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bitchiha · 5 years ago

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✎ Hinata With a s/o Who’s Personality is the Opposite of Hers

A/N: this was a request from a very sweet anon and I worked on it for such along time, but Tumblr did not save the post so I had to retype it.. but its okay, I am fine and here is the second attempt:

Request: Hi! I hope you're doing well. I was wondering if you could make some relationship hcs for hinata with a s/o who's the opposite of her? My baby deserves everything and I don't see much of her and am sad bc I love her 😢 Thank you you talented person who warms my heart💿💗💿

Warning I did not proofread this <3 I am too ducking lazy bye

Gosh okay Hinata needs a s/o that’s loud and slightly obnoxious lol, like she needs that type of person to push her out of her shell. She may be shy at your advances at first, but let’s be real she actually really loves them.

99.9% of the relationship is Hinata stuttering your name. “Y-y/n!!”

She likes when you make a big stink of any small gesture she does for you. It makes her feel super confident and even if she’s walking away blushing just know that she’s going to be thinking of that moment for a good month afterwards. Like she brings you food one day after you’re training with Naruto and you’re so happy that you mow it down in like 2 seconds. Then you smother her in hugs, kisses and praise and she just turns beet red. “Y-y/n!”

Your compliments help push her out of her shell even more and she cherishes every single one. Even if your compliments are kinda shitty, it’s the thought that counts. “Wow Hinata, youre eyes look like marbles, they’re so cute.” And Hinatas blushing so fucking hard and Shino and Kiba just scratch their head like?? “Uh why did you blush at that weak ass compliment?”

You’re basically her cheerleader. Make sure to give her pep talks. Like if she’s feeling down about herself for whatever reason, you always go up to her and give her the best inspirational talk you can, throwing in all the cheesy shit you know and she’s always grateful. You’re probably half screaming the pep talk because you’re just so riled up to make your girlfriend feel energized and the effort alone is comforting. “Don’t worry about what anyone else says, I believe in you Hinata! I know you can do this.”

Whenever you two are on missions together she always makes the effort to try and show her powers off to you. She sees how protective you are of her in the village and she wants to show you that she can take care of you too. That just gives her the extra drive she needs to kick the enemies ass <3 She loves when you stare at her wide eyed and shocked after she whoops their ass. Like leaving you speechless is such an accomplishment because you hardly ever shut up. “Holy shit, Hinata!!! You’re the coolest girlfriend ever, you totally kicked their asses!”

Brag about her!!! Please just flex about your girlfriend. She does the same for you but she gets super shy afterwards. Like when she talks to Shino, Kiba and Kurenai about you she always does the little finger thing with her hands and turns beet red. Kiba loves to tease her about it when you all hang out, “Yeah, Hinata always talks about you with us. She’s always rambling about how—“ then Hinata proceeds to clamp a hand over his mouth with her eyes bulging out of her head. “K-Kiba!!”

You’re a tease so you like to get her flustered. So sometimes you join in on Kibas teasing, afterall it’s just fun and games. It’s not like Kiba wants to hurt your feelings. However, if it’s anyone else in the village they will not get the same treatment. Oh someone wants to shove Hinata as they walk past her in the village? Want to say she’s not strong? You will openly challenge them to a battle. “Hey you jerk! You wanna disrespect my girlfriend again? I’ll kick your ass right now!” And she’ll hold you back, “Y/n! It’s okay! Really you don’t need to do this.”

Honestly as you two get closer in the relationship, she starts to develop some of your mannerisms and little by little she bursts into “y/n fits.” That’s what kiba calls them. It’s basically where she does something bold and totally un-Hinata like. Like someone’s talking crap about you in the village and she goes from little shy girl to “who do you think you are talking about y/n like that?!” Kiba tells you about the fits later and you just sit back with a grin, “that’s my girl.”

She also doesn’t mind PDA — to an extent. You’re an affectionate person so you can’t help the PDA sometimes, but you know when you’re overstepping. There’s 3 levels of Shy Hinata. First level is with light PDA, like gentle little touches that you don’t even notice you’re giving her. Light brushes over her arm as you walk, or your fingers thrumming against her thigh as you two sit down at a restaurant. There’s a little brush of pink across her cheeks and you normally don’t notice it unless someone *cough cough* ( Kiba ) points it out.

The second level is with intentional touches, like hand holding, wrapping an arm around her etc. Her face turns bright red and you have to ask if it’s okay, she nods eagerly, she actually likes it a lot. It just takes her a while to adjust to it.

The third level is emergency level. Like this is just borderline she is going to evaporate. It varies from touches you didn’t mean to be so intimate, to jokingly slapping her ass when you pick her up from training. She just immediately turns red and starts stuttering and you can almost see her head overheating.

It’s kind of funny lol and you have to apologize afterwards because she’s literally over heating for five minutes afterwards. As the relationship goes on she will end up getting you back at least once, even if she’s blushing the whole time. It’s worth it though because you’re blushing just as hard at her sudden boldness.

Also loves nicknames, even the tacky ones you give her. Call her a whole list of nicknames and she adores every single one of them. For real, like you can call her: princess, peaches, love, cutie pie, sweetie, etc and they will all make her smile.

Saves like every card you give her. They’re the most extravagant yet horrendous things that ever came into creation, but she loves them all and ignores Neji’s blatant dislike for them. Like sure, they’re decked out in glitter and they look like a five year old made them, but you tried your best and the thought that you spent your time on her in such a sentimental way always makes her gush. Keeps them all in a shoe box under her bed with all the other trinkets she collects from dates and hang outs with you. She definitely wears the gifts you give her too, even if they are a little too crazy for her, she likes how humbled you get when you see her wearing them.

Also she’s 100% a pillow princess and you will not and cannot change my mind <3

#naruto shippuden #naruto #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto x reader #hinata hyuga #hinata x reader #hinata hyuuga #hinata hyuga x reader

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teenytinystorage · 5 years ago

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Can you make a fanfic with Logan and Deceit only talking in memes

Hi!! so I don’t think this is exactly what you wanted... but I love them Brain Cell Bois so i hope you enjoy!!

•——•

Vocab Cards

Summary: Logan is very much Struggling with learning new slang, but who decides to actually help the Disaster Nerd but the slimy snake boy Deceit? Welp, this’ll be interesting.

Word Count: 1,291

Warnings: one (1) “not wanting to hurl” mention, implied body horror

Genre: Fluff?? Probably?

Pairings: Platonic/Romantic Loceit

“You know,” Deceit quipped, staring down at his gloved fingers as he stood in front of the camera and to the left of Logan, “you’re not very good at those.”

“At what?” Logan responded quickly, stuffing his “LOL” vocabulary card back into his jeans pocket as the other sides watched the two banter.

“Those vocabulary cards! Oh, you ‘ought to have someone teach you this stuff,” Deceit flicked his tongue at his teeth, “Who am I kidding, I’d even write some cards for you at this point,” he snickered before turning to Thomas. “But Thomas--”

So then, Deceit knows some slang, Logan thought, Deceit’s wittiness still ringing in his ears even after the video ended and the sides each dispersed into their respective rooms.

He sat at his computer, typing and retyping LOL into UrbanDictionary to make sure that, yes, his card was right, LOL was an acronym that stood for “laughing out loud” and he had his definition right on the card.

He even used it the right way too. He said, “Thomas, this is not a LOL matter.”

That’s the right usage. Sure it messed up the phrase “laughing matter” up a bit, but it was hip, so it didn’t matter too much.

So why was it so badly received? Did Deceit really know more about this whole slang deal than he did?

I’d even write some cards for you at this point, Deceit had said earlier.

Hm. Hmmm. Hm indeed.

Logan could use the outside perspective, in his opinion. He knew it wasn’t reliable to have only one source on anything, but for slang, he could never find any other “reliable sources” (HUGE air quotes on that, UrbanDictionary was in no way a college-research-paper-worthy site) but one; everything else just made no sense and was contradictory and confusing.

Maybe conferring with a knowledgeable colleague on the subject could be useful? That always helped with the scientific method. And Logan was basically going into this whole trend thing blind anyways, so it wasn’t like any conversation between them could hurt.

This line of thinking led Logan to stand from his seat, stuff a few blank index cards into his pockets and a ballpoint pen in there too for good measure. He gave one final adjustment of his glasses before sinking down into the classy snake-faced side’s room.

Deceit, sitting on his couch, engrossed in a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, gave a glance and then a double-take of Logan before sighing heavily and shutting his book.

“Ep ep ep--” Deceit held his pointer finger up in the air, “before you ask, yes, Remus did your little project and confirmed that we can regenerate limbs. And before you ask, no, I did not ask how he found it out because I didn’t care nor did I want to hurl today.”

“I actually came here to-- wait, really?” Logan responded, surprised, taking out an index card and quickly jotting down the findings. “Fascinating.”

“It’s ickier to me than it is fascinating, no cap,” Deceit complained as he smoothed the fringe peeking out from his hat. “But it’s your research and not mine, so go off, I suppose.”

Then Logan, upon hearing Deceit’s confusing phrases about hats and/or glacial structures and his encouragement for Logan to keep researching and/or to leave (slang was so confusing), remembered what he came here for in the first place.

“Right, Deceit,” Logan stuffed his index card of findings into his pants pocket, adding, “Earlier today I used a slang term that I believe stands for ‘laughing out loud,’ but your reaction implied to me that I may have been incorrect in the context of its usage. Would you care to elaborate on that?” Logan asked, clicking the pen in his pocket a few times as he spoke.

Deceit lounged back on the couch and held the back of his head in his hands. “Cssssertainly. You should totally use acronyms as if they’re the actual words they stand for, it definitely isn’t cringe-worthy at all.”

Logan, bewildered at the fact that Deceit even decided to answer his query (or humor him, more likely), quickly filed the information into his brain. “Oh. Oh, okay. And would you be willing to maintain your offer of assisting me with inscribing more vocabulary cards?”

“I hope you realize that was just some quick and witty charm of mine,” Deceit hummed. “You do take things very seriously though. That’s just your vibe.”

Logan’s expression faltered a bit. “Oh.”

Deceit paused, glancing his eyes up at the ceiling irritatedly before looking back at Logan. “You know what? If it keeps you from committing any other word atrocities such as the one today, then sure, I’ll help.”

“Really?” Logan replied just barely before he sank out and perused the internet for at least four hours for new slang terms on his own. “You would?”

“Sure. But I’m not a meme connoisseur by any means, I leave that to the raccoon. I’ll still try my best, though.”

It was relatively quiet in Deceit’s room after Deceit’s initial lecturings, including “never describe emojis out loud in words” and “for the love of your nonexistent mother, please never use ‘periodt’ like it’s actual punctuation.”

“So was it Lebanese or lesbian?” Logan asked, scribbling on another index card and laying stomach-down on the floor.

“It was lesbian,” Deceit said, sitting vertically and upside-down on the couch with his head almost on the floor and his hat barely hanging onto his head.

“Ah,” Logan commented, finishing the card. “Is the humor supposed to arise from the child thinking the camera-lady said Lebanese instead of lesbian, which conflicts with her allegedly American nationality?”

“No one knows,” Deceit answered.

“Ah, of course,” Logan replied, setting the card into a now growing stack of finished terms.

The two kept writing.

“Ok, here’s a test,” Deceit said a few minutes later, turning to Logan. “And they were roommates.”

Logan took a second before responding, monotonously, that is, “Oh my god, they were roommates.”

Deceit nodded his head in surprise. “You’re getting good at this.”

“You think so?” Logan asked, a small sense of accomplishment seeping into him.

“Well you’re certainly better than the LOL matter from before,” Deceit commented, chuckling.

Soon the next video had already started before Logan knew it.

“But doesn’t it seem like the right thing to do here is help?” Patton asked, twiddling his fingers together.

Thomas sighed.

“Well, I think that y’all’d’ve a bit of patience for Thomas. His vibes are a bit whack at the moment, no cap,” Logan interjected, still in his monotone voice.

The sides, and Thomas as well, stared at Logan in disbelief.

“What?” Logan peered around the room.

“Where did you learn all that?” Virgil asked, jaw hanging open and eyes wide.

“Deceit taught me a bit more about slang so I don’t inspire any more cringe-fests for you all.”

“Weird flex, but okay,” Deceit replied, rising up next to Logan.

“Agh!! Can you just leave— him—” Virgil shot a glare at Deceit, “—out of this??” Virgil pleaded, now irritated and growling under his breath. “I’ve already had my fair share of sleep-paralysis demons for today.”

“Quite uncommon for the Protohype to be so well-versed in lingo,” Roman mused. “But alas, go forth I proclaim.”

“Yeah, good work Logan, but what is Deceit doing here again?” Thomas asked, to which Patton replied: “Yeah, I think Thomas has his mind pretty well made up on this decision already!”

“Oh please,” Deceit started.

Logan couldn’t help but, for a moment, revel in his success, before, of course, going back to being the coolest cool teacher cool guy in the entire Thomas-sphere.

What a nice thing it is to learn, isn’t it?

#people really do be liking loceit after not liking it for a while huh?#(its me im people)#i love... the Boys.... 💛💙#sanders sides #deceit sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #loceit #platonic loceit #romantic loceit #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus mention

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limjaeseven · 4 years ago

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Dandelions

Pairing: Yugyeom X Youngjae

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 4,199

Summary: Flowers meant to a lot to Yugyeom, Youngjae made them special to him.

Warnings: Weird pacing, lingerie, implied smut, Yugjae being absolute cuties, cursing, mention of an emotional breakdown

Prompt(s): School is hard. It is less hard when you have someone to help out.

[a/n]: This fic is part of @got7writerscollective‘s The Virgo Project. Applications for the net are open so check the pinned post of the blog if you wish to join the network

The wind was blowing in Yugyeom's face as he made his ways up the Arts buildings's steps on a warm spring afternoon. Making his way to the dance studio at the end off the hall, the ravenette passed the music room to hear the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard.

Yugyeom froze in place as he processed the sound that flooded his ears. The soft melody of a piano accompanied the words as they made their way out of the room to Yugyeom. The voice, full and unimaginably warm, filled Yugyeom's body with such hope that his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. Turning quietly in the direction of the room, he peeked into the music room.

The softest brown hair, the prettiest heart shaped smile, the finest fingers, the brightest eyes that Yugyeom had ever seen filled his senses as he stared at the boy sitting in front of the grand piano in the music room. His forehead clear of worry as he looked down as the sheet in front of him and played the instrument with expertise made Yugyeom mesmerised.

But the ravenette was soon pulled out of his haze as the music abruptly stopped. He looked up to see the boy looking back at him, his eyes blown wide, almost as if he was a scared. Yugyeom composed himself and cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching one hand up the scratch at the back of his neck.

"Do you always sneak around to creepily watch people?" The boy at the keyboard broke the silence first, his comment making Yugyeom's ears redden.

"You sing really well, I was just heading to the dance studio and stopped to listen" Yugyeom tried hard not to stutter but it was hard with the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life in front of him. The man stood up to walk to Yugyeom, stopping in front of him and extending his hand.

"Choi Youngjae" Yugyeom hesitantly took the man's hand, smiling back brightly as he slowly felt himself relax into the touch. He introduced himself before remembering that he was running late for class. Shouting a small apology, the ravenette ran across the hall to enter the practise room just in time.

When he finishes, the music room is empty, save for a small note pasted on the piano lid. Yugyeom saw his name written in a pretty handwriting on the front as he peeled the small bit of tape carefully.

Choi Youngjae had left his number for Yugyeom to find, hoping he would come back to search for him. The younger felt his heart skip a beat when he saw Youngjae's number and 'go on a date with me?' scrawled cutely on the piece of paper.

Yugyeom ended up staring at the piece of paper for hours before he could muster up the courage to actually text Youngjae. He retyped the message a million times before settling on 'hey it's Yugyeom' before sending it and throwing his phone across the bed so that he wouldn't stress over the boy replying.

After forcing himself to wash the dishes that had been piling up in the sink of the apartment Yugyeom shared with his childhood best friend Bambam, he finally heard the notification bell of his phone go off, and Yugyeom would never admit it but he almost leapt over his bed to grab his phone and see if the brunette had replied.

The conversation started slow at first, going over the basic 'what's up's and 'how's life's, but soon both boys realised they had a lot more in common than they had originally expected. From their love of music to their weird obsession with MasterChef, the two boys ended up spending an hour texting before Youngjae called Yugyeom on the phone.

Yugyeom almost had a mini heart attack as he felt his phone vibrate in his hands, Youngjae's contact popping up on the screen. The younger mumbled a shy hello which was met with bubbling laughter from Youngjae's end who didn't hide the fact that he found Yugyeom cute, much to the younger's dismay, who wanted to portray a more "sexy" appearance, not so different from that of his cousin's boyfriend Jaebeom.

After hours of talking about seemingly everything but at the same time what felt like absolutely nothing, Yugyeom looked at his window to see the first rays of the sun peak through his sheer curtains, signaling dawn. Fortunately for both the young men, they had their day off so they bid each other good night, or rather morning with the promise of meeting for lunch at a local restaurant. When enquired if it was meant to be a date, Youngjae merely chuckled and told the younger to get some sleep.

Not more than six hours later, Yugyeom was up on his feet, walking impatiently across the small flat, much to Bambam's dismay, who usually slept till late afternoon on off days. The ravenette spent an ungodly amount of time trying to pick an outfit and in the end settled for a pair of black skinny jeans that really accentuated his long dancer legs, a black and white checkered shirt and a pair of lace up boots that he may or may not have stolen from Bambam's closet.

The anticipation led him to reach the restaurant ten minutes before the time they had agreed to meet up, so he took the liberty of picking a table for him, distracting himself for just a few moments. Yugyeom selected a small table next to a large floor to ceiling window which let the sunlight fill the room with an almost angelic feeling, similar to how he felt when he first met Youngjae.

The older man arrived five minutes late and proceeded to apologise profusely for his tardiness to which Yugyeom just laughed at his cuteness and signalled the waiter to their table. After catching Youngjae trying to pick the cheapest thing on the menu, Yugyeom insisted that the older pick what he really liked, and that the ravenette would pay for the meal, for it was a date after all.

The comment caught Youngjae off guard, which gave Yugyeom enough time to figure out what Youngjae had originally wanted to order and asked for it himself. The elder slapped the boy's arm which just made both of them laugh out loud, a bit misplaced in the slightly posh environment but Yugyeom absolutely loved it.

"I never said it was a date," Said Youngjae with an adorable pout, making the butterflies and the sudden urge to kiss the elder resurface in him.

"Well I'm saying it is, any objections?" To which Youngjae didn't say anything because he knew he was just playing around with the younger. Their food arrived in the midst of their conversation about the best seasons of MasterChef America and it was eaten and plates taken away without the two men ever realising, their eyes locked onto each other.

Yugyeom did end up paying for the meal, not that he really minded, being lucky enough to come from a well off family with parents who gave him generous allowances. Youngjae on the other hand came from a small village, where his family worked as farmers and couldn't pay for his college tuition so Youngjae had to earn his scholarship on his own, making him very careful about money.

Yugyeom and Youngjae's relationship bloomed in the summer of the year that they met, first becoming inseparable friends before the love dyed itself into the fabric of their relationship. They learned small things about each other along the way, like how Youngjae loved to sing while doing almost anything, his brows furrowed in concentration as his lips formed the words of the song.

Youngjae on the other hand learned about his boyfriend's love for flowers, noticing it first with the four flower vases in the man's house. He made it a habit to buy his boyfriend a singe flower every day, a gesture that Yugyeom blushed at profusely the first time but grew to love, anticipating the type of flower he would receive every coming day.

On their third month anniversary, one that Yugyeom found rather unnecessary to celebrate, Youngjae took the man on a date which entailed driving for almost two hours, much to Yugyeom's dismay, who was dying of anticipation since he had no idea where his boyfriend was taking him. After jamming to rather suggestive music that Yugyeom seemed to have an obsession with, they arrived at their destination, which was more like an empty road on the countryside but Youngjae said they had reached so Yugyeom got out of the car.

In front of the ravenette was acres of yellow flowers that never seemed to end. As far his eyes could see, small, bright bursts of sunlight sat on top of the greenery, making the place look almost as if it was a picture of heaven, not the earth that Yugyeom inhabited. Youngjae laced his fingers with his boyfriend's and led him through the small gaps between the massive patches of flowers to a clearing somewhere in the middle, far away from civilization and surrounded by nature.

In the clearing was a red checkered blanket and a basket full of Yugyeom's favourite food, including an iced choco which was suspiciously cold. Both of them settled on the ground, enjoying the environment around them, the bright sun and quiet atmosphere having its own charm.

"Dandelions," Youngjae said "I've read somewhere that dandelions signify wishes and having them fulfilled. I had wished when I was young to meet a person who stole my heart and cared for it, instead of breaking it. I know it's really early for us, but I have a feeling that I've gotten my wish." Yugyeom had tried to keep his composure and not act too surprised at the statement but the way he choked on his drink and his ears went red made Youngjae burst out laughing and made Yugyeom wonder if he's actually fallen in love with an angel.

Things were going great till finals season rolled around. Yugyeom's degree had required a compulsory English course and if there was one thing Yugyeom knew for sure about himself it was that he was absolutely terrible at English. Yugyeom spent hours pouring over a Korean to English dictionary and his notes but nothing made sense to him, the words floating in his mind with no meaning to hold them together.

After four days of locking himself in his bedroom and three days of not charging his phone, the sounds of someone harshly knocking on his door woke him up from the restless sleep he had fallen into on his study table.

"What is it, Bam?" Yugyeom shouted, annoyed. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to get rid of the sleep that still lingered in them before harshly opening the door to see a very angry looking Youngjae, along with his cousin Jinyoung standing in front of him.

The two men pushed the door wide open and sat down on the younger's bed, looking extremely displeased at the energy bar wrappers and empty take out boxes littered amongst stacks of paper in the ravenette's room. Yugyeom looked at them guiltily, hanging his head. Jinyoung was about to say something when his phone started ringing loudly. The man gave Yugyeom a dirty look before excusing himself to pick up the call.

"What the hell is this, Yugyeom? I've been trying to contact you for days and you seemingly drop off the face of the earth. I tried to contact Bambam but he was out of town visiting his parents and I was so worried about you! I showed up here twice but you never opened the front door! I went to Jaebeom hyung as a last resort and Jinyoung hyung mentioned having a pair of keys to your apartment and I dragged him immediately to meet you. What do you think you're doing?" Youngjae, usually the sweet angel who never got mad at Yugyeom, was fuming as he shouted at his boyfriend.

Yugyeom looked at the way his boyfriend stood there, pointing a finger at him and shouting, but he didn't hear a word he said. It was as if his brain had shut off as it slowly processed what was happening. He had spent four days trying to study for his exams but he knew nothing, and it wasn't him being pessimistic, he really had no idea what the words written on the paper meant, he had no idea how he was going to make it through the paper. He couldn't fail, his parents didn't spend so much money to send him to one of the most prestigious colleges in the country for him to fail at something as simple as English.

It felt like the world came crashing around Yugyeom, all over an exam he couldn't fail if he didn't want to repeat the course next semester. It was just the fact that Yugyeom had never failed at anything in life, yes, he was from quite a privileged family but it wasn't like he didn't face any hardships in life, and for those that he did, he always worked hard and got through it and for the first time it felt like nothing would get him though this. He suddenly felt his legs give out under him as he fell to his knees, face hidden in his palms, shoulders shaking from the choked sobs that left his lips.

"....gyeom, Yugyeom, Yugyeom baby can you hear me?" Youngjae ran to his boyfriend as he saw him collapse onto the floor, kneeling in front of him and shaking him vigorously to get him back to his sense. Yugyeom snapped out of his haze as he heard Youngjae calling his name. His head shot up to look at the brunette, the tears only streaming down faster as his boyfriend pulled him in for a tight hug and he nuzzled his face in the elder's shoulder.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay" Youngjae kept chanting, rocking Yugyeom back and forth. Guilt welled in Youngjae's heart, blaming himself for getting too angry at his boyfriend. He shouldn't have shouted so loudly, he shouldn't have been so harsh, thought Youngjae. His head kept finding more reasons to blame himself for his boyfriend's current state before his train of thought broke when Jinyoung stepped in to see the two men sitting on the floor, clinging tightly onto each other.

It took awhile for Yugyeom to calm down and clear his head. Jinyoung brought him a glass of water which he chugged harshly, almost getting some of it in his windpipe. After a round of cuddling in silence, Yugyeom started feeling more like himself. Once he could speak without bursting into tears, he explained everything to the two men, half expecting them to judge him for having a breakdown over something so petty.

Much to his surprise, Youngjae just hugged him tightly, while Jinyoung opted to pet his hair and reassure that it's alright to feel stressed over his work. Yugyeom had always been someone who strived for perfection, it showed in his dancing, and sometimes when things didn't work out, he could get stressed and that was okay, Jinyoung told him.

Jaebeom showed up after a while, mainly to check on Yugyeom and pick Jinyoung up to go back home. Youngjae ran to give his friend a hug, the brunette had always considered the man to be like his own older brother, having had lived as roommates in Youngjae's freshman year of college. The elder also told Yugyeom to accept that he was stressed about the exam and work to get through it, and that he would always love and support him, regardless of what happened in the future.

Once the couple left Yugyeom's apartment, Youngjae lingered, cooking some dinner that they had on the living room couch together, sitting at either end and playing footsie while the TV played in the background, not that either of them paid any attention to it. Just as Youngjae was about to tuck Yugyeom in and leave, the younger held onto the brunette's wrist and asked him to sat, and Youngjae obliged.

"I'm sorry, gyeom, I didn't mean to shout at you, I was really worried" Yugyeom pressed his lips on to his boyfriend's instead of answering him at first, but that wasn't a good enough response to Youngjae, who proceeded to pull away, much to Yugyeom's dismay.

"What I did was pretty reckless and shitty hyung. I could have let you know that I had an exam coming up, or that I was busy. Ghosting you was wrong, I'm the one who should be sorry" Youngjae just shook his head and pressed a soft kiss to his boyfriend's forehead.

"Oh also, if you're struggling with English you could have asked me, I did the same course last semester and topped the batch" Youngjae said casually, earning a harsh slap across his arm. The elder just chuckled and pulled Yugyeom close but the ravenette was mad and so he pushed himself away from Youngjae and sat up.

"Why couldn't you have told me this earlier? I spent four days trying to figure out what a single paragraph meant!" Yugyeom slapped Youngjae's arm again when the older started laughing uncontrollably but stopped when he saw his boyfriend pout.

"You never asked, Gyeomie. This is why we talk to each other, communicate, you know? Anyways, don't worry, I'll help you pass the exam" Youngjae kept that promise well, he spent the next week tutoring Yugyeom, who was able to understand enough to pass the test just two days in. They would have finished preparing for the exam earlier but Yugyeom kept getting distracted by Youngjae's lips, by how cute they looked when he spoke English, and kept trying to steal kisses from the elder.

By the end of the week Youngjae was so frustrated of ending up in bed at the end of the evening instead of finishing Yugyeom's studies that he decided to use it to his advantage. On the day before Yugyeom's exam, Youngjae arrived at his place in a long coat tied tightly around his waist. Noticing Yugyeom's questioning gaze over the outfit since it was still warm for thick coats, Youngjae opened the tie at the front to reveal the outfit he had bought from the mall the night before.

Soft yellow fabric covered his waist and legs in the form of a pair of lacy panties, a silky garter belt and sheer thigh highs. Youngjae had paired the ensemble with a cropped top, again in Yugyeom's favourite colour, yellow. Youngjae could visibly see the way Yugyeom swallowed harshly, stepping closer to touch the elder but instead had his hands slapped away before Youngjae discarded the robe and moved to sit down at Yugyeom's desk.

"Pass your test tomorrow, and you get to fuck me in this; don't and I throw this away immediately, it would be a pity but that's the deal" Yugyeom struggled to pay attention to his studies that night but Youngjae's proposition had left the younger hungry and motivated to do well at his exam, if not just to get the opportunity to see his boyfriend come undone all dolled up in the lingerie.

Yugyeom thought he did pretty well at his test, but it turned out that he didn't just to well, he topped his batch. The ravenette, overjoyed at the result, snapped a picture of his rank and sent it to his boyfriend. He put his phone back into his pocket, not having the time to wait for a reply since he was getting late for his next class.

By the time Yugyeom was done with his classes and arrived back at his apartment he was beyond exhausted. He opened the door to see Bambam watching RuPaul's drag race. The elder shouted a hello and Yugyeom responded with a small wave before heading to his room. The scream that followed the sound of Yugyeom's bedroom door opening made Bambam rush to see what was going on, only to see Youngjae sitting on his roommates bed in lingerie.

"My eyes!" Bambam screamed, which made Yugyeom snap out of his haze. Realising that his best friend had just seen his scantily clad boyfriend, the younger pushed Bambam out of his room and locked the door before turning back to see Youngjae walking slowly towards him.

"My baby did so well, didn't he? Well I had a promise to keep so here I am. What do you think?" Youngjae twirled around to let Yugyeom get a good view of his outfit. The younger pulled his boyfriend in for a rough kiss, pulling one moan after the other from the elder.

It didn't take long for the two men to end up in bed and one intense round of sex later, the two basked in the afterglow of their orgasms, cuddling close. One traumatised Bambam aside, Yugyeom was in seventh heaven, he was doing well with his studies, he met the love of his life and sex was incredible.

Life unfortunately was not easy for either of them after that day. There were ups, but there were just as many downs in their life, in their relationship, in their studies and it was a struggle to get through the day sometimes but regardless of what happened, they were always by each other's side, helping them cross the finish line, one day at a time.

Then came a day, it was in the middle of fall, four years into their relationship, both having graduated from college and living together in their own little apartment, when a visitor dropped by their house out of nowhere.

Yugyeom opened the door, seeing a man standing in front of him, asking for Youngjae. Calling his boyfriend from his bedroom, the elder emerged to see the man at the door and freeze, his jaw dropped open. Just as Yugyeom was about to ask the man what was wrong, Youngjae ran across to hug the stranger tightly, wrapping his hands tightly around his neck and laughing loudly.

"Yugyeom, this is Younghyun, but I call him Brian. He was my childhood best friend but left Mokpo in highschool to study in Canada!" Youngjae explained excitedly while Younghyung whined about being called Brian, which apparently the man hated.

Yugyeom hated to assume things but seeing how close the two were and how much skinship they shared, Yugyeom couldn't help but feel jealous of Younghyun. The man was incredibly handsome and witty, making Youngjae burst into his iconic laugh every five minutes or so. Yugyeom could feel his blood boiling, as hard as he tried to control it.

Younghyun had made all the insecurities that Yugyeom carried in his heart, resurface. Being with Youngjae wasn't easy, the elder was sweet and well loved by all. Yugyeom had often spent hours wondering why Youngjae had chosen him out of all the people that would have killed to date the man.

Yugyeom knew he was madly in love with his boyfriend, they had confessed their true feelings towards each other six months prior but sitting there, across from his boyfriend and his best friend as they chatted happily, Yugyeom felt like he was missing something, almost like a physical sign to bound them together. They were too young to get married but Yugyeom still wanted to show Youngjae that he was going to be there forever.

So, exactly four months after the day Yugyeom had his epiphany when he met Younghyun, on the day of their fifth anniversary, Yugyeom dragged his boyfriend to the local tattoo parlor where Jaebeom worked. He begged the elder to accompany him for moral support for getting his first tattoo.

Yugyeom wanted Youngjae to be there with him but refused to reveal the design he had asked Jaebeom to draw for him till it was complete. After hours of waiting and a lot of pain, it was done, and Yugyeom loved it. He hugged Jaebeom tightly and thanked him for his wonderful work before turning to Youngjae.

The younger turned to the side to show off his rib cage which now has a beautiful flower inked on it. It was harsh and masculine with its sharp geometric style but still radiated the soft beauty that the elder associated with his boyfriend.

"Dandelions, " Yugyeom said, "You told me they have to do with having your wishes fulfilled, but they also stand for surviving through all challenges and difficulties, hyung. The last five years have been the happiest times of my life and I never want to get go of that, of you. This here, is my love for you and what you've given me, inked to my body. I love you hyung, more than you'll ever realise" Youngjae pulled the younger in for a deep kiss, tears running down his cheeks at the devotion the younger displayed for their love. It may not be perfect, but it was theirs and that made it perfect.

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 5 years ago

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Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark

Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark- happyaspie

Warnings: None Rated: G Word count: 2182

Tags: Peter Parker &Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker’s Parental Figure, Father’s Dad, Nervous Peter Parker, Fluff ... ...

Part 53 of the Tony Stark is a Good Mentor series

There was only one thing on Peter's mind as he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping and that was Father's Day. Which seemed like an odd thing for him to be thinking about considering that technically, he didn't actually have a father or even his uncle to celebrate with anymore. He huffed, readjusted his blankets, and checked the time on his phone. Then he glanced over at the small package that sitting on his bedside table and sighed. Just looking at it caused a wave of anxiety to race up his spine and settle deeply in his chest. Part of him wanted to take the gift and knock it into the partially open drawer so that it was no longer visible but he knew that, in this case, 'out of sight, out of mind', wasn't going to work.

It had all started a couple of weeks prior when he'd mentioned that he planned to spend the weekend with Tony to his Aunt May. She had confirmed that she was okay with it and then made an off-handed comment about how she had never in a million years ever imagined that she would one day be co-parenting with Tony Stark. He'd laughed it off at the time but the more time he'd spent contemplating it, the more he'd realized she was sort of right. The two of them did go out of their way to discuss him on a regular basis and not just the spider-man stuff. May had a tendency to brag about how well he was doing in school and Tony would reciprocate by talking about how quickly he'd learned this or that in the lab with him. Though he'd never really considered it as, 'co-parenting' because that would insinuate that Tony acted parental with him, which he didn't think was the case.

That is until he'd taken the time to think about it. There was no denying that Tony cared about him. He'd not really shown it at first, but the man had become much more affectionate in his own sort of way. He'd often ruffle his hair, ask him about his day and occasionally give him a friendly pat to the shoulder or firm side-hug. Peter supposed you could call those kinds of things parental, especially when you took into account the amount of time Tony actually spent with him. What had started as sporadic lab or training days had become full weekends, often filled with completely non-hero related activities. Watching late-night movies while throwing popcorn into each other mouths was a fairly regular event.

However, the biggest consideration was that he literally spent entire weekends in his mentor's home, in the room that had been his from the moment he'd stepped into it. Before he stepped into it, really. Tony had gone all out. The walls had been painted red and blue, and numerous Lego kits and science books had been purchased to line the custom bookshelves. He'd been so enamored by it all that, at the time, he'd never really weighed the sentiment behind the gesture until then. Tony Stark enjoyed his company so much he's given him a room in his own home and an open invitation for him to stay in it whenever he wanted along with it. That in its self should have been telling. He didn't know how he'd not thought of that before.

As Peter continued to connect all of the dots he came to the conclusion that Tony had become so much more than a mentor. He'd irrefutably become the man in his life. That was something he didn't think he'd ever have again after the loss of his father and subsequently his uncle, which is probably why he'd not really seen his and Tony's growing relationship for what it was until it had been pointed out to him.

It had taken several days after that for Peter to self-debate about what he wanted to do with that realization. Ultimately, he determined that he very much wanted to tell Tony exactly how important he was to him. May had suggested that he sit the man down and talk to him about it. He'd nodded his head and for some reason, he'd decided that Father's Day would the best time to have that conversation.

That had led him to where he was at the moment. Lying in his bed, in his room, in Tony's penthouse, trying to convince himself that he hadn't made a huge mistake. To have been so excited about his plan, he was suddenly and increasingly anxious about actually going through with it. As such, he ended up falling asleep with a head full of 'what ifs.'

Peter ended up sleeping in the next morning, not waking until FRIDAY was calling him down to whatever breakfast him mentor had thrown together for him. With a deep sigh, he got up and ready for the day before picking the package up off of his bedside table. Rather than darting out the door once it was in his hand, he paused. The plan had been to give it to Tony that morning but he was suddenly having second thoughts. He stood there wavering until the AI was reminding him that Tony was still waiting for him in the kitchen and then put it back on the table. There was no rush. He was going to be with the man all day.

Breakfast was consumed at the kitchen table and then, as always, Tony suggested that they return to the lab. Before they started towards the elevator, Peter's thoughts drifted to the gift in his bedroom but he shook his head at the thought. He wasn't ready and there would be plenty of time later. He wasn't meant to leave until evening, just in time to make it home to eat dinner with his aunt. That gave him hours to find just the right moment.

As it tended to do, the time in the lab swallowed the day as if it were nothing. Sketches were made into models, models were made into prototypes, and prototypes were put through test after test as the hours ticked by. Neither Peter nor Tony paused for much. Even lunch was eaten without ever having to leave the lab. The deli down the street delivered and that was good enough for them.

Evening approached without due warning and before Peter knew it, FRIDAY was announcing that it was time for him to start getting ready to go home. It was then that his mind, once again, jolted back to the neatly wrapped present that he'd still not given to his mentor.

Because his room in the penthouse was stocked with everything he could possibly need, there was no real reason for him to return to his room before he left. He had to make up an excuse to go back up and was actually slightly surprised that Tony didn't call him out on the small mistruth. Typically the man could tell if he was lying, even if it was only by omission.

After being prompted to 'hurry it up' he ran full speed towards the elevator, down the hall and back into his room. Then he just stood there chewing his lip. He was out of time. He had no choice, he had to give it to him before he left. Yet, he couldn't seem to bring himself to actually carry it back down to the lab where the man was waiting for him.

After very little debate, Peter ended up leaving the gift right in the middle of the breakfast bar that divided the kitchen from the living space. After which, he ran back into his room and scrawled out a message onto a sheet of graphing paper, folded it in thirds, and set it under the package before hurrying back to the elevator.

"Find whatever you were looking for?" Tony asked when he reentered the lab. Peter nodded and soon the two of them were getting into one of Tony's expensive sports cars so that the man could drive him home.

__________

When Tony got back from dropping Peter off he went straight back to the lab where he continued to work well into the evening. It wasn't until he found himself having to retype every other word in his coding that he decided it was time to call it a night. He closed up the shop with a wave of his hand and casually wandered back towards the penthouse, noting, as he always did once the kid had gone home, that it was extremely quiet.

Before retiring to his bedroom, Tony decided that he may as well eat something and strode into the dimly lit kitchen area before asking FRIDAY to turn on the lights, squinting at the sudden brightness. He had to blink several times in order to get his vision to clear. ��Once it had, he spotted something on the counter and cocked his head to the side in curiosity.

At first, he'd thought that Peter had left something there but once he was close enough to see the package, he realized that 'Mr. Stark' had been messily written across an unevenly folded paper beneath it. More curious than ever, he slowly opened up the note.

'Mr. Stark,

I know that you're not really my dad or anything but I wanted you to know that I think you're awesome and I care about you a lot. I've been wanting to tell you that and today seemed like a good day to do it. I hope your gift.

Happy Father's Day,

Peter Parker'

At first, all Tony could do was stare at the words on the page. Particularly the ones at the bottom. Peter had bought him a Father's Day gift and that made him feel oddly proud. He knew there were definitely times when he saw the kid as something of a son. Especially when they were just lounging around in their pajamas and binging whatever show the teenager was currently into. It was comfortable and he looked forward to those moments more than anything.

Just thinking about it brought a smile to his face and he ended up reading over the massage three times before finally set it down in favor of seeing what was inside the paper. He had absolutely no idea what the kid would have bought him but he was eager to find out. The box was square and small enough to sit on his palm. It didn't weigh much and there was no sound when it was shaken. With a shrug of his shoulders, he started to pick at the corner of the wrapping, revealing a white box. He opened it up without hesitation had chuckled to himself when he realized it was a coffee mug. As he turned it over in his hands his eyes fell on the custom words that had been printed across the side. 'Iron Dad.'

Now, outright, laughing, Tony held the mug up with one hand and ran his fingers of the words with the other. He was suddenly struck by a strong desire to pull the kid into a full-on hug but seeing as the kid was already at home, hopefully sleeping, given the hour, he settled for sending a quick text. 'Thanks, kid. Come by tomorrow after school,' he typed out and was unsurprised when he received no answer. It was nearing one in the morning.

__________

Peter woke up the next morning to find the missed message on his phone and smiled. He'd laid in his bed, constantly checking his phone for any sort of acknowledgment until he'd finally fallen asleep around midnight. Waking up to find the simple text was more than enough to ease his mind and he was already looking forward to seeing Tony later that afternoon.

The school day went by agonizingly slowly as he waited for the last bell to ring. However, as soon as it did, he was out the door in an instant. It didn't take him long to get to the tower and he was soon stepping into the elevator. "Where's Mr. Stark?" he asked after FRIDAY had greeted him and was happy to find out that the man was in the penthouse waiting for him.

"Hey, kiddo!" Tony said the second the elevator doors opened and then crossed the room to pull Peter into a tight hug. "Needless to say, I got your gift," he whispered before relinquishing his hold and went to retrieve the coffee-filled mug.

"I'm glad you like it," Peter said, as he wandered towards the kitchen where the man was leaning up against the counters.

Tony reached up with the hand that wasn't holding onto his new favorite mug to ruffle the boy's hair, as he often did, and chuckled. "Like it? Kid, it came from you. I love absolutely everything about it."

Blushing ever so slightly at the implications of those words, Peter leaned back in to hug the man one more time. "I love you too."

To see the commissioned artwork that inspired this fic go check it out on AO3... while you’re there, drop me a kudos or a comment! I crave validation.

😂😂😂😂😐

#marvel fanfiction #irondad and spiderson #irondad fandom #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #peter parker #tony stark #irondad fanfic #father's day #precious peter parker #also on ao3 #my ao3 #all the kudos

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thenovelartist · 6 years ago

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Church Bells

Fanfiction ~ AO3

Inspired by my favorite song “Church Bells” by Carrie Underwood.

Meaning this isn’t fluffy.

Calling Hawkmoth’s villainy ‘innocent’ may seem like an oxymoron, but to Nathalie, it was the best way to describe it. It wasn’t as though she had a say in the matter anyway. Gabriel wanted his wife back, and he was doing what he could to make sure it happened. It was what any desperate man would do.

The akumas he began with were more-or-less harmless. Ladybug took care to fix the city once the battle was over. No damage was ever lasting. While Nathalie knew instinctually that what Gabriel was doing was wrong, she turned a blind eye to it. Her job was secure, Adrien was fine, and Gabriel was never changing in his resolve despite all of Nathalie’s hopes.

The years drifted by, and change was so slow it was barely noticeable. One day, Nathalie blinked and realized that Adrien was as tall as her. How and when had that happened? He used to be an optimistic young man. Now, he seemingly never cracked a smile. His resemblance to Gabriel in that regard was terrifying.

“I’m going out,” he said, before walking straight out the front door before Nathalie could protest.

The door slammed, and Nathalie sighed. There was no point in going after him. He wouldn’t come back, and they couldn’t make him. It frustrated Gabriel, but if Nathalie was honest with herself, she couldn’t say she was surprised. There was hardly any relationship between them, and that was mostly on Gabriel’s part. And Adrien, after a while, just gave up trying.

That wasn’t the only change, but again, it was almost a slap in the face when the news had turned on and Nathalie watched the akuma ravage the city.

In a way unlike any other before it.

“Sir, you need to examine yourself,” Nathalie warned Gabriel after the akuma had been defeated by Ladybug and Chat Noir. She didn’t particularly care for the superheroes, but it was clear that even they were frazzled by this akuma. “This is going too far.”

“Nothing is too far for Emilie,” he had said. “If Chat Noir and Ladybug would only give up their miraculouses, then there would be no more akumas.”

“Sir—”

“You are dismissed, Nathalie.”

She had no choice but to take her leave.

This went on for five long months. In that time, Gabriel’s aggressive manners had become perfectly clear to Nathalie. Adrien’s responses to his father had changed, too. No longer was this Gabriel being the leader of the household and Adrien submitting out of respect. That had long passed, leaving Nathalie wishing for those days over the almost daily stand-off between two alpha wolves.

Nathalie had typed and retyped her resignation, only to delete it every time. She cared for Gabriel. She cared for Adrien. She couldn’t leave, taking away the only source of stability in either of their lives.

“Sir,” she began after another particularly scary akuma had ravaged the city. “Aren’t you concerned for Adrien? He was at a photoshoot very close to the building the akuma destroyed.”

Gabriel gave a pause, one that grew far too long for Nathalie’s liking. “He’s fine,” he eventually said. “Now, leave me be.”

Nathalie was forced to bow and take her leave. It slowly killed her watching this and sitting by passively because people were getting hurt with these latest akumas, and for Gabriel to not realize his son could be the next victim caused by his own hands was tragic.

She’d even taken up caring and worrying over Ladybug and Chat Noir. The two supers had left the battle looking tragically worse for wear. Ladybug had been hit in the head, causing a nasty cut emphasized by blood pouring down her face, over her eye, down her cheek.

And Chat Noir… Nathalie felt sorry for that black cat.

He always took hits for Ladybug. Ever since the two began. But this last hit had torn open his suit all across his chest, and he’d laid there in the battle for a good moment before forcing himself up, panting and out of breath, to assist Ladybug in finishing off the akuma. Nathalie—along with everyone else in Paris—assumed they were indestructible. However, it seemed that physical damage that these latest akumas left behind didn’t disappear with the call of the miraculous ladybug.

She had to force herself numb, to be indifferent to the pain, otherwise, she’d end up shouldering the guilt of her non-action. Gabriel would insist life would go on, and her tablet reminded her that Adrien had a fencing lesson he had to go to. She had a job to do, one that could take all her attention away from the bloody mess that was the latest akuma battle.

She marched to Adrien’s room and knocked on the door. “Adrien, you have a fencing lesson.”

There was a pause on the other side. “I’m not going.”

Nathalie froze. Occasionally, Adrien would whine about his activities, particularly if it was a photoshoot, but never once did he tell her ‘no.’ “Adrien, be reasonable. You love fencing.”

“I’m not going and that’s final, Nathalie!” he snapped, voice shockingly aggressive.

She didn’t know what to do. Never had she faced this before. But Adrien was seventeen, and if he didn’t want to go, she couldn’t force him. “Are you all right, Adrien?”

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

Those words were too final for her to argue against.

The next day, she would watch the confrontation of father and son unfold. “I’m disappointed in you, Adrien. I’ve let your behavior slide, but locking yourself in your room, snapping at Nathalie, and refusing to go to fencing is unacceptable.”

“Why,” Adrien challenged. “What’s so unacceptable about it?”

Gabriel was taken aback for a second; Nathalie could tell by how Gabriel leaned back on his heels and his eyes widened the slightest amount. “Why?” he repeated, collecting himself to face off Adrien once again.

“Yes, why,” Adrien growled. “There’s no point in going other than not getting in trouble with you.”

Nathalie sucked in a breath before deciding to walk out of the room. She didn’t want to see this happening and instead chose to busy herself with anything she could find to do in order to ignore the scene happening in the household.

The stand-off ended with a fuming Adrien marching from the house and a red-faced Gabriel storming to his office, each slamming the door behind them.

The akuma that occurred as a result of Hawkmoth’s anger was a frightening one. Worse yet, it was clear that neither Ladybug nor Chat had recovered from the last fight, meaning they weren’t in as good of condition as they should be to take down the akuma properly.

That meant more severe injuries and more destruction to Paris and more people running in fear and more damage done.

Nathalie hated it.

A couple months later, and the fighting had only gotten worse, between both the supers and the akumas as well as between Adrien and his father. Nathalie caught Adrien looking for apartments in Paris, which shouldn’t have been surprising considering he was nearing eighteen and the tension in the house was getting to the point that even she could barely stand it.

“You can’t stop me,” he growled.

“I won’t,” was all she said. No point in making enemies with either man.

“And don’t tell my father.”

“I won’t.”

And she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Not when she sympathized with Adrien more than she did with Gabriel at the moment. She did her best not to think of the why and instead got lost in her work.

A month later, Adrien had yet another episode of refusing to go anywhere. Those had increased in frequency to be a few times a month, but never had he refused to go to school.

“Tell them I’m sick,” he said.

“I won’t lie, Adrien,” she snipped. “I will let this slide on your extra-curricular activities, but not for school.”

“I’m not going, Nathalie,” he growled, that aggressive tone coming up again.

“Adrien, what’s wrong?” she asked. “There has to be a reason you’re being stubborn.”

“I don’t feel well.”

“Then should I get you medicine? Or do you need to go to the doctor?”

“No!” he shouted. There was a beat of silence before he answered again. “No. I’m fine. I’ll get over it.”

Nathalie’s brow furrowed. Something was wrong. Even with this rebellious streak, this was not the Adrien she knew. “Adrien, I’m coming in.”

“No, wait—”

But it was too late. Nathalie pushed open the door, exposing the scene that Adrien clearly didn’t want her to see.

He sat on the bed, shirt off and blood dripping from several spots all over his body. Beside him sat a girl Nathalie recognized as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, one of Adrien’s friends. She had blood on her shirt and bandages covering her wrists and head. Her face turned a bright shade of red at getting caught in Adrien’s room, a bandage that was half wrapped around Adrien held loosely in her hands.

The images of Ladybug and Chat Noir after their last battle flooded Nathalie’s mind. Her tablet fell from her hand.

Adrien was fuming, his face growing red with anger as his lips curled up in a sneer. But Nathalie caught the way he shifted. He looked an awful lot like Chat Noir protecting his lady angling himself between her and Marinette.

The guilt came back, heaping upon her shoulders. Suddenly, she felt like Atlas keeping the world up. “I’ll call the school and say you’re sick. Do you want me to bring you two up anything? More bandages? Some food?”

Adrien’s lips dropped from their sneer, turning into a frown. Nathalie would take it.

“No,” he grumbled. “We’re fine.”

Nathalie nodded. “I’ll see if I can excuse Miss Dupain-Cheng’s absence as well.” And with that, she walked out and shut the door.

A day after the incident, Adrien was looking as though nothing had happened, yet Nathalie could still imagine the bruises on his face and the gashes all over his body. It scared her to realize that Adrien had simply become that good with make-up.

“Sir,” Nathalie said, staring at the sulking man hunched over his desk. “Maybe you should take it easy for another day or two. That akuma took a toll—”

“Nathalie, why didn’t Adrien go to school yesterday?”

“He wasn’t feeling well, sir. Do not change the subject.”

“The boy is fine,” Gabriel growled, his cold eyes locking on her. “Do not encourage his rebellion or I shall restrict him further to teach him properly.”

“He’s nearly eighteen—”

“As long as he lives in this house, he will submit to my authority. He’s too hot tempered like his mother.”

“Don’t you care?” Nathalie challenged.

Gabriel’s eyes were cold and hard, boring into her soul as he stared her down. She wouldn’t back down, though. She was made of sterner stuff than to cower in fear at the first sign of trouble

“You are dismissed, Nathalie. And you will not bring up what you think is best for my son.”

It was the final straw that broke Nathalie down to her knees, the load on her shoulders too heavy to bear any longer. “So be it, sir. You’ll have my resignation by the end of the week.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?” she said, raising a brow as she stared back at him. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Then I’ll want that miraculous back,” he warned. “Or have you face the consequences.”

“Is that a threat, sir?”

His gaze said it all.

She rose her chin. “Understood.” And with that, she marched out the door.

That night, she used the miraculous for the second and last time before vowing to give it up forever. By the time she detransformed, she felt sick enough to pass out, but she told herself that the little vial in her hands was worth it. She swore Gabriel would never make an akuma again. He would never again hurt his son, both in or out of the suit. And she’d make sure of that.

The next day, she held her resignation out to Gabriel. “Here,” she said. “My two weeks.”

He snatched it from her hands. “The miraculous?”

She paused but decided that it was best to play along with him now. She took the pin off her jacket and handed it off to him. “Here.”

He took the pin, never taking his eyes off her.

She left before he could say a word.

She closed the door behind her just as Adrien was marching down the stairs. He spared her a glance.

“I just turned in my two-weeks.”

Adrien froze before he could grab the front door’s handle. “What?”

“I’m quitting,” she said. “Just thought I’d inform you.”

He took a step to face her. His expression was passive, but Nathalie swore there was a bit of anger and hurt in his eyes. “I understand why,” he said.

She wanted to tell him more. The vial was burning in the pocket against her chest. “I’ll be here until a suitable replacement is found,” she said. “I don’t know for certain when that will be.”

Adrien gave a nod. “I understand,” he repeated, turning away from her. “I do. I wish you the best, Nathalie.”

And with that, he marched out the door.

Nathalie sighed. There were so many other words on her tongue, but none of them could be said.

Two days later, and neither Agreste man would give her a passing glance. She’d hurt them both, badly. She hated doing it, particularly to Adrien. The little vial she carried with her was a reminder that she had worse in store for Gabriel, but never had the chance to use it. To fix the problem that she’d been privy to yet ignored for far too long.

That night, she overheard Gabriel requesting wine with dinner, likely from the built-up stress she’d caused him. She watched and waited and when no one was looking, she took her chance to empty the vial into the strong liquid without anyone being the wiser.

After she’d been dismissed for the day, she tossed the empty vial into a trashcan outside a food stall that was on her way home from work, where it was sure to be taken out and tossed in a dumpster far away before anyone could think to look for it.

When she arrived the next day, she was just in time to see Adrien pack up his things to leave. “Father isn’t up yet,” he grumbled.

“You didn’t check on him?” Nathalie asked.

“Why bother?” Adrien said, slinging a bag over his shoulder. “It’s the one morning that I haven’t been yelled at.”

It was somewhat of a relief. Nathalie absently wondered if anyone had checked in on him yet. She’d hoped not.

She knocked on his door. “Sir?”

No answer.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself for this. This was her doing, and she’d see her actions through.

She entered his room and saw him laying motionlessly on his bed. Morbidly curious, she checked his pulse.

And what she found assured her that Gabriel had made his last akuma and Hawkmoth would never terrorize the city again.

Now should be the time to call for help, but she had to snatch his miraculous first.

Thankfully, it took all of three minutes do to so, grabbing them from behind the painting that she’d seen him open many a time. The emergency vehicles were on their way immediately afterwards.

By noon, the press had circulated that Gabriel Agreste was dead.

When Adrien came home, he was clearly frazzled. “Is it true, Nathalie?”

Nathalie frowned. “Adrien, you may want to have a seat.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “I can stand,” he insisted.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Eventually, Nathalie coaxed him into a seat in the kitchen. Considering how he practically fell into the chair, he had been lying about his being able to stand. “So, he’s dead.” Adrien snipped. “I could have stood for you to tell me that.”

The barely detectable warble in his voice betrayed him.

With a heavy sigh, Nathalie gathered all her strength as she pulled the moth miraculous from her front pocket.

The color rapidly drained from Adrien’s face.

“He was Hawkmoth,” she said, holding out the gem in a way clearly indicating him to take it.

Adrien’s movements were slow. The shock was clearly overwhelming him as he slowly closed his hand around the moth miraculous.

Nathalie gave him a moment to stare at the gem before dumping another surprise on him. “And I,” she said, pulling out the peacock miraculous. “Was the one that stopped him.”

The silence that followed was long and tense. She watched as a myriad of emotions crossed Adrien’s face, yet he didn’t say a single word, nor did he move from his spot. It took a long while for Adrien’s shock to fade. Eventually, he stood and took Nathalie’s miraculous. “I have to tell Ladybug.”

“You do that.”

Sluggishly, he made his way up to his room, and shut his door silently for the first time in a long while.

The funeral was days later. Marinette attended with Adrien, which drew some press that would have to be handled, but Nathalie knew that Marinette was the only reason Adrien was keeping his composure. If Nathalie didn’t know any better, she’d say Adrien was the only thing keeping Marinette composed, too. It was hard to tell with the black veil Marinette wore to cover her face. A brilliant move, to be honest, seemingly respectful yet the perfect disguise for her emotions. After all, Ladybug was sitting next to her Chat Noir at her arch-enemy-slash-partner’s-father’s funeral. Nathalie couldn’t imagine what was going through Marinette’s head at the moment.

Adrien nor Nathalie wanted to give nor write the eulogy, so it was given by someone else who spoke of how incredibly talented the man was and how he loved his son and late wife.

Adrien quietly scoffed at that. Marinette growled, squeezing Adrien’s arm. Nathalie didn’t flinch; she’d become skilled in hiding her emotions.

The church bells rang, ending the service and officially ringing out the end of Hawkmoth’s reign.

“I hope you’ll be staying in my employ, Nathalie,” Adrien said in the car on the way home. “You, too,” he added, looking over at his driver.

“Of course,” Nathalie said. She did this all for him, because she cared enough to not let this insanity continue any longer. If anything, Adrien needed her more than ever. For support, for help, for guidance.

“My father’s company may lose some steam, but I want to keep it afloat for now. And it’s not because I care for my father’s legacy—”

“I know why,” Nathalie said, sneaking a glance at Marinette. Adrien could say his reasons were that Gabriel was a large company that employed many people who were innocent of Gabriel’s side-activities. But Nathalie knew it was so Marinette could take over and have a launch point for her own designs. She could have been a fantastic apprentice for Gabriel, a perfect option for an heir, yet it seemed Adrien had to be the one to make that rational decision.

Adrien nodded. “Thank you, Nathalie. For everything.”

The fire in his eyes as he looked at her… it reminded her of Gabriel. But it was clear Adrien had a better head on his shoulders. One that wouldn’t give to the temptation of wreaking havoc on the lives of Paris so easily.

“We also have to plan the announcement that Hawkmoth has been defeated,” Marinette said, breaking into the conversation. “That may raise suspicions.”

“So be it,” Adrien said. “The people of Paris need to know they’re safe, no matter what it says for my family name.”

“We could always reveal ourselves.”

“You’d never use your position as Ladybug to forward yourself, so I won’t use my position as Chat to keep my name clean,” Adrien countered. “All people have to know is that Hawkmoth has been permanently dealt with and that he called destruction on his own head. He made an akuma for the very last time.

“And that’s all that has to be said.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #one-shot #It got twisted real fast #nathalie sancoeur #gabriel agreste #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng

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lqvenderhqzes · 5 years ago

Text

Dark!Sherlock

I haven’t posted a log here in such a long time but I really enjoyed this roleplay and I’m hoping we can continue!

You: [TW: Abuse, violence, dark!sherlock.] Can you let me out? Please? I want to talk to you –JW John looked around the small room numbly as he put the phone down next to him, waiting for a reply that may never come. He had been locked in the cold and dark room for over a month now and he had not seen or heard anyone, not even Sherlock in that time. He was tired and hungry. Food came every two days and there was always water. John could feel himself going insane with touch starvation and the constant fear that Sherlock would forget him and leave him in the room to die. John had stumbled on Sherlock killing a young man who had been tied to a table and cut almost to the bone in some places. John had been sick at the sight of Sherlock’s wicked grin as he watched the taller man slit the young man’s throat and used John’s moment of weakness to knock him out. He had woken up the next day in the cold room and a note saying he was going to be kept there until Sherlock decided on his fate. (dark!lock, Sherlock has locked John in 221c with a phone that will only text Sherlock and a bed after John found out Sherlock kills people for fun.)

Stranger: Sherlock had to admit that this was probably the least desirable outcome he had been anticipating when John had first started working with him. He didn't have any particular interest in killing him or locking him away as he was doing now, and, although he would be hesitant to admit such a weakness, had even come to consider John a friend. Even worse, as time went on he soon found that he actually /cared/ for the man. It was only when that realization struck that the thought of killing him to rid himself of this weakness even crossed his mind, but that idea had been dismissed just as quickly as it had come. This posed quite the problem for him when John, as nosy as he was ended up catching sight of him in the middle of a kill. It wouldn't do to have John around to blab about what he'd seen...but he couldn't bring himself to kill him either. So, the next best alternative was keeping him locked in 221C. Practically speaking, everything was going perfectly for Sherlock so far. John Watson didn't have much of a family to be worried about his well being, and there were few that questioned his decision to move out of 221B and out of London entirely somewhere further South. It helped that Sherlock kept his blog frequently updated about what he was up to, being sure to mention visits from Sherlock from time to time. Yes, in that regard, everything was going perfectly according to plan. The only problem came from the thing that frequently bothered him about John Watson which were those feelings he had for him. Each day he promised himself that he would end his own, and likely John's, misery, but could never quite bring himself to do so. The truth of the matter was that he /missed/ him. He missed having him on cases, missed their antics together and John's little quips. He missed seeing reminders of John's presence in the flat. But of course, the man had been stupid enough to walk in on him at exactly the wrong time. Letting him go wasn't an option now, and John had no one else to blame but himself for that. Sherlock was angry at John for forcing him to do this, of course, but it was undeniable that even as infuriated as he was he still missed his company, which was what made the last text from John particularly troubling. It would be dangerous to go and talk to John now, surely. And he'd already made it quite clear to himself that letting John out wasn't an option. And yet...it really was rather tempting, just to be able to see him again. But no. He had to remain strong, couldn't let himself fall for any of John's tricks to escape. Then, after a few minutes of careful deliberation, he settled on a sufficient reply for him. Your phone should be a perfectly suitable method of communication. SH

You: John's hands trembled as he placed down the phone and waited for a response, every second of every day he was scared that Sherlock would leave and never come back. He was worried that he would forget about him and he would die down here. But, food kept coming and that was enough for him to know that at least Sherlock didn't want him dead. Just staying alive right now was important, if he could manage that then he could potentially get out of here. He had tried everything, the first few days down here were spent searching for any way to get out, but he had tried everything and there was nothing. Nothing but this room, not even a bed or a blanket and it was getting colder.

His thoughts often wondered because there was nothing else he could do and he knew that Sherlock was likely to never let him out, he knew that he was probably going to die here, one way or another becuase Sherlock would fear that he would tell someone. John didn't know what he would do if he got out, probably just run as far away as he could and never even look back. He didn't think he could tell anyone. He wondered what Sherlock had told other people too, about where he had gone, clearly no one had suspected anything because he had never heard anyone else coming to the flat. He hated that he missed Sherlock too, he missed any company really, but he had cared deeply for Sherlock.. they were friends, they were close and all of this hurt. All these feeling swirled around in his head as he waited for the reply. It didn't take long and he reached for the phone again from his spot curled up in the corner, trying to keep as much heat in as he could as his shaky hands replied to the message. Okay.. Okay. I just wanted a blanket, something warm.. I'm really cold. JW

Stranger: Frustration was quick to grip Sherlock when he received yet another message from John, scrambling to open it only to find that he was asking for a blanket. The gall, honestly! As if he was going to let him out just because he wanted a blanket. He wasn't interested in his company in the slightest. Then again, Sherlock wasn't exactly expecting him to be either. He was far from delusional, after all. The last person that John was probably interested in seeing was his current kidnapper who also happened to be his former flatmate and friend and a serial killer. He was tempted to let the conversation end there, to not give in to John's requests. What reason did he have to give him anything but the bare essentials to stay alive? And yet...well. It was very possible for the man to die from the cold. And what was he to do if that happened? Not to mention the fact that there might have been some small part of him that still hated the idea of John being /too/ uncomfortable all alone in 221C. There was no denying that he needed to learn a lesson...but perhaps he could spare him some unnecessary cruelty. He took longer to reply to that second message than the first as he fumed while sitting in his armchair, trying desperately to not glance over to the empty chair across from him where John would usually sit. You can have one the next time I come to bring you something to eat. SH

You: Maybe he shouldn't have asked for the blanket, Sherlock was taking a while to reply and it made him anxious. Shit, he didn't want to make him angry. He was probably going to say no. He chewed on his lip and curled in tighter, maybe it would be better to just die here.. he wondered if Sherlock would even care. He didn't even know what the other man was thinking, he could no longer read him and everything he had previously said all felt like a lie. He had cried too much about the past while being here, he had gone through every emotion and now he just felt numb. He gripped at his trousers and then at his jumper, as if that would help the cold or all these feelings at all but they did. He felt so scared and unsure about how he could get out. He didn't know what he could do to escape and that hurt. He hated all of this, he hated Sherlock more than anything. He wanted to hurt him like he had been hurt, he wished he could just grab him and hit him until he felt better. But he knew that Sherlock wouldn't come anywhere near him, he was never going to be let out, he desperately needed a shower too but ther was no chance of that. Finally, his phone lit up in light of a message and he took in a breathe of relief as Sherlock had agreed to give him one. Thank you, thank you. I really appreciate it. I'm so cold, I can't feel my feet right now. JW

Stranger: Sympathy. Was that what John was trying to get from him now? It had to be, otherwise he wouldn't be complaining about just how cold he really was. Sherlock hated him for such a poor excuse of trying to get him to crack. He hated him even more for the fact that it might actually be /working/ too. He'd known for a while he had gotten too close to Doctor Watson, but this was simply ridiculous. Why should he care just how cold John was? The basic necessities. That was all that John needed. No, that was all that John deserved for that little stunt he pulled. Sherlock couldn't help but wonder if John was doing this to him on purpose. Surely he had to know the effect that he had on him, and here he was trying to take advantage of it! It was like he was taunting him with yet another reminder that not only was he not able to kill him, but he could barely keep him properly kidnapped either. He was half tempted to retract the offer of the blanket just out of spite but eventually thought better of it. Instead, despite his better judgement, Sherlock found himself replying with perhaps the very worst thing he could possibly say to John at the moment. He could barely even type the message out, deleting it only to retype it again several times until finally he forced himself to settle on sending it to him. What else do you need? SH

You: John didn't really know what he was doing, he barely even knew what he was thinking these days, his head was spinning and all he knew is that he wanted to get out of here. He wanted to stop thinking too, he wanted to stop caring about what Sherlock felt and what Sherlock wanted. He had seen the man cutting someone up in their living room, how could he still care about this man? But yet, he couldn't stop it. He wondered if Sherlock felt the same way towards him. The text that he recieved seemed to suggest that maybe Sherlock did feel the same, that he did care.. It took him back a little and he rested his head against the wall as he thought about what he needed. He had a long list of things that he needed but he didn't dare say all of them because he knew it would make Sherlock angry and in order to stay alive, the situation needed to be calm. He no longer knew what Sherlock was capable of. He hadn't even seen the other for a whole month, the image of him was starting to fade a little, it was concerning. A shower? A change of clothes? Some company.. anything. JW

Stranger: Although he hated to admit it, Sherlock felt a rush of anxiety as he waited impatiently for John's response. It had been a ridiculous thing to ask of him and he'd known of it. What did he think he was doing, asking John what he needed? John should just be happy with whatever he was given and grateful that Sherlock was letting him live for now. Honestly, did he even know how much trouble it was keeping him alive? He had to fabricate everything perfectly so that no one would suspect anything amiss with him. Not to mention the fact that he had to keep anyone from going anywhere near 221C, which wasn't particularly difficult to do, but he had been nearly caught going there on at least two separate occasions by Mrs. Hudson. Being this careful was...annoying, to say the very least about it. But he'd convinced himself that it was worth it to keep John alive for the moment. When John finally did reply to him he could feel his heart skip a beat in his chest and he forced himself to swallow down a heavy lump that had formed in his throat. Showers were certainly out of the question, but perhaps he might be able to arrange for a bath if he brought down enough water...though that could only be done while Mrs. Hudson was away, of course. He made a mental note to work out the details for that later...it was a privilege he could consider giving John, at least. A change of clothes could be fairly easily done, even if it wasn't strictly necessary. Possibly once every week or two. But company...? Well. That was what was really sending Sherlock's heart racing. Did John know just how much Sherlock wanted to see him again? Surely he couldn't possibly feel the same way. No. More than likely it was just a plan for escape...but even so, Sherlock found himself struggling to resist the temptation to see him and speak to him face to face again. It was enough to make Sherlock chew his lip in thought, though eventually thought it best to just ignore that request outright for the time being. No showers. Changes of clothes can be provided periodically. SH

You: The reply wasn't reassuring, it had ignored the part at the end.. he was desperate for someone to touch him and that was the worst part. He wanted to be held, to be comforted, he had never gone this long without just seeing someone or touching someone. It was hard, he had always been someone who needed company and to be stripped from it completely was painful. He forced himself up from where he was sittjng and paced the room a little, his hands constantly scratching at his skin and going up to his hair. He had almost forgotten about the text until he saw his phone and he knelt down to grab it again. Okay, thank you. JW He sent the text before he sat back on the floor and tried to think. He just wanted to see Sherlock again, he wasn't even thinking about escaping anymore, his brain had apparently gone of on a completely different tangent that he was no longer in control of. It was one that was scary and strange. Why was he doing this? Why did he want to see Sherlock? The man who was a murderer and a liar and everyhing he hated. But yet, all he could think about was Sherlock coming down here and wrapping his arms around him. He chewed on his lip as he wrote out the text, a stream of thoughts just being typed out and being sent without thinking. I'm just lonely. Incredibly lonely and it hurts. I haven't seen anyone for a month, not even you, just want to see your face. I think I'm forgetting how you look. I just want to be touched, I am going insane I swear. JW

Stranger: For several minutes, Sherlock let himself relax with the belief that this would be the end of that particular conversation and that John wouldn't try to push him any further than he already had. It would certainly be the smartest thing to do in John's situation, Sherlock thought. But then again, he could never trust John to make the most logical decision. He'd always been a man to let his emotions take hold over logic, something that Sherlock hated equally as much as he admired about him. He'd never anticipated, however, that this would rub off on him. But as he sat there aching to see John once again he couldn't help but come to the conclusion that John had had more of an effect on him than he'd realized. By the time that John did reply Sherlock had just been about to get to work on his latest experiment - unable to help but hear John's voice scold him for leaving body parts in the fridge. Again. But Sherlock was surprisingly quick to drop what he was doing to read what John had to say, and almost instantly regretting doing so. His breath hitched in his throat as he reread the message several times to himself as though searching for any hidden meaning within it. Surely...surely John couldn't be asking him to visit just because he was /lonely/. He must have ulterior motives. Yes, of course he did. And yet, Sherlock couldn't seem to find himself able to care about that. The idea of seeing John again...the idea that John was asking specifically to see /him/ again sparked a certain warmth in his chest that refused to die out. Maybe...was it possible that John really did care? That he truly did just want to see him again? It wouldn't be the first time that John had surprised him, but he had to admit that the odds were unlikely at best. Impossible, even. And yet, here he was, unable to stop himself from practically pouring his heart out to John. It's been lonely here without you too, John. I've missed you. But you know I had to do this after what you did. SH

You: Sherlock missed him, Sherlock was lonely too. He could barely breathe for a moment as he continued to pace, clutching the phone in his hand as he tried to stay warm just by walking the room. It wasn't really working and he was looking forward to getting that blanket. He needed it. The last part of the text was playing in his mind too, he hadn't done anything, it wasn't his fault that he had come home early from work that day. He hadn't felt great and Sarah suggested that he went home and had a lie down. It was a massive mistake, everything would be different if he had just stayed at work that day. He could work with this though, he could get Sherlock down here and into his arms if he tried harder, if he begged more. He wasn't ashamed of it, he wasn't ashamed of his feelings or his emotions, especially not now. He knew that they would haunt him and come to constantly fight with him. He was going to let them win this time, so maybe Sherlock would just come and sit with him, talk with him, would that be enough? Would that help? What the hell was he thinking? He wanted to throw the phone across the room and watch as it smashed into pieces but then he would have nothing. I know and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I walked in on you.. I wish I never had. I wish I could turn back time. I just need.. to talk, to be with someone, I can barely feel anything anymore. JW

Stranger: There was no denying that Sherlock couldn't let John go now, not after everything he'd seen. But that didn't mean he couldn't be tempted to forgive the man for his mistakes. It shouldn't be so easy, Sherlock knew. The effect that John had on him was one that was thoroughly unfair. Just a few simple words of apology and he was tempted to rush into his arms and forgive him for everything he had done and all the pain that he'd caused him over this past month. Somehow, there was absolutely nothing he wanted more than to forgive John and assure him that it was alright. Not that it would change anything about his current situation, of course, but perhaps it could relieve some of the guilt John had to be feeling about walking in on him like he had. I know you are. SH Sherlock paused for a moment, considering his next response to him carefully. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to see John again and that John's request and apology was just the encouragement that he needed. Yes. Apologies and good behaviour and what not really ought to be rewarded, shouldn't they? And if company was what John was asking for...it wouldn't be so hard to give him that, would it? It couldn't hurt. Even if John tried to escape he was undoubtedly weak from cold and a little bit of hunger at this point. Sherlock would easily be able to overpower him if he had to. The only real trouble was coming up with a time when it would be safe to visit him. So long as Mrs. Hudson was out of her flat for the majority of the day and he didn't have a case, however, Sherlock supposed that it couldn't hurt to visit John for just a few minutes... We can talk the next time I bring you down some food and your blanket. SH

You: The response was far from unexpected and he found that his hand clasped at his mouth and a small sob left his lips. He was that desperate for something that he could barely even handle this, how would he cope when Sherlock actually came down and he could actually see him. He would be a mess, he curled back on the floor and tried to get himself back to some sort of calm, he needed to get a control of everything before Sherlock came down. Food and a blanket and Sherlock. Perfect. He grabbed his phone and smiled to himself as he wrote out a reply. Great, thank you. I really appreciate it, you have no idea. JW Placing the phone on the floor, he sighed a little and wiped his eyes again before he closed his eyes and moved to lie on the floor. It was hard and every bone in his body hurt from sleeping on the concrete floor but it was all he had, at least he would soon have a blanket to cover himself with too because the floor was even more cold. He shivered a little but tucked himself up as tightly as he could and tried to settle, he was apparently tired because he fell asleep before he could even think anymore.

Stranger: There were a number of things that Sherlock thought that John ought to appreciate, the fact that he was still alive being one of them considering the fact that it would be so much easier for Sherlock to just kill him. Yet, here he was, keeping John alive and making sure he was /comfortable/. Definitely something that John really ought to appreciate from him, but this was as good a place to start as any. Determined not to tell John anything more than he already had, Sherlock resolved to set his phone down and continue working on his latest experiment. Unfortunately, his thoughts were frequently distracted by images of John flashing through his mind. John, who just might be happy to see him as he came downstairs baring food and a blanket for him to sleep with. Maybe even two, if he was feeling generous. If this visit went well, he might even consider giving him something to do...a couple books to read to occupy his time, for example. There wasn't too much damage that John could do with books after all, apart from perhaps giving himself a papercut. But that really would depend on just how well his visit to see him went. He couldn't just give him such things for doing absolutely nothing, after all. He'd have to earn them from Sherlock, though Sherlock suspected that at the moment he seemed up for the task. John was still quite desperate right now, after all. If he wanted to make visits a regular occurrence he'd have to make a point of ensuring that John continued to stay that way. Best for him to think that he didn't stand much chance of escape - which he didn't, of course. Sherlock was still doing a perfectly good job making sure of that. Thoroughly distracted by his eager thoughts about seeing John again, his head swimming with ideas about what he'd say to him - and reminding himself not to be too harsh on him - Sherlock all too quickly abandoned his experiment on the kitchen counter and instead chose to pick up his violin for the first time since that fateful evening. It always had helped him think, after all, and he was certainly going to need all the help he could get with preparing what he'd say to John.

You: John slept for a while, he had lost all sense of time so he no longer knew when the right time was to sleep. He guessed that food came around abouts dinner time, so early to late evening but even then that was just a pure guess. Sherlock could easily be just giving him the food to have whenever regardless of time. But that's what he generally took as being evening so he would often eat and then sleep properly until he naturally woke, hoping that maybe his body was aware of the time more than him. He often had naps too, mostly because he had nothing else to do. He was tired a lot also, he guessed the lack of food didn't help and made his energy run extrememly low. His mood also wasn't great either which made him feel more exhausted. When he woke, his thoughts went straight to Sherlock and he realised that he had no idea what he was going to say. He felt worried about it suddenly. What could he say really? Maybe he would just let Sherlock take control of the situation, that seemed like the most ideal thing to do and therefore he couldn't take a step wrong. That was the last thing that he wanted to do. He didn't want to upset Sherlock or make him angry so he would le thte other lead. He paced the room a little, it had to be dinner time soon, his stomach was growling in hunger and he felt desperate as he waited. It felt like forever. Eventually, he curled back in the corner and tried to stop feeling so hungry and anxious, chewing the inside of his mouth till he tasted blood.

Stranger: Although Sherlock did make an effort to be consistent in regards to the time of day that he would give John his meals there were times when he would provide him with them earlier or later than usual. Given how eager Sherlock was to actually see John again, it was of no surprise that Sherlock decided that today he would bring food down to John earlier than usual. Not to mention the fact that it conveniently lined up with the time that Mrs. Hudson would go to visit Mrs. Turner today. So, it was only a little after midday that Sherlock found himself prepared with a plate of some leftovers of the food Mrs. Hudson had made for him yesterday and two blankets to bring downstairs. As eager as he was to see John, he couldn't deny that he was also just a little bit anxious...he had to be prepared for anything, after all seeing as John might react unpredictably to seeing him. But that was something to be worried about when the time came. For now, Sherlock just tried to remain excited about the fact that he'd be seeing John today. He'd even added a bit more than usual to John's plate of food for the special occasion, something which he hoped wouldn't slip past John's notice. Once he felt like he'd steadied his nerves enough, Sherlock began to make his way downstairs, keeping quiet out of habit. It was only out of politeness that Sherlock gave a small knock on the door before entering and quickly closing the door behind him. He blinked and squinted, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness in the room before his eyes fell upon John who had tucked himself away in a corner. All thoughts of what Sherlock wanted to say to him, everything that he had prepared seemed to vanish from his mind in an instant as his throat clenched at the sight of the man he had once called his friend in such a pathetic state. He did his best not to let his features betray any of his emotions, however, and instead hesitantly cleared his throat as he set down the plate of food, blankets, and change of clothes he had brought for him.

You: John heard the familar sounds of footsteps outside the door and his eyes opened wide. He stayed still though, almost like he was stuck to the floor. Instead of the food being pushed through the flap, the door open and he watched as Sherlock walked in. He stared at him, unable to even look away because this was real and Sherlock was here. He wanted to run into his arms, smell his shampoo and the shower gel that he knew so well. He wanted familairity and comfort, it was almost all a little overwhelming as he watched Sherlock. He knew he probably looked disgusting, his clothes were dirty and dusty from lying on the floor, his hair a mess and a lot of stubble on his face and he had already lost a lot of muscle, making him look more boney even under his usual jumper. He watched as Sherlock cleared his throat and set down the items, he didn't know what to do first, he just glanced across them all before he began to pull off his clothes. He didn' want to be in the dirty ones anymore now that Sherlock was here, why did he want to look nice for him? He pulled on the new clothes before he took the plate. "Thank you." He eventually managed to get out, his voice sounding odd as he realised he hadn't spoke out loud for a month. "Thank you, Sherlock, for coming here.." He added, he wanted to ask him to touch him, to hold him but instead he moved back against the wall and began to eat, noticing that there was a bit more food then usual and he looked up to smile at Sherlock. "It's good."

Stranger: The flat that he was keeping John in didn't offer much in the way of privacy - not that he really needed privacy since he was the only one here, of course - and so Sherlock did have the decency to cast his gaze elsewhere while John hastily changed out of his old clothes and into the new ones. That was just about the only time that Sherlock dared to look away from him, however. His gaze was quick to land back on him and follow his every move, equally as curious as he was suspicious about what John was planning on doing next. But now, John just seemed to be interested in eating....which he couldn't really blame him before considering the weight he had seemed to lose over the last month. Silently, Sherlock made a note to himself to try to feed John just a little bit more often than he was. A meal once a day when he could, at least. The genuine smile sent in his direction was enough to catch Sherlock's completely off guard. He blinked, unsure of what to say for a moment as he shifted his weight from one foot to the next, not particularly interested in sitting down on the floor. "Mrs. Hudson made a good supper last night" Sherlock agreed with a small nod of his head before falling silent again, momentarily unsure of how to continue the conversation and instead decided to just let John finish eating before moving on to properly talking to him.

You: Mrs. Hudson's cooking was always good but this was incredible, maybe he was just overly hungry, with the lack of cultery, he ate with his hands but he didn't mind. He didn't really care, he was that hungry that he basically shoved the food into his mouth but trying not to rush. He knew if he did so, it could cause issues and might make him sick which was the last thing he wanted. When he had finished the plate, it completely wiped clean, he placed it down on the floor and smiled again as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "That was very good, thank you for the extras too." He spoke softly. He shifted then and moved to take the blankets, almost gasping a little when he noticed that there was two. Two was perfect, he could lie on one and use the other to cover him. It would hopefully make sleeping a little more comfortable than it did right now, although he had got used to it a little. "Thank you." He said again as he clutched at the blankets, bringing them to him to sniff, they smelt a lot like Sherlock and the flat. It was comforting. Oh, he needed to touch Sherlock so badly. He put the blankets down and used the wall to get to shaky legs before he smiled. "I am.. so glad to see you."

Stranger: Sherlock's lips twitched into a hint of small smile as John finished eating and specifically thanked him for the extra helpings too. Of course, this was probably something John really ought to notice, but Sherlock couldn't help but be flattered by the words of thanks. There wasn't any doubt in his mind that John was just doing this to be kind, possibly to get on his good side so that maybe he'd do things like give him larger portions of food more often, but he did try his best not to think about that for now. Instead he focused on watching the way that John's eyes lit up at the discovery that he had thought to bring him two blankets in the absence of a bed. It was only when John stood to his feet that Sherlock found himself moving towards John, cautious of not approaching him too quickly before, despite his better judgement, he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. "I'm glad to see you too" Sherlock admitted softly, unworried about keeping John pulled close to his chest when he didn't have anything on him that might be capable of being used as a weapon against him. Instead, Sherlock allowed himself to become lost in the embrace, one hand lifting upwards to push some of John's growing hair back from his face so he could look at him properly.

You: The arms around him shocked him a little and he felt himself flinch a little under the touch, just from the shock and the way that his skin seemed to buzz underneath the others as he was touched. It felt so good, just to be touched.. to be held and his hands wrapped around Sherlock's too, letting out a soft sigh as the other said he was glad to see him. Oh, he had missed him. His nose nuzzled to his neck for a second, taking in the scent of his shampoo and shower gel, just like he had imagined. He let Sherlock pull away a little and watched as he moved a hand to brush away from his face and he bit his lip a little, trying to stiffle the small noise that left his lips from being touched so intimately. It was nice, it was better then nice and his legs felt weak at the small touch that he recieved. "Sherlock.." He whispered but he wasn't sure what he wanted to say so he didn't say anything else but just stared at the other, his hand reaching to touch Sherlock's and stroke up and down it with a soft sigh leaving his lips. Sherlock skin felt good, soft..

Stranger: Despite the rather sub-par living conditions, John was still surprisingly familiar to Sherlock. There was something comforting about his presence, and just like he feared, he hadn't realized just how much he truly missed him until just now. Hearing his voice again, even if it was just saying his name was like music to his ears, filling in a gap that he had tried to refuse to acknowledge existed. And John, somehow, seemed just as eager to see him again in spite of everything he had been through...not that it was entirely Sherlock's fault, of course. John hadn't exactly left him with any other choices. Sherlock was quick to let his hand wrap around John's and give it a gentle, and perhaps even reassuring squeeze. "I'm here" Sherlock assured him, keeping his grip on him firm and steady as if to say yes, he was here and no, he wasn't about to forget about him anytime soon. This wasn't how Sherlock had planned on this going at all, but he didn't seem capable of stopping himself. "I know that you're likely fairly...scared about what's going to happen to you right now...but I'd just like you to know that everything will be alright" So long as John didn't do anything terribly stupid, anyway.

#johnlock #darklock #john x sherlock #bbc sherlock #dark sherlock #dark!sherlock #johnlock rp #johnlock roleplay #roleplay #omegle rp #omegle roleplay #omegle #email rp #email continue

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zoerouse · 6 years ago

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I love you. I’m just not in love with you, anymore.

The stand outline of the undeserving douchebag that popped up in every romantic comedy that Zoé had ever seen. Those movies always ended with the female lead finding a new guy, a better guy and the two lived happily ever after.

Big fucking spoiler alert: Zoé Rouse’s life had never been very much like a movie.

She’d been staring down at her engagement ring for close to an hour. It had been almost four hours since the ring had lost any sort of meaning. Zoé could recall, right down to the last detail, the moment when she had seen the ring for the first time. Jacob had been acting strangely all night. A part of Zoé was convinced he was going to break up with her, so much so, that she had spent most of her evening trying to mentally prepare herself for the moment.

When he had instead dropped down to one knee in the middle of Hyde Park and asked her to be his wife, Zoé had been so stunned, it took her almost a full minute before the tears began and she told him ‘yes’.

The first people Zoé had called to tell the good news were the same people Zoé had neglected to call now, hoping to put off the conversation for as long as she possibly could. What if Jacob changed his mind? What if he realized how much he loved her? Zoé knew that once she told, once she admitted that her engagement was over, there was no going back.

Maybe, she just wanted to live in her quiet little bubble for just a few more hours...

Nine months.

How fucking oblivious had Zoé been that she hadn’t realized for nine fucking months that her fiance had been carrying on an affair behind her back? How had she not noticed that something wasn’t right?

Jacob had insisted that it wasn’t her fault, that she hadn’t done anything wrong, but Zoé knew that couldn’t be true. If she hadn’t done anything wrong, why had Jacob felt the need to look for comfort in another woman? Strike that, their relationship may have been salvageable had Jacob just been fucking the woman.

But no, the relationship was much more than that.

I think I might be in love with her.

The words still stung, like rubbing salt into an infected wound.

Zoé hadn’t even cried when he told he was leaving. He offered Zoé the apartment for a few weeks, enough time for her to sort a new place to live. He planned on staying at his girlfriend’s place, anyway. Jacob insisted their schedules were so opposite, they’d barely even see each other.

It would be like living with a roommate.

Somehow, they’d gone from the future Mr. and Mrs. Wilton to roommates in the span of an hour-long conversation.

Zoé had even let him hug her, listened to him express how sorry he was for doing this to her and how he wished things between them could have been different. He begged her not to blame herself, begged her to believe that she deserved better than him. She had managed a weak nod before Jacob unwrapped himself from around her, grabbed his work bag and left.

The sound of her phone buzzing on the table in front of her pulling her out of her haze. Event reminder? It took Zoé reaching and opening the notification for her to realize...

Had she really just gotten dumped the day before Valentine’s Day?

Dinner at 7 with Silas & Alice.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

How was Zoé going to explain this? Canceling plans the day before would surely lead to a long list of questions that Zoé didn’t have the heart to answer. She couldn’t tell him the truth, not yet. What would she even say?

‘Hey, so, you think we can reschedule dinner on account of my ended engagement? Thanks! Talk soon!’

Immediately, Zoé pulled up an empty message and began to type, then erase, and then retype and erase again. First excuse: forgot and made other plans. That was a bust, especially since Zoé was too fucking organized and didn’t ever forget plans. Second excuse: surprise getaway weekend. Also a bust, especially since Zoé was an avid photo taker and would no doubt draw suspicion after not posting or sending anything after twelve or so hours.

Third excuse?

‘Hey, I hate to do this, but I think one of the women at work got me sick. I really wanted to go to dinner, but I think it’s best we just scrub plans for tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to get you guys sick. About to pass out, but will talk more later. Sorry again.’

Send.

#( — self para. )#will title later #v day is bad for marriage/engagements/weddings aLWAYS #this ending is shit but like again wanted to post it xoxo

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iamsarsa · 6 years ago

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twitter thread about my thoughts on kh3 cos didnt feel like retyping it.

is this what getting old feels like? idk. it just makes me sad that a game I was once SO hyped for may end up being.... So Bad. I was pleasantly surprised by FFXV- however that had the luxury of having Nomura taken off it- and salvaged as best it could. I just get the feeling that because of how long it’s been, it’s less about ‘give the fans the game they’ve been wanting for years’ and more “just put something the fuck out and do whatever ya want!” idk. my thoughts are confusing. I do hope it’s good tho, there is a tiny shred of hope inside me it will be good for more than it’s game aspects and the story is decent.

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lostpioneer · 7 years ago

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Can’t Sit Down and Write? Same Dude

Alright, buddy, I’m going to lay this out flat on you, whoever you are. I’m absolute garbage at writing. I don’t just mean skill, I mean all aspects- Commitment, focus, grammar (though I try my hardest,) and pretty much anything you can think of, I’m bad at. I probably have more unfinished writing ideas than I have days left on this Earth, and I can never dedicate myself to just one idea. Even short stories, besides ones I wrote back in middle school that I pretend don’t exist, remain unfinished and collecting virtual dust in my computer files while I do literally anything besides write.

The one strength I might possibly have, though? I soak up anything- And I mean anything- that I can about writing. Tips and tricks, websites, apps, styles- Everything I can get my hands on. So here’s my grand idea: I’m going to write this blog in an attempt to help other people like me, and maybe even people that don’t have the same issues I have.

The way I see it is writing is a complex art- And just like in any other type of art, you want the best tools you can possibly obtain. Like paintbrushes for watercolor, or graphite pencils for visual art. Those tools help you do better in whichever focus you have, so shouldn’t writing tools do the same?

You can argue that writing comes from within, from years of teaching, and I get that and agree with it- but there’s nothing wrong with a little extra help.

So, here are some of my (im)perfect tips for perfect writing.

- Sit your ass down. I’m sure a lot of you have heard this one but I can’t stress it enough. It is an extremely important aspect of writing that can start as a building block for success. When you make yourself sit down at your desk and put pen to paper (or fingers to keys,) it helps you commit yourself to the project even more.

- Set word goals. There’s a lot of neat sites and programs that can help you keep track of your word and character counts, and these sites usually come with extra functions as well, so it never hurts to “shop” around. The point of this, though, is to have realistic goals. Of course, the end goal is to finish your paper, end the novel, or complete your short story, but you need smaller goals in between, especially if your project is a rather large one. Think like a chapter or two a day, or 1,000-1,600 words a day. These are just random values I shoot for, but yours don’t have to be as extensive- Just set the goal. When you get to a certain word goal, there’s a sense of accomplishment that can follow, and even sometimes you’ll have the urge to keep on trudging through it. Writing is also a pain sometimes, which is why word goals are so important- Set small ones if you get easily restless, or you don’t have a lot of free time to set aside. The important thing is having a goal you can reach, or at least get close to.

- Write first, Edit later. Now this may sound easier than it is, and for some people (me in particular,) I have an insanely difficult time not editing on the way. And sometimes that’s okay. I usually find myself just fixing a word or grammar error, like a missing period or misspelled word. What I mean about not editing is when you stop your writing and go back to review what you’ve done. This is okay if you’ve found a good stopping point or reached a goal, but to backtrack in the middle of a writing process can hurt your workflow and get your mind off the current task. As painful as it might sound, sometimes you have to grit your teeth and push through that nagging urge to double-check what you’ve done.

- Take breaks (if you need to.) If you’re anything like me, you might have a hard time sitting and clacking at your keyboard for more than 20 or 30 minutes at a time (I can barely manage that.) So the logical way to stop yourself from getting worn out is to just take a break. Watch a YouTube video, look at Pinterest or Tumblr, or IG- Anything you want. The key here is to give your mind time to process something different and keep it from getting worn out on the same thing. The other key is to return to your writing once you’ve given your mental muscles time to breathe. It’s a weird thing to balance, but if you can find one, it does wonders.

· Find a writing buddy. Now this is a recent one for me, but it also helps a lot with your consistency. Basically find a friend or relative that bears a similar interest in writing that you do, one that can go through the journey of writing with together. If you can’t find someone that will write with you, at least find a friend that can hold you accountable. A good way to do it is ask them if they can keep you responsible- Tell them what you’re writing, what your daily word goals are, what times during the day you’ll be writing. It’s a new experience for me but I 100% recommend it to anyone that struggles with staying committed.

- Find an idea and stick with it. This is probably the hardest one for me personally. I have so many ideas that I’d love to see played out in stories and novels, but I can never make myself focus on just one. And that’s the key- You have to find the one. Now, it doesn’t mean you can’t have other ideas, but unless you’re an amazing multitasker, you need to focus on the one that you’re working on then and there. If I had a dollar for any idea that distracted me from finishing another idea, I’d be rich enough to hire someone else to write this for me. (Not really, I’d probably spend it on candy bars or something, but you get my point. Right?)

So those are just a few ideas off the top of my head. I might come back to this post at some later date to add more if any come to mind, or just start a new post entirely; call it part two or something. But that’s it for now on the Tips!

So below here, I’m going to list some of my favorite apps/websites that enable writing, ones that I personally enjoy and why I enjoy them. Here goes:

- sta.sh: Nothing too special here, basically just a free writing tool that’s similar (though not as extensive) as Microsoft Word. The cool thing about it is that it’s 100% free, all you need is a DeviantArt account. Sta.sh is 1005 online and backs up your files online as well automatically. It’s all private as well- No one else can see your stuff except for you, and if you do want to show it off, it generates a shareable link for your projects. Another cool perk is that you can store stuff besides writing, like pictures or videos.

- Wordcounter.net: Kind of a similar format, but the importance of it is basically in the website name. It counts up your word and character counts, but also a few other interesting things, like how long it would take someone to read your material. The site also determines your “reading level” based on the type of words and such that you use (though you should take it with a grain of salt.)

- Draftin.com: A free online website that just lets you write. An interesting mode it has, though, would be the “Hemingway Mode.” When you select this, you literally cannot change anything. I mean it- Try to backspace, nope. Try to highlight a word to retype it, nope. You can only go forward- Which could be either the greatest or the most infuriating thing you’ll ever see. Either way, I think it’s pretty neat.

- HemingwayApp.com: You would think that this site would have been the ones to come up with that neat little perk, but nah. This one’s still pretty cool, though- it has a writing mode and editing mode. The writing mode is very simple- Just write, nothing special aside from basic editing like bold, italics, etc. But the editing part shows a few neat things: sentence length, grammar errors (to a point) how many adverbs you have, and alternative phrases you can use. It’s pretty nifty if you ask me.

- Writer.Bighugelabs.com: My oh my, this one takes the cake for me. Call me weird, but I’m a sucker for certain sounds, and the clicking sound of a typewriter is among my favorites. So this app makes your keyboard sound just like that, as well as saving anything you write in the browser. Any time you leave, it’s automatically saved, and anytime you come back it pulls it right back up. The app is 100% free, but there is a pro membership if you want to go above and beyond the normal benefits of it.

- Hanxwriter: Now this is an iPhone app that is pretty much the same as the one above- make your phone keyboard sound like a typewriter. That’s it. But if you ask me, it’s the greatest thing ever, so go take a look.

- WriterDuet: Now I haven’t dipped my feet too far into this one, but from what I’ve seen I’m impressed. Once again, a phone app (unsure if it’s iPhone exclusive) that assists with your writing, and it’s really helpful for structuring scripts and the like.

- Notebook.ai: This right here? This is the mother-load. I don’t even care what you’re writing, but you need to check this out. It’s a website that helps you collect all your world building ideas or even ideas for papers or essays. (Just mostly for world building) It asks you important questions about your universe as well, and there are too many awesome perks to talk about on this blog- Just check it out! You won’t regret it.

- cerey.github.io/fighters-block: This is a fun, cute lil’ app that can push you intensely, or just give you some polite nudges. Basically you set a word goal and you have to keep writing, otherwise, the big bad monster will beat you up. Like I said, kind of cute, definitely entertaining.

That’s about all I have for now! Like I said, I might come back to this post to add new stuff later on, but I’m fresh out of ideas at the moment. If anyone reads this, I hope I was able to help in some way or another!

Just remember guys and gals: Dedication is the biggest but most important step. Just write- worry about everything else later.

P.S. Let me know if I should add screencaps of these apps/websites, or if I should just leave it as it is. Peace!

#writing #dedication #sityourassdown #commit #tipsandtricks

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sleepyfantasy · 7 years ago

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Yoongi - Another You

Summary: A year after you broke up with Yoongi, he sends you a letter.

Getting home after a long day at work, you looked down at the mail near the door as you slipped your shoes off. It looked like the typical selection of bank statements, bills and adverts you normally received. When you picked it up, however, tucked behind one of the big A4 envelopes was a small, handwritten letter.

The address on the outside was written in blue pen, clearly written quite quickly, scrawling slightly across the page and you were sure someone more expert than you would be able to tell from looking at it that the person who wrote it was not a native English speaker, effort being put into forming each letter as it was not his first language. You didn’t need to be an expert to know that, however, because you recognised the handwriting. That was why you were staring at the writing on the envelope rather than opening the letter.

The letter sat on the kitchen side in your little flat for four days, never really letting you forget about it, before you decided enough was enough. You either needed to read it, or you needed to get rid of it.

That decision alone took an hour of staring at the innocuous looking envelope.

As soon as you had seen the handwriting, recognising it as Namjoon’s, you had been dreading the contents of the letter. You had fallen out of contact with all of the guys when you broke up with Yoongi. It had been too hard talking to them when you had to avoid him, but it would have been even harder to keep talking to him, so you just cut them all out of your life.

You missed them, of course you did. None of them had done anything wrong. You just had to leave.

Yoongi had even suggested that you try a long-distance relationship when you told him you had to go, but you knew it wouldn’t work. Even when you were living in Korea, only twenty minutes away from the dorm, it had been hard work to keep your relationship going. Being an idol, Yoongi was a busy man. You had never had a problem with it, knowing that you had known what you were signing up for when you started your relationship with an idol. The problem only came when you had to go home.

You had been offered your dream job back in your home country and you couldn’t say no. This was everything you had been working for longer than you could even remember. You had to go.

It was your fault you and Yoongi broke up and you knew it. You were aware that was almost certainly part of the reason you were so scared to open the letter. You felt guilty for causing whatever pain Yoongi went through after you left, inevitably hurting the other guys as well.

As much as you had been wanting to talk to the guys again over the past year, you stayed away. Every time you were tempted to pick up the phone, you remembered Yoongi’s face when you told him you were leaving and you needed to break up. Not a memory you were keen on reliving. Even though this letter brought back similar thoughts, you realised you couldn’t keep trying to ignore it forever.

Even so, actually reading it was another thing altogether.

The first step was opening the envelope. You held your breath the entire time.

Then the letter was out and in your hand. You even managed to unfold it, but your eyes just would not focus.

The handwriting was the problem.

And it wasn’t that you were out of practice reading Hangul. After your time in Korea, you didn’t think that would ever be an issue.

Nor was it that the handwriting was particularly bad. It wasn’t the best, but it was legible.

It was who the handwriting belonged to. Handwriting that you recognised even faster than Namjoon’s on the envelope.

It was Yoongi’s.

When you finally managed to start reading it, you didn’t stop until you got to the end.

Dear Y/N-(y)ah Y/N-ssi Y/N-(y)ah,

I know that I shouldn’t be contacting you. You probably don’t want me to.

I know you told me not to because it would make it harder for you, but I need to say this.

I don’t know yet if I’m ever going to send this letter, I just need the thoughts out of my head.

I love you.

I still love you.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop.

I’m sure you don’t think of me anywhere near as often as I think of you, but I hope you do sometimes, and you do it with fondness.

I understand why you ended us, why you had to, but that didn’t stop it from hurting, having to say goodbye.

I spent a long time after you left moping around and writing stupid break up songs that neither BTS nor Agust D will ever use. And nor should they. They’re not even good.

After that, I decided that if you didn’t need me, I didn’t need you and I could easily find a replacement for you, someone better for me. I started searching for that person, for my ideal type girl, because God knows that was never you.

And I found her.

I found a girl that fit my ideal type perfectly.

That only lasted about a week before I got annoyed and broke up with her.

A few more girls followed, all fitting my ideal type pretty well, each lasting less time than the last.

Then I tried just being alone. I did it for a long time before you came along and I was perfectly happy that way.

It seems I’ve forgotten how, though, how to be content without anyone by my side.

But none of my ‘ideal type’ girls could fill the hole you left behind.

It took me a long time, but I figured it out. My idea of what my ideal type girl was was messed up.

Just because that was what I had always wanted, that was what I had been looking for. But my ideal type was actually always you. You were everything I never knew I wanted, never knew I needed.

So obviously, knowing my actual ideal type, I went looking for my actual ideal type girl. I started looking for another you, preferably Korean. Someone who would be all of the things I liked about you, but who wouldn’t have to learn another language to communicate with me, constantly making mistakes. Someone who wouldn’t drag me home, whining, when I was trying to work. Someone who wouldn’t rub their freezing cold feet on my nice warm legs as I slept.

But you know what? I realised that’s not what I wanted either.

Someone like that would be nice, but they wouldn’t be you.

And I realised that I missed your cute blush when I corrected your Korean. And I love that you cared enough to learn a whole new language for me. And I realised you dragged me home from work because you were worried that I would work too much and make myself ill. (Which I did three times before I realised this by the way.) And I realised your little whines as you pulled me out of the door were actually really cute and I found myself trying to remember exactly how you sounded. And I realised that sleeping was a thousand times harder without you wrapped around me tightly, as if you were worried I might run away. And I realised my bed was way too hot without your cold feet cooling me down.

I realised that no one else is ever going to seem right to me after the perfection that was you.

My ideal type isn’t like you, it is you.

You are the only one for me.

If I do decide to send this letter, then I will have decided that I really mean this:

If you still love me, still want me, tell me where you live and I will be on the next flight there.

Send me your address and I will leave BTS, quit my position at Big Hit, I will drop everything and come to you.

I have enough money to buy a house for the two of us and I’ll get a job over there. Maybe I could be a producer?

Say the word and I will be there.

I don’t think I can keep doing this for much longer.

I stopped being a functioning human being a while ago.

Despite searching, I can’t find another you. There is no one out there as perfect for me as you. No one exists that comes close to you in my eyes.

I love you,

Please still love me,

Yoongi

The letter got harder to read as it went on, as Yoongi’s handwriting got worse and worse as he was clearly writing faster and faster, words flowing out of him, but also as tears gathered in your eyes.

You had assumed when you left, his life would go on as usual. Like he said, he had been happy for a long time before you and you had no doubt he could get any girl he wanted.

Of course you still loved him. There was no coming back from the kind of love you held for Yoongi.

Even as you were reading, you were pretty sure what you were going to do. However, you decided to wait a week. You needed to be completely sure you were doing the right thing.

A week and a day after reading the letter, you were in a taxi, wondering if you had made the right decision. When you reached your destination, you pulled out your phone as you got out of the taxi. Pulling up a chat with Yoongi, not for the first time since you left, you contemplated sending him a message.

You didn’t pay attention to where your feet were taking you. You didn’t need to. Knowing they knew the way, you focussed on your phone screen instead, typing and retyping a message to Yoongi. When you got to the door you were aiming for, you locked your phone and put it back into your pocket without sending anything.

Then you knocked.

For some reason, you hadn’t ever thought past this point. When you were planning this whole thing, you concentrated on the getting here, and now you were out of time to plan, as the door opened.

“Y/N-ssi!” Jungkook said as he saw you, eyes widening as he realised that you were here, actually right in front of him.

It took barely three seconds for Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung to rush to the door as well, having been alerted by Jungkook’s exclamation of your name. They were desperate to see if it was really you.

Realising that they were not the people you were here to see, Jungkook said, “Yoongi-hyung is in his studio.” He looked across to the studio door, indicating it to you as if you might have forgotten the room you had spent so much time in not all that long ago.

You nodded and turned to the door two along from the one the four of them were all gathered in. You knew they were still there even without looking and they may well have called over Namjoon and Jin by now too.

You stood outside his door for so long that Jimin dashed forwards and knocked for you before rushing back to the doorway with the others.

Your head was on the verge of turning so that you could thank him, when the door in front of you opened to reveal the man you were there to see. Immediately, your eyes met his.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight.

All this time, you had imagined him thriving, looking as well as you had ever seen him, if not better. Any time you had pictured him, which was a lot more than you would like to admit, you had pictured him happy and healthy and now you were presented with the very real picture of him as anything but.

He had died his hair since you had left. Several times, if the murmurings of your friends back home that were fans of BTS were correct. This was the first time you had seen it, though. Even though you knew it would have changed by now, you always pictured him with the soft pink hair you had last seen him with.

The man in front of you, however, had light silver hair, and dark circles under his eyes. He was much thinner than he had been when you left too. Peering behind him, you spotted that the sofa where you used to curl up while he worked was now topped with crumpled blankets and pyjamas. From the looks of it, he had been sleeping there for a while.

Honestly, you were worried.

Looking back up at him, you saw how he was holding his arms out towards you slightly, tentatively, looking like he wanted to touch your face. You stayed still, giving him time to move at his own pace, and when his fingers grazed your cheek, he jumped slightly as if he hadn’t quite expected you to be real.

Immediately afterwards, he sank to his knees in front of you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed his face against your stomach where you felt wet patches growing as he shook against you, crying.

You held him in place, glad to have him close after such a long time and hoping you could give him the comfort he was clearly requiring. Running a hand through his hair, you said, “It’s okay. I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Suddenly, you remembered the guys you had left in the doorway. Looking around, you confirmed that all six of the other members were now watching the exchange. If Yoongi had been himself, you knew that he would not want to be seen like this, so you gently pulled him to his feet and nudged him back into his studio.

Letting the door close behind you, through which you could hear the disappointed sighs of the other members having lost their view, you moved the blankets and Yoongi’s pyjamas onto one of the arms of the sofa before sitting him down at one end and taking your place on the other. Then you pulled on the arm closest to you, manoeuvring him to lay on your lap. He turned to press his face once again to your now damp top, revelling in being so close to you after so long.

You continued running your hands through his hair as he sobbed. Gradually, his sobs turned into a slight shake before stopping altogether. Since he didn’t make any moves to sit up, you left him there for a while even after he fell silent. Eventually, though, you decided it was time to talk.

You tapped his back and told him, “Jagi, do you think you could sit up now?”

He nodded against your belly before slowly making his way to a seated position, eyes red and puffy from crying, tear tracks running down his cheeks.

Before starting the inevitable conversation, you headed into the adjoining bathroom to the studio and brought out a damp face cloth, which you then used to carefully wash Yoongi’s face. His eyes didn’t leave your eyes as you did.

Placing the cloth to the side, you turned to face him, sitting cross-legged on the sofa across from him.

“I thought you didn’t love me anymore,” he said, tears gathering in his eyes again. “You didn’t tell me your address, so I thought you didn’t love me.”

“I could never stop loving you, Yoongi. I don’t know how.”

There was a hint of a smile at that, then he said, “Why are you here though? I told you I’d come to you.”

Sending him a gentle smile, you tried to explain. “I know, but you are meant to be here.” Looking around the studio, you added, “This is where you belong.” Then your eyes caught on the blanket and pyjamas you had bundled up to move them out of the way. “Not to sleep, though. For goodness’ sake, go home and sleep in a real goddamned bed would you?”

He almost burst into tears again at the sound of you nagging him.

“But you went home for your dream job?” He clearly wanted to get to the bottom of this, and you couldn’t blame him. Coming back to him like this, you had a million questions you wanted to ask, but you were aware that he needed this more than you right now. You could catch up more on how his life had been for the past year at a later date.

“Yeah, and I loved doing it for a year, but you being willing to give up your dream job for me made me realise I didn’t deserve you if I wasn’t willing to do the same for you. The reason it took me so long to make my move was that I needed to figure out if I could walk away from all that without regret or not.”

A look appeared on Yoongi’s face, somewhere between hope and fear.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t pick you, Yoongi,” you told him, letting out a little giggle at the relief on Yoongi’s face at that. “I should have picked you from the start. As much as I enjoyed my work, I should never have left.”

Before you could say anything else, Yoongi leant forward and pressed his lips to yours, one of his hands on your waist, the other on your cheek. Immediately, the two of you fell back into old patterns, well-practiced at being together like this.

When you pulled back, you said, “Now, you are going to come back to the dorms with me and I am going to make you a proper meal because it looks like you haven’t had one since I left.” Poking his belly, you emphasised, “There’s nothing of you.”

Yoongi smiled properly at that. You were so cute. This was just one of the million things he had missed about you.

“Honestly,” you continued, “did Jin forget how to cook while I was gone?” You laughed at your own joke, but you were distracted by the thought of how little Yoongi had taken care of himself, at least for the past couple of months. “And then you are going straight to bed, mister. In a real bed, not a sofa that does no good for your back. And then in the morning we are going to start looking for houses because you asked me to move in with you and this is me saying yes.”

Tears came to Yoongi’s eyes once again. He couldn’t think of anything else to say in response apart from, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jagi,” you told him, reaching for his hand and smiling as it wrapped around your own. “Now come on, get your arse moving because we’re going to have to go shopping if you want me to make your favourite for tea. And I’m going to have to buy everything because I bet you have no idea what’s in your fridge because I doubt you’ve been back in days if not weeks…”

As you ranted, nagging him that he needed to take better care of himself, he kept his eyes on you the whole time, thanking God for bringing you back to him.

Masterlist

#bts scenarios #min yoongi #bts suga #reader insert #yoongi/reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #kinda angsty

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strawberryremus · 7 years ago

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“I created a universe. I didn’t do it all on my own, but I don’t think it would have happened without me.”

It took a fair bit of convincing to get him to agree to meet me that day. Rain fell heavily as my town car entered the driveway; I understood why today might not have been the most ideal for an interview. Shielding my face and my notepad from the downpour, I scuttled up to the doorstep.

The doorbell sounded like wind chimes, and moments after I had rung it, a cheerful blonde woman opened the door.

“Ms. Rowling?” I said, reaching my sodden hand out to shake hers.

“Come in, come in!” Her voice was bright. She ushered me inside; the home smelled faintly of honey, and was beautifully adorned. “Can I get you anything? A towel, perhaps?” she asked. She hurried off into an adjoining room as I stood awkwardly in the foyer.

I was grateful for her allowing me to conduct the interview inside the home. I felt it would be important for the context of my story to understand the environment in which he lived. So far, it seemed pleasant.

Ms. Rowling returned to the room with a small stack of towels. “Sit down, dear. I’ll go fetch him for you,” she said, pointing me towards a lavish sofa.

“Actually,” I said, “I was hoping to see for myself where you kept him. If that would be appropriate, of course.”

She smiled; she didn’t seem fearful or nervous. “Certainly.”

Ms. Rowling and I walked through a wide corridor and into a room with several doors that seemed to lead in different directions. One door was labeled, in sweeping cursive, “Writing Study.” We took the door to the left of it.

I must have made a noise indicating my surprise, because she paused with her hand on the doorknob and turned to me.

“I can’t keep him in there. He makes too much noise and it would be impossible for me to focus,” she said, a hint of sadness on her warm face.

Slowly, she turned the doorknob and revealed a slightly dusty storage room.

“Dear?” she said tentatively, as we poked our heads in. “The woman from the newspaper is here.”

My eyes scanned the room, taking in the disarray of boxes and dinner chairs stacked disheveled on top of one another. Then, sat on a table in a corner by a curtained window, was an old, but undamaged-looking typewriter. A voice that I can only describe as low, gruff, and resembling the clacking of keys erupted from it.

“You horrible, devilish woman!” it yelped. I darted my eyes between the typewriter and Ms. Rowling, who wore a sad smile.

“Would you like to take him into the living room?” she asked me, ignoring the insults he had spouted at her.

“Yes, sure,” I said. I was unsure if I should take him in my hands, somewhat fearful that he would start calling me the devil as well, but she indicated that I should.

I made towards the curtained window and stuck a gentle hand under his base. He was fairly heavy, but luckily did not make a sound at my contact. I took him into my arms like a baby, still feeling rather awkward, and followed Ms. Rowling through the door.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” she said as I sat on the couch, placing the typewriter on the coffee table. Smiling her cheerful smile again, Ms. Rowling left through the corridor.

I cleared my throat nervously. “Er, sir,” I said, staring at the typewriter. There were golden decorations on either end of the carriage, making it look like he had thick, metal eyebrows. I noticed there was nowhere to make eye contact and settled for the space between the G and H keys. “I’m going to be taking notes during our interview.” He made no sound.

I produced my notepad from my back pocket and cleared my throat again.

“So, Mr. Typewriter, sir, would you mind beginning by telling me about the role you’ve played in Ms. Rowling’s writing career?”

The clacking voice came again, quite slowly. “I made her the celebrity she is today. Many years ago, I was young. I was naive.” The carriage moved as he spoke. “She purchased me from a shop in London where I had lived for several years with many others of my kind.” Ding. The carriage shifted back. “We spent our days praying that each ring of that bell on the shop door was the sound of someone coming to purchase us, to put us to use.” I couldn’t help but notice that he spoke quite like a dramatic story would be written.

He went on. “Naturally, when Joanne took me home, I was thrilled. I was so full of life back then. She used to talk to me, tell me how she was planning this grandiose story about a boy called Harry Potter, always scratching notes and drawing up charts and tables by hand.” Ding.

“Finally, one day, she got to work. Oh, the story was wonderful.” The typewriter made a sound that very closely resembled a sigh. “Each chapter about the boy revived me from any death I’d died while waiting to be chosen by an author, for I was an author, too. I fed her ideas, took her out of her writer’s block on bad days. We were the best of friends.”

He fell silent. I flipped through my questions, trying to find one to follow with. Instead, I settled on, “But, what happened?”

“Well, we created that first novel.” Ding. “And it was a masterpiece. I worked tirelessly to produce it for her, never letting my keys stick, never asking for a break when she was on a particularly long inspired whim.” Ding. “And when she went on to publish it, we were overjoyed. It wasn’t long before thousands of people were reading that story Joanne and I had produced.”

“You were happy then,” I prompted lightly.

“Yes, but then she betrayed me, left me to rot on a shelf, all because of one foul thing. It really showed me how little I had ever meant to her.” Ding.

I knew what he was talking about: computers.

The typewriter’s voice rose when he said, “I was the foundation of her career! She would be nothing without me!”

We spoke a while longer, most of the content of the conversation involving the typewriter calling Ms. Rowling rude names, lamenting about technology usurping his relationship with her, and shouting about the glory he should have received for the decade-defining book series. Eventually, I adjourned the meeting and called to fetch Ms. Rowling.

“Would you mind if I included an interview with you in the story? I think it would be interesting for readers to hear your side of things,” I said as she shut the storage room door, closing out the sounds of the typewriter shrieking insults at her.

In our interview, Ms. Rowling expressed that she always had a fondness for her typewriter, but it was true, the first Harry Potter novel was the only book she ever wrote on it.

“It breaks my heart when he says those things. I never wanted to betray him, but it simply became impractical to use him.”

I’ve never written anything on a typewriter, so Ms. Rowling explained to me the difficulty with transporting it and the way that you must retype any additional drafts you wish to make.

“He told me that he used to prompt you with ideas and feels as though you robbed him of credit for the story. What would you say your reasoning was behind choosing not to include a mention of him in the final draft?” Ms. Rowling suddenly looked to be very far away when I asked this question.

She wanted to make it very clear that she had heavily considered the idea in the publishing stages, grappling with herself many times before eventually deciding against it. “The truth, dear, is that, for a very long time, I was the only one he would ever talk to. Back in those days, had you come round here and tried to speak to him, he would have sat and stared back at you like any other inanimate object. I think he may have just been shy around others, but in those days I worried I might be mad. See, I knew he was talking to me, but I also knew that if I shared this with my publishers and editor, they wouldn’t have believed it nor let me put reference to him in the book.”

“Have you ever explained this to him?” I asked. She nodded sadly.

“Surely you can see that he isn’t nearly as quiet anymore. The trouble is, that wasn’t his greatest complaint. He has just been bitter ever since I started writing with a computer, even though he knows the computer doesn’t speak to me, so I couldn’t possibly have the same fondness for it as I do him.”

I understood where he was coming from, though. It is quite difficult to be convinced of something, even if you would like it to be true, if the facts presenting themselves disagree.

I thanked Ms. Rowling or inviting me into her home as I walked out into the showering afternoon. It seemed as though she had accepted success gracefully: her lifestyle was not ostentatious and she seemed like a very kind woman. I supposed that, regardless of how happy one might be with the things they’ve earned in life, there can always be trouble that comes with the choices that lead to prosperity.

#typewriterinterview #mine

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stargaze-sunflower · 3 years ago

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Hi bestie tysm, it’s 3am rn so I’m just gonna incoherently ramble about anything I’ve ever wanted to say about spk. This might be long absjjsja but hopefully it works out.

The spk au was formed when I listened to the song soldier, poet, king and decided to assign each of the triplets a verse. Everything else came after that. I think that this happened sometime in May 2020, so I guess it was like a seven month journey from then to when I started posting the fic in December ajdkksjahs. I wrote the whole thing on my phone bc I hadn’t gotten a laptop yet, and then I manually retyped everything onto the laptop when I got it.

Spk takes place in a medieval setting. Scrooge McDuck was the king of the kingdom, but he went into hiding after a war with Magica DeSpell ended in disaster. He’d sent Della and Donald away with newly hatched HDL when it was getting bad, but enemy soldiers caught up with them and got the best of Della. Only Donald returns to the castle, and both him and Scrooge assume that HDL were a casualty along with their mother when in reality, Della had managed to save them by hiding them in the wagon of some travelers. After Della’s death, Scrooge abandons his duties as king and goes into hiding, Donald leaves to handle his grief elsewhere, and HDL are separated and grow up without each other, without knowing who they are or where they came from. The only clue they have is a medallion that has been split into three equal pieces, and they each have one, though Huey isn’t aware of it until later. The story starts twelve years after the war, when HDL finally start to find each other. More about them:

Dewey in the au is the "Soldier", having run away from the orphanage when he was six and stowing away on Webby and Mrs. Beakley’s wagon. Mrs. B is something of a self-defense instructor, mostly teaching sword fighting, so she and Webbs travel around a lot. They let Dewey stay when they find him, because of course they do, so Dewey spends the next six years learning how to use a sword alongside Webby and traveling all over the place for Beakley’s business. The traveling is how he meets Louie.

Louie is the "Poet", unlucky enough to have grown up in a rundown village filled with shady people in an orphanage with only a few other kids. The orphanage shut down when he was seven, at which point he was left to fend for himself on the streets, having to learn how to con and steal and run and hide. (Maybe he had a mentor, at some point, to help him with that 😏) He struggles to survive for years before he finally meets Dewey, and it doesn’t exactly get easier after that shskskjsjsjs.

Huey is the "King" in this au, having been found and adopted by a defeated Magica DeSpell who hoped to have a bargaining chip to use against Scrooge in the future. Lena mostly took care of him until he could do it on his own, and though both Magica and Lena know where Huey came from, they never told him. Huey lives in a large house in a well-off village, and he visits the lab nearby often to do experiments and escape loneliness and hang around Gyro and Fenton and all those other science folks.

I TOOK A BREAK AND NOW IT'S ALMOST NOON NOW SO HERE WE GO.

When Magica finally gets sick and tired of not being able to find Scrooge to suitably threaten him, she hands Huey over into the custody of the Beagle Boys, who throw him in their wagon and take off across the country on their way back to Ma Beagle. They make a short stop in the same shady village that Louie happens to live in.

Dewey meets Louie when Mrs. Beakley's business takes them to his village. Webby buys an apple and Louie tries to steal it from her, but Dewey catches him. Webby lets him have the apple anyway and Dewey lets him go, but stumbles upon him later when he gets himself in trouble with the Beagle Boys. Dewey tries to save him, but they're both captured and thrown into the wagon, where they meet Huey. They're carted out of the village and away from help, and it's up to them now to save themselves.

And that's the setup for the rest of the story ajskdkfsd.

I included as many characters in the story as I could, especially the rather lengthy list of villains that Magica has in her back pocket. Launchpad was a lot of fun too asdjjksa but of course my favorite thing to write was the triplets and the relationships they build over the course of their adventure. The cave scene where they find out about the medallion always sticks in my mind the most because it feels like one of the biggest turning points. I think actually one of my favorite things about spk was Louie's slow journey to trust Huey and Dewey and accepting them as his siblings. I was really happy with that asjdksa.

Also one of my favorite little details that I didn't write much about was the fact that Louie's best friend was a cat. I love the mental image of young Louie feeding a scrawny little kitten and then it doesn't leave him alone after that. She follows him around and keeps coming back and Louie names her Knots because her fur is tangly and he feeds her scraps when he can barely feed himself some days. Maybe she rides in his hood and peeks up over his shoulder idk. I'm planning a Knots and Louie reunion for the sequel because they deserve it and I want to <3

Here's some random facts about the process of making spk.

Huey's vest was originally going to be a grey jacket, but it was too similar to Dewey's outfit so I changed it.

Dewey's undershirt was originally going to be black, but light blue made more sense and matched with canon so ajsdkkjasd

Before I retyped everything onto my laptop, spk was only around 90,000 words. I guess the other 10,000 just sort of happened when editing.

I was originally going to have Donald reunite with the boys at the end of spk along with Scrooge, but I decided to save that for later and focus on one at a time. The fact that he left kind of reflects what happened in canon after the spear of selene.

Its 2 in the morning my time for bad decisions. Gonna go out on limb. @stargaze-sunflower I want to hear all about your Ducktales Soldier, Poet, King au. Love hearing people rant and your au is so intresting to me.

#spk au #this starts out as a summary and then ends as fun facts askdkjas help #thank you for prompting me and giving me a chance to talk about it though :]#if anyone has any specific questions i'd be happy to answer dsajkds this is just a bunch of random stuff I thought of in the moment #theres a lot of new stuff planned for the sequel that i don't want to reveal yet #if only i could just finish it already sakdsk

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geek-gem · 7 years ago

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9:28 am so waited a bit but was looking on my dashboard. Even missed the submit button a bit whatever some Infinite gif I almost reblogged.

Again I had got out of the shower and I was thinking about this.

Honestly me enraged about the custom character the concept of it in Sonic Forces. Basically Buddy The Wolf that's been seen in official trailers also lots of people draw him.

Including I tried my best didn't get the green mic actually and finished the game without that. Yet I tried my best to make the character look like that. Because I had such a distaste for the idea of it. Including I didn't wanna be original and despite random shit in my head still being negative about the custom character.

Honestly and I might spoil stuff of Sonic Generations maybe. Really the role Buddy is put into is basically what I've wanted for an idea in a Sonic game.

Including the idea of someone new trying to stand up for what's right and Sonic being the big reason why anyone would keep going. Because of how his attitude and his outlook on life inspires people.

So those are possibly spoilers yet was gonna talk about this. Almost start it twice this paragraph and a new one what I wanted to type.

Honestly I always had this idea. Mainly instead of a custom character that's an animal like the others. It's basically a human a young adult mainly. Where the role is basically similar or kind of or is in Buddy's role.

I've been thinking that human part because it's possible that Sonic movie might have a main human character but I like it to be secondary to Sonic. Including the idea of this human being a badass able to use weapons and destroy Eggman's robots. Including I keep thinking examples of humans to be inspired from right now like Chris Redfield and Leon S Kennedy from the Resident Evil series. Also others yet those two have been on my mind because I like Resident Evil and it's been on my mind too.

Also it's because some humans have a track record of not being liked by a lot of fans. But I mainly speaking about Chris Thorndyke and Princess Elise while I honestly don't hate them. Including this year I learned they aren't that bad honestly like them a bit. But they aren't my favorites.

I thought the idea of a human who can take care of themselves and fight alongside Sonic would help people stop thinking humans suck in Sonic except Eggman or whatever.

Yet I have thought of the idea back firing because I can imagine people's reactions. I've been thinking of this for a long time and forgot if I wanted to talk about it.

Basically I can see people giving their honest thoughts and figure out why making a human character a badass doesn't work to appeal to people.

Talking about having a human character being given a gun and kick ass with Sonic doesn't automatically make them a better character. Making them a soldier or someone who can fight isn't gonna make them better then the likes of Princess Elise or Chris Thorndyke no hatred towards them. The character could ether suck or even be worse then them. I'm saying this if this actually happens. About a character could be worse if you of your own opinion didn't like previous characters.

What matters is the writing behind the characters. Their personality, their story, and what they mean towards to the main story too.

Honestly at times I keep thinking like a first person shooter or third person shooter gameplay. Maybe similar to the likes of Titanfall, Killzone, the Left 4 Dead series or the likes of the Resident Evil franchise mainly 4, 5, and 6, Dead Space or others. Basically been thinking Titanfall and Resident Evil. Or even Doom or yes Halo for that matter. Yes I mentioned Doom because been playing the original like yesterday and need to play the reboot again which is awesome since the game is now fully installed.

Yet with how Sega and Sonic Team are going. Despite Shadow The Hedgehog was made his game. It would be difficult probably to make gameplay like that. Because they don't seem to be at a stage now where they will do that.

Including in a weird way to be honest thinking of it I'll say it. The idea of it seems almost like self insert some what yet at times I didn't think that mainly just to fill the human thing. But I have put certain things like an Autistic character because I'm Autistic too for the character.

Just trying to remember anything. But also yeah I wanted to talk about this. Even thinking of the song Fist Bump while not my favorite. Yet when in the shower I kept hearing it in my head.

Honestly the way the song is written. It's kind of meaningful since listening to it, the song seems to be about Sonic and the custom character Buddy including how this song has a upbeat style to it. Basically in a way being inspiring unlike compared to Infinite's theme which I adore despite what the Shadow DLC showed and the main game too. Being a lot more serious and maybe less inspiring.

Honestly wanna mention this silly thing so a self insert played by KJ Apa at times one of the choices. Basically wanna make a post and jokes about Archie Andrews fights with Sonic the hedgehog, joins the Helghast from Killzone, fights the Chimera from Resistance, be casted as Jeremy Fitzgerald from FNAF and ward off animatronics, and be cast as Leon S Kennedy his younger self from Resident Evil 2 for that Resident Evil movie reboot universe if they stick to the games more. Yes that's a fan cast of mine.

Yes I watch and like Riverdale also it's this joke with I keep thinking Jughead going ARCHIE WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING BEHIND OUR BACKS

Honestly I like the actor and thought of him other things didn't say all of them.

So now with Sonic Forces out and my opinions being mixed. Including honestly I have thought of this when I was in the shower and afterwards. Basically the custom character is something I......seemed to like the best or just.....maybe more.

My friend fatpinkraccoon not gonna use the mention thing told me last night and replied to a message from him I didn't message because went to bed early by mistake. He told me Somecallmejohnny made a review and I thought seriously that was quick. Yet the game is honestly short. Including him talking about how the franchise needs new people behind it.

Yet I forgot if it was him respelt quick and put back the period in last paragraph. But sorry ticks yet I forgot if it was him I'm not risking getting out of this. But he might of said the custom character was the better parts of the game. Even with my mindset being negative.

But after being disappointed with other parts of the game. While gameplay is fun and enjoyable, the soundtrack is great and I've talked about more about this. It's the story I have a problem with. Including remembered that he told me not to have false hopes basically after I told him I'm not gonna hyped for a Sonic game after this.

Including him saying that even if Sonic Mania had fantastic reviews doesn't mean Sonic Forces would get any and he said he knew.

Also I wanna say this is basically my character development now. Me realizing the custom character is basically a form of something I wanted but not as a custom character. Yet the role of Buddy goes through things I like basically the concept of it said nice in head. While a lot of other things said everything in head but no not everything and random negative thoughts.

Basically the custom character seems to be the golden child of some sorts being in the mess of things. With some good stuff and bad stuff or just mixed stuff.

Even in my head I had thought of I never want the custom character again. Or the fact it might return honestly no it didn't suck.........

Was thinking I'm going to say that after my head said it sucked.

Really I am a hypocrite. While I have played other games where characters can be customized. Honestly theirs more whether story or not. Fine such as some Lego games, the Soul Calibur series I've seen people mentioned in a post about w certian c word I hate.

Yet the one game where I remember the custom character always goes to my head. Is basically the customization from Halo Reach where you play as Noble Six. Yet instead of a canon look or one that's seen in the trailers you get to customize the Spartan. Even also almost left work instead of look when talking about canon looks.

Basically you get to customize Noble Six. Even just looked forward for some reason. Basically the ending I don't wanna spoil it is a sad one almost left the word dad.

Okay in a way Halo Reach with that is something similar to Sonic Forces. Where your character is in cutscenes, in gameplay, and even people making versions of Red Vs Blue characters. The last season I've seen was season pressed some Google icon yet season 11 the series is funny but haven't seen it since despite it still going on.

It's amazing how my younger self seemed to not mind and liked customizing a Spartan yet Sonic it's the worst thing ever. Basically I had a hate on for the character being disgusted by it and just....I feel it be weird to compare it to a racist but okay back shook a bit.

Yet honestly the gameplay was enjoyable. But mainly played with the burst weapon just the drill isn't my favorite see just....I'm rambling.

The idea of the custom character returning oh negative thoughts. I just don't know may be nice just......

Sorry basically after wards nice or....I said that in my head.

Basically the custom character Buddy had a role I thought would like in any Sonic media and I hated it because I had false hopes like my friend said. Now that's what I remembered.

Think I should be done basically despite my head at times. I'm just so used to hating on the custom character it stuck with me maybe HOPEFULLY over time I be less hateful on it.

I kept retyping l and y for hopefully. Yet I'm so used to hating on the character and I want to like it more as time goes on. Maybe playing the game more. Yet the thought of making my own character no.

Yet I did with Buddy and....since thought in my head of changing it I've been thinking. Yeah I'm honestly attached to the Buddy The Wolf look we've been given that I don't want to change the character I hated the thought of changing it that one thought I don't want to lose Buddy.

Now okay theirs character development of me. Along with I should mention while I complained and critized of Buddy not talking and just.....I'm a fan of Doomguy and he's probably or one the original imagine yourself as the character those kinds of characters. Including how his actions speak louder then words. Also even other some what silent protagonists. Including I was talking about the main character from Doom.

Got tags done just don't take took off Sonic Forces spoilers and put it at the end almost took off the one before that. These mentions are getting stupid.

Seriously the game has been an emotional rollercoaster and my supposedly character development warming up to the custom character is coming into more of a reality even with my mindset 10:28 am just sorry have issues

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic forces custom character #sonic forces #sonic forces spoilers

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theinboxmemebook · 8 years ago

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Possibly making a new RP blog? Follow this tutorial!

Hello! Have you been possibly wanting to start a new RP blog, but have never done so before? Well you’re in luck! I’m here to show you the ropes on creating your very own RP blog! I will be putting it under a read more, since this post will indeed be long!

Let’s begin!

First off, I will go over the necessities of an RP blog. You are required to have these in order to launch your RP blog into effect.

1. URL

Before you even make the blog, coming up with a URL can be rather tough. If the character you are RPing as doesn’t have their name as a URL claimed yet, claim it. Having a Canon URL for an RP blog can be very useful with getting out there, especially if of a well-known franchise, because it grabs the attention of other RPers. Even if your character is original, try to claim their name if possible.

Some alternatives if this doesn’t work: Make your URL a brief description of them. Some examples, such as Mario from the “Mario Bros.” franchise could be named “redplumber”. Just experiment until you find one that sounds well enough and can describe your character.

Some side notes:

If you are multimuse, a good suggestion is their name as a group. For example, continuing with the “Mario Bros.” franchise, you could be “mushroomkingdomkeepers”, or “bowsersminions”.

Some people tend to put “c”s and “x”s in placement of vowels in URLs if the URL they want is already claimed. So, if “redplumber” was taken, you could be “redplumbxr”.

Despite all of the examples shown, you can have dashes in your URL. “red-plumber” can also work.

2. About/Rules page.

There is a 99% chance you won’t get anybody to do threads with you if you don’t have one of these. (Or both, depending on the strictness of people). The about page can describe you, the mun, alongside with your muse. Remember, your AU, your own muse will be different despite canons. Be sure to list off any nicknames, fears, likes, dislikes, etc. for your character.

A good source to fill out for your muse to put in your about page: http://slytherinsheiress.deviantart.com/art/Very-Very-Basic-Character-Sheet-340098566

Another good thing to put in your about page is what type of style you RP in. There’s many different styles of RPing. These can include: One line, a few sentences, paragraph, multi-paragraph, novella. Your styles will vary, so be honest and put the one you most normally do.

Most script-styled RP blogs will use either One line or a few sentences, while story-styled RP blogs will stick to paragraph/multi-paragraph responses. Rarely will you find a novella style RPer, however, they tend to be very high quality.

As for your rules page, don’t be afraid to list off things that make you uncomfortable. People need to know the boundaries they need to respect when RPing with you. If you don’t say a thing about them, then chances are it can possibly happen.

Some really good ideas to put in your rules:

Specify if your muse(s) is interested in getting into a romantic/sexual relationship Specify if you’ll do NSFW RPs. Specify what your requirements are for RPing with someone (Rules page, types of replies, possibly.) Be sure to try your best and be descriptive. Just don’t be too much, or you can come off intimidating.

Side notes: For most people, their RP style is somewhere around paragraph and multi-paragraph, and they will normally be okay with multisentence replies. Rarely will you find multi-paragraph RPers that tolerate one-line replies.

3. Introductory post.

As for your introductory post, this is the first thing most people will see off of you, and probably your only post that will get reblogged by multiple people. You want to make sure that it’s appealing. Most formats of RP blogs tend to have this style for their introductory post:

(Picture of their muse(s))

(Brief description of muse(s), or quote(s) that describe muse(s))

(Describing the blog you are running, basically, keeping the “Mario Bros” example: “RP Blog for Mario from Super Mario Bros.”

(links to their Rules/About/Ask pages)

Side notes: Pictures mostly stay as edited versions of canon pictures, if said character is canon.

Pictures will say what type of RP blog you run aswell.

There are mainly 4 types of RP blogs you can run. Well, technically 3.

Not Selective: You are willing to RP with literally anyone that goes into your inbox. And you mean anyone. This includes crossovers from fandoms that you may not be familiar with. Any style of RPing would be permitted.

Semi-Selective: You are willing to RP with people who are within your boundaries of fandoms, maybe even some other fandoms you are familiar with. You will generally search through their blog yourself before deciding on doing threads with them.

Selective: You will pick the people you RP with, and you are very strict and closed about who you do threads with.

Private: RP blog was most likely just made to RP with a few friends, and you have a very low chance, probably less than 1%, of starting a thread with them if you aren’t already their friend.

4. Interactions

This part will be a little short, mainly due to there being only 1 point to this. There may be people that come to you, requesting threads due to your introductory post. There are no guarantees, however. You will need to branch out and locate other RP blogs that catch your interest if you want to start threads. Not just that, but you’ll start threads with people you enjoy, as well. If you’ve been wanting to make an RP blog to try and interact with that one semi-selective person, now’s your chance to go for it! Be sure to read their rules, however, to make sure that they’re open to discussing possible threads with new people. Some people aren’t cool with getting stuff like that in their ask box/messenger.

Now, we can move onto the optional things!

5. Icons

Icons will be a picture of your muse doing an emote that you can place into your threads to give it more life! People will see visibly how your muse is feeling by the actions that just happened to them before, and it gives a clearer image of how they feel. Most of these you see before the muse says dialogue, and most icons end up showing different emotions. Most blogs normally have a handful of them.

WARNING: DO NOT STEAL ART AND EDIT THEM TO USE THEM AS ICONS. YOU MUST ASK THE FORMER ARTIST FOR PERMISSION TO EDIT/USE THEIR ART AS ICONS. IF THE ART IS YOUR OWN, YOU MAY PROCEED. IF THE ARTIST AGREES TO LET YOU USE THEIR ART, YOU MAY PROCEED. IF THE ARTIST SAYS “NO”, DO NOT ARGUE, AND FIND OTHER POSSIBILITIES. Artists can get distraught from people not asking permission before using their art for RP blogs. Please be sure to ask and receive permission before using it. Canon pictures are permitted.

6. HTML

While also not a requirement, you may notice the amount of RP blogs that have smaller text in their replies than most Tumblr text posts. In order to achieve this small text size, to reduce the overall size of your thread on everyone’s dashboard, you must do the following:

- Make a new Text Post

- Click on the gear on the upper right corner

- Click “text editor”, and click “HTML”

- To get small text, type in before you type your words, and afterwards.

- Be sure to type in at the end of a paragraph and retype upon a new paragraph.

- Example: There was always a short amount of time.

Your RP partners will appreciate this!

7. Trimming

If your posts aren’t trimmed, chances are, you won’t get so many threads. Be sure to trim your threads after a couple of replies, because if you don’t, your followers will have to suffer scrolling through the longest dashboard ever! I made a tutorial on trimming posts on my main blog quite a long time ago: http://ask-the-fnaf-cast.tumblr.com/post/152133123381/tutorial-on-trimming-rp-posts

I hope this post has really helped you begin setting up finding the key to unlock your door in the RP universe! Please also remember the singular most important thing in running an RP blog: HAVE FUN!

#rp blog #tutorial #roleplay blog #roleplay psa

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