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zedecksiew · 5 years ago

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d100 Adventure Beginnings

Feeling anxious, indoors because of the Covid-19 quarantine, I adapted an idea from Khairani Barokka and asked Twitter to give me emojis.

I’d turn these emoji into oddities, instigations, opening to adventure.

Guess I wanted to travel? In my head, far afield. It took the weekend, but it made me happy. There were many, many typos, but I visited a hundred different microcosms, with a hundred different persons.

Original thread begins HERE; tweets in the thread were tagged / attributed.

d100 ADVENTURE BEGINNINGS

1. 🥐 The sandwich comes to you via delivery. You unwrap the foil as the quadrotor buzzes away. There's something in your sandwich, between tempe patties -an oil-stained slip of card. "Come alone," it says. There is a street address. ~

2. [Photograph of a vine tendril] Watering the garden, you see your morning glory stir.

Its tendrils uncoil. Its vines unclench, recede. Knot in on themselves, twine into thin limbs.

They let go of your fence. They have a face. Flower eyes: two purple trumpet blossoms. They offer a hand to shake.

3. [Italian flag] Morning ritual: put coffee on, wash face, check phone. Twitter takes a half-hour.

You smell burning. Coffee! Your moka pot is now sooty, long past hissing. A man stands next to it, made of steam.

"Salve," the steam ghost says, tipping his steam cap.

4. 🕯️ A warm night. The air is still. The candle flickers in your partner's face. She is checking her wallet. Slips it in her pocket as the candle dies.

"Ah!" she says, in darkness. "So over this power cut."

Time to get more candles.

5. 🔧 This is a *great* spot to get a flat: Lonely road, no streetlights, trees knitting their branches overhead. You shiver. You hate that you shiver. You're an adult. You make noise to assert this. The jack clunks on the ground. "Darling?" somebody whispers.

6. 🦚 "Make way for Lady Lerna!" cries the page, swinging his censer. Behind him a dozen men bear a gilded litter.

Laughter. Ringed fingers part the curtains. A powdered dowager wearing a cartwheel ruff of peacock eyes peers out. She holds her nose.

You hate her.

7. 🐷 Suckling pig. Its split-jaw-ed head faces you. You have never been more aware of an animal corpse.

Goldteeth Liu sips his cognac and asks: "Hey boy, why you not eating? My food not good enough for you is it?

"You feel sweat on your chest, where the wire is.

8. 👻 An ordinary corridor. Sconces, faded wallpaper, a painting.

"Behind the painting," a voice says.

A button behind the painting. Press it. The wall goes click. A crack appears.

"Now can I go?"

You unspool your spell, and the spirit leaves for her afterlife.

9. 🎲 The dice land. "Nine! Woo!" She moves her token, counting every space with a smack.

"What's with you?" they ask her.

"What you mean?" she giggles. She never did know how to play it cool. But she doesn't have to. Under the table, she puts her feet in your lap.

10. 🦷 When you took this assignment, they gave you two false molars:

The one in your right cheek is a transmitter -- a signal for Ops to start the evacuation; The one in your left is a cyanide pill, in case of capture.

Or was it the other way around?

Shit.

11. 🐉 From heaven a serpentine form, golden and gleaming. Growling like thunder ground out of the earth.

Descending, approaching --

But getting no bigger? Is it shrinking?

It is in front of you, now. It is as big as your forearm -- no, your finger.

"Bite me," it squeaks.

12. 🍞 The curfew has gone on for months. You have survived through food shortages, power cuts, rumours of civil unrest.

But now you are in trouble. Now, you enter your second trimester. Now, you crave.

Gardenia white bread.

You will brave cordons to get it.

13. 🧎‍♀️ You are hurrying to your car when somebody calls: "Girl? Girl!"

The voice comes from a red altar under a tree, past the kerb. From a songkok-ed uncle, as tall as your calves.

"Got food ah girl?" the roadside god says. "Two weeks already uncle hasn't eaten."

14. 👀 Someone has been pasting googly eyes on your stuff:

Your mailbox in the lobby; The telephone pole in front of your parking spot; The flower pot on the balcony.

Creepy. "It's not me!" your housemate says.

This morning, you find googly eyes on your forehead.

15. 🔐 The padlock on your front door is broken.

The door swings open onto an empty living room. On the floor: rectangles of dust, where your shelves and cabinets once stood.

As well as a shred of newsprint. "Take this, Mat!" it says.

Your name's not Mat.

16. 🎟️ Pa played the lottery on his birthday. Always with the same numbers: 1406, 2902. Ma's birthday. Yours.

Pa died last week. Yesterday was his birthday. You bought his numbers from the ticket counter.

Today you check the results: "First jackpot: 1406 2902."

17. 🦖 Dusting Dr Khoo's shelves, you accidentally knock over a novelty Tyrannosaurus piggy bank.

It shatters on the parquet floor.

There are ceramic shards, change -- and a passport with Dr Khoo's photo. Under a different name. In Cyrillic script.

Uh oh.

18. 🍳 Eggs in your cast-iron pan -- the last three eggs you have.

Ina: "What are we going to do for protein, now?"

Gan: "We can search the shophouses in town. Or hope to catch a lizard?"

Ina makes a face. You shrug. With your cast-iron pan, you can cook anything.

19. 👻 Knock before you enter a hotel room for the first time. Say: "I'm coming in, okay?" Let its other occupants vacate.

But:You bustled in, dropped the card in its holder, threw your suitcase in the closet, dumped yourself on the bed.

So, now:

Don't look up.

20. 🙆‍♀️ From you balcony, you watch your neighbour in the community playground. She is a dancer. She plays music on portable speakers. She practices pirouettes.

You wish you could work up the courage to talk to her.

She looks up, sees you watching, and waves.

21. 🗝️ "The key will open any lock," the goblin said.

The key feels heavy in your hand. Plain and iron. But when you bring it near the queen's jewellery box it shifts: turns silver and intricate.

A skeleton key!

"The key only works once," the goblin said.

22. 🎥 You don't like the protesters. So naive. And look at how they've spray-painted the street! Anarchists.

The cops charge with riot shields. They are beating protesters --

What are you doing?

You are recording this on your phone.

A cop points his baton at you.

23. 🥳 On your birthday you are surprised at the door. Balloons, food, music to dance to. A party! Laughing, you thank you friends.

"Thank Brian!"

"Brian?" you ask.

"Your cousin Brian?" they say. They point. He smiles and waves back. You don't recognise him.

24. 🤦‍♀️ Your headache gets worse. On day three your vision blurs; you collapse in your bathroom.

You wake to familiar voice: "Hey."

It is your voice. "Don't panic," your doppelganger says. "You're okay." She dried you off, put you in bed. She will not harm you.

25. 🍳 You tried to steal from the Pasha. He is magnanimous, and decided not to behead you. Instead, you will serve him.

You will journey into the wastes. You will brave the fire. You will acquire the Phoenix's egg. The Pasha is a gourmand. He wishes to eat it.

26. 🐙 "Finding the Perihelion Squid is not a problem," your captain says. "It glows in the water."

Sunset. A ray catches your captain's arm and belly, throwing the sucker-shaped burn marks there into textured relief.

"The problem is fighting it," your captain says.

27. 🚦 You stop at the lights. You look at your phone.

Somebody bonks your side-view mirror. "Oi!" you say -- but more people are rushing past. The drivers of the cars in front of you. What are they running from?

Across the intersection, a stampede of water buffalo.

28. ™️ "Breath Easy," the billboard says. A beach panorama, with a white family in the foreground: father, mother, daughter -- all three in pastel shirts. Eyes shut, chins up, smiling.

"VitaOX, premium bottled air," the billboard says. "A Sinochem-McDonald's company."

29. 🦥 The Colossal Ground Sloth is a geographic enormity.

See that hill, blocking our view of the rising sun? That's not a hill. That's a sloth. It sits, seemingly smiling, covered in trees. When it shudders the birds take flight.

Look: it opens its lake-like eyes.

30. 🗽 When the Statue vanishes, America freaks. Who's to blame? Terrorists? SJWs?

Then it turns out the Statue is also missing from all visual media: T-shirts, postcards, patriotic paraphernalia.

The White House settles on its favourite scapegoat -- China.

31. 🧩 The map to the Treasure of Sagely Fu is borne on the back of the Divine Tortoise:

Its scutes represent the 38 provinces of the Empire. Its coloration represents the hills and valleys. When Sagely Fu fought the Tortoise, he kicked a chip-mark into its shell.

32. 💙 The Heart Of Ice is a crystalline fortress, so high above the sea that the sky is twilight and the air freezes you solid.

There rules the Queen, a goddess of pure and alien elements. If you can make Her shed a tear she will grant you your heart's desire.

33. 🌼 The pontianak is a monster -- born when a pregnant woman dies, wronged.

Seeking vengeance, she hunts men. She takes the form of a comely woman. One of her signs is the fragrance of frangipani blossoms.

"Hey," says the bar hostess. She smells of night flowers.

34. 🦊 "My foxies," the witch says. "My vulpies."

In her hut are bones, bones, bones. Piled in a bucket. Mounted on display stands. Sniffing your ankle -- fox skeletons, moving as they did in life.

"Can you do cats?" you ask, nodding to the bundle in your arms.

35. 🥾 The search parties assemble quietly. A trekker is lost on the mountain. Nobody is happy.

"I told him," one of the guides whisper. "I told him. Don't take anything, I said. You don't know whose things you're taking. But I saw him slip a stone into his pocket."

36. 🐬 The pool is still. Park management turns this fountain off at 10pm.

You like walking here, at night. You like the granite dolphins, mid-jump, frozen in time. You toss a coin into the fountain for luck. Clink.

There is a splash. A flash of motion. A fin.

37. 📚 In the book you find a letter, in delicate cursive:

"Dear Emily, Bought this book for your birthday. Which is also Valentine's Day. I will never be able to tell you that I love you. So I will never give this book to you. Sara."

Sara is your mother's name.

38. 🌲 A postcard of evergreens. A landscape you've only seen in photos.

You stash it in a notebook, stuff that in your bag.

"Over here," Michelle says. She grins, shimmies out of a space between leaning shelves. A box of double-A batteries. Meaning: jackpot.

39. 🥡 You bike to the pick-up.

It's a commissary in the middle of an industrial park. The guy at the counter says nothing. Just looks you up and down. He licks his lips.

"What's in this?" you ask, pointing at the takeaway pack.

"Meat," he says. He licks his lips.

40. 🎏 The airships of Vo Langka are fish-shaped.

Carp and arowana are most common -- but advances in aeronautics have made wing-form (ie: stingray-like) aircraft possible.

You are a pilot. Today you will test the first ever flying machine made in imitation of a bird.

41. 🐗 The boar charges your golf cart. The caddy veers onto the green.

Gunshots!

Your bodyguards down the beast. It came from the forest behind the golf course -- the one you've earmarked for clearing.

It's not the only forest creature that wants to murder you.

42. ♻️ Your body slides into the furnace.

Your husband will pick through the ash and bones. Tomorrow he'll take a boat, sail a kilometre out, empty your urn in the sea.

The day after, silver pomfrets will school in a person's shape, and you will see the ocean.

43. ✨ It's a clear night. "Honey?" you call. "Come see!"

She whines -- you are tearing her from her work, she says. You insist. You point up.

Orion and the Dipper, the soft shine of the sickle moon.

"Wanna go for a walk?" you ask. She slips her arm into yours.

44. ✒️ The auto-pen you own is old. Picks up too much background chatter. The newer pens have noise-cancelling wards.

See? You've stopped dictating, but the pen is still writing:

"NO AH NO IT MOTHER PLEASE IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP"

Hell's not a good muse.

45. 🌌 The transitcraft trembles as it descends on its pillar of plasma.

"Sorry you didn't make it," the pilot says. "Cosmofleet is not for everyone." He's trying to be kind. This does not help.

He leaves you on the pad. Here you are, with packed bags, back home.

46. 🤫 The librarian drags you under the counter, pale with terror.

You hear the tread of the logovore. The meaning-eater. Books impaled on its spines -- leeched of their ink, their substance, going see-through, disappearing.

It does that to humans, too.

47. 🍥 You spit the fish cake out. From surprise, really. Because it is candy.

A confection of flour, sugar, pink food colouring, floating next to beef slices, on the oily surface of the noodles you ordered.

The kitchen makes you a new bowl. The chef is baffled.

48. 🛰️ Satellites no longer obey us.

Meteorology reverts to fortune-telling. Intelligence becomes earth-bound. Defense satellites play games of laser tag.

Broadcasting ends -- well, not really. When you turn on your TV it tells you: CALL YOUR MOTHER SHE MISSES YOU.

49. 🌿 Where you buried your cat, something is already growing:

A fresh stem of basil, putting out its mild scent; its green, convex leaves.You pluck a leaf, put it in your mouth. Your cat jumps into your lap. You feel her scrape your finger with her tongue.

50. 🐸 The Weed Toad sprouts spiky fur filled with chlorophyll. Basically: it's a frog with grass on its back. It can be a pest.

When you step into your garden something squeaks.The toad jumps away, incensed. Its siblings hop off, too. Your whole lawn, leaving you.

51. 👾 Pixel Goblins are voxeloids, walking about in waking life. Refugees from a reality whose servers shut down two years ago.

They eat electricity. They line the sidewalk. "Hungry," the Pixel Goblin says. She looks at your phone, hopeful.

You have 11% battery left.

52. ✴️ "I am chaos!" the boy shrieks. "A conduit of magick!"

You can hear that hard "k" from here. Baldie in an Invisibles tee and factory-distressed jeans, thinks he knows magic? Please.

Then he pisses on your headstone. Which is rude. So you possess him.

53. 👣 Footprints, made with oil. They cut across the driveway, onto the grass, leaving rainbow sludge on some clovers. They turn the corner of your house.

You turn the corner, too.

In front of you, the prints have stopped, side by side. Their toes now face you.

54. 🐷 In the middle of his emergency pandemic address, during a live broadcast, on national television --

The Prime Minister oinks.

He blinks. Clears his throat, looks at the teleprompter -- and oink-oink-oinks.

The PM's eyes blink tears. Then the broadcast cuts out.

55. 🌙 Can we trust the moon?

See its phases -- the way it goes from a bright circle, wanes into a crescent, shuts completely, then opens again, waxing half into full --

Like a creature blinking: slowly, ever so slowly.

The moon has not looked directly at us. Yet.

56. 🌺 You tuck a hibiscus in her hair. "It's pretty!" you say, before she reacts. "Plus it's patriotic."

She rolls her eyes.

Day after the party she wants to meet you. That makes you happy. She's not happy. The flower's driven a root into flesh, behind her ear.

57. 🍜 This bowl of noodles, made from soup powder, desiccated ramen, the last remaining tomato in the fridge, one overcooked egg --

It's the most delicious thing you've ever tasted.

This shouldn't be possible. You cry. You'll never have anything this good again.

58. 🥦 "This," Mother says. "This needs to be half-size."

You know this moment. The kitchen was never your thing. You made an excuse and left to play videogames in your room. Two days later Mother died. Car accident.

This time you stay. You cut the floret in two.

59. 🌵 The Blood Prickle's blossom is prized by cities that border the Pebble Sea. Dried, smoked, its fume delivers accurate prophecies.

The Blood Prickle only blossoms when watered by the viscera of living creatures. You lead your herd of sheep into the desert.

60. 🕸️ The bungalow is covered in gossamer, like a suitcase shrink-wrapped at the airport. Shreds stick to you, glue.

"Go away!" the bungalow's owner says. You see her eight eyes peer at you from a window.

"Babe, please," you say.

"Stop stalking me!" she shouts.

61. 🐼 The ghost bear waddles across the plaza and through a wall.

They felled a forest to build this strip mall. But they did not exorcise its ghost. Ghost vines hang from the ceiling. Ghost trees fill changing rooms. In the car park a ghost brook babbles, incoherently.

62. 🕯️ You blow out the candle. "Happy birthday!"

Your friends have grey hair. Others dance to Kelly's playlist. Something in your brain snaps -- you do not know how old you are.

There is only one candle on the cake. It tells you: you are however old you want to be.

63. 🍥 At the bottom of an empty paint bucket in your backyard shed, you discover a giant millipede, dark red, curled into a spiral.

You name her Millie. Obviously.

You boyfriend is disgusted. Slightly jealous of the attention you allot her. He was always insecure.

64. 🍡 The city is a shadow. Office towers in shards. Hypermalls with their skybridges broken. Collapsed nightclubs.

In the midst of all this, on an overgrown street, incongruously -- the smell of boiling soup. Fry-oil. Fish balls. A lok lok truck, greasy and pristine.

65. ✨ The light in her eyes die when you tell her to leave.

You lose your job at the production house. Once again, you are a freelancer. Interviewers pooh-pooh your portfolio.

You will learn how to draw again. Your muse was a crutch. You must do this on your own.

66. 🔮 Everything is as kitschy as you expect. Fake-velvet curtains and tablecloth. A set of tarot cards from Etsy. Even a crystal ball!

But when the fortune-teller looks up and sees you, she says: "No no, out."

What?

"You. No. Get out," she says, afraid.

67. 🥵 Ten laps in the pool. Then you pant to the sauna.

Stones sizzle as you open the door. Somebody is here, already. You take the opposite bench. He has an athlete's thighs. Sweat on his obliques make them look oiled.

He looks you up and down. Smirks. Judges.

68. 🗨️ In the kitchen Khan grunts. Khan being Khan, you think.

Sylvia comes in. She makes an oinking sound.

He grunts. She oinks again. Hoot-hoot. He hisses in reply. It appears to be a conversation.

Sylvia sees you staring. Waves a hand in your face, asks: "Moo?"

69. 👹 "They are going to hate me," she says, frowning around her tusks."

They are going to love you," you say.

In her nervousness she walks up to the microphone, no intro, just launches right into it. Her poem is electric. She is electric. And she is yours.

70. ⚛️ Guards, gyrocopter patrols -- Coilhaus Atomworks’s compound is well-protected. Which is as you expected.

You didn't expect the hex-wards in the inner compound. When you set foot on the manager's balcony, the teak floor shrieks: INTRUDER INTRUDER INTRUDER HERE!

71. 🌂 The Bum Under The Overpass jumps out. You yelp.

"Flee, peasant!" he growls. He reeks. He has a bin lid for a buckler, a brolly for a sword. "I shall shield ye against yon creature!"

You peer into the dark under the overpass -- and notice the hulking shadow there.

72. 💀 The captain wears a cutesy plastic skull on a silver chain. You don't think it fits with her camo grease, her fatigues.

"My daughter made this," she says.

You nod. You miss your son, too. All this -- the pay you earn, burning villages -- you do for your children.

73. 🦧 "Orangutan Kong". Some sort of gangster moniker?

No. Kong is actually an orangutan. He escaped from the Zoo, and started working in Goldtooth Tat's crew. As comic relief. Everybody who laughed at him is dead now.

If you want to work for him you should know.

74. 🧠 The robot ploughs through Market Street. Tiles scatter like confetti; cars are stomped flat. Pressure in your ears -- a thunder clap! The police van up the road explodes.

"There!" your partner shouts, pointing. A brain in a glowing jar, in the robot's belly.

75. 💈 You grew up here.The broom, the hair -- the chairs, Naugahyde over industrial frames. The mirrors, angled slightly, either side leading into infinity. The sink where Uncle Kuppu rinsed his razors and shaving brush.

Uncle Kuppu's gone. This place is yours, now.

76. ⚗️ The alchemist stumbles backwards, knocks over a beaker.

"My formula," he whispers. "You're an assassin from the Bankers’ Guild? You can't have me turning lead to gold."

You shake your head. "No. I work with the Silversmiths' Guild. I'm here to protect you."

77. 🔭 It is the fourth victim he has brought home.

They are always young, with tattoos. He restrains them, strangles them by the neck on the floor of his bathroom.

You watch, through your telescope. You should report him. But you like to watch them struggle.

78. ⛩️ The way to Grand Andropolis is lined with 417 red gates -- each one for a glorious victory the Imperial Legions have won over lesser races.

Gate 412 marks the time they slaughtered your parents. You touch it, and swear quietly: you will burn Grand Andropolis.

79. 🌻 The men at the big table drink beer, munch kuaci, laugh.

A woman with sunglasses arrives. The restaurant people tell her: "Kitchen closed already. Drinks?"

Just kuaci, she says.

She watches the men. When she bites the seeds open, you see long canines.

80. 🤖 You've never considered yourself technosexual. You thought robots cold. Then you met MARY-K8.

Her bright crystal optic sensors. Her omni-articulated limbs. Her way with words:

"HEY HUMAN USER," she synthesises. "HEART-UNIT NOT FOUND. PERHAPS YOU HAVE IT?"

81. 🦖 "The job is a museum," your master sighs. "Museum's are the worst."

You ask him why.

"We are exorcists, dumb-dumb! You know how many things the damn spirit can hide in? Can throw at us?"

When you master sees the T-rex skeleton in the atrium, he sighs again.

82. 🎍 Treaties signed between the Yun Empress and the Princes of Elemental Wood have resulted in the Type-4 Rhizomic Footsoldier --

A stiff, lanky construct; needing only sun and soil; grown in vast groves; with souls of bamboo and therefore without mercy ...

83. 🧜‍♀️ Each year, the mer send an emissary to bargain with the dry world.

The tide swells, then withdraws just as quick, leaving a carriage of driftwood and flowering coral --

"Dammit!" a voice says. Rattling, from within. "Door's stuck!" A sigh. "Some help, please?"

84. 🧠 "You're always going on about life hacks. So here," Mark says.

His gift is a book. "Telekinesis In 100 Days", its title says.

Mark smirks. "Enjoy!"

You'll show the bastard! It's just day 13. Already you can toss 50-cent coins with a lift of your eyebrow.

85. 📯 The footmen blow their horns. The herald crows: "The Tyrant and Lady van Sur!"

They descend the stairs. The man frail, tubes stuck up his nose; the woman in silk, her wig so heavy it is held up by grav-suspensors --

One push of your remote, and the suspensors fail.

86. 🥶 You jolt awake. Ice is pressed to your ankle -- no, chilled skin. A toenail. Feet.

"Jesus. Your feet."

His apology is a snorted murmur. He curls further, pressing into the heat of your belly. His hair tussled, smelling of lavender.

What's his name? Can you remember?

87. 🚪 The heavy door is shut. Padlocked. Your lock sprite shakes her head. "Mechanism's rusted solid."

Your spell-dwarf grumbles. "Lead brackets, see? Shock hex won't work."

"Lemme try," your slip-spirit squeaks. Flattens itself, slips under.

Doesn't came back.

88. 🌵 The Saguaro Sea is a vast tangle of sole-cutting rock, thorny brush, towering cacti broad as hillforts.

Here is found the Weeping Roc -- whose cry is a woman wailing; who steals children to feed its blind, featherless chicks.Children like your six-year-old.

89. 💃 Flamenco star Magritte Tanaka's talent is such that people say it is more than just grace and training.

They say she made a bargain. When she dances a devil helps her; plays her like a puppet on strings.

Truth is he forces her. She never wanted to dance.

90. 🎸 You stole the keytar of synth legend Razzak Luminem from the Museum of Sidereal Art last month.

Tonight you host its auction. Many have shown up: demon worshipers; glamrock stars; violist perverts; members of the Critics' Cartel -- troublemakers.

Watch yourself.

91. 🙆‍♀️ To fear the sky falling is silly --

Except in Fading Dassho, whose most dilapidated districts sit twilit under an obsolete stellar shield, its support struts increasingly ancient and tottery. A shutter collapsed, just last week -- shattering six thousand souls.

92. 🤖 We sent unmanned drones through the Hell-portal; we assumed exposure to Ultimate Evil would be bad for the human psyche.

All moot, it turned out. Because drones are robots -- and, you know, that cliche about robots turning bad, turning KILL ALL HUMANS?

Well.

93. 🏚️ A manor-turned-hotel, on a cliff, with a history of homicide? TrueCrimeFest 2018's organisers could not resist.

Three days of signings, panels, cosplay -- and a podcaster found garroted in her room.

Horrible! Horrible. (But, really: Best. TrueCrimeFest. Ever.)

94. 🤪 The Rictus Worm causes paralysis. Distorts the muscles of the face.

Your eyes pop, your tongue hangs lolling. You speak drool and sputters. You try the chirurgeon. He thinks you are fooling. Kicks you out.

The Rictus Worm is rare. You feel it in your nape.

95. 🌌 One by one the stars disappear. Without their light -- were they ever there?Constellations vanish, nebulae fade. The moon hangs alone in the night sky.

Only our sun and its huddling planets remain. An isolated, solipsistic, self-obsessed apocalypse.

96. 🤗 She welcomes you with open arms. "Happy you're home, Ah Boy," she says, kissing you, Tears on her cheek transferring to yours.

She is your mother; she calls you Ah Boy. Return appropriate amounts of affection. Your mission depends on how well you fool this woman.

97. 🅱️ The mark is made in red ink. The letter "B". Not so bad, outsiders might think --but yours is an euphemistic society.

This is the Competency Test, through which all citizens are streamed. An "A" means you get to stay above-ground. A "B" sends you Below.

98. 🎡 Anna gets into the pod before you. The ferris wheel begins to turn.

Travelling carnivals! Holdovers from a previous world, now surmounted by app-stores. You don't get the appeal. It's not even ironic --

High up, in the pod, Anna kisses you.

Now you get it.

99. ☄️ You still remember your wonder --

A bright blue star, trailing a bright line, bisecting the sky. Staring at it would spoil your eyes, they said.

In your cockpit, as the countdown begins, you think: now you will be a bright blue star. There will be a young girl on the ground, watching.

100. 🥑 When you halve the avocado you don't find a seed. You find a tiny baby.

It is curled up foetal. It is the colour of mahogany. It fusses slightly -- then starts into a full-blown caterwaul; big droplets of blood well from where your rough knifework has nicked it.

+++

#fantasies #writing #twitter #gygaxian democracy #random generators #adventures #covid-19 #quarantine

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elevatorsnot-worthy · 5 years ago

Text

Just A Little Chaotic (Chapter 5)

CHAPTER 5 - DRAWN

Description: Alison, a singer-songwriter and an actress, finds herself in a middle of a chaotic set up with two of her cast mates. One’s a new face and one’s an old friend.

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC x Sebastian Stan

Just A Little Chaotic (All Chapters)

Author’s Note: It gets a little smutty. I’m still working on writing smut. lol. Comments and suggestions are open!

“Thank you, Boston! I love you very much!” I said into the microphone and my band and I took our bow. We are already nearing the end of the American leg of my tour. I’ll have a week off then we’re off to start our Europe and Asia leg. I looked at my left and standing on the side of the stage was Chris, keeping himself hidden behind the curtains. He showed me a bright smile and two thumbs up. I looked back at the crowd as they cheered, and I waved them my goodbye then ran to Chris.

“You were amazing!” He greeted me with a huge bear hug. After my tiring performance, I left comforted and recharged in his arms. “Let’s go?” he said, and I nodded then we walked back to the dressing room. During my tour, Chris would call me everyday and talk to me as much as he can. We are like teenagers that would talk to each other until we fall asleep with our phones in our hands. Even when I’m getting my hair and makeup done, we would call each other on Skype.

“Finally, I can finally do this again.” Chris said and kissed me on my lips as he shuts the door of my dressing room behind him. I missed the taste of his lips and I can’t help but to devour him. We moved towards the couch and Chris gently pushes me down. He laid on top of me and kissed me from my lips to my neck. He didn’t care that I was a mess after my concert. I knew he wanted me in any way possible. Chris took every piece of clothing I had and threw it on the floor.

“I missed you so much.” Chris whispered in my ear as his hand roamed my body. From my neck, to my waist, to my legs. Chris’ touch was gentle but was electric to me. He played with my nipples with his other hand and his mouth. I can’t help but to moan.

“God, Chris I need you. Now.” I whined as I pulled on his belt. Chris took of his white sweater and I got up and pushed him down so he’s lying on his back. I took off his belt and pulled down his pants with his boxers. His member sprung out all stiff. I licked the shaft to the tip and Chris groaned in response. I took his length into my mouth and slowly moved up and down.

“Ali,” Chris groaned, and he gently placed his hand on my head. I sucked him harder and faster. Chris started to moan louder. I loved how he was vocal, and he didn’t hold back his moans. “Deeper, Ali. Come on, I know you can take it.” He said as he guided me down his length. It took me a while to take in his full length. Not only he was long, his girth made it a little difficult for me to take it all in my mouth. Chris’ gripped tightly on my hair as I moved faster up and down his shaft. As I moved up, I kiss his tip.

“You like that?” I said and licked his shaft.

“I’ll like it better when you’ll ride me.” He smirked, and I quickly positioned myself on top of him. Chris placed his hand on my mound, feeling my wetness. “I see you are already ready for me,” He then placed his hands on my waist as he guided me down as he slowly enters me.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned as I rode him slowly. I felt euphoric with every move I make. I propped my hand on his broad shoulders and changed to a faster pace. Our breaths got shorter as we both reach our peak. Chris rubbed my clit with his thumb, making me weak. My legs twitched as I came involuntarily. Chris flipped us over and just started pounding in me. I gripped on his large arms as I lose control under him.

“Fuck!” Chris said to himself as he released his load in me. I placed my hand on his cheek as we both catch our breaths. Chris kissed me deeply and said, “I love you.” My heart skipped a beat after what he said. His blue eyes stared into me. A huge smile crept on my face. “I love you. I am madly in love with you. Ever since I saw you on set, I knew I gotta have you in my life. It’s just – It’s crazy.” He shook his head as he finds the words he’s going to say next. His eyes sparkled as he looked at me straight in the eyes with sincerity, with care, with love. I felt safe in his eyes, but I was still consumed by my past. I was scared to trust somebody again. I was scared to let myself love someone again but with him, I’m excited to take the leap.

“I love you too, Chris.” I whispered. His face lit up and he started kissing me all over my face. “Now, let’s get dressed before they see us here.”

After we got dressed up, we went out of the dressing room to go to the car that was waiting for us. I changed into a much more comfortable outfit. Slip-on shoes, black jeans, a gray jacket, and a white t-shirt underneath. We went straight to the car and to the hotel. Even though I need to be up early tomorrow, Chris and I went to the hotel’s cocktail lounge.

“Will you stay the night?” I asked Chris as I took a sip of my daiquiri. We were seated on the stools at the bar, both facing each other. He took a sip of his drink and he smirked at me.

“Do you want me to?” he smiled and leaned closer. I kissed his soft lips and held Chris’ face. I rubbed my thumb across Chris’ soft beard which really looked great on him.

“I’d love it if you would stay the night.” I whispered in between kisses. There weren’t too many people in the lounge, so we didn’t care about being too showy. I pulled away from the kiss and smiled at him. “But I can’t stay up too late, I’m a bit tired and I have to get up early tomorrow. You know, a lot of press stuff for the tour.”

“I know, we’ll just sleep. I want you to feel good tomorrow.” Chris said. “If you want, I’ll run you a bath later, so you can relax,” before I get to respond, a brown-haired woman tapped Chris on his shoulder and greeted him.

“My oh my, Evans! What are you doing here?” she beamed at him, and Chris smiled back in response. Her hair falls down to her back, and she flashed a bright pearly white smile. To me, she looked intimidating due to the strong features of her face.

“Tori, oh my God, how are you?” he said as he got off his stool to hug her. Chris hugged her tightly, so I assumed that she is someone really close to him. “I’m visiting Ali – by the way, Ali, this is my friend Tori, she was my classmate before,” he explained as he placed a hand on my lap.

“Alison Bella,” I said and reached out for a handshake. Tori looked at Chris as if she’s asking for a confirmation of what was my relationship with Chris. She softly shook my hand and smiled. “I’m his girlfriend,” I quickly added. Chris’ and my eyes met, and I smiled softly at him. Chris grinned like he just won the jackpot.

Tori turned to Chris and playfully tapped on his arm. “You better behave yourself, Evans.” She teased. “I’m a big fan, by the way.” She said and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Anyway, I gotta go. I might be disturbing you guys, and it’s already late. I just wanted to say hi.” She smiled at the both of us. She gave Chris another hug and said goodbye. “Bye, Chris,” she smiled and then turned to me before walking away, “Bye, Alison.”

Well that was random,” I muttered and took another sip of my drink. I felt awkward after the encounter with Tori. Am I jealous? No, am I crazy?! She’s his friend. She’s just his friend.

“So, I’m your boyfriend, huh?” Chris’ voice snapped me from my internal monologue. He has a smirk on his face.

“Stop teasing, Chris. I might take it back.” I joked. Chris chuckled and sipped his drink.

“But you meant it?” he asked.

“Yeah, like where would this be going right?” I said matter-of-factly. “We’re just headed to that direction.” Chris’ face lit up. “I just wanted things to be taken slowly ‘cause y’know what happened to me and my ex before. It was scary to let myself go and let myself feel but I don’t know with you it’s so easy.” I began pouring out my emotions. “Being away from you, touring and all, made me realize that I should just take the leap.” I took a deep breath and said wholeheartedly, “I just wanted to be with you.”

“You know, the first time I saw you, I was really taken aback. Then as we got closer, I just fell deeper and deeper for you. I’m drawn to you. I just wanted to be with you, even if I have to wait… remember that I will.” Chris said and planted a kiss on my forehead. I looked at him with his bright blue eyes melting my heart. He looks like the definition of a perfect boyfriend. God, I’m lucky. “I know, you’re probably really tired now, I can see it in your eyes.”

“Or I’m just a little drunk.” I joked, and he chuckled in response. But Chris was right, my eyelids felt heavy and my body was already looking for the nearest surface to rest on.

“Let’s go to bed,” Chris offered and helped me off my seat. My phone beeped in my pocket and I checked who it was. It was Brandon, my manager.

You were great earlier. I’m so proud of you. We have a meeting tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.

After sliding my phone down to my pocket. Chris and I went to my hotel room to sleep. As promised he ran me a bath, but he left me alone which I appreciated. He let me relax by myself and cuddled me to sleep in bed. At that moment I knew, this is what I want for the rest of my life.

Tag list: @everything-is-awesomesauce @supernatural-girl97

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themagiciian · 7 years ago

Text

Floral Fluster - Ch. 2

Title: Floral Fluster Warnings: Contains mentions of gambling and vague alcohol abuse Chapters: 1/2/? Word count: 4,543 Relationship: Mugman/Cagney Carnation (relationship) Other characters: Cuphead, Elder Kettle, Rumor Honeybottoms (briefly mentioned), Hilda Berg (briefly mentioned).

Summary: Inkwell Festival is in a few weeks time, and Rumor insists that Cagney goes to it. Perhaps insisting he goes with Mugman might be the encouragement he needs to come out of his shell?

Author’s notes: I’m so so sorry this took a while. I really am. University sucks, life sucks, everything sucks. However... I am rather proud of this part. I sifted through and edited out all my mistakes this time.

As mentioned in the first part, if you are new here, Cuphead and Mugman are both, in fact, older. They are at least 17. I suppose this can be read as a one-shot, like the first part, perhaps...? Also, has the name for this ship changed? I’ve seen the tag “tea leaf” being thrown around here and there. I’ll use both, regardless, but ah well.

Also, I do apologise if Cuphead or Elder Kettle seem a little out of character. I wasn’t exactly sure how to write them. I’m so sorry.

But, without further ado... once again, please enjoy!

Mugman gave a heavy sigh as he practically burst through the door, panting a little as he had ran home. “I'm so sorry I'm late, pops!” He exclaimed, Cuphead and Elder Kettle looking up as he walked in. His cheeks were deep blue after having sped home, hurriedly removing his coat and hanging it up. “Sorry, sorry - hope I didn't miss nothin’…”

Cuphead rested his head in the palm of his hand as Mugman sat down opposite from him at the table. “Mugs, you almost missed dinner!” Elder Kettle exclaimed, clearly worried as he turned to the two brothers.

“Well- th’ keyword there is almost, gramps,” Mugman gave a little chuckle. Elder Kettle only tutted and rolled his eyes as his innocent playfulness, giving him a look that said ‘what am I gonna do with you?’. Mugman only smiled back before he glanced at Cuphead who seemed rather bored, playing with his fork idly. He didn't seem in the best of moods. The three went quiet, the only sound between the three were sounds of vegetables boiling, and the little thud of the fork hitting the table.

Mugman cleared his throat quietly to gently break the silence, before he piped up. “Slow day at work, Cups? You don't look too happy.”

“Oh, was it ever,” He began with a groan, shaking his head, “never been so bored in my fuckin’ life.” Cuphead quickly followed that up with a quiet 'sorry’ for the use of vulgar language. Kettle hated it when he swore. “We was jus’ movin’ around a buncha stuff today. Reorganising…” There was a pause for a shrug. “Total bore but, eh, it works. I get money outta it anyway.”

The final statement was followed up by brief smirk on his face, looking away for a split second. In a flash, it was gone. Mugman frowned a bit, suspicions roused, but didn't question. He wouldn’t touch on it at the dinner table- least of all in front of their grandfather.

“...Right,” was Mugman's only response, seeming a little hesitant, but his frown eased a little.

Before another silence could settle in, Cuphead sat up in his seat, looking up at his brother with a smirk. “So, where've you been? Y’ don’t normally go out, Mugs. Nearly fainted when I was told y’ were meetin’ up with somebody,” Cuphead joked, the smirk turning into a grin, “so who’s the lovely lady, 'en? Don't tell me you pulled Cala- you wouldn't break the bro-code.”

“I wouldn’t even dream a’ breakin’ the bro-code. But it ain't a girl,” Mugman answered, instantly blushing when Cuphead let out a loud 'oooooh’, that grin on his face only growing and Mugman couldn't help but giggle a little. “It ain't romantic… He's just a friend.”

Both Elder Kettle and Cuphead raised their brows at that. “What? I'm serious!” Mugman stammered, face still flushed blue.

“Mhmmmm, o’ course,” Cuphead looked like a Cheshire cat with how wide his snarky smile was, “so, who's your 'friend’?”

Mugman smiled a little to himself, looking down at the floor, before meeting Cuphead’s expectant gaze. “...Cagney.”

“Cagney?!” Cuphead suddenly yelled out, causing the other two to jump up as the tone of conversation took a u-turn. “You're hanging around with- with Cagney?!”

“Oh, I remember when that flower was just a little sprout,” Kettle mused adoringly, beginning to plate up their dinners, “he was so sweet. Hilda used to carry 'im around in this little flower pot. It was always so cute to see her runnin’ around with that little flower.”

“Y’ gotta be joshin’ me! Cagney Carnation, of all people? He’s the rudest resident this side of Inkwell! He's horrible!” Cuphead grumbled, very clearly displeased, muttering a 'thanks’ as a plate of food was put infront of him. “I don't like 'im.”

Kettle sat down at the head of the table, hands folded infront of him. Mugman had only rolled his eyes at Cuphead's comment. “He's nice to me, Cups! He's actually kinda charming,” Mugman replied with a little shrug, “and I'm going to meet him tomorrow.”

“I think that's sweet,” Kettle spoke softly, patting Mugman on the shoulder, “don't y’ think, Cuphead? Cagney’s a nice fellow. You should give him a chance.”

“Yuck,” Cuphead scrunched up his nose, clearly he had a distaste for the said flower. He scooped up a mouthful of food, shuffling a bit in his seat. “There is no way that- that dandelion is gettin’ another chance outta me! He was so rude about the whole soul contract thing. That big old weed is just… he's just… grumpy! And he's mean. He hit me with a vine once.”

“Wh- he did?” Mugman instantly became concerned, taken aback, suddenly beginning to have second thoughts. Cagney wouldn't do that, would he? “Why?”

“Well, y’know I was jus' passin’ through,” Cuphead started, “and this little flower kid is following me around so I tell it to buzz off, y’know? But it didn't… So I shot at it.”

“Well there's your answer,” Kettle interjected, shaking his head a little, “you shouldn't attack things like that.”

“It didn't leave me alone though!” Cuphead quickly came to defend himself, his expression turning sour. “I didn't wanna do it, it wasn't even that hurt... It was jus’ one dumb flower.”

“Those are his children, Cups!” Mugman argued, reaching out to poke at Cuphead's hand, to which the older brother grunted. “He's really protective of 'em, y’know? You'd be mad too if you had kids.”

Cuphead glared at that, teeth clenched a little. “Good thing that I don't,” Cuphead growled back, cutting the conversation off there. His now foul mood made the quiet air that fell upon them awkward. It wasn't like Cuphead to get in such a bitter state so quickly. Mugman's previous suspicions were roused again...

Kettle gave a look to Mugman, shaking his head a little, his expression one of concern. Kettle must've had the same thought he had. Thankfully Cuphead didn't notice them both roll their eyes.

Once dinner was over, Cuphead hastily got up with his own plate and cutlery. He dumped it into the sink, before stomping upstairs, his footsteps quickly becoming distant as he sulked off. Mugman flinched a little when he heard the bedroom door slam. He let out a soft sigh, picking up his own plate and Kettle’s, making his way over to the sink and began to clean up.

He paused from washing up when he heard Kettle stand up and begin to head up the stairs. “Wait, p-pops!” Mugman called, quickly running over, “I- I’ll talk to him. Don't worry about it.”

Kettle let out a frustrated huff, but he turned around and came back downstairs. Mugman smiled, relieved, reaching out and taking his grandfather's hand to guide him to his chair in the living room.

“I just don't know what's wrong with him, Mugs,” Kettle spoke softly, leaning back in his seat, “he's been so… grouchy recently…”

“I know, I know,” Mugman pat his shoulder gently, trying his best to be reassuring. Internally, his concern grew for his brother, recalling his earlier conversation with Cagney about Cuphead's gambling habit. He quickly decided not to mention it to Kettle. He didn't want him to worry, feeling guilt weigh down on his chest as he didn't like hiding things from his grandfather. But… He felt like he had a responsibility, to protect Cuphead from getting in trouble…

“It might jus’ be the change of seasons. He always gets grumpy in the cold,” Mugman reasoned, giving a shrug. Kettle seemed to be somewhat satisfied with that response.

Kettle’s arms folded across his chest, shaking his head a little. “I don't know, Mugs. Whatever it is… I'm sure he'll get over it,” He spoke softly, and before Mugman could turn away he caught his hand, “thank you…fer’ everything. You're so selfless and I… I can't thank you enough, Mugsy. Y’ better enjoy yourself out tomorrow with that Carnation. You deserve it.”

Mugman gave a little smile, gently squeezing his hand, his face becoming a bit blue at the mention of Cagney. “I’m sure I will. I’ll go see Cuphead after I clean up… Thanks, pops.”

“You're very welcome, son.”

With that, Mugman rushed back to the kitchen and turned away to finish washing up the dishes. He quietly hummed to himself as he cleaned up. Washing up was always therapeutic to him, and he found himself becoming lost in thought.

His mind slowly wandered back to Cagney as he scrubbed, leaning onto the counter a little as he looked out of the window just above the sink. It provided a view into the beginning of the forest where Cagney resided, though he couldn't really see it as it was so dark (neither did he have his glasses on, so it was difficult to see very far- he cursed himself a bit for forgetting to wear them when he really should).

‘Are we friends?’ Mugman found himself wondering, frowning a bit in thought as he began to scrub the dishes. He frowned a little in thought, staring out of the window at the dark forest right ahead. If he were a little younger, a little more naive, it would've been a definite yes, but now… He couldn't shake the feeling that Cagney might've just been tolerating him because he had to… especially after Cuphead's comments about the flower...

His lips curled down a bit. Cagney was always like that though, right? He just never really enjoyed people being around, and that was that.

Maybe it had just been too long. 'I probably should've been a better friend in the first place and kept in contact with him,’ he thought, 'then I wouldn't have this problem at all.’

'...It sure felt nice when I hugged him, though.’

Mugman's frown twitched into a smile, face flushing a little as he stifled a giggle. Then when he hugged back, even though his arms were really too long to hug properly... And when he put his hand on his shoulder to comfort him… It was sweet. He meant well. He shouldn't doubt Cagney so much.

'I guess it was kinda cute when I surprised him as well,’ Mugman pondered with a smile, 'was he sleeping? Hm… his petals felt nice to touch. I wonder if he liked it… What would that even feel like…?”

His train of thought was interrupted when he heard the door upstairs creak open, the floorboards groaning a little as someone stomped on them. His train of thought was promptly interrupted, hurrying to clean up the last of the dishes and cutlery before putting them aside to dry.

'Cuphead.’

In a hurry he just shook off his wet hands, flicking off the beads of water, before hastily making his way upstairs. As soon as Mugman saw him, Cuphead jolted, quickly shifting so his hands were behind his back. He couldn't look more guilty.

“Cups?” Mugman blinked, and Cuphead only stared back, shifting backwards to put more distance between them. “What are you hiding…?” Mugman quietly asked as he stepped up onto the landing, eyes slowly narrowing as Cuphead glanced about uncomfortably. He looked ready to run away- that was affirmed when Cuphead finally made eye contact and let out a nervous chuckle.

“Oh, nothin’, Mugs,” he answered, clearly trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, swaying playfully as if trying to look natural, “I dunno what yer on about.”

But it wasn't going to fool him. “What's in your hand?”

“I told ya. Nothin',” Cuphead chuckled again, “Dunno why yer even--”

“Prove it,” Mugman demanded, cutting him off. The faux look of innocence was quickly replaced by surprise, then irritation. “I wasn't born yesterday, Cups.”

There was silence, Cuphead glaring at him for a moment, before finally the elder brother spoke. “Fine,” he hissed, bitterness lacing his tone as he held out his hands. Mugman blinked, looking down at the item in his palm. It took him a moment to identify it, but it was undoubtedly a silver flask. Upon further inspection, that was undoubtedly King Dice’s brand etched onto the face of it...

Mugman’s own expression slipped into shock, before falling into disappointment. There was only one place he could've gotten it from... Why had he gone back to Inkwell Hell? What was he doing in that filthy casino again? Hadn't he learned from last time?

His mind swam with thoughts, but all he could utter was; “why?”

“...I… I dunno, Mugsy,” Came the quiet response, scowl fading into shame, “I- I’m sorry.”

“You've said that before, Cuphead,” Mugman exclaimed, “you said sorry but... you didn't do anything…” Much to his own dismay, Mugman’s eyes began to water, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. His throat and chest felt tight, but he forced himself to continue. “And- and you even went back t-there! What were you thinking? Do you even know what they put in that? They coulda’ spiked it, knowing that shady place--”

“I don't know why I went there, okay?! I jus’ wanted to- I thought it’d be fun! But I lost every single fuckin’ round against that stupid Dice anyway,” Cuphead gave a huff, pocketing the flask, “an’ he said he put bourbon in it. I had some, tasted fine. So I'm fine, okay? I'm fine.”

Mugman sniffled a bit, bottom lip quivering lightly. Without a word, Cuphead pulled him into an embrace, nuzzling softly against his shoulder as he heard Mugman begin to sob, clearly overwhelmed by emotion. The younger brother quickly returned the hug, gripping onto the back of Cuphead's t-shirt.

“Look, Mugsy… I'm sorry… I really am.” Cuphead said softly, one hand reaching up to stroke down his back gently. Mugman’s breath hitched, holding onto him tighter. “Please… You don't gotta be so worried 'bout me. I promise I'll be alright.”

“B-But- but what if you aren't, C-Cups…?” Came the meek response, followed by a gentle hiccup. “I j-just don't want to see you get h-hurt… I don't want anything b-bad to happen again…”

Cuphead moved away from the hug, reaching up to wipe away Mugman's tears. “I-Is that why you were so mad tonight? C-Cos’ you lost?” He asked quietly as his brother thumbed away the tears that spilled down his face. His question was answered when Cuphead looked away for a few seconds, before making eye contact again. “H-How much?”

“...All 'f it…” Cuphead hesitantly replied, “I didn't mean to take it out on ya…”

“No… I know,” Mugman gave a little smile, reaching up to brush away the last of the tears that leaked out of his eyes, “it’s… okay... It'll be okay,” he reassured himself, taking a deep breath, before exhaling. “I'm… sorry for gettin’ so upset…”

Cuphead smiled weakly in return, moving to wrap his arm around Mugman's shoulder with a light pat. “That's alright, lil’ brother,” he said, gently clinking his head against his brothers, “look... I'm so… so, so sorry… I wasn't thinkin’… I promise, I'll get better.”

Mugman gave a little nod. “Y-yeah…” He murmured, his own arm wrapping around Cuphead's waist. His crying had made him rather sleepy, leaning against the other a bit. “I… I'm tired. I better go to bed. I gotta get up early.”

He slipped away from his brother, turning to give him one last smile, before disappearing into his room with one last “goodnight”. Cuphead smiled back, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

Once the door had clicked shut however, Cuphead let out a loud sigh.

'Might as well finish it whilst I can,’ he mused internally, reaching for the flask in his pocket and promptly chugging down the last of its contents.

“Um, sorry I didn't really bring you much, Mister Carnation…” Mugman scratched the side of his porcelain head, stopping just before him, “I don't really know what flowers… um… eat.”

Much to his relief, Cagney wasn't offended or disappointed by this. Instead, he merely shrugged. “We don't really eat, so to speak,” he answered, “it’s hard to explain. I mean, I could probably eat 'normal’ food, but… I've never tried it.”

Cagney quickly patted the ground beside him as an invitation for him to come over and sit beside him, and Mugman quickly obliged. He took extra care to step over any flowers, before quietly sitting down on the grass next to him. He pulled his messenger bag up onto his lap, pulling it open from its buckles. “Well, today's your lucky day,” Mugman chirruped, reaching into his bag. Cagney leant down a little curiously, blinking when he pulled out his lunchbox.

Inside, Mugman felt a little bit embarrassed... He'd had this lunchbox since he was very young. The face of it had tacky stickers plastered all over it, and his name was clumsily written in the corner. The writing, as well as the stickers, had gotten worn away over the years but… he still felt fond of them, which was why he never made the effort to remove them. A bit childish, he knew, and now he was regretting not switching his lunchbox with Cuphead's just this once. He dismissed the thought, however, as he quickly clinked the box open, feeling Cagney’s gaze fixed on him. The thought of Cagney staring at him made his cheeks flush a little… but he soon shook his head, clinking the box open.

Cagney leant in further once it was open, head turning a little to see what was inside. Mugman smiled at the interest he'd taken. “By the look on y’ face, I would've thought you've never seen food before,” he mused aloud, and the flower actually gave a nod in response.

“I have a handful of times, but that was back when I lived with Hilda,” Cagney answered, “it's… kinda weird seeing it up close, actually. I don't know what I expected.”

Mugman actually giggled at him in return, not expecting such a response. This earned him a bit of a frown, but he didn't mind, and instead, he reached out to pat one of his petals playfully. “Well… since it's your first time…” he smirked, “you get first pick.”

The other had only flinched a bit in response to the pat, having not expected the contact, but didn't move away (which Mugman assumed was a good thing, since Cagney seemed a bit weird about touching). There was a hum of thought from him, eyes darting around the box, before hooking a donut on the end of his finger.

“What the heck is this?” He asked bluntly, bringing it to his face to inspect it. He didn't seem to like the feeling of the sugar that fell off as he picked it up, scowling at the residue it left on his finger, before promptly brushing it off.

“That's a donut- well, it's a sugar donut,” he explained, “it's sweet. Really sweet. Try it- y’ might like it.”

There was still a hint of confusion on Cagney’s face, his head tilting a bit. “I just…” he gave a little sigh, pulling it off the end of his finger and into his palm, “it's looks weird. What if I don't like it?”

“Then you don't eat it,” Mugman answered simply, shrugging, “I'm not gonna be mad if y’ don't like 'em... Just a donut, y'know? It's not gourmet.”

There was a second of hesitation, and he looked a little uncertain. Mugman was going to say something, however Cagney had already quickly scoffed it down in one go, swallowing hard without chewing. He cringed a little at the sight, eyes widening a little at the sudden motion, before nervously chuckling. Cagney probably grew up without table manners, after all, so he supposed it made sense that he'd just hawk it down without thinking twice.

“Well, was it alright or not?” Mugman asked quietly after a moment.

“To be honest, Mugman... I didn't really taste anything,” The response was as blunt and as flat as anything, stroking his chin in thought. Mugman brought a hand up to his forehead, laughing at how ridiculous he was. It only brought confusion to Cagney, however. “Wh-what's so funny?”

“You! You’re supposed to chew it first- n-not just wolf it down,” Mugman continued to giggle, much to the others embarrassment, “I've never seen somebody eat wrong before but you’ve managed t’ pull it off…”

Cagney’s arms crossed, looking embarrassed now. “W-Well, I'm sorry that I don't know how to eat properly,” he grumbled, face going red which only prompted another laugh out of Mugman. “Hey… hey! Stop laughing! It's not funny!”

“It is! It’s funny- no, it's hilarious,” Mugman continued to laugh, slapping his leg, face flushed blue from laughter. Cagney let out a snort of frustration, which only made him giggle even harder. “Oh c’mon, lighten up! I'm just messin’ wit’ ya!”

Mugman’s teasing laughter began to fade when Cagney gave a glare, face reddened, before sharply turning and pulling down two of his petals hard in embarrassment. He could hear the frustrated huff that came from him. Mugman soon reached out to take a hold of his hand, trying to stop him from pulling at himself. “W-Wait! Cagney, don't do that- you'll hurt yourself!” He cried, voice gripped with urgency as he tried to pull his hands away.

Cagney tensed up visibly, and Mugman could hear him grumble a bit. His needle-like thorns began to emerge from his body. Obviously, he was very agitated. “Mister Carnation…” Mugman's voice was low now, hoping he hadn't upset him too much, now being careful of those thorns, “I'm sorry. I was kiddin’. I promise… I don't mean it.”

Despite Cagney’s strained form, his hand didn't move from Cagney’s, his thumb gently tracing over his knuckles. He could feel him begin to relax, before he slowly let go of himself. Mugman smiled as he turned his head back to him, hand slipping into his palm and gave a gentle squeeze. Cagney wore a bit of a sheepish look, face still dyed a little red, before clasping his larger hand around his.

“Why d’ya do that?” Mugman asked, voice laced with soft concern, allowing him to hold his hand. He smiled sweetly at him- Cagney seemed a little anxious, after all. He went quiet as his thorns slowly withdrew- that was good thing, at least. “It's okay, Mister Carnation. I'm sorry for makin’ fun of you.”

“Ah, really, Mugman, just Cagney is fine. Sorry for getting so… flustered,” He mumbled in response, “...I, er, um... it's a habit. I used to do it when I was little, when I got scared.”

Mugman frowned in worry. “Have y’ ever pulled out a petal on accident?”

“...Yeah,” he let out a little 'tch’ to himself, “a lot of times, actually, heh. It really hurts when it happens… they don't grow back so quick anymore, either.”

“Golly, what am I gonna do with you?” Mugman sighed, moving his lunchbox and bag aside so he could scoot closer to him. “What if they don't grow back one day, mister- I mean, Cagney? What will you do?”

“We... nothing. I’ll live with it. I mean, I'll have to,” the answer was flat, and unsatisfying, followed up by a shrug. Mugman frowned a bit, leaning onto his shoulder.

“I think you worry too much,” Cagney commented idly after a moment, “you should relax a little.”

Mugman let out a 'pfft'. “...You sound like my brother.”

“Oh God forbid,” Cagney groaned, the sarcasm in his voice exaggerated, which made Mugman chuckle. Cagney gave a small smile at his laughter. “Oh, hey, did you talk to Cuphead after? ...What's up with him?”

Mugman's face dropped a bit, shaking his head. “He wasted his earnings down Inkwell Hell yesterday…” he began, his unoccupied hand reaching to rub his neck out of nervousness, “and he had a flask with 'im. I- I dunno. He said he'd stop but- but I dunno, Cagney. I don't know if I should believe him… what do you think?”

There was a hum of thought, before Cagney gave a nod. “I think he will. You're worried sick about him. Anyone can see that,” he reassured, “he'd be stupid not to.”

“Well he's been making a lot of stupid decisions recently,” Mugman grunted, letting out a deep huff of frustration. He then shook his head. This wasn't a very good topic for conversation. “I shouldn't… I shouldn't think about it. I shouldn't put my problems on you. Sorry, Cagney…”

“Uh, hey, don't worry about it! It's okay, I promise,” He quickly chimed back. The light response was a pleasant surprise. Finally, Mugman felt himself relax, the tenseness in his shoulders leaving and he slacked a little.

“Thank you,” he breathed, head still resting on his shoulder. In fact, he was talking so much, that he'd forgotten their hands were linked. That brought colour to his face again. He could felt his heart beat a little quicker... Cagney seriously didn't mind this? His chest felt like little flowers were growing and blooming inside of him. 'Th-this is so nice…’

“Mugman? Um… we are friends,” Cagney piped up after a moment, before glancing down at Mugman, “right?”

There was a pause. Mugman was taken aback by the question. But soon, he nodded, smiled up at him, and shifted closer. “Yes- without a doubt, Cagney.”

Cagney had mumbled a 'thanks’, and looked away. He assumed it was to conceal that smile, but he'd caught sight of it before he turned. He really was shy, wasn't he? Mugman stifled a giggle, nuzzling against his arm. That was one thing Rumor was right about… he really was just a big dork...

The silence was peaceful. He felt like he could fall asleep right then and there. Resting against his stem wasn't particularly comfy, but the closeness… it was pleasant. Maybe a bit more than pleasant, actually. He'd never been so close to another like this before. It genuinely felt nice. He felt more at ease than he had in awhile. No gramps to worry about, no Cuphead to worry about, no errands to get to.

He felt his eyes begin to shut, drowsiness growing. Maybe five minutes wouldn't hurt...

He was jolted awake as Cagney’s hand withdrew from his before he slipped into slumber, letting out a mumble of protest as he was pulled away from sleep so suddenly. “Tired?” Cagney asked, and Mugman nodded back. He smirked, “it’s because you stress yourself out, like I said, see? You get tired easily… let me help you into a more comfortable position.”

Cagney summoned a vine with a large leaf attached to it, curling it on the ground beside him. He shooed away some of his brood, making some space for their guest. Gently, Mugman was lifted, his head resting on the leaf. It was a make-shift pillow; though it was much better to rest against rather than Cagney’s shoulder, he found himself missing being at his side. But he feeling too sleepy to argue.

“Th-thank you…” Mugman murmured, eyes fluttering closed again. Another couple of vines popped up, some with leaves and little buds on them, gently wrapping around his body to act as a blanket. Before he drifted to sleep, he felt Cagney’s finger gently stroke his cheek, before he leant down to nuzzle against the rim of his head.

“You're more than welcome, my little bluebell...”

#Cuphead #Cuphead (Game)#Mugman #Cagney Carnation #Mugman x Cagney Carnation #Cagney Carnation x Mugman #Mugney #Flower Tea (Ship)#Tea Leaf (Ship)#Flower Tea #Tea Leaf #Fanfiction #Cuphead fanfiction #Magic Writes

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allisonilluminated · 7 years ago

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A Comprehensive Guide to Tagging

Hey all,

Tagging is super easy to figure out, but can be deceptively hard to figure out how to master. Most authors will probably change their tags at some point in between starting and finishing their story. The thing is, tags are one of the biggest ways people will discover and read your stories, so it's super important to get them right.

Why are tags so important? Your tags, along with your summary, are the criteria your readers will use to decide whether to read or not. This means that it’s important to both advertise what’s great about your story, but also any objectionable content that some readers want to avoid.

One of the biggest challenges about tags is that FFN and AO3 have completely different tagging systems. If you're cross-posting your work, you're going to have to figure both out. This post will be broken down into types of tags, then specified between the two sites.

Before we get into any specifics, this should be your fundamental tagging philosophy - “Would I be satisfied to come across this story if I was browsing this tag? If so, tag it. If not, don't.” (Awesome quote from u/Zaluzianskya on reddit)

Now, to get into specifics...

Ratings:

The rating of your fic requires you to have an answer to the question, “Who is my target audience?” If you don't know how to answer that, think about maturity. Am I writing a dark gritty fic, or a light comedy? Do I have gratuitous sex, or is my story gen?

FFN has four different ratings, and AO3 has five. Here's a breakdown of each one:

K (FFN Only) – These fics probably have no violence, no swearing, and no relationships stronger than friendship.

K+ (FFN) and General Audiences (AO3) – If you're writing one of these stories, there's probably some cartoon violence, maybe some light swearing, and some cutesy shipping. This tag is for lighter fics, especially if they fall under the Slice of Life, Humor, Family, or Friendship genres. Nothing here should merit an archive warning on AO3.

T/Teen (Both) – This is the default rating for a fanfiction, so if you're not sure, it probably fits here. Violence, cursing, and non-explicit relationships are enough to land a fic here, and the majority of works do fall under this description. The Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, and Drama genres all find their home here, although works of every genre are in this rating.

Mature (FFN) – If you write a mature story and post it to FFN, it will be automatically filtered off the home page. That's okay, because a ton of people seek out these sex filled, violent stories about immoral acts and other horrors. If there is explicit sex, your story must go here – especially non-con. Since FFN doesn't have content filters, it's extremely important that your reader knows when they're reading a story about suicide, rape, or another triggering event. It's your responsibility to make your story M if there is any explicit description of such things. If you're not explicit about sex or such, T is still a fine rating, but use your discretion. The Horror genre has a nice home here, I don't need to see that scary stuff on my front page. Note: Explicit sex is not allowed under FFN’s terms of service. AO3 is a much friendlier place for smut, with more readers as well, so you would be better off posting it there.

Mature (AO3) – Same as FFN, with two key differences. First, these stories will show up on the front page, so no worries about that. Second, this is for graphic and objectionable content with no sex or nudity. Save your lemons for…

Explicit (AO3 only) – Smut smut smut smuttity smut. If your characters are having sexy time, it's an E for you.

Not Rated (AO3 only) – Honestly, if I see a not rated fic, I automatically assume it's Explicit and avoid it. If you're writing a G fic and it's not rated, I can guarantee you you're losing readers because of it. Don't use this one.

Genres (FFN):

Genre is a totally underrated aspect of the FFN tagging system, partly because it is horribly misused. It's hard to know what genres to tag, especially when your work is an amalgamation of a bunch of different genres. On top of that, you get to tag one before the other.

I don't want to run through each one, but I'll walk you through how to choose your two genre tags.

Step One – Necessary Tags: Some genres are far more important to tag than others. Here's a list of Genres you need to tag if it's a part of your story.

Horror: Believe it or not, a lot of people hate horror. Absolutely tag this so those of us who scare easily get a fair warning. Remember this will usually be an M rated fic.

Sci-Fi: This really is only important for non-sci-fi fandoms, but if you cast your heroes several thousand years into the future I want to know before I click on the story.

Parody: Note – this is different from humor, you don't need to tag a fic that's just funny. If you're not taking canon seriously, or just playing around with it for your own amusement, please let me know ahead of time.

Poetry: Cool underused writing style in fanfiction, you should definitely tag it.

But wait, what about my Twilight Fic where Bella is trapped on a spaceship avoiding a tentacle monster named Edward trying to bewitch her into falling in love through stares and sparkles written in blank verse?

First off, that's incredible and somebody should write that. Second of all, just choose two and roll with it. If you really need to know an order, Horror should probably come first, then Sci-fi, then Poetry, then Parody.

Step Two – Target Audience: Who are you writing for? Why are you writing this fic? Why is somebody going to click on this story? Here's a brief rundown.

Note: Don't use the general tag. Passerbys want to know what your story's about, and this tag doesn't help at all. I can guarantee that your fic fits at least one of the other genres.

Romance: Slash. Yuri. Yaoi. The singular het couple on AO3. This is the most popular genre, and people want to look for it! This is the single most important non-essential tag; if your story focuses on any kind of romance, let the crowd know! We'll get back to this in character tags.

Adventure: Perfect for fandoms like Pokemon or TES. If it's about the journey, this is the one for you.

Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy, Drama, Angst: For the feels. Up to you to chose which one fits best, but you probably only need one of these unless your story is specifically telling you otherwise.

Mystery, Crime, Supernatural, Suspense: If it would fit on an airport bookshelf with the other thrillers, one of these is the genre for you.

Everything Else: I think for the rest, it'll be pretty obvious which of these you want.

Remember that you don't need two genres. If you wrote a romance novel, it makes the most sense to tag it as pure romance! Similarly, if you have one important guiding genre and a bunch of others that are less important, just tag the important genre. Your tags should be the best summary of your fic possible given the limited system at hand.

Step Three: What Comes First?: So you've chosen one or two genres. If there's only one, great! You're done. If you have two, ask yourself which one is more important to the story, what feels right, or just what looks more aesthetically pleasing. Getting the tag down is what really matters, so you've already done the hard work. Go you!

Completeness:

Completeness can be changed in the Manage Stories screen on FFN in your profile, or by editing your story and entering the number of chapters on AO3. A lot of people filter out works in progress, so make your hard work known!

Alright, that's it for the easy stuff, now let's talk about…

Character Tags (FFN):

Okay, the two tagging systems are about as different as is physically possible, so I'm going to do each on separately. FFN is so much simpler and more efficient in terms of characters, so it's easier to cover. There are two main character tagging philosophies for FFN, so we'll go over both before we talk about AO3's bloated mess.

Philosophy One: Main Character or Main Relationship – This is far and away the easiest tagging philosophy to execute. Are there one or two characters who are most essential to your story, or whose perspective the reader gets to see? Tag just them, and you're done. Is the whole point of your story shipping your OTP? Just tag the romance and you're done. For this philosophy, you don't have to use all four spots – it's absolutely fine if you only use one or two.

Philosophy Two: All Four Tags – Basically after determining who you would tag for number one, choosing more characters so all four of your tagging spots are filled. People will often tag a secondary relationship here, or give some of their secondary characters a spotlight. It's important to remember that lots of people filter out by character, so if there's a character in your fandom who's much more popular than the rest, tagging them can increase your view count.

Note – Having no tags generally isn't advisable. There are still amazingly written and popular fics on FFN with no character tags, but you're not doing yourself any favors.

Character Tags (AO3):

So, this one's a little bit more complicated. First, let's breakdown what not to do.

Unlike FFN, you should have at least one character tag. AO3 gives you so much more freedom than FFN with tagging, so it's way more jarring when a fic is completely untagged.

Do NOT overtag. If you've ever been on AO3, you've probably seen the overtagged story too many times before. This is probably the single worst tagging mistake you can make, don't do it.

Don't name your OCs in your tags. Your original characters may be great, but that doesn't change the fact that nobody knows who they are unless they read the story. Stick to the “Original Characters” tag and the gendered variants, no matter you have.

The most important thing about tagging on AO3 is something people forget far too often - Just because you can use as many tags as you want doesn't mean you should. This is the golden rule for tagging on AO3: You shouldn't have more than 10 character tags and 5 relationship tags with one massive exception, see below.

A couple more things:

Use the “Undisclosed Relationships” tag. You don't have to tag every relationship – surprise! If two side characters (read – not important) falling in love is a side plot that the story doesn't focus on, then you don't need to tag it! If two characters were dating in a flashback, you don't need to tag it! Keep your relationships tag to the important ones.

Usually, you shouldn’t tag platonic relationships. As a general rule of thumb, don’t tag these, because they’ll distract from your other relationships. However, if your story is gen (no shipping) then it’s okay to tag the main relationship your focusing on. To do this, tag it using the & sign instead of the / sign to indicate it’s a platonic relationship and not slash.

Relationship Tags are distracting. This might seem like a trivial point, but it’s actually really important to remember that relationship tags are designed to stand out. That’s why they have a gray background. If you have to many, it’s much harder to focus on your other tags.

None of the principles apply to smut. People are kinky. If you're writing a fic where you're shipping one character with literally everyone else from that fandom, feel free to tag every single pair/trio/orgy mentioned and shown in the fic. People want to know when their desired relationship is being shown, so tell them. Basically for Explicit fics only, but also might go for a big harem fic that's rated M/T.

Archive Warnings (AO3):

These aren't that hard to understand. If your characters are dying in droves, tag Major Character Death. If rape is mentioned, then tag Rape/Non-Con. If you're writing smut about fifteen year olds, tag Underage. If your characters are getting torn apart in a slow torturous death with lots of blood, tag Graphic Depictions of Violence.

Do not use “Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings.” Some writers accidentally equate this with “No Warnings Apply,” but it’s an instant red flag for most readers. It comes across as shady and untrustworthy, and readers won’t want to read your work.

There really shouldn't be any General rated stories with archive warnings. If you need to use them, then it's at least a Teen rated fic.

Content Tags (AO3):

Finally, we come to content tags. These pose an interesting question, because you can tag literally anything here. Your goal here should be to pose the more technical side of your summary – talk about plot points and devices here, not there. FFN doesn't give you that liberty, so you should take advantage of it.

What to put in your content tags:

Tropes: People search for things like “Soul Bond” or “Time Travel” all the time. You should absolutely be tagging these things, because they will attract your target audience to your story.

AUs: For all of the college and high school AUs out there. Not a bad idea to tag “AU – Canon Divergence” or “AU – Alternative History” if and when they apply.

Trigger Warnings: AO3's content warnings don't cover everything. You should tag specifications for general warnings, things like self-harm and bullying, and generally darker content.

Sexual Content: Tag your kinks, folks.

Alternative Relationship Tags: This is mostly personal preference, but I think tagging things like ship names should happen in the content tags, not the relationship tags. For example, my OTP has five different ship names and I tag them all, but I only put the “Character A/Character B” in the relationship tags. Again, remember that the gray can be super distracting and should be minimized.

Genre: Basically, follow the same Genre process as FFN or tag some more specific subgenres. Great examples would be tagging “Noir” or “Steampunk.”

Other Keywords: Most things should have been covered by the others, but any important one to three word descriptors can be added to.

What Not To Do:

Long Tags: No tag should ever be more than four words, unless it's something Canon specific.

Tumblr Tags: The tags are not a place for your meta thoughts. Throwing a “omg i need more coffee” or a “bumblebee is literally the cutest thing ever” says the same thing as the classic “I suck at summaries, read anyways.”

“I suck at summaries, read anyways.”: We've established this. If you tell me you suck at writing or “Why Did I Post This,” I will take your word for it and avoid your story.

Unimportant Tags: If it's not important to the story, don't tag it. So simple.

The discourse from the last post was amazing and a lot of people brought up awesome points. What's your personal tagging philosophy?

Thank you all, Allie

Support Me: Fanfiction.net - Archives of our Own

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #tagging

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wrestlewriting · 8 years ago

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Insolence, Pt. 12 [Adam Cole]

Title: Insolence, Part Twelve of Twelve (The End)

(Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven)

Characters: Adam Cole/OC(Brenna)

Genre: Fluff. Romance.

Length: ~5,000

Warnings: Language/cussing. A little touching but nothing remotely graphic. I’d give it a PG-13.

Summary/Inspo: “We never truly get over a loss, but we can move forward and evolve from it.” - Elizabeth Berrien

“If I ever get the nerve to ask, What did I get right to deserve somebody like you? I wasn’t expecting that.” - Jamie Lawson

@catie-kaboom @libby-rose-2016 @legitlunatic @valeonmars @superkixbaybay @danapotterwwe @alexahood21 @rollinstrash @covergirlcollarbones @hiitsmecharlie @tearsropsandtiedye @thedeboniardevistation @ily-zaddy @wweismyguiltypleasure @darwarsnoam @bulletbaybay @megan-monroe @pjanina13 @msgem

AUTHOR NOTE: So. This is it. The end. It’s so bittersweet for me. I’ve really enjoyed writing this story and the journey I didn’t know as a writer I’d end up on.

This story wouldn’t exist without every single of one of you that has read, liked, commented, and motivated me. THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I have read every comment and message with warmth in my heart. You guys seriously are so great and awesome and just as much a part of this as I was. I never thought this story would reach five people, let alone as many as it has. It’s truly unbelievable to me. Super special shout-out to those tagged above; your support and encouragement made a world of difference in doing this story.

I hope I did this last chapter justice. I contemplated doing two more, but I didn’t want to unnecessarily drag it out/ruin it by doing too much.

Enjoy one last go ‘round with Adam and Brenna. ;)

Waking up the next morning had been a struggle. You were still tired, yet your body was coming out of sleep on its own. It wasn’t that anything specifically was waking you; no alarms were going off, the curtains were still drawn keeping the sunlight out. And Adam wasn’t moving next to you.

Cracking open an eye, it took you a moment to realize why that last thing wasn’t an issue.

Adam wasn’t even in bed with you.

A bleary glance at the clock on the bedside table told you it was just past 9 in the morning. Rolling around in the sheets, ending up on your back, you listened closely to the silence, expecting to hear him in the bathroom. Except, you didn’t.

“…Adam?”

No response.

Sitting up, you leaned over, almost falling off the bed, to turn on the lamp. You realized in doing so his side of the bed wasn’t all that warm. Scanning the room, you didn’t see his suitcase anymore near yours by the wall; no clothes on the floor, no shoes, nothing of his sitting on the dresser.

All traces of him appeared to be gone.

Oh…my…god…

You tried to not panic. You tried not to think Jay had known what he was talking about, that Adam had gotten what he wanted and promptly bailed. You tried to remember to trust him and believe everything he had said to you thus far. You tried to come up with a logical explanation for his absence. You tried, you really did.

All but tumbling out of the bed, you quickly went to your suitcase and grabbed the first t-shirt you could find and a pair of shorts. Tugging them on with shaking hands, you went to the door and pulled it open just enough to peek out in to the hallway. You wanted to see Adam there, coming back with breakfast or taking a phone call.

The hallway was empty however.

That was when your anxieties started to win the war within yourself.

Dread, regret, anger, panic, unease, sadness…all of the reactions ran through your brain and in to your body. Your heart rate sped up, while your lungs felt unable to take in anymore air.

He was gone.

You didn’t shut the door so much as it slid from your fingers, stuttering before clicking shut on itself.

While your insides felt like they were buzzing with negativity, your outside was frozen where you stood. You didn’t know what to do. Cry? Scream? Sit quietly and feel like an idiot?

Slowly, you came to, trudging your way back in to the room. You fell backwards on to the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Your lungs remembered how to work as your back hit the bed, and you started to take in deep gasps of breath.

No.

NO.

No.

This couldn’t be happening. He had to be downstairs, around the corner, somewhere still in the hotel. He had told you; he was in this, totally, completely. This wasn’t just a fling to him. There had been titles, definition, given to this.

He wasn’t the person to just leave. He wasn’t.

But what if…he had just played you?

You grabbed a pillow and smashed it over your face at the thought.

That would make you total idiot. All of the talks, the arguing, the back and forth, the flirting, the kisses, the assurances…all for naught.

Maybe Jay and Mark had been right. Perhaps you had been totally wrong.

Actions spoke louder than words, didn’t they?

No.

NO!

He was coming back. He had to be.

Adam was with you, for all the right reasons. Because he wanted to be. Because he cared about you on a level beyond superficial. Because he had a good heart, and you mattered to him. You had to believe that, trust that.

You know that. You know he’s a good friend, and he’s a good boyfriend. You know that.

Somehow through the debate, and chaos, and assurance that was running in your brain, on top of the white noise that was rushing in your ears, you thought you heard the door open.

Slowly, you lifted a corner of the pillow off your face, peaking out curiously, almost fearfully.

“…what are you doing?”

You wanted to reply…you just couldn’t.

You felt frozen by surprise, stupidity, and adrenaline.

“Bren? You OK?”

“…yep,” you squeaked out, before putting your face entirely back under the pillow.

What a fearful, cynical fool you were.

What a terrible person you were.

Adam had promised you time and time again he wasn’t using you, wasn’t out to hit it and quit it. Yet, when push came to shove, you hadn’t totally believed him, had allowed yourself to think the absolute possible worst of him.

You had to stop this. You had to stop letting other people’s opinions sway yours. You were the one with Adam, no one else. Who he was with you, just you, that was the person you needed to base all your thoughts and reactions on.

He wanted to be with you; you wanted to be with him.

It was what it was.

And yes, that brought about vulnerability and risk. But you had to let yourself be open to those things. Because that’s what relationships entailed, to some extent.

There would never be another Evan in your life. But there was an Adam. And he was right for you, in all his own ways.

You took in a shaky breath, trying to settle yourself, stop yourself from freaking out any longer. Pressing the pillow harder against your face, you squeezed your eyes tightly shut beneath it.

“You sure you’re OK?” Adam’s voice was much closer now, and a moment later you moved with the bed as it dipped, indicating he had sat down beside you.

Lifting your hand, you made a ‘too sweet’ gesture, causing him to laugh.

“Why you under the pillow though? The curtains aren’t even open.” You shrugged, though you weren’t even sure he could see that.

“Baby, hey…what’s up?”

After a quiet moment, you finally removed the object from your face, flinging it down towards the bottom of the bed.

“Where were you?” you asked instead of acknowledging his question.

“Took my stuff down to the car,” he explained. “Figured it’s one less thing for us to worry about.”

Of course he had. There was your logical, rational explanation. The one your overactive, anxious, stupid, awful brain hadn’t even at all remotely thought of.

“You don’t look OK,” Adam commented, and you weren’t surprised. You knew that there was no way you didn’t look like you’d been having what was probably a panic attack.

“Just…so not ready to leave,” you lied, hating yourself with every word you spoke. But you didn’t want to tell him what had been running through your mind the last few minutes; it would just upset him. This was on you, not him.

“Yea, I can understand that. I’m not either,” he agreed. Adam leaned himself over you, his arm crossing over your body, his hand resting on the bed beside your furthest side. “By the way, good morning, gorgeous.”

“Hey there,” you grinned back at him, telling yourself you weren’t blushing, but knowing you were.

Last night came rushing back over you as he looked down on you, his eyes shining. Your date and drinks. The hotel room. Clothes disappearing fairly quickly off of yourselves. How caring he had been in every movement he had made towards you, and with you. The security, the peace, you’d felt lying next to him.

You hated yourself a little bit more for doubting him moments ago. Last night should have wiped all concerns away.

“I have an idea, and you can tell me no,” Adam stated, gaining your attention and curiosity. “I was thinking that for the couple days before we have to go down to Florida, you come and stay at my place.”

Adam was going to be in England this coming weekend, you knew that. And you would be home, working. The next weekend you had an AIW show, and he was to be home.

“What? Two weeks too long apart?”

“Yes.” His answer came without hesitance, making your insides flutter. Reaching up with one hand, you guided his face down to yours, pressing your lips to his. You could feel the smile on his face as he kissed you back, letting his upper body rest against yours. “So is that a yes?” He barely broke from you to ask.

“It’s a yes,” you confirmed, your sentence just finished before he had his mouth on yours again.

“You know, we don’t have to be outta here for a couple hours still,” Adam pointed out, as he leaned back enough from you to be able to see his face.

“Oh yea? Got some ideas?” You raised your eyebrows, suppressing a smirk.

“Got a couple,” he admitted. He, however, did not suppress the smirk on his face.

“Wanna show me?”

“Gladly.”

Your hastily thrown on clothes ended up taken off just as hastily by Adam within moments.

A week and a half later, you were gently pressing at the skin under your eye, cringing as you barely touched it and a sharp pain shot through your entire being. There wasn’t yet a big bruise on your cheek, but it was puffy and you knew the colors would become more vibrant in a few days’ time.

It was no fault of your opponent’s for your injury. They’d thrown an elbow a little high, and you’d stepped a little off target. It was an honest mistake. Granted, it was a mistake that really fucking hurt, the jab to your cheekbone hadn’t been intentional. You were just grateful it hadn’t been directly in the eye, or nose.

Picking up the ice pack you’d made from a bag and ice, you placed it gently back on your face, turning off the light as you left the hotel bathroom. You went and laid down on the bed; flat enough that you could balance the ice pack on your cheek hands-free, but up enough that you could still watch the TV with one eye.

Colt had, reluctantly, allowed you to retreat to your hotel room alone. You had to adamantly promise to call if you had any issues.

It was just shy of 11PM when your phone started ringing. Grabbing it from beside you on the bed, you looked at the screen.

The name that showed was the last one you expected to see.

Sliding the bar, you pressed the phone to your ear.

“…hello?”

“Hey bug,” Jay’s gruff voice came over the line.

“…what’s up?” You were being cautious you with him, but based on your last interaction, no one could blame you for it really. Jay had made his feelings very clear to you, and you had made yours equally known. The two of you weren’t on good terms right now.

“I uh, heard you got clipped in the face tonight. Also had a picture sent to me from Twitter. You a’ight?”

“I’ve taken worse.”

“Didn’t answer my question.”

“Hurts a bit, but nothing to be worried over,” you replied, a small smile coming to your face at his concern. Apparently fights aside, he still cared, so that was nice to know.

“Got a shiner?”

“Eh, sort of? It’s a little lower than that, definitely directly on my cheek.”

“How’d it even happen?”

You gave Jay a brief description of the in-ring mishap, making sure to repeatedly highlight that it was an accident. After, he asked about the match and show overall, and you gave him a rundown of your night. He listened, and offered some opinion on others that you had been around that night.

“Has Cole called?”

And there it was, the thing that caused you to grit your teeth. You should have known the pleasant conversation wouldn’t last forever.

“I haven’t called him. He’s out with family,” you answered, your tone clipped.

“So that’s a no.”

“Jay…just, fucking don’t, OK?”

“Just sayin’, if I’ve heard about what happened to you, he probably has too. And he should be checkin’ up on you.”

“Or maybe he doesn’t know what happened. Maybe he doesn’t have little spies on me like you do. Maybe he trusts me and knows I’m going to tell him myself.”

“I trust you. I don’t trust him.”

“Why can’t you believe that maybe he’s changed from the person you knew?”

“Because people don’t change like that,” Jay argued. “You may be happy now, shit, for a couple years…but eventually, he’s gonna do what he always does.”

“You psychic now?”

“Nah, but I know history likes to repeat itself.”

You’d had enough.

“You know what? You have no idea how much all this bullshit with you has messed with me,” you declared. “And I can’t have it. Adam isn’t what you say he is. But thanks to you, the first sign of anything I don’t know, I immediately think the worst of him. And that’s not fair. He wasn’t there when I woke up the other day, so I immediately went to ‘he’s left me for good’. And he hadn’t. Because he’s not that person. I feel horrible that I thought those things about him unfairly.

“And a lot of it is because of you getting in to my head, and not being my big brother, but a jackass. I thought you’d be a person I could always count on, trust in, that would have my back. And you’re not being that person right now. And I’m tired of it.”

“I don’t have mind control of you.”

“No, but you do have influence,” you replied. “And it’s not a good influence anymore. I have to be my own person, make my own decisions. And…I’m deciding on Adam.”

“You know he’s going to the E, right?”

“No contracts have been signed,” you retorted.

“Oh come on,” Jay protested. “You can’t be that ignorant.”

“I’m not. He and I have talked about it, actually, thank you very much,” you snapped. “And if that happens, Adam and I will figure out what that means for us.”

It wasn’t a total lie. You and Adam had spoken briefly about the possibility of him signing with WWE when in Vegas. Everyone knew of the rumors. He had acknowledged he’d talked to some people, but he also said he had been talking to ROH and NJPW as well. You hadn’t pushed for more information, figuring until he had more definite ideas, it wasn’t worth it for you to worry.

“It means you get left behind and hurt, and we all have to put you back together again.”

“I’m not fucking Humpty Dumpty!” you objected angrily. “This may be a shock for you to hear, but sometimes people can have different careers and maintain relationships. I know, I know, it’s crazy!”

“You can be as fucking sarcastic as you want, kid, but we both know you staying on the indies and him going to the big machine, it’s a kiss of death.”

“NONE of us knows that,” you corrected.

The argument stalled after that, both of you firm in your opinions and thoughts. You knew Jay thought he was looking out for your best interest, but you also knew he was blinded by his own feelings about Adam.

“Jay, I’m not doing this with you anymore,” you all but sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. “Either you’re on my side, or you’re not. I can’t keep fighting you to change your mind, because I know you won’t until you want to. So you can stop being so negative about my relationship, or you can get out of my life.”

“So that’s how it is? You choose some new guy over someone that’s had your back?”

“Adam has been my friend for years. And yes, you have been one of my closest friends for just as long. But right now, you’re not being much of a friend. And he’s being the best one I’ve got,” you explained.

“Well, I hope he stays that way. But when he don’t, don’t come crying to me. You’re making your choice to be with him, and I’m not supporting that.” Jay said, and you felt a tightness come into your chest. While you had been the one to give the ultimatum, you hadn’t expected him to make his decision so quickly, so easily.

“OK,” you breathed out. “Bye.”

Ending the call, you gave him no time to respond. You tossed your phone on to the bed beside you, closing your eyes, and then blinking rapidly. The tightness turned to an ache as you realized that you had just basically broken up with your big brother. And it was then that you let the tears run down your face.

Five days later, you found yourself standing in the bathroom in Adam’s house, doing your make-up. You’d arrived earlier that day, and after some ‘I’ve missed you’ sex, and a subsequent shared shower, you were finally getting ready to go out.

Adam had made plans for you to meet with his family for dinner, before hitting up a bar with some friends. When he had told you, you had balked all around, out of sheer fear. But, when he’d told you his reasoning, that he wanted to get as much time with all of the people he cared about as possible, you had no argument against it.

Over the years, you’d met his mom at various shows briefly, and his brother a bit more frequently. You’d never met his stepdad, nor his cousin and his long-term girlfriend. His mother and brother were both wonderful people from what you saw, and Adam always spoke very highly of everyone in his family. Of course, now that you were girlfriend, it was a little different, and you couldn’t deny there was a nervous buzz running through your veins.

Which was why you were taking your careful time to do your hair and makeup, and picked out an appropriate outfit. This was a first impression, for some genuinely and for others in a new way, and you wanted to make the best one you could. His mother meant everything to him, and you did not want to put a bad taste in her mouth.

Music was playing out of your phone as you got ready, some playlist you’d found on Spotify. You were more focused on your eyeliner than the songs, and you certainly were too focused to notice Adam sneaking up behind you. Thankfully, he waited until you’d stopped drawing on your face to grab you from behind.

“Adam!” You laughed, attempting to unwrap him from you, pushing at him. He was singing along to the song, Britney Spears, which raised some questions for you. The more you laughed and tried to push him off, the more he tightened his arms around you, and sang louder.

“Stop! I’m trying to get ready!” You shoved at him again, and he finally stopped trying to sway you around. Kissing the back of your neck, he released his hold on you and stepped back.

“If we’re late, I’m blaming you.”

“And believe me, no one would argue that,” he replied, turning and hopping up to sit beside the sink on the counter where you things weren’t spread out. You returned to your makeup, and eyeshadow. “You know, you really don’t need to do all this.”

“Yea, I do,” you stated, focusing on your reflection and not him. “And please, don’t feed me some line about how I don’t need makeup to be pretty.”

“I know better,” Adam assured you. “You’ve told me more than once over the years that you don’t do this because you feel like you have to, but because you want to. I’m aware. Trust me. What I meant was, doing all this for tonight. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” you contended. Adam, smartly, didn’t continue to try to debate his side of the matter. “What time is it?”

“A little before 5. We’ve got plenty of time.”

You took his word for it, and continued to work on your appearance. Adam remained sitting beside you, humming along to some songs, handing you any items you requested. It all felt so…domestic. You liked it.

And I see colors in a different way. You make what doesn’t matter fade to grey. Life is good and that’s the way it should be.

Soon enough you were in his car, heading out to meet up with his family at a restaurant a couple towns over. The car ride was full of you asking questions about anything you saw out the window, attempting to learn about his life. Adam was amused by your constant questioning, but answered all your inquiries.

After arriving at the restaurant, and Adam parked, you had to take in several deep breaths as you got out of the car to calm yourself. The closer you got to the front door, the more your nerves acted up. Adam loved his mom and brother, what if they hated you? They accepted you as friend, but as more than that…it just wasn’t the same, and could be an issue. It would be in the same way Jay had no issue with your being around Adam, but had severe issue with you dating him.

“Hey,” Adam’s gentle voice got your attention, his hand tightening where it held yours, causing you to look up towards him from under your eyelashes. “Relax. This isn’t a big deal.”

“Easier said than felt,” was your response.

“We’re literally going to have a couple beers with my family, that’s what this really is. You know most of these people, you’ve met them before. We all get along just fine.”

“Different time, different circumstance,” you pointed out.

“So are we, Bren. That’s what we do. This is different, remember?” His tone was clearly teasing and knowing, meant to lighten the mood. It worked. You had to giggle at his word choice; it was somewhat of an inside joke almost for the two of you by now. A smile broke on his face at your mirth.

“Can we be normal at some point?”

“That’s just downright boring,” Adam declared, acting almost offended at such a suggestion, which made you grin wider. “And sweetheart, we ain’t boring.”

“Touché,” you concurred.

“So, ready to go in there?” He jerked his head towards the door and subsequent restaurant building.

“Beer?”

“You go wild,” Adam said. “I’ve got driving duties for the night.” Standing up straight, you kissed him a few short times to show your gratitude.

After that, he pulled open the door, allowing you to enter the building ahead of him. You found his family in the waiting area almost immediately. It was a bit of a surprise when you were pulled into hugs by his mother and brother, but you went with it, and didn’t miss the endeared smile that was on Adam’s face while it happened. Everyone else politely exchanged greetings, before you were seated in the back at a long table.

Dinner ended up being some of the most fun you’d had with family ever. While you enjoyed your parents and extended family, you weren’t particularly close-knit. Adam’s family definitely was. Jokes and loving-insults flew just as easily as honest words and advice did.

You’d been high-strung at first when his mother had taken a seat directly next to you, but after a couple beers shared, you realized you had nothing to worry about. She was just as fun and kind as the other times you had met her, maybe even more so, as she seemed to take great pleasure in telling you embarrassing yet adorable things about Adam.

The bar was equally as entertaining and fun as dinner was. While his mom and stepdad had opted to leave, his brother, cousin and girlfriend, remained. You found yourself in a dive bar, where some of his other friends joined you. Drinks were shared, as was laughter. You endured a genuine and serious questioning from his cousin’s girlfriend, who you realized was more like a little sister to Adam than anything. Thankfully, you’d passed that test.

By 1AM, you were headed back to Adam’s house. You felt happy with, proud almost, of the night. Adam had wanted you to meet the people he called family and friends, people that meant a lot to him. And you hadn’t screwed it up. It was another ‘check’ for your growing relationship, you felt.

Walking through his front door, your only-kinda-inebriated brain decided tonight needed to be ended with no clothes and a lot of touching. While Adam went to the kitchen, you kicked off your shoes, and went in to the living room. The second he sat down, after setting two beers down on the table, you moved yourself over him. You bent your legs, placing your knees on either side of his, straddling him. You put your hands on his shoulders, eyelevel with him.

“…well, hello.”

“Hey,” you purred, immediately leaning down to capture his lips with yours. Adam, to his credit, put up no protest. His hands went to your sides, where he moved them upwards, taking your shirt with them for a moment, before they moved back on to your shoulder blades. Your fingers dug in to his shoulders, your hips pressing down in to his, as your tongues met.

“Bren, wait…” Adam broke away from you, his breathing as heavy as yours.

“Dude, seriously?” you bemoaned, trying to go back to kissing him, and being rebuffed.

“I have to tell you something.”

“…now?” You couldn’t help but sound exasperated.

“Yes, now,” Adam maintained. Literally swallowing an annoyed groan, you moved back from him, continuing to straddle him but putting distance between your bodies. His hands rested tightly on your hips, holding you in place, as you set your hands on his upper abdomen between yourselves.

“Alright, what couldn’t wait?” Adam gazed at you, his blue eyes searching your brown ones briefly. He was quiet for the moment, observing you. It occurred to you that he seemed almost…nervous? Uncertain?

“When we get to Florida, I uh…I’ve got a meeting with WWE.”

“…I figured you would.”

“I want you to come with me.”

That part you hadn’t expected, and you knew your face said as much.

“Why?”

“Because…you’re…far better at thinking all possible parts of a situation through. I need you to do that. You see things differently than I do.”

“OK… But you realize that I kind of, on a personal level, don’t care about all sides of this, right? Like, I’m not going to be objective with this.”

“I know,” he ensured. “And I want that. I want you to be that way. Because that means you’re gonna hear things that maybe I don’t. Or read between the lines in a way I won’t.”

“You sound very distrusting of your possible future employers.”

“All business is distrustful, on some level,” Adam replied. You couldn’t really argue him. Almost every wrestler had at one time or another dealt with shady business and being screwed by promoters.

“Fine….” you reluctantly agreed. “I guess I’ll be the devil on your shoulder.”

Adam looked pleased with your response, and drew you into a kiss to show it.

“You know where else you can be a devil for me?” The slow smirk that came to his face said it all. Part of you wanted to roll your eyes, and the other part of you wanted to blush.

“You are too much,” you muttered. “I’m literally on top of you right now.”

“On top of, under…I’m not gonna be picky. As long as it’s you with me.”

“You and me, huh?”

“You and me,” he affirmed. “I think we’ve got a good thing going here.”

“What if it all changes though? A lot is up in the air right now.”

“Then…we’ll adjust with the circumstances,” Adam decided.

“I think I know something else that needs to be adjusted,” you murmured, turning your lips up at the side, as you slid your hand slowly down his torso towards his belt.

“Jesus,” he all but groaned as soon as your hand traveled over the belt and to the front of his pants.

“I thought I was the devil?” you asked coyly, ever so gently moving your hand across him.

“Be whatever you want to be. Just do not stop.”

“Hey Adam?” His eyes, almost begrudgingly, opened and came to meet yours. You did stop moving, despite his request, and just gazed down at him for the moment. Taking in a shallow breath, you knew you had to say this before things went too far. “I want this.”

After a second, a genuine smile came to his face. And with that, you could tell he knew you were referring to more than just the physical act you were both entangled in.

“Good,” he stated, reaching a hand up to your face, guiding you down to meet him in a deep kiss.

Despite all the ups, downs, and all-arounds…you finally felt a semblance of calm again in your life. And no one was more surprised than you that you had Adam Cole to thank for that. You were thankful. And hopeful. This was the beginning of something fantastic. Fun.

Different.

Doesn’t matter where I go, Doesn’t matter if I run, We were always gonna get too close, We were always gonna fall in love. Doesn’t matter where I go, Doesn’t matter if I run, We were always gonna get too close, We were always gonna fall in love. I don’t want to fall asleep without you, I don’t want to take one breath without you. Oh, and I don’t even know one thing about you, But give me everything about you, I know that… I don’t want to fall asleep without you. (Never without you) I don’t want to take one breath without you. (Never without you) I don’t even know one thing about you, (Give me) But give me everything about you. (Give me) It’s only been a moment, it’s true, But I could never live this life without you.

El fin. [For now. I’ll revisit these two some day…. ;) }

#adam cole #adam cole fan fiction #adam cole fanfic #adam cole imagine #wrestling fanfic #wrestling fan fiction #wrestling imagine #wrestling fan fic #roh fanfic #roh imagine

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