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maiiuelle · 3 months ago

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rafe cameron is not known for giving heartfelt apologies, but after what he had done to you last week, he couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach.

he tried all his usual methods of letting go — starting with more meaningless hook ups, cocaine, and partying. it felt natural to try to move on like you were just another fling, after all you were never officially together. it worked enough to keep him occupied, but ultimately, it only made him feel worse to pretend you meant nothing to him. it serves as a constant reminder of exactly how he made you feel that night — like nothing.

the intrusive memory of what happened haunts him. before the incident, you were really growing on him. he made you his main girl without meaning to, inviting you to the club and out golfing just because he genuinely wanted you there beside him. by the time he realized he had real feelings for you, it felt like everyone else already knew.

you made him feel vulnerable, and it scared him. being so public with you put his emotions out on display. he had to remind himself that you weren’t his girlfriend, you were just supposed to be another girl he had on his roster. he has a big ego and an even bigger reputation, and in an attempt to protect that rather than you, he continued on with his bachelor lifestyle.

he never imagined you’d show up that night — he hoped brushing you off would shoo you away, save you from the inevitable realization he isn’t as great as he makes himself out to be. instead, you made him face you head on, and he would remember the devastated look on your face forever.

the nonchalant mask finally slips when his friends start asking where you went, having noticed your sudden absence. after all that time of trying to suppress his guilt, it struck a nerve just hearing your name. “who’s asking? ‘cause—cause i know it’s none of your fuckin’ business what she’s up to.”

topper lifts his hands in surrender, eyeing kelce. “woah. chill, man. i was just wondering, i thought you were into that chick.”

kelce snickers, taking the chance to finally get payback for every time rafe mocked them for chasing after girls. “what? did she dump you or something?”

rafe just pushes out of his seat, waving them off as he finishes what’s left in his glass. he doesn’t spare his friends another glance despite their boisterous protests, instead just addressing the bartender on his way out. “put it on cameron.”

he can’t handle it anymore, he has to do something.

it’s officially been a week since you last saw rafe. like clockwork the early birds begin to sing songs as they welcome the brand new day, the sun just starting to rise above the horizon. you’re still awake from the night before, unable to sleep with how your mind is racing.

you had been holding it together much better than rafe — to the public, you’re thriving. you go out with your friends every night, looking better than ever at yacht parties and the island club. it’s freeing to spend more time with your girl friends again, but you really can’t stand to spend any time by yourself.

thats why the nights are the worst, when you’re stuck alone in the silent solitude of your bedroom. that’s where you are now, wrapped up in your duvet with puffy eyes from crying all night over him. you just couldn’t wrap your head around the betrayal — after you thought you truly knew him, he turned out to be exactly how everyone said he was. manipulative, slimy, and selfish. your heart aches at your own ignorance, feeling stupid for not seeing the now obvious red flags.

to try to get your mind off of him, even just for a second, you tune into the gentle tapping of morning rain on your windowsill. in an overtired daze, you dream of being a princess locked away in a tower with your heroic lover waiting below, tossing stones at your window to garner your attention.

you don’t let it play on for too long, cutting it off abruptly by pulling your pillow over your face, silently scolding yourself. your infatuation with romance novels is what got you into this mess in the first place, making you delusively believe that rafe cameron was your prince charming. so stupid.

but, the tapping grows louder, your silly fantasy rebelling against you, refusing to disappear. in a fit of exhausted frustration, you grab the pillow off your head and throw it across the room, watching as it lands flat on the floor just short of the window, just in time for one of the shiny stones from your garden to hit the glass. then another, and another.

it couldn’t be. you can’t believe your eyes, especially after a long night of sobbing and zero sleep. you slowly slip out of your bed, walking up to the window cautiously.

“oh, you have to be joking.” you look down from your bedroom window to see none other than rafe standing in your lawn with a hand full of rocks and his truck parked on the curb. he’s clearly had a long night too, swaying on his feet and deflating when he sees you appear in the window.

“baby! baby — please talk to me!” he shouts, and you rush to push your window open. your father already hates the camerons, and you don’t want to deal with that confrontation if he wakes him up this early in the morning.

“shhh!” you press your finger to your lips, practically pushing your whole upper body out the window urgently to whisper-shout at him. “what are you thinking? my dad’s gonna kill you!”

“baby, i—i need to talk to you, please.” rafe whines, dropping the rest of the stones in his hand so he can push his bangs back. desperation looks strange on him, in your state of shock you hold up a hand to silence him and give yourself a second to weigh your options. you could get him back for what he did right now, do exactly what he did to you — you could scream at him to leave, to never speak to you again, and go get your father to handle the rest.

but instead, you just roll your eyes. so stupid. “just.. just wait a second.” you sigh as you shut the window quietly, closing your eyes for a moment of pause. before you change your mind, you march to your bedroom door, grabbing your fluffy robe and slipping it over your shoulders followed by your slippers.

you would never do any of that to him, not with the way you still feel about him, no matter how frustrating that is. you wish he could just be dead to you, but that’s not how you feel. the least you could do is hear out what he has to say for himself, even big bad rafe cameron deserves a second chance.

you take a deep breath as you slip down the stairs quietly, bracing yourself to face him. you open the front door, pulling your robe tighter over your nightgown to fight the cold morning air that bites at your skin as you sneak outside.

rafe rushes toward you, holding his head in anguish. “baby, listen to me. i—i know i screwed up, alright? i—”

“stop!” you thump your foot on the front porch, glaring at him from the top of the wooden steps. just because you’re kind enough to give him the time of day doesn’t mean he’s off the hook. he listens, pausing with wide eyes as he looks you over. he really is a mess, tears falling from his eyes and mixing with the morning rain that’s already soaked his hair and shirt. “god, rafe. what is going on with you?”

“i’m a fuckin’ idiot.” he cries, his face twisting as he sobs. “we had something good, right? and—and i fucked it all up. i did. it’s all my fault.”

you stand there with your arms crossed in front of you like a shield.“how do you think i feel? i thought you cared, meanwhile you’re lying to me and fucking some other girl?” you frown, staring him down. “you.. you humiliated me!”

“i know, i know — trust me, i know!” he grits his teeth, spinning on his heel in frustration before pacing back toward you. “you’ve got no idea, alright? i promise you, i’ve torn myself apart enough over this. just—” he strains, sucking in a shaky deep breath and forcing it out, trying to calm down. “i need you. okay?”

“oh really? how am i supposed to trust you?” you spit, venom in your voice. seeing him grovel at your front steps is oddly satisfying, even though the deep hurt in his voice is twisting your stomach.

“baby, look at me!” rafe drags his hands down his wet shirt, looking at you like a puppy dog stuck out in the rain. “i’m a fuckin’ mess without you. look, i—i took advantage of the situation, alright, i admit that. but i can’t breathe without you.” he stops, fidgeting anxiously as he waits for a response. you’re frozen, equally as shocked as him at his words. the anxiety gets the better of him and he steps forward, moving up the steps toward you. seeing your teary, red eyes stings in his chest. “c’mere, okay? let’s just — let’s just put this all behind us, right?”

“rafe—”

“nah, nah. it’s alright, c’mere.” he coos, and you kick yourself because you don’t back away, instead letting him come up on your porch and put his arms out for you. you blink up at him with your doe eyes, the sympathetic look on his face melting your defense. you just crumble into his arms, having been so desperate for him to comfort you exactly how he his now. “c’mon, there you go. you’re my girl. my girl.”

could you give him another chance?

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#my inbox is open! ‧₊˚.#i’m envisioning s1 rafe tbh..#this is just the first time rafe and kook!reader break up #and it is not the last…#obx #kook!reader ౨ৎ ೃ༄#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron headcanon #rafe drabble #rafe headcanon

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xiefuyu · 1 year ago

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overworked.

-- bonten x reader

🖤 — Tokyo Revengers

📝 — non-con drugging (its bonten, what did you expect) (its for your own safety tho...?), cursing, it's bonten timeline that's a spoiler itself, platonic relationship, not proofread

:a/n — I ain't indulging non-con behaviors everyone t___t

Being Bonten’s intern was hell.

But hey, they pay much more than your ordinary 8-5 job so it works and you’re not going to complain loudly. It’s just one of those days where you’re full of work. Like full full kind of full. You wish it was your stomach that was full of food instead.

The light coming from your computer is starting to make your eyes sting and your lower back is being a bitch from how long you’ve been in the same position for hours.

When you first started this intern thing, the work wasn’t this heavy but as the time went by, you noticed how the top executives became comfortable with you to the point that they dumped their report-making to you.

(Let’s be honest, they’re just straight up bullying you.)

(Let’s be honest, you want to kill them.)

But you’re a broke person who’s living in a penthouse given by your boss, Sano Manjiro, and living off of the pay given by Kokonoi so yes, you’re going to fucking endure this like how Takeomi is still enduring life despite being the lung cancer’s incarnate.

You sigh and decide to take a break. You start questioning the existence of time when you saw that the sun had already risen. What the actual fuck? You swear it was just nighttime! Were you taking Sanzu’s drugs without knowing it? Did Bonten decide to prank you and cover your office windows with big TVs?

You groan and curse.

“Fucking great, not a single wink of sleep again.” you tell yourself and slap your thigh for being stupid for letting yourself disassociate with reality.

You stand up, determined to put some kind of food in your stomach because goddamn, you swear you just saw a grim reaper standing beside your desk, raising an eyebrow at you because of your condition.

You flip off your hallucinated grim reaper and start walking. It’s morning, you remind yourself. It’s morning and those goddamn lazy ass executives (Ran and Sanzu) will come in any time now. The thought of dealing with their asses makes you roll your eyes, immediately regretting it because it caused a goddamn pounding in your head.

You just hope you don’t run into one of them while you’re on your journey to get food.

Who are you even kidding? Your office is literally beside Sanzu’s so it wasn’t a surprise when you bumped into him on your way to the general kitchen.

“Good morning, Sanzu-san.” you greet because you’re not an asshole and he’s literally your boss. “Aren’t you an early bird?” he teases, eyebrows wiggling. You roll your eyes in your mind, just giving him a smile and walking past him towards the kitchen.

Sanzu doesn’t miss your darkened eyebags and the fact that you’re still wearing what you were wearing yesterday.

“Oh, right, the fridge doesn’t have anything, kid.” he says and grins as he watches you close your eyes in an attempt to calm down. “Come on, I’ll treat you to the canteen below.” he beckons and you shake your head.

“It’s fine, Sanzu-san. I can pay for my own food. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Sanzu just hums, following you like a lost kid. “Kid, did you finish my report?”

Kid.

Old ass man.

Calling you kid as if you’re not younger by 4 years only.

“Yes. I’ll bring it to you later, Sanzu-san. Will you be at your office?” He gives you a lazy smile and shrugs. “Who knows?” if he’s not your boss and the fact that he could kill you without hesitation, you would have cursed him in his face already. But you’re kind so you remain silent and patiently wait for the elevator doors to open.

The both of you walk in silence towards the canteen. The atmosphere suddenly drops when the lower members of Bonten see Sanzu behind you. It was a common occurrence but it doesn’t fail to remind you that the man walking behind you was a criminal. A big, experienced, and an unhinged one at that.

The smell and sight of food makes your stomach growl silently and you walk faster, hoping Sanzu didn’t hear it because this bitch will surely tease you for it. Fortunately, he remains silent behind you, just watching you get your food, not even getting some for him. He follows you to a table, sitting across you, still silent.

“Do you have anything to say, Sanzu-san?” you asked when he remained looking at you. It wasn’t uncomfortable for you but you sure as hell found it annoying, wanting nothing but poke his eyes with the fork you’re holding.

“You stink,” he says.

You close your eyes, breathing in and out deeply, calming yourself down. No, you don’t stink, thank you very much. Despite being holed in your office for almost 24 hours, you still smell like your perfume, vanilla extract and pastell herbs.

You don’t say anything, opting to continue eating because you’re fucking hungry and you’re sane enough to priorities yourself before this spawn of Satan himself.

The two of you sit in silence.

You don’t know why but Sanzu got you an ice cream, shrugging when you threw him a confused look. “I did say I’ll treat you,” he says.

You thank him and let yourself smile when you see that it’s your favourite flavour. Without further ado, you start eating your ice cream, unaware of Sanzu’s wicked grin.

A few minutes later, your eyelids feel heavy, making you frown. Is it a food coma? You used to feel sleepy after eating sometimes but you know that it’s not the case this time. You look up at Sanzu and curse when you see him grinning at you.

“Sanzu-san…what…”

“Not drugs.”

With that confirmation, you let yourself succumb to darkness, cursing Sanzu silently and hoping he didn’t hear you.

“Sanzu-san…you fucker…” Sanzu laughs loudly when he hears you cursing him. It’s your fault for trusting him and eating the ice cream that he gave you, honestly. (Not true, Sanzu is just an idiot).

He stands up to pick your limp body up and makes his way to his office. “The fuck? What happened?” he hears Kokonoi asking, looking at you in worry. “Nothing. Just made her fall asleep.” he says.

Kokonoi sighs loudly, “Sanzu, did you fucking put a sleeping pill in her food?” he asks, upset. “Bingo!” Sanzu exclaims, not so loudly, before grinning at Kokonoi’s tired facade at him.

“I told you not to do- whatever.” Kokonoi cuts himself off, already knowing that he won’t get across Sanzu’s thick skull and when he sees you still wearing your yesterday’s outfit. “Bring her to the private lounge, not your office.” he warns. Sanzu rolls his eyes but nods, his plan to let you nap in his office gone.

He’s more than aware that you’ll curse him in your mind when you wake up.

But hey, seeing you snuggling closer to the blanket he put over you and deeper into the pillow was enough to dull the regret he’s feeling for overworking you.

(Don’t be deceived, he’ll overwork you again by dumping his report-making to you.)

By the time you regain consciousness, it was already dark outside, making you sit up abruptly, ignoring the sudden dizziness caused by your action.

“Get some more sleep.” you jump at the voice, head whipping around the source and you curse in your head when you see that it’s just Mikey.

“Boss.” you called out. “I’m okay now, boss.” you throw the blanket aside but stops when you see that Mikey’s hand is playing with a familiar sleeping pill. “What did I tell you about overworking?” His tone was that of command, making your heart beat faster.

You curse Sanzu for forcing you to rest. If he didn’t, you could have showered in your office so as to not cause suspicions that you stayed in for the night.

Your bosses, the top executives, are absolute menaces (except Kakucho, Mochi, and Kokonoi) but you’re aware that they care about you and your health. Including Mikey, the top boss.

Ironic how they literally hired you to do work that involves playing with Death himself.

“I apologise, sir. I lost track of time.” you answer, bowing slightly, hoping Mikey will just let this slide.

And he will. He always does for some reason.

You hear him sigh and you look up, victory bubbling in your chest. “Just go to sleep. It’s already late.” he warns as if he won’t let some of his boys drive you home where the security is tight as hell.

“I need to shower, boss…” you say, feeling icky now that you’re hyper aware of the fact that you still haven’t cleaned your body. “Use the shower here, then. I am sure you have clothes in your office.”

You ignore how he emphasised the word office as if he can’t believe you have spare clothes, home clothes, rather, in your office.

In his defense, you’re not supposed to have those kinds of clothes in your office because they belong to your house. Because he already warned you about not overworking yourself to the point that you sleep in your office.

“Then, please excuse me.” you sheepishly said, bowing at him again. He says and does nothing, just watching you walk away.

When you get back to the private lounge (because you’re not allowed to go home as it was already late) you see Mikey still there.

He points at the sofa bed,

“Sleep,” he commands. Maybe it’s because your exhaustion is catching up to you but you found yourself already slipping away from reality.

Nevertheless, you were still a little bit awake when Mikey stood up and made his way towards you. You were still lucid when you feel his cold hand patting your head along with an almost familiar soft-

“Have sweet dreams.”

Letting your eyes close completely, you smile a little and mumbles a you, too, Mikey-san, before falling asleep for the second time that day.

A/N; might be a mini series again woah haahah

@bontensbabygirl

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers spoiler #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro x y/n #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #bonten x reader #bonten x yn #xiefuyu's

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icarusredwings · 19 days ago

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Thinking about my current favorite thing is emphasising JUST how heartbroken Wade is over Nathan still but being fully understanding of it because he's surprised that he agreed to be an undefined relationship with him in the first place.

There's no "Well why don't you just bring your daughter here? I'm open to share you can bring your wife too" it's just... Acceptance.

Acceptance that Nathan is leaving him. "Oh... okay.."

"I had a great time with you, Wade. Don't think I didn't it's just... It's not the same."

".. I know.."

He wipes a tear off his face with his thumb. "It's not why you think.."

"Yeah.." but he clearly doesn't believe him.

"I'm really sorry.. I didn't mean to.. I thought I was going to stay. But I can't. I can't leave my daughter alone like my father did to me." He mutters this last part.

Wade gives a nod. Wow. Here, he was being dumped and abandoned, and still, he was doing it in the hottest way possible. By sticking to his family. Too bad Wade didn't have any family. He wanted one so badly, but it never felt complete. And even when it did, just briefly, he put them all in so much danger that its better to be alone.

But Cable didn't need protection. He could take care himself, and Wade didn't need to worry about him being kidnapped and held hostage.

His voices had begged him not to do it.

Told him to break the damned thing so Nathan could never leave... but he showed him the second he fixed it. Excitedly wrapped it up and gave it to him. He physically handed Nathan his own heartbreak. Presenting the wrist band to him like a proud cat who finally killed that annoying bird its owner complained about. He couldn't keep it hidden. Morally - pft. Yeah, those pesky things - Morally, he couldn't keep Nathan from seeing his daughter. He'd visit and come back. Back to Wade. And for some stupid reason? Wade thought it would stay like this. He thought that by doing the right thing, Nathan would see him as good and love him more..

That was the last time he litsened to that stupid cricket on his shoulder.

"...Bye, Wade." He told him. Even kissed his forehead goodbye. And then?

He left him standing there. Alone.

It's why he has such a hard time believing Logan when he comes around. For months, he paced and worried that once again he's done the right thing too well, Worried that by getting his suit repaired, once again excitedly presenting it to him, a nice little ribbon. Logan had cried when he got it. Hugging him and breaking his ribs.

He waits for him to leave. He waits for him to realize he's not happy here. He waits for him to give him the same speech, but it never comes.

Eventually, he tells him that if he doesn't have the balls to break up with him, then he can just leave. Logan has no fucking clue what hes talking about because he thought things were going well. He dosn't immediately jump to being upset and instead just tilts his head in that stupid little look he does.

"... what's wrong, Wade?"

Triple W. He hates it. Everyone is always asking this, and he can't ever explain why. He couldn't explain such complex emotions that he himself barely understands.

"Turns out.." he starts, looking almost defeated. Small. And tears come to his eyes. "When a guy says you remind him of his wife... it's not a good thing.."

Again, he's confused because Wade would rather not talk about him much. He hurts too much when thinking about it because none of his relationships ever end on respectful terms like that. They either die or dump him, call him nuts, run away. Or... They sit him down.. tell him they're leaving... and then leave.

He doesn't want Logan to be a third. Oh, it was ridiculous how much he loved him. How much he LIKED him. Sure, he had a great time with Nathan, but Logan felt different. He couldn't pinpoint why. He spent hours comparing the two in his head, trying to find WHY Logan was different.

The last person to do this to him, after Nathan, was Vanessa.

Yes, Logan can live forever LOVE him forever, but so could time travelers. Yeah, he could stab Logan and genuinely blow off some steam with him, and he'd be fine, but he was used to being gentle with partners, used to holding back with V. To make sure he didn't hurt her, Ever (well- unless, she asked - but that was different) So why with him did he feel so.. trusting? Was it his smell? Was it the fact that he could be pissed off at him and still make Wade his safe foods? Was it how he snored? How he sat there and endure his bullshit like now? With that pathetic pitiful smile with such big canines and beautiful eyes that he could swim in? WHAT WAS IT?

"...What if she's dead?"

"W-what?" He holds himself tight, stomach turning and hurting with worry, feeling nauseous.

"What if my wife is dead?"

He swallows "That dosn't help your case."

"What if.. You're nothing like my wife?"

Wade glances at him, semi perked up. "...What do you mean?"

"Well.." he starts. "What if this is real?"

Wade tilts his head like a puppy.

"What if... our entire marriage was fake because her power quite literally gave me false memories and forced me to believe all of it was real? What if... what we have IS real?" He mutters, putting his cheek in his hand.

He blinks, processing, smiling, immediately cringing, and crinkling his nose. "OH- Wolvie... ouch....ew." That didn't sound very consensual...

"... yeh.. well.. shit happens."

He hates it when Logan connects with him so much, having something very similar of his own happen.

"So.. we good?" Logan asks.

"Huh?"

"Are we good? Yknow... cleared up the whole... thing?"

"What thing?"

"God really gifted you the memory of a goldfish didnt he? You told me you wanted to break up."

He crosses his arms, pouting. "No! I said If you didn't have the balls to break up with me then leave. I-i can't handle it."

Logan sighs heavily. "Fine. Then Im breaking up with you."

The look of pure shock quickly turns to sadness as he looks away, voice breaking. "..Ok‐ay.."

He rolls his eyes. "What are you doing later?"

"G-gonna cry in my room and eat an ungodly amount of ice cream..."

"....But your lactose intolerant.."

"I said what I said! W-why!? Why do you even care!?" He snaps at him, tears running down his face, clearly having over upset himself with his own mind.

"Hm.. You wanna get dinner instead?"

This one line flips a switch In wades dumb little head as he stares at him with wide eyes. "...Y-you're asking me out? Again??"

"Mhm. Long as you dont have a secret power that brainwashes me into it."

He shakes his head. "I-i dont."

"Promise?" Logan smirks, raising a brow.

"Promise!!"

And just like that he's on his lap, nuzzling all over him and telling him how mad he was at him but also how hot it is, and if they could get pasta for dinner.

The point of this story is that you are loved and your brain is a bitch. You really gonna litsen to a little bitch?? Pssh no. You're stronger then that. Act like it.

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raayllum · 9 months ago

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We don't appreciate Soren's batshit evolving view of Rayla (and Rayllum enough) tbh.

Think about it: you're Soren. Your dad and sister tell you the princes you were sworn to protect got kidnapped by a Moonshadow elf (some of whom you just fought, killed, and watched your fellow crownguard be killed by). You never met her and never saw the encounter in the dungeons that Claudia did, so you have no reason to doubt this. Then your dad gives you a mission that curdles your stomach and you find yourself more than half hoping that elf has just killed the boys because that means you don't have to dirty your hands and have plausible deniability of your own and your dad's involvement in all of this.

Then you find the Moonshadow elf and she's young. Younger than you. Asleep; it feels wrong. But then it's a trick and she's got the momentary upper hand! She's talented. She's sarcastic(?) and pretty. She's dead meat—

Then Callum runs in, in front of your raised sword, and defends her. He says she's his friend. He says she's a good elf. (How can that be possible?) He says you have to learn to put aside your differences. Your brain is breaking. You assume nothing will change in the morning. And then the weirdest thing is that the elf has the same reaction to your sister and Callum flirting as you do, a big ugh. What's up with that?

You speculate about Moonshadow madness and lie about the king, and the elf gives you an Intense Look that, unfortunately, is not because she's hot and talented, but because she's suspicious. She looks after Ezran like he's her own little brother. When she tricks you guys, again, it's just her on the ground and the princes safely on the stupid moon bird.

Then you don't see her again until it's raining, and she's shown up seemingly of nowhere to save this dumb monstrous dragon. She can't cut the chains and she's outnumbered. An easy prize. Claudia tells you not to kill her because she might be useful. You haven't really made up your mind about it when—

Callum is there in the rain, following after her like a good loyal knight of his own. Callum does dark magic. You wonder if this was the plan all along or not, since the elf doesn't look happy about it. In her your periphery you see her run to him anyway once the dragon is freed. Then it smashes you into the rocks, and everything gets fuzzy.

You don't see her again until at least a week and a half later at the Storm Spire. Ezran calls for both of them (are they always a package deal) and they come running. They exchange wary looks as you give explanations. You can hear their voices, dimly, in the queen's antechamber while you play a game of chase with Ezran and the Dragon Prince. Callum looks to her when you ask to speak and she gives you an eye-roll of permission. Her name is Rayla. She thinks you're more than just a big dump lump (compliment). And maybe you wonder if she's a little more than a friend to Callum as she takes his hand and squeezes, watching Ezran fly off into the night. Maybe you don't.

But they're not holding hands when you find them the next morning so it's fine to interrupt, and you don't know for sure they're a thing until everything is said and done—until you learn that not only is Callum more than over your sister, he flung himself off the top of that tall tall mountain to catch Rayla without even knowing the spell would work.

It's intense and overwhelming to the point you might worry about it if she didn't also look at him like he hung the stars, holding hands in front of the Dragon Queen—on the way back home to Katolis. Ezran gives you pieces of whatever Callum's told him, that Rayla needs a new home. That she got banished.

Every time you're with her at the castle it's a group activity, like sparring or dinner. She doesn't open up easily, even if she's softer—more awkward. You learn that her people like dancing and not much else. Ez and Callum are both very protective of her, Callum especially. She sleeps in a lot. She seems lost. You come along to the Moon Nexus because your king is going, and when Rayla finally asks to talk with you one-on-one, it's because she's chasing answers about your father, and an elf you think she might consider family.

You help Callum and Allen rebuild the Moon Nexus. You don't know what it's for till she's under the water (you don't know that she's scared of water) and Callum is kneeling at the shoreline like he's going to lose his mind with every second that she doesn't surface. The weird Moon lady says your mind will be shattered, that you can be stuck there between life and death forever. Ezran helps Callum dive beneath the waves anyway. It's one of the longest hours of your life, waiting there—because Rayla was brave enough to do what you couldn't, in looking after the boys, and you still have so much to make up for with Callum (plus, Opeli will kill you if you don't come back with the crown prince).

Finally, as the sky begins ever so slightly to lighten, you help drag them out of the water. Callum embraces her—"I couldn't lose you"—like he's never going to let go. Rayla hugs him back just as tight before she kisses him sweetly. You think you'll have to try and entertain Ez tomorrow to give them some privacy, a bit, for Callum's birthday tomorrow.

Rayla is gone in the morning. You don't even hear about what happened from him; Ezran tells you, eyes rimmed in red. Gone without a trace in the middle of the night, leaving only a letter and promises of love behind.

Something bristles inside you; at least your mother had the decency to say goodbye.

Callum is miserable on the way back to Katolis. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat. He lasts three weeks before he gets angry, and you never knew his temper could be that bad. He goes off to Xadia to search guided by his wings, and brought back by the cold every few weeks or so, continually empty handed. Opeli grounds him (literally); his mood worsens as snow thickens.

You take the brunt of his anger without complaint, because you is also smirking and good with a sword and worried about Viren, and because Callum took the brunt of your projection and resentment and jealousy for years. You can handle a few months.

It is not just a few months. Callum gets worse, and then, slowly, after the first anniversary of her being gone, he gets better. It means less shouting, but also less of him—he spends more hours locked away in your father's old study, throwing more and more of himself into magic. You remind yourself that it's okay. It's just primal magic.

(Surely, Callum got rid of your father's old dark magic books. Why would he keep them?)

Another year passes. You're upset at Rayla for leaving, for how much she upset both the boys, for how miserable Callum has been. At the same time, you want her to return, not only for their happiness, but for your peace of mind, because if she does, it'll either be with her mission successful and your family vanquished for good, or because there was nothing to find. She might even have information about Claudia.

Then she does show up, and Callum can barely look at her. He brings the mirror to the Storm Spire. When he falls, Rayla catches him. When he retreats to the Pinnacle, she follows, and you interrupt. You protest in the Drakewood, because your father told you that you had to carry burdens alone and that never did anyone good, and Callum lays down distance that feels strange and exclusionary. When Rayla is standoffish amongst the trees, you critique her—over your younger brother figure, but also over the dragon. You don't know how she's become so changed (how she could leave the same way your mother did).

The next time you see her, she's radiantly happy you're alive and gone just as quickly. Then Callum pulls her from the rubble after one heart wrenching moment, because Callum when she was just gone was rough enough, but a Callum when she's dead is awful to imagine, and—

You watch him forgive her in every way that matters. He stays with her at the castle even as you go off with Ezran and Corvus to do important dragon stuff, and holds her hand as they climb out of the water. He gets madder than you've ever seen him when Finnegrin torments her. You watch him do the impossible first hand to save her life.

You watch him offer to get out of the water, to delay the mission, when she's too scared to. (You didn't even know she was scared of water.) You embrace both of them when everything is said and done, once Callum has nearly fallen over in his haste to just hold her hand.

You still, at the end of the day, don't know Rayla that well—bits and pieces to construct a fragmented but real view of someone who's bold and beautiful and brave and kind, but snarky and judgemental and prone to leaving, too. Balanced, even if it's not deep.

But Callum's love for her? It's as deep as the ocean, and that's kinda what matters most.

#sorayla #katolis boys #this is my roman empire #text post #mine #this got away from me but listen #soren's last interaction with rayla loosely being callum (awkwardly) turning her down #immediately like 2.5 days Max later being #callum weeping and hugging her and probably treating her exactly how he does in 5x01 #IMMEDIATELY post 4x09 is. too funny to pass up #soren's emotional whiplash im a believer

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frozenjokes · 7 months ago

Text

Please For The Love Of Everything Good, MAKE SOME NEW FRIENDS AND LEAVE ME ALONE. With Love, HotGuy <3 (3/3)

Poultry Man was not the type of bird who liked to speak, or even spoke at all. When Poultry Man had something to say, he did so in the form of egg-based political commentary, usually crimes, but not always. Sometimes when he was pissed off, there wasn’t any commentary at all, just chickens. Gotta keep the people guessing, right? Poultry Man liked elaborate schemes, he liked delivering a message, and he liked chickens.

This was not Poultry Man’s first scavenger hunt, nor would it be his last. CuteGuy the villain was dead (among other aliases), but Poultry Man would live on forever, a shining light in this dank city. A golden egg among other, shittier, stupider eggs- whatever, it didn’t matter. Poultry Man was awesome, and Grian felt awesome as he sat at the end of the abandoned road, waiting. He had his postcards ready, simply waiting for HotGuy to arrive. Today was important. Grian would make it count.

Grian ended up waiting a little longer than he thought he would have to, which he probably should have guessed. HotGuy was known to misread and misinterpret basically anything, and it didn’t matter how neat Grian wrote, dyslexia was one son of a bitch.

But HotGuy did eventually arrive, panting and sweaty, and Grian couldn’t help but chuckle imagining him running from place to place and looking for Poultry Man’s hints. Cute, really. HotGuy lit up when he spotted Poultry Man, perched on the roof of a long broken down car, one that had been here for years, no one bothering to haul it off to the dump. Grian smiled, though HotGuy wouldn’t see it under the mask.

“Poultry Man! It’s- I can’t believe I have the chance to finally meet you! Properly, I mean. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you out and about, hasn’t it.. I know CuteGuy was your friend, but I take it you two probably don’t get along much right now.”

Grian shook his head, writing quickly, then tossing the note at HotGuy’s feet. The cardstock was heavy, so it did go a decent distance instead of fluttering pathetically to the ground like normal paper would; Grian had learned that the hard way. Humiliating. Regardless, HotGuy scrambled to pick up the note, reading with wide eyes.

“You’re still friends? Oh, I’m glad! Really, I am. I was a little worried about you, honestly, but I didn’t want to ask just in case the subject was sensitive. CuteGuy and I.. I mean, I’ve been trying, but he just doesn’t like me very much. We don’t really get along, and I just wish I could change his mind. You see, I really like this guy, Cub’s his name, but he and CuteGuy live together, and I just- CuteGuy hates me! He hates that I like Cub, and doesn’t want us to be in any sort of relationship at all, and I just wish I could show him I’m not all that bad, y’know? I mean..” HotGuy trailed off, looking momentarily hopeful, “He told you I wanted to meet with you, right? Was that recently? Did he do that for me?”

Grian considered him for a moment before nodding, and HotGuy just about melted.

“Oh, you have no idea how happy that makes me. And- and that you wanted to meet me in the first place! CuteGuy said you wouldn’t want to, and that you wouldn’t want to talk to me, and I guess you’re not talking, but you’re here, and I’m thrilled! I hope he told you I don’t want to arrest you or hurt you or anything- I don’t know, I got the impression he thought you’d be offended, but with CuteGuy, it’s a little hard to tell. He’s really defensive on your behalf. When I told him I thought he was a good friend for that he tried to beat the shit out of me. Well, he did beat the shit out of me. But that was also for other reasons. It’s complicated. But you don’t look like you want to kill me, and you guys are friends, so maybe you can put in a good word?”

Grian couldn’t suppress the small chuckle that left his throat, and HotGuy seemed to think that was a good sign, perking up, his already large eyes widening. Yeah. Grian could see where Cub was coming from. Having someone like that look at you like this at all hours of the day? Even a heart as icy and dead as his gave a little. He stopped again to write, throwing the postcard to the ground, and HotGuy scurried forward to pick it up.

“Ah- I did get a little distracted, didn’t I? You’re right, you’re right. So- I know you probably won’t answer, but I wanted to ask regardless.. The chickens? The eggs? Where do you get them? And I mean- you probably shouldn’t tell me, full transparency I guess, because I’d probably try to stop you.. Honestly though! I promise it's nothing against you! Well, maybe not nothing- you are committing crimes, but I’m mostly worried about the chickens? The place we bring them to, the sanctuary- they’re happy there! They’re well taken care of and loved. After your.. stunts.. the chickens end up in a good place, and I thought you should know that I care about them. So when I ask, it’s coming from a place of concern for the animals, yeah? I imagine they’re so confused being put in all these random places, having no idea what’s happening or where they’ve ended up.. Wherever you raise them- I’m assuming you raise them- it’s a good place? In our investigation of your activity, we still have no idea where you’re getting them, and I’d just hate to think they’re somewhere underground, unhappy, y’know?”

Grian cocked his head, a visual signal to HotGuy that he was thinking, considering him. That was.. very sweet. Not something Grian would have expected from HotGuy, especially after watching him try to manhandle the chickens Poultry Man had planted, yelling and flailing and generally being far more afraid than should ever be acceptable for someone trying (and failing, miserably) to wrangle chickens. Grian wrote his note, tossing it to the ground.

HotGuy read it aloud this time, “A man after my own heart..” HotGuy trailed off, smiling, and put a hand to his heart as he looked back up. “Of course. That little farm is a great place, Poultry Man, I’m assuming you’ve seen it.” HotGuy paused and Grian nodded, giving a thumbs up to show his approval.

HotGuy looked pleased, continuing, “I just wanted to offer, even though you’ll probably say no.. They would take your chickens, if you wanted to surrender however many you have left. I know it’s mostly eggs with you, and you don’t come around all too frequently, but if you ever decide to give this thing up, or if you can’t care for them anymore, or anything at all, that option is always available for you. Personally, I’d sleep a little easier knowing you weren’t putting live animals in peoples’ houses, but to each their own I guess.”

Grian smiled under the mask, taking a deep breath, “You have nothing to worry about. Well, not the putting chickens in places people don’t want them, I will still be doing that, but the chickens themselves are well taken care of, I can promise you that.”

HotGuy startled at the sound of his voice, jumping to his toes, and Grian couldn’t suppress a laugh, drawing a hand lazily to the beak of his mask as if to try and hide it. Grian was still no good at disguising his voice, so he didn’t bother trying, fastening his hands to the side of his mask and removing it before HotGuy had enough time to process who was actually speaking. HotGuy’s face was worth every anxiety about revealing Poultry Man’s identity.

“Grian!” HotGuy squeaked, a positively delightful sound, “Why are you dressed up as Poultry Man! That- You tricked me! Identity theft is no joke! This is not cool!”

Grian gaped for a moment, mouth opening and closing dumbly, “I- Are you joking.”

“I just told you this is no joke!”

“I am Poultry Man, Scar. HotGuy. Whatever you’re called. I have literally always been Poultry Man.”

“Poultry Man has been around for years!” HotGuy was so genuine, so annoying- Grian was almost offended. Maybe he was offended, actually- What was HotGuy playing at? Was it so impossible to believe he had multiple alter egos?

“Uh, yeah,” Grian finally huffed, rolling his eyes, “So have I.”

“You’re- why?” HotGuy sounded so distressed, so confused, and altogether Grian just couldn’t help but laugh. It was so stupid! He couldn’t stop laughing, arms across his stomach, kicking his feet a bit, talons scratching up the roof of the already beat up car.

“Come on,” Grian wheezed, “Is it really so hard for you to believe?”

“I- Yes! You guys- Poultry Man is noble. Poultry Man is a nuisance, but he has things to say! He has depth. CuteGuy is just a fucking dick!”

“Wow,” Grian drew the world out in fake offense, spreading his wings as he leaned back on the car’s roof, “Maybe you’ve misunderstood Poultry Man all along. Maybe he’s just as evil and uncaring as CuteGuy. They are friends after all, good friends, close.”

“No! CuteGuy was a bad influence on him, that’s all, he just didn’t have many other people to turn to.”

“You know you’re talking about the same person.”

“I- I know that!” HotGuy seethed, like this was quite possibly the most meaningful betrayal he had ever experienced. The little stories he’d made up about Poultry Man, entirely false. It was almost pitiful, really. HotGuy had no idea how to cope, Grian could see it as clearly as the conflict in his face.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Grian crooned, sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, “Did you like him? Look up to him, even? And all this time you had no idea it was all just lil ol’ me.”

“I didn’t- I don’t look up to Poultry Man. I thought I could help him. I wanted to help him. I don’t- I still don’t think he’s a bad guy!”

“Nothing like CuteGuy, cold and sharp and mean, no, no,” Grian teased, “Denial is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

“I am serious! It doesn’t matter if Poultry Man and CuteGuy and Grian are all technically the same body, you are not the same people, just like HotGuy and civilian HotGuy are not the same.”

“Uh, pretty sure that’s not true, bud. That’s all just Grian, along with every other pseudonym I’ve held over the years.”

“What- really?” HotGuy stopped short, like this was completely foreign to him, “They’re all the same to you? Wait a minute, there’s more? Is every avian supervillain in this city just you? How many alter egos do you have!?” HotGuy puffed up, and Grian snickered.

“I am so glad you asked! My biggest escapade was probably the whole Mooners cult with Mumbo- do you remember? He was the head of course, but I was his faceless right hand man-“

“You know Mumbo?”

“We are roommates in college. I haven’t talked to him in a while though, and given the ‘retirement,’ I’m assuming he probably wouldn’t want to catch up regardless.”

HotGuy groaned loudly into his hands, “The Mooners were so annoying! Do you even know how much damage you two caused with that? People don’t function right when they don’t sleep!”

“Oh, it was a trip. It was awesome. And don’t think I don’t remember you attending our first couple meetings.”

“Yeah, when I thought it was a fun sleepover event thing- no one sleeps during sleepovers, everyone knows that! You guys were weird and crazy and everyone was partying- it was awesome.”

“Uh huh, and you drew quite a bit of attention to us, thanks for that.”

HotGuy groaned again into his hands and Grian snickered from his perch, pleased.

“Less successful was The Entity, but that was still quite a bit of fun. That massive rock I found just outside of town? It was a cool rock. And suddenly, I’m a prophet! People love a good Horror, and boy did I deliver. Flesh and guts and a horrifying puppet of a man, me. I bet I could have gained a bigger following, but I got bored. Still though, I think my favorite stunt I’ve ever pulled off was blowing up the whole thing and disappearing without a trace. I’m not going to tell you how I got my claws on dynamite, but that whole thing was fucking awesome. In the middle of the night, the whole rock, gone. And after- everyone wanted to know! What happened to The Entity? To its prophet? People were feeling like they missed out, like they wished they could have been there before it all exploded. Maybe it didn’t matter how big the cult was in the first place, but how it will be remembered. You like making history, don’t you, HotGuy?”

“Oh my god.”

“Good story, huh?”

“I just can’t believe that was you. How many costumes do you have? Wasn’t that one like- awfully gorey, right? And you just sat out there covered in- I don’t even want to know.”

Grian preened, incredibly pleased. “It was gross. Cub knows about that one actually, only because I disappeared for like a month. Brought me food when I needed it, though, most of the time I was fine.”

HotGuy sighed, drawing his hands over his face. “Anything else?” He didn’t look particularly like he wanted to know, and Grian’s wings fluttered, deeply content.

“Nothing huge. A long time ago, years actually, I convinced a couple of people they were being haunted by salmon. Pretty funny. I actually brought that back recently, I just tormented this one guy- thought he was cursed by the ocean, it was great. Didn’t make headlines, but sometimes that’s not what matters in life.”

“You are- you’re fucking evil. Recently? When have you even had the time!?”

Grian cackled, trailing off into a snicker, “I make the time. I was also unemployed.”

“Ah. I guess that explains it..” HotGuy sighed, frowning gently, something distinctly distant. Honestly, it didn’t look like he was thinking about Grian at all, which was a little annoying; he’d just confessed to being like five different criminals, if not legal crimes, then surely social ones, and HotGuy didn’t even look like he cared! (And listen, Grian wasn’t some kind of whore for attention, but a little recognition would be nice, yeah? Yeah.) But HotGuy did look back up, some kind of quiet despondency behind those eyes. “And it doesn’t bother you?”

“What? Being a public nuisance? That doesn’t bother me at all.”

“No, your identities I mean. It’s all just.. Grian? Not any more complicated than that?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I feel like I’m lying under every name I take.”

Grian shrugged, “You are, aren’t you? So am I. Elaborate lies, kinda, all under one central person. I like to dress up and play pretend and cause problems, just like basically everyone else in this godforsaken city. We aren’t special.”

But HotGuy didn’t look satisfied, eyebrows knitting impossibly tight, “I don’t have a central person. I’m not anyone.”

“Your civilian identity?”

“He’s not real either.” HotGuy looked at his feet, and Grian didn’t really know what to do with that, nor did he understand.

“Oh. That’s wild.”

HotGuy made a bit of a strangled noise before squeaking out a small “Yeah?” He fiddled with his hands for a moment, pulling at the fabric of his gloves, “I don’t know, I didn’t realize.. How did you do that? Not feel.. lost.”

Grian’s lip curled, the question invoking a similar reaction as when he would open the fridge to the smell of something rotting, “I can not even begin to tell you how unqualified I am to talk to you about anything at all. That’s a problem for you and your therapist, pal.”

HotGuy looked briefly indignant at that, then deflated, a more unhappy look crossing his face. “I don’t have a therapist.”

“What? Why not?” Grian sat up, just about as genuinely surprised as someone could be at a confession like that. A lot of things he learned about HotGuy made very little sense, but that just may have been the biggest surprise yet.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A pretty straightforward one I think. There’s no way you’re not all sorts of fucked up, not with the sort of bodily trauma you’ve been through and the job you’re currently holding. And you’ve got, like, infinite money. And you never shut up. Why not pay someone to listen to you.”

“I am not ‘all sorts of fucked up,’” HotGuy scoffed, “I am fine. And I don’t have infinite money, geez. I don’t need a therapist.”

“You say that like you’ve got something against therapy. So you’re one of those guys. Ick.”

“I’m not- no, I am not ‘ick.’ I think therapy is great! Therapists help lots of people, probably just as many as I do, I’d say. They’re the real heroes, yeah?”

Grian rolled his eyes, throwing his head back in a sarcastically languid movement, “Oh, let me guess. You’re the type of person who encourages people to go and see a therapist, but when the same thing is said to you, you say something like ‘Ah, no, therapy just isn’t for me.’ Am I right? You don’t need to tell me, I know I’m right.”

“You are not- Listen! It’s just something that doesn’t work for me, okay? Nothing about that is appealing to me.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

Hotguy pursed his lips, defiant. “..No.”

Grian had to laugh, his voice losing its edge in favor of something more genuine, “Dude, you’d probably love it. I’m serious. You’d go crazy for therapy. I mean, it’s hard work sometimes, and it can be a little bit trying, but then you start hating yourself a little less, and if you’re not in the mood one week, there’s still a very nice lady across from you who you can just talk to about whatever you want! I can’t watch The Bachelor anymore, it’s bad for me, and also bad for Cub, but my therapy sessions have never been more derailed. Good times. Fun! Sometimes it feels like therapists don’t know a single thing about anything that isn’t, like, mental health- I swear I’ve explained things to her I was convinced were common knowledge like- a lot. It happens a lot.”

“You don’t.. You just talk about whatever you want?”

“Yeah! Honestly, for the first couple weeks, I don’t think I talked about myself more than three or four times and I was going twice a week. It’s not uncommon. If you want, I can give you the name of the clinic I go to. I like the people there.”

“I.. I don’t know. I don’t really have the time, and I can talk to anyone about anything if I wanted to for free. I don’t know. And my issues are like- pretty intertwined with my identities, which I can’t really talk about.”

“Sure you can. It’s all confidential unless you’re hurting yourself or others, basically. Like, legally confidential. You can tell all you want about your different identities and your therapist can’t say a thing. I don’t tell about my alter egos for obvious reasons, but that’s not where my issues stem from anyway. But lately, I have been dipping my toes into talking about the superhero business, mostly because it’s pretty relevant to the things I’ve been feeling lately.”

“You talk about me?” An innocent question, one that Grian couldn’t help but laugh sharply at.

“Uh, yeah. You come up. We got a little off track for a minute there, but that’s kind of why I’m here in the chicken costume. I’m about to knock your socks off in a minute, seriously. Eugh. I don’t even want to say it. Makes me a little sick to my stomach, honestly, but I brought you all the way out here and revealed basically every misdeed I’ve ever committed to you, so. Surely this won’t be as hard..” Grian trailed off for a moment, pursing his lips, “No. This is harder. This is so much harder.”

HotGuy threw him an apprehensive smile, shrugging, “You’re making me nervous, here. I’m not actually wearing any socks, but for the sake of this I’ll pretend.” HotGuy ran a hand through his hair, and Grian couldn’t suppress a small chuckle when tiny amounts of glitter floated down.

“Well, HotGuy, I haven’t been very nice to you.”

HotGuy’s eyes jumped up, his attention sufficiently grabbed. He looked awkward then, the hand returning to his hair. “I.. think I would agree..” He took a quick breath, like he was unsure if that was the right thing to say.

Grian gritted his teeth, then let go, breathing deeply, “I want to change that.”

“Oh!” HotGuy threw his hands up in front of his chest, an unfairly endearing reaction of surprise, his eyes as wide as saucers, “I-I mean- You don’t have to-”

Grian threw his head back in a loud cackle, “Seriously?”

“No! No I didn’t mean that. Sorry- I didn’t know how to react to that. That. This is new for me. Did you stop disliking me? Don’t answer that. I’m confused. I don’t understand. I would like very much if you were nice to me. Well. Nicer. You don’t even have to be nice, but it would be cool if you acted like you hated me a little less.”

Grian waved a hand, silencing the nonsense blabber from a very embarrassed looking HotGuy. “I’ve been treating you unfairly, and it has very little to do with you as a person. You’ll never hear me repeat this, and if you ask anyone I’ll deny it, but I don’t think you’re actually a shitty guy. You’re an alright guy, maybe even less bad than I thought you were before we met properly. Maybe even better than most superheroes, but the bar is low, okay, don’t let that get to your head.” Grian took a breath, and HotGuy just stared, stunned, so when he didn’t say anything, Grian went on.

“Jealousy is a tame word I think. Envy doesn’t feel right either. I was.. deeply, viscerally angry, in all the physically animal ways I can not even begin to describe to you. And that’s not.. gone. It won’t leave, it’s just a part of me and I have to find a way to cope with it that’s not being a massive prick to you and Cub, but mostly you. Because you made a move on him before I even understood what I was feeling, feelings I had never considered before because I had never been afraid of losing him like that. I never had a reason to be so possessive before, because I was the only person.. I don’t know. But I think you understand. I’ve been in love, and didn’t really recognize it because neither of us really had anyone else to love, right?”

HotGuy opened his mouth to speak, but Grian cut him off with a shake of his head, “Don’t. Not yet. I’m not done. Yesterday morning I made this decision, that I was going to take him out and try to win him back, yeah? Delusional things, and I knew just as much, but I couldn’t fight it, I couldn’t let it go, and then yesterday afternoon, it kind of just.. hit me. I don’t want to ‘win him back’ from anyone, or anything like that. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were, selfishly, when we were both lonelier, unhappier people. And then I realized, hey, wait a minute, there’s something I want more than that, more than anything I could ever want for myself. I want Cub to be happy. I want him to step out of his shell, date superheroes, maybe even get his heart broken, as long as he’s living, y’know? And I want to live too, I want to put myself out there and meet people and try things I can’t do when I’m at home. Things I couldn’t do before, when it was just me and Cub, kind of miserable and kind of lonely, just stagnating, y’know?”

“You’re saying a lot of words, Grian, and I’m not understanding most of them.”

Grian chuckled into his hand, then sighed, the smile fading, “Cub didn’t want me to tell you this, but I think it’s important that you know, for transparency’s sake. I love him. And he loves me too, yes, like that. And I told him because I couldn’t keep it a secret, because I just couldn’t handle it anymore, and not because I was trying to force my way between you two, and I want you to believe me, so I’ve been honest, I’ve told you everything, all my secrets, all my crimes. I had no idea how he felt, and I don’t think he knew very much either. We’re so close, you have to understand. It was hard to even see it, not before everything was thrown into question, and suddenly things are changing and you’re feeling and you don’t even know what’s going on. But I think I know what would happen, HotGuy, if we acted on those feelings. If we let everything go back to normal, except maybe with a few more stolen kisses, and really, I mean it when I say a few, we are not the most physically inclined people; more lazy than anything.”

Grian stopped himself, realizing HotGuy was looking a bit pale. “Maybe I should cut to the chase. We talked it over for a long time and we both agree we don’t want things to be the way they were before. We don’t want to stagnate and rot away, to have each other, but nothing else, y’know? And I’m afraid of change. I’m afraid of you. But I want to let you in. And he wants you too.”

“Like- Like a polycule?”

“I- No! No-” Grian had to laugh, too startled to do much else, “I guess I could have worded that a little better. No, I mean you and Cub. I think you and Cub should have the chance to love each other, if you still want that.”

“I’m poly, Grian.”

“Goodness- Scar, please, not necessary,” Grian covered his face, struggling to contain his laughter, mostly bubbling up from nerves now, which unfortunately, was painfully obvious, “You don’t love me, and I mean it when I say I don’t want to get in the way. I want you to have this. I want Cub to have this.”

“I could love you. I think I could.”

Grian stared, possibly gaping, though he had no idea. He might have been flustered if his brain hadn’t factory reset itself right then and there. At some point he remembered to breathe, and had to take a couple of moments to do that in silence.

When there was sufficient air in his lungs, he looked up. “But you don’t. And I don’t love you either. And that’s okay, Scar. That’s okay.” Grian felt his voice buckle, the first and last warning he was going to cry, and damn it he didn’t want to, he really hadn’t wanted to cry, but he hadn’t been prepared for this, he was not prepared to be forgiven like it was effortless, to be told he could be loved.

“Grian I- fuck it-” To Grian’s great alarm, HotGuy began to fiddle with his mask, a motion Grian recognized from HotGuy’s first meeting with Cub.

“Whoa! No, no! Don’t- Don’t do anything you’re going to regret, please!” Grian hopped off the car, waving his arms, but HotGuy didn’t listen, breaths coming harshly from his nose. Grian couldn’t stop him before the mask was off, though, even with his face fully bared, Grian didn’t see anything that particularly shocked him. He still didn’t recognize HotGuy from anyone he’d seen on the street, which made perfect sense. Civilian HotGuy probably blended right in. Though a few things stood out, like his eyes, the same striking green as his brother’s, and a few scars that were obscured by the mask, though, that was no surprise. But HotGuy seemed distressed at Grian’s non-reaction, looking near panic as he jumped back.

“Do you- makeup wipes, do you have makeup wipes?”

His panic was infectious, Grian fumbling over his words, “Not on me, I don’t just carry them around.”

“I don’t either!” HotGuy hissed before making a decisive noise, rubbing at his face with his gloved hands instead. “Whatever.”

“HotGuy- Scar, please, you don’t have to do this-” Grian wanted to pull HotGuy’s hands away, but at the same time, couldn’t bring himself to touch the other, “This feels bad, Scar.” But HotGuy didn’t stop, fingers raking over the places where he had covered up scars. And other spots too, where he seemed to have meticulously sculpted lines across his face that just weren’t real- Grian had never noticed, it was so well done.

“I don’t want this anymore! I don’t want to be a secret! I want to be like you, I want you to know me!” But still, Grian was too distressed with this display to properly look at him, which only seemed to upset HotGuy further, growing more and more hysterical, “Grian!”

“I don’t know what you want, HotGuy!”

“Grian, please!” And that was different. Distinctly, world-rockingly different, that was not HotGuy’s voice. That was not HotGuy.

Grian was pretty sure he yelled, soft and then loudly, very loudly, a violent crescendo as he backpedaled anywhere away, away, get away, at all costs get away from the man using Micah’s voice, from Micah in HotGuy’s uniform, frantic and frightened, but above all else, deeply, deeply relieved.

Tripping on flapping wings, it took a second for Grian to be airborne, screaming his distress all the way into the sky, movements uneven and exhausting, but panic did little else but put him in the clouds, flying anywhere as long as it was away.

Poultry Man was a chicken, afterall.

by the way, if you are one of the people reading only this specific story (as indicated by the 3/3) and are interested to know more or what happens next, there is more, and there will be more after this, and you can find all of it on ao3 here

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #hermitfic #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan #cubfan135 #scarian #cubscar #cubscarian #convexian #hotguy #cuteguy #poultryman #poultry man #hermitshipping

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chloessleepystories · 1 year ago

Text

Reckoning Day

Male/female, female/female, female domination, mind control

It was a typical quiet day on my typical quiet suburban street. Birds singing, a lawnmower somewhere. But there were two things that were not typical.

In my driveway, at a time when there’s usually no one home, there were two cars. One, my wife’s.

And one, my girlfriend’s.

I barely had the engine off before I was leaping from my car and sprinting toward the front door. It was either that, or head for the hills, which was frankly tempting.

I paused on the doorstep, getting my breathing under control. Was this “Honey I can explain” or simply “Hi, ladies, whatcha talking about?” After all, my wife knew Sam – they weren’t friends, exactly, but they knew each other. I couldn’t think of a reason they’d be hanging out, or anything, but this wasn’t necessarily the “Do you know what your husband has been up to” moment.

I opened the door gently, walked in, made a tentative “Hello?” No answer. Nobody in the living room, which was very surprising.

“Honey?” I called, gently.

Nobody in the kitchen.

“Baby?” I whispered.

Suddenly, a noise upstairs – it sounded like ... a moan?

I hurried upstairs, confused, trying to shift mentally from one TV cliché to another. What was happening? Down the hall, quickly but silently, toward the bedroom. Burst through the open doorway ...

And stopped dead.

My girlfriend was lying in the queen sized bed, the bed where I’d repeatedly cheated with her – propped against the pillows, stark naked. Her long red hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, her legs were spread, and her oversized breasts stood high and mesmerizing on her chest. She was a vision, to captivate me all over again.

Between her legs ... lay my wife. Also nude. Her pert ass raised in the air, her blonde head down, buried in Sam’s pussy – she was gorgeous. My cock twitched, wanting to fuck her in this position.

“Rebecca, what the – what the fuck?? What’s going on?”

My wife ignored me, sucking and slurping on my girlfriend’s cunt. I could see Rebecca’s fingers working in her own sloppy pussy, between those beautiful upturned ass cheeks. Rebecca seemed oblivious to me ... But Sam didn’t. She smiled at me wickedly, as she had been since I walked in, and her eyes seemed unusually dark.

“She can’t hear you right now, Roger. Her mind is ... elsewhere, I guess you could say. She’s discovered her True Purpose.”

“trrue purfpofse” Rebecca murmured into the folds that had apparently trapped her tongue.

“What the hell is going on, Sam?” I shouted, as I kicked off my shoes.

“Quietly, love.”

“Is she drugged or something?” I hissed. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing she didn’t want me to do,” she said, and grinned. “Well, eventually, anyway.” Sam stroked the blonde head slurping at her juices, then moaned, convulsing a bit. “Oh, she’s good at this. I wonder if it’s not her first time after all ... Your wife is learning that it Feels Good to Serve.”

“feellss g’d tuh serff” came the muffled words.

I pulled my sweater over my head, angrier than ever. “But why?” I whispered. “Why would you do this?”

“Because I got tired of waiting, Roger! You said you wanted me and only me. You were going to dump this bitch, who nags you and never puts out, who thinks she’s so much smarter than you, and you were going to be mine. Well, what is taking so long!” Sam humped her clit repeatedly against my wife’s mouth.

Rebecca’s fingers worked harder at her drooling cunt as she whimpered at the pleasure of serving. The mindless pleasure of being used ... For a moment I could almost imagine the blank-minded bliss of feeding from Sam’s exquisite pussy while stroking myself stupid ...

I shook myself mentally, as I unbuttoned my shirt. There was no doubt that Sam was hot. And I really had been thinking I preferred her to my wife. But this – whatever this was – was unconscionable. This was over the line.

“You are crazy!!” I said in the loudest whisper I could manage. “You really think I could be with you after you – you did whatever to my wife?? Stop this now, please, I – I’ll do whatever you want.”

Sam just smiled. “I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want to release such a Dutiful Hypnoslut.”

“dooful hypofflut”

“Dutiful Hypnoslut,” I murmured, taking off my pants.

Look at them, I thought. The two most beautiful women in the world to me. Naked. One in thrall to the other. Helpless ... It was so ... arousing ...

I fought down that train of thought as I worked my underwear over my erection.

“Rebecca! Rebecca honey! Listen to me! We’re leaving! Snap out of it!”

“Roger ... “ Sam purred. “Sshhh.”

My mouth snapped shut.

“And relax. It’s not a big deal.”

My body relaxed, tension easing. I was still angry, still confused, still scared ... But I couldn’t access it now.

“Your wife is going to serve me. I’m quite – mmmm – enjoying what she’s doing, and I don’t want it to stop. And you should have figured out by now that I get what I want ... So you have a choice. You can leave, or you can stand there quietly while she brings me to an orgasm.”

Well, what could I do? I couldn’t leave. Who knew what might happen? So I convinced myself that it was best to stay.

You know, just for a little while.

Til they were done.

I watched my wife’s beautiful bottom as it swayed, watched my girlfriend’s full breasts bounce as she got closer to cumming from my wife’s tongue ... I was harder than I ever had been in my life. Sam, opening her eyes as she gasped, noticed.

“Mmmmm look how big and hard you are. Go on, look.”

I looked down. I was naked except for my socks, and my erection was pointing straight out at the two women on the bed. The information seemed to come from a long way away – I’m naked. When did that happen. Was this important information? I couldn’t decide.

Sam grinned, reading my mind. “Don’t worry about it. You like watching us, don’t you.” I nodded. “You need to stroke it while you watch, don’t you.” I nodded again. But I didn’t touch my cock yet. Something was missing, but I couldn’t remember what.

“You have my permission.” Ah yes, that was it. “Go ahead and jerk it to the sight of your stupid cunt of a wife in thrall to my pussy. She’s my pussy slave, isn’t she, pet? And that’s sooo arousing ... “

It was. I mindlessly grasped my throbbing cock in my fist and started stroking. I was getting close, almost as close as Sam, from the sound of it. And Rebecca, too, come to that – she seemed more aroused than I had heard her for years, just from the privilege of slurping on girl juices.

“Roger ...” Sam gasped out. “Why don’t you go fuck your wife from behind.”

That sounded like a great idea. I shuffled toward that pert ass, following my cock like a dowsing rod. I was almost touching her when Sam snapped her fingers and said “Bad boy.”

My boner instantly deflated – it went completely limp and small in seconds. Sam cackled with laughter. “I didn’t say Simon Says!! Hahaha ... Oh I love doing that. Oh poor baby ... Look at your face. OK.” She snapped again. “Good boy.”

Within seconds I was hard as a rock again. “Go ahead,” she said. “Stick it in.”

I laid my hand on Rebecca’s ass. The head of my throbbing, dripping cock barely touched her soaking pussy lips ... And Rebecca screamed and pulled away. Her first sign of even being aware of me since I walked in!

Sam howled with laughter, rolling around on the bed as Rebecca sat back on her haunches, her shiny face slick with drool and pussy juice and her expression one of anger and confusion.

“Yeah, I should have told you!” Sam wiped a tear from her eye. “Aaahhh heh heh ... Your wife belongs to me now.”

“What?”

“Tell him, Fuckslut.”

Rebecca’s eyes unfocused, and she spoke in a monotone. “My cunt belongs to Sam. I am a lesbian now. I hate the feeling of cocks touching my body.”

Sam grinned wickedly. “But ... ?”

“But I will happily accept cocks in all my holes if Mistress commands.”

My cock was throbbing harder than ever at my wife’s glazed expression ... And at her words.

“So, my pet,” said Sam, standing up gracefully and slinking toward me. “Here are the new rules. This ...” – she stroked my aching member with one finger, making me twitch and moan – “belongs to me, and me alone. I decide what you do with that. I may share it, but that is up to me. Understand?”

I nodded. She squeezed it, catching some of my dripping precum on her fingers. “Second ...” She walked to Rebecca, stuffing those fingers into my wife’s mouth, and smiling as she watched her eagerly, mindlessly suck. “Becca is my obedient slave girl now. When she’s like this, she does as she’s told. That means if I want you to never touch her cunt again, I can make that happen. But I can also make her insatiable for your cock, and need fucking every night.”

Sam reached down to stuff 3 fingers in her pussy, then fed her juices to my wife, all while she continued to look me in the eye. “I can hand her over to a motorcycle gang of lesbians and make her a titslave for a week. I can make her fuck 7 black guys, one after the other, while you watch, unable to do anything but stroke yourself, without cumming. Screaming obscenities at her weakling husband while she’s made airtight by gangbangers.”

She scooped out more of her own juices and smeared them on Rebecca’s right breast. “I can give you the doting, dutiful wife you always wanted, serving you and pleasing you and never jealous that you’re sleeping with me too.” She stuffed her fingers into Rebecca’s cunt, making her gasp, and almost fall forward ... Then smeared her juices on her left nipple. “I can make her a house slave for both of us, cooking and cleaning and serving our food, edging while watching us fuck but never, ever allowed to cum.”

I watched my wife’s face. Her mind was far away, but there was a tension behind her eyes ... And she was sweating.

“Come here, pet. Taste your wife’s tits and tell me which tastes better.”

I crawled across the bed, sucking on each nipple. They tasted about the same, but of course I picked the right breast.

“Good boy. Lie down.”

I lay on the bed, my throbbing erection pointing to the ceiling. Sam straddled me. “I can do anything I want to this bitch,” she said, taking my cock in her hand. “I can play with her, and then put her back, and have her not even remember what I did. Or what we did ... Wouldn’t it be nice to help me call the shots? Instead of being another plaything?”

She lined it up, then sank down on my rigid cock. My eyes rolled back in my head immediately as my senses went white from overload for a moment. “It all depends on you, my love,” she was saying. “Are you going to be my willing partner? Will you be mine? I’ll let you keep the cuntslave around, as long as you remember I’m alpha around here ... Cunt!” she barked. “Sit on his face. Feed him that delicious pussy, and dream of getting fucked by his cock ...”

My wife scrambled to straddle my face with more sexual enthusiasm than I’d seen from her in years. “Yes Mistress!”

“So ...” I gasped out, as her thighs cradled my head. “You can make her serve part-time, and give her back her normal life the rest of the time? Still be herself, with free will?”

Sam laughed her throaty laugh, and her cunt squeezed my cock as Rebecca’s engorged, dripping pussy slid onto my tongue. “Silly pet,” she cooed. “Haven’t I given you your free will for all these months?”

I could hear Rebecca moan as she – from the sound of it – sucked on Mistress’s full, beautiful breast. Sam started to move, riding my cock, and I somehow knew I would not be allowed to cum until she gave me permission.

“And you can’t imagine the things I’ve made you forget ... “

Hey folks - do you like those little notes at the top, labeling what's in this story, kinkwise? Like it, don't like it, don't care? Let me know - thanks!

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briar-ffxiv · 2 months ago

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FFXIV Write #18 - Hackneyed

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #18 - Hackneyed

Note: How Briar got his first animal friend, his chocobo!

Trigger Warning: Mention of drunks, animal injury, and bullying. Mild, but present, so be aware.

Some years before ARR...

Briar kept his head down, shoulders tight as he tried to avoid being noticed. It was relatively safe at Buscarron's Druthers. Still, there were always those who saw a young, skinny half-Elezen with nervous eyes and wanted to cause trouble. Some of it was just simple mocking, but it wouldn't be the first time a drunk bandit or the like got physical with him. For a mercy, he seemed unnoticed today as he clutched the straps of his pack, full of little odds and ends for trade.

His ears worked back and forth, alert twitches as his gaze darted around, making sure he avoided bumping into anyone or being snuck up on. He should have ignored the voices since they weren't directed at him, but he paused midstep when a gruff, irritated voice caught his attention.

"Nophica's tits!" the man said, half-snarling under his breath. "Stupid bird. You nearly dumped the cart and me!"

The sad 'kweh' Briar heard in response had him turning his head. It was a shabby little cart, pulled by a ragged-feathered chocobo balancing awkwardly on one leg. The apparent owner was dressed in rough clothing and had the slight sway of one who drank often through the day. The drunk jerked the reins when the chocobo shifted, wincing away from a man squeezing and tugging at the bird's injured leg.

"Not broken," the man grunted, ignoring the bird's weak protests. "Don't think anyway. Nasty swelling though. He'll need lots of rest to--"

"Feh!" the drunk said, spitting to the side in disgust. "Like I'm going to waste good gil trying to tend some hackneyed old gelding." He scoffed and shook his head. "Put him down. There's always someone to buy the meat. Might be old, but make all right stew."

Briar sucked in a soft, shocked breath at the man's cold indifference to the chocobo. Especially considering that despite the rough treatment and clear pain the bird was in, it was still docile and obedient. The gelding was doing his best to please, giving a sad little chirrups as dark eyes watched the drunk closely. Yet the person the bird depended upon was going to callously end the gelding's life without even an effort.

"W-wait!" Briar said, surprising himself. For a moment, he almost wanted to take it back at the look the drunk gave him, but the chocobo's stumbling steps as the man started to jerk him toward the forest gave him courage. "Wait," he said again, stepping closer to the pair and the gelding. "I-I'll take him."

The gelding's owner sneered at him. "Take him? Why should I--"

"Buy him," Briar clarified, lifting his chin and clenching his hands around his pack to steady himself. "I'll b-buy the chocobo."

The drunk gave Briar a measuring look and the half-Elezen was used to the disdain. He knew he was small, skinny, dressed in homespun clothing that was too big, and looked 'half-wild' according to most. Being called a 'wildling' wasn't uncommon, even if it wasn't accurate. At the very least, he seemed to be treated as a pariah by most.

"I have coin," Briar confirmed, defiantly meeting the man's gaze.

"...How much?" the drunk sneered, but a look of greed showed in bloodshot eyes.

Briar froze for a moment. He'd never really had experience with bartering and was little judge on the worth of things in coin. He understood people used coins, but his mother had always bartered. He always found it a little strange that people put so much worth on coins since coin couldn't be eaten or used for much of anything. Buscarron had been trying to teach him in the last year, but it was still a baffling concept to him.

When he noticed the drunk's impatient shifting, Briar frantically recalled how much the Quarrymill butcher had given him for a deer he'd hunted. Biting his lip, Briar blurted out a number twice that. "S-surely that is more than his m-meat would bring."

The drunk grunted, but Briar watched his eyes dart back and forth, clearly considering. The half-Elezen tried not to shift nervously as the drunk stared at him for a long moment. He tried not to noticeably release a breath when the man finally spoke.

"Show me the coin."

Briar dug into a small bag at his waist, quickly counting the gil. It was most of what he had, but he didn't let that bother him. He flinched a bit as it was snatched away, examined closely, and then shoved into the drunk's pockets.

"Fine," the man sneered, throwing the reins at Briar hard enough he flinched at the sting of the leather. The drunk marched off. "Take the damn cart too. No use without the bird anyway." The other man followed him with a bored shrug, heading toward the tavern.

Then Briar realized he suddenly had a chocobo. A chocobo he had no real place to keep or idea on how to care for. An injured chocobo that gave a confused, sad chirp as his master walked off. The bird blinked at Briar, giving a questioning kweh as the gelding shifted back and forth, trying to favour the swollen leg.

Biting his lip, Briar moved closer, reaching up to slowly stroke the gelding's neck. The little flinch at the first touch made his heart ache for the poor chocobo. "Hello, friend," he said softly. "It's all right. I promise. You don't have to worry anymore and you're not going to be stew either."

The gelding canted his head to study Briar before giving a soft chirrup and leaning down to nuzzle Briar's arm.

And just like that, it was worth every coin and more.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2024 #character: briar redfeather #character: kyree the chocobo #my writing

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leahnardo-da-veggie · 6 months ago

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The Wanderer: Homesick

This one's a side-story for something I submitted for a magazine... Enjoy! (Also warning for angy teen girl swearing)

I sat on the train, cheek pressed to the icy glass. Trees sped by me, a swathe of verdant greens and deep browns. The leather of the couch gave way under my knees, and I dug into it with my fingers.

I'd been scratching dates into that seat, one for each day. The entire couch was covered in etches now, cross hatching as far as the eye could see. Having counted them, I could safely say they totalled up to 730 marks. That would be two years.

Two years since I'd seen my parents. Two years since I'd seen my home. Two bloody fucking stupid years! Even thinking about it, I wanted to scream.

The goddamn train's incessant noise grated on my ears. If I had to see its gaudy golden facade again, I would gouge my eyes out. Every single destination along the damn train's mercurial routes was a godforsaken shithole!

Oh my gods, I hated it. I hated it in ways no human could truly express. I'd tried, of course. I wrote emo poetry, sang off-tune songs, and when all failed, screamed incoherently into the endless void. To truly understand the depths to which my sanity had fallen, one must first endure this abomination:

Roses are blue

Violets are red

Fuck this shit

I want it dead.

It's likely the closest I've come to conveying my frustrations. It's also likely the closest I've come to convince my fellow wanderers that I've gone mad.

Did I mention the wanderers? They're the worst. The absolute worst. Psychos, the lot of them. We had Mr ‘Maya-be-a-lady’, Ms Magic-is-real-and-birds-are-a-conspiracy, Dr I-drown-babies-for-fun, and worst of all, Mx Doppelganger. Creepy ass bitch.

If I could meet whatever bitch put me in here, I'd tell them one thing: Fuck you. Fuck everything. Fuck the stupid train, the stupid people on it, and the stupid fucking places I kept getting dumped into.

I hate it all so much. I just want to go home. You know what I've missed in the past two years? My friends will have graduated. My cousin's probably turning two soon. I'm supposed to be in the University of Kristiania by now!

Everything I've ever worked for has been washed away. What was the point of learning trigonometry when the only triangles I'm ever going to see belong to interdimensional horrors trying to eat me?! I was set to win last year's Informatic Olympiad. I was so close.

But that's not the worst. (Oh gods, how bad is my life, that losing my future isn't the worst?) The worst is homesickness. I want to hear Qi's whining over her crappy grades. I wanna listen to Pam bitch about her latest boyfriend. I want to come home and eat my mom's porridge and study maths while metal blasts in my headphones.

I want the good and the bad. I don't care if I get yelled at by Mr Lim for failing physics again. I'd probably hug old Aunt Beatrice if she showed up and called me fat. Hell, I would give anything, anything to have my glasses broken by a stray football again, even if the glass goes into my eye.

I miss home. I… I hope I can go home soon. (Oh gods, I'm pathetic.)

Fun fact: She did not get to go home soon.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

#writeblr #writing #my writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writing community #fantasy #spilled ink #short story

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casualwriters · 2 years ago

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"Best friends" | Richie Valdovinos x reader

summary - After the Accident at the Halloween party you find Richie upset at the beach and you comfort him not figuring out he used to have a crush on you growing up as next-store neighbors.

Warning- none

- All the gifs go to the right full owners support them pls 💗

SPOILERS FOR RISE OF PINK LADIES EPISOSE 5

Falling on the ground as the emergency alarm howls in the light, next to you was Hazel and Wally, "Are you okay!" You dropped your arms from covering Hazel, she nodded towards you and Wally. "You okay Y/n," Wally asked you nodding then looking out the window to see fireworks, "fireworks?" You said to the two of them who were watching them with you

"I have to go," you say to the other two trying to find your friends, as you bolted out of the party, everyone was leaving thinking this was the real war coming but it was some stupid prank. Stepping outside you saw Jane and Richie, arguing "What is going on" you whisper running into Richie who already turned around on Jane. His face was sad and disappointed maybe because of Jane, you and Richie grew up together childhood best friend Olivia and him, but all three of you grew out of touch when you hit high school,

the cliches and being a Square or a Greeser you guys grew apart and you regretted that seeing Richie looking at you a smile came across your face "i have a place that cheer you up" saying to him Richie Scoffed "Doll i don't think the Frosty Palace, will cheer me up" he scoffs. Punching his shoulder you glared at him snagging Gill Keys from the tire "not there" you laughed twirling the keys around your index fingers "i show you". The car ride was quiet for the time of driving to the beach not far from you and Richie neighborhood it was a peaceful drive the radio was playing some Blues music that was popular for the time parking the car on the beach you looked at him he was smiling

"Wow doll dame i haven't been here in forever." Chuckling "since all of us were twelve" Both of you remembered the memories " oh man don't forget when i dump both you in the water! " Folding your arms annoyed " Richie Valdovinos! I had water in my ears for a week! " He shrugs " good you couldn't hear Oliva blabbing away" laughing " oh be nice,

"what happened tonight Rich " you asked him. Richie always appreciates you cutting to the chase and being straight up with him, it was one of the things he missed about you.

"Jane only cares about this fucking Election, i am like a dog she calls whenever i am relevant" Listening to him you Knew Jane She was such a sweet girl but throughout the weeks and dealing, with the election she wasn't the same girl!" he kicked the front of the car "and I saw her and Buddy, all cuddling She made a fool out of me Y/n!"

"Rich hey ever she did you don't know her side of it, you can't just jump the gun" Richie knew you were right, you were always right mending fights with him and Olivia, or separating conflict or fights. "I know, I know he looked over to see your hands covering your costume like you were cold he frowned and said.

"Here" he shakes off his T-Bird Jacket and drapes it over your shoulder. "but" he scoffs " No Buts or If's" he says "why did you give this to me wouldn't you rather, give it to Jane." he chuckled "I tried you were my second choice" he grins grabbing his Comb and brushing the strands of hair out of his face. "What do you mean by that?" you said your cheeks were flushing red right now. Richie looked over "it so stupid how clueless you were when we were younger "

"I had a crush on you a y/n" he chuckled putting the comb back in its rightful place. You stayed quiet listening to him talking it wasn't just one sided you thought to yourself.

"but I knew you were too good for me, sweet and caring that's why we stopped talking well, till tonight, what made me happy was even. When we were in a different, clicks or friend group you saw me upset and still wanted to check up on me, doll ." "it what I do" you smile at him "it wasn't one sided" you said to him, causing him to laugh nervously "oh all right" he saw you yawning has he chuckled " want me to drive, you home Princessa" nodding " yes please".

The drive back was laughing and talking just trying to catch up and make Richie's night better, he pulled into your driveway and smiled "See you later alright" You opened the door and got out

"only if you're lucky,"

you say to him he started the car up and drove away hoping, this could happen again.

#richie valdovinos #rise of the pink ladies #olivia valdovinos #nancy nakagawa #cynthia zdunowski

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bouquet-of-flow3rs · 2 days ago

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!Pairing: Cat-Hybrid Yoongi x Reader!

Genre: Angst to fluff

Wc: 1,619

Warnings, Reader is dense af, gn-reader, dead headless bird (may they rest in piece), [let me know if I missed anything]

[A/n: This is my first work so it may not be my best work and its a bit short but I hope you enjoy it.]

________________________________________

You woke up from your nap in a startle, there was a loud thud coming from somewhere in your apartment, being the dumbass you are you slowly tiptoed your way down the hallway past Yoongi's room and the bathroom, you took notice that your hybrid Yoongi was nowhere to be seen which was odd because he usually preferred to laze around on the window seat in your room.

<<<<<<<<<<<<flash back>>>>>>>>>>>>

The day before you had noticed him acting a bit funny he would constantly take glances at you with his sharp feline eyes as you sat at the desk in your room and worked on the loads of work your stupid boss had been dumping on you all week, but his glances weren't the only thing you had noticed as he jumped off the window seat landing on his black paws in his shifted form and tangled himself around your ankles his sleek, black fur shedding all over your black leggings, you didn't mind so much seeing as you were wearing lounge clothes consisting of leggings and a random shirt you've had since high-school.

But as he butted his head against your calf you noticed him being more affectionate than normal to you, now normally this wouldn't set off any alarm bells but seeing as how Yoongi usually preferred to be on his own and kept to himself, this was definitely a bit strange but you shrugged it off thinking he wanted you to set out his favorite blanket which was black in color and extremely plush and fluffy onto the window seat, so you got up making sure you didn't step on his tail and stretched your arms up towards the roof in an attempted to pop your back (which didn't pop unfortunately) you gave up and walked over to your bed picking up his blanket and setting on the soft cushions of the seat, you also decided to open your blinds to let the orange light from the sunset outside seep into your room.

Going back to work was a pain and Yoongi ignored the blanket completely and continued to rub up against you so you reached down under your desk and gave a few strokes to his soft, black fur before getting back to work, you heard him huff at you and lightly chuckled to yourself as you focused back on the screen.

you had only looked at your screen for a few seconds before Yoongi jumped up onto your desk blocking your view and taking a seat of your laptops keyboard successfully making the document you were working on close, you stared disbelievingly at Yoongi and you swore you saw him smirk at you, you were sure that if he was in his human form he most definitely would've being smirking at you for successfully ruining your work.

You groaned out before picking Yoongi up and walking out to your kitchen, you set him down on your island and turn to the fridge where you know you keep your shredded chicken for him, you take out the container and set it on the white marbled counter before opening one of the cupboards and taking out a small plate setting it down. You take a handful of the chicken and place it onto the plate, setting it down in front of him thinking that maybe he's hungry, but all he does is stare at the food with disinterest before looking up at you with a glare. You let out a sigh before speaking to him "look Yoongi, I really don't know what you want from me right now, I need to get my work done before tonight so I need you to either tell me what you want or get it for yourself and stop bugging me." You groaned out rubbing the bridge of your nose feeling a headache coming on.

He gave you another blank look before hopping off the island counter and walking down the hallway to what you assume is his room. You stand there for a minute still rubbing your face before you sigh out again and put the chicken you got out for him away. You decide to go back to your room and continue working, making sure to close your door and lock it as well as put headphones on to avoid being distracted further by your fluffy companion.

<<<<<<<<<<<flash back end>>>>>>>>>>

You peek around the corner of your hallway to your kitchen and see Yoongi in his human form cooking something on the stove, you see his black ears twitch and his tail sway to the music he has going on in the background, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding relieved it was just him and not some intruder robbing your house.

You knew that he knew you were there so you took a seat at one of the stools you kept by the island as you watched him cook. His face was scrunched like he was displeased. "Yoongi?" You ask softly, he lets out a grunt but continues ignoring you, so you pout, he's usually distant but he seems unhappier than usual. "Yoongi, love? Are you mad at something?" You try to get his attention but he continues ignoring you, you still see his ears twitch to face you and his tail sways more aggressively than before, "oh, so now you have time to pay attention to me?" He hisses out. Surprised by his behavior you sit up straighter in your seat watching him scrape at something on his pan aggressively. "I'm sorry...?" You tilt your head at him confused as to why he's upset with you, sure you didn't pay a lot of attention to him yesterday sure but you were busy with work and you still tried to do things for him.

"Fuck." You hear him curse under his breath before he slams the pan onto the burner of your stove, you jump at the loud sound and suddenly the loud thud you heard earlier makes more sense.

You stand up and take small steps towards him and gently take the pan out of his smooth hands lightly brushing your fingers against his as you take it from him. You then turn off the stove and dump the burnt crispy food into the trash before dousing the pan in cold water and setting it into the sink. You turn back to Yoongi to see him standing there, his shoulders slightly shaking before you realize he's crying.

You coo and walk over to him brushing his bangs out of his eyes and stroking his cheeks to wipe away his tears "Oh baby," you pout "can you tell me what's wrong, hm?" You try to coerce him into talking to you. He sniffles a bit before he finally speaks up, choking back his tears "Y-you-" he swallows again, "Me, what baby?" You try again, "I-I've been trying to court you all week, b-but you've been ignoring me." His whimpers out his voice cracking as he keeps his head down not even glancing up at you once, you stare at him in shock, you thought about yesterday with him constantly wanting to be around you and rub up against you, you knew hybrids did something called 'scenting' where they would rub up against other hybrids to leave their scent on them to warn others that they were taken but you had no clue they would do that with humans as well, you thought about earlier into the week when Yoongi had left a decapitated bird on your windowsill, which you had scolded him for, you had heard somewhere online that cats did this because they think their owners can't hunt for themselves but you thought Yoongi just wanted to annoy you, but even earlier than that when he built a comfy nest on your bed that you didn't even sleep in, because you had thought he wouldn't want you in it so you slept on the couch that night.

You felt so bad about your past actions but all you could do now was hold onto the weeping kitty and attempt to comfort him "Oh Yoonie baby," you whisper into his ears that are pinned to the top of his head "I'm so sorry baby, I promise I had no clue that's what you were doing." You try to comfort him but your words only seem to make him cry more. "S-see you didn't even care to notice that's what was happening, and even just barely I was trying to make you breakfast as a courting gift but you didn't even notice!" He sobs out whispering "stupid [y/n]." Under his breath even though he knew you could hear him, you titter softly at his words of how dumb you've been. "I know I've been dumb Yoonie, and I'm so sorry." You whisper to him, he huff tears still streaming down his now rosy cheeks as he tries to wiggle out of your grip "stop trying to escape my love~" you chuckle softly at his struggle as you hug him tighter, you peck the crown of his head "I'm really, truly sorry Yoonie but I really wasn't trying to reject you." You say softer this time and at your words he stiffens in your arms "Do you really mean that?" He questions softly, finally trying to take a peek at you to tell if you're lying “You weren't rejecting me?” He asks softly "I promise I mean it, I would be honored if you continued courting me." You muse at him, his eyes going wide and his cheeks flushing deeper "okay." He says softly melting into your embrace, finally hugging you back.

__________________________________

[A/n: Hello! Me again, I'm aware this piece is short and I plan to make future works longer, but I had to type this all on my phone instead of my pc so please excuse the shortness of it it seemed long to me haha]

#cat hybrid #yoongi fanfic #bts #x reader fic #gender nuetral reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #hybrid #hybrid x reader

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howdothoughtscollide · 1 year ago

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The Start Of An Unusual Friendship

Fyodor Dostoevsky x gn!reader (Platonic)

WARNING: mentions of child labor, reader is illiterate, mentions of slapping and family abandonment, my goofy side took over.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Part one of the Childhood friend au, I guess?

Diaphanous and aureate stripes of sunlight refracts through the green foliage, dappling the thick mattress of moss and grasses, dancing along with the vermillion and mauve hues of delicate flower petals. Serene wind, which carries along the effervescent chirping of birds, harmonizes with mellow humming of a lullaby mothers sing to their child, as it embrace you in the soothing warmth of summer.

As your feet set their steps on the soft and muddy path of the forest, your mind can not help but wander to a rumor concerning a boy in your village.

The village, where you were born, is a poor one. Adults who are unable to find a job and try to drink their sorrow away, children who have to do labor from a young age to provide for their family. But there is one house which seems to be well-off, since the husband works in the city.

The son of that family, who is weak since birth, instead of being thrown into the orphanage, or being dumped in the forest like other frail infants, is still loved by his parents and was taught how to read and write.

”That couple is so stupid. What’s the point in raising such a feeble child?” Your neighbor scrunched her face, clearly expressing her disdain. “All that money is better spent on themselves, or just making another kid who can bring food to the table.”

That’s adults’ remarks about him, a dissipation of money and time.

“You mustn’t ever come near or even play with that kid. It’ll spoil you, all you need is to think about what to eat tomorrow, not looking at useless paper and sitting around all day.”

That’s what your mother told you, a bad influence.

“He is super, super weird. Did you see him? He never moved at all, he looked like a dead person. People say if you see him moving, you need to run or he’ll turn you into a statue like him!!!”

That’s what your friends whisper to each other, a monster.

All of those warnings couldn’t stop you, not when your curiosity is piqued. Even if you’re turned into stone or something, it’ll certainly be worthwhile. And besides, someone who understands books must be very cool, because you’ve never really comprehended that jumbling mess.

Where was his hideout again?. You try to recall your friends’ vague description, hands pushing away the green that is covering your vision.

Is it here?. You peek through the tall bushes, eyes scanning the area.

Through the small gap between the leaves, your eyes went round, standing still as if you were actually petrified.

There he sits, ethereal and mesmerizing, mirroring that of an angel you once saw in an abandoned church, now a hangout place for kids in your village. Honeyed liquid sunlight dips his features in an almost apprational glow, a huge contrast to the stream of pure black pouring down around it. His slender fingers, which are brushing over the pages, despite having uneven nails, are clean and smooth, undoubtedly different from your dirty and calloused hands, a sign of manual labor for a long time. His long and delicate eyelashes cast shadow over the sea of hyacinth, which appears to be peering straight into your soul.

Wait a minute? Your little admiring session is suddenly halted. Is he … looking at me?!?!

The realization whacks you out of your stalled state, losing control of balance. Your hand attempts to grab a branch for stability, which is to no avail, as gravity sends you to a kiss with the ground.

You hiss from the previous intimate moment with mother earth, as you notice the soft pedicel clasped between your fingers.

A carnation??? Confusion is written all over your face. So this is the reason why the branch felt like it came off on a whim. No wonder you fell. Who thought it would be a good idea to pluck a flower and put it on a tree branch??? I swear if I found that person I-

Ah, sh*t. Your eyes met those violet ones again, and immediately your anger shrunk. Putting that idiot who decided a carnation would add on to the bland tree aside, you have a bigger problem.

You didn’t get turned into stone, but how you should even react when you’re caught staring at someone, nobody told you he’d be this beautiful, not at all.

“H-Hi.” You shoot him an awkward smile, the corner of your mouth twitching.

No answers were heard from him, and those eyes are burning holes in your face.

He must think I’m a weird and creepy kid who likes stalking people and watching them from a dark corner!!! You cry and scream internally, but you still try to save the last piece of dignity you have left in front of him.

“Uh…”. Slowly getting up, you’re about to utter the most sincere, heartfelt apology in your life.

“A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady.” You hold the carnation in his direction, eyes closing shut from the embarrassment.

THAT was not an apology.

Why did you say that, you dummy? You even used “lady”??? You slap your internal self.

It’s not my fault, that’s what I heard a guy apologized to his girlfriend the other day! They cried, justifying your actions.

Your eyebrows quirked in disbelief at you and your internal self’s stupidity, as you sign in defeat.

You open your eyes, ready to accept your fate of being called an abnormal kid. To your surprise, he appears to be unfazed, putting his attention on the book again.

Oh. You blinked. Is he nonchalant about everything? You threw away the humiliation you felt just seconds ago, replaced with curiosity. Now, you wonder if there is any way to break his composure, and how will you know if you don’t test it out?

My name is Fyodor Dostoevsky, and I love reading in the woods since it gives me just the right amount of tranquility.

Today, I was keeping with my usual routine when I sensed a pair of watching eyes behind the bushes. I stare back at them, but they seem to be so deep in thought they did not notice it.

Ah, they took note of my gaze.

Are they falling? Disheveled hair, dirty face, but no hints of injury so they must be fine. Are they seizing a flower in their hand? Anyways, I hope they’re spooked by my appearance and run away like other children. Then, I may continue reading, it’s getting to the climax of the story after all.

Why are they still here? They were stunned and baffled moments ago, now what are they doing??? Making weird faces, peeking at my book, tugging my hair, poking my face???Are they searching for a means to annoy me? What is the purpose of pursuing such reactions?

Well, I need some silence to read right now. If I keep up my cold and indifferent demeanor, they’ll eventually get bored and leave righ-

“BOO!”

The popped up voice in his head intruded the train of thoughts, making Fyodor jump from the log he was sitting on, and almost dropped his book. Fyodor turned his head to you, face mimicking that one of a startled stray cat in your village when you sneaked up behind to hug it.

Haha, did I go too far? You contemplate, since he is kinda similar to that cat now, on full alert and on the verge of scratching your face out with its claws as soon as you move by an inch.

Retreating the hand that was on his back, you curl it into a fist and cough into it to gain his attention.

“Ahem!So…”

So what? What exactly were you planning to say? I wanted to take a look at the supposed “demon”??? He’ll definitely tear my facial skin off if I told him that. Your pupils dilate, thoughts rushing over your head, attempting to come up with a way to break this unnerving silence.

Your body acted on instinct, and before you could have given any second thoughts, tucked the carnation behind his ear. “You look even more gorgeous with this crimson flower.”

Fyodor’s eyes got even wider, and you know you’ve been done for.

Just why didn’t you toss the flower away and still have it all this time??? He can understand why I did that, right?

Judging by his expressions, probably no.

I regret all my life decisions that led me to this, I wish I’d disappear right no-

“How did you do that?” The question dragged your mind, which had been considering extirpating yourself, back to your body.

“Do what?” Your eyes narrowed at him.

“You know, the… “boo” thing.” Fyodor collected himself, closing the book after placing the marker ribbon.

“Oh, that.” You’re sweating a bucket now.

You were too fixated on provoking him, that you had forgotten to hide your secret, one you promised your mom you’d bring it to the grave.

“Mom!!! Look at me, I can perform magic tricks!” You joyfully sprinted to your mom, enthusiastic to enlighten her with your new discovery.

“Dear, please go out and play with your friends elsewhere, I don’t have time for this.” Your mother clutched the bridge of her nose, clearly exhausted from the loading work at the railway.

“Please~, mother.” Your eyes twinkled. “I finished all the housework early, so can you? Just this timeeee~” Now you’re making the puppy dog eyes that she can’t resist.

A deep sigh escaped your mother, an indication of her giving in to your plea. “Fine, but make it quick.”

“You’re the best, mom!!!” You cheered at her, before carefully grabbing your mother’s hard hands between yours. “Now please pay attention.”

“Surprise!!”

Your mom was gradually drifting into sleep, but the unexpected voice in her head absolutely wiped out her drowsiness. She lowered herself, grabbing your shoulder firmly. “What did you do? Can you do it again?”

You were taken aback by your mother’s abrupt movements, but you still complied with her request.

“Are you okay,mom?”

She heard it, your voice, bright and clear, in her head. This is it, my worst nightmare, one that I dreamt of each night. Why? Why did God have to be so cruel to me? Your mother bit her lips.

Dumb-founded at your mother’s distress, you’re confused why she wasn’t happy as you were about this quirk of yours.

“Mother?”

“You haven’t told anyone about this, have you?” She snapped her head at you, her grip so tight that you started to feel a little pain.

“No… You’re the first one.” You tried to escape from her grasp, but your little struggle is no match for her grasp, failing repeatedly.

“Good, good…” Incoherent phrases flowing out of her mouth, leaving you more puzzled.

Ah, what am I thinking, they’re my child. Of course, they’re raised by me, they’re different from that bastard-

“Mom? You’re making me hurt.” Your face winced, finding the pain uncomfortable.

“Oh my, sorry, dear. Just promise me you won’t let anybody know about this, okay?” She quickly let go, a hand cupping your cheek.

“But why, mom? This may help us make mone-“

Smack

The heavy sound reverberates against the thin wall of the cold bedroom, with the moonlight outside being the only source of light and the witness of the whole ordeal. Then, bit by bit, it is switched by small whimpers and weakened sobs departing from your lips, tears rolling on your cheek, as if they are dazzling gems assembled from sorrow and agony, displayed under the watchful gaze of the moon.

Your mother frantically wiped glistening tears that threatened to damp the wooden floor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” Her voice was shaky, as she brought you into a hug, hands lightly patting your back to calm you down. “It’s just-, because this is a curse, dear. People who are unique like you, once revealed their abilities to others, are considered and reported as monsters. Then, they’re taken to a place, far, far away from here, and they’ll never return. No matter how long you wait for them, they’ll never come back. So, be a good child, and promise me? For your mommy?.”

You nuzzled into her neck, suspending your cry, soaking the patched and washed out fabric.

“Yes, mom.”

Taking notice of your hesitation and uneasiness, Fyodor shifts to the side, patting the area beside him, signaling for you to sit down.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to tell me if you want to. But why are you here?” You seem to be relieved by his words, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I heard you can read!” You beamed at him.

As you drown Fyodor with bazillion questions, eyes sparkling with curiosity, he figured another presence wouldn’t be so bad afterall.

And that is the start of your unusual friendship.

A/N: This is Fyodor when he discovered there's a voice in his head:

#bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #thoughts on sleepless nights #childhood friend au🍉

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littlebirdhighhitt · 1 year ago

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BoSaS spoilers✨

Imagine how Coriolanus would have reacted to Sejanus’ execution if he hadn’t killed Mayfair.

I think that all of Coriolanus’ anxiety, guilt and regret from Sejanus’ execution was build on his assumption that Sejanus realized Coriolanus betrayed him and therefore told the peacekeepers about the murder. Of course Coriolanus has always been paranoid and skeptical of others, but it really peaks towards the end.

Perhaps his paranoia only worsens since he doesn’t understand why Sejanus hadn’t betrayed him. What was his motives? Was he really that stupid? Was there nothing more to it?

Sejanus was everything that Coriolanus couldn’t believe existed. Someone who was loyal, righteous and infinitely kind. Someone who wanted to protect the people, who couldn’t defend themselves. Someone who would sacrifice themselves for the greater cause. Everything Coriolanus wasn’t.

I believe that if Sejanus had nothing to put Coriolanus in danger with(except his ability to get into trouble), Coriolanus might not have reacted to his death and his part in it at all. After all Coriolanus might have been Sejanus’ best friend, but Sejanus wasn’t his. He was only a piece from home, who had powerful connections, someone worth having around for status. He even found him annoying and a bother to deal with. A burden dumped onto him. He was also in the way of Coriolanus’ perspective on the human kind.

When Sejanus died, there wasn’t anyone left to oppose Coriolanus’ opinions that humans are at its core terrible, evil creatures who will do everything to survive. Something that makes sense to Coriolanus, because it’s always easier to expect the worst than getting hurt. Also because that’s literally just Coriolanus as a person.

At the end all I could think of was how much Coriolanus hated the mockingjays and jabberjays, but I think he himself resembles a terrible bird. He is a cuckoo, a bird known to lay its eggs in other birds nest for others to raise their young. The young either eats or push the birds real youngs out of the nest. Just as Coriolanus kills Sejanus’ and takes his place in his family.

I truly doubt he ever felt bad at all.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #bosas #president snow #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #thg #bosas spoilers #suzanne collins #the hunger games

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sparkles-oflight · 9 months ago

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Romeo and Juliet

Is this angst? Eh, not really.

Bojan and Kris' age: 18/17 (during the band break, no "real" romantic interactions)

Synopsis: It's the last week os summer vacation, Bojan shows up at Kris' house during the night and they sneak out

"Breathe, keep breathing Don't lose your nerve Breathe, keep breathing I can't do this alone"

Disclaimer: Please think of these as characters and not the actual people. I don’t encourage anyone to send this to any of the actual JO members nor do I encourage people to force any type of relationship between anyone.

Ema is a fictional name

The night was hot. Extremely.

Kris twisted and turned in his bed, turning his pillow every 2 seconds in hopes it would be just a bit colder each time. He even tried to let his window open to let some wind through and pretend that the cold shades coming from the moon outside would provoke some sort of psychological effect that would lead him to believe it was cold. That works, right?

Regardless, he can't sleep. It's his last week of vacation and he just can't sleep.

And even though he tells himself it's only because of heat, he knows it's not true. There was something bugging his mind for the past couple of months. Well... various. For starters: Ema dumped him. It's not like he treated him very nicely, but he always did whatever she wanted and how she wanted. One time they had a disagreement and puff: all the "love" she had for him was gone.

Then there was the elephant in the room: Bojan and the band.

After July and the Špil league, Kris barely saw any of the boys. Before, most of them were busy trying to get into university and pass all the exams, the band stopped being a priority, but now, in the few rehearsals they had, Bojan was absent.

- Aaaah. - he sighed in frustration.

He wanted to sleep and forget all those problems, he really wanted to...

But nobody gets what they want as he hears something hitting his room's outside wall - stupid birds.

But then he hears again, and again and again. Shit, he had to check.

Kris swiftly got up and checked on his window only to be blinded by an orange light of a flashlight.

- Ah, what the fuck!?

- Hi. - a voice coming from below smiled.

- Why do you have a flashlight, Bojan? - he asked as Bojan finally stopped pointing with the light at him, allowing him to recover his vision.

- I came to see you.

- Do you know what time it is?

- Yeah, time to pack and get dressed before your father hears us.

- Before all hell breaks lose?

- Precisely.

Kris didn't bother dressing up fancy or anything, he only put a shirt and shorts on – technically they were “summer pajamas” but who the fuck uses pajamas during summer? - and took a pair of flip-flops with him. He was as quiet as he could to not wake up any of his family members nor Apple, the dog.

When he reached the outside, Bojan was there and took him to his car that was parked two streets away.

When they got inside, Kris got curious:

- Where are we going?

- Today, we escape.

Kris wasn't sure where the two of them were going, but he was thrilled, though anxious at the same time.

Bojan drove them to a children's park in the center. Why? Kris doesn't know, he just did.

They both sat on a bench and the singer offered him a cigarette and Kris took it. Bojan lit his own and then gave Kris the lighter to light the other's.

- How have you been doing? - Bojan broke the silence.

- Great.

- Ema?

- We broke up.

- I feel ya.

- I know that... You and-

- Yup, also didn't last.

They stayed quiet for a few more moments.

- Are you scared? - Kris asked - About uni. Are you scared or anxious?

- Like anyone would. - he let the smoke escape his lungs - But I'm more scared of losing myself, to be honest. Kris...I have to tell you something.

Kris made a guess.

- You are leaving the band, right?

But Bojan didn't reply.

- Is this because of the fight you had? Bojan, I know you can finish the song! I know you can do it! It's nothing compared with what we already had to endure. We finally have someone behind us an-

- It's not just that. - he laughed in frustration - It's just... What if the band really doesn't work out? I mean, we haven't had a proper band practice in a while! I don’t even show up to rehearsal anymore because everyone seems busy with university. I know you will only start worrying about it now but...okay scratch that, you are always worried but! Kris...

Bojan threw his cigarettes on the floor and stepped on it.

- I don't think we can make it as a band either... realistically, a solo singer is more successful.

- Is that really what boils down to you?

- No...more like: I don't know what else I want to do with my life. If not music, then what? I already devoted myself so much to it! And I even started writing some songs for myself.

Bojan hesitated before continuing.

- And I’ve met a producer that has promised me things... He says I have the voice for it. This might be my chance, Kris.

Kris also threw his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it, angrily.

- Bojan, it's just not fair. - he turned to Bojan and stared at him as if he wanted to grab him and demand he stayed in the band forever - If you keep drinking out of that "fountain of wisdom", I hope you choke. I hope your voice drowns.

Kris got up, pretty angrily and didn't direct Bojan a word. However, he only took a few steps away from him before going back to him immediately. He grabbed the fucking flashlight out of Bojan’s hand - seriously why did he have that? - and turned it on. He pointed with the light towards Bojan's heart.

- One chance. Give me one chance and I'll show you that the band is worth fighting for.

- What will you try to do?

- I'll... - the wheels in his head started turning - I'll sing us a song. A song to keep us warm.

- And try you will.

♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩

(I didn't quote the hunger games at the end, shut up)

Polaroid Photos Universe | Recommended next: Gola

#those who know why R&J know those who don't don't #though this story has obviously a much happier ending haha #joker out #bokris #joker out bojan #joker out kris #bojan cvjetićanin #kris gustin #kris guštin #Spotify #polaroid photos universe

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daisychainsandbowties · 2 years ago

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avatrice & books

// turning this into a whole post bc it got LONG. ty anon who asked these questions

who prefers audio and/or digital books over physical?

out of necessity they have a LOT of digital books. Cam actually dumps her whole contraband collection in Bea’s inbox while she & Ava are still en-route to Switzerland, so that Bea’s new phone lights up on the seat beside her & it’s the first thing that relaunches her brain like a crashed excel document, because Ava’s drooling onto the leg of her pants with her body curled up across two seats. all the lights in the train are down low, & she gets an email from Cam (on the OCS extranet) with the subject line “don’t tell Mom :)))”.

headcanon is that Cam has been selling literary contraband in cat’s cradle for years (in true Camila style with a barter system where she gives people pages she printed off on the admin office’s old printer & they give her things like ‘interestingly-shaped bullet fragments’ and ‘bags of Haribo starmix with a preferential ratio of love hearts and cola bottles to bears & rings’)

so yeah, Cam has a little online archive hidden away on the OCS servers, & Bea spends the journey to Switzerland reading a digitally dog-eared file of miscellaneous philosophy papers, which Cam has been grabbing for her because it’s like Beatrice catnip. and it becomes a little habit for Cam to walk into Bea’s room at cat’s cradle to find her doing crunches with the lights off. Cam doing the sibling thing where she flicks the light switch on and off five times until Beatrice stops and just lies on the floor with arms akimbo, scowling:

‘leave me alone Camila.’

‘okay, broody bones, guess you don’t want this paper i found called ‘do holes exist?’

cue Bea coming down to breakfast the next morning STILL furious, squinting angrily at the straw in Mary’s smoothie until Mary asks if she needs to put it into protective custody.

she reads it again on the train because she wants to be angry over something stupid. she reads the essay that made Cam spend a week hiding in the apse and saying ‘i’m batman’ whenever Beatrice went inside - Nagel’s ‘what is it like to be a bat?’ and she reads a bit of Beckett because she really does find ‘Waiting for Godot’ funny, & then she reads her old favourites which she has printed and folded in her drawer in cat’s cradle

she LOVES Kepler’s astronomica nova because he has all these asides in it, and Bea chuckles aloud in the train carriage as she always does when she remembers reading first about Kepler writing “ah, what a foolish bird i have been!” & when her head hurts from reading the original Latin she switches to Carl Sagan’s cosmos, reading about Kepler again, feeling it in her chest:

“Kepler was a brilliant thinker and a lucid writer, but he was a disaster as a classroom teacher. He mumbled. He digressed. He was at times utterly incomprehensible… He was distracted by an incessant interior clamor of associations and speculations vying for his attention.”

beatrice & kepler &

“Geometry provided God with a model for the Creation… Geometry is God Himself.”

when Ava wakes up, Bea is reading the Lewis & Lewis holes article for the third time, & Ava jolts a bit because she looks real mad, and kind of devastated, but then Bea smiles at her & Ava says:

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing, nothing.” a pause, “i just… holes are full of the substance they create an absence in.”

“i think i need a croissant before you explain that to me”

Bea prefers physical books. she likes the smell of them, and the feeling of holding the words in her hands, and how you can leave a bookmark inside of a book and feel suddenly and profoundly like you are alive, putting an ellipses straight into the world ‘…. to be continued’.

it’s why she likes Cam’s dumb print-offs even if Camila has long-since convinced the ink cartridge that it is not, in fact empty but it definitely is getting there. even though sometimes the words are shaved off and she has to infer the full shape of sentences - and if she does, well, it’s kind of like sudoku & it’s a bit like learning song lyrics off the radio where, very occasionally, the words you mishear are better than the real ones.

but she does appreciate the search functions on the digital books & papers & the fact that she can screen reader things when her eyes are tired but her brain is not, (& Cam is very good at making sure that the PDFs she sends are screen reader accessible)

she doesn’t like audiobooks because she wants to put the emphasis where her brain thinks it should go, and even with the speed turned up there’s just a difference between her reading speed and the narration. & yeah, the auditory processing sometimes is not cooperating, never mind that her ears ring sometimes from hearing too many gunshots. there’s a reason the OCS has a deal with a hearing specialist bc if you retire, you’re going to have damage to your eardrums. a ringing aftershock of violence.

they both love dog-earing books and leaving little notes in the margins of, underlining things with intention so that the pen breaks through the paper; with mass-market paperbacks there’s no reason not to, though it takes a while for it to happen.

Ava is at first very tender with every object they own. she bawls her eyes out when she drops a glass in the kitchen one night because her fingers are tired and sore from doing finger strikes all day. Bea finds her there sort of curled up on her haunches, and quietly sweeps up the glass from around her, gently leads her around it because she’s in bare feet.

later, on the sofa, Ava tells her through tears that she has never had stuff that she picked out herself, and the glasses with the little bumblebees on them were hers, and now there are three of them instead of four. & Bea is a bit overcome by how sacredly Ava holds everything, for all that she doesn’t believe in any god.

Ava i think really likes audiobooks because you can do other things while you listen to them! so like, i imagine in the Switzerland era Ava is doing a thing where she’s trying to figure out what stuff she likes doing. so she gets painting supplies & some sheets of A3 paper & she puts on audiobooks while she experiments with colours.

she listens to books at night because Beatrice goes to sleep kind of early & she’s always like ‘oh no, you can leave the light on’ but actually she needs the light off and Ava knows it so instead she lies in the dark with one earphone in listening, on the one hand, to Beatrice mumbling in her sleep and also to whatever book she has & sometimes she takes out the fold-up ruler that she found in a charity shop & folds it and unfolds it and folds it again just to keep her hands busy.

but she also likes physical books because (once Beatrice assures her that it’s okay to write in them & damage them because they’re things and they’re hers and they’re meant to be loved in the way that feels best) she likes writing silly little notes in the margins, or things she wants to look up even though her phone is right there because if she google searches she’ll spend an hour not reading her book.

it makes her feel present & good to leave marks on the books even if it’s ‘ava silva was here’ because she thought she would leave only the smallest impression on the world for so long but now she has her own dirty plates to clean up and she has to pick her clothes off the floor and they have a small stack of very carefully-chosen paperbacks with dog ears and yellow highlighter marks and blue pen in the margins.

what do you think their weird book opinions & peeves would be?

Beatrice will go on a ten-minute tirade about how long it takes for mass-market paperbacks to come out these days. she HATES the fact that all books seem to get released in 25 euro hardcovers, because she spent her teenage years getting books from the second-hand store when the students were allowed to visit the nearby village & she kept an ever-expanding stack of old yellowing paperbacks on top of her chest of drawers, and she adores the feeling of the wafer-thin pages, the smell of them, even gross stuff like spots of blood on the pages from where people accidentally pressed an open cut down over a sentence.

the too-white pages of many modern books, and their thick, almost laminate feeling drives her up the wall. she loves second-hand bookstores and the way the books are stacked all haphazardly, to the ceiling, and they are 1 or 2 euros so you can get a stupid stack of them & pay with a crumply note and take them home and feel full for days.

Ava gets impatient with fiction that doesn’t feel real to her. overly-constructed stuff & characters who could never be real people. she likes messy narratives and non-linearity and she wants to know about the characters more than anything, because people fascinate her.

she likes books with plenty of dialogue, but also really appreciates introspective narratives & beautiful language & writers who can make her really feel like she’s there, and communicate alien experiences.

what are genres and/or tropes they absolutely will not read and/or are very picky about? what are genres & tropes they love?

well, obviously Beatrice loves non-fiction. she reads textbooks, she reads academic papers, she reads very old foundational texts in science & biology & philosophy because Beatrice really really likes understanding things.

one of the first books Cam sends her, which gets dumped right into the “broody bones’ library <3” subsection of the server, which Bea has a login for and everything, is Biology of Spiders by Foelix Rainer, & another file that just has about 3000 images of different spiders pulled from an internet search, so that Beatrice can swipe through them at her leisure (she can name-drop a terrifying number of them just by looking at the pic)

she adores Carl Sagan’s Cosmos (& even gets Ava to watch the TV series, which is not hard because Ava gets fully 0 _ 0 when Bea goes on sleepy rants about space). & ofc she has A Brief History of Time, but she gravitates too towards modern books on astronomy, and likes especially The Disordered Cosmos by Chanda Prescod-Weinstein because it is doing a lot of things & it makes her cry a few times. she reads a lot of very old astronomy papers too. again drawn to that line from Monsignor Lemaître:

“the believer has perhaps the advantage of knowing that the enigma has a solution, that the underlying writing is, when all is said and done, the work of an intelligent being, therefore that the problem raised by nature has been raised in order to be solved.”

she likes that. the world as a puzzle god put in her hands, though before it felt more like He had put a shovel there & told her to dig a grave (but not who the grave might be for).

with Ava, reading under the awning of the bar on her break, she feels like the puzzle has come back again and it is intricate; that maybe something as simple as a body might unlock it.

on that note, Beatrice also loves loves loves science-fiction. she grew up reading second-hand stuff. very weird, but very thoughtful. Dune and Solaris and Flowers for Algernon and The Dispossessed. when Cam sends her the more modern stuff she devours things like The Three-Body Problem by Liu Cixin and Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer and also the Murderbot Diaries.

many others, but as a genre she’s drawn to it because it is often very profoundly human. & she still remembers reading the Star Wars Jedi Apprentice books in her room at boarding school, & how fun they were, and how even in the strangest places with the premise that everything is so, so different, there is a humanity that reasserts itself.

it suits the gentle texture of the faith that Beatrice actually has, which is not the faith of hard church benches and prayers before bed and holding her hand too close overtop of a votive candle. her faith is very soft, and it is about marvelling at the world, worrying about it, being tender towards it.

sci-fi does that for her. it says much in the way of ‘even if everything were different, the best and worst parts of us would remain the same. there will never be a point in history where we do not have to deal with what we are.’

i think she also likes poetry, and just weird good books that make you feel things. i think at some point in those two months she reads Autobiography of Red, remembering herself on the train and staring staring staring at the line “sometimes a journey makes itself necessary.”

looking back and thinking that sometimes a girl makes a journey necessary, thinking of being shipped off to boarding school because of a girl and now shipped off to Switzerland again but with a girl. thinking of necessity, and the small ways in which she has managed to alter the meaning of that word.

other lines that strike her

“This would be hard

for you if you were weak

but you’re not weak”

“Well Goodnight Then they said and drove him up/ Those hemorrhaging stairs…Don’t want to go want to stay Downstairs and read.”

she likes Anne Sexton, too

reading “Sylvia’s Death” & knowing that it’s about something else but also thinking about her sisters. about lilith, especially.

“Thief —

how did you crawl into,

crawl down alone

into the death I wanted so badly and for so long”

the only genre she’s not going to read ever probably is crime/ thrillers, because not only does she just constantly have a little voice in her head going

wrong, wrong, wrong.

no it doesn’t work like that.

wrong.

you just broke both your legs.

that is not how you fire a gun

some of it just sits too close to the bone for her & it’s bad enough that she has her own memories of real-world bad things happening without reading about it. possessed people ripping each other to pieces, bodies in the streets.

the OCS visited enough murder scenes on the trail of demons to make Beatrice capable of smelling, all over again, what happens to a room after a person has been dead in it for several hours.

so she just doesn’t want to read any crime or really most mystery novels (she’s too smart for them, sees things choreographed or else dislikes when things aren’t choreographed at all). she has attended too many autopsies to want to read about them either.

i think Ava reads VERY widely. she loves reading plays & acting them out in the apartment. she has her own little library on the OCS extranet too, & she downloads all of Shakespeare’s stuff & puzzles through it and googles stuff but the pentameter makes sense to her & she loves sometimes how initially inaccessible it is to her because it feels good to unearth the meaning.

her favourite plays are Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf and sadly Beatrice does persuade her to read Waiting for Godot and she does kind of think it’s good.

Ava is the one who likes reading fantasy books. she adores The Hobbit & this somehow leads to her finding the ‘legless lego legolas’ post & she spends a whole afternoon laughing randomly until Beatrice finally gives in to her curiosity and she is just ‘…. oh, Ava’ when she reads the crappy screenshot version of it that Ava shows her.

my girl Ava obviously loses it a bit over the Frodo/Sam dynamic in lotr (she likes to perform the travelling songs ofc. Ava is like repressed theatre kid energy fr) & Beatrice (happily) listens to her talk about Frodo and Sam for a whole half hour one evening while she chops vegetables.

Ava just really likes adventure stories & stories where characters are thrown together on a quest and become friends.

she’s obviously embarrassingly a sucker for the friends-to-lovers trope in fiction, but she also just enjoys stories about friendship because she’s had so few experiences of that in her life. she has Beatrice and she kind of has Cam & everyone else doesn’t feel like a friend, exactly. Ava reads the Red Sister trilogy by Mark Lawrence and vibes so much with Nona Grey because of her wild and speechless loyalty to her friends (& yeah, the Sister Apple & Sister Kettle romance and the start of book 2 made her extremely giggly).

she also loves The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin bc the thing at the start of the book that goes “for all those who have to fight for the respect that everyone else is given without question” - Ava FELT that. & just the parallels for her in that book were very powerful. plus plate tectonics magic slaps.

& yeah, Ava is really interested in magic systems. she likes what they reveal about the worlds they exist in, and how they shape the narrative, and also just the rlly cool ones & the weird cheeky thrill of being like ‘….welp, i can do that too actually.’

Ava also really loves fiction with interesting characters and great dialogue and she loves description and colour and everything that pours life into art.

i’d say there isn’t much that Ava doesn’t like, but she isn’t huge into non-fiction because she MUCH prefers to just pester Beatrice about it, & have her voice explain things, and add her own little corrections and opinions with her cute smart smirk. and Ava thinks it is good for Beatrice to express her opinions on things.

she likes how Bea looks when she is Thinking and Processing, and also the excitement in her hands when she explains astrophysics or shows Ava a picture of a spider or tells her about obscure bits of architectural history, the banking system in Florence under the Medici, and all the knowledge she has been muffling with prayer.

Ava thinks that it is H O T but also important and Beatrice looks so free to her, and so good, when she is speaking on some subject with her eyes drifting freely around the room, always coming back to Ava, to her eyes, making sure she is still interested because Beatrice has been ignored so often, and stifled so often, but when she looks back Ava is always watching, and always listening.

so yeah! the girlies like to read & are very smart & i love them every day.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #i really really really truly love them #this got soooo long but it's books and avatrice #two subjects that do not provoke brevity from me #casper writes

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