#but my dad and his friend figured out how to set it up in 15 minutes and just | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

voidvannie · 8 months ago

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𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐄

🖇⛸️꒱ 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞

𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ・゜・。. tyler’s brothers come to tennessee to surprise her but end up being surprised themselves.

April 15, 2021

“Mat! I’m getting in the shower!” Tyler calls out to her boyfriend of just a couple of weeks as she gathers her clothes from the bed where she had them laid out, "Kelsea is on her way! Let her in please!"

"Okay!" The Islanders player calls back, "Waffles or pancakes?!"

"Waffles!"

Mat shakes his head with a laugh as he hears the shower turn on as he walks towards the kitchen, getting everything ready to make them breakfast before they left to her rehearsal for her show tonight.

He can hear her singing from his place at the stove, causing a smile to appear on his face as he poured the batter into the waffle maker, closing the lid so that it could cook.

As he pulls two plates from the cabinet, someone begins to aggressively ring the doorbell, "Kelsea, you have a freaking key! Why do you ring the doorbell — oh."

Staring back at him were Quinn, Jack and Luke all with different expressions on their faces.

Quinn's grip on the duffel in his hand loosens, causing the bag to hit the porch as he looks up at the Islanders man with a glare on his face.

Jack's hand is still raised from when he was ringing the doorbell, eyes wide as his eyes shifted from Mat to the inside of his sister's house.

And Luke's jaw dropped at the sight of the shirtless hockey player before an amused chuckle left his lips at the fact that his sister had gotten caught red handed with a guy so early in the morning.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn questions, "And where the hell is your shirt?"

"That is a good questioned....," Mat scratches his nervously as he points behind him, "Let me...go find it."

Jack points as the boy rushed towards the bedrooms, "Did that — what?"

"Baby!" Mat rushed through the bedroom door where his girlfriend stood with a towel around her body as she brushed out her wet hair. "That was not Kelsea at the door!"

"What? Who was it?"

"Oh, you know, just all of your brothers!" Mat hissed quietly, running his fingers through his hair.

The brush in her hand slips, landing on the floor as she looks up with wide eyes, "What? What are they doing here?"

"I didn't stop to ask questions! Where the hell did my shirt go?!"

"It's dirty, Mat." Tyler says as she quickly gets dressed, "You just — change and I'll try to defuse the situation out there."

"Quinn looked like he wanted to kill me!"

With a sigh, Tyler quickly makes her way down the hallway towards the living room where her brothers were at, "Luke!"

Luke grins happily at his older sister, crushing her into a hug, "Tyler! Oh, you are in big trouble."

"Yeah, I figured." She mumbles as the oldest and the youngest pull away from each other.

"So, do you want to explain to us why Mat Barzal just answered your door without a shirt on?!" Quinn stands up to look at his sister, arms crossed over his chest.

"Oohh, he's giving you the dad look." Jack clicks his tongue as he turns around to look at his older siblings just as Mat comes from the bedroom now dressed in what he's wearing to the concert.

"Okay, so funny story, actually." Tyler laughs nervously as she rocks on the heels of her bare feet, "Soo, Mat and I are.... together."

"Toge...you're together?" Quinn raises an eyebrow.

"Quinn," Tyler sighs, "Can we please do this after my show tonight? I seriously do not have the time for this."

𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡

"Hi, friends." Tyler smiles at the loud screams that fill her ears as she sits on a stool in the middle of the large stage, halfway through with the show. "How's everybody doing tonight?"

The crowd cheers louder causing an even bigger smile to breakout across the blonde's face.

"That's what I like to hear! So, I had my whole set list set for tonight, but I wanna change things up a bit." Tyler spoke as she set the sparkling silver microphone on the stand, "Okay, somebody special is in the crowd tonight and I kinda wrote a song for him. It's also a new song that had yet to be released so you guys will be the first ones to hear it. This is Sad Songs For Sad People, and I promise, it's not what it sounds like." She laughs as her band behind her begins to play.

"When I'm drivin' down the road, I got my radio plain' heartbreak FM. And if I got blue skies, I don't know why but I'd rather see a cloud roll in." Tyler sings with a sparkle in her eye, "Boy, since I met you somethin' in me changed."

Quinn watches his older sister singing as he sits next to Mat, Jack and Luke on the other side of his. His arms are crossed and a straight look on his face, mad that Tyler hadn't told him about her and Mat, the two always telling each other everything.

"I guess it's probably time, I saw somethin' 'bout those eye, and your smile, you know what it does to me. 'Cause of you, I got somethin' new to sing. I write sad songs for sad people, somethin' 'bout the pain."

The older of the Hughes brothers smiles softly as he takes notice of the way Mat was looking up at his sister as if she hung the stars in the sky, his phone out as she recorded the blonde sitting on stage.

"I write sad songs for sad people, but I wrote this love song for you."

𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡

"Hey." Tyler's voice spoke from behind Quinn as he sits on the back porch of her house, everyone else in the house asleep, "What are you doing up so late?"

"Just thinking." Quinn mumbled as she moves to sit on the porch swing with him, knees coming up to her chest as she lays her head onto his shoulder.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She mumbled after a few moments of silence.

"Out of all the guys, another hockey player?" Quinn raised an eyebrow though she couldn't see him.

Tyler chuckled, "You knew Mat and I were friends."

"I didn't think you would date the guy!" He throws his hands up, "I thought you learned that lesson after Josh."

"Q, I loved Josh, but I wasn't in love with Josh. He was a good guy, trust me when I tell you that, but it just didn't feel right with him." Tyler says, playing with the rings on her finger, the same very one that she and all of her brothers have, only she wears her constantly.

"But if feels right with Mat? An Islanders player?"

"Being with Mat is like...a breath of fresh air. I feel like I can honestly be myself when I'm with him. And it's not like I intended to fall for him, it just happened over the course of our friendship." She looks out into her backyard as she talks.

"He makes you happy?"

Tyler smiles, "Yeah, he makes me happy."

Quinn sighs as he turns his head to kiss the top of her head, "I'm not going to tell you who date, especially since you're older than me, I just want you to be happy with who you are dating."

"I am."

"Good." Quinn pauses, "But I'll kiss his ass if he ever hurts your feelings."

She lets out a laugh, "I don't doubt that. I love you, bubba."

"I love you too, sissy."

✩ ━ ❪ feel free to send an any request of things you want to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts about what your read! i would love that! ❫

#🏹tylerhughes #hughes!reader #hughes!sister #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #jack hughes sister #tyler hughes x mat barzal #quinn hughes sister #luke hughes sister #tennesse orange au

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mimasroom2 · 4 months ago

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Accelerating fury pt 2

Pt 1 :3

HELLOOOOO! Here is part 2!! :3. Sorry it took me so long,, I’ve been helping my friend set up an Etsy shop + I have work. Btw!! We WILL find out exactly what Ellie did for the judges once the games start😉… I hope this doesn’t feel like I skipped over some things. I wanted to focus more on the important stuff rather than providing every detail like I tend to do.. like just get to the damn hunger games already fuck🙄

C/w: Same c/ws as the first one. Reader dissociates for a little bit. Twice. Ellie is more of a bitch oooooohhhh. Mention of suicide in literally 3 sentences near the end,, it’s SUPER minor.

U guys know the drill,, the dress I included is the one the reader wears during the interviews.

W/c: 4.7k

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

The day was going well. You and Jesse switched places for training, although he did give you a weird look when you mentioned you taught Ellie how to make a fire. That night you have dinner with all four of your new friends: Jesse, Tommy, Maria, and Dina. You discuss what skill to show off to the gamemakers tomorrow with Tommy after you all eat. He was glad to hear about how the training went, especially because this is around the time tributes usually start acting alone. This being said, Tommy thinks it’s best you and Jesse don’t know what the other is planning.

“So you’re tellin’ me you jus’ played footsies with the cute girl and showed her a skill you already know? That more than half the tributes already know??” He leans against the wall of the hallway that you two are talking alone in. He’s glaring down at you as if it’s his own life at risk.

“Tommy, I wasn’t playing footsies. I literally didn’t even touch her.” You roll your eyes.

“Not what I meant.” He shakes his head.

“And besides, I figured out how to tread silently on different terrain all by myself.” You cross your arms and smirk proudly.

He perks up at this, holding his hand out in a ‘stop’ motion. “Woah woah woah, hold yer damn horses. You mean all terrain?”

“Pshh, no, of course not. You can’t be silent on broken glass.” You tap your head, as if to say ‘duh’. “But yeah, most of them.”

“Use that.” He smiles and pats your head how all dads do.

“But that’s lame. There’s gonna be people throwing axes and carving tools. They’re gonna give them a good score and not me and then I’m not gonna get sponsored.” You play it off like you’re just pouting, but you are actually starting to get scared. I mean, it’s life and death.

“But you can’t do any of that. Use what you can and you will not regret it. Trust me.”

A few hours later, you and Jesse are sitting side by side again outside the training center. This time, Ellie’s there early, and her mentor is scolding her. She’s probably getting the same lecture you got, bumping coochies or whatever the hell Tommy said. Once she’s done getting scolded she looks around the room and makes eye contact with you. She smiles slightly, but doesn’t wave or anything.

Once everyone is there, the head trainer comes out. “Alright. We gotta lot of you to get through, and if we want these results for the sponsors this evening, we better get moving. District 1 male tribute, you are up.”

You look up a few rows ahead of you, and see Ellie fidgeting with her fingers. What kind of skill would she even have? She’s not a career, but if she does well they might boost her score because of that. She didn’t know how to make a fire before she met you. She was playing around with that pocket knife, maybe that’s it? You didn’t really pay any more attention to her once you figured out your terrain thing.

Ellie was the fourth one of all the tributes to go in. She actually looked nervous as she stepped inside. It’s completely soundproof in there, so if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to hear anything even if you tried. You look at Jesse and he smiles slightly. A little weary. Maybe after the scores are announced he’ll tell you what he does in there.

After about 15 minutes or so, Ellie comes back out, wiping the fake blood they use off her face. It scared you at first, but after the first tribute went in, the head trainer told you all the gamemakers added it to be more realistic. If by realistic they mean inhumane, then yeah. Sure. You wave her over to talk to you as she heads over to the exit.

She leans over and whispers, “Only had one skill to show off. Don’t know if they understood it.. but uh, we’ll see.” She gives you a goofy grin that’s slightly too big, and two thumbs up, before walking off.

What does she mean ‘don’t know if they understood it?’ If she used her little knife, wouldn’t they have seen it? The gamemakers have been known to not pay attention to the tributes fairly often, but who wouldn’t stop and stare at Ellie. She did walk out with that weird fake blood on her, after all.

Before you know it, it’s Jesse’s turn. He stands up and gives you one of his small smiles as he heads into the room. You don’t want to, but your mind always ends up drifting back to Ellie. You wondered how she was going to act in the arena. Would she still talk to you like how she does now? Without caring what the careers and rest of the tributes think? You guys haven’t even talked about the games, and what you were going to do in them. It seemed almost rude to you. What’s the point in talking about alliances now? And why would she choose you? She’d be much better off with virtually anybody else..

Suddenly, the same girl pops her head out and calls your name. You silently curse yourself. All this thinking about Ellie has got you too worked up. You needed to focus and calm down if you wanted to show off your skill correctly. You take a deep breath and walk inside.

You had requested different types of terrain, and you saw them all laid out in little boxes on the floor. They were basically built like sand boxes; there was actual sand in the first one, and then grass, and then they kept going up in difficulty, all the way up to the broken glass you were talking about that you knew was going to crunch.

You walk up to where the gamemakers are. There’s a forcefield but you know they can still hear you. You raise your voice a little, “Uhm, hey. I’m not doing this again, so… if you miss it, you miss it.” You shrug at them. Better that they know you’re starting so they don’t miss it. You plan on them not hearing anything.

You check to make sure your shoes are all good. They’re nothing special, just the ones they give you for training. You start on the sand. It’s easy, you just hop a little so you don’t sink in, and you’re good. No noise. Next you try the grass. Again, no noise.

Okay, now it was really time to show off. The next one is snow. They made it the kind that creaks and sinks in a little, so you have to go slow on this one. You step heel to toe, and try to make your steps as flat as possible, so your weight is distributed. You pause, making sure the snow moves slowly under your foot. You decide to take shorter steps, instead of the long ones you used on the sand. Rinse and repeat. No sound.

You glance up at the gamemakers, and they seem a little intrigued. Well, little isn’t good enough. You move onto dried leaves over cement. Any child would go crazy over this. You bend your knees slightly, like you’re skiing. You basically use the same method as the snow. It doesn’t take as long, and no sound was made. You hear a quiet murmur from the gamemakers. Fuck yeah.

You go through a couple more. Things like gravel, mud, a wooden deck, and metal grates. And then you get to the glass. The shoes they gave you are tough enough that no glass will come through and cut you, but that’s not what you’re worried about. You keep your arms close to your body and try your best balancing as you walk across. Slowly. Even slower. Absolutely no sudden movements. You’re holding your breath, until you get to the end. You weren’t completely silent, but you were damn as close as you could get. You hop down from the row of boxes and smile at the gamemakers. They don’t clap or anything, they probably aren’t allowed, but they smile back.

Let’s fucking go.

“It was soooo great, Tommy. Everyone was watching me at the end like I actually feel really good about it and I can totally tell they wanted to clap for me-“

You’re cut off from your rambling by Maria shouting “It’s hereeee!” in a sing song voice. You all scramble to the giant couches in front of the tv to watch Caesar announce the scores. You look over and notice Dina is sitting criss cross apple sauce by Jesse. She has her hand on his leg. Huh.

Your head snaps back to the tv as soon as Caesar starts talking. “Good evening to all of Panem, tonight we have our special scores straight from the gamemakers! Sponsors, get your pencils ready, because you are going to want to mark down who you’re placing bets on!”

As he goes on with the introduction, you look at Tommy with an exaggerated face that says ‘EEK IM SO NERVY!’ He just smiles and gives you a thumbs up.

As always, Caesar starts with the tributes from district 1. You scoff as their almost perfect scores pop up on screen.

“Fucking careers.” You hear Jesse murmur, and you widen your eyes in agreement.

The district 2 male tribute also has an amazing score. You tense up, holding your breath when you see Ellie’s next, almost as if it’s your own damn score they’re showing. You look around at everyone else in the room, they’re glaring at her, like she’s some sort of threat. Shit. You remember that she actually is.

“Ellie Williams, with a score of 11.” Your jaw drops. Now you’re really curious as to what she did in there. You notice Jesse looking at you. You want to wave it off, but you give him a concerned look.

The next of the scores go by unbearably slow. Tommy and Maria make a few comments about each one. You and Jesse just agree as fast as you can so you can go back to worrying about what your own scores are going to be.

Jesse’s score is up. You don’t want to freak him out, so you stare at the tv. Caesar announces that he got an 8.

“Holy shit!!” Dina leaps off the couch and jumps up and down while holding Jesse’s hands. “That’s like- the best you can get without being a career!”

Jesse laughs and everyone claps for him. In other circumstances you’d probably hug him. Dina’s got that covered. You give him a look that says ‘ohhhh I see what’s going on here’. He just rolls his eyes at you.

You were so focused on how touchy Dina was being that you completely forgot your score was next. Tommy nudges you a little and points at the screen. There’s the little video they took of you. You wonder what Ellie is thinking right now.

Caesar announces your name, pauses for a second, and says the number ten.

TEN???

“HOLY SHIT!!” You jump up from the couch at the speed of light and turn around to face your friends. Jesse and Dina’s jaws are dropped.

Maria raises a glass and Tommy gives you a high five. “Told yah it would work.” He says, and you grin at him.

The next day are your interviews. When Dina’s not busy flirting with Jesse, she’s been working on brand new outfits for you guys.

“I think you’ll like it. Hopefully. I’m doing something a bit different this year.” Dina says while she’s pulling out your outfit from racks of clothes.

“You do something different every year.” You reply. Wasn’t that the whole point?

“Yeah, but I mean like different different. You’re doing really well so far. Everyone loved you at the parade, and now sponsors are talking about your score from yesterday.”

You just nod. You really should be proud of yourself, but every day that the games get closer, you find that’s all you can think about.

“Here.” Dina says nonchalantly, and you have to do a double take as she pulls out another beautiful dress. It’s white like your other one, but nowhere near as fancy. It’s still really nice though. It’s probably made of the highest grade satin you can get in Panem, with silver beading on the chest. It’s long, and has a little slit for your leg, although it’s probably more so that you have room to walk and don’t trip. There’s even little cuffs for your hands and arms. And of course it can’t be a Dina design without the piece de resistance: Angel wings.

You whistle, and look up at Dina. “You really want me to wear this?”

“That’s why I have it on a mannequin in front of you.” She smiles, and leaves the room for you to change.

You don’t really have a plan of what to say during the interview. Tommy said to just “go with the flow” and whatever you say will sure to have the sponsors going crazy over you.

As soon as you get the dress on, Dina comes back in and leads you to the line where all the tributes are.

You get a glance at Ellie for the first time since she scored an 11. She’s wearing another suit. This time, it’s dark green, and compliments her eyes. Her hair isn’t in its usual messy half up half down style, it’s actually neat for once. Probably per request of her stylist. She turns slightly when she sees you, and you feel your heart beat out of your chest for a second.

“That damn girls gonna be the death of you.” You jump a little when you suddenly hear Jesse’s voice behind you.

You frown and shove him a little. “You really shouldn’t say that. Yknow we’re in a death game, right?” You two smile at each other. You’re glad that you guys can still joke around in times like this. All of the other tributes are glaring at each other in line.

Suddenly, you hear a roar of applause, and someone laughing into a microphone, which can only mean that Caesar is up on stage. “Hah ha!! It is time.. to meet each and every tribute face to face!!! Yes! How exciting…”

As he drones on, you look ahead and see Ellie straightening out her suit.

The first three tributes are all careers, so of course their interviews go well. They seemed to have turned up the charm factor to 110% compared to how they were during training. Pretty soon Ellie’s at the front of the line. One of the Avox’s puts his hand on her shoulder to guide her when it’s her turn. She swiftly backs away and puts her hand in front of his face in a ‘stop’ motion, and expertly walks toward the stage.

Caesar introduces her as he holds out his arm. She walks on stage with her hands in her pockets. A mix of casual and confident. She just smirks when she hears how crazy the crowd is for her. If you didn’t know her, you swear she’d be coming off like the biggest douchebag right now.

Even so, the people are eating it up.

Caesar sits down with her after shaking her hand. “So, miss Williams, I hear you a not a career. Would you tell us a bit about that?”

She actually manspreads and folds her hands together. “Damn right, Caeser. No offense but.. never wanted to be here in the first place.” She’s so nonchalant about it.

“May I ask.. I hope I’m not intruding, but… you did this for someone very dear to you. Yes?”

“I guess since you asked…” she sighs dramatically, “the rumors are true. I was forced to volunteer.” She looks down at the floor and sighs again. She’s turning this up way more than you would ever expect. This new persona seems exactly like her true self, and at the same time, not like her at all. The crowd goes absolutely bonkers. It goes on for awhile, and she just keeps playing up her sad little act.

She leans forward. “So, Abby. I know you’re watching this. Hah, I’m being televised to all of Panem right now. My biggest ‘fuck you’ would go to The Man, but right now, it’s going to you.”

She looks directly in the eyes of one of the cameras, cups her hands around her mouth, and says a nice long and drawn out “Fuuuuuuuuuckkkkk you.”

You scoff at it. At her. This is so fucking dumb. They probably have to censor it anyway. Your eyes narrow at her as she gets mixed reactions from the crowd.

Any reaction is better than no reaction.

You zone out a little. Her interview seems like it’s going on forever. They talk a little bit about her choice to wear suits instead of dresses. And how weird she thinks everyone else is. You fiddle around with your dress as you grow more and more nervous.

You’re pretty sure that Caesar is actually giving her a couple more minutes than the tributes before her. I mean, can you blame him? She’s basically walking sex right now.

“You sure are one of the most true to yourself tributes out there. Haha!!” He leans in closer to her, and his voice lowers a little, “I have to say, you are not like the others, are you?”

She has this awful shit eating grin on her face. “Nope. You’ll never see me acting like something I’m not just to get sponsors.” She pauses, then says, “Especially all sweet like an angel.”

Your grip tightens on your dress when you hear it.

That. Little. Bitch.

You don’t even pay attention to Jesse’s interview. You’re so mad. You never get mad. You weren’t even mad on the day you got reaped.

Before you know it, it’s your turn. You let the Avox touch your shoulder and guide you to the curtain backstage. You feel like your mind is completely blank. You can hear what Caesar is saying perfectly fine, but you don’t care. The world around you suddenly doesn’t seem real.

Caesar calls your name and you go on stage to greet him. Your face is completely blank. But you don’t feel relaxed. All you want to do is go anywhere else right now. You don’t care about anything anymore, you just want to get this done as fast as possible. You walk on stage so lightly, like you’re a ghost. Like you’re floating. You shake Caesar’s hand and sit down.

“Quite the outfit we have going on here today.” He gestures to your whole get up, which is the exact last thing you wanted him to mention. Of course Dina just had to make something so memorable and distinct.

“Yeah. Different than the other one.” You say. That’s all you can manage to say. He gives you a short look that says ‘cmon man I’m trying to help you out here.’

You inhale sharply, and say, “I know it’s not…. Everyone’s favorite.. but I hope you like it.” You turn towards the crowd at the last line. You’re taking a big leap here, for calling out Ellie like that. The audience loved her after all.

There’s a few whistles and polite clapping. Everyone is silent for a few seconds.

“Now, living in district 8, you make clothes for the Capitol all the time. How is it now that you’re actually here?” He tries to prompt you.

“It’s fine.” You say.

The interview goes on like this. He asks you a question and you stare off into space just to reply with a short answer.

However, you look into the audience. They’re completely silent. Not because they’re bored, but because they’re intrigued. You’re probably the only one in the history of the games to not spend your interview talking so the sponsors can know you better. It seems that they’re way more interested in something new.

After your interview you float back off stage. You stand by yourself for a second to try and regroup.

The careers and the other tributes who are done are standing a little further down the hallway. You decide to join them. Maybe listening to them drone on and on will snap you out of this. One of them is making fun of Caesar’s hair and the way he talks. You laugh a little at this, especially when some other kids chime in with their impressions of him.

You see Ellie out of the corner of your eye. You look at her, not even caring that you’re staring.

She walks closer and stops when she’s next to you. She smirks, “They’re really paintin’ you as a lil’ angel, huh? You gonna take me to our lord and savior?”

Your face and tone flatten, “We’re leaning into it.”

She looks at you for a second. You can’t tell what she’s thinking or what the look on her face is. She hums out a quick “hm.” before smiling and going on her way.

When you’re at dinner, Tommy is lecturing you. “You’re goddamn lucky the crowd found you interestin’. Even if you didn’t say a damn peep.”

This snaps you out of your trance. “I don’t need any more lectures, Tommy. I get it.” You huff and get up from the table. “I’m going to bed.”

Jesse had already asked you what was going on in your interview, which was sweet, but you really didn’t want to think about it any more. You waved him off, and mumbled something about being upset by what Ellie said. And you tried not to cry. But now, as you entered your room and shut the door, there was no one. No one to see you. And no one to talk to.

You felt like a little kid getting their feelings hurt. But you couldn’t help that your bottom lip quivered and tears started to run down your cheeks. You felt embarrassed by yourself, even in your own room with nobody around. How fucking stupid to be crying over this. It was your own fault for getting your hopes up about Ellie being your friend. This is the goddamn hunger games. There are no friends. She was just pretending to be nice to you as a joke. Or to fool you so she can have an ally and kill you off later.

It’s absolutely fucking hopeless. The games were tomorrow. You were probably going to die first. At the cornucopia. It wouldn’t even be a cool death. You’d be all sad looking at Ellie and some bitch with a bat would come up behind you and bash your head in.

You’re still in the dress you wore in the interviews. Dina’s never going to use it again anyway. That’s what she said, right? You hated the way it looked on you. There was a little pair of scissors in your room. Not big enough to do serious damage to yourself, even if you somehow wanted to. It’s not like you could anyway. You still had family.

You just cut the stupid dress off you. Would’ve been a pain in the ass to get off in the first place.

You decide to just sleep in your underwear, instead of whatever pjs they’ve decided to give you. You think about how dumb it is that you thought about Ellie all through the night the first time you met her. You didn’t even actually meet her until the second day. And now you were here all alone in your room and all your thoughts of Ellie were turning sour. Fucking Ellie. God, what a bitch. Fucking stupid.

You muttered all this to yourself as you paced around your room for far too long. You can hear the clinking of glasses and tableware. You do feel kind of bad for not staying or cleaning up, but what fucking ever. You’re going to die soon. These snobby Capitol bitches can clear their own plates.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on your door. You turn around to face the door, “Tommy, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna talk right now.”

“Uh.. it’s me.” You hear Jesse say. You can see him shuffle his feet through the crack under the door.

“Shit, hold on.” You slip a nightgown on in case he wants to stay. You open the door. There’s a hickey on his neck. “Where the hell is that from?” You ask him, and you realize you sound more like his mom than his friend.

“Uhhh..” is all he has to say, and he flashes you a sheepish grin.

You roll your eyes at him, “Whatever. Just come in.”

You cross your arms and stand in front of your bed. He’s still taller than you, but somehow, he seems small. And nervous. “It’s game day tomorrow. Like… literally.” He laughs a little, then looks at you with concern, “I just wanna say that I’m sorry ‘bout what happened with Ellie. That was fucked.”

If it was anyone else, you probably would have shut them down. Told them to get lost, or whatever it is people say. Told them it’s not their business, and you can handle it. But, since it’s Jesse, you actually find yourself appreciating it.

“Thank you, Jesse. That’s- that actually makes me feel better.” You shuffle your feet around, and you feel stupid for stuttering, but Jesse doesn’t seem to mind.

He stares at you for a while. You don’t know if he’s wait for you to talk, or if he’s thinking of something to say. He softly touches your arm and says, “We’re friends, right?”

You look up at him and nod. You start to cry. He hugs you. There’s no use explaining it; everyone could guess why you’re crying. The feeling of dread in your stomach won’t go away. You think that Jesse is probably the nicest person you’ve ever known.

As if on cue, he hugs you tighter and says, “I’m glad to have known you.”

You know he’s not trying to hurt you, but that simple sentence just makes you cry even more.

You can’t even remember falling asleep. Was that really yesterday? It feels like so long ago. You look at the time. Maria wanted to have breakfast together one last time, but you slept in. You don’t even care. They’re putting you in the games this afternoon. You decide to sit at the window seat in your room and focus on the rain until you’re called.

When it’s time, you follow Tommy to the aircraft which will bring you to the arena. He says he’s proud of you. You just nod.

You get into the aircraft and they put a tracker in your arm. You feel numb again. You look at the other tributes sitting there with you. Jesse’s not there. And Ellie’s not there. That’s probably a good thing. You didn’t know if you could handle yourself if you saw Ellie before the games began.

After you’ve arrived at the arena, an Avox leads you to a little room where you meet with Dina. She says something about wanting to bet on you, if she could. You mutter a quick ‘thank you’ and brace yourself to go in the tube thing that will send you into the arena. You look down at your clothes they’ve put you in. They’re so.. boring. At least compared to all the fancy dresses Dina cooked up for you. They’ve literally given you a t-shirt, jeans, converse, and a hoodie for this year. Just normal clothes.

Dina hugs you and you step in. Within a couple more seconds, it’s lifting you up. You strain to hear any hints of who’s around you. If maybe Jesse is calling out your name or if Ellie’s scoffing at what you all have to wear. You suddenly feel the platform in the tube stop rising.

The countdown starts, and with that, you snap out of your trance.

You finally see what the arena is. And so does the rest of Panem. There’s lines and rows of buildings as far out as you can see. Your eye quickly finds Ellie, and then Jesse. He’s panting harshly. Ellie actually looks scared. Compared to how it was raining earlier, the gamemakers have given you guys sun. Such happy weather to kill each other in. You glance to Jesse, the buildings, then Ellie, and back to the buildings. It’s a whole city.

Holy fuck.

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

#ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #wlw #ellie x reader #lesbian #ellie x fem reader #the hunger games #hunger games #hunger games au #tlou au #the last of us au #jesse tlou #dina tlou

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missamyrisa2 · 9 months ago

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15 questions for 15 friends:

Thanks for thinking of me for these questions, @lady-featherquill ~ this is like mmmmh a certain kind of tingle blushhh tickle for me to be called on~

Were you named after anyone?: Yess I was named after Burl Ives, but you wouldn't know it because I spell and pronounce my name differently~

When was the last time you cried?: I made the mistake of thinking about The Lion King a few hours ago~

Do you have kids?: I make kids all the time. Like crying over the lion king because I randomly was thinking about how real to life the animation was of Simba pulling on Mufasa's ear and holygodddddd he was trying to wake his dad up whyyyyyyy are animators so supremely great at heartsqueezing~~~ I'm just kidding. That was a kid.

What sports do you play/have you played?: all of them I think~ I live by the fake it until you make it mindset and I'm still figuring out the latter part of that. But I did study pickleball thoroughly under its venerable founder, The Earl of Pickle

Do you use sarcasm?: William Shakesman said that's the lowest form of brevity so I try to avoid it whenever possible, also I'm horrendously bad at it to where I sound completely sincere and this has resulted in one too many punches to the face because, surprisingly if you poorly sarcastically announce you'd really love to be just hit in the face there are a LOT of people who are all too eager to jump in~

What is the first thing you notice about people?: That they're always trying to figure out if I hate them because I had a fairly consistent RBF crossed with an inclination to be mysterious. Through online interactions I first take note of their comma frequency because that says so much about a person's Oxford-related preferences.

What's your eye color?: Blue or green or grey depending which type of light you shove in my face, followed by whatever my eyelid is because moonlight makes me squint

Scary movies or happy endings?: I like the ones where nothing is really resolved and the story just sort of stops because everyone gave up and it was probably lunchtime so f*ck it~

Any talents?: I can do a hair flip like nobody's business, which is to say no one should ever be in the business of doing such hair flips because I've knocked over more cups and hit my head on more things than anyone should do in five lifetimes.

Where were you born?: I'm fairly certain I've always been, because whenever I attempt to find the record of my birth Mr. Tumnus plays an enchanting tune and I wake up in a cold room.

What are your hobbies?: arguing on the Internet and street corners why Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is better than Brotherhood. I took up the hobby after some guy stole my bicycle which was an outrage, but that was his hobby and he imparted the wisdom which set me on my path which is that a hobby is something that makes you completely miserable and spreads that misery onto anyone unfortunate enough to share your space.

Do you have any pets?: No, no one ever wants to pet me and it's probably because of the below answer

How tall are you?: 6'2

Favorite subject in school?: History. Not so much for the subject matter but because memorizing facts comes obscenely easy to me and I loved writing excessively lengthy essays which went nowhere and were loaded with as many funny words as I could muster like trying to relate an unrelated event to the future of filibustering.

Dream job?: Tending a lighthouse so I could make giant shadowpuppets over the water and make alligator mouths eat the ships.

Join in and pass it on if you can. Don't feel obligated!

@witchy-giggles @atomiccollectorwitch @crystalstarlight4657 @opossumgirltongue @adventuresofmelody @greenticklerdreams @juviisworld @dusktexanler @polsj103 @fuzzypilled @androgynousangeldreamland @daisylovestickles @yourgothgfswitch @magicaltickles @giggliestgirl

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association-of-ideas · 11 months ago

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I watched Trolls Band Together and my immediate reaction was to start writing fanfiction. I have created a swap AU Viva and Brozone switch roles.

Essentially, Viva is the one that leaves and the bros get lost during their escape from the troll tree. It's heavily inspired by @year2000electronics fic, Brozone: World Tour. I absolutely love this fic so much; I recommend reading it.

Anyways, I've some stuff figured out, but it's not set in stone.

Swap AU (official name pending)

Before the Great Escape, it was highly encouraged for smaller groups and families to escape on their own, enough so that Pop Village had already been established before King Peppy and the rest of the Pop trolls escaped

After the death of her daughter (Cecily) and daughter-in-law (Juniper), Rosiepuff becomes the sole guardian of her five grandchildren: John Dory (15), Spruce (13), Clay (11), Floyd (8), and Branch (egg)

With King Peppy’s blessing and best wishes, Rosiepuff packs up her family and leaves with another escaping family

They’re discovered during their escape and the brothers are separated and scattered across the genres

With ⅘ of her grandkids lost to the sewers, Rosiepuff is crushed, but she pushes through for Branch and acts as the de facto leader of the Pop trolls

During that time, she becomes a guide for trolls seeking to escape and works with Peppy to devise the Great Escape plan

It's during the Great Escape that Rosiepuff is eaten leading the Burgens away from the others and Branch (5) still sees her get eaten, causing him to gray

At the same time, Viva (14) has seen more than any child ever should and the closer she gets to turning 18, the more pressure is put on her to be a good queen

Between the Burgens, escape plans, and her ever-growing stack of responsibilities, Viva cracks under the pressure

During the Great Escape, she splits off from the group after saying goodbye to Poppy (2) and runs away to find a place for herself

Their rushed parting leaves Poppy w/ bittersweet (mostly bitter) feelings about her sister and siblings in general

As an old friend of Rosiepuff’s, Peppy does his best to look after Branch until he's old enough to be on his own, at which point, he leaves to build his bunker

Growing up together gives Poppy more of a reason to want to be around Branch

Branch is also aware of Viva’s existence, but because of how everything went down, he assumes she was eaten and doesn't bring it up

As mentioned earlier, the brothers were separated and scattered across the genres

John Dory ends up in Volcano Rock City

He's found by King Thrash and raised alongside Barb as her older brother

The separation left him with severe trauma that shows itself on a daily basis as over-protectiveness, an unwillingness to venture beyond the kingdom, and a need to fortify it

Bruce find finds himself lost at sea before meeting the Techno trolls who help him to Vacay Island

He spends a week or so drifting across the sea by himself

Eventually, he's found by a pod of Techno trolls and they help find shore

He washes up on Vacay Island and gets a job as a busboy at the restaurant run by Brandy's dad

They meet, fall in love, and the rest is history

Bruce has a tendency to do head counts whenever he's anxious or overwhelmed

Clay ends up in Symphonyville

Clay is found half-conscious by an elderly conductor named Calliope

She takes him and while officially, he is her 'ward', everyone knows him as her grandson

The trauma of the separation leaves Clay w/ selective mutism, preventing him from speaking or singing

Instead, he learns to play the cello and focuses his energy on that as he slowly regains the ability to speak

While he eventually learns how to talk again, he can't sing nor does he want to

Floyd ends up in Lonesome Flats

After getting washed away in the sewers, Sheriff Brooks drags him out of the river and takes him back to town

From there, he’s adopted by the Sheriff and raised as Delta Dawn’s little brother

Being the youngest when he was separated and given the traumatic event itself as well as the physical damage inflicted during the escape, Floyd remembers the least about his family before coming to Lonesome Flats

I might make a separate post going further in depth on Viva's side of things if anyone's interested. I've also come up with character designs for the boys' moms.

#trolls 3 #trolls band together #trolls poppy #trolls branch #trolls rosiepuff #trolls john dory #trolls bruce #trolls clay #trolls floyd #trolls delta dawn #trolls peppy #trolls viva #until i found you AU #uify AU

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stormblessed95 · 4 months ago

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Im writing this just to make you laugh as I cant leave a comment under the post, but that anon that wrote those bullet point and was so proud of themselves that they figured out Jikook's relationship. So there I go:

My parents have been married for 40 years, my mum has been driving for almost 35 years and my dad who passed his driving licence 15 years after my mum (and doesnt drive on daily basis like my mum) to this day tells her how should she park, or when to change gears

I was married for almost 10 years, my husband drove motocykle for almost as long and I have NEVER been on a motocykle with him - simply because it was not my thing, never wanted to and I wouldnt know how to sit on one even now

The amount of times I have been elbowed or kicked when sleeping with someone, even with a friend and not a partner - impossible to count

So to sum up that anon - tell me you're a kid without telling me you're a kid

All the best!

Lmfao! Thanks for sharing.

Also question, can't comment because you aren't comfortable being off anon, or can't comment because Tumblr isn't allowing it as an option for some reason?

100% just curious if I need to check any weird Tumblr settings or something lol

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 10 months ago

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hello :) So have about we do a fanfic we’re reader is Knoxvilles daughter (she’s like 14-15 whatever) and she does stunts but not like the ones the guys do. So one stunt reader does a crazy stunt and gets very mildly hurt but papa Knoxville is not very happy and very worried???

sorry if this long asf 😭😭 ok bye bye love ya 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

Knoxville’s Girl

When Johnny’s daughter does her first stunt (behind her father’s back, mind you) he isn’t very happy with his buddies who helped her out.

(Fluff)

1.1k Words

Warnings: Injuries, mention of underage drinking

An: Thank you so much for the request!! Sorry for the long wait in writing this but as a side note you always give me really interesting requests so thank you XD I decided to add in the fact Y/N skates in this fic because when I was 15 I was really adamant about learning. I never did, but I acquired quite a host of bruises as a result! I still have my old board lying around somewhere, I think…Anyways, thank you for the request and please keep them comming!!

Despite what most of America would think, your dad was one of the most responsible men you knew- at least, when it came to you. A lot of this negative press could be attributed to his whole line of work as a stunt man and generally rowdiness with his best friends who he was so close to that you often referred to them as your uncles. As far back as you could remember, you begged him to let you do stunts- it didn’t even have to be all that crazy, you told him. Hell, you would settle for antiquing one of the guys, but nooo. He would always give you the same reasoning, that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to his little girl. Sure, it was sweet, but it’s not like you were eight years old anymore- you were fifteen, and you could handle a few bruises, what with how you were learning to skateboard (and getting pretty damn good at it if you do say so yourself).

While you were forbidden from any stunts, you were allowed to hang out on set with the other guys in between takes. You spent most of your time sitting around with Bam, shooting the shit and talking about skateboarding for hours until he had to go run off and hurt himself more. One time, when Johnny wasn’t around, he even snuck you a beer from one of the coolers, which you tried really hard to make it look like you didn’t think it was gross. That's all to say that your dad didn’t think he was the best influence on you. You and Bam were pretty close, which is why it was him who you ranted to about all of your problems, “Ughh…my dad never lets me have any fun!” Rolling your eyes, you sat back in your seat as you crossed your arms, “I mean, I’m in high school now! All I wanna do is one stunt- just one!” Bam nodded, listening to you. After a silence, he took a drag off his cigarette and spoke, “I mean, I’m sure we could figure something out…” Your head shot up with these wide, excited eyes and you were practically squealing in disbelief, “Wait, really? Like- really really?!” Grinning at your eagerness, Bam shrugged, “Why not? Hell, I’ll get Steve-O in on it too- I’m sure he could come up with somethin’ that won’t get you old man’s panties in’a bunch.”

The idea came from, of all places, a Willie E. Coyote cartoon- you know, the whole ‘painting a tunnel on a wall and getting someone to run into it’ thing? It was Steve’s idea to put you on a skateboard. “C’mon, all you gotta do is drop in! You can’t fuck it up that bad, Y/N.” He was right, you thought. You’d dropped in a couple of times before at the skatepark and never once did you get hurt, which wouldn’t be a possibility this time around because Bam had the genius idea to put a helmet on you to eliminate any element of risk so there was no way Johnny would ‘get all pissy’ with them and also because it’s not a good idea to get your boss’s daughter concussed.

Poised at the top of the coping, you stared down in dislebeif at the drywall in front of you with the crudely painted tunnel on it that Bam was next to. On the other side was Steve who stood ready with the camera, angling it up as he waved at you. “Alright, little lady! We’re rollin’!” Okay, this was happening. It’s happening. Taking a deep breath, you nodded and, not wanting to look like a total pussy, swallowed any traces of tension you had before squeezing your eyes shut and shifting your weight forward. See, the thing is when you’re on a moving object, it’s kind of a good idea to keep your eyes open so you can, you know, see things. This thought didn’t cross your mind as you hurtled down the vert ramp before crashing into the wall- the wall that was supposed to shatter and leave you completely unscathed. The only problem was that it didn’t. Drywall entirely intact, you bounced off of it, landing on your back with this horrible, burning hot pain in your wrist.

You walked away with a sprained wrist, a black eye, and a couple cuts and bruises. Not too bad for your first real stunt, you thought, and it was funny as hell too, as you discovered when Steve was showing you the footage in the ER waiting room to make you feel better. If only Johnny could see the same humor in it as you did. You would’ve thought they were wheeling you back in a full body cast when they got you back to set later that day. Your dad’s eyes got wide and his jaw nearly hit the ground as he gasped, taking in the sight with a voice dripping in concern, “Jesus Christ…” Hurriedly pulling you into his chest, you were about to say some comment about how you were fine and it was totally worth it cause you had a great time, when he looked up at Steve and Bam like he wanted to bite their heads off, “What the hell did you do to her?” Neither had ever seen Johnny this angry and were both starting to regret being a part of this when Bam piped up, “I mean, I dunno what you’re so mad about, man- she wore a helmet.”

Funny enough, that did end up convincing Johnny to let you in on a couple of their milder Jackass stunts only to make sure you could do this sort of thing in a safer, more controlled environment under his watch. Chasing the guys around with cattle prods, rigging the giant hand to hit them as they walked through the halls of the Dickhouse offices- you even got to help Bam out with doing Rockys on the cast and crew (even though he really thought he was a bad influence now). The only other time you saw your dad that worked up was when Bam came up to him on set in between takes sounding pretty nervous himself. “Hey, Knoxville-“ He jabbed a thumb behind him, “You know I’m usually pretty cool about this kinda stuff, but I don’t really think Y/N should be doin’ stunts like that with wild animals…” Suddenly panicking, Johnny flew out of his seat, running over to the bushes where he heard your snickering, only to find you sitting across with Chris who had his hand in the Black Mamba sock puppet, wiggling it around like a snake and hissing. Falling back laughing, all Johnny could do was shake his head, unable to keep a smile from creeping onto his lips.

#jackass #johnny knoxville #bam margera #steve o x reader #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff

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wedriftlikelonelyplanets · 3 months ago

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55 landoscar 9 sebchal 15 lestappen xx

OKAY ANON, MY DARLING, MY DEAR. You're not getting all three of these at once, unfortunately, however clearly you see my posts so know I WILL write the other two and you'll probably see them at some point.

55 - Landoscar, a kiss out of spite This is roughly based off of the plot creature that ran away in my brain about an age-gap Landoscar teammates fic....and may turn into something more. ANYHOW please appreciate this thing I wrote while listening to Hollywood Undead (yes, I do imagine that a millennial Lando Norris would play Hollywood Undead at the club in a DJ set).

“He’s your teammate, Oscar,” Mark’s voice is patient, “It’s fine for you to be friends, but he’s always going to be your greatest rival,” he’s always so fucking level, and while Oscar knows that Mark knows best, it’s still annoying.

“It’s not like we’re going to be best friends, anyways, Mark, I just want to get to know him, and he invited me out,” Oscar’s tone is bordering on the edge of petulant, leg jumping under the table as he takes a sip from his water bottle. It’s been hard to get here, he gets it, sometimes he even jokes about it. No friends, only enemies. But it’s not entirely untrue. He’s had to work hard to get here. He’s had to claw his way up, tooth and nail. He’s lucky he’s had someone like Mark on his side, someone like Mark, to put faith in him.

But it’s been lonely. Especially when he is who he is, stoic, unbothered, everything hidden under the perfect mask that he’s learned how to put in place. He learned that all on his own, before he even met Mark.

“Besides, he’s what, fuckin’ thirty-two, right? It’s not like we’re going to go off and be besties, braid each other’s hair,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food, and Mark just laughs. “Yeah, okay, Oscar,” he says, shaking his head, “Just be careful,”

Oscar just grumbles an affirmative, finishes shovelling in the too dry chicken from his pre-made meal into his mouth, swallowing hard before finishing his water. “Now, are you done being overbearing, dad?” He asks, smirk tipping up the corner of his mouth, and then Mark’s choking on a mouthful of water, pounding a palm over his chest.

Doesn’t know how to say he’s never going to figure his shit out as a rookie if Mark’s constantly protecting him from invisible enemies.

He gets it. His teammate’s his biggest rival. But his teammate is also Lando Norris, and Oscar hasn’t been able to stop looking since they met. Looking at the way Lando’s neck is thick in the ways Oscar still has to train to achieve, at broad hands and long fingers, perfect curls, and that perfected snarky smirk. Oscar hasn’t been able to stop looking since he joined Mclaren, and honestly, maybe Mark’s right, this is a terrible idea.

But it doesn’t stop him from showing up anyways.

He doesn’t fucking do clubbing. A combination of being freshly legal, a grid rookie, and a fucking introvert. He spends thirty minutes holding up identical t-shirts in different colour to himself in the mirror, each one cast aside because it’s not quite right. Finally settles on something light blue, knows he’s going to regret it when he shows up and he’s the most underdressed one there. Knows at least, that Max will probably be in a fucking Red Bull shirt, so at least he’s trying. Knows the skinny jeans are probably the wrong choice, but at least he knows that he’s not going to get called out for the drawstring jeans that he wears on occasion.

He can’t help but want to try and impress Lando at least a little bit. Though he doesn’t know if he needs to, because really, he doesn’t think Lando’s really ever going to look his way. He’s still not grown out of his teen looks, his hair’s a little too floppy, and his skin’s even more acne prone since he’s started in Formula 1, balaclavas and helmets hardly conducive to his skin being able to breathe. So it’s fine. He’ll try his best, and that’s all that really matters.

Time spools out too slowly, when he’s sitting in the cab, fingers tapping a pattern out on his knee. He keeps flipping his phone screen up, keeps waiting to see if Lando’s texted him, to see if anyone’s texted him, like they’re actually expecting him.

Can’t help but wonder, with ill-timed thought, if the invitation was a joke, and if he’s going to show up and get laughed out of the joint.

The music’s loud, thrumming through his chest like a second heartbeat, and the flashing lights make him feel like a headache’s pressing at his temples. He has to pause to take a breath, digs bitten fingernails into the palm of his hand to give him an anchor, as he glances around the club, tries to find a familiar face, tries to ignore the urge he has to check his phone again, again, again.

It’s Max who spots him first, slings an arm around his shoulders with a broad smile, presses a double gin and tonic into Oscar’s hands, and drags him to where they have a VIP table. There’s a handful of them, Max, Daniel, Carlos tucked off in the corner. “Charles is on the dance floor, somewhere, I think,” Max says, matter-of-factly, like Oscar asked, and he just nods, slowly, takes a sip of the gin and tonic, and then another, lets the sweetbitter flavour wash over his tongue.

“How’re you doin’, mate?” Daniel asks, wide smile breaking across his features, and Oscar finds it impossibly endearing, that Daniel asks like he actually cares. Thinks that he might actually care. “Christ, this is awkward,” Oscar manages to spit out, at the expectant gazes of the other three drivers, and they all dissolve into laughter, awkwardness slipping away.

“Where’s Lando?” He deigns to ask, when he’s two more gin and tonics in, despite not actually liking them, and Max just laughs and shakes his head. “He’s doing a set right now, why do you think he invited you tonight?” says the words like they mean something, and Oscar has to narrow his eyes, to try and parse the meaning, to figure out what Max is saying.

“You mean like he’s DJ-ing?” Oscar asks, and he has to reconcile this with everything he knows about Lando Norris. Arguably, instead of making him cooler, it actually makes him more endearing, a little more human to Oscar, in a way he doesn’t quite know how to explain. “You didn’t know?” Max asks, and Oscar just shakes his head, tosses back another gin and tonic, feels it now, warm and soft on his sharp corners, hazy. He actually wants to dance now, wants to move, a little restless, leg jumping under the table, fingers tapping across the tabletop.

It still feels like there’s dots that he’s not connecting.

It’s easily forgotten, though, when Charles drapes an arm around his shoulder, laughing impossibly loud and high, “You did join us, Oscar,” squeezes the curve of Oscar’s shoulder tightly, “Lando told us he had invited you, but I didn’t think you would show.”

Oscar likes Charles well enough, but the comment makes him bristle. He knows he’s not the most social out of them, a born and bred introvert, but it feels a little unfair, like there’s a challenge underlying there that he shouldn’t have to live up to. Stiffens under Charles grasp, knows that Charles can feel it as he pulls away a little bit. “Lighten up, Oscar, it is not an insult, I’m teasing,”

Charles reaches across the table to grab for Max’s gin and tonic, and Oscar just watches as Max gives it up easily, watches as Charles presses the glass to his lips and tilts his head back, swallowing it back in one easy go. Wonders if there’s something there that he’s not been privy to because he’s busy listening to Mark talk about how everyone on the goddamned grid is his rival.

“Would you like to dance?” Charles’ voice is back in his ear, and Oscar nods, before he can even think about it. The smile that spreads across Charles’ face is delighted, and he takes Oscar by the hand, drags him to the dance floor, into the mass of writhing bodies.

It’s probably a mistake.

From the dance floor, he can’t look away, once he’s seen Lando in the DJ booth, illuminated by the bright lights. He’s got an over-large pair of headphones over his head, black button up that’s open to reveal a triangle of chest hair, and a pair of dark jeans, and his head’s bobbing to the music, bright smile breaking over his features. He’s just about as in his element here as he is in a Formula 1 car, and Oscar can’t help the way his stomach swoops at the revelation.

“He is good, no?” Charles yells into his ear, and Oscar just nods. Lets himself be taken away by the thrumming music, and the way it feels under his skin, follows Charles’ lead, the rhythmic sway of his hips. It feels almost heavenly, sharp edges of the world blurred by alcohol and music.

He doesn’t know how long he’s on the dance floor for, until there’s a pair of hands settling on his hips, someone’s pelvis pressing firmly against the curve of his ass. Tilts his head back with a soft sound, leans his head on the offered shoulder, realizing with a start that it’s Lando. The music’s changed to something a little slower, sexier, and the look on Lando’s face is self-satisfied, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. “Didn’t think you’d show up tonight, kid,” his voice is warm in Oscar’s ear, and Oscar can’t help the way he shivers in Lando’s arms as he keeps dancing. Glances over at Charles, who has a knowing look in his eyes, slipping away before Oscar can tell him to stay.

“Don’t call me that,” it’s hard to keep his voice from shaking when Lando’s fingers dig in, possessive, as his hips sway, pressed up against Lando’s. “‘M not a kid anymore,” and he feels the shudder of Lando’s laugh more than he hears it. “Younger than me, sweetheart,” his tone’s self-assured, and Oscar has half a mind to be petulant about it. Twists in Lando’s arms so their face to face. Doesn’t allow himself to think of the implications of it, of the way Lando’s thigh nudges between both of his legs, and Oscar’s practically grinding against it.

“Just a fuckin’ number,” Oscar’s tone is bratty now, and Lando raises a brow. And quite honestly, fuck Mark Webber’s warnings. Lando might be his biggest rival, but Oscar’s pretty sure Lando’s also his biggest crush.

He closes his eyes, surges forward before he can overthink it, presses his lips to Lando’s gently, pulls away before Lando even has a chance to reciprocate. “Fuck, sorry,” the words fly from Oscar’s mouth before he can stop them, but Lando’s just rolling his eyes, moving one big hand from where it’s wrapped around Oscar’s waist to the nape of his neck, tangling his fingers in messy blonde strands. “Don’t bloody apologize,” is all Lando says, before leaning in to kiss him again, open mouthed and hot, and all Oscar wants is more.

#landoscar #writing prompts #my writing #OKAY THIS WAS ACTUALLY FUN TBH #just took me a hot minute to get there #prompt games #vaguely #kind of like an au because this scene won't happen this way in the actual verse #hope you choke verse

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infuckingdestructible · 2 months ago

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It’s been a long time since I’ve been in here and even longer since I’ve used this page as a One Direction fan account but the 16 year old me found therapy in writing here and screaming into the void so I figured 26 year old me might find it cathartic too.

Mourning someone you admired and loved so much as a girl while being a woman and acknowledging the terrible things he did while alive is such a hard thing to navigate. I feel so angry that the victims will never feel justice but so sad that this beloved singer, father, son, and brother has so tragically passed away.

I sit here at 26 thinking of the last times I really paid attention to One Direction. I was 17 when Zayn left. I was 18 when the band broke up for good. Both had me devastated, knowing these were such pivotal moments. Now I sit on my bed in my apartment with my partner of five years crying while he rubs my back, trying to explain the complex emotions I’m feeling. Because how can you really describe the feeling of a part of your youth, your transformative years, your girlhood being shattered?

I was just a girl when I last listened to them. I remember so fondly so many memories of jamming out to them with my middle and high school best friend. I think about how my old high school friend went to their concert and called me so that I could listen to them singing live because she knew how much it would mean to me. I think about how when I met my closest friend we were able to form such a fast friendship over Niall being our favorite. I think about how I would set alarms on music video release days just to wake up early and watch them as soon as they dropped. I think about how I would beg my dad to let me buy their albums on iTunes so I could download them on my iPod to listen to in my bedroom. I remember learning that Zayn left and feeling devastated. I remember the infamous beef on twitter. I remember the break up. I remember slowly phasing out of that interest and moving on. And every now and then I’d hear What Makes You Beautiful and remembering all these wonderful memories.

I also remember the feelings I had learning about the allegations, about the stories women would tell and feeling so angry that this person I looked up to becoming a monster. I think about how I was just telling someone at work the news as it was happening just a few weeks ago.

And I don’t think I’ll ever forget the feeling of my partner texting me while I was at work that Liam had passed away and I don’t think he understood the absolute devastation I felt in that moment. I felt like I was my 17 year old self learning new news about one direction all over again, feeling absolutely beside myself, mourning a person who meant so much to me in my most formative years. God. I feel sick to my stomach.

I wanted accountability, not tragedy. It shouldn’t have ended like this and I’m so sorry that it did. May his family find peace in this time. May his son be okay. May his girlfriend have support around her. May his victims not feel guilt or responsibility. And may the four boys grieve how they need to, in private and away from fans.

To my 15-18 year old self, mourn however you feel is right and to my 26 year old self, be kind to her with how she chooses.

May all other women around the world find comfort knowing that we’re mourning together. I know I have.

This is all so dramatic but I don’t know how else to express feelings regarding this. Fuck.

#mine #thoughts #one direction #liam payne

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 1 year ago

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Angel of God, My Guardian Dear Chapter 20: Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI)

Story Summary: While speaking at a local school for visually impaired youth, Matt runs into his childhood best friend, with whom he lost touch almost 20 years prior.

Warning/Tags: Smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, bit of breeding kink in this chapter

Word Count: ~ 3k for this chapter

A/N: Well, we've finally reached the end! Thank you to everyone who has read and liked/commented on this story -- I appreciate each and every one of you!

I'm definitely planning on continuing with The St. Agnes Years, plus I'm in the process of writing 3 one-shot sequels, so stay tuned for those!

"Let's give one more round of applause for the new Mr. & Mrs. Murdock!" The deejay said as Matt and Y/N made their way through the tunnel of well-wishers to the limousine that was waiting to whisk them away towards their new life as husband and wife.

Man, I'm glad I thought about bringing a going-away dress, Y/N thought. As beautiful and comfortable as her wedding dress was, she was happy to have had the thought of having something to change into before she and Matt had left their reception.

Matt motioned for Y/N to get into the limo first, then slid in after her.

As soon as the door was shut, Y/N pulled Matt in for a kiss. "I'm so happy to finally have gotten to marry you."

Matt let out a happy hum against her lips. "Mmm, me too, and it only took about 15 years later than I originally had hoped.”

Y/N laughed. “Hey, better late than never though, right, husband ?”

Matt chuckled. “Right you are, wife .”

Y/N turned towards the darkened window as the limo pulled out of the church parking lot and turned in the opposite direction of Matt's -- our , she silently corrected herself -- apartment. "Hey, wait, we're going the wrong way."

"Oh no, sorry angel, I forgot to tell you," Matt replied as he shrugged his tux jacket off and loosened his tie. "I got us a place for tonight so we wouldn't have to spend our wedding night at the apartment."

Y/N cuddled into Matt's side, feeling slightly guilty. "Oh, okay. That was sweet of you, Matty, thank you.”

As much as they had tried, she and Matt had been unable to find the perfect affordable home that would suit all of their needs, so about a month before the wedding they had agreed that Y/N would just move into Matt's apartment after they were married and that they would keep looking. She knew that as much as she had tried to hide it Matt could still sense her disappointment, so she figured he had booked a room at a hotel in order to try to make their wedding night special.

Matt wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You're welcome, angel."

The car weaved through traffic, and after a few minutes it pulled to a stop.

Matt grabbed his tux jacket then opened the door and stepped out before offering a hand to Y/N.

Y/N took his hand and slid out of the limo.

Her brow furrowed as she realized that they were standing not in front of a hotel, but in front of the townhouse that Y/N had fallen in love with back when they had first started looking for a bigger place.

As the limo drove off, she turned towards Matt, who had a wide grin on his face. "Wait a minute, what are we doing here?"

Matt pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. "Welcome home, Mrs. Murdock."

"Welcome home? Wha--" Y/N sucked in a breath. "Matthew Michael Murdock, you did not."

Matt chuckled and nodded. “I did.”

"How ? How could you possibly have afforded this?"

Matt shook his head, a bright grin on his handsome face. "You remember the money my dad had left me when I was a kid?"

Y/N nodded. Matt had confided in her when they were kids that since the odds were so stacked against his dad during Jack's final fight with Victor Creel that he had wound up inheriting well over a million dollars. "Well yeah, but I figured that money was long gone. I know some of it was used to pay for your eye doctor visits as well as your training with Stick, and on top of that law school sure isn't cheap, nor is a penthouse apartment in Hell's Kitchen."

Matt shook his head. "Actually, even with my medical bills and what St. Agnes paid Stick for my training I had plenty left over for college, but since I wound up getting a full scholarship to Columbia I didn't actually wind up using any of it for school. Then I got a really great deal on my old apartment because of the neon billboard outside of the living room window, so most of the money has actually been sitting in the bank collecting interest for the past 28 years. I figured why not finally spend it by surprising my wife with our dream home as a wedding gift?"

Y/N shook her head. "But we weren't even engaged at the time."

Matt shrugged, a small smile on his face. "Yeah, but I was already planning on proposing on our Friendiversary and knew you were gonna say yes."

Y/N laughed. "Oh you did now, huh?"

"Mmhmm. Or at least, I was sure enough to spend most of my life's savings.” Matt nuzzled her nose with his. “As soon as you were headed back to your apartment after we toured this place and knew for sure that it was our dream home, I went back in and made an offer the previous owners couldn't refuse."

“No wonder it went so quickly!” Y/N playfully swatted him on the arm . "I can't believe you kept this from me for months , Matthew. What happened to 'no secrets between best friends', huh Murdock?"

Matt grinned and shook his head. "I figured you wouldn't mind me keeping this one secret from you for a while, although I did almost give up the surprise several times because I hated knowing how upset and stressed out you were about us not being able to find a place that we liked nearly as much as this one."

"I'm sorry, angel," he had said when Y/N had looked up the listing for the townhouse a few weeks after they had toured it and discovered that it had sold almost immediately. "I know how much we both loved that place."

"It's fine," Y/N had replied, the words sounding flat even to her ears. "No matter how much we loved it and how perfect it was for us it's not like we could ever have afforded the mortgage, even with both our salaries. We'll find something, I'm sure of it. We'll just have to keep looking for something within our budget."

Matt had wrapped his arms around her and given her a gentle kiss. “It'll be okay, angel, I promise. I just want you to be happy.”

Y/N's eyes filled with tears as the selflessness and love behind Matt's gesture fully hit her. "So this is really ours?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, angel. It's really ours. Right now it's in my name only, obviously, but I drew up a new deed this morning to make us officially co-owners on paper. We'll just have to wait for our signed marriage license to get filed on Monday before we can get Foggy to notarize and file the new deed for us."

Y/N wrapped her arms around Matt and gave him a kiss. "I love you so damn much, you know that, right?"

Matt wiped the tears from her eyes. "I love you too."

Y/N looked up at their new home once again. "So can we go in?"

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, angel, of course."

They headed up the stairs to the entrance.

Y/N let out a giggle as Matt unlocked and opened the door then scooped her up in a bridal carry.

She gave him a kiss. "Love you, Mr. Murdock."

"And I love you, Mrs. Murdock," Matt replied, carrying her over the threshold before setting her down.

As they walked through their new home, Y/N was surprised to see Matt's dining set, sofa and coffee table in their respective areas as well as the boxes of belongings that she had moved over to Matt's earlier in the week. "Wait, when and how did all of our stuff get in here?" she asked as they walked up the stairs to the living room.

"This morning after Karen dropped your suitcase off at my place," Matt replied, draping his tux jacket over the back of the couch and taking his glasses off. "Foggy helped me pack my stuff up yesterday and I hired movers to actually move everything."

“What's going to happen with your apartment? Are you going to lease it out?”

Matt shook his head. “I sold it to the current owner of my building a couple of months ago with the stipulation that he let me lease it back until after the wedding.”

He gestured around the mostly-empty space. "I know we'll have to do a lot of furniture shopping when we get back from our honeymoon, but I wanted us to be able to spend our first night as husband and wife in the home that we'll share for the rest of our lives, so I figured bare minimum was better than nothing."

Y/N gave Matt a tender kiss. "Matty, sweetheart, this is perfect . Thank you so much.”

Matt chuckled. “I was so nervous that you’d find a place that would work for us and that you'd like better than here.”

Y/N shook her head. “Despite all of the apartments and condos we toured, this was honestly the only place I could see us building a life together in.”

She trailed a finger down Matt's torso, stopping just above the waistband of his pants. “And speaking of building a life together, since we actually did find our dream home I guess that means I'm going off of my birth control now, doesn't it?”

A grin spread across Matt's face. “Does that mean we can try for a honeymoon baby?”

Y/N huffed out a laugh as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Even if I stop taking my pill today I don't think it would happen that quick, but that doesn't mean we can't start working on it.”

Matt hummed, a slight smirk blooming across his plush lips. “In that case, lead the way, Mrs. Murdock.”

Y/N took Matt's hand and led him upstairs to their bedroom.

As soon as they entered Matt wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back to his front. "Thought about this while we were touring this place, angel," he murmured into her ear. “Making love to you here in our bedroom… and all of the other rooms in the home that we'll share for the rest of our lives."

Y/N hissed in a breath as Matt began trailing kisses down her jawline to her neck. "I did too, Matty. Imagined you fucking me up against the shower wall, getting down on my hands and knees for you on the couch in the garden room…"

Her breath hitched as Matt gave a gentle nip to her throat. “...Riding your cock in the library.”

Matt growled deep in his chest, his already-hard cock twitching against Y/N’s ass. “Shit, yes, angel, can't wait to get to do all of that with you.”

He nipped at her throat again as he unzipped her dress. “But first, I want to take my beautiful bride to bed.”

Y//N shivered as Matt slid the straps of her dress off of her shoulders, the smooth silk pooling at her feet.

She stepped out of the dress, then turned and gave Matt a gentle kiss as she unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants. “Then take me, my handsome groom.”

Matt smirked as he slid his hands down to her ass. “Oh I definitely plan on taking you, angel, over… and over… and over again.”

Arousal flooded Y/N’s system. She gasped in surprise as Matt picked her up and carried her over to the bed, gently setting her down before quickly divesting himself of the rest of his clothing and climbing in after her.

She let out a moan as Matt settled himself between her legs and nosed at her silk-covered core.

“Mmm, so needy,” Matt purred. “Practically dripping for me already, aren't you, sweetheart?”

Y/N nodded, her mind already hazy with lust. “Uh huh. Want you, Matty.”

Matt groaned. “Want you too, angel.”

Y/N whimpered as Matt pulled her underwear to the side and licked a broad stripe up her folds.

He slowly dragged his tongue up her folds again, swirling his tongue around her clit as he worked two fingers inside of her.

Y/N’s back arched off the bed in pleasure. The only thing better than the feel of Matt's long, thick fingers stretching her out was his long, thick cock. “Fuck, Matt.”

Matt moaned against her as he began to fuck her with his fingers. “That's right, angel, don't hold back. Make those beautiful sounds for me, let me know how good I'm making you feel.”

Y/N cried out as Matt hit a spot inside her that made her see stars. “Yes, right there --”

“That's my good girl,” Matt crooned. “I got you, angel, let go for me.”

Y/N could feel the coil of an oncoming orgasm tightening in her stomach. “Matty, Matty yes, please, don't stop -- ahh!”

She gasped as she reached her peak, legs shaking as Matt worked her through it.

Matt gently withdrew his fingers before raising them to his mouth, his eyes closing in bliss as he sucked them clean. “Mmm.”

He slowly peeled Y/N’s underwear off of her. “You make the prettiest sounds for me, Y/N. Love to hear you.”

Y/N sat up and pulled Matt to her for a kiss. “Need your cock in me, Matty,” she whispered against his lips. “Want you to fill me up.”

Matt nodded as he took himself in hand, sliding his cock through Y/N’s folds a few times before guiding himself to her entrance. “Gotta start slow, angel, don't want to hurt you.”

Y/N sucked in a breath as Matt joined their bodies together, the snug fit of his cock inside her tight channel making her involuntarily clench around him.

Matt groaned as he waited for her to adjust. “Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good, so perfect. Love you so much, my angel, my beloved, my wife.”

Y/N let out a soft gasp as Matt slowly drew himself out and pushed back in, the slow, lazy rhythm of his cock sliding in and out of her fueling her desire for him. “I love you too, Matty, my husband, my forever.”

She slowly raked her nails down Matt's back. “Can't wait to grow our family with you here in our home, sweetheart, raise our children here together.”

Matt’s hips stuttered slightly. " Shit, yeah, gonna fuck a baby into you as soon as possible, angel, make you come on my cock over and over, taking every single drop of my seed deep inside your needy cunt until I'm absolutely certain I've gotten you pregnant."

Y/N gasped loudly as Matt adjusted his angle, his cock reaching even deeper inside her. "Yes, want that so badly, sweetheart."

Matt slid a hand over her stomach, his cock pulsing against her walls. "God, Y/N, you're gonna be even more beautiful than you already are when you're round and full with my child, with our child. Can't wait to hear and feel the life we'll create together growing inside you."

Y/N whimpered. She could picture Matt gently kissing and caressing her growing stomach as he talked to their unborn child. “Please, Matt. Want to have a baby with you.”

Matt began to rub tight circles against her clit with his thumb as he drove into her. "Don't worry, angel, I gotcha, gonna make sure I come nice and deep in you so your cunt has no choice but to take it all."

Y/N gasped, right on the edge of ecstacy and just needing one little push to send her over. "Fuck, Matty, I'm right there baby, please don't stop."

Matt growled deep in his chest. “That's right, sweetheart, be a good wife and come for me.”

He dropped his voice into his Daredevil tone. "You're mine forever, aren't you, Mrs. Murdock ?"

"Oh fuck, yes, yours , Matt, always --" Y/N cried out as the coil inside her snapped.

Matt slammed into her twice more before finding his own release, his cock pumping his seed deep inside her throbbing cunt. "Shit, Y/N ."

Y/N wrapped her arms around him and hummed in bliss as she began to descend from her sex-induced high. “Mmm.”

She shivered as Matt stroked a hand through her hair then down her arm to her side.

Matt gave her a tender kiss before carefully pulling out of her.

He lay on his side and reached for Y/N, caressing her cheek with one hand while wrapping the other around her waist. “I'm so happy I get to spend the rest of my life with you, angel.”

Y/N snuggled up to him and hummed as Matt began lightly tracing his hands up and down her back. “I am too, Matty.”

She was silent for a few moments. “You know, you always thought I was your guardian angel, but actually I think it was the other way around.”

Matt's hands paused as he tilted his face down towards her. “Really?

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I mean think about it. You were literally the answer to my prayers, Matty.”

Matt chuckled. “Ironic that I grew up to become a vigilante known as ‘The Devil of Hell's Kitchen’ then.”

Y/N huffed out a laugh. “In that case I guess you were actually my ‘guardian devil’, but the sentiment still stands. I am who I am because of you.”

She gave Matt a kiss. “Now, how about we keep practicing making our own little devil?”

Matt rolled onto his back, guiding Y/N to lay on top of him. “That sounds like a great idea, angel. After all, you know what they say -- practice makes perfect.”

#lotmf writes #AoG Masterlist #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader

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rogueshadeaux · 4 months ago

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Chapter Thirty-Eight — Prognosis

4.5 k words | 15-20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Hospital, procedures, medical events

⚠️AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another chapter, another friend! How could I not let the world's best doctor be a part of this tale, especially when the RowlandRoweWhatever family needs someone with a special set of skills they can't get at just any ol' hospital? Thank you @infamoussparks for letting me steal your girl and show off her brilliant skillset, the inaugural first outreach towards the people who make this fandom fantastic.

I sat up as the patient couch pulled out of the scan machine, pulling the earplugs out of my ears and opening my jaws to force a pop.

Dad had nearly blown a gasket when Dr. Sims explained what they wanted to do on Monday—or, moreso, how they wanted to do the imaging for it. A dose of diluted raythium with a dye in it for tracing the conducrine and every protein it produced in the time I was in there. “You want to put that stuff in my daughter?” Dad demanded, “A day after we just figured out how dangerous this shit is?”

Dr. Sims did his best to try and placate Dad’s worry, telling him it wasn’t the same. “It’s at least not gonna cause anything bad,” he assured him, “But it’s the only way to activate the proteins in her to observe them,”

Dad eventually relented, letting Dr. Sims whisk me away as he stayed back with Brent; he wasn’t allowed in the radiology department while I was getting an MRI just in case the magnet became too attracted to his steel.

“You did great, Jean,” Aunt Sia assured me with a low voice as I slipped off of the patient couch, Dr. Sims wheeling in a wheelchair. They wouldn’t let me walk, and I hated it—I wasn’t crippled, just broken.

Didn’t matter—either way, I was pushed through the hall like some spectacle.

Dad pushed off from his place leaned against the wall when the door to the exam room opened, rushing to meet me as Aunt Sia wheeled me in. He glanced down at me, smile stressed and forced, before looking up at Dr. Sims. “Get what you need?” he asked.

Dr. Sims nodded, taking the chair back from Aunt Sia. “Yeah. I’ll be back with the specialist in a bit.”

And there we were, caught in another waiting lull.

I think those were the worst parts of it all; the waiting. That silence that left way too much time for the thoughts to get louder. Sitting on the stiff examination bed in a hospital gown felt more suffocating than a noose, the center of a horrible sort of attention. It didn’t help that they all had quickly shifted back to treating me like broken glass; Brent was silent and blankly watching me, seeming to examine every move, Dad was still acting as if I’d drop dead any second, and Aunt Sia insisted on coming. Said she wanted to support me. And I mean, sure, I was thankful that they cared…but it was suffocating. Demeaning. Even if that’s not how they meant it, it’s how it felt.

There was a swift knock on the door, and Dad didn’t even finish saying something about coming in before the door opened—and the sharp click of heels against the hickory floor.

The person that walked in most definitely wasn’t Dr. Sims. Her red hair was more natural auburn than Aunt Sia’s bright red, shoved away in a messy bun that somehow looked like it took twenty minutes to set. There was one fancy silver pen sticking out of it and that somehow looked deliberate too. If someone asked me to picture a ‘confident scholar,’ it’d probably be someone like her; white blouse, black pants, eyeliner that looked sharp enough to prick my finger for a blood sample. The lab coat swayed behind her as she walked confidently into the room, Dr. Sims closing the door.

But her smile was warm and welcoming as she looked over the room, greeting, “Hello!” She regarded me first, smiling, “I’m Dr. Hutch—you must be Jean.”

I smiled back sheepishly as Dr. Hutch’s eyes moved to Dad, something in them registering. “You must be Mr…Rowland? Rowe?”

Dad chuffed, “I’m not even sure, at this rate,”

Dr. Hutch accepted his admittance with grace, offering a hand to shake. Dr. Sims turned just as Dad stood, eyes widening when he moved to share the doctor’s hand—and with a shimmering sound and a flash of blue, he was across the room in an instant, gripping Dad’s wrist and yanking it upwards away from Dr. Hutch.

“You don’t wanna do that, D,” Dr. Sims warned, looking at Dad knowingly. The realization struck me almost immediately.

She was a Conduit.

Brent seemed to come to the same conclusion, eyebrows shooting up as he glanced at me. “Right, sorry.” Dad said, letting his hand fall.

Dr. Hutch smiled, “I’ll go with Rowe, then,” she said simply, her own going to rest on her hip. She looked between Dad and I, getting right down to business. “I’m a certified genetic counselor, and I’m here to run one last diagnostic on Jean before we go over your test results—and what I found out from what you sent me,” she added, looking over her shoulder at Dr. Sims.

I looked her over; nice outfit, a lab coat, and…quite literally nothing else. She made no move to pull anything out of the pockets on her coat, either. Hadn’t we established there was nothing wrong with my DNA? Why was there a genetic counselor here? Dad seemed to think the same, because he asked, “What sort of diagnostic?”

“I want to observe her health on the cellular level,” Dr. Hutch informed him. “It would give us a better idea of what could possibly be the problem here.”

“Do you—” I hesitated, not even sure how to ask what I wanted to ask. “Do you have to draw blood?”

Yeah, that’d have to do.

Dr. Hutch smiled gently, shaking her head once. “No. I’d just need about ten seconds of your time, and your hands.”

My brow furrowed; my hands? How was she going to examine me with those? Was she gonna palm read her way to my diagnosis? I glanced over at Dad, who looked intrigued more than confused. “Alright,” he said simply, giving consent for whatever procedure she had in mind.

Dr. Hutch nodded, beginning to roll up her sleeves before asking, “May I see your hands please, Jean?” I hesitated, looking at the cast on my right arm, and Dr. Hutch seemed to understand my concern, placating it with, “Don’t worry—just your fingers are fine.”

She brought her own hands out in a gentle show of faith, a soft coax of her fingers convincing me to lay mine in hers. Her manicured nails clicked gently against my cast as her hands closed over mine, and I could just barely hear her hum to herself as the seconds ticked by.

Dr. Hutch spent the first few of those ten seconds looking down at where our hands met, but once she passed five, she looked up, eyes trailing along my body as she began to look for something. It was there that I saw it; her eyes were this rich green with golden flecks around her pupil, but the longer the time passed, the brighter that yellow got.

She was using her power on me.

Her brow furrowed further as she went from looking at me to around me, like she was searching for something in the air. Her counting progressed further, past seven, and she began to stare at specific spots like she was deciphering hieroglyphics, trying to understand something more than any of us could fathom.

“...ten.” She breathed. She glanced over at Dr. Sims and shook her head before letting go of the hand in a cast to gently pat the back of my other one before setting it in my lap, moving away to stand by Dr. Sims once more.

Dr. Sims crossed his arms, looking down at the floor for a moment before saying, “Thank you, Dr. Hutch.”

Neither of them seemed happy.

I think everyone else caught on to the sudden shift in tone in the room as well; Aunt Sia moved a bit closer, and her hand came to my back, rubbing it gently. Dad moved two steps to close the gap between us to put his hand on my knee, and Brent’s brow furrowed as he watched them both move.

Dr. Hutch sighed hard before looking up at Dad. “I’d like to clarify, before we begin, that my power is magnification,” Dr. Hutch began. “I can essentially narrow in on the gene structure of any person and pick apart their DNA sequence just by ten seconds of contact, much like how an electron microscope functions when examining a blood sample. I prefer hand holding as it’s comforting and easy to mask with extended handshakes for those I simply have a hunch about. As I build up to ten seconds I can see the DNA sequence clearer and with that I can determine if anything is out of place or exists when it maybe shouldn’t. I’ve yet to find an instance where I’ve been wrong.”

Jeez, with a power like that, I don’t understand why we didn’t come here to begin with.

“So you’re sure you know what’s wrong with Jean?” Brent asked, looking at Dr. Hutch.

“We had results before bringing in Dr. Hutch, however, she’s the best second opinion you could ask for. I wanted to make sure.” Dr. Sims said. He inhaled deep, looking like he was biting down on his cheek so roughly he was going to chew a hole straight through it. He looked between Dad and I, cutting right to the chase: “I’m diagnosing Jean with conducrinopathy.”

Dad’s grip on my knee tightened and his jaw tensed, and I swear to god he looked like he was about to start breaking down walls. “What’s…” I glanced at Dad before looking back at Dr. Sims. “What’s condu…that?”

Dr. Hutch took over the explanation, beginning with, “Well, your conducrine—between your shoulder blades, right about where she’s touching right now—is what gives you power. It produces rayacitins, the proteins that change this energy into your elemental conduvergence.”

Conduvergence—that was what they called the powers, right? Using a power was conduvergence. “Okay,” I hummed, nodding. But I didn’t understand; what did this have to do with what was wrong with me?

“A typical Conduit has a set amount of rayacitin proteins in their body, and when they’re running low, that causes that pain you feel in your shoulders.” Dr. Hutch continued, trying her best to dumb this down for me. “They’re also what influences other cells to heal faster. Less proteins, less power, slower healing. More, the opposite.”

Oh, okay. “So is my condushine—”

“Conducrine.” Dr. Sims interrupted.

“Conducrine,” I corrected, looking back at Dr. Hutch. “Is it just not making enough proteins?”

She looked to Dr. Sims, who sat on my question for a moment. “Sort of.” he agreed hesitantly, head bouncing side to side gently like he was considering which way to go with his explanation. “Conducrinopathy is when the conducrine itself begins to dysfunction. Its protein output wanes, you’re correct. That’s probably the cause of your pain, currently. But it…I suppose the best way to understand exactly what happens is to consider it…a sort of organ failure.”

All my breath left in one huff, and it felt impossible to breathe in more. “What?” I whispered.

“Your conducrine is in a manageable state right now,” Dr. Hutch interrupted. “But as the disease progresses, it will begin to produce corrupted proteins. Your power will…will turn on you.”

“Wait, like the old forced Conduits?” Brent cut in. He looked furious, but his anger wasn’t aimed at Dr. Hutch and Dr. Sims with his question.

Dr. Sims nodded. “That’s the main instance we’ve seen conducrinopathy, yes. The conducrine is due to turn on a Conduit if it is forced to copy artificial proteins. It’s like using the wrong blood type in a transfusion. But it has happened to two Prime Conduits. A patient here, and—”

“Mom.” I looked at Dad. “That’s what happened, isn’t it? When she started looking gray a-and sick in the pictures. Her power was killing her.”

“We can’t assume that it was killing her,” Dr. Sims interrupted as Dad’s eyes fell and he stared at the floor, face void of any emotion. “But if we had to compare how she was to the data we have now, then…yes, she more than likely had the same condition.”

My fingers went to mess with my cast, and I couldn’t think of anything to ask. What the hell was I supposed to say? Cool, doc, thanks for the Conduit cancer diagnosis! I felt on the verge of a panic attack.

Aunt Sia rubbed my shoulder like she was trying to ease the tension out of it, and that was enough to get me to regurgitate one of the thousands of thoughts running through my mind. “Can you cure it?” I asked, looking back at Dr. Sims and his partner with pleading eyes.

Dr. Hutch looked down at the ground as Dr. Sims appeared to try and swallow back bile. “We…there’s no known cure yet, though in your situation, this has only happened to one other prime whose progression of illness could be followed. There are noted differences between the symptoms in primes versus forced Conduits, but we’re…these are uncharted waters. We don’t know what to expect.”

“What are the differences?” Dad finally asked, voice robotic. “What can we expect?”

Dr. Sims looked like he wanted to do anything but answer Dad’s questions. Like he hated being the bearer of bad news. “The pain and tenderness between the shoulderblades is common. That will probably be the most persistent symptom. However the amount of healthy rayacitin proteins in her body will…they won’t be replaced by healthy ones. The damaged cells will spread further instead, and it’ll…her powers will start getting weaker. Maybe disappear entirely. The healing is usually the first to go.”

Dr. Sims looked at the ground and scuffed his shoe on the wood before adding, “We don’t know how her power will turn on her, either. That will change the status of her condition from manageable to severe more than anything else. And…between Fetch, and the other prime Conduit we’ve observed, decline is…faster in prime Conduits. The way a forced Conduit is already stunted in power is enough to delay it significantly more than a prime, especially when considering how much weaker they are.”

“And you’re sure it’s this?” He asked, looking between the doctors. His eyes settled on Dr. Hutch. “How can you be positive?”

Dr. Hutch was trying her best to keep her face neutral. “When using my powers, I can see this aural ring around people. I can tell if they have the gene, if they’re activated—your daughter has both signs. But there is also something wrong with the aura on her. It’s turning black. The only other times I’ve seen that is when I’ve run diagnostics for Dr. Sims upon his request.”

Dr. Sims shook off the discomfort of the moment, moving a step closer. “Delsin, I’m gonna be here every step of the way in case something happens,” he looked at me, “We’re going to make sure you’re, at minimum, comfortable.”

I hated how he phrased that. Comfortable? It didn’t sound like he was offering to just help me with pain, it sounded like there was more to the statement. A promise for there to be a comfortable end.

And I wasn’t a fool, I knew how this was going for all the old DUP agents; they were either all ill as could be, or slowly succumbing to their illness. His words sounded like he was offering me management if it came to that, too.

Fuck. Fuck. Tears immediately began to pool in my eyes and it was hard to keep them away. No cure, no help, no idea what was going to happen. But I needed to know one thing: “Am I gonna die?”

That was the wrong set of words to use; Brent immediately threw his hand back to hammer the side of it against the wall, the hit so hard plaster immediately caved under his fist. He pushed off and stalked away, brushing past Dr. Sims to the door and throwing it open, disappearing into the hall.

Dad sighed, head falling. “Sia, can you—”

“‘Course,” she said, patting my shoulder gently before leaving the room, heeled combat boots echoing loudly as she jogged to catch up to him.

The silence in the room truly was deafening, the air thick as the remaining four of us grappled with what just happened. Everything felt like it was slipping away; the color in the blue hospital gown I had on, the noise of the cars on the street outside. This was it. I really was broken.

And there was no way to fix it.

Dad squeezed my knee three times, and suddenly I was shot back to when I was a little girl trying to sit through the scariest moment of her life: vaccine day at the doctors. Me sitting at the end of an uncomfortable bed just like this, gripping the edge for dear life as Dad sat across from me, a hand on my knee. Three reassuring squeezes. I love you.

Took me far too long to realize he’d do it when the needle went in and I’d miss the scariest part of the whole event.

Now he was trying to reassure me yet again, forcing a deep breath into his chest as he lifted his head, looking at Dr. Sims. “This didn’t start happening to Jean till that fight with Augustine,” he began. “Conducrinopathy doesn’t happen to just anyone. Something caused this.”

Dr. Sims sighed. “Delsin, her powers just manifested. We truly don’t know if this can be an inheritable condition or not.”

“Well,” Dr. Hutch held up a finger. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that yet, either.”

Both Dad and Dr. Sims shot her a confused look. Dr. Hutch didn’t bother waiting for one of them to interrogate her, instead digging into the pocket of her lab coat and pulling out three blood collection tubes full of anything but blood. “I analyzed the two samples you sent, Eugene. And your friend downstairs passed a third to me earlier this morning.”

Dad immediately bristled. “We don’t have another friend here,” he said, guarded.

Dr. Hutch cocked her head to the side, concern on her face. “You don’t?”

“What did they look like?” Dr. Sims interrupted. Dad’s hand tensed on my knee.

“Short, wide set. Wore sunglasses inside for some reason which I’m…” she drew off. “Now I’m worried was to disguise himself.”

I knew someone that matched that description exactly, but it wasn’t someone with a hidden agenda. “That’s Zeke,” I forced myself to murmur. My voice didn’t sound like mine. It didn’t even feel like I was talking. Was this what dissociation felt like? Feeling like I was witnessing the room from outside the window to the right?

Dad scowled…but something in his expression shifted. “He brought you something to analyze?” He asked Dr. Hutch, surprised Zeke even cared.

“He did,” she confirmed, holding up a collection vial that had black liquid in it that turned iridescent with a deep green where light hit it. I knew that liquid—that’s what Zeke took from the First Sons’ base in New Marais. “Said he hoped it would help me find answers for Jean.”

Dr. Sims looked at Dad, who almost looked remorseful in a way before blinking a few times, inhaling. “And what did you find?” he asked.

“Well, from what I understand, these two samples were acquired in New Marais,” Dr. Hutch said, shifting the samples in her hands so she could hold a pair up to the light. “I examined their properties and their aural signatures, and they’re certainly interesting. To save you the technical terms, these two samples almost replicate poison in a way. This one—” she pointed to the black and dark green liquid, “—the poison itself while this contained the cells it was affecting. However instead of killing the cells, they seemed to mutate them. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Dad went on to tell Dr. Hutch what we saw when underground, and how we found files that suggested the creepy crawlies in the First Sons’ basement were Conduits turned creatures. She reacted with horror in the right parts of the tale, but her eyes were alight with a curiosity that she couldn’t hide well at all. “I didn’t know that was possible,” she said. “I knew there were instances of monsters in New Marais but never really followed up on why.”

“We were worried, with it corrupting Conduits, that it could be what happened to Jean,” Dad finished.

Dr. Hutch shook her head. “I don’t think that’s the case. Where these two are similar, the one from Salmon Bay is completely different.” She stored away the two vials in her lab coat and held the one full of tar to Dr. Sims, who took it without hesitation. “It matches the signature of every case of conducrinopathy I’ve seen—including Jean’s. It has the same…darkness to it, but at a strength that made it nearly impossible to read without feeling ill after.” She glanced between Dad and I. “It’s like it’s emitting something far more dangerous than a regular Conduit can handle.”

Dad stood, hand leaving my knee to step forward and take the vial from Dr. Sims’ outstretched hand. “So this tar is what caused Jean’s sickness?”

“She was injected with it, correct?” Dr. Hutch asked.

Dad motioned to my leg hanging over the edge of the bed. “Augustine’s concrete had this tar on it when she managed to pierce Jean’s leg,” he informed her.

The scarring and spider veins on my left leg hadn’t faded at all in the last week. The raised scars were still an angry red and brown, the veins alight like they were lightning with how bright the blue was against my legs. Dr. Sims took a few steps forward, motioning for me to bring my leg up and hooking his hand behind my calf so he could examine it closer. “I need to get this and the break checked on, next,” I could hear him mutter to himself like he was making a checklist.

Dr. Hutch joined Dr. Sims, looking at my injury from over his shoulder. “It looks like it attempted healing,” she observed.

“If you’re right, and that tar caused her sickness, could this be when the conducrinopathy started happening?” Dad asked, pointing to my scars. “They’re healed wrong because it was running out of time?”

Dr. Sims’ brow furrowed. “The results did come back abnormal,” he muttered. He turned my shin lightly and then looked up. “Knowing the tar is practically the same as the illness, I wouldn’t be surprised if so.”

Dad stared at my scarring for a long time, long enough for Dr. Hutch to clear her throat awkwardly and say, “I’m sorry for bringing bad news. If there’s anything I can do to help…”

Dr. Sims sighed. “We’ll be visiting palliative care later today for the patient, if you’d be willing to meet us there.”

“Of course.”

Dr. Hutch gave me a nod before turning on her heels and leaving the room, the sound of the door as it latched shut behind her feeling like a gavel strike of a death sentence. Dad, still staring at my leg, shook his head and brought a hand up to rub against his face. “Someone did this.” He said.

“Del—”

“If that tar matches what’s wrong with Jean, then Augustine caused this. I don’t know if it’s because she got a new power, or somehow fucked with her old one—”

“Delsin—”

“But her power caused organ failure.” Dad finished with a stressed voice, and I wasn’t sure if it was to talk over Dr. Sims or simply because he was stressed. “We need to find out how she got the ability.”

Dr. Sims shifted on his feet, thinking. “We can’t be sure that it’s not something that Augustine simply developed,” he warned.

Dad shook his head. “I don’t believe that. Archangel helped Augustine. They tried finishing what she couldn’t do! She had to have gotten this power from somewhere.”

“I understand that, but you have to realize—this is the first time we’ve seen a situation like this with its cause. The forced Conduits develop conducrinopathy naturally, and we don’t know how the other two instances of this happened in primes—“

“But we know it’s not normal.” Dad retorted. “What happened to Abbs? What’s happening to Jean? Shouldn’t be a thing.”

There were three sharp raps on the door and Aunt Sia returned, looking between Dad and Dr. Sims as the latter refused to let his gaze wander. “Archangel did something to make this happen, it was probably the plan the entire time—just for me. But this is some sort of power, right?”

“I’m not sure—“ Dr. Sims tried saying as Dad rambled on.

“—so we just need the power to fix it. Only way it’s coming out is the same way it went in.”

“Delsin, this isn’t like then. We don’t know where the power came from or if it’s something new at all.” Dr. Sims finally put enough power into his voice to interrupt. “This is the only time it’s happened like this. For all we know, with the old DUP soldiers? It could simply be because Augustine was involved.”

Dad opened his mouth to say something else when Aunt Sia cleared her throat loudly and pointedly, looking at Dad. “Delsin, I think you should go talk to Brent.”

Dad blinked. “But—“

“Just a small talk, then we’ll finish what we came here for.” Aunt Sia turned to Dr. Sims. “Is there anything else we need to do for Jean? She still has some stitches, do they need to be removed?”

Dr. Sims looked confused and yet thankful for the topic change. “Yeah I-I want to get a general check up on her, but we’d need a more qualified doctor.”

“Alright, then why don’t you go see who you can find while Delsin talks to Brent?” Aunt Sia asked the men, looking at them expectantly.

They muttered some sort of agreement as Aunt Sia herded around their attention, the two eventually leaving me alone in the room with her. She stepped up to the edge of the exam table I was sitting on, right between my legs, and moved to cup my face, her expression solemn. “Oh Jean,” she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

She pulled me into a hug and it was like everything snapped back to my center like a rubber band ball; I was no longer witnessing this from the outside, but fully trapped within the body betraying me, the ache in my back reminding me of the diagnosis. “I’m scared,” I admitted to her, voice cracking.

“I know,” she replied almost immediately. “This has to be so scary for you. But you heard how quick your father was to begin trying to think of solutions,” she pulled away to look at me. She was right: Dad was always the problem solver. I wasn’t sure if this was something he could fix, though. “We’ll take this a day at a time, but you won’t be alone.”

Want more of Dr. Hutch? Check out Feth’s inFAMOUS: Sparks!

Set 7 years after the good karma ending of inFAMOUS: Second Son, join friends new and old as they navigate what it really means to be a part of the Second Age.

A perfect blend of OC and OG, Feth knows all things inFAMOUS like the back of her hand—for good reason ;). I’m a sucker for a good after story, for the butterfly effect of every choice made in canon to change something in their future, and Feth captures that perfect (and realistic) after. Rosa is one of many amazing new friends the original trio make as they take on foes old and new.

#infamous second son #infamous #infamous erosion #infamous: sparks mention!!#ROSA POSTING #I grab the OC. i run. I refuse to give her back.#delsin rowe #jean posting #brent posting #Eugene Sims #Aunt Sia Posting still!!! FOREVER!!!#I stole her too #now that I’m thinking of it I took the red headed characters and literally no one else lmfao #Rosa. Sia. Cole too if you don’t think about it too hard #hehe gingers #anYWAYS I love you Feth thanks for letting me slot the perfect little lady in the perfect little spot #we will have to talk later for…other reasons… 👀

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ladymordecai · 1 year ago

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I have been reading DC comics fic again for the first time in like . . . a decade-ish? because I'm a masochist, apparently. Finding new stuff and reading old favorites and being reminded of canon and all my thinky thoughts about superheroes and specifically Tim Drake, because he's my Robin and I imprinted (much like he did).

canon has put that boy through the wringer in the last decade, including smushing like, all his tragedies from 15 years of comics into like, ten seconds of comics time. I was reminded of the storyline where his dad found out he was robin and threatened batman into making him give it up, which at the time pissed me off because it was both a clear illustration of what a terrible parent jack drake was (in a way the narrative itself didn't seem to get??), and also because everything about it was so obviously For The Plot.

There was like, nothing in that storyline that I remember that actually came from the characters. It read like the writer or editors or whatever TPTB* decided they wanted to write a story about robin's dad finding out about robin and making him stop**. it's an obvious story for the only robin at the time who wasn't an orphan, and one of few kid heroes whose parents didn't know about them, and also it was Batman and Robin! The Drama! it so clearly had nothing to do with TIM when he should've been the main character, and it made me so angry, and then that anger was compounded because TPTB used it as an excuse to screw over Steph and then make the only non-orphan robin into an orphan, i guess just because. I hated it then, I hate it now.

BUT

I have a lot more perspective now, and have read a lot more (both published work and fanfic), and I have had a thought that I cannot believe I didn't have back then and that I've never heard before anywhere. (which doesn't mean somebody else hasn't had it, i just haven't found it)

One of my core objections about the storyline is that Tim's dad didn't figure out his ID, he just found the Robin uniform in Tim's room. Which is so out of character that it should invalidate the entire storyline.

This is the kid who wore another mask under his mask to prevent his other superhero friends from SEEING HIS FACE--not knowing his ID, just seeing his face. The kid who kept his identity from goddamn ORACLE for a while there. The kid who was able to sneak out and photo-stalk BATMAN AND ROBIN for literal years as a preteen and never get caught. Nobody ever knew anything about Robin III unless Tim made a deliberate decision to reveal the information. This had been a cornerstone of his character for 20+ years. Robin III's secret identity was arguably second only to Oracle's in-universe.

Yet that entire story rested on the idea that Jack Drake, inattentive parent maybe-kinda-misguidedly-authoritarianly trying to connect with his son for the first time ever, snoops in Tim's room and finds proof that Tim is Robin?? AND that Bruce Wayne is Batman?!?? Tim, whose best friends still call him "Rob," left proof of his identity and Batman's somewhere his civilian father could find it??!??!

There is NO WAY THAT MAKES SENSE. There is no version of canon in which that makes sense.

Things that would make sense: Is that old poster of the Flying Graysons how you met the Waynes? or Hey So I Noticed You Have Three Half-Empty First Aid Kits, Talk To Me? or Dad! Did you read my freaking diary and find whatever normal-teenager angst I wrote as a cover and possibly also some real civvie-ID angst mixed in?! Not cool!

Somebody set that up.

That was a freaking supervillain plot.

There's like. No other explanation for what Tim's dad found. Either a supervillain figured out Tim's ID and took him off the playing board in the way most likely to disrupt as many other superheroes as possible, or a supervillain who didn't know Robin's ID mind-controlled him into revealing it for nefarious reasons.

So uh. I really don't want to get into writing DC fic, because I have shit to do that is not that, but SOMEBODY NEEDS TO TELL THAT STORY. Like, either all the characters involved don't contract plot stupidity and thus realize there's something hinky going on, or at some point after that in canon new evidence comes to light or an existing rogue says something suspicious or . . . there's just so many possibilities.

AND THEY'RE ALL MORE INTERESTING AND MORE IN-CHARACTER THAN CANON, DC!!!

(the creators involved in that storyline should feel very very lucky i don't remember who they are and am too lazy to look them up. because i would bring up how bad they are at storytelling every chance i got, forever)

--translations for fandom young'uns and some snark:

*TPTB: the powers that be, shorthand for the vast array of people in charge of multi-creator stories run by companies, such as tv shows, movies, and comics

**Buffy did it better

#tim drake #dc comics #meta #dc comics meta #fic bunny

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howtodrawyourdragon · 1 year ago

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Nonsense

@soulmateseptember

Summary: Written for Soultember 2023. Set before Httyd 1. A soulmate. Everyone has one, but not everyone is lucky enough to meet theirs. The only thing you have to lead you are your first spoken words. Despite growing up surrounded by a tightknit village, Hiccup feels alone. And as his First Spoken Words sound like nonsense to him, he fears his soulmate, too, will be as out of reach as the acceptance and love that he seeks from his father and his tribe.

Warning: /

Rating: General

Characters: Hiccup

Pairing: Hicctooth (platonic)

Words: 530

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: First Words

Author’s Notes: My only prompt written for Soultember 2023.

Enjoy! :)

XXX

Nonsense. The words sound like nonsense to him.

Ever since Hiccup figured out it were his soulmate’s first words to him that he could hear inside his head, he’s been trying to figure out what they’ve been saying.

Soulmates know they’ve found one another when the first words they speak directly to each other matches the ones they’ve been hearing in the backs of their minds for their entire lives. They’re literally referred to as; The First Spoken Words.

Unfortunately for Hiccup, he hasn’t been able to figure out what his mean. He’s tried to look into sagas, requested book after book from Trader Johann, talked with seafaring merchants that have come from far off places and dared to sail up to the Barbaric Archipelago despite the Dragon Scourge.

None of them have been able to tell him anything so far, not even the language he’s hearing.

In a bout of anger, he throws another book at the wall. It lands on his desk, causing some of his pencils and papers to fall to the ground. It makes quite a bit of noise in his quiet house, but he finds himself unable to care. He’s home alone, his dad has left on another quest to find the Dragon’s Nest.

Sitting on his bed, the 14-year-old, just shy of 15, pulls his blankets around himself. As if concealment will somehow hide him away from the world. As if it’ll somehow shield him from the apparent fact that he can’t even decipher his soulmate’s first words to him.

He doesn’t even know what language they’re spoken in. By now he knows English, French, Gaelic, Latin, bits and pieces of a few others… But none… none seem to match the things he’s been hearing for as long as he can remember.

The odd sounds that echo endlessly in his mind, begging to be solved. They’re just growls. Growls and what sounds like a screech. They make absolutely no sense to him. They sound so animalistic, he can’t hear a single word. He would almost think his soulmate a dragon if not for the fact that this was completely impossible.

Though how ironic would it be? The embarrassment of Berk’s soulmate, his soul’s life partner, can’t even be the right species. They can’t even be on the same side of a war that’s been going on for the past 300 years.

He feels so alone. In a tight knit village of only a little over a 100 people, there’s no where he truly belongs, no one who even wants to hold a normal conversation with him. Not unless it’s to talk about how he should change literally everything about himself before anyone would consider him worthy of “normal conversation.” No friends, his father is always as far away from him as he possibly can… In a place in which no one seems to want him, he thought he could at least have his soulmate with him.

Apparently, he thought wrong.

Still hiding away, wrapped in his blanket, he lies down. His heart aches as he’s plagued by his First Spoken Words, knowing he’s never going to find out who- or what- they belong to.

#soultember #soultember 2023 #soulmateseptember #httyd fics #httyd fanfics #httyd movies #httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup haddock #toothless #hicctooth #soulmates #first words #my fanfics #nonsense

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thedocs-in · 1 year ago

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Military School Pt.1

Sorry this took so long to get out, a self-indulgent Cecilxreader fic that I started to write took over my life for a couple on months. And then school started.

But I wrote this about two years ago, and I only meant for it to be shared with people on this Cecil server I was in. But, considering its gone now, I figured why not. And Cecil is supposed to be like, 14 or 15 in this.

This is part one of a three part story. The second part should be up possibly by the end of the week. Gotta make some edits to it first.

Plot: Cecil gets into a fight that nearly gets him expelled from high school, and almost gets sent to military school.

Link to Pt.2

TW: blood, injuries, and mentions of violence and sexual harassment (very briefly on that second one)

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Sitting there in an uncomfortable chair, Cecil leaned forward. His elbows resting on his knees and a bloody rag pressed against his nose. Though, given the fact that his shirt was already covered in his own blood, the rag was pretty much useless. Craning his neck, he looked at the senior who sat across from him. The senior he’s labeled ‘Jackass’ looked like shit, his shirt stained with blood. The skin around his nose and one of his eyes starting to turn purple.

The senior pressed a bloodied rag into his face, as his lip had been busted and his nose broken. Two of the seniors’ fingers were in a makeshift splint; and while he had heard something pop, he wasn’t sure if they were broken or just dislocated.

But it didn’t matter; he was still screwed regardless. Up until this point he had gotten away with getting into fights with assholes or bullies. Middle school kids were too embarrassed that they got their ass kicked. Sure, there were times when someone would snitch, and he’d get in trouble. But most of the time he’d get a warning or detention, considering the other kids never got hurt enough to warrant suspension, or worse, expulsion. But high schoolers were different, you fight back, hurt their ego, and they’ll find a way to make your life miserable; especially if they had been on top of the food chain.

But here he was, sitting outside the principal’s office contemplating everything that went wrong, how he let his temper get the better of him.

Craning his head up, he got a better look at the ‘jackass’ sitting across from him. And he was met with a glare that could melt steel. Lowering the rag, he checked his nose; thankful that the bleeding finally stopped.

He returned the dirty look to the senior, scrunching his nose in the process. Which only sent a wave of pain through his face, and he was convinced that it was broken. It wasn't the first time it's been broken, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But knowing his dad, a trip to the emergency room wasn’t likely, as his dad would rather just set it at home.

Looking at the floor, he stared at the ugly linoleum. He could see a few stray droplets of blood on the ugly brown linoleum, that was probably outdated when it was put down. And he wondered who had the bright idea to choose brown of all colors.

But his thoughts were interrupted when he heard a shouting match break out behind him. The door to his right muffled the voices, but he quickly straightened up when he heard his dad shouting.

The ‘Jackass’ spoke up, “Sounds like you’re in trouble you little shit.”

He looked at the senior and could see that he had a shit eating grin on his face. But he watched as the smug look turned to regret as blood started to run down his chin, and he moved the rag from his nose to his lip.

“I wouldn’t have kicked your sorry ass if you had just left my friend alone.” He spat back.

He leaned back in the chair and looked up to the stained ceiling, attempting to make sense of what was being said. All he could tell was that it didn’t sound good for him. Occasionally he could make out his dad insulting whoever else was in there.

The shouting quickly died down, and he heard a third voice talking, then footsteps.

On his right, a door quickly opened, and he turned his head to look. Standing in the doorway was short and portly man who looked both terrified and exhausted.

He sighs, “Both of you in my office, now!”

Forcing himself up from the chair, he reluctantly walked through the doorway. Quickly spotting his dad standing across from the ‘jackasses’ father.

His dad quickly looked at him, and ice filled his veins. He could see that his dad was not happy. Catching his eye for a moment, he quickly looked elsewhere as he walked into the office. While he was never scared of his father, for once he was nervous. The fact that this fight had gotten so out of hand made things look worse for him.

As soon as he was within grabbing distance, his dad pulled him close. Quietly seething at him through his teeth, “You are in so much trouble!”

What little color there was in his face left as he rarely saw his dad this angry.

The portly man walks around the room and sits down behind his desk. On top sat a little placard, ‘Principal Owens’.

With a sigh, the principal sat down. “Mr. Stedman, I’m afraid we have a serious situation on our hands here. I don’t take kindly to violence occurring on school grounds, especially when it leads to serious injury. And to be completely honest Mr. Stedman, this isn’t looking good for your son.”

He felt his chest tighten. And while he wanted to defend himself, he bit his tongue right as the ‘jackasses’ father started to yell.

“I want that little bastard expelled and arrested! Look at what he did to my son!” The man spat, gesturing to his son’s injuries.

Principal Owens cuts in with exasperation, “Mr. Lawson please, before any decision is made, I want Mr. Stedmans’ to explain himself.”

Now with everyone’s attention turned towards him, his mouth suddenly went dry, and he had no idea how to explain himself. Where to even begin, and if they would even believe him. Considering it was his word against ‘jackasses’ and his cronies. He had a few friends that could certainly vouch for him, but he didn’t want them involved in this mess.

He could feel his dad’s grip on his shoulder tighten, and in that moment, he was almost too terrified to even look towards his father. Taking a deep breath, knowing that even if he told the truth, he could still be screwed. “He’s been harassing my friend for days. And when I went to talk to him, to tell him to leave her alone, he took a swing at me. I didn’t start the fi-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Mr. Lawson lost his grip on his son for a moment as the senior attempted to lunge at him, calling him a liar. Thankfully, his dad quickly put himself in between the two teenagers, and Mr. Lawson pulled his son back.

Principal Owens stood up quickly and slammed his hands onto his desk, “That’s enough! I will not have any more fighting! Especially in my office.” Looking over to Mr. Lawson he said, “Control your son!”

He watched as the ‘jackass’ huffed in anger.

As soon as things started to calm down for a moment the principal looked at him, “Cecil, what do you mean he’s been harassing your friend?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, he began to explain things. “All of this started two weeks ago, when he started to harass my friend. He kept making all sorts of sexual comments towards her, or him and his friends kept harassing her after school. I went to go talk to him, to tell him to knock it off. But all he did was attack me. I didn’t go looking for a fight, but no one else was telling him to stop.”

As the words left his mouth, he could feel the tension growing in the room. But he noticed his dad’s grip loosen a bit.

The principal narrowed his eyes at him, as he leaned back into his chair. “And why didn’t you think to report this to the office? And why hasn’t she come forward?”

What anxiety he felt, was quickly replaced with anger, “I tried, and no one did anything! She tried, but no one would take her seriously. If you really don��t believe me, ask her. Ask the teacher that caught the ‘jackass’ messing with her yesterday.”

He still couldn’t remember his name, though at this point it wasn’t worth trying.

“Young man, I will not tolerate that language in my office or my school.” Owens said. “Which teacher are you talking about?”

He wracked his brain trying to remember who had caught the older student, but his memory was failing him. “I don’t know, I think it might’ve been the P.E. teacher. I wasn’t there, she just told me about all of this, this morning. She said it’s been happening after school for the past two weeks. She said that the teacher saw and stopped it but didn’t do anything else.”

Principal Owens sighed and rubbed his face. And for what felt like minutes, everyone was silent.

His dad cleared his throat, “Principal Owens, I’d like to know what you plan on doing? I agree that what my son did was wrong, but if what he’s saying is true, I hope ‘jacka-’, Mr. Lawson’s son is punished as well.”

Biting his tongue, he had to stop himself from laughing at his dad’s slip-up. Over the past couple of years, many of his teachers had complained about his colorful language. Resulting in a lot of parent teacher conferences, where they quickly learned where he got it from.

But before Principal Owens could respond Mr. Lawson interjected, “Are you kidding me? My son is the victim here, I want the little menace arrested.”

He felt his heart stop for a moment and his dad’s grip tighten again.

“Now hold on.” Principal Owens says. “Before the police get involved, I want to make sure that everyone is telling the truth.”

Mr. Lawson’s face was turning red, “I know for a fact that this isn’t the first time that little bastard has done something like this. Everyone knows he’s done this before.”

“Sir please calm down; I know all too well about Cecil’s previous incidents. I’ve seen his records, but his past incidents have never been like this. And I don’t think the police need to be involved yet.”

He internally breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that the cops wouldn’t be involved just yet.

Lawson opens his mouth to start again, but Owens stops him, “I think the best course of action, for now, would be suspension for both. I want to see if what Cecil say’s is true. If it ends up being a lie then your son can return to school immediately, if not, then he’ll have to serve out his suspension. And he will be put on academic probation when he returns.”

‘Jackass’ begins to whine, “What?! You can’t do that? I’m needed on the team. I need this to get into college.”

The older Stedman cuts in, “Kid, if you have to rely on to being a football player to get yourself into college, you probably shouldn’t be going. Besides if my son is lying then you have nothing to worry about.”

Both Lawson’s looked at his father, moving their anger from Principal Owens to the older Stedman.

Before either Lawson could say anything, Owens speaks. “Now Mr. Stedman, I cannot let Cecil off with just a warning, he did injure another student. If he’s telling the truth, he’ll have to serve out his suspension, and a few weeks of detention when he comes back. But if your son is lying, I will be forced to expel him.”

His father, now much more levelheaded, spoke. “I understand.”

“Now please, go home. I have an incident report to fill out.”

As he and his dad walked out of the principal’s office, his father spoke to him quietly, “We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

He nodded his head, “Yes sir.”

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wolfiemcwolferson · 2 years ago

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“I wanna get better”

Ok, this is more sad. Piarles. (I went cuckoo. sorry) CW for mental health stuff

Pierre in the midwest going to university while living at home - commuting 45 minutes to campus three days a week, driving to their research facility one day, and working on his dad's farm the other three.

Spending late nights when he can't sleep wandering through a pasture with a headlamp and his dog while he thinks about living on a coast - somewhere he can stand on a beach and feel small in a really different way - thinking about that time he was eight and his parents drove them all to the Californian coast and he knew what happiness was.

He goes to parties with his friends and he wants to feel something, but the girl he was dating for 2.5 years dumped him last year when he started anti-depressants because she couldn't get it and he can't get himself to ask out the girl in his physics class that has made it really clear that she likes him and he's like, trying really hard to make it work.

He starts his third year and his dad is asking him when he starts his practicum for his teacher's exam and Pierre doesn't know how to tell him he's been thinking about applying to grad school or that he's been seeing the therapist at university or that he's having those discount medical cards sent to his friends dorm room mailing address so he can pay cash for anti-depressants without his parents finding out, but he's making it, you know? He's making it.

And then he's sitting in the library right before his 21st birthday and he's got like 15 open tabs for colleges on the coast that offer master's degrees in biology and that's when Charles flops down in front of him, laughing and asking if he can sit with him. "Sorry if this is weird, but everywhere else is full and I just...really have to try and figure this shit out or I will fail this biology exam."

Pierre is entranced by him and obviously offers to help. Clears his throat a little and asks, "who's the professor?" and slides the textbook over to him, to highlight the important information, but he slides his computer away and Charles is laughing again. "Are you transferring to South Carolina?" before squinting. "Oh god, tell me I haven't managed to find the only other person from South Carolina?"

Pierre shakes his head. Explains he's thinking about going to grad school there and instead of him helping him with Biology, he's slowly being told about all the best places to hang out and all the spots that Charles loves and how he's really actually cold and miserable and he's been flirting with the idea that he will transfer and finally Pierre is like, "I'm so sorry, but I have to go to class, but I will help you with this. Give me your number and we can set something up." And Charles is so shameless like "God, I didn't even have to work to get you to ask me for my number." and obviously Pierre can't take it back, just blushes and laughs it off, but god. It sits heavy in his heart.

He sees Charles two days later and helps him with his biology, but he also looks at his dimples and watches the way he drags his vowels and he waits and waits and waits while he tells long and rambly stories that don't mean anything. And so when he says into the abyss of his car on his drive home that night, "I think I might be gay" and it doesn't scare him the way he thinks it will, he texts Charles and asks if he wants to go grab lunch with him - no biology homework this time.

It's a very fast and mad descent into being in love for the first time.

Pierre is so incredibly busy, but he's lying to his parents about school work and he's driving into town to spend whole days in Charles' dorm room, licking up his neck and explaining biology homework to him in great detail and learning about himself and about Charles in return and it's a bit like standing in the ocean again for the first time.

Charles understands loss and he understands that Pierre feels like he's trapped in a box and he makes him laugh and he makes him feel like he's on top of the world and they're sneaking around and it's everything young love should be.

Charles tells him he's staying for May-mester too because there's this class he needs and it's only offered in the summer and so Pierre knows they have four months together and he plans on making every single day count.

It's just that...he maybe gets so wrapped up in Charles, in thinking this was the thing missing from his life that he stops...filling his prescription and he...goes a bit wobbly in May.

Charles has class four days a week and Pierre doesn't have class at all and his dad finds out that he's been seeing someone from school and he kind of goes to the dark place and I think they have a really nasty fight the last week of May and Pierre accuses Charles of not giving him enough time and Charles is like, I can't go anywhere with you I can't go home I can't go to restaurants I can't do anything so how?

He goes to see Charles the night before his flight back to SC and Charles says, "I love you, but I think you need to...figure some stuff out."

And Pierre is...still at home. Watching Charles have the summer of his life in South Carolina before Charles posts a really vague thing at the beginning of August about being home and then he calls that night - for the first time all summer and Pierre gets really excited. Thinks he's coming back.

"I'm transferring, Pierre." Charles tells him quietly. "I just...I need to get my shit together. I was barely going to class last semester and I just...I can't be the only thing you have in your life. It's not good for either of us."

Pierre has half a dozen half finished applications and two letters of recommendation and an expired anti-depressant prescription and he decides that he can't do this. He can't be the person who has half a life because he's scared or can't get his shit together.

The next year is really really hard and it goes something like this: He tells his parents about the anti-depressants and he comes out and he tells them he wants to go to grad school and his dad is furious, but his mom holds him and cries and helps him make a list of what he needs to do. He applies to six grad programs. He takes his anti-depressants everyday and he goes to therapy and he tries really hard. He graduates with two acceptances and he has a text from Charles congratulations on graduating and it's the first contact they've had in months since Pierre unfollowed him on Instagram and it doesn't feel like it's going to kill him and he texts him back and thanks him and tells him he hopes he's happy. Charles reads it but doesn't respond. Pierre goes on a couple of dates with a guy he met online that summer, but he tells him he's going to grad school in the fall and so they remain friends and that's really it.

The fic ends with Pierre moving into his new apartment right off campus, meeting his roommates in person for the first time and they ask if he wants to go out that night as a welcome dinner and he's like, SURE.

They all walk into this place with garage sides that roll up and foamy beer and it's just so...Pierre can almost smell the ocean from here and he feels alive - just like he did when he was eight and just like he did when he fell in love with Charles and just like he did when his therapist hugged him during their last session and told him she was proud of him.

He's being introduced to one of his roommate's friends from his grad program and Pierre hears him - Charles.

He turns around and he's there. Talking to a group of people, laughing and talking too loudly like he's prone to doing, but he turns immediately when Pierre says his name. "Charles."

His eyes go wide and Pierre thinks he's pissed but then he's throwing himself across the group of people and Pierre almost tips backwards catching him and Charles is laughing. "What are you doing here? What are you doing here? Oh my god. Are you starting school here?"

And Pierre laughs, telling him that he is. he's starting his grad program next week - is Charles on vacation or?

"I transferred in. I finished my associate's at the junior college back home and I - this was my number one pick." Charles laughs and pulls his phone out. "I think I'm gonna need a lot of biology help this semester."

Pierre puts his number in. "Why the hell are you taking biology? Don't tell me you're trying to -"

"Pierre." Charles laughs, "It's a line. I'm never taking another biology class in my life. I'm just getting your number."

"Oh," PIerre smiles before handing the phone back.

"Listen, I do have to get back to my friends because they will lock me out of the apartment tonight, but I will text you okay? And we'll get together and talk, yeah? I know it's shit of me to say, but I've thought about you like, every single day and this is...kismet or something."

Pierre nods and accepts the hug and when he turns back to his roommates, he shrugs and says, "It's my ex." and they all laugh.

He doesn't stay his ex, and Pierre goes to therapy and takes his anti-depressants and he and Charles sit on the beach for hours and they talk about everything and nothing and Pierre reminds himself that he always wants to get better.

#piarles #sorry for being insane #it will happen again #fic titles

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