#this happened to me the first couple times they had us meditate in acting school
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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years ago
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I have a geraskier prompt I am laying on your altar as an offering: Geralt catches Jaskier staring at him when he ‚wakes up‘ from meditation and falsely assumes the bard is interested to learn meditation (Jaskier was just staring at him longingly). Jaskier tries but is very bad at emptying his mind/concentrating on himself,maybe asks Geralt to hold his hand? Feel free to change anything or ignore ☺️
oh. my. god. BABE. this prompt brings me life. also I am unworthy of an alter but if i must have one let it be covered in vining plants
This started out at a nice simmering level of horny and got emotional at the drop of a hat and idk what happened but I hope you like it! 💖💖
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Fuck he's beautiful. It’s really not fair that he does this without a shirt. Yes, it’s hot, but I’m going to melt. What I wouldn’t give to melt into his arms and run my hands through that chest hair. 
Jaskier nearly jumped out of his skin when one of Geralt’s eyes cracked open. They were eye level, Geralt kneeling on the floor, supposedly deep in meditation, while Jaskier took the opportunity to lay on the bed and ogle. 
Shit, I didn’t say that out loud did I?
“You’re staring.”
Jaskier rolled over onto his back, silently thanking the gods he hadn’t actually said what he was thinking for once, “I just don’t know how you can sit still for so long.”
Geralt hummed, closing his eyes once again, “It’s more than just holding still.”
“Yes, yes.” Jaskier lowered his voice and knit his brows together to mimic Geralt, “Clear your mind, think of nothing, breathe deep and steady.”
The short hum he got in response almost sounded amused.
Jaskier rolled to sit cross-legged at the end of the bed nearest Geralt, this time watching with his head tilted to the side and a little wrinkle between his brows.
A moment later Geralt peeked once again and Jaskier looked down at his hands, blushing. 
“Do you want to try? Since you’re so interested?”
Oh, darling if only you knew what I was interested in.
“Didn’t you say last time that I was an ‘impossible fidget’ who ‘wouldn’t sit still if my life depended on it’?” Jaskier grinned despite the memory of one of their larger fights over the years.
“That was almost ten years ago Jaskier…” 
“I’m not mad, I’m teasing,” he promised as he slid off the bed and onto the floor in front of Geralt, “Do I need to sit like you?”
Geralt grinned, “No, just get comfortable so you can relax.”
Jaskier settled cross-legged once again, wiggling till he thought he was comfortable enough, “Wouldn’t this be easier lying on a bed?”
Geralt closed his eyes again, rolling his shoulders and making Jaskier bite his bottom lip, “The point isn’t to sleep.”
Jaskier took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he slowly exhaled and did his best to forget about Geralt’s shoulders. After a few moments, his fingers were twitching so he clenched them into fists, then he automatically cracked his ankle when the urge hit him and he sighed in defeat.
“Sit like I do.” Geralt’s voice was lower than before, almost fond and Jaskier was inclined to do absolutely anything that voice ordered. Not without a fuss of course.
“I thought you said it didn’t matter.”
“It takes more focus to keep balanced on your knees. You need a little extra distraction.” 
Jaskier huffed but obeyed, keeping his eyes closed, ever the enthusiastic student. Their knees touched in the small floor space allowed in their room and the slight brush of fabric really shouldn’t have him sweating like it did. 
Geralt shifted a bit and nearly whispered further instructions, “Palms up on your lap... Count your breaths so your exhales are longer than your inhales... Try not to jump from thought to thought. Just let them drift by... Relax...”
The heat was becoming unbearable and Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was just the temperature or Geralt murmuring so softly. He could absolutely clear his mind for that voice. If Geralt kept talking he would be putty in his hands, completely devoid of original thought and lost in the baritone and gravel. 
However, he didn’t keep talking. 
Jaskier did his best to measure his breaths, something he should have no trouble with given his training, but any time he twitched his knee brushed Geralt’s and he had to fight off a squeaking gasp. When Geralt took a deep cleansing breath he felt the exhale on his palms and nearly shivered at the sensation. He fluttered his fingers open and closed to stave off the odd tingling he felt behind his breastbone and nose. 
Everything was suddenly overwhelming; the closeness, the little movements, the way he felt like he was floating above the floor. Somewhere in there was a pang of overwhelming sadness, something he had buried deep down long ago and forgotten the source of. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth against it, letting a shaky breath out in an effort to keep it together.
A shock ran up Jaskier’s arms when Geralt gently took his hands. Jaskier’s eyes flew open and he was mortified that a few tears escaped in his surprise.
“Don’t worry, that’s normal.” Geralt ran his thumbs over the knuckles of his fingers and looked at him with a gentle concern that was even more overwhelming. 
“T-to cry?” Jaskier was embarrassed by the tightness in his voice, “You never cry.”
Geralt nodded, “I did at first. We all did.”
Jaskier sniffed, tilting his head and giving him his best unbelieving expression, a good mimic of Geralt’s usual mug.
“When you slow down and give it time, your body sometimes tries to help you process things. Some people laugh, some cry, some just sit in silence.”
Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hands a little tighter, letting out an embarrassed, watery laugh, “I don’t even know what I’m sad about.”
Geralt gave him the softest hint of a smile, “Glad it’s not me.”
Jaskier snorted.
“Do you want to stop?” Geralt’s face was solemn as he shifted closer, their knees now firmly pressed together.
“No,” Jaskier shook his head, closing his eyes and breathing deeply again. Tears or no tears this was the safest and most loved he’d felt in ages, possibly his life, “Just... don’t let go?” He didn’t know how he managed to get the words out, nervous as he was.
Geralt gave his hands a light squeeze and whispered, “I’m right here.” 
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miekasa · 3 years ago
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M-mie could we get some athlete boyfriend eren hcs too if you don’t mind, please and thank you😩
He is: my boyfriend, and I love him dearly. Perfect amount of himbo and athlete without being a jock, everybody give it up for Eren for being my dream boy <3
Eren plays sports year round, with the exception of maybe one or two winter seasons, just because his school/work/home life was too busy for athletics at those times. Otherwise, he’s always go something to practice for: soccer in the fall, hockey in the winter, and his choice of baseball or basketball in the spring.
He’s not a varsity athlete; that is, he’s not “committed” to any one team, so he’s not tied to playing one sport every year, nor are his academics linked to his athletics, or vice versa. He’s just a pretty athletic guy, and he’s got a lot of energy, and he enjoys sports, so naturally he plays whenever he can.
As it turns out, it does help him with his academics. Knowing he’s got practice the majority of the week forces Eren into building a schedule that prioritizes both schoolwork and sports so he can enjoy them equally. It teaches him to be independent in a way that he wasn’t expecting, but he’s come to really love.
And because he loves it, he doesn’t mind working hard for it. Liking the way he’s set it up for himself encourages him to do his best in both areas. It’s really just good for him all around: a good outlet fo his energy, a good way to spend his time, a good way to keep his grades in check, and a good way to keep himself comfortably happy and busy.
His appetite is insatiable, so it’s only dramatized when playing sports. He takes the all you can eat in all you can eat sushi a little too seriously.
The thing is… he’s a shit cook, too, so it’s not like he’s meal prepping to make sure he’s satisfying his appetite. He just buys a shit ton of food whenever he’s hungry. He’s always asking you if you wanna grab food, and part of it is to ensure that you’re eating—not as much as him, but eating nonetheless—but part of it is that he just likes sharing meals with someone.
He also doesn’t like to eat alone, so even if you only have your ten California rolls to his forty six spicy tuna rolls, that’s fine; he just wants the company.
That’s also why even if you say you’re not hungry, he’ll drag you out to eat with him anyway. And you’ll probably get fed some of his food even if you don’t order anything and insist that you’re not hungry because, “It’s really good, baby, just try it—just one bite, it’s okay I’ve got plenty left!”
He usually keeps a few granola bars and chips and other snacks of his liking on him. But because of Eren’s nature, he keeps them on you, too: in your car, in your backpack, in your apartment/dorm. You’ll meet him after class and he’ll kinda just start walking behind you, and you realize he’s opening your backpack, and you don’t even have time to question him before he’s pulling a bar out of the smallest pocket with a smile and munching on it.
Sometimes you come home and see his little protein shakes in your fridge. You definitely didn’t put them there, but you don’t move them, either. When you stock up on more when they’re running low, Eren contemplates marrying you.
If it’s been a hard week of practice or school, he tends to get sleepy when studying (usually when studying for his least favorite class, no coincidence there). He’ll close his laptop, put his hood up, and scooch his chair closer to yours before leaning his head on your shoulder.
He gets increasingly clingier the longer he naps; hand wrapping around your waist, nose poking at your neck. He’s not so subtly trying to hint that he wants you to quit studying and take him home to cuddle instead. If you don’t get the message, expect him to shut your laptop for you.
When you protest, Eren just looks at you with pouty lips and tired eyes, “Chemistry sucks anyway. Wanna nap, and also wanted you to do that thing with your hands when you massage my back for me.” (He then promptly falls asleep mid-massage on your bed).
He’s actually got a waiver to see a physical massage therapist because of how frequently he’s exercising. On occasion, he goes, but he claims he likes your massages much better. Also because he’s hesitant about a stranger touching him and once he moaned when the guy was working on his back and Eren swears it was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.
He doesn’t get upset if you can’t make it to every game, but he does like it when you show up. Gets all cheesy and cocky with his arm around your shoulder, going on about how, “You’re my good luck charm, baby. I play better when you’re watching, you know?”
He has so much team clothing, from sweats to hoodies to t-shirts to socks. All he asks is that you wear something on game days, even if you can’t be there to support him while he’s playing. And that you keep one or two things for yourself anyway. He’ll put them in your closet for your if you don’t take them yourself <2
Because seeing you in his hoodie is always great, but his team hoodies are extra special, because they’ve got his name and his number on them. Whenever you’re wearing one, he trails just a half step behind you so he can see JAEGER printed on your back while you walk. Something about you wearing his last name around is… enticing, to say the least.
Even if it’s not the clothes branded with his name, Eren’s got a thing for you in sweats and/or workout clothes, so he’ll toss them at you whenever you sleep over. He’s always handsy, even if you’re just wearing an Under Armour shirt with the school’s logo on it; the material of it, and knowing that it’s his just makes him want to keep his hands on you.
Truthfully, he doesn’t workout all that much outside of practice. Occasionally, he’ll go to the gym with some of his teammates if they need a buddy, or go himself to stretch or take one of the free classes, but he doesn’t have a strict schedule for it. If you go to the gym, he’ll follow you if you ask, tho.
Turns out something that he does like is yoga. He’s not particularly flexible lmfao, but the stretching helps with muscle pain and tension, and he kinda finds the whole atmosphere of it relaxing. He’s still not so great at the meditation part of it, but he’s getting there.
(Actually, it’s pretty cute because on Tuesday and Thursdays, the yoga classes at the gym on campus are open-level and beginner friendly. That’s when the majority of the athletes show up, and you see people like Eren, Jean and Connie holding tree pose in the back room).
This, of course, makes him think that couples yoga is a great idea. Let’s just say, you’re lucky that Eren is strong enough to catch you and has sharp reflexes, because he’s certainly not the most balanced partner for this activity.
Game days are fun for him, and usually even if his team loses, he’s still so pumped up on adrenaline that he’s pretty happy. He only gets moody if he thinks the other team is playing dirty, or the refs are unfair, or he’s just been in a bad mood because of something that happened in his personal life; sports are an outlet for him, not his drive in life, so losing a game doesn’t take a huge toll on him.
Usually, even if he is upset about something personal, he’s able to funnel it into his game play. Small things used to make his whole sportsmanship sour, but overtime, he’s really gotten better at using his energy to fuel the right things. However, one thing that makes him foul (emotionally and literally; as in he might foul out of a game), is if he’s been fighting with you.
Sometimes it works in his favor—using the game as outlet, like usual—but it goes south pretty quickly. Because instead of using his aggression in a productive way, he gets distracted and easily pissed off, and it’s no good for anybody, especially himself. Because if he fouls out, or the coach takes him out for doing too much, then he can’t play; and if he can’t play then all that pent up frustration has no where to go; and then he’s forced to just sit with himself and his thoughts, but usually he starts deflecting and telling everyone else to piss off. Truly a no good, very bad box he’s put himself in.
You guys don’t fight that often, and it’s rare that it drags out for an extended amount of time when you do; but as with any relationship, it can happen. And when it does happen, if Armin doesn’t get to you first, expect one of Eren’s teammates to come groveling at your feet.
Or, rather, two. Because when you and Eren were fighting for over two weeks about god knows what at this point, it was Connie and Jean who ambushed you in the library. Jean had some pride to keep, but Connie was practically begging you to make up with Eren: “Look, I know he’s probably the one who said or did something to piss you off, and I’m not saying you gotta forgive him, but please just talk to him. I can’t run anymore extra laps because of him, and it’s gonna be so embarrassing if we lose to a C-list team on Friday because Eren’s funking up everyone’s attitude. PLEASE!”
Jean is more interested in the tea between you guys, but he also wants Eren to go back to being his normal hotheaded self, and not his current moody self. “He’s been playing like a bitch baby all week, and I’m gonna knock his skull in if he doesn’t fucking get his act together,” Jean rolls his eyes, “So just show up on Friday, alright? Do it for me and Connie, at least.”
When Eren does see you in the crowd at the game, it’s not a Troy and Gabriella moment, but when he sees you he feels so much relief that he’s physically calmer and way more mentally relaxed—because at this point Eren wasn’t even mad, he was just scared you might break up with him, and that fear brought out the worst in him. Seeing you in the stands, even if you didn’t wanna speak to him, was reassurance that you still gave a damn about him, and that was motivation enough.
He rushes to you after the game, wanting to make sure you don’t get swept away or leave with your friends. He’s smiling and so happy to finally see you that he almost forgets that you’re mad with him; hugging you and grinning ear to ear. When the reality kicks in, he kinda steps back at bit and rubs at his neck, embarrassed, but at least he knows he still has a chance to make things right with you.
(When you do make up, you’re surprised to find flowers and $10 coupon for your favorite pizza place in your mailbox a few days later. They’re from Connie, and his poorly handwritten note thanks you for “saving the team” and “curbing Eren’s temper).
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lilacmeadows · 4 years ago
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Made For You pt. 2
Omg you guys thank you so much for all the support! Part 1 was my first fic and you guys were so sweet. I had to get started on part 2 right away. If you want to be on my taglist, just let me know! This is just leading up to the next few chapters that’s just gonna be FILTHY. I needed a bit of backstory to be satisfied, but now that the boring part is out of the way, I’m gonna go research other names for genitals. Hope you enjoy! -Savvy
BUCKY X READER
Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.
Part 1    Part 2     Part 3
WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)
WORD COUNT:  2.9k
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“Make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.” 
When she was first taken, of course she was scared. She didn’t know why, where she was going, if she’d be rescued. It was a painful adjustment, and some days it was as if the tears would never stop. It’s not like she was worth anything to anyone who mattered, her family wasn’t rich. Just her mom and brother. They lived a happy and normal life. 
She’d guess it didn’t really matter. At the age of 10, y/n was old enough to understand basic concepts, carry a conversation with adults, and she had strict teachers in school, so she knew how to behave. 
What she didn’t know was how to be a wife. Or a ‘life-partner’. None of the Men would ever call her a future ‘wife’. She was training to be a mate. Someone the Soldat could own and connect with so he didn’t fly off the rails if things got out of control. If he got out of their control. Every morning, a watcher would wake her up at 8AM so she could stretch, eat, and meditate. By 10AM, her first trainer of the day would come in and teach her the schooling she was missing. Just basic math and reading, a little German, and a little Russian. Not enough for her to eavesdrop on their plans, but enough to understand her Soldat if he didn’t feel like speaking English. 
At 1PM, another trainer would come and bring her to the small kitchenette down the hall. They had no intention of domesticating the ‘couple’, but she was learning to be a woman- of course the Men would have her start in the kitchen. She would learn very simple meals that could feed a fully grown man, and usually had something light for lunch herself. The men brought her the other 2 meals a day. At 3PM she would have lessons on ‘Womanhood’. At least that’s what she called it. A trainer would come in and teach her a never-ending list of rules that she had to follow in order to be a ‘lady’. It reminded her of an old Barbie movie she would watch when she was little. There was a song called ‘To Be a Princess’, where a poor girl learned how to act proper. Once she started seeing herself as that princess, the days got a little easier. Some days, they would go over how to sit and lie down like a lady. Others, they would walk laps around the halls open to her, reviewing how to walk on the balls of her feet. She learned to talk in short sentences with excellent manners, and how to brush her hair, so she could look more presentable for her Soldat. 
Over the years of compliance, the trainers softened on her just as the watchers had. Of course, they were still horrible people, but they knew she was a kind girl at heart and wouldn’t cause trouble. Some days, she would be made to sit perfectly still with a stack of books on her head, while her trainer would tell her something silly happening outside the walls of the building that became her home. She learned little bits of information about their lives, music, art. But never anything political or having to do with who the Men even worked for. That was strictly forbidden. They would let her color in her free time. Sometimes a watcher would bring a book from his home for her to read, and when she was old enough, she was given a few colors of yarn and started knitting sweaters and scarves on plastic needles. She didn’t have a clock, but she would learn by the rotating shifts of her watchers what time of day it was.
There were children whose lives sucked more than hers. And for that, she was grateful.
When she got older (let’s say 18), the training started to change. She never knew what day it was, or even what year. She had stopped keeping track so long ago, but the changes were made gradually. She would be made to read books on intimacy, and then watch videos of men brutally ravishing ladies about her size. She had to learn what to do to please her Soldat, without being taught physically. This made her happy. The thought of any of the watchers or trainers doing that to her made her sick. And everyone thought it was in her best interest to be completely innocent to the touch of a man when she has her first encounter with the Soldat.
Which turned out exactly as planned. But on the day Steve and Sam plucked her out of her bedroom, she was not expecting the Soldat to be sitting right in front of her. In all his glory.
The quinjet was eerily silent for all of seven seconds before Clint had the audacity to continue the conversation he started.
“You make the soldier happy?” was the best the shocked man could come up with.
“I haven’t met him yet, but I’m ready. They made me ready for him.” y/n said with bright, hopeful eyes. Her words flowed so easily, they sounded rehearsed.
“Do we tell her?” Tony asked Steve, who was getting greener by the second. He couldn’t believe he just got his best friend back, not two weeks ago, and now he has to worry about a girl who’s obsessed with said best friend.
“I don’t think we really have a choice.” Steve replied, taking a deep breath. The whole quinjet looked like they were holding their breath. y/n still didn’t know the names of the three men on the opposite side of the quinjet. Two of them standing together, pausing their conversation, and the brooding man, who everyone keeps looking at.
“y/n, meet Bucky.” Steve said, pointing at the man across from her. But ‘Bucky’ went completely over her head- the name being unfamiliar to her.
“Hello, sir. Pleased to meet you.” She said, offering a genuine smile, but clearly not picking up what Steve was putting down. Clint chimed in again, wanting to be out of his confused misery.
“Wait a second. Y/n. You mean the soldier, as in the Winter Soldier?” Y/n immediately nodded at hearing that name. She knew her Soldat went by that name. “As in that guy right there?” 
Her eyes went wide at the realization. He was sitting right in front of her. Staring at her since the minute she stepped onto the plane. And he was gorgeous. Long hair, thick thighs, piercing blue eyes, and a jaw that could probably cut glass. But he looked upset. Pissed really, and that scared her. She had one job: Make the Soldat happy. And there she was, barely presentable. She hadn’t even addressed him properly, how she was taught. With all the eyes on her, she felt a blush rush through her whole body at the embarrassing thought. But she had to. He wouldn’t like her if she didn’t follow the rules she grew up with.
Y/n daintily stood up and walked until she was right in front of Bucky. He held her eye contact the entire way, still not having said one word during this whole exchange. She gently knelt down until she was on her knees in front of him. 
“I hope I can make you happy, my Soldat. I am a gift from the Men who take care of us, and I am entirely yours.” Bucky’s jaw twitched. He hadn’t said anything this whole time, but his mind was moving at lightning speed. He watched this gorgeous, barely dressed girl sit across from him, and was already in awe. But then that girl got on her knees and declared her loyalty to him? In front of everyone he knows? He couldn’t lie to himself, he’d never been more turned on. But everything about this was wrong. She was just a Stockholm Syndrome’d girl who wanted to follow orders. But her orders were to make him happy. He finally broke eye contact with her to see Tony’s shocked face looking over at Bruce and Thor, to make sure he’s not hallucinating this. 
“Y/n, you should stand up.” He said to her in a hushed tone. Probably harsher than he meant to. He could see her visibly take a breath at the sound of his voice, his eyes followed the gentle slope of her neck down to her breast. She dreamed for years about what his voice would sound like, and it just rolled over her. But she quickly obeyed and stood in front of his seat. He expected her to say something else, but she was silent then. Her previous outburst was one of the few exceptions to her ‘only talk when spoken to’ rule. “What do you want? Where is your family so we can take you home?” He asked her. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. He didn’t want her was all she could assume. She was made for him, so why was he turning her away?
“I want to make you happy, sir. It’s all I want. Please let me be good for you. I promise, I’ll be so good for you.” Begging was familiar to her from her studies. She didn’t expect to be begging for her to be able to please him, but she would do whatever it took to get him to keep her.
“No. Y/n. This isn’t right. You were being kept there, whatever Hydra told you to do is over. You’re free now.” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks and it broke his heart. She tried to cover her face with her hands. He didn’t want to see her cry, nor did he want to turn her away, but he also couldn’t just let her be his sex slave. It wasn’t right. 
“Please don’t be sad. This is for the best-” He tried to reason with her, but when he took her hand off her face so she would look at him, the contact only made her sob harder. This was all she wanted. 
“Buck, I think we should just let her sit for a minute. Can you grab her some water? Tony and I will try to figure out where she was from.” Steve said to Bucky- trying to end this painful and awkward situation. Bucky stood and walked to another area of the quinjet. He was grateful to be able to use this time to think.
“Y/n, we’re gonna need your help to get you home okay. What’s your last name? How old are you?” 
“Y/L/N” And then she went quiet. It never occurred to her that she didn’t know how old she was. Of course, she remembered her birthday, but she couldn���t tell the weeks and months apart, so she hadn’t celebrated it since she turned 10 in 2006. “What year is it?”
“When did they take you?” Steve asked gently. Being a man from another time, he could remember well the day he woke up in 2011 when it was supposed to be 1944. He knew how jarring it was to discover all the time that’s been lost, and wanted to spare her that grief.
“2006. I was 10.” She looked at him, and she could tell it’s not just 2008 by the look on his face. She knew her body went through changes over her time with the Men, but between the ‘dietary supplements’ they gave her, and the fact that she wasn’t looking in a mirror- much less shopping for clothes- she didn’t realize she had fully completed puberty. 
“Y/n, it’s 2016. You’re 20 now.” And that made the tears come harder. But she wasn’t so upset about the 10 years of her life. She was mad at 20 years of her life wasted. Since Bucky didn’t want her, all of the training was for nothing. She knew living for him made her the definition of a broken person- she wasn’t dumb. The idea of her Soldat was what grounded her all that time. When she was lonely, she’d think about the man the Men always tell her about. They told her how he was their ‘greatest asset’. And she often fantasized about if he would fall in love with her. So by the time she met him, she had already been in love with him for much longer than she’d care to admit- which makes the heartbreak of rejection hurt that much more.
Unfortunately for Bucky, his heart was heavy too. He tucked away into the tiny bed area on the jet after quickly handing Steve the water to give to y/n. It was too much. Being in that room with her, she looked at him like he hung the moon. But he most certainly had not. He was a murderer. Tony’s father was a scientist during the war, and Bucky knew him pretty well through Steve. And he killed him. He had scattered memories of hurting dozens of people, so why would she be so willing to be with someone like him?
Part of him wanted it. After almost a century of not owning anything and not having a choice, he was given the opportunity to have something that belonged only to him. A gift from the men who take care of us. If it wasn’t cruel, he would have laughed in her face. Maybe she was taken care of, but he most certainly wasn’t. She was brought in young enough to still be under the impression that Hydra wasn’t evil, just strict. He imagined for a minute how things could have turned out for the two of them if he hadn’t gotten free. If Hydra really was planning on giving him a gift. He didn’t like the last gift they gave him in the shape of an arm, but y/n was perfect. She was the perfect size for him- although his broad frame could dwarf most women. And her smile pulled at his heart.
He wanted to kiss her the minute he saw her. He knew he wanted to make her his.
And that was bad.
He rubbed his hand over his face and decided to rejoin the group in the middle of their conversation. Thor and Bruce decided to stop being passive members of the conversation and introduced themselves. Y/n was very confused at Thor’s proclamation as ‘God of Thunder’, but with all that was happening, she didn’t feel it was her place to question it.
“- a good thing we have spare rooms at the compound. You can stay as long as you like.” Tony finished speaking to y/n just as Bucky was walking into the room. “We’re gonna have a new house guest MC.” He waggled his eyebrows at the man who caught the back half of that conversation.
Bucky’s jaw dropped. This would only make the situation much harder than it needed to be. He looked to Steve for an explanation. The blond stood up and made his way over to Bucky.
“Look, Hydra scrubbed her records off of every database and-” He took a deep sigh, “Her family is dead, Buck. They probably killed them after they took her.” 
Then it was Bucky’s turn to sigh. He knew the right thing to do was to help her, but he also knew how much he wanted to feel her soft skin in his hands. And that made her dangerous to be around. 
What nobody knew was why Hydra took the 10 year old from Georgia. In 2006, the Winter Soldier was sent on a mission to kill a scientist that lived there. Of course the poor guy didn’t have a chance when the Soldier was sitting in his house, waiting for him when he got home, but what the Soldier wasn’t expecting was a little girl to be coming inside with him. The scientist looked sleazy and didn’t have any children, so who knows what would have happened to her if the Soldier didn’t get there in time. She screamed and cried. The comm in his ear commanded him to kill the girl for being a witness. But the part of the Soldier that was still Bucky wanted her to be safe. He shushed the little girl and asked her for her address. When she recited it to him, he rubbed her head and told her she was a good girl, before he dug his metal fingers into the child’s pressure points and she fell limp into his arms. y/n woke up in her bed, crying at the bad dream she must have had- her mother not even home yet. That was the first act of defiance Hydra ever experienced from the Winter Soldier. First sign of humanity and compassion. They knew if the mind control was getting weaker, he would be harder to control next time they unfroze him, but his protective nature of the girl would make her an asset to them.
Her capture was arranged before his heart was fully frozen in the chamber. Neither Bucky nor y/n remembered this- Bucky only remembering parts of his time under their control, and y/n never thinking about that bad dream again, but the connection was still there as strong as it was that day 10 years ago.
Part 3
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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago
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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, part one
(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)
Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!
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Reunions
All together in The Unclean Realm, The Yunmeng trio find a spot inside where they can sit down and have a proper Yanli-Wuxian reunion, while Jiang Cheng sits across the table watching them. 
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For years Jiang Cheng has been rejecting Wei Wuxian's free and easy affection; now Yanli might be the only person Wei Wuxian offers to hug until Wen Yuan comes into his life.
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Jiang Cheng is really going through it. He'll do nearly anything for Yanli--except, uh, stay in the goddamn inn with her when she's sick and the Wens are hunting them--and what makes her happiest is Wei Wuxian. He's brought them together, and so he's happy, even though he's excluded from their dynamic. This absolutely fucking kills me.
Here Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are sweetly pledging to always keep the trio together and put each other first. Neither of them will keep this promise. 
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Wei Wuxian will leave first, to take the Wens to the Burial Mounds. Jiang Yanli will leave second, staying in Lanling at Jin Zixuan's request instead of accompanying Jiang Cheng to retrieve Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng will be the last to let go.
(more after the cut)
Nie Huaisang comes literally running in, filled with joy at Wei Wuxian's return. When he goes to pat his shoulder Wei Wuxian flinches away.
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I feel like something important is happening in this rapid sequence of glances and expressions between Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang. NHS is startled, and WWX realizes he's shown something about himself that he didn't want to show. He glances at Jiang Cheng and back at NHS before laughing and covering his slip with a squeeze of NHS’s hand.
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NHS switches from shocked to cheerful just as quickly, helping with the coverup. It’s like they have a quick mutual agreement, rooted in their history of shared shenanigans, to not point out that something is wrong.
Meanwhile, Lan Wangji is wandering around the grounds, having feelings. At this point it's presumably been at least a couple of weeks since their breakup fight. 
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He sees Wei Wuxian sitting contemplating his flute, and as he sees him he goes from sort of neutrally apprehensive to full on angry judging, complete with sword clenching. 
Part of this may be that his feelings are hurt over their fight, but the larger issue is his distress over Wei Wuxian's apparent heretical cultivation.  That, at any rate, is what's on his mind when he's selecting music, later in the episode, and when he's selecting flashbacks. 
Party Time
Later, the Nies host an excruciating party to celebrate Wei Wuxian's slaughter of Wen Chao return. Jiang Yanli is sharing a table with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is sharing a table with his crippling social anxiety. 
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Everyone starts grilling Wei Wuxian about his sword, because that's suddenly all anybody cares about even though Jiang Yanli, Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao, and probably plenty of other people don't carry swords most of the time.
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Wei Wuxian says "after the Wens caught me, Wen Zhuliu crushed my core, so I can't use my sword any more, too bad so sad, can we change the subject?" And everyone is very understanding and admires his resiliency. HA HA HA HA HA. Of course he doesn't opt for that simple lie, but instead mopes audibly without saying anything.
Nie Huasiang tries to change the subject by asking how he killed Wen Chao. Apparently "I had a sexy ghost mostly flay him" isn't good party chat, though, so neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng opts to tell the story. 
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Everyone lapses into awkward silence, all the more noticeable because there are no dancers, musicians, or entertainers of any kind at this event. OP has gone to audit-kickoff meetings that were more fun than cultivator banquets.
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Moment of Clarity
While the awkwardness builds, we hear the sounds of the Song of Clarity. Lan Wangji is skipping the party, which is part of why Wei Wuxian is so mopey. But instead of sitting and stewing in his anger, Lan Wangji has shifted gears, and is starting to work on his "save Wei Wuxian's soul" plan.
This isn't the God-botherer version of soul saving, however. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian disagree about correct practice, but they both are still practitioners within the same spiritual system, and the majority of their beliefs are closely aligned.
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Lan Wangji has powerful magic at his disposal, and now he's taking a step back from his plan of forcing persuading Wei Wuxian to give up heterodoxy, and instead he's preparing to use his magic to offset the consequences of Wei Wuxian's choice.
He still isn't ready to accept that choice, but he's working on it. This is a big moment for Lan Wangji's relationship with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji is a deeply, deeply uncompromising person, as well as being super bossy, and he’s taking his first steps toward supporting Wei Wuxian’s free agency. 
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Wei Wuxian leaves the party in the middle of Yao's toast, saying "I have to see you and your lover all over my tumblr dashboard but I am NOT going to listen to you talk!" He takes his wine to go roam around near Lan Wangji's quarters to pine and feel conflicted.  Lan Wangji has thoughtfully set up a projection scrim to catch his shadow and make the pining easier.
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Jiang Cheng comes looking for Wei Wuxian, partly to reprimand him for rudeness and partly to see what the hell is wrong with him. Jiang Cheng is trying very hard to be pleasant. He's bad at it, but he's trying.
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Wei Wuxian is trying to be unpleasant and he's pretty good at it. He won't say why he isn't using his sword. He’s obviously super fucking depressed about it, calling his former self childish for liking to spar, and only smiling once during the whole exchange.
He finally tells Jiang Cheng that he will always want to do the opposite of what Jiang Cheng tells him.  Jiang Cheng lets this go with an eyeroll.
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(Point Break Quote Alert)
But actually this is a sign of trouble, right here in River City, with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for abandoning the Jiang Clan. Wei Wuxian has just told Jiang Cheng he has no intention of obeying him; not just about the sword, but in general. That's no way for a disciple to talk. 
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OP has nothing to say about this gif. OP watches gif over and over and over and over
Wei Wuxian ends the conversation by tapping Jiang Cheng's chest with his flute and then walking away. The (still nameless) flute has no problem with this - does it, like Subian, recognize Jiang Cheng as an extension of Wei Wuxian?
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The next day, Wei Wuxian is chilling in his room, looking ungodly sexy in his bold slashed robe, holy frack. I mean, he is sex-on-toast at all times, but the cut of his post-burial-mounds combo is particularly heart-stopping when he decides to stick a knee or two out. 
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He's meditating and flashing back to being in the burial mounds, where he was also meditating. I admire his ability to fractally meditate about meditating. 
Chenqing
He didn't put a sock on the doorknob, so Jiang Yanli comes in and startles him. He brandishes his flute at her before calming down. The flute definitely does not see her as an extension of Wei Wuxian, because when she touches it, it smokes and then knocks her out of the frame so fast it's comical.
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Did they put her in a jerk vest for that shot?
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Wei Wuxian hides the flute from her, freaked out by its behavior. She, however, is unfazed, and gives him the first & only affirmation he's gotten about his new cultivation path, and says the flute is "like Mother's Zidian."  She kind of walks him through the whole "first class spiritual tool" concept, beaming with approval and telling him he must name the flute.  
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Jiang Yanli is hardcore Jiang Clan, seriously. Freedom and impossibility. You survived 3 months of mystery trauma and now you're all fucked up? We'll roll with it. You have a demon flute now? Rock on. You're going to use necromancy to beat the other clans in a group hunt? Gold star for you.
He names the flute Chenqing, which @hunxi-guilai​ translates and explains in depth over here.
Bichen
Lan Wangji has finished practicing the Song of Clarity, and regardless of whether it's had an effect on Wei Wuxian, he himself seems much calmer. 
As Wei Wuxian contemplates Chenqing, Lan Wangji contemplates Bichen and remembers Wei Wuxian's assertions about resentful energy way back in Gusu summer school. 
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This time when he grips his sword, it's loosely, as if he's made some progress with his anger.
Soup
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Jiang Yanli sits Wei Wuxian down for some soup, and talks to him about what's going on with him, saying he's changed. He insists he's fine and works very hard to be convincing.
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She's not convinced but says she won't press him, and then abruptly shifts tone and works very hard to act like everything is fine. She leaves, taking a lot of soup with her, and Wei Wuxian remarks that it's unfair she is giving so much to Jiang Cheng. But of course, some of it is secretly for Jin Zixuan.
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Everything isn't fine, as Wei Wuxian scream-meditates with resentful energy just rolling off of him. He's got some of the dark energy stored in the Yin sword in his bag of holding, but I get the impression that a lot of it is just stored in his body.
Club Ruohan
At some point in the episode we stop in to check on Wen Ruohan. He and his wind machine are mad that Wen Chao is dead. 
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Meanwhile, his interpretive dances with the Yin iron now turn his puppets into...Klingons? Sure, why not. 
Literal Stand-Up Meeting 
Jiang Cheng needs Wei Wuxian at games night a meeting and comes running to Jiang Yanli to find him. He is freaking out and she tells him to chill. 
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No matter what fuckery is going on in the world, Jiang Yanli is going to find herself a nice little outdoor table and she is going to sit her ass down and have some tea and civilized lady activity. Queen.
This shot of the meeting is composed so nicely. The blocking (placement of actors) in this scene encapsulates the familial dynamics, and I’ll talk about that as soon as I finish admiring Jiang Cheng’s proportions. 
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Here we have four clans represented by four family pairs around the game war table. The Jin cousins, despite their differing personalities, are side by side, matchy-matchy, in lockstep. Jin Zixuan lets Jin Zixun do the talking for him, so maintains his own rep as a reasonable guy.  
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The Nie brothers are even closer together, also in matching greys, Nie Huaisang giving all of his attention to his brother/clan leader. You can see his careful watching of his brother's temper...not fearful for himself, but fearful for Mingjue.
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The Lan brothers have a growing distance between them; they are in different colors (which is pretty usual for them), and Lan Wangji is standing well away from his brother and the rest of the group. Partly this is his personality, but it's also symbolic of his growing distance from his brother and other proper cultivators. He's carrying WWX-related secrets, and he's wrestling with what he's learned.  
While Nie Huaisang is looking at Mingjue, Lan Xichen is turning around to see what's up with his own volatile sibling.
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Lastly you have Jiang Cheng, alone in the room, with his shidi nowhere to be found, and seriously feeling the heat because of his isolation. 
He's alone in his purple, but the color value (lightness/darkness) of his robes exactly matches Xichen's. 
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And Xichen, bless him, makes a point of speaking to him respectfully as a fellow clan leader, gives him a path out of the "where is your brother" conversation, and is just generally his kind and helpful self with Jiang Cheng.
Next: Awkwardness Increases!
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justcourttee · 4 years ago
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It’s More Than Just a Game Pt 1
@qualitypeacepainter sent me this wonderful idea for a Daminette Volleyball AU. It will definitely have several parts and I am so excited to write it so I hope you enjoy and I hope it’s something like what you had in mind :)
“So this is what a tournament looks like?” Marinette inhaled deeply “Do you smell that Nino? Air Salonpas. It’s so satisfying.”
She didn’t bother waiting for his response, she knew he was only here for her sake. Nobody could match her excitement for this day. It took her weeks, but she finally scrambled together a makeshift team so that she could enter at least one volleyball tournament before her middle school days were over. They had exactly three days of practice, but it didn’t matter.
Marinette was here to win.
“There are a lot of good teams here, please don’t get your hopes up Mari.” Adrien reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder as if he were attempting to pull her back down to reality. “Nino and I only know the basics, this isn’t anything like baseball.”
“Yeah Marinette, I know you gave us all a crash course, but this is way different from basketball.”
“And soccer!”
Her teammates all shared the same discouraged look on their faces. They knew how hard Marinette trained. Every day after school, she’d set to herself, pass to herself, spike at the school wall while the basketball team practiced. She was always helping them out, so the least they could do was help her form a team, but volleyball was something none of them knew much of.
“You guys worry too much! You’re all super athletic and the best friends a girl could ask for. There is absolutely nothing that could get in our way-”
Her sentence was cut short as a yell of excitement echoed through the gym. Instantly her eyes locked on the source of the commotion. Gotham Middle had entered and the crowd’s excitement was all focused on them. The teams around them begin to whisper, passing drills stopping as everyone took the chance to size up the competition.
“-it’s the King of the Court-”
“-I thought they weren’t entering this tournament-”
“-we’re so screwed-”
It was as if the world was crashing down around her. Marinette knew all about Gotham Middle. They were always featured in Sports Weekly as the top school in the volleyball world. In fact, there was even one student who was being scouted for the US National team. The King of the Court, Damian Al Ghul Wayne.
“I-I think I need to use the bathroom.” Marinette clutched her stomach, her face paling the longer she stared.
“Are you okay?”  Nino tried to offer her a hand to steady herself but she simply waved him off, stumbling past him to the hallway, her eyes dazed.
It’s just one team. It’s not like they would have to play them first. Of course, they would have a warm-up game, something to get her team in the groove. Yeah, there was no doubt in her mind. She came here to win, not worry about some top-ranked school.
Slowly she stood up, taking a few deep breaths, the bathroom door a mere ten steps away.
“I’ve never even heard of Dupont Transfer Middle.”
“Apparently it’s some French school that sends students wanting to study in America. It’s like a prep for American high school. They spend their eighth-grade year there to perfect their English and take any courses that wouldn’t transfer over.”
Marinette glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, standing in front of the water fountain were a couple of members of Gotham Middle. The only reason they would be concerned with her school would be..no..fate wouldn’t be that cruel right?
“They barely have a six-man team, they don’t even have a libero. Did they actually think they had a chance?”
“Hey!” Three sets of eyes turned in her direction, instantly wavering her nerve. “Don’t underestimate us.”
As if on cue, her stomach lurched once more, taking any confidence she had with it. The Gotham players shared a glance before busting into laughter.
“Is she serious? I think she is.”
“Is that the captain label on her uniform? Maybe we should show her some respect.”
Instantly, they all straightened, mock saluting her before dissolving back into a fit of laughter. Marinette wanted to give them a piece of her mind, but her stomach refused to let up.
“Hey, benchwarmers. It’s time for the warm-up. Quit wasting time.”
The three silenced, their face a mixture of fear and awe. Who could command such respect? The coach? The manager? Marinette’s eyes strayed to where the voice came from, her stomach immediately dropping.
“The King,” she slapped her hand over her mouth, hoping she hadn’t said it loud enough to offend the guy in front of her. He didn’t even glance in her direction, his fierce glare completely focused on his teammates.
“Right away sir. Kasey, fill up two more.”
Damian Wayne. He couldn’t have been more 5’7”, but compared to Marinette’s 5’1”, she was in awe. It was impressive how he could command so much respect with just one look. She watched as he turned, taking a few steps toward the gym before pausing once more.
“Relax James, you act like we’ll need a lot. Just look at our opponent.”
It was as if they completely ignored his warning. Their giggles only enraged Marinette.
“What did you sa-”
“Did I stutter? Quit wasting time. You’re barely benchwarmers, quit acting as though you’re good enough to look down on your opponent.”
Marinette watched as they all paled, gathering their bottles before rushing back into the gym. None of them dared to make eye contact with him. Marinette released a chuckle of her own. He might be terrifying, but he really wasn’t a bad guy. Marinette relaxed as she stood, a friendly smile tugging at her lips.
“You know, I was just about to say something to them myself.”
His glare shifted from his retreating teammates to where she stood. Instantly she felt a shiver down her spine.
“You’re not even physically ready to sit the bench, don’t talk as if we’re on the same level. What are you even doing here anyway? Making memories? This is a tournament for people who are serious.”
“I am serious, my team is serious. We’re here to win and that means we start by defeating you.”
Damian took a step forward. Suddenly those six inches felt a lot taller than they were. Marinette fought with herself to not move away.
“You say that like it’s so easy.” The waves flowing off of him made her want to shrivel up, but her anger anchored her feet.
“I may not look like much, but I can jump. Really high. I will jump over any wall your team puts in front of me.”
He simply scoffed, only fueling her rage. Everyone always underestimates her, she hated it. She just wanted to be taken seriously in the sport she loved.
“You will simply be a stepping stone on the way to our championship.”
Before she could even respond, Damian turned his back, returning to the court, leaving her fuming in her spot. She wanted to declare war, rush him and take him out before he could even step onto the floor, but her stomach had other plans. Gripping her gut, Marinette turned to the bathroom, her face paler than before she left the gym.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“Dudette! You were gone for like twenty minutes. It’s our turn to use the court. How do we warm-up?”
Marinette scanned the other side of the court to where Gotham Middle stood huddled, occasionally glancing back at her teammates. All except one. Damian stood alone, his arms crossed, his eyes closed. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was meditating.
“Let’s work on passing. It’s something we all struggle with and I think we’ll really need it with this team.”
Five minutes passed and as they lined up for the beginning of the first set, Marinette’s eyes locked onto his from across the court. She already had a fire burning when she stepped into the gym, but it was as if he threw coal at her until she was ablaze ready to annihilate anything in her path.
“We will win.”
Her teammates shared a look of skepticism, but none voiced their concerns. They didn’t have to. It had only been ten minutes, but the score was already 12 - 0. The only one drenched in sweat was Marinette. The energy for the rest had been drained after the first service ace.
“Nino! Set me up!”
They were barely keeping the ball in the air with iffy passes that they were sure the ref was only letting slide out of pity. Nino was the only one who could decently set. It was nothing compared to the flawless and quick sets the King was serving on the other side, but Marinette could care less. All she wanted, was a chance to hit the ball.
His set was shaky, the ball wobbling as it flew, threatening to fall out of the sky at any moment. But to her, it was perfect. On instinct, Marinette jumped, her palm connecting to the ball. A satisfying thud came from the other side of the court as the gym silenced, trying to process what had happened.
“Did they just score?”
“Forget that, did you see how high she just jumped? She must’ve been a foot over the net!”
The whispers got louder until a single clap echoed from the crowd leading to another and another. As her feet touched the ground once more, Marinette immediately shot Damian a smug look. His mouth hung agape, his eyes a mixture of anger, and did she catch a hint of admiration? It was even more satisfying than the sound of the ball hitting the court.
“Why didn’t you get that?”
Marinette flinched as he turned on his teammates, his face fuming.
“Dude, you were in shock too! We didn’t think they had-”
“This is why you don’t underestimate anyone, ever. You give every team 100% of your effort.”
Damian turned back to the net, his eyes narrowing in on her. It took everything in her not to crumble as she picked up the ball, tossing it to Adrien. She had a kill. Her first one in a tournament and not even the terrifying demon behind her could stomp on her moment.
“Okay, guys! Here’s our chance. Let’s turn this around.”
Her excitement spread through the court, each of her teammate’s risking a smile. Their fire may not have been as bright as hers, but it was finally starting to shine through.
“You’re right Marinette. We can’t promise anything flashy like the King over there, but we will get you the ball. No matter what it takes.”
This was the chance she was waiting for, the chance to motivate her team. Now that she had their attention, she didn’t want to waste one second of it.
.  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“It was a close game Marinette. Please don’t be upset.”
Marinette waved off her friends, her smile tight.
“They won in two sets and we barely hit double digits both times, but it’s okay guys, really. Thank you so much for helping me out. I’m going to stay for a while, so go on without me. I wanna watch some more matches.”
Her friends shared a look of skepticism, but one by one they slowly stood, all leaving until she was the only one left. Marinette sighed as she stood herself, working up the courage to step back into the gym.
“I told you it was useless.”
Marinette glanced over her shoulder only to meet an annoyingly familiar face blocking the entrance.
“Don’t you have something better to do than gloat oh glorious king?”
“Tt, I only wanted to point out that your jump was impressive, but volleyball is not a sport that you can get by with athleticism alone. You set yourself up for failure.”
It was Marinette’s turn to scoff as she brushed past him, intent on not speaking another word.
“A piece of advice for you. Drop volleyball while it’s all fun and games for you. High school has no place for a foreigner with no talent.”
“I’ll beat you.” Her voice was soft but cold. Damian didn’t speak a response, but he didn’t move either as if he were taunting her to continue. Marinette turned her head until she had a full view of his scowling face. “Whether it be when fall comes and my team smoothers yours or even if it takes ten, twenty, no fifty years, I will destroy you King of the Court. All I have to do is be the last one standing, right?”
He didn’t respond, only offered her a small grunt before exiting the doors. Her eyes followed him until the bus doors closed and Gotham Middle pulled out of the parking lot.
“I will get better, just you wait Damian Wayne.” Marinette took a step forward, her eyes zeroing in on the match in front of her. High School was only three months away. Three short months to make her declaration a reality.
She smiled, the fire in her eyes stirring with a deadly glint. 
“Next time we meet, I will destroy the King of the Court.”
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awake-dearheart · 4 years ago
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it took me a couple days but here’s a rundown of things sebastian said during the zoom call with his trainer don saladino and the march challenge group. he was on for an hour and three minutes total. keep in mind this challenge was fitness oriented so most of the questions revolve around that. this will also be LONG.
first of all he had trouble unmuting himself which was hilarious
he had a carboard cutout of the falcon with him which made everyone laugh
he loved being able to support ronald mcdonald house and he was sad they couldn’t go this year. sweet baby
when he was asked what he struggles with in his fitness he immediately said body dysmorphia. like no hesitation. he said he felt like he could stand to be less hard on himself.
he prefers cardio over other kinds of workouts.
he mentioned a role he’s getting ready for that’s “a lot different” but he laughed it off and said he couldn’t talk about it. i’m thinking it might have been tommy lee?
he tries to workout even just a little before he goes to set even when his schedule is crazy.
when he started training he had NO idea what he was doing. it took him a while to get into a routine and figure it out. he credited don with working a lot with him and finding a routine that works for him.
he feels better when he can do something physical every day. he said it really helps him mentally because the two go hand in hand for him.
someone said they were learning romanian and asked him for phrases to learn in romanian he said (in romanian) “oh my GOD why would you do that?” he also said he thinks people learning romanian because of him is “one of the sweetest things.”
he was asked how he balances training to look good vs training to feel good and he said if he’s training to look good he’s never 100% satisfied. training to feel good and setting short term goals has been better for him. 
don praised him for working hard to pivot his focus on the overall vs the day to day. seb said it was a lot harder when he started than it is now.
someone asked him if the workouts or the nutrition was harder and he immediately started talking about pizza and how much he loves a good cheat meal. the chat blew up talking about his cheat day video for men’s health. 
seb asked don his favorite cheat meal and they went on a tangent about burgers and fries and vodka that had us cracking up. seb said he went through a period where he was eating some kind of chocolate every day.
someone asked if he found it mentally difficult to go from one body type to another for roles and he said absolutely. he said if he has a shirtless scene to do then a month before he cuts out ALL sugar. fruits, carbs, everything and he turns into a very irritable person for about two weeks.
he was asked how the pandemic has changed his training and he said of course it has. him and don worked together to create a program for him to do from home with dumbbells and they had to get inventive. he’s been running a lot too.
someone asked the strangest item he’s used for weights and he said he’d go to the grocery store by himself without uber or anything. he tried to do one big shopping trip to last him for a week and half and he’d be laden with bags and it took him an hour and a half to walk home.
he told a story about using a towel and a bar in his house and he said “you probably know it because some “super fans” love to leak my address. so kind. lovely people.” the chat became v enraged.
he’s never had to get in shape on super short notice. marvel usually gives him about a 2 month heads up before he has to shoot things.
someone asked if he was a dog person. he said he loves dogs and he’d love to have one but he travels too much to give one the right kind of attention. he said if he could have a dog he’d have a bulldog or a husky.
he was asked his favorite nyc cheat meal and his first answer was “seeing all of you there” and we all cracked up. his real answer was a pizza place called rubirosa. he specifically likes their white pizza. (who wants to go to new york and get pizza with me?)
who would win in an iso squat challenge? him or don? (iso squats are when you drop into a squat and you hold it. it’s been the most hated exercise throughout the challenge). his face was HORRIFIED when he remembered what they are and he said don would definitely win. “don you have thighs of glory” the group is contemplating making shirts.
he played some sports in school but he wasn’t a super athletic kid. he struggled in school a bit because he had an accent and people were picking on him. it took a long time for his confidence to build.
celebrate victories where you can. he talked about when he posted that shirtless picture from the gym as an example. he said it’s more for motivation and pride in his achievements than about showing off.
he mentioned the documentary “the weight of gold” as something he watched recently. he said it’s a good example of people who are gold medal olympians struggling with the same things as everyone else when it comes to fitness. he comes back several times to not being too hard on yourself. 
he hasn’t lifted any weights in about a month and a half but he’s been running. he’s surprised at the amount of muscle he still has because he thought he’d lose a lot of it.
taking breaks when you’re working on fitness is so important. he says taking a week off sometimes is ok if that’s what you need.
they have talked about pizza at least 5 times at this point (32 minutes in) and it’s HILAROUS honestly.
he hates leg day. he knows how important it is because you need strong legs but he prefers doing arms and chest. “the squats can be so annoying UGH.”
someone asked him his advice for people who are starting an acting career and he laughed and said “quit all social media.” he walked it back and said you have to find a way to quiet the noise. 
this mfer went to theatre camp when he was 15 and he did MUSICALS. we tired to get him to sing. it didn’t work.
“you gotta do you. you cannot lose you as you’re going. and you cannot care what people think.”
he talked about imposter syndrome in terms of getting reviews and stuff. he said when he gets bad reviews it hurts but sometimes when he gets good reviews he can think “oh my god they made a mistake” or “oh my god i have to deliver like this every time.” he said if you’re starting out ask yourself why you want to do this and make sure this is what you want to do day in a day out. make sure when you face rejection and obstacles you have the energy to push you to get back up and say “fuck you i’m doing me.”
recommended the book “the subtle art of not giving a fuck” as something he loves.
“there’s creativity in everything. you don’t have to be a pianist or an actor or a writer. there’s creativity in all functions. as people we’re all creative.”
he went back to instagram for a minute and said to use it for the right things and follow the things that you like or are inspired by. he loves that social media can be used to reach people but you have to filter through the negative stuff.
someone asked the meanest thing don’t ever said during training and he said don’s never been mean but he’s always been inspiring and motivating for him. cute lil bromance moment.
he was asked if it’s harder to get into shape physically for the winter soldier or mentally. he said now it’s more of a head thing than it was in the beginning. the physically part was challenging for him in the beginning because he wanted to feel strong to build his confidence. he felt he couldn’t be bucky without being strong. 
civil war was his real hair but when they started filming it wasn’t long enough so he had extensions. by the end of the shoot it was long enough to cut the extensions out. 
the line between overtraining and not being motivated to train enough is hard for him sometimes. things tend to come all at once or not at all and it can be a struggle. 
he meditates and does some kind of physical activity every day at the start of his day. it makes him able to do the things he needs to do for the rest of the day better.
he thanked everyone for their support of tfaws and “making us look pretty good.” he’s very grateful for the turnout.
don says falcon weird. that’s not important but i wanted to mention it.
running is his go to thing. he feels like it’s a good meditative thing for him.  his go to pandemic workout was 100 pull ups, 100 push ups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats and alternating with running. we all panicked and were like “100 PULL UPS AT ONCE??” and he was like no no no no no no no no space that shit out during the day.
he loves breakfast but he doesn’t eat it at breakfast time. he joked he was going to eat breakfast after the call (which ended at 7PM). he likes anything with eggs and avocado. 
there are still directors he wants to work with that he can’t get to see him for parts. he did three audition tapes, two in person auditions, and a screen test to get bucky.
he just recently learned what “thirst pics” are (he figured out from the chat it’s thirst traps). when someone told him that picture from the gym was a thirst trap he was like “oh great well that sounds terrible.” men’s health didn’t call him until after that pic. he had reached out to them before that but that was the thing that made them call.
“make fun of yourself. you have to not take yourself too seriously.”
they both talked about how being able to do things like this is a privilege. there are always days when seb or don or anyone walks into a gym and doesn’t want to be there.
this is the part that made me emotional as FUCK. he’s had days where he’s gone to set and been like “what the fuck am i doing?” he says every time that happens he thinks “this is the time they’re gonna realize i can’t do this. this is when they’re all gonna know i’ve never been good at this.” he said in those moments you can’t just say “no no no i’m the best.” he said sometimes affirmations work and they can be as simple as “i’m gonna try to have a good day today” and it doesn’t have to be “i have to be the best version of myself.” it can just be “i wanna have a good day today” but on the days when you don’t feel good about things and don’t know what you’re doing he said you have to go there and say “ok i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. fuck everything.” be in the thing that’s happening to you and give yourself permission to be down for a minute. find a compromise with yourself. if you can’t run the same three miles you’ve run all week and you just don’t want to, maybe you go for a walk instead. (his example not mine i DO NOT run). when he’s been in those moments of defeat accepting it had lead him to things he didn’t plan for and he finds those moments to be gifts in a way. accepting it and saying “today is that day” your body and your mind can start moving into finding other little things to do.
he came back to pizza one more time. i love him.
he recognizes how lucky he is to have the life he has. he says it’s important to pay attention to give a fuck about things and to give a fuck about things that will help other people. 
watching him talk the whole time he seemed so happy and relaxed. he seems like such a light hearted and fun person and he laughed SO much
that’s the end y’all. thanks for sticking around and reading all my hastily typed notes
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vegalocity · 3 years ago
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Happier version of Tripsun, time travel nonsense where LMK Sun Wukong meets post-journey Sanzang with General 6?
Dialogue starters
6. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”
ah hell yeah
--
Every time he’d be allowed to share moments like this with his former Master, Sun Wukong would say to himself that he could never forget how at ease he could feel. How warm his chest was and the faint sweet shivers that would crawl up his spine and make his fur fluff out could never fade.
And yet every time it was allotted to him again it felt like new.
Perhaps because of how long it had been since their journey, but those random times his Monkeys would inform him someone was nearing the mountain, and when he’d poke his head out in bird form and see that golden light, made his gut jolt and heat to flood his face and neck as though he were some adolescent with a crush.
Of course he’d roll out the welcome wagon (just modest enough that Tang Sanzang wouldn’t chide him for being a showoff even after everything, but could easily be passed off as his Monkeys being as excited as he was to welcome the monk back to the island) and lay out as much food as he could get away with without again, his master scolding him for extravagance and sparing him only a few small knowing smiles over the feast of mountain fruits.
And they’d catch up of course, over food, over tea, and then just sitting somewhere pretty, His master would extoll him the stories of his new students, comparing and contrasting them to his first merry band of disciples (usually a coy smile hidden beneath a sleeve as he said someone or another was just as hard to handle at first as he had been) but a strikingly proud gleam in his smile as he praised students he wouldn’t dare speak aloud to their faces to avoid the building of ego) And Wukong would extoll the current drama of his monkeys and how this or that dispute was brought to him over plums or some other such simple yet silly thing. Truly the stories he had left to tell weren’t near as extravagant as the battles he once went on five hundred years ago, but his master always responded to the comings and goings of Flower Fruit Mountain with as much interest and immersion as he would the mightiest of battles.
And then came the moments when the stories finally ran dry and the two were allowed to simply be in eachothers presence, usually spent meditating on his master’s part while Wukong simply lounged about or read or just sat quietly with his master, enjoying the company in a way the outside world had grown far too bright and fast and loud for.
But this visit was different.
He’d woken up on the mountain, which was strange granted they were li upon li away (Kilometers, they use kilometers now) and his Monkeys were rushing up to him shrieking in fear and panic, hooting and hollering and demanding his attention to an assumed intruder.
He’d been suspicious of course, he’d anticipated anything, the calabash, an illusion, something that would REALLY need his truth seeing eyes (using them had started giving him wicked headaches; his power was so close to gone) but the golden light had already faded when he came outside, ready to fight-
And his eyes fell upon a familiar figure on the sandy shore.
And then he could only hope this was an illusion, as the idea of somehow being transported back home right in time for Master to put himself so close to the danger of the Lady Bone Demon again made his hackles rise. So despite the pounding headache that started the second he summoned the power he gazed around them with golden eyes, gliding over his master’s buzzing cicada wings, his monkeys peering at him curiously, and focusing his gaze to the city-
-where there was neither the silhouette of the skull nor the grid-like patterns of an illusion’s edge. Nor even the city itself.
There was a town, sure, but not a city. A town that had been in the… sixteen hundreds or so? About a century after he’d sealed the Demon Bull King away and dropped in on master to tell him he was considering retiring, that he’d be on his mountain if he needed him, and he was always welcome if he wanted to visit.
And about a century after that, Tang Sanzang had taken him up on the offer. And there he was.
This was the first visit. The throbbing pain in his head proclaimed this as not a dream, the golden vision proclaimed this not an illusion or a trick. This simply… had happened. He had replaced his (slightly) younger self for a time, and this was where he was. The first time.
Maybe this wasn’t for him so much as it was for the others, being given a past version of himself with his powers still in tact, Maybe his past self could protect them all in a way he no longer could.
His monkeys were giving the monk a wide berth and he watched him look around, normally serene expression slightly crumpled as he looked for a path up the mountain. At this point he could easily appear there with a flick of the wrist, but his master never believed in the easy way (except when it came to riding Longma for the entire journey, but he bullied him enough about that as is)
He called a couple of his monkey generals to him and gestured to the beach. “We’ve got a treasured guest here boys, bring out some of our best fruits! The monk drinks no wine so our most potent teas as well!” The two chittered between each other and saluted him. Ah… he missed when his monkeys could much easier take orders.
“Why if my eyes don’t deceive me! Is this the virtuous Tang Monk I spy? The carrier of the Tripitaka himself? Why if any demon consumed his flesh it is said they’d become immortal!” He crowed, and watched as his master quickly covered his mouth with a hand, suppressing a laugh before schooling his expression back into the unimpressed line.
“It seems as though I've wandered to another mountain full of dangerous demons.” he stated, monotone and dry, but playful grin quickly betraying the tone. “If only I had some gallant disciple to protect me from the oncoming dangers”
Sun Wukong tumbled from the trees and gave a mock bow. “Say no more virtuous monk! No demon worth their salt can stand a fight against I, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven!” there was a pause.
And then his master’s laugh was all he heard. It took him a second to join in, taking a hairdsbreath too long to enjoy the sound, but soon enough he was escorting the monk up to his home.
He had barely been able to wait to tell his Master about Xiaotian, and yet here he was having to avoid the boy’s name entirely while he searched to remember stories and drama from the monkeys four hundred years ago. He mentioned briefly that he was considering taking on a successor but hadn’t decided on it yet. His master told his own stories and He found himself possibly enjoying it a bit too much, Master had only recently passed by his thousand year mark of being immortal and he had still not quite gotten the hang of it yet. All the same he was doing his best and it was nostalgic to watch him try so hard to maintain what came easily to him in the future.
Then the stories ran dry and he gestured for his master to follow him, and reached his favorite spot on the mountainside, it overlooked the town that would soon become a city and they’d have the best fireworks. He didn’t share that information with master, but it didn’t matter, just his presence was enough.
But before he could vanish into the ‘somehow always like new’ feeling, Tang Sanzang turned to him with a worried eye.
“Have you been taking care of yourself?” It was a question he didn’t remember being asked on that first visit, one that took him aback.
“What do you mean, Master? I’m fine.”
“Bad Monkey, don’t bother lying to me, you keep wincing as though you’re in pain and you can take beatings that would make mountains crumble into ravines! You keep rubbing at your fur as though there are wounds that are still healing beneath when it takes so much just to pierce your flesh! Was your fight with the Bull King really so intense that your wounds act up even a century later or are you concealing other things from me?” damn those perceptive eyes. He didn’t USED to be perceptive, he used to fall for basically every demon trick!
Then again, he probably wasn’t doing too great at covering up the lingering wounds on his body either.
“I’m fine master, I’m sure everything will be back to normal when i’ve rested some.”
Well that was the exact wrong thing to say as he watched the Monk’s face pale. “Have I been keeping you from rest? Oh, you fool of an ape you should have told me!” Tang Sanzang turned to face him properly and for a moment Sun Wukong’s brain short circuited entirely as he placed soft hands on either of his cheeks to cup his face. “I can return at any time! If you’re injured you shouldn’t feel pressured to remain in my company!”
“I want to be in your company.” It came out in a way he wouldn’t have been able to mask the adoring warmth to, no matter how hard he tried. “Master, I enjoy nothing quite as much as I do our quiet moments together.” He had to go visit him himself upon returning to his time, he’d forgotten just how much he could miss the monk once again.
Tang Sanzang huffed and it seemed like that had at least turned his upset into more garden variety aggravation. “Bad monkey…” He shook his head, and in the dim light of sunset it almost seemed as though his master’s cheeks turned a pink shade of their own before he brought his hands down to take Sun Wukongs in his own, and stood. “Well if you feel so strongly about that then clearly I’m going to have to see to your recovery myself.” The monk looked off to the side and a small smile came with a featherlight chuckle. “How strange, a near reverse of how things once were between us.”
He chuckled as well at the irony and watched his master’s grin widen. “Indeed. Well, if you insist, I shall submit myself to your fucking fretting, baldy.”
Now THAT got a real laugh. and a soft 'Language!' between chuckles.
He’d get summoned back to his own time when Past Him was done doing whatever heavy lifting he’d gotten too weak to be able to handle no doubt. But for now he didn’t see the harm in enjoying the peacetime as it lasted.
--
Send me stuff
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rin-archives · 4 years ago
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Like We Always Do | Kim Sunwoo
Inspired by always and the vlive videos he has listening to keshi
Pairing: Kim Sunwoo & Female reader AU: Collegeboy!Sunwoo Word count: 1,851 Warnings: FWB relationship, mention of alcohol, drinking, mention of having sex (but not describing it) Genre: I don't really know what this is lol feel free to give it a genre? Author's Note: Initially I had a plot but while I was proof reading, the plot didn't match anymore lol I hope you enjoy reading it though!
You didn't know what to expect when college started for you. You didn't expect to meet your two best friends, Changmin and Chanhee. You didn't expect to meet their group of friends, especially Kim Sunwoo.
He wasn't the approachable type unlike the rest. Though you had difficulty reaching out to Younghoon at first, but you later realized that he was as crazy as your best friends were, especially if he was with Chanhee. They bicker a lot.
Jacob, Eric and Kevin became your second group of best friends. Especially when your classes didn't have Changmin or Chanhee, you'd either have one of the three instead. But you weren't always so lucky to have classes with them either. When you had physical education, you were alone. You got acquainted with your classmates in that class, all except one. Kim Sunwoo.
Whenever it's that class, he acts like he hasn't seen you before. He would avoid eye contact with you, he wouldn't stand next to you or near you which you thought was very rude. He even asked if he could switch partners with someone else when your teacher asked you to stretch in pairs. But that didn't work, so for the rest of that school year you were stuck with him as your stretching partner.
Finals was getting closer and that made you a home body. You didn't meet with any of your friends, and they didn't meet with you either since everybody wanted to try hard for the finals. Your studying was going smoothly until you had to work on your physical education finals project. Your finals project was to create a video about different ways to exercise at home. When the topic was given, you already had ideas, you just needed to execute them on video. "Now that we got the topic out of the way, I’ll be assigning your partners. Remember, this should be a team effort. This is either a pass or fail grading."
Your mind went blank. Especially when your professor said that you would be paired up with someone. You were praying to all the gods that you knew to be paired with anyone except Sunwoo. But it seemed the gods weren't in your favor.
Days after the announcement, he went to your apartment as you guys arranged in class. As much as you wanted to meet up outside or in a cafe, Sunwoo thought it would be much better if there weren't any people so you could brainstorm peacefully. He had a point, and he offered his place, but you didn't want to take any chances. So, now here you both are, brainstorming in the living room with snacks and a few cans of root beer.
"How flexible are you?" sunwoo asked, very randomly at that. "Um, I don't know? I mean, I did gymnastics when I was younger, but I didn't continue that anymore. Why?" you were nervous to ask for the reason, but it could have something to do with the project. "I thought about doing yoga. It's one way of exercising, plus it comes with meditation and a whole lot of core work to do some poses. So, I thought, why not do this?" he pushed his laptop monitor to you and showed you, his research. A couple of tabs were open that had different videos about yoga and a few articles about it were open too. People who knew Sunwoo thought that he wasn't a very good student, and that's what you honestly thought as your first impression of him. That impression you had though is long gone. You saw how serious he was while researching and compiling all your resources together. When he said he'll give you his part of the project, he delivered. When you both decided to work on the video at his place, you initially thought he'd turn you down in an instant, but he didn't. He cleaned up his place a bit on the day of the shooting and even prepared some yoga mats he borrowed from his sister.
From morning till late afternoon, you guys were working on the project; creating a script, thinking about yoga poses you'll both be doing and individually while one of you explains, and editing your first draft. Working with Sunwoo was productive. Surprised? You were too. He was the one who took the initiative on editing the video while you take a rest. "You can take a nap on my bed. I’ll work out here in the living room." he offered. It was a sweet offer, but you turned him down gently and said that you'll help him edit, even if you weren't the one using the laptop.
An hour later, you fell asleep without knowing. Sunwoo stretched his arms and legs then looked over to you only to see you asleep. Your head on the arm rest, while your legs were curled up to your chest. He figured you'd be uncomfortable, so he gently took your legs and placed them on his lap after removing his laptop that was previously there. He saved the video before closing it shut and eventually, he too fell asleep.
5 hours later, you woke up. Still feeling groggy but you managed to sit up to stretch an arm and rub your eyes. You looked to your right and noticed your legs on Sunwoo's lap. You blushed instantly and thought about removing them, but you didn't want to startle him. You checked the time on your watch, and it was almost 11pm. You needed to go if you wanted to catch the last bus ride back to your place, but you didn't have the heart to wake him up. Moving an inch closer, you took this opportunity to look at sleeping figure...and admire it in between.
You noticed how his nose was perfectly pointed and how his lips were so plump that you suddenly started wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by him. Startled by your own thoughts, you lightly shook your head and let out a small chuckle. People have always talked about how Sunwoo wasn't partner material for projects, but he was the exact opposite. He contributed a lot than you expected, and you were thankful to have a partner like him.
For the next few days, your schedule would have Sunwoo in it. Even after finals week, you would hang out whenever you were both free. When your final grades were given out, both of you passed and you wanted to celebrate with him. Only if he was up for it. "What do you have in mind then?" he asked. "Hmm, well, what do you do when you want to celebrate?"
"Stay home." he chuckled when he saw you rolled your eyes. "I’m serious!"
"I’m serious too. I just stay home. I only go out when the guys want to hang out." you sighed, crossing your arms and pouting. He found that cute, but he wouldn't tell you that obviously. "Come over to my place. We can watch a movie, have dinner and dessert." it didn't sound like a suggestion and an invitation. It felt like he was really telling you to come over, which you didn't mind since you've been there a couple of times during and after finals week.
After your last class, Sunwoo waited for you by the school entrance. Both of you went to the convenience store first buying some snacks and drinks (this time you went for alcoholic drinks) in case after dessert you'd get hungry. Arriving at his place, he told you to make yourself comfortable like always. You plopped yourself down on his couch, removing your cardigan and placing them on the arm rest. Sunwoo was in the kitchen preparing your instant dinner and taking out a bottle of soju.
A bottle of soju turned into bottles. The movie that he put on was dismissed, just playing in the background while you both take turns drinking as you played spin the bottle. It's usually fun with more than two people but you guys were having the time of your lives. It started out as a wholesome round, telling each other secrets you've never told your closest friends and such. Until Sunwoo started becoming flirty with you. You went with it at first thinking that he wasn't serious in doing it, but the more his actions got bolder, the more you started to realize that he was really hitting on you. Was it the alcohol? You can't really blame it on the alcohol. Was it the game you were playing? That's not it either, for sure.
"Are you flirting with me?" you boldly asked when the bottle pointed at you.
"What if I am?" he gave a small smirk.
"You better be responsible for doing it, mister." you said with a joking tone.
He let out a chuckle, you did the same and silence came into the room. You were just gazing into each other’s eyes, both showing a flirty smile, not realizing that Sunwoo have moved closer. Your cheeks were heating up. He probably saw a faint blush on your cheeks when he moved closer to you.
Slowly, he continued to move but this time he sat in front of you. You looked down on the ground and saw his hand slowly approaching yours to lace both your fingers together. Your cheeks were burning up. You didn't want to look at him because you were getting nervous, anxious and shy. But he made you. He lifted your head by putting his index finger and thumb under your chin, his eyes found yours and you couldn't help but stare back at him. Should you say something? Should you do something? You were starting to panic that you did something not like your character.
You kissed him.
You kissed him so abruptly that you didn't even had the chance to close your eyes, like how they kiss in the movies. You were about to pull yourself back but Sunwoo pulled you closer; he cupped your face, slightly tilting his head to kiss you better. You were melting. Your eyes shut slowly, and that kiss evolved to something else that involved getting in bed, getting naked and a lot of moaning.
Whatever you guys did that night, kept happening. Your friends didn't know but your best friends surely did. You couldn't hide it from them. But they told you to be careful. Being friends with benefits with someone is tricky. As Chanhee said, "There will always be someone that will fall in love in this kind of relationship." but that wasn't you.
That really wasn't you, because right after you graduated university, you went abroad. Sunwoo knew and you said goodbye to him. You didn't keep your plans a secret and neither did he.
He would always think about you though. Remembering the first time you met, your finals project, your first time in bed with him and your continued relationship as friends with benefits. He wished that he could turn back time and go back to those days.
Like we always do.
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yasbxxgie · 4 years ago
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The Artist’s Way: Writer-director Radha Blank ruminates on creative frustration and rejuvenation in her debut feature, The Forty-Year-Old Version
Fair warning: This interview with Radha Blank isn’t business — it’s personal. Right now, like at this very moment, Radha is being introduced to the world as the writer, director, and star of the remarkable new Netflix film The Forty-Year-Old Version. But I remember Radha in the 1990s, smashing open mics at Brooklyn Moon in N.Y.C., rocking a fitted N.Y. Yankees cap and big hoop earrings. I remember her jumping into cyphers and catching wreck (read: she can dance her ass off) at Club Kilimanjaro. I remember sitting in the audience of her play Seed in 2011 and thinking, Damn, homegirl can write. I remember witnessing the rise of her emcee alter ego and one-woman show RadhaMUSprime at Joe’s Pub in 2014 and thinking, Damn, Radha can rhyme. AND she funny AF. Because Radha was (and is) a part of a close-knit artists’ community, I also recall her hustle, the keeping-the-lights-on-while-trying-to-make-your-dreams-come-true shuffle we know so well. Radha worked as a teacher, she wrote for children’s television and for shows such as Empire and She’s Gotta Have It.
So when The Forty-Year-Old Version won the U.S. Dramatic Directing Award at Sundance earlier this year, the community rejoiced! This wasn’t just a win for Radha, it was a win for the people. Here was a film rooted in Radha’s own story, about a woman at 40; a Black artist trying to get her stories told — as a playwright and as a rapper; a daughter grieving the death of her mother. Radha told her story her way, down to shooting the streets of New York on 35mm film in black and white. The result is a whole, liberating mood. There’s even a nod to Prince’s Purple Rain.
Karen Good Marable: First of all, Radha, congratulations! The Forty-Year-Old Version is amazing. Your success feels so much like a win for Brooklyn. A win for us all. Thank you for writing it. Radha Blank: I really did make it for us — us being Black women, Black women of a certain age, Black women artists of a certain age. I didn’t think I’d be starting a whole new career in my 40s, but I think it speaks to what’s possible if you let go of other people’s ideas of where you should be in your life. If I listened to other people and gave credence to their ideas, I would not be here.
Amen. When you were younger, did you have the boxes to check, i.e., “I need to get this done by 30, I need to get this done by 40”? Were you that girl? RB:
I think I was that girl. And I always say this about aging: It’s never really about the person; it’s about other people’s perceptions that you then take on. I thought by 40, I would be married with a couple of kids, all of my work being published, theaters asking, “Can we do a revival of this play now?” I really thought once I decided to be a playwright, which was probably my mid-20s, I thought, Oh, by 40, I’m going to be set up. I will have a house. And I do have a house, but that came from Cookie and Lucious Lyon. They got me a house.
Come through, Empire. RB:
I feel like we’ve all been conditioned to think that 40 is: You’re an adult, you’re accomplished, you’re established. What me and my character share is there’s still all of these “who am I” moments, questions around identity. Especially when my mother died, I really had to figure out who I was, because so much of my life as a woman, as a person, as a Black American, as an artist, was tied to this woman. When she died, I really had no sense of myself. So I feel like my personal experience propelled me toward telling the story. We just don’t see women of that age saying, What do I do next? Am I happy? Is this enough?
Your mother — curator, visual artist, cinephile, and arts teacher Carol Blank — figures prominently in the film. She is a goddess and a guide, but she also represents a complicated lesson in what it means to be an artist. RB: Oh, listen, I feel like everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned from my mother — from my frustration as an artist to being a teaching artist for so long. That’s where I learned how to be a director, honestly. I didn’t go to film school. I did stand-up comedy and all this performance stuff, and my first example was my mother. She knew how to turn a phrase or a joke to get the kids interested, and if they weren’t, she wasn’t going to push it. I learned from her first, and I tried to match her energy.
I don’t know what my mother went through when she turned 40, as an artist. I know she was a mom of two by that time, but I gathered — especially because she was a teaching artist for so many years — that she was hustling, jumping between these different roles, trying to make sense of something for herself. In that way, I feel like the movie and my journey as an artist brought me closer to her. I was like, Oh, this is what you had to go through. And then you had two kids on top of that?
In the film, your character is also a teacher. As much as she tries to model support and positivity, sometimes the frustration seeps through. One line stayed with me: “Don’t think that because you created something, people will appreciate it.” RB:
Yeah, I have been bitter. I was able to transform that into a film; it gave me a story to tell. But I did feel that theater as an institution didn’t pay off, there wasn’t much of a dividend. I had done a play in 2011 called Seed, and everyone was like, “Girl, this is your breakout! This is your moment! This play is going on Broadway!” None of that shit happened. Theater was not responding in the same way. I was quietly devastated by it, and I think the movie is my exploration of the why. How come things didn’t happen for me? Here’s someone who has been trying for 20-something years and my biggest accomplishment was 10 years ago when I was 30. That’s why I invented the 30 Under 30 award for my character: The idea that accomplishments are amplified by one’s proximity to youth. There’s no 50 Under 50 award. Or 60 Under 60. Being young and doing something as an artist seems more of a cause for celebration. You know what I mean?
There’s also this theme of displacement that runs through the film. In addition to your protagonist feeling out of place in the classroom and in the theater community, she’s also setting a play, Harlem Ave, that deals with gentrification. RB:
So, my parents were gentrifiers in their own way in the late 60s and 70s, when they moved to the south side of Williamsburg, Brooklyn. They didn’t displace people, because what they and their artist and jazz musician comrades would do is take over dilapidated spaces that were considered unlivable — broken-down lofts and factories and storefronts — and create community. There was an investment in engaging the community that came before you, whereas now I think gentrification really is just about an opportunity for the person moving in — “Oh, look at this dope, cheap brownstone that I can get” — with no regard for what came before.
Right. RB: The same thing happens with these artistic institutions: They find a dilapidated space, they revive it and put a million dollars into it. Then when it comes to programming, the people on the stage don’t look like the people outside of the gate. They’re thinking of their silver-haired patrons, because those people can afford a $100 ticket, and that is who I feel most of the theaters cater to. So when diversity shows up on the stage, it’s a version of diversity that protects the audience from feeling bad about racism or sexism. They can still remain in a comfortable place, so they can come back next week or next month and see something for the $300 membership.
But then you brilliantly juxtapose said institutions with the battle rap in the Bronx. RB: I wanted to show these different hubs of art in New York. This film is about capturing an authentic New York experience, and so we shot that battle rap scene at a warehouse space at the tip-top of the Bronx. Art and culture are happening in these spaces that we’re not always focusing the camera on and that don’t have the multimillion-dollar renovation fund of a downtown theater. But this is theater. This is art.
Is that battle based on an actual show? RB:
Yes. Well, we recreated that. Babs Bunny, who people may recognize from Making the Band, created this brand called Queen of the Ring. If you go on YouTube, you’ll see their battle raps. I would watch them because I just needed to see women slaying shit and not being proper or polite. I just wanted to put it into a cinematic world.
Your pen is equally hard-hitting, Radha. Rhymes like “Poverty Porn” and “This Some Bullshit” do so much in revealing character, advancing the narrative. RB:
Thank you. I mean, I feel like if we’re stopping to listen to a song, it should still be about advancing the narrative. We’re still moving forward, riding on this person’s frustration, but into the next scene, next act, or what have you. I think it comes from being a playwright, making sure that everything is earned and not just thrown in there for novelty or because it’s colorful and interesting. I feel like RadhaMUSprime is probably an explosion of her consciousness, the things that she’d been suppressing.But yeah, I’m an emcee. I rhyme. The beautiful thing about the film is I didn’t have to become a professional rapper. I don’t feel like the movie is 8 Mile. I say the movie is 2 Mile,
because she’s not trying to go that far. She’s not trying to be a hip-hop star. For her, hip-hop is a meditation and it shows up in many ways, from the trap beat floating outside her window, to her freestyling in the mirror, or with the dudes in the basement cypher at Arlene’s Grocery.
In some ways, the moral and artistic struggles of The Forty-Year-Old Version remind me of Hollywood Shuffle, Robert Townsend’s 1987 classic. RB:
I appreciate that you bring up Hollywood Shuffle, because I know that because I’m Black and I’m shooting in black and white, people always make the comparison to She’s Gotta Have It. But I feel like my film calls back to Hollywood Shuffle, about a Black artist confronting the white gatekeepers on who gets to tell a Black story and how.
Exactly. And like Townsend, you wrote, directed, and starred in your own first feature film. How was that experience, and do you think you would do it again? RB:
I wouldn’t say I regret being in my film, but I think that there’s probably more of a fascination with my film because I’m in it. And I have too much respect for actors to call myself one. I don’t come from training. I don’t sit in these auditions day after day. I don’t have to endure seven callbacks for a role. I just think that when an audience is familiar with a face, it might make it easier for them to go down the line with this person. So while I don’t plan on being in another one of my films, I do plan on mining my family legacy for storytelling, and on telling stories where music is a driving force.I really want to be an auteur. I’m hoping that my stories get quieter. Very quiet, but very potent. A slow burn, but such a beautiful payoff. I want to make work like that.
Amen.
Photographs:
Radha Blank on set, t & m
Radha Blank with her fellow cast members
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heyheydidjaknow · 4 years ago
Text
Can I have a lighthearted chapter? No, I cannot. Can I upload at the due date? Also no. But you can always count on me to make characters suffer. I would say that I'm sorry, but then I would be a liar.
Chapter 8
“Will you shut up?”
Donatello looks up from his computer. “Huh?”
Raphael’s eyes do not leave his magazine. “You’ve been muttering under your breath for the past hour and it’s starting to get on my nerves.”
“You’ll live.”
“You won’t for long if you don’t cut that shit out.”
He sighs. “Are you ever content with just leaving me be?”
“As your brother? No.” He sets the article down. “You’ve been acting weird all week. Usually, I could not care less, but you wreck enough shit without the added benefit of being distracted.”
He looks back at the screen. “So, I’m a ticking time bomb to you?”
“Yes.”
He looks back at the screen as he tries to think of how to answer. “It’s just that…”
“Oh, wait, don’t tell me.” He smirks. “You’re all depressed because your girlfriend has a life.”
He goes red. “I don’t care if—she’s not my girlfriend, first of all.” His voice rises.
“Sure, sure.” He stretches. “You know, typically, girls aren’t into guys who obsess over them.”
“Look, I’m worried about her!” He sets the computer down.
He blinks. “Why?”
“Are you kidding?” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “She killed a man!”
“Yeah,” he nods, “and I’m pissed I wasn’t the one to do it. What’s your point?”
“True,” he smiles cooly. “What you fail to consider, however, is that the rest of us aren’t psychotic.”
“I’m hurt.” He places his hand on his chest. “I will have you know that I’m definitely sane.”
“See, this is why nobody comes to you about their problems.” He leans his head back. “You ask why I’m down, and you immediately give me a hard time.”
They both turn their heads toward the entrance as their two other brothers walk back into the lair.
“How’d it go?” Raph gets up to meet them.
“You didn’t miss anything.” Leo sits down next to Donnie, glancing at his laptop before staring at the empty television screen. “Nobody was there.”
“Really?” Donnie’s eyes tear away from his computer screen. “Nobody?”
“Man, it was weird.” Michelangelo stays standing. “It was, like, two bots and then nothin’.”
“That is incredibly suspicious.” The tallest brother saves his work. “You used the stuff, right?”
“Worked like a charm.” Leonardo stretches. “So, what’d we miss?”
“Donnie bitching about not talking to his girlfriend for a whole week.”
“Can it,” he hisses.
“Donnie,” his brother speaks from next to him, “I’m sure that Y/N is perfectly fine. If you’re worried about her, you can and should go check on her.”
He groans. “If it were that simple, I would’ve done that by now.” He holds his head. “But what would I even say?”
He sighs, “I’m not going to say the same thing every time.” He gets up. “Mikey, you try. I’m going to go meditate if anyone wants to join.”
“Hey!” Mikey sticks his tongue out at him. “How come I have to do it?”
“Because Raphael is as cuddly as an eel.”
Raph glares. “Do you wanna go right now?”
“See?” He walks off. “And I did it last time. Your turn.” They hear the doors to the dojo slide closed behind him.
Mikey sits down in Leo’s spot. “If you want,” he offers as his brother walks off to the dojo, “I can try talking to her.”
“Would you?” He sighs. “I’m not good at this sort of thing.”
“For sure, man.” He gives him a thumbs up. “What are brothers for?”
“If you don’t make him do things,” Raphael warns, “he’s never going to learn to do them.”
“Man, he’s our bro.” He wraps an arm around his neck. “You can’t just leave your bro out to dry.”
“The hell I can’t.” He gets to his feet. “You guys have fun with that. I’ll be in my room.” He walks off, taking his pet turtle with him.
“Don’t listen to him.” He shoots his brother a thumbs up. “I’m sure everything will work out.” Mikey hopped to his feet. “Be back in a bit.” He waved, running out of the lair. “I’ll be back in ten.”
--
The look on his face is less than reassuring.
“Well?” Donatello, who has been checking the time religiously, is sitting at the door like a dog waiting for his owner. “How did it go?”
He smiles tightly. “I have good news and bad news.”
He groans, holding his head in his hands. “Just tell me.”
“Well,” he says hesitantly, crouching down in front of him, “she’s not dead.”
“That isn’t exactly a high bar to hurdle.” He takes a deep breath. “What’s the bad news?”
He pauses. “She’s… freaked out.”
“On a scale of one to ten,” he asks slowly, “with one being—”
“Nine.” His younger brother nods certainly. “At least a nine.”
He stands up. “I should go check on her.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what to do.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I think I made things worse, actually.”
“What else is new?” He runs out. “Tell Leo I’m going out,” he calls over his shoulder. He does not wait for a reply.
He does not blame himself entirely for the events currently happening; he is well aware that her inclusion into their mess was not willed by him. However, a part of him can not shake the belief that he and his brothers have, by virtue of their lifestyle, caused her more pain than he had ever wanted. A part of him, still, believes that he or someone else should have bitten the bullet; of them, you should be the last person in line to murder.
‘I should’ve said something, done something.’
He lands down on your roof, starting to scale down the building. You have left your window open: he can see your floral curtains fluttering in the autumn breeze. Artificial light streams from your apartment as soft music plays from inside. He lands on your windowsill carefully, reaching in past the curtains to knock on your wall. “Y/N?”
He hears the music shut off the shuffling of bedsheets, three steps. You pull the curtain open.
You have not slept in a week. You have continued to go to school, scared as to what would happen if you did not, but you have not eaten or drank in a while either; more accurately, nothing has stayed down. You have contributed these things, easily, to the newly introduced variety in your nightmares. You wonder, now, if seeing his body would have been such a bad thing; your head has conjured up every possible position he might have fallen in, anyhow. At least, if you knew, you would only have one image torturing you as opposed to the seemingly different variations your head could come up with.
Donnie is not a psychologist. He has never been able to fully grasp the subject as much as the others in the scientific field; all of medicine, for that matter, has, regrettably, been hard for him to wrap his head around, what with how different he and his brother are from humans, physiologically. His master was the closest he had to an actual human until you had shown up, but he was hardly exemplary of your typical human. However, be it by what knowledge he does have or by the way you hold yourself, he can easily tell you are off. The color in your face is gone, the bags under your eyes larger than he has ever seen them on you, and every move seems oddly sluggish to him.
“Oh, hey.” You smile tiredly. “If you’re here about Michelangelo, he was just here a few minutes ago.”
“I’m not.” He climbs inside. “He got back to the lair ten or so minutes ago. Are you alright?”
Your eyes are flooded with black for a moment, a wave of numb pain and vertigo washing over you as you spread your stance slightly, not wanting to trip over your own feet. You hold your face in your hand as you steady yourself. “Totally.” You wince as you nodded. ‘Let’s not move our head more than we need to.’
Years of attentiveness and common sense tell him that you are blatantly lying. “What happened?”
“Huh?” You close your eyes. “Oh, nothin.” You take a couple steps back, slowly sitting back down on the bed, which was covered in packets. “Please,” you insist, “make yourself comfortable.”
He shuts the curtains, crouching down in front of you to look your features over more closely as he tries to identify what, exactly, is wrong with you. “Am I allowed to touch you?”
You look down at him from your seat. “I mean,” you sigh, “you _can_, if you want. Just not anywhere a general physician wouldn’t touch, alright?” You give him a half-hearted thumbs up. “I trust you to know where you can and can’t put your hands.” You highly doubt that he has any bad intentions, really, but you want to make your intentions clear.
“O-oh, of course,” he nods quickly. “I wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t—well, not that you wouldn’t—” his face went red. “I-I mean—”
“Dude, relax.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Take a deep breath or I’m gonna the wrong idea.”
He does “S-sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “That was weird.”
“You’re all good.”
He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “You don’t have a fever,” he notes, still red in the face. “Did you eat anything you normally wouldn’t?”
You give him a thumbs down. “I’ve only had soup. Do you want some?”
He blinks. “Soup?”
“Yeah.” You look back at the kitchen, where a pot of soup is sitting on the counter. “Ran out of leftovers a couple days ago.”
His eyes widen. “Days?”
You nod, wincing as you feel your brain pounding against your skull. “Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s been hard to keep things down. Glad I ran out, actually; I think I got a—”
He cuts you off. “How many days do you take between meals?”
You pause. “Now?” You shrug. “One meal every day or two.”
“Day or two?”
“Again,” you repeat, very confused as to why he looks as though he is about to have a heart attack right then and there, “it’s been hard keeping stuff down lately.”
“How are you not dead?”
You blink. “I beg your pardon?”
His voice rises as his speech sped up. “How many cups of that do you eat in a sitting?”
You sit up properly. “Maybe three or four and a couple pieces of toast?”
He looks about ready to pass out. “Are you insane,” he cries, an octave higher than usual.
You cover his mouth with your hand. “Shut up,” you hiss. “You’re gonna wake my neighbors up.”
He stops talking, grabbing your hand and pulling it off his mouth. He gets up, muttering something about being ridiculous as he pours you an unusually large bowl of soup and placing it in your lap. “Eat.” He stands there, glaring at you pointedly.
You are, admittedly, surprised by his icy, commanding tone. You do as instructed. “You act as though I’ve poisoned myself,” you point out between bites. “It won’t kill me, you know.”
“I’m not a licensed dietitian,” he informs you, clearly upset, “but the recommended caloric intake for a woman is approximately four thousand calories—”
“That’s wrong.” You are already halfway through the bowl. “It’s two.”
“Do you seriously want to get into a debate on something science-related right now?” You are genuinely scared by his expression; every word sounds oddly lethal, as if they themselves could kill you.
You swallow, standing your ground. “We can look it up, if you want,” you offer. “I know for a fact I’m… right…”
He has glared directly at you. It almost shuts you up.
You quietly eat the rest of the bowl. You set your spoon down with a gentle clatter, clearing your throat as you try to ignore the way he was staring at you as if he were trying to dissect you with his eyes. “Done.” You showed him the empty bowl.
“You genuinely see nothing wrong with your dietary choices?”
You shake your head, immediately regretting it. “I know it’s unhealthy, but not to the same degree you seem to think it is.”
“And you honestly believe that you only need to eat two thousand calories to be healthy?” His tone was softer now, likely in reaction to how quickly you had recoiled.
You nod hesitantly, ignoring the way your head pounds.
He pauses. “We’ll talk about that later,” he decides. “For now, I have to ask: why can’t you keep food down, exactly?”
You lean back, placing the bowl on the nightstand. You stay like that, closing your eyes. “I just keep seeing it,” you explain simply. “Hearing it, too; it’s kinda like tasting really bad and then having the aftertaste stuck on your tongue, but for memories. Or like doing something embarrassing and, every once and awhile, having something happen to remind you of it.”
“It? Oh.” As soon as he says the words out loud, he knows what you are referring to.
“Yup.” You pop the P. “I dunno if you knew, but it doesn’t splat.”
A heavy silence smothers you both, despite the sounds of the city.
You feel the bed shift. Your eyes glance over at the man lying next to you, hands folded across his stomach as he stares at the ceiling.
“I honestly don’t know what to say.” He sighs. "I wish I knew how to do right by you.”
“You don’t have to—”
He cuts you off. “I want to, though.” He rubs his face with his hand. “I want to be able to invent something that makes things easier for you, to keep you from getting hurt.”
“Dude, it’s fine.” You punch his arm lightly. “I’ll be fine, eventually. Just not right now.” You smile weakly. “But, hey? At least my dreams have a bit of variety, right?”
“Dreams?”
You chuckle tightly. “It turns out my head is rather creative when it comes to ways the body can bend. I almost wish I had seen the bodies; then they could all be consistent.”
He groans. “See, it’s stuff like that that makes me feel bad about not being able—not that it’s your fault,” he back peddles. “I just—”
“Stop stressing so much,” you cut him off. “That’s my job. Don’t put yourself into a tizzy on my account.”
“How could I not?” He threw his hands up in the air. “I care about you, Y/N. I’m obviously going to care if you’re alright.”
You pause. “My mental stability should be the least of your concerns right now, what with Shredder and all.” You close your eyes. “The only reason he hasn’t beaten you and your brothers within an inch of your lives is that I knew where he’d be when. All things considered,” you roll over to face him, “my having bad nightmares is a small price to pay.”
Another silence.
You sigh. “You should probably get going.” You pull yourself onto your elbows, leaning forward onto your knees. “I gotta stake out Shredder’s lair tomorrow so you guys know when to come in.”
He sits up next to you. “Y/N, I—”
“You should stop worrying so much, alright?” You smile gently. “I have some sleep meds if your dad needs them.”
He opens his mouth to say something, pauses, closes it again. “Alright.” He stands up. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”
“You didn’t.” He didn’t.
He stops in his tracks.
You rest your head on your legs. “Yeah?”
“Will we see you tomorrow?”
You purse your lips. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I’ll definitely call you, though; it’ll be something of a feat to hijack a hijacked chemical truck.”
He looks back at you. “Please, be safe.”
You nod.
“Eat, too.”
You nod again.
“And drink?”
You roll your eyes teasingly. “Yeah, Dad, I’ll eat.”
His face flushes again. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You got it, buddy.”
You look so small.
‘I did that.’
He climbs onto the windowsill, hesitating to leave. “Goodnight.”
You wave lazily. “Goodnight, Donatello.”
He climbs out of your apartment.
You wait a minute or two before you close and lock your window. You pull the curtains shut properly behind him, walking back to the kitchen to put the food away.
You sigh, doleful. “Sorry.”
--
You were maybe thirteen years old. It feels like longer, but you were most certainly in middle school
Driving home after school one day, you had stared out the window, the radio playing something you half paid attention to. You don’t remember, now, what prompted the conversation—you figure it was some sort of assembly you had mentioned—but, somehow, the question of what to do if you were tied up in the back of someone’s car had been brought up. This was not an unusual line of conversation, considering your family’s conviction that you would be kidnapped someday, but you remember it specifically because, after he brought it up, you had run the scenario over in your head what felt like a thousand times.
“It depends on where you are in the car,” he had said. “If you’re in the back seat, you have to reach forward and try to choke the driver out, if you can’t get the doors open.”
“And if I’m in the front?”
“Ram your body against his. Get a hold of the wheel and swerve the car.
The line of thinking had confused you. “But,” you countered, “then the car would crash; we would both get hurt.”
“You have a better chance of surviving a car crash than whatever would happen to you once you get to wherever you’re going.”
You two had not spoken for the rest of the drive.
Now, you stare ahead at the road, eyes occasionally glancing at the man in the driver’s seat as you try to come up with a plan. You wish, now, that you had gone with your initial instinct to call instead of sending Leonardo a text message; who knows when he will get it?
“I feel almost sorry for you,” the man sneers. “You would be better off getting killed in the explosion than what’s going to happen to you.”
You say nothing.
“Hey?” He barks out a laugh. “You’ll get to see what happens to them.” He sighs happily. “I can see it now. The smoke, the fire, the smell.”
You eye the door. ‘Locked. Shit.’
“Those freaks won’t know what hit them.” He leans forward, staring at the truck in front of them. “Shouldn’t have messed with us if they didn’t want to meet their maker.”
‘Could I even survive it?’
“You know somethin’, kid?” He grips the wheel tighter. “I gotta give ya some respect; not a ton of kids would’ve come this far. Personally,” he shrugs, “I would’ve killed you right then, but Shredder wants more out of ya, apparently.”
‘Would he?’ You shift your feet to your right.
“I’ll thank you for one thing, though; I was getting sick of that pompous asshole.”
‘I just gotta get his hands away from the wheel. There are people in the back of this van. They’d survive, right?’ You fight to keep your breathing steady.
“For someone who hangs with those freaks, you ain't slick, hangin on the street corner.”
‘They’re ninjas. I gotta believe they’d be fine.’ You shut your eyes, stealing yourself.
“How you got Bradford is be—hey!”
You slammed your torso against him, eyes squeezed shut.
“What are you, fucking suicidal?” He yelled, trying to push you off.
You pull away, slamming one foot against his cheek and stuck the other into the wheel. You hear honking as you desperately bang your foot into what you pray is his body. You feel the car speed up as he screams obscenities at you. You force the wheel away from you as hard as you can.
The next few moments are a blizzard of broken glass, voices, and blackness as the metal deathtrap tries to shake the life out of both of you.
You figure that you must have passed out a second, for the next thing you remember is the smell of gasoline.
Your eyes snap open. You look over at the man stuck half out the window. You reach back, trembling hands fumbling with the buckle strapping yourself in. You slam yourself against the front window as you hear it click open. You use your arms to pull yourself through the hole, the rope slicing against a stray piece of broken glass.
Your head is spinning. The only thought currently on your mind is to get away from the car.
For some reason, you find yourself unable to stand. You, instead, crawl, dragging your body desperately away from the wreckage. You do not feel yourself doing it, ignoring the glass shards sticking themselves into your palms and under your nails, the way they slashed into your stomach and sides as you drag yourself over them completely irrelevant as you claw towards the sidewalk.
You hear the explosion.
You pull yourself into an alley, waiting for the ringing in your ears to stop as you hear the conflict happening a few blocks down. You swallow your vomit as you stare forward blankly, the smell of smoke filling your nostrils.
Another.
You fall forward, tears filling your eyes as the pain settles in. You do not know what happened to your legs, only knowing for sure that they could not and would not support your weight. Every muscle and every tendon is vibrating. Your hair sticks to your body as your clothes soak in some sort of warm liquid.
You do not like that smell.
‘Why is everything spinning?’
You hear yelling, the screeching of wheels against asphalt.
‘I’m going to die.’
The sentence repeats in your head over and over again as you lay there in the alleyway.
‘I’m going to die here.’
You do not know why you are shaking right now.
‘I don’t want to die here. Not now.’
“Help,” you beg. “Please, God.” You feel a sob rise in your throat. “I don’t… wanna…”
You hear screaming.
“Help,” you breathe.
You black out.
Table of Contents
Chapter 7
Chapter 9
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nanagoswife · 4 years ago
Text
For You? Always.
Chapter Two
Summary: Ben tells reader some bad news.
W/C: 1.8k
Warnings: Mention of cancer
<<Previous, Next>>
A few weeks went by. Most of it was the usual business that happens in the office. One thing that was not, but became a usual occurrence, was talking to Ben. 
Throughout these weeks, you talked quite often. Almost every day. 
Often, he had to come to your office to coordinate with a few things for a new book that was being published. You would talk while you did, helping the time pass. Most of what you told him was stories with Siara, which helped him gauge how her personality changed since high school. In the process, you also gave him tips on what to do if she was mad, cranky, and more.
In return, he talked about his friends. All of whom lived everywhere other than here. Ben said how he has a lot of people he gets along with, but he’s not too close with any of them. Well, except you and Siara. 
Listening to his stories, he also delighted you in some from law school.
By this time, you had figured out how you knew him. You remembered not only school, but the cafe as well. This all confirmed your theory of why he left, but that day was never brought up.
“Siara has been the first one I’ve talked to in a while that I get along with easily. Same with you. Everyone else, I find, is nice but not very talkative,” he said after a small pause.
“Trust me,” you put a hand on his shoulder that slightly stiffened but quickly relaxed, “with time, they’ll open up. At first, it was the same for me as well. But after a few weeks, when they get used to you being here, they’ll act as if they never only made small talk.” 
Your words helped him relax and you felt the tension in his shoulder release a little more. Grinning, he gave you a nod of thanks as you brought your hand back with the other on your keyboard.
Turning back to the paper in front of him, he asked a few more questions for the project before leaving. The day was over after that, and you had personal plans to relieve the stress of work. Otherwise you’d ask if he wanted to talk longer.
Grabbing what you needed, you headed out.
Walking home, it was calm for the usual rush hour. Though this was a quieter part of the city, the traffic still gets bad some days. Today, the quietness helped as you took in a deep breath of the fresh air. 
The office was only a fifteen minute walk away from your house, making the commute enjoyable in your mind. It helped you relax for a bit.
Arriving at your single floor home, you stayed and read on the comfort of your couch until the last of the sun had disappeared from the sky. Then, it was time for you to leave and do something you did quite often. Going to the park to lay on a patch of grass to watch the stars and, most of all, admire the moon. 
The park was only a few minutes away. Like usual, the park was empty at this time of night. This left the walk on the path quiet and letting you begin to calm yourself at the sound of the gentle breeze waltzing through the trees.
Finding the usual patch of grass that was on a slight incline, you sat down and took in your surroundings before laying down. A few long blades of grass brushed your face, making you giggle at the ticklish sensation. You brought your arms up and placed your hands under your head as a pillow. Closing your eyes, you let yourself slip into a state of meditation, sensing and taking in everything around you.
The crisp night air was a refreshing change to the long day of heat that had faded. It ran a cool trail through your lungs, only to be warmed again as you breathed out. 
You slowed your breathing, drawing in long breaths each time. Leaves being rustled in the trees as it danced along with the light gusts of wind deepened your meditation and calm. 
Opening your eyes, the large moon lit up the sky, being assisted by the many shining stars that surrounded it. Instead of taking away the moon's beauty, it only made it more evident. Everything was perfect.
“Excuse me,” a soft voice sounded from behind you. 
Startled, you instantly sat straight up, feeling a slight sense of embarrassment flow through you. Turning around, you saw a figure standing on the dirt path. He looked familiar.
“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 
It was Ben. You could tell it was his voice as he sounded frantic to make it known that he didn’t mean to startle you. He hung his head down as if he were mad at himself for scaring you in the moment. 
He continued, “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t know it was you otherwise I would’ve stayed silent.”
“Ben, it’s fine.” You saw him raise his head with a small, forced grin. “I just come here often and I’ve never come across another person here. Well, not at this time of day, anyway.”
“I’m sorry, I can leave i-if-” he started to turn away.
“No, don't worry about it. It’s fine,” you cut him off, seeing him stop mid turn. 
As you looked at him, his features were complimented in the moonlight. It was something that mesmerized you, like the moon. A light illuminating the darkness of night. 
Then, you noticed that you were staring at him and you worried about how long it was for.
“May I?” Ben took a small step forward as he gestured to the area beside you. Nodding your response, he slowly made his way down, but not without first hesitating. 
Quietly, you laughed to yourself. You’ve noticed in the last few weeks that he’s very courteous and gentlemanly. Always punctual as well, putting aside the first day. Yet you wouldn’t be surprised if he had gotten there on time but hesitated and waited for someone else to arrive before he entered.
Letting himself sit beside you, he leaned back, supporting himself with his elbows and put one leg over the other. For yourself, you brought your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. Oddly, you felt very comfortable with Ben here. You had always thought it was better alone, but this seemed more enjoyable.
The two of you sat in silence before Ben said, “Thank you.”
This confused you, “For what?”
“Helping me adjust to the new work environment, the tips, tricks and just letting me talk. It’s not something I’m used to,” he replied while looking at the stars. Then he turned to look at you, “Also, thank you for not turning me away.” 
You looked over at him to give him a smile, but was met with a down expression when he looked away for a moment. As he looked back up at you, he gave a forced grin.
“Are you okay?” You had to ask. It seemed like something was getting him down and something desperately wanted to help. 
From these few weeks of talking he became a good friend. You also knew that he was a pretty upbeat person. Everything he talked about had an energy, a passion that made him look kind and determined.
He took a deep, shaky breath but stayed silent for a few moments. You could see the glisten of tears slowly building up in his eyes.
“When I got to my apartment,” he started shakily, “I had a message on my answering machine from my mother telling me to call her. And, when I did sh-she told me-” 
His tears started to roll down his face, but he contained himself enough to say the rest. 
“She told me that she was waiting to receive results for if she ha-had can-” Ben broke down into tears, curling forward, holding his face in his hands. 
Even though he didn’t say it fully, he didn’t need to. You could easily piece the rest together.
Hearing him cry made your heart sink. You placed your hand on his back and gently rubbed it in comfort. Your own tears welled up in your eyes from the moment. 
Suddenly, he leaned over, resting his head on the side of your knee. You didn’t mind. Not only because of the situation, but because it felt natural. 
For a while, you continued to lightly rub his back. You did this until he calmed down enough.
Sitting back up, he sniffed and wiped his face dry. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-”
“Nonsense, you have no need to apologize. I’m just glad you aren't alone.” Saying this in a soft tone, you watched him gather himself up, taking a deep, wavering breath. 
Bringing his knees against his chest, you were both silent for a few moments.
“Do you know when she’s going to get the results?”
“She said in the next two to three days. All she told me is that she found a lump and they aren’t sure if it’s cancerous or a simple bacterial growth,” he replied. You rubbed his shoulder and then turned back to look up at the sky, dropping your hand from his shoulder.
You saw him slightly shiver. You would’ve dismissed it had you not missed having your hand resting against him. 
To shove this away, you cleared your throat and thought of an idea.
“Stay home until you find out. I’ll talk to Siara. I’m sure she’ll do fine by herself for a few days.”
You watched as he looked to you in surprise. It was like he thought he’d be forced to go to work through something like this.
You gave a small grin, “If you need more time after that, take it. We have more than enough people to cover so that you can use this time to be with your mom during this.” 
You met each other’s gazes, Ben gave a smile of thanks. Something about it warmed your heart.
For the next couple of hours, Ben stayed. It was spent mostly in silence, only a few words were exchanged. What you didn’t pay attention to was the time. 
When you looked at your watch, you cursed under your breath as you bolted up. 
Ben looked up, concerned, “Is everything alright?”
“Yes but I wasn’t paying attention to the time, leading me to stay longer than I meant to.” You started to stand. 
You took a few steps and then paused, turning back to Ben.
“And you better stay home otherwise I’ll be kicking you out of the building.” He laughed at that as you said bye, walking away quickly. 
Usually you’d stay longer, but tomorrow was an early start.
Next>>
@stardancerluv @jaydenwoo @madmax2003
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bluebird722 · 5 years ago
Text
Aftermath of the Dream
Pairing: Damian Wayne/Robin + Raven
Rating: M for explicit sex scene
Author’s Note: As usual, for @tigerdude94, @rachelalghul, @chromium7sky, @lunastar92, @damnshipper, @dcgzilla, @quothxthexravenx, @dcdweeb, @grassfour, @xxitzmikoxx, @andthendk, @unk-vi, @ravenfan1242, @raventrigonsdaughter, @xaphrin, and everyone else who has kept Damirae alive for years. 
Post-JLD:AW, right after the Flash runs to create a new Flashpoint...
White faded into black.
***
Two weeks had passed ever since everybody woke up from that horrific dream, but it wasn’t just a dream. Even Titans East—consisting of Speedy and Bumblebee and Kid Flash—had experienced it, being murdered one by one, and they admitted that it felt too real; all three of them woke up in cold sweats. They shared it with Nightwing and Starfire via a video call.
“It’s so strange that you guys felt it, too,” said Speedy. “At this point…I don’t think it even was a dream!”
“Do you think…it was some kind of spell or something, that made us experience it?” asked Blue Beetle.
Damian remained silent, but from what he had gathered and researched, some things—some people—didn’t exist. There was no Superboy of any kind, and he found that "Tara Markov" was the Princess of Markovia who was registered at school under that name. There was no such thing as something called the “H.I.V.E.”, and the Court of Owls was a nickname for the Gotham elite, which Father detested.
Not surprisingly, the other person most affected was the one with ashy milk skin but with no jewel on her forehead. Ever since they all woke up, the two of them were distant from each other. Any time she caught him looking at her, she looked away. When she offered to heal him from an injury during combat training, he backed away and refused. It was obvious that she herself had seen, had felt the romance between them but was unsure of what to make of it.
Two months of awkwardness had passed. In that time, Nightwing had left the Titans to co-mentor Batgirl with Batman, Batwoman, and Batwing but continued to date Starfire. Wonder Woman’s sister, Donna, had moved into the tower without officially joining the team. Beast Boy, the notorious green changeling, had left the Doom Patrol to work solo and then decided to join the Titans. Not to Damian’s surprise, even Garfield admitted to feeling that same dream.
Still, he felt even more distant from Raven, who spent all of her free time meditating and barely talking. It only frustrated him more, even if he himself refused to initiate any conversation with her. Finally, he confronted her after she finished meditating on the roof. She seemed to be expecting him, for she barely lifted her head when she said, “I felt everything, too.”
He stopped and frowned at her. “How do you explain that?” he harshly asked.
She finally met his eyes. “You and me. The dream.”
“Everything?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Everything.”
Damian wasn’t afraid of anything, let alone confrontation, but he felt awkward addressing this.
“And I do not wish to address it,” she said curtly.
“Address what?” he spat.
She didn’t look at him. “The thought…that it would take the deaths of our friends and…they’re our family…” Her eyes closed in sorrow. Damian wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say. “I didn’t like…that you would lead your grandfather’s group of assassins after everyone died.”
Damian frowned. “You didn’t,” he reminded her. “You turned down my offer.”
Her eyes gave him a dangerous glare. “Do I look like the kind of person who would want to lead a number of people who kill?”
Damian frowned. “No—”
“Then what makes you think I would do that, even with all of my friends dead?” she interrupted. “Didn’t you—in that dream—say that you wanted me to, because you had feelings for me?”
Her question was like a slap to the face. Damian continued to frown at her, but his chest ached. No coherent thoughts came to him. “I’m going inside,” he said instead, and he turned around, ignoring her “You didn’t answer my question, Damian.”
He went into his room and picked up his sword. Practice was the best way to release his feelings; he dare not think of talking about them.
***
Two years changed from tension to… Damian couldn’t describe it, but over time, he and Raven were able to make eye contact again. They began to go back to having conversations. Damian adopted a rescue puppy who took to falling asleep on Raven when she read on the couch. He wouldn’t admit it, but her body was still attractive, and he fantasized about stroking her hair. He wanted to pick her up and carry her around bridal style.
For her, it started during a botched robbery. They prevented the theft of a scientific experiment from within a lab, but Damian had suffered a gunshot wound to the shoulder and was bleeding profusely. Raven was quick to rush to his side, remove the bullet, and heal his wound. Even though he insisted that he was fine, everyone else insisted that he still rest in the medical bay. The bullet wound was gone, but everyone from Nightwing to Starfire—both of whom had since joined the League—to Batman had gone to the tower to ensure that the leader of the Titans was all right.
Damian tolerated the attention, but what really surprised him was that Raven nearly hovered around him. He lost track of the number of times she had asked him how he was feeling.
No, he wasn’t lightheaded or dizzy, yes, he could walk in a straight line, yes, he could recite the alphabet backwards, no, he wasn’t having hallucinations… By day two, he was frustrated and asked her why she was acting like this. “I’m fine,” he insisted, doing his best not to clench his teeth. “I honestly am.”
Raven’s eyes snapped from where he had been shot to meet his. “Well, excuse me for being worried,” she said in her usual monotone.
“It’s not that,” he said curtly. “It’s not like I was going to die…”
In an instant, he watched her look to the ground and shuffle her feet. He stared at her until he remembered…the dream…
“You did die once,” she said softly, “and…it may have been a dream…but…it felt so real…”
Damian’s heart skipped a beat. He hesitantly put his hand on top of hers. She snapped her head towards him. If he remembered correctly, from the dream, she had felt helpless but smiled after he subtly reassured her that it was going to be all right. To his excitement, she looked shocked but then relaxed.
He let the sexual tension between them carry on—he kind of liked that she would avoid eye contact with him—until he changed his mind. Luckily, nothing happened that particular day, so he figured that it would be a nice night to invite her to go on patrol with him. She looked surprised but agreed. She opened a portal to the tallest skyscraper, where they scanned in silence.
“I’m rather flattered that you asked me to go on patrol with you,” she said after only ten minutes.
Part of it was an adrenaline rush, but Damian’s heart was pounding so fast that it made his arm ached. “Well, I felt like tonight was the best night that I could think of,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”
Damian glanced at the clock. There were still two hours left. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s move.”
Raven took his hands and flew him around the city, not paying any particular interest to the decoration on the windows of apartments and a few offices. They stopped a robbery in five minutes and hauled away an abusive husband in twenty. As soon as they dropped him off to the police, Raven flew Damian back to the skyscraper and yawned. “It must feel better when you’re patrolling with someone else, when you’re not alone,” she said.
Damian nodded. “I should go on patrol with you more often,” he said. “It does take longer to do it alone.”
Raven smirked. “Glad to hear that little sourpuss is understanding the value of teamwork.”
Damian narrowed his eyes and hunched over a gargoyle. Raven stayed behind and let the wind push her hood off her head. “You know what’s ironic?” she asked rather sadly.
“What?”
Raven hesitated. “There was that couple we broke up today,” she began, “and…it’s Valentine’s Day…”
Damian’s heart felt as though it was a bomb that suddenly exploded. Did she know? How long had she known what day it was? He leaned back on his heels and pushed himself up. “I know it’s Valentine’s Day,” he said, even though he didn’t understand why people celebrated love on the day of some martyred saint from years ago. He was at her side before she noticed. “That’s why…I invited you on patrol with me.”
Raven’s eyes widen to the point where he was sure they would ache. He cautiously reached forward and wrapped his arm around her waist. Almost immediately, she touched the side of his face, and the beating in his heart increased the closer she came to him until she gave him his first kiss.
It was better than in the dream because he knew that they would have more time, more opportunities to kiss. In that moment, his heart yearned for more of what it felt like to love someone, to experience romantic love, the kind of love that put one at greater risk for heartbreak, the love that his mother and grandfather had discouraged from his life.
He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, and her own wrapped around the back of his neck. They kissed until the clock struck midnight and then resumed patrol, taking down a drug ring and attempted rape within two hours until the sun rose. Raven opened a portal back to the tower so they could rest until the others woke. Outside her room, Damian kissed her again and had no intention of stopping.
***
When Dick and Kory announced their engagement two months later, Damian felt nothing but joy for the annoying older brother and his greatest love. Some, like Donna, saw this as a reminder that everyone was growing up and moving on, but others like Raven saw this as a sign that life was meant to be full of joy and happiness. Few of the Titans suspected that Damian and Raven were making out around the tower or lying on his bed in their downtime, holding hands and smiling but not talking. “Dates” consisted of patrol and swimming in the ocean, combat training and meditation. The closest they had gotten to intimacy was when he took off his turtleneck due to the heat, and she spent so long kissing his chest and shoulders, stroking down his back and arms, and pressing her palms against his neck and abdomen. She really liked the noises he made and the sight of his teeth bared every time she touched a certain spot.
Not surprisingly, he asked her to be his date at Dick and Kory’s wedding. She agreed and pulled him back in for another kiss. Her hand slid under his sweater to feel the softness of his back. A bulge rose against her leg, and she had a tinge of satisfaction for making the former smartass aroused. She sensed it in the manner in which he seized her hip.
In the months leading up to the wedding, Raven could feel the desire growing in him. He had never seen her topless before, so when she allowed him to feel her breasts, she sensed his head ready to explode with…greed, almost. When he found her nipples under her uniform, he wouldn’t stop circling them; the spandex seemed to help with the reactions.
When she was on top, she pulled his turtleneck up to his chest and kissed all over his abdomen. She moved up to his ribs and sternum, arching her back so he could have a nice view of her backside to go with the pecks on his chest. He actually groaned when she kissed down to his pants, but as soon as he felt her caress his belt buckle, the lust came back to him. She was slow to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, and even slower to touch the bulge under his black boxer briefs.
His mouth opened in a silent cry. In that moment, he wanted her to free him. This was too much for even him. She asked with her eyes, and he said yes. She stripped his pants from his legs and pulled forward to remove his sweater. He slid her jacket from her arms and rubbed her bare shoulders.
“Yes,” she whispered, too enthralled to see him lean forward and kiss the tops of her breasts. When it occurred to her, she used her powers to unzip her bustier and let it fall on top of him.
Damian didn’t hesitate to toss it aside and take in the full view of human breasts to himself. He was quick to kiss them, lather his tongue over her nipples, and fondle the glands. She moaned and purred, but he wanted more. One hand stayed on her breast, and the other rode down her abdomen and under her skirt.
Raven threw back her head with a sharp gasp. Damian smirked with her nipple in his mouth and remembered what he had learned from the awkward and uncomfortable video he saw that explained sex and pleasure, and where women were most sensitive. He stroked the hard nub in a circular motion and inched downward to feel her entrance.
She hissed when he pushed in two fingers and clenched around him. Her nipple escaped his lips, and she replaced it with her mouth. Her hand went back to massaging his crotch and outlining his shape.
“You don’t ever have to hide anything from me, you know that, right?” she asked against his lips.
Damian’s hips began to jerk forward, as though he was on the verge of orgasm. She shushed him and guided his hand to keep pleasuring her. “I could do this all day,” he confessed.
“So could I,” she whispered, even though her arm felt like thousands of needles were piercing her flesh.
They kissed and fondled each other until someone cried out for them—Jaime, saying that the League was on call. The birds flushed, and Raven was quick to redress herself into her uniform; Damian was relieved that she used her powers to dress him quickly. Unfortunately, when the two entered the common room at the same time, Raven felt Batman’s eyes on her and his son, as though he knew that the two had just touched each other intimately.
The Titans were quick to stop the attack on Metropolis and overpower the criminals in half the time that it would have taken the League. They didn’t stop for pictures or interviews, though, but chose to return to San Francisco. Back in the safety of the tower, Damian and Raven shook off the adrenaline with a quick swim in the ocean.
Aside from caresses to the thighs and backrubs, Damian and Raven couldn’t bring themselves back to their heated moment. It was easier to wait until they weren’t at risk of interruption again. Even though they still kissed and stroked each other, Raven wouldn’t forget the feeling of his length in her hand. He missed kissing her chest and feeling sparks of electricity under her touch. In the privacy of his own room, he started to dream heavily about sex and what lovemaking would feel like.
***
Dick and Kory got married on the anniversary of when they first met. Damian was happy to be a groomsman to fill in for Speedy, who was unable to make it due to an undercover mission involving some assassin who shared the name of some kind of cheese. Raven was absolutely stunning in violet satin, her hair clipped back and loosely curled. He couldn’t focus on Kory, in her white gown and bun with Dick escorting his bride, because Raven was there and he couldn’t look away. Sometimes she smiled and winked at him, but in that space of a second, Damian just wanted to stomp over and get her out of that church.
The vows and pictures seemed to stretch on longer than Dick and Kory originally planned, and Damian had never before felt so impatient. Luckily, he got to sit beside Raven in the limo and keep his hand on her lower back. They danced at the reception, and Damian had never before laughed so hard. He wasn’t a great dancer, but it was easier with his and Raven’s shoes off, and as long as he looked into her eyes. They wished Dick and Kory all of the best in the world and made babysitting jokes, knowing that the newlyweds hoped to start a family soon.
Even after the happy couple left for their honeymoon, Damian and Raven slow-danced with the other Titans and Leaguers, Raven’s head on his shoulder and his fingertips tracing her spine so slowly that she shivered with goosebumps. He inhaled the scent of her hair and nearly closed his eyes, almost on the verge of falling asleep, when he caught his father’s gaze in his direction. Bruce didn’t look angry or pleased, but Damian suspected that his father’s expression had something to do with the girl in his arms.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered to Raven.
“Okay,” she whispered back. Her voice melted his heart.
Damian reluctantly let go of her and walked past Constantine and Zatanna to Bruce, the former ready for any embarrassing interrogation. He stood up straight and slid his hands into his pockets. “Yes, Father?”
Bruce stared hard at his biological son. “I will only ask this once,” he said in a low voice, “because I am your father and seek only the truth: Are you two being safe?”
Damian knew that he would ask something like that, but it still felt like a punch to the sternum and made his face red. He swallowed. “If it pleases you, Father, we have not gone that far.”
Bruce gave him the famous glare that made even supervillains cold to the bone. Damian crossed his arms. Then Bruce relaxed himself. “I believe you,” he said, “but understand, nevertheless, how important it is to be careful and protect yourself.”
Damian wished that his father was seriously not confronting him about this in a wedding reception, where other people could be listening, but he nevertheless fought the urge to lash out at his billionaire father. “I appreciate your concern, Father,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go back to my…”
He couldn’t finish. Instead, he turned around and went back to Raven, speaking animatedly with Donna. When she saw him, Donna politely excused himself to go back to her sister. Damian worried how much she knew or suspected. Raven, however, still looked pleased to see him and held out her hand. They danced until they were tired, and Raven opened a portal back to the tower.
The couple kissed outside her door until he motioned for her to turn around and unzipped her gown for her. He kissed all over her bare back, thankful that she didn’t wear a bra, and snaked his hands around her abdomen under her gown. Her head fell back against her shoulder, her throat bulging. He kissed up and down her neck and pushed his hands up to cup her erect breasts. She let the straps fall from her shoulders, and an aurora of excitement clouded his mind. He walked behind her into her room and stroked the front of her body until her dress bunched at her waist. Then he took to stroking the waistband of her lace bikini panties and feeling for any sensitive areas. Eventually, the material fell from her body, but before he could go any further, she spun around, kissed him, and tugged on his tie.
She kissed down the side of his neck and took her time removing his tuxedo but spent too long caressing his back. They unbuckled his belt together, and he pulled down his pants by himself. In a bold move, he picked her up, causing her teeth to painfully hit his lip, and carried her to her bed, falling with her. The lace was so sexy on her, but he just wanted to rip it off of her and feel the sensation of sex, of lovemaking. He wanted only her, and he couldn’t think of ever falling in love with someone else. His lips traced the dark line leading down her abdomen, and he kissed the inside of her knees and thighs. There was a good chance that this would lead to sex, and the thought sent his heart pounding in his ears, but he was determined to make love, to make up for their being products of rape.
“Damian,” she gasped with heavily lidded eyes.
In that space of a second, Damian worried that she didn’t want this and was not ready to go that far. The pounding in his ears made it hard for him to listen to what she said at first. “What?”
Her fingertip traced his upper lip. “How far…do you…”
Damian swallowed. “As far as you want it,” he said timidly.
Her hands smoothed down her ribs and abdomen, and touched between his legs. “I don’t know…but I might be…given that I’m hybrid…but to be safe…”
Her fingers lowered to her own crotch. He watched her caress her own groin and abdomen while she muttered something in a language unfamiliar to him. It was lovely. She stopped and reached for him again. “Contraceptive charm,” she explained.
Before Damian could flush in embarrassment and shame that he forgot about his father’s warning, she stroked his length, and he slowly removed his last article of clothing at an angle that would hide him from her. She removed her own herself and bashfully felt herself, hoping she was as ready as her heart.
He put his hand over hers and followed her movements. “Are you nervous?” he whispered.
Raven swallowed and nodded.
Damian grazed his lips over hers and tried not to bite his lip. “If…If I’m…” He became mad at himself for speaking so timidly. “You’ll let me know if I…”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “Just…be gentle…”
Damian kissed her forehead and stroked her soft hair. She looked so different around when aroused and nervous yet excited.
Her hand slid from under his to place on top of his. He grazed over her labia and fingered her clit. They spent twenty minutes exploring that part of her, figuring out what aroused her best. She withered on the bed and panted at certain spots that he didn’t want to pull away from. He found her entrance and slid in two fingers, massaging her interior in small circles.
Eventually, he pulled away and pressed a long kiss to the center of her ribcage. He used two fingers to widen her, even with her legs parted, and closed his eyes. When he pushed against her, she bit her lip and tried to clear her mind. His breathing dried her lips, and then he pushed himself halfway in.
It didn’t hurt as badly as she had feared, but it burned and stung at the same time. She hissed and gripped his shoulders. “Slow,” she winced.
When he finally inched all of himself in, after several seconds of winces and chokes, Damian closed his eyes and relished in the feeling. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Remember…”
He knew what she meant, and he was determined to go slow until she said he could speed up. He shakily kissed her again, taking his time rocking his hips, and closed his eyes.
Pain faded into pleasure the more she concentrated on the feeling of his back and the softness of his hair. He was now too slow. “A little faster,” she encouraged him.
Damian took his time going faster, listening for her grunts of pleasure and holding her folded leg against his hip. When she rocked her hips against his, he pushed himself to meet her needs and picked up the pace.
Raven arched her back and neck, unable to hold on any longer. He roughened her nipple with his thumb and finger, grunting into her shoulder, and hissing in pleasure. He wanted this to be a good, memorable first time for both of them, and he wanted her to feel every possible bit of pleasure.
In that dream, the one that everyone had experienced, they did not have the opportunity to share more than one kiss. This, however, was reality, and Damian did not want reality to go to waste.
Damian slept dreamlessly until someone not him exhaled. When he opened his eyes, he saw her in his arms, her back to him. Flashbacks from the night before came back to him, and he closed his eyes once more. That was no dream, he knew. It was all reality, and he wouldn’t have it in any other way.
***
Within the first year that Damian and Raven were sexually active, Dick and Kory welcomed a healthy baby girl, with her mother’s skin and eyes, and her father’s black hair. Everybody, Titans and Leaguers and independent heroes, gathered to meet the newborn. Damian was incredibly awkward holding Mar’i, who snored in the crook of his arm, but when he looked at her little face, full of innocence, he knew that he would do anything to keep her safe and protect her from harm.
After Raven had her turn cradling Mar’i, she leaned against Damian’s shoulder and stroked the back of his hand. He watched his predecessor lower his baby girl into her crib and kiss the center of her forehead. Damian thought less about the dream that overwhelmed him, but he remembered the vain attempt to bring back his brother and his wish to keep the insane person alive nonetheless. Even that Dick wouldn’t be able to appreciate the joy and toil of fatherhood, which Damian thought might as well be in his own future. Talking to new parents over the sleeping baby made it harder for him to leave and go back to the tower.
Before they kissed all the way to his bed, Raven pulled away and stroked the side of his face. “Are you all right?”
Damian reflected on life since the dream, how Titans came and went, some villains changed sides or lived quiet lives, his relationship with his father improving, his becoming team leader, Dick changed from older-brother figure to devoted father, and especially how his relationship with Raven had progressed much differently than he expected. They still had time together, and whatever direction their relationship went, he didn’t want to look back or think of what could have been.
“I can’t imagine myself being any better,” he said with a kiss to her lips, closing the door behind him. He followed her to the bed as she used her powers to pull him towards the bed into a world that would have no ending.  
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innittowinit · 4 years ago
Text
Abandoned amusement parks are the best place for young children  (chapter 22)
Fic summary:
Techno, Tommy, Wilbur and Phil have been hanging out at the abandoned amusement park in the woods since they moved in. Techno likes knowing he's definitely alone with his brothers Tommy likes climbing on the old rides Wilbur likes having a place to play his music Phil likes spending time with his younger brothers
That is, until a group of brothers calling themselves the 'dream team' move in down the road. Will the sleepy boys give in and share the park or will they succeed in scaring the new kids off?
Chapter summary:
It's wednesday. Eret was still plauging on their mind's and yet they still had to meet up with the Dream Team
Chapter word count: 2123
AO3
Something just.. wasn’t right.
They had shown up invited this time, had made extra sure they weren’t being threatening (he hadn’t even brought his nerf guns!) and had watched multiple videos on how you're supposed to treat your friends and still, the ‘sleepy bois’ were acting like they didn’t want to be here.
Or maybe it was like 2/4 of the brothers who didn't want to be there. Techno and Wilbur were both acting off, very off. For a while, Dream had panicked that this may have been their fault, that he or his brothers may have done something unintentionally horrible enough to completely destroy the only sembilience of trust they had - but the more he watched them, they seemed more sad than angry, more hurt than annoyed.
The first warning sign had been Wilbur snapping at Dream.
===
While watching Techno play some game about farming on his DS, Wilbur sat braiding a section of his hair. Recently he had been trying to learn from both Niki and various youtube tutorials, the action of doing someone’s hair was strangely relaxing and it often left him a little upset at the fact that he had no sisters. What he did have instead was Techno and -in his opinion- Techno’s hair was far prettier than any of the girl’s in their class.
Braiding got hard and confusing but it calmed him down, the repetitive action felt similar to how he felt while clicking on a fidget toy but slower. It kept his hands busy but he had to keep his mind active to make sure he was keeping it aesthetically pleasing, it was really just a nice way to wind down. Plus! Techno liked it too!
The events of earlier that day still plagued his mind. It hurt so incredibly much to try and accept that someone he had trusted so much would betray them so easily. Was Eret ever their friend? Was it a joke from the beginning? Would there ever be anyone who would want to actually be their friend? It sure as hell didn’t feel like it. Everybody would always say they loved them then leave, just like Eret, just like their parents.
Being with his brother helped though, it reminded him that, despite everything, he had three people who were always going to love him and have his back.
Tommy was always going to be chaotically positive. Phil was always going to be strangely parental. Techno was always going to be his best friend.
As much as he believed that blood was thicker than water, the human body couldn’t survive on it’s blood alone, it needed water too. He had his brothers but friends like Niki were unfortunately far too rare.
The comfort of being alone with his brother was quickly cut short as Dream had approached, clad in a green hoodie and a new mask. It looked hand made, like they had paper mached it around a balloon and drew on the face with a sharpie, there were also a couple stickers stuck to it but they were pretty small and looked like they were from shows that Wilbur hadn’t watched. Still though, he looked happier than the last time they saw him (that wasn’t hard to do though, he had his mask this time.)
“Hey guys” The boy had hummed as he sat down near the twins, pulling his knees up on the bench and holding them close to his chest. “Why’re you alone? We were going to play bulldog in the forest if you want to join in”
Wilbur just stared back at him, talking felt like such a hassle right now, he didn’t even want to deal with it. It was just so exhausting.
“Uhm...so you don’t wanna talk.. That’s fine uh” Dream had spluttered out, clearly not expecting such a non-response from Wilbur who was usually the most eloquent one out of the four brothers. “That’s fine, that’s cool. You don’t need to talk if you dont wanna!”
Wilbur almost felt bad. Almost. It was clear that Dream was making an effort, it was clear he was trying his best, if this had been when they first met Dream would have likely made fun of him for not talking but he had learnt from spending so much time with them that sometimes people just didn’t want to talk. As nice as it was to know he was trying to be helpful, Wilbur really just did not want to talk to anyone right now. In all honesty, he didn’t even want to talk to Techno. All he wanted was to sit silently and braid his brother’s hair.
“So uh” Dream cleared his throat, looking to Techno this time when he finally accepted Wilbur wouldn't be communicating with him. “Do you two wanna play bulldog with us? Phil and Tommy are gonna play”
Techno took one look at Wilbur and shook his head. Personally, he wouldn’t mind playing with them, making some new friends might be nice after everything that had just happened but Wilbur was just very clearly not up for talking to anyone.
Sometimes people were upset, sometimes you just needed some time to strop and get out all the negative emotions. Techno wasn’t in any position to tell Wilbur he couldn’t feel the way he felt.
“Oh? Do you want us to wait until you’re finished with your DS? What’re you playin’?”
Shuffling over on the bench, Dream tried to take a peek at the game, seeing Techno tapping quickly on different buttons as his character farmed some crops. It didn’t look too interesting but hey! He had learnt that he shouldn’t insult people for what they enjoy.
“Jesus fucking Christ Dream!” Wilbur finally snapped, pushing the boy away roughly. Maybe he was being a bit short-tempered and mean, maybe they had specifically set up this day so they wouldn’t end up fighting but god dammit Wilbur was upset and he was absolutely ready to make that everybody else's problem.
“Just go away! We don’t want to play your stupid game!”
It was clear that Dream had been a little upset by what Wilbur had said, staggering back a little and getting up from where he had been sitting. Despite the fact that neither boy could see his face they could somehow still read his expression, maybe because he was overly expressive with his body parts to make up for the covered face.
“Oh um.. Okay I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you”
Techno sighed, giving Dream a sympathetic look as if to say sorry and then giving Wilbur a bit of a stern glance, clearly upset with his brother for getting mad like that.
Wilbur didn’t care.
Techno could furrow his brows all he wanted, Wilbur was mad.
=== The second warning was a passing comment made by Wilbur.
This time, the twins had finally decided to join in with the group, it had been right after everyone else had finished playing Bulldog so they were pretty out of breath, meaning all they were doing was sitting around talking.
Tommy was leading the conversation, hopping around and pointing to all his favourite climbing places, every now and then he’d grab someone by the hand and tug them up to show them something. It felt like he really just could not be tired out. Even so, the boy was good at reading people, it wouldn’t be surprising if he was acting extra energetic because he had noticed his big brothers being upset and wanted to give them the chance to pull back from talking if they felt like it. He was young, yes, but out of all four brothers he was probably the one who was best at understanding his own emotions.
“So over there is the big dipper!” He was jumping up and down as he pointed to a large blue drop tower that was partially under the ground. “It goes up super high but then it goes into this big pit! Sometimes I like to climb to the top and sit there!”
Phil’s eyes went wide “Tommy you what?!”
George wasn’t too interested in this explanation of the rides, if he was being honest, he was just sleepy from doing so much exercise after already walking around all day at school. The boy flopped backwards into the dirt, taking off his sunglasses and folding them besides him as he closed his eyes.
It felt nice to just lay in the sun, his brothers teased him a lot for always being so sleepy (it wasn’t uncommon that he would miss appointments or commitments because he hadn’t set an alarm) but it was just so nice and so relaxing to just ignore the outside world for a moment and think. Sometimes he felt like he’d probably be good at meditating but then again his brother’s would absolutely not leave him to chill out long enough for that.
He had been expecting to be either left alone to doze off in the sun, or for one of his brother’s to tug him up and make him stay awake, what he was not expecting was for Wilbur and Techno to join him in laying down.
“The sun is nice today” Techno had mumbled as he closed his eyes, clearly getting a little more comfortable with the boys than he had been previously.
Understandably, George was shocked to hear him talking but he decided that maybe it would help if he didn’t bring attention to it and make it a big deal, he knew Dream was only able to show his face in their house if everyone made sure not to comment on his birthmark, if they did the mask was always brought back out.
“Yeah..it’s nice but it makes me tired.”
Wilbur nodded,George was right a lot of the time; it felt light and warm, unlike the humid air that had caused him to snap earlier. Honestly he felt a little bad about it, he had obviously hurt Dream and he didn’t even apologise. Phil would surely be disappointed in him if he heard about what happened.
“I don't understand why you guys are trying to be our friends” Wilbur confessed, scooching up a little closer to Techno so he could hold his hand. “I understand liking Phil and Tommy but why us? Nobody likes us. Sometimes I wish you would stop trying, I already know how this is gonna end”
Wilbur rubbed at his eyes with his free hand but it wasn’t like the other two could tell since they had their eyes closed thankfully. George wanted to object, to tell them that they did like them and that this wasn’t going to end how he thought it would but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He didn’t know what Wil meant when he said how it would end and it wasn’t like he could just tell them they were wrong about their previous experiences with people. He ended up pondering what he could say for so long that by the time he had a plan laid out in his mind it had been too long to reply and he had already unknowingly made the decision to just stay quiet.
Dream had heard him though. Dream had seen him rubbing at his eyes. Dream had noticed how he held onto Techno before talking about it.
Something was definitely wrong.
===
Eventually Dream decided that enough was enough.
Today was the day when they would finally talk it out, there should be no upset, no turmoil, no arguments, and yet here they were, upset.
At first, he had been tempted to just call them out in front of everyone but under better thought he realised that was most likely a very very bad idea. He wanted to help, not make things worse.
Instead, he just waited for Tommy to drag his brothers and Phil over to the ‘white house’, saying he had to show them around. It seemed like Techno and Wilbur were planning on staying back so really it was the perfect time to talk to them about it.
Once everyone else had left and was out of ear-shot, Dream made his way back over to the boys, absolutely ready to get yelled at again (which really he didn’t mind if it helped Wilbur feel better). This time though, he didn’t sit down; he just stood in front of them and crossed his arms, wanting them to know he was being serious.
“Wilbur. You’re obviously upset, okay? I understand if you’re mad we’re in your park and we’ll leave if you want us to but can you please just talk to us first?”
Wilbur sighed and rested his head on Techno’s shoulder.
Something wasn't right.
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yourlocalauthor · 5 years ago
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Anger Issues- Chapter 1
Pairing: JJ x Reader
Summary: I actually have no idea how to summarize this so if someone could help me that’d be very much appreciated lol
Word Count: 1.6k+
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, drugs, child abuse (highkey wish we had this warning in tv shows), and prolly gonna mention sex at some point, idk that should be it
A/N: Bruh, i had no idea so many people would be interested in this. This was going to go a very different way but I finished OBX again and decided to change it up. Also italics are flashback, enjoy!
Requests are open
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You weren’t an angry person, that’s what you kept telling yourself. But ever since your parents died and you moved to the island with your aunt that’s all you could feel. You were so angry and you weren’t sure why, or at what. You were just angry, angry at the whole situation. Your aunt told you had every right to be, which only pissed you off more. You were looking for a reaction, something to make you feel in control. But when your aunt kept dismissing it, and telling your teachers, counselor, and principals to dismiss it, you couldn’t take it. So what did you do? Trashed your least favorite teacher's classroom. It felt slightly justified when you saw him being a creep during gym. When you were taken to the principal's office, she tried calming down which only enraged you more. You cussed her out and then next thing you knew you had after school detention for two weeks. You felt like you deserved more, but you’d take what you can get. So there you sat Friday afternoon in detention. It was quiet, the small hot room filled with two other people in it. You knew the other two boys, JJ Maybank and John B Routledge. John B was in your history class, and English, and JJ was in your Art, Gym, and Health. JJ also happened to live two houses down from yours. That was about as much as you cared to know. You had heard some of the rumors, specifically about JJ and his dad but you didn’t care. Rumors weren’t something you wanted to partake in, even if your aunt was someone who seemed to love drama. You let out a soft exhale shifting uncomfortably in your seat. One thing about the island that you learned was it was uncomfortably hot. As someone who grew up in the mountains of Colorado, you weren’t exactly used to the sudden new change in weather. Growing up living on the beach like your aunt seemed like a dream, unfortunately eight year old you didn’t factor in the heat. You pulled out your tank top, trying to get it to stop sticking to your skin. You looked over to the teacher who was supposedly meant to be watching the three of you. Of course his lazy ass fell asleep, feet up on the desk. The two boys had also taken note of it, quietly conversing. You tried to make yourself busy, as you listened in but it was no use. It was too hot for you to concentrate. You laid back in your seat, staring at the ceiling trying to get your mind off of the heat.
“Hey you New Girl.”
You lifted your head staring at the pair.
“Yes?”
“We��re about to dip figured it was only fair if we told you.”
“What about Mr. Nixon?”
“By the time he’s up it’ll be late.”
“You coming or not?”
You carefully eyed the blonde who had now just spoken up, he was already out of his seat, John B following.
“Look if you don’t come now, you’ll be stuck here until five pm.”
You looked back at the old man sleeping at the desk, and then at the two boys.
“Fuck it”
You simply said, before piling your things into your bag and standing up. You tugged at your ridden up shorts trying to stop any camel toe from peeking through. The two boys stood there staring at you, until you looked back up.
“What?”
“Nothing New Girl.”
And just like that the two were out of the classroom, you following in pursuit. It was so close to Summer that it didn’t even matter, if you skipped detention. The three of you ran out of the school, John B laughing at whatever joke JJ cracked. All of you continue to run, until you were a good distance from the town.
“Shit New Girl, we didn’t expect you to be so eager to leave the school.”
“You guys do realize I have a name right? And also I was in detention with all of you, not sure why you’d think I wouldn’t want to bounce.”
“I told you she was in there for a reason JJ. Anyway I’m John B, and that’s JJ”
The blonde gave you a goodly looking smile, and you couldn’t help but give one back.
“Y/N”
“Well Y/N, we’re having a kegger at the Boneyard care to help us set up?”
You looked at the two boys weighing the options in your head, you were hot as shit and probably needed to go home otherwise your aunt would probably flip or force you to do some meditation. On the flip side you’d be alone for a couple more hours.
“Sure.”
And just like that they smiled at you, JJ grabbing your hand pulling you along as all three of you began to head to the beach.
That was freshman year. Probably the best summer of your life, it was the summer you learned how to shotgun a can of beer courtesy of one JJ Maybank, you spent your days at the beach your new found group of friends teaching you how to surf which turns out wasn’t as easy as snowboarding,  your nights were either filled with parties, or late night conversations on the beach. It was perfect, absolutely perfect. Then one night while the four of you were sitting around a campfire laughing, passing a joint around and that’s when you realized it. You liked JJ. Like you found him very cute, and maybe you wanted to kiss him. But the whole group dynamic worked so well, you didn’t want to ruin it. So from that night on you set your feelings aside not wanting them to ruin the perfect summer. Somewhere towards the end of the summer Kiara joined the group, or joined it again. You didn’t really know the story, all you knew was they were all friends in the eight grade, and then came freshman year she apparently went full Kook at Kook Academy. But you didn’t care, she was fun and it was nice to have a girl around. The two of you hit it off almost immediately, and those last couple of weeks of summer were even more fun than before. And then came the end of the year party. You remembered helping set up the kegs, and bringing the hundreds of packages of red solo cups. And then at some point you had gotten very drunk, because you didn’t remember much past that. You remembered having your first four cups of beer, and then someone brought out a flask everyone was drinking from and maybe you had a couple sips too many because the last thing you remembered was JJ carrying you out the both of you laughing your asses off. Then you woke up in your bed, with probably the worst hangover you’ve ever had. Later that day when all of you met up, everything was chill except for JJ who was very not chill. He kept staring at you, looking away when you looked back, avoiding talking to you directly. Luckily for you the other two boys hadn’t taken note of it, but Kiara did.
Once everyone left she stayed behind to talk to you, along with helping you do some beach cleaning.
“So what was that all about?”
“What do you mean?”
“You and JJ something seems off between you.”
“Really? Couldn’t tell.”
“Y/N.”
“Look I don’t know.”
“Was it last night.”
“I’m not sure, I blacked out. Last thing I remember was him literally carrying me out, we were so happy and laughing. After that I remember absolutely nothing.”
“Weird… I’m sure it’ll pass, he’s probably in one of his moods.”
“Yeah.”
It didn’t pass. Suddenly you went from being basically best friends with JJ to him barely talking to you. You continued to hang out with everyone, but it kept getting to uncomfortable until eventually you just stopped showing up. You kept talking with everyone, but it just wasn’t the same before. And you were angry, after a summer of managing to not be angry you were very fucking angry. You began acting out again, much to the dismay of your aunt but you didn’t care. You had all those feelings bunched together, and you needed to get them out. You began quite the regular in after school detention, at one point you were also suspended but you made sure that never happened again. You spent less and less time at home, during the day you were at school, or the beach, and then at night you’d chug some cheap energy drink and then go out skating around the beach. It wasn’t a healthy lifestyle, but life was too short to not live on the edge.
Tonight was one of the few nights you were home. Your aunt was on the mainland, for her job. She was a massage therapist or something like that. A couple times a week she had to stay on the mainland for whatever reason. It was a Friday evening, and you were hoping to catch up on some of the sleep you were severely missing. You had set up on the couch, the tv playing some movie you couldn’t care less about. You were more focusing on the small stack of papers in front of you. Despite skipping school and getting in trouble half the time you were smart. A lot of people caught on to that, and before you knew it you had a small business writing essays, doing homework, or whatever assignment people needed done. It helped fuel your caffeine addiction, and you were able to keep yourself alive while your aunt was gone. You had just begun typing up your third essay about the civil rights movement, when you heard a knock on the door...
Tags
@spilledtee @teamnick @sexualparkour​ @yeehaw87
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atxlxs · 3 years ago
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Beyond The Veil: Chapter 11
The infirmary was nice, quiet, and completely boring so Muska was more than glad to be home. Eras had all but dragged her to the car and fretted over her the entire evening. Even making all her favorite foods and giving her space to settle. Eras had always been attentive to small changes in her mood and knew when she just needed to be alone. That didn’t stop her from making sure she had everything she needed before she left Muska to her own devices.
Eras was in the observatory now, probably destressing from the emotional day she had and really, she couldn’t blame her. When Eras had stepped through the infirmary door, Muska could tell she was on edge. She wasn’t entirely sure that Eras had noticed either, however Muska noticed that she had flinched when she saw the bandages on her arms paired with the word ‘burns’. That's when Muska remembered. She had only seen the scars on Eras’s back once and it was only a quick flash. They were Burn scars.
Fuck, no wonder she was so nervous and on edge. That’s why she relaxed when Recovery Girl promised they wouldn’t scar.
She knew what being burned felt like.
...
....
.....
Absolutely not, she was not dealing with this right now. This emotional revelation will be pushed aside for when she wasn’t absolutely decked by Recovery Girls quirk. Maybe she could even sleep tonight.
Surprisingly, she did actually sleep.
By morning, Eras was back to normal, which is still just as concerning as it usually is. Muska was almost positive that there were some heavy negative consequences to that kind of approach to emotional processing. She may not be a therapist, but her dad had been one so she knew, at least, the basics. Plus, who lives for centuries without gaining some kind of mental instability? At some point she was going to convince her to attend therapy, she just has to find a qualified therapist to handle a young adult vampire with years of memories and possible trauma to get through.
For now though? She was going to focus on her coffee, lovingly made with the higher end brand of coffee Eras had express shipped to their house because she’s desperate like that. Eras also chose not to give Tibbles treats for the next week as punishment which caused Muska to carry around headphones to ignore the loud and meowed complaints voiced during the entire discussion.
The calm and quiet atmosphere that had settled in that morning was shattered by the sound of a blender going off and Tibbles flinging himself from the table to the air and back. A grumbled [Bitch] followed right afterwards which caused Muska to cackle at her familiar.
“Smoothie time huh? It has been awhile since you last ate.” Muska mumbled, even over the sound of a loud ass blender she knew Eras could hear her. Her hearing was freakishly good.
The blender stopped and a few moments passed before the scratch of a pulled out chair was followed by the thump of a physical body collapsing in said chair. Looking up from her coffee, Muska cringed a bit at what she saw.
“Yea, I just… I’ve been a bit tired recently.” Eras looked deader than usual. The pale white skin was bordering on translucent a bit and the deep eyebags normally kept at bay were back full force.
Sighing, Muska sent Eras a rather pointed look. She knew her friend refused to fully sleep so instead she relied on the energy boost coffee and blood gives her to keep going. Along with maintaining a vegetative state close to meditation to make up for not sleeping. Eras rarely ever truly slept and whenever she did she was always off the next day. Energized, but also wary. On edge. Probably nightmares but Eras sleeps in the observatory to prevent Muska from hearing anything so she couldn’t confirm.
Eras ignored her stare in favor of sipping on the smoothie in front of her.
Sighing, Muska dropped the conversation. Eras would just clam up if she pressed further.
After getting ready and heading out, taking the train this time, Muska ran into Midoriya and Uraraka on the way to school. They greeted her with sunshine smiles and dragged her into the conversation. When they got to UA and were still conversing, she had almost missed the loud and angry demands made near the gate of UA.
Reporters.
Muska hates crowds with a passion and they brought one to her school.
Safe to say she absolutely hates them now.
Muska sighed and racked her brain for anything that could help in a situation like this. Energy could be manipulated to push them aside but that’d be a public quirk use law infraction. Witch stuff then. The type to be hidden in plain view. Manipulative…..
Muska grabbed her two new friends' arms and led them through the reporters with ease. The crowd moving and melding around them but not actually recognizing. She was using the energy produced by the human body to limit the signals sent to the brain and pushed the thoughts of “not here” and “just another reporter” to prevent them from being recognized.
She heard the soft mumbled “This is so cool…” behind her from Midoriya and she almost lost her control a bit in her surprise. That would’ve been a nightmare.
They managed to get through unscathed and passed by Aizawa-sensei, keeping the reporters back and helping other students through. Present Mic, or Yamada-sensei as he wanted to be called, was there with him whispering about something.
When they reached the classroom, a sigh escaped Muska as she finally relaxed. There weren’t too many other classmates present, probably due to the reporters outside, and those that were there were relatively quiet. Besides Iida, though it looks like he was refraining from speaking just yet, he did give a nod in their direction though so that was possibly Muska’s fault.
She just really hates when people have a strict view on how you're supposed to operate and act, hates being controlled like that.
Muska Bee-lined for her seat and sat down with a thud as she hooked her book bag on the side of the desk. Relaxing into her seat. Midoriya sat in his seat in front of her and Uraraka deposited her bag on her desk before making her way over to continue talking.
“By the way,” Uraraka started, turning to face Muska who was slowly collapsing in on herself for a nap, “I never got to ask but how were you yesterday? I managed to see Mido here before he left the school yesterday so I was able to ask him but you disappeared.”
Muska sat confused for a second before her brain caught up to the attention.
“Ah, my guardian came to the school for the meeting about what happened and she took me home.” She explained.
“Your guardian?” Uraraka and Midoriya echoed before they both shut their mouths with a click, Uraraka jumped in before Mido to stammer out “Ah! sorry that's rude to inquire about!”
Muska just waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.
“It’s fine. My guardian is a friend and a friend of my family. When My parents passed away a long time ago, she took me in.” Which was the truth. Eras had found Muska when she had just joined the veil and had promised to take her in after her parents passed away. It’s just that her parents died of old age and not an ‘accident’.
The two nodded before Uraraka brightened again.
“What are they like?!” She asked, hands waving around as if getting rid of extra energy.
“Her name is Eras, so Viridis Eras. She's nice and a bitch.”
Uraraka sputtered and Midoriya muffled a snort. Iida snapped his head around with wide eyes but didn’t actually snap out an etiquette speech. Instead, he grumbled a bit and headed over. Before she could even glare, Iida bowed.
What?
“I wished to apologize for my actions regarding you the past couple of times! I spoke with my brother and he agreed that your advice was applicable to the way the world truly works and so I shall better myself and that starts with an apology!”
Muska was speechless. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Uraraka and Midoriya smiling knowing smiles towards Iida so they had probably had a word with him outside of school. That didn’t help her though. Iida was very earnest in a way she had never actually seen in a person before holy hell. What kind of childhood do you live to be this engaged all the time?
“Ah, sure, apology accepted?”
The rest of that morning was spent with Muska listening to her two friends and Iida talk about what could be happening today. Though Robocop did manage to complain about her calling Eras a bitch before class started, it wasn’t as heavy as his usual lectures.
Muska just wants normality please and thank you, but based on this morning so far she doubts she’ll receive a normal day. That thought plagued her throughout the class representative vote and her first few educational classes. (Was she getting different paperwork? She was definitely getting different paperwork...) The bell rang and her classmates all started congregating to head to the cafeteria while Muska just sighed and got up from her seat. Today was definitely not going to be normal and though she wanted to be wrong, it was not to be.
She just didn’t expect an alarm to prove her right.
The minute the alarm started blaring in the middle of Lunch, Muska did as any student that's been through American public education does. She kept eating. The rest of her classmates that had sat at her table, Mido Uraraka and Iida (for some reason), had already jumped up and started running towards the glorified mob at the doors. She just finished off her absolute heaven of a meal, Eras should meet this Lunch Rush dude (Midoriya had fanboyed loud enough for her to learn his name) their collective chef skills would crush Gordan Ramsey’s taste buds and have Guy Fieri screaming flavor town.
Vaguely, she heard Iida shouting about something and a cheery ‘PLUS ULTRA’ shout but she paid little attention. Instead, she headed back to class.
She would later come to regret not paying closer attention that afternoon.
If she did? She would have noticed the oil like energy tainting the harmony of the school.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tags:
@baguettehead
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rocksandrobots · 4 years ago
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Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 26 - Temper
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Varian grumbled under his breath as he fiddled with a bunch of wires. He was sitting in his lab at school, trying to get the portal to turn on. The machine had decided not to work at all since his misadventure in the desert.
"Grrr...ow!"
His irritated growl turned to a yelp of pain as he shocked himself. This only drew more curses and angry groans.
He wasn't having a good day.
Heck he wasn't even having a good week. Everything had seemed to go wrong for him ever since he and Hiro had their run in with Momasake on Saturday.
First off, he had just gotten back from his second therapy session this morning and, while it went smoother than the first one had, it still had put him out of sorts for the rest of the day.
Dr. Brown's more reserved and quiet manner suited Varian much better than Dr. Mcguire's cherry earnesty, and he made sure not to delve too much into his past like he had last time. However it still made him feel self conscious to sit on a couch and talk to some stranger about what's bothering him.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being analyzed. Much like the way he would dissect a compound to figure out its chemical makeup, so too did the older gentleman study him; peering over his reading glasses, jotting notes down on his yellow notepad, and every so often, stroking his salt and pepper beard in thought.
They talked mostly about the nightmares Varian had been having and ways to mitigate them; habits he could try to form, like going to bed at a regular time everyday or meditation exercises similar to the ones Andrew and the rest of the Saporians would partake in. Varian wasn't sure how much he'd be able to keep up such practices and he kind of doubted that they would help anyways.
And then there was the discussion on medication, which Varian really wasn't thrilled about. Dr. Brown wanted to put him on a small dosage of some sort of 'mood-stabilizing' medicine as he had called it; which only sent alarm bells off in Varian's brain. The doctor was patient enough to walk Varian through what the drug was made of, how it worked, and to reassure him that it was only temporary.
"As a scientist yourself, you must know the importance of experimentation. You won't know if the medicine will help or not until you've tried it for awhile. That is why I'm starting you off on such a low dosage to test it out first." Dr. Brown encouraged.
Varian understood. He understood far better than either the doctor or anyone else would ever know. The brain ran on chemicals, and chemical potions could very much alter behavior and mood if ingested. The right or wrong chemicals could make ones whole personality change or compel them to do things they didn't want to…. Like tell the truth for instance. Yes, he knew that better than anyone, and it was precisely why he was so uncomfortable with idea.
But still, Varian had reluctantly agreed to give it a try anyways. If nothing else than to avoid a long drawn out argument or a lecture from someone. Though doing so had only increased his anxiety.
The second thing that had upped his discomfort was that Aunt Cass had discovered his firework display yesterday.
Instead of being impressed like he had hoped, she had rounded on him for daring to build what she referred to as a "fire safety hazard." She then called Officer Cruz to come and confiscate his stash of firecrackers and gunpowder.
Apparently one wasn't legally allowed to build explosives in one's home, even if you didn't intend any harm with them. He then had to endure two separate lectures from both of them on safety regulations.
Oh, how he hated lectures.
He just about had his fill of them these past three weeks.
He also just about had his fill of Hiro and his 'holier than thou' act. The other boy hadn't brought up the incident with Momosake's knife again, but Varian could sense tension between them anyways.
Varian didn't know if Hiro suspected the truth of what happened inside the vent or not, but the other boy had kept his distance from Varian for the past couple of days anyways. Keeping their conversations short and going quiet whenever he spotted Varian walk into the room.
Despite this, Varian didn't regret his actions at all from that night. He was only protecting his friends after all and it's not like he harmed anyone else other than their attacker.
He couldn't wrap his head around Hiro's concern for a person who actively threatened both him and people he cared about. Being noble and compassionate was one thing; going out of your way to help someone who only wants to hurt you was another.
But that's what made the two of them different, Varian guessed. It was easy being a hero when you've never had to defend yourself from seamingly the entire world; to fight just to survive.
Ever since his arrest and subsequently moving in with the Hamadas, Varian had only been reminded just how much he didn't belong there; of how much he didn't really fit in. As nice as his friends and Aunt Cass were, they really had no understanding of what he'd been through and he still felt alien to this world and to their beliefs. The run in with Momosake only served to heighten his feeling of inadequacy, as if he somehow fell short of the imaginary standards that everyone else seemingly already knew but he somehow didn't.
He kicked the device in aggravation. No, he wasn't having a good time at all and the sooner he could get back to his father then the better.
He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair as he tried to calm his runaway thoughts. Then he turned back to the console and readied to turn the portal back on, having finished his tweeks to the wiring.
He saw the giant metal ring spark to life as the turbines hummed with power, slowly the blue energy that indicate that the portal was working made its way towards the center, then it crackled, fizzled, and died out as the portal shut itself down.
Varian growled in anger and went to double check the wires again. Nothing off there. He checked the computer. Also okay there.  He even tripled checked the turbine, before trying again.
Nothing.
Varian had had it.
He gave a wordless scream of frustration before knocking his scientific instruments off his desk with a push. He kicked the portal repeatedly and threw anything he could find towards the devious device; yelling curses and venting his rage in angry grunts.
It was petulant perhaps, but Varian didn't care anymore. He was tired. Tired of failing and tired of not being the golden boy like Hiro was. Hiro never got lectures. Hiro never made stuff explode, or flood the whole school, or get trapped in a desert. Hiro never gave in to his darker side. Heck, Varian wasn't even sure he had a darker side.
If the stories were to be believe than Tadashi had been Mr. Perfect and Hiro had followed in his footsteps of being the selfless brave hero. They all had. They were all just so, good and perfect and wonderful, and he..he was broken and he knew it. And the longer he stayed, the more at risk he was of having everyone find out just how broken he truly was.
His angry yells turned to sobs. He didn't know to do with himself anymore. He turned around looking for more things to throw and was greeted by the sight of Honey Lemon and Fred standing in the doorway.
He stopped what he was doing and stood stock still. His face turned beet red and his breath hitched. They were looking on with both shock and alarm and to Varian's horror he realized that had saw everything.
He couldn't stop from bursting into fresh tears as he knew that his friends had gotten yet another look at the cracks in his happy, innocent facade. He crumpled in on himself, plumping down on the ground and hugging his knees to his chest, and then he buried his face in his arms to hide his shame.
"What should we do? Should we get Baymax?" He heard Fred say in a hushed and hurried whispered.
"No, he's with Hiro at his internship, remember?" Honey Lemon whispered back.
"Oh, should we call Gogo then or Wasabi?" Fred suggested instead.
"Umm..I think they're both in class...we're just going to have to help instead." Came Honey Lemon's nervous reply.
"Okay…......how?"
Honey Lemon didn't seem to have an answer for that question and Varian only hugged himself tighter as he feared what their response might be; another lecture, more prying questions into his past, or would they just leave altogether and refuse to have anything to do with him? This last option really scared him and brought more unbidden sobs.
He heard footsteps come closer and felt a gentle hand tentivently touch his shoulder.
"V..Varian?" He heard Honey Lemon ask. She sounded scared. He'd had scared her! Of course he had. Everyone was afraid of him back in Corona. Why should here be any different? He wasn't a hero like his friends, he was the villain and, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, it was what he'd always be.
"Why are you still here?" He sobbed, still not looking up to face them.
"I..I'm sorry. Do, do want us to leave?"
He heard Honey Lemon stammer out this apology and he finally looked up at her in surprise. He searched her eyes in confusion as she continued to apologetically ramble.
"We can go… if you want.. If you think that's best..or..we can stay too. It's up to you..we just want to help.."
Varian cut her off, "No, no, that's not what I meant. I...I just don't why you'd want to stick around...not after...not after.."
He broken down in tears again and he saw Honey Lemon and Fred exchange worried glances.
"We're just worried about you, dude." Fred explained. Honey Lemon nodded in agreement and offered an encouraging smile.
Varian eyed them both warily. "You don't have to be so nice about it. You just saw me wrecking my own lab. I don't want you to feel like your obligated to still hang around just to try and make me feel better."
"Well..if either of us was upset you'd try and help us right? That's just what friends do." Honey Lemon said.
"Oh but, that... that's different. You don't ever get mad."
Honey Lemon pouted, "I...get mad. I just... don't always know how to show it."
She sighed and slumped down next to him, leaning against the wall. "I guess that's not always healthy though."
"Neither is losing you temper and busting up the place." Varian bitterly added. He surveyed the mess around the room. He'd have a lot to clean up once this was over with.
"Weeelll, throwing things isn't...good," she agreed,"but it's okay to be angry if something is bothering you." She reached out and slipped her arms around the crook of his elbow. She then nuzzled her head upon his shoulder while she hugged his arm. "We just need to help you find a better way to express yourself." She cheerfully added, as if this was the easiest and most obvious thing in the world to do.
"Whenever I get in a bad mood, I just give Mole a prank call and that usually makes me feel better." Fred offered up blithely.
Both Honey Lemon and Varian stared at him disquitedly.
"That's..that's also not the best way to handle things." She said frowning.
"Why would you prank call a mole?" Varian asked in confusion. "I mean how would it even have a phone?"
"Not a mole, the Mole." Fred explained exasperatedly. "Richardson Mole; he's my arch nemesis. My greatest rival! The most sneaky and nefarious foe I've ever faced."
"He's the boy who lives next door. They compete over comic book stuff." Honey Lemon clarified to a now even more confused Varian.
"Try 'compete over everything'!" Fred retorted indignantly. "There's no lows to which he wouldn't sink just to show me up." He huffed and plopped down on the floor on front of them.
"Ooookay…..well that wouldn't really work for me," Varian tried to steer the conversation back to solving the current problem, "So, what do you do Honey Lemon? How do you stay so calm all the time?"
"I..don't know if 'staying calm' is the right words for what I do….buuuut, I do love going to a wrestling match now and then; it helps to release tension."
Varian looked at her in surprise. "You wrestle?" On some level he knew that Honey Lemon was a capable fighter, she was a superhero, a modern knight, after all, but it was hard to reconcile the image of the sweet natured girl throwing herself into a tournament ring to slug it out with someone.
"Oh.. Not me, no." Honey Lemon hastily corrected and gave an awkward laugh. "I mean, I wouldn't mind doing it but I'm not a professional, sooo...I just meant I go to watch. It's great fun. No one actually gets hurt and you can be as loud as you want to be." She tugged at a strand of her hair and keep nervously looking back and forth between him and the ground as if admitting some embarrassing truth. "I just like the atmosphere, and it fun to just scream your frustrations out sometimes."
Varian softly laughed, "It's hard picturing you yelling, ever, but it sounds fun. Like those brawl tournaments we have back in Corona. There's a lot of shouting and cheering going on during those too."
She perked up at that."Yeah, exactly like that! Would you wanna come to one? We could all get tickets to the next match!"
"Hey now, waaait a minute." Fred interrupted. "I thought we agreed to boycott the mecha-westling after Mole bought out the league! Please don't tell me you've still been going without me!"
Honey Lemon didn't answer, she just nervously bit her lip as Fred placed his hands on his hips and glared at her in disapproval. He then soon relented and sighed…"Fine, I'll buy us some tickets, but I'm getting us seats to a different league. There's no way I'm giving more money to Mole."
Honey Lemon's face broke out into a huge grin. Happy to have avoided an argument with her friend and even happier to attend her favorite sporting event.
"Well, before I can go anywhere, I need to clean up this mess." Varian sighed. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up, I needed it."
He stood up and started to pick up the broken metal and discarded instruments.
"Oh, we'll help you." Honey Lemon chirped.
"No, you don't have to..it's my mess, I need to be the one to clean it up."
"Yeaah, but if we help it'll go faster and then we can all go get lunch." Fred piped in. "That's why we came by in the first place. It's nearly after one and you haven't left your lab all day. Also you still haven't told us what's bugging you. You've not really been yourself lately."
Varian rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "The portal stopped working. I'm not making any headway and it's been two months now. I guess I'm just worried."
"About your dad?" Honey Lemon interjected.
Varian nodded."Yeah, that and other things. So far I've only managed to create a working spacial portal, not a interdimensional one, and even then I can't figure out how to control where it opens up at."
"Then why not focus on that first?" Fred suggested. Varian looked at him in surprise, so he explained further. "Why not master the spacial stuff, get it where you can pinpoint global places, and then work your way up from there? It's like learning martial arts; you start small before learning more complex moves."  
"It's nothing like martial arts." Varian insisted, "but, that may not be a bad idea." He relented as he ran the possibilities through his mind; mastering more local coordinates could help in figuring out how to reach his own world.
Honey Lemon also stood up and wrapped him in another hug. "You'll figure it out it!I know you will!" She encouraged.
Fred also joined in on the hug before adding, "Yeah, but before then let's get this place cleaned up and go grab a noodle burger. I’m starving."
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