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tagsecretsanta · 3 years ago

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From @such-random-rambler

By and from @such-a-random-rambler to @onereyofstarlight

I tried to combine two prompts, and used both 'A logistical nightmare' and 'Gords and John having a fight/argument of some kind. '

Happy Chrimbo

- - -

International Rescue are experts in all manner of emergency situations, and work as one very well oiled machine. Some situations test them more than others, and none so much as when they have a small window for Christmas preparations, when it’s all hands to the pump.

“I’ve sent you a revised path Scott.” John flicks the hologram off screen in the direction of his brother’s symbol, for him to load up. “It will be at least ten minutes quicker.”

“I thought you were meant to be resting.” Scott’s image appears instantly, a worried frown adding to his generally harried expression.

“I am.”

“You’re sitting at the desk, planning out routes, looks like working to me.”

“If you think this is me working, we have to have a discussion one of these days because I need a pay rise.” John says, wry smile on his lips.

“You don’t get paid.” Scott snaps back, but he’s mollified, and looks a little more relaxed. “How’s the arm? Not straining it?”

“Stop worrying. I can - and am - doing this this with one hand tied behind my back.”

“Fine, be stubborn. Make sure that you’re using the sling though, take pain killers if you need them. I‘ve got to concentrate now, coming up to the tricky bit. Call me if you need anything but see if you can get hold of Gordon will you, he’s not answering and I worry he’s in over his head.”

John gives a little jaunty salute and Scott’s image disappears. John slides his other arm back into his sling because big brothers can be annoyingly right sometimes and cracked collar bones did need support. The ache isn't too bad though, which is just as well because he still has work to do, no matter Scott’s opinion on the matter. His brothers have a lot of skills, can keep their calm in virtually every situation, but everyone has their limits.

With a wave of his non-broken arm John briefly checks in on Virgil, but he’s right on schedule, heading back to the rendezvous point, grocery shop complete. No cause for concern there.

“This is Thunderbird Five to Gordon, come in please. Don’t ignore me like you’re doing to Scott or I’ll re-order your documentary playlist.”

“I’m not ignoring him.” Gordon’s voice crackles in, responding to the threat just as John knew he would.

“That’s not what he said.”

“Well, some of us aren’t superhuman multitaskers and actually need to do one thing at a time.” A flare of static threatens to swallow Gordon’s last words, but John manages to clear it up enough to hear the bite in his tone. “So why don’t you just relax and let the rest of get on with it.”

“You really want me to leave you to it?”

“Go on, put your feet up.” Gordon almost snarls. It might be the stress, or the thumping of his heartbeat echoing in his shoulder, or just that Gordon knows how to provoke him, but John feels his hackles rising.

“You do know that if I had a choice I would be out there with you, right? This isn’t exactly fun for me either.“

“Sure, sure. You wouldn’t at all be hiding up in space.” That was a low blow from Gordon. He doesn’t hide - it’s just that Five is the best place to co-ordinate from, and it sparks the sarcasm in John. “Well, I’m sorry that I fell off a building.”

“You milking the sympathy now? Typical.”

“You want to try sitting in my position? You wouldn’t last an hour.”

“Would be a walk in the park compared to this.” There’s no need to shout to be heard, but they’re both getting louder.

“You learned another four languages while I wasn’t looking?”

“Because translation programmes don’t exist? You just like to know more than anyone else.”

“You’re calling me a show off? That’s rich.”

There’s some sort of dull thud from Gordon’s end, and distant yelling.

“Gordon?” John’s irritation is gone, replaced with concern, arguing forgotten.

“I’m here. It’s. It’s bad out here.” For a moment Gordon sounds like a kid again, and it riles something protective in John’s chest.

“You somewhere safe?”

“For now. I’m only half way done though, and I won’t be able to stay here long.”

“I’ll find you a way.”

John slips his arm out the sling again, he’ll need both arms for this – he'll just need another painkiller later. The tension leaches away and he focuses completely on the task in front of him. The map of the shopping mall springs up in front of him, a flashing yellow dot marking Gordon’s position, tucked in an alcove behind a bank of elevators.

A flick of his lithe fingers and a timer appears, with a ninety-minute countdown. On one side is a list of Gordon’s tasks and he’s about two thirds of the way through. Yes, it’s an advantage to have someone remote overseeing the operation, but John feels a twisting of guilt because if he hadn’t broken a bone three days ago he would be out there with them, and one more set of boots on the ground might make all the difference.

But that’s not what they have.

John scans the mall, accessing the companies record of footfall patterns and overlaying them on the current occupancy of the shops. He sets up a quick program to extrapolate those patterns onto today's data and leaves it running in the background. While that’s working, he highlights the location of Gordon’s last six stops that will complete his list. He’ll need to double back a bit, as one shop closes a lot earlier than the others, and one - listening into the radio comms between shop and warehouse – is going to run out of stock of a few key items very soon. The foot traffic data shows the areas that are less busy, and Gordon will save almost ten minutes by going up two floors and coming back down again.

“I’m sorry.” Gordon clicks back onto the channel, now much calmer. ”I didn’t mean what I said. I know it’s not easy watching and I know I don’t have the focus that you do.” He sounds genuinely contrite, and there is a big difference between Gordon when he thinks he should be sorry and when he genuinely is.

“I’m sorry too, I’m a little snappy today. I’ve got an early Christmas present for you though.”

“You found me a way out of here?” John smiles at the hope in Gordon’s voice.

“Yep. I’m ordering a couple of items ahead for pick up, so you should be able to just walk in. If you get a move on you should be done in an hour, max.” John finishes the order, filing away the order confirmation to be cross checked on the bank balance at the end of the month.

“Did I ever tell you, you were my favourite brother?”

John grins, sending the new route over to Gordon. It only takes a moment for his marker to start moving at a brisk but steady pace. “Only every time you want something.”

“Well, you are. I’d better get going, don’t let Virgil leave without me.”

“As if he’d dare.” John signs off. He resists rolling his shoulders as he usually would after a dispatch in fear of the ass-kicking he’d get if it needed resetting. He does stand and stretch his back though before repositioning his arm in sling and heading off for painkillers and a nap. They’d be back before too long, with the presents to be wrapped, food to be stowed and decorations to put up.

This had been the easy part.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #@such-a-random-rambler

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dreaming-of-brawlstars · 3 years ago

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So, I’m feeling fairly upset at the idea of Colt and Jessie being caught. So I’ve designed to write it. Don’t worry, Jessie didn’t get caught here.

Desc: After barely a day freed, finding someone else against Starr Park, and pulling off a heist for real, Colt decides to try to help Jessie over the radio. However, he finds himself making a lot of promises.

Warnings: Gets angsty at the end. Talk of doubting your senses, unreality, fear.

Colt looked at the radio, swallowing down a lump in his throat.

One chance, they only had one chance.

He really, really wished they didn’t have to do this. All that effort to break out, to get freed from the sleep, to finally have his mind back was for this, but it felt so… terrifying. To get all of that back to possibly be caught and lose it all over again. All to show the world what Starr Park did to people.

He nervously looked at the Starr Hat in his hands. A felt yellow hat with headphones on them. So unassuming, so innocent looking, and yet Colt’s heart was pounding so hard it hurt his chest as well as his head. He gulped hard again. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret anything after doing this. After all, if this went wrong…

The sound of another voice came over the radio, breaking him away from those thoughts. “Everyone in Starr Park! Everyone listening to WKBRL! Please, listen!” Jessie, she must’ve hijacked the signal for this already. Colt took a breath, trying not to feel too uneasy at that thought. “Starr Park is controlling you! They’re forcing you to be happy so they can use you like puppets in their mission for world domination! You all need to stop it now! Stop Starr Park! Stop your happiness! Stop being happy!”

Colt swallowed again. This would work, he knew it wouldn’t work. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. It would either work, or it wouldn’t.

Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for when Jessie would tune the radio to him. He listened to her continue ranting.

“For anyone awake, there’s proof! I have proof! These Starr Hats you’re forced to wear mind control you and erase who you are, turning you into a brawler to be controlled! I can show you, just like I showed the whole world! And if that doesn’t stop Starr Park, then, well, I guess we’ll see.” She sounded scared, unsure. The radio turned, and Colt noticed his microphone crackle. “This is my friend, Colt.” Her voice got stronger, her voice filled with hope and fear mixed together. “He woke up when I interrupted the eight hour reconditioning sleep. He’s free. Say hi.”

“Hi.” Colt greeted, still feeling queasy. Jessie’s voice filled the airwaves.

“Hi, Colt! Tell everyone what happened, what you did, everything!” She sounded excited, eager, and desperate. “Tell me about your life, anything at all. And if that doesn’t stop Starr Park, if this doesn’t wake people, we can figure something out.” She sounded hopeful. “We can do this!”

“Alright.” Colt cleared his throat, sitting down and setting the Starr Hat aside. “I’m Colt. I woke up… a while ago. When J-“ He cut himself off, thinking. He didn’t want Jessie hurt. “…when she interrupted the sleep radio with the - the laughter. The crying.”

He tried to think of something more to say, mentally skimming through memories, trying to will himself through the uncomfortable ones. Go back to when he first woke up.

“I woke up in a bed, wearing a Starr Hat, and I didn’t know who I was.” He swallowed. “She had said that I needed to listen to her. That maybe she could show me what happened. Show me what’d happened. But she needed my help. So I listened.”

A shaky breath, he began to pick at his nails nervously.

“In all honesty, I’m terrified. But that’s not a bad thing, because if you’re feeling happy about Starr Park controlling you and other people, brainwashing them, weaponizing them for world domination, what the heck is wrong with you!? It’s okay to feel horrible about this because you should! This is wrong and Starr Park knows that!” He swallowed, and he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. “And if there’s even a chance that stopping Starr Park will actually make things better, I’m going to try to help as many people as possible! Because I want to. And I don’t care what I have to do! And you should want to fight back! Break free!”

His voice cracked, and his eyes darted to the Starr Hat next to him.

“I’m scared, I’m terrified, but if it’ll help people - I’m willing to be proof of what Starr Park does to people. Because I know what it’s done to me! I remember every second I spent under Starr Park’s control. And if I can take back a little bit of freedom, you can too.”

The radio warped, and he could hear the signal being fought over, struggling. His eyes widened as he heard Jessie panic, hearing her grab something and shake it.

“No, no no no no! No, no, no, no!”

Colt jumped, startled, at the static of the radio. “Hello? Are you alright? Are you hurt? What’s happening?!”

The radio distorted once more before he could hear Jessie again, frantic.

“Sorry… sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m alright. I just… I think they know, I think the voice hears us-“ He could hear her sniffling. “I don’t want to-“

“Hey, hey. You said they could track us. Turn it off. Stop the transmission.” He tried to sound calm, even though he was panicking. He had to stay calm. “Just turn it off, please! We need to go hide! You need to hide!”

“But we’re so close! I can feel it!” She sounded desperate, almost desperate enough to be true. But Colt was sure that wasn’t it.

He let out a shaking breath, letting out his nerves as his mind flashed back to the night he got trapped in that dream. He grit his teeth, trying to not yell.

“You’ll be caught. Turn the radio off, now, before they find you.” He warned her, trying to keep calm.

Jessie let out a small sob, a tear escaping her eye. “Please, Colt.” She pleaded.

Colt closed his eyes, taking another deep breathe.

“I’m going to try, for you, okay? I’ll try to find you, and not get caught,” He said, hoping she’d believe him.

She was silent for a long moment.

“Okay.” She whispered. “Ok. Just promise you won’t get caught?”

“Promise-“

“To all Starr Park residents!” A voice spoke out, and despite how constantly delighted it sounded as usual, anger seemed to carry the words. “Please ignore the words of these mad ramblers. They are clearly suffering from awakenings.” She emphasized ‘suffering’, “They’re scared, they’re feeling negative emotions…”

There was a sinister laugh, almost condescending.

“So clearly you shouldn’t listen to them. They’re insane, they’re paranoid, they worry too much. Stop worrying.” She nearly dropped the tone, and her words became distorted. “I said stop worrying.” Her voice became angry. “Because it’s not good to worry.”

“You’re hurting everyone! You’re controlling everyone!” Jessie exclaimed.

“Stop it, stop it! All of you! STOP IT! You should all be stopped, stop listening to these crazy people and this music station! It’s nothing but a bunch of sad, sad stories! There’s nothing behind it all! It’s all just ranting!” The voice dropped the happy facade, turning enraged. “We’ll fix this, and we’ll fix you. Starting with the runaway, Colt.”

There was another pause and the static returned, replaced by silence once again.

“Don’t worry, listeners.” The radio voice changed to calm again, and the static seemed to return, but the pitch of the voice was lower, and the volume turned louder. “Your beloved radio station will be fixing this interruption very soon. As for anyone who may have been rudely awakened, Please Stop. Please Stop is the only hourly pill perfectly engineered to quell awakenings. Just one pill an hour keeps all these disruptions where they belong; elsewhere. Awaken no more with Please Stop. Please, just Stop.”

She laughed, the chuckle echoing through the airwaves as the static started to return in the background. The radio fell silent once more, and for a few seconds, both the speakers and the equipment remained silent. The radio buzzed and the speakers gave a slight whine before settling again into silence.

Colt took a deep breath, and sighed, putting his head in his hands.

“That went well.” He muttered. “That went really well.”

Silence. Jessie must’ve turned off their frequency or something so they wouldn’t be tracked. He worried for her, worried that she was scared and alone. He hoped she wasn’t being tracked. Or captured.

It was hard to tell what was real, reality anymore. Or if he was even making sense.

“So.” He looked over at the radio, seeing it hadn’t picked up on any more transmissions. So there was probably no harm in talking to himself for a while. “What do I say?” He glanced back at the radio, staring. “What do I say.” He repeated, quieter this time. He ran his fingers over the worn edges of the band around his wrist, picking at it. “I don’t really care what happens to me. If I survived this for - how many years? - I’m sure I can handle if I got caught again.”

He bit his lip.

“But you’re just a kid, Jessie.” He breathed, still looking at the radio. “Are you’re taking on everything, fighting against Starr Park, saving the world, when you should be in school doing your best in class and making friends and hanging out and studying. Aren’t you worried? About getting caught? When’s the last time you’ve eaten or slept?”

He leaned back in his chair, signing, looking back on the few memories he had outside of Starr Park. Outside of the dream. It wasn’t much, it wasn’t pleasant either. What he did know was that he didn’t have much - or anything - to go back to.

Jessie had her whole life. And her mom, who was missing, but Colt promised he’d find her. He had been making a lot of promises, lately. He was beginning to worry if he could keep them. It’d hurt Jessie more than it’d hurt him if he couldn’t follow through.

“I’m really sorry if - if I do something wrong. If I make the wrong move, if I slip - if something happens to me. Or if anything happens to you.” Colt leaned forwards again, putting his head in his hands. “I’d feel horrible-“

The radio started again.

“Can you feel joy all around you? Can you see it?” Colt flinched at the radio speaking. The guy didn’t sound angry, just… happy. Which Colt was getting tired of hearing. “Turn around! Joy should be standing right there.”

Colt scoffed, rolling his eyes, unaware of footsteps as he groaned.

“If joy is not hovering in your personal space, ask a Starr Park Joy Enforcer for immediate assistance.” Colt reached to turn off the radio, then hesitated, his eyes briefly glancing to the side before touching the knob to turn it off. “Now, this advice is for everyone, but I hope someone in particular takes this to heart.”

Colt felt an arm wrap around his neck and a hand over his mouth before he could cry out. He barely even processed what had just happened when he felt himself pulled back, out of his chair, knocking it over. He struggled, kicking and trying to loosen their grip with his hands, even biting the hand over his mouth.

He could feel his heart racing in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his body as the fear of his situation hit him full force. He didn’t know what was happening, why he was being taken, or where they were taking him to. Just that he was going to lose everything again. He barely even had a day. It was like he never found his way to this place to begin with.

Jessie.

Oh god, where was Jessie? Where was she? Was she hurt or captured or dead? Or maybe worse-

His heart pounded loudly in his ears as his struggles grew desperate, but it seemed the person holding him back had a death grip on him. They dragged him out of the room as Colt cried out, kicking, struggling and screaming.

No, no, no, no-!!

He tried to claw at the arm holding him down, kicking and scratching at the face that was holding him hostage. His vision was blurry, his brain fuzzy with panic and his lungs burned for oxygen. Everything around him felt heavy and slow, like he was underwater.

This was not good. This was definitely bad.

“You are drowning in joy.” The radio continued as if it didn’t hear him, but it was fully aware of what was happening right now. “You are swimming in delight. You are singing songs you cannot remember. You are smiling. Smile. Look.”

He could barely see anything, the room was already dark but he could tell that it was worse than before. When did his mind start getting so fuzzy? Where was his vision coming from? Was there water inside the room? He tried to breathe normally, to try and calm his heart down, to take deep breaths. He wanted to scream out but his throat felt parched and dry.

Why couldn’t he see?

Everything was dark, everything felt thick, everything felt heavy. He felt tired.

“When you go to sleep.” The radio continued. “Close those beautiful green eyes you love so dearly, and you will smile. Be happy. Be free. Be loved. Be at peace. Be at home.”

He could barely even feel the ground beneath him anymore. Could barely hear himself breathing. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much. Too much.

“Be at peace.” The radio spoke again. “Be at home. Be at Starr Park, the place you’ll never want to leave.”

Colt barely felt the person let him go, and he unceremoniously collapsed in a heap. His entire body ached from exertion, pain, exhaustion, fear. He felt drained, exhausted, dizzy, confused. His throat hurt, his lungs burned, his legs felt weak. His lungs burned - did he breathe in something?

As his vision faded out, Colt saw the person approach the desk, grabbing the felt hat with headphones by the radio. Colt closed his eyes, knowing what was going to happen to him, and listening to the radio for the last time.

Whatever it was.

He didn’t want to watch.

#[free qwen’s dreams]#brawl stars #colt #handsome colt #jessie #THE NEXT WRITING WILL BE LESS SAD I SWEAR

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stones-x-bones · 4 years ago

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Classic Blunder || Ben and Bex

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @professorbcampbell and @inbextween SUMMARY: Ben finds Bex reading alone in the hallway and decides she’s quite a remarkable find. CONTENT: Brief Domestic Abuse mention

Being back at school was a strange feeling. Bex was eager to be back, she did love learning after all, but the strangeness of it came from sitting through hour long lectures about modern law and criminal justice systems, because despite trying to convince herself that she could still do this, she really didn’t want to be doing this. There was a meager acceptance as she sulked through her mandatory classes of the day, only to give herself the gifts of her electives-- A Timeline Of History Before Humans and, of course, Professor Beck’s class, Our Monsters, Ourselves: Recognizing the Other in Speculative Literature-- after them. She always came away feeling refreshed from them, especially now more so that she was living at Morgan’s. Going home to a place that didn’t feel...suffocating was nicer than Bex had ever imagined. But, that still left a lingering fear in her-- because, ultimately, she’d have to go home one day. And it was probably going to have to be someday soon. So perhaps the strangeness was more a feeling of bittersweet, because despite the bruises now fading on her skin, and the cuts closing up, the things that brought her joy also reminded her of the fact that they would not last. They simply could not.

Morgan’s class had ended a while ago, but Bex still lingered in the hallway. She was reading one of the books she’d borrowed from Morgan’s library, about Ancient History and how the stories of the past influence modern literature. There was only one bench in the hallway and she’d curled up on it, letting the masses of students wander by, not paying much attention to them and they paid little attention to her. But she remained even after the halls had cleared and more classes had started, lost in her book. She didn’t even notice the footsteps in the hallway, or the man approaching her.

Shutting his attache case with a final sigh, Ben stood up from his desk and shut the door to his office. It had been a long day of grading, office hours, and a department meeting, but it was worth it in the end. Making the right appearances, maintaining a good work flow, ensuring that his end of semester feedback responses were just where they needed to be-- it was all a balancing act. And it was an act he excelled at. Locking the door behind him, Ben made his way through the winding hallways of his building towards the exit. As he made his way through the halls, his forehead creased as caught sight of a young woman lost in a book. “I hope you don’t have a class to be going to,” Ben commented loudly, slowing to a halt in front of the girl. “Not that I’d tell on you-- this isn’t high school, after all.” He said with a conspiratorial grin. “What are you reading?”

Bex nearly jumped out of her skin when the man spoke, snapping her book shut out of reflex. She looked up at him, trying to shake off the jitters that had suddenly crawled into her hands. “O-oh, no! I don’t! I just got out of class, I pro--” she stopped herself mid sentence and shook her head, “I just got done with my last class of the day, I just like, you know, the atmosphere here sometimes cause it gets real quiet and there’s usually no one around in the halls, so reading is easy, but I--” she needed to take a breath, to calm down-- “sorry. Sometimes I talk a lot when I get nervous. Not that I’m nervous! You just kind of...caught me off guard.” But he didn’t seem too perturbed by her frantic rambling and he looked like one of the nicer professors, unlike most of the ones who had permanent furrows in their brows. She looked down at the book in her hands. “Oh, um…” held it up to him, “it’s something Professor Beck lent to me. A-about the history of storytelling and how it influences modern literature and media. Do you, um, know her? Professor Beck? Are you in the lit department, too?”

Slipping his hand into the pocket of his trousers, Ben listened to her ramble with a patient smile on his face. She was one of those students. The anxious, over-eager, not yet self-assured children. Ripe for the picking. And his little gatherings, they were long overdue for a fresh face, for fresh blood. “I was only joking, I’m sorry for making you nervous.” He said with a laugh and apologetic shrug that he didn’t mean. “Or rather-- not nervous.” Ben corrected himself. Watching as she held up the book, his eyes flicked across the cover. It seemed… exactly like the kind of drivel Bitchy Fucking Beck would have in her personal collection. Modern literature and media-- what sort of study was that? Were her students analyzing movies? Or, he shuddered to think, TikToks? Disgusting. But, his expression remained politely intrigued, “Ah yes, Morgan and I are well acquainted. And no, I’m not a member of the literature department, but we work within the same college. I’m a professor of the Classics and not,” Ben let out a wry chuckle, “Literary classics. I teach Greek and Roman classics. I’m sure your book includes some references to the old mythologies and tales from back then.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay! Really! It was mostly my fault. I’m really bad at paying attention, sometimes. Especially when I’m reading a book.” Bex gave her best attempt at a reassuring smile, finding that innate part of her that needed to please adults surfacing again. She perked up a bit when he mentioned knowing Professor Beck. “You are? She’s great, don’t you think? I mean, I’m kind of struggling in her class, but it’s because I’m really bad at creative writing and critical analysis of literature, but I enjoy it! It’s interesting and I like learning new things.” She watched him eye the book before setting it down in her lap again, fiddling with the cover. “Oh, you teach the classics? That’s so cool. I’ve always been interested in studying them academically. I’ve read a lot of books on them-- like, a lot-- but I’ve never taken a class for it! And um, it sort of does, obviously! Story-telling was often used as the only means to pass on history and culture and it was such a large part of both the Greek’s and Roman’s society. I know it’s kind of typical, for people to enjoy Greek mythology, but there’s a reason it’s so popular. But, um, I don’t really have to tell you that, do I?” She chewed her lip anxiously. “Sorry, uh-- I’m Bexley, by the way.” Stood up, holding her hand out. “Professional rambler.”

“Nothing wrong with getting lost in a good book,” Ben said with a nod, “I’m guilty of that particular crime myself.” Among other, actual crimes. But, that was neither here nor there. Watching the way her eyes seemed to light up at the mention of Beck, Ben offered a reassuring smile. She was one of these foolish children who preferred fiction to fact, hm? But, as the girl continued to speak, perhaps, he thought, not. “Ah, regardless of performance, the pursuit of knowledge is a wonderful thing. That’s why we’re all here, right?” He said. Listening patiently as the girl’s words took on a meandering, if anxious, quality, Ben regarded her with a practiced eye. She was young, she hardly looked old enough to order a drink. There was a nervous anxiety that practically bubbled over from within her-- he could see it in the way she played with her book, how she bit her lip, the skittish way she moved. Interesting, very interesting. “Oh no, I’m always happy to hear what fellow lovers of the classics have to say.” He said and shook her hand firmly, a broad smile on his face. “Ben Campbell. Professional Rambler of the Classics. If you ever have the misfortune of attending one of my classes, I can assure you, I have you beat in the rambling department.”

“Oh, do you like reading books, too? What kind? Do you have your own library? Professor Beck has a huge library at her place. She lets me pick whatever I want to read.” Bex gave the professor a genuine grin as he took her hand to shake. He had a firm grip, and she remembered all the times her father told her a man could be judged by how firm his handshake was. She still didn’t understand what that meant. “I’m trying my best, and, really, that’s all I can do right now, right?” Even if that fact still made her feel poorly. She hoped her inability to keep the waver from her voice wasn’t a dead giveaway. She shook it off and readjusted. “Nice to meet you, Professor Campbell! And, well, I mean-- who wouldn’t ramble about the Classics? There’s a lot to say about them, and a lot to, you know-- know.” She wasn’t sure she was making too much sense anymore, but the lack of sleep was getting to her. She really needed to sleep. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around the empty hallway. “Have you taught here long? This is my first year at UMWC so I don’t know a lot of the professors. Or a lot of the staff. Or...students.” She knew Mina, and she knew some of the weird kids in Morgan’s class, and she knew Frank. But that was about it. She really needed more friends. “Sorry! If I’m keeping you, you can go. You probably don’t wanna be stuck talking to some awkward student who’s not even in your class.”

With an amused smile, Ben replied, “Yes, I do. I have a rather large collection of books at my home, as well as in my office. Most of the ones I keep here are related to my classes, but my personal library at home is a bit more diverse. Still, I’m rapidly running out of room in my collection. A pretty common struggle for your average bookworm, I suppose.” He said with a chuckle. “Of course! And I’m sure your professors understand that. What are you majoring, if you don’t mind me asking?” He asked. She knew Beck-- quite closely too, it seemed. But, she’d also said she wasn’t the creative sort. Hm. So how did she know her? “It’s nice to meet as well, Bexley.” He beamed. “I’ve taught here for the past ten years. First as an adjunct but I’m now an associate. Though I doubt you wanted to know that-- suffice to say, I’ve been here for some time. How are you finding your classes? I’m always interested in hearing what students think of the matriculation process.” He said before waving off her concern. “Ah, no, I’m done for the day. Like I said. I value what our student body has to say about the university.”

Bex’s eyes lit up at his words. “You have a library here?” she couldn’t help but ask, not thinking much of it, really. She wanted to see it. Books were her only escape for the longest time. It sounded stupid and cliche, but when you were locked up in a room for most of your life, adventure was where you made it. In hallways, in blanket forts, in books under the bed. She couldn’t help the curious glow in her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I totally get that. Most of the books I have at home are stuffed in my closet, but my dad’s library is pretty big. Though, he really only has law texts and old books on, like, world wars and stuff. I never understood the appeal of them, but I guess some people just like different things. I, uh-- I’m majoring in law. Well, pre-law, but, you know.” She shrugged. “Ten years? Wow, that’s a really long time. You must know this place well.” She wondered if he knew about all the hidden secrets White Crest had. He seemed so normal. But, then again, she seemed normal, too, didn’t she? Sometimes? “Oh, no worries! I don’t mind! Tell me whatever you want, I’ve been told I’m a good listener and I never mind learning more about people. But, uh-- classes are fine! They’re-- I was out for a bit, cause I was um...sick,” she scratched at the back of her neck, “but I’m catching back up, I think. It’s nice to know a lot of the professors here care so much about the students. Penn State felt very...different.” And yet she missed it. Missed the freedom. “That’s where I transferred from. I actually grew up here, but I don’t ever really feel like I did, since my parents sent me to private school.” And there she went, oversharing again. She bit her lip. “Sorry, that was probably more information than you wanted from someone who’s not even in your class.”

“Library is a strong word to describe my office, it’s just a wall with some shelves. But, it’s rather comprehensive, if I do say so myself.” Ben said with faux modesty. Always better to play the bashful professor than to yammer on about how much time and money and effort he had put into his collection. Particularly the money. There were first editions in his collection that librarians dreamed of. “I can’t say I understand the interest in the world wars either, but again. I’m a professor of antiquity. Anything beyond 6th century AD is too new for my tastes. It’s a wonder I can even use a smartphone.” He smiled at his own little joke. “Pre-law, that’s got quite the courseload. How are you finding it compared to Penn state?” He asked, shifting his weight so he could stand more comfortably, his body language relaxed and open as he listened to her ramble. “No, no, it’s quite alright. I grew up in town as well, but I went to college elsewhere, so I can understand that sentiment.”

“Wow,” Bex breathed, “I’m a bit jealous. I think it’s my dream one day to just have an entire room full of books. I...guess that’s really just a library, but they wouldn’t even need to be shelved. Stacks on stacks would be nice. I would shelve the nice ones, though. I’m not a heathen, I take care of my books!” In a way, Professor Campbell almost reminded Bex of Morgan. Less wiccan, though, and more scholarly. “Oh, really? What’s your favorite period? And, well, smartphones can be confusing, but really they’re just small computers. If you ever need help, I can probably show you. I had to show someone else recently how to use her smart phone cause she couldn’t figure out how to change the background wallpaper.” She swallowed, nodding maybe a little too eagerly. “Yeah, yep-- heavy course load. Lots of reading and citing and making sure everything is exactly word for word. My whole family is lawyers and they’ve all got degrees from Harvard, so you’d think it’d come naturally to me, but I guess I didn’t get the right genes. I’m trying my best, though, you know? And UMWC is...smaller than Penn, but I guess it feels...cozier? I liked the freedom I had at Penn state, but it was really high pressure. A lot of the kids in my program here just seem really bored, though. This isn’t a top school for pre-law so you have to get really high scores in order to even think about getting into Yale or Harvard or Princeton, so I think a lot of them are resigned to just going to second rate grad schools. Where’d you go to college?”

“Sounds like the dream of a fellow scholar,” Ben said, voice kind and understanding. She seemed young, impressionable. Eager to learn, eager to please. Interesting. How very interesting. “I’ve gone through the stacks of books phase myself, I know how that is. But, having shelves just really ties a room together. There’s nothing quite like seeing all the spines laid out, the titles staring back at you. It’s a wonderful thing.” He said with a nod. “I’m quite a fan of the first century of the Roman Empire. Marcus Aurelius, his works still hold to this day.” At the girl’s offer, he let out a small laugh, though internally he wanted to roll his eyes. He wasn’t inept. “I appreciate the gesture, but I think I’ll be fine. Thank you for the offer, though!” He said. As she continued to speak-- on and on, about her family, about her inane observations of what the campuses were like-- Ben continued to mentally measure and weigh her. This Bexley girl, she was new to the university, still trying to find her footing. She didn’t know many people, students or staff, she’d admitted that herself. She seemed as though she was struggling with that critical jump that all students experienced when they entered college. And who was he to withhold aid from a student in need? “Ah, I went to Princeton actually. For both undergrad and my doctorate. But, UMWC is still an upstanding school-- it’s no Ivy League, but I can assure you, faculty here are providing just as rigorous of an academic experience.”

“Well, I mean, that would be nice,” Bex sighed, “I don’t think I’d mind teaching all too much, but I’ve already got my future career all planned out.” Not that she was all too excited about it, and she was more than sure that it was getting harder and harder for her to hide that fact. SHe laughed it off and gave a smile. “I can’t wait to have my own library, it really does sound like a dream come true.” Her eyes perked up. “Oh, that’s a good one! The rise of the Roman Empire really is one of the most incredible things to read about. I’ve always wanted to go to Rome and see the remains of the old empire. Have you been?” She smiled up at him again, shifting in her spot. :Ah, right, of course. I just kinda-- like to offer to help. I like feeling like I can help, you know? And, wow, Princeton! That’s a pretty prestigious school. I think my parents really want me to go to Harvard. Did you like Princeton? And yeah, totally! I-I know this school is pretty great and there are a lot of wonderful professors, it just usually helps being at an Ivy League if you wanna get in somewhere like Harvard. Or Princeton. So I’ll just have to, you know, try harder. Which is fine! I can do that.” And hopefully not run herself too ragged in the process.

“As cliche as it is, I can’t help but quote John Lennon-- Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” Ben said, shamelessly using the quote. It was very “motivational poster-esque” but it resonated in students, for one reason or another. “So who’s to say what the future holds? I never thought I’d be a professor either, but I fell in love with academics during my undergraduate degree. Once I figured out that I wanted to teach the coming generations, who all shared my passion? I never looked back.” He replied. “Oh yes, I spent the third year of my doctoral program across Europe, assisting in archeological digs. I must say, I was jealous when I heard they uncovered the tomb of Romulus last February. I would have given anything to see that.” Ben let out a sigh and gave a shrug. As she continued on, babbling away, Ben was beginning to put together a nice little picture of her life. Overbearing parents, who wanted her to be something that-- well, he couldn’t quite tell if she wanted to be that. But, there was a hesitation to her that seemed quite promising. “I enjoyed my experience there quite a bit-- the environment, my peers, the professors… All of them were incredibly influential on my professional journey. And I owe my success to the university.” He smiled, though it faded as she mentioned trying harder. Eyebrows knitting together, he replied, “You know, rest is a very critical part of growth. It never hurts to take a break from time to time.”

Bex felt her immediate reaction bubbling up her throat-- John Lennon was such a problematic man, but of course a white cis man would think his quotes were profound-- but she swallowed it back down, smiling sweetly. “Sometimes cliche is true, though. They’re cliche for a reason, right?” She didn’t like the implication of it, though. Was she so transparent? That she didn’t want the life her parents had laid out for her? She rubbed her arm absently. “I know that, though. That I should stop and enjoy life. But what I want is kind of irrelevant. My family has been lawyers for centuries and every daughter has always taken over the business. So even if I don’t wanna do that, I don’t really have a choice.” But her grievance was immediately dismissed. “Wait-- you’ve been on digs? Like real, actual, digs!? Where you found stuff and you got to-- you got to see it first hand? Which digs? Where were they? What did you find? Oh, god, I nearly cried when they found Romulus’ tomb! What an amazing discovery! Can you even imagine being there for that? Or the new tomb they found in the Valley of King’s? It always feels like we’ve discovered so much, but then we just keep finding more and it’s amazing.” She couldn’t help the sparkle in her eye or the shine in her voice-- this was her true passion and the worst part about being a lawyer was that it made it impossible to chase. “Wow, Princeton sounds amazing. I haven’t done a campus visit yet, but I’ve heard good things about Harvard. If I make it in.” She withdrew a little at that. “I-- I know. And I did! Take a break. Sort of. It was an unintended break, but a break all the same.” If being in a nightmarish dreamscape counted as a break.

“Indeed.” Ben said affably, eyes still analyzing her every move. The way she shifted in place, the way she rubbed her arm, the way her smile seemed a fraction less genuine than it had before. It seemed she wasn’t one for John Lennon. Suited him just fine, the Beatles were vastly overrated and John Lennon was a musician, what bearing did he have on anything that mattered? “I’m just a professor, so… please, you don’t need to take this to heart. But, life is meant to be lived, is it not? And what’s more important to life than choice? The freedom to live as you please and to live without wondering how things might have been different, it’s incredibly important.” He said with a firm nod before easing back slightly, his eyes losing some of their intensity. It seemed as though his mention of his field work had piqued her interest though, which was something else he made note of. If they met again-- and he would make a point of meeting her again-- he would have to bring that up. “I did. Truly incredible, the discovery they made there was absolutely groundbreaking. Literally, given how the dig went.” Ben joked. “History is absolutely like that. Just when we think we know it all, our ancestors surprise us.” Glancing down at his watch, Ben raised his eyebrows, as though startled by how much time had passed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you. It’s not everyday I meet such a remarkable student like yourself, though.” Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew one of his cards and handed it to Bex. “If you’re ever interested in talking more-- about archeology or the Ivy Leagues, please feel free to contact me. I also have office hours on Thursday and Fridays, my door is open to you.” He said with a bright, toothy smile.

Bex went still when he started explaining. It was the same things Morgan always told her, that her choice mattered, her wants mattered-- but it wasn’t as easy as all that. She had duties, she had responsibilities. Leaving that life just wasn’t an option. Her parents had made sure to drill that into her from a young age. This was her life, this would always be her life. She had no choice. Her eyes sank to the floor, she no longer felt brave enough to look him in the eye, even as he described his incredible experience of being part of a dig, being a part of history itself. It should have made her heart flutter to hear about it, but something inside of her told her to stop letting herself believe that one day she might get to have something like that, too. She nodded slowly. “No, it’s fine! You didn’t keep me,” she said, trying to keep the smile plastered to her face as she glanced up enough to take the card he was offering her. She stared at the neatly typed words pressed onto the paper. Benjamin Campbell. Professor of the Classics. His information was included below the title. “Remarkable?” she repeated, unsure if she’d heard that word right. “But I’m not even--” in any of his classes. But as she looked at him, she knew the offer was genuine. Her smile came a little easier this time. “Thank you. Really. For-- for this.” She pocketed the card. “It was really great to meet you, Professor. I’ll um-- I’ll see you around. I usually tend to read here most days so, you know.” She chewed her lip before grabbing her bag. “Thanks. A-again.” She needed to stop saying thanks, Mina would kill her if she knew. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.” And then with that, she scurried off, the business card, and a million questions, burning a hole in her pocket. She couldn’t wait to talk to him again-- maybe things really weren’t as bad as they felt. Maybe she could have a good life here.

#chatzy #chatzy: ben #wickedswriting #classic blunder #ben #domestic abuse mention tw #//the mention is in the very first paragraph if people wanna skip

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punninglyswift · 5 years ago

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I could stay.

Every album has come at the perfect time in my life when I needed it most and because of that the albums make me remember those times, maybe just in flashes, but even if it’s a not so great flashback, I look back on it with happiness and that I genuinely believe is thanks to you, @taylorswift

Since I was a sophomore in high school when Red came out I think I really can explain what I said above for the past 3 albums more clearly...but it goes for debut through Speak Now as well. Let’s do each album, shall we?

Taylor Swift - the album had been released a bit by the time I heard songs from it. I was performing in my school’s talent show and this meant 2 performances because my very catholic elementary school made us audition to see if what we were doing was appropriate and to plan out the order I guess. I was playing classical piano, which I’ve done since I was 3. There was a girl named Carly who was 2 years older than me and she was auditioning with a song I’d never heard. It was called Our Song and it was catchy as HELL. (My fifth grade self knew what was UP) She sounded great too, so she got into the talent show but rumor had it they didn’t want the word “kiss” in a song that was to be performed (remember the “very catholic” part? Yup.) - so I heard another catchy as hell song but this time it was one where my mind AND my heart went, “wow....that’s how I feel about life” and it’s still accurate to the way I feel about that PERFECT song today: that song was A Place in this World. I was going into middle school. Middle school, high school...we can all agree we see their problems...bullying is unfortunately real. With your self titled debut album I finally had songs I discovered on my own, nothing against the music my brothers always played for me (Coldplay, Green Day, the Foo Fighters, The Lonely Island - yes I’m on a BOAT, motherf****** I’m sorry I get really into it) - I had anthems thanks to you, I also thought HARD about love cause even at that age I crushed on guys a lot but all in my head because boys are weird. Still are. Onto Fearless....

Fearless. Soon after the talent show, I mean a year or two, my mom got me Fearless after a piano jury. I flipped through the lyric booklet. It was like reading a prize winning book. (Ayyy Grammys foreshadowing) and the SONGS...I was in middle school. 7th grade I believe...and guys would play stupid but hurtful pranks on me and I had a great group of friends but the hurt definitely got to me...but I had an album telling me that yeah sure- “they might be bigger, but we’re faster and never scared..you can walk away, say we don’t need this; but something in your eyes says we can beat this”. I had an album that gave me a song my mom and i smile so big during cause without my mom and without our little mom & daughter trips downtown (dc) or to New York in the holidays, or just taking a walk or browsing in random stores, I don’t know where I’d be but I know my happiness wouldn’t exist. I again had anthems as well as slower songs that taught me about love. And little did I know Fifteen would be THAT song I needed for the high school journey that was growing closer and closer.

Speak Now. That powerful fairytale of an album written entirely only by you, Taylor. I was about to enter high school - an all girls high school. Also around this time I started watching SNL every week thanks to your time as host AND musical guest during the Fearless era and watching that show is a favorite Saturday night activity now. I used to (i still kinda do this) have to convince myself whatever feelings i felt re: mainly crushes were valid instead of just thinking they were. I always thought I was being irrational. I’d think up scenarios in my mind of spilling the feelings and having it go perfectly. Those scenarios never happened in real life. I guess I told myself I wasn’t good enough for whoever I liked to like me back. Unfortunately that mindset still exists...I tend to go, well this kind of guy would never...and it hurts. And I’m hurting myself by doing that. So Speak Now was the epitome of you, Taylor, being the person who can perfectly illustrate whatever feelings we all have, but using your own examples. I’d need TED talks on feelings and owning your heart and Speak Now was that 24/7 TED talk. Especially with Enchanted. “The words I held back” there are so many words I want to say to honestly every guy I’ve had an actual crush on. (I specify “actual” because one of the first crushes I had turned out to be a douchebag! Fun!!!) and then again with Mean, that helped me and still does when I encounter bullies. I encountered bullies (and cyberbullies! FUN!!) in middle & high school a LOT. But I did grow to be “big enough so they can’t hit me” - I’m still quite short, but you get my point. And Never Grow Up was again a reality check for me growing up, and the lyrics were so real that sometimes I couldn’t listen to it when it came on shuffle or on the CD because sometimes you can’t deal with that reality. But it’s a favorite song and I’m forever grateful it exists. Long Live is the song that is a full on letter to the friends and family members who have helped me grow and become who I am and weren’t temporary and didn’t make me feel bad about myself. They all have crowns in my opinion. (Lover - Out August 23) Speak Now was also the first TOUR of yours I attended and I remember being speechless seeing you rise out of the stage. And hearing your voice telling me “I don’t think you should wait, I think you should speak Now” - truly those words are the reason I have in the past several years told guys how I’ve felt. It’s never worked out but telling them lifted weights off my shoulders and it’s never been a negative experience. Seeing that tour live in all its theatrical, magical goodness made me the happiest person ever.

Red. I have a weirdly clear memory of driving to target with a friend after school let out in 2012 to buy a copy of Red before rehearsals started for Hairspray, the show we were doing that fall. I didn’t have a way to listen to it at school yet so I just kinda held it and stared at it. True story. To me, Red was the Speak Now that dealt with bullies and was better for it and came out stronger than ever. Red again was like wow does Taylor know exactly what I’m feeling? It wasn’t even a QUESTION. I Almost Do - again with the speaking now. And the line in Treacherous - “I can’t decide if it’s a choice, getting swept away” is everything I feel all the time SWEPT into a BEAUTIFUL SENTENCE. And with your words since the very first album I’ve felt like wow she seems like my best friend. And it’s beautiful.

1989. While it goes for every album, this was the first time I remember having a lightbulb moment of holy crap I needed this album at this moment as a 17 year old driving to college with my mom. At least..i heard Shake It Off while attempting to listen to the livestream on my phone. That’s kinda what college is, or what it can be - shaking it off, a new you but the same you. Literally though - you shaped that beautiful album around finding yourself when you didn’t have to necessarily in love in a big city. My city was Chicago, but the sentiments are the same. (Go ramblers!!!) It was tough, adapting to a big school and making all new friends - and I didn’t really have an actual group of friends until sophomore year. Now I can’t get rid of them and that’s the best thing, I love em with my whole heart. 1989 still helped me be like oh these feelings are valid, and like “god I’ve felt that way more than once...thank goodness for Taylor” - referencing specifically I Wish You Would - cause I didn’t have in depth conversations about anything like that with anyone. 1989 gave me dancy, positive, self confident vibes and I rode that positivity train through college.

reputation. Speaking of riding a positivity train through college...there were low points along that journey. reputation came in 2017, during my senior year of college. Going out into the “real world”. The year before was 2016 - a year that gave me unforgettable study abroad experiences and honestly helped me grow so much in happiness and in general - I actually spent that summer canvassing and phone banking for Hillary Clinton, I was so fired up. That fire went out for a brief, heartbreaking moment in November 2016. I cried all night, and then each night after that for 3 days; sometimes calling my mom and grandma, sometimes just remembering how hopeful I was. And how far it felt like we had to go. The fire came back, and I was angry but empowered. Cue senior year. I was taking all the classes I loved and writing kickass papers about political violence as well as the amazing book Gabriel by Georges Sand which challenges gender norms, and I felt ready but also not ready for whatever was next after graduation come May 2018. November 2017, réputation came into our lives. Like 1989, it was a well rounded story I needed to propel me through whatever came next, but different...I knew I needed to have more of a “take no shit” attitude and rep really helped me with that. Hell, I definitely credit listening to I Did Something Bad on my way to a morning class with helping me be brave enough to raise my hand because I KNEW what I had to say and I KNEW it was good enough and I just HAD TO be BRAVE enough to say it. “I’m doing better than I ever was...” = same way I felt and honestly that’s in a large part thanks to you.

So now I’m not in school anymore, I graduated in May 2018, and I’m still trying to find a place in this world. I live with some of my best friends in Chicago, I’m trying to work on a campaign soon, currently working retail at a crafty store, and when I don’t think I’m going anywhere I remember that I have to own who I am and embrace my creativity and my passions - and take the occasional break to help plan my friend’s 23rd birthday party which has themed everything so gotta get to work on that. And Lover? There’s NO doubt in my mind it will be any different in terms of coming at the perfect time in my life. And I know this: it’ll be magical. Thank you Taylor. Sorry this is an actual essay, I love you always.

- Isabelle

@taylorswift

#lover #the archer #you need to calm down #1989 #taylor swift #fearless #reputation #speak now #red

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bronzeflower · 5 years ago

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Small Talk-Coin

Also on ao3

Day 4: Opportunity/Chance/Risk

-----

~Caffeine, small talk

Wait out the plastic weather

Mmhmm, uh uh, discussing current events~

Hizashi sat across from an extraordinarily hot man that asked him on a date to a coffee shop. Hizashi could hardly believe it, especially given how stand-offish the man was when Hizashi first started talking to him.

"It's pretty rainy out, isn't it?" Hizashi said, feeling the sweat on his palms as he took a sip of the coffee he got, and that's when the floodgates opened. "You know, Earth isn't the only planet to have rain. Well, it's pretty much the only planet that actually rains water-water is pretty much exclusive to Earth, unless you count the frozen water on planets like Venus and Mars. There's also frozen water on the moons of planets, but that's pretty much exclusive to moons near the gas giant planets. Actually, both Neptune and Uranus are said to have water-though it's apparently supercritical, which I think basically means that it flows, like, really, really fast. But, yeah, rain-you know it rains diamonds on both Neptune and Saturn? And then Venus rains sulfuric acid. Oh! You know how Jupiter's Great Red Spot is because of a giant storm? Well, there's something similar on Saturn called the Great White Spot, which is the area of a huge storm that has so much lightning that the area looks white from space. Actually, the planets in general have a lot of storms. But, you know, weather doesn't just happen on the main planets-it also happens on moons, like Saturn's moon, Titan? It rains methane there, to the point where it actually heavily mimics the water cycle here on Earth, and..."

It then dawned on Hizashi that he was probably talking way, way too much. He paused and looked towards his date-Shouta, who was staring attentively at Hizashi.

"Uh..." Hizashi found that he was much too embarrassed to keep rambling on about the weather in outer space.

"Aren't you an English teacher?" Shouta asked.

"Oh! Yeah! I am," Hizashi grinned sheepishly. "But I talk a lot with some of the other teachers, and the Astronomy teacher, Mx. Thirteen, has been rambling about the weather on other planets and moons lately-I think they’re mostly just trying to get their lesson plan together, and they feel a lot more confident about it when they've hashed out the information to someone who doesn't really know anything about what they're talking about. I honestly can get that-it's pretty difficult to make sure that the material you give is going to be understood. It just so happens that I've retained some of the information regarding his lesson plans, so I guess it's kind of been of the brain lately.”

~I'll take my time

I'm not the forward thinker

You read my mind

Better to leave it unsaid

Why can't I leave it unsaid?~

Shouta managed to ask out the incredibly attractive teacher who was his co-worker and who taught his son. While Shouta was somewhat resistant to do so, Hitoshi insisted, citing that he couldn't stand the two ogling each other every time they saw each other.

Shouta found a coffee shop to be a simple, nice first date that they could go on to actually talk to each other outside of a work environment, and Shouta was starting to get the suspicion that Hizashi had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous.

Now, Shouta didn't really have any problem with the amount Hizashi was talking. In fact, it was very soothing to listen to-Hizashi had a very nice voice.

What Shouta did have a problem with is that he didn't want Hizashi to be so nervous on this date. It was supposed to be causal, nice, and low-pressure, and Hizashi looked like he was in a place that was excruciatingly formal, terrible, and high-pressure.

It was the exact opposite of the atmosphere Shouta had wanted for their date.

But how to get Hizashi to relax?

~You know I talk too much

Honey, come put your lips on mine and shut me up

We could blame it all on human nature

Stay cool, it's just a kiss

Oh, why you gotta be so talkative?

I talk too much, we talk too much~

"Ah, but I'm sure there's some stuff you want to talk about too," Hizashi interrupted his own train of thought after realizing that he was probably talking about himself a little too much. "You teach history and government, right?"

"Yeah, I do," Shouta answered.

"What's it like teaching that?" Hizashi questioned. "English has a tendency to be pretty subjective, especially when we're analyzing English literature in the more advanced courses. I guess history and government is a bit more concrete, yeah?"

"People often think that, but history and government are often more subjective than most might think," Shouta started, practically going into teacher mode. "In history, we have to use documents and stories and artifacts to tell us what happened. It's simple enough to talk about history that was ten or twenty years ago because nowadays we tend to write things down. It gets a bit muddier when it comes to thousands of years ago, where the only records we have are things that were left. However, even written history often has a bias, which can call into question the validity of a source, but, if it's the only source available to us, it can be difficult to eliminate that bias. There's also the issue of what events occurred to lead to other events. It's not always easy to tell what caused what, and there's always going to be more than one reason for an event happening. And we have similar problems with government and learning about how the government functions. There's a difference between how it's meant to function and how it actually functions. I often find that government is less a class about how the government works and more about how to participate in politics in a well-educated manner."

Now it was Shouta's turn to become embarrassed by how much he spoke. He looked down at his coffee cup.

"...Sorry, I don't usually talk that much."

~You know my type

Tightrope across the table

Mmhmm, uh huh

I can't keep holding my breath~

"No, no! It's fine. I did ask about it, after all," Hizashi grinned. Shouta might also be a nervous rambler, huh. "I can't say that I know too much about history or government other than the basics, not that I didn't pay attention in class, it's just been so long since I learned it that most of the details are kind of fuzzy. And, from what you say, it seems like the curriculum is different nowadays, so, even if I did remember everything from those classes, I'm not sure how much of the information is accurate anymore."

"Well, some things stay the same," Shouta admitted. "At this point, it's mostly going to be more minor details that we've corrected. And then, at least in the classes I teach, there's more of an emphasis on critical thinking skills and getting the students to form their own opinions about things. They're at that age where they're starting to actually think more about their political views, and I want them to come to rational decisions about what they believe in instead of simply parroting their parents.

"English is kind of similar in that regard," Hizashi responded. "At least the English literature course, and the other literature courses, as well. They're meant to teach students to analyze words. In those classes, they learn how to find the bias, the reason behind the bias, and how that bias can affect the way a piece of literature is read. So, in a way, it's teaching the kids to find bias in news articles and think critically about the way the information is presented."

~New wave, no time

Red velvet under pressure

Blah blah, green eyes

I never leave it unsaid

Why can't I leave it unsaid?~

Holy shit, Shouta was pretty sure he was in love.

"That's always a useful skill in this day and age," Shouta said without really thinking, his thoughts suddenly drifting elsewhere. Hizashi, almost sensing the drift in conversation, changed the subject completely.

"I guess we might be talking about work a bit too much. It kind of seems a little silly to go out to coffee so that we can talk outside of work and then talk about nothing except work, right? There's some kind of irony in that, I know. I could talk about some music I recently found! I don't know really know what your tastes in music are, but I've been listening to a band called Coin, and-"

Hizashi voice really was soothing. It was nice to listen to, like wind chimes on the front porch. Shouta knows he should probably be paying actual attention to what Hizashi is saying, but he's started to get lost in those emerald eyes, and Shouta is sorely tempted to kiss him.

~You know I talk too much

Honey, come put your lips on mine and shut me up

We could blame it all on human nature

Stay cool, it's just a kiss

Oh, why you gotta be so talkative?

I talk too much, we talk too much~

Would that be okay? They are on a date-it's not necessarily completely out of the question, but Shouta wondered if he would be overstepping his boundaries somewhat.

Or were kisses more reserved for when Shouta walked Hizashi back to his apartment as a goodbye?

Shouta barely registered saying something in response to Hizashi. He wasn't quite sure what he was saying, but he was pretty sure that they were words.

~Silence is golden, and you've got my hopes up

We talk too much

No hesitation, what are we waiting for?

We talk too much~

Eventually, the date ended, and Shouta did indeed walk Hizashi back to his apartment.

Hizashi started rambling again, clearly out of nervousness, which honestly didn’t weigh too well on Shouta’s conscious.

So Shouta did what he wanted to do for pretty much the whole date and kissed Hizashi.

~You know I talk too much (too much)

Honey, come put your lips on mine

And shut me up (shut me up)

We could blame it all on human nature

Stay cool, it's just a kiss

Oh, why you gotta be so talkative?

I talk too much, we talk too much~

Hizashi leaned back into the kiss, and, when they parted, they were both somewhat dazed.

At least they didn’t feel nervous anymore.

#erasermic #eraserhead #erasermic week 2019 #present mic #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi

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bookishwanderlusttt · 6 years ago

Text

Could You Be My Valentine? Ch 2

Adrien realized that the handwriting of a valentine he received looked similar to the handwriting of one of his close friends. He decides to ask and see what happens.

Post-Stormy Weather 2 because I had to fix that end.

Also available on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

As Marinette walked home from Adrien’s house, she had a smile on her face and a bit more of a skip to her step. She wished that she could have personally given him the notes, but she was more than happy to help him in any way that she could. Most people would see this as a way to cozy up to Adrien or a way to get him to notice her (and yes, that could possibly be true), but for her it was her way of being a good friend and a way to let him know that he could rely on her.

She was more than happy to not only help him, but help Alya and Nino too. She knew that they liked spending time with each other and when she saw a way to help all of her friends by doing something simple, she was happy to do it for them. How could she not?

She valued their friendship more than anything. She would be lying if she said that she didn’t dream about having something more than friendship with Adrien however. She wanted nothing more than for him to sweep her off her feet and tell her that she was the one that he loved. She still hoped that one day that dream would become a reality, but she would rather be his friend than nothing at all. She knew that Adrien cared for her and that he valued her friendship and just that thought made her the happiest person in the world.

When she got home, she walked in the front door, the little bell above ringing as she walked in. She kissed her mother on the cheek and stole a cookie from her father before making her way on up the stairs to her bedroom. She put her backpack on her chaise and sat down with the cookie in hand. She split it, giving one half to Tikki who flew out of her purse and floated beside Marinette as the two shared the treat.

“That was a very nice thing for you to do for your friends today, Marinette,” Tikki said, beaming at her charge. Tikki never once doubted that Marinette was the perfect Ladybug. Sure she made mistakes sometimes and her temper got the best of her, but to Tikki, that wasn’t what made a person perfect. Even though she, as Marinette, didn’t have her own “Miraculous Ladybug” cleansing charm, she never failed to set things right and Tikki had always admired her for that. Adrien wasn’t joking when he called her their “everyday Ladybug”. Marinette didn’t need the costume to be Ladybug. Ladybug was just Marinette and she was Marinette in everything she did.

“Well, I was happy to do it. Alya and Nino have had plans to work on their homework together today all week and I wasn’t doing anything today, so it really wasn’t any problem,” Marinette said, standing up from the chaise, “Speaking of which, since I have plenty of time on my hands, I can get started on a new project.”

“What are you gonna be working on?” Tikki asked, following Marinette over to her sewing machine.

“There is a dress I’ve been wanting to make for a while now, I just haven’t had the time to do it.”

“Which one?” Tikki asked her and Marinette pulled out her sketchbook to show her. She flipped through the pages until she landed on one with a rough sketch.

“This one,” Marinette said. It was the beginnings of a dress that had been rattling about her mind for a while now and she had just begun to sketch it out. Tikki saw that it looked to be a short, cocktail dress for a dance. It was a one shoulder dress that came down to just above the knee in a full skirt. “It’s just a first draft and there are some things that I’m still not sure about or that need to be added, but it’s a start, right?”

“I’m sure it will be amazing, Marinette!” Tikki said as Marinette got out her pencils and got to work.

Next day…

Marinette walked what would normally be a rushed run to school. She had actually managed to get ready and out the door at a decent time—well, decent for her at least—and made it to school without having to panic. She walked through the open door of Collège Françoise Dupont and made her way into the locker room to put away her things.

Adrien was still in there at his locker when she walked in. He looked up at her and she gave him a smile and a wave as she made her way on over.

“Hey, Marinette,” Adrien said, looking over to her, “Thank you so much for the notes. I really appreciate it.”

As she opened up her locker, she looked back to him and said, “Oh, yeah, sure, no problem. I was happy to do it.” She put her backpack in and got out the things she would need for Ms. Bustier’s class today. Once she had everything, she closed the door and started making her way out.

Before she passed Adrien, he said, “Hey, Marinette? Do you have a moment?”

She wasn’t really expecting that and like with any unexpected conversations with Adrien, her body’s natural response was to freak out a bit. She had been getting better, but when she was caught off guard, she regressed into panic mode. “Um, yeah, what is it?” she asked as her fingers started to twiddle together.

He turned back to his locker before pulling something out that she thought she would never see again. She froze in place when she saw he held her valentine to him from last Valentine’s day. She didn’t move as he said, “So, I was looking at the notes you gave me and I realized that the handwriting seemed familiar. I got this valentine in the mail last Valentine’s Day and it wasn’t signed.”

She felt her cheeks go red as she remembered that, yes, she had indeed not signed it and that she wished that she had never sent it in the first place. Her mind started spiraling as she thought of the situation past Marinette had forced her current self into and she hated it. Adrien was going to think that she was so lame and their relationship would be ruined and he would never want to be with her and they would never get married and have their three kids or their hamster named—“I’m sorry. I just thought that I would ask,” he said, pulling her out of her thoughts and then he did something that she had never seen him do before.

“I mean I’ve been wondering who it was from and the two handwritings looked the same and I don’t want to make things weird between us for asking because I would hate if things got weird between us. I mean you are one of my best friends and—,” she stopped him before he could finish. She had never seen him…ramble before and it was adorable. He was always so poised, so sure of himself that seeing him blush and talk like her was odd. Not a bad odd, of course not, but it was a side of him that she had never seen before.

She grabbed his arm and said, “Adrien.” His eyes that had traveled down to the floor popped back up to look in hers. She started to smile a little bit as she joked, “I thought that between the two of us I was supposed to be the rambler.”

He stared at her for a couple of seconds as if he was surprised that she had made a joke. She supposed that she hadn’t really joked around with him very much. But, he busted in to laughter and it sounded so much like the first time she had heard him laugh. Of course, it was because an umbrella closed on her head, but it was one of the best sounds that she had ever heard.

He looked back down at her valentine that he held in his hand and asked, “So, I guess it wasn’t you then?” Her body tensed up when he asked that. She had forgotten about the valentine. She also thought she heard a bit of disappointment in his voice, but no, that couldn’t be right. She pulled her hand off of his arm and started twiddling her fingers together again as she stumbled, “um, well, you see. I don’t know, um,” and then she stopped.

What was she doing? This was the second time that he had asked her—albeit not directly—if she had a crush on him. She certainly failed the first time along with all the other times that she had the opportunity to tell him. Her mind briefly flashed to the note that she wrote out to him and how determined she was to finally tell him. (She refused to think of what she actually gave him). So, scrounging up as much determination that she could muster, she finally looked him in the eyes and told him the truth.

“It was me,” she said and immediately the determination rushed away. Oh god, she screwed this up didn’t she. She should have just said no, they could have laughed about it, and then been on their way. Well, there was no taking those words back now.

He was quiet for a bit too long and she was sure that he was thinking of ways to let her down and tell her that he wasn’t interested. It was getting to be too much and she turned to walk away, but before she could take a step, he grabbed her arm and said, “Wait!” She turned around to face him and she saw him read every emotion and thought across her face. “You were the one who answered my poem,” he said, and she nodded and looked down at her feet.

She needed to get out of here, she needed to go, but instead she heard him say, “Thank you,” he said and she snapped her head up to look at him, “I mean, this, um, it really made me happy when I got it, and I’m glad it was you who wrote it.”

She was shocked, utterly shocked. That was certainly not the response that she thought she was going to get. Not at all. She was coherent enough to register the blush that crawled upon his beautiful face as he held his arm out for her and asked, “Would you mind walking with me to class?”

She stared at him a couple moments longer trying to bring together her scrambled thoughts to form actual words. The love of her life wasn’t running for the hills or laughing at her (not that she ever thought that he would, but you know). He was actually holding his arm out for her to escort her to class. Not just walking to class at the same time, but to escort her.

She quickly pulled herself out of her trance before he decided to revoke the offer and leave without her and said, “Yeah, um, I would like that very much.”

He smiled at her as she grabbed his arm and they both walked from the locker room together. This was certainly not how she was planning for the day to go, but this was definitely the best moment of her life. She saw him still smiling down at her and she gave him a smile as well as she saw something flicker in his eyes. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she didn’t care. She was holding Adrien Agreste’s arm and she felt like she could take on the world.

#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrien x marinette #ladynoir

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ride-a-dolan · 7 years ago

Text

‘Half a Heart’ Part 2/ Ethan Dolan Imagine

A/N: Sorry I had to split this into 2 parts, Tumblr is acting stupid 😒

It was half past two and you still hadn’t decided what you wanted to wear. You didn’t want to look like you were trying hard, but you also didn’t want to look like you weren’t trying at all. You were simultaneously filled with excitement and dread to see him live and in color for the first time in six weeks. To put it in laymen’s terms, you were nervous as all hell. You decided upon a simple red and black long-sleeved shirt along with skinny jeans. ”That should be good enough,“ you thought, then set off to meet Ethan.

Forty five minutes later and twenty minutes late, you finally arrived. From your car, you noticed Ethan pacing by the river where he had, what looked to be, a picnic set up. You took a few moments to calm your mind before getting out and locking your car. As you made your way over to him, he stopped pacing in favor of watching your every move with an unreadable expression on his face. "Y/N,” he breathed out as you approached him, still not giving any visible sign of how he was feeling.

“Hey, Ethan. So sorry. I got caught up and lost track of time then there was a bit of traffic. Sorry I’m late,” you rushed out.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he admitted, relief finally flooding his face as he came to terms with the fact that you were there. After a month and a half you were finally there, with him, looking just as if not more beautiful than ever. His lips quirked into a lopsided grin as he took in your appearance: your flushed cheeks, windblown hair, meticulously picked out outfit that said ‘i’m trying not to let you see how hard i’m trying.’ You’d explained it to him numerous times whilst you were dating, but he wouldn’t dare point it out. Everything had to be perfect today. This was his second chance; he simply could not mess it up.

“Well I did ask you to meet me. It’d be pretty cruel if I stood you up."

There was an awkward silence for a few moments before Ethan cleared his throat and asked, "Uh, would it be alright if, um, could I… could I hug you?"

You looked up at him and bit your lip, thinking about his inquiry but decided against it. You needed to actually talk to him before his touches could screw with your head. "I think it’d be best if we didn’t now."

He tucked his bottom lip into his teeth and bowed his head, obviously disappointed but rebounded quickly and gestured to the picnic he had set up. "Uh, I didn’t know if you were, like, still on your fruit and veggie kick or not, so I, um, I brought some salad and, like, fruit in a bowl and then I also got some sandwiches. And, I didn’t know if you wanted soda or tea or lemonade or water, so I brought all of them, and yeah."

He was such a rambler. On top of that, he talked slow and always added extra phrases. It was incredibly endearing and annoying at the same time. You smiled at him politely. "Sounds lovely. Thank you, and I’ll have tea please,” you responded, sitting down at the table. You grabbed at one of the containers of salad and dressing and began eating. You weren’t quite ready to dive straight into the conversation. You expected Ethan to follow suit but instead he watched you as you ate. “What?"

"Huh?”

“Why are you staring at me?"

"I wanted to make sure the salad was good.”

“Dude, it’s literally lettuce and chopped up vegetables. I’m not sure there’s a way you can screw this up,” you replied sardonically. You came off as a bit harsh, but he was being ridiculous. You noticed the disappointment and embarrassment flash across his face, so you extended your hand across the table and placed it atop his. It was the first form of physical contact you two shared in almost two months and both of you jumped back at the electric sensation that pricked each other’s skin. You lost your train of thought for a few moments. Apparently Ethan did too as you both had your gazes focused on your hands. You shook it off after a few moments, though, in favor of continuing what you were about to say. “Hey, look, I’m, uh, I’m sorry if I came off as rude. I didn’t mean to be it’s just that you’re being really nervous and awkward and not Ethan. Like, I’m not here to slit your throat and dump your body into the river. We’re just talking. Sure it’s a high risk conversation, but don’t be so nervous because then I’ll be nervous and can we not?"

He looked up from you two’s hands and nodded. "In fact, since we’ve already got the ball rolling why don’t we just skip the formalities and talk?"

"But, what about the food?” He wasn’t really concerned about the food. He just wanted to be in your presence for as long as possible.

“If it goes well, we can eat after and actually be able to enjoy the food. If not, then we probably won’t have much of an appetite anyway.” You closed the container you had been eating out of and pushed it aside.

Ethan took the liberty of clearing his throat and starting first. "Well, uh, I just want to start by saying I’m sorry. That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done and I regret it so much. Just tell me what I have to do to make it better."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. An apology is not what you wanted, no. You wanted an explanation. Okay that was a little bit of a lie. You did want an apology but more so a how and a why. "I understand that, but I just- it has haunted me these past few weeks as to how and why this happened. We were happy weren’t we Ethan?” you said with a hint of a reminiscent smile on your face.

“Yeah.”

“So, why? Why did you do this to me?” you asked with desperation laced into your voice.

“I- I don’t know,” he stuttered out.

“Don’t play stupid with me. That won’t get us anywhere,” you fired back.

He sighed. “Look, y/n I was high. It was a stupid mistake, but I was high."

"So you think that justifies what you did?”

“I never said that. I’m not making excuses, but you said you wanted an explanation and that’s it. I was on some pill which impaired my judgement which led to me… doing you know what."

You were slightly taken aback. Six freaking weeks and that was all he had to tell you. "Anything else?"

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“I want you to try harder, Ethan. How about a real explanation?” You were getting angry at his seemingly indifference towards the situation and your feelings. “You’ve been out and high with your friends before. Why was this time any different from the ones you didn’t cheat on me?” You could see how hard he was wracking his brain for answers that would somehow appease you.

“I was sort of lonely, I guess,” he began, choosing his words cautiously. That was pathetic in your eyes, but you wanted to see where he would take this. “I’d just gotten back from Australia and you were so busy studying that you didn’t have any time for me. Either you were studying or sleeping."

"Oh, well excuse me for having a life beyond you. I couldn’t just drop my world to attend to your needs. Besides, how lonely do you think I am when you’re on vacation? Or making videos? Or when you go back home without me? That’s not a valid excuse, Dolan!”

“I know that! Okay? I know that. I already told you that I’m not making excuses for what I did. I know it was wrong. I just want to know how I can make it better, but I don’t see that happening with you sitting here scolding me like I’m some kid in school."

Your jaw dropped. "Well maybe I wouldn’t have to do that if you didn’t come here with just an apology. You’re telling me sorry as if that’s going to make anything better. That is the equivalent of using glue to patch a roof. The only reason I even called is because your brother and James and Bryant came over and told me how pathetic you were without me. How you were walking around like a lost little boy with just one shoe."

“They did not say that."

"Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t."

"You’re acting like a child. I don’t even know why we’re here if all you’re gonna do is insult me."

"Neither do I,” you said grabbing your purse and standing up. This was not how you wanted this to go.

“God, Y/N, please don’t go. I’m trying. I really am trying. But, dammit will you just tell me what the hell you want from me!”

You turned around, facing him once again, with tears welling up in your eyes. “I want you to feel all the pain I felt. I want you to suffer. I want you down on your knees begging for mercy. That’s what I want,” you said through gritted teeth.

“You think you’re the only one that’s hurt by this? Life without you has been pure hell. There has not been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t regretted sleeping with that girl, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you back,” he knelt down and grabbed your hands, “I’m even down on my knees for you.” You didn’t know what to do or say so you remained quiet staring down at him. He sighed and stood up. “I know that I messed up really badly, but if we’re going to have any chance I’m going to need you to forgive me."

You let out a shaky breath and said, "I’m not sure if I’m one hundred percent ready to do that."

"I don’t want to lose you,” he said barely above a whisper and on the verge of tears, playing with your fingers.

Truth was you didn’t want to lose him either, but you also weren’t willing to just act like he never cheated on you. “How about we start over?” you suggested.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I just want you to know that I’m rooting for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You want me back?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m rooting for ya. I’m on your side.”

That signature dimple that is almost always imprinted on his cheek made its first appearance of the evening. “Where do you think is a good starting place?” he asked.

“Ummm… with flowers. Flowers are a good place to start.”

“How many? Because you know I’ll go overboard and you’ll end up probably stabbing me with one of them.” He laughed. Things will be okay, hopefully.

#ethan dolan #ethan dolan fanfiction #the dolan twins #ethan dolan fanfic #grayson dolan #grayson and ethan #grayson dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan smut #ethan dolan imagine #the dolan twins imagine

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cakelanguage · 7 years ago

Note

"I cant let you die" Adoribull?

I’m sorry this is so late! I’ve been rather sick for a while now and it’s catching up with me. But I had so much fun writing this! And I hope you still enjoy it.

You can also read it on AO3

The blade slides through his flesh in one fell swoop, but hedoesn’t waver. He can’t. Not when he has something precious to protect. Hegrabs the soldier’s wrist halting him from pulling his sword out of his gut. Hefeels the agonizing draw of metal against his tissue. In the back of his mindhe prays that the sword missed his organs, it’s always so messy to deal withwounds like that.

He doesn’t have enough mana to use time magic, too muchconcentration involved. He can’t devote himself to the task while trying tokeep his captive immobile. So he does the next best thing he can think of:fire.

He concentrates on gathering power to his neck, channelingthe Fade through the column of his throat instead of the conduit that usuallyrests in his hands. He blocks out the harsh cries around him and the spittlehitting his face from the struggling man in front of him. Instead, heacknowledges the blistering heat that encompasses his esophagus and lets out aroar.

The flames sear his tongue, no precautions taken unlike inthe bedroom a fortnight ago. His lips feel chapped and split from the heat, butit does the job. The man’s face bubbles at the heat, his screams ringing inDorian’s ears and he feels righteous. He watches the fires swallow the man andbegin to melt his skin from his bones, but he stares on.

The smell in other circumstances might’ve made him hungryhad he not known what the source was.

He doesn’t get to watch the man die in agony because an axetakes the man’s head from his shoulders. He watches dispassionately as itbounces twice. The soldier’s hair now shriveled remains flaking away.

The sword sits heavier in his belly now that nothing issupporting the handle to prevent it from shifting. Dorian makes an attempt tosteady the hilt but his hands are shaking. The handle slick with blood that hasmanaged to gush from the wound when the sword had moved.

His hearing is muffled, like he’s got cotton stuffed intothe openings like he’d done as a child when his father and mother would fight.He looks around the battlefield. He doesn’t see any noticeable red Templars ortheir demonic entourage in his line of vision. He does see Kariha standing tallwith Sera. As their Inquisitor should. He swears he can make out her victoriouslaugh, but that could very well be his imagination.

He longs to turn around, to get a good look at the man heprotected to see if he’s okay. That gut-wrenching terror that had struck himwhen he saw Bull go down from a strike to his face. Was his eye alright? Did hemanage to protect him? He was still alive right?

Before he can think much longer on it, large hands grab hisunsteady body and guide him into a sitting position. The man is speaking in atongue Dorian knows he should understand but the meanings scramble in his head.Blinking furiously to try and clear the black spots that are creeping into hisvision, he concentrates on the man talking. Gray skin with large protrudinghorns. He smiles.

“Amatus,” Dorian mumbles. His voice is rough like gratingstones and there’s a metallic taste hitting his tongue. He wants to say itagain and again as he reaches a shaky hand to cup Bull’s face. There’s blooddripping in a steady stream down his face from a wound that bisects his browand extends across the bridge of his nose. He lets out a shuddering sigh ofrelief. Bull’s eye was fine.

When Dorian tells him as such, but he can’t understand whyBull isn’t expressing the same relief that he is over the fact that his eye issafe. He tries to get Bull to understand but he’s gently shushed. He feels anuncomfortable pressure being applied to his stomach. He whines in discomfortand makes a feeble attempt to get away, but the pressure follows. One of Bull’shands immediately begins to stroke his hair and he relaxes at the touch. Beforehe can get too comfortable, Bull’s hand is lightly patting his cheek. He frownsup at Bull, now managing to hear bits and pieces of what he’s saying. Kadancomes out heavier than he’s used to hearing it, mixed with wide eyes andshaking hands. Or is he shaking? He tilts his head so he can lay it againstBull’s chest and lavishes in the rapid thumping beneath his ear. So much lifebeating in his chest, exactly how he’s supposed to be.

“Kadan, Dorian,” Bull begged, one hand pressing harder onhis gut, his other tapping a staccato against his cheek. “Keeping talking to meokay, don’t go to sleep yet. I know you’re tired and you’ve earned it, but justwait a little longer. Kariha and Sera have gone to get a healer, they should beback soon. Weren’t too far from camp. Once you’re healed I’ll let you sleep aslong as you want, alright? Won’t even jostle you awake when the sun’s high inthe sky.”

“You’re rambling,” Dorian noted, “I’m the… the rambler.” Hehears a wet snort above him and he feels his lips quirk in an attempted roguishgrin. “I’ll be fine, I may…. not be too well versed… in healing magic but… itshould be enough to… to slow the bleeding.” His tongue feels thick in his mouthand his throat is screaming to be silent. The slight droop in Bull’s shoulderswhen he gives the information away makes it all worth it.

Despite the reassurance he gives Bull, the sword, which hefinally remembers is still inside him, remains where it is. He doesn’t mentionthis to Bull, not when he sees the tightness in his eyes and the tense line ofhis lips. He wishes he could talk more but his mouth isn’t cooperating and thepesky spots in his vision have returned with vengeance.

“Why?”

The question startles Dorian and he tries to focus on Bullthe best he can. He makes an inquiring hum that he hopes sounds nonchalant. Hecan’t tell if he managed it or not, of course Bull would use his Ben-Hassrathtraining now.

“Why’d you jump in front of me? I’ve taken stronger hitsthan that, you know I can brush that off like it’s nothing. I could’ve takenit. I could’ve… why did you do it, Kadan?” The term of endearment softens theinterrogation. Bull isn’t mad, not really, just concerned. “I didn’t need youto do that, I would’ve been fine—“

“Would you’ve been?” Bull’s rant comes to an abrupt halt.Perhaps Bull was sure of himself, but Dorian had seen the trajectory of theblade. “It looked…” He turns his head to cough out a gob of blood that hadwelled up from the blisters and broken skin that’s inside of his mouth andesophagus. “… like he was going… for your heart.”

“He did get myheart.”

His brows furrow before a soft fluttering in his chestsettles comfortably over him. That’s right, he thinks with a tender smiletucked into the crook of his mouth, Kadan.He always forgets the romanticism associated with the word, not that Bull wouldadmit it. Perhaps one day, but it’s a work in progress.

“Bull, I can’t let you die.” Not now, not when Dorian feelsmore fulfilled than all his research has made him feel. Not when nights ofreckless abandon above the tavern, with their sweat mixing as the dichotomy oftheir skin paints pictures of union, could disappear and leave him stranded insmoke and tantalizing visions from the Fade promising the return of suchwonder. Not when roaring laughter and a warm hand with missing fingers fillshis life with more joy and comfort than he’d care to admit.

“I can’t let you die, Dorian,” Bull urged, as if Doriandidn’t understand. Preposterous to think so, but he doesn’t blame the Qunari.Bull hasn’t settled into being Tal-Vashoth quite yet, he’s used to being atool, something useful but easy enough to replace. He doesn’t realize thatDorian is almost positive his life would deteriorate without him.

He takes a deep breath. “So, we both won’t die then.” Seeingthe perturbed expression on Bull’s face he rolls his eyes. “Yet. Andraste’stits, Bull, I… wasn’t talking about necromancy.”

Bull lets out a stilted laugh and leans down to press a kissto his forehead. It’s wet and tacky from Bull’s head wound, but he lets out apleased hum nonetheless. He hears the heavy beat of hooves approaching quicklyand knows that Kariha is back with help.

And with that, he lets his eyes fall closed and slips intounconsciousness.

The Iron Bull sits in front of the fire in easy silence. Thehealers had cleaned his face and a bandage smothered in some kind of elfrootpoultice slapped onto the wound. The healers kicked him out of the medical tentto let them work, but he knows Dorian will be fine. Has to be. The healers saidhe’d be alright in a couple of days, the sword having hit muscle and tissue andonly grazing his guts. Most of the damage was in his throat from the suddenonslaught of fire he’d conjured without taking the right precautions.

He felt an appreciative rumble escape his throat. As much asit had pained him to see Dorian hurt because of him, it was also invigoratingto see the man defend him with such ferocity. Bull’s heart was a formidable man.

His Kadan. His ataashi.

#adoribull #adoribull fic #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fic #dorian pavus #the iron bull #protective dorian #protective bull #BAMF!Dorian #fic #fluff #hurt/comfort #graphic depictions of violence #dorian breathes fire and melts a man's face #you know everyday things #da: i #my fic

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tagsecretsanta · 6 years ago

Text

From Such-a-random-rambler

to @samanthalexistracy

Secret Santa does not own this piece, full credit goes to the creator mentioned above!

“And I suppose you yelled at him?”

“Seriously though John, he wants to do game design. What sort of use does that have in the rescue business?”

Scott was pacing in front of the holographic image of his brother as he ranted, and had covered the length of the room at least a dozen times since he called up to Thunderbird Five on his private channel. It was a line that no-one else could drop in to and John gave it priority meaning it was the go-to communication method for emergencies like this.

Scott thought of it as an emergency anyway, and John would too if he just listened while Scott explained. This was urgent!

“Our whole lives don’t have to revolve around IR you know.” John said distractedly, gesturing on a screen just out of range of the holoemitters. He clearly wasn’t taking this seriously – this was Alan’s entire life at stake.

“I know that, this isn’t about International Rescue. This is about making sensible choices, Alan should be thinking about his future and choosing acareer. Not just” Scott waved a hand “playing around.”

“Do you think what I do is ‘playing around’?” John raised an eyebrow, pausing for just a moment before carrying on with whatever he was doing.

“Of course not!”

“Well Dad did. He didn’t see a value in programming or communications and I’ve covered some of the same areas as Alan will.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

John sighed heavily and turned to face Scott, giving him his full attention.

“What did Dad say when you told him you wanted to be a pilot?”

“He told me it was too dangerous.”

“And you....”

“I told him to go to hell.” Scott said with a smile at the memory.

“And Gordon said the same when Dad forbid him to continue competitive swimming. And Virgil ignored him when Dad said he shouldn’t go to art college. And I just didn’t tell Dad until I’d had confirmation that I was accepted onto that first astrophysics course. And do you remember what you told me after the blazing row was over?”

Scott remembered. John, who was always buzzing with enthusiasm about his latest obsession so that he wouldn’t shut up about it, was instead subdued and listless. He had been laying on his bed staring at the ceiling when Scott found him. Little brothers were to be protected, taken care of, consoled and encouraged. There was only one thing to say in that moment.

“I said ‘Good for you.’”

“Exactly. You supported me when I needed you to.”

“But Dad would want...”

“It doesn’t matter. No, Scott listen to me.” John held up a spectral hand to forestall any interruptions. “It doesn’t matter what Dad would want because he isn’t here. He was always planning ten steps ahead but sometimes he forgot about the more human side, and that we needed to behappy as well. Which is why we come to you.”

Scott had indeed been a sounding board for the others for as long as he had been a big brother- listening to them talk about the test they took at school, a girl they liked, a cool stick they found. However important or passing their opinion Scott had wanted to hear it: never telling them they were wrong to think for themselves. The world would try and pull them down soon enough so he wasn’t about to contribute to it, though he sometimes suggested some more research to their more disastrous sounding ideas. Like when Virgil - a ten year old intent on understanding everything by taking it apart and putting it back together again - wanted to build a combustion engine in his bedroom. Scott guided him in finding out how to do it safely and when Virgil learned that it wasn’t a good idea to have carbon monoxide being generated in your sleeping area he made the much more sensible decision to take apart the microwave.

Had Scott really stopped being the person they talked to? Was he now someone who talked at them instead? Of course they would stop sharing their secrets if they though he would go flying off the handle like Dad sometimes had. Sadly Scott could probably pin point the day it all changed and wondered what else he had missed out on. He would have to go to the others and make them spill all their secrets.

John had been watching him think, letting him come to his own conclusion. John had always been a great teacher like that. From the other side of the world and miles above John nodded when Scott refocused on him and said:

“Alan’s smart enough to weigh up his options, he knows all the objections that a parent would raise and he still spoke to you before he went through it. I’m sure you’re smart enough to work out why. Now I’m way too busy for this so go talk to him.”

That was a lie. John could hold four conversations, plan two rescues, watch tv and bake a cake at the same time, there was no way

he was too busy. But Scott realised that he was talking to the wrong brother, that he hadn’t been thinking as a brother himself for a long time. It was time to fix that.

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

Scott slowly opened the door, to find Alan at his desk hunched over a text book writing in a large leather bound notebook.

“Go away Scott.” Alan said without looking up.

“Can we talk?” Scott asked, entering the room just a few steps.

“No, because I’m not going to change my mind, no matter how much you yell at me.” Alan said flatly.

“I’m not going to yell.”

“Any more. You mean you are not going to yell any more? You were yelling quite a bit.” Alan looked up now – a mix of hurt and angry and stubbornand unsure that Scott could remember from being a teenager himself.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” Scott sat on Alan’s bed, within touching distance but didn’t reach out just yet. “You know I’m only ever looking out for you, right?”

“Sure. Are we done now?” Alan was already turning back to his book. Was he studying anyway, despite the argument? That showed a dedication that made Scott proud.

“No we’re not done. I wanted to say....” Scott took a deep breath. “Dad would want you to think more seriously, not to rush in, make better plans for the future and all that. And I’ve tried to do what he would have wanted, to do what’s best for this family and for this organisation.”

“I know that, and you’re doing a great job. And I know that I needed a formal guardian after we lost Dad. And even though it’s not

been any different in some ways because you were the one who taught me to do my shoelaces and you’ve always been the one to make me do my homework or chew my food properly but sometimes....” Alan ran out of words.

“Sometimes you just want me to be your big brother.” Scott finished for him, on the same page.

“Yeah.”

“Come here.” Scott held out an arm and Alan lumped his way over to the bed. Scott drew him in tight for a hug that the youngest Tracey resisted for only a second.

“And I always want to be your big brother. The other responsibilities have made me forget just how much I love being a big brother and how different that is from anything else. It’s difficult to balance everything but I promise that I’m going to try harder and get better.”

“So you’re not going to be such a jerk?”

“Hey!” Scott protested, drawing back slightly, but grinned when he saw Alan’s cheeky expression. “Nobody’s going to be a jerk.”

“Then does my brother think my further education plans are ‘crazy, ill-judged and conceited?”

Alan’s tone was light but Scott could sense the weight of this question. As much as he may shrug it off Alan really cared what his family thought and the wrong word in the wrong place could wreck his confidence. Gordon often put his foot in it.

Honestly Scott wasn’t entirely convinced that this course would be Alan’s best choice in any respect. He could offer suggestions of better options, better institutions, better paths to follow. Maybe, if Alan had been his son, he would have mentioned them. He would have tried to persuade him to take another option, lay out carrots as well as sticks. But Alan wasn’t his son and so there was only one thing to say in this moment.

“As your brother, I think it’s awesome.”

The grin Alan gave him was the reward for saying the right thing, and Alan immediately bounced off the bed grab the prospectus and wave it in his face. Guardian-Scott might have to do some damage limitation when Alan found distance learning for a course like this more difficult than he imagined. International Rescue – Scott would have to find enough hours in the day so they didn’t compromise their missions or Alan’s education.

Big Brother-Scott didn’t care about any of those things. Alan was happy and that was all that mattered.

#thunderbirds are go #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #thunderbirds season 1 #thunderbirds season 2 #thunderbirds season 3 #secret santa 2018 #random rambler #tag team secret santa #fanfic

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justalittlebluetiefling · 7 years ago

Note

How do you plot out your fics? I’m just beginning to work on one now (it’ll be my first multichap if everything goes well) and I have no idea where to start. I have a couple of plot points but that’s it. I don’t really know where else to go, but I like the idea behind this story so much that I feel like I need to complete it. Any advice would be greatly appreciated! 💖

So, my plots are a little messy. I always want them to be organized, but they turn into a bit of a mess. I used to use a notebook for this stuff, but I kept losing them, so I downloaded the Onedrive app and Google Docs onto my phone. That way I can write ideas down when I’m not at home. This got long, so I’m putting the rest of the answer under the cut:

But, to the point: With fanfiction, I like to start with a list of the characters I want in the story. I write this down in a word document and give each character a separate page. Then, I write a short summary of what they do in the story and what their relationships are like with the other characters. I’ll also note stuff like age, grade, occupation, pets, etc. if it’s important.

Next, I move on to a general timeline. First, I’ll write a short summary at the top of the document. Next, if I know the amount of time that I’ll be covering in the story, I’ll write that down. Then under each section, I make a list of things I know I want to go into the story, like important events, a sentence, or a piece of dialogue that I can’t get out of my head.

After I’ve got all those listed out, if I know more, I flesh out each bulletpoint. If visuals are your thing, here’s a link to the timeline (sans summary) for year one of Sometimes I Can’t See Myself so you can see what I did: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1hw7MiF7CdYCqbrITLzV_RhM8_0txii6fchoKAlsW9HQ/edit?usp=sharing

I try to keep it fairly basic. Try being the key word.

I think the most important thing to remember when you’ve got stuff plotted out is that even when you’ve got it all written down, things are still going to change. Sometimes, things aren’t going to fit the way you want to, so stay flexible.

Also, circling back to apps that I have downloaded: my commute to and from work is long when I have to go to the office. I’m talking 45 minutes to an hour both ways. If I get hit by a bolt of inspiration while I’m driving, I used to try chanting it over and over again until I got home, but by then, I’d forget all about it. Anyway, I downloaded Smart Recorder (I have an Android, not sure if it’s on IOS) and it’s seriously saved my life. Note: I’m not encouraging you to use your phone and drive. I usually keep it open to the app while I’m driving and hit the button when I need to start talking.

To end this: I have a folder for each WIP. Inside each folder is another folder. I have one for audio files that I upload so I can listen to them any time and another for chapters, because I write each chapter in a different Word doc. I keep all my outline docs in the main folder, though. Like this:

This… got a little away from me. I’m sorry. I can be a rambler. BUT I do have to say that this might be my favorite ask that I’ve ever received. Honestly, I love plotting things out so much. I would tell you how many plotted works I have in my Onedrive (that I will likely never finish), but I’m embarrassed by the number and don’t want you guys to judge me. I hope that this helped!

#erin answers things #i really do need to finish up my work now #i've been SUPER productive today #but i loved this ask and i'm super flattered that you sent this to me #i hope that link works!

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breeeliss · 8 years ago

Note

Nath/Nino + 'the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear’ AU ?

i’m…..suddenly so into this that i got carried away lol

words: 1409

Nino didn’t know what kind of an idiot could manage to trip off the fire alarm at three in the goddamn morning, but he was going to assume it was a special brand of idiot that he was thirty seconds away from chewing out. He needed to wake up in four hours to get to work on time. He didn’t deserve this.

He was about to grab his noise canceling headphones and listen to music until he fell asleep, but then Nino heard frantic knocking on his front door and cursed loudly in his empty room. God, that was probably the landlord trying to figure out which apartment the alarm was coming from. Nino grabbed a tank top and put on his glasses, hoping that this was just some moron leaving their gas burners on by accident so that Nino could just crawl back into bed.

So when he opened the door, the last thing he expected to see was a cute guy standing in the hallway in his underwear, bouncing on his toes and looking like he was two seconds away from having a panic attack.

“Hey!” he piped up a little too loudly. “Horrible hour. I know. Quick question. Are you good at putting out fires?”

Nino blinked. “Putting out fires? Is there a fire in your apartment?”

“Um, maybe?” his neighbor winced, speaking almost too quickly for Nino to understand him. “Kitchen, technically, but uh, yeah. I kinda panicked and knocked on the first door I saw.”

“Oh my God, you left your apartment burning!?” Nino exclaimed, propping his door open with a shoe. “Where do you live?”

The two of them jogged down the hallway to the next apartment over and Nino almost slipped on this stranger’s welcome mat as he booked it inside, following the grey smoke that was billowing out of the kitchen and making the fire alarm screech. Nino covered his mouth with the crook of his elbow and was able to see a small saucepan on the stovetop that was currently holding a small fire and burning whatever contents were inside. Nino put the cold water in the sink on full blast, snatched up a kitchen towel, and threw the pot into the sink to extinguish the fire.

Luckily, a fire extinguisher wasn’t necessary and the charred food – Jesus, what the hell was this dude trying to cook? – was immediately put out leaving nothing but an apartment full of smoke.

“Open your windows,” Nino coughed, pointing to the nameless neighbor that was wisely deciding his presence in the kitchen wasn’t about to make anything better. “I’ll try and shut this stupid thing off.”

It took four open windows and three fans to finally get all the smoke out, but eventually the air in the apartment was clear and Nino had managed to disable the fire alarm. All was well, he guessed. Way too much excitement for this late at night though.

His neighbor brushed his dark red bangs out of his eyes and awkwardly held out a hand. “Uh. Thanks for saving my ass. And sorry for walking you up. I’m Nathanael.”

Nino snorted and shook it. “Name’s Nino, a.k.a the dude that would love to know how the fuck you managed all this.”

Nathanael bit his lip and scratched the back of his head. “I just came back late from my studio and I was gonna make pasta real quick. The sauce was in the fridge so I thought putting it on for half an hour would be fine? But then it wasn’t fine and there was like, literal fire, and I’m sort of hopped on caffeine right now because my showcase is coming up soon and my brain just went. Boom! Panic! So I ran…to get…help. I’m not making myself sound too cool, am I?”

Nino burst into laughter and shook his head. This kid was a rambler. A little panicky too. A shit cook, too. But adorable. Very adorable. The kind of adorable that made it literally impossible to be pissed off at this guy. “Pro tip: sauce never needs to heat up for that long. Especially if it’s out a jar.”

“Yeah,” Nathanael sighed, and Nino had only just noticed that the ends of his hair were covered in black and purple paint. “Definitely have to write that one down.”

“Gonna guess you don’t cook often?”

Nathanael chuckled. “I usually just order take out. But I’m in between jobs at the moment and I gotta save the money for paints, you know?”

“Artist?”

“Sort of. Or hopefully.”

“What does that mean?”

Nathanael gestured to the seven or so easels that were propped up against the walls of his apartment. “Well, I’ve got a showcase next week that I’m hoping will get people talking. It’s in a bar and a total of twelve people have RSVP’ed on Facebook, but you’ve gotta start somewhere.”

“Ah, don’t worry so much,” Nino assured. “When I started out as a DJ I think maybe three people showed up to my first gig. It was in my garage.”

Nathanael snorted, his eyes hidden slightly by his bangs but his smile doing the work of lighting up his entire face anyway. “Humble beginnings.”

“Tell me about it.” Nino jutted his chin towards the fridge. “May I?”

“I-I mean. I guess. But just. Don’t judge.”

Nino stared over the door of the fridge. “You have a pack of tortilla bread, olives, and mayonnaise in here.”

“Huh. Weird. I don’t even like olives.”

“Dude.”

“I told you! I don’t cook!”

“Okay, Picasso,” Nino announced. “No offense, but I can’t be waking up to fire alarms at three in the morning anymore. You free tomorrow night?”

Nathanael furrowed his brows. “F-Free? Like…like free free?”

“Is there another definition of the word?”

“No just, uh….I guess. Yeah,” he finally said. “Yeah I’m free.”

“Cool. I’m bringing over pasta and sauce and we’re going to work up from the basics. My mom basically raised me with a wooden spoon in my hands. There’s no way I’m going to leave someone like you alone without any instruction after you burned pre-made sauce.”

“Oh!” Nathanael exclaimed. “You mean….free to come cook. Right….yeah, right. Of course.”

Nino bit his lip and smirked. “Did you think I meant something else?”

“Nope!” Nathanael laughed, crossing his arms and messing with the magnets on his fridge. “Forget it. I’m….caffeine. Like I said. Just. Crazy amounts of caffeine. I’m saying dumb stuff.”

“I mean….we can be fancy about it and I’ll bring over some wine,” Nino offered.

“Oh….oh cool! I’ll uh. I guess I’ll put on a shirt?”

Nino dipped his head and felt laugher bubbling from his chest again. “You’re a funny guy, Nath.” He pulled out his phone from his pocket and handed it to Nathanael. “So dinner tomorrow? I’ll bring wine. Shirts required.”

Nathanael looked down at Nino’s phone for a moment like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with it, but his mind caught up to his limbs and he carefully took the phone to under in his number. “Y-Yeah, sounds awesome. I could use some lessons.”

“I’m a chill teacher, don’t worry. Besides, I won’t be able to live with myself if I knew you were subsisting off of take out. It’s the mom friend in me.”

“Well, I just moved in here a couple of days ago, so I could definitely use a friend. Mom friend or not.” Nathanael threw his phone back at him. “Text me when you’re coming over so I know when to clean up. There’s usually brushes and sketches around here more often than not.”

“No problem,” Nino shrugged. “Although, don’t be surprised if I text you before that.”

Nathanael smiled so hard the apples of his cheeks made his eyes squint in a way that was absolutely fucking precious. Nino was started to think he was becoming a goner. “Looking forward to it.”

“Uh, yeah,” Nino said, drumming his hands against his sweatpants. “This has been fun, but I’ve gotta get a few hours in before work tomorrow. See you around?”

“Yeah,” Nathanael said. “See you around, neighbor.”

By the time Nino had shut the door behind him and started walking back to his own apartment, he knew that there was no way he was going to fall back asleep anytime soon. Not with the shit eating grin that was still on his face.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #nathnino #ninath #nino lahiffe #nathanael kurtzberg #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #nathnino fanfiction #my writing #request #help-i-cant-adult #tumblr fic

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thetourguidebarbie · 7 years ago

Text

Rules: List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on: writing, art, gifsets, whatever.

OKAY so @princess-of-the-worlds tagged me in this and though I have already done one I wanted an excuse to throw previews into the universe, so here are five things I am working on and a sneak peek of each one because WHY NOT

they’re below the cut :)

As-of-now untitled Veela!Caroline/Hybrid!Klaus arranged marriage au for @itsnotacrimetoloveyou

“Can someone just tell me what’s going on?”

“Well, I had expected you to be informed,” Klaus said boredly. “The short version is that I assisted your little clan a few centuries ago, and we made a bargain. Times were different then, and the gift of one’s only daughter’s hand was thought to be an honor, and I was therefore promised payment in the form of a wife. Now, I’m not the marrying type, but who was I to turn down a weapon in the form of a lovely girl with such... useful abilities...” his eyes dragged up and down her body as he spoke, and she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “Such power,” he murmured, and she had a feeling he hadn’t realized he’d spoken.

“In the form of a what now?”

“A wife,” he repeated slowly as though he thought she’d lost a few IQ points in the last thirty seconds. “I have the contract here if you’d like to see it. Signed in blood.”

As-of-now Untitled Film Student/Amateur Model Hansy AU (for @accidental-rambler and @provocative-envy)

Harry checked the time on his phone for the fifth time in as many minutes, wondering, not for the first time, whether he could recast her. It was a nice fantasy, but he knew that realistically it was too late in the process. He’d procrastinated on the project for as much of the semester as possible, and he would ask Hermione for help, but he knew he would only receive it after a long lecture on time management.

Sighing, he was about to call her again when he heard the familiar click of heels on the tile floor, and he turned around to face the current bane of his existence. She had her eyes on her phone screen and was drinking from a lipstick-stained Starbucks cup with “PATTY” scrawled across it in what seemed to be unnecessarily aggressive capital letters.

“You do know that I have to check out the cameras by the hour? And that I have a weekly limit?”

“Sorry,” she said with a shrug, not sounding apologetic in the least. “I overslept.”

“You have Starbucks.”

“Yeah. And priorities.”

She sat down on an armchair that he’d very carefully positioned earlier to catch the light in a certain way, moving it back a few inches as she crossed her legs at the knee, and he decided he might murder her once he turned in the portrait series. Yeah, he’d have to wait a few months so that he wouldn’t be suspected, but it was definitely on his post-graduation agenda.

Come in With the Tide (KC!Poseidon x Amphitrite retelling for @howeverlongs)

“I don’t know. You’re the god, not me. I just work here. Can you calm down? You’re making the water angry.”

He found himself obeying her request without thought, taking a few deep breaths, and she stood up again, looking at him with stubborn blue eyes and flushed cheeks, and the truth hit him instantly, the confusion and anger draining out of him in favor of fear.

“I think we’re soulmates,” he said impulsively.

There was a beat of silence, and then another, Caroline’s eyes widening as she stared at him before her lips twitched and giggles bubbled out of her mouth, her hand covering it as though it would stop the sound. “Soulmates?” she asked. “Seriously? I wasn’t born yesterday.”

The Other Side (fake dating au for @mon-amour-eternel)

There was a beat or two of silence before Klaus spoke. “Well, I need a date for the premiere of The Last Day.”

“What, did your date bail on you?” she asked, reaching to get one of the pens in the middle of the table to twirl it between her fingers and trying to not sound too bitter. She hated that she was obviously his second choice, the last-minute replacement for whoever was his Hollywood starlet of the month.

She and Klaus had been friends since elementary school, therefore guaranteeing that her dumb crush that she’d nursed since they were sixteen was not returned, at least at this point. She suspected it had been for awhile when she was in college and he was busy doing auditions, but she’d been too insecure to do anything about it, and she didn’t want to ruin our friendship.

Then he got famous and could basically have anyone he wanted and she’d abandoned the prospect of dating him, deciding she’d get over him. So far it wasn’t going well, but she was not a quitter.

“No. I didn’t have one.”

“Okay, so not that I’m not happy to go with you, but why are you asking me last minute?”

“Because I need a date.”

“Why? Can’t you just go by yourself?”

“No, Caroline. I need a date,” he emphasized, and it was a testament to how well she knew him that she could tell he was immensely uncomfortable.

She swallowed, her heart skipping a beat. “Like, a romantic date? You’re asking me on a date-date?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Klaus, I--”

“My publicist believes that it would be advantageous to my public image if I were to have a relationship longer than two weeks with someone relatable. Like you.”

Untitled Werewolf fake dating au (for @lalainajanes)

“I’m...um...seeing someone.”

“Seeing someone? Who?”

Caroline opened and closed her mouth, searching for a name that would be believable and that she wouldn’t have to fess up too. “Klaus...?” she half-asked.

The bane of her existence had taken a liking to her sometime around her 17th birthday and in the last four years he hadn’t exactly hidden it. He hadn’t stopped dating altogether, but she couldn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her for just a bit too long to be just friends. He was two years older than her and had been sent off to fight some kind of territory battle with a pack a few villages away about six months before. It was dangerous, and it was more than likely that he’d die and she’d never have to see his smug smirky jerk face again.

That was the dream, anyway.

“Klaus?” her father asked, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Interesting. How did that happen?”

“He...I like him?”

“You don’t sound all that sure.”

“I like him. He’s...” she searched for some sort of compliment. “Um...handsome.”

“Well, then you’ll be happy to know that I’ve just gotten word that our men are coming back by tomorrow. I’m sure Niklaus will be thrilled to see you.”

“Seriously?” she muttered before catching herself and giving her dad what was probably an obviously fake smile. “I mean, great! That’s great. I’m super excited.”

#klaroline #my fanfiction #sneak peek

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lynyrdwrites · 8 years ago

Text

Bonded

I have all the Nessian feels after ACOWAR. So I needed to write something, based off my own pet theory about the scene when she couldn’t leave him. I’m sure others have the same theory. Please enjoy!

As always - @accidental-rambler, I wrote Nessian.

---

She buried herself away in her room.

In part, it was to mourn. Their father… he had been a terrible parent to them, but in the end, he had fought for them. And part of Nesta mourned that she would never get to know that man. The one willing, finally, to fight for his daughters. So yes, part of it was to mourn.

But…

She could hear her sisters laughing below, finding joy in the sunshine, and the life that thrived in the city they now called home. She wanted to be there, with Feyre and Elain, to live, because she had been so very certain she was going to die.

Black flashed outside her window, and Nesta quickly retreated away. She peeked out once, and saw it was the man shrouded in shadows – Azriel – and her shoulders slumped in relief, even as something in her chest went tight.

She could… feel him. Cassian. As though he had somehow found a home inside her chest. Bits of them had been there since that day with the cauldron, but not like this. Not until the battle, and that clearing.

I have no regrets in my life but this; that we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta.

His lips – they had been warm and dry, and Nesta could still feel them branded on her own. More than their kiss when she was human, the one he gave her in that clearing haunted her dreams. The first had been passion, the second regret for what would never be.

I will find you in the next world – the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.

Except they had this life, because they hadn’t died, no matter how certain they’d both been of their end. It had been easier to accept it when she knew she was going to die, that bond between them, the one that had snapped tight when she had realized she couldn’t leave him behind. Not him.

In death it had been easy, but in life…

Nesta Archeron might be a coward.

She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall next to her window. She could feel him, and if she reached out…

He reached back, and it felt almost as though he were next to her, his hands stroking her skin and –

Nesta shoved him out. Or maybe she blocked the bond. She didn’t know what she did. She was still aware of him, but there was a distance – the distance she had been carefully maintaining by staying hidden away in her room, even though she knew Elain and Feyre didn’t understand why.

And Nesta refused to tell them.

She found herself standing in front of the door, looking at it longingly. Even across the room from her window, Elain’s laughter reached her. It had been so long since Elain had laughed like that, and when she had seemed so broken after Graysen had denied her…

Nesta had worried she wouldn’t hear it again.

But… if the Shadowsinger was here then –

She felt him, even though she had dulled the bond, like the beat of her heart. He was here. He was mere footsteps away.

He was…

“Nesta.” Her name was a quiet growl from the other side of the door, and without meaning to, Nesta laid her palm there. She knew with a bone deep certainty, that her hand rested over his, as though they were touching through the wood. When he repeated her name, it was almost prayer-like. “Nesta.”

“I don’t know what to do about you,” she whispered. Her voice should have been too quiet for him to hear, but they echoed in that bond between them as well, and she knew they had reached him.

“Come out, Nesta,” he replied. “You don’t have to do anything else. Just come out. Your sisters miss you.”

Her hand curled into a fist against the door, uncertainty warring with desire to be with her sisters – to be with him.

I’ll leave. The voice in her head made her freeze, because it was his, but it sounded desperate, even frenzied. If it will make it easier, I’ll leave.

And he would ache every second he was gone.

And so… so would she.

The door creaked open, and there he stood. Dressed in leather, his hair tugged out of his face, hazel eyes focused on her with a solemnity that seemed foreign on his face.

“I have never admitted to needing another person in my life,” Nesta said, when they stood there, separated by a mere foot, but making no move to bridge the distance, though Cassian’s hand clenched, as though his palm felt the same itch as hers for contact. “I... even when Feyre kept us alive, I would never admit that I needed her.”

“You don’t nee-”

“I need you,” Nesta blurted out over him. She didn’t recognize her own voice, filled with desperation, hoarse with the effort it took not to choke on the words. “I need you, and when I thought you were going to die… I though it for the best I die with you, because I didn’t think I’d survive it if you were gone.”

It was the first time she had ever admitted to such a weakness, and the words felt foreign on her tongue. But they were the utter truth, torn from her heart, because she needed him.

She thought she would hate it, needing another person. But she didn’t.

“Nesta,” he whispered again, her name still like a prayer, and he held her face between his palms and sealed his lip over her own.

If their first kiss had been passion, and their second regret… then this one was a promise. It made it so easy, for her to grasp his face as well, to kiss him over and over, taking quick breaths in between.

Their heartbeats were a wild staccato between them, and it reminded her that they were alive – that he was alive.

“Don’t cry,” Cassian murmured, breaking off their kisses to rub his thumbs over her cheeks and wipe away the tears Nessian hadn’t even realized had begun to fall. “Don’t cry, Nesta. You’re here. I’m here. We’re fine.”

Sobs tore out of her chest, and she wasn’t even entirely sure what they were for. Grief for her father? Relief to still be alive? Terror, because being alive meant she’d have to live this life now… and without a war to focus on, what would that life be?

Maybe all of it.

They sunk to the floor, Cassian holding her close, rocking them back and forth, her tears soaking his leathers. A thousand emotions, the ones she had been keeping locked away, swamped her, and all she could do was cling to him and let the tears fall.

Let them fall until there was nothing left to cry, and even then he still rocked her.

“I can feel you,” she said at last. “It’s like you’re a piece of me.”

And that connection… she thought it might have been there all along, but it hadn’t been torn open, not until they were both so certain they were going to die, and all that had been left was regret over what they could have had.

“I know,” Cassian replied, and though there was something like wonder in his voice, there was another emotion that she felt across the bond, one that had her looking up at him with a furrowed brow. He looked down at her, his eyes almost sad. “I lead Rhys’ armies, but I’m still just a bastard Illyrian.”

Not nearly good enough for you. She wasn’t sure she was meant to hear that, but it had her straightening in his embrace, swiping tears away with steady hands.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Nesta informed him stoutly. “I do. And I’ve decided I’m keeping you.”

“When the hell did you decide that?” Cassian demanded, frowning as Nesta pushed out of his arms and scrambled to her feet. She paused thoughtfully, considering the question.

“When I thought you were going to die,” she decided finally. “And I couldn’t leave you behind.”

She gave a sharp nod, as though it were all decided, but the outrage in the bond had her sighing and looking back at him with a frustrated huff.

“You can’t just say that!” he informed her. “That you made the decision then – you didn’t even visit me while I healed!”

That had hurt him, Nesta realized, utterly fascinated with how she could just know so much of him, the bond between them becoming a solid, breathing thing – stronger with each moment in each other’s company.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last, because she hadn’t meant to hurt him. “I was grieving, and Morrigan was…” she trailed off with a helpless shrug, not wanting to admit her jealousy, that Mor had always been there when she had… needed it. “I’m sorry.”

He cocked his head, his expression almost confused as he attempted to figure out her tumultuous emotions. Whatever he decided she was feeling made him smile, and he stepped into her, reaching out to twine a loose lock of her hair around his finger.

“I’m sorry, too. Next time, I’ll tell Mor that you get to be my nurse.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed, a hot retort on her tongue, but Cassian tugged her in for another one of those soul destroying kisses.

It was so easy, to lose herself in him, to let him push her against the wall and run his hands along her body. She sighed into the kiss and clutched his shoulders, trying to pull him closer.

“I want you,” he admitted on a gasp, and Mor wanted to say it back, only he kissed her again.

Then laughter chimed once more, and Nesta froze, making Cassian do the same. With an almost pained groan, he pulled away.

“To bed,” he murmured, seeming to be talking more to himself than her. “That’s what all mates are supposed to feel. The overwhelming urge to go to bed. But not my Nesta. You can somehow resist. And here I am, damn well stopping.”

“I…need them,” she said softly, cupping his cheek with her hand. The word still fell off her tongue awkwardly, but Cassian nodded and closed his eyes, resting his forehead on hers. “I’ve been hidden away here for too long.”

He stepped back and held out his hand. She reached forward, almost hesitantly, and slid her hand into his.

They seemed to just fit.

And then, Nesta followed the sound of Elain’s laughter, tugging her mate along at her side.

#Nessian #Nessian drabbles #Nessian fic #acowar spoilers #post acowar

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