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presleyhearted · 7 months ago

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Kismet, Kismet ✨🤍 | Part 2

pairing : 1970s!e x Asian!OC summary : Angel Song grew up in a strict, Korean household. Molding her into the perfect 'good girl.' Through a strange case of serendipity, she finds herself face to face with Elvis Presley, the one person who just might threaten to shatter the glass of her good girl act. chapter warnings: age gap, illness, panic.

wc: 3841

genre: 70s!e x college!student!reader. fluff, angst, smut.

taglist: @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a @obsessedwithurlove

author's note : Here we are with Part 2! Thank you for the attention on part 1. I hope you like the name change, trust me there is a reason for it. I've always made a playlist for this fic! It is in the link below, but I will be adding songs as I go along. Happy reading! <3 - Rose playlist -

“It’s fine now.” Angel breathed out, signaling to the raven-haired star that it was clear for him to turn around. The split second that Elvis was turned around provided Angel with a small inkling of time to well, breathe. To somehow force her brain to process that this is the reality, even if she does not know how or why.

Elvis, on the other hand, was ever the gentleman. But the very thought of a beautiful woman changing clothes right behind him - well, he was a man, after all. This was merely a passing thought though, as the realization that he owed her an explanation for this strange happenstance, made him truly forget what words were. She was a stranger to him, and well, judging from the wide-eyed gaze from her a few seconds ago - He was the complete opposite to her. Whether she is a fan of his, or merely one of the members of the population who know him from the enormity of his fame - there was a crossroad.

If he were to tell her the truth about why America’s favorite rock ‘n’ roll star is hiding in a cleaning supply closet - that would fracture the carefully curated image that he knew the people see him as, most certainly including her. Words spread like wildfire, and the nation is always hungry for new information about the world of the people under the spotlight. Hell, even the rumors that are not even remotely true - people inhale and whisper from ear to ear as if it were a section in an academic textbook. For a situation like this, that is true and is real, it would be on the front page news by the morning of the next day.

It’s better this way. Elvis tried to tell himself. By upholding the immaculate persona that the public has carved out for him, he would not only be saving himself but also saving her idea of him. He does not want to leave her with a memory of Elvis Presley revealing that the man underneath the glimmering spotlight, has never felt more engulfed by the waves of darkness than he does now.

So, that is it. He decides to conceal an ugly truth in exchange for keeping the beautiful idea of him that she most certainly has. And just in time, she tells him that it is fine to now turn around.

So, he does. And goddamn it, Elvis thinks to himself. The choices and thoughts that occupied his mind suddenly went to a standstill. It was as if the time that he took to think about what his explanation would be, made him briefly forget to truly have a look at her. Albeit, he did not have time to earlier due to letting her change, now - Elvis found himself finding the space of the supply closet shrink at a rapid rate. He was sat down, and she was stood up - Elvis could not help but find his gaze traveling from her long, slightly tanned legs, to the dress, and to her face that seemed to turn a charming shade of crimson under his gaze.

A pair of hazel eyes looked into his azure eyes. The very same pair of hazel eyes that when she blinked - perfectly captured the appearance of double eyelashes that accompanied her eyes. Elvis’ gaze traveled further - a small button nose, and a full, inviting burgundy-colored lips. Her skin radiated a glow - she was pale, but slightly tanned, a sure result of the Vegas heat. Like the mix of milk and honey. He noticed her black, wavy hair reaching almost her waist - Angel was certainly not tall, but also not short. She was like an oil painting personified, like an art piece that somehow felt the need to step out of the confines of the frame that she was in and step her hand out to him. A beauty that he never believed existed, never encountered before, and felt that he was the admirer intruding. He was so entranced by Angel, that he hardly realized that she had sat herself down on the floor.

Angel cleared her throat, “It was . . . um odd for me to be standing up.” She explained. Her voice was soft, but firm. There was a timidness to her tone, that she noticed very quickly, and tried to desperately fix it because well - I can’t make a fool of myself in front of Elvis Presley. She told herself, but how does one steady herself when he is looking at her with such blunt intensity? It was an intensity that rippled through every part of her being, as he did not fixate on one part of her, he was studying her - every detail of her. She wished she could take a glimpse into his mind and know what he was thinking. She prided herself in being able to read people easily, ever the analytical mind of hers - as her friend Felicity would say.

But not this time. Angel tried to shake herself out of it and thought to herself ‘It won’t matter. He’ll say what he needs to say, and we’ll part ways.’

Angel then thought to herself that it most probably be the easier and smarter choice to apologize to him, apologise for barging in and invading personal space, and then be on her way out. This would make more sense since he does not owe her an explanation. Yes, she was initially shocked to find him in such a random place, but it did not mean he had to explain anything to her. Then Angel also realizes that Elvis has not said anything since turning around, he must be thinking the same thing. Angel thought.

So, with that, she shakes her hand at him and starts to stand back up, “I’m so sorry, Mr Presley. You don’t have to explain anything to me, I’ll go.” Her words rushed out of her mouth, words that filled a sudden dread in Elvis.

“No, honey, it’s alright.” He said softly, making Angel pause her actions. She was frozen in confusion. She was in a rush a few moments before getting changed because she was afraid to miss her favorite star walking out onto the stage for the first time in front of her eyes. But that was before she discovered that he was sitting down in a supply closet and before she also became aware that the time on the ticking clock in the small confined space - showed it had been well past the time Elvis was supposed to be on stage.

“But, I don’t want to intrud-”

Elvis cuts off her sentence, “You wouldn’t be, darlin.”

Angel finds herself biting her bottom lip, in a mental battle of her thoughts. An action that does not go unnoticed by Elvis. Angel felt her cheeks blush again at the sound of the name he called her, she was aware it was probably a habit of people from the South, but it made her blush nevertheless.

“I shouldn’t have barged in like that,” She finds herself saying, still standing.

Elvis shrugged, “It’s my fault.”

Angel profusely shook her head, “No, it’s not. I-”

There she is again, biting her bottom lip - a habit that Elvis found became keenly aware of.

“If you keep doin’ that honey, you’ll cause a bleed,” Elvis said, a smirk now on his lips. Yes, Angel did make eye contact with him, but not for long. The eye contact was overwhelming, so she found herself catching her eyes on everywhere else, but him. Which has been proven unsuccessful now, since that comment of his - with that teasing smirk on his lips, was a powerful weapon in making her hold the gaze of his blue eyes again.

She stopped biting her bottom lip, and found herself mumbling under her breath, “What am I doing.”

“Sit with me. Please.” Elvis said, his tone soft.

“But-”

“Are you in a hurry, darlin?”

A question, loaded with the hopes of a specific response. Elvis was aware that they were likely searching endlessly for him, hands probably in their hair in distress, but he could not leave. Not yet. Jerry knows. Knows where he is, even if Elvis did pull out a lie about the reason why he needed to ‘step out’ for a while and not be where he needs to be.

Words were caught in Angel’s throat, “Yes. No. Yes,” Upon seeing the amused grin on Elvis’ face, she sighed and attempted to clarify herself, “I mean, I was - I’m here to see your show.”

There it was. The very reason why she could not know the truth behind why he was here, and not out there now. She is a fan, and for his fans - telling the truth would be shattering something in them. He could never do that to them.

Elvis hummed, “I know what you’re thinkin’, I’ll tell you.”

Angel somehow found herself sitting back down. Slowly. Of course, it would’ve been smarter if she just left. But there is a curious part of her, the part that wanted to know why Elvis Presley was in a supply closet when he was supposed to be on stage by now. Even more so, why his infamous entourage was not in sight.

Having her at the same eye level as him, Elvis swore he felt his breath caught in his throat and a distant knock of the heart within his body.

“You must be thinkin’ why’s that fool hiding in a supply closet?” Elvis said, chuckling a little. But also realizing that he said the word ‘hiding’ implies a surface of the truth. The truth that he told himself he would never reveal to her. But he just did, even if it was a tiny particle of the truth, and he did it subconsciously. With no control at all, as if his mind wanted her to learn it. Somehow.

And he very well knew that Angel caught wind of the word.

She did not know what to say, so Elvis continued.

Elvis ran his hand through his hair and sighed deeply, “I lost one of my rings. I was gonna ask the cleaning staff who was in here, thought she was ‘cus the door was open. But nah, no one was in here. Only me,” He then let out a laugh, a laugh that somehow sounded difficult to let out.

Only me and my foolish self. Elvis thought to himself.

Angel found the sound of that laugh to be quite forceful, a habit that was similar to what she did when conversing with her relatives when asked about certain subjects at family gatherings. She knew that kind of laugh too well, heck, she was the expert in it. Knew it well enough to know that the explanation Elvis just gave her, held no truth in it at all. Except for the last part. That she was sure of.

“Did you find it?” She asked instead, despite somehow having a feeling that he was throwing out an elaborate story of this ring.

Elvis shook his head in an attempt to keep that crooked grin on his lips, somehow looking strained - Angel thought to herself.

“No, I haven’t. I-”

It was Angel’s turn to interrupt this time.

“My name is Angel.” She found herself blurting this, not out of randomness, but because she somehow could feel he was sharing something personal with her when she hadn’t even told him her name yet. It was unbalanced. She knew him, well the image of him, and then now sharing this information with her - she had to tell him her name. She owed him that.

Elvis paused. He couldn’t help but. Of course, it is. There could not be any other name for her out there in the universe, it is the only name that belongs to her. It belongs to her.

“I thought it was only fair I told you my name. It’s not simple to be sharing this information with me, a stranger, Mr Presley.”

Heck, Angel could not even comprehend why he chose to share this with her, or why he wanted her to stay and sit with him for a while.

Elvis nodded, “Angel.” He said as if testing the way her name rolled off his tongue. Something was blissfully enchanting but illicit about the way he said her name, which sent a trickle of warmth through her body and locked her breath for just a second.

“It suits you very much,” Elvis said honestly because it truly did.

“Thank you, Mr Presley.”

Elvis shook his head, “Just ‘Elvis.’ Mr Presley is my father.” A wide smile overtook his face, an actual smile that Angel knew was genuine. She just did.

Angel nodded sheepishly and somehow found herself smiling, a contagious effect from him.

A sight that Elvis couldn’t help but think that he was possibly in a deep slumber, a daydream of some kind that involved this mesmerizing being with the face of heaven sent and the name to suit it. And now that smile of hers, a smile that dares to rival the morning sun. Not that Elvis saw much of the daytime, but if he did, he was pretty certain that the young woman in front of him could easily overshadow it.

Elvis paused then from drinking in her existence when he saw the frown on her face and her hazel eyes of hers pooling with a sense of sadness.

Damn it. She must be thinking ‘bout the show. I’ve disappointed her, she’s here tonight to see me perform. Not this. Elvis thought.

“I’ll be out on stage soon, don’t worry ‘bout it, Angel.” Elvis says, as if sensing that was what Angel was thinking.

But Elvis was wrong. He’s not even remotely close to guessing what she must be thinking.

Angel does not know why she has not noticed. Surely, it must be the shock of the strange situation that must’ve made her not realize. Not realize that Elvis Presley was profusely sweating and that made his raven hair stick to his pale skin. Angel was no medical expert, but it was the kind of pale that called for rest and a good break. It wouldn’t even make sense why he was sweating when he had not stepped foot on stage yet. Even more so, the way his chest would rise and fall at an abnormal rate.

Perhaps also the reason why he has been sitting down the entire time.

Elvis Presley looked tired.

She pulled out a handkerchief from her bag, an action that caused an eyebrow to quirk from Elvis.

The realization of how. . . vulnerable he looked. It pinched her heart in a way that made her ask the next question, forgetting momentarily that they had only merely met each other a few moments ago.

“Can I. . . ?” She gestured at his face, and somehow Elvis understood.

Somehow in that split second of her sad, hazel eyes meeting his blue eyes - Elvis knew that Angel saw behind it all. Behind the facade. That the veil of protection he put over the truth and the crafted lie - has now dropped, revealing him. Revealing that he is everything but fine. Elvis Presley crafted his public persona in such a masterful way, to the degree that people would not even notice the energy and shine he once had, was slowly fading away.

But Angel did.

And so, with her question, Elvis nodded. Angel put herself closer to him and pulled her knees underneath her as she sat down, so she would be sat on her heels. Elvis closed his eyes, as Angel neared him with the handkerchief in her hand as she slowly, but surely was wiping the sweat from his face. The closer proximity to her made Elvis naturally inhale her scent, she smelled of vanilla and a hint of what smelled like rose oil. A combination that was sweet, but playful. A tease to his senses. Elvis dared to open his eyes again, meeting her hazel eyes. Angel felt herself tense at the intense gaze of his eyes, as she tried to concentrate on the task at hand. The feeling of the cloth wiping the sweat on his face away was not much of an effect compared to the gentleness with which Angel did this. The genuine concentration, and worry in her knotted forehead made his heart sore and trip simultaneously.

She instinctively put the back of her hand on his forehead, as if realizing that she may be overstepping she withdrew her hand back like a flash of lightning. But Elvis was quick to reach for her, his hand enclosed around his wrist.

“It’s okay, honey.”

He let go and she reluctantly, but with Elvis’ nod, touched his forehead with the back of her hand once again.

“Mr. Pre- Elvis, you are burning up.” She said, her tone not even hiding the worry swimming in it.

Angel finds herself looking around and grabbing her bag, “I don’t, I thought I had a bottle of water or something. I don’t know. Sorry.” She said, oblivious to the smile on Elvis’ face as she rummaged through her bag.

Despite feeling the fatigue build up in him again, he found himself smiling at her.

“Say it again.” He said, despite breathing deeply.

Angel was puzzled, “Huh?”

“My name, say it again.” He wanted to desperately hear her say it again, a sound that was beautiful and was the opposite of the horrifying state that he felt his body being engulfed in.

A saving grace.

“Elvis, “ She sighed, “I know I’m in no position to tell you what to do, but you are not well. You need to rest.” She said honestly, gone was the timidness beforehand, and in its place was a woman running in a spiral of worry.

Worry for him, and it was a sight that Elvis had not seen in a long time.

Elvis shook his head, “I’m fine. I need to perform. ” He said, almost mumbling his words.

“You are not well for it. People will understand.” Angel found herself saying.

“Will you understand?” He asked.

“Of course. Any of your fans will.” She said with an encouraging nod.

Angel waited years to see him perform live, and if that first performance happened to be when he was feeling like this, she couldn’t watch him. Can’t let it happen. Heck, she’ll wait years even - she’ll wait till he is better enough to perform.

“Not the Colonel.” He responds, a sad smile on his lips.

Angel assumed this must be his manager, remembering his face and the name of newspaper pages. What kind of person, let alone manager - would let him perform like this?

“It’s too hot here, you need to be someplace else,” Angel said, knowing that the supply closet was not the appropriate place for him to rest properly, “Does anyone know that you are here? How do I get ahold of them?”

She was in full-on panic mode now and leaped up onto her feet. Elvis sprung his arm forward and grabbed hold of her hand, “Angel, don’t leave. Please.” The tone of his voice was void of the confidence and teasing from moments prior, in place was the pleading voice that was filled with fear. True fear. A fear that she would leave him like this.

She shook her head quickly, “No, no. I-I just was thinking how to get you help.”

Angel is smart enough to know that she could not just waltz out of here, and find a helpful passerby because it is not just anyone she is getting help for. Elvis Presley. Somehow, she just knew that he wouldn’t want his vulnerable state to be known to any other person than the ones who work for him and know him.

She was just a fan. But somehow through a happenstance of naturality or not, she saw right through him - saw right through the armor that he lets dazzle everyone else. And even if he realized that she stepped over that veil - he let her. Let Angel walk right through it.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like now, as if it is the most natural thing in the world to have her hand in his. An action that was so quick, but she swore sent a flicker of something through her bloodstream.

And just in time, there was a knock on the door - a look exchanged between both of them. But a breath of relief escaped them simultaneously as it was the familiar face of Jerry Schilling who walked through and shut the door behind him. Angel knew that he worked for Elvis, and saw him in that one article of Elvis’ entourage being labeled ‘The Memphis Mafia.’

So, she was glad that a stroke of luck hit, as her prayers were answered. Because otherwise she really did not know what to do.

Jerry Schilling’s eyes found Elvis’ and scanned the state that his friend/boss was in, before shifting his gaze to the woman who was standing up and whose hand Elvis gripped tightly. As if signaling to help him, Jerry nodded and advanced towards Elvis, at the same time Angel dropped her hand from Elvis.

“Come on, E. Let’s go.” Jerry said, but Elvis’ gaze was on the black-haired beauty who was currently getting her bag off the floor. His eyelids were half-closed.

She turned with the handkerchief in her hand and planned to hand this to him, to let him keep it. But found him tugging her hand again, closer to him.

“Stay.” He said.

“I-”

Angel turned to look at Jerry Schilling as if silently asking for his opinion on this.

“I’ll go if she goes with me,” Elvis said, almost mumbling his words.

Jerry Schilling then nods to her.

Angel sighed, not quite sure how and why this is happening all of a sudden. The probability of their meeting, and now with Elvis’ reluctancy to go with someone who could help him. Someone who he knows far more than her, her who was a mere stranger not that long ago. She tried to make sense of and understand why Elvis would want her to be there when he would have more than enough people around him soon. People who knew him personally, and who will help him.

She could not wrap her head around it at all.

But with the ticking of the clock on the wall, and Elvis seeming to not have any plans to get up from his spot yet, she realized that he was waiting for her to say something.

“Okay.” Angel said.

Kismet. Kismet. Perform. Mask. facade. My name. Your name. Angel. Pale. The truth. Elvis. Elvis. Angel. If she goes. Kismet. Kismet.

#elvis fic #elvis presley #angst #fluff #elvis x original female character #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #kismet kismet #part 2

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harrystylesslutt · 1 year ago

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A serene escape

Part 1 of seaside serendipity

warnings: just fluff for now

The quaint coastal town of Seaside Haven was your personal paradise. Its narrow cobbled streets, lined with charming cottages and the alluring scent of the ocean breeze, made it the perfect summer escape. The café by the beach, "Seashells & Coffee," was your haven of tranquility. It was here that you had spent several summers working, basking in the warmth of the locals and the cool embrace of the sea.

The sun rose lazily over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold as you stepped into the café. The day held the promise of new adventures, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. The morning rush hadn't begun yet, giving you a moment to prepare the cafe for the day ahead.

As you arranged freshly baked pastries in the display case, you couldn't help but glance out the window, captivated by the waves crashing against the shore. Lost in thought, you nearly jumped when a soft voice interrupted your reverie.

"Excuse me, is this place open?"

You turned to find a tall, curly-haired stranger standing at the entrance. His emerald eyes sparkled with curiosity, and the smile on his lips was enough to make your heart skip a beat. He had an aura of mystery and charm that immediately intrigued you.

"Yes, we're open!" you replied with your normal cheerful tone, despite the unexpected flutters in your stomach. "Welcome to Seashells & Coffee."

He stepped inside, and you noticed a hint of sea salt in his dark, tousled hair. "Thank you," he said, a faint British accent adding to his allure. "This place has such a lovely vibe."

"Thank you," you repeated, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink under his warm gaze. "Would you like a seat by the window? It offers the best view."

"That sounds perfect," he said, a playful yet reserved glint in his eyes.

You led him to a cozy corner by the window, where he took a seat with a small smile. As you handed him a menu, your fingers brushed against his, causing an electrifying sensation to run through your veins. You quickly withdrew your hand, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"I'm Harry, by the way," he introduced himself, his smile never fading.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm YN," you replied, your heart pounding in your chest. It wasn't like you never got any good looking customers, you did, but you've always managed to keep your cool since most of them had a cold vibe surrounding them. There was just something about this stranger that made you intrigued to know more, was it his manners? the way he held eye contact? or the way his eyes kept subtly glancing down at your lips?

Over the next few hours, few customers went in and out, all of them seeming to be in too much of a hurry to sit down on one of the pink leather couches. You could feel the eyes of the stranger on you every now and then, there was some kind of tension knowing you and him were the only two people in the shop. However he did not miss trying to make his presence noticeable, since he was making his way back and forth from where you were working, getting new pastries to try while leaving little appreciation comments every now and then.

As the afternoon sun bathed the café in golden light, Harry was on one of his missions to get a new pastry, you somehow managed to end up engrossed in a conversation with him. He was well-traveled and had an air of wisdom beyond his years. He shared stories of his adventures, and you told him about the town's history and hidden gems, since he showed you a strong interest towards the hidden tales of the town. The more you talked, the more you felt an unspoken connection between you two, as if you had known each other for much longer than just a few hours.

After paying his bill, Harry leaned closer, his eyes locked with yours. "Thank you YN, I couldn't think of a better way to start my vacation; you really do know the art of pastries well” He chuckled.

You blushed at his compliment, feeling the undeniable chemistry between you. "Thank you Harry, although I am a bit thrown off by your hatred for strawberries, I don't think it's acceptable really.”

“Ah there it is, you let me off too easily earlier, I knew you were secretly judging my impeccable taste” He replied. You found yourself cheekily laughing at his teasing words “If anything it is anything but impeccable. The fact that you won't try any strawberry pastries is cruel! You know that you’d find a newly found love for them but you’re in denial so it’s fine it'll take you a while to cave in” Your playful banter goes on for a while until Harry really has to go but not before suggesting subtly his next visit, and that alone leaves u with flutters in your stomach.

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The next day, as the sun painted the sky in a soft pastel palette, you found yourself eagerly anticipating Harry's return to Seashells & Coffee. The memory of your long conversation from the previous day had lingered in your mind, leaving you with a sense of excitement and nervousness about seeing him again.

Just as the clock struck ten, the familiar chime of the doorbell signaled his arrival. Harry stepped in with that same charming smile that made your heart skip a beat. It was as if he brought the sunshine with him, brightening the entire café with his presence.

"Good morning, YN," he greeted, his eyes locking onto yours as if you were the only one in the room.

"Morning, Harry," you replied with a warm smile, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

He took a seat by the window once more, and you couldn't help but notice the small details that made him uniquely Harry—the way his curls fell just right, the subtle crinkles near his eyes when he smiled, and the way he fidgeted with the menu, pretending to be undecided.

"You're back for another adventure at Seashells & Coffee?" you asked playfully, remembering his words from yesterday.

Harry chuckled. "Absolutely. It's the best place to be."

As the day went on, your playful banter continued. You brought back your criticism towards his peculiar dislike for strawberries, which amused you to no end. "You're missing out on the best summer treat, Harry," you teased, holding up a plump, ripe strawberry between your fingers.

"I know, I know," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I told you,It's just one of those things I can't seem to enjoy."

Determined to change his mind, you decided to take matters into your own hands. During a short break, you disappeared into the kitchen, whipping up a special strawberry dessert just for him. You carefully crafted a delicious strawberry shortcake with layers of sponge, fresh strawberries, and a dollop of whipped cream on top.

Returning to his table, you placed the dessert before him with a flourish. "Now, this is the ultimate test. Give it a try."

Harry raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. "You're on."

He took a hesitant bite, and you watched nervously, hoping that your creation would win him over. His eyes widened in surprise, and a smile broke out on his face.

"Wow, this is amazing," he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight. "You might have just done the impossible and changed my opinion on strawberries."

You couldn't help but beam with pride at his reaction. "I told you they're delicious! It's like a burst of summer in every bite."

As the day continued, you and Harry spent more time together, talking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company. The bond between you grew stronger with every shared moment. You felt a sense of comfort and ease around him, as if you had found someone who truly understood you.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the coastal town, Harry hesitated before speaking. "Would you like to take a walk on the beach with me?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his invitation, and you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'd love to."

Closing the shop, you strolled along the shoreline, the waves gently caressing the sand beneath your feet. The sound of the ocean served as a soothing backdrop to your conversation. As you and Harry walked along the beach, the cool ocean breeze caressed your skin, creating a sense of serenity around you. The waves lapped gently against the shore, and the distant cries of seagulls added to the tranquil atmosphere.

Harry's curiosity got the best of him, and he couldn't help but ask about the peculiar events that had occurred in the town. "You mentioned yesterday that this place has a magical charm and stories waiting to be written. Are there any particular stories or events that stand out?"

You smiled, appreciating his interest in the town's history. "Oh, definitely! Seaside Haven has a rich history filled with mysteries and legends. One of the most famous stories is about an old lighthouse that sits atop the cliffs."

Intrigued, Harry leaned in, eager to hear more. "Tell me about it."

"Legend has it that the lighthouse was built centuries ago by a lonesome sailor," you began, the tales of old coming to life in your words. "He fell deeply in love with a local woman, but their love was forbidden by her overprotective family. Heartbroken and desperate, he built the lighthouse as a beacon of hope, hoping it would guide him back to her."

Harry's eyes sparkled with fascination. "Did it work?"

"Well," you continued with a playful grin, "that's the mystery. Some say that on clear, moonlit nights, you can see a ghostly figure of a man gazing out to sea from the top of the lighthouse. Locals call him the 'Lover's Light.'"

"That's both beautiful and haunting," Harry mused, captivated by the romantic lore.

As you walked further, you shared more stories—the shipwrecks that dotted the coastline, the hidden caves said to be treasure troves, and the annual beach bonfire festival that brought the entire town together. Harry listened with genuine interest, asking questions and adding his own insights.

He paused for a moment, gazing out at the vast ocean before turning back to you. "It's incredible how stories and history shape a place. It's like every corner of this town has a tale to tell."

"It truly does," you agreed, feeling a deep connection forming between you two as you shared these tales. "And it's those stories that make this town so special, giving it a sense of magic and wonder."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow across the sky, you both continued your leisurely stroll along the beach. The stories of the town, the sound of the waves, and the connection between you and Harry created an enchanting moment—one that would forever be etched in the sands of your summer paradise.

-------

Harry walked back to his rented cottage, his mind swirling with thoughts of YN. The way she spoke about the town's history with such passion, the playful glint in her eyes when she teased him about strawberries, and the warmth of her smile—it all left an indelible impression on him. He couldn't deny how drawn he felt to her, but he also knew that he was just passing through this picturesque town for a different reason. .

"Keep it together, Harry," he mumbled to himself as he entered the cozy living room. He settled down on the worn-out couch, trying to focus on the laptop in front of him. But every time he tried to concentrate on his work, thoughts of YN crept back into his mind.

He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts. "You can't get distracted now," he reminded himself sternly, his fingers tapping on the keyboard. He had come to Seaside Haven for a specific goal, he reminded himself.

As he typed, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of suspicion lingering in the back of his mind. It was as if fate had led him to YN, and he couldn't understand why he was so taken by her. He had met plenty of people during his travels, but there was something about her that felt different—like she held a key to a world of wonder he had yet to discover.

Pushing the thoughts away, Harry focused on his work once more. He typed away, the soft tapping of the keys echoing in the quiet room. But try as he might, his mind kept wandering back to YN the enchanting girl he had met at the café.

"Get a grip, Harry," he scolded himself, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. He couldn't afford to let his emotions get the best of him. After all, he was just a visitor with a mission in Seaside Haven, and he didn't know how long he would stay.

With a determined sigh, he finally managed to immerse himself in his writing. But even as the words flowed from his fingers, he couldn't shake off the image of YN's smile and the feeling of her hand in his. It was as if the town itself conspired to keep him captivated, weaving its magic around him and YN.

Harry found it useless to try to keep himself concentrated while she clouded his mind, so he gives up, saving the document on his laptop and closing all the tabs for his research . He closed the lid, feeling a mix of confusion and fascination. "You're being silly," he whispered to himself, trying to dispel the enchantment that surrounded him.

But as he lay in bed that night, the image of YN stayed with him, her presence lingering like a sweet summer breeze. And in that moment, he knew that Seaside Haven had more in store for him than he had ever anticipated. Perhaps it wasn't just a town for a summer escape, with a good story—it could be the place where he found something he never knew he was looking for.

To be continued...

#harrystylesslutt #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fiction #harrystyles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #love on tour #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fandom

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misseffect · 10 months ago

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7 snippets, 7 mutuals

Thanks for the tag @otemporanerys!

Tagging a lot of people who have already been tagged: @diaphanouso @helila @dispatchwithlove @kalliesa @angry-jager @dwarrowdams @serendipitys-teapot

All of these are from my Mass Effect F1 AU: Flashpoints

+++

Singapore Shower

One moment Garrus is holding her by the arms, water rolling over his shoulders – there's a knotted look on his face; his mouth is moving but no sound is coming out, which is weird – and the next she's lying on her back on the shower room floor.

"Shepard? Hey – c'mon."

Garrus is kneeling beside her, pinching her arm gently, holding her legs in the air with his shoulder. She feels heavy, like her bones are full of syrup, and the thumping behind her eyes is keeping time with the fuzz crowding her vision.

"Shit."

"It's alright." He sounds further away than he should, and so does the water still beating down on his back. "You passed out for a second, that's all."

+++

Shepard Does An AMA

probinguranus6969 - Would you rather fight 20 duck-sized Jokers or 1 Joker-sized duck?

janeshepard54 - I know your reddit handle joker

probinguranus6969 - damn it

+++

FaceTime Antics

She fishes another biscuit out of the packet while Garrus props his phone up on the side and heaves his suitcase onto the bed. It’s a nice enough room from what little she can see: old-fashioned, like the rest of the place, but in a plush, cared-for sort of way.

“Oh, by the way–” Crunch. “–you don’t happen to know how the dark web works, do you?”

He unzips the case and flips the lid. “Not really. Why?”

“I got called up for drug testing at Paul Ricard and my sample went missing,” she says, chewing glumly. “Joker’s winding me up about it; thinks someone’s selling vials of my piss on the black market.”

+++

Normal Thoughts To Have About Your Bestie's Car

The second he starts to ask the car for more, everything changes.

It feels familiar – in fundamentals, sure, in throttle and steering output – but there’s something else, too. It’s more pliable than the Hierarchy car, more predictable than anything Omega or Archangel could give him; it's unlike anything he’s even driven, but somehow he knows it. Like catching a familiar smell in a place you've never visited.

And then it hits him.

It's not the car. It's her.

He knows Shepard's driving style almost as well as his own – reactive and twitchy, nose-heavy, late-braking, all faith and guts – and this thing lives and breathes it. It takes everything he's got to give, the good and the bad, and amplifies it tenfold. It grins and says c’mon, I dare you.

It’s not just a car designed with her in mind. It’s like wearing her clothes.

+++

Not To Be Dramatic But I Would Die For Mr Blobby

Shepard rounds the corner into the kitchen to find Mr Blobby loitering by the back door like a pair of cow-coloured slippers.

“He’s in a time-out," Hannah calls through the open window, paintbrush in hand.

“Aww, Blob.”

Mr Blobby makes a mournful rrrr sound. There’s a dab of brown paint on the end of his tail.

+++

Shepard Has PTSD Probably

It's not a nightmare really. Sure, it wakes her up every few hours, sweaty and unrested, and when she closes her eyes again, it drops her right back where she left off, but it's not scary. She's not being hunted or chased. She's not standing at the front of class with no clothes on. Nobody's dying.

Shepard's driving a road car on suburban streets - shifting, nebulous streets; faintly European but also faintly not - and somewhere in the distance, there's a fire.

There's a fire and she has to reach it.

She can see a column of black smoke in the distance, catch the odd lick of orange between buildings, but every turn she takes feels wrong and by the time she doubles back, the smoke isn't where she thought it was. It's in her rearview mirror, or out to her left when it was on her right. Sometimes a fire engine blasts past her in the opposite direction, the wailing siren fading before she can follow.

+++

Everybody Hates Conrad

Mathematically Shepard could win the Championship as early as Japan, five races before the end of the season, and it shows. Media seems to come naturally to her in a way it never has to him, but still; he’s never seen her so relaxed this early in the year. Al’Jilani can’t draw her in with pointed questions about Anderson giving her an easy ride and she doesn’t even bother taking a bite out of Conrad Verner.

“Any comment on rekindling your relationship with Thane Krios?” he asks, his big square face expectant.

Shepard scratches under her chin. “Why am I always the last person to find out who I’m dating?”

There’s a ripple of laughter. Emily is checking her watch and people are starting to shuffle their belongings around.

“Are you going to answer the question?” Conrad calls, but by then there’s enough ambient noise for everyone to plausibly ignore him.

#my fic #flashpoints #realised the other week that Singapore Shower can't happen in Singapore bcs it's too late in the race calendar :')#so i'll have to give somewhere else a heatwave instead #mr blobby is my favourite npc

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stargazer-liz · 4 months ago

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Serendipity (Poe Dameron x Original Female Character) Chapter II: The Resistance

Masterlist

The Planet D'Qar, Outer Rim, 34 ABY

They hadn't been long in hyperspace when the questions started. Apparently, Poe couldn't keep his mouth shut for long.

"So, you said you had lots of piloting experience. What exactly did you do?"

Sora supposed it wouldn't hurt giving him some answers. After all, they kind of were on the same side. Whilst she might not have been a Resistance member, she certainly didn't support the First Order either. Heck, if they knew she was alive, she'd probably get a bounty put on her head.

"I am...was a smuggler," she said, leaning back into her chair. Poe kept his gaze locked on her, the ship navigating on auto-pilot during their hyperspace journey to D'Qar. He had turned his seat towards her and made himself comfortable. "We were a tiny crew of two and had a nice ship. We traveled all around the galaxy to look for jobs and it kept us pretty busy."

Poe raised one brow. "A smuggler, huh? Didn't expect that. But I guess that's how you learned to fight."

"It comes with the job." She shrugged her shoulders, fingers drawing imaginary patterns on her trousers. "A smuggler who can't land a good punch or knows how to fire a blaster is as good as dead."

"Can't disagree. But how did you end up on Jakku then? What happened to your crew and ship?"

Sora didn't want to go into detail, not yet. Besides, they were on a mission and would part ways again afterwards. He didn't have to know everything about her. "Two years ago, our last job...escalated and we were forced to split up. My crewmate managed to escape but I wasn't so lucky. Honestly, I don't know how I ended up on Jakku. One second, I was unconscious and suddenly, I woke up in the desert of Jakku in an escape pod where Rey found me. That's all I know."

A look of sympathy flashed across the pilot's face. "I'm sorry. And out of all the places you could have landed, it just had to be Jakku."

She huffed. "Yeah, I guess someone out there really hates me. Do you know how hard it was to look at Unkar's ugly face everyday and not being able to punch him? Everyone on that planet depends on him and it made me sick."

"Saw him for the first time today and all I wanted to do was punch him. So I get your feelings, princess."

There it was again, that damned nickname leaving his tongue so easily. Maybe this was just the way he talked to every woman. The name should annoy her way more than it actually did. Somehow, it made it easier for her to converse with him. It was more like talking to a long lost friend than a total stranger, something she appreciated after two years of basically speaking to no other human apart from Rey.

"Why didn't you steal this ship earlier though?" Poe sounded genuinely baffled, as if he really couldn't believe why she had stayed so long when she could have left at any moment.

"And leave Rey behind, after everything she did for me?" Sora shook her head, knowing that she had never even been tempted. "No way. Never. I knew I had to wait until she was ready to leave her home."

Poe hummed, smiling at her. "A loyal friend. You know, we could use someone like you. The Resistance, I mean. You're a pilot, you can fight and you're loyal to your cause. The general would be honored to have you on her team."

"Look, all I want is to make sure Rey is safe and gets back home unharmed. That's it." Deep down, she knew it was only partly true.

"Alright, I understand," the pilot responded, though not quite believing her, and leaned forward in his seat, elbows pressing into his thighs as he rested his chin on his hands. "Just...just know the offer still stands, in case you change your mind."

Sora nodded and raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. "And what about you? Have you always been a pilot for the Resistance?"

Poe chuckled. "Believe it or not, I once was a smuggler too. A part of the Spice Runners on Kijimi, actually." He looked and feigned anger when she laughed at him. "Hey, that's not funny."

"Wait! Don't tell me you're the man Zorri hates so much."

Straightening his back again, the pilot looked at her in disbelief. "You know Zorri?"

Sora nodded, letting out another laugh. "Met her once or twice during a job. One time, we got drunk and she was raging about a man who had abandoned her and the gang. Let me give you an advise: You better not step foot on Kijimi ever again. She seemed ready to tear you to shreds."

"Thanks for the heads up. Not that I plan on ever going back there again anyways."

"How did you manage to escape the First Order? Beebee-Ate told me that you had been captured by them, so how did you make it back to Jakku?" The question had bothered Sora the whole day. Surely, they wouldn't have let a Resistance member walk out of their front door.

"Now, that's a crazy story. A stormtrooper helped me escape. We stole a TIE Fighter together and were shot down before we could land safely."

For someone who knew a former stormtrooper herself, it wasn't actually that crazy. A rare coincidence but not entirely unbelievable. But the story was piercing itself together in her mind like a solved puzzle. "So he was the Finn you were looking for when I found you?"

Poe nodded, smiling sadly. "He was a great guy."

Sora felt the need to give him some hope. The sad look just didn't fit him. "You know, there's a chance he's with Rey and BeeBee-Ate. I mean, I can't think of any man on Jakku that she would willingly leave with. Logically, it has to be an outsider. And if you survived the crash, so could he."

Her words seemed to work. Poe's sad smile vanished slowly, turning into a hopeful expression. "You're right. It makes sense. We'll meet him again soon then," he said before he changed the topic when he caught her yawning again. "Am I that boring, princess?" The grin on his lips told her he was only joking.

"Sorry," she chuckled weakly, rubbing her eyes. "Ever since I've landed on Jakku, I'm basically always tired. Guess all of that sun and sand really gets to me."

"We won't reach D'Qar in hours." He nodded towards the tiny sleeping quarter behind them. "I could really use some sleep as well. Let's lay down for a bit."

He did indeed look exhausted. Dark rings were prominent underneath his eyes and his skin had grown paler since she had found him. The brown in his eyes was less vibrant and she wondered when he had last slept peacefully. There was no doubt he had endured some kind of torture on the First Order's fleet but since there were no major wounds, she assumed it had been Kylo Ren who had led the interrogation. Invisible to the outside, the wounds in his mind were likely agonizing.

"Sounds fine to me." Pushing herself to her feet and watching him do the same, Sora dragged her body to the sleeping quarters and pressed the button to open the door. Although she really didn't have the energy to climb up the short ladder to lay down, she figured Poe's body deserved some rest. She just hoped the ship would keep flying smoothly because the upper bed had no safety railing and she really didn't want to tumble to the hard ground.

The smuggler left her shoes next to the door and slid out of her jacket, letting it slide to the floor carelessly. Poe slipped off his shoes as well and instantly laid his battered body on the mattress. Sora almost slipped on the ladder when he let out a loud moan. "Oh, this feels amazing. So soft."

Shaking her head to erase the memory of the sound, she had to agree with him. The mattress was much more comfortable than it looked. There were no blankets, not that they needed them anyways. "This is definitely better than my bed on Jakku," she mumbled, her eyes already closing as her heartbeat slowed down to a calm, steady rhythm. "Good night, Poe." Her voice was barely audible and she doubted he had even heard it.

"Good night, princess." Poe's whisper was met with no response for Sora was already fast asleep.

It was the best rest she had had in two years.

*****

Poe had woken up first, rattled awake as the ship left hyperspace. They had slept for a whole night and day, the longest sleep he had had in years. Maker, their bodies and minds had to have been extremely tired, he assumed.

Running a hand through his hair to tame the locks, he quickly walked towards the cockpit to shut off the alarm before it could even ring. Through the front window, he could see the green round mass of D'Qar in front of them, its planetary ring casting shadows on the surface.

Poe couldn't really believe how lucky he had gotten to be able to see it again. If he hadn't met Finn, he'd be dead by now. And if Sora hadn't found him, who knew how long it would have taken him to find a way to reach the Resistance's base. Thanks to Sora and her friend, BeeBee-Ate was safe and sound as well. Not currently within his reach, but still safe which was all that mattered. Well, hopefully. If what she had said was right, they were on their way to D'Qar as well.

Thinking of her, Poe went back to the sleeping quarters where Sora was still resting. The pilot took a moment to admire her. Asleep and relaxed, she looked at peace, a foreign look on her. It suited her, he noted. There was a gentle rose-coloured shine on her cheeks, as if her body regained all of the energy life on Jakku had stolen from her in the last two years at once. Her braid had become partly undone, long strands of black hair framing her face.

She was beautiful, he had already noticed that the moment his eyes had opened back on Jakku. Her delicate face had been the first thing he had looked at, framed by the glazing sun behind her. It had made her look almost otherworldly, the smooth, blemish free skin and the rosy lips a stark contrast against the ruth planet.

Poe wasn't lying when he had told her the Resistance needed people like her. In fact, she would be a perfect addition, with her past and her abilities. However, a tiny (okay, a big), selfish part of his brain wanted her to stay just so he could get to know her better. He liked talking to her, liked their small banter. She was easy to be around and it felt as if he had known her far longer than just a day.

Before he could feel like a creep, Poe stepped closer to the bed to put his hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake. "Sora, wake up. We've made it."

She stirred awake slowly, her eyes taking a moment to get used to the light again. Even though her appearance was clearly screaming 'I just woke up, give me a moment', she seemed wide awake. "I feel like a whole new being," she said, hopping out of bed to stretch her arms and legs. Her bones protested with a couple of popping noises. "You know what would be perfect now? A shower and fresh clothes."

Poe watched her with a smile, the skin under his eyes creasing slightly. Truthfully, he couldn't wait to do the same. "Your wish is my command, princess. I'll make sure that's the first thing you get as soon as we're at the base."

"Please tell me you have running water down there."

The pilot looked almost offended. "Of course. And guess what, it's hot water."

At the thought of the first hot shower she would have in two years, Sora grinned widely. "I could kiss you right now, Poe."

For a second, his eyes widened and he inhaled sharply, lips pulling into a grin. Then he saw the look on her face and his shoulders sacked instantly, the corners of his mouth lowering again. "You're joking, aren't you?"

"Obviously."

*****

D'Qar was a beautiful planet. Instead of beige and grey, everywhere she looked she saw nothing but green as the jungle drew closer, spreading all around them. They flew over waterfalls and lush fields of flowers. Sora struggled to take it all in. The sun was slowly setting, turning the sky into a beautiful canvas of various colors. Compared to the lackluster scenery of Jakku, this was sensory overload. The only planet she had visited that was even more beautiful was Naboo.

"It's stunning, isn't it?" Poe's attention was focused on safely landing the ship, yet he couldn't resist letting his eyes wander over to her every now and then. She looked so excited and for a brief moment, he thought that maybe his not so successful mission had gone way better than he had thought. Would she have ever left Jakku if it hadn't been for BeeBee-Ate and him? He didn't know her well-enough to guess the answer.

"They're probably on high alert. The ship's communication system is broken, so I can't inform them it's me. It's better to let them see me first, then they'll know you're not a threat."

Sora agreed without a complaint. "Sure."

She wondered whether Rey had already arrived before them. What if she was already on her way back to Jakku? What if something had happened to her?

The Starfighter began its descend onto one of the landing platforms. Sora could see different X-Wings and hangers lined up along a long runway, tucked away underneath the greenery. Grass and bushes covered everything, effectively hiding them from curious eyes on the horizon. Smaller and bigger Satellites were scattered on the grass, crates of various sizes were tugged into every corner.

Quite a few people were running around, some wearing bright orange pilot suits. And every single one of them was gazing at their spacecraft, weapons ready to be fired, making Sora feel a bit uncomfortable.

"Feels good to be back," Poe admitted happily, his smile so bright it almost blinded her.

Their landing was incredibly soft, further proof of his outstanding flying abilities. The impact was nothing but a gentle tap against her feet. Poe was out of his chair before she could even blink, the ramp of the ship already lowering as she joined his side.

Sora knew she looked like a mess. Her braid wasn't really a braid anymore with multiple strands of hair now framing her face. The clothes she wore were dirty and wrinkled and probably reeked of sweat. Well, at least it would show these people that she had gone through some trouble to bring their beloved pilot back to them. But she really wanted that shower as soon as possible.

"Guys, don't shot! It's me," Poe announced, jogging down the ramp and jumping down the last bit. The Resistance members lowered their guns, immediately breaking into a cheer as they swarmed around the pilot. Hugs and friendly pats on the back were exchanged.

It was obvious the pilot was very well liked and respected. No one had even noticed her leaving the ship. Everyone was too preoccupied with Poe, wanting to hear his story. She used the time to let her gaze wander over the base. She ship's hanger seemed to be the only part above ground. Everything else was located underground where it was less likely to be detected, she supposed.

"And who might you be, my dear?"

The question brought her out of her daze and her eyes snapped to where it had come from. An elderly woman was smiling at her, grey hair braided and tied in a circle on top of her head. She wore a loose beige bodysuit, fastened with a golden belt underneath her chest and a burgundy colored vest on top.

"You must be general Leia Organa," Sora thought out loud, realizing it too late.

But Leia only laughed softly. "Leia is just fine." She took one look towards Poe who was still busy catching up with his friends and colleagues, then she pointed her hand towards the path leading away from the hangar. "Would you mind taking a walk with me?"

Sora knew if there was one person she could trust here, apart from Poe, it was Leia. "Of course not." Side by side, they walked away from the mass of people, leaving the loud chatter behind. "I'm Sora Park, by the way."

"Thank you for bringing our best pilot back, Sora. We really appreciate it." Leia replied and led her through one of the hangers. A few people stared at the smuggler in curiosity, some even nodded at her in greetings. No one seemed to view her as a threat, causing her body and mind to relax. "May I ask, how did you meet him?"

"I found him in the desert on Jakku. Well, actually I found his droid first"

"And yet Beebee-Ate is not with you?" Leia send her a questioning look but if there was any judgement or disappointment towards her, it was well hidden.

Sora shook her head, her eyes taking in as much as they could. "No, but he is with a friend who I'm sure will bring him back safely as well."

"Very well. If Poe trusts you, then I trust you as well," the general responded, leading her down a staircase. "You should be aware now that you know the location of our base, I expect you to keep it a secret. It is our top priority that the First Order stays in the dark, for the safety of our people and the whole operation."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of telling the First Order anything. In fact, I plan on staying out of their radar for as long as I can." Sora huffed, remembering the incident on Atrisia two years ago.

Leia could see right through her, a necessary ability required by her position as the leader of the Resistance. Even if she did trust the young woman, she still had to make sure the wasn't a danger to the Resistance in any way. "I suppose you have history with them?"

The smuggler winced, grimacing when the past events played out inside her head like a movie. "You could say that. I was a smuggler. Freed one of their prisoners during a job, a former stormtrooper who was about to be executed. Guess they didn't like that. Oh, and stabbing general Hux probably didn't help either."

Leia's loud laughter startled both her and the workers they walked past. Sora didn't know where exactly they were going but they were somewhere underground. According to the signs on the wall, they had already passed a cafeteria, a kitchen, a conference and a security room. "Oh Maker, how did you manage to get out of that alive?"

"Well, I almost didn't. And they actually think I'm dead. But a stormtrooper saved me and brought me to Jakku. I have no idea who it was but I own them my life. It was Rey who then found me. She's the one who's with BeeBee-Ate."

Leia hummed, processing the information. "It's only further proof that so much more people are willing to stand up against the First Order than they think, even their supposed own members. Most people only need a small push in the right direction to stand up for what they truly think is right."

They stopped in front of one of the doors in the sleeping quarters. Leia entered a code and the door slid open, revealing a small room with a queen sized bed, a tiny desk and a wardrobe. There was another door inside which likely led to the refresher.

"This is yours for however long you like, Sora. You are welcome to stay here. The Resistance could use your help."

"You know, Poe said the same."

A strange glint flashed through Leia's eyes, the corners of her mouth turning up into a knowing smile. "Did he now? Interesting. You can freshen up a bit in here. You look like you need it, dear. In the meantime, I will look for some suitable clothes for you and have them brought to you whilst I speak with Poe."

Sora was thankful for the kindness Leia was showing her. After all, she was just a stranger and had come barging into the Resistance, yet she was welcomed with open arms. And seeing as Rey wasn't here yet, she would gladly take the offer. "Thank you for everything, General."

"No, I am the one who has to thank you, Sora," Leia smiled kindly and walked towards the door. "I'll see you later." The door shut behind her with a soft hiss.

Taking a deep breath, Sora closed her eyes for a whole minute. So much had changed over the course of the last two days. It was almost like her life was once again totally turned around. And this time, she couldn't help but admit that she liked it. It was a good change.

When she stripped herself off her clothes, a tiny pile of sand gathered on the ground. That was definitely something she wouldn't miss as long as she stayed here. After only having seen sand for two years, she was sick of it.

Sora sighed happily as the first drops of warm water hit her head. She took her time in the shower, making sure her hair and skin felt and smelt as good as new. Her muscles were soothed entirely, any small aches she previously had were gone.

Stepping out of a shower, she wrapped one of the surprisingly fluffy towels around her body and used another one to pat her long hair so it wouldn't drip any water. Once she was done, she ran a hand over the mirror above the sink to get rid of the condensed water.

The unusual natural blush on her cheeks surprised her greatly. Fingers gently brushing against them, she took a deep breath. Sora felt good. She felt strangely calm and...hopeful. And she couldn't explain why. It was probably best to simply enjoy it. Who knew how long this feeling would last.

A knock on the door caused her to flinch out of her trance. "Coming," she said, voice loud enough to be heard through the walls. Barefoot, she tip toed to the entrance and opened it. In front of her stood a golden protocol droid who was taller than her. In his hands, he was holding a stack of clothes.

"Hello Miss Park, my name is See-Threepio. General Organa send me to-" The droid cut himself off and promptly turned around. "Oh my, she didn't mention you would be naked. I'm terribly sorry for intruding. I can assure you, I was programmed for etiquette and won't look at you until you're decent."

Sora laughed at the droid's antics. "It's okay, I'm not naked." The towel was indeed a little short but it covered all of the essentials, reaching to the middle of her thighs. "I'm guessing those clothes are for me?"

The droid nodded but refused to look at her. "You're right. General Organa selected them herself. She also told me to wait for you to get dressed and escort you to the cafeteria. I will shut myself down so you can take these clothes from me. I ask you to power me up again once you are ready to go."

Before she could speak up, See-Threepio had already put himself in energy saving mode. Sora stared at the droid, blinking rapidly. Then, she shook her head and quickly grabbed the stacked clothes, laughing quietly.

The protocol droid was not left alone for long. Only seconds after the door had closed behind Sora, Poe walked around the corner. At the sight of a shut-down See-Threepio, his brows creased in confusion. "What the heck," he mumbled to himself, gazing at the silent droid. Whilst it was a nice change to not hear him talk, the pilot was curious, so he powered him back on.

The yellow glow returned to the droid's eyes as he came back to life. And instantly started talking. "Miss Park, I must apologize again. I-...Oh, it's you Master Dameron. I'm terribly sorry but I'm waiting for Miss Park. I was told to escort her to the cafeteria and then-"

"No need, I'll do it," Poe waved him off impatiently. "But why were you shut down?"

See-Threepio was just about to reply when Sora stepped out of her room, eying both the droid and the pilot with a big question mark on her face. "Oh Miss Park, thankfully you're dressed this time. Don't worry, I'll make sure to erase the picture from my memory. Commander Dameron will take over my assignment. I must leave. Should we meet each other again, please make sure to not open the door naked."

"I was not naked," Sora emphasized but the droid was already gone. Embarrassed, she felt warmth spreading across her cheeks. See-Threepio definitely talked too much. And he needed a filter.

Poe crossed his arms on his chest, grinning teasingly at her, one eyebrow raised. "Naked, huh?"

The pilot couldn't resist letting his gaze travel across her body. Freshly showered, her damp hair flowed down to just over her chest in gentle waves. Leia had given her a pair of tight, black trousers, a white top and a dark blue-grayish leather jacket. The outfit suited her incredibly well, hugging her body in just the right places. Poe tried to ignore the hint of jealousy he felt towards the protocol droid who had apparently seen her in much less.

A sigh of annoyance left Sora's mouth. "I was wearing a towel. Not my fault he's so uptight."

Poe laughed. "I think you traumatized him a bit."

"Agreed. He'll probably never talk to me again."

"Hah, trust me, that's impossible. That droid never misses an opportunity to talk."

"Guess I just have to show him more skin then."

Once again, laughter escaped Poe's mouth, trembling through his whole body. "Go ahead, princess. I like seeing him so flustered. And quiet."

He had showered as well, his curls still dripping water. His beige trousers and white button up shirt were clean, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. There were no traces of blood left on him but he had put a small plaster over the cut on his temple.

Suddenly, the pilot closed the distance between them and threw his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. "Come on, I'm starving. Bet you haven't eaten anything good in years. The Resistance has some awesome chefs. You need to try those jogan-fruit cookies. Trust me, you'll get addicted."

At first, Sora's body stiffened at the sudden contact. But Poe's body felt warm and inviting. Besides, it was a friendly gesture and she found herself wanting to enjoy it. So she relaxed against him and let the pilot lead her through the underground base. The smuggler made sure to remember the turns they had made in order to find her way back on her own.

Upon entering the cafeteria through a grand archway, the lack of people sitting at the various tables didn't surprise her. After all, it was already late in the evening and most people were likely about to retire for the night. Quiet chatter could be heard from the tables they walked past, but no one paid them any attention.

"Thank the Maker, there are still leftovers," Poe mumbled, pulling her towards the small buffet. A few friendly faces greeted them before vanishing into the kitchen behind it again, cleaning up for the day. Releasing the hold he had on her, the pilot grabbed them both a plate. "Take whatever you want. And don't forget those cookies."

She didn't. When the two of them sat down facing each other at one of the corner tables, each plate was overflowing with all kinds of delicious fruits, vegetables, meat and pastries. Sora ate slowly, making sure to savor her first taste of real meal in years.

They ate in comfortable silence until she finally bit into the jogan-fruit cookie and moaned softly. "Kriff, you weren't lying. This is the best desert I've ever had."

Munching on his own cookie, Poe winked at her. "Don't tell anyone but there's a secret stash of 'em in the kitchen. It's in the cabinet under the sink. In case you ever need a midnight snack."

"Sharing highly confidential secrets with me already?" She teasingly raised a brow, swallowing the last crumbs of cookie. "I'm flattered and will take it with me to the grave."

"You better." Poe put his forearms on the table and leaned closer to her, clasping his hands together. "You don't want to deal with Kalara's wrath. That kitchen is her kingdom and those cookies she makes are her most prized possession."

"Sounds like you've experienced her anger before," Sora replied, chuckling softly.

The pilot winced. "Let's just say getting spanked with a wooden spoon hurts a lot more than you'd expect."

Sora burst into laughter, imaging the scene inside her head. "I'd pay thousands to see that."

"By the way, that better stay between us as well. I'd never hear the end of it if my squadron members found out." It was an empty threat and Poe was smiling at her, seemingly content with being the reason behind her laugh.

"Can't promise anything," she said, letting her gaze wander around the cafeteria. Everyone had left the room, the clattering of plates and pots from the kitchen the only remaining hint at another presence.

Noticing how late it was as well, Poe pushed his chair back, looking down at her as he took both empty plates in his hands. "Think it's time to go. Do you know the way back to your room? I need to fill out some reports."

Sora nodded. "Sure. See you tomorrow?" The question filled with undeniable hope was out before she could stop it. She could only hope Poe interpreted it as a casual way to say good night.

"As if you'd get rid of me now, princess," the pilot scoffed and winked at her one last time, disposing of the dirty plates before he left the cafeteria.

After having slept throughout their whole hyperspace journey, the smuggler wasn't ready to lay in bed again just yet. She knew her sleep rhythm would be all over the place but there was so much to see on D'Qar. So much that wasn't sand. A little exploring wouldn't hurt.

Which is why instead of retracing their steps, Sora found her way upstairs again. Except for a few select workers, likely acting as guards to ensure no enemies were near, the hangars and landing platforms were empty. The air had become rather chilly and she was thankful for the jacket Leia had provided her with.

Just like on Jakku, the nights on D'Qar were mostly silent. But where the desert planet lacked wildlife, D'Qar had plenty to offer. Insects she had never seen before were chirping somewhere in the jungle around her, plants she couldn't name were gently rustling in the wind. The lush greenery felt soft against her skin as she let her hands brush against it. Up high above her, one of the two moons shone fully, reflecting enough light to show her a path through the vegetation.

Sora made sure not to wander off too far. She had no idea whether there were any dangerous predators on this planet. Moreover, she would have to navigate her way back later.

After what she guessed must have been around half an hour, a beautiful sight welcomed her. Crystal clear water rushed down from a cliff to her right, forming a small lake at the bottom and spreading out into a narrow river that disappeared somewhere in the thick greenery. Tiny glowing orbs were slowly floating through the air, a species of animals she couldn't name.

Sora gasped softly at the sheer beauty of nature presented to her. Yet, as her body sunk onto the soft ground and her fingers touched the wet surface in front of her, she suddenly found herself overwhelmed with all of the feelings she had pushed back for so long.

Everything felt so unreal, like a fever dream. That fateful day on Atrisia, her life had ended. The life she had known for 24 years had been erased and the only person left alive she had loved like a brother had to watch her die. For two years, she had managed to survive on Jakku. But surviving wasn't living.

And now. Now she felt like she could truly begin to hope again. Hope to find a way back to her old life. Hope to experience life again.

Rey would understand. Sora was sure of it. Heck, she'd probably encourage the smuggler to stay here or take the spaceship Poe and her had stolen to find Elijah. Even though the latter seemed entirely impossible, considering she had no idea where to even start. Elijah and her had lived an almost anonymous life. Sure, she could ask some of their old contacts whether they had seen him again, but the crew of the Phoenix had never told anyone of their whereabouts or plans. Not that they ever had any. Back then, their decision on which planet to look for a job next had been totally random.

Maybe there was a chance the Resistance could help her. Surely, they had contacts all across the galaxy. Perhaps someone had come across her partner in crime. She supposed she shouldn't even try looking for Revan and Nyra. With the former being a wanted ex-stormtrooper, they had to have gone into total hiding.

For Elijah's sake, shouldn't she at least try to find him? She was sure that if he knew she was alive, he would do the same for her. However, accompanying Rey back to Jakku would mean she'd loose her chance at seeing him again. She didn't want to leave her friend alone on that sad planet but she couldn't force her to leave her home behind either.

Deep in thoughts, Sora raised her arm, slowly holding out her hand and watching as one of the glowing orbs landed on her palm. Tiny pairs of wings tickled against her pale skin but the animal was shy and flew off again before she could even blink.

Rey would understand.

And the decision had been made.

Sora spent the walk back to the base feeling lighter than before. The heavy weight on her shoulders she had been unaware of until today had been lifted, leaving her with a clear consciousness.

When the smuggler stepped out of the jungle and onto the concrete of the landing platforms, she noticed a silhouette next to a black X-Wing.

Poe was leaning against one of its wings, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows drawn together in thought.

He couldn't shake off his concern for BeeBee-Ate and the vital information he was currently carrying around somewhere in the galaxy. What if the First Order had already caught his droid?

All the pilot really wanted to do was jump into his X-Wings and search for the droid himself. The knowledge that he had no idea where to start looking was what kept him on the ground. Besides, Poe knew BeeBee-Ate was smart enough to make it back to the base on his own. Or with the help of Sora's friend Rey. He just had to have hope. Wasn't that was Leia always told them?

The sounds of nearby footsteps caused him to abandon his train of thoughts. When the person stepped closer and he was able to recognize her, he pushed his body back to its full height, moving to step in front of her. "Not that I am not happy to see you again, but aren't you supposed to be in your room?"

He watched as she rolled her eyes, the tiny smile on her face betraying her. "And aren't you supposed to write reports?" Her hair had dried fully and the black waves cascading down her back looked so soft he barely managed to restrain himself from reaching out to touch them.

Instead, Poe simply stepped even closer, content when she didn't move back. "Took me ten minutes to finish them. So where have you been this whole time? It's already way past midnight." He hoped he didn't sound too worried.

Sora hadn't realized she'd spent that much time by the waterfall. "I just needed to clear my head. Can't do that trapped under ground. And it's beautiful out there."

That, the pilot could understand very well. Except when he needed to clear his mind, he usually jumped into his X-Wing and fly around. He'd always felt more confident up in the stars. "At least take a weapon with you next time. D'Qar has some wildlife you don't want to meet alone, especially at night." He had noticed the lack of blaster on her belt. Whilst there were no other intelligent lifeforms on this planet, the jungle was a refugee for some pretty big and venomous predators. Better to be safe than sorry.

"Will do. Is that your X-Wing?"

Poe nodded proudly. "Black One is a beauty, isn't she?"

"The name's a bit uncreative but yeah, she looks awesome."

"I'm just gonna pretend I didn't hear that." Poe gave his spacecraft one last longing stare, looking at BeeBee-Ate's empty spot behind the cockpit. Then, he turned his gaze towards the woman who had caught his interest. "Let me walk you back to your room."

"Why not," was Sora's only response as they walked side by side.

Although she didn't look tired, Poe was sure she could use some more hours of sleep. He knew that there was more to her story than she had told him. Whatever had happened prior to her miraculously stranding on Jakku had obviously had a big impact on her life.

But he could also see that the last couple of hours had awakened something inside her that had previously been dormant. He recognized that look of determination in her eyes.

When they stopped in front of her door, Poe watched her putting in the numbers to open it. She had already stepped into her room when he turned back towards him, sending him a gentle smile he happily returned. "Good night, Poe."

"Good night, Sora."

*****

At sunrise, she found herself strolling through the hangars. Her belly was still filled with everything she had eaten the evening before, so she decided to skip breakfast. The members of the Resistance were starting their work day one after another, slowly filling up the base. She saw mechanics inspecting and repairing the X-Wings, their pilots not far away from the action either. Some people were jogging rummaging through crates, sorting supplies into storage rooms. Everyone had a role here and each of them mattered, that much was obvious. In a rebellion, working together was essential to the cause.

"No, no. I told you I'm not setting a single foot on Tatooine again. Ever. You'd have to sedate me and drag my body there yourself."

"Oh, that can be arranged."

"And who would fly the ship? Newsflash, you're the worst pilot in the galaxy and you know it. You'd crash before you can even leave the planet."

"At least I'd no longer have to listen to you then."

"Just a little reminder: You literally paid to get me back."

"And I've regretted it every single day so far!"

Sora's heartbeat stopped before it continued to race inside her chest, catapulting her pulse into unhealthy dimensions. She couldn't believe her eyes. Couldn't believe that what she was seeing, that what she was hearing was real.

Because there, in the middle of the hangar, were the last people she had expected to meet on this planet. Maybe she was still dreaming? Surely, such a crazy coincidence couldn't exist.

"Revan? Nyra?" Her voice was weak. She hadn't meant to say it out loud. For the first time in her life, Sora was starstruck.

The man she had first met in a prison cell on Atrisia two years ago turned his head instantly, a pair of blue eyes meeting her wide, brown ones. The beautiful woman next to him did the same, her brown locks whipping around her head at her fast motion.

Similar to her reaction, Revan looked like he had seen a ghost. Lips parted in disbelief, he blinked nonstop as if making sure she wouldn't disappear at some point and prove his theory. "Nyra, please tell me you see her as well."

Much more composed than both of them, Nyra grinned widely, jabbing her elbow into his side. "I told you she wasn't dead. You owe me five thousand credits."

That managed to pull both Revan and Sora out of their trance. In an instant, she was pulled into a brief hug. Strong, muscled arms wrapped around her middle, squeezing her against his chest. He kept her at arms length when he let her go again, letting his eyes roam over her body. "I don't understand...how? How are you here?"

"Long story. One I'd rather not tell right now and not here." Too many curious eyes were watching the trio's exchange. The people around them made sure to act nonchalant but Sora knew they were all listening, even if it was just out of instinct.

"You're right. C'mon, let's find a quiet place. There's so much we need to catch up on."

*****

"So, let me get this right. You're here because a stormtrooper saved your life and dumped you on Jakku, only to be picked up by the best pilot of the Resistance two years later."

"Well, it was me who picked him up actually."

"Kriff Sora, if we had known you had survived, we would have searched for you," Revan said, leaning back in his chair. "After what you've done for me, I owe you one."

They had retreated into what Nyra had called the smuggler's den which usually functioned as their personal meeting room. Supply boxes were piled up by the walls, a round table with four chairs occupying the rest of the tiny room. Thankfully, being one of the very few rooms above ground, the air was fresh and clean inside.

"It's okay," Sora waved him off. "Even I was convinced I was dead. I don't blame you and you owe me nothing. I willingly took the risk when I decided to get you out of there despite the problematic situation."

Nyra shook her head and leaned forward to lay her hand atop of Sora's, the surface of the table cold against their skin. "I should have told you about who Revan was. Should have made you aware of the First Orders role in it. If anything, it was my fault."

The smuggler didn't like that they were obviously riddled with guilt. Truly, if there was one party to blame, it was definitely the First Order. Especially general Hux. Maker, she despised that guy. "No, it wasn't," Sora emphasized. Sighing, she freed her hand and folded her arms across her chest. "Let's just keep it in the past. I'm here now, mostly fine, and that's enough."

"If that's what you want, okay." Shrugging his shoulders, Revan stretched out his arm behind Nyra, putting it atop the back of her chair. The beautiful woman barely acknowledged it with a role of her eyes.

Nodding in confirmation, the young woman opted to change the topic. "So, you two are smugglers for the Resistance now?"

"Yeah. The Resistance was pretty much the only place we could go to and they were looking for people to smuggle resources, spare parts for the fleet and other stuff. Leia trusted me, despite my past."

It was time for the question she dreaded to ask. Swallowing, Sora gathered all of her courage and tried to suppress her fear of the possible answer. "So...what happened to Elijah?"

Revan grimaced, a distant look of sorrow etched onto his face. "After he dropped me off on Bardotta, he gave me your ship and disappeared. Didn't tell me where he wanted to go and didn't even take the reward for saving me. I haven't heard from him ever since. I'm sorry, Sora."

Not the answer she wanted to hear and certainly not the one she was expecting. "He gave you the Phoenix? Just like that?" Kriff, if he didn't have a spacecraft, where did he go and how did he manage to leave the planet with no credits?

It was Nyra who answered. "He said there were too many memories attached to it. He practically threw the remote controls at us."

That actually sounded quite like Elijah. He'd always had a hard time acknowledging the past, opting to run away from it rather than embrace it. All of this information had only pushed her further away from finding him. Where could she ever start looking for him?

Stopping herself from letting her thoughts go further down this sad, dark path, she decided to focus on the positive. "So the Phoenix is on D'Qar?"

Lips pulled into a grin, Revan slapped his thigh and stood up. "You wanna see her? She's still yours, captain."

Sora's mood brightened considerably the moment her gaze laid upon her beloved spaceship, tucked away into a hangar she hadn't visited yet. The familiar silver and red modified Ghtroc 720 freighter with its turtle like shape beckoned her to come closer. Revan had given her the remote control wristband and with a press of a tiny button, the ramp lowered itself slowly.

Nyra and Revan kept quiet as she investigated the interior. Everything had been left untouched, the only indication anyone other than her and Elijah had ever been on the ship was the fact that the third bedroom had been used, clothes that weren't hers chaotically thrown on the bed.

Sora instantly felt at home again.

When she sunk into the pilot's seat and ran her finger over the controls, Nyra made herself comfortable in the only other seat next to her which was meant for the co-pilot. She pointedly ignored the offended look Revan send her when she stole his spot. "What do you say, you wanna be our captain? Because we need a leader and that guy here is basically useless in that department."

How could she decline now that the Phoenix was back in her possession? In addition, it would offer her a good opportunity to search for Elijah during their missions. Smiling to herself, she took one last deep breath before she announced her decision. "I guess we will make a good crew, won't we?"

"Thank the Maker, I missed a smart, female companion." Nyra clapped her hands in anticipation, sending Revan a halfhearted glare.

"Keep denying that you love my presence, sweetheart," Revan replied, the corners of his mouth pulled into a smug grin.

"Whatever." Was that a blush on her tan skin?

Eyes traveling between the bickering duo, Sora raised her brows. She smiled teasingly and tilted her head to lock eyes with Revan, remembering their talk in the forest of Atrisia. "It's complicated, right?

"See, now you get what I meant."

*****

"I told you we would go to Tatooine, whether you like it or not," Nyra cheered triumphly as soon they had left the conference room.

Leia had been delighted when Sora had told her she accepted her offer to stay under the condition that she would form a team with Nyra and Revan. The general had agreed without hesitation, hugging the younger woman whilst whispering something in her ear. "I know I won't be the only one happy about your decision."

Albeit confused, Sora wrote it off as a hint towards the Resistance gaining a new member which would surely make everyone on D'Qar happy. After all, they needed as many people as they could find.

The general had also given them the green light for their new mission on Tatooine, much to Revan's disdain. They were to leave today.

"Why does everyone want to go to that dumpster of a planet?" He groaned, one hand running over his face in pure annoyance. "Sora, help me out here. There's nothing there but heat, crime, sand, even more sand and Jawas. Maker, I hate Jawas." He was full out whining like a toddler now, so unlike his age and former profession.

Sora had to agree with him. Tatooine was definitely at the bottom of planets she had liked during their travels. Nothing good ever happened there and the heat was almost unbearable, thanks to the two suns the planet orbited around. "Hate to discourage you even more but for what we're looking for, we will need to trade with the Jawas."

"This mission is going to be a pain in my ass, I just know it."

"Quit acting like a child," Nyra scolded him, hitting his arm. "Let's get ready for take-off. The faster we leave, the earlier we can get back."

"You're right, let's get this over and done with asap." Squeezing his body between the two women, he wrapped one arm around Nyra's shoulders and his other around Sora's, pulling them both against him. Although the former tried to protest at first, he wouldn't let her go, ignoring her ramming her elbow against his ribs. Sora only smiled, content with what this morning had revealed and caused.

They received quite some stares from their peers. The sight must have been unusual, especially because no one knew about the past the trio shared, apart from Leia of course. And here they were, acting as if they were best friends when to anyone else, the duo had just met the newest member of the Resistance an hour ago.

Handing her a blaster and a new comlink which Sora quickly fastened around her wrist, Nyra looked her up and down. "Looking good, hotshot. Might want to leave that jacket here though. Leather will make you sweat to death on Tatooine."

"I know." Slipping out of the clothing item, she carefully draped it over some of the crates and devices belonging to the team. Nyra followed her suit. No one would steal the clothes anyways.

"C'mon ladies, we don't have all day." Sticking his head out of the ship, Revan beckoned them inside. The ramp closed behind the trio as they made their way to the cockpit. "I call shotgun." He was in the copilot's seat before Nyra could protest.

Instead, she only rolled her eyes, wordlessly choosing the seat behind the two of them. Fingers fumbling with the controls, Sora switched on the engine and activated all necessary systems. No words could describe how good it felt to be in control of the Phoenix again. She found herself slipping into the role she grew up with easily.

"Phoenix to control centre, ready for take-off. Waiting for permission." Revan's voice was serious now, all switched into professional mode.

"Control Centre to Phoenix. Permission granted. Communications will be disabled until you re-enter D'Qar's atmosphere."

"Copy that. Oh, and safe some supper for us for when we get back." The communication line went dead.

The Phoenix hovered above ground, the Resistance's workers pausing their duty to clear the hangar. Sora carefully maneuvered the ship onto the landing platforms before pulling it up into the air. Clouds drawing closer around them, Sora switched on the thrusters and gradually increased the speed of the spacecraft.

"Preparing to jump into hyperspace. If all goes well, we'll be back somewhen after midnight," Revan announced. Tatooine was relatively close to D'Qar, so it would only take them a couple of hours to reach it. "That is if the Jawas will cooperate. If they don't, I'm just saying I wouldn't mind stealing from them."

Sora tilted her head, giving him a look that clearly stated you're stupid. "Stealing from Jawas is basically impossible. They're guarding their goods like hawks and unless we kill all of them we'd never make it. Which we won't because they aren't our enemies by the way."

"Alright, alright." Raising his hands in surrender, the defector actually pouted. "We could still knock them out though, right?"

#poe dameron x original female character #fanfiction #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #rey skywalker #star wars #star wars fanfiction #oscar isaac #kylo ren #leia organa #han solo #luke skywalker #finn

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runawaycarouselhorse · 1 year ago

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The fun part about characters' names being written in katakana is obscuring the meaning or being able to be interprered many different ways. For example, Brock's Japanese name Takeshi, could be written as bamboo-will or rock-mountain depending on which kanji you use.

We know that Bashou and Buson take their names from haiku masters and we know Buson's named for his loyalty and devotion to Bashou, but Buson's high rank, design, and military aesthetics suggest a different possible meaning and kanji spelling, which might also explain the dub's choice of Attila and Hun...

Poet Bashou took his pen name from the banana tree, gifted to him by a pupil. His hermitage at the temple was shaded by the banana tree, so it became known as the basho-an.

it fell into disrepair by Buson's time. Buson spent money restoring it and built a monument to Bashou there, even asking to be buried next to it, a request that was honoured, and his own disciples were buried around him.

Poet Buson's name is written with the characters for turnip-village. He was also calked Yosa no Buson, Yosa taken from the name of his mother's birthplace. Buson was born in Tennoji, which was then known for its turnips, so Buson is turnip-village.

Another way to write Buson is with these kanji:

武尊

Meaning:

武 Strong and courageous. Strong-willed. warrior. soldier. Battle. War. Military. War potential. Weapons. Overcome. Surpass.

尊 Respect. A high value or rank. A word expressing respect. A title of respect attached to the name of a deity or noble person.

So, that's 武 (bu, same as in bushidou) meaning “martial, military, warrior, arms” and 尊 (son) which is a mark of respect and used for nobility and deities.

Attila the Hun, a famous warlord, dubbed the Scourge of God, therefore feels fitting.

'Attila (pronounced: “atilla”) is a modern transcript of the name of the Hunnic ruler of the 5th century AD. Its origin is debated, either a Germanic exonym (meaning “respectful father”), or Turkish (in this case it means “father of the earth”) or Mongol (it can mean simply “ruler”).'

Both names are war-like, befitting a warrior, soldier... and a weapon. They also suggest lofty rank, fitting a high ranking agent who tries to capture a Legendary Pokemon (and later succeeds at capturing another!)

... this one is probably simply serendipity, but Buson being based on the tanuki archtype (contrasting with Bashou's kitsune archtype*), tanuki having a weakness for wine and women, and Attila the Hun's mysterious and shady death on his wedding night to a woman who asked for his help to be freed from an unwanted marriage (she sent him a letter and a gift and he either misunderstood or willfully misinterpreted it as a proposal to him, so went to war ostensibly for her sake) was either assassinated/somehow poisoned by his wife or the bleeding was caused by his drinking problem.

#(anyway so I'm a soldier/warrior/killing machine but like a high-ranking one and maybe they think I'll drink myself to death) -Buson probabl #The Legend of Thunder #The Legend of Thunder!#Team Rocket #Team Rocket Attila #Team Rocket Hun #Bashou #Buson #... designated dad by his dub name also pfft #I can't share art yet but soon!!! ... soon I will have wi-fi!!!#until then have text posts from my drafts #Kojiro and Musashi and Kosaburo and Yamato genuinely have those themed names so I think Buson's name might genuinely be his #but it'd also be cute if it's a codename to match Bashou's #higher ranking Rockets sometimes have odd or even western names like Sgt. Viper and Domino and Vicious #Gozu has the name of a guardian of Hell in the Japanese version of Chinese legends but he's not partnered with a Mezu but Matori...#is Gozu a name a paeent would give their child? I wonder if he previously had a partner with a name that matched...#the tags are more relevant to roleplaying #I like the idea of Buson's actual name being written the same way but read differently (Takeru is a more common and modern sounding reading #history #death #alcohol * mention

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hungeringheart · 1 year ago

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hi! i was wondering if u did session analysis(es?) and i just wanted to ask if u could do an analysis for muse of void (troll), heir of hope, thief of breath, prince of blood (troll) and maid of doom. if you dont wanna do my request its fine! also love ur classpect analysis :D

It's been a minute! I'm sorry it took so long, I just saw "muse of void" and knew I'd have to give this one a particular level of think because it's such an interesting and uncommon classpect.

I think it's so uncommon and interesting because most rp groups within the fandom would never in a hundred million years let you bring in a Muse -- oh power creep this oh narrative focus that, you know, that type of thing. The usual mechanics measuring you get stuck into with people you don't know well and trust. So usually people make muses for fanventures or small closed things with friends -- and on that account I want to say, thank you as always for letting me at your characters to turn them over and put them in situations!

I don't acknowledge this enough, but when I write these posts I do my best to strike a balance between analysis according to my tastes and respecting the creative intent of the asker. Sometimes I can't obviously see it, and some people like to be vague in their asks because they want to see my take on something they're doing differently anyway -- but the sentiment is there!

I also quite like that you've specified everybody's species. Mind you, I do tend to assume your trolls are Alternian if not given any other context, and I might suggest a few things pertaining to my fanworld if I think it could help you think some things through. But the species context helps enormously!

Now that we've got preliminaries out of the way, let's get cracking.

Dramatis Personae

Trolls

Muse of Void

Prince of Blood

Humans

Heir of Hope

Thief of Breath

Maid of Doom

Lay of the Land

As usual, we're starting off by establishing the general status of our classpects. There's a bit to get through, so I've helpfully made some subheadings.

Hope

In my session analysis I usually say that the presence of an Heir means that their aspect is in a position to nurture them, but also in decline such that it requires an heir, a person to whom it (the aspect, in the sense of a programmed environmental preset or in the sense of a semi sapient force) can legally transfer its power, pass its torch.

In our case, that aspect is Hope.

Now, Hope is often scanned as optimism and literal actual hope and faith, but I would argue it also represents perseverance; one of its consistent symbols in the narrative is this idea of an unstoppable force, like a shonen protagonist or your friend that is somehow capable of ignoring all indications of reality when pursuing a dream. It's associated with angels, heralds and messengers of What Must Be -- you can't go protagonistier than divine approval of your pursuits!

When a hero of Hope is fully realized they can look at the rules and the realistic limits of a situation, say "nah but for real tho" and skip merrily right on through on the strength of their ability to ignore the haters. Aranea at least is of the opinion that Jake's aspect is "unrivaled 8y any other", and it's easy to see why - it's got big damn hero written all over it!

Not to say that you can't weight your aspects anydamnhow you like, of course. That depends on the story you want to tell.

But it's pretty classic storytelling to say that hope and faith and belief and dreams and such is dying, and someone loyal, brave and true is there to help. On some level we could all have used a champion for our childhood gentleness.

Breath

In keeping with our previous discovery that there's very little Hope to go round, we also have an understanding that Breath -- agency, serendipity, room to breathe, narrative, limelight -- is so rare, so precious, that somebody in need might be tempted to steal or usurp it.

Now, it is possible that the lack of Breath is personal for the Thief themself -- but is that more interesting for you than nobody having much agency, and the Thief deciding "screw y'all, I got mine"?

Or let's consider for a moment that maybe they want to help their team, but they need more Breath to do that... in essence, they need to learn to claim the limelight and occupy space? Oh, now we are cooking with gas. Now we're cooking with gas.

Doom

It can mean a lot of things for Doom to have a maid. Obvious among them is that there's a need for maybe tidying up, maybe some introducing and making -- disarray, lawlessness, a general disrespect for the conventions of being. That's not surprising given this Maid's friend group! Good golly, two entire main character syndrome patients. Naturally someone has to rein them in and establish some rules.

Rules in general seem to be relaxed here, and death and decline are quite remote -- is this a good thing? Is this a bad thing? I don't know -- time will tell.

One alternative reading of the Maid of specifically Doom that could be interesting is another digression into traditional narrative -- the figure of the doomed maid.

Let's take the mythohistorical person Berurya, for example, known mainly for being the wife (and therefore in some sense, in the period, also the servant) of the scholar Rabbi Meir. She's a fairly paradigmatic example of a narrative about someone who punches above their weight (she often argued theological opinions and people cited her in formal debate, she was famously very pious, and also she was, horror of horrors, a woman). In response to this her husband's students get jealous and conspire to put her in a position where to protect her dignity, she has to honour kill herself. They then expect him to go on like he's been having a normal one, or at least they never talk about it again except the guys who started a grassroots movement of naming after her.

You see these types of characters and imageries throughout a lot of different cultures, and mostly they boil down to this idea that there are people (reduced to archetypes) who are perfectly fine and even respectable as long as they serve the needs of the powers that be (in Berurya's case, the rabbinical establishment), but the moment that they fly too close to the sun, they have to be cut down. Doom is positively about justice and law and destiny (which is what doom meant to the Anglo-Saxons), but it can also be read as being about death, decay, judicial punishment, and yes, cutting down tall poppies...

Homestuck has an unfortunate (for your Maid) precedent for Maids -- underappreciated, servile, in some way sacrosanct figures -- as scapegoats and sufferers, and Doom is canonically also an aspect of suffering. I sure hope Doom doesn't turn on this poor individual right at the moment when they believe the rules that protect them would be most applicable! I sure hope they don't have their expectations and sense of effifacy built up only to have to resist their being torn down!

Blood

This is a lovely segue into a classpect that works really well thematically with Doom -- Blood represents connection, obligation, comradeship, change, revolution, mutation, connection, inheritance.

We do need to make a note of the fact that our Prince of Blood is a troll. For them, then, Blood is also fundamentally about caste and fitness and predestination in a way it probably isn't for your humans -- unless it is, but you'd know that better than me.

The duality of Princes -- do they destroy their aspect or destroy with its power? -- and their theming, which we can read as monarchic or as judicial (Nasi, the title of the president of the Sanhedrin, can be translated Prince or President), is similarly dualistic. Are they tyrants or mediators? Can you be both?

Regardless of their approach, a Prince in the game means the aspect is at a zenith of relevance -- Dirk's Heart aspect and his callousness with it was sort of a central thing of the alpha session -- and it's in their hands to some extent where their thing goes from there, up or down. They have dominion and they're free to use it as they like, define it, reform it -- like a Sylph, but more selfish, almost.

For the trolls this means a particularly harsh society, and for everyone it means that whatever the nature of their Blood, it's important. Maybe the troll species of your Prince inflects Blood for your human players too; maybe, if you like, your text is fundamentally focused on the implications of heritage in a way that Homestuck very deliberately avoids being.

Void

There is an argument to be made for the idea that Void is irrelevant to your game -- or nearly so, at first. Muses inspire and command (or command through) their Aspect, which is huge, but... it's a muse. It's the dinkiest most passive passive class, and in my particular balance oriented reading a Muse commands the aspect that's initially or eventually weakest and least relevant in the session. Calliope had zero room to learn or grow, and Caliborn blew up most of Space. That's a thing that he definitely actually did.

Put simply, your game is chockablock stuffed full of random pointless shit. No one has the time or desire to stop for a bit and do nothing; there's no mystery, they've all lost the plot of what they're doing and the reverence due to the thing in the background, the fear, the unknown. Minmaxing is expected.

If your troll religion is Horrorterror-oriented, this is a good time to say that's in decline too -- the level of abject don't give a fuck is so profound that the Muse may well believe they're the only person who really looks and sees anything at all in the world. That's a miserable way to be; they're probably not very effective, maybe even maladjusted.

But they don't have to be. After all, there are powers in the abyss, which are there and Ą̴̪̜̤̣̥͍̗̆̈́̏̇̾̅̈́͝ḻ̵̬̱̳̙͈̰̳͙͑́̎̐w̷̟̤͎͎͉͔͑̂̈́á̸̢̳̮̇̈́̽̒̍y̵̹̰̝͇̝̹̺̖̾̊̋̏ͅs̴̨͇͇̰͙͎̯̆̽͌̆͜ ̴̣͙̝͇͍͙̪͍͔́̉̽͗̃̚̕͝ẅ̴͙̼̭̹́̽̽͛̏̉͜i̸̛̖̘̮̤̱̳̖̎̀̔͑̂͘l̵̢̯͈̅͛̅̿̐́̾́̚l̴̜̝̙̪͕̔́̋ ̷̼̓͋͊̒͑́́̔̔b̷̳́̔͊̈̇̀̈́̊͊e̵͇̩͑̓͋̑͝.

Whoops! Got a little eldritch there for a second.

The big thing about Muses is that when realized, they can affect their aspect as much as it does them -- and in Void's case that means that our Muse here has the potential to seriously course correct the narrative, to restore Void to prominence and force everyone else to take time to reconsider things and reanalyze the space they occupy. For especially the Maid, that might be important...

From the top, now

First things first, no one's breeding any frogs, and no one has any do-overs. You'll also note I didn't do any ominous red text evoking Caliborn, and that's intentional too -- no Time aspect means that it's possible, as I've just realized, for this universe to be outside of the cancerous frog branch of SBURB.

So what does the game look like? How do they play?

I think the human kids start playing first, and they find their game a bit of a mess; hopeless, directionless, and kind of broken down systematically. The trolls play their own two-player game, which as far as they know is thematically about analyzing their society (through blood as caste and void as religion and both as what a person owes to society), and fail -- but the Muse leverages the Terrors and the Prince leverages their sense of decency, and off they go through the Ring and into an adjacent universe. I think they might begin as Exiles for two of the human players.

While the Maid runs around trying to facilitate the Hope player and keep the Breath player on course (their aspects are opposing along the axis of attitude to destiny, it's not easy), the Prince and Muse disagree (and maybe balkanize the human kids) as to what would be the most helpful form of intervention. That could be dangerous, but on the other hand, for now, their universe is coming to be still and quiet... there's a long window between when it becomes noticeable that an end is coming and when an end does come.

And oh, what sorts of things they could all get up to then!

Of course, in your own universe, mileage will vary...

Bonus rambling: a brief aside about an interesting point of mixed species sessions.

In a fundamental way, if there's no time travel and cultural anthropology involved, there's a very limited window of time in which one group of young people can communicate their worldview to another. Culture shock is real and sometimes strikes a long time after you think you've assimilated.

Children handle it better than adults on a lot of levels, but not on all of them. How much worse is a time limit if the people it's imposed on can't communicate about important issues?

Take Alternia: they have a caste system. In a group of human friends who don't have one, informal deference on the basis of social status just doesn't really usually happen. And in caste societies we do have, well, we have all kinds of social movements and changes ongoing.

Even insomuch as we have castes, for the most part, they don't affect our children in the way that trolls' castes do because they're partly morphological. We can infer from the existence of hemoanons that the phenomenon of caste is much like our phenomenon of sex-based gender for trolls -- the biological foundations are murky, but the sociological realia connected to them are attributed to innate traits and not really questioned.

This is a little like caste based politeness and a little like our binary gender in human societies so far, but stay with me -- I think there actually are certain aspects of the hemospectrum that are at some level instinctive. The castes correspond to castes in eusocial insects, and by that analogy we may assume that trolls in person a) can instantly tell what socially constructed caste a troll belongs to by their morph, and b) have some ant-brain level of very broad inborn behaviour about it.

It's always a good idea to consider your caste worldbuilding when you write little guys in opposition to each other and to humans -- how does your system respond to the species having internet? How does your humans' culture interface with it? Is it different by region, by planet?

Well, that's all for now, I think.

Thank you for sticking around this long!

#session analysis #homestuck

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troglobite · 2 years ago

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laskdjf cr c3 spoilers i guess

in the 4 sided d/ve ep m/risha was like "yeah i asked matt how l/dinus knew abt k/yleth and v/x and that he'd show up to protect her" and matt apparently responded "well that's not the first time that she's been attacked"

well yeah clearly

the attack on the ashari that killed or/m's family was obviously a test run to get an idea abt how best to kill kiki as quickly as fucking possible

BUT THAT DOESN'T FUCKING EXPLAIN HOW AND WHY LUDIN/S WOULD HAVE ANY IDEA ABT THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE!

they start on different continents, as far as we know, they've never had cause to interact at all

and you expect me to believe that kiki has been in enough danger frequently enough for her level 20+ powerful druid self to be near death that it SUMMONS V/X???? like on the reg???

and that for some reason, vax, who has grown as a person and is a deeply important and busy entity, would just be able to show up on a whim to help kiki??? like, whenever???

also they'd already discussed what happens and that was NOT part of it. how is kiki supposed to MOVE ON AND EVOLVE past that devastating thing? how does she not immediately develop a death wish if THAT'S what happens every time someone tries to kill her?!?!

OR ALTERNATIVELY she's so opposed to him doing that that she is OVERLY cautious with her own safety, in WHICH case WHY WOULD SHE JUST CHARGE INTO SEE L/DINUS WITHOUT ANY SOLID PLAN, ASSUMING SHE WAS SOMEHOW STRONGER THAN HIM, DESPITE THE FACT THAT SHE SHOULD HAVE INTEL?!

she faced him and the crew once before! it went VERY badly! WHY IN THE WORLD would she think that charging into the middle of EVERYTHING ON HER OWN would be safe?! so either she has a deathwish or she's VERY stupid, all of a sudden, even though she literally last had a WIS score of 22.

and then also--

and that, for some reason, word gets around about that???

and that for some reason, they all find out who and what vax is??? so that they know he's divine in essence and can be used for this purpose specifically???

like i'm sorry, the sheer VOLUME of serendipity and coincidence and perfect timing that has to happen for ANY of that to be possible. like no! absolutely not! THERE'S NO WAY THAT MAKES ANY SENSE!!!

listen i'm not shitting on cr all of a sudden or whatever, and by and large i still think matt is a great person, storyteller, and dm.

but this move w c3 is SO just. fucking infuriating.

i'm rambling bc i was talking w friends abt it today. lol

but the most batshit part, as a friend pointed out, is that MORE ppl aren't screaming RAILROADING!!! SCRIPTED!!! SHITTY STORY!!! at c3 when they were all losing their minds at c1 and c2.

but here we are in c3 with the most blatantly pre-planned, railroaded shit ever that completely removed player agency to accomplish One Thing, and no one??? cares????

truly nostalgia is a powerful drug, apparently.

like matt turned vax into an orb or a hockey puck or something and WE'RE ALL JUST FINE WITH THAT?!?! batshit.

anyway point being, matt had an idea, he thought it would be cool, he worked backwards to justify it, he constructed the scenario so that no one would be able to stop it, he forced it to happen

that's what happened in c3, end of.

and i don't particularly like that.

i'm not like. ABANDONING it. but c3 was already kind of on thin ice. lol i'm compelled by parts of it but oof. it does kinda suck.

esp when the party is just like.

NOT engaging with the immediate consequences of whatever the fuck happened. and matt has ALSO made THAT happen on purpose.

he 10000000% knew that they would fail to stop the event (bc there was no way they could change anything) and planned far ahead of time to split the party.

which--fine! more time and space for guest players! which is great!

HOWEVER

these characters are, again, so low level that they just......are flailing in the face of something so much bigger than them that HAS ALREADY HAPPENED. so idk what really they're supposed to do now.

i'm just rambling abt my thoughts

this mainly started as a whole thing abt like--

no, matt's justification, narratively, for vax and kiki made no sense.

and then m/risha also said that he told her they did "middling" w their performance trying to stop it--that it could've been worse but it could've been better

yeah i'll bet because they wouldn't be able to change anything, period.

they managed to do so much and everything they destroyed was just...what? a decoy? backup? so they changed nothing.

and that sucks.

[SIGH GRUMBLE GRUMBLE COMPLAIN LOUDLY]

i'm rehashing it all again but i was just thinking abt it again bc i had to plan for my own game today and i was talking w friends abt it again bc it happened to come up.

anyway.

bad writing, matt.

very cool idea and moment!

terrible logic. absolutely hand of god kinda bullshit, there. "because i say so" vibes. lol

hopefully everything gets better from here. aabria and christian have been wonderful guest players, though shit is also hinky there. i think aabria has something up her sleeve so i hope that THAT is ALSO really good.

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twiainsurancegroup · 7 months ago

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benefits1986 · 2 years ago

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Moon Child, Moon River

The moon seems to call me more and more the past months. Looking back, the moon has been my refuge in my darkest nights, too. A few months ago, as I was taking a break from my ina’s wake, I was greeted by the crescent moon with the unapologetic Venus. While I am a fan of full moon and try to track them and align them with my trips outside Manila, that night was magical and mundane. I remember huffing and puffing while a tiny stream of tears fell down my cheek. I remember whispering a prayer to mother dragon which is all about making sense of this loss which I didn’t expect to hit me hard. That night, as the moon smiled at my side of the universe, I tried smiling back. I tried to make amends to it. While Venus showed off her majesty, I somehow fought back even when deep down, I am totally wrecked. That night is a reminder that even the darkest nights can be beautiful, even when the world is weeping and the grounds are shaking. That night is a reminder that while my version of love and beauty may be rarities, they can actually come to life. That night is a reminder that when things are toughest, looking up and allowing the light and shadows to embrace me would make me feel more human. I guess, after 37 years of arguing that mother dragon has been making grand alibi as she points the moon as my nemesis and my confidant, she might be right all along. I guess that the moon is my Polaris as I have phases, too. One too many but always in a cycle. I may not have my own light but this gift, this curse, is where I draw inspiration to intention to make the most out of the light and shadow that is bestowed upon me. I guess that this Taurus szn is actually what I needed and wished for, too. It may be one for the books of really thick plot twists. I’ve cursed it one too many times; but during those really crazy times, I was able to earn life and love lessons that will matter not only a year from now; but maybe, just maybe, even a decade or so from now, too. Battling a good number of trauma is definitely a highlight and a low light, too. Forcing myself to trust people amidst my trusted trust issues is another hallmark. Doubling down on facing my vulnerabilities and those I come across a la serendipity is just above and beyond me. Perhaps, one of my wins this 2023 Taurus szn is finally being able to tell stories about the my fallen Taurus Twin Towers. The shaky hands, the ego, the pride --all worth it. I owe my audience of one the hardest crashes and the major burns; because, just in case someone needs to here my shittiest and realest thought farts, here they are. As I bleed so badly in my scarlet sins, may each letter, each pause, each typo, be of help to those who maybe looking for a safe space in one way or another. Let Moon River be the song that reminds me not only of my ina’s burial day. May it also be my guiding light as I choose to allow myself to feel instead of numbing the pain. May I choose to conquer fear instead of falsifying its existence. May I choose to be human as it is more than divine. May I continue breaking the silos within me. May I be more intentional with how I curate my life stories that are about being kindest to myself and others, too. May I choose to let the tears of sadness, of joy, of disgust, and of anger flow as I go for slow growth. May I continue choosing the path less taken and while at it, may I be with people who matter most. Thank you, universe for sending me angels who I’ve been pushing away many, many, many times. Thank you for making me see that to heal means to help others heal in the name of healing together. Thank you, universe for allowing me to make it just in time for recalibrating my current color grade along with all shades of blacks and whites. Thank you, universe for my people. I don’t know how, but I dearly hope that these people would also allow me to be with them in their battles, especially the silent ones, too. PS 1: Gah. Huy. Ang seryoso masyado netong thought fart na ‘to. Dapat yata ‘yun na lang “Love... Not Like The 90s” na lang ako because sabi ng tatay ko bago ako pumasok sa opisina kanina, para daw akong clipart ng 6-year old self ko na first day sa Prep school. :D To which I replied na, tumabi siya. ‘Wag siyang tumingin kung naabala siya kasi wala na akong maisip isuot kasi ang init ng kalakhang Manynila today. PS 2: Baka eto lang excuse ko na next tat ko apart from biking scene namin ng tatay ko e, phases of the moon naman kasi ‘di masyadong kita mga moon elements ng existing tats ko. LOL. Saan kaya maganda ilagay saka kelan kaya papaggawa? Sa Siargao na ‘PAG mas lumabas na clavicle ko. Shemay. Kaya ba yesterday ‘yung pag-labas ng clavicle? HAHAHAHAHAHA. PS 3: Bukas talaga, Pluto Retrograde na topic ko. Try natin English pero graphic version. :D

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hiccanna-tidbits · 2 years ago

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@jackunzel-time

Jackunzel Month Week 1 - Movies

***

Manic Pixie Dream Team

When the lines between fiction and reality began to blur, existence became a strange thing indeed. Rapunzel Corona was just glad the newly-hazy boundary allowed her an escape from Thaddeus Watts.

She’d lived most of her life--or what she thought was her life--in blissful ignorance. All throughout her childhood she had skipped through meadows and blown the seeds off dandelions and painted flowers and chameleons all over her guitar--all things that she supposed she never really “outgrew.” That was her reality--something she never dreamed was only the setup for a budget romantic comedy.

No, literally. Rapunzel was the unwitting star of a budget romantic comedy, trapped in a universe that never let her quirks be fully her own. Or at least that had been the case until recently.

Her first clue that something was amiss is that she simply couldn’t get away from Thaddeus.

The young man was a regular at the coffee shop she worked at, never without a button-up shirt and dress pants. Sometimes he even had on a tie, although never one of the fun ones with pictures of tacos or pelicans or what have you.

When they started dating, Rapunzel would sometimes wrap his ties around her head like a bandana and ask him if he was up for a game of cops and robbers. He always declined.

Thaddeus was a severe young man, always somber and serious and never far from his miniature typewriter and his sketchbook full of depressing pictures. He had a whole entourage of inner demons that he was eager to mention at every possible occasion, never with any shortage of the ways they tormented him. Rapunzel remembered how inexplicably strong the feeling of being drawn to him was, feeling as though she was the only one who could save him from himself

This grew to be a frustrating pursuit several weeks into their relationship.

Thaddeus Watts loved to monologue. He would come home from work with a little raincloud over his head, and when Rapunzel inquired what was wrong, well...there went the next few hours of her life. When she hugged him tightly from behind and told him everything would be all right, he always scoffed and claimed that he was tormented by anguish that she and her joyous whimsy “would never understand.” And yet all of her desperate pleas for Thads to go to therapy went ignored--or worse, were laughed at.

Eventually, the man’s angsting got to be so much that even Rapunzel, the ray of sunshine named after a fairy tale princess, began to grow weary. But ending their relationship proved not to be easy.

Breaking up with Thaddeus did not bring her the relief she'd craved. Instead, she felt almost sick, the strange pull that had initially brought her close to Thaddeus intensifying tenfold. Still, she ran from it, quitting her job at the coffee shop and taking pills for the frequent nausea.

Yet somehow, serendipity kept drawing Thaddeus into Rapunzel's path. At first she thought he was following her, but she came to doubt this.

His appearances felt a little too plot-contrived to be stalking.

When she noticed the shimmering expanse on the back wall of the newest restaurant she'd been hired at, floating like a portal, everything fell into place. It was a screen--and the world of free will was not her own. The world of free will lay on the other side, while Rapunzel was a mere prop in the kind of story used to help grumpy, miserable boys like Thaddeus feel better about themselves.

She waited until the audience's focus had to be on something more interesting than her--Thaddeus fighting with the waitress about his wine not being bitter enough--and she made her escape out of the corner of the screen.

And now here she is, hiding in a movie theater alcove by the trash cans. Surrounded by the smell of butter flavoring and nacho cheese and completely unsure of what to do.

Hopefully she just passes for another viewer, waiting by the theater exit for a friend perhaps. They’ve played a couple movies since hers, and in those 3 or so hours she’s explored the bathroom, bought some junior mints, and tried (unsuccessfully) to come up with a plan of action with only a walletful of cash to her name and a very cranky multi-millionaire director who’s sure to be displeased the hot, charming manic pixie dream girl in his movie is no longer selling box office tickets.

“Oh, thank god. You too?”

She looks up and nearly chokes on her mint.

Something about the cute young man with dyed white hair rounding the corner tells her he’s not just another moviegoer. His lanky form has the slightest reflective sheen to it--a slight shimmer that none of the people from this world have.

Luckily, none of the people from “the real world” have noticed Rapunzel’s own shimmer. It might help that she’s been keeping to the dark.

“Oh, my god.” Rapunzel speaks through a mouthful of chocolate. “I thought I was the only one! How bad was yours?”

The skinny man makes a face. “Hallmark Christmas movie. I got saddled with Angela. Had to teach her the ‘true meaning of Christmas’ because she hates the holidays with a passion. I...guess that’s when her company’s profits drop the most? Because everyone’s out of office or something? Pretty sure the only thing she actually cares about is getting the biggest penthouse in NYC.”

Rapunzel hums sympathetically. “I’m sorry. She sounds like a pain.”

“It's weird, like...I remember we went to grade school together, but she was pretty mean to me. And now I guess I’m supposed to change my mind because she got super hot, but...” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Every time I realize I don’t actually want to spend time with her, I get this really strong drive to help her lighten up. Kind of out of nowhere?”

“Me too!” Rapunzel laughs in relief. So somebody understands. “It was like...I was tied to Thad with this invisible string I couldn’t ever just cut. But not in a romantic way. More like...an annoying way. A ‘the universe just keeps shoving you together and telling you you should like it’ kind of way.”

The white-haired man looks at her like she’s offered him free lattes for the rest of his life. “I am so glad I found you, uh...”

“Rapunzel,” she finished, smiling. “You might pick up that they leaned into the whole ‘quirky weirdness’ thing in the writer’s room.”

“I’m Jack.” He shakes her hand, luckily not seeming to care it’s a little sticky with chocolate. “Just a simple, classic name for a hometown hunk, I guess. Added the dyed hair to spice me up a little.”

She raises her eyebrows at the word “hunk,” and he waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

“Do you...” Rapunzel frowned. “Do you think they’re going to try and catch us? Make us go back to our movies?”

“Probably.” Jack shrugged. “But we don’t have to worry about that right now. It’ll take them a while to realize we’ve left, so might as well enjoy the freedom.”

“Might as well.” Rapunzel holds out the small cardboard box. “Mint?”

He accepts. They wander in and out of theaters, sitting in on sci-fi thrillers and fantasy epics and screwball comedies and period dramas alike. Jack buys them a blue raspberry icee to share. He apparently shares her sweet tooth--one she hasn’t indulged in quite a while due to Thad avoiding sugar like the plague. Always reminded him too much of the arguments his parents used to have about his mom’s diets, he said, and the divorce that eventually led to.

“So.” Rapunzel turns to Jack with a conspiratorial smirk after an especially inane romantic comedy. “This...Angela. Do you think she likes the broody, tortured type?”

“Oh, sure,” he says. “I’ll bet she’d love a househusband she could sulk with. You said Thaddeus could never hold down a job, right?”

“Nope. He always got let go for monologuing about his tragic backstory when he was supposed to be filling spreadsheets.”

“A tragic backstory!” Jack barks with laughter. “Man, she’d eat that up. She always insisted underpaying the secretaries was fine because ‘humans are inherently depraved.’”

“That checks out,” Rapunzel says with a sigh. “I hope they find better jobs.”

“You and me both.”

“I...do have to warn you, though.” She grimaces. “Is Angela all right with weird diet indie vegan food? Pretty sure that’s all Thad knows how to cook.”

“Honestly she’d love that. She’s always obsessing over her calorie intake anyways. I tried to gift her a box of Christmas cookies and she nearly fainted.”

“Well, I’m thinking.” Rapunzel’s smirk suddenly returns, wider than ever. “How do you think our directors would feel about...a crossover? Our movies combine, and this could be the contemporary angsty romance drama of the decade. The emo guys and the girls with sticks up their butts and all the tormented souls would come flocking. Might do better at the box office than either of our movies would otherwise.”

Jack’s grin could light up the whole post-movie theater. “And then they won’t make us go back! We can stay here, and I can get a new place and put up a truly disgusting amount of Christmas lights--”

“And I can stuff daisies in my socks without anyone scolding me about it!” Rapunzel finishes gleefully. He laughs and offers her a crisp high five. She gratefully accepts.

And so began the work of the Manic Pixie Dream Team, off on a quest to liven up their own lives for once. Focusing on themselves despite the plot's every protest. But there’s only so far you can escape the tropes written into your very DNA--Jack and Rapunzel might just accidentally liven up each other's lives along the way.

***

AKSDPSBUFYBV ONLY TOOK ME OVER A WEEK BUT I FINALLY GOT IN MY FIRST JACKUNZEL MONTH SUBMISSION

Basically came from a conversation on the RotBTD discord about how Jackunzel is basically just Manic Pixie Dream Girl x Manic Pixie Dream Boy XD But then I was like “no wait...what if they actually were Manic Pixie Dream Love Interests, but then they escaped their movies to get away from their boring surly broody protagonist love interests and then they fell in love with each other instead???” And well...the rest is history XD

(Rest assured the movie authorities and two very cranky multi-millionaire directors are definitely going to try and track our favorite Manic Pixie Escape Artists down. Not like it’ll be hard, since they’ll just go after whoever is teaching squirrels to dance in the park XD Hopefully the Thaddgela scheme will play out all right!!!

...it definitely will. Thaddeus x Angela is too funny a ship for me not to make it canon in this timeline. Thaddeus stays home all day and writes broody articles for an indie magazine while Angela makes bank for both of them at her Businessy Business Job. They own the biggest penthouse in New York and are loaded enough to buy all their groceries exclusively from Whole Foods and Sprouts. Meanwhile Jack and Punz eventually get a house where the front yard is so loaded with holiday decorations and overgrown flower gardens that you can barely get to the front door! Bless!)

Figured this was perfect for movie week!!! Sorry to get started so late, I’ve been a busy gorl ^^; Got quite a few submissions I’m prepping for song week, though!

Moodboard pic credits are available upon request!

#jackunzelmonth22 #jackunzelmonth #jackunzel #jack x rapunzel #rapunzel x jack #jackxrapunzel #rapunzelxjack #jack frost #rapunzel #rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #the big four #rise of the guardians #rotg #tangled #crossover

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gummybearzgocrazyagain · 3 years ago

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MALEC FIC REC vol.7

Bookstore AU

White Blank Page by @carmenlire [noice, CEO Magnus, serendipity meeting in a bookstore, misunderstandings, life that gets in a way of a star-crossed lovers, what more do we need? tis a rec]

One for the record (books) series by @noaki [mmmm, yummmmm-yum-yummmmm, what a delicious piece, is very much recommended to everyone who likes a good ole’ will they won’t they pine fest, i really enjoyed author’s breezy style. magnus is a high warlock in hiding, and owns a mundane book store as a cover, and alec is a new hoti, that just happens to visit the store on a whim, and just happens to not recognize the owner, oops. absolutely lovely and a pleasant read]

Prison AU

1825 days by @Better_Than_Chocolate [mmmm.... very very specific rec, due to many reasons. Prison AU might not be everyone’s cup of tea, so proceed with caution. alec was convicted of a murder, and when he gets to the big house, he must choose sides. if am being completely honest, i did appreciate some of the choices author has decided on rather more than some others, but am still tentatively leaving it here, just in case someone would fancy to dip their toe]

Sport/Celebrity AU

Let’s Play Ball! by @Teal_The_Baker [Celebrity AUs are reeeeeeeally up my alley ngl, so am slightly biased in recc’ing this, but hey, where are them fanfic cops, amirite. magnus is just wealthy, but alec is a local baseball player celebrity-type, and even though they initially get off on a wrong foot, it is quickly fixed, and the usual malec-y fluffy thang ensues. ought to be honest, it did seem like the author themselves were not exactly sure how this gonna play out in terms of dynamics right off the bat, but by chapter two they seemed to have picked a course, and what a lovely sweet choice it was. i really liked this one]

Flipside by @apathyinreverie [martial arts AU. dunno if it was author’s intention, but to me this particular characterization gave off heavy TWI vibes - confident alec, and reserved, calm magnus. wouldn’t call it ooc, cause it was an obvious AU, and author made their intentions known beforehand. i def liked it👌]

Reserved by @punkbean [not a sport!celebrity thang, but an IGcelebrity!magnus and archery trainer!alec, so technically it fits. the fic is abandoned, it is only the first 4 chapters of the meet cute on a train ride from NYC to Washington, but it somehow endeared itself to me and had to be recc’ed on here, sweetness]

Tattoos

A Legacy in Ink by @Teal_The_Baker [aaaaaaaaaa, why did i read itttttttttt, i almost never read wip for this precise reason *tears at her hair in despair* what an awesome fucking thang, awesome awesome awesome unfinished wip thang *cries* magnus is a tattoo-artist, and alec is having his first tattoo done... you know the drill. the fic is so fucking great, and so fucking wip *cries some more*]

Inklings by @apartmented [i might not necessarily read pwps often, but when i do - they shall be of such a superb quality as this one. tattoos kink, smitten mundane neighbours malec, and top notch smut - thanks to @cuubism for the rec]

Emo AU

all this hope you sent into the sky by @beatperfume [you know you would read anything this author wrote, i know i would fo’ sho’ - it is a throwback to 2003, alec and aline are bffs, and they go to this farm house parties to listen to the live bands, and then some insolent a-hole throws some line at alec, which must be an insult.... right? blah blah blah who cares, it’s @beatperfume, what else needs to be said]

Witcher AU

Walkers of the Winding Path by @poemsfromthealley [how are you doing thissssss (o゜▽゜)o☆ (●ˇ∀ˇ●) perfect perfect perfection this fic!!!!!! and i haven’t ever played/read the Witcher, and was still floored!!!! like, how does so much talent fit in one human body (❤ ω ❤); that moment alec encounters the female archer in the woods? dude, i legit cried, what a fucking masterpiece, god i luv the author, and if someone has not yet read this, what are you doing with your life...?????? seriously!!!!]

Canon Divergence

Two’s company, three’s a whole lot of Alec Lightwood eye rolls by @all_stories_are_truth_and_lies [weeeeeee, adorableness of malec, interrupted: cockblocking!jace is one of my top crack tropes of choice, what a tasty thang, thank you author!!!!]

To Something New, Something Strange by @dreadwyrms [porn with feels: superb quality of the second time served, and what a treat it is - magnus was supposed to pick alec up for their date, except he has already arrived at the institute, and alec is nowhere to be found. escaping to alec’s room and chilling on his bed seems like a great idea, especially if one falls asleep and then being woken up by a certain shadowhunter back from patrol in the middle of the night 🙈]

Taken AU

exit wounds by @geniusorinsanity [woahhhhh, this was... certainly an experience, and a journey more than worthy of taking, ohhhhhhh how do i luv me some taken aus, when they are executed just right🙏 magnus has been taken from the loft, and absent for a week, and then suddenly appears in the middle of Cat’s living room, nude and bloodied, and on the verge of collapse. amazing quality of fic, i was at awe throughout the whole journey, the way author portrayed the emotional repercussions, the parabatai connection, alec’s unravelling and inner turmoil, his and cat’s dynamic...? beautifully, very skilfully done, allllllllll the kudos and respect to the author, and a huge rec. p.s. the story might take a toll and stay with you for a few days, so heed the warnings and proceed at your own discretion]

Media AU

as your sun sets (i know you in bleary-eyed 3 am) by @theprophetlemonade [hard to distinguish why have i put reading this off for so long, god knows i adore the author, maybe it’s the fact that it’s wachowskis, who for some reason are something that can be so personal to me... darn it, if i ever come by the malec Matrix AU, is2g might spontaneously combust on a spot, but hey, am getting side-tracked here 🙌 the fic is everything you would expect from this renown author, and it makes you feel all types of ways. am sure literally every single person in the fandom has already read it, so my rec is quite pointless, and yet]

Royal AU + Fake Dating

I’ll be home for Christmas by @Raindropsandrosess [perhaps due to canon shadowhunters being paid very modestly, AUs with alec being the rich one do somehow come rarer, than rich!magnus AUs, not to mention, that amongst the fair share of Royal AUs this fandom boasts, it is always a surprise, when magnus is not the one being secret Royalty... all that said, i really really liked this one! their chemistry in the author’s interpretation left me super happy, and c'mon, let’s be honest, i can read quality variations of fake dating endlessly, cause duh]

College AU

Introduction to Flirtation by @EllasticElla [hhhmmmmm, so the premise of this is quite... unlikely for me: Alec does not know, how to let his bff Jace know, that he likes him, subtly enough to not ruin the friendship, if it does not work out, and enlists some help from a known dorm lothario Magnus. and after reading i was surprised at my own positive reaction - in 99,9% of cases romantic!jalec makes me hella queasy - but then it hit me.... hasn’t this storyline been 100% canon, like, what am i even having this moral battle over? it’s a good smol fic! but yeah fuck romantic!jalec all the way to hell though]

Primate Social Behavior by @dreadwyrms [omfg how fucking awesome was thattttttttttt, like, what an absolute and undeniable treat 😍so alec is working on his PhD, and GAing for an Anthropology Prof, and his life runs perfectly messy and perfectly boring, until said Prof has a heart-attack, and a replacement must be called in, which means one M.Bane must put the research he is currently conducting in Costa Rica on hold, and come back to the University, to assume the workload for the rest of the semester. the way this author does malec, and tentative buzzing tension between them, and longing, is simply mouth-watering and delicious, i would read them endlessly, what a great great great treat of a story]

Reconciliation Trope

One Traveler, Long Stood by @thenorthfaceporn [the definition of top notch dumbassery - having had suddenly realized you’ve never actually recc’ed one of your fav stories. to be completely fair, the first time i’ve read it was while being sick with covid, so... not much of common sense was being had during that particular week, but nonetheless, absence of this rec is a crime: tis literally one of the best best thangs written in this trope, periodt. masterpiece no cap.]

Magical Realism AU

The Stair into the Sea by @poemsfromthealley [god damn this author for their sheer magnificence, it is impossible to not feel intellectually inadequate after reading their works, like, the quality of writing...??? how do you do dissssssssss *screams into the void* so this is set is some kind of AU, where Magnus is a writer, and he has lost someone long time ago, and now it is time for him to confront his past and deal with the grief. so he sets on the path to get to the bottom of the tragedy that took someone from him, and this is what brings him to alec....aggghhhrrrrr, my summary is all clumsy, but yeah, this here is one of the fandom’s best authors no cap, go read all their works asapppppppppp]

#malec #malec fic #malec fic rec #malec fanfic #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic rec #damn i've done it again

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amoristt · 3 years ago

Text

Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

__________________________

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?”

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him.

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this.

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red.

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you.

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.”

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it.

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?”

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.”

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy.

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip.

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy. As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.”

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be.

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke.

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind.

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find.

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.”

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse.

-----------

In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable.

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look.

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began.

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan.

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?”

You lowered your head.

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot.

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled.

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?”

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod.

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again.

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly.

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust.

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that?

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person?

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once.

No one believed you.

---------

With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew.

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under.

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed. How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you.

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions.

No wonder he was so angry.

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call.

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.”

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing.

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.”

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.”

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again.

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy. He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right?

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger.

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying.

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos.

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh.

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up.

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?”

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot.

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.”

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.”

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm.

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

#nathan prescott #nathan prescott x reader #life is strange #grazing the fire #scenario #fanfic #fluff

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