arm anyway. It allows Javier to use him as support in an attempt to stand on the moving boat.

“Maybe, you’ve done well so far,” Javier chuckles as he steadies, breathing in the sea air for a second before turning to look at the other man. “We need to speak.”

Bill’s eyes widen fractionally, but he clears his throat and nods, leading Javier by the forearm as they go look for a spot more private.

#AV #Av chapter 43 #teki talks #fic posting #second part for the sweet person asking for these chapters!#thats all i can do tonight though i hope its enough <3

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