#regardless of dreams or not i feel like we all wake up disoriented at some point sometimes... not knowing what year/month/day it is lololol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wildpeachfarm · 7 months ago

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Hi Moku!

What does one do after taking a fat nap and waking up disoriented? They scroll your blog of course and keep up with the daily news! (And random absolutely serious discussions of underwear 😭).

I saw some mention of CCs moving weirdly again about the Dteam, and teaming with Sapnap for an event, and I’d just like to add my thoughts on the matter.

I feel like this is a common occurrence in the four years I’ve been a fan and part of this fandom. The process literally goes like this:

someone from Dteam (usually dream) gets called out for something, Twitter freaks out and reacts before the “cancelled” party can respond/apologize, upcoming projects are pushed back months/years depending on severity of “cancelation”, unrelated CCs speak out against “cancelled” party (usually Dream), project release is finally approaching and hype is being created, fans and CCs alike suddenly like Dteam again. And then it gets rinsed and repeated till it’s sucked dry.

Only difference in this case was it was George being called out and Dream sticking by his boy, rather than Dream being called out and Sapnap defending him. And it just becomes increasingly more obvious how performative all these CCs and their fans are, the more this cycle rears its big, ugly head.

I think the difference in this situation as opposed to others is that Dteams own friends (if you can even call them that) spoke out against George, and that showed their fans that George is absolutely despicable and irredeemable, making Dream also the same by proxy.

And with this knowledge I raise this question. Why was this situation the one that did it for them? Dream has been accused of everything under the sun (even lost a year of his life trying to prove himself innocent over false allegation), and they all stuck by him-very loudly and proudly, might I add. Why then, do these people choose now to revoke their support and end friendships? Especially without first talking to the accused party? Their friend?

Seeing people associating with Sapnap, the same people who were quick to (very loudly) denounce George leaves a sour taste in my mouth. And the people expecting Dream to just drop George irritates the hell out of me, too. Why is it so hard to remember that these three men are a packaged deal, regardless of how much solo content is produced?

Whilst dream was going through some of the hardest shit in his life, those two stuck by him. When Sapnap was getting called out for joining Kick, they stuck by him. And even now, Sapnap and Dream both released statements saying George is their friend, he made a mistake, and to support Caiti. Reading comprehension must be poor here cause nowhere in either of their statements did they say they’d stop being friends with George. Thats their fucking bro, and they will support him, as he’s done with them.

Everyday I’m further surprised why Twitter clout means so much to people, when that’s not where peoples’ fanbases are. The mob they are constantly trying to appease will turn its back on them the second they get called out. Y’all were quick and loud with your responses (George hadn’t even released anything yet), and now that dreams teasing his project release, yall want in on the hype from that? Sure, but give a public apology to George for the way you jumped to conclusions and basically threw away a friendship. And give him a private one, as well that you actually mean what you say (though we don’t need to know about that one).

“Watch how ccs move the next couple of days” “anyone who does something like that is no friend of mine” (not verbatim) ‘my truth about dream’ “keeping him at arms length”- that’s a whole lot of words to say you’re weak-willed people who don’t support their friends in time of need but actually care more about your image than being a good friend, and I’d hate to have friends like that. I hope if they do try to come back now, they aren’t welcomed back by Dteam. We all know Dream don’t care how people treat him, but he don’t play when it comes George (and Sapnap, but George is the one who was in the hot seat recently). I hope he “keeps them at arms length” for how they responded to the situation, and basically threw away multiple friendships.

Yall don’t get to act the way you do, and then try to reap the benefits of someone else’s hard work and success, especially when you’ve publicly ended your friendship with them. We’ve reached the end of that vicious cycle, but I’m hoping this outcome is different; I’m hoping this time there is no welcoming back for these performative CCs, and they can sit there and reflect on why that is. Maybe then they’ll grow a backbone.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on the subject matter. (Don’t know anything in regards to the underwear discussion 😭). I apparently love getting on my soapbox every time I send something, so I thank you for reading it every time.

Have an awesome day, love!

-L :)

Hi L!! Yeah i absolutely agree with pretty much everything you said and I think what made so many CCs jump ship this time was the fact that it was a content creator within the community that spoke out similar to Shelby. However, that does not excuse their poor or extreme reactions to handling the situation.

I do think that the cycle you mentioned is super tiring and I feel like the community needs to do a better job of going "oh you dont fuck with us anymore? okay bye" and not following their actions for months afterwards to hate on them (unless we see hypocritical actions like coming back to hang with our CCs with no prior apology or public support because thats just a bit odd tbh)

I appreciate the soapboxing tbh!! It's always a good read :)

#ask #anon #anti drummyache tag

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wobblefloss · 2 years ago

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STUFF I DIDN'T KNOW WHEN I WAS STILL ABLED...

It's not always obvious what's wrong.

Hi, Doctor. I'm tired. Like, all the time.

No. All the time. I wake up exhausted. I fall asleep at work. I fall asleep in the shower. I'm scared to drive.

No, Doctor. You don't understand. I'm not 'sleepy.' Not 'drowsy.' I'm tired in my bones. My blood feels heavy. The weight of my head hurts my neck. I can't think sometimes--I forget how to read--i get lost in familiar places! I say 'tired,' but I mean that 80% of my life, I feel like a sloppy heap of mud splattering and crumbling from too much moving, too much thinking, too much feeling, too much light, too much noise, too much everything. I'm confused and disoriented and like I'm in a terrible dream.

Oh.

That's a symptom of a lot of things?

Anemia. Migraine. Sleep apnea. Vitamin deficiency. Thyroid dysfunctions. Brain diseases. Heart diseases. Neurological disorders. Blood disorders. Autoimmune issues. Depression and other psychiatric conditions. Lifestyle choices: sleep, food, activity level. Environmental factors: mold, pollution, allergies.

There's a lot of testing to rule things out, huh? Could take years? Yes, I know it will be expensive. Yes, I accept that some of the tests will hurt. Yes, I commit to rearranging my eating/sleeping/exercising habits and seeing every recommended specialist.

Doctor, you don't understand. Either we find an answer, no matter how long it takes, or I am trapped outside of the world forever for no reason. Not testing won't make these horrible feelings stop.

Can you imagine feeling this way? Always? During your friends' birthdays? When your boss demands work? When you're home alone in the middle of the night trying to remember how the sink works? During the commute. During the shower. Taking out the trash. Feeding the cats. Staring at your bills. Talking with your family. For years... weddings, funerals, holidays, weekends, 4am, 4pm, when your loved ones need you, during every emergency, while you fail at your job, at your hobbies, at your relationships, at being your basic self?

Fuck, Yes! Doctor! Run! The! Tests! We are burning daylight!! Let's get this ball rolling! Journey of a thousand miles, begins with single step, etc!

I do want to feel better. This is not my imagination. It's not my fault. I am a reliable witness to my own life and I don't care how many tests 'come back normal.' Those must be the wrong tests to find what's haywire. I know something is wrong and even if we can't fix it, I must understand it.

I'm now in year 7 of trying to improve my situation. I know so much more about my conditions than I did. I am getting help. I still don't have a full picture. I'm still disabled.

But it's not like it was.

Please. Don't give up. Diagnosis can take years. Some people never get a firm answer. Regardless, you will learn ways to cope. You will meet people who help you cope. Don't give up on yourself. You are worth the effort.

Seems like something we should all know.

Disability happens to people without our control or consent. Every single disabled person has strong feelings about their own situation and I would not presume to talk about anyone’s thoughts but my own. But none of us chose to do life on hardmode, so if the world could listen this month, there’s a lot to say.

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remember-to-be-gentle · 4 years ago

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Subject: BNHA, Dabi aka Touya Todoroki

Title: House Party Bully 4 (NSFW, fem reader)

Trigger Warning: Non con, pregnancy, (accidentally) induced labor, drinking, smoking (weed), obsession, possessive behavior, forced marriage, dick piercings, family trauma, voyeurism, drunk kisses, jealousy

“Avoid,” Touya said slowly, finally, “the others when you can.” It was obvious advice, especially after what his siblings had done to you, but you just nodded and laid on his bed. He glanced at you and sat down beside you. For a moment, you thought he’d rub your back or pet your hair, but he pushed you onto your side, forcing you to face away from him. “Laying on your side is better for the baby.”

Right. Even if Touya was, arguably, better than the rest of his family, he was just like them: only after the fetus growing inside you and the things that came with it. Milk, whatever prestige fucked up rich families like these got with grandkids, and ownership over you.

“I’ll get a job,” Touya added suddenly, “a good one, then we can move out.”

We. The word felt like an umbilical cord around your throat, connecting you to him and the baby you didn’t want. You were choking. But you needed him. Just as much as he wanted you to need him. “Don’t worry about moving out,” you mumbled into his sheets, “I’m sure your father wouldn’t let us.”

Touya twitched beside you. He seemed to be thinking because he was quiet for a long moment. The mattress caved closer to you. “Hey,” he said, voice soft, “you didn’t like my dad better, right?”

Something cold washed down your body. Every muscle from your head to your toes froze and curled in on themselves. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You felt him roll over, his back nearly pressed against yours, heat soaking through your shirt with unwanted comfort. He was silent for a moment, like he’d rather drop the subject, but then pushed on to say, “You didn’t like him better when he fucked you, did you?”

With as much ice as you could muster you replied, “I didn’t like it when either of you assaulted me.”

That seemed to rile Touya up because the bed shook with the weight of him leaping off it. He grabbed your arm, forced you onto your back, his grip bruising. “I didn’t assault you!”

“Then what would you prefer to call it Touya?” You glared at him, the ice in your body replaced with insufferable heat. “Rape? Teaching a rat a lesson?”

He backed off at that. “No, it was...” He bit his lip. “Forget it.”

He made for the door and your rage washed away with panic. “Where are you going?” You may have hated him, but you needed him to keep the hungry mouths of his siblings off you.

Touya stopped in the doorway and sighed. “I’m going out. The others won’t bother you if you stay in here.” He started to close the door behind him and stopped, one cerulean eye locking onto you. “If you need anything, you can call me.”

You wanted to say something back, something biting and cruel, but the ugly truth was that he’d saved you and you needed him. Your throat was tight when you said, “Okay.”

The door shut.

You laid back on your side. How did Touya bullying you turn into this? You were both just college students and suddenly you’d been roped into his fucked up family and forced to have his fucked up baby. There was a little him inside you. The thought made you sick to your stomach, but you laid there and held onto the sheets that smelled like your captor. The safest Todoroki. What an ironic thought. It was like calling him the least poisonous snake: regardless of which one sunk their teeth into you, you weren't coming out unscathed.

At some point you must have fallen asleep because you were startled awake by your phone ringing. You were too groggy to check the ID and answered. “Hello?” Your voice was weak from disuse.

“Did I wake you?” Ice ate your bones when you heard the voice. Deep baritone and stone cold. Enji Todoroki continued, “Sorry. I managed to pull some strings with a friend of mine to keep this quiet. Long story short,” he paused, “welcome to the family Mrs. Todoroki.”

Every word, every reaction, every thought vanished into a vacuum, a vacuum named shock. He’d done it. Any hope of escape after the baby was born vanished just like that. You were branded with his name just as your body would never be the same after it delivered his baby. You couldn’t even muster up the strength to hang up the phone.

“Rei and I,” Enji continued as if he hadn’t just destroyed your future, “are on our way home now. I’ve got another doctor’s appointment scheduled tomorrow.”

You didn’t reply.

“We’ll able to find out the gender of the baby,” he said, “Rei’s eager to know but Touya might prefer the surprise. Do you have a preference?”

The blank space that held your feelings erupted. Your preference? Now he cared about your fucking preference? Fuck no. Fuck that. You screamed and hung up, throwing your phone across the room into a pile of dirty laundry. You wanted to punch Enji in his stupid face. You wanted to kick Touya in his breeding balls. You wanted to... You screamed again and this time tears streamed down your face. Defiance leaked out of you with every sob. You were trapped.

*******************************************************************************************

For the next four and a half months it felt like Enji was keep you away from Touya. He dragged you from appointment to appointment, insisting you stay in your room. Thankfully the other three hadn't so much as knocked on your door, but that didn't ease your anxiety in the slightest.

As your belly grew rounder it became harder to attend classes without people gossiping, especially with Enji by your side. When you couldn't fit into your desk one day it hit you that you'd have to balance Touya, school, and a needy baby. Suddenly you weren't so sure you wanted to attend classes in person.

It didn't help when you could feel it, yes it because Enji had decided to withhold the baby's gender, kicking inside you. It hurt. It was like being bullied by Touya all over again. The thought made you want to cry, but you were in class and simply bit your lip. The baby kept kicking.

After you got home from school, there was a note on the kitchen counter. "Out of town for Shouto's jujutsu match. Back Monday - Enji." The house was empty. You had the Todoroki manor to yourself. Was this your chance to run, while they were all gone?

But the front door opened. Touya stumbled in with his friends behind him. He looked at you, snarled, and walked away.

Toga smiled at you. "We're having a party tonight, feel free to come and bring your friend, too!" She pointed at your swollen belly and giggled following Touya.

Shigaraki and Spinner barely nodded at you. Twice gave you a thumbs up.

So this was how Touya got away with his parties.

But still the party could be your escape. A million cars on the lawn and—

You doubled over grabbing the counter to hold yourself steady. Throbbing pain burst around belly button as the tiny Todoroki inside you reminded you of it's presence. The baby could come any day. And then where would you go? Even if you ran you'd be alone, almost due, without any of your things: including the funds needed to simply give birth. No wonder Enji was comfortable taking off: you didn't have another option to leave without endangering yourself or the baby. Fuck.

Grabbing a snack you went back to your room and went to sleep.

*******************************************************************************************

Pounding base ripped you from your dreams. Each vibration traveling down your body and making every cell electrify. A familiar headache formed behind your eyes. This was just like the party nine months ago, disorienting and loud and fuck... The base was making you sick. This needed to stop. Touya. You needed to find Touya.

Quickly you pulled out your phone and called the number that felt like signing away your soul to the devil. It rang and rang and rang. Nothing. Shit. At least you knew where Touya would be. He could stop this.

You made for the door, wobbling and waddling with that cursed ten pound weight on your stomach. Nausea made it hard to focus on where you were. You wanted to vomit. You used the walls to help keep yourself upright as you descended into the bass, cringing when it started pumping louder.

Just gotta get to the study, you thought, that's where Touya always was with his friends.

Even thought you'd lived here for what felt like the better part of your pregnancy, you hadn't had the freedom to walk around alone. It was so big and twisted and confusing, especially since you could barely move. But you could also remember when Touya dragged you to his room, the smell of liquor on his breath and weed in his clothes.

He'd been terrifying then. An unknowable monster that plagued your school life. Now, he was still a monster, but one you were beginning to understand—no matter how much you didn't want to.

You understood that Touya was a result of his toxic family. You understood that Touya would likely never have normal romantic relationships. You understood that you were now parts of both these things. You understood that none of this was your fault and you didn't deserve any of it. And nothing would change in understanding your situation.

You pressed on, breathing hard, and stopped. God you wanted to sit and sleep, but the bass was an ache in your bones that kept biting you awake. You didn't have the energy for this. You checked where you were and nearly sobbed. Big chocolate doors with ornate handles. The study.

You burst through the doors. The smell of weed hit you before anything, making you double over coughing. Enji’s study was exactly how you remembered it, though the potent smell of weed this time was far worse. It was like your body couldn’t handle even the thought of it, your stomach churning, bile lapping at your esophagus. Voices fluttered through the room overlapping and swelling until you could pull out Touya's, talking excitedly. He cut himself and then started again, "There she is." His words were slurred, messy. He’d been drinking.

He whipped around, nearly falling over his legs to get to you. A hiccup raked up his body and he burst into giggles. “She’s here,” he said again, “she came all the way down here to see me. Are you enjoying the party, babe?” Touya wrapped you in a foul smelling hug, burying his face in your hair.

Despite how uncomfortable you were, you couldn’t help noticing how he seemed to be avoiding your bloated stomach. “Turn off the music,” you said, “its giving me a headache.”

“But the party,” Touya whined in your ear.

“You and your friends can smoke and drink, I don’t care, but the music has to stop. Its driving me crazy.”

Whatever happy attitude Touya wore vanished. He dropped his arms from around you leaving you cold. “Its driving you crazy?” He backed you up against the wall, his face inches from yours, a snarl across his mouth. “Do you have any idea how I’ve felt? I’m the one who knocked you up and I barely even see you. We live in the same fucking house! You belong to me and yet you let Fuyu and Natsu suck on your tits like it was their baby inside you.” His blue eyes were fire, boring into you. “The baby isn’t dad’s or my siblings. Its mine,” his fire died out in a moment, head hanging low, the tips of his hair tickling your nose, “even if I didn’t want it.”

Your mouth fell open. This was his scheme, his plan, to knock you up, keep you at his side and he didn’t even want it? “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Tears exploded out of your eyes, your nose swelling. “You took my freedom, my life, and you didn’t even want it?” Your voice broke into a shriek, “You bullied me every fucking day because you have a fucking crush on me and—and—.” You burst into sobs, whatever thoughts you had died on your tongue.

Touya stared at you, his eyebrows narrowed. You thought he was going to yell at you, tell you it was your fault for making him like you in the first place. “You know,” his voice was rough, deep, “I always liked it when you yelled at me.” And then his mouth was on yours, teeth against teeth and tongue sloppily trying to enter your mouth.

You tried to push him off, anger flaring in your chest like a wildfire, but Touya was bigger and stronger. Even drunk and high he was powerful. Another reminder of the night he’d assaulted you. Another reminder that the Todorokis could lord over you however they pleased.

One of his friends started laughing. “I’ve never seen Touya get this worked up,” it sounded like Spinner, “wonder how far he’ll go.”

Touya pulled back, spit connecting your mouths. His chest heaved and so did yours as you both took in oxygen. He turned around, smiled. “You just want to see my dick.”

The others laughed in that way stoners did when they weren’t sure what was happening but they were still enjoying themselves. “C’mon,” Shigaraki laughed, “whip it out, Toga said you got a new piercing.”

“Gotta get hard first,” Touya laughed. He dragged you to the automan and pushed you onto your back, your head just a foot from where the others sat smoking. The smile on his face vanished when your shirt rode up over your swollen stomach, your belly button flat against the stretched out skin. Slowly he put his hand on your stomach, feeling how taut it was and froze when the baby kicked.

He met your eyes. “I—.”

“C’mon Touya,” Toga groaned, her mouth stretched into a hungry smile, “show us how you knocked her up.” They all laughed at that. Of all of them, you would have thought that Toga would be on your side, at least telling them off, but she seemed just as into your torture as the rest of them.

Touya snapped out of whatever thought he was in, smiling that doped out smile again. He wrapped your legs around his waist and bucked into your clothed cunt.

A high pitched shriek left your mouth. It was just humping and yet your body was reacting to it like Touya had just pinched your clit. The fiery rage inside you turned into a different type of heat. “Please,” you grabbed Touya’s shirt, “don’t do this.”

He kissed your cheek. “I’m just giving my friends a show,” he smiled cruelly, “rat.” He bucked again and this time you bit your tongue to keep from crying out. "Ah-ah," Touya whined, "you're not allowed to hold back. We're putting on a show." He dug his tongue into your mouth again, careful to make sure you had nothing to hold back your cries except for him.

He roughly bucked against you again, his flat stomach rubbing over your swollen one. His friends cooed and cawed as he humped you through your clothes, his cock growing stiff and swollen in his pants. Touya grunted into your mouth and then pulled off gasping. "Fuck, I want to be inside." He stepped away, clawing at his pants to free himself.

You tried to get up, run away, but his friends pinned you down, held you for him.

Touya didn’t seem to notice the assist, too distracted trying to unhook one of the piercings from his zipper. When he finally managed to free himself, you saw the prince albert piercing you’d felt the first time and new ones along the bottom. Near the base of his cock was the beginnings of a jacob’s ladder.

He crossed back over to you and yanked off your pants with your panties following close behind. He stared at your exposed entrance, a soft drunk giggle escaping his lips. “I don’t think I got a good enough look at this last time.” He kissed your clit and just as quickly bit into it making you shriek. “God,” he groaned, “you’re pretty.” He aligned himself with your entrance and pushed in.

A hiss left his mouth, his hands gripping the automan tightly. “Fuuuuuuuck, you weren’t this tight last time.”

“Last time,” your voice nearly broke, “I wasn’t heavily pregnant.”

He smirked at you, “That must be the secret to good sex then.” Touya didn't wait for you to adjust, sliding all the way out and back in, his piercings dragging roughly against your walls. A low groan rippled out of his throat. He hunkered down above you, practically tucking himself into you with his head buried in your neck and stomach against yours. He kept up that rough pace as his friends smoked and laughed.

You winched when the baby started kicking again.

Touya froze. He’d felt it, too. He lifted himself up, keeping his cock firmly inside you, and ran his hands over your belly. You couldn’t decipher the look on his face. “Hey, calm down,” he said, “Daddy’s right here, there’s no need to freak out. Don’t be so selfish with Mommy’s cunt.”

He started up his rhythm again, rougher and deeper. You shrieked when he hit your cervix and then did it again, taking your cries as encouragement. “Stop it,” you begged, pulling at his shirt, “don’t do that you’re gonna—.”

“Gonna make you cum,” Touya chuckled as if he’d finished your sentence for you. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, practically shoving your already impregnated form into a mating press. Each thrust had your heavy belly bouncing, your swollen tits leaking, your throat raw from crying. It should have been uncomfortable and terrible but the ugly truth was Touya knew how to fuck you well, from the first time he’d assaulted you to now, he felt good.

He was better than his father.

Touya growled as he started pumping faster, ramming your cervix harder and harder until—

You screamed. This wasn’t you cumming, this was something different, something old and terrible that had your entire body shaking and flexing at once. Hot fluid poured out of you and onto the automan, splashing the front of Touya’s jeans and shirt.

He froze, that careless smile wiped away in less than a second. “What was that?”

“Holy shit,” Shigaraki muttered, “I think you broke her water.” And then he burst into laughter. Everyone was laughing, everyone except you and Touya.

“No,” he whined, “nonononononono. Please don’t, no.” He pulled out of you and tried to cover your entrance but it wasn’t done leaking. “I’m not ready for a baby. I’m not ready to be a father. I don’t want... I didn’t...” He locked eyes with you, fear coloring the blue color of his eyes. Of every expression you’d seen him wear, fear was not one of them: until now. He looked at you like you could do something about it, like you could just hold it in and wait until tomorrow, but the baby was coming and it hurt.

You screamed again and the stoners stopped laughing.

“Bro,” Toga said, “I think she’s actually, like, y’know.”

Touya collapsed on his hands and knees, tears flowing down his face. His chest caved and expanded as he panted. “No,” he kept crying. He crawled across the floor to his phone, quickly opening it and dialing a number. You could barely hear the exchange over your pain, a deep and terrible tearing, but you did hear Touya say, “I didn’t mean to. Dad, please, help me.”

You don’t know how long you laid there curled on your side, sobbing in pain, but the study doors burst open, Enji reeking of cold night air in just a button down and slacks. He looked between you and Touya, sighed, and scooped you off the automan. “We’re going to the hospital, you’re gonna be fine.”

You did not feel like you’d be fine.

Touya had sloppily redressed himself, still crying. He followed Enji out into the car. He climbed into the passenger seat while Enji buckled you up in the back. You grit your teeth to keep from screaming again.

Enji shook the car as he climbed into the driver’s seat and peeled away from the Todoroki mansion. “I warned you,” he growled at his son, “that you needed to be delicate with her and what did you do? You tried to fuck her to impress your friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Touya sobbed.

“You could have given her, or your baby an infection or worse,” he growled, “don’t do it again next time.”

You tried not to think about that last comment.

The hospital was quick and efficient, taking you into the delivery room. Your mind was blank as they talked about contractions and potential complications. And then you were holding someone’s hand and screaming like you’d never screamed before, in more pain than you’d ever experienced in your life, for more hours than you thought possible in a day.

When it was done, a nurse dumped your newborn on your chest, a tiny little lump of flesh so red he matched his hair. His father’s hair. His grandfather’s hair. A baby boy. A nurse said something about a name but all you could do was lay there and watch as the baby opened his cerulean eyes and began to wail.

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kannra21 · 4 years ago

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Sniperhaul fanfic

ˡᵐᵃᵒ ᶦ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉˡᶦᵉᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶦ'ᵐ ᵈᵒᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᶦˢ

Overhoe finally broke out of Tartarus after a very long time. However, he couldn't have done it without the help of a certain villain mistress. 😏 Who's she and why did she choose to help this terrible (x2) man? Find out bellow.

characters: overhaul (chisaki kai) x sniper lady

word count: 3k

warnings: angst, past memories, handless overhaul, hurt, comfort, gangs, yakuza, just girl taking care of her mans

notes: I'd like to thank the person responsible for proofreading this work bc I'm supposed to keep their identity a secret. 😎 Thank you once again! And of course, the manga and characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi. @meefal you were excited to see the final product so here you go, hope you like it. 🖤

✂-------------------------------------------------------

Overhaul couldn't remember how long he'd been there, he'd lost count weeks ago. The only thing he knew was that he was in "Tartarus", a prison located 5km off the coast of the Mainland. It may function like a conventional prison, but in reality, those who're deemed a severe threat toward the safety of the nation were locked up and monitored closely, regardless of whether their sentence has been decided on yet. The facility was divided into 6 levels, where the potential threat level of criminals was deemed "higher" the further underground you go. It's a prison where, once you enter, there's no chance of leaving.

He sat there in his cell, B10 being the lowest level in solitary confinement. It was too cold for his head to function and too dark for his eyes to see, with the small window above the prison doors being his only source of light. There was also an opening where prisoners received their meals, but considering that he lost his hands, the guards could easily enter without worrying too much for their well-being. They'd leave whatever they offered that day and give him a disgusted look before locking the doors after themselves. He couldn't see his reflection nor touch his face, he probably looked like crap by now. His skin was itching and he felt disoriented from all the germs occupying this space, it's been a while since he's gone out for some fresh air.

He was practically Quirkless and yet they locked him out in the worst, most dreadful place the isolation block had to offer. He couldn't even feed himself properly, he couldn't do anything by himself whatsoever. But there was only one thing left to him; he spent days and days thinking about pops, Chrono, yakuza and everything he could have if it weren't for those stupid heroes-- no, if it weren't for his plan that so grandiosely failed. It made him feel miserable, desperate even, and with grief soon followed acceptance. It was all his fault, and he needed to live with this burden for the rest of his life. Because of him, pops is still handicapped to the bed somewhere, wherever the heroes might have taken him.

He stood up and started beating the cell with his leg, curing his frustrations. He didn't know why he was doing it, it was irrational and he's hurting himself unnecessarily, but for some reason it made him feel lighter. At least he could transfer some of his inner pain to the outside world. Other criminals laughed at his patheticness, especially since they knew why the guards were allowed to enter his cell. They shouted that it was impossible to escape, but he wasn't trying to. He knew that it was useless a long time ago.

Midnight came and all the prisoners mostly fell asleep. Overhaul, however, couldn't sleep a wink. Because of the dark room he spent most of his days in, he lost his sense of time so he was pacing around, deep in thought. He couldn't dream of anything nice anyways.

"Can't fall asleep either?" a feminine voice could be heard from the other side. Wait. They allowed women here? What could she have possibly done to deserve such punishment?

He leaned his back on the doors and slid down to the floor, trying to find the right words.

"Yes." he sighed, enthusiasm lacking in his voice "But it's not like I need you to talk about my problems."

"Hm, whatever. Go beat your head against the bars. Fall unconscious, loser."

The man snorted, which might as well be his first time he ever did that.

"Well, this certainly sounds effective. It's not like I have anything to lose anyways."

"Hey." the tone of her voice was earnest, and it aroused further questions in his jumbled up head.

"What?"

"We're going to get out of here."

Is she being serious now? "Really? Because as far as I know, we're locked out here for good. We don't even know the severity of our sentences. They can do whatever they want with us."

"Not quite. You know that they're being supervised by 'The Hearts and Mind' party offshoots. They can’t do a thing to us as long as they have their heads to the pikes."

This might be true, but he didn't believe in anything the government's been telling them lately. It's only a matter of time before they switch their plans and play by their own rules, because stabbing people in the back was the only thing they've ever been good at.

"How did you end up here?"

Oh the long-awaited question. She wondered when he'd ask.

"It's not like I need you to talk about my problems."

He smiled, he liked this vicious side of hers. But he also realized that she could be nice as well because if that wasn't the case, she wouldn't spread promises of the escape. At least that's what he thought.

"Sorry about that."

"It's okay. We've all been here for a very long time, now weren't we? We lose our cool and act like total assholes."

"Direct and straight to the point I see." his deadpan voice could be heard from the other side of the bars.

"'Been raised this way, for the better or worse." it didn't sound like she was bragging, yet it felt like she was just talking about herself, honest and confident, to cover up what she felt was wrong. The incoming topic which she'd rather avoid.

The villainess didn't want to open up about her past, so she just answered his question.

"I killed people beyond counting, following AFO's orders. He always wished to become the world's greatest demon lord and thus promised us enormous change in the hero society. So in order to achieve that, he needed his underlings. And that's how I ended up here."

"You were loyal till the end."

"You know what they say; there can be no progress nor achievement without certain sacrifice."

Wise beyond her years and just as sad. He wondered how her face looked like, how the world's been treating her.

"I had my own sacrifices as well."

"Do you regret them?"

...

"I do."

Now it was her turn to snort "Really? And I thought that people situated this low couldn't have regrets. You remember what they said about us. 'Beasts in human clothing', 'Simply dreadful beings'."

He felt insulted, maybe the things she said were true but it's not like he was anything similar to these pigs he shared the same air with, unfortunately.

"I regret hurting the person important to me. The old man who once took me in when I was very young. He was the infamous boss of Shie Hassaikai."

Something clicked in her, it's such a small world they're living in, "Yakuza? I know you guys. We used to trade with you back in the days."

"Todou Gang?"

"You said it."

"But... you were a force to be reckoned with. One day you just collapsed and not a single trace could be found. According to certain sources, there was no way anyone could determine the exact cause of your downfall. So what happened?"

"I killed them all."

...

"AFO told me to kill them to prove my loyalty to him and, of course, to make sure that there was no one I could turn to other than himself."

For some questionable reasons, and he didn't dare to admit that it was empathy he felt towards a random stranger and a former gang member he shared some history with, Overhaul wanted to fill the silence that lingered between them. Perhaps, because he felt guilty for making her reveal more than what she initially intended.

"I used pops' niece, a 6-year-old girl who had an extraordinary Quirk; it allowed her to rewind a person's body back to a certain state. That means she could put a body back to before it was injured or before the person even developed a Quirk. With that, I wanted to create a Quirk-erasing drug to get rid of the Quirk society altogether and to make sure that yakuza could rise once again. I cut her skin every day to take blood samples and to test her regenerative abilities. However, pops didn't approve of it, so I handicapped him to the bed and planned on waking him up the moment I realized my plan, to make him proud of the achievement. Unfortunately, it didn't play out as I wanted and I never reached him."

The silence followed and the woman wore a disheartening smile on her face. It's not the answer she expected, she didn't ask for another sad story from another messed up person she's met in her life. But the intentions were pure and for her, it was good enough.

"We both fought for something only to lose it all, huh?" she laughed, but it was prominent in her tone that it was bittersweet.

"At least you're brought here in one piece."

"At least you can still revive your parent."

Were they comforting each other? Were they jealous of each other? Were they wallowing in self-pity? They couldn't tell. The only thing they certainly could was the embarrassment they felt from the moment they realized that some of the prisoners were eavesdropping and making fun of their vulnerabilities. See? That's what they hated the most about opening up about themselves; they were worried about their feelings being perceived as a joke. The only way to protect themselves was to rise up the walls and never let anyone get closer, except they didn't regret exchanging a word or two, as long as it was the two of them.

The next day, 8:34PM Mainland-side entrance, the guardians of 'The Bronze Gate' announced a code red security lockdown. Panic and shouting could be heard from across the hall and the security alarm announced the potential danger.

"Close any and all passageways on each floor. All workers are to enforce strict measures to maintain order."

"The surveillance system is down! It seems like we've been hit by some sort of EMP attack!"

Static waves were spreading around the metal frames and the prison doors of the isolation block unlocked. Overhaul could hear the commotion outside and the villains leaving their cells in a hurry, but as much as he tried, he couldn't push the heavy doors open.

"3 seconds until we're back online- wait... What the... With the system down we can't monitor the inside!"

"Nice, 3 seconds be damned." he beat the door with his legs, pushed the surface with his shoulders, leaned all of his weight on the godforsaken thing just so it could finally open. Nothing. It seems like he lost a couple of pounds during his stay here. He couldn't believe his eyes, this couldn't be happening to him. After all this time of patient waiting and hoping to meet pops once again, it turns out he'd be the only one still trapped and all because he didn't have any hands. He panicked, he really couldn't decide on what to do next. But then he remembered-

"Go beat your head against the bars, loser."

That's it! This might be his only chance to escape! He didn't have much time left though, he could hear the shooting nearby so he definitely needed to hurry.

"The system won't come back on!! The ones in solitary confinement are breaking out!! Inside!"

"Control unit's on site!! Execute lockdown in the isolation block!"

"Follow procedure! If even one of them steps a foot outside their cell-"

"Fire!! Open fire!!"

Muscular threw whatever he could find in this messed up place back at them, excitement prominent in his big smile "You ain't gonna kill me with those puny toys! So how about you show me the exit already?!"

Other villains were joining him, still overwhelmed by the sudden freedom they've been given "Dammit... After all that time..."

"Meat..." Moonfish mumbled as he cut his opponents with his blade-like teeth.

The villain lady joined them in the run, still carefully examining her surroundings in case they were tricked into something, "The system isn't responding to my Quirk. 'Guess Tartarus really is falling."

As she was running down the corridor, she could hear beating noises coming from one of the doors. It sounded dull so the person must have been using their head.

"Eh, don't tell me the idiot actually listened to my advice. He must be desperate."

She came to the doors and turned the circular lock in a hurry. She really didn't want to stay in this place any longer, but she couldn't leave him behind either. It's not like she could use him for anything since he was basically handless and Quirkless so why was she doing it? She didn't have an answer. Maybe it was their talk from the other day, maybe because they were both gang members with a history, maybe because of her regrets and her wish to do something right for once. Or maybe because she was just this kind. Nah, this couldn't be it, she never did anything in her life that didn't require a certain purpose. She cast her heart aside a long time ago and did what was necessary for the accomplishment of the mission. It would be weird if she suddenly started using her heart again, now wouldn't it? She was AFO's personal assassin, there was simply no way.

He came out of the room with eyes wide in puzzlement. He was finally free and ready to find pops so he could possibly revive him and try to fix things as much as he could.

They looked at each other for the first time. They never said it aloud, godforbid, but they liked the other's eyes. And perhaps the eyes were a window to a person's soul, their broken souls, tormented by the life's temptations. They were still so young, probably in their twenties, and yet they looked older at the same time. Maybe because of the seriousness in their faces, their stronger stance, the way they defied their fate. They were destined to fall apart, no one would argue with it, but circumstances drove them to take action and rise from the bottomless chasm. And now they had each other.

"We need to get out of here," she stated and pulled him by the sleeve that hung loosely from his shoulder. They escaped Tartarus and raided a small shop near the coast to change clothes and to mingle into the public unnoticed. She quickly picked out a dress and threw herself at work while Overhaul was still standing by the shop display, looking out for the potential intruders.

He couldn't erase the thought of this being some sort of a really weird first date; the girl coming out of the stall and the guy examining her looks. He shook his head, he never had this kind of thoughts in his entire life. He needed to pull himself together.

The bob-hair came out and adjusted the ammo on her utility belt. He looked at her from the corner and she was stunning; intimidating with a tad bit of femininity in design. He stood there and watched how good it fit her curvy form. The thoughts wandering in his head sounded so wrong, terribly wrong. He needed to bring himself to stop.

"Oh right, I almost forgot." she took a shirt off the shelf and came to him, showing him the garment in her hands "You need a little help, right?"

"Sure.'' his voice was small and he stood still while she undid his buttons. Maybe from the outside he looked completely calm, but from the inside he was a complete mess. He looked at her face and wondered if she knew, the kind of effect she's having on him. She raised her head and he looked to the side, there's no way he could look her in the eyes at this point. He hoped she didn't notice.

"You like this one, don't you?" she asked, filling the awkward silence.

"Looks don't matter, the most important thing is to change and avoid getting caught." She looked annoyed. Great. He wanted to shove his head though the wall. Wait… Why was he thinking that?

"I choose the clothes I like. It makes me feel better in my skin."

"You look good in it."

She looked at him surprised and he quickly corrected himself "the dress looks good."

"Sure." she trailed off and put the new shirt over his shoulders. She could feel his muscles tensing. This was probably because of the cool air, she assured herself.

"Why did you break me out of Tartarus? It's not like I could be of any use to you."

She buttoned up his shirt and fixed the wrinkled parts on the garment, hand accidentally brushing over the left side of his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

Well... that was a surprise.

"I thought that maybe you could be of some use to the demon lord. Not Quirk-wise, but you may offer a valuable set of information. Something that the demon lord would appreciate greatly." she could feel it slowing down and her heart dropped just as much.

"But also because I... liked you."

He looked at her incredulously and she smiled. She pinched him to bring him out of the trance and he complained. "Don't be awkward, say something."

"I like you too... I, this is my first time I ever said this to anyone. It's weird."

She slapped him gently on the shoulder and he reached to take it but, yea, no hands.

"What the hell?"

"You're the one who's weird. But I guess that I like you this way." she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek "Ew, you should definitely shave though. No doubt about it."

The former yakuza boss swore; he'll never understand women. But for some reason he couldn't deny that he was particularly drawn to this one. He wondered if pops would approve of her.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #overhaul #chisaki kai #sniperhaul #shie hassaikai #ch 311 #bnha spoilers #bnha fic #crack ship #parody

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years ago

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Kissing Your Worries Away

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: A bad dream interrupts your sleep, but Loki steps in to save you from your demons. Warnings: a tiny bit angsty, I suppose, and some depressive/anxious thoughts A/N: Hello my lovely nonny! This was such fun to write, thank you for requesting it. Hope you enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

It was odd, Loki thought, the differences between dating on Asgard and Midgard. Most of the things done on Earth would have been considered improper, and sometimes even scandalous where he came from. Now, he didn’t really do much dating back on his home planet, and it would have been referred to as courting, anyway. In any case, he knew quite a bit about it, having desired companionship through his long, lonely years. And then along came you, nothing but a mere mortal who somehow meant so much more than that to him. You’d enchanted him with your kind smile, loving attitude, and perfect personality. That’s how he perceived you, anyway; it was like you two were soulmates.

Of course, Loki had not made the first move. Then again, maybe you didn’t really either. He had been too scornful in the beginning to realize what was right in front of him was exactly what he was looking for. Even with his rather callous attitude, you’d persisted and broken down his walls. A friendship, strong as the branches of Yggdrasil, was forged between you two. That, however, made Loki too fearful to ask you out, for if you had rejected him, he’d have lost you entirely. Little did he know, you’d been going through the same thoughts in your head. It wasn’t until one night of reading on the couch when you had kissed each other—it was still unclear to both of you who had actually initiated it, so you decided to call it a mutual action—that you were able to move past your uncertainties. As for who had officially asked who out, it was once again unclear, though Loki insisted it was you.

“My apologies,” he’d said after you’d kissed. “I should not have done that.”

“Loki,” you’d replied, shaking your head. “That’s what I wanted to do, too. And, I wouldn’t mind doing it in public, either, you know.”

“Well then, we shall do just that.”

For the next week after, the Avengers had to endure longing yet excited glances and gentle touches between you two. Loki wasn’t much for PDA, unless of course he was feeling particularly jealous, but he didn’t mind the small gestures. The rest of the team simultaneously found it adorable and sickeningly sweet. Not to mention how odd it seemed once they remembered how the trickster god used to be. Regardless, Loki was excited to take you out for a date. You’d gone to a nice restaurant in the city, and you’d both thoroughly enjoyed yourselves. For the second date, though, you insisted on just having a casual, quiet night in. And that is how Loki found himself knocking on the door to your quarters in a tee shirt and sweatpants, though nothing too baggy as he never was a fan of that style for himself.

“Loki!” you greeted with a bright smile. “I’ve got the movie all ready to go, and the snacks all laid out, so I’m ready to start whenever you are.”

“I do believe there is one other thing we must do first,” he said, walking into the room.

You crinkled your nose and tried to figure out what he meant, asking, “What’s that?”

“This,” he answered, pulling you in for a kiss.

By the time you broke away, you were both a little out of breath, and Loki couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorable you looked. Not only that, but you were incredibly beautiful, too. He cupped your cheek and kissed you again, unable to fight the urge.

“Alright, I think I am ready to begin now,” he informed you as he pulled away again, knowing that if he did not stop now, he’d keep going all night.

You nodded along, still a little flustered from the intimate moment. Hand in hand, you and your raven haired prince walked over to the couch and settled in under the blankets. Even though you’d begun already tucked under one of his arms, you got increasingly close to him during the film, snuggling closer and closer as the minutes ticked by. Eventually, you fell asleep against him, the slackening of your arms around him immediately alerting him. The movie was not yet over, and he wondered if he should go or stay until the end. He decided that if you were to wake up, you might be disappointed that he left, so he remained where he was. Besides that dilemma, he wasn’t really sure how to react to the fact you trusted him enough to sleep in his presence. It was, in his opinion, the ultimate show of trust to allow yourself to be so vulnerable around someone. Even in all your time as friends, you’d never done anything like this before.

Before long, your arms were tightening around him again, and he expected to see your eyes flutter open at any second. They didn’t though. In fact, you were whimpering a little, softly at first, but then louder. Before he could react to that, your body began to shake and the whines grew louder still.

“Darling,” he whispered. “What is it? Are you feeling well?”

You did not respond, and after a minute of befuddlement, he realized you were still asleep. Not only that, you were having a nightmare. He flashed back to the countless nights when he’d woken up in a state much like yours, and how each time he’d wished for someone to comfort him. Well, he was here for you now.

“Do not fret, my love, I am here. I will protect you,” he said, though softly enough to not wake you up, but rather just penetrate your dreams. “Nothing can happen to you so long as you are in my arms.”

Carefully maneuvering your bodies, he brought you to a laying position. Facing you, he smoothed out the crinkles of your forehead with a kiss. Arms wrapped around you, he rubbed your back and alternated between humming and speaking reassurances. Even when your body finally relaxed, he didn’t stop. Rather, he peppered even more little kisses on your face until a smile overtook your features. He pulled the blanket tightly around you, and placing one last kiss to your head, got ready to go to sleep, too.

“Loki,” you whispered, still half asleep, just as his eyes began to slip shut. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling,” he said back, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

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

Loki’s eyes snapped open. It was still dark out, but he knew something had awoken him. He quickly wracked his brain, trying to figure out if not the light, then what? That’s when your small whimpers registered in his brain again. How he had wished he wouldn’t need to disturb your rest, but it was obvious that you needed to talk about whatever it was that was bothering you. Before the dream could get too bad, he said your name and rubbed your back until you awoke.

“Is the movie over?” you asked in a groggy voice, feeling very disoriented.

“Yes, it has been for a while. The issue here, though, is that you were having a nightmare. The second one of the night, I might add. Will you tell me what is wrong? Please? I only wish to help.”

“I know.”

You didn’t say anything else, and Loki didn’t press, lest he drive you away or further upset you. He just kept tracing circles on your back until you were ready to continue.

“I just, I don’t know, feel so insecure sometimes. Like I’m just not enough, no matter what I do. And that whenever I get close to someone like this, it doesn’t matter because they’re just going to leave me anyway. God, it sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.”

“It does not. Do not discredit your emotions like that,” Loki scolded. “It is perfectly valid to feel insecure, but you must tell me so I can reassure you that I will never, ever leave you for anything in the nine realms or beyond. You mean too much to me for me to leave, darling. I love you.”

You hugged him closer, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Naturally, those words didn’t chase all your doubts away. After all, that is all they were: words. And from the God of Lies, no less. Still, though, you trusted Loki in your heart, and it helped a great deal.

“Thank you, Loki. I hope you know I feel the same way about you,” you said into his skin.

“I believe it with all my heart, darling.”

Then he placed one final lingering kiss to your lips for the night before you both went back to sleep in each other’s arms, feeling much lighter than you had in a long time.

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wallgirl · 3 years ago

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The Little Nereid Part 16

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 2,800

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. Graphic violence parts 15 and 16.

Updated regularly; will have about 20 parts total.

Edit AGAIN 9/16: Changed and added some text at the end, particularly with Poseidon. Didn’t save first time.

Violence and body horror throughout this chapter, largely unavoidable. It's too relevant to the plot. Not terribly graphic - more PG-13 than R - but it is disturbing, so be warned.

—

The prongs had completely passed through her body to the other end. Dynamene staggered backwards, her legs giving out. She opened her mouth to scream, to gasp, to make any sound, but was unable to. She brought her shaking hands up to her chest and stared as her lifewater began to drip from the punctures.

Poseidon's face turned to one of disbelief, then horror. The magic that had transformed her appearance melted away as her body began to weaken, revealing the petite girl's real form. He swallowed, pale hand clenching the trident, as he watched her stare at her chest in disoriented confusion. The silvery water that flowed was the blood of a Nereid, magic water in essence; something that could not be replicated.

"Dynamene," he whispered. "Dynamene." No. This can't be.

She looked up at him in a daze, eyes glazing over. The look of horror on his face seemed to register in her mind, and for a moment, she lifted one arm in his direction. Then her legs buckled and her eyes closed.

He removed the trident slowly, his knuckles white from the death grip. He dropped to one knee to catch her with his free arm as the prongs came loose. One hand went to her injuries, feeling the lifewater that seeped between his fingers. "Dynamene," he repeated hoarsely, commanding her to awaken. Her eyelids didn't even flutter.

It was then that the situation hit him entirely, and he grit his teeth. He tore part of the fabric off of his waist wrap and wrapped it about her chest deftly. She was still breathing, although each breathe was shallow and ragged. Time was of the essence, and he had to think fast.

Humans would not have survived such a blow, but Nereids were effectively shapeshifting ocean spirits that took a human form. Their bodies were made up of living water instead of flesh and organs, which rendered them impervious to most injuries. However, Poseidon's trident was able to harm any being regardless of body material, and Dynamene's body would begin to disintegrate from the trauma.

Lifting her up into his arms, he turned towards the doorway. There was no time to waste.

With improbable timing, he heard dozens of footsteps clamoring up the stairs, followed by worried shouts. "What's happened? What was that clamor? Lord Poseidon, are you okay?"

The other Nereids came bursting in with Actaea at the head. There was a moment of terrible silence as they took in the scene before them, then cries of disbelief.

"What... What have you DONE?!" Actaea screamed, lunging at Poseidon. Three other sisters quickly grabbed her by the arms, struggling to hold her back. "What did you do to her?!"

"There's no time to explain," Poseidon said coldly. "Don't give me a reason to hurt any of the rest of you."

"You monster! I'll kill you myself!" Actaea shrieked, yanking to get out of her sisters' grasp. Her pupils were full-blown in her rage, her steaming hair swirling angrily about her face. "How dare you hurt her! How could you?!"

Poseidon didn't let her words' effect on him show through in his expression as he looked coolly at the others. "Dynamene had magic used on her. It wasn't any power of the gods. Where might she have had access to this magic?"

The other Nereids backed away from him reproachfully, looking less and less human as their fury consumed them. One finally spoke up in a trembling voice. "Is... Is there not a witch that took up residence a few centuries ago not far from here?"

"How do you know that?" Another sister snapped back.

"A mermaid acquaintance of mine went to see her some time ago for help... She made a deal with her to solve a relationship matter. The deal wasn't much in her favor, unfortunately."

Poseidon's face darkened further. Would Dynamene really have made a deal with a witch?

Of course she would've... If it had meant being by my side. Foolish, silly, stupid-

He couldn't allow his thoughts to go any further, not when the subject of his berating was curled up limp in his arms. "Where is this witch?"

"Um... She lives in one of the deepest trenches, but I know little else..."

"Useless," Poseidon huffed. "Get out of my way." He stepped in front of the Nereids that continued to block the doorway.

There was a tense moment of defiance as the Nereids continued to stand in his way, unwilling to let him depart with their wounded youngest sister. His lip curled in outrage, and he began to raise his hand towards his discarded trident. Actaea, her expression now somber, spoke again in a defeated voice. "Let him pass... There's nothing we can do for Dynamene in this state. I don't want anyone else getting harmed." Her sisters listened, and reluctantly parted to allow him through. As he strode past, they got a closer look at their mortally wounded sister. Several of them broke out into wails and sobs.

Poseidon clenched his jaw and held the still Nereid closer to his chest. Save your mourning. She's not dead. Not yet.

Dynamene's body was beginning to dissolve. Drops of shimmering water began to fall from her fingertips and toes. She'd be dead before dawn if Poseidon didn't find a solution soon. But he was inexperienced with the concept of healing anything other than sea life; he pressed his hand against her torso, willing the bleeding to stop in vain. The liquid continued to flow.

It really had been her that sat across from him and confessed her love for him in tears. And what was his response? Gutting her like the monster everyone had warned her he was. He had messed up. It wasn't my fault, he told himself. She has no pulse. Her appearance was different. I could feel foreign magic about her. But then that led to the conclusion that he was able to be tricked by the power of lesser beings, and he found himself back at square one.

Enough. She will not die. She belongs to me. Her love for me is unconditional.

And when she wakes again, I will put an end to this chaos.

The wet sand crunched under his heavy boots. The dim starlight illuminated the surface of the ocean faintly before them. He would be able to seek the witch out with his abilities, but that would take time. He wasn't even sure what to look for, asides from a power with the same characteristics as the enchantment that Dynamene had. Time was fighting against him; a precious resource dripping through his grip like her blood onto the sand.

Without prelude, a sudden burst of light the size of a woman appeared in the shallow waves before Poseidon. The light dispersed gently in twinkles and stars, revealing the form of a woman. A faint heavenly glow emanated from her pale skin.

Aphrodite stared at him, her flawless face unusually somber. "Poseidon."

He narrowed his eyes. This was an unexpected development, and not a welcome one. "What the hell do you want? I'm short on time, if you haven't noticed."

She tilted her head, gaze flickering towards the still girl in his hold. "I know where you may find the witch you seek. If I have your guarantee that you won't harm me, I'll tell you."

Poseidon hissed, his clasp on Dynamene tightening. "Of course you would've had a hand in this. Meddling shrew. I should have known. Can none of you Olympian cretins keep to your own business?" So you were the one to guide Dynamene to that witch. Selfish, narcissistic bitch. How else would you know where to find her?

"Your guarantee, Poseidon," Aphrodite pressed.

He grit his teeth. As much as he longed to rip her head from her body and watch her golden locks stream through the air, he needed her knowledge. "Fine."

Aphrodite stepped closer.

---

Miles away, deep in her underground lair, the witch sat at her table alone. She was aware of her impending fate. Her actions could only lead to this outcome. But she'd accomplished what she'd set out to do, so she was content.

Before her, pulsing gently with a sea-blue light, was a floating orb of liquid. The Nereid's heart. She was the only person to ever see one; perhaps it would remain that way even long after her death. It was a fascinating sight. The mass continued to live in its own way, even apart from its owner. Nereids truly were interesting creatures. She might've studied it, but there was no point now. Her journey was coming to an end.

She had no regrets. Her revenge was now sealed. Hera or Poseidon, it hadn't really mattered which. Fate had truly smiled on her the day before when that little nymph had appeared at her doorstep. So unexpected, but so welcome. She had waited centuries, honing her gifts in the dark, practicing them on others, so that she would be ready for this moment. The witch was not foolish enough to think she would be able to pull one over on both of the gods. Hera would've been best, but Poseidon would do just as well. He was partially to blame for her misfortune too. Now he would suffer, and she could die content.

It was a shame about the Nereid, though. Just a silly child chasing an impossible dream. The witch clicked her tongue sympathetically. Weren't we all, once?

A shudder echoed through the cave, and she heard the water at the entrance slosh with an unseen force. He was nearly here, and she stood patiently next to the table, awaiting his arrival.

Without any further warning, the water erupted upwards like a geyser. The sound was deafening, but the witch didn't even blink. Poseidon emerged from the upsurge, water dripping from his bangs before his enraged eyes. In his arms was the nymph; poor young Dynamene. She was deathly pale and had a ragged bandage wrapped about her chest. The witch tutted.

"Witch. You have something that belongs to me." Poseidon's eyes gleamed like a laser in the dim cavern, his chest heaving with barely-restrained wrath.

"It's here, Poseidon." The witch set her hand next to the shimmering orb. "The Nereid's heart. You won't have much use for it, though. I see she's already on death's door. Returning her heart will do no good. Replacing an organ is no help when the body is already shutting down."

"You will return it immediately. I will not repeat myself." Poseidon's trident materialized in his free hand as he shifted Dynamene into the opposite arm.

"Oh? Is there finally something the mighty sea tyrant cannot do?" The witch asked, feigning surprise. "Pathetic." Her tone flattened.

"Your enchantment," Poseidon stormed on. "What did you do to her?"

"I gave her what she desired. A chance to be with you. Oh, she just adores you. I'm sure that will have changed, though. Those wounds bleeding through the wrap look an awful lot like trident punctures to me. Weren't able to tell she was the real thing without that heartbeat to listen to, were you?"

Poseidon's eyes grew even wider as he realized the witch's plot. "You planned this."

"I did." The witch shuffled back around the table, gently taking Dynamene's heart into her hands. "Do you remember when we met, Poseidon? It was at some gathering of the gods, say, three or four hundred years ago."

Poseidon's face clenched further with anger at her idling, losing his patience rapidly. "I've never met a hag like you in my life."

"I wasn't like this when we met." The witch brought her hand to her white cheek with a wistful look. "I was beautiful. I came from a wealthy and powerful family with demigod blood. Hera made a deal with me, you see. If I successfully seduced you, she would shower me with blessings and gifts on our wedding day. She told me everything about you to give me a leg up. Even about your ability to hear certain heartbeats." Her hand dropped away. "But I failed, as I was guaranteed to, and she was thoroughly upset. I was turned into this. So here I've lived, all these years, cast away from society into these deep trenches, waiting.... for her." The witch smiled at Dynamene. "The perfect opportunity. Heaven sent, even." She sighed. "It's a shame. She's still so young, but..." The witch shrugged. "Cracking an egg, omelets, all that. Just someone caught in the peripheral."

"Enough with your monologuing, you insolent bitch!" The muscles on Poseidon's arm grew more defined and taut as he aimed his trident at her. His face was contorted with murderous intent. "Heal Dynamene, now!"

"I can't. What reason did I ever have to learn healing magic?" There was no regret in her milky eyes as she shrugged once more. "And even if I was knowledgeable in medicine, it would be no use. Nereids are so rare. Only fifty, as you know. Their anatomy is a mystery."

Poseidon's gaze sank down to Dynamene. Her breathes were many seconds apart now. There was no more time to waste. He held her more firmly against him and lowered his stance to steady his aim at the witch. "Then die now."

"Gladly. I knew this would be the price to pay for my revenge. For breaking the sea god's nonexistent heart. And to think that it was as easy as this." The witch broke into a laugh that grew until it boomed off the cavern's walls.

Without further ado, Poseidon rushed her.

And with a single swing, the witch's head left her body. The pale thing rolled until it hit up against the wall, still laughing. Her eyes rotated to look back at him with their blank gaze. "Don't worry, my lord. There's still forty-nine left, after all."

Without another word, the witch's voice died off and her face stilled.

Poseidon strode over to it and brought his boot down violently. The witch's skull shattered under his heel. He resisted the urge to continue stomping until nothing solid remained. Dynamene needed his focus now; he could vent his rage later. He wiped the sole of his boot off on the rug and carried her back to the entrance of the cavern.

Lying her next to the rippling pool, he retrieved her heart from where it continued to glow, unbothered, upon the table. It felt like cool gel in his hands with a definite pulse, one that was all too familiar to him. He returned to kneel beside her and, propping her back up with one arm, he undid the makeshift bandage.

Her body was nearly hollow where he had gored her. His lips parted in disbelief. Before his eyes, her flesh was turning to liquid that ran onto the cavern's rocky floor. Poseidon quickly pressed her heart into the hollow. It shimmered for a moment, the liquid solidifying and connecting with the open edges of her body, before its light sputtered out and the pulse stopped. Just like the rest of her, it started to melt away.

Poseidon swallowed hard now, his face stiff. It was time to face the gravity of the situation. Dynamene would not be waking up.

He turned his face away for a moment, unable to look at the wounds he had made on her slight body. She had trusted him. She had clung to his side despite the warnings of everyone else. And like a sick joke, their predictions had come true. Gutted just like Adamas, a voice whispered in the back of his head. He bit his lower lip until it bled. How was it that the mighty sea god, capable of stopping tsunamis and commanding schools of fish, was unable to save one girl?

This shouldn't be happening, his mind spun. This isn't happening. She can't die. I can save her.

No, I can't. I'm the one who killed her.

His throat was growing tight, an alien sensation. She can't die. She belongs with me. A thousand years spent living in the same palace flickered through his mind. From a shy little girl to a headstrong, passionate young woman, he had watched her life; he had watched as her world began to revolve around him without his meaning for it to. And without his permission, his world began to be colored by her as well. Perhaps it had been inevitable. She belongs with me. I don't want her to leave.

He held her closer to him, caressing her damp cheek with careful fingers. The silence that rung from her body made the stillness around them all the heavier. Her face was growing sunken, her cheeks almost gaunt. He wanted to see her eyes just one more time; wide pools of steel gray that reflected him amongst the stars in their depths, as if he was the only thing that mattered. Stay with me.

And as her body released its final breath, he slowly leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

---

Author’s Notes: Sergei Prokofiev's Romeo Bids Juliet Farewell piece is so beautifully done. The first half sounds so remorseful.

I realized that, writing this chapter in particular, Poseidon seems less like canon RoR Poseidon. I was irritated about that at first, but then I realized that he's different because this story requires him to go through character development. That's important for a love interest. I'm not as frustrated anymore lol

#record of ragnarok #poseidon #record of ragnarok poseidon #poseidon x oc #fanfiction

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rosenallies · 3 years ago

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maybe kinda wondering would u wanna do a soft bratpack prompt🥺preferably the sick verse but whichever you feel like doing is perfect! Cutie synth waking up in the night after a nightmare/night terror and seeking the safety and comfort of his partners 🥺

thank you for sending this in💖 also I’m home sick today if anyone has a prompt for me, I have nothing else to do today besides try to not cough up a lung<3 😔✋🏻

——

It definitely wasn’t unusual for Synthia to wake up after a particularly hard day in a panic, unsure of where he was, the room spinning in darkness. The pills that were supposed to make him better leaving him dazed and confused more often than not when he took them.

Tonight was no different, he couldn’t remember what his dream had been about just that it left him disoriented, chest heaving and body aching more than usual as he fought for breath.

He blindly searched for one of his partners’ hands in the dark, latching onto Kendall’s the moment he found it. Since Synthia got sick, both Kendall and Gia had adapted to be light sleepers so they’d wake of Synthia began to stir or was to need something in the middle of the night, so the moment Synthia grabbed his hand, he was awake, Gia along with him sensing that something was the matter.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Do you feel okay?” Kendall fretted, placing the back of his hand on Synthia’s forehead to make sure he wasn’t warm.

Synthia shook his head. “I-I don’t know what’s happening, I-I’m scared,” he choked out, his heavy breathing making it hard to form words.

Gia pet his hair back, talking in the most soothing manner they could muster. “You’re home and you’re safe, baby, we’re right here.”

He nodded against their chest, hiding his face and breathing in their scent while Kendall rubbed circles on his back. “I don’t wanna feel like this anymore,” he sniffled, the realization setting in and making his chest feel heavy.

“I know, baby,” Kendall whispered, “we both wish we could take it away from you. Let’s get you back to sleep, honey. You need all your rest.”

Deep down inside Kendall knew it wouldn’t matter, that if tomorrow Synthia’s body felt like betraying him and the medicine the doctors prescribed, it would regardless of how much he slept. And that’s the route it seemed to be going. It was only 4 am but after days of his head reeling everytime he tried to get out of bed, it seemed as though good days were something of the past. They all knew there would be good days again, but the bad days that lead up to that seemed like the worst days, clouding even the best of the good days.

Kendall and Gia shared a look, the unspoken pain of watching their partner literally crumble before them.

“Try to get some more sleep, baby, we won’t leave you,” Gia promised, guiding them all down to a laying position so that Synthia was sandwiched in the middle for warmth knowing he got so cold so easily these days.

It didn’t take Synthia long to fall back asleep, Kendall and Gia staying up longer to watch over him, silence shared between the two but they both knew what the other was thinking, that they both hated watching Synthia struggle so much. Both were hopeful but it was so hard to feel hopeful all the time but it was cinfoetung to know the other felt the same.

#prompt request #sick verse

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annaraebananawriter · 4 years ago

Text

1: Just a Bad Dream; Dying in LA

PLEASE READ NOTE BEFORE STORY:

Yellow everyone! I just wanted to warn you that I’m still kind of recovering from burning myself out, so don’t expect anything too awesome this week. I think Day 1 is actually the best that I’ve written for it, so far, so...It’s really just for me to stretch my muscles out again and get back into the flow.

With that said, this is Dy 1 of Dark Cream Week by @zu-is-here

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV

Characters: Shattered Dream (Who belongs to Galacii), Cross (Who belongs to Jakei) and mentioned Nightmare (who belongs to Joku)

Pairings: For now, implied Cream/Dark Cream

Warnings: I can’t remember, so let me know!

Word Count: 2096

~oOo~

The moment you arrived

They built you up

The sun was in your eyes

You couldn't believe it

~oOo~

They say that fate determines how you end up in life.

They say that destiny determines what you do in life.

These two things work in harmony with each other, one influencing the other around and around in a never-ending circle. Everyone was touched by them before they were born, the seed for skills necessary to succeed planted in them, waiting to be grown. No matter what happens, nothing pushes you away from what fate and destiny have determined for you.

It does not matter if your actions are good. If you give everything away and help everyone you come across. If you love your friends and family and strangers unconditionally. If you ignore yourself in favor of others.

It does not matter if your actions are bad. If you spit and sneer at everyone around you. If you yell and hit in anger and hate. If you hold your needs in front of everyone else and ignore those who should have just a little bit of attention too.

It simply does not matter.

Your fate and destiny have been determined already.

Why bother changing it?

~oOo~

Riches all around

You're walking

Stars are on the ground

You start to believe it

~oOo~

Cross was familiar with loss and guilt. When you kill your family and friends, try to delete other worlds, you tend to do so out of pain, driven only by a desperate hope that you can fix what you’ve done. But you can’t. Actions have consequences and the world will not let you go without them. He knows this well, almost too well.

Nothing stops the hurt, though. He’s tried. It was still there, stinging through every bandage and healing balm. If it shrunk, it only grew stronger. Other people tried to help as well, but their efforts were also in vain. Guilt comes from the loss that his actions have caused and that guilt causes this pain that will always be there, no matter how small and weak it eventually becomes.

This was his consequence. He’s learned to accept that now.

He’s learned to walk through the hurt and try and be better.

It was hard, yes. Stumbling and tripping over his feet, hesitant to make any decision lest it be the wrong one and reset his progress. There were many times where he thought that he’d stepped over the line and that they were going to quit on him, leaving him alone again. But they didn’t. They stayed, and the stumbling smoothed out to captiousness, the hesitance smoothed into nervousness. He would not be as confident as he once was, not for a while yet, but it was a start.

He was trying. That’s all that mattered.

And now he can stand on a hill, look into the blue sky and see the colours surrounding him and he can smile. A small, serene smile made of pure content, pride for himself. He can relax his shoulders and just breathe for a moment or two.

Everything was getting better.

Until he looks to his left and see yet another consequence to his newer actions, what his pained words snarled in a patient yet hurt smiling face.

Until Dream takes that step off the edge.

~oOo~

Every face along the boulevard

Is a dreamer just like you

~oOo~

“Don’t touch me! Just…just stop trying to help!”

“I lost my entire family, my home, and he gave me the hope that I could get it back. Why should I believe that you’re not just giving me the exact same false hope?”

“Some guardian you are…”

“You don’t know anything about what I’ve been through!”

But Dream did, Cross realized it now.

Dream had lost his family, his home, too, in the blink of an eye. Not only that, but he was put in a position to fight his brother, whom had changed so much he might as well’ve been a stranger, over and over again. The pressure to do that and still be happy, or at least act like it, must’ve been immense. Cross couldn’t begin to imagine it.

They had both lost their family and been hurt in very similar ways.

Cross just wished he realized this sooner.

~oOo~

You looked at death in a tarot card

And you saw what you had to do

~oOo~

Cross didn’t try to stop Nightmare as he ran away.

He was focused on the skeleton in pain in front of them. The one who was crying, black sludge spilling down and covering his bones, tinted gold as if in reminder of what it used to be. The one who reached a hand up, to try and stop his brother from leaving, but didn’t get far before dropping it to the ground, another pained noise escaping him.

Cross was frozen. He willed his legs to move, instinct in his mind saying to turn and run away too, away from danger, away from him. But he didn’t. He stayed put, legs not listening and just watched.

Underneath the instinct was a different kind of pain. It burned instead of stinging and left his soul aching in a way he had never felt before. He was suddenly all too aware of the ring he kept in his pocket, one the skeleton in front of him had turned down. It made a lump grow in his throat and he swallowed, clenching his hands.

Dream hunched over, arms wrapped around himself.

And all at once, Cross realized something.

If his words had had any part in leading up to this…

His legs finally moved and he rushed forward, reaching for Dream, for the one he held so close to his heart, wrapping his arms around him, even though he could not shield him from something within.

If his actions had this consequence, if his consequence had given up on himself, then he would have to be the one that stayed, that brought him back.

He’ll do it, or die in the process.

~oOo~

But nobody knows you now

When you're dying in LA

And nobody owes you now

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

If fate and destiny have predetermined your story, then what does it matter how you act? If your good or bad, what does it matter? What does it matter if all your actions just bring you back to the path, no matter how far you try and stray from it?

What does anything matter?

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Good can be bad and bad can be good.

This is a fact.

But does it change anything?

What does it matter?

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

“I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t you see that I’m just like you?”

“Why do we have to be enemies?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry”

“Please…don’t leave me alone again…”

“I love you.”

~oOo~

The power, the power, the power

Oh the power, the power, the power

Of LA

~oOo~

Good is bad and bad is good.

What will change because of this?

~oOo~

Nights at the chateau

Trapped in your sunset bungalow

You couldn't escape it

~oOo~

Dream is familiar with emptiness and betrayal. He’s watched his home burn, his mother cut in half and his brother metaphorically die. All of these were caused by the villagers, people Dream once believed to be his friend, no matter how harsh they might’ve been at times. When you see everyone you care about die by the hands of someone you also care about, that is what causes the emptiness.

This emptiness did not mean he didn’t feel, no. He felt quite a lot actually. Happiness, grief, calmness, anger…love…he felt them all, some more so than others. They weren’t smothered or dulled in anyway by the emptiness. No, the emptiness was rather just a numbness he’s gained to certain situations. He can’t change it.

It was his consequence. He accepts this.

He hasn’t accepted fighting his brother nonstop until one of them is dead.

It was disorienting when he started, almost like he was trying to wake on quicksand and every step he took only dragged him further down. Everything was new. He had to learn fast how to shoot a bow, how to dodge, how to block, how to run. How to survive. All while his brother watched and laughed in amusement.

That was what hurt most of all. The amusement. Brothers were supposed to care for each other, help each other stay safe and heal from injuries. They weren’t supposed to laugh at you while you barely dodged the tentacle aiming for your soul. They aren’t supposed to be trying to kill you at all.

He hated it.

~oOo~

Yeah

~oOo~

Apples are dangerous. They’re enticing. You want to take a bite of it, regardless of the effects it’ll do to your body and soul, in what ways it’ll warp your mind. They beckon you and lure you in, until all you can think about is what it’ll taste like, that savoury bite.

Nightmare wasn’t able to resist this temptation.

And if the saying goes that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…

Then it should only make sense Dream would follow in his footsteps.

~oOo~

Drink of paradise

They told you put your blood on ice

You're not gonna make it

~oOo~

Nightmare ran away from him.

The coward.

Dream doesn’t understand why. Brothers should support brothers when they decide to become better, to change how the world sees them, to try and prove they can’t be all good. They shouldn’t run, horror etched on their face as if this wasn’t supposed to happen, that he’d made such a terrible mistake.

“You can’t make mistakes, you’re positivity! You have to be perfect all the time.”

He runs his hands over each other, taking in the new coating of sludge while he waits for Cross, his lov—subordinate to wake up. It was just like Nightmare’s, the same consistency and everything, though his had a golden tint to it, rather than turquoise.

Of course.

Even corrupted, he was still positivity.

~oOo~

Every face along the boulevard

Is a dreamer just like you

~oOo~

He felt stronger. But weaker at the same time.

Was that a thing?

He felt like he could bend people to his will, make them listen just like he wants the entire multiverse to. He can’t stop thinking about people crying as he plays out illusion upon illusion in front of them, slowly dwindling their hope and love and any other positivity until it was completely shattered.

And yet, he can’t help but get the feeling that there’s a shakiness within him. Something is unbalanced, wobbling in his soul. It feels poisoned. He has no clue what it could be. He did everything the right way, he’s proven his worth, so everything should be fine now, right?

Everything was fine.

It had to be.

~oOo~

You looked at death in a tarot card

And you saw what you had to do

~oOo~

Cross groaned behind him, making Dream perk up. “…Night…mare?”

Were they really that similar now? Interesting. The thought that his brother and him can never stop being twins makes Dream giggle under his breath as he turns, smiling as Cross’s eyes widen.

“Not quite.”

~oOo~

But nobody knows you now

When you're dying in LA

And nobody owes you now

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Fate and destiny are predetermined things…but they are not a gift, no.

They are a curse.

Bad gets jealous of good and tries to prove he can be just the same as his counterpart, but only succeeds in cursing himself farther. Good is hurt by this and centuries go by.

Good gets desperate, nothing enough anymore, so he tries to prove tat he can be just the same as his counterpart, both succeeding and failing. He’s cursed himself, too.

Bad runs away, leaving good.

And now they’ve both strayed from their path.

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Good is bad and bad is good.

Or are they?

How can we tell? Who are we to say?

They will determine that for themselves, who is who.

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

“…are you crying?”

“Don’t stop.”

“It feels amazing!”

~oOo~

The power, the power, the power

Oh, the power, the power, the power

~oOo~

Fate has bended and destiny is broken.

How will this change things?

~oOo~

Of LA

#my writing #my fanfiction #oneshot #utmv #dream sans #shattered dream sans #shattered dream #cross #implied cream/dark cream #dark cream #mentioned nightmare sans #dark cream week

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swanlake1998 · 4 years ago

Link

Article: Five Pioneering Black Ballerinas: ‘We Have to Have a Voice’

Date: June 17, 2021

By: Karen Valby

These early Dance Theater of Harlem stars met weekly on Zoom — to survive the isolation of the pandemic and to reclaim their role in dance history.

Last May, adrift in a suddenly untethered world, five former ballerinas came together to form the 152nd Street Black Ballet Legacy. Every Tuesday afternoon, they logged onto Zoom from around the country to remember their time together performing with Dance Theater of Harlem, feeling that magical turn in early audiences from skepticism to awe.

Life as a pioneer, life in a pandemic: They have been friends for over half a century, and have held each other up through far harder times than this last disorienting year. When people reached for all manners of comfort, something to give purpose or a shape to the days, these five women turned to their shared past.

In their cozy, rambling weekly Zoom meetings, punctuated by peals of laughter and occasional tears, they revisited the fabulousness of their former lives. With the background of George Floyd’s murder and a pandemic disproportionately affecting the Black community, the women set their sights on tackling another injustice. They wanted to reinscribe the struggles and feats of those early years at Dance Theater of Harlem into a cultural narrative that seems so often to cast Black excellence aside.

“There’s been so much of African American history that’s been denied or pushed to the back,” said Karlya Shelton-Benjamin, 64, who first brought the idea of a legacy council to the other women. “We have to have a voice.”

They knew as young ballet students that they’d never be chosen for roles like Clara in “The Nutcracker” or Odette/Odile in “Swan Lake.” They were told by their teachers to switch to modern dance or to aim for the Alvin Ailey company if they wanted to dance professionally, regardless of whether they felt most alive en pointe.

Arthur Mitchell was like a lighthouse to the women. Mitchell, the first Black principal dancer at the New York City Ballet and a protégé of the choreographer George Balanchine, had a mission: to create a home for Black dancers to achieve heights of excellence unencumbered by ignorance or tradition. Ignited by the assassination of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., he founded Dance Theater of Harlem in 1969 with Karel Shook.

Lydia Abarca-Mitchell, Gayle McKinney-Griffith and Sheila Rohan were founding dancers of his new company with McKinney-Griffith, 71, soon taking on the role of its first ballet mistress. Within the decade, Shelton-Benjamin and Marcia Sells joined as first generation dancers.

Abarca-Mitchell, 70, spent her childhood in joyless ballet classes but never saw an actual performance until she was 17 at the invitation of Mitchell, her new teacher. “I’ll never forget what Arthur did onstage” she said of his Puck in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” at New York City Ballet during a Tuesday session in January. “He made the ballet so natural. Suddenly it wasn’t just this ethereal thing anymore. I felt it in my bones.”

Marcia Sells, 61, remembered being 9 and watching with mouth agape when Abarca-Mitchell, McKinney-Griffith and Rohan performed with Dance Theater in her hometown, Cincinnati. “There in front of me were Black ballerinas,” Sells said during a video call in April. “That moment was the difference in my life. Otherwise I don’t think it would’ve been possible for me to think of a career in ballet.”

Shelton-Benjamin left her Denver ballet company, where she was the only Black dancer, turning down invitations from the Joffrey Ballet and American Ballet Theater, after reading a story about Dance Theater of Harlem in Dance magazine. Abarca-Mitchell was on that issue’s cover — the first Black woman to have that honor. At her Harlem audition, Shelton-Benjamin witnessed company members hand-dying their shoes and ribbons and tights to match the hues of their skin. Here, no traditional ballet pink would interrupt the beauty of their lines. “I had never seen a Black ballerina before, let alone a whole company,” Shelton-Benjamin, 64, said during a February Zoom meeting. “All I could think was, ‘Where have you guys been?’”

Finding one another back then, at the height of the civil rights movement, allowed them to have careers while challenging a ballet culture that had been claimed by white people. “We were suddenly ambassadors,” Abarca-Mitchell said. “And we were all in it together.”

They traveled to American cities that presented such a hostile environment that Mitchell would cancel the performance the night of, lest his company feel disrespected. But they also danced for kings and queens and presidents. In 1979, a review in The Washington Post declared their dancing to be a “purer realization of the Balanchinean ideal than anyone else’s.” Their adventures offstage were similarly electric, like the night in Manchester when Mick Jagger invited them out on the town. “We walked into the club with him and everybody just moved out of the way,” Shelton-Benjamin said.

Cultural memory can be spurious and shortsighted. Abarca-Mitchell was the first Black prima ballerina for a major company, performing works like Balanchine’s “Agon” and “Bugaku” and William Dollar’s “Le Combat” to raves. In an April Zoom session she said she first realized how left out of history she was when her daughter went online to prove to a friend that her mother was the first Black prima ballerina. But all she found was the name Misty Copeland, hailed as the first. “And my daughter was so mad. She said: ‘Where’s your name? Where’s your name?’ It was a wake-up call.”

While Abarca-Mitchell paused to wipe her eyes, Shelton-Banjamin stepped in: “I want to echo what Lydia said. There was a point where I asked the women, ‘Did it all really happen? Was I really a principal dancer?’ And Lydia told me: ‘Don’t do that! Yes, you were. We’re here to tell you, you were.”

Sells went on to a career that included serving as the dean of Harvard Law School, until she left this year to become the Metropolitan Opera’s first chief diversity officer. Shelton-Benjamin is now a jeweler who recently became certified in diamond grading. She, along with Abarca-Mitchell, McKinney-Griffith and Rohan, continue to coach and teach dance. They all have families, including another grandchild on the way for McKinney-Griffith, who announced the happy news to whoops on a recent call.

But they are done swallowing a mythology of firstness that excludes them, along with fellow pioneers like Katherine Dunham, Debra Austin, Raven Wilkinson, Lauren Anderson and Aesha Ash. It’s true that Misty Copeland is American Ballet Theater’s first Black female principal. It is also true that she stands on the shoulders of the founding and first generation dancers at Dance Theater. A narrative that suggests otherwise, Sells said, “Simply makes ballet history weak and small.”

Worse, it perpetuates the belief that Blackness in ballet is a one-off rather than a continuing fact. And it suggests a lonely existence for dancers like Copeland, a world absent of peers. “We could’ve been Misty’s aunties,” Abarca-Mitchell said. “I wish she was part of our sisterhood, that’s all.”

Dance Theater saved them from being the only one in a room. The work was so hard, the expectations so high, the mission so urgent, that those early days demanded a familial support system among the dancers. “Someone would take you under their wing and say, ‘You’re my daughter or sister or brother,’” McKinney-Griffith said. “The men did it also. Karlya was my little sister, and we kept that through the years.”

Like in any family, the relationships are complicated. The women speak of feeling shut out of today’s Dance Theater of Harlem. They are rarely brought in for workshops or consultations on the ballets they were taught by Mitchell. At his memorial service in 2018, they wept in the pews unacknowledged. “We’re like orphans,” Rohan said with a laugh in a Zoom session. “If the outside world neglects us, it seems all the more reason that Dance Theater of Harlem should embrace us.”

Virginia Johnson, a fellow founding member, is now the company’s artistic director. She assumed the helm in 2013 when Dance Theater returned after an eight-year hiatus caused by financial instability. “It makes me sad to think that they feel excluded,” Johnson said in a phone interview. “And it’s not because I don’t want them. It’s just because I can’t manage. I’ve probably missed some chances but it’s not like I haven’t thought about the value of what they bring to the company. They are the bodies, the soul, the spirit of Dance Theater of Harlem.”

“We all think about and love and respect what Arthur Mitchell did,” she added, “but these are the people he worked with to make this company.”

By the end of May, the five members of the 152nd Street Black Ballet Legacy were fully vaccinated. They traveled from Denver, Atlanta, Connecticut, South Jersey and, in Sells’s case, five blocks north of Dance Theater of Harlem for a joyful reunion. So much is different now at the building on 152nd Street. The old fire escape in Studio 3 where they’d catch their breath or wipe tears of frustration is gone. So are the big industrial fans in the corners of the room, replaced by central air conditioning. But they can still feel their leader all around them in the room. Crying, Abarca-Mitchell told McKinney-Griffith, “I miss Arthur.” (Though they all laugh when imagining his response to their legacy council. “I do believe he would try to control us,” Rohan said. “’What are you doing now? Why are you doing that? Let me suggest that. …’”)

The body remembers. In Studio 3, all Shelton-Benjamin had to do was hum a few notes of Balanchine’s “Serenade” and say “and” for the women to grandly sweep their right arms up. “These women help validate my worth,” Abarca-Mitchell said afterward. “I don’t want to take it for granted that people should recognize Lydia Abarca. But when I’m with them I feel like I felt back then. Important.”

Even as the world reopens and they grow busy again, they’ll carry on with their Tuesday afternoons. They want to amplify more alumni voices. They dream of launching a scholarship program for young dancers of color. This fall, they’ll host a webinar in honor of the director and choreographer Billy Wilson, whose daughter Alexis was also part of Dance Theater.

“What we have is a spiritual connection,” said Rohan, who turns 80 this year. She was 27 when she joined the company, already married and hiding from Mitchell that she was a mother of three young children for fear it get her kicked out. When she eventually confessed a year later, he got mad, insisting he would have increased her salary if he’d known she had mouths to feed.

“Arthur planted a seed in me, and all these beautiful women helped it grow,” she said. “Coming from Staten Island, I was just a country girl from the projects. My first time on a plane was to go to Europe to dance on those stages. I thanked God every day for the experience. This year, coming together again, I remembered how much it all meant to me. I didn’t have to be a star ballerina. It was enough that I was there. I was there. I was there.”

#article #ballet #the ny times #marcia sells #sheila rohan #gayle mckinney griffith #karlya shelton-benjamin #lydia abarca #virginia johnson

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everamazingfe · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet Dreams

Fic Summary: Prompt: Jeremy wakes up one day and he's married to Michael, two kids included. He has no idea how he got there and is struggling a Lot, but... he's also weirdly not unhappy about it? An anonymous prompt request for a fic based on Jeremy's dream he mentioned in Stoneblock.

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Words in this fic: 2256 Pairings: Jeremy/Michael Warnings for this chapter: None

Notes: Click the content source to go read it over on A03!

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Jeremy woke up.

It wasn't an abnormal way to start a day, but it certainly felt abnormal to him. Without opening his eyes, he could tell that this wasn't his bed, or his blankets, or his bedroom, but at the same time... It was.

"Asshole, get up! You're gonna miss breakfast" a voice said, giving his shoulder a shove.

Jeremy grunted in surprise at the sudden disturbance, but he opened his eyes slowly after rubbing the sleep away from them. "Michael?" he asked, shocked to see his friend standing over him.

"Who the hell else would it be?" the man asked, stammering in disbelief before he continued on. He almost looked offended by the question. "C'mon, get up. The kids are gonna eat everything before we even get a bite if you don't get a move on."

Kids? Jeremy didn't have kids, did he? That would definitely be something he was sure about, but he wasn't. Regardless, he followed the order and got up, rubbing his eyes again tiredly. It felt so strange, but at the same time it all felt routine. He followed Michael down the stairs, his body moving on instinct as a toddler came barreling into his legs, scooping her up before they could actually crash into his knees and get hurt. The last thing they needed were tears this morning.

"Daddy said you were being a lazy bones," she chattered as Jeremy scooped her up, and another small giggle came from another room.

"That's not actually what I said," Michael responded as he entered the kitchen, plating up some food as coffee brewed on the counter beside him. "I said you were being a lazy sack of sh-"

"-No! No swearing!" the child in Jeremy's arms shouted, quickly clamping her hands over Jeremy's ears as if he'd never heard Michael swear before. "You'll have to pay a dollar if he hears you!"

He almost felt like he wasn't in control of his own body, or in control of his own thoughts. The knowledge in his head wasn't his, but somehow it had ended up there anyway. He knew that the child in his arms was named Jenna, and the one giggling from the table was named Lizzy. He knew what they liked and disliked, what made them cry, what stories they liked to be read before bed at night. But how did he know all that?

"Jeremy?" Michael asked, walking over to take Jenna from the other man when she started to squirm but Jeremy didn’t set her down. "Are you alright? You seem kinda out of it." It wasn't like they'd been drinking the night before, yet Jeremy was acting like he did when he was hungover. Disoriented and slow to move, staring into space until an outside force made him move. A frown settled on Michael's face as he set Jenna down at the table, bringing the two girls their plates of food and turning on the television so they'd be distracted.

Jeremy shrugged, wordlessly making himself a cup of coffee and stirring the sugar in slow. "I don't know... I feel out of it," he answered, letting out a soft sigh as he lifted the cup to take a sip. This felt right, at least. Some true familiarity to ground him. "I think I'm gonna skip breakfast, I don't really feel hungry.”

That only made Michael's frown deepen, but he wasn't going to force him to eat. "Okay... If you're sure," he said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek and reaching around to give his butt a pinch. "We're talking more later, though."

Jeremy groaned internally, but he didn't voice his protest. That would just annoy or concern Michael even more than he already had. “Fine.” He walked out of the kitchen to go out to the living room, settling on the couch with his coffee, taking big sips in an effort to feel more awake. It didn’t work.

Trying to sort through everything that was happening only seemed to make Jeremy’s head ache, but he couldn’t keep going in his dazed and confused state. He had to feel real again.

He didn’t remember getting married to Michael or adopting kids, even though he remembered a wedding and the very long adoption process. The moments were in his brain, but they didn’t feel like they actually involved him. There were photos around the house of himself, Michael, and the two kids, proof he’d been there for those moments and for other small moments as well.

Maybe he’d hit his head last night? Slipped and fallen and knocked himself on the head so hard that he just forgot… All of his life with Michael? He reached a hand up to his head, feeling over the skin for a bump or a bruise or a cut, finding nothing. Besides, if he had, Michael would probably have chided him for it.

Jeremy sighed heavily, setting his coffee cup down and scrubbing his hands over his face. He’d just have to talk to Michael. Maybe he’d know what to do. Or he’d send him off to the hospital for being crazy, but part of him felt like he’d be okay with it if that ended up being the solution.

After breakfast, Michael helped the girls get dressed and took them to daycare. Usually that was Jeremy’s job, apparently, but they both agreed that he wasn’t in any state to be driving, especially with their kids in the car. When Michael returned from the short trip, Jeremy was still on the couch staring into the space ahead of him, and he stood in front of him with his arms crossed.

“So what’s your problem today?” The bluntness caught Jeremy off guard some, but it also helped pull him out of his state enough to look at Michael instead of through him.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“No! It’s not! I really don’t know!” He didn’t know why he was shouting. It was more out of frustration with himself than it was with Michael. “I don’t know what my problem is, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“So, what? You’re just… Ignoring the girls now? They seemed so sad in the car, apparently you’re not the fun dad anymore. You’ve always been the fun dad!”

Jeremy struggled to find the words to explain what he was dealing with. “This is going to sound awful. I know it is,” he muttered, leaning forward and putting his face in his hands as he collected his thoughts. Then, he sat up and met Michael’s eyes. “They don’t feel like my kids. This doesn’t feel like my house, or my life. I feel like I just got… Pulled out of my actual life and put here, with all the memories and routines and instincts of whoever I replaced.”

Michael’s face softened then, all the anger in his eyes fading away as he moved to sit next to Jeremy and wrap his arms around him. He leaned into the other without any hesitation, just letting himself be held. “Jeremy…” His voice was full of sympathy, and he gave the other lad a squeeze.

“I know. It sounds terrible. But I feel like my mind is just a total fog.” He let out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “When I woke up this morning, I was scared because I didn’t know where I was. But you were there, and it kind of all felt familiar, and that made things a little less scary, but then… It just felt like something else was moving me, because I wouldn’t know what to do otherwise.” Like a doll being played with.

Michael didn’t really know what to say, but he dropped an arm from around Jeremy to dig his phone from his pocket. After sending a quick text, he tossed it onto the coffee table and wrapped up Jeremy in his arms again. “Okay… First of all, we’re not going to work. No, you don’t get to argue with me right now. We’re not going,” he stated firmly, laying back on the couch with Jeremy on top of him. “We’re gonna try and get you sorted out before we have to pick the girls back up, I can’t handle the pressure of being the good dad.”

That made Jeremy chuckle softly, and after only a moment of hesitation did he let himself melt into Michael. Whatever discomforts and fears he may have had, Michael clearly didn’t have the same, so he just let the other take the lead.

A good part of the rest of the morning was spent on the couch. They stayed there, laying together like that for a few hours until the couch began to make their backs ache. Then they sat together, side by side as they played some shitty game that didn’t require much thinking together. The co-op was terrible, and the player-versus-player stuff was even worse, but the more Michael yelled the more at home Jeremy seemed to feel. It was like it was jarring his brain back into place.

They took a break for lunch, ordering what seemed like far too much food from McDonalds, but once they got their hands on it it barely managed to last. Food helped him some more too, and slowly Jeremy began to feel like this was his life and it was where he belonged. After lunch they played some more games together, this time deciding to play something that they both enjoyed.

By the time it was time to pick the girls up from daycare, Jeremy felt whole again. He and Michael still agreed that he shouldn’t drive, but he was still going to go with him to pick them up. He’d let them all down that morning, and he intended to make up for it. The afternoon into the evening was spent as usual it felt like, Michael picking away at achievement in some other game as the girls alternated between pestering him and making Jeremy draw with them. The fridge was adorned with many more drawings by the time they got bored of paper and decided to draw on Jeremy’s head instead.

“We’re gonna need more magnets,” he remarked, his head stuck into the sink as Michael used a washcloth to try and get the marker off. It wasn’t really working, he’d already resigned himself to wearing a hat to work tomorrow anyway.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, a small smirk playing across his lips. “Do we really? Or are you finally going to let me take your drawings down from there to make room for more by the real artists in the family?”

“Hey! You’re not allowed to take my drawings off the fridge, that’s a communal gallery space. You buy so much random shit off Amazon, adding some magnets to your cart shouldn’t be that big of a pain in the ass.”

“But Jeremy, it’s so much work. I have to type magnets in the search bar, and then actually click to put them in my cart! It’s so much effort,” Michael whined, laughing widely when Jeremy snatched the washcloth from his hands to smack him with it. The water splashed them both, but it left a wet mark on Michael’s shirt sleeve.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you.”

In the evening, Jeremy and Michael cooked dinner together with some ‘help’ from the girls. Jenna mimicked the way that Michael bossed Jeremy around the kitchen, echoing his orders and trailing behind him to make sure they were completed. Each time he looked for Michael for help, he was simply laughed at, and that was also mimicked. In the living room, Lizzy cooked up some side dishes to go with dinner at her kitchen playset. The kitchen was too noisy for her.

Dinner was pleasant once the cooking of it was done, and Jeremy washed the dishes while Michael got the girls ready for bed. Then, it was story time. The girls had separate rooms, and Michael read to Lizzy while Jeremy read to Jenna. Both were fast asleep before they even got halfway through the books, but they still read them through just in case they were faking it. Most of the time, they were. With the girls asleep in their beds, Jeremy and Michael went off to their room to do the same.

“You feeling better?” Michael asked from the bathroom as he brushed his teeth, sticking his head through the doorway to eye Jeremy as he changed.

He nodded, flipping the other off when he whistled as he watched Jeremy change out of his jeans into sweats. “Yeah, thank god. That was really fucking scary. I don’t know what was wrong with me.”

Michael hummed, dipping back into the bathroom, finishing up in there before coming back out. He wrapped his arms around Jeremy, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Good, cause I was scared too. You’re not allowed to do that shit ever again, got it?”

“Got it.” The promise was sincere, and Michael seemed satisfied with it.

They crawled into bed, and once again Jeremy was wrapped up in Michael’s arms. It felt right. It felt like home. The other was the first to fall asleep, but Jeremy wasn’t far behind, comforted by the sound of his steady breathing and the feel of his heartbeat. Sleep didn’t normally come easy to him, but after how the day had worn him out, it wasn’t hard for him to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

And then, Jeremy woke up.

#ragehappy #rpf #jeremchael #jeremichael #fic #fanfic #my writing #everamazingfe #prompt request #oneshot #oneshots

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basura2319 · 4 years ago

Text

Take A Break

(Gif credit)

Pairing: Jango Fett x reader

Requested by: anonymous

Anonymous said:

“Hi! Can I request Jango x reader fluff? Your writing is really good!”

WC: 1.9k

Warnings: slight angst but fluff overall

A/N: I’m sorry for the lack of uploads guys. I hope whoever requested this likes it!

The annoying blare of the chronometer was what had awoken you and Jango from your peaceful slumber.

You buried yourself further into the covers as if that would block out the noise.

“Jango, turn it off!” you whined.

You heard a grunt, then the blaring stopped.

You sighed contently and closed your eyes.

“Seriously?” Jango’s voiced, the sleep still imminent in his voice. He gently pulled the covers off of you to reveal you, glaring at his disruption. “What? Is this the ‘good morning’ I get from you?”

You closed your eyes and smirked at him. “Yes, because you woke me up.”

He placed both hands on your hip to pull you in forward, making you jolt. “It’s my turn to retrieve the bounty, remember?” he said stated.

It’s true. You both had to take turns leaving Kamino for your bounty hunting endeavors, while one of you stayed behind with little Boba. You didn’t understand why you both had to do this. Jango received a huge sum of fortune for being the clone-template for the Kaminoans; enough credits so he would never have to work for the rest of his days. All those years partnering with him just goes to show how Jango was a man who always needed something to do. A man always on the move. You, on the other hand, were the same, but you also believed in taking breaks from this profession too.

Your lips formed into a pout. “I know.” Your gaze traveled to the fine lines on his face from all his years of fighting.

“I sometimes wish you could take a break from all this,” you said solemnly, tracing patterns over his face.

He said nothing, just took your hand that was touching his face and began to kiss along the pads of your fingers.

“I need to get ready,” was all he said before getting out of your shared bedroom.

You stayed on your bed for a few seconds before getting up to use the refresher. After checking up on Boba, who was still sound asleep (lucky him) you ventured into your kitchen to make breakfast.

You gathered your ingredients and commenced your cooking. Pancakes seemed like something to brighten up your disheartened mood. Not to mention, your little Boba would appreciate them too.

Taking the already prepped batter, you poured a good, almost even amounts onto the griddle.

“Pancakes?” you heard Jango say behind you.

“Pancakes,” you nodded, taking note that he was already in his armor. You looked away wistfully and flipped the pancakes with your spatula.

He saw your clear disappointment at his departure and his chest crept with guilt. Of course he felt bad that he had to leave you and his son behind while he made some credits, but it was grained in him since the beginning of his bounty hunting career to work non-stop. You were a notorious bounty hunter too, but he knew that there would come a day when you would be ready to cast it all aside and live a quiet life. With him of all people. Jango was aware that he had to set his bounty hunting ways aside someday. It was the question of when that day would come.

He stood behind you, setting both hands on your hips and brushed his lips over the nape of your neck.

“You’re mad at me,” he pressed a kiss below your ear.

You shivered slightly at the feeling but continued to flip the pancakes. “No.”

He could tell you were lying by the tone of your response.

You moved away from his grasp to fetch a plate for him, then handed him his breakfast.

“Thank you cyar’ika,” he said, giving you a peck on the lips before taking the plate from you.

You gave him a small smile before serving yourself.

You both sat there, making small talk about the bounty he was going to after.

“How long will you be gone,” you said while adding more syrup to your pancakes.

Jango reached over to touch your hand in a feather-light motion.

“If everything goes right, I should be back in a week,” he stated, watching your reaction.

You nodded, expressionless. “Okay.”

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up again.

“I’m going to say good-bye to Boba,” he let go of your hand to move.

You took yours and his empty plate and placed it into the sink to wash later.

Moments later, Jango came into the kitchen carrying his four-year-old son, who was half awake.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” you swept your hand over his curls, kissing his forehead.

“G’morning,” he said dreamily, rubbing the sleep of his eyes.

Jango smiled softly at his little family, regretting having to leave behind moments like these.

“Buir has to go to work ad’ika,” Jango said, giving him to you to carry.

“Why?” his small voice quavered, and his brown eyes gleaned with unshed tears.

“I’ll be back,” he hugged you both. “Behave towards (Y/N), okay?”

Boba replied with an “mhm.”

“I made you pancakes, sweetie,” you said to him to which you saw his the corners of his lips lift into a grin at the mention of pancakes.

“I have to go,” he kissed you both on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Be careful out there,” you wavered. “Come back to us.”

He kissed you again, but this time on your lips. “I will.”

“Bye, daddy!” Boba waved at him, and you sat him on a chair to give him his pancakes.

“Good-bye ad’ika,” you heard him say before the sound of the door opened and shut, leaving you and Boba on your own.

Cutting the pancakes into smaller bits, you gave your little one his food and watched how he devoured it all with a delighted look on his face.

Noticing your far-off look, he slides off his chair to climb onto your lap.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in concern, hugging you with his small arms.

You stared at him, the spitting image of Jango, of course, because he was an exact replica of him and smiled softly at him.

“I just miss your father, little Boba,” you said, soothing his unkempt hair back.

“Me too,” sighed Boba afterward.

The following days were spent trying to entertain Boba, but since it always rained on Kamino, there was nothing the both of you could do except stay inside. However, you did what you could. You made a blanket fort with him, watched holo-movies, read to him, and you even managed to get him to help you with cooking. The Kaminoans would occasionally come knocking on your door to see if everything was alright, or more likely to see if you and Boba weren’t stirring any trouble. Four years living on Kamino, and you got the sense that they didn’t trust you or Jango. The feeling was mutual.

Also, Jango would send you messages over how things were going. He was in the mid rim according to his messages. A long distance from Kamino.

Overall, you and Boba were having fun despite the lingering feeling that you two were missing someone important who should be with you right now.

Entering the living-room, you laughed to yourself as you spotted an exhausted Boba asleep on the couch, clutching his stuffed animal. Poor thing. He was spent from all that running around the house playing a game of tag with you. You picked him up and bought him to his room, changing him into his pajamas before leaving him to sleep undisturbed.

You cleaned up the mess around the apartment, then headed for your room. Yeah, you were also tired from chasing that little maniac around. Kriff, you were getting old, you thought as you stretched out your arms.

A shower later, you hit the covers and your mind, too tired to wonder about anything else, fell into a spiral of dreams.

Not long after Jango returned, entering into a silent home. He put his helmet, weapons, and armor away in his closet before heading to your shared bedroom.

Jango did not want to wake you, so he tried his best to maneuver in the dark. But the lights turned on, revealing you on the bed, aiming your blaster at him.

“Oh,” you mumbled disoriented while setting the weapon at your bedside. “It’s just you.”

Jango looked sheepishly at you. “I was trying not to wake you.”

“I heard rummaging outside, plus I thought you had a few more days until you came home.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I managed to capture the bounty quickly and in good time.”

“Of course you did,” you said, smiling tiredly. You patted the empty side of the bed. “Come to bed, Jango.”

He raised a brow at you. “But I stink.”

“So?” you scoffed. “I want to cuddle with my lover, regardless of how he smells.”

He chuckled softly. “Nah, cyare, I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you huffed, watching him enter the refresher.

“It’ll be quick,” he said, closing the door.

You flopped back onto the bed, your droopy eyes staring up at the ceiling and ears listening to the running water for a time. You heard Jango opening the refresher door, and you sat up, staring at his bronzed chest glistening with droplets of water and his stark black hair tousled in yearning.

“What,” he said, meeting your eyes as he removed his towel to change.

You rested your palm under your cheek. “I missed you.”

He hung his towel to dry and slipped underneath the covers.

You turned off the lights and faced him.

“Come here,” he said, and you sidled into his strong his arms wrapping you close to him. He nuzzled your neck and kissed his way up to meet up with your lips. His lips devoured yours languidly, and you sighed happily.

“I have something to tell you,” he said in-between kisses.

You brushed over his lips one last time before drawing back. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

He cradled the back of your head with his one hand, bringing you in closer to for a keldable kiss.

“Not at all,” his breath fanned over your face.

You raked your hand through his damp hair in the dark. “Okay, so what is it?”

He went silent for a minute. “I was thinking about what you said the other day,” his thumb brushed your cheek. “About taking a break from hunting for a while, and I agree.”

“What?” You echoed.

The thumb brushing your cheek stilled. “I think we don’t have to take turns leaving Kamino to hunt all the time,” he continued. “I thinking taking a break will be good for us, for Boba.”

He couldn’t see your expression in the dark, but he didn’t have to see you for him to know you were looking at him as if he grew a second head.

“Jango? Taking a break from bounty hunting?” You gasped dramatically, clutching his shirt. “What have you done with my lover?”

He pinched your side, and you yelped.

“Ow!” you whined, rubbing where he pinched you. “But seriously though, what brought this on? You’ve never taken breaks.”

“I just want to spend more time with you and Boba,” he replied nonchalantly. “I believe it would do us good.”

You giggled. “I can’t believe I’m hearing you say you want a vacation.”

He tickled your sides, causing you to double over in laughter.

“Stop! You’ll wake up Boba,” you whispered harshly at him as you tried pathetically to push his hands away.

You both held each other in comfortable silence.

“Mon Cala.”

“Hmm?”

He held your hand and kissed your inner wrist. “Let’s go to Mon Cala.”

You rolled on top of him in a flurry of excitement, causing him to grunt at the sudden movement. “Hell yeah!”

Permanent Taglist: (Lmk if you want to be added or removed): @chaotic-noceur @kaminobiwan

#requests #jango fett #jango fett x reader

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closer-stars · 4 years ago

Text

Gut Feeling (1)

Member: San Genre: Fluff??? Slice of Life it’s just light hearted stuff for the most part Requested: Yes Word Count: 4k Content: Reader is starting out as a manager for ATEEZ, food, mentions of injuries. Honestly this is just all over the place since it’s just introducing reader to the group and the job. Note: GOD, i struggled with the starting parts the most... Even went as far as looking at their schedules + making a playlist to have some sort of direction. It’s been way too long since I wrote something so this is Rusty. This happens way before KCON:tact btw lmao. Also I just gave their other managers different last names cause idk their names anyways lol. awkward jazz hands. the next parts will be better i hope aaaa. Proof reading when I wake up bec my laptop is dying already lol. HELLO I FORGOT TO SAY THIS WILL BE CHAPTERED FOR SURE

Three pairs of footsteps echo through the hallway. The male on your left is their manager, Manager Hwang as you would call him, on your right is the CEO. What are you doing here? You’re the new manager who would take care of the eight boys while Manager Hwang next to you attends to personal issues for the next few months or so. From stories of your friends who work in the same field as you, they were surprised the CEO would even assist you as you ease into the new environment. You were surprised too but having to stay on his good side was more important than questioning his actions for the first day.

The two men explain to you where your work space will be first, then the conference rooms, the eating area, and so on. They explain other things that you may need to know immediately and anything else can be asked to the other two managers, Yoon and Bae, who are taking care of preparations for their next promotions, Hwang even steps up to the plate, offering his help. “Are you sure?” You ask carefully. While it is your first time to handle eight boys, you didn’t want to be a burden.

“Positive! The boys can be a handful sometimes but they’re very respectful.” You don’t detect any sense of false sincerity in his words so you nod in thanks. You weren’t sure though on what he meant by sometimes.

The three of you stop outside the dance studio, you can hear pairs of feet hitting the flooring in careful timing. That sounded a lot more than just eight of them. The first one to enter was the CEO, then you were ushered in by their manager. The three of you quietly watch them dance through the song, their choreographer watching at the opposite end of the room. The choreographer notices the new presences in the room and stands up to greet the three of you, followed by the eight who do their signature greeting.

“It’s good to see you boys working hard.” He praises with a small smile. The past few months have hit everyone hard, this upcoming promotion was just one of the ways to make the most out of what can be made. “I’m sure your manager has told you of his upcoming leave for the next few months,” he starts, and the boys softly answer in a chorus of yes and dismayed whines at the reminder. “So I would like to introduce your new manager for the next few months.” His hand places itself on your shoulder and you take that as your cue to introduce yourself to them.

“Hello, I hope we can work together smoothly.” You start, telling them your name then a quick rundown of your work history. You cut to the chase and tell them you’re not that far from their age to avoid any air of awkwardness down the line.

The boys slowly introduce themselves one by one to you, starting with Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung then Jongho. Bless your sharp memory because you manage to remember each and every face to the right name. After the formalities, the CEO takes his leave, to have you and their manager familiarize yourself with the new work environment and requirements. This brings the rest of the boys to go back to their positions in the studio. The choreographer invites the two of you to sit in the front with him to watch them dance. The manager doesn’t give you the chance to say no. “Take this chance to see them in their zone.” You understand what he means so you take the chance, sitting down carefully on the cool floor.

“One doing!” The choreographer says then the music starts. The way they perform the song even in just regular training clothes and bare faces takes your breath away. One minute ago they were just boys in their 20s working hard to reach their dreams, now they’re a whole different person. While you had to take care of these boys and their schedules, you were at awe at their professionalism at such a young age. Soft, youthful features hardened to sharp, dark looks as they practice the song, until they reach the end. You notice that Jongho sits just a little farther from the rest of them but still gives his all in his singing, you can only imagine just how much he misses performing. The only thing that could be heard by the end were the heavy breathings and the claps from you and their manager. The clapping causes them to bow gratefully to the two of you as they catch their breath.

The male looks at his watch then stands up. “Let’s go, I’ll show you where we get their meals.” You bid them goodbye and wish them luck in their practice before following the older male out the studio.

It’s rather a good thing that the place where the boys get their meal plans wasn’t too far from where you were. Regardless, the walk there was filled with the manager telling you stories of ATEEZ being boys and being idols, both types of stories giving you tips of how to handle each boy especially when the stress rings high.

“It’s usually at the height towards the tail end of promotions that they start to wear out, though things are going to be a little different this time considering what we’re going through.” He mumbles, and while his words were muffled by his hushed manner of speaking, it was muffled much more by his mask. You carry four packs of food, and he does the same along with your meals. You already got the calendar of activities of the confirmed activities and some of the days already tire you from the mere thought.

“I’m kind of worried of that honestly.” You admit as you place the containers on the table. The manager looks at his phone for the details per container. He hands you a marker to write each member’s name on each container, while some of them were for all eight of them, the others were for specific members only. Hongjoong’s low tolerance to spicy food stuck to you, reminding you dearly of your best friend. Seonghwa’s brown rice and chicken meal reminds you of your cousin who was conscious of their food intake and so on. Some of the specifics were slipping through your memory, too much to take in that you had to ask him to send the details to your kakao.

“Call the boys over in ten minutes yeah?” The manager says as he looks at the clock, you can see him trying to visualize their schedule for the day.

“Got it!” You return as you look through their schedule for the day: lunch, bring them home to get some rest then back to the studio to practice. You take the chance to ask him about any possible things to deal with but before you could, a voice causes the two of you to look at the source.

“Hi!” It was San greeting the two of you, still breathless from the training.

The manager looks at his phone. “Oh, finished early?” He asks. You take this chance to watch them converse, you are still new to this environment, it would be better to see how things play out first.

“Yeah, Hyung let us off early since we already finished the agenda for today.” San explains as he takes his seat at the sight of food. The other members start to enter the room, relieved by the sight of their meals. You figured that this would be the time where you leave them to eat, while you eat elsewhere. “Manager-nim, haven’t you eaten?” San asks once he notices you turn on your heel.

You look over at the boys when you realize he was talking to you. By surprise, you glance at Hwang, unsure of how to approach this. Usually, you leave the talents alone as they eat, while the rest of the staff eat with each other elsewhere. At least, that’s how it was for you. That was what you were used to so your own hand reaches up to the back of your neck, hesitant. “Yes, I thought it would be better to let you boys be as you eat.” Your reply still carries the polite tone you use among artists, maybe handling some nightmares have ingrained some habits in you.

“Why not eat with us? We’re not scary.” Hongjoong invites you, and when you look over at their manager, already eating with the boys, some of them are already joking around with him. Guess you didn’t really have much of a choice. You slide into the seat in between San and Hongjoong. They ask questions about the artists you’ve handled in the past, your interests and the like, all while making sure to not cross any lines.

“Ah manager-nim, how was it like working there?” San seemed to be most curious about your other work environments. The way he makes himself look so scary as he performs yet becomes an inquisitive kind soul off stage is enough to disorient you.

You give him an amused look as you try to gather your thoughts, looking for the right words. “Well, it was an experience. I’m a lot happier now though.” You let them figure it out from there, you were the last to gossip about previous work experiences anyways. In this industry, word travels fast, a careless slip of the tongue can turn into disastrous proportions.

As you eat with them, you take this chance to observe their mannerisms and relationships with each other. While it is your first day on the job, you had a feeling working with these boys would end up in the books.

--------

The day goes by fast, everything’s settled by now. The last thing Hwang does for you and for the boys was to give the nine of you a ride home. The older male showing the usual path back to the dorms. The rest of the boys are fast asleep in their seats, slouched over one another, exhausted by their rigorous training the past few weeks. One by one they wake up as the car slows to a stop in the parking lot. Of course, San was the last one to wake up so you take up the job to wake him up. It starts with gentle nudges, only getting whines of protest as a response. Hwang and the rest of the boys watch for a few moments, entertained by the idea of San embarrassing himself.

“Yunhooo, just let me sleep..” He mumbles and as he wriggles in his seat, he falls over the empty seat next to him. That’s when he realizes that he’s the only one left in the car, he sits up from his spot, greeted by a wide eyed you, with the rest of the boys watching in amusement. Was Wooyoung taking a video of the entire thing? He unbuckles his seatbelt immediately and picks up his bag, apologizing over and over.

You give way for him to hop over to the rest of his group, and you stare at Hwang. “I’m guessing it’s harder to wake him up in the mornings?”

“He really isn’t a morning person.” He says as he lets the boys enter the elevator first then the two of you. The ride to their floor was a quiet one, though with some giggles from some of the boys as they try to expose one another for their sleep habits to you. You did the same about yourself to ease any shyness from them. That’s one way you gained the trust of the talents you handled in the past: showing that you’re just like them, a human with flaws.

The two managers drop the boys outside their dorm, and they start to become reluctant to enter, reasoning their stubbornness with them missing Hwang soon. “Boys, I promise I’ll be okay.” He reassures much to the pouting and whines from them. He makes it a point as well to tell them to behave especially with the schedule looming around the corner. You knew what that meant: Music Bank special and the KCON:Tact stage.

“Sleep well boys, you guys deserve some rest.” You say, bidding them a good night as you head to your own apartment.

--------

The next few days were routine: wake up, bring them to the company, eat, bring them to the stylists for preparations for their next promotions, back to the company, eat, dorm, sleep, repeat. It’s a bit of relief to know that the boys do their best to make it easy for you, the energy bounces from you to them and vice versa. You had to admit, you’ve come to appreciate them for their work ethic, their professional attitude and the fact they haven’t really lost themselves to the industry. Given that it’s been roughly two years for them, you hope it doesn’t change too soon.

You slip away from the practice room, already on the way to the restaurant down the road to get their lunch. “Ah! Manager Yoon!” You exclaim, surprised to see him already with their food. You rush over to him, relieving him of the struggle of carrying roughly ten meals.

He reasons as you fumble around with a bag. “I was already on my way so I figured I might as well get their meals.”

The two of you then bring the meals up to the kitchen. By now, you’ve already memorized their food preferences and their little habits. Yeosang often fumbles with the tape and tight packaging, Seonghwa’s preference for meat over chicken whenever possible (at least today’s lunch was his cheat meal), San whose appetite seems unreal but makes sense with his regimen. You were relieved knowing they were eating well at least.

As you busy yourself with your own meal, you suddenly feel an arm over your shoulders. “Manager-nim~” The voice sings as the still unknown culprit leans their weight on you. It’s when you look up that you realize it’s San playing with you.

“San, I’m not strong like you..” You wheeze out as you try to keep yourself up as he drapes himself over you. While you know they are eating good, you aren’t quite sure what goes on for them to be this tall. This makes him giggle and get off you, sliding onto the seat next to yours. Some of them trickle into the room, and you make a headcount for the sake of your own peace. “Is Seonghwa still in practice?”

“Yep, he’ll be here in an hour i think.” Wooyoung says before taking a spoonful of his meal.

“His food is going to get cold.” You mumble to no one in particular as you eye the oldest’s meal.

An hour passes by and Seonghwa has yet to appear. San senses your unease, even he’s confused as to what’s taking him so long. Seonghwa’s the last person who would miss meals even because of training. Your phone buzzes, bringing you out of your thoughts.

[ Manager Yoon ] : had to bring Seonghwa to get his injury checked. Hongjoong’s with me. It’s nothing serious, doctor’s just ordering him to not do anything strenuous.

[ You ] : what happened?

[ Manager Yoon ] : injury while doing a dance class. Hongjoong said he’ll be the one to tell the boys.

You read the rest of the messages and sigh softly. There isn’t much to do except make sure Seonghwa gets enough rest and treatment in order to recover in time for their comeback. You do the math; still enough time.

You feel San’s gaze on you and you can already tell what’s on his mind. Words run through your mind and having to find the right ones without being pressed for more questions is a challenge in itself. “It’s just Manager Yoon giving me updates.” Not the entire truth, not an entire lie. Wooyoung had already gone to the gym to work out with Yunho and Jongho, leaving you and San alone. Yeosang and Mingi were in their studios, practicing their vocals for their performances.

“On our schedules?”

“Just wait until he comes.” You say softly, making sure to not leave any room for him to press. He can tell you wanted to tell him of what was happening but you were bound by something. Just then, his phone rings. You had a feeling it was Hongjoong.

[ Hongjoong ] : We’re practicing in the studio until 2AM today. Block changes for our performances on MuBank and KCON.

[ Yunho ] : ??

[ Wooyoung ] : huh?

[ Yeosang ] : what?

[ Mingi ] : what happened?

San raises his eyes and he sees you looking at him. “What happened?” He’s not an idiot, whatever Manager Yoon told you had to be related to why Hongjoong’s telling them they’re staying in the studio until 2AM.

[ Hongjoong ] : Seonghwa can’t dance. Doctor’s orders. Injury isn’t that serious but considering the timeline for our promotions, he needs to recover quickly.

His eyes scan the message, once, twice, until the news sets in. “Do you think he’ll be okay?” He asks. The question didn’t seem to be directed at anyone but you’re the manager. It’s also up to you to stabilize the talents when things go left. “He will be. You guys have gone through a lot together, he’ll recover soon.”

“It feels weird performing without a member already, what more two?”

You couldn’t blame him for his worries. Everything’s been pushed back because of the virus. While you never performed, you understand the worry of a member being missing in action. It just messes up the energy. “As long as you guys practice diligently, you’ll overcome it. I don’t think Seonghwa would want you guys to be held back by worry either…”

This was the tricky part of being a manager. While you are there to well, manage, their schedules and work loads, you also have to be their rock when things get rough.

“Come on, You got a few hours of free time and personal training until tonight’s training.”

He looks at the time, roughly four hours. He can take a nap then head back to the company in time for personal training and tonight’s block changes. With that in mind, he rises from his seat. “Is it possible to bring me back to the dorms?”

“Let’s go then. We can buy some coffee for all of you on the way back here.”

--------

It’s already 11PM. They’ve been revising and fixing the choreography since 6PM. Their dinner would be ready in half an hour. Jongho and Seonghwa sat on the bench with you with a small ice pack against his hip. The discomfort causes him to squirm from time to time. Even in his current situation, he does his best to provide his input to the choreography changes. You had to give him credit for finding ways to keep working. Jongho too provided comments, managing to see things you would’ve missed. You notice Seonghwa’s consistent discomfort in his sitting position. “Hold on.. Stand up a bit?” You ask, offering your arm for him to pull himself up slowly. You quickly rearrange the makeshift pillow for him before letting him sit down again. The relieved whine tells you it works.

[ You ] : Can we buy Seonghwa something soft to sit on for the next few days?

[ Manager Bae ] : already did, don’t worry. It’ll arrive tomorrow in their dorm.

---------

Time passes by quickly and everyone’s in the car, heading back home. Everyone’s fast asleep but you and Jongho. You hear him humming softly behind you and you glance at the rear view mirror for a moment as you carefully drive through the streets. “Not yet sleepy, Jongho?” You ask, making sure your voice doesn’t wake up Hongjoong.

“Not yet… I didn’t get to dance much for today’s rehearsal. It’s going to be like this for the next few days too.” Jongho readjusts his seat, just so he could talk without waking up the others. “How do you find the work though?”

“Work as your manager? Well..” You drift off from your initial thought as you drive carefully through the empty streets. It’s only when you slow down at a red light that you continue. “... It’s doable. I’m not complaining about the workload, it does seem hectic and stressful but it is something I signed up for right?”

The younger male lets out a soft sound of agreement at your words. “You don’t find our energy to be overwhelming?”

“Jongho, I don’t mind it one bit. It makes my work a little more fun.” You return in a light tone. Your word choice makes him chuckle softly. “You guys listen well too. I don’t mind it.” He murmurs his thanks for your kind words, and you let out a soft sing-songy ‘yes’.

---------

A soft sound slips through your lips as you slowly arrive in the parking lot of the apartment complex. “We’re here, guys.” You say as you gently shake Hongjoong awake. Jongho wakes the others up, the members slowly spilling out the van. You were about to check on San when you find him stretching for a moment before hopping out of the car. “I guess you got good sleep for you to wake up with ease.” You joke as you lock the car up.

“I still want my sleep..” He points out with a pout. As you walk with him to the elevator with the rest of the group, they notice that you weren’t making any move to leave. Confusion washes over those who were wide awake now.

“Are you bringing us to our dorm too?” Seonghwa asks, his head tilting in the process.

“Do you want me to…?” You return, the question catching you off guard. “I live here too.. “ You add softly, your fingers fiddling against your sleeve. They seemed to be more exhausted than they show, you clearly remember dropping them off as well outside their dorm with Manager Hwang. The realization sets in and so does the memory.

“Oh crap, right!” Exclaims the youngest, much to the oldest’s mild distaste.

The elevator rings and the doors slide open. It was Hongjoong who made sure all of you fit in the lift, reasoning that being on your own at this hour wasn’t safe. You don’t tell them where your apartment is, wanting to have them get their rest first. No matter how persistent their pleas were, even Mingi pulled some cute antics to get you to cave, but none of them worked. “Guys, I mean it. You guys need more rest than I do.” Once you arrive at their floor, you wave them off. “Now, shoo! Wash up and sleep! It’s the same schedule tomorrow.”

The last they see of you for the day is you pressing a button for your floor and waving them good bye. As they walk down the hall, murmurs about you arise from them. Questions of how they found you, their first impressions, and other questions. None of them were met with pessimism though. In fact, each question was met with optimism and realistic approaches.

“Is it bad I kind of hope they stay for the long run? They seem like they’re cool with things too.” asks Yeosang as they kick off their shoes by the door.

“Nope, I mean she’s able to handle us calmly even when we’re stressing over things.” Seonghwa reminds him.

Hongjoong points out, “Also, the near lack of age gap makes it easier for us to talk with them.” He makes it a point for Seonghwa to shower first. “Anyways, you heard them, same schedule as today for tomorrow.” He quickly catches up to San who was already on his way to his room. “Also, San?”

“Yes?”

“Please, use an alarm. You woke up easy with them earlier but they aren’t living with us...so please… alarm…”

The mentioned male feels his neck burn in embarrassment as he whines in defense. “Yes, Hyung..” He sneaks a look at Yunho with a pleading look in his eyes, a quiet favor for the coming morning.

“I’m still waking you up even with that alarm.”

“I’ll hard carry our team in the next match.”

“Deal.”

---

part 2

#my writings #oh my god i'm writing again #ateez scenarios #ateez san #san scenarios #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfics #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfictions #ateez scenario #uh what else to tag this as #anyways weeks of writer's block + other shit = this mess

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beca-mitchell · 4 years ago

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you can think that you're in love (when you're really just in pain) (1/1)

anonymous said: Imagine a scenario where Beca never emerged from the water after the explosion, and Chloe was eventually brought to land. She stood on the harbour all night and all morning as search and rescue tried to locate her but they never found her. Chloe eventually moved on with Chicago at the urging of her friends and on the day of her wedding, Beca reappears. She was discovered washed up on a nearby shore with amnesia and was nursed back to health. Eventually finding her way back to Chloe.

*posted as text because i have issues w/ the ask/answer format and tagging

Notes: lmao i got carried away and i promise i only intended to respond to this ask in a short concise way, but here’s 1.7k words. title from “moral of the story”.

read below or on AO3.

* * * * *

"Chloe, you can’t stay out here all night.”

It is Chicago’s voice, soft and urgent, that lulls Chloe back into the present moment. Amidst the ringing in her ears, a product of being in such close proximity to an exploding boat. With disappointment, she scans the rippling water—water far too gentle for the turmoil she feels within her own body—to no avail.

Still no sign of Beca.

At this point, she feels increasingly helpless and even more poignant, she feels hopeless—a sentiment she never thought she’d feel when it came to Beca Mitchell. It’s just hard to really feel anything else at the moment because Beca isn’t standing there by her side.

Things had been frantic and unclear when they landed in the water. Chloe’s throat is still sore from both the copious amounts of water she swallowed and how loudly she had screamed for Beca, disoriented by the cold water and the darkness around them. She had felt various pairs of hands on her shoulders and arms—other Bellas to be sure—but she hadn’t felt Beca. And when they all had been pulled ashore eventually, first onto a rescue boat, then to blessed, solid land, Chloe had finally come to the conclusion that they had left Beca behind.

“We didn’t find her,” the search and rescue operations had told them. “We couldn’t find her—we’ll search again in the morning.”

Chloe couldn’t wait for morning.

“Chloe,” Chicago says again.

“We left her behind,” Chloe whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s...” Chicago hesitates when Chloe’s eyes cut to his with warning flaring up in them. “It’s just cold...and dark out there,” he tries. “It’s probably...”

“Stop,” Chloe whispers with a waver in her voice. “She’ll come. She has to.”

* * * * *

(More vivid than ever, a memory floats to the forefront of Chloe’s mind—Beca tentatively rounding the corner, hesitant and wary, showing up late to an acapella try-out. And all Chloe recalls is how relieved she had felt. How comforted. How happy because Beca had made it. Beca had made it and Chloe was happy.)

* * * * *

She doesn’t make it. She doesn't come. She doesn't wash ashore in some grand scene. Chloe doesn't sweep Beca into her arms and kiss her until the morning comes.

It's just...nothing.

* * * * *

It is incredible to Chloe how it only takes a few days to declare somebody missing when that person has a vibrant two—almost three—decades of life behind them. Life that Chloe was only so fortunate to share in for a brief period. Too short a period.

It is incredible how the words “legally missing” mean nothing and everything at the same time.

* * * * *

“Are you going to stay out here all night?”

Aubrey’s voice, soft and sincere, cuts through Chloe’s thoughts.

“What’s that?” Chloe murmurs, shaking some of the faint rushing from her head. It reminds her of waves gently rolling against an empty shore bringing her nothing but dashed dreams and disappointments.

"I asked if you're going to stay out here all night," Aubrey prompts again.

A part of Chloe wishes she could. It had felt remarkably draining to have to smile and accept congratulatory hugs from people she barely knew. Then to receive sympathetic looks from people she considered closer friends. “I’ll have to go back in soon. I mean—I should, shouldn’t I?” she murmurs, mostly asking herself at this point. She's sure Aubrey will respond regardless.

“It is your engagement party,” Aubrey points out, surprisingly delicate. “Chloe, I...” She doesn’t finish her thoughts, another surprising moment for Aubrey, but Chloe appreciates the brief reprieve from questioning and inquiry.

Chloe sighs, lifting her left hand from the balcony railing to look at the ring adorning her finger.

“Do you think...” Chloe swallows, unsure what she even wants to ask.

Do you think she’s out there still?

Do you think he’s right for me?

Do you think I’ll ever move on from loving her?

She has asked herself and others variations of these questions over the past year. One year of not having Beca Mitchell in her life. One year of not knowing whether Beca is even dead or alive. One year of constantly feeling relief and dread all at once with each passing day of the coast guard notifying them that they have yet to find Beca or, worse, her lifeless body.

One year of all the love for Beca welling up inside herself and nowhere to put it.

Chicago had seemed like a safe option. An option so safe that the result of her decision rests heavy on her finger, sparkling back at her like it dares to wink.

“You know it’s never too late, right, Chloe?”

“To do what?”

“To...to not marry him.”

It makes Chloe take pause as she contemplates Aubrey’s words. It’s true that she could just choose not marry Chicago, but he does, for all intents and purposes, make her happy. He makes her feel safe and cherished.

He loves her.

That fact is particularly important because if she’s being honest with herself, for as much as she remains distraught and hung up on Beca, she hadn’t truly known if Beca had loved her in return. Not in the way that Chloe had wanted all these years, at least.

(It seems almost like a cheap shot at Beca’s memory, however, because of course Beca had loved her. And Chloe had let herself fall deeper for Beca even though things remained unspoken between them. Beca had never been good with words, but Chloe had been one of the few people that had been privy to being let in by Beca herself. Privy to understanding Beca and everything she stood for. The things she didn’t say.)

“I love him,” Chloe finally responds, ignoring the way her voice wavers. “And he loves me. And we’re getting married because of that and nothing else.”

Aubrey says nothing. Instead, she pulls Chloe in for a hug, a long, comfortable hug, and lets Chloe cry on her shoulder.

* * * * *

Life has a weird way of somehow working out and yet completely throwing Chloe into a tailspin all at the same time. She is roused from sleep less than a week after her engagement party. She sighs, noting the empty space on the bed next to her. Chicago had left just the day before and she already misses the comforting sensation of feeling less alone upon waking up.

However, this morning she realizes belatedly that she has been roused from sleep due to the obnoxious buzzing of her phone on her bedside. She peers at the screen noting the unfamiliar number before she decides to let it go to voicemail, opting for more sleep instead.

She regrets that decision much later.

* * * * *

Chloe Beale? This is Dr. Carter from Mount Sinai in Manhattan. This might come as a shock to you but we have recently been working with authorities as a patient has come into our care and you were listed as one of the main contacts for her. We have a Beca Mitchell being attended to at this moment, having just been brought over from Europe where she had sustained a fairly serious head injury about a year ago. We can’t get into more details at the moment and we would appreciate it if you could make your way to New York as soon as possible. We are also reaching out to other contacts to make sure—

Chloe hits the replay button with a trembling finger.

Chloe Beale? This is Dr. Carter—

She can’t believe what she’s hearing.

—patient has come into our care—

It feels like a dream and a nightmare all rolled into one. She feels sick, she feels nauseous, she feels—

—have a Beca Mitchell being attended to at—

She collapses onto her bed, staring in shock at her phone, now loosely grasped in her hand. The faint echo of the voicemail calls out to her, but she can barely force herself to move. To function. To breathe.

When she finally comes to her senses, Chloe takes a gasping breath, clasping a hand over her mouth to stop the sob that threatens to escape.

“Beca,” she whispers, testing the name aloud on her lips for the first time in a long time.

Beca is home.

* * * * *

“Miss, are you going to go in?”

Chloe lifts her head from where she had been watching her foot scuff the floor of the bright hospital tile. She feels exhausted and drained already, mostly from the flight from California to New York, where she had spent most of it on the verge of throwing up and also on the verge of crying. She hadn’t expected this—had dreamed of it—to fall into her lap. She hadn’t prepared. She hadn’t even given herself a chance to decide what she wanted to say to Beca.

“I—” Chloe takes in the sympathetic expression on the nurse’s face. Like the nurse understands the turmoil she is going through at this moment. She fiddles with the ring on her finger, her hand jammed into the pocket of her sweater. “I should just...” she clears her throat. She knows she can’t wait outside forever.

She never wants Beca to be waiting for her.

“Can I?” she asks timidly, placing a hand on the door.

“You can. I’ll just take the paperwork,” the nurse says kindly. He gently takes the paperwork Chloe had filled out while waiting and guides her with a hand outstretched towards the room, gesturing at her to go in. “She was asking for you, you know?”

At that, Chloe feels unmistakable tears well up in her eyes and she twists before he can see anything else on her face. To twist however, is to enter the room completely where she comes face-to-face with Beca Mitchell for the first time in a year. She couldn’t stop the gasping breath that escapes her even if she had foresight to do so. Beca looks up, startled, looking paler and thinner than Chloe remembers, but very much alive.

“Chloe,” Beca rasps. She clears her throat, a hint of colour returning to her cheeks. “Chloe,” she tries again, clearer than before. “You’re here,” she says, awe tainting her voice.

Chloe breaks, rushing towards the bed into Beca’s outstretched arms, nestling herself in the feeling of home.

She feels nothing except the warmth of Beca’s body against her. Nothing except of how tightly Beca’s hands tangle into her hair, holding her close. Nothing, not even the press of the cool metal band around her finger.

Just Beca, in her arms, like she had dreamt of all this time.

fin.

#bechloe #pitch perfect #beca mitchell #chloe beale #you can think that you're in love #my fanfic #mine #bechloe fic

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

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Merry & Bright {27}: Glitter on the Floor*

Previous: Anticipating

youtube

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: SMUT

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Swearing! Sexy Times!

Summary: The morning after your New Years party is the perfect time to discuss your future.

Taehyung wakes slowly, the sun streaming in from a crack in the blinds. His mind is hazy with memories of last night, dancing, glitter, sequins, base rattling the chandelier, Ho-Seok’s dance break, eating pizza in the living room at 2AM and, you. Rolling over, he finds you tucked under the blankets, hair a halo on your pillow, skin illuminated by the beams of light. He’d give anything to wake up like this every day, the city restless outside the confines of his home, glitter seeping into every crack and crevice of the apartment, you beside him.

You’d agreed to host the New Year’s bash simply based on the look Ho-Seok had given you when it came up. Any chance to wear neon eyeliner and encrust your eyelids with rhinestones was an opportunity you would be foolish not to take. You’d meticulously planned the evening, from the theme to the food, Taehyung offering creative direction and steering the ship with you, taking turns as you cruised. It had been everything you’d ever wanted in a party, all your favorite people, the best food, Jimin and Jungkook setting the music for the night with a brilliant mix of pop, American, European and Korean, mixed with R&B and full of energy. The polaroid cameras they’d been gifted were out and about, extra film in one central location, which inevitably led to photos people forgot or didn’t like scattered on the hardwood. You didn’t care, it was going to go down as the most spectacular New Years party ever had, which finished nicely with an outstanding fireworks display and the love of your life’s lips on yours at midnight. Though, Taehyung didn’t know he was the love of your life, and in your haste to celebrate a new year with your friends, you hadn’t taken the time to tell him like you had planned. Instead, you bit back your words, kissed him wildly, and retreated to the dance floor.

As you roll over, eyes opening to the morning light, your chocolate eyes land on his, already awake, already staring.

“Morning,” He says, hand reaching out to cup your cheek, thumb moving gently against your bottom lip.

“Morning,” You reply, eyes still covered in sleep, body too tired to react to his gentle touch.

“Did you sleep good?” He asks, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Mm, am I not still asleep?” You wonder, eyes blinking rapidly.

“Depends what your dreams were about,” Taehyung says, arm reaching for your hips, pulling your body closer to his.

“I don’t remember,” You say, “I was reliving flashes of last night.”

“Which parts?” He inquires, breath hot on your face as he places kisses on your forehead, lips dragging to your cheeks, across to your nose.

“The best parts,” You say, eyes fluttering closed to encourage your senses to focus on his touch.

“Which were?” His lips whisper against your ear, teeth tugging your bare earlobe gently. It wasn’t often that your ears weren’t adorned, and he relished the ability to take your sensitive flesh between his teeth.

“You,” You whisper, hips already becoming unruly under his touch. “Tae,” You moan gently, hands moving up his chest, tweaking his nipples between your fingers.

“Y/N,” He moans against your neck, lips pressing gently on your flesh, teeth ready and willing to nip at the exposed skin.

Your hands snake around his neck, fingers tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, gently pulling his head up.

“Tae, look at me,” You whine. Taehyung pulls up, tongue absentmindedly jutting between his lips.

“What is it?” He asks, eyes searching yours.

“I wanted to tell you something last night but I didn’t get the chance,” You scoot your body so it’s flush against his, his bare chest radiating heat through your modal pajama shirt.

“What is it aein?” He whispers, eyes struggling to stay focused on yours when your lips are pouting so perfectly.

“I love you,” You say.

“I love you too,” He responds, still confused why this statement is requiring so much levity.

“I wanted to tell you that, I think, no, I know that you, Kim Taehyung, are the love of my life and I just, I felt like I wanted,” You blink quickly, hoping the tears forming wouldn’t fall, “I needed to tell you.” Your words become weightless as they leave your lips, floating between you before Taehyung breathes them in.

“I’m the love of your life?” He asks, eyes both wide in shock and knitted in confusion.

“Yes, and I know that I might not be yours,” Your words are becoming more rushed as you try to fill the silence.

“Aein,” He says, eyebrows relaxing. “You’re the love of my life, too.”

It’s then that your tears begin to fall, delicate beings just waiting to rain down your cheeks. Taehyung is crying too, this profession of love, of dedication, far greater than any you’d ever shared before.

Taehyung is quick to place his lips on yours, but you’re quicker, pushing his shoulders back, straddling his hips only to grind yours against him, lips surging with his. His large hands, warm and tender, slide gently from the top of your knees up your thighs, resting softly against your hips, thumbs dipping below the band of your underwear.

You stay on top of him, both sets of hips rocking into each others until the tension is too great, you’re too turned on and his arousal, aggressively pressing into you is driving you both insane. The lewd sounds escaping both of your lips can’t be masked as his hands move under your pajama top, cupping your breasts, gently kneading them. Your focus on his lips is breaking as you start to circle your hips against him, causing Taehyung to arch his back, head turning to the side to moan your name into the open air.

“Jagiya, I need you to st-stop,”

“Why?” You ask, voice muffled by your teeth against the column of his throat.

“I’m too close, I want to last,” His words are strained as you continue to bruise his flesh, pulling away to pull your top overhead, too hot and sticky to keep the garment on.

“Y/N, damn it,” Taehyung mutters before he’s flipping you over and swiftly pulling the remainder of his clothing off. Your eyes are wide at the sight of him, fully nude and wanting, the tip of his cock red and ready to burst his load. He stares at you, breasts heavy, begging him to sink his teeth around your nipples. “I can’t believe I get to spend my life with you.”

“Yeah?” Is all your able to get out before he’s greedily climbing over you, your legs spreading wide to accommodate him. The look in your eyes tells him where you want him, and his lips and fingers are greedy in their devouring of your cunt. He’s generous and forgiving, skillful and still learning, never tiring of trying new techniques or sticking with his tried-and-true methods of getting you to your edge and then some.

No matter how many times you’re intimate, regardless of the minutes or hours he’s accumulated between your legs, his curiosity and blatant skill always surprises you. He knows your body, by your breath, by the knit on your brow, by the way your thighs quiver, he knows you.

Which is why when he stops his movements, tongue retreating to his mouth, fingers pulling out of you abruptly, you’re confused and wanting.

“Tae,” You question.

He doesn’t say anything as he grabs a pillow from the floor, hand tapping your hips, which you raise so that he can place it underneath you. He repositions himself between your open legs and pushes himself in, bottoming out within seconds. Your surprise at his change in demeanor, from doting lover to dominant tempter, is overwhelming and so fucking sexy. His movements are all over the place, languid and sensual, then quick and charging. The change in pressure is disorienting as your body gives into the unsteady rhythm, your ability to control any aspect of yourself completely gone.

All that exists is your moans, loud and frequent, only being swallowed when Taehyung places his lips over yours, messily meeting you where you’re at, tongue and teeth engaging as he feels you tighten around him. He moves one of his hands, which has been propping him up, to find your throbbing clit. It doesn’t take him more than a few quick circles to send you absolutely over the edge, the edging of the morning racking through you. Taehyung comes undone within you; his inhibitions gone as he empties himself fully.

He rests his chest against yours, head in the crook of your neck, as both of you gasp for air. As his heartbeat slows, he rolls over, grateful for the extra space to breathe.

“Water?” He asks. You nod before standing and slipping your pajama top back on, feet guiding you to the bathroom, then to the kitchen where you fill two glasses. As you pad back to the bedroom, glitter and dried candle wax sticking to your feet, you pick up a stray polaroid, a photo a drunken Jungkook had taken of you and Tae, kissing at midnight.

“We should frame this,” You say, handing Tae the photo and glass of water.

“When you move in,” Taehyung says, his thoughts from waking returning to him.

“Absolutely,” You respond. “You and me,” you add placing a kiss on his lips.

“Forevermore,” Taehyung smiles.

Next: Too Early in the Game

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sethrine-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Projections of the Forgotten, Ch. 1

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Pairing: Barnaby “Bunny” Brooks Jr. x Female Reader

Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: Ominous vibes

Fic Summary: Racing against the clock, Barnaby must rely on the help of Kotetsu and the other Heroes in finding you, a woman who has been projecting herself into the partners' forced dreams.

Barnaby knew who you were...but he could not remember you, truly. Even so, something was terribly wrong, and he only had so much time until you became nothing more than a mere memory of a dream.

A/N: A T&B reader-insert fic? In this day and age? It's more likely than you think. Can't thank my friend, @kyarymell, enough for introducing me to this anime. I can't believe I missed out on it, back in the day! Anyways, here's to hoping there's still some fans out there who will enjoy this indulgent little fic. Enjoy!

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Chapter 1 - An Ominous Walk in the Park

"Are you lost?"

Barnaby blinked his eyes open, unaware that he had even had them closed to begin with. He glanced up at the inky black sky overhead, not a trace of stars or the moon to be had, then began to look all around him. Confusion clouded his narrowed gaze as he took in his new surroundings of nicely trimmed trees and winding cobblestone paths, wood and iron benches illuminated softly by strategically placed lamp posts.

How had he ended up at a park, of all places? It wasn't a familiar place, at least not one he recognized in Sternbild. And it was so dark out...he was sure it had been midday only moments ago.

What had he been doing all afternoon, and why couldn’t he remember any of it?

"Hm?"

He turned around fully, eyes naturally falling on the only other individual that seemed to be within his proximity.

You seemed every bit engrossed in the dark void of sky hovering above the treetops, gazing intently at something that he could not see. It was a wonder he hadn’t seen you, at first, standing there beneath one of the lamp posts, the light acting as a sort of beacon in the almost unnatural darkness of the night.

Barnaby stepped closer.

"Excuse me-"

"Are you lost?"

He nearly startled at your voice, having stopped mid-step at the intense feeling of deja-vu that overcame him. That question...you had already asked that very question, just moments ago, yet he hadn't realized he had been spoken to. He wasn’t even sure he had realized you had spoken at all before that moment.

Barnaby still wasn't completely sure if you were truly talking to him, either, so focused you were on the sky.

"I believe I am, yes," he answered cautiously, taking a few more steps closer, but keeping a healthy distance between. "I'm almost embarrassed to admit I'm not entirely sure where 'here' is."

There was a pause in the conversation, allowing Barnaby to have yet another glance around the unfamiliar park, then a moment to better study you.

He was fairly certain he had never seen you before, your face and your voice not sparking any immediate familiarity in him. You seemed fairly normal, just from his first glances, but even so, Barnaby couldn't help but feel that something wasn't quite right. It was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, almost as if he were forgetting something.

You blinked, a lethargic movement that seemed rather odd, much too slow. Your eyes continued to linger overhead.

"This is an unnecessarily dangerous situation for someone like you to find themselves in. You walked into something you shouldn't have, I'm afraid."

Barnaby's breath hitched just slightly at your words, finding a challenge between the lines of what you were saying. It was almost comical how quickly the Hero in him was on alert, expecting the tables to turn on him at any moment.

The park remained unbothered, quiet, eerily so.

Barnaby retained tension in his shoulders, regardless.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand what you're implying."

Your gaze finally left the sky and turned towards him, though it was then that Barnaby noticed you weren't really looking at him, or anywhere in particular, for that matter. Eyes glazed over and almost dull, it was as if you were barely aware he was even in front of you at all.

"Let me escort you out of here," you spoke once more, though Barnaby was suddenly under the impression that you barely had any sense to what you were saying, "it's best not to linger in such a precarious environment."

He watched as you turned carefully, dazed steps beginning to lead you out of the light of the lamp post.

Impulsively, Barnaby all but dashed forward, reaching out and catching your wrist before you could completely slip into the darkness. It wasn't like him to be so brash, but something about the whole situation still wasn't sitting right in his mind. Allowing you to step away felt more dangerous than the impartial threat your words provided.

It felt as if letting you walk out of the light meant you would disappear, too, and he couldn't linger too long on the thought of why that was an issue without making his head spin.

His action caused another immediate sense of deja-vu, a small laps in memory hitting him so suddenly that it made his chest ache unpleasantly. He had done something like this before, perhaps not under the same pretenses, but he had definitely caught your wrist...and he was sure it was your wrist, the way the smooth, braided herringbone metal of your bracelet felt cool against his fingertips, creating a unique sensation nothing else had ever provided.

Barnaby knew who you were...but he could not remember you, truly.

The ache in his head and his chest was becoming insistent the longer he attempted to piece together just what exactly was happening.

You looked over your shoulder just as slowly as you had turned away from him, eyes unseeing for several long seconds. Then, as if the trance you were under suddenly lifted, you began to blink away the dullness in your stare, a light of warmth and confusion and recognition brightening your gaze.

A gasp parted your lips, and Barnaby tensed at the sound.

"Can...can you really-?"

"Hey, Bunny, come on...Barnaby, wake up!"

Startled, Barnaby bolted up from his prone position, immediately regretting the movement as pain bloomed across his forehead. He reached up instinctively and flinched at the sharper ache upon touching just above his eye.

"He's awake!"

"Goodness, Handsome, you had us nearly worried to death!"

"Here, for your head, de gozaru."

Barnaby blinked a few times, still disoriented from having sat up so suddenly, and took the ice pack nearly shoved into his face with a dazed thanks before looking around him.

He was on the floor of the training facility, though looking at his clothes, he hadn't been there to work out as he first thought. He had...he had been looking for Kotetsu, if his memory served him right. There was a matter about some upcoming interview he needed to discuss with the older Hero, and he'd been directed to the training facility.

The other Heroes -his friends- were knelt alongside him in a loose semi-circle at the moment, their faces showing expressions of both relief and concern for his well-being. Before, they had all been doing their own exercises, or conversing amongst one another, some having taken just a moment to greet him as he passed by.

Just slightly further to his right, he could see Kotetsu in a similar situation as himself, on the floor and holding an ice pack to his head. He, at least, looked much more put together in his own impractical way, cross-legged and grinning almost nervously as Antonio and Karina both hovered over him, glowering, yet worried, much like the others.

He'd been meandering on the treadmill, Barnaby recalled, stopping almost immediately at having seen his approach and rushing over just as quickly as if his partner had been waiting for an opportunity for distraction.

Everything after that was hazy at best.

As if sensing his thoughts, Kotetsu turned and caught his eye, his partner's toothy smile brightening considerably and becoming more genuine.

"Hey, Bunny! Thought you'd never wake up, there for a minute."

Barnaby blinked slowly, perhaps almost comically so, at the nickname before his brows furrowed in confusion.

"What happened? Were we attacked?"

Kotetsu's grin dropped rather suddenly, a mirror image of Barnaby's own confusion showing on the older Hero's face. He watched as his partner lowered the ice pack, reaching up once more to scratch at the back of his head in deep thought.

"Eh...I don't know. You were talking about some interview thing, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up on the floor! Think I hit my head on something on the way down."

"You idiot," Karina piped in, arms crossed and lips pursed, "you knocked out Barnaby! Probably overworked yourself and just headbutted him right to the ground when you passed out."

That would definitely explain the ache in his head, Barnaby surmised, but even with Kotetsu's penchant for accidents and acting as if things were alright when they clearly weren't, they had been standing steadily in front of each other, and Kotetsu hadn't shown any signs of overexertion, only boredom.

"Actually," Keith spoke up, catching everyone's attention and calming a near-shouting match in the making, "I saw what happened. You were both talking, and suddenly just started swaying in place before collapsing. It was the strangest thing, and stranger, still!"

"It really was sudden," Pao-Lin agreed. “You had us all pretty worried, especially since we couldn’t wake you as quickly as Tiger.”

Barnaby reeled at the information, perplexed.

"Well, glad we had you guys to save our tails," Kotetsu said with a grin, seemingly trying to diffuse the fuss surrounding them both, as he often did. "I was having the weirdest dream, too, about a woman in some really dark park."

"Wow, what a way to be creepy, even in your own dreams," Antonio drawled, Kotetsu immediately bristling at the playful accusation.

"It wasn't like that!" Kotetsu shouted, frowning animatedly while crossing his arms in defense. "She was acting weird, kept saying ominous things and asking, ah…"

"Are you lost?"

The question slipped out of Barnaby's mouth before he could stop it, prompting a surprised and somewhat startled expression from Kotetsu. Barnaby was sure he looked roughly the same, a little wide-eyed and ruffled at whatever was happening.

“Yeah! How, uh...how did you know that?”

"Believe it or not, I had the same exact dream."

All eyes were suddenly on Barnaby, shocked gasps and murmurs ringing out amongst the Heroes as he continued on a heavier note.

"I...I think I know who she is, but I can't seem to remember."

#Tiger and Bunny #t&b #Barnaby Brooks Jr #Barnaby Brooks Jr x Reader #reader #reader-insert #female reader

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