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jacandra-cerise · 11 months

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CASE 01 [Blue Oak]

Current age: 20

Age of occurence: Unspecified age, around 8-9

Date of occurence: February 27 XXXX

Condition type: Mushrooms/Trees/Flowers

Condition: Oak, Willow, Anemones

Ongoing: Yes/No

No pictures had been submitted.

Background

Blue Oak was born in Pallet Town, Kanto. Most people he knows describe him as cocky, snarky, determined, and competitive, especially to his rival and friend. He currently lives with his older sister Daisy Oak in Pallet Town, near his grandfather, the well-known Professor Oak.

Path To Recovery

As much as the patient would like to keep whatever caused this a secret, he can't deny that his story has been well-known enough that there wouldn't be any point to leave out any details.

He states that this condition seemed to begin long before his well-known journey had begun. It's come to his attention that plenty of fans have been making their own theories about his journey, and he reluctantly confirms most of them to be true. From the moment he was born, he always seemed to grow in Red Phyre Sugimori's shadow. Despite his efforts and achievements, almost everyone around him seemed to prefer Red, who grew up with him, over Blue himself. Even his own sister, who he was pretty close to. He explained:

"I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but I just remember feeling my back hurt. Like, upper back. I thought nothing of it, just thought it was some back pain, but then more weeks passed and it just felt.. How am I supposed to explain painful, yet numb.. but like, normal at the same time-? Look, I genuinely don't know how to describe it."

He mentioned he had told Daisy about it, yet didn't get any results when they went to the doctor. He then ignored it. In the span of a year or two, his journey with Red, and eventually Leaf, had begun. Before he made his departure from Pallet, he suddenly saw some sort of sprout growing from his back when he looked at the mirror. He panicked and told his grandfather about it, yet his grandpa just brushed it off as one of his grandson's jokes, even when he insists it isn't. When he told Daisy, she told him there was nothing there, even touching his back to prove that there was no sprout or any kind of unusual lump. He decided to drop the subject.

The more time he spent on his journey, the more the sprout had grown upwards. Although, no one seemed to ever notice, even if it seemed like a bonsai had grown on top of his head. Finding out that nobody was able to see it and they wouldn't believe what he said, he just didn't try to ask for help anymore. What made him panic more was the fact that some flowers seemed to start growing on his head too. He mentioned he usually styles his spiky hairstyle a certain way so that he himself doesn't have to see them, although he usually tries to not look at himself in any reflective surface. These plants seemed to have a sudden growing speed at certain moments of his life.

Firstly was the death of his Raticate. He and Red had taken a break from their journey because of it, and it caused some sort of rift between their somewhat friendly-rivalry. The first tree seemed to have grown, along with another sprout that had started from his shoulder, which had grown rapidly during his break.

The next was losing to Red. The growth of the flowers and the first tree seemed to increase, somehow to the point he couldn't even hide them in his hair anymore. He had become the Champion of Kanto back when he was 10. Despite being the first trainer to receive this title at such a young age, he lost that title to his rival, Red, in the span of an hour. He explains that that moment had basically crushed him, and the fact that his grandfather showed up, only to say that he was disappointed and that he lost because he hadn't treated his Pokemon with trust and love, even though he already had, seemed to only crush him even more.

Due to the media seemingly not believing someone from the great Oak line would lose so quickly, he didn't show his face to the public as often as he usually did out of fear and embarrassment. That was until he got his position as Viridian City's gym leader.

Another one was the Mount Silver and disappearance incident. Blue had mentioned that, regretfully, he basically blew up at Red and Leaf when all they tried to do was check on how he was doing. In a few days, Red and Leaf had suddenly disappeared. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he was the reason why they had disappeared without warning. During this period, the second tree on his shoulder started to grow much faster than the other plants. This speed of growth then seemed to happen to the flowers and the first tree when he had started the first few days as the replacement for Viridian City's gym. This went on for another 4 years, until the three had been reunited.

At this point, the trees were getting bigger and the flowers had pretty much covered the top of his head. He explained that during that four year period and even after it, it was getting tough and tiring to do literally anything, even though he still felt like he could move freely. The pain was excruciating, yet somehow numb at the same time. He said that he has tried to cut off the flowers, since they were easier to dispose of than an actual tree, but they just seemed to appear back as if they were never cut. He then reluctantly admitted that when it got too overwhelming, he would [THIS SECTION HAS BEEN REDACTED DUE TO VIOLATION OF POLICY]. When asked, he mentioned that it wasn't the plants that usually overwhelmed him, it was everything and almost anybody around him.

One day, Red and Leaf seemed to have passed by and caught him crying in his gym when it was empty. He played it off like it was nothing [even desperately joking that he was possessed by a Gastly], but as the two insisted on him to tell them what had been wrong and bothering him, he broke down as they tried their best to comfort him. He hadn't told them anything yet, but made them promise that they wouldn't tell anyone about this. After a while, they all made sure to go back to Pallet Town together. The next few days, Red and Leaf visited Blue more, mostly just to try and keep him company. Blue, although preferring to stay alone during those moments, appreciates their efforts. After a few more months, he finally told them about some things that had been bothering him, yet made sure to stay vague in some specific parts. Red and Leaf didn't push at all and made sure to, once again, be there for him and comfort him to the best of their abilities.

In the next few months, he made more progress in his recovery. Eventually, he told his family members about everything that has been bothering him since he was young. First to Daisy, then to Professor Oak. It took a lot of effort and courage to do so, but he says that in a way, it all paid off. He says that it felt incredibly relieving to get it all out of his chest. His relationship with his family members got better, with Professor Oak being much more understanding towards his grandson. During this, he had mentioned that the plants felt like they were getting lighter and lighter. Eventually, the trees on his back and shoulder seemed to have withered and fallen off on his own, while the flowers atop his head had started to wither too. He claims that the only remains of the trees were just stumps awkwardly placed there. In a few more days, they seemed to have stopped growing, although some of their remains seem to stay on his body.

#pokemon #pkmn #trainer blue #trainer green

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iriemorning · 5 months

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return to sender

fluency in words comes with great expectations. as i was widely read since young, people hang on to what i say and so i often feel that looming pressure on my shoulder whenever i speak out and inform. in contrast, ideas breeze to me like petals in spring. i see all these foods for thought and i am a mere basket catching all of them. but whenever it's time for me to present them into something people can digest, my words don't come out easily—both written and orally.

analyzing literature pieces and academic papers are relatively easier, since you already have a source material to relate to (which is what my current degree is all about) the key there is finding twisted connections. you're not creating concepts out of thin air, unlike writing fiction. it is one of the most soul-sucking practice a human can ever do, so fermenting my ideas for a long period of time is a must. there are a lot of stories in my roster gathering dust for years, waiting for the miracle when i would finally have the time of day to write their first draft. but alas, i'm a chronic procrastinator; very much in love with outlining and daydreaming scenes more than actually putting the work to churn out words on the blank page.

nowadays i'm working on that weakness by writing a page everyday. it's a snail pace but i hope i can make it a habit in the long run.

there are fortunate times wherein i catch fully ripe fruits in my basket. my expertise is putting together various petals from different flowers altogether, creating a new, unique flower. ripe fruits though, is the quintessence of art in its absolute form. they come in my all-time favorites [TV shows and movies, animangas, comics, books, music videos, albums, paintings] and what im striving to make someday; to have a complete opus with my style and trademark.

but there are also terrible times wherein i receive unripe ones from the mail. my former colleagues, for example, have asked me for advice about their unfinished pieces. some even prompted me to revise the entire manuscript itself (that's like giving away free labor, being an editor is not for the weak), or changing the entire plot based on my suggestions. like woah, why would you trust me that much?

which is why i always walk on eggshells when giving out constructive criticism, or making offhanded remarks, because it might make or break someone's morale and negatively affect how they make their artwork. that's the last thing i want. i am a firm believer that we should all maintain creative autonomy on our own works, and how we live our life in general

so here is a big disclaimer: please treat whatever i say here in my blog (experiences, tips, realizations) with a grain of salt. they're rather N of 1 trials: i am a lifeseeking-researcher but i am also my own sole test subject, always putting myself in this microscopic stance with the rest of the world as a petri dish. i cannot guarantee that whatever works for me will also work for you. and just because i make direct eye contacts with the sun doesn't mean you'd also follow me and make yourself blind. the world is in constant flux, our cells are always regenerating, the energies are always changing. i grow everyday, and some epiphanies i get may not be applicable anymore the day after tomorrow, or a year later.

only take whatever seems useful for you in my basket of confectionery then leave the rest, at your own discretion; maybe even pass it on to the next person.

and there's more: ever heard of unwanted deliveries? annoying calls from unregistered numbers masking themselves as urgent? there are times when i receive these rotten fruits; situations that seemingly require my immediate attention and action but doesnt really fit my forte in life. i am just like any other twenty-something-year-old-woman, living my normal college life, having silly little crushes, spending my teensy-weensy outdoor moments reflecting because i didn't do that when i was young (i was just like any other rebellious teen too, not so special). so i could have been any of you. i am not a superhero, a mad scientist, nor an aspiring cult-leader. just a creatively-constipated storyteller

if you still wanna stick around, then welcome to my humble abode (maybe even cure my word constipation... is that a yes?)

but if i receive unwarranted energies, trust that i will send it back to your address

with love, xx

#creatively constipated storyteller #writer #writer life #im just a girl #for all twenty something teens out there #return to sender

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letarasstuff · 4 years

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Normal People don't know their IQ

(A/N): Inspired by me, who recently discovered normal people don’t know their IQ, while I was tested two or three times already...

Summary: A certain someone is the only way to get the UnSub. But there’s also something different that makes her special.

Warnings: Angst (fluffy end, I swear), language, mentions of rape and torture, mention of dead people, the usual CM stuff I guess Wordcount: 2.0k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________________

“Garcia, I need you to look into high school teachers, who are suspended or fired for inappropriate behavior towards students and live in the area of the kidnappings”, Hotch orders in a stern voice. But you can’t blame him, after all there are currently six dead teenage girls and one missing. One can only hope and work as fast as possible to get her back to her parents alive.

The team is working a case in Sacramento, California. Teenage girls get abducted on their way home from school, are held for exactly a week and are killed by a simple cut to their throat. The torture they have to endure beforehand isn’t as simple. The last two also show signs of rape.

The dumbing sites are different parks all over the city. The placing happens overnight only to have the girls found the next morning by a clueless jogger or stroller.

“Let’s go over the profile again, I feel like we are missing something”, Rossi commands. His gut feeling tells him only that much, he just has to find out what it is.

“It’s a white male in his mid thirties to late forties. He blends in, so he has to be or has been a teacher. Someone who looks like they belong into a school isn’t suspicious”, Spencer counts the facts.

“The victims all look similar, probably resembling an ex-wife or girlfriend”, Morgan adds. Before he can get into the depth of the torture a phone rings.

“My lovely crime fighters, I got an address. Charles Collins. philosophy and history. Got suspended for suggestive talk towards his female students. He is also said to stare at them and certain body parts for way too long and way too obvious. Gross. Annnd that- wait”

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asks after a moment of silence, which is unusual for the ever bubbly tech analyst.

“You got your profile wrong. Collins doesn’t take these girls because of an ex flame.”

The team looks at each other in confusion. Garcia always stresses how she isn’t a profiler and can’t judge over people, because she only wants to see the good in them. How is she able to tell that the profile is off?

“Shoot baby girl, we don’t have much time left”, Derek urges her. He wants nothing more than to have this SOB finally behind bars. The whole team wants that.

“He has a daughter. Technically it’s not his daughter, it’s someone else’s, but he is her foster father. Go and please save both girls!”

Penelope doesn’t have to say it twice. After a brief thank you and goodbye the team is on their way to the given address. As soons as they get there, everyone notices the absence of a car in the driveway. Hotch sends Spencer, Emily and Derek through the back door, the rest goes in from the front.

“FBI! OPEN UP!”

It’s needless to say that nobody opens up. There is no other way than kicking the doors down.

After entering the house and clearing the first floor, Rossi points towards the stairs that leads to the first story. There are only two rooms. A bathroom right hand and a closed door left hand.

Morgan counts quietly down before also kicking this door down and screaming “FBI!” But he seemingly talks with air, because there is no one to be found. Once again the team swarms out to look for evidence or clues.

As Spencer looks through the room they cleared last, he sees various things that make him smile. Several bookshelves are flooded with all kinds of genres, authors and covers. At first he can’t make out in which way they are sorted. But a closer look makes him realize that they are sorted by the author’s birth year. The doctor is kind of impressed, because that means the person knows when they are born in order to find a certain book. He likes the idea, it is a nice little challenge.

While he investigates further a sound makes him stop. He sends a text to Emily and waits for her. When she enters the room Spencer gestures to her to keep it quiet. Then he points to the bed.

They lower themselves down to the floor at the same time on each side of it. A girl, no older than 14 years, lays there shivering in angst. With big doe eyes she looks at Spencer and whispers:

“Please don’t hurt me.”

A while later the team is back at the station with the girl sitting in one of the interrogation rooms. The temperature is already set down, though Hotch feels really bad for it. Still there is another girl out there waiting to be safed.

“Baby girl, what can you give us on her?” Morgan sets his phone in the middle of the table and switches the speaker on.

“Our little girl’s name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), fourteen years old. Parents were deemed to be unable to look after her since they are both heavy drug addicts and didn’t even register her crying for two hours straight. Since the age of six months she bounces through the system with nobody wanting to keep her longer than two years. They claim she is too smart for them and want somebody to look after her, who can challenge her intellectually.

“Collins took her in one and a half years ago. He got her signed up in several activities after school, like chess and academic decathlon. As of right now she is a junior with an opportunity to graduate next year. Her teachers describe her as incredibly bright with a complicated way of thinking.”

“Complicated way of thinking? Her intelligence was neglected for years, so she gave herself her own challenges. I found her books sorted by the birth year of the authors. She found ways of making things more difficult for herself, that’s why she fabricated strange ways of thinking. This is often found in children with high intelligence, who are not boosted enough by their environment”, Spencer explains, getting more and more furious.

His colleagues feel that this is a sensitive subject for their resident genius. JJ comfortably puts a hand on his shoulder, making the tense go away.

“Emily and Dave, I want both of you to interrogate her. We need to know where he hides the girls. JJ, try to hold the press off for a bit longer. Morgan, Reid, I want you to watch and look for tells or anything else”, Aaron orders.

Everyone works on their given task immediately.

You don’t need to be a profiler to see that (Y/N) is scared out of her mind. She has her feet on her chair and her head lies on her knees. When the two agents enter, she tries to at least fake some kind of composer. But she fails miserably at it.

“Hello (Y/N), may I call you that?” Emily begins in a soft voice. The teenager nods shyly. “Good, (Y/N). My name is Emily Prentiss and this is David Rossi. We are agents from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. Do you know why you are here?” The teenager shakes her head.

“Ok, let’s cut the chase”, David's voice booms through the small room. “You know exactly why you are here. From what we saw in your room you are an incredibly smart girl. How high is your IQ? 130? 135?”

“147 a-actually”, she nervously corrects the agent, never meeting his eye. The team notices this fairly quickly.

“Even better, normal people don’t know their IQ. So you know what your forster father does. You saw the news, you read the papers, you heard your classmates talk. In addition to that, the girls look alarmingly similar to you. And all of the sudden Charles is more often out than usual. So do us a favor and come clear.” Then he pulls out a picture from a manila folder on the table. Emily tries to intervene.

“Rossi, don’t. She is not the UnSub. (Y/N) is just unfortunate to be at the wrong place.” “She might as well be another UnSub if she doesn’t do anything to help us. Do you know how long you are going to jail for helping hi-”

“I don’t know anything. I- of course I saw what is h-happening. A-and I connected the dots a long time a-ago. You know, Charles lost his job and that’s a stressor. T-then Child Service was investigating him, because of the suspension’s reasons. I-I couldn’t do anything. I had no evidence, the police wouldn’t believe me. I asked him once wh-what he thinks about, you know, what’s happening. He slapped me and told me to not talk about it again. I’m so sorry, I wanna help. The only thing that comes into my mind is an old cabin he once mentioned when I first arrived at his. B-but I don’t know if it helps you. P-please, I don’t want to go to jail or juvenile, I-” Then (Y/N) breaks down into tears.

Emily is in an instant by her side trying to calm her down, while Hotch gives the information to Garcia. As soon as she finds the location, JJ takes a seat next to (Y/N) and the rest of the team flies out.

“You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, Sweetheart. My colleagues will find him and he will be tried and convicted. He will never be a threat to you again”, the blonde tries to comfort her.

“Whenever I leave an abusive home, there will be another one that’s exactly the same. The only difference with Charles was that he seemed to understand me. He helped me. There’s nobody who is willing to do what he did for me”, she admits sadly.

It breaks JJ’s heart, because her words are true. Even though he is a killer, Collins did help her. But she is also determined to show the young girl that he isn’t the only one who can do that. That there are more people out there, who are kind and as helpful if not more.

Not long after this the team brings the man into the station, Morgan guiding him with a deadbolt-like grip.

Rossi spots (Y/N) in a break room with a hot drink in her hands. While making his way over there, Spencer follows him. He wants to talk with her as well.

“(Y/N) I’m sincerely sorry if I hurt you earlier. I didn’t intend to scare you, we just had to act quickly and you were the only source of information available. I also wanted to tell you, that your achievements are astonishing and I guarantee you a bright future, maybe even at the FBI”, he winks at the end of his last sentence.

“I understand, Agent Rossi. But doesn’t everybody know their IQ? I assumed everybody gets at least tested once in their life in some way”, she asks with surprise in her voice.

At that the older man is speechless. Of all things she could accuse him of legitimately, (Y/N) goes with the most innocent question.

“Actually, not everybody gets tested. A reliable test has to be done by a psychologist and most people don’t go to one. Furthermore there has to be a valid reason to do one, that’s why a great part of the population doesn’t know their IQ”, intervenes Spencer. He has to infodump, since the last time was over half an hour ago.

“But you also have to differentiate between the several kinds of intelligence, because intelligence is way more than being good at math. There…”

Rossi stopped listening to the excited interaction between the two geniuses. Instead he watches their body languages and facial expressions. He hasn’t seen both of them more at calm than they are now.

After all there might be a way for (Y/N) to get a little Happy End.

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moonshineboyz · 3 years

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Stupid Sorry || Kim Sunwoo

Pairing: Sunwoo x fem reader

Genre: angst, lovers to exes

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: cheating, Sunwoo is an asshole, tiny tiny bit mention of alcohol??

a/n: sunwoo baby i'm so sorry, ily okay? xjwodowndw i got a little too engaged in this one and it may or may not has been based on some personal experiences,,,

masterlist ♡

You should've listened when everyone told you that high school sweethearts not always are meant to last, or that you were too young and naïve to enter a relationship during that time. But you chose to ignore all of it, following what your heart wanted. You were too infatuated with Sunwoo to say 'no' when he asked you out for the first time, fidgeting with his own fingers and trying hard to maintain eye contact with you.

You were part of the same group of friends, even though you didn't talk much to each other back then. But you found yourself head over heels for him since day one. Sunwoo was absolutely handsome and a kind person, his sweet voice echoing in your ears every time he laughed. It was impossible not to fall for him.

And that's how you two ended up dating throughout the years of high school.

Everything was perfect in the beginning; you were always together in between classes and during breaks of his soccer training, sharing small displays of affection and little pecks on the lips. You had lovely dates at cafes, movie theaters and parks whenever it was possible. You felt so happy with him, and he seemed so happy with you too.

All your friends used to gush over how you and Sunwoo were such a cute couple, even daring to say you guys were relationship goals. Everything just felt so right with him, just a simple look into his eyes and it was enough for you to feel just as loved as he was by you.

One year into the relationship already and it was like you were living in a fairytale. But then it happened.

Sunwoo was napping in your bed while you finished a book you were reading; you had come home after your last exam for the semester and Sunwoo promised he'd treat you to some ice cream since you hadn't had much time for each other in the past two weeks. But he said he needed to rest just a little, due to the past late-night trainings with his team. You agreed and offered him your bed.

It wasn't long till his phone started vibrating on your desk, to which you brushed it off at first. But it didn't stop, and then you thought that maybe it could be something important. You grabbed his phone and a female name appeared in the notifications, there were several messages attached to it. Your heart sank. It was the same name as the girl he swore that wasn't his ex but only an old crush of his, and that they didn't even talk anymore.

"Did he lie?" Was all you could think. You couldn't seem to understand if nor even why he would lie about this, you were very open with each other and there wouldn't be a problem for him to tell you about his past lovers, or who they were.

With his phone still on your hand, you glanced at his sleeping figure and back to the screen, wondering if it was okay to take advantage of the fact that you knew each other's passwords. You didn't want to look through his stuff, it was his privacy, you felt bad in doing that but something inside you was screaming to do it. You could already feel the guilt creeping up. His phone vibrated again and it was the last straw for you.

You unlocked the screen and opened the texts, your eyes running through them. She was saying things like "I miss you"; "When are we going to see each other again?"; "It's been such a long time"; and even some suggestive pictures from her. The worst part was that your boyfriend was responding to the girl, flirting back, saying he missed her too.

You didn't even realize when you fell to the floor on your knees, hands shaking almost dropping the cellphone. Putting the item aside, the shock consuming your body, you sat there in the middle of your room, hugging your knees close to your chest while tears were starting to blur your vision, and you let them out. Crying so much but trying hard not to sob loudly so Sunwoo wouldn't wake up. Heart miles per hour and mind a total mess. For how long has this been happening?

It was hurting so bad, like a thousand knives cutting through your chest. You didn't know what to do. You didn't know what to think. Should you break up and end everything after confronting him? And how should you do it? What should you ask exactly? Even though it was painful, part of you didn't want to break up. You knew it was ridiculous to not want to do that, to not want to put yourself in the first place, but you didn't want to be alone. Sunwoo was the first guy who showed any interest in you and you felt like the only girl in the world. And not to mention, you didn't want to have to tell your parents and friends the reason why you two broke up. What would your parents say about it? And your friends? Your family liked Sunwoo so much, he was already part of it, and both you and Sunwoo had mutual friends. You didn't want to go through it.

The young boy eventually woke up to you pacing around with heavy steps, he looked at you confused and called out your name, making you jump startled. You rubbed your eyes wiping the remaining tears and faced him, waiting for him to say anything while you thought of what to say, heart beating fast again. He let out a "Baby, what's wrong?", and you felt sick at the nickname. Tossing the phone on his lap you asked who was that girl and "What the fuck does that mean?", chocked voice trying to sound firm.

Sunwoo immediately approached you dropping to his knees and holding your waist, his teary eyes looking up at you while he mumbled a lot of apologies, saying he didn't know why he was doing that and begging you not to leave him. You could only stare back at the wall in front of you, a blank and expressionless face. He hugged you even tighter burying his crying face in your belly. You wanted to scream, to yell at his face. You wanted to be swallowed by a hole in the ground and just disappear. But you couldn't even move, just listening to his lame excuses and stupid "I'm sorry"s, his voice sounding far away.

After demanding him to go and leave you alone, you let your body fall on the softness of your mattress, where he was just a few minutes earlier and his scent was still there on your pillow, which made your heart hurt even more. You hugged your pillow and cried your eyes out, until your head started to ache and you fell asleep.

On the next day you met Sunwoo and he swore he didn't do anything with the girl, it was just texts, and yes that was his ex. Didn't matter how you looked into it, it still counted as cheating for you. But you decided to give him another chance anyway, because as you stated to yourself, you didn't want to be alone. However, the time that followed wasn't easy, at least not for you. You still felt bittersweet towards all that situation and your stomach almost churned every time he touched you or looked into your eyes saying he loved you. But it was nothing like that to Sunwoo, he never mentioned the occurred and acted as if nothing had happened.

Everything was seemingly back to normal and you were living in your fairytale once again. You could ignore that fact easier now, even though there were still times where you'd catch yourself wondering if you lacked in anything for Sunwoo. He knew very well how insecure you were, how you were afraid of him finding someone better and prettier. You always thought he deserved better and questioned what had he seen in you, and he'd say he loved you to the moon and back, that you were oh so beautiful and you were his only one. You also knew some of his own insecurities, but you just couldn't care less about other guys when you had Sunwoo.

But even though he was aware of your fears, low self-esteem and lack of confidence, it happened again.

You thought of spending the soccer training's break with your boyfriend since your class got dismissed earlier. And there he was, sitting on the side bench with one of his teammates, their backs facing you as you approached them. It seemed like they were arguing and something the other guy said made you stop in your tracks.

"Okay, but if you tell my girlfriend about me, I'm telling Y/N you kissed my sister at my party last week. I don't think she'll like that."

Your world collapsed for the second time; you could almost hear the sound of your own barely mended heart shattering again. Not wanting to believe it. You already knew that feeling but it felt way more painful in the second time.

You were still frozen when Sunwoo looked back and saw you standing there, his eyes widening. You only scoffed at him and turned to get out of there before he could even move towards you. But he was faster and reached you, grabbing your wrist to make you face him.

Silence.

He stared into your eyes for what felt like a whole hour until you snapped and yelled at him to get away from you. You didn't notice the tears rolling down your cheeks as you angrily stared back at him. The boy started weeping trying to hold your hands as he kept on babbling about being drunk at the party and saying he was sorry. "Another stupid sorry", you thought. It was comic how he believed that shedding some tears and mumbling halfhearted apologies were enough to make everything alright.

That night you cried yourself to sleep once more, ignoring all his texts and calls from the moment you stepped into your house. The hurt was so much that even your body experienced physical pain.

You spent the entire following week pretending you were too sick to get out of bed, but the truth was that you didn't want to face Sunwoo and any of your friends. Every day felt like a torture, you woke up with swollen eyes and a massive headache due to crying so much, crying over someone who didn't deserve your tears, let alone any piece of your attention. And you knew that. But you still were too pathetic to let go.

If it was hurting that much, if you knew you should just walk away, then why were you still holding onto it? It wasn't even the first time. Why even bother to stay in an already broken relationship like that? Only because you didn't want to be alone? To feel lonely? To be ashamed by the other's reactions? Especially now that you'd given him another chance before and were planning on giving one more?

Unfortunately, you couldn't deny that you loved Sunwoo. But God was it painful to love him. You didn't know if you could blindly trust him like before, but you were too deep in love with him to care. Even if it hurt.

After a whole week avoiding any and every source of contact with him, you finally sat down to listen, although you shouldn't, already cursing yourself for being in this situation again.

Sunwoo told the same lame excuses, one more time saying he didn't know what he was doing, blaming the alcohol, and that the kiss meant nothing because he still loved you. To be honest you barely even listened, just wishing to go back and pretend you had a beautiful relationship where he was very loyal and honest to you.

And so you did.

You went back to your classes next morning swearing you had a really bad flu the past week and no one seemed to doubt it. Great. You and Sunwoo were acting like lovebirds again and everything looked fine.

This time you were feeling kind of numb and didn't cry every night, but obviously this didn't mean your heart wasn't broken. You wondered how he could be so insecure like you, saying he was also afraid of some more interesting guy getting your attention but still, he was the one who cheated. Twice. Or at least you thought it was twice.

Honestly the time that passed from the second heartbreak was quite okay, Sunwoo did everything you wanted to do, treating you well and telling you sweet things. But it didn't last long.

It was scary the fact that he never felt distant for you to suspect anything, not even in the two other times and not even now. He could manage this character so well, acting all nice and sweet but doing you dirty behind your back. Apparently, he wasn't that transparent and easy to read as you were, you couldn't see through him. He was like a foggy mirror. Not even a glass window, but a mirror, only reflecting your own image because you just couldn't see his true self. And you realized it a bit too late.

This was what you were thinking right now, seeing Sunwoo seated on a bench in the park both of you used to go to have your favorite ice cream. Under the moonlight, ready to kiss this girl, face too close, hand on her chin just like the way he always did to you. You didn't know your heart could break even more.

This time you were even seeing him shamelessly cheating on you, and you wished you didn't because it hurt so damn much. But in a way you felt thankful you were aware of this trashy behavior of his, or else you wouldn't give much credit when a random guy you've never seen messaged you in your social media saying he believed his girlfriend, which happened to be Sunwoo's classmate, was cheating on him with your boyfriend. And you wanted to see it for yourself even more after the guy told he checked the girl's phone location, went to the park and actually saw them.

"Are you done making a fool of me?"

He pulled away quickly from the girl and got up, looking at you with those fake pleading eyes saying the typical "That's not what you think it is", but you knew it was. You stared at him coldly, chewing on your bottom lip to suppress your tears. The girl quietly got up mumbling something you didn't care to listen and left.

Sunwoo took a step closer and that was when you finally broke into tears, filled with anger and sadness. You pointed a finger at him asking how could he do such a thing. Running your fingers through your hair in frustration, you took a deep breath, tired of dealing with his bullshit.

"Let's break up."

"What? But we're fine." You scoffed at this; he must had been kidding.

"No, Sunwoo, we're not fine. I'm not fine. It's enough, I'm tired." He tried to hold your hand but you pulled it. "Do you even care about how you hurt me? Have you ever been honest with me for once?"

"Oh, you want me to be honest? Fine, I'll be honest with you." He furrowed his brows. "You know that first month we started dating? I cheated on you twice. Why? Because I didn't know if what he had was going to last."

And then it hit you like a truck, more than you've ever imagined. A pain that could dilacerate you. Sure neither of you knew whether or not it'd work out, but the scene of Sunwoo shyly asking you out replayed in your head. And then on your first date he confessed he'd already been in love with you for quite some time, and you felt so happy. If he was that in love, wasn't he supposed to at least give his best and try to make the relationship work?

You looked at him in disbelief. So this was his true self? He wasn't even sorry, never had been.

Glaring into his boba eyes for the last time, your entire relationship flashed in your mind. The shared sweet kisses, shy smiles and lovingly glances, the small dates and slow dances in the quiet of his room. Everything now destroyed.

"Don't ever talk to me again." You gulped feeling a lump in your throat, not having any more strength to argue with him.

You turned your back and began to walk away, tears falling from your eyes again.

Sunwoo didn't say his stupid sorry this time.

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rose-colored-amy · 3 years

Text

So, this is a continuation to my extremely short one-shot Last Moments, Last Regrets, but it can be read as a stand-alone. Regardless, I'll leave the link of that one in here:

Also, thanks to @coeurhh for suggesting I write a second part. You're a sweetheart 🥰

She made a lovely fanart/gif, which I'm also sharing, of course:

Prompt: AU. Sakura's death goes unnoticed to everyone but the squad she protected with her life and Tsunade. Team Kakashi doesn't find out until the very end, when Naruto and Sasuke have already had their fight, and there's nothing to do about it but mourn the absence.

Warning: Mild Sasusaku and lots of angst. Team 7 sort-of-fluff (?)

—Blue Bird, Let Go—

"Hey, bastard... I know they really let us down, the village, I mean."

"Aa... "

"But I really think it's not all that bad. When we were I team, I knew you understood. It felt like having a brother, believe it."

They were watching their lives go by, shadows of unknown faces passing by them, not noticing their pain, or not caring whatsoever. Their backs were touching, but it was all cold and bleak; a bad memory. A clan slaughtered, a demon sealed. Two lonely boys wallowing in their own sadness.

"Well, even if I don't make it, I'm glad it was you, bastard—"

"Shut up, idiot." His voice sounded strained, even for his standards, but Sasuke was so tired he couldn't even bring himself to care.

"We're really dying, ah? Wanna say something? I do have things to say, 'cause there's no way I'm dying—"

"In silence?" Sasuke interrupted, but Naruto payed him no mind.

"Without telling you how much of an asshole you've been! I couldn't even keep my promise to Sakura-chan! She's gonna be so damn mad when she finds out, I'm sure she'll drag me back to life just to cave my face in—" He was rambling at that point, but it was just so comforting and normal to Sasuke that he didn't even acknowledge it anymore.

"Hn. Sakura... She..."

"She still loves you, asshole. I don't have any idea how it can be possible but—"

"I'm sorry..." It sounded rushed, but Naruto heard it perfectly, and in the darkness of their shared consciousness, Sasuke heard a resigned sigh.

"Well, it's not that bad. I cannot imagine dying beside anyone but you, bastard."

"Idiot..." He made a pause. "Me neither."

"You're both a pair of idiots!"

Suddenly, the unreadable mass of unrecognizable faces around them cleared, and one figure stood in front of them, pink eyebrows frowned in annoyance. Though this version of Sakura looked familiar, it was one none of the boys had seen in a long time. Genin, long-haired, Sakura was glaring at them, arms crossed.

"Sakura-chan! What are you doing in here?!"

Her eyes softened. "What, so I'm supposed to let you two die, after everything? No way in hell!"

"Sakura..."

"You!" She pointed at Sasuke, who flinched slightly at her rudeness. "I don't know what the hell happened, but I don't care. Lighten up and start being your moody self. We love you just like that! Don't act so repented and shit! If you're sorry stop looking like a lost puppy and start doing something about it, you asshole!" Her voice was raising with madness and it was slightly off putting to see what used to be a stuttering lovestruck preteen talking to him like that.

Naruto snorted at that, obviously delighted for not being at the receiving end of her wrath for once. It was short-lived, however.

"And you!" She pointed at the blonde; then crossed her arms. He jumped back in fright. "What is this? How dare you even consider dying after you promised to be the best goddamned Hokage in history?! Here I am, rooting for you, while you lay around like a lazy pig with your edgy bro there. You should be ashamed of yourself!" She scoffed.

Naruto's mouth was so wide open he could have caught a fly. "Lazy pig? Are you kidding?!"

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, half amused, half annoyed. "Edgy?"

Suddenly, the edges of their vision began to blurr, like a genjutsu being unravelled. "Ah, someone came to help you at last." Sakura seemed relieved. Strangely so.

"Hey, Sakura-chan! You know what? You're right. I'll be the best damn Hokage ever, believe it! Just you watch!" He threw a punch to the air.

Seemingly placated and pleased with his answer, she nodded. "I know so." Then, she turned to her other teammate, who was concentrating solely on her face, mismatched eyes softened as they'll ever be. "And you'll make sure he doesn't mess up, right?"

They shared a long silence. There was something strange about Sakura aside her appearance. He could tell. "Hn. I will..."

"Hey! I don't need him watching over—"

"Sure you don't." He countered sarcastically.

"Also..." They turned to her again. "I'm sorry."

"Wha—" Naruto stuttered. "What the hell would you be sorry for, Sakura-chan?! If anything, it's the bastard here who should be apologizing to you!"

"Sakura..." Sasuke seemed to be searching for the right words, but she couldn't let them go without them listening to her. To what she needed them to know. There wasn't much time left after all.

"I'm sorry, because I wasn't what you needed..." She closed her eyes, her pretty minty orbs. Her appearance suddenly shifted, before then now standing her true self, still dressed in the standard shinobi uniform of the alliance. Her forehead protector lost to whoever knows where. "And thank you. You both made me stronger. You made me appreciate what I had. And I'll always, always love you. Our moments together like team seven... I'll treasure them for all eternity."

"Sakura-chan..."

"I know Konoha wasn't the best to you both, but don't forget the good... The wholesome moments. It's all that matters in the end... Our bonds, the bonds you managed to forge with sweat and blood... The world we live in, the world that gave me the chance to meet you. To me, that's to be cherished. Forever."

The white light started overwhelming the rest. Even Sakura's features started dissapearing.

"Live. Just live." For that, she specifically stared at Sasuke, a soft smile playing on her lips. "And thank you."

Sasuke started racing towards her, hand stretched, a forebonding understanding shaking his bones. "Sakura!"

And then, they both lost consciousness.

When they woke up, aside from feeling like shit, the first thing that crossed their minds what the finality of Sakura's words. Tsunade was beside them, patching them up, with Kakashi beside her, silently watching over them.

"About time, brats! What were you think—"

"Baa-san." Naruto interrupted her, his voice the most serious she had heard him until then.

"Where's Sakura?" Sasuke finished for him, his eyes icy and detached, trying to keep his worry at bay.

But she didn't need to answer. Her chakra flow hesitated, spiking with sorrow. Her eyes glistening with unbearable loss. Kakashi, at her side, stared, eyes widened in comprehension.

She was gone by a long shot.

And they were just finding out.

...

Everybody had different ways of dealing with loss. Naruto helped rebuild the village along with everyone else, but he skipped his usual meals, his ramen left forgotten in his kitchen counter. His movements when sparring were sloppy at best, not just because of the new prosthetic limb, but also because his mind was clearly somewhere else. Usually, Shikamaru would drag him out his makeship house, like he had done when Jiraija was gone for good. Sometimes, he would bring Ino with him, who was suspiciously skinny and messier than normal. No makeup covering the dark circles under her eyes.

Kakashi spent more than usual at the memorial stone every day, tracing the newly marked name of the girl who once remained him of Rin but that had come to claim a place for herself in his heart. Also, he took more missions than it was allowed in a month, going so far as to pick up his ANBU mask again, which caused an altercation with Tsunade, who hadn't been sober in a long time and had been hoping to hand the Hokage seat to him.

Sai avoided the color pink for a long time.

Sasuke... Well, he dealed with loss the same as everyone else... Longing for the missing person to be there, itching to have the opportunity to say what he couldn't at the time. Wanting to be alone whenever they would reach for him... And he built a tomb for her in hopes to find some closure. Not that official, because there wasn't a body to bury, and it had no name, but it was enough for him. He would bring with him camellias every day, buying them at the Yamanaka's, where Ino would always glance at him in silent understanding.

One morning, on his way to her tomb, he spotted a young shinobi leaving a white lilly for her. When he came by, the child spoke without a care, like they were acquaintances. "This is Sakura-san's, right?"

"Hn." It wasn't really an answer, but the child seemed to understand anyway.

"You know? Mama and big sister are also buried in these grounds... I always talk to them and tell them about my day and stuff I want them to know!" He turned to the Uchiha, a smirk on his cherubic face. "I'm sure she would appreciate it as well." And just like that, he left without another word.

Sasuke sat on the ground, just in front of the stone, mismatched eyes half lidded. Sensing no one in the vicinity, he exaled a shaky breath, and his dam opened up, the words longing to be said broke the silence he had been wrapping around himself since he knew of her death:

"I miss you... I've been missing you since I first left."

#naruto #sasusaku #team 7 #naruto uzumaki #kakashi hatake #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #tsunade senju #post war #fanfiction #sai #ino yamanaka #angst

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lyracasstuff · 4 years

Text

I am NOT prepared to make myself sad,, you FRENCHIE!! ಥ⌣ಥ

However,, I will accept because as much as it pains me to write angst,, I also have to in order to improve my writing skills..

I'll do this in one shot/fic form as I feel as though I can convey emotions there better. That and I've been doing headcannons as of late,, so let's switch it up a notch..

WARNINGS: DEATH, BLOOD, SPOILERS FOR JOSEPH'S BACKSTORY

Joseph x fem! S/o

To be Sick at Heart💔

"How did this all happen?" thought the Frenchman, although it was more retorical, as he already knew deep down the answer to that question... He just can't accept it..

You had been an acquaintance to Joseph before, seeing as how your family served him, and the both of you only grew closer once you got caught in the twisted "games" of the manor. Joseph asked as to what had tempted you to accept the invitation of the manor.

It turns out, you were looking to find people who you can treat as your own family. In all your life, you practically had been treated like dirt, especially the time when Joseph had gone missing. Your family had given you love and acceptance, but it was short-lived seeing as how their lives were slowly taken from them early on in your life by sickness, you had no one but the other servants to take care of you.

The other servants cared for you, but not to the same extent as your family... You were aware of that fact as did they. So, when the invitation arrived, you couldn't help but accept right away.

It promised that "they" could fulfill your desire of having the bonds and relationships that you never had growing up, why wouldn't you accept? You would be missing out on a golden oppurtunity.

And so, that was how you ended up in this morbid manor, tricked and forced to participate in these "games" that gets everyone hurt much like every other survivor who came here...

Days had gone by. Weeks. Months. Hell, even years, and you were all still being forced to play.

Thankfully, you had everyone to keep you company during these times.. Thanks to your loving nature, you were able to be close with everyone in the manor, even those who are notorious at being secretive like Norton. You even managed to befriend some of the hunters as well.

But most especially of all, you were thankful you had Joseph to be there with you.

You were quite shocked when you saw the silver-haired count, as he had seemingly disappeared out of nowhere the last time. So to see him here made you pleasantly surprised.

Joseph as well felt shocked when he saw you here, albeit he took some time to figure who exactly you were as you looked extremely familiar to him.

It didn't take long for the both of you to grow close to each other where outside of matches, you two were practically inseperable. The both of you would be spotted having afternoon tea together, walking around the manor together, sightseeing for new photoshoot locations together.

You always did things together...

Over time though, you would grow feelings for the count and the same can be said for Joseph as well. However, your fears of being rejected has delayed the both of you from ever confessing about your feelings toward each other. The others in the manor can most definitely see your connection as bright as day, but they really didn't know how to go about helping you about it. After all, all of them never really had great experiences in their lives, so they don't know what would normally be best in a situation like this..

Despite this, you can't help but feel content and happy that you have found people that you can treat as your family. Emily and Michiko were like motherly figures to you with their kind nature. Leo treated you like his own daughter, much like how he treats Emma. Wu Chang, Andrew, Norton, Naib, and Eli were like big brothers for you, always being protective of you to keep you safe.

You really felt at home with all of the inhabitants. It almost felt as if being stuck in a manor wasn't so bad after all...

Almost

There was still one more thing you wanted to do. You had discovered your family, but you wanted to expand on that desire..

You wanted to start your own family

And you would want to do so with someone you love... That someone would be the Frenchman with whom you have grown immense feelings for.. So you sent him an invitation to go to the balcony of the garden at night, where you won't be disturbed by the others...

Unbeknownst to you, the Frenchman had been thinking the same thing, especially after reading the invitation you sent him. Can you blame him though? Seeing you interacting with him, along with all of the others, made him feel butterflies in his stomach. How you unconditionally helped the other inhabitants through their issues and suffering, not because you needed something from them, but because you wanted to. You wanted to help them, you wanted to nurture them, you wanted to support them...

With that feeling alone, Joseph finds that he just couldn't take it anymore... He wants to confess to you..

He wants to be with you, to call you his love, to marry you and call you his wife, and to start a family as well..

With that thought, he made up his mind and decided to accept your invitation, and there, he will confess..

It was night time, you were already at the balcony waiting, knowing that Joseph values punctuality and doesn't like to be kept waiting. Soon after, Joseph shows up. It seems as though he had been brisk walking which is evident by the way he's catching his breath in the slightest.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly and calmly began to confess your feelings towards him and how you wanted to start building a future with him as the father of your children.

Joseph was in awe, for he had never could've guessed that you felt the same way. He accepted, saying how he had always thought about you the same way, and that he would be honored to be the father of your children. Joseph took a few steps towards you, with you unconsciously doing the same. Joseph wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer, while you wrapped yours around his neck.

He lifted his hand and tilted your chin upwards to stare at your features, admiring them. The way your skin glistened in the moonlight, how your eyes sparkled with life when he stared at them. How your cheeks were flushed with the slightest hint of color.

You looked angelic to him.

Brushing his thumb over your lower lip, he slowly closed his eyes as he allowed his lips to connect with yours.. You can't help but reciprocate immediately, you'd been waiting for this moment to come. You truly felt happy that you took the risk to confess to him, knowing that he may have rejected you instead.

And that was the start of your blossoming relationship...

For the next few years, the two of you became more and more in love with each other every single day. Countless affirmations of love, bouquets of your favorite flowers, numerous cuddling sessions, along with the discussion of having a domestic life together..

You two really had the potential to have a wonderful life together...

But, there are repercussions in growing fond of the potential...

One time at a match, you had been feeling dizzier and more nauseous by the second, so much so that it frequently disoriented you from kiting the hunter properly. At some point even, you threw up a bit. Your team still won the match since the hunter decided to go friendly in the end because of your condition, however they were still concerned for you so they sent you immediately to Emily.

You were diagnosed to be pregnant..

Your thoughts immediately went to Joseph. A mixture of joy and anxiousness washed over you. Can be a good mother for your child? Can you really do this? Can you really start a family like you had promised? What if you do something wrong? What if you're not cut out for this?

Just as your thoughts began to generate more questions, Joseph runs in and looks over to you with wide eyes. Emily must've told him that you were pregnant with his child. He immediately went towards your bed and hugged you as he sobbed his heart out.

He was so convinced that the bright future you two head towards is certain...

Oh, how a fool he was for believing so....

2 months in and your belly hasn't been growing rapidly.. Normally, you would've had a small baby bump forming on your belly... Joseph and Emily had been constantly reassuring you that you might need to readjust your diet more to fit your baby's needs....

But, that's not the only thing bothering you...

You see, just as you haven't "developed" your baby, your dizziness and nausea didn't go away. For quite sometime, you thought it was normal.....

Until you see tiny specks and droplets of blood on your hand...

That's when you realize....

You're not actually pregnant.. You're sick...

Having this sudden realization, you quickly washed your hand and looked at yourself in the mirror... Maybe this was some sort of mistake? Maybe you're actually pregnant and you just scratched the inside of your cheek?

You were hoping. Praying, that it was anything else other than a sickness... However, as time passed, you felt yourself growing weaker and weaker...

For months, you had kept this sickness of yours a secret. You didn't want to make anyone worry about you and you especially didn't want to disappoint Joseph with the fact that you're not actually carrying a baby or make him devastated with your death just as he became devastated with his twin brother's death...

However, try as you may, the longer you kept it a secret, the more the others noticed. How your skin was getting paler, how your cheeks had started to sink in, how you became alarmingly skinnier and bonier, how your eyes became more dull and lifeless...

Most importantly, at how you became increasingly more secretive and quiet about all this.

Joseph was by far being more and more anxious than before. He didn't know what was happening. He wasn't an expert in medicine, but even he could notice that this isn't normal for a pregnancy..

Quickly carrying you to Emily, he asked for a check-up to see what was happening. You would've stopped him if it weren't for the fact that you were so weak, you couldn't move a muscle without hurting it.. There, he was informed about the condition you're in. He was just as shocked as you are, but there's a mixture of fear and hopelessness bubbling inside him...

No. He couldn't let this happen. Not again...

His breathing starts going rapid, his hands start shaking, he hugs himself as he looks at you at your weakened state with tears threatening to spill from his eyes...

Just as he was about to confront you, Victor had entered and pointed towards the main hall, signaling Joseph and Emily to go there.

Apparently, there's a meeting that's going to be held.

Joseph and Emily looked at each other before turning to look at you. Then, they quickly left the room, with you all alone inside with nothing but your thoughts and the life within you.. Or, what's left of it...

The meeting started once Joseph and Emily arrived as they were the only ones left to attend. Emily had to quickly explain your condition when some of the others questioned your whereabouts.. All were quite shocked and concerned about your sickness, however the meeting was said to be an important one so they had to stay. They'll just have to relay the information given to you by the time it's done..

After the meeting, everyone was so shocked and confused that for several moments, no one said a word.. Who wouldn't though? Because after all this time...

They were all finally free

Free from the clutches of the manor, free from the twisted "games", free from the prison that presented itself as a grand oppurtunity for everyone to get what they want.

They were free at last... Now, they can all live their lives as they want it to be...

Suddenly realizing this, Joseph quickly made his way back to your room. There was still hope he thought, he had hoped for you to get better and finally leave this prison together, along with the others.

But what he saw when he opened the door made him feel like his heart had been crushed into a million pieces...

There in your room, was you lying in your bed, breath shallow and rapid, crimson blood dripping from the side of your mouth and staining the sheets, your eyes looking duller and duller as ever...

You were grasping..

Grasping for whatever life you had left within you, it made Joseph run to your side quickly as he cradled your head in his arms, proclaiming you'll be fine and that you're all free now and that you just need to hold on for a little while longer..

But you both know that you won't make it..

You both know that Joseph is more so convincing himself, than convincing you..

The others had rushed in to see you, and they too were crushed for they also wished for you to escape with all of them...

You held Joseph's hand, and told him not to worry anymore.. Looking towards the others, you proclaimed that you had finally found the people that you can call your family, and that even if Joseph can't see you, you'll always be there for him no matter what.. And that you wish for him to be happy and enjoy his newfound freedom, without the confinements of the manor...

Joseph begged you to stay, to hang on, to stay strong, all while sobbing uncontrollably but to no avail...

You withdrew your final breath as your hand became limp, your eyes closed, and your body going cold...

...

You had died

For the second time in his life, he once again witnessed the death of someone he deeply cared about..

First Claude......... And now, you....

Joseph lost it as he let all his tears and sadness out.. Everyone, soon followed suit. They can't help but be crushed at the thought of their friend never making it on time for the escape....

The now former inhabitants of the manor prepared one last funeral in honor of your death, with Aesop embalming you, Andrew preparing the hole from which will forever be your resting place, Emma preparing the funeral flowers, while the others prepared the venue... The Red Church.. Everyone gathered and mourned for your death. By the end of it all, everyone left the cemetery and the manor together, with Joseph gripping a bar of the gate, longing to see you again once more and hoping that you were still alive somehow...

Alas, it never came. And so, he reluctantly left the manor and had trenched forward to live his life "to the fullest"...

But how can he ever live his life as he pleases when you're not around? How can he simply enjoy the pleasures of life when you aren't there to accompany him? How can he move on when he doesn't want to forget you?

These thoughts plague him constantly, as he stirs his tea mindlessly, looking into the distance, as his new "family" were chatting happily, not knowing what goes on inside his head..

He has a family now alright, but it wasn't perfect.. It wasn't with you.

That thought is enough to make him sick at heart, for he will never experience the joy he had longed for when you were still around...

Sick at Heart : to experience deep unpleasant emotions such as grief or disappointment

💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞

Author's Note: I hope you are all satisfied with this angst, Frenchie... Because you really made my day a bit sadder than usual..

Can someone pls request something fluffy the next time I open my requests?? I need some comforting chocolate cake after that bitter black coffee moment..(╥_╥)

Well,, until next time then! See you all in my next post!! (Ｔ▽Ｔ)💚

#identity v #identity v x reader #identity v oneshots #idv #identity v imagines #idv x reader #identity v photographer #identity v joseph #idv photographer #idv joseph #joseph desaulnier #joseph desaulnier x reader #joseph desaulniers x reader

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years

Text

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part VI/VII)

"the downfall"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadows @missmulti @accioweaslcy @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley16 @dianarte @skarlettmikaelson

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language, allusions to sex

A/N: my apologies for keeping y'all waiting for this one darlings, but here comes the next part YAYY! Enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

He had left me in the room that morning, alone, with regret and guilt straining my chest, with embarrassment and panic heaving over me, my only company being a terrible headache and a sore body.

I was still waiting for him to come back. Of course, he still lived in the apartment, but the day after, he slept at Shell Cottage because Bill needed help with the chores, and the next night at the Burrow because Molly had asked to keep an eye on 'the kids' —the kids being Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione— while she and Arthur were off to visit Andromeda, and at Lee's because Angelina was away and they were going to have a boys' weekend; in summary, he managed to avoid stepping into the flat while I was in there for an entire week.

I would be lying if I said the idea of moving out hadn't crossed my mind, but I knew I was being dramatic— we were being dramatic; we were adults, even if we forgot about it more often than not, and adults talk things out, so I decided to confront him at the only place I would manage to corner him; the shop.

When I descended from the office on the second floor, I spotted the ginger turning the 'CLOSED' to face the glass door. "Oi!" His head snapped to me as I climbed downstairs and he instantly walked to the shelves on the opposite side. "Can I have a word?" I requested, following him, only for George to move on to another shelf.

"Right now I'm quite busy." He replied, seemingly absent-minded as he pretended to check the products in front of him.

"This is important." I insisted, moving to stand besides him.

Not fast enough, though, because he was off to yet another part of the shop as soon as I got close. "I'm sure it can wait."

"You know it can't," I assured intently, stalking after him, only for him to speed up his own pace, moving from product to product without stopping too long in front of him. "George I'm- Oi, stop! We need to talk about this!"

"Well maybe I don't wanna talk about this!" He exclaimed, taking big steps under one of the stairs in order to shamelessly dodge the hand with which I had reached out to stop him.

"George Weasley don't run away from me!"

"I'm not running away from you!"

"You're literally RUNNING AWAY!"

He stopped circling the counter and stood across from me, slamming his palms over the till. "ALRIGHT, LOVE!" for the first time, I didn't like the way the name dripped off his tongue. "Let's talk about how we accidentally FUCKED! That's what you want so badly, isn't it?!" Flush crept up his neck and ears, and I couldn't tell if it was from anger or from timidness. "Go on, darling, lead the bloody way!"

I felt my own cheeks going red, partly because of his straightforward statement but also because I genuinely had never heard George raise his voice like he had just done.

"Cat's got your tongue now?!" My stuttering seemed to fuel his anger more. "C'mon, Y/n, talk! You wanted to talk!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, GEORGE!" He clenched his jaw as his freckles drowned in a sea of pinkish red. "Yeah I want to talk! 'Cause that's what grown-ups do! We don't know how to act around each other so we just don't spend time together anymore— Fuck, I've barely seen you! AND WE. LIVE. TOGETHER!" I emphasised each word with stomps. "We can either pretend it didn't happen or talk it out to make sure we're on the same page, you choose but for Merlin's sake, don't avoid me!"

"OKAY!" His eyes widened, surprised at his own tone, and then he repeated in a softer, self-conscious one, "Okay." He breathed deeply and then added. "We're on the same page, right?" His eyebrows raised as he looked into my eyes. "It was... A mistake."

I should have noticed the uncertainty and hope in his voice, but I panicked and was too quick to respond, "Yeah! A massive mistake." My words stung my heart and, to my dismay, his own just as much. "Can we go back to being friends? Because I'm going crazy without you." I blamed our watery eyes to the argument we had had, and not to the fact that it had been a mistake.

He circled the counter and walked to me, hesitating before pulling me into a hug. "Can I...?" I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his middle. It took a moment for him to ease into my embrace, and I could tell we had fucked up our friendship for good. "It's alright, we'll make it right again." His words made me squeeze him tighter, as if he was about to vanish from my side.

And from then, we tried to make it right, we tried so hard, because it seemed so easy to make it wrong again.

Everytime we stood too close, everytime he leaned on to whisper something, everytime I helped him with his tie, our eyes would fall on each other's lips; I would sometimes drift off the conversation, staring too much at his mouth and hands, wandering if they would feel just as amazing as they had done while we were drunk.

"Y/n are you listening?"

"Uh yeah- I mean, no- sorry, what?"

I was so focused on trying to hide it that I didn't notice George was in the exact same situation, meaning that neither of us could give in, because we would go down together. In all honesty, it was doomed to happen at some point, we were just delaying the inevitable.

The moment came the last night of January, when George showed up in my room due to a really rough nightmare, and I, as always, invited him in so we could lay down together.

"Isn't this... Weird?" He murmured as we scooted closer. We had kept physical contact at bay for obvious reasons, and cuddling had been off the table since New Year.

"It doesn't have to be." I replied, my voice as quiet as his. "We've done this a thousand times."

"Right." He cleared his throat, averting his eyes from mines as we shifted in our places ever so slightly, trying to find a position where the situation turned less awkward.

And it happened, my mind got lost on the way his neck tensed, on the damp locks hanging over his forehead, sweaty due to the nightmare; on his plump lips, which he had just wetted with his tongue in the most subtle way. It was a nervous habit of him, something he would usually do, but that didn't make it any less hot.

"George..." I called his name without noticing, my heart hammering violently against my chest when his gaze landed on my eyes, quickly falling on my lips.

The next thing I knew was that he was holding my thigh over his hip, his other hand on the back of my neck while we shared a hungry kiss that, as soon as my hips involuntarily rocked against his, turned into something more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

The next morning we swore to each other that it was just another accident, that it would happen again.

And the next one too.

And the following.

The fifth time that happened, we agreed to call the situation a 'friends with benefits' kind of thing, well aware that it was an euphemism for the downfall of our friendship.

I had longed to be hers for so long, and it that moment, as I lay by her side in her bed, that wish seemed so close yet so far; I could reach out and my fingertips would touch her skin, yet I had never felt that distant towards her.

The moment my eyes were averted from her form, her gaze was laid on me. "You don't have to go."

"I know." I replied in a mumble, already sitting up and reaching for my pants. "But soon we'll have to get up, so I might as well do that and let you sleep." I didn't want to turn around, I didn't want to see her beautiful irises pleading for me to stay by her side, because I knew I would.

I saw on my peripheral vision her fingers attempting to carefully wrap around my wrist, and I was quick to stand up and walk to the door; sadly, I did not miss Y/n burying her face into the pillow, her hands fisting on the fabric ever so subtly.

She tried to hide her tears like that, and I agressively wiped mines as soon as I reached the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Morning, lady!" I light-heartedly greeted Y/n without turning my back to the making of our breakfast when I heard the steps approaching the kitchen.

In the morning it was easier to pretend everything was back to normal; usually, the refreshing sunlight and the drowsiness provided by a night of sleep were enough to wash away the sad truth of our relationship.

"Good morning, sir." She responded with a yawn, rubbing her eyes as she walked to stand besides me, leaning against the counter with her arms folded. "Smells good." She commented, leaning on to take a peek at the scrambled eggs.

I was about to make a cocky, playful comment when it dawned on me what she was wearing; it was my jumper, one of the old ones that I exclusively used for pyjamas.

I knew she didn't do it intently; I had left it on the floor the previous night, and it was probably the first thing she grabbed, but it struck a nerve.

I had seen a similar scene way too many times before; a sleepy, dishevelled Y/n entering the kitchen with an ugly Weasley jumper as only clothing, ready to start the bickering with an almost identical version of me who would be making breakfast.

My head then travelled to the thought that lately crossed my mind more often than not and my heart clenched; In Y/n's eyes, I was, most likely, just a poor replacement for Fred.

"You alright?" That worried furrow appeared between her brows too often lately. We were both walking on eggshells, and it got me on my nerves.

"You don't have to ask if I'm alright every time I'm quiet." I hadn't meant it to come out harsh or curt, but it definitely did.

"You're not quiet, you're overthinking." She responded with a tinge of hostility.

"What's to overthink?" I fought the need to raise my voice.

"Dunno, you tell me." She squinted her eyes with a scrutinising gaze directed to me.

"Can we not do this?" I almost pleaded; heated arguments had become a usual thing between us —yet another sign of the unfixable problem we refused to address.

Y/n was about to reply something that would lead us into a fight when the doorbell rung. "Mister Weasley?" I took that as a cue to go open the door to Verity, already dressed on her uniform. "The Valentine's Day products arrived, should I unpack them or..." Her eyes flickered behind me and her cheeks heated up. "Y/n—" When I looked over my shoulder, I felt my own face flushing out of embarrassment. Y/n was still my employee and Fred's ex, so Verity catching a glimpse of her dressed in my jumper wasn't the best thing for any of us. "I— am I— sorry, am I interrupting?"

"You're not interrupting." I assured her with a reassuring smile. "Leave the boxes on the puking pastries section, we'll be down in ten."

"Alright, sir." Her curious gaze travelled to Y/n one last time, and with that, she was rushing back down to the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

The ache that had appeared on my chest the day after New Year would end up killing me, or at least it felt like that.

I had a dreadful gut feeling of knowing what caused that pain, but my mind refused to believe it was that, and kept pushing the sensation back into my heart day by day.

George had gone to relocate the puking pastries in the upper level of the shop so I could prepare the section with the Valentine's Day products.

My eyes dawned on the small packages of Amortentia. I knew it was a terrible idea but I needed to know.

I took a look around, making sure Verity wasn't near and George was up still, and brought one of the Amortentias under my nose. It didn't take long for the scents to besot me, and I had to put all my will on not to fall under the potion's spell.

The first smell to reach my nostrils was gunpowder; my heart skipped a bit when the next scent was vanilla.

Then strawberry and chocolate; candy floss cupcakes and George's cologne.

The tiny, heart-shaped bottle fell from my hands, scattering all over the shop's floor. "Shit!" I rapidly kneeled to pick the shattered glass when I realized it had echoed in the empty establishment.

"Oi! What was that?" George descended from the second floor, using the ladder. "Oh shit—" his hands took a hold on my bicep and pulled me away from the pool of pinkish pearl liquid that seemed to be attracting me. "Don't!" He warned Verity, who had attempted to jog in the potion's direction too. "Verity, can you bring me my wand?" The girl complied running up to the office.

In Verity's absence, George took the chance and cupped my cheeks, tilting my head up to check my eyes. "You alright?" I managed to give him a slow nod, my mind buzzing with the newly acquired information. "Getting the Amortentias was a bad idea, wasn't it?" I nodded again, producing a frown between his eyebrows. "No 'told you so'? Are you sure you're alright?" He chuckled nervously, his hands falling to his sides right in time for Verity to rush back to us.

"Here, Mister Weasley!"

"Thank you, darling." He politely replied, taking the wand and restoring the potion bottle in a swift movement. His eyes peeked at me again; I could see the worry growing on him. "Y/n-"

"I'm gonna go wash my face." The words hastily left my mouth before I dashed off to the restroom.

I closed the door behind me and took a look at the mirror; my pupils were blown and my cheeks pink. I ran the tab and splashed the water on my face a few times until the potion's mild effect was gone and my mind clear.

It was in that moment that it dawned on me that I was in love with George Weasley.

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artisqueer · 4 years

Text

RetroBangBoy AU - The Hangover (ao3)

Notes:

hang·o·ver /ˈhaNGˌōvər/ noun 1. a thing that has survived from the past. Example: "a hangover from the fifties" 2. a severe headache or other after-effects caused by an excessive intake of alcohol or drugs

Characters: OT7

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol.

Jungkook wakes up parched, hungry, and with a pounding in his head. He pushes the covers off his face and down his chest. His long fluffy hair standing from the static of the sheets. He stretches out his arms above his head, dragging out a groggy yawn. It feels like he’s just woken up from a century-long nap. He looks up past his hands outstretched in the air. The posters above his bed are the same. He looks down, past his bare feet at the bottom of the bed. His drum set, books, and gadgets are all in their place too.

Huh…what year is it?

A heavy thump on the other side of the wall startles him out of bed. The crash is immediately followed by a low moan. Jungkook dashes out to the hall where Yoongi is already standing at the entrance of the bedroom next door. His eldest roommate chuckles behind a mug of coffee, head tilted 90 degrees to the side. Jungkook peers inside the room to see the source of the ruckus, his round head naturally tilts to the side as well. They both stand in the doorway, observing their housemate, Namjoon.

On the floor, upside down, legs folded over his shoulders.

“Where are we?” he asks as he looks up at them from between his thighs.

Yoongi shuffles back to the kitchen, holding his head in pain. “It looks like we’re not in Jeju anymore…” His voice is raspy and deep.

***

Jungkook’s round eyes bounce back and forth across their house, looking for clues to explain their current predicament. His head is throbbing with pain too. He suddenly remembers his thirst and runs to the kitchen for water.

Once Namjoon has restored himself to a perpendicular position, he joins them in the kitchen too.

“Why does my head hurt? Did we get shit-faced last night?” Jungkook groans into the kitchen counter.

“I can’t remember,” Yoongi grimaces between gulps of coffee.

“Is it a week-day? We have never gone out on a school night… I would never go out on a school night!” Namjoon folds his thick arms across his chest and blinks. “I’m so hungry.”

Jungkook turns away from the sink and his eyes pop at the sight. A whole ass meal, complaining about the lack of a meal...in the kitchen of all places. pls.

“Me too. We better go out for food. There’s nothing to eat here.” Yoongi says with very little energy.

“How can that be? I always stock up on groceries!” Namjoon frantically checks the cabinets and cupboards, finding them all bare.

“What the hell did we do?” The two eldest housemates look at one another, dumbfounded. Jungkook leans into the kitchen wall, aggressively chewing on his thumb. He's nervous, eyes big and wide. He opens his mouth to speak when the phone rings.

Ring ring ring.

Namjoon answers it, rather desperately. “Hello?”

“Good, you’re home.” The voice on the other end breathes out a sigh of relief. “It’s me. Taehyung. Emergency meeting. Your place. Now!”

***

“So, we’re all blacked out from yesterday. We have the worst hangover of our lives. And Bighead and Jin are missing…” Jungkook repeats as he paces back and forth the living room.

Hoseok enters the breakfast nook and sets down an extra-large pan of sunny side eggs and sausage. He steps back before the starved men wipe it clean.

“What’s gotten into you? You’re all so hungry today,” Hoseok scorns them as a smile grows on his lips. He’s thrilled that he finally gets to cook for them. Jin normally does all the cooking.

“You’re not going to eat?” Jimin asks him from behind a mouth full of food.

“I just don’t feel hungry,” Hoseok shrugs. He wipes his hands on his apron. “I brought us enough groceries to last through the week, so eat well.” Oddly, Hoseok has more energy than everyone in the room put together.

Taehyung speaks from the head of the table. “Guys, we’re not all blacked out—which is why I called everyone here..."

They look up at him from their plates, still eating like the food will be taken away if they stop.

"I remember everything.”

Jungkook interrupts. “Wait. Has anyone checked the date?!” He wiggles out of his chair and nearly trips running to the front porch, where the Sunday paper should be.

Having just eaten to the brim, Yoongi yawns and casually turns on the TV set, out of habit. The display does something completely new. Huh, TVs don't have color? Jimin and Hoseok are most mesmerized by this, moving to sit at the foot of the screen as a Coca-Cola commercial plays:

It's more than taste,

Bigger than a name,

As big as your best times,

As good as your best friends,

As real as the way you feel…

Jungkook runs back with the newspaper all spread out into disarray like his long dark hair. “Um…guys?”

There’s a long pause in the room.

“We’re not in the fifties anymore…”

What—

Their wide eyes look from him to the television and back. There’s only one thing that could mean coming from Jungkook…and it’s not good.

“We, uh, must’ve jumped twenty-seven years into the future,” he scratches the back of his round head. “It’s...1985.”

Taehyung clears his throat. “You guys will need to sit down for this. I can explain.”

***

They gather in the living room. Namjoon and Yoongi take up the couch, Jungkook sits on the floor between them, and Hoseok and Jimin share the love seat.

Taehyung’s knack for taking pictures and love for journalism make him a natural storyteller. His fine hands sway in the air as he talks. “You all have varying degrees of memory loss. For some very strange reason, I can remember everything that’s happened to us in the last 48 hours.”

Tae recounts their field trip and the events leading up to the portal inside the Manjjanggul Lava tube. How Jin wanted to hide the portal from the lab, Heaven Inc., but Jungkook wanted to destroy it. How Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, and Yoongi stormed the cave clearing as Jungkook was opening the portal gate. How Namjoon and Jin fought each other as the cave collapsed. And most importantly, how they were all unexpectedly pulled into the warp after Jungkook. All, except Jin and their beloved Bighead.

Their memories start coming back to them, piece by piece. Oddly, it’s as though only Taehyung could trigger their recollections.

“I don’t understand.” Namjoon finds his glasses and puts them on. Suddenly, he looks more like a professor than a biker. Big-tiddied mathematician. “Why is Taehyung the only one who remembers what happened?”

Taehyung thinks for a moment before an unusual blush forms at his cheeks. “Probably ‘cause I appreciate art. So, I remembered.”

“Uhm, ok. And why doesn’t Hoseok have hangover symptoms like the rest of us?” Yoongi crosses his arms, which seemingly grew thicker in the micro-span of the jump.

Hoseok vibrates from his place next to Jimin. His bright smile radiating through the room. “Ooh, I know I know. ‘Cause I’m your hope! Everyone was totally beat, but I could give you my energy. Like sunshine to a dying plant or light at the end of a dark tunnel or a—”

“—mOtH tO a FlAmE,” the rest mock. Apparently, no one forgot Hoseok’s notorious house party pick-up lines. They all laugh.

Could this be? Do some of the jocks have certain abilities now? What about the bikers?

“We have another problem: where is Sweetcheeks, and Seokjin?” Taehyung seems frustrated.

“And another problem: why did we all get warped with Jungkook in the first place?” Jimin pouts. “What about our families, and my—”

“—Cat! Your cat! Cats have nine lives. For three they play, for three they stray and for the last three, they stay. Why...did I just say that? It feels so familiar, so stran—” Yoongi stops talking out loud, resorting to mumbling to himself instead. He quickly grabs the paper from Jungkook and begins searching it for something.

The others continue to talk over each other, flooded with their worries and bits of things they’re starting to remember. The upcoming homecoming game, the unattended house parties, mourning parents, exams, etc.

“Quiet!” Namjoon’s clear and booming voice silences the room.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook fiddles with his tattooed fingers. “I-I don’t know why I dragged you all here with me. That’s what I have to figure out. I will figure it out. I promise. I’m worried too. If Bighead and Jin didn’t get warped here with us, maybe they, they ended up in a different d—” they sit in silence, thinking the worst.

“No no, that can’t be,” Namjoon reassures. “Given everyone’s memory lapse and their expert recklessness, they may have just wandered off.”

“We have to go back,” Jungkook says. “We have to go back to 1958.”

“How? We’re stuck here,” Yoongi deadpans, his nose still in the paper.

“Actually,” Jimin recalls, “on my way over here I stopped by the coffee shop…and um…well my boss didn’t recognize me at all. He didn’t even know my name.” Jimin’s worries grow. It’s unlike Jimin to walk down the street without a single greeting. He is—was—very popular.

“It's starting to make sense...” Jungkook says under his breath.

“What does, Jungkook.” Namjoon’s jaw does the thing.

“People don’t recognize us in this place because,” he pauses, “because we’re not from here. I don’t mean this town, I mean, this dimension.”

Namjoon presses a finger to his lips, thinking.

“We should pick new names and find temporary jobs. To blend in. We can't go back to school, we don't have identification. We need the money anyway,” Yoongi advises, “to support ourselves while Jungkook figures out a way back.” Yoongi seems to have become incredibly wiser after the jump. He peels the paper apart, pen in hand, circling jobs from the employment section. He looks up from the paper again. “How did I know to say that?”

“Whoa, are you like, a genius now?” Jimin sasses, as much to tease him as to distract from the impending doom that is being stuck in the future.

“No.” Yoongi scoffs, withholding a severe blush. “It’s like I’ve read all the books at the library, and lived nine lives since we left 1958. I just, know things.”

Namjoon nods in agreement. “It’s the best plan we’ve got. If twenty-seven years have passed since our “disappearance”, then our sudden re-emergence could bring unwanted attention, or worse…”

“Could someone still be looking for us after all years?” Jimin asks Tae. Hoseok instantly understands and wraps him in a comforting embrace.

“We need to sort this out as quietly as possible. Let’s keep low profiles until we figure out a way to get back to 1958. I don’t want us to get tangled in loose ends.” Namjoon sighs somberly. Being the leader of the biker gang has made him a suitable leader for whatever mish-mosh-of-a-gang this is now. “We’re in a different dimension and we don’t entirely know what that means. It could be dangerous, but as long as we stick together we will be okay. My priority is to keep us all safe.”

At this declaration, all eyes sparkle. Especially, Jungkook’s.

“I got us here, Joon. You can trust me to find us a way home,” Jungkook gets up from the floor, making for the door.

“Stop!” Jimin interrupts. “We can’t go out dressed like this.”

They look down at their clothes. They are still in their 50s outfits.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Yoongi puts down the paper and pouts.

Hoseok pounces off the sofa, “YES! New clothes…get up get up! We’re off to the mall!” He tosses his apron aside and leads them out the front door. Namjoon and Yoongi groan, dragging their feet toward the back of the group.

Jungkook smiles ear to ear. Maybe the world is not quite right, but everything he truly wants is right here with him.

#retrobangboy #bts fic #bts #bts art #bts fanart #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook bts #retro jungkook #80s #biker!jungkook

116 notes · View notes

hazel-writes · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female OC

Summary: Aristeia, an ambitious and self-reliant journalist on Tatooine, crosses paths with a Mandalorian after a harrowing encounter with Imperial remnants.

Word Count: 5,000

Warnings: canon-typical violence, death

A/N: Oh my gosh, I finally did it. After months of reading some absolutely incredible Mando fanfics, I took the plunge and started writing my own. I'm so excited to share this with all of you!

This fic starts during episode 1x5 and will loosely follow the show's timeline (I will be taking many creative liberties). The first chapter is from Aristeia's point of view, but I'll be going back and forth between her POV and Din's afterwards. I jump straight into the action in this fic, so if things seem a little crazy at first, don't worry, all will be explained soon :)

This is my first time writing for our favorite space cowboy, so any and all feedback is welcomed! If you want to keep updated on this fic between updates, check my bio for other places you can find me. Also, a Spotify playlist to accompany this fic is coming soon!

Without further ado, please enjoy this chaotic mess of a chapter! ♥︎

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Aristeia sighed as she weaved her way through the busy streets of Mos Eisley, Tatooine. It was almost sunset and most people were heading home after long days at work. A layer of dust rose around the feet of those attending to last-minute errands. She watched as a woman bought a large red fruit from one of the street-side vendors. A soot-covered teenaged boy stood by the neighboring building, stocking up on mechanical supplies. Near his feet, two sunburnt children fought over a small toy. The scene was normal to her: ever since settling on Tatooine years ago, Aristeia had slowly grown accustomed to the slow and gritty flow of the planet.

As she continued walking, she kept her head down, eyes always focused a few steps ahead of her feet. However, whenever someone neared, she would look up briefly to offer them a small smile. Most of the time they ignored her, scowled, or rolled their eyes, but every now and then, someone would return her gesture. Those moments made the effort worth it.

Unlike the people who meandered around her, Aristeia was just starting her work for the day. She kicked up clouds of dirt as she made her way to the recently-abandoned mechanic’s shop. She used to frequent it back when she had a speeder, but after the owners passed away, it had unfortunately turned into a popular site of criminal activity. A few days back, she had intercepted a transmission that mentioned a meeting at the location, and as a journalist, she had to be there to see what was going on. Armed with a small notebook and stylus, she was prepared to document the whole thing.

Turning the corner of a dusty alley, which was littered with miscellaneous tools and sheets of scrap metal, the old mechanic’s place finally came into view. Its exterior architecture was similar to that of the rest of Tatooine, however its dark and doorless entrance led to an underground network of small rooms. With every step Aristeia took towards the building, her anxiety grew. Unlike her other investigative stakeouts, she was going into the mechanic’s blind. The transmission didn’t reveal a whole lot about the nature of the meeting, which she knew meant it was of special importance. These were the kind of meetings that could provide her with a groundbreaking story. They were also the kind of meetings where someone could get hurt.

Aristeia had never been good at fighting – physically, at least – but she did give herself credit for not having died so far, especially in her line of work. Put a blaster in her hand and she’d probably shoot her own foot off. However, put a pen in her hand, and she was a force to be reckoned with.

Aristeia had been writing ever since she was young. It started with little stories: she would go into a crowd of people, find a quiet place to sit, and observe each person that passed by. She would notice what they were wearing, how they carried themselves, who they were with, where they were going, and then she would make up the ‘why’: Why were they dressed like that? Why did they walk like that? Why were they with this person or that person? Her imagination would stitch together the missing pieces of their backstories, creating life narratives of people she had never even met. She did the same thing now from time to time. In fact, people watching was imperative to her role as a journalist.

As Aristeia grew older, she and a few friends decided to start a local newsletter that got sent out to residents of Mos Eisley every month. It was by no means a ‘professional’ establishment. The writers were all residents, many of them barely adults, who wanted to keep their friends and family informed about any activity that could threaten the freedom they had fought so hard to gain after the fall of the Empire.

A group of giggling children ran around the corner, pulling Aristeia out of her thoughts. She watched as they kicked around a near-deflated ball with bare, dust-covered feet. Sighing, she turned back around to peer down the steps of the abandoned mechanic’s. It was just beginning to get dark and the suns had nearly reached the edge of the horizon, casting eerie shadows on the stairwell walls. She looked for any sign of movement in the space below and when nothing seemed to be stirring, she made her way down the packed-dirt stairs and entered into the main room.

The area was small with not very many places to hide, immediately making her anxious. She had never been a fan of tiny spaces. But this was too important of a mission for her to give up now. She looked to her left and spotted a large plant, which obviously hadn’t seen any light or water for quite some time. However, its pot and leaves could be big enough to hide her if she was able to fit behind it. It’s not like she had very many options to choose from.

A noise from above forced her into action. She darted behind the plant as fast as she could, curling herself up against the corner of the wall. The sounds of heavy footfalls met her ears. There were at least five people making their way into the room she was in. From between the leaves of the plant, she could make out the forms of two stormtroopers and a tall, lanky man in a gray uniform. Imperials.

After the fall of the Empire, most people on Tatooine had celebrated immensely. They believed they had finally achieved freedom. It was hard for Aristeia to share their excitement, knowing how many lives had been lost on both sides. She also had always been a realist, never letting herself get too comfortable when everything seemed to be coming up roses. She had been tracking the movements of rogue troopers around the city for a while, trying to figure out who they took orders from and where they were located. In recent weeks, she had intercepted a few transmissions referencing what the Imps called ‘the asset’. Just one day before, she had caught word of a meeting scheduled to take place in the room where she was now hiding. She knew she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get more intel. Once she had enough information, she planned on writing a massive expose, informing all of Mos Eisley to her discoveries.

A raspy voice broke her train of thought: “Have you found the asset?” Peering around the plant’s leaves, she saw that it was the man in gray who had spoken.

“No, not yet,” a Klatoonian replied gruffly. “We tracked the ship to this city. As far as we know, the Mandalorian still has it.”

A Mandalorian… Aristeia shuddered. There wasn’t much in the galaxy that she was terrified of anymore. Sure, she often felt scared. In fact, she was scared most of the time; it’s part of what kept her alive for so long. But there was very little that truly terrified her. Mandalorians were one of those things.

She shook her head, forcing herself out of her spiraling panic. Focus on the facts, she thought – it was a phrase she repeated often when overwhelmed with her work. Focus on the Facts. The Imperial man’s mention of the Mandalorian was new info to her. All she knew from previous transmissions was that the Imps needed the asset for some sort of experiment. She didn’t understand it too much – she was never very good at science.

Aristeia reached into her bag, pulling out her notebook and stylus so she could document her new discovery. As quietly as she could, she opened the front cover of the journal, flipping to the next blank page.

As she did so, her finger caught on one of the pages, slicing a thin cut across the pad of her pointer finger. Kriff, she whispered, accidentally dropping her stylus as she moved to nurse her injured finger. She realized her fatal mistake too late.

“What do we have here?” she heard a voice drawl from above her. The Klatooinian, who had taken a few steps toward Aristeia, peered around the edge of the plant before looking back at the Rodian. “Is this one yours?”

Aristeia scowled at the suggestion. “No, I most certainly am not.”

The two men chuckled, infuriating her even more. “Why don’t you come out so we can take a better look at you?” the Rodian suggested with a devilish smirk.

“Yeah, cause that sounds like it would end well for me…” she mumbled, trying to think of a way to escape the predicament she had gotten herself into.

The uniformed man and his two stormtroopers stayed quiet throughout the ordeal, seemingly bored by the other mens’ interaction.

“She must be terminated. She has heard too much,” the man in gray finally chimed in.

At this, Aristeia started to panic. She was in deep bantha munk this time. Sure, she had been in tricky positions before – it was kind of a requirement of living on Tatooine – but this was bad.

“I didn’t hear anything, I swear! I was just…” She stood up slowly and looked around the room, trying to find an alibi. “...admiring the plants?”

She mentally facepalmed at her attempt of a lie, something she was never very good at. It helped her in a journalistic sense, as she always did her best to remain objective in her articles. She recognised the power that came with telling the truth, especially now, in the wake of an empire founded largely on lies. However, in this case, she could’ve used a good fib. Admiring the plants, really? she scolded herself. After a moment of silence, the uniformed man directed a curt nod at the stormtroopers, who then advanced on her quickly.

Springing into action, she attempted to kick the chestplate of the trooper closest to her, but missed, only managing to clip his knee. Nonetheless, it threw him off-balance, sending him stumbling into his fellow trooper. She took the brief opening to run as fast as she could towards the stairs that led back up to the main street. She got halfway up, mere feet away from freedom, before a large hand yanked her back down the steps harshly. She fell backwards, scraping her elbows and knees on the hard dirt before hitting her head on the floor, hard.

She couldn’t see anything but blurry spots of white and orange as strong and grimy hands pulled her across the floor, back to the troopers. The one she kicked earlier returned the favor, sending sparks of pain through her abdomen. Footsteps approached and a heavy boot landed between her shoulder blades, forcing her against the floor. Another second passed before she heard the charging up of a blaster from above her head.

Aristeia closed her eyes, cheek pressed to the dirt, accepting her fate. She forced warm memories into her mind, not wanting her last thoughts to be of the man whose heavy boot currently pinned her to the ground. Her mind danced from memory to memory, finding it hard to focus on any one image for too long: a familiar, tender hand ran its fingers along the curves of her face; trees towered over her like arrows aimed for the stars; a single candle cast a warm glow over pieces of parchment; a sweet smile, one she probably would never see again, beamed through the darkness...

A burst of blaster fire sounded from above her head. As if shooting her once wasn’t enough, she thought, before realizing that it wasn’t possible for her to make sarcastic quips if she was dead. She opened one eye, then the other, only to stare right into the lifeless face of the man in the gray uniform. It was a sight she was sure would stay with her forever.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

She finally looked up, not recognising the deep modulated voice that sounded from above her.

A shining wall of silver met her eyes, his blaster pointed at the Klatoonian. A Mandalorian, she thought. Waves of terror flooded Aristeia’s body. It was almost as if the universe had plucked him straight out of one of her nightmares and dumped him deliberately at her feet. She was familiar with the Mandalorians, more than most, but seeing one after so many years still managed to send shivers down her spine.

Focus on the facts. Focus on the facts. she repeated to herself.

Something about the way the armored man carried himself made her realize that this wasn’t just any Mandalorian: this was the Mandalorian, the one her attackers had been discussing moments earlier.

His presence seemed to fill the whole room. She found her eyes involuntarily moving up his figure, taking in the pure power that emanated from his armored form. Her gaze landed on his face, or where his face should’ve been. Instead, all she could see was her own terrified reflection in his dark, deadly visor.

When the Klatoonian didn’t make any effort to move, the shiny man looked down and gave her a barely perceptible nod to the side. She knew exactly what he was telling her to do.

As fast as she could, she rolled to her right, hearing blaster shots fire above her as she did so. She scrambled back towards the plant she was hiding behind earlier and watched as the armored man fought the others. While the Mandalorian was distracted with the Rodian, the Klatoonian aimed his blaster towards his silver chestplate. Aristeia considered shouting to the metal-clad man in warning, but didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself. To her horror, she watched as the Klatoonian pulled the trigger.

The Mandalorian, however, sensed what was coming and ducked. The blaster beam rebounded off of a large metal sheet that stood propped up against the wall behind him and hit the Klatoonian square in the chest. He fell to the floor, lifeless. To Aristeia’s surprise, she heard the Mandalorian curse, seemingly frustrated by the death of his attacker. The stormtroopers took his moment of annoyed distraction as a sign to run, bolting back up the stairs before the Mandalorian could stop them.

Aristeia’s senses slowly started to come back to her, as did the pain in her stomach, hands and knees. Unsure of the Mandalorian’s intentions, she scrambled on the packed dirt, trying to find the notebook she had brought with her. She finally found it tucked between the wall and the nearby plant pot.

She turned to see the armored man, having knocked the Rodian unconscious, finally focus his attention on her. She grabbed the stylus that she always kept clipped to the side of her notebook, the one that had caused all this trouble to begin with, and held it out in front of her as threateningly as possible.

The Mandalorian casually put a hand on his hip and popped one of his legs out slightly. His helmet tilted to the side incredulously. If she wasn’t so scared, she might have laughed at his almost-lazy posture.

“Hey, they say the pen is mightier than the sword, right?” Aristeia shrugged nervously, still directing the stylus towards the silver mass in front of her.

He ignored her comment and dipped his helmet towards the bodies on the floor. “What were you doing with them?”

She debated whether or not to tell him. His low, warning tone made it seem like she didn’t have much of a choice. So far, he hadn’t made any move to hurt her, despite the fact that he had every opportunity to. Even now he kept his distance, almost like he was trying not to startle her any further. That, or the stylus really had scared him.

“I’m a journalist,” Aristeia responded. “I was trying to get some information for my next story when they found me.”

She shifted on her feet when he didn’t respond right away.

“Story?” he finally repeated, almost like he was skeptical of the word.

“Yeah.”

She knew it must sound silly. Her stories, and journalism as a whole, probably weren’t on this man’s radar. A lot of people thought that her profession was impractical and meddling, but obviously the work she did was important enough to gain the attention of the Imps.

Whatever the Mandalorian was thinking prompted him to mumble something, turn on his heel, and start back up the stairs. Aristeia was left speechless, her hair settling back into place after being disheveled by the sudden billowing of the Mandalorian’s cape.

She looked around the room at the bodies littering the floor, remembering briefly that the troopers had escaped. That alone almost ensured her certain death. They had seen her face – it was only a matter of time before they would find her. Already regretting her decision, she heard herself calling out to the Mandalorian who had reached the top of the stairs: “Wait!”

He stopped his movement, pausing briefly before slowly turning to face Aristeia, who now stood at the bottom of the stairs. She looked up at his figure, which from her angle looked more commanding than ever, his silver armor backlit by the setting suns.

Finally finding her words, she spoke. “Please, I… I need to get off this planet. You have a ship, right? The troopers who ran, they’ll tell the others, they’ll come after me.”

She hated how desperate she sounded, but she didn’t know what else to do. Her friends barely had enough money for speeders. Most of them had never even been off the planet. All she knew was that she needed to leave, and soon.

“Why would they waste your time on you?” the Mandalorian asked, probably unsure how a girl armed with a stylus could possibly pose a threat to the Imps.

She ignored his underestimating tone before replying. “Because I overheard what they were talking about. Once they find out who I am, they’ll kill me.”

“And who exactly are you?”

Kriff, she thought. If the Mandalorian found out just how invested she was in her recent investigations, he could use that against her. “Well… I’m Aristeia.”

The Mandalorian voiced a frustrated sigh. “And?”

“And…”

She was about to answer when she spotted a blinking red light out of the corner of her eye. Upon further inspection, she found its source: a tracking fob held in the Mandalorian’s left hand. Of course, she thought. He’s a bounty hunter. The Klatoonian must have been his bounty – that’s why he was upset when he was accidentally killed in the crossfire.

Aristeia felt her heart rate spike as she devised the best way to backtrack on her previous request for help.

She slowly made her way towards the Mandalorian, subtly attempting to get back up to street level. “...and I really should be getting back to work, so if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just head back up those stairs now.”

The Mandalorian, unfortunately, noticed the unusual change in her disposition.

“What’s the sudden rush?” he asked as the arm carrying the fob shot out to stop her escape.

“No, no, it’s nothing! I really should go. My… husband is waiting for me,” Aristeia lied. The Mandalorian just stared, his arm remaining in place. “He gets upset when I’m late.” She offered with a fake smile, trying desperately to alleviate the tension. When he still didn’t move, she continued. “He’s very big. And uhh… He’s a sheriff!” she added, for good measure. The Mandalorian cocked his head slightly to the left in response, as if seeing how far she would take her lie. “And he has lots and lots of weapons. A whole armory with guns and knives and other… spiky things.”

“Spiky things?” he asked, almost amused.

“Well, yeah.” she replied, but it came out as more of a question.

“Well, you know what I think?” he said, taking a few sauntering steps forward. His posture oozed confidence – one hand was hooked on his belt, just in front of his blaster, while the other hung casually at his side.

Aristeia took a small step backwards. “W-what?”

“I think you have a bounty on your head.”

Kriff, she thought. He’s good.

Aristeia took another step back, but the Mandalorian closed the distance quickly. She held up her hands placatedly.

“Look, I don’t… know if there’s a price on my head. I’ve always just assumed . Over the past few years, my friends, the other journalists here, they’ve been going missing. It was pretty obvious that the Imps didn’t want us sharing their activities with the whole planet. Recently, things had been pretty quiet, at least until they started freaking out about this whole ‘asset’ thing.”

The Mandalorian’s posture straightened and his towering body leaned towards hers menacingly. When he spoke, his voice lacked all the nonchalance it had earlier and instead radiated a seriousness that chilled her to the core. “What do you know about the ki- the asset?”

Aristeia, regarding his sudden change in demeanor, stuttered in response: “N-nothing really – Shouldn’t you know?”

“Nothing really?” he repeated, completely ignoring her question.

“Just what I’ve heard over the coms.” Shoot, she thought. Shouldn’t have said that.

“You have access to their coms?” he asked, a sliver of surprise peeking through his gruffness.

She did. It was one of her biggest accomplishments since arriving on Tatooine. One evening, she had been at her desk, listening to random transmissions on an old faulty comlink her mother gave her years ago. She would do this every night, never once picking up on the voice she was desperately waiting to hear. Instead, she usually caught onto feeds from people nearby: small business dealings, calls to family working out in the dunes, even the occasional secret teenage correspondence. Aristeia enjoyed listening to the small snippets of the others’ lives; it gave her hope in a world that she seemed more and more disconnected to with each new day.

But on this night, she had intercepted a transmission that was far more concerning than her typical listening content. Two voices, one that she now knew was the man in the gray suit and another who she assumed was a stormtrooper, crackled over the comlink. Within a few minutes, she not only knew that the Empire wasn’t dead, but that they were also situated right on her doorstep . After making this discovery, she made sure to keep her com set to that specific feed, which is how she ended up finding out about the meeting that led to her current encounter with the Mandalorian.

“Sometimes I have access,” she responded to the Mandalorian’s question with a nonchalant shrug. She basked in the power that this information seemed to give her over him. “It depends on how close they are, the wind levels, and if my tech is even working that day-”

“Where do you live?” he interrupted hurriedly.

Aristeia suppressed a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“Where do you live?” he repeated slowly, though this time it came out as a more of a modulated growl.

She laughed nervously. “No way, you seriously think I’d tell a bounty hunter where I lived? That’s like breaking every single rule of common sense. I mean, come on, think of this from my perspective.”

His posture relaxed minutely and he released another sigh, this one less frustrated than the previous. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it by now.”

She recognised the truth in his statement, but that didn’t mean she was willing to go out of her way to help him. For all she knew, he could take the coms and turn her in afterwards. Aristeia tried to get a better read of him, but unlike most people she met, she couldn’t. She didn’t have any guesses as to who he was, what his intentions were, or why the ‘asset’ was so important to him. In a universe of starry galaxies, he was a black hole.

“What do I get out of it?” she asked, trying her best to sound confident. She countered the slight relaxation of his own stance with the newfound boldness of her own. “Helping you, I mean.”

The Mandalorian scoffed beneath his helmet. “I saved your life, I think that’s qualifying enough.”

“You were just going after the Klatooinian.”

“And if I hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

“Wow, consider me comforted.”

He sighed, clearly agitated by her retorts. “If you show me the coms, then I won’t tell the Guild about the little notebook operation you’ve got going on down here,” he said, waving a gloved hand towards the bag that carried her journal.

“And now I’m being blackmailed. Fantastic.” she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Aristeia stilled, evaluating her options. She could either ignore the Mandalorian and risk having him reveal her, and her work, to the Guild, or help him and hope he returned the favor. Neither option was ideal.

“Fine ,” she relented. “Just give me a second.”

Aristeia took the Mandalorian’s lack of response as a signal to go ahead, and made her way back into the darkness of the room that now reeked of death. She tried to think back to the days when she would come to the mechanic’s to repair the many malfunctions her speeder frequently sustained. She always enjoyed the loud and hectic bustle of the establishment. Its owners were kind and would always let the neighborhood kids hang out and watch them work on one project or another, occasionally even letting them help out. Those times seemed distant as Aristeia approached the body of the fallen Imp.

“Hey, you wanna hurry it up down there?” a gruff voice sounded from above.

“Really?” Aristeia replied, astonished at the Mandalorian’s near-childlike impatience.

“I thought you had some husband with a large collection of spiky things who doesn’t like it when you’re late?”

Hearing him repeat her previous lie out loud made it seem even more ridiculous, but she ignored him and continued to move towards the gray-suited man.

“What are you doing?” he called from above, seemingly untrusting of her retreat back to the main room.

Oh my stars, she thought, surprised by her own annoyance at the Mandalorian. Her initial fear had evolved into irritation at his constant attempts at intimidation and control. She couldn’t let her guard down though – she could lose her leverage at any moment and then who knows what he’d do with her.

Aristeia reigned in the sarcastic comment she was about to make and instead answered his question with a restrained sigh. “Seeing if they have any information.”

“In case you didn’t notice, they’re dead. They can’t help you.”

Obviously, she thought with a roll of her eyes, but didn’t say so out loud.

“Yeah, but their pockets can.”

Aristeia stared at the man in gray. Even though the blaster bolt to his chest all but guaranteed his death, she still approached his body warily, as if it could come back to life at any moment. Avoiding his hollow gaze, she dug through his pockets, searching for any more information that could prove useful to her future articles. All she found was a handwritten note containing some sort of coded language she didn’t recognise. She folded it carefully and put it in her own pocket for safekeeping before heading back towards the Mandalorian.

By the time she joined him at street level, the suns had already set. He took a few steps forward but paused when he felt her hesitate behind him. She felt weird leaving behind the mangled bodies of the men in the darkness below.

“We should move the bodies,” she said cautiously, her eyebrows furrowed in confliction.

“No time,” the Mandalorian replied simply, turning back towards the street.

“Please,” she pleaded, looking to her left where a group of children played in the distance. “I- I don’t want any kids finding that.”

He silently followed her gaze and stood completely still for a moment, as if debating his own response. Aristeia tried, and once again failed, to get a good read of what was going through his head.

“Fine,” he finally said. “I’ll get them in the morning.”

She would’ve liked them taken care of sooner, but it seemed that there was no room for negotiation. To be honest, she was surprised he agreed to her request at all. Something was different about this Mandalorian, and she couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

“Which way?” he asked, referencing her house. The one she stupidly agreed to take him to, Aristeia thought.

“Uh…” She paused briefly, but it was a moment too long for the Mandalorian’s liking. “This way,” she finished, pointing down an alley to her left. She hiked the bag she carried higher up on her shoulder and took a few steps forward before feeling a hard tug on her arm.

“Hey, I wouldn’t recommend trying anything. It wouldn’t end well for you,” the Mandalorian said threateningly. His visor stared down at her coldly and she suddenly grew extremely frustrated by the fact that she couldn’t see his eyes. She felt vulnerable under his gaze and didn’t like it one bit.

“Let go of my arm,” Aristeia replied, her voice low and serious. His grip remained strong. She stared daggers up at his helmet and it was the first time since meeting him that she was truly angry. “I said, let go.”

To her surprise, she felt his grip loosen and she promptly tugged her arm away from him. Her posture radiated confidence, but the fear in her eyes betrayed her. Without a word, she spun around and continued heading in the direction of her small house, not sparing another look behind her to see if the Mandalorian was following.

He was.

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Masterlist || Next (coming soon!)

#supernova fic #hazel writes #hazel's fanfic #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin #grogu #din djarin x female oc #star wars fanfic #star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #quotev

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voidlitmoon · 4 years

Text

One Trainer’s Trash is Another Pokemon's Family

So if you didn't know, i ended up taking a hiates from writing ANYTHING for a bit, but I was just sitting around earlier and thought "huh, there was that oneshot I kinda wanted to write" and BOOM im formating this at 2am when I finished writing so I can just post this in the morning.

Also note me writing this does not mean I'm fully back to writing because I tbh have no clue when I'll be back in full writing mode, a lot of stuff is going on irl around health issues (I'm good dont worry, just trying to figure out this issue so we can fix it) and my mind hasn't been able to put words together into written sentences well recently for anything, so exspect everything and nothing!!

So @sugarglider9603.... enjoy! If anyone seems off its probably because I haven't wrote in like 4 months :D

Ao3 link

Ao3 series link

Master Post

Words: 1,651

Summery: ' "I found a child in the trash!" Trash Eevee declared happily. The Eevee on watch somehow looked skeptical from behind, but curiosity got them to turn around.

Green and brown surprised eyes hit his own, he felt as the others eyes looked him over from his unnaturally purple eyes to dark brown fur.

"I.. I-" the other stammered in surprise.

"Can we keep him?" His founder vibrated, excited. '

A chance encounter is about to change three lives forever

“Slow down!” the Eevee hissed to his companion, running through the crowd of humans to catch up. His green and brown eyes swept the crowd, making sure no one grew suspicious and followed the two Eevees, sighing as he thankfully saw everyone's gaze sweep past them, uninterested.

There had been a few incidences when a trainer or a ‘nurse’ had tried to catch them, whether for his strange fur markings, trying to get his friend’s fur cleaned (no one held him for long once that information was leaked), or purely for them being Eevees. He’d heard it all, common lines being “hey are you lost?”, “where is your trainer?”, “is that a wild Eevee?” and of course, the most common

“I’ve got to catch it!”

Heh, no one had succeeded yet, and he didn’t plan that to change any time soon. Or ever.

“Not sorry” the simple line snapped him out of his thoughts as he looked over to the grinning Eevee that probably did need a bath “but I heard yelling in the back alley of the Good Place, and I just have to see if it's new!” The ‘Good Place’ was a restaurant the two constantly saw in their travels from town to town. While they couldn’t read the written name, and wouldn’t dare get close enough to a human to simply know the name when it had no use to them, it always had an identical symbol at every location. It was his trash loving companions (and though he would never admit it, his own as well) favorite location to get food.

“Very well, lead the way” with a flick of their tails, they rounded the last few corners to the back alley where two large dumpsters lay. As a Trubbish scurred off at the sight of them they both leapt up, balancing as they opened one off the lids.

He sat watch as the other squealed and dove in, rummaging through and ripping open plastic bags with sharp teeth. They always had the same parts when working together, he would keep watch making sure no one saw them from the regular path or had any workers walk out the door, while the other would search, eating what he wanted and tossing stuff up to save for later. They had tried to swap jobs once, but it was a mess that nearly got them caught if it wasn’t for his own keen ears, so they kept to their own and worked together.

He glanced at the door, the symbol imprinted on it. Doing this dumpster diving always reminded himself when he was alone. How he’s grateful to have a friend. Actually, doing it at the Good Place always reminded himself when he met the trashy Eevee. It was just after-

A paw swatted at his face, causing him to dodge. He seemed to be falling into nastolga easily today, he thought shaking it out of his fur.

“Did you hear me? I said all these bags have already been looked through” the other huffed “they must have used the other one, which is weird because they usually use the one closer to the door first….” he frowned, confused before brightening “anyways can you help me open the other lid?”

The clean Eevee nodded, hopping across to the other dumpster.

______________________________

Sta- he shivered, the angry yells still echoing in his ears. She was so mad when she discovered there was no dragon evolution, when she finally discovered he was completely useless. He glanced at the snapped pokeball at his paws, fallen through a space between a few garbage bags.

He knew he had to get out of here, but what was the point? He was with a trainer up till now, and while she was horrible he was still at least alive. But to try and survive on his own? No, he might as well just curl up on this garbage, might as well just

A scene flash in his mind, of a Pecha bush laying under a sprawling indigo sky. Two other faces similar yet different then his, laughing, smiling.

He couldn't give up, not yet, not until he could find them again.

Chatter and a crash of heavy plastic hitting a wall distracted him from the thoughts racing through his head. He pressed low against the bags, ears flat as he waited. Were there people taking trash out? No.. that didn't sound human, that sounded

The lid thunked twice, before late afternoon light poured down onto his dark brown fur. He froze as another pokemon fell down in front of him, another Eevee.

He was bigger, though everyone was bigger. His fur seemed to be a normal shade of brown, yet it was hard to tell with all the dirt and dust coating it. He looked up into the newcomer's eyes, surprise and delight filled them to the brim.

"Oh? OH!" The other gasped for only a moment before flashing forwards, grabbing him lightly by his scruff and before he knew it St- he was in open air and sat on the hard plastic lid.

"Hey hey!" The Eevee scrambled across to another Eevee, his turned back to the both of them. The third Eevee's ear twitched to show they were listening, watching the humans walk by.

"I found a child in the trash!" Trash Eevee declared happily. The Eevee on watch somehow looked skeptical from behind, but curiosity got them to turn around.

Green and brown surprised eyes hit his own, he felt as the others eyes looked him over from his unnaturally purple eyes to dark brown fur.

"I.. I-" the other stammered in surprise.

"Can we keep him?" His founder vibrated, excited.

"Hmm" seemingly gaining his composure, the one on watch came over to inspect him further, sniffing curiously at his fur "I don't think so, he smells too much of humans" the trash Eevee visibly shrunk.

"No!" He cried, snapping his jaw closed at the sudden speaking "I, I me- mean no, I had a trainer, but I don't have one anymore" he attempted to explain, hissing at himself for stuttering.

"I uh" he coughed, attempting to clear his throat, "I, I'm sorry for disturbing your search" he flicked his tail toward the two before curling it around himself, finally looking into the others faces. It was at the moment he noticed the strange markings around the single green eye on the watcher.

"It's no problem," the calmer one replied. He looked as if he were about to continue, before the trash Eevee popped "hey, have you gotten food today?"

He blinked, thinking about all that happened since dawn. Dawn, when his trai- ex-trainer had learned the news.

"I.. haven't?" He tried, not wanting to test his luck. They were strangers, he had to be cautious.

"Here!" The other dove back into the trash. He leaned over frantically, thankful to see the pokeball halfs had sunken out of sight. If they ever asked why he was in there, he would just tell them he was looking for food.

No one would find out the true reason. Well.. maybe two others, but that would have to wait till he found them again. He would find them again.

The walking trash pile hopped back up, dropping what seemed to be a freshly thrown away berry skewer at his feet.

He looked up, alarmed "no, I couldn't-" "oh don't worry" the other's purr sounded like a motorcycle "we'll survive without a few berries."

While he was still uncertain, his stomach grumbled with hunger so he bent down and took a bite of closest fully intact berry. When the sweet familiar taste hit his mouth, he barely stopped the tears. Arceus really had to do that, didn't they.

"Everything ok?" He looked up from the Pecha berry, the special marked Eevee looking at his watery eyes with concern.

"Y-yes, just haven't eaten anything this sweet in a while" he lied quickly, finishing what he could before pushing towards the others "here, might as well not let this go to waste" he smiled.

The marked Eevee hummed before taking a bite from a nearby Oran berry.

After a bit, the dirty Eevee spoke a question he knew was coming "so, you said you had a trainer, do you have a name?"

He paused, thinking, before shaking his head "she never gave me one."

The others nodded in understanding. He looked out at the people walking in the street, passing by with no clue of the trio sitting on the dumpsters.

He didn’t have a name, not to them at least. To them, he would be the Eevee that they found, the Eevee they took in, the Eevee one day they would realize they see as a brother, the Eevee that would inevitably disappear in the back of a truck

One day there would be another family, they would know him as Virgil, Virgil who they found in the forest, Virgil who followed them everywhere, Virgil who got caught finally by his own free will

But no one would know him as Star but his original family. No one would know him as Star, the being who hatched into the world with an angry scream that was not his own, Star, the one who fell in love with the sky on his first night of his existence, Star, the one who found family and then was ripped away from it in his sleep

Star, who would keep searching till the ends of the Earth to find his family.

But for now, he was just a strange looking Eevee in a strange situation, hiding his name from everything and everyone, and that was ok.

He glared at the crowd of humans walking by peacefully. There was only one thing left from his life with.. with the Dragon, one thing he would keep

He would never trust another human again.

#the moon has spoken #the moon has writen #WOAH THATS A TAG THAT EXISTS #sorry it honestly feels like its been forever since i wrote #do not post to another site #i will post it where i want it posted on the account i want it posted on #alright long list o tags? NO CLUE K LETS GO (someone let me do this tagging at 2am who did it)#teaming the pieces together #sander sides #sanders sides #pokemon #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #DO NOT ADDITIONAL TAG FOR ANY OF THESE THREE LIKE 'TWs' OR DUKEDONTLOOK PLEASE #it makes me really sad especially since they're super sympathetic in this AU #i feel like i wrote their encounter in a bad way hekkkk but i also dont wanna rewrite it #theyre Eevees not humans go awayyy #food tw #eating tw #garbage #trash #please tell me if i missed any tags #also please tell me if i went to exstreme in any area (includeing my ramble in the tags)#im a growing writer and also really tired right now ao i might have ssid something too extreme and if i did #im honestly very very sorry

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burningember0802 · 3 years

Text

Someone Like Me

summary : first, once again, i suck at summaries. Kaz meets a friend of Nina’s that he didn’t know about who is more like him than anyone else he’s ever met and that scares him more than he’d like.

It's a relaxing evening at the slat, or at least as much as it can be in Ketterdam. All the crows were sitting around a table talking and having a great night, even Kaz. He won't show it but he enjoys nights like this more than he'd like to admit. Nina and Jesper were laughing and talking about who knows what while Matthais sat with a loving smile on his face, Wylan and Inej sat talking about his newest tests, and Kaz sat just listening and watching, enjoying the time with his friends; his family. "Oh, Kaz! My friend is supposed to stop by tonight and drop off some things I asked her for so don't be surprised if we get a knock soon." Nina mentions. "You have friends?" He sarcastically said. "For a matter of fact, I do. She's amazing, I think you should meet her. She'd be a great addition to the crows. She's a fabrickator, both a Durast and an Alkemi. She is also the smartest person I've ever met, and the best fighter too. I've watched her and Matthais spar and she took him down in seconds easily. She's insanely good, Kaz. She'd be a great asset to the team. I think you'd like her too, she has similar interests among other stuff." She explains. Kaz thought for a moment before responding. "We'll see if I agree with you once I meet her." Nina thanks him with a smile and goes back to her conversation.

Kaz wasn't sure how he felt about the thought of bringing someone else onto the team. It was another person who could betray him, another person he could get attached to, another weakness. Not just anyone can join the crows, they had to earn it.

About half an hour later there was a knock at the slat door. Nina excitedly hopped up to get it. "It's her!" The heartrender almost squealed. The door opened to a girl, probably about 5'6 who has (H/L), (H/C) hair. She was gorgeous with a button nose that supported her thin-rimmed glasses, full lips, striking (E/C) eyes, and a curvy figure. She was wearing a tight green turtle neck, black pants, boots, and carrying a satchel on her shoulder. Kaz swears he almost felt himself stop breathing. The feeling he got when he saw her, despite not knowing her, scared him in a way he didn't like. He decided to push it down and continue on with the night.

Nina invited the girl inside with a smile that was returned by her. The girls walked back to the table where the rest of the group sat. "Y/N, the crows, the crows, Y/N." She introduced them all. Multiple greetings were heard around the table from everyone except Kaz of course. Y/N shyly waved with a soft smile. "I brought those things you asked about," Y/N said quickly changing the subject. She opened her bag and pulled out 3 boxes and set them on the table. She opened the first one which held a seemingly normal knife. "Here's the knife you asked about with the poison injection abilities. There are three vials in the box and there's one in the handle already. It injects a few drops upon impact, it’s potent so it will kill someone with just a few drops." Y/N said showing how to open the handle and where the vial was. She proceeded to open the next box that was full of bullets. "These are the bullets that explode upon impact you asked about." She said before setting them back down. You could see Inej eyeing up the knife and Jesper doing the same to the bullets. She finally opened the last box which revealed 7 sets of earpieces. "These are the earpieces, they have microphones in them to communicate from long distances." She almost mumbled, obviously nervous around all the people. Kaz had been watching the girl in shock the whole time she spoke. Nina didn't lie, she was insanely talented and would be a good asset.

"You're the best Y/N!" Nina exclaimed, making a quick movement to go to hug the girl. She quickly stopped when Y/N flinched slightly. No one else besides Y/N, Nina, and Kaz had realized it with everyone else too busy looking at the new gear. "Shit, fuck I'm sorry Y/N it was a mistake." Nina started apologizing profusely. "Nina, it's fine. Mistakes happen. I'm just a freak anyway." She said quietly. Kaz felt his heart clench at that. She was like him, she was anything but a freak though. "Anyway, I should probably get going." She said, staring at her feet. "You should stay for a while, meet everyone." Nina tried to convince her. Y/N was obviously apprehensive. "You should stay," Kaz said before he could stop himself. Both Nina and Y/N turned towards him quickly. Nina had a shocked look on her face, surprised that Dirtyhands would ever suggest that he wanted someone to stay. She thought for a second and smiled slightly and nodded.

The girl sat down at the last empty chair at the table, which happened to be next to Kaz. She immediately pulled into herself out of habit, bringing on her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around it, making herself as small as possible. Jesper and Inej immediately started asking questions about their new tools to which Y/N answered gladly. Kaz watched them contently, especially Y/N. She looked really happy talking about what she loved. Soon the conversations turned away from solely her after the crows had their fill of integrating. "Kaz, Y/N is the most knowledgeable person I've met about books, you guys have that in common," Nina mentions. Y/N glances at him with a soft smile. Everything about her made Kaz's fight or flight kick in. She was weirdly comforting but at the same time kicked on every instinct he had. He felt the need to run but also never move again. "What's your favorite genre of books?" Y/N asked the boy. Kaz missed having someone to talk to about interests like this, the rest of the crows weren't into things like this. Trying to make him comfortable she answers first. "I tend to read realistic fiction or fantasy." Kaz studied her face constantly looking for any signs that she wasn't genuine. "I like fantasy or mystery books." He answers. She gets a huge smile. He liked that, she had a genuine smile, that's rare in the barrel. Her smile was slightly lopsided and full of joy. "Mysteries are the best, I'm always on the edge of my seat. Sometimes I feel like I can't put the book down even when I have stuff to get done." She laughs. Kaz almost felt himself smirk. "Those are the best ones." He answers genuinely. "I just finished this amazing book, it's about the story of Achilles but from the point of view of Patroclus. It's called the song of Achilles and it's amazing." She says with a smile. "I'll have to borrow it sometime." He says. At that moment the two of them weren't even paying attention to the crows around them anymore, so they didn't see the knowing look from Nina.

The group all continued to talk and have a good time. Everyone liked Y/N a lot. Nina was accurate in her description of her. She was super smart and sweet. At one point they were talking about combat strategies and she was asked "What's the quickest way to win a fight?" by Jesper. Matthias let out a loud snort at that question, knowing the brunette's skills. "Are we talking immobilizing or killing? Those are two different answers." She says with a smirk. The girl had come out of her shell within the past hour and had grown more comfortable around the group. "Both?" Jesper said, confused. "For immobilization, the quickest way is to slice their Achilles tendon on the back of their ankle, if you do that they're not moving. Also, you always go for the eyes, nose, and groin, and if you use the bottom of the palm of your hand you can shatter someone's nose since that's the strongest part of your hand. Besides the Achilles tendon, the other easiest way if you know how to do it is there's a nerve on the side of your neck that if you squeeze right, knocks them out. Then if the purpose is killing you go for the neck, wrist, or thigh because that's where your main arteries are." She said matter of factly. Kaz almost laughed at how the girl said it.

That was the start of it all. Shortly after this first meeting Y/N started coming around more and more and everyone loved her, including Kaz. Kaz had started having more than friendly feelings towards her a couple months after meeting. The crows were eventually able to convince her to join so she was now living at the slat, making Kaz’s life a living hell. He felt like his heart was beating out of his chest constantly, and he knew that Nina knew this too with her heartrender skills. Nina was constantly giving him knowing looks and all he did was glare back at her. Kaz was drawn to her like no one else.

The two of them had become close over the last year, closer than most. They would often sit and talk for hours, a lot of times about books or anything else that came to their minds. Y/N was often like lightning in a bottle, constantly moving and going a million miles an hour. She seemed hyper and impulsive on the outside but Kaz knew she was very strategic and methodical. She was insanely smart, which she often used to her advantage to beat Kaz in chess to his dismay. Both parties had developed feelings for each other but both were too scared to tell the other because they’re idiots but the universe was going to find a way to get them together.

The heist the crows had tonight was insanely important. The group was supposed to go to a merchant party because while the merchant and everyone else was distracted they were going to steal a necklace that was held in the wife’s vanity room. The necklace was worth an insane amount of money so the crows took the task right away.

The only problem with the heist was that Y/N and Kaz had to be the two who had to fake being a couple at the party to keep the merchant distracted so the others could get the necklace. “We have to do what?” Y/N exclaimed when she found out her role. She felt her chest clench at the thought of being around that many people. “I need Inej on the roofs, Jesper on the ground as backup, Wylan as a waiter ready to cause a distraction if need be, and Nina and Mattaius getting the necklace so we’re the only two left.” Kaz grumbles, obviously not happy about the situation either. Both of them sucked it up for the money.

The night of the heist Y/N was the last to be ready since she had to wear a dress and makeup. She stepped down the stairs to where the crows were waiting. As soon as she stepped into the room there were joking whistles and screams from all the crows except Kaz. Kaz stood there in shock, his breath taken away. Emma was wearing a black dress with stars on it, a simple pair of black heels, several pieces of silver moon and star jewelry and finally topping it off with a few moon and star hair pins pinning back some of her hair. She looked gorgeous.

As they got closer and closer to the party both Y/N and Kaz became increasingly more nervous. “We don’t have to touch.” She says breaking the silence between them as they were dragging behind the group. “We have to and we both know it. If we don’t touch like a couple they’ll become suspicious. I know neither of us like touch but we’ll have to deal with it.” Kaz quickly responds, his voice rigid. She just nodded, not wanting to make this night worse.

Everyone got in their positions as soon as they made it to the house, leaving Kaz and Y/N near the entrance. Kaz hesitantly grabs her hand; he was shocked when he did. He didn’t panic as much as he thought. Kaz’s aversion was worse than Y/N’s for sure since hers was mainly quick movements and things related to abuse but Kaz’s was any kind of touch. All he felt was Jordie when he touched anyone, the stench of the air, the cold water around him, the stiff body he was clenching on to. He didn’t immediately drown touching her though, he felt the waters come up but they stopped, going no further.

As the two of them continued through the night the touches became easier and more frequent, it almost felt...real. Both of them deep inside wished it was. They wished the other loved them back. The two of them got many compliments throughout the night on how cute they were and questions about how they met among other things. The way Kaz would wrap his arm around her waist made her heart stop, the way Y/N put her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him did the same to Kaz.

Once Nina and Mattaius got the necklace everyone made their way back to the slat. Everyone was happy and ready to celebrate a successful heist except for Kaz and Y/N. They had a tension that wouldn’t go away. Both knew they’d have to talk about it or it’d ruin further heists but neither wanted to make the first move. So once they got to the slat both of them lingered at the door after everyone else. “Can-” “We should-” they both went to say at the same time. They couldn’t help but laugh at how in tune they were. “We need to talk about things.” Y/N says. “I know.” Kaz says, anxiety in his voice. “I like you Kaz.” the girl states plainly, shocking the bastard of the barrel. He couldn’t say the words he wanted to but he had to say something. “Yes.” was all he could manage out. It would sound stupid to anyone else but to Y/N and Kaz they both knew what that meant. “I can never touch you like you might want though.” He says anxiously. “Kaz, I have just as much of an issue with touch as you. Physical affection isn’t something I need in a relationship. If we really want to, we can work on our aversions together.” She answers with a comforting smile. Kaz nods,knowing she's right. “So together?” Kaz questions, trying to confirm that she is his and he is hers. She nods with a smile.

That was the start of it all. The start of the King and Queen of Ketterdam, taking it over together.

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bl4cklabyrinth · 4 years

Text

WiNK UP July 2003 Translation: Brother!!

Disclaimer: Please do not retranslate my work into other languages, as my translation may not be accurate. I am no Japanese or English native. DO NOT REPOST ELSEWHERE.

The biggest thank you to Anna for helping me find the magazine clipping!

Originally posted on my Twitter.

Takahiro: Even though we live in the same house, we haven't been able to hang out at all lately.

Hiroki: But we went to Hakone together during Golden Week. You and I, with my friends...

Takahiro: That's true. Did you enjoy?

Hiroki: Yeah! We did fireworks and stuff, it was super fun.

Takahiro: But come to think of it, we didn't talk much in Hakone either (laughs). I was just relaxing in my room the whole time, while Hiroki and the others were outside and seemingly having fun... What were you guys doing?

Hiroki: We were playing games and going to the conbini to buy snacks.

Takahiro: So that's what you were doing! Hiroki, you buy way too many useless things! (laughs) You love candies with freebies and stuff like that.

Hiroki: Yup. I have a bunch of them in my room too.

Takahiro: Is there a particular kind you collect?

Hiroki: .........

Takahiro: Nothing in particular, huh (laughs). You're like that on the show "Ya-Ya-yah", but you're the same at home too. Even when mom says "Food is ready~" you're still all "..." (laughs) I've been busy with school and stuff, so I was just bumming around in Hakone. Guess I'm turning into an old man (laughs).

Hiroki: No you're not, you're not getting old at all!

Takahiro: You're praising me~

Hiroki: But whenever I'm at home watching TV and onii-chan enters the room, you always look tired and it worries me a little.

Takahiro: It's a lot harder when you're in middle school (laughs). You'll understand when you get to middle school too.

Hiroki: What's middle school like?

Takahiro: Unlike in elementary school, studying becomes more difficult. Hiroki should work hard as well!

Hiroki: Studying's hard? What's the hardest part for you?

Takahiro: Probably math. When arithmetic (T/N: elementary math) reaches middle school, its name gets changed to mathematics (T/N: higher math). It's hard, you know. How about you, what are you currently good at in school?

Hiroki: Science! (T/N: natural science) At the moment, we're observing sponge gourds and bottle gourds. It's fun!

Takahiro: We did something like that during my time too (laughs). But I've been bad at science since I was in elementary.

Hiroki: What's your favorite subject?

Takahiro: Japanese and... And art!

Hiroki: Ah, onii-chan is good at drawing too.

Takahiro: Really? Thanks.

Hiro: You draw from time to time at home too. A picture of a car or a bug. I was surprised at how well you drew that beetle!

Takahiro: Tell me more, tell me more~ (laughs)

Hiroki: You're really good. One day, I want to go to the same middle school as you.

Takahiro: Is that so~ Well then, do your best and study hard!

Hiroki: But whenever I look at you, you seem like you have it tough, so I'd rather stay a grade schooler.

Takahiro: I can't let you see me too tired (laughs). Oh, is there anything you want to tell me? This is a rare opportunity, so I'll do whatever you want... Ah, but I'm a bit nervous (laughs).

Hiroki: Uhm, I want to play soccer with you! And draw pictures again with you!

Takahiro: Good, if that's all you want then I can manage (laughs). Got it! Well then, let's play soccer and draw together next time.

Hiroki: Okay! A drawing of a car would be nice.

Takahiro: Alright, a drawing of a car it is. Now I'm gonna ask you to do me a favor.

Hiro: Sure, what is it?

Takahiro: Read the room a little more (laughs). Do you understand what I mean?

Hiroki: ...Yeah, sort of.

Takahiro: You can do whatever you want at home. But when you're on a show or when visitors come to our house, you should pull yourself together a little more. Oh look, your onii-chan said something good just now (laughs).

Hiroki: Okay, I will!

Takahiro: I get to watch "Ya-Ya-yah" once in a while, and I think you're doing great for your first time. But stop saying "ふつう" (laughs). (T/N: It's Hiro's tagline in the show which means normal, plain or ordinary, and also roughly translates to "meh") Do you still get nervous?

Hiroki: I don't get nervous anymore. But I'm glad to have you with me on the show like today.

Takahiro: Thanks! Let's keep trying out new things and working hard together!

#my first story #マイファス #Hiro #print #2003 #one ok rock #Mori bros #OH THE PAIN #SWEET SWEET PAIN #the one where we find out Taka has a praise kink #Hiro my once pure little babie #never thought soccer and art could affect me so much emotionally #but here we are #will never not be emo over the Mori bros

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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Conversation

One-Shot

Description - Captain America and Batman have a conversation on a bench.

I tried something new with this fic. It is mostly based on conversation without any action scenes. Do give your feedback if you like this new format or if not, then how can I make it better?

The only reason I am trying this new format is because the writing challenge set by @donutloverxo @captain-a-rogerss and @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho make me push my limits and step outside my comfort zone! This week, the challenge was to write a Marvel x DC crossover fic, something I have never done before. Check out the challenge here and participate now!

Warning - None

A/N - This fic is based on Steve before the first Avengers movie

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

Bruce Wayne set aside his newspaper with a huff. After a lifetime of fighting with terrorists, aliens and freaking exploding penguins, he thought he had seen everything, until today.

Headlines such as; "America's Golden Boy Returns" , "Captain America Found Alive Under Ice" , "Brrr! Is that a Popsicle? Frozen Dessert? No! It's Steve Rogers!" graced the newspapers that morning, seemingly destroying whatever little amount of peace Batman had left.

Great, another man with superpowers who might be a potential threat that I have to take care of, Bruce frowned as he pulled up information on Captain America. "Alfred," he called out, "What do you remember about Captain America?"

"Are you asking me to recite today's headlines Master Wayne?" came the prompt reply from the other room.

Bruce chucked, "Not what I meant."

"I will have you know Master Wayne that I wasn't even born when the Red, White and Blue hero went under the ice. The grey hair on my head may make me look old, but I am not a 100 years old," came the indignant reply.

"You don't say! Here I was thinking you didn't look a day over 120," teased Bruce.

"That's what happens when you worry about a future where you would be living without grandchildren to take care of," Alfred snapped, shutting up Bruce.

Bruce knew Nick Fury would be initiating Steve into S.H.I.E.L.D., his personal crime-fighting-superhero-club. Oh he knew Nick Fury very well. The man with the eye-patch had proven to harbour more mysteries than the pandora's box, a quality that didn't sit well with Bruce. That's why, when Fury had invited Batman to join the Avengers, he had bluntly refused. Looking at the blue-eyed soldier, Bruce decided to pay him a visit.

Steve Rogers was scared. He didn't recognise this world. Everything was louder. The people, the machines, the cars. Colours were more vibrant and simple things were just too complicated to understand. It was as if everything in this new world was made to attack his senses.

His Converse squeaked as he walked in the aisles of the departmental store. Converse was one of the few things still around from his time before the ice. One of the few things he still recognised.

He entered the milk aisle. He exhaled loudly as he read the options; Low Fat Milk, Full Fat Milk, Cow's Milk, Buffalo Milk, Camel, Donkey… Wait… People milked camels and donkeys? His face contorted with disgust at the thought. Moving forward, he saw more confusing options- Almond Milk, Coconut Milk, Cashew Milk… He looked on with horror. Had modern science found a way to put breasts on nuts now?! Where was normal milk? Did normal milk exist anymore?!

He clutched the handles of the basket tighter, bending the metal. He needed to get away from here. He didn't belong in this time, this century. Steve slowly took a step back, and bumped into someone.

"Heeeyy watch wherrrre you are gooooing paaal," the large man behind Steve slurred as he dropped his box of cereal and tried to retain his balance. "I am sorry," muttered Steve, even though he could have sworn there hadn't been anyone behind him until a few moments ago.

Steve looked at the man. He was as tall and well-built as Steve, heck maybe even more muscular. His black hair was disheveled, his eyes swollen red and his breath reeked of cheep alcohol and cigar.

"You pussssshed me," the stranger slurred again, "hooow darrrre yooou?" he staggered, raising his fists.

Steve picked up the box of cereal and handed the stranger a new box, "I don't want to fight you sir. Instead, can I buy you this cereal?"

The man tried to punch Steve, which he easily dodged, "Fiighttt meeee," he insisted. Steve could only smile in response, "Believe it or not sir, but I am a senior citizen, and I am not looking to pick any fight. Please, can I buy you this box of cereal?"

"Coff-feeee," the drunken man said. "Okay I will buy you coffee too," Steve agreed.

The way towards the billing counter was slow as the stranger kept stumbling into shelves and displays. Steve kept a strong grip on him and guided him in his way.

Steve even helped the stranger as he puked his guts out on the street, helping him clean his mouth with a kerchief. They both sat on the bench outside the cafe.

"Why… you… help me?" the stranger managed to ask between his panted breaths. "Why wouldn't I?" Steve seemed puzzled, "You can’t take care of yourself now, you need help. So I am helping you."

"I don't need help from you punk!" the stranger spat as he shoved Steve forcefully on the bench. It hardly shook Steve. He smiled a small smile, "Everybody needs help at some point or the other, Mr Wayne. How long do you think you can operate as the sole hero?"

Wiping his hand on the back of his mouth, Bruce smiled, "As long as I hold the key to every answer."

"Fury is not that bad," Steve scoffed.

"You don't know what's going on at S.H.I.E.L.D., do you?" challenge Bruce

Steve retorted, "I don't need to know. I am just a soldier who follows orders."

"Whose orders? And on what authority? We don't need soldiers as we are not at war. But that doesn't stop us from initiating them," Bruce stated matter-of-factly.

"I believe in people Mr Wayne. I have faith in the general good that resides deep within every citizen," remarked Steve.

"Huh," it was Bruce's turn to scoff, "Here I was thinking you are a threat, but you are just a delusional patriot. People have agendas Captain. And agendas change. People are still bad, corrupt and easily influenced. The world hasn't changed Captain. Don't let anyone tell you any different."

Steve considered Bruce's words in silence, "The world has changed Mr Wayne, in more ways than you can possibly imagine. And it's... hard to keep track of things and stay updated. But it's much more easier to follow orders, you know?"

"People are still the same Captain. And they make up the world. As for keeping track," Bruce leaned back on the bench, "You can keep a list of things you need to learn."

Steve nodded, getting up, "That's a good idea. Let me get you that coffee and maybe you can tell me what can I add to the list?"

Steve turned around and entered the cafe.

"Hi how can I help you?" the barista greeted him cheerfully. "Can I get a coffee?" requested Steve.

"Sure! Which one would you like to have? A cappuccino? Americano? Espresso? Latte? Moch-"

"Son, please just give me a normal coffee," pleaded Steve.

"Sure sir. Which size do you want? We have Tall, Tumbl-"

"Just. A. Normal. Coffee. Please," Steve gritted his teeth.

He stepped out with the hot coffee, only to find the bench empty, except for the cereal box. He read the note stuck on the box, "I will keep an eye on you", the note promised.

Bruce settled back in his chair in his underground workshop. He laughed when he noticed the cereal box and the to-go cup of coffee, which was still warm. He laughed as he read the note stuck on the cup, "Tell Alfred I said hi. And please ask him if he will be willing to start a Barbershop Quartet with me?"

Steve returned home sweaty from the workout. He chuckled when he saw the carton of milk in his kitchen, with the words NORMAL MILK written in big, bold letters. He read the note that came with it, "Alfred expresses his apologies as he will be unable to join your Barbershop Quartet. However, he does have a recommendation for your list. He suggests you watch 'I Love Lucy', an American sitcom from the 1950s. It had been quite popular then."

"Sir, do you think Batman will join our forces if need be?" Maria Hill asked Nick Fury as he read Natasha's report on Bruce and Steve.

"I don't know," Fury said, "But it is always beneficial to have friends on the other side, should the situation arise."

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo

Chris/Chris' characters taglist: @onetwo3000

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

#captainsweeklychallenge #marvel x dc #batman x captain america #bruce x steve #bruce wayne x steve rogers #gotham #avengers

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no-error · 4 years

Text

Fantasy Klance Ficrec

Finally new list for fic recs. Hope ya all enjoy these awesome fics. :)

Remember check out tags!

Of Wolves and Wisps

Lance knows not to seek with his mind in the woods. The fae have a habit of twisting the desires sought by those who chase after the wisps. But when given no other choice, Lance makes the decision to alter his path. To change his fate.

He should have known, really, how things would turn out.

Never call out to wolves. One may just answer.

Words: 145,585 AO3

The Criminal Witch and His Knight of a Husband

Series

Under the rule of an unjust king, witches not employed by the crown had become illegal in the kingdom of Altea. Not wanting to work for a filthy murderer of a man, Lance spitefully refused to get his certification at the normal age of sixteen. But that was over half a decade ago. Altea is now ruled by the beautiful and reasonable Queen Allura, and Lance finds himself happily married to her head knight, despite his fugitive status.

Lance struggles with helping hot headed, prone to danger Keith stay alive, while simultaneously keeping his ability to cast spells a secret. He can't have him figuring anything out. After all, the last thing he wants is for his own husband to arrest him.

Words: 80,309 AO3

Star Cursed

A Dragon familiar is the last thing Lance expects to summon when he graduates lowest in the class at the Magerium. All he wants to do is summon a toad or a cat and get to work, but summoning a High Magic creature like a Dragon is something no one has done in hundreds of years. The Dragon, named Keith (why, WHY is he named Keith), is trained to be a familiar for the most powerful of mages.

Unluckily for him, Lance is assigned the task of lesser potions master. Lance has to navigate a precarious balance of grumpy-Dragon-with-nothing-to-do on top of his workload of boring tasks. That’s when he isn’t enduring the ridicule of the other students, who believe him to be “Star Cursed.” To make matters worse, discontent in the Magerium is brewing and it might mean danger for all High Magic creatures, which currently includes one Dragon named Keith

Words: 152,239 AO3

fit the crown to my head

“What’s the fun in a masquerade if you don’t flirt outrageously with the prettiest person in the room?” the young man says flippantly, and then winks at Keith. Keith huffs a laugh, amused.

“You keep saying things like that, but you haven’t seen my face,” he says, gesturing to his mask. “I could have warts under here. I could have spots, or scars.”

“You’d be lovely even with all of those,” the young man says, and he suddenly sounds serious. It takes Keith by surprise, makes his heart twist along with his stomach. “Your eyes,” he continues, tilting his head. “I’ve never seen eyes like yours before.”

Words: 75,705 AO3

Magic Bound & Unbound

Set in a world where familiars and witches are paired to perform magic together, Lance is an aspiring witch who is desperate to find his bondmate. He's dreamed of the day when he would be able to perform bonded magic, but hides a dark secret that could ruin everything. Keith is a familiar who's seen a little too much of the world. He's been paired with witches multiple times and each one has forced and broken a bond on him, so now he swears off ever letting himself be paired again.

When they meet, though, Lance triggers something in Keith and it scares the hell out of him. A part of him desperately wants to be paired, but he's not sure he can take rejection one more time.

Words: 56,345 AO3

Regarding Park Benches and Demon Bites

Lance forces his eyes open, all the way this time. It takes them a second to adjust, and when they do, his stomach plummets to the center of the earth. The man is in a black shirt, the sleeves rolled up on his forearms to reveal the runes inked across his pale skin. There’s a sword strapped across his back, a big one.

“You’re a Shadowhunter,” Lance blurts. Lance’s mother had warned him about getting mixed up with these bloodthirsty maniacs, and here he is, half conscious next to the very people he’d worked so hard to avoid the last two years. He’s fucked. Royally screwed. He isn’t sure what kind of punishment is handed out to warlocks for public intoxication but his mind races through options like indefinite imprisonment, dismemberment, death?

Words: 8,999 AO3

you build your tower (but call me home)

In the land of Arus, the youngest Nalquodian prince—Prince Leandro—is hidden away in a little castle that overlooks the kingdom; a countermeasure to protect him from the Galran assassins that have sworn to take his life.

And in the tallest tower of the castle, behind a grimy rose window and under a dusty sheet, is an enchanting gargoyle that the prince finds himself compelled to visit every day.

Almost as if by a spell...

Words: 63,041 AO3

Wild Magic

The Vastaya are an ancient and proud race, born of magic and man, and they are dying. The spread of humans makes the magic of their homelands run thin. What is left is preyed upon and corrupted by the rising galra influence.

After losing their home, what remains of the Marmora tribe scatters, fighting the spread of corruption where they can. For the last few centuries, this is the only life Keith has known. And with Shiro’s disappearance, he’s more alone than ever. But he keeps going, even if it means losing himself. For the fight. For his people. For their future. For his homelands. For magic.

The last thing he expected to find is another feathered vastaya, one with wings that shine like the sky and move like waves when he dances. He never asked for company, never wanted it. But as Keith finds himself growing fond of Lance’s flippant attitude and determined blue eyes, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want to fight alone anymore.

Words: 151,776 AO3

A Touch of Magic

"Keith—" He feels his heart lurch as Keith squats down next to him. One hand on his wolf's head, scratching behind his ear. His eyes, however, remain fixed on Lance, and he had really hoped that the whole dry-mouth-lump-in-the-throat-heart-skipping-a-beat thing would've stopped happening when he turned, but here he is. Vampiric and still the flustered mess he was when he was human. "Buddy, I can't breathe—"

"You don't have to breathe," He says, that ghost of a smile still fixed and the whisper of amusement in his voice.

It sends chills down his spine.

Lance huffs as much as he can when there's a large wolf crushing his chest. "That doesn't mean it's not uncomfortable."

"You'll survive." He pats his wolf one last time before pushing to his feet. "Better luck next time, Lance."

"I'll get you one day, Keithy boy." He calls out as Keith walks away, disappearing from his vision and continuing down the path. "Just you wait."

Words: 19,953 AO3

For Fox Sake

Foxtail series

Photography has always been an passion of Keith's. Being able to capture that perfect moment - grant it immortality and unleash it to the world so that the people may decide what stories they tell - is what he lives for.

So when given the opportunity to expand his horizons, Keith finds himself on a month long excursion in the middle of nowhere, with only his camera and his own thoughts to keep him company.

And this forest - this mountainous landscape seemingly untouched by human hands - holds more than just a vast array of scenic landscapes and wondrous wildlife worthy of being captured in film.

It holds a secret. One Keith hadn't anticipated discovering, much less believing. And though they say "take only pictures, leave only footprints", Keith worries that when he finally has to return to his mundane world, he'll be leaving more than just tracks on the ground.

But his heart has always belonged to the woods, and he knows the fox will guard it well.

Words: 80,888 AO3

Ghost on the Shore

After moving into an desolated house in a swamp, Keith finds that the area's not as abandoned as he anticipated. He soon meets Lance, a mysterious boy that apparently lives out in the marsh, and who seems to possess magical powers to a certain degree.

Words: 37,055 AO3

It Never Rains on Saturday

Rain or Shine Series

In the magical kingdom of Altea lies an ominous tower filled with monsters. Every day, adventurers battle through the tower’s levels in a never-ending quest to slay the Demon King who lives at the very top.

Lance, a talented archer, is one such adventurer. However, Lance doesn’t want to kill the Demon King.

Lance wants to marry him.

Words: 22,726 AO3

Nameless

Lance McClain was not pale. He enjoyed the sun as much as any other, and though he was often run down or fatigued, this was due to his steadily amounting college work, not his need to sleep upside down. He was everything a vampire wasn't. Oh, except for his constant cravings for blood, and the name in cursive permanently scrawled over his wrist.

Since the name had appeared on Lance's thirteenth birthday, he'd been desperately waiting for the day he'd finally meet his soulmate. And it finally comes, the first day of his second year of college, delivering a boy that causes everything Lance had fantasized to come crashing down around him. Not only is his mate a human, but he's the kind of human that despises vampires. A hunter named Keith.

But matters of the heart aren't the only thing standing in Lance's way, for a much greater enemy is on the horizon, posing a threat not only to Lance and his family, but to Keith, too. The nameless are coming for them, and soon.

Words: 102,409 AO3

Were-woof

Living off the grid is one thing. Keith had been doing it his whole life. However, now that the mountain he has lived on his whole live is slowly being developed thanks to a ski resort it's getting harder and harder for Keith to keep to himself. Especially when he happens to catch the eye of a rather cute looking townie.

Words: 133,954 AO3

An Eternal Flame

“Do you have a deathwish?” The phoenix answers him with a question this time, apparently intent on dodging the question about its name. Maybe it’s for the best, Lance’s mama always warned him that he tended to get attached to things once he’d named them. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath.

He isn’t going to get attached this time.

Making sure that he’s still holding the phoenix’s attention, he reaches down and pushes his cloak aside, then lifts his shirt. There, bright red and ugly against his hip, are three long slashes. They aren’t scars, they aren’t healed in the slightest, they’re still red and open wounds. They don’t hurt, not in the physical sense, but Lance can’t help the repulsion he feels whenever he looks at them.

“Not a deathwish, a death sentence.”

Words: 63,692 AO3

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