#n gets his point across primarily through the battles hes looking to end ; or at least minimalize | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strayfoxxchan · 2 years ago

Text

Team [Crush] Tactics

Pairing: Bang Chan x f!reader

Genre: Fluff, Major League Gaming AU lmfao

Content Warning: Some cussing, awkward flirting

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: There's lots of gaming stuff in here, sorry! But I try to explain TFT in noob terms for those of you who haven't played.

Tag List: @minnysproutgriffinteddy (It wont let me tag you!)

The crowd was going wild. Thousands had crammed into the arena, their faces glowing with pink and blue lights from above.

The stage felt too high, and the monitors over your head seemed too massive to comprehend. Your palms were clammy, slipping off the mouse in front of you. You shake them a few times, hoping to dry the sweat and clear the knot building in your throat.

“Hey, cowboy up,” Cameron, your teammate, punches you in the shoulder. “We’ve got this, and these guys ain’t shit.” He looks across to the opposite end of the stage and sneers.

“Stop sneering,” you grumble at him, rubbing the spot he’d hit with more force than he’d likely meant to. “You’re embarrassing me.” You feel yourself shrinking into the uncomfortable gaming chair. Ergonomic, my ass.

A lot of Team Fight Tactics is strategic: building into character types to gain bonuses for your team, understanding where to place each character on the board, and leveling them up to acquire more health and hitting power. If you play your cards right, so to speak, you can wipe the board in a matter of seconds. But much of it also comes down to lucky RNG and quick thinking.

You know the only way you’ll win this is to calm down and keep your head straight. You have no time for intimidation when the timer is running. Although you play on a team of yourself and three men, Team Fight Tactics is primarily a solo endeavor. Ultimately, you’re also playing against your teammates to win.

The announcers are chatting amongst themselves over the incredibly loud speakers, preparing the audience for the battle ahead. Before you know it, they’re announcing the teams. As each member of your team called, they stand, wave, and dance, grinning cockily. When the announcer shouts your name, you simply stand, give a nervous smile, and throw a peace sign at the crowd, earning you an eruption of cheers and whistles. As quickly as you had stood, you are back to sinking into the chair.

You stare at the opposite team as their names are called.

This is the first time you’ve heard about this team, and you’re positive they’re never heard of you either. It was your first MLG tournament, after all, and it seems to be theirs as well. They look triumphant, proud of themselves for having made it to this point. Their names float through your ears as if in a dream.

But, the last name is called, and instead of pumping up the audience as his other teammates had, he stands, looking directly at you, and winks before sitting back down. Bang Chan, they had said. The name sticks in your mind.

Before you realize it, the match has started. The carousel is turning, and your eyes dart across the screen, looking for Brawlers. You spot her instantly: Vi walks the carousel haughtily. As the barrier drops, you run. Score.

Each time the shop pops, you pull as many Brawlers as you can, throwing in whatever Laser Corps champions you can get your hands on. The timer, in the beginning, gives you some time to sort out items, and the auto battles allow you to survey the other team for a moment or two. Around round 3, you look up during the battle, and Bang Chan looks up at the same time. He grins at you and winks again, the overhead lights glow on his dimples. Your heart skips for a moment before your eyes dart back down to the screen.

“Is he trying to intimidate me?” You say to yourself.

“Who?” Cameron glances at you, raising a brow.

“What?” You could have sworn you used your inside voice.

You continue building your team to the best of your ability. You manage, with some lucky RNG, to grab Mordekaiser, building into him as much as you can. It’s a near unbeatable combination, and your confidence begins to grow.

Bang Chan’s name shows up on your screen. It’s time to knock that wink right out of him. The battle ends quickly with you on top. Your killing streak hits 9. As it ends, you look up at him and wink. His frown slowly grows into a smile full of fire, eyes narrowed as if to say “You’ll pay for that one.”

Your teammates are dropping like flies. Their overconfidence has done nothing to benefit the team. The opposing team still stands fairly strong. You’ve been stuck at 90 health for almost 11 rounds. You manage to hold your own for a few more rounds before things begin to go wrong.

It’s 2 against 1. Bang Chan and his teammate, Felix, are still standing. You are all that’s left to defeat them.

You can do this, you know you can. You manage to pull one over on Felix, knocking him down to -5 health, and you can’t help but to jump up and let out a roar unbecoming of the tiny woman you are, but the crowd erupts.

It was at that moment, however, that you knew this match couldn’t be won. Felix had knocked enough health out of you that you were down to only 19 hit points, while Bang Chan managed to keep around 55.

As the final battle commences, your heart drops. He’d been building into Jax. There was no way. You bite your lip as you look up at him, not willing to watch your team get murdered.

He meets your gaze, eyes darting from your bitten lip to your worried brow. His eyes soften, a devilish smile playing on his lips.

You lose the battle in 2nd place.

The stadium is split nearly in half, some groaning, some cheering, but all spirited and screaming. The host appears on stage, pulling the two of you into the middle by the wrists, raising Bang Chan’s hand high into the air, and leaving yours to the side. As the announcer's words fade into the background noise, Bang Chan moves to stand beside you.

��Hey,” he says simply.

“Hey.” You cross your arms. “Good game.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “What are you doing after this?”

“What?”

“What?” he repeats after you.

“I-I’m not d-doing anything after this,” you answer his question belatedly, taking a few moments to process.

“Oh, yeah, good… Cool.” He nods.

“...Why?” You pause, glancing at him.

“I was just thinking… maybe we could talk strats after this?”

“S-strats?” You turn to him. “W-what?” You take in his features: his dark hair and eyes, shy smile and full lips, his handsomely carved nose. For a gamer, he looked strong, like he could throw you over his shoulder and run a mile with no effort.

“Over dinner?” He clears his throat, shaking you out of your reverie. “Do you want to go to dinner after this, I mean?” He tries this again with a little more confidence. For a man who spent the near hour the match had taken winking at and slaughtering you, he was really bad at this game.

“How can you be so smooth yet so awkward at the same time?” You attempt to stifle a laugh, but you blush instead, confident the color of the lighting would hide this. “Is dinner on you?”

“I mean, I did just a really big check,” he motions at the giant piece of printed cardboard leaning on his side. You had been in such a daze, you hadn’t even noticed the announcer handing it to him.

“Are you just doing this because I’m a girl and I almost beat you?” You crinkle your nose at him, just slightly uneasy.

“I’m not that shallow, but I can’t deny, you’re pretty sexy in a ‘she could definitely take me in a fight’ kind of way.” He shrugs. “I would like to get to know you before I decide to make a move, though.” The confidence sticks this time, making your heart race. “Looks aren’t everything.”

You consider this. “Only if you reveal all your secrets to me. That Jax kicked my ass.” You grin and wink, earning a wink back.

“Deal.”

#stray kids bang chan #bang chan x reader #christopher bang #bang chan #chris bang #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fluff #skz bang chan #bang chan skz #bang chan stray kids #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #skz fluff #kpop fluff

66 notes · View notes

azucanela · 4 years ago

Text

chapter ii

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: cursing. mentions of a bomb.

word count: 3k

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

series masterlist

THE MEETING WAS NOT SUCCESSFUL. AT ALL. Or at least, that’s how it seemed in Y/N’s eyes. Seeing as the only thing that had come out of it was… spending more time with Bakugou. Which was the opposite of what she wanted to do at the moment seeing as she despised him. Y/N actually had a feeling that any further interactions with Bakugou would only end in more chaos. So, Y/N decided she would set to work, as she would any other day.

Ignore the problem until it goes away, right?

Slipping on her hero costume feels like a chore, pulling the gloves of her suit on with a grimace. They only served as a reminder of her inability to fully control her ability— though Y/N was known as someone with some of the most impressive quirk control. There was always that underlying feeling, of course that feeling never belonged to her. It had always been hard, shutting out the emotions of others, Y/N had found that those who feel the most strongly were the ones she would avoid.

Clearly she had failed.

Regardless, those emotions tended to be distracting as she went about her day. Y/N had learnt to ignore them, to block them out for periods of time, but in a career like hers it was unavoidable. The pain, the rage, the panic, the pure feeling of fear. It could get overwhelming and that often put her at a disadvantage. Emotions were viewed as a weakness, and oftentimes allowing your emotions to get the best of you resulted in unnecessary deaths. But allowing the emotions of others to do so?

It got even worse when she actually activated her quirk to its fullest extent. With a single touch, she could utilize the abilities of a person— all their abilities. When it came to quirks, if you controlled your quirk well, so could she. Otherwise, she would adapt the skills of a person, their intelligence, their athleticism, even their hobbies. Y/N could even the fact that she’d made it through UA to this ability. After all, she’d never been athletic, but her classmates had been.

But her setback had always been a pain, especially in battle, Y/N felt the pain of whoever’s quirk she mimicked. If they were shot, Y/N felt it as if she had been shot as well. She’d never experienced someone dying on her. Nor did she want to. But Y/N was capable of holding as many quirks and capabilities as she could handle— and pain added up very quickly.

It had been worse when she was younger, but Y/N had grown during her time at UA, and now she was capable of ignoring the emotions of others to an extent, and her pain tolerance had grown exponentially.

Y/N was grateful for her success, for the agency she’d been working at. She was not grateful for the looks she got on the way there, Y/N could feel the whispers of those who watched her enter as they walked past. Though she could only hope her own staff had more respect for her.

Her lips pressed together into a tight lipped smile as she entered, and Y/N found herself bracing for whatever could greet her. And to her delight, it appeared that everything was normal. Save for Lorelai’s presence by the entrance, her phone in hand. As though she had known Y/N had entered, the girl in question looks up from her phone before Y/N even has the chance to speak.

“We need to go over our plan, Y/N.”

In response, Y/N waves her off, continuing down the corridor. She smiles to those who greet her, mumbling back to them as Lorelai follows her. “Actually, I need to plan my first patrol of the morning.” She says, looking back to her friend momentarily.

“Then I’ll plan. And my plan includes a real nice fake dating scheme, kinda like those movies.”

Almost instantly Y/N turns around, glaring at Lorelai— who simply offers her a smile in response, clearly pleased with herself as she begins to move alongside Y/N rather than behind her. Y/N had no doubt that they would plan a fake dating scheme if it came down to it, unless she got involved that is. “So?”

“Well, the fake dating scheme was an actual option but you clearly don't like that.” Lorelai mumbles out in response, now holding a tablet as she guides them into a room. “Aside from that, basic press events together,” Lorelai looks up from her tablet pointedly, “where you actually look like you’re enjoying yourself, should amend the situation easily enough.”

Y/N raised a brow, taking a step around the long meeting table where those who worked at Hawk’s agency would soon congregate for their weekly assignments, “a little too easy if you ask me.” She looks to Lorelai, “Bakugou agreed to this?”

“I’m sure his PR team will convince him.” Came her response, shrugging as she took a seat on the table and crossed her legs. “We can do a public statement but there’s no real reason for making this a bigger thing than it already is. It would only end badly.”

With a frown, Y/N’s eyes drift back towards the window. They’re still on the first floor so it’s not like she’s seeing much, but it’s almost astonishing, how there are people just… going about their days without a single fear in the world. All Might’s downfall had eradicated the mindset but on days like these it felt as though not a single thing had changed. As though there weren’t still dozens of underground organizations planning horrid things, and there weren’t hero agencies like her own devising ways to stop them.

Hero Society was a fragile, and corrupt thing.

Y/N had watched as they threw children into every battle, she remembered when she’d been forced to do such things herself. She had watched her comrades, her friends, nearly die for a cause they were too young to comprehend. And she watched as civilians criticized them for not doing enough. Why did her publicity even matter? Shouldn’t that be the least of her concerns? Y/N found it funny that she needed to do well in polls to do her job well. It was the only real way to guarantee access to certain information that low ranked heroes didn’t get.

With a sigh,Y/N turns back, brows furrowed, “so when does this start?”

Placing the tablet beside her on the table, Lorelai rests her palms against it and leans back against them, “next week probably. Haru still needs to work out the details with the rest of the PR team and Bakugou.”

A small laugh escapes Y/N as she mumbles out, “it takes a whole team to keep that man from ruining himself.”

“Most Pro Heroes have a PR team, Y/N. You’re one of few exceptions.” Lorelai corrects, looking to her. It was true, Y/N was aware that more popular heroes often had teams of people coordinating their social media, schedules, public outings, and more.

Y/N tilts her head at Lorelai, “why is that?”

Lorelai raises a brow at her friend’s words, “what, you want to get rid of me?”

Y/N laughs once more, shaking her head, “no… it’s just—” She turns to face her friend, “when I hired you I couldn’t really afford anyone else. Now I can. But you do all the work by yourself.” Biting her lip, Y/N asks, “why is that? I could get you an assistant or something, easily.”

“Well you aren’t exactly the most problematic,” Lorelai responds, offering her a small smile.

Nodding, Y/N pulls out a chair at the head of the table, taking a seat, “but you also have plenty of other clients—”

The door opens, drawing their attention to the person who stands there, one of many heroes who worked at the agency., Pro Hero Telen, a simple hero name with an equally simple quirk. But his ability had saved them numerous times in battle. He pauses as he enters, “is it— is it not time for the briefing? Have I interrupted something? I apologize I can—”

He moves to shut the door but Lorelai simply hops off the table, collecting her tablet as she heads to the door and rests a hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry— we’re done here, right Y/N?” Y/N simply nods, and Lorelai offers her a smile, “be careful today.” She mumbles out, before turning back to Telen. Y/N doesn’t know what she says, but he pales and nods before entering. Shortly after, everyone else seems to file inside, and Y/N finds herself sighing as she spins around in her chair as she waits.

It would be a long day. A very, very, long day.

BAKUGOU WAS TIRED. He really was. Working at Endeavor’s Agency meant long hours, endless paperwork, constant cases. And right now he was assigned to the current big thing; the Stain copycat that had yet to be caught. Unfortunately, this guy didn’t seem to be an amateur like the rest. Of course, whoever it was, they’d primarily been attacking minor Pro Heroes, until recently.

Slowly working their way up the food chain of heroes until they ended up coming across someone who was relevant. It was inevitable, at one point whoever it was, they’d bite more than they can chew. Trying to take on a hero that surpassed their skills, whatever those skills may be— or they would slip up. Leaving behind some sort of evidence that would result in their capture.

The only issue was, there was no telling where or when this would be. How many would have to die before they were caught? Bakugou didn’t necessarily want to know, and it was his job to make sure no one ever knew how many.

A job he was failing. Alongside Deku, who had also been assigned to the case, it was a curious partnership but he had no choice to make it work. And his publicist had insisted that any presence with a hero like him would be good publicity. After all, most of the public knew about their little rivalry so it would make him seem diplomatic in a way. But Deku was…

“So… the gala, huh.”

Well, he was Deku.

“Shut up.”

Thankfully, they hadn’t run into any reporters, though he was sure someone had caught pictures of them on duty together. Which was bound to end either ridiculously well for him, or incredibly poorly. It was always hit or miss with the press and Bakugou despised the entire aspect of the job. It was the one thing he could admit he was bad at. He wasn’t the most approachable, meaning it was rare for reporters to approach him in the first place due to his renowned temper.

The pair was making their way through the streets of the city, patrol was normal but they were currently on their way to the police station. They were supposed to be collaborating with the police to handle this copycat, and for some reason Deku was… panicked. It was subtle but the guy had been practically sweating bullets since Endeavor told them they’d need to work with the police.

If Bakugou was honest this whole job was busy work. Why else would Endeavor’s agency be working on it? The Number One hero had to have better things to do. Maybe this was a punishment for what happened on the last mission they went on.

Bakugou frowns at the thought, electing to push those thoughts to the back of his mind as they come to stand in front of the Police Station. He finds himself bringing a hand to rub his temple. It was definitely going to be a long day. And he hadn’t even spoken to Haru about how the meeting with Lorelai went yet. Not that he wanted to know at this point, Bakugou had a feeling he wouldn’t be satisfied with any solution they proposed.

He really didn’t feel like dealing with any of this. So, Bakugou finds himself thinking that it might be time to use all those vacation days he’d been holding onto since he’d started working with Endeavor. They were piling up after all.

With a huff, he and Deku make their way up the steps up the police station, and Bakugou pushes the door open. It’s busy inside, as expected. A bustling atmosphere that reeks of blood, sweat, and tears, literally. There are some people seated, likely waiting to be processed, they’re handcuffed and Bakugou is fairly sure he recognizes one of them. Not that he has the time to dwell on it as they move through the police station.

One of the officers makes their way towards them, “you’re the heroes Endeavor’s agency sent?” He asks, looking to Deku, brow raised. “Welcome back.”

Bakugou looks at Izuku incredulously as they begin to follow the man through the mess of a building, “the hell is that supposed to mean?” He hisses, but Izuku’s face has already flushed as he covers it with his hands, shaking his head.

“It was one time, how do all of you know about it!” Izuku cried out, and Bakugou finds himself glaring at his partner for the day, even without context.

The officer simply laughs, waving him off as they make their way into a room. There stands the police chief, Kenji Tsuragamae, and a few others seated at some of the many seats in the room, in front of white board that seems to be more of a mess than those around them. They look tired, exhausted even.

Tsuragamae seems to notice their presence, clapping to garner the attention of the few inside the room, “everyone, please welcome the Pro Heroes from Endeavor’s agency. They’ll be assisting us with this case moving forwards.”

The officers seem rather unimpressed, and since Izuku still seems rather embarrassed for some reason, Bakugou finds himself stepping forwards, “what’s going on?”

With a sigh, he goes to answer. But he doesn’t get the chance as an explosion sounds and the building shakes. A siren goes off above them and suddenly the sprinklers began shooting out water as a woman entered, “sir! There’s been an explosion.”

Bakugou fights the urge to say, no shit, as he and Izuku exchange looks, “is it an attack?”

“On the police? That’s bold.” The officer from earlier comments as they all rise from their seats. But the fear in the room is abundantly evident as they all await her response, anticipation amongst them all. Because who would do such a thing, and so strategically placed on the day

The woman only shakes her head, and this time a man appears beside her, based on the way he’s dressed— Bakugou would have to guess he’s a plumber of some sort, but the man simply explains, “we think it’s an issue with the boiler room.”

Bakugou finds himself rolling his eyes, “then why are you still here?” He turns to the rest of the room, “get on with the briefing and get the damn plumber down there.” He grumbles out, before taking a seat once more and redirecting his attention back to the chief, gesturing for him to carry on with his presentation. All the while Izuku is apologizing rather profusely for his attitude.

Now, crime had worsened exponentially after All Might’s downfall. It’s not that other heroes were suddenly less capable, although some were discouraged by the fall of the greatest hero. It’s just that All Might was a symbol. Even years after the fact, Bakugou could still see it. Things had changed. Although in recent times, crime had lessened thanks to the work of today’s Pro Heroes, there were still… issues.

Many had gone the vigilante route as a result of the League of Villains and Stain— and speaking of Stain, there had been several copycats over the years, people who agreed with his ideals and his actions. Which is what brought them here. The issue at hand was this most recent copycat was… decent. Most of the time it was amateurs who didn’t plan that far ahead, quick and easy to catch with minimal casualties, if any.

Essentially, the police had nothing on him. Just a list of his victims and what they had in common. They were underground heroes, like that of his own teacher from UA, but something about them seemed off, different from what they’d seen in other copycats in the past. They weren’t like the flashy heroes you would find, the ones who seemed… fake. The ones most targeted because they fit Stain’s idea of a false hero.

And even then, there was no being sure which were the victims of this copycat and which were that of others. As the anniversary of Stain’s capture grew closer, more attacks were popping up.

Shaking away these thoughts, Bakugou grimaces. All he had gotten from that briefing was that they knew nothing, had done nothing, and were going nowhere. Which wasn’t necessarily encouraging. So far, there were four confirmed victims of the copycat, and three additional deaths that were viewed as possible victims of the copycat. Technically, one of the copycats, but that wasn’t something he necessarily wanted to think about.

Yeah, he would definitely be taking those vacation days.

#this is not the end series #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo x you #bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #mha x you

126 notes · View notes

toplinetommy · 4 years ago

Text

Without Warning - Matthew Tkachuk

Synopsis: A college!AU where Matty is playing D1 hockey with people he’s actually played with at various levels (he’s in like his third year in this and is going to the NHL after)

Words: 2.9k

A/N: purely basing this off of my friend’s D2 college hockey experiences, stereotypical guy talk is mentioned (like pulling girls), gif credit to @matthewtkafuck

“Just come out with us Chucky!” His captain, Noah yells across the locker room to him. The boys were buzzing, coming off a two-game series sweep against their state rivals, propelling them to a first place spot in the division.

He began taking his chest pads off, contemplating the idea, “I don’t know man.” On one hand, he could go out and finally let loose after a long week of tough practices and study sessions, but on the other he could run into the one person he avoided on campus: you.

“Bro, you never come out anymore, just let loose!” His center, Auston, advises.

As Matthew pushes his pads into his bag, he looks around the room. The energy is high and he can tell everyone is deciding to go out and even talking about their post-bar plans. Besides, the weather was actually nice for this time of year. The snow from last week’s storm had finished melting away and the temperature was higher than it normally was for late February in Boston.

“Sure.”

The first hour or two of him being at the bar passed by like a blur. Him and Noah had decided to go drink for drink throughout the night and had even started stacking their cups in the corner of the booth their group occupied.

The loud house music beats into Matthew’s ears as he and Noah walk back up to the bar for their next round of drinks. Once they both shout their orders over the loud bass, Noah starts talking about this new girl he’s hooking up with. Matthew listens lightly, deciding he doesn’t really want to hear the specific details of Maya. Or was it Mia? Megan? He didn’t know, and he quite honestly was tired of hearing about it.

“And the other day she came over after practice and bud,” He starts, the bartender cutting them off as he returns with the drinks. Matthew tells him to keep it on his tab before Noah continues. “She did this thing when I was about to -”

Matthew’s attention on Noah completely halts as he sees y/n’s small but mighty frame on the other side of the L-shaped bar. Her hair was down, framing her face just the way he liked. Noah noticed the stop in Matthew’s breathing and followed his gaze to where she stood.

“Oh, shit.” Noah remarks.

Noah claps his hand down onto Matthew’s shoulder as they both eye her from their spots. Matthew’s feet feel like cinder blocks as he fails to move so she doesn't catch a glimpse of him. As he starts to regain feeling in his body moments later, he brings his cup to his mouth ditching the straw to take a larger than necessary gulp of the alcohol.

He’s pulled away from his cup, however, when he hears her all too familiar laugh, he tenses back up and debates finishing it in one pull. Her head leans back, exposing the skin of her neck as she rests her free hand on the bicep of the man next to her. Of Matthew’s teammate. Of Matthew’s friend.

He turns heavily on his heels, planning to put as much space between the two of the two of them as he possibly could in the run-down college bar. Noah followed closely behind him, coming to a halt at the booth they were once sat at earlier in the night.

“I didn't know she’d be here, bud.” Noah claimed to Matthew, the rest of the guys turning their heads to their conversation.

“Why wouldn't she be here, Noah? It’s literally the place to be on a Saturday night.” Matthew reasoned, rubbing his forehead with his hand that wasn’t holding his drink.

“Why wouldn’t who be here?” one of the freshmen asked, confused as to the situation unfolding in front of them.

“Y/n,” Matthew groans, color draining from his face when he sees her walking in the general direction of the table he’s occupied himself at. He quickly plops down next to Tyler even though there wasn’t nearly enough space for him. “Don’t move, she’s coming over here.”

Tyler, very nonchalantly, whips his head in the direction Matthew was just looking in to find her. Tyler catches her gaze, and he curses under his breath due to her visibly recognizing him.

Matthew slaps the bicep of his friend for doing next to nothing to avoid her from making her way over to him and his group.

“Hey, Matty,” she greets, causing Matthew’s head to snap up in her direction. He greets her back with his signature tight-lipped smile, hoping that this would cause her to walk away quicker.

“I heard you guys beat Harvard,” She states. Hearing her voice erupts all the past memories of her that Matthew tried so hard to erase over the course of the past few weeks. Her voice is sweet and smooth like honey, completely contradicting the way things ended between the two of you.

Matthew moves to his feet, standing up from the cramped bench he failed to hide himself on. “Hey, y/n.” He greets lowly, looking from your eyes down to your feet. He does it quickly, hesitating to keep his eyes trained on your features for longer than a few seconds. His actions go unnoticed, as she opens her mouth to begin talking again.

“How have you been?” She asks, bringing her glass of whiskey to her lips. He watches her lick the remaining droplets off her lips when she’s done.

“Good, first in the division.” He answers shortly. Matthew leans his body against the wood paneled wall, hand still clasping his drink. He pushes his hands through his curls that he let free for once. Which he soon remembered was something she liked about him, making him feel a little self-conscious in the moment.

“That’s good,” She hums, taking a step towards his stiff figure. This time it was her turn to run her eyes over his body, though she did it much more purposefully and made sure he noticed her actions. He did, and his stomach twisted wondering if she liked the way he looked tonight. He had opted for a pair of light-wash jeans and flannel over his hoodie combo instead of his usual dark grey sweats and t-shirt.

In the moment he was battling internally with himself on whether or not he really wanted to continue to talk to you, but as soon as her hand softly handed on the muscles of his bicep, the battle was over. He visibly lightened on his feet, slouching a much more normal amount than he previously was and he crossed his ankles as he leant more weight on his one leg.

“I noticed you’ve been playing really well recently.” She compliments, speaking loudly over the thumps of the speakers. He reads her facial features, her eyes are much softer than he remembers and her cheeks are especially pink due to her love of blush and the alcohol in her system.

He smiles just wide enough to show his dimples at the compliment, always one to talk about his accomplishments, especially when it’s about how he plays on the ice. “Thanks, the boys have been rolling lately.”

“It’s good seeing you all having fun, too.” She starts, gesturing to the group of players. “I know you don’t let yourself have too much fun too often.” The comment she makes is true, and even more so lately due to her. He holds back a scoff at the comment before speaking up.

“There’s a few people I don’t risk running into.” He says bluntly, leaning away from her so she can clearly see the lack of emotion on his face. “I kinda got roped into coming out tonight.” He watches her face falter a bit at the comment.

Throughout the entirety of their relationship, y/n had only really seen the softer side of Matthew. The two of them had consistently spent time together over the course of the school year, but primarily behind closed doors. Hell, she barely even went to his games even after telling him about her love for the sport.

She still ignores his blatant call out towards her, choosing to not settle on that talking point. An awkward silence falls between the two of them, the loud music and chatter from the crowd filling their ears.

“What have you been up to?” She asks, and God, all Matthew can think about is how awkward this all is. At one point a few weeks ago, conversation was carelessly easy between the two of them and they talked almost every minute of every day.

In the moment, he knows it’s not the best idea to open up to her again, but he doesn’t really think about all of the bad consequences a simple conversation between the two of them can have.

“Just the usual, hockey, workouts, going to classes, spending all my time at the hockey house.” He answers, voice much tamer than before. He takes another small sip from his cup as you offer him a reply.

Conversation continues to flow between the two of you as the two of you catch up on what the other has been doing since they stopped talking all those weeks ago. He starts to see the crowd thin out, indicating that the two of them have been talking for much longer than he realized.

She steps up on her toes, leaning in further and moving her hand up towards his shoulder, and whispers into his ear, “Hey, you wanna get outta here?”

His head pulls away from hers craning his neck so his eyes are looking into hers. He contemplates saying no for exactly one second before she licks her lips and his mind is made up. “Sure.”

She moves from Matthew’s eyes to his mouth, before she leans in and places her glossy lips on his. A fire lights inside him as he kisses her for the first time in what feels like forever and it’s a feeling he definitely knows he missed.

He pulls away, only enough to speak, “I can drive, I haven’t gotten a new drink in a while.”

She double checks that he’s good to drive before he takes her hand in his and begins to lead her outside. He quickly lets the boys know that he’s heading home and that he’ll see him tomorrow. He continues to walk towards the exit and opens the door for her.

As the two of them step outside, the weather has done a complete 180 from what it was earlier in the night. Where the ground was once clear, there was starting to be a light patch of white snow covering both the pavement and the grass. Y/n shivers in her tank top, and Matthew pulls her closer to his tall frame.

Heavy snowflakes continued to fall as he drove the two of them back to his house off-campus. He turned to look at her in the passenger seat, lightly laughing, “Ya know, I was supposed to celebrate the win tonight with the boys and here I am. Driving you home in the midst of a snow storm.”

She giggled at that, igniting a blush on Matthew’s cold cheeks. He reaches for the knob that controls the temperature in the car, and turns the heat up once more. As he pulls his hand away, y/n grabs it and laces their fingers together.

He gets them to his house, pulling into the crowded driveway before meeting her at the hood of his car. She leans up to him, signifying for a kiss. He meets her halfway, placing his hands on the small of her back. They stand there, kissing in the cold, snowy night for a few more minutes as his hands roam down to her ass. She pulls away from him, lightly tugging on his curls, as he feels his hands grab her ass in a not-so innocent way.

“We should probably go inside.”

“Good idea,” He chuckles, guiding her up the slippery sidewalk towards the front door.

As they walk through the front door, one of his roommates, Micheal, is sitting on the couch. “Hey, y/n” He greets with a smirk, “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Matthew shoots him daggers as y/n says hi back to him. Michael looks like he’s about to start a conversation, but before he can Matthew yanks y/n up the stairs by their intertwined hands towards his room.

The minor comment his roommate makes sticks in his brain as y/n takes her shoes off and sets them by his desk. He watches her sit on the edge of his bed and he tugs a hand through his curls.

“You shouldn’t have come over.” He states bluntly, standing still a few feet in front of her sitting figure.

“You’re the one that drove me here.” She states pointedly.

“You’re the one that roped me into this bullshit! Like you always do!” He exclaims, pointing at her with flailing arms.

“I did not! I asked you if you wanted to leave and you said yes!” She argues, confusion laced in her tone.

“Why did you even come up and talk to me?” Matthew asks, softly. “We haven't had a conversation in weeks and we ignore each other if we see the other in public.” He was honestly tired, tired of the situations she put him in and tired of how he’s felt lately.

“I don’t know, I just -” She stumbled over her words before Matthew interrupted her,

“You know damn well the games you wanted to play when you walked up to me and said good game.” He states matter of factly. He watches her think of a response as he paces in the small space of his bedroom.

“I missed you!” She exclaims, raising her voice once again. Matthew actually laughs at her statement, throwing his head back as he hears those words come out of her mouth.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Matthew scolds. “You can’t say you missed me when you were the one stopping us from being anything more than what we were! I told you all the time how much I liked you and you just kept telling me you didn’t want a boyfriend and I thought I was fine with that.”

He pauses to take a breath and to collect his thoughts further, he keeps his eyes trained on the wall behind the bed that she’s sat on. The alcohol that was once in his system is completely gone due to the anger in his blood.

“I let myself be okay with what we were and I let myself be okay with you manipulating me.”

“I did not manipulate you.”

“Yes, you fucking did!”

“I let you do whatever the hell you wanted to do and you chose to be with me, and don’t lie about how I was the only one. I know damn well you were sleeping with other people!” She exclaims. She’s standing now, right in front of Matthew’s towering figure.

“Yeah, because you never said anything about it just being us so you can’t be mad at that!” He yells. He takes half a step closer towards her, head leaned downwards to fully look at her. Both of their jaws are tense and their cheeks pink from the anger. Matthew’s eyes are starting to droop from the combination of the game he played earlier that night, the drinking and just the overall feeling of tiredness he had been feeling lately.

“I’m not mad!” She roared, raising her voice to match Matthew’s.

“Then why are you yelling?”

“Because I’m drunk!” She flails, bringing her hands in front of her face, flexing them in frustration.

“That’s fucking bullshit.” He challenged, moving the rest of the way towards her. He grabs her hands and moves them from where they were in front of his face.

“I let your friends chirp me about our relationship all the time. Every time I saw your roommate at the bar and you weren’t there she’d make jokes about me not being with my ‘girlfriend’ and every time one of them introduced who I was to someone else they’d call me your boyfriend. Literally everyone was calling me your boyfriend except for you!”

“If you didn’t want it all to blow up like it did you should've talked to me.”

“And say what? Hey, I can’t sleep with you anymore unless your friends stop talking to me? I liked talking to your friends, I liked the idea of being called your boyfriend.” He argued further, trying his hardest to get his point of view across.

“I told you a million times that I didn’t want that!” She exclaims, “I was constantly checking in with you to make sure you understood that and you always said you did.”

“Because I wanted to be with you however you wanted.” He reasoned back with her, lowering his voice to the calmest it’s been all night. She stood up as he finished speaking, bringing her face closer to his.

She looked into his tired eyes a moment longer before apologizing and leaning in to connect her lips with his. She found her hands tangled in the hair at the back of his neck as he moved his hands from her cheeks down to her waist, before pushing her back onto his bed.

All he could think of as she walked out of his room was that if he would've just set his drink down at the bar last night and left, he wouldn't be laying in his bed right now, thinking about how he would have to start from square one to get over her again. He quite honestly may have been in love with her, but he couldn’t admit that to himself in the moment and he probably never would.

Matthew was finally feeling like himself for the first time in a long time, until she came in and wrecked his world, much like a hurricane.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #alex writes #nhl imagine

146 notes · View notes

tlbodine · 4 years ago

Text

Literary vs Genre Fiction

The divide between literary and genre fiction is one of those topics that gets endlessly debated in writer circles. You’ll see it making the rounds on social media every time a book gets some buzz for busting out of its category. You’ll hear it in MFA programs across the country. But what even is literary fiction? How is it actually different from genre fiction? Is one better than the other? Why does anybody care?

A lot of smart people before me have thrown their hat in this particular ring, but I’m going to try tackling this one anyway.

First Off: What Do We Mean When We Say “Literary Fiction”?

Defining the thing is almost the hardest part of this whole discussion, and that may be part of the reason why people argue so endlessly about the literary vs genre divide -- if you don’t have a clear definition of the categories, that divide can be drawn up just about anywhere.

So before we dig into characteristics of literary fiction, let’s look at some clear examples. The Booker Prize is a literary award specifically given to works of literary fiction, so it stands to reason that winners of that award would be the best examples of the category, right? Here are some recent Booker Prize winners (as pulled from Powell’s bookstore):

Margaret Atwood - The Testaments The sequel to A Handmaid's Tale, told as testaments from three female narrators in Gilead, a dystopian setting where women have been stripped of their rights.

Bernardine Evaristo - Girl, Woman, Other Twelve central characters, mostly black British women, lead intersecting lives with struggles of identity, race, sexuality, class, etc.

Anna Burns - Milkman A girl identified as "middle sister" catches the unwanted attention of "the milkman," a local paramilitary, and has to deal with the threat of violence and spread of rumors.

George Saunders - Lincoln in the Bardo A father-and-son story about Abraham Lincoln and the 11-year-old son who died of illness in the midst of the civil war, leading to them both struggling in a type of purgatory.

Paul Beatty - The Sellout A satire about an isolated young man who ends up at a Supreme Court race trial after trying to reinstate slavery and segregate the local high school in an attempt to put his town back on the map.

One thing becomes immediately clear about literary fiction when skimming through the titles and summaries of these award-winning books: These novels are well-nigh impossible to summarize in a way that actually sounds enticing.

So okay. What are some genre fiction books, for comparison? There are genre fiction awards, like for example the Hugo award for Sci-Fi/Fantasy:

Mary Robinette Kowal - The Calculating Stars A cataclysmic meteor collision in 1952 causes an accelerated effort to colonize space, leading to a woman fighting to join the astronaut team in this alternate-history book.

N. K. Jemisin - The Stone Sky The third in a trilogy of post-apocalyptic novels about two women with the power to avert destruction of mankind.

Cixin Liu - The Three-Body Problem Against the backdrop of China's Cultural Revolution, a secret military project makes contact with aliens whose civilization is on the brink of destruction, leading them to plan a takeover of earth.

There’s also the Edgar Award, which is given to mystery fiction (it’s named after Edgar Allan Poe):

James A McLaughlin - Bearskin A man on the run takes a job as a park ranger, but runs the risk of being found by the men he's hiding from when he tries to expose some poachers.

Walter Mosley - Down the River Unto the Sea After spending a decade in prison for a crime he was framed for, former-detective King works as a private investigator whose investigation of his own frame-up leads him to cross paths of a journalist with a similar story.

Sujata Massey - Widows of Malabar Hill In 1920s India, Bombay's only female lawyer investigates a suspicious will on behalf of three Muslim widows, a case that takes a murderous turn.

These aren’t the best summaries in the world, but there does seem to be a stronger sense of both plot and character in the story concepts. At least, when someone asks, “What’s that book you’re reading about?” the genre fiction ones will have a somewhat easier time explaining it.

So What REALLY Separates Literary From Genre Fiction?

There are a lot of battle lines drawn between genre and literary fiction. I’ve heard it argued that literary is about character while genre is about plot; that literary is about the quality of the prose while genre is about the story; that literary is about experimenting while genre is about adhering to formulas. That literary is about expanding horizons while genre is about escapism and comfort. That literary is about realism and genre fiction is about fabulism.

I think there’s a nugget of truth in all of these, but I’m not really happy with any of them.

So I’m going to toss out my own hypothesis: I think the difference between literary and genre fiction is the way tropes are employed.

“Okay, great, but what are tropes?”

I’m so glad you asked. Fiction tropes are a type of shorthand. They are things that we the audience have seen before, so we know immediately what they mean. Tropes exist in characters, plot points, settings, concepts -- you name it. Here’s a sampling of tropes you might be familiar with:

The tough lady-cop whose dad was a police officer

Thanks to a mix-up, two people with hidden romantic feelings book the last available room at a hotel but there’s only one bed

A man goes on a quest for vengeance but destroys himself in the process

The wise old man who teaches the young hero valuable lessons but then dies before the pivotal battle

And so on, and so forth. Every genre has its own tropes -- a formula, if you will. In that sense, genre fiction is formulaic, but that doesn’t make it easier to write; actually, a big part of the challenge is in giving fresh twists to familiar tropes. Readers of genre stories demand certain tropes; the author has to deliver on those demands in a fresh way.

By comparison, I would argue that literary fiction does not rely upon tropes. There certainly are tropes and conventions that emerge in literary fiction -- a middle-aged academic struggling through divorce, for example -- but these tropes are more often than not met with irritation, not delight. Readers of literary fiction are looking for fresh insights and innovations, not familiarity.

Tropes are powerful tools. They are the mythic seed of storytelling. They are the archetypes that pass down through generations. They are a sacred backbone of mythology and folklore. Genre fiction, at the end of the day, carries the torch for storytelling in a long and (ha, ha) storied tradition from our prehistoric days huddled around a campfire.

Literary fiction, on the other hand, eschews tropes -- with their agreed-upon meanings -- in favor of assigning fresh meanings to things. Literary fiction is chock full of metaphors, but it’s the author, not convention, that determines what those metaphors mean and how they’re employed. Literary fiction reinvents the wheel. When it succeeds, it hits on depth and emotional resonance that can be life-changing for the reader. When it fails, it comes off like so much navel-gazing nonsense. So it goes.

Fiction Wars and Gatekeeping

The problem with the literary vs genre fiction divide is that it never stops with “This is how these categories are defined.” The problem is that people will insist on ascribing moral significance and hierarchy to them.

Literary fiction is viewed as being smarter, deeper, more meaningful or more valuable than genre fiction. If a genre fiction story manages to break out and gain wider appeal, suddenly people will start ascribing to it literary attributes (whether or not the book and many others in the genre had them all along). And that is all a bunch of nonsense.

It’s the exact same thing that happens in horror fiction -- when a horror story goes mainstream, suddenly it becomes a “psychological thriller” or a “dark drama” or anything other than horror, because “horror” is an inferior genre.

The fact of the matter is that literary fiction gets elevated over genre fiction for systemic reasons:

Most MFA programs focus on writing literary fiction, which means that a lot of lit-fic authors come out of those programs, which means that literary fiction is often the domain of upper-middle-class, frequently white, people who can afford to graduate from those programs

A focus on dense prose and “difficult” writing means lit-fic books must be analyzed and interpreted; it’s hard to read, making it exclusionist to people who lack formal education

Lit-fic dominates awards, gets pushed heavily onto book clubs, is talked about more often on daytime TV and so forth (because it is perceived as being better/more important, thus creating the ongoing cycle)

Basically, lit-fic gets held up as an example of Fine Culture. And any time something is designated as Fine Culture and High Art, it is subject to a completely arbitrary classist distinction meant primarily to keep out an undesirable element (women, BIPOC, poor people, you name it).

That’s not a problem endemic to lit-fic itself. It’s really a problem of the culture surrounding it, and attempts to hold it to a higher esteem than genre work.

Cross-Pollination Is Inevitable and Desirable

How do tropes get made?

Someone comes up with a new metaphor, concept, character, or idea that resonates so deeply that others who follow borrow that same thing and its meaning, and it gets repeated enough times that it becomes a stock trope.

In other words, every single piece of genre fiction exists because someone writing in some other established tradition decided to experiment and go off on a tangent to create something really fresh and new -- and knocked it so far out of the park that people were compelled to follow.

People like to pretend that the overlap and blurred lines between genre and literary fiction are somehow a new trend, but the fact is that this has been the trajectory of fiction-writing for the whole history of storytelling.

Literary agents have a term for this: Upmarket fiction. Books that “transcend” genre definitions to appeal to readers on either side of the aisle. And those are highly sought-after books, because they have the potential of bringing in double the readers.

So, snobby gatekeeping aside, is there any real reason to argue about the definition of literary vs genre fiction?

I’d say...no. Not even a little bit. I’ve got a mix of both on my shelves. I incorporate a mix of both in my writing. And I don’t see that changing any time soon.

A Final Note

I mentioned above that lit-fic tends to be written by people in MFA programs, and I wanted to touch on that again as an MFA drop-out and someone who was once warned by a teacher not to bring “any more of that genre nonsense” into the classroom.

I can understand, from a teaching perspective, why writer’s workshops would want to focus on lit-fic. From the perspective of learning how to write, forcing writers to derive stories from their experiences, to dig deep into themselves and ascribe unique meaning to things, to develop their own metaphors and hone their craft at the sentence level -- all of that makes a lot of sense. Banning genre tropes is a way to force writers to hone their craft without leaning on the work of generations of storytellers before them, and as a teaching tool I think that’s actually really valuable.

But I think it’s pretty important that we keep that in context. The lit-fic focus in writing classes should be a teaching tool first and foremost. It should not be the end-all and be-all of writing classes.

This post topic was voted on by my Patreon subscribers. If you would like to vote for future posts and get early access to posts before they go live on tumblr, you can become a patron here: https://www.patreon.com/tlbodine

#writing #literary fiction #genre fiction #on writing #long post

20 notes · View notes

nite-shay · 5 years ago

Text

A Helping Hand - Todoroki Shoto x Reader

AN:

Idea: Character finding out their S/O has a prosthetic limb. (Think automail from full metal alchemist).

Sorry for any misspelling or grammar mistakes.

Todoroki Shoto x Reader

You sighed as you dropped your duffle bag on the floor beside your bed before flopping on to the soft mattress. The dorms were usually busy this time of day. However, the week-long break just started, and most if not all of the students rushed out as soon as the last bell of the day rang. You were one of the few who decided to stay behind.

That choice was coming back to bite you in the ass. Hard.

If you had gone home, you could meet up with Hatsume, and she could fix this issue you were having.

With a heavy sigh, you sat up and started rummaging through your bag in search of the object you needed fixing. Your mechanical arm had gotten damaged during your spar with your classmate, Todoroki Shoto.

Today's assignment was to work on hand to hand combat something you excelled but not your partner. The fight had been going well; however, the fighting was making the class run a bit longer than it should have. So to speed things up, Aizawa allowed quirk usage about halfway through the match. With one final powerful attack, he managed to trap your arm, along with most of your right side, in a mini glacier of ice, thus ending the match and class.

You knew you were in trouble the moment you felt the cold bite of the metal parts against your fleshy shoulder. Even after he thawed your arm, you weren't able to move it. You rushed off to the support class, as soon as you got changed, praying your friend got caught up in working on a new baby and delaying her departure.

However, you were not that lucky.

And now here you are with only one arm.

It was going to be a long week.

Instead of lying in self-pity, you decided you might as well try to fix it. It already didn't work, not like you could do anything worse to it. Grabbing your duffle bag and other tools, you headed over to the dining area. The dining table would give you the room you needed, plus it had better lighting. It didn't take you too long to get everything transported, and your work area set up.

With earbuds in and the volume at a comfortable drown out the world level, you got to work.

While you weren't the brilliant support tech that built your arm, you could handle a few basic repairs. With no one else being here, it wasn't like you had much of a choice. You even asked Power Loader for help, but since it wasn't his expertise or handiwork, there wasn't much he could do. He did, however, offer full access to the shop and any tool you may need.

Slowly but surely, you started to disassemble the outer layer of your arm. Between the music and the project in front of you, the world around you slowly vanished.

An hour later….

Todoroki was making his way back to the dorms after visiting his mother. While his classmates and most of the students left earlier that day, excited to see their families, he decided to stay. He did not share the same excitement when it came to home visits. Though he would miss his sister's cooking. Even the best chefs at UA didn't hold a candle to her home-cooked meals.

As he made his way through the back doorway of the commons area, he was surprised to hear noises… He thought he was the only one left...

Was that drilling?

Curious, he made his way to the dining area where he could see you hunched over something on the table.

"(L/N)?" He called out. Thanks to Midoriya and the others, Todoroki was becoming more … vocal with the rest of the class. You were one of the ones he would talk to the most. Mainly because Aizawa assigned the two of you together for training and assignments fairly often. He never understood his reason, but the bi-color haired boy didn't care. He preferred working with you more so than some of his other classmates (*Cough Cough* Bakugo).

Today the two of you had a mock battle during last class. He enjoyed sparing with you; your skills made it a challenge for him. But it also allowed him to be near you without making him feel awkward. He didn't understand why but he enjoyed your company. The battle had been primarily one-sided, with you in favor of winning. That was until Aizawa allowed quirk usage. While you excelled in close range combat, your quirk suited to defend against his long rang ice attack. He quickly overwhelmed you, ending the match.

Soon after the match, he saw you quickly gather your things before running off towards the school. He figured you were in a hurry to leave for the break like everyone else, not to rush back here.

"(L/N) "He approached you slowly, trying to get your attention. You had changed into a pair of black pants and a red tank top. He could also see a folded white rag sitting on your right shoulder. The closer he got, the more he could see what you were working on, some machine parts and hand tools laid scattered on the table. Your seemed foot bouncing an unknown beat as you sat there cross-legged in the chair.

His upper lip twitches in a slight smirk as he studied the determined look in your eyes. It was the same one you had when you were studying or working on something you didn't quite understand.

It was cute.

Taking a steady breath, he finally reached out and gently touched your exposed left shoulder. While he still wasn't one for touch, with you, he didn't seem to mind. "(L/N)."

"Shit!" You jolted from the chair you were in. Unfortunately, your legs got tangled upon themselves in your rush. Your habit of sitting cross-legged was going to be the death of you one day. Falling away from the hand that had seemingly came out of nowhere, you braced for the impact as your metal arm wasn't currently attached to help break your fall. After catching the wind that had been thoroughly knocked out of you, you look up to see heterochromia eyes. "Oh... hey, Todoroki... what's up?" You grimaced in embarrassment. Of all the people who could have seen your startled cat impression...

Guess it could have been worse... It could have been Bakugo... He’d never let you live it down...

"Sorry… I.. didn't mean to scare you…." He wasn't expecting you to be as startled as you were, so he was slow to respond. His eyes quickly checked over you for any injuries he might have caused. "Are you…" His breath caught in his throat as he watched you maneuver yourself to face him.

Your arm…. There weren't two… just one….

Where your right arm should have been… was nothing…

Something glimmered out of his peripheral vision. Glancing over from you, he saw what you were working on. It was an arm… A mechanical right arm…

"It's uh... Ow… it's fine...:'' You quickly got up from the floor looking at the stunned boy who was glancing between you and the arm on the table. "So.. uhhh… I guess you aren't going home for break, or are you waiting till tomorrow…" This was awkward. You hadn't told any about your arm.

The teachers knew, but that was beyond your control, and well, ok Midoriya and Bakugo know, but that's only because you grew up with them, so it's hard for them not to know.

"No. I decided to stay here for the week." He regains his composure before turning his focus solely on you.

"Oh.. well, uh… same here. I hope you don't mind the company."

"Not at all." He shifts a bit before asking. "Are you having issues with your…." He trailed off.

"Oh yeah. It umm.." You cleared your throat before smiling a bit at him. After working with him for so long, you were getting pretty good at reading him. He was uncomfortable and wasn't sure how to proceed. "My arm stopped working earlier today. So I was trying to fix it."

How did it get damaged?

How did he not know about your arm?

How did you lose your arm in the first place?

Was he making this awkward for you?

Should he leave? Should he stay?

So many questions ran through his mind. Uraraka and Yaoyorozu had been working him, so he didn't just blurt out his thoughts as much anymore. Well, he still did with Bakugo, but that was for fun. The girls called it 'reading the room.' He wanted to ask you every question that came to mind, but he didn't want to offend you.

"Do you… need assistance?" He finally settled on.

"Oh. Yeah!" You beamed at him, making him blush slightly. "As corny as this sounds, I could use a hand." If you hadn't been staring right at him, you would have missed that small twinge of his lip. It was a smile.

You went back to work as Todoroki sat across from you, silently observing your work.

While you were comfortable with his silence, you could tell he was not. He had questions, hell anyone would, but he didn't seem sure how to ask or how to start the conversation.

Looks like you would have to take the lead on this one.

"Can you hold this for me?" You point to the forearm panel with your screwdriver. He followed your instructions flawlessly. You do this a few more times, and this seems to ease him some until he finally began to talk to you.

"Do you always do the repairs yourself?" He quietly asked.

"No. Typically, Hatsume does, but she left already. It was her father that built my first arm, but this one is her handiwork pretty cool, huh?" You grinned. You were proud of your brilliant friend, as crazy as she was. You have to remind her every time she has a new idea for her baby, that you need an arm, not an arsenal.

"It is… impressive."

"Ah, ha!" You announced as you pull out the damaged piece of machinery that was the cause of all this trouble. "There you are, you little bugger!"

Seeing you smile in victory as you held up the small component made Todoroki's heart skip a beat. The part you held looks almost industrial grade. It made him curious about what could have caused it to become damaged.

"So how did it become damaged." He asked without hesitation.

"Oh… well, you see the water spots here." Sitting the item down, you point to the parts you were describing. "It happens when water or moisture gets in it. That caused the gear to seize up, and the rest cracked when the temperature around it rapidly changed." Your description of the damage reminded him in the way of Midoriya. The way he would mumble through his thoughts.

Water moisture….

Rapidly changing temperature….

He was the one that damaged her arm….

"I really am the hand crusher..." He sighed as he mumbled to himself.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"My last attack… caused your arm to break… didn't it?"

"Yeah... It did..."

"My apologies… if I had known…"

"If you had known, you wouldn't have attacked me like you did."

He nodded, and that caused her to sigh before putting down her tools and looking directly at him.

"Do you think of me as weak?" You kept your tone neutral, not wanting him to take your question the wrong way.

"No, you are one of the strongest students in our class." His response was honest and quick.

"And now that you know about my arm. What are your thoughts? Would you have gone at me like you did?" You inquired.

"You… are still one of the strongest.. and no, I would have aimed somewhere else... "

"And that's why I keep my arm a secret. You would have held back."

"But, I damaged it."

"So what, it can be fixed." You shrugged

"But…"

"Look, I don't need people to hold back on me. I need my friends to come at me with everything they have. Because I promise you this, a villain won't hold back. If they see my arm, that's where they will aim." This wasn't the first time you've had to explain this.

Friends...

He was silent. He understands your reasoning… somewhat but didn't like it...

"My friends will make me a stronger hero…"

"Your friends?"

"Our friends make us stronger…. I don't think I would have learned or gotten as far as I have without them…"

"What do you mean?"

"Every day with a friend, whether it's in class, just hanging out or in a match, you learn something from each other. The stuff you learn helps you along the way... Take my arm, for example…" You smile. "See, I know these three guys. One is a loudmouth with a foul temper, the other one is observant and kind, and the last one is stoic and very thoughtful. Without them, I would be like my arm was when I first got it, just an arm, nothing special. But thanks to them, I'll become more." You began pointing to different parts on your arm "Sparring with Kat, made me improve its resistance to shockwaves and heat. Thanks to Zuki, I improved its strength and impact resistance." You then grab the small part that he had damaged "And thanks to you, my arm will be stronger against water and ice. Like I said, my friends make me strong. And I'm not just talking about physically either. My arm is just a physical representation."

He thought long about what you said. Your thoughtful words reminded him of Midoriya, but they're straight forward… a Bakugo trait, no doubt. Suddenly Aizawa partnering you up together made sense.

But there was one thing you got wrong.

You were special...

No matter what...

"So… are we friends?" He managed to ask before he could blurt out his actual thought.

"I'd like us to be… if you want..." You nervously fiddled with the part in your hand. You didn't mean to just blurt out everything you did, but it was too late now. Hopefully, he wouldn't read too much into this. You honestly wanted to be more than friends but, he would need time. You know that. This wasn't something you could rush.

"I'm not an easy person to be around…"

"Come on, I made friends with the Katsuki Bakugo. I think I can handle you." You chuckled as you extended your arm and balled you hand into a fist hand balled. Todoroki had seen you do this with some of your other classmates. It was a fist bump. "So what do ya say?"

"I'd like that…" He gently touched his fist to yours...

From that day on you, two were inseparable and unstoppable.

Bonus bit:

"I'm telling you! Something is really strange about (L/N)." The electric quirk user emphasized to the rest of the group.

A grumble shut up came from the explosive blonde as he and his redheaded lover walked in front of Sero and Kaminari.

"Did you not see the tools in her room?" Kaminari continued

"Yeah! How about the can of metal polish? Weird…" Sero noted.

"Maybe she just builds models? You know like cars, planes or something?" Kirishima chimed in, hoping they dropped the subject that was clearly angering the boy beside him. But to no avail, the two guys behind them continued their conversation.

"What the hell kind of model do you build with those kinds of tools?"

"Dude… What if she's a robot?"

"A robot?"

"Yeah! What if she's a robot, and she's here to replace us all with robots!!!"

"You guys really need to lay off the late-night SciFi movies…" Kirishima could see the vein on Bakugo's forehead start to throb… Though the redhead was tempted to let his hot tempered boyfriend go after his classmates, he liked (L/N) and didn't appreciate them talking about you like that, but dinner and a movie sounded better than trying to hide two bodies tonight.

The Bakusquaud composed of Bakugo, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero were making their way through to the dining area. They just opened the door to see you fist bump with Todoroki. Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima and shocked to see you two sitting there, but Kaminari and Sero are more shocked by what they see on the table.

"AHHHHHH SHE REALLY IS A ROBOT!!!!!" You turn just in time to see two streaks of blonde and black hair run down the hallway to the safety of their rooms.

"You make the strangest friends, Kat….." You teased.

"FUCK YOU!"

Later on…

Bakugo is upset that you are now friends with Todoroki… also slightly upset about your arm but doesn't show it.

Kirishima is shocked by your arm but brushes it off. He tells you later that it makes you look manly and wants to arm wrestle you once you get fixed.

Bakugo and Kirishima fill you in on what Kaminari and Sero were talking about. You laugh but then take this chance to terrorize Sero and Kaminari a bit. Mainly using a remote arm (One of Hatsume's prototype 'babies' she gave you a while back) that would walk around like thing from the Adams family) for a bit before tell and proving to them that no… you're not a robot…

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #mha x you #bnha x you #mha imagines #bnha imagines

174 notes · View notes

dikiyvter · 4 years ago

Note

Boss Battle for both Gio ( :(( ) and Riga

[ x ] BOSS BATTLE! | @melodicbreeze you can tell it was a lil easier to think of the concept of riga being a boss bc his attacks have actual names lol...

VS GIACOMO, THE TRAVELING JESTER [ song ]

A boss battle need not be sad-- After all, what’s better than some fun between friends? The arena is not much of an arena at all, but the incline of one of Mondstadt’s many cliffs. Rocks dot the surface of the arena- cover to hide behind. The harsh wind that surrounds the clown makes this a battle best fought a distance; Arrows are your friend, here- After all... This is a challenge.

“You don’t really think you can outshoot me, do you?” he laughs, summoning his bow with a flourish. “You shouldn’t underestimate me, you know! This is what I’m made for, after all!”

Of course, Giacomo knows your his equal- And so he’ll hold back little, fully intending to make this a fight worth celebrating with plenty of wine and tasty treats afterwards. He is quite unlike himself in battle, the flourishes and fancy performances long gone as he focuses solely on utility, making the most of every action. The clown primarily has three different attacks. 1. HIS ARROWS. These are his main attacks, arrows shot in short barrages. Making use of the stones around the arena to hide from the onslaught will be your best bet to not getting injured. His arrows do Physical DMG. 2. HIS VISION. Giacomo is no stranger to using his wind as both offense and defense. His vision provides two different uses; Pushing you away once you land a certain number of blows. This deals Anemo DMG. 3. HIS KNIFE. Should you get close enough, the clown will pull out the knife he often keeps at his side and dart for you, dealing Physical DMG with the blade.

Dodging, making use of cover, and memorizing how many hits you can get in before he blasts you back with Anemo are the safest bets for surviving the fight. It’s not a hard fight, by any means. Memorizing his patterns will help you immensely, but remember... he’s fighting you as a friend, not an adversary.

When you finally manage to defeat him, the cutscene begins. You tackle him to the floor, wrestling his knife away from him- though it really doesn’t pose much of a risk to you, anyways. The two of you lay there panting for a long moment... before the clown breaks into laughter, congratulating you on defeating him and conceding that you can shoot better than him. You let him up, grabbing his hand to assist him to his feet. “To angels share, then? My treat.”

I’m considering all of these to be weekly bosses, so... he drops Shivada Jades, Vayuda Turqouise, and Prithiva Topaz. His unique drops would be Bell of The Clown [ a bell from his coat ] , Tuft of the Clowns Coat [ a tuft of fur from his collar ], and Pompom of the Jester [ one of the little pompoms from his shirt/shoes ]

VS GIACOMO PART 2, SNEZHNAYA’S BITTER WIND [ song ]

Of course, all friendships must end in due time, whether through death or through the cold sting of betrayal. “You really should have stayed away from me, you know,” the clown says, anger dripping from his voice. He won’t even turn to look at you- not now. Not through these eyes. A careful hand unclips the mask from his belt, and it is only as he slips the Despairing Mask on over his face that he finally meets the eyes of the man he once called a friend. The wind around you two kicks up, a harsh barrier blocking you from even hoping to escape across the open plain of snow and ice. The freezing cold that settles in your bones hits almost as deep as the cold rage that lurks beneath Giacomo’s mask.

The clown does not play with his prey. It is not the nature of the storm’s winds to toy- It is their nature to cut. To topple. There is remnants of the previous fight in this one. His arrows hit faster, harder. Without cover on these snow-swept plains your only hope is to dodge the attacks as they rip through the air- your plight made all the more miserable by the snow kicked up by his winds. The field is covered in a haze that serves to obscure your vision just enough to make things a bit difficult, and through it all you hear the quiet jingle of the clown as he moves around you. His blade makes a far more common appearance, here; Watch your back. When he isn’t firing arrows at you he’ll be positioning himself at your back to jump forward, slashing at you two or three times before pushing you away with wind, dealing Anemo DMG- The same occurs after you get a few hits on him. Jumping a fair distance away is usually a good means to avoid taking any DMG from this attack.

Giacomo does not speak the entire time.

STAGE TWO - MY DEEPEST GRIEF. [ song ]

Cutscene. You manage to successfully knock the clown back. The winds rip around the two of you as you try to explain this wasn’t what you meant to happen. That you never meant to hurt him this bad; That you are his friend, not his enemy. Your attempts are met with nothing but a bitter scream of shut up as he rises back to his feet, stumbling. One of your attacks has left his arm injured, and he tosses his bow to the ground in frustration- And yet, still, he fights you, tooth and nail.

Without the ability to use his bow, he is frantic. His attacks come more frequently; More desperate. He doesn’t come at you just from the back now, but from all sides- slashing at you more and pushing you back further. Harder. His goal is dodging; He’s playing cat and mouse with you, leading you through a battle field that becomes rife with sharp winds, dealing a sum of Anemo DMG if you’re not careful to avoid them. He is quicker to blow you back when you get too close, this time. The snow rips harder, limiting your view of the battlefield even further.

There are tells to his attacks, of course; The jingle of his bells is louder as he darts for you out of the snow. The sound of the wind grows louder before it cuts across the field.

When you finally defeat him, a cutscene triggers. The way you throw him to the ground is far less gentle than it was in your previous fight, and the clown scrambles backwards, his knife pointed threateningly to you. “Get on with it, Barbatos,” he snarls, his anger tinged in despair as he stares up at you through the slits in his mask. “I won’t let you toy with me! You and the Tsaritsa have had your fun, destroy me already!”

He drops Shivada Jades, Vayuda Turqouise, and Prithiva Topaz. His unique drops would be Sinister Bell [ a bell from his coat ] , Shard of Despair [ a shard off of his Despairing Mask ], and Arrow of The Jester [ an arrowhead from one of his arrows ]

VS RIGATELLO, THE STORMS LIGHTNING [ song ]

Rigatello’s boss battle is thunderous. Literally. You find him amongst the burnt wreckage of a village that he tore to shreds in the pursuit of his supposed darling little brother; The smell of burnt wood and corpse that mingles in with the stench of ozone that follows him, lightning and atmosphere. These are crimes even you cannot permit to go unpunished; And he knows this. He grins, well aware of what he’s doing as he attacks you, leads your own attacks; You follow him up the mountain, suspended above all beneath the vast and empty night sky. He need not be a god, for this to be his domain.

“Let’s go, little Barbatos! Patron of song, I’m sure you can hear it now, the melodies they’ll sing when I rip your pretty head clean from your neck and toss it to Her Majesty’s feet!”

His claymore is summoned, tossed with a twirl and he catches it with one-handed ease, his outline massive against the dull light of the moon- and soon glowy with the thrum of electricity that dances across the metal of his blade, across his finger tips, glows in his eyes as he lets out a cackle.

This is not an easy battle. He is quicker than the average claymore user, swinging down upon you in successive strikes with twirls and heavy swings, his pace relentless. True fear comes, though, from the electricity that arcs in the air with every strike. He has a few different moves. 1. CLAYMORE. Physical DMG with an small aftershock of Electro DMG. I. His main attack, he swings at you three times before backing off a bit and being open to attacks. II. Swings at you, then gears up for a larger swing that deals a small AOE of Electro DMG. III. Swings twice, then uses a larger swing to knock you back. 2. SHOCKING REVELATION. Rigatello tosses his claymore into the air; catching it and driving its blade firmly in the ground, channeling Electro into a AOE around him. Back up, or you’ll get knocked down. 3.WAVE OF LIGHTNING. His tell is relatively similar to the one above; He tosses the claymore a bit, catches it, and then swings it hard against the ground, sending a wave of lightning bouncing across the ground at you. 4. ULTIMA: SHORT-CIRCUIT. Powers up for a while. Rigatello allows his electro to flow through him; Electro will arc off of him as he performs more rapid attacks, dealing Electro DMG. This lasts a short period of time and then leaves him stunned for a few seconds.

STAGE TWO - DOTTORE’S BROKEN DOLL . [ song ]

The Electro is hurting him. You become aware of this fact quickly. As you back him up against the top of the cliff his form begins to twist, jerking as electro-fried circuits screaming at him to stop his relentless assault. But he won’t give up; He can’t give up. He will never give up. “You’re doing f-f-f-f-fascinatingly well!” stutters, screams, distortion, “L-l-l-l-lets turn it up a n-n-n-no-notch!”

This aspect of the battle focuses far more on the electro that is coursing within him. SHORT-CIRCUIT is activated throughout this entire portion of the battle; His attacks faster, heavier, leaving Electro aftershocks on their wake as he darts after you across the battlefield. All the previous moves are present here, as well, with some interesting new additions.

1. WRITHE. Riga stops dead in his tracks, body spasming as an AOE of Electro courses through the ground around him. 2. WHEN PUSH COMES TO SHOVE... After performing three swings, Rigatello gathers Electro on his free hand and swipes at you, knocking you back and dealing Electro DMG. 3. ULTIMA: NO PAIN NO GAIN. Takes a while to charge up. Riga grabs at his hair and screams; As he does, areas of the ground light up in sparks; Avoid these if you don’t want to get struck down by the lightning that spikes out from the ground in haphazard arcs.

He drops Shivada Jades, Vajrada Amethyst, and Prithiva Topaz. His unique drops would be Cog of the Construct [ a cog from one of Riga’s inner workings ], Bell of the Construct [ a bell that fell off his uniform ], and Shard of Mania’s Mask [ a shard off of Riga’s fatui mask ]

#〈❆INBOX;#〈❆STRIPES BEHIND CAGE BARS - ( Rigatello. );#melodicbreeze

2 notes · View notes

joachimnapoleon · 5 years ago

Text

How the (Quarantined) Murats broke the Internet (and Lannes). [Part 2/2]

Hello all! Here is the second half of my and @histoireettralala‘s AU on our Trifecta in Quarantine. (Part 1 can be found here.) ^_^

***

Caroline groggily plops into her desk chair, yawning in between sips of her morning coffee as she waits for her laptop to start up. She smiles at the sound of the sewing machine running from across the hall; Joachim is already hard at work making a new batch of masks for their friends and family. He has become quite determined, he informed her this morning, to make as many as he can, now that he's discovered he has such a talent for it.

She is secretly relieved that he has developed such a liking for this new hobby. Joachim has been delighted to be able to spend so much more time with the kids since the office temporarily closed, but at the same time... she knew her husband well enough by now to sense his restlessness. Joachim has always been bursting with energy and a perpetual need to be doing Something Important--not unlike Napoleon himself. Sitting at home for days on end, feeling useless, was simply unbearable for him.

Now, he has a purpose again, and she can already see the effect it is having on her husband, the added spark in his eye, the renewed spring in his step. And, she thinks, I've gotten an adorable new video out of it to add to my collection.

Caroline takes another sip of coffee as her YouTube page loads.

She nearly chokes on the hot liquid in her surprise.

Since she went to bed last night, her video of Joachim sewing with Letitia has accumulated... 12,184 views. There are hundreds of new comments and subscribers.

Caroline blinks. She figured Paulette and Josephine would be able to give it a nice boost, but... wow.

She refreshes the page.

12,192.

She refreshes it again.

12,203.

She decides to take a look at some of the top-rated comments.

@napoleon, 12:03: Well this was most... unexpected. So, when can I expect my masks?

@j.poniatowski, 1:05: MY DUDE

@ney, 12:17: very sweet, and kudos on not hurting yourself yet joachim

@bakingsoult, 3:27: maybe we can make a deal, fresh cookies of your choice for masks? PM me

@elisa.bacchiochi, 2:08: CAROLINE WE ALL NEED MORE OF THIS PLZ

@augereau, 4:02: My dear Murat, I think we could do a very lucrative business together; give me a call if you're interested.

@jeanlannes, 12:54: O___O

The majority of the comments, though, are from total strangers, many of whom have felt compelled to comment on the physical beauty of Caroline's husband. It would take far too long to go through them all and filter out the ones that go a little too far, especially as new comments are constantly being added to the thread. She sighs. At least most of them seem to be wholesome enough. And, anyway, it isn't like Caroline isn't used to this by now.

After finishing her coffee and refreshing the page one more time--the video is now up to slightly over 14,000 views--Caroline grabs her camera.

She has an audience to please.

***

[Three days later]

Lannes is not happy.

Aside from being bored to death right now as a result of so many days pent up inside, the masks he ordered from Amazon still haven't arrived, and wearing them is now required in order to go anywhere. The family's groceries are running low (except for their toilet paper; Lannes had made sure to buy twelve 24-packs of that once this whole thing had started, a foresight of which he was extremely proud). How is he supposed to go grocery shopping now without the requisite mask?

To make matters worse, Murat had entirely abandoned him for the past couple nights. Lannes is deeply wounded by this. How could his best friend just up and forget about two straight Skype cocktail hours? Especially when he knew perfectly well that they were the only thing keeping Lannes sane at this point? Even a flurry of furious text messages had failed to impress upon Murat the gravity of his neglectfulness.

Ten minutes later, a "sorry lol" was the verbatim response Lannes had received, followed shortly after by a "super busy" and then a "maybe this weekend idk". Murat had not even had the decency to reply to Lannes' ensuing "WTF".

If I don't get out of this house soon, I'm going to lose my mind, Lannes thinks.

He grabs his cellphone and dials the one man capable of helping him in this crisis.

"What in God's name is it today, Lannes?" a weary Larrey asks after the seventh ring.

"Doc!!! Do you have any spare masks?"

"I've already told you three times I don't!"

"How can you still not have any though? YOU'RE A DOCTOR!!!"

"That's correct; I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker. The mask demand has far outpaced the supply right now. Have you tried asking Murat?"

Lannes blinks, uncomprehending. "Ask... Murat...?"

"Yeah, I've gotta give it to him, he's been making some excellent quality masks!" Larrey exclaims. "I'm actually wearing one right now."

Lannes doesn't know how to even begin to process this statement. His arm holding the phone goes slack; the phone drops from a limp hand to the carpeted floor.

Everything Lannes knows is wrong.

Well, except one thing: he needs alcohol.

A lot of alcohol.

Now.

He heads towards the kitchen.

"Lannes?" the voice of Larrey calls through the abandoned phone. "Are you still there?? Lannes???"

***

Ney stares at himself in the mirror, studying his new mask. Murat had delivered it to him personally earlier this morning, along with a set of masks for Aglaé and all their children.

"Letitia picked the fabric for your mask personally," Murat had said with a wink.

"Well, I hope you'll give her my thanks. Tell her she has very good taste."

A giant image of the perpetually scowling Grumpy Cat covers Ney's mask.

Aglaé appears behind him in the mirror. Appraising her mask-clad husband for a moment, she nods approvingly.

"It suits you perfectly, my love."

Her husband's mouth might be covered by the mask, but Aglaé isn't fooled. His smile is betrayed by his eyes.

***

[Three weeks later]

Fifty-thousand subscribers.

And Caroline is only just getting started. A prominent blog had e-mailed her this morning about doing an article on Joachim's mask-making venture. Shortly afterwards, a local news channel had called to inquire about conducting a Skype interview with Joachim (and would it be possible for little Letitia to be present too?). Joachim had been reluctant to leave his work--there were still so many masks he needed to make!!--but Caroline had convinced him it would be for the Greater Good.

At Pauline's suggestion, she had monetized the YouTube channel yesterday morning.

Joachim enters Caroline's office, carrying Louise in his arms. Caroline greets them warmly.

"Did Napoleon like his new mask?" Joachim asks.

The last video Caroline had uploaded had been of Joachim and Letitia making Napoleon's mask, complete with her brother's signature "N" ornately embroidered by Joachim himself. His skills were progressing at a surreal pace. Imagining the look on Madame Campan's face at the sight of Joachim's meticulous sewing and craftsmanship, Caroline makes a mental note to forward the video link to her former mentor. See?! Caroline imagines herself screaming triumphantly at the haughty old woman. I was right about him all along!!!

"Napoleon said, and I quote: 'Tell him it's really not bad at all.'" She gives him a knowing smile.

Joachim beams. He's fluent enough in Napoleonese to know that this is high praise indeed.

***

[One month later]

Two-hundred-fifty-thousand subscribers.

Caroline's latest video--Joachim teaching Lannes to use the sewing machine--is shaping up to be their biggest hit yet. (She'd had to implore the two to keep their language as clean as possible; this is a family-friendly blog and besides that, it simply wouldn't do to put the ad revenue at risk). Her viewers couldn't get enough of Letitia and Louise laughing in the background at the struggles of their grumbling Uncle Jean to figure out "this demonic device" (as he called it). But Joachim was a patient teacher, and eventually Lannes had succeeded at making his very first mask. The video culminated triumphantly with him holding the mask aloft towards the camera like a hard-won battle trophy, as Letitia and Louise cheered and Joachim glowed with pride.

Now, Joachim is beginning to experiment with increasingly ornate embroideries and higher quality materials.

"Just because it's for a pandemic," he insists, "doesn't mean it can't be fashion."

***

[Three months later]

One million subscribers.

"Vogue?" Pauline's tone is one of total disbelief.

"Vogue," Caroline affirms.

"THE Vogue?" Elisa presses.

"Yes."

"And he's going to be... on the cover?"

"Yes."

"On the cover of Vogue."

"Yes."

"THE Vogue."

"Yes."

***

[One year later]

Five million subscribers.

Caroline parks her new cobalt blue Maserati, grabs her Louis Vuitton handbag off the seat, and heads into the house.

Joachim is in his design room, hard at work as always. He greets her with a kiss.

"How's it coming?" she asks.

"Pretty good, I think. Maybe another week or so and everything will be wrapped up."

After months of hitting the runways and photo studios of some of the most famous designers in America and Europe in the aftermath of the pandemic, Joachim has decided to pursue his long-cherished dream of putting out his very own clothing line--for both adults and children. So far, their videos of Achille, Letitia, Lucien, and Louise parading around and posing in their dazzling new haute couture outfits were proving to be immensely popular.

They have been floating the idea of live-streaming a fashion show to launch the new line; the participants would be their friends and family. So far, Lannes, Jerôme, Pauline, Elisa, Eugène, Lasalle, Bessières, and Poniatowski have all volunteered. Lannes' runway walk needs serious, serious work, but there's still plenty of time.

Of course, the children all want to participate in the show too, and how can Joachim possibly say no?

***

[Six months later]

Napoleon hates shopping. Primarily because Josephine always spends obscene amounts of money--really, if anybody ever found out just how many pairs of gloves she has--he lets out a sigh. It isn't just about the money though. Shopping for clothes is always such a hassle. Napoleon is a simple man with simple tastes. No frills, no feathers, no silly ornamentation--unlike some people. He just wants something nice and comfortable. Something breathable. Something that doesn't cut off the circulation in his arms or legs.

So of course, he has to live in the age of... skinny jeans. A crime against God and man. If he was in charge, he'd criminalize the horrid things. Of course, his ludicrous brother-in-law doesn't mind them. Murat is always delighted to have an excuse to show off those perfectly chiseled thighs of his.

"Napoleon! Come over here!!" Josephine calls. "I've found something you might like!"

I highly doubt it. He sighs again, but proceeds in the direction of her voice.

***

[The following afternoon]

Napoleon and Josephine arrive at the Murats' monthly garden party. Caroline has been renovating the place obsessively for the past few months; the spacious property now has a massive heated outdoor pool and vast gardens full of exotic plants and flowers. To the house itself, has been added a large marble terrace.

All this because she didn't want to learn how to sew, Napoleon marvels. He wonders how Madame Campan is processing it all.

Joachim and Caroline see the newly-arrived couple and hurry over to greet them.

Joachim's greeting cuts off in mid-sentence. His eyes are locked onto Napoleon's shirt.

"You're... wearing..."

"Yes. You know, it's really not bad at all, Joachim. You should make more like this." He gives Joachim's ear his signature tweak, before continuing on towards the food table.

Caroline giggles at the sight of her husband stricken speechless--the rarest of rare events.

"Come, my love," she takes his hand. "Let's go celebrate our success."

[THE END]

#Trifecta AU #Quarantine AU #@histoireettralala

11 notes · View notes

scaredofheroin · 4 years ago

Text

Captain N - Chapter 4: Welcome to the Neighborhood

The descent down the hill to New Leaf Town proved to be as steep as it looked. Pit ran ahead, with Falco following without as much eagerness. Zelda and Captain N were much more careful in walking down the hill, taking a bit longer than the first two to reach the bottom. Falco and Pit waited for the two, with impatience plastered across Falco's face. Captain N stumbled slightly as the ground leveled, in contrast to Zelda's more dignified presentation. "How nice of you two to join us." Falco snarked, earning a nudge from a disapproving Pit. "Oh, my SINCEREST apologies for not wanting to misstep and fall." Zelda shot back. After regrouping, Pit continued to lead everyone to New Leaf Town, now more visible than before. Captain N remained quiet, observing the surrounding environment. Despite its tranquil, safe appearance, he still felt uneasy. Captain N couldn't shake this feeling, as if trapped in the uncanny valley. Everything about the environment, the grass, the hills, the birds, the sky, it's all incredibly similar to his home on Earth, but here on Yamajiro, it's all only slightly different. Not different enough to be jarring, but different enough to be noticeable.

"Hey, over there!" Pit suddenly yelled, pointing away from town.

Captain N's attention quickly shifted, along with Zelda and Falco, to see what Pit was referring to. Behind some thick bushes could be seen a group of about ten large, anthropomorphic crocodiles. Each were wearing tan pants and were wielding either clubs or some kind of pistol-shaped weapon. Pit darted behind the other side of the bush, ushering everyone else over. Falco and Zelda quickly hid behind the bush, with Captain N observing from a safer distance away. "These guys are Kremlings, they're foot soldiers of King K. Rool!" Pit whispered to Captain N. "Looks like they're gonna be starting trouble in town." Falco noted, observing them walking towards New Leaf Town. Captain N could tell where this was going, so he carefully drew his Zapper and readied himself for action.

"So what's the plan? How should we approach this?" Zelda asked, turning to face the other two. "Like this!" Falco bluntly answered, jumping out of the bush and dashing towards the Kremling group. Before Zelda could stop him, Pit leapt out to join him, with a battle cry to match. Zelda groaned, rolling her eyes at their lack of tactics before joining them in their pursuit. Captain N decided that now's a good opportunity for some on-the-job training, so he summoned his strength and ran out to catch them. The group of Kremlings quickly noticed the four assailants, and quickly readied themselves for conflict. The Kremlings with clubs stood at the ready in the front, while the Kremlings with pistol-like weapons stood ready behind them. Pit shot up into the air and drew his bow back, conjuring an arrow of light in the bow. While still in midair, he fired the arrow at one of the gunner Kremlings, striking dead center in its chest. Falco deftly dashed from left to right, using his blaster to precisely nail shots on the Kremlings. Zelda stayed the furthest distance away, waving her arms in specific motions to conjure walls of light to protect the two from shots from the Kremlings. The Kremlings adamantly fought back, with the club-wielders displaying remarkable agility betraying their size to close the distance between Zelda and Falco. The pistol-wielders stayed grouped together, each focusing on aiming for one of the three in the action, but primarily on Pit. Falco's blaster shot lasers, remarkably slower than those of the Zapper, were dodged by the Kremlings, carefully weaving about. Falco tried to back up to maintain distance, but the Kremling was too quick, and was soon right in front of him. Prepared nonetheless, Falco swiftly met his opponent with a roundhouse kick, and the blow coming from his metal legs was enough to immediately incapacitate his opponent. Pit glided through the air, displaying great skill in dodging shots from the Kremlings with grace alongside placing shots with his bow. Zelda wasn't as accustomed to direct combat as the other two, and used her magic to keep them at a distance through either walls of solid magic or blasts of magic energy. The Kremlings proved themselves worthy opponents, and were able to jump out of the way of incoming shots or blasts as well as returning fire.

Captain N, however, was frozen.

His legs refused to move any closer than 100 feet to the fray, still clutching the Zapper tightly in his hand. The anxiety returned to his mind once more, realizing his sudden, dire situation. He's never been in a playground brawl in Middle School to over-exaggerate about later in life, and now he's in a life or death situation. He wanted to help, after all it's his newly-bestowed responsibility to slay the evil forces of King K. Rool, but his body refused to cooperate. He could feel his heart race as his mind screamed at his legs to get closer and actually aid his allies, but to no avail. One of the Kremlings was tossed farther away from the center of the battle, and was the first of the group to notice Captain N frozen in place. Snarling at his newly found target, the Kremling reared itself and charged at Captain N. Suddenly, his entire world was slowed as the enemy bared its teeth while charging at him.

Is this it?

Is this how the story of Captain N ends?

Two hours after it began?

The Kremling drew closer.

And closer.

"Do something, Captain N!", his mind screamed at the top of its mental voice.

Suddenly, his legs were revived, and he fell backwards, scrambling further back while still clutching the Zapper. The Kremling leapt up into the air, opening its mouth, and prepared to chomp down on the young hero. As if driven by instinct, Captain N raised the Zapper, pointed it square at the Kremling's head, and pulled the trigger. One flash of light later, Captain N was almost crushed by the weight of the now incapacitated Kremling collapsing onto his body. Zelda was the first to notice him, and quickly ran over to check on him. "Are you okay? Are you injured, Captain?" She asked, her eyes scanning for a good look at him under the Kremling's massive body. Captain N could only respond with a groan, indicating his overall good health. Pit swooped down to help out after striking down the last standing Kremling. "Grab the other arm and lift on three!" Zelda instructed, wrapping both her arms around the arm of the Kremling. Pit hastily nodded and followed suit, grabbing the opposite arm. After a count to three, the combined efforts of Pit and Zelda were only enough to lift the upper body off Captain N. This provided him enough room to squirm out from under the Kremling, clumsily regaining his footing.

"Nothing like a little life-or-death situation to get the gears going." Falco remarked, holstering his blaster as he joined the three. Captain N nodded, taking in his handiwork. Seeing the giant Kremling defeated by his hand filled Captain N with a sensation of pride the like he's never felt before. A smile grew on his face, taking in how he won the first fight of his life. "I knew you had it in you!" Pit congratulated him, nudging his shoulder. Captain N chuckled and nodded along, feeling more ready to continue on. "Perhaps next time you could be a little more punctual?" Zelda requested of him. "Don't worry, I'm feeling more ready for next time." Captain N assured. "Yeah, we all FEEL a lot of things, but we should get going." Falco reminded the group.

The remainder of the trek to New Leaf Town was thankfully more peaceful, with nothing else standing between the four and their destination. Upon arrival, Captain N was taken by surprise upon seeing the town's residents. Everyone, young and old, was an anthropomorphic animal, but as opposed to Falco, had much stubbier limbs, bigger heads and stood around four feet tall. The presence of the four was immediately noticed, and a big reaction followed.

"It's Princess Zelda!" A turtle girl in an orange dress announced. A crowd quickly formed around the four, chattering amongst each other. "Isn't that the captain of Lady Palutena's royal guard?" A pink alpaca girl asked a monkey male in a blue uniform, motioning to Pit. "What's Falco Lombardi doing here?" A skunk male asked a giraffe girl. "Do you think Princess Zelda will give me an autograph if I ask?" A beaver male in a blue vest nervously asked an owl with a bow tie. The large mob eagerly chatted to each other, where Captain N noticed he wasn't referred to much other than the occasional "Who's that guy?". It did help alleviate the pressure of having so many people so close to him. Only when he bumped shoulders with Falco did he realize that the four newcomers were backed against each other, inadvertently pressured by the eager townspeople.

Eventually, Zelda cleared her throat to get their attention, and was met with immediate silence from the entire group. "Greetings, residents of New Leaf Town. As you all know, I am Princess Zelda of Hyrule, and I am joined by Falco Lombardi of Star Fox squadron and Pit of Palutena's Royal Guard. But I am joined today by a new ally: Captain N." she announced, motioning to the man of honor, making his uneasiness return slightly. "For so long, we've faced an onslaught of tyranny from the forces of Bowser, King Dedede and King K. Rool, but today we have been gifted a ray of hope. Today, we have been given a ray of hope to break the darkness. The prophecy has been fulfilled! Captain N has arrived from beyond the stars to defeat those cruel beasts and save Yamajiro!" Zelda proclaimed, allowing Captain N to follow with his own introduction. Awkwardly shifting slightly, Captain N could only think to raise the Zapper in the air with a nervous smile. This was enough however, as the group of townspeople cheered victoriously in approval. Their joy was rather infectious, and Captain N was soon smiling along with them. Falco rolled his eyes to himself.

This moment was short lived as Zelda nobly raised her hand to silence the crowd once more. "The four of us have come here because we require aid from someone we believe is currently here." Zelda continued. "We'd be honored to help someone so important!" The owl from before beamed. "Um, excuse me." Came a soft voice from the front of the crowd. Looking down, Captain N was met with the sight of a yellow dog female wearing a green, plaid button-down shirt and brown skirt. "My name is Isabelle, and I'm the mayor's assistant here in New Leaf Town." Isabelle introduced herself, maintaining professionalism in the face of such important people. "Well, hello Isabelle, where's the mayor?" Captain N asked. "Oh, he's out fishing." Isabelle answered, looking down slightly. Captain N and Falco shared an un-amused look.

"By any chance, is Simon Belmont in town?" Pit asked Isabelle. "Oh, yes! I believe he's at The Roost Café." Isabelle eagerly answered. Zelda sighed in relief, grateful she wasn't wrong in her hypothesis. "I can take you to see him!" Isabelle offered the group. "That would be great, thank you." Captain N responded. "Okay everyone, give the VIPs some space, please." Isabelle spoke up, ushering the townspeople out of the way. Not wanting to be an annoyance to such important people, the townspeople quickly dispersed, making enough room for Isabelle to lead the four through town while still eyeing them, taking in their presence. Along the way, Isabelle took the opportunity to show them around New Leaf Town. Captain N's feelings of uneasiness subsided somewhat, taking in how the town seemed to radiate peace and happiness. Isabelle was incredibly eager to show off her humble little town to the Princess of Hyrule, a member of Star Fox and the prophesied savior of Yamajiro. "Over there's the post office, Pelly's really helpful with getting mail where you want it to go!" Isabelle informed, motioning to a wooden building with a mail sign on the window and a large clock on top. "To the left is Nook's Homes. Tom Nook used to be the manager, but now his nephews Timmy and Tommy are in charge. Tom's a real estate agent now. He's a little... opportunistic, but he can be nice! Oh, and next to that is Club LOL! Every Friday night, K.K. Slider-" "Hey, it's great to get the grand tour, but we've got a schedule, so can we skip to the part where we get to the Café?" Falco interrupted, his impatience surfacing again.

Isabelle shrunk back slightly, flustered. "Right, sorry, follow me." She responded, facing down Main Street. Zelda and Pit scowled at Falco out of Isabelle's sight, and Captain N followed Isabelle closely. Soon enough, the tour ended with Isabelle stopping in front of a one-story building with a glass door and a coffee sign out front. "Well, here we are! Brewster should be able to help you inside, and I'll be at Town Hall in case you need me." Isabelle concluded, standing out of the way of Captain N and company. "Thanks for the tour, Isabelle!" Pit thanked, helping Isabelle ease up a bit. "Yeah, you've been a great help." Captain N added. "I'm glad you think so!" Isabelle replied. "But I really should be getting back to my work, so I hope you have a nice day!" She bid farewell, darting off before Zelda, Pit, Captain N or Falco could say their own goodbyes.

Captain N was the first to walk inside The Roost, whereupon he saw only two people: a formally dressed pigeon male with glasses behind the counter, and a muscular man with long, blond hair drinking from a large mug, who was equipped with red, battle-worn gear and a chain whip holstered at his side. The pigeon, presumably Brewster, was idly cleaning a glass when he heard the door open, looking up to see who's the newcomer. Upon seeing Princess Zelda, Pit and Falco Lombardi follow Captain N, he quickly stood at attention, setting the glass aside. "Coo! W-Welcome to The Roost, my humble, esteemed guests. Is there anything I can get you?" He calmly yet clumsily greeted the group. "We just need to talk to Simon over there." Captain N answered, motioning over to the only other person present. "I see, well, I hope you don't mind me here. Coo..." Brewster noted, turning back to the glass while still peering at the group from the corner of his eyes. Simon looked over his shoulder to see who invoked his name, and eased slightly upon seeing Pit and Princess Zelda. Pit pulled over a few chairs to sit by Simon, where he found himself seated between Zelda and Pit, and across from Falco and Captain N.

"Let me guess: You need help slaying a monster." Simon spoke up, his gruff voice matching his large build. "Not just any monster, we need help getting into Castlevania." Pit responded, leaning forward. Simon's attention was grabbed upon hearing the name of his enemy's home castle. "Why? It's incredibly dangerous for someone unskilled and we still don't know where it currently is." Simon asked further, planting seeds of confusion inside Captain N. Castles can't move... right?

"This guy here's supposed to be some legendary hero chosen to save the world. He's got the pistol to prove it." Falco answered, motioning to Captain N and his Zapper. Simon peered at Captain N, turning to Princess Zelda. "Is this true, your majesty?" Simon asked her. Zelda nodded in response. "Indeed, we were all present when this was discovered, and we have Lady Palutena and Lord Raiden to vouch for us. I can also locate Castlevania using my magic." Zelda informed him. Simon leered at Captain N further. "So you're expecting to find another one of the hero's weapons hidden inside Castlevania." Simon deduced, earning a nod from Captain N. "Word on the street is you're the best person to help us with storming the castle, as you've done it before." Falco added, earning a slight nod from Simon. He mulled the idea over in his head for a moment, where Captain N could notice Brewster trying to subtly listen in, his eyes darting back to the glass as their eyes met for the briefest moment. Simon set aside his mug and cleared his throat before speaking further. "Alright, I shall assist you in your quest, young..?" He trailed off, not knowing the name of the newcomer. "Oh, right, I'm Captain N!" He introduced himself, putting on a more professional demeanor.

"Well Captain N, we start training tomorrow. Get some sleep." Simon stated, turning back to his mug. "Huh? What? Don't you think we should get going as soon as possible?" Captain N asked, confused again.

"You're clearly new to this world, and invading Dracula's Castle is, for someone of your current skill level, tantamount to suicide."

Captain N sighed, knowing Simon was right. Knowing he'd won, Simon took another swig from the mug before speaking again. "We meet at the town entrance tomorrow at 8 AM sharp. Be ready." Simon instructed. "We should be getting some sleep. I bet the hotel will let us stay for free!" Pit spoke up, earning a collective nod from the other three. After waving goodbye to Simon and Brewster, Captain N and company made their way back to the center of town, whereupon a large hotel with white walls and blue roofing could be found. Pit's assertion proved to be right, as the hotel owner was honored to have such esteemed guests staying at his establishment. With Pit, Zelda, Captain N and Falco given their own rooms, the group parted ways for the night. Captain N locked the room door behind him and slumped down on the ground, rubbing his eyes.

What a day.

He woke up in his ordinary house, drove to his ordinary school in his ordinary car, attended his ordinary classes, ate his ordinary food, but was so suddenly thrust into such a strange world. On top of that, he had the largest responsibility one could be given just dumped on him out of the blue. Captain N gratefully took in this moment of privacy, enjoying the silence. After a while, he realized the only clothes he had were the ones on his back: blue jeans, yellow y-shirt, boxer shorts and black socks. He silently filled up the bathtub, mixed in some soap, and soaked each article of clothing in the warm water before setting them aside to dry. It's far from the ideal way to wash clothes, but he doesn't have any other options. Looking out the window, Captain N once more gazed into the horizon, feeling a new sensation growing in his chest.

Homesickness.

He's as far away from his home as he possible could be. Even if Earth existed in this universe, it wouldn't be his Earth. Mom, dad, his dog Xavier, his house, his school, in another universe. The town below seemed lively and happy, but Captain N felt more alone than ever. The moon was hanging high in the sky, so Captain N climbed into the hotel bed, wrapped himself up in the soft blanket, and as he drifted off to sleep, a tear welled up in his eye.

#captain n #nintendo #konami #the legend of zelda #princess zelda #star fox #falco lombardi #kid icarus #pit #donkey kong country #animal crossing #isabelle #brewster #castlevania #simon belmont #fanfic #crossover #reboot #writing

2 notes · View notes

petuniatom · 5 years ago

Text

No. 1 Party Anthem [2] | College!Tom AU

Pairing: College!DJ!Bartender/Barista!Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You’re coming up on your last year of college, grappling with finally getting ready for the actual “adult” world and being in two majors you’re not crazily passionate about. When you’re in the middle of a stressful essay at your favorite local coffee shop/upstairs bar, Dommo’s, you meet Tom Holland, a barista and bartender.

You slowly get to know each other over sangria, and soon enough manage to slip your way into his world where the days don’t usually end until about 5 a.m., music is everything, and uncertainty is your best friend.

A story about late night laments, sangria, and a whole lot of growing up.

SERIES MASTERLIST | Ch. 1

Word count: 5.8K

A/N: Hello! Long time no post! Here’s the long awaited update. It’s a little bit more exposition here, but part three is when it starts getting a little bit more spicy. Primarily, we’re focusing on watching the reader developing more of her other friendships here. But stay tuned for pt. 3 which will be coming very soon!

“I don’t see why we couldn’t just go to Dommo’s,” you whined.

You’d been waiting nearly an hour in line outside of Over & Easy with Tony and Jacob. The day before, you made them promise to get mimosas with you Saturday morning, following their late-night adventures and your Friday night essay-writing. While Over & Easy was one of the best spots in town for brunch food, its popularity meant usually there was a battle for those wanting to get inside.

Jacob and Tony, rather than accepting your quiet suggestion to head over to Dommo’s, were insistent that Over & Easy was the best idea for today. Though it was bound to be busy, Tony was craving their french toast and Jacob said their mimosas were better deals anyway. (After all, Saturdays usually meant pitchers for $5, so he wasn’t wrong.)

“You just went there yesterday!” Tony said. “And we rarely come to Over & Easy.”

“C’mon, it’s good to do something different every once and a while,” Jacob said, nudging you.

“Well, it’s just for a place that’s named Over & Easy it just seems to be the exact opposite,” you huffed.

Jacob snickered, and Tony rolled his eyes at your statement.

“What’s going on with you? Why do you want to go to Dommo’s so badly?” Tony asked.

“My car is there,” you said. Tony and Jacob shot each other a look. You knew the jig was up; these boys could read you almost too well. “All right, I met someone there yesterday. He was really nice. And I wanted to see him again because I forgot to get his number.”

Tony and Jacob let out a long, “Ooooh,” at your response.

“Well, I hear all the Dommo’s bartenders and baristas are kind of fuck boys, Y/N, so it might be well-worth your time to just skidaddle anyway,” Tony said. “But I mean, if you want to meet him, just pop-in for more coffee or something when you go get your car.”

You bit your lip. “I know, but he just didn’t seem like the usual type for Dommo’s. He actually seemed nice, like he wanted to talk to me. He listened to me complain about my major for like two hours, and gave me free sangria. You don’t just give anyone free sangria.”

“We do every week,” Jacob replied, lifting his arms up. “Whine and Wine, c’mon.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yes, but we’re close friends. This guy was a stranger.”

“Doesn’t our roommate work at Dommo’s?” Tony asked, slightly scrunching his face up.

Jacob shook his head. “No, you idiot. He works at Wilson’s.”

“I swore he told me that once,” Tony muttered, shaking his head.

At that moment, your group’s name was called out, and you were ushered to a table in the back that seated four. You all ordered a round of mimosas, but you were all going to stick to just that — only one. Tony and Jacob were admittedly a little bit hungover still from last night, and while you were fine, you thought it’d be good to still hold off after all the sangria you drank the night before.

You chatted with both Jacob and Tony about how classes were going so far. Tony was going to have a stressful upcoming week, considering he had an exam coming up in one of his chemistry classes. Jacob, however, was going to be able to take it easy this week. He was a film and acting student, and he only had to worry about a group project he was going to be tackling soon. For the most part though, he was more thrilled than anything when it came to its progress so far, discussing how he met this new girl named Zendaya he wanted to integrate into the friend group.

“She’s a great actress and one of the most laid-back girls I’ve ever met in my life,” Jacob said.

“What is she studying?” you asked, lifting your eyebrows up.

“Women studies and music theory, but she’s heavily involved in the theater scene too.”

“You have to invite her for whine and wine. We need someone new in the mix,” Tony insisted. He then turned to you. “Are you inviting anyone new?”

“Maybe Brynn,” you mused, shrugging.

Jacob and Tony both groaned.

They hadn’t completely warmed up to your friend after an ill-fated incident at a previous party where she, in a completely drunken haze, decided to start jumping on Tony’s already fragile bed, and ended up breaking it. They hadn’t seen her since, slightly agitating the relationship between them and her. In her defense, she did help Tony pay for a new headboard and whatnot. So she wasn’t completely disgraced — just not a favorite to have around.

“You know what that means, time to lock all the bedrooms,” Tony huffed.

You giggled at your friends response, shaking your head. “I don’t think she’ll do something like that again. Besides, it’ll be good to have her around again. You guys can actually get to know her this time around. She’s a good person to complain with.”

“Why couldn’t you just get the bartender’s number and invite him instead?” Tony griped. You knew he was (mostly) kidding, but you were a little bit sad when you realized how fun it would be to invite Tom to Jacob and Tony’s parties on Wednesday nights. You could sit in the corner and chat, sipping on more wine and just get to know each other.

“More mimosas?” your waitress asked, approaching your table.

“I think we’re going to stick to water now,” Jacob replied, thanking her.

After a surplus of french toast and laughing, you were soon walking along the street toward Dommo’s to pick up your car.

Chatter consumed the world around you and you weaved in between all the people who were heading toward their own hangover brunch. You couldn’t help smiling, thinking of how you loved your college town for all its quirks.

As you headed in front of Dommo’s, you immediately spotted your car in one of the two hour free-lots, groaning when you realized you’d gotten a parking ticket for exceeding on your allotted time. It was a $35 ticket — not the worst you’d ever gotten downtown, but still not great.

Figuring you had nothing to lose still, you popped your head inside, scanning the room for Tom.

You sighed when you realized he wasn’t inside, but told yourself that you could maybe make a run by another time. He still owed you that latté that he talked to you about last night anyway. Either way, you headed back to your car, tucking the parking ticket in your glove box.

***

Over the course of the weekend, you quickly got over Tom. You fixated on your homework that was due Monday and Tuesday, burned some candles, and caught up on your favorite television shows. He turned from your brief confidanté into a passing memory.

Soon enough, you were back in your poli-sci class, plopped next to Brynn on the left side of the classroom as your professor lectured. You were nervous about today. He’d sent out an email before class that said he would be handing back papers today — a paper you rushed to complete and barely glanced over. You knew your grade was bound to be fucked by the time you got yours.

While your thoughts spiralized, your classmates were consumed in a debate over the topic of the paper. You heard Brynn contribute to the discussion and you started to doodle on your notebook, in hopes of temporarily escaping your thought process.

You then felt Brynn nudge you, a typical cue for when she needed you to back her up on something. You figured it was the typical conservative boys in the corner giving her trouble, and lifted your head up.

“What’s going on?” you whispered in her ear. “I’ve been tuned out.”

She snickered. “Nothing really, just Brad and Chad here are saying that voter fraud is the reason Hillary Clinton won the popular vote, and it’s an epidemic across the country. No racist history behind voter laws whatsoever.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, your poli-sci discussion always turned into this at one point. You typically enjoyed the debates a little bit more, but since it was still within the first month, you were in the less compelling element of class. You were less enthusiastic about the fact that you were currently stuck in this class with two of your least favorite fellow political science majors — Carter Higgins and Quentin Carver. They’d followed you through the political science classes since your freshman year, but most of the time, you were fortunate enough to only have one of them. This semester, you got both of them.

You were grateful when your professor decided to cut off the discussion early to hand back papers. You slumped back in your seat, somewhat eager to see your grade and yet not prospective about how it was bound to look.

Soon enough, your professor called out your name. Your fingers felt jittery as you walked up to the front, and grabbed the folded paper from his hand, and returned to your seat.

You unfolded the packet of paper carefully. You were surprised when you saw in red pen on the front a giant “A” and a note from him that said, “Excellent job.”

A wave of relief washed over you. You slumped back into your chair, this time in pure disbelief.

“What did you get?” Brynn asked, leaning over to spot it. “Holy shit, first paper and you already aced it. He’s a tough grader too. Congrats.”

You’d heard of this particular professor’s reputation before throughout others who took his class, so you were familiar with some of the horror stories when it came to grading. You knew it wasn’t just you who helped coordinate all of this, as your mind wandered back to your Friday night in Dommo’s and the bartender who was kind enough to look over your paper.

You focused back on Brynn. “Thanks! How did you do?”

She frowned, “B+, but still good. Better than I expected, that’s for sure.”

You packed up your things into your backpack, waiting patiently for everyone to be handed back their papers. Once everyone had, he gave a short overview of what to do on future papers, should anyone need help and reiterated his office hours incase anyone wanted to chat about their grade. Shortly after, everyone was dismissed, and you slung your backpack back over your shoulder. There was a bounce in your step as you approached the door to the classroom, but right as you were getting ready to leave, your professor called your name again.

You turned around, facing him. “Yes, Professor McKinley?”

“I was really impressed with your paper, Y/N. It was one of the best I’ve seen right off the bat in this class. You have a fairly impressive future ahead of you,” he said.

You were flattered by the statement. Sure, you excelled in all of your political science courses, and you were glad you were already doing well in this class in particular. Yet, the thought of the future still somewhat terrified you. You wanted to tell this professor so badly that you had no idea how you were going to handle things following this school year, and the last thing you thought the future would be for you was “impressive.”

“I’m currently looking for an undergraduate student to be a research assistant and join my team,” he continued. “I think you would be perfect for the job if you’re interested. I need someone that I know can analyze, write, and work well with others. Currently, I just have one person, Carter Higgins actually, who works with me, but I always like to have another person around while campaign season unfolds.”

You gulped. You weren’t sure if you wanted to work alongside Carter; you hated him. Yet, this was a tremendous opportunity. Professor McKinley was one of the most well-connected professors politically. If you wanted a job at a non-profit or in a politician’s office, he almost always had a way in. If you joined and impressed him, you could ride on his coattails.

“What exactly would I be responsible for?”

“Just doing research, maybe picking up some books from the library. We’d go to different parties of political candidates as well. You might accompany me to a few panels as the election approaches, all sorts of things. It’s a great opportunity to network and learn more about political research.”

You bit your lip. Admittedly, you didn’t like your current job so much. It’d be nice to do something during the school year that focused on what you were passionate about.

“I’d love to do it,” you said.

He beamed. “Great, I’ll send you a link tonight to apply. I’m looking forward to working with you, Y/N.”

You gave him a polite thank you, before exiting the room. Brynn was outside, leaning against a wall and waiting for you. You smiled when you saw her.

“What was that all about?” she asked, synchronizing with your step as you both exited the building.

“Professor McKinley just asked me to work for him and do something political research,” you said, not meaning to brag, but well, it did sound that way.

You hated whenever you talked to Brynn about things like this. While she was an amazing friend, she was prone to jealousy and being competitive. A lot of the times, that manifested in your friendship with one another.

You could tell she was a little bit envious about the offer you received, and you felt a little bit guilty. Soon enough, a smile was on her face. You weren’t sure how genuine it was.

“That’s good. You’re going to get a lot of good networking out of that,” she said. “Congratulations!”

And yet, it felt forced. You weren’t sure just why you felt so guilty. Normally, if something like this happened, you would wave off the person who was exhibiting this kind of jealousy. But it was Brynn, and Brynn was one of the most passionate people you’d ever met. She genuinely cared about political science; it was her life ambition. The opportunity would have meant so much more than a resume line and connections to her.

“Thanks,” you replied. “But here’s the downside, I have to work with Carter Higgins.”

She groaned and you felt a little bit better in knowing you could now joke with her about the offer.

“I fucking hate that kid. He thinks he’s so important just because he’s a man and knows how to walk on two legs,” Brynn muttered. “Timmy Turner lookin-ass.”

You giggled at your friend’s string of insults. None of them were inaccurate.

“Speaking of Carter, why were you so spacey today? I needed your back-up.”

You let out a long sigh, uneasy how to best navigate the conversation. You didn’t want to agitate the whole friendship you had between you and Brynn, since you’d known she spent all week working on the paper. You knew she was going to judge you just a little bit for your lack of promptness with the paper, particularly since you’d gotten the special offer from Professor McKinley.

So you settled for, “Oh, I’ve just been anxious all day.”

“Why?”

You hadn’t thought that far along yet.

“Just a number of different things,” you said slowly. You decided your best bet was to slowly spin off the truth. “And like, I don’t know, I was nervous about my grade on the paper because I didn’t think it was my best work, and like, this one is going to sound a little bit lackluster, but I met this cute boy this weekend. We flirted for a few hours and I really liked him, but I forgot to get his number.”

It was an exaggeration to an extent, but for the most part, there was no lie.

“Oh that always sucks. I’ve done something like that before,” she replied, frowning slightly. “But hey, maybe you’ll bump into him again sometime soon. And like, I feel you on the anxiety in general, because I get that all the time.”

You felt yourself simmer down after her response. There were so many reasons you liked Brynn, but primarily because she never invalidated you when you talked about the things that were stressing you out. Even if they were just small things like forgetting to get a boy’s number at a bar.

“So, tell me about the boy,” she nudged you on.

You smiled and recounted how you met Tom to her, and how you opened yourself up to him so immediately it surprised you. You told her how sweet he was, how he waited to ensure you were comfortable with him giving you a ride home and in making sure you got home safely to begin with.

“Wow, you’re smitten by someone you’d only met for maybe two hours,” Brynn remarked.

You laughed. “I know, highly unlikely for me right?” You shook your head, your eyes slightly sparkling. “Some people are just magnetic, though, you know? And I think he’s one of those rare types.”

Brynn donned a smile at your words. “I honestly never thought I’d see the day where you were so flustered over another person. Who knew Dommo’s would put something like this together, huh?”

Brynn was reasonably surprised. In all the years that she’d known you, you’d never really pursued a relationship with another person. Often when someone was interested, you’d go on a date, but it almost always turned into nothing besides maybe a brief fling. This was the first time she saw you genuinely entranced by another person since you’d both been at college.

It was just that you were a total stickler about dating people you felt like were just as motivated as you were. Or at least, people who could keep up with you in terms of interests and banter. Other potential significant others you’d met over the years were great, but you always felt like you were never fully understood by them.

There was something different about this thing with Tom. Finding common ground wasn’t an issue. He got you.

“Hopefully it stays a thing. I haven’t seen him since, remember?” you continued. “And I don’t know how to see him again considering I don’t exactly have his phone number or anything like that?”

“Well, hopefully we’ll find him somehow. Worse come to worse, just run to the studio on Friday and see if he’s around. Or go to Dommo’s again somehow. If he works there as much as he says he does, I’m sure you’ll bump into him eventually.”

***

It was Wednesday night, which only meant one thing for your friend group — Whine and Wine time. You pulled the Yellowtail you’d been saving in your cabinet out, placed it in a bag, and walked over to Jacob and Tony’s apartment.

When you first moved out of the dorms, you knew you wanted to live by yourself. Jacob and Tony desperately wanted you to move into their apartment, but you had a feeling that if you shared a home with them, you wouldn’t be able to handle their living habits. Even so, the three of you agreed to live in the same apartment complex anyway — that way if you ever wanted to hang out or get drunk at the others’ apartment, it wouldn’t be a far distance.

You’d arrived at their front door in less than five minutes. Jacob’s eyes brightened considerably when he opened the door and saw you, and you gave him a tight hug. You were the second person there; the first being Laura, who was an expert at making sangria and was helping them out.

Granted, the general rule in your friend group was to typically arrive 30 minutes after the planned time. So by that standard, you were still about 15 minutes early.

“You’re not going to believe who’s coming today,” Jacob said as soon as you walked into the apartment.

You raised an eyebrow, setting the yellowtail you brought on the counter. “Who?”

“Our roommate,” Tony said from the couch. He was sprawled across it, already half a wine glass into the night. “Can you believe it? I invited him, not really thinking he’d say yes, and he texted back that he’d love to come!”

“He’s gonna be here around 8 o’clock,” Jacob said, nodding his head.

You grinned. “Way to include him in the friend group finally, guys!”

“You’re awfully excited, Y/N,” Laura remarked from the kitchen.

“Okay, they’ve been telling me about this guy for a while now, and he’s so mysterious like- I’m just curious about him. Where does he go? What does he do? Is he cute?”

“She’s going to scare him off within the first five minutes of being here,” Tony said.

You rolled your eyes. “Or maybe he’ll be happy that someone is finally acting interested in his life around here. You guys just ignore him!”

Jacob raised his hand. “In my defense, I try talking to him. Tony barely acknowledges him in the kitchen.”

“I don’t,” Tony admitted. “It’s just weird, like what do we talk about?”

“Wait, so in the morning if you’re like in the kitchen at the same time you guys just stand there in silence?” Laura asked.

You nodded your head. “Tony does at least.”

Laura shot him a look. “You don’t at least say hi or anything?” Tony shrugged again, and Laura rolled her eyes, slightly giggling. “No wonder he doesn’t really come home!”

“I’m trying now!” Tony attested, lifting up his glass of wine for another sip.

“He’s redeeming himself,” you joked. “Speaking of redemption, you know my good friend Brynn, she’s coming tonight. And I think we should give her a chance again, okay?”

Both Tony and Jacob groaned again.

“I’m already at max capacity tonight, Y/N! She broke my bed!” Tony protested.

Laura giggled from the kitchen and you rolled your eyes. “Guys, c’mon. She’s so much fun. Might be a little bit judgey from time to time but like a good friend.”

Jacob shrugged. “Listen, I’m usually just joking about all of this. I don’t actually have a problem with her. If you say she’s good, I believe you.”

Tony was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m locking my bedroom door.”

You stuck out your tongue at him, before turning to Jacob and asking, “And what about your friend?”

Jacob frowned. “She’s not coming tonight. She couldn’t make it.”

Tony sat up straight. “What?!”

Jacob shrugged again. “She said she was busy! She seemed disappointed, so maybe some other night.”

Tony let out a long sigh. “I hope she comes eventually. We need more friends around here,” he said.

Laura then started pouring herself a glass of sangria from the pitcher. She offered some to you, which you naturally accepted.

It was good, but not even close to the quality of sangria Tom made you at Dommo’s. But even so, you were content with it.

“Damn, she’s missing out on some great sangria,” you complimented, taking another sip.

Slowly, more of your friends started piling into the apartment. Abraham, Sally, and some people you didn’t know well started walking in right around 7:30 p.m., exactly when you expected more of the crowd to show up. You nudged Tony over and sat on the edge of the couch. Laura sat on the other side of Tony, while Jacob primarily played host by greeting everyone who came in.

Brynn came next, after the large wave of people. She plopped on the ground in front of you, and you could see Tony eyeing her. You knew he was genuinely wary around her, and you couldn’t help giggling slightly at their dynamic.

Brynn started making conversation with Tony, and surprisingly, he was receptive to it. You were only half-tuned into their discussion, as you sipped more of your sangria and enjoyed being slightly antisocial for a long moment.

“So when are we going to start complaining or start group games?” one of Jacob and Tony’s friend that you hadn’t met yet asked.

That was another tradition of whine and wine — when you weren’t crying over your week, you were usually sitting together in a circle playing Cards Against Humanity or more likely, King’s Cup.

“Soon as my roommate gets here,” Jacob said. “We’re waiting on him and a friend to officially get started.”

You all gathered around in different sections across the room to begin catching up. You mostly pursued conversation with Laura, talking about her classes and what life had been like as an accounting major.

Every now and then, you glanced over at Tony and Brynn, who were still having somewhat of a decent conversation. Tony seemed less uneasy about opening up to Brynn now, as his animosity from Brynn breaking his bed was now gone. Laura nudged you about it, placing bets that by the end of the night they would hook-up.

You wandered over to Jacob, who was pouring some more wine for himself over by the kitchen.

“They’re getting along well now, huh?” you whispered, gesturing over to Brynn and Tony.

Jacob snickered. “You know how Tony is. You think the two of them will be good for each other?”

You cocked your head. “I think they have the potential to be. Either they’re going to mortal enemies or soulmates.” Jacob laughed.

But then, the door swung open. You knew who it was going to be even before Jacob leaned over to say it. It was the mysterious third roommate — the one that you’d heard so much information about, but had never met. You felt your heart pick up its pace, ready to make your judgements as soon as the door came to a close.

Two heads poked their way in the apartment. The first was a tall, blond man, with broad shoulders and a serious expression. As you weaved your way through your own memory, you realized you didn’t recognize the face. And it didn’t seem to fit the descriptor Jacob and Tony t0ld you about since they’d moved into this apartment. They told you their third roommate was on the shorter side, and this guy seemed to be fairly average in height, if not higher than average, all together.

But, even more surprising was when you were able to see the second head that stuck its head through the crack of the door. You knew the face; it’d been a face you’d been looking for almost extensively over the course of the past few days. And now, there he was — Tom himself. He was standing right in front of you, with an inquisitive and apprehensive expression across his face as his eyes surveyed over the room. With the ways his eyes moved with ease, like he knew the apartment itself, you knew at once he was the mysterious third roommate Jacob and Tony had been talking about so much.

You laughed to yourself about the irony of it all. You’d been looking for him for so long it felt like, and now, he was right under your nose after all this time.

His eyes brightened once they connected with yours.

“Oh, Y/N, my roommate is here,” Jacob said, nudging you. “Tom! There’s someone I want you to meet!”

He weaved his way over to you and Jacob in the kitchen, his blond friend following closely behind.

“Tom, this is Y/N,” Jacob said, gesturing toward you. “She’s a friend of mine and Tony.”

Tom shoved his hands in his pockets. “Oh, Y/N and I actually know each other. We met Dommo’s this weekend.” He gave you a quick head nod, and you smiled.

Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” He shot a look over at you. You could tell by his reaction that it was all clicking in his head — the way you were eying Tom, the conversation you’d had at Over & Easy, the fact that Tom said you’d already met, and more.

“Yeah, Tom was really helpful to me when I was complaining over that paper I had to write for pols. He even proofread it for me,” you replied.

Jacob nodded his head, a small smirk tugging on his lips. It was all the confirmation he needed. You tried not to blush.

“This is my mate, Harrison by the way,” Tom said, gesturing over to the tall blond boy standing next to him. He stayed relatively quiet throughout the introduction, but now he gave you and Jacob a quick greeting. He was a fellow Brit, you learned quickly. “Harrison, this is Y/N and then Jacob, who is my flatmate. The other one is somewhere around here.”

Jacob and you both gave a quick wave.

“Welcome to your first whine and wine,” Jacob said. “There’s sangria over in the corner, and all the wine is communal usually, so feel free to drink whatever. No one really gives a shit here, we all just try to get drunk and complain.”

Harrison and Tom both grinned.

“Now that’s what I’m down for, mate,” Harrison said, and all of you laughed.

Tom and Harrison excused themselves from the conversation to get a drink. Jacob shot you a look again.

“So that bartender you’ve been obsessed with is my roommate?” he asks.

“It appears so,” you replied, cocking your head. “And I’m not obsessed with him. Just… curious.”

Jacob chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, whatever. I know you.”

You gave a pout. “I’ve only met him once.”

Jacob shrugged. “Just saying, for meeting only once, he obviously left an impression on you.”

And in truth, Jacob was absolutely right. You were enamoured by Tom in a way you couldn’t quite explain. There was just something about him that you were still trying to decipher.

You weren’t sure if you’d met anyone like him before.

Tom wandered back over to you and Jacob, Harrison closely in tow. He lifted up his glass of sangria, in somewhat of a cheering motion.

“Sangria isn’t so bad, huh?” you asked him, as he took a sip out of the glass.

Tom shook his head, a small smile curling up on his lips. “Do you like it better than mine?”

You pursed your lips. “Yours is definitely the best I’ve had.”

You could tell Jacob and Harrison were surprised by how easily the two of you got into conversation, but they weren’t quite fully sure on the context behind the topic at hand.

“At the bar I work at, I make sangria a lot of the time,” Tom explained. “I’m always trying out new recipes. Y/N was one of the few to try a new one I made the other day.”

“It was really good,” you replied, nodding your head.

“Well, you’ll have to bring it over to Whine and Wine sometime. I think we need more of that around here, if anything. The more alcohol, the better,” Jacob said. He was met by the chuckles of both Tom and Harrison. “But, we’re going to start a game soon if you guys want to jump in. We usually play Cards Against Humanity, or like King’s Cup which is a fun drinking game.”

Tom shook his head. “I think I’ll hold off for now.”

“I’ll jump in,” Harrison offered.

Jacob shot you a meaningful look.

“I’ll hang back,” you said swiftly. “I’ll kick in though after a few rounds, okay?”

Jacob seemed a bit disappointed by your answer, and you knew it had a partial role in the fact that earlier in the week, you’d turned down hanging out with Jacob and Tony at all of those parties. But he could handle himself. This was the first time you were seeing Tom in a while, and you wanted to get to know him better.

Jacob and Harrison both headed over to the living room, where the whole crowd of attendees were hanging out. You tried to stop your hands from fidgeting when you realized you were alone with Tom now.

“I got a job because of your excellent proofreading skills,” you said, a bit abruptly. “Thank you for that.”

Tom’s eyebrows raised at your statement, and a small grin curled up on his lips. “Really? Where?”

You explained how it was a research assistant job, but the professor it was attached to had multiple connections that were bound to help your own prospective career. You mentioned how you got one of the best grades in the class compared to the other students on the paper, and how he’d noticed it.

Tom nodded his head and his eyes stayed fixated on your face as he talked. It was a bit strange, being able to talk to someone with them being so intent in paying attention in what you had to say. It was so typical in college for all the people you were usually around to maybe check their phone every now and then, or at some point, their eyes would slightly glaze over as you spoke. But that wasn’t the case with Tom. Not at all.

He was attentive and engaged. His coffee eyes were soft, but with kindness, rather than with a lack of interest.

“Congratulations,” Tom said finally, when you were done explaining the premise of your new job. “It sounds like you’re a perfect fit for it.”

“Yeah, m’pretty stoked about it,” you replied, shrugging slightly. “I know I gave you all that talk about how it’s not necessarily my passion, but like I actually think this could be good.”

Tom nodded his head. “At least gives you the hope that you’re going somewhere after college. Which means you’re probably doing better than the rest of us.”

You grinned. “Tom, it seems like you have it pretty together.” He snorted, but you continued. “I mean seriously, you host a good radio show, and from the small interaction we’ve had together, you seem pretty emotionally in-tune. Which is more than you could say about most of the men that I’ve met.”

He snickered. “Well, you haven’t gotten to know me super well yet, so maybe hold off on making a lot of judgements yet. I don’t know if emotionally in-tune is necessarily the best way to describe me.”

You bit your lip, and said softly, “I think I’d like to get to know you better though.” Tom raised an eyebrow. “I just think we could be good friends is all. And you live with two of my best friends, as I’ve learned after today. So, might as well, right?”

You’d backed off a little bit, thinking maybe your initial move was a bit too forward. But thankfully, Tom followed along with it.

“Yeah, if anything, you should come by Dommo’s again sometime soon,” he replied. “After all, I still owe you that latté.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #college!tom #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x female!reader #we'RE BACK #my writing #n1pa #next chapter: your best friends learn more about the boy you like #a lot of musing and rambling #and we return to dommo's!!!!!

43 notes · View notes

morphituu · 5 years ago

Text

‘Milagro’ Sneak-peek

The first posts ‘Keep Reading’ stopped working (how surprising) so I had to re-upload.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Nick sat forward, the destroyed building starting to come into view, and both of the officers jaws hung.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” Ward chanted below his breath, skidding to a halt beside the countless other patrol cars surrounding the ravaged building. It wasn’t just the piles of concrete and small fires that still billowed into the sky- it was the pools of gelatinous, glowing fire-like goo that swarmed small pieces of it, moving in centralized patterns like maggots.

It was everywhere, and beside it were countless MTF authorities, dressed in radicalized hazmat suits, literally shoveling it into reinforced barrels.

The men stumbled aimlessly for a bit, taking it all in. The victims screaming in ambulances, the glowing goo constricting their limbs, and others in body bags being brought from the rubble.

There were also Brezziks slipping in, their sly hands snatching fallen jewelry or goods under everyone’s radar.

Nick turned, watching two officials carry away a barrel that hummed lowly, the Geiger Counters at their hips clicking wildly.

“What the fuck-“ Nick exhaled sharply.

“Officers!”

They spotted Kandomere, and for once, there wasn’t much that was prim or proper about his appearance. His typical elegant suit was replaced with more… casual clothes, the sleeves to his button up rolled to the elbow and his hair pulled back. The dirt covering him pointed to him having gone through the rubble himself, but neither men could fathom him doing such a thing.

“What happened?” Ward questioned urgently.

“She was here, but for what reason we don’t know,” Kandomere said evenly, quickly scripting his signature across a clipboard when handed to him. “Someone else is with her, and I think they dueled here,”

“Dueled?” Nick barked.

“You see that?” The elf pointed to glowing goo, a small puddle close to them. “That’s Wand Plasma. It’s the cast off of a Battle Spell, a very powerful spell. No other charm or even enchantment gives it off. She was fighting someone else with a wand,”

“So there’s definitely more than one wand in LA,”

“Definitely. The reason as to who she’s battling, and why she is though is without answer. Both have only left clues such as this behind to indicate they’re even here. We have nothing,” Kandomere concluded, overlooking the disaster before them.

They continued to look on, the longer they observed, the more destruction they took in. Nick started noticing blood splattered here and there while Ward watched them bring out a smaller body bag, one easily held in someone’s arms.

“I’m leaving LA,” Nick stated, nodding to himself. “I’m not gonna be here for this shit again,”

“Right behind you,” Ward nodded, hand on his belt.

“Neither of you are going anywhere,”

They both turned, meeting the critical, icy blue gaze.

“Excuse me?”

“Neither of you can leave. We need to know where you both are at all times in case she tries to make contact,” Kandomere explained.

“Fuck that,” Nick spat, turning to leave.

“If you leave I’ll have your badge revoked,”

Nick spun on his heel, stomping back. Ward shouted to calm down when he shoved past his own body, barely able to keep Nick withheld as he stood chest to chest with Kandomere.

“Then fucking take it. I’m not going to sit here and let her roll up on me or my family,” he snarled viciously, but the elf was unfazed.

“Then who do you expect to help if she does?”

“If I leave she can’t! So take or do whatever the fuck you want but I’m not risking our lives or my child's just to make your job easier!” Nick hollered, barely restrained by Ward.

“I am giving you a direct order to stay in LA! If you so much as step outside of city limits I’ll make sure you’re buried in the deepest hole of solitary confinement for the rest of your life!” Kandomere was booming back now, his face twisted into a rage he’d repressed for months.

“Try and stop me! Try and fucking stop me-“

“Nick enough! Back the fuck off!” Ward was yelling over him, shoving harshly against the furious Orcs chest, but moving him was like pushing a raging bull- damn near impossible, and maybe just enough antagonization to get him to push back. “Just stop!” Ward finally silenced him, only moving his hands when Nick turned to chuff and snarl loudly to himself, his hands upon his head.

“Why can’t we leave? If she hasn’t contacted us yet then why can’t we just fucking go? It would be one less thing for you to keep an eye on,” Ward tried to reason, but Kandomere only shook his head.

“You know exactly why, Officer Ward,” he at first said calmly before stepping closer. “She’s going to try and put a wand in your hand. If she’s Inferni, she’s going to recruit you,”

“Who says I’d go?”

“Wands bring power, and with power comes corruption. Don’t underestimate that,”

Ward’s face was taut in restricted fury, choosing to look away. “So what, we wait for her to come at us? What then?”

“If she does she’ll fall right into our hands. We’ve had teams following you both for weeks,”

“Us? Just us? What about our families?” Nick stepped in, eyes wild with worry. “If her sister knows how to take people down to follow a path to who she wants, who’s saying she doesn’t know how either?”

“We don’t have that kind of disposable man-power-“

“Then find it! I have a fucking baby on the way! My girlfriend- my future wife is home alone and you’re telling me there’s no one there to keep an eye on her?! What about his wife and daughter!? How well is your plan going if she attacks them and not us?!” Nick bellowed, but Daryl didn’t push him away this time. This was another dark door opening up, revealing shady dealings behind the scenes.

“You two are main priority-”

“If you want us to cooperate then fucking work with us!” Nick finished, chuffing loudly in his face. Nick looked down on him until Kandomere took a step back, uncaring of the fellow officers watching them or the onlookers gawking.

“Because if anything happens to my girl, or my child, I will rip you into pieces. I don’t care if you don’t know what it is to have someone- stop treating us like we’re disposable. We have lives outside of this shit,” Nick ground out, his menacing form lingering a few seconds longer before turning hotly on his heel.

The cold, steely expression had returned to his tired eyes, as did the rigid manner in the way he stood. If there was ever a time Ward has seen Kandomere intimidated, it was Nick getting in his face.

“He’s right. You both are, but he’s more right. If you want us to work with you, then work with us,” Daryl reiterated, stepping back to follow Nick.

“He’s not entirely right,” Kandomere informed, fixing his rolled sleeves. “Leila killed my husband 30 years ago. Don’t tell me I don’t know what it means to have someone lost.”

Ward was left, standing amongst the burning rubble and curious eyes, and admittedly surprised; it explained the resilience, and persistence to end this. The kind of loathing he must’ve had for those sisters must’ve been unbearable, or perhaps just the opposite. That very contempt could’ve been what drove him to see an end to this, no matter how much he had to withstand to see it through.

His attention turned to the few left still watching. “Mind your own.” he snapped, waving his hand. Still a few pair of eyes following, but became an afterthought once finding Nick inside the SUV, his elbow rested against the window and biting his thumb nail nervously.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Ward cautioned, but Nick’s knee kept bouncing. “If you try n’ run off with Callie they’re gonna find you before you hit Anaheim,”

“It’s worth a shot,” Nick battled.

Ward sat forward, inclined enough to finally catch his partners line of sight. “Then what? You gonna leave your girl with a newborn you’ll never see? You won’t even get visitations or calls. You’ll go the rest of your life wondering what your baby’ll look like or who it’s callin’ daddy,”

Nick’s brows were knit together in a deep scowl, the shake of his head barely noticeable.

“This sucks. It fucking sucks but don’t do something that’s gonna drag on past her finally being caught. Don’t do that to your family.” Ward scolded, no room for debate in his somber tone or unmoving grimace.

Everything in Nick wanted to pack up Callie and run- to leave as far away as they could until this nightmare was over… but Ward was right. He was acting on fear without thinking of the lasting effects. He couldn’t leave Callie alone if what Kandomere had threatened him with held any truth.

Ward’s hand squeezing his shoulder offered comfort when Nick’s face fell into his palms, but agony was just below the surface.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Milagro’s debut is June 21st- only 2 weeks away!

Thank you to everyone who has stuck around this far and hello to any new readers who may be stopping in! I’ll be primarily posting on Ao3 where there’s already a slot ready for it’s uploads, but will also be posting to tumblr again (assuming I can fit in the chapters cause of that stupid text block restriction)

A special, loving thank you to @rfitzhugh74- for being my beta-reader and dealing with my needy ass in regards to writing and my paranoia. You’ve become such a special person to me 🖤

24 notes · View notes

chanarosman4-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Musical Developments And Predictability Of Success In Modern Songs In And Out Of The Top

The pop music of any decade leaves a lasting impression on generations to return. Amper, then again, has an interface that is ridiculously simple. All you need to do is go to the web site and choose a genre of music and a mood. That is it. You do not have to know code or composition or even music concept in an effort to make a song with it. It builds tracks from prerecorded samples and spits out precise audio, not MIDI. From there, you'll be able to change the tempo, the important thing; mute individual instruments, or change out total instrument kits to shift the mood of the music its made. This audio can then be exported as an entire or as particular person layers of devices (known as stems"). Stems can then be additional manipulated in DAWs like Ableton or Logic. First, I see lots of people saying, effectively this is only a small section of music. There is plenty of good music being made right this moment!" Possibly so, however that wasn't the purpose of the post nor heidie773109099.mywibes.com the video. The video discusses how popular music right this moment is not very good, and how most of what often makes the top 40 is homogenized crap. Each jazz and classical symbolize simply 1.4% of total U.S. music consumption a chunk. Nonetheless, Classical album gross sales were greater for 2014, which puts Jazz at the backside of the barrel. A pioneering reggaetonero and https://www.goodreads.com/ rapper from Puerto Rico, Tego Calderón helped break reggaeton internationally with his downtempo occasion classic, Pa' Que Retozen", produced by DJ Joe and Rafy Mercenario. The lead single off his seminal debut album, El Abayarde, this gradual-winding dance ground favourite was one of the first reggaeton songs to crack the United States market - and when the indie rapper's supply couldn't meet increasingly world calls for, his album was bootlegged across continents. (That's, until Sony BMG stepped in to distribute in 2003.) Tego's formal introduction to the sport not only helped revolutionize Puerto Rican music in North America, but additionally worldwide. M.E.

Fortunately, even should you tire of 1 track, there is at all times one other that can elevate your spirits. Here are the happiest songs we all know that will all the time put you in a superb temper. Blast these while driving down a freeway in a convertible Lip sync to them in your room (with a hair brush). Bump them the next time you are stirring risotto at the stove and looking to get in the temper. Dance to those while doing the dishes or plug them in when you really want to get shit executed. From basic oldies to fashionable pop songs, these happy tunes are ones you really need to get caught in your head.

Syd Nathan, the head of King Data, thought it was a awful idea. R&B followers don't shell out for dwell albums, he tried to inform his headstrong star, successful single is what they dig. So James personally financed the recording of this blazing half-hour set at the storied Harlem theater, and shortly radio DJs have been taking part in total LP sides on the air. Had this historical doc accomplished nothing greater than introduce the broader world to the majestic, violent grace of a James Brown stay efficiency, that'd be a lot groundbreaking. But as Reside on the Apollo crossed over to the pop charts, it convinced both artists and businessmen that black music could thrive commercially not by making concessions to genteel white tastes. Lots of pop songs are digital music based, however chords and melodies are what they're and a lot of songs might be played with a standard rock setup. It's up to you guys to rearrange the tracks and it is a bit extra work, but it's usually quite fun and rewarding. HALL, Joanna Louise, Heterocorporealities - Popular Dance and Cultural Hybridity in UK Drum ‘n' Bass Membership Tradition, College of Surrey, 2009. Although meditation, yoga and taking naps are effective forms of stress aid, listening to music is among the best ways to get your dopamine flowing. You might have your personal private playlist to calm your nerves, but this one is scientifically-backed. Oh thanks for that Loudness War hyperlink. I preserve considering that through the years, music just sounds prefer it's been layered and layered with too much happening and it's just noisy to most of my mind unnecessarily all in the background. This should be why the difficulty or at the least part of the difficulty. While rock music proceed to gather popularity within the nation, as extra singers enter the style. However the recent legislation and order state of affairs in Pakistan has restricted the number of live shows and artists will not be heavily selling their albums.

That is wonderful! Effectively done - that would have taken some time. Though I have not carried out that form of analysis, I regularly play popular songs by ear and may attest to the patterns offered here. My assets page ( - then click sources) has a chord progression flavour chart" that categorizes songs primarily based on development. I discover that the more you hearken to the patterns, the better your ear can detect them which can end in an improved means to play these genres by ear. I can chuckle, but when my children sooner or later ask my what I did within the style wars I am going to should admit that there's blood on my hands, too. Earlier in 2000, I'd set up Popjustice , a blog that I hoped would battle the corner for respectable pop music. And early on this was pitched as a battle in opposition to guitar music. Puerile could be one charitable means of describing these early years: at one level, Popjustice's homepage featured Richard Ashcroft's face with the word TWAT" written across it. Whereas which will or might not have been true, it is clear now that it had no bearing on whether or not or not the third Steps album was a triumph (which, for the record, it was). I disagree on one main level. I don't consider this affected the music" altogether. Moderately, music immediately is tremendous fragmented in genres, subgenres and even microgenres that cater to their audiences. I think the samyness is extra to do with the actual fact you point out: that a number of chart pop music is actually produced by simply a couple of guys, as well as the document corporations having been taken over by sinister advertising types. Possibly some already profitable artists will deliver rock again. Maybe a gaggle like Imagine Dragons, who are having so much success with electro-rock could be inclined to launch some traditional guitar rock to pop radio. Or perhaps Fallout Boy will sooner or later scale back the pop of their punk and http://www.magicaudiotools.com sell a rockier sound to pop radio.

1 note · View note

nom-the-skel · 7 years ago

Text

[vore] 101 Uses for Carrots, chapter 11

Stretch didn’t have much of a plan to start with, but things do not go according to plan.

Thanks again to co-author @deck-of-dragons!

3.1k words - tags/warnings: rape/noncon, collar and chain, confinement, skelepreg

[chapter 1][chapter 10][on AO3][chapter 12]

At first Stretch had despaired at the thought of walking all the way to Undyne’s, but it wasn’t really so bad. He walked through Snowdin, self-conscious about his belly but telling himself that the kits were nowhere near big enough to be noticeable when he was fully clothed. Fortunately he didn’t meet anyone until the Riverperson, who didn’t oblige him to make any small talk on the way to Hotland. After that, it was a short, if uncomfortably hot, walk to Undyne’s lab.

“How’s my favorite Jorunna parva?” he asked when she answered the door.

She stared at him, alarmed. Her eyes, if indeed she had any, were still invisible, but it was apparent in the angle of her head, the bristling of her abundant, speckled white fur, and the way her black ears stood straight up. That was understandable; he had shown up unannounced. “You’d better come in and sit down,” she said.

He followed and sat in the only chair not covered in clutter, anime paused on the screen in front of it.

“You’re here for a check-up, right?” Undyne said. “Is it okay if—would you mind showing me the kits?”

“Not exactly, but sure,” he said. It was a reasonable assumption. He’d been here with Blueberry a couple of times for just that reason. He pulled up the edge of his hoodie so she could see the souls inside.

“Hmm,” she said, leaning down to peer in at them.

“Is something wrong?” He’d found the soullings to be primarily an annoyance, but his soul jumped at the thought of harm coming to them.

“No—no, I don’t think so. I kind of expected them to be a bit further along by now, but—but they’re half fox, right? So they will probably take a little longer. Besides, there’s—look, you can see little bits of bone where their skulls and spines are starting to form.”

Stretch looked, but couldn’t make out anything through the ecto-plasm; it had grown murkier as the soullings developed. But if Undyne said they were forming bones, he believed her.

“Have you been—do you have any complaints? Nausea, fatigue?”

“Well—yeah, but…” He could easily blame those on just being around Edge all the time.

“That’s—that’s normal.” She straightened up. “Let me just—check your magic levels.” She shuffled off to fetch a scanner, came back, pointed it at him, hmmed over the display. Stretch tried not to let this worry him. She reached up and felt his ears, looked inside them, hmmed again and wandered off to replace the scanner.

“Give it to me straight, doc. How long do I have left?” he joked.

“Huh? You’re fine. Or did you mean until the kits are born? I think it’ll be at least another month. It’s hard to say, because they’re hybrids.”

Stretch’s ears drooped. He would have liked to get it over with, but he wasn’t looking forward to birthing them, either.

“Your, uh, friends are already here to pick you up,” said Undyne, moving things around as if to tidy the table but not accomplishing anything more than rearranging the clutter.

“What? Who?”

“Your brother and—your fox friends.”

Stretch stood up to leave, but she had already opened the door to the next room. He thought about making a run for it. Was it better to let Edge catch him here, or make him chase him a few yards through Hotland? He had no hope of outrunning the fox without teleporting. Perhaps if he stayed here and accepted his fate, nothing would happen to freak out Undyne. Or perhaps he was just giving up. He still took a couple steps backward toward the door as Edge emerged, followed by Red, who was carrying Blue.

“Papy!” Blue squirmed out of Red’s arms and ran to him. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”

“I’m sorry, Sans.” He knelt down to lay a hand on his brother’s skull. It was coated with a thin layer of red magic, like it was after he’d just been doing kinky things with Red. He frowned. “I figured you couldn’t tell anyone what you didn’t know.” He kept his voice low.

“I would’ve come with you,” Blue whimpered, burying his face in Stretch’s hoodie.

“What—what happened?”

“I don’t—Edge came back and—” Blue sobbed into the fabric.

“Whose magic is this?” Stretch ran a phalange across Blue’s skull and down one ear.

Blue didn’t answer. Stretch looked up at Red, who looked away guiltily. He couldn’t imagine why Red would have swallowed Blue in such a situation—unless it was to keep him safe from Edge—or maybe—maybe it was Edge’s magic, and not Red’s. They were almost exactly the same color. He didn’t hide the betrayal on his face as he finally met the taller fox’s eyes.

Edge was calm. “What are you doing here, Carrots?”

“I—I wasn’t feeling well, so I asked Red to help me come get checked out.”

Edge glanced sideways at Red. “I do have a phone, you know. If it were an actual emergency, the least you could do is tell me what’s going on.”

“Papyrus, you didn’t tell me that you—!” started Undyne, and then shut up when Stretch glared at her.

Edge pinned the bunny with his cool gaze. “Besides, if you had waited just an hour or so, I would have come to check on you. Do you know how worried we all were? Not just me but Blue and even Red. You just suddenly disappeared, after Red left you at your house.”

Stretch held his brother closer. He’d left a note, but if Edge hadn’t seen it he didn’t want to bring it up.

“I suppose it’s safer walking around in public in a vulnerable state here than it is where I’m from,” Edge continued. “But I wish you’d let us take care of you.”

Stretch found himself relaxing a little. Edge shouldn’t have been here in the first place—that he was meant Red had failed again—but at least he didn’t seem nearly as angry as Stretch might have expected.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Edge strode toward him. Stretch tensed up, squeezing his brother tighter.

“Ngh—Papy,” Blue protested.

“Sans, you haven’t been healed?” Stretch looked up at Undyne for help.

“It’s—it’s nothing, I should have taken care of it.”

“What happened?” Undyne took a step closer.

“N-nothing!” Blue shot a fearful glance at Edge.

“Stay here and get healed if you want.” Edge snagged Blue’s bandanna and pulled him out of Stretch’s arms, handing him to Undyne. “Red? I think we can spare the rabbit populace some alarm if you teleport us back.” He gathered Stretch into one arm and held the other out toward his brother.

The downtrodden smaller fox looked away as he took Edge’s hand, and in a moment the three of them found themselves in the bunnies’ living room, Blue having been left behind with Undyne. Blue would be fine, Stretch told himself. Undyne would have some method of healing him up, and maybe if Blue told her something about their situation with the foxes, she’d have an idea about how to stop interdimensional travel. Maybe. It was enough hope for him to stop himself from hyperventilating, for the moment.

“See, Carrots, you’re shivering again already and we just left Hotland.” Edge held him close, which just made the shivering worse. “Let’s get you home and I can take care of you again.”

“N-no! I’m really not cold—really!”

“Nonsense. You’re shivering and tense. Don’t lie to me.” Edge turned to Red. “Sans, I still haven’t forgiven you for what you did today. Perhaps you had better make yourself scarce for a while.” Then he turned and carried Stretch outside, heading for the lab.

Stretch clung to him because there was nothing else to cling to, closing his eyes on the familiar journey through the portal, up the stairs, and into Edge’s room. He really wanted to ask Red and Blue what had happened in his absence. But if he wasn’t allowed to see them—maybe talking to Edge would distract him from ‘relaxing’ and ‘warming up’ Stretch.

“What happened while I was gone?” he asked, not entirely succeeding at keeping the tremor out of his voice.

“I could ask you the same thing,” said Edge, depositing him on the bed. “But very well. Red tried to stop me from coming to find you, so I put him in his place and made him help me look for you. I’m afraid I may have been a little rough on Blue, but he was never in any real danger.”

Stretch shuddered to think what Edge meant by that.

“In light of their recent behavior, I cannot allow you to go visit your brother without me.” Edge shook his head in disappointment. “And since it’s clear now that I can’t even trust my own brother … Wait here. I have a small present for you.”

Edge left the room, and Stretch huddled where he was, trying to stop trembling and relax his bones, so that Edge might conclude he didn’t need warming up or help relaxing. It was a losing battle, even if he closed his eyes and tried to forget where he was. There was no place he could imagine being where he would have felt safe from Edge.

The fox came back, and Stretch kept his eye sockets shut, to delay seeing him again, until Edge ordered, “Look.”

He was holding a red canvas collar attached to a dull silver chain. Stretch’s soul sank.

“This will stop Red kidnapping you again,” Edge explained, buckling the color around Stretch’s neck. “There’s a little magic in the buckle, so that only the monster that fastened it can unfasten it. And for this end—” He threaded the other end of the chain through the bed frame. “A conventional lock will have to do.” He clanked the lock shut through two of the links.

“Wh-where’s the key?” Stretch ventured.

“Don’t you worry about that,” said Edge. “When we need to go somewhere, I’ll just take the collar off. Unless you want to show it off to everyone?”

Stretch lowered his skull.

“You’re safe now.” Edge stroked his skull and ears. “Red has no secrets from me. I know he can’t teleport you out of the collar, and he can’t teleport the entire bed along with you.”

Stretch nodded, a sob escaping his clenched teeth.

“Poor bunny. You must have been traumatized. I really don’t know what’s gotten into our brothers lately. Come on, I’ll help you relax, and then I’ll bring you lunch.”

Stretch instinctively shrank back as Edge closed in on him. “Uh… can ya get me lunch first instead? I’m starving.” That would only be putting it off, but he wasn’t ready for this yet after the last time being just this morning. He never would be ready but that didn’t matter to Edge. And he was hungry because of the kits. To emphasize that he put a hand over his middle, hoping Edge would take note; he cared about the kits’ wellbeing, right?

Edge studied him and for a few brief moments it seemed almost like he’d grant Stretch mercy for once. But of course it was not to be. “No, you’re cold and it’s still a little bit early for lunch. Now come here.” He picked Stretch up to move him closer to the edge of the bed next him. “This should make you feel less hungry anyway.” This again of course, and there was nothing Stretch could do about it.

Edge stood and undid his pants to summon his magic into his hand. He stroked it until it was fully erect and put it in Stretch’s face. With a shudder, Stretch summoned the magic in his mouth and opened up to take it in.

This time Edge didn’t even wait for him to try to do it on his own before he thrust all the way in. Stretch swallowed around it, his throat and jaw almost used to the intrusion by now. So, he gripped onto Edge’s legs and let him have his way.

“See?” Edge pressed a hand to the back of Stretch’s skull, holding him steady as he fucked his mouth more roughly than he really needed to. “You’re doing better already.” He was no doubt referring to Stretch having gone as limp as it was possible to get while still sitting up.

He moaned around Edge’s dick as it pushed into his throat again, hoping to make it feel better so this would end faster. Apparently, it worked, as Edge let out a noisy breath of pleasure. So, Stretch kept doing it as tears leaked down his face until Edge pushed all the way in, knotting. Stretch again choked at first on the gush of cum but caught himself quickly and started swallowing it.

Edge pet his head, pressing his ears to his skull. If that was the only comfort Stretch was allowed to have, he’d take it. He let himself focus on it as he kept swallowing, far too used to the taste of Edge’s magic by now.

By the time the knot softened and Edge pulled out he couldn’t deny that Edge was right about one thing; swallowing all that magic had made him less hungry. Whether or not it was healthy and good for the kits was impossible to say, but he didn’t care. Even if it was the best thing for them and himself, he still wouldn’t want to do it ever again. He wasn’t going to be given a choice, though.

“Now lie down,” Edge said.

Stretch complied, more letting himself collapse backwards than lying down, but it achieved the same effect. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands to them as Edge removed his pants. Wanting this to be over with as soon as possible, he summoned his magic all on his own before Edge could tell him to.

“Good,” Edge said as if praising an obedient pet. He pushed Stretch’s legs apart and seconds later his tongue was pressing against his stupidly sensitive clit, pulling a moan out of Stretch’s mouth. He didn’t bother trying to muffle it because who even cared? If Red was in the house he’d know what was going on anyway and Blueberry should still be with Undyne back in their nice, friendly, not-fucked-up, rabbit world.

No matter how distressed he was, his body was still overly sensitive because of his pregnancy. As a result, Edge’s tongue brought him to an all-too-quick, all-too-intense orgasm. He moaned, lifting his hips up into Edge’s face as his tongue helped him ride it out.

“We done?” he said as his body relaxed. He kept his hands pressed to his eyes, not caring to look at anything right now and unmindful of the tears leaking from them and onto his hands.

Edge sighed, annoyed. “Why are you always asking that?”

Stretch finally moved his hands to look at him. “Because I want us to be done. I want lunch.” He wanted to be left alone and never bothered again.

Edge sighed again but it sounded much more good-natured now. “Of course, the kits.” He slid a hand under Stretch’s shirt to caress his middle, making him shudder. “I will feed you properly soon; you must have patience.”

Stretch groaned as Edge moved him to lie more properly on the bed, his legs still spread.

“Don’t be a baby about it,” Edge said, already summoning his own magic again and lining up with Stretch’s. He thrust in and Stretch sobbed, unable to do anything else. Edge didn’t even acknowledge it as he set his usual pace of being a bit rougher than he really needed to be. It felt good though, there was that. Though that made it worse in a way; no part of Stretch should be enjoying this. It needed to end soon.

“F-faster,” he said between half moans half sobs as he balled his hands into fist in the blanket beneath him. If Edge fucked him faster he’d finish quicker, right? “Go faster.”

Edge paused for a half a second before a grin splayed across his face. He started thrusting harder, almost as hard as he had that first night though not quite.

Stretch panted, clenching his eyes shut as more sounds escaped his mouth, the bed rocking and creaking beneath them. Why had he done that? He was only encouraging Edge more. But… it felt good and his own orgasm was building quicker. “Faster,” he said, holding back another sob.

Edge was panting some too, his face flushed with arousal. “I would… but I don’t want to… hurt the kits,” he said between his own louder noises of pleasure. “After they’re born though… we can go as fast and… as hard as you want.”

Would he really be stuck here with Edge that long? Every attempt he, Red, and Blueberry had made to end this wretched situation had failed completely, so… probably. He’d be stuck as Edge’s mate until he inevitably Fell Down. How long would that take? … Hopefully long enough for the kits to be born; he didn’t want them to die with him.

Thankfully the thought was soon washed away by an intense burst of pleasure. A few more thrusts and Edge was climaxing too, suddenly still as the knot set in and warmth flooded into Stretch’s magic, making him moan again even as he panted and cried.

Even Edge was out of breath a little. “That was good, you’re getting more comfortable here already.” He started stroking Stretch’s skull again, uncaring of how Stretch was breaking down into gross sobbing. “You’re okay, you did good, there’s no need to cry.” He sounded almost contemptuous of Stretch’s tears as if he thought they were silly and nonsensical.

Stretch whimpered, hating himself as he let himself take what little comfort he could in the petting. It wasn’t much and this would be over soon; the knot would soften and then Edge would clean him up and then leave to make lunch. But then… he’d probably want to go again tonight before bed. And there was nothing Stretch could do about it when he was literally chained to the bed. So, really it wasn’t almost over at all but just beginning.

#nomtheskel writing #collab;#bluebunny #wolfbunny fic: 101 uses for carrots #wolfbunny fic: bluebunny multiverse

10 notes · View notes

investedin · 4 years ago

Text

Why Shouldn’t We Save A Huge Amount In Savings Bank Account?

We don’t know what situation will come at what time so, it is good to save money. But saving a lot is also too dangerous when we consider some of the facts. Why bank employees remind you about the savings in your account? Have you ever excited to get an answer to this? And many times it is said Why Shouldn’t We Save A Huge Amount In Savings Bank? !! Don’t worry in this article you will get an answer to this question. So don’t wait and let’s dig our research!

Why Shouldn’t We Save A Huge Amount In Savings Bank?

Following are the reasons for why would we not keep too much money in the saving bank account

Generally, every person wishes to save a huge amount for his/her future expenses and also for medical expenses. So make sure that you save money for that could cover your expenses for over 6 or 7 months. Saving more than this limit will become a problem. To say more precisely, you may end up with some loss. There are two main reasons why you end-up with loss. One is the psychological behaviour of a human while other is because of less interest rate claim on your savings. Let’s check them in detail.

1. Psychological Behaviour:

You may think that this reason is very silly, but this is the actual reason why most of the people end up with less money. For example, you will get your salary every first week of the month, but why you will end-up with less amount at the end of the month? There are many reasons why you get into that situation. Let us discuss them;

After receiving your money you cover all your bills like electricity bill, phone bill, gas bill, etc. You have to pay your monthly EMIs (if any). As our today’s world consists of multiple options and lot more entertainments, with the remaining money brain starts to manipulate us to upgrade the things around us, to buy accessories in the online portal with discounts, to crave for our favourite food, Opting to give good and fancier gifts for marriage functions becomes our choice and finally vacation trips if possible.

So, these all are the reasons why you end up with less money at the end of the month. This reason not only works for monthly salaries but also for a large amount of savings. If you save more money than required then this behaviour hooks up and at last this psychological behaviour wins the battle.

But this reason is only for some people who can’t resist themselves from buying. But the other reason is a very practical one and it is better to not neglect the second reason.

2. Interest Rates On Savings Account:

The interest rate on a savings account is fixed by the Ministry of Finance, the minimum interest rate is 3.5% per annum and it’s a part of RBI circular.

The upper limit of the interest rate is arbitrarily decided by each bank.

State Bank of India (SBI) Account establishes an average interest rate of 3.5% for savings accounts with a minimum balance of 1 lakh and an average rate of 2.75% for all accounts with a balance of less than 1 lakh.

Do you think saving in Fixed Deposits gives you the good profit you can get?

The answer is No, because if you have interested the same amount in mutual funds or fixed deposits then you might have ended with more profit. It is true that business fluctuates every minute but know that things take time and start to invest at least when you have saved the necessary amount for 6 to 7 months. Over a particular period, you will get good results when compared to results from a savings account. To understand this better let us take an example.

Let Us See An Example:

A person named ‘X’ is depositing a principal amount of 50,00,000 in his account and after 4 years his interest amount is 7,00,000(with a 3.4% interest rate per annum). Do you think he has got a good profit? The answer is “No”, with an inflation rate of 8% he has got a negative profit. If he had invested in mutual funds or any other investment options, he would earn a profit rate of approximately 15,00,000(which is double of the obtained interest amount). When the waiting period is more than 30 years then you can see a very good difference in between saving the money and investing the money.

Why there is a lot of difference between saving and investing in stocks? What factors change the interest rate in a savings account? Let’s check them.

Factor Reducing The Saving Account Interest Rates:

Inflation:

Inflation refers to the rate at which the price level of goods and services increases over a while. The period for inflation depends on the surplus or demand of the goods in the market. When a product has less consumption than the previous time, the price of that product decreases, and if the product has more demand the price rises.

The inflation is with an average rate of 7-8% while the interest from a savings account is 3.5% on average. This shows that you will get negative returns. Also as many think that it is better to save money instead of investing them in stocks, banks provide fewer interest rates on your savings. So that bank will never go in debts.

So, we have seen what interest rate we can claim while saving in a savings account, and do you think it is better to save rather than investing? No, right! It’s okay if you have saved the minimum amount that covers your expenses for 6 to 7 months as I have already said. But it’s not quite suggestable to save more in the account. So, let’s check for an alternate solution.

A Solution To Balance Funds:

You can save the excess money apart from your monthly expenses in a short-term mutual fund (that has around 8% interest) and has better taxation than FD (Fixed Deposit).

Invest your money in stocks which could roughly give an annual interest of 7%, but note this long-term investment requires no manual intervention for a specified period so save your emergency fund in a savings bank account and invest only the excess amount in stocks.

The period between a savings account and FD (or other long-term investment options) is wide and so is the interest rate.

Make sure that you use liquid cash instead of too many online transactions.

Maintain savings which cover expenses up to 7 months.

Make the wise decision of investing a part of your income in any long-term investment option to never miss the profit.

Rule Of Pandemic Covid-19 Over 2020:

Yes, this pandemic situation has created poverty, unemployment, destruction of lives, loss of wealth, etc., people are looking for various means to the sail through this tough time.

According to a survey, 32.2% people have invested in personal savings account between February to June 2020, which is 16% more than the previous year, but this might not be a very good idea to yield a profit, because owing to the inflation even banking sectors are struggling to give high-interest rate accounts.

The price level of bitcoins, golds shows this current inflation is considered to be the highest in the past 9 years (since 2011).

What Is The Best Option To Invest Money Now?

i. Try investing a part in stocks, mutual funds to earn more profit.

ii. Try investing a part in a savings account for secure and steady income.

But apart from loss while saving huge money in the bank what benefits can we avail from them? Let’s check them.

Benefits Of Savings Account:

1. Security Blanket:

A Savings Account is found to be a safe approach for funds. The funds in the account remain in there until it’s withdrawn, often this is regarded as the reason why the savings account has a low-interest rate. The amount present in the account is considered to be liquid, the term is used to refer the liberty of the account holders to withdraw an amount up to a minimum required balance anytime anywhere.

2. Make Hay While The Sun Shines:

Being a savings account holder allows you to enjoy discounts, reward points on purchase using the ATM card of either credit or debit card. Medical insurance, foreign travel insurance, and other insurances for opening the account are provided. Also, passbooks, net banking, and cheque book facility are a bonus to the account holders.

3. Close Fisted Or Generous:

The account is suitable for close-fisted people who choose to save money instead of spending and also generous people who wish to spend more money. There are no restrictions on cheques deposited or issued or any other payments made.

Difference Between Savings Account And Current Account:

Basically, both are similar to each other. In a savings account, you will save the money to fund you in later times or during emergency conditions, whereas in a current/ checking account the funds which you save are primarily used for daily expenses or it is preferred by people who require the frequent withdrawal of funds.

A savings account does not encourage more than 6 withdrawals a month, but the checking account does encourage. The Savings account has more rate of interest (minimum of 3.5%) then checking account (minimum of 0.25%).

The main reason for us to discuss between a savings and a current account is that most often people use a checking account as savings account just to facilitate their easy access and frequent withdrawals. But there is a high risk, if a bank collapses, it promises its customers to settle back their amount fully but in the worst conditions at least a protected amount specified by the bank is settled to the savings account holders but in a current account you cannot specify or expect so.

Tip: Never Give Culprit An Opportunity!

Our very small flaw/ignorance could make us repent for years, yes, heaping or saving all the hard-earned money in a single place could provide high chances for victimizers to easily loot the money. Getting track of an individual’s account details is not as tough as Rocket sciences, so distributing our funds across different trustworthy banking and financial sectors could give a ray of hope and a good backup even if situations turn out to be bad.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs):

1. What is the maximum amount to save in a savings account?

There is no maximum amount restriction but when you deposit or withdraw an amount more than 10 lakhs, you should fill a form to process the request.

2. What is the tax imposed on a Savings account?

Under “Income from Sources”, a savings account is supposed with a minimum of 4% tax and increase in the tax rate is added on bases of the individual’s income sources, and balance amount in the account.

3. What is the tax imposed on mutual funds?

If the return from the mutual fund is more than 1 lakh per annum then it’s subjectable to 10% of the returns as tax. Else no tax is imposed.

4. What does Bitcoin mean?

Bitcoin is a computer file it is generally stored in a digital wallet app on either smartphone or PC.

People can share bitcoins to others. The transactions made are recorded in the block chain, it’s a public list. It prevents the misuse of bitcoins. It is valuable as goods and services are provided in exchange for bitcoins.

Bottom Line:

Thus, I conclude by saying instead of saving a hefty amount in savings account invest funds in mutual funds or long-term investment options which could give considerable profit, and provide an opportunity to become a big buck.

source http://invested.in/why-shouldnt-we-save-huge-amount-in-savings-bank-account/

0 notes

bughead-fic-request · 7 years ago

Text

Psycho Killer - Chapter 1: It’s Our Job

Summary: Archie Andrews hated when his job took him to high places. Betty Cooper loved when her job took her to posh places. Jughead's job only took him to dark places. This is a story chronicling the lives of three young hired killers. AU/Majorly OOC, sex, swearing and violence.

Words: 2,064

Warnings: Violence, mentions of domestic violence and torture, swearing

A/N: I started writing this for a different fandom and feel like finishing it here. This is unlike anything I’ve ever written in terms of pairing. This story is AU and the pairing is Archie x Betty x Jughead in various ways and stages.I hope some of you can get past the pairings and enjoy the story. I have sort of an idea where it is going but we’ll see what happens. Most of you aren’t going to like this but I’m trying something new.

I edited this myself so there are probably errors. You can also find the story on AO3.

Archie Andrews hated when his job took him to high places, primarily trees. He needed to move up on a branch to get the right vantage point but was concerned the thinning tree limbs wouldn’t support his weight.

“Come on, Ric.” He muttered to himself as he placed one foot on the next branch and hoisted his body up. These were the moments he hated his muscle mass and he could feel the wood groaning underneath him.

“Fuck.” He muttered as he reached for his rifle and moved slowly as he found the perfect place to set it. He was pointing it at a second floor window of a mid-sized mansion in a reputable London neighbourhood.

Archie never had a problem killing people, his father had done it his whole life and started grooming Archie to do the same from a very young age. People died, there was nothing more to it and he knew that most of his marks usually deserved it. One less asshole in the world was a good thing; if anything, Archie was a hero.

The man he had to kill tonight had been cheating on his wife with several other women and then had taken to coming home and beating her senseless. She wanted him dead because it was her only true way out. If she left she would lose her children, he was too powerful to lose a custody battle, but more importantly she would lose his money. What Archie had learned in this business was that money trumped everything; some people may say they were killing for love or power or freedom but it all came down to money in the end.

This man, Kieran Levitt, came from a family of worth and did nothing to earn his job as a mid-level British politician. He had a good upbringing, went to the finest schools, he had been told he was the best his whole life and that he deserved whatever he wanted. This attitude could lead to some people wanting him dead and in his case it did.

That’s why Archie was in a tree making sure his footing would hold while he put a bullet in this man’s brain. Archie was lucky it was the middle of summer and not winter. Climbing trees in heavy wool coats didn’t make his job impossible but it did make it a hell of a lot harder.

Mr. Levitt had just gotten into bed and turned out the light. His wife had left the blinds open so the red haired assassin could see in, which was a nice gesture. Archie could have just broken into the house if she had closed them, he was no stranger to breaking and entering, but that would be the sloppy way. No bullet hole in the window meant the wife could have done it and that wasn’t what she was paying him for. So Archie grabbed the rifle, looked through the scope and set up his shot.

He contemplated shooting him in the neck and letting him bleed out. Archie wanted to him to suffer a bit. He had seen her face when she came in to speak to Cheryl, their handler, about hiring someone to kill her husband. There was a difference between being hit and beaten and then there was this woman’s face. It was more black and blue than skin, one eye was swollen shut and the other eye was barely open. Archie had no idea how a public figure could do this and not get caught but there was so much fear in the woman he had no doubt that if she caused trouble for Kieran, he had enough friends to make things even more difficult for her.

So assassination it was.

He lined up the shot, took a deep breath in, pulled the trigger and that was all she wrote. Archie was out of the tree and has the rifle disassembled in under a minute. He didn’t look back, he didn’t need to, he knew what he had done, he had executed his task perfectly because Archie was one of the best snipers in the world.

He hopped a fence and casually wandered through an overly landscaped backyard. He pulled out his phone to call Jughead who picked up after two rings. “Hello good sir!” Archie said joyfully as he opened a gate and let himself out on to the street. “How are things with you?” He walked over to the Lexus they all shared and got inside, throwing his rifle in the back seat. “You almost done?”

“Almost…” Jughead stated in low voice, “when’s Betty done?” He sounded serious which meant his hit was going very well or very poorly. Jughead’s speciality was slightly different from Archie and Betty’s; Jughead specialized in torture. He made people suffer when death just wasn’t enough and he was very good at it. Archie’s best friend wasn’t exactly unstable but being in the army had awoken something in him that Jughead had fought against his whole life. Next to Archie and Betty there was no one better at their job than Jughead.

An incoming call sound chimed in Archie’s ear. “Ah, speak of the devil. Hold on.” He put Jughead on hold and transferred to the other line, “Hello lover.” He crooned.

“Hello sweetheart.” Betty sounded mildly drunk. “I need you to pick me up in an hour. This prick is popular and I cannot get him alone.”

“Is the champagne flowing tonight?” He asked her, smiling, putting on his seatbelt.

“Do I sound tipsy?” She asked in her velvety British accent.

“You need to kill first and drink later. Be professional dear, I’ll see you in an hour.” Archie hung up and went back over to Jughead. “She’ll be done soon.” He started the car and listened to the sirens in the distance. “Finish up, I’ll come and get you and then we’ll go get Betty.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in 20.” Jughead hung up and Archie threw his phone onto the passenger seat.

He pushed the gas, turned on the radio and tore across upper London to get his partner.

Jughead Jones was sitting on the curb outside an abandoned warehouse when Archie pulled up. “Jug, seriously?” He shouted out the car window.

Jughead stood; his face was almost entirely covered in blood, he was wearing a light blue t-shirt which was soaked in blood and dark jeans. Jughead was 6’4, lean but muscular in a ropey kind of way and he had broad shoulder that made him look big. He was big. Everything about him was big. He had black hair, pouty lips that were always pulled into frown and tired but bright green eyes. Jughead was not a man you loved or even liked right away but once you let him in there was no going back.

“What? What have I done now?” He approached the car, placing blood spattered cigarette in between his lips.

“Jug, you are drenched in blood. How am I supposed to take you anywhere?” Archie started looking in the back seat for an extra shirt.

“Were you planning something? Dinner? Dancing? Chocolates? You’re handsome Archie but not really my type.” He started grinning, pleased with his joke.

“I was thinking of going to the pub while we waited for Betty. Ah-ha! This might fit you.” Archie handed him one of his dark green dress shirts.

“This won’t even remotely fit me.” Jughead said taking it from him.

“What do you mean it won’t fit you?” Archie asked completely baffled.

“I’m a thousand feet tall and lean and you’re shorter than me and have muscle mass. Do you have a bottle of water?” He asked as he took off his shirt.

“I could throw you in the Thames.” The red head smirked looking at him. He took a bottle of water from he cup holder and thrusted it Jughead’s direction.

He snatched the bottle from Archie’s hand. He balled up his soiled shirt and chucked it in the back seat before dumping water over his body and face cleaning himself up the best he could.

“Lets go get some beer and drink it in the car while we wait for Betty.” Jughead suggested as he put on Archie’s clean shirt which was just too short and way too wide.

“Now, that sounds like a plan. It’s not a complete and fulfilling day unless I act like a teenager at some point!” Archie proclaimed as he tossed his phone in the cup holder. He grabbed the steering wheel excitedly. “Oh, I know, we can pick up some chicks and take them out to lovers point.”

“I don’t understand you.” Jughead mumbled as he walked around the car and got into the passenger seat.

Archie smiled at him and started the vehicle. “I have I told you lately that I love you?”

Jughead, who was still covered in more blood than Archie would have liked, just stared as him unamused.

“You love me too!” Archie clutched his heart. “Awe, thanks buddy.” He went to ruffle Jughead’s hair but was deflected.

“Don’t.” Jughead warned.

“Let’s go get beer and women, and by women I mean woman and by woman I mean Betty.”

“Drive the car, Arch!” Jughead shouted.

“Jesus, you’re fussy after a hit.” Archie rolled his eyes and hit the gas and sped off towards central London.

“I just don’t understand why they can’t work it out.” Archie was half way through his first beer as they sat in the car and listened to shitty Top 40 radio.

“Well, sometimes, not every relationship works out.” Jughead was on his third, trying his best to comfort his friend.

“But they seemed so right for each other in the movies.” Archie shook his head.

“Those were movies… about vampires… and she cheated on him and she’s gay now and he’s engaged to someone else so it makes sense why they aren’t together anymore.” Jughead threw his finished can out the window and opened another.

“I know but still.”

“You should have never watched those movies with Betty. I don’t know why she even likes them.”

“She read the books.” Archie shrugged.

There was a silence and the two men both looked over at the back door of the building waiting for her to come out.

“How was your job by the way?” Jughead asked breaking the silence.

“It was good. It would have been better if I didn’t have to climb a tree but such is life.” Archie finished his beer and handed the can to his friend so he could throw it out the window. “How was yours?”

“It was hidden which I liked but it was in a cold wet basement which I didn’t.” He opened another beer and passed it to him. “The man who wanted her dead was there the entire time and he told me if I could make her scream he’d give me an extra ten grand.” Jughead stared off into the distance.

“Did she scream?” Archie asked curiously already knowing the answer.

Jughead continued to look out at nothing. “The entire time.” He brought the can to his lips and nearly emptied it.

“Why did he want her dead? Did he give a reason?”

“She was the new wife who didn’t like his young daughter so the new wife began poisoning the daughter until she died.”

Archie didn’t push Jughead any further and nodded, looking back at the door. He didn’t ask why the authorities weren’t involved, he knew the police were useless. He also knew there were a million reasons why someone came to them over the cops. Sometimes the thought of someone rotting away in jail just wasn’t enough for some people.

Killing was killing but torture took a special type of person. Jughead needed to kill, some people were just born with it in them. He needed the hands on experience and this job allowed him to do it in a healthy way but Archie never thought Jughead actually liked it.

“You need to get laid.” He said trying to change the subject.

“That’s your solution for everything.” Jughead looked over at the driver.

“It de-stresses me.”

“Well, you have a good partner.” Jughead stated quietly as the look he was giving Archie intensified. They stared at each other until they were startled moments later by the back door opening and Betty walking out.

#riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #betty x jughead x archie #betty x jughead #jughead x archie #betty x archie #violence

24 notes · View notes