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haikyuuuuuhypeeeee · 3 years ago

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Chapter 7

⚠️WARNING: Mentions of previous characters' deaths, swearing, mention of unhealthy coping mechanism

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You gasp as you wake up, your eyes attempting to discern anything in the dark.

What the…

Not even two seconds ago you were playing volleyball back in the Aoba Johsai gymnasium. It was a silly two on three game, Oikawa and Mattsun vs you, Makki and -

Oh.

Tears well up in your eyes, fast and hot. They flow down the side of your face, into your hair and the pillow. You do nothing to stop them, crushed by the sudden wave of sadness.

It was a dream. It was a freaking dream.

You’re alone in your apartment in the middle of the night. You’re a college student at Sendai Uni. You don’t play volleyball.

And Hajime is dead.

The sobs come out unconstrained, as you were too heartbroken to try to stop them. How could you, as it was the only way for you to let out the sorrow and anguish coursing through your blood right now.

C’mon Y/N, get yourself together. You will yourself to calm down, getting the sobs to subside. The tears don’t slow though, as you sit up to grab some tissues from your bedside table. You clean yourself up, sniffling and grabbing your phone.

It’s only just past 1am, and you can’t fathom the idea of falling back asleep. Not when there’s the chance of you falling back into that dream. Not when you can be fooled into thinking that you’re playing volleyball, still trying to receive Oikawa’s serves and laughing when Hajime yells at Makki to take this seriously -

Your eyes well up with fresh tears and you clutch a tissue to your mouth to muffle the cries that want to escape.

The only thing you’re sure about right now is that you don’t want to be alone. You can’t be alone, you just can’t.

You unlock your phone but staring at your screen you don’t know who you can call.

Ok, that’s not true. You have a lot of people you can call. Your parents, Oikawa, Mattsun, Makki, hell even your therapist gave you her cellphone to call if you need her. And you know that all of those people wouldn’t hesitate to listen to you and help you.

But do you want to call any of them?

This isn’t a life or death situation, and you don’t feel like you are a danger to yourself so it would be irresponsible to call your therapist. It’s the middle of the night and your parents still work so you don’t want to wake them up.

That leaves your friends, the people who honestly could still be awake and maybe even wanting to talk to someone. But Makki has Mattsun, and vice versa. Which would leave Oikawa, but honestly? He’s been more than unbearable lately, and you’ve been walking on eggshells around him, scared that anything you say will set him off.

So you’re here, laying in your bed with no one to call. And the one person that you desperately want to call is dead.

Sniffling again and wiping the fresh tears from your eyes you pull up your texts. Maybe you can send a funny meme to Makki and start a meme war - it’ll take your mind off your current predicament at least. But your eyes fall to the chat you have with Osamu, close to the top of your messages.

Huh, you didn’t really think of him.

Not that you wouldn’t want to talk to Osamu. He’s actually very funny, with his dry humor and easy banter. Your friendship, despite its more than unusual beginning, has blossomed into something you’ve come to cherish.

But you can’t bother him with this, no no. You guys can, and have, confide in each other about your struggles and your complicated feelings and emotions. But it’s mainly been small bits and pieces shared over coffee.

But it couldn’t hurt to text him, no?

You wouldn’t say anything about your dream. Maybe you can find a funny meme to send him, or ask a question about lunch tomorrow.

You methodically type out your message, finding a meme to almost perfectly capture your mood (but not too accurately.)

You send the text before talking yourself out of it. It wouldn’t surprise you if Osamu didn’t text you back - it’s late (or early, depending on your opinion) and he should be sleeping.

You sigh deeply, finding yourself back in square one. Square one plus a stuffy nose, aching head and absolutely broken heart. You close out of the messaging app and decide to find some show to binge while you wait for the sun to rise.

Your phone begins vibrating and you’re surprised to see what comes across your screen.

Osamu doesn’t text you back. He calls you.

You pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“I hope that photo isn’t a subtle request to have me come over and cook for ya.” The soft, calm voice coming through the phone makes your chest tighten. It brings a wave of relief because you’re not alone but drowns you in guilt at inconveniencing your friend.

You clear your throat and sniffle. “No, sorry.” Your voice cracks and you wince at how obvious it is that you were just crying.

Osamu picks up on your current state. “Hey, are ya alright?”

He sounds so concerned, the teasing lilt in his voice instantly dropped. Your eyes start to water again and you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips in time.

“Hey, Y/N are ya okay? Where are you, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. Your voice sounds horrible, extremely hoarse and tight as you try not to let more sobs spill out. Gritting your teeth helps keep them at bay but it does nothing to stop the flow of tears. You sniffle, loud.

“Where are you? Are you in danger?”

“No, no. I’m at my apartment. I’m okay.” You take in a shaky breath, sniffling again and clearing your throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s okay,” Osamu replies. He doesn’t sound as frantic as he did before but you can detect the worry in his voice. “I was still up so it’s no bother. I don’t even know why I called honestly. I think I just wanted to see what ya were doin’ up.”

“It’s fine, you can call me whenever,” you reply earnestly. “I….just had a dream.”

A split second of hesitation is all you’re allowed to mentally scream at yourself for breaking the one condition you set when you decided to text Osamu. “A dream?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, and I’m sorry for bugging you because it’s not fair to you but I just have to tell someone or else I feel like I’m going to fucking suffocate. I know I should just call my friends but they don’t want to hear me go on and on and -”

“Hey, hey Y/N. Calm down and take a breath.” You listen to Osamu, taking a pause to breathe. Your head is now throbbing painfully and your throat feels wretched. “What was yer dream about?”

“I was playing volleyball with my friends and...Hajime.” You are silently screaming at yourself. You were not going to do this to Osamu, you were not going to burden your friend, who is already facing struggles of his own, with your problems.

But...he did ask what your dream was about.

“We were playing volleyball together,” you go on. “And it felt so real, like one minute I was in the middle of a play and the next I was waking up in my bed, searching for the ball. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was all a dream, and, and,” your breath hitches again and you feel more sobs bubbling out. Again you feel the grief take control of your body and you start crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay Y/N.” Osamu is trying to soothe you but it’s not doing much to calm you down. If anything the added reassurance was making you cry harder “It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s so far from okay that you can’t even imagine how you would get to okay.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Ya don’t hafta apologize,” Osamu replies. “Just let it out, Y/N.”

Oh boy, do you let it out. You cry and cry, curled up in a ball in your bed, lamenting the loss of your best friend and trying not to drown even more in your sorrow.

But you’re not alone, really. There’s not another person in the apartment with you, but you have Osamu on the phone right now. He’s reaching out to you, reaching through the dark and trying to get to you.

You’re not alone.

You feel the sobs subsiding as your breathing returns to normal. Your entire head is throbbing, you have no chance of breathing out of your nose and your eyes are painfully dry.

“Are ya alright?”

“Yeah,” you rasp out. “I’m sorry again, for that.”

“Ya don’t ever have to apologize to me,” Osamu says immediately. His insistence brings a small smile to your face. “If ya ever need to talk about yer dreams or anything, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Thank you,” you reply. Your voice is nasally but you try to get as much sincerity in it as possible.

“Of course, and ya can call whenever. I don’t sleep so there’s a good chance ya’ll catch me anytime.”

You pause in wiping your face with your tissues as you take in what Osamu is telling you. “You don’t…sleep?”

“Nah.” Osamu's nonchalant answer makes your cock your head in confusion. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I actually slept through an entire night.”

“So,” you pause, still not comprehending. “What do you…do?”

“I do my homework, I’ve got a job at the convenience store and I usually work the night shift. Sometimes I read or binge watch a new show.” He laughs. “Usually every three or four days I just pass out for 14 hours or so, and then repeat.”

“Osamu,” you chastise. “That’s not healthy.”

He laughs again but it’s not the light chuckle from before - it’s a hollow laugh with a hard edge. “Yeah, well it stops me from havin’ the kind of dreams yer havin’. The kind where I forget that my brother is dead.”

You’re taken aback from the harshness in Osamu’s voice. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound like that. It could be considered in the same category as his usual tone - dry, sarcastic and nearly apathetic. But his regular tone is part of his sense of humor and how you two converse. You’ve never felt unease from those conversations, but now you do.

“And ya know what's worse than those little dreams?” Osamu doesn’t wait for input. “The worst is when I’m not even asleep and my stupid brain will give me random reminders from when my brother was alive. Like ‘don’t forget to wake up early and shower before Atsumu uses all the hot water!’ Or,” Osamu takes in a harsh breath, the noise making your phone speaker crackle. “Or the reminder to grab another sports drink at the store for Atsumu because he’s a scrub but he’s my brother and I love him. Or to save the mushrooms from my dinner even though they’re gross but Atsumu will trade his broccoli for them.”

Osamu blasts on, speaking fervently. Someone listening in would think he’s mad at you, but you know his frustration isn’t directed at you.

“But then I remember that I live alone, and I don’t need two bottles of sports drink and my plate is full of fucking mushrooms for no god damn reason.”

“And then, after feeling like the world’s biggest idiot for forgetting that my own twin brother is dead, I remember how alone I am.” He lets out another laugh, but it’s not light nor is it bitter. It’s worse, full of self-deprecation and pain.

You wait with bated breath, waiting for any sign on life through the phone. But when Osamu speaks, a small, broken voice comes through the line and nearly breaks your heart.

“It’s like - finding a life raft in the middle of the ocean but when you get to it it’s just a bundle of seaweed - it gets me every time.”

You inhale quietly. You want to reassure him but you can’t find the right words to say.

You can’t, because you know exactly how it feels.

The cold hard truth is that Iwaizumi Hajime is dead. There is nothing in the world that can bring him back, and there is nothing you can do to change that fact. Some days you can accept this fact easier than others.

On the easy days you feel most like yourself carrying a small rock. The weight of Hajime’s death will be something you will always carry with you. But on those easy days you can slip the rock in your pocket or hold it in your hand and carry on through life.

On the hard days it takes way more effort to lug the boulder around. You don’t know if you should drag it, heft it over your shoulder, tie a rope around it and yank hard. Sometimes you’re left to your own devices, sometimes your therapist or your parents can tell you the best way to carry it. Even your friends have stepped in to help you carry it, despite their own rocks to hold.

But the absolute worst days are the ones where you lose the rock, but you haven’t realized it. Where are you going to find it? In your pocket? Your bag? Will you trip over it?

Or will it come crashing down on you like an asteroid hellbent on wiping you out?

And it’s not even the impact that’s the worst part! Sure, this asteroid comes down on you with enough force to kill you, but the shockwave is what really destroys you.

When you have those moments when you forget that your Hajime is dead, the realization of his nonexistence is the asteroid’s impact on you. The cruel realization that his nonexistence is permanent for the remainder of your life is the shockwave.

This cruel one-two punch is devastating. It knocks you down and out, merciless in it’s destruction.

For what it’s worth, Osamu’s solution to dodging that one-two punch is not terrible, although it will have major consequences for his body and mind that he will have to face someday. But you can’t blame him for doing something to avoid the heavy blow.

It does destroy. It does make you feel like you’re drowning. It does nearly kill you.

“Ah, I think she fell asleep.” You’ve been quiet for so long that Osamu thinks you’ve fallen asleep on the phone.

“No, I'm here.” You murmur. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Ah, a dangerous pastime.” Osamu jokes, but it doesn’t quite land. Could be from his full disclosure or from the strained laugh he gives at the end of the sentence.

“It is,” you agree. “But I was thinking about what you said.” He doesn’t respond, letting you continue. “And I just wanted to say...I get it.”

There’s silence on the other end. It’s so quiet that you fear for a second that Osamu has hung up the phone in anger, or maybe he’s drifted off to sleep. But then you hear another breathy exhale, a laugh from a person who is the furthest from laughing.

“Ya know Y/N? I think you’re the only person who does.”

You exhale and close your eyes. You find it hard to open them back up, pure exhaustion taking over your body.

“We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” Osamu answers. “But ya gotta rest now if ya wanna wake up in time for it.”

A small smile crosses your face. “Sure. Promise me you’ll try to get some sleep too?”

A noncommittal hum is the answer you receive, not ideal but you don’t push him. You feel brittle and fragile, and you’re sure he’s the same.

“Osamu, thank you.” You want to convey how thankful you are, not only that he called you tonight but for coming into your life at a time where you needed a friendly face. You know your gratitude doesn’t come close to covering the vast expanse of your gratefulness but you hope you’ll have time to show him.

“No worries, get some sleep. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Good night Y/N.”

“Good night Osamu.” Your eyes slip close, and you let yourself fall into a dreamless sleep.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: 😔😔 y’all this story is making me Big Sad and I wrote it. 🥲 Thank you so much for reading!!! I should probably mention that the time stamps in the chat and on the tweets and such are accurate - the story is moving right along!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito

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demetrisflannel · 4 years ago

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valentine | eli moskowitz

summary: eli’s tough now, but you still find yourself falling for him, so you take a chance and ask him to be your first ever valentine, despite his flaws. he’s experienced (only as of recently), but that’s still something compared to you. is he a good choice to show you what love is?

warnings: none i don’t think? unless you include swearing

a/n: this is probably kinda ooc so i apologise <3 enjoy!

part one | part two (coming soon)

He’s nothing but trouble. You know this.

You know that Eli Moskowitz is a whirlwind of bright blue eyes and a tough exterior and the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen.

You also know that Eli Moskowitz can actually be a big softie.

Conflicted, you throw your head back and sigh. It’s Valentine’s Day soon, and you really, really want to ask him to be your valentine - despite his new personality, he still makes you feel safe. He laughs at your dumb jokes and you somehow never annoy him and he’s so reckless and stupid sometimes but he’s still so kind despite the stupid things he says and-

And you think you might be in love with him, as much as you hate to admit it.

Yes, he fights. Yes, he doesn’t think before he speaks. Yes, he smokes (which you hate).

And yes, you really fucking hate all of the above. But when it’s just you two, he’s smiling and he feels like someone you could make your safe place.

He’s silly and he’d probably give great hugs and he could protect you. He’s (somewhat) unafraid to show his emotions, beyond the alpha act at least.

You can’t stop thinking about him, and how he makes you feel and all that he is. Eli Moskowitz is, quite simply, exciting. And he makes you feel alive.

You can practically hear what he’d tell you to do. (“Go for it, pussy, if you like someone that much then I’m sure it’d make them really happy to hear!”)

So you ask him.

At first, you consider sending a meme or something, but that’d make it look like you were just joking, right?

You don’t want to come across as too eager, because ‘Hawk’ would probably be turned off by that (ugh), so you just send a simple ‘You got a valentine yet?”

He probably has. He’s Hawk, for fuck’s sake, he could get any damn person he wanted. He and Moon’s closeness made you green with envy sometimes, but you often wondered how you could possibly compare to a girl as fashionable and effortlessly cool as her.

He opens the message almost immediately, and your stomach jumps like every other time you guys talk, except now, your fear is actually somewhat valid.

“Nah. Wbu?”

You almost roll your eyes as you grin. You wish you could just shake him and tell him that he’s okay and cool as Eli and that he doesn’t need to be Hawk.

“I haven’t either, would you”

You stop yourself. Would he... ‘be down’? ‘Like to be yours’?

“I haven’t either, would you do the honours for me?”

Shit. You actually sent it.

You immediately shut off your phone, palms clammy and heart racing. It’s okay. You could just play it off if he says no. Valentines aren’t a biggie. Are they?

Your phone buzzes.

A notification from ‘Eagle softie’. (You’d forever cringe at it, but, hell, was it accurate.)

“What the fuck does that mean lmao”

He wasn’t that clueless, was he?

Unless he wanted you to straight up ask - which you could never see yourself doing, but you hadn’t come this far for nothing.

“You wanna be my valentine?”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

Yeah, you’d never turn your phone back on now.

It buzzes after an agonising few seconds, and you swear your heart stops.

This message could change everything.

“Sure.”

Oh.

Relief washes over you, but also doubt. What the fuck are you meant to do now?

“I don’t really know what to do now lmao” you admit, fighting the urge to bite your nails. Maybe this was a bad idea. Regret tinges the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t worry, it’s easy. Just regular valentine shit”

Easy. Being with Hawk felt just like that - easy. Having your first ever valentine was daunting, but he somehow washed away that drowning feeling.

He made it easy.

“I uh, haven’t had a valentine before” you reply.

“Firstly, “uh”? You type how you speak? That’s fucking adorable”

He called you adorable, and your mouth reacts before your brain does, a massive smile painting your face.

“Also I “uh” (haha see what I did there?) haven’t either, but I totally didn’t say that”

You can’t help but reply firmly.

“Eli. You don’t need to put on an act around me.”

“Okay lol if you say so. Send me your address, it’s a date. If that’s cool.”

Yeah, now you were freaking out.

“Yeah I haven’t been on a date before either” you hurriedly type, anticipating his reply. Were you being annoying at this point? Would he be put off?

“Great, I’ll make it fun x”

Nope. Just regular Hawk protocol, with a stupid kiss at the end. You’d never admit it, but it made you blush like a wildfire.

“Stop with the kisses before I send you a murderer’s address”

“No. x”

Eli Moskowitz was unpredictable and thrilling and a total badass. You were surprised he’d even agreed.

And in exactly a week, he’d be your valentine and you’d be on your first ever date.

It would help if time could go slower right now, so you could prepare, but you also desperately want to hug him and see him in person and you really, really missed him.

Valentine’s Day, here you come.

#eli moskowitz x reader #eli moskowitz imagine #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader

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bebepac · 4 years ago

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Ri-Liamo de Bergerac (Happy birthday Zoehanji )

Happy birthday @zoehanji !!!!!

Original Post date: 04/27/21 at 9:52PM EST (4/28 where you are celebrating your birthday!!!)

I have no idea when we started talking but we did, somewhere in the beginning of my writing journey on this site. Even though I still consider myself to be a beginner here. Thank you for being my friend and being a fellow long distance cousin, as our relative in common would be Drama Whore! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I hope you enjoy this. I know that Fast Forward has always been one of your favorites.

The Book: TRH and Beyond

Pairing: Liam x Riley / Maxwell x Taylor (Maxwell x F!OC)

Warnings: Sexual Innuendo and fluff.

Word Count: 1889

Summary: Maxwell and Taylor go on their first date. Both are nervous and ask Liam and Riley for an assist.

A/N: This is a little similar version of Cyrano de Bergerac, not in the take that someone has a big nose, no one does, but the aspect of someone getting help in a conversation by using someone else’s words. I did ask around to see if anyone had done something similar to this. No one recalled of a similar story, so any similarities to anything currently on the fandom is completely unintentional.

I also used @theworldofprompts prompt: "All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you." which will appear in bold.

Song inspiration for this. I heard this song while i was desperately needing to calm down while i was listening to the calm station on my pandora and I came across this song and enjoyed it so, so here it is for you all to enjoy too. I feel like it has a little sweet nervous energy, but then the music builds like you’re getting used to being with someone. it’s truly a beautiful piece.

First Love by Yiruma

I don’t own rights to the music. But i’m quickly becoming a Yiruma fan. Every song was amazing that i heard today and it had such a unique feel. I could pick them when they started playing on pandora.

Riley raised her eyebrow at Maxwell. She saw him pacing nervously as he kept glancing in Taylor's direction. Taylor was completely oblivious as she had her nose buried in a book she'd gotten from the estate library.

Finally Maxwell had psyched himself up. He walked over to Taylor sitting in the lawn chair next to her.

"Hey Softie."

Taylor put down her book, as did Ellie as she was sharing the oversized lounge chair in the sun with Taylor. Both lifted their sunglasses to their hair.

"Lord Playlist?"

"So I was wondering if you want to have dinner tonight."

"Silly Uncle Maxwell, we eat dinner every night." Ellie confirmed matter of factly.

"What Riley Jr. said." Both Taylor and Ellie picked up their books again, sliding their glasses back to cover their eyes.

Riley laughed to herself. Oh my God Taylor she thought. She is absolutely adorably clueless.

Liam laughed softly. He gently rubbed Riley's stomach.

"Aren't you glad we're married? We don't have to do that."

"You were never like that."

Liam blushed. "I felt like that when I talked to you the first time. I don't even remember what I said on the street to you. I was so dumbfounded by your beauty."

"You don't remember me being so awkward, Liam?"

Liam shook his head. "You… were perfect, is all I remember, My Love."

A light blush hit Max's cheeks.

"What I meant Softie, was you and me alone, away from the estate."

Taylor slowly lowered the book again, her eyes slowly meeting Maxwell’s.

"So like a date?"

"I mean date is a strong word, but it could be an accurate one. Two people dressed nicely eating food together at the same table. I mean I'm not opposed to the idea if you are."

"Auntie Taylor likes food, and to dress nicely. You should see Auntie Taylor's dress for the ball. I picked it!!!!!"

"Excuse me Miss Crown Princess read your book."

"So… whaddya say Softie? Dinner tonight?"

"Sure. Riley Jr. nailed it pretty much."

"Great! I'll meet you out front at seven."

Great."

"I swear this baby likes to just sit in there and poke my bladder for fun." Riley tried to roll out of the lounge chair she was on. “A little help Liam?”

Liam immediately jumped up to assist Riley to her feet.

"You just went thirty minutes ago."

"You tell your daughter that."

Liam affectionately rubbed her stomach, kneeling to plant a soft kiss on it.

"Little One be nice to Mommy. She has kept you safe all this time and we still have a few weeks to go. Let Mommy relax.."

Riley had stepped out of the lavatory only a few steps when Taylor descended on her like a ninja.

"Jesus Christ! Taylor you almost scared the crap out of me, and the way this baby has my bodily functions out of whack it could have legit happened!!!"

“Ew. Riley. Gross. Another reason I won’t procreate. Did you see, Maxwell asked me out!!!! On a date!!!!"

Riley laughed. "Because he likes you, and you like him."

"What are we going to talk about alone?!?!"

"You guys talk, and you are texting back and forth all the time."

"We talk in a group Riley. All Me and Maxwell do via text is meme war each other."

“Huh?”

"Our whole texting conversation… nothing but memes!!!"

She swiped on Maxwell's conversation in her phone it was nothing but pictures.

"It's okay, I'll get an ear piece set from Nico, and help you.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would. Can’t have your first date with the guy you like nothing but uncomfortable dead air.”

“Thanks Ri. Can you keep this between us?”

“Sure! Do you need help picking an outfit for tonight?"

"Nope, with the outfit, you kind of already did when you gave me my new wardrobe. If I can’t pick from there, I’m truly an idiot."

Little did Riley and Taylor know Maxwell and Liam were having a similar conversation.

“Liam I didn’t think she would really say yes!!! She said yes!!!! She said yes…..”

Then it looked like the gravity of the situation crashed into him. Maxwell looked like he was about to hyperventilate.

“Calm down Maxwell. Taylor likes you. It’s easy to tell from the trained eye. She lets down her guard around you.”

“What are we going to talk about? I can’t talk about peacocks all night. Or Memes. She’ll think I'm a complete buffoon. I don’t even have reservations anywhere. I asked her on a nice date and I don’t even have reservations ANYWHERE!!!! What am i going to do?!?!?!

Liam grabbed Maxwell by the shoulders. “Get a hold of yourself man!!!! And take a breath, your face is turning blue.”

Maxwell took a few cleansing breaths.

“Don’t worry about the reservations, I can handle that. It’s good you are friends with the King and Queen. And for conversation I can got it. I’ll get an earpiece from Bastien, and you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t tell Riley. She still hasn’t let go about the fact of my baby hippo tattoo.”

“Nor will I thank you for reminding me of it.” Liam laughed loudly.

Maxwell and Taylor left on their date. Both Liam and Riley made excuses to not be in the other’s company for the evening.

Both Liam and Riley were pleasantly surprised being a whisper in someone’s ear how well the night was going. Both couldn’t stop thinking about how natural the moments between the two of them felt, and how perfect they were for each other.

“I can’t tell you enough Taylor how beautiful you look to me tonight. And I know you’ve had trouble seeing yourself that way when it comes to that word. But you are Taylor.”

She heard her sister softly gasp. Tears filled Riley’s eyes.

Tell him Thank you, and that you wanted to look nice…. For him.”

Taylor parroted her words.

Taylor starred at the menu. None of it was in English and she had no idea what any of it meant.

I wish I had your eyes right now Riley. Taylor thought.

The conversation was sweet and romantic. It was the perfect date. Maxwell reached across the table taking Taylor’s hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Yes.”

As they danced, Taylor started relaxing in Maxwell’s arms.

“You know I have a hard time sharing my emotions sometimes. All the time..”

“I know. And that’s okay. We can take this slow. There’s no rush Softie.”

This felt familiar to Liam.. Too familiar. He knew those words…..her words.

Riley felt the same way but she couldn’t be sure.

Both had gotten up from their desks to investigate to see what the other was up to.

Taylor had never felt like a moment was so perfect and what Riley said, she really felt in her heart.

"All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you."

“Riley?” But she had the feeling, it wasn’t Maxwell’s question.

Taylor pulled away from Maxwell.

“Liam?”

Liam and Riley stared at each other in the hallway.

He touched her ear feeling her ear piece and she touched his, feeling the same.

“I knew it was you.” They both said in unison.

“I could feel your heart Riley, through the words even though it wasn’t you saying them.”

“I could feel you too.”

From the earpieces they could hear Liam and Riley kissing and the sounds of commotion.

“Bedroom, now?” Liam's voice deep, rumbling with desire and need.

“YES LIAM!" Riley cried out.

"OH GOD!" Taylor shrieked.

Both Maxwell and Taylor ripped out their earpieces.

“Well that escalated quickly.” Max cleared his throat looking at their earpieces that were laying on the table. “Won’t be using those for the rest of the evening.”

“Why did you think you needed help on the date Maxwell?”

“Because I’m awkward, when I’m around you.”

“No you’re not. You’re funny, and really nice. I’m the awkward one. I don’t know how to do this normally. I’ve never had a healthy romantic relationship before.”

“That’s okay. I haven’t been in many relationships before either. We can learn together.”

“So can I be honest with you? I have no clue what the hell I ordered. This place is nice but it’s too much for me. I’m guessing it was Liam’s idea? Can we go somewhere else?”

“I know just the place.”

Maxwell and Taylor left that restaurant, and when they got to the second place, Taylor’s smile widened.

“Now stop me Softie if you’ve ever heard this one, a dashing noble wearing a squid tie with an affinity for peacocks, and a Queen of Cordonia lookalike walk into a bar…….”

Date one for Maxwell and Taylor part two was them dressed up like they were going to the ball, eating burgers and drinking cheap Cordonian Beer, playing pool. And it was perfect.. For them.

No. Dead. Air. Conversation flowed easily between the pair.

“Wow. I can’t believe the earpiece stayed in.”

“You don’t think they heard anything did they?”

“I’m sure they probably took them out.”

"Can I ask you something?"

He could hear the slight sadness in Riley's voice. "Sure, you can ask me anything."

"Do you think I'm cool?"

Liam laughed out loud but abruptly stopped when he saw the look on Riley's face.

"Of course you are Riley."

"Then why is Ellie my sister's shadow right now? Why do I feel like she wants nothing to do with me?"

"Riley… it's not that. This pregnancy has been rough on you. You know how active our children are, and how active you were with them. Even while you were pregnant. Well….Taylor fills that spot for what you aren't physically able to do right now. Before it was me. I think you notice it more now because it is her.. But yes, it is clear Ellie adores Taylor. They have bonded and really love each other. “

"It was just so hard when I came back from California Liam. She hated me."

"She didn't. She loved you, and it was my doing that put a wedge between you and her. She was hurting Riley. I did that to her. Not you. I’m sorry for that."

“It’s okay Liam.”

*^*^*^*^*^* Breakfast next day *^*^*^*^*^*^*

“How was dinner last night Taylor?” Riley asked.

“It was great. We went for Burgers and beers.”

“That’s nice.”

Liam lightly cleared his throat.

“So……..”

“We didn’t hear anything. We both ripped our ear pieces out when we heard where things were heading.”

“Riley you’re about to pop, how is that even aerodynamically possible right now?!?!?!”

“Oh it’s possible!” Liam chuckled. “God yes it’s possible.”

“Taylor it’s like when the amusement park is about to close and you want to get on your favorite ride one last time. Even if you’ve had too much food and you’re full and you might throw up. You got to get on that ride one more time.”

“You went to a carnival Mommy?”

“No, she just went on a royal scepter ride. God did I say that out loud?” Taylor slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my God!!! Can we change the subject now please?” Liam inquired, beads of sweat were forming on his face.

“Yes please because this conversation went incredibly awkward!”

Riley laughed looking around the table. The adults looked like they wanted to climb out of their skins and her children looked either confused or unaware of what was happening.

Tags in the Comments!!!

#bebepac writes #birthday fics #happy birthday zoehanji #trh fanfic #trh fandom #liam and riley #maxwell x taylor #fast forward #the world of prompts #choices fic writers creations

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dilfbane · 3 years ago

Text

Your Weeping(Your Need For His Touch)

Summary: When things go south on a mission, you have to confront more than just the sketchy town, cartoon villains, and one-bed hotel room you’re forced to share with Loki. You have to come to terms with not only the consequences of being captured, but also the God of Mischief’s feelings for you - Because for all that he might be an asshole, sometimes, he really does have a heart. Written for the Picture Is Worth A 1,000 Words 6k Follower Writing Challenge by @startrekkingaroundasgard

Pairing: Loki/(Female)Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries and medical treatment, as well as discussions of the inevitable mindset around sacrificing oneself for the mission that I feel like being part of the Avengers would entail. Also swearing, because at its core, this story started out as a bit of a crack! fic.

Word Count: 7.8k.

A/N: So apparently when I have mental breakdowns they result in me writing crack-fic that takes a 180 veer into angst and fluff for absolutely no reason. For the sake of the crack-fic, in this timeline Loki was forced to help the Avengers take down bad guys directly after the end of the first Avengers movie, so… Is that a confusing plot hole I didn’t know how to account for except by making this AU? Maybe. Did I do it anyway?…. Yeah. This really was meant to be a crack-fic about Loki and the reader confessing their feelings set in the bizarre world of meme culture, I didn’t realize there were going to be feels in it until it was three in the morning and all of a sudden this happened. That being said, your girl went there, so enjoy!

“Oh, shit,” You say, as you take in the grimy hotel room. The walls all smeared in what looks like dried blood, the putrid smell of rotten eggs, a crack-screened television with a fine dusting of some suspiciously white powder. And, of course, “There’s one bed.”

“Hmm?” Asks Loki, turning towards you, briefly, from unpacking. He had dumped his suitcase(Magically plucked out of a chaotic liminal space) unceremoniously on the bed’s scratching, pilling coverlet without so much as a second glance at the rest of the room. And why do you need a suitcase, anyways?? You wonder. It isn’t like we’re planning to be here that long. In fact, you hoped with every fiber of your being that you’d be here for as little time as possible, because this town might actually be the sketchiest place you’ve ever seen in your life; no small feat, for a bona-fide member of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You’ve kicked alien ass on a mutated purple Mongolian death-worm three thousand feet over New York City. You’ve run reconnaissance to rescue debatably-magical items sequestered away in an ancient cave labyrinth plastered in paintings and untranslatable runes, gunfire and what could only be described as the baying of hellhounds in the near distance. You’ve fist-fought a gigantic hive-mind robot in a field of artificially sentient feral steel suits - You’ve even survived Tony’s parties.

Yet none of those scenarios hold a candle to this fucking town.

And Loki, the asshat, seems utterly, competently - no, maniacally - unfazed.

“There’s one bed,” You repeat, into the air.

“Ah,” Says Loki, straightening.

“You don’t see that problem with that?!”

“Should I?” He asks you, walking across the room in long, graceful strides to stand in front of you. He wears the same expression he always wears, amused and indifferent, but this time with the addition of a single, elegantly-arched eyebrow. You drop your head, refusing to meet his somewhat-curious gaze. It physically hurts, how attractive Loki is. Not for the first time, you curse whatever god decided that you and him would once again be mission partners - in this case, you belatedly realize, and choke back a thick laugh, said god is, unsurprisingly, Thor.

If you survive this, you make a note to beat his head in with Mjolnir. As it is, you are here in this room with Loki, with perhaps twenty IPP agents and a reckless poisoner dogging your every move, and there’s a high chance that you won’t live long enough to navigate whatever the hell sleeping with your crush-who-has-murdered-men. Ok, so ‘murdered men’ isn’t entirely accurate. More like ‘caused the murder of men inadvertently through his schemes’. It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, right now.

And what about Loki? He is still staring you down, like you’re some wind up toy moments away from going off. Funny, that, you think. If ever there were a time to not have a mental breakdown, it would be here, with him. You’ve crossed a lot of moral lines in your life, but you will be damned if you let Loki Laufeysson see you cry. Loki is graceful. Composed. Sarcastic. Lithe. Rolls his eyes at almost every statement that comes out of somebody’s mouth. But he is, also, beautiful. Shockingly comforting, in his own nihilistic way. You don’t know what it says about you that you find comfort in statements like, Try not to die, you know that I hate funerals. Part of you - most of you - doesn’t want to. But it gives you strength, somehow, to shrug off the day and ground your flailing mind in evading Loki’s calculated manipulation. I won’t show you my weakness, you think to yourself. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

“No,” You tell him - too quickly, he’ll pick up on that - “You’re right, you shouldn’t. It’s fine. We have - a lot to deal with, is all.”

Loki nods, seemingly accepting your answer, but his eyes are still narrowed, watching you like he’s calling your bluff. You talk right past that look - have to, to keep yourself sane, to not think about the one bed that looms large over this entire conversation. It doesn’t even look like a comfortable bed.

“We have two days,” You say, to stop yourself thinking of it. And, also, to talk your way through your disarmingly disjointed thoughts. Loki nods. It would really help if you said something, you think. Swallow the thought, hot and thick, down your throat. What’s the point of a mission partner if you can’t even soundboard off them? “The Pink Cobra could strike anyone, anytime. The IPP is planning something in New York - “

“Isn’t everyone, these days, planning something in New York?”

He sounds regretful, and for half a second you want to offer him the reassurance that his very presence offers you. But you are sure he doesn’t know what he does to you - with his words, with the sidelong glances that you’ve felt linger on your form far too long in the heat of a fight. If you didn’t know any better, you would say Loki worries about you.

“We have to shut him down,” You say. Focus on the Pink Cobra, because honestly, that’s easier. “Find out where he manufactures. Not get poisoned,” You add, at the end.

“Yes,” Loki says, tone dripping with sarcasm, “We should certainly try not to get ourselves killed. Failing that, I suppose, we can at least request that no one in H.Y.D.R.A gets autopsy access.”

“Loki?” You ask. Rhetorically. “You’re not helping.”

He smirks at you, then. He knows.

“What do you propose that we do then?” He asks, taking a step towards you, getting so close that you can feel his hot breath. “About the Pink Cobra?”

“Find him.” You say, fumbling, blush rising high on your cheeks.

Tonight?

One bed?

You are screwed.

***

When you were a kid - think really little, Capri Sun pouches and still believing that true love wasn’t complicated - your father told you that every story needed a good supervillain. You aren’t sure if the Pink Cobra counts as a good supervillain, but he’s the least confusing one that you have to deal with - and, as far as villains go, a fine enough challenge to face. He’s like a madman out of some high fantasy novel, with dark eyes and a sable-sewn cloak and a penchant for poisoning. He is adept in all the arts of the woman’s murder; he has a keen grasp on the side-effects of arsenic and camphor and tansy and cyanide and strychnine. He’s been found to have dropped crystal phials filled with belladonna and ricin while fleeing a scene. If all else fails, he’s more than practiced with daggers.

In other words, he’s the kind of villain that none of you, with your flying suits and telekinesis and super-strength, are anywhere near prepared to waylay.

The plan, as far as team Avengers is concerned, is easy:

You and Loki. This town, where the webs of his manufacturing production and the few glimpses of information that Thor has totally legally excavated out of his captured minions has led to. Two days until some undefined grand attack bears down on the city you live in. Two days to find the Pink Cobra and kill him. The more time passes with no headway, the more you think that this is an impossible task, but you know what Tony would say. We have our best minds on it.

The thing is, you aren’t sure that that’s true. The minds that have been set to this task are you and the God of Lies. It’s hardly the best they could have come up with, considering your track records. Actually, you take that back - Loki was a good choice for this mission, because, not three hours after arriving in this hellhole of a city, he seems to have somehow developed the ability to read minds. More specifically, yours. And that could prove stunningly useful.

The scene, as it stands: Loki, sprawled across the lumpy bed, three pairs of crisp white shirts, a plaid scarf, and a full set of Asgardian battle armor neatly hung in the mothball-infested closet, flicking through channels on the grain, cracked television with an apathetic expression and one arm thrown haphazardly over bent leg. Propped up in such a way that he could jump or spin or parry at a moment’s notice, yet perfectly, devastatingly languid, leafing through Nick Fury’s dossier on the Pink Cobra. He looks at you like a god, you think, and then remember. He is one.

You, on the floor, because on top of all the other things this hotel doesn’t have, like two beds, there isn’t anything even resembling a desk, shifting through a glowing, holographed file archive from headquarters that barely runs on your severely outdated laptop. It’s a point of pride to you, keeping the laptop - not because it’s good, but because it’s survived five years of being an Avenger, which is something not even all the Avengers can claim to have done. You’re also fairly certain that Tony’s attempts to update the firmware had infested it with some sort of renegade virus. Elevated above your screen, the files are split into two groups, the sum total of everything that you know about both of the groups that are avidly trying to kill you.

There’s the wealth of information containing the Pink Cobra’s poisoning sprees, but those aren’t the files that interest you, and you know that Loki’s not much interested in them either. That honor falls to the fanatics at the IPP, the Imminently Predictable Psyops organization, which you know even less about than you do about the Pink Cobra, chief among which the fact that they need a new name. Imminently Predictable Psyops?, Tony had said, when you’d finally apprehended one of their proxies. What do they think this is? Some type of ARG?

What you’ve gleaned, from months worth of studying the network, is that they operate as a sort of cringe-oriented death cult intent on ‘reshaping the universe through meme agents’. They’d been on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar for a long time - upwards of a year - before anyone at team base learned they existed - which, you can almost hear Loki saying, was a failure in the extreme. Currently, it was your job to obsessively worry over whether they were going to send ‘meme agents’ to bust through the door of your seedy hotel room and off you both. You hated - truly loathed - how casually Loki was taking it all.

He’s acting like nothing was wrong with this situation, when, in fact, you’re ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that this night will end up with one or both of you dead. It is, to say the least, disconcerting.

Kill switch, the holograph files read. Cross-referential Neil Cicierega acoustic weaponry. Your mind sees the words, but doesn’t comprehend them, and you run a hand up to rub at your bleary eyes with annoyance. You risk a glance upwards; on the bed, Loki scans page after page after page with disinterested nonchalance, punctuating the flipping over of each document with a noncommittal hum; as if to say, I understand you. As it to say, This could be worse. You try to slip into that mindset. Certainly, things could be worse.

Actually, though? Not really.

Because, for all the world, the holo-file in front of you just said ‘Pepe The Frog Chaos Banking Laser Initiative’.

“What the fuck does that even mean?!”

“Sorry?”

You whip your head around. Loki, raising an eyebrow. Damn that - perfect - eyebrow.

“Sorry,” You echo back at him, rubbing your eyes again, perversely glad for the break, even if it is this awkward. “I … said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Marginally,” He tells you. “Yes.”

“Sorry,” You - well, it’s not a whine, not exactly. You’re tired, and there’s no way you’re going to sleep tonight, so you feel like your tone’s justified. “I didn’t mean to do that. I think I’m just - this is. Completely nonsensical.”

“Show me?” He asks, and you snort. He could totally just look up, but -

“Do you have a P.h.d in memes?” You ask him, and, before he can answer, “Because unless you have a P.h.d in memes, I don’t think you’ll be able to help.”

“You’d be surprised,” Loki says. Vaults over the bed with the speed and grace of a panther, filling the air with a cringing wheeze as the rusty springs bend underneath him, and landing in front of the holo-file, pushing you aside slightly to get a better view. When his fingers brush against your side, cool and firm, you flinch.

“Tired,” You offer, when he shoots you a momentarily concerned look. “Just. Need to sleep, later, I think.”

But Loki is already scanning the file, and when he looks up, not five seconds later, you want to hit somebody. Preferably, you think, him.

“I would assume,” Loki says, “That they’re using time travel in order to obtain and store monetary value by way of a Pepe-the-frog inspired laser array.”

“Oh,” You say. You blink once. Blink twice. Still have no idea what that means. “Right.”

“Do you not know your memes, love?” He asks you, smirking. And oh, if you don’t feel things.

“I don’t go on the internet, much,” You tell him. “Too busy, you know, trying not to get killed.”

Loki shrugs. Sidles away from the file. The groan and squeak of those springs tells you he’s back on the bed, giving you some well-needed space, but you can’t bring yourself to look.

“You can sleep,” He says, “If you want.”

“Ha!” You yelp/choke/embarrassingly bleat out into the room’s stale silence. Underneath the rotten eggs, you catch a whiff of bong-water. “No.”

“There’s a bed,” Loki says, cocking his head pointedly and patting the lumpy covers.

“Yeah, that’s - kind of the problem.”

“Why?” He asks you.

“You - really?”

“I was only asking,” Says Loki, re-focusing his attention on whichever Pink Cobra document’s next in the folder. “If you aren’t comfortable telling me - I merely thought, seeing as you were tired, you might take this opportunity to rest.”

“Yeah,” You tell him, “Of course, that’s - nice of you.”

It comes out stilted. Patently off. If he notices, he doesn’t say.

“Are you going to - um. Do you need help, with the rest? The ones I have seem kind of hopeless. I mean,” You say, when he doesn’t look up, “I don’t think that we have to worry about getting demolished by trans-dimensional Agarthian wormholes.”

“Of course not,”” Loki says, scoffing and incredulous, gaze, you are sure, on his page. “If they wanted to kill us, they’d send someone with a gun.”

In reality, it’s several someones.

***

“You jinxed it,” Is the first thing you tell him, when the men leave you. They’ve thrown you into a one-room warehouse, rickety shelves stacked with cartoonish tubs of green goop and mildewing boxes filled with grenades and machine guns and what appears, at second-glance, to be twelve-fingered latex gloves. You’re tied wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, and your throat feels uncharacteristically parched. Fear, you tell yourself. Apprehension. “Can’t you just - use your seidr to magic us out of this?”

If you could see him - which you can’t, because you’ve been tied back to back - you’d swear that Loki was glaring.

“Do you - do you have a plan?” You ask, after a moment.

“I’m working on it,” He says.

“That’s all?” You say. “We were dragged out of our drug-dealer’s hotel room by a bunch of robed men with guns and the only thing you have to say is ‘I’m working on it?’”

“I’d get it done faster,” Says Loki, “If you wouldn’t interrupt me.”

“Ok,” You tell him, “No interrupting you. Got it. That’s - Alright.”

Unfortunately, not interrupting him is easier said than done, because without the sound of your voice, you are left to your thoughts.

The men had broken in nearly immediately after Loki’s glib, sardonic retort to your worries, shooting the glass out of the room’s already half-smashed-in window and kicking the door in simultaneously. A bit much, isn’t it?, Loki’d asked, and you had wanted to smack yourself on the forehead. Really not the time, you had hissed, but Loki hadn’t seemed to hear you. Do you do this with everyone they send you to assassinate?, he had asked, instead. The men had been dressed in long, billowing cloaks of bright red, embroidered with orange snakes framing a picture of Beaker from the muppets with early 2000’s emo hair. Chaotic meme agents, you had thought to yourself. So that’s what they’re supposed to look like.

You hadn’t picked up, until now, on the snakes.

“They’re working together,” You say, when you can’t stand the playback of Loki being disarmed after spinning and tossing his silver daggers at the men, of the men kneeing him in the balls and twisting your arms behind your back, holding a gun to your head to stop you from trying to fight. Waking up in the back of a van that smelled like microwaved fish. Being tossed like garbage onto the floor of the warehouse, painted in bruises and cuts from the small pieces of glass that had dug their way into your skin. “The IPP and the Pink Cobra.”

“Obviously,” Loki says. Sharply.

“Did Tony not -“

“Stark,” Loki practically growls, and, ok, you’re not losing it but that did make you jump in your skin, “Is an idiot. He wouldn’t know how to connect the dots if they were presented to him in a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode.”

“That’s - You had that on Asgard?” You ask him, momentarily distracted. You wish that you could see Loki’s face, and are very glad that you can’t.

“That isn’t the point,” Loki says.

“I know,” You tell him. You’re scared that your voice is trembling. Scared that he can tell, even though he’s not facing you, how badly your fingers are shaking. Scared that he knows your worst, biggest secret -

That, despite being an Avenger, you are anxious. That, despite him being Loki, despite him being here, and wonderfully, infuriatingly himself, he cannot help you, this time.

You are going to die, covered in cuts and abrasions, on the floor of a meme network’s headquarters, at three a.m in the morning. They are going to come in with umbrellas that shoot poison darts or the ex-presidents Point Break masks and mow you down, and Loki has no fucking plan. You feel the ropes tighten where they’re knotted, itchy and fierce, and you have to fight to keep yourself from whining in terror and nerves. Whining isn’t what Loki needs right now. Whining’s not going to save you.

What is going to save you, you try and remind yourself, is Loki. If you can shut up. If you can let him decipher what needs to be done. If he can figure out some way to do it before the blowtorch-wielding robed vigilantes or some disincarnate meme god comes back and draws their electronically-sharpened fingernails across your throat hard enough to split skin and sinew, send waves of blood down the front of your shirt like a river of sweet, thick red honey and toss your corpse in a ditch by a highway and -

“Y/N?” It is foggy, barely-heard. Posh. “Y/N!” Louder, this time. There are fingers on your wrist, bent backwards to grip you. Squeezing, insistent and there. “Breathe.”

Fuck, you think. You’d started to hyperventilate. To shake, with a full-body tremor that forecasts a great, unstoppable wave of sobbing panic. And Loki had noticed. “I need you to trust me,” He says. “Trust me to get us out of this. Can you do that for me, darling?”

He has never called you darling before, but God how you’ve wanted him to. You feel like you’re being stabbed in the heart - because there is no way he means it, no way that this is anything other than a desperate and cruel attempt to get you to calm down. Something that belies how obvious you are. How needy you are. How pathetic. And yet -

And yet, he doesn’t say it meanly. He speaks like he cares about you, and in the face of your impending death, you want to think Loki cares. You’d let him say anything, do anything to you, right now. More than that, though, more than any of that - as you think back to meeting him, to your blossoming late-night friendship and twitchy banter and the quiet moments you’ve shared with him in-between battles -

“I trust you, Loki,” You tell him, and feel your breath quiet in you. Feel yourself growing still and calm with the certainty that Loki will do as he’s said.

That you will survive this.

That -

“Good,” Loki says. Not relieved, but determined. Leaving you no room to argue.

“So what do we do?” You ask him.

“Nothing,” Says Loki, and you can hear his wide grin.

“Nothing?” You ask him, gawking.

“Nothing,” Says Loki. He gives your hand a tight squeeze.

And then the Pink Cobra walks in.

***

This will end badly, you think. It’s about the only thing that you can think, preoccupied as you are with -

It might be easier not to -

Fuck.

The thing is - and you really do try not to move, not to groan, not to scream - the thing is, you thought that when Loki said he had a plan, that said plan wouldn’t involve you being collateral damage for a LARP-er who’d most likely broken out of an asylum. I wish that we could be back in that shitty one-bed hotel room, you think to yourself, and - alright, not the best timing, but it rips a laugh out of you, spiraling and unhinged, before you feel the Pink Cobra, resplendent in coral cloak and villainous swagger, slug you one in the jaw. It hurts worse than you’d thought it would - you’ve never really gotten injured on missions, you’re usually good at talking yourself out of things, which is why the Avengers keep you around. You can speak any language, as long as you’ve heard it once, and your customary daily awkwardness can shift into persuasion like flicking a light-switch on.

Usually, though, you had an opportunity to speak, and weren’t rendered speechless by -

Loki, if you’re being honest. How much you want to kiss him. How much of an asshole he is. Trust me, he’d asked you. Can you do that for me? The Pink Cobra’s grip is sharp and bruising on your side; he’s slipped his fingers up your shirt and is pressing the point on your side that threatens to make your knees buckle, making bile rise up in your throat, driving you wild with the aching need to flee. He has one hand clasped over your mouth, now that you’ve quieted, and you can feel something - pain, and a pill - pressed snugly into his palm. He will force it down you, you know, if Loki so much as sighs wrong.

You’ll never trust him again.

You wish that you knew what the time was. If you end up dying at 4:20, you’re going to throw fists with somebody in hell.

You wish, also, for aspirin. Avengers training has left you woefully unprepared for the reality of getting punched in the face. You can already feel your jaw starting to swell, taste an egregious amount of blood. You’re pretty sure that the force of the blow knocked a tooth out.

What strikes fear into you, though - a fear somehow deeper than the absolutely bone-chilling, blood-curdling knowledge of what the Pink Cobra might do to you - is the look you’d seen on Loki’s face in the seconds after he’d grabbed you, before it fell into practiced, amused apathy. He’d gone white, and his eyes had blown wide. His fingers had spasmed with anger.

He’d looked as scared as you feel.

And you have no idea why.

It isn’t like you’re anyone special. Not any more than the rest of the team. Less so than most of them. You aren’t a god, like Loki and Thor are. You don’t have stealth-assassin training, like Bucky, or super-strength like Steve. You can’t seamlessly pilot mechanical suits over the New York skyline like Tony, or use a crossbow like Clint, or beat thirty people in single-hand combat like Nat, or change into a nitro-fueled rage machine like Bruce.

You can’t do anything, much.

Except, apparently, die.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not letting yourself look at him. You won’t let Loki’s disinterested face be the last thing that you see. It makes the Pink Cobra’s words all the worse, when he speaks. His voice is dark and sick and timbered, and you feel maggots crawling over your skin as he slots you closer to his body, tightening his already painful grip on you so that you can’t move even an inch away from his tensed, coiled muscles.

“So,” He says, “You are superheroes? How long did it take me, to apprehend you? Ah - three and a half hours? Tell your boss-man, do better next time.”

“I’ll pass it along,” Loki says. His voice sounds different. You can’t place why. Still won’t look.

“You won’t,” The Pink Cobra says. You can feel his shoulders rise, then fall. Feel him smirk. You love Loki’s smirk - secretly delight in drawing it from him, sometimes - but the Pink Cobra’s only fills you with yet more terror. You’ve pursed your lips tightly shut against the intrusion of his hand, but when Loki speaks he forces your bruised, bleeding jaw open and shoves the pill into your mouth. The pain of your injury tears through you like white lightning and you thrash, trying to escape. A keening sound claws its way out of you, fevered and anguished, and you feel your hands, still bound up in ropes, trying in vain to push off and away. The man behind you sighs, and then aims a swift kick at the back of your knees, which sends you down before you can so much as yelp. Your knees hit the floor, and he’s holding you by your hair now, twisting it so hard that you’re almost sure he’ll scalp you. He’s pulled something - too big to be be a knife, some kind of shortsword?! - Out from beneath his cloak, and is pressing it up against the column of your throat. You feel the weight of the capsule between your teeth heavily now, and realize what it means in the split-second before the Pink Cobra bends and whispers, Your choice; stale and rancid into the shell of your ear.

Next, he addresses Loki.

“You’ll be wanting to know what our plan is,” He says. Our, you think. We were right. “Hmm? I know how you people are. Always wanting to know. Tell me this, Mischief Man. What will I get, if I tell you? What price are you willing to pay?”

You know what this is. You know it like the ache in your heart when Loki brushes you off. Like the safety you feel in his arms. You open your eyes. Take in Loki’s face - he’s trying to hide, but you know, you know how he feels. You know what he’s going to choose.

And you know that you can’t let him choose it.

“You’ll let her go,” Loki asks, “If we let you leave here?”

“The thing could be managed.”

No, you think. No, Loki, don’t! Whatever the Pink Cobra’s going to do, whatever the IPP’s planning, knowing’s worth more than your life.

“One thing I want to know,” Loki says. He’s twirling a knife of his own, a slim silver number he keeps on him at all times, and you feel the blade on your own throat start to dig in - not enough to draw blood, but enough for you to feel it. The threat of it. The promise of it, and the coldness of the gleaming metal. “You and the IPP? How does it fit?”

“You want information from me?” The Pink Cobra asks. Lets his blade bite you, just barely, and the strength it takes for you not to scream is more strength then you’d known you possess.

“Yes,” Says Loki. “It’s not like I’m asking for much.”

He meets your gaze. You meet his. You hope that he cannot read it. His eyes are so worried, so desperate, you nearly break down.

“I suppose,” The Pink Cobra says, “That you’ve earned it. Getting here - getting this far - it must have been no easy task. Fine. There is no Imminently Predictable Psyops organization. They were a - what do you call it? Red herring? A scent of blood for the shark.”

“You fabricated them,” Loki says. “Why would you fabricate them?”

He is losing his composure, you can tell. You will never be ready for this. He will never be ready for this. You hope that he will forgive you, and you know that he never will, and you swallow the pill in your mouth.

“Because it was fun,” The Pink Cobra says.

And then your body knows pain.

***

“He didn’t think I would do it,” You say. Your mouth feels thick, clotted with blood and shock, and your body is one raw, gaping wound, but the giddy feeling of victory has begun to course through your veins. Pure, unfiltered adrenaline. You had waited for the moment of death to come, and it hadn’t. The pill is fake, your mind had screamed. But there’d been one thing left, that might work. You had breathed as slowly as you possibly could, forced every muscle of your scared, writhing body into single-minded limpness, rolled your eyes backwards into your head, drew one last breath in, and fallen. Twitched, for a few seconds, like a rag-doll. Then made yourself still.

Loki had slit the Pink Cobra ear to ear, beaten him within an inch of his life as he bled out, screaming like a man deranged. He’d left him a wet, bloody mess on the floor, and the blood had run down the not-quite-steady plane of it, pooling around you and mixing with the blood from your jaw, from the evening’s earlier glass cuts, from the deep, burning stab wound the Cobra had got on your arm.

You breathe, and your body knows pain.

You look at Loki, and your body knows pain.

He is shaking. Visibly shaking. His hands are clenched into fists at his side, and he looks as pale as bleached bones. His eyes are shot red - he had sobbed, when you fell, and a howl had torn through his body. You don’t know what to do, what it means, what the hell even to say to him. His cheeks are tear-stained, his breaths ragged.

You blink, and your body feels pain.

“We won,” You croak out. “Loki, we won.” It hurts worse than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. “I think he broke one of my ribs.”

You don’t mean to say that last part, but you do, and you are the one crying now, because it feels like he probably has, and you can barely even stay awake through this pain. It feels like the Hulk is pulling you limb from limb. Like all of those nightmares you’ve had where Loki decided to leave you - to go back to Asgard, and never speak to you again.

Stupid, you think. He won’t, again. Not after this.

Loki still hasn’t spoken. He’s looking at you, and his eyes are wild. Desperately, jaggedly roaming your body. His fists twitch with every new part of your body they land on.

“That bad, huh - Oh, fuck.”

And just like that, the tension leaves Loki’s body. The dam that had held him firmly in place is broken, and he’s running towards you with none of his usual grace. Dropping down by your side. He hoists you, and you hiss, and the tears won’t stop coming, so you bury your face in his shirt, nose pressed at the crisply ironed collar. Don’t care that it’s bleeding, because Loki’s here now. Holding you. Keeping you real. He’s got one hand stroking your hair and his touch feels right, nothing like the Pink Cobra’s, and he’s whispering: You brave, precious, idiot, how dare you, how dare you throw your life away like that?!

“It worked,” You exhale - it’s the most you can manage. You would laugh, if it wouldn’t shred you to pieces. Loki cradles you fiercely, hands grasping at the sweat-and-blood soaked fabric of your shirt, running over you as if he doesn’t believe you’re alive. “It - hurts,” You get out. Barely. “Loki, it - I can’t -“

“Don’t,” He tells you. His voice has gone brittle, choked with thorns. “Don’t talk. Don’t - Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me? You will never do that again.”

If I need to, I will, you think. And you wonder if that’s why you’re here. Wonder if that’s why you’re strong. You wonder, and hurt, and believe. Feel the strength of him, clutching you like you’re the only thing in the world, taking in greedy lungfuls of your weeping, your need for his touch.

You can’t talk, anymore. It hurts too badly. But you surge, upwards, up into where he’s holding the back of your head, pressing your forehead into the dark, warm space under his jaw that smells like smoke and peppermint. Loki is taller than you are - you fit right into the curve of his neck, and his long curls curtain you in a bubble of warmth and content.

“Promise,” You say, but it comes out unintelligible, and Loki’s hands are running, so gently, over your skin.

“What was your plan?” You ask him, forcing it out of your body.

“Hush,” Loki says, “Later.”

There might not be any later, you think. Not like this.

***

In the hotel room, an ocean of scattered pages and ceiling mold and blessed privacy, you balance, cross-legged, on the bed. The wind blows wet and cold from an earlier rain through the busted out window. You have managed this out of sheer stubborn-ness, because it is the most that Loki allowed you to do. You’d passed out, twice, on the journey back - he had magicked you there, though it had taken a considerable amount of effort that you weren’t sure you really deserved - and had immediately propped you up on the pillows and stooped to ruffle through his suitcase, emerging not long after with binding tape, cat-gut thread, and a needle so sharp you could feel it slicing your flesh. You had opened your mouth to protest, but Loki had silenced you with a glare that could fell Director Fury. So you had gone quiet, and caved, letting him kneel over you on the distinctly lumpy mattress and begin inspecting your wounds. It had taken a few tries and a Please to convince him to let you sit on your own, and it hurt much more than the manner in which he’d arranged you. You were starting to, slightly, regret it.

“You don’t have to do this,” You say, pulling it from bleeding lips. He shushes you with a harsh, stern tut. “You’re not my mother,” You tell him.

“You could have died,” Loki says. There’s a snarling undercurrent to it that you can’t even start dissecting. “What were you thinking?” He asks. It is easier, though still painful, for you to answer him - he had used nearly half of his Thor-limited magic reserve to perform a basic stasis spell on your injuries, but the spell wouldn’t last forever. You’ll need stitches, he’d said, choking it out like he was the hurt one when he’d seen the number the Cobra’s blade had done to your arm.

“I’ve had worse,” You say, grinning weakly.

“Are you lying to me?” He asks you, with the tone of someone who’s distinctly not in the mood for joking.

“I thought,” You say. Steel yourself. “I thought you weren’t going to do what needed to be done. So I - Did it myself.”

“What needed to be done.” Loki says, enunciating every word.

“We couldn’t let him walk away,” You say, meeting his eyes. Emerald, clouded with fury. You don’t let yourself flinch from that anger. You don’t let yourself run from your choice. “You know what he would have done.”

“I don’t,” Loki says. “I know nothing. I know - I know that you think that your life means so little I wouldn’t care if you were gone. That I could - Live, without you.”

That’s… different.

“And I know,” Loki continues, “That I told you to trust me, and I meant it.”

“I do,” You say. There is no hesitation. “I trust you - Loki. Of course I trust you. It’s not - it wasn’t -“

“Stop talking,” He snaps. Gentles, when you jerk your head away, blink back a fresh wave of tears. “You need rest,” He says. “And - This is. This is going to hurt.”

You nod.

“Best get it over with, then.”

“You should keep your eyes closed,” He says.

“No! I want - I need to look.” You bring your eyes up to your arm, which he’s settled onto bed’s chewed, scratchy quilt without you realizing, but Loki tilts your head up with a barely-there graze of his fingers, achingly gentle to avoid aggravating your swollen jaw. He holds your gaze for a long time. Doesn’t look mad, anymore.

“Are you sure?” He asks you. Like all of this could be over with, if you wanted.

“How bad it could it be?” You ask back.

The injury is horrendous. You’d thought - honest-to-God, you’d thought the pain was terrible, but you weren’t ready for what your arm has become. The line of the wound runs in a craggy jigsaw from just under your shoulder to the tip of your elbow. Small wonder you can’t move it, can barely think through it at all.

“Y/N?” Loki asks, “Are you -“

“Fine,” You say. Blink, and your body knows pain. Try not to let how scared you are show, when you look back up at Loki. The Pink Cobra’s dead. You shouldn’t be scared, anymore. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”

Loki sighs. Long and low and sad.

“Will I have to - “

“Bite,” Loki says, and shoves something - the sleeve of his shirt, crusted in blood which you realize, sickeningly, is yours - into your mouth. “It’ll help.”

It doesn’t, but he holds your hand through it, hushing you through the pain with furrowed eyebrows, thread and needle flying deftly through skin, air, skin again. His fingers move precisely, deliberate, quick, and when, on one stitch, you audibly whimper, he pauses to lean down and press a soft, utterly unexpected kiss to your hairline. You are unable to fully express how much it means to you, so you do the next best thing and kiss him yourself, pressing him back once he’s finished the last of his stitches and breathing all the the words you can’t say into him. You press every fear and gratitude and lingering nerve into the warmth of his lips, wending your fingers through his dark hair despite the pangs of agony still thrumming through every inch of your body. Your face hurts, but the kiss is all you’ve ever needed and more, and Loki is so, so gentle with you, pulling away with creased eyebrows and a look of genuine concern.

“I wanted to,” You tell him, mustering all of your strength. “It didn’t hurt.”

“Stop,” He tells you, voice cracking, “Stop lying.”

“I’m not,” You say. “I wanted to, Loki, I did.”

“And you wanted to -“

“No.” You are vehement about it, for a broken-ribbed, broken-jawed, freshly-stitched person coming off the high of his teeth and his tongue. “Not that, I swear, never that.”

“Why did you do it, then?” Loki asks. He has steepled his fingers under his chin, and his narrowed eyes pierce through you to the soul. You couldn’t lie to this man, you think, if your life depended on it.

You know that you have to tell him, this time. Really tell him. You don’t.

“”Why didn’t you use your magic?”

“You know why,” He says, and you do. You’d remembered it as the white pill turned to white powder in your gums, as the Pink Cobra’s knife had carved its way into your flesh. Thor had put a set limit on it, as condition of Loki’s release - Proof, he had said, We can trust you. Loki had thought to save it for later, that you wouldn’t need him right then. He had thought you’d talk them out, to safety.

You’d failed him.

“You didn’t,” He tells you, voice raw. He goes to grip your chin, to force you to listen to him, but with a glance and ill-concealed wince at your purpled jaw he thinks better of it. “You think that you failed me? You let yourself be - be beaten and stabbed - just so people you’ve never met in your life wouldn’t die, and you call that a failure?” He runs a hand through his hair. Bites back a snarl. Drops your arm. “I need you to listen to me,” Loki says, “Very, very carefully. You’re going to tell me why now, love. And then we’re going to fix it.”

You raise an eyebrow. Worse than he does, you’re aware.

“Sleep,” He amends, with a pointed look at the bed underneath you, “And then we’re going to fix it.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, “And I feel like I just got run over by a truck.”

Loki huffs, a puff of warm air that you feel, from how close he still is. A grin twitches at the edge of his lips. It sets off sparks inside you.

“I thought -“ You say. Shake your head, and restart. “You would have let the Pink Cobra attack. You would have let him just walk away, and I couldn’t just - let that happen.”

“Enlightening.”

“No,” You tell him, “I mean it. I couldn’t - I’m not - I’m not worth more than anyone else. We’re the Avengers. It’s our job to save people, Loki.”

He’s regarding you carefully, eyes still narrowed, all vestiges of softness gone from his face. When he opens his mouth, it’s to close it. Form thoughts. Discard them. Exhale.

“My mother once told me,” He finally says, “That I would never know what it meant to be human until I found the person who made me want to bleed the world dry. Take all of its’ suffering, all of its’ cruelty, and leech it out of the very fabric of time, just to keep that person from anguish, from harm.”

“I don’t -“

He holds a hand up. You still.

“She never said they would infuriate me,” Loki says. “She never said they would make me laugh, or smile, or question my sanity on a regular basis. She never said that they’d try and get themselves killed, and that I’d have to watch, and that I would feel like my heart was being ripped from my body and torn to a bloody pulp; that I would make the sky rain blood and fire at the sight of it alone. But she was right about one thing - Many things, but also this. She told me that it wouldn’t matter. That I would - love you - anyway.”

“You don’t,” You say, not daring to hope. It’s an automatic retort.

“Foolish girl,” Loki chides, and you blink back fresh, stinging tears. How long have you wanted to hear Loki say that to you? How many sneaky looks have you stolen in the heat of your missions, just to see his smart mind and tricky magic at work? How many nights have you sat up together, sequestered from your insomnia in a bubble of hard-earned banter and peppermint tea, fighting the tight, coiling urge to push aside your steaming mugs and pull him into your needing?

He could not - he can’t - feel the same.

“Loki,” You say, stumbling over the words, “You can’t - This is - This is me we’re talking about.”

“Is there anyone else here,” Loki asks you, “That I could be talking about?” He seems nonchalant, now, as if this - this cruel fucking joke, when you already feel you’re on fire - is merely a fact of his life. “We’re going to leave this excuse of a town, and get you - proper care. Fix it. Because I will not, on my honor, watch you suffer in pain. But first, you’re going to sleep.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, and feel your resolve as it shatters. You cling to the statement like it’s the last remnant of the girl you were and the woman that you’ll never be, “And the shower doesn’t work. And I’m covered in blood.”

But when you look at Loki, his eyes twinkle, mischievous.

“Will you stay with me?,” You ask him, biting your lip.

“You astound me,” He tells you, and rolls his eyes, and it feels - it feels normal. Good. A tender heat unfurls in your heart like orchid petals in the sun, numbing the persistent ache in your ribcage. “To even think that I would do anything else.”

Later, you will ask him why. Why do you love me?, you will ask, and Loki will hum, low in his throat, curled around you just like this first night; your back pressed into his chest, your legs tangled up hopelessly, his fingers tracing nonsense patterns onto your spine in the dawn-light’s syrupy gold. Because, he will tell you, trailing a line of soft kisses up the scar on your arm - an ugly thing, but it functions, mostly, and only ever seems to hurt on the days when he isn’t there - I was given no choice.

But if you’d had one?”, You will ask, and spin around, propping yourself on your elbow.

You tempt me, He’ll tell you, baring his sharp teeth. Shouldn’t you know better than that?

You will lie there, next to each other, not needing a single word. Because you will know. Because he will have told you, a thousand times, a thousand ways, exactly how he feels about you.

Tonight, though, isn’t that night. It takes a moment to get settled in his hold, and the rain spits and drums against what glass remains in your window, slicking the carpet with dark, greasy splotches. It figures, you think, that even the rain in this city has the smell and the texture of oil. You feel like a bag of bones, stretched too thin. But safe, in his arms, in a way that you’ve never felt, before now. Loki is with you, you realize. Wrapped around you like a traveler’s cloak, the comforting weight of a slim, balanced blade at your side in a fight. He is cool, around your afraid. Warm, where his clever fingers whine and needle their way through your skin to your heart.

“I hate you,” You tell him, “You know that?”

Loki laughs, a deep, rumbling purr.

“Go to sleep.”

#picture1000wordswc #pic 4 #loki/reader #female reader #crack #so much crack #just a lot of references to bad memes and cringe movies that turns into all the angst #because for some reason i’m like this #guess which character from another popular franchise i based my crack villain off #soundtrack to this was 800 percent mouth moods #in all seriousness though huge congrats to @startrekkingaroundasgard #you deserve all the love #unfortunately i showed my love by writing insane crack fic but HEY #loki is in it so hopefully that makes up for the c r i n g e

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azucanela · 4 years ago

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7. SNEAKING SOMEONE OUT | SHINSOU HITOSHI

1K CELEBRATION MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Shinsou finds himself craving chicken nuggets, and Y/N’s presence, at 2AM. So naturally, he comes over and helps her sneak out so that they can get food and hang out, much to Y/N’s dismay.

WORD COUNT: 2K

WARNINGS: crackfic turned sad boy hours but also fluff

A/N: this got deep and is basically pure self indulgence of my emotions

Y/N really should’ve expected this. She really should have.

Shinsou had a tendency to simply, not sleep, he was a certified insomniac. No matter how many solutions Y/N had offered him, none of them worked. Which is why Y/N tended to wake up to about 75 messages from Shinsou each morning, varying from memes, to tik toks, to philisophical rambles, to the stupidest questions he’d ever asked her.

He’d never texted her this much though, her phone nearly falling off the nightstand because of how much it was vibrating whilst on silent, rousing her from sleep. Y/N groaned into her pillow, hand extending to her right in search of her phone as she patted around the nightstand with no success. Inhaling deeply, Y/N rolled onto her back, bring her hands up to rub her eyes before stretching her arms upward as she sat up in bed and turned to her side. Y/N picked up her phone, squinting at the ridiculously bright light that met her eyes as she read the time.

2:03AM

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her lock screen, a picture of her and Shinsou, taken at a school festival they’d had. It had taken a lot of convincing to get him to agree to a photo, much to Y/N’s dismay, but he relented eventually. The memory only served as a reminded of the messages displayed on her screen, a lot of messages, most of which were from Shinsou. But Y/N only found herself looking at the most recent ones.

shinsou <3 y/n wake up

y/n

y/n get up

im coming over now, and no you don’t have a choice in this matter

you better be awake by the time i get there or i will egg your window

we are going to get food by the way [1:34AM]

shinsou <3 hey loser im here

climb out your window

are you even awake

y/n i swear [2:01AM]

In a perfect world, Shinsou would’ve been joking, and Y/N would’ve been able to go back to bed and text him again in the morning about a weird video she saw online. However this was Shinsou and the world was far from perfect. Meaning the boy was definitely parked outside her house. Y/N moved to slip out of bed and peer outside her window, only to see Shinsou was already standing on the grass of her front yard, fingers typing furiously against his phone as Y/N felt her phone vibrate in her hand once more.

She found herself glaring as she threw the phone onto the bed to free both her hands and open the window. Pushing the window up, Y/N bent down slightly to put the upper half of her body outside as she called out to Shinsou, “what the hell?”

The boy looks up almost instantly, and Y/N can practically see the panic in his eyes, though it fades when he realizes it was her who spoke, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Are you ready?” He calls back in a hushed whisper, eyes narrowing as he scans the surrounding area.

“Shinsou—” Y/N brings a hand to her temple as she exhales deeply, “we are not going out to eat, it two in the morning!” She cried out, one hand making vivid gestures in an attempt to get her point across, while the other supported her weight on her slanted roof.

He rolled his eyes in response, “there’s a reason that some fast food restaurants are open all day long. This is the reason, now let’s go.” Shinsou has that same apathetic tone he uses everyday, as though this is something completely normal that they do everyday.

“I am not sneaking out of my house so that you can get some— some chicken nuggets!”

Shinsou falters, face falling temporarily as he presses his lips together, “if you really don’t want to Y/N, you don’t have to.” His voice is soft enough that she can barely hear him because of the distance between them, but she does. Y/N can tell he means it, this isn’t an attempt to guilt her into going with him, and yet she can’t help but feel horrible for not going along with it.

Which is why Y/N was now dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, trying her hardest not to fall off her roof as Shinsou called out to her, “Y/N. Don’t make me use my quirk—”

“You wouldn’t dare.” They both knew he’d never use his quirk on her, he had far too much respect for her. And he’d explicitly told her, more accurately, promised her during one of their rare late night talks, that he’d never try.

He doesn’t reply, simply glaring at her as he comes up from under the edge of the roof, where Y/N had been sitting for the past few minutes, in fear of jumping off. “Just jump.”

“No.” She practically hissed, scowling as she peered over the side of the roof once more, viewing the drop, which wasn’t that far. Shinsou also stood below, meeting her glare with his own annoyed stare.

“Y/N, come on.”

“You should be grateful I am even accompanying you, i could easily just go back to the safety of my room and have a simple and quiet night but you insisted—”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want, just come on.”

Looking back on it, Y/N really didn’t think this was worth it. Her parents would very likely end her life should they discover her... late night escapades alongside Shinsou, but at the same time, this was odd behavior for him. Texts in the middle of the night were normal, yes, but randomly deciding to come over because he wants food at 2AM? Weird.

But Y/N couldn’t deny the that this was fun. Driving down practically empty roads, phone plugged into the aux so she could play whatever music she wanted— though Shinsou judged every song she played rather brutally. The windows were rolled down all the way and Y/N had never felt more refreshed as she sat beside Shinsou in the passenger seat of his car, watching as he ordered their food through the drive through.

A comfortable silence fell between them as he paid and thanked the cashier at the window, retrieving their food and wordlessly handing it to Y/N before driving to the parking lot of the establishment. She found herself taking sips of her milkshake and absentmindedly eating fries.

Yet Y/N couldn’t help but feel concerned as she looked over at the boy, hand on the wheel as he quietly hummed along to the playlist they shared. Drives with Shinsou weren’t rare, seeing as he drove Y/N to school practically daily, especially since he didn’t trust her driving skills.

Her brows furrow as she leans back in her seat, folding her arms before speaking, “are you okay, Hitoshi?” Y/N looks away from him, “answer honestly.”

She can feel his eyes land on her when she finished speaking, Y/N can’t help that she floods with anxiety as she awaits his answer, only to look to Shinsou to see a small smile on his face as he parks in the parking lot of the brightly lit restaurant. “Yeah. I’m good actually.” Y/N tilts her head at his words, awaiting for him to continue, he seems to consider what he says next carefully, “are you glad you came here, with me?”

Though Y/N feared the repercussions should they get caught, she already knew her answer, “yes. I’m happy to be here.” Y/N fidgets with her fingers as she inhales deeply, eyes drifting to her window, “I think— I think I would’ve regretted it more, if I hadn’t come with you actually. And I don’t want to regret anything.” She bites her lip anxiously, picking at her fingernails, “I wish I was more adventurous sometimes, I guess?”

Y/N couldn’t explain the feeling well, the one that made her wonder if she was missing out on certain parts of life, parts that she might’ve experienced if she had been just a bit more bold. In the moment, yeah, it seemed horrifying, but Y/N couldn’t help but wonder afterwards if she should’ve said yes. She couldn’t help but feel regretful as she wondered what could’ve been.

Sitting there with Shinsou made her feel like a hypocrite though, seeing as she’d had feeling for the boy for longer than she cared to admit, and would likely regret never telling him. Though Y/N was fairly sure she would regret it more if she did tell him and he rejected her, so hiding her feelings was far more ideal. But the small part of her that wanted to tell him, to just come forward with her feelings, regardless of the outcome.

Y/N tries to push away these thoughts, bringing her attention back to the moment at hand as Shinsou rests his head against the seat, fingers tapping at the wheel of the parked vehicle, “I get it.” Comes his reply, and he seems to be rather deep in thought as he sits there, hand reaching into his bag for some fries.

Y/N feels compelled to speak, to tell him that he does make her happy, because she can tell that a small part of him doesn’t believe her, so when she opens her mouth the words just begin to fall out. “You make me happy, you know.” Y/N doesn’t know how else to explain it, and she doesn’t see his eyes widen a fraction as he shifts in his seat to look at her, “I never would’ve done something like this before I met you. But...” Y/N turns to meet his eyes, offering him a smile, “well, I’m really glad I met you Hitoshi. You make me feel like I’m living—”

“And there’s a difference between living and just being alive, you know?”

Y/N can’t help the way her cheeks warm, feeling as though she overshared as she watches Shinsou nod slowly, “I get it.” He repeats, brows drawing together, he opens his mouth just to close it immediately after.

“What?”

Shinsou straightens at her words, clearing his throat as he brings a hand to the back of his neck, “I don’t... I don’t want to regret anything either.” His lips press together in a tight lipped smile as he looks up at the roof of the car for a moment, cursing quietly before returning his gaze to Y/N.

Their third year would be starting soon, and Shinsou had considered this for a while. No matter how close he and Y/N were now, he couldn’t help but wonder where they’d be after graduating from UA. Both of them would be heading out in the world to become heroes, something that would likely take them in two very different directions. Maybe they’d never speak again after graduation, or maybe their friendship would fade, but Shinsou had a feeling his feelings never would. Y/N’s words just served as a reminder of just how finite their time together was.

Shinsou didn’t know when he fell for her, maybe it was right now, watching her take a sip of her milkshake as she watched him curiously, flustered under his piercing gaze. Maybe it was that time in class when she’d let him fall asleep just to wake him at the end and hand him notes she’d taken just for him, or maybe it was when she hugged him for the first time because he’d gotten in the hero course. He decided that didn’t matter, because he did know that Y/N L/N wasn’t going to be one of his regrets.

"I’m in love with you.”

A/N: this is unedited and the product of my brain at 1AM so i sincerely hope its not bad jkashdjkashdkjh

TAGLISTS:

BNHA: @shawkneecaps @beifongsss

#azucanela 1k #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #shinso x you #shinsou x you #shinsou hitoshi x you #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinso hitoshi x you #shinso hitoshi x reader #hitoshi x reader #hitoshi x you #hitoshi shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x you #hitoshi shinsou x you

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respect-the-fae · 4 years ago

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Things that remind me of: Dionysus

When you're drunk and giggling and you probably aren't actually speaking English anymore but you're all warm and fuzzy and about to make some fucking awful decisions but you can't bring yourself to care.

Sparkling water. Idk, Dionysus just seems like the dude who decided "make the water taste like TV static" and I respect that.

When you remember something funny out of nowhere and you're just there, giggling your arse off, and everyone around you looks a little afraid that you're insane but you can't bring yourself to care.

Being wine drunk, which is an entirely different kind of drunk. The kind of drunk where the only reason you don't do something stupid like steal an ambulance or shag your ex is because you can't stop crying over chicken nuggets.

Glow in the dark face paint.

Learning intricate braids to braid your friends hair and weave flowers into it because everyone looks prettier with flowers in their hair.

That moment when you're in a room with your crush(es) and you freeze in place and your brain goes 'dumbass.exe has stopped working' because HOLY FUCKING SHIT THEY'RE SO CUTE AND YOU WANNA KISS THEM AND FEED THEM GRAPES ON A PICNIC BLANKET.

Flirty kisses to the cheek that are too close to the lips to be innocent but too far to count as anything else but a tease.

Vampires. Not the concept of them as a species, just them being hot. No one but our boi Dionysus could look at the original stereotype for a vampire and go "yes but consider: they're hot af and we should all wanna bang them".

Cats. All cats. Big cats, small cats, tiny cats, evil cats, good cats. They just have big Him energy.

Memes. Don't argue with me on this. Memes was the work of Dionysus and his big chaotic sister Eris, and none of you can change my mind.

The Hercules Disney film.

When you break a limb and you get a cast and you let your friends write and draw all over it and you just have to hope they haven't drawn a weirdly anatomically accurate penis on it.

Making your bedroom really cold so it feels like a cuddle when you bundle under your blankets on the bed.

Finding weird places to do your hobbies. Reading under a bed by flashlight. Knitting in a tree. Pressing flowers in the wardrobe. Practising calligraphy by a lake.

Snack stashes.

Tiktok. Dionysus made tiktok, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

When your friend is sad so you buy 3 bottles of wine and get some takeout. And you stuff your faces while watching Legally Blonde and swearing at Warner.

Pasta bowties.

Hope you like this one! I'm not sure why you like them in the first place tbh but if you want more of my dumbass thoughts on deities, I shall happily oblige.

Next will be Ares! My patron!

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demonfox38 · 3 years ago

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Okay. Made it through the last season of Netflix's "Castlevania" interpretation. Thoughts are below the cut.

I've often thought of this series as the exploitation version of "Castlevania," and hiring Malcom McDowell confirms that.

Although, I find it hilarious that both Malcolm McDowell and Patrick Stewart have ended up voicing the same character. I'm sure there's a "Star Trek Generations" joke to be made in there, but I'm not Mike Stoklasa.

Also, I was cracking up a bit when Varney's plot twist happened. Mostly, because it came off a bit Skeletor-esque in vocal performance.

Also, also—laughing that the final boss went the "Castlevania: Lament of Innocence" route despite barely touching on that game's plot.

Animation had its ups and downs with this season. It seemed like there were some frame issues (not enough inbetweening.) I do appreciate how they incorporated more of Alucard's SOTN animations into his fights, however.

Additionally, some of the fight scenes' pacing seemed to have issues, particularly regarding weapon recovery.

The whole bit with St. Germain was off. Like, he's a weird asshole in "Castlevania: Curse of Darkness", but he's more of a weird asshole there in the same way that casually encountering "Doctor Who"'s Doctor would also be strange. Not a straight up villainous boob. Kinda makes sense thematically to have another character who is willing to do horrible shit for their lost loved one, but the series honestly did not do a good job establishing her. Like, did she even have a voice actor? Or a name? All I'm saying is it was much easier for outsiders to get the Lisa revenge thing Dracula had going.

Also, how dare you joke about not being deaf and then have a villainous monologue, TV show.

Greta's a good girl. Well, outside of being an occasional homewrecker. Point is, she's competent and trying her best to save people in a bad situation, and anyone having issues with her is not to be trusted in the same way that you don't trust people who don't like Rochelle from "Left 4 Dead 2."

Look at me. Do not trust people who do not like Rochelle from "Left 4 Dead 2." Yes, her writing could have been better, but she's still a viable character. Let people Thunder Child their ships on the rocks of your better self. Got me?

Also, y'all really need to embrace more polyamory. Or understand the fact that Alucard's not going to love just one person in his life. Dude lives to be at least 600 in the game's timeline. For a dude who loves humans, constricting him to just one who may live to be 100 at best is cruel.

There are some interesting philosophical dialogues going on here, but I can see where some people may lose their patience for them. Considering one of Castlevania's most popular memes is a philosophy debate, you're just gonna have to suck that up. My personal favorites included the topic of acting versus reacting, as well as having agency in one's story.

Striga's battle theme was cool, but otherwise, the music was forgettable. Yes, that is a sin. Punishable by Death? In this series, maybe!

The gore's still over the top. Which, okay, fine. There's a bit of that in game. It's just generally a bit more reserved with it or uses it in crucial boss fights.

RIP doggie.

The Targoviste plot's a bit of a wash, but it doesn't feel as useless as Trevor and Sypha's previous plot predicament. It's just nothing of a surprise, considering how many times the writing has played the "authority figures are useless" and "dark secret surprise" tropes in this series. Like, Greta being reliable is actually more surprising than anything with this plot.

I cannot emphasize enough how boring I found Carmilla's interpretation and plot arc. You guys could have had a giant, naked lesbian riding a skull and spewing magic at people while her cat-eared girlfriend jumped them for extra damage. But no. Vanilla lady with a scarlet sword for you. So long. Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen. Good night.

Gotta say, as much of a deviation from his source character as he is, Isaac really turned out well in this series. He's definitely evidence that you don't always need to stick to source material.

His Abel is fucking sick, dude. Way to go, king.

Also, I was expecting more violence from Hector this season. Oh, well. At least he got a teeny bit of a spine.

Look. I'm not an alchemist by any means. I'm just a bit baffled by this season's emphasis of obtaining a Rebis. Like, any time the game series has talked about the Magnum Opus of Alchemy, it's more been in pursuit of making a Philosopher's Stone (or at the very least, a Crimson Stone, as seen in "Castlevania: Lament of Innocence.") Pulling a Rebis out of the aether is…well. Could have been more interesting than it was. I mean, it was a bit nightmarish, but it really didn't do much.

Sypha's really never getting back to her family, is she?

Love the idea that the cross subweapon is basically a fancy chakram.

GERGOTH. BUDDY. FRIENDO.

Really appreciating the monster variety in these last two seasons. I mean, that's a big selling point of the "Castlevania" games. Not so much vampires standing around and bickering in dick-waving contests.

Breaking out of the bullet points to hit on the big subject of this season—that is, the ending being surprisingly happy.

There's been a lot of shit that's happened over the last few years. Obviously, a pandemic. Konami's run by pricks. Then, there's the situation with the allegations of sexual coercion with Warren Ellis. Additionally, the terrible ending of "Game of Thrones" likely impacted how this season was developed, considering it seemed to be chasing its progression in construction. (I mean, look at Carmilla and Daenerys.) I don't know how many people were happy with the last season of "Castlevania," but from my POV, it double-tapped itself in the foot with the way it pushed simultaneous sex and violence in its last two episodes. My point is, there was little taste for additional darkness, considering everything that has been happening. Society is drained.

A happy ending was what people really wanted. And man, did this pull through, in that regard. But, there's a conversation to be had in if this swerved too far or if it violates some artistic integrity to give people what they want. So, let's have it.

Look. Man. Have you seen a "Castlevania" ending? When you do it right, it's crumbled castles and rainbow-colored skies. If you do it really right, it results in a pretty girl holding the main character's hand. There is happiness in these games. Hope. Forgiveness and redemption. If this is supposed to be any bit an accurate interpretation of these games, it absolutely should end in such a joyful fashion. (Okay, maybe giving Dracula and Lisa a second honeymoon at the end was a bit much, but I get where people would want that.)

Did some items need to be addressed more? Absolutely. Alucard staking people and Hector getting sexually coerced into servitude are some pretty big topics to just wave away. (Oh, shit. That second part is even worse now with what Ellis was allegedly doing, isn't it?) I suppose I'm just glad the series didn't go full Sephiroth with Alucard. And at least Hector finally took some stand in his situation, even if it wasn't the bombastic, hateful revenge I'm used to seeing from this character in other stories.

I think the creators of this series were trying to save this show from the fate of "Game of Thrones." (To some extent, perhaps the "Voltron" re-interpretation as well.) There's so much media out there anymore that if a production team doesn't nail the ending, their creation gets wiped out of the collective consciousness. To that extent, I think the creators were successful in saving their series. Did it do damage to itself in yanking out of its construction and themes? A bit. But, in doing so, it pivoted back to being more like a proper "Castlevania" product. (And of course, by proper, I mean anything ignoring "Lords of Shadows." God, people need to stop chasing other products when developing "Castlevania" stuff and just let the series be as it is.)

I am very curious as to how much of this season was part of an original draft and how much was revised in backlash to everything that has happened. It doesn't seem like Trevor was intended to survive, but to some extent, Sypha had to. (I mean, until she has a kid, anyway. See "Lords of Shadows" series for dickery regarding that.) I'm also wondering if there was more intended for the Carmilla subplot, as much as the series was banging on about her invading locations. I'm not even sure St. Germain was intended to be a villain all along. Getting into a bitchfight with Death? Sure. Doing what he did here? That's a weird arc, dude.

If you come away from my POV with anything, it should be this: GO PLAY THE GAMES.

Do it. Do it, you ghouls. Go to the Steam store and download the "Castlevania Anniversary Collection." Boot up your PS3 or 4 or 18 or whatever and get "Symphony of the Night." Throttle Nintendo's stores until "Aria of Sorrow" or "Dawn of Sorrow" or "Harmony of Dissonance" or whatever rattles out of their moldy pockets. Find a ROM. Find an ISO. Just play a game. Especially, one of the ones made before 2010.

"Castlevania" as a game series isn't about hordes of vampires dick-waving at each other or edgy swearing or being grim and dark. Some of that stuff's there, sure. But, at its core, it's what game developers created when they looked at Universal Monster Movie creations and went "That's cool. Let's fight that!" It's a series about pushing technology in MMC chips to make rich, vibrant music. It's about flourishing artwork and layers of sprites dripping particles and gore onto players. It's sober and goofy and very pro curry.

The thing is, "Castlevania" players have their own unique connection to the series. We're the weirdos you see clapping their hands when a mutilated dinosaur shows up on screen. It's not because the monster alone is cool. It's that we've fought and struggled and bodied that thing through several floors like a goddamn "X-Men: Children of the Atom" stage. It's kicked our asses. We've kicked its ass. We've got a connection to it that you just don't get from passively watching it barf lasers through a computer monitor or TV screen. Like, you know how people go, "Well, the movie wasn't as good as the book?" It's obnoxious, sure. But, those who read the source materials have to go to the effort of constructing their own sets and people to understand what's happening. In a similar fashion, game players build up their own skill set to reach that next rung.

Maybe you don't always get a payout when you invest your resources into something. But, there is a sense of accomplishment, seeing what you can do.

There's a reason this series got an adaptation. I mean, outside of Konami's head executives wanting easy money. "Castlevania" is a fantastic video game series. Has it got a few problems? Oh yeah. Especially after outsourcing and pachislot machines became all the rage. But, there's a reason Simon and Richter Belmont are playable in "Super Smash Bros. Ultimate." There's a reason I spent a significant amount of time playing these games and writing or drawing fanworks for it. These games are wonderful. Beautiful. Difficult, but inspiring. Reasons I will still bang on about them decades years down the road.

When I get exasperated by layers of angst and edge lord content this Netflix series generated, I want you to know why. The roots of this show are good games held captive under poor management. Some people on staff know this. I wish they had more scenario and writing control. But mostly, I don't want to shit on them or their work. (Well, other than perhaps the obvious target.) I just want you to see what I love in these games.

And also to watch Crashervania. Because that's legit.

#castlevania #netflix castlevania #spoilers #tl;dr play ball or SOTN or a Sorrow game or something

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r6shippingdelivery · 4 years ago

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OTP Question Meme!

I was tagged by the wonderful @simonxriley, thanks! 💜

Tagging: @mirrorworldangel @krystlandotherstuff @painfulstitches17 @grain-crain-drain @retrodisaster @glitchky and anyone who wants to do it! Be warned that it is pretty long tho, so don’t feel obligated to do it if you don’t want to.

(art comissioned to the amazing @aonghus-the-highlander)

Timur “Glaz” Glazkov x Maxim “Kapkan” Basuda

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? None/both? Whoever is feeling more agitated at the moment, although it usually is a small outburst and not consistently yelling at the other.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Kapkan, sort of. He doesn’t threaten to leave, he just needs to leave and have some time alone in the middle of nature after a difficult argument, to think on it and put his ideas in order.

Who trashes the house? Because of an argument? Neither. Although Glaz might have trashed the house one time Kapkan got seriously injured, as in Doc wasn’t sure he’d make it through the night.

Do either of them get physical? No, never.

How often do they argue/disagree? Bickering and small disagreemenets are common, serious arguments are rare.

Who is the first to apologize? Whoever feels more guilty for how they acted, which usually is the one in the wrong (once they realise that).

SEX

Who is on top? Depends on the position, but if you’re asking who is The Top, that’s Glaz.

Who is on bottom? Look at the previous answer.

Who has the strangest desires? Kapkan thinks it’s him, but nah, he’s just a bit repressed.

Any kinks? Bondage, marking/biting, dirty talk, discipline.

Who’s dominate in bed? They like to “fight”/rough house for it, although eventually Kapkan will gleefully give up control.

Is head ever in the equation? Yes.

If so, who is better at performing it? Glaz, he has more experience.

Ever had sex in public? Sort of: in the base’s showers, and out in the woods while camping.

Who moans the most? Kapkan, he can get loud.

Who leaves the most marks? Both.

Who is the most experienced of the two? Glaz.

Do they ’fuck’ or ‘make love’? Depends on their mood.

Rough or soft? Middle ground, veering more towards rough most of the time.

How long do they usually last? Depends on the day and their stamina, but it’s not uncommon they’ll go for 2 rounds.

Is protection used? Not always.

Does it ever get boring? Nah.

Where is the strangest place where they’d had sex? At work, during training.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/ have children? Maybe, it’s not something they have considered in detail yet.

If so, how many children to they want/have? Both agree that at least they’d adopt two kids, three at most.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? Both do, even if Kapkan likes to pretend he’s just indulging Glaz.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate places? Glaz, he is a horny boy and likes to see if he can get Kapkan flustered. It’s difficult to do so, but he looks so adorable.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Both, but mostly Glaz.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? If they don’t fall asleep first, then around an hour or so?

Who gives the most kisses? Both.

What is their favorite non-sexual activity? Spending time together. They go camping pretty often, since it’s a multipurpose activity: Glaz paints the landscape, they hunt, they can be as loud as they want when having sex, etc.

Where is their favorite place to cuddle? Under the stars. The couch and bed are good too.

How often do they get time to themselves? Everyday probably? If they’re not sent on a mission, once they’re done with the training and maybe Kapkan tinkering with his gadget for a bit, they’re free to do whatever.

SLEEPING

Who snores? Both.

If both do, who snores the loudest? They’ll both say it’s the other.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay separately? They cozy up together, or more accurately, Glaz cuddles up to him and Kapkan oh so graciously lets him... although he’s the one who clings to Glaz when he tries to roll away. If the weather is really hot they’ll leave some distance between them tho.

What do they wear to bed? Just their boxers, sometimes nothing at all.

Are either of them insomniacs? Not really, although if woken up from a nightmare, Kapkan will have a hard time falling asleep again.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nope, no sleeping pills.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Yeah, they wrap their limbs around each other, mostly if one is trying to prevent the other from leaving.

Who wakes up with bed hair? Both, although whoever wears it cropped shorter at the moment will have an easier time with bed hair.

Who wakes up first? Both are early risers.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? None. Breakfast in bed? That’s not their style.

What is their favorite sleeping position? Either spooning, or one of them using the other’s chest/shoulder as a pillow.

Do they set an alarm each night? Yes, they do have to wake up for work.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? Nope.

Who has nightmares? Kapkan. Glaz only occasionally.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Neither, the one in the team with the weird and ridiculous dreams is Fuze.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Kapkan, Glaz often compares him with a cat stretching out and taking up more and more space until there’s none for Glaz.

Who makes the bed? Both, they take turns.

Any routines/rituals before bed? Kapkan likes to read for a while, psychology books mostly, while Glaz tries to distract him because he doesn’t do anything especial before bed and either wants to talk with him or tries to get handsy.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Neither.

WORK

Who is the busiest? Kapkan, aside from training, he also likes tinkering and trying to improve his gadget and traps in general, and helps train the recruits too.

Who rakes in the highest income? They seem to rank the same withing Rainbow so they probably get paid the same?

Are any of them unemployed? Nope.

Who takes the most sick days? No fucking idea.

Who is more likely to turn up late for work? Neither, they’re punctual.

Who sucks up to their boss? None, the idea of them sucking up to Harry is so out of character it’s hilarious.

What are their jobs? They're part of the Spetsnaz team within the counter-terrorism group Rainbow.

Who stresses the most? Both, but Kapkan probably a bit more.

Are they financially stable? I suppose?

HOME

Who does the washing? Kapkan, he is a bit neater than Glaz. Although he drags Glaz into washing too, he refuses to be the one always doing it.

Who takes out the trash? Whoever finds the trash full.

Who does the ironing? Both do. You gotta keep the formal uniforms crisp smooth, so why not iron too whatever other clothes need ironing.

Who does the cooking? They cook together.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? None, they’re not iditos.

Who is messier? Glaz.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? idk dude, some of these question are so fucking especific, I swear. A lot of this stuff doesn’t come up most of the time when I’m writing

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Military life has trained them to not keep throwing dirty clothes on the floor, amongst other things. The only exception is when they undress each other and fall in bed kissing and marking each other, they can’t be bothered to think about that in the heat of the moment.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither.

Who is the prankster around the house? Bandit whenever he is invited into their house.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? No fucking idea.

Who mows the lawn? They have an apartment, not a house with garden, so neither. If they want nature, they go camping, Kapkan isn’t a fan of lawn as a concept tbh.

Who answers the telephone? Both, but more often Kapkan, since Glaz tends to ignore the phone if he’s painting.

Who does the vacuuming? Kapkan, he got used to vacuuming often since he adopted Marsha, otherwise there would be cat hair everywhere.

Who does the groceries? Both, and they go together if they can.

Who takes the longest to shower? None, they keep to short and efficient showers... unless they hop together under the spray.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Glaz, he takes his sweet time trimming his beard and making sure it looks right as he wants it to be.

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? I don’t think so.

How many cars do they own? Each had their own car, so when they start livign together they technically have two cars.

Do they own their home or do they rent? They rent an apartment near the base. Neither of them is close to retiring, so they haven’t thought yet of what they’ll do after Rainbow, or in which country they’ll live then.

Do they live in the city or in the country? The country, most probably.

Do they enjoy their surroundings? For the most part. Surroundings are secondary, what matters the most is the company.

What’s their song? I hate song questions and this is no exception.

What do they do when they’re away from each other? If they’re away from each other that means one of them went on a mission, so they do their damned jobs.

Where did they first meet? When they got selected to be part of Rainbow.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Depends, Glaz is a danger if let loose on an art’s supplies store, and Kapkan impulse buys knives for his collection.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Neither.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Glaz finds it funny when the graceful hunter stumbles and trips over, while Kapkan thinks it’s hilarious when Mr. Details fails to see something in his path and trips.

Any mental issues? Yeah, both have PSTD (especially after Outbreak, all ops who were on that Operation have it, imo), Kapkan more than Glaz.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Whoever sees the spider, if it’s bothering them.

Their favorite place? Their room, or their apartment when they move in together.

Who pays the bills? Both.

Do they have any fears for their future? Both are terrified of losing the other during a mission. Them dying is something they have more or less assumed, but the other dying? Unthinkable.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? They’re not the type for fancy dinners. Surprising the other with a nice home-made dinner tho? Glaz has done that on occasion.

Who’s the tallest? Kapkan, he’s 1.80m while Glaz is 1.78m. The 2cm difference is negligible tbh.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Both, but mostly Glaz.

Who wanders around in their underwear? I don’t think either of them would be probe to walking around in their underwear.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Glaz, he sometimes sing along while painting.

What do they tease each other about? Glaz teases Kapkan about how he’s a tsundere like a stubborn cat, trying to deny he likes affection but then he practically melts when he gets some. Kapkan teases Glaz about how he looks like a baby when he shaves his beard.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Neither, although Glaz might sometimes poke a bit of fun about how Kapkan’s wardrobe seems to have only hoodies.

Who crushed first? Glaz.

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Nah.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Both, all the Spetsnaz go drinking together as a team, so the boys stumble home drunk together.

Who swears the most? Glaz, and that bit is canon if you listen to their voicelines! 😄

#rainbow 6 siege #r6s #rainbow six siege #kapkan #glaz #headcanons #one OTP to rule them all

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randomnumbers751650 · 4 years ago

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Sometimes people ask a thing like “how did it get so big?” This is almost like any meme in the internet and sometimes even whatever is in the Top 10 bestselling books of any list. Due to being a historian of economic thought, I’m study the ascension of the idea of the entrepreneur as a hero, how it happened and its consequences, both good and bad. Therefore, I couldn’t avoid Ayn Rand and Atlas Shrugged. It wasn’t a good experience and I’ll talk more about it under the cut.

I think we all know how much of a controversial person Ayn Rand was. But it worked. She’s one of the most influential writers of the 20th century whether we like it or not. Like, a lot of people say she hates the poor and minorities. It’s even a meme, like there’s a joke SCP that makes everything it comes into contact unnecessarily verbose and one of the incidents was a sticky note written “I hate poor people” that becomes a copy of Atlas Shrugged.

After reading her work, I can safely say these are traps she set up in her own work. Not only that, these traps hide the true problems of her work.

In first place, we need to consider her demographic target. That wasn’t me, if I wasn’t researching, I wouldn’t even bother reading it. Like, I remember I saw in the internet a game called “The Jihad to Destroy Barney” and someone commenting: “because 20-years old thinking they’re funny were obviously the demographic target of Barney the Dinosaur”. Rand knew what her demographic target was, after working in Hollywood for so many years.

One might think that her demographic target was people like her, but it’s wider than that. Through all her book, producers (she doesn’t use the word ‘entrepreneur’, but it’s obviously the same) are the protagonists. Dagny shows her dedication to her railway, always looking for ways to improve it, to hire the best people to work with her, to deliver the best product she can, always treating others with respect. All the producers are people full of passion for what they do. They do not just for the money, they do it to express themselves (but still want/should be paid).

Meanwhile their enemies are the government organs that want to curb them, by introducing legislation to make everything equal, like people are forbidden to be fired, prices are controlled and so on. And they are evil, they are hypocrites who don’t really believe in the altruistic values they spouse or they are too dumb to realize they’re being hypocrites. They are always men in position of power, evil bureaucrats, quisling industrialists, hypocrite union leaders (though the union leader, Fred Kinnan, interestingly is the most sympathetic of the villains, and actually gets away scot free, to the point some think he’s a Galt agent undercover).

Rand aimed for the real life entrepreneur identify with the “heroes”. All the companies have names of their founders in their titles, Taggart Terminal, d’Anconia Copper, and so on. Their enemies show their true faces by naming themselves with abstract titles, like National Union and so on. She aimed the person who ever had to deal with the Health Department, with the Labor Department, who has to fills forms and more forms and say “Wouldn’t the world be a terrible place if it wasn’t for you? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you didn’t have to do all of this? If you just had the opportunity to truly express yourself? Free from the prying eyes of government inspectors? Rejoice, because I have the answer!”

Rand answers this with the Galt’s Gulch – a utopia of freedom, where the word “give” is taboo, while leaving the outside world of looters and moochers to destroy itself. All the producers are gathered to escape the terrible collectivist world around her. Everyone has money and, since they’re all enlightened by the principles of greed and selfishness, the prices are small, even symbolic. Monopolies are good and rivals are always being taken down, and they rejoice with it, both winner and loser, because they contributed to the expansion of human spirit.

When John Galt says “I swear – by my life and my love of it – that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine”, he’s implying all men who belong to this valley. They are not ashamed of taking low jobs, because they know their true power is what they do with their minds and hands. Francisco is shown to be perfect in everything he does, makes one think he’s a Gary Stu, but it’s because, according to the book’s philosophy, if you’re a true man, anything you do you become the best. For this reason, Galt’s Gulch is quite diverse, because it has not only industrialists, but also factory workers and small businessmen who share their ideals. And not only workers, but also artists, intellectuals and others.

This is why I think the argument “this books hates poor people” might not be accurate. The low worker whom Eddie Willers meets in the beginning is actually John Galt in disguise. This I think it’s the most important part to understand why Atlas Shrugged was so influential with small businessmen when published: John Galt is where the Übermensch and the Everyman meet. “Who is John Galt?” Anyone can be John Galt – the same way anyone can be Bella Swan, anyone can be Ritsuka Fujimaru (at least before the 5th singularity), anyone can be Kirito Kirigaya – the idealized self of the entrepreneur.

Thus, one is not born a “man”, but becomes one. Dagny and Hank’s entire character development is to become “men”, to learn to love themselves more than what they create, no matter how passionate they are. This contrasts with Eddie Willers, Dagny’s right hand man, probably the most tragic character of the tale.

Eddie loved the railway just as Dagny. He’s been her friend for so long, and even developed feelings for her. But the book constantly observes that Eddy doesn’t have the capacity to lead something as important as a railway. But he does it nevertheless, dedicating all his resources and passion for the railway. But, unlike Dagny, he doesn’t learn to look for greater things. Thus, he ends the novel stuck in a railway, defeated and probably left to die.

This is controversial, so much everyone still discusses his fate. In the movie adaptation, they deviate from the novel by having the heroes making a point to rescue him from his fate. In Jennifer Burns’s biography, she mentions a letter Ayn Rand received asking about Eddie and she replies that in a collectivist society, Eddie would’ve perished, while in a free one he’d be living okay. Nevertheless, this reveals a truth about that world: not everyone will become a “man”. Eddie would never become a “man”.

Since pity is against Galt’s doctrine, Eddie cannot be pitied. He has to live under the mercy of his Galtian overlords. He has only two options: either worship the feet that trample him, expecting his breadcrumbs fall from their banquet table, or to question his place in the world, thus denying that A is A, and be trampled harder. It really doesn’t matter his kindness, his dedication, he’s not a “man”, and thus has more in common with the looters and moochers than the heroes. Thus, if Eddie ever becomes an obstacle to the productive forces, even if unintentionally, he has to be trampled.

While one might think that I’m being unfair, it should be reminded that Ayn Rand openly advocated the people who were killing Natives during the American expansion to the West were doing nothing wrong. The Natives were actually privileged for being trampled by the productive forces, thus creating the great nation. The same argument can be made for the colonized people and even to the “essential workers” of this pandemic – since apparently people who take this book seriously are one of the most resistant forces to lockdowns and mask mandates, you can guess why.

And this is why Rand hated the environmental movement, because it puts an obstacle to the productive process. Nature can only react with deaf indifference to Galt’s speech. For Rand, this is unforgivable. Would it be surprising if oil tycoons were fans of Rand’s work?

In the end, the producers execute their revenge against the world that rejected them. Galt’s speech caused a lot of disturbance and the last chapters deal with its consequences, with more villains being evil for no reason and more showing how awesome their heroes are. Galt becomes more and more like Jesus, even with a gnostic Judas in Dagny helping him. In fact, in the funniest part of the book, where it comes THIS close from being self-aware, he says to his tormenters, when they asked to cooperate with him: “It took me three hours on the radio to tell me why”. It gave me angry laughter.

In the end of the day, what matters? This is a work of fiction, where caricatures of men and women fight each other. The entrepreneurial process works nothing like described in the book. It takes a naïve view of selfishness, upon saying that if everyone was selfish the world would be a better place, when in reality, if you expect selfishness, it’s what you’ll get.

It’s never explained how they invented their inventions, only that they did it and it’s awesome. The One-Man Industrial Revolution trope is one that I loathe a lot, because it misrepresents the innovation process. It requires so many factors, including government funding – scratch that, it REQUIRES government funding because technologies like touch-screen used to be so risky that no private company would take seriously and government can fund because it doesn’t go bankrupt the same way. Even if we take it as a metaphor, it doesn’t work when you stop to think.

Rand belongs to the same class of writers as Stephenie Meyer and Christian Weston Chandler. But she wanted to influence the world, she wanted it to be more than entertainement, much more. Thanks to her publishing network and appeal to real problems, she did it. This is why the problems of her work require critique. And I hope anyone reading this try to understand better what “relatability” means, this is what relatability can do. Stop trying to look for relatability everywhere, let it just come naturally and if it doesn’t come enjoy the story!

#politics #i'm not revising this #i hope i don't have to think about this book #for a minimal time #it shows correcting a wrong interpretation about a harmful idea #can explain how worse the actual idea is

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krolock-in-the-snowlock · 4 years ago

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My Full Commentary on Broadway’s Dance of the Vampires

Turns out there’s so much that this is going to have to be split into two posts! These are my full, unedited, out-of-context ramblings as I watched the production, so prepare for it to be all over the place and chaotic! I also did a slightly shorter review of sorts here!

But here we go... Act 1!

• Huh. This is not Alfred in the snow

• Why are there three children in the forest

• This song is boring. To be fair their voices are nice but I’m still bored. This feels like Disney ugh

• God these jokes are awful and I can’t tell if they’re funny or not

• Whyyyyy is there a jokes every 5 seconds and WHAT ARE THEY DOING IN THE FOREST

• Oh my god why are they getting high on mushrooms

• wAIT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE SARAH HOLY SHIT

• WHY IS SHE WITH PEOPLE ARE THEY HER SIBLINGS

• WHY IS SHE OUTSIDE

• I feel like they’re foreshadowing Krolock’s arrival

• I want to get this over with already and see Krolock but I don’t want to see Crawford butcher his poor character

• What is going on why are they dancing, is this Carpe Noctem already

• Why are they just carrying them around

• The lights are nice but that’s about as far as I can compliment this

• The dancers (I’m guessing vampires even though I swear I heard a wolf howl) look like they just got off of Cats and either think they’re still in Cats but just wandered onto the wrong stage or just never recovered from being cats for so long and can tragically no longer move like normal humans (or vampires, whatever)

• The rock music is pretty cool I’ll give them that

• But I still don’t see where they’re going with this

• OH SHIT

• WHY DID A COFFIN LITERALLY RISE OUT OF THE GROUND

• IT’S GONNA BE KROLOCK ISN’T IT

• WHYYY

• God has left the building what the fuc-

• It sounds like he’s about to start a really sad rave

• Is that Krolock’s voice oh god please no

• Also THEY ARE NOT IN A BUILDING THEY ARE IN A FOREST

• I get that Krolock breaks the fourth wall in Die Unstillbare Gier but that is no excuse for this aAaAa

• I’m both scared and morbidly excited to unpause the video

• This feels on the same level of what kind of acid trip hallucination parallel universe have I landed in as seeing the Cats film in the cinema in that I’m both scaredly laughing and like fuck it what have I got to lose I’m here for the ride no matter what the next two hours may throw at me

• Oh god here I go

• Why are they applauding this is horrifying

• Is that a bloody top hat jesus christ

• Also I’m sorry but what kind of coffin is that big

• NO

• NONONONO

• I CAN’T THIS IS HORRIBLE

• COUNT GIOVANNI

• WHAT IS THAT VOICE

• Sarah sounded like Giofuckingvanni impersonating Sarah

• Did he just say you are a person

• And how old are you??? Where is the mystery?? Why does he sound like an old grandpa talking to the girl behind the checkout at the supermarket

• Ok I went back to check and no he said you are perfect and tbh that’s not much better she isn’t a product Giovanni

• Like yeah Krolock would probably be thinking that but he would never say it so plainly

• 18 in three days oh my god is her birthday on halloween

• Why does she talk like a 6 year old

• Oh no I’m sorry not just halloween but the total eclipse of the moon

• Gotta get the phrase total eclipse in there early

• At midnight huh sarah??? You were born at midnight???? And you care about that at 18-in-3-days??

• Issa too good excUSE ME?

• He sounds like a looney tunes character

• Is he talking to the audience

• Is this actually deadpool in disguise with all the fourth wall breaking because please that would be so much better than this trainwreck

• And Deadpool would never do this to poor TdV

• And your name, no don’t tell me… Sarah he’s not a cheap magician ugh (or tbh maybe Giovanni is)

• And now the einladung zum ball/tanzsaal music is playing… what is going to happen here

• I was gonna say finally something familiar but nope these lyrics are so wrong

• I know they can’t be exactly the same but they could have at least kept the meaning similar

• Like, what the hell is an original sin

• I was gonna roast the lyrics some more but I’m gonna be honest I’m not sure what he’s saying

• Endless researching? Ambronsius who? Awful word choice and I’m hating the repeated original sin thing he’s got going on

• Sei bereit????? So they’re keeping the German there???? Why??? Be prepared is the same number of syllables???

• Also what are they doing?? Merging einladung zum ball with gott ist tot or totale finsternis or what??

• Oh they said turn around… so not the literal translation, just the Bonnie Tyler lyrics, huh? That doesn’t even make sense. He’s in front of her already

• I’m sorry, since she’s been born??

• I’m mad that his voice is good because he could have performed in a faithful adaption and been a great Krolock but no he had to ruin everything and now we won’t get a good english version thanks michael

• It’s time to feed? Really?

• Oh so we are doing totale finsternis already

• We’re barely 11 minutes in and they’ve already used up two of the best songs in the musical?

• Also if Sarah and Krolock meet so early on, what’s gonna take up the first act? What’s gonna take the place of totale finsternis at act 2?

• The use of total eclipse of the heart definitely feels like an intentional joke here rather than just jim recycling his old stuff, and honestly it kind of works like that (though that’s only because this whole thing so far seems like one big parody)

• But if they don’t do the harmonies I’m gonna be so mad

• Or maybe I should just consider it a blessing tbh

• Nobody could ever beat drew and diana

• You’re so cool just because that’s what I think when I see Krolock that doesn’t mean that fits Sarah’s personality or what Krolock is supposed to be achieving (also Giovanni is most certainly Not Cool)

• Where I’ve paused it at 12:12 it looks like a meme. Crawford looks like he regrets everything and can I just say michael so does everybody else

• He looks like a potato or a rock or that neutral nicolas cage face that people put on the sequin cushion

• I hate that I kind of laughed at ‘and does he love me?’ ‘…Sarah.’

• She looks like a barbie doll

• Is he biting her already??

• Oh was he licking her neck?

• Why… don’t you celebrate… your birthday… at my castle? Oh my god

• This sounds like a poorly written krolock/reader wattpad fanfic

• Which is actually quite accurate

• He will return with the tails??

• He can’t gift her the sponge if the significance of the sponge hasn’t already been establisheddd

• It feel like lol aren’t i so random rawr xd

• Though giovanni would highkey be like that on myspace

• Also just saying, the sponge krolock gives to her in tdv is much more impressive than that normal sized sponge, up ur game giovanni

• And that’s just it????? He says ciao bella like a creepy mario then sinks into the ground again???

• How dare they use those nice choral harmonies for that scene

• Ah, 14:17 and I should go to bed but I sure don’t look forward to the garlic that I hear coming up

Day 2: Garlic

• And we’re back for round 2!

• So far garlic seems to have a similar vibe to the original, probably because the original was pretty dumb

• Yeah pretty much the same as the original

• But if there’s no frozen alfred and professor yet, what’s even going on?

• And that’s over

• Oh so they’re just gonna arrive like that, no drama or anything?

• Ew why does alfred sound like that? He might as well be gaston

• Oh so they’re mentioning Krolock by name??? When they’re supposed to be pretending he doesn’t exist?

• Oh so that was a mistake by an idiot, I see. Was this in the original?

• The whole smelling like feet thing is kind of funny, I hate to admit it. It’s just a shame it doesn’t fit Alfred’s character

• All in all, ignoring the fact that alfred is all wrong and not frozen, this scene is going pretty well. The jokes are quite good

• Huh who is this supposed to be??

• Oh my gOD IT’S GIOVANNI

• AND HIS STUPID ISSA TOO GOOD

• I really hate that I kind of enjoyed that reveal on some level

• But why????

• Where is koukol

• That silk is not going to be enough for sarah’s ballgown, I hate to break it to you Giovanni

• All of these modern phrases like I leave the door open and put it on my tab just don’t fit

• At this point I’ve decided to stop trying to take Giovanni seriouslg. This is a parody in my eyes

• Ah we’re at logic round 1 huh?

• It’s a shame the only bits so far that they’ve kept fairly accurate are the parts I never liked as much

• Oh my god is giovanni visiting the house as a bat???

• I’m not entirely certain who this other guy is… chagal?

• Frickin idiots really giovanni?

• Oh so koukol doesn’t even exist???

• Is his name morris??

• This is weird

• Ah finally sarah is in the bath

• But it’s in her room???

• Did she call alfred tasty?? You’re not a vampire yet sarah

• They’re both way too outgoing and confident ugh it’s wrong

• Where’s all the cute awkward clumsiness and interactions?

• Ok so alfred’s diary stuff is funny but it’s not alfred. Like, he was probably thinking some of this stuff but he wouldn’t say it, especially not like that

• Well chagal is less sexist and abusive here which is nice but ultimately removes sarah’s motivations

• A blood transfusion??

• I don’t even know what to say, these jokes are kinda gross

• Orange and black crepe paper? A pumpkin?? The prophecy thing? This is just stupid

• The pumpkin probably would scare giovanni away though

Sarah and Alfred’s duet doesn’t work when they’re both in THE SAME ROOM

• This is boring ugh they just met but not even in the way they did originally

• Where’s krolock to invite her to the ball? Oh wait, they already met, and it’s giovanni

• Dammit I love the einladung zum ball scene

• Did they even check blood types?? Oh wait it’s 18whatever supposedly

• Ew they’re supposed to bond over sponges not journals

• Oh here’s chagal’s gross song. Marginally less gross in this context to be fair but still

• Ha no one will abuse you except for you huh chagal

• Oh bye I guess chagal

• NO THAT BAT IS AWFUL OH MY GOD

• WHY DID THEY DO THIS

• GIOVANNI NO

• WHAT IS HE SINGING

• This is horrible

• Where’s the drama, the impressive teleportation, the cape swishing, the mystery, the music?

• Issa me! He might have just as well gone and said Itsa me, Mario!

• This is a crime

• He genuinely thinks she’s a princess nOOOOOO

• Krolock would never

• But I guess giovanni is just Like That

• Krolock wouldn’t complain about the smell, he would pull a face but that would be it

• The joke about the mirrors..? Is giovanni really that stupid or is he self aware and is joking with the audience?

• And the way he just stands there facing the audience in silence as they laugh… he’s got to be self aware

• Also this whole thing is so stupid in its attempts to be funny that I bet we won’t even get die unstillbare gier because giovanni could never pull off anything so genuine or serious (nor could any of the others though)

• Oh god are they semi doing einladung zum ball with the never enough stuff? But it’s not even dramatic or powerful enough ughhh

• Nooooo they made it sound all sappy and romantic when it’s supposed to be dark and commanding and… I don’t even have the words to describe it but no this is awful

• Also the lyrics feel so much more shallow than the original… and the original was so full of what was probably too many syllables that this just feels empty and drawn out

• Oh I’ve got it! Giovanni is like trying to convince her kindly like, oh sarah, that would never be enough for you, darling whereas krolock is stating a powerful fact, he’s like that would never be enough. Krolock knows that she knows and is just kind of showing her that he understands her and she should join him.

• Also michael if you sing the long note at the end, it needs to be meaningful, powerful, entrancing, inviting, exciting, dark, strong. You can’t just do a weedy weak version with no power and no meaning or purpose to the scene

• Why is mars rising

• Oh is it supposed to be a blood moon I bet it is

• This is new…

• The lyrics are all hey sarah, you can do whatever cool stuff you want, the dark side is fun haha

• There’s no story, no appeal to her character development or deeper motivations

• The staging is boring. They’re just stood there. Like two pigeons aimlessly squawking at each other, only one pigeon has decided it won’t shut up

• Giovanni’s makeup and hair are all wrong too

• Dear god only 45 minutes in

• Oh so chagal is frozen and bitten at the very least

• Oh magda and mrs chagal are both singing

• The harmonies are nice, I’ll give them that

• Ah here he goes

• Ew why is he a dog

• Oh mrs krolock is back

• Ooh manipulative he lies

• Ew alfred no kissing without asking first

• And here’s draussen ist freiheit

• Oh but it’s not about freedom, it’s bravery instead

• Why has it got a a dance beat now

• Oh no giovanni’s voice is ruining everything again

• Every time I think the music is actually alright, giovanni’s weaselly voice ruins everything

• Ah finally the end of act 1, though lesss cool when not on a house

• At only 1 hour and 4 minutes, we’ve done it. Halfway through. This is where things should start getting good but of course that probably won’t happen.

• Wait we didn’t even get gott ist tot

• Oh no here it is

• Sounds like they’re keeping it the same

• Ok michael you’re not doing too badly

• *cough* But hey that’s probably because you’re sticking to the source material *cough*

• Ah ok now it’s the end of act 1 at 1 hour, 6 minutes and 30 seconds.

• And what an hour, 6 minutes and 30 seconds they’ve been

• So, before we move on, a quick summary:

• The better parts are the parts where they actually stick to the source material

• Giovanni is the polar opposite of Krolock and therefore cannot even be called Krolock

• The jokes are awful but sometimes funny

• I’m dreading act 2

• Dear god we haven’t even seen herbert yet

• And if sarah is already at the castle, is totale finsternis even going to happen again?

• I guess we’ll find out whether we want to or not in…

Part 2!

#tanz der vampire #dance of the vampires #I am so sorry #this is such a mess

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silvanable · 4 years ago

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Match-Up : Ikemen Vampire

@i-sleep-like-napoleon

Hello there dearie! I hope that life has been treating you well and that you've had a good day! 🥰🥰 Can i request a matchup with one of the ikemen vampire boys??

I'm a female on the libra-scorpio cusp and a Slytherin, I used to be an ENFP but now I'm an INFP

Appearance-wise, I'm 5'2, i've brown eyes and caramel brown hair. I'm also quite tanned from being out in the sun all the time.

Personality-wise:

- I really love food, especially sweets (dark chocolate is bae)

- I really hate horror movies (I'm usually pretty brave, but horror movies just get to me so much ergh, the jump scares are deffo a no no) but i love chick flicks and adventure flims

- I'm also a hopeless romantic, which is why even little romantic gestures can make my heart flutter

- I really love shooting alot (I'm part of the air rifle club in school).

- I used to be pretty athletic, I still am, but to a lesser extend now, because i injured my left knee playing volleyball in the past. It's on it's road to recovery, but it still hurts quite badly when i overexert myself.

- I can be really enthusiastic about stuff I'm really interested in, such as history (especially world war history), sciences and anime (I'm a closet nerd hehe) .

- I can be really ambitious and competitive, especially for my grades as i'm in a pretty good school so everyone is smart too. This drive to be better than the rest of peers always leaves me really tired and stressed out.

- I do try to not be so competitive nowsadays, but sometimes it still just happens.

- I'm quite an open book to all my close friends and i also tend to be really possessive and stubborn at times.

- I can be really awkward around people i don't click with, but around people i click with, i can be pretty wild and will be able to hold conversations with.

- I tend to procrastinate a lot, and people say i look intimidating but i don't feel like I'm intimidating.

- I can be really sensitive to other's emotions and i tend to put others before me.

- My love languages are physical touch and quality time

- I can't stand people who are attention seekers or just aim to be public nuisances as i feel that they're just really irritating and it gets on my nerves as i have quite a few of these types of people in my class and it really does make learning less condusive.

- I listen to a lot of different genres of music, but i especially love j-pop, classics and pop.

- I can really insecure at times, because i always feel that every other girl out there is better than me and i'm just trash :(

- I like dressing up and putting on makeup, but i do act like a tomboy most of the time (ie. I hate skirts).

- I also love playing the piano and singing as well, even though i'm not that good at it :D

- People tell me that I'm very curious and persistent, constantly pushing until i get answers, but i do know my limits.

- I'm also very passionate about things I love, and i would do anything to protect people that i care and love.

- I'm also very affectionate and supportive towards my close friends and people i love. - I do have trust issues and I often feel like i do not deserve love and that I hate people who betray my trust.

- I'm ok with pda, but not anything overly affectionate, like hand-holding and kissing is ok, but not making out 😳😖

- I also tend to be pretty forgettful, and i'll not eat for hours to get my work on hand done (whoop pretty unhealthy but :0)

- I'm also really sarcastic when i want to be, and i can't hold a poker face to save my life (i swear i always start laughing like 2 s⅛econds in)

- My sense of humour is kind of twisted at times but i really love memes and i tend to crack inappropriate jokes sometimes

- I've been told that i come across as really flirty to some guys but it's because i can be really touchy feely to my friends

- I'm also quick to anger, especially if i have a bad day, i hate people who nag and i hate people who put down others

- I'm kind of touch-starved, so i really like hugs and cuddles, but I'm also ticklish so my friends tend to tickle me when hugging me

- I also love reading and writing, and sometimes i would get stuck in my own fantasy world when i shouldn't 😂😂

- I'm also a drama queen around my friends, I dont have a lot of them in real life because of some rumours that others spread, so i only have a close circle of friends i really treasure and would do anything for them

- I also tend to bottle up all my anger and negative thoughts, and would sometimes like explode on others even though I don't mean to

- I love artic foxes and cats, dogs are too energetic for me 😅

- I'm also a sneaker hoarder and I love collecting and wearing sneakers heh

I hope that's enough infomation (hehe i think i gave too much 😅) and i hope to hear from you soon!! 😚😚

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

this is most certainly not too much information. i always appreciate lots of things to work with, makes my job easier and things more accurate, so i appreciate all of this!

i apologize for taking so long to get this back to you and i hope the wait was worth it!

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

↪ GUIDELINES

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

ー COMTE DE SAINT GERMAIN

i have to say with everything about yourself, you have so much knowledge and passion in so many different things the comte would be smitten by you without question.

despite being so small, your intimidating aura everyone happened to believe.

it was probably your temper that really set things in with your small but dangerous stature, everyone learned in the mansion very quickly that you were quite a firecracker.

comte was possibly one the first ones to discover you were not as scary as you were at first glance.

he also discovered the interesting fact that while you do not like skirts, you seem to still enjoy some dresses and were a fan of make up.

he made a note about that to tuck away in his mind, after all as his guest he wanted you to be as comfortable as possible here.

comte would be the one to explain things about the mansion to you, obviously because it was his, but also likely because you sought him out for answers.

you have that curiosity and persistence to ask the questions after finding out about the vampires in the mansion, the comte returned whatever question you might have with as much honesty as he could.

the more the comte would learn about you the more he would want to know more, you sparked a curiosity in him.

your passions are especially intriguing to him, he has visited many places and even times, but he enjoys hearing from you what you know and learn from your time about sciences and history.

your knowledge on world war history is especially intriguing to him. while the events are awful but you seem to light up when sharing what you know.

it was a bit of a shock to find out your skill as a shooter, not that it was a bad thing, just another intriguing hidden talent.

something he adores about you is your love of music.

on occasions you are in the music room, he has to stand and listen as you play the piano and sing.

he absolutely adores your voice.

as the relationship between you progresses he learns that not only do you struggle to keep a straight face but happen to be very transparent with your feelings.

he does not consider this honesty a bad thing but something quite admiral.

he has learned to pick up on the subtle hints of your feelings and knows how to try and lift your spirits.

your love of dark chocolate and food definitely comes into play when he wants to see a smile on your lips again.

not saying he would abuse the knowledge of you being ticklish but every now and then you can expect a few quick kisses against your neck, just a little tickle is all.

absolutely believe this man will spare no expense on you.

he wants you happy and at your best.

your minor injury from your athleticism would have him checking with you every now and then to make sure you are not pushing yourself ( he knows how ambitious and driven you can get! ).

even the slightest mention of you feeling tired or aching would have him prepare a long hot back for you to ease your aching muscles and hurt knee.

he would absolutely try and get you to rest, maybe read, and prop your injured leg with pillows.

i see an ideal date between you two more of you both spending time with each other than going out and doing much.

it’s that precious time with each other that you both real cherish as you cuddle up to one another.

the comte lives to feel you in his arms and have you rest your head against his chest while he runs his fingers through your hair.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

#Match-Up #ikemen series #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #comte de saint germain #ikemen vampire comte

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dasozelotvonnebenan · 4 years ago

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— OC QUESTIONS

everything for lorna so a lot of stuff

BASICS

1. What’s their full name?

Lorna Astriddottir.

2. What does their name mean? Why were they named that?

Her name doesn’t mean anything special. Just Lorna the daughter of Astrid. Regular norn stuff.

3. Do they have any nicknames?

Lorna von Kodash when she wants to sound a little more epic. She made that name up when she was a kid and didn’t even know where or what Kodash was. She read it somewhere and thought “well that sounds cool”

4. How old are they?

28 or so

5. When’s their birthday?

somewhere in winter, close after wintersday. She says she gets less presents because of that

6.What’s their zodiac sign/element/birthstone/etc.? Do they believe that holds any significance?

I don’t know much about that, so I’m gonna extend that to her and say she doesn’t really think about it.

7. What’s their species/subspecies? Do they have any special/magical abilities?

She’s a Norn, coming from a long line of Owl shamans. She thinks that is why she can’t transform, but its a little more complicated.

8. What “class” do they belong to (for fantasy characters)? If none, what weapon do they favor?

She’s a necromancer, mostly fighting with a big ass greatsword. And when I say bigass I mean it. The sword as a whole is about as tall as she is, so the blade is about 3 m long.

APPEARANCE

1. What do they look like?

Note how big that sword is? Lorna is 3 and a half metres tall (that’s 11′5′’). I hc norn to be taller than they are in game so they are a little more like giants so she isn’t astronomically taller than everyone but she is still very tall for a norn. She’s also buff as hell. She will stomp you and spit in your eyeeeeee.

have a screen

2. Do they have a face claim?

no. though I think her face ingame is pretty accurate

3. What’s their style like? Clothes, hair, makeup?

She makes a point of casually wearing plate armor to show how strong she is. The rest of the time she wears her robes from the necromancy academy. Her hair is most often braided back, though she changes the pattern often. Makeup wise... excentric and playing off her tatoos.

4. How do they carry themselves? What’s their default expression?

Lorna knows she is intimidating and she revels in the feeling. She’ll stand to her tallest, look expressionless into your eyes and watch you melt into a scared puddle under her gaze.

With friends she is a lot more relaxed though and actually laughs a lot. She still doesn’t smile much though.

5. Do they have any physical ailments or disabilities?

She sometimes accidentally turnes swearing into harmfull magic, but that’s mostly under controll now.

PERSONALITY

1.What’s their alignment?

Chaotic Good

2. Which one of the 16 Personality Types do they fit into?

No clue about those

3. What are their hobbies and interests? Do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)?

She does enjoy hunting, usually with daggers becaues if she uses her swords it’s an unfair fight for the boar. She plays DnD with her cousins when she is staying with them and is an excellent kegbrawl player. She does read sometimes, mostly bad romance novels. The more predictable the better.

4. What are they bad at?

Cooking that is more complicated that holding something over fire. She has in her life not once produced a meal that was properly seasoned and is not allowed near the salt box.

5. What kind of things do they dislike/hate?

Jokes about her height.

6. Do they have any vices/addictions/mental illnesses?

nope

7. What are their goals and motivations?

She wants to get into complete controll of her magic swearing, but other than that she doesn’t have any big goals in life.

8. What are their manners like? Any habits?

Theoretically she knows how to act well mannered. However she elects to be obnoxious because she knows people are too afraid to tell her off.

9. What are they most afraid of?

Being alone. As much as she plays the untouchable loner she values her friends greatly.

BACKGROUND

1. Where were they born? What was their childhood like?

Lorna was born in Hoelbrak, where her parents lived most of year. Her parents died when she was very little though, and she was raised by her uncles. She spent a lot of time with the Akis and Dak’s sisters.

2. What’s their family like?

Her parents were owl devotees, by tradition from her mothers side, and her father kind of picked it up because of her mother. They were very caring until they died. Her aunts and uncles are a wild bunch. The Akis are sibling grade cousins and obviously very nice people to be around.

3. What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold?

She’s a Scientica at the Thule Academy of Thanatology (My dad’s necromancer school rp guild) which means she is in the third semester.

In the Family Kegbrawl Team she plays as a brawler and has 14 year streak in getting the highest points for a single player.

4. How do they fit into their “story”?

Most of her personality developed through and around the academy rp. Her magic swearing for example was introduced as a reason why she would want to go there in the first place. Now that the guild isn’t active anymore she is part of my wholesome group of Akis and friends for when I want to think about happy people being happy.

5. Where do they currently live? What’s their place like?

Lorna doesn’t have a place of her own. She mostly stays with the Akis in their homestead or stays at the hunters lodge in queensdale for the school year.

6. How do they eventually die?

no plan yet

RELATIONSHIPS

1. Do they have any friends? Would they consider anyone to be their best friend?

The Akis are definitely not only family but also friends, and she is friends with a few of her classmates. You could count Era and Cap but they are more friends of friends to her.

2. What’s their friend group like? What role do they play in it?

3. What’s their love life like? (See also: ship question meme.) Do they have any kids?

no significant other, no kids.

4. Who do they look up to? Who do they trust?

Her Jotun historian great uncle who for most of her life was the coolest person she ever met, and if she hadn’t met Knut Whitebear one time.

5. Who do they hate? Do they have any enemies?

I don’t think Lorna hates any specific person, but she has a deep and powerful hatred for the svarnir because of her parents.

6. Do they have any pets?

no pets

7. Are they good with kids? Animals?

Lorna is okay with kids, others admire her for how much she can keep up with the energetic little ones without getting tired. She doesn’t particualarly enjoy it but she just can’t say no when they want to play.

With animals sually yes, though she doesn’t like animals that are close to her size or even bigger than her. She isn’t used to it finds it intimidating.

FUN FACTS

1. Which tropes do they fit? Which archetypes?

She’s the Loner that isn’t actually alone just plays that mysterious aura.

2. Do they play any instruments? Sports?

She can play drums :D And yeah as said above she is a good kegbrawl player.

3. What are some items they always carry?

She has a chak claw that is made to be a continer for life force, so that she doesn’t actively hold onto some all the time. It was the first thing she had to craft in the academy. She also carries around a small owl feather in a locket for good luck.

4. Do they collect anything?

The only thing you could say she collects are insults. She knows quite a lot of those.

5. What position do they sleep in?

Curled up because most beds are too small for her. The guest bed at the Akis’ homestead is theoretically big enough for her, but she is so used curling by now she never uses the full length.

6. Which emoji would they use the most?

😈

7. What languages do they speak?

Common, the Norns’ own language (with a pronounciation/word selection that sounds old), a bit of jotunn.

8. What’s their favorite expletive?

(I’m gonna lift this one straight from myself because it kinda fits and Lorna is a bit self inserty anyways) most used is something simple. Fuck and shit in comparable amounts. Her favourite though is “blood and ash!” (which may or may not be the expletive of choice in the wheel of time)

9. What’s their favorite candle scent?

honey

10. What songs remind you of them?

Can’t come up with one right now, but I’ve never been big on the connecting ocs with music thing.

11. Which animal would you say represents them?

You know how cats roam around alone but actually are group animals that raise their kittens together and stuff? That’s lorna.

12. What stereotypical high school clique would they fit into?

She’d be with the emos for sure.

13. What would their favorite ride at an amusement park be?

Haunted House

14. Do they believe in aliens? Ghosts? Reincarnation or something else?

Aliens and Ghosts are both a thing in tyria. I don’t know of any instance of reincarnation but our collection of immortals and sentient zombies makes up for that. So yeah she believes in those.

As for like tyrian cryptids or unprecedented and absurd supernatural happenings she isn’t big on those.

15. Do they follow any religions/gods? Do they celebrate holidays?

She’s a norn and does the norn things.

16. Which Deadly Sin do they most correspond to? Which Heavenly Virtue?

Wroth and Diligence

17. If you had to choose one tarot card to represent them, which would it be?

hmm the hermit would be the obvious one but because she doesn’t actually want to be alone I think the Stars fits even better.

#Lorna Astriddottir

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hermannsthumb · 5 years ago

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Your writing is amazing!! I’ve been super homesick recently so if you’re still taking fall prompts would you consider doing one where after PR they get to go back to the northeast and Newt gets to have a proper fall for the first time in years. (Not a lot of hay rides and pumpkin patches in Hong Kong) THANK YOU!!!

Anonymous said: Hellomst :) Can I please request 28 and 29 (with possibly some 30 thrown in if you can manage it) for the Autumn Fic Meme you reblogged? (For Newmann ofc :) ) We don't get cold weather over here(currently it's 90 with 82% humidity....) so I gotta live that fall life vicariously

from autumn fic meme here: 28. flannel shirt + 29. hiking (and unofficially: bedsharing and huddling for warmth eyes emoji)

& of course @problemwithtrouble!!! prefacing this by saying: @k-sci-janitor and i did a little collab fic with basically this plot back in march, newt and hermann taking a road trip around new england to look at the changing leaves, so if you want a LONG version of this idea feel free to check that out here

--------------------

“Smell that,” Newt says. “Do you smell it?”

"Smell what?” Hermann says.

Newt puts his hands on his hips and takes a long whiff--of the fresh mountain air, of the dying leaves, of plain and simple dirt--and smiles. “Nature, dude. Fall. Fucking fantastic.”

Hermann, meanwhile, wrinkles his nose and takes special care to tuck it beneath his scarf, then takes special care to tuck that into the flannel he borrowed off Newt. He’s been whining about his allergies since they set out this morning and whining about being cold even longer. “Decay,” he says, voice muffled. “Mold. Death.”

“Pretty leaves,” Newt counters.

Hermann shuts up while Newt helps him over a particularly large root and around a felled tree, but the second Newt’s hand slips away from his arm and he’s left to fend for himself once more, it’s back to complaining. “When’s the trail meant to end, anyway?” he says, breath rising up in small white puffs. “I’m starved.”

“I told you to pack a lunch,” Newt says, because he did, about fifty times. (I’ve just eaten breakfast, Hermann said with a little sniff. I’ll be fine.) “I told you you’d get hungry.”

“I didn’t realize we’d be out all day!” Hermann snaps.

It’s only been an hour. They left for their hike at eleven sharp on the easiest trail possible (no incline, a nice, easy, flat loop around the park lake, beginning and ending right by their rented cabin), and they’re already halfway finished. They can’t have more than another hour ahead of them. Hermann’s managed much longer under much worse conditions willingly, and it’s not as if he didn’t have the choice to let Newt go alone. He’s the one that insisted on coming. Still--the more well-fed Hermann is, the less likely it is he’ll annoy the shit out of Newt for that hour and the hours following when they get home. (Newt can already picture Hermann hovering over his shoulder and making snide remarks while Newt tries to cook dinner.)

He fishes an apple from his backpack and tosses it over; Hermann catches it. “Here, just take mine. I made a sandwich too.” He waves his reusable sandwich box. “You want it?”

“What sort of sandwich?” Hermann says, narrowing his eyes.

“Fluff and Nutella,” Newt says.

Hermann makes a face. “The apple is satisfactory.”

“It must be hard to have no taste,” Newt says, and digs into the sandwich himself.

Hermann stops complaining after that, and Newt is left--in peace--to enjoy the scenery and the simple knowledge of it being autumn. He hasn’t had a proper autumn in years. Not since MIT. Maybe not even since before the kaiju. He still decorated the lab for Halloween every year and donned dumb costumes, of course, tracked down as much artificial pumpkin-flavored junk he could find, but it just wasn’t the same. No hay rides. No pumpkin patches. No changing leaves anywhere within decent distance. He explained as much to Hermann when he talked him into this little excursion in the first place: they deserve a good nostalgia-fueled autumn, and together, at that.

Last week, he took Hermann on a hay ride to a pumpkin patch, and they carved pumpkins for their tiny front stoop on the floor of their equally tiny kitchen. (Hermann claimed he’d never done it before, but his design kicked Newt’s design’s ass by about one thousand percent.) The week before that, he sat Hermann down for a good old-fashioned horror movie marathon and threw popcorn at him each time he tried to critique the logic or explain how the science really wasn’t all that accurate. This week, he’s tossed a disgusting amount of his PPDC savings at a log cabin rental in the middle of scenic, autumnal nowhere and only managed to talk Hermann into accompanying him under very select conditions: one, Newt would foot the entire bill, two, Hermann could have the big bed, and three, he’d swear to leave Hermann alone for at least an hour every day to read or knit or brood or whatever the fuck it is Hermann does in his kaiju-free time these days.

Newt agreed to the conditions. Mostly. Half an hour seems more than enough time for Hermann to chill alone, is all.

“Look,” he says. He stops and points through a break in the trees, where the mountainside is newly visible on the horizon: the treetops form a swaying, vibrant blanket of red-orange-yellow that seems to stretch on forever. It’s beautiful. Newt whips out his phone and snaps a quick photo of Hermann framed against it and privately considers having it framed.

"’S just a load of trees,” Hermann grumbles, but Newt catches the ghost of a smile on his face as he turns away.

Dinner is an uninteresting affair of canned clam chowder Newt heats up over the shitty electric stove with no small amount of difficulty. Only one burner is working, and it seems to have doubled in inefficiency since last night. “I’m starting to think we should’ve just gone into town for dinner,” he calls to Hermann from the kitchen; Hermann looks up from his crossword puzzle, eyes owlish behind his glasses, cheeks rosy from the fire he’s nestled himself in front of. He’s still in Newt’s flannel. “Gotten Chinese or something.” He pokes at a lump of clam with the end of a warped plastic stirring spoon. “Ugh.”

“It’s soup,” Hermann says. He bustles in to shove Newt aside and deal with it himself. “How hard can it possibly be?”

“Don’t push me--”

“I’m not pushing, you moron, I’m--”

“It’s the fucking stove,” Newt says. “It’s, like, eighty years old. It’s--”

“Then use a different burner--”

They get the chowder heated up eventually. Hermann takes more than his fair share of both it and the sleeve of saltines Newt cracks open, and when he’s finished, feigns sleep back by the fire so he doesn’t have to help Newt with the dishes. “You’re making breakfast tomorrow,” Newt says, kicking the foot of Hermann’s rocking chair.

Hermann doesn’t even crack an eye when he tries to trip Newt with the end of his cane. Jerk.

After he gets dinner cleaned up, Newt pulls a blanket over his lap and curls up comfortably in the second rocking chair at Hermann’s side. He’s contemplating getting up and finding his stash of s’more stuff for dinner round two (which would be a much more satisfying dinner) when Hermann startles him by patting his hand. “Thank you for cooking,” Hermann says, stiffly and awkwardly, while Newt blinks. “I...appreciate it.”

“Oh,” Newt says. Lately, Hermann’s been working on communicating his emotions better in methods that don’t involve just shouting at Newt. This is probably part of it. Yesterday, he clapped Newt’s shoulder just as stiffly in thanks for driving them here. “No problem.” Newt smiles.

“Or,” Hermann says. “Your attempts at making us dinner, I should say.”

“Ah,” Newt says. Yeah, that makes more sense.

“Seeing as I had to step in--”

“I get it,” Newt says. “Thanks, Hermann.”

He gets another rare Gottliebian smile, though this one seems slightly more amused than the last, and Hermann pats his hand again before pulling away. “What do you have in mind for tomorrow afternoon?” he says. He slips his glasses back on and resumes his puzzle. “The old quarry? A drive into town?”

Newt saw a signpost for the abandoned quarry when they were driving up to their cabin yesterday. It’s only a ten minute hike away. He doubts there’s anything substantial worth studying left in there, maybe some larger chunks of that dusty red rock he’s been finding around, but it could be fun to play geologist for a day nonetheless and show off in front of Hermann. On the other hand--there’s a harvest festival in the town tomorrow, which they also saw a sign for, and Newt’s never been one to pass up rides and junk food. He bets he could even coerce Hermann into getting on a ferris wheel with him. “Whatever you want,” Newt concedes.

Hermann nods. “We ought to wait and see what we’re in the mood for tomorrow.”

Newt watches him fill out another few clues, lulled into a strange relaxation by the crackling of the fire and the scratch of Hermann’s pencil. Hermann himself. Hermann is always unfairly cute when he’s lost in thought like this: he fiddles with his glasses, he frowns, he hms under his breath, he mutters things like no and maybe and it could be to himself. He used to do the same in the lab at his chalkboard. “Forty-two down is spelled wrong,” Newt says. (A strand of Hermann’s hair is sticking up funny. He wants to smooth it down.) “It should be an E, not an A like you have.”

“So it should be,” Hermann says. He fixes it. “I must’ve written it in a hurry. Thank you, Newton.”

“Mmhmm,” Newt says.

It’s all very domestic. Newt thinks he’d like to get used to it.

Hermann takes the big bed again that night as per their agreement. It’s full-sized and lumpy, with a quilt that looks at least a hundred years old, and it sags so deeply in the center Newt is half-worried Hermann will sink down into it and never be seen again. Newt himself takes the small twin bed in the loft above. There’s no central heating, just the fireplace, and it’s a bit of a pain to hustle up and down the stairs to toss on more logs when the fire starts to die, but it sure as fuck beats shivering to death. Or being bitched at by Hermann to death. “They have luxury cabins,” Hermann says, cacaooned in a blanket and watching Newt stoke tonight’s fire, “with bathtubs with jets, and working stoves, and radiators, and yet you’ve condemned us to--”

“Stop whining,” Newt says. He hefts another log onto the fire and has to dodge the resulting spray of sparks. “It’s about the experience. Luxury cabins are for wusses.”

“Hmph,” Hermann declares.

Newt’s woken up three hours later by three things: the intense shivers that wrack his body, the realization that the fire’s gone out, and the heavy pounding of rain on the roof. On the leaky roof. A droplet of water hits Newt’s forehead. Newt curses, louder than he intends, and rolls out of bed to his socked feet. Another raindrop hits his shoulder.

“Newton?” Hermann hisses.

“Sorry,” Newt hisses back. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Go back to bed.”

“You didn’t,” Hermann says. Normal volume. “I was already awake. It’s cold.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Newt sighs. He tugs a sweater on over his head--the only sweater he owns--and slips down the creaking staircase. “I’ll do up the fire again.”

Or he would’ve, anyway, if their stockpile of logs wasn’t totally used up. Hermann apparently stayed up longer than he did and had been steadily tending to the fire the whole time. A quick foray out to the woodpile confirms Newt’s suspicions: the protective roof didn’t manage to save the other logs from the wind-blown rain, and they’re all totally soaked. Completely unusable. “I should’ve just grabbed more after dinner,” Newt says, kicking off his muddy docs. He finds Hermann crouching at the hearth in front of the pitiful ashy embers with two of Newt’s flannels and the quilt from the bed pulled on. “We’re kinda screwed.”

Hermann mumbles out a stream of curses and something that sounds suspiciously like the luxury cabins would’ve had dry wood. Newt drops down next to him and also tucks himself beneath the quilt. “Do you want to borrow one of my blankets?” he says. “I have an extra up in the loft.”

“You’re getting me wet,” Hermann sniffs, but he shifts the blanket over to give Newt more of it. He’s shivering pretty badly. The guy needs some insulation, man.

“Okay,” Newt says, nursing another thought. “What if we double up?”

This makes Hermann freeze. “Double up?”

“You,” Newt says, “me, together, in your bed. It’ll be warmer.” He grins. “I’ve been told I’m a very good cuddler.” He snakes an arm around Hermann’s waist and squeezes it just to make his point. Hermann jumps.

“Ah,” he says. It could just be a trick of the low light (the single lamp they’ve turned on is resting on the bedside table across the room), but Newt could swear he’s blushing. “Well. That’d be--you don’t have to.”

“It’s no problem,” Newt says, and then lies, because he, on the other hand, can generally get by with his own natural insulation, probably even tonight if he tosses on an extra sweatshirt, “You’d be keeping me warm too. Symbiosis. It’s biology.”

“How scientific,” Hermann says.

“Also,” Newt says, “the roof’s kinda leaking above my bed.”

“Ah.”

Hermann surprises him by automatically adopting the position of little spoon when they slip under the covers. In Newt’s occasional fantasies of sharing a bed with Hermann--occasional, very occasional, he’ll admit to that--Hermann has always been the opposite. He’s got those gangly skinny limbs, you know, perfect to wrap around Newt like a bony octopus. It seems like a shame to waste them. Tonight is probably just a special case. “You’re like a bloody hot water bottle,” Hermann declares after ten minutes.

“Who the fuck still uses hot water bottles?” Newt says against his neck. “Are you some Victorian dandy?”

Hermann bristles. “They’re perfectly common.”

“They’re one step up from tossing a bunch of coals in a pan and calling it a day,” Newt says. “Just buy a space heater. They cost, like, twenty bucks.”

“Fire hazards,” Hermann says.

“You can have mine,” Newt says.

Hermann pinches his arm. “Shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Dick,” Newt says.

He snuggles a little closer to Hermann anyway. Lack of fire and Hermann’s bony elbows aside--between their combined layers of blankets, the gentle rise and fall of Hermann’s chest against his arm, and the patter of rain on the roof, Newt’s feeling pretty damn cozy. Even Hermann’s stopped shivering. (Newt could definitely get used to this.)

Before he can help himself, he plants a small kiss to the borrowed plaid fabric at Hermann’s shoulder, then follows it up with a gentle nuzzle against his neck. “Mm. G’night, Hermann.”

“Goodnight,” Hermann says, oddly breathless. He curls his fingers through Newt’s.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #problemwithtrouble

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asamlambung · 5 years ago

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Gush about your fave DR character! ♡

WVJHKHKHKHK anon whoever you are please know that youre unleashing a beast but also thank you im…..

(actually i made a tierlist for this though it might not be as accurate since it was a few months ago)

(also sorry for the characters that are in the lower tiers i swear even if i don’t like them most of them are still good memes. and the ones in “c” and “b” i’d definitely like more if there’s some good art/fics that explore their characters better though i might not actively look for it.)

OK so just to preface i havent seen most free times and most of my impression came from joseph anderson’s playthrough sooo i might be biased but im definitely planning on rewatching at least v3 in its entirety with all of its ftesO i guess it’s best if i start chronological and lemme just say. SAKURA OOGAMI IS BEST GIRL

it’s easy to say that im weak for big stronk gal who can lift me easily. and there is /definitely/ that point.

this is gonna sound weird but i really like the level-headedness she brings to the trials. i wouldnt say she’s the smartest but she rounds up the whole cast in a way that keeps the trials from being too absurd and non-sensical. there are other characters that also do this but seeing it come from her makes me happy somehow? maybe it’s because she also balances asahina in that sense and also that she’s the fourth trial stronk person who’s the most level headed compared to gonta and nekomaru. not saying those two are bad either, they’re great characters in their own right but i feel like their function is more on the side of entertaining rather than weighing in on the discussion. i especially think nekomaru’s whole thing with shitting is funny and it’s kinda a shame that sdr2 cut him from trials starting from the third.

speaking of sakura, yes i ship her with hina. no, duh. they’re good together. but i was also kinda touched when she talked about kenshiro. idk, sakura has two strong beefy hands and she can hold her girlfriend and boyfriend at the same time ok.(pretty sure kenshiro appears in udg but i havent experienced that game outside of seeing a few cutscenes so i wouldnt know)

also the fact that we get a callback to her in the strawberry house was. idk if i should say cool or if it was funny but it was something. and yep, her death was the saddest out of the fourth trials the games had. nekomaru’s death was more respectful for me and i felt more sad about gonta during his trial than his death. it’s more gruesome than sad, to be honest.(and ok the smoothskin joe gives to sakura is also kinda funny)

with other dr1 characters i like most of them are usually because of my friends’ (who got into dr years before i did) influence like kyoko and celeste. there are some others i laugh at but it’s more because of the inside jokes of the streamer i was watching.

ok so with sdr2 komaeda is easily one of the top. but tbh the reason why it is is bc a few years ago i read this (illegally distributed) doujin that had written his character really well. tbh i feel kinda bad now knowing that the doujinka stopped circulating their doujin bc of that and some of the subject matter of their doujin is… a bit too much for me. but the ones that are good are really good and when i came into canon i was like, “oh, this is the fingers in ass guy who got memed to death" nowadays, i see him more as pickle nagito though. i am interested in seeing how his character can be… well, not redeemed but i want to see him heal. whiiich might never happen in canon bc his hope bagel personality is too infamous now.

also i know everyone hcs nagito’s voice as smth along the lines of nico’s voice or john’s voice but like consider jph’s stoner voice. please. it’s so fucking funny with the fucking pickle komaeda meme. maybe it’s bc although im not obsessed with hope or despair, i related to his way of seeing karma.

after experiencing sdr2 thoough, lemme just say that johnny yong bosch did a great job voicing hajimmy hinata. like im not even kidding i really like that voice and if i was ursula i would steal that voice for my own use. buutt i cant do that. unlike komaeda, i’m pretty indifferent to his character arc and enjoy his one on one interactions with the characters more and how he reacts to the immediate events that happened over the course of sdr2.

soo yeah komaeda and hinata are literally opposites in my head, ain’t much of a surprise that i ship them i guess. but!! i like a lot of the gals in sdr2 surprisingly.

like, ok. maybe i’m biased but the designs for the gals in sdr2 are so goddamn adorable. like okay there’s the obvious ones like chiaki and sonia. and i don’t know why sonia’s personality is so goddamn adorable. like not in the “awww you’re so fucking uwu” type of way but more in the sense that she’s funny? it feels like even through all her weirdness that she still manages to make genuine connections with the characters.

with peko, it’s hard to dislike her considering her whole arc with the second trial. of course liking her goes in hand with liking fuyuhiko’s character too but i just like.. how stoic she sounds??? it’s adorable????? and with mikan yeah she kinda went… off in the third trial but consider???? her voice when she snaps was so goddamn hot?????????????? sdr2 has the best voice acting cant change my mind.

and i don’t know why, gundham is so goddamn funny and if i wanna show how absurd sdr2 can get i show my friends gundham’s scenes. he’s fucking funny, ok. and alongside nekomaru i can respect his death in a way. i goddamn saluted when i first watched his execution (with the full context of the trial) because i just really liked the conviction he carried with his murder.

aand with v3…

miu’s one of the funniest character ever!! i swear. i know some people look at the sex jokes and go, “ugh” but im a manchild so i ended up enjoying her moments so much. though i’m kinda a bit meh on the fanservice side, i like how she’s one of the characters who sticks out more. in my language we call her “pentolan” i guess.

tenko’s kinda an easy character for me to like considering… stronk lady. would love for her to carry me. the misandry can get a bit too much but she’s also a pretty funny and genuine character on top of that so she came out with me liking her.

kaede and tsumugi are characters i grew to /love/ after i thought about them a lot.

with kaede, the point i started to relate to her… was with her thirst with girls. i swear im not joking. but. okay. i like her position as the protag and all her ideals. one thing i was surprised that didn’t manage to make me relate to her was her passion for piano considering i’ve also studied it for like, around 12 years. maybe it’s because i kinda fell out of it around 2 years ago because reasons. despite of that though, i like how assertive she was in her time as the protag. and her execution was goddamn beautiful.

tsumugi, though, i wouldn’t grow to love as much if it weren’t for 郁十‘s works. like. please. go watch all of their videos it’s all so good. i think someone else talked about this, but tsumugi’s position as the mastermind feels a lot more “human” than what we got with junko enoshima. compared to kaede, i feel like we could’ve gotten so much more with her as a villain and i just want to see more of her outside of her “plain bread” facade.

it might also be due to my own hcs for them so they’re on my head a lot more than most of the other v3 characters are. even more than my two actual favorites!!

ok, ok. kochiki and shuichi are definitely my favorites of the bunch. like, the toppest tiers of fav actually. it’s kinda hard to talk about these two separately tbh. maybe it’s because before danganronpa, my previous otp in my previous fandom had these two’s dynamics as well. and like, there’s a certain pairing to a fandom i haven’t caught up to in years who also have a detective/phantom thief dynamic. aaand also persona 5 and that one pairing that i don’t have to name for people to know which is my otp.

yeah i’m a sucker for these types of characters. it’s kinda typical that they’d be popular in the fandom. which i’ll h a p p i l y eat up.

soo it’s kinda easy to start with kochiki. i think i don’t have to go into every minute detail and go all meta on why i like him as a character because a lot of people have articulated better on why his character works. he’s fun to watch when interacting with other characters and figuring out his motivation put my brain on work. i’ll say this though, i actually enjoy kokichi better when he’s not being woobified. he’s a rat through and through and i will enjoy this possum boi for that.

(oh wait, possum boi is rantaro. nvm.)

and now mr. detective himself. so i loved his character at first. didn’t love him more than kochiki but. liked his arc, he was a fun protag. then the fan content came and he became very moe in my eyes so i guess it’s easier to say that i uh, like fancontent of shuichi better but i like canon kokichi better. and also how is it that the majority of ousai e-rated works has shuichi as a top SHUICHI IS NOT A TOP um yeah anyway. i feel like out of all the main characters he’d be a pretty nice person to hang out with.

also his eyelashes are nice. im totally not embarrassed while typing this out. im literally physically restraining myself from typing out more so i can not embarrass myself even further.

okay congrats anon here you are i hope you enjoyed this embarrassing mess it took me more than a day to type this out because i don’t know where i should stop myself regarding some characters. but uh yeah. i have gushed. now i shall return to the abyss.

(unless anybody asks me to gush about my ocs which might actually be thrice as long as this)

#LFKDJAG;LFKDJGA;LKJ THE READMORE DIDNT WORK IM SO SORRY #poffin.txt #ok i fixed it i think #for the low low amount of 0.1 dollars i will stop gushing abt anything i am an embarrassment #im sorry it took me almost 2k words to gush but like... my love for some characters are just...... *shuichi clenching his chest sprite*

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binnie-binnie-bambam · 5 years ago

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I have been so curious on your tags you have for groups...... can you please tell me a few because I am genuinely curious what you have for them. They are great and hilarious. Like baby nunu boulder I can think about at 3 am and laugh over it

Lmao, yeah I have a weird brain 😂 and I’d love to tell you! Idk what groups you’re into so I’ll just go through them all haha Some have stories, some are just obvious. But I’ll just give the rundown since I talk a lot anyway 😂

UPDATE: I have to put a keep reading thingy because, oh my god I wrote so much. I’m terrible.

Astro

MJ: Happy Virus

That’s a given I think since it’s something he’s known by but he really does make me extraordinarily happy so it fits.

JinJin: Smiley Jinwoo

I love his full name and I almost always use an idols full name in any situation. I mean “JinJin” is adorable obviously, but “Jinwoo” makes me real soft. And he’s a smiley puppy and I can think about his smile anytime and it will automatically make me feel a million times better.

Eunwoo: Prince Dongmin

Again with the full/real name. And “prince” because not only is he very princely in appearance, he also has, in my opinion, some of the most important qualities a prince should have. I’m all about appreciating him for more than just his face!

Moonbin: Binnie Bug

So I have this thing where I only call specific people “bug”. Like it’s not a nickname I use lightly, it’s special to me for a reason that I’m not even able to describe. Binnie just happens to be one of those specific people. And my favorite name to call him is “Binnie” because it sounds cuddly and cute and I call him “Bin” or “Moonbin” when he’s being rude 😂

Rocky: Dancing Minhyuk

Real name again 👍 and he’s extraordinary at dancing. Nothing exciting about this tag, honestly. It doesn’t mean I love him any less!!! I would protect him with my life.

Sanha: Bbu Bbu Sanha

Sanha is captain of Astro’s boat. 👌 And he’s beyond adorable when he says “bbu bbu” so every time I tag it it makes me giggle and smile because I think about how cute he is and how much I wanna pinch his cheeks urghhhhhh I love him.

Got7

Mark: Quiet Sparkle

Mark can sometimes be super quiet and reserved and I really like that side of him. I mean I love his weird loud side too but something about quiet Mark is oddly soothing to me. And to me, he literally sparkles at any given moment.

Jaebeom: Jaememe

I genuinely think it’s impossible for him to avoid being a living, breathing, walking meme and I love it so much.

Jinyoung: Heavenly Jinyoung

Another pretty generic one. He’s just straight up heavenly. In all the way omg (he’s such a great bias wrecker 😩 aghhhh save me from himmmm).

Jackson: Wang Puppy

A given. A typical nickname of his but I just think it’s so cute and accurate. I like to think he’s mainly cute and adorable considering I qualify him as my best friend and most people want to avoid falling in love with their best friend, but I will admit that he messes with my head sometimes and thus, the tag is far from accurate in those cases…

Youngjae: Happy Sunshine

The light of my life (well one of them. MJ and Yeonjun and Youngjae are all one giant sunshine of my life). And happy is my favorite look on him. Excuse me while my heart flutters because I love him so much.

Bambam: Damn Bambam

I actually say this multiple times a day. And more than just for when he’s doing something ridiculously attractive. Sometimes it’s “damn Bambam, why are you so cute and dumb?” other times it’s “damn, Bambam is the best meme.” just to name a few 😂

Yugyeom: Brownie

I know this is also a common nickname for him, although I think people spell it Browny, but for some weird reason, when I first got into Got7, I don’t remember exactly what Yugyeom did, but it made me think of a cosmic brownie, ya know the little debbie snacks, and that’s what was in my brain when I thought up a tag for him 😂

TXT

Yeonjun: Baby Sunshine

He’s the baby out of my three sunshines, the other two as previously stated being MJ and Youngjae. He seriously makes me giddy with happiness and, like I said before, he lights up my life and makes it better.

Soobin: Cucumber Watermelon

I read somewhere when they first debuted that he has a nickname of “cucumber” because he’s tall and I thought it was cute and went with it. The “watermelon” part is because one of my favorite outfits he’s ever worn reminded me of a watermelon. I shall include a photo to illustrate my point, but also because he’s adorable.

Tadaaaaa!!!

Beomgyu: Fluffy Sparkle

Because he’s fluffy and cuddly and cute and squishy and I just wanna squeeze him. Plus fluffy hair on him is my favorite. And he’s another natural born sparkler. Idk how he and Mark do it!

Taehyun: Doe Eyes

They were the first thing I noticed about him. They always look so gentle. Even if he’s bursting with happiness and laughing away, his eyes are still so sweetly soft. I love them.

Hueningkai: Dollbaby

I took one look at this boys face and thought he was an absolute doll. That perfect porcelain skin and those defined petite features, he’s just beautiful and a lot of the time he doesn’t even look real to me.

Monsta X

Shownu: Baby Nunu Boulder

I too laugh at this on a regular basis lmao. He seriously has such a baby face though. Like it’s so cute and his eyes when he laughs I just *squeals into a pillow* “Nunu” because it’s a nickname of his and “boulder” because he’s, well, very large 😂

Wonho: Sin Axolotl

I explained this recently but I’ll just say it again since I’m on a roll lmao. He’s, a lot of the time, sinful to look at. But he’s also basically the cutest living being. And if he was an animal, I know everyone says bunny which I totally agree with, but in my brain, he’s an axolotl. I made a post about it a while back with photos side by side and, quite frankly, I cried a little about how cute I find the comparison to be. Maybe I’ll look for it, and cry again, and repost it.

Minhyuk: Soft Angel Face

I don’t mean this in a negative way so I’m not really sure how to word this without it sounding that way, but 95% of the time, I’m not wildly attracted to Minnie. It’s not that I don’t find him attractive at all, it’s just he’s more often than not extraordinarily adorable and pretty to me. There’s still that 5% of the time where he messes with my head but for the most part, he’s very soft and sweet and angelic looking to me.

Kihyun: Hamster Clam

This is one of my personal favorites 😂 This is the one I think about at 3 AM and laugh about. He’s compared to a hamster all the time and I love it so much and think it’s so accurate. But the clam part *starts laughing again* There’s this moment in some interview of MX’s, I have no idea what it was since I’ve never seen the full thing, just this clip that’s permanently ingrained in my mind, but Kihyun says something about like clam chowder or something and than Changkyun takes the mic and says “You look like a clam. Sorry.” It makes me laugh randomly and that’s why I chose it. Every Monbebe knows about that clip I’m sure. I’m still relatively new here so I don’t know everything and feel like I have to explain what I do know lmao

Hyungwon: Anime Prince

He’s so princely to me. Like he just looks regal. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a complete dork, but he looks very princely in my opinion. And to me, and probably other people, he looks like he just stepped out of an anime at any given moment of any given day. As an anime and manga lover, it makes me feel some type o’ way.

Jooheon: Joobee

Obviously known as JooHoney, I wanted to go off the beaten path and this is what my brain came up with. It’s not very creative, I’m aware of that. But I think it sounds really adorable and it fits him and I’d probably call him that if I knew him irl too.

Changkyun: Crisis Causing Boy

Curse this boy, I swear. He messes with me sooooo much. One minute he’s squishy and so so cute and I just wanna cuddle with him. The next minute he’s *string of curse words*. A demon. A demon, I tell you. He has caused me to have more crises than I can count so that’s why his tag is what it is.

As for tags for members of other groups I don’t stan yet, I only have one because I couldn’t pass up the opportunity when it presented itself in my brain. Also, I consider Ateez to be one of the groups I stan but I don’t have tags for them other than their names yet. Anyway, the one I have a tag for.

Woozi: Oojigoojigoo

I both hate myself for this and am impressed that I’m crazy enough to think of this. I just had to find out that his name is pronounced “oo-ji” and not phonetically. My exact thoughts when I discovered this are as follows: *gasp* “Ooji.” *has epiphany* *another gasp* “A baby.” *fawns over his cuteness* “Ooji - gooji - goo!” *is ashamed* “I’m a disgrace. I am the scum of the earth. I’m a genius!”

So yeah, I wrote a fucking novel I’m sorry 😂 You probably didn’t want all of this information. But now everyone knows my secrets…..? Are they secrets? Not really. Anyway, I’m sorry this is the longest post ever but I hope you at least find something of this entertaining or cute or any positive emotion really. And thank you so much for asking. I love exposing my horrible mind and terrible sense of humor to the world.

No seriously thank you. I’ve got questions about my tags before so I’m glad people are at least somewhat interested in them and what they mean/where they came from. I might update this is I think of more tags for the groups I get into in the future. This was fun. For fucks sake, I need to shut up, I’m so sorry.

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