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thedistantdusk · 3 years ago

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Thanks to @jenoramaca @gryffindorhealer and @secretkeeper13 for the quick beta work!

A gift for my beloved @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey.

CW: Language and domestic fluff

______

Trying

From the second he walks through the door, Harry can sense that something’s changed. It takes him thirty minutes to suss out why.

In retrospect, the smells coming from the kitchen probably tipped him off. Or maybe it was Ginny’s distracted hum, followed by the tinkling of plates and cutlery. Perhaps it was the fact that she prepared a full dinner, long before he even got home.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t worry about it too much as he greets her with a kiss, his hands cupping her chin. When he sits across from her at the table, there’s something furtive and curious lurking behind her eyes, but their meal is so peppered with normalcy that he doesn’t bring it up. They banter and laugh about Luna and Robards and wonder what they’ll bring to the Burrow on Sunday.

But when they’ve reached the stage of chasing stray noodles around their plates, Ginny finally clears her throat… and just like that, the nearly imperceptible shift he’d sensed earlier turns into something very perceptible, indeed. “Can I erm. Talk to you about something?”

He pauses, mid-bite, and takes her in. Her lip’s worried between her teeth, her hands fidgeting. Even her hair, normally strewn about her shoulders or parted to the side with a sort of effortless grace, is tied back and resting low at the base of her neck.

Ginny’s not normally this… serious. And he’d be lying to say it didn’t frighten him.

So he blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “Who died?”

There’s a half-second pause in which his chest clenches, his stomach churns. Could it be Molly? Or Arthur? George hasn’t been great either, not that—

But Ginny just reels back, confused… and it’s not until then that Harry realizes he’s really, really misread something.

“I… w-what?” she stammers, brow furrowing. She peers at him for a pained moment before her face relaxes into a look of understanding. “Oh. Oh! For fuck’s sake,” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. “I guess I’m thicker than usual, should’ve known you’d read it that way.”

Harry snorts. “Erm… darling, as many things as I legitimately don’t understand, I’m fairly sure this one isn’t on me.”

Ginny ignores this. “Did you seriously think that something dreadful happened and I’d just spring that on you in the middle of your bolognese?” Her lips twitch into a smirk. “Here’s some pasta. By the way, a fire burned a puppy orphanage to the ground. Could you pass the salt?”

He gives her a plain stare. Nice try. Years ago, he might’ve taken the bait and chased her down that rabbit hole. They might’ve had an hour-long, spirited debate on the existence of puppy-specific orphanages. But after three years of marriage, he knows better.

And she knows he knows.

Ginny finally draws a resigned breath. “No,” she says slowly. “No one died, ok? Or is even… I don’t know, sick or infirmed or threatened.” She waves her hand and continues babbling. “Last I checked, even Muriel’s still going strong, somehow. I’m jealous of that, you know— being old enough to just say whatever the fuck you’d like and have no one question it because—”

“—Ginny,” he cuts across on an exasperated sigh. “As chuffed as I am to chat about Muriel all night, I’d really like to know what’s bothering you. Please?”

There’s another pause as she bites her lip. Then, in one swift motion, she attempts to rise to her feet and push her chair in on her way over to him.

But somewhere along the way, something gets crossed— and Harry watches in bewildered horror as her foot catches on the leg of the chair. Then, right in front of his eyes, she lets out a startled gasp, her arms flailing, before she lands with a thump.

He’s out of his seat and on the floor beside her before he even realizes she’s cried out in pain and surprise. “Are you ok?” he demands, pushing her jeans up around her ankle… her tricky ankle, the one she hurt rather badly at the playoffs last month. Hm. It's a bit red.

Honestly, she hasn’t been this clumsy since she was 10 years old and near a butter dish. This does nothing to alleviate his fears that there’s something Very Wrong.”

“It’s not even my ankle that hurts,” Ginny grits, pushing up on her palms. “Wait— Harry, what are you—”

“Need to ask Gwenog,” he says urgently, running to the other side of the table for his wand. “She said that if anything happens to your ankle to tell her straight away, remember? Better safe than—”

She scoffs. “Seriously, Harry, I’m fine! I didn’t even land on my—”

He arches an eyebrow. “Have you suddenly forgotten the Puddlemere match? When your ankle broke clean through the skin?” Even now, the memory makes him shudder. “You heard Gwenog— without magic, you might not have walked again.”

“But there was magic,” she says, almost pleading. “And seriously, I’m fine!”

Harry finds he has limited patience for her heroics, though, while she’s sprawled out on the floor and nursing a bruise on her arse. “Gwenog’s instructions were quite clear,” he says firmly. “Having a pro athlete as a wife is a group task. It’s taxing on your body. I’ve got to make sure there’s enough of you left to enjoy our lives.”

Ginny clears her throat. “Erm… but what if you… haven’t actually got a pro athlete as a wife. Technically speaking.”

Harry swallows. He’s sure he’s heard her wrong. “What?”

With a wince, she adjusts herself against the wall. “I’m sorry… this isn’t how I’d planned to tell you. I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

Normally, Harry might press a bit harder. Normally he’d demand answers— and now. But as he peers at her on the floor, there’s something soft and uncertain behind her eyes… something timid. So he decides to do something he knows he’s good at— something she doesn’t let many other people do: take care of her.

With a sigh, he scoops her from the floor and brings her to the sofa. Then he props her against the pillows, putting her legs across his lap.

And he waits.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, peering at her downcast face, before she finally says it in a rush.

“Iwanttohaveababy.”

It comes on a whisper. A breathed admission. He knows, just from her expression, that she’s never said it aloud.

But he must have misunderstood. There’s no way he’s not projecting, inserting the reality he wants instead. “Could you… could you repeat that?” he manages, his voice gruff and shaken.

Ginny just sits up straighter; her cheeks as red as her hair. “I want to have a baby,” she repeats, the confidence building with every word.

Oh. Looks like he was right after all.

Harry blinks at the carpet, his head spinning, mortified with the tears that have sprung, unbidden, to the corners of his eyes.

A baby. Their baby. A smile plays at his lips as he stares at her ankle in distracted bliss. He’s been ready for ages… longer than anyone he knows. It’s hard to remember a time when he didn’t want a family with her. When he didn’t want to watch her grow and change. To become more beautiful with every passing day until…

He swallows back another round of tears; he’d never forgive himself if he forced this… if he swayed her, in any way, despite what he wants so badly it squeezes his insides.

“But what about quidditch?” His voice cracks; he clears his throat to cover it. “Honestly Ginny, I’ll wait, as long as you’d like. We’re young. Think of what you’d deal with, loads of assumptions and press and comments.”

She turns to him with an arched brow. “And since when have I ever cared about comments? Since when have you cared about comments?”

He spreads his palms in resignation; it was a particularly weak argument. “I know. I just… don’t want to make your life more difficult.”

“Well...” She draws a deep breath and peers down at her nails. “I’ve erm. Actually quit the Harpies, all by myself.” Her cheeks begin to redden again. “I’ve already sent the owl and everything. Resigned. No intent to return next season.”

Oh.

That’s what she meant, then, about not being married to a professional athlete. Harry blinks a few more times as she plows through an explanation that could honestly be something from a dream.

“I’ve… I’ve just been thinking about it. A lot,” she adds, focus returning to her cuticles. “The Harpies are out for the rest of the season— that fucking Puddlemere match and that bullshit ref.” She glares at the pillow to her right. “Nothing like blind favoritism. Fucking prick should’ve been fired!”

All Harry can manage is a feeble chuckle, his hand moving to caress her knee. This time, he can’t bring himself to stop her spiral.

“Maybe it’s not just that match, though,” she admits, rubbing her ankle. “It’s also just… so much bloody work. I’ve been at it three whole seasons, you know? I’m a bit tired of missing birthdays. And family events. And only dreaming of bludgers and snitches. And attending the mandatory press interviews to avoid getting fined, and then giving polite answers to personal questions when I really just want to hex them, and—”

Harry laughs. “I think Sandra Richardson might disagree about the polite answers bit, darling.”

Ginny gives a dignified sniff and continues as if she hasn’t heard him. “Annnyway,” she says, toying with a piece of lint. “I… feel like I’m ready to move on. So.” Her face splits into a grin as she gestures to the corridor. “On with it.”

He clears his throat. “As much as I’d love to take you up on that, I’m confused about how this relates to quitting your job. You could’ve kept playing. Or—”

“—Why is it so hard to believe this is something I want?”

There’s a beat. He doesn’t have a good answer.

“What if I wanted to quit before I got pregnant?” she continues, her tone growing more demanding. “What if I was done with playing, regardless — and genuinely wanted to have children? Your children.”

She lets out an incredulous laugh, tossing her hands in the air. “I have to say, Harry, this feels an awful lot like you’re doubting what I actually want to fit a narrative of what you think I want.” Her eyes narrow again. “Is that really respecting my wishes?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. He’d never thought about it like that before… how it might be insulting, really, to question what she’s ready for. He laces their fingers together, feeling properly chastened. “I’m sorry. I never meant to… suggest you don’t know what you want. Or something.”

He hears the timid smile in her voice as she squeezes his hand back. “Do you still want a baby, then?” she asks. “Or are you just in it for the practice?”

A smile creeps across his face, his eyes still focused on her hands. “I… think you know the answer to that one.”

“Well, I’m not sure I do,” Ginny says flatly. “Because I just told someone who wants two million babies that I’m ready to carry his first child. Forgive me if I expected a bit more excited fanfare than acting like I drowned your kitten.”

“What’s with you and baby animals today?” he murmurs, inching her pant leg a bit higher.

“Wonder why I’ve got babies on the brain,” she quips, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe because I want one.”

Harry releases a resigned sigh. She’s clearly done playing. “Honestly…” He bites his lip. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’m obviously on board. Obviously.” His eyes flit to hers. “I just… I don’t want to be responsible for something you end up regretting.”

It’s the truth of the matter, really; the thing that tugs at him the hardest. The fear he’d ever burden her… the worry he’d ever make her less than happy.

Ginny gives him a small smile, her hand coming to cup his jaw. “I’m going to take that as a weird, sad Harry thing instead of an attempt to remove my womanly agency.” She narrows her eyes. “But that’s your final warning.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet in a split-second, gathering her into his arms with the stupidest grin he’s ever worn. Trying. Is that what they call this? Are they actually properly trying now?

“Get used to this,” she says as he strides into the bedroom. “Because once you knock me up— on purpose, mind— I’m going to request a lot more transportation.”

“I think I can live with that,” Harry murmurs against her lips, draping her across the bed.

And to avoid a well-deserved slap, he doesn’t say the final bit: As long as you can live with me.

#harry/ginny #harry/ginny fanfic #hinny #harry potter #harry and ginny

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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Another love by Tom Odell. Tell me that Bucky wouldn't send this to his girl when things were getting difficult for him emotionally

ANOTHER LOVE

a/n: no idea if this was meant to be a prompt but i couldn't stop thinking about it so i wrote it lmao

pairing: Bucky X Reader

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

Life hasn’t been the fairytale either of you deserved. Things just don’t turn out as perfect as they to in movies and sometimes you fall for the wrong person, too deep probably, and it makes you feel like you will never find the right one.

After everything Bucky had been through he fell for a woman for the first time in decades and though he put all his faith in her, she wasn’t the right person for him. He was ready to give her everything he had and love her with all his heart, but she didn’t want it. She didn’t deserve it. Leaving him heartbroken when she left, thinking that maybe loving someone and be loved by someone is just not meant to happen to him.

Then you came into his life.

Being a nurse working beside Dr. Cho at the Tower, you ended up stitching him up quite a lot following his missions. Bruises, cuts, even bullet holes, you’ve seen them all on his body and though Bucky hated to appear vulnerable, you somehow made him feel at ease when you were cleaning him up, humming whatever song you had stuck in your head that week.

You bonded over music from day one. As a person who likes all kinds and genres, you were his number one source when it came to modern music. You made him Spotify playlists every week, making him listen to the best songs in your opinion and he listened to them all. Not just because they really were good songs but because he was ready to do anything you asked him to. You had him wrapped around your finger in a blink of an eye, but when things were about to take a turn, he backed out. At first, you just thought you misread the signs and that he didn’t even like you like that. But then you heard Banner and Nat talk about how Bucky keeps talking about you and that everyone in the Tower thinks that he is in love with you. So instead of letting him get away with it, you confronted him.

That was when he told you about the woman that hurt him before. The way she broke his heart and made him think that he is not worthy of being loved. And you listened to his every word patiently, though you wanted to smack that woman so badly for hurting such a wonderful man.

“Just because she couldn’t appreciate your love, it doesn’t mean that you are not worthy of receiving or giving love. Because you are,” you told him as your hands reached for his metal one, taking it between your palms. You knew how insecure he felt about it and you wanted him to know that you loved every part of him, even the ones that wasn’t entirely made of him.

“I don’t know if I’m the right guy for you, Y/N,” he shook his head, doubting his worth once again.

“You are, because I want you. And I know that you’ll try your best to be the right guy for me even though you already are,” you chuckles and reaching up you cupped his face in your palm.

That day you made a silent promise to take it slow and just find your own pace with each other. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, loving is already complicated enough, but Bucky’s state of mind was an even messier issue. However you refused to give up on him.

Weeks went by and your usual routine started to change slowly. Bucky didn’t only come to see you when he had an injury to take care of, you went on dates or just hung out after your shift. You were always there when he returned from a mission and he never let you leave the Tower without him, he always walked you home, even if he had work to do.

Everything seemed to be on track. Right until one stupid fight ruined everything.

Sam always had a flirty manner in his act. He liked to chit-chat, compliment you, but it was always just friendly. However, when one day he and Bucky returned from a mission, both of them with quite a few injuries, they ended up under your hands as you worked on their wounds, cleaning and bandaging them.

“Darling, your hands are gifts from God,” Sam sighed when you applied a cooling gel to one of his burns before you covered the injured skin. “Or maybe you are an angel yourself,” he then added, making you chuckle.

“Stop it, I’m just doing my job.”

“And you are so damn good in it. I’m one lucky man,” he grinned at you, but before you could say a word, Bucky jumped off the stool beside him and marched out of the room as if he was just triggered into being the winter soldier again. The door shut close behind him, he walked out without even glancing in your way and he left you all confused. You exchanged a look with Sam before you finished up his wounds and mumbling an apology you went after the grumpy soldier that just left.

Stepping out of the room you spotted him at the end of the hallway, sitting all by himself.

“Hey, why did you leave?” you asked, sitting next to him.

“No reason,” he answered without even looking at you, keeping his gaze at the tiled floor.

“That’s so not true. I know something is wrong. Please, just talk to me!” you pleaded, placing a hand to his arm, but his eyes snapped at it right away and made you think you did something wrong.

“I was just not in the mood to listen to Sam flirting with you,” he hissed.

“Then why didn’t you just tell him to stop?” you asked, knitting your eyebrows together.

“Because… I don’t have the right to act all possessive over you.”

Technically, he was right. You weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but everyone in the Tower knew you were something. You wanted him to be possessive, to make men stop flirting with you because he thought of you as his. You were so close to it too, but now you felt like you were going backwards again.

“Well, you can easily have the right, Bucky. You know that,” you told him, praying he would take the desperate hint you’d been trying to send him these past weeks.

“Y/N, stop,” he breathed out, closing his eyes.

“Why? Would it be so hard to be more than just friends? Am I not good enough for you?” you asked, speaking thoughts you’ve been harboring these past times even though your rationality knew they weren’t true.

“You know that’s not the case!” he snapped, standing from his seat so you did the same. “It’s me, Y/N. I’m the problem and you know that.”

“You are not a problem, Bucky! How many times do I have to tell you that? I’m not the one who broke your heart, I want to be whatever you need me to be, Bucky, but you are shutting me out! I’m getting tired of telling you the same thing over and over again, because you don’t seem to be listening!” you replied angrily, letting out all the pent up tension you’ve been carrying around. “I feel like I’m talking to a wall, you just keep ignoring what I’m saying. And I want to be patient with you, I would do anything to make you happy, but I can’t do this if you don’t cooperate with me.”

You turned around and marched back into the room before he could say a word, leaving him completely stunned and in panic that he is losing you.

That day you went home without him for the first time in months. Not because he wasn’t there to walk you home, Bucky waited for you at the hall, but then he was informed that you left early. It was a clear message to him that he needed to get his shit together if he didn’t want to lose you.

Eating all your feelings away, you sat on your couch that night with your favorite ice-cream, watching reruns on TV, hoping to take your mind off of a blue eyed soldier, but you didn’t succeed. He was all you could think about and the thought of losing him made you want to cry yourself to sleep and never wake up.

When your phone’s screen lit up with a message, you were shocked to see a text from Bucky. Only that no words were in it, just a link that led you to a song on Spotify.

Another Love by Tom Odell.

Even though you knew the song well, you still listened to it, tears rolling down your cheeks as you focused on the lyrics, because you knew it had a message from Bucky. A quite emotional one. You listened to it again and again as the singer sang about feeling like he put way too much of his energy into another love and that he fears that he won’t love his current one the way she deserves. You knew that this was exactly how Bucky felt like, he was scared he wouldn’t be able to give you everything you wanted because he had been hurt so badly before and it broke your heart to know that he was ready to live a lonely life because of his misbeliefs.

Eager to see him as soon as possible, you grabbed your bag and was about to head out, but when you tore the door open you found the man you were looking for already standing on your doormat.

“Bucky!” you breathed out with teared up eyes. “How long have you been standing here?” you asked, holding the door open for him to come in.

“Since you started listening to the song,” he answered with a soft, tired smile. “Like a hundred times,” he then added, making you chuckle even through your tears. “Y/N, I’m sorry for the way I acted today. It’s just so hard for me to put myself out there again. I know that you’re not her, that you’re different, but still, I can’t help but think that it will happen again,” he told you, his voice dying down at the end. Stepping closer you cupped his face in your hands as you stared back at him.

“Putting yourself out is never easy, but you have to do it sooner or later, Bucky. And I promise you, I won’t do the same thing that she did. She didn’t deserve your love, she didn’t deserve you. Don’t punish yourself for her faults,” you pleaded as he leant into your touch, his eyes fluttering closer, his thick eyelashes fanning on top of his skin under his eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” he whispered, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer to him.

“You are not a mess,” you shook your head. “But even if you are, we can be a mess together,” you chuckled and his eyes finally opened as a small smile stretched across his handsome face.

“That sounds good,” he nodded softly as he leant closer and rested his forehead against yours. “Will you wait for me? To fix myself so I can be the man you deserve?” he asked, so out of breath as if he just ran a marathon.

“I’ll be right here, listening to all our playlists until you’re ready,” you chuckled softly, as he smiled back at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as a silent promise.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky oneshot #bucky one shot #sebastian stan oneshot

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soul-dwelling · 3 years ago

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Have you heard something about Ohkubo being racist? I saw some twitter links, which due to personal reasons I cant check for myself, but otherwise couldnt find anything on.

Shared September 18, 2021

I've sat on this question for a long time, and yet my answer will still be incomplete. As I am white, I want to be aware of the white privilege I have, and I anticipate I am going to give a response that fails to address certain topics and concerns--and is just going to be flat-out wrong in a lot of parts. I anticipate I will get things wrong below, I don't like that, but I want to be open to reading more and figuring out what I'm getting wrong so I can fix what I get wrong. And I want to learn from any responses I receive--so I encourage any responses, and I will read and consider them.

At the time when I received this question, I was not aware of any Twitter links regarding accusations of Ohkubo being racist. Despite being a huge fan of Soul Eater, this was something I was unaware of, and I was purposefully ignoring--because I was ignoring any discourse around Fire Force, not around Ohkubo or Soul Eater in general. While I have followed what Soul Eater stuff is out there, I have purposefully avoided a lot of Fire Force content since the anime was announced--including muting any Fire Force stuff on Twitter. While I do not regret avoiding Fire Force stuff (there is only so much annoyance I can take from that franchise), I do regret overlooking this discussion around racism in Ohkubo’s works, I regret that, and I apologize for overlooking it right now--and in the past.

Because I have overlooked racist elements in Ohkubo’s prior works, including in Soul Eater, including on this very blog. I don’t think apologizing is enough, and I am determining what steps I can take to handle this better--and that starts with acknowledging the racist elements in his works. I think some have unfortunate implications that need to be debated.

For example, one Twitter remark I read asked why the South American meister had to be Enrique instead of a human. (And, I anticipate, how that leads to its own set of unfortunate implications, associating being from South America to being a monkey, regardless Tezca, his visual conceit, and his powers being derived from, not South American cultures only or exactly, but from Aztec and indigenous Mexican cultures.) I don’t think adding Enrique as a meister is bad, when the joke works; I think adding Enrique, and not more South American human characters, is a problem, and when your one South American meister is a non-human animal, when no other meister in the series, especially of a Death Scythe, has been a non-human animal, this is going to stick out and be offensive. I have seen and written stories with animals as meisters to weapon partners; it is a great idea, having Enrique be that character is great, but it is a missed opportunity that erases a spot where a person of South American could have been. Having Tezca as one such South American person helps, but again, this is a missed opportunity.

As an aside, this also opens up unfortunate implications to having Black Star being mistaken by Liz as a monkey, given headcanon I’ve seen from fans about Black Star’s identity with regard to Japanese ethnicities and the fact that Black Star does have dark skin.

And another set of Twitter remarks focused on the stylized designs to the band playing at the DWMA Anniversary Party (and here). Regardless whether stylization was used on white characters in that scene, the stylization on the Black characters who were performing in the band is drawing upon a history of racist images (the lips on drummer and cellist) and is racist. I’ll get to this later, but I agree with this remark that it’s bizarre that Ohkubo did this despite what he has done well with inclusiveness amongst his cast. And like I’ll also say later, it’s like me sitting here thinking “How could he do so well at writing a girl lead like Maka in an action series, then fail so badly writing Tamaki in his follow-up series?” My pathetic answer is that no creator is perfect, they make mistakes--and it becomes infuriating when they screw up so badly and don’t seem to learn from that screw-up, don’t show regret, don’t fix what they broke, and don’t improve. I’ve ranted enough here on this blog that I don’t think Ohkubo has grown with his audience: I think he keeps making the same immature mistakes (immature in terms of his craft, immature as well in terms of his humor).

And since I did bring up the monkey remarks about Enrique and Black Star, there are the major sets of discourse around racism in Ohkubo’s works, that being Maka referring to Sid, who is Black, as a gorilla (not to mention “thuggish”), and Shinra in Fire Force referring to Charon, who has dark skin, as a gorilla.

Regardless the excuses made (“racism in Japan is not the same as racism elsewhere”--which, no, fuck that, people globally including in Japan know the racist associations made where being Black or brown is associated by racists with non-human primates), I don’t get why no one, from Ohkubo to his editors to distributors to audiences including me, do not say more about this racist detail.

And I don’t get why no editor or localization staff bothered to change it. I have not sat through the Fire Force dub, but I hope someone working at localization changed the line. (It’s one thing to change a subtitled line and avoid something offensive at the cost of accuracy in translation, including accurately translating content even when it’s awful, or else you’re just covering up for the awfulness in the original work. But it’s another thing to not revise the line for dubbing, when you should have more flexibility in that kind of adaptation.)

(And that’s not getting into casting white actors as Black characters in the Soul Eater dub, but I hope I can address that another time with more depth should Soul Eater ever get a continuation or a re-dub...which, given how enough of the original dub cast have fucked over their careers and revealed their abusiveness and toxic bullshit in their personal lives, either a new anime or a new dub sounds good right about now.)

The responses to this criticism have been to rightly point out that Ohkubo does include numerous varied portrayals of Black characters (also here and here and here), drawing upon Black identities from the United States and Africa, especially for characters like Kilik and Ogun. But, me personally, pointing out what is done well does not negate what is done badly. (And yes, just because I think Maka Albarn is a great representation of a girl character in shonen doesn’t negate how Ohkubo fucked up with Chapter 113 and all of Tamaki in Fire Force).

As a creator, you’re supposed to fix what you did wrong, you don’t distract from what you did wrong by doing something else well later. You fix the character in front of you, not only make new characters and let that distract the audience from what you did wrong. You fix Sid (which, for me, means some potential adjustments to character design and not calling him a freaking gorilla); you don’t distract by creating Kilik and Ogun. You fix Tamaki (give her more to do, don’t make every joke around fanservice, stop fucking sexualizing a 17-year-old); you don’t distract by pointing to Maka or Maki. That’d be like me excusing something I did wrong in one set of responsibilities by asking you to look at something good I did: that doesn’t fix what I did wrong by mistake. Asking people to “leave the medium” is not helping: this is a debate, you get to watch something, you get to decide for yourself whether you think something is racist or misread, I’m not up for gatekeeping people to block them from either criticizing something or enjoying something.

And while your enjoyment of something can reflect on your values (if you keep liking jokes calling Sid a gorilla, what does that say about you?), I said “can,” not “does,” it is by context and debate (you can enjoy slasher movies without being a serial killer, etc).

I wish I had something more meaningful to say, and I don’t like that I don’t. I want to be a better ally, but just being aware that there are racist elements to this series, and just stating awareness, is not sufficient for me. It’s one reason why my focus is on uplifting fan content that does far better at handling inclusiveness and representation in this series. But my focus has been on representations of gender in the series--and that is my fault for not doing more to focus on representations of race and ethnicity, and I wish my apology would be enough, and it’s not, so I’m trying to figure out what I can do that is better. I will read feedback to do better.

#soul eater #atsushi ohkubo #fire force #sid barett #kilik rung #enrique

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stupidmamm0n · 4 years ago

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Can you do 35 with Satan? 👉👈 idk if you automatically do nsfw buttt... that'd be cool if you want to!

"Does your kind do this often?" Satan asks.

"What?" you ask in return.

"The thing where you're completely fascinated with monsters," he answers. "You stare everytime I'm in my demon form."

You feel your cheeks heat up. "Only because I find it hard to believe that a being that's been alive for thousands of years would purposely wear something so ugly."

His eyes flash in anger and your breath catches. Fuck, he looks hot when he’s mad.

"A feather boa," you continue, because apparently you have no survival instincts. "What year is this?"

"I find it hard to believe you take issue with my clothing when I can smell your arousal."

You blink, taking a step back. Your face is positively flaming now, and you have every intention of fleeing his room. You should have told Lucifer to drop Satan's books off himself.

Satan's tail flicks idly, then wraps around your wrist and tugs you closer.

"That's not a thing," you say weakly, mostly because you desperately hope it's true.

"On the contrary, human," Satan says, stepping in close. You walk backward, and he follows until the backs of your knees hit his bed. "I can practically taste it." He shoves you, and your back hits the mattress.

"It's the ribbon on the shirt for me," you insist. Maybe you can annoy him into dropping the subject.

Satan's tail unfurls from around your wrist, the tip of it dragging sharply across your palm before flicking to his own chest. "Shall I remove it then?" he asks. His tail makes quick work of the buttons, letting it hang open for a moment before he drops his shirt to the floor along with the boa.

Your mouth goes dry as you stare. "Um," you say, not exactly sure what's going on. Satan's either coming on to you or setting you up for humiliation. You're not sure which, but you figure it's worth a shot. "The pants are hideous, too."

"Are they?" Satan asks, amused. He pops the button of them open.

The next second his pants are around his ankles. He steps out of them, his knees brushing against yours. As he stands there before you, in nothing but a tight pair of black boxer briefs, you no longer wonder if he's doing this to set you up for humiliation. It's hard to imagine he'd go this far for it, especially with his cock so hard.

"And what about these?" Satan muses, dipping a thumb into the waistband of his boxers. "Do you hate these too?"

"Yes," you breathe. "Very much so."

Satan smirks, then shoves them down, freeing his cock.

"Fuck," you practically moan.

You can't believe this is happening after months of dancing around each other. Of getting close and backing off at the last second, fearing you've misread his signals.

"Tell me you want me," Satan orders. "And I might let you touch me."

"I do," you say immediately. "So badly."

"Say the words, human. Properly."

Pride you thought you had long since abandoned resurfaces. You want him to be the one who admits it first. "Needy thing, aren't you?" you ask.

"You forget," Satan says, climbing onto the bed, "that I can literally smell how turned on you are right now."

"I… I want…" You swallow. "I want…" Satan's cock twitches. "Please," you whisper, reaching out for him.

His tail whips around your wrists, pinning them above your head as he moves to straddle you. "I'm afraid your little confession isn't good enough." He wraps a hand around his cock and hisses. You stare as pre-cum beads at the tip. "This is normally where I'd say you've lost your chance and kick you out of my room." Panic floods through you. "Fortunately for you, I find you quite fascinating. So while I am not yet willing to let you touch me-" He gives his cock a stroke, and a small moan sounds in his throat. "I'll let you watch."

"Satan," you breathe.

"That's right," he gasps, jerking his cock quickly, eyes fixed on you. "Say my name."

"Satan," you repeat, desperately wishing you had been able to get over yourself long enough to tell him what he wants to hear. "You're so fucking hot."

He swipes his thumb over the tip of his cock, groaning in a way that tugs sharp in your gut and has you throbbing between your legs.

"Let me touch you," you plead, tugging against your restraints.

His tail tightens around your wrists. "No," he says, far too breathy to come across as strongly as he wanted.

You squirm beneath him, aching as you watch the pleasure flit over his face.

You finally break and admit it. "I want you, Satan." He strokes his cock faster, shivering at your words. "I have for… fuck. For so long."

"Had you said that to begin with," Satan moans, "I'd be inside you by now."

"Please," you beg, straining against his tail. "I want that."

Satan stills his hand, wrapping it tightly around the base of his cock.

"I want you to fuck me," you say, trembling with need.

That seems to tip Satan over the edge, and despite his hand being wrapped so tightly around it, cum runs down over his cock and over the backs of his fingers. "Fuck," he groans, shaking.

His cock and fingers are positively coated in cum by the time he's finished.

"Please," you say. "Fuck me."

Satan raises an eyebrow, and you can tell he's not going to make it easy. That's what you get for making him wait.

He goes from straddling your hips to straddling your chest. He pushes a slick finger past your lips, sucking in a sharp breath when you eagerly suck it clean.

"Do a good enough job cleaning me up," he says, "and I might be convinced to spend the rest of the night making you come over and over."

You lick your lips, and open your mouth, waiting. You're not going to let him down this time.

#obey me shall we date #satan #obey me #not suitable for your place of employment #love him but his outfit REALLY aint it #mywriting

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curioussubjects · 4 years ago

Note

You seem to have a way of understanding dean on a better level than a lot of us. What do you think of what jensen said about dean wasting his life away at the back of a pool bar if Sam was the one who had died? I'm having a hard time processing what he said and I'm still upset that jensen sees dean as still heavily codependent. Idk I'm uncomfortable that it came from jensen as opposed to anyone else. He let me down...

Ok, so this is a complicated question with a complicated answer. First, I want to say that I completely understand why people are upset. My immediate reaction was the same, tbh. But here’s the thing: Jensen was right, but he said it wrong. I realize the Jensen is right is, afaik, and on my dash at least, the main opinion going around, but the reason is more nuanced than the conventional wisdom. Sure, yeah, we know how Dean reacts to loss, and we’ve seen that kind of despair take him nowhere good (hello Advanced Thanatology), but that’s not why Dean had to be the one to die.

If you’ve been around my blog (and other polol folks, too) you might have noticed I’m on the Dean was always supposed to die camp. Not only that, but the dying in this case doesn’t mean the end but ascension. That is, it’s a death solely of the body in which the soul goes on to live it’s truest life free from the suffering of material existence, of suffering. Something that is achieved by actualization of the self. Death, in the philosophy informing the mytharc for Dabb’s run and s15 most loudly, is transformation. A refining of the self, say. In this ‘heaven” is meant to be what’s True, and Real, and Free (”what would you rather have, peace or freedom?” [both]).

Cool beans, but why does this matter. Well, I’m gonna quote my much less eloquent screaming from discord:

jensen IS right, but he SAID IT WRONG because the story never manifested itself [in 20]. so he described a hopeless dean wasting away which is so not what dean's death meant to portend. nothing wasting. nothing about hopelessness. he would cross and move on to LIVE HIS ACTUAL LIFE with his family, with his beloved, and he would welcome sam and sam's family (who would be dean's family, too) on that bridge and dean would still have a mission and i just aaaaaaaargh. BECAUSE HE WASNT MEANT TO DRIVE AROUND [pointlessly in heaven] EITHER

What I mean here is that Dean surviving and Sam being the one to die would only underscore how Not of Earth Dean was anymore. He didn’t belong there anymore. Everyone he loves, all he could ever need, or want, or dream, was somewhere else. Sam, on the other hand, did in fact have specific things to accomplish on earth still before being ready to ascend. Sam had Eileen and the MoL and the new hunter gen. As Jensen said, Sam had a bigger picture he was invested in, while Dean has always been about his family. Dean had said he was ready to retire if he knew the world was safe. Dean surviving instead of Sam would leave him wholly alone (yes, I know, Jody, Donna, and Claire, but for all Dean cares for them, they aren’t Sam and Cas. Mary, Bobby, Charlie).

If we think of death as a door and not an end, and assuming a finale that isn’t completely botched: Dean surviving alone would make his worst case scenario real in that he doesn’t have his family, he doesn’t have the people he loves to share things with. There would be only the job and dying bloody and alone. Meanwhile Sam would be in heaven never having come into his own as a leader. He wouldn’t have Eileen. The flipside, that is, the finale we didn’t get, would have Dean being around all his favorite people except Sam. BUT he would know Sam was following a path on his own right, he’d have a goal, he’d have a family. And then they’d reunite and never part.

The reason I’m saying this is because if one of the has to die, it has to be Dean because everything falls into place with the exception of the momentary separation between him and Sam. A separation that needs to happen because Dean needs to let go of the burden to “protect Sam” and Sam needs to walk on his own legs without his big brother/parent. It’s a growing up and letting go story before reunion. Where both Sam and Dean would be in environments conductive to them thriving. It’s the final blow to that toxic codependency.

Again, from my discord screaming:

ugh what a perfect microcosm of the finale: the essence of what jensen said is right, but the form of it, the way it was presented was all wrong. and i cant even fault him that badly because idk how much he does know, if he has only a pitch, how much he knew of the intended ending. we just don't know. we don't know what is ignorance and what is misunderstanding, or what is just good old misreading.

The proposal of the finale only works if properly delivered, I think something like that happened today, too. I don’t know to what extent it’s Jensen misspeaking (because it’s a finicky topic that is rather hard to explain) or being ignorant of the full scope of the mytharc (knowing he doesn’t actually watch the show).

At the end of the day, what Jensen says or doesn’t say doesn’t change the textual meanings of Supernatural. I know we want validation, and that we want our fave to agree with us, but the bottom line is that there’s only so much Jensen can say. And ultimately it doesn’t affect the story one bit.

Did...all this kinda answer your question? I know it got way long, but there’s a lot here skdjhfalksdjfhalsd Y’all can send more asks if you need clarification on any of this mess.

#supernatural #dean winchester #questions and answers #also anoooon omg thank you for validating my dean studies ❤#oh and also: let's not forget j2m have been historically infamous for having really bad spn takes #they are precious beans but they are also turnips #i have more thoughts about why this hit so hard today for a lot of us but it's late kjhfaskljfasd #if anyone wants to know remind me and i'll talk about it late

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klanceficatalogue · 4 years ago

Text

Klance Fic Starter Pack

So back in June of 2018 I made a Klance Fic Starter Pack post but since it’s been a long while since then I decided it’s finally time for an update. So here we have it! - Karri

so why don’t we fall by aknightley (1/1 | 8,218 | Explicit)

Five times Lance used a pet name for Keith, and one time Keith used one for Lance.

Keith has no basis for having a relationship with someone, so he's trying to follow Lance's lead.

//nsfw

The Marks We Make by wittyy_name (12/12 | 255,302 | Mature)

Lance McClain constantly dreams of the day he'll finally meet his mysterious soulmate. They don't say much, if anything at all, but they leave him with gorgeous paintings temporarily tattooing his skin. It's not exactly the situation he hoped for, but when he feels the connection between them, he can't bring himself to resent them. As much as he wishes his soulmate would just talk to him, he's resigned himself to being patient. In the meantime, he has a loving family and good friends to help him get by.

Keith Kogane dreads the day he'll finally meet his obnoxious soulmate. He's just an art student who's struggling to find his place in the world. There's so much he hasn't been able to control in his life, and the thought of having a soulmate, just another thing in his life which he also has no control over yet can't do anything about, is a little terrifying. So he ignores the words that occasionally appear on his skin. He has other things to focus on: like being a new student at a big university where his childhood friend and step-brother go.

//nsfw

(shallura, hunk/shay)

Nightmares by Trashness (1/1 | 14,864 | Teen And Up)

Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this.

Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps.

call me, beep me (10/10 | 85,591 | General)

(00:31) Do you think she gave me the wrong number on purpose? (00:31) Or was it a genuine mistake? (00:32) Like maybe she writes funny and I misread it? (00:32) Some of the numbers do look a little dodgy... (00:33) Cause, you know, her threes could very easily be poorly formed eights? And maybe she writes her sevens like her ones? (00:45) What (00:46) The (00:46) Fuck??? (00:47) Oh good, you are awake!

where lance messages the wrong number and things kind of snowball from there

(shallura)

Shut Up and Dance With Me by wittyy_name (15/15 | 249,827 | Mature)

Lance and his friends have been regulars at the Altea Dance Studio for years. Not just for classes, but to hang out, practice, and spend time with good people who love dancing. Every year, they audition to be one of the few representing Altea at the regional dance competition. Lance always auditions solo, but this year he misses out on auditions and blows his chance to participate. And so does his self-proclaimed rival, Keith.

Luckily, Shiro comes up with a brilliant plan: convince Lance and Keith to audition as a duo.

With a little convincing, and a lot of effort, these two might just be able to pull it off and go to regionals... or they might crash and burn.

//nsfw

(shallura)

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by klancekorner (13/13 | 135,555 | Mature)

Lance and Keith have been best friends since first grade. Lance’s brain is always on overdrive and Keith’s blunt, realistic ass can never keep up. They both come to realize that sometimes you can learn a lot about loving yourself by loving someone else.

//anxiety //insecurities //nsfw

i bet you look good on the dancefloor by xShieru (7/7 | 43,295 | Teen And Up)

"So like in 'Step Up'?" Allura shrugs. "Now that you put it like that - yes. I guess it's just like in 'Step Up'." The smile that she sends Shiro's way - followed by a shy wave, eugh - is sickening to say the least, and Lance still doesn't believe in dance camps.

Lance McClain's dancing career begins and ends with Keith.

Keith just wants to find out what Lance's deal is.

(shallura)

you never stood a chance by kagshina (1/1 | 12,221 | Teen And Up)

lance to hunk ♡ >i’m gonna fukin die hunk oh mygod i sent >keith a work out selfie that i wan supposed to fcukin send to you and you know what it said >”BET YOU WANNA LICK THESE NIPS” >HUNK I WILL NEVE BE ABLE TO FCE HIM AGAIN I WANT TO DI E

(Or, Keith is beautiful, Lance has a crush, and there's lots of shirtless selfies)

nothing’s quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts (1/1 | 50,369 | Teen And Up)

Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.

Sweet Quiznak by CheckeredCloth (4/4 | 6,819 | Teen And Up)

"You're really into him," Hunk mutters, and wow, Lance's face is on fire. Hunk is killing him.

"Look, read into how you like, Freud, just make sure that if I die Keith knows I totally would've mowed his ass like grass. That way, I can laugh hysterically at his emotionally-constipated expression from the afterlife."

Or: Lance is badly injured and has a few skeletons in his closet. Or maybe just the one.

//blood //injury

What a Healing Pod Can’t Repair by Remember_Me (12/12 | 55,777 | Teen And Up)

The compromised wormhole was ripping apart at the seams, sending everyone spiraling away in completely different directions. Lance could feel himself being pulled and bent in ways he was definitely not supposed to be. -- Stitching the team back together after everyone is separated is difficult, and for one Paladin rescue wouldn't be coming for a very long time.

//violence //blood

Bonding Time by magisterpavus (1/1 | 16,416 | Explicit)

“Shiro, I fucked up,” Keith blurted, wringing his hands.

Shiro paused mid-punch, shooting him a quizzical look. “What? What happened?”

“I think,” Keith whispered, “I think I accidentally roofied Lance. With my dick.”

//nsfw

Homesick at Space Camp by K0bot (15/15 | 74,280 | Teen And Up)

Lance realizes he's been an asshole to Keith, and on a diplomatic mission to a key planet for the Voltron alliance he... overcompensates.

//blood //injuries //panic attacks

we’ll make it, you and me by ghostcribs (1/1 | 6,421 | Teen And Up)

"Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you."

//injury

time out of mind by aknightley (2/2 | 27,849 | Teen And Up)

Keith and Lance wake up married. In the future.

He lays there a moment, processing the faint throbbing in his head, a strange bitter taste like lemons in his mouth. When he opens his eyes, the room spins wildly into a kaleidoscope of colors, so he closes them again, breathing in and out until he feels less like he might throw up. He suddenly registers a warm weight over his waist, and lifts his head to see a brown arm thrown over him. It looks startlingly familiar, but different, bigger than he remembers, more toned.

Keith turns all the way around and comes face to face with Lance sleepily blinking his own eyes open.

A Fish And A Bird by Methoxyethane (1/1 | 13,141 | Teen And Up)

Lance has a boyfriend. Lance does not realize he has a boyfriend. Keith, understandably, does not react well.

On Thin Ice by anonimina (11/11 | 205,795 | Mature)

This multi-chapter fic chronicles the lives of a hockey player named Keith who gets enlisted into figure skating lessons by his brother, Shiro, to "work on his footwork". There he meets a pompous - yet talented - figure skater named Lance and gets swept away by both the sport and the skater.

Or: the not-so-simple story of two people trying to navigate the complexities of living in an ever changing world and face the traumas they've buried far away from the sunlight.

//anxiety

(shallura, hunk/shay)

bench press me by eggboi (1/1 | 1,683 | Teen And Up)

“The hell are you doing?” Keith grumbles out, body mid-push up. There’s a snicker behind him, too close to his ears, though Keith can’t really understand what would be so amusing about this. Then again, he’s not really sure why Lance is lying on him while he’s doing push ups either. Other than to be, of course, annoying.

“Nothing.” Lance finally says. Keith hears the grin in his voice, which only proves to irritate him a little more. ‘Nothing’ his ass. “Continue with what you’re doing, Mr. ‘I’m-Too-Good-For-Socialization’.”

(Lance, as always, tries to annoy Keith by making his exercise harder. It doesn’t work. At all.)

My Youth Is Yours by MilkTeaMiku (10/10 | 29,980 | General)

An unforseen blast in the middle of a battle de-ages Lance into a child for a week.

Keith does not understand babies.

#klance #voltron #vld #klance fic #klance fics #voltron fic #voltron fics #vld fic #vld fics #klance starter pack #klance fic starter pack

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1-800-smash · 4 years ago

Text

「 first time sexting. 」

feat. midoriya, bakugo, and todoroki.

summary: distance was never uncommon in your relationship, that would always come with dating a pro hero. but what would happen if one of you decided to spice things up while the other is away?

warnings: nsfw content.

[ all character’s are aged up appropriately. ]

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i really enjoyed this prompt, not all characters could avoid the awkwardness that is sexting for the first time *cough* todoroki *coughs harder* midoriya. anyways, i hope you like it! ♡ — shelbs.

submitted — [09.16.20]

nsfw under the cut.

⚘ midoriya looked nervously down at his phone, his face as red as the lipstick you were wearing in that scandalous photo you just sent him.

⚘ you were standing in front of your bathroom mirror at home, lips parted and eyes gleaming mischievously.

⚘ You had positioned yourself in front of the mirror with one finger outstretched to barely cover your nipples through the reflection, while the other hand which held your phone captured the same finger, only this time, with precise positioning of your arm, it now appeared to cover your naked lower half through the screen.

⚘ wish you were here ;)

⚘ midoriya.exe has stopped working.

⚘ he shook his head at an attempt to focus better as he tried desperately to think of a response.

⚘ the silence on his end made you smirk in satisfaction; you knew he had read your message and you delighted how easily you could render your boyfriend speechless.

⚘ i really wish i was home now.

⚘ it wasn’t a rare occurrence for your boyfriend to leave for extended periods of time for work trips, being the no. 1 pro hero wasn’t an easy job after all.

⚘ but right now, midoriya couldn’t wait for this work trip to be over.

⚘ ...and for his hard on to stop painfully rubbing against his boxers.

⚘ not yet satisfied with teasing your helpless boyfriend you decided to push the limit just a little bit more.

⚘ what would you do if you were?

⚘ and with that you have officially broken your boyfriend.

⚘ midoriya’s body felt too hot under his clothes and his mind was running miles a minute, all filled with images you two together in not so innocent positions.

⚘ he felt relieved that you sent him this while he was in his hotel room for the night, wasting no time trailing his hand all the way down his stomach, stopping just at the tent protruding from his boxers.

⚘ i would kiss you. he replied.

⚘ where?

⚘ he whined a little at your text, you kept making things so difficult for him.

⚘ his hand was now underneath the fabric of his boxers, slowly fisting his cock in a rhythm he was all too familiar with.

⚘ everywhere.

⚘ you grinned at his response, your own hand coming down to tease at your wet folds.

⚘ the hand that held your phone came down to snap a pic of just how dripping wet you were for him, your arousal glistening in the image from the flash going off.

⚘ do you want to kiss me here? you teased him.

⚘ god yes.

⚘ midoriya thrust into his hand sloppily, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept this up.

⚘ just then an idea went off in his head and he ripped his hand off his cock, already missing the sweet friction it had given him.

⚘ he pulled his boxers down his legs and held his phone up, bringing his hand back down to his length he pumped it once more, a bead of precum oozing from the tip as he squeezed his hand tighter.

⚘ he quickly took the photo and sent it before he continued his earlier ministrations.

⚘ is it ok if you kiss me here too? he asked.

⚘ midoriya drinks respect women juice.

⚘ oh i’ll do more than kiss it... ;)

⚘ it did not take him long to finish after he imagined your plump, velvety lips wrapped sinfully around his shaft, his cum spilling over onto his stomach with a heavy sigh.

⚘ god, he loved the things you did to him.

⚘ bakugo glanced down at his phone with a grunt of annoyance.

⚘ shitty woman... it was damn near midnight, why the hell were you texting him?

⚘ he didn’t think it was anything too important, otherwise you would have called him.

⚘ unlocking his phone, he was met with quite the surprise.

⚘ you sat naked on the bed in a tantalizing position, your phone catching your reflection through the mirror. you were all but naked except for the towel wrapped loosely around your waist and your hair was wet.

⚘ you must’ve just gotten out of the shower.

⚘ miss you ;)

⚘ you waited on the other end of the screen, your heart beating out of your chest at the anticipation.

⚘ it wasn’t like you hadn’t thought of doing this before but now with bakugo was gone for a work trip you couldn’t think of a better opportunity.

⚘ wtf are you doing y/n?

⚘ of course behind his cold, hard exterior, bakugo did like the pic you had sent.

⚘ like wasn’t enough, love was much closer, but he wasn’t going to admit that to you so easily, oh no.

⚘ you had to work for it.

⚘ i thought you would like it...

⚘ your chest hurt a little at thought of bothering him, he was probably tired after his trip and maybe it was just poor timing.

⚘ of course i like it dumbass, just send more pics already

⚘ you smiled inwardly at his message, but just like your stubborn boyfriend you wouldn’t be so easy to back down either.

⚘ idk... why should i send more when you haven’t even sent one back? that doesn’t seem like a fair trade katsuki...

⚘ bakugo cursed under his breath at your response, god why did you have to be such a fucking tease.

⚘ his cock strained against the fabric of his boxers, his hand leaving a hot trail against his skin until it stopped just at the hem.

⚘ his fingers made quick work of releasing his length from the tight confines of his boxers, hissing slightly when he felt it hit the cold air of the room.

⚘ bringing his phone down, he snapped a picture of his one hand wrapped tightly around the shaft of his cock, a bead of precum protruding from the tip.

⚘ here, dumbass... you’re lucky i’m not there right now.

⚘ you couldn’t help the mischievous glint in your eye as you read over his response, the picture he sent a familiar heat pooling between your thighs.

⚘ what would you do if you were?

⚘ you smiled cheekily down at the screen, you knew exactly what you were in for...

⚘ and you couldn’t wait.

⚘ i’d throw your legs over your head and finger fuck you until you squirt all over my fucking hands then pound pussy into the mattress.

⚘ the deep blush that tinted your cheeks made you feel too heated and your fingers began to wander down your body, burning a trail wherever they went.

⚘ is that a promise? you replied and set the phone down to tease yourself some more.

⚘ your nimble fingers slipped down and teasingly ran over your slick folds, you shuddered at the feeling as you continued to lazily stroke your clit.

⚘ a buzz from your phone caught your attention and your eyes took in every word of his response.

⚘ and don’t even think about fucking touching yourself until i get home, princess.

⚘ now, let me see that pretty pussy of yours... he continued.

⚘ shoto looked down at his phone screen, confusion clear on his features.

⚘ he could not wrap his head around why you were asking him for a picture at 12:08 at night.

⚘ he was pretty worn out from his flight and had only made it back to his hotel a few hours ago. he made sure to text you when he arrived and you two had texted back and forth for a little while.

⚘ shoto knew how badly you missed him whenever he left on work trips but he didn’t expect you to miss him so soon.

⚘ he took a quick pic of himself lying in bed, his hair was tousled and his eyes looked tired but he still managed to form the barest hints of a smile for you.

⚘ of course, you would’ve loved to see your boyfriend’s cute face any other day but right now all you could focus on was his bare, toned chest cut off at the bottom of the photo.

⚘ you giggled at how he misread your flirty text of send me pic, sexy ;) for wanting an innocent, non x-rated, photo.

⚘ regardless, you did save the picture he sent anyway because i mean, come on your boyfriend is adorable, why wouldn’t you?

⚘ you decided to move things in the right direction by sending a picture of your own.

⚘ you discarded your shirt and set your phone on the bed to take a photo. one of your hands came up to toy with your breast while the other explored the inside of your lacy panties.

⚘ your phone’s photo timer went off and you quickly had the picture sent to your boyfriend’s phone, followed by maybe something more like this?

⚘ shoto stared at the risque photo and it almost seemed as if a light bulb went off in his head.

⚘ he could feel his cock start to get hard at the thought of sending you something like what you had shown him.

⚘ which he loved, by the way.

⚘ only issue was shoto had zero experience with these types of things.

⚘ did you want a picture of his dick? he had no idea.

⚘ he thought that would be too much, so he opted instead to take photo in front of the hotel’s bathroom mirror. the brightness bothered his eyes as he turned the light switch on so he could see.

⚘ he cupped his erection with one hand and took the photo with his other, trying to look at least somewhat casual as he did so.

⚘ he hit send followed by the question of is this ok?

⚘ oh it’s more than ok, babe ;)

⚘ however, you still weren’t quite satisfied. the heat pooling between your legs at the very thought of swapping naughty texts with your boyfriend.

⚘ you are by far the sexiest person to exist, holy fuck babe.

⚘ i can’t wait to for you to come home so i can run my tongue all over your hard cock...

⚘ shoto’s face flushed pink at your words as he kneaded his cock through his sweatpants.

⚘ he couldn’t deny how much he wanted you here with him right now, making you scream his fucking name as he pounded relentlessly into aching cunt.

⚘ it took him a moment to realize how dirty his thoughts had become and it made him chuckle at how easily you got inside his head the way you did.

⚘ his pulled his sweats off of his body as he walked back towards the bed, his hand leaving teasing strokes down his length.

⚘ god, he missed you.

⚘ i really need you right now (y/n).

⚘ it took him about 5 seconds to facetime you. it almost caught you off guard, a moan escaping your lips at the way your fingers played with your dripping wet pussy.

⚘ your lips twisted into sinful delight at your boyfriend’s impatience, your hands slipping back down to tease your swollen clit at the thought of him wanting to see you so bad.

⚘ when you answered the phone you were greeted with shoto’s needy expression, his face flushed pink and his lips parted deliciously.

⚘ “show me how much you want me...” you purred.

⚘ shoto wasted no time in showing just how much he missed you, his cock coming into view on the screen.

⚘ you couldn’t wait to see him come undone soon.

#midoriya izuku #midoriya x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #todoroki shoto #todoroki x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha x reader #my hero academia #mha #mha x reader

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riversofmars · 3 years ago

Text

We Don’t Have to Use Words Part 1/2

Back even though no-one asked for it: me writing more Liv and Helen. :D

One thing I'll say, please don't be mad at me over Tania. I love her, I really do and I want her to be happy, but I would prefer Liv to end up with Helen, that's all. And I really hope i handled the issue well enough. Neither Liv nor Helen are intending to hurt her, okay? I hope that comes across.

After Helen spends the day hearing about how their neighbours Ron and Tony got together, she confides in Liv about her gay brother. Things had changed so much since the time she grew up in, but some things were still difficult to say. Particularly when she was only coming to terms with those things herself. As they continue their conversation, both women consider their feelings towards each other.

Rating: G

AO3 Link

Part 1

“Am I still a mystery to you as well, Miss Sinclair?“ Liv followed Helen into the kitchen. They were alone in their flat at 107 Baker Street, the Doctor was still out.

“Very much so.“ Helen chuckled as she filled the kettle with water, relaxing a little as the conversation turned less serious. “You build walls around yourself like a fortress.“ She flicked the kettle on to boil while retrieving two mugs from the cupboard. It had become a ritual of sorts between them. They used to do it on the TARDIS too, unwinding over a cuppa after an adventure. Old habits die hard.

“I’m sorry.“ Liv said and Helen looked around, confused at how serious she sounded. The look on her face revealed the damage the off-hand comment had caused.

“That’s not… I didn’t mean that as a criticism…“ Helen back peddled quickly. Liv had given much more weight to her words than she had intended. It hadn’t been an accusation, just a fact. Liv always kept her cards close to her chest and that was just fine. Helen sat the mugs down quickly. Liv looked genuinely hurt, she was biting her lip, evidently considering her response.

“I’m not keeping you out, you know me better than anyone else.“ Liv said, her words strained as if she was trying to swallow frustration and hurt but couldn’t quite manage it.

“Oh no! That’s not what I meant! I don’t… we are the best of friends, Liv, of course I know you and I don’t feel like you’re keeping me at arms length.“ Helen reached out quickly and took Liv’s hand that had become a clenched fist in her jumper. “You’re just a private person and that’s fine. Like I said some things are just not… easy to talk about.“ She gave her a pleading smile, hoping she would understand that she wasn’t meaning to hurt her. Liv’s hand relaxed in her own and Helen was relieved. The kettle turned itself off as the water had finished boiling and Helen looked around. Saved by the bell! “Maybe you were right, we don’t have to use words, making a cup of tea for someone can say just as much…“

It was the way they did things. Those things were signs of a firm friendship. Doing things for each other. Spending time together. They didn’t always need to talk about deep and meaningful things. They had done their share of that for tonight and Helen was keen to move on from that. Her own words, the things she had revealed, were still echoing in her mind. She looked to Liv who was watching her, her expression unreadable, and she hoped she hadn’t revealed too much. The day had brought a lot of emotions to the surface already and she couldn’t bear to think she had made things more complicated with Liv, too.

Helen busied herself making tea, distracting herself from the heavy silence that had suddenly fallen between them. She felt Liv’s eyes on her and wondered how much of what she had said before was still playing on her mind as well.

“You know what else says a hell of a lot?“ Liv’s voice drew her attention and Helen looked around, surprised to find her standing right behind her.

Liv reached up and took her face in her hands, pressing a firm kiss to her lips. Helen froze up and grabbed on to the edge of the work surface behind her, giving her hands something to do other than pulling Liv Chenka close. Her brain couldn’t catch up with what was happening. Liv’s lips were soft and warm against her own, gentle pressure, not demanding but not without desire either. It was even better than she had imagined.

The kiss ended all too soon and Helen just blinked at Liv, perplexed. Liv, for her part, looked up at Helen unsure, seemingly wondering if she had made a terrible mistake. Her lack of response was more telling than anything else.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t…“ Quickly, Liv took a step back, retreating to a safe distance. She clenched her hands to fists again, tense and angry with herself.

“Liv…“ Helen found her voice at last, snapping out of her trance. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She felt panic rising inside her, her chest tightening, at the prospect of an impossible choice. She had wondered what it would be like to kiss her best friend, there was no denying that. She was brave enough to admit to herself that that was something she had wanted for a long time. Was it right though? For either of them?

“Did I… misread the… what you said earlier, I assumed…“ Liv struggled for words, she blushed deeply, she averted her eyes and grabbed the edge of her jumper more tightly.

“Yes! I mean, no…“ Helen didn’t know what to say. “What…“

“I thought you meant… when you said you were jealous and…“ The words burst out of Liv like a waterfall of justification, but almost an accusation as well: “And when you said some things weren’t easy to say, I thought you meant…“

“I didn’t, I was talking about Albie and… besides you’re with… Tania and…“ Helen exclaimed, avoidance seemed to be the safest option. She stood to lose so much. She couldn't risk it just because she had gotten emotional.

“That’s why I said, love doesn’t run to a schedule, this might be bad timing but…“ Liv’s voice turned more desperate. Had they both completely misunderstood the other? “I like Tania a lot but we’re just starting out and she’s not…“ Liv felt a twinge of guilt, of course she did, but honesty was the best policy, surely. She had started this so she had to follow through.

“What?“ Helen couldn’t keep up. She was confused.

“She’s not you!“ Liv exclaimed. “If I’d known…“

“Well, uh… you’re… wrong. I’m not… I was just…“ Helen was beginning to panic. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t be the reason her friend broke off a promising relationship when she, herself, was still struggling to come to terms with them. She had no experience in this. Liv had been right. She had never talked about relationships much because it had never been of much interest to her. She should just carry on like that. It would be easiest for everyone.

“Oh…“ Liv’s face fell, Helen’s words hit like a punch in the gut, leaving her winded and disoriented.

“Sorry.“ Helen’s heart broke over the look on her best friend’s face. Did she really feel for her so strongly that her rejection would hurt her so much? Quickly Helen reached out, grabbed her arm before Liv could bolt as she was sure she was about to. “You’re… my best friend and… you’re brave and kind and intelligent and… beautiful, you…“ Helen so badly wanted to undo the damage her words had done.

“So what’s the problem?“ Liv shot back, angry. It didn’t happen often that she would share her heart with anyone and the rejection stung more than she could have imagined.

“I don’t know I… I didn’t even consider that I might… And then you turn up and you’re all confident and strong and, I’m not like that.“ Helen shook her head, hoping Liv would understand. Maybe she couldn’t find the right words to say it but surely she knew her well enough to grasp her meaning.

“You’re the strongest woman I know.“ Liv retorted and her tone was a strange mixture of accusatory and encouraging.

“Don’t make fun of me.“ Helen huffed and let go of Liv’s hand. She could deal with her being hurt and angry with her but she didn’t appreciate her making fun of her.

“I’m not.“ Liv replied, affronted that she would even think that was her intention.

“You can’t joke about these things with me, Liv. I can’t do that. I never… “ Helen shook her head.

“I am not joking. Is that what you think this is, that I’m trying to see if I can push your buttons?“ Liv demanded to know, frustrated. “I know how hard this is for you, I can tell.“ She shrugged and laughed at how ridiculous a conversation they were having. Fighting over something that shouldn’t be a disagreement at all: “And I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t think you felt the same way. You said as much earlier!“

“I didn’t know what I was saying, it just came out, I was just trying to make sense of everything and…“ Helen didn’t know how to explain. She couldn’t work it out, it was too big, too complicated to comprehend.

“Then let me help you do just that.“ Liv’s expression softened.

Maybe she could see how much she was struggling, Helen thought. Maybe she could forgive her.

Liv took Helen’s arms that she had hugged protectively around herself and pulled them apart. She ran her hands down her arms until they came to rest around Helen’s trembling fingers. She was trembling all over. “You want to know something that’s easy to say?“ Liv asked softly and Helen averted her eyes, she couldn’t stand the pity she found reflected back at her. “I love you.“ Liv said simply and without hesitation. “See, it’s the most fundamental thing between two people, the most human thing… I love you . You can say it as easily as that.“

“Liv…“ Helen couldn’t look at her, her eyes blurred, her voice became choked up. Liv couldn't even have meant it like that. She was just giving an example about how easily one could talk about their feelings. And yet, the effect those words had on her was profound.

“No, Helen, listen, please.“ Liv could tell that she was about to protest but she couldn’t let her. “I know this isn’t easy for you, I understand, but you can’t let the past dictate your future. This is not the 1960s anymore.“ She gave her hands a tight squeeze. She saw the tears gathering in her best friend's eyes.

“That’s not what it’s about.“ Helen tried to clear her throat but it only made her sound more upset.

“Then what?“ Liv asked. She let go of her hands and cupped her face instead, brushing away her tears with her thumbs. “Help me here, Helen, cause I really want to know.“ She whispered.

“It’s just, I can’t 'cause… timing and…“ Helen gave a desperate little chuckle. Why couldn't she have realised this before now? Any time really. It had been there for so long. Maybe even since the day Liv and the Doctor had broken into her office at the National Museum, she just hadn’t realised it at the time. She had thought about her when they had been split up from them, when she had been with the Eleven on Rykerzon and thought she would never see them again. She had noticed how much she liked being with Liv when they had been on Kaldor. She had accepted she couldn’t be without her in Salzburg. She had spent a lifetime to save her and the Doctor and Liv had spent her one wish on saving her in turn. They had sat together reading fairy tales to each other, held each other close… and yet, none of it had been enough to help her understand herself. Not truly, until today.

“Stop being silly.“ Liv interrupted her thoughts, almost as if she could hear them. “I love you, Helen Sinclair.“ She said, looking into her eyes to make sure she'd heard her. “There, I said it. Easiest thing in the world. And I would have told you sooner if I thought I stood a snowball’s chance in hell that you like me back.“ Liv laughed at how ridiculous a notion it seemed. “But you never said, Helen, you never said . You never spoke of any interest at all, interest in anyone, so I assumed that ruled me out as well.“

“And you didn’t think that maybe my past was holding me back?“ Helen said, barely audible.

“Have I or the Doctor ever given you reason to think we wouldn’t accept you, however, whatever you did?“ Liv asked, incredulous.

“No, of course not…“ Helen shook her head a little without looking at her.

“Then what is holding you back?“ Liv asked softly, stroking more stray tears off her pale cheeks.

“Well, you’re… dating now…“ Helen mumbled and Liv sighed, feeling that twinge of guilt again. Helen was right, the timing was terrible. She had been seeing Tania. Lovely, kind Tania. She didn’t want to hurt her. But they were just starting out, they were still getting to know each other whereas Helen… well, she was Helen . The person dearest to her in the whole universe. She loved Helen, simple as that. She had done so for a very long time but never considered the feeling might be mutual. But now that she did, what was she to do? Should they carry on like nothing had happened? Never speak of it again? Would Liv be able to forgive herself if she let it all go? And allowed things to get more serious with Tania? She liked her and perhaps, in time, she would grow to love her, but could she ever love her as much as she already loved Helen?

“Tania is great, she really is. But you wouldn’t believe the amount of times she has asked about our relationship. I'll talk to her tomorrow and she will understand. We only just met. But the fact of the matter is, Helen, that I’m in love with you.“ Liv said slowly, considering her words. At the end of the day, it was as easy as that. She leaned forward and kissed the tears off her cheeks. “I love how kind and considerate you are. Your quiet strength, your intelligence, your determination, your selflessness and your compassion.“ She punctuated every quality with a kiss. “You make me want to be better, be more like you, I admire you.“

“Oh Liv.“ Helen sobbed, her words only causing her to cry more. “Just stop!“ She blushed deeply, embarrassed by her compliments.

“No, I won’t stop. Not until you realise just how much you mean to me. How serious I am. How much I want you.“ Liv smirked a little, sensing she was wearing down her defences at last.

“Oh shut up.“ Helen leaned forward and silenced her the only way she knew how. The kiss was wet and sloppy with tears but she could feel Liv smiling against her lips, relieved and maybe even a little bit smug. Helen pulled back and wrapped her arms around her. She rested her forehead against hers. “I love you, Liv Chenka.“ The words came to her easier than she thought possible.

“Did I also mention how much I love the way my name rolls off your tongue?“ Liv smirked sheepishly and Helen laughed, her tears drying at last.

“Is that so?“ She chuckled.

“Most definitely.“ Liv nodded eagerly, biting her lip nervously, as if she was going to say something but thought better of it.

“What are you thinking?“ Helen eyed her curiously, she knew her well enough to spot her hesitation instantly.

“Oh it’s nothing.“ Liv let go of her and reached past her for the mug on the work surface. “Best have this before it gets cold…“

“Liv!“ Helen exclaimed, playfully offended at her attention wandering. She didn’t appreciate the teasing. “What were you going to say? What were you thinking?“

“You really want to know?“ Liv asked, taking a sip of the tea, eyeing Helen over the rim of the mug. The tea was rather cold and much too strong as Helen had forgotten to take the tea bag out. She sat the mug down disappointedly.

“As it clearly relates to me. Yes!“ Helen playfully crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I was imagining how much I will enjoy hearing you say my name when we’re in bed together.“ Liv answered with a smirk. She had asked. She brought her hands to Helen’s hips, holding her so she couldn’t bolt.

“Liv!“ Helen exclaimed, mortified, blushing scarlet red, though her words made her feel hot all over, not just in her cheeks.

“Thought it might be too soon, but you asked.“ Liv chuckled in amusement. She couldn’t help herself, she pushed her hands up a little, just under the hem of Helen’s blouse.

“Honestly that’s…“ Helen cleared her throat, averting her eyes, refusing to meet Liv’s piercing gaze.

“What?“ Liv tilted her head playfully. She wasn’t usually one for teasing but Helen’s reaction was wonderful and her proximity was intoxicated. “You think I haven’t thought about it?“ Liv hummed, running her fingertips along her waistline.

“Well, I…“ Helen didn’t have words. She couldn’t think.

“Haven’t you?“ Liv asked leaning closer, pressing her body to Helen’s.

“I… I…“ Helen swallowed hard, her heart was pounding and she felt a strange sort of pull in her gut that she couldn’t remember feeling before, at least not like this. She’d had sex before and she had enjoyed it but she had never felt that burning desire that people spoke of. That fiery passion… she was getting so hot under her collar now, she realised that maybe she had been missing out.

And then, Liv kissed her. Not like before. Not tentative and soft and loving, Gods no . This kiss was so very much like Liv herself: Confident, demanding, passionate, strong. And Helen leaned into it. She kissed her back with equal favour or at least tried to. Liv pushed her tongue inside her mouth and Helen moaned, it was intoxicating, she was making her head spin.

Helen pushed her hands into Liv’s hair for something to hold on to and Liv pulled back, just for a moment. She searched her face for clues, to find out how she was feeling. Was she going too fast? Was this too much? Did Helen even want her to kiss her like that ?

“I’m okay.“ Helen could read the questions in her eyes before the med-tech could voice it. She nodded encouragingly, slightly out of breath but eager to keep going. It was liberating. They had danced around each other for so long, she had taken this long to understand what her feelings even meant, she didn't want to wait any longer to delve into them. “Keep going.“

Liv ran her tongue along her lips that had suddenly turned very dry. She had been teasing Helen, that had been her only intention and kissing her like that, that was something else. Was she really suggesting what she thought she was? As previously proven, they had been known to miscommunicate on occasion.

“You… uh… you mean…“

“I uh…“ Helen blushed deeply when she realised the weight of her words. Was this a good idea? It wasn’t like they had just met and were acting irrationally. They had known each other for a lifetime. Perhaps she wasn’t thinking clearly but who could blame her with Liv Chenka standing so close to her. And there was that pull in the pit of her stomach…

“Liv? Helen?“ A voice called out as the door to the flat opened and they both froze.

“Oh God… It’s the Doctor…“ Helen breathed and Liv quickly put a few paces between them, just in time for the Doctor to stick his head around the door. “Ahh there you are. Had a nice day?“

“Yup, all good.“ Liv forced a smile and Helen nodded quickly:

“Yeah. Brilliant.“

“Great. Is there a cuppa for me?“ The Doctor asked, making his way over to them, eyeing the mugs on the work surface.

“You may need to boil the kettle again. Tea's got cold…“ Liv said, awkwardly folding her arms in front of her chest. She glanced at Helen, wondering what she wanted to do and Helen looked back at her helplessly.

“What are you doing drinking cold tea?“ The Doctor, meanwhile, was absolutely oblivious to their silent exchange.

“I’ve suddenly come over really tired, I might have to head off to bed. How about you, Helen?“ Liv said, giving a little nod towards the door.

“I uh… yeah, actually, been quite the day…“ Helen started nodding, catching her intention.

“What? You don’t even want to know what I’ve been up to?“ The Doctor asked, looking around confused as he filled the kettle with water.

“Maybe tomorrow? I don’t think I have the capacity to focus on one of your stories now…“ Liv gave him an apologetic smile. That certainly was no lie… When she looked at Helen, the prospect of what they could be doing right now was clouding her mind.

“You know the funniest thing happened when we were in the past, like someone trying to send an SOS across the time streams…“ The Doctor carried on but neither of them was really listening.

“Fascinating.“ Liv was halfway to the door already and Helen followed quickly.

“Maybe tomorrow.“

“Am I missing something?“ The Doctor called after them but didn’t get a response. He shrugged and turned back to make his tea.

#doctor who #fanfiction #liv chenka #Helen Sinclair #Liv/Helen #Liv Cheka x Helen Sinclair #femslash #fluff #romance #mild angst #Eighth doctor #UNIT dating #Stranded 2 #doom coalition #Ravenous #big finish

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askbohemiancompany · 4 years ago

Text

A Moment of Calm

It had been a week for the two lovers. The water park had been far more eventful than either planned. Between Grohl’s unforgettable debut, mutual lusting over beach babes and their mild argument, there was way more than they could have foreseen.

“We met quite a number of nice mons there.” Brittany chimed in after both said nothing for when they got on the subway to get back home. “I hope we see Jade and Crewel again.”

Lenox, who gave herself the duty of carrying the towels since their bag broke, smiled and nodded. What she was also thinking was Brittany’s ignorance of the criminal world that in the worst case scenario could lead to a farmer and the seviper scenario.

“Yeah I hope to see Crewel again too.” The hawlucha did not even want to get into Jade’s current occupation with Brittany now. Too much of a headache.

At the station they were to meet up with Gwen who would rendezvous with them to escort Brittany back to her apartment. The timing of which was still around when Gwen went to bury Floyd. Not only that Gwen wanted to personally be the escort which was odd since it was usually Freddy or Grohl.

Their train stopped and the doors opened. Both women could not see Gwen, but she was probably hidden among the crowd due to her size.

“Hey.”

In the distance both mons saw a gothitelle walking towards them. Neither had been around when Gwen evolved and none of the other staff members told them about Gwen evolving. To the couple’s surprise Gwen looked like it did not fit her personality. She was wearing clothes for one but lacked any of her chaotic energy that she used to have. Lenox figured that part was due to not being long since she buried Floyd.

“Hey Gwen. You uh, look great.” Lenox stammered, still surprised at the mon before her.

“Thanks.” Gwen took a cigarette from her coat pocket and put it in her mouth. Before she could light it, she noticed Brittany staring at her in astonishment. The roserade was likely mystified for how different the psychic looked especially since Gwen never had to wear clothes before now.

Having misread the stare, Gwen put the cigarette back in its pack. “Alright let's go.”

How Gwen was acting disheartened Lenox. Had she been in higher spirits, Gwen would have milked the love birds’ reactions. She must have both been tired from flying to Johto as well as the whole affair of burying her mentor.

A few minutes after and a 15 minute time frame of no one talking Brittany finally spoke up. “Uh Gwen. Congrats on evolving. You look really pretty.”

Turning to face the grass type Gwen just sighed. “Thanks. Figured it was about time.” Sounding tired, Gwen kept reaching instinctively for her cigarettes, only to stop herself every so often. “Wearing clothes is new to me. Then again I have been wearing this all the time so that’s pretty easy.

“Wait hold on. You have worn that since you evolved?” Brittany said.

“Yeah.”

“How long have you been evolved for?”

“Two weeks.”

“So you have been wearing the same top for 2 weeks?”

“That bad?”

The pregnant pause that followed with both girls looking stunned. The stench that had to be coming from the jacket from Brittany’s knowledge on the situation must be unbearable to anyone else. Considering Gwen’s habits for drinking and smoking it was likely she neglected washing her clothes either. This sounded like the Gwen she knew for sure.

“How many clothes do you have?” Brittany at this point was pushing it as far as Lenox could tell. Gwen was, and seemed like, she was still grieving Floyd’s death.

“Brittany please.” Lenox put her arm on the roserade’s shoulder to try and stop her from talking further.

“Just this jacket for now. And I do wash my clothes every 3 days. It’s a work in progress.” To the hawlucha’s shock, Gwen was not getting angry. She still seemed out of it, but the psychic was at least responding to Brit’s comments.

“That settles it! We need to do some clothing shopping. You, me and Lenox should shop together and get some clothes for all of us.”

‘Why did Brittany have to drag me into this?’ Was the first thing that Lenox thought. The second thought would be put into words a moment later. “Brit please. Now is not the time.”

“Sure.”

Lenox stared at Gwen. ‘Did she just agree to go shopping with Brittany and herself?’ Only way Gwen would say that is if she were intoxicated, not paying attention or out of it. When they get back to the base Lenox was going to talk one on one with Gwen to see what was wrong.

“Great! Len will get in touch with me to see the best time for the three of us!” Brittany sounded chipper over the whole ordeal. The hawlucha gave a smile in return, but it was a false one.

“Ok that’s fine.” The gothitelle said in her drained tone.

----

Meanwhile at the base camp.

“Mariah no. This idea is outrageous. Everyone in this building hates his guts. If he stays here it is just going to rile everyone up.” Freddy snapped.

“It will only be a temporary ordeal. After a month I will have him off in witness protection. After that he will be out of here. Besides I need to keep this from under the top brass’ nose given their oversight in this operation.” Mariah blew off his concern.

“Look. If he stays here I am not sure he will be able to testify for the trial. You know how badly Weather and especially Lenox will take him being here.”

“That is your responsibility not mine. We know you have a room for him to stay in. If it will give you incentive I will give you an under the table payment to make it easier.”

#plot #lenox the hawlucha #gwen #gwen the gothitelle #brittany the roserade #Freddy the Toxicroak #Mariah the Greninja

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vivilove-jonsa · 5 years ago

Note

For the dialogue prompt. If you are still taking them. "Don't you dare walk away from me!"

Hello, my dear! Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like it :)

“Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

Sansa cringes at the harsh command but is she really surprised? She’s been ridiculing him for nearly fifteen minutes straight, unconcerned with the presence of an outsider. Who talks to their sweetheart this way? Are they really sweethearts? They seem more like enemies begrudgingly meeting for peace talks. Robb had said she’d done the proposing which is fine but why has Jon agreed to marry her?

She doesn’t want to watch this but it’s hard to avoid considering the position she’s in, on her knees at the foot of Bridezilla. Sansa’s a seamstress and she’d agreed to make the dress alterations.

Unfortunately, she’s seen this before in her line of work. Some people really get a little too wrapped up in wedding hysteria and less desirable facets of their personality come out. She had hoped Robb’s old friend might’ve chosen better for himself but Sansa will admit she’s made some poor choices herself in the past.

At least, I never got close to walking down the aisle with Harry or Joffrey though.

She’s not so sure Jon will make it to the sept in six weeks either based on the way his jaw’s been clenched throughout this visit.

She has a good feel for these things by now. She’d not like his fiancée from the moment he’d introduced her and she predicts the marriage won’t last a year even if they make it through the wedding.

She can’t blame him for having had enough of this today. Better to walk out and cool off until she calms down and they can talk like adults maybe. The last time she’d witness a tantrum quite like this, Rickon had been three.

He pauses with his back to them, his shoulders slumped. She wishes he’d walk on through the door but knows he may very well bite his lip and turn around.

She won’t make you happy in the long run. I wouldn’t mind trying though.

Sansa bites at her own lip for that. She has no right to think such things. He’s engaged and she’s just the woman altering the wedding gown. Well, she’s more than that. He’s Robb’s old friend but maybe he’s her friend, too. He’s been coming around the flat a lot since they reconnected a couple of months ago. Still, he’s engaged. So what if he’s handsome and friendly and makes her smile like no other guy has in a long while?

“Jon Snow,” his bride-to-be says in a threatening tone, “if you walk out that door, we are through. Do you hear me?”

He turns and Sansa tries to mask her sigh, certain he’s giving in. But his eyes aren’t on the woman in yards of ivory lace. They’re on her.

“I’m sorry for you having to witness this, Sansa, and I’ll compensate you for your work.” His eyes flicker up to the woman he was planning to marry with a cold look. “I hear you and we’re through. I’m definitely done with this farce of a relationship. You can keep the ring if you like but I won’t be marrying you.” He then turns around and walks out the door.

Stunned, Sansa’s face flushes embarrassment on behalf of them both but a small little part of that flush might be a wicked little jolt of…something. She’s probably horrible for feeling pleased by this and by the fact that he spoke to her first.

Several seconds pass before Bridezilla gasps with shock. Apparently, it took that long for it to sink in that he actually left and what his words mean.

“I’ll just, um…” Furious. There’s no other word for the glare she receives and Sansa nearly recoils in fear. “I’ll give you the room,” Sansa murmurs before standing.

But before she can scurry to her sewing room in the back and hope that Jon Snow’s fiancée ex-fiancée will be gone when she returns (even if she’s still wearing a wedding dress with dozens of pins in the hem), Bridezilla says, “He never shuts up about you.”

“I…what?”

She says nothing else, just shoves her way past Sansa and leaves without another word and Sansa’s left there to agonize over those words all afternoon…but not indefinitely.

“I knew it was a mistake,” Jon tells her later right before closing time when he comes back with his checkbook and a lemon cake for her from her favorite bakery.

“Then, why were you doing it?” Sansa asks, failing to completely contain her moan as she takes her first bite after waving off his money. “Gods, this is good.”

He grins, his dark eyes flashing at that moan, damn him. Then, he considers his answer to her question. “I don’t know. Clearly, I know nothing just like she always tells me.”

“That’s not true. You know stuff, Jon.”

“Thanks. I guess we’d been together for a good while and, when she asked me to get married, I thought maybe that would make things better again…more like they were at the start.”

“Things haven’t been good for a while then?”

“No, it’s been a bad six months. Maybe longer. I’d been on the verge of suggesting a break right before she popped the question but hesitated because…” He scrubs at his beard.

“Because?”

“I feel like a coward but she gets so angry and hateful.”

“Yikes. I had a boyfriend like that once.” His eyes narrow dangerously, nearly making her laugh. “Over a long time ago but I’m sorry for you. It can be difficult walking away. I don’t think you’re a coward. Sooner or later, you managed to break it off.”

“Yeah. Anyway, thanks for listening to me.” He starts to rise from where he’s been sitting beside her in the quiet shop but then pauses and slowly takes her hand. “Sansa, I just want you to know that seeing you again after all these years and hanging out together has been, um…special to me.”

‘He never shuts up about you.’ She swallows hard. “Me, too.” I never shut up about you either. Hadn’t Jeyne teased her about that other day?

He gives her a sheepish grin, releasing her hand. “I’d better go.”

She nods but then can’t help but ask, “Did you have some place to be tonight?”

“Not really. I mean, I suppose I’d better find out how much of my stuff has been thrown out on the sidewalk.”

“Oof. Do you need a place to stay?”

What is she doing? He just broke up with his fiancée. He’ll need time and inviting him to stay is too forward perhaps. He’s a friend. I wouldn’t want him alone in some motel or whatever tonight.

“Thanks but I didn’t give up my apartment. I guess that might’ve been my subconscious wanting to keep a way out.”

Probably so. She doesn’t say it. “Well, if you’re hungry and want to watch me eat something other than lemon cake, you could come by for dinner.” His eyes widen and she panics. “I mean, anytime. Not tonight…unless you…whenever. Sometime soon maybe.” Gods, she’s feeling like an idiot.

But he doesn’t look at her like she’s an idiot. He looks pleased. “I may take you up on that sometime soon.”

And, he does.

Dinner together a week later and then the following week. It becomes a weekly habit, dinner with Jon Snow. Jeyne’s still teasing her but she says they’re just friends. He still needs time and they might need time to be more.

Maybe not too long though.

Before long, he’s over more often than he’s not and maybe things are changing between them. The rediscovered friendship and the tenuous other thing between them is blossoming and Sansa couldn’t be happier.

And one night, a two months after he would’ve been a married man, Jon shows up at her apartment with a lemon cake and a bottle of wine and she knows tonight would be a good night to cross that boundary from friendship to more.

He’d offered to clean up the kitchen after dinner so she’d slipped off to her room, the wine giving her a boost of courage. There’s no mistaking the fire in his eyes lately when they’re alone but he’s held back from making a move. Sansa thinks he needs a little push.

She emerges from the bedroom wearing something considerably slinkier than the flannel pajama bottoms and comfy tees she usually wears when they settle on her couch to watch movies on nights like this.

“Sansa…”

His eyes are round and his mouth keeps moving but no other words come out. He’s looking her up and down. He gulps and his mouth starts moving again with no words. It’s pretty damn cute…until he turns away towards the door.

“Jon?” Her chin starts to tremble. Has she misread everything so badly? Is he not interested in the things she’s interested in? Is he going to leave her standing here when she’s never said one hateful thing to him?

Don’t you dare walk away from me.

She almost sobs those words until he shoots a mischievous grin over his shoulder and her lips are immediately quirking into an answering one, all her insecurities flying away like sparks from a bonfire.

That mischievous grin becomes a smoldering look when he’s standing half way between her kitchen and the hallway. “I’m just going to make sure your front door’s locked, sweetheart.”

“My front door?”

“Yeah.” His voice drops into a husky tone smooth as fine liquor and just as heady. “Because once I kiss you, I don’t plan on stopping and I promise you’ll have a very hard time getting rid of me.”

She has no desire to ever get rid of him.

#jonsa fanfiction #jonsa #tigernach575 #dialogue prompt #vivilove-jonsa fic

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katsukikitten · 5 years ago

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Weighted

A/N @zbops for you bb as per your request. I hope that this lives up to at least half of your expectations. Thank you so much for supporting me and for encouraging me. Enjoy it and may it help you just a bit more. I send my love XOXO Kitten 💋

It was not unlike you to occasionally stay up late into the night. Late enough to see the moon rise high in the inky black sky watching the constellations move by at a lazy pace.

But to lie awake long enough to greet the sun was abnormal.

At least it was supposed to be abnormal now. Before it was your normal to lose sleep as fat droplets slid from unblinking eyes. Thoughts consuming you with nothing and everything at once.

You thought yourself better.

Not cured, not immune, but well.

Fine and level headed for once.

Yet here you lie again unable to will your exhausted body to sleep as you replay failures from pasted years.

Like an old film one must study to improve but every time it is rewatched another haunting flaw jumps out.

And there is nothing you can do to right your wrong.

Frustrated tears well in your eyes now as you watch the clock for the second week in a row burn an obnoxious 3 am into your retina.

Furious as you thought you had put this problem in its place. That you had long ago learned how to make your demon small and to lock it away.

As with everything in life it adapted, slipping through the bars of its cage only to find itself looming over you once more. Delighting in your anguish as it exploits the coping mechanism you developed.

Turning it on its head to haunt you, to hurt you. To put you in your place as you thought you did it.

Although it knows this will be enough to pain you, it wants to do more.

Truly a petty being as it steals your voice, worming into your head just to whisper.

"Did you really think a few extra hours of training a day would make a difference? That you would suddenly be sought after as a pro hero? You could barely get an apprenticeship and look at how you're failing at that!"*

This dredges up your failure from last week, your first offical mission as apprentice.

What was supposed to be a normal patrol quickly unraveled into a full on street brawl.

You aided your hero holding down the perpetrators bodies with your quirk, straining to keep them in place.

There were tenty or so overpowered drug enhanced strength quirks fighting the pull you placed on them.

Your arm pangs now, reminding you of how it threatened to snap beneath the own weight of your quirk.

"Useless." Its laugh echoes in your ear.

Your temper flares, fist smashing the small black box that mocks you with the time before you rise. Dressing into your training clothes, sliding on your weighted vest as your bruises groan against it. You push your already consistent 1.5 times Earth's gravity pull to a consistent 2.5 for now.

Hands grab for your phone and headphones before fumbling to find your key in your amassed returning symptoms. Throwing piles of clothes, books, and homework onto other piles of long neglected items.

Irritation mixed with a twinge of panic sets in as you look for your FOB that accesses not only the gym you are so desperate to use but also it accesses your dorm building as your dorm room key rests on a chain around your neck. Your memory works overtime as you wonder where it could have been placed.

Was it it Kirishima's room?

Or Bakugou's?

Who's room did the three of you spend the night in last?

You cannot remember, time all runs together much like a watercolor painting caught in the rain.

Colors bleed and the world dips into sun bleached greys as you think of the two of them.

Had you even texted either of them good night?

When was the last time you told them you loved them?

You pick up your phone, bloomed bruised hand winking back at you before the phone obliterates into metal and glass confetti at your feet.

"Fuck." You hiss having forgotten that you had the gravitational pull around your hands as well. Damning yourself for being so careless although you are still careless enough to walk over the shrapnel with bare feet.

It is then you find your key FOB lying in the middle of the chaotic room which you snatch greedily before locking your post nuclear bomb room away.

And with that the thoughts of ash blonde and ruby red hair.

You slink on guilty feet in the shadows of the hall, the moon your only witness as you make your way outside.

The air is cool agaisnt your heated skin, hinting that fall is almost over. That winter will be sure to rear its ugly head and harshly at that.

As if to prove a point an icy wind cuts through your skin deep into your bones, you sigh out upping the force on your body.

The gym is a short walk from the dorm, the night caressing you with soft fingers as it guides you to the thick metal door.

A worried gulp echoes back at you as your hand hovers just before the panel. FOB just out of range to be scanned.

Last time a student was on rest probation their key could only work if Sensei scanned theirs as well.

With gritted teeth you bring the key to kiss smooth plastic. For a moment you're sure it will flash red but when it beeps with a flash of glorious green you cannot help the small smile that spreads across your lips.

They must have forgotten to add those restrictions to yours, that or they didn't think you would disobey your physical therapist and other Sensei.

It doesn't take long before you're sweating.

And the more you swing the harder you make the gravitational pull on your body. The floor groans from the pressure as you push the pull towards you beyond limits for a recovering body, 3.5 times Earth's normal pull. Sweat slides down a bruised nape and drips into now stinging eyes.

You do little to alleviate the pain or sweat that is trying so hard to blind you.

Another swing of your weighted fists has your bones creaking, muscles burning while you have half a mind to add more sand to your wrist and ankle bands.

Hell maybe even more to your vest although it presses against your sternum harshly with each step, threatening to snap a rib. You begin to lose the concentration on the areas you want to afflict as the incresed gravitational begins to spread out. The floor groans harder depsite being designed to withstand many powerful quirks.

A hairline fraction fissures through the smooth wood, attempting to snake up the cinderblock wall.

"None of this is going to change anything. You will still be..."

A heated punch hits the dummy hard, causing it to skid but you advance without letting up, snarling.

"Don't fucking say it."

Another hit to the dummy and you've got it cornered agaisnt the wall but still the voice goes on, a smile dancing along its tone as it purrs.

*"Worthless"*

You begin to jab agaisnt the dummy with enough momentum and force that the padding begins to fall away from its "face" revealing unforgiving metal beneath.

Metal that you pound into anyway.

Metal that warps for a moment from being too close to your pull, still your barrage of fists and feet cease to let up.

You follow up a punch with a round house kick increasing the force on your body subconsciously. As you rotate your vest slams heavily into your ribs and an audible crack echoes around the room.

"Fuck!" You huff slamming your foot against the cool surface, the dummy implodes as you land on your feet.

In that moment the room pops from the pressure as you let up the force. The floor creaks, almost breathing as it returns to normal although now heavily warped. Suddenly you feel as light as a feather. As if at any moment you could float up to the ceiling like a lazy balloon only to get tangled in the harsh overhead lights.

Crimson splatters the floor from your knuckles and spit, hand feathering over your ribs. Sliding beneath dampened fabric, smoothing over already bruised skin. You're sure it will only worsen now that you count, one, two.

Three fucking cracked ribs. Your breaths come out in heavy puffs all echoing back to you as you right your self, eyes seeking out another dummy, ignoring the pain begging you to stop.

But feeling pain was better than feeling that weighted void in your chest.

As if you were a super nova that imploded, pulling everything around you into the darkened abyss.

Turning it all into hollowed nothingness.

The first sparring dummy you spy seems to look at you funny, you rear your fist but before it can make contact a growl cuts out.

"You've done enough little one."

His voice dips low, borderline pissed. It is a warning and one you must obey as the air permeates with salted caramel.

But you're in no mood to deal with Katsuki, no mood to be submissive, obedient or anything relative to feeling at all.

Regardless if it's clearly for your own good.

All you wanted, needed, was for everything to fade.

And maybe to black.

But it doesn't instead he advances hand finding your wrist with a sharp grip, that softens only to assess. Turning your wrist this way and that with heated calculating eyes, before he rips off your weighted vest with a growl. Lifting your shirt to reveal blush black painted beneath your smooth skin. His finger prods your ribs and when he counts them in his head he snarls. You watch his muscles twitch as he holds himself. Muscles that had grown twice their size since first year and yet you were left unchanging.

"Training is futile, you'll always be puny."

You rip your wrist free, teeth bared at an already snarling Bakugou.

"Not. Now." You misread his actions beneath the initial rage. He is concerned but all you see is punishment in his eyes

Disappointment.

You look over Katsuki's sculpted shoulder to see Kirishima waiting at the door with glistening ruby eyes that seem to be torn.

Who does he support? How can he defuse this?

"You're fucking hurt." The blonde bites out venom.

"I'm fucking fine. Drop it!" You shove past him slamming your shoulder into his. He wants so badly to reach for you. To yank you back to him so you can look him in his angry scarlet eyes.

"Oh so the blood on the floor means you're fine? Your cracked ribs and bruised to fuck all body means you're fine?!" His temper shows with deadly pops that dance along his skin.

You weight him and Kirishima down gently as you leave, hoping it slows them down long enough for you to return to the safety of your dorm room.

Katuski snarls as he walks with leaded feet, as if walking through mud under the influence of a muscle relaxer. But he and Kirishima have trained with you plenty of times, not to mention they are exposed to your increased pull.

"Maybe we should give them sometime? They are upset, babe." Kirishima offers only to be met with a glowering glare.

"I've tried listening to you, I've tried it your way and look what has happened." A snarl so low that Kirishima feels his gut twist.

"But..."

"But what?" He turns on his lover quickly, "We gave them two weeks of no contact. This is clearly a symptom we need to bisect before they kill themselves over some stupid fucking training."

Kirishima can do nothing but follow as Bakugou stalks you up the steps that you stomp.

You're seething, steam rising from your skin with each heavy breath as your vision blurs between rational thought and white hot rage.

Rage that is always so easy to give into. Especially when your only other option is immobilzing sadness. Before you know it Bakugou is barking at you from the jamb of the door while your ruby haired boyfriend presses gently against his back.

Trying to remind him that his own irate reaction could further the situation, Bakugou feels it but it is lost as you strip to change. You rip the velcro from your wrists, dropping the fifty pounds weights with a harsh thud. The floor rattles the items on your desk and even the window before you move onto the hundred pound weights on your ankles.

Grumbling as you think of your two hundred and fifty pound vest abandoned in the gym. How hard had Bakugou torn it from your strong yet sleek frame?

Would you have to take it to the support class?

You strip your shirt and then your pants as two sets of red eyes gauge different reactions.

Rubies widen, shining with the threat of tears. While blood scarlet narrow with burning, hot, wrath.

Katsuki knew you were bruised, he knew you had those broken ribs and he knew you were set out of rehabilitation probation due to injuries but he did not know the extent of them.

And how the fuck could he? What with you locking yourself away in your room, refusing to text them, refusing to eat the meals cooked and left for you.

Refusing help as you promised you would not do.

Katsuki's warning signs of blowing do not go unnoticed, a strong hand wraps around his hip. Squeezing, hoping to convey the softness the ash blonde so desperately needs.

It works, at least as far as his quirk goes. Bakugou Katsuki could erupt in more than one way.

"What. The. FUCK?!" He goes to take a step in but Kirishima keeps his grip tight. But that does not stop the tongue lashing you get. Bakugou takes a large slow breath, as you once taught him and snorts it out like a dragon.

"You promised you would stop doing this..." His voice, once soothing now grating your last nerve, "You fucking promised, damn it."

Kirishima gives another small squeeze before piping up.

"We are just worried about you, love. Very worried." His voice cracks at the end, causing Katsuki to look over his shoulder.

The tears well faster over dancing garnets.

From the weight of the guilt something in you finally snaps. The room blurs as you subconsciously pull the force to you, items slowly crushing beneath the weight as you lunge for the first thing you can wrap burning hands on.

Your desk chair to which your hurl while screaming

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Your hot headed boyfriend catches the chair with ease, exploding it on impact.

With an angry enough blast that the paint on the ceiling and walls peel.

Oh if Bakugou wasn't pissed at you before he was now.

And not angry over the fact that you've thrown something at him.

But over the simple fact that you were hurting in deadly silence. So badly suffering that you cannot even rationally express yourself anymore.

And more over he is pissed he has let it get this far.

The glass of your window shatters behind you, both from your exertion and his explosion pulling you into the here and now.

The room spirals as quickly as you do, suddenly forgetting how to breath. Gasping as a fish does out of water before you fall to your knees. The two men rush to you, fearing you'll lose yourself in your panic. Two sets of strong arms wrap around you both crushing you between them.

"You're okay." Kirishima soothes, "You're okay. Just breathe."

Nails bite into toned flesh though you are unsure which unfortunate mail is receiving the half blood moons as tears prick your eyes. Falling towards the Earth as much as you wish they wouldn't. Your stomach lurches, your side screams but it does not stop the racks of sobs that tremor through your body.

You come undone in the worst way before the very two men you wanted, needed to be strong in front of. There was already a detrimental gap between your development and theirs. In every fucking aspect you could think of.

Muscle mass.

Durability.

Capability.

The list could go on.

After some time Bakugou coos to you.

"Now tell me what's wrong."

Kirishima places his head between your shoulder blades, reaching out for Bakugou's hand.

"I...I'm behind. I... I cannot even train right." Tears slip over ruddy cheeks that Katuski gently wipes away.

"Behind how?" Kirishima prompts, letting lazy circles trace your stomach.

"On my first mission I get put on recovery suspension, I worked so so so *hard* to even get that hero to agree to take me on and yet I fucked it all up!" Another frustrated sob that has you hiccuping for a moment. You watch Bakugou's face turn to stone as he tries to calm himself.

"I almost died on one of my first big missions. I sat out for a long time, this was a little bit before you transferred." Kirishima admits, "Resting and PT made me stronger."

"Hell I was behind at one point too. I couldn't even fucking pass the provisional!" Katsuki growls at the thought.

"Neither could Todoroki-kun." Kirishima adds.

"But you three...you three are strong. I'm so....weak." With that Bakugou snaps.

"You think I can run with a two hundred fifty pound weight on my chest and keep pace with Iida's jog? Do you think Kirishima could hold down twenty fucking tweaked out villians at once?" His voice is gruff but his hands are soft as he lifts your chin, purposefully making you hold his gaze as he speaks, "Answer me, little one."

"N...no." You sob, Kirishima's strong arm squeezes tigher around your middle, careful to avoid your ribs, as he peppers kisses over your blackened shoulders.

"Just because your body does not reflect mine or Eijiro's does not mean you are weak. You are strong Y/N. Real fucking strong." He kisses you softly, capturing your lips tenderly as Kirishima kisses along your throat.

"Share this weight with us." Bakugou breathes out after pulling away.

"Its not weak to cry or ask for help baby." Kirishima whispers in your ear, your eyes look over your sturdy shoulder before they fall to their hands intertwined. You notice Bakugou's knuckles turning white. Had you really made them worry this much?

"Isn't that right Suki?" Eji asks, resting his chin in your shoulder. Katsuki looks at him for a long time, this man and you have helped him more than he would ever like to admit. But if this is what brought that natural magnetism about you that attracted him in the first place he'd say it

Fuck, if it brought that blinding smile of yours back to your kissable lips he'd scream if from the fucking roof.

"Yes." He lets out a shaky sigh, "Now please, please let us help you little one."

Searching his eyes you wonder if there will ever be a time when you will stop feeling this way.

When you will stop feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders over little to nothing at all.

When you will stop feeling that black hole that crawled into your chest weighing you down and making you weightless all at once.

When you will stop the haunting feeling of sadness that lingers on the fringes of your every thought, tainting every memory and moment with its shimmering darkness.

You wonder if this cancer, if this demon that has since crawled into your chest and devoured your heart whole will ever die.

Scarlet eyes soften as they rove over your lovely features, strong arms support you from behind and you know what the answer is.

The answer is no.

It will never die, never cease to exist, never leave you alone. It will stay with you until you lie motionless forever and even then it will crawl into your casket cradling your cooling skin.

But you will not stop fighting.

Cannot stop fighting because of the small sliver of a feeling you have now.

The love that resiliently blooms despite the pressure, despite the darkness, despite it being trampled over and fucking over.

You know that these two men are not your worth nor or they your reason for being and even if, Kamisama forbid, you three broke up, you would fight on.

Tooth and nail keeping this demon under the ball of your steel toed boot.

Because in the end, after it is all said in done you will do anything to feel this.

This hope and love that radiates from within. You sigh out a shaky sigh, releasing the tension of your shoulders and the constant pressure you've kept on yourself since that mission, your shoulders sag from relief.

"Thank you, thank you for baring this with me." You squeeze their arms respectively as you speak to them both at once, "I love you."

They speak in unison their two tones melding together and soothing over your skin like an ointment.

"I love you too."

#bakugou x reader #baakugo x reader #gender nuetral reader #katsuki x kirishima #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #bnha kacchan #bnha fanfiction #kirishima x bakugo x reader #kirishima ejirou #katuski bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #kirishima #kirishima imagine

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bluezey · 4 years ago

Text

Inside Onward - Magic Gift

Third part of the Inside Out/Onward crossover. I must warn you, this ended up longer than I thought. I blame Ian’s emotions, they wouldn’t stop arguing in this one! But, I do like how I incorporated magic into the mind of one who’s magically gifted, so there’s that. Also, we’re finally on the quest!

No promises on either, but I’ll try to hammer out the next chapter this weekend, and I’ll try not to make it too long.

“What do you mean it’s from dad?” Barley asked, following Ian upstairs.

“I dunno,” Ian replied. “Mom said it was for both of us.”

Laurel just returned from the attic, in her possession was a large, long object wrapped in brown fabric. In confusion and curiosity, Ian and Barely took one side of the long awaiting present and carried it into Ian’s room. “Dad said to wait and give this to you when you both turned sixteen,” Laurel explained, also curious, but also excited with anticipation. “I have no idea what it is.”

Joy was bouncing on his heels in excitement. “Ooh, I love surprises. What do you think it is?” he asked the other emotions at the console.

“What makes you think we know?” Anger replied.

“I’m just as lost as you are,” Disgust shrugged.

Fear was just as affixed to the screen as the emotions watched Ian and Barley gently place the present on Ian’s bed. Ian pulled the string, untying the present, loosening what was inside. As the fabric quietly unfurled, it unveiled the top of a wooden staff, complete with three prongs twisting around themselves.

The emotions were just as puzzled as Ian was. Acting like he knew exactly what it was, Barley pushed Ian out of the way as he picked up the wooden staff. “It’s a wizard’s staff,” Barley said in awe, followed by excitement. “Dad was a wizard!”

“What?” Ian exclaimed in shock.

“What??” his emotions echoed, just as lost.

Laurel stepped in, clearing things up with Barley. “Your dad was an accountant. Sure, he got into some weird things when he got sick…”

“Hey, look.” Sadness pointed to a small, aged letter tucked into the fabric. Believing it could have answers, Fear input the commands into the console.

“It’s a note.” Ian took the note and began reading it aloud. “Dear Ian and Barley. Long ago, the world was full of wonder. It was adventurous, exciting, and best of all, there was magic. And that magic helped all those in need. But, it wasn’t easy to master, so others found a different way to get by. And over time, magic faded away. But, I hope there’s a little magic left in you. I wrote this spell to see for myself just who my sons grew up to be.”

Headquarters was silent for a brief moment before Disgust broke the mood. “Magic? I thought that was just made up garbage in Barley’s stupid games.”

But more questions were answered when Ian found another note. “Visitation spell.”

“Magic is real?” Sadness asked.

“No no no no,” Fear tried to convince himself more than the others. “It’s just make believe, like the tooth sprite, or the Solstice troll.”

Joy didn’t need convincing, as he was glowing with enough happiness to light Headquarters for days.

Barley took the spell parchment and glanced over it for a second before his face lit up. “Says here, with this spell, we can bring dad back. For one whole day, dad will be back!”

“Back to life?” Ian took the note back and read it over, seeing if this was misread, or just too unbelievable to be true. “That’s not possible!”

“It is with this,” Barley declared, holding the staff in hand.

“No!” Anger barked. “It’s just impossible!”

The emotions immediately turned when they felt that warm glow from an island behind him. They saw Dad Island light up as they heard Ian’s voice echo with wonder, “I’m going to meet dad?”

Disgust waved his hands, frowning in disbelief. “Okay guys, seriously? Who believes this junk?”

“Why would dad lie to us?” Sadness asked quietly.

“Who would believe magic is going to bring back a dead guy?” Anger argued.

“Guys!” Joy pointed to the island off in the near distance. “Ian clearly wants to give this a chance.”

“Because he’s desperate. We all are, Joy,” Disgust explained. “But magic isn’t going to work because it’s not real.”

“And if it doesn’t work, then nothing happens, but if it does…” Joy’s smile was beginning to fade as he realized he wasn’t winning over Disgust or Anger. Even Sadness was beginning to waver back into hopelessness. “Uh, Fear. You believe this could work, right?”

Fear simply stepped back before shrugging, lost in the confusion of all this chaos. One minute Ian was stitching up a sweater after his catastrophe of a birthday, and now there’s talk of magic and raising the dead??

“A spell this advanced would need an assist element,” Barley explained. “For that, dad would have had to find a- Phoenix gem!” he interrupted himself triumphantly as he pulled a glowing orange gem out of the cloth.

“Something’s happening!” Fear pointed to the screen, and the emotions went back to the console.

“Wait a minute, is this dangerous?” Laurel asked.

Fear froze in place. “Da- da- da- did she just say-?”

“We’re about to find out,” Barley declared, firmly placing the Phoenix gem within the nest of twisted wooden prongs at the end of the staff.

Fear gulped, wide eyed, hands under his arms.

Barley slowly stepped back, gradually gripping the staff as if he was savoring this very moment. He suddenly drew his hand back with a yelp of pain.

Fear screamed, the other emotions reacted with shock and worry.

“What?” Laurel asked in fear.

Barley replied sheepishly, “Splinter.”

“Oh come on!” Anger spat.

“Seriously?” Disgust declared exasperated. “Is he serious? Are you serious?”

Even Joy wasn’t so amused with Barley this time, while Fear tried to keep from fainting in relief.

Barley quickly glanced over the spell on the parchment before confidently holding the staff in the air. Ian and Laurel waited in anticipation, while the emotions leaned forward, wondering what was going to happen next.

“Only once is all we get, grant me this rebirth,” Barley recited. “Until tomorrow’s sun as set, one day to walk the earth!”

And…. Nothing.

The emotions blinked, confusing gradually washing over them, before they saw Barley try again.

“Only once is all we get, grant me this rebirth. Until tomorrow’s sun has set, one day to walk the earth.”

Nothing.

Barley tried again… and again, and again, and again….

One by one, the emotions left the console. First Anger, reading over a mind manual. Then Disgust, who’d rather check on his hair and give it a quick touch up with his comb. Then Sadness, who sadly flopped face down on the couch in defeat. Then Joy, who was playing with a kaleidoscope. All that was left at the console was Fear, who was staring at the screen, losing his hope as he watched Ian hopelessly sit on his bed, softly petting the resting dragon Blazey.

Laurel finally, softly, spoke up. “Barley…”

That’s all Barley needed to hear to finally give up. He lowered the staff against Ian’s desk, then sat down on the bed.

Laurel glanced at both her boys, feeling their sorrow. She then picked up the letter and explained, “Your dad fought so badly to see you boys, that he tried anything. That’s something, right?”

Sadness approached the console and rested a hand on a button. “Yeah,” Ian replied, faking a smile.

Laurel was about to say something to Barley, but he was already leaving the bedroom quietly. She turned back to Ian, trying to muster a smile. “Hey, you want to come with me to pick up your cake?”

“No, that’s okay,” Ian replied, faking a smile back. “Thanks, mom.”

Laurel gave Ian a soft kiss on his cheek before he left him alone in his room.

Resigning in defeat, Fear turned and walked to the back of Headquarters. He placed his hands on the window as he looked over at Dad Island, sighing to himself, his nerve hanging so low against his back it was almost uncurled. Of course, just what they needed to top the worst sixteenth birthday ever: false hope.

Ian was left alone, sitting at his desk. About twenty minutes passed, but they felt so long and empty. He didn’t even bother to lift his head, just looking down at the two pieces of parchment with dad’s handwriting on them.

Sadness turned his head, then sat up, then stood up. He squinted his eyes, trying to get a good look at dad’s handwriting. It’s so neat, yet so fancy, and so faded over time. Feeling called to the console, Sadness crept up to the controls. He placed a hand on a small lever, looked up at the letter onscreen, and gently pushed the lever forward.

With a sigh, Ian lazily and sorrowfully picked up a paper and read. “Only once is all we get… grant me this rebirth…”

Fear took a double take as he heard Ian’s words. “Sadness!” Fear bolted towards the console, the other emotions right behind him. “What are you doing?”

Sadness tried to keep his balance as Fear pushed him away from the console. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, placing his hands under his arms. “Ian was just so sad, and I was reading dad’s writings, and-“

“Look!” Joy gasped, pointing just at the edge of Ian’s line of sight.

Ian glanced over at the staff leaning against his desk. Nestled atop amongst the three branching prongs, the Phoenix gem glowed, and began to shake with life. Ian nearly knocked over his desk chair as he jumped back in shock.

Fear let go of the console as he stared up at the gem, mouth agape, letting his hands drop to his sides.

“Am I seeing this?” Disgust told Anger and Sadness. “I can’t be seeing this. We’re seeing this, right?”

“It’s working,” Joy whispered in awe, approaching the console and activating a few buttons and switches.

Ian continued, “Until tomorrow’s sun has set…”

Joy was suddenly pulled away from the console by Fear. “Joy!” Fear gave a double take as he watched the whole console begin to glow. Not just the controls, not just the base. The whole thing. And not just the normal five colors that specified each prominent emotion. A bright, ominous aura of white.

The wild thrashing of the Phoenix gem caused the staff to roll, falling off the table. Acting fast, Fear reached the console, making Ian reach for the staff, catching it before it hit the ground. As Ian lifted the staff, his eyes were wide in wonder as he saw the carvings on the wizard’s staff wooden body light up in a magic blue light.

Expanding from the console, a bright aura of white coated the headquarters from floor to ceiling, expanding over objects, even the emotions. Joy shivered with delight as if she was being tickled when the aura enveloped her. Disgust and Sadness ran to the windows as they watched the aura extend into the mind world, coating every last inch of the landscape and anything within in the cooling, bright, magical glow. Though far away, they could barely make out the mind workers reacting in shock and confusion.

“Shantar’s Talon!” Anger exclaimed. “This junk is real??”

“Guys, what do we do?” Disgust asked, out of ideas due to the confusion of this new power overcoming Ian’s mind world.

Fear was trembling, lost in his daze of fright, worry and fear. He felt a hand on his shoulder break him out of his trance, then slowly turned to Joy, giving him a nod and a smile. Fear closed his eyes, grit his teeth, prayed that he wasn’t making a big mistake, and pushed two big levers forward.

“One day to walk the earth!” Ian finished reciting the spell.

Ian gripped both hands on the wizard staff as the magic whipped wildly around the room, catching any little object in the cyclone of power, with Ian in the dead center.

Fear pulled back on the big levers, holding on for dear life so Ian could keep holding on. Around them, the sparkling shine of the magic flew around them in a whirlwind of power. The emotions could feel the ground below them trembling as Headquarters seemed to quake.

“This is madness!” Anger shouted.

“This is amazing!” Joy shouted.

“Everyone!” Fear ordered. “Just focus on Ian! We need to keep him safe!”

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open. “Hey, what are you doing in here- Holy Tooth of Zadar!” Barley exclaimed as he saw the chaos.

“You? Now? Why?” Disgust snapped at Barley.

“Focus!” Fear shouted at Disgust. “Ian needs us!”

A sharp stream of lightning shot from the Phoenix gem and onto the ground. Sparks of magic swirled around the ground before finally revealing feet inside a pair of striped purple socks inside a pair of loafers.

“It’s the socks!” Joy cheered. “It’s the hideous purple socks!”

“Joy, not now!” Fear snapped.

The magic rose, the aura forming into legs clothed in beige slacks. As it passed the belt, the magic began to struggle. Suddenly, the magic glow grew a darker, bolder gold, the Phoenix gem rose from the staff as the magic became more violent, more powerful. Overpowering him, Ian felt his body being pushed back. He planted the staff base first on the ground and forced his body upright, despite how the rug was failing him from standing his ground.

Seeing Fear struggle, Joy grabbed Fear by the waist and pulled back. “Guys, it’s too strong!” Fear choked out from his gritted teeth. The other emotions were going to help, but stopped when they heard that familiar, annoying voice.

“Wait!” Barley called out, running up towards Ian. “I can help!”

“No!!” the emotions shouted as Fear let go of the levers and slammed his hand on a button.

“Barley! No!” Ian shouted, pulling the wizard staff away from Barley.

Crack!

An overpowering bright white light shot from the console, throwing the emotions back.

………

Fear’s head was in a daze, he felt sore all over. He felt like he had to will his eyes open. When he did, all he could see was white. He tried to sit up, pushing through the pain with a groan. He could barely see his hands planted on the ground through the pristine white… mist? Smoke? Fog?

“Joy?” he called out into the vapors. He tried to stand up, but between his sore body and lacking balance, he fell back onto his knees. “Sadness?” Fear tried crawling, immediately bumping his head into a pane of glass. He looked up to see the fog had dissipated enough so he could make out a cluster of cracks on the window, shaped like his silhouette, if he was thrown back, upside down, splayed out and terrified. That explains the aches and disorientation. Trying again to will his bearing back, Fear stood up again, wobbling a bit like his legs were made of jelly. He took one slow, cautious step, holding his hands out into the smoky void. “Anger?”

Out of the fog, a thick red hand shot towards Fear. He gripped tight around Fear’s slender neck and shook violently. “Don’t touch me!!” an irate voice roared, while the fog cleared to reveal a growling red Anger.

Fear finally struggled free from Anger’s grasp, taking a big breath of precious air. “Hello, Anger,” he gagged.

“Where is everybody?” Disgust’s voice called out from the fog.

“Oh no,” Sadness sighed. “We’re blind.”

“Found it!” Joy exclaimed. “Found the console! Everybody, just follow my glow!”

Fear squinted his eyes to make out a yellow aura filtering through the haze. He carefully crept forward, thankfully the fog fading with every step. The light took the form of Joy, before becoming Joy waving his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“That’s right, just focus on me,” Joy encouraged. “You’re doing great. Let’s see, one, two, three, four,” Joy counted as the emotions emerged from the smoke. “And, we’re back.”

Now that they were all together, the emotions glanced at each other with confused, uncertain looks on their faces. “What was that?” Fear finally spoke up. “What just happened? And… Ian!” Fear pushed Joy out of the way as he looked up at the screen. There was smoke in the bedroom too, and he could make out that Ian was on the floor, coughing. “No no no no no, Ian. Quick, someone check if he’s hurt! Is his airway obstructed?”

Joy looked over the vitals. “Ian’s a bit shaken, but he’s fine.” The sight onscreen shifted as Ian got up onto his feet. For a brief moment, Barley was visible onscreen, helping his brother up. “Oh, he’s such a nice brother,” Joy smiled.

“No, this is terrible,” Disgust gasped, holding up his hand to his gaping mouth.

Sadness sighed as he agreed with Disgust, “It didn’t work.”

“Not that! Ian’s room is a mess!” Disgust threw both hands out to exaggerate the mess of clothes, books and knick knacks strewn around the room. “This is going to take hours to organize.”

Fear suddenly tensed up. “What was that?”

The emotions were silent, staring at Fear awkwardly. Some of them looked concerned, others skeptical.

“That noise? What was that noise?” Feeling his self conscious doubts rising up his spine, Fear squealed with fright, “Please tell me I’m not the only one who heard that!”

All five emotions tensed up this time, they all heard that thunk.

Ian and Barley glanced over at Ian’s closet. The gaping alcove looked almost barren now, say for a pile of clothes balled up in a corner. They gazed curiously as the pile moved, like there was something underneath. It was confirmed someone, when a brown loafer brushed its way out, followed by a khaki covered leg.

“Tell me I’m not the only one imagining this, guys,” Disgust commented, wide eyed.

Joy happily hugged Fear to his side. “Look, it’s the socks!” Joy pointed out with great joy.

Ian and Barley watched as the entire pile stood up, Ian’s emotions anticipating the very second that was to come next.

The pile flumped backwards, revealing nothing but a pair of slacks standing on their own.

“Ahh!!” Ian and Barley shouted in surprise.

The emotions echoed the same response, followed by Fear’s body going limp as his eyes began to roll into the back of his head. “Not now, not now,” Joy told him, calmly, cheerfully, holding Fear up by the collar. “Stay with me, Fear. Ian needs us.”

Fear was nothing but a mumble of random words as his faint body flopped forward onto the console.

“There’s supposed to be a top part!” Barley whispered in utter confusion and fright. “I remember dad having a top part!”

Ian’s knees nearly buckled as his mind felt like it was at a loss of this whole situation. “Oh, what did I do? This is horrible!”

The longest brief pause passed before the legs finally moved, the pants beginning to slowly walk forward. Every other step was cautious, feeling around for ground. The pants eventually stopped, by coincidence right in front of dad.

Fear was finally standing onto his knees, draping one arm over the console while his other hand rubbed the faintness out of his eye. Once he was back into consciousness, he glanced around at the other emotions, frozen, unsure. “What are we supposed to do?” Anger whispered aloud.

Joy decided to break the uneasiness, he approached the console, inputing a few keys next to Fear’s arm. “Wait, what?” he asked, before turning his sight towards the screen.

Slowly, Ian knelt down, stretching out a hand. He could get a good look at the waistline, and saw where the belt ends there was nothing but a blue aura of magic. He placed his hand over top, feeling nothing but the occasional coolness emanating from the glow.

“Woah,” Joy was in awe.

Ian immediately stepped back as the pants moved again, this time walking a different direction, away from the boys.

“It’s really him,” Barley muttered to himself before attempting to call out, “Dad, we are in your house!” No response, or whatever response could you get from pants? Hm, response… Barley knelt down and carefully approached the feet. He tapped his hand softly on a loafer, the leg fidgeted in response.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked.

Barley drummed softly on the foot, like he used to do on his dad’s feet when he was a kid. The pants stepped back, then a brief pause, then responds with two taps on the floor.

The emotions softly gasped, echoing Ian’s reaction.

Cautiously, the legs moved forward, one foot feeling around until it brushed up against Barley’s foot. Once it found the top of Barley’s shoe, he gave a similar soft drum cadence. Barley smiled, the few memories he had flooding back into his mind at once. “Yeah, dad,” he said softly, tapping his foot in return. “It’s me.”

The feet took a step back, then began to feel around on the floor again. Lost in its blind search, the sentient pair of pants found its way back to Ian. While it was just near, the foot felt around until it brushed up against Ian’s foot. As if realizing what it may be touching, the foot pushed down just a bit, in an attempt to be a loving kind of touch.

“Yeah, dad,” Barley whispered. “That’s Ian.”

Ian was still as the moment overcame him. His first moment with his dad. “Hi… dad.” He hesitated at first, but then placed his hand on the top of the foot.

The emotions were in a silent awe, as behind them they could hear Dad Island being the liveliest it’s ever been. “No way,” Joy whispered.

Dad stepped back, stumbling for a moment as he tripped on a pen, before getting his bearings back.

Fear’s smile faded, as reality finally returned to him. “No… no, this isn’t right.” He took the controls as the emotions spoke out in confusion.

After enjoying his first moment with Dad, or half of him, Ian stepped back into the reality of the situation. “Oh, no. I messed this whole thing up. Dad’s going to be legs forever.”

“No, not forever,” Barley pointed out. “The spell only lasts for one day. Once the sun sets tomorrow he’ll be gone, and we won’t bring him back again.”

Ian looked out the window at the setting sun, then down at his digital watch. “Okay, twenty four hours. That doesn’t give us much time.”

“No time at all,” Fear thought aloud as he looked down at his own digital watch. “What are we supposed to do with a pair of legs for twenty four hours?”

“Oh! I know!” Joy perked up before taking control.

“We’ll just have to do the spell again,” Ian said.

“What??” the other emotions exclaimed.

“You mean you’ll have to,” Barley clarified. “A person can only do magic if they have the gift, and my brother has the magic gift!!” he exclaimed.

“Okay, this is getting nuts!” Fear said, grappling for the controls. He tried to grab Joy by the shoulder and push him away, but this time Joy pushed back, causing Fear to momentarily pause in shock, before trying again to push for control.

“But I couldn’t finish the spell,” Ian argued.

“Well, you’re going to have plenty of time to practice, cause we’re going to have to find another Phoenix gem,” Barley commented, noticing the remains of the shattered gem on the wizard staff. Almost immediately, Barley’s face lit up with an idea and he ran downstairs.

Joy and Fear finally gave up their shoving match and faced each other. “What is your problem?” Joy exclaimed.

Fear paused a moment, still shocked that Joy talked back to him, before getting back to the subject. “’We’ll have to do the spell again?’”

“Well, yeah,” Joy shrugged. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that about two minutes ago magic was just some hokum from Barley’s silly little games,” Fear explained, “and now Ian just used an ancient stick and resurrected dad’s pants!”

“And your point is…?” Joy asked.

Fear gasped. “What? Seriously? I mean, isn’t this a lot to take in?”

“That is a lot,” Sadness spoke up.

“See?” Fear pointed out. “Sadness agrees with me.”

“I think we should do the spell again,” Sadness added.

Fear took a double take towards Sadness. “You too?”

“I thought I’d never say this ever again,” Disgust added in his thoughts, “but Fear’s right. I don’t want Ian messing with nerdy magic mumbo jumbo.”

“But he is a nerd,” Joy clarified.

“Ian’s not going to become a table top role playing geek!” Anger snapped.

“He’s not playing a game!” Joy argued. “Guys, you saw it! You saw the sparkly stuff, you saw dad’s legs! Magic is real!”

“And dangerous!” Fear argued back.

“But if there’s a chance to bring dad back, even for one day,” Joy asked, “shouldn’t we try it?”

Fear, Anger and Disgust were about to rebut, but paused at that very question. They looked at each other, then at Dad Island, then up at the screen, where they could see Ian gently tapping on Dad’s foot, almost as if he was checking if he was really there.

“Guys,” Joy told them all, “we could finally give Ian memories of his dad.”

Before the emotions could discuss this any further, the bedroom door flung wide open as Barley ran inside, slamming a box of Quests of Yore cards onto the desk. “We’ll start where all quests begin, the Manticore’s Tavern.” He plucked a few selected cards from the box and presented them to Ian. Ian stood up and took the cards with a puzzled look. “The place is run by a fearless adventurer. She can show us where to find any gem, talisman, totem…”

“This again?” Anger snapped, with Disgust flipping a few switches on the controls.

“Barley, this is for a game,” Ian explained.

“Based on real life,” Barley explained right back.

“How do you know this place is still there?” Ian asked.

“It’s there.” Barley dumped out the box and dug through the pile of cards for the exact one. “My years of training have prepared me for this very moment, and this is the only way we are going to find a Phoenix gem,” he declared, holding up the Phoenix gem card.

“There’s no way we’re trusting this guy,” Disgust said.

“But he’s the expert,” Joy told Disgust.

“The expert in a geeky game,” Disgust clarified.

“Based on real life,” Joy clarified right back.

“What part of this is real life, Joy?” Anger snapped. “What part?”

“Well, we know the magic is real. Right, Fear? Fear?” Joy looked around, finding Fear’s not at the console. She turned around to see Fear pacing back and forth across the floor, hands squeezing his sides and mumbling nervously to himself. His eyes were wide, as he couldn’t believe this is happening. “Fear!”

“Ah!” Fear jumped, then tried to collect himself. “Oh, heh, uh, sorry. I was just thinking…”

“… Thinking we should do this?” Joy asked with an encouraging, trusting smile.

Fear was unsure of anything anymore. All he could do was glance at the emotions, then Ian, then back at Joy, then at Dad Island, then at Ian, then back at Joy. Taking a deep breath, followed by a gulp, Fear approached the console, pleaded under his breath, “please don’t let me regret this…” the jumped a mile as he heard Dad Island whir to life.

“Whatever it takes,” Ian decided, “I am going to meet my dad.”

“Did you hear that dad?” Barley boasted triumphantly. “We’re going on a quest!”

-----

Before they knew it, Ian was in the back of the van with Dad, Barley was at the wheel driving down the interstate through the city. Fear and Sadness were at the controls, Disgust watching the screen next to an idea bulb she just recently inserted into the console.

“Guys! Guys! Look!” Joy raced up to the other emotions, cradling a purple memory orb. “It’s Ian’s first memory of dad!”

Fear peered into the ball as it played an image of Ian reacting to first seeing the pair of sentient legs. “Uhh… I don’t think it counts until we get all of dad back.”

“Oh, all right,” Joy replied with a playful huff before placing the memory back on the short term shelves.

As Sadness finished returning a memory of Ian’s math award up the recall tube, Fear took the controls to help Ian finish another list of his.

“What are you two chatty charlies up to back there?” Barley asked Ian.

Ian picked up a mannequin top made out of pieces of clothing and stuffing. “Well, I felt weird talking to dad without a top half so… ta-da.” Ian placed the mannequin top on top of the bottom half of Dad.

“That’s great!” Barley exclaimed. “Dad, you look just the way I remember you.”

Disgust smirked as he removed the idea bulb from the console. “Told you it was a good idea.”

“Don’t worry dad, soon we’ll have you all back together, and I’ll introduce you to Guinevere,” Barley said, implying his van. “Rebuilt this old girl myself, from the lug nuts to the air conditioning.” With one flick of a switch, the inside of the van was hit hard with a blast of cold air.

Fear shrieked and grappled at the controls. “Ian! Need! Seat belt!”

Ian managed to fight through the gust and turn off the overpowering A/C unit. “Showing dad your van? That’s your whole list?” Ian asked as he sat down in the passenger seat.

“What list?” Barley asked, before noticing a small notebook in Ian’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s just a list of things I want to do with dad,” Ian explained. “You know, play catch, take a walk, driving lesson, share my whole life story with him…”

Fear nodded, reading over every single one that he wrote on his exact copy of Ian’s list in his notebook. Play catch. Take a walk. Laugh together. Heart to heart. Driving Lesson. Share my life story with him.

“That’s good,” Barley nodded with a smile, before his smile lit up with excitement. “Oh, but before you cast dad’s spell again, you need to practice your magic.”

Ian caught the book Barley casually tossed at him. The Quests of Yore game book. “This is for a game.”

“Everything in Quests of Yore is historically accurate, even the spells. So,” Barley boldly presented Ian with the wizard staff, “Start practicing, young sorcerer.”

Fear froze, looking up at the staff, overpowered with the overbearing weight that this is real, and this is really happening. “Are we really going to do this?” he asked.

Anger and Disgust were on one side, arms crossed, not liking the game book is involved. Sadness on the other, standing next to Fear, placing his hand on Fear’s. Joy placed his hand on Fear’s shoulder, giving him a confident, assuring smile.

Trying to ignore the feeling that he’s already regretting this, Fear closed his eyes, and pressed a button.

“Well, dad,” Ian said, in a less confident tone, as he cracked opened the book. “Let’s practice some magic.”

#inside onward #pixar inside out #pixar Onward #sir Iandore of Lightfoot #Ian Lightfoot #Barley Lightfoot #joy #sadness #anger #disgust #fear

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