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cyberrat · 2 years ago

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62nd Batch of Fics: 10th Fill

Reaper/Soldier76 – Part ½ – reunion; emotional – Old men in love.

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“You sure you don’t want to come up here?” Jack murmurs, hand moving underneath Gabriel’s chin to briefly hold it before slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth over his goatee.

Gabriel just hums. He sounds listless but his expression is calm… downright serene when Jack leans forward a little to peer into his face. The fire paints distracting, flickering shadows over his old partner’s face. It’s not necessarily flattering at times but it makes him pause to stare even so.

Even after all these years Gabriel is gorgeous. A large predatory cat, now old and tame as he lets himself get pet by Jack, going as far as to putting the weight of his head into his hands.

He’d never really anticipated retirement to be something that is feasible for people in their line of work – or that he would enjoy it for that matter… but Gabriel keeps the both of them plenty busy.

Just today they’ve done a long hike toward this cabin out in the middle of nowhere. Mostly in silence because that’s how Gabriel just is these days. Not in a hostile way, at least.

“You’re pretty weird again,” Jack mutters finally. He lightly squeezes his legs around Gabriel’s shoulders, short nails scratching beneath his chin in a hypnotizingly slow rhythm. “I can’t believe you that the floor is supposed to be more comfortable than the couch. I get back pain just looking at you.”

That, at least, gets him a reaction, albeit only a half-assed sounding: “Age finally catching up with you?”

Gabriel’s usually smooth voice is rough with disuse. He shifts a little until he can put his head against Jack’s knee, his only concession to becoming more comfortable, apparently.

Jack sighs and puts his hands on his shoulders, rubbing them but not bothering him any more. He’s a grown man… he will know best what is and isn’t comfortable to him.

In any case it feels good to have Gabriel lean on him. He can’t say when the last time was that he felt it. It seems… special in a way, but his mind shies away from thinking about it too much. It feels weird to be entertaining thoughts of ‘it is special’ and ‘it is right’ in his age. He is suitably sure that Hana would be laughing her head off if she knew about it. It is something more fit to a teenager than a grizzled soldier.

They stay sitting in front of the fire for a good while longer, listening to the banged-up radio that they take everywhere quietly playing. He’s surprised that it even has reception out here in the middle of nowhere, but he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

By the time he starts to nod off, Gabriel begins to shift and pull away from him to slowly get up on his feet and stretch, joints cracking in a very satisfying manner.

They get ready for bed. Gabriel has crawled in before him but he is waiting, his dark eyes almost glowing in the moonlight that peeks in through the drawn curtain.

Jack pauses, standing there in his underwear and allowing himself to feel the excited prickle on the back of his neck. It would be a lie if he said that he isn’t insanely interested in Gabriel 24/7. He has been when they were younger and he still is now, a good thirty-plus years later, so very ready to take him at a moment’s notice but unable to just fulfill that animal desire inside him.

Gabriel hasn’t been in the mood, after all… other than a few kisses here and there, nice and slow… so slow that Jack had felt like he would have to crawl out of his own skin if he couldn’t push Gabriel down that second to push inside him, all the while sucking on his tongue…

He’s been able to restrain himself, obviously, but still-

Gabriel snorts softly. It sounds derisive, like he’s been able to listen to every single one of Jack’s thoughts just now. Maybe he was. He’s still not quite sure what those little machines they pumped into his system actually allow him to do.

He’s still slowly mulling over whether to feel embarrassed or not when Gabriel pushes the blanket aside and shows him that he’s completely naked underneath, his cock a nice half-chub resting against one of his massive thighs. It seems to dance for him but that is just Gabriel nervously tensing his muscles.

Jack groans. It sounds pained even to his own ears… and maybe it is, in a way. He’s been waiting for this sight for months now, desperately jerking it in the bathrooms of whatever hotels or huts they’re staying in, trying to be nice and patient and understand that maybe, just maybe, Gabriel has lost all interest in sexuality whatsoever…

But now he’s just offering it to him without a warning. It’s nearly too much.

Gabriel snorts again. He looks away but reaches down with one hand, casually cupping his dick and giving it a couple slow, easy tugs that make Jack’s mouth grow very dry.

With that husky voice of his, Gabriel mutters: “You’re a goddamn idiot… either come here and put some work in or get out so I can take care of it myself.”

Jack doesn’t know what sound he’s making next. Somewhere between a gurgle and a growl. He’s definitely bit his tongue in an effort not to choke on it as he makes his way over to the bed and simultaneously wrestles his underwear off. He won’t let Gabriel go anywhere right now.

The bed is large but old. It creaks ominously when he crawls onto it and over his lover but it will just have to survive… he definitely won’t stop now. Not when he’s been crawling up Gabriel until his nose is all but bumping against the tip of his slowly fattening cock.

Gabriel slowly takes his hand away and instead puts it on the back of Jack’s head, fingers lightly rubbing through his short hair but not exerting much pressure to urge him and suck… so Jack takes his time just staring for a moment. He feels like his eyes need to adjust to the lighting in the bedroom since he can’t possibly be seeing what he’s seeing but after a while he’s certain that there is one long scar running along Gabriel’s shaft, from the base right up to underneath his glans. He has no idea where that came from. The last time he’s seen his dick up close – which was… many many years ago – it had been perfectly normal.

It’s just one more reminder of all the shit they’ve been through. Gabriel even more so than he with all the medical experimentations in Talon.

It feels like tonight they can put it all behind them just that little bit more.

Wouldn’t that be something?

#cyberratting writes stuff #reaper/soldier

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fckwritersblock · 4 years ago

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Act 1: While We’re Young

Chapter 5

Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Black OC

(Unedited.)

Tuesday

January 10th 2005

Last night was the only night I'm allowing myself to cry over him and his 'return'. What good would it do me? No, I was gonna take Erik and whatever he had to throw at me by storm.

Waking up the next day, I feel refreshed. Like a brand new person with a more positive mindset. Today I had 3 classes and I'm determined to have a good Erik free day.

That whole Erik free thing went out the window as soon as I got to my first class.

Double O Computer Programming 1 was a junior class, however I'd taken it during the summer during my first year at UC Berkeley. DOCP 2 wouldn't be available until next semester but I needed to have a class since this was my first year on the actual campus. Thankfully Miss Hill really needed a T.A and the fact that I could help with an algorithm that tied into thermal nuclear astrophysics had her sold.

Right after I finished taking attendance, she barely got a word out before the door swung open revealing Erik as our late comer. I quickly glanced at the sheet in front of me, scanning for his name. I was so use to calling him N’dajaka when we were kids, I completely skipped over ‘Erik Stevens’. I huffed rolling my eyes, arms crossed over my chest. His timbs were the only thing heard shuffling across the room making hid way toward the front of the class. Wordlessly he handed Miss Hill before his eyes were on me. They scanned me from top to bottom, before locking with me a smug grin on his lips.

"Hey Lona," my jaw dropped.

Before I could get out a word, Miss Hill opened her mouth, looking up from the paper he handed her.

"Welcome Erik, sorry for the confusion."

"It's all good," he shrugged.

"Im Miss Hill, and I see you already know my aid. As I explained to the class prior to taking attendance, If I'm unavailable feel free to email or call her during the hours listed on the sheet." She is then took a sheet from me and handed him to me. "Other than that, find a seat."

He nodded pretending look over the sheet before averting his gaze back on me.

"I'm definitely gon do that."

Fuck my life right?

Well, Erik just so happened to be in the Calculus class I skipped two days ago. I thank God my record was squeaky clean and Mr. Kennedy accepted my poor excuse before I was quickly reminded the man upstairs has a sense of humor as the only available seat was next to Erik.

"The person next to you will be your partner for the remainder of the semester so let's take the next 15 minutes getting know one another hmm?." Mr. Kennedy instructed.

I couldn't suppress the groan that slipped as Erik casually leaned back in his chair, examining me.

"You heard the man, get to know me."

"I know all I need this know about you Erik."

"Oh so I'm Erik now? Like that?" He spoke cool, calm, and collected like our exchanged was normal.

I gripped my pencils tight, my knee bouncing up and down my body tense.

"Let me set things straight now. We don't need to talk to one another. If it doesn't have anything to do with any of the classes we take together, don't want to hear it. When you see me act like you don't know me. We clear?"

The expression on his face was unreadable before his lip twitched slight him responding.

"Crystal."

Wednesday

January 24th, 2005

It had been two weeks since Erik showed up here.

Ok that's a lie.

Apparently this man has been here. And to top it off, this mans name was in every bitch mouth like the second coming of Jesus Christ. From what I've observed though, he doesn't say much, or gives any of these broads much attention. He don't say much in general actually, he's really good at blending in. He got that laid back, mysterious, bad boy vibe going for him and these females out here hella into that.

But when he opens his mouth, that cocky bastard sure knows how to disrupt my entire soul at least while we're in class.

Outside of class though, he acts like I'm invisible.

It was like he never knew me. And honestly, I don't know how to feel about it. I know that's what I said I wanted but it bothers me just the same.

Today in particular though, he argued me down during our Calculus class. We had one problem to figure out before we could leave class today. You and your partner were supposed agree on the answer, and heaven forbid he just agree with me so we can get out of here. Math was always my subject when we were kids, nothing has changed. I was damn near about to say fuck it when he started laughing.

What in the entire fuck it so funny?" I was fuming.

"You," he shook his head. "You really hella mad."

"Um, YES!" I damn near shouted fed up. "You literally been tryna convince me it's 5 when it's-"

"Chill. I know the answer is 3 girl. C'mon, let's go." So smoothly he closed the book, grabbed his bag and headed to the front.

I was so upset, I had to let him do all the talking when it came to explain to the teacher I'll answer and how we got there. I know I open my mouth I wasn't going to say anything nice.

"Girl what crawled up your ass and died?" Donise questioned with a stank look as we sat at one of the benches outside of the library.

"Yeah What did Erik do now," I could hear teasing in Tatiana's tone so I flipped her off.

Only giving a brief explanation, I went on a mini rant about what happened in class 20 minutes ago. Donise's thought it was funny, while Tati just shook her head.

"I still can't believe it him," Tatianna glanced as a group of guys from across the quad headed our way, Erik included.

"Yes, and I wish it wasn't."

Tatianna was the first real friend I made in a while. I was actually tutoring her online for a while before she found out I was 4 years younger than her. Our friendship started off as a trade. I was her tutor and she both convinced and enrolled in a mentor program to help me with my social skills. I didn't speak to anyone much when Erik left, but I got into a lot of fights. According to the school counselor I was taking out my anger and abandonment issues on.I have meds to tame the anger, and while I haven't had to take them in a while Eric definitely bring that anger out of me.

"Girl that's just sexual tension. You got to fuck all that out." Ashley put in her unwanted two cents.

"Trust me when I tell you on God it isn't."

"Well if you out to holla, then trust and believe I will." She tossed her hair over her shoulder

I didn't really mess with Ashley like that, but she was Tati's frat sister which made them 'friends'. That little thot pocket will screw anything with legs, D, and a pulse and I'm not bout that life. Plus she messy as fuck and I don't trust her as far as I can throw her.

"I don't doubt it," I smirked as Donise said exactly what I was thinking.

Donise was coo' though, I meet her when I first got here 2 months ago. Believe It or not she was apart of the welcome comity for MIT and turned out her and Tatiana were already friends. Once she figured out who I was, I was shot to the front line during registration and everything.

"Anyways, y'all going Ant and them party tomorrow?" Ashley questioned probably tryna bum a ride.

"What party?"

"The Que's," Donise answered. "The dudes with Erik are frat."

Now this was news to me. I met most of them before but I had no idea there were in a sorority. Examining them, I guess it all made sense. Most in the clique sported some sort of purple and yellow lanyard either around their neck or on their keychain that hung from their jean pocket as if they wanted everybody to know who they were. Which I wouldn't doubt.

"Ladies! What we chattin about?" Moses questions every bit of his thick English accent tapering off every word.

"Our plans for mañana," Tati answered l

"Word. Y'all coming to the party tomorrow?" Jay spoke playing with a few strands of Donise's curls.

"Tomorrow? It's Thursday." I said confused. "Ain't there class the next day?"

"What's the matter, you can't hang?" I glared at Jay, knowing he was only chastising me because him and Erik were close, according to Tati.

I swear to God men gossip more than women do. Rolling my eyes I spared Erik a glance and he looked like he was waiting on me to respond.

"Oh, I can definitely hang."

I couldn't hang.

Around midnight I was in the bathroom throwing up everything, damn near hug in the toilet as my surrounding looks so blurry and I can barely function. Im not sure when I'd finally finished, but I could feel someone picks me up and out the bathroom and soon everything goes blurry and then black.

Tag list: @kitesatforestp @xsweetdellzx @justgetitoverwith0 @letsshamelessqueen-m @cmkcolove @readingaddict1290

#black!reader #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger series #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens #killmonger x black!reader #black writer #killmomger x oc #killmonger imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #black panther imagine #black panther #wakanda forever #tchalla

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racetrackhigg · 4 years ago

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Hunger Games AU

kinda

thank you so much to @bitchiaintanonymous for helping me with this!!! she wrote all the descriptions of the districts and she helped me figuring out stuff for the characters!

also i wasn’t supposed to make morris’ moodboard, but i didn’t realize until too late- so whoops

please don’t let it flop ive been working on this literally all day akdhsksbw

!!! TW: DEATH (kinda graphic? i mean i say how they died but that’s it), ABUSE, CHILD ABANDONMENT, MENTIONS OF STARVATION !!!

please don’t continue reading if any of those things trigger you

District 1: luxury

They produce jewelry and the people take pride in living there because of it. Most of the people from there are named after expensive material like “Cashmere” and “Glimmer” and as you know, they train and volunteer for the games so they have a higher chance of winning.

Oscar Delancey

Morris Delancey (died)

Morris lived with his uncle and his brother

He had a fairly privileged life, living in the richer side of the district.

However, his uncle was an abusive drunk and he usually took the hits from him to stop his brother from getting hurt

He trained for the games his entire life and eagerly volunteered to be a part of them when he was 17, hoping that if he won it would mean him and his brother could get away from their uncle and have a better life

Sadly, he died during the games by being stabbed in the back by the one and only Jack Kelly

He made 2nd place

District 2: Masonry and Defense.

These people work on weapons for peacekeepers and even have a training center for the peacekeepers, and they also volunteer for the games. It’s illegal for them, but because they’re so buddy buddy with the Capitol, they’re let off. They usually have Ancient Roman and Greek names.

Romeo (victor)

Romeo grew up having a somewhat decent life

Hs mother died when he was young, so he lived with his father and younger sister (who’s only 5 when he goes to the games) (he’s 15)

He trained for the games since he was young, and at first. he wanted to volunteer

However, as the reaping came near, he was starting to regret his decision, especially after overhearing some of his friends talk about the true horrors of the games

His dad threatened to kill him himself if he didn’t volunteer, claiming he would rather have no son at all than one who was a coward

So Romeo was forced to volunteer

Jojo (his mentor) becomes like an older brother or even father figure to him

Jojo de la Guerra (former victor, died)

Jojo lived in the poorer side of the district

He used to work a lot in weaponry to provide for his family Jojo was 17 when he participated in the games, and won

He was 22 when he mentored Romeo

And 23 when he died

He “trained” for the games for years, but unlike Romeo, he never volunteered

By “training” i mean that he was just a sparring partner for people who wanted to volunteer for the games

Because of this, he just picked up different fighting techniques over time

Unlike most people in that district, he hated the games and was not eager at all to be a part of them

He was assigned as Romeo’s mentor

At first, Jojo thought he was just another cocky kid who was overconfident he’d win

But then he actually met him. and realised Romeo didn’t want this

He made it his goal to make sure Romeo would get out of the games alive. After all, he was just a kid.

He was killed by peacekeepers after trying to protect Romeo. Pulitzer wanted to prostitute Jojo, and he refused, so as a warning they went to kill Romeo, but Jojo managed to stop them the cost of his own life

District 3: Technology.

They produce technology and electronics for the Capitol and usually use their knowledge of that in the games. They’re really smart and in the 10th Hunger Games, it’s said that a district 3 tribute hack into a drone that delivered supplies to use for themselves (doesn’t work that great cause they get killed though) but they’re still really smart.

Antonio “Racetrack” Higgins (victor)

Race never met his mother, She died a few days after he was born

So he was raised by his father

When he turned 6, his father started drinking

When he turned 7, he started hiring him

He met a girl named Sarah after trying to steal from her, and instead of reporting him to a peacekeeper, they actually became friends over time (even though Race was 2 years younger than her)

He often went to hide at the Jacobs’ house when things got too bad at home

Just a year after David volunteered, on the next reaping, Sarah’s name was called

So Race volunteered. (he was 16)

The jacobs’ had already done so much for him, and Sarah didn’t deserve to go through that, chances were she wouldn’t come back alive.

Race knew he probably wouldn’t either, but he had nothing to lose. He wouldn’t be leaving any family behind, because the man that called himself his father was not his family.

David was his mentor.

Much like David had before him, Race used parts of traps to make his weapons better, though he mainly used a bow and arrow.

For most of the game, he made a truce with a guy named Albert from district 4, and they became /very/ close.

He was killed by a guy from district 6, Finch, who was also the last person remaining apart from him.

Race killed him by shooting an arrow directly in his heart. It’s the only kill he doesn’t regret so much.

David Jacobs (victor)

David lived with his parents, twin sister and younger brother.

He was especially close to his sister.

His father got sick and died a few years later, when he was 15, so he had to work extra hard to help support his family

When he turned 17, his worst nightmare came true and his younger brother, Les was selected for the games

He volunteered to save his brother, and was determined to make it back alive, wanting his family to have a better life.

He trained a lot in physical combat, since he knew that without at least a somewhat proper training, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

Once in the games, he spent most of his time trying to avoid other people, not wanting to kill anyone else and not wanting to risk his own life.

However, he ended up having to kill a boy from district 10, Mike, to save his own life using a makeshift explosive he made out of parts from a trap he disarmed (or however it’s said).

He wins by tricking the last person left, Itey, into eating poison berries.

He never forgave himself for the lives he took, and it’s something that would always haunt him.

Just a year after that, he became Race’s mentor.

District 4: fishing.

First off, people say that this district had the most “decent-looking” people. As you may have guessed, these people specialize in “aquaculture” It sounds useless, but a character named “Mags” actually won her games because she was the only one able to swim the longest when the arena was flooded. They also use tridents and things like that and volunteer as “Careers” too.

Albert Dasilva (died)

Albert came from the more poor side of the district

He lives with his father, who fell ill a few weeks before Albert was selected for the games.

He’s only 16

He never really trained for the games, unlike many people. He didn’t have the time or money for that.

One of his friends, Sniper, promised to take care of his father while he was gone.

Albert knew he probably wouldn’t be coming back.

Early in the games, he befriended Race, and they survive throughout almost the entire games together.

He knew one of them was going to have to die, but Albert decided to ignore that. He was going to find a way around it.

However, while Race went out hunting, the only other tribute left strangled him to death and stole all their supplies.

He never made it back home to his father.

Sniper (victor)

Sniper was an orphan

Her family abandoned her when she was 5, and she lived in the streets for a short while until a kind man took her in

It was Albert’s father

When she got older, she started working to make her own living

Albert became her best friend, despite being 4 years apart. He became almost like an older brother to her.

Her best friend, almost brother, got sent away for the games and never returned.

Sniper moved back in with Mr. Dasilva to take care of him as he fell ill, and his son was no longer there to take care of him.

He got better, eventually, and was horrified and heartbroken at the news of his son’s death.

A year after his best friend was sent away to die, she got chosen for the games.

She vowed to make it back alive, no matter what.

She learned everything there was to know about the plants of the arena. She was already good at combat.

She won by poisoning the last other tribute.

Much like David, Sniper was never able to forgive herself for the lives she took.

District 5: power.

They specialize in providing power for the Capitol with electricity (they power homes and stuff so not technology like in district 3). They’re pretty smart and they use the coal district 12 mines to generate the power.

Specs

Itey (died)

Itey lived with their parents

They were an only child

Their life was pretty good- at least their family life

They were pretty poor, but still better off than a few other people, so they were grateful for what they had.

They were chosen for the games when they were 15

Their parents prayed Itey would make it back alive, but they knew it was unlikely, since he had no training whatsoever

They were right

Itey almost won, but they were starving, and didn’t know that the berries were poisonous

They came 2nd

District 6: transportation

The tributes shown from here are actually pretty nice and cool. During the 75th Hunger Games the tributes were nicknamed “morphlings” because of their addiction to the drug. The male tribute didn’t do much, but the female tribute sacrificed herself for Peeta and jumped in front of an animal that was trying to kill him.

Finch Cortez (died)

Finch lived with his younger brother

His parents died when he was relatively young (12 years old- his brother was 9) but they managed to scrape by

He started working pretty young to make sure his brother could have a roof over his head and not starve.

He was 17 when he was selected for the games, his brother was only 14

He was terrified, but determined to come back home to his only family

He made it to 2nd place

He was killed by an arrow straight through his heart.

Tbh if Race would’ve known Finch had a family to go home to, he would’ve eaten poisonous berries and let him win

Skittery

District 7: lumber.

They specialize in forestry and wood and paper and all that. They are strong-willed and hard headed, and don’t have many qualms about killing people. but more or less are loyal depending on the situation.

Sean “Spot” Conlon (victor)

Spot was an orphan

Well, kind of

He lived with his parents up until he was 10, when he ran away

They were both abusive and manipulative, and he knew if they kept this up, he’d end up dead

After he ran away, he made friends with a guy his age named Hotshot.

Hotshot had the perfect family. Loving parents and a younger sister.

Honestly, Spot was jealous

But they became quick friends, and Hotshot’s parents let him move in

Hotshot nicknamed him Spot because of the cigarette burns across his arms and back

He was 17 when he was selected for the games

Surprisingly enough, he didn’t think he’d come back

Because as strong and as much of a skilled fighter as he was, there were people out there that had been training for this their whole lives.

However, he managed to win. Had a pretty big kill count too- not because he wanted to, but because a surprising amount of people went after him. He had many good supplies and they wanted them.

The last person left apart from him was Buttons.

He won by bashing his head against a rock and then pushing him off a cliff for good measure.

In his defence, Buttons had tried to push him off a cliff first. Spot just took his chance.

Hotshot

District 8: textiles

Clothing. They fight for what’s right, and we’re actually among the first to rebel against the Capitol and follow Katniss, which, sadly, also made them the second most targeted district (the first being district 12 which was outright destroyed) A leader from district 8 actually became president after Katniss killed this woman named “Alma Coin” (the president of district 13)

Buttons (died)

Buttons lived with her younger brother, Elmer, and their parents

She was only 14 when she was selected for the games

She knew she wasn’t making it back

However, she let her hopes up w hen she was one of the only two left, and was a bit more careless with her actions

This is what led to her the death

Elmer

District 9: grain.

They specialize in grain, and salts. It’s the least mentioned of the districts, there is no known character mentioned from here, and all that is known is that both tributes died in the initial bloodbath

Henry

Smalls

District 10: live stock.

Believe it or not, no one except a crippled boy is mentioned from here. This is the second least mentioned one, it’s only known that a refugee from here told Katniss about district 13 so we can assume they know their rights and wrongs.

Mike (died)

Mike lived with his twin brother and parents

He was 15 when he was selected for the games, and he knew there was no chance he’d make it back alive

He was right, since he was killed by David, after trying to kill him and steal his supplies.

Ike

District 11: agriculture.

Common traits of this district are “dark skin and brown eyes” They are heavily abused by the Peacekeepers and are the most brutal treated ones. Their electric fences are activated 24/7, they have extreme knowledge of herbs and foods. Again, security here is greatly unforced and there are a lot of harsh measures like summary execution. (an execution where someone is accused of something and is immediately killed without a fair trial) It was one of the first districts to rebel, it was their response for what happened to Rue (a former 12-year old tribute who was Katniss’ ally and was killed during the games).

Graves

Rafaela

District 12: coal mining.

This district is divided into housing areas. The Seam is where people who work in coal mines live, and the others are centered around “The Square''. People from The Seam generally have dark hair, grey eyes, and olive skin, and the others have blond hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. Katniss and Gale are from The Seam whereas Peeta is a bakers son in the town. District 12 is the poorest out of the districts, and starvation is a big issue, and because of this, the Capitol usually bends the rules a little by turning off the electric fence surrounding them so people can go hunt for food for their families or sell their catches to the black market for money. District 12 is known for having only 2 victors in the history of the games before the 74th. A female named Lucy Gray Baird who died before the events of The Hunger Games happened, and Haymitch Abernathy. This is why the district is usually a laughingstock and volunteering for the Games is seen as suicide.

Jack Francis Kelly (victor)

Jack’s parents gave him up at a very young age, when he was only 2 years old

They sent him to live with an old family friend, William Snyder

Snyder was horrible to him.

He constantly abused and starved and neglected him, treated him more like a slave than anything else.

Jack had to balance doing whatever Snyder said and also making his own food and money by working so he could eat

When he was 14, his parents came to visit. He didn’t recognize them, and he didn’t know who they were until the end of the visit- when they were leaving

He was both hurt and furious

Although he was miserable and his life sucked, he did manage to make a friend

Crutchie

He was 3 years younger than Jac k, and his leg was injured beyond repair in a mining accident

When he heard Crutchie’s name at the Reaping, he immediately volunteered

Unlike him, Crutchie had a family. People who loved him.

Jack had nothing to lose

He didn’t expect to come back alive, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Multiple people tried to kill him throughout the game, thinking it as a fun game since he was of the “worse” district

Jack won by killing Morris

He didn’t know he had a brother, if he did, he wouldn’t have done it. Jack didn’t have anything to come back to, Morris did

He found out about this and his situation a day after his victory.

He was horrified, knowing he killed a man that was just trying to help his family.

Jack didn’t have a family. He just took a poor kids only family away.

So he made sure Oscar was away from his uncle and safe

It was the least he could do.

He was never able to forgive himself.

Charlie “Crutchie” Morris

District 13: nuclear weaponry.

Before they were “extinct” they made and built nuclear weapons for the Capitol, but after they tried to rebel, they were bombed and became “extinct”. In reality they lived underground and struck up a deal with the Capitol, that they’d be able to live in hiding, and in return, they would not rain war on the Capitol. Every food ration is cherished in this district and everything is very orderly as to not rouse suspicion. The lifestyle is very strict because of the circumstances. District 13 is the center for the rebellion in the books, and is where Katniss and everyone planned out the war between the districts and the Capitol.

Mush Meyers and Kid Blink

Blink came from district 12

He was an orphan, and his only family, his younger sister, died from starvation when he was 17, soon turning 18

She was only 10

Not even a year later, Blink snuck out of his district, except instead of just going hunting, he ran away.

He narrowly escaped a peacekeeper finding him

After a few days of being completely alone, he ran into Mush Meyers, who (slightly reluctantly) took him into his distract (he got into a shit ton of trouble for that)

However, Blink was allowed to stay.

Eventually, they got together (because we all need some Blush in our lives)

Capitol

Katherine Plumber

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rainbowwing251 · 3 years ago

Text

New World, Old Traditions (Xenoblade Chronicles Tickle Fic)

A/N: SURPRISE! I decided to write a shorter fic for the 1-year anniversary of Xenoblade Chronicles: Definitive Edition!

While I couldn’t finish “WARNING: Beware of Grins” in time for the anniversary, I couldn’t stomach the idea of not doing anything for it. So I sat there, wondering if I could do anything to celebrate this milestone, when I thought to myself, “Hey! I should write a fic based on two of the headcanons that I have about the birthdays of the main party members in Xenoblade Chronicles!”

What are those two headcanons? Well, allow me to describe them to you!

Headcanon #1: The birthdays of each of the main party members correspond to a date that matches up with either one of two things:

The release date of a specific entry in the Xenoblade series, including ports.

A date on which major news for a specific entry in the Xenoblade series was announced. An example would be March 26th, the date of the Nintendo Direct Mini that announced the release date for XC:DE and the Future Connected epilogue that came with it.

While I would love to list off all of the birthdays, I don’t want this Author’s Note to drag on and on, so I’ll just list off the birthdays of the characters who will be the main stars of this fic.

#1- Shulk’s birthday is June 10th (the release date of the original Xenoblade Chronicles in Japan).

#2- Reyn’s birthday is March 26th. I already explained the significance of this date earlier, so I won’t repeat myself.

#3- Fiora’s birthday is May 29th (the release date of Xenoblade Chronicles: Definitive Edition, A.K.A today!)

If you want to know the birthdates of Dunban, Sharla, Melia, and Riki, let me know!

As for headcanon #2, this is what it is: Shulk, Reyn, and Fiora have a tradition of tickling each other on their birthdays. It doesn’t matter whose birthday it is, they will all get the chance to tickle each other. If you would like to learn more about this headcanon, check out this post!

Now that I have explained my two headcanons, I would like to give one last bit of information before we move on to the fic.

Normally, when I write a fic, Shulk is the lee. However, I wanted to try something different with this fic.

This time, it’s Fiora’s turn to be the lee. Shulk will be one of the two lers in this fic, the other being Reyn (though I suppose that’s obvious, given the fact that I told you my headcanon for Reyn’s birthdate). This is going to be fun to write.

Oh, and one last thing: There are major spoilers for Xenoblade Chronicles in this fic. Do not read this fic if you haven’t beaten the game yet.

Alright, I think it’s about time that we get to the fic. So without further ado, let’s go! Happy 1-year anniversary, Xenoblade Chronicles: Definitive Edition!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When was the last time she had slept like this?

When was the last time she had a good night's rest with no nightmares or monsters to keep her up at night? When was the last time she dreamed of her friends and the wholesome mischief they would get themselves into? When was the last time she slept in in the morning?

And most importantly, when was the last time she had slept in her Homs body?

For months on end, she was afraid. Afraid of how others would view her in her mechanical body. Afraid that both her friends and brother would betray her. Afraid of losing control over herself once more (even though Meyneth was careful with her body, never putting it in harm's way). Afraid that at any moment, she would fall asleep forever.

But now… she was free. Free from the cold metal that once gave her a second chance at life. Free from the sorrow that filled her heart every time she thought about her shortening life span. Free from the emptiness that came with the inability to feel the physical touch of an organic life form. Free from the gods that once ruled the world.

She thanked them. She thanked everyone and everything that made her life as a Mechon more bearable. She thanked those who gave her the courage to fight on, even with the threat of Zanza and the constant feeling that death was coming for her.

But most of all, she thanked Shulk, Melia, and Linada for finding the Biotic Regeneration Device, the very machine that saved her life.

The sudden loss of her mechanical body meant that she could feel certain physical sensations again. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had felt hunger, thirst, or extreme fatigue. Sure, she had felt tired as a Mechon, but that paled in comparison to the exhaustion she had been feeling since the day that she woke up from the chamber. She hadn’t felt this tired since the day that her brother returned home from the Battle of Sword Valley.

She had felt this way for at least a week now. She knew that some of it came from all of the walking she did when she was tasked to find those who needed help with the reconstruction efforts in New Colony 9, but when she thought about all of the times that she had helped people in the old world prior to the Mechon raid on the old Colony 9, she knew that the majority of her fatigue came from an entirely different source.

She didn’t know for sure what the cause was, but she figured that it had something to do with the fact that she was in a mechanical body for months. She was still adjusting to the body she never thought she would be in again, so it wouldn’t surprise her if the fatigue went away on its own in about a month. For now, she would have to deal with the excessive amount of sleepiness.

Right now, she was asleep, burned out from her walks across the new yet all-so-familiar colony she called home. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue with any of her companions. All of them knew that she was much more tired than she had ever been in her life, and they would usually let her be when she slept into the late hours of the morning.

However, today was a little bit different.

Today was Fiora’s birthday, and she had slept in. Shulk and Reyn were having none of this.

“What do you say we do to wake her up?” Reyn asked the former visionary.

“Hm… We could gently shake her until she wakes up, but she won’t be happy about that…”

“Should we spook her?”

“No! We are not doing that!”

“Sorry, sorry. Just wanted to propose an idea.”

Shulk glared at him for a bit before he put his hand on his chin in thought.

“Scaring her isn’t a good idea, but maybe we’ll have to do something that will jolt her awake…”

“Seems like it’s the only way to wake her these days…”

Reyn mulled over a possible solution. After a few seconds of silence between him and his closest friend, he was suddenly hit with an idea.

“Wait, I got it!”

“Oh dear Bionis… what is it, Reyn?” Shulk said, playfully teasing the older Hom.

“First of all, don’t give me that attitude,” He poked the younger male in the bicep, “second of all, do you remember a certain tradition that you, Fiora and I used to have?”

Shulk rummaged his brain for a memory that would provide the answer to the soldier’s question. Eventually, he found it.

“Are you talking about… that tradition?”

“Huh? Can you be more specific?” Reyn was a bit confused, not understanding the vagueness of the heir’s response, before he noticed the blush that was forming on his face.

“Oh, so you do remember that tradition?”

“Yeah…”

Reyn ruffled his hair before he asked him, “So what do you think? Should we do it?”

“It might work… And even if it doesn’t, we’ll tickle her anyway at some point in the day. Tradition and that.”

“So is that a yes?”

Shulk nodded and said, “Yeah, it’s a yes.”

The auburn-haired male gave him a thumbs up. “Alrighty then, let’s go and wake up Fiora!”

The two of them left the Weapons Development Lab and strolled through the streets of New Colony 9. As they walked by, Dunban, Sharla, Melia, and Riki all greeted them, asking if they could wish Fiora a “Happy Birthday” on their behalf (all four of them were busy with the reconstruction, and Dunban didn’t have the heart to wake his sister up from a well-deserved sleep). They told them that they would, and kept on walking.

Eventually, they arrived at Dunban’s House. Reyn went up to the front door and turned the knob. He wasn’t surprised to find that the door was unlocked. He quietly pushed the door open and tip-toed inside the house. He waited in the kitchen for a few seconds, listening for the blonde woman’s footsteps, before he turned to Shulk to tell him that she was still asleep. The scientist carefully stepped inside the room.

They sneaked up the stairs, careful to avoid the spots that made the steps creak, and found the young girl sleeping in the bed.

“Ready?” Reyn whispered to his fellow Hom.

“Ready.” He answered

The older male slowly lifted the blanket off of Fiora’s body, revealing that she was wearing a Dyed Top and Dyed Bottoms. She usually put these two pieces of clothing on when she was about to go to bed, and wore her normal outfit during the day.

Reyn looked over at Shulk and whispered, “You go for the knees, and I’ll go for the sides, alright?”

“Got it.” The heir whispered back.

Reyn carefully reached over to pull Fiora’s shirt up and slowly drifted his hands towards her sides, while Shulk made his fingers walk up to her knees.

As soon as their fingers made contact with her skin, they lightly wiggled them.

At first, she didn’t react to the touch, far too deep in her sleep to notice anything that came from the real world, but in ten seconds, she finally let out a couple of giggles.

“Hehehehe… Stahahahahahp…” She made an attempt to swat at the boys’ hands, but she didn’t put enough strength into the swats, and was therefore unable to stop the sensation.

Soon enough, her eyes fluttered open, still giggling at the sensation that was coursing through her body. Shulk and Reyn took their hands off of her as she drifted towards wakefulness.

“Shulk…? Reyn…?”

“Good morning, sleepy head!” Reyn sang, ruffling Fiora’s hair exactly like he did with Shulk’s back at the Weapons Development Lab.

“Hands off, you big oaf…~” She teased, earning a pout from the soldier and a laugh from the scientist.

“Happy Birthday, Fiora!” Shulk said, pulling her up into a sitting position before hugging her.

“Aw, thank you, Shulk!” She replied cheerfully, then turned her attention over to Reyn.

“No, Fiora, I didn’t forget your birthday this year.” Reyn said with a faint blush and an exasperated tone.

Fiora had every reason to doubt him. Normally, Reyn would forget about her birthday for at least half of the day before someone would remind him.

“Heheheh… I don’t believe you one bit- ah!” Fiora was about to sass her muscular friend, but she was cut off by Shulk pushing her onto the bed.

“You can laugh at him later, Fiora. For now, we have a tradition to attend to.”

He quickly lost the former Mechon, “What? What are you talking about?”

“What? You don’t remember our old tradition?” A tinge of dismay flashed across Reyn’s face, but in a split second, it had vanished. “What do you think, Shulk? Should we help her remember?”

The younger blonde nodded as a smirk grew on his lips. “Yeah, let’s do it!”

Reyn was about to tickle her underarms, but Shulk stopped him.

“Hang on, do you know how long we’re supposed to tickle her?”

Fiora heard that second-to-last word and immediately began to panic. “Wait, what did you say?”

Reyn ignored her (as did Shulk) and answered the heir’s question. “Yeah, she’s nineteen years old now, so we’ll tickle her for nineteen minutes, correct?”

“You got it! Now, are you ready?”

“You bet I am! Let’s bring this tradition back!”

Fiora could only squirm and giggle as Reyn grabbed her wrists and pinned them down with his left hand. Meanwhile, Shulk sat down on her legs and moved his body until he knew for sure that his weight would keep her legs pinned.

“Nohohoho, guhihihihihiys!”

Shulk tsked at her and slipped into his role as a ler, “You should save your breath, Fiora, because you’re going to need it~”

The unexpected tease from the former visionary was the last thing she heard before she was suddenly attacked by two pairs of hands. One pair went for her underarms, while the other snuck up her shirt and pinched at her ribs.

“Ahahahahahahaha! Nohohohohohohohoho!” She quickly fell into a laughing fit and tried her hardest to pull her arms down. Unfortunately, Reyn’s grip was far too strong, so she had no choice but to surrender herself to the tickles. Even worse, while she made her attempt to escape, the soldier took advantage of the situation and sped up the tickling every time she stretched her arms out.

“Eep! Reheheheheheyn, stahahahahahahap! Lehehehehehet mehehehe gohohohoho!”

“Sorry, Fiora, but you’re out of luck. There’s still eighteen minutes to go~!”

Fiora squealed as the older male raked his fingers back and forth in her underarms and teased her at the same time. Since when did he become an intimidating tickle monster?

Knowing that she was helpless under Reyn’s hold, she decided to focus her efforts on her legs. Shulk was a bit weaker than Reyn, so she figured that it would be easy for her to knock him off. She laughed and laughed for another two minutes before she made an attempt at lifting her right leg.

However, as soon as she tried to lift it, Shulk countered her by launching an all-out attack on her knees.

“Oh no you don’t! You’re not getting away from us~!”

“Whahahahahahahaha! Sihihihihihihihihincehehehehe whehehehehehen dihihihihi yohohohou gehehehehet sohohohoho bohohohohohold?”

“Trust me, if Reyn wasn’t here, I wouldn’t be doing this right now. But since he’s here with me, I’m feeling rather brave.” He moved his right hand to the back of her right knee and began to scratch at the spot, while his left hand skittered across her left kneecap. “Soon, you will fear me~!”

The teasing and tickling from the youngest member of the group nearly broke the helpless woman underneath him.

“Ihihihihihihihihi’m nohohohohohohohot ahahahahahfraihihihihihihid ohohohohohof yohohohoHOHOHO! REHEHEHEHEHEYN, NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” Reyn broke the laughter dam within her by blowing raspberries into her neck.

“No? No what? What am I doing wrong, Fiora~? Tell me!”

“QUIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE RAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASPBEHEHEHEHEHEHERRIHIHIHIHIES!”

Reyn let out a chuckle, “Sorry, what did you say? I can’t understand you!”

“YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU KNOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOW WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHT IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHID!”

Shulk shook his head and made his hands jump up to her sides. “Fiora, Reyn doesn’t speak ticklish.”

“Yeah, I don’t understand the ticklish language! I haven’t even studied it, yet!”

Fiora’s mind was about to be lost in the raging river of laughter that spilled from her mouth.

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT!” She accidentally yelled.

Reyn stopped tickling her and put his hand over his heart in mock offense, while Shulk let out an exaggerated gasp and sped his tickling up to the max.

“Fiora! That wasn’t necessary! Shulk, I think we need to punish this rude little birthday girl!”

“I agree, Reyn, but we should save the punishment for the last five minutes. That will straighten her out for sure!”

Fiora had never shivered at Shulk’s words before, but even though all of the tickling, she felt a powerful chill run down her spine.

“WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOES THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT MEHEHEHEHEHEAN, SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHULK?!”

The scientist let out the most threatening laugh she had ever heard from him in her life, “You’ll see~” Then he zipped his hands onto her stomach, releasing a shriek from the back of her throat.

“EEEEE! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!” She was getting dangerously close to breaking as she endured the barrage of tummy tickles that rained down upon her.

“Ten minutes left, Reyn! Don’t let up just yet!”

“Got it, but we might want to slow it down so Fiora can breathe!”

“Good idea. If my hypothesis is correct, her laughter will turn silent in two minutes, so we should ease up on her so that doesn’t happen.”

Reyn had to laugh at that. Even when he’s tickling someone to death, Shulk would always find a way to be geeky. Fiora probably laughed at that too, but right now, it was impossible to differentiate between her normal laugh and her tickle laugh.

The two boys slowed their fingers down until they were only tracing over her skin, and although she was tittering, she was able to take a dozen, much-needed breathers.

“Yohohohou guys ahahahahare much mohohohohore ehehehvil than Ihihihi thohohohought…”

Reyn took this moment to revel in her words, “Don’t mess with this tickle monster! You’ll regret it when you do, right Fiora?”

Fiora did her best to give him a death stare, but only succeeded in making herself look silly (if Reyn laughing at her was anything to go by).

As per usual, Shulk took the smart route and just facepalmed at Reyn’s behavior.

“That’s a dangerous thought process, Reyn. Don’t forget that she can dish out punishments more dangerous than Zanza.”

That got a shocked response out of the other male, “You sure about that? I don’t think a tickle monster would have anything on a god!”

“I didn’t defeat Zanza on my own, Reyn! Fiora helped, and so did you and the others!”

Reyn wanted to argue back, but found that he couldn’t. Shulk had a point.

“Anyway, we have five minutes left, and you know what that means~”

“Dear Bionis! How did he transition back into his role so effortlessly?!” Well Shulk was right, Fiora would learn to fear him at some point. If he can return to the role of a ler in no time flat, then she would be terrified to know how he would act if he was playing the role of a tickle monster.

“Ohoho, I’ve been waiting for this! Ready for the grand finale, Fiora~?” Reyn asked with an unnervingly innocent tone in his voice.

“N-nohohohoho!”

“Well too bad!” Reyn nearly shouted out at her. He made his hands hover over her neck, while Shulk had his hands over her hips.

“This is part of the tradition, Fiora. When we reach the five-minute mark, we will target the lee’s worst spots until this time is up. We will not make any exceptions, no matter how much you protest against us or beg for us to reconsider.” Shulk explained to her in the most nonchalant and calm voice she had ever heard from the former visionary. The voice was so haunting that even Reyn was shuddering in fear.

“Now, any last words before you meet your end~?” He asked her. Silence was the only thing he got in response.

“Nothing? Very well, then. Reyn, on the count of three.”

“A-alright then…”

Shulk looked over and raised an eyebrow at his slight stutter before he returned his attention to the poor woman beneath him.

“Three.” The two of them brought their hands closer to her in perfect sync with each other.

“Two.” They finally made contact with her skin.

“One.” Fiora was once again in an anticipatory giggle fit.

“Now!” All hell broke loose.

At long last, Fiora broke under the intense tickling that shook her to the core.

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! WHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIY WOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOULD YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU GUHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIYS DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO THIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIS?!”

Reyn was going to answer her, but Shulk butted in and only said the word, “Tradition.”

They both knew that any further teasing would send the former Face unit into a fit of silent laughter, so they stayed silent for the remaining five minutes. The only sound that could be heard in the house was Fiora’s uncontrollable laughter.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to her, they let up. The tickling abruptly ended, Reyn let go of her wrists, and Shulk got off of her legs.

She laid there, chest heaving up and down as she struggled to regain her composure, while the scientist checked on her legs.

“Can you feel this, Fiora?” he asked as he squeezed her leg in a way that would not be painful or tickly.

“Yes… I can... feel it.” She told him in between breaths.

“You alright?” Reyn questioned her. “Feeling woozy?”

“No, I’m… fine.”

All three of them sat there in near-silence as Fiora’s breathing returned to normal. When it did, she spoke.

“That was impressive. I didn’t think you two had it in you to tickle and tease me like that.”

Reyn objected, “Hey, I’ve had that potential for years! If there’s anyone you should be impressed by, it would be him!” He pointed at Shulk, “I had no idea he could speak like that! It creeped me out!”

The younger boy couldn’t help the prideful smile on his face. “I learned it from watching and listening to all of you guys.”

“So that’s why you sounded like Melia towards the end there!” Fiora exclaimed, “I was trying to figure that out!”

“Oh, uh… That wasn’t intentional.” Shulk professed, feeling slightly embarrassed. He often imitated those that he loved on an unconscious level, and apparently, that’s exactly what he did when he teased Fiora.

“Sure it wasn’t.” she countered.

“Hey guys,” Reyn spoke up, “I think we should go and find the others. They might need help with the reconstruction.”

Fiora was a little concerned about the possibility of them working all day today, considering what day it was. “Do you think we’ll have time to celebrate my birthday today?”

“I think so,” he answered, “They told us to tell you that they said ‘Happy Birthday’, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they thought about that.”

“Oh! Well, I think we should go and find them so we can talk about it! Just give me a few minutes to change!”

“Okay then! Shulk and I will be downstairs waiting!” He turned to the other boy, only to find him staring at the bottom of the staircase.

“Shulk?” He didn’t get an answer.

Reyn didn’t notice it (or perhaps he might have forgotten it), but Shulk knew what was coming next. According to the tradition, once the birthday boy/girl was free from his or her tickle session, then…

“But first…” Yep, he called it.

He turned around and found that she was still sitting on the bed, looking at him and Reyn with an evil glint in her eyes. He knew what was coming.

“W-what?” Reyn stammered out. He was about to turn and make a run for it, but Fiora’s reflexes were too fast, and she caught his arm before he even had the chance to take a single step away from her.

“If I remember correctly, it’s your turn to be tickled.”

The soldier’s eyes widened, “W-wait, so you DO remember our tradition?”

“Yep, I was just pretending to not know about it. I’ll admit, the results I got from that were surprising,” She glanced at the younger Hom, who was as still as a statue, “...but I knew that the reveal would rile you guys up. I know that this will make you ten times more ticklish, so I figured that I would go for it.”

She got up off of the bed and tugged at Reyn’s arm, trying to pull him onto the spot that she was in mere minutes ago. “Shulk, can you help me?”

“On it.”

In no time at all, Reyn’s laughter would fill the home. After that, it would be Shulk’s turn.

They may be in a new world, but they knew that they would adjust to it just fine, because even though everything has changed, the past would never be forgotten.

#tickling #xenoblade chrontickles #lee!Fiora #ler!Shulk #ler!Reyn #SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKER I WROTE A NEW FIC!#okay that was a bit over the top #but seriously I'm really proud of this fic #WARNING: Beware of Grins is still in the works #but for now I think this fic will suffice #happy one year anniversary XC:DE!#I still haven't played the base game yet #but I did beat Future Connected last year #hence why I mentioned the Bionis Shoulder in my Silver Linings from Silver Eyes fic #I would like to play the base game #but I don't think I'll be able to spend a good amount of time on it due to college #oh well I'll get to it at some point #for now I'll just continue the Sword & Shield DLC and work on the Crown Tundra #I started that a few days ago

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violetwolfraven · 4 years ago

Note

If you’re still taking requests maybe 1+4 for Sprace?

Canon-era in general

And

Soulmate AU

I am always taking requests, my dude. Anyway here we go! This is mostly in the musicalverse but if I reference a few movieverse characters as older Newsies during Race’s childhood...😏 Also there are a couple of ocs in here, and it gets a bit angsty towards the end. Enjoy!

Tw: Underage drinking, a couple of side characters are mentioned to have died, and homophobia is kind of implied, I guess?

...

Race had grown up knowing that he liked boys, and that didn’t really match up with what people said love was supposed to be, but that was just how Race was.

And it wasn’t like it was hurting anyone, was it? Being only a little kid, Race was too young to actually do anything, and if he sometimes paid attention to the way a friend looked really cute when he’d just woken up, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he had to or even could act on those little crushes.

It was like Manhattan’s leader, Waffles, said. He called it ‘puppy love’ when Jack snuck glances at a girl his age on the street or Crutchie shyly gave one a flower when he handed her mother a pape. Nobody actually acted on these things.

Little baby crushes when you were a kid meant nothing, and that meant that Race would outgrow this and start liking girls in time to meet his soulmate, right? Because soulmates meant a boy with a girl, and nothing else, right?

At least, that was what he thought, until he and Jack walked into an alley when Race was 8 and Jack was 10 and found a couple of older boys kissing—which Race was pretty sure you were only supposed to do with someone you loved.

Snitch and Itey jumped apart, staring at the younger boys in shock. Then they each grabbed one and dragged them into the Lodging House bathroom to tell them that Race and Jack could not tell anyone.

Race was too scared to speak (Snitch and Itey were significantly bigger than him) but Jack stepped in front of him and demanded to know why.

That was when Itey sighed, said that maybe it would be better if Waffles explained this, and gone to get their leader.

Race hadn’t really believed it at first when Waffles sat them down and carefully explained that Itey and Snitch were soulmates.

“That ain’t possible,” Jack argued, “They’s both boys.”

“Yeah,” Waffles said, “And maybe it’s a cruel trick of fate or a mistake or whatever the church thinks, but here with the Manhattan Newsies? We don’t care. Okay? We’s a family. We don’t turn on Itey and Snitch for somethin’ they can’t control.”

“Why would we turn on them?” Race asked, confused. That was what this was; confusing.

Waffles sighed, “Look, among family, it’s okay. We don’t care who your soulmate is. But the rest of the world does, okay? Adults don’t know nothin’. They think boys lovin’ boys and girls lovin’ girls is wrong.”

“Would Itey and Snitch get hurt if adults found out?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, kiddo, they would. And that’s why you can’t tell no one, okay, boys? Nobody outside the house finds out and no new kids either ‘till we know we can trust ‘em. Okay?”

“Okay,” they both said, and though, like most people, Itey and Snitch kept their soulmarks covered, as it was something intensely personal and none of anybody’s business, from there, Race started realizing that he should have seen something between them a long time ago.

It was fairly obvious, in how they shared a bed, snuck off occasionally, and sometimes let touches of reassurance or affection linger a bit longer than they probably should.

Race started noticing how the other older kids covered for them. How Skittery would knock something over, allowing them to slip out together under the excuse of not wanting to help him clean it up. How Boots would make a joke to draw attention to himself if they started getting too obvious. How Waffles would take on any new kid thinking of selling with them, himself, so they had an excuse to keep being just the two of them.

It was... nice, in a mushy kind of way that they had that support. And Race didn’t really think seriously about kissing his crushes yet, but he did wonder if he would have that if he did.

Race’s soulmark—the first name of his soulmate that appeared on his wrist on his 10th birthday—was Sean.

It was a boy’s name. That scared Race a little.

But every time he saw the older Manhattan kids go out of their way to make sure nobody noticed Itey and Snitch, he got a little less scared, but still a bit confused

He stopped being scared, at least mostly, when Jack came to him, nervously confessing that he liked girls and boys, and his soulmark said a boy’s name; David. There was something less scary about being different when you didn’t have to be alone in it.

Of course, among the Newsies, finding your soulmate was always a little complicated, because damn near everybody had nicknames. Honestly, Race‘s soulmate could be almost any of his friends for all he knew, but he liked to think he didn’t. He liked to think he’d know immediately if he found him.

Race was 10 when he started selling at Sheepshead, having a deal with a Brooklyn girl, Palomino. She got to use his cuteness for easy sales, and in return, she taught him to weaponize just the right combination of friendliness, flirtation, and annoyance to get people do to pretty much whatever he wanted.

Race asked her when he was 11 what she thought about soulmates, particularly same-sex soulmates. He wanted her opinion because while Palomino was kind of an asshole, there was one thing she was really good at, and that was survival.

And Race wasn’t sure what he thought about the fact that his soulmate was a boy yet, but he knew that just living as someone like that, you had to be careful to survive.

‘Mino just shrugged, “Love is unreliable, Racer. It never does what you want it to and more often than not, it’s a liability. Soulmates ain’t an exception just cause they’s supposed to be together.”

“What about boys lovin’ other boys and girls lovin’ other girls?”

“The fuck did I just say? Love’s a liability. Feelin’s get ya hurt—even more so if those feelin’s is illegal.”

Race struggled to get what he was really asking across, “But if it’s illegal... does that make it wrong?”

‘Mino’s face softened infinitesimally. No one who didn’t know her would even recognize it as softening.

“What did I teach ya, kid? Long as ya don’t get caught, nothin’s illegal. Whether ya love girls or boys or both ain’t my business—it’s still stupid. Now, come on. If we place our bets right, we can both go home with some extra dough.”

Yeah... Race never mastered the whole ‘winning bet-placing’ thing. He never accepted Palomino’s offers to teach him to pickpocket, either, though there were winters where he wished he did.

And he never believed her when she said love was stupid. Because Palomino might have a cynical, angry outlook on life, but Race didn’t. Whenever he asked Waffles or Jack or any of the kids back home in Manhattan, they always said love and soulmates were good things.

Of course, it wasn’t like her opinion mattered anymore. After that winter when Race was 11, he never saw his old mentor again.

Sure, Race didn’t know anything about love besides the platonic bond he had with friends, but he still believed in it with how he saw pairs of his friends fall into it more and more as he got older. Love and soulmates made people happy. That much, he could tell.

Race was 16, Jack was Manhattan’s leader, and he’d been selling at Sheepshead for years when he learned that it wasn’t always that simple.

He and his friend Spot were a little drunk, probably, because Spot had gotten hurt in a fight and hadn’t wanted to drink his cheap booze to dull the pain alone.

Race had met him when he was 12 and Spot was 13, not long after Spot became King of Brooklyn. In the last 4 years, they’d become close friends. He was Race’s best friend, to be honest, besides maybe Albert. Of course, Jack and Crutchie didn’t count because they were more Race’s brothers.

And if Spot was like, really attractive, that didn’t matter. He wasn’t interested in Race. Race didn’t even know if he was interested in boys, period. It was just never something they talked about.

Spot didn’t seem like a Sean, anyway.

“Hey, Spot, buddy, do you ever think about... like... soulmates?” Race asked, trying not to slur his words.

Spot laughed kinda tiredly, “Sometimes. Why?”

“Just ‘cause...” Race tried to think despite his mind being fuzzy, “What do ya think about ‘em?”

Spot just shrugged, “Love’s a liability. Soulmates ain’t an exception.”

“Ooh, I see you’s usin’ Palomino’s philosophy.”

They both laughed.

Was it just the booze making Race slow, or were Spot’s eyes lingering on his lips as he put his cigar in his mouth?

“Oh, Palomino,” he muttered, “That bitch. I ain’t thought about her in a while.”

“That ain’t nice—she’s dead, Spottie.”

“Yeah, which means she ain’t here to care what I say ‘bout her.”

Race’s laugh sounded drunk even to him, “She tried to teach me to pickpocket.”

“She did teach me to pickpocket.”

“Spot, you son of a bitch, you actually let her teach ya to steal?”

“She taught all the younger Brooklyn kids when I was little. She was older and smarter than me, so’s I kinda did whatever she told me. I don’t steal nowadays though, if I can help it. Ain’t worth the trouble with the bulls.”

“She was pretty smart,” Race admitted, “I dunno if she was right ‘bout soulmates, though.”

Spot looked away from Race’s face, taking another swig of alcohol, “She was.”

Race took another sip of his own drink, a bit disappointed, for some reason, “How do ya know?”

“Because Waffles was hers and they both knew it and it just hurt ‘em both.”

“Oh,” Race looked at the floor, “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” Spot laughed, “One pair of Newsies actually landed right side up and it was the one where both of ‘em died.”

“That ain’t funny, Spot.”

Race hadn’t thought about ‘Mino in a while, either. Honestly, he hadn’t even thought about Waffles, and that made him sad because they both deserved to be remembered and—

“Hey, hey, Racer, it’s okay. Don’t cry. That was stupid of me.”

Race remembered to hug Spot gently as his friend embraced him. They were drinking for a reason, so Race avoided touching Spot’s ribs. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his neck.

Spot didn’t hug often, but when he did, it felt special. It felt warm and safe, like home.

“I’m sorry, Race, I just... they actually wound up as a girl and a boy and they wasn’t together, but they should’ve been and... I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”

“I ain’t gonna cry.”

Spot pulled away enough to look him in the eye to make sure he wasn’t lying.

Race couldn’t say he was sorry that Spot kept holding onto him. Their faces were very close together.

“Do ya really think love is stupid, Spottie?”

Spot shrugged, “Everyone I know what’s in it gets hurt. I mean... you’s seen what it does to Cowboy and Mouth, right? Knowin’ all it would take is one bad person findin’ out ‘bout them.”

“But they makes each other happy,” Race pointed out, “Ain’t that what’s really important?”

“I dunno, just seems easier not to have to worry ‘bout it. Soulmates is just another person who can hurt you or be used against you, and besides— just cause the universe says you’s supposed to be in love don’t mean ya have to. I sure don’t give a damn about whoever mine is.”

Race smiled, tapping the piece of cloth Spot used to cover his soulmark, “What’s the harm in your best friend knowin’, then?”

“Why?” Spot teased, “Hopin’ it’s you?”

“I’m fairly certain it ain’t,” Race said, “We’s known each other for years. If we was soulmates, we’d’ve found out by now. Still, ya never have shown me your mark.”

“You haven’t shown me yours, either.”

“Fair.”

Race thought about it for a second.

“What if we showed ‘em at the same time? I mean, ain’t no harm in it, right? Only one of my close friend’s Marks I ain’t seen is yours.”

“Yeah,” Spot muttered, “Same for me, I guess. Showin’ ‘em at the same time sounds fair.”

“Course it is,” Race let go of him, still staying sitting pretty close, and untied the strip of cloth from his own wrist, “Ready?”

Spot untied his, “Set.”

“Go.”

They showed their soulmarks at the same time. By the time of day, it was almost too dark for Race to read the text on his friend’s wrist.

Almost.

Anthony.

“Shit,” Race mumbled under his breath, “Oh my God.”

Spot was still silent, just staring in shock at the name on Race’s wrist.

Any chance of it being a different Anthony was gone, now, by the look on his face.

“Spot...”

Spot finally looked him in the eye, and Race could see pain there, but also some kind of... relief.

Race knew exactly how he felt. He’d somehow... well, he hadn’t expected it, but it wasn’t surprising, either.

He was glad it was Spot. He was glad it was someone he already knew. Someone he already... already loved.

Race dared to lean a little closer, knowing Spot would read his intentions and pull away if he wanted to.

He didn’t pull away, though his deep breath was shaky.

Their faces were close enough that Race could smell what they’d been drinking on Spot’s breath.

He didn’t see any signs of him not wanting it, so Race leaned forward enough to kiss Spot as softly as he knew how.

For a second, he thought maybe Spot was kissing him back, and then hands were on his shoulders, gently pushing him away.

When Race opened his eyes, his soulmate had an extremely pained look on his face, and he was already grabbing his strip of cloth to cover his wrist again.

“I’m—“

“Don’t be sorry, Race,” he said quietly, “Just... go. You’s gonna have to run for it or you’ll miss the last carriage to hitch a ride home.”

A small part of Race was hurt and angry and wanted to argue that, no, they needed to talk about this and they needed to talk about it now.

But Spot looked agonized enough as it was, and the larger part of Race didn’t want to cause him any more pain.

He stood up and walked all the way back home.

#race and spot are dumbass bois #newsies #sprace #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #race x spot #angst #soulmates au #background javid #background snitey #oc: waffles #oc: palomino #violet’s writing

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a-write-for-soreeyes · 5 years ago

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Hurt Before | 10th!Doctor x Teen!reader

Masterlist

Characters: you (y/n), the Doctor, Donna

For the annon who requested this I hope this is okay! I tried my best but this is my first Doctor Who fic❤️

Also, me, posting during quarantine? Less likely than you’d think.

———————————————————————

After one thousand years of traveling alone I finally found him. After one thousand years of love and loss and hope and defeat, I’ve found him. The Doctor.

“Doctor Who?”

“Oh I love when people do that!” he lit up spinning to look at the red haired woman standing next to him,

“I know you love that. Why do you think I asked?” Giving him a smirk I started to glide my way across the control room, slowly placing my hand on the center console.

“Oi what do you think you’re doing mate!” The redhead hollered at me, snapping me out of the trance. Looking back over I jumped up clapping my hands once and rushed over to the Doctor grabbing his face and moving it in my hands moving parts pressing his cheeks and smoothing out the lines on his forehead.

“You’re sadder now.” slowly dragging my hands back down his face I whispered, “who hurt you Doctor.”

“Doctor do you know them?” The girl asked “Or are they just crazy? Because I do NOT want another crazy person on this ship.”

“Oh he does know me he just hasn’t remembered yet.” I said slyly,

“Wots that supposed to mean?” They both asked, looking at me suspiciously.

“It means that the last time you saw me I was a lot younger than this. So much younger.” I muttered as tears started to well in my eyes, quickly blinking them away before going back to hopping around the TARDIS console room.

“Y/n?” The doctor whispered.

“Yeah, what’s up doc?” I asked still pressing buttons and started to slide up a lever closest to me.

“You were just a baby- I- I thought you died, in the battle in Gallifrey.”

Halting my movements I slowly looked up at him letting a small smile form on my face. “See. I knew you’d remember at some point. Didn’t take you too long though.”

“Sorry. Just back it up a bit. You’re telling me that you space boy,” she said pointing over to the doctor, “had a child that you thought died, but is actually standing right there?” She took a breath and started to walk out of the console room, “I’m gonna give you two a minute I’ll be back out for dinner.”

Letting out a small laugh I leant up against the railing around the room.

“You look so grown up.” The doctor whispered, “have you met me before? In your timeline?” He asked as he stood across from me against the console.

“Yeah, I’ve met you before. Not this face though. This is my first time meeting you.”

The Doctor looked down letting his hair fall slightly in his face, “how. How many, um regenerations, have you gone through? If you don’t mind me asking of course.”

Shaking my head I said softly “not too many. I think this is my 6th? So don’t worry, you haven’t missed too much.” I laughed lightly.

Letting the silence fall between us for a few beats he asked, “how old are you?”

“Oh at this point I assume 1500? I lost count a while ago.”

“How old were you when you first met me again?”

“...1256. Exactly 1256, it was my birthday. And I travelled with you, well not this you. Another you, a younger you I suppose.”

“But I haven’t met you since I thought you died- how can you have met a younger me-“ the Doctor started to ramble,

“Spoilers.”

Laughing a bit he looked up at me, “at least tell me that you haven’t been alone this whole time.”

“Of course not! I’ve had you, and others. But nobody lasts long with me.” Distracting me from the face of sympathy he was giving me I started to walk around the room, “everybody...everybody leaves. At some point things get too much for them, too much danger, too much risk. Too-too much me I suppose.” Looking up at the Doctor from across the console seeing tears in his eyes as well.

“You could always travel with me, you know. And Donna, she’d love to have you” shaking my head I started to back away, “really she would love too. I-I would love too.”

“no.” I whispered out. “Everybody always says that, but they never mean it, they all just leave in the end, they leave me alone, they leave it all behind and just” making a motion with my hand, “forget about me.” Wiping my tears with the back of my hand, “I’ve been hurt before. left behind even if they promise not to leave. I’ve stopped trusting people.”

“Come with us. Please. I’ve only just got you back, I can’t lose you again. Not this soon.” Walking right up in my face he said, “at least one adventure. Please.”

Lunging forward I wrapped my arms around him grabbing the back of his jacket and scrunching it in my hands as I let tears slowly fall from my eyes. Suddenly feeling a second pair of arms around me I jumped before realizing it was Donna, letting out a laugh I pulled back from the hug turning to face both of them while wiping the tears from my eyes.

“Alright. One, ONE adventure. And then I have to get back to someone.” Clapping his hands the Doctor ran to the console yelling things about Queen Elizabeth the 1st, Cybermen and other aliens and times.

“He won’t forget about you, you know. And he won’t ever leave you either.” Donna whispered to me. Looking up to face her I smiled. A genuine smile, and she gave one back as she said, “and don’t worry sunshine, I ain’t forgetting you anytime soon either. You can bet on that.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #doctor who x you #doctor who x reader #doctor who #tenth doctor #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader

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priorireverte · 4 years ago

Photo

Congratulations Ash!

Your application for Ted Tonks has been accepted. And we have a simply, truly happy reunion of the formerly dead! Hooray! I’m so happy for the Tonks. Unless . . . things are never as easy or simple as they appear.

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME & PRONOUNS: Ash they/them

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m a front end dev for a virtual event platform who works between 5-7 days a week but I’m usually active after 6pm and on weekends. I have slow weeks when on lighter projects and busier weeks when we have a lot of shows.

ANYTHING ELSE: N/A on triggers. I’ve been roleplaying on tumblr for i think 14 years? Too long.

CHARACTER DETAILS

NAME: Edward “Ted” Álvaro Sepulveda Tonks

BIRTHDATE: October 10th, 1952

DEATHDATE: March 15th, 1998

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cismale, he/him, flexible heterosexual.

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn

HOUSE ALUMNI: Hufflepuff

OCCUPATION: Prior to going on the run, Ted worked as a Broadcaster for the Wizarding Wireless Network. Upon return, he doesn’t have a career yet.

FACECLAIM: Pedro Pascal

CHARACTER BACKGROUND

POSTBELLUM

Ted had been on the run for seven months. Over half a year, without seeing his wife or daughter, spent in the countryside near his childhood holiday spots. Doing just a sad excuse of camping for what? To lose his life to a group of indoctrinated youth and the werewolf who turned his son-in-law?

The pain is the last thing he remembers. Ted was never a stranger to pain. Not during scuffles in primary school or stray hexes in the corridors of Hogwarts. Though he couldn’t say he had ever experienced pain like this, it wasn’t all pain. There was a warmth, not unlike the one he felt when falling asleep to his wife, that urged him to close his eyes. They hadn’t hurt Dean yet and that was the one thing Ted had wanted to make sure of. Not the boy, too young to be going through this. Just him.

Waking up in the Ministry had been a surprise. He expected death or a dungeon, tied to a tree if they were truly desperate, but he wasn’t chained or shackled. There were no ropes keeping him. Just a barrier and soft voices explaining his new reality. He laughed. It was all he could do really. Laugh at his luck, if that’s what it was. He had been brought up Catholic and, if he tried, Ted could still tell you the stations of the cross. He didn’t feel much like Jesus coming back from the dead. He hadn’t done enough with his life to claim that nor would he ever. But the irony of rising again, of another chance at life, got to him. Ted found himself praying before bed. Silently staring up at the ceiling, asking for the safety of his family. His wife, Dora, Remus, and his grandchild. If he recited his prayers, something he hadn’t done in nearly thirty years, perhaps he’d find them safe. Unchanged by the war and happy.

He finds himself running his hand over his throat or chest, searching for scarred skin. There’s no sign of his attack. No physical reminder of what ended his life and, he has to know, did it really end? Why was he given a second chance over so many others? He wasn’t a true Order member. He never fought back against blood supremacy in a strong way. Ted lived his quiet life with his family not wanting to make waves. He had just wanted to be happy.

If he could go back and do it all again, he still would have gone on the run. He would have resisted capture. Stood in front of Dean to give him a chance to run for it. He has regrets of course. Not being with his wife in times of terror and uncertainty. Missing the birth of his grandchild who is no doubt just as much of a terror as Dora had been. But his family’s safety matters much more than his own life does. Well, did.

PERSONALITY

If there’s anything Ted was, or is, good at it’s talking. He can tell a story with a smile clear in his voice and actions. Read an ad or two over the Wizarding Wireless Network like nobody’s business. That’s what he loves most, telling stories. His childhood was filled with stories of his parents’ time in Chile and new tales of Cornish mythology. Those words didn’t leave Ted as he grew older. He still turns to them in times of stress, taking the advice from their lessons to heart. He may know now that life can have struggles but he didn’t used dwell. If you’re a good person, you will have a good life. He knows music can tell a story in the best way. It doesn’t matter what language you speak or know. You can be countries away and hear a song written fifty years ago and the story is clear.

He’s rather gifted in charms, finding that when he discovered magic it was the least imposing course of study. Ted tries to find the beauty in all he can. Charms was just a class that made that easy. It’s how he became interested in broadcasting in the first place. He had fancied he’d be a writer, even though his speech was always better than his writing, but the intersectionality of older muggle technology and magic was too much of a puzzle to pass up.

He’s never been mindful when it comes to tidying up. He’s no tornado. As he’s gotten older, Ted is sure his ways of leaving things around the home and forgetting dates and times has been a constant aggravation to his wife. His sense of time was never good. He tends to get caught up in conversation, appreciating face to face interaction over anything. He always floo calls when you’re supposed to write. Andromeda has dragged him away from too many conversations when they were just supposed out for one errand.

Ted doesn’t know how to deal with loss. His father passed a few years into Dora’s childhood and he never spoke about it much. His mother moved back to Chile soon after. His solution was cooking as much of the food he had grown up with as possible. Playing the music his mother had blasting over the record player in the kitchen during his childhood. Teaching her all the tales he had been taught. All the little lessons he was given.

Inaction could be said to be one of Ted’s failures. He thinks, or thought, that no matter how bad things got there was always a light at the end of the tunnel. He supposes this ideal isn’t gone from him. He’s been given a second chance. Prior to death, he presumed you could muster through anything and if you stayed a good and kind person you could get through to the other side. He was taught God rewarded the good. It was why his parents had immigrated to England before he was born, why they were given the opportunity. They were good people. They deserved a chance to make something of themselves. It was why he and Andromeda were able to build a life together. But not joining the order and taking a stand against blood supremacists and extremists didn’t keep him safe the second time. It didn’t allow his family to be untouched by loss. Things hadn’t worked out until now.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY

Edward “Ted” Álvaro Sepulveda Tonks was born in Truro, Cornwall, England to two Chilean immigrants in the fall of 1952. His parents had moved to Truro prior to his birth for more opportunities. Although they named their son Edward in hopes of assimilation for him and his father anglicized their last name from Tolhauzsen to Tonks, Chilean culture was the main theme of their home. It was baked into every fiber of his being whenever he walked through the door. English was barely spoken in the household, only more so in the time that he and Andromeda lived with his parents. Bringing in take away had to be done under the cover of night or he faced his mother’s stern looks and even sterner words. His mother didn’t work in the traditional sense but as a homemaker excelled beyond compare. His father was an employee at a music store and eventually came to own it.

His parents are the reason Ted is and was so family focused. It was taught to him that family comes before everything and he carried that through with him to adulthood. They were the people who stood by you in all things. Eventually he came to understand that could apply to chosen families as well. It was strange for him to meet Andromeda and learn that not all families put the same values of love and care in places of high honor. Respecting your parents was highly important but loving them and receiving love in return was what that respect was built on.

Despite not growing up the richest, Ted never wanted for much. He was an only child who was rather dotted upon by his parents. To learn that he was a wizard might have been the only serious friction they went through. If not for the day his girlfriend showed up on his doorstep to tell him that she was pregnant. His parents grew to love magic when he came home for the summers and showed them what he had learned but as he grew older, Ted found it harder to see a life where he could stay in their world. In the muggle world at all. It would be like shutting a part of himself off. Like not living up to his full potential.

HISTORY

Hogwarts was a fantasy. There was no other way to describe it. It was nothing like Ted could every dream when he wondered why strange things always happened to him. When he was younger and broke his mother’s vase and it stitched itself back together. Or when he would run home from primary school and make it back in a fraction of the time it took to get there. The answer to any of his happy accidents wasn’t magic. It couldn’t be. And yet, it was. He just didn’t expect a different flavor of exclusion when Hogwarts was presented to him.

Injustice wasn’t unfamiliar to Ted Tonks. Growing up during the mid 1950s, he was used to seeing ‘Keep Britain White’ signs. His parents were strong and kept their heads up despite the riots and protests surrounding them. His father told Ted, stay kind and stay sharp. If you stayed kind, no one could go against you. If you stayed sharp, no harm would come to you. As Ted moved into the wizarding world, he learned that he would not be judged by the color of his skin or his family’s country of origin but his blood was still in no way pure. He leaned on his father’s words and was sorted into Hufflepuff.

Andromeda Black was another happy accident. He’d have had to be blind not to notice her. He didn’t count on her noticing him. He had gained a good group of friends just by his nature but their social circles never interacted. How could they? The segregation of houses, purebloods and non-purebloods, was a clear line. It was during classes that the line was able to be blurred. Mutual tutoring turned into secret meetings over the years. Promised whispers Ted told himself not to believe in or give hope to. It wasn’t until the day Andromeda stood on his doorstep looking very much not like herself, a year after they had graduated Hogwarts and continued seeing each other in secret, that Ted knew she was an inevitability. They weren’t married when Dora became even a speck on the horizon. He was still an intern for WWN at the time and she had given up her whole life for them. For their family. Ted wasn’t sure he would ever be able to sacrifice something that even slightly measured up to the gift she had given him.

Nymphadora wasn’t a name he chose. It wasn’t a name he would have thought of but his later years of Hogwarts had been marked with many nights in the Astronomy Tower learning all the stars from a girl named after one of them. It was certainly more regal than Ted would ever be. And if he happened to know of a certain saint with the same name and told his mother that Andromeda was thinking of converting to Catholicism, no one was the wiser.

Their small home in the country was never a place of worry or fear but some days when Andromeda left for St. Mungo’s, Ted worried until she was back safe and sound in his arms. It took eight years after his daughter’s birth for Ted to feel comfortable bringing her to work with him. To not look over his shoulder in the marketplace for fear someone would be looking for them.

After Dora had left Hogwarts and decided to become an auror, Ted began to worry again. He was good at hiding it. Puttering away in their little garden or forcing his wife to listen to his stories of the new musical group that was destined to become the next Weird Sisters. He kept as busy as he could, even if busy meant learning new recipes with Andromeda or spending nights in the backyard with their telescope. They could endure another war. He wasn’t worried about that. He was worried about Dora, full of her mother’s spirit and wit out there fighting it.

OOC EXPLORATION

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

I think the idea of the dead coming back is such an interesting premise. We never get to learn more about the Veil or the Department of Mysteries and this is such a cool take. Ted is one of my favorite characters who I’ve never been able to portray at an older age.

Also, an rp that values writing over one-liners? Sign. Me. Up.

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS

CHARACTER CONTRIBUTION

Ted Tonks is one of the many minor (minor) characters in the Harry Potter universe but his story is so interesting to me. To decide that he was going to marry a well-known pureblood woman and make a life with her in such a dangerous time is such a heavy decision. I think Ted can represent a lot of good natured and honest qualities, valuing love above all else. I’m truly excited, if I get the chance, to play with how those values can shift if he’s given a second chance at life. Will he be less hesitant than before? More likely to throw himself into the fray? Or will he be even more cautious at staying out of the affairs of others? Family is really the only thing he has left and I believe he cherishes it above all else.

PRESENT

Ted has been back for six days. He’s sat in the Ministry camp, and really what else can he call it? His cot isn’t comfortable, nothing like his bed at home but a supreme upgrade from the forests of England. He’s surrounded by old friends he had fallen out of touch with years ago. People he hasn’t seen since his own time at Hogwarts. There’s still only three people he desperately wishes to see. His wife, his daughter, and his grandchild. But something is wrong and Ted knows that. He hadn’t realized he died when they first told him. He just thought he had been tortured. There’s something in these Unspeakables’ eyes, in the lines of their faces, that tells Ted he had missed quite a lot. The other matter at hand is his wand. He hasn’t been given it back. It’s not odd for him to do things the muggle way. Before all of this, he took a sense of pride in doing things slowly. Taking his time to craft a dish or fold some clothes, it gave him time to think and pause. But since he was eleven years old, Ted has never been without his wand or without magic. When he lays in his cot at night, after a time of silent reflection and prayer that could better be described as a plea to whatever entity is out there, Ted focuses on the small bit of wandless magic he used to be able to do. A lumos he had to learn when Dora was young and used to come into their bedroom in the middle of the night. Eyes full of tears at the dreams of monsters in the dark, under her bed or in the hallway closet. When he was too groggy to grab his wand from the bedside table, a small ball of light at his fingertips was the next best thing. Now, he can’t even muster up the slightest of glow.

#prioriacceptance #ted tonks #edward tonks

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kosmosian-quills · 4 years ago

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Week 2 - Becoming

My next piece for the @yourocsbackstory Antagonist event!

I used to have a very pleasant and friendly relationship with his majesty. I was willing to give him my advice and he took that counsel always, seeing my reasoning as wise and for the best.

I even considered him a friend, despite the difference in our positions. He never pulled rank on me, for any reason, and his family know and trust me as a good friend to all of them.

Well. He pulled rank on me once.

I remember the very day that I saw everything differently. The moment the lens of disillusionment shattered before my very eyes, and I realised just how much I don't see eye to eye with his majesty.

"You reached a decision, your majesty?" I asked, holding out his sash for him to take from me.

The King was stood in front of the mirror in his office, getting himself prepared for the portrait that will be painted of him just this afternoon. Of course I was making sure that he looked presentable, given that he is also celebrating his daughter's 10th birthday today.

"I have, Juliusz," he replied, taking the sash from me and slipping it over his head. I ensured that it was perfectly straight for him at the back whilst he did from the front. "I feel it best to deny the request."

I admit, I was taken aback by his response, but I know my position well enough to not make a fuss about it.

"May I enquire why, your majesty?"

He fiddled with the cufflinks on his blood red coat, not even looking me in the eyes through the mirror, before he turned about and made his way to the door. "Because I do not approve of becoming a surveillance state. I do not wish to be known for being the King that strangled and stifled his subjects."

I followed him out of the door, and down the corridor, back to the throne room where the King is expected to be with his family. We passed a few of the Royal Guard, whom all stop and salute as he approaches and passes. They don't expect any acknowledgement, nor do they get one. As we passed the last pair, I can't help but notice how his jacket is crooked. A disgrace, certainly, and if I wasn't following His Majesty I would have stopped to ensure he makes himself presentable this instant.

"But sire, surely that is a small price to pay to quell the recent rise of terrorist cells?" I countered, "you saw the damage they did to the Stare Miasto, we're lucky it was contained. If your subjects are not with these terrorists, then they have nothing to fear."

"I appreciate your thoughts on the matter, General, but my decision stands. I refuse to allow my subjects to be recorded and monitored under dubious circumstances. What would happen if the wrong person were to gain access to these surveillance archives? Use it to search for people in their own interests? No, it's much safer to keep things the way they are."

"I am trying to keep them safe too, by deterring would-be-terrorists from planning attacks they know we are watching them. You think that not ensuring they are properly monitored and tracked is going to be safer in the long run?"

"I think, General, that my subjects have a right to walk down the road without being recorded in that action. Into their homes, the homes of their families, friends. I certainly wouldn't like it."

"I'm afraid I disagree, your majesty."

Our arrival at the throne room - fully adorned for the celebration taking place today - is what prompts the King to stop, turn around and face me. Ignoring his wife and daughter for the moment, even though they are stood off to the side, waiting for his arrival.

"This discussion is over, General. I am not speaking of this anymore. My decision is final. The request has been denied." His eyes are stern, with that look that he knows will end this argument. He doesn't need to say it, I am the King, because it's all over his face. Those brown eyes of his cold as steel.

I don't agree. I don't think this is wise.

I swore to serve him, and yet here, it's painfully clear to me that nothing I say will change his mind at all. Why would he disregard all my advice and counsel now? After the many years we have worked together, and he has always followed that advice.

I suppose I'm not used to being disagreed with.

"Yes, your majesty."

He nods, turning around to go join his family. I can just barely hear what he says to them.

"Sorry about the delay." His Majesty says to his loving wife - to his Queen- who barely pays me any mind as the three of them move to the spot where the artist is directing them to stand. Of course, she looks as radiant as ever in that long emerald dress, with the bare shoulders and silver gloves, not a crease on her.

"Nothing serious, I - Anjelika, stop fiddling with it."

The Queen's words are punctuated by her sharp comment to the Princess, stood between them scratching at her neck, where the neckline of the deep blue dress is. Long sleeved and flowing, it's certainly one of the more formal dresses that belongs to Her Royal Highness.

The Princess turns around to look at her mother, who had rested a hand on her shoulder. "But mother, it's itchy -"

"Don't fidget then, and it won't itch." The King responds, resting his hand on the Princess' other shoulder.

The Princess doesn't argue, merely clasps her hands together as instructed, and waits there whilst the artist offers his final requests for them to stand still, the blank canvas will not be like that for much longer.

An incredible tradition, that is. Something I know the King was looking forward to completing. He was 10 years old when he was painted before, a whole 27 years ago. His mother before him, her father before her. All a proud tradition for the Royal Family, and this won’t happen again until the young Princess herself has children of her own. The King always told me that he’ll never forget the day his first portrait was painted, not because of the enormous responsibility of the tradition, but because his younger brother had managed to stain his jacket just before the portrait was painted, and their mother was not impressed. The artist, at least, had the sense to quietly edit that out of the final portrait, but it’s still something he could look back on and smile.

I wonder how it would feel to be stood there. Not even for two of them, for just *one* portrait. Immortalised forever in ink and paint, hung proudly on the wall, for future generations to look at and revere just like we do now.

I wonder…

Just how likely it would be for me to be on the next one, stood beside His Majesty’s daughter. I wonder whether the King would even accept that kind of proposal from me, but at least he would know that his daughter would be in safe hands at least. With someone he can trust. Rather than some stranger, who would only want to marry her for her title.

Of course, it’s far too early to think about such things. But I still wonder.

What it would cost me to be in that portrait?

#my writing #my oc's #WIP: Angel #POV: The General #yourocbackstory #oc backstory weeks #Week 2 - Becoming #took me A While to finish this one XD

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charlesoberonn · 5 years ago

Text

The Truth Always Comes Out

Words: 2,875

Genre: science fiction, romance

Summary: On August 15th, 1929, Harry Hanover cheats on his wife. For the next 90 years, he is unstuck in time and watches as his life slides past him.

On August 15th, 1929, Harry Hanover cheated on his wife Margaret.

Her name was Annie Wesburner. She knew he was married.

It started a few months beforehand when she and her college friends visited the resort town of Munsee, New Jersey -Where Harry lived happily with Margaret and their two children- for the spring break. She caught his eye immediately. She was beautiful, and barely older than Margaret was when they got married after Harry returned from the war.

She and Harry hit it off, but nothing happened between them on that trip. Two week later she returned to her home in upstate New York. They continued writing letters in secret for a number of months before they decided to meet up again. She was going to Paris soon to complete her studies there, and they would not have the opportunity to meet again for many years. They decided the place of their meeting to be New York City.

Harry reserved two rooms in the Plaza Hotel, one for himself and Margaret, and the other for Annie. On the night between the 14th and the 15th, when Margaret was fast asleep, Harry went down to the 6th floor and had sex with Annie. It was quiet and almost wordless, as though the sleeping Margaret could hear them from 10 stories above them. When they were done, Harry felt nothing. She wanted him to stay, but he told her to checkout as soon as she could and never speak to him again.

The next morning, Harry pretended to wake up next to Margaret. He kissed her and whispered to her ear “Happy 10th anniversary.”

He never told her what happened that night. He decided to spend the rest of his life making it up to Margaret.

On August 15, 1930, Harry and Margaret Hanover celebrated their 10th year anniversary again. It confused Harry at first. He asked Margaret if she was mistaken. She told him she would never forget such an important milestone. Harry thought his mind was slipping. The times were hard, and Munsee was experiencing the brunt of the depression as fewer and fewer people could afford vacations at the beach town.

Harry decided to investigate the matter. He looked at the filing cabinet to find their marriage certificate and indeed, it now said that they wed in 1920, when before it said 1919. And weirder than that, he looked at his birth certificate which now said he was born in February of 1898, as opposed to 1897.

It soon was made clear that this is no practical joke, as even strangers all confirmed the story of his and Margaret’s wedding in the summer of 1920. He tried to take his mind off of it, and enjoy the modest celebration the now much poorer family could afford in the local Munsee family diner.

By their 10th time they celebrated their 10th anniversary in August of 1939, Harry was used to it, though not disturbed any less. Things were better now in the world, though in two weeks the war would start and things will once again get worse.

According to records and his family’s memories, they were now wed on 1929. Their wedding, ironically enough, was held in the Plaza Hotel in New York City. He seemed to recall the event in his memory, alongside his memory of the original wedding in the local baptist church in Munsee in 1919.

The same thing happened with memories of his childhood. He remembered his original boyhood in the turn of the century alongside his “new” childhood in the 1910s, while his older cousins were off in Europe, fighting in the war he was too young to fight. Their stories from that war upon their return were very similar to his memories of his own war experience.

His son and daughter, who were born in 1922 and 1926 respectively, were no longer his own, but from a previous husband of Margaret. He found that bit of fate to be particularly cruel, but he had no soul to vent to about the injustice, lest he be hospitalized. He met that supposed first husband a number of years ago. He was nice enough of a man, though he broke it off with Margaret fairly soon after their second child was born, which infuriated Harry.

Margaret decided to celebrate the anniversary in the Plaza Hotel again, although Harry was very much against the idea. He looked at his wife’s face. Though his birthday kept being pushed forward, hers remained the same, and she has grown older and older in front of his forever young eyes. When they married, she was two years younger than him, now she was eight years older.

They celebrated in the Plaza Hotel despite his protests. And for a second he thought he saw Annie among the guests, though that would’ve been impossible.

Harry and Margaret celebrated their 10th year anniversary again on August 15, 1959. For Harry, it was their 40th. Harry had known this old woman for most of their life, but she had known him for barely a decade and some. It was discouraging, as every fact about him which was older than a few decades would be swept away from her memory and all records.

His children were now adults with their own children. And even though he tried to be a part of their lives, they clearly didn’t care much for this man who married their aging mom when they were in their teens. That broke his heart most of all. He tried to be active in the lives of his young grandchildren, but knowing he was too young to be their “real” grandfather, they too didn’t connect with him as much as he’d like.

Only Margaret was the constant in his life. He doted on her and loved her no matter how much she changed. He saw her through wars and through hardships, both financial and physical. As her health waned, he doted on her even harder, nursing her to health, or as close to health as he could. But it was clear she wasn’t in her best.

Sometimes he’d be thinking back to who she was 10 years ago, and who he was 40 years ago, and he wondered if that young man would’ve married that old woman, like everyone remembers it happening. He’d clear those thoughts out of his mind and focus on the now. Though he knew that this now would soon slip away from him.

The American landscape was always changing, and it was hard to adjust. He’d get comments about how he doesn’t act according to his age, and how he’s like an old man, so it’s not surprise he married a woman almost twice his age.. He’d often jokingly comment to his aging friends about how he wished he was born in their generation, hoping that maybe he could make them remember, or least suspect about what’s happening to him. But alas, it never worked.

Right now, all he wanted was to give Margaret a good 10th wedding anniversary celebration in their house with their friends and their reluctant children and grandchildren.

On February 23rd, 1989, a few months before their 10th year anniversary, Margaret died at age 90. She lived a good life, he hoped. Many people said that she got to live this long because in her last 10 years she had him. His grandchildren were older than him and they had their own children and even, and they all came to the funeral.

He looked down as his wife of 70 years was being lowered into the grave in their backyard, and he cried.

Their own old house in Munsee was too old and too expensive to live in, so after the funeral Harry took what little he inherited from his wife, sold it and bought a small apartment in San Francisco. He wanted to be as far away from New York and the Plaza hotel as possible.

In the weeks counting up to August 15th, he wondered what would happen. Would his wife return to life, would he be thrown back in time. Was there even a significance to their 10th anniversary that made it return every year, wiping another year from his past in its wake?

He thought about what else happened on the night of August 15. He could barely remember Annie’s face, but her name ringed his ears every year when he contemplated his fate. Was she responsible? Was he responsible? He went back and forth between thinking he was being punished to thinking he was being cursed. Eventually, he thought nothing at all.

On August 15, he was the only one who noted their 10ths year anniversary. Margaret was still dead, he was still in San Francisco. He wondered if that meant it was over. It wasn’t.

The more time went on, the shorter their marriage was. Every year, on the 10th anniversary, his friends and aging grandchildren would think less and less of him. Some still saw him as somebody who doted on Margaret and made her happy in the last years of her life, others thought of him as an opportunist taking advantage of a dying woman to inherit her wealth.

On August 15, 1999, his marriage was wiped from history. The documents disappeared, his family didn’t recognize him. He was still in his early 30s.

He tried to ignore the feeling inside him at first. He wondered about trivial things, like how his new co-workers in the tech company he worked on remembered his life, and where the money for his apartment 10 years ago came from. It came from his parents, the original Hanovers, which had changed identities so many times in the passing decades he didn’t even bother to remember who they were now or to maintain a relationship with them.

It was only after a couple of weeks that the pain of this loss really got to him.

For the next couple of decades his mind was weary. He was over 100 years old. A century of memories and alternate memories stored in his brain. He had to distract himself every day to stop himself from endless reminiscing that could go on for hours. He had difficulty making sense of his own life, and often had to rely on outside sources to figure out where and who he was at this point in his life. He wondered if that’s what people with Alzheimer's felt like inside their head. Fortunately, Margaret never had to suffer through that awful disease in her final days.

Funnily enough, people started referring to him as a millennial again, just like they did in his original childhood in the turn of the previous century.

He never married again, of course. There was no point experiencing that anguish all over again. He doubted he could even retain a relationship when they’d always be dating for less than a year in her mind. He didn’t have as much difficulty keeping up with new technology and trends anymore. He didn’t have Margaret to keep him grounded anyway. He was as free-flowing in his own life as he was in the memories of others.

He checked up on his great-great-great-grandchildren from time to time, wondering what they were up to. They lived relatively normal lives, had dates, went to college. Some of them served in the military like him. Some of them were Hanovers again, much to his surprise. By the time of the 1950s they had the surname of Margaret’s “first” husband who she married long before he was even born. Looking back at their and his publicly-available genealogy, he saw that his great-grandaughter married a descendant of one of his original cousins. It was nice knowing that in some way they were family again.

Recently he started wondering if he made it all up. If he was insane. If he just picked a random woman who died decades ago and imagined an elaborate decades long marriage with her on a sliding timescale that kept pushing him forward in time. Maybe none of it was real, and he was in a mental asylum, still in 1929, imagining he’d gone to the future.

It was April 2019. He wanted to visit Margaret’s grave for the 30th anniversary of her death. She was dead at this point for almost as long as he was alive according to the outside world. His family probably wouldn’t like it. At least he was just a stranger to them now instead of the man who took advantage of their elderly matriarch.

April passed and he didn’t regret the decision, though pangs of guilt occasionally tormented him, but never for longer than a couple of minutes.

On August 16th, he was barely thinking about the anniversary that happened the day before. It’s been too long. On that morning, he received a message on Facebook. It was from Annie Westburner. For the first 10 seconds he was shocked. 10 seconds after that he was looking through her pictures. All of them were recent, in all of them she looked the same age she did 90 years ago.

Memories of their affair all those decades ago flooded his brain. He cried out in pain. The regret and guilt panged his heart as much as the memory ached his head.

They agreed to meet up again. In Munsee, now renamed Aquaton Beach.

They found each other at the location of his old house, which was converted into a small graveyard for the community. It was surrounded by high rise condos which were built in recent years. Their long shadows provided nice shade for the slightly unkempt cemetery.

“You look the same.” he said to her. They were the only two in the place.

Before she could answer him, he looked down and saw Margaret’s tombstone. She wasn’t a Hanover, hasn’t been for 20 years. Or really, has never been. Next to her was his son’s grave, which he didn’t realize had died a couple of years prior. He felt like a fool.

“You look pretty good, too.” Annie answered.

“How has the last 90 years been for you?” he asked.

“It’s only been a few days for me, actually.”

“I see.” That surprised Harry, but he didn’t react. He just sighed and looked down.

At Margaret.

“I was born in this era.” Annie explained. “1998.” she looked at Harry, he didn’t look back.

“Last year I found out I could travel back and forward through time. I could implant myself into the era like I was always there.”

“Is that when you met me?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…” he sighed. “I looked for you. Numerous times. In Paris. But you weren’t in Paris. I thought you lied to me. I thought your name was fake. You did lie to me. You didn’t go to Paris.” he didn’t sound angry.

“No, I returned to 2019.”

“Why did you contact me?”

“I looked you up.” she smiled, though her smile didn’t last. “I wanted to see what kind of life you had, after me. I couldn’t find you in the records. Then I looked you up on Facebook. That’s when I realized I must’ve dragged you into the present with me.”

“Did it happen to you before?”

“Yeah. With a few guys. But never for longer than 10-15 years. Certainly not anywhere as long as you.”

Harry paused. He clenched his fist, but then loosened it. He didn’t have the strength. Despite how he looked, he was over 120 years old.

“Do you know what it’s been like for me?”

“Listen, I didn’t do it on purpose. It’s just that it sometimes happens. Especially when I want somebody to stay with me. My power has a way to bring them to me.”

“I’m not looking for excuses. I’m asking if you know.”

“I don’t. I never really asked.”

Harry looked down again, this time at the ground. He paused for a long time. “So now what?”

“There’re a couple of options:” she started counting on her fingers. “I can free you, so you’ll start aging again. I can even erase the last 90 years from your memory, so your memory will match that of the outside world. I can even take you with me next time I travel.” she grabbed onto his hand. “If you want.”

He looked at her hand. He wanted to swat her away, but he just loosely let go. “Can you put me back?” he looked at Margaret.

“Yes. I can. I can put you back before we met. You can retain your memories or not.”

“Put me back in the Plaza Hotel. After you left.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want to come clean to her. I want to make it up to her, for real.”

“Okay.” Annie looked saddened. She sighed and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, Harry Hanover was no longer there. Not in life, at least.

She looked back at Margaret’s headstone, which now had a different name.

“Margaret Hanover, Mother to many, 1899-1989”

Next to her was another grave, with a slightly newer headstone.

“Harry Hanover, Loving Husband, 1897-1989”

On August 19th, 2019, Annie Westburner turned around and left the cemetery.

#writing

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

survey by nadine07

[..Introductions..] First Name: Stephanie.

Middle Name: I don’t want to share that.

Last Name: Not sharing that either.

Birthdate: July 28th.

[..First Things First..] What was the first thing you did after you got up? I stayed in bed for a few hours after watching TV, scrolling through Tumblr, checking my social medias, and talking to my aunt. She’s been staying here for the past week and sleeps in my room and we’re both insomniacs who sleep late.

What was the name of your first pet? Our dog, Buster. I only vaguely remember him because I was really little.

Who was your first big crush? This boy in my class named Tim when I was in 3rd grade.

Where was the first place you drove after you got your license? I don’t drive or have my license.

Who was your very first friend? These two girls, Crystal and Starr, when I was in preschool.

What was the first thing you ate today? Wingstop for dinner.

What was your first job? I haven’t had a job.

[..Colors..] Name something red in the room you are in: My doggo’s bag of food.

Is orange one of your school's team colors? I’m not in school anymore.

How many yellow shirts do you own? A couple, I think.

Name someone you know who drives a green car: My dad.

Is it a blue sky outside right now? No, it’s pitch black.

What is the first thing that pops into your head when I say 'purple'? Grapes.

Are the walls in the room you're in white? Yep.

Does black make you think of depressing things? I suppose I do associate it more with that or like edgy things.

Jewelry: gold or silver? Both.

[..Phone Stuff..] Who is your provider? Verizon.

How long have you had your current phone? I just got this past Christmas.

What did your last text say? My aunt shared a video she took of my doggo.

If you woke up naked next to the last person to call, would it be awkward? Uh, yeah to say the very least cause that was my mom.

Was your last missed call male or female? Female.

Who is your 10th phone contact? I’m not checking.

How did you meet them? --

Are you related to your 17th phone contact? --

How long have you known your 1st phone contact? --

When was the last time you saw them? --

Who is your 4th phone contact? --

Have you ever kissed that person? --

When was the last time someone drunk dialed/texted/left a voicemail? Like 10 years ago.

[..Friends..] Who is your #1? Myspace died a loooong time ago. I also don’t hve any friends, so.

How long have you known them? --

Have you ever kissed? --

Are you dating this person? --

Do you have nicknames for each other? --

What is your #2's full name? --

Do they live within 20 minutes of you? --

How did you meet? --

Could you live with this person? --

Who is your #3? --

Where are they right now? --

When is this person's birthday? --

Has this person ever seen you naked? --

What is your #4's full name? --

When did you last see them? --

Have they ever dated one of your other friends? --

Do you know their favorite movie? --

[..Randomosity..] What time is it? 11:28PM.

Are you supposed to be doing something other than this? Nah.

Do you live on your own or with your parents? I live with my parents, brother, and doggo.

Are you more of a cat or a dog person? Dog, for sure. <<<

Are you allergic to anything? Tangerines and seasonal allergies.

Does your shirt have anything written on it? Yeah, it says Disneyland across the top on the back.

Have you ever tie-dyed something? Yeah, when I was a kid.

Who can you always count on to cheer you up? My doggo.

How many places have you been today? From my bed to the living room, bathroom, and kitchen, ha.

Are you a forgiving person? Yes.

When was the last time you felt let down? I’m always feeling down.

What is the title of the nearest book to you? I’m in the living room and there aren��t any books around, currently. Are you wearing anything that belongs to someone else? No.

Can you whistle? Nope.

Do you look more like your mother or your father? My mom.

Are you still in high school? I graduated well over 10 years ago now.

Are you the oldest, middle, youngest, or an only child? I’m the middle kid.

Has anyone ever told you that you talk in your sleep? I’ve been told that before when I was much younger. I have no idea if I still do.

How many people have you kissed this year? Zero.

Is there anyone of the opposite sex you trust fully? Yes.

Are you a night owl or an early bird? Both, I guess, considering I don’t even go to bed until like 7 or 8AM. If I actually go to bed before then, though, I have a really hard time getting up early and have no desire to.

If you could have an exotic pet, what would it be? Nah.

Would you rather go to Brazil for the weekend or Finland for a month? I’ll take the month long trip.

[..And Finally..] Where did you go the last time you drove somewhere? I don’t drive.

Where did you last go out to eat at? I think it was Denny’s back before the pandemic hit. I get takeout all the time, though, especially from Wingstop, which I had for dinner tonight.

When was the last time you let someone borrow something from you? I don’t remember.

Was your last breakup a bad one? I had a really hard time when things ended and we hadn’t even actually dated. We had something, though, going on for 3 years. The feelings were there and very real, at least on my end. He completely played and used me.

What was the last song you listened to? I don’t remember. I haven’t listened to music for like 2 months now, it’s weird.

What was the last movie you watched? I’m currently watching, “He’s Just Not That Into You.”

Did your last kiss happen in a public place? I think so. It was almost 10 years ago, so my memory of it is foggy.

How did you meet the last person to leave you a comment? I’d have to check who that was and I’m lazy.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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keepswingin · 4 years ago

Note

What about something with Wyatt and.Cobalt Silver? (I know I'm not much help)

so apparently the cobalt silver is the stuff that’s used in that part in flesh and bone in case anyone was wondering like I was lol but that’s all you really need to know for this one!

i’m here (but don’t count on me to stay)

There’s something about humans in their environment that makes his skin crawl.

He doesn’t like the way they eye him from their balconies, their laughter ceasing until there’s nothing but silence and hallow gazes that seem to sear his skin. He doesn’t like the way families huddle closer together as he passes, holding their children tight, because they still see him as threatening even with a grocery bag in one hand and a jug of milk clutched in the other.

He doesn’t like the teenagers that hang around the liquor stores, drinking from paper bags - whiskey mostly, he can smell it from down the street - obnoxious as they drone on and on with drunken babble no passerby listens to. He doesn’t like the loners either, the ones out in thick jackets with their hands stuffed into their pockets on a night that’s far from chilly.

Being out in a world that isn’t his, one he’s still learning about years later and still not fully used to, it puts him on edge, and the humans do nothing to make that edge any less sharp.

This place made Seabrook look like something out of a fairytale, he thinks to himself bitterly.

His phone chooses then to ring from his pocket, startling his already ansty heart. He exhales slowly as he shifts the jug of milk to his other hand, careful not to tip the grocery bag or shuffle around the donuts he had snuck in for himself with the things they had actually needed.

“Hello?” he answers as he shoves the phone beside his ear, keeping half an eye on the surrounding buildings bustling with activity around him.

“Hey,” Addison replies, and she sounds...worried? Something inside him twists suddenly, his eyes catching on a car that revs from where it sits at the light.

“You sound worried,” he tells her quietly, trying his best to keep his voice steady. He was probably overreacting because of this new city, with all these new people and all this new noise.

“Only a little,” she admits, and he can hear the pitch in the breath she releases, “are you close?”

He looks at the street sign at the corner he’s approaching - 5th Street - which is still a few roads over from where their apartment sits on 10th. He could cut through an alley, save some time, but he’s not really feeling an alley is the best way to go right now as he passes another family that goes out of their way to be away from him.

He sighs, “I’m still a few streets over.” He decides to cut right to the point. “What’s going on?”

“There was an armed robbery a few minutes ago and - “

He can’t help the scoff that escapes him. “So much for this place being safe,” he mutters.

“No city is safe,” his fiancée rebukes, a bit of an edge to her tone. He doesn’t answer, instead adjusting his grip on the milk. He should’ve gotten the half-gallon. “I’m sorry,” she says a moment later, “this place was supposed to be safe. Apparently it’s the first big crime around this place in a while so,” she trails off, and the irony isn’t lost on him.

“So we’re just lucky,” he finishes for her, and he’s successful in making her laugh at least. He smiles. There’s a cop car heading down the street, slow as it stops at the light, dark in the shadow of the full moon above. “Where was the robbery at?”

“Close enough for me to be worried that you’re out right now,” she says wryly, “they stole a bunch of stuff from the Walmart and the gas station next door. A few took off in a car, one took off on foot. The police haven’t found anyone yet.”

“Stealing from Walmart is a new low isn’t it?”

He watches as the cop car passes him, it’s tires crunching on the cracked pavement. Addison chuckles, “Were you able to get everything?”

The car makes a u-turn behind him - he can hear it, the sharp turn of the tires, the hiss of the engine - before pulling up next to him. The window rolls down, revealing an officer in his mid-forties with a goatee that’s turning grey.

“Hold on Ads,” he whispers, directing his attention to the police now rolling alongside him.

“Heading home?” the officer asks, his squadmate watching from the passenger seat.

“Late night shopping trip,” Wyatt answers with a light laugh before turning his attention back to Addison. “Sorry. Just some cops asking where I was going.”

“Why are they asking where you’re going?” He shrugs, and is hyper aware when the cop car rumbles to a stop.

“No idea.”

He keeps his voice as even as possible, not wanting to worry her more than she already is. “It’s a load of bullshit is what it is,” she responds, and it’s then that he hears boots behind him.

“Can you stop walking, wolf?” The same officer from before calls, raising his voice enough for passerby to stop and look and murmur amongst themselves.

Wyatt turns around, coming to a stop as the officers approach him. The older officer has his hands clasped together, but the younger officer - who barely looks old enough to be a cop - has his hand over something small on the back of his belt. Wyatt can’t see what it is but his heart is beating faster and faster by the minute.

“Something wrong officers?” he asks, calm and collected, Addison asking him what’s wrong with increasing panic from the phone line. “I’m just trying to get home to my fiancée for some late night movies.”

“Do you have your ID on you?” the older officer questions.

Inside he curses himself, because of course the one time he didn’t bring it with him he needed it - he hated carrying a wallet with a passion, something he still didn’t enjoy about human life one bit. He didn’t like anything weighing him down, in the forest that wasn’t the way things were done, but outside it, humans enjoyed carrying more than they needed.

Wyatt’s heart is thrashing against his ribcage now, his moonstone humming with more urgency, and something inside of him telling him to run. To leave, to get as far away as possible, because these officers were barking up the wrong tree, and he was at the center of it.

“No sir, I don’t,” he replies, “didn’t think I’d need it for a run to the store a few corners over.”

“Wyatt,” Addison begs from the phone, her voice crackling against his ear, horror stories from her father and from the history books flashing through her head. No police were good when it came to werewolves, or zombies, or anyone different.

He hears it before he sees it.

His eyes snap to the younger officer, to the thing he pulls from his belt.

It’s a small container, something printed on the side of the metal that he can’t see, and then it’s spraying in his direction, and even with the dodge he uses with a jolt of power from his moonstone, whatever it is that comes from the container catches the corner of his elbow and then his skin is on fire.

He cries out, the grocery bag falling to the ground, the jug of milk breaking open against rough cement, his phone skidding across the sidewalk.

He reaches for his elbow with his opposite hand, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin that’s bright red and burning silently, and his fingers begin burning before he can pull them back fast enough.

“Goddamn it!” he hears the older officer shout, two pairs of boots advancing toward him, but the fire is twisting and thrashing like his heart is, and when someone’s hands go to grab at the excat same elbow that’s burning, he growls and shoves them off.

His eyes flash brightly as he moves away from the men, but they push forward, their hands still reaching.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” the older officer contuines, his voice muffled in Wyatt’s roaring ears.

“It’s a fucking werewolf, no matter what we did it was just going to attack us anyway!”

One hand is successful in closing around his elbow, but that just closes the fire in, drags it across his skin, and he growls again and pulls back, but before he can get far there’s someone on top of him, attempting to pin him to the ground.

That same something from before is sprayed at his back, catching arms and sinking through his shirt to the skin underneath, fire everywhere, blossoming and igniting and rippling. His moonstone hums angrily and flashes bright blue as he pushes the men off him with little difficulty, and then stumbling to his feet and running, power flowing through his veins and making his legs pump faster.

He needs to escape, he needs to go, to run, because he doesn’t know what will happen later, but he also doesn’t want to find out what happens now if he sticks around. Nothing good, his brain supplies, if the fire still racing across his skin was any indication.

The pain distracts him from hearing the cock of a pistol, the action of a bullet being slotted into place from inside the gun.

He doesn’t hear the bullet.

He feels it, something rupturing his skin and mixing with the fire, and sees it, when the bullet brings him to a sudden stop, looking down and seeing dark red seep from the middle of his chest.

He brings his hands to the red, pressing his palms flat against it before pulling them back, almost in disbelief when he sees them slick with dark red liquid that should be inside his body, not outside it. He hears shouting, and screaming, and so many other noises, and before he knows what’s happening there’s the shattering sound of another bullet unloading into his back, and another, and another.

His moonstone hums, louder in his ears than the noise around him, and then everything goes black.

#asks #keepswingin writes #mine #if you guys want a sequel lemme know 😂#i’ll add a read more the next time i’m on the computer sorry guys!#but yeah #he ded #:)#2021edit @me fix this later

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sonatanotwo · 5 years ago

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Well... I barely slept. 😂 Least I’ve got coffee... Gonna try to fumble out some words... (Spoilers ahoy!)

I didn’t quite expect the emotional roller coaster this has turned into... and not entirely cause of the episode itself. 😂 It’s feeling ever so bitter sweet... mostly in that experiencing something so emotional without a lot of the people that made up this sorta... fandom home? that it was to me. All the friends I love and care about. It’s... been feeling kinda lonely... Even though I’m not alone of course, but... yeah. It’s hard to explain. 😂 And then with this looking like the end (...though I kinda doubt ITV is gonna shelve the franchise for another 10+ years... least I sure hope not. That’d seem VERY dumb to me. But what will they do with it? That’s the real big question, ain’t it? XD I was a bit agape after attaching ‘Season’ to every time they spoke of ending that today they finally changed their tune and was like THE END. What the ever loving heck, ITV. Seriously. 😂 BUT I digress...) ...IDK if any of that feeling will ever come back now. Shit changes... god, do I ever know it does... but I guess... I just wasn’t ready for it yet. ;A;

...And boy is my body telling me that. 😂 Anxiety is such an asshole.

ANYHOO.

SO.

This ep.

As I mentioned when I gif’d it (opening my gif making stuff was first thing I did XD) that HUG man. That old hug art I did, the original version (the one you see commonly around now is the tweaked one) was one of my first finished (ish) TAG piece (only few rough doodles and half coloured things were before that lol) that I posted June 10th 2015.... so long ago. (My first post that was some sketches was June 2nd XD Yeah, I’ve been around a long while now, blimey. Not quite the VERY very start, but nearly!)

BUT YEAH. I was wanting this hug for a VERY, VERY long time. XDDD Just, back then, didn’t think it’d involve their Dad too. lol

And then, gosh... Scott in this ep... Last ep was def more Scott heavy... to balance he was stepped back a bit, but... it did make sense? Scott just seems quietly basking in the feeling of having his Dad back. Him hanging back from the hug for a moment having that exchange with his Dad feels a bit like a... passing back the torch? Here they are Dad. I took good care of them. :Db Does that make sense??? IDK. I’m so tired you guys. 😂 But it didn’t feel like Scott needed to say anything. It was written all over his face. He must have been so happy... and relieved. It’s pretty overwhelming in all the best way to hear from someone you haven’t in awhile... so... in this case, it must be turned up to like... an 11. ^^a

Man, I don’t think I can go through this in order so, bear with me if I bounce around.

There’s been so much wondering what this version of Jeff would be like all these years... and in such a short time, we definitely got a LOT to go off of. He’s a Dad who definitely doesn’t hesitate to hug his sons. :3 Fears Grandma as much as the boys, lolololol HUGS HIS ENGINEER. I actually really just... LOVED that scene with Brains. That casual, ‘Hi Brains.’ And then just calling him PARTNER and going right in for a hug... and lol Brains’ lil happy sound. Jeff and Brains were certainly friends in TOS, but there was still a kinda distance between them in that Brains is working for Jeff, but that was definitely laid out to be much different in TAG. I’m not surprised by it, cause Brains is def part of the family, but it was lovely they took the time to show it.

ALSO just how he picked up Virgil was dwelling on something... we don’t really get a window into what exactly... but after all those years, he just... picks right up on Virgil’s in some turmoil. (As said in a tag... MAYBE MOM RELATED? He seems to think Virgil’s worried if he’ll really be okay, which is why I wonder... GONNA DEF WRITE SOME FIC THOUGH. XDb) Like. GOSH. I’m sad we aren’t likely to see more of this Jeff, cause with this single ep, he was absolutely sold on me. And I love he was a total presence... but he did sit back quietly and other than dealing with ‘Brains’ and largely just *watched*. Scott was still in charge here.

So as for the end and what role Jeff is gonna play... WELL... I mean. To be fair here at the end, John is probably changing and heading to the elevator... and I mean, we’ve seen Grandma fill in several times for John... he can’t be awake CONSTANTLY, so I’d always felt a bit like maybe they’d gradually gel into a team with just... one more member. And that seems more likely now that we’ve seen he didn’t just... jump to take command. He sat back and let them do their thing.

And now we can see Jeff is def a bit younger... and as kinda already implied, is definitely one to get his hands dirty, so sometimes (once he’s recovered a bunch) maybe he’ll even go out with the boys. That’d be my guess. ^^a I mean, might be a little kinda jostling at first to settle into a new routine... but while he certainly has a strong presence... he’s also did kinda feel... a bit gentle too? He’s not nearly as stern as TOS!Jeff. It felt like a good balance??? IDK. I’m rambling up a storm. XDDD (...and making walls of text... I should... break these up more lol...)

OKAY ALSO...

WAIIIIT wait. WAIT. This looks familiar. V E R Y familiar... Bridge... rockety thing at bottom... explody warning? Two people inside... *squints* DAY OF DISASTER? IS THAT YOU?

I HAVE A FEELING... If so... //CHEF KISS// VERY NICE. A+ XD

OKAY. WHAT ELSE. Uh. Glad they did end up using Fuse’s (or I guess I could say Clarence’s :D) mixed feelings, which was good and gave Grandma a heck of a moment of awesome. They also served to give some action for Kayo, Penelope and Parker which was good else I suppose they’d have been standing around worriedly. lol Which isn’t really suited to their characters. XD YEAH just lotta nice moments, especially with Kayo and Grandma. ANd just. YEAH. GRANDMA MAN. YOU TELL HIM. and also OMG she was a doctor?! THAT sure explains some things. XD And that’s awesome, gosh.

ALSO the number of HUGS in this ep were A+ Getting a moment with Jeff and Grandma was lovely. :D

LIKE REALLY. LOOK HOW HUG HAPPY THIS DAD IS. I AM PLEASED. A+

And just lol... ‘I don’t even have a car yet.’ ‘You have a rocket.’ ‘...oh yeah. That’s true.’ LOLOL SUCH ALAN. He is too cute.

...AND yeah. IDK. I feel like I’m forgetting things. I’ll ramble them into another post if I think of things. I gotta pop out for a bit. 😂

BUT YEAH. Yeah, there’s few things they didn’t get to addressing, but there were hugs and emotions which was what was really the important thing, right? :Da I don’t really feel like nit picking when had all that. XDDD

(It is kinda interesting how in a way the ending reminded me of Legacy’s a bit with a ...Oh we got an emergency. It’s a good note to leave off of... but goes to show when maybe S1 was written, it was largely on the assumption that it could be the only season... but then were able to hint of S2 in an additional scene. But if S2 hadn’t been commissioned, it was sorta ready to be a finale if it had to. In a way S2 was the same, though with bit more hints of S3 were there so... Just kinda interesting. =Oa But also nice that Rob has left it in a way that NEVER SAY NEVER (to quote Rob) is definitely open. ^^)

ANYHOO. That’s all my rambling for now. ^^

#~OOC Post #Thunderbirds Are Go #TAG Spoilers #Spoilers #Episode: The Long Reach (Part 2)#here is my thoughts finally #and by thoughts I mean #lots and lots of rambling #I am SO so tired #I feel like I'm forgetting something I was thinking of...#but I also might be sleepily delusional lol #anyhoo... :3

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badmcuposts · 4 years ago

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Seven-Pointed Star

For @avenging-criminal-bones by @badmcuposts [OR READ HERE on AO3]

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: T for language

Relationships: minor Peter/MJ, Peter & Tony, minor Tony/Pepper, Peter & May, Tony & May

Warnings: angst, suicidal thoughts

Summary:

He frantically ran out of the room, ignoring Obadiah’s calls behind him. The burning began to fade, before only a mild sting was left behind.

Tony peeled back his jacket sleeve, then his dress shirt.

There, in broad daylight was the shape of a seven-pointed star. It glowed in a magnificent baby blue, lightly shimmering in the fluorescent lights. In the center, there was a diamond, or a rhombus as the linguists would prefer, matching in hue.

It was beautiful.

One shape.

One goddamn shape was all Tony Stark had ever wanted.

By the time he was six, everyone he knew had already gotten both of their soulmate tattoos. One on the left wrist for romantic, and one on the right wrist for platonic.

He got his left tattoo when he was four, a square with pink and green chevron lining the inside, accompanied by a blue circle in the upper right hand corner.

He remembered frantically dropping his pencil, running to his mother with glee in his eyes. For such a little boy, he really could hold a lot of energy inside of him. Maria thought it was cute, how happy Tony had been about something so common. Like loosing your first tooth.

She’d told him: “Soon, baby, you’ll get your right marking as well. Then we can celebrate all night long after Daddy goes to bed, hm?”

She hadn’t lived to see that happen, though.

At age 31 he still hadn’t gotten his right tattoo. Maybe he was just... unlovable. Not in romance, clearly, but in friendship.

Rhodey had a red and gold triangle, the colors slipping and mixing as they lined to form the hollow shape. Tony liked the colors. They were stylish.

But Happy had the matching tattoo. Not him.

And they always seemed so fucking happy about it, too. Like they were just trying to rub it in Tony’s face. They weren’t- he knew that. God, he wasn’t a toddler. He understood that two people could be friends without it being a personal thing. But... it still hurt, you know?

On sleepless nights, when Tony couldn’t be bothered to drown his sorrows in the lab, he thought about how much better off he would be if he didn’t have to look at that stupid bare skin, each pore taunting him with its nudity.

The assumption stood that, perhaps, if he wasn’t so hell bent on sticking it out for his left wrist’s sake, he would have given in to the right and left a long time ago.

He normally wore long sleeves, to cover his shame behind cloth. He didn’t want people being reminded that Tony Fucking Stark still lacked a platonic soulmate. Like an ingrate. Some kind of mistake of god that nobody could ever match to.

The cloth was it itchy today, though. Maybe he hadn’t washed the blazer properly last night, or it was just his skin being unbearbly sensitive, but it felt... itchy. All morning it had. Like something was going on with him.

“Tony?” Obie asked him. “Can you sign this?”

The man didn’t hesitate to grab the pen, too busy focusing on the itch along his appendage to worry about whatever the hell he was signing. Obie would never lead him astray, anyhow.

As he reached forward to place his John Hancock, he felt a the itch quickly escalate and grow in mere milleseconds, before turning into a horrible burning sensation.

Hot.

Hotter, hotter, hotter it grew. The man grabbed at the skin in pain, hunching over as he screamed. It felt like... the way his left wrist had felt, back when he got his romantic mark.

What the hell?

Could... could it be...? No- was it...

He frantically ran out of the room, ignoring Obadiah’s calls behind him. The burning began to fade, before only a mild sting was left behind.

Tony peeled back his jacket sleeve, then his dress shirt.

It was beautiful.

His own platonic tattoo. All his. It stood for something. It meant so much- it meant that his being was truly meant to be loved.

It was then that he realized just how odd the timing was. Soulmate tattoos appeared on the eldest’s skin when the younger was born, so why had his come now?

What the hell was he supposed to do with a newborn baby?

Peter Benjamin Parker was born with both of his soulmate tattoos already present.

His parents had taken so many photos that day, their shining faces proudly showing off their baby boy’s little markings.

On his left hand, the shape of a black dahlia flower, all done up in blood red. On his right, a beautiful baby blue seven-pointed star with a diamond in the center.

He opened his eyes after a few minutes, crosseyed as most little ones were for the first few months. Peter smiled when his Daddy held his little wrists out, proudly showing them off to the boy.

He spoke of their history, the way that fate had assigned Peter to two people already, people that would love him more than anything in the world. That somewhere in the world- another person shared his special markings. His soulmates at birth, star-crossed partners in love or in friendship.

Of course, at less than a day old, Peter had absolutely no idea what his father was saying, but seemed to appreciate it nonetheless.

The infant was absolutely adorable- and had continued in that stride for the years after. He met Michelle in freshman year at Midtown, and they started dating not long after, their matching wrists promising a lifetime of love.

He often wondered, though, as many children would, who had his other matching tattoo.

Tony scanned the files he may or may not have stolen from the government.

Each teenage boy had been verified by FRIDAY, a perfect candidate for the little spiderling that had been meander around Queens for the last few months.

There wasn’t much of a reason to it, just some primal instinct he had. No big fight coming up or coup he had to instigate.

The kid had skill, and a lot of untapped potential. He could be great, if only he was trained. Which he wouldn’t be, unless Tony got to him before some rag tag group of thugs did.

God, that would be a mess.

He flipped through the pages, slowly weening out the boy’s that lacked a motive, a concept too human for FRIDAY to understand. Yet.

One file caught his attention, though. The face of a prepubescent boy with messy hair and bright eyes. He was adorable, really. But that’s not what snatched Tony’s eye.

It was the birthdate.

August 10th, 2001 had been the day he got his right tattoo. One of the best days of his life.

There was always the chance that it was a fluke, a coincidence of the ages. Never meant to be, simply crashed in place and left to rest.

But the pictures on the next page of the file sent those thoughts straight underground.

As any other social security file would, this one came with pictures of either soulmate tattoos, accompanied by a description of them for paperwork sake. The images were clearly taken of a newborn baby, likely at the hospital not long after birth.

Peter Parker’s right tattoo was a match.

“Hey, May!” Peter called, stepping into the old apartment as he returned from school, his mind still a little bleary over the fact that Cindy Moon had really just chugged 12 diet cokes in one sitting at lunch.

“Oh, hey!” The woman returned, her voice fading in as the boy slowly removed his earbuds and grunted as he sat his backpack down on the chair by the kitchen table. “How was school today?”

He smiled in fond admiration. “Okay.” He responded, “There’s this crazy car parked outside...” he began, before pausing suddenly.

Holy shit.

Was his hair okay? What about his teeth? Was there anything in his teeth? God, there was probably something in his teeth. Were his glasses smudged? Wait- no, no glasses. How about his clothes?

“Oh, Mr. Parker.” The man sitting on his couch acknowledged.

Peter stuttered, his voice leaving him as his face went numb under pressure. The boy had never been used to the spotlight. “I- wha- what? What are you doi- hey, I- I’m- I’m- I’m Peter. Wai-”

“Tony.” The billionaire greeted. His hair was less shiny in person, and he had a few more wrinkles than he did on TV, Peter noticed.

Tony, he had said, like they were... friends or something. Miss Janelle always said that you shouldn’t refer to public figures by their first names, because they aren’t your friends- they’re sources.

That was weird. This was weird. Everything was weird.

The boy stammered. “What are you- what are you- what are you doing here?” Mr. Stark chuckled. “It’s about time we met.”

In his peripheral vision, Peter could just make out his Aunt frantically mouthing “What The Fuck” as her eyes blew up wider than a hornet nest. At least he wasn’t the only shocked one here.

“You’ve been getting my emails, right?” Mr. Stark asked him. Suddenly, the man winked his eyes, smirking a little.

What the fuck?

The boy played along. After all, when Tony Stark is signaling for you to follow his lead and do as he says, you listen. “Yeah, yeah, regarding the...”

“You didn’t tell me about the grant.” May chirped..

Peter took the lead. “About the grant.” He nodded. Wait... what grant?

“The September Foundation.” Mr. Stark allotted, waving his hand as though metaphorically giving Peter the next bit of information for whatever crazy scheme he had just been pulled into.

The boy shrugged and smiled. “Right.” He agreed. “Yeah. Remember when you applied?” Tony asked.

No, Peter thought, I never fucking applied for anything. What the hell is going on, Mr. Iron Man?

But he didn’t say that, did he?

“Yeah.” Peter smiled. The man gleamed. “I approved! So, now, we’re in business.”

May shifted in her seat, seemingly compromised by whatever bullshit story it was that the older male had told her. Seriously, what was their story here? “You didn’t tell me anything, what’s up with that? You keeping secrets from me now?” She asked.

“Well, I just- I just know how much you love surprises.” Peter offered, sending an experimental glance towards the other, testing that he was sticking to the plan he had yet to be informed of.

“Anyway, what did I apply for?” The teen hurriedly asked.

Mr. Stark bluntly blinked, a sign that Peter was definitely not as good of an actor as he liked to hope. Maybe he should start doing drama with MJ, that could help...

“That’s what I’m here to hash out.” The man claimed. “Okay, hash it- hash it out. Okay.” Peter agreed stupidly. He had no idea what he was doing.

As if trained in the art of lying, the richest one in the room drew attention away crom Peter’s misstep. “It’s so hard for me to believe that she’s someone’s aunt.” “Yeah, well we come in all shapes and sizes, you know?” “This walnut date loaf is exceptional.”

“I’m gonna just stop you there.” Peter interjected. God, Tony Stark was hitting on his Aunt.

So. Weird.

Mr. Stark chuckled a little. “Yeah?” He asked.

Suddenly, some distant part of Peter’s mind clicked. His Aunt’s face glowed in his mind, like when a character in a movie saw a hot girl and everything slowed down. Not that he thought May was hot, because, ew.

No, he was focusing on the word: Grant.

“Does this grant, like, got money involved or whatever? No?” He asked.

Mr. Stark slowed, seemingly confused by the question. “Yeah...” He began. “Yeah?” Peter echoed. “Well, it’s- it’s pretty well funded.” Oh. Not as exciting- but, still, being in the presence of money like that...

Peter remembered when he was little, when his still-living father would take him to New Rochelle on the weekends, just to see it.

“Look at these fellas long and hard, Pete.”

“They’re just rich people houses, Daddy!”

“Don’t you wanna live in one of ‘em?”

“Can’t. We’re not rich people.”

“Well? Here’s your inspiration, kiddo. Use that inspiration for your whole life. All you need for success is to be nearby what you want, to remind yourself that it is real and attainable. Then you really will work as hard as you can. This is the goal, so you don’t give up until you’ve got it.”

Peter’s mind wandered back to the present, Mr. Stark’s face still moving with his words. “Wow.” He gasped.

“I mean, look who you’re talking to.” The man joked. He turned to May. “Can I have five minutes with him?” He asked, pointing towards the bedroom off to the side with PETER clearly emblazoned across the door.

May smiled politely, of course, though Peter was pretty sure she was still uncomfortable with a grown man entering Peter’s bedroom. “Sure.”

They piled into Peter’s small bedroom, his twin bed thankfully having been made that morning. It was still a total mess. Mr. Stark really should have given a warning.

Tony was just happy that the kid hadn’t spent too long claiming not to be Spider-Man. He was relatively easy to quell, for a 14-year-old. Not that much teen spirit or whatever the kids called it nowadays. One mention of good pay and a spot on the team and the boy was all for the arrangement.

Peter would be working under Tony until he was old enough to join the Avengers Initiative- that is, if Tony says he’s ready then. Just some mentoring, getting the kid some decent field experience. And a better suit, because... yeesh.

That onesie across the room was an insult to all of superhero suit kind.

“Next order of business,” The man continued, “Roll up your sleeve.”

Peter spluttered. “What?” He remarked.

Tony sighed, before doing so on his own account, revealing that ever familiar design to Peter’s eyes.

The boy began to shake, his whole face going pale as he whispered “Is that...”

“A match? One can only be sure in person, kid.”

Peter gingerly removed his jacket and pulled up the right sleeve of his pullover, revealing his own seven-pointed star, made in a perfect baby blue, with a diamond encased in the center.

The man smiled, happily looking down at the little details, all familiar to him.

His own platonic soulmate. Right next to him.

He didn’t understand how or why, but one thing was for certain. This kid? This adorable, dopey-eyed kid with a onesie in his celling. He would protect this kid at all costs.

#my fics #marvel #mcu #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #avengers endgame #tony stark #peter parker #and i wanted queue to be better #tom holland

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sparklyjojos · 4 years ago

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CARNIVAL DAY recaps [8/13]

Today’s recap: Ghostly investigations, the Ultra Evil Really Bad Guys in an awkward Mexican standoff with Slightly Less Bad Guys, and XX’s thoughts on writing.

FORTY-FIVE

14 Jun 1997 — 20 Jun 1997

CONTINENTAL DRIFT

The writer detective XX wrote a few stories (including the seppuku detective one) that would be put together in one book. The work would be published under the name “Seiryoin Ryusui” and—on Yasha’s request—called 19box in memory of Juku, whose DOLL nickname was Jukebox. [19box or Juke Box is an actual book by Seiryoin that indeed contains the seppuku detective story.]

On June 6th, Yuiga Dokuson fled JDC leaving a confession about being the Billion Killer. It’s now been three weeks since his escape and still no new confirmed Billion Killer cases have happened. The Crime Olympics still continue, but at least everyone knows they will be over in two months.

All stories influence people, for better or for worse, and the story with the biggest, sharpest impact is the news. Then again, even entertainment has a major impact on people. The pen is mightier than the sword; the story is the strongest weapon. [Insert a horrible pun about how kakuheiki, “written weapon”, is as strong as kakuheiki, “nuclear weapon”.]

(...when Hikimiya Yuuya had been working with the AI Desert Colosseum in February, he found an unbelievable secret file.

Below is Hikimiya Yuuya’s testimony. [Originally in first person.])

Once Hikimiya got out of shock upon seeing the different numbers of daily deaths, he instantly went to the hospital to talk with Frau D (or at least went there as fast as he could in a wheelchair). Frau D only told him to show the file to DOLL’s leader Madame Alpha to get answers.

Madame said she hadn’t seen this particular file before, but she had known all along that the UN numbers were faked. Good thing Hikimiya didn’t tell anyone else about it—if he did, he’d probably be disappeared on his way back to DOLL. He accidentally got mixed into a matter bigger than just the UN; a shadow organization was at play here, and one misspoken sentence could possibly doom the human race.

Madame then told Hikimiya what her Zero Reasoning actually was. The Japanese word for “zero”, rei, happens to sound exactly like the word for “soul”. Madame’s ability was seeing and talking to ghosts. The difficult part of her reasoning was discerning whether or not the ghosts were telling her the truth.

Other people would find it hard to believe, but Madame knew best that the souls who helped her solve cases were certainly real. She purposefully stayed away from other people, as anyone being too close to her for a long time would also start seeing ghosts, including those who had died in less than pretty manners. Several people even landed in the hospital from shock.

The ability wasn’t perfect. Madame would have a problem talking to souls who spoke different languages. The world of ghosts was also pretty complicated and consisted of more than just nice, well-behaved souls (but it’d take too long to explain everything now). Thanks to her powers, Madame knew better than anyone how drastically the known history changed throughout the ages, true events replaced with fake stories so different from what the souls told her about their times. She was also aware that knowing the truth was not always a good thing.

Using her ability as a sort of a soul information network, Madame was able to learn many things about the Crime Olympics.

They say that Christopher Columbus kept two journals out of fear of being deemed insane by his crewmates: a fake one that everyone else could read freely, and a secret one talking about his true goals. The death count data files similarly used two kinds of information. The true one (what Hikimiya found) allowed the UN to grasp the real situation, and the fake one (the official stats) were displayed to the common man.

To explain why that was necessary, Madame told Hikimiya about the Cosmic Bomb—the Moon. The Bomb was set to fall on August 10th, but it wasn’t impossible that the enemy would drop it earlier if they felt threatened. It was in the world’s best interest to not interfere too much in their plans—to make them think four million people really died each day—before a good way to counter the Cosmic Bomb was established.

As for how Frau D got his hands on secret data, Madame thought the reason was very simple: Frau D was one of RISE’s Dogs, probably responsible for leaking info from DOLL.

Right after this conversation, Hikimiya returned to the hospital for more answers. Frau D stated that Madame was smart enough to understand how to stay alive by keeping quiet. He confirmed that he was a Dog. However, the secret file was not meant for RISE at all, but for Hikimiya. That’s why the password was YUYA, and why the report was addressed to “Desert Colosseum”—once Hikimiya inherited the AI, he would become the next “Desert Colosseum”. The signature D meant Frau D and referred to his identity as a Dog (all of them are designated as D-[numbers], for example Frau is D-159837).

Hikimiya felt like there was something strange about Frau D’s demeanor during that conversation, and only realized a few days later—after the Crystal Nightmare—that the S-detective knew he would be killed soon.

But that wasn’t the last Hikimiya heard from Frau D, as Madame passed him a message from his soul. It was strange hearing Frau D so unusually serious (even if the words came from Madame’s mouth).

Frau D wanted to apologize. The whole “I love you” thing was just another one of his jokes, and he chose Hikimiya solely on the basis of his skills and ability to become the next Desert Colosseum. Thanks to Madame, he was never afraid of death. Aside from RISE, he also belonged to the suicidal sect of DICE, who were the ones to kill him in the end. “Desert Colosseum” was still indispensable to RISE—and that meant they would rely on whatever data Hikimiya would send them in the future.

After relaying the message, Madame commented that Frau D was actually a really serious man; you don’t become an S-detective by acting like a clown. She could speak with him easily so soon after his death, but making contact would get progressively harder with time, so Hikimiya should better become “Desert Colosseum” as soon as possible while he could still get ghostly tips.

It was the first time Hikimiya truly felt respect for Frau D. Though now that he thought about it, maybe even earlier he felt a sort of a strange, begrudging affinity.

On the day Frau D died, news came about Juku, Ronely Queen and Ushiwaka Gigolo. Juku’s death was especially hard on Hikimiya, considering they had worked as partners in the past. Then Firannu Meirunesia died a week later.

Hikimiya of course wanted to talk with the dead detectives, but Madame was so busy with all the cases she had no time to spare, and calling specific souls was hard—her work was mostly just waiting until someone with the right information came to her. Asked about Ryuuguu Jounosuke, she said that she’s sorry, but from what she could see he really was dead. At least she was able to assure Hikimiya that Otohime was still alive, held prisoner by RISE together with Amagi Hyouma and Tsukumo Nemu.

The day Frau D was killed, Hikimiya found a new entry in the database that belonged to a fake F-detective, “Flower Design”. [At least I think that’s the right romanization for that]. Frau must have made that fake detective so Hikimiya could hide behind the identity and obtain information safely. It was hard to work a double job as both “Hikimiya Yuuya” and “Flower Design” behind the scenes, but the exhausting training under Frau turned out to have been a blessing in disguise.

Hikimiya analyzed the death count reports (which by this point reached early March) and found that while in the big picture the number of deaths rose steadily, it actually came in waves. Doing some statistical magic, Hikimiya realized that the death rate usually fell a bit during weekdays, but then rose significantly on each Sunday—right after the Billion Killer cases. Step back, two steps forward… It’s like the Billion Killer served as a periodic impulse that kept the Crime Olympics going. The Crystal Nightmare caused an especially high rise in victims, too.

Hikimiya made some calculations. The numbers were at first much lower than the proclaimed “four million deaths a day”, but if the growth continued, it would lead to a bigger overall number of deaths.

Constant four million a day would give 1,4 billion total deaths in an entire year.

But if the numbers continued to rise, the final figure would instead be 3,7 billion, more than half the world’s population—assuming the Cosmic Bomb wouldn’t kill everyone else.

FORTY-SIX

21 Jun 1997 — 27 Jun 1997

MOHENJO-DARO

(It was once thought that alchemy could produce homunculi in bottles.

Black Rook is a human obtained through cloning, a three years younger identical twin of Ryuuguu Jounosuke, with whom he shared this name. Yearning for an identity of his own, Black called himself Ryuuou.

RISE had the cloning technology long before his birth, but didn’t see a reason to use it, as getting normal imposters was much easier. They say that everyone has at least three perfect look-alikes in the world—RISE had no problem finding those three with their omnipresent reach.

The truth is that the original Jounosuke was supposed to become Black Rook at first, but RISE made a critical mistake while raising him. In the end, the clone achieved what the original couldn’t and became Black Rook.

Below is Black Rook’s testimony. [Originally in first person. As expected, he might be… biased.])

From what Black heard, his older brother had travelled all over the world with their parents as a young child in order to naturally pick up native accents of many languages. He was successful at this goal, but in the process he became so used to the outside world that he couldn’t stand the dim closed spaces of the Sanctuary (which was back then still under construction), even showing signs of serious childhood claustrophobia. He was constantly upset and kept crying no matter how long RISE tried getting him used to his new life. Childhood claustrophobia sometimes vanished with age, but there was no guarantee it would happen.

In the face of this, the Doctor decided to start anew and cloned the boy, and so Black was born. To avoid past mistakes, RISE made sure he got used to the Sanctuary since birth, the fortress transporting him to all those different countries and essentially becoming his home. Staying in the Sanctuary instead of with foreigners led to him not quite reaching the language mastery of his brother, but the difference was marginal and didn’t really matter.

When RS became the leader of RISE in 1987, Black formally inherited the position of the Sanctuary’s Master from his father Kintarou. Similarly, Endou Naoto became the next Doctor / White Rook after his father Naomasa.

RISE continued to fight their long battle. Black didn’t really understand if there was an objective good or wrong, but he knew for sure that the Beasts wanted to destroy the human race, and RISE’s Gods wanted it to continue in whatever shape. A battle between good and evil.

Their greatest enemy was a secret group called Akutou 666 Rengou (lit. “the 666 villains union”), known in short as Akuren. It was much older than RISE and had been threatening humanity for thousands of years.

Akuren was a worldwide information network created by the 666 most evil people of the world, all their names written down on a secret Luck Black List. Aside from the top 666, there were also two lower “replacement groups”, each also counting 666 members, so 1998 in all. Those who died or were arrested would be erased from the list, though one could always get on it again later. Note that the first group members were too skilled to be eliminated from the list unless they died.

All the historical villains one may have heard of—like Nero, Catherine de’ Medici, Ivan the Terrible, Rasputin, Aleister Crowley, even Hitler—all reached no higher than the second group of Akuren. Those in the first group are all untraceable and take care to erase their pasts, only their horrible impact on the world hinting at their existence, their true nature that of pure evil beyond imagination (Black doesn’t even want to think about the stories he heard).

Akuren categorizes all people on Earth into thirteen tiers of evil, starting from 1 (those unwittingly doing everyday evil), going through those who commit crimes as part of a company policy or “usual” criminals (4-5), through famous organized crime (6), through those with political power (7), through country elites with even more influence (8), through secret organizations ruling those elites (9), through the evil that controls the history of humanity (10), the first group of Akuren (11), the few members of Akuren that have transcended the concept of pure evil (12), and the “ultimate organization of extreme pure evil” (13).

Upstanding citizens are classified as tier 1 (it’s impossible to be lower, as every single human eventually hurts another human, if only by existing). Tier 10 would include Akuren’s first group and half of the second group, together 999 people. Tier 11 would apply only to the first group; they’re so strong that an S-detective could maybe manage one or two of them at once, but not several, and certainly not 666. Tier 12 are those from the first group that aim for even more evil and want to throw the world into darkness. Tier 13 is so secret that even RISE can’t get any information about it, more suspecting their presence than knowing for sure.

The members of every group of Akuren are numbered from 001 to 666, with those numbers moving if someone falls off the list. Number 001 is always the person who stayed in a group the longest, while those from lower groups will enter a higher group starting from 666. Groups two and three have to provide information for the network, but those who already rose to group one are privileged and can simply get data without having to give any in exchange.

Akuren attempted to wipe out the human race many times before, their crimes usually showing as wars on the surface. The Persian Wars, the Peloponnesian War, Alexander the Great’s conquest, the Seven Years’ War, the Hundred Years’ War, various Prussia wars, the Russo-Japanese War, both World Wars, the Cold War…

After WWII, the 12th tier of evil first showed itself, possibly with the 13th one right behind them, and the most serious plan to destroy humanity (including themselves) had been in progress ever since. Their twisted reasoning is basically, “everyone has to die one day, and when I die, the world may as well not exist for me, so why not bring everyone else down with me while we’re at it”.

The current Crime Olympics were conceived as yet another of Akuren’s plans to destroy humanity. RISE was created to gain control over this plan in order to prevent the ultimate tragedy and limit the damage as much as possible. Of course on the surface they still had to act like they’re cooperating with Akuren, and so had to put the Crime Olympics into motion like they were supposed to.

Akuren acted like they didn’t notice their true enemy, but considering the quality of their information network, they had to already know about RISE’s goals. However, RISE was too useful to get rid of it so quickly. Fifty years of preparations passed in a pretend cooperation between the two organizations. RISE has three trump cards in their deck: Alive, the Billion Killer, and the Cosmic Bomb.

RISE’s true goal was purging evil at the root for the sake of humanity’s survival. If they left Akuren alive, it would just lead to another attempt at total destruction in the future. RISE had already succeeded at using the Crime Olympics to kill the lesser ranks of evil in droves, even though it cost a lot of other lives and the true malicious elites were still staying safely hidden. If RISE didn’t kill off those elites before August 10th, the Cosmic Bomb would fall.

Those “worst of the worst” were called Pure Ultimate Beasts. The purest evil often wore the masks of saints; they truly were beasts disguised as humans, creatures that would kill with a smile. The first group of Akuren was too careful to be easily led into a trap, so RISE had to start with eliminating the lower groups and make their way up.

All the above was a very rushed explanation, but the gist of it is that humanity is in a horrible spot. If they don’t do anything, the Cosmic Bomb will fall; if they try to fight openly, perhaps the Bomb will just fall faster. The fate of humanity is in the hands of RISE—of Black Rook.

...but Black feels a bit weird those days, like something is very wrong with him. Perhaps it’s just a lingering symptom of Alive... or perhaps he’d been caught into Akuren’s trap? Something feels wrong. With the Sanctuary, with RISE and with himself. Something is strange. He’s supposed to stop the Cosmic Bomb, and has been for sure making preparations, but now he can’t remember how to do it, as if he simply forgot something so important. He can’t remember… What the hell happened to him? What the hell is going on? It’s like he’s not himself.

Has he also been brainwashed…?

[End of testimony.]

Writer detective XX continues to write. He feels a strange compulsion to do it, a sense of mission, almost like someone is forcing him to write. Sometimes he wonders if he hasn’t been brainwashed.

FORTY-SEVEN

28 Jun 1997 — 04 Jul 1997

HONG KONG

Writing as “Seiryoin Ryusui” is weird to XX, like wearing someone else’s clothes. He’s been feeling like he isn’t truly himself. But if it’s so weird to him, why does he simultaneously have the compulsion to not just continue writing, but to write as “Seiryoin Ryusui” specifically? Nothing else changed. It’s just that whenever he works as “Seiryoin”, he ceases to be himself. Almost like someone else is guiding his hands, like he’s only the first reader instead of the writer.

Inugami Yasha wants XX to write a book about the Crime Olympic as soon as possible. Yasha’s plan is to use the power of stories positively, to light up at least some of the darkness surrounding them.

No one is faster to rise to fame in mass media than the worst criminals caught red-handed. “Seiryoin Ryusui” wasn’t that popular, but his name is still spread around because of the Cosmic Jokers case, so releasing a book under the same name will gather the world’s attention. This will possibly allow them to lure out the actual mysterious “Seiryoin Ryusui”. The book will be technically fiction, just like Cosmic and Joker, but will give readers enough clues that maybe someone solves the still unfinished mysteries, or gets to the actual truth behind something that has been considered solved.

To be honest, XX hates the writing style in Cosmic and Joker. It just seems bad and unbalanced to him. Strong J Outa the editor thinks it’s because XX has a similar writing style, so reading “Seiryoin” feels to him like reading his own old works, which is rarely a good experience for a writer. The important thing is keeping that unbalanced style while writing about the Crime Olympics.

Languages, just like anything else created by people, aren’t perfect. No matter how much one tries, a recording of events will never be perfect specifically because of the nature of words. Even non-fiction is fiction in the end. Words on their own aren’t the truth, but the moment someone encounters someone else’s words, they may read out the truth between the lines—which is what Yasha hopes for by releasing the Crime Olympics book.

(By the way, it’s been a month since Dokuson disappeared, and not a single Billion Killer case has happened in the meanwhile. There were giant cases happening at 1 PM local time on Saturdays, true, but no symbolic skull has been found.)

XX still can’t get rid of his strange feelings. It’s almost like there’s someone else within him, “the true writer”, perhaps even “the true culprit”. Strong J Outa dismisses these worries and says that in a sense, the mystery writer is always the real culprit manipulating the characters. A mystery novel is not as much a showdown between a detective and a murderer, as a showdown between the writer and the reader. The challenge is not just solving a mystery, but also solving the writer’s intent put in his work.

The idea of the writer as the culprit is sort of a taboo that everyone knows about, but that isn’t really relevant inside mystery novels by design. All fiction is real as far as the world within that fiction is concerned. There’s no reason to escape into delusions about a writer making all this happen; instead XX should focus on writing and fighting crime this way.

19box is set to be finally released on July 5th.

(And in the latest news...)

On June 14th, the entire island of Tasmania suddenly moves towards mainland Australia and smashes into it, resulting in 100,000 dead or injured and several small islands sinking. Right afterwards Tasmania returns to its proper place. How all this happened is a mystery.

On June 21st, about a hundred tourists visiting Mohenjo-daro in Pakistan are found naked and dead. The cause of death is unknown, but the incident is thought to have been influenced by the Carnival Dice cult.

On June 28th, all the power lines of Hong Kong are suddenly cut, leading to a complete power outage. Massive fires start in the aftermath. Giant playing cards are found around the place, so the group F4C is suspected. The situation becomes so bad it leads to political shifts and Hong Kong being completely returned to China.

On July 5th, a mysterious continent surfaces from the depths of the Pacific, so unimaginably huge that it takes half the ocean’s area. The continent’s sudden movement causes kilometer-tall tsunamis to rush towards other lands. It’s only a matter of time until the record waves reach the shores and destroy anything in their path.

Japan has twelve hours to prepare for the wave.

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

#sparkly reads carnival day #maijo and jdc stuff

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