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soulmate-game · 5 years ago

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I might make this a tumblr only mini-series of connected oneshots, and I might or might not put them up on AO3 when they are all done. We’ll see how I feel.

I know I submitted this AU to Multifandomscribette, but this is my take on the prompts I gave them. This is not the same AU, and I am not using their headcanons. Just the same basic premise of Marinette being Stephen Strange’s biological daughter.

You know Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, but this story is about

Lady Strange, the Grand Guardian.

What is with this family and alliteration?!

—*—*—*—*—*

Stephen Strange was a narcissistic, emotionally constipated bastard. But he was rich, well known, and handsome, which counted for a lot when he decided he needed some time to relax, unwind, maybe with another human.

And when Sabine Cheng realized what had happened, that night she had catered for a high society medical conference gala in the States, she vowed to never drink again.

She also vowed to never tell Strange about the child growing in her womb. The only person she ever told about her child’s true origin was Tom Dupain, the man she started dating a month after her chance encounter with Doctor Stephen Strange. Nine months after that, when Marinette was almost a month old, she would propose to Tom in blatant disregard of tradition. She would be waiting for years if she wanted Tom to get up the courage to ask her, and even though it hadn’t been a full year yet Sabine knew what she wanted. Seeing the gentle way Tom held her daughter, their daughter, seeing the way he looked at the little baby as if she hung the stars for him, well that only solidified the little Chinese woman’s love for the french man.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng would not know about her true father’s origin until she was twelve, when a science lecture at school had her asking Sabine who had blue eyes in each of their blood lines.

When Sabine hesitated, Marinette knew instantly that something was wrong. Sabine never hesitated. She was a whirlwind of decisiveness, always knowing what to say and how to act. Hesitation wasn’t a part of her.

Sabine told her everything. How her biological father was someone she only met once, how he was a successful surgeon who had won many medical awards. How he didn’t know she existed.

Of course, Marinette was immediately obsessed. Hurt by her mother’s secrecy, she turned her feelings of betrayal into curiosity and researched everything that there was to research about Stephen Strange. Apparently blue eyes ran on his side of the family. His own were more icy than hers, closer to a blue-gray, but familiar all the same. Both his parents were already dead though, so there went her hope of having another set of grandparents.

Marinette even went so far as to read the research papers he had written, and did follow-up research until she understood as much of it as she could. It helped that Professor Mendeleiev was more than willing to sit down and go over the medical papers with her so they could try to understand it all together.

One day, while Marinette was sewing a new dress, she paused with her needle in the air and stared at her fingers. After that day, she took much more pride than before in how steady her hands were. Her father was a surgeon, it must have been a biological trait. She clung onto anything that connected her to the oh-so mysterious Stephen Strange.

And then came Marinette’s thirteenth birthday. The same day that Stephen Strange was in a car accident and deemed in critical condition.

If Marinette kept an app for American news sources on her phone and set them to alert her if the name of her biological father was mentioned in any reports? Well, her parents didn’t need to know.

She didn’t tell her parents about the reason she was so morose for the rest of the day. She didn’t tell anyone.

She cried herself to sleep when Doctor Stephen Strange was declared to have irreversible nerve damage in his hands, and again when he went missing on a mysterious “vacation” that no media sites seemed to have any information on. She didn’t know why she felt so much connection and pain for someone she had never met, but she couldn’t help it. She would keep researching, keeping her eyes out for any mention of the man online without any luck.

That is, until Master Fu and the Miraculous entered her life. Slowly, she began to neglect her obsession with her biological father. Her passing crush on Adrien Agreste even faded away, never having much traction to begin with because of her overlying concern for the father that didn’t even know he had a daughter.

When Marinette was fourteen, the city of Paris was flooded and she had to swim through the quickly bloating bodies of the dead in order to defeat an Akuma. She reversed the damage and everyone who died was resurrected with no memory of their demise, but Marinette would never forget. All it took was a glimpse of the wrong face on the streets and she would be overcome with a panic attack, with the sight of glassy eyes and blue faces.

That was when Hawkmoth’s attacks picked up in intensity. When people began to die during Akuma attacks more frequently. When Marinette stopped sleeping in quite so much.

Her obsession over her father was a mere footnote by then, something she would idly look into on her ever increasingly rare free time with no success.

When Marinette was fifteen years, six months, two weeks, and two days old, Master Fu died. Marinette assumed the alias of Lady Strange, alongside her identity of Ladybug, so that the Miraculous wielders could contact her and know she was the new Guardian without knowing that she was also their leader in the field.

On the one year anniversary of Lady Strange being the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous, there was a worldwide magical disturbance.

Unlike Fu, Marinette did not limit herself to reacting to Miraculous problems.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Stephen glided back down from the equivalent of thousands of years bargaining and dying with Dormammu, he expected Hong Kong to be in a mess. It had been, from what he remembered of the scene before he created the time loop.

But it wasn’t. Instead, the streets looked as if no damage at all had been created. Kaecilius and his remaining zealots were tied up, quite literally, in what looked like string and hung upside down from a lamp post. Sitting down on the curb of the sidewalk and giving him a dangerously sharp glare was a young woman in a spotted costume, a mask over her face. When Strange realized he could not get any of her features to stick in his memory, he realized what she was.

Another magic user, but different from a Sorcerer. Her Neptune blue eyes bore into him with an intensity he was wholly unprepared for, but had no problem baring. After dying almost a million times, a guy tends to grow a backbone of vibranium.

Wong and Mordo stood on either side of the girl, both at a respectful distance. Wong had this wide-eyed look on his face, so much more expressive than usual that it caught the new Sorcerer Supreme off guard. Wong looked… awed?

Mordo, on the other hand, was regarding the girl with a look of barely disguised disdain and distrust. That was in character though, so Stephen didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, he walked over even as his bargain with Dormammu kicked in and Kaecilius’s cult was banished to the Dark Dimension.

“You reversed the damage, then?” He asked without beating around the bush, glancing down briefly to assure that the Eye was, indeed, still on him. It was. The girl stood up, her eyes continuing to blaze with an unknown soup of emotion.

“I did,” she confirmed easily. It wasn’t until he stopped only a few feet away from her that the sorcerer noticed how small she was. The only detail his mind allowed to stick with him besides that fact was that she also looked young. Too young to have to deal with a mess like this. “You might not know of me. The Temple Of Guardians made a deal centuries ago that all records of their existence and our own magic be removed from any Sorcerer sanctums.”

“The temple that appeared in Tibet out of nowhere more than a year ago?” Strange asked, eyebrow raised. “I remember the Ancient One briefly mentioning how much of a hassle it was to hide their reappearance and teleport the temple’s location somewhere new. I was under the impression that all the members of that temple have been in a pocket dimension separate from this reality for almost two hundred years.”

“They have,” the girl confirmed with a nod. “But before that, one of the Guardians escaped that fate. He became the Grand Guardian, and was my teacher until he passed last year. He named me the new Grand Guardian to take his place,” she turned, looking at something that Stephen couldn’t see. “I have illusions keeping us from being seen by the crowd, but it would be better if we took this inside the sanctum,” she said, nodding her head to the Hong Kong Sanctum’s door behind them. Strange simply nodded, more than willing to distract himself from his immeasurably long torture by indulging his curiosity. If this girl showed up and went out of her way to repair the damage the sorcerers and Kaecilius caused, then he wanted to know why.

“Wait,” Mordo barked, walking up to have a heated discussion with Strange that ended in the former storming off. Stephen knew he should be concerned about his former friend’s desertion, but he couldn’t muster up the energy for it yet. Focusing on the mysterious girl in a ladybug suit was an easier topic for his exhausted mind to latch onto.

When they got inside, the Sorcerer Supreme saw that she had even reversed the damage in the building. He saw a few scattered disciples rubbing their heads and looking around in confusion from their spots crouched on the floor. Stephen was almost certain he had seen those same people as corpses before.

The ladybug-spotted girl had scarcely removed her gaze from him for even a second, and easily picked up on the older man’s train of thought.

“My powers reversed all the damage I could handle, including physical wounds and death,” she told him. Strange blinked.

“That explains why I thought you all looked odd. Your clothes are spotless and you don’t look like you’ve fought at all,” he directed that comment to Wong, who merely nodded. “But that doesn’t explain how you can do such a thing. I’ve been intensely studying magic and magic theory for the past almost three and a half years, and I haven’t come across any healing spell that can be this effective without the subject of the healing themselves helping to work the power through their body. I know you are not a sorcerer like we are, but what exactly is your magic? Who are the Guardians? And who exactly are you?”

The girl pursed her lips, waiting until the two older men led her to the still-wrecked tea room. Her power hadn’t been able to reach that far when she had to focus on reviving so many people without the regular Cure. That only worked on victims of Miraculous magic, what she used on the Hong Kong streets and the Sorcerers was a more advanced usage of Tikki’s powers that she learned from both Fu and her periodic visits to the Tibet temple.

“The Guardians are a group of monks dedicated to the protection and distribution of Miraculous, which is essentially magic jewelry. I would normally go on to say how this might sound unbelievable, but you have a very similar pendant around your neck right now,” she pointed out once they all sat and Wong conjured some tea for them all. Stephen tensed at her mention of the Eye of Agamotto, his eyes narrowing. Did she..?

“I know what is inside the Eye,” she confirmed his silent thought, her voice soft but firm. “And I don’t care about it in the slightest. It is probably a good reference point for my explanation though. At the birth of the universe—“

“The Stones came into existence, each one representing and controlling a core aspect of reality,” Strange interrupted impatiently. “I am the Sorcerer Supreme, girl, I already know that.”

The young female rolled her eyes, huffing. “If you listened patiently, you would know that the story you were told is only partially true,” she snapped back with false patience. “The Stones were not the only things of great power to be created during the birth of the universe. Kwami, the first living beings to be born, were also created. They are each living representations of abstract concepts, some of which overlap with the powers of the Stones. The first to be born is the Kwami of Creation. She is essentially the goddess of creation itself, the living embodiment of that very term in every way. She is the source of my abilities, she lends me her power as I am her chosen Wielder. It is that same power of creation that allowed me to essentially counteract the destruction that was caused today, by having a condensed form of her power combat the direct source of the destruction and nullify it. The second Kwami to come into existence is her counterpart and the only one equal to her in power, the Kwami of destruction. There are a lot more, including the Kwami of illusion that used her power to keep us from being seen outside. And the Kwami Of time, which allowed me to experience the time loop you created,” the girl’s eyes sharpened again, boring into his own. “I left it after the equivalent of a few weeks, when I realized I couldn’t join you and do anything to help. The Kwami Of Time is about two-thirds as powerful as the Stone by itself, and there are more than double the amount of Kwamis as there are Infinity Stones,” she took a deep breath. “My job as Grand Guardian is protecting all of them, and distributing the jewelry they are bound to as necessary to combat world or reality threatening events.”

Strange remained quiet after that, drinking in the information and doing his best to wrap his head around it. Perhaps this young woman wouldn’t mind telling him more at a later date, especially seeing as they held equivalent ranking in two separate secret magical organizations. His eyes trailed down to a necklace she was wearing.

“How many of these pieces of jewelry—“

“Miraculous,” She corrected. “That is what they are called.”

“... Miraculous, then. How many are you capable of wielding at once, if they are so similar in strength to a Stone?” Wond asked, crossing his arms. The pigtailed girl leaned back from her spot sitting on the ground with them, humming in thought for a second as she decided what to tell them. A glance at Stephen seemed to make up her mind.

“Creation and Destruction hold equal power to a Stone. The Miraculous one stage lower than that hold four-fifths the power of a Stone. The last tier, where the Time Miraculous sits, is two-thirds,” she told them from memory. “I can wield Illusion, which is on the second tier, along with two third-their, and both Creation and Destruction at the same time,” she admitted. “But it saps a lot of my energy and I rather not ever do that again, if you don’t mind. I can wield all of the Miraculous though, since all of the Kwamis like me and are loyal. I can wear any three at a time, and I can switch between them as quickly as I need to.”

Strange really needed some sleep. Five thousand year’s worth of sleep would be nice. He ran a hand over his forehead, wondering who in the world gave this much responsibility and power to a child.

“One last question, and then you can spend the night if you wish, we’ll begin reconstruction of all the Sanctums in the morning,” Stephen spoke, forcing his back to straighten and his eyes to meet the girl’s. “You never answered it, actually. Who are you?”

The girl's mouth twitched in the first semblance of a smile he had seen on her yet.

“When I am in this transformation, I am Ladybug the hero of Paris,” she said with a grin. “Spots off.”

A soft pink glow ran down her body, very similar to the ring of power that sling rings produced to make portals. It left behind an adorable teenage girl with blue-black hair pulled back into pigtails, and striking blue eyes. She was clearly of Asian descent, but there was something else very familiar about the sharpness of her jaw or the stubbornness in her lip.

“My real name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. However, I go by an alias whenever I act as Grand Guardian, so that there is an extra layer of secrecy to protect me and my loved ones. I created that alias based on my biological father, who was never told that I was even conceived,” she said meaningfully, never losing eye contact with Stephen. His eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s pitiful, but what does—“

“My alias is Lady Strange.”

Wong barked out a short laugh before he forcibly covered his mouth, his eyes filled with sadistic amusement as he watched Strange’s reaction. The elder Strange, that is.

The new leader of the Sorcerers opened and closed his mouth like a fish, completely caught off guard. He looked over to Wong.

“Is there a spell to test paternity?” He asked warily. Marinette’s smile fell a bit, but Wong nodded.

A few flashes of orange light and two green ‘99% Match’ results later, Strange let his head fall into his hands.

“Alright, Marinette,” he finally managed to mumble through the slightly trembling appendages still covering his face. “I just spent thousands of years in a time loop with the Lord of Chaos, my back aches, my head aches, I will deal with this in the morning. Or whenever I wake up. Figures my own blood relation would end up in a position of extreme magical power, must be genetic. I still have questions, but sleep comes first. Don’t expect me to be a good parent. I really need sleep.”

Marinette just giggled, standing up and helping her father to his feet with surprising ease. “Just tell me where to go and I can drop you off in your room. No more magic for the rest of the day, you’re clearly spent. And as long as you make an effort, I’ll be fine. But don’t expect to ignore me and I’ll just go away, I have ways to track you to the ends of the universe and across the multiverse and time itself, and I will not hesitate.”

“Yep, she’s your daughter alright.”

“Sleep, Wong. It’s good for the brain.”

#mlb x marvel #doctor stephen strange #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #doctor strange #no romantic pairing yet #Only familial pairing right now

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captcas · 4 years ago

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exile

exile by capthamm

it took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it, holdin' all this love out here in the hall... i can see you staring honey, like he's just your understudy

part four of capthamm’s captain swan’s folklore read on ao3 / read the ao3 series

Killian ignores the look of pity etched across Robin’s face as he pours another shot. Robin’s stern looks are just another reminder that his life has turned into a literal three ring circus.

Alright, not a literal one but his point remains. He just wishes he was playing the part of ring leader and not the sad clown.

Killian’s train of thought is derailed at the sound of her voice. He can’t tell what she’s saying, and against his better judgement he glances towards where she sits. As she places her hand on his shoulder, Killian swears the same spot on his own burns white hot. It’s then that he slams the shot, the rum no longer burning as it coats his throat, as he catches Robin shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

Pathetic.

As Killian gets up to leave, Neal shoots him a grateful look while she’s distracted by something on her phone. He grimaces in response and attempts to tune out Neal’s carefully rehearsed line as he pushes on the door of the old pub.

“Neal, I can't dance,” she protests. “Nonsense, there's only one rule, pick a partner—“

The door slams but Killian’s mind is apt to finish the sentence on it’s own— he is the one who came up with it after all.

Disgruntled, he shoves his hands in his pockets and begins the cold walk home, leaving his car to be retrieved in the morning once his libations wear thin— assuming he lets them. His mind can't help but wonder what other tips Neal used on his date with Emma tonight. He had advised his old friend not to use them all in one evening, but chances are Neal will be knocking on his door in the morning wondering what the next steps are and how Killian would go about taking them.

How in the hell did he end up here?

Two months ago, it would’ve been Killian in that booth, Emma’s hand lightly touching his bicep as conversation flows easily between them. As quickly as it began, their entire thing came to a screeching halt. Before he could fathom what happened, Neal was at the docks begging Killian to help now that Emma finally asked him out.

He’d never suffocated before but he’s positive it’d feel startlingly similar to the pain he felt as he processed what Neal had said.

Fourteen days. Five kisses. Two secret dates. That was all he got with Emma Swan before she decided (much like many other women in his life) that he was better left a friend than loved as more. If they’re even friends anymore. He can’t say he blames her, he just wishes he knew why. Their friendship had always developed with ease, many of their mutual acquaintances supposedly taking bets for how long it’d be until it formed into something more. No one won, because no one even knew it happened. Not to mention Emma and Killian moved at their own pace and waited 16 years after meeting to give it a go.

Her pinky wraps with his, “Promise me we are friends first and that I have a clean out if you are an awful kisser.” “I promise, Swan, that we are friends first, and also that I am most certainly not an awful kisser.”

She slaps his arm with her other hand as she squeezes her pinky tighter. They may be approaching thirty years of age, but pinky promises hold the same weight as they did at twelve. She rolls her eyes, “Uh huh, sure. We’ll see about that, KJ.”

It’s practically unfathomable to him that their promise was less than three months ago and yet everything has changed. He always thought he knew Emma better than he knew himself, but her dismissal of him proved to be a massive blindside, no warning in sight.

Worse was the lack of return to their normal friendship and the subsequent breaking of their initial promise, but he probably should’ve expected something like this. Emma is an enigma. Beautiful, and funny, and driven and strong, but also a bloody mystery.

For fourteen perfect days he thought they may finally get their shot at what he'd hoped would be something brilliant. But brilliant was not in the cards for Killian— it hadn’t been most of his life and it seems, when it came to his feelings for Emma, it would be no different.

Now it’s her and Neal and it has been for the better part of a month and a half. The kicker is, it’s all thanks to Killian. Neal couldn’t charm a girl to save his life and wasted no time in resorting to asking Killian for guidance. Little does he know, Killian’s head over heels for the woman he’s trying to swoon.

Details.

He helps craft text messages and gifts as well as aids in the planning for their numerous dates. Killian pulls from the depths of his love for Emma, because all he really wants is for her to be happy. He’d hoped that he’d play a part in that equation one way or another, and while he supposes he does have a role, he never would’ve guessed it would be in this way.

While he remains lost in thought, he somehow finds himself back at his flat. As he ascends the old staircase, he has to catch himself from tripping up the top step. He can’t help but be distracted by the woman sitting against his apartment door.

“Took you long enough, KJ.” She smiles at him and it sparks emotion in him he didn’t realize he was harboring. It seems over a month of watching her fall for his carefully coached understudy has finally gotten under his skin. How can she smile at him as though nothing has changed?

Tempering his anger, he answers her a shrug. She seems to get the message and moves out from in front of his door as he looks down to search for his key.

Bloody hell.

Robin insisted he leave his car keys– with no argument from Killian– but he had forgotten to remove the flat key from his ring. Defeated, Killian leans his head forward until it connects with the cool wood of his front door. For a moment he forgets he’s not alone, the small buzz of alcohol messing with his usual tack sharp retention, but soon Emma is digging in her purse and pulls out the spare key he gave her long before.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Killian.”

“Calm down, Swan, I’m not proposing you move in. I just want you to have it in case of emergencies.”

She shrugs and he’ll be damned if there wasn’t a slight hint of disappointment in her eyes. “Fair enough. Call me next time you’re too drunk to remember to take your key ring.”

He shakes the memory from his head as Emma unlocks the door. Killian continues inside and she waits, hesitating in the frame of the door. “When did we get like this, Swan?” He winces as the words leave his mouth, but the damage is done. Apparently rum effects more than his short term memory, leaving his carefully placed filter seemingly full of gaping holes.

At first she looks taken aback, but she must reason that she deserves this on some level because she sighs deeply and answers his pointed question, “I broke the pinky promise.”

That was not what Killian was expecting, but he answers all the same, “Aye, I s’pose we both did.”

Emma shakes her head. “KJ– Killian… you and I both know that’s not true.” Killian starts to interject but she continues before he gets the chance, “You’ve put me first since the moment we met, and even more so over the past month. Even after I just… I just feel so stupid to not have seen it before now…”

Emma trails off and Killian wraps his mind around what she’s saying– it doesn’t take long for him to realize that she knows. “How?” He meant for something more profound or curious, but the words escaped him– anything polysyllabic seeming near impossible to comprehend.

Emma rolls her eyes, but he can tell the annoyance is not directed at him. He can always tell when it comes to Emma– that’s why he was so certain they were made for one another. “Neal asked to pinky swear that I’d go on a date with him next week and apparently you didn’t know I reserved those just for you. Not to mention the glare you gave him back at Sherwood’s probably could’ve killed someone. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together...”

Killian didn’t know pinky swears were reserved for him, but to be honest, he didn’t know anything Emma did was reserved for anyone. Emma Swan is a firecracker set off in the middle of January. She lights her own path and kicks down her own doors. Fierce independence is the first trait that always comes to Killian’s mind, most likely a product of the absolute shit life she led growing up. She never let it phase her. The admiration he holds for this woman is leaps and bounds beyond what he thought capable for any one man, yet she stands here today starting an awkward conversation and standing her ground and he couldn’t be more entranced.

He loves her.

“You broke your promise.” That’s certainly not what he wanted to say, but he supposes just because he’d walk through fire for her, doesn’t mean the pain won’t linger.

“I was scared, KJ.” He scoffs, he doesn’t mean to, not really, but he knows Emma doesn’t get scared. She’s as fearless as they come.

“You don’t get scared, Emma.” She flinches at his use of her real name but recovers quickly.

“Hah,” Emma laughs sarcastically. She seems to think he’s kidding but he can tell the moment she recognizes the sincerity of this moment. She whispers, “You terrify me, Killian.”

His heart breaks a little and with its crack, the flood gates open; the anger that washes away bringing to light all that he’s been denying for the better part of 16 years. He’s scared of her, too. Scared she could do real damage, scared she could break him to the point of no return, but Killian is a risk taker. He always has been, especially if that risk involves Emma Swan. He thought she was a risk taker too, but she chose to play it safe.

Because she feels the exact same way.

It hits him like a tidal wave, and he says the first thing he can think of, “I could never hurt you, Swan.” He hopes she can hear the conviction in his voice, his words ringing truer than any he’s spoken before.

“Most people who fall in love don’t intend to hurt one another, Killian.” He realizes what she’s saying but he can’t help but get hung up on one word:

Love.

She loves him. She may not know it yet, but she does. That’s enough for him to try.

He steps forward, every inch with less hesitation until they’re standing toe to toe. He can smell remnants of the bar on her, but it’s mixed with her comforting scent of cinnamon and vanilla that he’s come to recognize as his favorite. He’s positive he still smells like a barrel of Captain Morgan, but the buzz he feels is no longer from the rum. (Apparently emotional revelations are a quite sobering.)

“I’m all in, Swan.” He pauses. “Please don’t push me away.”

She doesn’t look at him, but he feels her fingers brush the hem of his vest and he can’t stop the shiver that rushes up his spine. It only intensifies when she speaks, “I can’t promise I won’t run again.”

“Aye,” he gently grabs her chin, urging her to look him in the eye, “but I promise, so long as you want me, I’ll be there to chase you and bring you home.”

She smiles brightly and starts to lean in for a kiss before stopping abruptly and raising her pinky to eye level, “Pinky swear?”

Killian can’t help but laugh as he once again connects his pinky to hers, “Pinky swear, Swan.”

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs ff au #emma swan #killian jones #capthamm #captain swan's folklore #taylor swift #exile taylor swift #angsty angst that’s angsty

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salemroleplayhq · 3 years ago

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❝Grace is just weakness, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been cold, I’ve been merciless.❞

MEET...

Raymond Nathaniel “Nate” Blackwood Jr.

Age: 31

Birthday: April 27, 1991

Gender/Pronouns: Cis-Male / he/him

Hometown: San Francisco, CA

Length of time in Salem: 1 week

Occupation: COO of Blackwood Industries

Faceclaim: Matthew Daddario

HIS STORY

They say heavy is the head that wears the crown. The Blackwoods weren’t royalty of course, but in the high society of San Fransisco, the name carried weight. It meant something. It wasn’t just a name, it was an expectation. A legacy. And, for Nate, it was his biggest adversary.

Raymond Nathaniel Blackwood Jr. had been set up to fail from the beginning. In a true show of narcissism, his father had bestowed his name and every impossible expectation upon his infant son. He was six the first time he realized he didn’t like the way his hair looked when it was gelled and combed to the side. He hadn’t remembered ever making the decision for himself. So, that day, he’d worn it air-dried and shaggy. At breakfast, his father looked over the top of his newspaper, told him he looked like he belonged on the street, and went back to reading. His hair was gelled again the next day.

At ten, he’d grown to hate the stuffy button-ups, dress pants, and above-the-knee shorts that filled his closet. When he chose to dress himself in a t-shirt and jeans, his father had offered him only a withering glance and asked if he was going out in public that way. Nate, embarrassed and thoroughly shamed, had told him no, of course not, and went back upstairs to change.

He was fourteen when he first expressed interest in business. It was, perhaps, the only thing he seemed to have in common with his father. He was invited to sit in on an official businessl meeting— something small and insignificant, but it felt like a grand gesture— and he jumped at the chance. He’d spent the better part of three hours listening to the old men drone on and on and when it was over, his father asked him what he thought. His father never asked him for his opinion, so he knew it was the time to impress. Nate told him the things he’d change, the ways he thought they could help the people more. When his father called him an idealist, he made it sound like a bad word. He wasn’t invited to another meeting again.

It was at fifteen when Nate realized that he could never please his father. Gaining his approval was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. He bent over backwards trying to be the man his father wanted him to be at the expense of the person he actually was and it was never enough. And tragically, it didn’t stop him from trying. He turned into the marionette his father seemed to want, allowed him to pull the strings on who he should date, what he should like, and wear, and be. There was an image— a standard— to uphold as a Blackwood after all. His father never let him forget that he never quite made the cut.

At seventeen, things changed. In a rare act of defiance, Nate took a girl he was dating (in secret, because his father would never approve of a girl from a no-name family) out for a joyride with his father’s Maserati. He’d never felt as free as he did hitting speeds in the triple digits, wind whipping through his hair as though he were flying. They stayed out for hours before they knew they had to come back. And that was where they ran into problems. He took a turn too sharp, too fast, and crashed into a tree. No one was seriously hurt but his father had been outraged. They had more than enough money to throw at the problem to make it go away, but the same couldn’t be said for the rumors. Word spread like wildfire through the gossip line of high society, and the Blackwoods were not immune. Nate found himself on thin ice.

The last nail in his coffin came at a gala when a woman struck up a conversation with him. She seemed nice enough and the desperate-for-attention fool that he was, he answered all of her questions with heart-bleeding honesty. And when the conversation turned to business, he told her all about the short-comings he believed he saw in his father’s business plan, and all the things he would have done differently-- better. It probably shouldn’t have surprised him when her article came out the following day detailing every sordid detail of the Blackwood son’s betrayal, but it did. There was no amount of money Raymond Blackwood could throw at that problem to make it go away, so he did the next best thing. He got rid of his son. Nate spent his senior year at a nauseatingly exclusive boarding school in Massachusetts. His father spun a story about the amazing opportunity it was for Nate and how proud he was that he’d been chosen. But with Nate securely on the opposite coast, he couldn’t damage his father’s reputation more than he, apparently, already had.

He wasn’t welcomed back to the Blackwood fold after graduation, so he remained on the east coast for college-- New York eventually calling his name.. The banished prince of the Bay found his bearings a little, free to explore who he was instead of who someone else wanted him to be. His flaws became glaringly obvious: he was quick to lose his temper and carried a chip on his shoulder that told him he wasn’t good enough. He struggled to cultivate meaningful relationships, quailed in social situations where he should have shined. But he began to find his footing on his own, began to carve a life for himself outside of expectation.

Shortly after his graduation from university, when he was finally beginning to learn how to not need his father’s approval to think something of himself, his past returned for him. An offer extended like an olive branch to begin the process of being groomed to one day take over the family business and serve as the head of the Blackwood Foundation while he learned— to return home and back into the Blackwood fold where he belonged— and he jumped at the chance. It seemed that beneath the years of careful rebuilding, he was still the little boy that needed his father to recognize his worth before he could see it for himself. So he traded in his life in New York for a job underfoot, a renewed hope to prove himself worthy. And for a while, things were good. Great, even. He met a girl, fell in love, bought a ring. He’d been so blinded by his need to be loved that he hadn’t realized that proposing had been more for his need to ensure she didn’t leave him more than it was because he was ready to start a family. It was still a gut-wrenching surprise when she left him shortly after accepting his ring.

And the blows didn’t stop there. An audit of his father’s shady business dealings citing bribery and collusion. Blackwood Industries released an official statement claiming that it had, in fact, been Nate spearheading those particular dealings and that he’d since stepped down from his position as head of the Blackwood Foundation. That had all, of course, been news to him and when he confronted his father, he’d explained that it would blow over soon enough and when it did, he had something even bigger in store for Nate. Alone and jobless with a tarnished reputation, Nate wallowed for a while. And then, one night, a woman wandered onto his property-- a single stretch of beach tucked away and meant to be his single escape from the world. Instead of running her off, though, they talked. And talking, somehow, led to more. Their relationship was not perfect-- in fact, between the two of them, they possessed the emotional maturity of a walnut-- but when it was good, it was good. So good, in fact, that when the dust finally settled and his father let him in on those plans he had for him which involved expanding the business to the east coast (something Nate had been insisting on for years), he asked her to go with him. And she said yes. So with the desperate need to prove himself, to clear his name, and to make this work with Fei, they made the move to Salem.

PERSONALITY

+ loyal, hardworking, idealistic

- quick-tempered, insecure, aloof

Nate is played JAMIE.

#nate blackwood #m #all #oc rp #town rp #city rp #lsrpg #original rp

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rebelcap · 5 years ago

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We are not just friends —Part 12

Chris Evans x bi!latina!character (Sofia is a people of color, she's brown.)

Chris and Sofia meet when their best friends started dating, it all started at friends with loads of bumps on the road.

Warnings: drinking, smoking, drug use (weed), assault, Chris being Steve Rogers, commitment issues, my girl Sofia kinda messy, lots of fucking (eventually)

This is slow burn at its best, at least emotionally.

Series masterlist

"You know friends with benefits never work, don't you?" Amanda told Sofia as she rolled her eyes and sigh.

"I don't wanna be his girlfriend," Sofia shrugged, setting her phone in silence as the Twitter and Instagram notifications kept coming. Apparently, people found out who she was and they were blowing up her phone. Obviously, she didn't acknowledge it.

"Says no woman ever,"

"I know, but—look," Sofia sighed again and sat straighter on the couch facing her friend, she looked around because they were in Amanda's parent's house about to lunch. "He's the first queer, nonwhite, Latina, immigrant woman he ever wanted to date, I mean look at all of his exes."

"Okay, he's definitely into brunettes and white,"

"Yes, there's a part of me that's thinking that maybe he's…" Sofia tried to think of a subtle way to say it. "experimenting, and there's going to be nowhere and that left me high and dry when he realized that he's not that into me that much."

"Have you asked him?"

"No," She answered and Mandy just looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "He's going to say that's not true."

"Because it's not. Why does it seems like I know him more than you do, he never said anything remotely like that." She now rolled her eyes at her. "This is you sabotaging yourself, as usual."

"No, it's me trying to protect myself. I don't wanna fall in love with him and shit,"

"Again, talk with him. I'm sure he'll compromise with you at some level,"

"He's away all the time and I hate flying, I hate LA,"

"Oh my God,"

"I'm going to get all weird seeing him kissing other people," Sofia explained. "and he's going to think I'm an insecure, immature little girl that can't handle that." Sofia pouts and crosses her arms.

"Sofia," Her friend scoot closer on the couch and looked at her. "I heard you, about everything and I'm not trying to invalidate how you feel about it, but you need to communicate if you what this to work out for you."

"I'm scared Mandy, because I really like him," Her eyes got all glossy. "I know he's a good man but I'm scared shitless. I can't physically take another loss. You know how hard it was for me to leave my ex, just because of that and it got so fucking ugly on the end."

"I know, I was there," She said and her bottom lip tremble. " crying with you non stop for two years, I know but you know she's a piece of shit and took advantage of you because you were in a very vulnerable position."

"Yeah, I know," Sofia wipe her tears with the back of her hand and sighed, "Stop crying, you're making me cry,"

"I just want you to be happy, you're my best friend I love you so much," Amanda was full-blown sobbing hysterically as Sofia was holding her and chucking. "Capitan America wants to be your boyfriend stupid bitch," She kept sobbing and Sofia laughed.

"I know, I'm just emotional and I'm about to get my period, hormones."

"Your period?" Amanda asked separating and looked at her, pensively. "wait, what date is today?"

"It's the fourteen,"

"Oh,"

Sofia sat down straighter and give her a look. "Are you late?"

"Yeah," Amanda said looking down at her stomach. "Like, three weeks late."

Sofia looked at her belly and mutter. "Jesus, Maria y Jose."

"Holy shit." Amanda blinked a few times and they stare at each other for a full minute.

"Your dad it's going to fucking kill Luke."

~~~~

It's been around a week and a handful of days since the last time Sofia saw Chris, he was already in town since last night but he slept on his mom's house.

Also, Amanda was fucking pregnant.

You up?

She texted Chris at two am. Of course, he wasn't because he was an old man.

I gotta tell u something.

It's important and I need to tell someone I'm really bad at secrets, I just can't.

But you can't tell

I'll literally kill u,

And I'm getting away with it because I know too much about murder men, it's insane.

I'm up, I'm up. I'm watching a movie with Scott, he says hi and also wants to meet u and plot murder.

Also, what's the juicy secret?

Amanda is pregnant and your brother is way handsome than you.

Chris was calling almost immediately.

"Excuse me?"

"Amanda is having a baby,"

"No, about Scott being handsome than me," He asked and Sofia let out the loudest laugh, God she needed that.

"Oh my God, you're an idiot," She laughed. "I miss your face."

" I miss you, too." He laughed.

"Is Scott there?, we follow each other on Twitter and made fun of you."

"You two what," He asked and she could hear Scott laughing on the background. "You made fun of me with my girl?"

"Yeah, I slide in her DMS." Scott laughed and Chris was red as a tomato.

"Dude," He said and Sofia heard a lot of ow's and she laughed. "And about the other things, what the fuck?"

"Yes, I'm freaking out. Mandy's at Luke's house now but I don't know, she didn't text me. I can't sleep," She groaned and Chris stood quiet for a moment.

"Want me to come over?"

"Please?"

~~~

"Oh, hi," Sofia exclaimed as soon she opened the door, Chris grabbed her face and plant a quick kiss.

"Hi," He smiles, still cupping her face. "Hello," Chris kissed her again making her laugh.

"You dork," She said as she took his hand and took it to the kitchen, "Want something? I'm about to stress bake."

Chris laughed while he sat on the high chairs. "Mandy didn't text u?"

"No, dude. I'm freaking out, I know Luke it's the sweetest," She said giving her back to Chris as she measures some flour.

"He's going to be over the moon, I'm not supposed to tell you this but he's been thinking about proposing,".

Sofía was taken aback for a moment there but a huge smile, she turned around and look at him.

"Are our best friends getting married and having a kid?"

Chris laughed and nod, "Yeah, guess so?"

"Yeah," She smiles. "So weird," She turned around and Chris walked up to her, leaning on the counter beside her.

"Why?"

"Don't know, I'm happy don't get me wrong, I just. It's weird for me because it's," She stumbles over her words a little. "it's the first time I'm seeing this going right for someone I deeply care about."

Chris made a face and she laughed.

"I have really shitty examples on my life," She went again to her baking. "My mom and dad fought a lot, they had to get married because they were having my brother—

"Wait, you have a brother?," He asked, surprised. "You never mentioned him."

"We don't really speak, well I don't speak to him,"

"Why?"

Sofía pursed her lips together and give Chris a look, she didn't want him to think less of him or him judging her about what went down.

"Can we skip that part?"

Chris quickly nod, "Yeah, of course," He said putting a hand on her shoulder. "whenever you're ready,"

"Okay," She nod too and remained silent. "it's just, I'm sorry." Sofia took a deep breath and wipe a tear. "I've never had a normal family dynamics until I've meet Mandy's family and a still feel so out of place sometimes, it's weird—" She chuckles. "I'm weird."

"It's not weird, you're not weird. I've gathered that you went through some shit that no kid should go through," Chris said and Sofia stopped moving and looked at the bowl in front of her. "things that obviously hurt you still."

"Stop." She told him trying not to cry and took another deep breath trying to pass the lump on her throat but her lower lip was trembling.

"Hey, hey," Chris grabbed her and hugged her, but she pushed him away and went back to the counter.

"You like muffins?" She asked in a small voice and Chris just stare at her, he just shut him out on whatever it's going up with her. "Do you?"

"Yeah, yes. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," She nod.

Sofía was feeling like an idiot, she didn't want to be crying on his arm about her shitty life, to someone that obviously couldn't relate because he also had the perfect family, the perfect brothers. His fucking life was perfect. She didn't want him to see her like a wounded little girl.

"Sofia?"

"Just drop it, forget about it." She said going to the fridge and grabbed some milk.

"What? come on baby, you know you can talk about me about anything," Chris told her and she just chuckles. "Is this funny to you?"

"I can't talk to you about everything, there's a lot of things we can't relate to Chris." She quickly answered him.

"I know that, but I can listen. You can open up with me for fuck's sake," Chris said frustrated and Sofia sigh. "You're always shutting me out when we even slightly touch a subject you don't like, I've known you for like almost two years and I right now found out you have a brother. You know everything about me, you know my fucking whole family,"

"Yeah, and now you're now throwing it back at my face."

"I'm not throwing it back at your face, you can tell me anything, Sofia." He said and she shook her head.

"Why do you wanna know so bad? I'm just some girl you're fucking." She asked him and Chris was taken aback.

"You're not—is that what you think of me?, that I'm so guy you're fucking?"

"Are you not?" She asked nonchalantly and Chris lost his shit.

"Woow, that's how it is?, like I'm nothing to you." He said taking a step back.

"Why the fuck are you pushing this so much? what are you gonna do? I don't want your fucking pity and I don't fucking need you either." She was spitting venom at him, feeling attacked at everything he was doing.

"You're being a fucking asshole right now," He told her and Sofia rolled her eyes. "I just wanna know my fucking girlfriend."

"I'm most definitely not your girlfriend, I won't ever be your girlfriend" She answered and Chris just stared at her, feeling hurt.

"You know what, fuck you," he muttered angrily and turned around, nervous.

"There we go, pretty Chris don't get what he wants and he lashes out," She mumbled and pointed at him. "And now you leave,"

Chris rubbed his beard and grabbed his phone. "When you want talk this shit out, let me know. I'll be staying two more days and then I'm back in LA, you know I'm leaving for three months. Because I tell you all the shit I do," He pointed out again and Sofia just shrugged.

"Whatever, you know where the door is." She didn't even look at him, Chris was fuming. Sofía flinch when she heard the door shut.

~~~

Well, shit.

Tag list:

@smediumsmeatbae

@lunaticbarnes

@firstangeldragonranch

@lovepeacefood

@thegirlwithpaperheart

#chris evans fluff #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans #chris evans fic #Chris evans angst #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x latina!#chris evans x original female character #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader

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sparklyjojos · 6 years ago

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[THE CHILDISH DARKNESS Recaps, Chapter 8]

[tw: gore, adult-minor relationship, a bundle of homophobia / biphobia / transphobia]

--------

EIGHT

Saburou always told Kaede that she should find a honest, loyal and benevolent man, even if he himself wasn’t really any of these things. Every man Kaede tried to date sooner or later turned out to be awful, which inevitably led to a break up, sadness and – on a surprisingly large number of occassions – Saburou beating up the boyfriend of the week.

Nobody, not a single one of these men believed in becoming or having a partner whose love is honest, loyal and benevolent. But what about Saburou himself? He certainly believed there could exist a woman that had all these qualities. Just like all the girlfriends and wives of his friends: honest (not mentioning something to their partners technically wasn’t lying!), loyal (it’s not like they wanted to leave their husbands!), and benevolent (they forgave Saburou a lot!).

“I wouldn’t say that’s love,” Kaede said. “That’s something you understand when you get there. You never actually were in love, right?” Well, not really. “How about with me?” Idiot.

That being said, he cherished Kaede. He got angry at her good for nothing boyfriends and let her cry on his shoulder. In turn, Kaede forgave his flaws and kept hanging out with him. But that had to be only because they were good friends. Besides, his body never responded with arousal when in physical contact with her, so clearly that wasn’t love, right?

The love he felt for Yurio was different, but… she was thirteen, he twenty-nine. Just thirteen! This wasn’t something considered to be normal, and he definitely didn’t have a lolita complex or something! He’d really have to start dating single adult women from now on! Yurio should live her own life, get a boyfriend her age and grow up normally. He cared about her and so never attempted to kiss her or have intercourse, even if it was tempting.

When she told Kaede about his Yurio problem, Kaede called him a lolicon, reminded him that he’s an owner of a cram school filled with minors, overall questioned his morality and proposed giving himself up to the police.

Around the time Saburou had finished writing the third Runbaba novel, Kaede for whatever reason married their childhood friend Okamoto Yasuhiro (But really, with Okachi? Was he maybe not as strictly into guys as he had thought as a child?). The reaction of Saburou’s brothers and father to this news was to tell Saburou that he’s an idiot for passing the occasion to marry a good woman like her. Shirou – who knew about his many sexcapades -- told him without any qualms that maybe he should just cut his dick off. In hindsight, maybe it really would be better if he’d done that before it showed interest in a thirteen-year-old.

Saburou’s mother didn’t say anything back then, but he knew she was disappointed too. Kaede had often visited their house and earned the favor of the entire family. Even Maruo’s election committee member Mitamura Hidenori had said that Saburou found himself a nice girlfriend, and that she looked amusingly similar to Saburou’s mother in her youth. Maruo’s secretary Kato Satoshi replied that Saburou was still young and would surely meet a lot of nice women later (little knowing that Saburou had surely had a fruitful meeting with his granddaughter once).

What would Jirou say about it if he was still there? Back when Kaede had been in middle school and Jirou’s companion Kawai Kazuhiro attempted to date her, he got punched by Jirou so hard he flew a few meters away. Then Jirou used a cigarette to give him several burns on his right hand, arranging them in the shape of Cassiopeia (at that time burning constellations into people was his big ‘interest’). He also had Kazuhiro wear female underwear, knowing that when Kazuhiro and his twin brother Youji had been children, they were often made fun of for wearing cute feminine clothes and hairstyles their parents loved.

Jirou repeated all of the above later with Youji who had attempted to get revenge for his brother. Youji’s constellation of choice was the Big Dipper.

Without a doubt Jirou had some interest in Kaede. He never hurt her and she was about the only person in the entire prefecture who didn’t show fear in his presence. He never looked as relaxed as when talking with her.

Have Saburou married Kaede, maybe Jirou (if he was there) would beat him up too and burn Orion or something into his hand.

But hey, it’s not like Saburou’s relationship with Kaede was Like That.

Was it?

Even if Yurio still occasionally showed up in Saburou’s bedroom with a knife asking him to stab her and he had to fling the knife out the window and chant “It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright”, these outbursts became much rarer. Things were going good.

Then Saburou got a call from Atena, who told him in tears that Shirou was currently fighting for his life after he’d been hit by a runaway driver in the hospital’s parking lot.

Saburou made sure that Yurio would be fine staying alone in the house and that she had her phone nearby (pink with a sticker saying ‘love’ and their tiny photo), and left to drive to the hospital. It seemed Shirou had borrowed his BMW in the morning, so Saburou had to use Ichirou’s Bentz instead.

A traffic officer called Aoyama told him that right when Shirou had been leaving the building, he got hit by a car so hard he bounced a few times between the car’s roof and the porch ceiling. Hardly an ‘accident’. Fortunately Shirou could be taken to ER immediately afterwards, but the outcome of surgery was uncertain. It wasn’t the first time in the span of not even three months that Shirou had been seriously injured in a car accident.

Who would be trying to take Shirou out? Some sort of gang? Saburou called a yakuza member he'd met once when he’d been hanging out with Jirou, Tsuji Yutaka (first lieutenant of Furutaka-gumi related to Hoshino-kai). But before he could really ask about anything, Tsuji shot his own question at him:

“Is is true that Mr. Jirou returned? A whole lot of rumours is flying around claiming that he showed his face in Fukui lately.”

Apparently, somebody had seen Jirou in the Palace Hotel in Fukui, assisted by a woman, and now various group were trying to find him. Was that just innocent Kawaji Natsurou being mistaken for Jirou? Were the two men one? Was that someone else? And who was that woman? No, there’s no way that…

Could Jirou be trying to murder Shirou? He shouldn’t have any reasons to pick him as a victim over Maruo or Saburou, but maybe he changed his approach somehow. Saburou remembered a piece of dialogue from Thomas Harris once again.

“Do you spook easily, Starling?”

“Not yet.”

Jirou / Natsurou had showed up in his dreams as Hannibal Lecter. Would Clarice “Saburou” Starling be able to put him behind bars?

Saburou decided to check who that woman was first and thought about Jirou’s old followers he could ask about her. Maybe Kawai Kazuhiro? Saburou found his number in the phone book, but was told that Kazuhiro and his twin Youji had gone missing fourteen years earlier in December 1986.

Exactly when Jirou vanished. Did he take the twins with him for some reason? As a mystery writer Saburou instantly reacted to the twins being involved by thinking of some complicated body switch trick. That would be ridiculous. But Saburou couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of Jirou running away with someone and soon realized just why he felt so bitter about it.

Why hadn’t Jirou taken him along?

No, he had to resume thinking about the case at hand. He had to finally become useful. Or was he really that stupid and good for nothing?

Upon getting to the hospital, Saburou first went to visit Maruo in his room overcrowded with political partners (the news spread fast about his son possibly being targeted) and was startled to find Maruo crying. He took Ichirou’s secretary Hasegawa Katsuyuki aside.

“Hey, why is Maruo crying?” he asked.

“What do you mean ‘why’, Mr. Saburou? Mr. Shirou got hit by a car!”

But Shirou was still alive, and when Saburou had called Maruo earlier the man sounded unfazed.

“He wiped his tears and took a few deep breaths before getting the call,” Hasegawa said. “He didn’t want to show you his panic. That’s what parents do.” Hasegawa added that they had tried to contact Ichirou in vain. He must have still been searching for their mother.

Maruo thanked Saburou for coming, and Saburou knew that he meant “thank you for being here at this time”. Ever since Nozaki’s attack Maruo got a lot more timid. Shirou would claim that looking death in the eyes had changed him.

“What do you think, Saburou?” Maruo asked after a brief exchange about the accident / attempted murder. “Why did that happen?”

“I wonder if there’s someone who holds resentment towards him.”

“Do you think it’s my fault?” A wry smile. “You too think that all these things happening to my family is my fault?”

How could one respond to such a question? Deep inside, Saburou felt like Maruo really was the cause of all their problems, but of course a whole lot of other people were at fault. Maybe they -- the brothers as well as their mother -- could have done better instead of giving up on Jirou. Maybe Maruo and Jirou should have tried better for the sake of each other.

“Everyone’s gone already,” Maruo continued. “Everyone’s leaving the Natsukawa house.”

“Maybe it’s better if they did,” Saburou replied, “if they can do what they want. Even if split up, family is still family, right? Everyone would be able to finally solve the problems they couldn’t tackle while staying in that house.”

Maruo certainly feared losing the family he kept around him. When his wife had been attacked and fell into coma, he slept an entire day long as if trying to escape intense grief. He’d always been a weaker man than he looked.

“That’s not possible,” Maruo said after some thought. “The family must stay together until the end.”

Saburou didn’t plan on screaming, but he couldn’t help yelling through sudden tears about how Maruo is always saying things like that and making everyone miserable, that this fixation on keeping them together is ruining everything, that it’d be best to finally let everyone go and live separately!

Maruo looked shocked, but clearly not believing in anything he’d just heard. “You’re going to leave too, aren’t you? Then leave!”

Saburou hadn’t said that, but he was already sobbing like a little boy and couldn’t voice his arguments well. Surely Maruo just spoke brashly in an attempt to hide weakness, but Saburou still felt hurt. Leaving the room, Saburou heard one more thing behind his back.

“You’re not my child anymore!”

Saburou broke down crying in the hallway.

Natsukawa Saburou, abandoned by both his parents. No, that last name wasn’t even his anymore. His house wasn’t his house anymore.

Hasegawa walked out after him and told him not to run away, that Maruo surely understood what Saburou had meant, and that he needed just a little more patience and some more calm talking.

But it was always the same! They just always returned to the starting point, and no one ever seemed to grow the fuck up!

Hasegawa didn’t agree with that, and told him that Shirou had decided to become a candidate in the summer election to replace the still hospitalized Ichirou and Maruo. In fact he only showed up at the hospital that day because they were talking politics. Even despite his own job back in the USA, Shirou was more than ready to do something like this for the good of the family.

Saburou yelled at Hasegawa to shut up and ran away. Who he was running away from? Hasegawa, Maruo, Shirou? Himself? He hadn’t done anything useful like Shirou, and even if he intended to help Yurio, in the end it was Shirou who really took care of her and her mental health.

Waiting in front of the operating theater, Saburou talked with a man called Fukushima Manabu, who until pretty recently had owned a convenience store, but was now Shirou’s secretary. He also happened to be a son of one of Nozaki’s victims, who had died after a long coma. Fukushima wondered if it had been the right choice to try keeping her alive for that long.

“I don’t really understand it myself,” he said, “but I often saw my mother’s ghost when doing laundry. Or rather her soul, seeing as she hadn’t died yet at the time. Her face showed up in the water inside the washing machine, looking at me without a word, expression hard to read. But when I’d push the button to have the water drain out, she’d look at peace. I thought that maybe this was her way of asking me to finally let her go. But I was too afraid to do so, and I liked our little meetings. I couldn’t kill my mother. Eventually she died and never again showed up in the laundry water.”

Saburou didn’t know what his own reaction would be if the one in the coma was one of his brothers or father -- would he be able to cut off their life support, snip!, goodbye? -- but shuddered to even think about killing any of them. Besides, he wanted to show them that he’s worth something. No matter how horribly they’d suffer, he would stand his ground and refuse to kill them.

Just to what extent could egoism born from love be forgiven?

Saburou realized that not only had Shirou borrowed his car that day, he was also wearing his clothes, as he usually did because of how little baggage he had taken with him from the US. Whoever the runaway driver was, his intention wasn’t to kill Shirou, but Saburou.

Saburou thought that he really should have been the one to get hurt.

In the end, the doctors said that Shirou would survive. Around that time news surfaced about a car with a busted front window found near the hospital. The driver thought to be the one who had attacked Shirou was still sitting inside. The problem was, said driver was found with all the skin of his head and limbs peeled off, and all the teeth pulled out. Despite that he was still alive and said his name was Okamoto Yasuhiro. Okachi.

Saburou called Yurio and learned that Kaede had come by earlier asking to see him.

A little later Saburou arrived at the Mouryou Pond and found crying Kaede. He was afraid – because of Okachi’s attempt to kill him, because of Kaede waiting here for him with unknown intentions – but then again, the entire world held nothing but fear for him now. He’d been thrown out of the family, Shirou was injured, and his mother, Ichirou, Jirou were all far away.

But Yurio was still there. He had to put this mess in order and return to her.

Kaede said that she’d been in love with Saburou for a long time, and no matter how much she tried to date others, it just wouldn’t work. She had no idea that things would lead to this awful situation. She had thought that maybe getting together with Okachi would be fine, that he’d have no interest in her. But lately he had seemed to have grown more at ease with touching and kissing her. They had a lot of long conversations about it.

Saburou remembered the note that had been found by Okachi’s body.

Saburou, I’m glad you’re still alive. Even though a lot of time had passed, do you continue doing what’s right? Just by observing you a little I was able to make sure. You’re a honest and docile person. (...)

Do you still read mystery novels? Do you remember the title of the book that I, you and Shirou read together and liked a lot? ‘Red Dragon’ by Thomas Harris. Have you read its sequel, ‘The Silence of the Lambs’? I did. If you’ve read it, but can’t remember the details, you can check it for yourself later: the thing that Lecter tells Clarice about Buffalo Bill:

“Billy’s not a transsexual, Clarice, but he thinks he is, he tries to be.”

Saburou, this man just like Buffalo Bill is trying to deceive himself. This statement should be enough for you to understand the meaning of what I did. Observe the scene from all sides, try out all ideas. When constantly looked at by a new pair of eyes and in a different light, everything will certainly reveal itself.

This is a simple, maybe a little flashy work of art made to show you just that. I hesitated a little over whether or not to use novocain, but this indecision was swept away when I heard that Shirou had been saved. The point in the first place wasn’t to give this creation suffering. I chose the song “I will survive”, as this man’s self-deception was just that persistent.

You see, flaying alive is a popular execution method in the East and in the West both, but in the Sixteen Kingdoms period particularly, skinning the person’s face was followed by making them sing and dance for everyone’s amusement. I’m sure you would enjoy it too. His rendition of “I will survive”.

The above note had been put into Okachi’s mouth together with a giant pink dildo signed by “Death God Jawakutora”. The handwriting style of the note without a doubt belonged to Jirou. Saburou had no intention of ever showing that note to Kaede.

Okachi had felt jealous about Saburou and Kaede. Had he been just faking it like Jirou implied, or was he actually bisexual like Kaede thought? When he’d once said that Kaede had been the first woman he’d ever fell in love with, was it true? Maybe his talk about how the border between gay and straight is hard to see was born from his experience of not falling squarely on one of these sides. Was his murderous intent towards Saburou true jealousy or somehow born from false emotions?

Saburou’s thoughts were interrupted by a phone call from Yurio, who gasped and hanged up as soon as he mentioned he and Kaede were at the Mouryou Pond. Since he and Yurio had first met here, she probably considered it a special place.

When he turned to face Kaede again, she was holding a knife, but didn’t make a move, crying that she didn’t understand anything anymore. Saburou had a feeling that the situation couldn’t be resolved other than by having someone be stabbed.

“Stab me, Kaede,” he said knowing well that she wouldn’t. She wasn’t Yurio. Her love was different. But maybe it’d be better if she did stab him. Everything was his fault, his and his love’s. “I have loved you all along, Kaede. That’s why it’s better if you stab me.” He both didn’t actually want to die and thought that it’d really be a better option.

All of this was the fault of the egoism of his love. He had known about Kaede’s suffering, but refused to disconnect her life support. Disconnect himself from her. He stubbornly stayed near her as she hovered at the faint line between life and death, not really falling on either side.

He kept telling her to stab him, she kept saying she can’t and at last dropped the knife, and he embraced her.

Maybe her inability to kill him was also the effect of egoism born from love.

In the end, Kaede said she’d go to the police and tell them about Okachi, but that she wanted to stay alone at the lake for a little while. Only when walking down the mountain did Saburou realize that she still had the knife, but highly doubted that Kaede would hurt herself. He considered turning around, but if he wanted to support her, the right choice was probably to just leave. To cut the line of the life support.

Goodbye, Kaede. Snip! Goodbye.

When Saburou returned home, he found a headless corpse in the garden, and the ID revealed the dead to be Yurio’s father. A knife – the same that Saburou had thrown out the window -- lied discarded to the side. Yurio must have used it.

But the one she should have killed wasn’t her father. After Yurio cut his father’s head off, she carved a (still bleeding) “LOVE ME TENDER” into his chest and put Saburou’s pants on him.

The one lying dead on the ground should be Saburou.

Without even trying to find Yurio or taking care of the corpse Saburou entered the underground storage and closed himself in the darkness, exhausted from everything that happened lately.

He heard footsteps again, heard them stop abruptly over his head again, but this time someone opened the trapdoor. It wasn’t the pale ghost of a little girl.

“Found you!” laughed Kawaji Natsurou.

He looked an awful lot like Jirou -- made himself look like Jirou -- but his hand bore several scars arranged in the shape of the Big Dipper. Kawai Youji.

“Long time no see,” Saburou answered. “You seem to have found a really good mask.” A spitting image of Jirou. Wait, if Jirou had peeled off the skin from Okachi’s face, did Youji do the same to Jirou and wore it like his own?

Saburou tried to fight, but Youji managed to inject him a knockout drug.

As if whatever god there was had finally gave up on him and decided to cut off his life support after seeing him return to that same small darkness under the floor over and over again.

Snip! Goodbye, Saburou.

[>>>NEXT>>>]

#sparkly reads tcd #maijo and jdc stuff

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l-l-kristofferson · 7 years ago

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My History Of Dating

Looking at all of my past relationships and love affairs, I realized one thing: most of them were digital. Out of the eight relationships and countless romances, about eighty five percent were over the phone and online. I physically only met four or five of these exes, meeting the rest through Skype. It isn't that I'm not up to meeting them, it just happened that either they were far away or they weren't out to their families. Before nineteen, I was in the closet as well. So I understood why I was a secret. Unfortunately, I also had to keep some of my relationships a secret. Because I'm surrounded by a highly religious family.

My first relationship was at thirteen with a girl named Crystal. I met her once and kissed her before she had to go home. It didn't last a month before she left me for another girl. Sometimes I wonder where she is or what she's doing. Then the other part of me doesn't care. I do remember being highly upset when she left me, considering I really liked her. But that was my first experience with an actual relationship.

My second and longest relationship ever was with a girl named Alicia. I met her in person at the dentist's office when I was fourteen. After a few months of texting, she said that she really liked me. I remember thinking Whoa, is this happening? She was a pretty girl but a real firecracker. She liked to stir up trouble or it followed her wherever she went. We rarely saw one another and I remember seeing her again for my sixteenth birthday. The other thing I remember about that night is that I kissed a friend that was with me and my buddy Odd when we went to meet her (Sorry Alicia). For three years, I dealt with a lot of lies and frustration with her. Despite everyone saying that she was no good, I wanted to marry her. I drew the line when she said she had been raped and was pregnant by her attacker, which she later said wasn't true. I ignored her for a while after that. When I did pick up her call, I snapped and cursed at her, telling her to keep the ring, not to call or text me, to not bother coming to see me, and to forget my number. Over the years, she has called me and tried to reach out to me. I think she's married with a daughter now.

I remember my third relationship being another girl I later proposed to, Jennifer. She was my Yumi and I was her Ulrich. This was an on and off relationship for two years. She would believe the rumors about me cheating when I had been faithful the entire time. She dumped me when she thought she was moving back to New York. When that didn't happen, she got back with me. For awhile, things were good. Then she left me again because I was apparently cheating with a girl I never met in person. In the end, we stood broken up. I try to reach out to her but she doesn't respond to me. Our last conversation involved her asking me to be the godfather to her kid. I remember wondering why she chose me. Since then, she hasn't made an effort to talk to me or even respond to when I say hello to her. The last contact I had with her was wishing her a happy birthday earlier this month. Happy belated birthday mija. Te amo mucho.

My fourth relationship was with a girl named Christa. It lasted nearly a year. But there was a problem... She wasn't out to her parents. Problem number two was that my name was Ramirez in her phone (before I went by Allister) and her family thought I was Mexican (I'm Puerto Rican). In the December I last saw her, she asked me if I loved her. I just walked away and didn't say a word. I couldn't stand to be a secret. To this day, she avoids me and hates my guts. Because of me, she's "messed up".

I will skip my fifth relationship and go straight to my sixth. This was an older woman (she is currently twenty nine) and her name was Derpie (not like My Little Pony). I met her on an app called Link (I have since deleted it). She showed a picture of a corset in a group chat and I said that it was awesome (I'm a big fan of steampunk). I took the chance and direct messaged her. She responded and we became fast friends. Three weeks later on May 21st, I asked her to go out with me. She said yes. It kind of scared me and intrigued me. I had always been interested in older men and older women. I was spoiled by their maturity and knowledge of the world. She was also the person who exposed me to transgender culture. After a lot of consideration and thinking, this was when I knew I was transgender. I proposed after eight months and she accepted. I even sent her a ring (through a letter. It reached her and she sent me a picture of her wearing it). After the year mark, things started to fall off. I took some time to myself to think about things. When I did ask her to continue the relationship, she was upset with me (she was dealing with a cancer diagnosis) and she called me selfish for only thinking of my own suffering instead of hers as well. In the end, she gave me an ultimatum: move with her to where she was or it was over. Long story short, I stood in Philadelphia to finish school and the relationship was over. Although things ended badly, she and I are still friends. We talk occasionally and talk about things. I'm grateful for her because I was able to discover a part of myself I didn't understand. Thank you Bella for helping me to grow as the person I knew I could be.

This was my most recent relationship. It lasted almost three months and it was with a guy named Sam. He was thirty at the time we met (his birthday was last month). The first day we talked, we immediately exchanged numbers. I tried to get into what he was into (which was bodybuilding). He would get mad at me a lot, especially when my family made it clear that they didn't like him. Despite this, I continued to see him. Although he treated me as a man, he was quick to immasculate me and call me a coward. One thing I remember when he was going off on me was "When are you going to capture my attention?". At that point, I was done. I left him be. He contacted me again last month, inviting me to his birthday party. I didn't go. In those short months, I realized that I gave a lot of chances to those who didn't deserve it. I'm guarded more than ever because of him. I was vulnerable with him physically (we didn't have sex. Just fooled around.) and I kind of regret it. Because now, I feel inadequate every time I look in the mirror. I hate what I see most of the time. Mom, you were right.

Through all of this, I can say that dating is hard, especially as a transgender man. When a lot of those people tended to notice what I didn't have, they ignored what I had to offer. Sometimes, even that wasn't enough. I'm still waiting for the right person to claim me as theirs. I have eyes for someone. I really love them, though they love someone else. But it doesn't stop me. I'm waiting for her. I hope she notices.

Thanks for listening. Write again soon.

#writer #writing #dating #transguystuff #transgender #myhistory #momwasright #crazy #ivedatedtherainbow #welcometomyworld

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burntstarliight-blog · 6 years ago

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( batch 1. )

Okay, I am separating my characters into batches as I post them so I don’t overwhelm you guys. Here are my first (4) idiots:

tws:. death

GEORGE WALLACE looks an awful lot like RICHARD ARMITAGE. HE is FORTY TWO and while they're COMPASSIONATE, they have a tendency to get pretty GRUMPY. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to SWEATER WEATHER by ALYSON STONER AND SAM TSUI.

Full Name: George Wallace

Pronouns: he/him

Age: 42

Job: Coffee Shop Owner/Author

Class: Upper Middle Class

Sexuality: demisexual

Meet George, he is my son and he is perfect. He grew up obsessed with Agatha Christie detective novels and started writing his own when he was fourteen. He was published for the first time at 22 and during the last twenty years he has been enjoying fame and money. What has he done with this money? Not a lot. He bought a coffee shop that he loves and spends most of his time writing and moaning about defective coffee machines.

He doesn’t date a lot (apparently he keeps putting his characters before real people…) but he is fine with it as long as he has his friends and an unlimited supply of pastries.

Possible connections (i’ll send these later to the main)

GEORGE WALLACE ( RICHARD ARMITAGE ) is looking for their EMPLOYEES with ANY fc(s). George is stinking rich (an author of romantic crime novels your mom probably reads) and he hated all of the coffee stores around so he decided to construct his own, its a bookshop/bookstore that’s very chill and has nice pastries (george and one employee is in charge of them). I am thinking around 4 employees (baker, barista, bookstore person) but shifts are a thing so there can be more if anyone is interested.

AMANDA BUARQUE looks an awful lot like CAMILA MENDES. SHE is TWENTY and while they're QUICK WITTED, they have a tendency to get pretty VAIN. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to DANCING QUEEN by ABBA.

Full Name: Amanda Daniela Buarque

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 20

Job: student/charity worker

Class: Upper Class

Sexuality: bisexual

Her dad was 50 and her mom was 24, surprisingly, her mother was the one that got sick, leaving young Amanda to be raised by her father. Her dad???? He wouldn’t kill anyone to save her -- he would pay a lot of people to save her. He is overprotective but also a hypocondriac who doesn’t usually leave his house. He is very rich though and Amanda never lacked for anything. He loved her, pampered her and gave her the best of everything. Amanda, though not very dedicated to her studies, impressed several universities with her essays and she got some offers from prestigious universities at the east coast. Though she was tempted, leaving her father was never an option -- he would worry too much.

She is a journalism major in university and involved in a lot of local charities. The latter is good for her because not only does she want to help others, it also occupies her time and gives her a lot of opportunities to ‘guide’ people. She believes she knows best (always) and plans on becoming becoming a lifestyle writer for magazines and newspaper and run an advice column.

Possible connections (i’ll send these later to the main)

AMANDA BUARQUE ( camila mendes ) is looking for their BEST FRIEND with ANY FC OLDER THAN 30, NO PREFERRED GENDER. Amanda was the neighbor kid that used to annoy your character but they are both adults now and they are best friends. This character needs to be responsible (™) because even tho Amanda is very mature in some aspects, she is an idiot and needs to be lectured from time to time (pls) You DO NOT need to contact @ TUMBLR HANDLE before applying.

GABRIELLA SMITH looks an awful lot like DAISY RIDLEY. SHE is TWENTY-ONE and while they're STEADFAST, they have a tendency to get pretty JEALOUS. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to ANDANTE ANDANTE by ABBA.

Full Name: Gabriella Smith

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 23

Job: waitress

Class: --

Sexuality: straight

Gabriella grew up very poor and her family was quite large. The situation was only worsened by her mother’s death, suddenly, she was supposed to help her father to take care of all of her other siblings (seeing as the was the eldest girl). Gabriella, a hard worker since she was young, dedicated all of her time to them and soon she was no longer going to school and ended up flunking out while making sure that all of her siblings were attending all of their classes and extracurricular activities.

When she was nineteen she ran away from her house. Her siblings she still loved and would do anything to help them, but her father was trying to marry her to their neighbor, a man in his fifties who owned a small grocery store. She got a job at an waitress at a diner, working days and nights só she could pay the rent of the tiny and dirty place (and most months she couldn’t even pay the rent).

Her luck changed when she started casually dating a rich man who was looking for a distraction after a disastrous breakup. Sadly, she fell in love with him. He didn’t fall for her, but he deeply enjoyed her company and on a whim they ended up having a shotgun wedding.

Possible connections (i’ll send these later to the main)

GABRIELLA SMITH (daisy ridley) is looking for their HUSBAND with ANY FC (a little older than daisy) Gabriella and your character had this ill advised whirlwind romance as your character was getting over a very bad heartbreak. He proposed on a whim and Gabriella (who was very in love with him) accepted. They are now married and a bit lost because there are feelings there, but its complicated and not exactly the best foundation to build a marriage. They have fun tho.

LUCY KIM looks an awful lot like PARK BO-YOUNG. SHE is TWENTY-FOUR and while they're WITTY, they have a tendency to get pretty COMBATIVE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to GOOD TIMES by ALL TIME LOW

Full Name: Lucy Kim

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 24

Job: english teacher

Class: Middle class

Sexuality: bisexual

LUCY! Ugh, I adore this child okay?? Lucy is filled with energy and has absolutely no idea what to do with it most of the time (except fight, she is tiny and she gets into way too many fights, someone pls protect her). She has a younger sister she loves more than life, is super close to her parents and hasn’t moved out yet. Technically, she has the money to rent a nice apartment, but she enjoys living with her parents (dork).

She runs a semi popular youtube account where she talks about the books she is reading and her experience as a korean-american woman. She really enjoys doing it (even tho it stresses her out a lot because OH MY GOD WHAT I’M GOING TO TALK ABOUT) and will literally talk about books all day long if you let her.

She teaches eighth graders and hates all of her students except the three who actually look up when she enters the room.

Possible connections (i’ll send these later to the main)

LUCY KIM (park bo young ) is looking for their YOUNGER SISTER with ANY FC (ethnically appropriate ofc -- KOREAN). Lucy and her younger sister are quite close, but the younger sister is a bit more rebellious and inconsequential. Lucy knows have to have fun and enjoys it a lot, but she ends up being the bad guy a lot.

#fckit:intro

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