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wannabemobwife · 4 years ago

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Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader Fanfic

-Pairings: mob! Tom Holland x reader

-Warnings: Language

-Words: 3.9K

Background Info- Tom Holland is boss of his mafia and Y/N Holland, his wife, is former mafia boss turned stay at home mom but still joined Tom on his business trips and meetings. They started dating at 19 and were married at the young age of 21, realizing they only needed each other. They have two kids together, both ages 16, Parker and Rosie Holland.

*Realistically to have two teenagers, Tom and Y/N are both in their mid/late thirties but they look like they are in their mid twenties/late twenties alright. What can I say, they have really good genes. I can guarantee that Tom will still definitely look as gorgeous as he does know in his 30’s.

Author note: I enjoy writing drama, so it’s hard to have constant fluff, mostly angst (I hope, at least what I consider angst). The more times where a character almost dies but doesn’t the better to me. This is my first fanfic, I wrote this story based on being married with kids because that is the part of my life I’m most looking forward to. Heads up but there is tons of dialogue, I find that the most fun to write.

Also I enjoy PDA and a personal goal of mine is to be married for 20 years and still want to jump my husband’s bones so there are a bunch of little hints like that through the fanfic. Sorry if your name is any of the characters, feel free to change them in your mind. I know it’s stupid of me to say that but whatever.

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Words: 3.9K

You and Tom were a power couple. The Hollands, the ones with the most power and the most dangerous. A king and queen to their empire. Lately you had been tackling married life together and had been raising two kids. A boy named Parker and a girl named Rosie both the same age. But nothing could prepare you for what every parent dreads, their teenage years. All the hormones, mood swings and relationship drama that comes with it.

When both the twins turned 16 it was big turning point in your family. Rights of passage as Tom would say. You and Tom threw a massive gala to celebrate their 16 years of being alive. Tom as the leader of his own mob, money was no object and you coming from the family you did and being a former mafia boss, you both had truly opulent wealth. It was the night of their kids’ sixteenth birthday and everyone was invited from family, friends, business associates and even enemies. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer they would say. Tom and tried to keep as much as possible from your kids, trying to give them a normal childhood. Failing over and over again at that. Some nights Tom would come home bloody from beating up someone who crossed him. Or there would always been strange, bulky, built men surrounding your mansion for protection. It was hard to explain everything to the kids, but it was something they just had to do for family.

The party was about to begin, 7:00 on the dot, and the house was decorated to fit a very elegant yet youthful look. Caterers dressed in white carrying bountiful trays of appetizers. Tom and you adored the luxury of their life, even though they knew if they didn’t have all the materials they did they would be even happier. Their family is what mattered most to them. You were dressed to the nines, in a lace gold gown, with sparkly stilettos on. Her Y/H/C hair gracefully laying one her back, without a strand out of the place. And her Y/E/C eyes were beaming, if looks could kill they would. Tom couldn’t help but admire you.

“You know, it’s rude to gawk,” you said and Tom chuckled.

“I’m sorry but you’re just too beautiful not to,” he responded and placing his hands on your hips.

Rolling your eyes and smirking you said “tonight’s the night.”

“I know, should we do it now?” he questioned as his half smile turned into a frown.

“No, let him have this one more night. Without any obligation,” you had been dreading this night for years.

“Alright, darling,” he said as he kissed softly, he just couldn’t contain himself he

found his other half. The person that makes him want to be a better man. His soulmate.

Like any family there are skeletons in their closets but, the Hollands were a whole another story. Tonight was the night, one they had been dreading for 16 years, to be exact. You and Tom’s son, Parker would be tasked with the most difficult decision of his life. One that will rewrite his story. Tom wishes he would just turn it down and do what he didn’t have the balls to do when he was his age.

The day Tom’s dad brought him into the office, he knew his life would never be the same. Dom, his father and former boss of the Holland empire, made it very clear that if he turned him down, he could forget about being in this family. Tom just knows he won’t give the same ultimatum. Parker being the oldest and only son of Tom and Y/N Holland is the future of their family empire. Parker was quite popular, a playboy actually and very dashing. Wearing a black suit with a black tie and a white shirt he look just like his dad with his brown hair slicked back. Being one of the guests of honor tonight he had to look the part. Slowly made his way to the bar before his mother could find him. Desperately needing some liquid courage, he quickly poured himself a shot of vodka and downed it even faster. However nothing gets past, you, Y/N Holland.

“Parker Jackson Holland!” you fumed, catching her 16 year old son drinking.

“Hey, what’s with the middle naming me, it’s my birthday,” he responded a little startled.

“You should not be drinking, ever. You got two years, mister,” you explained.

“Alright, mum,” Parker sounded annoyed.

“Where’s your sister by the way, party is supposed to start in 10 mins,” you said as she noticed all the guest starting to arrive. A line of people already waiting at the door but everyone knew the Hollands preferred people to arrive fashionably late.

“I don’t know. Having a fit probably. Last I heard was screaming coming from her closet.”

“I’ll go check on her. Your father and I need you sober later. Understood?” You exclaimed.

“Yes, mum.” Parker was a good boy on paper but, enjoyed breaking the rules.

Right as you turned away, Parker then started to pour another shot.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said still walking forward. Parker chuckled and set the shot down.

You went to go check on her daughter. You knocked on the door when she heard something shatter. Rosie may seem timid but she definitely inherited Tom’s anger issues.

“Honey? Is everything alright?” You questioned, startled by the outburst.

“Yeah, mum. I’m sorry,” Rosie muttered seeming frustrated.

“It’s ok, oh honey!” You exclaimed, noticing the tears on her daughter face

“I know, this is stupid,” Rosie whispered trying to hide her tear stained face.

“No, no it isn’t. What’s wrong?” you said, genuinely concerned for her daughter’s well-being.

“I don’t know everything, this dress, my hair, my makeup,” she exclaimed frantically.

“Baby, you look beautiful.”

“Pretty enough that someone would want to dance with me?” Rosie whispered. You were caught off guard that your daughter could ever have thoughts like that.

“Yes of course, you are always gorgeous.” You hated seeing your baby girl beat herself up based on her looks.

“Thanks mom, I have a question?” You just nodded in response.

How did you get dad to fall in love with you?” Rosie asked inquisitively.

“Um, I guess was just myself. I didn’t put on a facade and I was very honest and transparent with him,” you answered a little taken back from the question.

“You were yourself? I find that hard to believe. From stories I’ve heard you seemed to be bold, brave and beguiling” said Rosie with a hint of sarcasm.

“Am I not those things now?” You asked, cheekily.

“No you are, just in a different way.”

“Honey, whoever you are trying impress, will love for who you are, ok?” You couldn’t stand seeing her daughter like this.

“Alright. Can you help me with my makeup?” Rosie asked because her previous makeup had been ruined by her miniature breakdown

“Yes, of course.”

Back at the party Tom was making his way around saying hello to almost everyone. He desperately needed to find his son. Tom’s and Parker’s relationship was interesting to say the least. As babies and toddlers Tom was there. He loved his kids so much but as they grew older they only noticed the times he wasn’t there. Only the missed recitals and football games, never all times that had dinner as a family and he tucked them in to bed at night. Parker is closer to his mother and his twin sister. Never really having that man to man talk with his dad yet. The time when fathers stop seeing their sons as boys and look at them as men. Tom approached Parker sitting there with his a drink in his hand, he hoped was a watered down Pepsi.

“Hey Parker, did your mom talk to you already?” Tom asked, not trying to raise too many questions.

“No, she might have mentioned something,” Parker responded.

“Ok, well after cake meet me in my office.” Parker nodded in response and noticed how he tensed a little at the conversation.

Their chat quickly ended when Harrison and his 16 year old son Henry came to wish happy birthday. Harrison is Tom’s right hand man, his consigliere and his best friend. He was more than that, Harrison was family. Harrison’s son, Henry was best friends with Parker and Rosie, ever since birth.

“Hey mate,” Tom said to his best friend Harrison.

“Hey, just came to wish this guy “happy birthday”” he said patting Parker’s shoulder.

“Happy birthday, dude” Henry said to Parker and he returned with subtle “thank you’s.” Parker slightly nodded to his dad to see if he could leave the conversation and Tom let him know it was ok.

“Come on, let’s go,” Parker exclaimed making his way to den where his other friends were.

Harrison was the first to speak up, “Have you told him yet?”

“No, Y/N and I are going to do it tonight” Tom uttered with a low toned voice.

“Geez, do you need me there?” Harrison asked, afraid Tom might say yes. Harrison was there when Tom went through the same process with his dad. Tom’s anger issues didn’t help the outcome.

“I think I’m alright, just family. Not that I don’t consider you family but I don’t even know if Rosie should be there.” Tom justified.

“It’s alright mate, I get it.”

They were both enjoying their night, making their rounds, Tom and Harrison went to get drinks, not beer this time but a scotch on the rocks as this was a classy night. Everything was dandy up until one of Tom’s men, William, came up to him informing Tom of a problem.

“Sir we have a problem,” William whispered to Tom, Tom nodded for them to follow them to his office.

“William, what now? Can’t you see I’m enjoying the party?” Tom exclaimed, closing the doors to his office.

“Sir, Daniel, was found dead at his post outside, shot by a tranquilizer gun, with a note taped to his chest, it’s for you.” William announced and handed the paper to the most important and dangerous man of the mob, his boss.

“What the fuck?” A long silence stayed in the air while Tom processed the news. Awkwardness had filled the entire room as they all awaited Tom’s response.

“For fucks sake, you need at least 3 guards posted outside. NOW!” He screamed as his anger continued to rise as read the note.

“Yes, Sir.” William said promptly.

“God forbid anything else happen tonight, but my wife and kids are the first ones to be escorted to safe house. Understood?” Tom explained as he only was only thinking about his family in that moment.

“Yes, Sir.” William said and quickly ran out before he could get the brunt of Tom’s upcoming outburst. Right on cue, Tom threw a glass ashtray at the wall, it shattering into shards.

“Calm down mate, what did the note even say.” Harrison asked with a worrisome look on his face. Tom showed Harrison the joy and his smile faded immediately. Tom for the first time, in a while, felt fear because he knew he had everything to lose.

Not wanting to deal with the life long headache that is his life. He looked for solace in, you, his wife as he spotted her over by the fireplace and made his way over to you.

“Have told you look stunning tonight?” He said instantly falling in love with you over again.

“Several times actually,” you said.

“Well I can’t help what you do to me, gorgeous.” He said placing a kiss to your temple.

“Hey, have you had the talk with him yet?” You said pointing a finger at your son getting very intimate with some girl.

The girl was Charlotte Owens. Parker and her had been together for almost a year, but you and Tom hadn’t met her formally yet. Your son was very tight-lipped the it came to his private life. She was tall, fair and had platinum blonde hair along with piercing blue eyes. Rosie didn’t seem to like her very much, constantly annoyed by her popularity status and reputation, used to be known for being with a new guy every couple weeks and don’t put it past Rosie to not give her the benefit of the doubt.

“No, remember we’re going to do it tonight. Is something wrong?” He said with concern, worried why you would forget something so important.

“No, not that talk, silly, “The talk”,” you responded. His lips formed an “o” shaped as he realized he would have to teach his son about how to be safe during sex.

“Oh, no. I’ve been avoiding it for as long as possible.”

“Why baby, you’re so good at it. You could give him a few a pointers.” You said, winking at him.

“Wow, love, you surprise me everyday. Speaking of beautiful girls, where’s Rosie. I’ve haven’t seen her all night,” Tom quickly trying to change the subject as they were at a party.

“I saw her a few minutes ago,” you said as a puzzled look grew on her face.

“Come on, let’s go find her and maybe you and I can sneak off for awhile.” He said cheekily.

“Tommy,” you whispered but eventually agreed. Slowly making your way out of the main ballroom to the secret garden next to his office.

Walking very slyly, you both made your way to secret spot near Tom’s office. Where ivy had grown throughout the brick and purple and yellow tulips lined the fence along with giant trees. There was a little wishing fountain that Tom had installed when you moved in, this was their secret spot. One where they could forget about all the violence and responsibility that tainted their lives.

Their intimate moment was ruined when Rosie walked by with some random guy named Connor, not the person she’d hope to bring there. All throughout the night Rosie seemed to be jealous of the attention her crush was getting at the party as he didn’t pay attention to her. Thus, she went find a distraction of her own.

“Oh hey, shh, look two people getting it on over there,” he whispered to her as she dragged him outside.

“Please don’t be my brother.” She murmured but felt like she wanted to throw up when she saw who it was.

“Mom, dad?” Rosie screamed.

“Oh shit, we’ve been busted,” Tom muttered against your neck.

“Hey honey,” You said while Rosie was completely mortified. Rosie’s potential hookup stood there mouth wide open.

“That’s your mum, god, she’s a babe.” Connor said.

“Connor, not helping.” Rosie exclaimed sternly as she pinched his side.

Tom spoke up, “Why don’t you guys go back and enjoy the rest of the party.”

Rosie just nodded and left as fast as humanly possible. She never wants to be that embarrassed again.

“Oh my god, we were gonna get it later.” You said.

“I know, we really screwed up this time. But have you had “the talk” with her yet,” Tom asked.

“Nope, we should both really get on that. What would I’ve happened if they hadn’t caught us?” You asked jokingly.

“I don’t want to think about that Y/N! She’s our daughter.” Tom exclaimed.

“Neither do I.”

“Enough of this, where were we?” Tom interjected immediately changing the subject.

“Well you lips were on my neck and you hand was on my waist, but I think the moment has passed and we should get back to the party,” you said rather seductively.

“Fine, I know you’re right. But fuck, I just want to make out with my wife,” Tom muttered frustratingly.

“Well you can later... in bed.” Winking as you chuckled.

“Man, that kid was right, you are a babe.”he said as he slapped your ass as you walked in front of him chuckling.

“Is it time for cake?” Harrison asks as he came up to Tom and you.

“I think it is.” Tom said and you nodded. Walking towards Rosie, who was desperately trying to erase her self from existence because of the embarrassment she’d experienced a minute ago.

“Hi, honey. Can you please go find your brother? We are going to cut the cake.” You said trying not to accidentally bring up the elephant in the room.

“Alright, fine,” Rosie muttered still a little peeved finding you and Tom like that. Rosie searched high and low for Parker.

Needing some assistance she asked Henry. “Hey, have you seen my brother?”

“Last I saw he was taking Charlotte to the green house” Henry responded.

“Alright, come on, let’s go find them” Rosie said rolling her eyes. Her hand slipped into Henry’s as she led the way. Making their way through the vast yet gorgeous yard. Rosie and Henry found Parker and Charlottes lips entangled together and bodies in a compromising position in the green house

“For fucks sake, how many people am I going to find sucking face at this party.” Rosie yelled, startling Charlotte and Parker.

“What the fuck do you want, Rosie? Can’t you see I’m busy.” Parker quipped annoyingly.

“Mom and dad want to cut the cake” Rosie responded.

“Ugh fine. Give us 10 mins” knowing he will be finished in that time.

“No, you can fuck your bimbo of a girlfriend later.” Rosie said, receiving a grimace from Charlotte.

“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that! Fuck off!” Parker yelled as Henry and Rosie left. Both of the kids had inherited Tom’s angry side.

“Well, you can explain to mom and dad you were late because you were balls deep in in your whore,” Rosie said walking away.

The moments leading up to the end of Parker’s innocence were fleeting. In more ways than one. He wasn’t a virgin even before that evening but, Parker could imagine the task he was supposed to accomplish. The 3 tier chocolate raspberry ganache cake had been cut and distributed to the guests. Happy birthday had been sung to Rosie and Parker. Parker tried to go off with Charlotte again, but Harrison stopped him and brought him to the Tom’s office.

“They’re in there,” Harrison whispered.

“Who?” Parker asked Harrison who was like his uncle.

“Just go,” Parker opened the door to see his mother and his dad sat behind the desk. The door shut behind him.

“Mom? Dad? What’s going on here?” Parker hesitated.

“Son, sit down,” Tom said, knowing this wasn’t going to be easy.

“We have to talk to you.” You interjected.

“Parker, as part of this family, there are certain responsibilities you have to take. It is a tradition in our family that at the age of 16, the sons are brought to light about the dealings of our family and what is expected of you,” Tom said as Parker grew wary. Not really understanding what his parents were trying to convey.

Throughout his entire life, he had his suspicions about his family. Wondering why men followed them everywhere, even on trips to the store for eggs. Why his parents went to work but have never seen their office, only heard it referred to as “the warehouse.” Why everything was always so damm secretive. Scared if he accidentally let some enormous family secret slip with his big mouth there would be repercussions. Never not scared of the harm that could come to his family.

“Your father, is the leader of a very powerful mob. I am part of it too, not just as wife but as his partner. There will be day when he will longer be in position of boss and you will take over,” you asserted playing off of Tom’s words.

“Our family is not only the owners of one of the world’s richest exporting company, we also do business with casinos and own multiple hotel chains. Sometimes our work brings us above the law, but the connections we have are what keep us alive.” Tom explained trying to preserve his son’s innocence.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Parker stuttered.

“Because it is time. Time for you to step up and take your place in this family. You’ve had 16 years of juvenile fun and now this is what has to be done.” Tom concluded.

“What if I don’t want this life. You don’t think I don’t know what happens behind closed doors here. All the times dad has come home with a black eye or blood on his knuckles. Why fuck isn’t Rosie here? She is the same age as me, WE ARE TWINS! Why am I the only one who has to do this. I don’t want to kill for sport like you and mom!” Parker screamed. He couldn’t handle this anymore. There was too much information he had to process.

“Do not raise your voice at your mother! Tom screamed.

“Dad, I had dreams and hopes. I wanted to go to college and travel. Find a nice girl and marry her. Experience the kind of love you and mom have. What you are asking me to do, flushes all that away. You are asking me to give up on my life.

So that’s it, I don’t have a choice,” Parker begged.

“Baby, you have a choice. Nothing is set in stone,” you said rubbing his arm.

“Y/N, you damm well know what will happen if he turns this down,” Tom yelled.

“Maybe this life works for you two, but I don’t want this kind of life. My answer is no. Find someone else.”

“Parker, you know I can’t do that. Take a couple days and think about it” Tom answered trying to stay calm.

“NO DAD! My answer is final, I’m not going to be your apprentice to carry on this heinous family legacy!” Parker exploded. It was too much.

“If you aren’t willing to do what is asked of you, then you can forget about being in this family!” Tom screamed. He did exactly what he said he wouldn’t, he gave his son an ultimatum. Parker couldn’t handle it anymore and left. Needing to forget about the fact he no longer had a say. He was stuck.

It was just Tom and you sitting in the study. They couldn’t understand where the conversation had gone. All their hopes for tonight went out the window along with potted plant Tom threw when Parker stormed out.

“Tom, you can’t force him. You can’t do what your father did to you to him.” You tried to say in a loving tone but it came out as stern.

“IM NOT, Y/N!!!” Tom screamed. He had fucked up. The words spoken tonight have rewritten his relationship with his son.

“Alright.” You whispered trying to calm your fuming husband down.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice, baby.” Tom’s tone immediately changed once he heard the softness of your voice. You just nodded in response

“Tommy?” You asked hoping Tom was now ok.

“Yes, love” Tom said.

“He’ll come around. I can promise you that.”

“I know, darling. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?” a look of confusion grew on your face.

He handed you a paper, the same one that was found on Daniel’s body, saying “Eclipsing of the Hollands. Let the show begin. Better watch your back.”

It was threat. A play to eventually be made on his life or the life of his family and you all had no idea who was behind it.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

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lostwithart · 3 years ago

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Reflection

Bugto, Gianne Karlo Red

Spoliarium

When we say “arts” I’m sure that the first thing that’ll come to your mind is “color”, only because it has something or it leads to “painting” and “drawing”. Based on my experience and observation, if someone said that he/she loves art, the other person will automatically say “ow so you’re good at drawing?”, “How about painting?”.

That’s where most people don’t understand that, arts don’t revolve around painting and drawing things. The arts, also called fine arts, are modes of expression that use skill or imagination in the creation of aesthetic objects, environments, or experiences that can be shared with others. There are different kinds of arts; literature (including poetry, drama, story, and so on), the visual arts (painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.), the graphic arts (painting, drawing, design, and other forms expressed on flat surfaces), the plastic arts (sculpture, modeling), the decorative arts (enamelwork, furniture design, mosaic, etc.), the performing arts (theatre, dance, music), music (as composition), and architecture (often including interior design).

Our country has great artists, including painters and musicians. Filipinos are known all over the world as talented people of the Philippines, and they represented their talents with all their bests. Paintings are such beautiful creations, must say that I find peace and amazement when I looked at paintings, whether from the internet or museum’s. If we’re going to talk about painting, the only one that pops out to my head is the “Spoliaruim”, not the song of the band Eraserheads, but the artwork of the famous painter Juan Luna. Although it inspired the title of rock band Eraserheads’ 1997 hit song “Spoliarium,” which has been connected by many to the Pepsi Paloma rape controversy. The National Museum’s 360-virtual tour, which includes the “Spoliarium,” was launched in October and is still ongoing. —Arianne Suarez, Inquirer Research.

Luna was born in the town of Badoc, Ilocos Norte in the northern Philippines, Luna was the third among the seven children of Joaquín Luna de San Pedro y Posadas and Laureana Novicio y Ancheta. In 1861, the Luna family moved to Manila and he went to Ateneo Municipal de Manila where he obtained his Bachelor of Arts degree. He excelled in painting and drawing and was influenced by his brother, Manuel N. Luna, who, according to Filipino patriot José Rizal, was a better painter than Juan himself.

The Spoliarium (often misspelled Spolarium) is a painted by Juan Luna. Luna, working on canvas, spent eight months completing the painting. The painting was submitted by Luna to the Exposición Nacional de Bellas Artes in 1884 in Madrid, where it garnered the first gold medal (out of three). The reason why I adored Juan Luna’s “Spoliarium” is because it brought historical triumph not just to Luna but also to the Philippines.

“Spoliarium” was the name given to the Roman Colosseum basement where fallen gladiators were thrown in after combat, which is depicted in the life-sized piece. It is currently on display in the National Museum of Fine Arts, the 4.22 x 7.675-meter oil on canvas is considered the largest painting in the country. In addition, it illustrates two dead gladiators being dragged by Romans at the center. On the left, scavengers eye the dead men’s possessions while a Roman beside them raises a fist in protest. A woman mourns a loved one on the right side while an old man searches for a body amid the smoky haze. The depiction of Roman cruelty in the painting has been interpreted as an allegory for the state of the Philippines under Spanish rule.

Just like the paintings, I always fell in love with music. I’m just amazed at how it works, tThe sounds that are so good to hear with the help of musical instruments are very pleasing. With the numerous kinds of music, I love to say that I appreciate it all honestly. I strongly believe that all of us people can’t live the way we are right now without hearing and feeling the sensation and comfort of the art of music. For example, when we are sad and alone, listening to some of our favorite songs makes us feel better. Even if we’re happy and loud, adding some flavor of music can make the situation be the best it can be. There are many definitions of music, 1 : an arrangement of sounds having melody, rhythm, and usually harmony classical music. 2 : the art of producing pleasing or expressive combinations of tones especially with melody, rhythm, and usually harmony I want to study music in college. 3 : a musical composition set down on paper Bring your music.

A song is a form of music. Furthermore, songs are performed by living voices. There are a few techniques that make a song. A few instruments, devices and voices join together to form a song. It includes composition, lyrics, direction and amplification. I have my favorite song, and in addition, I love a song when the lyrics are just so meaningful and relate to me. Related to paintings we Filipinos made a name by being one of the best song performers in the world. From composing and singing we are relentless.

In our country we have our Original Pilipino Music (OPM), it refers to any musical composition with or without lyrics, originally created by a, Filipino, whether the lyrics be in Pilipino, English or other foreign languages, or any other Philippine dialect. This is where I reveal my idol, the maestro Ryan Cayabyab.

Raymundo Cipriano Pujante Cayabyab, known professionally as Ryan Cayabyab, is a Filipino musician, composer and conductor. He was the Executive and Artistic Director for several years for “The defunct San Miguel Foundation for the Performing Arts” and won a lot of awards on his career. He was born on May 4, 1954 at Sta. Cruz Manila, Philippines.

What I truly admire and has been the song that keeps on playing especially on Christmas Eve even though It is old and outdated was “kumukutikutitap”. This song doesn’t just add a playful skip to our walk, it makes us meander and enter the magical and most wonderful time of the year – Christmas time! The lyrics of the song are almost like yummy and delightful tongue twisters, matched with a bouncy and animated melody.

The song ‘Kumukutikutitap’ was originally for choir, so since the song wasn’t used, I gave it to the Singers’ Foundation to learn for their Christmas caroling fund-raising activity. The Singers’ Foundation choir included it in their repertoire starting Christmas of 1984.” Members of that group included many big-name OPM singers during that time – Celeste Legaspi, Basil Valdez, Leah Navarro, The Apo Hiking Society, Rico Puno, Marco Sison, Nonoy Zuniga, Eugene Villaluz, Louie Reyes, Pat Castillo, Jacqui Magno, Tillie Moreno. Even the duo of Subas Herrero and Noel Trinidad joined the group, plus the backup singers Babsie Molina and most of her colleagues, and these people are great singers and has been my idol when it comes to OPM. After “Kumukutikutitap” was performed, all the other choirs who heard the song asked for a copy of the choral score. As the years passed, the song became a staple of choirs every Yuletide season.

This song, made me feel that life isn’t that hard, although we are suffering individually for the problems that always been there. I want the people to go back, take a look or should I say listen to our music as Filipinos, appreciate and thank our artists not just on music, but all the artist in our country. Because what we have and what they did is a masterpiece that needs to remembered always.

#Gianne Karlo Red Bugto

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birdhouse-of-shadows · 3 years ago

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Hello everyone! So here is a fic that I left in my askbox for a hot minute lol. This was all submitted by an anon who you may or may not have seen a few times. This is a compilation of all of the asks and the whole story.

My comments will be in green, any notes from the author will be in blue and the rest will be in the normal text color.

PLEAAASEE be careful if you are sensitive to the following subjects:

Tw: Child Abuse, torture, multiple abusive foster homes, bondage(kinda, quirk inhibiting cuffs), Heavy injury, blood, smoking,

im currently running on no sleep and a bottle of pepsi, sour this is sloppy asf I apologize in advance 😗

im in an angst mood, so i come with this.

Tokoyami’s biological parents abandoned him when he was four. To this day he has no idea why, and has very little memory of them. All of his memories take place in one of the seven abusive foster homes he lived in before he entered U.A.. Over the course of that time, Fumikage has accumulated a large variety of scars, from deep, jagged scars, to cigarette burns, to just really, really bad bruises. Out of all the foster homes he’s been in, none of Fumikage’s foster parents have been fond of mutants, or mutant-type quirks. In several of the foster homes, Fumikage was forced to wear quirk suppressant cuffs 24/7, since his parents “didn’t want a monster running rampant in their house.” Between his mutation, and the violent tendencies of Dark Shadow, Fumikage was basically what nobody wanted in a child. His foster parents would yell every possible derogatory insult at Fumikage, saying he should’ve never been born, even though they weren’t even his real parents. Over time, the verbal abuse would mess with Fumikage’s mind. He’d stare at himself in the mirror, wondering why he was born the way he was, and why he’s the monster everyone says he is. And just when he thought the verbal abuse couldn’t get any worse, as he got older, his foster parents would resort to physical punishment. At first, it wasn’t that bad, at least, in Fumikage’s eyes. Just a slap here and there, plus some cigarette burns on his arms and shoulders. It was painful, but he fought through it, knowing no one would come to help him. But over time, the “discipline” would get even more brutal. It doesn’t matter what he did, every little thing seemed to set his parents off. From accidentally breaking something, to giving a snide comment unannounced, it wasn’t often that Fumikage went to bed at night without being beaten sometime before then. He would be pinned down by his throat and violently beaten with whatever blunt object was nearby. He eventually gave up trying to apologize, as it somehow only upset his parents even more. Once, when he was eleven years old, Fumikage was beaten with a glass vase after pushing one of his foster siblings. The glass eventually shattered, and the broken ends of the vase dug into Fumikage’s back, leaving horrible, jagged cuts all over him. Witnessing Fumikage being beaten day after day made Dark Shadow feel overwhelmingly guilty. Fumikage was in quirk suppressant cuffs ninety percent of the time, so Dark Shadow was pretty much helpless in most situations. Those damned cuffs made it feel like an invisible wall was put up between where Dark Shadow resided, and the outside world. A wall that agonizingly sat between Dark Shadow, and Fumikage’s safety. There were nights when Fumikage lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, his body numbed by pain. Whether he was laying in a bed or not, unfortunately varied by foster home. But it was on those nights where Dark Shadow would apologize profusely to Fumikage, saying that they’re nothing more than the monster that brought misery to Fumikage’s life. Saying that they’re the reason Fumikage gets beaten so often, and yet do nothing to help him. They vow that once they’re in a safer home, away from their abusers, that they will always protect Fumikage. Always. But by then…Fumikage had already fallen asleep.

Overall, Tokoyami’s home life…was nothing worth smiling about. Thankfully, his time at school was less painful. He often got comments about his looks, saying that he was ugly and all that, but by then, he was more than used to it. Eventually, he faded into the shadows (no pun intended) at most of his schools. He eventually was just forgotten about, which truthfully, didn’t bother him. It was a bit lonely, sure, but it was much better than constantly being beaten simply for existing. In Fumikage’s eyes, school was just a break from his disastrous home life. Though, he tended not to talk during class, and had very little interaction with his teachers, for…reasons. Even so, it was actually during his first year of middle school where Fumikage discovered his dream of being a hero. Just because he was spared from the excessive discrimination of mutants, others happened to be less fortunate. Fumikage would witness how his fellow mutants were treated by others. They had their work stolen, their bags dumped out, over were overall just treated like dirt compared to everyone else. So anytime Tokoyami saw a fellow mutant, or anyone really, being bullied, he’d go and help them, telling them that they don’t deserve to take shit for the way they look, or what their quirk is, and that quirks don’t make villains, it’s how those quirks are used, meaning that the people bullying them are more like villains than they will ever be. With his newfound motivation, Tokoyami decided that he wanted to become a hero to show others that they don’t have to fear who they were born to be, or, as he put it, “To not be daunted by their inner darkness. Instead, to embrace such, and with it, become your best self.” Love that for him honestly. One of the students he helped was a tall, slim girl with a head reminiscent to that of an elephant, her most notable feature being her long trunk that was about the length of her entire upper body. She was shy, and avoided any sort of conflict like the plague. At one point she was harassed by another group of girls, before Tokoyami came and stopped them. He gave his long winded, motivational speech to her, and saying she was grateful was quite the understatement, and the next day, as a thank-you gift, gave Tokoyami a red choker, saying that it was just like the one Dark Crystal wore, knowing how much Tokoyami admired the hero. (In other words, he never shut up about him) Tokoyami relayed his gratitude countless times to her, and the two agreed to become friends, even though they wouldn’t see eachother often. Reluctantly, the girl also pointed out the horrible scars and bruises on Tokoyami’s neck, and figured that he’d want to cover them. Tokoyami stiffened at the mention of his scars, but continued thanking her anyway. The two often saw eachother in the halls and waved at one another, on friendly terms, but strangely enough, they never spoke again.

It was also around that time that he became more interactive with Dark Shadow, and began to explore more darker concepts. He founded a love for reading, specifically horror novels and manga. He also became fascinated with poetry (specifically the edgy variety), both reading and writing it. He found that writing poetry gave him an outlet for expressing both himself, and Dark Shadow’s feelings, without having to risk angering his foster parents. Eventually, the tone found written by his favorite poets began to make its way into Fumikage’s speech patterns. He felt more comfortable with it, and it wasn’t something people easily understood, which ultimately meant his foster parents would just ignore him, thinking he was going through an emo phase. And miraculously, it worked. Although he was still physically and verbally abused throughout his middle school years, his foster parents eventually backed off, as Fumikage became more introverted. Now, he’d look in the mirror at all of his scars, and use his past trauma as motivation for becoming a hero. Though, it wasn’t easy. Those painful memories would always come flooding back whenever he looked at those scars. Since he spent most of his life surrounded by abusive adults, he believed that most adults were the same way, and refrained from speaking with adults at all, in fear of angering them. Hearing them yell would make him flinch out of pure instinct, and being stuck alone with an adult would make him an anxious mess. But he did his best to mask this fear with the brooding, edgy side of him. It was his best, and pretty much only way of coping with this fear. He tried his best to overcome his anxiety, but it was never that easy. But he managed to get through middle school mostly unscathed.

And finally, after three agonizingly long paragraphs, Fumikage makes it into U.A.. Of course, that didn’t exempt him from any of his current foster parent’s rules. He had to keep quirk cuffs in his bag at all times, and if he came home without them on, he would be beaten. Tokoyami remained obedient, not wanting to show up to his first day at U.A. beaten half to death. Armed with his scars, his motivation, and of course, Dark Shadow, Tokoyami entered U.A with confidence. And everyone… was so nice???? Almost immediately after he sat in his designated seat in class 1-A, people came up to him, talking to him. He met a variety of different students, some more…mellow than others. But overall, he liked his class. But the teacher? Well…not so much. In Tokoyami’s eyes, the man who dubbed himself their homeroom teacher, Mr. Aizawa, was completely and utterly terrifying. ‘He probably has a machete hidden in that sleeping bag ready to kill us at any moment-‘ Dark Shadow said on the first day. Tokoyami couldn’t help but agree. But not in a comedic way. Something about Aizawa was all too reminiscent of one of his foster fathers, specifically the one who gave him all of the scars on his back, after beating him with a glass vase. Any time he was around him, he was anxious. But eventually, little did Fumikage know, this man who he deemed “terrifying” would eventually become one of the people he trusted the most.

okay okay I’ll stop for now, I’ll write more eventually, but I’ll wait until this is answered so I won’t be flooding your asks, and I promise I will never submit anything this long ever again 😖

part 2 yee yee

also, as you can tell, i have heavily observed canon, and elected to ignore it :)

Fumikage’s year so far was hectic. No, scratch that. It was hellish. It seemed like everywhere the class went together, they were attacked by villains. Aizawa seemed to be getting more and more tired by the day. Fumikage didn’t blame him, as he had a class full of trouble magnets. But following the skirmish at the forest training camp, and All Might’s retirement, things seemed to be looking up, at least a little bit. However, there was rumor going around that U.A. was planning to implement a form system, leaving Fumikage with mixed feelings. One on hand, he was ecstatic. He could finally, even if it was just for a short time, get away from his foster home. The training camp incident left Fumikage shaken more than he’d like, and having to deal with verbal abuse at the hands of his father wasn’t doing him any favors. After being released from the hospital, his father berated him four what felt like hours after hearing that he’d lost control of Dark Shadow. The day he got home, without any second thought, his father grabbed him by his shirt collar (which hurt more than it should have due to the fresh bruises on Fumikage’s back) and mercilessly screamed at him. Even though it only lasted about ten minutes, it felt like forever. He was forced to stand just inches away from his father, the thick smell of cigarette smoke emitting from his breath. Dark Shadow shrunk within him, trying desperately to drown out the heinous comments that they’re directly responsible for. Following the “lecture”, as his father like to call it, Fumikage was put back into his quirk cuffs, but this time, as what his parents described as a “precaution”, he had a thick, tight quirk suppressant collar locked around his neck. It dug through Fumikage’s skin, and it felt like he was being strangled. Even so, just like everything he’d been through up to that point, he had to bear with it. He tiredly trudged back to his room, or, well, it was a linen closet. He had a small pile of blankets that acted as his bed, as well as several books lined up neatly against the wall. He’d read most of them several times already, but other that his phone, it was pretty much his only source of entertainment. The closet was always freezing, and he was rarely allowed out. But Fumikage always forced himself to be grateful for having a roof over his head at all, since he knew there were always going to be people who were less fortunate. With a sigh, he lay down on his small pile of blankets. He curled up within himself, trying his best to keep warm. Normally, one of his siblings slip whatever packaged food their parents gave them under the door. It always tasted like it went bad two weeks ago, but at this point, to Fumikage, fuck it, food was food. But much to his dismay, Fumikage’s parents told him that he was “on punishment”. And while on punishment, he knew well enough, that they refuse to feed him. Over the last 18 months that he’d been living in that foster home, he’d been on punishment five times, and during that time, he lost a very unhealthy amount of weight, and his overall health tanked. But, like he said for every terrible thing that’s befallen him over the past 12 years, he was used to it. So, Fumikage went the next three days without eating a single thing.

But it was after those three days, when Fumikage’s life changed. Whether it was for better or worse, he was forced to wait and see.

One morning, or…was it evening? It was hard to tell when you’re stuck in a dark linen closet with no sense of time whatsoever. But anyway, Fumikage woke up shivering, not that he wasn’t used to that. But he did hear the faint sound of his parents talking. However, there was one other voice. Fumikage’s hearing wasn’t the best, with him being a bird and everything, but he knew that voice. He knew that voice from anywhere. It was Aizawa’s. Fumikage forced himself up. His back was stiff, and the thick collar around his neck weighed him down. His stomach was begging for food, but that wasn’t important. He smoothed out his feathers best he could, and quietly opened the closet door. He could hear Aizawa conversing with his parents, and they talked about the newly constructed dorms. Aizawa explained that for the Fumikage’s safety, he requested that Fumikage lives in a secure dorm system. He’d have his own room, full access to a kitchen full of food, and of course, he’d have a common space to mingle with his peers. To Fumikage, it sounded like heaven, but unfortunately, his parents weren’t having it. They went on and on about how Fumikage would put his peers in danger with his destructive quirk. Aizawa, thankfully, wasn’t willing to put up with them either. He went on to tell them about how Fumikage has excelled with the control of Dark Shadow. Fumikage felt a warm feeling in his stomach after hearing his teacher, that same one he’s so afraid of, speak so highly of him. But there was one thing that left Aizawa’s mouth that his parents really couldn’t respond to. “Well, why not let Fumikage have a say in this? Where is he?” he asked them. There was something about his teacher’s tone that showed that he knew exactly what he was doing. Fumikage looked down at himself. He was still wearing the same black long sleeved shirt and blue jeans that he’d worn three days ago. His quirk cuffs were tight around his wrists, and his collar, though he’d gotten used to the feeling, was madly uncomfortable around his neck. He had two choices. Go down there and let Aizawa witness firsthand the extent of Fumikage’s constant neglect, and risk being punished even further by his parents, or play it safe, and potentially let Aizawa find him on his own. But…the world was never that nice to him, so instead, Fumikage heard an irritated sigh, and footsteps coming up the stairs. Hurriedly, Fumikage shut the closet door and sat back down against the wall. Just moments later, he watched the closet door open, and felt his father’s sultry gaze fall on him. He grabbed his arm and pulled him up to his feet. He took the cuffs off of Fumikage, and let them fall to the floor. Before taking off the collar, he leaned down, glaring daggers at his foster son. “You say anything out of place boy, and I reopen those cuts on your back, god help you.” he said in a low growl. Fumikage stiffened, the memory of jagged glass tearing his skin open flashing through his mind. He nodded, and took a breath of air as the collar was removed. He really didn’t care that all he breathed in was cigarette smoke. That feeling of being strangled by a metal collar was finally gone, even if just for a little while. His father grabbed his wrist, and dragged him down to the living room, where Aizawa sat across from his mother.

Aizawa knew right away that there was something seriously off. Tokoyami had a few feathers out of place, and his shirt hung limply over him. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in a week. But what pisses Aizawa off the most, was something Tokoyami was clearly trying to hide, and that was the dark ring of bruises around his wrists. He really needed to confront his student about how these two were treating him. But for now, he just needed to get the kid to agree to move into the dorms. He watched the avian teen sit down between his two caretakers. The boy looked very uncomfortable, almost afraid. Aizawa felt his gaze soften upon seeing his student in the state he was, but he had to do what he came here for. So he directed his gaze to Tokoyami, and asked him his thought of moving into U.A.’s dorms. It concerned him hearing how fast Tokoyami answered. “I’d be glad to.” He responded almost instantly. “It would be a great opportunity to get to know my peers better, no?” He looked to his mother, who gave him an irritated look. Aizawa held back a smirk. The kid had a way with words, that was for sure. Aizawa cleared his throat, and spoke up. “Well, it seems he’s all for it.” he said, looking at the two adults in front of him. They looked very unamused. The boy’s mother rubbed her temples, and sighed. “Fine, fine.” she grumbled. “But if Fumikage has any issues with behavior whatsoever, so let us know.” She said, giving her son a pointed look. Aizawa nodded, and stood up. “I doubt that will be an issue, he’s very well behaved.” he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes fell to his student. He once again noticed the loose feathers sticking out from the sides of the boy’s head. There were only about two or three, but Aizawa took the initiative anyway. He leaned down toward Tokoyami, and smoothed out his feathers carefully. The boy stiffened, but relaxed. Once Aizawa was satisfied, he stood back up. Tokoyami brought a hand to the side of his head, and gave Aizawa a dumbfounded look. The man gave him an amused look, and turned around toward the door. “I’ll see you in a few days, Tokoyami.” he said, laying his hand on the doorknob. The teen nodded in response, and Aizawa left the house.

As soon as he shut the door, Aizawa clenched his fists. Of course he noticed Tokoyami’s disheveled-looking appearance. But there was one thing, one tiny little thing, that Tokoyami did. Since the moment he sat down, to the moment Aizawa left. Tokoyami rested one arm on his leg, and began tapping his knee. Aizawa didn’t think much of it at first, but then he remembered something he learned while he was still in training. Whenever someone did that, no matter the age, it was a warning sign. Tokoyami was trying to get his attention the entire time.

There was something seriously wrong.

And that’s it for part two I suppose. I feel like this part is significantly worse than the last one, but when it comes down to it, consistency isn’t my thing 🙃

i forgot to proofread part two before submitting it so uh….if there are typos to there aren’t <3

Its perfectly fine!! I never saw them~

part 3 let’s goooo

After Aizawa left, Fumikage relaxed his hand over his knee. He really hoped his teacher noticed his warning sign, but whether he did or not, he was still stuck with his parents until he moved into the dorms. A sudden wave of unease fell over him. He knew his parents were staring him down. And he knew they were not happy. He took at deep breath, and met his father’s gaze. The man’s eyes narrowed. “You got somethin’ to say, brat?” he spat through gritted teeth. Fumikage shrugged. He knew he wouldn’t be living with his foster parents for much longer, which made pushing their buttons much more tempting. He held back a smirk. “Me? Oh no. Although, judging by that look on your face, I figured you’d have something to say, no?” the teen hummed. He rested his elbows on his knees, and tilted his head. Fumikage watched his father’s eyelid twitch. It was quite amusing, really. “Just get your ass upstairs, brat. I don’t want another goddamn word outta you.” The man hissed. “And put your cuffs on too.” Fumikage let out a sigh, but nodded anyway. He’d best be obedient now, since, if possible, he’d like to make it to U.A.’s dorms in one piece. He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets, before trudging back upstairs to his “room”.

After closing the closet door, Fumikage took another look at the cramped area he’s forced to call his bedroom. For the last eighteen months, he was stuck in this hellhole of a house. He had felt more alone than any other point in his life, even with Dark Shadow around. He had no freedom in this house. Hell, he can hardly think of a time he’s ever had any freedom throughout his life. He’s been chained down, locked in cages like an animal, abused in pretty much every way possible…he hated it. More than anything. For most of his early life, it was hard for him to tell if Dark Shadow was really his quirk, or just a voice in his head, given how rarely the two would be allowed to see eachother. But to Fumikage, quirk or not, Dark Shadow was his closest friend. His only friend. And the idea of them getting an entire room, bed and all, just to themselves, with no restrictions, made Fumikage feel more excited than he had ever felt before. Fumikage put a hand to his chest, letting out a relieved sigh, and couldn’t help but smile. Even if it was just for a little while, he, alone with Dark Shadow, could finally be free.

While he was lost in his thoughts, Fumikage’s eyes eventually fell to his quirk cuffs, laying menacingly on the pile of blankets before him, his collar just a few inches away. He felt Dark Shadow stir restlessly within him, not wanting to be trapped by the cuffs. Even though Dark Shadow never got the chance to come out while they were off, it felt liberating to not be bound by what was, in the long run, thick pieces of metal. They’d felt more relaxed for those tense twenty minutes during the conference then they had been throughout their entire time living there. But they knew, for Fumikage’s safety, that, at least until they moved into the dorms, that the cuffs had to stay on. With a sigh, Fumikage grabbed the cuffs, and, after lining them up with his already existing bruises, snapped them shut. Dark Shadow felt like chains held them back the second the cuffs came on. They let out an agitated whimper deep within Fumikage. The teen sighed, bringing a hand to his chest. He hated when his quirk felt like this, but he knew it would all be over soon. He picked up the collar, feeling the cold metal in his hands. With a huff, he threw it aside, and sat down against the wall. He looked up at the ceiling, and reached deep within himself. It was faint, but he managed to connect with Dark Shadow. “Just a few more days, Dark Shadow…” he whispered. “It’ll all be over soon. Not for long, but…things will lighten up. I promise.” That promise was a bit of a stretch, in Fumikage’s opinion. But it would be that promise that got them through the next few days. Fumikage laid down on his “bed”, and reached for one of his books. He didn’t care which one, since he’d read them all about a million times each, but he just needed a distraction. The book he’d ended up grabbing, he knew was more philosophical than he would’ve preferred, but hey, he wanted a distraction. So he opened the book, and proceeded to read.

Fumikage had gotten about 90 pages in before he heard the lock on the closet door rattle. The door swung open, letting a wave of light into the room. Fumikage looked up from his book, and low and behold, his father stood over him, an angry look on his face, as always. “Can I help you?” Fumikage asked, laying the book down on his lap. The man in front of him snorted. “Get up, brat. It’s bath time.” he said, an amused tone in his voice. If he could, Fumikage would’ve raised a brow. That tone in his father’s voice was never a good sign, but Fumikage didn’t have much of a choice. So he laid the book aside, and stood up. His father grabbed his wrist, and dragged him out of the closet. Fumikage had no idea what his father meant by “bath time”, but as the two walked directly passed the bathroom, Fumikage knew, that his parents had something else in mind…

and that’s it for part 3. i never actually have a set plan for these, i just go until I feel like stopping. These also aren’t written beforehand, I just chill in your asks for an hours writing these, making things up as I go along. I basically treat it like my notes app lmao

I'm glad my ask box has served well as your notes app! Just be careful that things save!!

part 4. this was so fucking hard to write you don’t understand 😭 and im too tired to proofread this shit so if you see typos no you don’t. enjoy.

You're doing great!!

Trapped within his father’s grip, Fumikage nearly tripped as he was dragged down the stairs. Being dragged around like a rag doll was uncomfortable enough already, but having thick quirk cuffs clamped around his wrists, digging into his skin, made the whole ordeal more painful rather than uncomfortable, but either way, whatever his parents had in store for him, like always, Fumikage wasn’t looking forward to.

Before Fumikage knew it, the two were in the kitchen. A metal bucket sat in the kitchen sink, hot water running into it. Next to the sink stood his mother, a sultry grin on her face. Thick clouds of steam rose from the basin, and suddenly it hit him. Fumikage’s breath hitched, and he froze in place. He stumbled back, pressing himself against the wall behind him. His father let out a low chuckle. “What’s the matter brat? You were all smug n’ shit earlier. Where’d all that giddiness go?” He asked, leaning toward Fumikage. The man gave a sultry grin, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke into Fumikage’s face.

Fumikage’s eyes fell to his mother, who had her hand laid against the bucket. The painful reality all started coming together. Much quicker than Fumikage would’ve preferred, given that he’s on the receiving end of yet another one of his parent’s grueling “punishments”. His mother had a heat quirk. Not fire, but heat. She could alter the heat of any object she touches, reaching heats of up to 315 degrees celcius. Fumikage has been burned before. Several times actually. It hurt like hell, but nothing he’d ever felt before compared to the searing, agonizing pain of being touched by anything heated by his mother’s quirk. And here he was, backed into a corner, at his parent’s mercy.

He knew what was coming. As much as he hated what was about to come next, there was no getting out of it. Not with both of his parents right in front of him. As Fumikage watched that bucket of water begin to boil over, and his mother’s grin grow wider. he felt Dark Shadow begin to tremble within him, helplessly. He could feel his hands begin to shake, and without even having to look, he could hear his father chuckle in amusement.

Fumikage clenched his fists. He couldn’t just submit himself to his parents so easily. But then again, at the end of the day, he was helpless. As always. There was no escape, because when has there ever been? Fighting back was pointless. It always has been. Because to him, this wasn’t torture. This wasn’t abuse. To him, this was just another punishment. Another, grueling, agonizing, painful, god-forsaken punishment.

He was used to this.

Fumikage felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He looked up at his father. What was this sudden burst of emotion? Fumikage had never felt like this before. Was it anger? Fear? Whatever it was, it made his head spin. Either way, he planned to use his sudden rush of negative energy for something he should’ve done months ago. And the consequences that came with it?

Fuck the consequences.

A twisted, pained smile forced it’s way to Fumikage’s features. Tears rolling down his cheeks, he locked eyes with his father. “Sick bastard.” he muttered. “You know I’ll be out of this hellhole in two days, so you take every opportunity you have to put me in as much pain as possible.” Fumikage wiped a tear from his eyes with his sleeve. “Sounds like you’re getting desperate, wouldn’t you agree?” Fumikage grinned upon seeing that irritated look wash over his father’s face. Oh, how much he loved that look.

Over the years that Fumikage has been in foster care, he was never liked by this parents. They blamed it on his violent quirk. Funny enough, almost none of them had even seen his quirk. Fumikage never got around to asking about that, since a lot of the time, talking ended up getting him in trouble. Looking back on it, Fumikage realizes just how stupid it was. Talking, of all things, got him in trouble. What was next? Breathing?

And this foster home was no different. If he “talked out of place”, as his father liked to put it, he was punished. It was hard to decipher exactly what was considered talking “out of place”, since it seemed like nearly everything Fumikage said warranted punishment. So eventually, he opted not to speak at all. But there were always those times, now included, where talking back just felt so right. When Fumikage is finally able to stand up for himself, despite the inevitable consequences that came with it.

And boy, were there consequences.

Before he knew it, Fumikage’s head was slammed against the wall behind him, beak first. With how sensitive his beak was, that pain rung throughout his brain, dazing him. Then he was kneed in the stomach, three times actually, right on one of his fresh bruises. Fumikage let out a choked sob as his breath left him. Even if it only lasted seconds, Fumikage felt as though he were suffocating. And as much as he hated the feeling of air leaving him, that just so happened to be the least painful thing he experienced that night.

Through his pain, Fumikage caught a glimpse of something shiny. Because of course he would. It looked to be metal, with a sharp tip. In his dazed state, he could only guess that it was his Father’s six-inch knife. And right he was, because that exact knife tore down the back of his shirt, exposing all of the scars that littered his back. Pinning him against the wall, his father ripped off his shirt, before kicking him to the cold hardwood floors. Just as Fumikage attempted to sit up, he felt another hard kick to the back of his head. The teen brought his hands to his head almost immediately, gripping tightly at his feathers in an attempt to ease his head’s throbbing pain. But at that moment, Fumikage realized, he had let his guard down.

Just seconds later, he felt it.

That agonizing, searing pain.

All over his body.

He let out a gut-wrenching scream as he felt blisters rapidly forming all over his back and arms. He found himself clawing at his arms, in a desperate attempt to ease the stinging pain, only for thin, deep cuts to form on his pale skin. He felt his quirk cuffs reacted to the heat, getting ever more tighter around Fumikage’s thin wrists. Any and all obscenities his parents threw at him were drowned out by this unbearable pain. Through his sobs, Fumikage began to wonder, was it really worth it? Was it ever worth it? He almost didn’t care. He just wanted it all to be over.

He just wanted the pain, the suffering, the torture, all of it, he just wanted it to go away.

Once the pain died down to the point where it was at least bearable, Fumikage forced himself up on his hands and knees, struggling to keep himself stable on the wet hardwood. Between both the burns, and the quirk cuffs nearly suffocating his wrists, his hands were blistered and swollen. Fumikage locked eyes with his father, who looked down at him, satisfied with his work. Fumikage’s breathing was slow and heavy, as he tried to fight through the pain. “Is…is that all you got?” he managed to choke out. “Two kicks and some hot water? Is that your last line of defense? Seems pretty lackluster if you ask me.” His entire body trembling, Fumikage managed to get to his feet. Steam emitted from his entire upper body, and he was throbbing with pain. That satisfied look on his father’s face suddenly turned to one of pure rage. Without a word, the man walked toward Fumikage, his knife in one hand, and empty glass bottle in the other. Pressing any further in this situation, with this many injuries, Fumikage knew, would be incredibly risky. But then again, heroes are supposed to take risks.

Fumikage forced his beak back into that same twisted grin he wore before, but this time, it was more reluctant. Either way, there was no turning back now.

“Bite me.” he muttered through gritted teeth.

It went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. But that silence was short lived.

Fumikage heard the deafening sound of glass shattering. There was a sudden flash of bright light, leaving as quick as it arrived, and Fumikage’s world became black.

i dont plan on writing any more violent scenes, simply because they’re hard asf to write lmao, so the next part is basically an unneeded time skip because im lazy <3

I'm sure whatever you will write will be perfect!!!

part 5 bitches. or is this part 6? idk this feels like a part 6. anyway proofreading is out the window, it was a long time ago, but either way this might look at but messy. fuck it it’s 3am idc anymore. enjoy.

Fumikage’s eyes opened. His eyelids felt heavy, and his back was stiff, but other than that…he felt no pain. He sat up and looked around. He wasn’t in the linen closet. In fact, it didn’t look like he was in his foster home at all. He looked to be in an apartment. It was on the small side, but it felt…comfortable. The furniture wasn’t dusty, and the air was free of cigarette smoke. Beneath him, was a dark grey couch. He had to have been sleeping on it for a while, as he had shed a single feather onto the fabric of the couch. But either way, Fumikage somehow felt…safe.

Then, he caught something from the corner of his eye. Well, not something, rather, someone. A tall figure, their face and body obscured by shadow, stood in the doorway to the kitchen. The figure began to walk toward him. Their hands were tucked into their pockets, and they stalked toward him, almost tiredly. It felt so…familiar. But Fumikage’s world felt fuzzy. It was hard to tell if what he was seeing was even real. The figure kneeled down in front of him their obscured face looking him in the eyes. He watched their lips move, but there was no sound. Fumikage wanted to speak, but all he heard was his own confused, stuttered breathing.

The figure tilted their head, and their eyebrows furrowed. They reached a hand behind Fumikage’s head, ruffling his crown feathers gently. The figure spoke again, yet Fumikage was still met with silence. The figure’s face, as far as Fumikage could see, was painted with concern. But before Fumikage could make another attempt to speak, another figure appeared from a hallway. They were taller, slimmer, and just like the first one, their body and face was completely obscured. The second figure came over, kneeling next to the first, trying to get Fumikage to say something. Anything. But the world around him was completely silent.

Fumikage felt his vision blur at the edges. What was happening? Who were the people in front of him? Why did they look so worried? His mind was runny by a mile a minute, not knowing where he was, who he was with, and why any of them were there. Fumikage looked around desperately for anything that could pose as a distraction. In the midst of his panic, he saw one of the figure’s shadowy hands reach toward him. Fumikage swatted at the hand and tried to back away, but instead was blocked by the back of the couch. His gaze went back toward the two figures in front of him. Once again, one of them reached toward him, carefully grabbing his arm. The touch felt cold, and staticky, much like how Dark Shadow felt. Fumikage squeezed his eyes shut, and he felt tears run down his cheeks, afraid of what’s to come next. But, much to his surprise, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, holding him tight. Through the haze, Fumikage could finally make out what this person was saying. It was a faint, hollow echo that rang through his ears. “It’s okay, kid. You’re safe.” They said.

Fumikage’s breathing slowed as he lay his head on the figure’s shadowy shoulder. “I’m…safe…” he repeated, almost hypnotically. Then he heard the second figure join in. “That’s right. You don’t have to be scared anymore. You’re in a new home, with a new family.” they said. Their voice was slightly higher, and had a softer tone to it. But those words…

Fumikage lifted his head slightly, just enough to see over the figure’s shoulder. His vision was hazy, and he felt as though he were in a trance.

“Family…” Fumikage whispered. That word…that word alone. ‘Family’. It just felt so…right. As though what Fumikage saw as paradise was finally coming to pass. He felt tears well up in his eyes. But unlike before, he felt tears of relief. For the first time in what felt like years, he really felt safe. Fumikage lifted an arm, and whipped away his tears with his sleeve. When his vision cleared, yet another figure appeared. However, this one was…small. Then Fumikage realized, it was a child. His head tilted as the obscure figure carefully walked over to him. They kept their hands in front of them, almost as if afraid to hurt him. Although Fumikage had relaxed, he still felt dazed, and somehow, his movements almost didn’t feel like his own.

Just like when he reached his arm out toward the child. They were just barely out of reach, but in response, they brought both hands to Fumikage’s, and a smile came to their obscured face. They looked…happy. And for the first time in what Fumikage felt like forever…so did he. He felt a small smile form on his beak. He hated kids. Normally, anyway. But right now…this wasn’t so bad.

He felt the older figure pull away from him, still carefully running their hand through his feathers. The second also leaned back, relaxing a bit. Fumikage lay back against the couch with a sigh, before looking over the three figure’s one last time. Was this really his family…? Hell, whether they were or not, he could get used to it. He just couldn’t help it. After years of pain, years of terror, a family, a kind, loving family, was what Fumikage had always dreamed of.

He eventually felt his eyelids, as well as his whole body, become heavy. He felt his grip on consciousness slowly slip, the world around him slowly swirling into a dark grey void. That same word echoed through his mind throughout, becoming more faint each time he heard it. Family. family….family….

Fumikage’s eyes slowly opened one last time, but this time, he didn’t just feel tired. He felt cold, he felt sore, but above all…he felt uneasy. That cold, painfully familiar feeling washed over him. And painful it was. The second he dared to move, Fumikage felt a sharp pain up his back. He sighed, letting his body relax. He looked up at the ceiling, but couldn’t stop the tears from forming in his eyes.

He was home.

and that’s it. i feel like i use too many commas, but fuck it im sleep deprived i do what i want :D anyway the next part will be done…whenever the fuck i feel like writing it idk lmao

Please sleep, you're doing great!! I too suffer from overuse of commas, but I don't think they hurt too much!!

sigh. part 7. maybe. idgaf anymore lmao

toward the end I pretty much forgot how to write, so this is uh, a mess to say the least. but enjoy I guess? yea

Fumikage slowly sat up, and let his hands fall solemnly in his lap. With his level of pain and exhaustion, it was hard to keep himself stable, and his quirk cuffs acting as six-pound weights wasn’t doing him any favors. Which, now that he noticed, wasn’t the only thing Fumikage was wearing. He felt his quirk collar clamped around his neck, even tighter than before. He was surprised that it hasn’t cut off his airflow by now.

Fumikage brushed off the pain, still in awe by his dream. As abstract as it was, it just felt so…real. Everything around him felt as though it were really there. And those shadow figures….he felt their words, their touch…as strange as it was, it just felt right. Fumikage leaned back against the wall behind him. ‘Dark Shadow…’ he whispered. ‘Did you…feel that? In the dream?’ Within him, Dark Shadow stirred restlessly in response to their host’s bewilderment. ‘Mhm…but…Fumikage? Would it be weird to say I…miss it?’ they asked. That restlessness quickly turned solemn as Dark Shadow deflated a bit, wrapping themself protectively around Fumikage’s rib cage. The teen hummed quietly to himself in thought. ‘Well, as weird as it is, you aren’t alone. I don’t know why but…that dream world just felt so surreal. It was…at least compared to what we’re used to, amazing.’ Fumikage replied. He lay his head against the wall behind him as he felt tears in the back of his eyes. Dark Shadow seemed to mimic his movements in a way, as Fumikage felt them curl within themselves, hugging Fumikage’s ribs tighter. ‘I just want a new family…’ they said, barely a whisper. Fumikage felt tears slowly roll down his cheeks, soaking his feathers. It feels like every day that passes, Fumikage feels more and more isolated. More and more alone. It’s just him and Dark Shadow. It always has been. Fumikage thrives off of his quirk’s company. Dark Shadow is the only reason he’s kept a positive outlook on life throughout his last few painful years. If not for Dark Shadow, Fumikage’s life would have ended long ago. But even with Dark Shadow around, Fumikage couldn’t help but feel lonely. He wanted someone else to talk to. A human to talk to, because let’s face it, Fumikage’s social skills are…underwhelming. He never speaks unless he knows exactly what he’s going to say and when. He comes off more confident that way, because otherwise, he’d let his anxiety get the best of him.

Having a kind, caring family around, and having other people in general around, just made Fumikage feel safer. Even his foster siblings. They all despised him, but when they were around, his parents were less violent with him. There was always less expected of him when there were others around to steal all of the attention. But that didn’t mean Fumikage didn’t want attention, he just didn’t want negative attention. And every foster home he’s been in, year after year, has been exactly that.

He just wanted to feel loved, was that so much to ask?

Fumikage slouched back against the wall, only to quickly regret it as he felt a sharp pain shoot up his side. He sat back up with a groan. What exactly happened to him? He knows he blacked out at some point, but it was hard to tell what happened after. His body was numbed with pain; his back and arms were covered in burns that sting when touched, and he had a large, dark bruise right in the middle of his abdomen.

His memory of the previous night was cloudy, among other things, but he does faintly remember that sharp glint coming from his father’s knife. Fumikage put a hand to the source of the pain, feeling around for anything of interest. The closet was nearly pitch black, and as good as Fumikage was at seeing in the dark, he couldn’t do much other than carefully feel his wounds to make sure there isn’t anything too serious. But at this point, getting out of a punishment unscathed would be a miracle.

Fumikage ran his fingers across what felt like a gash along the side of his waist, approximating the length. He winced at the stinging pain, but kept going nonetheless. The wound went from just above his waist halfway up his chest. Pulling away he felt something warm and wet lining his fingers, which he could only assume was blood, given the stinging pain that shot through his body right after.

The teen let out a low groan in response, before wiping his bloody hand on his jeans. Slumping back against the wall, Fumikage looked as his blood stained hand. Even in the dark linen closet, he could still see the dark, smeared blood stain his palm and fingers. Suddenly he felt a surge of negativity rush through him, and he clenched his bloodied fist. Was it disgust? Frustration? Or just pure, justified, rage? It was always so hard, just trying to identify this one, burning, unbearable emotion. Fumikage felt it so often but could never tell what he was really feeling. Dark Shadow growled in reponse to their host, growing increasingly larger, metaphorically, desperately wanting to break free and release this unbearable surge of negativity. It didn’t take long before Fumikage boiled over, and slammed his fist against the wall behind him, causing the paint to crack and a dent to form in the wall. Fumikage looked to the wall next to him, and the result of his outburst. And just like that, he deflated, completely, and utterly, defeated. Defeated from what? It was hard to tell.

The teen choked out a sob, curling up within himself, burying his face in his knees.

Just one more day.

yeah. that’s it. short and painful sweet. no comments, bc i cant think of any. next part coming in uh….idk like a month? who’s to say lmao

I absolutely loved this!! I am so happy you shared this! The writing was phenomenal and this is such an interesting take on Tokoyami’s past. It has the perfect dose of angst~

I hope everyone else enjoys this as much as I did!

#bnha #tokoyami #tokoyami fumikage #tw child trauma #tw child abuse #tw pain #angst tw #angst #pain

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goat-yells-at-everything · 3 years ago

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All this Coke vs Pepsi discourse never made sense to me. Like, each brand is very different and offers different products! So here is my definitive totally objective subjective list of good and bad Pepsi and Coke products. Im not including the long list of extra flavors because I havnt had most of them and many dont have parallels between the two.

OG Pepsi = OG Coke: both are good in different ways

Diet Pep > Diet Coke: Diet Coke has a gross after taste

Coke Zero = Pepsi Zero: while neither one tastes like the original but both are good. HOWEVER Coke changed the recipe of Coke Zero so now Pepsi Zero does taste better but CZ is still pretty ok.

Cherry Coke >>>> Pepsi Wild Cherry: Period. End of. WC Pepsi is DIRT compared to Cherry Coke.

Mt Dew = Mello Yello: not a huge difference between the two

Sprite = Sierra Mist: Ill preface this by saying OG SM is GARBAGE but they changed the recipe and its actually pretty good now. Sprite is still the better soda for when you're sick, tho.

Honorable Mentiones:

Code Red Mt Dew: amazing. Love it. Delicious

Dr Pepper/Mr Pib: dirt. Both are dirt. With ONE exception: DP with Cream Soda is pretty damn good.

Diet everything except OG diets: garbage

Me Dew Lemon Lime: caffinated Sprite. I honestly don't know how to feel about it. I like Sprite but you can FEEL the caffine surge from the LLDew and it just feels weird?

Cherry Coke Zero: fucking PERFECT.

So there. Pepsi isn't better than Coke and Coke isn't better than Pepsi.

#goat yells about soda?#coke #Pepsi #discorse

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just-the-hiddles · 4 years ago

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Writer’s Spotlight | myoxisbroken

Happy hump day, peeps! This week’s spotlight is the queen of a historical fic, AU or canon. The maven of food porn in a fic. And the reigning champ of teasing me with smut @myoxisbroken ! Let’s dive in!!

The Basics

MASTERLIST HERE

Any other names you want people to call you?

Miss Ox, myox, whatever you feel like!

How long have you been writing fic?

2 years.

What fandoms and/ships do you write?

MCU (Loki, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes), other Tom Hiddleston characters (Pine, Conrad, Sharpe, Buxton, Nicholls, Plumptre, and ever-growing), and just branching out into Pedro Pascal with The Mandalorian; I also have a few Doctor Who fics in my Masterlist (Ten/Donna Noble)

How did you get started writing fic?

I was reading a ton of Doctor Who fic and enjoying the Doctor/River Song stories. Then I rewatched DW season 4 and was so depressed about Donna's ending that I immediately watched the David Tennant/Catherine Tate version of Much Ado About Nothing. And then I started to ship the Tenth Doctor and Donna.

So I read a bunch of their fic and thought, "You know what would be awesome? If someone wrote a WW2 AU where Donna's a single mother and the Doctor is an injured fighter pilot that she takes in as a boarder." And then I started to get snippets of dialogue in my head, and ideas for scenes, and I wondered if I might be able to write a story myself. I hadn't written anything in years, but I decided to give it a try. And a few months later, I had my first story completed, a 14-chapter Doctor Who AU.

After that, I had the writing bug and I haven't been able to stop coming up with ideas and working to put them into words!

Story Recommendations

Which of your stories are your favorite?

It is honestly so hard to choose. I'm only going to choose completed works, because I always love the WIPs I'm working on. So, let's see: You Bring Me Home is one of them, because it was so fun to just jump into a sexy vacation romp with some playful kink exploration for James Conrad (Kong: Skull Island). With Brooding Wings was my first attempt at a vampire story using multiple Tom Hiddleston characters, and I really enjoyed playing with the dynamics of different personalities and settings in that world.

In A Restless World Like This Is is another, because I had such a great time writing a fluffy love story for Steve Rogers and an older OFC. It started as a spite project because of someone's objections to older characters and turned into such a lovely experience. It was one of the easiest I've ever written in terms of how quickly it flowed from my brain through my fingers. I'd loved writing for Loki (An Excellent Suggestion was my first Loki story, and my first time writing smut) and for Bucky (We Are All Victims of Physics Sometimes was my first dip into capturing Bucky's quiet reserve and depth of emotion).

I honestly could go on and on about stories but would only sound more conceited.

Which story are you most proud of?

I think A Pursuit of the Heart. It was my first time writing in the Regency/Georgian era, and I did a TON of research for it. It was also my first novel-length story, and I didn't even know if I could take on something that big or write a historical romance convincingly, in a way that felt era-appropriate and true. I was so proud of the finished product.

Which of your stories do you think is the most underrated?

Let Your Heart Be Light, a Bucky/OFC story with a Christmas theme - its companion piece, Kissing The New Year In, also didn't get much traction. But I loved writing them!

Someone is new to reading your stories, which story/stories should they read first?

It depends on what actors and characters they like, really, as well as if they like smut or fluff or both. For a smutty one-shot, I'd recommend An Excellent Suggestion (which has a one-shot sequel). For a swoonier longer fic with smut, I'd recommend either You Bring Me Home or my fake relationship Steve Rogers fic The One Thing You Can't See.

For fluff, An Unforeseen Outcome is a Loki one-shot with both fluff and a little emotional hurt/comfort. Interestingly, I've written more not-smut fluff for Loki than for any other character. I think I just want him to find connection and love and acceptance so much.

And if you are a fan of historical romance, I'd recommend either my Thomas Sharpe AU A Compromising Situation, or if you like your fics with a healthy dose of angst, Beside Us When Beauty Brightens, my William Buxton (Return to Cranford) story about what happens after he loses Peggy.

Which Story did you do the most research for?

A Pursuit of the Heart, since it was my first one set in the Georgian era and I had a lot of catching up to do! I research for most of my stories, and definitely for my multi-chapter stories. Even if they're contemporary, I still look up resorts, locations, restaurants and local foods, things to do, etc. I can't help it. It's like I'm addicted to research.

Which Story was the easiest to write?

For a multi-chapter fic, In A Restless World Like This Is. For a one-shot, probably my Loki Christmas fluff All I Want For Christmas Is You.

The Writing Process

What is your favorite part of writing?

When a scene I've had in my head just flies out of my fingers and onto the page, and I can read it back and think, "YES! That's just how I wanted it!"

What is your least favorite part?

When my brain is too scattered and unfocused to actually allow me to do any writing.

Describe your style in 1 to 2 sentences.

Well-researched stories that use the information to make you feel like you're there and that incorporate sweetness into even the smuttiest scenario. Also, food porn, and porn porn.

Who are some of your writing idols and/or influences?

For published novels, Mary Balogh and Sabrina Jeffries are two of my favorite historical romance writers, and I think that reading them has helped to make my writing better. In terms of fic authors (some of whom are also published), @nildespirandum and @caffiend-queen were two of the first I read in the Tom/Loki fandom and their excellent quality and intriguing plots are an inspiration, even if I will never be able to write plots as twisty as theirs. Also, reading @yespolkadotkitty's stories helped me push myself to get better at setting scenes and at incorporating the various senses into stories, because she is so good at both of those things and so much else.

What programs do you use to write and/or edit?

I use Google Docs. I have also been dancing around buying Scrivener for an original novel I plan to write and shop around, so I'll be doing that soon.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Plotter, for sure. My brain would implode if I tried to pants my stories.

Do you write RPF or not?

I have a few chapters of a Tom Hiddleston RPF in draft form but haven't proceeded with it. I'd kind of like to write a Pedro Pascal RPF one-shot. I love reading RPF but feel odd about writing it for some reason.

Who is your favorite character to write and why?

Again with the tough questions! It might be Loki, because he is such a chameleon and there are so many hidden depths to him. I really want to write some multi-chapter Loki stories, because so far I have done one-shots and one 3-chapter short fic. I'd like to explore a longer character arc for him.

What do you think are your writing strengths?

Authenticity because of my research, realistically depicting emotions, and writing in a style that feels genuine to the setting and era.

What do you struggle with?

PLOT. I do think that there is plenty of room for all kinds of stories, and I like to tell stories about relationships. But I would like to get better at adding outside conflict and other types of plot to my stories.

Favorite Trope?

It's so hard to choose between There Was Only One Bed and Fake Relationship. I think those are my top two.

What is the best piece of writing advice you have heard?

Write something. Anything. Even if you think it's crap, get your first draft done, because you can always go back and rewrite something that's bad and make it better. Also, if you're stuck on your WIP, write something else - a piece of another story or one-shot, a description of something you saw, a character profile, a bit of personal journaling. Keep writing and don't let a temporary roadblock turn into a long-term one.

What would you say to a new fanfic writer starting out?

It's hard when something you wrote doesn't get a lot of attention, especially when you love it. We share stories in the hopes that other people will discover and enjoy them, but you have to at least partly do it for your own satisfaction, or it will get pretty discouraging if the likes/kudos, comments, and reblogs just don't happen.

What is a random bit of research you have not managed to work into a fic yet?

Ladies' drawers (underwear) were not commonly worn until the mid-1800s. They were thought to be gentlemen's garments and it was thus vulgar for a lady to wear them. Yes, ladies of the Georgian (incl. Regency) era were generally commando beneath their skirts, petticoats, and shifts. But that was still a lot of layers.

Any goals or WIPs you want to share?

My goal is to write an original novel (series) set during the Napoleonic Wars. My hope is to get it researched, written, and put in final draft form so that I can send query letters out before the end of 2021.

This or That

Fluff or Angst

Fluff AND Smut

Reader Insert or OC

Canon Divergent or AU

Pepsi or Coke (Neither: Cherry Coke Zero)

Coffee or Tea (Neither: Cocoa)

Sweet AND Savory

And that is it, until next week, remember to check out the masterlist here. And your new fav fic is just around the corner! Until next time, toodles!

#writer's spotlight #myoxisbroken #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki #loki fanfiction

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ladyeliot · 4 years ago

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The headache

Based on “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong” [80s]

Pairing: Teen!Tony Stark x Teen!Reader [Murph Lindon] / Teen!Natasha Romanoff x Teen!Reader

Summary: Alternative Universe. Who hasn't had a little note conversation with a friend during the most boring lesson? And how many times have you been caught?

Warnings: Sexual innuendos. Enemies to lovers.

Word count: 1438

A/N: I Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Thursday mornings were Mr. Hoover's Geography class, one of the most boring classes the seniors had to endure during the week. The only thing that could ease Murph's suffering was that he shared it with his friends, but that wasn't enough to keep him from wanting to jump out the window and fall two stories down. The faces of each of his companions evidenced the same thoughts, but Natasha seemed to have found entertainment because of the smile on her face. Murph stared at her friend, who sat two rows ahead, diagonal to her, and it was at that very moment that her friend turned and threw with great aim a small circular piece of paper, which landed on her desk. That meant that the conversation through notes between Natasha and Murph was beginning.

"I'm still thinking about what you told me last night. I can't believe you're going to do it on Saturday morning ;)"

Her handwriting was tiny, she had a great ability to make it so that if someone picked up the note they could barely read what she had written. Murph frowned and denied to herself, crossed out Nat's words, so that if anyone picked up the paper they wouldn't know what the conversation was about, and wrote below.

"What are you talking about, who said 'it' was going to happen on Saturday?"

Murph's aim was not quite as accurate, but the note fell right at Nat's feet, who picked up the paper as Mr. Hoover turned away. Murph fiddled with the pen between her fingers as she waited for her friend to return the paper.

"Open your eyes, H. didn't invite you to his house to study, but to 'study'."

Again Murph denied to herself, though a goofy grin was professed on her face as she answered that note.

"Justin's not like that."

The moment he handed the note back to Natasha he realised that he had broken one of the main rules of inter-note conversations, writing a full name. Luckily Natasha got hold of the paper before anyone else did. It took Natasha only a few seconds to read the note and return it to Murph, but unfortunately she was not so good at throwing it that time, and it landed right at the feet of Murph's sidekick, Tony.

Tony had been keeping a close eye on their conversation, for as mentioned earlier, this was the most boring class of the week. Thus, he only had to extend his left foot a few centimetres to draw the note towards him. A heat flooded Murph's body, and he threw a kick in his direction, trying to hit his shin, but his partner on the right deftly dodged it, catching the note between his toes.

"Don't even think about reading it Stark, you read it and you're a dead man." He whispered through his teeth, noting the wide grin of arrogance on Tony's face.

"Why not?" he asked quietly with the paper in his hands. "What is it that's so interesting that keeps you two so entertained?"

Slowly and without wiping off that lopsided smile, he unfolded the little note. Murph found himself tense, under the watchful eye of Natasha, who had realised what the situation was. Mr. Hoover's voice had become background noise, he barely remembered his presence. She gripped the table tightly, having faith that Tony wouldn't do it, but he did, Tony's fingers increased their speed as he opened the paper and turned his gaze to those letters.

She couldn't help it, finally leaping up at Tony, trying to knock the paper out of his hands, starting a fight in the middle of Geography class. The scuffle brought noises with it, catching the attention of their classmates and also Mr. Hoover, who stopped writing on the blackboard and looked at the two of them.

"What the hell is going on!" he exclaimed, dropping the chalk on his desk. "Miss Lindon! Take your seat immediately."

Though her fight was austere, Murph was finally able to get the note completely out of her hands, for which she was proud of herself. Mr. Hoover directed her steps towards them, prostrating himself between the two tables and holding out his palm.

"Give me right now what you just took from Mr. Stark," he said sternly.

It took him a couple of seconds to consider what other alternatives he had, it even crossed his mind to eat the damn paper, but it would probably make it worse.

"Mr. Hoover I-" Natasha started to say, but the professor's stern look silenced her.

"Miss Lindon..." he asked again, holding out his palm to her.

She finally gave in and placed the note in the palm of her teacher's hand, who was quick to put it back together and read it carefully. Murph stared straight ahead, avoiding making eye contact with any of his classmates, while biting his tongue to vent his inner anger.

"Miss Lindon, I'm glad you're meeting Mr. Hammer to study on Saturday, but I'd like you to attend to my lectures during my class time.

As Murph listened to those words his face grew pinker, in the background he could hear how most of his classmates seemed to be amused by the situation.

"Since you have been entertaining me during my two hours of class, I hope you will inform me that you will not be able to keep your appointment with Mr. Hammer on Saturday morning,'' he said, ''I want you in the detention room first thing in the morning.

Those words brought a smile to Tony's face, who was one of many who seemed to be amused by the situation.

"And you don't smile so much Mr. Stark, because you're going with her."

"Excuse me Professor, but I-" suddenly the expression on his face changed.

"Any objections?" asked Mr. Hoover, looking at him intently, to which Tony chose to bite his tongue and deny with his face, giving him a broad, false smile. "Great."

The only person who didn't seem to grasp what was happening 100% was Steve, who watched the situation from the outside with a frown on his face, while Natasha, who was standing next to him, tried to explain to him what had happened. The class continued and Murph's anger at Tony's stupidity returned.

When the two and a half hours were up Murph gathered his things, getting up from his seat and slapping the back of Tony's head with his book before heading for the exit door of the classroom.

"Hey!" exclaimed Tony.

"Idiot," Natasha retorted before walking out of the classroom.

"You better not talk," her friend reproached. "I could have ratted you out."

Murph made it to the lockers and a second later Nat landed beside him.

"How can you hate a person so much?" he asked rhetorically. "It's unbearable, it's the sight of him and I get a headache, like a pain that comes and goes you know?"

Natasha looked at her guiltily, listening to her friend's rant as she helped her put her books away.

"Murph, I'm so sorry about what happened..."

"No! It's not your fault, it's that idiot Stark!" she slammed her locker shut. "I swear, if I could, I'd make him disappear from the universe right now."

After those words she let out all the air in her lungs, trying to relax. They both headed towards the cafeteria, where Steve was already holding his seat.

"Can someone explain to me what was in that note?" asked Steve in annoyance.

"You know you're the only one who attends class?" said Natasha looking at him.

"Hey, I thought today's class was interesting," he defended himself, but returned to the initial topic. "Hey, what was on that note?"

Murph shook his hand in denial, downplaying the fact that it had happened, he needed to change the subject otherwise he knew his bad mood was going to be there all day.

"You'd better not push it, Murph has headaches that come and go," Nat commented with a smile.

At that moment Tony made his stellar entrance into the cafeteria with a broad smile, greeting a few students at various tables and giving a kiss on the cheek to one of the cheerleaders.

"Look, here comes the headache again." Nat smiled opening his can of Pepsi watching as Tony approached from the distance.

You can follow the story at “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong”

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grandhotelabyss · 3 years ago

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The summer before high school, a hot evening, 1996. A group of us, five or seven, hanging out at somebody’s house after a day at the public pool. No parents, but we were a touch too young even for underage drinking, so potato chips and Pepsi in the still-chlorinated haze. We were a mixed company of social types: cheerleader, proto-stoner, the studious, the artsy, the athletic. (We went to a Catholic school too small for strictly segregated cultural castes.) The topic of what would now in the mandatory therapeutic vernacular be called suicidal ideation arose. We agreed we’d all had such thoughts from time to time, even the athlete, even the cheerleader, never enough to act on, of course, but the occasional real fantasy, certainly a sense that, faced with some obstacles, existential (there are days when it all seems pointless) but also mundane (wouldn’t it be better not to have to do this school work?), it might feel good to drift away forever, as we did temporarily every night. One person in the group objected. She said she’d never thought such things and couldn’t even imagine thinking them; her briefly widened eyes showed alarm at being alone with a group of people she suddenly understood to be some kind of dangerous nihilists. And we in turn all looked at her with surprise and pity, as if she were out of her mind, as if she were (assuming she wasn’t just a pious hypocrite) a person mysteriously and poignantly insensible to the full range of human feeling.

#suicide

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zet-sway · 4 years ago

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3, 6, and 12 for the fic writer asks?

!!! Thank you for the ask :D

3. Because i know we’re all egocentric, have you ever made yourself laugh out loud or cry with a fic you wrote?

I can't stop thinking about this WIP I'm working on where Shepard says "God fucking damn it you insubordinate reptile, you know what I want." Because Thane's been teasing her for just a bit longer than she has patience for (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

6. What is your favourite sense to incorporate in your writing and why?

Tough question actually. The cop-out answer is touch, because hahaha I'm a smut writer first and foremost. But I think it's worth considering that I don't give enough attention to other senses, like taste and sound and scent. I personally don't have a very strong sense of taste or smell - I can't honestly tell the difference between coke and pepsi, for example - so it's kind of hard for me. What the fuck do space lovers smell like? My favorite description is in this fic by orchidcactus: "he smells like leather and spent heat sinks." How could I hope to write something better than that? Omg

Still, I should make more of an effort to include other senses to round out my writing.

12. what headcanon will you keep implementing in your fics, even if canon ends up contradicting it?

Ok before I begin, I'd like to say that these are just my headcanons. I don't have any kind of vendetta against writers whose headcanons conflict with mine. I love reading different takes on this stuff and sometimes, those other ideas are very inspiring!

Mature themes inbound. 18+ headcanons.

Headcanon: Drell women without boobs. I know some people don't agree with this - my intention isn't to fight with them. This is my headcanon and what I choose to represent in my writing.

Headcanon: Thane's dick is purple 💜 because I like it. Actually this is inspired heavily by the afamed masskink anon (*ahem* "florid magenta spike" yes please - link is extremely smutty) and that mshrios artist who drew sheploo going down on Thane. I used to have their work on my blog but then Tumblr went all prude so... :( But drell are so colorful, why not have colorful genitals too? Also, bonus headcanon for the ole' genital sheath. I also fully embrace pretty much all headcanons about hemipenes because I'm a fucking savage, but I don't write about them for a few reasons. For one, I'm lazy and it's enough work keeping track of one dick. Another reason: I (usually) keep descriptions of Thane's 'nads vague so the reader can proceed with their own headcanon.

Headcanon: "drell venom" is present in bodily fluids and transmitted most easily through mucous membranes. Basically: Shep could be getting high by kissing Thane, getting head, or uh, swallowing or otherwise "taking a load" lol. I know Mordin says "oral contact" but I dunno it's just more fun to think of Shepard tripping balls because Thane didn't pull out. Ok I've said too much lmao (• ▽ •;)

Headcanon: Thane enjoys killing. Before anyone freaks out, I don't mean he's like, a serial killer or gets off on it or whatever. But I think he finds a certain kind of comfort in knowing what he's good at. I don't agree with his statement that "a weapon doesn't choose to kill." He's a man with a conscience, he knows what he's doing. And he can probably justify it fairly well as long as his targets are objectively evil people. But otherwise, I think he makes excuses for himself because he struggles to come to terms with his disturbing level of comfort in taking out targets. If you take him to Tuchanka he makes a comment about how the krogan have almost childlike innocence and are "at peace with the urge to kill." I think it's kind of unfair he was trained at such a young age to kill, and I think that affects a lot of how he sees his job. I also think people are right to be critical of the Hanar. At least he's trying to do good deeds by the time you meet him? I dunno but he needs to figure his shit out.

Headcanon: there's a black market on Rakhana for drell lungs. However, that's all I'm gonna say. More on that as I continue my Thane survives AU.

Dang that was a lot ok. Thank you for the ask! I had fun with this :D

#this ended up way longer than i was expecting #ask meme #thanks for the ask! this was super fun!#ask zet sway #drell and kahje headcanon tag

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bird-in-a-cage · 5 years ago

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Hey, guess what, its a sequel that absolutely no one asked for but I’m forcing upon you anyway because I got really into this idea and one google search led to another and I needed to get this out of my brain!

Part one is here. Probably best to give it a read first so you know what the hell is going on. But, for everyone who has already done that here’s part two of California Dreamin’. Enjoy some spectrophilia!

Lucid

The adults only section of Family Video was always a hive of sleaze. Most of the time though, thankfully, it was empty. Steve could always tell when someone would first walk through the door if that was their intended destination or not. They would stop, check out other titles, pick up a case of two from the shelves and roll it over in their hands, very visibly debating with themselves, all the while slowly but surely making their way to the back corner where it was all hidden behind a thick beaded curtain to give the illusion of privacy. The reality was it was never private. There was a camera in the top corner, blinking red and bright. A deterrent.

That didn’t stop some people though.

Robin was on Twizzler duty again, now doing it everyday to piss Keith off, seeing how far she could push until he snapped but in her own way. A drop of water slowly breaking through a mountain. It was kind of fun really, to watch her loudly eat the red candy but not give any eye contact to him as he walked around the store every now and then, giving all her attention to a copy of The Turning of the Screw. It did mean Steve was on return box duty again though while they had their little silent war. Robin mouthed thank you as he went off to start, then went back to being as unbothered as ever.

Steve took the two cases that were left after he’d done the rest of the store and dipped through the thick beads. Thankfully today the room just smelt like hot plastic rather than suspect body odour. One side of the small room was horror movies deemed too graphic and violent to be put on public display. Video Nasties. Steve had rented a couple a few times, they weren’t all that scary or good, but then he was probably just biased to that situation, having dealt with real life monsters that wanted to eat him and kill everybody and take over the world. On the other side were pornos.

Why anyone would publicly rent a porno tape he would never understand. Maybe some people just didn’t have an imagination. Watching one was just fine, no problems with that at all, and it was common practice for a dirty magazine or two to be passed around the locker room as a joke, but actually walking into a store with the intention of just renting a tape to jack off too? No, Steve couldn’t understand that. Probably because the shame of having to do it would burn him alive, but that was another matter. He slotted a case into a mid level shelf, a Terminator parody so wittily titled Penetrator, all these tapes had such awful names, when a case lower down started making its way out from the shelf. Steve rubbed over the pendant under his shirt, it was ice cold.

Of course he’d visit now.

With a grin he couldn’t hide even for a second, Steve nudged it back into place with his foot. Another title further up poked out. Mad Max: Beyond Thunderbone. Steve shoved it back home too.

“Cut it out,” he muttered low only so no one could hear him if anyone was close by. He was still grinning though, so much his cheeks started to burn a little. Another case slowly wiggled free and stuck out at eye level. For Your Ass Only. Steve bit his lip so he wouldn’t giggle and give the specter that followed him the satisfaction, pushing it back in place with two fingers. A final case at shoulder height was brought out into the light of day. Risky Jizzness.

“You wanna tell me why this looks like you pretty boy?” The voice floated around Steve’s head, deep and sultry. Billy was in one of those moods. Steve pushed it back into place and kept his almost whisper tone.

“Because my boyfriend is a ghost and I’ve gone completely insane so staring in a porno was the next logical step, obviously.” Steve felt a warmth envelop his chest, leaving his arms free to rearrange tapes and put the final one from the box back in its place. It was instantly comforting and a little tight. Easy to imagine Billy just stood behind him, holding him for real in the middle of his work day, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder and being a distraction from the monotony of stacking video tapes in alphabetical order.

“You should have mentioned that was your end goal, I’d have been more than happy to hold the camera.”

“Uh huh, sure, cause that’s all you would be holding.” He could feel Billy’s dirty grin burn his cheek, heat pressing and creeping up along his jaw like slow kisses.

“You know it baby.”

Steve still wasn’t sure on a lot of things about this, whatever this was. Whether anyone could hear what Billy was saying was a big point. He tended not to come out if there were other people around so it wasn’t as if Steve could test it. Even if he could he would look totally crazy, which he still wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t anymore. His mental state was one of those things he didn’t think about too hard. Like the Cold War, or being sucked back into dark, monster filled tunnels. Their presence was always there but it didn’t affect his day to day life so much. If anything, Billy following him around some days made Steve happier. More at peace. Of course it raised a lot of questions like why and how, and why and how again because there would definitely need to be several rounds of why and how before anything even started to make sense.

Then there was the where. Billy didn’t think he was in hell, was pretty sure he wasn’t in heaven, and wasn’t entirely sold that he was in the middle place either. They spoke about it sometimes when Steve slept and was whisked away to either the quarry or the beach, wherever Billy wanted to be that night. Steve kind of liked the beach more, it was always bright but not hot, calm and tranquil. It felt almost like a little vacation away from Hawkins. They would always lie next to each other on brightly coloured beach towels. Steve had never seen Billy in the lime green board shorts he liked to wear on beach nights, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Even if Steve was stuck wearing what he wore to sleep and looked ridiculous by comparison. There was never anyone else there to judge.

That was just another thing they hadn’t quite worked out yet. Turns out no one gives you an instruction manual when you die and become a spirit just floating around, stick in limbo. You kind of just have to figure things out yourself. Billy had worked out how to change his clothes and the landscape of where he pulled Steve too. He hadn’t yet worked out how he did that though.

“I just, think, and here we are.”

He’d worked out how to pick things up and put them down, push and pull and throw. Steve would sometimes leave objects on the kitchen counter for Billy to touch and move, getting such a thrill just seeing an empty Pepsi can be flipped onto its side and rolled away with a hollow clatter into the trash can on the other side of the room. Steve had suggested that maybe Billy was stuck until he found his purpose, but neither of them could think what that would be. Max was fine every time she came into the store to just hang around, get a break from the noise of the arcade next door, and let Robin suggest scary movies she should watch even though she wasn’t old enough to rent them yet. There was never a mark on her, which is what Billy was worried about but would never say out loud. He always pretended to be such an asshole and that he didn’t care, when he was blatantly obvious he did.

“Maybe you have to save a baby or something? You know, push a stroller out of the way of oncoming traffic?” Steve suggested while they were on the beach. Billy pushed himself up off his towel printed with lavender stripes onto his hands to look down. The sun was shimmering off his forever perfect body.

“This isn’t the 30s. And I’m pretty sure that only happened in silent movies,” he smiled like Steve was an idiot. An adorable idiot. His adorable idiot. Steve reached up to cup Billy’s jaw. That golden skin still felt numb under his fingers. They would need to work on that.

“Pretty sure that us being here right now means anything is possible.”

They’d both worked out that the pendant turning icy cold instead of just its regular cold meant Billy was close by instead of just in the general vicinity, still invisible sadly but his presence was there. Small steps. They were slowly piecing it together. It wasn’t as if either of them had any time limit on it all. But really, a manual would have been helpful. Even a small information pamphlet written in Chinese was better than the nothing they had.

---

Billy was still in that mood that night. Even as Steve’s clock ticked around to three am and he still couldn’t sleep. He lay on his stomach, staring at the hands move slow around the face. He wanted to sleep so badly, he could feel the gentle pull around his chest come see me, I miss you but no matter how hard he tried it just wasn’t happening. Maybe it was too warm out, the air too soupy to properly relax into sleep and drift away. The sheets were long kicked to his ankles. He could feel Billy getting restless. The pendant felt like it was frozen, trapped between his chest and the sheets. Steve tried one more time, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping to just be hypnotised by the soft monotonous tick tick tick. But five minutes later he was as awake as ever. He kept his eyes shut though. Wishful.

The warmth left his chest and became more direct, felt like a hand stroking his back over his t-shirt, drifting up, rubbing the back of his neck and through his hair. Steve couldn’t help the small purr that gathered in his throat. He was a sucker for having his hair played with. By anyone. With permission obviously.

“I’m sorry Bill,” he mumbled into his pillow, head still turned towards the clock. “I’m trying...”

Steve didn’t get a response. He wasn’t really expecting one, sometimes Billy didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. It was just another thing they hadn’t worked out yet. In truth he wasn’t sure if his words were more for his spector boyfriend’s sake or his own. The hand pressed firmer. Steve easily imagined those tan fingers rubbing the little spot behind his ear. It definitely felt real enough to fool his brain that the other side of his bed wasn’t completely cold and empty. A gentle pull on his shoulder had Steve laying flat on his back, eyes still closed towards the ceiling.

“You’re making this harder you know…”

He felt heat on his cheek, across his jaw, over his lips. Kisses he couldn’t reciprocate no matter how much he wanted to. One hand became two, felt over his chest like they had done so many times before. Steve knew their pattern. What those blue eyes once liked to see. He chuckled and peeled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor.

“There. Happy now?”

Steve didn’t get a verbal response. Instead the touches became hotter, drifting over his skin with purpose, invisible fingers raking through his coarse chest hair, pressing and circling slow around his nipples. The heat left his face and worked its way down, across his now exposed collarbones one by one, his skin prickling as they crossed his body in two perfect lines. With his eyes closed it was so easy to imagine Billy was there. He kind of was. Steve moaned softly for him. One hand continued its way down, pressing over the waistband of Steve’s briefs. He chuckled again, putting his hand where he felt the pressure, slipping his fingers under the material, plucking them off his hip and circling towards his middle.

“You want these off too?”

Steve giggled a little, feeling nibbles on his earlobe, the phantom hand rubbing slow and firm over his lower stomach, through his happy trail. The air felt thicker still as his body got excited from all the direct but indirect attention. Steve definitely felt like he was being watched. He kind of liked being watched like this. He kicked his briefs off into the bundle of sheets at the foot of the bed, already half hard. He pictured Billy’s smirk, his tongue poking out from between his teeth in approval and arousal. It made Steve grin in return to the empty room as he flopped his arms up above his head to touch the underside of the headboard, reminding him that this was real, he hadn’t drifted off to sleep quite yet.

That seemed to get Billy’s blessing. The kisses placed to the side of Steve’s neck were searing. It felt so real, felt like sucking and that wicked tongue lapping over his skin to make bright red marks everyone would see, high under Steve’s jaw. They caused his dick to kick. He groaned feeling a hand suddenly around it. Thick and strong, pumping up and down with little abandon. The friction was delicious. Impossibly so. He was soon completely hard, pointing up towards his stomach, the first few drops of pre hitting his skin. Everything felt so real. The kisses moved back to his lips, desperate and pressing and wanting. Steve opened his mouth and felt a tongue slide along his own, dragging out sounds from his throat that sounded alien even to him, as he kept getting stroked and played with like a toy. Hips bucking up into a memory of Billy’s hand, tight and firm, thumb pressing along an underside vein.

Then there was nothing. Steve panted in the dark, left teetering on the edge of almost there but not enough. But then there was pressure on his shoulders, hands hanging on, thumbs rubbing in circles where his collar bones ended. Steve gripped the headboard tighter before his cock was pressing into an ever familiar tightness he could never forget. Even with his eyes shut they still rolled into the back of his head, a groan escaping his lips before the tongue was back, capturing and swallowing his sounds of pleasure. His cock sunk further and further until there was nothing more to push into.

“Jesus…” Steve managed to get out somehow, voice ripped and cracking deep. “You gonna bounce for me baby?”

He could picture that grin, a deep flush high on those freckle covered cheeks, eyes dark with desire and want before the movement happened. Steve felt his brain just about stop. It had certainly stopped trying to make sense of what was happening to him. Billy bouncing on his lap was one of his most favourite things. The way his chest glistened with sweat, the way his stomach pulled tight, pushing his abs further on display, the way his hair would stick to his forehead, the way his athletic thighs would clamp around Steve’s hips. Even though he was taking Billy was still definitely the one in control.

Steve moved his hands from under the headboard, felt fingers lock between his own almost immediately as the drag on his cock got faster, more desperate, less rhythmic and far less precise. He started muttering things to space that’s it baby, just like that, keep going I’m so close, his head started swimming as the heat low in his gut started to pull tight and impending. Steve wanted to keep going though, keep feeling all of this for as long as possible. The hands heavy on his own. The scorching kisses over his cheek and neck and lips. The impossible warmth and tightness around his cock, dragging and pushing quicker and harder. To just keep picturing Billy’s strong hips working and rolling, his thick cock aching and desperate to be touched but keeping Steve pinned so it couldn’t be, pre pooling into his belly button.

Steve came over his stomach with a cry.

The kisses over his jaw were warm instead of hot as he panted hard, chest heaving and heart rapid, skin shiny with exertion. One hand holding his own was the only feeling that remained as his cock fell lip over his hip. An unmistakable smell of smoke suddenly filled the air after what would most definitely have been two clicks of a zippo with a homemade etching of a skull on the side. Steve couldn’t help but laugh tired and worn out.

“God you’re an asshole.”

Warm arms clamped on around Steve’s chest again, the gentle pull. Come see me, I miss you, I love you. Steve was just about tired enough this time to fall.

#harringrove #my writings #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #cross posted to ao3 #ghost smut #steve x billy

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