#does anyone know or have any advice on how to stop the thoughts of sh? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sleeplessmidnight26 · 10 months ago

Note

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos)

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

16. How did you discover AO3?

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

1. SleeplessMidnight was just something I thought of because I can’t sleep at night I guess. 😅 seemed like a cool username and now it’s stuck haha.

2. Before He Cheats is the my most popular, it had the most response, probably because of the huge twist I threw in there.

4. (I assume this should be 3 but I’m keeping it 4 to keep from confusion) Yes I have a few regular commenters. I do love getting comments and try to respond to each one as quick as possible.

5. I do keep going back to read Love Me (With No Explanation).

If you’re talking about mine, I keep going back to read You’re Safe Now. Because this one is the most meaningful to me. It helped me work through the abusive relationship I had with my last job.

7. I guess I find myself writing AU no powers with Marvel. I have written other fandoms but haven’t posted them on my AO3 account. Or like AU somewhat along the canon storyline with my own twist.

9. Hmmm 🤔 I guess I’ve got some ideas for some stories. I’ve been thinking of a threesome kinda situation 🫣 also maybe like a torture scene. Both I haven’t written but low key want to.

10. I guess I’d like to be better at writing smut? 😅🫣 I feel like my writing on that isn’t good. Like every scene I write, I delete and re-write it. I’d also love to be able to upload more but life 🤷🏽‍♀️

13. Too many to count. Haha 😂 one day I’ll get around to uploading them.

15. I have not co-authored a story. But I would love to if the opportunity came up.

16. My cousin showed me. I originally started on fanfiction.net not anything that was good but I’m locked out of my account so I can’t get back to that.

17. I wouldn’t consider myself famous, although I do find it wild that I got so many requests. I’d say I’m becoming well known but I wouldn’t consider myself famous yet.

18. I don’t know what I would call my readers/fans (omg I have fans😳) but if anyone wants to name them, go for it 😅

19. Not really. I’ve always kind of wrote stories, it’s been my coping mechanism. I stopped for a while because I was battling self harm but I’m now six years free of SH.

20. Just write, don’t think about who’s going to read it or if it’s good. Just write what you want. You can go back to edit later.

22. I’ve gotten a couple. I just ignore it or kill it with kindness. One comment I didn’t even get a chance to respond to before another reader came to my aid.

23 Smut, I’m so self conscious that I’m writing it wrong. 🫣

24. I have so many. My first request. I’ve also got some ideas that I need to get too. I have too many WIPs that it’s a problem.

27. I definitely feel like I have, or I hope I have.

28. My favourite story I’ve written would probably be beautiful trauma. It’s very different focusing on such an age gap.

29. Unexpected True Mates. It’s my first omegaverse story and I feel like I’m butchering it. Probably why it’s taking me so long to finish it 🫣

30. Honestly, I have been thinking of writing an actual book and getting it published. So maybe I’ll work on that. But I don’t know who would read it. 🫣

Wow that’s quite the series of questions 😂 it’s still wild to me that I have fans and people that want to ask me questions. But I do enjoy the interaction. Which is why I love comments. 🫶🏽 thank you!

2 notes · View notes

angst-fairygodmother · 3 years ago

Text

Girl Talk (The Song of Sway Lake Fic)

A/N: The moment has finally arrived! The first official collab/crossover between myself and @miss-kittys-magical-library! I’m really excited for how this came out, and how much fun we had writing it together. 😊 Word Count: 3127 Rating: T - mild language, brief mention of blood, discussion of violence

~The Papermill bookstore, Sway Lake~

Selina burst through the door of the bookstore. She almost doesn't wait for Jess to say hello or ask questions. Selina is overcome with adrenaline, the exhilaration of what she did. A giant smile spread across her lips. There's almost a dreamy look in her eyes.

She's covered in blood: her hands, her jeans, the bottom of her shirt. Selina held her hands like a surgeon so she didn't touch anything.

Jess’s mouth hung open while she pointed nervously towards the upstairs. Her friend knew where to find what she needed.

Selina comes out of the hot shower knowing Jess will be in the room waiting. She found clean clothes but stopped to study herself in the mirror. Somehow she felt like her body had changed somehow.

Selina caught a picture of her and Jess and held it up. How far they've come from the girls in the photo on her best friend’s dresser.

She glimpsed Jess in the mirror, a strange smirk on her face. Selina knew something was up. She handed the picture to her friend and spoke,

“Can you believe this was us?”

------

There had been a time in life where Selina and Jess had told each other everything, no matter what. And yet somehow this summer, one of the most eventful in recent history, Jess hadn’t told her best friend anything. Anyone who had spent any time on the lake knew about tensions between the Sways and...basically everyone, but especially Selina’s mother and her relatives. And more than that, it had been kind of nice to have a good secret all to herself for a little while. But she missed her friend, and would have loved her advice on what to do about the boy who was quickly becoming someone important, and a problem for her heart.

She was just thinking about the other girl, wondering if she should call her after work, maybe suggest a bonfire or late night rowboat race like they used to have, when Selina burst through the door. Jess’s eyes fell to the blood first, and then rose quickly to Selina’s face and the expression that didn’t match the apparent situation at all.

A thousand questions raced through her mind as she pointed her best friend toward her bathroom (not that Selina didn’t know where it was by now) and made quick work of closing the shop. She didn’t seem hurt, so everything else could wait. While Selina washed herself clean, Jess dug for any clothes left behind the last time she had come for a visit, and failing that, any old shorts and t-shirt. She left them on top of the dresser and poked her head into the bathroom to gather the discarded bloody garments and throw them into the wash.

Selina was standing in the bedroom, studying herself in the mirror when Jess returned, and for a moment she wondered, again, if her friend was injured.

“Can you believe this was us, what?”

Selina laughed, “These girls. We’re just girls here trying to be grown women. I sort of treated you like I did Sunny.”

She waited for Jess to maybe bristle or tense up at his name. “I marched on to the beach, saw the first girl my age who had SOMETHING in common with me, and declared you mine. We aren't little girls anymore.”

There was a bittersweetness in her voice. Selina didn't even care that she was naked.

Jess laughed. She remembered that day, meeting Selina after escaping her siblings in search of a moment of peace and quiet, far from what actually found her instead. But they had got on so quickly she'd forgotten to be angry about it.

"No, we really aren't," she agreed with a tinge of nostalgic sadness in her own voice.

She leaned back on her hands on the bed, watching her friend study the picture. "I never minded, you know. It was kind of nice to be claimed by somebody. You'll always be my first for that," she bit her lip, hoping the joke didn't come off as uncomfortable given the situation.

Selina finally dressed and sat beside her friend on the bed. Her knuckles caressed the other woman’s cheek before she swept the hair from her face. Without a thought, she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to Jess’s, tongue lingered a bit before she broke away.

“That's from Sunny too.” Selina laid on her side tucked under Jess’s arm. “How is it that I was here for a few weeks, and youuuu have been tramping around Sway Lake with some chick?! Have you gone FULL lesbian?” she dropped her voice low.

Jess turned onto her side, propping a head on her arm to face Selina.

"You two are so weird," she rolled her eyes. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

Her stomach flipped at the thought of Sunny, eyes cast to the ceiling as her thoughts wandered. She loved Ollie, but there was something raw about the idea of losing the other boy, even though he wasn't really hers anymore and hadn't been in quite some time.

She quirked a teasing eyebrow as she returned to the present moment and the woman beside her.

"If I was going to do that, do you think it would be with anyone else than you? Whoever gave you your gossip needs glasses."

Selina’s mouth dropped open, “There's a guy around here with hair that long?!”

She linked her arm through Jess’s and pulled her in for a hug. The other woman now wrapped up in her embrace. Selina let her chin rest on her friend’s head as she stroked her hair. “You feel happier. Content. Like you're just drifting along. I know you loved Sunny in your own way, but this is different. It's the,” she ran a hand up and down Jess’s body without touching it, “this. Papa would call it your aura.”

Jess grinned. "I am. I'm really, really happy," she answered dreamily. "Ollie's a really sweet guy. But only here for the summer…"

She swallowed down the lingering bitter taste her argument with Ollie the previous morning had left in her mouth, not wanting to burden the conversation with her fears. Especially not when she still had so many questions of her own.

"But don't think asking about my love life is going to get you out of explaining yourself, missy." She teased.

Selina sat up, “Oliver Sway?! Jessica! Come on. Any other Tom, Dick or asshole at this stupid lake. Sunny. Sunny’s RIGHT THERE. Just grab him by the ankle and bring him back to Earth. He needs you.”

She took a breath, “That.. harpie will tear you apart because you aren't good breeding. It's Sway Lake because that's what those upper crust cunts hold over this entire town. Sway. Lakes dont belong to one family, they should belong to EVERY person. Are Sunny and I the only ones NOT under this family’s curse? First Tom, then Nikolai and now you.”

Selina’s voice was full of disappointment more than anger. She looked at her hands. Her palms, white and clean, were just caked brownish red not even an hour ago. “It can't be the both of us.”

"Nikolai?!" Jess asked, staring for a moment before doubling over in laughter. "Oh god it all makes sense now."

She struggled to contain her laughter, gasping for air and wiping away the tears in her eyes from it.

"Fuck Charlotte Sway, I couldn't care less what she thinks," she said, sobering and then sighing. "It's not like I planned on falling in love with Ollie. But I did, and it kinda scares me. I really really don't want to lose him. And he hates her and the whole legacy bullshit as much as anyone. Let it all rot or burn or whatever."

Jess was silent for a moment. It was hard to say Selina was her only or even oldest friend. But they were best friends, for certain, and they knew everything about each other. There were even times when they were younger that Selina and Sunny had talked about soulmates and Jess had wondered if she were hers. Which is why her stomach twisted with guilt as she realized just how unsettled Selina was, and pretending not to be.

"But enough about me, it doesn't matter. Are you okay?"

Selina took Jess’s hand in hers. She laced their fingers together and laid down again. This time she and her friend were side by side. She was certain no one in any spoken language had invented a word for what the two of them were.

Selina knew it was why Leon and Johnny always ended phone calls and visits with long hugs and I love yous. Why Honey and Klaus showered each other with intimacy and affection Honey showed Leon. Friendships that made people question your sexual intentions. It was probably something in the Kostas skin, like a pheromone.

The 23 year old pushed the thought out of her mind that everyone around them was their friend because they didn't have a choice. Instead she squeezed Jess’s hand.

“You know Honey, she holds grudges with a tight grip. There's only two people she hates: Charlotte Sway and Reginald Hargreeves, and he's the one she really wants dead. Charlie is lonely and miserable. That's punishment enough for Mama. Papa always says she would make a great Mafia don. She DID like Tim Sway;

cried when he killed himself. He wasn't even Charlot-” Selina cut herself off. “Either way Ollie must take after him then. I hope he does. I think we played together when we were little?”

She realized she was avoiding the question and wanted to deflect solely on Jess. Sunny wasn't the only one who slept around up here, or had a weird effect. Selina again panicked if maybe, somehow, what was in him was in her. That the Russian on a canoe in the middle of the night would show up in the Village, screaming at her in the dead of night. Some of the guys she fucked flopped around on top of Selina for a few minutes, got off while she stared at the ceiling. Then they laid claim to her like any White guy who thought he owned someone else’s land.

“And don't laugh like that either! I was doing my duty as a future nurse and helping someone who got hurt.”

She watched Jess cross her arms, even on her back. She was giving Selina THAT stare. Selina threw her hands up. “Ohhh,” she whined, ”I was swimming, floating really. Probably out further than I should be in the middle of the night, but that fucking moon. And there he was on his way to get rid of those horrendous jet skis of Jimmy’s. And he was flirtatious and made me groan, but also laugh?”

Selina had pulled her knees up to her chest so she could hug them. A far off look on her face. “And he's very.. I didn't really pay attention to what he looked like. WHO, right? It was just this fire that went through me. Like I knew him?

“Mama always talks about the day I was born and speaking into existence this notion. That every version of her will be loved by and love Papa. She thought it was blood loss creating insanity, but Sunny and I had designs on a love like theirs.”

“And the way Nikolai made me feel, and the way he knew my body? We didn't even fuck; not like that. I haven't cum that hard or much ever. Even by myself.”

“Then he got hurt, and I made Sunny take me to him. Ollie had saved him, right? As we're stitching him back together, I see his face. That face I grew up with three times over. He's fashioned for me, Jess. Maybe like Ollie is for you. But Nikolai is Leon and Nicklaus and Klaus and he's made to be mine.”

"No, no I'm not laughing at that, or you," Jess promised. "Just...the first decent conversation Nikolai and I had, he mentioned meeting someone. Matching his description to you is what's funny. And the fact that you two are such opposites." Jess paused, smiling in fondness for both parties in question. "But it's safe to say he likes you, a lot."

She felt silly now, not putting it together sooner. After all, there was no one else in the world she could think more aptly described as a siren made of the moon. And as funny as it was on paper, something about Selina and Nikolai made sense.

And, it made her heart beat giddily. Her faith in fate was complicated, but when it came to the Kostases, the concept was shockingly simple. And it seemed impossible that this was just coincidence, the four of them tied together like this.

'Or maybe,' she silently scolded, 'it's wishful thinking so you can tell yourself you're not being completely crazy.'

The rest of what Selina said registered belatedly and she blanched. "Wait. That was a lot of blood. Are you saying that it was all Nikolai's?"

“It was,” Selina replied softly.

"Jesus. What did he do, get in a knife fight?" Her voice was a mixture of concern and annoyance.

She could see Nikolai doing something like that, to defend his own pride which he deflected onto Ollie, or for some other stubborn, idiotic thing. And now that there were two people she loved who would get hurt if something happened to him, she made a note to have a little chat with him about being so reckless. And to find Ollie later to check on both boys.

"I know if he had you helping take care of him, I don't have to ask if he'll be alright." She nudged Selina teasingly with a shoulder, hoping to break up some of the heavy, contemplative air settling over them both.

“Knives don't cause QUITE as much damage as you think. Unless you hit a vein. Diego showed me how to do it effectively once. Plus if he's like the others, Nikolai probably prefers fists to weapons. Or the spider monkey sleeper-hold thing Klaus and Sunny do. Although Papa stabbed Uncle Jonny once, it was just an artificial wound.”

Selina suddenly scooped Jess up in her arms so they could go back to a cuddle. She tangled her legs and arms around Jess to sort of dominate her personal space. Her forehead pressed into her friend’s neck.

“He and Jimmy got into it, and they were on the boat dock. Nik slipped and hit his head. Ollie swam for like, the first time ever to get him up into a boat. Had pressure on it. I just stitched him with fishing wire. They'll do better at the ER.”

Selina sighed, “If he's like them he wouldn't die anyways. Klaus died like twice in a few days, also head injuries? Either way, Nikolai would’ve been fine without me.”

Then almost like an afterthought, “Did you say he talked to you about me? Probably something about conquests and the Russian army. But you! YOU FELL IN LOVE this summer! I got my pussy licked and think he's this mythical soulmate. You're in actual, real love.”

Selina propped up on her elbow, “Have you slept together? No I'm sorry, YOU get to call it MAKING LOVE!!” she burst into a fit of giggles around cheeks fired by jealousy. “I am happy for you. I promise. I'm glad Sunny.. I'm just happy.”

"No, actually," Jess said, shifting around Selina so they tucked together more cleanly, like two matched puzzle pieces. This kind of closeness wasn't Jess's favorite thing, but Selina knew that, and Jess trusted that if she didn't need it, she wouldn't be initiating it. "It was surprisingly non-militant. And only one nautical reference."

Jess hesitated, remembering some of the incidents Selina had to deal with and one or two more from the summers that Sunny, or Jess herself, had headed off before they got far enough to be a concern (or for Selina to even know). She wanted her friend to know just what Nikolai had said, and that he very much did not just see her as just some conquest. But the line between sweet and creepy was a hazy one at best. She brought one hand away from the tangle to fret the corner of her thumb between her teeth while she thought it over.

"I'm not saying I'm jealous...but I thought it was romantic. And dramatic of course, look who we're talking about. But dramatic isn't always bad. I wish you'd stop dismissing yourself like that. Soulmate or no, you have some sort of feelings for him which seem serious; one might call it a crush at least. And he made you feel good. He made you happy. You're allowed that. You deserve it. And now, for the moment if not more, you have it, savor it."

"As for Ollie and me..."

She froze, frowning as she struggled to figure out just what to say. There was a part of her that feared a reputation of some kind (even though it was just Ollie that she'd been a first time for, and Sunny, but he didn't count). And another part that wanted to keep it to herself, even though most of her wanted to share. She bit again at her thumb, searching for words.

"It's not that big of a deal?"

Selina bit her lip before a yawn escaped her. “One: a crush is a crush because you can get hurt. Otherwise, it would be called a cushion. I think that's what Papa said once. Or was it Klaus?”

Selina closed her eyes now. “Either way, it's a very big deal! I can feel the difference in you. I want you to be in love. To maybe leave Sway Lake. Come back to the city with me? Close up this place for a few months. You can live with me. Or Oliver for a little while. Oh lovely little Oliver making my sweet Jessica come ‘round again. All your sadness and little pieces everywhere. I couldn't stitch you back together with fishing wire, could I? I shouldn't have let Sunny break your heart. I just didn't want being around me to remind you of him. I'm sorry. But Ollie.. he’ll.. Sorry, I think I'm a bit delirious from adrenaline? Mind if I nap a bit?”

But Selina was fast asleep before Jess could give permission.

Jess shook her head with a smile, carefully extricating herself and tucking her friend into the bed. Selina had given her a lot to think about.

#hopefully this formatting worked #it was not at first #author collaboration #Jess O'Neill and Selina Kostas #Moonbrella Lake Crossover #The Song of Sway Lake fic

20 notes · View notes

void-galaxy-shenanigans · 3 years ago

Text

Hi hey hello, I have something ¿that might be unpopular to say? but it’s important.

The “Therapist Friend™” is (almost always) emotionally neglected and/or emotionally abused (& likely abused in other ways too).

I mean the one who’s always helping everyone else, handing out advice like free candy, rushing to help people who get even a little upset....but they don’t ask for help, & if you offer “hey, what’s wrong?”, they either (1) go “I’m fine, nothing’s wrong, why would you think anything’s wrong, don’t worry about me haha” (*cough* the underlying thoughts: ‘please don’t take this moment of vulnerability & use it to hurt me or abuse me or use me in some way’, ‘please don’t ask, it’s unsafe to be vulnerable, I always get hurt if I admit I’m not okay’, ‘it could be worse’, &/or ‘please don’t waste your time/energy worrying over me, I don’t wanna burden you, I’m insignificant/worthless anyway’ (all thoughts we’ve actually had)), (2) they decide to trust you & dumb so much heavy sh!t at once you can’t process it (‘I tried to k!ll myself an hour ago, my sister is sick, my mom be*t me this morning, I didn’t sleep last night’), &/or (3) they tell you but laugh it off/diminish it (psst, so you won’t or it hurts less if you do) (‘mom made me take care of my sibling instead of hanging out with my friends and I didn’t sleep last night and my dad told me to k!ll myself in an argument but haha I’m sure he didn’t mean that and we all say things we don’t mean when we’re angry ¿right?, and my parents are super busy anyway and yea I basically raise my sibling but all older siblings do that ¿right? and I’m fine’). Those ones.

I’m saying this because I was one of them, since I was five years old and the first adult told me their husband was abusive and I tried to tell them to “please get away, that’s not good”. I got praised for being “mature enough to handle” this, but in reality it made me emotionally repressed and confused and I felt like if I couldn’t help someone (who likely had a problem I had no business trying to solve at that age) then I was a worthless/useless burden & had no right being alive.

Also, the “Parent Friend™”, your Mom Friend™ or Dad Friend™ or enby parent friend? Yea they were also probably abused &/or neglected.

They were at least parentified (made to be their parents’ &/or siblings’ parent from a young age), & while they may appear to be “a natural” at this, it means someone forced them to be a caretaker & nurturing, mature adult //long// before they should’ve been. When they should’ve been learning to be a person, they were taught to be an “Adult™”/Mature™ doormat for anyone who needed a parental figure, including their (adult) parents. (Some of us heal from this & maintain being a parent friend in a healthy way, but it still likely stems from childhood.)

What are the consequences of this? I didn’t know how to make a decision for myself, at least not healthily. I was always focused on how everyone else will be affected by my choices, & how ’if that choice in any way harms another person or prioritizes myself then I’m a monster who deserves to d!e’. ‘If I don’t make sure everyone around me is safe, even if I can’t relax for a second, then I’m useless.’ It again prioritizes other people and leaves me unable to take care of myself. I constantly neglected self care & I’m very slowly struggling through trying to teach myself how self care even works & how it’s not evil to take care of my own body & mind first so I have a cup to pour from in the first place.

& lastly, the “Happy Friend™”. The one who’s //always// down for anything, full of energy, ready to go, smiling, “no no no, you decide!”, & seems like nothing is wrong.

I don’t mean that there aren’t excitable ADHDers (I’m one of those) who are fine. I don’t mean the people who smile easily. I mean the one who doesn’t stop, who gets hit & smiles at you a second later, who laughs it off when someone does that “x has a crush on you! kidding haha” (y’know, implied it’s gross & embarrassing to find you pretty/handsome), who is //never// bothered even when alone with you. The one who never, ever shows they’re not okay.

Everyone thinks this kid is Mature™, Carefree™. I even got hit with “I don’t know how you’re so bubbly all the time” & “you’re just never brought down by anything! 🙂” as if that was a compliment.

But the reality is, that kid gets punished for not seeming happy. They learned it’s only gonna lead to abuse to seem not okay, or even d*ath. Because they get called ungrateful and stupid and evil and all kinds of nasty things for not faking it, they learn to fake it.

So pay attention. Please.

I was drowning (/met). I was terrified. I was using fawn response to not d!e.

Don’t assume those kids are okay. It’s not just those crying for help, it’s also the ones who hide it when they’re dy!ng.

~Nico

#trauma #childhood trauma #abuse #child abuse #tw abuse #neglect #child neglect #silent suffering #~Nico

13 notes · View notes

ja0-s-blank-canvas-fic · 3 years ago

Text

Part 2 - Chapter 51 - An Ounce Of Prevention Is Worth A Pound Of Cure

Blank Canvas Part 2

AO3 - here

Fanfiction.net - here

Heyo! It's update time! Let's find out what Aizawa wants to discuss with Izuku. ^___^ Nothing bad relatively speaking but it does have to deal with a punishment of sorts. You'll see. :P

Oh, as a heads up, I think we might be really close to the end of part 2. Like within the next couple of chapters because I figured out a really good stopping point that just fits so perfectly with this part and all the themes surrounding it. Just wanted to let you know so there's no freaking out like last time. :P But yeah, part 2 will be drawing to a close soon and part 3 will being. How many parts will this AU be, who freaking knows? I certainly don't. We'll just have to wait and see!

Now let's get to the chapter!

Linktree to all the things!

End notes for the chapter are under the line.

See? The punishment isn't so bad. Izuku just has to stand in front of 39 students and a couple of teachers and talk to them about Vigilantism and it's consequences. Easy peasy, right? Thanks goes out to Audrey, Neptuna, Rijus_Hope, gac102, pumabox, TheSilentOak, and Suyumi for helping me figure Izuku's punishment for hiding his relationship with Stain and then pointing him towards Endeavor. :)

Now with this presentation I would very much appreciate ideas for said presentation. Such as laws and consequences of breaking them. Even fun things regarding the history of vigilantes or even examples of known vigilantes. Like maybe an OC someone made could be fun. I dunno. I'm still thinking about what I want to do with that exactly. :P But any and all ideas are welcome as always!

There is a plan to get Shouto away from Endeavor though I won't say what exactly yet. But I do plan to have getting Shouto somewhere safe happening separate to Endeavor getting a healthy dose of karma. As in their not going to be at the same time if that makes sense. But I'll leave you to ponder that on your own. ;P

More progress on Izuku having a dual hero identity! Sh-sh-shout out to Rubyred21 who had suggested Admin as Izuku's potential underground name super long ago. It was somewhere in part 1 I believe. I liked the idea a lot but as I was fleshing this plot point more, I thought the use of Hiro instead was a better choice. It was good suggestion though! So thank you!

There's gonna be a new suit change coming up in the future! :D If anyone has ideas or advice on what to look at for reference or what kind of technology that would involve, please let me know. I do have some ideas in mind but never hurts to brainstorm together! Also I do know that there were some concerns when it came to the scarf. Really I wasn't intending for it to be a permanent feature. Just a temporary homage to Stain before the scarf gets carefully tucked away.

By the way, the pencil costume is canon in this AU. It was referenced back in chapter 14 of part 2 while they were doing Hero names. :P In case you forgot.

Aizawa now knows that Izuku knows about them taking Hitoshi in. Not really surprising that he does but at least now he officially knows. Cause then that could open up the possibilities of potential sleepovers. But really only with Izuku though. I don't see Aizawa allowing Mei and her chaos into their home. And maybe not Shouto either but more just because I think his conspiratorial mind would explode. But anyway, he knows.

Fun Facts About Japan:

So Izuku's presentation detention was partially inspired by the peeps on the discord, but also from an experience I had in Japan. They are very dedicated when it comes to learning English as a second language. So much so they start learning it in elementary school and up through high school and potentially college. They also have associations that focus on practicing English and promoting international relations. For my city we had the Yachiyo International Association (YIA) that put together events and meet ups like flower watching (hanami) or tea ceremonies.

And another kind of event that may have also been in conjunction with city hall and the board of education was a lecture in English. It could be about anything as long as it was in English. I got roped into giving one and basically ranted about the benefits of art education. I hate talking in front of a lot of people but did it anyway and have it as a memory now. It also reminded me of all the times I had to give a short speech in front of all the students when starting at or leaving a school. Just so many eyes on you...it's so nerve-wracking. :P

That's all for now! Hitoshi doesn't want to go home quite yet. What does he want to do with Izuku? We'll find out next time! ^_____^ Hope you enjoyed the chapter and have a great rest of your day. See ya!

#mha #bnha #quirkless au #fanfic #blankcanvasfic #blankcanvasconvictions #midoriya izuku #aizawa shouta #yagi toshinori #shinsou hitoshi #hatsume mei #pro hero power #maijima higari #pro hero power loader

3 notes · View notes

pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

Text

ἀλήθεια (Chapter 5, Vοσταλγία AU)

ἀλήθεια Masterlist

Pairing: Freydis/Reader, Ivar/Reader (past)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: The usual. My endless swooning over Freydis.

A/N: So yeah, I have two chapters of Alatheia done, because this one and Chapter 6 were one and the same until I decided to split them. Should I post the other one tomorrow, or wait a week? Idk, I’ll see lol. Hope you like this!

“Sparta.” You say with a whisper, and Freydis walks forward, standing next to you on the ship, overlooking the same city that rises in the horizon.

“Your father’s homeland, isn’t it?”

“Where my cousin is king,” You confirm, before turning your head to the side, looking back out of the corner of your eye, “Where Galla’s love awaits.”

“Oh, save it.” Galla grumbles from her place a few feet back.

“You did promise him your hand in marriage when the Fates brought you back together.”

“You promised a Viking to love him and yet here we are,” Galla retorts, more bite than Freydis had expected. Your expression tightens, a strange blend between the anger Freydis is familiar with -enthralled with, in awe of-, and the cold cruelty that has made kings falter. Galla doesn’t, instead pressing, more softly, “Women like us don’t keep promises well.”

“I keep my promises.”

And Freydis knows that tone, she knows it well.

Never before had she seen your might directed to her like this, and though she stands tall and strong -not the Gods themselves will make her waver-, Freydis finds something like awe growing inside her at the sight. Your voice is the snarl protecting what is hers as you promise, “You told me the night we met that you’d once escaped death by placing the right words in the right ears. Be careful not to find death by attempting something similar.”

“Just not when it comes to your heart?” Galla tries, baited breath as you consider her, as you debate between stubbornly holding on to anger or accepting the attempt at lightheartedness.

Eventually, your lips curve into a smile. It is dim, Freydis cannot help but notice that.

“Exactly. It seems we are after all very alike, you and I, hm?”

____

Sparta proves to be yet another wonder, of stone buildings and beautiful statues, of lively streets and warm skies. It proves to be familiar too, in the shouts of warriors training on the edges of the city, in the chatter and laughter of a city bustling with life.

After being introduced to Lysander, a tall man of broad shoulders and a grave face that is only accentuated by his missing eye, but of warm smiles and eyes like yours; Freydis allows herself to be lost in this city.

The people may look at her often, may whisper, may linger; but she doesn’t mind any longer. And, in moment of weakness, or maybe of bravery, she approaches some of them, with questions about the food they share with her and the animals they try to sell her.

When she retires for bed that night, the sight of you lingering close by to her door is a surprising one, but not unwelcome.

Her heart does a strange thing in her chest when she meets your gaze, when she takes you in, dressed in a soft green dress so unlike anything she has seen before, the smell of lavender once again sweetening the very air around her.

Freydis says nothing, but invites you in with a gesture of her head. You both sit on the low settee by the hearth, and with your eyes on the flames you take a deep breath that she isn’t sure if it is cleansing or bracing you.

“That night, the...the last night, I…” You stop yourself, lift your gaze to her even if your face is still turned to your hands. Voice low, you instead say, “You never asked me how…how I survived.”

“All that matters is you did,” She tells you without hesitation, but based on the sigh you let out as your head drops, that is exactly what you were expecting. Though she feels slighted at the way you seem to imply wanting to survive above anything else is somehow wrong, she will admit she admires the resilience of still believing the purpose of life is anything other than survival. “It is true.”

Silence reigns between you, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you gaze away into the nothingness. She doesn’t like that gesture, it is too alike you biting your tongue, and she dreads the day you do.

So, Freydis calls your name. Softly, quietly.

You take a moment, gathering your thoughts before you utter them.

“After Narses…after what I did to him, I promised myself that I would never-…” Your words end up choked, and you frown through a deep breath, trying to find your center again, “That I would never lie again, not about something like that; not about love.

Your smile is bitter, and the way your hands threaten to curl into fists tell her what you sacrificed that night, more than words ever could.

More than him, more than the life he gave you, more than the world you had known; you had to give up a part of you, if not the whole of you. Freydis understands that, understands what it is like to shed pieces of you like a snake its skin to try and survive, and she understands what it is like to look at a reflection and see a monster under a pretty face looking back.

“All I have known is to fight against anyone that tries taking something from me. My…my freedom, anything. It feels like I’ve been fighting ever since I first returned to Eleusis from the Silk Roads. Fighting Narses, fighting Stithulf, fighting…fighting Ivar,” You lick your lips, looking at the nothingness ahead when you continue, “That night, I wanted to fight him. I fought him, I yelled and cursed and…and I did it knowing that each word, each…each moment just got me closer to…”

“Death?”

You shrug, “No one survives leaving Ivar the Boneless.”

You haven’t said his name in such a long time. But even now, that isn’t his name you are saying, not really.

“You did.”

“I…I did. Because I thought of you.”

Her heart does a strange thing in her chest, a blend of dread -how could you be so stupid to follow her advice when the only reason Ivar hadn’t killed her was the fear of your wrath- and something else -something that feels like warmth, like pride, like thrill- filling her hollow chest.

“What?”

“That night, I…at the tip of my tongue was the promise that I was leaving him, were the words about how one way or another I wouldn’t be at his side anymore. I can be cruel sometimes, I know. And…I was cruel then, and for all the pain he had caused me I wanted to inflict the same, I wanted…I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to tell him,” You look at her, seeking something that Freydis isn’t sure you can find in her gaze. A breath, and you whisper, “He would have killed me,” You repeat, and though she knows it is true, she has a feeling you are reassuring yourself of it to hold back whatever guilt you carry. “And I remembered what you told me, about h-how surviving is what is most important, about how…whatever men like Ivar the Boneless need you to be, you become.

Your lip trembles, and the look in your eyes tells her that you are somewhere she cannot reach, trapped in a world that you left behind but that has never left you.

You are holding your hands together on your lap, squeezing your own hands so tight she almost expects to hear the bones breaking. Still, you continue. You have to.

“So I t-told him I could forget a-and forgive. It was a lie. I told him I loved him even then. That wasn’t a lie, but…it felt like one. I told him that I didn’t want to…to fight anymore, but I was…uh, s-staying. With him.

Your breath hitches, and your eyes are squeezed shut, as if you can keep memories at bay by refusing to see.

“He fell asleep, but I…I sometimes wonder if he knew I was lying, and just pretended. He had to have known,” Once again it sounds like you are trying to convince yourself, and this time she cannot give any certainty that what you say is true. He might have been, but she doubts he would have let you leave if he had known. Very alike, Ivar and her, and she knows she wouldn’t. You shrug your shoulders, almost defeated, “I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. While he slept, I fetched one of the thralls. Her name was Thyra, and sh-she looked a lot like me. I killed her with the knife he gifted me, and went to find you and Valdís to say goodbye.

If she is honest, she has tried not thinking about that night much. She has tried to forget the look in your face, the look she dreads ever seen again.

Because that day you were dead, or maybe death. She isn’t sure there is much of a difference, not when it comes to you.

“I lied to him, Freydis,” You confess, a dying breath on your lips. There’s tears shining in your eyes, but stubbornness keeps them at back, and you only raise your chin, gritting your teeth. You take a deep breath, gaze intently focused on the nothingness ahead, and muse aloud, “You know, as time passed I…I started telling myself that I wasn’t that much of a monster for what I did to Narses. I don’t think I can do that anymore.”

The words leave her lips in an instant, “You are not a monster.”

“I have betrayed and lied to everyone that has loved me,” You sentence, a rebuttal even if it sounds like a confession. “Because…I told myself Narses didn’t love me, but he did. He did, and I led him to his death. A-And maybe it was a different kind of love, the wrong kind maybe, but…Ivar loved me. He loved me, and I looked him in the eye and promised to love him too, even when I had already planned to leave him.”

“And you are responsible for what they feel for you?” Freydis pushes, meeting your wide gaze with her determined one. “If they chose to love you, that is their-…”

“Mistake?”

“Responsibility. You didn’t have to love them back, you didn’t have to be anything other than yourself, not because they loved you. That…that is not how it works.”

You search her gaze, so unbearably lost that she cannot help but reach for your hand, if only to keep you tethered, if only to keep you with her, if only to tell the ghosts that if they want you they will have to take her with you.

“How does it work, then?” You ask, a sad, helpless little smile curving your lips.

Freydis offers truth, truth that has been for too long her most precious secret.

“I don’t know.”

“Then how do you know I am not a monster for what I did? To Ivar, to Narses?” You insist, not waiting for an answer as your eyes fall shut, your breath leaving you in a shaky exhale. After a heartbeat, “I loved him,” You tell her, making cold run through her veins. But it isn’t the same kind of coldness that shines in your eyes. Your expression trembles, and Freydis pretends not to see the tears in your eyes, or hear the wobble in your voice, “I loved him, Freydis. And yet I…betrayed him.”

She knows where your thoughts are going. Hers went to the same place, many times before.

“I betrayed you,” She tells you, a confession in itself, even before she finds her resolve and with the same certainty, the same fearlessness, that she looked at death in the eye with; she offers her heart, “I love you, and I betrayed you.”

She has said it many times, but there is something different this time, something to do with comparing her love for you with your love for Ivar, something to do with the way she holds your hand in hers, something to do with the way her eyes search yours.

The smallest of hitches in your breath, but she notices. Of course she does, it seems her very heart stops its beat so she doesn’t miss an instant of your response.

“Freydis…”

“If you are a monster, then so am I.”

It isn’t an argument, it isn’t a whisper that maybe what you did wasn’t cruel, it isn’t a reassurance that you are not monstrous in your own way.

No. It is a promise.

If you are a monster, then she is one as well.

Wherever your Gods or mine take you, I shall be at your side.

But if you listen to her words, you do not give it away, your gaze still wide and lips still parted as you look at her, a blend of awe and something else, something more fragile, something more precious.

“I love you.” You breathe, tremulous smile curving your lips. Three words, and you steal her of breath, you steal her of her heart.

Except you cannot steal what was so freely given. And what a dangerous thing that is, is it not?

But it isn’t fear what courses through her veins, no.

A breath, or two, or a thousand, she has no way of knowing. All she knows is that it feels like she is smiling, like the joy and helpless hope that bubbles inside her chest is curving at her lips, and she knows your eyes -mesmerizing, endless eyes- are trained on the sight, and she knows you lean closer.

And she knows that to kiss you feels like a spring storm.

From the thrill that runs through her like lightning at the barest of touches of your lips on hers, a hesitant brush of your mouth against hers before one of you, she couldn’t for the life of her care who, finds the courage to press closer, more firmly; to the rush of her heart in her ears that reminds her of the unrelenting downpour of a storm, and the delicate touch of your hand on the side of her face that makes her think of witnessing the downpour from the safety of shelter.

As much as you are willing to give you are willing to demand, and Freydis is no different. Your lips part as her mouth moves over yours, open and soft, and there’s a wretched little sound leaving her lips as your tongue slips gently into her own mouth.

In between sharp breaths that still feel like too little, unwilling to part you press a few soft pecks against her smiling lips, before trailing to the corner of her mouth, where the too-many-times unsaid I love you lay waiting for you to claim it.

Brow pressed against hers, noses touching and eyes vibrant as they gaze into hers, Freydis still can only think of the breathtaking feeling of a spring storm to describe what it feels like, this moment.

You bite down on your trembling lip, before a sigh of her name leaves your lips.

She chose it, that name, and every day since she has demanded to be called by that name, too long having been at the mercy of whatever anyone else wanted to call her. It has never sounded so right before.

Still, because she knows you, she knows you like she knows herself, in between broken pieces and contradicting thoughts; Freydis nods her head.

“I know,” She tells you, licking her lip, a remnant of that spring storm still on them. “You also love him.”

“I want my heart to be my own, before I give it away,” You tell her, quiet. Your hand is still at the side of her face, and she soaks up that warmth before it slowly, almost reluctantly, falls down and settles on your own lap. “I love you, Freydis, but I…”

She shakes her head with a smile, though she closes her eyes.

It doesn’t sting of rejection, this isn’t the pain of something lost, but it is still pain, she won’t lie. It is a particular kind of pain, the kind of pain of being on a ship and having it approach a place dearly missed, the kind of pain of knowing on the land the ship so surely approaches there lies everything she ever wanted.

“I am with you,” She interrupts. When she opens her eyes, she finds the vibrant gaze of yours searching her expression, looking for a certainty she hopes you find. “Wherever the Gods take you, remember? I will be here when you have a heart to give, if you choose to give it.”

____ ____ ____

Me writing the Reader with characteristics (story-wise) of a goddess both in Nostalgia and Alatheia is a topic for another time, but as Alatheia comes to an end (and Freydis’ PoVs of Nostalgia are at an end too) I have to rant about this: when the Reader prays to Persephone in Chapter 13, and at the lack of an answer (that she can understand) breaks and prays to Freyja, she begs the goddess not to leave her alone there; and in the next moment Freydis walks up to her, finds her and tells her she is not alone, and then: “Her hand finds yours, and the simple gesture of comfort is enough to make you feel not so unbearably alone. Based on the sad smile she offers you, you think you are not the only one to feel alone in a realm of cold and shadow.” Now, I’m not saying Freydis is Freyja of course, but...maybe I am, and this is just a contrived way of writing the Freyja/Persephone slash no one wanted. Who knows. Point is, I wanted to bring that up. Useless trivia bit over for now.

Thank you for reading! One more part, and then it’s the epilogue!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside @aprilivar @msrawog

#freydis vikings #freydis x reader #freydis #ἀλήθεια masterlist

15 notes · View notes

sleep-i-ness · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Date? (Maria Hill x reader)

Request: YES (at end of oneshot)

Content Warning: Drinking, mentions of cheating

A/N: Here you go hun! I didn’t really know how to write the reader as a tomboy so sorry if it wasn’t quite what you wanted. Oh and one bit was a tiny bit inspired by Two Weeks Notice (with Hugh Grant and Sandra Bullock) so if you notice that well done? Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @holybatflapexpert @startrekkingaroundasgard @natasha-danvers @a-stressedstudent (if you would like to be added, please fill out the form in my bio)

A loud knock at the door startled Maria out of her administration haze; she sighed, taking in the heap of strewn sheets. Her usually immaculate desktop was barely visible under the mountain of paperwork that had just been piling up endlessly since her day had started. It was already looking like she might have to stay well past her contractually mandated hours just to clear what she already had. The legal team at Stark Industries had been on the phone with her non-stop, demanding evidence or explanations that were either highly confidential, non-existent or possibly even both. Maria was honestly sick to death of having to clean up both the physical and PR messes of the Avengers.

“Come in.” She was unable to muster any energy into her order, hoping to whatever mighty being out there that it was an agent she could actually stand. Or really just any agent other than Agent Mace. He had been needlessly suffocating, bouncing into her office, whenever he so pleased, to ask a question that really only required the most miniscule amount of brainpower to be answered. It was a miracle he had ever been hired.

Y/N poked her head through the door, an easy smile tilting her lips upwards. Maria returned the infectious grin despite herself, a giddy, light sensation spreading through her chest.

“Oh, good, Agent Y/L/N. These are the mission debriefs that you filed, would you mind taking them down to Agent Coulson?” Maria rifled through the stuffed drawer by her leg and passed her a thick brown file.

Y/N grabbed it, their fingertips brushing lightly and Maria jolted slightly as an electric spark shot up her arm. “Sure, I got it.”

“Now, after you’ve dropped them down, you can start with the files for your next-”

Y/N interrupted her, smiling sheepishly, “Actually, I don’t know how much time I have. That’s what I came here to ask you about. Tony sort of set me up on a date with someone tonight.”

Maria’s heart sank, a sickening heavy feeling, and she wasn’t quite sure why. She shook it off, blaming it on a sudden bout of exhaustion and mustered an enthusiastic grin. Scraping the papers on her desk together, she stapled them together with a satisfying click.

“Great.”

Y/N took that as a dismissal as she backed away, towards the door. “I just have to figure out what to wear. I don't have anything.”

Y/N almost giggled and a wave of nausea rolled over Maria as she swallowed harshly. Y/N looked ready to soar with joy, like an entrapped bird in a cage that she held the key to.

“Have fun.” Maria couldn’t help the bitterness seeping into her words and Y/N’s face contorted, startled for a second, before schooling herself into a more composed expression.

What the hell was that. Maria was astounded as Y/N backed out without another word, a placating smile fixed to her cheeks. She attributed her sudden passive-aggressiveness on an envy of being able to leave work without feeling the immense burden of knowing how much else she had to do. But she’d never had this problem before when it came to her work-life balance.

Maybe she was finally feeling the need to get back into a relationship.

Maria groaned as the clock hand hit seven and she hadn’t seemed to have made a dent int the pile. She’d have to work the night on this lot; she was prepping an incredibly time-pressured, high-stakes mission, so they were sending the team out tomorrow. The window had been made known to them only a couple hours ago, at most.

She wondered if Y/N was having a better night than her. A nice dinner out, good conversation and freely flowing wine. Then, dancing in the arms of her pretty date and maybe getting a kiss goodnight.

No. This was unprofessional. Maria shook her head, blinking hurriedly, as she tried to clear her mind of any distracting thoughts.

Work.

Right…

Eliott Callahan, ex-CIA, presumed deceased after a mission went wrong in 2007. Recently resurfaced with links to the Tribe of Salvation, an organisation that had been previously unknown until ties to the Ten Rings had been revealed. Supposedly owned a scientific reserve in North Carolina which was too heavily guarded to not be hiding anything. Callahan had given them a way in, now they needed to take the place out.

Maria’s eyes watered as she stared at the security schematics and the notes made by top SHIELD security specialists. God, she wished she had Y/N here to give her some advice on it. Y/N’s expertise was in getting into places she shouldn’t be, which is how SHIELD had found her. But Y/N was having fun on a nice date with a nice girl and Maria couldn’t help but admitting that it had brightened her day to see Y/N happy.

The last mission, Lima, had taken a toll on everyone’s mental health, and Maria couldn’t help but blame herself for the failure. Four of their top agents had been taken out and the others, who had barely survived, had still not passed their psych evals. Today had been the first time Y/N had been visibly giddy or enthusiastic about anything since then.

“Hi.”

Maria scooted her chair to face the door; head buried in a document as she muttered the lines to herself as she read. Lifting her head slowly, she blinked owlishly at the figure in the door.

“Y/N?”

Y/N hovered in the doorway, still wearing a very flattering suit that Maria couldn’t help but admire. She offered Maria a small but weary smile, shifting from foot to foot.

“Come in, take a seat, how was it?” Maria wasn’t sure if she were acting enthusiastic enough to believably be realistically overjoyed for Y/N having been on a date, but she was sure she could instead pass as being worn out.

Y/N slumped into the hard-plastic chair, which rolled backwards due to her momentum. Unlacing her shoes, she yanked them off and massaged the soles of her feet. She stretched out her stocking-covered legs, gently rubbing circles into the back of her ankles and calves.

“It was horrendous,” Y/N groaned, tilting her head back in exasperation. “I mean, does Tony know me at all? Coulson made me babysit him for 3 years, he should know me better than to set me up with someone like that.”

“Like that?”

“Oh, God, she was about 20 minutes late and didn’t get off her phone the entire time. When she finally made some conversation, it was all about her ex-boyfriends. Like, not even ex-girlfriends. And she was always texting at the table. How rude is that!” Y/N’s cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes were glazed as she yawned, delicately raising a hand to cover a mouth while she stretched out like a cat. Y/N smiled sleepily at Maria as she curled into the uncomfortable chair.

Maria returned the smile softly, somewhat reassured by Y/N’s vehement complaints. “Sounds awful. No second date then?”

“God no, I’d rather be reassigned to… to the Arctic!” Y/N threw her hands up dramatically, the seat wobbling beneath her.

“That can be arranged.”

Y/N was unimpressed by Maria’s dry tone, bottom lip jutting out as she folded her arms sulkily.

A sudden thought popped into her mind. She brightened abruptly, sitting up again. “As if you’d do that. You wouldn’t survive without me.”

“You wish.” Y/N was cute while tipsy, Maria mused, before jolting at the thought. No, she was her supervisor, she could not be thinking like that.

“So, tell me.” Y/N’s chin was slipping off her hand as she yawned, elbow firmly planted on the desk. “I’ve told you how shit my date was, what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?”

Maria paused as she took a mental step back from all the work thoughts accumulating at the back of her head. “Well, back in high school, it wasn’t really a date. At least, I hadn’t thought it was because I’d just come out. To everyone. And I went out for lunch with a friend, a guy named Tyler and he ended up telling me that he could turn me straight again. He also decided to show me the numerous photos of his penis. He had a whole folder on his phone in different lightings and from different angles.”

Y/N had clapped a hand over her mouth, “That’s horrendous, I don’t think I could ever look at someone the same if they did that. Like unsolicited and all that.”

“Yeah, definitely was the final nail in putting me off men.”

Y/N giggled, a pretty sound that Maria couldn’t help but want to hear more of.

“So,” she began, pursing her lips as she tried to think of how to continue.

“So?” Maria laughed

“Yeah, so, tell me. Is there anyone in your life? Anyone special?”

Maria snorted. “No, God no. I haven’t had the time in all honesty; I’m barely on top of my work, never mind sorting out a love life at the same time.”

“I thought… I thought that you were dating Agent Hayes?”

“No, we broke up a while ago over… mutual difference involving work and personal lives becoming too heavily involved.”

“Okay… so that’s what you wrote on the official forms about your break-up. Now, tell me again with feelings. Come on, let’s have a proper deep chat.”

“Hm.” Maria glanced back at the document she’d discarded back onto the pile and groaned. There was clearly a better option of the two. “Fine. I’m sure you are aware of Agent Hayes’ reputation.” Y/N frowned and shook her head. “As a… honey trap. It seems that she was unable to remove that part of her life from our personal lives and decided to… practice on other agents and people in our lives.”

Maria spoke bitterly, expression twisted in a grimace like she had tasted something extremely sour.

“So, basically she’s a cheating bitch.”

“Yeah.” Maria nodded. That summarised her perfectly.

“Well, fuck her, we don’t need shitty women in our lives. Am I right or am I right?” Y/N’s voice rose as she declared her statement triumphantly, sending Maria a quick grin as she pumped a fist in the air.

“Yes, you’re right.” Maria was tentative, unsure whether she wanted to ask the words on the tip of her tongue. “Anyone else in your life?”

“Well,” Y/N took a deep breath, working up the courage to do something momentous. “I did like someone, but I thought they were dating someone, so I let Tony set me up on an absolutely awful blind date.” Her voice lowered to more of a murmur. “But now I found out that the woman I like is single.”

Maria blinked. Could she-? No. Well, there was no point in not trying. “What if the woman liked you back?”

“I’d probably ask if I could kiss her.” Y/N glanced at Maria’s lips, the glaze in her eyes no longer from alcohol.

“I think she’d say yes. She’d be pretty dumb not to.”

Y/N leant in, and Maria’s breath caught in her throat. She had to be dreaming. Their lips met and every thought flew out of her head as she melted into the kiss. Maria pulled away, laughing at Y/N’s pout.

“Wait. Come here.” Maria patted her lap and Y/N eagerly straddled her legs, one hand cupping her chin, the other on the back of her head. “That’s better.”

She kissed her again, an awestruck expression appearing on Y/N’s face as she grinned blissfully. Maria could smell the sweet scent of Y/N’s perfume invading her senses, everything blurring as her mind focused in on the way Y/N seemed to fit perfectly in her arms. Or the hand gripping the hair at the base of her neck as Y/N kept her head in place, the other caressing her cheek.

As they broke apart again, Y/N stayed on Maria’s lap, wrapping her arms around her neck.

“I have to finish this work, but you’re welcome to stay and help. It’ll go twice as quickly.”

Y/N pecked her lips. “Deal.”

Request: Maria hill x female, tomboy, reader where Maria hears that tony set the reader up on a date with some girl he knew. Maria can’t stop thinking about it and ends up staying up through the night until r dare is over. Reader comes back after the date and they talk and reader makes fun of how bad the date was. (aren’t in relationship but get together after talking)

#maria hill #maria hill x reader #maria hill x you #commander hill #agent hill #agent #shield #avengers #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel imagine #agent coulson #x reader

131 notes · View notes

fanaticfangirl001 · 4 years ago

Text

Like Real People Do:Ch 7 For The Longest Time

Taglist: @p3nny4urth0ught5, @kissofvenom922, @loudbandittreemaker

Author's note: Staypuft is a ghostbusters reference and the title is a reference to the Billy Joel song not the old song that Steve and Peggy dance to. (Both have the same name)

“We have to go after John.” Winnie wipes her eyes.

“I know.” Bucky nods.

“Just to talk.” Sam reminds the two.

___________________________________________________________

Winnie, Sam, and Bucky peer into the warehouse that they followed John into.

John on his knees with the stained shield in front of him. Head down.

“Time to go to work.” John says softly to himself before walking over to the three.

“Walker.”

“You guys should see a medic, you don’t look too good.”

“Have you looked in a mirror?” Winnie scoffs.

Sam ignores Winnie and continues “ Stop,Walker.”

“What?” John starts pacing.

“John, you should get some help.” Winnie tries again.

“You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.” Bucky adds. “ Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.”

“I’m not like you.”

“No you’re not. You're your own person. And asking you to be more than that wasn’t right. Let us help.” Winnie stands closer to Bucky.

“Listen it was the heat of the battle, Okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“John?”

“You gotta give me the shield, man.” Sam says.

“Oh, so that’s what this is?” John says in realization. “You almost got me.”

“You made a mistake.”

“You don’t want to do this.” John looks between the three.

Winnie’s hand goes to her holster.

“Yeah we do.” Bucky adds.

Bucky, Sam, and John run at each other starting the fight. John kicks Sam off of him, while Bucky and John are equally matched.

“Shit.” Winnie hides behind a pillar. “ This is great, I mean what’s more fun than pissed off super soldier.”

She looks out and sees John’s back to her, standing over Sam ripping off his wings, while Bucky is down. Winnie aims for the center of John’s back.

John raises his shield. Winnie unloads the pistol into John’s back. Six shots, six bullets enlodged in John’s back. He turns around and stalks over to Winnie.

“You!”

“Nice to see you, too, John.”

“You shot me. “

“Yeah I did. Like Sam said earlier you don’t have to hurt anyone else.One last chance.”

“One last chance or what.” John grabs Winnie’s arm and twists it. She drops the empty gun.

“First Ow, second let’s think about this, what do you think will happen if you hurt me?”

“Let’s find out.” John yanks her arm the other way, breaking it and then throws her off to the side. She hits her head on the floor and blacks out.

Bucky tackles John and punches him, Sam rejoins the fight and together they grab the shield and break John’s arm.

Bucky drops the shield near Sam and kneels down by Winnie. He checks her neck for a pulse, her head for any bleeding.

“How is sh…” Sam starts to ask.

“She’ll be okay, I got her.” Bucky picks her up. “You’ve got bigger things to think about.”

___________________________________________________________

“The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli, but so far they’ve only found her followers.” Sam informs Bucky and Winnie. “They’ve searched this camp, and just like the last camp nothing. She’s gone, we’ll never find her.”

“Well, we can’t just sit around.” Winnie adjusts her sling, trying not to jostle the broken arm.

“No, that’s exactly what you should be doing.” Bucky helps her with the sling.

“Nope. I’ve been with you this far. “Winnie smiles at him.

Bucky sighs and walks off.

“Are you off to take care of Zemo?” Sam asks.

“Hey Gadget!” Joaquin hugs her.

“You remembered.” Winnie hugs him carefully avoiding her left arm.

“Course,” Joaquin moves closer to her and whispers “ How’s operation boyfriend coming.”

“I don’t even know, at this point.”

“Are you coming?” Bucky asks, waiting at the door.

“Yeah.” Winnie yells back.”Any way it was nice seeing you.” She walks over to Bucky.

“Here.” Bucky hands her a train ticket.

“Thanks.” Winnie puts it in her pocket and the two start onto the train station.

_________________________________________________________

They sit on a bench waiting for the train to the Sokovia memorial.

“That was stupid, what you did.” Bucky breaks the silence.

“I had a clear shot at John, I wasn’t going to shoot Sam.”

“It was a perfect shot, I meant putting yourself in danger. You were safe by the pillar.”

“I’ve been in danger this whole time and you weren’t weird about it.”

“Well now I’m weird about it.” Bucky shrugs.

“But why do you get weird about it?” Winnie asks.

“Because I’d rather you not die.” Bucky answers bluntly.

“I feel the same about you. I’d rather you not die, but you do the dangerous thing all the time.”

“Trust me, you don’t feel the same way about me.”

“Ditto.”

“Shhh, follow me.” Bucky whispers to Winnie as they walk closer to the Sokovian memorial.

Zemo stands in front of the memorial peacefully,staring at the statue. The last traces of his wife, children, his people.

“I thought you two would be here sooner.” He says softly looking over at Winnie’s arm.” A bit of trouble with the super soldier.”

“Uh yeah, he broke it .” Winnie answers.

“Don’t worry, Winifred, I’ve decided not to kill your boyfriend.”

“Good.”

“Imagine my relief.” Bucky says clicking his gun.

“The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned Sam but he didn’t listen to me. He’s as stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. But you...They literally programmed you to kill. James do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere,and there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.”

“I appreciate the advice. But we’re gonna do it our own way.”

“Yeah. I was afraid you would say that.”

The gun clicks again. Bucky raises the gun and aims it at Zemo’s face.

Zemo gives the slightest nod.

The gun is empty, Bucky drops the bullets.

The Wakandan soldiers surround him.

“Ladies.” Zemo says.

“I took the name of crossing off my name in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought had to do.Goodbye James.” Zemo looks towards Winnie and says “ I hope you’re very happy with him.”

“We will take him to the raft, where he will live out his days.” Ayo informs Bucky.

_________________________________________________________

On the commercial airplane back to the United States, Bucky gently nudges Winnie.

“What?” Winnie whispers, as the people around them are asleep.

“Back with Zemo.” Bucky starts.

“Yeah.”

“He said for you not to worry that he wasn’t going to kill me.”

“Yeah.”

“He called me your boyfriend.”

“Again yes.”

“You didn’t correct him.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.”

“Do you want that?”

“Want what?”

“A boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I’d love one, Buck but unfortunately Build A Boyfriend doesn’t exist.”

“Easy, ask Joaquin out.”

“No.”

“Sam’s a little busy.”

“I also don’t think I’m his type.”

“Right, have you tried online dating, it’s overwhelming and everyone lies but..”

“You’re not really selling it besides I have my eye on someone, but I don’t think he’s interested.” Winnie leans her head back to go to sleep.

“Well, he’s an idiot and blind.”

“Yeah, yeah he is.” Winnie falls back asleep.

Once out of the airport, Bucky and Winnie sit in a small hole in the wall diner.

“So what now?” Bucky asks.

“Lay low, do something for yourself, it’s now the government’s problem, but Joaquin said he’d keep us in the loop for updates.”

The waitress walks over, handing out the menus.

“ What can I get you?”

“Do you have malts?” Bucky asks.

“Yes: Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, and caramel.”

“Can we get two malts and a side of fries?” Winnie says to the waitress.

“Sure what flavor?” The waitress starts writing down the order.

“Strawberry for me.” Winnie answers looking at Bucky.

“Chocolate.”

“Aw, this is so cute, minus the broken arm, darlin’. More young people today need to go on little dates in the middle of the week.” The waitress says walking the order to the kitchen.

“So that guy that you have your eye on, have you talked to him since leaving with me and Sam?” Bucky asks. “Cause if you want to skip out to see him, it’s fine. I can get your malt to go.”

“Yeah I’ve talked to him.” Winnie shrugs as the malts and fries arrive at the table.

“And, he must be worried about you.” Bucky unwraps the straw for his malt.

“Yeah he is.” Winnie puts her straw in. “ But he said he’s okay.”

“Good, so what’s he like?” Bucky sips his malt.

“Very caring, protective, smart. Also very attractive.”

“Protective, does that mean he’s gonna start shit, since you’re here with me.”

“No, he’s like one of those fancy chocolates, hard on the outside but a marshmallow on the inside.”

“Good, where did you meet him?”

“Message boards.” Winnie answers trying to give Bucky a hint, that it’s him, who she has her eye on.

“That’s a strange way to meet people.”

“It’s how we met.”

“Yeah but you’re a hacker, and I’m a nutjob.”

“True.” Winnie trails off then adds,” Do you think Sam is okay?”

“Yeah, he probably went home.”

“Well remember in the club with Selby, his sister called and told him about the boat.”

“Yeah nearly got us killed.”

“Well you used to work on a boat, and I like tinkering with parts. We can help.”

“You have a broken arm and should be resting.”

“I’d rather help Sam.”

“Fine, but how are we going to find out where he lives.

“Give me five minuets.” Winnie grabs her laptop out of her backpack. She logs onto Facebook.

The two finish the shakes by the time Winnie has found an address for the wharf where the Wilson’s boat is and the address for the house.

_____________________________________________________________

“Roadtrip!” Winnie yells as Bucky jingles the keys of a rental car.

“I regret this immediately.”

“Oh come on, I have the best road trip playlist.” Winnie plugs in her phone. “I made a new one especially for you.”

The car is filled with big band music and jazz.

Twenty one hours later, Bucky and Winnie walk out of the car.

“We can walk from here.” Bucky says noticing a lot of people loading a truck. He runs over and helps them with it.

“You helpin with the Wilson’s boat?” An older man asks Bucky.

“Yeah, where is Sam?”

“We’re goin that way.” The older man says.

Bucky waves Winnie over and the two riding in the back of the truck.

“Tommy, Carlos this is amazing. Thank so much man. “

“Hey when the Wilson family needs us, we have a bit of usefulness in us.”

“How do we get it off the truck?”

Bucky picks up the engine and helps Winnie off the truck bed.

“Hi Sam.” Winnie waves.

“You’re welcome.” Bucky adds.” Dropping this off.” He puts the case on the boat. “I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”

A pipes starts hissing and letting out steam.

“Sam!” A woman yells.

“My guess is Sarah.” Winnie adds as Bucky

“Hi.” Bucky greets Sarah and goes to help Sam with the pipe.

“Hi.” Sarah waves at Bucky then looks towards Winnie.

“Are you Sarah?” Winnie asks.

“Yes, why?” Sarah asks.

“For starters, I’m Winnie, a friend of Sam and Bucky’s. Second you should probably scrub your Facebook or just delete it. You have a lot of sensitive information on the internet.”

“Sam told me about you. Do you want to sit or something? You really shouldn’t be out here with a broken arm.” Sarah offers.

“Sure, “Winnie sits then says “ Just so you know Sam isn’t going to kill a banker. He just said that so he could look tough in front of Selby.”

“Who’s Selby?”

“Well she doesn’t really matter now, she’s dead. We were in Madripoor.”

“Madripoor?”

“Yeah it’s like a criminal's heaven. But don’t worry about your brother, he’s with a good group.”

“Sam told me what you did...to John.”

“Yeah shooting someone in the back isn’t really honorable but…”

“You saved his life. John was going to kill him.”

“Yeah.” Winnie shrugs and rubs her shoulder.

“You ever need anything, call us.” Sarah says.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?”

“Well I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m right handed. So this is the boat, huh.”

“This is it.”

“It’s nice. Want any help?”

_____________________________________________________________

“I swear, Winnie, this is going to help.” Sarah says walking over to the guys.

“I look ridiculous.”

“You look hot. Daisy Dukes are a classic for a reason.”

“I look like a sexy picnic table.” Winnie tugs at the gingham shirt.

“Maybe he’s into that, besides you’re you. You could wear a garbage bag and still have Bucky’s attention. I’m off to work.”

Winnie continues to the boat.

“Need some help boy?” Winnie asks.

Bucky and Sam both look up to see Winnie leaning against a post, wearing the shortest Daisy Dukes and a yellow and white gingham top tied into a crop top, leaving little to the imagination of what lies beneath it.

“Yeah.” Sam calls out helping Winnie onto the boat.

“Sarah let me borrow a few things.” Winnie sits on a box.

“I can see that.” Sam laughs. “ When in rome.”

Bucky is sanding boards.

“Think she's gonna throw in the towel.”

“I think she’s gonna double down.”

“Anything from Joaquin?” Winnie asks.

“No.”

“Any idea how to stop her?”

“I got Joaquin working on something.”

“Well Zemo says there’s only one way.”

“And since when do we take advice from him.”

“Well gotta drive back tomorrow.” Bucky takes a sip of his beer. “Get a hotel room for the night. Crash, you know.”

“It’s been nice being on the water.” Winnie adds looking off to the horizon. She takes down her bun and shakes out her auburn hair.

Bucky discreetly looks over at Winnie, the sun washing over her, he’s never seen her so relaxed.

“You’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.”

“It’s okay, Sam.”

“Winnie, you literally saved my life, you two are staying. The people here are the most welcoming people.

_____________________________________________________________

“Push the stopper.”

“Oh, in there.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep.”

“So, since we’re benched for a while any progress on the love life stuff with Winnie?” Sam asks.

Bucky looks up towards where Winnie is and sighs “ No and it’s too late.”

“Damn man, so what’s his name?”

“She didn’t say, but he’s the whole package.”

“Tough.”

“But an idiot. Winnie doesn’t think the guy feels the same way back. I mean who wouldn’t want to date her.”

“Buck. “Sam starts laughing.

“It’s not funny, Winnie’s great, and any guy that doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

“Buck, you’re the guy that Winnie is after.”

“No I’m not. She described him as caring, protective, smart. She said he’s like a fancy chocolate with a hard outside but is a marshmallow on the inside.”

“You’ve been all those things around her.”

“I’m not a marshmallow.”

“Good luck with your girl, Mr. Staypuft”

____________________________________________________________

“Excuse me, no!”

“There should be a three-sixeteenths bolt that goes in the big gear.”

“Hi Sarah.” Winnie waves wearing a pink number with the Daisy Dukes.

“Nope.”

“Uh-huh. No.No.”

“You didn’t even look.”

“I didn’t have to.”

“No Sam listen to Buck. He used to work on boats, but back then it was just wind and sails.” Winnie laughs with Sam.

“I told you the water pump was not the problem and yet here you are.” Sarah tells Bucky and Sam, “ I also need to borrow Winnie for a second.”

“Yep Samuel.”

“In our defense we were suppose to be done long before you woke up.”

“Sure thing.” Winnie walks away with Sarah.

“So how are things going with Bucky.” She asks.

“Little more the same, the shorts and sexy picnic table look isn’t doing much.”

“You sure about that.” Sarah asks.

“Yeah, have you noticed something different?”

“Since I pulled you away he’s been staring at your ass and legs.”

“What’s wrong with my legs?”

“Do you normally wear long pants around him?”

“Tactical overalls.”

“Interesting.” Sarah says.” What to help with an experiment.”

“Okay.” Winnie nods.

Sarah drops her tape measure. “Could you pick that up for me?”

“You are the least subtle person I’ve ever seen.” Sam says watching Bucky check out Winnie.

“Technically Sarah’s fault. She gave her the shorts.”

“Like a teenager, at least look away before she or Sarah catches you.”

“Not gonna happen, I’ve done this before.”

“Sure.” Winnie bends down and picks up the tape measure.

“Thank you so..” Sarah fumbles with the tape measure and drops it again.

“Okay butter fingers.” Winnie bends down and grabs it again before placing it in Sarah’s hands and closing them.

The second time Winnie bends down to grab the measuring tape Sarah moves to the side and makes direct eye contact with Bucky before smiling.

“Shit.”

Sam starts laughing. “Serves you right.”

“Is the experiment over?” Winnie asks.

“Yeah, the results are conclusive. Bucky likes you.”

“How did you get those results?”

“He keeps checking you out whenever you aren’t looking. Which seems to be a lot because you like the water.”

“First time on a boat. There’s a lot to look at.”

“Yeah there is.” Sarah laughs looking Winnie up and down.

With Sarah at work and the kids at school. Sam and Bucky have the front yard to practice throwing the shield. Winnie watches from the front porch, drawing in her sketchbook.

“Feels weird, picking it up again. The legacy of that shield is complicated, to say the least.”

“When Steve told me what he was planning, I don’t think we understood what it felt like for a Black man to be handed the shield. How could we? I owe you an apology. I’m sorry.” Bucky holds out the shield for Sam.

“Thank you.” Sam takes it.

“Whatever happened with Walker, it wasn’t your fault. I get it. It’s just that shields the closest thing I’ve got left to a family, so when you retired it, it made me feel like I have nothing left.Made me question everything. You, Steve, Me. You know I got his book, and I just figured if it worked for him,then it’d work for me.”

“I understand man. But Steve is gone. And this might be a surprise but it doesn’t matter what Steve thought. You gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are. Let me ask you: You still having those nightmares?”

“All the time. It means I remember.It means a part of me is still there.Which means a part of the Winter Soldier’s still in me.”

“You up for a little tough love.”

Bucky nods.

“You want to climb out of the hell you’re in,do the work.Do it.”

“I’ve been making amends.”

“Nah, you weren’t amending. You were avenging.You were stopping all the wrongdoers you enabled as the Winter Soldier, because you thought it would bring you closure. You go to these people and you say sorry, because you think it will make you feel better, right. But you gotta make them feel better. You gotta go to them and be of service. I’m sure there’s at least one person in that book who needs closure about something, and you’re the only one who can give it to them.”

“Probably a dozen.”

“That’s cool. Start with one.”

“Good talk.”

“You look really good in that light, Sam.” Winnie says showing Sam the drawing of him by the weeping willow. “I also found some lemonade if you guys want any.”

“You guys know Karli won’t quit.”

“Call us when you have a lead, we’ll be there.”

____________________________________________________________

It’s near midnight in the Wilson household and everyone is asleep except Bucky on the couch and Winnie in a guest bedroom. She walks out into the living room where Bucky is and sits on the other couch.

“You can’t sleep either.” Bucky asks.

“No.”

“It’s not a nightmare is it?”

“Nope, it’s my arm and my neck. I hate my sling.”

“You know what helps a broken arm?”

“Helping a friend fix their boat.”

“No, the opposite actually, resting and taking it easy. Which you didn’t do because you’re stubborn, and…” Bucky starts adjusting the sling again making it slightly more comfortable.

“You’re good at this nursing stuff.”

“Yeah I had some practice on a stubborn easily breakable person before he got very unbreakable and big. Does that feel any better on your neck?”

“Yeah.”

“And for the arm, I’ll get some ice. How long has been hurting this badly?” Bucky asks.

“If I was honest you’d hate me.”

“Winnie! You can’t just..not take care of your arm.”

“I want to help you guys. Whether it be boats or super soldiers. Besides why do you even care?”

“Because I love you!”

“You..do…”

“Yeah but you have got your eye on a guy.”

“That’s you. You’re the blind idiot, marshmallow.”

“It's a bit harsh.”

“You called yourself a blind idiot in the diner.”

“I didn’t call myself a marshmallow though.”

“Buck, I’m glad we talk about us but uh my arm still hurts.”

“Come here, I have an idea.” Bucky says holding the ice pack with his vibranium hand.

Winnie sits on the couch next to him.” Now what.”

Bucky carefully wraps and arm around Winnie and picks her up to put her on his lap.

“Buck, really, how is this.”

Bucky holds the ice to her arm with his vibranium hand.

“For starters it won’t get numb. Second, you're very stubborn. The only way you’re going to actually rest and take it easy is if I hold you down to the couch myself.” Bucky grabs the blanket and wraps it around the both of them.

“You’re not wrong. I guess we can try it.” Winnie gets comfortable and uses Bucky’s chest as a pillow.

“It can’t make it any worse.” Bucky mumbles sleepily.

___________________________________________________________

Whoosh, Huh Huh, Whoosh

Bucky looks over at Winnie, still asleep then the kids in the doorway playing with the shield.

“Hey.” Bucky waves

“Put it back.”

“Hurry hurry.”

Winnie stirs until she opens her eyes and nearly jumps when she sees Bucky looking at her.

“What?”

“I forgot we went to bed together. I wasn’t expecting you to be right there.”

“Yeah well we leave today, so I’m expecting an even better playlist for the ride home, and I'm open to that rock stuff.”

“Did you have any nightmares last night?”

“No.”

“Good. I like that for you.”

“Me too, you know we sleep well together.”

“Excuse me.”

“I just mean, your arms broken and you don’t really know how to care for a broken bone, I do, so.”

“Are you asking to move in with me?”

“Temporarily, yes.”

“Sure, let’s hit the road.” Winnie grabs her back and slings it around. “Ow.”

Bucky rolls his eyes taking her backpack from her, “ I’ll carry this, you just make it to the car without any more injuries.”

#Bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes #marvel imagines #bucky barnes x winnie #tfatws

2 notes · View notes

drawbauchery · 5 years ago

Text

Search, Rescue, Pizza

fic by cartoons-tothemoon

It wasn’t like Private was incompetent. He was a genuinely good agent, and as capable as anyone really expected a “new” recruit to be. There were even times where he was able to get the best of everybody else just because of his own understanding of their expectations of him and the skill he had when it came to reading his compatriots.

However, skill, experience, expectations didn’t determine how far removed from danger anyone could really be. If Skipper could be captured, even if it was during some off days, what does that say about the safety of everyone else?

Not the best of things to say the least.

———

Skipper didn’t know when Private was taken, but it had to be some time between walking home from a mission that left them overall in high spirits, and arriving at home only to realize something was off. Skipper generally lead the charge anyhow, and had been planning a movie night to celebrate the successful mission, but as he jammed his needlessly large bag of miscellaneous tools into the closet, he watched as Kowalski followed him to go to his lab for a quick five minute touch-up, and Rico walking as casually as he could so he didn’t look so whipped to Julien despite everyone knowing otherwise, but no Private.

Skipper peered through the doorway and glanced around their hall. Nothing. Nobody.

Maybe he got stuck talking to Marlene in the lobby? He was the one who delivered rent to her every month, he might just be getting a stern talking to right now, but it was nowhere near the end of the month just yet, and it’s not as if any noise complaints were reasonable at this point given that they practically had the floor to themselves.

“Hey, Rico. Private was behind you, right?” He asked, trying to sound casual, catching Rico seconds away from bolting to Julien’s room.

He shrugged. “Sh-should’ve been.”

“Should’ve been? Was he?”

“I d-don’t know, I w-wasn’t real-really thinking about it.” Rico sounded slightly a bit more terse at this, but he could tell that there was something about Skipper that seemed just a little off. Skipper wasn’t an inherently anxious person, but he was rather paranoid, and those two aspects tended to be a thin line to walk across. His bravado and confidence usually lead to him being perceived as more paranoid than anything else, but the tightrope he walked seemed to sway in the anxiety direction just then as Skipper began to tug at his lip, a nervous habit he must’ve picked up from SOMEONE, but Rico didn’t know who, though it did explain why Skipper seemed to be always sporting a split and bloody lip from a “recent scuffle,” something that seemed to make Private dote on him more than usual.

“L-Look,” Rico sighed. “He pr-probably got s-sidetrack-ked on the walk ho-home. He p-probably s-saw one of those dre-dresses or horse d-dolls that he l-liked and stop-stopped by a sh-shop. Sim-simple as that. Wouldn’t be the f-first time” On some level, Rico thought that statement was a lie, a reasonable lie, but still a lie nonetheless. However, the statement calmed Skipper down somewhat, worrying or speculating about where Private was, wherever he may be, didn’t find him. If he calmed down and remained rational, or at least, rational for him, he’d be able to plan from there, and find where he might be.

The question at this point was more to see if Skipper would take the bait for it and understand the hidden meaning. It’s not like Skipper looked to Rico for emotional guidance, and communicating with him was always far more difficult than someone as direct and open as Julien.

It seemed as if he did, at least, as he blinked once or twice and pulled his hand away from his mouth, opening and closing his fist a few times before digging through his pockets muttering, “he better have charged his phone this time around…”

Rico watched as Skipper nervously navigated his phone to contact Private, the only reason he did so was due to the fact he wasn’t sure if he was dismissed yet, and the last thing he really wanted to do was leave Skipper unstable like this as well as alone at a time like this.

Skipper pressed a button to put the phone on speaker, and listened as it rang.

RING….RING….RING…

Skipper felt his hand shake with minor violent tremors as he waited in anticipation. On some level, he knew it was stupid to be this worried. Rico was probably right. Hell, maybe Private even stopped by the theatre for some popcorn, you know, the authentic stuff for their movie night, and they were all going to have a good laugh about this as Skipper worried over nothing, before he’d make them run wind sprints and-

“Hello, you have reached the mailbox of the cutest cadet in your little cavalry. I’m afraid he can’t answer the phone at the moment, as he’s a little tied up at the moment, but please feel free to give me your message at the beep. I’m sure he would LOVE hearing it…

…BEEP.”

———

Savio was a unique sort of force to be dealing with in the first place, rather distant from the field that the task force played in, as well as being a threat they acquired as a team, rather than somebody’s illustrious past coming back to haunt them.

Which, being honest, was a breath of fresh air for Skipper.

However, it meant a new level of Hell for Private. Maybe it was because of how kind and innocent and unassuming he was back before they knew of Savio’s true cannibalistic, drug dealing, hitmen hiring nature, but he seemed to take a liking to him, and that’s quite honestly the last thing most people would want in the first place. The fact that he’d send him love letters and dead rats made the process all the more creepy, and Skipper knew this.

“D-Did he r-really r-record a v-voicem-mail mes-message in 2020?” Rico murmured. “The excess.” It was a withdrawn way of making light of the situation that they seemed to be stuck in, not in a mean, disrespectful way, just as a way to bring Skipper down from the state that he seemed to be in now, which rendered him as an irritable wreck, the littlest thing could set him off.

Skipper’s knuckles clutched his phone in his hands hard until they turned white, and Skipper eyed Rico. Rico didn’t know what he was looking for, advice? Consultation? Something? Anything? He was the wrong person for all these things and both of them knew it. So he gave him something he could work with. That’s all he could do, really.

“Y-you’ll be f-faster alone.”

That seemed to relax Skipper immensely. His grip loosened, he let out the breath he was holding, and he resolved to grab his coat and headed out the door. He gave a solemn nod to Rico, which was his way of saying, “hey, thanks for that back there,” and Rico returned it with a finger gun that said “no problem.”

It wasn’t very communicative, and it reeked of a weird machismo that didn’t permeate the group dynamic of anyone else in the group, but it was theirs, and it worked.

Skipper slammed the door and could be heard running down the hall, and Rico, a little shaken at the events that had occurred, simply watched the closed door with a blank expression on his face.

Skipper seemed off as of late. More secretive or less, he couldn’t even be certain of that. But, regardless, it wasn’t his place, and he was sure Private could handle it anyhow, so why try?

If Skipper really wanted to talk to him, he would. Not that Rico thought he was one of those people people talked to about things anyhow.

Rico pondered such a thing for a time, but shrugged it off to go see his lovely boyfriend. There was only so much he could really do anyhow, so why stress? Was he worried if Skipper could handle it on his own? Maybe slightly, but it was also Skipper he was talking about. If he was the group’s Swiss army knife, Skipper was something else entirely. Not only capable of wielding the multi-tool, but so many other trades and tricks and hats that Rico was certain he didn’t know them all. That’s fine, he had some skills he hadn’t demonstrated to Skipper either. It’s not like he needed to know anyhow, that applied to him and Skipper. And besides, getting back to the matter at hand, If Julien was taken from him, he’d want to handle matters on his own, too. Nothing wrong with that.

Nothing wrong with keeping it in the family, so to speak.

———

If there was one sort of unsavory character Private loathed outside of your general garden variety thug and the occasional badger, it had to be Savio. If Skipper and Hans gave off the vibes of feuding ex-lovers, Private was sure he and Savio gave off the vibe of a drunk guy flirting with a girl at the bar who’s clearly uninterested. That’s because that’s basically what those two relationships were, especially since Savio had cracked open the wine coolers.

Unlike most of their “visits,” Savio wasn’t so much as present. Private figured he had to be somewhere, but, as far as he knew, three random rough-looking guys had pulled him down an alley, put a bag over his head, tied him up, and were dangling him over a dangerous pit that Private figured was filled with the usual dangerous pit things - spikes, alligators, just being really deep and dark in general - but such items couldn’t be seen in the darkness of the warehouse.

Private figured it was Savio the minute the bag was removed from his head. Savio always picked seedy warehouses for kidnapping, considering he usually owned the companies that held the wares in the first place, so he didn’t have to resort to abandoned factories and the ilk like every other kingpin in the criminal underworld did, but, it’s not like knowing this really helped him. If anything, it reminded him of the dire straits he was in.

Savio was fond of him. It was a creepy sort of fondness that never brought him any sort of comfort, but, that just meant that the warehouse men had no predilections about roughing him up before dangling over the pit, and boy, could he really feel it. Especially in his head, if he wasn’t so aware of the dangers of concussions, he’d be trying less hard to stay awake in the hopes that sleep would dull the pain on its own.

He didn’t know what Savio was looking for, or even if these guys were working for Savio at all. But he wish he did. Ransom, victim, damsel…If he knew his role, it’d be all the better for him to understand what was going on, and his fate.

If only he hadn’t dawdled so much, maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe if he wasn’t just regarded as slow and silly and cute, he wouldn’t have been captured at all. It wasn’t like Skipper or Rico were kidnapped. They were regarded as too dangerous to risk such a thing. Even Kowalski was considered far more capable than he was worth.

And that just left Private.

Poor, sweet, innocent, naive, helpless Private.

If he loosened the ropes around his wrists, he’d fall into the pit. If he fell into the pit, he has no idea what was lurking for him down there, or if the fall would be enough to kill him alone. And it’s not like he could swing to avoid the pit entirely given that the idiot henchmen never removed the bag from his head, honestly, how unprofessional…

Though, given his lack of sight, he was able to focus more on what he could feel, and at the moment, he could feel the tension on the rope getting more taught as something seemed to put a weight on the rope. It made his heart stutter in his chest from the fear of the whole ordeal, but there was no point in making a sound outside of the startled gasp that was muffled by the canvas bag over his head.

He felt whoever was climbing down the rope climb down to his level, based on how they hung on the rope. They wrapped their legs around them, and seemed to have one hand on the rope, and the other…sawing away at the rope that held his tied-up wrists. Private felt the rope becoming looser with each methodical swing of the blade, but it didn’t make him any more certain that he’d be safe. He could still fall, and he had no idea who this really was either. He supposed he HAD to trust them, if only because of what the alternative would mean for him.

He felt the rope loosen at last, and even though he tried to swallow it, he couldn’t help but give out a short scream before the figure had caught his wrist, which alerted the henchmen based on their muttering.

“Well, well, well, looks like we got some unfinished business to tend to.”

“Skipper?”

The figure, now better known as Skipper, swung on the rope with Private in one hand and the rope in the other, landing on the other side on his feet, even if Private didn’t do the same, and seemed to charge forward to fight the henchmen. That’s how Private was able to recall the events anyhow, given that he was only able to get the bag off after Skipper had already had the one of the other henchman in a sleeper choke, and the other was down, leaving only one to go. As soon as the henchman fell to the ground, Skipper was able to avoid a swing from a pipe by moving in close, landing a kick to the stomach, a knee to the groin, and an uppercut to the chin to take the guy out for good.

Skipper shook his knuckles distastefully as he breathed a sigh of relief.

“That’s always a good way to blow off some steam,” he muttered, and turned around to be met with Private running into his arms for a hug, almost knocking him off his feet. There seemed to be something very poetic about the idea that he was able to take down men twice his size in practically an instant, but Private could knock him out, and he’d fall apart. Of course, Skipper wasn’t really a poet, so such a concept kind of eluded him.

After a few moments of holding him close, Skipper pulled back. Private’s injuries were luckily, rather mild. A split lip here, a large bruise on his forehead there, and some tears in his eye. All things rather easily fixed, though, despite this, Private avoided eye contact.

“Let’s get out of here.”

———

On their way home, they got sidetracked. The whole atmosphere seemed to be off since they left the place, with Private refusing to even look at Skipper, though holding on to his shirt with a wrought-iron grip and Skipper feeling the need to fidget in a way that didn’t register as suspicious. Private wasn’t a fan of when Kowalski began picking at his nails as a nervous tic, and worked hard to break him of the habit. He was sure that Private wouldn’t be a fan of something that actually caused him to bleed.

They stopped by a pizzeria. To clean their wounds, to decompress, and to grab a bite, considering that they were both rather certain that Kowalski, Rico, and Julien were probably all asleep on the couch right now, even if they didn’t mention it to the other. Private sat down at a booth and after Skipper ordered two slices of pizza for the two of them and a lemonade for Private, he returned to the table with a small first aid kit to care for their wounds.

Private seemed tired. He seemed distant. This seemed very unlike him. He usually bounced back from kidnappings and similar incidents no problem, but tonight…felt different. Hurt differently. Skipper dabbed at Private’s forehead with more hesitance than he had before. Private sipped his drink.

“Are you alright?” Skipper asked, pulling back.

Private looked at him for the first time that night and nodded slightly.

“Are you sure?” He asked with more hesitance. These were very hard questions for him to ask in the first place, but the last thing he wanted was to neglect Private at a time like this, even if he considered this whole thing to be outside of his wheelhouse.

Private hesitated, but nodded again.

Skipper took a stab at the issues. “Kidnapping gotcha’ down?”

Private mumbled something before slumping onto the table.

“What was that?”

“I’m not worth this!” He said, a little louder than necessary before returning to his position at the table and crying. Skipper jumped at the loud response, but felt his heart go out to Private when he realized what was going on.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not worth ki-kidnapping…I’m not WORTH rescuing…This all happened because I was slow and distracted and, and-“

Skipper carefully lifted his face off the table, in a compassionate move that surprised even him.

“You should be worrying about yourself! Not me!” Private accused. “You look like you got totaled in that fight, your knuckles are bruised, your lip is split, your face is scratched, and it’s all my fault!” Private leaned back and continued to sob into his hands. Skipper brought his finger to his lip in a self-soothing motion. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to do…What would Private do if this was him? Would he ever be in a scenario where this would be him? Would he even be able to face him like that…

Skipper sighed, quietly. He got up from his side of the booth, and moved to Private’s side, where he had himself pressed up against the wall. Skipper bumped his shoulder against Private’s to make his presence known, but that didn’t stop the crying. What could he say to comfort him? That if he wasn’t taken a civilian would be? That would be comparing him to a civilian instead of a fully trained soldier in his own right…he wouldn’t dream of demeaning him like that…he pondered more.

“I saved you because I wanted to,” was what he settled on after an agonizing set of minutes. He stared straight ahead as he said it, not trusting himself to look at Private. This got Private to lower his hands and sniffle, not cry.

Skipper continued on. “If I really thought you weren’t worth it, I wouldn’t have rescued you the first time that this happened. But you are worth it, so I-we do.”

Private wiped his eyes.

“You’re valuable to the team in ways we don’t often acknowledge. You’re people smart, you know what people are thinking when I myself…can be a tad insensitive. You think outside of the box, I can’t think of how many missions were saved because you think so differently from us. You’re artistic. You’re sensitive. You’re compassionate.”

Skipper turned to Private then, seeing him staring at him with big blue eyes so filled with…something for him. “Quite frankly, why wouldn’t I want to save you?”

Private blinked a few times, and Skipper was nervous that he was going to cry again, but he simply rested his head on Skipper’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“Thank you.”

Skipper himself, once he realized the situation he was in, contemplated things. He grabbed a sip of the lemonade, wincing when he remembered the cuts on his lips. He was going to have to get used to that. Private didn’t seem to respond in the slightest to the stinging sensation. He must’ve been tired.

Skipper sighed. What a night. What a town. What a place for them to be.

A few minutes later, some greasy teen who was clearly giving Skipper a look that read something Skipper didn’t understand, or didn’t trust, dropped off two paper plates with some greasy pizza on them, and walked back to the counter.

He was perceived. He was perceived and he was known. He didn’t know what he was perceived or known as, but he was nonetheless. It didn’t matter what they were or who or their situation or anything because this teen clearly had their own their own ideas. Surely, they must. And yet, the world didn’t stop.

The world didn’t end. Sure, the world seemed to be holding its breath, but that was purely because it was dawn. What about the world didn’t seem to be at a standstill at dawn?

Well, if the teen had their own ideas about who they were and who they must be, then was it so wrong for Skipper to allow himself to follow such roles? To conform to the ideals of a single member of the masses just once?

Of course, that was the justification he gave himself in order to allow himself to stroke Private’s head in a soothing, comforting sort of way, after he had long since fallen asleep.

The city that never slept seemed to be allowing them to have their moment, just this once. Skipper never felt more tired, and yet more awake at the same time, as he made a silent vow to make sure that Private never felt that he wasn’t worth saving ever again.

(Gosh, I’m so sorry this took so long! This was supposed to be for Valentine’s day believe it or not. I’m glad I got to show Rico and Skipper being buds, in which their dynamic is like they’re straight dudebros, but also gay which makes them more aware that they’re doing this machismo thing on some level? Like they clearly care, but they also don’t want it to look like they care due to some baggage they have surrounding masculinity or something? I don’t know how to describe it, I think that might be a fun dynamic to play with. Also it’s MY fanfic and I get to project the nervous tics! As well as applying stuff from my Tae Kwon Do class! Also this was supposed to be way less…sad? I dunno. I don’t know much at all.)

(Also! Apparently I’ve written 15,000 words of pining penguins? Wow…So this is my life now, huh? Could be worse.)

#cartoons-tothemoon #fics #pom #i can DRAW AGAIN #the matching pic was either gonna be this private #or rico and skipper being straight masculine bisexual bros #i love the emphasis on their friendship it's so cute #they don't WANT it to be cute but it IS #and you're right like #they have this pure masculine air to their friendship that they can't have with ko and private #they gotta maintain that dudebro-ness while also taking care of their boyfriends #and like what can i say about the rest #thank you for taking my favorite cliche and writing a beautiful thing with it #it's ;A; so romantic #skipper's whole speech and private quietly listening and taking everything in #don't quote me on this but i THINK they've got a crush on each other...?#also where did savio go #i'm gonna need some savio #and more troll voicemails #OH ONE MORE THING: NERVOUS TICS GOOD

93 notes · View notes

kinda-iconic · 5 years ago

Text

So He’s the Captain?

This is just a little Distant Shores Drabble that I wanted to write before the release of tonight’s chapter... it’s nothing special, but I felt like writing it.

Edit: I did like that chapter, but I just feel as though it may have gone differently... if the Navy were after them, then they’d be hot on their heels!

Pairing: Edward x F!MC (Clara)

Tagging: @vanillamaa @bloodboundismylife @elinechoices @octobereighth @adrianadmirer @fallendarkangel693 @chaotic-pixie

Word Count: 1′590 ish

Summary: This takes place right after the events of Chapter 7... it’s not great, but it was worth a shot!

‘You’re a…what?’

Clara remains motionless, staring back at the man before her, her eyes widening with befuddlement. Before she has a chance to speak, he draws her further into the alley; his voice is calming, yet his words have a slight urgency to them.

‘I cannot repeat it,’ he glances around, ensuring that they are alone before continuing, ‘if anyone else finds out who I am, then I am most likely a dead man.’

‘Well, I haven’t killed you yet…and I’ve had plenty of chances to!’

‘Please Clara,’ he chuckles softly, shaking his head in amusement, ‘I may have only known you for no more than an hour or two, but you do not exactly strike me as the killing sort.’

She fixes her gaze on him, her arms slowly folding across her chest as she regards him with curiosity.

‘So, you’re a Lieutenant?’

He responds with a curt nod.

‘You don’t look like you belong in the Navy.’

‘That is because I have been trying to blend in,’ he looks back up at her, tilting his head in intrigue, ‘was it enough to fool you?’

She scoffs, regarding him with a bemused smile.

‘Not in the slightest.’

He shrugs, reaching up to adjust his hat.

‘I thought not; I told the Admiral that I would need to wear something a lot more convincing.’

‘You’ve spoken to the Admiral?’

‘Not as much as I would like, if I am being honest,’ he runs a gentle hand across the sleeve of his shirt, tugging at the hem, ‘though he did make the time to give me some advice as to what would be appropriate for a Pirate to wear.’

‘And he settled on… that?’

He smiles at her in admiration, his voice taking a curious tone.

‘I am guessing that you are not fond of my attire?’

‘Well, it’s not exactly one that I would -’

‘CLARA!’

The pair turn their attention to the east, their eyes settling on a familiar figure as she rushes towards them, her hand clasped tightly around the hilt of her sword. Clara takes a step forward, her expression one of confusion as she sees the panic in her eyes.

‘Charlie? Is everything…’

‘We need to leave,’ she grabs hold of Clara’s arm, tugging her in the direction of the port, ‘most of the crew are onboard already.’

‘Most of the crew…?’ She stops short, glancing back at Oliver, her wariness evident in her eyes, ‘who… who isn’t?’

‘It is just us and Edward,’ she pulls on Clara’s sleeve, forcing her forward, ‘now we really must go!’

‘But why isn’t Edward on board? Shouldn’t he already -’

‘Why do you think?’ She exclaims with suddenness, keeping a watchful eye over her shoulder, ‘he has spent the past twenty minutes looking for you!’

‘Me?’

‘Yes! Now we really must go…’

She leads Clara out into the open, their gazes swiftly darting from the market square to the port, where they catch sight of Edward; he stands amidst a group of travelers, discreetly bowing his head as if to avoid suspicion, but it isn’t long before he catches Clara’s eye. He pushes through the crowd, making his way towards them. Charlie sighs in frustration, addressing Clara through gritted teeth.

‘That man is going to get himself killed if he is not careful.’

‘Can’t you tell him to stay back?’

She scoffs, shaking her head.

‘When Edward sees something he wants, then he does whatever he can to possess it,’ she regards him with a scowl as he presses forward, ‘and in this case it is you, Love.’

‘Edward?’

They turn to look at Oliver, who remains exactly in the spot where he was previously standing; he watches Clara closely, his brows narrowing in recognition as he studies her face.

‘As in Edward Mortemer… the Captain of Poseidon’s Revenge?’

Clara’s eyes begin to widen, the realisation of the severity of this encounter starting to weigh on her. She tries to speak, desperately hoping that she can form a coherent sentence, but before she is able to say anything, a pair of hands settle on her waist, pushing her forward and further down the path.

‘Come ON, Clara!’

Charlie leads her across the street, narrowly avoiding a couple of market vendors as they try desperately to hide their possessions from view. The pair make a run for it, heading in the direction of Edward and the ship; Clara glances back at the alley, as if trying to locate the man she was with moments before, but is met with an empty space, devoid of any persons or sources of light. However, as she turns to refocus on the route that she is travelling, she manages to collide with someone; she loses her balance, but before she has the chance to hit the ground, a pair of strong hands take hold of her upper arms, gently steadying her. Winded and slightly embarrassed, she looks down at her feet, her cheeks turning a shade of crimson. She begins to stutter, her words clumsy and ill-timed.

‘Oh, I… I’m sorry!’

‘There is no need to apologise, Miss Bellamy.’

She looks up at the sound of his voice, his tone and address somewhat familiar; Edward stands before her, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He reaches forward, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

‘Are you quite alright?’ He regards her with curiosity, ‘you seem to be rather out of sorts…’

She chuckles nervously, her breathing frantic and laboured.

‘That tends to happen when the Navy turn up and start wrecking the joint!’

‘Wrecking the…’ he shakes his head in puzzlement, ‘I may not understand what you have just said, but I am guessing it is in reference to our unwanted company and their untoward behaviour when it comes to other people’s property.’

A distant shout can be heard from the tavern, the harrowing sound of heavy boots following shortly after. Clara looks back over her shoulder, her voice laden with guilt and concern.

‘Sh…shouldn’t we go back and help them?’ She turns back to face him, ‘the people in the tavern…’

He shakes his head.

‘They would want us to go.’

‘But what if they’re being hurt?’ She queries, the intonation in her voice rising, ‘I thought that… I thought that you and your crew protected them?’

‘We do,’ Charlie interjects, placing her sword back into its sheath, ‘but how can we protect them if we are imprisoned? How can we provide them with coins or food if we are dead and buried?’

‘But -’

‘Charlie is right, Clara,’ he takes her hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze as his fingers entwine with hers, ‘the best thing that we can do for them now is to leave port.’

‘And leave them defenseless?’

‘Once the British know that we are no longer here, then they will return to their ships and try their best to follow us.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I know the Admiral,’ his stoic expression soon dissipates, swiftly replaced by a mischievous grin, ‘and he is not one to let his spoils get away.’ He hastily glances up at the ship before returning his attention to Clara, his voice firm and somewhat urgent, ‘now we really must be on our way!’

He starts towards the gangway, his grip on her hand tightening as he pulls her along, ensuring that she does not fall behind. Once they are there, he gestures for Charlie to climb aboard before spinning on his heel to face Clara.

‘It may be some time before we leave port,’ he places a gentle hand on the small of her back, ‘I need you to remain in my quarters.’

‘But what about you?’

‘I’ll be alright, Miss Bellamy,’ he flashes her a brazen smile, ‘but my priority is keeping you safe.’

‘From the Admiral?’ She furrows her brows, her voice quiet and full of worry, ‘but you said that he wouldn’t be -’

‘He should not,’ he shakes his head, ‘but one cannot be too careful.’ He reaches towards her, his hand inching close to her cheek, but it is not long before he pulls away, averting her gaze. ‘Now, get on the ship, Miss Bellamy.’

‘But Edward -’

‘That is an order, Clara,’ he retorts with sternness, his eyes blazing with anger and uncertainty, ‘I will not ask you again.’

He forces her further up the gangway, gesturing for Charlie to guide her back onto the ship. At first, Clara is reluctant, but as she turns back, she is met by Edward’s expectant gaze.

‘NOW, Miss Bellamy!’

She does as instructed, turning sharply towards the deck of the ship, but as she draws nearer, the sound of begotten footsteps gets louder, followed by a familiar voice emerging from the shadows.

‘Do NOT let him get away!’

Oliver stands by the end of the dock, pointing in the direction of the Captain; his men advance on Edward, who remains steady on the deck below, his hand clasped tightly around the hilt of his sword. As the men draw closer, he removes his sword from its sheath, adjusting himself into a defensive position. Clara’s gaze drifts between them. She clambers onto the ship, clumsily holding onto the railings as she beckons Edward from above, her voice frantic and shaken.

‘EDWARD!’

The Lieutenant looks to the ship, scanning for the source of the commotion, but as his gaze befalls the owner of the voice, his face begins to pale, the rosiness in his cheeks now non-existent.

‘C...Clara?’

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #choices fanfic #choices ds #distant shores #edward mortemer #edward mortemer x mc #I've been watching too many films about pirates recently

44 notes · View notes

ussjellyfish · 4 years ago

Text

Work-Life Balance pt 1/? | AoS | Philinda | mature

(so uh, write all the fics, because the finale kind of begged for it)

Melinda May has done her best to settle in to her life at the Academy. She has a great apartment, she sees Yo-Yo and Mack as much as she can and Daisy and Ftizsimmons are just a phone call away. Her students are great. Her job is fulfilling.

Except, her apartment's way too quiet and she doesn't have any personal life to speak of and her weekends are empty. She has a plan to fill the void, but then Phil Coulson walks back into her life exactly as she remembers him from Tahiti.

Maybe it is pretty magical after all.

Notes:

Finale fix-it where I tired to give May a happy ending, and Coulson, and another Coulson and another May.

Many thanks to Tina and Nicole for listening to me.

read on Ao3

<hr>

Field Work 103 - you should have a life, even if you're a spy.

Daisy and her team gave him the car keys to a newly upgraded Lola, his wallet, his SHIELD badge and a change of clothes. His former self had a very minimal go bag in the trunk and he'd need more clothes for the rest of the week. He could pick those things up at the new Headquarters, or the Academy and he began a list in his head. Last time he'd been back from the dead he'd had his apartment, just like he'd left it, this time...he had a car.

A really cool car. Maybe too cool. He wasn't entirely sure.

The very new, very nice, Coulson Academy was certain to have a way to requisition supplies, or he could find a store. Stores existed, even if he felt like he hadn't walked into one in years. Well, that wasn't true, he'd gone into little corner stores, the tiny grocery store in Tahiti, which was a far cry from whatever huge monument to consumerism he'd have to enter for some more clothes here.

Walking past his own name was weird, the statue was weirder still but at least it wasn't a painting, and at least it was fairly modern. It didn't really look like him in a way that kept him from behind here. Couldn't really walk around a building with your face on it and be subtle. Was that Melinda's doing? He saw her guidance in the layout, how the buildings were tactically arranged, how the grassy mall was large enough to land the Zephyr- a Zephyr, apparently there were more now.

Daisy and Sousa (Daniel Sousa, the Daniel Sousa who was alive now) had filled him hin with as much as they could but he'd been fine for more than a year and the world had changed without him.

She'd changed. Melinda is a professor now, just like they talked about, training the next generation. He can't think of anyone better, or a better place for her to be after all she's done in the field. She's not going to get hit in the face here and she is the best teacher he knows. It's good, and he's excited for her.

And maybe a little nervous. He just saw her, just held her while he fell asleep, apparently for the last time. Still not the most okay with that, but he's here now and she is and they'll make it work.

He stops at the little cafe and guys a green tea and a coffee because he's still a little nervous and it's easier to meet her with something.

Maybe he's stalling. He doesn't even know where her office is or her classroom and he's not sure if he has access. The other him did, the LMD and they're the same. Sort of. It'll be easier to find Melinda after he has coffee.

"Hi, sorry, you're Professor May's husband, aren't you?"

He blinks. Husband? That's...new. He smiles over the cups as he puts their lids on. "Well, yes, that's right, how'd you know?"

"Your picture's in her office, sir." The cadet smirks a little, holding her books to her chest. "She said you're very busy but you might stop by someday."

"You know how it is, fieldwork."

"I don't know yet, sir.." She tilts her head to the right. "I can walk you to her class, I have it next."

"That would be great, thanks." He follows her through the crowded corridors, moving through the students as if he's just another agent. Maybe a visiting professor. A lost husband.

"What class is it next?"

"It's a fun one, sir. Interdepartmental introductory course, work-life balance for field agents. I'm just a first year cadet, but I heard Professor May insisted on it being added to the curriculum. Is that true?"

It sounds like her,especially after all that's happened, but he has no idea. She's lived two years without him, been through hell, died-- She'd want new recruits to be safe. To look after themselves.

"She worries." He winks because she'd kill him. "But I didn't say that.

"Of course not, sir."

Wincing a little, he rounds the corner past more busy classrooms. Must be passing time. "I'm sort of retired, you don't have to use sir."

"Sorry, sir. Everyone's a sir when you're first year."

"I remember that." Several lifetimes ago.

"Here we go. Her office is over there in the tall building with the big windows, Victoria Hand Hall but we're going to Mockingbird Auditorium."

Phil has to smile at that. Bobbi was disavowed, with Hunter, but May found a way to honor her. He's going to have to get a map of campus and really look around, find all the little touches. "Great."

"Do you want to let her know you're here? She's usually early if we have questions."

"Oh no, that's fine, you need your time for questions, I'll just sit in the back and surprise her at the end."

The cadet grins a little, her dark brown eyes soft with amusement. She reminds him a little of Akela Amador, same enthusiasm. "Nice."

"She loves surprises."

"Maybe from you, sir."

Chuckling, he watches the cadet walk down and join her friends taking out her notebook. The auditorium's filling up and there are more cadets near the front than the back, which he remembers from the classes with the more interesting professors. Of course May's incredible. She has to be, and the view's probably better down there.

May's three minutes early, startling the cadets by coming in a side door. She has her hair up today, which along with the suit makes her exactly what he expects: hottest professor he's ever seen. The room quiets, everyone paying attention as she starts to talk.

She's different, and he assembles a list of little changes as he listens to her explain why it's so important to have a home base, something you can return to. Maybe that's your parents, your sister, your cat-- something that's outside of SHIELD, because you can't let your work be your everything. You have to find your balance.

They ask their questions and she answers them, calmly, with great patience. It's a whole room of Daisy's and junior FitzSimmons' ready to change the world, and they're all enthusiasm, all heart. She's reminding them to stay anchored, to keep something of themselves.

"One last thing before you all disappear to your next class, I know this is difficult. I know you're buried in mock field reports, fitness training, computer training, flight simulator training and languages- it's all right to feel overwhelmed. You're training to save the world, and that's a hell of a thing."

It's good advice, and it wasn't standard when they went to the Academy. New Academy, new ideas. Some of the students crowd the front, surrounding her as class ends. He's a little jealous of them, getting to see her every day and listen to her wisdom. She has so much to give them, and it seems like they appreciate it.

He saw her three days ago and it seems like a millenia. He fell asleep wrapped in her arms and woke up looking at himself. Kind of a downgrade in the view, really. The students ask their questions and move on and eventually it's just Melinda, standing in the pool of light at the bottom of the room. She takes his breath away, always does, and this time it's all her, not his heart dying inside of him.

What does he say? How can he make up for the time she's been alone?

She looks up, shutting her briefcase, and she smiles and it's brighter than the spotlight.

"Well, this is a surprise."

"Brought you some tea, professor."

She circles the table at the front, heading up towards him. "I thought you were leaving--"

"I just got back." He holds out the tea but she doesn't take it. Her hand doesn't move from her side.

"Phil."

"Hi."

"It's you."

"Yeah."

She stops like she's been shot, dropping the briefcase with a muffled thud.

He takes a step closer but maybe that's wrong. Maybe he's too close. Simmons said she had powers, is this it? He completely forgot.

He nearly drops her tea, but manages to set it down on the floor. Holding up his hands in surrender, he smiles a little.

"Sorry."

"It's all right I--"

She doesn't look all right, she's too pale all of a sudden, concerned, her expression's so soft.

"I'm so sorry May."

He touches her shoulder and she gasps, blinking.

"It's really you."

"It's complicated."

"I just saw you, you left you went--"

"To Zephyr Two, with my team. Well, his, team. That's another me."

"The LMD." She nods and her eyes are too bright. He wasn't prepared for her to tear up. Really, he wasn't prepared for any of it. How could he be? How could she? She watched him die. He fell asleep but for her, he died. She lived.

"Sit, please." Melinda's the toughest person he knows but right this moment, she looks so unsteady.

"I'm all right."

He guides her into one of the seats, kneeling beside her. "You're so pale."

"I wasn't expecting you ." She takes a breath, grabbing his hand. "This you. You."

"Next time I'll try to stay dead."

"No."

"I'm kidding."

She takes another breath, touching his face, his cheek. "It's too soon for that."

He covers her hand with his, smiling. "I missed you."

"You missed me? Phil it's been years."

He moves her hand, kissing her palm. "I asked if I could come back earlier, stay with you in Tahiti, but the timeline--"

"Now is fine."

"I'm sorry."

She leans forward, resting her forehead against his with a sigh that aches. "You are so nervous, I could feel you all through class. Thought the poor cadets had an exam, but it was you."

"You felt that?"

"And you. You feel so loudly." She rests her hand on his chest, covering his heart. She takes another breath and it's almost a sob.

Phil focuses on his love. How much he missed her, how much he adored every moment in Tahiti. Melinda gasps, leaning into him, crying.

"I love--"

"I know, it's all I can feel."

He wraps his arms around her, holds her close and time gives them a moment long overdue. Her tea's only lukewarm when she gets to drink it and he downs his coffee, wishing it was something stronger.

He pulls his handkerchief from his pocket and daubs her face. "You're great at this."

"Its exhausting."

"You enjoy it."

"A little."

He starts to kiss her cheek, but she turns into it, finding his mouth and it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. Phil swallows a joke about being hot for teacher. He'll have time for that later.

"I hear this is your last class of the dary."

"It would be now."

He picks up her briefcase and offers his arm. "Let me buy you dinner, we've got a lot to catch up on."

"You have time for that?"

"I'm newly back from the dead, unemployed, living out of my car. I've got all the time in the world."

"You can stay with me."

"I don't want to impose."

"You can't sleep in Lola, you'll ruin the leather." She meets his eyes and there's that little smile. He'd cross oceans and universes for that smile.

"My couch is nice."

#philinda #melinda may #phil coulson #post finale fix it #because we need a bunch of those #fluff and angst and banter #fic: work-life balance

16 notes · View notes

orderofthefanfic · 5 years ago

Text

It’s All Over But The Laughing

Summary: Gotham was a trash heap of destitution and neglect. The rich barely even saw those less wealthy worth enough to step on and any who suffered were helpless. Arthur Fleck was no exception. Suffering from a disorder that left him ostracized from his world, even in the smallest of places, it felt as if no one even saw him. Until he met you. A similar case of loneliness and despair, it was never a case of whether you were seen, but of whether you were heard. Despite your gigs as a cheap singer, the words of your heart were never understood, with a stutter that frightened you from saying your mind and a world that silenced you from showing your truth. The day you met Arthur Fleck was the day your life changed forever.

Pilot

It wasn't completely unusual for people to linger in the halls of the social office, but her face, Arthur hadn't seen before. He slowed his pace, out of curiosity, most of all, and studied the stranger's nervous form. She sat in one of the decrepit chairs in the main hall, left as a makeshift waiting room despite the lack of people who even came to this office, shaking her knee as her hands, clasped tightly, bounced atop it. Her eyes scanned the room frequently, in Arthur’s favor, stopping just short of where he stood to observe, and a sickened look enrobed her aura. With a harsher bounce of her leg, she pushed a breath of air through her pursed lips, flattening her back against the chair and leaning her head back to face the ceiling. He intended to move on from watching her when one of the other psychiatrists in the building made their way towards her. At their approaching footsteps, she shot her head up, an anxious grimace playing on her face.

“(Y?N)? What are you still doing here?” The doctor looked to her watch, furrowing her brow, “Our sessions been over for 20 minutes.”

“Dr. Setler!,” The girl, who Arthur now overheard as (Y/N), began to wring her hands roughly, “I-I don’t...d-didn’t,”

She stopped suddenly, scrunching her nose and huffing a burst of air with a twitch of her head. He thought she was just stammering, her nerves getting to her, but as she continued to speak, he realized she struggled through multiple words, stopping almost entirely in between some, and continuously scrunching her face as she grappled through her sentences.

“I th-thought we had an extended session today and I didn’t get your call it was sh..compressed. I was going to wait until my ride arrived.”

Setler raised her brow, a tight-lipped smile flashed towards the girl that seemed in the least bit forced, “That’s going to be quite some time, yes?”

“Well, yes,” When she finally stuttered out her answer, she spilled out with a slight panic, “I’d rather just wait, I don’t truly want to call.”

Her mouth hung open as if to say more, but the doctor waved dismissively in her face, placing a hand on her back and leading her, quite reluctantly, to the public phone in the foyer, “Nonsense, Remember we talked about practicing with phone calls? You’ll only get better. Waiting here all day is obscene.”

She attempted desperately to disagree, but between her struggles to speak and dismission of Setler, she was unwillingly shoved to the device, and a receiver was thrust into her trembling hand.

With a rough pat on her back, Dr. Setler gave a short wave goodbye and took off down the hall. Arthur was not one to enjoy eavesdropping. He knew, and it was ingrained in him, that it was rude, but even with his consciousness scolding him as he stayed out of suspicion and listened, he was unable to stop. She stood blankly for a few moments before she slowly began to spin in the numbers, swaying on her feet as she unknowingly sealed her fate with each rotation. Although he couldn’t hear the speaker on the other side, he gathered enough.

The conversation looked painful to be involved in, the girl’s already debilitating stutter exemplified over the phone, and the stress that seemed to be gripping her was tightening with every word. In summary, she was behind on her paycheck, thus placing her behind on her already reduced-price medications. The man on the other end, who she’d addressed as her uncle, was audible even from where Arthur stood, although his words were indistinguishable, his distaste was crystal-clear.

“No meds, no roof.”

A persnickety individual, he seemed set on his personal philosophy that if she wasn't on whatever medications she was prescribed, instantly, she wasn't mentally sound or safe to be in his home. The ideal made Arthur sick.

At some point, the girl had half resulted to begging, pushing the phone tightly to her cheek and clenching her fist until her knuckles turned white. Her uncle was highly impatient with her stutter and as the conversation pressed on, she, too, was becoming increasingly frustrated with her inability to converse concisely. Within the limited range of the phone cord, (Y/N) paced and screamed internally. After desperate convincing, she managed to buy herself a day, 24 hours to pack up whatever life she had in her uncle's apartment and leave it behind. Part of her was relieved, the other was still preoccupied with finding a new apartment.

When the death buzz of an empty phone line stung in her ear, she finally gave up on trying to hold whatever was left of her together. Tears sprang to her eyes the second the receiver touched the hook and her palms rubbed her face angrily. Stumbling and shuffling to the seat in the hall, she slumped heavily into the worn and flaking leather. Her face was covered by her hands, muffling her weary cries, and a frown took over Arthur's own expression.

A moment or two passed, the otherwise quiet hall echoing with her sadness, before Arthur finally forced himself to stop creeping on the poor girl and at least do something . And so, Arthur Fleck did what Arthur Fleck wanted to do most: make somebody laugh.

He approached her slowly, his light footfalls rising only slightly above her sobs and cautiously lowered himself into the seat next to her. She stiffened but remained otherwise unchanged. He placed an immense amount of will power into keeping his own self calm, hoping a fit of painful laughter wouldn't rip through him. An awkward second passed, and when he thought about how uncomfortable his silent presence probably felt, the joke he'd been balancing on his tongue jumped out.

"Why are poor people so confused?"

Although she didn't verbalize her acknowledgment of him, he sensed a loosening of her hands as he cries quieted ever so with curiosity. She was unnerved, she wouldn't deny that, but she couldn't ignore what he'd just say out of the mere oddness of the question. Unknowing of its humorous intention, she stayed unmoving and waited.

Whether it was with good or poor judgement, Arthur nudged her shoulder as he delivered the punch line, "Because they don't make any cents."

Nothing. At first, there was absolutely nothing, then what to him sounded like harder sobbing, and then finally, a sound he was all too familiar with (maybe just not from others), laughter. Sad and bitter laughter at first, but soon it morphed into soft but genuine chuckling. Her palms began to rub her face with a pitied groan, her head shaking in self-disbelief and she assertively wiped the fallen tears from underneath her red eyes.

"Th-That's the worst joke I've ever heard," Arthur's heart plummeted, "I love it."

She finally turned to look at him, a weak smile tugging at her lips, and something deep in him glowed.

"Well, I'd hoped you would." He returned the grin, shifting in his seat as she took a few steadier breaths.

It was evident she was apprehensive about speaking, something Arthur understood, although perhaps from a different perspective. Her eyes darted quickly to the brown paper bag in his hand, her ears honing in on the unmistakable sounds of pills, and she seemed almost to relax more at the realization he was a fellow patient at the office.

An awkward silence grew quickly between them but he rubbed his palms on his knees and confided, "I didn't mean to listen in, but I overheard you don't have a ride and you're nervous about taking the subway alone. If you want, I take the subway all the time, I wouldn't mind joining you, if it would make you feel better."

He felt like he may have been rambling, pulling back as he pressed his lips together. She was staring at him silently, a strange look on her features and Arthur began to panic that he may have said the wrong thing. Or maybe he sat the wrong way, or did the wrong thi-

"I'd r-re..verily appreciate that." She tripped out, her head nodding softly as her eyes seemed to gleam. "Seriously, it would mean a lot."

His lips twitched upwards again and he sighed in relief, rising from his seat as he extended his hand towards her.

"My name is Arthur."

Her hand, still trembling, slipped gently into his, contradicting the firm grip and sharp shake she gave him.

Nodding, she flashed her teeth at him genuinely, "(Y/N)."

(A/N): Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I watched this movie opening day and I have not stopped thinking or talking about it since. It was stunning and I just fell in love with the characterization of Arthur. Joaquin did a phenomenal job and everything about the film was beautiful. Also! I have never written a character with a stutter and I, unfortunately, do not personally know anyone who does that I can ask and get advice from. I tried to do research and watch video examples of how a stutter affects someone, the types of stuttering, and what it sounds like, but as someone who does not have a stutter and doesn't see it in person, I may not portray it as well as I'd like. I would love any feedback or advice you can give me on how I do or should depict stuttering and if there are any inaccuracies or over (or under) exaggerations, please let me know! I love to hear your feedback and comments!

#arthur fleck #joker #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck fanfic #joker fanfic #joker x reader #reader insert #joker reader insert #platonic #joker 2019 #fanfiction #writing #dcu #joker dcu #mental illness #mental disorders

238 notes · View notes

doof-doofblog · 5 years ago

Text

“It’s Wrecking Us!”

Tuesday 24th March 2020

Good Evening folks! How has your Tuesday been? I hope you've been able to keep yourself entertained during our time in lock-down! I'm sure you've all been looking forward to EastEnders this evening as much as I have! Shall we get right to it?!

I thought it was a good episode tonight, let's start at the beginning. Sharon clearly had no idea Ian that blackmailed Karen into leaving with Kayden. I was so hoping Karen was going to convince Sharon to reconsider and take Kayden back once she was good and really, however long that may take. I'm curious whether Sharon will wonder why Ian blackmailed her? Maybe that will be a conversation that will happen in the next few episodes? When Karen first mentioned it, you could see the look of confusion on Sharon's face as she peaked through the door. Sharon has so much support around her but it looks as if she really doesn't care anymore, it was sad when she spoke about people not deserving to be parents, it's obvious she was speaking about herself. I found that quite upsetting, it's really sad to hear those words come from her, she did everything she could for Dennis when he was alive, she doted on her son, it's a crying shame she can't feel the same way about Kayden. How will she ever be able to get through Dennis's funeral, I have a horrible feeling that episode is going to be a tough one to watch!

Awwww, does anyone else feel proud of Linda for standing up to Shelley?! I sure as hell do!! It's been a long time coming for her, that's for sure, I'm so happy Linda put her in her place! I know it was just a small part of the soap but it was a moment that really stood out for me! It was lovely to see the old Linda back and sticking up for herself! Even when Mick showed his love for her, it was just so sweet to see! I hope this is the Mick and Linda we'll be seeing again for the foreseeable!

Ooooh also a bit more of flirting between Habiba and Jags! I don't know whether i'm finding it funny or sweet ... possibly both! They are both quite quirky characters, I think they would gel really well as a couple! Will it even get that far? Will it just be a bit of innocent flirting? We know they're due to spend a night together and possible share a kiss, will that lead to a more permanent relationship? What are your opinions on the possible new romance? Do you think Habiba and Jags suit each other? Let me know what you guys take on these two, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Awwww man, does any else feel for Whitney? How is she going to get back some form of normality? I mean, yes, it's good she's finally out of prison and is eating again (Even though she threw it back up) ... but what she said is right, how can she feel safe in her own home after what happened there? I mean, did you guys see the way she jumped out of her skin as the doorbell rang?! This is going to be a long journey for her to overcome, yes Leo is dead and her trail will be in 9 weeks time, but she'll probably feel like she'll be looking over her shoulder all the time? Will she possibly get counselling to help her move forward? I know i'm asking loads of questions, its just the thoughts going through my head. One thing is for sure she has a long way to go to overcome what she has been through. I was happy to finally see her eat something! I was hoping she'd be back eating something when she'd be free from prison ... thing is though, is there a chance she could possibly go back? She's due a trial right, could she still go to prison for murder or manslaughter? Or will the court actually listen and realise it was all self defence?! Ooooo so many questions about this story-line, i'm really looking forward to seeing how EastEnders continue with Whitney's story-line!

Awww gosh, Ballum were sad tonight! Oh, if only Kathy had keep sh-tum about Ben's possibility of cheating on Callum. Did you see the look on Callum's face?! I mean, he didn't but I think the intention was there! But would Ben ever forgive himself if he did? But luckily we don't have to worry about that as he didn't cheat on his boyfriend! But the look on Callum's face was devastating, after all they have been through including the boat crash, you can understand Callum's disappointment and feeling upset. What is it going to take for Ben to actually realise he loves Callum?! To be honest, I think he knows he already does, but perhaps he feels scared to say anything yet? When they were having that argument in the kitchen, you could both see how they were both hurting in different ways. Callum feels that Ben doesn't care that much about him at all, his recent behaviour hasn't been the best recently, but then again, how else is he supposed to react to losing his hearing? It's a difficult one I feel, Callum is doing all he can to support Ben and yet his boyfriend is just lashing out in anger because that's the only way he knows how to react ... he's scared, upset, frustrated ... lashing out is only the way Ben can cope! I think Jack spoke some true words to Ben, will he really take his advice and keep a straight head now?! When they were arguing, Ben was constantly say "I'm sorry!" ... did you see his look of panic when Callum said he couldn't carry on with it all, Ben does not want to lose him! He needs Callum! Ben's hearing loss is another hard story-line to watch and I think EastEnders and Max Bowden are portraying it brilliantly! When Ben broke down crying"I'm sorry!" Callum knew he couldn't walk away, Ben needs him now more than ever. For a moment, I did think Ben was going to shout out those three little words ... we know that moment is coming, and I for one, can't wait to see it when it happens! I can't wait to see the look on Callum's face when Ben says the words he's been longing to hear! Does anyone know when that will happen? After tonight's episode, it's got to be pretty soon right?!

Ahh, so Karen is considering the possibility of leaving with Kayden? I don't really want to see Karen leave, and personally, I don't think she will. If she does come to the decision, I believe something will stop her in her tracks and she'll stay in Walford with her family and bring up baby Kayden into the Taylor household. Can anyone tell me why Keegan looked as if he was the only one who didn't want his Mum to leave? Everyone else seemed understanding, as Bernie put it, baby Kayden is the one who needs looking after right now. We know Keegan is struggling right now, after the way he was treated by police due to the colour of his skin etc, but does anyone feel like he's kinda responsible for Bailey feeling upset? It was Keegan who had words with Mitch about it in the first place, do you think he probably feels guilty for putting those thoughts into Bailey's head that she can't achieve anything?! I think so! (Although I could be wrong). I'm kinda glad Ian told him, basically "Welcome to adulthood!" ... and THANK YOU TIFFANY .... I have been saying this for a while now, I feel the same as Tiffany, I don't get why Keegan is feeling like the colour of his skin is some form of disability! I had no idea that that kind of thing was still happening, if it is, then i'm shocked and I agree it shouldn't be! But she spoke some really true words there, "Every girl has had "The Talk" about what you should wear, where you can and cannot go!" and "Gingers" ... I had no idea society was still like that! I, personally, don't even look twice at a coloured person, because they are just the same as everyone else ... they have two eyes, one nose, two ears, one mouth, two arms and legs and feet just like the rest of us! They still breathe the same way as us, so why should the colour of their skin make them different?! I can kinda understand Keegan's frustration, but i'm glad Tiffany told him some home truths, I hope Keegan will kinda snap out of it now and really start focusing on his future and really trying hard to make something of his life, as he so wants!

What did you make of tonight's episode? Sadly, that's all of EastEnders we'll have this week and we have to wait until next Monday now for the next episode. I hope you are all keeping yourself safe and staying home! Keep yourself clean and try and entertain yourself as much as possible during these hard times! We will get through this together! Hopefully EastEnders will be back on our screens as normal in a few weeks time? We can only hope, right?! Goodnight everyone! Keep safe! Please feel free to message me anytime you like, I'd love to hear your thoughts on anything EastEnders related! Love you all xXx

#eastenders #ballum #keeganbaker #tiffanybutcher #whitneydean #sharonmitchell #lindacarter #benmitchell #callumhighway

7 notes · View notes

heuristicallyinclined · 5 years ago

Text

Nobody Knows

Chapter 2: Ah, here we go again

Part 2/? (Word count: 1,841 | Rated T | Past MSPA Reader x Mallek Adalov, MSPA Reader x Mallek Adalov, Past MSPA Reader x Polypa Goezee, Background DaveKat)

AO3 Links: Part One | Part Two (This) | Part Three

Chapter Summary: MSPA Reader wakes up in an unfamiliar, terrifying place with unfamiliar, terrifying people. But what else is new?

Notes: Thanks for all of the support from the first chapter! I was really blown away by all of it. Enjoy some set-up before the inevitable angst.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

The first thing you notice when you come to is the chittering of machinery. Earth tech hums when it runs, maybe you hear a fan or two. Alternian tech chitters. Sometimes it even makes a soft screeching sound. You prefer not to think too hard about it. The next thing you notice is the headache you have. Your forehead is throbbing and when you open your eyes the room is moving. Damn, you have had your fair share of concussions, but this is new. In your infinite intelligence, you finally realize that this is because you are getting carried like a sack of potatoes over the shoulder of a stranger. Well, fuck.

Slowly and carefully, you crane your head back to get a glimpse of whoever is holding you. You see large horns extending horizontally and curving towards their face. Their uniform having some intricate repeating bronze pattern. Realizing this is an adult, you become very conscious of your breathing. Just extremely slow and even. Oh God. You have never seen this troll before in your life. You continue to glance around and notice you are on some sort of vessel. A door opens and your captor joins another bronze troll. A new stranger, maybe a friend? You stop yourself from introducing yourself so you can hear what they say. Now is not the time to be horny for platonic connections.

“So ! nearly tr!pped over th!s sh!t on my back from do!ng !nventory !n the cargo bay. Do you have any !dea what the fuck th!s !s?” Your captor asks with an excited lit, swinging you off of his shoulder and holding you by the back of the hood. You remain still, motionless, having perfected the art of playing dead to fool drones into not culling you. Not your most dignified skill, but definitely one of your more useful ones. Something thuds as it is set down to your right.

“()h gr()ss, d()n’t t()uch it with y()ur fr()nds.” Your captor chuckles while their colleague sighs in exasperated disgust. Ah yes, you didn’t miss this. Alternia has made you super self-conscious about your body in the weirdest ways just about as much as it has made you fear for your life. But one of those things is temporary. You know you’re cute, friendly, are incredibly resourceful and optimistic. You have nice legs! The clown pope said so! But you can still hear the sneer in her voice, “It pr()bably just wandered ()n b()ard during the last rest()ck and the change in gravity culled it ()r s()mething, I d()n’t kn()w.” She sounds a little pissed now, “Etiv()r just st()p playing with it and dr()p it in with the rest ()f the trash s() y()u can help me get the rest ()f the requisiti()ns delivered.”

Etivor shakes you a bit in front of her. She doesn’t react. “F!ne Yleeda,” he draws her name out and huffs, clearly disappointed, “!’ll be back.” You get thrown back over his shoulder and you can hear a light growl come from him. She apparently does too, and mockingly chitters at him, dropping another box onto her pile. “Wait, what if that thing i-,” she starts, but Etivor isn’t having it and picked up to pace and is already gone. Bold move.

He slows down after a while and walks and as he does you pass by a window. You look for telltale moon colors, but you seem to be in the middle of nowhere with nothing particularly familiar in sight. On a spaceship. Full of adults. Neat. Well, mortal peril is always a solid way of getting out of your head.

He continues onward and you hear other trolls pass by you, all of them caught up in their own work or conversations, none of the spare you two too much of a glace. A door slides open and he sets you on the ground. You hear him step away from you and fiddle with the settings on what you think is the trash, and you'd rather not get immolated today, no thank you. It begins to clunkily whir to life before settling on a scratchy, chittery sound. Luckily, you notice you didn’t hear the door close. You get up slowly, quietly, and slink over to the door, the machine helping to obscure any sounds you were making. You don’t need to be stealthy for too long, just enough to get the door and you can just abs- and he is looking right at you.

You try to match the familiar look of wide-eyed "what in the actual fuck is that" that trolls have often graced you with when meeting you for the first time. His pupil skits widen slightly and his mouth is set in a hard, straight line. You both remain frozen and are locked in a staring contest. You stay like that together for a good ten seconds and you become intimately aware of how long ten seconds in total silence is. He blinks and as he starts to reach for you, you do the only thing you think to do. Blurt out some dumb shit and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.

Were you also getting a pitch vibe off of that or was that just me, because I know you need to be professional, working here and all but I feel like if I wasn’t there you two would definitely have gotten into an argument? Are you two like a thing or have something going on there or…? You wiggle your hands noncommittally.

If you weren't terrified, you would be laughing at the look he is giving you. He immediately pulls his hand back and holds it to himself, aghast. His mouth opens and shuts as he struggles to figure out what to say before settling into a concerned frown. He steps back in confusion with an expression betraying he was clearly not prepared for you to be alive, or sentient, or fluent in Alternian, or immediately asking him about his love life. He is very clearly trying to unpack a lot and you are just trying to put some space between you and someone who easily has two feet on you and a lot of muscle, hopefully gained from things other than hauling aliens into fiery dumpsters.

“Uh. What. ! mean maybe? But ! don't, wa!t th-“

Because I feel like you were definitely trying to piss her off a little bit, like not enough to ruin her night or anything and fuck up her work, but like she'll be thinking about it, so I think that's smart, kinda leaving the ball in her court as you left.

He gives you the smallest, tightest smile as he uncomfortably, slightly nods, locked in place. He looks like he is trying to smile after biting a lemon. This man is deeply fucking uncomfortable which you can deal with much better rather than hostile. You need to keep this shit up. Fuck, WWGD?

What would Gorgor do? You think back to his tricks and techniques that you learned from being his partner. How to maintain control over a situation without dominating it completely or else a highblood could easily feel like you were overstepping and at best, get defensive and shut you down and choose another teal. You don't want to think about the worst case scenario. But you are not Tagora Gorjek and have not been playing four dimensional mental chess with people since hatching. Also death is more of a temporary roadblock at this point, so really, there is no sweep like the sweep you’re fucking in since you couldn’t escape it even if you wanted to.

You already overstepped by making this about quads so you just need to keep talking confidently long enough to fluster him into answering so that you can try to run off. An alien coming back from the dead out of concern for his personal life is probably doing it well enough.

Do you two have like a history from before this or did it start when you got your assignments here?

You are trying to convey an authority you don't fucking have. But as someone once taught you, image is everything and to fake it until you make it. You don't need to have your shit together, god no, but if religiously following a nineteen step east Alternian skin care regimen or parroting back bullshit you've heard like you're a goddamn relationship wizard makes people think you do, then bitch you better roll with it.

"We started working together l!ke a few wipes ago, but k!nda just started talk!ng," he says slowly and unsure, staring at you. You hum knowingly at him and he squints at you, perturbed. You place a hand on your chin and shift your stance to that of one in thoughtful consideration, the fact that you are closer to door thanks to it is not relevant. You look like you do this all the time, which you do. He glances around the room and pales.

God, he must be panicking worse than you are. He is answering. This is probably ideal. Okay plan time, so he and the other lady, Yleeda, are the only ones who saw you here. Wherever here is, and she thinks you’re dead so really you just need to have him be incredibly cool and then run into literally no other person on board the ship while exploring it, figure out where you are, and how you got here. Easy if you don’t think about it.

You were trying to get to Mallek and he is neither of these people so maybe he is on board somewhere on whatever place they restocked at. Maybe he does get to work with tech and he got to hole up somewhere with access to energy drinks that would kill anyone gold and below. This could mean you will never find him. Okay, you need to deal with one thing at a time.

Oh, so when you got started working on this ship? Is Yleeda doing anything to irk you back?

You ask this while stepping to look cool and relaxed against a wall, like all normal, cool guys do. Guys who are calm and not worried at all about incineration. Guys just trying to get a feel for where others are at so that they can give appropriate advice in appropriate situations that they are in. Those guys. You are them.

Your back finally makes contact with a wall. Or at least you thought it was a wall based off of how solid it was. You look up when you feel something grab your shoulder. The sound of the machinery that you thought would mask your footsteps definitely masked Yleeda’s entering the room. She stares down at you and then back up at Etivor, her gloved hand holding you firm.

Oh.

So that plan didn't work.

Notes: How quickly can one person get attached to fantrolls made up on the spot to act as plot devices? One author finds out.

#homestuck #hiveswap #friendsim #mspa reader #mallek adalov #hs mallek #mallek x reader #my writing

13 notes · View notes

bluehhj · 5 years ago

Text

listen to me — chapter 47

LISTEN TO ME — 0047

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 1.8K

Just before nightfall, as the sun was casting its last orange rays over the city, Yoorim and Woojin returned to the hospital. This time the reception was full, which resulted in more work for the nurses behind the reception desk. Luckily, they didn't have to stand in line to ask about Jinah and Jisung — although Chan had been spending all afternoon sending very detailed messages to the group they created in the messaging app —, as Seungmin was finishing talking to a lady, probably going over a diagnosis, and, when she said goodbye, he soon approached the pair.

"Shouldn't you be gone now?" Woojin asked and Yoorim watched the intern's tired expression, who didn't seem to have the slightest intention of taking off his coat and going to rest.

"It's fifteen minutes before my shift is over," Seungmin pointed out, laughing softly. He might as well pretend to be busy and idle until he could leave the hospital, as Woojin suggested, but his sense of responsibility wasn't that foldable. "If even Chan hyung, who should have left at four, is still here, why am I going to stop working while I still can?

"Woojin has to stop thinking that everyone is uncompromised just like him," pinned Yoorim. The oldest of the three was so used to having similar adjectives attributed to him that he didn't care. "But anyway..." her hands seeped into the pockets of her dark sweatshirt, cold. Although spring was approaching, the cold of winter was still bothering a lot. "Is Jisung feeling better or is he still the same?"

Seungmin bit his lower lip uncertainly. "You better see yourselves."

Personally speaking, Woojin hated hospitals and avoided them as much as possible. He thought everything smelled of alcohol and medicine and he also repudiated the strange feeling of sadness hanging in the air like a mist; so, many details of the corridors Seungmin led them through purposely went unnoticed.

"Nobody said anything else about Jinah?" he asked as they entered the elevator. Woojin had no idea how half of the university already knew what had happened, and that worried him. The way the news was spreading was completely distorted from the original, and even he, being gossip most of the time, was careful not to say anything that could be interpreted even more erroneously.

"She's still the same," Seungmin said ruefully. "Looks like her parents will arrive today."

Yoorim never understood what it was like to feel genuine parent-child concern, but she could imagine how sad and desolate Choi's parents were at that moment. Though she didn't quite understand love, either, she could put herself in their shoes and think about what it would be like to see her father or Hyunjin in a situation similar to Jinah's, and only the distorted image caused her an agonized uneasiness in her chest that extend all the way to Jisung's room.

Seungmin opened the door carefully, and just like the other two times, Han showed no interest in looking up from his own legs wrapped in a blanket. Jisung's expression remained indifferent and all his actions were almost as slow as the serum dripping into his veins.

"So far he hasn't spoken to anyone but Hyoyeon, and that was before he knew about Jinah," Seungmin whispered. "You can try, but I don't know if it's going to do much good."

Yoorim stepped forward and nodded to Chan, only then noticing that he was there with a college book on his lap. Then she stopped at a comfortable distance from the bed and reached for a chocolate on the empty nightstand. "You can eat when you feel like it," she offered, aware that it must be bad to settle for the dull hospital food alone. "It's your favorite."

If Jisung liked it, he didn't make a point of moving a muscle to demonstrate. Yoorim wasn't upset about that. She had known Han long enough to understand his way of dealing with pain. As when breaking his engagement with Chaerin, for example, Jisung closed himself and arrogantly dismissed anyone who tried to approach. Here, however, everything was so exponentially stronger that he could not even utter any cursing whatsoever, and that was what really worried Yoorim. Suffering in silence was synonymous with drowning in your own ocean, alone.

"I suck at giving advice, you know that..." Woojin began, serious as it rarely happened. "But I think you have to think positive... According to my general knowledge of our friendship contract, I imagine you have already blamed yourself and been desperate because you're full of negative thoughts. And I also know that a coma is far from just a cold, but perhaps not as bad as it seems," he paused, checking Han's features to see if he was not accidentally making things worse, but Jisung remained neutral. "I can't tell you "relax, she'll wake up in a moment", because no one knows when this will happen, but nurturing the hope that everything will work out is much better than nurturing frustration in thinking it won't... Jinah needs you more than you need her, Sung. You have to be fine to help her out of this."

"I never thought I'd say that in my life, but I agree with Woojin" Chan got up from the couch and hugged the book to his chest. "Several studies point out that the line between consciousness and unconsciousness is thinner than you might think. I don't know if this is the case with Jinah, but there are people who go into a coma and still hear what others say and even respond in their own way. It's a way to help revitalize some damaged parts of the brain and it does very, very well."

"Don't interpret what we said as if we were trying to stop you from suffering, that's not it," added Yoorim. "You can and should suffer a lot, it is completely normal for that to happen, but giving up on believing is not an option, okay? Alright we don't even know what you are thinking right now and maybe the idea of giving up hasn't even gone through your head, but if this pessimism was there at some point, I ask you not to listen to it, oppa. It'll be all right and period."

Jisung didn't answer, but Seungmin noticed as he began to wiggle his fingers absently, perhaps pondering. The intern was still not comfortable enough to speak to Han as directly as his friends did, so he decided to just watch. After all, Seungmin was absolutely sure that Jisung didn't like him — and it wasn't as if he had no reason to do so, after all. Both approaching at the time of the accident didn't mean that the disagreements were set aside and now they were all friends. Seungmin couldn't forget that.

"Visiting hours have changed and I didn't know?" almost all eyes in the room turned to the door when a lady arrived with a white suitcase in her hands. She was clearly one of the hospital's most experienced nurses, and her smile was so tender it made others want to smile, too.

"It was my mistake, Mrs. Baek," Seungmin apologized, though the woman seemed to be just kidding.

"It's fine, dear," she waved a hand in the air, dismissing Kim's concern. Then she entered the room and left her briefcase next to the chocolate that Yoorim gave Jisung. "Only now I need to change this boy's bandages. By the way, weren't you two supposed to go home?" pointed to Chan and Seungmin. "Especially you, Chan. They said you could leave a long time ago."

"I'll be right out, just waiting for someone else to arrive," the future doctor replied, smiling small. "Be well, Jisung. You guys too."

Woojin and Yoorim returned the smile and Chan waved at the nurse before leaving. Seungmin also said goodbye quickly when he received a message from Chaerin, who would always pick him up at the end of the day, saying that she had arrived. The Canadian was going through the same dilemma as her boyfriend, and although worried, she didn't know if it would be good for Jisung to have her so close all of a sudden; so she was content only to ask and send positive thoughts to both Han and Jinah.

When Mrs. Baek opened the bag full of cotton, medicine bottles, bandages and a multitude of other products to make a good dressing, Yoorim chose to give Jisung more privacy, while Woojin didn't want to risk fainting if he saw blood, and so they went toward the waiting room on the floor, not far from the bedroom. Halfway through, Kim snapped his tongue in the roof of his mouth, and Heo knew he was about to ask something.

"What did you think?"

"He needs some time," Yoorim answered after a few seconds in silence. Woojin didn't need to be completely clear for anyone to understand that she was referring to the way Jisung was acting. "That took everyone by surprise, it really is a bit astonishing for anyone."

Woojin nodded and said nothing more about it. If he himself who had not even spent so much time with Jinah had been affected to the point that he could not even work without his mind often flooded with the same subject, then, Jisung must have been a complete mess.

The matter came to an end early when someone entered the waiting room with the speed of a rocket. Yoorim felt sick to realize that it was Yeji. It got worse as she grew closer, and Heo could feel the intensity of her angry glare, which, from so many people, was aimed solely at her.

"The analysis of the fingerprints found on the ring that caused part of the accident is now ready," she used her firmer tone of voice to emphasize each syllable, not even offering a good night before throwing the bomb. "They're all yours, Yoorim."

Woojin gasped as Yoorim went pale as a sheet of paper. Everything turned in Heo's head and she couldn't even express a reaction before Kim finally stopped coughing.

"What do you mean, you crazy?!" Woojin didn't take respect for authority very seriously when it came to Yeji, but, this time, she didn't care and just shoved a paperwork into Yoorim's chest.

"The evidence is there."

With trembling hands, the youngest of the three pushed the papers away from her chest and ran her teary eyes over the photos and paragraphs filled with relevant information contained in the sheets. The report proved that yes, the fingerprints were hers, but it made no sense! Millions of questions screamed in her mind, so deafening that she couldn't even tell them apart.

And without even letting her try to find herself in the confusion, Yeji, her voice dripping with camouflaged pride, pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her uniform pocket and finished announcing:

"Heo Yoorim, you are under arrest for attempted double murder."

a/n: first, I need to apologize. I should have posted yesterday, right? but well, yesterday there was a big rain and I ended up without internet all day, so that's why. but now here is another chapter for you guys!

and what pissed me off the most in the last chapter was the lack of depth in jisung's feelings, although it was planned long ago. it is my intention not to focus too much on everything he's feeling at the same time, because not even himself knows, and that is where there's the return of a character aka love of my life to try to help jisung. but anyway the description was horrible and I hated that ending.

in compensation, I liked today's chapter and this is a miracle!!!!!!! #protectheoyoorim

and well, don't forget that I love you guys so much, ok??? see you in the next chapter <3

26 notes · View notes