#part two is mostly written but it's been mostly written for ages and i'm sick of this one sitting in my drafts so it's getting posted now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freshlyrage · 1 month

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 31

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 8.5k

A/N: I got a bit carried away. HEHEHEHE.

Andrea's little look

When the sun comes in you aren’t regretful. But you aren’t happy.

Your head is pounding and there’s a pit in your stomach that you can’t get rid of and it isn’t from the remnants of alcohol. Your legs are intertwined and his palm is laid flat on your stomach. There’s a part of you expecting to wake up and rub yourself on him, continue what you left off last night. But you have the urge to cry.

“I don’t know what came over me last night.” He speaks first, raspy from sleep or maybe lack thereof. “We shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have.”

“it wasn’t just you. I wanted it to happen.”

You remove his palm from your belly and raise it, fingers around his wrist you intertwine your other hand with his. It was calloused and littered with tiny abrasions. Much more man. “But I think I know it wasn’t right. I don’t feel really good.” Stroking your thumb over the knuckle of his pointer finger. Skin had been split there many times, you feel it.

His chest stutters below your cheek. “I’m sorry.” His voice is so broken you drop his hand and shoot straight up. His eyes are darkened and there’s tears out of the corner of his eyes. One falling too quickly for him to hide it. Your own chin quivers and you sit criss crossed beside him, taking the pad of your thumbs to wipe the tears that continue to fall. You whisper his name, leaning close to kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry I pushed you away…I was sick from feeling so guilty—I couldn’t focus the first few months—until I started therapy—Andrea..” His voice rips and his eyes are swarmed with tears. You weren’t— you couldn’t be immune to his tears. You weren’t angry, you never could be. Not when you know how he was taken advantage of.

“Javi…” You wipe his cheeks. It’s all you could say.

“Tell me— tell me how it made you feel.”

“I was mostly feeling for you—because of what she did-“ You lie and he shakes his head.

“Just tell me.” He sits up and you shuffle to give me space. “Tell me so I can stop driving myself crazy. So that when you leave I’ll be fine.”

The tables turned and you hate it.

You recall being in this position, wanting every answer from him so that you aren’t left to spiral when he leaves. There’s so much to tell him, he looks so desperate. So tortured by his own circumstance. You swallow, furrowing your brows. Wondering how to start. How to lay all of it out on the table. You peek at the window, the sun creeping in, it's early. Early enough for the house to still be silent. Your hair is mussed, you feel his wet eyes burning a hole through you.

“I hated you. For those two weeks. My cheeks would get red from anger when I thought about how careless you could be… plan a future with me after everything we went through– after everything I went through. It drove me crazy that you couldn’t fucking keep track of who you fucked and when or whatever. I was already feeling insecure when she came into the bathroom at Frankie’s wedding, I knew something was wrong. Honestly, I don't even remember the night when you told me. All I recall is the moment you told me, the pain I felt in my chest. I don't know—I realized over the years that I had the mental power to completely block out what hurts me the most. Like I don't think I can make out my fathers face and I can't remember that night. It started my journey to try to forget you.” You know every word is hurting him but maybe he could get a taste of what you felt. Your thinking isn't spiteful, you just want him to understand. He asked for this. “Lorraine was lying, I know. But you took responsibility so quickly, I know you had no idea but the idea that it could have been true felt like a heartbreak in itself. You laughed last night… when I told you how hurt I was–crying to songs–”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Javier, it's okay. You just have to know that I spent those two weeks picturing you rubbing her belly, and laying in bed with her, and whispering to her to not wake your father up. And at the wedding she said that you used to tell her I was nothing to you. I couldn't picture you saying it but after the wedding I could see it clearly. I knew it was really over when I saw you holding her at 7/11. I walked away without saying anything but I was really hoping you’d come after me.”

You can't see him, he’s sat up now, shifted behind you but his downcast gaze is felt. You can feel him thinking behind you, you're taking him step by step along your brain. “I decided I was going to move away. I buried myself in phone calls and realtors and car dealerships, packed everything or whatever. I didn’t speak to anyone really, just wanted to disappear. But I wasn’t going to miss your wedding.”

“Why?” He isn’t crying anymore, the fog in your brain clears. Glancing over your shoulder you connect with his own blood shot stare.

“I had to see it so I can just move on. You know… then we all found out.” He asked not to see you. “I was so heartbroken for you. All the pain I felt from the rejection from my father, from when you left for Houston, from when you told me she was pregnant– none of it compared to the pain I felt for you when I found out it was all a lie. I just wanted to see you.” Fuck, your voice finally gives. You could spell it out for him like you did the rest, you could tell him that his request freed you while simultaneously ripping you in half. You know it led you to accomplish all the things you wanted, you left your doomed home for christ's sake. But I wanted you to do it with me. We could have left together. You think your body's decision to sob and fold over into your hands tells him the rest of what he needs to know.

“Andrea…” He whispers, his hands encircling your shoulders. You shake him off.

You catch a breath and wipe your tears with your palms. Probably dragging some mascara along the way. “It isn’t smart for us to be doing this. I promised myself I wouldn't. I should go.” Your body begins before you can even form a thought. Getting off his bed, still in tears you search for your panties. The bed springs with him coming to his feet and he’s so much larger than you, you begin to miss fifteen minutes ago when you were nothing but someone encased by his warmth. You snatch the small thing and nearly fall over from blurry eyed vision while attempting to put them on. Like the gentlemen he was and fuck him, Javier holds your arm steady. “Thanks.” You murmur before padding away from him.

“Don’t leave… you don’t have to stay here like we said but please…” He rasps, “Please dont leave yet.” He lets go of your wrist. You were a victim to his begging eyes, and frankly you loved the chase. No matter how many times it hurts you. It’s too easy for him to convince you but he heard you. You had to be fair, you had to listen to him.

Without a word you pull the chair of his desk with a screeching sound. He fucked you there once or twice. You missed when memories still felt sweet. You settle down on the chair, elbows on the desk you inhale and exhale steadily. In your peripheral Javier settles at the corner of the bed.

“I won’t keep you here. I didn’t scheme to have you back in my bed, to confuse you—frankly I’m fucking confused. I’m confused on what I feel. I’ve spent years working out how to approach you, my therapist brought me through it. I knew once I saw you I had to tell you everything, I had to apologize and let you make the decision whether you wanted me in your life or not.“ It comes out all in one breath, no longer a whisper or a rasp. “And I’m so fucking sorry but the second I saw you all of that went out the window and I shouldn’t have done this.”

“I offered to sleep in bed with you.” You correct, he was apologetic about the wrong things.

“I was emotionally manipulated by Lorraine. I don’t care if it makes me sound weak, I’ve worked it out with my therapist. I already felt like I needed to push away anyone I loved, I guess I’m like my mother in that way. It’s not an excuse but through all the shit I went through in Colombia at the very least I can say I left that place with a better understanding of myself. I made too many decisions for you—for us. I thought I was protecting you—it’s what I feel like I’m actually good at. And I want to tell you that I have changed, that you have to stay so we can make it work. I want to—” He’s speaking with his hands and suddenly they drop to his lap. “But I can’t keep making decisions for you. It didn’t work before, it’s unhealthy. So please Andrea… just—. What do you want?”

Your blood runs dry. Sobered in an instant from your state at the hardwood, your brows furrow. “What?”

“I will spend every day of my life apologizing to you if that’s what you need. I’ll never speak to you again if that’s what you want. I’ll move to New York and you know I hate New Yorkers. I’ll move on. I’ll leave town without a trace. I’ll do whatever you want.” It’s desperate, your heart is beating against your rib cage so hard you fear it’ll break the bones. “What do you want Andrea?”

You feel like you’ve been here before, your future spanning across your palm. Choice is a funny thing, especially when the possibilities are endless. Yet for someone like you, choice feels constrictive-suffocating—panic inducing. It feels like your heart is going to break through skin and bone. What a mess your mind is, what beauty.

Everything speeds and flashes those few seconds you’re absorbing the simple question of what do you want?

You see Javier pinching the skin of your back inspecting the freckles there when you were twelve, Javier lifting you up to give you a better view, Javier kissing you for the first time, Javier coming home, Javier telling you that he loves you.

He always made the choice to touch you, to kiss you, he said he loved you first. In this Chess board he played white and made the first move. You accept each move because it’s Javi and he has a read on just exactly what you want.

You lift your chin.

“I want to be given time. I want to see that you’ve worked on yourself. I want to learn you again. I want you to learn me. We can see each other as friends while I’m here. I won’t be staying the night with you again, there’s too much—“

“Sexual tension.” He finishes and you roll your eyes hard, it burns from its previous use (sobbing).

“To put it lightly. “ You sigh, wiping the last wet spot on your cheek. Feeling confident when in control. “I want us…” Your brows knit, overtaken by the reality that he will quite literally do anything you say. “To go to dinner.” His brows raise. “As exes—and friends. I want to know everything, I want you to tell me there.”

He shrugs, “I can tell you now.”

“No. I need a neutral environment.” He nods in agreement, the two of you tried to be vulnerable last night and that ended with your pussy on his face. “I want you to speak to Lorraine.”

You watch his body language shift, he was sitting almost boyish and relieved that you had taken control of the situation but this request—it almost looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin. Cheeks paling. “Only if you feel you’re ready to. I will too, separately or together—whichever you prefer. Even if I decide to stay exes, this could be a step to fixing our friendship because we lost that too.” You bring one knee up on the chair and rest your cheek on it. Afraid to say this next part because it might discredit all these boundaries your setting in place. Attempting to be progressive and modern and healthy. Maybe it was the school teacher in you. You lick your lips a bit anxious to speak again.

Javier’s eyes narrow, he leans forward with his arm crossed. “Is that all?”

“I don’t want to hear about whatever hookers you paid when you were away. It’s disgusting and frankly disrespectful to even bring up to me.” Yeah, maybe you were being a little hypocritical and rash. But fuck it, if he said he’d do anything you’d ask.

“Correct if I’m wrong but-“

“Javi, I don’t give a fuck. You said anything.” Your jealous bone was a lethal one. It was like an open wound you loved to toy at.

Sadistically, you pressed him for answers and you were even more furious internally that he actually answered them as if it were nothing. You’re sure when you were tipsy and warm and horny, it didn’t bother you. But you swear your eye twitched the moment you woke and replayed that conversation in your head. Win stupid prizes you suppose, tough shit.

“Alright.” He rasps with a curt nod. His eyes full of promise, nervous and prepared to ace the exam you laid out for him. Ms. Diaz style.

With the morning birds chirping at his window, collar bone exposed from his shirt ruffled from your hold on him the entire night. Javier was here, in front of you, twenty six years of age. 3 years in the police force. Six years in the DEA. Each time you see him he looks older than the day before but still you stare and see just Javi. The unchanging eyes that have done nothing but adore you your entire life. Lips that called you beautiful when no one had, called you smart. Plush lips that kissed you. Hands that pushed you in rivers and pulled you back out. Fingernails that traced words into your sleeping back. The two of you, changing in time mentally-physically and still somehow possessing a love so strong it goes unchanged.

Your decision was made. You’re not sure he’s deserving of your never ending generosity. You’ll give it to him anyway.

He just needs a bit of fear in his heart.

You decide to sneak out before Chucho could wake. You tell Javi that you’ll call him later, that you need time alone. Or maybe away is what you meant. He looked pained and truthfully, you felt just the same. How easy it would have been to drop your pride and climb back into bed. Be safe, know deep in your heart that he would never hurt you, not again. You believe the words he says, you just want to make sure he believes it.

You realize, very rudely, that you aren’t sixteen anymore and this isn’t a summer at the lake. The Christmas morning air was chilly and you were ready to spend the day in your hotel room wondering if this was all a big mistake.

Driving out of the rolling fields and into town, you're forced to take a back road to your hotel because of Laredo’s Light and Lord Christmas Fair. It was your favorite part of Christmas until age thirteen when the fair went from running around with your friends to a day to hang with your boyfriends. It wasn’t like you had many friends outside your brother but the Christmas fair was always an opportunity to just have fun with girls your age. Of course until everyone got boyfriends. You hated on it but you secretly wanted to also walk around cozied up with someone you loved, decorate some cookies and kiss with sugar laced lips.

It doesn’t seem like this Christmas will cut it either. You fish the gold little key from your cup holder and shuffle back out of your car and into your hotel room. Phone rattling on the desk. You frown, thoroughly confused and slightly creeped out by the telephone seemingly going off while you weren’t there. Your hotel rooms a mess from your nerves of seeing your family. Hah, imagine what the place would look like if you were warned about Javi. You don't think too hard and pick up the phone before you can set your purse down.

“Hello?”

“I don’t want to be apart from you.”

Your heart swells and your cheeks heat. You should have known giving him your hotel room extension was a bad idea. He was always like this, a flirt on the phone because you couldn't be there to smack his hand. You shut your eyes and place your hands on your hips like a mom ready to scold. “How many times have you called?”

“Twice, will you come back. It felt like we argued.” He rasps and you consider it for just a moment.

“We didn’t argue.” You say it softly and you can’t understand why. You settle into the desk and begin undressing to just sleep the day away.

He clears his throat, “I guess I’m not used to you being around and willingly deciding to leave my room. It feels like you're punishing me.”

“That’s not what this is. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“I know.” You hear the unspoken, so why can’t we just be together. You know it’s what he’s thinking because when you’re around each other logic runs out the door and all you can conjure up is acting on the intense feeling of love you have for each other. You’ve got to learn to harness it, because look where it got you your whole lives.

“If it makes a difference, I don't want to be doing this.”

“So don’t” It’s quick and biting and his voice is clear as day.

“I just don’t want us to make a crazy decision before working things out. I don’t want…” Your voice dies a bit, it's much easier to say it how it is without seeing his face. “I don’t want us not to work again because we rushed into things and chose not to acknowledge everything between us. I can’t-I can’t- I don’t have it in me.”

I’m tired, I miss you so badly but you were hurt more than me and I want you to recognize it. One day you’ll figure that all I want is for you to be okay.

“Okay.” It’s soft and so him. It’s the tone he has when you're dozing off against his chest, when his palm cradles the back of your head. When he speaks to you like there’s nothing that could ever do you harm. “I’ll stick to the plan. You tell me when to call Lorraine, I’ll do it. Tell me when you want to have dinner. I’ve done harder things in my life.” He chuckles beyond the phone and you follow suit. Missing him and damning your attempt at self control. Unsure what to say next you look around the room because you’re afraid of the silence that comes once you hang up. Soon to be a stark realization that now that you’ve had him again you’ll need him around.

“Well…” You fill the awkward silence with even more awkwardness.

“I have a request for our relationship repair list.”

You smirk, eyes trained to the carpeted ground, It amazes you how white the rug was for a hotel room.”Shoot.”

“Let me call you every night. Good night or a conversation or whatever.”

Cheeks ablaze you feel your tiny smile lines deepen. There's nothing more humbling than smiling at nothing. You were smiling deeply and you hope he can’t hear it in your voice when you say, “Sure.” in an attempt of being aloof and collected. You’d be kicking your feet if you could. Staring at the pink off-shoulder top that will likely be out to no use this trip. You think of sugar kisses. “Come to my hotel at 5. I want to go to the Christmas fair.”

You hear the springs of his bed loud and creaking like he sat up, “Like a date?” A bit too high, he clears his throat.

“No. Like Javi and Andrea hanging out in town. As friends. “ You’re not convinced yourself. “Okay?”

“Okay."

Javier is whipped, to put it lightly. He didn’t really care if it's just two friends hanging out. What a joke. Javier showered fifteen minutes longer than usual, hoping the stains of who he was in Colombia don’t show. Tempted to scrub his skin raw he decides that you’d have him stains and all. He steamed the red button up that had been catching dust at the top of his suitcase, ruffled his hair in the mirror–once–twice–three times. He gets it the way you like. Slightly falling over his forehead and curling at his nape naturally. His hair was swept to the side these days, an attempt to look like he has it together. He knows what you like best. You’ve never commented about it but he remembers the look you used to give him when he let his hair be. He considers putting on his ranch hat, sunglasses but opts the brown belt, jeans and cowboy boots had said enough.

Dr. Hertz is going to kill me, he thinks the moment he looks at himself in the mirror and considers cutting flowers from the yard.

Waiting for the bathroom so he could brush his teeth once more he wonders what gotten into you two last night. He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, so quickly the two of you were reduced to sex crazed animals. He told himself it wasn’t going to be this way, that no matter how good you looked and— you never looked better— no matter what— he’d show you how good he could be first.

But he fucked it all up talking about his hookers and eating your cunt.

Now he’s being forced to show you how good he could be—on your own terms. Which was both terrifying and absolutely exhilarating. You must know how flustered he gets when you take control. He can feel himself crumbling already. Ready to drop to his knees and beg you just to trust his word.

But you were a school teacher, you had to have believed in the tales you told your students. The hare and the tortoise. Slow and steady wins the race. He’ll be at that pace as long as it’s you at the finish line.

Javier told Chucho that he was taking you out to the Holiday festival. He just smiled and went on with his business, which was wrapped in a blanket on his recliner watching a new American Experience episode on Ellis Island. Javier chuckles to himself while retrieving his keys at how content his father was on days like these.

Turning the keys with a jiggle, Javier realizes his fathers truck was pushing on fifteen years old. I should really buy my own car. It struggles like it always did but eventually tracks the gravel onto the road. It was a chillier Christmas, like the weather knew you’d be in town. Give you a real taste of winter. The roads were clear up until main street when Javi realized that maybe taking the road past the festival wasn’t the smartest idea. He’ll blame his newfound discomfort for American roads after years in Colombia.

“Fuck.” He mutters, looking at the window and realizing that all of Laredo would be there. Strangers who knew him, who read about him, who would wonder why he was here. Wondering why he was here with you and not Lorraine. They last saw him as the man who left the golden girl at the altar. The judging stares and whispers would be a guarantee.

But once he approaches the grubby hotel you were at, your blinds open. Perched up on your bed in a pink sweater, eyes glued to a notebook scribbling. Heedful in your own way, like whatever you had to write was very important. Cute little ripple between your brows. In 1986 your hair was dark with a diamond in your nose.

You lighten your hair, stop wearing your nose ring and start wearing rings. Javier feels his chest tighten with every second he’s looked at you since yesterday. It’s like every time you see him you’re trying to remind him that there will never be anyone else.

Javier looks at himself in the rear view like a kid getting ready for his first date, nervous. It seemed that you noticed his headlights through your window because when he looked back up you were opening the door to your hotel. Javier opens the door to receive you. Light pink sweater falling off your shoulder showing him skin that would mean nothing to him if it were anyone else, but it’s you and his urge to step close and kiss that freckled spot. Brown skirt flowing below your knees. He’s ogling you and he doesn’t care, he’s never seen anyone more beautiful. When he looks back up at your face you're doing the same, eyes glued to his hair. Score.

“Hi.” He steps close and grabs your waist and places a chaste kiss on the cheek. Skin soft, you smell good enough to eat. He clears his throat, readjusting his belt as he straightens up and you burn bright red. “You look beautiful.”

Timid eyes flash back to him, “Thank you, you look good too. Like the hair.”

Javier’s lips twitch for a smile but he bites it back. “Let’s head on the road before this car breaks down.”

You snort and cackle, just a week ago who told himself he’d do anything to hear that goofy laugh of yours. One that would ring out in the cafeteria, earned side glances and scoffs from people who were too cool for school. He remembers sitting tables away, Lorraine clung to him and his ears perking up at the sound of your giggle from feet away.

“God I’ve done way too much in that car.” Javier steals a glance at you in the same way you look at him. Kicking your sandals off, pulling over and bouncing in his lap. You both looked at each other and pictured the same distant memory. Your eyes narrow stopping at the door of the truck. “Not. Like that.” Through your teeth yet still teasing , opening the door and hopping in.

He says under his breath, “Yeah sure.”

“God this was a shit idea.” The two of you stood side by side in the middle of mainstreet. Parking lots turned into grounds for dingy rides. Tents set up with rigged games. Crowded at every corner. Children running, laughter and The Ronettes blasting so loud it sparks your nerves. You look up at Javier next to you and he’s already pulling out a cigarette. “Everyone’s here. I swear I just saw Josefina Alto with a baby bump.” You exhale. Javier looks to you from the corner of his eye, lighting his cigarette.

“Who’s that?” He murmurs, stick dangling from his lip.

“Seriously?” You cross your arms, he gives the same dumb stare and shrugs. “The girl you had sex with right before we started dating.” In the bar, trying to forget about me. You might add but chose not to get him in uncharted waters. His brows shoot high, a small play of realization and disgust spreads across his features. His eyes drop to the ground.

“Yeah.” He says it to himself like a child punished. You hadn’t figured that running into people you’d like to avoid is absolutely what will happen tonight. He drags and exhales. Looking ahead at the food stables ahead, decked in green and red. “Fuck it. I see Elote.” He begins to walk and you follow with a giggle. Impossible to stay mad. Tempted to grab his hand but this isn’t what this was. You’re not sure who needs more convincing, you or him. Elote didn’t really read Christmas but any fair was a place for great vendors. You try to catch up with Javier’s steps but fail considering he had a head start and far more comfortable shoes.

“Wait up!” You shout, shivering a bit. Texas really took the New York out of you. Despite the blistering reality of being seen and judged the fair was a beautiful sight. Christmas lights strung between light posts. Storefronts decorated with tinsel and the sounds of laughter from young teens in the artificial snow pit a few feet away.

Javier shook his head and glanced behind at you, “No one told you to wear kitten heels. Ms. Nueva York.” He says in an accent so thick it’s much more “nueva yol” than york.

Eyes rolled, you try to keep up. “I could say the same about the ranchero costume Agente.”

“Haha.” He deadpans. Approaching a crowd of teens in the middle of their way, the line to the swings bleeding into streets of food trucks. Javi stops for you and distracted by the world surrounding you, you walk straight into his back. Nearly falling over Javier swings around and grasps your wrists. Bringing attention to them. Pulling you through the crowd with head nods of hellos and permiso’s. He really was a celebrity to these kids. Eyes wide and shocked at the sight of their hometown hero. Él mató a Escobar! And whispers alike. Wide eyes like he was Princess Di. Glances at you, fortunately they were middle and high school aged children who likely didn’t know what a scandal Javier Peña and Andrea Diaz had been for many years.

You figured your neighbors and church goers would come up with their own stories. It wasn’t until a late night call with Genie that you decided to pry and ask if people had asked about her.

Well, the people at the wedding saw what they saw. They saw you leaving abruptly into the church where Lorraine was. Heard commotion in the chapel and then Javi never showed up. Then people started telling their own stories, seeing you kiss him at the library just a week before, sneaking out to his car or whatever those people stuck their nose at. Everyone just thinks you're the other woman.

And well, you were quite set on not being home for longer than two weeks a year before you found out what was being said. The stomach turning panic you develop each time you're home wasn’t aimless.

Fuck them all, you grip Javier’s hand tighter and he looks back at you as if he’s asking you are you okay? He leads you to the line. The only sound between them is the christmas bells and chatter. Eyes flashing to your conjoined hands you jump out of your own skin and drop his hand. His brows twitch and you know it hurts him. Deflect, deflect, deflect.

“You're a real local hero.”

He grunts, crossing his arms and you notice a slight bulge in the pockets of his denim jacket. “They can add that to the list of rumors.” You scoff, a breeze causing a rise of skin on your collarbone. You move up in line, the vendor's face is familiar but not enough to place a name. He still stares at the two of you a bit longer than your nerves appreciated. “¿Nos puedes dar dos elotes y dos chocolates con licor, por favor?¿Tienes cambio para un billete de cien?”

“Javi.” You tug his sleeve but he waves you off. This was how it used to be, you cursing him while pulling out your wallet and him looking at you feeling so deeply offended that you would dare lift a finger to pay for anything. Suppose Javier Peña was a traditionalist in that way. You know you’d be taken care of your whole life if you decided that was what you wanted. The vendor smiles and heads to prepare your order. Javier turned to you, fixing the cuffs of his sleeves. “I have a job you know.”

His lips flip in a mocking frown with a shrug, “Thanks for the information.”

“Jodón.”

“That’s liquor.” Javier grunts, settling into the picnic table. You sip too, face screwing.

Coughing, “Oh fuck. That shouldn't be allowed.” Javi nods, using a bite of his corn as a chaser. He groans in approval and tilts the cobb toward you. You comply, biting into it, mindful of not looking suggestive.

His stare burns anyway.

You can’t pretend, none of this felt real. It was too easy to fall back in, to laugh, to share food, to bicker, to touch. Could it be this easy? It couldn’t be. Easy wasn’t really Andrea and Javi’s thing. Weighted with anxiety, you bask in his gaze and all of it goes away. You can only think of how it feels to be heard. How it felt to have him with you the day you met your father. How just last night he held you. How you still touched your empty ear lobe when you felt alone. This, this has to work this time. I don’t have it in me to love anything else–anyone else. I’ll forever be plagued by you and all the years we spent apart and the months we spent in love.

Wiping your lips and murmuring a mouthful thank you. You decide to get on track. Stick to the plan. Put it all out there so you could never hurt each other again. Ask him the questions that make him break contact.

And you do the thing you always do, “Is hero so bad of a rumor?”. The thing where something lingers on your mind and you pick up on it minutes maybe hours later like the person next to you sat in the corner of your brain and watched it form. Jaya, your mother, your brother could never catch on. But Javi, fucking Javi, caught on every time. Thrived in your disorganization, familiar with your quirks. There’s no one else for me.

He chews, jaw tightening. He was chiseled by the gods, lord was it unfair to those who came after him. “Rumors are damaging in their own ways. I’d like to forget about Colombia but being called a hero at home keeps me stuck there. Stuck in all the things I didn’t do.” He shrugs, “Now I’m afraid of failing on the basis of expectations I haven’t even set myself.”

I want to know everything, you think, but not here.You didn’t know how to console him, any topic of his time at the DEA made him tense and timid. He would contort into a person unknown. All you can do is ask, “Does it get in the way of your self perception?”

His brows furrow, placing his corn on a paper plate. “Suppose so.” It is short, definitive, like he isn’t ready to elaborate. He reaches for a napkin and blots the corners of his mouth and then yours. Oh, how desperately you wanted to lean your forehead into his chest and stay there. Feel his palm cradle you. Is it so bad? “You?”

Lips pursed, you think for a moment, body facing him entirely. If it were any other day, if the wedding hadn’t happened, he would have had his hands on your knees. But his distance is respectful and he’s being awfully good. “Well the rumors about me arent very positive. Most people view me as some homewrecker that fled when it blew up in my face.”

“People know she lied.”

“I know. That’s why she moved two towns away. Still, narratives were made. That I have always been this side piece that you’ve kept burning for you for almost a decade. Even in high school.” You take a sip and suddenly, the drink isn’t so bad. You almost continue but a child screeches from a table away, his mother wiping his shirt of hot chocolate. “Just feels like I’m being punished for being in love.It was our business and I guess that’s why I don’t like coming here.” Most of it is true. The trauma that you have connected with this town isn’t just because your one true love failed here.

He nods, you can see that he’s taking it all in but tethering on the line of a question. “So why did you ask to come here… with me.” He doesn’t have to say it. You know what he means, why, why in your right mind would you willingly make such a public display despite the gut turning unease being in Laredo gives you. Your brows screw together because your reasoning feels silly, desperate–pathetic even. But Javier never judges you.

“Cus’ I don’t want to feel this way forever. I want to be able to feel at ease in my own home.” Glancing from his red shirt, up the column of his neck and to his eyes. No one has ever been so interested in what you had to say. “And because despite everything you make me feel secure. We could hate each other but if I was forced to face a fear it’s you that I would call first to encourage me.” It’s a confession in itself, it's saying, and I still love you. He knows it because his warm eyes soften in a way that you yearned to see again.

He clears his throat, choked up and he tries to hide it by looking at the string lights above. Attempting to seem interested in anything but you for a few moments, “You’re not alone in that… you know– in feeling that way. Everything that went down with Lorraine created a fear I didn’t know I had– its sadistic– selfish thinking but it was only you who I wanted to be consoled by.” There's pure reluctance in his voice, like he knows that this sounds crazy.

It’s not to you–you thought about it sometimes. I wished I was able to be your friend, be there for you, but I was far too in love just to watch it all happen.

You give him a nod and take another sip. It was warming you up but not in any significant way. The tone of it all took a turn. I guess we’re doing this here.

“Can I tell you something that bothered me.” A bit averse, afraid of sounding like some girl who wants to pick a fight with their ex. You just want answers. “It’s not like– it’s just something that I felt.”

Luckily, Javier knows you aren’t one of those girls. He nods with permission. Looking awfully southern, all he needed was a cowboy hat to tip and you’d be on your way. You exhale, bracing yourself because it was a long one. Probably something he’s never thought about. You start anyway. “In New Orleans we had like our first real fight. Do you remember?” He nods, not saying a word. Looking grumpy as ever, you were too tempted to kiss those pursed lips. Focus. “In the car we had unprotected sex.You came in me, you sort of– well not sort of– you cleaned me after. Then in the hotel room you sort of freaked out on me like I was just waiting to trap you. You told me I should have gotten off of you. It was only after I said I was on birth control that you told me that if I got pregnant that you’d stay but when you were faced with the tiniest chance you put me to blame. I guess it just made the Lorraine thing all the more– I don’t know-sad for me. Because you dropped everything. You never questioned her, but you did so to me. I guess in my own twisted head, hearing all these rumors about me I started to really feel like maybe I was just this place holder until she came home. I know it’s ridiculous. And stupid but I felt like the woman in the bell tower. I guess being alone makes you over analyze a lot of shit. Sorry, I’m being crazy.”

“You’re not being crazy.” It’s whispered and it’s fast, it nearly interrupts you. When you two are together it’s scarily easy to forget all that's around you. The passing glances, the whispers, the sleigh bells, babies crying and carnival buzzers. “I was afraid. I am afraid. I was afraid of altering our lives together because I know that if you got pregnant I would have paused my life for you–that you would have to put a pause on your own life. In my head we live our dreams and then we start our family. I was reckless with Lorraine because I knew no matter the outcome… me and her wouldn’t work. Oil and water. I wanted to do right by you. For a moment I realized I hadn’t really done right by myself. I would have saved myself and everyone around me a lifetime of pain if I just pried. But…”

“We can’t go back there.” You finish.

He shakes his head, distant. “Yeah.” He scratches his jaw. “I'd give anything to go back to seventeen and do it all over.”

Goosebumps rising on your collarbone you hug yourself and lean into the table. The sun was completely gone now, nothing to warm you than his hulking form next to you. Gaze fixating back on the only man you’ve ever loved. “What would you change?”

Javier can’t hide it, he’s like you. His lips twitch and his nostrils flare a bit. He doesn't need to answer, you know. He decides not to answer at all, eyes floating from your own to your neck and down to your shoulder. Clenching his jaw for a split second,he takes out a camera from his jacket pocket and places it on the table.

For a moment you think this is quite the awkward time for pictures but you soon realize this wasn’t that. He begins to remove his denim jacket. He doesn’t struggle, he places it over your shoulders. Warming you once more. Hands hovered and retreated. Like he was fighting the urge to pull you into him. Rub you warm and kiss your temple.

You smile to yourself and sling your arms where they belong. His oversized jacket dangling off your wrists and covering your hand. You were truly surrounded by him, the scent of him settling into you, overwhelming your senses and you get the incessant need to be in bed with him suddenly. Smirking you dig your denim paws into the pockets of his coat, digging for anything he didn't remove.

Jackpot.

You whip out his reds with a smile and he can only with with a sly smirk. You look up at him and wiggle your brows, placing the carton down in front of you. Raising your wrists and shaking the fabric away like you’re getting prepared to eat a mess meal. You pull your sleeves back and pull one lone cigarette out. Placing it between your lips, you stare at the wooden table- perfecting your smolder before looking up at Javi. Lips pursed in a frown, cigarette dangling off your lips, brows furrowed. “Smokin’ all alone querida?” You deepen your voice.

He bursts in a laugh, eyes closing and dimples deep. You don’t break character, flipping your hair out of your face. “Is that what I look like to you?”

Raising your pointer and middle finger in two form, you remove the cigarette from your lips. “Yes. Am I seducing you Andrea?” You ask, wiggling your brows once more.

He leans in close, so close his lips nearly press on the shell of your ear. “What does that say about me if you are?” He rasps, hand spanning against your stomach. Holding you in a way that’s far more suggestive than any grope.

Rolling your eyes, “You weren’t supposed to answer!”

He laughs at how flushed he can make you. How in the cold you look a million degrees warm, tips of your ears fiery. His hold on your stomach bringing you back to being under him, pressing, can you feel me here Andrea?

Straightening up and moving to grab the camera, he struggles to figure out how it works. “Pose for me, give me your Javi face or whatever.”

You grin, sitting up straight and posing. Drowning in his coat, doomed to smile with his cigarette between your lips. He whispers something about being so beautiful before the flash goes off. He smiles to himself, placing the camera back on the table.

“Alright, I know who’s operating that ferris wheel let’s go.”

Hands warmed by disposable cups of your spiked hot cocoa, you lived New York City winters but still the forty degree texas chill caused occasional teeth chatters. Staring up at the ferris wheel decked in Christmas lights you look over at him. Cheeks bitten by the wind, he was already looking over at you. Looking at you in his coat. You two had been playing a little game of 21 questions on line while it moved so so slowly.

“And you? What’s your biggest fear?” You ask finally. What a strange thing this was, learning more about the person you know best. His eyes narrow at you for a moment. Mustache and lips twitching into what seemed to be a ghost of a frown.

He makes this face and blows some low air like he’s about to say something so real yet slightly embarrassing. He clears his throat, “Becoming my mother.” He can’t look at you when he says it because he’s visibly cringing and quickly bringing his hard hot cocoa to his lips.

You blink hard at that. Blowing a raspberry with your lips. “Fuuuuuuuck” You say in an exhale. “I’ll drink to that.” You clink your drink with his while it was at his mouth, quickly taking a sip and catching him off guard. Laughing into his own drink it splashes in his face.

Covering your own mouth, nearly choking on your drink and snorting and giggling so loud the surrounding line stares the two of you down with judging eyes. Javier wipes his mustache that drips. Like always, the two of you laugh without regard of whos watching.

Javier eventually slips the operator a smile and four dollars and you are loading the rickety piece of metal. Securing the holster until it clicks. Giddy, you lean your head into his shoulder quickly—feeling a surge of happiness before straightening up.

“Happy?” Brow raised.

You shrug, “Just missed you is all.” The stomach pitting rocking began as your cart lifted higher and higher in the air. Donny Hathaway’s “This Christmas” bleeds out the ride's low quality speakers.

He hummed. Reaching an experimental hand out onto your lap, palm up. Lustful nights turned to innocent actions the next. Something in you heals. No cares, refusal to conform to what you should do according to everyone else. Run, two damaged goods are just as useless as one. You intertwine your hand with his. Pads of your fingertips pressed against his knuckles.

Christmases spent stressed, the ones she spent alone. You decide this once you won’t rip herself from this illusion. God, you hope it wasn’t an illusion.

He stares intently at where you connect. Those hands of his that have done wrong to many, still dwarfs yours.

“Andrea.” It’s featherlight. Not in need of a response. “Stay at my house. I don’t like the idea of you at that place— when your home is here—with us—with me and my dad.”

You think of your plan. You think of how lonely it felt to be stuck in an outdated inn, watching M*A*S*H with only the sound of your breathing and the running air conditioning. His house was your home.

“Alright. But I’m sleeping on the cot.” The uncomfortable little mattress that stood up at the basement of the Peña Ranch. Thrown on the floor with quilts whenever your brother would crash.

“I’ll sleep on the cot.”

“No that’s unfair it’s your bed.”

“You’re my guest.”

“I thought that it was my home? I’ll take the cot.” The ride jolts at the top of wheel. A view of the entire town, if you squint, you see the hills that lead to the rolling land where he lives. Homes glowing in various colors, the town that brings you pain, burns so beautifully for the two of you.

“Fine. You take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“I want you in the room with me.” You rush, burning bright at your display of desperation. Javier chuckled, squeezing your hand.

“I’ll leave when you fall asleep.”

“Or we can share the bed.” He suggests, slowly and mischievously, you both smirk at each other. Flashes of you pawing at his hair while he holds you still, making you feel all that you’ve missed. He gives a toothy grin, “Yeah… better not.”

#fic!rlw #javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

31 notes · View notes

cattimeswithjellie · 3 months

Text

Stream Recap, ZombieCleo, 6/09/24

((Since the first few of these I did seem to be going over well so far, I'm doing some more and we'll see how it goes. I am going to call them Recaps from now on though, because in almost every case I'm working off the VOD, pausing, going back to figure out who said and did what, etc. This Recap is from Cleo's Twitch VOD for Sunday, 6/09. I watched the stream live but parts of it were moving much too fast to note down accurately!))

0:00 Cleo goes live. She is on the Hermitcraft server, in the front yard of her base. She says hello to everyone, especially the weirdos in chat. She realizes the chat has been left in emote-only mode and turns them back on. She tells Chat she has just gone through her mail and there is a lot of it. She got two horn-of-the-month club deliveries at once, and she needs to meet with Joel about armor stand work. She has a sand and gravel coupon and a Mission Possible mission, so much to do!

1:40 Cleo goes into the house, warning Chat as she goes that she has “lored” in here. There are eight books she has written just for this room, all for the lore. She goes back outside and spots Cakebot on the roof, then laughs about how she always sees the bot and, thanks to the long distance and long nametag, thinks it’s Scar sneaking up on her.

2:40 Time to get started! Cleo shows off the Tower, which needs to be dug out into a tower base. They say they are actually working today which doesn’t happen often, especially this past week or two. Cleo has been too sick to reasonably work and so has been taking a sensible rest. A chatter asks if Cleo is going to die today. Cleo says they are feeling better, somewhat, and not going to die. The cats are fighting in the background.

4:20 A chatter asks why their message was deleted. Cleo tells them to read the rules. She greets Cam the mod.

5:30 A chatter engages Cleowo mode. Cleowo interacts with the chat and thanks subs. Today is the first day Cleo has been feeling well enough to go outside in awhile. She quotes The Little Mermaid as a prose poem. The Little Mermaid was the first movie Cleo got to watch in the cinema, and that’s how old she is. A chatter plays a spicy jelly bean. Cleo says they also moved into the new office, which is mostly clean and painted and pretty.

7:45 Cleo leaves to get tissues and wishes everyone a happy Pride. She needs birch wood for the build and goes to find it in the basement. Cleowo mode ends. She thanks subs and donos as she navigates through her base.

9:20 Back at the tower build, Cleo needs to figure out something to do with the roof. They contemplate maybe blocking it off entirely. Chat is trying to remember their first Disney movies. Cleo assures them that this is not a quiz and they don’t need to remember or share that information. ((For the record: the animated The Little Mermaid released in the UK in October 1990. This probably makes Cleo slightly younger than the livestreamer, whose first Disney theater experience was Who Framed Roger Rabbit.))

10:30 A chatter asks if this will be on the test next week. Cleo adopts an extremely ominous voice to reply that nothing will be on the test next week because “NEXT WEEK DOESN’T EXIST!… because it’s an abstract concept.” A chatter plays a cheerful musical sting that makes the whole thing sound like the last punchline in a sitcom.

10:40 A chatter says they will not disclose their first movie because they are too old. Cleo says they are not going to force anyone to disclose anything in chat, movie telling is not mandatory. Everyone is cool here, no narcs allowed in the chat. The mod reminds Chat not to get specific about ages. Cleo agrees and promises that one of these days she will remember to support the mods on that issue, but possibly not soon. Cleo lines up a zinger on herself, delivers it, says that was mean and blames chat for it.

12:00 Back to design talk. Chat continues talking about movies and theatrical productions. Cleo removes most of the mangrove from inside the tower in order to replace it with sandstone. She agrees that the Lion King musical is great and reminds Chat that she is very tired. Being sarcastic all the time can be a problem for her because people don’t always understand it and can become offended very quickly. Chat likes that Cleo is sarcastic. Cleo points out that the people who do get offended tend to leave and then badmouth her on the internet. Her first inclination is to ask them to come back, but then she realizes they would not do well in her chat anyway and so she doesn’t care very much.

15:00 Cleo tells a story of someone who didn’t understand their sarcasm, who got very offended when they said Cleo was wonderful and she replied “I know.” Chat is definitely on Cleo’s side for this one. A chatter says content creators don’t owe the attention of sub thanks to their audience, but Cleo believes that it is important to thank donos and subs, though sometimes she does miss things. She says she is known for being a screwup, even as she misjudges the blocks she is placing for her new wall. She sighs.

17:00 A chatter asks if Cleo is doing anything for Pride. They answer that they do not like in-person events because they are not good with large groups of people, but does participate in Pride things online. Being a member of the community, they feel, gives them a pass on having to do too much stuff. Cleo did enjoy MCC Pride. The tower area is clean now, but needs shaping and a couple of floors.

19:00 Cleo organizes her inventory for building. She has a lot of stuff she doesn’t want or need. She finds sixteen anvils and wonders sarcastically where those could have come from. She needs spruce but doesn’t think she has any. A chatter asks why she doesn’t use background music. Cleo explains that she has an Epidemic Music license for her main channel but not one for the VODs channel where this will be uploaded, and YouTube Music has neither sufficient music nor a good player. Other solutions for royalty-free music has gotten streams muted in the past because of YouTube’s overenthusiastic AI. They tell chat that if Chat has any good suggestions, they are listening. A chatter suggests using the Hotdogs on Your Face song exclusively, but Cleo jokingly claims not to have enough cards for that. Cleo has forgotten what they are doing.

23:50 Cleo thanks the subs. She remembers that she was putting in floors. A chatter plays the Hotdogs On Your Face song. Cleo is now hyperaware of the lack of background music. She says that she is not going to upload this VOD, so she will see about doing some Epidemic music. She asks chat for what genre they want. Suggestions include “Silence,” “Lofi,” “Elevator Muzak,” and “Jazzercise.” She chooses “beach destination chill.” A chatter plays “Hug a Creeper.” Cleo says they’ll get there. A chatter asks Cleo to give some building techniques. Cleo suggests making a build more interesting by starting with a basic structure and then adding purpose-based additions. That is the easiest advice they can give, they are all tapped out for building advice. The chatter admits they were hoping to get some building skill through osmosis. Cleo sadly informs them that she has tried the same thing many times by sitting next to other hermits, but it does not work.

26:30 Cleo goes back to assembling supplies. Pixlriffs raids into the stream. Cleo welcomes the raiders and tells them that in this stream they are being obnoxious and facetious and other ous words. A chatter comments “So a normal Cleo stream?” and they respond “No, this one’s got music in.” They try to build a staircase in the tower and decide a ladder is a much better choice for the space involved. Pix’s chat tell Cleo that Pix was playing Elden Ring, a game Cleo knows nothing about. She hopes they had a fun time.

28:00 Etho is mentioned in chat (due to the “Ladders” nickname and his love of ladders). Cleo tells the chat she didn’t know about the ladders thing for a long time after meeting Etho. She didn’t know Etho before Hermitcraft and thus is much less in awe of him than folks who literally grew up watching his videos. She is aggressively _not_ an Etho fangirl. A chatter says they heard he was washed up. Cleo laughs and jokes that he washes up for supper sometimes. Chat is very enthusiastic about Etho, trying to counter Cleo’s amused dismissiveness with a list of Etho accomplishments. This is difficult because Cleo is not an Etho viewer and does not do redstone and is thus unimpressed by the Etho Hopper Clock.

30:00 Cleo decides to create a secret room to avoid having to deal with the unusually-shaped space at the edge of her base, while simultaneously trying to convince Chat that Etho is Just Some Dude. Chat is having none of it. Chat is also very in favor of Etho and Cleo as a Life Series comedic duo. A chatter mentions that Impulse also has a common redstone device named after him, the sorting system. Cleo declares this fact “cool” and reiterates that the things they know about the Hermits could fill a very small book, or maybe a pamphlet.

32:00 Cleo thanks the donos and subs, and makes a few more Etho jokes. They work on coming up with a design for the entrance to the secret room. Chat is still in Etho-mode and suggests maybe Cleo is secretly obssessed with Etho. Cleo points out that they didn’t even bring Etho up, only responded to Chat bringing him up in the first place. She assures Chat her days of not taking Chat seriously are coming to a middle. She blames Chat fully for this.

35:00 Cleo mentions new TCG cards are coming. Two of Cleo’s cards are already done and they are very good! A chatter activates Hydration time and everyone has a drink. Another chatter asks why Etho fans are here and not on Etho’s stream. Cleo laughs and asks why Etho fans are so obsessed with her. A chatter activates Posture Check Time. Cleo’s TCG cards are always good because they choose amazing artists, but they will not say too much so as not to give anything away.

37:30 A chatter asks how Cleo is feeling after Doc’s pigicide. Cleo answers “Litigious.” The tower elevator is coming together and needs signage. A chatter asks what her favorite minigame is, besides Decked Out. Cleo points out that they do not play very many minigames so don’t really have a favorite. They put signs in the elevator shaft to hold back the water.

40:00 A chatter asks what kinds of builds and genres Cleo would like to try in the future. Cleo says she mostly just builds what she is feeling at the time and doesn’t care too much about overarching themes or what other people think about it. She begins filling the elevator with water source blocks. A chatter says the build reminds them of the Owl House. Cleo does not know what the Owl House is.

42:00 Xisuma joins the server, says hello via in-game chat, and asks what Cleo is up to. Cleo tells Xisuma she is finishing her builds before Thursday, then explains to Chat that Things are happening on Thursday. Xisuma asks Cleo if Thursday is a secret. Cleo is not sure but says the details are probably a secret. Chat suspects that it is either a court case or base tours. Xisuma asks if Cleo needs anything, but they reply they are nearly ready and just have to finish building.

44:20 A chatter say that it is not difficult to guess what is happening, Cleo invites them to actually guess, if it is so easy. She says no special guests and no court case is happening, just Hermits doing Hermit stuff. A chatter says Joe mentioned base tours after the Hermitcraft meeting. Another chatter guesses update day, but Cleo explains that only Xisuma cares about update day. Xisuma messages again to offer wood and Cleo asks for spruce for the floors.

46:30 Cleo finishes the elevator and jumps down for more supplies. A chatter plays the Feral Ghoul sound from Fallout and startles her. Cub logs onto the server and exchanges greetings.

47:30 Cleo says there are a lot of things that need to be figured out right now, like whether a particle effect from ender chests goes through slabs. They currently have a floor that seems to consist of dark gray wool, carpets, and ender chests. Cleo takes up some of the wool and carpet and begins placing slabs over the chests. The answer appears to be “kind of.” A few particles are making their way through the wood slabs. A chatter who is the maker of the Armor Poser mod proudly announces that the mod is ready for 1.21 and hopes Cleo is excited. Cleo congratulates them and endorses the mod to Chat but says she has no input on when the Hermitcraft server will actually update. Chat notices that Cleo has not confirmed or denied base tours as a possibility. Cleo says they can see why chat might think that and continues not to confirm or deny. Xisuma drops off some spruce and flies away like the Lumber Fairy. Cleo declares that X is the best and has forgotten again what she is doing. A chatter plays Sour Jellybean.

50:40 Cleo remembers it is time to Hug a Creeper. They set spawn and fly into the air, falling from a high place. They collect up their bits while gloating about being able to legally claim sour jellybeans as a business expense. Pearl signs on to the server

51:50 Cleo responds to a chat suggestion that trapdoors might let in more particles than slabs do. They make a bunch of spruce trapdoors from some of Xisuma’s logs and place some of them down, but it’s hard to see the particles in the current testing area. Cleo begins picking up the floor to move elsewhere and mentions receiving a troubling message from Pearl in the mail. She flies down to her mailbox and shows the large quantity of mail parcels she talked about at the beginning of the stream, including one that contains a single block of purpur and requests that Hermits buy more purpur from Pearl. Cleo confesses that she doesn’t like purpur at all but feels like she should maybe buy some from Pearl anyway as she clearly seems to be suffering. Chat somerwhat incoherently tries to inform Cleo that the parcel is from Joel, who lost a bet with Pearl and was forced to advertise the Purr-Purr shop and raise sales for Pearl. Cleo eventually parses what Chat is trying to say and is no longer concerned about Pearl’s message.

55:00 Cleo goes back to picking up the trial floor from the wizard tower. Pearl writes in the in-game chat that Chat has been losing her sales since 2024. Cleo tells her that purpur is gross, but because it is Pearl selling it, they will buy some. Cleo likes the look of spruce trapdoors over ender chests and decides to buy purpur in celebration. Chat asks what time it is for Pearl. Cleo believes it’s around 6am, Pearl-time. Pearl says she has a minigame to build. Cleo tries to convince her she does not have to build minigames at 6am.

57:10 Cleo arrives at the purr-purr bus and admires the new dumpster, saying it’s a good addition. She doesn’t really understand how Iskall can hate diorite so much when purpur exists and is a much better target. They shake their head over the prices in the shop but buy a bunch of chorus fruit to make end rods, plus some end stone. According to Cleo, buying purpur-adjacent things definitely counts as supporting the shop. Pearl is grateful. Cleo says that Pearl is undercharging and pays extra for all the chorus fruit. As Cleo flies away she notes that between herself and Cub, they have most of the server’s money right now.

59:30 A chatter asks what the bottom half of the vTuber looks like. Cleo adjusts their stream position to make the entire vTuber figure visible. Chat is impressed that Cleo has legs. FalseSymmetry, in stream chat, comments “omg legs (in caps)” to circumvent the stream rule against all-caps. Cleo shows off the limited set of movements available to the full-body figure, then puts the figure back in the usual place.

1:01:00 A chatter mentions that the vtuber figure can walk and can be used to replace the default character in certain games such as Valheim. Cleo confirms that it can be used for some games, like Valorant, and she could stomp around in there as Cleo if she wanted to. She cannot use the model on VR games because it is above the poly count. It’s primarily intended for vtubing. Using it for VR would be pretty rough on game performance.

1:02:15 Someone plays the Poe Poe Siren (Skizz singing the Poe Poe song) outside Cleo’s base. It is definitely Scar, who just signed onto the server. Cleo fetches their own horns and plays Skizz’s “Dang it, Scar!” horn, then yells for Scar to come back with a warrant. They go back inside just in time for Scar to play Xisuma’s “This is Illegal!” horn.

1:03:00 Cleo realizes that this is a war. She plays Etho’s “There was some kidnapping involved” horn.

Scar retaliates with his own “Trader Scar’s not going to eat you” horn.

Cleo plays Grian’s “I’m eating a curly-whirly right now” horn.

Scar plays Impulse’s “Say it and we’ll bleep it out” horn.

Cleo plays her own “Oh no-woh, not Joe-wo” horn.

Scar plays Ren’s “I’d like to see your butt, please” horn.

1:04:10 Cleo yells to Scar that she has run out of horns and demands to know where he is. Scar flies overhead and repeats the Ren horn, followed immediately by the Michael Scott “I declare Bankruptcy” horn. Cleo giggles and declares she needs to buy more horns, then remembers she has an ace in the hole. She heads for her mailbox, finds and plays the “I see you” horn from the Horn of the Month Club.

1:05:15 False logs into the server just long enough to play her own “OMG hiiiiii” horn, then logs out. Cleo play’s Gem’s “That’s Amazing!” horn. Th3Pooka raids into the stream.

1:05:45 Cleo thanks the raiders and welcomes subs. They have once again forgotten what they are doing. Chat reminds them that they are working on flooring.

1:07:00 Someone plays a horn from The Office outside. Cleo plays the “I see you” horn, explaining that even if she doesn’t see him, she has to play the horn. She returns to working on her floors. A chatter asks what program the vTuber model was made in. Cleo does not know but points the chatter to the link for the designer, MotherLyra. Zedaph suffocates in a wall.

1:08:20 Someone plays the MGM Lion horn, startling Cleo. They follow it up with a horn (maybe Etho or xB?) saying “I chop, I dig, your mom is really big.” Cleo plays the “Dang it, Scar” horn again. Someone plays Scar’s “Take a look at how big my booty is” horn. Cleo plays Tango’s “I see you” horn again and yells to Scar that she only has limited horns . Scar, who is stream-sniping, disclaims responsibility in in-game chat, even as someone plays Iskall’s “What are you doing?” horn. Cleo guesses it must be Cub. Cleo decides it’s either Scar or Cub, or both, or Pearl, or Tango, or Xisuma. Scar asks Cub in chat where the alien horn is.

1:09:50 Cleo attempts to go back to work, while admitting that they are not trying very hard to work. A chatter asks why Cleo has so many ender chests. Cleo says it is for the particle effects, then jokes it is because they have an addiction but most people don’t comment on it. In game chat, Cub tells Scar that the alien horn should be at the shop unless someone already bought it. Cleo wants to know more about the alien horn. Outside the window, Pearl plays Scar’s booty horn again and flies away. Cleo plays the “I see you” horn again. Zedaph suffocates in a wall again.

1:11:10 Cleo bemoans her own lack of horns, while Scar suggests that the alien horn has probably been sold. A chatter plays a scary noise, but Cleo is currently immune thanks to all the horn shenanigans. They go back to work, declaring loudly that they are feeling bullied, and it is because the hermits are bullying them. It’s not just one of those feelings, it is definitely bullying. Pearl assures Cleo in chat that it is only love. Cleo replies that one can bully with love, and invites Chat to “Ask me how I know.”

1:12:10 Cleo asks Cub if he’s done the Xisuma legs horn yet. Cub says not yet, but maybe for next batch. Cleo is pleased about that possibility. They want to hear the legs horn, because it is weird. False rejoins the server. Xisuma, who has been silent for a long while, asks what about his legs in game chat.

Cleo tells him they’re very pretty. Cub explains that Xisuma made a remark that tickled Cleo. X says thanks and that he never skips leg day. Cleo chuckles and mutters “nerd”

1:13:30 Cleo confesses proudly in game chat that they always skip leg day. Scar thinks someone got the alien horn from the shop and appears uncertain about what to do. A chatter plays Xisuma’s “Legs Legs Legs LEGS!” sound, which Cleo had forgotten was an available bits-reward sound on their channel. Scar plays the “Darth Vader Breathing” horn but Cleo is distracted. A chatter asks where the Legs soundbyte is from, and Cleo tells them it’s from MCC Pride where they were on a team together. Scar plays the Michael Scott “Inside Joke” horn. Cleo greets Scar and/or Pearl, possibly both or neither, whoever is out to get her, specifically.

1:15:15 Cleo talks about MCC Pride and hopes no one was expecting them to win. Scott has not officially told Cleo that they are being added to teams as a nerf, but that it’s just generally known. Cleo’s role in MCC is “ballast.” Scar asks Pearl if she bought the Alien horn, Pearl does not know what he is talking about. Someone plays the “Hello there!” horn. Cleo runs outside yelling “Oh my god, hiiii!” but no one is there. Cleo is disappointed, and asks that whoever is blowing horns at least say who they are. Chat believes it’s definitely Scar. Cleo plays the “Dang it Scar!” horn again.

1:16:45 Zedaph falls out of the world. Xisuma describes this as Zed doing Zed things. Cleo agrees and says that’s pretty much his job. A chatter asks Cleo what is their favorite “Cleo thing” to do. They say sleeping, mostly. A chatter asks if Cleo has any information on books or info about lgbtq+ issues. Cleo says not really, they don’t read up on it much, just experience it from their own perspective. They refer the chatter back to the chat for recommendations.

1:19:00 A chatter asks why the floor only has a certain number of ender chests under it. Cleo explains that it’s going to be a summoning circle, and the ender chests are in a circle under the floor to provide particles in that exact spot. A chatter asks about using a spore blossom for more effect, but Cleo explains the range is too wide. A chatter plays sour jellybean. Another chatter plays a door noise. Cleo turns the music back on. A chatter notes that Cleo now has a convenient crawlspace under the floor. Cleo agrees, but says they did not plan it that way, because planning is for losers. She parenthetically adds that she is a loser. Zedaph blames Tango for his untimely death in in-game chat. Cleo agrees that most things are Tango’s fault.

1:21:30 A chatter asks how people are playing noises and jellybeans, Cleo explains the Streamloots program. Another chatter admits that they have read a great deal of fiction and anecdotes about the lgbtq+ experience, but not much nonfiction and nothing to really recommend. Cleo agrees that this seems pretty common, and talks about how if mainstream sources won’t provide gayness, the community will make it for themselves. A chatter plays Favorite Things, and Cleo says mostly intangible things, like the way you feel in the morning when the sun is rising and you know people you hate are suffering. She says she doesn’t understand why people think she’s so sinister all the time. She also likes petrichor.

1:23:45 Cleo begins texturing the new floor with slightly lower trapdoors in places. They talk with Chat about queerness in history and how it is difficult to know exactly what it was like in the past because so many things were different. They reorganize their inventory again and go into the mines to find a box of crystals for decoration. Cleo is too tired for in-depth discussion on these serious topics and just needs to get some crystals. A chatter puts the chat into emote-only mode, Cleo refers to that as the “Cleo says stop” button.

1:28:00 Cleo finds the geode and begins harvesting crystals. They love amethyst noises, and wants to put amethyst under carpet someplace in the build. There are not as many crystals as Cleo was hoping for, and they take some time to free up more faces on the crystal-producing blocks. “Crystals are going to become important!” she teases. She agrees with chat that amethyst needs more block variations, since it is a far nicer color than purpur. The crystal noises are very soothing.

1:31:20 Cleo says that the most annoying thing you can call a geologist is a “crystal girlie.” Chat does not understand the term. A chatter says their geologist friend doesn’t like being called a rock-licker. Cleo says rock-licker is fine and if they don’t want to be called a rock-licker they should stop licking rocks. Cleo explains that a crystal girlie is someone who believes in crystals for healing and energy alignment, rather than studying them scientifically. Chat has a discussion about eating rocks. Cleo advises that many rocks are inert and can be licked, but that one should not lick rocks instead of taking medicine. Some rocks should not be licked at all. Cleo specially advises Chat not to eat uranium and suggests (then immediately unsuggests) that they look up radium girls. ((A sad story from history of some workers who became the reason for later regulations.))

1:36:00 Cleo transforms her crystals into “charged crystals” by renaming them on an anvil, then puts them in a similarly-transformed “Lead-lined Storage Crate.” The box goes into the new tower room for decoration. A chatter plays Teeny-tiny Zombie Cleo, Cleo sings the song. Cleo looks for one of the lore books in the library room that has information about crystals. They do not find it, but find a note about crystals in a cupboard. Pearl asks in chat for verdant froglights. Joe has been buying all Etho’s stock, but Cleo has some in storage. She invites Pearl over to get some. A chatter plays spicy jellybean.

1:41:10 Pearl arrives and yells hello. Cleo provides her with several stacks of verdant froglights, even though Pearl only truly needed four. Pearl is happy for the extra froglights because she likes the green tinged light. Cleo says green-tinge is the best tinge. Pearl says that pearlescent froglights are also pretty great. Cleo says they’re not her favorite. Pearl says she’ll let that slide because Cleo has been so generous and flies away. Cleo blesses Pearl’s little cotton socks and calls her adorable.

1:42:30 A chatter says that Pearl was their first introduction to Hermitcraft. Cleo says that is valid but also unusual, Pearl is not one of the more common vectors into Hermitcraft. A chatter plays Giant. The first chatter explains that they started watching in S8 with Pearl and Gem and their friends. Cleo is happy about how the community has grown. They also can’t wait for the new paintings. Cleo creates a painting to cover the secret door, but does not particularly like the only design that covers the space.

1:45:00 Cleo declares it’s time to clean up the roof, because it looks like arse. Pretty arse, but arse. They are not worried about structural integrity because magic, but some crossbeams would look nice. Cleo says that sometimes it is hard to explain their thought process while building because sometimes there is no thought, just building. They begin adding crossbeams to the interior roof and talking about building process or the lack thereof.

1:49:40 A chatter asks if Cleo has a favorite fan song. Cleo says no, they have not heard many and generally try to keep their research in a bubble. A chatter plays sour jellybean. Cleo says she will watch most Hermit stuff, but the fan stuff can be biting. She wants to keep just a little sliver of joy in her life. She goes on to clarify that “I’ve got two diamonds” and other songs written just for her are exceptions, but fan stuff can be mean in general and she avoids it. A chatter mentions that Doc talks about fanfiction on stream all the time. Cleo says Doc is insane. They don’t need to worry about what Doc is doing, because it is always THE WRONG THING. Chat is not happy about the idea of anyone being mean to Cleo. Cleo clarifies that in fan spaces, fans tend to assume she will not be there, and they tend to speak their minds bluntly. When they’re talking about the character, it’s just opinion, but when they talk about her as a person, it’s hard to deal with. Cleo does not fault the fans, it is a difference of perception between Cleo as the person and Cleo as the character. What they are doing is not harmful in itself, but Cleo seeing it is harmful because it makes her feel bad and she has learned to avoid it. At the same time, 99.9% of the fandom is lovely.

1:55:20 A chatter says their partner is trying to watch every hermit, but doing so during Decked out in S9 got pretty tiring. Cleo does not recommend trying to watch every Hermit because that is too much and too difficult. They realize that many people like other hermits more than they like them, and they’re okay with that. They will never be everyone’s favorite and that is fine. Pearl, in in-game chat, agrees that Hermitcraft is fantastic because of its wide variety of creator styles. Cleo has a hard time finding her saplings and wonders if they might be in the orphan-crushing machine. Chat is confused about the orphan-crushing machine, which appears to be a bonemeal farm. A chatter plays Hydration Time.

1:58:00 Cleo reiterates that they avoid fan spaces and explains that fans sometimes just say rude things on the internet. She can know that a take is bad (“Cleo doesn’t deserve to be on Hermitcraft’) but that doesn’t mean it won’t sting. Pearl chimes in with a story about a Tiktok she saw where all the comments were kind except the ones about her. Cleo is instantly sympathetic and assures Pearl she is wonderful while threatening the lives of the haters. Tango alerts the server to potential lag incoming. Cleo says she doesn’t mind living and letting live with people who are mean to her, but nobody can say bad things about Pearl. Pearl says that most of the community is wonderful and she’s just getting used to living with the bad part. Cleo asks for advice about how to do that, because she has been on Hermitcraft for nine seasons and it is still hard. Cleo talks about the fine line between not feeding the trolls and not clapping back when it would be better to do so. A chatter plays Favorite Things. Cleo says it’s the mail system, because they had nine messages today and it was cool.

2:03:00 Pearl messages that when she starts feeling bad about fan negativity, she reminds herself that she shouldn’t care about the opinion of anybody she wouldn’t be willing to take advice from. It is silly to let the words of the haters have any impact. Cleo agrees that this is valid. They would not listen to those people’s advice, and would also probably say something very nasty to them. A chatter plays gross jellybean, much to Cleo’s chagrin. A chatter plays Giant Zombie. The jellybean is bubblegum, but Cleo would’ve actually preferred the mouthwash alternative. Bubble gum is a bad flavor.

2:05:50 Cleo wonders sometimes if she goes a bit too far, and mentions she might have been a bit too enthusiastic in verbal sparring with Doc. They reiterate the information about their TCG cards and the new expansion. The crossbeams are almost finished, and Cleo adds some above the windows. A chatter says they would not want to make Cleo mad, and Cleo confesses their bark is much worse than their bite. She also does fake anger a lot, because it is funny. When Doc killed the pig, she did get a bit too into the bit, but it was okay in the end. Doc shouldn’t have killed the pig! It’s okay, Cleo says, because he’ll suffer. A chatter asks what an HHH stream is. Cleo explains it is Hermits Helping Hermits and they haven’t done one for awhile because they and Joe are both busy. Cleo thinks she may have frightened Doc just a little bit and laughs about it.

2:10:10 A chatter plays Cleowo. Cleo says she doesn’t think Doc’s scared of her, more that he felt sort of guilty when the pig thing turned out bigger than he intended it to be. A chatter suggests that Doc didn’t realize Cleo was serious when they said they were attached to the pig. Cleo agrees that’s exactly what happened. Cleo has finished one building and has another one started, but they need to decide what is going to go inside on each floor. She takes a tour through the building. A chat plays emote only mode.

2:13:20 Cleo says it’s about time to call it a stream. They switch to big Vtuber mode and thank the chat for subs and donos. They insist that nobody sends them anymore firstborn children because they already have too many of them. Cleo raids into a non-hermit friend and ends the stream.

#hermitcraft #stream recaps #zombiecleo #goodtimeswithscar #pearlescentmoon #falsesymmetry #tall claims court

46 notes · View notes

sidekick-hero · 4 months

Text

20 questions for writers

I was tagged by some amazing fellow writers, thank you so so much @puppy-steve, @corrodedbisexual, @steviewashere and @just-my-latest-hyperfixation 💜💜💜 (once again late to this because I'm still sick and feeling crummy)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 167, 83 of these in the Stranger Things Fandom (my current one).

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

593,064 (holy shit)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currently exclusively Stranger Things, the brainrot is still going strong.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Emotional Motion Sickness

You know I'm a show off (I would let you get some)

Louder

we tangle endlessly like lovers entwined

I’m tired of asking to settle the debt

5. Do you respond to comments?

I really, really try! I want to answer to all of them because every single comment means so much to me. But I'm also at around 500 unanswered notifs on AO3 (not all are comments, some are replies on my comments) and it may take a while to catch up 🫣

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ufff, pretty sure that's we pass the ghosts that haunt us later. The ending is ambiguous, but was angsty enough that @legitcookie demanded it to be fixed...

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

... which led to us co-writing the next part I wore his jacket for the longest time with a happy ending that to me at least feels like the most satisfying happy endings of all of my fics.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far I haven't, my experience with fandom has been entirely positive and wonderful 💜

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Juuuuup. Love it. I think most of my fics are rated explicit. I had a phase in which I mostly wrote pwps, trying my hand on more comedy and romance but I feel like writing smut might be my calling 😂

10. Do you write crossovers?

I wrote one, a crossover between Stranger Things and Fargo S5. It's a metaldeputy fic (Gator Tillman and Eddie Munson) called caught in the careless arms of lust again

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of at least.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, two have been translated to Russian.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! With @legitcookie and with @yournowheregirl, and it's amazing. I loved it and would definitely do it again.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I think steddie, it just really scratches an itch I didn't even know I had.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Uffff, good question. I would never say never tbh. And I don't have many WIPs. Maybe the Time Travel threesome fic (Eddie/Eddie/Steve) I started with Jen. Still loving the idea but not sure when I'll be able to get back to that.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Smut, I think? And a few people told me I'm good at vivid descriptions.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Long sentences. Dialogue. As stupid as it sounds, plot? Like, world building and coming up with a complex plot.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

So fucking hard.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Queer as Folk, wayyyy back in the day.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Oh man, that's a hard one, I love all of my fics. I think from my multi-chapter fics I have to say I wore his jacket for the longest time, especially because of how much I loved writing it but also because I love me a good character growth and second chances fic. And of my one-shots I have a soft spot for to the rhythm of eternity (my love letter to my favorite city) and Take your time (I wanna cross some lines) (a pwp I spend AGES on writing).

I have no idea who has been tagged already so if you've been tagged please forgive me and link me to your answers 💜

@runninriot, @hbyrde36, @acasualcrossfade, @judasofsuburbia, @pearynice,

@shares-a-vest

#steddie #my writing #tag game

19 notes · View notes

toji-sweetheart · 3 months

Text

my writing style

everything is under the cut! please read!!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ please remember that my writing does NOT make it okay to do it irl!! CONSENT IS KEY!!!! this is all for fictitious purposes and writing is my outlet!! some topics are triggering to some!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ all of the characters from the fandoms and reader are written to be over the age of 21, no matter the canon.

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I am the self-proclaimed queen of blurbs and sometimes longer posts that usually need a part two lmaooo

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I write a lot of smut, fluff, angst, and dark content, sometimes it's fluffy smut or just straight-up DC! I prefer to write smut with fluff thrown in there sometimes or just pure fluff! I will sometimes dabble in angst because I like to hurt my own feelings and this blog contains dark content!!!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ the start of my stories such as the tags and wc will all be in tiny font, but the actual story will be in regular size!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I do not and will never use y/n or any variation of that, 'you' will always be referred to by nick/pet names!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ there will be one-shots, drabbles, series, headcanons, etc featured!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ a lot of the time you and the character are either married or dating, that is my preference when writing, but sometimes I'll do one-night stands and such but I hardly ever add the preestablished relationship tag when introducing my stories!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ since I write mostly modern au's please note that the character's personality will most likely be different, but I do my best to keep it the same, minus MHA & TR they will always be written in canon verse unless specified in the tags!!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ PLEASE REMEMBER: I only write fem reader with a vagina and tits and the sexual reproductions with she/her pronouns!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ my readers will have different personalities in each fic, it varies from fic to fic and dick to dick, plus the au and other stuff. I can't write a totally blank reader but you can color it in if that makes sense? I NEVER describe anything physical besides the character grabbing a fistful of your hair.

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I ONLY write x reader or whatever you wanna call them and I never ever write character x character unless the reader is involved.

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I write the reader with a personality, background, family, friends, and stuff in life that made them who they are. If you don’t think that is a ‘real’ x reader, then please do not read my works!! I cannot write a reader with no story or emotions or feelings!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ in a lot of my stories there will be original characters I make up with that play as your family or friends, ex-boyfriends, etc which usually will be in the same story but I will use people in the anime/manga as well.

₊˚♡˚₊‧ the physical description is left out for the reader, minus the clothes and makeup, because I have ‘you’ wear certain styles of clothes/shoes/makeup/accessories/etc.

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I write second and third-person pov, along with omniscient pov!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I usually write about my favorite characters a lot!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ please remember that writing is just my hobby, I don’t get paid for this, so my work WILL have mistakes and not be perfect nor do I have a beta reader either, this is just something I do in my free time, but I have been writing stories and fanfiction for close to fifteen years!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I am not the best at characterization, but again since a lot of my works are modern au's they will be a bit OOC!!!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I tend to write the characters as love-sick and sweet, I'm married IRL and my husband treats me like a queen so it just bleeds into my writing!!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I mainly stick to alternate universes such as modern/college for all my fics, nothing wrong with canon but that shit is sad lmao.

₊˚♡˚₊‧ every single character in every fandom including you is depicted to be over the age of 21 no matter the canon along with the reader.

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE DARK CONTENT OR ANYTHING I WRITE. IT’S ALL FOR FICTITIOUS AND WRITING PURPOSES ONLY.

₊˚♡˚₊‧ please remember that my writing does NOT make it okay to do it IRL!! CONSENT IS KEY!! this is all for fictitious purposes and writing is my outlet and my way to deal with my own trauma which I do NOT have to explain to anyone.

₊˚♡˚₊‧ again I write for fun so please don’t use my works as advice/sex ed or anything really in general: again, it’s all written for fun and fictitious purposes; JUST READ/REBLOG/COMMENT AND ENJOY!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ I want to touch on more dark content so please ask me about that!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ please don't take sex advice from my fics, these are written for fictitious purposes and I know that cervix fucking would be painful and impossible but it's fiction and I love creampies so the sticky tip of a cock dumping hot and thick cum inside my cervix is what I will write!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ also, I do not have to prove my trauma or my knowledge of something to anyone, especially a stranger on the internet so yes I know that some of the things I write about are just out of this world, but that's the best part about writing fanfic...it's all fiction!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ type of readers/characters: pregnant! reader + brat + bimbo + soft and sweet and very feminine + subs + bimbos + himbos + sugar baby/daddy/mommy + whiny and pouty + milf/dilf + dom! character + not my favorite but will write femdom

₊˚♡˚₊‧other genres: dark content + horror + gore + angst is about cheating and drama and heartbreak primarily such as unrequited love like hanahaki disease or breaking up and such and sometimes maybe character death or something. - I am forever a sucker for those! cheating will usually happen to the reader by an OC I created on the spot or someone else in the anime/manga.

₊˚♡˚₊‧types of au's: canonverse (only for tokyo revengers and my hero academia) + modern (my ultimate fave to write for) + college (another fave of mine) + mafia + mermaid + alpha/omega + pornstar/sex work in general + friends with benefits + vampire + roommates + if you are ever unsure just send me an ask!

₊˚♡˚₊‧ any of these rules are subject to change at any given time and date - 06/29/2024

#how I write

3 notes · View notes

rose-of-the-grave · 1 year

Text

Six Pomegranate Seeds

Pairing: Elain x Azriel

Olympus AU

This is the final part of this 3 part fic. If you haven't read the other two parts then you can find them on the series masterlist. I'm the author (please don't repost) <3

Masterlist Series Masterlist Read on Ao3

Warnings: most characters are ooc and I tried to fit them into the story so the way that I've written some of these characters does not in any way reflect how I view them, some character relationships were also changed as well as the relationships between the gods, everyone appears the same age, pomegranate seeds with a drug like effect, non-con bonding into mates

Word Count: 1,064

Characters: Elain=Persephone, Azriel=Hades, Nesta= Demeter, Rhysand=Zeus, Feyre=Hera, Cassian=Helios, Lucien=Apollo, Morrigan=Aphrodite

Elain was distraught. That was plain to see. She had ran back to her room to gather her things while Azriel prepared for her departure. There wasn't much, mostly just the dress she had worn to the party which had already been ruined.

In the meanwhile Azriel had sent word to Cassian. He would lead provide an exit for Elain to take. Az had already decided to lend her his own chariot to take her back to Olympus. As long as there were shadows she would have a safe passage home.

He tried his best to not think about the kiss but his mind kept wandering to it. It felt as natural as breathing. Like a piece of his soul had returned home.

Lost in thought, he looked around. He loved this garden, it was a welcome change from his daily life but he had no talent for gardening. Elain did though. He had watched her, there had been a bittersweet edge to her smile but she was happy. This was a place that could remind her of home.

Thinking of the gold orb, he went to his study to retrieve it. It was now or never. He placed a finger in the locking mechanism of the orb and watched as it halted its movements. It opened to reveal a gift. A pomegranate that had been carefully preserved by magic. It was from the only place pomegranates could grow, Olympus.

They were considered forbidden fruit, Rhys had destroyed the tree because of its power. Funny considering the magic within its seeds were the reason he was so happily married. Eating a pomegranate given to you by someone would tie you to them.

This act was what tied gods together. It was the equivalent of soulmates. Rhys had outlawed it but apparently one had escaped.

Elain will be hungry, he thought. Most food here would leave her feeling sick or would be downright poisonous to her but this pomegranate wouldn't. She would need sustenance for the trip.

Picking off a few seeds, he placed them in a tiny, black container. The rest of the pomegranate went back in the orb which in turn went back in the drawer.

He walked out into the shadow realm, reappearing in front of his chariot. Elain was only just arriving. She wore a dress that was similar to the one she had had on when he found her. It was in a different style but it would pass muster. Clutched in her tight grip were the scraps of fabric that he assumed had been her previous dress.

Reaching out a hand, he helped her up. He placed a soft kiss on her hand before relinquishing it. Handing her the container, he said his final parting words.

"Here. It should be enough to ensure you don't get sick on the journey. I promise you, this is not going to hurt you. It's food from Olympus."

She took it. Her face a bit skeptical but he could see how hungry she was. As if on cue her stomach growled softly.

Giving his steeds the signal, they prepared to take off.

"Farewell, my little dove. Until we meet again."

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

Elain sat in the chariot as it soared out of the Underworld and into the sunlight. Her curiosity and hunger pushed her to open the container. Within were a handful of crimson seeds. Without a second thought she popped a few in her mouth.

The moment the seeds hit her tongue it felt as if the entire world was screaming for her to stop. But she couldn't. She felt compelled to eat the rest. She ate a few more before the container was yanked from her grasp.

Looking up, whining for more, she saw it in her mother's grasp.

In a daze, she didn't register what they were doing until she was before Rhysand. She watched in quiet desperation as he burned the rest to a crisp.

"How many did she eat?"

Everyone's eyes were on her as she held up six fingers.

In the distance she heard someone say that that meant six months a year. Someone else screamed, in rage and in pain. Her mother, she realized.

After that she didn't recall anything. She awoke in her own bed, sunlight streaming through the window. She was home.

For the next few months she spent her time tending to her garden, Nesta a watchful presence. It felt as if everyone was watching her, making sure she didn't run. Or maybe they were trying to make sure she wasn't taken in the night. It had was in end of summer when she found the first one.

A note on black paper written in a swirling script.

I look forward to our next meeting my little dove.

It wasn't signed but it was crystal clear who had sent it. In the weeks that followed she found many similar notes. Some complimented her work on a particular section of the garden. Others were small snippets of what he had done during the day.

You see, on that fateful day when they talked in that garden he omitted to tell her which garden his was tied to though he knew it well. This was the original garden. Elain's garden.

It was through this garden that they communicated. This little piece of Elain that had comforted him so for centuries. It felt like home to her now. She didn't know how she hadn't seen it. That garden had been a mirror image of her own.

As winter neared, anticipation coursed through her veins. This time, she was prepared. When he came on a cold autumn evening she was waiting for him.

There he appeared in a cloud of onyx smoke, smirking. A king ready to make her his queen. Others would have thought her crazy but he spoke to a small, hidden part of her. The part of her that was full of thorns and brambles that cut like knives. She covered them with ease, her flowers disguising them.

He was the god of the Underworld and she the goddess of spring. They shouldn't have ever met. He showed her things that she had never seen. He soothed the monster within. And she softened his hardened edges.

She smiled, eager to return to him. He held out a hand that she gladly accepted.

"Hello, my little dove."

#acomaf #acotar #acowar #acosf #acofas #rose of the grave #azriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acosf #azriel acotar #elain acotar #elriel #elriel fanfiction #olympus au

12 notes · View notes

lestappenforever · 1 year

Note

I love your fics! But how are you able to write that much? Genuinely wondering haha as you put out so much great stuff so regularly

Hello, sweet anon!

Thank you so much for your ask. I'm so happy you like my work. 🥹

Honestly, I've always been a quick writer, so when I'm feeling really inspired, it’s quite easy for me to write out a prompt, especially short drabbles. But then other times, I can stare at my screen for hours and only be able to come up with two sentences, if I come up with anything at all.

I've mentioned it before, but before I started writing "Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes)", I hadn’t written a single piece of fiction in 7 years. I started writing fanfiction at quite a young age, and was very active on McFly forums for quite a while. Then I joined Tumblr, where I spent most of my teen years and my early twenties, and wrote a lot of fiction during that time (mostly for a fandom I wasn’t even a part of myself, but it was what my followers requested and I was very eager to please). It got to the point where I was completely drained and the mere thought of writing fiction made me feel sick. I had no motivation whatsoever, and the only thing I managed to write was a few Cut & Run ficlets (the only thing I enjoyed writing during that time) before I stopped writing altogether.

I've watched F1 since 2004, but I never thought to write fanfiction about any of the drivers until Lestappen started having a chokehold on me when Charles made it into F1. I've been thinking about it for years, but I was worried it would drain me if I tried. But then, about a month ago, I had a long weekend at home alone and I decided to try writing Lestappen. And "Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes)" was born, which I finished in under 3 weeks.

I have never felt as inspired and motivated while writing as I have done since I first started writing Lestappen, and the inspiration and motivation hasn’t left me since finishing my first fic, which is why I've been able to complete the prompts as quickly as I have. It’s all about motivation and inspiration; if I have those, I can write incredibly fast. But if those two things aren't present, I can’t write anything at all.

It makes me so happy to read that you're enjoying my writing! Your ask has honestly made my week. ❤️

#Asks #Anon #Anon asks #Personal

11 notes · View notes

galacticwildfire · 10 months

Text

Fire Meet Gasoline | Poe Dameron

Eight

Poe Dameron x Solo Original Character

Hope Solo’s haunted by the night the temple burned. Having gone rogue she hunts the First Order in search of answers until a fateful encounter with Poe Dameron brings her back to the Resistance and Leia puts her daughter under his command to find Luke Skywalker.

Word count: 9k

Tags/warnings: slowburn is slowburning, flashbacks, string theory, attachment issues, teenage sapphic angst in flashback, punching senators and stealing ships, hux being a dramatic opportunist and exposing family secrets, solo's stalling horribly, cursing, panic attack/ptsd episode, mother-daughter cover ups, references to Freefall and Bloodline

All my stories are written for adults with adult themes, I use tags but read at your discretion.

A/N: the flashbacks included are from the prequel I've published on ao3 and wattpad. It's a work in progress but mostly complete.

Hope

Poe and I prepare ourselves in our EVA suits as we go over the plan one last time.

"I'm still a little mad I can't use my own one of these," I remark as he helps me seal the ill-fitting dome around my head, having to take one of the Resistance issue suits onboard instead of my custom one, but the visors in these unlike my own are tinted, rendering us both unrecognisable. The supposedly breathable ventilation garments underneath only providing so much comfort in the white bags we're wearing. "I'll need to get one with a tinted helmet to save wearing these damn things."

"If this becomes a regular thing I'll be getting one made as well," he says as I return the favour in sealing his suit, taking a look at his face before ensuring his own tinted helmet's sealed. At least that eliminates one problem.

I'd been prepared for a fight when I stepped on board, but he's surprised me. He really has.

"Hurtling ourselves through the vacuum of space? Let's hope so," I grin, a little too excited for that part of the plan.

And maybe I don't mind the fact it's with him. Especially after I'd remembered something, a conversation I'd overheard between Dad and Lando talking about Poe's father.

"It's gotta be twenty years since I've seen Kes, heard he cut everyone off after his wife died," Lando had said, the name Shara Bey having been familiar to me. "It's sick, spending years away from your kid fighting only to die like that after the war was finished."

"Yeah," Dad said heavily. "Leia wrote the condolence letter, messed her up for a while since Ben was only a few years younger than their son. I can tell you she was a hell of a lot more careful with her missions after that. It's a shame, Kes was one of my best men on Endor. In the twenty years I've only heard from him once and that was when his kid ran away from home," Dad paused, struggling to remember the details at the ancient age of sixty. "He was in a panic and reaching out to any contact he could think of, turns out the kid had gotten in with a group of smugglers, or spice runners, one of the two. Kes thought I could be some help."

Ben had been there, stuffing his face with food but listening enough to take a jab at Dad and his past that Ben had always seemed to be ashamed of. "Wonder why."

"Anyways," Dad said, hardly phased by Ben at that point. "I put Kes on the right track though it seems if the kid's in the Navy now. Shara was a hell of a pilot, saved Leia's life during Cinder, only right the boy would take after her."

I look at Poe a little differently having remembered that conversation, knowing that maybe Mom had her reasons for putting us together on this mission. That he isn't the squeaky clean golden boy I'd imagined him to be, but something deeper, more flawed.

Someone I could actually find common ground with.

"I don't suppose you've ever ejected in space before?" he asks, unaware of my revelation.

"Can't say I have but there's a first time for everything."

Even with the helmet obstructing his face I can feel his grin, wishing I could see it, but it's important that they're properly sealed upon takeoff since the alternative is suffocating in space.

"Alright princess let's go steal that yacht," he says as we head over to the ships but reminds me "This time-"

"No prisoners, threatening or interrogations I got it," I finish but have to ask "Can I at least punch that senator since he can't see my face?"

I'm suddenly glad I can't see his face as he exclaims "Solo-"

"He called the General a terrorist," I say, having remembered just where I'd seen the senator before and the grudge I'd almost forgotten.

His tune changes then. "Maybe, now let's get moving."

I grin to myself beneath the helmet and BB-8 and R2 stand between us and our ships, still reluctant to let us go without them. Poe bends down to BB-8's level and rubs his head as he protests.

"I'm going to be sitting in a Z-95 cockpit wearing an EVA suit," Poe tells his droid, speaking to him with a warmth that's unfortunately rare between an owner and their droid. "And you want to sit on my lap?" BB-8's not entirely opposed to the thought, sulking as a child would. Droids have their own personalities, but BB-8's is quite unusual, although I would assume it's manifested as a result of Poe treating him like a child, or a pet, instead of a thing made to serve organics and carry out complex tasks. That is certainly a quality I can't find fault with, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't endearing. "I'm going to come back. I always do."

I look at R2 now, who's somehow even more reluctant to leave me, he makes a sound that resembles a cry. The same sound he makes if I ever tell him to stay with the ship.

"I promise, I'm going to come right back to you," I tell R2 and rub his dome. "You're my best friend, you know I'd never leave you."

The thought of leaving R2 alone breaks my heart, he'd have Mom, but I can't make him suffer through losing me after Luke and Anakin. Thankfully he was never that attached to Ben, especially considering I had to stop R2 from stunning him once or twice.

R2's always had my safety at the forefront of his priorities, and I know it stems from being afraid to lose me like the others. "Don't worry R2, I promise that you'll be right there with me in spirit all the way."

Reluctantly I leave him, Poe having to physically nudge me alone towards the ships at the cry R2 makes. If it's true that owners impress upon their droids, I know he's taken on my fear of being abandoned.

"He'll be alright, they both will," Poe promises me, as an x-wing pilot he wouldn't be used to flying without his astromech either. "And we'll make it back to them."

It's then Mom emerges, coming to stand beside R2 and keeps a gentle hand to keep him in place as she bids us farewell, her voice is strong but I feel the nerves that leave her struggling to maintain her composure.

But as always, she does. "May the force be with you."

Those are words I haven't heard in a very long time, and finally I know I actually have something to return to. Which is why I can't fail.

The seven hours we wait for that damn yacht to come out of hyperspace gives me time to think. Too much time. Especially since we have to maintain complete radio silence for security measures.

But for once my thoughts aren't all bad.

I'd fully expected him to not even want to look at me, and yet I couldn't tear my eyes away from his. I can't remember the last time I'd had a conversation with someone without it resulting in a fight, especially not with someone who's sat and listened to me with the intent of understanding and not just correcting or trying to convince me to do something.

He had every reason to turn his back on me, but he hasn't and I can't help but be stunned even now. After all, I've been condemned as a Sith by people who've known me far longer for far less.

Those last days at the temple come to mind as they often do when I'm left alone in my own thoughts for too long, back when I'd grappled with the darkness almost as severely as Ben had.

I'd been reluctant to leave Mom after the scandal, but she encouraged me to finish my training. I devoted myself to it until the holonews broadcast of Mom's colleague being assassinated five feet away from her had sent me into a panic attack. I'd sought comfort, reassurance, to which Aylee had merely told me to distance myself from politics as Luke had despite the fact Mom could have just as easily been the one who was killed. It had been the most recent of her lectures regarding my emotions and attachments and frankly I couldn't listen to it for a moment longer.

Ben had even failed to reassure me when I'd gone running to him, his own anger towards Mom stronger than any concern for her wellbeing, and I'd found myself talking with Luke in the temple when he caught me trying to sneak back in. It was the last civil conversation we'd have with one another.

"Mom could have been assassinated," I stated and he lowered his eyes as I let it out. "Don't tell me my reaction is out of proportion or that I should just separate myself from politics because I won't!"

He raised his hands in his defence as he spoke slowly. "I wasn't going to, I was just going to ask how you are."

We'd been at odds with my anger towards him for leaving Mom to face the scandal alone, for forgiving Vader, for holding me back. It had consumed me to the point Ben had to intervene when I'd returned to the temple. Yet he still tried to extend a peace offering to me.

"Exhausted."

"Really? I hadn't noticed the way your brother has had you training from dawn until dusk every day like you're preparing for war," he remarked but realised with my silence there were things I hadn't told him. "Hope, this scandal and what's come of it is not an indicator of another war."

"But it is," I said and found my voice thin. "I've seen it Luke, in visions. I've seen myself shot and hiding behind cover with R2 my only chance of making it out alive from an enemy I couldn't see. I don't know what's coming, but I know something is."

He reached for my arm and inspected the minor burns from the training droids I'd rewired. "And so getting shot at is your solution?"

"I can't afford to get stunned, it knocks me out for too long when I could be training."

He nodded in fond amusement. "Has anyone ever told you patience is a virtue? Because I know your parents sure haven't."

I couldn't find it in myself to be angry with him considering how true it was. "You know patience isn't in my blood."

"It's not," he admitted. "And believe it or not it wasn't in mine either, but I had to learn it as part of the discipline it takes to become a Jedi."

"But I'm already a Jedi."

"You are a Jedi padawan, yes," he said, sitting down on one of the benches and inviting me to sit with him, and surprisingly enough I accepted. "But not yet a Jedi."

Despite our differences Luke was a good master, perhaps not the master for me, but he was my uncle and the counsel he gave me that night has stuck with me over the years. Even if I'd forgotten it the moment I'd returned to the room I shared with Aylee and found her waiting for me.

She had hardly been able to look at me after I'd become Ben's apprentice, but that was only one of the many things that drove a wall of beskar between us. I'd seen first hand the fall of the Jedi when I'd visited the temple on Coruscant, having pieced together that the complacency and arrogance of the council made them so blind they wouldn't be able to sense a Sith lord if he was standing right in front of him.

Which as it seems was the case after all.

But she believed that the fall of the order came solely as a result of the Jedi straying from the code, instead of seeing their fall as the complex cataclysm of war, ideology and failed leadership that it was. That blood is foremost on the hands of the Jedi council, the Sith could never have risen and orchestrated a massacre right in front of them if they weren't so blind.

But she never saw it that way, and I could only take so much of her righteous devotion despite Luke's advice to let us interpret the force and the code how we saw fit.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I shouldn't have been so insensitive."

"I'd use the word cold," I said and let free what I'd held back considering her promises to me before everything was exposed. The promise we would finally be together, before she decided it disagreed with the code she'd begun to follow. "It's all you've seemed to be since I've come back. You haven't looked at me the same and don't pretend it's just because you've gone and radicalised yourself with scriptures."

"Radicalised?" she repeated in disbelief before shaking her head. "I thought you'd be more cultured than to confuse devotion with radicalisation."

"I'm intelligent enough to see one leads to the other."

"Intelligent?" she scoffed "You're a lot of things Hope but intelligent isn't one of them." I huffed as she let her own grievances free. "You're arrogant and egotistical and impulsive and hotheaded and everything a Jedi shouldn't be, but you're the one who has an insane amount of power that should never have existed!"

"Oh bring it up with the force then!" I returned and couldn't help but laugh at how twisted everything had become. "It created me, it created the man I came from, so if my existence offends you bring it up with the thing that made me this way! You can't devote yourself to something and then criticise it, that's not what the scriptures say is it? No, they preach blind devotion and lack of free thinking, so if you're going to go and follow the old ways then do it properly. You might think I'm ignorant but at least I'm not blind!"

"Your existence does not offend me," she gritted out, her blue skin flushed purple with the heat that came to her face. "The way you've been acting has. Like you can come back and suddenly master the force in a fortnight whilst contributing nothing to the temple or its upkeep. At least your brother instructs the younglings when Master Luke allows it and does his best to help, you care nothing for the other students or the temple. In fact I don't think you care about anyone but yourself with how you've galavanted around the galaxy whilst I sat here sending transmission after transmission because you were missing and not returning anyone's calls after you got yourself expelled from university and-"

"I'm sorry, I was a little bit too busy finding out my grandfather was Darth Vader and getting shot at!" I yelled and that finally shut her up. "Something you've treated like it's been nothing-"

"Oh I know it hasn't been nothing because you are not the same person that left this temple," she said and finally confessed "We can all feel the shadow that follows you, it's suffocating me having to sleep in the same room as it."

"I'm sorry you're too weak to have to sense what I've lived with for years!" I yelled, my anger finally showing itself. "This hasn't just come out of nowhere Aylee, it's always been there! And I'm sorry I'm so suffocating to even be in the same room with so go kriff of with your scriptures and bullshit if you can't stand me!" She panicked as I raised my voice and reached for me in an attempt to calm me but I swatted her hands away. "No, you started this so you can finish it."

She swallowed hard as she looked at me. "I can feel the dark side in you Hope, we all can."

"Maybe I don't fear the dark side as you do," I finally said, having lived with it for so long and watched something akin to fear fill her eyes. "What is it your scriptures say? Fear leads to anger, anger to hate, and hate to-"

"To what you are," she finished, her voice wavering. "Or what I know you'll become if you continue down this path. Just because there is darkness in you does not mean you have to embrace it as Vader did. Although sometimes I look in your eye and wonder if it's too late for that."

I searched her eyes, my closest friend, someone who was more than that, and yet in that moment she felt like nothing to me. It was spite that drove me to kiss her, spite that was only further driven by the way she physically recoiled, something she'd never done before despite the isolated kisses we'd shared over the years.

And I knew there was no coming back as I looked her in the eye, because everything she said was true about the darkness that had found its way into my heart.

"You have no idea how dark it gets."

At the age of seventeen I was a tad melodramatic, perhaps I still am, but I wasn't wrong.

That wouldn't be our last fight, that came the day the temple burned, but it was the one that convinced me everything Ben had ever told me was true. I mourned her, but I don't know if I ever felt the same towards her after that fight. I'd decided in the aftermath I never wanted to let anyone that close again, never wanted to feel the cold touch of someone I'd relied on for warmth.

In fact it's ironic that that fight was the most passion she'd ever showed me. In her mind romantic feelings were acceptable, or at least until Luke granted her permission to the old order's surviving scriptures, and in her eyes anything that bordered on passion was dangerous.

Meanwhile when I think of Poe... it's a silly feeling, one I should be violently rejecting for my own sake if nothing else.

But...

I bang my head back against the seat as if that could somehow numb my thoughts, especially when I find myself playing with my hands, remembering his thumb moving against mine. If Poe Dameron is anything, he's one smooth bastard. Probably not the brightest if he's using those charms on me of all people, but admirably brave. He'll need to be to get through this mission.

And finally I feel it.

My engines are the first to ignite a split second before the Hevurion Grace comes out of hyperspace and I'm off. Poe follows only a moment after and as expected they broadcast their distress signal the second they get sight of us, and that's when I activate the control on the wristbrace of my suit, the timer being displayed out of the corner of my eye.

Eight minutes.

Without any hesitation I happily fire my concussion missiles into the yacht and Poe follows suit a second after. Defensive flares activate to cause the first missile to explode prematurely as they attempt an evasive manoeuvre, but they aren't fast enough as my second missile penetrates their shields and cuts power to the yacht while the impact of Poe's missiles ensure that whoever's inside is no doubt scared for their lives.

Poe's ship boosts forward as he activates his throttle, heading sharply for the yacht and I do the same, double checking my gear satchel is secure along with my sidearm as we prepare to eject.

"Fucking gloves," I mutter as I try to make the preparations and put the ship into autopilot with the damn oversized gloves of the EVA suit, confused for a moment when I don't hear R2 talking to me but remember he's not there.

Our ships align with the belly of the yacht, keeping an eye on the range finder as I fumble with the harness around my chest to release it, not having accounted for the difficulty of my own damn space suit. It seems Poe's in a similar dilemma as he hasn't ejected yet either and I'm slamming my fist down on the ejector plate as I reach the very limit of the acceptable range to eject and wrench the handle back as the ship's alarms scream at me, hearing the bolts on the canopy detonate the moment before I'm ejected.

I've made some emergency exists sure but never in the vacuum of space, so when I'm thrown into it I'm truly not sure what to expect, but flying through space with nothing holding me down is a feeling I don't think I'm going to forget any time soon. The momentum of the starfighter hurtles me towards the yacht, the optical illusion makes it appear as if it's the yacht hurtling towards me and not the other way around. So perhaps the sheer speed at which I'm about to hit the yacht occurs to me a little late and I'm cursing as I ignite the momentum thrusters on my suit and bring my hands up, the force counteracting with the laws of physics to enable to me collide with the hull at a thud instead of with a crushed spine.

In panic I look back to see Poe about to make contact and bring my hand up to slow his collision, he seems to momentarily panic at whatever sensation he's feeling before making contact just below me, far more softly than he would have otherwise.

Under any other circumstances I would have liked to take in the vastness of space but we don't have the time and so I reach for one of the handholds, pulling myself towards the access hatch with ease, utilising the force to manoeuvre myself without gravity far easier than Poe is below me. But this is why I was brought on this mission, to ensure if one of us doesn't make it on time the other does.

But more importantly, to make sure we both make it out alive.

He catches up as I reach the access port, being the one hanging off the edge of it he pulls the fusion torch from his belt to give me and comes to my side as I begin breaking the seals, a quick look at the timer out of the corner in my eye informs me we're down to six minutes and fifty seconds by the time I've popped the last seal and Poe reaches to try to help me pull the door open, only to struggle with no gravity to balance our own weightlessness against the physical force needed to open the door. Five seconds into wrestling with the hatch is enough for me and I swat his hand away to use the strength of the force to pull it open. Poe jolts as the edge of the door hits my hand and I slither my way inside, reaching out to pull him in with me before slamming the door shut behind us and hear him call out through the viser as he takes the fusion torch from my hand.

"I'll seal the door, you get to the cockpit!"

The timer's down to six minutes thirty five, the ship's gravity transmitters are offline along with everything else as I begin moving down the ladder while he reseals the door. Everything's pitch black except for the floodlight attached to my helmet illuminating my way down but I was trained to do far more dangerous things blind.

The moment I feel my feet touch the ground he's following me down, hearing voices in the hall I switch on the speakers in the helmet and pull my blaster free. This being the part I've been most excited for.

Just as his feet hit the ground gravity and other operations come back online, light illuminating the way into the hall and we both have our blasters extended as we find only three people huddling together. Seem's the senator can't afford any more than a pilot and a servant.

I go to step forward but Poe puts a hand out to keep me back as he takes the lead on this one.

"This ship is property of the Irving Boys," Poe announces, theirs and mine both it seems, the speakers of the suit distort his voice ensuring anonymity.

But I can't help but hear the senator's voice in my head and every accusation he's thrown against Mom and I as I tilt my head towards him.

"Do you know who I am!" the Senator splutters and I move forward, tearing off the damn oversized glove to grab him. "How dare-" he shuts up when I throw my fist into his face while Poe shoots at the deck, causing the pilot and the servant to scatter while I keep hold of the senator.

"Do you know how much ransom you'd be worth?" I ask the Senator before bringing my blaster up to his head, unable to help but put some fear into him after the bullshit he's spat as he chokes on the blood running into his mouth. "Or I could shut you up for good?"

"Now- now, let's not do anything too hasty!" he insists, holding up shaking hands as Poe aims his blaster at him for good measure. A little less righteous now he's having fun it seems. "I- I could-"

"I don't care," I say and shove him towards Poe as I remember the timer's still going down and we need to get out of here. "Throw him out the hatch."

'Wait- wait!" the Senator yells as Poe instead shoves him towards the escape pods where the rest of the undersized crew have gone and I run to the cockpit.

Five minutes thirty. This is good. This is good timing.

I'm ripping off the other glove to pull the preprogrammed data chip with the hyperspace co-ordinates out, along with dumping the rest of my own gear unceremoniously on the floor as Poe rushes back in, following suit in tugging off his gloves along with his helmet.

"They gone?"

"They're gone," he confirms, both of us sweaty from being trapped in those damn helmets for seven hours with our own body heat and recycled breath to keep us company. "How's it looking?"

"Good," I answer, although sparing no time in flicking controls as he goes to help get everything back online. "Just over five minutes on the timers and the engines should be back online within three minutes, the hyperdrive should be charged not long after. I'll get these booster cables fitted and bypass the motivator so the time to jump should be less than a minute once the engines are back online. We should have ninety seconds to spare before the Republic reach the system."

"Great, this is going good, great actually," he says to himself as much as me as I gather the parts and he calls out as I head for the door. "You know I didn't say you could hit him right?"

"You enjoyed it almost as much as I did," I shoot back and catch his grin before I run to the hyperdrive generator.

My movements are automatic as I attach the booster cables and make some not completely safe adjustments to bypass the motivator, but it should be good for two hyperspace jumps and we only have to make one. But with two minutes until the engines are even back online a wave of utter darkness washes over me and I run to one of the windows on the side of the ship only for my stomach to drop at the sight of two star destroyers.

The First Order.

"Solo!" Poe yells from the cockpit, still trying to get the engines online while alarms start to blare from the radar. "We have ships-"

"Star destroyers."

"Star destroyers?" He repeats and stammers "As in plural?"

"As in plural," I confirm as I manoeuvre the ship with what little propulsion it's still got so we're facing it head on, the sight only making the gravity of the situation hit harder. "Fuck."

"Fuck," he agrees, there's three minutes and twenty nine seconds on the timer, but the Republic's irrelevant now. What matters is how long until the engines and hyperdrive are online. "Looks like you were right."

"I really wish I wasn't," I say as I start fiddling with the controls and shake my head. "We've still got more than two minutes until the hyperdrive's charged and the engines aren't even online yet. Got any bright ideas?"

"Yeah, don't die," he answers, trying to bypass anything and everything to get those engines online as tie fighters descend from the destroyers but it's as I pull up it's identification everything changes.

"Wait-wait-"

"What?"

"It's the Finalizer," I realise and with that I'm slamming my hand down onto the console trying to send a transmission. "I can stall."

"How?" he exclaims, believing that destroying this ship and everything on it is their first priority, but if they know I'm onboard that changes everything.

"Jedi," I answer but he grabs my hand just before I can send it.

"They can't know it's us remember, complete deniability-"

"The Republic can't know it's us," I correct as the ties descend at an alarming speed.

"Really?" he exclaims, knowing this is the most explicit way I could possibly go against mission orders. "You're risking this on a technicality!"

"I'm sorry, what's worse? Getting blown up for nothing and failing the mission anyways or getting in a bit of trouble with the Republic for a hijacking!"

He looks at me in pure astonishment before making one last attempt at reasoning. "The General was very clear-"

"Oh shut up and let me talk my way out of this," I say and swat his hand away before sending the transmission, knowing my political value as a captive. "I'm too important for them to kill."

"Solo I swear-"

"Be a good flyboy and steer this while we wait for the hyperdrive to charge up huh?" I say, patting his offended face as we wait for them to accept it. "Let me take care of the First Order." He's stunned into silence as I take the data disk out of my pocket I'd intended to use to steal the data for myself and order him "Get the data and transfer it onto this, if this goes south get on an escape pod and get this to the Resistance. The First Order will want me more than that."

His face falls once he realises what my plan is but before he can object a transmission comes through "Heruvian Grace-"

"This is Hope Solo," I immediately spit out and a moment later the ties divert course, instead surrounding the ship instead of firing directly on it and Poe looks around in disbelief as I nod for him to go to the computers and get the data, very reluctantly he does as I order him.

"Hope Solo?" a surprised voice says and I immediately dislike it. "This is General Hux of the First Order. It is certainly a surprise to find a princess committing piracy."

"General Hux? I don't believe I've heard of you, and your intelligence must be pretty bad then, or you're out of the loop considering the twenty or so ties you sent after me last week," I say, knowing I can expose myself but not the Resistance. If I survive this I'll be the one dealing with the collateral in the senate regardless. "Hondo's gonna love this story. Two star destroyers just for me? I'm flattered."

Poe's face changes when he realises I'm throwing myself under the speeder to ensure this is seen as a rogue operation and there's a scoff on the other end. "The ego is a family trait I see."

So he does know Ben, and he knows exactly who he is.

"Pray tell, what the hell could be on this floating money pit that's so valuable?" I continue, stalling for time and very aware of the fact my brother's identity is unknown to most of high command, let alone a commander, and also the fact I have to ensure this is not mistaken as a Resistance operation. "I've been targeting it for weeks waiting to ambush and turn it into credits, but something tells me he must be a friend of yours."

"Really, General Organa didn't send you to hijack this ship?"

"Your intelligence is awfully terrible then after all if they can't tell you I haven't spoken to my mother in a year," I say, considering I'd returned to base only a week ago so I'm willing to bet their intelligence hasn't picked up on it. I look back at Poe and find him struggling with a firewall preventing him from accessing the data. He gives a grave shake of his head as we realise it will take the Resistance's own codebreakers to get into it, which means one of us escaping with the intelligence isn't an option. "And besides Hux, I'm sure you know by now that my style's rogue. I like to hunt your ships whilst lining my pockets, can't do that on my mother's orders can I?"

"I don't care whose orders you're operating on, yours or otherwise, because we both know that you have targeted this ship because you know precisely how valuable it is, whether it's Resistance's intelligence or your own. You know you are not running away this time."

"There is nothing onboard this ship that could be more valuable than I am alive," I state confidently. "And you won't be the one to issue the command, not when you know what Kylo Ren would do to you if you did. Men like you are willing to die for the cause, but are you willing to endure what people like us can do to people like you?" Poe's head turns slowly towards me and my voice shakes. "I demand to speak to him."

"You are in no position to demand anything-"

"Where is he!" My voice comes out as something unhinged, desperate, and I can almost feel Hux smiling at the plea in it.

"Our spy told you he was here didn't he? He doesn't stay in one place for too long, not when he's trying to hunt down Skywalker to finish what he failed to do that night. Although Skywalker isn't his first priority, you are."

Somehow all I can do is draw a shaky breath as a chill washes over me.

"It truly is a shame he isn't on board," Hux continues and I search through the force, but there's nothing, and cold tears come to my eyes. "He's been waiting for a long time to reunite with his apprentice."

I feel Poe's eyes on me but I don't dare bring myself to look at him, and when I speak the cockiness has disappeared from my voice.

"I can't imagine he'd be too pleased if you blew me up before then, or Snoke for that matter," I say, my strength slowly returning to me as I remember just what I am and the value I hold. "The heir of Vader's worth more to your leader than whatever's on this ship."

"Are you?" he questions. "Because Snoke already has one of you on a leash, he doesn't need two."

I can only pray those words go over Poe's head as I spit back "Don't be so sure about that."

"And what makes you so sure Ren wouldn't issue the command to kill you himself?" Hux continues and something wrenches in my chest. "He left you for dead after betraying Skywalker."

"No, he didn't," I hiss before I'm able to get a hold of myself and know Ben would be cursing me out for acting weak.

But he didn't leave me to die.

He was the one who saved me that night.

He was the one who pulled me out.

He was the one who- I find myself blinking now as flashes come back to me of Voe, of Tai, of Hennix. Standing there hurling blame as Ben put himself in front of me with Luke nowhere to be found. I can taste the blood and ash in my mouth even now.

"Then why did he run to Snoke?" Hux mocks, and I look at the diagnostics that tell me my stalling for all the hell it's brought me has just about worked.

"He'll kill you," I warn, feeling Poe's alarm blaringly loud. "He tried to kill Luke for far less, so what makes you think he'll spare you?"

"Kylo Ren is a mad dog on a leash, he doesn't bite unless he's ordered to," Hux says while my eyes continue to burn. "We both know he's no Vader, and neither are you, so you serve no value to me alive." It's then I anticipate it and activate the thrusters the moment before those ties get the order. "Fire."

Poe's the one who grabs the controls to take charge of the ship while I divert all power to the engines, shooting forward hard enough my hand slams against the console to steady myself.

"We have forty seconds until we can make the jump," I swallow, activating the automatic cannons as he dodges the assault of laser cannon fire from the ties expertly, banking hard to the point I have to grab the back of his chair to remain standing, but somehow I can't quite bring myself to appreciate his piloting skills at present when I'm looking back at two star destroyers.

But I feel it, the hesitation coming from that general. He wouldn't dare kill me without direct orders, no, if he wanted us dead we'd be dodging direct hits from two capital ships instead of tie-fighters.

"They want to capture us not kill us."

"The two dozen ties say otherwise!" he argues and I point towards the gas giants.

"To capture us they need to get us in range of their tractor beam, they've sent the ties to try to trap us. If they were going to kill us they'd be trying harder, trust me I'd know. Just head straight for those gas giants, the yachts small enough to slip between their magnetic fields without being crushed but the destroyer won't be able to get through."

With no other plan he does as I tell him and makes a sharp turn as I begin preparing to make the jump once the hyperdrive's charged. "How much longer?"

"Twenty," I answer, the destroyers closing in fast. "But we'll make it."

He nods, not wanting to doubt that, and puts all attention into outmanoeuvring the ties that try to block us from getting through the two gas giants but even this is getting too close to my liking with the speed at which the destroyers are gaining, along with their tractor beams.

And Ben isn't on either to stop it.

But as I look back at those damn ships I wonder if he would even stop it, or if he'd be the one ordering the capture.

"How close are they?" he asks and I choose to lie for the sake of morale.

"Far, far away- just keep going and don't look back."

"So we're fucked? Gotcha," he says, as he swerves again without warning and I have to grab his arm to keep from hitting the ground before finally forcing myself into the co-pilots seat and his voice is thick with sarcasm. "Look at that, a smart idea."

"I'm not used to being the one not flying and I stalled didn't I!"

"Yeah well I don't know about your theory that they aren't trying to kill us!" he yells just before a blast from one of the destroyers explodes in front of us and suddenly I'm doubting my theory as well. "Because sorry princess but I don't think Hux likes you."

"Yeah well if he kills me he's getting brutally tortured and murdered!" I grit out with full confidence in that theory.

"Won't matter if we're dead!" he yells but that's when diagnostics notifies us that the hyperdrive is finally charged and without hesitation I pull the lever to make the jump and we're hurtled into hyperspace.

Suddenly it's completely quiet in the cockpit without the birage of lasercannon fire and I hear my own breath, sharp and unsteady alongside his own. Once I process the fact we actually made it I fall back against the chair and realise my hands are shaking, but not from almost dying.

I inhale only to feel ash in my lungs and finally Poe's voice breaks through the silence, far gentler than it was a moment ago and heavy with concern. "Hope?"

All I can do is swallow hard as I force myself to my feet, gripping the back of the chair for dear life as I find my footing. "We made it, let's hope whatever's onboard's worth it."

I go to leave the cockpit until I feel his hand covering mine before I can let go of the chair, the pity in his eyes drives home just how much he'd heard. "We completed the mission, that's all that matters."

I give a stiff nod and slip my hand free from beneath his to make my way out towards the hyperdrive, so I have some excuse to be alone right now even though he doesn't ask for one.

"Fuck," I breathe as I bury my face in my hands, having slid down to the floor before even taking in where I've ended up. The only sounds I can hear are the ones echoing in my head. Screams and tears and accusations I can't put memories to.

My fingertips slip over my arm, as if I could feel the scar tissue beneath the ventilation garment. I remember that scar, remember the scream that was torn from me as Ben's saber made contact when I tried to get past him to Luke's collapsed hut.

Then the lightning hit.

I don't know how long I'm on the floor for, only snapped out of it when Poe enters and gently brings me to my feet without questions, without accusations, he just helps me up and tells me "We've landed."

I avoid looking at his face now that he knows what he does and by the time we reach the exit I've managed to compose myself, weakly removing his hold on me before we step out and when my eyes find Mom waiting I force I smile.

"What did I tell you?" I ask, raising my arms as I motion back towards the ship. "Never tell me the odds."

"We got your yacht," Poe says, deciding to go along with it since clearly neither of us like giving her a reason to worry, and notice him also trying to ease my own worry with the look of reassurance he gives me.

"Flyboys are all the same," Mom says shaking her head.

"Hey, some of us are flygirls too," Poe points out, and my smile is slightly more genuine.

"Oh I know," Mom assures us. "It's a rare pilot who engages two star destroyers and lives to tell the tale."

"Word travels fast," Poe remarks.

"Yes, it does," she says, although becomes slightly alarmed when she sees the damage to the ship and asks "What happened?"

"The First Order happened," he answers, both of us knowing there's no hiding that fact and I brace myself for the interrogation. "But we made it out, barely."

"I had the situation perfectly under control," I insist and his eyebrows shoot up. "And considering we're alive you can't argue with that."

He tsks as he tries to correct. "Actually, we're alive because of my piloting-"

"No, no, we're alive because of my plan," I correct back and he laughs, but it's not mocking.

"You did not have a plan."

"Yes I did, it's called improvisation," I say and he's grinning now as he shakes his head. "And it worked."

Mom looks between us in amusement but her face changes when her eyes land on me, studying my face for only a moment before reluctantly asking "Hope, what did you do?"

"I stalled for time until we were able to make the jump to hyperspace," I say as the droids come over and I make my attempt at an exit. "R2-"

I go to dash over to him but she raises a hand to keep me from my droid. "You stalled?"

I sigh and look back at her, deciding to defend my decision instead of asking for forgiveness for compromising our deniability. "They sent two star destroyers and dozens of ties, I contacted their command and exchanged insults with General Hux until the engines were back online and we made it out."

Her face is difficult to read and she turns to Poe who to my surprise backs me up, sacrificing pride to admit it was my plan that got us out. Although admittedly his piloting did help. "We would have been killed if she hadn't. She took the fall for it, made it seem like a rogue operation instead of Resistance. I don't know if he believed it but he doesn't seem to have anything to prove otherwise."

"And besides, they can't have their agents in the senate expose me without exposing themselves," I add on and motion towards the ship. "I'm sure there's some blackmail in there to keep them quiet."

I don't know what to expect as she looks between us and the ship until she puts a hand on my shoulder. "I taught you well it seems, and I am beyond relieved you both made it out in one piece."

But it's when she brings me into her arms she feels how my body still shakes and pulls back in concern, keeping her eyes on me as she says "Commander Dameron, you've done good work today. Rest and then get started on the after action reports. We'll debrief in the morning."

"Yes General," he says and I catch his concerned glance towards me before he and BB-8 leave the hangar. "See buddy, told you we'd make it back."

Mom's voice is quiet once he's gone and no one else is in earshot. "What happened?"

"I- I thought I'd found him Mom, I thought I was safe," I manage to get out. "The Finalizer- he should have been on board."

She blinks in confusion. "Why would you have thought he'd be onboard?"

It's then I realise my screw up.

"Hope," she says slowly. "What don't I know?"

My voice is weak. "Please don't be mad."

Her eyes widen but she gives a single nod and promises me "As long as you tell me the truth I won't be angry."

It's the greatest lie told by any parent but I go along with it.

"When we went to Batuu to get the ships a First Order spy tried to kill me," I spit out before I can decide to lie. "I grabbed him and started asking questions, Poe took over when I got carried away but he killed himself before we could stop him."

From the look in her eye it's blindingly clear Poe definitely mentioned nothing and she purses her mouth as she looks around and keeps her voice quiet. "What do you mean by carried away?"

"I shot him after he tried to shoot me," I say and she nods along, knowing I didn't break the laws of engagement if he shot first. "Then I got out my lightsaber and stuck my blaster in his wound when he wouldn't talk."

"Hope-"

"He tried to kill me to get a promotion, he was perfectly aware of what he was doing and showed no remorse for it," I insist, even she knows that I'm aware of the difference between those who work for the First Order willingly as opposed to those who were indoctrinated into it. "But what matters is that he told me that Kylo Ren is stationed onboard the Finalizer. Hux confirmed that he's usually onboard and that he'd be disappointed he missed a reunion with his apprentice."

Her concerns shift and she grows paler. "Poe heard this?"

I nod and advise her "Have the onboard recordings from the mission wiped before intelligence get's hold of them. Hux knows who Ben is and what happened that night, or at least parts of it." Mom's face is grave as she keeps a hold on my shoulder. "Poe knows I was Kylo Ren's apprentice, Hux didn't he didn't say who Kylo Ren was word for word but he said enough about already having one of the heirs of Vader and not needing another. The Commander doesn't have a great record of piecing things together but it would have been hard to miss that."

She nods in understanding and promises me "I'll take care of it, meanwhile take care of yourself and rest. We'll be transferring back to D'Qar in the morning."

She gives me one last concerned look over before leaving me in R2's hands and boarding the ship herself before anyone else can and I bend down to R2's height, resting my head on his dome to ground myself.

I don't know who in high command knows what, Admiral Ackbar is the only person I could imagine she'd trust enough to divulge the truth about what her son has become if he hadn't put it together first. I'd suspect others have their suspicions but wouldn't dare be brave enough to confront her when the official story is that he died in the fire.

After seeing what her paternity had cost her it was a sensible decision to have the galaxy believe Ben was dead. She could be forgiven for sharing blood with an evil man she had only met in imprisonment, but for a man she birthed and raised to become the same evil that Vader was after the accusations the senate had thrown at us... it would be the final nail in the coffin for all of us.

Even the Resistance itself would be fractured, none would doubt her loyalty to the cause but they would doubt if her duty as a general outweighed hers as a mother, they would doubt her competence and capabilities. Hell the senate accused her of being a spy for Vader, there's no theory to outlandish to be believed. After all, if she couldn't keep her own son from falling to the darkness then how could she possibly keep the galaxy from falling to it? It would be the Vader scandal all over again, but there wouldn't be any returning from it this time.

And me... I'd be damned to hell right beside my brother. At sixteen years old I was damned for being the granddaughter of a man I'd never known, being the apprentice of the new Vader is something I'd never be able to escape from.

Which is why my hands shake as I look towards the exit of the hanger that Poe left through.

Mom returns and I feel her hand on my shoulder as she reassures me "I'll deal with Poe and find out what he's put together. I trust him and his commitment to the cause, but also his personal loyalty to myself. If he has his suspicions he wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone."

I swallow hard and ask her "How much longer can we play this game Mom? People aren't blind." My voice wavers as I remember Boba Fett's words to me. "A temple is destroyed and a Skywalker dies just as a new Vader rises. History repeats and there's only so much longer we can control this before it blows up in our faces just like before."

"Your brother is yet to become a new Vader," she promises me. "Which means he isn't lost, not yet. We control this by keeping it quiet until we can find Luke and bring Ben back before greater harm is done."

"Those things aren't exclusive," I warn her, remembering what happened before the lightning struck and knowing Luke sure as hell can't bring him back. "The Resistance needs Ben more than Luke."

"You," she corrects gently. "You need him more than Luke, but what the Resistance needs is Luke Skywalker." I open my mouth but she shuts me down "But, we do need to bring Ben back before he does become what Vader did. He's the First Order's enforcer, but he's yet to commit the atrocities Vader did. As long as his identity is not known to the greater galaxy, he still has a way to come home."

"Hux said he's a mad dog on a leash," I say and her face hardens. "I told Hux what Ben would do to him if he killed me and he simply said that he wouldn't bite without being ordered to. He's a slave to Snoke Mom, I fucking warned him-"

She hushes me now, holding me by both arms as tears fill my eyes. "I know you did sweetheart, I know how hard you tried to bring him back from the brink after he discovered the truth. Luke told me what happened in the temple on Coruscant."

I still feel Ben's grip on my arm as he dragged me out the door of Dad's apartment on Theron having decided the only place we could find the truth of Anakin Skywalker would be on Coruscant.

Except I was the only one who saw the slaughter with my own eyes.

"I showed Ben the holorecording of Anakin kneeling before Palpatine and told him his hero became a slave," I tell Mom, the irony painful. "When he tried to justify Anakin's decision to turn against the Jedi and take Palpatine as his master I showed him the truth of it and he didn't listen. Now history's just repeated itself."

"You can't save someone from themself," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "It is a painful fact I have had to come to terms with. I have had to watch my husband, my brother, my son, and my daughter lose themselves and learn I only have so much power to bring them back."

A tear finally spills down my cheek. "I came back didn't I?"

She nods now and holds me tight while I bury my face in her shoulder to hide the other tears that threaten to spill after being without her for so long. "You have, because you made that decision yourself, just as Ben must." Her hand smoothes over the braided crown around my head, no doubt a horrible mess by now. "Just as I told you all those years ago, you have my strength and now you need to stay and fight instead of running when things don't go your way." I give a muffled sound of agreement and she promises me "I love you, and I am proud of the work you've done today. Now rest, and we'll debrief in the morning once you've composed yourself."

"I love you too Mom," I manage to get out but I don't let go yet, I can't, and she holds onto me until I can finally breathe steadily and I look up at that damn yacht and pray whatever's onboard is worth it.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x solo!oc #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x oc #sequel trilogy #poe dameron x original character #solo original character #skywalker original character #solo!oc #poe dameron x solo original character #star wars fanfiction #star wars original character #sequel trilogy fanfiction #poe dameron x f!oc #poe dameron x female original character

4 notes · View notes

yllem · 9 months

Text

My Grandma Died

I have avoided this post for a long time. Today is January 2nd, 2024. I haven't written in several months and this is a very hard post to make.

Mid October was one of the craziest weeks of my life. Let's start with Monday:

October 16th: I hear that the first client I ever signed is looking to get out of their contract. I win $170 in an NFL pick em's league. Low. High. I receive a call from Kelli, Bruce's girlfriend. This seemed weird. It was after 11pm in Ohio and she does not call me. I answer the phone expecting bad news. My dad had been in Ohio a lot in 2023 visiting his parents, mostly my grandpa who was not doing very well. I was prepared to hear the hard words from Kelli.

She says something like: "Melly, I don't know how else to say this, but I can imagine you know that I'm not calling with good news. Grandma had a stroke. She's in a coma and it's a matter of days. We can't get ahold of your dad." I shot up in bed. GRANDMA? I immediately call Laura who I know will be across the hall. She relays the message to which he responds "whaaaaaaat" three times. I forgot to mention the coma, but he goes to call Bruce. On the phone with Laura I hear him reenter the room, she is in the kitchen with mom, and say "yeah, my mom is going to die."

While all of this is going on, Bob is in the hospital. They think he may have cancer.

The rest of the week is sad. Dad does not give any updates to me, so I hear everything from Laura. There isn't much to say.

October 19th, 2023: Dad sends a text at 1:34pm letting us know grandma has passed away. It is all very surprising and fast. Mom calls me. She says it's the best ending for her. She was a worrier and didn't have to feel scared about dying. She didn't have to deal with the pain or suffering of sickness. Her ending, while surprising, was very peaceful.

I still feel the emptiness that she filled. The sadness is different than when grandpa had died last August.

October 21st: Mom and Laura leave for Ohio. Dad calls asking if Joe can stay with Belle. He's been attacked by two pitbulls on the run and needs to get stitches. Tim continues to be a pain in the ass about when we will leave together for Ohio (has flag football and softball on Monday nights). He eventually comes to his senses.

October 22nd: I am in Chicago because Joe and I have fall ball playoffs. Our team has a chance at the championship. We win game one and go on to the 3pm game. This team has only one loss: to us the weekend prior. During the second or third inning a girl on our team has her first seizure in the dugout. Her parents were not there. She had mentioned a strong headache and then that she couldn't see. She started a groaning cry before collapsing in Bob and Joe's arms who were steadying her. A mom on the other team is a nurse and times everything. She is a great help. The player is taken away by ambulance with her younger sister. She makes a full recovery. The team goes on to win, not by one like last weekend, but by 7. We lose in the championship on the 24th, but it was a great team to be a part of.

October 23rd: Tim and I go to Ohio and it is sad. It is sad to see my grandpa who spent more than 65 years loving her and all of her quirks. They spent every day together and I'm sure she filled much of his quiet days brought on by old age.

October 24th: Everyone worried about grandpa during the wake. The casket is closed because Grandpa says that's what she wanted. Mousey, Danny, Dee Dee, Mark, Grandma, Eileen, Tom, and Anita come. The funeral is sad as Bruce's friend Frank chokes up during the funeral. Dad, Tim, Taylor, Bruce, Chris, and Mack are pallbearers. Dad, Mom, Bruce, and Grandpa sit in the front. Dad chokes up after setting down the casket about how light it is. He tried hard to keep it together, but little things get that man.

The weather is beautiful. Despite it being end of October, the weather is near 80 degrees. There is lots of sunshine. She wouldn't have to be cold.

The luncheon is at Bennetts. Tim, Laura, and I grab hamburger wagon for the non-Ohio guests to try. We spend the day at a bar later with Kaley, Chris, Madison, and the girls. It felt like good bonding.

Ohio is a sad place to be these days. A reminder that, eventually, we all must go. I am not good with loss and it is sad to see my grandpa get older and older- something we did not witness with my other grandpa given his distance. It is still nice to visit the cousins. I will be sad to update this again, eventually.

1 note · View note

bonnissance · 6 years

Text

hey so guess who has a lot of feelings about Hecate and cottages and also baking? this gal, that’s who!

part one of cottage feelings, Hecate Hardbroom (eventual hicsqueak + Hecate & Ada feelings) an amount of words, teen, CW: bit of regret/anxiety for past life choices, not being keen on sweet food/eating heaps, nothing major (despite the fact that it’s literally just Hecate’s internal thinking about literally everything bc my Hecate is healing!Hecate)

~*~

Hecate has a cottage, a few hours flight from Cackle’s. Deep in the forest nearby a bubbling brook, a clear sky above a wilderness of gardens surrounding a home of oaken timbre and hardwood floors and a stonecast fireplace at the heart of it.

She doesn’t live there, not really, not with her heart and her mind at Cackle’s for so much of the year. But at the same time, she does: has a space all of her own where she can breathe and simply be, whenever she chooses.

She doesn’t visit on weekends, unless there’s some there she truly needs which simply cannot wait till the break between terms. Sometimes it's a spell book or a spare cauldron, or her second stash of anti-aching potions when her cycle is particularly fierce. Other times, it's just some peace and quiet which the ruckus of the castle cannot provide.

On those days, when things really become too much, she defers to Ada, who sends her to the respite of the cottage with barely a moment’s thought, only pausing to assure Hecate that she’ll keep an eye on her girls and there’s nothing to worry about until Hecate has her head together again.

She’s eternally grateful, for the way Ada seems not to need to poke and prod and pry. For the way she just understands whenever Hecate has something she can barely even communicate herself.

She doesn’t know what kind of a witch she would be if she hadn’t come to Cackle’s a decade and a half ago, and most days she doesn’t give it second thought. But on days like this, when she wrung out and tired and terrified, she can’t help wondering how her life would have turned out, if things had gone any other way.

Those thoughts never end well, full of more sorrow and anger and wretched worries that simply won’t leave her alone, and she knows this life is the best version of any she could have lived (except one, her traitorous mind always whispers, there could have been another. But whenever she entertains that thought, of what it might be like to rewrite three decades or more of her history, she always finds a way to ruin things anyway.)

This is simply how things are meant to be, she’s come to accept. And there are things she has now that she would never want to give up.

Her cottage, buried deep in the wilderness, is one of them. She loves having a home away from home.

Granted, she’s never been good at sitting idle. And she refuses to finish a term with unmarked paperwork. So she never has anything to bring with her, when she returns home with the beginning of break to leave Ada to enjoy the the solitude of her castle.

Once she’s spent the first night cleaning and fixing the interior of the house, so it’s back to being warm and bright and habitable again, and the next day working on the garden to get it back under control without quashing the wilderness that reins free when she’s not here to supervise and any other problems that might have developed in her absence, she does tend to get bored rather easily.

There’s always old spell books to revise, old texts to read over for new ideas to integrate into the coming curriculum. But she’s been over them so many times by now there’s never anything new, just things she hadn’t thought relevant before which the past term have made obvious might actually be a good idea. Her introductory texts get more and more use with each passing year, as the standards of the schools the girls attend before coming to Cackle’s fall lower and lower, and it’s up to her to fill in the gaps left over.

Because it’s her responsibility to train the girls to become the best witches they can possibly be.

Sometimes she thinks it’s a thankless task, but she’s never once wanted to give it up; never once wondered what it would be like to do anything else with her life but this. She really does love teaching, moulding young minds into something better and stronger and brilliant. So they leave the care of Cackle’s Castel with everything they need to become the best witches of their age.

The only problem is the students; they don’t seem to want to learn.

Not all of them, mind—some meld themselves to her methods and grow to shine. Esmerelda Hallow amount to the brightest of her students, though now that fire has flickered out.

Some of them try their best, and learn well, but never truly take to witchcraft the way she wants them too. Maud Spellbody is something like that—smart, clever, and Hecate knows she tries hard; but there’s something missing, that last flicker of drive to become truly brilliant not because it’s expected, of from afraid of failure, but because it’s truly wanted.

Maud doesn’t have that yet, though Hecate wonders if she might come to grow it, if only she could stay away from Mildred Hubble.

Mildred Hubble, who is, without question, the most troublesome witch the corridors of Cackle’s has ever seen. But even she isn’t blind to the effort the girl puts in, even though she’s constantly failing or getting it not quite right. But there’s only so much she can do for the girl, when she doesn’t listen to Hecate.

But she doesn’t come to cottage to spend her time thinking about the school and it’s students. She comes here to get away from them.

So the spellbooks are quickly set aside, leaving Hecate with a immaculate house draped in reds and purples, wood varnish and velvet trim, jars scattered over top-high shelves and flowers drying for hooks hanging down from the ceiling and a forever crackling fire that never ever burns too warm and only ever goes out when Hecate returns home, with a tamed wilderness of a garden outside her kitchen window which gives her a wonderful view of the woodland just beyond, where more creatures to chase that even Morgana could hope to catch, and nothing else to occupy her time.

It’s why she bakes.

She’s never been particularly fond of sweets. Never been fond of the way sugar rushing through her vines makes her feel flighty, twitchy, never quite settled. But she’s always loved the way a kitchen full of baked goods smells.

It reminds her of her mother, when she was small and could sit atop the countertop and watch her mother shuffle around the kitchen making magic they could eat—nothing at all like brewing a potion to cast a spell, but just the same. Exactly the same.

She’s always been gifted with brewing, balancing, blending components to make a greater whole with just a little of herself inside. It's why she excels at potions, why she's spent her life mastering the old ways: collecting and casting to conserve her energies, to balance the fundamental forces of nature against the power in her soul: a touch of this, a splash of that, a spark of her heart.

Baking is just the same.

(It’s called chemistry, she’s been told, in the non-witching world. Mildred mentioned it when she was flicking through a tome during detention one evening.

‘Mum says it’s just like cooking—mixing things to make a chemical reaction, except with food so you can eat it.’

Hecate was surprised the non-magical world was so sensible about the matter, with the way they degraded necessary tasks like cooking and cleaning. How they grouped types of kinds of skills and acted as if different meant lesser.)

But she still doesn’t really like eating sweets. Certainly not the quantities she bakes each day, in any case. But she knows Ada does, that her headmistress adores treating herself to sugary sweet foods throughout the day.

So she sends them over to Ada, alone in her castle; sends her something to brighten her day while she enjoys her huge stone castle, miles and miles away.

She knows Ada appreciates the gifts, just like she knows Ada enjoys sweets all the more when she can share them with others. So she invites Ada to visit, from time to time, to share the solitude of a different kind of peace and quiet. To give her something away from the castle, if only for an afternoon.

She always makes carrot cake when Ada comes to visit, so she can stomach eating a whole slice without making Ada seem rude for helping herself to a third when Hecate is still working on her first. She wants Ada to enjoy herself as much as she can, without remorse for Hecate’s own preferences.

She knows Pendall loves the chance to run through the woods with Morgana, and she takes that as further confirmation, that Ada isn’t just being polite, that she really does love Hecate’s company.

Besides, Ada shares her home with Hecate for nine months of the year, it’s only fitting that she should offer her house open to Ada, whenever she wants it, too.

#hecate hardbroom #i wrote a thing #part two is mostly written but it's been mostly written for ages and i'm sick of this one sitting in my drafts so it's getting posted now #the worst witch

46 notes · View notes

foodieforthoughts · 4 years

Text

Journey through time - Part 3

Summary: Your relationship with Syverson over the years.

Warning: a little bit of angst and a lot of fluff. If you blink you might also see some smut.

A/N: Continuation to Part 2 of the photo series. Here's a link to Part 1 too. Thank you all for reading. I love you guys 😘♥️

Staying alone in Sy's house gave you an opportunity to find out more about your man. You were cleaning his study when you found a box shoved at the very back of a drawer with pictures inside. The first picture was a black and white photo of young Sy, probably in his early twenties. It looked like a candid picture, clicked by someone who must have attentively watched him while he read through some papers. As you rummaged through the box, you found a couple more candid pictures and a hand written letter addressed to Sy.

The box also contained polaroid pictures of a much older Sy. You picked up the one which looked fairly recent, maybe from only a couple of years ago. He had his signature beard, dressed in his suit with his smoldering eyes staring back at you. Behind were the words, "I count myself as extremely fortunate to have accompanied you on your big night, my love." Signed only as "M". You got the sinking gut feeling that it was from an ex-girlfriend, but what affected you more was that Sy had kept her things still.

Opening the letter and finding another picture inside, you took a moment to look at your man. You had no clue who were those people with him in the picture which only made you realise how little you knew about Sy. The letter mentioned how the person felt like they weren't a part of Sy's life anymore. "I invested too many years to be with you and yet I am here, all alone. I can't take it anymore." It read, continuing to jot down ways in which the person felt lonely while Sy was away and that is why she was deciding to break off their relationship. Your hear sank as you read it over and over again, noting how the edges of the paper was crumbled from being opened too many times. Keeping the box back in its place, you couldn't help but think back on everything that was mentioned as the silence in the big house seemed to envelope you.

You stared at your computer screen showing that you were online, waiting for the green dot to appear on Sy's image signifying that he was online on Skype too. It was your birthday tonight and before leaving, Sy had promised he would have long distance birthday dinner with you over video call. You had cooked his favorite recipe of Sloppy Joe's and got his favorite beer brand, even if you hated the taste of it. Your wait for a few minutes turned to hours with your food gone cold and beer turned warm. You looked at the screen, noting that it was past midnight now and your birthday was over. You couldn't help but cry when you shut down your computer, leaving your food on the table untouched and crawling into bed while thinking back on the letter and imagining if this is exactly how the other girl might have felt.

You sucked in a deep breath before receiving the video call from Sy. It was unexpected and unplanned, but it made your heart swell when his face appeared on the screen. Sy did not smile, he looked lost and deep in thought. Even with the awful quality of the call, you noticed the new scars on his face and how he looked like he had aged over a decade. Your talks were formal, mostly asking about how the other had been, general talk about health and wellbeing. But then you couldn't help but blurt out, "You missed my birthday." Sy sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, "I'm sorry but I had a rough week." You wanted to be understanding but the letter kept repeating its words in your mind and when you looked around, you only saw the emptiness. "But you had promised about dinner on my birthday." In an instant, Sy's voice came out like rumbling thunder. "If you want someone to be at your beck and call, maybe you should think what the hell are you doing with me. I can't be there all the time, I have a job to do here." His roaring voice came out loud from your speakers, bringing tears in your eyes. Anger and sadness mixed together and with a trembling voice, you said, "Maybe I really should think what I'm doing with you. Goodbye, Sy." You disconnected the call with painful heaviness in your heart.

Over the next weeks, you got several calls from Sy but you only spoke to him asking him about his health. The moment he would try to talk about what happened over the video call, you would change the subject. Then one day you got a video message sent to you by Sy. It was being filmed by someone else while Sy stood with a spray painted green German Shepherd. You watched as Sy instructed the dog called "Aika" to fetch a writing pad with papers stuck to it from the steps of the building and turn it around to face the camera. Sy crouched down next to Aika and the first paper read, "I'm very sorry about missing your birthday." He turned the sheet of paper over and the next one had "I'm sorry about acting like a dick the other night." When he turned the paper again, it read in bold letters, "I love you and I don't want to lose you." You felt the stinging feel of tears in your eyes as Sy came forward and spoke directly into the camera, "Dinner with me tonight? I'll make up for everything, I promise." Before the video cut, you heard men laughing in the background with someone shouting, "Captain's so whipped!" and imitating the sound of a whip slashing through the air.

That night, dinner was less about eating and more about sharing your feelings. Sy listened to how you felt about him missing your birthday, apologising profusely about it and telling you he'll make up for it when he gets back. But you felt like a bitch when he told you about his week and how he had lost two of his men during an attack on them. It was now your turn to apologize with tears in your eyes as you imagined losing Sy. You didn't want to ruin the mood but you had to ask about the box. "Who's M, Sy?" You watched as his expression had turned solemn and he had sighed heavily. "I take that you found the box? She was my girlfriend before you. We had been together since college and I won't lie, I really wanted to marry her. But, I couldn't give her the kind of life she wanted." You could hear the sadness in his voice while he spoke. "Do you still love her?" he answered in an instant, "Of course not! I love you, babe. I want no one but you. You can even throw away the box if you want, I just never got back to it and throw it away myself." He then proceeded to tell you he wanted to make you feel his love and explained what he had planned, which made you blush but reluctantly you obliged. Even with the distance of many, many miles between the two of you, you pleasured one another over the call while repeatedly professing how much you loved each other.

You had bounced on your feet nervously while watching the arriving flights displayed on the screen. Sy was coming home and your excitement knew no bounds. His tour had been extended by four more weeks which meant you hadn't seen him in person for almost half a year. But family came first so when he had asked if he could go directly to Austin to meet his folks, you hadn't objected. "What's one more week until I meet you?" You had joked although deep down you craved to be in his arms again. When newly arrived passengers started filing out through the doors, your heart drummed in your chest with anticipation. You nearly skipped a beat when Sy walked out the door with his bags, thinking about the time when many months ago you had bumped into him at this very airport, searching through the crowd for you. His bearded face broke out into a huge smile when he spotted you and you almost made a run for him, launching yourself into his arms while planting kisses all over his face. "God, I missed you so much." He said, hugging you tightly to his chest and not letting go of you for a long time.

The very next day, Sy had taken you out for dinner at the most fancy restaurant in town. You noticed how he was fidgety and nervous, looking at his watch several times. It worried you even more when for the third time that night, he excused himself and left the table. You wondered if he was sick but then were left confused when all of a sudden the speakers started playing the familiar tune of your favorite romantic song. You looked around puzzled but was taken by surprise when Sy walked to you and dropped down on one knee. With a tender smile on his lips he said, "I never knew what I really wanted from my life until I met you. Countless times I have prayed to the heavens for making you bump into me on that day. I was at the right place at the right time, for I met the most amazing and beautiful woman on this planet." You felt you heart pick up a pace knowing exactly what Sy was going to do. Fishing out a blue velvet box from his pocket and opening it to reveal a magnificent diamond ring, Sy continued, "Darlin' will you marry me and make me the luckiest man alive?" There was no hesitation in your voice when you nodded fervently and repeated "yes" several times, hugging and kissing Sy before he placed the ring on your finger while everyone around clapped for the two of you.

Continued to Part 4

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson x you #captain syverson angst #captain syverson fluff #henry cavill fanfic

314 notes · View notes

monstersarebeautifultoo · 2 years

Text

Hello, hello!

Hi! I'm Monstersarebeautifultoo, and I want to tell you a little about my page, and me. I am trans masc, pansexual, polyamorous, switch/verse writer, I have been writing since I was twelve, and am currently 22. I use he/they pronouns, you use anything else when referring to me and I WILL block you. I don't plan on giving you my name, mostly because I struggle with anxiety and really don't want my family members to find the things I write.

I will vary between writing fluff and comfort, to angst, to very, very kinky and NSFW stories. It all depends on the mood and whether or not my writers' block is gone.

Like other NSFW accounts on this site, minors, please don't interact with my works, including the softer ones, to ensure that my account is not taken down. Again, MINORS DNI with any of my posts.

I do take requests and do plan to create a Patreon soon (which I will most likely post about when it's up). But, I do have things I will or won't write.

Will Write:

Any genre honestly

Character x Character

Character x Reader

True BDSM (not that awful shit on p*rnhub, or that you've read that's written by someone that has done no research or has no experience).

Bondage

Spanking

Hair Pulling

BJ's

HJ's

Mutual Masturbation

Toy Usage

Temp Play

Pet Play

Power Play

Macro/Micro (size difference).

Threesomes

Foursomes

Orgies

Polyamorous Couples/ Polycules

Prior Consent

Somnophilia (only with prior consent from the one asleep).

Monster Fucking/Romance

Won't Write:

Rape

Molestation

Piss

Scat

Vomit (unless it is a fluff story and one of the characters is sick and being taken care of.)

Age Play

Masterlist:

Of Scales and Skin: {Part One (SFW)} {Part Two (SFW)} {Part Three (SFW)}

6 notes · View notes

thegoldielocks28 · 3 years

Note

45. "Do I even wanna know?" for Tala and Mathilda (because I'm interested in seeing your version of their friendship when she's with or moving towards being with Spencer) Or if that line doesn't work, either of the others will do as long as it has those two :)

Title: Do I even want to know? Pairing: Sergei Petrov and Mathilda Alster romantically, Yuriy Ivanov and Mathilda Alster platonically. Notice: Written from Yuriy´s point of view. Mostly. Also, I haven't yet read the new manga so some of my headcanons for him might be off, aged or not canon. Also, I kept writing and adding to this for ages, and feel it's a bit of a mess. Hopefully, it shows some emotion that I meant for it to show. Not sure if I will post this anywhere else hm...

Yuriy has mastered the art of ignoring others' eyes on him. Easily walking by as if he's clueless of their attention on him. Even if the fact that they were staring was something he noticed before the person themselves knew their eyes were trailing him.

Observant as he is.

During Yuriy´s early childhood, he’d get looks of hatred and disgust as he lived, or barely survived, in the streets. Wearing old and tattered clothes, pale skin almost grey because of malnutrition, and blue eyes desperately searching for help as passerbys continued to choose not to see him. At times, the hatred in strangers´ eyes was better than being ignored. When they pretended not to see the misery Yuriy was in he ended up feeling like he was already dead.

Soon, Yuriy learned of another kind of fear. The fear that came from those who were threatened by his skill in the bey dish, fear because of the harsh fates waiting for them if they lost to him in the days of the Abbey. Once that first child lost terribly to Yuriy, and was never seen again, his peers started to respect him. Respect born from fear.

As Yuriy and his brothers were manipulated and tricked to threaten the safety of the world, he was looked on as both a hero and a monster. A hero who´d give Russia the top spot in Beyblade again.And as something a little less than human, perhaps closer to a cyborg, leading the world towards its demise while being seemingly void of much emotion. Perhaps only rivaled by how power hungry Kai had gotten together with Black Dranzer. Or even by Boris after that match against Rei. Boris had been Balkov´s triumph card. The man is still recovering from the lack of love he got from a young age, and to learn to handle his growing emotions just as his rage.

Today the world knows how all of it ended, and who to thank for their safety and freedom: the Bladebreakers.

After the Demolition Boys´ loss, people started to look at them with yet a new set of eyes. The eyes of those who viewed them as victims of manipulation, of harsh childhoods. Often with pity. It never suited Yuriy. Being a victim. Rather, he aimed for them to be seen as young, free and brave men redeeming themselves and growing into something better. Growing into the people they want to be now when they have a real shot at it.

Survivors.

Today, Yuriy is well trained in observing strangers and deciding whether or not they´re sincere when approaching his team. If they truly want to get to know them, or if they want something from them. Regretfully the Russians often decide it's safer to assume people are out to hurt them than blindly letting strangers into their lives.

It´s a snowy and cold day in Moscow, Russia. The air is crisp, cold and dry. Chilling to the bone. A good winter's day, with a clear blue sky telling of an even colder night ahead. Probably with stars. The streets are busy with people. Families, couples, children playing around. At a corner of a smaller street a coffee shop recently opened, carrying a foreign brand of coffee to Russia.

To the untrained eye Yuriy´s pale face appears indifferent as he thanks the young woman accompanying him for holding the door open. He's carrying some of the things they bought today. Books. Clothes. Some new toys for his pet dog. However, even if he might look like he'd rather be somewhere else, his eyes tell of a new kind of warmth as he looks at his female companion. An attentiveness few earn from him.

Yuriy´s presence has stirred people to life it seems. Staff greets him with almost spooked expressions and “Hi!”s. They must be newly hired, since the shop has just been around for a few weeks. It instantly sours his mood, as he much prefers workers to treat him like any other customer. From that point Yuriy makes sure it seems like he pays little attention to the people around them, but only after he shows his appreciation with a slight nod of his head. There´s this middle ground he has found as of late. Looking strangers in the eye as they gawk at him while fighting nerves. Some are his fans, and they pay a bit of his paycheck through watching his matches. Supporting him and his family. No matter how Yuriy looks at it, his fans matter, they all do in beyblading. Not all of them are stalkers, or want to hurt him or those closest to him. Even if it is hard to remember that sometimes.

The woman with him takes the lead to a small two-seater table at the back corner of the shop. Fairly isolated, yet with a view towards the street outside. She's always considerate like that. Sitting down with his back against the wall and a good view over the coffee shop, Yuriy´s eyes settle at the woman in front of him. The scent of sweet fruits washes over him. Nothing too overpowering. She takes off her coat, observant eyes darting around the place as she too notices the eyes on them. Unlike Yuriy, she can’t hide her discomfort. Yuriy has already deemed the room safe. The usual quick sweep of the eyes he does every time he arrives somewhere, especially somewhere new. Checking where the exits are, if there’s anyone suspicious around. Old habits are hard to break, and this one he won't try to: it has saved him before. Yuriy lets out a soft sigh as he allows himself to relax in his chair. Body grows heavier as he sinks into his seat. Knees falling apart ever so slightly. The only threat in this room seems to be awed struck fans, and those he can handle. At least well enough to make his friend enjoy their short coffee break.

Although Yuriy appears relaxed, his body language erects a barrier between his safe bubble with his friend and the people around them. Nothing about Yuriy is inviting. He leaves no room for strangers to think it's suitable for a quick chat or to ask about a signature: his focus is on his company. The girl in front of him tries to hide the fact that the attention from strangers gets to her, and Yuriy can´t help but imagine what the fans around them think as they see how she squirms in her seat. How they draw the wrong conclusions. The Russian offers her a hint of a smile in an attempt at making her feel more comfortable. If her attention is on him, Yuriy knows she´ll be able to relax and enjoy herself as well.

Ever since his brother started dating her, no one has seemed to want to accept their relationship for what it is. At first, not even Yuriy. The girl in the chair across from Yuriy is called Mathilda Alster. A young woman with a petite frame, big eyes and soft short pink hair. She is still red in the cheeks from the cold outside. Mathilda holds the hot cocoa she ordered tightly in both of her hands as if her fingers would turn into ice if she didn’t. That, or, it´s another sign of her nerves. Yuriy frowns slightly at the sight. Mathilda has been with them in Russia for over a week, and it seems like even the thick clothes he and his brothers helped her get doesn’t keep her warm enough out in the dry cold. It's the major reason why the two of them ended up shopping for clothes together.

Mathilda can't continue to wear her boyfriend´s shirts and hoodies once she gets cold. It works at their home, but not out and about, as most clothes that's supposed to end by the hips reach her mid-thighs or lower. Every borrowed t-shirt ends up a dress.

And Yuriy can't have her get sick.

”...I don’t really go to these kinds of places often, so it’s making them excited.” Yuriy says flatly, talking about the other people who keep stealing glances at them.

The fans are watching from a respectable distance so far, luckily. Yuriy is a very well-known face in Russia but he doesn't doubt people have realized just who is with him. The red haired man crosses a leg over the other and sips at his coffee, adding a bit of milk after a moment as he finds it just a bit too bitter for his liking. Something his teammates surely would judge him for. They always have their coffee black, black as their souls, as Boris says. A part of Yuriy regrets going to a crowded coffee shop during daytime. He loves coffee, but he´d normally have gotten it on the go or brewed it himself at home. However, Mathilda wanted to go for a snack after they were done with what they needed to do in town... so here they are. Not like Yuriy could deny her that when she looked so hopeful, so eager to spend just a little bit of more time together. Without really demanding anything but some of his time and company.

Before they set out this morning Mathilda had told Yuriy she'd keep him company, and that she had something she wanted to tell him. A secret. It made Yuriy curious. Mathilda might be someone who’d never tell someone else´s secret but she wouldn’t be able to hide that she is in fact, hiding something.

”So, you said earlier that there was something on your mind.” Yuriy asks at last.

Usually, the two of them have these kinds of conversations back at home. During Mathilda´s stays with them it has become a habit to gather around the kitchen table, having tea or coffee with something sweet and just talk. Even if she could just lock herself up in his brother's room and spend all the time with him, Mathilda put effort into getting to know all of them better. Never once voicing she thought their lifestyles were odd, but asking if she could help out with meals and chores while she lived with them. After a few days, they realized that all of them had breakfast, lunch and dinner together at the same hours a day. Even if their work, school, or individual practises were scheduled differently. Mathilda had observed, and made a good schedule that´d suit their hectic life-style. Before that, it had mainly been Sergei and Yuriy who were responsible for any home cooked meal. This change resulted in Yuriy and Mathilda growing closer, spending more time together, and learning each other's habits and likes and dislikes.

Today Mathilda was a little bit too eager to help Yuriy with his errands. She seemed almost anxious to get away from the three other men as she spoke with him in a low voice in the hallway. Asking if she could come with. Mathilda would often be content staying back reading when her boyfriend was at his part time job, or hanging out with whoever was at home, but Yuriy didn´t mind that she wanted his company. He has come to enjoy hers, and found the way she seemed to want to rely on him quite endearing.

However, he's certain whatever she's trying so hard to keep a secret has something to do with her boyfriend. It had left him feeling a bit uneasy for a while, as he's concerned it´d be something negative. Yuriy might not be able to admit it yet but he would miss her if Mathilda ever broke up with his friend. His thoughts straying to if it would work staying in touch even if it happened.

Mathilda´s cheeks end up getting a bit redder at Yuriy´s question. Her embarrassment and shyness is always refreshing, especially since it has never stopped her from doing what she wants in the end.

Leaning his chin in the palm of his hand, Yuriy leans forward over the table. Elbow resting just at the edge. ”Do I … really want to know?” Yuriy asks at last, the corner of his lips turning upward in a smirk.

Judging by Mathilda´s expression this won't be about a break up.

Even if Yuriy´d consider Mathilda to be something like an addition to his family by now, it wasn't always that way. It was something that happened gradually over time, until she was included with no questions asked.

Yuriy had learned to be observant from a very young age. It didn’t take long for the captain of the Russian team to notice that someone was getting uncomfortably close to the tight, sturdy and often very solid barrier of safety he had erected around his team. The intruder was that of a young woman, a woman he knew almost nothing about, during a beyblade tournament where their teams were rivals. Every team was the enemy in a sense.

Yuriy´s eyes soon followed Mathilda every time she was around, looking for any signs of ill intent while a small lump of anxiety grew in his chest. That lump grew in size as he realized she had been around for much longer than he had known. Rude as he sometimes can be, he genuinely decided it must have been because of her lack of presence that he at first didn’t take notice of her. She was always in the background, quiet and didn't take up much space. Not an opponent he´d have to worry about in the dish, but if he was going to be fair, his focus had been on other players.

Eventually he was informed about her, and that they had actually been in the same tournament once before. Alongside the fact that her team had too been victims of greedy and manipulative adults.

As Yuriy continued to observe Mathilda, he noted yet again that Mathilda was neither tall nor had a strong build. Her body, and eyes, showed her emotions as if she was an open book for everyone to read. He also realized that Mathilda was always observing too. Always conscious, self-conscious. With a build like that, and emotions so easy to read, Yuriy concluded that Mathilda wouldn´t become a threat to them physically. Whatever she threw at them in the dish or outside of it they'd know ahead of time and be able to counter. Yet, soon, he also realized that she might come too close in a completely different way than he expected.

Mathilda had her eyes set on Sergei.

With a risk to sound egocentric, Yuriy thought of how there have been people in the past who had tried to befriend, for example Sergei or Ian, with hopes of getting let into the Russians´ circle for their own personal gain or to even end up in his or Boris´ bed. Ian has always been the teammate most strangers assumed to be the easiest one to get close to. Often getting played in return as Ian has through bad experiences learned how people wanted to use him. All it took was for the short man to get excited over a friendship only to realize he wasn't the one the person was really there for. Others thought Sergei could be their key in. For some reason, many interpreted his silence for lack of depth, and assumed he´d accept almost any positive attention shown his way. They often realized their mistake when the usually gentle giant showed signs of irritation, and they realized just how intimidating the oldest and tallest member of the team could be.

It took Yuriy a while to realize that Mathilda was having a thing for Sergei. Even if her skin grew red with embarrassment, her voice cracking, she kept on approaching his brother with small conversations. Eyes were bright with delight as Sergei eventually started to return her greetings. Answered her questions, even if he seemed a bit put off balance by the attention and the fact that the girl didn´t stop approaching him.

Yuriy trusted Sergei to shoot her down if he felt she was overstepping, and he forced himself to let it go, only for him to see the two together more often. The lump of anxiety in his chest grew larger. Now, would this tiny girl, who sometimes stuttered out of nerves, be that cunning, to get close to Sergei with a false promise of.... affections... to later hurt him? Hurt their team? Yuriy didn´t want to take any chances. Yuriy knew Sergei had his walls up just like himself. He might seem approachable, at least the most approachable one out of his other teammates, just for the person trying to strike up a conversation feel like they're facing a cold brick wall. However, Yuriy could tell that Sergei´s walls were starting to crack around Mathilda.

Soon Sergei allowed her into his space, closer than any other stranger, and would expect Mathilda to be around. His steel blue eyes searched for her when she wasn't there when he expected her to be. How the quick meetings in the shared kitchen area of their hotel floor turned into longer and longer conversations over tea and coffee.

At one point Yuriy had felt Mathilda´s Captain Miguel´s eyes on him from across the dining area as they had both observed the same thing, and Yuriy felt annoyed. For once not so much over that Sergei and Mathilda were getting closer, but because of how cautious Miguel´s eyes had been. As if he was telling Yuriy to make sure his team behaved.

It didn't take long for Mathilda´s name to leave Sergei´s mouth around his team. It had made them grow quiet, because it had been rare for any of them to have plans with others outside of their small circle. Boris was the first one to break the silence as he made a crude joke about Sergei´s and Mathilda´s difference in size and that Sergei should be careful not to crush her. Boris deserved the death stare Sergei gave him after that.

Yuriy kept fighting his unease, believing that Sergei knew what he was doing, while also getting ready to act if things got out of hand.

The first time Mathilda ate with them she was very nervous, Yuriy could tell, the whole world could tell, but she still sat there with them and tried. Tried to keep up with conversations even if Boris was rude, and spoke mostly in Russian in a childish way to exclude her. Something Yuriy wouldn´t accept, as he instead used the lunch to talk to her. Gently poke her to see if there was any ill intent, testing the waters.

What in the end convinced Yuriy Mathilda was safe and good for his brother was the way she reacted to Sergei getting hurt. It was a minor injury: Sergei had stepped badly during practise and damaged his ankle. Leaving him with a swollen foot and a bad limp he tried to cover as well as he could among strangers. Somehow Mathilda saw through his pretense and realized he was hurt. The usually quiet girl had stopped Sergei as he and Boris were walking past her in the hallway. Voice a bit high-pitched as she asked about Sergei´s limp, and grew almost pushy as Boris told her it was nothing. As he told her to back off.

Mathilda had spent that evening sitting by Sergei’s feet cooling the swelling of his injury with ice and cold water. Yuriy had only realized this when he returned from a meeting with the BBA. The worry he saw on her face wasn’t an act. The challenge in her eyes as she looked at him and his team while staying by Sergei’s side, daring them to ask her to leave, was her true feelings.

Yuriy´s eyes narrow a fraction. He swirls the tablespoon in his now half-empty coffee cup, and tilts his head to the side while taking in Mathilda's sincere expression. Her face tells him that whatever secret she is hiding her nerves is from excitement and not out of anxiety.

“Our one year anniversary is coming up.” Mathilda starts slowly, her cheeks seeming to get even redder as she tries to word her thoughts as she wants them. “And I'm… trying to decide what I can do for him in celebration.”

Yuriy´s expression softens slightly, his concern fading. “...A year already?” He asks, feeling calm again. The thought that something between Sergei and Mathilda had turned bad had made him feel strangely uneasy. The man mentally sighs at himself. Focus returning to the current conversation and not what he dreads of the future. It feels like he met Mathilda just yesterday, at the same time as he feels as if they have known each other for several years already.

Anniversaries. Yuriy hasn´t thought much about it, but have they ever celebrated things like that, him and his family? They do keep track of a few dates, when things changed for the better for them. Boris is usually the one bringing out the alcohol. They always made sure to celebrate each other's birthdays as well. Celebrating they´re still getting older, living. Being free. Sergei was the first of them to get into a serious relationship. This is all new.

“Sergei probably won't expect anything…” Yuriy trails off slightly. “You have a good shot at surprising him, Mathilda.”

Mathilda has been patient and gentle as she guides Sergei through his first relationship. Yuriy thinks Sergei might not be Mathilda´s first love, but her first in many other ways, and they could experience it together at their own pace.

Sergei rarely wants something for himself, or expects others to do things for him. Emotions that Yuriy has seen grow since he started seeing Mathilda, as the man too learned he wanted her attention in different ways. Sergei had gone from only making sure others were alright to having someone, outside of family, who’d get worried sick about him. Who he would fight wars to keep happy and safe.

Mathilda smiles at Yuriy´s answer, and she seems pleased about what he just told her even if it didn't solve her problem of what to get Sergei in the end. Yuriy wonders what she has planned for her boyfriend. Warmth grows in him as he knows that Sergei now has more dates to remember and celebrate. Just like he too has a reason to spoil yet another person, Mathilda, when he wants to.

“I thought of… kidnapping him for a day, taking him to our favorite places, eat his favorite foods… “ Mathilda speaks, excited. “And-- … “ “You want us to be… somewhere else that day?” Yuriy asks with a slight smirk. The smirk is quite natural as he´ s amused imagining how Mathilda would ´kidnap´ Sergei.

“N-no!” Mathilda exclaims, understanding what her friend means. If they want some more privacy, just for them. “Well, it would be nice but--… “

“I'm sure I can get Boris and Ian out of the house for one evening…” Yuriy continues to playfully tease her.

A low buzz in Yuriy´s pocket makes him reach down for his phone, looking at the screen for just a moment.“Sergei´s off work, he's coming to pick us up on the way home.” Yuriy is thankful as he would rather not get on the public transport again today.

Mathilda nods, clearly thinking time must have passed quickly today, as she too checks her phone. Red cheeks slowly return to a normal shade as her embarrassment fades. Mathilda had neglected her phone simply because she was focused on Yuriy today, and there's an unread message from Sergei there waiting for her. The blonde Russian must have texted Yuriy too, due to the lack of reply on Mathilda´s part.

Just like Yuriy calls Mathilda when he can't get a hold of Sergei.

“I'll go and buy something for the others!” Mathilda says, getting her wallet before walking away. Blue eyes watches her as she checks out the display of different treats. Yuriy can already see Ian grinning at the gesture, and Boris not reacting much but whatever Mathilda gets for him will get eaten before next morning. For once, Yuriy isn´t the first one to notice Sergei. Instead his eyes follow how Mathilda rushes over to him, bag of sweets in hand. Taking in how Sergei´s tall and stiff frame softens as he leans down towards her: listening attentively to whatever she's saying. Yuriy gets up from his seat and pulls on his coat slowly, unable to look away at the sight. They look happy. It warms him, from inside out. He gets Mathilda´s things for her before he moves towards the couple. A long exhale through the nose.

Not everyone is out to hurt them.

#fanfic #writing meme #MathildaXSergei #MathildaxSpencer #Zadien #Beyblade #Beyblade fanfiction

22 notes · View notes

watayaaratamblr · 3 years

Text

Arata is an unfortunate character.

No, he is NOT!

But if we wish to make him one, then we don't need one fifth of the effort put into making Taichi the "sad" character that most fans keep labeling as "Poor Taichi", and Arata would have been then the most unfortunate character in Chihayafuru. All we need is a good mangaka (Suetsugu is!) & the intention to make him draw sympathy (the whole point), simply because Arata’s story is well packed with good material serving the purpose.

Starting with the fact that he was an almost blind child … Like “looking through a magnifying glass”, hearing voices outside but being unable to see anything~ A child who had to wear glasses from the age of 3, any writer can make this a touching story if so they wished -But Suetsugu sensei did not want to.

Growing up as a weak boy who is a letdown in everything most boys do, crying alone when he fails to fit in, disappointing his father who kept pushing him to go outside and be “normal” like all the other children all while letting go of Karuta that he was confirmed to have liked since he was very young. Writing a bit of his struggles to find a place for himself within the norms could have made readers cry a lot.

His grandfather thankfully extended his hand to him, offered him a place where he can be himself; But that too, created a situation where he maybe had to take a side & deal somehow with the other side because his grandfather & his father had a fight and he can only be torn between them. I’m no writer myself, but I can make this sentimental.

Then his father took him away to Tokyo where he had to be a part of a poor family, and not only to cancel his needs & desires (like for example having different outfits for school instead of the few he will be noticed to wear frequently) but to also work sometimes to support his parents, to wake up before school time in the early mornings when other children are probably sound asleep in their warm beds, to go outside in the cold, to earn some cash and to give it to his parents … I read some real sad stories with this idea. So yeah, Arata could have been one of the saddest characters if Suetsugu wanted him to be.

And not to mention being bullied and laughed at for not only his impoverishment (which he can hope to change) but for his identity (as a boy from Fukui speaking a “weird” dialect). He received all this with lot of patience, and tried to comfort himself by himself with his grandfather’s “gift”, how it was a refugee for him.

Any writer can make a sob story out of Arata’s unspoken loneliness & yearning for home, his grandpa & for playing his beloved Karuta properly.

Or out the fact that he couldn’t make any friends in his new school either (he was confirmed to never have real friends since his childhood through the fact that he struggled to fit in + he stayed like that even after he grew up (like Murao said), and he is not someone who doesn’t care about having friends because he was confirmed to almost worship his bond with Taichi & Chihaya, Taichi specifically even though their friendship isn’t really a comforting one; he longed for friendship however it is!)

He enjoyed that friendship nonetheless, he might even have felt like he was compensated for everything he wished for through it but he was soon robbed of all of it as he was separated from these friends & while he could still enjoy a bit of it through correspondence (at least Chihaya kept in touch), he wasn't as untroubled as needed for that because he was about to lose his precious grandfather.

And the process of losing him wasn’t something to take lightly either. Having busy (or rather negligent?) parents made him (a boy not even 14 years old) a caregiver for an old man who suffered from paralysis on the right side of his body and later dementia, not as simple as that, he had to watch what his most beloved & respected person turn into day & night, when he worked “really hard” (as stated in the manga) with his rehabilitation exercises, when he helped him with his baths, he massaged his limbs, he fed him, constantly talked to him & showed him Karuta cards to “keep him” in this world. And when it's too much for him, he goes outside the room and cries bitter tears silently, all alone! There was this person who suffered from (PTSD) for years because their sick aunt didn’t recognize them (they were her favorite nephew before & they were 17 yo at the time), this person couldn’t visit her since & couldn’t see her before she died & they developed a fear of “getting too close” & of seeing sick people, they had to seek long & serious therapeutic help. And Arata actually suffered from PTSD for over a year & half, any psychologist can easily recognize that from the fact that he quit Karuta, refused to touch & hated to see the cards (I stress on this), how he answered Chihaya when she called him, how the calm & patient him (that we knew from his childhood) was agitated & treated her rudely when she insisted on playing a match. And it was all confirmed in Arata’s last words in the same chapter: “I wanted to see you, I always had, but I didn’t want you to see me like this” (in the official tr), he knew that he wasn’t himself (contrary to what Taichi thought, his friend who decided to abandon him instead of trying to help. Chihaya still had faith in him but Taichi was louder -ch10)

Still, thanks to Chihaya, Arata was back to his beloved Karuta, though we all questioned how much fun he really felt while playing again, how much of him was involved with the game now. And eventually, he himself expressed the pressure (not the fun) he felt while playing. What took his passion away, what turned the feelings of a Karuta baka into mere obligation, this also is good content for an emotionally charged story, it only needs the intention of the writer.

And he shone in the world of Karuta. YET he was never “proud” of it, that was never received as anything special. When he comes back home, none really cares (or at least, none shows any enthusiasm), he goes to the western-challenger qualifiers and his parents won’t even go watch, won’t even prepare some food for him, he comes back home late & finds none, and prepares everything by himself (apart from Yu’s help). His parents pray for his defeat, meaning that his DREAM to become Meijin/be strongest in Karuta doesn’t mean much to them, and he knows it, and he was never shown telling them the news like when you want to share a happy one. Arata’s mother -before giving up after acknowledging Arata’s dedication- wanted his defeat even though there was enough money to support him, the lack of money being the excuse she & her husband claimed to be the reason of their lack of support.

The support system Arata lacks isn’t only in his family. Since the death of his grandfather he seems to stand alone in Karuta too. Murao was the only one who spared some time for him but only after he realized how “alone” he was and took pity on him. Murao's realization implies that the training Arata was doing at the Nagumo society didn’t really count for what he really needed. Kuriyama sensei (being expected by fans to be the “Harada” in Arata’s side) was almost useless & he himself expressed his confusion about what to do with him & how to help him. We never saw him particularly guide him in any way either. "Experiences" & "taking chances" were two factors that helped Mizusawa members for example to grow a lot, but these chances are doors without knobs & we know that they were opened for them by adults who were taking care of them in a way or another + being friends ensured that they encouraged each other then proceeded with every idea they got to learn & experience more. Arata lacks both these sources (adults around him rather burdened him with their expectations) so he kept training on his own mostly & we saw how it felt frustrating to him to be relying only on his solo training & an "image" encouraged by a long-dead teacher, he realized the toll of lacking real opponents in practice with whom he can measure his abilities & correct his mistakes to grow stronger. Support can also be emotional. Did Arata ever receive particular emotional support? I can only remember panels where the people worried for him kept watching him from afar while he dealt with it on his own.

Yu was an exception but even her support was written in a way suggesting that Arata was prepared to go on without it. Because with time, Arata learnt to "not expect much" which is also a very interesting trope for a sad story.

And he was described as “a lonely player on top” but this was never elaborated to show how it felt like to be one for Arata himself. This idea is also brilliant for melancholy if the author wanted fans to sympathize with Arata but she didn't go beyond praising Chihaya who could somehow reach him & Shinobu chan.

And while playing on his own (or working part time to support himself), taking care of himself, he met his two precious friends again (they were the only selfish desire Arata has openly expressed throughout the series). But what he felt is that he was left behind & that he was the only one so far away. And he was. They got to experience so many things he didn’t, they made new friends & new bonds & he didn’t, they got closer to each other & he didn’t… At the end he went back to be the outsider & them the two old childhood friends. If the author wrote just a little bit more about these, if she highlighted these facts they could have made a good drama.

Love is the main reason Taichi is "felt for" (because he progressed in karuta but not in Love ..not yet at least). Arata is also a part of the love triangle in Chihayafuru, and if we try to summarize it with the intention of making it sad, then let's go, there is enough to say for that, we just need a good writer (which I'm not sadly). Still in short: Arata seems to have started to develop feelings for Chihaya a long time ago but he had to keep that in check because he thought she was dating Taichi & he kept his distance out of respect for that assumed relationship even though he craved at least connecting with his old friends. When he came closer, Chihaya was interested in him but he never knew, the enthusiasm she showed him was not different from how she is with everyone, no, Taichi received special treatment, while for him, every time he tries to say something to her he is cut off somehow. Everything seemed to be against them getting close. Later Chihaya seemed to have ultimate fun with Taichi too, maybe that was the only thing he thought he could give her, now she didn't need it. Maybe he had that thought again when she praised his game against Harada sensei that's why he confessed but soon, She is once again so far away, she seemed to need Taichi to function properly, he understood that & he used that to cheer her up in her most important tournament. He wanted badly to play with her again to only be totally iced, he couldn't even be seen by her, he was so far away, she belonged to where he wasn't part of (& even her friend kana found a way to express her disapproval of him) Can we not make a drama out of this? Or out of his stuttering, awkwardness & introversion? Or maybe the fact that his parents don't understand him? And did anyone alse feel that in most of Taichi's mother's appearances, we got this feeling that Taichi is a son who should be cared for while when Arata's parents appeared, many times, we can feel how Arata was used to highlight their feelings as individuals & he was drawn there as the member of the family who had to pay attention to that? Anyway, every single one of these points alone is very good material for a "tearjerker" so what about all of them combined? because they are all facts from Arata's reality.

Again, all we need is a good writer (we have it) & the intention to make it that way which isn't there. Suetsugu decided instead to put double the effort to make Taichi the "sorrowful/anguished" one because Arata is not a character written to feel sorry for or to commiserate. He is rather written for the most part of the manga as an inspiring one, an aspiration, to be a drive & a goal. So despite having all the above circumstances, he is instead written as a character who keeps to himself, doesn't complain, hides his hardships, makes it seem that he fine when he notices that someone is watching, tries to focus on what he has & be happy with it however little or simple. That's why it's easy for him to forget & forgive, easy for him to recover & stand up again because there are other characters who need him there as an example, who think that he is perfectly fine so they should only focus on themselves and thus, Bildungsroman can be used for them. And finally- wait, what were Taichi's problems again?

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

Writer adds:

#chihayafuru #wataya arata #ayase chihaya #chiharata #mashima taichi #this is dedicated to Arata fans who are constantly told they love a one dimensional character which is just ignorance speaking #or at least looking the other way when Arata actually is there!

16 notes · View notes

finding-fallen-stars · 3 years

Text

YGO Questionnaire Part 2 Electric Boogaloo

So, my gf/bf @howaboutalittlehelpneos tagged me to do this again a... good long while ago, and I had wanted to wait until I'd finished my GX rewatch before trying this again. But ouch oof I accidentally also got through all of 5Ds again before getting to this lol

But the 5Ds rewatch definitely reshaped a lot of my thoughts, so... cracks knuckles. This won't be spoiler free, fair warning~

Favorite Series: ugh the formatting killed my original essay on this but okay GX and 5Ds are pretty tied in my book, now-- I love them equally, but in different ways! GX fulfills my love for subversive coming-of-age stories with a heartwarming, humorous, and also soulcrushing touch, and I love how each season brings a new story and new characters-- it's like reading installments of a novel series, and I think the formatting works wonders for it as a whole. It has some absolutely phenomenal character writing, too-- even the characters I dislike are ones I can appreciate for what they introduce to the story! And honestly, not enough people give the first two seasons of GX the credit it deserves: they're half the charm, really. How are you going to feel the full impact of the heartbreaking content in seasons 3 and 4 if you aren't properly attached to the characters?

But on 5Ds's side of things... it fulfills my love for stories with time loops, found family, human nature, and of course, love and death and how they intertwine. I love how the leading characters are just a bunch of broken kids from broken circumstances who all find a home with each other, and of course, how it highlights class disparity and how fucked up the prison/"justice" systems are. Yea, sure, maybe it underwent executive meddling and all, but I genuinely love it for what it is and I wish more people appreciated it... my only problem with 5Ds is the untwist with Z-ONE and then the ending s m h I adore it overall and I could go off for a long while on it. Overall, these are my two instinctive recommendations for anyone getting into Yugioh!

(look at these boys they're so important) Favorite Protagonist: Oh, believe me, absolutely nothing has changed here-- Yusei Fudo is and always will be my favorite protagonist, and my rewatch only solidified that.

I just... love him so much? He's seen so much hell in his life and carries so much guilt on his shoulders, but he still has room in his heart to believe in others and to believe that anyone can defy fate and find hope even at rock bottom. I love that he's initially introduced as this quiet, brooding figure when he really just turns out to be a huge softie who wears his heart on his sleeve half the time and wants to bring about change for Satellite and its people. Plus I just really love that his greatest flaw is something that would ordinarily be a positive trait-- he's Overly self-sacrificial, to the point where he's basically setting himself on fire to keep others warm, and that's not really framed as something Heroic

Just... he makes me so happy. I have two Yusei charms that I ordinarily keep on my keys (one was a gift from Zenzen) and they're a constant source of serotonin for me. He's Peak comfort character for me. Best protag in my book Favorite Rival: Same deal here-- still Manjoume!

look at him he's so important

While he spends a lot of the anime getting the good old damsel in distress treatment (getting suckered into a cult, getting knocked into a coma, becoming a zombie, getting fucking Killed, etc), I still think his character arc is really well-written overall and I only appreciated it even more when I watched GX again. I love the fact that he's got a soft heart he buries beneath the edgy facade, and that he's simultaneously really sharp and also kind of dense lol. He's just a fun character and watching how he evolves from episode one to episode one hundred eighty is such a satisfying journey.

Plus, props to him for being such a versatile duelist-- 50 wins in a row is HARD as is, let alone with a deck full of cards he just found laying around in the Arctic. Three ace monsters, three different archetypes... he's a really good duelist and I'm proud of him for it

Oh, but honestly, I don't really dislike any of the rivals-- I'm neutral towards Revolver and Reiji, but the remaining four (Kaiba, Manjoume, Jack, and Shark) compel me. yes I accidentally wound up liking Jack Atlas shhh Favorite BFF: Honestly, I really like most of the characters who fit this archetype-- Joey, Crow, Gongenzaka, Soulburner... I still lean a little bit more towards Joey, but I really appreciate all four of them. I'm gonna say Joey again, just because I find his evolution as a character the most compelling, but I appreciate the other three a lot. Soulburner has the best design though Favorite GFF: Oh absolutely still Aki, but I honestly... really love most female Yugioh characters? I'm assuming this is lead girls only, but like. I'm dumb and gay and I love Girls so this is naturally the most difficult one for me to answer lol

Aki just resonates with me the most because she's the prime example of how trauma doesn't always manifest in palatable ways-- when we first meet her, she's angry and lashes out at anyone and anything just because she wants the world to suffer in the same ways she's suffered, and then... we get to watch her grow from that, once she's free from Divine and able to heal the way she needs to heal. I know the second half of 5Ds didn't give her character the attention it deserved, but I'm still proud of her for winding up on the path she did-- seeing her channel her power and energy into wanting to heal and help others was just so good and was one of the few things I really Loved about the 5Ds ending.

oh, but like. Asuka Tenjoin and Aoi Zaizen are very close seconds for me!!! Aki just has a vice grip on my heart Favorite Villain: Okay, it's still technically Vector-- I think he's the most entertaining, well-written, and effective villain out of all of the ones we've seen so far, but... I also want to add Takuma Saiou and then all of Yliaster as honorable mentions?

As someone fond of tarot myself, I was naturally pretty intrigued by Saiou the first time I watched GX, but my attachment to him only grew the second time around where I actually got the chance to understand his character better. Plus, like... the visuals with him are fucking astounding and he's always so interesting to watch.

As for Yliaster, I just... really love how the big bad of 5Ds turned out to just essentially be a broken man desperate to save anyone and anything and three robotic reconstructions of the friends he'd lost. I still think the untwist with Z-ONE was stupid and I much prefer the idea of him and Yusei being the same person, but I'm still compelled by the other three-- well. Paradox less so, because we don't get a lot of Paradox lore, but. Aporia and Antinomy for sure.

ugh Yugioh has some damn good villains

Favorite Card: now that I actually play the TCG game...

Stardust is always going to be my favorite of all cards because it checks every box for me (my favorite YGO character's ace monster, space theme, what more could I want), but Aromaseraphy Rosemary has really become one of my aces in my best TCG deck! I'm still mastering irl plays, but I'm happy with my progress and I love my plant gang...

Favorite Episode: alright, here's where there's actually been a Lot of change, so...

Season 0: Episode 16: "Turnabout by a Hair's Breadth - The White-Robed Crisis" -- The more I think about this one, the more I love it; there's a... lot of corruption in the medical industry, and I've seen a lot of it firsthand, so just. Seeing a corrupt doctor get what he deserved at the end was cathartic, in a way? Plus, a Jounouchi-centric episode is always a good time.

Duel Monsters: Episodes 96-97: "Darkness vs. Darkness/One Turn Kill" -- this hasn't changed, I still love seeing Marik and Bakura bitch at each other for two whole episodes LMAO

GX: Episode 152: "Activate Super-Fusion! Rainbow Neos" -- This one hasn't changed and it likely never will-- I take so much pride in seeing Judai push forward, past the fear and guilt he's carrying, all to save Johan... it's cathartic and I never get sick of watching it.

5Ds: sweats. still all of Crash Town, but also episodes 137-147-- the Ark Cradle is one of my favorite parts of 5Ds and one of my favorite YGO arcs period, and even though each duel is a fucking gut punch, I love the emotional intensity and weight in each episode... It hurts but in a mostly good way

Zexal: Episode 143: "The Aloof Duelist 'Nasch': The Destined Final Duel" -- this one hasn't changed! Still hurts, still love it, I still weep over Ryouga Shark Kamishiro on a daily basis

Arc-V: Episodes 81-82: "Our Respective Battlefields/The Ultimate Falcon VS The Black-Feathered Thunder" -- Okay, honestly, this was hard because I... genuinely. really don't like Arc-V very much at all lol (it's just not my cup of tea, but more power to those who do like it!), but I thought this duel was a lot of fun! Shun is my absolute favorite from Arc-V and I really like the friendship he struck up with Crow a lot, so here we are

VRAINS (so far): Episode 25-26: "Virus Deck Operation/Three Draws Leading to Hope" -- honestly I am so biased because I just really love Blue Angel and I loved seeing her get a well-deserved victory like this lol. I'm not done with VRAINS, so this is probably gonna change, but anytime Blue Angel or Soulburner are on screen, I'm happy

Favorite Decks to Use: Aromages will always have my heart, but I adore Cyber Angels too! I'm building my Trickstar deck, my Synchron/Stardust deck (just waiting on Dawn of Majesty...), and my Magician Girls deck, too! Fusion, Ritual, Synchro, XYZ, Pendulum, or Link?: Synchros my beloved... but also Ritual Years in fandom: I've been here for just a little over one year now! and I wuv it... I'm never looking back Who am I tagging: no one I'm too shy

#yugioh #ygo tag meme

3 notes · View notes

spidercakes · 5 years

Note

Please carry on the au where peter is a quickly rising pop star and tony is an international music legend!!!! I'm addicted to it!

Oof, it wasn't me who started that (I just reblogged it on account of I liked it too) but I figure what the hell, I’ll write a little thing with the same premise! This is more preslash than anything, but um. Hope you like it!

Sometimes Peter hates the lights, the yelling, all the flashing from the cameras but he also knows that this is what he gets stuck dealing with if he wants to have a music career and hey, it could be worse. He’s seen the way some other people in the music industry get treated and he knows he’s lucky that he got a decent manager, and his family- which really only consists of May- is supportive, and so are his friends. So if he has to deal with all the lights and cameras and people he can do that for until he can safely retreat to his hotel room and crash there for awhile before doing it all over again.

Its a lot though and sometimes Peter wishes he could take a step back from the public, take time for himself but that’s impossible when your face is all over billboards. Which is probably why he finds himself at the bar to begin with and its mostly industry people here so he doesn’t need to worry about anyone riding his ass about image. Yeah, he gets it, thirteen year olds love him but it does seem weird that somehow he ended up people’s role model rather than like... literally anyone else. The fans themselves though, they’re nice, its just their parents suck sometimes.

“And here I thought you pop stars were on short leashes. Who let you out to play?” someone asks and Peter swears to god he knows that voice but there’s no way. He turns, pretty much hoping in equal parts that he’s right and wrong and when he turns out to be right he isn’t sure what he feels.

“Um. I mean, compared to you rock stars a drink really isn’t something to worry about, is it?” he asks and oh man he can’t believe he said that with that much confidence when he’s talking to Tony Stark. Tony fucking Stark, rock star legend, basically killed his career and revived it like five times. Split his band and managed to come back. Joined another and managed to rocket them into a level of fame that was even bigger than his last band. Has so many awards he probably has a room dedicated to them and only them. And that doesn’t even touch on the potential biopic Peter has heard rumors about. Ned called him at four in the morning about it because they’ve both had a crush on Tony Stark for basically as long as they’ve been alive.

Tony laughs, shaking his head. “I guess not, but pop stars tend to be all image, no substance. Kind of puts a damper on things if you ruin the image,” he points out.

Peter would like to prickle at that but he’s still in shock that Tony Stark is talking to him. “Is that what you think of my music?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and he just said that? With his mouth? Jesus Christ where is he getting this confidence?

“Not the songs that you wrote, no. But god help me if I have to hear any one of your catchy, irritating love songs on the radio, no offense,” he says.

“Be glad you don’t have to sing them,” Peter tells him because even he’s sick of them, not that he wrote them. He writes some of his stuff, but never the singles and wait, did Tony just compliment songs he wrote like he did enough research to know he wrote them? “Wait, how do you know which songs are mine?” he asks.

Tony snorts, “one, they aren’t garbage. Two, there’s real emotional substance. Sorry about your uncle,” he says, tone a little softer there and Peter sighs.

“Yeah. I had a long fight to get that on the album and people were surprised that it made charts.” Its slow, sad. Peter had written it on the anniversary of his death the year before and it made May cry.

“That doesn’t surprise me. That shit is why I avoid pop like the plague, no offense. But know I will absolutely be offended if you think rock is just as bad,” he says, lips quirking up a bit.

Peter lets out a breathy laugh. “Uh, no. I love your music, like really love your music. I’ve been listening to it for like... ever. I lost my virginity to your Man in Black album, I can’t believe I said that I’m going to go kill myself now,” he says, lifting his hand to cover his face as Tony barks out a laugh.

“Knew it had to happen at some point. Congrats on keeping your cool for that long. Believe it or not that isn’t the strangest thing I’ve had a fan say,” he says and Peter laughs.

“Oh I know, fans say some weird shit. I’ve had soccer moms say some um... not family friendly things to me in front of their children. They can get weird. I’m sorry I got weird, I hate when people get weird,” he says. Its always a little uncomfortable and he’s had to learn how to handle people being creepy at him. Liz gave him lessons given that she deals with it all the time being a beautiful woman. Peter never really thought he’d have to deal with that kind of thing but people treat celebrities different.

Tony shrugs, probably used to a lot worse than what Peter deals with. His fanbase is mostly teenagers and while they do regularly call him ‘daddy’ on Twitter it can’t be anything like Tony’s fanbase, which is like a billion times larger and consists of people from every age group and country. He doesn’t know how he’d handle that level of fame.

“So, are you actually all that wholesome shit they push or do you actually have a personality in there? Because your music, your music, suggests you aren’t really the America’s sweetheart kind of guy,” Tony says, head tilted to the side.

Peter shrugs, “I mean most of its true. Internet age makes it hard to lie when fans will literally show up at the hospital you were born at to find out what time, specifically, you were born at. But I wish I didn’t get stuck in pop music. Its not bad I guess but have you ever heard Bo Burnham’s Repeat Stuff, the comedy song he did making fun of pop? I feel that sometimes. Its all repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff and it gets a little exhausting. That’s what I’ve got though, so,” he shrugs.

“Word of advice, Peter, if you want to do what you want to do you’re going to have to fight for it. Managers and execs will fuck your face if you let them. They want to talk market and research and song length and workable study tested formulas but that ignores all the shit that suggests people will listen to whatever the hell you hand them if they like it. If you don’t fight back you’ll get stuck in that shit forever,” Tony tells him.

“Hmm. Guess you’d know, your whole career is pretty much yelling ‘fuck it’ and doing whatever you want.” Maybe a little too much of that if he counts the long period of alcoholism and drug use but he got clean years ago and once again somehow managed to revive his career.

Tony winces, apparently thinking the same thing. “Yeah, don’t do anything I would do. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do either. There’s a grey area, operate in there,” he says and Peter laughs.

“Okay, alright. Question though, if you hate pop so much how come you came over here to talk to me?” he asks. Because he’s kind of curious and the star struck feeling is fading.

“Your hot,” Tony says bluntly and Peter almost chokes on his air supply. “Don’t look so shocked, if pop knows how to do anything they know how to pick them pretty. Besides, you’re not the worst pop artist I’ve ever heard, you actually have talent, and Quill told me you were too wholesome to give me your number,” he says, nodding across the bar to holy fuck Peter actual Quill, who is looking pretty damn shocked right now.

“Oh, I’ll give you more than my number,” he says, wincing because he totally didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Tony grins though, “I knew you weren’t as wholesome as your image made you out to be,” he says, looking amused.

“Oh come on, can you blame them? Do I look like a rock star to you?” Peter says. They both know he looks like he could be a member of One Direction and that doesn’t really jive with the rock star image. He’s just glad he didn’t get jammed into country music. He would have quit on the spot, he refuses to sing about trucks and dirt roads. At least love songs are kind of sweet.

Tony looks him up and down and Peter is pretty sure he turns red in response. “I can work with that,” he says, grinning.

Ned calls him in the morning screaming and he lets him get it all out before trying to calm him down. “Oh my god you met Tony Stark!” he screams. MJ and Liz appear in the background and lean forward, lurking for answers.

Peter shrugs, “I mean yeah, we met,” he says coyly.

“Don’t make me pry the details out of you Parker,” MJ tells him. “You were wearing his jacket in the picture and I’m ninety percent sure you took it in a bed. Explain yourself.”

“I maybe got a bit of a rockstar makeover,” he says, shrugging like its no big deal. It so is and he wants to gush so bad but Tony is a person, not someone to brag about so he doesn’t. He wouldn’t like it if someone did that with him but also he’s losing his shit a little on the inside.

“A rock sta- oh my god are you still with him?” MJ asks, losing composure for half a second before she pulls her cool aloof look back together again.

“Hey guys. What do you think Twitter would do if I announced a collab?” he asks, appearing behind Peter and wrapping an arm around him. Ned faints, MJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and Liz leans into the camera hard.

“I love you,” she says, wincing and then pulling away. “I can’t believe I just said that. I’m going to go die now,” she says, scurrying off.

MJ points the camera at still passed out Ned. “Pretty sure that’s what Twitter would do,” she says and Tony laughs.

“He’s still alive, right?” he asks right as Ned wakes up.

“Oh my god I had the craziest dream,” he says.

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #alternate universe #fanfiction #rock star au

54 notes · View notes