#it's getting heavy nowadays so been super busy with that

[rose-of-oz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐄

❝ Mickey was not, and had never been, cut out to be a superhero. Born super-abled but only blessed (or cursed, depending on who you asked) with weak telekinesis that only allowed him to lift more than a heavy box when he was really stressed or pissed, he’d practically been laughed out of the room by Vought’s assessors when he’d made an attempt to join their ranks as a desperate, frankly pathetic twenty-something. But even after that humiliation, down on his luck and willing to do almost anything to achieve his childhood hope of being a hero and helping people, he’d trusted a pretty face who already worked for Vought, believing and following after her when she’d promised to find him an in with the company… and he’d wound up regretting it more than any other decision he’s made before or since.

After an attack that had left him suffering from night terrors, reluctant to trust anyone, and completely disillusioned with the superhero industry, Mickey had been lost and without a clue what to do next - until he had met Billy Butcher, a man with a similar festering grudge against supes who was assembling a team to wreak havoc on them. Still wanting to help people but now seeing a new way to do it - one that aligned more with the rage and desire for revenge that had been festering inside of him since that fateful night - Mickey had become a member of The Boys, spending his days and nights killing corrupt supes and, even better, forming connections and having fun with his newfound friends along the way.

The best part of those years by far, though, had been Billy. Though their relationship had started out as nothing more than a mutual fuck buddies agreement, and though they had certainly never put a label on what they were, Mickey knew more surely than he knew anything else that there had been genuine love there. He and Butcher had just understood each other, on an even deeper level than Mickey felt he had ever been known or known anyone else, and they had been broken in some of the same ways. Their relationship, whatever it had been, had been blood-soaked and so far from perfect, of course, but Mickey could never help but feel that, after everything, it had allowed both of them to put some of their broken pieces back together, even if just a little bit.

Not that any of that matters one fucking bit now. The Boys are no longer, having been disbanded for years, and Mickey hasn’t heard a word from any of the guys in just as long, barring one single burner phone text sent from Billy two years ago that he didn’t get to respond to and hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since. Nowadays, Mickey still suffers from night terrors and can’t stand the sight of nightclubs, but he tries to combat it by working ungodly hours at his small locksmith business, using his meagre powers to open things for people who have reasons he doesn’t ask about, and all the while trying to forget that Billy Butcher ever came into his life and praying that the hollow feeling that has been in his chest since they parted will go away on its own.

But, of course, not one goddamn thing in Mickey’s life has ever gone the way he’s wanted it, and just as quickly and violently as he came into Mickey’s life the first time, Butcher comes crashing back in, this time with a supremely awkward young man in tow and a member of the motherfucking Seven tied up in his trunk. Dragged right back into Billy’s vengeful escapades - though, who is he kidding, it wasn’t exactly kicking and screaming - Mickey finds himself reuniting with his old friends, making some new ones, uncovering a Vought conspiracy that might have involved the new kid’s former girlfriend being blown to chunks by a doped-up speedster… and maybe, just maybe, rekindling what he used to have with Billy, despite the fact that the other man doesn’t even seem to want to look him in the eye anymore.

Mickey’s starting to suspect that he might be a glutton for punishment. But maybe, if he can bring down Vought once and for all and genuinely help some people along the way (no, getting back together with Billy has nothing to do with it, shut the ever-loving fuck up, Frenchie), being a sucker for pain might just be worth it in the end. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic,

@artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand,

@ginnystilinski-reblogs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @oneirataxia-girl,

@arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @gabbysdawsons, @dancingsunflowers-ocs,

@eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @manyfandomocs, @ocappreciationtag. (Also tagging

@kingsmakers, @come-along-pond, and @nikosasaki.)

[black-arcana]

EPICA's SIMONE SIMONS Recruits ARCH ENEMY's ALISSA WHITE-GLUZ For 'Cradle To The Grave' Music Video

EPICA singer Simone Simons has shared the music video for the song "Cradle To The Grave" from her just-released debut solo album. "Vermillion", which was made available on August 23 via Nuclear Blast Records, is a collaboration with Simone's longtime musical partner Arjen Lucassen (AYREON).

The music video for "Cradle To The Grave" features a guest appearance by ARCH ENEMY's Alissa White-Gluz and can be seen below.

Simons and Lucassen comment: "'Cradle To The Grave' is about the universal experience of navigating life's ups and downs and the quest for meaning and purpose. It views the human condition as one of struggle and resilience, where despite efforts to build and achieve, there's an underlying acceptance that life is brief, finite and often cruel."

In a recent interview with El Cuartel Del Metal, Simons was asked how long she has been planning her debut solo project. Simone said: "Well, actively for, I guess, one and a half years, or one year even, with Arjen. We started, yeah, last year, I think springtime or so. But I talked to him about working together, I asked him if he wanted to work with me on my solo album already years ago, if he would be interested. And he was, but we were both just too busy. And last year, we also did the AYREON shows together; I was part of that. But already before those took place, we met up because he already started writing songs, and he always kind of wrote two, three songs and then I would come over to him to record vocals. And then a couple of months later he would have more songs. So it was not that all songs were there all at once. But we did it in a couple of sessions. And, yeah, EPICA was not touring a lot. And writing a new record for EPICA was kind of a little bit like at the end of the last vocal recordings for 'Vermillion'. EPICA was also in the studio, or writing camps, writing albums. So, for me, I guess this was the freest I could get my calendar, but I still had things going on. And in the past we were just touring too much. So the wish was always there, but not the time, also for Arjen because he's very busy as well. But now we were both motivated and had the time. The time was right now."

Regarding the first two singles from the LP, "Aeterna" and "In Love We Rust", Simone said: "Well, 'Aeterna' was the idea of Arjen to release as a first single track, because it is a little bit of a perfect blend of AYREON and EPICA; there's quite some similarities of both our music career, I guess. So it would be kind of a soft introduction to both our fans, to get warm with the project. But it's definitely not an indication of how the whole album sounds like; it's still very, very different. And 'In Love We Rust' is one of both Arjen and my favorite tracks of the album, and it's a beautiful ballad. Who doesn't like a ballad? And this month, there will be a third single, which will be a very heavy song. So I'm curious to see what people are gonna say about that. But all songs are brilliant and I like 'em all. They're like all babies in a way. But 'Aeterna', I felt a little bit sorry for Patric [Ullaeus] who did the video because it's a long song to do a video for. Nowadays singles are always three, max four minutes, and EPICA is always surpassing that, but, yeah, six minutes of supernovas, planets and many dresses. [Laughs]"

Simone and Arjen previously stated about "Aeterna": "'Aeterna' is the big, epic opener of the album and it comes with this amazing video too, directed by Patric Ullaeus. It definitely sounds the closest to EPICA and AYREON, blending powerful Latin lyrics with a touch of an oriental feel. We've tried to strike a balance between the mighty, bombastic sounds and the more atmospheric parts. Since it's the first track people will hear from this album, it's super important to us and we're really excited for people to hear it!

"'Aeterna' takes the point of view of a star about to go supernova to explore how everything in the universe is interconnected, like a cosmic web made from stardust. It deals our deep emotions, consciousness and other mysteries of life that science still can't fully explain. Essentially it's a reflection on our place in the vast universe and the connections that bind us together, as we're all, to quote Carl Sagan, 'made of starstuff.'"

About "In Love We Rust", Simone and Arjen said: "The video was filmed in just one take to keep it as pure and raw as possible. We opted to keep it in black and white so as not to distract from the song or the performance.

"'In Love We Rust' is quite different from our first single 'Aeterna', which shows how diverse this album is. This is one of our favorite songs. We hope you love this as much as we do."

For more than 20 years, ever since she was a teenager, Simons has been carving her own path as a woman within the world of metal. As a lead singer, icon, and role model for a whole generation of female metalheads, the EPICA lead singer remains one of the most prominent key figures in all things metal. After eight albums and countless global tours with her band, Simone Simons finally found the time to release her first solo album — a moment 15 years in the making. Her breathtaking debut "Vermillion" is a stunning feat chronicling her storied past as well as her rise to fame, and showcasing her many different influences ranging from prog rock to film scores to metal to electronic elements.

Of the timing for her eagerly awaited foray into the realms of a solo career, the Dutch singer says with a disarming grin: "EPICA has my priority and I always have the liberty to do other musical projects besides my career in EPICA. Yet I never had the time to dive into a project to this extent."

"Vermillion" track listing:

01. Aeterna 02. In Love We Rust 03. Cradle To The Grave (feat. Alissa White-Gluz) 04. Fight Or Flight 05. Weight Of My World 06. Vermillion Dreams 07. The Core 08. Dystopia 09. R.E.D. 10. Dark Night Of The Soul

[cabinofimagines]

what about Jason and Percy compete in a friendly competition to see who can decorate their cabin the best for the holidays or something? just them being festive in uuh competitive ways

A/N: Everything for my white boys -Danny

Warnings: None!

Words: 1,330

Highlights —(Platonic!Jason & Percy xGN!Reader)

It started as a joke.

Of course, you should know better than to make an off-handed comment to Jason and Percy and word it as a challenge, even if your words are dripping with satire.

You can't even remember what the conversation was about, but Jason and you were chatting about what other stuff he'd like to do now that he was at camp to increase his holiday cheer, and Percy slipped into the conversation like he always does.

"Why not put sets of Christmas lights in your cabin? I mean, your dad is the literal god of lightning, I think even he can appreciate that tradition."

"True, and you can even fly around and hang them where the other cabins don't get to reach!" You joke, then turn to Percy. "Are you decorating?"

"Oh yeah, Tyson's coming this year and I want to surprise the big guy."

"You guys should compete to see who gets to make the sickest decor," you yawn, looking ahead absently. "Gods know I would kill for some holiday entertainment right now..."

Jason sits upright in his place, looking at you like a puppy who's just been offered a bone. "That's a fun idea."

Percy snorts. "Sit your Roman ass down. I came back yesterday, and I do not want to spend the week competing with you."

"Why, 'cause you know you'd lose?"

Percy looks at him with annoyance. "I wouldn't lose."

"Romans are great at flashy decor, you know?"

"Greeks invented parties."

"Both of you are wrong," you state bemusedly, but even now you don't really feel like stopping them. "However, I am very bored now that Klaus has gone on strike, so by all means, do rip each other's heads off."

Percy looks back at you with a frown. "He's gone to what?"

"He's very sensitive about being called Santa nowadays, maybe it's a racist slur, did you ever think of that?"

Jason interrupts your talk. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat but I have a cabin to decor and a reputation to maintain, so..."

"You know most people call your reputation just 'heavy OCD', right?" Percy taunts him.

"I'm making your cabin look like the dumpster where all unwanted toys go to die," Jason replies casually as he walks away.

You whistle lowly, patting Percy's shoulder as you both watch Jason walk away. "That was very psycho of him."

"Yeah," Percy's eyes never leave Jason as he speaks, a clear frown on his face. "Well then, I guess it's war."

"Percy, if you don't want to don't let him—"

"He's going down," he states with emphasis, getting up and storming out in the direction of the Hermes Cabin.

Jason recruits Leo almost right away, which you'd consider unfair if this were a real competition, which is not, so Jason is just being smart.

You end up agreeing to help Percy because Annabeth is busy decorating the rest of camp, and she probably doesn't want to encourage these two to be dorks any more than is healthy.

Is it as fun as you were expecting? Kind of. Percy has lots of tasty snacks that he doesn't have an issue sharing with you, and he's also very fun to talk to, though sometimes he gets super pressed about the decoration process and you have to keep your distance.

Jason isn't any better, he flies around hanging all kinds of weird lights Leo made in his spare time—this guy hasn't slept an entire night since he was probably eight years old—and every day he shows up with a brighter, flashier install for the cabin.

"Not that I'm complaining," Leo tells you as he takes a moment from rewiring an old Santa robot he found in the bunker. "But why did you edge them to do this? Feels like a gender-bent version of that one scene in the Grinch movie."

You shrug and take a bite of your gingerbread cookie. "I was bored, and Jason's really easy to manipulate."

"Hmm."

"In my defense, I was joking, but he'd been trying to find ways to turn something else into a competition since I made him and Thalia make their own version of hot chocolate to see which one was better."

"Why did you do that?"

"Because I wanted free hot chocolate."

"Hmm," he repeats, this time nodding. "You think that if I taunt him enough he'll bake me a gingerbread house with marshmallows on top?"

"I think that if we taunt Jason enough, we can get him to dress up as Santa and deliver presents to everyone in New Rome overnight."

"Yeah," Leo smiles at his friend, still hanging up lights around the windows of his cabin. "Maybe we should gift him a therapy session once this is over."

The day came to turn on the lights in Cabin One and Three, lots of curious campers had gathered to witness the final results of Jason and Percy's arduous job during the last five days.

There is a sudden burst of light and noise from each cabin the moment the lights go on, they're both impressive and creative in their own ways, sticking to the original vibes of each cabin—Jason even summoned a tiny cloud above the cabin so it would be snowing every few hours to keep it white and fancy.

Percy, on the other hand, had made a Christmas tree out of seashells, seaweed, and moss. It was weirdly cute. Both cabins were strong competitors, but then a third blast of light joined theirs, and everyone's eyes turned to Hades's Cabin.

Nico walked forward with a proud smile, surrounded by at least a dozen skeletons dressed up as elves. Hazel was there too, looking very proud, but then the last member of their team was the one who gave you shivers: Klaus. That whimsical jerk really knew how to decorate a cabin.

Percy's mouth fell open as he saw the cabin. "How? I never saw you decorate!"

"Hazel's mist," Nico smirks, placing an arm around his sister's shoulders. "Kept you out of our business until we were ready to show you how it's really done."

Jason's the one who looks the most outraged. "That's not cool, guys! If you were going to participate, you should've let us know first!"

Nico raises a brow. "Jason, this wasn't even a real competition, you're both insane—and that's coming from the guy who dresses up skeletons as Santa's elves."

You hush him hurriedly. "Don't say that, Nico, we don't know if it's a slur!"

Nico frowns. "Santa's not a slur."

"But it pisses off Klaus so much..."

"What pisses me off is that you have no respect for tradition, Y/N L/N," Klaus replies dramatically, squinting at you. "All of you, abusing sweet traditions just to feed your egos or keep you entertained, you should feel ashamed of yourselves."

"Who are you, the Lorax of Christmas?" Leo snorts.

Jason elbows the boy and steps forward. "C'mon Klaus, don't be angry—we were having fun either way, right Percy?"

You elbow Percy and he chokes out a reply. "For sure, yeah! Climbing around the rooftop sticking lights to the smoothest surfaces on earth... great fun."

You sigh. "Listen, Klaus, we're sorry we offended you, okay? Nico is right, maybe we are a little bit insane. Can you forgive us?"

Klaus glances at you hesitantly, he seems unsure. "I'll think about it."

"Well, we still won anyway," Nico grins. "You can come down now, Will!"

To everyone's surprise, something moves around the rooftop of Nico's cabin and Will soon gets spotted, dressed up in a star costume, his skin glowing like he swallowed ten yellow lightbulbs for lunch. "Thank gods, I'm so hungry!"

You laugh, watching as Nico and his skeletons help Will to come down safely.

"Well, sorry you didn't win," you muse, giving Percy harsh pats on the back. "Next time I'll go to Nico, I should've known he's an expert at killing boredom."

[catholic-saint-tournament]

I was raised Protestant so I don’t have any background knowledge here but I’ve always been SUPER curious about the saints and how it all works, no obligation to explain don’t worry about it, but I’m finding this tournament very interesting and a bit educating. Like I didn’t know about the whole “pre-saint” thing (can’t remember the word well enough to spell it) like the church or whoever designating that someone will become a saint once they die if I’m understanding that right from the context clues I haven’t googled things yet for further research.

OK! Happy to help! The professor in me won't let this ask go unanswered.

There are two kinds of saints. Capital S saints are people who the Church has declared are in heaven/with God because of a) exemplary, holy lives they've led, and b) signs of miracles (often medical ones) where people pray for their intercession. Little 's' saints is anyone and everyone in heaven. So, in theory, your grandparents, great grandparents, etc.

Big S, canonized saints, is what this tourney's all about. What Catholics believe: when people go to heaven and they are with God, they are literally closer to God than we are. When Catholics pray (talk) to saints, NOT WORSHIPPING, that is reserved for God and God alone, they're asking for help. Worship = praise, love, adoration, service, acknowledging power/glory/majesty. Praying to/talking to - let's have a chat.

Think of it this way: have you ever asked a friend to help you move? You've got a super heavy package and need help taking it from point A to B. Technically, you can do it all by yourself, but you can get a friend to help you, or several! Catholics ask these saints, or friends, to help with prayer requests.

We believe that the saints can hear us when we pray to them, and will help us. They want to help us! You'd help a friend in need, yes? This is what the saints are for all of us. Friends! Free friendship for free help with God! What a fabulous deal!

The pre-saint business comes with beatification. When a holy person dies, there's a five year waiting period before their cause can be opened for canonization. In the past, 3 miracles were needed, but now only two are needed for canonization.

The process goes like this - person dies, wait 5 years, go through investigation to make sure the person was actually a good person. Martyrs go straight to Blessed stage (2nd to last before Saint). Venerables are non-martyrs but still super cool holy people. They need at least two miracles. Martyrs need one.

In the past, incorruptibles were considered miraculous, e.g. people whose bodies mysteriously/miraculously don't decay after death. Nowadays it's not considered good enough for a miracle because burial conditions can impact this and it's hard to verify. I mean, people still go apeshit over incorruptibles (I do) but it's not enough to be a miracle.

What IS a miracle: very commonly it's medical miracles. Tumors that disappear overnight. Diseases that disappear. Things doctors said couldn't happen and then they do happen.

The Vatican hears thousands of cases a year, they have a team of medical professionals, and most of the miracles don't qualify as miraculous. They're REALLY rare. For a lot of saints, it can take hundreds of years to go from one step to the next because the professionals try to prove that there was no medical reason why something would disappear or be healed.

The miracles, combined with holiness, 'prove' that these people are truly with God because God has worked through them to produce a miracle. The miracle is not the saint's doing, per se, but rather God working through the saint. We thank the saint for 'bothering' God enough to hear our prayers.

Again, you can go to God directly, but imagine if you had a ton of friends bugging God about the same thing. The persistent widow of Scripture comes to mind, or all the prophets' bothering God in the Hebrew Scriptures. The more friends you have bothering God, the better off you are.

This is why Catholics, in particular, are SO fond of Mary. She is the mother of Jesus, the mother of God, and what's Jesus going to do? Ignore his mother? Hell no. He's going to pay attention, and maybe it doesn't always work (Mary's a busy lady with all our prayers) but she listens and intercedes for us.

This is why saints are so rad. They're normal folks like you and me who led exemplary lives across so many circumstances and are now enjoying the splendor of heaven.

I'm personally gunning for little 's' saint. I doubt I'll be cool enough to be a canonized saint, and that's ok by me!

[aechteaseawb]

chapter one grjr hiding from the rain

//

Rainy season in Shugoddom tends to come fast, unpredictable, and absolutely disastrous if you want to get any sort of laundry done- down comes the storm without warning, and within seconds whatever is hanging on that clothesline outside will be soaked through, reduced to a complete waste of time, effort, and detergent.

Not that laundry is something Gira has to worry about nowadays, being on the run from the government and all, but old habits die hard. Those are the thoughts that pass through Gira’s head as he undoes the clasps on his boots to pull them off for dry.

He stretches his drenched toes. The wet socks are killing him. He peels them off as well, and throws them across the backrest of one of the seats in the back row.

“I used to listen to plays here, you know?” Jeramie sighs, where he is perched on just the edge of the stage.

This theater has been abandoned for as long as Gira can remember, but the askew stage lights still work, almost, blinking down dimly now on the dusty wooden floor.

“‘Listen to plays’?” Gira asks. “Shouldn’t it be ‘watch’?”

Jeramie shakes his head. “Listen to,” he says again. “I couldn’t buy tickets like a normal audience member without scaring some poor guy manning the ticket booth, you know, what with the mask and all, so I made my own seat up there.” He points up at the highest support beams, right under the roof. “In fact, I bet you can still find my old hammock up there.”

Gira squints his eyes. He can’t see Jeramie’s old hammock, but he thinks he’s probably right. Even when the theater was back in business, who could clean spiderwebs that high up?

“Your webs sure are convenient!” he says. “Do you think you can make a clothesline so I can hang my clothes?”

“Of course.”

He shoots out a strand of silk that sticks to the wall at the back of the theater.

“Thank you!” Gira quickly wrestles off his tangled, sticky shirt. He squeezes out as much water as he can manage, before flinging it over the silk. The silk is much firmer than he thought! “Jeramie, aren’t you going to take your clothes off, too?” He asks as he pulls out his braid. “You’re going to catch a cold with wet clothes on you, you know?”

“Well, now…” Jeramie blinks. “Thank you for your concern, but it’s really not necessary. Bugnarak have much stronger immune systems than humans. I’ll be fine.”

Gira frowns. “You’re still half-human, though? And besides, it can’t be comfortable wearing all that wet. It’s probably super heavy too.”

“It’s not that bad,” says his friend, which has got to be a lie. Nobody would willingly keep wet socks on their feet!

Then it dawns on him.

“If it’s because I’m here then I’m really sorry!” Gira says. “I’ll turn around if it makes you feel better!” He quickly spins around. “I mean, I can’t really go anywhere because of the rain, but I hope this is enough privacy. I won’t peek, I promise! But I really don’t want you to get sick, so.”

From behind him, Gira hears the faint sound of Jeramie chuckling. Then, the rustle of fabric. He smiles, and asks, loudly, “How long do you think the rain’s going to last, Jeramie?”

[bmpmp3]

speaking of internet horror its interesting seeing the different communities and formats that have gone in and out of vogue

like its probably obvious from my age and the everything about me that i grew up with primarily text and image based creepypastas (although some were more multimedia with videos or even ARG elements) when i was in elementary and middle school, and that i was huge into nosleep (which tend to be almost exclusively text, although one of two might've had a picture accompanying it, and I still think that one that about the pop song where they had a little clip of it was pretty fun LOL ~but he took your~ [synth riff] still gets stuck in my head sometimes) from highschool to......to be honest until reddit imploded this year o7

ive been mostly in the forum-y blog-y text heavy horror unfiction sphere, but there was also the early youtube horror webserieses, they often went a little into ARG elements too (which i personally have never been a fan of I think just because im too lazy to decode all these things LOL) but that shifted into our more modern analog horror videos we got now

im not super familiar with the analog horror and webseries stuff tbh, i love movies and short films but i have trouble watching shows and serialized videos nowadays LOL BUT i do really like those laceygames videos, and all the things inspired by it: like these little animations about some made-up flash game thats scary or weird SO GOOD so awesome those are fun

although sometimes the animation videos of made-up video games.....sometimes i wish it was a real thing hJKHJFDS petscop was interesting and this is absolutely not what i should have taken from it but it did make me want a puzzle game where i befriend weird pets HJFKDSLHFJDJN no fault of its own i just like weird old simulation puzzle games

right now it feels like things are a little more on the multimedia video end of things in terms of popularity, but webpage and text/image based stuff will always be around doing god knows <3 does anyone remember that one webtoon. like the really early webtoon like lowercase w webtoon korean webcomic. the one that jumpscares you. bongcheon dong ghost <3 <3 <3 still too scared to reread it <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

im busy ignoring my school assignments rn so thats why im aimlessly typing about internet horror but as someone who does prefer reading stuff on the internet over video i would love to see more text and image based horror communities pop up again a la creepypasta wikis and nosleep (which is still alive its just you know. hard to use reddit without my beloved RIF ;-; rest in peace rif is fun you beautiful beautiful app), i think theres still lots u can do with the wonderful static text and image. the beautiful animation and video-less webpage. i dunno i think the future of internet horror is bright and interesting!! there is a world out there to be scary <3

[arqdyke]

omg okay hardcore 👀👀👀👀 at a lot of these. we are 🤝 with the author-that-is-obviously-knowledgable-about-niche-topic and the historical fic tooooo. i just love learning so when reading a fic teaches me things about the real world it instantly gets elevated in my mind.

modern au is also such a big one for me. i love to pluck blorbos out of sticky canon situations and put them in domestic fluff goodness because they deserve nice things <3 i used to be so big on angst but i think nowadays my form of escapism is reading about others having a good time. i also don't like miscommunication and feel that's a good 2/3 of "angst" or "hurt/comfort" labeled fix these days so. ehhh. not for me

maybe it is the allure of things that don't apply to me but i also love a good social media fic if done right. anything super "modern" like youtuber or insta/influencer is also appealing but there's so many of those that it really has to be a good concept for me to follow.

truthfully i will bite at anything in the acesabo tag like at least give it a chapter one chance. but there's so many on ao3 now that if i don't vibe with the writing style or the concept then i don't feel bad for moving on. plenty of fish in the sea or whatever. crazy how much fic there is for this ship nowadays actually.

YOURE SO REALLLL AND TRUE!! sorry ive been busy so i just saw this. hi. fellow hater of miscommunication. very based opinions. a social media fic has to be Just right for it to hit for me but i do think they can be fun. i have an op au with a heavy focus on media spotlight & fandom in a few different ways actually! and its rlly fun imo! but its for... my niche no hit wonder rarepair that there isnt a single fic in the tag for. but yeah i get you.

there are a few ships ill read pretty much anything in the tag for & ive scoured the acesabo a fair share of times myself.. but i got into one piece pretty recently so i havent actually read all that much in the grand scheme of things. ill give pretty much any fic a chance if theres something that catches my attention. notable examples including reading like.. soooo many of some truly horrible grammar out of character not my cup of tea concept fics. but you know. its fun. i like to give stuff a chance even if im pretty sure i wont like it. its fun to be more picky sometimes tho.

[gisellevgonzalez]

6 months later...

It's been 6 months since I posted my last blog. I just finished reading it... the last part says that I hope I can read this a year from now and that I am happy. Well... it's been 6 months and though a few things have changed, not much has also changed. And I am still in the same mental and spiritual drought that I have a hard time getting or seeing my way out of. Some days are better than others- brighter, where I find myself laughing and enjoying living in the moment. But other days I find heavy; like as of lately. It's heavy in the sense that I find myself in this fog again and nothing major has triggered it. It's usually the build up of small things until I crack. 

Well here's the update post 6 months. We have moved into our refurnished little home and it's cozy and we make it feel like home. Sometime's it does feel tight and having not much storage space can get to me a bit, but I try to have the feeling of thankfulness and my flexibility take priority to that. I started therapy in February and it's been going alright. I wouldn't say it has helped in major ways but I know it helps in the moment to talk to someone and learn about myself. And that's it. That's the only thing different. Work is still work. Church is still the same. Family is still the same. Stressors are still the same. And I am still the same. And honestly the rest are okay- it's out of my control and I accept that. But what bothers me the most is that I am still the same. Which stings because it may or may not be true but I can't tell. Maybe I am growing through all this. But my struggles emotionally, mentally, emotionally, spiritually are still a battle I fight on and off. I came to the enlightenment a few months ago that me and my family are going through spiritual warfare and I try to be aware of that and that God is fighting our battle for us, but at the same time I don't have much fight left in me which is why I am not doing much to change what is going on internally. I feel burnt out and I have for a while. Being where I am today make's me feel like I'm stuck. Like I can't move and everyone else is moving ahead of me and I am watching people while I live the same day over and over. But I know there are millions of people who probably feel the same way. But most of those people haven't surrendered their life to Jesus. And surrendering your life and desires to God while feeling stuck leaves me with a feeling like I've been punched in the stomach and I'm hunched over and can't get up. I wasn't knocked out because I know that couldn't knock me out but I am also having a hard time catching my breath. So what am I to do when I've been told to remain and not move? They say that it's in the waiting season where you have to do all the work but I'm tired most of the time so then I use that time trying to dissociate. My therapist knows about this and she tries to encourage me to find hobbies or things that are mindless but also productive. I am aware of that and try sometimes but not always. And most times I beat myself up about it.

The other thing that has really gotten to me is the feeling of loneliness. And I had to really sit through this and analyze if I'm lonely for a romantic love- which it is that, but also so much more. I have no community here. I have 2 friends and one of them I'm not super close with and the other one has a boyfriend and family and just her life. The other part is that I don't have much family nearby. I don't have siblings I can do life with. I don't have church friends. I don't even have co-workers I can talk to on a daily basis. It's mostly just my clients and my parents. And this weekend I craved hanging out with friends or a boyfriend or just people and having a life but instead I came home and stayed in my room. Saturday my mom took me to the beach which was nice. And I know part of it is me putting in the effort which sometimes I do but everyone is so busy nowadays that you try to hang out with someone and their next available slot is in 1 or 2 months. My therapist told me to get plugged into activities or just find a way to build community. Which she is so right. But my introvert side of me is screaming, dreading to put in that much effort for strangers and hopes of making friends, or even finding the time, when I'd rather spend my free time working out, resting, and catching up with what I need to do or even with friends I already have. So here I am back in this endless cycle that I have put myself in. How do I make it stop when I can't even move? And don't get me started how my automatic coping mechanism is isolating myself. We wont go there tonight... So 6 months ago I said to God that in 6 months he needs to do something: a change, something new. And if he doesn’t then I will. But the thing is I don't want to act in disobedience but I can't tell if I have permission to move but I don't see the signs, open doors, or word. So I'm still here. waiting. I'll check in later.

[mccnliight]

;-- this week had been so busy i completely forgot to do the thing i said i was going to do kek

[you-cant-fuck-megaman]

one thing that i've always found kind of interesting about dr. light's design is his hair.

from original incarnations

to recent incarnations

to mega man x

the dude straight-up rocks a pomp. inafune said he based doctor light’s design off santa claus, which i can understand, but last i checked santa claus had a cool hat covering his hair, not a goddamn biker ‘do

and it's funny, because in-game he's generally pretty straight-laced and serious. he's the Dad. he's megaman's dad. the kind of father figure he is depends on whether it's the archie comics (navigator/moral support), fully charged (invested in his son's life), ruby spears (addled), the classic games (non-existent), or the X games (not existent), but generally he acts as the caring father figure overseeing megaman and trying to cheer him along.

but what does capcom think of him?

ライト博士のコンセプトはひとことで言うと「父性」ですね. / Dr. Light's concept could be summed up in a single word as "father". 優しくて大らかで、でも時には厳しさも見せる、ロックマンの生みの親であリ、ロボツト社会の父です。 / He's the creator of both Megaman and modern roboticism, and is quite a kind and generous man, but he has a rougher side to him... (My japanese is not professional, please take this translation with a grain of salt)

pardon?

that light has a rougher/harsher side is honestly surprising, considering you can count the amount of times he's been genuinely angry on-screen on a single hand. he's one of the most successful and revolutionary men of 20XX and still manages to be chill a f, always coming up with an answer for even the most out-there situations.

but that would explain the delinquent hairstyle.

so, what do we actually know about light? - he attended class with Wily and shot down Wily's double gear thing - depending on the translation, they either worked together as a team (english) or were only colleagues (japanese) or were cooperative rivals (megamix) - the dude's biggest school accomplishments are winning the LIT Manual Design contest four years in a row, and a World Engineer First Prize, both tasks focusing on technical prowess rather than strictly academic prowess - that said, he has a Nobel Prize in physics so fuck me i guess - nowadays he works as a professor at the Mecha-Chuchets Institute of Robology - despite that, he likes keeping his hands busy, since he's got a side hustle as a contracted roboticist for O.D.A. Electronics - it's something that he actively enjoys and wants to keep doing for the fun of it, since in exchange O.D.A. provides electronic parts to him, rather than silly things like "a paycheck" - he REALLY likes keeping his hands busy, since he also provides technology to Nakaume Heavy Machinery and Tsubakuro Precision Machining - the dude super-believes in peace and justice - he hates fighting and hated giving rock a weapon to turn him into megaman - despite this, he knows martial arts, since he teaches X the Hadouken and Shoryuken. this is questionable in canonicity but i'm going somewhere with this, trust me - according to his diary, he likes playing fighting games to unwind. - he likes to smoke (don't smoke, kids) - he likes rock and roll, as in the music genre. though i guess he likes rock and roll the characters as well. i guess. - generally he's kind of a music fan. - he's an optimist and generally tries to believe the best in others, that people can change and evil can be redeemed - he's transhumanist before capcom knew what that word meant, and worked towards a dream world where humans and sentient robots can live side by side in harmony

if there's a hard side to him, we've rarely seen it so my brain decides to start taking several jumps, right? what if the bitterness lies in his history? we don't actually know much about light's history.

the pompadour and love of rock bring to mind a very specific kind of image, that of the greaser from the 1950s. rebels without a cause, delinquent teenagers causing problems and getting into trouble. coincidentally enough, it's a style that the franchise has flirted before, with hideki ishikawa's art of roll and rock dressed up in old americana fashion, with rock sporting a greaser pomp.

but where would he have gotten that from?

let's delve completely into the realm of headcanon. what if light wasn't the most upstanding youth? the fact that he actively enjoys working with his hands and pursues mostly the physical aspects of engineering rather than the academic aspects seems to be the most telltale part of this angle. it's quite possible that he simply didn't do well at academic pursuits.

struggled at school. wore a leather jacket. smoked. hung around at arcades. listened to rock n' roll. played with hearts. probably broke some hearts, too. given his extremely pained stance on violence now, it's possible he very much saw the effects of violence first-hand in his youth. got into brawls, started fights. probably got into real bad fights. maybe ended them too. but Something Happened along the way. something that made him change course. and so, light started cleaning up his life. started learning and practicing martial arts to focus, to become one with himself. went to a technical school to start working with his hands, and managed to pick things back up and get his life back on track. he was in a dark place, but he managed to change, and so he knows first hand that people can change. that good lies in people. and that he knows even the most seedy of people have the potential to change and to become great. and a good decade or two later, that throwaway good-for-nothing delinquent starts excelling in this new field. something that lets him get his hands filthy and to make things--make PHYSICAL things. things that have an impact. and a good several decades after that, he's finally advanced enough in his skills that he wants to make someone he can be close to. someone he can love. someone he can call family. i notice rock and roll aren't super-curious about their metaphorical grandparents.

probably not important, have a rough sketch i did instead:

[cutiecorner]

Bunny Book

Ficlet• agere • Regressor! Bruce Wayne, Caregiver! Alfred Pennyworth

ALRIGHT Y'ALL..... A SUPER SHORT LITTLE DRABBLE BUT A DRABBLE NONETHELESS! Had to get a dadfred & babybat fic out there somehow, seems 2 am inspiration was the way lol. Enjoy!!!

Alfred liked to busy himself late into the night. Well, he didn't really like it, but he preferred it to the alternative. He knows if he doesn't futz with something he'd be down in the cave all night, listlessly pacing, endlessly worrying. One would think he'd get used to it after so many years, that he'd grow comfortable with his son's nightly activities. They would be wrong.

So Alfred dusted the curtains. They tended to accumulate dust, given they're rarely moved from their closed position. If it weren't for his own fussing Alfred doubted anything in the manor proper would be moved. He knew his son, and he knew that the niceties of his public persona were lost on Bruce if not explained. He knew Bruce saw his life as another job. The day shift before the night shift.

Always on the clock, Alfred mused. He shook his head - pot and kettle and all that rot. More like apple and tree if he thought about it.

Son, son, son - he tossed the term around compulsively tonight. In the privacy of his own mind he allowed himself the kindness, but wished it were applied in lighter circumstances. They had reached the magic hour that seemed to add weight to Alfred's already heavy heart - it had been too long. Bruce should definitely have been back already. The case tonight was a gruesome one, and late hours on such an assignment was never a good sign.

Alfred stopped dusting. It had barely helped anyway, the mindless movement of his wrist not really achieving anything in the end. He was too lost in thought to put any weight behind it. He let out a deep sigh, listening to the creaks and groans of the old manor, trying to find comfort in it's heartbeat.

The steady thrum was interrupted. He wouldn't have noticed if he had been doing anything else, but the distant squeak of old wood caught his attention. Alfred carefully padded down the hallway, a fire pick in his hand just in case. The squeaking continued, and Alfred found that he recognized it. With more purpose now, he headed toward a particular room down the hall.

If the night had continued as it was, he would've gotten to the room at some point. Around 5 am Alfred's nerves would reach a peak, and he'd always find himself in the nursery. He rarely bothered to clean. He'd be far too worn, far too worried. He'd gently sit on the bed as if young Bruce were still tucked into it. He'd feel the faded velvet of Bruce's old toys, and they'd keep him company.

Tonight, it seemed someone beat him to it.

The source of the squeaking was an old rocking chair. A sturdy creation, but age had worn it down. The painted flowers and the white undercoat faded into the grain, a memory of how it once was. Alfred watched as it swayed back and forth, pushed by an idle hand on it's base.

Bruce had come back, at some point. Alfred couldn't find the energy to chide himself about missing his entrance, but it didn't look like he'd entered through the traditional means. The window to the nursery was open. A good portion of the suit was discarded - cape, cowl, top, belt. They were ripped and tattered, dirty red stains patterning each tear. The Batman had been discarded for the night.

Bruce was sitting in front of his shelf. It was brimming with books, but not the kind Bruce read nowadays. Fairy tales and Nursery Rhymes, the Hardy Boys, picture books. Stories he hadn't looked at in years. One was distinctly missing from the shelf. One of Bruce's hands idly gripped the rocking chair, pulling it back and forth, matching it's motion with his own body. His other hand fiddled with a page of Peter Rabbit. Alfred could hear his quiet mumbles, familiar words that fell out of his mouth without trying.

Alfred tried his best to stay in the doorway. It was rare, to say the least, to see Bruce self soothing in any capacity. He would barely take care of his most basic physical needs, let alone abstract emotional ones like comfort. But tonight he had taken a step. A detour from the batcave into a place he felt safe. It meant a lot. Alfred didn't want to ruin it.

But then another sound broke through the hum, a growl from Bruce's undoubtedly neglected stomach. Bruce had no will left to keep a strong face, a whine escaping him as he curled into himself further. Alfred simply couldn't help himself.

"Some late night reading, little one?" Try as he might he couldn't greet his son without a bit of a jeer. It was a love language. Bruce looked startled by Alfred's arrival, yet another sign to his off kilter state. Alfred was quick to soothe him, gently sitting next to his boy as he rubbed circles on his back.

"Shhh, shh, it's okay. I'm here." He couldn't help but coo.

"It sounds like you could use a proper meal after tonight. How about we head to the kitchen so I can fix something up for you. Then when you're all done I'd love to finish up Peter Rabbit for you, if you'd let me. How does that sound?"

Bruce didn't respond. He looked around, seemingly for an answer, but met Alfred's gaze with nothing. The butler adjusted his approach.

"Supper, then I'll read your bunny book. Hm?" He spoke slowly and deliberately, presenting the book as an aid. It seemed to get through to Bruce, who nodded and let his head fall to his father's shoulder.

"buby book…"

[black-arcana]

EPICA's SIMONE SIMONS Explains Why The Time Is 'Right' For Her To Release Her Debut Solo Album

In a new interview with El Cuartel Del Metal, EPICA singer Simone Simons discussed her upcoming debut solo album, "Vermillion", on which she collaborated with her longtime musical partner Arjen Lucassen (AYREON). Asked how long she has been planning the project, Simone said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "Well, actively for, I guess, one and a half years, or one year even, with Arjen. We started, yeah, last year, I think springtime or so. But I talked to him about working together, I asked him if he wanted to work with me on my solo album already years ago, if he would be interested. And he was, but we were both just too busy. And last year, we also did the AYREON shows together; I was part of that. But already before those took place, we met up because he already started writing songs, and he always kind of wrote two, three songs and then I would come over to him to record vocals. And then a couple of months later he would have more songs. So it was not that all songs were there all at once. But we did it in a couple of sessions. And, yeah, EPICA was not touring a lot. And writing a new record for EPICA was kind of a little bit like at the end of the last vocal recordings for 'Vermillion'. EPICA was also in the studio, or writing camps, writing albums. So, for me, I guess this was the freest I could get my calendar, but I still had things going on. And in the past we were just touring too much. So the wish was always there, but not the time, also for Arjen because he's very busy as well. But now we were both motivated and had the time. The time was right now."

Regarding the first two singles from the LP, "Aeterna" and "In Love We Rust", Simone said: "Well, 'Aeterna' was the idea of Arjen to release as a first single track, because it is a little bit of a perfect blend of AYREON and EPICA; there's quite some similarities of both our music career, I guess. So it would be kind of a soft introduction to both our fans, to get warm with the project. But it's definitely not an indication of how the whole album sounds like; it's still very, very different. And 'In Love We Rust' is one of both Arjen and my favorite tracks of the album, and it's a beautiful ballad. Who doesn't like a ballad? And this month, there will be a third single, which will be a very heavy song. So I'm curious to see what people are gonna say about that. But all songs are brilliant and I like 'em all. They're like all babies in a way. But 'Aeterna', I felt a little bit sorry for Patric [Ullaeus] who did the video because it's a long song to do a video for. Nowadays singles are always three, max four minutes, and EPICA is always surpassing that, but, yeah, six minutes of supernovas, planets and many dresses. [Laughs]"

Arjen is no stranger to Simone's soaring operatic voice, one that can stir even a gargoyle's stone heart to tears. Together they have crafted a sonic universe that befits the influential figure she is. Due on August 23 via Nuclear Blast Records, "Vermillion" emerges as a gargantuan goose-bump generator, a universally touching, stellar tour de force.

Simone and Arjen previously stated about "Aeterna": "'Aeterna' is the big, epic opener of the album and it comes with this amazing video too, directed by Patric Ullaeus. It definitely sounds the closest to EPICA and AYREON, blending powerful Latin lyrics with a touch of an oriental feel. We've tried to strike a balance between the mighty, bombastic sounds and the more atmospheric parts. Since it's the first track people will hear from this album, it's super important to us and we're really excited for people to hear it!

"'Aeterna' takes the point of view of a star about to go supernova to explore how everything in the universe is interconnected, like a cosmic web made from stardust. It deals our deep emotions, consciousness and other mysteries of life that science still can't fully explain. Essentially it's a reflection on our place in the vast universe and the connections that bind us together, as we're all, to quote Carl Sagan, 'made of starstuff.'"

About "In Love We Rust", Simone and Arjen said: "The video was filmed in just one take to keep it as pure and raw as possible. We opted to keep it in black and white so as not to distract from the song or the performance.

"'In Love We Rust' is quite different from our first single 'Aeterna', which shows how diverse this album is. This is one of our favorite songs. We hope you love this as much as we do."

For more than 20 years, ever since she was a teenager, Simons has been carving her own path as a woman within the world of metal. As a lead singer, icon, and role model for a whole generation of female metalheads, the EPICA lead singer remains one of the most prominent key figures in all things metal. After eight albums and countless global tours with her band, Simone Simons finally found the time to release her first solo album — a moment 15 years in the making. Her breathtaking debut "Vermillion" is a stunning feat chronicling her storied past as well as her rise to fame, and showcasing her many different influences ranging from prog rock to film scores to metal to electronic elements.

Of the timing for her eagerly awaited foray into the realms of a solo career, the Dutch singer says with a disarming grin: "EPICA has my priority and I always have the liberty to do other musical projects besides my career in EPICA. Yet I never had the time to dive into a project to this extent."

"Vermillion" track listing:

01. Aeterna 02. In Love We Rust 03. Cradle To The Grave (feat. Alissa White-Gluz) 04. Fight Or Flight 05. Weight Of My World 06. Vermillion Dreams 07. The Core 08. Dystopia 09. R.E.D. 10. Dark Night Of The Soul

[uwurakax]

story of us ♡

pairing: atsumu x f!reader ♡

genre: angst // exes // mutual pining ♡

summary: at an inarizaki volleyball club reunion, you have the unfortunate displeasure of meeting your ex. you swore you’d be fine, you got over him years ago right? ♡

word count: 2k ♡

author’s note: sort of proofread hahwbaha - also not super angsty but yanno haha. been into writing again hehe ♡

♡ (inspired by the story of us by taylor swift) ♡

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t worry! I’ll see you tonight okay?”

It was only for one night, you could survive a few hours right? You sure hoped so. You quickly hung up on Suna, praying that he didn’t hear the waver in your voice. You were sure if you didn’t end the call when you did, he’d have had you figured out.

It’s not like you were dreading this, you had prepared for this night, it was inevitable; it had been planned for months. Were you honestly just kidding yourself? Probably, but you were certain that for just tonight you would be fine. It had been years since Miya Atsumu had broken your heart, and you wouldn’t let those feelings resurface. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t be sad or angry anymore.

“Tsumu.. what?”

“I just don’t think we should stay together after graduation you know?”

“But why?!”

“We’re both going in different directions and it just seems like the best thing for us. I’m sorry, I really am Y/N, good luck with everything”

It was awkward and ugly. You watched your first love walk away from you. Heavy tears cascaded down your face. Black eyeliner and mascara smudged from your fingers rubbing against your eyes in an attempted to stop them from watering even further. It sucked. Just a few moments ago you were celebrating finally being free of high school and going on with a new chapter in your life with your now ex boyfriend. Now you were here, with your eyes swollen and red, and your heart utterly shattered.

You never bothered with love after that.

You shook off the painful memory, deciding that it didn’t matter anymore. That was in the past, this was the present. Looking in the mirror to apply a gorgeous rogue lipstick you noticed your eyes start to slowly tear up. You supposed it didn’t matter how long ago it was, or how hard you desperately tried to forget.

Your heart would still hurt over it’s first holder.

You opted to go for a natural glam look - not something too much, but you wanted to look a little bit different than how you normally did on the daily. Part of you also wanted to show Atsumu just exactly what he let go. Was it petty? Sure, but you figured you earned it a little bit. With a classic little black dress, black strappy heels and red bag, you were ready to make your way to Onigiri Miya.

The Uber ride did little to ease your nerves. The closer you got to Osamu’s establishment, the closer you were to seeing him again. You honestly didn’t want to see Atsumu ever again, already rueful that you even agreed to come to the reunion. You guessed you owed it to the other members; you were the manager back in High School, and why should you let one jerk ruin seeing the friendly faces of the team again? Who knows when you all would be free again? Everyone was so busy nowadays, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Besides, you could ignore Atsumu tonight. No one would ever blame you for it - they all knew what he did graduation night.

The car suddenly stopped, bringing you out of your thoughts. You muttered a quick ‘thank you’ to the driver and slowly got out of the car. Your heart was pounding in anticipation, almost like it could feel the familiar presence of the one who owned it long ago. You wished your heart and head could be in sync, but one was reminding you of the hurt and pain that he inflicted, while the other yearned him despite it.

You took a deep inhale, steadying yourself. You could see the old volleyball team through the windows of Osamu’s restaurant, noting that you were in fact last to arrive. You didn’t want to admit it, but your eyes lingered on your old lover more than they should have.

Finally deciding that you couldn’t stay out in the middle of the street much longer (and the fact that you didn’t wear a jacket), you made your way to the building. Your heels clicking and clacking against the pavement, almost like a beat of impending doom. You couldn’t help but be a little dramatic; after all, what were you to do - you were about to see the only guy you had ever loved and he just so happened to have stepped on your heart.

It was surprisingly easy for you to plaster a smile on your face, greeting your old teammates with warm hugs and a beaming grin. You could’ve almost fooled yourself into thinking that you no longer felt any pain or resentment. That was until you briefly caught Atsumu’s figure in the corner of your eye. The awkwardness and tension was slowly rising inside of you. It was only for a split second but that was enough. You both locked eyes with each other for just a moment, before you both pulled your gazes away.

It was a lie, you weren’t fine at all.

For the entirety of the night, you ignored Atsumu. In fact, you completely disregarded his presence, pretending that he didn’t even exist.

And he did the same to you.

You silently gave your heart an apology, utterly siding with your head. You didn’t know whether this was the right choice, but it was yours nonetheless, and you weren’t going to back out of it now. You weren’t sure if the rest of the guys could sense the cold war between the both of you, though it wouldn’t surprise you if they did.

And they surely did.

It wasn’t that hard to note from everyone else that the ex lovers were tiptoeing around each other. Often noting the minuscule glances the both of you gave one another while the other wasn’t looking. It wasn’t hard to note that the both of you were so firmly stubborn, and refused to even say anything more than a greeting, which was definitely half-assed on both parties.

It wasn’t hard to see the anxiousness on both of your faces when the only available seat just happened to be next to you, and Atsumu had to awkwardly shuffle his way to the chair and plop down quietly.

It wasn’t hard for anyone to see that the both of you were still stupidly in love with each other.

They couldn’t tell if it did or didn’t make any sense. You and Atsumu were that couple. The high school sweethearts. The ones so in love, everyone else thought that you’d both actually make it. It definitely came as a huge shock when Atsumu had broken the news to his closest friends. Osamu could barely hear his twin on the phone, the hiccuping and sobs sounded foreign to him. What he could make out, however, was Atsumu saying “I let her go ‘Samu” followed by a burst of tears.

With both of your backs to one another, you continued on, as if you both weren’t there. It honestly hurt the rest of them to see. The once happy couple, who couldn’t keep their hands off of each other were now scooted on the edge of their seats, desperately grasping at any amount of space they could.

Did either of you know that neither one of you had dated, or been with anyone else since?

You kept chatting away, noting that the end of the night was dawning upon you, and that after this you’d never have to see Atsumu again - at least not for a long while. The night wasn’t all that terrible, and you supposed if this were to ever happen in the future once more, you wouldn’t be apposed to coming again. You felt a slight pang in your chest at that revelation. But it was what you wanted right? You were so dubious about this reunion because of him in the first place, it didn’t make sense to feel this way. You tried to brush it away - your heart couldn’t get what it wanted. One day it would lose his sense, and find another to beat for. The world was a big place, and even though it hadn’t found another, it would.

One day. It was all you could hope for.

As the last few minutes of the reunion drained on, members of the team excitedly decided to spend it taking group pictures. It all happened so fast and so quick, that you didn’t even register everyone piling in together. A phone set up on the counter, and bodies squished together. You had completely forgotten you were situated next to Atsumu. You couldn’t move, no matter how much you wanted to.

It was only for a few minutes, you could endure it.

Suddenly, you were accidentally pushed. Your heels making you unstable, and you tripped right into Atsumu. Both of his hands intertwined with yours, so naturally. It was the contact your heart was craving for all night. You muttered a quick sorry before promptly turning away from him.

For some reason, neither of you had let go of your hands closest to each other. You figured for just one last time, you’d indulge in the feeling of him, and that for once, you’d listen to what your heart wanted.

You smiled, did silly poses, stuck out your tongue, threw up peace signs and everything you could think of. And as you all got ready for one final picture, Atsumu squeezed your hand.

You didn’t hesitate to squeeze his right back.

And after a last click you all cheered and clapped, so thankful that tonight happened. Regrettably, you both had to let go. You savoured his touch, wanted to ingrain his fingerprints in your mind. He no longer made you angry or frustrated. The last few moments made you relive your happiest memories with him. It felt like such a shame to let it go, but you had to. You knew deep down, that your heart would never desire anybody else; but he made that choice long ago. There was nothing you could do anymore.

You’d now go on and pretend like he never existed, like you had been for years. You wondered if it was easy for him. It must’ve been really: he was rich, famous and you weren’t blind to the fact that he just looked better than ever. You were sure girls were fawning over him left, right and centre.

Once your Uber arrived, you quickly bid the boys a goodbye, telling them to enjoy the rest of their night. You were sure they were heading to a bar, and you didn’t want to impose on being the only girl. You’d let them have their boys night. You ducked out, your heels tapping, and the chime bell ringing above the door signalling your exit as you bounced out of sight.

Atsumu could only sigh at your departure secretly wishing that you’d come back and bound into his arms. But thats all it was, wishful thinking.

“Are you really just gonna let her go again?”

Atsumu turned to his brother with a sad smile.

“There’s nothing I can do. I can’t go back in time, and besides, she hates me and has since graduation. As much as I want to, I can’t do anything. Anyway got any booze?”

Atsumu brushed past everyone to head into the restaurants kitchen, hoping to find some form of alcohol to dull his senses and momentarily forget about you. He’s sure if he stayed any longer out there, he would’ve cracked. He was the one to end it, he didn’t have the right to go after you. It had been years, he’s sure you’d have moved on anyway. At least he got to see you tonight, and as short lived as it was, he was glad he got to hold your hand one last time.

Miya Atsumu had broken your heart, and you wouldn’t let those feelings resurface.

You smiled bitterly, looking out at the passing city lights, noting that that had indeed been true, because those feelings never left.

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 52

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

"We fucked up."

"No, we didn't."

"We had Peter. Now we don't have Peter."

Loki's eyes were completely dark from a spell letting him see through Barbara's, but still he waved toward the completely-not-suspicious building complex in front of you. "But we found him again. That surely counts toward something, right?"

"We lost the alien pin too."

"Which we also found, if memory serves," Loki shrugged, as if the search hadn't taken the two of you the better part of an evening. Who knew searching through half of New York and visiting places it might've been dropped could be so time-consuming?

The weather was pleasant, the air growing warmer as the seasons continued to change. It was one of those days where everything felt brighter, despite how disappointing the reality might be.

"I'm still voting for arson," Loki said, assessing the tall fence surrounding the area. An area which crawled with people trying their hardest not to look like agents of some super-secret government facility, and failing rather miserably.

"You might not have noticed, but buildings nowadays have systems preventing fire from spreading."

"Do these systems work against magic fire too?"

"How am I supposed to know? Do I look like I spit magic fire on a whim?"

"You did last week," Loki muttered. The memory was still fresh.

"Wow, so now I'm the bad guy, and not the sneaky little bastard that ate all the cupcakes I left for-"

Barbara came back, flying on quiet, if a little filthy and decomposed, wings. Loki blinked twice, shedding the spell connecting him to the bird. As much as he didn't mind the heights, Loki had to admit he wasn't a fan of the sharp turns and rather random drops Barbara's flying pattern involved.

Loki pointed to one of the buildings further inside the complex. The red, evening sun hit the countless windows with blinding intensity. "The bird thinks the boy might be there."

You looked at the long stretch of road leading to the complex, like a carpet laid out specifically for you, but the crowds of agents working in the area leading to it made you cringe.

"I still vote arson."

"Why don't we just walk in, though? I mean, it was SHIELD themselves that contacted us, right? It should be okay to just… pay them a visit without sneaking around like… well, like villains. No offense."

Loki frowned. He didn't look convinced. "I like sneaking around, though. It keeps me away from trouble."

"If that’s true, how did you get banned from the Moon twice?"

"Touché. Lead the way then, love."

The way took you down the asphalt road, busy with cars rushing both ways. Despite their past issues, Loki couldn't help feeling a little bad for the agents. For all the grandeur and importance they always described their life to hold, Loki's imagination kept on showing him pictures of ants in their little nests, crawling in their endless, pointless patterns.

The ants seemed to fall into a state of shock rather abruptly after laying their eyes on the two visitors to their nest. Some of them just stood there, looking after the figures marching right to the gates, while others ran in a seemingly random direction.

"That worked out better than I thought," Loki admitted when all the space around you cleared.

Barbara perched on top of the gates, screaming on top of her rotten lungs. The security guards looked at one another and then at the approaching god. Their hands went to their guns. Loki took that as a compliment.

"I know this might surprise you," Loki said, "but we are here to talk. Fetch us your Agent Cauldron, and be quick about it."

"Coulson," you whispered.

"Whatever."

*

"No matter how many times you ask me, the answer will stay the same - I don't know," Peter groaned.

His back hurt from sitting on the same, incredibly uncomfortable metal chair for hours, and the lights of the small and a little outdated office were starting to make his head throb with an upcoming headache. Or maybe the reason behind it were the endless questions to which he wished he know the answer.

Agent Coulson looked at the photos on the desk between him and the boy. These were nice pictures. If he were more sentimental, he might've put them on a fridge or maybe to the clipboard on the wall to his left. They were definitely worth taking a look at least once a day - it wasn't often one had a chance to look at a god and an ex-assassin, completely drunk, being led by a teenage boy on a spider-thread.

Peter glanced down at them too, and scowled.

"Yeah, well, we've met and hung out together, but I don't know where they are now. Sir, if I knew, do you really think I'd willingly stay behind?"

The agent didn't answer. He moved very little, in fact. Peter was unsure whether it was a part of some special, super-secret interrogation technique, but it was working. To make things even worse, the metal chair he had been given was making sitting still a nightmare. 

"That's a fair point, Peter," Coulson nodded, "but do you think I would be pressing you so much if two of the most dangerous people on this planet weren't currently on the run with an alien artifact of unknown origin that might've been recently used to damage our Moon?"

That was a fair point too, Peter had to admit. He might've even grown a little worried after hearing such news, if only it all didn't sound so exciting.

"So you DO know what happened to it, right?" the boy leaned forward, with eyes shining with excitement. 

Agent Coulson sighed.

It was a small,  almost invisible display of all the emotions boiling inside of him that he'd never show. He knew better, and had far too many years of experience to allow that. Still, the situation was beginning to wear on him, especially if he spared a thought or two to consider what the two people that should absolutely never go off radar, could be up to at this very moment. 

Last time Loki visited Earth, he led an alien invasion. Last time Coulson met you before you hesitantly joined forces with the Avengers, you'd already put two bullets in Tony Stark and were on the way to making it three.

Coulson allowed himself a moment to thank his hair for already thinning out or he'd be losing it in a handfuls. 

And the worst part was, he actually believed the boy.

He had clearly helped with sneaking you through half the city and into his apartment, but there was no evidence of him helping you out too. Wherever Loki and you were, Coulson was sure he'd hear about it soon enough. He might even let the boy go, and monitor him long enough to see if you'd show up. 

The decision wasn't an easy one, but the agent was left with very limited choices. After all, how likely was it that the two of you would just show up?

The phone vibrated on the desk in front of agent Coulson. He picked it up.

He blinked. And simply said, "Yes."

Peter did not like the absent look on the agent's face. He'd seen far too many movies not to recognize the moment the power shifted in the room. Just in time for something bad to happen. It wouldn't be a problem if it stayed on the screen - Ned and him would freeze with the popcorn halfway to their mouths in anticipation of what was to come. But here, in reality, far from the safe spot on a couch, Peter was painfully aware of how much he didn't want to know what was about to happen next.

Unfortunately, whatever powers weaved through the lives of people, deciding their fate and luck, rarely listened to young boys in their judgement. In fact, they listened to old agents even less, but that was something Peter was unlikely to ever find out.

Peter twisted on the chair biting into his backside, and looked back to the thick, metal door. He hadn't realized it when he had been brought inside, but the door looked like it could take a few shots from a gun and remain unscathed. 

Peter was not sure what to do with that information.

The door in question decided to finally open and reveal the reason for the sudden tension. It didn't even creak, so the god walked in in complete silence. You followed him, not as quiet, but just as unexpected.

Your face lit up when you noticed the boy. "There you are!" 

Peter looked at the agent. The agent looked at Peter.

"I know you're probably not going to believe me, sir, but I swear I had nothing to do with this."

The agent had no doubt that the boy was the least likely person to ever manipulate the god of trickery and lies, or the almost-ex-assasin into anything, but he didn't say a word. He only raised an eyebrow and asked, "To what do we owe the pleasure?", as if there was anything pleasant to be found in the room. But lying was not solely a domain of gods, as all the agents in the world would probably agree. 

And Coulson was a very good agent.

"We recently lost a boy, but it looks like he's just been found. Thank you for taking care of him."

"It was a pleasure," the agent smiled. "Although I can't help but worry if you have lost the pin too?"

"We wouldn't dare," Loki lied smoothly with an even more charming smile.

The god of trickery waved his hand and produced a pin seemingly out of thin air. Whether it was only a clever trick or an actual spell was something agent Coulson would never know, but for once he didn't mind. The pin felt heavy and looked just as the files described, but whether it was the real thing would only be revealed once a detailed analysis was completed. 

Still, it somehow looked like the deal was fulfilled. Coulson would be lying if he said he'd placed a bet on that outcome.

Peter sprung out of the chair the moment you waved at him to go. The agents and armed officers waiting behind Loki and you on the corridor shifted with unease, their fingers laying on triggers. A small crowd eyed every move made in Coulson's office, which was to be expected - it was not every day a facility such as this one was visited by a god.

Especially one with a rather problematic history of attempted world domination.

"If we may, we'll take our leave now." Loki bowed stiffly.

"And what about the 'favor' you insisted on as payment?"

Something cold and ancient flashed in the god's eyes. "All in due time."

[writesowhatnext]

does it ever drive you crazy? // george weasley

Summary: lovers // you didn’t know when exactly it got hard to be friends with george weasley

Request: nee

A/N: so this is the last part!!!!! Very much hope you like and much thank to Erica ( @ickle-ronniekins ) for being excited about this bc if she wasn’t, I almost definitely wouldn’t have written this ALSO ok but scepticism is such a weird word

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: swearing

enemies // friends // lovers // epilogue

It didn’t take a genius to know where Hermione would be, you thought as you searched around the library for her huddled figure. You grinned as you approached her, the book in your hand heavy as you got closer. She smiled when she saw you, watching you with curiosity as you dragged the chair opposite her out and sat down.

She looked at you expectantly as you pulled out the book from behind your back and presented it to her.

“A first edition Moby Dick?” she whispered; her eyes glued to the cover. “How on Earth-“

“My parents. It’s for you.”

Her head shot up so fast you would’ve thought she got whiplash.

“I couldn’t accept-“ she said quickly. “Why?”

“I heard you decked Malfoy last year,” you said with a smirk, leaning your chin on your hand, pleased to see her so happy about your gift.

“Oh.”

“I just wanted to support any efforts you had to repeat the incident.”

She grinned widely, looking back at the book in her hands, hugging it to her chest slightly.

“Thank you-“

“Don’t mention it, Granger,” you insisted, shooting her a smile before turning to leave, only to be interrupted by George, who was crouching behind the bookshelf next to you.

“Why are you being so nice?” he asked gruffly, frowning. “You’re never nice; isn’t it against some super-secret Slytherin code to be nice?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you stared at him.

“Perhaps,” you said. “But, I’m nice to you.”

“Right,” he snorted, tilting his head to the side before looking behind you for something, or someone. “Sure, you are.”

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “I could be if I wanted to be… I just don’t want to be.”

“Now, that’s a lie.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, raising your eyebrows as he stared past you. “I think that not telling Pince that you’re pulling a prank in the library is quite nice of me.”

His wide eyes shot to yours in panic, not at all relieved by your smug expression. You didn’t say anything else as you left though, and as he watched you saunter out, he frowned. Had your lips always looked like that when you bit them? Why had he noticed?

“Ready, Georgie?” Fred asked, his eyebrows drawn downwards as he looked between your disappearing figure and George’s confused face.

“Yeah, yeah, course.”

After spending the day with them at Hogsmeade, you started spending more and more time with the Weasley twins. You were more surprised than anyone at how much you were enjoying yourself. The new year changed nothing and so, as sixth year rolled around, you found yourself on quite friendly terms with the idiots you’d actually come to enjoy being around, even when they had a tendency to ambush you in corridors.

“What you up to, Y/N?” George asked, scaring the shit out of you as you walked down the hallway. His presence at your side was looming and you tensed at the proximity. Fred appeared over your other shoulder, gifting you with matching shadows.

“Causing trouble?” Fred said conspiratorially.

“Could I ever with you two prats around?” you said, only just noticing their massive grins. “No doubt whatever you’re about to pull will backfire astronomically.”

“Y/N,” Fred gasped, placing his hand on his chest. “Ye of little faith! Do you not trust us?”

You hummed as they stopped outside the Great Hall which was seemingly always full nowadays with people trying to enter their names for the Triwizard Tournament.

“Not particularly, no,” you said, eyebrows raised.

“Oh!” George exclaimed, clapping his palm against his chest exactly as his brother had done. “Dear Y/N, you wound us with your scepticism!”

You shot him a dry look, frowning lightly at the way your stomach twisted as he grinned at you. You leant in the doorway as they rushed inside; their entrance met with a chorus of cheers. Watching them talk to Hermione, you let your head rest on the stone archway. They were such idiots, you thought as you regarded them, your eyes lingering on George’s face, animated as ever.

When they moved closer towards the goblet, you were caught off guard by Hermione’s pointed stare, a smirk playing on her lips. You frowned in confusion and she only shrugged; a very irritating, very knowing shrug. Annoyance coursed through you as she avoided your eyes and you were in half a mind to walk over to her before Fred and George were all but ejected from the cup’s perimeter, soaring backwards as grey hair sprouted all over their faces.

A laugh of disbelief escaped your lips and your hand flew to your mouth as they began to scrap on the floor, rolling around like children even though they looked more like OAPs than reckless tweens. You snorted at them, not at all aware of Hermione’s eyes on you, a curious smile on her lips.

The Triwizard Tournament was the talk of the school and despite the undeniable rush that gossip and competition provided, you found yourself avoiding the whole business entirely. You didn’t know Cedric Diggory too well and you didn’t care all that much for Krum or Fleur Delacour; Harry was another matter, though, and whilst you cared about whether he lived or died, you didn’t think you’d be having sleepovers anytime soon. 

And so, you just kept to your studies. Regardless of how crass it sounded, life still went on and whilst the champions were battling dragons, you still had essays to write and tests to revise for. With that said, you did enjoy destroying those stupid badges that had swept through Hogwarts like the plague.

In your spare time, you found great joy in hitting them mercilessly with your quidditch bat, pummelling them until they turned black and stopped with that ridiculous “Potter stinks” slogan. Sure, magic would’ve done the trick, but it was nowhere near as much fun. You were on your fourteenth badge when a presence behind you startled you.

“What’re you doing?” George asked, his tone curious as he stood next to you with his arms crossed.

“Target practice,” you said, not pausing to chat as you threw another badge in the air and sent it slamming into the stone wall opposite.

George didn’t say anything for a moment; he just watched you with a small smile.

“You know, your heart isn’t as ice-cold as you want people to believe,” he said slowly, frowning as he examined your features.

“Is that right?” you asked, your voice deliberately devoid of emotion. “Anything more you’d like to tell me about myself?”

You could feel his eyes on you as you spoke and you cursed the part of your brain that wanted so desperately to blush under the weight of his stare. You swallowed, adjusting your grip on the bat. You could’ve sworn that he didn’t have this effect on you the day before, but your mind wandered back to the strange incident in the hallway outside of Snape’s class and you missed the badge you’d just pitched yourself.

Things with George had gotten weird. You couldn’t place when exactly, but the easy banter you’d developed hardened and you found yourself avoiding him more often than not. It wasn’t easy, though, given the fact that you were supposed to be friends and given the fact that you looked for him around corners, almost disappointed when he wasn’t there. 

On some occasions, it was much harder to avoid him than others and despite how much you’d have liked to, you could hardly move when they sat opposite you in silent revision. That would just be rude. You ignored them for a while, acutely aware of their presence when George started muttering to Fred, his voice growing louder and louder.

“Oi, pea-brain,” you hissed, clicking your fingers to get their attention, a strange feeling climbing up your spine as George’s eyes fell on you. “Shut up.”

Fred rocked his head from side to side, imitating you and earning himself a hard kick in the shin under the table.

They managed silence for a whole nine minutes before Fred started poking you with his quill.

“Psst,” he said loudly, prodding you with his finger this time. “Hey-“

“What?” you snapped, scowling at Fred’s pleased grin, not unaware of George’s gaze also on you.

“Did you see the first task?”

“Of course, I did,” you said, returning back to your parchment.

“And?” he pressed, leaning forward.

“And, what?”

“What did you think?”

You paused, looking up from your paper to meet Fred’s eyes. You’d known him well enough long enough to notice when he was up to something. You glanced at George to see if he had the same devilish glint only to see him looking down, though it was obvious he wasn’t doing much with his stationary quill. With your eyebrows drawn down, you looked back at Fred, watching as he raised his eyebrows pointedly.

“Cedric was great, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, I suppose…”

You leant back slightly, confused as to why Fred was pushing the topic so much. Then, though, you realised. It was the way George’s brow furrowed at Cedric’s name that sparked your interest and as you glanced back at Fred, you raised an eyebrow. Was George jealous? Fred nodded.

“He was brilliant, actually,” you said conversationally, rolling your shoulders back. “The transfiguration of the rock into that dog? Quite ingenious to distract the dragon like that.”

“Anyone can do transfiguration,” George muttered under his breath.

A smile quirked at the corner of your lips as you turned to Fred, only growing as he made an upwards motion with his hands, urging you to amp it up a bit.

“And Krum’s conjunctivitis curse? Sort of brilliant for such a meat-head…”

“Sort of brilliant,” George scoffed, shaking his head as his grip on his quill tightened. You considered your interest piqued as you watching him closely this time, gauging his reaction.

“And, well, Harry’s always been an excellent flier, hasn’t he?”

As George rolled his eyes, you snickered, looking to Fred in disbelief.

“George, are you jealous?”

His head shot up quickly as his wide eyes met yours. “Me? What?” he spluttered unconvincingly. “Why would I be jealous?”

His question, to his credit, stumped you. Why would he be jealous? You supposed that an attention seeker like him would love the fame of being a Triwizard champion, but Fred and George still managed to be the names on everyone’s lips with their betting service. It had to be that, though, right? There was no other reason why he’d be jealous.

“No reason,” you said shortly, turning back to your essay.

This time they managed seventeen minutes in silence before George started asking Fred about Potions, a subject Fred knew very little about given his partner was Angelina Johnson. To say he was distracted in those lessons would be a gross understatement.

“I don’t know, mate,” Fred said apologetically, frowning when George groaned. You told yourself not to, but the words were already spilling out of your mouth before you had a chance to stop yourself.

“I can help,” you offered, sealing your mouth shut. When you did you get so bloody helpful?

“Really?” George said, his eyes so earnest a lump formed in your throat. You could only nod.

“Brilliant,” he grinned, sliding over his parchment. “What the bloody hell does this mean?”

For all his faults, George, you had to admit, was smarter than he looked.

“So, you add horned slugs if-“ he cut himself off when Seamus Finnigan sat down next to him, immediately and easily drawing his attention away from his work. You couldn’t contain your eyeroll and you didn’t try to.

“Those Beauxbatons girls…” Seamus mused, shaking his head. “They’re grand, aren’t they?”

“I’ll say,” George agreed, lighting up. “There was this one the other day that me and Fred bumped into and blimey she was-“

“Maybe she could help you with potions,” you said, your tone more venomous than intended as you leant back. You recognised the prangs of jealousy in your gut and clenched your jaw at the feeling.

“Are you jealous?” George asked, barely able to fight the smile on his lips.

“Am I-“ you rushed, tutting. “Of course, not. Why would I be jealous?”

George narrowed his eyes but left well enough alone when Seamus once again garnered his attention and you were left asking yourself the same question over and over again. Why would you be jealous? 

You didn’t have an answer when Hermione stalked over to you in the corridor with a determined look on her face and an armful of textbooks.

“You like George,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You hoped it wasn’t.

“I’ve been accused of many things, Granger,” you said, walking away as she followed. “But never something as awful as that.”

She scoffed, much to your dismay.

“Right, but I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

You swallowed. “With contempt and thinly veiled hatred?” you suggested, though your tone was far from credible.

“Like you’re in love.”

That, of all the things she could have said, very quickly broke your composure.

“Give off, Hermione,” you said harshly, partially thankful for being able to so honestly and full-heartedly deny something.

“Fine, fine, alright,” she said, raising her eyebrows as you stopped before a staircase. “But at least admit you like him.”

“Maybe I like like him,” you replied childishly, trying unsuccessfully to avoid thinking about it.

She shot you a dry look.

“We both know you do,” she said matter-of-factly, disappearing back the way you came and leaving you to stew on her words as you stomped up the staircase.

You couldn’t like George, right? He was George. He was stupid and irritating and reckless and the year before you’d hated his guts. Things couldn’t change that fast, could they? Could they?

What you didn’t know was that George had been asking himself the same thing.

“Shut up, Fred, I do not-“

“Right, sure. You definitely do not fancy Y/N. Gotcha!”

“I’m serious, Freddie,” George said lowly, throwing a scrunched-up ball of paper at his brother across the Gryffindor common room.

“So am I, Georgie,” Fred said, sitting up. “Anyone with half a brain-cell could tell you’re mad for her.”

“Mad for who?” Harry asked, strolling through the portrait hole with Ron hot on his heels.

“Y/N,” Fred replied, smiling at George’s sigh.

“Oh, right,” Harry said, sitting in one of the armchairs.

“What the bloody hell do you mean ‘Oh, right’?” George said, his tone exasperated.

“Well, it’s kind of obvious,” Ron said, shrugging. “You guys hated each other a few months ago and now you’re making googly eyes at each other all the bloody time.”

“Oh, piss off, Ron,” George groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “You don’t know anything about girls.”

“Oi!”

“He’s right though,” Fred insisted, kicking at George with his foot. “Why do you think you were so jealous when she was chatting about Cedric and Krum?”

George, as a rule, hated it when Fred was right. He hated it even more when Ron was right and so, as he walked down to the dungeon to find you, he was not in love with the whole situation. It was annoying, really, that they thought they knew so much. It was more annoying that they did know so much. Even a broken clock, though, he figured, was right twice a day. 

As he slipped through the Slytherin common room charms, he was taken aback by the memory of him doing exactly the same thing not two years ago and a strange feeling clenched at his chest.

Seeing George Weasley in your common room was never a good sign, and as you noticed him by the doors, you knew that he would have to leave very soon before he got hexed or worse, before Malfoy started to talk to him.

“Oi, Y/N,” he said, finally spotting you as you walked towards him, already fully aware of his presence.

“George,” you replied, nervousness brewing inside your stomach. It was the first time you’d been alone with him in a very long time.

“Do you-“ he began, swallowing as he looked down at you. Your words lodged in your throat at the serious look in his eyes. “Do you fancy going to the Yule Ball, by any chance?”

You raised your eyebrows, your eavesdropping audience long forgotten as you stared at him.

“With me?” he added, frowning.

“With you?” you repeated, trying to ignore the echo of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Yes.”

You both stared at each other for a moment.

“Are you asking me out?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Your mouth twitched at his uneasy tone, finding his nerves quite endearing.

“Alright.” You said, nodding, a small smile growing on your lips.

“Yeah?” he asked, his whole face lighting up in surprise.

“Yeah,” you repeated, biting your lip as you grinned at him.

“Brilliant,” he breathed, his cheeks hurting as he beamed. His confidence seemed to flood back to him as he looked at you again, standing taller than he had been. “I mean, we could just skip the ball and just make-“

“Don’t push it, Weasley,” you said, raising an eyebrow. You wetted your lips, fully aware of his eyes on them. He glanced up to meet your gaze, pleased to see the same mischievous twinkle he knew so well.

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[namelesswolffreak]

"Boyfriends"

I've been working on this story concept for....3-4 years now and I've finally managed to work everything out to the point I'm confident in posting this little blurb of the main characters. So, I hope you enjoy and feel free to ask questions about them and their world.

Context: This takes place in a world of super powered people heavily inspired by MHA / Marvel / Miraculous. Waker (Way-kur) Atlas is Dare City's main hero who is put through quite a lot on a daily to weekly basis trying to beat the baddies and Cyrus Fauthrin is his infamous thief arch nemesis turned lover and best friend who causes trouble around the city just to get the Hero's attention.

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

The melancholy of the day was waning on Waker as he patrolled the quiet streets of one of Dare’s many neighborhoods which was quite unusual considering every seven seconds a villain was after his head. The sun was barely above the clouds, no one was really awake yet and the only thing that accompanied him was his footsteps as he jumped, hopped and skipped to the next platform he summoned under his feet. He happened to be bounding over Lay Wind Park, the foxes fast asleep in their dens to his disappointment, but the Hero Monuments were still a sight to behold in the early sunrise as they shone with brilliance in what little light was filtering over the surrounding hillsides.

The wind blew past his frizzed locks as he stood above the park near a tree in the shade, expression steeled and focused as he watched for signs of trouble as he waited for a certain someone to arrive. Today was uneventful and rather slow, the kind of day Waker preferred if he were being honest. Heaven knew being bored all day was ten times better than returning home to the countless kitchen sink surgeries he’d have to do with worn needles and his mother’s thread pinching into his skin as he sewed up bloodied wounds full of shrapnel and debris. Much better. The birds were chirping a happy, lazy song as they flew by on the breeze and the distant hum of an awakening city filled the natural ambiance of cicadas and crickets quite nicely as he watched and waited. He dare let out a sigh as the scene took hold of him fully, a warmth washing over him that he hadn’t felt in the recent weeks.

Which wouldn’t be for long as the rustling of tree leaves and a “Boo!” have him falling off of his platforms and hurtling towards the ground with an embarrassingly shrill scream.

“Waker!” A concerned voice follows as a blue blur dives after him.

Ground spiraling as he falls, Waker braces for impact, too late to conjure any platforms beneath him to break the fall so, he readies himself, waiting for the hurt and pain that would surely follow with some scrapes and bruises…………...But it never comes. He unscrunches his eyes and removes his arms from his head to see a blue, sparkling light surrounding him.

Irritation and embarrassment take over him immediately.

His face turns a copious amount of red as he’s carefully scooped up in pale arms that hold him close and, humiliatingly enough, in bridal style. Oh god no, he curses mentally, murmuring a soft “No…” into his shield of arms. This was so not how he wanted to show up in front of his partner after their long and grueling few weeks of not being able to see each other outside of villain fights and breaks in between their testing week.

The sudden warmth of a chest presses against his side and the delicate rhythm of a frantic heart race beneath his one hand as the other quickly grabs for his cape to hide his strawberry cheeks. There was no way in hell he was letting ‘he knew who’ see him in such a state, there was no possible way he could let the witch-like thief catch him like this. A brave hero didn’t get scared or spooked by rustling leaves and the word boo! Absolutely absurd! Though a voice in the back of his mind said he already had.

“You are such a fucking clutz, I swear.” And a huge scaredy cat, the blue-clad ravenette doesn’t say aloud, but his tone implies anyways. “I should take you to my ballet classes sometime, maybe then you’d actually learn some balance.” The comment only makes him clutch the soft fabric tighter around himself.

He’s loathing the thought of unveiling himself now, but he knows he’s been caught, his normally stoic or serious persona now broken and practically burned away as he knows his cape isn’t doing much to hide his warm face or the tenseness of his grip. Plans to forever sink himself into a hole where nobody could possibly ever find him again after this mess are shortly abandoned for now and gaining courage Waker swallows the huge lump in his throat and tries to cleverly reply. “H-hey, what’s a-....What’s up, Witch Boy?” And he knows the intended playfulness doesn’t go through as he’s met with a narrowed glare.

The other isn’t amused. “Witch boy, really? Did I actually scare you that badly that you lost a couple of brain cells?”

“Shu-shut up, Cyrus!” He defends as this “Cyrus” just sighs at him, though his stare more sly than pointed now.

“Get out of that stupid thing so I can see your face.” He says with a tremble in his voice that Waker can definitely tell is laughter, the prick. “Or I’ll totally drop you again.” And like hell he will, Waker knows, but he takes the threat seriously nonetheless and loosens his grip on the cape just enough to see the Ravenette’s brilliant and ever playful smile.

For a moment Waker just stares and admires him, those brilliant blues sparkling, no, literally sparkling as he says something Waker doesn’t catch. The sun is framing his face so perfectly in the light, highlighting those perfectly red cheeks he would love to kiss every morning, and the slight upturn of his lips as he smiles down in reverence at him, and the slow flutter of his lashes that compliment his features nicely. Though braided off to the side Cyru’s hair never fails to make him look so ethereal as the gentle morning breeze brushes back his loose strands. Waker swears it looks like its made up of space itself when he lets it go during the night time, convincing himself he can see stars within the strands when he stands beneath the moonlight. It doesn’t take much to make the hero swoon regarding his partner nowadays. Daydreams of peaceful nights alone on the couch watching movies together after his nightmares keep him awake and alert run through his mind, or the times Cyrus has saved him from getting beaten to a pulp and they spent hours talking over stitching him back together about nothing at all, and every single time Cyrus has stuck up for him at school, reminding him of the warmth this person carries with them and all the love and affection he’s constantly showered in when they’re together. It’s strange how much Cyrus has changed over the past few months from raging emo to ride or die friend, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. He doesn’t even try to stop the lofty sigh that escapes his lips as more dear memories cross his mind.

And Cyrus is all too quick to recognize that dumb look on his face.

“Oh, hell no!” Is the only warning he gets before being promptly dropped, this time no blue aura to save him from hitting the dirt below, landing with a thud. “Not this early in the morning!” Though Waker could have sworn Cyrus was sharing the same look with him not minutes prior.

“Ow! Why’d you drop me, asshole!?”

Cyrus cocks his hips as he floats there, his wide brimmed conical now covering his eyes in an intimidating manner, making him way more menacing than he should considering his current attire. “Oh please, don’t even act like you’re hiding that stupid look on your face, Idiot! I ain’t dealing with your whole sappy dappy act this early in the morning.”

By “sappy dappy” Waker knows exactly what he’s referring to and scowls accordingly. Apparently, holding hands and having morning cuddles while complimenting everything about Cyrus is considered sappy and lovingly disgusting. Well at least to some people, it’s called affection and admiration!

“It’s a look that means I like you, asswipe!” Waker shoots back, malice nowhere to be found in his tone though, barring more on playfulness.

“Do you think I’m in love with you or something!?”

And they then stand there -well float there- in silence, both looking each other in the eyes, narrowed brows testing the other to make the next move or say the next snappy comment. And for a moment it looks as if the words really have cut too deep, but Waker isn’t one to remain serious for long as his shoulders begin to shake, prompting the other to clutch his stomach and stifle a grin as their eyes water over with laughter.

“Oh, no, not me, I could never.” Waker quips, leaning back and hugging both his arms, not caring for the dirt now caking his suit. Cyrus is quick to come back with his own natural snark.

“Pfft, as if! Absolutely not. Me and you, the orange haired frizz ball who kicks my ass more than twice a week over that one time I stole a candy bar? You gotta be fucking with me!” He bellows, Waker taking note of the boy flipping upside down where he floats in the air, his face a contortion of joy and happiness as his ripped dress flows with the wind.

He finds the display rather adorable, recalling that such a thing only occurred by accident when the thief was getting emotional. His inept ability to control his powers never failed to amuse the Hero. The little wrinkle of his nose didn’t quiet his thoughtful admiration either as he blushed in between bouts of giggles.

"I wouldn't have time to be your lover anyways!"

“It’s only 6am, when can I admire my boyfriend so it fits within your busy schedule?”

And the laughter is immediately quieted, a heavy silence filling the air, even the crickets and cicadas falling victim to it. The world is waiting in bated breath as if listening to the drama unfold.

Waker holds in a breath. Oh shit, oh fuck, he really fucked it up this time! Way to go, Atlas, you really did a number on today!

…………

………….

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I just did-”

“It’s ok……” Cyrus breaths out, taking a long drag of air before finally finishing. “It’s….ok.” He manages to lower himself to the ground, dress falling at his sides, and crosses his arms in doing so. “We’re-I’m going to have to get used to it eventually.” He shrugs. “Right?”

There’s a weight to his words as Cyrus steps closer to the redhead that Waker recognizes near immediately. They’ve had this talk before, a talk that has led to a misunderstanding or two between them in the past and a verbal fight at that. The term “Boyfriend.” It was a touchy subject to say the least and while it had been a challenge for even Waker himself to start using it, it also seemed Cyrus was struggling to accept the lofty title. A long time ago before the two even met, the word had a different meaning to it for them both, but Waker had long since come to terms with it himself, but understood Cyrus’ hesitation in saying the word freely. He considered his next words carefully.

“I know you don’t exactly like the ter-”

“It’s not that I don’t like it Waker…..”

“I know, Cy, but.” Failing to put his thoughts into words Waker scrambles forward to catch Cyrus’ hands in his own, pecking each delicately, square on the knuckles, gauging his reaction whilst he does so. When Waker is met with a soft smile, he returns it, though his much softer and kinder in Cyrus’ eyes. “I shouldn’t have said it when you’re not ready. Just because I moved past it doesn’t mean you have.” Noticing his smile slipping he clumsily adds in, “And that’s ok! Really, it’s ok and I mean, and I love you and-uh, I get it and I mean I just say boyfriend because that’s what everyone else says, expects- wait no- I didn’t mean to phrase it like that uh-I don’t really get the need for a title for what we have anyways, like so dumb right!?”

Followed by more ridiculous rambling that has Cyrus covering his mouth trying not to giggle. It’s a nervous habit that has come to amuse the thief to no end. “And-it not like it means anything to us, its just there for other people so they know that um, we, us, you and I are an um item I guess wow that was cheesy and dumb and I am so sorry that you have to put up with me oh god I’m rambling and no, don’t look at me like that. I’m doing the thing again aren’t I-” Shaking with laughter again Cyrus has to put a hand on his shoulder to get him to shut up because he knows if he doesn’t Waker could go on well into the night and has before. It didn’t help that he could feel the tremble of the others fingers, realizing Waker was going to throw himself into an anxiety attack if he didn’t.

“Waker!” And Waker promptly closes his mouth, panic clear in his eyes that Cyrus quickly combats by brushing strands of orange out of his face and behind his ear. “Just take a deep breath.” And Waker does, following the instruction intently. “And let it out, slowly.” And Waker follows that too, looking that much calmer as Cyrus pulls him closer. “Slowly.” He rubs his thumbs over Waker’s hands. The trembling is still present, but less so. “There you go.” And doesn’t stop telling him to breath calmly until he feels Waker’s grip relax in his own.

Delicately and softly, each flyaway is combed back into place only to immediately pop out again, but Waker appreciates the sentiment anyways and Cyrus has no problem being given an excuse to keep combing through such lovely soft tufts. He loves the soft mane of fluff on his partner’s head that even since their first meeting has remained as untamed and wild as ever. -Such a shame he always ties it back when he’s on duty though- It just adds to the contrast between his actual self and hero persona, the sweet and endearing ball of anxiety vs the serious and battle ready hero of Dare city who couldn’t catch a break. And he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit to which one he preferred.

“You don’t need to tell me-er.” Waker quickly corrects, trying not to sound patronizing. “I don’t need you to explain yourself Cy. You-we don’t need to have a name if that’s what you want, that’s what I’m trying to say. Official or unofficial or whatever, I won’t treat you any different.”

“I know Waker. I…..I really want to call you that, just I-.......I just like what we have right now and-”

Waker just pecks him on the cheek quickly and pulls away to pat at a spot on the ground, looking longingly back up at him. A soundless “You don’t want to lose me.” goes unsaid as Cyrus complies, Waker taking the shorter one in his arms once more.

It wasn’t a matter of Cyrus being afraid to commit, though maybe it was, not even he was sure of what was going with himself anymore, but a fear that the wonderful friendship he’d built up with the hero would end or change or just not be the way it is now because they suddenly started calling each other boyfriends. He’s had it happen one too many times at this point, every one of his previous “boyfriends” changing everything once they started dating, acting as if kissing and romantic outings were supposed to be their only interactions from now on. They were no longer interested in the random silly things he found on the internet or just hanging out doing whatever, but were interested in using him, his body, parading him around and rubbing it in peoples faces, being denied having fun if it wasn’t their idea of “fun” and more. Cyrus' stomach curls remembering being ignored for weeks to months at a time because he wasn’t feeling up to being in bed with them or awkwardly sitting off to the side while his one boyfriend at the time showed him off to his friends and bragged. It was the same guy who he used to play videogames and eat cookies with on the weekends, talking about anything and everything…...It hurts him to realise there probably was never a friendship there to begin with. Just an elaborate ruse to get him into bed at some point.

And that was one thing Cyrus feared when they had held hands for the first time after awkwardly admitting to harboring feelings for each other after the high of a fight they were forced to join sides on. Never had the thief felt more relieved that his feelings were reciprocated, but also more scared that he had just ruined the one healthy relationship he managed to make in those many months spent together.

Cyrus removes his hat and huddles under Waker’s chin, placing his head right on his heart that gives out a steady, comforting rhythm and brightens when the taller of the two puts his head on him in return. No, Cyrus thinks, this is different.

A long silence falls between them as they cuddle in each other's arms, just watching the sun come up. Basking in each other’s presence, taking in the warmth of their bodies pressed together in this nice early morning, and relishing in the calm which was far and few in between with their double lives and they were thankful. There’s no need to exchange words now as a quiet understanding befalls them both.

It’s only after the sun seems to peak at the crest of the hillsides does Waker make himself heard again.

“Is that why you dropped me?” And Cyrus blinks for a quick second, processing the question before understanding and then playfulness cross his expression.

“No it’s because you’re a dunce.” He huffs. “And fucking heavy as hell.”

Waker chooses to ignore that last bit. “But I’m your dunce.” He boops his nose.

“Damn, straight you are.” And Cyrus retaliates with a kiss on his.

Boyfriend or just “friend who I like to kiss and hold hands with sometimes”, Waker loves him and Cyrus doesn’t doubt that for a second.