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junedenim · 2 months

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a vision trip

part 1 part 3

one day with a familiar face in a foreign country

word count: 10.4k

It's May in Paris. The breeze is light and the air is sweet. Alex sits in a cafe, picking at his nails, waiting. He nurses a coffee, but it's too bitter, and he's too nervous to ask for sugar or cream. He debates ordering food but decides to wait for his counterpart. He's tired. Too many shows and an overwhelming amount of traveling. There isn't much keeping him awake other than the people bustling around him and the person he's awaiting.

She was supposed to be here at 12 and it's 12:10 now. He won't complain. He isn't one for punctuality either. He can't think about the show tonight. It's draining but he'll soak up every minute of it. He just doesn't want to wait. He wants to take a nap. He'll wait 10 more minutes and then leave. It's fair enough.

He's tapped out. People-watching in Paris is quite a thrill. People sitting outside are smoking and he wishes he picked a seat out there so he could at least have a cigarette keeping him awake. There's a couple across the street either arguing or just passionately talking. It's hard to tell the difference.

Then, the chair across from him screeches across the floor loudly, drawing his eyes up. All the color drains from his face, his ghostly appearance recognizing the phantom that stands before him. His heart has fallen out of him. It's lying on the floor somewhere, the blood spurting out of it. Alex is certain he has fallen and hit his head and this is the dream sequence that plays in the movie. He's lost in a circle of time. It could be minutes or seconds, he sits there with his mouth begging to catch flies.

She smiles. That same fucking smile. Bright, pearly, the kind she'd give that made him want to lean in and kiss her. She looks the exact same. Even has a bandana on, although, now it's tied around the back of her head, holding that blonde hair back. It's longer now. She's dressed in jeans and a blue-and-white pinstriped button-up. It's almost like they are matching. Could be, if they wanted to with his trousers and white button-up.

He blinks like twenty times trying to clear his vision, make sure of this sight. Confirm this is real. It stays the same. "Holy fucking shit," he finally utters.

Her smile grows wider. "Wow," she sighs, "your French has gotten much worse. You're supposed to say bonjour."

Alex finally allows a smile to crack his face, despite his certainty that this can not be real. "What—what are you doing here?" His brows furrow, still unable to take in her whole image.

She takes off the saddle bag. It's leather this time. Not her old cloth one with the pins. She sits fully down in the chair across from him. A wide smirk displays across her face as she rests her head on her left hand. "Interviewing you."

As if this interaction couldn't get crazier and his jaw could possibly hang open wider. "Seriously?"

She gives him a pleased nod. "I don't usually do music but someone atmy work mentioned the Arctic Monkeys concert coming to town and the opportunity for an interview and I begged my boss."

He tries to quail his quickened heartbeat but she isn't making it simple. None of this is simple and he's gone dazed and crazed. He must have. "I can't believe you're here. You're in front of me. I feel like you're so calm and I've completely lost it."

"Well, I knew I would be seeing you again for about a month and I tried to regain my cool in front of the bathroom mirror for about 45 minutes. Do you want to go do that?" She points behind her to the toilets with a dream-inducing grin. She's proud of that joke.

"I might have to. Go in there and se branler." He motions jerking off loosely with his hand and it gets that precious fucking laughter out of her.

"You remember any French other than that?"

He gives a quick shake of his head. "No, not really." Prompting more laughter from her. He stares at her, giving her a thorough examination. "I can't fucking believe it. It's been 11 years, you know, how fucking crazy is that?"

"Don't tell me that." She rests her forehead in the palm of her hand. "I'm still trying to deal with turning 30 and that was 2 years ago."

He's amused by her. It's 11 years ago and yesterday for him. He feels they've snapped right back into place. No time has shifted and they are 21 again and this is what life would have been like if they had July in Paris. "So, you finally figured out your life," he recalls her ramblings. Revels in them.

She shrugs. "For the most part. It took a while but we're here. It was kind of, well, our day in Brussels helped point me in that direction. You probably don't remember"—he remembers everything, seriously—"but you made this compliment about how I had all these good questions or something and I thought, after you, well, told me about the whole band thing, and I figured out how big you actually were that I could do that for a living. Interview people. I don't usually do rockstars though not since you."

A thumping rings in his red-hot ears. He tries to take a deep breath and has to try several times. "What do you usually do?"

"Mainly the art section. I go to at least a dozen gallery openings every week but I love it."

"It sounds perfect for you. You helped me understand Magritte."

She smiles with pride. "You always had a keen eye. I only pointed you in the right direction."

He lets out a puff of air loudly and shakes his head. He doesn't look down at his hands but already knows they're shaking. "I'm sorry. I just can't fucking believe you're in front of me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

She giggles. "I didn't really either."

He becomes a tad solemn as he leans on his hand, closer to her. "Can I ask you something?" She nods. "Why didn't you come to the Paris show?"

She leans back in her chair and her demeanor shifts. She's remorseful-looking and toying with her hands. He supposes that habit has stayed the same. "I wanted to. I tried to be but I had got into this journalism program in Boston. I saw you there but I didn't think you'd want to see me after ditching you in Paris. I didn't really know how to get backstage or anything either. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "Don't be sorry. Why did you think I wouldn't want to see you?"

She tries to hide her face. "I swear I wasn't searching you up every night and stalking you but I saw you and your girlfriend back then, uh, Alexa. Didn't want to impose on anything because that was back when I didn't have the belief of women and men being friends."

"Like Harry Burns? I'd want to see you no matter what." He doesn't want to admit to her how hurt he was by her not showing up in Paris. How her name had been on every backstage list for the Favourite Worst Nightmare tour. Let alone that embarrassed trolling around Paris he had done. His start with Alexa, however serious that relationship ended up becoming, was rooted in getting over Lottie. He still hadn't fully dealt with that last part. Not until she sat in front of him and he realized.

"I had a different mind at 21," she explains. "I changed therapists."

He throws his head back in laughter. "What was the final straw?"

"Well." Her eyes drift away from his, looking down at her locked hands. "Moving to America was the main reason. I couldn't deal with any more defense of porn-addict boyfriend."

Alex takes a sip of his coffee, forgetting its bitterness, but enduring it to indulge in her sweetness. "She never let up on that one?"

"Not really."

Lottie orders a cappuccino and Alex, unsure of what to do, says, "You know, I have a concert later tonight."

"I know. I'm gonna go if that's alright. For the article and everything." She says it like she's informing him, rather than asking for permission.

"Well, I don't have to be at the venue for another couple of hours and I've never really gotten the chance to explore Paris." The smile that spreads across her face tells him she knows what he is thinking.

She snickers, "I should get a flat day rate for being your tour guide."

He leans forward on the little cafe table between them. "Come on, I'll give an exclusive. Complete unabridged day with a rockstar."

She giggles. "My boss would be very mad if I didn't take that."

"Perfect." He means every bit of that. His 21-year-old self's fantasies are finally coming true. Imagining life as it truly should have been. He thinks how much he has changed since then. How much he has stayed the same. She's stayed the same in his mind. A ghostly presence in his mind. An angel that came and visited for a day. She looks much of the same, especially compared to his differing appearance. Longer hair, less scrawny, light stubble regrowing post-goatie. He's grown into himself more, no longer an awkward boy under a hoodie. He's getting hot under his suit jacket. "So, what have you been up to the past 11 years?"

George points a finger at him. "Aren't I supposed to be asking you questions?"

He smirks and leans back in his chair. "No, see that's part of the deal. You tell me what you've been doing for the past decade and answer all my questions and I might tell you exclusive material. But you have to hold up your end of the bargain."

She raises an eyebrow but smiles and nods. "Let's see the last 11 years. I mean, I lived in Boston for 5 years. About 5 years too many."

"Why? Did you hate it?"

She tilts her head back and forth in an indifferent gesture. "It's a nice city but I don't think I belong in America. I fell into a fantasy there. By the time I had been there 5 years, I felt I had been living a lie the whole time. You know, I didn't like my apartment or my friends or even my job and I was 26 and it was either change my shit now or live like this for the rest of my life."

"Yeah, yeah. I feel that now. I've been out in LA for about 5 years now but had never really settled until this past year. I loved it my first year. It was so different than anywhere I've ever lived but last year was the first time I had been there a full year and I think I hate it."

"America's a mess now anyway. I couldn't imagine living in LA. It doesn't seem fun."

Alex shrugs. "I like it but I think I've fallen away from it. And everywhere is a mess now anyway. Brexit's happened and England's a mess and I haven't even lived there fully since 2008 but part of me thinks I'd like it."

"When I moved back to Paris after Boston, I felt my whole body realigned and I'm not one for that energy crap but I think there has to be something to these places because I immediately felt a relief I had never felt in Boston." His head is filled with thoughts of telling her, I know exactly what you mean, I feel it right now looking at you.

"Maybe after this next tour but I don't know if me girlfriend would do it. She already moved out to LA for me. I'd feel shitty making her move to a whole other country."

"Is she American?"

He nods, even though he has a feeling she already knew that but she's trying not to seem like she already has all the answers to him already from her research. "You seeing anyone?"

Her face crosses. "Kind of." Her resolve breaks with a laugh. "God, how embarrassing is it that I'm 32 and kind of in a relationship?"

"I think you're fine. 32 is still young. You don't have to worry about that for another decade."

She leans forward with intensity, the same level she had at 21. "Except, I'm getting down to the wire here as far as having children." He throws his head back in laughter. It's nice to know that she hasn't changed a bit in 11 years. "I'm serious. And, I know, I know, science is so advanced these days and there are millions of children to adopt and blah blah blah but I don't want to be a 50-year-old pregnant woman or a single mother. I mean, I'm not opposed to it but I don't think there's anything wrong with having the fantasy of the nuclear family. Except I don't know if I really want that or that's just societal pressure I'm feeling."

It's deja vu for him of the romantic nostalgia variety that if he could package it into a pill and take it as a prescription forever, he would. "You said the same thing in Brussels."

She groans in frustration. "Great, so I'm a broken loop. I'm a woman moaning about men and babies. I put shame on all the feminist icons."

He waves his hand at her. "I think you're fine and it's nice to know how you feel about these things, even if it's the same. I feel that way right now."

"With children?"

"Yeah, I mean, most of me friends have settled. Everyone in the band has kids and I don't know if I want that. Me girlfriend wants that, I think, but I can't imagine touring and having kids at home. I still feel too young to have kids or to get married."

She groans, "Yuck. Don't even get me started on marriage."

"Don't believe in it?"

"I don't want to. I think if I was with someone who really wanted it then maybe but when I was engaged it felt like such a doomful thing."

She nonchalantly says it but he needs to know. "You were in engaged?"

Lottie gives a small head nod and sips her cappuccino. The subject is still an odd one for her. "For about 6 months in 2012. It was a disaster, to say the least, mostly on my part. He was a good guy but I was too immature to settle and he was the last thing keeping me in Boston. Once that ended, I came back to Paris."

"You were engaged to an American?" He leans forward with intrigue. It shocks him for some reason.

She furrows her brows. "Aren't you dating an American?"

"Yeah, but it's different," Alex excuses.

"How?"

There isn't actually a difference other than bubbling jealousy but he can't admit that. So, he shrugs. "I'm a lowly Brit and you're a sophisticated French girl dating an American, let alone one from Boston."

She tilts her head in slight agreement. "He was awfully rowdy."

"Was he a big Red Sox fan?" Alex jokingly asks.

She sticks her tongue out and shakes her head. "Yuck, don't talk to me about baseball. Sports is the primary reason I left. His family had season passes and it was like the Salem Witch Trails if you didn't go to every game."

"See this is why I can't picture you engaged to an American."

"Fair point," she says. "What about your girlfriend?"

"Oh." He doesn't know why he's taken aback by the question. It makes him stir with guilt. It's not that he doesn't love his girlfriend, he has a fucking tattoo with her name, but suddenly Lottie sits down in a cafe in Paris across from him and he is thrown.

"She's great." He stops there but then Lottie stares at him and he realizes he's being short. He stares down at his cup. "She's—she's funny, beautiful, and very lovely." The description doesn't exactly help his case.

She doesn't push him any further. In fact, she smiles, and says, "She sounds nice. I'm sure you don't deserve her."

Alex chuckles initially at the comment but it grows painful inside of him. He struggles to digest it and the words weigh heavy as it turns from a joke into the truth. He shakes it off as best he can. "Who is this 'kind of' relationship?"

She sighs loudly. "We met at this weird work function. He works as a freelance photojournalist and travels to these warzones for months at a time and then he'll be here for a month or 2 before heading off again."

"Wow," Alex utters. How can I compete with a warzone photojournalist who is kind of her boyfriend? He shakes it. You don't need to compete because you have a fucking girlfriend, you idiot. "That's cool." Idiot.

"Yeah." She displays a similar demeanor as him: outmatched with no chance of catching up. "It's—he's a good guy. He does this incredible work but I can't help but constantly feel undercut by him. It's not his intention but—no offense to you—I'm telling him about some avant-garde art show I just reviewed and he's like 'That's great, I'm photographing Syrian refugee camps.' You feel like a complete loser next to him."

"You're helping keep art alive and maybe I'm stroking me ego too much but isn't that what we need during all these shitstorms? It feels like the only thing keeping me sane at times."

She leans forward onto her hand and smiles and, fuck, he feels his heart skip a beat. He can't shake her off of his skin, off his mind, off his heart. If he was a smart guy—a good guy—he'd do the interview, and leave. Play the show and leave France. Go home to his girlfriend and leave Lottie as a fantasy in his mind for the rest of his life. But then he thinks about his 21-year-old self who swore he wouldn't let her become that to him. Someone he would lie awake at night and imagine what life would be like if he got her. She's danced in and out of his mind through the years, but he'd be lying if he didn't think about what would have happened if she showed up in Paris. She got on that London-bound train. If they exchanged fucking phone numbers. He can't lie awake and think what would have happened if he didn't shun her. "Do you want to walk around now maybe?"

"Sure." She eagerly stands up.

She opens her bag and takes out her wallet. He holds his hand out. "You have to let me pay for your coffee, at least. I never paid you back for the hotel." The thought of the hotel room sends shivers down his spine.

Alex tosses a few bills to cover the check and then some. She giggles, "You finally have Euros."

He shrugs with a hidden smirk too shy to show him how pleased he is that she remembers. Even if it's his dorky mistake. "A little more prepared this time."

They exit the cafe into the Latin Quarter with Lottie leading the way to their next location. Their pace is the same as it was in Brussels. In step with one another through talks of one another's lives.

"What has the last 11 years been like for you?" She returns his question to him. "I mean," she admits, "I know some of it."

Alex narrows his eyes at her. "You've been keeping tabs on me, Lottie?"

She breaks eye contact away from him and shrugs but the smile that breaks through tells him everything he needs to know. He gets too much of a kick of that. "Well, you're not the easiest to avoid. I also did get really into your music after, you know, Brussels and all."

It pleases him until a realization drops his heart into his gut. He looks for a display of any reaction on her face but she keeps steady and walks ahead. He won't say it if she doesn't. Maybe she doesn't even know. Maybe only he paid attention to that kind of thing. Maybe only he paid attention to their hotel room number.

"I mean," he exhales loudly. "Everything you know is probably the extent."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on, in the last 11 years all you've done is music. That's not true."

And, sure, it's not, but it kind of is. He doesn't want to tell her about his ex-girlfriends and he doesn't need to indulge her in whatever stupid stories he has of LA. "I think it is. It sounds pretty depressing, doesn't it?"

She shakes her head. "I don't think so. You're living a pretty cool life. Unless you don't see it that way."

"No, it's just..."

"What?"

"I feel like I've been in the same place since I was 21. I'm stuck in some cycle that I can't stop. I know I've changed and I've had experiences. I mean, I lived in New York for a little and I've been in LA for a while but when you're touring for more than a year at a time for pretty much a decade, it's hard to feel significant changes."

"I feel the same way since moving back to Paris."

"Really?" It's hard to feel like anyone knows how he feels. Everyone around him has had big life changes and he feels...the same.

"Boston was a whirlwind but it was my 20s. Now, I get up and go to work every day and I go home and repeat it. I have friends and we go out for dinners but I'm not getting married, I'm not having children, and I'm not visiting Antarctica. I'm still. For years, I liked that feeling but now..."

He finishes, "You feel stuck."

"Yeah. I swear I'm not depressed. I'm not going to throw myself in the Seine or anything."

He chuckles. "No, no. I know what you mean. It's just growing pains."

"Pft," she says, "at 32 I thought that would be over with."

"I don't think it ever goes away."

"At least I'm not getting zits anymore."

"Small victories."

She points her finger out. "There's this park, the Luxembourg Gardens, down the road. It's beautiful if you'd like to go."

And just like before, where she leads, he will follow.

"My father died last year," she tells him.

He isn't sure what to say. For the first time, he touches her, places his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head and shrugs. "No need. I never really knew him."

"Oh," he says, "I didn't know that." He suddenly realizes that the perception he had of Lottie for the last decade has been shaped by one day, not even a full 24 hours. A time they spent together where he didn't even know that she never knew her father.

"Yeah, I never—I don't talk about it very much. I feel like I've finally started to work through some of the childhood trauma shit that I swept under the rug for so many years. My parents' relationship was complicated."

"In what way? I don't mean to be nosy—"

She interrupts to reassure, "Never. You never are." She smiles over at him like a sunray. "I like telling you these things. It feels like a vessel I can put it in and send out to sea. I know you'll never tell another soul, right?"

He motions locking his lips and tossing the key. It makes her giggle and he forgot the thrill he got from doing that.

"My father was married when my maman had my brother and me. Never divorced his wife. I have a half-sister I've never met. She's like 20 years older than me."

Alex doesn't mean to have a visible reaction but he can't help but utter, "Wow."

"Yeah." She slips her hands into her jeans' pockets. "I don't know. I've been trying to work my way through all of it. I think I feel grief over it but I'm not sure if I'm mourning his death or the potential relationship we could have had."

"I don't know. I've never been in that type of situation with death. You know, the finality of everything. But with people that I've drifted away from, I imagine all these what-ifs." It's hard to ignore the person he's talking about is right next to him. "What I could have done differently to make them stay or like me or whatever but I've realized that no matter what you do it doesn't change the way the other person is. With your dad, I can't imagine not wanting to know you. Something must have been wrong with him."

"Probably," she agrees before laughing. The thickness of the conversation is split in two as they both laugh lightness into the air.

"So, you just grew up with your brother and mother?" Alex asks.

Lottie pulls a face, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips. "I wish. My mom had her series of boyfriends. Some better, some worse. Nothing bad and she never married any of them but it was a weird revolving door. The longest one was the British diplomat. That's why my English is so good. Well, if I do say so myself."

"I still can't speak a lick of French so you're 1000 times better than me."

"I can't help it if I'm so fabulous," she jokes as she skips into the gardens. He's left watching her cheer from six paces behind. Mirth floods him and he feels a snap inside him like a glowstick coming to life. She's lit him up all over again. Prescribed him exactly what he needs. If he was smart, he'd leave now. He got his fix and he should go to the concert venue and leave it at that. He walks into the Luxembourg Gardens.

Alex follows her as she walks through the green parterre of gravel and lawn. The area is decently populated but the wide expansion of the park prevents any crowding. He can't stop staring at the back of her. It's not in some sexual desire way. He's not staring at her ass. He's not really focused on one area. He watches the way her trainers plant their way into the ground. The way her bandana flutters from the wind. The way her hair moves slightly side-to-side with each movement. He wonders if she takes him in this way. Noticed the way his loafers tap into one another every once in a while when he's walking. The way his hands are in his jacket to prevent the wind from blowing it around. The way he has had to keep pushing his hair behind his ears.

Then, she stops and sits in one of the metal chairs they have, Alex sits across from her, and she says, "Your hair is longer."

Witch! She must be psychic. He pushes his hair behind his ear again as if on instinct. "Yeah, that's different. It's changed a lot through the years."

"Yeah, I know. The quiff was a funny one."

"Are you mocking me?" He leans closer and teases.

She giggles. "No, never."

"You don't look too different to me."

She scrunches her face up and scoffs, "Yeah, how plain am I."

Alex shakes his head slowly. "Not plain. You don't need to change anything about you. You were beautiful then and you're beautiful now." He's trending in territory he shouldn't but it makes her smile, like really smile. She turns her head away from him and covers her mouth with her hand.

"Whereas you still look ugly," she mocks with a smug smile.

His jaw opens dramatically. "You are mean, Lottie."

"I'm kidding," she reassures. "You've always been a charming-looking man."

"You make it sound like I'm some dandy."

Her face twists up again. "What's that?"

"A dandy?" She nods. "For once, I know something you don't."

"You know many things I don't."

"Yeah, right."

"I can't carry a tune to save my life. In fact, I should win an award for not attempting to ever play music."

"I don't know. I think if you applied yourself to it you could be good."

"Are you trying to recruit me to your music school, Mr. Turner?" It's the first time she's said his last name ever and he realizes he doesn't know hers.

"You could be a good triangle player." She punches his arm when he says that. He asks, "What's your last name?"

She smirks. "Guess."

"I don't know. Something really French."

"No. Guess."

"I don't know," he says again. "Something like Bonaparte or whatever."

"No. Guess."

"We're going to be here all day if you don't at least help me narrow it down."

She grabs hold of his face, hands on his cheeks, which are growing embarrassingly rosy. "My last name is Guess."

His face drops. "Wait. Your last name is Guess. Charlotte Guess."

"Yes and ew. Don't call me Charlotte."

He sighs loudly, "I don't know, Charlotte. You put me through a lot of trouble there."

She relinquishes her hold on his face and leans back in her chair. He's unnerved by how the cold rushes to his body as soon as she isn't close. "You'll manage."

She oozes cool, always has. She props a leg up on the chair and leans back with such freeness that wasn't there 11 years ago. She's not twisted up inside, she looks relaxed. He wants to ask her how to get there. Lately, he's felt like knots of stress. Any effort to dissipate has been met unsuccessfully because he can't put a finger on what's causing all of it.

"You know," she says, "I do have to interview you at some point."

He waves her off. "I know, I know, but I'm still adjusting to the fact that I'm seeing you right now. I want to know more about you."

That hint of a smile comes back to her cheeks. "Like what?" The tip of her shoe knocks on his shoe and he isn't sure what to make of it. Looks down and wishes he could take a photo of it.

"Do you still paint?"

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head in disbelief. "You remember that I paint?"

Alex doesn't see it as a big deal. Why wouldn't he remember all those little things? "Yeah, and you're a decent cook, right?"

"Jesus," she lets out under her breath. A quickened heart rate and a brush of pink to her cheeks. "I don't even think my mother remembers I paint. I still do it from time to time. I was never very good at it."

He shakes his head. "I doubt that."

"You never seen anything I've painted."

"I don't need to see it to believe it. If you think it's bad it's probably better than what most people, including myself—especially myself—can do."

"Well, maybe if you're lucky I show you something."

"I'd like that." He hates how much he'd like that. "What do you paint?"

She shrugs. "This. That. Abstract kind of things. I like painting faces but I'm not very good at that. I get the proportions all mixed up."

"Like Magritte or something?" He chuckles.

She shakes her head. "Not quite. More like that botched restoration of that Jesus painting."

Alex can't help but think of the two of them standing before A Stroke of Luck and the cigar, but not a cigar painting (so, screw him, he can't remember the name of it). His mind can't help but reminisce on them in the park sitting in the grass afterward. Lottie, delicate and cherubic, picking flowers to place behind his ear, and then, kissing her. If he reaches out into the memory, he can practically still feel his hands on her skin.

"Do you want to go to another art museum?"

"What like the Louvre?"

"Sure."

She laughs. "I am not going to the Louvre."

But Alex is already standing and reaching his hand out to her. "Come on, I've never been."

She sighs and places her hand in his. It's soft like a baby's freshly washed skin. His hand feels rough against the smooth surface, callouses old and new can be felt. Alex pulls her up out of her chair and they begin to walk to the park's exit. "How have you never been to the Louvre?"

"I've never had time," he explains. "Generally when I've visited Paris it's been for a limited number of days."

"But didn't you record the album in La Frette? Couldn't come in on a day off for the Louvre?" She's still holding his hand. He's not being responsible, he knows.

In fact, he's passed irresponsible when he leans in close to her ear and says, "I missed when you didn't know anything about me."

She giggles and shrugs her shoulders. "I'm the one taking you to the Louvre at 1 in the afternoon with no tickets. I think you can manage the sacrifice."

"You must go all the time considering your job," Alex says.

Lottie says, "Oh, I haven't been to the Louvre in over a decade," before bursting out into laughter.

"And you're shaming me for having never gone?"

She lets go of his hand and wags her finger at him. "Hey, I have at least gone. Multiple times! And the Louvre isn't exactly a place getting new and upcoming art all the time." She drops her hand back down to her side. Their hands never re-intertwined. "The last time I went I was 17 and I made out in the staircase with Alain Millardet the whole time."

"So, you really saw all the sights." He follows her directions as they cross the street.

Lottie gags from the memory alone. "He was a horrible kisser and we ended up getting caught by an employee. They told our school—our Catholic school, by the way—and it was the only time I ever got in trouble. The only thing that lessened the blow was that my maman was away with her boyfriend and never found out."

"You were a goody-two-shoes in school," Alex teases.

Lottie squishes up her face. "What does that mean?"

He grins at the way her little button nose is scrunched up, her eyes slightly squinted, the wrinkle formed between her brows. "Just means you're a rule follower."

"Oh." She giggles. "I just didn't get caught." Every inch of her intrigues him. The secrets she has buried deep within that he has an eagerness to uncover. The flip of her hair as she walks her way down the streets. Her hands clutch the brown leather strap of her bag. Those blue eyes glancing over at him as ripples of laughter echo through her.

They begin to cross over the Seine when she tells him, "This is the Pont des Arts. It used to be covered in locks, you know, the thing where couples put a lock on the bridge and throw away the key, but they had to remove it after the bridge nearly collapsed, which thank god because I had one with my ex-boyfriend on it and I couldn't bear the thought that we would be locked here together eternally."

Alex chuckles and puts his hands in his pockets. "Me first girlfriend did that with the lock she used for her locker. At the end of the school year, she wrote our names on the back and locked it to a fence. About a month after we broke up, I walked by the fence she'd put it on and it was gone. She had gone back and removed it."

"Aw," she coos, "poor girl. You probably broke her heart."

"Thanks for your lack of pity for me, Lot." She grins at the nickname. "How do you know she didn't break my heart?"

"Because only a heartbroken girl would go back and remove the lock."

"Yeah."

Alex gazes up and spots the glass pyramid, realizing they've already made their way to the Louvre. The courtyard is populated with people taking pictures of and with the structure. Someone is playing violin, likely busking, in the distance.

As they approach the building, Lottie gasps and then begins to laugh. "What?" Alex asks with a hint of his own reactive laughter.

She gives him a funny frown. "It's Tuesday, isn't it?"

Alex confusedly responds with a dragged-out "Yeah."

She snickers. "The Louvre is closed on Tuesdays."

They both just take to laughing in the middle of all the tourists. Lottie clutches his forearm, which he reciprocates, making their arms plank over each other. Then, Lottie suddenly stops, stands up straight, and looks him in the eye, saying, "Time for me to interview you."

Alex chuckles, "Nice try." He takes to guiding them out of the courtyard, walking ahead of her. "Where to next?"

She's right behind him. Alex can feel the edge of her bag touch his butt. "Are you trying to get me fired?"

The pleasure he gets out of taunting her should probably be illegal. "You'll get your interview," he promises. "I've already given you so much unknown information. I've never been to the Louvre, still to this day, my French is horrible, and I'm desperate to see some art so why don't you show me some of yours."

They pause at a crossing. "Are you trying to invite yourself to my apartment?" She has a habit of making him flustered easily. Her fluttering lashes flapped away at him. He swears they blow an ocean breeze his way.

He plays a tricky game. "Well, if we go to your apartment, maybe you'll finally get your interview." The light flashes green and he walks ahead.

She trails behind fighting a crooked grin. "I highly doubt that."

Alex hums.

Either way, they headed off in the direction of her place. Down the stairs to the metro where they wait for the 4 train. The platform is sparsely crowded, predictable for a Tuesday afternoon just before rush hour.

"I have to say something." Her demeanor is coy. She's holding her hand in a fist up against her mouth. Her eyes peer up at him demurely. "I've been debating whether to say it or not but I figure out with it. No secrets, you know."

Alex nods curiously. "Okay."

"The song."

The two words make a chill go through him. Spins around his spine and hits each vertebrae. She does know. He can't help but physically react, muttering, "Oh, god," and placing his hand on his forehead in exasperation.

She giggles at his reaction. He is only calmed by the fact that she doesn't sound pissed. Still, he feels embarrassed. "It's one of your most popular songs."

Alex doesn't care. He lived up off the hope that she had somehow missed that one. Or she only ever listened to the most recent album for her work assignment. When he wrote it, it was felt under the impression he would see her again. Not under the impression that in 11 years he would be standing on a metro platform with her about to be interviewed by her.

He re-establishes himself. He gets his footing, drops his hand from his face, and looks over at her. She's still looking amused by his reaction. The train pulls up to the station. "Which one?"

He is able to get a chuckle in when her jaw drops slightly. Feeling he has the upper hand, he hops on the train, having her dash behind him. Alex finds two empty seats and takes a seat next to the window. Lottie sits down next to him.

She seems to have composed herself. Tight jaw and curious lips. "Now, I meant 505, what are you on about?"

Alex shrugs. "Pft, who said 505 was about you?" He is staring straight ahead, calm, cool, and collected.

Her eyes are glued to him, watching his every move. "I'm not an idiot, Alex, I can read. Our hotel room was 505."

"Oh, what a weird coincidence." He is almost chuckling with pride in his humorous fibbing abilities.

"Come on. I doubt many girls were lying on their side with their hands between their thighs for you, Alex." That memory strikes him hard. If he closes his eyes for long enough, he can still trace the outline of her body in his mind, memorizing every crevice.

He chuckles with a wide grin. "It was a nice memory."

She crosses her arms in a pleased manner. "I knew it was about me."

"Yeah, well, I had a lovely time with you." His eyes are intently on hers. A knowing smile is splashed across his face.

She returns the favour. They are in a duel with their eyes, fighting grins in their smiles. "Me too."

"Good."

She leans in closer. "Now, what's this other song about me?"

Alex looks away from her, gazing at the station they are approaching. "I think this is our stop."

He tries to stand up and she grabs his arm and yanks him back down. "Shush. You have no clue where we are even getting off."

Her hand stays gripping his forearm, keeping them steady. His gaze is resistant if ever pleasurable. His eyes trained on the doors and unsure of what to say, tossing between giving it up or burying it away. He plays with his hands, bringing them together, and then apart, and then back together. "I wrote this song, you know, in the, uh, hypothetical sense."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, whatever that means. Out with it. You know, people are usually flattered by the thought someone would think of them enough to write a song about them. Let alone two."

"Alright," he calms. "The song isn't really all about you. I guess, you sparked the original idea."

She gestures for him to continue. "And?"

"Cornerstone."

She leans back against the train's wall. A small smirk plays on her face. "Really? You were seeing me all around town?"

He can't help but smile, although, forced to shield it behind his hands covering the surface area of his face. "Don't make me sound like a creep."

"No, no. It all feels like flattery." She looks like she wants to say something else but keeps it to herself. He's tempted to ask but she's pointing slowly to the train station and softly saying, "This is our stop."

They get up as the train stops. The doors stay closed though. "Flip the handle up," Lottie says.

He grabs hold of the door handle and follows her instructions. The door opens at a quick speed. So quick that Alex, still with his hand on the handle, nearly gets his arm yanked off. Lottie erupts in laughter behind him. He sucks in a breath and steps off the train. She places her hands on his shoulder as she follows behind him, too blind with laughter to properly guide herself.

"You're really making a fool out of me today." Alex turns around as they ride the escalator up.

She's still emitting giggles when she says, "I'm sorry. It was too tempting though."

Her apartment is just outside the metro station. The building, Haussmann in style, is cold and dark in the stairwell. Lottie tells him to watch his step as they head to the second floor before she flips on a switch outside her door. Before she unlocks it, she turns and tells him, "I'm a messy person and you have rudely barged in on me so you can not judge."

Alex agrees and she unlocks the door. She has, of course, exaggerated the mess of the place. It's a loft of a decent size. Her bed is in the far corner, unmade with a plum-coloured mandala-printed blanket thrown over it. Clothes from this morning are strewn about the floor. Her kitchen is small and her plate from breakfast is still in the sink. In the back corner, across from her bed is a collection of canvases. They are all turned inward making him unable to look at any of them.

Lottie stands awkwardly in the kitchen, hands behind her back, bobbing on her feet. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water? Alcohol?"

He chuckles at her delivery, struck by her grace. "I'll take a tea."

"Okay." She busies herself with that as he examines the room closely. A shelf of books piled to the brim. There's a vase of flowers on a lower shelf. On the bottom: a record collection. He smiles to himself. "Can I put on a record?"

"Sure," she absentmindedly says. She's showing Alex her tea packets: black, green, mint, ginger. Black, he picks.

She stills at the opening strings. Her heart patters at the clacking of the castanets. I found my love in Portofino...

She dips the tea bags into the hot water and turns around. She leans against the counter, staring at him at the place he has taken on her small loveseat. "You know, I got a record player because of this album."

His arms are crossed and he looks pleased with himself. "Inspiring a new generation to buy records. You know, AM is one of the best-selling vinyls of the 2010s."

She squints playfully. "Are you usually this boastful about yourself?"

"Stop, you're making me feel like a self-absorbed asshole."

Lottie crosses her arms, playing his game back to him. "What's the saying? If the shoe fits."

"Hush now. Sit." He pats the seat beside him. The air is thick and she cuts through it by walking over to him with two cups of tea.

She prompts hopefully, "Interview time?"

Alex ignores her. "You know, I went and bought my own copy of this."

"The record?"

He nods. "God, I'm such a dweeb."

She shakes her head. "No. It's a good record."

He gazes over at her knowingly. His chin is tilted down and his eyes are blazing at her. "I didn't buy it because it was a good record."

Suddenly, she breaks. "You can't do that."

Alex gets the message, turns away, and focuses on the warm mug in his hand. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No," she reassures, calm and clear, "it's fine. I just can't sit next to you in my apartment with you saying things like that and not..."

"Not?" He tries to get more out of her.

She gazes over at him knowingly. Her chin is tilted down and her eyes are blazing at him. "You know."

He nods.

"I still have that photo of you. The one I took on that hill. It's buried deep in a drawer somewhere." She's tempting him and she knows it. She's not abandoning the topic of their romantic evening. She's not insisting on conducting an interview. She's flirting.

Alex smiles back pleased. "I probably look like a dork."

"Yeah," she dryly agrees making him laugh. "But a cute dork."

"Whenever I came to Paris, I would walk around, duck into all these cafes, and I had these visions of seeing you there. That's where Cornerstone came from," Alex confesses.

"I changed therapists because of you," Lottie confesses.

"What?"

She leans on her arm against the back of the couch. "It wasn't because I moved away. I came back from Brussels and told her about you and she said that you were a fantasy but not a realistic man. I shouldn't get my hopes up on delusions and should invest myself in some reliable man. That I was falling for a rockstar who probably did that thing all the time. The whole time she's saying this to me, I'm thinking, 'She has no fucking clue what she's talking about. Reliablity? Who has reliability at 21? My porn-addict boyfriend.'"

Alex laughs. "I still really love this porn-addict boyfriend of yours."

"Well, you and my therapist." The room goes quiet. She sinks into a corner of the couch and sighs. "So, you were the final straw."

"I've done that cafe shit every time I've been to Paris."

"What?" She sits up straighter.

"I just—I've always wanted to talk to you again. It felt weird when you didn't show up in July. I figured, or maybe hoped, something big happened for you not to be there."

She's stiff and awkward and looks down at her legs, awkwardly stiff. "I tried to be there. I wanted to. You have to know, if it weren't for the program, I would've. I mean, I still go to your shows, and listen to your records, and, for crying out loud, I harrassed my boss into letting me interview you. He probably thinks I'm some obsessive fan."

"Harrassed?" He raises an eyebrow in amusement.

Lottie looks up sheepishly with a shy smile. "Yeah, well, at this rate, I'm not even gonna have an interview."

"You'll have an interview. I'll give you the best fucking interview." There's something in the way he looks at her. The tone of his voice makes her believe he is a lion and she's the gazelle he's waiting to maul. But those eyes, soft and dreamy. Eyes she could fall asleep next to every night.

"And then you look at me like that and you think you're the soppy one. I'm falling to bits over here. I've felt crazy for 11 years but then you look at me like that."

"Why'd you feel crazy?"

"I thought I made the whole thing up in my head. Like I was some psycho who imagined a whole night with you just because I liked your song. I mean, I ruined every relationship because I was hung up on you."

"What?"

"And now I'm ruining any possible relationship with you by blabbing on about this. I can't help it, you've infected me, you've ruined me, and I sound crazy." She's messing with her hair to really emphasize this fact. "But I'm stuck on the Boston T, riding the slowest train ever, sitting next to this guy I'm about to marry, and we have nothing to talk about, and all I'm thinking is 4 years ago I got on the wrong train."

Her breathing is heavy. Rattling and refusing to calm her heart down. She can't distinguish what his eyes mean.

Alex is quiet when he speaks. "Fucking hell, Lot."

Any move he thinks about making is interrupted when she quickly stands from the couch and separates herself from him by pacing in the kitchen. She clutches her hands around her face, cheeks trying red. She takes a deep breath and says, "I think you should leave. I'm sorry for that whole display. I'm so lost in myself and I'm crazy and I'm sorry."

Alex stands and takes a step toward her. She takes one back like they are the same side of a magnet repelling one another. "Lottie."

"I'm sorry."

He takes a moment for himself too. Runs his hands through his hair, heart pounding he puts his hand over to still it and takes a deep breath. "No," he insists. "First, you're not crazy. Second, I haven't seen you in 11 years and I have thought about you for too long to let you go—go on that other train again." Something chokes him inside. Maybe it's the guilt, the thought of his girlfriend back home. Maybe it's Lottie, who looks two steps away from crying, and all he can think about is being left on that train platform again. "Third, we have to do the interview."

"Oh, god, that stupid interview." And then he laughs. So, she laughs.

Alex attempts to step toward her again, cautiously like she's a cat he is afraid he is going to scare off. She stays in her place. He leans down and hugs her. She's hesitant but then she hugs back. Tight like they are each a moment away from slipping out of one another's grasp.

Alex pulls away, but keeps an arm around her back, pushing them toward her front door. "So, let's go eat some lunch and do an interview."

She sniffles and then smiles over at him in a remorseful manner. "Okay."

They head to the cafe on the street corner. The conversation grew lighter and Alex joked that he still didn't get to see her paintings. She countered that she still hadn't interviewed him.

On opposite sides of the table, each holds a cigarette and chats over an ashtray. Lottie asks him questions regarding the album and Alex answers formally, which is almost too proper and comes off more jokey than serious. Nonetheless, she quotes him on it.

He grows hot and takes his jacket off, halfway through, around the time their dishes arrive. The interview, more-or-less, ends there as they each inhale their meals and split the stack of bread. "I'll be here tomorrow too, you know."

She nods. Of course, she knows.

"We could do the Louvre then."

She smiles with amusement at him. "You're really obsessed with the Louvre."

"I'm determined to go and now to get you to go. Maybe we'll makeout in the stairway and get caught by one of the nuns." The comment is cheeky and they both laugh at it, even if it should hold more guilty weight than it does.

A woman then approaches them. She's old, enough to be someone's great-grandmother. She speaks in French to Lottie, who has grown a furrowed brow, as she repeatably says no to the woman, who holds up a necklace at her.

"What's she saying?" Alex inquires.

Lottie sighs and says warningly, "Alex."

The woman smiles big and looks over at Alex. She speaks very broken English, but tells him, "Her neck, nothing." She gestures over to Lottie's bare neck, the way her top pulls down (notes of cleavage, but he's got to get his mind out of the gutter), accentuating the bareness of it. Alex has shameful thoughts in remembrance of kissing it. Fuck, he's screwed, if the pull of his pants says anything. The woman holds the necklace high in her hand. "For beauty. Beautiful woman needs beauty."

Lottie begins to speak in French to the woman as Alex wordlessly reaches into his wallet and pulls out a bill. The woman lights up in delight and accepts the €20 as Lottie shakes her head. "Her ears, nothing," the woman tries to push more.

Alex cheerfully says, "No, no, just the necklace. Merci beaucoup." The woman attempts again but Alex ignores her and her English is too poor to keep trying for another sale.

Lottie is staring at him. He can't decipher if it's a look of pleasure or unease. "You shouldn't have done that."

"The necklace is nice and I gave the poor woman some money. Now put it on."

She stays still for a moment but gives in and sits up to accept the necklace. It's simple. A chain with a small blue pendant on the bottom. It matches her eyes. She mutters a thank you, if for the gesture alone. After a few careful tries, she clasps the necklace. "I'll probably get some sort of infection from it."

He chuckles. "Probably."

They sit in silence with one another. They are stuck in the middle of a staring contest where fireworks spark between them. Alex breaks it and looks down at his empty plate, a flush of shyness overcoming him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Are you interviewing me now?" She giggles, pleased with her joke.

"Hey! I let you get all your questions in. It's my turn," he insists.

She relaxes back in her chair and crosses her legs. "Okay."

"What do you think would have happened if you got on the train with me? Or if you showed up to the concert?"

It draws a rough breath out of her. "We wouldn't have worked out."

His heart stills. It's not the answer he expected. All that wishful thinking that had swirled in his mind for the last 11 years. The feeling that if he had been able to convince her or was able to find her, they'd be living happily ever after. "Really?

She shakes her head. "Are you kidding? I was a mess. I had no idea of a future for myself. I would have been in Paris or Boston and you would have been on the road all the time. I would've definitely been one of those girls who thought you were cheating on her the whole time. I probably would have convinced myself of it and not believed you when you told me the truth. I was born the product of an affair. It is my blueprint to assume every guy I'm with is getting it somewhere else."

Alex feels hungover with guilt at the thought that what he is doing right now might as well be an affair, if only emotionally. He sighs, "Yeah, I mean, I was a mess for like...forever." They both laugh. "Every time I feel like I've gotten my shit together. Something comes along to pull the rug out from under me."

"What's it this time?" She's staring at him, doe-eyed and smiling.

He can't think of an excuse. So, he's honest. "You."

She's not offended by it. She smiles, though she does try and suppress it. "We should probably go to the venue. Right?"

Alex nods like hiding himself from the Parisian streets will get him out of this mess. Lottie insists on paying the bill, mainly because she isn't paying the bill, her work is. They could take a car over to the venue but Alex is overly enthusiastic about riding the metro over. "I have to redeem my shame. You know, in London we just have the button, so I can't be blamed for not knowing how to open the train door."

Lottie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

At the venue, Alex gives Lottie a quick introduction to his bandmates. He says nothing more than, "This is Lottie, the journalist," but they all respond with knowing looks. Alex gives her a tour, mostly through her insistence that it would be cool for the article if she could set the scene for the reader. Alex says, "You're a painter with your words." She rolls her eyes and he gives her the tour.

"And a soundcheck, what's that like?" She asks before, you guessed it, soundcheck.

Alex shrugs. He tends to be short with answers for most interviews, but with Lottie it's different. Not once has it felt like he is being interviewed. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing. "It's...good. You know, making sure everything works. Good, fun."

She's cheery with her questions like the kid who constantly raises their hand in class but she's endearingly earnest and the way she scribbles notes in her little notepad makes it feel so much more authentic than when someone sits a tape recorder in on their conversation.

She watches soundcheck in the same way. She'll write a little note at the end of each song but then she'll rest in her chair and observe the full play out.

Backstage, Alex separates himself and Lottie from the rest of the group, which is notable. He wishes they were walking around still, escaping all their responsibilities just like they were doing in Brussels. He supposes that's growing up.

Lottie says, "It's good. Last time I was a bumbling clueless girl with no idea of her future. Now, I'm a bumbling clueless woman with no idea of her future."

"Oh, come on, you have a great job. You're interviewing me and that might be one of the hardest tasks ever and you're doing amazing," Alex reassures.

She nods. "I know. I love my job but that's all I have. It's crazy when we were in Brussels, all I wanted was to figure out what I wanted to be. I finally did that and I feel just as lost."

"In what way?"

She thinks for a moment, deciding how she wants to form her words. "I wish I was like my old self more. You know, I used to be so hopeful, so romantic about the world. About myself. About the future. Now, I just think I'm going to be alone forever." She is quick to correct herself. "And—and I don't mean I have nobody. I have a great set of friends. I love my life but when I look toward the future, I see nothing. For so long, I didn't know what I wanted but there were always possibilities. Now, I don't know."

"I feel the same way," Alex confesses.

Lottie lifts her head in surprise. "Really?"

He nods. "It's what used to be so exciting about my life. Being in a new city every day and being able to set your own path. I still like most of that stuff but I feel behind everyone else in a way. You know, like how all the guys have kids and I don't think I'm ready for kids but should I be ready for kids? Do I want that? To be married? To have a family?"

"I don't think you're ever ready for that kind of thing. You are just ready for the feeling. You'll never be prepared enough for children that's what everyone says but I had a thought a while ago when, well, I had this pregnancy scare, which really was terrifying because the guy I was with is not a guy you want to have children with. My first thought for so long would have been 'I don't want children. I will not be birthing anything in my lifetime.' But when I had this scare, I think I liked the idea. Then, the test was negative and I breathed a huge sigh of relief." Alex chuckles at her dramatics as she talks with her hands. "But for those couple of minutes, I thought that being a mother wouldn't be so bad."

Alex smiles at her. "You'd be a great mother."

She looks up at him, all hopeful and disbelieving. "Do you really think so?"

Alex nods. "A few anti-depressants and you'll be fine."

Lottie rolls her eyes and raises her hands and starts moving her fingers. "Say stop."

"Stop."

She stops, extending her middle fingers only, flipping him off.

"That's good. Can I steal that?"

Lottie shrugs. "I don't have copyright on it."

A stagehand comes over and they realize how much time has escaped from them. Alex shuffles fixing his jacket as he stands, going into rockstar mode. "How'd I look?" He imitates a deep voice, gruffly and surly.

She giggles. "Like an asshole."

"You're so kind to me, Lottie."

"Maybe lose the jacket," she advises. Total professional opinion and not because he has three buttons loose on that white button-up that make her crave his skin. She's going too far, she knows, but she's a single woman. It's fine for her to observe.

Alex shakes his head and tightens his hands around the lapels. "I'm going to keep it on just to spite you." (He takes it off 4 songs in).

She walks him up the stairs to the stage but then says teasingly, "I'm going to watch from my assigned seat if that's alright with you."

He chuckles. "I'll look for you in the crowd."

She turns to leave and it's almost like she's fading from him all over again. Sure, they could get drinks after this and there's that rough plan for the Louvre tomorrow, but the image of her back to him walking away strikes something in him. "Hey, Lottie!" He calls out.

Alex catches her before she walks down the stairs. She turns around, curious eyes, curious smile. He's 21 and he's on a train to Brussels. He's 32 and he's in a cafe in Paris. No more what could have been. He knows.

"I think it would have worked out."

Lottie looks at him from across the wing. He toys with his fingers, hopeful eyes, hopeful smile. She's 21 and she's on a train platform in Brussels. She's 32 and she's backstage at a concert in Paris. No more doubts. She knows.

"I think so too."

a/n: part 3? i don't know. maybe...

#alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner fluff #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #junedenim #alex turner smut

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heaven4lostgirls · 2 years

Text

a slice of heaven

artist!james potter x fem!reader

tags: fluff, friends to lovers, james being cute<3

summary: james drawing on you<3

james had always been an artist, he had developed his skill through school as he spent most of his classes doodling in his notebooks rather than listening to slughorn drone on and on about whatever potion they were learning.

when he met you, you had noticed his little doodles taking place in his notebook rather than his notes so all you did was slightly slide your hand over and tap the pen motioning it was okay for him to draw on you.

slowly but surely you would leave your classes with little snitches and dragons drawn on you, sometimes they were related to what the teacher was talking about, other times he just drew what came to mind.

it had become a habit for you to lean your hand out whenever james would sit next to you and when you didn’t he would grab your hand from your side of the table and drag it to his.

you had figured out that although it seemed like he wasn’t paying attention, his drawings told you differently, it helped him focus. his brain couldn’t keep up with the noise so drawing had helped him centre himself.

you weren’t a shy person but you didn’t have it in you to bring up to james the little situation you both had going on, however it seemed you didn’t have to as james waved you over to sit next to him and his friends.

the famous marauders, you had seen them walking around school however you had never directly spoken to any of them for more than five minutes and that alone would mostly be about group projects or classes you were both in.

“y/n! how are you? i wanted to know if you wanted to sit with me and my friends?” james asked shyly as he smiled up at you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“yeah, sure! hi i’m y/n, i share potions with you guys” she smiles at them and remus smiles back kindly as sirius smirks, seemingly coming to a realization.

“say you wouldn’t be the one who lets prongs’ draw on your hand would you?” he asks slyly

james blushes and you nod somewhat confused on how he’s realized, i mean the idea isn’t entirely perplexing as you would walk around hogwarts with little drawings on your hands but you didn’t think you had made it that obvious.

“that’s me, that’s a bit stalkerish that you know that sirius” he gasps as if he’s somewhat offended by your words as remus snorts a laugh.

“i just wanted to know who the girl is that james always goes on abou-“

“RIGHT! that’s enough out of you mate” james quickly states as he flushes and pulls you away from the group.

“sorry about them, they’re not usually that annoying” he sighs.

“it’s alright, they seem really nice” you smile and you see his eyes drop to your hands which are still interlocked. you try to pull away out of embarrassment however you holds them tighter before his eyes widen.

“holy shit, is that a tattoo?” he questions and you’re suddenly confused before you smile to yourself.

“yeah, it’s-“

“the deer i drew on your hand” he says shocked.

“yeah it was really cute so charmed it to stay there” you smile as he rubs his finger over your ‘tattoo’.

“that’s sick, i didn’t think that you’d like it that much”

“it reminded me of my patronus and i thought it was cute-“

“wait what?”

“i thought it was cute?”

“no the part about your patronus-“

“oh yeah! it’s a doe! it’s kind of odd but i really like it”

james is shocked. his hands still and you think you’ve said something wrong before he looks at you.

“mines a deer”

you smile to yourself again.

“coincidence hm?”

“yeah, definitely…do you wanna maybe, i don’t know go to hogsmead later? i mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to but i would like to take you out-“

“JAMES! relax, i would love to”

“really?”

“yes really, idiot.”

“now that was uncalled for”

#james potter x reader #james potter #marauders #juliwrites #harry potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter fluff

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juceynightmare · 1 year

Text

dating 101 (18+) part 6 - cody rhodes x reader

my masterlist

dating 101 (18+) masterlist

pairing(s): cody rhodes x reader, roman reigns x reader

warning(s): swearing, sexual tension, use of pet names, grinding, dirty dancing, slight hair pulling, possessive!cody if you squint, corruption kink if you squint

genre(s): college!au, slow burn, fluff, some sexual content

|| previous part || next part ||

“holy shit guys, you won’t believe what happened with roman and i.” y/n began as she walked straight into ted and cody’s room. the two boys were at their desks working, but had stopped to turn and stare at y/n. ted’s gaze looking y/n up and down as he whistled lowly.

“holy shit y/n. this is all for roman?” ted questioned, meeting y/n’s gaze. he watched her cheeks flush, smiling at how y/n had shyly nodded her head.

“but that’s beside the point! guess who’s going to that party with you tomorrow cody?” y/n grinned widely, turning her attention to cody. “me! roman texted me all the details. not only that, but he said he could come pick us up and we can all head over together!” y/n walked over to cody’s bed, taking a seat on it and setting her bag down on his mattress.

“what?” cody questioned, turning so his whole body was facing y/n. “you’re actually coming to one of our events?”

“yes! roman invited me and you know, it’d be good to put myself out there. he also called me babygirl.” y/n replied, her voice softening to a whisper at the end of her phrase.

ted whooped and hollered behind cody, rolling his chair over so he could reach out to give y/n a high five. “holy shit codes, our girl’s growing up! she’s actually in!” he laughed, resting his hand on cody’s shoulder.

cody shook is head in disbelief, although there was a smile on his face. “i can’t believe it. everything’s falling a little too perfectly into place.” he laughed, reaching over to also give y/n a high five.

“that’s really all i had to update you guys on before we head out to dinner, sorry i got excited.” she laughed, standing up from her seat. “come on! i’m starving and we’re already 2 minutes past our normal dinner time.” y/n didn’t wait for the boys to stand up, already making her way out of the room. they had long legs anyway.

cody and ted both stood up after her, grabbing their keys and shutting the door after leaving the room. the two men were a pace behind y/n, their gazes fixed lower than they usually would.

cody smacked ted upside the head first, mumbling lowly to him, “don’t stare at her like she’s a piece of meat.”

“hey, you were staring too.” ted defended himself in a whisper.

“ok and?” cody huffed out. the two men eventually picked up the pace and took their rightful place walking on either side of y/n as they made their way to the dining commons.

she should wear those pants more often. the two men thought.

ted split from cody and y/n after dinner, heading off to meet with a girl he had met on a dating app and had actually hit it off with. this left y/n and cody alone in y/n’s room as y/n began to hold up different combinations of outfits to wear to the party.

“sweetheart, i’m telling you, you should wear something you don’t mind getting dirty. no matter what, someone will spill their drink on you.” cody told her from where he was sat at her desk, his macbook and ipad in front of him as he did his homework. he’d look over at y/n whenever she called for his attention, and would give her his honest thoughts about the outfits she would lay out.

“ok, then how about this? if someone spills on me it won’t show, and i think i’d look real cute in this.” y/n asked, as she held up a pair of black leather pants and a black lace up backless sequins butterfly cami top.

cody turned his head and stared at the outfit, humming lowly with thought. “go to the restroom and put it on. i’ll tell you afterwards.” he waved her off to the bathroom with his hand, averting his attention back to his work.

y/n walked over to her desk, pushing cody back a bit so she could open one of her drawers and pulled out a pair of pasties. “i’ll be quick!” she told him, before walking off to get changed in the restroom.

she returned after a moment, her previous clothes in one hand. she set her clothes down on top of her dresser before facing cody. she put her hands on her hips and shifted her weight over to one side. “alright what do we think? i think i look good.” she asked.

cody finished his problem before setting down his apple pencil. he turned his head to look at y/n, looking her up and down just as he did that same morning. “turn around for me.” he mumbled lowly, licking his lips as y/n slowly turned in a circle.

“close the door.” cody ordered her, pushing the chair out further from the desk and turning so he could face her completely. he could see the confusion on her face, as her brows had furrowed cutely. “i’m not repeating myself, sweetheart.” cody continued, a sultry tone dripping down his chin like honey.

he watched as y/n obeyed, walking over to the door and shutting it. she turned to face cody, her cheeks dusted pink.

“is there a reason why i had to close the door?” she asked, watching as cody stood from his seat. he took a step forward, and y/n took a step back in response. this continued until y/n’s back was pressed flush against the door and cody was stood in front of her.

“we’re going to a party. a party that the guy you’re interested in invited you to, correct?” he questioned, resting one of his arms above y/n’s head and leaning closer to her. a devilish smile appeared on his face as he watched y/n gulp and nod her head in response.

“so it’s safe to assume that there will be people touching you, and you’ll have to get used to being pressed up against people.” cody whispered lowly. “and you’ll have to be mentally prepared in case he decides to get as close to you as i am right now.”

y/n stared into cody’s gaze, her eyes wide in shock. she never understood the appeal of cody, even after she had gotten to know him and spent countless hours with him. but now, with cody having backed her into the door and leaning down over her, a fire was started in her stomach.

“is, is this lesson two?” she asked, her voice shaky.

cody leaned back, removing his arm from where it rested above her head, and took a full step away from y/n. “smart girl.” he praised. “you’ve just gotten used to how touchy ted and i are, but i bet you piss yourself whenever you even sit next to roman.”

y/n’s blush deepened at his comment, and she lightly smacked cody in the chest. “shut up!” she whined out, although that was all the confirmation cody needed.

“sorry about suddenly getting so close to you, sweetheart. had to make sure you haven’t gotten too used to me being all touchy.” cody apologized, to which y/n reassured him they were okay. “now, may i?” he asked, holding his hand out for y/n to take.

“what? may you what?” she questioned skeptically, not knowing what exactly cody had planned.

“touch you.” cody replied in a monotone that was almost unsettling on the ears. “sweetheart, you look absolutely devilish in your outfit. i’d applaud roman if he didn’t even feel a little bit tempted to place his hands on you. but i know you’re not used to that, so that’s why i’m here.” he smiled, moving his hand a bit as if to tell her to take his hand. “do you trust me?”

and once again, y/n took cody’s hand.

cody laced their fingers together and pulled y/n close to him. their interlocked hands were kept down at their side, while cody’s other hand rested lightly along her back. the contact sent shivers up her spine, to which cody laughed at.

“the top is beautiful, you look heavenly in it. the exposed back though,” he mumbled, his fingers gently grazing up and down along her spine. cody brought his head down to whisper in y/n’s ear, “is absolutely sinful.”

“cody” y/n breathed out, chills being sent down her spine at cody’s touch along her back. her voice was light and shaky, clearly affected by the way cody was touching her. she squeezed his hand, and he replied by rubbing his thumb in circles into the back of her hand.

“yes, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling his head away so he could look down at y/n’s reactions.

“keep going.” y/n whispered, meeting cody’s gaze.

her wide doe eyes and her words had flicked a switch in cody’s brain, and the man’s gaze had darkened.

“look at how you’re reacting to my touch, y/n. you’re so delicate.” cody whispered, letting go of y/n’s hand so he could wrap his arm around her waist. he pulled her closer to him by the waist, their hips pressed together. cody thanked whatever higher power there was for the fact that he was wearing jeans - his hard-on was more manageable in them.

“do you know how to dance?” he asked her, removing his hand from her back so he could push her hair away from her face.

“dance like… dance like how? i was in a dance group back in high school.” y/n questioned, which earned her a loud heart laugh from cody. he shook his head in amusement, and y/n reflected his wide smile.

“no, silly girl. i’m talking like when you dance with a guy and a party, and you get into all the dirty grinding.” he clarified, watching as y/n’s eyes grew wide in astonishment.

“that’s an actual thing? like it’s not just something in the movies?” she questioned as cody pulled away from her. y/n watched as cody grabbed his phone and swiped away at it until some generic sensual music began to play through its speakers.

“yes, sweetheart. it’s an actual thing, now let me see you move those hips.” cody cheered out with a laugh.

it was odd the way the two could go from the thickest sexual tension that cody had ever felt in his life to going back to being two best friends goofing off and dancing hilariously to music.

he watched as y/n moved along to the music, laughing at the funny faces she’d pull to make him laugh.

“why aren’t you dancing with me cody? i thought you’re supposed to teach me.” y/n whined out, grabbing cody’s hands and placing them on her hips.

cody pulled her in, moving along with her as they danced along to the music. eventually, y/n turned around and pressed her ass right against cody’s hips, to which cody responded by wrapping his arms around her waist.

“what are you doing now, y/n?” he whispered in her ear, feeling her grind back against him in time with the music. cody was trying his hardest not to pull y/n back further into him, although his body betrayed him as he grinded against her.

“just doing what i’ve seen in the movies.” she gasped out once she felt him against her ass. y/n brought her hands up, her hands getting lost in cody’s hair as she gently tugged on it.

cody lowered his head, his lips grazing against y/n’s neck as he kissed her there. one of his arms stayed wrapped around her waist, while the other had trailed upwards. cody’s hand rested against her breast, although he didn’t make any other motions.

“what else did those movies teach you?” he asked, pressing a gentle kiss to y/n’s shoulder. cody trailed a line of kisses up from y/n’s shoulder, to her neck, and ending just below her ear.

y/n let go of her grip on cody’s hair and set her hands over cody’s own. she moved his hands so they were no longer on her, turning around to face him. she placed her hands on cody’s chest and pushed him down gently until he eventually sat back down in his seat.

it was at that moment that the music had changed to a different song, as ride by somo rang through the room.

cody chuckled at the song, leaning back in his seat and spreading his legs for y/n as she moved to stand between them. his gaze had turned hungry as he watched her move sensually, kneeling down before him and her hands resting on his knees. she moved forward, her face just grazing his bulge as she shyly smiled up at cody.

y/n stood back up and placed herself down on cody’s lap with her legs falling on either side of cody. her arms wrapped around cody’s neck at the same time his hands found their place on either side of her hips, and she rolled her hips sensually down on to him.

cody leaned forward, and pressed his lips against y/n’s collarbone. he kissed the skin there as he pulled her down to grind harder against him, his actions making her let out sweet, soft moans.

“that’s my girl, keep grinding down on me just like that.” he whispered, to which y/n whimpered in reply. “so responsive for me, princess. you’re turning into a mess on my lap just from grinding against my dick.” his hands traveled around to her ass, kneading at the flesh as he guided her to slightly bounce in his lap as she rolled her hips.

it was embarrassing how wet she knew she was right now, but how could you blame her? having cody pressed up so closely to her, grinding himself up against her ass, and kissing along her neck had done things to her. and now the man was talking to her in such a way that her whole body reacted. the only sense of relief she got in that moment was by grinding down against cody to feel his dick through his jeans pressed against her core.

“cody.” y/n breathed out once she felt him buck up against her.

“yeah, that’s right. beg for me. say my name. don’t forget about me when you’re dancing with some other guy. i’m the one tainting you.” cody whispered, bringing his hand up to wrap around her neck. he stared up at y/n, watching the way her eyes shut close and her mouth was left open at the way cody had bucked up against her hips.

the two of them stayed like that, grinding against each other with y/n whimpering cody’s name as he pressed kisses against y/n’s exposed skin and applied pressure to the sides of her neck to choke her lightly. eventually the song came to an end, and the next song that came on was…

the snow glows white on the mountain tonight…

the two instantly pulled away from each other, y/n getting off of cody’s lap and cody taking his hands off of y/n. their faces beet red as cody rushed to pause the music, standing up to grab his phone.

y/n was the first to erupt into laughter, cody following suit.

“well, that’s getting removed from my sex playlist. i can’t believe the amount of times i’ve used this playlist and i’m just now finding out that let it go is on there.” cody laughed, taking his seat back in y/n’s chair.

that was one way to kill a boner.

y/n teased cody, “is that not the song you finish to? like when you’re about to cum, don’t you let it go?”

cody rolled his eyes at her horrible wordplay, patting his lap and leaning back in the chair. “come here.”

y/n walked over to cody, letting him pull her down into his lap. she adjusted herself so she could wrap her arms around cody’s neck, while her legs were off to one side. cody’s arm had circled around her back to support her, while his other arm rested over her legs.

“you know, i was going to suggest a skirt instead of pants, but that would be far more dangerous” cody hummed, to which y/n nodded her head in agreement.

“yeah. it’s so that horny men like you can’t get easy access to the goods.” y/n laughed, as cody rolled his eyes. “might need to wear some shorts under though, i could feel all of you right against me - and you’re wearing jeans!”

“i’m just a man! this was all your doing, i didn’t tell you to turn around and start backing your ass on me.” cody accused, to which y/n let out an exaggerated gasp.

“did i? i don’t recall doing that. codes, are you already drunk? high? crossed?” y/n questioned, feigning innocence.

cody groaned and leaned his head back, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to win this argument, even though he was 100 percent in the right.

but they both had the same thought.

thank god nothing’s changed between us.

|| next part ||

#cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes #cody rhodes smut #wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x reader

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auroramoon-draws16 · 10 months

Text

The Crossover Bar AU: the Beginning

“What… what the fuck?”

Desmond didn’t know what was gonna happen after the Temple (after sacrificing himself), but waking up in a bar, a 1920’s style speakeasy, was not what he was expecting.

It looks new, it smelled new, the scent of fresh wood and fabrics, stocked up alcohol and syrups, it was nice- really nice. He didn’t know what to make of it, but his body moved anyway. Stepping behind the counter he found so many bottles, glasses, there was modern bartending tools and shakers, also new. It felt like someone placed everything here, just for him. Like this was all just for him.

“So, do you like it?”

Holy shit- oh wow it’s been a while since anyone could sneak up on him. Desmond reflexively held his hand to the speaker’s throat, hidden blade at the ready.

“Wha- I- who are you?” He sputtered, eyes wide at the girl, no really, it was a girl. At least- he thinks, his mind couldn’t comprehend any detail about her. Like everything about her was glitching beyond recognition. She was short, and that’s all Desmond could tell about her.

“Don’t worry about that,” she grinned(?), nudging his hand away from her throat, and weirdly enough, he let her. “Answer my question, do you like it?” She repeated, not rudely per say, just… eager. Like a little kid showing her mom her drawing.

Blinking, Desmond lowered his hand, and took another look around.

There were wooden tables and chairs everywhere, nicely made from what he could tell, set up in a circle around a stage across from the entrance. The curtains a bright, vivid blood red, and there were lights up on the ceiling to brighten it up. From his place at the bar he could see a balcony, a second floor, but besides the railing and the edge of a pool table, he couldn’t see much else. On the walls were empty picture frames, waiting for something to occupy them- well, most of them- the one by the entrance had a portrait of Desmond with a golden frame.

It felt…

“It’s… home,” he blurted, “it feels like home.”

The girl(?) made a happy noise, bouncing up and down excitedly, “I knew it! I knew you’d like it!” She squealed, a warped and echoing sound, “oh I can’t wait! There’s gonna be so many more, they’re gonna like it too! You’ll see!” Before Desmond could respond, he felt arms wrap around his middle, “I’m gonna go get them, stay right here! Oh they’re gonna love you! You won’t be lonely, I promise!” And then she was gone. Just- he blinked and she was gone.

“Don’t mind her, the Apprentice is just excited,” someone explained, sounding both amused and fond. “This is her first project.”

Desmond looked to the other end of the bar, finding a man(?) sitting with an empty glass. He couldn’t see his features either, but that’s because he was engulfed in a bright light from head to toe. He felt familiar- distant- like looking into a funhouse mirror, him just not really… he even sounded sort of like-

“Hey, don’t do that,” he interrupted Desmond’s thoughts, holding up his empty glass, “you’ll get a headache. Now then, you’re a bartender, aren’t you? Mind pouring me something?”

Shaking out of his stupor, Desmond reached for the shelf, “right, uh, what’d you want…?” He asked, head still buzzing.

“You can call me the Reader,” the Reader told him, a smile in his faint voice, “that Whiskey will do.” He pointed at the bottle Desmond’s hand was hovering over.

After pouring him a glass, Desmond twitched, “uh, what do you mean- about her- the Apprentice- this project- what-?”

The Reader chuckled, “You’re not the first, you won’t be the last,” he muttered, more to himself than to Desmond, “she’s a good friend, she wanted to try something new, something different than what I usually do- or what They usually do- so I’m letting her try it out. This place is gonna be a catch all, a hub for any Soul needing somewhere to go, a place where they can Crossover the threshold without- well, y’know. Of course since you’ll be the Host, you have the final say over everything, this domain is all yours.”

“What? Who- I don’t understand, what the fuck does all of that mean?” Desmond spluttered. The Reader just laughed again. Asshole.

“You’ll get it soon enough,” he took a swig of whiskey and pointed to the door, “look, your first Guest is here.”

“Seriously? I’m not gonna fall for that,” and he was gone in a blink too, nothing but an empty glass to even hint someone else was here, “goddammit.”

Desmond didn’t know what to make of all this, who the Reader or the Apprentice were, what they were doing, what they even are in the first place, but he knew people were coming, Guests, the Reader said, and that he’s the Host. So that’s what he’s gotta do then, if the bar was made for him, and that’s what he’s here for, he might as well… right? What else was he supposed to do? He’s supposed to be dead, but he’s here as the Host.

Taking the glass and grabbing a cleaning rag from under the counter, he cleans it. Looking up at the doors, before hearing them swing open and watching someone stumble onto the floor with shouts of shock and thuds of limbs scrambling to catch onto the smooth floor.

“Hey, welcome to the- wait- Clay!”

“Seventeen!?”

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pokemenlovingmen · 2 years

Note

Oh neato new blog!! I enjoy reading peoples different interpretations of characters through x reader imagines, and it’s nice to see another one pop up. If you’re comfortable with it, would it alright if I request a scenario using any Pokémen of your choice developing a crush on a male reader who’s a big, intimidating buff guy..but in personality is actually a softie and an attentive single father to his young child. (Who is tinyyyy. Just a lil thing to contrast dad) I like romance and found family..what can I say.

oooooh that sounds so fun and cute!! Since it seems like you meant one guy, I’ll do one dude, but a longer post! Usually that’s my form, one person gets a longer post whereas multiple get shorter segments… however long it takes me to adhere to that. Because I have no self control. Anyway, my man of choice for this ended up being Grusha, because some nice and warm fluff should melt that frosty exterior.

And on the romance and found family thing, you are speaking my language fluently, you’re talking to a guy who worships those things in fan content. You can’t!! Go wrong with it!!

Soft as Snow

Grusha x Intimidating Male Reader (who has a kid!)

So. In your relationship Grusha might be a bit uh.

❄️ — Grusha is not a kids guy. Not at all. He’s the literal opposite of sunshine and rainbows. But hosting arguably the most intense and therefore exciting out of Paldea’s gym matches and spending so much time in a snow-covered mountain that is, realistically, so much fun for a kid to go to, he sees a lot of kids. Usually glued to their parents, which he’s grateful for, because rounding up some kid who runs off is about the last thing you can expect him to do successfully. So all in all, he limits his interactions with kids as much as humanly possible, but understands his job puts him around them a lot.

❄️ — A frequent culprit of drawing in rugrats he’d really rather not interact with would be the Cetoddles he looks after. He supposes he can’t blame the kids, they’re pretty cute and definitely not something you see anywhere but the mountain. And that’s exactly what gets him awkwardly interacting with some unknown little girl when he’d rather be doing anything else.

❄️ — A little girl had come to look at one Cetoddle, and with no parents in sight, he had to stay near. So, sighing, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks over, making the Cetoddle chirp excitedly when it sees him. He clears his throat and makes some horribly awkward attempts at small talk at this random child, no older than seven, who is just staring at him so intently now.

❄️ — “You, uh… like Cetoddle? Yeah… um. I think he likes you,” he tries, but he’s no… well, any other gym leader, even Larry, would be better at entertaining some random child while phoning the league staff on site that some unsupervised kid is running around.

❄️ — But he never actually has to make that call, because you run up shortly after he hesitantly approaches, frantically calling your daughter’s name. Like good lord, she is so fast. You blink once and she’s gone. You’re pretty fit, but even now you’re sweating profusely from all the times she’s bolted off on you.

❄️ — Grusha just stares at you as you approach, bug-eyed and wondering how the earth didn’t literally rumble as you ran up. Because holy shit, you’re massive. Legitimately built like an Ursaring and for a second he fears for his life and regrets ever approaching this kid thinking she was lost, because he could swear at the speed a guy who looks like you is approaching, you’re about to bite his head off for getting near her. Once again, interacting with kids proves more trouble than it’s worth, considering he’s so sure this is going to genuinely cost him his life. People get rash when it comes to their kids, understandably.

❄️ — But instead, you look at him, then at your daughter and immediately fall into bowing your head muttering thanks and apologies. “Oh, hey, I’m so sorry, she can be so fast when she wants to, I hope she wasn’t pestering you and your Pokemon for too long!”

❄️ — While you’re gently chiding your daughter for running off and imposing on a stranger, he looks from her to you. Then to her. Then to you. She’s not even, like, a quarter of your size. Being a former athlete, he’s seen some built dudes, but you’re giant and he’s still taken aback by how different your attitude was compared to your appearance and how doting you clearly are over your daughter. (A big heart AND nice body? Grusha isn’t even aware of how many of his boxes you tick because he’s just never thought about those things since his accident.)

❄️ — He clears his throat, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh. No problem. She wasn’t causing any trouble.”

❄️ — Both of you awkwardly mumble out some small talk (Grusha really isn’t one for talking and you’re kind of struggling to hold up the conversation), but when he mentions he’s got to get back to the Gym, you’re shocked. Oh! He’s the gym leader?! THE retired snowboarding prodigy?

❄️ — Turns out you and your daughter had just moved to Paldea, and to warm up to your new home, you’re taking her to see a few of the Ten Sights of Paldea. She ran off when she saw the Cetoddle on their hike, though, and you’re pretty surprised you just kind of bumbled into a pretty famous trainer who you’ve seen in a lot of informative pamphlets and ads for the region. It also makes you increasingly apologetic for your daughter imposing on him because he definitely has a job to do, and shouldn’t be pulled away from it.

❄️ — The conversation doesn’t last much longer, and you part ways shortly after. Grusha doesn’t even realize how attractive you are to him, you’ve got his heart thumping but he doesn’t even consider feelings for someone being a reason why. He’s just sort of resigned himself to be alone. But deep down, seeing a man so attractive (like phew. you are FIT.) be so caring and soft is actually really resonating with him. Basically, you’re a type he doesn’t even know he has.

❄️ — He’s a bit surprised when he sees you and your daughter again after a week or two, back on Glaseado. You wave and give him just the sweetest, happiest greeting when you meet again and sheepishly explain that your daughter became fascinated with the local Ice-type Pokemon and had been begging to go out and see them again. (He’s not sure if he can imagine that child emoting. His interactions with her, including now, all she’s done is hug your side and stare blankly at him.)

❄️ — But you’ve done something rare, and like most of his feelings, Grusha doesn’t realize it—you’ve struck a chord with him somehow and he’s too much of a die hard, stubborn loner to understand why. So when you meet for the second time he awkwardly offers to let you and your daughter meet the local Cetoddle pod that he watches over a lot.

❄️ — It’s cute. Seeing someone of your towering stature playing with the Cetoddles, who somehow don’t fear you at all despite how intimidating you are. They’re crazy about you, probably because they see how your daughter interacts with you and just flock to your parental nature. That and your daughter herself just having a good time while you laugh with her, sometimes throwing halfhearted snowballs because you know if you actually tried to could hurt someone with one, and she mostly just wants to pelt you with them than get hit herself. (Kids)

❄️ — The whole time, Grusha’s watching, not even aware of how smitten he is. But someone else is, because after a bit he’s startled by something shaking violently on his poke ball belt, and then with a crack! and no other warning out comes his Altaria, which grabs his scarf in its talons and drags him the hell over to you. When it shoves the flustered Grusha your way, it lands and begins preening itself, instantly capturing your daughter’s attention. (Because what kid wouldn’t want to pet the fluffy cloud bird? Altaria’s cute, and it knows it.)

❄️ — While Grusha’s giving his dirty traitor of a Pokemon the stink eye, you just give this warm and hearty laugh that has his heart doing flips all over again, and pat Altaria on the head. “Aw, this is a friendly one! Isn’t it pretty?” (To which your daughter vigorously nods.)

❄️ — “Uh, yeah, sorry…” he glares at it, and out of the corner of its eye Altaria glares back. “She’s usually not like this. I don’t know what her issue is.”

❄️ — “Haha, it’s no problem!”

❄️ — Then silence. And silence. …And silence. Grusha’s out of things to say, which didn’t take long at all. You cough. He clears his throat. The both of you watch your daughter and his Pokemon play in the snow. He’s only just now realizing how strangely desperately he wants to find something to say to you. And then, while playing with your daughter, Altaria gives him another Look.

❄️ — Oh. Oh, Altaria knew, too. Altaria was trying to bide him time. Well, he couldn’t let his Pokemon companion’s efforts go to waste, as embarrassing as it was…

❄️ — “So, uh…” he clears his throat. “Wanna… come back to the gym with me? Got a coffee machine there. Get something to warm you up.”

❄️ — Your eyes light up and it feels like his heart just got body-slammed. “Hey, that sounds great!”

❄️ — You call your daughter, and he calls his Pokemon, both running at the promise of some hot chocolate from the coffee machine. As you and him are both turning to head back in the direction of the gym, you completely miss a certain interaction nearby.

❄️ — Your daughter tugs on Grusha’s scarf, and when he looks down at her, she gives an unsettlingly blank stare as she studies his face. Finally, as if it’s a complex equation she just solved, she happily announces: “You’re nice.”

❄️ — Oh, uh… thanks? Those are the words Grusha wants to say, at least, but your daughter keeps going with a genuine verbal gut-punch.

❄️ — “I think you and my daddy should get married.”

❄️ — Kids say the darndest things, huh? (You exchange numbers by the end of the day, and who knows… maybe one of you will follow your daughter’s advice some day. But definitely not today. Grusha has to go crawl into the void and die of embarrassment first.)

#pokemon x reader #grusha x reader #grusha x male reader #i’m so sorry I fumbled with this one a lot #I couldn’t figure out how to wrap it up without droning on and on forever!!#sorry for it being all disjointed but I gave it my best ;v;

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halowritesthings · 12 hours

Text

“Tout est nul, putain,” Remy said while stomping his way inside. He shook the snow off his body like a wet dog, specifically because he knew it would annoy Scott when he eventually came inside and saw the partially melted snow on the hardwood. “I hate de cold.”

He shucked off the winter cap and gloves he borrowed, but before he could bend over to unlace his boots, a southern drawl emitted from the doorway, “So Ah’ve heard.”

Looking up, he saw Rogue leaning on the frame of the entrance to the common area of the mansion, a blanket bundled in her arms. His mood suddenly perked up significantly, “Well, good ol’ North must‘ve finally caught me. Why else would such a stunnin’ ange be here t’greet moi?”

Rogue rolled her eyes as she got off the frame to stand up straight, “Quit bein’ a drama queen, Swamp Rat. Everyone has had to shovel the walkways at some point.”

Remy pouted, leaning down so he could get back to stripping off the boots, “You say dat, yet why is tonight de first time I seen Specs do his fair share, neh? Gettin’ down an’ dirty too much a hassle for Fearless?”

“Ya know that’s just because ya always hightail it out of the room before the drawing of straws can begin,” Rogue said. “Ah think he’s already maxed out his shoveling duties for the season, but he joined ya tonight anyway, specifically to make sure you would do yer job for once.”

When Remy got both boots off, he looked up at Rogue with zero guilt in his eyes. His pout might have gotten bigger, actually, “So mean to Remy.”

He was quick to slip on his moccasin slippers that he was forced to abandon just an hour prior. If he wasn’t feeling so stiff, he would honestly be willing to bend over even further to place a kiss on the tips of each of them. Plus, he already got called dramatic once in this conversation; even though it was true, he would like to keep the factual observations to a minimum tonight.

As he stood back to his full height, he was suddenly assaulted, darkness enshrouding his vision and his movement becoming restricted. He struggled for a second before remembering what he was just looking at and held himself still. He was swiftly rewarded when a pair of gentle hands messed with the covering at his face and adjusted it so he was snuggly wrapped everywhere that didn’t impede his line of sight.

Once he was able to see again, he was met with Rogue looking at him with that same fond exasperation he loved to bring out in her. “Don’t chu’ worry,” Rogue began, finalizing the details of her current attempts to encase Remy where he stood. “Jubilee went and made us a bunch’a different kinds of hot coco, and knowing yer daily sugar intake, you’ll be reawakened in no time.”

With a lopsided smile, he grabbed one of her hands, using his blanket-covered fingers to wrap excess blanket around her knuckles before placing a kiss to the top of the hand while looking her in the eyes. She was of course wearing one of her nighttime pair of gloves that she wore when they hung out after hours, but recently he had been making sure to add extra layers between them whenever he could to ease whatever leftover anxiety plagued her mind, “Mon sauveur, what would dis scoundrel do wit’out chu?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rogue said with another roll of her eyes. “Love ya too, ya greaseball.”

woe 🫴 halo x-men fic be upon ye shout out to the 4 people who unanimously voted "yes" to the poll on my main asking about whether or not i should post this WIP snippet to tumblr lol. i have zero idea as to when i can get this completed due to a.) the dreaded blockage of writers as per usual and B.) the dreaded schoolwork which is in a constant revolving state of "maybe i won't have too much work this weekend" and "holy shit i'm falling behind so hard i'm gonna die-" this snippet is rather contained tho so it can work as a standalone pretty well. maybe i just need to embrace shorter ficlets as my main form of writing. certainly would be a nice break from the "can't make a oneshot less than 6k words" train i've been riding since day one LMAO anyway feel free to ignore my yapping; i hope you like my first foray into this fandom!

#i apologize for any butchering of cajun/french and potential oversaturation of accents #ive literally never done this before but i wanted to give balancing the accents with 'making sure the words are still legible' a shot lmao #x men #remy lebeau #rogue #anna marie lebeau #romy #roguegambit #x men fanfiction #halo be procrastinatin #idk when this would be set in the timeline. b4 antarctica for sure but not like immediately b4 #maybe at like a midpoint #idk man theres so much story to read and the website i use is irritating on the best of days dnfksdnfsd #ive been a b4tfam1ly girlie for at least 8 years now and i thought the DC comics were rough enough. my god

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asmolvaporeon · 7 months

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Hi @threefeline! I draw maybe once a year and when I do it’s usually symmetrical patterns and not things with an actual anatomy, but goddamn you inspired me to draw something more tangible because your demon looks cool and you’re a cool person and I wanted to draw something for you to express that. I hope you understand when I say that from the moment I saw that sketch I thought “oh god he looks RAD I want to draw him!” and holy shit(!) I did. A full-ass, made-from-scratch digital drawing!

So yeah the perspective is a bit wonky and not what I aimed for and I have no idea what shading is but I am happy that I made this and I hope you’re happy too. This was drawn with a laptop touchpad, lots of patience and no experience so I’m giving myself some slack. It was nonetheless fun! I might do this some more! I feel that I learned some things, at least about the art program, so that’s something.

Also I’m never drawing chains again. Hell. Absolute capital-letter-H Hell is what that part was every step of the way.

I’ll put a read more here because I made thought-notes during the process. Some of them are fun. There's also the base sketch that I did on paper.

(To the tune of the hills are alive with the sound of music) Where doooeess the other back leeggg goooooo?

Solution: he splooting!

Clavicle? Never heard of her!

(Threefeline I don’t know how you do this you’re a fucking wizard!)

Okay what is this arm going to do? Fuck it let it hold some flowers, that’s what they are good for.

Oh no his head is too large, we don’t want an egghead; make him a pinhead!

FUCK THERE ARE HORNS AS WELL

Good Loooord hands are haaaard

I implore you Threefeline, ignore his messed up left hand.

Oh okay, alright then. Fuck, god, chains are possibly worse, just for different reasons.

Oh no I think I gave him the handsome Squidward face

Why can’t I get the horn angles RIGHT

Why is the noodle harder to draw?!

Oh god I broke its arm

Fuck it, mewtwo tail!

We’re snatching his waist, lads!…What have we done

Hand? What hand? There’s only fluff there!

I tried making the colors more dull, but well…I just couldn’t really get the hang of it? Hopefully I’ll learn some day?

What the fuck is shading. Shading chains in particular is bullshit.

(After figuring out gold) Oh my god I feel like Michelangelo here. I’m learning art man.

#my own posts #art #my art #<- yay I can finally use that tag!#mutuals OCs #demons

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fizziefactory · 3 months

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How did you think up each of your concept for your Robo Fizz OCs? Like go in-depth about the choices you made, why you chose their names and such. I want details.

Questions about the fizzies || Accpeting

Oh that's a juicy one… and lengthy too, let's see where we can start. This got so fucking long holy shit pick your fav section idk I'm so rambly-

The very first muse I made was Factory Fizzy, or FF-8842. I can say right away that their factory name, which is the only name they go by, doesn't actually mean anything! I just think it's cute, I really love the number 8. In hindsight, 42 I can make the argument being a subconscious nod to “A hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy”, a book series I loved when I was a teen. 42 is the meaning of life, and FF-8842 is struggling to find the meaning of their life.

But most of all, Four-Two, or Fou-Too, just sounds cute.

They were originally made for a comic that I wanted to draw for the song The Fine Print by The Stupendium, sometimes I just get brainworms when I fixate, and I end up drawing lengthy comics to songs I like. I needed a fizzy to work in the Fizzy Factory for the song, so I made a fizzy with a simple design, clothes with no dyes, “horns” without fabric on them, basically a fizzy that didn't need to catch anyone's eye, nor drain resources and money. This is also why while they're quite strong, they're only 4’1”.

Now I play a lot on the idea of a fizzy that was created with a strong sense of self, of sentience, as soon as they were created. Usually it takes my fizzies a few years to reach sentience, if they ever do… but FF-8842 is a “defect” always at the verge of being scrapped for being too much of a free-thinker. This definitely evolved from the original comic, where they clearly do not possess the same distant look in their eyes as the other fizzies.

The second fizzy I made was The Manager. His name was originally just Office Fizzy, which I later weaved into his backstory instead. I actually asked my friends how I should refer to him, and they liked the simplicity of The Manager, and I think while it might be a little bit of a mouthful, it's oozes just what kind of person he is.

He is the Manager. He makes sure this clock is turned up and ticking.

For the comic, he was originally more of a guide for new fizzies, and of course the one doing the singing/talking in the comic, and if you want a good idea of what his inspiration was, look no further than the song itself. It's all there. Eventually Manager evolved into something different. He became, well, less someone handling the papers in an office, and more of an actual… manager, of the factory.

The idea to make it all Entirely fizzy-made tickled me, and so I tweaked his story a little bit, having him climb from an “Office Fizzy”, to being where he is now, so successful he even managed to alter his own design, which no fizzy of his model has done before… he even owns his own fizzies. Has businesses outside the factory (not to Mammon's knowledge but yknow-) making big cash and giving into greed because of the influence from Mammon, by simply being made in his image, and giving into it. A success story for the ages. He is a control-freak at this point though, to make sure he doesn't lose it all.

I also gave him an Australian accent because he's spending way too much time around Mammon. That's just a fun fact ♡ Also all the green and gold in his clothes also point to how closely he works with Mammon.

Mortis had his name change many times. He went from simply Undertaker, and I considered Morty Briefly… but decided against it real quick. I went with Mort for a while… but I just loved the way Mortis sounded. I know it's wormed into my brain because of Faith (don't ask me about the plot of that game I don't Know) but Mortis just felt Right. Mortis is the Latin noun for Death.

Mortis also came from The Fine Print. There's a section of the song that goes like this;

“If you'd rather drop dead, that's fine

But you know that dropping down dead bears a fine

So you do your job and I'll do mine

I gotta meet a six-foot deep bottom line”

And I don't know, it just fired off my creative juices like… what if there was an undertaker fizzy? That'd be so cool… and so out there xhdbbd. I have always had a complicated relationship with death, so I enjoy writing morticians because of their various different ways to approach the subject. Mortis started off approaching it quite casually… It's hell after all, but the more I wrote him?

I got to put myself in his head and how he was thinking, his life-philosophy, how me having placed him in Wrath affected his outlook, and now he's become almost philosophical, now he's holding sermons in Satan's name and I believe he puts his own beliefs into them… and despite having such a sad job, and how he has to face such misery and grief every day… It's somehow helped him become the most at peace fizzy I've got. Because he understands life and death better than any other fizzy, while also getting to be on his own and expressing and exploring himself best a fizzy can.

He is heavily inspired by the Undertaker in The Backwater Gospel, who is quiet and non-threatening, but his mere presence is enough to send you into a panic.

Why is he here?

Who’s going to die?

He's also heavily inspired by the YouTube channel Little Bubby Child since he's from Wrath and all. I will meme on him til the day I die.

Mizzy got her name from Maid Fizzy, you smoosh the names together you get Mizzy. For a while I also had Dolly as a suggestion, but it didn't really stick with my followers. So it's kinda become a nickname certain fizzies who knew her before the memory-wipe call her, like Thizzy and The Manager.

Mizzy was always meant to be a companion bot, I wanted a fizzy that actually did what the commercial advertised the fizzies to do. I made her a maid because I wanted to play around with her owner being a weeb, and I simply wanted to dress her up in cute little outfits that I knew a guy with his own companion bot would want to see. In time the idea of her once having belonged to Burnie Burnz, Fizzarolli's stalker, wormed itself into my brain… and the misery tripled from there.

I think it was because I wrote out a scene with a friend where I played him briefly before he got eaten by a sandworm (shoutout Beetlejuice the OG), and I recalled his line regarding the fizzies not getting him off right. I wondered what kind of shit a disgusting guy like him would even do to a fizzy if he planned on murdering Fizzarolli, so I, unfortunately, made Mizzy his fizzybot. The only solution was the memory wipe… and that's why she's so head empty most of the time. Her programming is protecting her from remnants at all times.

I really wanted to show how messed up the companion bot situation is with Mizzy, which is why she's been used sparingly. I love a good healing story though, so I've tried to bring her in more where she gets to regain her power and independence and tweaked her current owner to be a little less awful to give her a break… but still awful nonetheless. She's always ripe for fizzy-adoption.

Ginger has changed so much from the original concept. At first she was named Fuzzy, for a fussy fizzy. Then later when I switched up his design, opting for the red design in the commercial I thought looked neat as hell, I decided to go with Ginger instead. It just sounded right, all things considered.

Ginger started out as Fuzzy, who was heavily inspired by Sun from FNAF to be perfectly honest. I have 3 Sun OCs very near and dear to my heart, and I love writing anxious nervous wrecks… so that's what I did for a while. Eventually I leaned into him snapping more and more, running out of patience like Brandon Roger's Mom character, and as I wrote them in IC group chats, I realised more and more that Fuzzy was actually rarely if ever anxious… they were mostly stressed and Irritated.

And I was never happy with the original design… it was cute but didn't spark joy, it felt hasty. I spotted the design in the commercial I liked the most, and I remade everything.

Now Ginger is Something Else Entirely.

She's tired, he's pissed, he's at his wits end, and they're Dangerous if you look at them wrong. They became a Mama Bear, while also something of a Big Sister character… grumpy and with a resting bitch face… but a heart of gold below the surface.

I wanted to explore the fizzy for the kids and teens, the meaningless chores that fizzies have to perform for demons like carrying bags and making dinner and other kinds of butler-stuff, and just how straining tiring and meaningless it all felt, all while Also being a companion for the adults.. Despite Mizzy, Ginger has turned into the fizzy that's the absolute most disappointed with their lot in life, and hates Fizzarolli just about as much as Pinwheel. This is also why they are siblings in the human AU, they've got much in common.

Thizzy is simple. Therapist+Fizzy=Thizzy. Briefly he was called Shrinky, but I left it instead as a nickname he got from Doc, which he absolutely despises, because I could Not take it seriously.

Thizzy was taken from the commercial, I interpreted his neutral face as one of absolute indifference, and I figured this is Hell and this is Mammon so… originally he was meant to not give a rat’s ass about anybody, especially not his patients. However while writing my muse page for this blog, I had him write out short “profiles” for the other fizzies… and I thought Hey… what if he checked up on the fizzies too?

Now he's part of a larger process that The Manager runs where he checks up on the fizzies on the regular to make sure they're doing fine physically but also mentally (at least well enough to perform their tasks), and in time I found that Thizzy actually did care…

He cared too much, which is why he tried to not care at all. Because the alternative was to let it all get to you… Despite not wanting to get involved, it's in his programming to do so, and he's got a good heart, albeit only metaphorically.

Now he's just so tired... and working in the Sloth Ring doesn't help this.

His relationship with Doc is the result of when he was still in his early years and just performed his tasks as he was programmed to do… and now he's stuck in this unhealthy toxic relationship where he has to make sure Doc is happy all the damn time. Luckily for him, he mostly is. At least as a robot-

Finally, Doc! Doc is easy enough, he's Doc because he's a doctor! I did consider Doccy but it reminded me of. Another word, so I backtracked bxhrhe. I worried it'd be too generic but… it just fits. He's Doc. Nothing else fits like Doc does ♡

I just stared at the screen when Doctor Fizzy came on. Those colours. That Forced Grin, those soft little cheeks… that blank fucking stare. This was an unhinged doctor-character and I needed him in my life. My cringe, emo, deviantart-browsing, gore-loving, Higurashi-watching, Hatoful Boyfriend-playing, problematic teenage-self... they needed this.

He hasn't actually changed much at all. He was always inspired by those crazy doctors you see in anime, games and horror movies. Their silly giggles and the over the top surgeries and bone saws and all that stuff.. he's my horror and gore-character, for when I want to write a bit of this and that, which I do find a lot of fun.

I don't know what really made him as flamboyant as he is… I think just the nature of him being a crazy doctor character while also being a sex bot… and when I discovered the Bubblegum Coquette aesthetic- and in time I developed his relationship with Thizzy. His clinginess opened up the idea of how he's probably not got a lot of connections because of how “intense” he is, and while he's not quite as sentient as the rest… he's getting there, every time he reflects on how lonely he is.

His only way to connect with others was by keeping body parts of whomever he operated on, that was All he was ever able to get his hands on fair and square(?).. and he started getting unhealthily attached to those parts. Now he actively seeks them out because it's the only form of love and attachment he understands so far, and if he gets attached to people to a strong degree, there's a chance it turns into love/obsession, which will push him further into sentience, and so on now we have a yandere too.

Cringe.

But at least I'm free.

He's the perfect example of when a robot is Not taught how humans and emotions actually work, and now he's already registered what he knows as truths and facts.

Imma not cover Imposter too much cus really I just got inspired by that That's not my neighbour-song before I even knew there was a game, and I wanted to make a strong fizzy for quite some time, that could work as Manager's bodyguard to make him pose more of a threat than he did on his own. I loved the black and white aesthetic because of absolute neutrality, and my fiance mentioned that it looked like a pierrot and I was like Hell yeah accidental pierrot let's go-

They obviously has a bit of Ennard from FNAF in them, or the Mimic or whatever that new enemy is called... I think it's a pretty natural robot-plot device at this point. It is a fun bot to play in group chats where I can pretend to be my other muses and wait and see how long it takes my fellow muns to realise there's a question mark at the end of the tupper bot's username. It communicates through motions and clicks, sign language, when it isn't disguised, and is very mischievous and a troublemaker.. I dunno, the inspiration is "gremlin".

#input command [ asks ]#instruction manual [ hcs ]#see my name on the list? [ imposter fizzy ]#sorry i wasn't listening [ therapist fizzy ]#like a cheshire cat i think that you are just a grin [ doctor fizzy ]#call me baby doll [ maid fizzy ]#have you seen my son [ caretaker fizzy ]#the last man standing in our sinister charade [ undertaker fizzy ]#you should've read the fine print my friend [ manager fizzy ]#we work to earn the right to work [ factory fizzy ]#long post #this took. years

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hyenasheep · 2 years

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Brainstorming random general Junkrat headcanons that i consider as an official canon at this point

I wrote this at 4 am cough

- mother issues, and not in the kinky way but like really bad espresso depresso mother issues. He's like a newborn duck who thinks that anything that comes near to him is his mother (also based of his voice lines i think he was an only child and probably lived only with his mom)

- he doesn't care about what he's wearing, dress, pants, skirts, like he's able to walk around in anything that isn't tight or scratchy

- he sees Roadhog as his father figure/older brother and they just kinda adopted each other without the paperwork (ALSO pls don't take this like I'm trying to shittalk on ppl who ship them, this is just my personal view on their relationship so pls don't yell at me or I'm gonna cry ;-;)

- you can't tell me that my boy doesn't have adhd and ptsd, like C'mon

- he's on aro/ace spectrum, he spend his entire life in wasteland so he's rather looking for family and friends than partner, at least not just a quick flirting etc.

- but I can also see him that something like a personal space doesn't exist for him (he's extremely hungry for any physical touch like someone hug him already holy hell) i feel like he doesn't really understand social interactions (kinnie moment) . Idk how to describe it but like imagine he would randomly walk to you and gave you flowers or smth, just trying to be friendly not realizing smn could interpret it differently

- but also he has no idea what flirting is, like u could hit on him for months and he would be for the entire time like :) 🧍‍♀️"love ya too mate" while patting your head

- he actually can draw pretty well, like the concepts he drew for his bombs etc? He has such a clean lineart holy shit

- hardcore/trash punk and kpop/classic 2000s pop, nothing else.

- literally the biggest fan boy (a little meow meow u can say), Lucio? listens to his music non-stop, Hammond? has his stuffed animals and signed peg leg, Junker Queen? gosh, if he doesn't have at least one lunch box with her, I'm throwing hands than

- the pokémon sodas edition, he would love them, cherishem them, worship them, like if he loves pachimari u can't tell me he wouldn't love strawberry yagult pink soda with Mew on the can

- he's losing his hearing so he uses hearing aids (that he made himself ofc), also him and roadhog know sign language and using it pretty oftenly, during missions, when Junkrat's having a panic attack etc.

- so like ppl say he's egoistic but i think there's a huge difference between his ego and Junker Queens ego, she's very confident and sure about her role/look/skill etc. While Junkrat is more self-ironic and tries to hide that he is actually pretty insecure about pretty much everything

- can speak fluently many languages which always throws everyone off , like he just randomly starts speaking Chinese fluently in a middle of meeting or something, and everyone arevlooking at him like 🧍‍♀️

- shitty phantom pains, he may know how to build his prosthetics from a literal garbage but has no idea when it comes to take care of himself so he just curles up into a ball and sobbs

- he and Roadhog give each other manicures at least once a month, that's the only thing he can actually take care of

- unhealthy addiction to coffee and sweets (someone should take away the coffee machine he has in the workshop) (his teeth are rotten at this point)

- his sleep is more broken than the queuing system (haha funny), usually sleeping like 3 hours per day, that's why the coffee addiction

- if u would show him any kind of love he would start stuttering while trying to come up with smth funny, blushing, sweating and sit on the ground and think about life for the next 30 mins cuz of how much he's not used to being praised

- also my man is a huge emotional wreck, he's getting new emotion every 5 seconds

- honestly i can't decide if the only thing he ever read was a recipe on frozen dumplings or if he's the biggest nerd u can imagine who's walking around with Franz Kafka or Sigmund Freud while sipping his boba tea

- he's missing an eye - I read the theory that he doesn't have an eye and that his fake eye is actually the real treasure with a code or smth, and omg, im obsessed, yes, my boy is like a cool mad max pirate, absolutely canon, at least it would connect him to some actual lore in the story, he's just wobbling around for last 6 years just give him something already;-;

- he likes comics, i just think he likes to inconspicuously steal a new issue of Batman whenever they're pulling a heist

- you know those French toasts that are basically just normal bread soaked in condensed milk? that's his ass

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eldrxtch · 2 months

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Oh dude, I know how you feel about Sonic Battle. Like the gameplay? Pretty tedious after a while, but the story and character writing? Fantastic (Well, aside from the whole Amy diet thing but it was the 2000s, those plot points were really popular for god knows what reason)

But wow, did the game mess me up as a child, and y'know what, it still does. It's mostly just the whole "Hey meet this robot who's basically like a child who learns by mimicking their mentors! Look, Sonic took him in and is basically like a father figure to him! Uh oh, Emerl's malfunctioning! ... Destroy him. Go on. You have to."

Like damn, when Sonic stories hit, they hit hard. Not to mention, the links to Shadow and Maria in Emerl's story. Speaking of - have you seen the teaser for the Shadow animations for Sonic X Shadow Generations?! It has the incident where Emerl went berserk on the ARK! Ngl, I screamed when Emerl showed up.

Sorry for the goddamn essay but I don't really know anyone else who's into Sonic, especially the more obscure titles like Battle so I got a little excited when I saw you mention it 😅

YEAH, god, emerl's whole plotline fucked with me so bad as a kid

There was something about customizing him completely and getting so attached to him and experiencing his growing friendships and personality and then just like,,, 'JOKES ON YOU, He's the final boss, kill him :)' that they pulled

ALSO, I had NO IDEA!! Holy shit!!!! Emerl in another title?! Thanks for telling me, that's so cool!!!

I was OBSESSED with sonic growing up, like, I had played every title I could get my hands on (I bought so many different collection games on the gamecube just to access older obscure titles like Sonic the Fighters and Sonic R) but nothing has sat with me so intensely as the end of Sonic Battle,, OOF.

Sonic Gem Collection is actually how I became obsessed with Nack/Fang haha, I loved his design and mained him in both Fighters and Sonic Drift 2

I need to draw him again tbh... (I draw him usually with heterochromia as a small reference to the Archie comics being unable to decide on his eye color in different issues haha)

#please talk to me about sonic I'm so normal about sonic

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writingpencil · 5 months

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Beyond the Monster

Holy shit, this one is SIX years old (2019)

It definitely shows too (*sigh* cringe is dead but my era shows)

So, the OG concept was that, two years ago, a zombie outbreak made teens Rhys, Kiki, Jon, and Zyrann form a group to survive. Now they're nineteen, almost twenty, on their way to South Carolina, where there's supposedly an outpost.

However, Zyrann(1st person POV) gets sepereated from his group(I honest to god thought Zyrann was a girlie lmao oops) and has a bad accident. Thankfully, they are saved by Zero and his wolf, Echo, who later agree to help him reunite with his friends.

(Also Zy's group calls the zombies "mutants" while Zero calls them "roamers")

Prolog

“Kiki Taria,”

“Here!”

“Jon Rider?”

“Present and accounted for.”

“Rhys Brewer?”

“I’m not late!”

The rest of the class, including our teacher Mr. Dendwin,laughed at Rhys’s usual “jokes”, if you can even call them that. I never found Rhys to be funny, or Jon to be smart, or Kiki to be pretty, but they were. Some could say they were the best part about humans, their minds beyond what is natural.

That’s major league bs.

They were like the rest of us; human.

And yet I found myself being friends with these three. . .

Not my choice, parents are friends so we spent many an afternoon at each other's houses and played in the backyard.

Well. They played and I sat in a corner reading.

I do that all too much; read.

I read all I can, whatever you put in front of me I’ll read it. Something else. . . I draw, whatever that’s good for. I’m actually drawing right now, ignoring what Mr. Dendwin is saying other than listening for my own name.

“Zyrann Zen.”

I simply just raised my hand, a custom between my teachers and I. They simply mark me down and I don’t have to speak.

I adjusted my mask, and continued to draw.

Kiki passed me a note, neatly folded up in that “perfect” way.

She didn’t write it tho, the handwriting belongs to Jon;

Hey Zyrann,

Would you like to join Kiki, Rhys, and I for lunch in the library? We plan on going there again after school. Also, Rhys said it was okay that you could stay with him.

Just show up.

-Jon.

I’m going to show, lunch is boring and there is no heart in my home. . .

Chapter 1

Where the heart is

“Wake up, Zyrann.” Kiki had to shake me in order for me to wake up.

I just looked up as if her shaking me didn’t, almost, give me a concussion. “Kiki, where are Rhys and Jon?”

“They took the jeep to Misty Hollows,” Kiki said, she started to cook an MRE we found. And of course they took the jeep, that’s Jon’s intelligence for you. He’s a smart cookie.

“Kiki, you’re cooking it wrong.”

“What?”

I re-showed her how to actually cook an MRE. Thankfully we even had MREs, none of us have anything to make a fire with.

Please don’t underestimate Kiki, she really is smart but she gets absent-minded a lot. Not her fault, actually, it’s a trait that her family passed down. She use to complete her homework and tests that way; staring off into space and letting her subconscious do all the work, she never got a wrong answer.

Kiki and I had shared the MRE, she said the boys had shared a can of peaches before they headed out. Misty Hollows looks promising for medical supplies as well as food, with little to no mutants.

Mutants. . . Right.

Mutants are the equivalent of the roaming, walking, crawling, ugly dead that people love to butcher from comics. But, our version of mutants are different since they separate into categories.

There are the walkers; they can’t run or move at all unless it is walking. They are really easy to avoid and super weak, and may be pathetic if you die from one of them. A horde is the same way, except it’s twice as terrifying.

Then runners; Only run, and not as weak as the walkers but weak enough to be considered weak. They are fast, faster than the average human, and hard to run from. A horde is. . . imagine a large group and they are trying to get you and eat you while you try and run ahead. Yup, that’s scary.

Crawlers are typically legless, and that’s not a joke. They crawl, they sneak, they bite. And some can crawl on walls. . . I like to call them spiders.

Next is the Brawlers. They’re twice the size of a six foot human, and could probably one punch you. They typically are surrounded by a horde of mutants, walkers, so the walkers can find the humans and the brawler can destroy them. In one world, they are demons. In the other world, they are like protective mothers who are only trying to feed their babies. I’m not joking; I observed a brawler and her crowd and she literally grabbed a carcass and gave it to them.

The father, or so I’ve seen, is what we call the Gladiator. They are two feet taller than Brawlers and can destroy entire buildings as tall as New York’s skyscrapers. And the Gladiator, because there is only one or two, remains in Manhattan eating whatever he can catch.

Thankfully we managed to avoid Brawlers and the Gladiator, but that’s because we stick to the trees since Brawlers and Gladiator cannot go through them without damaging themselves first.

“Zyrann. . .” Kiki said.

“Yup.”

Kiki simply shrugged. “If we were to make it to South Carolina, do you think we could make a pit stop in Sunstone Valley? It’s a pretty small town but I know where it is.”

I nodded. “I’m with you, I know you want to find Hayden. But, really, it’s up to Jon.”

Jon is our leader, he makes the major and most of the final decisions. For two reasons. One; Jon is smart. Two; Jon is logical.

But, knowing Jon, he’ll let us go to Sunstone.

Crack.

We both stopped moving, and looked around making little noise as possible. I pulled out the pistol and readied it, Kiki took out her’s.

“Zyrann. . . We don’t have silencers!” Kiki whispered to me.

“I know,” I whispered back. “Don’t shoot unless absolutely necessary. Run if its a walker or crawler, shoot if its a runner.”

Jon’s gonna hate me if I get Kiki killed.

“Stand.” I whispered as I stood myself. Kiki followed. “Get your bag.”

Kiki, quietly, put on her bag. She keeps the food and water. I already have my bag on, I keep track of whatever they miss. Jon has back-up weapons and ammo, Rhys takes the medical supplies.

A surprise from our joker; He’s a decent doctor.

Kiki got out her walkie-talkie. “Rhys, Jon, come get us. There’s something here and it’s not friendly.”

Jon’s static voice came through; “We’re coming back, meet us by the road.”

“Okay.”

Kiki and I just got out of there, the woods I mean, and we waited by the road at the ready. Honestly, I’m sure we just panicked and it was just a mouse or rabbit or something. . . But I rather be safe than sorry. Especially these days.

That same black jeep sped on over to where Kiki and I were waiting.

“Hey party people!” Rhys said, thankfully Jon was the one driving. “Get in already! Zyrann, your mask is crooked.”

I fixed my mask as I got in.

“Where we heading off?” Kiki asked.

“South Carolina, where else?” Rhys deserved that slap to his head.

Jon took off before he answered. “I was thinking we’d go to Redwick, then we could make a stop to Silverkeep, and then Icemeet.”

That would take us a week, that’s without pit stops or resting or sleeping.

“Did I make you mute, Zyrann?” Rhys asked, we had been driving for an hour or two and he and Kiki switched seats.

I pointed to my mask.

“Sorry,” Rhys said. “Can you talk, please? I’m real sorry!”

I looked out the window, completely ignoring Rhys.

My mask. . . Yes, my mask. . .

My mask is just a plain white hockey mask that covers all of my face, the mouth area had a red ‘x’ over it. . . I’ve been wearing this mask my entire life, from birth and soon to death. And, for some reason, whenever someone mentions it I immediately don’t talk for the rest of the day or longer. I remember going silent for an entire week because someone mentioned it.

I also remember not talking for a month when Rhys attempted to touch it.

Heh, he still tries to touch it.

“Come on Zyrann!” Rhys whined. “I’m sorry!”

I ignored him.

Jon and Kiki looked at one another, they nodded.

Kiki looked back at us. “We need to make a pit stop for gas, in Civil.”

Jon drove into Civil, parking the car away from the gas station. Kiki got out with Jon and they both went to get gas. . . What?

An awkward silence loomed between Rhys and I, Kiki and Jon weren’t coming back until he and I made up or something stupid like that. But talking is out of question.

That doesn’t mean Rhys isn’t going to try.

“So,” He started with. “For once, it’s not raining huh? It’s nice out, I like it!”

Although I agree, I’m still not talking Rhys.

“Remember when you use to sleep over?”

Rhys. . . Why would you bring that up? What are you doing, Rhys?

I shifted my gaze over to Rhys, he was looking down at his hands, which shifted nervously.

Rhys continued; “I was always confused on why you wore that mask, even when you sleep. I always thought that is must of been uncomfortable. . . You know I almost saw you without your mask once?”

I twitched.

“Funny enough, it was two years ago. . . Before everything went down.”

That day?

“Yeah,” Rhys said, he noticed I twitched. “You were in the guest room and Mom sent me to go get you, you left the door opened. I almost caught you in the mirror but I opened the door and I didn’t get the chance. . .”

Yeah, I hate remembering that day.

We were seventeen, last year of school. I do take my mask off, occasionally. Like bathing or sleeping, only when I’m by myself, and just because. I wanted to take it off that day, just to remember what I looked like.

I stared myself for a good ten minutes, at my dark brown hair and way too “perfect” shade of blue eyes, my fairly translucent skin. . . Not an ounce of my father was there, just mother. Father said I was everything she was; looks, personality, skills, even our childhood was the same.

But I doubt Mother would be happy with Father, she use to be so cheerful though that it's hard to imagine her being angry.

Back to that day. . .

Rhys had entered my room, bright and cheery and thrown a mouthful of breakfast puns at me. I had to quickly put my mask on, it was crooked so I fixed it and played it off as if that was what I was doing.

Then, his mother screamed.

We both ran to see what was the matter. Rhys mother was on the floor, being eaten alive by some random lady that had spikes growing from her back. You could just see the life being drained. . .

I pushed Rhys back into my room, locked the door, and just started to panic.

Rhys had to sit and he started to cry, his sobs stung me. . . Stabbed right through the heart.

“She. . . she. . .” He could barely speak.

I sat beside him and comforted him the best I could.

While Rhys cried into my shoulder, I called Jon. He and I made a plan and he drove to pick us up after Kiki. Rhys and I had exited through the window. And, we went from there.

How can I stay silent after that?

“Rhys. . .” I barely managed to get out. “Come here. . .”

Rhys moved over to me, I instantly wrapped him into a hug.

I hate this! I hate all of this!

My best friend had to suffer, watching his mother get eaten before his very eyes!

No. . . stop it Zyrann. . . you knew who she was. . . what kind of person she was. . .

You have to hold him, you’re all he has left anymore.

“Sorry Rhys. . .”

“It’s fine, my fault anyways.”

“No. . .”

Rhys laughed. “I really do want to see you though.”

“No. . .”

“I can’t just,” Rhys reached for my mask. “Pull this off and-”

I grabbed his wrist. “No.”

“Can you say something other than no?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “I hate you.”

“No.”

“Not again! I will hit you!”

“Try.”

I immediately exited the car and sprinted towards Jon and Kiki, with Rhys chasing me. I hid behind Jon and couldn’t stop laughing, or giggling, doesn’t make a big difference.

“We can’t leave the kids alone for two minutes!” Jon said.

“We’re older than you!” Rhys retaliated.

That part is true, but we’re all nineteen and soon to be twenty for Rhys and I.

“Aw, come on, Jon,” Kiki said. “At least Zyrann is feeling better,”

Jon nodded. “Come on, back to the car we go.”

Usually, one of us would groan or complain, even Jon, but by now. . . I’m sure we’re use to the road in the two year span we’ve been driving. The first car was Jon’s, that ran out of gas. Our second car got kidnapped by false friends. This is our third car.

Right now; Jon’s driving, Kiki is looking at CDs, and Rhys was searching through his bag.

“Rock or Punk?” Kiki asked.

Jon voted on “Rock.”

Rhys voted on “Punk.”

Kiki looked at me and I just shrugged. Personally, I like rock music and punk isn’t bad either. I’m not real picky when it comes to music, same way with most things.

“Um,” Kiki closed her eyes and randomly chose one. Rock. “Oh! Okay!”

Rhys rolled his eyes. Rhys hates rock music, for some reason, and doesn’t like punk music either. He just has some type of hatred towards it, so he went with the music he hated less.

To end Rhys suffering, I took out some ear plugs I had. As I mentioned before, I keep everything I consider useful. That doesn’t mean I don’t carry food, water, or weapons.

“Here.” I said, giving Rhys the ear plugs.

He happily took them and smiled when he couldn’t hear a thing.

We had to make a stop for the night, we were all too tired to continue. So Jon parked the car off road, we were surrounded by forest. We all got out, Jon sat in the cargo back of the jeep while Rhys and I chilled on the ground. Kiki took out two cans of oranges, which I opened with one of the two can openers I had.

“You can eat Rhys.” I said, giving him the can.

“You gotta eat too Zyrann.”

“I’m fine, I’m not hungry anyway.”

“Eat.”

“No.”

“Zyrann!”

I smiled, even though Rhys can’t see it.

I stood and started to walk towards the forest.

“Where you going?” Rhys asked.

“My business.” I said and continued to walk away.

“You should take your bag.” Jon said.

I shrugged. “I’m going to be gone for two minutes, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Honestly, I wasn’t planning on doing what they thought I was. I was going to be by myself for two minutes, chill in a tree without my mask on.

I did find a suitable tree that I was able to climb up and just relax in. I took off my mask and breathe in the air. A gentle breeze blew, my hair moved ever so slightly with the leaves of the trees and the grass on the ground. I stared at my mask, just for a moment, before switching my gaze back to the trees.

“HOOOOOOOOOOWL!”

The call of a wolf’s echoed from somewhere in the forest, they are not common here other than in wildlife parks and zoos. I never liked either, no one likes being caged or watched, or laughed at.

Wolves are beautiful creatures, I read many tales about wolves - both fiction and non-fiction. I like the black wolves the most, the white wolves taking second, followed by greys and the others are just fourth together. It was the way I grew up; liking dark things more than fairy tales. Mother was the same way, she read to me these stories she called “creepypastas”, essentially internet scary stories spread around. My favorite is-

I guess I really am like Mother, getting off topic.

“HOOOOOOOOOOWL!”

Hmpt. That wolf likes howling, maybe it's unaware of how the mutants work. They love sound. It’s not about sight, many mutants have bad eyesight, but the other senses will guide them like a parent with their child.

I do not blame the wolf for not knowing, it sounds really young. Wolves live to six or eight years in the wild, maybe it’s right around two years old. . .

When a minute passed, I put on my mask and made my way down the tree and started the trek back to the group.

I instantly became loss.

I ended up just wandering the forest for minutes at end, sure that everyone was worried sick about me.

The wolf had howled again, it was closer to me than before. . .

“Shi-!” I wasn’t looking where I was going and completely, blindly, fell off a cliff.

I’m not even exaggerating, I fell and rolled on the side of a cliff into a river at least ten feet deep and sunk to the bottom.

There was no current, so I just stayed at the bottom. . .

I lost consciousness. . . In a sea of black. . .

Chapter 2

Wrong type of person

“Shh Echo,” A voice said, it sounded male but soft. “Hand me the disinfectant. . . thanks pup.”

I felt a sharp sting to my side, it made me move and let out a similar sound to pain.

“Easy, Echo,” The voice spoke. “He’s just waking up. No, pup, leave his mask alone.”

I blinked a couple times, the sun blinded me and I immediately shut them. I went to sit up but a hand was placed on my chest and kept me on the ground.

“Don’t move,” The voice said. “You hurt yourself and will take out your stitches.”

“S-Stitches?” I managed to squeak out.

“Yes, you cut your head open. It’s not as bad as you’d think.”

I felt someone, maybe the person the voice belongs to, wrap some bandages around my stomach and side.

The voice chuckled. “You took quite a beating, falling off of Divers’ Cliff like that- Echo! Down girl!”

I felt a pressure against my chest making me cough, it was gone just a second after, followed by a whimper.

“Shush Echo, I know you’re trying to help, pup.”

“Who. . . are you?” I asked.

“Drag the bag under the tree, pup.” The voice avoided my question. “Yes Echo, I’m sure I can pick him up.”

“What?”

“Hold still.”

He placed his hands and arms on my back and under my knees and lifted me off the ground. It hurt and it took all of me not to complain. He moved me only a couple feet away in the shade of a tree and had me lay against it.

“You’re out of the sun,” The voice said. “You can open your eyes.”

Which I did.

Before me was a man kneeling in front of me. He had platinum blonde hair and dark green eyes, pale as me, wearing a dark green hoodie with the hood up and a pair of jeans and running shoes. He wasn’t frowning, or smiling, he was just there. . .

Staring at me.

“Hello. . .” I soon became very nervous, and this was all I could say.

“Hello.” He said, his voice surprised me, despite me already hearing it.

A sleek black wolf nudged a dark green bag at this man’s side, it had blue eyes the shade of the sky.

“Thank you, Echo,” The man said, petting the wolf’s ears and neck. “Good pup, arencha girl?”

The wolf accepted the man’s petting and licked his hand. The wolf, a female named Echo, turned to look at me.

“He’s all right, pup.” The man assured Echo. “He may be dazed though, so be soft.”

Echo nodded, then licked my cheek like a puppy meeting a new person.

The man looked up at the sky, mumbled something I couldn’t hear, then turned to Echo.

“Echo, hunt.”

Echo nodded and ran faster than the wind in a certain direction.

The man held his hand out to me, but my nervousness didn’t let me shake it. The man just simply put it down, rummaged through his bag, and took out a pill bottle. He took out one and put the bottle back in his bag.

“This should help,” He said. “It’s a pain pill, nothing too high but it will help nonetheless.”

“I’m not in pain.” I said.

“You will be.”

“Is that a-”

“A threat?” The man cut me off. “No, but soon enough when your body becomes fully conscious with your mind your muscles will be sore and your bruises will be pain filled. Please, for your sake and mine, take it.”

I, extremely slowly, took the pill and swallowed it.

“I. . .” What do I even say?

“Tell me your name,” The man said.

I’m glad I don’t have to start the conversation.

“Zy. . . Zyrann.”

The man nodded. “Nice to meet you, although I would have preferred a different situation instead of saving you from drowning.”

“Th. . . thank you.”

The man shrugged. “It’s nothing, but I advise you to be more careful Zyrann.”

The way he said my name. . . it sent chills down my spine.

“What. . . is your. . . name?”

The man hesitated, he went to open his mouth but quickly shut it.

“Please?” I begged.

The man nodded. “I’m Zero.”

Zero. . .

Echo came back with a brown rabbit in her mouth.

“Good girl, Echo,” Zero said. Zero stood and went a bit away from me. He took a foot long stick, maybe, and tied a rope to it. Echo had some dry grass and small twigs and put it besides Zero. Zero took his rope and stick and another stick and did this. . . fancy way of making a fire.

He made smoke, blew on it, and a small flame blazed. He had Echo fetch some stick and made a fire roar. He skinned the rabbit, put the fur aside, stuck a stick through it and made a quick spit.

I gagged at the skinning and the stick part.

Zero looked up at me as I did it and said; “Don’t throw up, you’ve lost too much fluid as it is.”

Echo rubbed her muzzle against my stomach, which made it feel better. I lifted my hand a bit off the ground, Echo tucked her head under my hand and let me rest it there and pet her.

Than I instantly remembered my friends.

“Jon, Kiki, Rhys. . .” I said their names and tried to move, but Echo placed her head on my stomach and prevented me from going far.

“Easy Echo,” Zero said. “He can’t go as far as you’d think.”

Echo eased herself but still wouldn’t let me go anywhere.

“Your friends ditched you.” Zero said bluntly.

“Wh-”

“Too many roamers. . .” Zero explained. “They looked, but they couldn’t stay. They are miles beyond us and it will take you a while to even catch them.”

“We’re heading. . . South Carolina. . .”

Zero gave me an odd look. “Why would you head to the Carolinas?”

“Outpost. . . civilization. . .”

Zero sighed. “Oh. . .”

“Need to go. . . Sunstone. . . Valley.”

“That’s beyond a mistake.” Zero said. “There are two gangs who fight there all the time, the Blue Phantoms and Lost Souls. They’ll be killed on sight, or if they’re unlucky, taken to the camps.”

“My friend,” I coughed, screw this pain. “Kiki, her boyfriend’s there. Hayden Mayyor-”

“Mayyor.” Zero spat. “He’s such an asshole, did you not know he leads the Blue Phantoms?”

“No. . . Hayden’s a good man.”

“Who kills innocents at will, without complaint or hesitation.”

“Shut it.” I hissed, a weak hiss but still a hiss. “I know Hayden, he’s no murderer.”

“Guess you’re wrong.”

I wanted to scream at him, but I had no energy to do so.

Zero sighed. “Sorry. . .”

I didn’t speak.

Zero took out a hunting knife and skinned a small chunk of the rabbit off, inspected it, then gave it to Echo.

“Not cooked enough,” Zero explained. “It’s too raw, pink. Echo, you can go hunt for yourself or scout our surroundings. Sixty feet radius.”

Echo got off me and ran off.

“Do you truly plan on going to the Carolinas? To Sunstone?” Zero asked.

I nodded. “Of course I do, I’m not going to abandon my friends.”

Zero sighed, he sighs an awful lot. “Then I wish you luck.”

“You can’t come with me?” I asked.

Zero shook his head.

“I’ll die without you helping me, I can’t make it on my own. . .”

Zero didn’t speak at first, he remained in thought for moments on end.

“Fine.” He said finally. “I’ll take you to the Carolinas, or you reunite with your friends, but I’m leaving after that. Got it?”

I nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

Zero cut another chunk of the rabbit off, inspected it, then ate it.

“Rabbit’s done Zy.”

I could move, despite how sore everything was and that I was beyond tired and that it was slow and filled with pain. I sat up from my slouching and held out my hand. Zero gave me a sliver of rabbit, which I ate slowly. Zero ate some, but he took the rabbit skin, stood, and walked off.

“Where are you going. . ?” I asked.

“Just over here.” Zero said, he went only a couple yards away, knelt down and dipped the rabbit fur into. . . water? He was cleaning it, and came back.

I watched as Zero took out a small suitcase box with many spools of different color thread and varies of needles. He started to sew away on the fur, turning them into. .

Gloves?

When Zero was finishing up, Echo came back and pawed at the ground. She pawed three times, and pointed her head to my right.

“Okay,” Zero put aside the fur gloves and put everything away into his bag. He put on his bag, took the gloves, and put the gloves on me. “We have to leave, Zy.”

“I kinda. . . can’t move fast.”

“I know.”

“I’ll try and-”

Zero picked me up as he did before, was he seriously going to carry me?

He was seriously going to carry me!

Zero carried me out of the woods and onto the road, Echo followed closely.

“Will you have to carry me for long?” I asked.

Zero chuckled. “No, although I’m sure you wouldn’t mind. In an hour, you’ll be able to walk fine and not slow as a snail.”

“Although I’m sure you wouldn’t mind?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

Zero didn’t respond.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing #writers #writer #long post #long read #prompts #writing prompts #cringe is dead but so am i #zombie #horror #“horror”#i cant call it horror can i

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