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solomonish · 4 years ago

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Love is Just a Feeling I Do Not Need (Lucifer x Reader)

Even if this dream isn’t yours, just keep dreaming it.

based off of this song.

ao3 link: here!

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me It's not my act and it's driving me crazy That gaze you're giving me, that voice and that face I see Ah, don't you know? I hate them so-o-o

Though Lucifer was normally a fan of reliability and structure, this was a routine he wouldn’t mind going on without.

Every Thursday, sometime between the hours of 5 and 6 o’clock, you and Mammon would find yourselves shuffling nervously in front of his desk, shoulders hunched in anticipation for the verbal lashing you were about to receive. Most often than not, he’d direct his frustration towards Mammon, saving the gentler reprimands for you. It isn’t that he intended to go easy on you - if anything, he truly thought you could do with a little more firm punishment - but you normally got roped into Mammon’s schemes in the middle of trying to stop them. It was a noble, yet foolish, effort, and forcing yourself through the same vicious cycle seemed punishment enough for your naivety.

If ever there was a chance at levelling with you, Lucifer would hope you’d agree that receiving such a punishment was him was a blessing in disguise. He never lacked in the discipline department, but compared to the types of demons out there that weren’t bound by honor or loyalty and would love to take a bite out of you, his lectures were hardly anything to complain about. Though you’d furrow your brows or glower at him every now and then, it was your sweetness that got you into your messes and it was what allowed those transgressions to pass. He could tell that, as burdensome as you clearly thought he was in these moments, you never intended to interrupt his work or irk him beyond repair.

However, even the sweetest of fruits could rot if left on the table for long enough, and you were no different.

Lucifer had hoped that you might be a good influence on Mammon, or at least teach him a little bit of responsibility, but it seemed the influencing was happening the other way around. You got braver with your challenging looks and quips of defiance, only pushing the boundaries further the longer you were in the devildom. Perhaps, in his effort to allow you to ruminate on your actions yourself, he had spoiled you, for you were certainly acting far out of the bounds of what was appropriate for your situation. Not only did you seem to find your consistent troublemaking a persistent problem that needed fixing, but you also thought that, in a house filled with some of the most powerful demons in the realm, you found it a wise decision to directly challenge him, the oldest, the one most capable of hurting you. Lucifer wasn’t known for his tendency to hold back his anger or his punishments, and exchange students didn’t exactly have the privilege of diplomatic immunity.

Even worse, when he told you as much, all you had to say for yourself was, "You know, you don't have to put on this authoritative act for every little thing just to earn my respect."

Even worse for you, you had a lopsided smile that you couldn't repress, one full of arrogance and challenging him directly. He clenched tighter onto his desk, not quite sending spindling fractures through the wood but hearing it creak in protest all the same. Almost immediately, that cocky grin slipped off your face and you murmured an apology, lowering your head in submission in the hopes he would only continue his lecture and not add on to the punishment.

If the work slotted into his day had been any less, he would have come up with some sort of punishment for you. Your sudden cowardice was not enough to force his pride to keel. But his workload was already too immense to be dealing with a human’s daring - stupid - display of defiance, so he waved you off shortly after and stewed over his reports.

Lucifer didn’t miss the way you practically scurried out of his office, nor could he block out the harsh whispers outside his door as Mammon fussed over you. For a brief moment, he figured that he should call you back, give you a fitting punishment for your continued antics and save the future version of himself from these headaches. However, he knew that it’d only breed harsher animosity within you, and you would only work harder to annoy him. At the mere thought, his headache returned, and he focused on the paper on the desk in his attempt to block out the pain.

Whether it was due to your tendency to attract danger or his own tendency to micromanage once given a job (and dedicated to his task to assist in the exchange program he was), Lucifer found himself keeping an eye on you whenever he could. Oftentimes, he was out of your range, working in his office or assisting Diavolo wherever he may be in the expansive school. Even during class, when he wasn’t pulled aside to help Diavolo, he was in some of the most advanced classes in the school, all far above your level as a human thrown into an unfamiliar realm. That was one of the reasons he assigned you as Mammon’s responsibility - even though he did know, deep down, that his brother would rise to the occasion, he was also the only brother in a few of the lower level classes you had. That was a thought he didn’t dare linger on for too long, lest he feel another flare of anger build up.

Still, there were moments when he passed you in the hall, or beckoned you to follow him into his office to smooth over some administrative details regarding your exchange student status in the Devildom. Each time you turned your back, he found himself watching you leave, as if his gaze alone was enough to send you safely on your own. Nobody caught him staring - and if they did, they had the wisdom to pretend they didn’t. Yet you were human in every aspect of the word, tactless, weak and unwise, and when you caught his gaze - which he hated to admit had happened, and hated even more to count exactly how many times it happened - you smiled at him kindly. Those times, you weren’t planning anything or hoping to annoy him. You were merely treating him like a friend, giving him a silent greeting when you knew he wouldn’t make his way over to you to meet you properly.

Treating him like a friend...treating him with as much familiarity as you did his brothers? The thought insulted him. If you weren’t afraid of him, he would have to amend that quickly. Until he could see the respect in your gaze, and until he could be certain you feared him how he wanted you to, he loathed that stupid grin on your face as much it made his stomach churn.

It isn't fate or a miracle that brought us here Expecting nothing, it all remains so unclear Since I don't mind if you aren't really the best I'm sure that we'll be fine Come and hold me tight

Weeks and months did nothing to quell your troublesome nature. If anything, the more familiar you found yourself with your surroundings, the more you tried to bend the rules until they broke. Lucifer was aware of all of your antics - at least, he certainly hoped there weren’t any he was missing, because then he’d wonder if your feeble human body could handle all of that activity. Still, Lucifer was a man who knew how to pick his battles, no matter what his behavior with his brothers may say. More often than not, he warned against the stupid ideas he could see brewing in your mind, figuring that if there was no stopping you he could at least instill you with the proper sense of caution.

If he sat too long on the thought of how much trouble you really did cause, the only thought in his mind screamed the audacity! What kind of entitlement did you think you had? How could one human decide this realm was theirs to meddle with?

It was infuriating how much you managed to get wrapped up in, despite your inexperience. Perhaps it was that inexperience that had you scrambling about the Devildom like a new, untrained puppy that insisted on chewing everybody’s shoes? (This is why Lucifer never allowed pets, he realized. If his brothers couldn’t control a creature they could communicate with, how could they control an animal?) Maybe you assumed that being under the care of the seven demon lords meant you had some sort of immunity to the consequences of your antics. But being under their care did not mean they cared for you, and it was time that you realized just how lucky it was that you managed to survive this long.

Brash as it may sound, you weren’t anything special. At best, you were extraordinarily lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you enjoyed the exchange program); one human chosen out of billions. You had no standing here, not one of chosen status, no power or understanding of the magic that ruled the world around them.

It did work in your favor, if only a little bit. At least this way, Lucifer had no expectations of you coming in, so your disruptive behavior was no more disappointing than was to be expected. He had no image of you in his mind, nothing for you to contradict. It’s not as if you really cared what he thought, but it sure saved him the bother of reconciling his mental image with the unfortunate reality you were. Of course, that also meant that he didn’t always know what kind of trouble you were about to stir up, just that you would definitely stir up some trouble.

It isn’t until he hears a loud crash and your voice among the startled yelps that he realizes how much time he took from his reports to reflect on you.

Or rather….on your behavior.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

Yes, this was the best solution.

He noticed the way your shoulder tensed when you heard his footsteps. Have you learned the sound of his footsteps already? How cute.

You were sitting at a table in the library with Satan standing not too far away. Lucifer remembered Mammon begging someone to be your escort home so he could take care of some business with the witches, and after some arguing and a firm interruption by yours truly, Satan was tasked with bringing you home safely. Of course, he had to stop in the school library first - some human wasn’t going to force him to change his plans. You had the wisdom to take out an assignment to work on, clearly one of the easier ones that wouldn’t be too disturbed if you stopped in the middle when Satan was prepared to leave.

Lucifer didn’t plan on stopping in the library, but Diavolo was stuck in a separate meeting and he happened to be walking by, so why shouldn’t he check on the human in his charge?

He approached you with quiet, even steps, enjoying the way you went stiff as soon as he was near enough to start speaking to you. You looked to be expecting that, though, and he just couldn’t have that. No, instead he stepped directly behind your chair, placing one hand on the back of it so his gloved knuckles barely brushed against your shoulder. Bending at the waist, he leaned down so his chin almost touched your other shoulder, his breath ghosting your ear as he peered down at the paper in front of you.

“I see you’re taking your duties here in the Devildom seriously for once,” He started, his voice almost a deep purr. “Diavolo will be pleased to hear this report.”

You were fighting a shiver at the sound of his voice alone. He knew that you knew that he could feel the way you held back your shiver. That probably pleased him more than if you had actually done it.

“U-uh, yeah,” You stammered, fiddling with your pencil. “I’m just...trying to get some work done.”

He hummed, looking over your answers and taking his sweet time doing so. The longer he remained leaning by your side, the more he could hear your breath shallowing. Even if he was in charge of your safety, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still have a little bit of fun with the human that had a penchant for having too much fun with him.

Before you could swat him away, he quickly straightened himself out and patted your shoulder. Satan had returned by that point, just rounding the corner of a bookshelf and narrowing his eyes the moment he saw Lucifer. A second later, his eyes drifted down to you and he furrowed his eyebrows - clearly, Lucifer had affected you much more than he could see, and the thought made him preen himself on the inside.

“I trust you’ll keep up the good work. Keep an eye on them, Satan.”

His cold demeanor was back, and neither of you had anything to say about it. How joyful things turned out to be.

Much to your chagrin, Lucifer was a fast learner, and he took to flustering you just enough to keep you sedated when he felt you’d cause trouble. At first, all it took was a little invasion of your personal space, a targeted breath or a pat on the shoulder, all things you could easily brush off as just him trying to communicate a point the way humans do. After a while, you built up a feeble tolerance that he could send toppling down again by switching those pats to gentle strokes. He might be getting friendly with you, but you never made any attempt to push him away.

He didn’t have any ulterior motives. He could justify himself by saying this was the only way to keep you under control. Lucifer may not have been the avatar of lust, but he was never one to be shown up by his brothers. Seduction was an art form he had mastered long ago, and even if he wasn’t purposely intending to bed you, he was a maestro at using his skills to affect you. Besides, the faces you made and the way you flustered yourself when he was even in the same room as you was enough to encourage him to keep going.

It didn’t matter that, after a while, Mammon had convinced you to get back into his schemes. It didn’t matter that when Lucifer asked you sly questions about finishing your work, you had some response about needing to have time to make his life even harder.

There was no harm in trying to keep you charmed, was there? Not when you seemed to be enjoying it so.

It's no use to just regret all night long So instead of mourning why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, can't you see? Love me till I hurt oh baby, come dance the night away with me

This was a song and dance the two of you learned the steps to quickly, one that went on for much longer than it had any right to. This was a fact you realized when it, quite literally, culminated in a dance.

Lucifer considered himself a master of tact, figuring that he could settle your tomfoolery once and for all with a rather serious talking to. Maybe, since this time you conversation would happen in public with the prince as a witness, you might listen and take some of his words to heart. Or, in the worst case scenario, at least he could be sure to keep your attention for long enough to get a meaningful message across.

Getting you alone was easy enough. Though you were surrounded by some of his brothers, it seemed Mammon was the only other one interested in separating you from the group and was stumbling over himself in his efforts to make it happen. Besides, even with the way you disregarded every warning he gave you, at least you learned that Lucifer only ever asks as a formality. So, he found himself leading you by the hand to the middle of the floor, placing a hand on your waist as casually as one can and mimicking the way the others moved around you.

“What is it you’re plotting with Asmo?” In order to keep the conversation between the two of you, he leaned down slightly to mutter in your ear - not close enough to raise any suspicions, but close enough that you could certainly feel just how much he had you in his grasp. Moments ago, he had already made you aware of his intentions, so the shocked expression on your face really had no right to be there. Still, he couldn’t say he didn’t find a sort of pleasure in the way he could practically hear your blood rush through your veins as you tried to keep up your facade of control. Unfortunately for the both of you, you were as easy to see through as you were frustrating.

“Let me make one thing clear,” He practically hissed, enjoying the way you shivered. “I respect my brothers’ freedom to do as they wish. However, if I ever sense that you’ve become a threat to Diavolo or us, then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?”

Lucifer made sure to snake his arm around your back, holding you against him and gripping your hand with as much strength as he could without truly hurting you. He had effectively caged you in, making sure that you knew there was no escape from the way he knew things needed to be done. And you really needed to stop poking your nose into their business.

“I-I want to be good friends with all of you, Lucifer,” You answered, giving a pathetic tug to the hand in his grasp. Without responding, Lucifer narrowed his eyes at you and relaxed his grip slightly. Somehow, you proved yourself to be a bigger fool than he originally thought.

“Well, that is not what I want.”

He watched your face fall at that, and there was the strangest coil in his stomach at that reaction. What, had you genuinely thought you could just waltz into the Devildom and call the Demon Lords your pals? What would you even have to gain from that?

Before he could admonish you further, Solomon appeared from the crowd, offering you a smile that was so casual it could only be practiced. For just a moment, his eyes flickered to your waist, where Lucifer’s grip was still strong - Lucifer didn’t dare loosen up, lest Solomon think he had any shame in being “caught.”

When Solomon asked to steal you away, Lucifer obliged, sending you off with what could only be described as a warning glance. You seemed relieved to be in the hold of somebody else, and Lucifer couldn’t blame you. At least you seemed to have some common sense about you. Still, he couldn’t deny the way the coil in his stomach only got tighter.

He figured it was just a result of both human exchange students being massive headaches and did his best to brush it away.

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me You're in my world now, away from reality As long as I can toy with you for just a moment Then I don't mind, if you aren't really mine

Perhaps Lucifer was a fool for thinking if he left you alone you wouldn’t fester.

You had managed to be so, so much worse than he ever expected you to be. It wasn’t enough to simply meddle in the affairs of the brothers so readily available to you - no, five demons were not enough to sate your endless need for trouble. So, in the few months you had been in the Devildom, you decided to somehow find the one brother he needed to keep hidden from you and, in the process of going against explicit orders, set Belphegor free and get yourself killed. For a moment, seeing your lifeless body in Mammon’s arms, Lucifer wasn’t sure what had thrown him off: seeing his brother free and knowing the punishment that was charging towards him fast enough that he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop it, or the mountain of paperwork that would surely come from this turn of events. Mammon’s desperate denial echoing through the entrance of their manor wasn’t exactly helping, either.

But then you did the only thing you did better than causing endless migraine for Lucifer: you fixed your mistakes and started building something better from them.

After you revealed yourself and let the brothers know that you were still alive - while also somehow airing everybody’s dirty laundry at once, something he made a note to talk to you about - he watched as somehow, slowly, his brothers looked at each other with the same appreciation they used to in the Celestial Realm, lurking just beneath the surface. Sure, there was still plenty of progress to be made, but he finally saw a fracture in the insurmountable mountain he had been facing for thousands of years - and it was all because of you.

With the churning feeling the thought brought him, he started to understand how love and hate were thought of as two sides of the same coin.

Leviathan could be found peeking out of his room slightly more often, gravitating to the room you were in with a handheld device and offering to show you what he was playing. Satan took his books out, too, sitting in the same room as you and occasionally casting what he thought were sneaky glances your way. Asmodeus insisted on spending more time with you in his own way, trying to hide the way he held your face in his hands a little longer than necessary by saying he was assessing the state of your skin. Beel seemed more open around you, occasionally dropping snacks in your lap without needing to be asked, giving you a look that seemed to both ask if you were alright and assure you that he was when you met eyes. Even Belphegor had warmed up to you, trying to sandwich himself in between you and anybody close to you or pulling you away to quieter spaces where he could nap in your presence. Lucifer watched as the unease gradually melted away from your expression with each attempt he made to get you alone, until you seemed to feel safe with him.

As usual, Mammon stayed by your side, especially in the days after your...incident. There were many times when you would sit on a couch in the common room, only for Mammon to come flying in moments later and sit so close to you he was practically on your lap. Lucifer bit his warnings for him to be careful back at least half of the time, deciding that this puppy-dog behavior at least seemed to be keeping the two of you out of trouble.

Trouble…

It only took your untimely death and a harsh reminder of just how close you had managed to get to his brothers to force him into realizing that trouble was all he ever thought you of. Lucifer couldn’t quite decipher why that left such a sour taste in his mouth. Perhaps it was the fact that since the incident with Belphegor, he had barely seen you. Honestly, he only saw you a fraction of the day compared to the amount of times he needed to usher you into his office to set you straight beforehand. As embarrassed as he was to be suffering through such...withdrawal, a long day of stress from his brothers had him summoning for you before dinner.

You only opened the door enough to squeeze yourself through, sneaking in as if he were a sleeping lion you shouldn’t dare to wake. He watched as you slowly made your way in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers the way you did when you were nervous. Strange. As far as he knew, you hadn’t done anything wrong. He hoped that if you did, you had the wisdom to keep your mouth shut.

“You wanted to see me?” You asked in a small voice. Lucifer held you in a steady gaze, glad that Mammon decided not to follow you this time. He’d have known how much of an act this was from the get go and scold him for ‘making the move on his human.’

“Yes.” Lucifer took his sweet time shuffling through the papers on his desk, watching you through his peripheral vision. He could feel your stress levels rising as you waited for an unknown blow, watching as you subconsciously fidgeted the longer he let the silence go on. When he decided that he had teased you enough, he leaned back in his chair and said, “I merely wanted to see how our exchange student was doing.”

“H-huh?!” You asked. Indignation flashed on your face in the most wonderful display before quickly being taken over by your practiced calm facade. “O-oh, I’m fine, thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

“Well….yeah. I’m good.”

Clearly, you weren’t one for conversation right now. With a sigh, he leaned back and thumbed through the papers on his desk again before pulling one out of the stack and placing it in front of him. Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached in his drawer and pulled out a small stack held together with a paperclip and dropped that one on top of the single sheet, holding back a smirk at the way you flinched.

“Good. Then I suppose we can get started on this paperwork about the whole accident.”

“What?!”

“Well, we still have to file an accidental death report. Or perhaps we should fill out an injury notice…? Ah, nevermind. It seems you’re up for both.”

He allowed you to turn on your heel and leave without another word. After staring at the now-empty space for a moment, he put the stack of absentee notices back in his drawer and continued on with his work.

It isn't jealousy or hate that made me act like that I'm not like her, so there's no need to get mad I know my way around this heat that we feel So don't worry, just enjoy Don't give me that look, boy!

You ran your hand down the side of your face, trying in futility to wipe the sleepiness from your mind. Sitting in the dimly lit office, you listened as Lucifer droned on about your test grade. The lecture had turned into a study session, which you appreciated, but it quickly turned back into a lecture after one too many mistakes on your part. You could see the irritation clear on his face, yet he was speaking to you as if you had just been caught plotting something treasonous against Diavolo.

You tried to huff quietly, but Lucifer’s sharp ears heard you. The stony glare he held you in woke you up instantly. “Oh, is this too boring? Perhaps that explains your performance.”

Already having been caught, you sighed. “No, Mammon has just been keeping me up lately.” It was too late in the night to think about how you accidentally ratted him out.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed so you could only see the red seemingly glowing with the rage he was hardly holding back. Stopping the pacing he had taken up an hour ago, he turned towards you and took long strides to stand in front of the desk until he was beside his chair. You kept your sleepy gaze locked on his eyes, a silent challenge for him to back down. What would he do to the precious, fragile little human while they’re half asleep?

With a sigh, Lucifer closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his own way of breaking the stare-off without really admitting defeat. “I should have known he had something to do with this.”

“Hey…” If Lucifer ended up punishing Mammon for your own slip-up with your grades, you’d be feeling guilty about it for weeks. “It wasn’t really his fault. I should know by now how much studying I need to do…”

“Hmph. Since this leads back to him, I suppose I have no choice. The two of you are banned from seeing each other until I can come up with a fitting punishment and study regimen to set you both straight.”

“What?” You stood up from your chair, not changing how he literally looked down on you but feeling as if you looked more imposing. “You can’t just do that!”

“I will do what I must to keep you on track, as is my responsibility.”

“You cannot forbid me from talking to your brothers. Besides, isn’t he supposed to be my guardian?”

“You have more pacts, should the need arise. If he insists on hoarding your time as he has, then-”

“Oh, is that what this is about? I didn’t expect you to be so jealous about it.” You scoffed. “Now you’re really being a Mammon.”

“Do not compare me to him in that way ever again!” He barked at you, slamming a hand down on the desk with a loud bang! That shut you up quickly, and you watched Lucifer warily in case he lost control of himself. For a brief moment, the human glamour surrounding him faded and you saw a flicker of his wings, feathers splayed out and bristled in his anger. “This study session has gotten away from us. You may turn in for the night.”

Despite his mighty anger, the time you spent with him and your inherent recklessness left you unable to cower. The longer you stayed in a stand-off, the more pointed your expression got until you were giving him the most doubtful expression he had ever seen on your face. “You know, I wouldn’t mind spending these nights with you if they didn’t always end with you yelling at me.”

As if on cue, the D.D.D. you left on the desk lit up, allowing Lucifer a glimpse of the many messages and calls left by none other than the second brother. Fighting back a grimace, he watched you snatch it up and collect your books in a hurry. Some of the papers crinkled as you shoved them into your bag, but he didn’t wince - he did play a part in your haste, after all.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who you were going to vent to in a few minutes. Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to care, though, not when he had the distinct feeling he had ruined his chances at a goal he wasn’t aware he was trying to meet.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't take it so untie it as much as you please Close your eyes and stop your breath if you dare Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

He hadn’t intentionally softened up on you, yet he found that he took those words to heart.

After the incident in his office, you told him that you thought you’d study better on your own and improved your grade with your next test. In the weeks leading up to it, Lucifer could hardly get you to stop for him, only seeing you at dinner and when he would text you about urgent transfer student business. Even after he got word of your improved marks, he still had trouble getting to you for long enough to offer a proper congratulations. You really did prove yourself to be a ton of effort time and time again.

It wasn’t until you started to seek him out that he was able to properly communicate with you again.

You found him in the kitchen when he had dinner duty, on a rare night when he didn’t need to bribe someone to pick it up for him. He could feel your presence even with his back turned, aware of the way you leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms. He finished chopping the ingredients on the cutting board in front of him before looking over his shoulder at you curiously.

“Need a hand?” You asked. Something in your voice was different - more confident. Lucifer could hear the challenge in it, even if the details still hadn’t made themselves known.

He gestured to the small pile of dishes in the sink, not about to turn your company away. You nodded and started to run the water, letting silence settle between you. Finding himself watching you for a few beats too long, Lucifer cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his chopped vegetables. He noticed that the second half were chopped a little more unevenly than the other pieces, and he quickly pushed them into the pan.

Clearly, you had taken a page from his book and decided to leave him in wait, biding your time before finally hitting him with your carefully chosen words. Unlike you normally were, he wasn’t on the edge of his seat, sweating in anticipation - but the longer the silence wore on, he found his patience wearing thin. Even if this performance of yours was amusing, he still found himself aggravated by just how far you thought you could push your luck.

Finally, you decided to speak up. “Have I been avoiding you these past few weeks?”

Lucifer didn’t let himself falter in stirring the pot on the stove. “I believe that’s a question only you know the answer to.”

“Hm. Well, I haven’t been meaning to.”

“Based on our last meeting, that much has been hard to tell.”

“Do you really think I’m so petty?” You turned the water on to rinse the bowl in your hands, forcing him to wait until responding.

“With so many strong personalities now bound to you in pacts, it’s hard to tell how their influence will manifest.”

You gave him a bitter laugh, shoving your hands in the water until your palms flattened out on the bottom of the sink. The warm water felt hotter on the skin on your forearms that hadn’t been able to build a tolerance to it. Even if your intent was not to start a petty argument, his intentions clearly didn’t align with yours.

“No, I think I have to solid a grasp on myself to let them do that to me.”

He said nothing, but you could hear his confident footsteps as he approached you. His gaze met yours in a silent challenge as he slid the cutting board in the water, unconsciously allowing himself to gravitate towards you. When he got too close for you, you grabbed a spatulat from the bottom of the sink and gently pressed the flat end against his chest to push him away. Lucifer glanced at his shirt, clearly miffed at the damp stripe across his chest.

“You know, Lucifer, if you want a pact with me, you just have to ask.”

For a moment, the expression on Lucifer’s face was too convoluted for you to make sense of. He certainly didn’t look caught off guard, but he also wasn’t as furious as you thought he’d be. With his eyebrows furrowed together and his gaze searching yours, you couldn’t figure out where his shock and confusion ended and his anger began. You cursed him and how he always seemed to have a grasp on what he let you know through his expressions alone.

Lucifer stood there, hoping that the confusion on your face wasn’t covering something else that would force you away from him. He couldn’t understand how you always managed to pierce through him and see directly into his mind. As he was coming to understand it, he did want a pact with you. Certainly not because he saw how close those brothers of his were to you now, though - he was not the avatar of envy, and he had nothing to be envious of, especially in regards to them - but the thought of his mark on your skin, the thought of you belonging to him in such a way was undeniably appealing.

However, every interaction with you didn’t seem to push him in the direction of ever obtaining such a relationship with you.

Quickly gathering his wits, he only scoffed and went back to his post on the other side of the kitchen. You turned towards your job, too. This time, he wasn’t the only one ruminating in stubborn silence.

I don't feel no guilt, oh, is that so wrong? Ah, instead of asking why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, now you see Love me till I hurt oh baby, come over here and set me free

Asmodeus: You won’t believe what I just found out about the succubus I was telling you about yesterday! Satan: Have you gotten to the seventeenth chapter yet? It really is the turning point, in my opinion. Leviathan: ok thx Lucifer, YOU S*CK!: Heh, yeah, that’ll be perfect. Mammon: Oi, are you even paying attention to me?!?

With a sigh, you turned your D.D.D. off without responding to the messages and tucked it back in your bag.You were already on your way to the House of Lamentation. The brothers could (and would) bother you the moment you walked through the door.

“I’ve sighed like that many times,” Lucifer said beside you, looking down at you with a polite half smile. “My brothers are hounding you again, no doubt.”

“Yeah...they’re quite...affectionate.”

“That is a word you could use,” He agreed. “Though sometimes, not the most accurate.”

You chuckled them, purposely averting your gaze. Part of Lucifer wanted to direct your attention back to him so he could watch the pretty blush that painted your cheeks as you laughed, but he kept his hands to his sides. It was so difficult anymore to know what you were thinking. The closer he got to you, the more he learned to find comfort in your presence, the more he found the pesky feeling of hope cloud his judgement and his crystal-clear vision. How could he be sure that, now that the two of you were finally on good terms, you weren’t comfortable with the relationship? It had been so long since Lucifer had to forge an entirely new relationship, and he had the world’s most troublesome (or second most troublesome, considering your competition) human to work with. Though he was never one to question his own judgement, he still couldn’t help but tsk at the sheer absurdity of the task.

“This is probably the most peaceful walk home I’ve had in a while. It’s astonishing how easy they make getting caught up in trouble on the way seem.”

“Is that why the other day you seemed so shocked when we told you the walk was only a few minutes?”

You chuckled again. “Yeah. All the detours make it seem longer.”

“Perhaps one of these days, I should take you on a detour of my own then?” When you stopped walking, he turned back to give you a sly smile. “I’m not one to be bested by my brothers, you know.”

“Wow, ruthless,” You began walking again and fiddled with your backpack strap nervously. “Maybe I should be the one to plan it, though. I’m not entirely convinced your version of a detour wouldn’t involve more paperwork.”

“Shall I be looking forward to this date, then?” Lucifer could feel the embarrassment radiating off of you. He loved to make you this flustered, so he could realign his sights while you were too preoccupied to hide behind anything. And you just so happened to be unbearably cute with your face turning red. The way you muttered ‘yes’ and dashed up the steps to the house had him preening.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours just keep dreaming it

Bit by bit, Lucifer found himself finally, finally getting closer to you without any unpleasant endings. (Well, save for the ones where one of his brothers interrupted and dragged you away, but the two of you shared a fondness for their shenanigans that made it difficult to stay mad at them.)

Or, well...staying mad at them was difficult for you/.

Lucifer wasn’t upset with his brothers, but there was a certain frustration bubbling up beneath the surface that he had to wrestle down every time he had a moment to wonder about their actions. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to spend time with you - after all, he himself was trying to make himself time in your schedule. Not only that, but the ever-approaching end of the semester was looming over them, and everyone could feel the desperate attempts to get one last bid for your affections in before you left. The whole situation was rather distracting, his far-wandering thoughts only adding to the time he spent hunched over his desk instead of out with you.

Lucifer was not a man to waste time bemoaning facts that he could not change. That did not mean he was immune from all feelings of doubt or irritation. He might have been able to concentrate if there wasn’t such a pesky thought creeping up on him the second he let his mind stray from his papers. Still, he couldn’t help the ugly sensation of being caught in a competition where he might actually be losing.

Though he had faith in your tenacity - that and your boldness were truly qualities to marvel at - Lucifer did wonder just how much you valued availability. He thought that the two of you had come to a silent agreement - that you thought alike, that you felt alike - but as much as he knew what happened beyond the door to his office, you remained the enigma.

It would be so easy if he could just get you to admit that he was the one you thought of above all the others. The desire for such a simple statement, he hid with faux aggravation at your refusal to admit such a simple task. As much as he tried to convince himself that you were hanging out with the others as a replacement for him, he knew just how much and how uniquely you valued the others.

He didn’t need to use force to get what he wanted, but he was slightly accustomed to nothing standing strong in the presence of his power. You, however, never bowed, and it grated at him how much he wanted to rightfully earn that place in your heart and how difficult it was to just get you to say it.

His thoughts distracted him from his papers, his papers distracted him from his thoughts. They all distracted him from you, aside from when he wondered if you were thinking something similar about him.

Are you really asking why you're alone? Turned your back on me and I get why you don't want more Come back, hold me, dear, love me till I scream

Your departure was approaching, and Lucifer found himself alone.

His moments not spent on work or cleaning up after his brothers were normally spent with you. Unless, of course, those moments happened in the early hours of the morning and he should be dead on his pillow.

Perhaps if he found himself graced with your presence, he wouldn’t have slept anyway. It wasn’t sleep he was chasing, after all, but you. You were the one he was vying for, even if his pursuit felt less romantic and more like running after a wild goose. No good things came easy, he told himself. He didn’t need easy.

But your longing glances were getting harder to pull away from, and the days until you left were already in the single digits. It was hard enough to steal you away for a moment, let alone enough time to lay his intentions bare and finally get what you both wanted.

He hated the thought that he had let you take the lead in the relationship in a roundabout sense, so he preoccupied himself with anger over having to do all the hard work himself.

He could list off all the reasons you would return to him, the obvious choice, for hours if asked, and even then only put a dent in the miles of options. The fact that he even considered justifying himself to anyone felt foreign, but he let his mind settle on the thought anyway. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed how you didn’t try to leave the sides of his other brothers, how nobody bothered to knock on his door anymore, too preoccupied with you. He missed you already, and he hadn’t even seen you off yet.

Lucifer knew that you’d come to him eventually. He didn’t doubt you, and he certainly didn’t doubt himself. But you had a habit of making him wait and wonder.

He was just about tired of waiting, he was tired of wondering, and he didn’t know if he could take another dream that only left him more confused than he was when he fell asleep.

Don't you ever wake up baby, keep on dreaming our dream

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ageofevermore · 4 years ago

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Golden

summary → in which Harry doesn’t understand how he can possibly love such a small baby so painfully much.

word count → 1.7k

note → this might require a few deep breaths because oh lord, i really laid the fluff down thick.

add yourself to my taglist

When you and Harry had fallen pregnant it was unexpected. You had been talking about starting a family in the near future, but hadn't felt the need to fall in deep. You were aware of the problems you might face with natural conception, especially due to the stress of being employed by the entertainment industry, but just three days after your conversation, the both of you had gotten carried away in a moment of beautiful love.

You had been on birth control ever since your seventeenth birthday when your mother figured you might begin to explore your sexual desires. It was something she was quite open about, making it easier to tell her that you were seeing a green eyed wonder called, Harry.

It was just after a morning run through LA that you took a test. It was some cheap brand, an impulse buy after laying in bed worrying about your lack of protection weeks prior. You had been paranoid for days, your cycle abnormally long and lacking the usual symptoms of tension and muscle aches. Instead, you had full fledges cramps and headaches.

When the first test came back positive you almost fainted on the floor of your en-suite. Harry was just downstairs and heard the unusual commotion. You were usually light on your feet, a classically trained ballet dancer as a child. It was worrisome to find you doubled over on your hands and knees beside the tipped over nightstand. Harry had immediately rushed to your aid, collecting your frame in his hands and pressing soft kissing to your forehead until he could get your attention. Your eyes were dazed, hands balling into the fabric of his thick black jumper. You were completely beside yourself with joy.

"What's a'matter, moppet?" He mumbled against your forehead, pulling your legs over his lap so her could bring you closer. He softly pried your hands away from his jumper, kissing your clenched knuckles fervently. "Scaring me, love. What's got you so worked up?"

The thought of the positive pregnancy test in your palm brought on a new wave of tears. The tip of your nose trembled as you broke into a wide grin, breaking down completely into Harry's chest with gleefully shocked giggled. Harry didn't waste a minute, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you closer to his chest. Your legs wrapped around him like a koala, but it only made this moment sweater for you. For now, you were the only one that knew about the growing baby making a home for itself inside of you. For years you had overlooked how special this moment would be.

"Pet." Harry cooed, bringing his fingers down your spine. The metal of his rings was cold when he lifted your shirt and tickled your back with scratches. "Gotta tell me what's got you so giddy."

Uncoordinatedly you smashed your lips against Harry's. Your teeth knocked against his harshly, but all you could manage was a smile that left his lips wet, "We're parents." Your whispered.

The end of your pregnancy was brutal, complete with unbearable braxton hicks and obscene swelling. You had been riddled with insomnia for weeks as well, and the throbbing in your fingers was brought on by the wedding band stuck between your knuckles that even elevation and heating pads couldn't help. Harry had done his absolute best to make you comfortable, but even his hour long foot rubs and 3am snack runs did little for you. None of that was relevant now, nor was the stitching holding your torn vagina together. Your baby, sweet Indie Anne Styles, was here. She was perfect, and she was finally before your eyes.

Her warm pink body was flush against your chest. Harry stood off to the side, tears blurring his vision as he took in the picture before him. His first true love was embracing their own little mini. He had no doubts that his little Indie was a product of the truest breed of young love. Indie, Harry wasn't so sure the big name fit her little body and button nose.

"Look at her, lovie." You sniffled, running your finger down her cheek. She had finally stopped wailing, settling into your warmth and letting herself fall asleep in your embrace. You were certain birth was tiring for babies, glad to see that your little love was resting up now and getting ready to experience the life you and Harry had shaped just for her. "She's perfect."

"Knew she would be, love." Harry came closer to the both of you, bending down to press a kiss to your sticky forehead. He loosely grabbed the newborns hand, chocking on a sob when she gripped his thumb. Her grip was tight for such a tiny human, and already Harry was sure he wouldn't be able to live every day with a heart so heavy with love.

Your husband was barely keeping himself together over your shoulder as he admired your daughter. You had gently coaxed a pacifier between her lips after watching her squirm, and the soft pink plastic only brought Harry a new wave of overwhelming love and protection. He never wanted anything to hurt his littlest love, his precious baby Indie.

"Thank you, pet." He cried into your crown, pressing gentle kissed to your hair and face at an uncomfortable angle. He didn't want to hurt you, but he needed to thank you for this moment. It was everything he had always dreamed of and so much more, "Thank you for her. Thank you."

It had taken Harry three weeks to call Indie her name, having a habit of referring to the newborn as 'his little angel'. You didn't mind the title, but hearing her name on the tip of his tongue made you weak. He had taken great to becoming a father, like you knew he would. You had never had any doubts about just how unconditionally Harry would love your little human. He was up with you during every feed, changing all the diapers until you were healed enough to bare standing at the change table for long stretches.

He bought only the best for his Indie too. Her nighttime routine was prepped with high end vegan moisturizers and ointments. Her diapers were made of organic, non toxic, vegan materials. He didn't care for prices, only quality. Harry was as relatively humble man. He never talked about wealth or thought it as anything valuable, but he also, despite what it seems, didn't splurge on high end products often. He had his limits and boundaries, but his money was used wisely and not thrown away on material. He refused to let Indie soak in a cheap diaper though, even when you assured him that most diapers were exceptionally made and there was no need to spend a few hundred dollars every month.

It didn't take long for Indie to form more defined features, one being her insanely bright blue eyes and thin strands of soft blonde hair. You weren't quite sure where your baby girl came from to be honest, seeing as your eyes weren't near the same shade of color as hers nor were Harry's. Her hair was ungodly as well. Almost like your favorite disney film, her locks were strikingly golden. It had only taken a month before you caught Harry above her crib, whispering a fond, "Good morning, golden girl."

Golden had been her name since that dewy spring morning. You couldn't see her as anything but, adoring the nickname Harry had brought upon the three of you. It was odd when you had family visiting and they would refer to your precious Golden as Indie.

It was just after two am when the shrill screams of your infant severed the sleep you and Harry were catching up on. His arm was thrown around your waist, and for a minute neither one of you moved. She was going through a growth spurt meaning the usually laid back baby you shared a house with was needy and desperate for her fathers attention and your satin milk. It was hard to give her what she wanted at times. You knew she was hungry, but she didn't want to leave Harry's arms.

That had happened just the other day. With the luck you were working on, you had forgotten to pack away another pre-made bottle. She was eating so frequently you hadn't had the need to pump, but that decision came back to bite you when she woke up from her nap hungry and only wanting her daddy. You both had eventually figured out a way to please her, but it had been frustrating and stressful on the three of you alike. It was safe to say you were always on top of bottles now.

When Harry finally did pull away from your warmth, he kissed your temple before feeling the room, not before you heard the last of his mutter, "I'm coming, Goldie."

You were sure your heart exploded in that moment. When you saw him again, this time with a squirmy baby impatiently suckling on the nipple of a pacifier, tears were gathering in your eyes. You smiled widely down at your little love, affectionately stroking her cheek. You settle her against your chest, wincing when she latches, but relaxing when her sucks become rhythmic and predictable.

In the darkness Harry couldn't make out your teary smile, instead just moving around the master and preparing another diaper for Goldie, having felt the wet one when he picked her up from the crib moments ago. He could hear you praising the baby for doing such a good job, promising that it was okay if she woke up every thirty minutes, but what caught him off guard was when you brushed your thumb over her cheek and whispered, "Look just as pretty as your Daddy, Goldie."

"Y'heard that, huh?" He stuttered. He knew you weren't too fond of the first few nicknames he had given Goldie, and he was almost fearful that you would reject his shortened version of Golden.

You rolled your eyes softly at his question, patting a patterned on your baby girl's diapered bottom as she nursed with sleepy eyes. "I think it's cute, fits her."

Harry smiled widely at the pair of you, the dim moonlight capturing the perfect moment in his memory. His love for you and Goldie somehow got deeper every day. He never wanted to leave this stripped down midnight moment. This perfectly golden moment.

#dad!harry #Harry Styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #fine line #fine line series #goldie styles #husband!harry #boyfriend!harry #best friend!harry

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spidersbane · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! Can I get MCU, The Hobbit, and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. ship? 💚

Appearance: She/her. 179,5cm tall, rectangle body shape. Fair skin complexion with quite a few birthmarks. Dyed brown with honey-red highlights, shoulder-length, straight hair with bangs. The left eye is a mix of two colors – a smaller portion of (darker) greyish-blue and a larger portion of hazel; while the right eye is just a (lighter) greyish-blue. Heptagon face shape with two dimples on the left cheek and one on the right cheek (only visible while smiling). A gap between the upper front teeth.

Personality (good and bad traits): Ever since I was a kid, I was always quite mature for my age – I identify myself as an old soul. I come off as polite and well-mannered to strangers, yet I tend to keep it to myself by being reserved. But, that’s because I have social anxiety and I’m nervous and shy when meeting/talking to people. The only people I’m comfortable with being with my inner circle – closest friends and family. I am usually more “open” with my friends than with my family. With my friends I can be my “truest-self” – I smile more, I laugh more, I feel more accepted and understood. I am the mom and the fashionista of the group. Don’t get me wrong, I am fiercely protective of my family, especially of my mother and younger sister. But, lately, I’ve been feeling like the “black sheep” of the family, Cinderella who’s been taken advantage of. I express my affection for the people I care about in little, but practical, ways. I can be a little stiff when it comes to open, gushy displays of affection. Others turn to me for help and advice. I’m kind-hearted and generous, always ready to help a person in need. Always have been motherly towards children. Very awkward at keeping small talk (usually with people that I’m not that close with). Absolutely, hate speaking in front of a public, and if I do, because of my nervousness, I tend to mess up my words and/or I practice whatever I’m about to say in my head at first. I appreciate the simplicity and am often most comfortable when I’m not getting too much attention from the world. I am sensitive – both to criticism and to others’ feelings (I sponge up the feelings and moods of people and the environment around me). Have a hard time saying no or expressing my true thoughts, feelings. I get influenced by other people’s opinions/thoughts quite hard (I take everything to the heart), that is why I tend to keep a lot to myself (may come off as a little bit tense, secretive, mysterious). I avoid the harsh reality by daydreaming (almost every day) – imagining myself in situations far from my current circumstances. Sort of like a self-escape. I worry a lot and overthink almost everything. I am easily distracted and my attention span can be quite short. I have an internal struggle between my needs and wants. I can lack focus and be indecisive as a result – when I decide on one route, I am pulled in another direction at the same time (“But what if…”, “on the other hand...”). That is why I’m having a bit of a struggle with deciding what I want to do in the future (career-wise). I am easily overwhelmed by pressure and stress. There is a self-destructive side to me (self-critical, lack of self-confidence) that I’m working on by confronting my fears (coming out of my shell). Don’t like taking pictures, or other people taking pictures of me. I feel most content when I’ve straightened out all the details of everyday life. I have a routine, that I follow by mostly every day, and if something small changes in that routine, I start to have a small internal anxiety attack. Also, I like to do things my own way, like, when it comes to cleaning the house or organizing stuff, etc. I get triggered even if people don’t do the laundry the way I do. I guess you could describe me as a perfectionist, clean/control freak. In triggering situations I can be impulsive, spontaneous, quick to act. Quick flare-ups of anger/annoyance when being provoked on my patience. Even when I’m feeling low, I manage to find humor in life and have fun with whatever I do have. Although I tend to bottle things up, I am an emotional person and my emotions are genuine – I love and care deeply and passionately and wish no ill will upon anyone, yet it hards for me to imagine someone falling in love with me or just liking me.

Hobbies, likes: My hobbies are cleaning, writing (re-writing song lyrics, making small notes, writing stories), listening to any type of music, catching up on my favorite films and TV shows, hanging out with friends, going to the cinema, or the club, being out in nature, reading, traveling. I like history, cooking, fashion magazines (or fashion in general), road trips, spirituality, mythology, books, orange juice, previous decades, cottage-core, dark academia.

Overall: Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bi-sexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. “Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” A feminist, support LGBTQ+ community. That’s it, thank you!

hey @pataim ! thanks so much for sending in your request, and thank you so much for your honesty about yourself. like it takes a lot to air yourself out like that, and I admire your strength for it. but also fINALLY a 'Man from U.N.C.L.E' ship! I love that movie and attempt Illya's accent all the time, so this will be fun :)

For the MCU/Marvel - I ship you with Steve Rogers/Captain America !

no one can tell me that Steve doesn’t have a set routine honestly, so let me just get that out there

he seems intimidating at first, esp as a public figure and Avenger, but Steve is nothing but passionate about what he does. so it may clash w your lack of direction, but I could honestly see him envying that a lil bit, like it’s not that you don’t have direction, it’s the fact that you still have a choice in the matter.

your love of history put you in a museum, here you bumped into Steve in a horrible disguise. he struck up the conversation first, and once you got past the whole “holy crap that’s Captain America”, you could actually engage with him in the material and boi was he smitten

he would love to join you when your rewatched your fave things, bc not only is he catching up on more media he missed out on, he’s also getting to know your interests in a way that’s comfortable with you. it avoids all the small talk, but leaves room for discussion after the film/show !

since you tend to sponge up a lot of what other people believe, it’s totally Steve who actually tries to question what you think and what you feel about things. he’s someone who encourages you to have your own opinions and to stay true to those thoughts. so while with him, you can rely on him to learn about yourself, you also gain skills for independence

overall, Steve is super patient, and despite his chaotic job as Cap, he takes comfort in his routine, and would find comfort incorporating a partner’s routine into his life. and as you grow in a relationship with him, he’s patient about teaching you how to be your own person, and helping you learn more about yourself. and while it’s uncomfortable, you grow stronger throughout being with him :)

For The Hobbit - I ship you with Bilbo Baggins !

Bilbo is the definition of introvert, and you're right there with him

not that introversion is ever a bad thing, bc it isn't. but Bilbo is quite content to sit in his little hobbit hole and vibe. like Gandalf had to come find him, ya know. dude disappeared from his own bday.

but anyways. it's not that Bilbo lacks purpose, it's just that he's more content with a quieter life. and it seems like his quiet life would balance you out well! like the Shire is so so chill, and there doesn't really seem to be a lot of pressure on the hobbits to pick a profession. like they just genuinely do what needs to get done.

similarly, Bilbo is the type who seems a little bothered by mushy displays of affection. exhibit a: disappearing from his own bday. like he's much more the type to refill your tea when y'all are reading by the fireplace, which he would totally do w you

it will probs take you a little while to warm up to each, given just how introverted you both are. but when he explains that he has set ways of doing things, then if they're compatible w your ways of doing things, then it doesn't take you long to open up to him

like it'll be a little jarring, but he takes comfort in his routines too. and it'll be an event trying to incorporate both of your ways of life together, but he's willing to do it

overall, yours is a very quaint partnership, built on deep respect for one another. neither of you are going to push the other to do things you aren't into. and y'all just live your best lives together tbh :)

For The Man From U.N.C.L.E - I ship you with Illya Kuryakin !

I love my big Russian spy so much, so this is fun for me

so Illya is the epitome of reserved and generally quiet, so it might take a while to really break down his walls and talk to him. and he's not quite sure what to do with you once you join the team

but, he's playing his game of chess alone, and when you sit down and ask to play with him, he opens up a little more after that

if you're one who get sent out on mission with the team, get ready, bc sometimes those missions require a lot of improvising. but you'd probably be at whatever 'base' was, helping run operations from a more secure place. but Illya and Napoleon improvise a lot, leading to a lot of headaches for you and Waverly

Illya has small bursts of anger, but similar to Gaby, most times, you can intervene and he doesn't get violent. or when he does, he tries to make sure it isn't in front of you. but bc you care so deeply for him, you're there for him in the aftermath. and that's how you show your love for him.

by patching him up if he gets cut, by talking him down when he's angry. and just generally trying to take care of him. and he totally does the same for you, especially if you get sent out into the field

and much to Illya's dismay, Solo doesn't refrain form making jokes about you. but if you can take them in stride, then Solo welcomes you into the team just as well :)

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #236: “I Want to Be an Avenger!”

October, 1983

Spider-Man -- An Avenger -- ?

Y’know, march of time and all that but this doesn’t seem as surprising as it once did.

Not much to say about this cover. It doesn’t have a lot to say about the issue other than ‘SPIDER-MAN INSIDE’ but boy does it say it.

But, oh, the logo changed and its snazzy! I quite like it!

So recent going-onses for the Avengers. Thor and Iron Man quit the team for personal business. Hawkeye broke his leg and is on medical forced-to-leave. Scarlet Witch and Vision were called in as reservists and Vision immediately got damaged by a crossover and has been in a robot-coma ever since. Starfox joined the team.

But in more positive news, they totally kicked the Wizard’s ass last issue and it cheered everyone up.

So the issue starts on a lazy summer day.

Scarlet Witch is on monitor duty, scanning for any ‘this looks like a job for the Avengers’ type calls. And multi-tasking by also thinking of her tubed husband.

Captain America takes his turn standing watch over the comatose synthezoid.

And for some reason, Cap leaning on the tube like that cracks me up.

Starfox spends his downtime trying to hit on Wasp.

His pickup line is so bad.

Wasp finds it charming in its misapprehension although it could also be the sexy beams Starfox emits from his brain.

And She-Hulk is taking a bath in a large barrel in the Avengers’ rec center, which they have. Maybe its the super hot bath?

She(-Hulk)’s also multi-tasking by looking up apartment listings while she soaks but finds that everything on the NY listings is either too small or too ritzy.

It be like that sometimes.

Jarvis comes into the rec center barrel bath area with iced tea for She-Hulk, trying to politely avert his eyes. But the intruder alarm goes off and she(-Hulk) tells Jarvis to hand her a towel and runs off to his flusterment.

Between Tigra and She-Hulk, I think poor Jarvis is getting overwhelmed with rad ladies on the Avengers.

The Avengers assemble in the main foyer and found that someone just barged in the front door and disabled the security tentacles with some sort of odd, artificial webbing.

Who could it be?

Who could possibly break into Avengers Mansion under the mistaken impression that its actually a cool way to impress them while asking for a job, showing that he’s learned nothing in years?

Could it be the person who expressed interest in joining in the previous issue? And who is also on the cover of this issue??

Yes.

Honestly, though, what an amazing splash page!

Also, spectacular and no-adjective.

Spider-Man knows how to make an impression.

Not a good one, certainly. But the Avengers aren’t going to forget the time he was casually chilling above the dining table.

And Pete isn’t going to forget it either. He’s going to wake up in a cold sweat years later still mortified at himself.

I also love it when the title of the issue is something someone said but since it has to be emphasized to make it clear its the title, they suddenly start yelling in the middle of a conversation.

She-Hulk has no patience for Spider-Man’s nonsense and grabs him off his web hammock to yell at him for barging in.

Spider-Man: “Well, I’m not exactly uninvited! Your buddy Thor asked me to join the club just a few months ago. Sure, I’m a little slow in replying, but I’ve had a busy season!”

And then he snarks about She-Hulk just wearing a towel because Spider-Man loves low hanging fruit.

SURELY, Spidey knows that offers usually expire, right? A few months ago is forever in comic time and Thor himself isn’t even on the Avengers right now.

I guess, in fairness, he has his reasons.

Besides his usual perpetual poverty liking the sound of a thousand bucks a week.

As he later muses to himself, Black Cat has been hospitalized because she tried to help him and he feels obligated to pay for her not-cheap medical bills. And he’s already quit grad school to spend more time earning but his freelance paychecks are nothing compared to an Avengers salary.

He’s being an incredibly presumptuous dick... but for a good cause.

And its just like Spidey that he has a good reason for being a jerk that he’d never mention leaving everyone to think he’s just a rude goofus.

What a shame.

Anyway, back at the present, Spider-Man asks where he enlists but Cap tells them that unfortunately their roster is full up. The sixth spot is being held open for Hawkeye when his leg stops being broken (and you think he was moany about being sidelined while his leg was broken, imagine him learning that he was replaced, eesh).

Cap does suggest that Spider-Man could join Starfox in the trainee program but Spidey throws a fit.

Spider-Man: “Trainee program?!? Hey, I’m Spider-Man, remember? I was sticking to walls when you guys were still looking for a clubhouse. I’m no green rookie!”

Starfox: “Green -- ? I take offense at your tone, Spider-Man!”

She-Hulk: “There’s nothing wrong with being green.”

Pffft.

As an actual rookie who is physically green, She-Hulk doesn’t care for that phrase, maybe.

She-Hulk and Starfox possibly beating up or more likely being embarrassed by Spider “will punk the entire X-Men in the not too distant future” Man is interrupted by a priority alert that goes ARROOOOOOOO

... Is it the Nixon alarm?

Why haven’t the Avengers fought Nixon’s head on a war mech yet??

Spider-Man offers to give them a hand if their priorities are being alerted but with this particular alarm, Wasp decides its best if they stick to the rules.

And then She-Hulk chases Spidey out by throwing a chair at him.

Spider-Man: Well, that was certainly a wash-out! Maybe I shouldn’t have come on as such a wise guy... Maybe I should have come to the door all humble and contrite. Nah, they wouldn’t have believed it was me!

.... Hah.

But he sees the third-floor of Avenger’s mansion opening up to launch the Quinjet and fount of good decision making that he is, he decides to jump onto the Quinjet as it launches.

Spider-Man: Whew! This baby is really starting to pick up speed! I feel like I’m in a wind tunnel. My sticky fingers can hold onto just about anything under normal circumstances... boy, I wish these were normal circumstances! I wonder if this was such a good idea.

No, Pete, it wasn’t.

But your inner monologues do add a bit more joy to this issue so I forgive you.

Inside the Quinjet, She-Hulk notes that the controls handled a bit sluggish right after take-off but eh whatever the problem disappeared after they went supersonic.

Huh. I wonder if Pete is ok.

Anyway, Captain America, She-Hulk, and Starfox are headed towards Project Pegasus.

Since it hasn’t come up in Avengers yet, Project Pegasus is a government research facility that seeks out new types and sources of energy. And Cap helped organize their security force back in Marvel Two-in-One #42.

The priority alert wasn’t the highest priority. Just a code-five, indicating a low-grade emergency. But it didn’t come with any details so Cap is vexed.

Three Avengers should be enough for a code-five but problems at Project Pegasus tend to balloon into worse problems.

You wouldn’t think a research facility would attract so much negative attention but as Cap points out, there’s a lot of people who have a vested interested in making sure energy stays scarce, expensive, and presumably non-renewable.

And considering that the oil companies like Roxxon are EVEN MORE BLATANTLY EVIL in the Marvel U, yeah, uh, bad shit is going to occur.

Also, Project Pegasus doubles as a place to jail supervillains so their powers can be studied.

So, yeah, Pegasus having a priority alert probably means a headache.

So these three Avengers are going in but Wasp and Scarlet Witch are on stand-by just in case.

The visit to the super secure research station goes off to a bad start when guards rush the Quinjet when it lands because a foreign object was detected on the undercarriage.

Of course it’s Spider-Man.

But before he can be arrested for breaking into a secure facility, his spider-sense buzzed.

It’d be a bit confusing if it wasn’t buzzing before though. He has a bunch of rattled guards pointing guns at him right after some unexplained emergency has happened.

That doesn’t set off the Peter Tingle at all??

Anyway, since the buzz is pretty intense, he figures that its warning him of something “a lot more dangerous than the lecture Cap’s going to give me!”

Hah!

He doesn’t manage to warn anyone before a tremor knocks (almost) everyone off their feet with a THROOM

Spider-Man is still standing because he loves Elton John forewarned is forewarned and he can stick to things. And to his surprise, Cap manages to stay on his feet.

Cap: “It’s just a matter of knowing how to react and how to brace yourself, Spider-Man.”

Hah!

That’s So Cap.

Spider-Man asks if he realio trulio can’t give Cap a hand with this situation. Y’know, since his spider-sense probably will come in handy. Cap isn’t sure because of the question of security but Spider-Man has an idea there.

See, he’s been here before!

In Marvel Team-Up Annual #5 he helped save the dang place! They can ask chief of security Wendell Vaughn (who is also known as Quasar but probably not to all the people in this scene?).

Unfortunately, Vaughn quit a couple months back. Oops.

But since Cap vouches for him the guard driving them to the lower levels is like ‘eh whatever.’

The power of a Cap vouch is not to be underestimate and never to be used for evil.

They’re headed to the thermal research dome because its the last known location of new security chief O’Brien. And where he sent the alert from. AND where the recent quake came from.

That’s good multitasking.

They reach the blast doors sealing off the entire level.

Because yes, not only did O’Brien send an alert, he also sealed off the entire level and now something’s jammed the lock.

They have no idea what could be locked behind there but they do have a Spider-Man and Starfox asks him if he’s getting a bad feeling about anything.

Spider-Man isn’t getting any bad vibes, deeming it safe to go inside.

Y’know, this is an amazing way to use Spider-Sense that they could do more with. I always love it when Spidey basically exploits the sense for things other than combat dodging.

Like when trying to figure out how to turn off a device he didn’t understand in Avengers EMH, he just went around almost yanking wires until he found one that didn’t set off the ‘OH MY GOD YOU’LL DEFINITELY EXPLODE IF YOU DO THAT’ buzz.

Anyway, it being probably safe, Cap tells She-Hulk and Starfox to open the door.

Which they do, with gusto.

And a GRU-U-UNNG

Inside the ruins of the thermal research dome, a bunch of semi-conscious technicians lie about in heaps.

Some Project Pegasus security personnel fan out to do administer first aid while the Avengers look for O’Brien.

Makes sense. The nameless extras help the nameless extras so we don’t go ‘hey are the Avengers dicks for only talking to people with names?’

O’Brien is pinned under an arc of steaming rock which Cap starts chipping in half with his shield while She-Hulk, Spider-Man, and Starfox - all people who could lift that rock - just stand and watch.

Or heck, maybe its not supposed to be a random rock arc. Maybe its attached to the floor. Still though, She-Hulk, Spider-Man, and Starfox could probably break it more easily than Cap does.

Teamwork makes the dream work, guys and She-Hulk.

Spider-Man recognizes O’Brien’s green and also green Not-Iron Man armor from newspapers and realizes that he’s the Guardsman.

That just makes O’Brien sad.

Guardsman: “Aye, I am... or I was. The state this armor’s in, no one’ll ever be callin’ himself the Guardsman again! As of now, I’m just plain Michael O’Brien.”

The Michael Formerly Known as Guardsman starts to Explain It All.

He had come down to the thermal dome to watch the thermal dome researchers sink a new magma tap.

But molten rock came shooting up from the tap hole, which is a thing that’s definitely not supposed to happen.

Oh, and some molten men (but not Molten Man) climbed out of the hole and started trashing the joint.

Plain Michael O’Brien realized pretty quickly that he was the only one who could stand up to these hot men so he signaled for help, hit the evacuation alarm, and sealed off the level from the rest of the project so the problem was contained.

And then he got mobbed by the hot men and got his ass kicked. Turns out that his armor was pretty useless against lava men.

Oh, yeah, Cap recognizes them as lava men from his description.

Spider-Man: “Lava men? You have to be kidding, Cap! Lava men? I don’t believe in lava men!”

Cap: “Belay that, mister! I’ve been up against lava men -- and they’re nothing to joke about! You’d better thank your stars that they left -- !”

You might also remember that Cap has been up against lava men allllllll the way back in Avengers #5. Technically the first adventure he had with the Avengers after officially joining them.

It was also the issue where Thor stoically sank into lava without changing his expression from his default vaguely annoyed one.

Anyway, O’Brien tells the Avengers that the lava men battered their way into the maintenance section since they couldn’t escape to the rest of the facility.

It’s a real good news bad news situation because there’s no one for them to hurt in there and also its a straight shot into the nuclear research dome.

And we don’t want any kind of meltdown there.

Cap decides that this looks like a job for AVENGERS to ASSEMBLE towards. And more than the three plus special guest star they already have.

MEANWHILE, over in New Orleans at an important meeting that definitely would be bad to interrupt, Monica Rambeau (secretly the Avenger known as Captain Marvel but not the dead guy version, true believers) is applying for a small business loan.

And then she gets a bzzt on her radio watch for an Avengers emergency.

Oh no, what of her small business loan!

And also: what small business is she starting? I think I heard at one point that she ran a fishing business with her father?

But what of her small business loan!

Well, Monica agrees with her bank guy Mr. Hillbee that its an alarm watch and that its reminding her of another pressing engagement so hey is there a lot more that they have to do here?

Luckily, all that’s left is for her to sign the documents.

Phew, I’m very used to superhero stuff interrupting a superhero’s civilian life and then them angsting about it. It’s actually a relief that Monica was able to finish up at the bank before dashing off to a phone booth to take a radio watch call with Scarlet Witch.

Wanda tells Monica that they just received a call from Cap(tain America) telling them to get to Project Pegasus. Wanda tells Monica that they’re in transit now and asks if she can join them.

And then the line goes dead before Wanda can give coordinates.

Because Monica just followed the radio signal back to the Quinjet.

She apologizes that it took her so long (!!) because she had to stop at home first to pick up her costume.

Wanda marvels captainly “And I thought my brother, Pietro, was fast!”

Ha ha amazing.

I love Captain Monica Marvel’s ridiculous powerset.

She’s even talking right into their radio so she can communicate from outside the Quinjet.

Wasp, Scarlet Witch, and Captain Marvel arrive at Project Pegasus where they’re briefed of the lava men situation by some of the security staff.

Captain Marvel nyooms ahead lightspeed dash style while Wasp and Scarlet Witch lag behind by taking a high-speed railcar.

Dang, Project Pegasus is big.

I just flipped ahead pages to see how long it takes Captain Marvel to join Cap(tain America)’s group and its a bit.

I guess maybe there’s some overlapped time going on though.

Meanwhile, two technicians in research dome D-2 (called the Compound for some dang reason) ignore all the various alarms and such that have been happening because they’re super into their project. And are possibly mad scientists.

They have the intensity.

But they’re working on... Dr. Croit’s stabilizer? And apparently its vibratory pitch was changed by the tremor that happened? Unbeknowst to them, Captain Marvel just nyoomed by outside and the proximity of her energy form activates the device and the silhouette of some guy leaps out proclaiming FREE!!

Back at the Avengers side of the plot, Cap(tain America)’s group has encountered some lava men.

Spider-Man: “Hey, Cap... I take it all back! I do believe in lava men! I really do!”

Hah.

The lava men are between the Avengers and the nuclear dome so Cap starts thinking of ways to flank them so they can keep them away from it.

She-Hulk starts trying to plow a hole through their forces and... uh.... ok. Cap has Starfox just fly around and annoy the lava men because they’ve never seen a flying man before and its just freaking them out.

Really.

Cap asks Spider-Man to use his webbing to throw up some barriers in the lava men’s path.

Spider-Man: “Heck, I can do better than that, Cappy! Just a couple spritzes of webbing, and these little hotheads won’t be going anywhere for hours!”

Cap: “No, you young fool! Don’t you see what you’ve done!”

Throwing web on the lava men makes them panic because it seems like there’s a lot of stuff that they’re not familiar with and all of it alarms them. When they’re alarmed, their body temperature raises and can get up thousands of degrees.

So they just melt loose of the webbing and now they’ve learned not to be afraid of the webbing at all and they can’t use it to corral them.

Spider-Man: “Would it help if I said I’m sorry?”

Cap: “It would help if you’d follow orders! The Avengers is a team! If you want to be part of the team, act like it! Otherwise, stay out of our way!”

Yeahhhhh. I mean, most of the time. You have your fair share of idiots doing their own thing in the Avengers because all of these guys have egos you wouldn’t believe. But generally they can agree to work as a team.

And Spider-Man, of this era, isn’t much of a team player. Not like Wolverine or Batman ‘i work best alone, bub’ type of not a team player where they’re lying about not being good at teamwork because they like being surly and dour because they think it makes them more interesting. But Spider-Man mostly works alone and is used to just doing whatever he thinks the best idea is. And he has the proportionate speed and reflexes of a spider so he can do whatever he thinks the best idea is way before you can tell him its a bad idea.

That’s why Spider-Man makes so many bad decisions, because he can make them faster than good sense can catch up [citation needed].

Anyway, as he is NOW, he’s not a good fit for the Avengers.

Then again, neither was Hawkeye and they let him join. Makes ya think.

Back over at surprise man out of a box lab, the surprise man was Blackout.

He looks like he’d be an electricity themed villain but apparently his element is darkness. Annd he debuted in Nova annnd this is his second appearance?

At the end of his debut story Nova #19, Blackout was apparently sucked into the Darkforce dimension, a fate that Dr. Croit’s stabilizer had been invented to prevent.

So I guesss.... the stabilizer’s settings were altered by an earthquake and then it was powered by ambient energy from Captain Marvel zipping past and it managed to stabilize Blackout, yanking him free of the Darkforce dimension?

I guess??

As far as villain returns go, its not the most ridiculous but it is a bit contrived.

Blackout has no idea where he is and rants about how he’ll level the place if that’s what it takes to find his way out and in a more acceptable contrivance, he happens to be passing Moonstone’s cell when he says this out loud to nobody in particular and she likes the cut of his jib.

Moonstone: “Sounds like you’re a man after my own heart!”

Moonstone tells Blackout that she’s been locked up here so Project Pegasus could study her powers and that they want to use her the way they would have used Blackout but hey what if they join forces and get some comeuppance.

Blackout: I don’t know if I should trust her... But something about her voice is so reassuring.

Yeah, that’s what we call a red flag, you dingus.

Are we back to the days where some dudes will just villain because a lady bats her eyes?

Anyway, the locking mechanism is too complicated to figure out so Blackout just squeezes it until it explodes.

Um. Okay.

-checks wiki-

The wiki says he’s only supposed to have normal human strength but Blackout himself claims that his body is a living generator of black star energies.

Which apparently means he can squeeze an electronic lock to death. I dunno.

Freed from her cell, Moonstone leads Blackout to what they can do next.

Meanwhile, the Avengers are still struggling with the lava men two levels below. And the fracas has reached the corridor to the nuclear dome. Its now or never but the numbers are too overwhelming even for She-Hulk.

Spider-Man manages to leap above the fray and get forgotten in the confusion but doesn’t find that he can do much. He tries webbing the door to the nuclear dome shut but the lava men don’t even bother opening it when they can melt through.

Hmmmmm not a good showing for a guest starring so far...

When the lava men succeed in melting through the door, a blinding light shines through and the lava men kneel down and start bowing to it.

Ohhhhhh, I get it! They’re not trying to cause a meltdown! They just want to worship nuclear light!

... No? I don’t got it? Okay.

The bright light is actually Captain Marvel who took a shortcut to the nuclear dome to reach the Avengers.

And the lava men are really enamored with her, proclaiming her the lady of light foretold in legends.

Captain Marvel just kinda rolls with this and asks them whats the deal with all the rampaging and destroying.

Lava man: “We did but strike back, radiant one! Our village, deep beneath the Earth, knew peace -- until the surface men bored into our midst with their machines. We could not allow this attack to go unanswered. We only used our powers to stop the invasion!”

Wait, isn’t this the plot of the Jetsons movie?

Cap(tain America) smoothly slides in, diplomatically, to announce that then the surface people beg forgiveness and that this has all been an unfortunate misunderstanding that he pledges shall be put right.

And like how Cap’s clout got Spider-Man into this story, Cap borrows Captain Marvel’s clout to back up his diplomacy roll, saying “The Lady-of-Light will tell you that I speak the truth!”

It’s a good thing that Monica wouldn’t go mad with power.

Also, Scarlet Witch and Wasp show up, while Spider-Man snarks that they “missed the end of the movie.”

But since we can’t have pat resolutions given the subplot that was happening while the Avengers were distracted elsewhere, in the Compound, it turns out that Blackout and Moonstone have freed Electro and Rhino. And Moonstone has a Big Evil Plan.

Blackout: “Pay them back? Yes... yes, we must. But how?”

Moonstone: “In the best way possible! We’re going to bring this place to its knees -- by seizing the nuclear research dome!”

But that’s where the Avengers are! Silly villains, you’ve double booked!

Also, I wonder if the universe cosmically influenced Moonstone to get two Spider-villains involved on the one day that Spider-Man was tagging along.

I also wonder what Moonstone is thinking. She’s the ‘know when to fold ‘em’ villain.

Hmmm... Putting Electro and Blackout side by side makes Blackout look like Electro’s grumpy younger brother.

All kinds of good decisions have been made!

Follow @essential-avengers for more thoughts on villain couture. Also like and reblog so I can feel like I did a good job.

#avengers #lava men #Spider Man #Captain America #She Hulk #Starfox #the Wasp #Scarlet Witch #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Seven

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

August 24th, 2000

Remy gripped one of his arms with the other as he stood at the threshold of his new dorm room in college as his mother whined and wailed and generally put on a display of the overly-attached, they-grow-up-so-fast mother. He stood there with an awkward half-smile on, waiting for her to finish her spiel as she crushed him in a hug, and then made her excuses to leave.

His dad was a lot less emotional, giving him a simple smile and a, “Make us proud, son,” before he was gone.

“Your parents are quite the pair,” his new roommate said from inside the dorm.

“Tell me about it,” Remy grumbled, closing the door. “I’m so glad I get to be away from them for a while.”

November 1st, 2000

Remy woke up with a killer headache as someone opened the blinds. “Ugh, d’you have to do that?!” he griped, not opening his eyes and turning away from the window.

A voice, that decidedly did not sound like his roommate, laughed. “Oh, yeah, the hangover has set in. Do you need some ibuprofen?”

Remy’s eyes shot open, and he turned to face Emile, who was still standing in front of the window. He squinted and grimaced. “Ugh. Please?”

Emile silently passed Remy a pill bottle and some water. Remy grunted his thanks after he swallowed. “Ugh. What happened last night?”

“You got pretty drunk is what happened,” Emile said. “You could barely stand by the end of the night.”

Remy groaned and fell back onto the bed. Honestly, sleeping more sounded pretty good right about now.

“Hey, no, we gotta get breakfast, Rem,” Emile laughed. “I know you only have afternoon classes, but you need to eat.”

“Mmph. Says who?” Remy asked.

“Says the shrink-in-training who knows a balanced diet is a key factor to maintaining good mental health,” Emile responded matter-of-factly. “Come on, up. I doubt you’ll be the only one arriving for breakfast in what you slept in last night.”

Remy got off the bed, swaying ever-so-slightly. “Ugh, hangovers are nasty,” he grumbled.

And, of course, to make things worse, Emile looked immaculate; the only thing that could be considered “out of place” was his hair, and that wasn’t out of place so much, because his curly mop could never be tamed. Remy felt like a mess, probably looked like a mess, and Emile looked ready to go to work wherever he might end up. “I didn’t say anything embarrassing, did I?” Remy asked.

“Embarrassing by your standards, or mine?” Emile asked, letting Remy outside the dorm room.

“Mine,” Remy said, wincing as the sounds of the second floor dorms filled his ears.

“Well, you talked about an old stuffed animal you used to have named Bones,” Emile said with a shrug.

“Oh, I almost forgot about Bones,” Remy said. It wasn’t quite true, but he had almost put the hurt of his mind, at the very least. “Anything else?”

Emile hummed. “Not that I can think of?”

“No talk about crushes or anything?” Remy asked.

Emile laughed. “No, not that I can think of.”

“Okay, good,” Remy sighed. “I had a crazy dream last night where I said I would date you, and I wasn’t sure if I had actually just been drunk.”

“No,” Emile said, shaking his head. He stared forward as they waited for the elevator. “Just a dream, Remy, nothing to worry about. Unless, of course, you believe that means you secretly do have a crush on me.”

Remy laughed. “Oh, as if! You’re so not my type,” he lied. He wasn’t even aware he had a type before today, but clearly, with George in high school and now Emile, he was into the nerds and the geeks. Emile wasn’t full-blown crush, not yet, but he was certainly up there on Remy’s potentials. And when a geek trumped the members of the football team or the swim team, you knew you had a problem.

Emile laughed a little. “Are you sure? Brainiacs are the future!”

“You’re cute, Emile, don’t get me wrong,” Remy said, as the elevator doors opened and the two walked in to find two other people already waiting. “Just not my type. Personality-wise.”

“So what is your type?” Emile asked, grinning. “I might be able to set you up.”

“Ah, no thanks,” Remy said. “Friends are enough for me right now.”

“And later?” Emile asked. “If you decide you want to look for someone?”

Remy blew out a breath. “I’ll go up to whoever I like and say, ‘Hey, I’m going thousands of dollars into debt to get this one paper certificate that won’t guarantee me a job but I was told to get anyway. Want to suffer together?’”

Emile laughed as they left the elevator. “Well, that’s an original pickup line, don’t get me wrong,” he said. “But seriously, what do you plan on doing after this semester?”

“What do you mean?” Remy asked.

“Well, midterms are like...next week, Remy,” Emile pointed out.

“Wait, what.”

“Yeah, they’re next week,” Emile repeated, as ice entered Remy’s bloodstream. “Did you forget?”

“Yeah,” Remy said, voice pitched an octave and a half too high. “Oh man, like, I’ve been saving all my cash from the job to pay for the next semester, but I don’t know if it’s going to be enough. I might have to take out more loans than I thought. Oh man. Oh no.”

Emile put a hand on Remy’s arm. “Hey, deep breaths, Rem. Don’t want to go into another panic attack.”

Remy made a pained noise that roughly translated to too late. He tried to breathe, but his chest felt far too tight. He couldn’t, like, at all.

Emile led him to the cafeteria, by which time Remy’s brain had finally sputtered to life again. “I can’t do this,” he mumbled. “I can’t...I can’t...I can’t do this.”

“Hey, Rem, you’ll do fine,” Emile said. “You said yourself you know everything in your classes!”

“No. No, I mean I can’t do this,” Remy said, waving his hands around the cafeteria. “I can’t do college. Not for three and a half more years. Emile, it’s going to kill me. I’m going to die if I keep trying to go to school. I’m gonna grow bored, or I’m gonna grow even worse mental health-wise than however shaky that is right now. I can’t do that. I can’t stand it here. College...can and will kill me.”

Emile visibly swallowed as they both went over to the waffle maker and Remy went first, pouring the batter into the waffler and closing it tight. “Then you really shouldn’t be going to college, Remy. If it’s hurting you, then definitely do not keep coming here.”

Remy sighed. He knew Emile had a point. He knew that. But still... “My parents—”

“—Under no circumstances will be your excuse to stay in a place that is literally going to kill you,” Emile said sternly. “If this is going to drive you to jump off a building, or hang yourself, or do something stupid so you go out as a martyr, then don’t keep doing it.”

Remy stared at Emile in shock and confusion until the waffler dinged. He grabbed the waffle, grabbed whipped cream, and sprinkles, and started making his signature mess of a breakfast. “This is going to come across as really insensitive,” he warned Emile. “But...you genuinely care. Why?”

Emile poured waffle batter in the waffler silently before sighing. “I’ve lost too many friends to suicide already.”

“Friends? As in, plural?” Remy asked.

“Yes, Remy. Friends as in plural. High school was not a kind place. Nor was middle school, for that matter, but high school was the final straw for both of them,” Emile said. “Almost lost a third, too. Walked in on her popping pills like they were after-dinner mints.”

“I—” Remy didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry.”

“At least I caught the final one in time,” Emile said with a bitter smile. “She didn’t speak to me for a long while after that. Emailed me right before I went off to college, thanking me. She had finally found medication that actually worked for her. Didn’t get a chance to see her before I left, but we’ve been talking about seeing each other over winter break.”

“I hope you get that chance,” Remy said.

“Me too,” Emile sighed. “But Remy, please. If college will kill you, drop out of college. Your parents do not take priority over your mental health. What’s keeping you from dropping out, other than your parents opinions?”

“Finding a place to stay,” Remy said.

“I’ll help you find a roommate who can pay rent, I know a few people around campus who are desperate to live nearby but not in the dorms. What else?”

“Money for food, transportation,” Remy said.

“If you’re not paying for college you should have enough money so that you can buy the food to get you through, even if you no longer have a meal plan. We can get you a bike, or figure out the bus routes needed for you to get to Starbucks to work,” Emile said. “And if necessary there’s other options around the city that I know are hiring.”

Remy had never seen someone angrily pour syrup on a waffle before, but watching Emile do just that was an experience. “Emile...why would you do this for me? Like, I get the whole wanting me to drop out so I get to be your friend still and I don’t wind up dead thing, but that doesn’t mean you have to help me figure everything out.”

“I’m your friend, Remy. Of course I’m going to help you,” Emile said. “That’s what friends do. They help each other.”

“But...but this feels like going above and beyond,” Remy said, wincing as someone shouted something unintelligible across the cafeteria. “Like, most friends support their other friends’ decisions, but you’re actually mapping out how I would live if I were to genuinely drop out.”

“Friends can and should help you prepare for the future if you need help, or even just want help. If they’re able to offer help, they should, in my opinion,” Emile said.

They moved further into the cafeteria to eat, and Remy was thankful that Emile chose one of the darker parts of the cafeteria, away from the windows and the sunroof. “What’s going above and beyond, then?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think there is an ‘above and beyond’ with friendships, but if you need a threshold, how about...moving in with you and getting a part-time job so you can afford the rent and food?”

“That’s definitely above and beyond,” Remy said.

Emile turned thoughtful, poking at his food. “Is it, though, actually?”

“What do you mean?” Remy asked, frowning and taking a bite of waffle.

“I mean, that’s something I could definitely do. It sounds like a good idea, actually,” Emile said.

Remy choked on his waffle piece, before coughing violently and swallowing the rock that had returned to his mouth. “You serious? I thought...I thought you would want to like...see your friends over the holidays, and your folks. You seem like you’d be close to your folks.”

“Well, I can still see them over the holidays,” Emile reasoned. “But this just means I wouldn’t be moving back home over the summer and then moving again when it comes to sophomore year. I can visit my parents without having to live in their house. We could get a two-bedroom apartment, split the rent and food over the summer, and I could handle the rent during the school year while you worry about food. It could work.”

“Emile,” Remy said. “You’re literally saying you would move in with me. For no other reason than I can’t afford my own place on part-time minimum wage.”

“That’s not the only reason,” Emile said. “It would help me save on room and board, too. Less student loans for me.”

Remy laughed incredulously. “So, is this it? Is this a thing that we’re doing? You’re going to move in with me? I thought it’d be one of your friends.”

“Well, most of my friends would go home in the summer, when you need the most help,” Emile reasoned. “And besides, do you honestly think you could get along with any of my friends long enough to actually share living space with them? I know that your own roommate bugs you a whole lot, because you spend so much time in my room, where you don’t have to deal with anyone but me. And if we can stand each other most days when we don’t have classes and you don’t have to go to bed, yet, I think we can handle living in a place at a point in time where you’re going to work and I’m going to school and going to work. I’ll have to talk to my parents about it, of course, but they aren’t going to say no. They just need to know why my tuition is less than it used to be.”

“So...that’s a yes?” Remy asked.

“Yes,” Emile said with a grin. “You drop out of college, and we move in together.”

Remy whistled under his breath. “Okay, then,” he breathed.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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simsroyallegacy · 4 years ago

Photo

Harwood Manor - Private Family Wing

Brooke: *yawning* Dear Lord. Regina has been running me ragged tonight. She does realize I’m only seventeen; I do still have school!

Brooke: *sighing* The things I do to ensure my future...

*muffled thump and groaning*

Brooke: What the-

Charles: *between kisses* You look absolutely wonderful tonight my Lady...

Lady ?: *laughing* Oh Charles, what will Alivia say? Aren’t you two engaged now?

Charles: An unwilling betrothal at best. Liv and I understand that we’re only staying together to appease her father...

Lady ?: Perhaps we should stop here; I feel this is a terrible thing to do in public. Maybe we can meet again soon?

Charles: *thinking* I doubt it.

Charles: Of course, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

Brooke: *thinking* Is this guy for real?

Brooke: *coughs politely*

Lady ?: *jumping back* Oh no!

Charles: Damn, and now she’s run away.

Brooke: *laughs*

Charles: How much of that did you actually see?

Brooke: See? Me? I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about...

Charles: Let’s cut the crap here Lady...?

Brooke: Brooke. No title though; I work for Lady Harwood. Seriously though, I’m not going to tell Mr...?

Charles: Prince Charles. And you better not; I can make your life miserable if you do.

Brooke: Excuse you?

Charles: I’m serious. If you tell anyone I’ll make sure you’re fired and that you’ll never get another job with the Harwoods again!

Brooke: Look buddy, I already said I wasn’t going to say anything! What you do when you’re cheating is your own business not mine!

Charles: I’m just making sure you understand what will happen if you do decide to spread any rumors. Do you really expect me to trust some random, no-name, servant girl I’ve just met?

Brooke: Servant girl?! Do I look like I’m wearing a staff uniform to you?

Charles: You’re certainly not wearing the Crown Jewels.

Brooke: I don’t think it’s wise for you to be insulting someone who just witnessed your affair...

Charles: I’m just trying to save my father a political headache. Nothing’s really going to happen to me if you do run your mouth; what could you possibly do to me?

Brooke: Do you really want to find out?

Charles: ...

Brooke: Have a nice evening, Your Highness.

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bonesaldente · 4 years ago

Text

Caliginous I Darth Maul x reader

Chapter 12: The Desert

read this on ao3

last chapter

chapter overview

words: 3200 +

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“I know what you’re thinking, but my master was highly pleased with our work on Cato Neimoidia. And now that Gunray is Viceroy, we can finish one more job for them, to ensure their future cooperation.”

“But two Jedi, not to mention her own guards? It just seems like an awfully risky job.”

“They won’t be expecting me. I’ll catch them off-guard.”

“Wait a minute.” You straighten your posture that was previously slouched over, leaning on the pilot seat’s backrest. “What do you mean ‘expecting you’? We’re gonna take them on together, are we not?”

Maul heaves a sigh and turns to you.

“You said it yourself: Force users don’t fight fair - It would be dangerous for you.”

Your jaw drops.

“So you’re telling me I should stay behind and watch as you face them? Like some kind of helpless damsel?”

“I know you’re far from helpless. But they have an unfair advantage.” He pauses. “Please.”

You didn’t expect him to sound so pleading, so sincere, and the anger in you dies down, leaving room for rationality: He isn’t entirely wrong, and the fact that he obviously worries about you induces a fuzzy feeling in you.

Your scowl turns into a grimace. “I have one condition.”

He looks at you expectantly.

“You have to keep helping me practice with the lightsaber. I want to be able to at least defend myself. Just in case.”

His face relaxes again, obviously not minding the request one bit.

“We’ll have time on Tatooine for that.”

Tatooine. You’ve been on the outer rim planet only once, but one time is one time too many if you are asked.

Wearing heavy equipment makes one try to stray far from desert planets. The kriffing sand makes you slow, gets into your boots and blasters, makes your knives go dull, and it is still found inside your pockets for weeks after.

Needless to say, you are not thrilled to be flying to Tatooine.

“How much time do we have?” You hope it’s not too much. The sooner you get off that rock again, the better.

“A day or two, most likely. Depending on how quickly we’ll be able to locate them.”

You exhale audibly, praying you’ll make quick work of the two Jedi.

“So we- You kill the Jedi. Then what?”

You are slightly displeased still, having been left out of the planning, getting all information on a ‘need to know’ basis.

“We take the Queen of Naboo and bring her to Theed. The Trade Federation wants her to sign a treaty there.”

“Wonderful. Politics,” you mumble, then proceed to rub your temples. “Let me know when we arrive, I’m going to lay down for a while.” The prodding headache from the intrusion to your mind still hasn’t faded and serves as a constant reminder that your thoughts and memories don’t belong to you alone anymore. Weird; Before meeting Darth Sidious, you never really felt that way - like your thoughts would be used against you. Not even in the beginning, before you … got closer to Maul. But now, every idea, every little daydream (especially the ones surrounding a certain zabrak and his athletic body) is accompanied with a surge of embarrassment when you picture the dark lord of the sith going through your mind again.

You can only hope he won’t deem it necessary all too soon, if at all.

Maul shoots you a slightly concerned look.

“I wish he hadn’t invaded your mind like that.” He admits after a pause.

“So do I… ” Is all you say in response, scrunching up your nose. “So do I.”

You have hardly even stepped out of the ship and you already want to turn around and go back.

The suns are searing hot and the day hasn‘t even set completely yet, there is not even the tiniest breeze and nothing but desert safe for what looks to be a settlement in the distance, a mere dot on the horizon. You are still standing on the ramp and already feel sand settling in the wrinkles of your layered clothing.

“I despise this,” you mumble, “so, so much.”

Your companion swooshes past you, two probes levitating ominously behind him. He presses a few buttons on his wrist panel and they soar off into the distance.

“With the help of those we should be able to locate them soon. Then we can leave this place.“

“Marvellous. I think I‘ll just stay on the ship for as long as it‘s still cool inside.“

He shoots you a glance. ”You know, if you want to practice, this is as cool as it‘s going to get today.”

You groan inwardly, knowing that he is right, but also not feeling like stepping out into the desert at all.

”Probably,” you agree unwillingly. ”Give me a second and I’ll be ready.”

You disappear into the ship, gathering your lightsaber (you’ve taken to referring to it as ”yours” in your thoughts, despite the fact that it’s stolen from somebody who, too, stole it). In wise anticipation you take off your jacket, already knowing you‘re going to get a heat stroke if you wear anything over your tanktop. It’s bad enough that you don’t own any shorts, only heavy utility pants that - while much more practical and protective - get very, very hot.

It’s undeniable that your lightsaber combat skills have improved considerably. You are starting to feel confident enough to incorporate some of the moves you learned with a sword in your fighting style, and you now have an accurate enough sense of the lightsaber to know how you can move and jump without letting the blade touch you. This changes up your technique vastly, going from awkward, shaky strikes to much more controlled, agile movements. Are you any match for Maul? No. Will you ever be? Probably not (and you can’t deny the fact that you feel frustrated that after training your whole life, there is a level you will never get to).

But will you be able to give any assailant hell?

You are certain of it.

It doesn’t take long, however, for you to become agitated with the sand that keeps on giving in under your steps, slows you down and piles up inside your boots, as well as the heat that is making beads of sweat appear on your forehead.

Maul is executing a series of strikes that, despite you blocking them, are forceful enough for you to have to take a few steps back - and this is where the uneven ground becomes a real problem: Unaware of the deepening behind you, you yelp and stumble backwards, thankfully having the sense to deactivate your lightsaber before you fall once and for all.

As soon as your body lands in the sand, it is everywhere. In your eyes, between your toes, in your hair, under your shirt. You lie still for a moment, trying to calm the frustration, but to no avail. While pushing yourself off the ground with little grace, you are angrily shaking the hem of your top in an attempt to feel less restricted, less hot, and most of all less sandy. You kick at the sand, once, twice, as if every grain has personally done you wrong. A curse in your native language escapes your lips while you are quickly undoing your braid, trying to shake at least some of the forsaken substance out, but knowing well that you are still going to find it after multiple showers.

“I hate this!”

You kick your boots off and toss them somewhere close to the ramp. There is this pressing desire to destroy something pulsing through your veins - you need to take your frustration out on something.

“Come at me again.” Maul instructs you calmly upon witnessing your aggravation.

Now everything is boiling up, not only your hatred for desert planets but also your frustration at having to work under a ‘master’ again - feeling like somebody is always trying to control you. You don’t mind working with Maul, at all, but you do mind the fact that this Sidious is basically holding your life in his hands like a little bird; alive only because he chooses to let you live, still always ready to be crushed between his fingers. If you wanted to, you’re sure Maul would let you leave, but Sidious wouldn’t.

You allow yourself to let out your anger through jumps and hits and twirls, and the satisfying sound of sabers clashing is like music to your ears. The handle starts to feel like it’s attached to your body, an extension of your arm, the way it fits snugly in your hand and moves to your will. All inhibition out of fear of hurting yourself with the weapon fades away, and with it your ability to pace yourself - another jump, another backhand slash, your lightsabers colliding, and your energy is drained. It doesn’t take Maul much more effort to push you away.

You retract the blade in defeat, your legs wobbly with exhaustion, both physically and mentally.

Collapsing onto your knees, you exhale shakily.

“You have improved,” he remarks, stretching out his hand to help you back to your feet. “You learn fast.”

Still trying to catch your breath, you only manage to nod in appreciation of his praise. How is he so unaffected by both the heat and the physical exertion, while you are reaching the limits of your body?

A grain of sand that has snuck into your eye causes you to start blinking rapidly, rubbing your eye in an attempt to get it out. But your hands, too, are covered in sand.

“I really need a shower now.”

The water does wonders in terms of instant anger and stress relief. It’s tempting to just stay in the refresher, where the temperature is controlled and where not everything is immediately covered in a layer of dust and sand.

But you can’t stay forever, so with a heavy sigh and in fresh, clean clothes, you open the door and reenter the ready room, surprised to find that the ramp is closed.

“Trying to keep the heat out.”

Maul’s voice from your left startles you. He is standing in the doorway that leads to the small storage space, still in the black robes he wore outside and looking like he himself is coated in a thin layer of dust.

“Oh. That’s good, that’s …” really considerate, when you think about it: He didn’t seem to mind the heat, and seeing as he was born on Dathomir, that makes sense too - but he knows you mind the temperatures. You gulp. “... nice,” you finish your sentence.

You notice water dripping from the ends of your hair, creating a damp spot on your shirt.

“Blast,” you mumble, rushing to your bag to find something to tie your hair up with.

You don’t even notice Maul is standing behind you until you lower your arms again, having thrown your hair in a lazy updo. Looking up over your shoulder, you give him a questioning look after seeing his concentrated gaze.

He catches a strand of hair that you missed between his fingers, holding it up to look at it intently.

“Your hair,” he mumbles, slowly stroking his thumb over it to feel the texture. “It’s soft.”

You never considered that the sensation could be new for him, but looking back, his hands did always end up buried in your hair whenever the two of you… got distracted. Heat rushes to your cheeks at his obvious fascination when his fingers graze the skin on your neck, but your flusteredness quickly subsides when you realize that he is still covered in dust.

You jump away from him, pointing your finger in a mock-threatening way.

“I just got cleaned up, so don’t even think about touching me.”

He flinches for the fraction of a second, then looks at you with arms crossed and mischief glinting in his eyes.

“You never seemed to mind me touching you before.”

Oh, you bastard.

You scowl.

“Well, I do now. There’s dust and sand all over you, and I just managed to scrub it all off of me.”

“If you say so,” Maul shakes his head in amusement, then proceeds to the refresher.

With the water running again, you realize you have some free time.

“What to do, what to do…” you mumble as your eyes scan the room for a distraction.

Your gaze gets caught on an empty wooden crate that is standing in a corner innocently.

It’s been a while since you’ve done some target practice (For safety reasons you’ve decided it would be smarter not to throw knives in the confines of a moving spaceship), and that crate would make an excellent target.

Quickly you carve a small ‘X’ into the wood to replace the bull’s eye, then you place your makeshift target on a shelf to get it to a proper height.

Target practice has always been one of your favorite kinds of training. Probably, because you are good at it, and it doesn’t involve people, as opposed to sparring.

The first three throws are good and land in the center, right where you want them. For the next round, you decide to change things up and spin before throwing, giving yourself less time to aim but more momentum.

Quickly, you find yourself getting lost in the monotone practice, tunnel vision on your target the only thing that occupies your thoughts - it’s almost meditative

Time passes faster than you expect it to, and midthrow, you catch sight of Maul leaving the refresher.

Without a shirt on.

You miss the ‘X’ by a couple of inches, the blade boring itself into the very corner of the crate; the furthest you have missed it today. An annoyed sound leaves your mouth, though you can’t fully bring yourself to be frustrated with it when the reason for your miss is so well built.

You desperately try not to stare at him, though it certainly isn’t easy.

The final knife you throw hits the target dead-center again, and you mentally declare your practice session over, only now allowing yourself to look at him.

Maker, he’s attractive.

The black inkings on his crimson skin only seem to enhance the lines of muscles spanning across his torso and with the way his pants are sitting so low on his hips-

‘Don’t you dare read my mind,’ The thought is loud and insistent in your head - an attempt to protect your pride, because you would probably die of embarrassment if he knew you really found him this appealing.

To be fair, it’s been a while since you had some… alone time. You are hesitant about doing anything in the shower, because you are almost certain he’d be able to tell through your heightened emotions. But it is getting to you.

And his upper body being on display like that is not helping.

“Now that I am clean enough for you,” He takes slow, self-assured steps toward you, until he is so close that you are forced to look up to face him, his voice dropping to a rumble. “Maybe you’ll finally let me ... ”

He doesn’t finish what he is saying with words, instead meeting you halfway when you stand up on your tiptoes, lips melting together. Your hands roam over his bare torso, feeling old scars, but also raw power in the hard muscles that contract and relax under your touch.

Suddenly, he freezes.

“What’s wrong?” You breathe against his lips, sensing his abrupt unease.

“There are people nearby,” he pulls away with a frown, summoning his lightsaber and a coat with the force. “Stay here, I’ll go check the area and keep them away.”

You snatch a dagger from under your bed and place it on your belt, just in case someone gets close to the ship, while he opens the ramp and rushes off to the right, where you assume he can sense lifeforms closing in. You follow him down the ramp and stay just a few feet away from the ship, watching him cross a dune and disappear.

It is quiet for a few minutes, whoever it was Maul felt must be far away enough to be out of your earshot.

A sudden clang from the front of the ship alarms you and you whip around, but see nobody. Cautiously, you crouch down and sneak around the ship, watching for an attacker, but the place where the sound originated is abandoned. Footprints in the sand trail the other way around the ship, meaning whoever is here could very well be…

behind you.

You catch the assailant’s hand just before it can wrap itself around your neck, twisting the wrist and forcefully throwing the creature to the ground, immediately recognizing the ghastly appearance of a Tusken Raider.

The sand person gets up before you can finish him and swings his spear your way, wildly, primitively. It’s easy to evade his attacks, and before the savage knows what’s happening, you’ve slit his throat.

The short lived fight leaves you slightly out of breath and on alert, your heart thumping fast in anticipation of another attack, but your gut tells you that this was the only danger lurking here.

“Ugh.”

You nudge the grotesque body with your foot, testing to feel its weight. The decision that the corpse is much too heavy for you to move without considerable effort is made fast, so you elect to leave it where it is and wait until Maul returns.

If it was really only the sand people, then you are not overly worried for his safety. They are brutal savages, yes, but they are not much of a threat for somebody like Maul (or you, for that matter).

As expected, Maul’s return is fast.

“Sand people,” he utters.

“I know,” you say, gesturing to the leg that sticks out from around the corner. “I’ve had the pleasure already.”

His eyes widen in surprise.

“I did not feel the presence of one so close. I must be more vigilant in the future.”

It is evident that he blames himself for leaving you behind with an imminent threat, so you try to ease his mind.

“It was more annoying than anything else. I have faced bigger challenges than a Tusken Raider, believe me. Now, would you do me a favor and help me get rid of the body?”

He nods absentmindedly and lifts one hand, using the force to raise the body into the air while at the same time creating a hole in the ground, where the body lands with an unceremonious thud.

‘Convenient,’ you think to yourself, remembering all the times you’ve had to drag and lift bodies that by far exceeded your own body mass.

It’s around noon right now, and the sun is beating down on you two mercilessly. You are about to go back inside the ship, when a quiet whirring catches your attention.

“The probe!”

It flies straight to Maul, where it stops and starts a series of beeps that you assume are its way of transmitting information.

“We have the location of the Jedi,” Maul declares finally with a certain gravity to his voice. “Wait here. Please.”

You sigh. “You be careful, yes?”

“I don’t need to be careful,” He lifts his chain proudly, “It’s them who should be afraid.”

“I don’t doubt that. Just… come back fast, won’t you?” You can’t mask the fact that you feel hesitant to let him go on his own - that you feel worried about his safety.

“I will.” He sounds softer now, seeing your concern for him. “Until then,” he pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead.

Then he’s gone.

____

next chapter

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Reader doesn’t like sand. It's coarse, and rough, and irritating... and it gets everywhere.

I’m a sucker for throwing knives ever since I played Assassin’s creed syndicate (can you tell?). The stealth? The coolness? superb. Mwah.

This time less of a wait, though I can’t promise the same thing for the next chapter. I’m going to try to post it in less than one week, but you know how things get :,)

As always, thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

____

@princessayveke @spaghetti-666 @noiralei @bagpipes606 @secretnerd00

#maul #darth maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #star wars x reader #sith #star wars fanfiction

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reydjarinkenobi · 4 years ago

Note

I am absolutely interested in more of the time travel fic!!! What you have so far is awesome!

Here you go!

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Time travellers from the future were just about the last thing that Obi-Wan expected to find when he decided to investigate the ancient temple.

They had been taking a break from their journey to a remote Mid-Rim planet, where the senators would be meeting with a delegation from the neutral systems to attempt to negotiate possible alliances and trade routes. Personally, he thought that having an escort of two companies, two padawans and four Jedi was a bit of overkill, but he recognised that this would probably be a prime target for the Separatists if information about it got out, and it almost certainly would.

Plus, he was fairly sure Yoda was trying to either punish them all by forcing them to endure what was sure to be a long and tedious round of diplomatic talks, or force them all to take a break with what was, on paper, a fairly easy mission, as their only job was to make sure that all the senators were safe, rather than to actually oversee any of the negotiations. Really, it was the closest thing to a rest they could get since the Senate was getting exceedingly reluctant to allow the Jedi and their troops have leave; but this assignment had the added bonus of allowing all their battalions leave, with Alderaan having generously offered space on their planet for the battalions to rest whilst their generals were otherwise occupied.

They'd touched down on what was logged as an uninhabited planet so that the senators could stretched their legs and they could use the oceans to restock their water supplies, as the fancy model of ship used as the senator transport did not have a large enough reserve space to last the whole trip.

The ExplorCorps had noted in the planet's profile that there was an ancient temple, with some old carvings throughout it and, of course, Obi-Wan had wanted to take a look. Senator Amidala had readily agreed as well as Bail, though the other senators in the delegation had seemed disinterested in the prospect of examining old Jedi architecture at best, or scared at worst.

So, Mace and Luminara stayed with the great majority of senators and Obi-Wan and Anakin took themselves and a small delegation of clones to the ruins.

They'd eventually gotten to a room filled with carvings, that had a large stone in the middle of it. Having studied the particular ancient dialect printed in runes on the walls during his youth, Obi-Wan was immediately distracted. So distracted, that he only came back to himself when Anakin let out a sharp reprimand that had Fives pausing, his fingertips bare inches from the stone in the middle of the room.

A second later, there was a flash of light and now, Obi-Wan was staring at a group of time travellers from the future, at least two of which had access to the Force; future Jedi if their lightsabers were an accurate indicator, though both of them had shields much more fragile than Obi-Wan would expect from Jedi of their ages, even if they were still padawans - though he noticed that neither of them bore a braid of any kind.

Before any of them could comment, Obi-Wan's comm buzzed.

"Master Kenobi," Mace's voice floated through it, as level as ever to anyone who didn't know him well - but Obi-Wan did, would even consider Mace one of his closest friends at this point in the war, and he could hear the slight edge in his voice, "Can you think of any reason why a light freighter just appeared out of thin air?"

The Wookie garbled out a happy, "She's here!"

Just as he spoke, the human male who had appeared closest to the stone breathed a relieve sigh. "The Falcon came with us."

The woman's - girl, really, she was clearly younger than even Anakin was - eyes widened.

"That's the Millenium Falcon," she informed them, her accent a weird mixture of Core with hints of Outer Rim at the edges. "Tell them not to attempt to enter it. It's biolocked and booby-trapped. Anyone who attempts to get in will be repelled with extreme force."

Obi-Wan blinked.

"Did you hear that?" he asked into his wrist.

"Yes… Who was that?"

Obi-Wan winced internally. This was going to be a headache.

"We will explain when we meet up with you. There is a lot to we need to discuss. Don't worry, though, they are not hostile," he looked between the group as he said the last part, meeting each of their eyes and seeing them nod slightly in agreement.

There was a pause, and Obi-Wan could hear the restrained sigh behind Mace's almost monotone, "Copy that, Master Kenobi. Master Unduli and I will be awaiting your explanation."

Obi-Wan held back a sigh as he looked up at the room around him. Bail, who had wisely ducked behind the wall when the lightsabers had been drawn, (in direct contrast to Senator Amidala, who had pulled out a blaster that had been concealed in her dress and levelled in time with the troopers who were meant to be protecting her) stepped into the doorway. Everyone else had lowered their weapons, though no one had sheathed them.

This was meant to be an easy mission.

"I suggest we all take our leave of this place," he suggested. "The temple will surely send some archivists and rune experts to investigate soon, but we do not want accidentally activate anything else in the meantime."

He nodded at the now cracked stone. "As you said, that artifact can no longer be activated now that it's runes have been destroyed. I'm afraid you may be stuck here for some time… perhaps indefinitely."

A maelstrom of fear terror worry sadness filled the Force around them before Obi-Wan physically felt shields slam into place around not only the two Jedi, but the entire group.

"Apologies," the male Jedi grimaced. "Shielding is… a new concept for us. Rey is better than me."

The girl - Rey, Obi-Wan guessed - rolled her eyes as she finally relaxed her stance, placing the butt of her staff on the ground and leaning against it. "I lost control just like you did, Finn. If anything, my slip was more of a disappointment since I've had more time to practice."

The man standing behind them shook his head and crossed his arms whilst the Wookie looked up at the city with a wordless groan. Both gestures went ignored by the Jedi.

"A whole six months more," Finn sniped back. "And weren't you just saying that I've gotten more direct teaching than you?"

Rey narrowed her eyes. "Two months is not nearly enough training to expect perfection."

Finn opened his mouth, but the other man stepped forward before he could reply, putting a hand on each of their shoulder's. "You both kriffed up. Deal with it. You're being rude… and aren't you meant to be the diplomatic ones? The general's lessons aren't going to waste are they?"

That immediately shut both of them up. Finn glanced down at the ground, whilst the indignation on Rey's face cleared to a blank mask.

She visibly checked herself as she returned her attention back to their group, nodding deeply.

"We're very sorry. We are not at our best… it has been a trying few weeks for us."

Obi-Wan's tongue stuck in his throat, still trying to make sense of that assault. The Force signatures, which had previously been dull - so subdued that they had barely been bright enough for Obi-Wan to label them as Force Sensitive. However, with the wave of emotion, there had also been another change in the Force around them, like a veil pulling away from their very beings.

Finn's signature had glowed bright; a beautiful shining light that had warmed the Force around it. Rey's, on the other hand, hit him like an ion canon, the pulsing supernova filling the room, so overwhelming that it rivalled Anakin's when he lost control.

"Wait," Anakin said. "Did you just say that you've been training for eight months?"

Obi-Wan's stomach twisted. If that was true, the two in front of them were very impressive; very impressive but very troubling.

Rey grimaced. "Yes… I know it is taking me a long time to gain control. I'm working on it… Meditation is beginning to help."

Finn grinned whilst the other man snorted. Rey pursed her lips but didn't comment.

The man between the Jedi stepped forward, smiling openly. "My name is Poe Dameron. The Wookie over there is called Chewbacca, the astromech is BB-8, and Rey and Finn just introduced themselves."

"And you're from the future," Ahsoka finished for him, and, when Obi-Wan glanced back at her, he saw that her eyes were wide.

Poe nodded. "Just over fifty years if I'm remembering my galactic history correctly."

Finn and Rey nodded in agreement.

"Right," Obi-Wan said, his mind whirling with the thoughts. "Why don't we return to our transport? We will need to contact the Jedi Council about this and we can decide what to do with you there… And I think we need to have a talk."

The three humans glanced at each other, before they nodded.

"That sounds good," Finn replied.

Everyone stayed tense as they started walking, with Obi-Wan hanging back, nearest to the group of time-travellers, who all stuck closely together.

He felt the Force shift around the group, tunnels opening up between them; mental channels that were clumsy but strong.

The mental conversation that took place was remarkably well shielded, but Obi-Wan still caught a few stray thoughts that were broadcasted with especial passion.

'We could stop it! Stop it all!' the thought floated from Poe.

'I agree - but we need to do this carefully,' Finn replied.

It was quiet for a few more minutes and then one of Rey's thoughts slipped out, 'We need to do this right. We obviously can't tell Skywalker anything. From what General Leia told me of her father, he wouldn't be able to handle it. He's too erratic.'

The few other stray thoughts that slipped out were patchy, and it was difficult to tell just who they came from.

'Organa! Definitely. The general's dad was brilliant! Is brilliant I guess because we're not letting Alderaan…'

'Amidala?'

'Kenobi should be good too.'

By the time they got back to the ships, Obi-Wan's thoughts were swirling with the implications of their conversation.

Something very bad had happened in the future. Something awful enough that there was no one to train two fully realised Force Users. One of which was so powerful that Obi-Wan was having trouble figuring out how she'd survived so long by herself.

Mace was waiting for them when they got there, his eyes widening as he saw the new group with them.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice flat.

"We do," Obi-Wan agreed looking back at the group. "There must be things you want to tell us."

Rey swallowed. "Yes. We have proof of everything on our ship. History books and records and stuff like that."

Obi-Wan glanced around, noting the way that the group had tensed. He needed to find out what was going on. Now.

"Anakin, why don't you and Ahsoka help Master Unduli and Padawan Offee oversee the senators. Mace and I can interview our… visitors and contact the Council. Hopefully, we can get his all sorted out in a timely manner."

After a second, he also inclined his head towards Bail. "Senator Organa… I think it would also be prudent that you join us… in the interest of keeping communications between the Order and the Senate open."

Immediately, Finn, Poe and Chewbacca relaxed, though Rey narrowed her eyes.

Bail and Mace both nodded at Obi-Wan's plan, even as Anakin huffed at being left out.

"Right," he said, beginning to walk over to the freighter sitting on the beach. "Let's get this over with."

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How are you liking this so far? What do you think will happen next? Tell me if you want more.

#Getting Drop Kicked by the Force #my fics #star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #sequel trilogy #finnpoe #poe dameron #finn #rey #obi-wan #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #tcw fanfiction #mace windu #jedi finn #jedi order

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imtryingmyfuckingbe · 4 years ago

Text

And If This Is It

Third chapter in a short series.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Mentions: Jess, Sam, Charlie, Cas, Gabriel, Jo, Jules (OC)

Trigger warnings: Excessive alcohol consumption; puking

I am the sole author and reserve the rights to my work. However, I am not the owner of Supernatural as a franchise, or the characters including, but not limited to: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Gabriel, Jo, Jess, or Charlie.

CHAPTER THREE:

“Shots?!” Jules shouts over the deafening music.

He passes a tiny glass of clear alcohol to Y/N and Charlie. At this point, neither know if it’s tequila, gin, or vodka. At this point, neither truly care.

Carter’s, the hole-in-the-wall dive tucked between a pawn shop and convenience store, housed the trio every Wednesday night. When unable to convene outside of work any other time of the week, they at least have their sticky booth and cheap booze to fall back upon. If Y/N had half the mind to care, she could bet the shady owner had an unsavory side business that allowed for such decently priced alcohol. But she doesn’t have half the mind. The sharp air intoxicates her even before the first drink, drawing her attention elsewhere. Plus, Jules always arrives first to claim their usual seats, a round of drinks at the ready. Tonight, he focuses on shots.

They clink their glasses together, slam them on the grimy counter, and tip them back. Charlie cheers, her flushed cheeks pushed back in a sloppy, wide grin. Her laughter bellows into Y/N’s chest, forcing her to join in. The tribulations of the past seven days wash away with each new shot. Her mind only wanders as far as Jules across the table and Charlie next to her. Nothing mattered right now, not unrequited love or shitty jobs.

“So! So! Then I said, I said! I don’t care what those bitches think. I’m— I’m a good server, ya know? And I told James— “

“—Jason,” Jules supplies.

“—Yeah, that one. I told Jason to stick it!” Charlie slurs, recounting her meeting with their boss.

Y/N cocks her head at Charlie, who white knuckles the table to stay steady. “Did you really?” She speaks slowly, the words catching on her heavy tongue.

“No. But I thought it. So it counts.”

Jules and Y/N share a look. “Sure it does.”

Out of the three of them, Jules holds his liquor the best. He drinks anyone under the table, and still gets up for work without a grueling hangover. Y/N took Thursdays out of her availability because she doesn’t have his stamina. It took only two shifts filled with headaches and poor service for her to realize she cannot power through the dehydration and pain. Wednesday nights take it out of her, and the following morning includes a date with her toilet and a bottle of Pedialyte. Trying to keep up with Jules, which she foolishly does, is a signed, sealed, delivered death sentence.

She happily accepts it, for it means quality time with her friends.

“Listen, missy. You listen here! You don’t get to talk about— about thinking things and not saying them!” Charlie accuses. Y/N holds up a hand in protest. “No! I don’ wanna h-hear it.”

In just a few words, the thoughtless cocoon Y/N made shelter in crashes to the ground, bringing up debris and Dean’s face. His freckles. His lips. The things she wishes she could say— I love you, I want you, I need you— taunt her, dancing across her mind and scuffing up the floors. “Yeah? Well I don’t wanna talk about it!” She all but shouts.

Charlie huffs. “Fine.”

Jules says nothing, simply peering at his two best friends with mild concern in his glossed over eyes. Y/N avoids his gaze, instead choosing to watch the desolate street through the frosty glass. Charlie waves her hand to the waiter to call for another round.

With new shots in front of the respective drinkers, the tense silence dissipates quickly, easy conversation about what each other missed taking its place. Jules relays the details of his third date with Alice, a girl he served once. She left her number and on a whim he decided to text her. The thirty percent tip she left helped her case, too. The two get along great, from what he says. They share similar interests, including early morning trips to the gym and pretty much any physical activity. At the thought, Y/N shudders. She reserves her mornings for her bed and coffee.

As Jules carries on about the lovely Alice, Y/N finds herself thinking down a stark path. It travels away from Carter’s worn booths and blaring music, finding solace in scratching concrete and big hands. Some days, she truly wishes she could call Him her boyfriend. Some days, she only wishes to be near Him. Right now, it’s the latter. The too-loud conversations around her, the thick air, the heavy warmth in her belly; it makes breathing a chore.

Charlie grabs her wrist, pulling her over-worked thumb from her teeth. The crevice between her nail and skin bleeds. Out of her head now, she realizes her friends stare at her, conversation ceased. Jules’ eyes bore into hers, and she can feel Charlie staring at the side of her head.

She doesn’t have to ask what crosses their minds. Their faces paint light worry and their questions clearly. Y/N sighs, head dipping to focus on the empty glass before her. Neither of her friends say anything, allowing her to trudge through her hazy thoughts.

“I…” she starts, but shakes her head. Needing a something to center her, she throws back her head and swallows another shot. It burns, but it reminds her she is alive and well. Well enough, at least.

Charlie only knows what an inebriated Y/N shared once, and she assumes Charlie happily passed on the message. Even still, the words halt in her throat. Charlie interlocks their fingers, giving a squeeze. It’s okay, Y/N knows she wants to say. “I need some air.”

Not awaiting a response, she drops Charlie’s hand and alights from the booth. Concentrating on walking, Y/N works her way through the crowd to the door. The cooling air of the night caresses her cheeks, relieving some of the heat from her skin. The car-lined road before her, adorned by dim streetlights and neon store signs, appears in double. Cigarette smoke wafts to her nose.

She turns towards the scent. Sober Y/N would never smoke. The taste lingers on her tongue days after, plaguing anything she drinks or eats. However, Drunk Y/N, riddled with anxiety and one too many shots, craves it.

A woman clad in little clothing leans against the worn brick, cigarette balanced between her fore- and middle finger. Y/N stumbles the few feet to her, her body moving before her thoughts. The lady looks up. Her tired eyes trail over Y/N’s body, taking in the sight, ending at her face. Y/N tries to imagine how she looks.

“Can I bum a smoke?”

Wordless, the woman passes Y/N her pack of menthol and a lighter. Nodding in thanks, she lights the cigarette and draws a deep breath in. Sweet relief. She sighs contentedly, handing the pack and lighter back. In silence, Y/N joins the stranger in leaning against the wall. Drunken camaraderie over a bad habit makes the world feel smaller; friendlier.

Here she stands, a mess. And here some straggler stands, someone she’s never met, probably going through her own shit. People are small, in the grand scheme of things. The big picture. Everything feels silly, like a cosmic prank, wherein God will jump from the sky and yell, “Hahahah! Happiness is not a by product of existence, you simple minded fucks. I made you to suffer.”

She wouldn’t be surprised, not anymore. Some days, her heavy bones and even heavier head weigh her down so much, all she can do is suffer. Suffer through schooling; a dead end job; a wistful love; a bleak future. Perhaps God created her as suffering; not a person who could, but a person who is.

A long drag from the cigarette clears her mind. She reminds herself that her sidewalk existential philosophy is only wise by proxy of this night’s poison.

Flicking the cigarette, she nods her head in thanks. With a clearer head, the double vision subsides. Still, she sways as she walks back to the door of the bar. Bracing herself, she pushes it open. Music, this time a familiar song she can’t place, wraps its comforting fingers around her heart. This is where she is meant to be: sandwiched between the tacky wall and Charlie, sat across from Jules.

Charlie stands as Y/N comes into view, allowing her to take her seat once more. The conversation continues seamlessly, as if Y/N never left. Jules and Charlie keep the side glances to minimum, instead focusing on another round— this time paired with glasses of water— and what Jules’ should do next with Alice. Deciding to solely focus on her friends before her, Y/N utilizes her remaining energy on keeping up with the conversation.

“I mean… she seems to like you a lot, dude. Who the hell… else would get up at five to go on hikes?” Y/N slurs, raising her voice.

“A crazy, person! She’s crazy.” Charlie whispers with a shake of her head.

Y/N laughs, downing another shot. “Yeah, well, either way, she likes it, ya’know? She likes it!”

They dissolve into a fit of body-rocking, soul-shaking laughter. As it peters out, the energy follows suit. Y/N hits a wall, her shoulders sagging with a sigh. “I’m— I’m gotta go, guys. My eyes are gonna fall out.”

“Wait! Just one more shot. C’mon, Y/N/N! One for the road,” implores Jules.

Ever the bad influence, Y/N agrees. In the back of her head, she hears her sober-self admonish her. She pushes it away while Jules waves his pointer finger for another round. Grace, the waitress, already has three ready. Used to their antics as their usual server, she also drops the bill.

Clink, slam, gulp.

Y/N slaps a twenty on the bill, knowing it covers her portion of drinks. Charlie scoots out of the booth again, staying standing to wrap Y/N in a bone-crushing hug. The scent of vodka and Daisy fills Y/N’s nose, covering every piece of her in Charlie. Jules envelopes her next. Her cheek rests against his chest, and he sets his chin on her head. They hold each other for a moment before pulling back.

Y/N leaves her friends to settle the rest of the bill. Escaping into the night, she embraces the cool air. However much she finds solace in Carter’s, the stuffy heat paired with the little room to move constricts her. Even on the now empty street, her chest refuses to loosen. The returned double vision surely doesn’t help.

“Walk,” she mumbles, commanding herself to just fucking go.

Normally, she would call a ride service right about now; or she’d stick around with Jules and Charlie to ride with them. But right now she needs the freedom of the seedy side streets and open sky above her. Four doors and a short roof would only further agitate her.

So, for the sake of her sanity, she makes her way down the street. Having walked these streets many times, Y/N’s feet carry her, rather than she commanding them. As she works her way towards the main road, the lights become brighter and cleaner; trash slowly dwindles in the gutters until they’re as clean as they can get in this part of the city.

At the intersection of Boulder and Hamilton, she stops. Going left would lead her home, a destination twenty minutes away. Going right would take her to Dean. Her body decides before her mind. Five minutes and a few turns, she stands on Dean’s stoop.

Her heavy fist raps against the wood while she leans her forehead against the cool service. Eyes closed, Y/N focuses on slowing her breathing. The edges of a panic attack creep into her mind. Why am I here? Why am I here? Why am I—

The door opens, taking from Y/N her support. Without it, she falls forward, preparing to meet the unfriendly catching of the floor. Instead, warm, bare arms wrap around her waist. “Y/N?” Dean asks in his deep, gruff tone.

God, I love your voice. The thought crosses her mind before she can stop it.

“Oh, do you, now?” Dean teases, righting her on her feet but keeping his hands on her shoulders.

Fuck.

“Shuddap,” she scolds.

“What are you doing here, Y/N/N?” He moves a hand from her shoulder to grasp her chin, pointing her face to look at him.

She leans into it. “Drunk.”

Dean chuckles, a warm sound that pushes any anxiety out of her mind. He has that way about him. “I can see that. Here, come inside so I can close the door.” She does as he asks, still leaning into his touch. He leads her to his couch, guiding her gently down onto the cushion. Resting on his knees in between her legs, he examines her face again.

She tries to look him in the eyes, she truly tries, but their overwhelming jade and the smell of his shampoo and his hands and that little grin and— and— and. The list goes on forever. In the dim room, lit by the outside lights and the paused TV, she wants to fall into him. Her fingers itch to grab his stupid stubbled cheeks and bring his stupid plump lips to her own. Her heart threatens to jump straight from her chest and into his hands. Her skin prickles where his forefinger and thumb hold her chin.

“Traitors,” she mumbles.

“Hm?”

Y/N shakes her head, causing Dean to release her chin. Dammit. “Nothing. I’m just— I’m so drunk, dude.”

He laughs again, sending a wave of peace over her body. “Yes, I know. Let’s get some water in you.”

Water sounds like a great idea, just the mention causes Y/N’s mouth to dry, readying for the coolness to coat her throat and fill her stomach. While Dean pours her a glass, she better settles against the sofa, shifting until her back rests against the arm and her legs splay out before her. The cold of the leather raises goosebumps, but it grounds her.

Dean returns with a stainless steel tumbler, placing it on the cushion by her hip. He lifts her legs and rests them upon his thighs as he too settles into the couch. Arm rested on the top of the couch and eyes caressing her flushed cheeks, he awaits for her to speak.

Every thought racing through her mind pleads to blurt out “I love you!” in some form or another. Taking a long, refreshing sip, she swallows the water and her heart. The hand gently kneading her calf provides almost enough courage to cast aside her inhibitions, but instead she listens to the voice in the back of her head. Why ruin something great? Why risk it?

Pussy, her warring side jabs.

Shaking her head, she removes her gaze from his and unto the television. “Die Hard?”

He waits a beat before he speaks, “Yes. How are you feeling?”

“Like there’s two John… John McClanes on the TV, which means two Hans Gru—bers, and I… I dunno if I can watch that.”

Glorious, golden, all-compassing laughter. “Well, I’m sure the McClanes will be fine; twice the firepower.”

Y/N can’t stop herself from returning to gazing at Dean. The lights from the kitchen silhouette his face, but she sees it, nonetheless. Knows it like its her own, for she sure has stared at him long enough. His seemingly perpetual little grin pushes his cheeks up the slightest bit. He looks so young.

With little thought or permission, she reaches a hand out to brush against his cheek. The barely present beard tickles her palm. Dean’s eyes flutter shut, and he nuzzles further into her hand. If only she could stay like this, legs across Dean’s, hand on his cheek, eyes closed.

“Dean…” she whispers, mostly for herself. Her heart will never get used to sitting so close to him, a beacon on her worst of days and a partner on her best.

“Hm?” he asks, still leaning into her touch.

It takes everything from her, her willpower, her bones, her chest, her lungs. She can’t stop herself for much longer, she knows. And, the thing is, her traitorous body doesn’t protest. Nothing in her says to stop; everything in her begs— no, screams at— her to grab him and hold him tight. To never let go.

As she leans forward, her left hand reaching for his other cheek, the tumbler clatters to the floor with an unforgiving clang. They both startle back, Y/N drawing her legs from his lap and Dean finally opening his eyes. The withering stare she casts at the stupid bottle should shatter it. Instead, it stays whole and mocking. She reaches down to right it, her knuckles white as she harshly slams it onto the floor.

The lights seem to bright, now. The throbbing in her head makes its presence better known, pulsing the picture of John McClane leaning over a sniper rifle. Bile rises in her throat.

“Fuck,” she barely gets out before bolting from her seat and running for the bathroom. Way to ruin the moment, you monkey.

Y/N grabs the edge of the toilet with one hand, gathering her hair into a mock ponytail with the other. At the sight of the bowl, her stomach instantly lurches. With the little she had to eat, mostly burning alcohol makes a return, accompanied by some nachos and fries.

A set of hands replace her’s in her hair, allowing her to better grasp the toilet. Dean settles behind her, bracing her sides with his thighs and whispering unintelligible comforting words in her ear. With his free hand he rubs her back, up and down her shoulder blades to her lower back.

No longer retching, she wipes her mouth toilet paper. Her body still shakes, skin clammy and hot. She crosses her arms over the seat, resting her forehead against her forearms. Dean continues to massage circles into her skin. “I’m sorry,” she mutters, to the bowl and to Dean.

He releases her hair, instead choosing to pull her from the toilet and into his chest. Together, limbs wrapped endlessly, Dean leans against the wall and she leans against Dean. “Nothing to be sorry for, Y/N/N. C’mon, you’ve seen me completely plastered.”

She tips her head to the side, resting it against his shoulder. “It’s gross. Not cute. At all.”

His chuckle rumbles against her back. “Nah, you’re always cute.” It’s barely a whisper, if she weren’t next to his mouth she’s sure she wouldn’t have heard it.

They sit in silence, breathing against each other. Y/N revels in the coolness of the ground and his arms around her waist.

“Why’d you drink so much, Y/N/N?”

Her sighs heaves her shoulders. “I dunno. Why do you drink, Dean?”

“Sometimes to forget things.” He keeps his voice level, but Y/N knows him well enough to see he worries for her. The implications of his statement do not go unnoticed.

She shakes her head. “I just have a lot going on. Plus, it’s Wednesday. You know that’s my night with Jules and Charlie. We drink. It’s what we do.”

“Okay. Just checking. Let’s get you to bed, kid.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #and if this is it #supernatural #SUPERNATURAL AU #supernatural fic #friends to lovers

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taehyungsgrowl · 5 years ago

Note

What about Duncan coming home to you riding Jim and he gets all mad and punishes you 🙊😳

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST

We’re kind combining a few prompts because we’ve been talking about bringing some angst to the sugar babies so.

Also you emo hoes really wanted some angst, I think it was the most requested prompt for the sugar babies.

–

Jim was laid out on the massive bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. He seemed almost bored as he blinked his eyes slowly.

Y/N know she was bored. She couldn’t find anything to keep her focus or attention all day. And she missed Duncan terribly.

Jim and Y/N had spent the long weekend with their sugar daddy, but now that he had to go back to work, well, she was having withdrawals. It also didn’t help that Duncan had to rush out of the house that morning even though she had expressed just how needy she felt that morning.

She plopped herself down on the bed, laying on her tummy besides him. Jim didn’t take his eyes off the silly video he watched on his phone; just continued to double tap and scroll.

She rolled her eyes at him. It was one thing for Duncan to ignore her, but Jimmy too?

“Jim,” she whined, poking his side, “I’m bored.”

“Same,” he set his phone down, and putting his hands behind his head, propping himself up.

“You know what I’m in the mood for?” she interrupted him, placing her hand on his crotch.

Jim couldn’t hide the smirk to form on his face. He noticed just how pouty Y/N had gotten when Duncan left in a hurry and he saw just for frustrated she seemed all day.

“Ah,” he raises his brows, eyes wandering down to her hand on the print of his cock. “Well,” he thinks it through, “I’m sure we can think of something to kill this boredom..” he removes her hand from his crotch and pulls her on top of him.

“Mhmm,” she agrees, shifting on his lap, building the friction between them. “And what did you have in mind, Jim,” she slid her hand on the inside of his shirt, feeling his warm skin on her fingertips.

Simultaneously, Jim’s fingers are at her pants, tugging and pulling them down, “I think you know, kitten.” Y/N lifted herself up enough to help Jim ease off her pants along with kicking his own off.

Once he finally freed them both from the discomfort of their pants, she sat back down on his lap. Her folds rubbed slowly against his veiny length; Her eyes fluttered shut as she imagined the sweet release she had been craving all day. Y/N was so wet, she easily glided back and forth on his cock that was neatly sandwiched between his stomach and her pussy.

“Y/N..” he moaned quietly, “C’mon. Haven’t you teased yourself enough?” he grabbed her hips guiding her.

“Hm,” she mused, “And here I thought I was the needy one,” she giggled.

“Oh, you still definitely are.” he chuckled as he took his cock and teased her entrance.

“Jim..” it was her turn to whine again.

“See,” he smirked.

With that, he aligned himself at her entrance and she carefully sank down on him, engulfing his full length in between her legs.

They both breathed out a sigh of relief was her warm cunt hugged his throbbing cock; sliding down on in until his base was pressed against her.

She ground her hips into his repeatedly, relishing the sensation of him stretching her out.

Duncan let out a frustrated sigh as he entered the apartment. He was so fed up with the idiots under his management. He had returned to work for one full day and they already made him feel like he aged five years.

“Jim.. Y/N..” he called out. He knew they were home, both of their cars were neatly parked in the parking lot. Duncan kicked off his shoes and followed the faint sounds of heavy breathing that came from his room.

“Jim..” Y/N echoed, followed by Jim’s low grunts.

“Fuck, princess..” Jim slapped her as she came down on his cock, “Feels so-”

Duncan felt like he was punched in the gut. All he wanted was to come home and enjoy Y/N and Jim’s presence -- only to find them enjoying each other without him. He hated to admit the slow burning ache he felt.

Thinking back to all the times he’s walked in on them laughing at their inside jokes made when he’s away. All the hidden secrets they know of each other from a life before Duncan.

Suddenly all those feeling began to pour in.

He knew it wasn’t like that. He knew it.

But with the weight of everything on his shoulders - from his mom, his job, the future of the country - this seemed like the easiest thing to take it out on.

He was wrong for it, but he could’t stop the hurt and discouragement he felt.

How despite having two people who loved him immensely - he still felt alone.

“Feels so good?” Duncan spoke in a low voice, making them both stop abruptly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Daddy,” Y/N whined, clearly not reading the energy in the room. Duncan was fuming. Jim lifted himself up a bit, catching on to Duncan’s anger.

Normally, if Duncan walked in on something like this, he’d scold them and punish them. In a fun way. The kind of punishment they enjoyed. He’d walk over to them, kiss them, tell them how naughty they were, and then join them.

But he wasn’t in the fucking mood.

So his sugar babies who he spoils the hell out don’t need him to have fun - then what the hell was the point. All three of them had made it clear from the beginning that everything would be communicated and it would mutual.

If Jim and Y/N had each other - who did Duncan have?

“Don’t.” he shook his head at her, beginning to loosen his tie. “Well,” he continued with the buttons on his cuffs, “Are you at least going to have the courtesy to get out of my bed while you fuck? Or do I have to watch this poor attempt at attention?”

“Duncan what’s wrong?” she asked as both her and Jim began to separate, clumsily looking for their clothes.

“Nothing’s wrong.” he responded curtly.

Jim and Y/N shared a look too afraid to take a step towards him. Not because they were afraid he’d actually hurt them, but they didn’t want to upset him any further.

Duncan knew he was overreacting. He knew it. He was just too upset to be rational about it.

“Listen.” he finally let out a breath when he saw they didn’t even make an attempt to say something. “No one’s fucking forcing you to be with me okay? You’re not the first and you certainly won’t be the last, escorts I hire.”

Jealousy was clouding Duncan’s mind. He wasn’t jealous of Jim because he was fucking Y/N. And he wasn’t jealous that Y/N was fucking Jim.

He felt as though they didn’t actually need him. And it hurt him more than anything - because even if he couldn’t admit now, Duncan needed them.

“Hire? Duncan what the fuck?” Jim finally spoke up. His voice quivered slightly. “You don’t mean that. You know it’s not like that.”

“Do I?” he snapped back. “Because it looks to me like you don’t fucking need me. You had each other before me. You’ll have each other after me. What’s the fucking point? To give you money for a pity fuck?”

“You know it’s not about your money.” Jim tried to keep his ever calm composure. Y/N who was known to be quite the firecracker of the trio, strangely kept quiet, hurdled a few steps behind Jim. Jim took a weak step forward, not wanting to rock the boat. “I love you. We love you,” he looked back at Y/N who simply nodded her head.

“Right.” Duncan nodded his head. “I’m staying in the guest room tonight.” he picked up some sweats from his nightstand. “You two have fun.”

Y/N looked over at Jim who just stared at the door as Duncan walked away. They knew when he was upset it was best to give him his room to breathe.

“He.. he doesn’t love us?” she spoke quietly, stunned by how the night had developed.

“He’s just got a lot on his plate right now.” Jim justified for Duncan. “He loves us.” he repeated to himself to make it real.

“Do you think maybe we can, you know, make it up to him,” Y/N suggested with heavy implication behind her words.

“A blow job isn’t gonna fucking fix, it Y/N.” he quipped.

“Don’t yell at me too.” her lip shook. “This is my fault, isn’t it?”

All she wanted was for the three of them to be together and to be happy.

“It’s not.” he reached for her hand and made her sit besides him, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “He’ll be okay. Let him rest. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“What if he meant it, Jim?”

“We have a lot to talk about.” Jim pulled her in closer and kissed the top of her head.

***

Duncan climbed into the rarely used queen sized bed in his extra room. The foreign feel of being in a bed that wasn’t his (and one without Jim and Y/N) did send a slight wash of comfort.

He pulled his covers up to his chin and curled in on himself, not allowing a single sound to come out of his sadness as he held himself to sleep.

The next morning he woke with a pounding headache at his temples. The stress from the night before feeling lighter. Reaching for his phone, he sent out his secretary to cancel all meetings as he would be staying home.

Guilt settled in his lower stomach remembering the cold words he told his loves. He didn’t mean - and he hopes with everything in him that they know that.

Duncan took his time before leaving the safe confines of his guest room. He lingered in the shower, wising the hot steam would cleanse him of the remorseful feeling he felt.

He knew he shouldn’t have taken out his anger and frustration on them. It was a shit thing to do and it was eating away at him. The hurt look in Y/N’s eyes bored into his brain.

They were so much more than cheap whores. They were his family. His loves.

Duncan heard their distinct voices in the kitchen along with the sounds of soft music playing. After getting ready, he walked out of the room and quietly padded to the kitchen.

Y/N looked up from the bowl of fruit she was making when she felt Duncan standing in the doorway. His honey colored locks were darkened by the water making them appear darker.

“Hey..” his voice was just above a whisper, his right hand rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” both Y/N and Duncan spoke at the same time. He walked towards her and Jim.

“Last night was inexcusable. I was hurt and frustrated but I shouldn’t have let that out on you. It was uncalled for.” his eyes danced between his baby and his princess.

“We know you didn’t mean it Duncan.” Jim placed an arm around Duncan’s waist, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Relief.

He knew they would understand (not that it excused his behavior - but they knew how much he actually cared.)

“Sit down, Duncan.” Y/N offered him a small smile. “We have to talk.”

She and Jim both noticed the flash of worry that crossed his eyes. “I’m okay..” he spoke cautiously. “What’s wrong?” he sensed the need they had to tell him something and it made his stomach churn.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Jim almost echoed Duncan’s words from the night before.

Duncan pulled out a bar stool from the kitchen bar and took a seat. “Alright then. What is it?”

“We want to end the arrangement.”

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#Anonymous #duncan x sugar babies #duncan shepherd #jim mason #duncan x jim x y/n #house of cards #hoc #hottie #the tribes of palos verdes #cody fern #ahs #american horror story #1984 #ahs 1984 #duncan shepherd angst #jim mason angst #jim mason smut

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breezy-cheezy · 5 years ago

Text

I finished Final Fantasy 7 Remake

Long story short, I loved it!! So much!! And there’s alot I wanna rant about so here we are. A review of sorts?? Major spoilers ahead!

And if y’all think you’re immune to spoilers because you played the original FF7, YOU ARE NOT. Lots of new stuff here....just warning y’all.

Although! I did find this great looking walkthrough playlist if anyone’s interested and can’t play the thing themselves? Idk how complete it is with the details, but from a glance it looks nice!

- FIRST OF ALL the music in it all is amazing!!! From the menu song all throughout, I got Emotional. All the rehashings of Aerith’s theme?? Tifa’s theme?? The FF7 main theme here are there?? AMAZING!!!! I need to find a tracklist or something there are so many versions of the songs specific to the scenes they played in and I die??? Man it is Good.

- On the music front, I really enjoyed the Jukebox feature! So they could add in old classic songs that story-wise couldn’t appear yet...good nostalgia there.

- Lil disclaimer, I played the original FF7 fairly recently, on Steam. HOWEVER. I played Crisis Core years ago, and watched Advent Children, etc. And Final Fantasy music has been a staple homework playlist for me for ages now.... So yes I’m new to the whole FF7 original story. But not new in how most people are...it’s a weird situation lol. Like I knew the general FF7 story for awhile but just recently filled the details....

- The gameplay is awesome!! I wasn’t great at it, but...tbh it felt like mechanics combo of the original FF7, FF15, annnnd Kingdom Hearts :D Also appreciated it PAUSED when you picked out commands lol. Loved upgrading weapons. Loved working with materia. I wish there were like...ways to save a materia set so you could easily switch over when your characters were switched out though X’’’’D

- Biggs is Aro/Ace

- Cloud is VERY Aro/Ace

- Tifa might be Ace

- I decided long ago (in my Crisis Core phase) that Sephiroth is Aro/Ace. There’s nothing to “prove it” in this game but I’m holding to it. I have claimed these characters askjdhuiwdhguerhgr

- Side note, slightly related, but I love how the relationships shone in this remake?? Lots of casual, comfortable touch with Tifa and Cloud (in which Cloud seems in general pretty touch averse due likely to Trauma) in a “we’ve known each other our whole lives” way and gosh I love them. Aerith with Cloud is adorable. Barret!!! Was characterized SO WELL here, and I love him way more than I ever did!! Barret and Tifa interactions as well were so heartfelt and wonderful aaaaaa how good

- Like...Barret haaaates Cloud in the beginning. But somewhere along the way he adopts Cloud instead and ain’t that fantastic?? He just can’t contain how much he cares about others and especially his daughter and goSH I love him.

- Aerith!! I love her!! She gave such a vibe that she knows more than she says, but is still so cute and sweet and sassy I LOVE!!!! Also that scene in the train graveyard with baby Aerith ;;~;;

- Also

Cloud: You need any help??

Aerith, climbing a ladder: I’m fine. You don’t need to treat me like a princess or anything~~~

*ladder breaks*

Aerith, completely serious: s h * t.

I LAUGH

- Cloud was actually really cute with kids!!!!!

- I think I saw a post where they talked about how much more consistent characterizations were here?? I have to agree. I feel some stuff was lost in translation while playing FF7 original, and it felt alot more put together, character-wise, here. I feel like some of that was learned from FF15 and its success with character relationships?? It was Good.

_ I rambled about this before, but Wall Market was every bit as embarrassing as you would think. *covers face*

- Also I thought it was interesting how they handled who was in your party when! A little annoying sometimes though, switching materia around!!! DX I also really wanted to actually PLAY Red XIII/Nanaki....but sure make him an NPC, whatever. (I am grateful he healed me often.)

- *me when Nanaki shows up* AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! THERE HE IS!!!!!!! (sidenote, in the original, I didn’t wanna call him by his experiment name. He’s the only character I changed the name of. The name I picked? Ignis. :”D )

- The motorcycle segments were ANNOYING AS HECK, especially that last one in escaping the Shinra building DX The game forced your camera to focus on the boss and that made the controls VERY ANNOYING. Cool to watch tho.

- I actually almost completed the game boss fight chain early last night!! But RIGHT when I got to Sephiroth, the family demanded I get off the TV for their use D: all that progress....I had to redo ALOT. DX

- STILL the fights were VERY cool! Reminded me of KHII end alot actually, jumping around on broken floating buildings and whatnot?? Also the creature looked like a HUGE DARKSIDE heartless lol

- There’s actually alot in this remake that gives alot of a KH feel to me?? Nomura I see you....

- *screeching the One Winged Angel theme still not knowing the words*

- I LOVED how they showed scenes of the future in the end?? Probably ripped from Advent Children, but?? The characters actually seeing that?? Going “this CAN’T be our future!!” Yo. Also it’s implied it might not HAPPEN now going against destiny and all. I know alot of people are pissed but I am EXCITED. I’m all for a fix-it fic game thank YOU.

- Speaking of fix-it: ZACK. ZAAAAAACK!!!!!! It’s implied he’s alive in one reality so WHERE IS HE??????? I’m so curious about this new story. I’m gonna eat up theories. I want!! To see!! My baby boy!!!!!! to be Fair (haha) I spoiled myself knowing he was in the game but I didn’t know WHEN!!!

- This is terrible, but I love how much they expressed how NOT OK Cloud is. His mental state is awful, but boi won’t talk about it.

- Like I know it’s in the original, but it comes up ALOT more in the remake, and the flashbacks/brain short out moments are more obvious in HD for sure. Plus Cloud’s eyes seem more green there, which is a great touch!! Also the incredible FORESHADOWING it brought. Love it. Please someone help this idiot with his headaches....

- I did get annoyed with the whole scene in Hojo’s lab. Cloud’s walking like a zombie toward where Jenova is, saying CONCERNING things, and NO ONE reaches out until he outright collapses? We all just gonna stand back and watch?? Sure ok.

- Hojo is absolutely disgusting and horrifying and exactly how I imagined him, creators did great job.

- Also why does no one use curaga in these character death scenes???? Potion? Anything????Hello??????

- I was so relieved Wedge (and one of his 3 cats) got to live, and then devastated when they chucked him out a window last minute ;;A;; still. I didn’t see a body. Maybe he’s ok.....*sobs*

- I WAS NOT EXPECTING BIGGS TO BE SEEN IN RECOVERY THO YEEEEESSSSS (I love ANY sign that they DID manage to change the future a little...I thought he was dead!!) Fun fact! The one part I legitimately started crying was when Biggs “died”! Hhhhhhhhhh

- Those dang dementors huh? X’’’D Whispers of fate...there to make sure the story goes according to the original game basically. Does that make the whispers the purist fans of FF7? ...please don’t kill me for that comment sidfiushguigerha

- I just wanna say making a game ABOUT making a remake (that is different from the original) and the struggles in that is VERY meta and so clever and delightful and I LOVE IT. I really wanna see what happens next....

All in all I spent 52 hours on this game. WAY more than I expected for only covering Midgar. And I ENJOYED it!! Some parts felt like the story was being dragged/padded, but most of the time I didn’t care. Also there’s even more to do?? Apparently I missed some scenes....I don’t have time for now, but maybe someday. Or maybe I’ll just look them up ;;7;;

It’s a good game y’all!!

#breezy babbles #breezy plays ffVII #ff7 remake spoilers #ffVIIr #ff7remake #final fantasy #ff #SPOILERS #but also a helpful link for those that can't get the game!#seems like a good video series of the playthrough #excuse me while I use tumblr as a journal and rant my thoughts #again #and claim characters to my ace headcanons lol #this is a good game and I'd highly recommend thank yoU #so many ideas to draw so little time

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ladyautie · 4 years ago

Text

get to know me more!

@funyasm tagged me and I’m bored after writing my chapter, so here it is!

✨ what do you prefer to be called name wise?

My name’s Sophie. My friends call me Spencou or Spence. We met on a Role-Playing game forum where I played a character named Spencer. We’re used to call each other by our characters’ names and nicknames, most of the time. My brother calls me Sis’.

✨ when is your birthday?

15th november 1993.

✨ where do you live?

Paris, France.

✨ three things you are doing right now?

I’m watching an episode of AT4W on youtube, scrolling on Tumblr and I’m drinking a coffee.

✨ four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now?

Definitely It and especially Eddie Kaspbrak and the ship Reddie. I’m kinda obsessed right now, writing fanfic, reading fanfic, daydreaming about it and all.

I just played the Last of Us 2 and I’m currently watching a let’s play from my favorite youtubers, Mari and Stacy from Geek Remix. I’ll probably read a few fics as well.

The tv show Barry (HBO) is a definite special interest for me. I’m probably going to watch it all once again real soon and I’m planning on writing a fanfic or two in the future. I’m dying for the third season to come.

Finally, I’m probably going to be super into The Umbrella Academy once again, when the second season will be released. I’m just really into Vanya, Klaus and Allison and I can’t wait to see more of them.

✨ how is the pandemic treating you?

None of the people I know have been contaminated, so I’m lucky about that. I’m not quarantined anymore, back to work, and the transition is not easy.

I feel like I’m more openly autistic than I used to be and that I can’t stand the rest of the world for a long period of time. I’ve experienced multiple meltdowns and shutdowns and I have real difficulties to socialize with most people or to focus on my work.

I feel incredibly naked and vulnerable whenever I’m leaving my flat without my mask on, so I think that’s definitely something I’m gonna have to work on in the future.

Leaving Paris and meeting my folks for my mother’s wedding, I found myself surrounded by people who mostly didn’t care about the virus, kissing each other on the cheek in true french fashion to say hello, hugging, not wearing a mask, not respecting any kind of social distance.

I was quickly overwhelmed by all of that, plus the noise, and I had to isolate myself in my parents’ car, sobbing hysterically and willing to suffer in a overheated car if it meant having a bit of peace.

There are definitely going to be long-term consequences. I can only hope that my physical health will remain okay, though.

✨ song you can’t stop listening right now?

Keep On by Sasha Sloan. I just really love the lyrics and the message.

✨ recommend a movie.

Whenever I have to think of a movie to recommend, Frank by Lenny Abrahamson is the first one that comes to my mind. This movie is an obsession for me since the first time I watched it and I often find myself watching it again and again. Despite its heavy subjects, it’s definitely a comfort movie for me.

Too often, movies featuring mentally ill characters will aim for the characters to “get better”, which doesn’t mean for them to find healthy ways to cope with their issues, but usually for them to look more “neurotypical-like”, if you know what I mean. Frank doesn’t go that way at all. On the contrary, it pushes the viewer to empathize with the main characters and to understand their point of view, their way of being.

It’s so incredibly comforting to watch a movie featuring mental illness realistic and not romanticized and to have the movie say “you’re different and you have issues, but you’ll find your tribe someday and be able to find your own happiness, even if it’s unconventional by society’s standards”.

I don’t know, I just have so much feelings about this movie. Plus the music slaps, the humor is hilarious (kudos to the random French guy who can perfectly understand English but refuses to utter a single word if it’s not in French) and the actors are truly on point (I can only salute Domnhall Gleeson, among everyone else who is also worthy of praise, because he definitely managed to make me hate his character in a way I almost never hated a character before).

Watch it!

✨ how old are you?

I’m 26 years old.

✨ school, university, occupation, other?

I used to be a librarian, but I couldn’t find a stable job in this field, so I passed an entrance examination and I’m now working in the tax administration. Yeah, not really glamorous, but it pays the bills and I’m accommodated for my disability, so it helps.

✨ do you prefer hot or cold?

Definitely cold. When I was a kid, I used to swim in mountain lakes, at temperatures close to 13° celsius, and I still take my showers mostly cold. I can’t stand heat, I get headaches very easily when it’s sunny and I’m getting confused easily whenever it’s too hot. I recently had a nosebleed at work so intense that I found myself spitting blood (it went better once I got a fan, making the temperature bearable).

✨ name one fact others may not know about you.

I used to be allergic to my own sweat when I was around 18, until my early twenties. Whenever I was doing a mild physical effort or getting stressed out, I would get hives and itchy skin rash all over my whole freaking body, which was so exhausting that I would fall asleep immediately as soon as the rash was gone.

It disappeared as suddenly as it appeared, without me ever doing something about it. I still don’t know why I experienced that and if I’m going to experience that ever again. I hope not.

✨ are you shy?

My autism makes social interactions complicated, but I’d say I’m mostly impaired by my social anxiety and the various traumas I’m dealing with daily.

Traumas I got after having been bullied pretty badly by kids and teachers during my school years, my stepfather being borderline abusive and different traumatic experiences, including my childhood crush dying from a ski accident when I was 15 or so (and me never being able to tell him that I loved him) and people betraying me so many times that I can’t even recall every little thing.

As a result, I find myself doubting constantly that I’m worthy of love, affection and respect and I often wonder when I’ll do or say the “wrong” thing that will cause me to lose everyone I care about. I also have a hard time knowing who I am and, as a result, allowing everyone to know who I am as well.

I often don’t know what to say and will find myself keeping my mouth shut, even on topics I’m knowledgeable about, because I’m scared of people shutting me down, among other things. My friends make it easier for me to talk about things I like and all, but I’m still heavily doubting myself.

I try to challenge myself regularly. I’ll force myself to take part in events that are taxing or that are forcing me to perform in front of people. That’s how I found myself taking part in the casting part of the french equivalent of “American Idol” (I merely met the pre-judges, but I did manage to sing my whole song in front of them). I needed to prove to myself that I could do it.

✨ do you have any preferred pronouns?

I’m using she/her, but I don’t mind people using they/them to talk about me if they don’t want to be gender-specific.

✨ any pet peeves?

I hate how people can freely and openly be homophobic, racist, ableist, transphobic, sexist and so on, but as soon as I open my mouth to let them know that what they said/did wasn’t appropriate, I’m labelled as one of those “hysterical feminists” or a “party pooper”. s/ Sorry if your antisemitic joke isn’t making me laugh, my “dear” colleague... /s I hate whenever people infantilize me, especially my mom. She’s still keeping an eye on my bank account, despite me telling her that I didn’t want her to do so again and again. I don’t dare to block her out, because I’m scared of her emotional reaction. I hate the ugliest parts of fandom, notably the obsession with “who’s topping / who’s bottoming” whenever there’s a gay pairing or the racism / ableism / transphobia / homophobia I’ve witnessed again and again.

I don’t dare to engage in the Last of Us 2 fandom because of that and the way some people describe the character of Abby (a very muscular woman), focusing on her physical appearance and calling her awful names (being downright transphobic when they thought that she was the transgender character that Naughty Dog announced there would be in their game).

✨ what’s your favorite “dere” type?

I had to google it, because aside from Yandere and Tsundere, I didn’t know a thing about it. I guess you could say I’m a Dandere (someone who is quiet and asocial. They are afraid to talk, fearing that what they say will get them in trouble.).

My favorite type is Kuudere though, when it comes to anime in particular (someone who is calm and collected on the outside, and never panics. They show little emotion, and in extreme cases are completely emotionless, but may be hiding their true emotions. They tend to be leaders who are always in charge of a situation.).

My favorite anime character, Kiyotaka Ayanokōji from the anime Classroom of the elite, is the most extreme case I can think about. He’s completely expressionless for most of the anime, talks with a very dull voice and it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking about at all times or what’s his overall plan. His hidden depth makes him all the more fascinating. He managed to keep me interested in a mostly meh anime.

✨ rate your life 1-10. 1 being really crappy and 10 being the best you could ever be.

It’s a bit hard, but somewhere around 5 or 6? I went through tons of crap in my life but I’m still here and able to live on my own, even if my quality of life isn’t all that good. I live with nearly daily suicidal thoughts since I was a teenager and have to compose with my meltdowns and anxiety attacks as well. I feel “other” most of the time and I can’t relate to most people I’m meeting and interacting with, which can sometimes feel very lonely.

On the other hand, I have wonderful friends who are willing to put up with my trauma crap and are overall amazing to talk to and be around. I have a cat I love dearly. They’re the reason why I’m still alive to this day, giving me a reason to say fuck off to my suicidal thoughts.

✨ what’s your main blog?

My main blog is Ladyautie and is about autism. I have another blog, reddie-4-more, focusing on the It movies and Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier.

✨ is there anything you think people need to know about you before becoming friends with you?

So, uh, don’t be weirded out by the kind of things I can tell you about my past. Even if it seems a lot, all of it is definitely true.

For example, I was almost kidnapped when I was around 8 or 9 by a random guy, while I was camping with my father.

My father and my paternal grandmother actually kidnapped me and my brother when I was around two and I stayed with him until the social workers determined that my mother had to raise us again because our well-being and overall life were threatened.

Lots of events of my life seem far-fetched or out of a movie / a book or something and I had people telling me that I must be lying or that I’m over-exaggerating, something that always hurts deeply.

I’m terribly awkward and more or less openly autistic, so you’re definitely going to notice something different about me. I can’t change for you and I’m not willing to hide my traits only to make you feel more comfortable about frequenting me, so if you can’t handle my socially anxious and disabled ass, then just leave.

I need people to actually tell me what they think or feel. I’m very “first degree” and I’m pretty bad at guessing what people are thinking about. Don’t be afraid to be frank.

Finally, never, and I mean never, infantilize me. I’m a 26 years old woman. I’m not a kid.I’m fine with my friends offering to help or making sure that I’m okay or so, but never assume that I don’t understand something and don’t force your help on me if I say that I’m okay.

That’s it, those who want to take part in this exercise, don’t hesitate!

#tag game #not entirely autism related #suicide mention

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