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astoriacolumnstaircase · 1 year ago

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This is fascinating. I agree with you that Laudna tries to not be defined by her trauma, and that she tends to go for big swings, either not acknowledging it at all, or considering the risk of giving in entirely. I disagree that we haven’t really seen growth from her until now, because I’d argue that her asking if she should give in at all is a sign of the growth she’s had from her time with the hells.

She’s spent decades on the run (and now we know for sure that any low level cleric had a decent chance of turning undead on her any time she got comfortable, which really puts a finer point on why her being undead is so unusual in a world that includes like, dragon people and everyone is just fine with that), trying to make herself palatable, so to ask the rest of the group “hey what if I give into these horrific urges to consume people’s souls because it might give us an edge” that takes an enormous amount of trust that they won’t just decide she’s too dangerous to keep in the group and let FCG send her fleeing.

He wouldn’t, btw. There’s a very weird and complex dynamic between the robit and the dead girl where they’re like, dark mirrors of each other, but FCG played a big role in getting Laudna back from the dead and I don’t think they’d ever like, actively antagonize her for anything other than a bit that she’s in on.

But yeah I think you really nailed it with “How do you move on from a trauma that strips you from your future, physically alters you, and your abuser never leaves you?” because I feel like, maybe you never really do move on. It’s something she has to grow around. Like a tree that’s always going to be warped because of the boulder that shattered its trunk, but its roots were too strong to let it die. I think it’s a growth that’s actually kind of hard to see, because it happens so slowly, but that’s the beauty of a show like Critical Role; we get the time to see her evolve. And I don’t know if we’re ever going to get any of those big showy moments that we might have for other characters. But Laudna is my favorite character in the Bells Hells because of the way she always has this background conversation running with grief. And I like seeing it play out.

Now, I wanted to address something you said in your tags. And, please keep in mind that this is just my opinion, so I am hoping that my words won’t be touted as reason why Laudna fans or imodna shippers are the worst part of c3. You said:

And I had a really hard time gathering the gumption to even respond to your very good meta. I love meta, it’s the reason I got back on tumblr; I wanted to read what other people were thinking about these characters that I can’t get out of my head. I don’t write very much of it, because the way I engage with my thoughts about characters is through fanfic and little comics, and meta doesn’t really come naturally to me.

The reason I, a certifiable Laudna stan, haven’t posted about what her giving into Delilah means for her character, is because I have found most of the current meta that talks about her and Delilah also, somehow, involves Orym, even though Laudna is a grown woman with her own damn things going on. And, to be perfectly honest, I feel like a lot of the meta that I see that I’d really like to engage with has tags like this, and it puts me on the back foot. Like I have to dig myself out of the “imodna liker” hole before I can even say anything. Criticism for the things I haven’t said yet makes me worry that I’ll try and engage, and then get called out for another thing that I should have talked about but didn’t.

I like Laudna a whole lot. I am not frustrated with her character in the slightest. But I don’t ardently defend her on tumblr because I find that kind of back and forth to be really exhausting. I don’t want to be a public defender for my blorbo, I want to read really interesting thoughts like the ones that you have brought to me (thank you!) and I want to get excited and tell you my thoughts in turn! Because fandom isn’t my job. It’s what I do for fun.

sorry about the essay. And the weird format (I write in a different program because I can't really handle the one on tumblr)

Laudna, for most of this campaign, has desperately wanted to avoid being defined by her trauma. She doesn't always do that in the healthiest way, but she tries.

So for her to say, "What if I feed it? What if I give in? What if I risk it consuming me?," is a change for her.

Laudna only seems to be able to navigate her trauma in the extremes, either compartmentalizing and avoiding it, or letting it over take her. One could argue that actually feeling her anger and need for control is in fact healthier than avoiding it, but I don't believe Laudna sees it that way. Plus feeling extreme emotions and acting on those emotions in a time of distress (ie. Bor'dor) is very different from choosing to actively "feed Delilah." There's clearly a healthier middle ground here, but she can't see it. If Laudna chooses to go down this path, will she lose herself? Or in losing parts of herself to Delilah, will she finally see the woman that Imogen, Ashton, and the rest of the Bell's Hells see? Will she see that she is also deserving of a future as much as Imogen and her friends are?

As frustrating as Laudna's character growth has been for many of us, I still believe Laudna forces us to examine some difficult questions about trauma. How do you move on from a trauma that strips you from your future, physically alters you, and your abuser never leaves you? What would healing and growth look like for that person? Can you get strength by tapping into that anger and grief at times?

Laudna's self-imposed limitations on her own future can make her feel very stagnant as a character. But the fact that she's discussing this with her friends suggests things are changing for her, for better or worse, and I think it's worth discussing (if it interests you of course). More importantly, it's worth discussing on its own merits outside of the context of what this means for Orym and Orym's choices, or any other member of the Bell's Hells. If folks want to defend Laudna when another PC wonders if Delilah can help, we should be willing to talk about what it might mean for Laudna when she says it herself.

#laudna #critical role #critical role meta

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revrover · 2 years ago

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Do I... know you? | Eddie Munson

Ao3 link here!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Meet-cute fluff, some light swearing, but that’s it!

Summary: When Eddie Munson decided to skip out on the latest Hawkins High student pep rally, the last thing he expected was to meet someone new — you.

A/N: This is my FIRST EVER piece of fanfic and I've been so nervous to share, so please be kind!

The student section erupted as Jason Carver continued his rant into the microphone. It was nauseating how much he loved to hear himself talk. All decked out in his uniform along with the rest of the basketball team, the microphone prickled and popped with each consonant he spat, his voice blaring through the harsh speakers of the old tattered Hawkins High gymnasium.

As his peers hung on every word coming from the team captain's mouth, Eddie Munson stood stoically against the side of the bleachers, completely unimpressed by what was unfolding in front of him. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, fists practically shoved into his armpits as if he were physically trying to contain his disdain for both pep rallies and Carver himself.

Unfortunately, attending this type of student function was a requirement at Hawkins High. (Something about the importance of building school spirit and community or whatever.) Determined to graduate this year, Eddie had sworn he would do whatever it took to get his diploma — even if it meant subjecting himself to soul-sucking assemblies. So there he was, lurking in the shadowy corner of the gymnasium while the theatrics continued to play out at center court.

Something between a yawn and a groan escaped his mouth amongst all the excitement. Each assembly was essentially the same as Eddie had discovered; students gathering, cheerleaders doing their peppy little routines, a faculty member going on about something like lunchroom etiquette, or the latest incident of school vandalism. At least the marching band was decent. Oh, and there was always, of course, the parading of Hawkins’ athletes. Eddie had seen it all, so while Jason Carver's self-indulgent monologuing was nothing new or surprising, it was still a bit much.

Who the hell thought it was a good idea to give this guy a microphone? Eddie thought to himself, now harboring an even more disenchanted look on his face.

"Let's do it for THEM!" Jason shouted, the crowd going wild. It triggered an involuntary roll of Eddie's eyes, accompanied by the dramatic toss of his head backward. In his exaggerated annoyance, he caught a glimpse of a bright neon sign behind him. He turned his head more fully over his shoulder, and there it was; shining as if to signal his salvation, the word 'EXIT' radiated red above the double doors of the gymnasium.

To Eddie's credit, he really had tried. He had tried to follow the rules and stick it out through the entire assembly. But as each segment became more insufferable than the last, the welcoming glow of the exit sign was far too tempting. Teachers and faculty had seen him enter the gymnasium, certainly, they wouldn't notice if he... excused himself a bit early.

The silver lining to Jason's never-ending speech was that it had engrossed the entire Hawkins High staff and student body. That meant all eyes were on the basketball team, allowing Eddie to slip away unnoticed. Eddie was no stranger to maneuvering quietly behind the scenes when he needed to, only drawing attention to himself when the situation called for it. Or when he wanted to make a statement. It depended on how combative he was feeling that day.

Arms still folded, his dark eyes shifted from side to side, carefully surveying the crowd. Keeping his posture casual, he began to take small cautious steps backward toward the exit. Eddie found his situation humorously similar to ones he had often led his friends through during DND campaigns; trapped in a dungeon of sorts, maneuvering the environment and relying on stealth to escape, all without alerting an enemy or any of its minions. From what he could tell, each element seemed pretty on point with his current circumstances.

Eddie inched closer and closer toward the double doors behind him when, finally, his lower back pressed against the cold metal crash bar. The contact drew a sharp inhale from his lungs as a thin sliver of exposed skin between his belt and the hem of his shirt touched the cool aluminum.

Eddie braced himself. Not yet in the clear, he could feel his patience wearing thin as Jason’s voice relentlessly kept grinding through the speakers, waging an assault on Eddie’s ear drums. Fighting the urge to just burst through the doors and break into a sprint, he took a breath and waited for the right moment to present itself. Then, as sure as the sun sets and rises, another bolster of applause exploded from the student section.

The cheering was precisely what Eddie needed. Sweeping his eyes across the scene in front of him one more time, he shifted his weight backward into the doors. The sound of heavy wood and metal scraping together as they opened was entirely drowned out by the crowd.

And just like that, there was one less student in attendance at the Hawkins High student pep rally, and no one had even noticed.

Well, almost no one.

His eyes still focused on the crowded gymnasium in front of him, a cocky, triumphant smirk stretched across Eddie's face as he backed further into the hallway, his steps now swaggering into a strut. Relishing in the pride of his escape, he stretched out his arms in celebration and flipped the bird with both hands at the doors as they began to shut, narrowing his view of the gymnasium until fully closed.

His antics were quickly interrupted, however. Before he could even turn around to head down the hallway, a single solitary voice called from behind him.

Your voice.

"Skipping out on one of Carver's rallying speeches?" You asked nonchalantly.

Eddie froze. Jesus Christ! He thought to himself. Since when did teachers start monitoring the halls during these things??

Smirk gone and eyes wide, Eddie was already coming up with excuses in his head as he whipped around, expecting to see a Hawkins High faculty member. Instead, to his surprise, his eyes fell upon you.

Eddie Munson was taken aback. Directly across the hallway from him, you sat calmly on a wide windowsill, your back wedged into the corner where the glass met the wall. You had your knees propped up to support a notebook, and with a pen in your hand you busily scribbled on the open page. Although your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, several strands had escaped your scrunchy and now hung down, framing your face. Despite Eddie’s presence and your posed question, your gaze remained on the paper in front of you.

Eddie looked around quickly as if to confirm the voice he heard did, in fact, come from you. As he had suspected, it was just the two of you alone in the otherwise empty hallway. Clearing his throat, Eddie approached you with a single cautious step, trying his best to play it cool and totally NOT act as if you had just caught him off guard.

"Oh, you know..." He said, swinging his arms back and forth, clapping his hands behind and in front of him. "One can only be inspired so much."

He gave a half-hearted laugh, not sure how the joke would land.

It hung in the air for a moment as you continued to silently scribble. Your eyes remained fixed on the notebook in front of you, which made Eddie nervous. He squinted, but from where he was standing, he couldn't tell if you were writing or drawing. Heat began radiating from his cheeks as uncertainty built inside him, unable to gauge how you would react to his sarcasm. The possibility that you could easily rat him out for skipping the pep rally added to his anxiety. The last thing Eddie wanted was to spend another afternoon in detention or worse -- be required to attend more student activities. But wait, weren't you skipping too, he wondered? What were you doing outside of the assembly? His thoughts were interrupted when you finally cracked a smile and began to laugh.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." You nodded in agreement, chuckling as you continued to look down at the spiral-bound page in your lap.

Eddie let out a small sigh of relief, sliding his hands into his back pockets. He glanced down at his shoes, twisting a toe into the ground as he allowed himself to laugh a bit more at his own joke. Whoever you were, you seemed to share his sentiments about Hawkins High's latest golden boy, Jason Carver.

When Eddie’s eyes wandered back up from the floor, he saw that your amused expression had not faded. His heart beat a little faster as a sense of pride swelled inside of him, knowing he was responsible for putting that smile on your face.

Your face. Eddie couldn’t help but stare at it, mesmerized — the way you were sitting in the window, sun rays pouring perfectly through the glass and illuminating the side of your cheek. Shadows cast silhouettes that outlined your lips and delicately traced your chin down to your neck, making you look angelic. Those loose strands of hair that had fallen around your face shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight. On top of all that, your look of concentration gave you an aura that appeared nearly timeless. You were, in a word, beautiful.

A moment passed with neither of you saying anything. You had still yet to look up, and Eddie could sense he was lingering a bit too long. He quickly glanced back down towards his feet, as if the eye contact alone would be enough to convince them to move. It wasn't. It had been so easy walking out of the gymnasium only moments ago - left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot - and backward at that. So why was he having such a hard time with it now?

It wasn't a hard question for him to answer, really. He was intrigued. Who were you? Why hadn't he seen you before? Eddie's hand came up to his mouth, fingers settling against his chin as he thought. His thumb fiddled with the rings on his fingers for a moment, a bit of a habit when he was trying to focus.

Eddie's feet weren't budging, so instead of walking away, he decided to break the silence.

"Do I... know you?" He asked inquisitively, his hand leaving his chin slightly as he pointed at you.

The question stopped your scribbling. You knew the answer, and it was a simple one.

Did he know you? No.

On the other hand, did you know him? Well, not personally, no. But you certainly knew of him. Metalhead. Super Senior. Drug Dealer. Hellfire Club member. Devilishly handsome.

You rested your pen against your notebook, and for the first time since Eddie had backed into the hallway, you looked up to lock eyes with him. Suddenly, Eddie could not remember how to breathe - unprepared for the way his chest quickly tightened when your piercing eyes met his own deep brown ones. Your gaze was soft, yet it seized hold of him as if the Lady of the Lake herself had grabbed him and pulled him under into the cool depths of your irises.

"Probably not.” You said with a sweet smile as you shook your head, pulling Eddie back to reality. “I’m y/n. y/n l/n.”

Y/N. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth upon learning your name. In response to your introduction, Eddie stood up a little straighter, then bent forward into a low bow.

"Eddie Mun--"

"Munson." You blurted out before your brain could stop your mouth. Eddie’s head snapped up to look at you in surprise.

Now you were the one trying to play it cool. Your mind raced as you quickly tried to recover the conversation in a way that didn't make you out to be a stalker. You tilted your head slightly, propping your elbow against your knee as you leaned your face into the palm of your hand in an effort to conceal at least one side of your blushing cheeks.

A beat, then you explained.

"We have third-period math together... Ms. O'Donnell's class? Your name comes up during roll call... a lot."

You gave a playful grimace which caused your nose to scrunch and eyes to squint. Eddie started nodding his head, the tousled curls of his hair gently springing up and down in sync with his jaw. It was true, he couldn't even remember the last time he had attended that class.

"Plus," You added, "you're a bit notorious around here - especially after that little table walk number in the cafeteria, it was easy to put the name to the face."

"Ah, shit," Eddie said, simultaneously nodding and rocking back and forth on his feet. A sheepish smile made its way across his face. Eddie shoved his hands into his front pockets now, scrunching his shoulders up to his ears, "Yeah, that'll do it."

The two of you started to laugh, recalling his theatrics from earlier that day. Your laugh was a new kind of music to Eddie's ears. Melodic and infectious, it filled him with a warmth that made him want to melt right then and there.

Suddenly, a muffled eruption of cheers came from the gymnasium, drawing both of your attention. Eddie quickly glanced down at his watch. The rally was drawing to a close, and his window of time to slip away was getting dangerously small. He turned back toward you, his mouth open as he tried to find the right words to properly excuse himself.

"Go on," you said, beating him to the punch. Smiling and waving your hand in a shooing gesture, you already knew what he was trying to articulate. Bringing his hands together in thanks, Eddie gave you a quick bow of his head, then spun around to head down the hallway. He had only taken a few strides when suddenly he stopped. Pivoting back around, the chain around his belt loop swung against his hip as he turned to face you again, finding you were already looking down at your notebook, scribbling.

"By the way, if anyone asks--" he started to say.

"--I never saw you." You replied without missing a beat, finishing his sentence for him yet again. You raised your head from your notebook, giving him a knowing grin that reassured Eddie he could trust you to keep his secret.

“Y/n L/n,” he said, smiling back and pointing at you with both index fingers. He savored the sweet sound of your name in his mouth. As he turned to leave again, you earnestly interjected one last question.

"Out of curiosity, where are you headed?"

Eddie thought for a moment. Then, with a wicked glint in his eye, a mischievously playful grin spread across his face.

"Hell, most likely."

He gave you a wink, then turned quickly to take off down the hallway.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fluff

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wayward-mikaelson · 4 years ago

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Sixth Gear

Word Count: 4287

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Characters: Jensen, Reader, Marie (OG Character), Nathan (OG Character) Dylan (OG Character), Donna Ackles, Alan Ackles, Mackenzie Ackles, Joshua Ackles, Jared (Mentioned), and Misha (Mentioned).

About: Reader goes home for the holidays only to be introduced to Jensen, the star of Supernatural. The Reader and Jensen hit it off that first night where one thing leads to another until the readers Brother walks in on them about to rip each others clothes off. For the next few months the Reader and Jensen get to know each more. Then the Reader decides to go home for the Summer just to see Jensen and he shows her his motorcycle and how it all works where one thing leads to another.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Unprotected Sex (be responsible, wrap it up), Drinking, Oral Female Receiving, Mention of Drugs

DISCLAIMER: This one shot does contain a toxic parent and everything that comes with a toxic parent. That means there will be manipulation, gas lighting, emotional/psychological abuse, etc. If you live or have lived with a toxic parent and or person please read at your own discretion.

DISCLAIMER 2: Any of the shorts that are hot and steamy, I want to put out there that it's in no way disrespectful towards Danneel at all. I love her to death and respect the crap out the marriage between her and Jensen. So when reading those shorts, know that it all takes place in an alternate world where they aren't married at all.

A/N: If you have a small request, shoot me a message. Request close 7.11.2020 at 11.59pm US central time

A/N 2: Do you want to be tagged in future fanfics posts? Comment Below!

A/N 3: This took me 3 to 4 days to write so I really hope you enjoy this hot and steamy motorcycle ride.

Requested by: @magssteenkamp

Tag List: @hobby27 @elansaidaris @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @squirrelnotsam

*18+ CONTENT. YOUNGER THAN 18 MOVE ALONG

**DO NOT COPY AND PASTE MY WORK ANYWHERE ELSE UNLESS YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION AND IF YOU GIVE CREDIT TO ME. I WORK TOO HARD ON THESE STORIES TO HAVE MY WORK STOLEN

***PLEASE READ WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS BEFORE READING.

I sit in the airport thinking and wondering how I am going to make it through the weekend with my parents. My Mom is toxic as hell while my Dad is just now waking up to her toxicity after nearly thirty years of marriage. He has told me many times over this last year that he was considering on leaving her but somehow she always found out and manipulated him to stay. "Maybe I can convince him to come home with me?" I whisper to myself. I have an extra room for him. I rub my face knowing it will be a long shot to get my father out of that house.

When my flight is called for Dallas, I stand up, picking up my bag and making my way to the gate. I hate holidays that require me to come home. Like Thanksgiving and Christmas. I make up excuses for all the other ones just to stay away from home. I was much more happier in Portland. As I arrive at the gate, I pull out my ticket and let the lady scan it. As I walk towards the plane, I think, I still have time to turn around and just say screw it and not get on. It will most certainly make my life so much easier.

I sit in my seat and send a quick text to my Dad letting him know that I was on my way. In return he say's he's excited and that my brother Dylan was coming too. I turn my off and sit back. My brother. The black sheep of the family is finally coming home for a holiday after five years. It'll be nice to hug him again and see how he's been holding up. I smile and close my eyes. This trip is going to be amazing and entertaining.

When my eyes open, I feel the plane preparing to land. I look out the window to my right and see the Dallas airport below. No time to turn back now, I think. Should have high tailed it when I had the chance. When the plane lands I wait until it's time to gather my bag and make my way back to baggage claim. As I do, I pull out my phone and text my Dad to see if he's here. I sooner I get out of this crowed airport, the sooner I can get home and lock myself away until dinner. He texts me back saying he and Mom are circling around and will pick me up when they see me.

"Great," I say stuffing my phone away. "Her highness is here to talk down to me and talk nothing but herself."

"I don't know your situation, but you can tell her highness to go screw herself," A voice next to me says. I turn to see a man about a few years older than me and highly gorgeous pulling up a few bags. He looks oddly familiar.

I laugh. "If only that will work," I see him give a small smile before I walk off.

I walk outside of the terminal waiting to see my Dad's small grey SUV. When I do, I get this sick feeling when I see my Mom. She is the soul reason why I stay away from home and avoid her. She belittles me and makes me feel so small. She judges the way I dress and do my makes. Even thinking about it makes me even more sick.

My Dads SUV pulls up next to me. He smiles at me and I return the smile. "Hey," I say as I buckle up.

"What? No hi for your mom?" My Moms tone said it all. "I see how it is. And is that what you wore on the plane?! That's just horrendous. I would never wear that!" Oh I wish this trip was already over. "At least your brother had the decency to show up in an actual outfit. You look like you're looking for drugs."

I smile sarcastically. "That's exactly what I'm doing Mom," My Dad glares at me from the rearview mirror but, I ignore it. "There's a guy I know off of 4th. He deals the best drugs! He's the whole reason I'm here."

"YN!" Dad says my name firmly and I stop. Guess I took it too far. "How was that flight?" He asks softly.

"I slept the whole time. I'm not big on flying." I say reaching into my bag to pull out the mini bottles I hid. I take one out and shot it back as fast I can before either of my parents see.

The rest of the drive home was in silence. Which, when riding with both my parents, isn't relaxing. When we pull into the driveway of my childhood home, I am out of the car before Dad puts it in park and bolt inside.

"YN," I hear Moms voice call after me. "You're not going to let your father carry your bags in all on his own."

"Marie!" I hear Dad say before I shut the door behind me. Then its all muffled voices.

I run upstairs and into my room. I can hear the music in my brothers room already. He only has music on when he and Mom get into it. That explains why she tagged along for the ride to pick me up. I close the door and drop what bag onto the floor and flop onto the bed. I didn't have time to close my eyes when I heard knocking.

"What?" I groaned. I did not want to get up off my bed.

"We will be having company over in a few hours so makes sure you presentable." Moms voice is overly heard. Dylan's music stops.

"Who?" I hear Dylan ask.

"The Ackles," She says. "They used to watch you guys when you were little. You guys got along with their kids."

"Who?" Dylans door opens but I can't shake that the name Ackles was familiar too. "You talk like we should remember them."

"Why do I even try?" Moms voice is irritated for whatever reason that is known to her. "Just be ready in two hours. Dylan don't wear look too goth. YN, don't wear pajamas. Make it look like you guys actually love your family."

I hear her footsteps retreating when a Dylan cracked the door. "Are you decent?" He asks.

"Yeah," I sit up on my bed and rub my face. I see my older brother walk into the room. He's wearing dark skinny jeans and a black button up shirt. I have no idea why Mom wouldn't think that's not goth like. "I think your outfit looks good." I toss another mini bottle of hard liquor towards him. He, of course, catches it flawlessly.

"Oh thank God," He cracks it open and tosses it back. "I do plan on wearing this and stuff like the whole time I'm here."

"Speaking of you being here," I pull out another mini bottle and toss that one back. Sadly its my last one. "Why are you here? I mean you've seen me a few times these last few years."

"Dad," Dylan says. "He says he's finally telling Mom he's high tailing it out of her life. Has the papers all drawn up and stuff. He wanted to see if he could live with me in Arizona. I automatically said yes because I want to see the look on Moms face when she sees her money source walk out on her."

Now I wish I packed more mini bottles. "Hopefully not in front of our dinner guest," I kind of hope he does secretly.

"No," Dylan stands up. "He won't do that. He will do it after they leave most likely. Now I will let you get ready and make sure you make yourself look like the fucking Queen that you are and slay that shit. Mom hates that."

I laugh. "As long as you do it too. Then we both can slay it together. And yes I will let you use my dark eye shadow palette."

"You're the best sister ever," Dylan walks out of the room. "What would I ever do without you?"

"Crash and burn, sweetheart, crash and burn."

Two hours came and went and both Dylan and I are ready. As we walk downstairs we hear the muffled voices of our parents and our dinner guests. This feels so much like my teenage years, I think to myself as I round the corner to the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks.

There stands the attractive man from the airport. In my kitchen. In my house. He's wearing a red button up shirt with jeans and nice semi-casual shoes. I zero in on his already darkening five o'clock shadow and begin to imagine what it would like in full. He notices me too and give me a smile.

"YN, Dylan," Moms voice sounds. She really never lets Dad talk at all. "I'm sure you remember the Ackles children. Well, they aren't children anymore but, you understand what I mean."

Everyone gives a light chuckle. "I'm afraid I don't remember. I don't remember much of my childhood to be honest." I say giving handshakes to everyone. I notice my brother Dylan hesitate to give the attractive man a handshake. Then I notice his small blush. Damn, I think, it would be my luck to see the same attractive man to learn he could be gay. I guess I'll see when my brother hard core flirts with him during dinner.

"I'm Jensen," he says shaking my hand.

"YN," I say smiling and he smiles back.

I get everyones names and Mom and Dad say dinner will be ready in about an hour or so. In that moment I excuse myself to the back deck to mix myself a drink. Mom glares at me while I walk away. I also notice Dylan trying to flirt with Joshua who was equally as attractive as his brother.

Once on the back deck I take a deep breath and head to Dads bar and start mixing a drink. Then I hear the door open and close. The sound of footsteps tell me its a male.

"So, the whole telling her highness to screw herself didn't happen, I assume," Jensens voice is super smooth.

I look up from my mixing. "If you're meaning my mother, then no it didn't. In fact she accused me of buying drugs."

"Really?!" Jensens voice sounds surpised. "Wow, isn't a plane ride supposed to be comfy?"

I throw my hands up in the air. "That's why I was thinking." I make the mistake of looking as he licks his lips. I turn away quickly and grab the other mixer. "Want a drink? I'm pretty good at mixing."

"Surprise me," Jensen says soft voice as he raises an eye brow and looks me other.

For the next half hour we talk. We talk about random things. We talk about his time on his hit shower Supernatural. A show for some reason I have never seen and now am very interested in. We talk about his life in between shooting his show and being home. I share that I am rarely ever home due to Mom. I don't go into details but I think he get's the gist of it.

"So, I have this huge vinyl collection. Passed down to me from my grandfather before he died." I say mixing another drink. I am slowly starting to feel the effects of this drink. Jensen is still working on his first glass. Such class that is getting horny. "Would you like to see it?"

Jensen smiles and sets his drink down to follow me inside. Dad looks up from listening to Jensen's dad. "What are you two up to?" He asks.

"I'm going to show Jensen grandpas vinyl collection he gave me." We waltz pass them and up the stairs. At the top I loose my balance and fall back into Jensen who grabs me with both his arms.

"One two many drinks?" He asks chucking.

"I promise I can handle my drinking," I begin to walk again. Once in my room I go to my closet and pull out a few boxes and open them. "My Dad was or is still going to be sending these to me but, have a look at them all you want. I don't have them organized."

Jensen looks at the records and with each one he finds that excites him, it excites me in places I never thought to be excited in again. I watch as his smile takes up his whole face and how his eyes crinkle when that happens. I guess I'm staring too long because Jensen looks up a few times with his eyes. I know I should I look away but I honestly can't. This man is just too handsome and sexy to just look away.

Jensen sets down a Sinatra record and comes over to sit next to me on the bed. I am very aware now of how close he is but I still can't stop staring. I rack him over with my eyes and take a deep breath and exhale. I look away and take a huge drink. Nope, no tonight, not in this house, I think to myself. Mom will find out and she will have my ass for having sex yet again in her house. l turn to apologize for staring when I feel his hand on my face pulling it in towards him.

His lips are soft. His lips are eager. His lips move around mine like they were made to be there. I sigh and part my lips and I feel his tongue shot right into my mouth and explore every part it. When he starts to pull back, I nip his bottom lip. Jensen sucks in a deep breath and within seconds he has me straddling his lap. The two of us trying to get our shirts off when my door opens.

"YN, Mom says dinner is,..." Dylan's voice snaps the both of us out of whatever trance we are in. "Well, I see that you skipped right on to dessert. Please continue." I look over to see Dylan checking Jensen out leaning on the door frame licking his lips.

"Don't you know how to knock?" I hiss at him fumbling to fix my shirt.

"Don't you know how to put a sock on the door?" Dylan asks smirking, still checking Jensen out.

Dinner was good. I couldn't keep my eyes from glancing at Jensen as he talked about his show and his co stars. Mom was just over the moon and always ask questions that were like "Oh Jared this" or "Oh Misha that." I will need to look those guys up too. I could also tell that Jensen was getting uncomfortable. So I brought the attention to myself which of course Mom hated. Her death glare let me know it too. Dinner ended on a high note though.

"Here, put your number in and I'll do the same," Jensen held out his phone. "That way we can talk while I'm shooting." I take his phone and give him mine. We put our numbers in and say goodnight and goodbye. Hopefully, I think, I get to see him again.

The rest of my time home actually went to hell. The next morning we wake up to Mom screaming at Dad. He had given her the papers and told her she either had to sign now or sign in front of lawyers. Mom tries everything in the book but Dad stood his ground. In the end, Mom storms out screaming and calling Dad all sorts of names and saying she has nothing to her name and that he can't just up and leave her. Says that he can't live life without her because he is nothing without her.

After Mom left, I changed my flight to leave before Thanksgiving. I wanted nothing to do with what was going to go down. According Dad, Dylan already has space for him set up in Arizona. I felt better about him having a place. Two days before leaving, I pack up what I else I wanted to take to Portland with me. Everything else would be put into storage for later or donated. Dylan helped me ship them off.

The day before I left, Mom tries to talk to me but I told her she did it to herself all these years. The manipulation. The gas lighting. The mental abuse. The emotional abuse. The whole deal. It was all her that lead to this. She huffed and called me a bitch and that I am no better than Dad. So by the time I make it home, I am a wreck.

Over the next few months, I bury myself in my work and ignoring Mom. Dad on the other hand was doing much better. Already got a job out in Arizona and is saving up to get a small apartment. Dylan tells me he's the happiest and most easy going person without Mom. Mom on the other hand still refuses to sign the papers and has gotten cocky lawyers involved. She wants him to alimony and when he dies she wants me to continue to pay it. I said hell no. Dad stood his ground until the very bitter end.

While that was all going on and when it was finally over, I spoke non stop to Jensen. I even caught up to the current season of his show and tell him what I think of it all. We talk about anything that will keep us texting or talking all into the hours of the night. Neither of us mention that night in my room. Dylan thinks I'm falling for him with how much I talk about him. I doubt it but then again I might be.

Jensen, has been the only person to make me feel like I am not crazy. He has called me or facetimed me to help me through the rough days or the out the blue panic attacks. His entire existence keeps me from doing anything stupid. So, yeah, you can say that I'm falling head over heels hard for him.

By the time summer started to come around I am sitting in my apartment trying to get my AC to work when my phone rings. I answer without looking at the caller ID.

"Whats up?" I even hear the irritation in my voice.

"Hey," Jensens voice instantly calms me. "Everything okay?"

"No," I groan and flop onto the cold tile in my small kitchen. "My AC broke and the landlord won't have anyone out until next week. I told him he won't see rent until it's fixed. Now he's threatening to evict me if I don't pay. But it's so damn hot that I'm practically naked right now."

"I'd love to see that," Jensen teases, making me laugh. "I'm sorry your AC is jacked up. Do you have plans on visiting Dallas?"

I sit up on my elbow. "Should I?"

Four days later Jensen is picking me up from the airport in a rental car. He paid for my entire flight and AirBnB taken care of. "I thought you would like to have control of what your AC temperature should be. Hotels normally run super cold to the point that Misha has tried spooning with me." I laugh. "I do hope it isn't weird that I am also staying that AirBnB."

"None at all," I say feeling my face warm up a bit. It didn't take Jensen long to convince me to come. I really wanted to see him and I really wanted AC.

When we get to the AirBnB, I can't help stare at it in awe. It's almost like a mansion. Then the garage door opens and there sits a motorcycle. I am much more interested in this Jensen guy. I get out to grab my things but Jensen shoos me aside saying he's got it all. I then walk on over to the motorcycle and trail my hand on it.

"Isn't she a beauty?" Jensen asks. I look and he's staring at me, well, more like slowly running his eyes over my body.

"Yeah," I answer looking back at the motorcycle. "My Dad used to have one when we were little. My Mom forced him sell it for whatever reason."

Jensen takes in a deep breath and walks by me. "I can take you around the block if you want." I am suddenly aware of his closeness. I feel my face burn hotter and I get all tingly down south. I look at Jensen and he's already holding two helmets. I smile and take a helmet and strap it on.

In minutes, I am sitting with my arms wrapped around Jensen. He's backing out of the garage and with a small rev of the motorcycle, we took off. It isn't too fast or too slow. But I still tightened my arms around him and closed my eyes. I have been on a motorcycle a few times but, I still get a knot in my stomach.

When we get back, I take my helmet off and take a deep breath. "That was fun," I say as Jensen manages to slide of the motorcycle. He takes his helmet off as well and I can't help but stare at his sweaty hair. That's when I notice he's been growing out his beard. I can't imagine what it would feel like on my skin. Again, I must be staring to hard or to long because Jensen smiles like he knows what I am thinking.

I swing my legs to the side as he walks towards me. As he reaches for my face I drop the helmet and grab hold of his shirt and pull him closer to me. The moment our lips met, my brain starts to set off firecrackers. It felt like a freaking life time since the last time we kissed.

Jensens hands run down my front to the hem of my shirt. I raise my arms up and he slowly slides off. I do the same to him. I've seen him shirtless a few times on his show and internet pictures but seeing it all in real life, damn! I bite my lips and Jensen licks his lips. I slide off the motorcycle and shimmy out of my shorts and underwear. Jensen watches with lust in his eyes and does the same thing. Jensen grabs my hips and sits me back on the motorcycle as he kisses me deeply. The longer he isn't inside me, I more wet and tingly I become.

As if reading my mind, and without breaking his lips off mine, I feel Jensens fingers slide between my folds and begins to rub it before slipping two fingers inside. I suck in a deep, sharp breath and let out a soft moan. He starts to pull in and out and twist his finger around softly but firmly. In seconds, I am starting to tighten up around his fingers when he pulls them out. I whimper at the lose of contact.

"Not yet," he says against my lips.

Jensen grabs my hips and picks me up. I wrap my legs around him as he slides himself onto the motorcycle. This is going to be interesting and fun. Jensen adjusts us so that we both were somewhat comfortable before lifting me up and positioning me just above his length. I place my hands on his shoulders as he lowers me on him. I close my eyes and drop my head. I hear a low groan come from him as he's fully inside of me. I look up and see him staring right at me.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he says and I smile. His hands grip tight on my hips. They will most likely leave a mark and I am fine with that. He lifts me up and slams me back down. A yelp escaping my mouth.

We repeat that for what I think is nearly a half hour. I am a whimpering mess and trying to hold back my louder moans. Jensen is grunting and the lifting up and down thing, well, thats starting to get irregular and sloppy. Our breathing is getting ragged and the the leather from the seat is start to rub on both our skins. One slam. Two slams. Three slams. I feel myself tighten harder around Jensen. My fingers dig into his shoulders, also going to leave marks. After one more slam into his lap, we both come undone. His arms wrap around me and I drag my nails down his back.

Once our orgasm fade away, I push back and look Jensen in the eyes. "That has got to be the best sex I have ever had," I plant a small and gentle kiss on his lips.

"Good," Jensen smirks. "I got some more ideas for the bedroom later." He must of seen the look on my face, because I am seriously intrigued now. "But first," He slides both of us off the motorcycle. "We should clean up. We have dinner with Jared and his wife."

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seekingseven · 5 years ago

Text

The Most Sincere Kind of Lie (Ch4)

Chapter 4 of my Linked Universe fanfic! Also available to read here on AO3

┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑

Legend woke up to the sound of humming and the disturbing sensation that the fabric of reality was being torn from underneath him. He sputtered and sat upright in the bed, promptly smacking his forehead into Sky's chin.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up," Sky said with a half-lidded smile. "It's just that the lady wanted to wash this bed sheet and I offered to help her out. Somehow Hyrule got cream all over it and she said it'll make the linen go bad." The bleary, confused look on Legend's face was met by a gentle chuckle from the other hero. "You can sleep on one of the other beds, though, if you'd like. We’re not going to be leaving for another half an hour or so.”

It smelled like morning and clouds and screaming, weeping demons. Legend felt his muscles spasm and his eyes roll to the back of his head.

"Woah! Legend, Legend! It's alright. It's alright, look, it's just me. Look, hey! Look here. Look! Listen to me, Legend! Legend! It's me, it's Sky. You know me. It’s alright. It’s okay. Calm down, you’re safe. It’s just me."

The cool metal of the Lens of Truth and the Magic Mirror pressed up against the bones on the underside of Legend's fingers. The skin of his knuckles stretched tight over his bones, and the artifacts’ handles shook under his grip. Everything was blurry. Everything was red. Everything smelled like burning clouds and tears and crippling guilt.

That voice, though...

He knew that voice...

His femur crunched against the bone of his hip socket as his chest tipped forward. He was falling…

Falling..

Falling...

"Hey, I've got you,” Sky cooed. “It's alright. Whatever happened was just a dream, okay? You're okay. It's okay." Unfamiliar fingers ran through his hair. Legend squinted at the blurry form in front of him and, upon recognition, nearly crumpled in relief.

Sky. Oh, it was just Sky. Oh, thank Hylia. It was just Sky. Just the happy, lazy, vaguely irresponsible Sky, who had blue eyes, not orange ones, who had blond hair, not red. Legend’s temple rested against Sky's collarbone for just a moment longer before he pulled himself out of the embrace. His heart wasn't pounding anymore. Legend blinked quickly and got to his feet, trying to walk off the pins-and-needles in his legs, deaf to the words falling out of Sky’s mouth. So many words were said, words of the comforting, meaningless, cliche sort, words he didn't really hear. There was mention of breakfast and travel and laundry and red and green and a blue sword and a broken-hearted hero with a soul so wracked with grief it found no relief outside of self-flagellation. And then the world was black and grey and Legend was left with the sinking, sinking hopelessness that came with knowing you had no control. His breath became short. He blinked quickly. The world came back. Sky kept talking, a confused, sluggish smile creeping back on his face as he mistook the Legend's blank stare for attentiveness. Words, words, more words, and Legend found himself breaking the brief lull in their one-sided conversation.

"Hey, I can take those from you," the veteran heard himself say.

"The bedsheet?" Sky wondered aloud as Legend took the bundled linens out of his hand, "Oh! That's quite nice of you. Are you sure? You don't look too good."

"Mmmm, don't worry about it." The prickly, uncomfortable conviction that he should say more tugged at the hairs at the back of his neck. Sky, clearly baffled but not one to argue about having mundane household chores lifted off his back, shrugged and smiled. The veteran found himself walking downstairs and out to the backyard, where a small tin tub and block of soap stood waiting.

He didn't realize he'd taken the lens and mirror along with him until he dumped the sheet into the tub and heard the tell-tale clank of metal on wood. Oh no. Oh no. Every half-decent mage knew that magic and water rarely mixed: the artifacts’ enchantments were liable to dissolve if left in there for too long. Blood screamed in the small matrix of veins behind his ears, and his hands shot forward into the tub. He pulled both artifacts out of the water before his heart had taken another full beat and neurotically dried them on his tunic. A hot glob of air stuck itself in his throat. Legend coughed dryly. Praise Hylia, both artifacts looked fine.

A demonic, curious part of him hummed with relief.

"Mr. Legend!" a feminine voice cried out behind him, "please don't worry yourself about the linens! Sir, please. I can't have a guest do housework in good conscience." The Wise Man’s daughter crept up next to him and fiddled awkwardly with the corner of her apron. Her face was set in a tight, uncomfortable grimace.

"Ma'am," Legend began with a smile, "please believe me when I say these chores are more of a pleasure to do than anything else. I've been traveling for a long time. It's nice to something normal like this every now and then." His eyes lingered on the white, frothy suds drifting lazily on the top of the water. He turned to face the woman. "However, would you mind terribly if I did ask you a favor?"

"Oh, of course not!"

"Sky and Wind. You know them?"

The woman nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on her face. "Wind is the little one with the blue shirt, and Sky is the, uh..."

"The sleepy, lazy one, yeah." Legend smiled as the woman giggled into her hands. His focus drifted to the blue mountains in the distance. "May you please, if possible, give them something sweet to eat? A pastry, perhaps, or maybe something cold for the journey? I understand if it's not possible, I really do. But, well, don't let them know I told you this, but they've...been through a lot lately. Maybe this would cheer them up a little bit."

The woman's face brightened at the idea. She started to say something, but second-guessed herself and quickly hurried off towards the house. Legend's heart was warmed by her eagerness. It was a good thing to know that people didn't necessarily need the blood of the hero to be altruistic and compassionate. He turned his attention away from the woman and back to the laundry in front of him. The water swirled and burbled happily as Legend gently cleaned the bedsheets. There was something soothing in the repetitive, mindless movements. Scrub, press, check for stains. Repeat. Scrub, press, check for stains. Repeat. Repeat. Watch the cream stains fade and surrender, watch the cloth darken with water. Scrub, press check for stains. The mountains looked so pretty from where he was sitting. Repe--

"Legend!"

The veteran turned around, not at the sound of his name, but at the loud, uneven footsteps he would recognize anywhere.

"....morning," Legend said, suspiciously eyeing the bottle Hyrule carried in his hands. Brownish, clumpy water sloshed around within, and the murky silhouette of what looked like a dead fish floated inside.

"Good morning," Hyrule cheerfully responded. "I got you breakfast!"

"Where is it?" Legend questioned, trying to distract himself from his growing dread.

"Right here!"

Of course.

The bottle.

Legend opened his mouth slowly, carefully picking his next words. "What is it?"

"Fesikh," Hyrule answered. "You've never seen it?"

"Can't say I have."

"It's something like, uh, pickled fish. It's really good, a delicacy, even! The Wise Man’s daughter and I made it just for you!" The excited grin on Hyrule's face started to slip when he saw how Legend shirked away from the bottle.

"Thanks, but I don't think I'll be able to eat that. I haven't -- uh -- I'm not really hungry. Maybe something lighter? Do you guys have any bread and cheese?" The skin of Legend's hands had started to wrinkle and bloat in the soapy water.

"Oh, uh, I think Wild made omelettes. He's in front of the house with the other guys -- Time went out to ask the townspeople if they needed help with anything and we're just waiting for him to come back before we head out."

"Sounds good. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Legend turned back to the soaked bed sheet, which looked mostly clean at this point. The sound of Hyrule's footsteps faded behind him as the veteran hung the sheet up on the laundry wire. He'd done a good job cleaning it; not even a memory of the whipped cream could be found. Legend knelt down in front of the tub and washed his face and neck with the leftover water, scooping the less-sudsy bits of water into his hands and combed it through his hair. It trickled down his neck and along the ridge of his spine, leaving wet spots behind on the back of his tunic. Oh, that felt so much better. He stood up and strung the lens and mirror to his belt. Now that the bedsheet was clean, he might as well go and get breakfast.

The smell of cooked eggs and steamed vegetables was almost too much for Legend's empty stomach to bear. He found himself sprinting around the house and over to Wild and barely refrained from tearing the proffered plate from the latter's hands. There was no doubt in anyone's minds that Legend would have eaten the whole thing with his hands if Four hadn't cautiously extended a set of utensils to him. A wet breeze skittered above the grass. Legend admired the small, careful clusters of horsetail grass that skirted the nearby river as he stuffed his face with breakfast. The other heros chatted quietly amongst themselves, drifting in and out of the house to collect and assemble their things. Warriors dropped off Legend's stuff on the step behind him, muttering something about only doing it because the veteran looked a little bit preoccupied.

A witty response was already building itself on the tip of his tongue but was cut off by the low, authoritative rumble of Time's voice. The Old Man had returned, and the tight look on his face betrayed the fact that he didn't come with good news.

"Alright, boys. From what I could gather, everyone in Saria Town is relatively happy and healthy. However, the River Man said something about a certain Darunia Town seeing a higher frequency of monster attacks than usual. From his description, they seem to be of the infected sort, and some of them have made their way to the city bounds."

Hyrule's eyes went wide at the news. Everyone turned to look at him, this was his Hyrule, after all, and he was the only one who could properly gauge how bad this situation was. And, if the ghostly pallor on his face meant anything, things weren't good.

"We'd better get going quickly, then," Hyrule began. "Darunia Town is in East Hyrule -- we'll have to cross the sea to get there and the closest dock is at least half a day's walk from here."

"Does the town have a militia to fend off the attackers until then?" Four wondered aloud as the group of heros began to pack up.

"Not exactly a militia, more like one knight. He's a very talented knight, of course, but I don't think he can protect the town by himself. The thing that worries me most is that Darunia has more children than any other town in West or East Hyrule."

"They need all the help they can get, then." Twilight asserted. The entire group nodded in agreement. Legend picked himself up off the step and tried not to heave -- this was exactly what happened when one ate too much too quickly -- slinging his bag over his shoulder as he hopped off the porch.

Just as they were all about to leave, the front door swung open and the Wise Man hobbled out.

"Gentlemen! A moment, please. I'm so sorry to disturb you all," the Wise Man apologized as he made slow, unsteady steps down the stairs. "I just need to speak to Mr. Legend about something. Is he still here?"

Legend, who was straggling behind the rest of the group, stuck his hand in the air. After a few seconds of deliberation, the group moved on without him, leaving the veteran with the warning to join them as quickly as the conversation was over. Slowly but surely, the Wise Man made his way over to where Legend stood. A yellow scroll, flaking at the edges, was bundled in his withered hand.

"I wrote the fusion spell down on this scroll, in case you wanted to attempt it once again," the Wise Man explained.

Legend took the scroll in his hand and casually unfurled the edges. He was half-inclined to give it back and explain that he couldn't read (he could, of course, just not anything written in Hyrule's Hylian) but the words died immediately in his throat.

Every word was written perfectly in his Hylian.

"It is a very ancient spell," the Wise Man continued, "so if you think you might have trouble reading it, I've got a dictionary right here that translates Modern Hylian to the Ancient variant."

"It's alright, sir. I can read this just fine."

"Of course, I should have expected no less from a young mage as talented and well-versed in magic as yourself."

Legend's throat burned. His stomach clenched. His fingers shook with adrenaline and his obsessive curiosity rejoiced with him.

"Thank you," Legend heard himself say, "but I don't think I'll have a chance to use it."

He cringed at his own blatant lie.

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The beach's pink stand crunched loudly underneath the multitude of leather boots. Hyrule stood alone on a tiny dock -- not even a dock, really, more of a pathetic outcrop of rotted wood -- and stared at the crystal blue waters ahead.

"Is something wrong?" Sky questioned.

"Yes." Hyrule confessed. "I mean, uh, kind of. I realized just now that my raft probably won't be big enough for all of us." The thin, wiry brunet stepped aside from the doc to reveal a Hyrule-sized wooden raft bobbing in the water. "And the sea isn't safe to swim in...unless you're a River Zora with a, uh, magical force field or something, you won't be able to make it across."

For some reason, this earned a chuckle from Time.

"I mean, we could just make another raft," Wind suggested.

"I've got a few extra bundles of wood with me, as well as some rope. It’s pretty flimsy, though, so if anyone has got binding materials that are a little tougher it might be a good idea to use those instead," Wild said.

"Perhaps we should buy some rope," Warriors mused. The captain turned to Hyrule. "Do you know if there's any place nearby where we can find some?"

"They might sell some sort of fishing rope over in Mido Town," Hyrule said, pointing to the distant shadow in the vague shape of a town. "We can also get lunch from there, since Wild would be using most of his firewood to make the raft."

"Mido Town?" Time mumbled to Legend. "What an odd name."

"I dunno, 'The Water Town of Saria' was also pretty weird."

"I suppose you're right," Time conceded with a wistful smile.

Wild, with Twilight's help, had already laid out a rough raft scaffolding. Four suggested that they just head into the nearby woods to cut down a few trees and expedite the process, but Wind pointed out that the forest was too unfriendly for exploits of the kind.

"Ah, you remembered what I told you about the forest?" Hyrule sheepishly asked Wind.

"Of course. I listen to you when you talk, Hyrule."

This only made the traveler smile wider, but the sailor had already gotten himself knee-deep into a squabble with Warriors.

"Please, Wind, I think I can handle something as simple as overseeing the construction of a raft," Warriors asserted, chin pointed loftily over his shoulder.

"I'm an islander and a sailor!" Wind protested. "I know a thing or two about rafts. I can handle being in charge for three seconds, you know!"

Legend watched the entire exchange with a bitter taste in his throat.

“Wind, just go help Four untie that bundle over there,” Warriors sighed, waving away the indignant sailor glaring up at him. The captain turned his eyes to the rest of the group. “We’ll need two people to go into town to get rope and lunch. Wind, Sky, that will be you guys.”

Legend grinned. This was the perfect opening.

“Hey, Wars, d’ya think I could swap out with Wind?” the veteran questioned off-handedly.

“What, scared of a little hard work? Wait, no, let me guess, you’re scared of rafts? Is that right?” Warriors teased, obviously a little more than irked at the constant questioning of his leadership.

The veteran chuffed at Warriors’ comment and shrugged, blinking slowly and lazily. “Nah, not quite. I haven’t been feeling too good lately, Sky can testify to that,” he said, jerking a thumb towards the smiling Skyloftian, “and I think a little walk would help clear my head. You know? And also, I think the sailor’ll do a much better job of overseeing this than you think. Don’t forget that this guy literally stuck the Master Sword in Ganondorf’s forehead.”

The Links were silent.

Legend smirked so hard that his cheeks hurt.

Wind looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to cry or crush Legend into a massive hug.

“So, what’ll it be, pretty boy?” Legend quipped.

Warriors rolled his eyes, but there was a resigned scarlet flush on the tip of his ears. Legend was sure it wasn’t from the heat.

“Okay, sure, whatever. Wind can supervise. I’ll supervise his supervising. Is that better?”

Everyone nodded in casual agreement, and Wind let out a wild whoop . His eyes met Legend’s for a brief moment, sparkling with gratitude.

For some reason, even this victory wasn’t comforting. It was too temporary of a fix. Legend broke eye contact and looked away.

“Uh, everyone? I-In regards to lunch, do you guys want to know what they sell in Mido Town? I spent a lot of time there during my journey -- they’ve got really good food. If you guys want to, uh, want to choose, I can tell Sky what they have, and he can write a list. Then you guys can choose what you like.”

Everyone was grateful for the diversion Hyrule supplied and crowded around the traveler without a second thought. It was only a matter of minutes before each hero had decided what they wanted, and more than one Link was watering at the mouth at the prospect of lunch.

“So,” Sky began, reading the finalized list out loud, “Time, Wars, and Wild want meat rice, Twi and I want salad, Wind and Four want shrimp, Legend wants, uh….bread?”

“Hey, I‘m not a picky person. Carbs are good for long term energy storage, anyway.” Legend explained. Four hummed in quiet agreement. Sky shrugged and continued on.

“And finally, Hyrule wants...oh dear, I can’t read my handwriting. Hyrule wants… H-A-L-V-A?” Sky said, the questioning inflection thick in his voice.

“Halva!” Hyrule replied cheerfully. “It’s like a really sweet paste. Don’t worry, there’s only one food vendor in the whole town, and he sells all of this stuff. You won’t be able to forget anything even if you tried.”

Sky and Legend looked at each other and shrugged, waving goodbye to the group as they veered off the path and made their way to Mido Town. The thwack of wood-on-wood and the high-pitched shout of Wind’s instructions faded as the two heroes walked on. The sun beat down relentlessly, glinting off the glassy sand and burning into the lacy hair on their heads.

Mido Town was even hotter and quieter than the path leading to it. A sun-baked wind blew through the shells of abandoned buildings, pushing around the crumbled remains of brick and mortar. Pink sand hovered in gritty clouds. It fluffed and plumed up to their waists every time the two heroes took a step. The faint imprints of their footsteps were swept away by a floor-length wind.

The villagers eyed them quietly. No one smiled. No one waved. Blinds closed. Doors shut. If it weren’t for the suspicious, life-weary eyes peering at them through darkened windows, Legend and Sky would have assumed the place to be abandoned.

Was this the kind of treatment Hyrule received during his journeys?

“Are you alright?” Sky queried, only half-looking for the vendor Hyrule had mentioned.

“Mmmm. It’s a great thing to see that this is the world I left behind for Hyrule. Nice to see that this is the fruit of my labors.” Legend’s voice was deadpan and flat despite the obvious ire in his words.

Sky said nothing. Grief flickered across his face.

“This is the world I left behind for all of you,” Sky mumbled to himself. His voice was barely audible over the humming of sifting sand.

“Ugh, Sky, you aren’t to blame for any of this,” Legend said. “And anyway, there isn’t a point in looking for someone to blame. It’s, it’s not going to fix anything. Beating yourself up for something you can’t control isn’t...uh...it isn’t a very smart thing to do.” His voice and thoughts and confidence began to trail off, but Legend forced himself to continue. “Let me just say that you’re so much stronger than you think you are. I, uh, I think Hylia made a wise choice.”

Legend turned to his companion and rested a hand on Sky’s shoulder. He had no more words left to say, nothing left inside his brain but the overwhelming conviction that he should be doing more. Should he confess? Should he tell Sky that he knew -- that he knew so much more than he should? That he knew everything Sky was trying to hide?

His soul fragmented under the weight of his guilt.

Sky gently curled his fingers around Legend’s wrist. His thumb rested on a vein on the underside of the veteran’s arm, and his breathing slowed to keep time with the blood’s calm thrum. A tear dribbled off Sky’s face and landed in the hot dust below, darkening and clumping the fine grains together. Eyes, dark and dull and unbelieving and flashing with ghostly wisps of orange, glittered with tears. Legend squeezed Sky’s shoulder and pulled away, lost for words and lost in thought.

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

#linkeduniverse #lu #loz #fanfiction

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anzu-kaiba · 4 years ago

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The Seven Labors of Mokuba Kaiba - Easter Egg Explainer Pt. 4/7

I peppered The Seven Labors of Mokuba Kaiba, my recent 15-chapter, 60,450+ word Yu-Gi-Oh! fanfic (written for YGOME and NaNoWriMo) with all kinds of references. Some of them are just for fun, while others can help you get a sneak peek into future chapters or elements of the world.

READ THE FIC HERE

See how many you spotted in Chapters 7-8!

The organization Isis is part of in the Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters anime is specifically called the “Egyptian Archaeological Society,” rather than the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities, which is probably the real-life analogue to this organization. I’ve read a lot of fics where Isis is given the same job as famous Egyptologist and former Secretary General of the Supreme Council of Antiquities. While there’s nothing wrong with that headcanon, I feel like it doesn’t quite work with her being from the Gravekeeper’s Clan and the specific tomb they were charged with, well, keeping. I got the impression Isis hadn’t been out in the world all that much more than Malik had, and she certainly wouldn’t have been able to get the kind of education such a post would require by age 20, especially for the years while Mr. Ishtar was still around; he made it very clear that he firmly believed in a patriarchal society, and that women could not be leaders of any kind. Even after he died, she still had a job to do. Plus, her having that role doesn’t take into account the real-world political events and attitudes in Egypt at the time, and since I tend to write a sort of “magical realism” in my fics, I wanted to take that into account.

I tried to research how one answers the phone in Egypt (and later in the fic, in German), but I still needed to know how to romanize it (put the sounds into English letters), and I’m not sure if I did a halfway decent job. If you speak/read Arabic, please let me know how I can improve it!

One of the things that always bothered me about Duel Monsters was how it was never ONLY Yuugi’s story; it was also Jounouchi’s, and Honda’s, and Anzu’s, and Kaiba’s, and Mokuba’s, and on and on and on. We got the most depth from them, compared to say, Mai, or other folks like Haga and Ryuuzaki, and I wanted to see them deal with the trauma they went through, whether it’s “death of a friend” or “kidnapping” or “having your soul ripped out of your body” or “being mind-controlled.” Can you imagine being a therapist in Domino? That’s why a lot of my fics deal with the more realistic aspects of the universe, without forgetting that it is, at its heart, a fantasy about a puzzle that granted a boy his wish for real friendship.

Studio Dice is a reference to Yu-Gi-Oh! creator Kazuki Takahashi’s company. I figured it fit as a name for Otogi’s company, too.

This is the game Otogi is advertising at the exhibition:

I didn’t actually PLAN to address trauma in the story, and I found myself surprised when Mokuba wanted to bond with Malik a little bit. Out of all the cast members to have something in common with Malik and what he did, I really didn’t expect it to be Mokuba! But in this universe, I can actually see them becoming good friends.

I may have mentioned it earlier, but one of the issues I have with Dark Side of Dimensions is that Kaiba is so obsessed with defeating Atem, or at least dueling him one more time, that he sacrificed everything he created or held onto to GET him there. There would have been no space elevator, no Quantum Cube, none of that, if he hadn’t built Kaiba Land, if he hadn’t dueled Yuugi. Obviously, manga!Kaiba is a touch more psychotic than the anime one, and since that’s who DSOD!Kaiba is, I guess it’s kind of understandable. But I hate thinking that there’s a very real possibility that he wouldn’t return from his trip to the “afterlife” dimension, and Mokuba, just turned into a teenager, would be entirely on his own. That the anime intentionally had him move past those events and focus on making the world a better place for kids like himself and Mokuba, before they got adopted, is one reason why I prefer to write in the anime!verse. I imagine Mokuba’s thought processes in the manga also differ, since before Seto got “Mind Crushed,” he was quite cruel, even to Mokuba.

I think Malik and Mokuba are likely to be more open with their feelings, considering everything they’ve gone through. None of this “men don’t show their feelings; those are SOFT and for GIIIIIRRRLS” crap. Also Mokuba is a Cancer and balances really well against Malik’s stubborn Capricorn nature, so.

Mokuba recalling Seto’s attitude toward social events is both a setup for the end of the fic and Seto’s behavior in the upcoming fic Love and the Art of Schmoozing, where a company holiday party is a central event in the story.

Things “sparking joy” is a reference to professional organizer Marie Kondo’s book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up and its sequel, Spark Joy.

“Impossible things to do before breakfast each morning” is a reference to Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland.

The announcement for the Schroeder Corporation Alpine Rose Cup is based off a similar announcement Konami made for a past Yu-Gi-Oh! TCG Championship. I came up with the name “Alpine Rose” since the Bavarian Alps in Germany features in the story, and roses are a common motif with Siegfried von Schroeder.

This is the “beginner driver’s mark” I was referring to: 🔰

Mokuba’s accidental use of 🍑🍆💦 for Anzu’s entry in his phone book was NOT something I planned, but I found it too hilarious to cut. Also, I think even Mokuba’s Stanford roommates may have been a bit naïve, or perhaps wanted to maintain Mokuba’s innocence a bit longer, since “booty call” isn’t quite what those emoji mean...

Headcanons vary on whether Mokuba is a ladies’ man or not. I’ve also read that Seto has “hired” women to help him take care of his “urges,” but I think in the Schmoozeverse, Mokuba is charming but doesn’t sleep around (I see him as the type to want an actual relationship), and Seto acts pretty asexual, but might actually be demi.

At first, I didn’t know where Seto went on his vacation, or what he did there. But I now have an idea, and it might show up as another standalone story in the Schmoozeverse, perhaps sometime next Halloween (it’s kind of a ghost story).

Prof. Zweinstein is a reference to a character seen in Yu-Gi-Oh! GX, and it’s where we first hear of concepts like “Duel Physics.” Don’t ask me what it is, I have no idea. Also Zwinstein is a pun, not just on the name Einstein (which translates to “One Stone” in German), but the meaning of the words: Zwei meaning “two,” so he’s Prof. Two Stone.

I owe both the name of Malik’s baking channel and the musical Anzu and Mokuba both produced to my husband (who also happens to be a bread-making aficionado). THANKS, HONEY! ❤️

As with the Arabic in the last chapter, forgive me if I’ve butchered German in Chapter 8.

I imagine Leon was written specifically to make Siegfried seem that much more of a mirror to/foil of Seto. I see him as basically like Mokuba in terms of devotion to an elder brother, but Leon answers the “what if Mokuba dueled?” question (which we never see him do, outside of a very truncated duel during Duelist Kingdom in the anime, during the Capsule Monsters arc in the manga, and in Duel Links). So they have a lot in common, just as much as I envision Malik and Mokuba might.

I don’t actually have a headcanon as to what’s happening in the years since Jounouchi and Mai tag-teamed before Mai basically retired from dueling altogether, but I imagine they have met up, although probably not alone, or for very long. That’s the only way I can imagine it making sense where Honda would think Mai was in Germany, and Jounouchi would say that they “must have just missed each other” when Mai was on her way to Paris from Milan.

Jounouchi is 100% an overprotective older brother; that’s canon. But I thought it would be funnier if he DID know all about Honda’s plan to propose to Shizuka, even if he hasn’t talked to him or Shizuka in a while. He did, after all, issue the ultimatum to Honda, so I imagine he at least thought out the possibility of what would happen if Honda chose not to break up with Shizuka just because Jounouchi told him to. Maybe in a future fic, I’ll have Honda and Shizuka’s wedding, or Shizuka chewing Jounouchi out for something. 😈

99.9% of all romantic plots and their point of conflict stems from a lack of communication. Even without being in a committed relationship, I see Mokuba as being wise enough to realize that open communication is key to any good relationship. It has, after all, gotten him this far in his chain of deals!

#azurite #7lmk #ygome #ygome20 #nanowrimo #mokuba kaiba #yu-gi-oh #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #schmoozeverse

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prism-sakura-s · 5 years ago

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Gingerbread Houses

Chapter 1: A Night of Decision

Prompt: Fake Relationship for the Holidays

Warnings: sympathetic remus and deceit (his name is Nathaniel here), pressure, mentions of murder, decapitation, and gutting

Pairings: Eventual romantic Intrulogical, (background) established queerplatonic Prinxiety, (background) pining Moceit

< > AO3

A/N: Here it is! My second fic for @sanderssidescelebrations‘ ts holiday month! Finished just before the last day of Christmas (in America). As such, this whole thing is pretty much raw and... unpolished. Sorry about that. Hopefully y’all find it decent lmao

“Oh yes, how could we have seen that one coming?” Nathaniel drawled sarcastically, lounging on the couch and exasperatedly watching Logan pace across the living room. “It’s not like your mom, who birthed a brainy powerhouse, also has a strong memory of her own, as she has demonstrated many times before.”

“Come on, Nath, give Logan a break,” Patton urged in a kind but firm tone. “It was a simple mistake.”

“A simple mistake I should not have overlooked!” Logan hissed desperately.

“See? He agrees anyway,” Nathaniel said, shrugging.

Patton sighed.

“Well, what are you going to do?” Virgil asked, zir feet draped across Roman’s legs. “You just gonna tell your parents you lied?”

Logan paled. “Oh, definitely not,” he said. “They hate it when I lie.”

“So then what, Single Bell?” Roman inquired, clearly entertained by Logan’s befuddled state. “Perhaps say you broke up with your mysterious lover. Holds up the lie while eradicating it completely at the same time.”

“No, just tell them you accidentally murdered your boyfriend!” Remus suggested gleefully. “And then make up a sob story as to why exactly you did it, along with a graphic description of how! I suggest gutting and decapitation.”

“But what if they find out you lied in the future?” Virgil asked, ignoring Remus completely. “You eradicate their trust that way.”

“They are… rather sensitive souls.” Logan grimaced. “There isn’t much I can do about this situation, is there?”

“How about feeding the lie?” Nathaniel proposed.

All heads in the room turned to him.

“What do you mean?” Patton asked.

“Bring someone along for the stay, tell your parents he’s your boyfriend,” Nathaniel elaborated. “And then say you broke up after, so you don’t have to keep up the act. Easy peasy.”

“You’re just stealing a very popular fanfic trope,” Virgil pointed out. “I believe that’s called a ‘Fake Dating AU’, wherein the two characters in a fake relationship almost always fall in love by the end. If you’re looking to avoid that, I don’t think that would be the best way to go.”

“Ah, but that’s in the fanfic world, dear Vee,” Nathaniel countered. “We-- wipe that scowl off your face Roman, it’s just a simple nickname-- We are not in a fanfiction, as far as I’m aware. And I think you’re forgetting that Logan here is a master at not feeling extreme emotions. Who says it won’t turn out differently? We’re just employing the tactic, not the plot.”

“That is a good point,” Patton agreed. “What do you think, Lo?”

“That could be a solution,” Logan mused. “But… are any of you available?”

Silence fell upon the room... for about a second before it was quickly broken by Remus.

“Ro-ro and Virgey-poo are busy platonically smooshing booties, Patton’s family are kidnapping him so they can go to the Philippines to talk with unfamiliar and uncomfortably prying relatives, and your mom loves eye-murdering Nathaniel, so I’d say most of us are unavailable.”

Logan stared at Remus for a while, carefully putting together the information. “So.. all are unavailable… except for you.”

Virgil coughed into zir sleeve several times. Patton’s eyes widened. Roman looked genuinely panicked. Nathaniel merely smirked.

Logan considered his option. Truth to be told, although Logan has hung out with everyone a decent amount of times, he’d say Remus was the one he was least close with. Remus was... endearing in a certain way, although Logan couldn’t really pinpoint why. The guy was honest, observant and had a very expanse knowledge of murder techniques, but that’s about all Logan knew about him.

“I’m a little worried you might… unnerve my parents,” Logan admitted. “Er, no offense but, your interests are very… disturbing to most.”

“Not to Jeffrey Dahmer they wouldn’t be.”

Logan sighed quietly. Was Remus really his only option?

“Aww, pwease Newdy Wowvewine?” Remus cooed, pouting and trying to make puppy eyes. “I pwomise I’ww be a vewy good boy in fwont of youw mommy! And even behind the doow! And on youw be-”

“Okay, you definitely cannot take him with you with that kind of behavior,” Roman protested. “Just tell your parents the truth, Single Bell Twunk!”

“You just made the same joke as Single Bell,” Virgil said.

“It was a variation! Logan, you are a very dear friend to me, and I will not see your dignity and reputation spoiled by my rabid gremlin of a brother!”

“Don’t listen to him, Tech Weenie!” Remus scoffed, casually raising his foot to behind his head. “I sincerely, candidly, earnestly, unequivocally-- you like that last word? It’s a big word, turns you on doesn’t it-- promise to pretend to be your boyfriend for your one week visit to your parents, in an appropriate manner, so their hearts will not be torn to shreds. Rip my heart out, cross it, and-” he giggled, “-swear to die.”

On that note, Logan needed a fake date to please his mother, and he supposed this would be a good opportunity for some bonding with Remus Reule.

Nathaniel sipped some sparkling wine begrudgingly, as the others did not want him to get drunk the night before he drove Patton to the airport. He still drank it out of a wine glass though, because that’s exactly the kind of bitch he was. Nathaniel listened to the clinking of the kitchenware and the stream of water from the faucet as Patton washed the last of the dishes. Everyone else had headed off to their respective rooms, except for Roman, who stayed with Virgil.

“Is it really a good idea?” Nathaniel heard Patton mumble from the kitchen.

“What is?”

Nathaniel saw Patton flinch a little, as if the latter wasn’t expecting someone to actually hear him.

“Er, the plan with… Logan and… Remus…” Patton trailed off.

Nathaniel hummed and took another sip of his drink. He savored the fizziness before swallowing, then went on to swirl the sparkling wine for fun. No, he totally wasn’t trying to buy more time so he could continue to stay in the room with Patton. That would be ridiculous.

What was Patton concerned about again? Oh, right.

“Logan can handle Remus alone for a week,” Nathaniel reassured. “Have you seen the man? Hardly anything disturbs him. He could find a corpse and go, ‘Oh someone was murdered here. That is normal. Better call the cops and assess the body for research. Bleep bloop.’”

“Naaaaath, that’s not nice,” Patton berated, though Nathaniel could hear a smile in his voice.

“I’m just saying, if anyone can stay with Remus for a week with no other company but their parents and not go crazy, that person would be Logan,” Nathaniel said.

"Although…" he continued, "I’m a little curious to see if there will be a sort of… romantic outcome, in the end. It is certainly a possibility.”

Both of the persons in the room knew the implications of what Nathaniel was talking about, but none bothered to voice the shared knowledge.

“If there is… it’ll be quite surprising,” Patton chuckled breathily.

Nathaniel raised the glass to his lips only to find it empty, not to his dismay at all. He sighed and brought it over to Patton, who proceeded to wash it as well. Small “goodnight”s were exchanged between the two, and Nathaniel headed off to turn in.

“Oh boy,” Patton said to himself as he heard Nathaniel’s door close, “Logan’s gonna have an interesting week.”

Taglist: @omgsomeonesomewhereonearth

#sanders sides #sanders sides holiday celebration #sanders sides holiday celebration 2019 #intrulogical #logan sanders #remus sanders #ts logan #ts remus #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #ts intrulogical #thomas sanders #lilyywrites

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julietandcinderellavocaloid · 5 years ago

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Broken Juliet Chapter 1

Author’s Note: Hello, beautiful people! May I present to you the prequel to my Vocaloid fanfic Blood Rose! It’s not necessary to read BR before reading this, but there will be some world building lacking as a result. Not a lot, so you should be fine.

This novella follows one of the characters, Rin, living through the events that lead her to where she is at the start of Blood Rose. Rin seems to be everyone’s favorite character in the main fic. Now it’s time to learn how she became the person she is in that novel.

Broken Juliet is Rin’s story, and it isn’t a happy one.

Trigger warnings for physical abuse and character death.

I do not own Vocaloid in any way, shape, or form. This fanfic purely exists for non-profit entertainment purposes. Enjoy!

Scrunching up her face, sixteen-year-old Kagamine Rin studied the cabbage. After deeming it satisfactory, she added it and others of similar quality to her basket. She also picked up a few turnips and walked to the counter to make her purchase.

"Will that be all?" asked the clerk, a look of disinterest on his face. Rin nodded to answer. When the clerk totaled the costs, he told Rin, "That will be thirteen coin."

"Thirteen?!" Rin exclaimed. "I spoke with Aoki Merli earlier today, and she told me she paid less than half for the same things I'm getting."

"Yes," the clerk agreed, "but Aoki Merli is an Alice."

Rin grit her teeth. "Are you truly going to discriminate against me like this?"

"I need to make sales one way or another. Now either pay seventeen coin, or get out of here."

"It's seventeen coin now?"

"Twenty since you insist in arguing with me."

Jaw clenched, Rin stared at the man for more than a moment. What she wanted to do was walk away without making the purchase. It's what she would have done if she wasn't required to get everything on her shopping list. Rin had to get the items regardless of their price. The clerk knew it as well as she did.

Without a word, Rin slammed the twenty coins onto the counter, picked up her basket, spun on her heel, and walked out of the shop. She covered her eyes and squinted at the sunlight as she stepped outside and waited for her eyes to adjust before she continued with her errands. There was barely enough coin now to buy a new cloth pattern, but perhaps Ms. Yuezheng would feel generous and offer Rin half a pattern now and the rest when Rin could afford it.

Rin kicked up the dirt road as she went. The wooden shacks dotted the town, and many of the villagers walked on foot from business to business, either running errands like Rin or moving to the next job. Laughter and chatter filled the warming air. The boys and Alice girls played outside of the schoolhouse, making the most of their recess. Women gossiped over their bread and cheese as they sat under their tent, their sowing left unattended for now.

Just the sight of the bread alone made Rin's stomach growl with earnest. Before Rin bought the produce, she had hoped to use the leftover coin to buy a pork bun for her first meal of the day, but now she would have to wait till she cooked dinner that evening to taste even a morsel. With a heavy sigh, Rin kept marching to her next destination.

"Rin!"

Freezing at the shout of her name, Rin slowly turned around to see Mr. Chris waving her over. She didn't want to think about what the gruff blacksmith wanted with her, but she approached anyway. The last thing she needed was another complaint filed against her reaching her father.

Yet Mr. Chris, a tall man with black skin who was mostly muscle and had an ugly scar disfiguring the right side of his face, didn't seem upset at Rin for whatever reason that had been dreamed up since the last time someone, namely Luki, wanted to cause her trouble. Instead he looked to be displeased with the young man by his side. The young man shifted from foot to foot, seemingly more out of energetic restlessness than concern over this big man glaring at him.

"Yes, sir?" Rin questioned, switching her basket to her other arm.

Mr. Chris, whose arms were crossed, used his chin to point at the other guy. "This lad here is looking for your father's farm. Your father's still looking for more helping hands, right?"

"Yes, sir." Rin turned her attention to the young man by Mr. Chris's side. He was a tall, skinny fellow who looked more like a scarecrow than a person. Unless he was applying to scare birds and other pests away from the vegetation, she doubted he would get the job. The poor soul didn't look as if he could hold a rake he was so thin.

"Then he can follow you home." With that, Mr. Chris waved his hand in the air as if wiping off an item on his to-do list. He turned away, and that was the end of the exchange.

The young man turned to Rin and grinned, and she used the opportunity to study him a little more. He had olive skin, dirty blond hair that stuck out in every which way, and golden eyes. His clothes fit far too loosely, giving away just how gawky he was. Nothing about this man made him appear qualified to work on her father's farm. She was never going to see him again.

"Nice to meet ya!" the young man greeted, sounding far too cheerful, as he and Rin walked away from the blacksmith's shop. "Name's Akita Nero. You are?"

He doesn't know what I am then. Okay, good. It's been a long while since I had decent conversation with a stranger.

"Kagamine Rin," she told him. Nero held out his hand, and Rin hesitated a moment before taking it. After Nero gave her hand a firm shake, Rin pulled away and asked, "Where are you from?"

"Tangerice," he answered.

"Isn't that village far from here?"

"Only by twenty miles. I was looking for work when Kagamine Leon's want ad reached the border of town. When I caught wind of it, I grabbed my purse and came straight here."

"Did you walk the whole way?"

"Yep. Stopped last night to rest, then woke up before dawn to finish the journey."

Not sure what to make of Nero's chirpy attitude, Rin said, "Well, your journey is nearly over. The farm is a twenty-minute walk from here. Follow me and—"

"Pardon the interruption," Nero cut in, "but were ya running errands when that scary man called ya over?"

"I can do them later. It's really no trouble."

"Nah, finish them now," Nero replied. "I don't mind the wait. Ya said it's only a twenty-minute walk from here? That's nothing! Ya do what ya need to do before we head that way."

Rin wanted to argue, but she knew arguing wouldn't end well if he saw her left wrist. Even if he really was kind enough to insist Rin finish her errands first, she still didn't want to risk it. Of course, this man was new to town and likely wouldn't stay after not getting the job. Never seeing him after this interaction motivated her to be a little careless in conversation. Although she knew better, Rin held her left arm in a way to hide her exposed wrist as she gave in.

Working quickly in case Nero lacked patience, Rin dropped off her letters at the church before Pastor Fukase knew she stopped by and visited Ms. Yuezheng's shop to buy, to her relief, half a cloth pattern. Rin folded the cloth and stepped outside the tent. When she didn't see Nero, Rin looked around and tried to swallow her heart.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to ditch ya," Nero suddenly called out, causing Rin to jump. A pork bun in each hand, he explained, "I smelt something good and thought I'd give it a try."

Rin looked at his hands and asked before she realized her mouth was open, "You're going to eat two?" She couldn't even afford one. There was nothing left in her coin purse.

That was why it surprised Rin when Nero held a hand out and answered, "Actually, I bought one for ya, as a thanks for taking me to your father's farm. Well, I know we're not there yet, but we will be soon so I guess an early payment isn't too big a deal. Unless ya aren't hungry?"

Feeling her stomach tie itself into knots at the sight of the very thing she wanted for lunch being offered to her, Rin greatly desired to accept the pork bun. Yet she didn't trust this man, and she especially didn't trust his kindness.

"I did already eat, but thank you regardless," she said, her stomach tightening so hard it hurt. It was as if her body punished her for refusing the food she badly needed. Rin reminded her stomach it was better to starve in safety than to feast in beatings.

Nero shrugged before biting into the first pork bun. The sight too painful to watch, Rin turned away and told him that she was done with her errands and they would be going to her father's farm now. He followed close behind, finishing the first pork bun and then eating the second.

After he had devoured both pork buns, Nero began conversing with Rin. "So, what do ya grow on the farm? What kind of help does your pa need?"

"We need help picking our cherry trees and also preparing the soil to plant butternut squash, sweet potatoes, and pumpkins. Maintain the crops all through summer, and then harvest in autumn just in time for the Celebration of Colors."

Nero nodded along as Rin spoke. He didn't ask about wages or if housing was provided. Instead he asked, "Will I get to see more of ya if I get a position?"

Cheeks heating up, Rin answered Nero's question with one of her own. "Why are you asking something so insane?"

"Is it insane to want to spend more time with ya and get to know ya?"

So he hadn't seen her tattoo yet after all, and Rin didn't help the situation by keeping it hidden against her body. However, she really wanted to talk to someone who saw her as another person too much to be more rational. "You're being too forward, Mr. Akita."

"Please, call me Nero, and I apologize if it seems I'm being forward. It's only that you're the first person I met in this town – well, not including the blacksmith – and I would like to think we could be good friends if given the opportunity."

"You don't want to be friends with me." Rin regretted saying the words, but she didn't doubt their truth.

Nero didn't ask why Rin thought that, however. What he said was, "I think I should at least get to know ya before deciding whether or not I want to be friends with ya. Does Mistress Kagamine not wish to be friends with me?"

"I'm no mistress. Just Rin is more than fine."

"Okay, does Just Rin not wish to be friends with me?"

Despite herself, Rin snorted. "You are persistent."

"Ya haven't answered my question."

"Very well. Like you, I would need to get to know you before I can decide whether or not I want to be friends with you."

"And will there be opportunities for us to get to know each other?"

"I fail to see why this is so important to you."

"Perhaps this is important to me because I think you're interesting."

"Interesting?" Rin looked at Nero from the corner of her eye to see him smiling widely at her.

"I know first impressions don't tell a lot about a person," he began, "but my first impression of ya when the blacksmith called ya over was how pretty ya are."

Rin ducked her head down. If her burning cheeks was an indication, she didn't want Nero seeing her blush.

"Next was you seemed rather passive," Nero continued, either ignoring or oblivious to her turned away face. "Now, as it's only the two of us around, ya seem rather outspoken. Interesting indeed. I'm curious to know if you're strong-willed or without agency, and if the former, why ya pretend otherwise with an audience."

He still hasn't figured it out yet. "And if you get your answer," Rin replied, "what then?"

"I would like to find out if my other impressions are correct."

"Other impressions?"

"Calm, level-headed, easily fed up with the likes of me—"

"I'll tell you now that last one is correct," Rin stated, laughing. She then slammed her jaw shut.

However, Nero didn't seem offended. He simply laughed as well and added, "Blunt, too. I can respect that."

"Most people don't. They like to be told what they want to hear."

"Not me."

"What if you don't like what you hear?"

"If I'm going to take offense at every comment that doesn't agree with me, then I'm too emotionally immature to have valid arguments and opinions."

As her cheeks no longer felt flushed, Rin turned her attention back to the young man. He was smarter than he looked, that much was now evident. Yet there was still a skip to his step, his arms swinging carefree by his sides. There didn't seem to be any burdens of life on his shoulders. Either that, or he carried them well.

"I think you're the interesting one here, Mr. Nero," Rin slowly replied, looking away again.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"I'll leave that for you to decide." Before Nero could reply, Rin announced, "We're here."

"Thank ya again for guiding me," Nero said as they stopped. He moved to stand in front of Rin, reached out, and took her free right hand. "I hope this won't be the last time I see ya."

Rin didn't expect Nero to kiss the back of her hand, that was why she was too stunned to yank it out of his grasp. He smiled as he dropped it soon after. If nobody had seen it, that would have been the end.

Only somebody did see.

And that wasn't the end.

What was meant to be a simple expression of gratitude was going to be a crime for which Rin would be punished.

It was from the corner of her eye Rin saw him coming. She jumped away from Nero, her heartrate shooting up. Pointing out the approaching man, Rin told Nero that the newcomer was her father.

Kagamine Leon glared at his daughter as he grew closer. Yet when he was within earshot, he called out, "Greetings, young man! What is your business here?"

"Greetings, Mr. Kagamine!" Nero returned, grinning the way he did at Rin back in town. "I'm Akita Nero from Tangerice. I saw your want ad and immediately was on my way. Tell me, do ya still need a hand?"

Looking Nero up and down, Leon clearly had the same initial thoughts Rin had. However, he couldn't deny Nero employment without first seeing what the young man had to offer. It was a law that never worked in Rin's favor, but perhaps it would give Nero a chance.

"Go inside the house and begin your chores," Leon told his daughter. Nero couldn't see it, but Rin could and did.

Rin forced herself to swallow. "Yes, father."

As she treaded to the house, she heard her father tell Nero, "I'm so sorry Rin had to be the first you met here. I promise, employment here won't be a shame for you to bear. My daughter is the only Juliet on this farm."

Not hearing Nero's reaction nor wanting to hear it, Rin kept marching forward. Now that Nero knew, he would be repulsed and wonder why he didn't seek out the blood rose tattoo on her left wrist sooner. That's how the story always ended for Rin's potential friends.

And that, Nero, is why you don't want to be friends with me, Rin silently told the young man as she walked farther and farther away from the first and last taste of kindness from a stranger she experienced in a long, long time.

#Juliet and Cinderella #Broken Juliet #Kagamine Rin #Rin Kagamine #Akita Nero #Nero Akita #Rin X Nero #Nero X Rin #Rinero #Vocaloid fanfic

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hestiamuse · 5 years ago

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He Sways, a Good Omens fanfic

Aziraphale didn't question why Crowley was still hanging around the bookshop. It was still early enough in their marriage that the novelty of togetherness hadn't worn off. Not by a long shot! What he didn't understand was why he seemed content to simply watch him do inventory. Once a year, he took a tally of his books, and attempted at organizing them. Unfortunately, this couldn't be done with a simple miracle or he'd never find anything. Crowley had offered to help a few times, in varying, declining tones of sincerity, but Aziraphale insisted that he had a system, thank you for the kind offer, but no assistance was required.

So, Crowley was content just to watch, his sunglasses slid up on top of his head, not hiding the fact that he was staring. It was his absolute favorite day of the year, and it was all because of a certain angel's inability to stand still. As he counted and realphabetized and sorted his hoard, he had an unconscious tic that drove Crowley wild. He swayed, he shimmied, he wiggled back and forth. Crowley had to muffle his aroused groans as he admired him. Like some exotic bird doing a mating dance. Those contented little pivots as he pondered thoughtfully among the dusty bookcases. He looked perfectly scrumptious.

Those legs, those hips! The demon was helpless to Aziraphale's unintended charm. He slouched loosely in his seat, holding his head up on his hand, elbow propped on a knee, still in danger of utter collapse. Each twitch and swivel, each shift of weight from foot to foot held him in rapt attention. And he'd be doing this all day! Crowley wished he'd thought to bring a decent camera, but he shot a short video on his phone just to keep with him.

“Crowley? What in the blazes are you sighing about in there?”

“You,” he answered honestly. “That cute twitchy dance you're doing while you work.”

Aziraphale stopped cold, getting a disappointed noise from his audience. “The what?”

“Oh, don't stop, angel, it's adorable,” Crowley said in his low, lazy voice as he crept into the front room.

Aziraphale looked incredulous, not to mention self-conscious. He looked hard at his husband, trying to determine if he was making fun of him. “It is?” Crowley nodded eagerly. “Do I...do I do this...often?”

The very turned-on demon slouched carelessly against a nearby bookcase with his arms folded over his chest. “Yeah, well, 'snot all the time...but when you're happy...sometimes when you're nervous. Good way to gauge your mood, really. I like your happy wiggles.”

“Why didn't you tell me about this sooner? How long have you noticed me doing this??” Aziraphale sounded annoyed that he had such a prominent tic that he didn't even realize. He made a conscious effort to tamp down his sudden impulse to do his “nervous wiggle”. It was strange, now that he was aware of it, he wondered how he could have ever missed it! He gripped the shelf he stood at until his knuckles turned white, his feet planted firmly on the floor, forcing himself to stand still! It surprisingly took a considerable effort!

“You've done it as long as I've known you. I figured you knew. Look, I'm sorry I said anything. I didn't mean to make you all self conscious.” Regret was clear in his voice, making Aziraphale certain that he was never laughing at him about this. “I like it, that's all.”

“Well,” the angel sniffed haughtily, “like it or not, I'm going to try to break the habit. I don't want to look...ridiculous.” In his mind, he could hear Uriel calling him that, that scornful sneer on their face. Aziraphale cringed. “What else do I do? What else do I do that's...different?”

Crowley sighed. This wasn't going the way he wanted. He'd meant to pay his husband a compliment, and now it looked like he'd never see his happy little dance again. “Promise you won't stop doing this one, too?”

“Depends.”

“You sparkle.”

“I what?!”

“Not—not like Tinkerbell or anything, but...when you do that smile and your eyes light up like stars...you sparkle,” Crowley explained, trying to describe it to such a downcast version of his beloved was difficult. The creature that stood apologetically before him looked like he'd never sparkled in his life. “Come on, Az. I hate to see you so down. Look, I made a video. It's really steamy, actually.” He hit play and showed him his screen.

Aziraphale watched the short video that Crowley had shot of him shelving books and doing his little shimmy. He looked in disbelief from the screen to his husband. “That?! You think that's...steamy?” He unconsciously gave his hips a little twitch as if in sympathy with the image on the screen. Crowley smiled. “No. Crowley, no. Oh, lord, do you think other people noticed?”

“What other people, angel? How many other people have we been around enough for them to pick up on your little twitches? And if they did, so what? Either they couldn't possibly care less, or they thought it was cute, too. Nobody's going to make fun of you for the way you move.”

“You said I did it when I'm nervous.”

“Well, yeah, sometimes. Especially if you're lying, or giving an answer you don't like.”

Aziraphale got to the real issue. “So...they probably saw,” he gave the ceiling a significant glance.

Crowley spluttered meaninglessly. “Y—w—ugh....So what if they did? They can't control you anymore. You don't answer to them anymore. You don't answer to anyone anymore! You're in charge! You don't have to give a damn about what anyone else thinks.” And with that, he stalked back into the lounge, throwing himself back onto the sofa, furious with himself for bringing it up.

For a minute, Aziraphale just stood there, then he went back to work, keeping a tight rein on his impulses this time. He winced. Now that he wasn't letting himself move naturally, it felt wrong. In his effort to keep his bottom half still, he found it creeping up into his shoulders. He heaved a sharp breath as he strove for control...then brought a fist down into the shelf with a frustrated growl.

Crowley grimaced, tutted, and shook his head. Then, he grinned to himself as he got an idea. He wound up Aziraphale's old gramophone and put on some Tchaikovsky, slowly turning the volume up until he was certain it would be heard across the room.

Aziraphale heard music...slowly he relaxed and smiled, this record was one of his favorites. He adored waltzes. He let out a relieved sigh, as if he felt the sweet music soak right into his soul. Aziraphale closed his eyes and waved a finger in the air in time to the music with a happy little hum. “Right, back to work,” he muttered to himself. He went back to his clipboard and his books, sorting and counting. He didn't realize when his movements started to slide into ¾ time. A little music certainly helped with the task at hand, and beat back the dull monotony, not to mention it soothing away his frustration. He hoped that Crowley would remember to flip the record or at least start it again when it had run out.

He hummed along pleasantly, not even stopping himself when he realized exactly what his demonic husband had done. He had to admit that this felt better, more in tune with his nature, and there was no need to stop just because someone noticed. Aziraphale crossed the doorway, grinning naughtily to himself as he willfully performed a temptation. He let his hips wiggle as he began inventorying the next shelf...then he turned to Crowley and sparkled.

Crowley looked like he'd died and gone to Heaven, watching those smooth, gliding, swaying motions set to music. It gave him a touch of pride that Hell had gotten Tchaikovsky in the end. He sighed helplessly as he longed to grab those hips that wiggled so enticingly. That adorable tummy that just stuck out over his waistband...He was the happiest infernal creature in all the world.

“So, what do I do? Do I do anything like that?” Crowley was suddenly curious what he didn't know about himself. If something that big could escape Aziraphale's notice for all this time, he was bound to have something!

“Hmm? Oh, you mean apart from your walk?”

“My walk?”

“Mm. Like you don't have any bones in your legs.” Aziraphale smiled, “It's cute. It's you. I like it, it's...snakey.” He flashed another mischievous smile at him before turning his attention back to the task at hand, feeling content that they were now even.

He carried on working for another hour or two, until he'd actually forgotten Crowley's observations altogether. Until he heard a rasping, gliding sound across the floor. He caught a split-second glimpse of a large black snake, and the next thing he knew, Crowley had his arms wrapped around his waist, his face pressed against his neck, groaning low in his throat.

“Please, may I have this dance?”

This fic is brought to you by this gif set https://dailygoodomens.tumblr.com/post/185678181658/lesbianomens

#ineffable husbands #wiggles #domesticity

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lurafita · 5 years ago

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Petvengers Chapter 3

Read chapter 1 here: Chappy 1

Read chapter 2 here: Chappy 2

:-) Guess now what kind of animal Stephen gets, and see if you guessed right later in the chapter! Cookies for everyone who knows who Detective Davis is. :-)

To stave off any confusion that might come, MJ's parents are divorced, and Michelle has no blood-related siblings. *Insert name here* has no blood-related siblings, and his mother died.

Regarding the pet introduced in this chapter, please remember that this is a fanfic. I therefore take some liberties with the laws on which animals can and can not be held as pets.

Dr Strange

America may be the land of the free, but it was sadly not the land of good tea. Not if you asked one Dr. Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts.

He could have sworn he still had a stash of the fine leaves he had brought back from his last visit to Kathmandu, but he hadn't been able to find it anywhere. His quest to find a vendor that sold decent tea, had taken him almost all the way to the ends of Manhattan, but at least he now had something to tide him over with, until the next time he was due to visit the monastery. If it weren't for the almost unbearable summer heat outside, the trip might not have been so bad.

Since he was in his civilian clothes, he headed for the nearest alley to open a portal to the Sanctum. No need to draw attention to himself, after all. He wasn't Stark.

He had barely stepped foot into his home, when he heard the voice of the boy, Peter, coming from the sitting room.

"-which is why MJ is currently getting ready for a 'get to know you' dinner with her possible new stepfather and brother. Ned and I researched the guy beforehand, of course, but he checked out. He is a police detective with the Brooklyn devision, and so far we haven't found anything that would point at him being dirty or the likes. No shady connections to the Mob, no underhanded courtroom deals, no crooks or witnesses that vanished under suspicious circumstances while connected to any of his cases, and no secret Swiss bank accounts."

Stephen could only shake his head at what he heard, even as a fond, little smile stole itself across his lips. Kid was watching too much TV. It seemed Wong shared this perspective, as he could hear the other man next.

"While your devotion to assure your friends safety is admirable, don't you think that hacking into the police stations database is taking things a little far?"

How Wong could say something like this, and still sound completely relaxed, was a mystery to Strange. He himself was contemplating to inform Stark of his ward's latest shenanigans, so that the man could perform some damage control.

"One can never be too certain. But don't worry, we made up for the hacking by strengthening the departments firewall. Their data was almost as easy to get to as the hospitals. I actually think I met Detective Davis as Spiderman once, and he seemed like a pretty nice guy. I'm not actually too worried, but I will be keeping an eye on things."

By then Stephen had made his way to the room, where Peter and Wong were talking, both had a glass filled with cold water before them on the table, while the Cloak of Levitation had draped itself beside the teenager on the couch, apparently listening in on the conversation as well.

"As long as you don't commit any more felonies while 'keeping an eye on things', Spiderman, that's perfectly alright."

The boy immediately grinned at him.

"What's up, Doc?"

Stephen sighed. Sometimes he really despised Bugs Bunny. Wong nodded at him in greeting and the Cloak fluttered one of it's corners, which was it's way of waving hello.

He continued on to the connecting kitchen, and started boiling the water in his teapot.

"What brings you here, Peter? And how come your canine companion isn't with you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Peter pout.

"It's too hot for Hope. We went for a walk yesterday morning, and he burned his paws on the asphalt. Colonel, too. Tony sectioned off a few yards behind the tower, and had a company deliver some soil and fast growing grass seeds. And pavilions for some shadow. So any outside activities for the animals are restricted to the new backyard, until this heatwave passes. But it's just as well, because Arthur is still getting used to his new leg Dad and Bruce built him, and he still needs to take things slow. And Eames can more easily stretch his wings there, without bumping into anything and having to maneuver around walls and stuff."

Stephen, thanks to Wong, knew all about the little arachnids efforts to turn Stark tower into a zoo, and could deduce that Colonel, who had also burned his paws, was one of the pets that Peter had coerced someone into adopting. 'Eames', likewise, must be an avian type of animal that now belonged to one of the Avengers. But he had no idea who or what 'Arthur' could be.

"Arthur? Did the Avengers get a new member?"

To his surprise, Wong answered the question.

"Arthur is Sergeant Barnes adopted, young raccoon, who lost his hind leg to a hunter trap. He is very cute. Peter sent me pictures."

Said teen scowled at the Sorcerer Supreme.

"Which you would have gotten, too, if you finally accepted my friends request on Whatsapp."

Thankfully that's when the kettle let out a shrill whistle, and Stephen could finally start brewing himself a cup. He would not be able to get through what was to follow, without a nice cup of tea.

"Peter, you have my number for emergencies and other important things, not to spam my phone with pictures of every cute, little critter you come across. I remember the day you adopted Hope. Wong's phone vibrated so much with received messages from you, it fell off the table. Also, I don't have Whatsapp."

Completely ignoring everything else the man had said, Peter zeroed in on that last statement.

"What about twitter?"

"No."

"Instagram?"

"No."

"Tumblr?"

"I don't even know what that is."

"You gotta have Facebook at least! Even Steve has a Facebook page, and he uses a flip-phone!"

"Definitely not."

Peter, seemingly beyond shocked, turned to the older monk beside him.

"How do you live with him?"

Wong sighed, shook his head, and took a sip of his water.

"'Tis the cross I must bear."

Thank the Ancient One that his tea was done! He took a long drink, disregarding the scalding temperature, and sighed in relief. Better.

"Why don't we get back to my first question, shall we? What brings you here, Peter? Do the Avengers need assistance?"

Peter grinned and dove for his backpack.

"Nope! I just brought over the next part of the Harry Potter movies for Cloakie!"

He quickly yanked the movie disk out of his backpack and held it aloft triumphantly. And then the Cloak of Levitation, an ancient, magical, powerful artifact, that was revered by many, fluttered in absolute excitement and tackled the teenager in a hug, while also grabbing the movie.

Peter laughed, Wong smiled, and Stephen resisted the urge to burrow his head in his hands, and instead took another sip of his tea.

After he had managed to untangle himself from Cloakie, Peter downed the rest of his water, thanked Wong for the beverage, and stood up.

"Alright! I should be on my way now."

"Do you want me to open a portal into the tower?" Stephen offered, remembering the sweltering heat outside. Peter shook his head.

"Thanks, but I wanted to fit in a little patrol before going back. Though I don't expect a lot to be going on, with the temperatures outside. Thank God the suit has air conditioning. Bye Doc, bye Wong, bye Cloakie!"

Two "Bye Peter"'s and a full body flutter from the Cloak, and the young superhero was gone. With the closing of the front door, Strange sat down on one of the couches and relaxed. He liked Peter a lot, but the boy could be a bit taxing at times. As he drank his tea and watched the Cloak fly off in search of his laptop to watch it's new Harry Potter movie, he never noticed the deeply amused, knowing and conspiratorial little grin Wong was wearing.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"So, MJ said the dinner went really well. She likes the guy, said she had a good feeling about him."

Ned told Bethany, the shelter worker who had been there when Michelle and Peter had guided Sam and Bucky into pet adoption. Peter had boosted himself up on the reception counter, and was carefully stroking the soft feathers of the big snow owl perched on his arm. While Bethany wouldn't normally allow a visitor to have one of the animals in the open like this, and in the buildings lobby to boot, she had made an exception for Peter. Not only was the boy extraordinarily good with handling the animals, he had also needed a little pick-me-up, seeing as the persisting hot weather had not allowed for his dog to accompany him to the shelter.

Peter added his own little tid-bits.

"The son had apparently been a bit quiet, but she said he seemed very sweet."

Bethany nodded.

"Well, I believe anyone would feel a little awkward, meeting their father's new girlfriend, and girlfriend's daughter. How old did you say the boy was?"

Since Peter was very busy smiling over the cute faces the owl was making as he pet it, Ned answered the question.

"11. Though MJ did get him to talk a bit about hobbies and stuff. She said he has a real interest in art, especially graffiti painting."

Peter chimed in then.

"Which means he and MJ will have plenty to bond over. Hopefully she doesn't make him take up her 'painting people in distress' thing. Otherwise my frowning face will likely be the first of many, to one day appear on walls all over the city."

Ned paled visibly.

"Dude, that's horrifying."

Bethany laughed softly.

"Now, now boys. You shouldn't fret about things like that. My wife always says that artists carry old souls. Anything they draw, is worth drawing. Even a frowning face."

She winked at Peter. Bethany was totally cool. She was 58 years old and had been together with her wife since they were both 20. When America finally lifted the ban on gay marriage, they had been one of the first same-sex couples to tie the knot in 2015. Peter opened his mouth to reply, when his ears picked up the distant (though rapidly closing in) sounds of screaming and cursing. He grinned.

"Ned, get your camera ready. Operation: Harry Potter, is about to begin."

The other boy obediently pointed his camera towards the entrance, and before Bethany could ask what the boys were talking about, she heard a male voice screaming at someone or something to: "Stop it, goddammit! You insufferable piece of magical cloth! If you don't let me down this instance-"

And then suddenly the doors burst open and what looked to be a man, swaddled in... a red cape?.. came literally flying in.

Peter jumped from the counter (carefully though, so as not to unsettle the owl still perched on his arm), and took a few steps forward.

"Cloakie, you made it!"

Then the cape seemingly unraveled itself from the man (giving the poor guy quite the spin in the process), and came floating over to the teen and owl.

While Bethany was still trying to cope with the fact that there was an apparently living article of clothing, hovering in front of Peter and seemingly ogling the owl (which ogled back just as much), the man the cape had dragged into the shelter (and boy, that was definitely a line of thought she never expected to have) was slowly getting his bearings again. Then he pinned a very pointed gaze at the two teenagers, and made a notable effort to keep his voice calm.

"Peter. Ned. Would it be correct for me to assume, that you are to blame for my unwilling journey through the streets of Manhattan?"

As Ned tried to shrink back behind his camera (that he still kept resolutely focused on the sorcerer), Peter just grinned brightly at the man.

"Absolutely. Very astute of you. Guess that's why you are the Sorcerer Supreme."

(Oh, so that was that magical superhero that her wife had told her about. Really, her love was such a fangirl where New York's hero community was concerned. Well, at least that entrance made sense now.)

The man, (Dr. Strange, if Bethany remembered correctly), narrowed his eyes at the teen.

"And for what possible reason, do you require my presence?"

Cloakie had extended one of it's corners to lightly pet the white owl on the head. The owl seemed to like it.

"We need a designated adult to sign the adoption papers for Hedwig. She is a 9 year old snow owl. Her owner was a huge Harry Potter fan, which is why he named her Hedwig. He sadly died in an accident not too long ago, and his remaining family didn't have the kind of space to take Hedwig in."

The eyes narrowed further.

"If you want to adopt another pet, then get your aunt or Stark to sign the forms."

Peter shook his head.

"But Hedwig isn't for me."

Bethany looked on intrigued as suspicion formed in the sorcerer's eyes.

"Peter, I'm not getting a pet."

The teen rolled his eyes.

"I know. Hedwig isn't for you, either. She is for Cloakie!"

As if to underline his point, he lifted the arm with the owl a bit, drawing all eyes to the way the Cloak of Levitation cooed (could a cloak coo?) at Hedwig.

The look on the doctor's face right then, was one that Bethany had seen many times on her sister in law, when she had to explain to her 4 year old daughter why she only got one birthday every year.

"Kid, the Cloak of Levitation may be a sentient being with it's own will, but it cannot adopt an animal."

Peter gave the man the most deadpan look that Bethany had ever seen him make.

"I. Know. Which is why we need you to sign the paperwork. Didn't I say that? I thought I said that."

He looked questioningly at Cloakie, who nodded in agreement, and then went right back to petting the owl.

Stephen decided not to suffer any more of this lunacy, and waved his hands to open a portal to the Sanctum. Before he was able to fully step through, however, the Cloak had settled around his shoulders and dragged him back into the shelter's lobby. He directed his stern gaze at the Cloak.

"I don't care how much you love Harry Potter, you will not keep an owl in the Sanctum."

The Cloak folded both of it's lower ends together, in an imitation of a human folding their arms over their chest. Stephen pointed a finger right at it.

"Don't give me that look. We are not taking that owl home, and that is final."

Hedwig, (with a little whispered encouragement from Peter), took matters into her own hands (claws? Wings?) and gave the teen an affectionate headbutt, before flying off his arm and right through the still open portal, into the Sanctum. While Stephen was still trying to process this fully, his magical cloak fluttered in excitement and dove right after it's owl. The portal closed right behind them. Stephen stared.

Before he had the chance to chase after his wayward magical artifact, Peter was suddenly before him, shoving a bunch of papers and a pen into his chest.

"Great, doc! I knew you would come around, though there was really no need to get Hedwig to your home in such a rush! Now, let's just quickly take care of the formalities. You wouldn't want Bethany to think that you were kidnapping her animals, right?"

The wide, brown eyes looked meaningfully first at him, then at the older woman behind the counter, then at a still filming Ned.

Master of the mystic arts, Sorcerer Supreme, protector of the magical realms, Doctor Stephen Strange, let out a long suffering sigh, and grabbed for the adoption forms.

-----------------------------------------------------

When roughly twenty minutes later, a portal opened up in the sitting room of the Sanctum Sanctorum, through which stepped a thoroughly annoyed Stephen, Wong was already prepared with a cup of steaming tea.

"The Cloak and Hedwig are in the upper level, playing a game of tag." He quickly handed the cup over, completely ignoring the calculating eyes his friend was bestowing him with. "I have already placed different perches for our new roommate all over the house. The special bird feed is in the kitchen."

Then the older monk calmly sat down in his armchair, and resumed reading the thick tome of incantations before him.

"You were in on this, weren't you?"

Wong casually turned a page.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

Stephen swore loudly, took a sip of his tea, and vowed to find a way to get revenge.

#Peter Parker #Ned Leeds #Stephen Strange #Cloak of levitation #Peter is a little shit #pets #hedwig the owl #owls #cloakie is a Harry Potter fan #petvenger #fanfi #iron dad #spider son #peter tricks ny heroes into adopting pets #Wong #teasing Miles Morales as a future character #fic series #op lurafita

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hot-mess-choices · 6 years ago

Text

Poison, Chapter 1 “Numb”

Pairing: Nathan Sterling/MC (Penelope “Penny” Curtis)

Warnings: toxic relationship, trauma, angst, sexual content in next chapters

Word Count: 1853 Words

Authors Note: Hello internet people! This is my very first published fanfic so I am really nervous about posting this. Given that English is not my native language, I hope you can overlook mistakes that were made, but be kind enough to educate me on them.

Feedback and constructive criticism is of course greatly appreciate!

Before we dive into this I want it to be completely clear that I in no way intended to romanticize abusive relationships. I’ve been in one in the past and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. This is purely fictional and I‘d like to make it abundantly clear that this is not a Nathan redemption story, he’s still a villain, charming and alluring and irresistible, but still a villain. However, I found the ending of his and MCs relationship very anti-climactic and decided to let my MC suffer a bit more.

With that being said, enjoy the story kids!

I’m still not used to coming home to a quiet and empty apartment. It’s been close to two months since Zack moved in with Grant. I’m happy for them; I really am and maybe I’d be able to deal with being alone during Senior year better if it wasn’t for this damn suffocating silence. Every time I have a few quiet moments to myself, away from my friends and their shenanigans, I- I remember. Last year’s events creep up on me. I hear distant sirens, air that suddenly reeks of smoke, temperatures rising, glass bursting and his cold gaze cutting through me. It feels like I’m still there. I have left a part of me in this dark past and have not yet reclaimed it. I exhale deeply as I set down my groceries on the kitchen counter. Absent-minded I turn on the TV, not caring for the program; it’s just about to serve as a constant background noise anyway. As I unpack my bags, I play with the idea of maybe inviting someone over for tonight. But I quickly dismiss it. Most of my friends are too busy nowadays to make plans on such short notice. They probably wouldn’t turn me down, but I’d hate to bother them. Besides, it was already half past eight. I could probably call David. The two dates we had were going decent enough, but I’d risk sending him some mixed signals by inviting him over to my place at this time of day. He's been admirably respectful of my admittedly slow pace so far, and I don’t want to get his hopes up. I shouldn’t have gone out with him in the first place probably, given my current situation. So maybe I’ll just go to bed early and call it a day. The second I made my decision, the doorbell starts to ring. Cautiously I walk towards the door and press the button on the intercom: “Hello?” “Miss Curtis?” a deep voice fizzles through the speaker. I know who it is even before he says it out loud and my eyes dart to the small calendar that’s hung next to the door. “Miss Curtis, it is Felix Hail, he… he requested your company for the night and has sent me to escort you, as usual.” Felix is a good person. I hate for him to be caught up in this… this… whatever it is. “I was there last week. We agreed on meeting once every other week.” I try to sound confident and dismissive, but I can’t fool anyone. Felix can probably hear my excited heart beat through the intercom, it’s that loud. “I am well aware, Miss. Nevertheless, he insisted. You know how he gets when someone denies one of his requests.” A cold shiver runs down my back. I do know. I know it all too well. Why else would I still be paying for standing in his way one too many times. I am also well aware that if I do not follow his invite, Felix will get the end of it. I can’t let that happen. “Wait by the car. I’ll be with you in five.” I let go of the button. Piercing blue eyes dance mockingly through my mind and I can already see his pleased half-smile. I grab my coat and close the door on my way out. Once again obediently following the call of none other than Nathan Sterling, I disgust myself. “Should I turn up the heat, Miss?” Felix asks as I climb into the back seat of the sleek Porsche limousine. He always sends the same. I know he has other cars, but I think he takes great pleasure in making things my routine and being in control. “I’m good. Thanks, Felix.” He gives me a sympathetic look through the rear view mirror and starts the car. My mind starts to drift off. How did I end up in this mess? I walked right into it, on my own accord, that’s how. I’m such an idiot. After last year ended with the horrific realisation that the guy I’d been dating was a cold blooded sociopath who wanted nothing but harm to me and my friends, I just wished for a tame summer to recover from all this hurt. But the summer ended up being everything but tame. I was called as a witness to the trials of all the Alphas. I did my best to highlight how horrible their actions truly were. And then I saw Nathan and how he couldn’t be bothered by any of it. His family’s lawyer, stone faced and I knew that he would do anything to get as close to winning this case as possible. I remember how they made this stupid deal that put Nathan under house arrest with electronic monitoring, limited access of communications, an approved list of visitors for private meetings and a sheer endless list of people who could visit with his parents present. What a laughable sentence. Being locked up in your millionaire mansion should not be considered punishment. I don’t know how, but somehow I ended up on the approved private visitor list and he invited me over. Invited is probably the wrong term here. He sent Felix, who told me that “my attendance at the Sterling’s annual end-of-summer charity auction was demanded by the young Mr Sterling.” I should have declined. I should have sent him the meanest, coldest and most hurtful turn down in the history of turn downs, so he would not dare to even think of me ever again, but… I’d like to think that it was my curiosity that lead me to follow this highly questionable request. It could have been the journalist in me, that wanted to know what this was all about. It could have been the strong and empowered woman in me, that wanted to spit in his face one last time. But it was really just the lovesick vulnerable college girl, Nathan still held all this power over. I thoroughly searched my past far and wide, but out of all the people I’ve ever had a romantic connection with, not one of them made me feel the way Nathan did. It’s this primal feeling of raw soul-crushing emotion he gives me. Like we are two parts of a whole, constantly drawn to each other and unable to let go. At least that’s what it feels like to me. I know deep down that this will end badly. I know that he just wants to see me suffer and make me pay for what I did to him. But I just can’t bring myself to leave. All my friends told me that I needed time. That I should take time to heal. Abbie suggested therapy. Kait and Zack joked about a rebound. But none of that seemed reasonable when all I wanted was him. I needed to feel his skin on mine. I want his lips all over me. His scent embracing me. I want his eyes to impale me with their gaze. They don’t understand. His poison is running through every inch of my being and being near him seems to be the only thing that makes it bearable. That day in late August, I just had to see him. I had to be with him. I had to. That’s why I dressed up and let Felix drive me to the Sterling’s estate. I could barely take in all the expensive cars parked out front or all the rich folks dressed in their finest evening attire. I didn’t even have time to feel intimidated. Felix led me straight inside. Up the stairs. To him. It’s been like that ever since. Every other week Felix appears on my porch to take me there. Every time I come with him. Every time I leave the next day, more intoxicated and addicted than before. And now? Will this become a weekly appointment now? And then? Every second day? Every day? Will I be his live in plaything? Will he eventually grow tired of me or will this go on forever? Can I live like that? Do I want to live like that? A cold shiver runs down my spine. I do, don’t I? Something inside of me was terrifyingly excited at that thought. I think I’m going to be sick. “Pull over Felix” “Miss, is everything al—” “Pull over!” Quick to follow my forceful tone, the car comes to a halt by the side of the road. I yank the door open and step out. Cold air fills my lungs as I take deep breaths. It’s almost December, the sun had sunken hours ago, and I should be freezing. Yet, the cold is strangely calming. “Miss, are you not feeling well, you seem awfully pale. Do you want to sit down? I could take you back home, if you desire to do so.” Felix has left his place behind the steering wheel and now stands next to me. I’ll never get used to how tall he is. What is he? 6’5? Damn. His broad shoulders cast a looming shadow onto the poorly lit street. In combination with his deep voice, he could have the potential of being one of the most intimidating people I know but his kind features beg to differ. I never asked, but I’d assume that he is in his late forties, maybe early fifties. His once brown hair is turning grey and his soft hazel eyes are surrounded by small wrinkles. I force a weak smile on my face. “I’m good, just needed some fresh air, that’s all.” He doesn’t even try to look convinced. He has been working for the Sterlings for too long to know how bad for your health they can be. “I can take you back and tell him that you weren’t home when I tried to pick you up.” Felix gives me a troubled look, clearly struggling to keep a professional distance between us. “He’d not be happy about that. I really don’t want him to be angry with you.” Might as well be honest with him now, right? He lets out a small joyless grunt. “Occupational hazard. I’m used to temper tantrums by now. I’ve been working for this family for twenty-eight years after all.” His big hand twitches upwards as if he wanted to pat my shoulder, but he reconsiders and takes a step back instead. “My apologies, it is not my place to speak ill of my employers.” His back straightens. “I won’t snitch on you, Felix. Let’s go, Nathan doesn’t appreciate it when people aren’t on time, right?” Pressing my lips together, I walk past him and get back inside the car. Before I slam the door shut, I hear Felix sigh something along the line with “Poor girl, where will this end?” I’ve asked myself this question far too often to care anymore. Self-pity is really not a good look on me and a real wast of time. I don’t care about what’s going to happen to me. Nathan can do whatever he wants. I’m numb.

Tags: @immortalmurphy

#playchoices #choices stories you play #Nathan Sterling #The Freshman #The Sophmore #The Junior #The Senior #Natan/MC #fanfic #tf/ts/tj/ts

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chimmychanga1225 · 6 years ago

Text

It was 1 AM when I wrote this: A Spideypool Fanfic

Chapter 1 (?)

So this is one of my first fanfics on this site, so sorry if it’s not the best, but, regardless, I hope you enjoy. (Btw I’m not really sure if tumblr is a site for posting fanfics, but I guess we’ll see.) (also, I swear this isn’t how I usually write, but writing Deadpool into a fic is like welcoming the demolition of the fourth wall, so, yeah)

Warnings: Major fluff, some vulgar language, and some serious keyboard hijacking

————

It was just your average bright cloudy day at the morgue when Peter started seeing dead people. Now you may ask yourself, is this man being portrayed by Bruce Willis, but, rest assured, this coroner was much more less bald than our DC universe older than middle aged sex fantasy, but we’ll get to that later.

No, Peter was probably one of the most brilliant minds in his field, if the field also included the requirement of building a scaled model version of the Death Star. And also a semi-decent Chewbacca impression. Geekdom aside, the guy was average, so he definitely probably didn’t deserve a red and white striped 1978 station wagon driving through the walls of his morgue.

As the dust cleared, the light revealed a half demolished wind shield with a few corpses chilling around the messed up room. The windshield wipers turned on for a moment to push away a dismembered shoulder, allowing Peter to have a better look at the driver.

Peter didn’t even have a moment to process what happened or who he had see when the originally dead man behind him jumped off the observation table, in his full naked glory, but still wearing his mask, somehow. “Jesus Christ”, Peter exclaimed tumbling to the ground.

“Close but not quite.”

“I don’t even need to be able to see to know you’re being stupid right now.”

“Lovely to see you too, Al. How’s the roomba working out for ya?”

“Are you always this much of a dick when you revive”, the lady responded. As Wade was about to respond, the previously forgotten coroner returned to their attention.

“Y-you’re supposed to be n-not alive”, Peter stuttered, making eye contact with the butt naked but ever sexy Wade W. Wilson.

“And who might you be”, Wade asked crouching down to the other man’s cowered form. “White jacket. Really awkward looking? You must be a coroner”, he said in a snobbish voice.

Peter felt himself finally come over the shock of the car crash and now finds himself having to deal with shock and trauma from the terrible movie reference. “Did you just quote Drac-“, Wade placed his hand over the other’s mouth.

“Wrong, fanfic sweet cheeks. But anyways, I gotta skiddadle”, and with that, the man, the myth, the legend merrily skipped his way to the semi-thrashed vehicle. Once reaching the driver’s side he leaned down to the barely visible woman who had been driving earlier. “Alright, short stack Sally, hand them over.”

With some grumbling and quiet curses, Blind Al digged out a wooden door stop and a metal rod along with a pair of... crocs? “Remind me to dip my hands in windex when I get home”, Al announced with disdain.

“Oh please, you know you love the after masturbation scent to them”, Wade coyly replied back. He walked over to the passenger side and opened - picked the lock to - the door. “Petal to the metal, Al. Let’s go!”

The car pulled out as quickly as it came in, showing all the damage the uncertified driver had made to the city. Even while assessing the damage, Peter couldn’t keep the man off his mind.

“Does he not want his liver back”, he asked himself mystified by how the walking talking crisis didn’t even notice.

—————

“Uugh”, Wade whined as he collapsed on his mysteriously stained couch. He looked over to the kitchen, disappointed to see the Blind Al didn’t have a reaction to his current crisis.

“UUUgh”, he complained slightly louder in hopes of getting her attention but still nothing.

“UUUUUuuuuuUuuuUuuuuUUUggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh”, he practically yelled.

“I’m not a dog, so why don’t you call me over instead of making some stupid ass whine”, Al said, already exhausted by the thought of the following conversation.

“You know, Al, I thought we had a real connection through that Craigslist Ad but, in all honesty, I’m feeling a little attacked right now.” Al gave a sigh of exasperation before making her way towards the overgrown child in red spandex.

“What’s wrong”, she asked, regretting the fact that his name was on the lease for their apartment.

“I can’t stop thinking about the bubble butt coroner from earlier. I left him my number but he hasn’t even texted me yet”, Wade whined looking at his heavily Hello Kitty decorated iPhone. Still nothing.

“When did you get the chance to give him your number?”

“I scratched it into my liver before I left”, Wade said casually picking at his finger nails.

“Maybe he didn’t notice.”

Wade’s persona did a complete 180, as he dropped his phone and threw off his crocs. He jumped to his suit, which was still riddled with holes and slashes from his last fight, and ran to his room. He exited an unrealistic minute later and grabbed his ammo bag.

“Don’t tell me your going to go kill him. He seemed okay”, Al said without much conviction.

“Not today, negative nelly. No, I’m going to go to him, with my unalderated feelings, raw and true, and ask him, sincerely, if he’d let me put it in his-“, Al put up a hand to stop him.

“I don’t need or want to know. Go do whatever and try not to die again. It’s getting annoying to pick you up all the time”.

“Okay, mom. I’ll hopefully return with bubble butt boy in hand or die a hero.”

—————

Peter’s feet dragged as he finally reached the enterance to his apartment. The day was wild from start to finish. And of course, Peter was blamed for losing a body. “Why do these things only happen to me”, he groaned placing the key into the lock.

Peter opened the door to his apartment and immediately went to the couch and collapsed, too tired to comprehend his surroundings. “This couch sucks”, Peter grumbled, making a mental note to invest in better furniture, after the million other things he has to pay off.

The couch laughed, shaking Peter slightly. “At least take me to dinner first”, the couch chuckled. Peter slowly came to, realizing that his couch was not talented enough to talk to him, or act so annoying if it did.

“I remember couches being a lot more quiet”, Peter said with a sly smile. He knew it wasn’t over between him and Bucky. Peter slid his arms around the man and hugging him tightly. “I’m sorry about before, I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. And I didn’t mean to ignore you either, it’s just that you’re always out with other people and I get worried.”

“Um”, the other began but Peter interrupted him. “Please let me get this out. I can barely manage to say it now”, Peter said, neck and cheeks burning. He was glad the other couldn’t see his face or else this would be even more embarrassing.

Peter took the man’s silence as a yes to his request. “I’m sorry for being so jealous and petty. I get now that you and Steve are just good friends and I’ll give you space if you need it. Just please don’t leave me”, Peter finished, giving the other a tighter hug at the end of it all.

“I love you too much to lose you”, Peter capped it all off. “I’ll prove it.”

The moment Peter was about to go down on him, Wade figured it was best to stop the kid before he did anything reckless. “Slow down there, hot shot. Didn’t you hear me earlier? Dinner first then the hanky panky. Or during dinner. Or pregame the dinner. I’m fine with either.”

“You”, was all Peter could exclaim, scrambling off the leather clad and unbelievably sexy hero mercenary.

“Me”, Wade said cheerfully, but, in reality, felt a lot of disappointment. Jokes aside, he really liked Bubble Butt boy. So much that he even broke into his apartment, like the suave heartbreaker he is. “I see that you’re kind of busy, so I guess I’ll be going now.”

Peter remained unmoving from his position in the couch, even as Wade began to get up. But just as soon as he left the couch, Peter reached out to grab Wade’s hand. “Stay... please.”

As much of a cold hearted killer that he was, Wade just couldn’t find it in him to say no to the boy sitting in front of him, trying his best not to cry. “Um, okay”, Wade said, miraculously not being annoying.

Wade sat back down, letting the other curl into his side. Peter let out shuddering breaths but refused to let out any tears. “Sooo.... exboyfriend problems?”

Peter laughed lightly. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Wade frowned once more before putting on an award winning smile. “Well I know half of it can be resolved with some of Grandma Al’s macaroni cheese, going light on the cocaine, of course.”

“Cocaine? Damn your grandma was wild.”

“Oh she’s not my grandma. She’s my roomie. She is old, blind, and I’m pretty sure she is secretly in love with me.” Wade started digging through Peter’s pantry looking for anything pot like cooking thing to make the cheese heaven. “Grandma Wilson, on the other hand, was more of marijuana-macaroni type of gal. Oh Satan bless her soul, since she probably burning in hell with the rest of the Wilsons.”

Wade felt himself smile when he heard the other stifling laughs behind him. He was probably gonna get cursed by the bat shit crazy ghost of his long lost Grandma, but it was fine with him, if he got the bubble butt boy to laugh even for a moment. Speaking of bubble butt boy...

“Bubble Butt Boy, as much as I love alliteration, I need your real name to start working on our shipname.”

Peter blushed at the nickname, becoming a little more conscious of his butt than he was before. “I-I’m Peter. No, uh, Parker. Peter Parker. Like, together.”

“Of course you have an alliterating name, Jesus Christ, Stan, no one actually has names like this”, Wade yelled at the ceiling, confusing Peter further. When Wade faced the kid again, he gave him a toothy grin, which translated well through his mask. “‘Name’s Wade W. Wilson. Mercenary and certified love expert at your service.”

“Nice to meet you, mercenary and love expert Wade W. Wilson”, Peter said with a cheeky smile.

“Emphasis on the love expert. Now who’s the boy toy?”

Peter gave a sad sigh as he stood up from his spot on the couch. He glided over to Wade and gave him a small tap on the shoulder to get his attention. “The Kraft Mac and Cheese box is over here. Unfortunately, I’m fresh out of cocaine”.

There was a small pause before the younger continued. “And he wasn’t really my boy toy, but I was his.”

Wade had to bite his lips to stop himself from making a sarcastic comment and just listen. “His name is Bucky and he’s actually a really nice guy. It was kind of my fault we broke up. I mean, he was always really lax and let me do what I wanted, but I felt like he didn’t really care what I did. And when I started getting worried about him or jealous over the amount of time he was hanging out with his friends, he would always get mad.“

“I- at one point I thought he was cheating on me so I followed him out. Before he even got past a block I was caught by him and he hadn’t talk to me or even seen me since.” Peter was crying now, regretting who’s he acted and how jealous he was of Bucky’s and Steve’s relationship. “I j-just want t-to say I’m s-sorry”, he barely pushed the words through his lips before his crying took over him.

Wade walked over, Macaroni made in a nice Adventure time themed cup (which he totally wanted to steal) and led the crying boy back to the couch. “Don’t you worry your little bubble butt over him, Parker. He doesn’t deserve you affection and you don’t deserve all the stuff he put you through. And that’s my verdict.”

“But-“

“Sorry, baby boy, but it can’t be changed. Love expert, remember?” Peter laughed and rolled his eyes, which were still a little red, but mostly tear-less.

“You know, I don’t think I have ever met a love expert that was so modest”, Peter said gesturing to the Wade’s apparel. I don’t think I even got a chance to see your face...”, Peter trailed off, raising his hand toward the mask.

Just as his hand slipped under it a bit - allowing him to feel the damaged skin - Wade jerked back so much he fell off the couch. “I know I’ve made you dinner, but, Peter, you have to be delicate with me”, Wade said jokingly, but his heart was pounding and he was sweating under all the leather.

“I have to protect my innocence”, Wade said continuing with the joke, but eventually stood up from the ground and grabbed a blanket over on the other side of the room. He came back to Peter and put the blanket on him but made no move to sit back down. “I’ll check in on you later, Parker. So don’t do anything stupid”, Wade lectured and just like that he hopped out Peter’s window.

“What the fuck”, Peter exclaimed running over to the ledge, but it was too dark to see the ground. He only heard a quiet “watch your language young man” before he headed back to the couch smiling broader than ever.

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thelostsmiles · 7 years ago

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Chris/10 would recommend ★★★★★

It was riveting, witty, and passionate.

I highly recommend reading “Gimme Shelter” by @sincewhendoyoucallme-john

However, if it’s late and you have to go to bed soon because you have work, school or any other important thing tomorrow, still read it but know that you will not get the amount of hours you’re accustomed to. I guarantee you will not be able to put it down.

*spoilers*

From the opening line of “the love affair began with salt” comes one of the most memorable Johnlock stories I’ve encountered. It’s a surfing adventure that takes place in the 70s on the beaches of California and Hawaii. Right away, I could feel the warm sands beneath my feet and the sticky ocean breeze on my face.

I’m a fan of The Rolling Stones but “Gimme Shelter” introduced me to songs that I hadn’t heard before. The ones I was familiar with, I now hear them with different more vibrant colours. That’s one thing I really appreciated. The music. I love that the author included a song at the beginning of each chapter. It placed me in the right mood and setting for what was to come. Either by lyrics or melody, each song coordinated very well with the scenes. But just as they mention, if there is only one song you hear throughout, the title song is it. I’d personally include “Time Is On My Side”, “Paint It Black”, “Moonlight Mile”, “Miss You”, and “Wild Horses”. I’m listening to the playlist as I write this and it swells my heart with happiness *thinks about them standing on that cliff in the summer of 1977* :’)

The writing is brilliant. It’s very eloquent and enthralling. They developed Scotty and Johnny into fully formed beings that without a doubt became Sherlock and John in an alternate universe. It had the right amount of description to where I felt like I was there witnessing these two falling in love. I’m not exaggerating. At one point, I picked up my phone to continue and I was confused for a moment. I wasn’t sure which app to open. Netflix? Hulu? Did I mean to turn on the telly? Am I listening to an album? It was implanted into my retinas remarkably vividly. I was sitting at home in the cold fall sweater weather feeling like I was wearing shorts and a tank top while lounging on a beach towel with aviator sunglasses on as I sipped a coolly frosted beer. I was laying there propped up on my one elbow, smiling wide because Sherlock and John were standing under a palm tree being adorable thinking nobody could see them caressing each other but I could. I almost felt like a creeper.

Now that I have given a decent review, here are some of the informal, inappropriate and honest reactions I had while reading.

Sleep? What is that? It’s a little over 159k words. Not enough. No wonder my eyes burn but it’s worth it. It feels like they’re about to melt out of my sockets. To be fair, it could easily also be because of the tears I’ve shed due to how beautiful this is. “I can’t quit you, baby. But I’m gonna have to put you down for a while.” Me towards this art because this is like air. I need more of this ultra high purity grade oxygen.

It’s romantic, erotic, sensual and exciting and I’m not even referring to the smut, albeit that is also incredible. Like the sex they had the morning of their wedding day and how John saw Sherlock looking down at him. One word: soft. The tenderness of the whole story is captivating. It’s giving me 1976% good vibes.

Why would you make Greg this way? It’s intense and I approve. Greg is that best friend anybody would be lucky to have.

Get Off My Cloud. “Obviously.” And there’s the Sherlock Holmes we all know. Scotty wearing these aviator glasses is something else. This gorgeous bastard knows he’s sexy and he knows in this moment Johnny’s mouth is dry. Damn. What a treat to have these two meet and not exactly hit it off well because, yes, the drama. The anticipation is killing me. I’m about to wipe out head first into the 70s. I don’t want to be saved, thankyouverymuch.

I Just Want To See His Face. I think we all can appreciate his solider kink. What a tender child. Lord, I want for this to keep going. It’s so good. But omg noooo, my heart is breaking. I want to crawl in to hold young Scotty in my arms. How dare they do that to his surfboard? I’m mad as hell.

Street Fighting Man. The great Scotty Holmes wiped out. Ahuh. Sure, Jan. But was there ever any other option? Not when he wants to look into those deep blue eyes again. “Stay the hell away from me!” Oh, Johnny. You have no idea how big of a lie this is.

Under My Thumb. Wow. Scotty really dressed up all fancy to go meet Johnny at his workplace just to return the bullet casing. He would. “Nobody calls me John.” Well, this gorgeous man just did. Let hiiiim (I feel like this is a good nod to your name @sincewhendoyoucallme-john ). Yes, Johnny. Stare into Scotty’s lovely eyes, letting your skin prickle underneath. Train with this beauty. He will show you all there is to know. You two will become pros and live ridiculously happy lives together :))

Time Waits For No One. Johnny talking about the war with Scotty, saying things he’s never said to anyone else is soothing. A bond is forming. Woah, woah. Hold up. That post beach workout shower scene?! What the hell is this?? I am gasping in wonder. It is like a bomb waiting to drop and I’m over here craving it. It was like a slap to the face when those dudes barged in. That was a close one. It all felt illegal. Hot but illegal. Bless you for including it. Their “tents” though. Grade A tents.

Miss You. Johnny’s friends really showed up during their last day of surfing together. Ok but this tension between them is awkward. He’s jealous of Greg!! Ahhhh. Help him. Johnny and Scotty bickering on that flat rock had me on the edge of my seat. I could hear them yelling and now I’m yelling. Strike me with this kind of discourse anytime. As long as it ends with them happy, I’m all for it. Oh my. That CPR kiss? Never have three letters been quite intoxicating. This is what I needed. Very good. Yes, save Johnny Watson, Scotty. Rip his top open and place your huge hands on his chest. Give him the kiss of life.

Time Is On My Side. I cannot breathe. I am laughing and smiling too hard. My face is going to get stuck if I’m not careful. It feels like there are anchor shaped knots in my stomach. My heart is on fire. My throat is swelling to hold on to the blood pulsating through my veins. “You forced me to breathe again.” Ok, but @sincewhendoyoucallme-john now you’re leaving me without air. He whispered THANK GOD. Same Sherlock. Same. John wanting to wake up before the sun because he needs to see Sherlock is exciting. Sherlock telling John that he wouldn’t let him embarrass himself, telling him that he believes in him is pure. Let them eat poke all day. Automatic coffee machine? Obviously. So Sherlock. I demand this whole scene with them on the cliff and in the water after they jump to be transmitted on all television and radio stations internationally. Send it straight to space and blast it into everyone’s mobile phones because this is what it’s all about. This was so romantic :’) Someone please make this into literal food so that I can consume it as all my meals.

Moonlight Mile. I… Never… Honestly… I just felt this story crawl into the right atrium of my heart and settle deep into the folds of the left ventricle. I have been murdered and resurrected in a matter of one chapter. I changed my mind. This is the purest thing. Their time together like that was deliciously unexpected. Glorious. The way you described it @sincewhendoyoucallme-john You have a gift, my friend. You do. It’s like being able to eat all the tasty desserts in the world without ever getting ill. Like you can’t ever get full so you keep stuffing your face and smiling because it’s so satisfying [insert SNL Emma Stone eating ice cream gif here but in a joyful way].

Paint It Black. I’m going to have to go to the dentist now. You’re giving me a toothache. I’m also screaming because no they didn’t just snog each other behind this shop. Gah. Yes, they did :>

I Can’t Quit You Baby. I’ve never known a pain greater than John having to leave Sherlock to head back to Los Angeles … “leaving Sherlock alone and untouched on the sidewalk, looking like he’d just said goodbye.” Stop it! Stop. Please. I’m despondent and I need medical attention. But he promised and he’s going to keep that promise. I know it because they didn’t just completely devour each other in a sweet embrace crushing their bodies together, bruising their skin and breathing in their very souls for nothing.

Shine A Light. I, too, waited for one hundred and forty seven hours for this moment. That is all.

Dancing With Mr. D. Yes!! You ride that wave, Sherlock. Let the ocean spray massage your back while John’s illuminating smile creates sun rays that shine down on you. Surf like hell, Sherlock Holmes! Now go get your man. “A new tattoo of the memory of John’s touch on his skin.” I’m putting this whole moment in my will to be read aloud.

Heaven. “You coming, captain?” Get your ass out there, John. Your beautiful golden love waits for you. My heart!! I love physics, man. This should be included in every maths course.

Wild Horses. God, I love this so much. I love it with the passion of 1977 burning suns. I will never be the same. It’s like I threw my own bullet casing out into the distance. The dog tags and the piece from Sherlock’s first surfboard is better than any ring. They’re happy. I’m happy. All Sherlock had to say was “John” and we all understood … John… *floats away* I think that, for me, this was the pièce de résistance. It’s what it all came down to. The way you described what each of them means to one another was fresh and true. It was breathtaking. You truly captured their significance to one another. And isn’t that one of the reasons why we seek out fanfic?

Everything about this is mother hugging fantastic. From the lovely moments between John, Greg, and Molly to the memories between their mothers and to the contagious laughter with Johnny and Scotty. I mean Sherlock. No, I mean Scotty. No! Sherlock. How it transitioned from Johnny and Scotty to John and Sherlock is everything. What a gem.

I thought I was going to read a story that lead up to just the Billabong Championship but, boy, was I wrong. I got so much more. It’s like I was expecting to win the lottery but along the way I also “solved world peace and found eternal life all at once.” That line was perfect, by the way. It started on a high note and ended on an even higher one. It will be forever in my brain riding a big wave in Waimea. I’m thisclose to moving to a piece of paradise on the shore of a private beach in Oahu.

Oh my literal God. Sweet Jesus above. This is fantastic!!! It’s one of the best things I’ve read and I want it made into a book. One hardcover copy so I can place it in a special section of my library to treasure it dearly as I would any first edition. And then one paperback that I can take with me everywhere I go. I didn’t know I needed this like the salt in the ocean.

So you see, I love this AU Johnlock story. No offense to the infinite stars above and the green earth but this is one of the greatest things to have been created. I send my thanks to Keith Hartman for not letting John die on that beach. I send my love and appreciation to the sky and the sea for crossing that horizon line to melt into one. Above all, I send many more thanks to the author for putting in the time and energy into this. When you see art, read stories or any other form of work in any fandom and if you experience something powerful, whether it’s as easy as a smile or intense like the strings of your heart being pulled, do not hesitate to let the creator know. Having said that, I appreciate you for your creativity and your dedication. Thank you, thank you, thank you @sincewhendoyoucallme-john This is something I’m holding on to forever *makes a leather-bound manuscript to keep in a first-aid emergency kit*

If you’re looking for something new to read, do yourself a favour and check this one out. I am jealous of everyone who reads it for the first time as I wish I could experience that rush again. Reading this was like tasting the most delicious strawberry milkshake with cream on top while listening to the beautiful sound of a conch shell calling out for the attention of the sky and sea to witness the bonding of two amazing people. I will never look at a jellyfish or a plumeria blossom the same way again *turns this whole thing into audio format so I can listen to this diamond certified song over and over again*

The only way I can come to terms with the fact that it’s over is by letting the tears falls down my face.

Chris/10 would recommend

#can you tell i loved it? :))#I wrote this in an attempt to remember the emotions I experienced while reading it for the first time #gimme shelter #johnlock #I’m going to treasure this always #fic rec #thank god for brilliant fans who give us stories like this #my two cents

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sincerelybluevase · 7 years ago

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Fanfic Friday: Breathless, Chapter 6

Shelagh had hardly slept that night. She’d looked at the water stain on the ceiling, and fretted, and cried.

If she was pregnant – and she was almost fully convinced that she was – she’d be almost four months along now. No matter how fast she and Patrick married, it was not possible to pretend that this pregnancy had occurred after matrimony. Hurried marriages and babies born not quite nine months later were not rare in Poplar. In fact, blushing brides with swollen bellies were nothing out of the ordinary. People might tut at it, but as long as marriage occurred somewhere along the line, the mother-to-be had saved her reputation and secured a decent future for her unborn child.

A finger on her ring would not wash away this taint on Shelagh’s reputation, though. Fooling around as an unwedded woman could be forgiven; sexual relations as a nun were quite a different matter.

Shelagh had palpated her abdomen, feeling the gentle curve of an expanding belly. How could she not have felt it before? Had she been so dreadfully out of tune with her body that she, a trained and accomplished midwife, had not recognised the symptoms?

“You’re not entirely sure. It could be something else…” she’d whispered, then cried some more.

In the morning, she’d pressed a cold cloth against her swollen eyes, made herself a cup of tea, and told herself to stop being so melodramatic. If she wanted to know whether she was pregnant, she should make use of a pregnancy test.

Shelagh had prepared a urine sample, and placed it in her bag so she could smuggle it into the surgery. She’d needed Patrick’s signature, but that had been easy enough to forge. At Nonnatus, Shelagh had drawn pictures of babies in the womb on a blackboard countless of times; Patrick’s signature was not half as hard as the subtle curve of a baby’s spine. She’d practiced it a few times with her heart pounding in her throat till she could do it almost perfectly.

You should trust him, a small voice had told her. If you cannot ask Patrick to help you with this…

She had wiped her hands on her skirt as if they were stained with chalk, and had shaken her head. Patrick has so much on his mind already; I’d hate to add more to that, especially if it turns out that I’m not pregnant at all.

After slipping in her sample with the others, there was nothing left but to wait till the results were in.

That had been a week ago. Now, Shelagh was at the surgery, intent on taking a peek at the results, should they be in.

“You’ve forgotten your lunch,” she told Patrick, placing a paper bag with sandwiches on his desk.

He looked up at her, and smiled. “Sometimes I wonder what I’ve done to deserve you,” he said, and took her hand in his. She gave it a soft squeeze. He pressed it over his heart. There was a twinge in her abdomen. Almost four months ago, on this desk…

“Shall I fetch the post for you? I think it must have come in just now.” She adjusted his tie, then gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll make us some tea. Unless you don’t have time for lunch with me?”

Patrick cupped her chin. “I always have time for you, Shelagh.” He pressed his mouth against hers.

She smiled against his lips, then broke their kiss. “Tea it is, then.”

She put the kettle on and took the bundle of envelopes from the table of the secretary. She flicked through them, heart beating fitfully again. The results usually came within a week. It had been eight days. Surely it should be here by now, surely she would know today… There it was, in a large, manila envelope, like always.

She glanced up. It was Patrick’s lunch break, so there were no patients. His secretary had gone out, too, leaving the surgery perfectly empty.

Shelagh took the envelope with her back to the kitchen. She poured tea into two cups with matching saucers, and spooned some sugar into them. She added a bit of cold water to her own cup and took a large gulp, allowing the sweet brew to fortify her.

“Hurry, you daft girl, or you’ll miss your chance,” she whispered. She picked the envelope up with trembling hands, took a knife from the drawer, and opened it. The sheet with the results was thin, and not entirely white.

She scanned the line of names quickly, brushing past them with her fingertip. What if her name wasn’t on here yet? Could she bear going in here tomorrow with another excuse, trying to secure another beige envelope?

At last, she found it.

Miss Mannion, Shelagh.

She daren’t look on, yet she must. She put the sheet down and grasped the counter with both hands, inhaling deeply. Oh, God, please give me strength, she prayed.

Miss Mannion, Shelagh. Positive.

Her fingertips tingled. Shivers ran up her spine.

Well, there you go, she thought. It’s hardly a surprise. But that was not true. The difference between almost knowing and knowing for sure was so big she could hardly grasp it with her mind.

How would she tell Patrick? She could hardly go into his office with two cups of tea and pretend all was fine. She picked up her cup to take another sip, but her hands shook so badly that she dropped it. The cup spilled its contents, then dropped to the floor before she could catch it. It shattered into curled shards. A brown flower bloomed on the paper, swallowing the names and the little words that would change the lives belonging to those names, or not change them at all.

She touched her belly. A different kind of flower bloomed there. She started to laugh, then dissolved into sobs.

How could she stay here in Poplar? How could she marry Patrick? She’d just tarnish his reputation as if it was a copper coin. Worst of all, though, was that she’d ruin Timothy’s life. The poor boy was hardly to blame for what his father and his colleague got up to…

But where would she go? Everyone she knew was here. Maybe Nonnatus? She shook her head.

How the nuns would hate you, if they knew, she thought. Sister Monica Joan had pressed a Bible in her hands the last time she’d seen her, and advised her to think hard on whether the slaking of the flesh or the succour of the soul was the most important. Sister Evangelina had huffed when she’d seen the engagement ring, and shaken her head. Sister Julienne…

“Shelagh?”

Patrick was beside her then, his hands on her shoulder, touching her, trying to find the cause of her distress.

“Shelagh, darling, what’s wrong?”

She turned to him and buried her face in his jumper. “Oh, Patrick,” she sobbed, inhaling his aftershave, his Henleys, his scent. How could she ever leave him?

“What is it? Have you hurt yourself?” He stroked her hair, her neck.

She stepped away from him and shook her head. “Here,” she said, and tapped the sodden paper. It had become almost translucent, but the words were still black and strong and visible.

He scanned the paper, eyes darting. “But… these are the results of the pregnancy tests.” He looked up at her, grabbed her hand. “But you couldn’t have… you’d need my signature…”

He was such a darling man. She had to laugh through her tears, and cupped his face. “I forged it,” she whispered.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

She shook her head, unable to speak.

“This is no place for this conversation. Come,” Patrick said, and pulled her along to his office. She went willingly, like a child, like a sleepwalker. He locked the door behind them, then guided her to his chair. He knelt in front of her, her hands between his. There was bewilderment in his eyes, and worry, and love. “Shelagh, please explain this to me,” he whispered.

She pulled one hand free and placed her glasses on his desk. The glass had misted over from the heat of her tears.

“I never meant to hide it from you. I didn’t know it till last week. It was a comment Sister Evangelina made. Then, when I started to suspect, I didn’t want to bother you till I was absolutely certain…”

“Were there no symptoms?”

He’d asked her that question before. She smiled.

Only a little breathlessness.

“I thought it was due to the triple treatment, or the TB.” She shook her head. “I was so naïve…”

Patrick bit his lip and set his jaw. “You weren’t, Shelagh. This doesn’t change anything between us.”

“How can you say that? Everything will be changed. Would you have asked me to marry you, had you known…”

He shook his head vehemently and pressed a finger against her mouth. “Don’t say such things, Shelagh! And certainly don’t think them. I didn’t ask you to marry me because I felt it was an obligation; I asked you because I love you.”

She pressed her forehead against his. Their breaths mingled. “There’ll be gossip, so much gossip… What are we going to do?” she whispered.

“We’ll get through, Shelagh. We’ve done so before, and we’ll do so again.” He pressed his mouth against hers and kissed her. It was a hard kiss, long and wild and passionate, like before, like four months ago. She curled her hand in his hair and knotted his tie around the other to steady herself. He pulled back, but she captured his mouth again, loving the taste of him on her tongue. He left her breathless.

“We’ll get through,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over her face, sending tremors through her body. Want coiled in her belly.

“I love you so much, Patrick. I was afraid before I told you, but now, I can hardly imagine why,” she whispered.

He smiled. “You’ll always have my love. Now dry your tears, darling. Take the results home with you and copy them, but leave out your name. That way, no one will find out for a little while yet.”

He handed her his handkerchief. It smelled like him. She dried her eyes, put her glasses on, and blew her nose. “We need to think of something. I can’t stay here, not now. I’ll start showing soon.”

“You don’t have to do this on your own, Shelagh. Leave me to worry about it, too.”

She gave him a weak smile. “I’ll copy the results and bring them back to you before the day is out.”

“Have you eaten something?”

She shook her head. Her stomach had refused almost any type of food this week. She’d breakfasted on tea and half a slice of bread, but that had been hours ago.

“Promise me you’ll eat something when you get home, all right?” Patrick asked.

“I’ve almost grown used to feeling faint. It all started with my budding feelings for you,” she quipped. When she saw the concern on his face, she tried to smooth some of his wrinkles away with her thumb. “I promise I’ll eat something.”

Patrick brought her to the door of his office, his hand on the small of her back.

How I want him, she thought. She glanced over her shoulder, at the desk. Look where that wanting brought us.

“Don’t worry about that teacup,” Patrick said. “I’ll ask one of the nurses to clean it up. Just take the paper and…”

They’d reached the kitchen, but it was not empty.

Sister Julienne stood with the paper in her hand, her face as pale as the sheet had been before Shelagh had dropped her tea on it. Her eyes flicked up when she saw them.

“Sister Julienne. I didn’t know…” Patrick started.

“I came to see if the results of Mrs. Mann’s pregnancy test were in. I couldn’t find them, so I went to the kitchen to make myself some tea whilst I waited for you, Doctor.” She raised the sodden paper with a trembling hand.

I’m going to faint, Shelagh thought as her eyes met that of her former sister. She couldn’t feel her legs.

“Imagine my surprise when I found the list here. Why, pray tell me Shelagh, is your name on this list? And why does it say that you are pregnant?” Sister Julienne asked. Her voice shook even more than her hands did.

“I…” Shelagh’s vision became spotty. “I think I’m going to faint,” she murmured, and collapsed against Patrick.

#call the midwife #turnadette #shelagh turner #patrick turner #sister julienne #dramatic fainting haha

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star-maiden-fufu · 7 years ago

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[Fanfic] The Fallen Angel’s Treat

Summary: Even if it doesn't work out as planned, Yoshiko was going to enjoy her Halloween. Riko would make sure of it. YohaRiko Halloween Oneshot

Rating: K+

Word count: 2,381 words

Characters: Tsushima Yoshiko, Sakurauchi Riko

Pairings: YohaRiko

Notes: Happy Halloween~ Have some YohaRiko! One thing I’d like to note about this fic is that I’m not 100% on it, I would like to revisit it at some point and hopefully flesh it out. I’d like to hear from youse reading what you think of it though, if certain points don’t sound right or if you’d like to see certain scenes like the actual trick or treating the two go through. But other than that, I hope you like this~

External Links: FFNet, Ao3

Yoshiko wanted to go trick or treating.

Riko’d be lying if she said that she was surprised, but at the same time, maybe she was a little bit. After all, they were teenagers; by all accounts they were “too old” for such a thing, not that there was necessarily any rule against it. It was more a case of what people would think, seeing a group of teenagers out knocking on doors asking for candy.

At least they should’ve been a group; Yoshiko had asked both Riko and Mari to join her over their separate subunit group chat. And in fact it was Mari’s own insistence that Riko join them, since she was originally going to back out.

Yet just as the sun was beginning to set outside, painting the clouds an array of oranges and pinks, Yoshiko showed up, alone.

“Mari said she couldn’t make it,” the 1st year said, strutting into Riko’s home as soon as the door opened and leaving the other girl a bit floundered at the entrance. She turned, the many layers of her frilly skirt swishing with her, as she asked, “Wait, what do you mean she can’t make it? She was just as up for this as you were.”

Yoshiko shrugged, having planted herself on Riko’s couch in the living room. “She just said she ended up making plans with Kanan and Dia that she couldn’t skip out on.” Riko sighed, already feeling annoyed at how the night had started. But the night was still young and Yoshiko still wanted to go through with the event, given that she’d still shown up rather than texting a cancellation.

In fact, Yoshiko had shown up in costume, though her choice of outfit left Riko slightly confused. “Actually Yocchan, why are you dressed like a vampire?” Yoshiko smirked as she leapt to her feet, giving a twirl to show off the costume. The simple black cape on her back twirled with her, curling around her dark pant-clad legs before she held it open, leaving her long sleeved, white frilled shirt clear to see.

“It seemed appropriate, given that such creatures of the night are similar to fallen angels,” she chuckled, showing off the plastic fangs she had protruding from her top lip, “Abominations of god, doomed to lurk in the shadows, and while vampires may live forever, they too are fated for hell once their immortal lives are ended.”

“Uh...okay. But why not just go dressed as an angel anyway?”

Yoshiko’s eyes narrowed and her smirk fell. “That would be admitting that Yohane is nothing but a facade! To go out in “costume” would be denying my true self!” Riko couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the dramatic performance. However, she then jumped when Yoshiko suddenly pointed a finger at her, saying, “And what of you? What creature have you decided to adorn upon yourself?”

“I’m not a creature, Yocchan, I’m a maid,” Riko deadpanned, as she brushed down the skirt of her dress, “To be honest, I didn’t really want to have to go out and buy a whole new costume, so I just picked out one of the outfits we wore for an old photoshoot.” Specifically, it’d been the shoot from nearer the start of the year, a valentine's shoot; an overly frilly dress in pink and cream with extra petticoats to give the skirt extra lift, a corset around her waist, and shiny pink shoes with ribbons wrapped up her leg.

However, she’d foregone the overly elaborate bonnet that they’d worn with the dresses during the shoot, and instead switched it with a smaller headband that they’d worn with a different set of dresses during the same shoot. She’d also taken the colder weather into consideration, adding a pair of thick white tights and a shawl for her shoulders.

Yoshiko circled the girl, taking in the outfit as though she were seriously appraising it, before she finally nodded. “Perhaps it’s a little lazy to simply re-wear something else, however, it is also practical if you already have something on hand,” she mumbled. She then hit her fist into her open palm, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Well it’s fine! We’re good to go then!” Yoshiko cheered, picking up the plastic pumpkin pot she’d brought with her for candy collection, then racing out the door. Riko simply sighed, picking up the plastic bag she’d dug out for the outing, and followed after her friend.

~*~*~

The night had not gone well for the intrepid trick or treaters. Aside from a few kind souls - plus one or two misunderstandings when the two pulled up at a house alongside a group of children - their haul was rather paltry. Eventually, with the lights of the houses going out to signify the end of the night’s event, the two migrated to the cafe where Aqours ended to meet after school, if they weren’t training or practising.

“I can’t believe we barely got anything,” Yoshiko huffed, slouching in her seat, her barely filled pumpkin sitting on the table. Given a better outcome, she would’ve gladly emptied the contents onto the table, then encouraged Riko to do the same (Figuring out who gets what back when they then split the pile again would’ve come later). However as it stood, she simply left the pot and its meager spoils be.

Riko sat across from Yoshiko with her own limp bag hanging off her lap, frowning at the girl’s pouting expression. “I mean, I kinda understand. We’re both a little too old for this sort of thing,” she said, grimacing as she recalled at least a few of the houses laughing them off, or even chastising them for trying to take away from the little kids that were out celebrating. Yoshiko’s pout morphed into a scowl as she cried, “Does that really matter?! We were out to have fun!” She then reached into her mouth, pulling the plastic fangs off her teeth and throwing them onto the table, grumbling, “The glue for these tastes awful.”

Unsure of how to respond to Yoshiko’s gripes, Riko took a drink from the water she’d bought. The two sat in silence, taking in the bustle of the cafe around them - the workers behind the counter, families with tired kids enjoying a chance to sit down in the warmth.

“Hey,” Riko piped up, catching Yoshiko’s attention away from a family pouring over the candy they’d collected (And Yoshiko would later insist that, no, she wasn’t jealous!), “why didn’t you do this with Ruby and Hanamaru? Were they busy?”

Yoshiko scooched herself into a proper sitting position, only to them slump onto the table, half burying her face in her arms. “No. But I wanted this night to be just you, me and Mari. But when Mari couldn’t make it, I did try and call Ruby and Hanamaru, to see if they’d join in.” Yoshiko then pouted again as she continued, “But apparently, some brat kids decided to prank Ruby’s house really early on, and it freaked her out. She absolutely refused to leave, which is why Hanamaru was with her, since Dia was busy.”

“I see,” Riko frowned, “That’s a shame.” Neither said anything after that, but before another quiet period settled between them again, Riko then said, “I’m sorry tonight didn’t really work out.” Yoshiko shrugged, yet didn’t respond. Her entire attitude spoke for her though.

“Maybe we can try again next year?” Riko suggested, though she couldn’t put too much oomph into it; by then she’d be a third year, and Yoshiko a 2nd year, and there’d be even less of a chance of them getting any kind of decent haul.

Yoshiko again simply shrugged.

Riko just turned back to her water, sipping quietly and watching the moonlit waves outside the window.

~*~*~

It wasn’t till the cafe was beginning to close that the two finally made to move. Riko offered that they go back to her house to sit for a bit, perhaps even watch a movie to make the most of the rest of their night. Yoshiko didn’t argue.

They wandered along in silence, Yoshiko still feeling too down to converse, while Riko let her thoughts drift off, musing over the night’s happenings.

It was as they neared Riko’s house - the sound of giggling from both Chika and You greeting them from Chika’s room as they passed - that the 2nd year got an idea. Glancing at her still downcast friend, Riko nudged the girl and motioned for her to hurry as she sped ahead. “Come on, we’re almost there!” Perplexed, Yoshiko hurried after the girl.

They stopped at the door, but rather than open it for them both, Riko turned to the other and said, “Wait here for a bit, please.” Pouting, Yoshiko said, “Eh? Why?”

“Just please, I won’t be long,” Riko responded, giving her friend an apologetic smile before she quickly entered the house, closing the door behind her. Yoshiko grumbled some, curious as to Riko’s actions, yet frustrated by the cold wind that began to pick up and made her wrap herself in her own cape, which didn’t help her already sour mood. All she could do though was wait for Riko to return, hopefully to let Yoshiko into her house before she froze in the cold.

Rocking back and forth on her heels, kicking at nothing on the ground, examining the small details on the door, Yoshiko tried to bide her time. It felt like Riko was taking forever!

(In reality, it was only a couple of minutes, but that was still time wasted to the fallen angel!)

Finally, her phone buzzed in her pocket, making her jump in surprise as she wasn’t expecting it. She dug it out quickly, fumbling with it slightly due to her numb fingers. It was a text from Riko, simply saying, “Knock on the door.” Yoshiko’s curiosity finally seemed to override her irritation, and she rapped on the door with surprising enthusiasm. She waited with bated breath, though the wind still caught her and made her shiver.

There were some quick thumps from the other side, and then the door opened; Riko stood in the doorway, her shawl discarded, holding a glass bowl full of chocolate bars big and small, and cookies, and even a bundle of strawberries wrapped in clear plastic. Despite the blush on her face, Riko beamed at her “visitor” and said, “Ah, you must be a trick or treater!”

A stupid smile began to grow on Yoshiko’s face as she figured out what was happening, though she still snapped to attention as she realised she still had a part to play. “Oh, uh, yeah! Trick or treat!” She held out the pumpkin pot for Riko, who smiled back and began to carefully pour the contents of her bowl into Yoshiko’s pumpkin through the small opening.

Yoshiko chuckled, trying to help with the transfer as best she could as she said, “You didn’t have to do this. The movie would’ve been enough.”

“Maybe. But do you feel a little better now?”

“Hm...yeah.” Both girls laughed, finishing the exchange of sweets as Riko finally allowed Yoshiko into her home. Shoes were left by the door as they moved into the living room, Riko pointing out a small cabinet near the tv, offering the choice of movie to Yoshiko. Not that Yoshiko was much impressed by the selection, which she made clear to her host, “Geez Riri, you’ve not even got any good scary movies here! How we supposed to get in the spirit without a scary movie?”

“Well I’m sorry me and my mom don’t do horror. You’ll have to pick the next best thing or something else,” Riko responded, though there was good humour behind her retort. She giggled at the other girl’s drawn out, “Fiiiiine,” as she began the ascent up the stairs so she could get changed.

When she returned, dressed in her pajamas, she was also carrying another pair, folded in her arms. Yoshiko was still sat on the floor by the tv and the cabinet, her cape discarded onto the sofa, and a small tower of dvds in front of her.

“Okay, so these are probably the best movies we could watch tonight, no offense to you or your mom’s tastes, so we just have to pick from these,” she announced, turning to face Riko as she heard her enter. Yet surprise quickly crossed her features as she registered the folded pajamas being held out to her. She took the pile hesitantly, with Riko saying, “These are an old pair of mine. They should fit you, since given the time, you’re probably not gonna make it home for tonight.”

Yoshiko couldn’t help but hide her quickly blushing face behind the clothes, responding, “I, uh...I told my mom I’d probably stay with you and Mari since we’d be out late. She was okay with it as long as whoever’s mom was alright too.” Riko gently smiled back. “I’m sure my mom wouldn’t have any problems with you staying the night.”

She then picked up the dvd on top of the tower, saying, “This one’s pretty good. It’s not scary, but I doubt any of these are.”

“They’re not,” Yoshiko said, rolling her eyes, yet she was smiling all the same. She crawled across the floor and onto the sofa as Riko set up the dvd. Few words were exchanged as they both set up for the night, aside from Yoshiko opting to stay in her costume for now, saying she’ll change later, and Riko offering drinks.

When Riko finally settled on the sofa with the other girl, Yoshiko grabbed her cape and threw it over them both, wrapping them both in it like a blanket. She then reached over to the other end of the sofa and retrieved her candy bucket, placing it between the two. Yoshiko opened the makeshift strawberry bag, holding it out for Riko to take one before taking one for herself. The two then curled up close under the vampire cape, the living room lights still on and Yoshiko’s borrowed pajamas off to the side as they started the movie.

It might not have been the best Halloween Yoshiko or Riko had ever experienced, but it ended up being special anyway.

#fufu's fanfic #writing #love live #love live sunshine #sakurauchi riko #tsushima yoshiko #tsushime yohane #yohane #yohariko #long post

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