#this message brought to you by: attempting to look up blood emojis and finding little red blocks that said A B O
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halfdeadfriedrice · 4 years ago
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non-serious non-question
are fic writers doing a/b/o worldbuilding by blood typing because if not why not
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miyaniacs · 4 years ago
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collaboration between @shhhlikeme and @thosenerdy3amthings​
about: Casually scrolling though YouTube Hanamaki suddenly stops. His eyes scan over the title again and again “Most Handsome & Beautiful Haikyu!! Faces”.  As soon as his brain comprehended what he just read, he clicked on it. There was someone out there, ranking him, his friends and the people around them? He HAS to tell Matsukawa. There is no way he can not. Not after what he just saw. Let the vicious cycle begin 
 
Link to the video and credits are in the masterlist
Introduction /Oikawa and Iwaizumi
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Kageyama and Hinata
written by @shhhlikeme​​
“Hey Kageyama!” Hinata greeted the man standing on his lawn, hopping out of his house like an orange bunny. 
“Why were you calling me when I told you I’d be here in 2 minutes, boke.” Answered the setter, skipping hellos and turning his back to walk to the library. Hinata caught up with him. 
This afternoon, the two college boys / ex teammates planned on heading the local library. Even though they attend different post-secondary schools, they had gotten so used to cramming together everyday in high school for three years that they find comfort in working alongside eachother to pull out the grades they need, even though neither of them were willing to admit it. 
“Oh! Because I thought of something I had to tell you and I didn’t want to forget it when I got out here!” 
Kags was annoyed, as per usual. “Alright.... So are you gonna tell me what it is..........?” 
Hinata‘s mouth formed an “O” as he lifted up his index finger excitedly to say what he’s been itching to tell his friend for weeks......only to not have any sound come out: because he forgot. 
Kageyama glared at him. “You forgot.” 
Shƍyo waved his arms around maniacally as they walked. 
“Well crap! Maybe if you got here on time I would have remembered!” 
“Boke. Think. What was it about?” 
Hinata raked his memory with all his might. “Uhhhh......Twitter. Something about Twitter. Oh, right!!! I sent you something funny of Twitter!”
“I’m never on Twitter. And I won’t find it funny.” Tobio mumbled, sliding his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it with his thumb, he pressed the Twitter app that might as well have cobwebs on it. Tobio had like 50+ mentions and 20+ direct messages. 
Looking around his arm to see, Hinata pointed to the screen. “Hey.... why is The Great King messaging you??” 
Tobio was suddenly very interested. “What? He did? What did he say?!”
Retrieving the iphone, Hinata opened the direct message, taking the liberty of shoving his face closer to the screen and reading the message out loud: 
“Oikawa said..... ‘ha guess who’s better again’ ...............then he said..........’once second best, always second best ..... nail polish emoji.....middle finger emoji..............sticking tongue out emoji’............and then there’s a video link. A rank.”
“A rank!?” His blood boiling because his ex-mentor could easily get under his skin, Kageyama ripped his phone out of Shƍyo’s hand and brought it close to his face for analysis. 
“Someone put out a ranking?” He inquired. 
“Ouuu lemme see! I think that’s our old coach Takeda on the thumbnail!” Hinata grabbed the phone back, getting excited. 
“No, Boke! Let me hold MY PHONE!” 
The two began a scrappy cell phone tug of war, resulting in a toss of the phone several feet in the air into the neighbours yard. The video had begun playing as they threw it.
The two competitors paused - looked at eachother, then hurdled over the fence, jumping over the lawn gnomes and raced over to the phone that was playing the Rank video. During the race, they slid onto their stomachs on the grass, immediately trying to pry it out of the other’s hands before settling on placing it in the middle as they both held the device.
“Whoaaaaaaaa.” Hinata widened his eyes as he saw the pictures roll to left. “How did they get all these pictures of everyone?!” 
Taking the phone completely and pausing the video, Shƍyo rapidly scanned his surroundings as if he’d just seen a red target on Kageyama’s forehead from a distant shooter. 
When he figured the coast was clear, he brought his attention back to the video. 
“WHOA OVER 400,000 VIEWS?!” 
Annoyed, Kags pressed play again. 
“I mean maybe there’s no spies around but it is kind of scary. Where did they get these pictures!?” 
Lying on the grass, Kags bumped Hinata’s shoulder with his own in an attempt to get him to shut up about random shit. “What’s my rank.” He inquired. 
“Hey they put Aone-san at the end all the way at #166!? Well, that’s mean.” 
Kags nudged Hinata again with his shoulder. “What’s my rank, Boke.?”
“And hey that short Ace that you said I fly higher than back in 1st year is at #115! I think he’d be really angry to see that.” 
I don’t care: Kags thought. 
Nudge. “What’s my rank, Boke?” 
“HAHA! ONION HEAD IS AT #77! .......But how did he beat out Lev, looking like a human onion?” Hinata scratched his head. 
Shut up: Kags thought. 
Nudge again. “What’s my rank, Boke.?” 
“Hmmm.... I see a lot of old heads on this list! I guess the person who made this list likes grandpas!.” 
Harder nudge. “What is—“ 
“Awesome! Inuoka is in the Top 50?! Way to—“
Never the patient sort, Tobio Karate-chopped Hinata on the head. 
“WHAT IS MY RANK, YOU IDIOT—!” 
Hinata yelped in pain, turning to scream back in his ear. “—I DON’T KNOW KAGEYAMA, OBVIOUSLY WE HAVEN’T SEEN YOU OR ME IN THE VIDEO YET SO—“
“—WELL SKIP TO AT THE END, THEN! YOU THINK I WOULD BE RANKED ANYWHERE NEAR THE PLAYERS YOU JUST MENTIONED—“
“FINE! I’LL FAST FORWARD IT BUT ONLY IF YOU STOP YELLING IN MY EAR! I NEED TO USE THEM TO PLAY IN MY GAME TOMORROW—“ 
“HEY YOU KIDS WHEREVER YOU ARE GET THE FUCK OFF MY LAWN WITH ALL THAT YELLING BEFORE I CALL THE COPS—“ Yelled a shaky elderly voice from the grumpy old bat that lived on Hinata’s street. 
The boys froze as if that would render them invisible. Kageyama quieted down so that his idiot friend could just fast forward quickly. Given the circumstances, Hinata did, to top 15. 
“Oh, hey! There’s Asahi!” 
The two boys whisper-exclaimed in unison. 
 ïżœïżœTsukishima should not be in the Top 15.” 
They also said in unison, deadpanning.
“Hey look! It’s me!” 
Both boys exclaimed, seeing rank #13 and #12 roll across the screen.
“At least whoever did this knows I’m better than you, Boke.” Kags muttered.
“Why should you be higher than me?!” Hinata yelled. “You look like the monster Natsu thinks is hiding under her bed!” 
“Oh shut up....” 
Glancing back to the screen, Hinata gasped. “AND THERE IS THE GREAT KING! At Number 5, wow!” 
Kageyama was not happy.
“I mean, I guess I can see why they would mistake Oikawa because he is in all the magazines so they probably have seen him more so I’m only a little insulted about that. But the real question is... WHY would they think Coach Ukai—the guy who smokes a pack a day and can barely jog one lap around the gym—is a better player than ME?! I’m disgusted. And Kiyoko?! She only serves underhand! What kind of stupid video is!? Show me who made it I’m going to send them my highlight tape right now so that they can correct this shi—“ 
Hinata blinked, interrupting his frenemy. “Uh, Kageyama....?” 
Kags stopped his angry rant momentarily to glare at his old teammate. 
“What?!”
“...You do realize that this isn’t a rank for greatest volleyball skill, right? It’s uh..... for looks. How attractive we all are.” 
Upon hearing the new information, Kags’ infuriated face fell. 
“....Really?” 
Shƍyo nodded.
“Oh.” 
Kageyama’s entire demeanour changed, switching from shifty— to absolutely careless. He stood up calmly from the grass and dusted off his attire. 
“Then I don’t care.” 
He stated simply, turning to head in the direction of the library again, expecting Hinata to follow with his phone.
“Wait! What are you going to answer The Great King!?” 
Tobio shrugged as he walked away, so, naturally, Hinata took his response literally. Not wanting to be rude and still holding onto Kags’ phone, Hinata responded to Oikawa’s dm that had the viral ranking with a: 
đŸ€·đŸ»â€â™‚ïž 
Immediately, you could see “.....” on the screen because Oikawa was typing. 
Oikawa: WHY AREN’T YOU ANGRY đŸ˜ĄđŸ˜ĄđŸ˜ĄđŸ˜ĄđŸ˜ĄđŸ˜ĄđŸ˜ĄđŸ˜ĄđŸ–•đŸ»đŸ–•đŸ»đŸ–•đŸ»đŸ–•đŸ»đŸ–•đŸ»đŸ–•đŸ»đŸ–•đŸ»đŸ–•đŸ»
“Hm. I guess Oikawa-senpai was hoping for a better reaction out of Kageyama.....” 
In the distance, Kags yelled, 
“HINATA! We have to study. Let’s go!” 
“Coming!” 
Shƍyo called, quickly forwarding the video to his own Twitter so that he could send it to Kenma later. He does that with every interesting video he comes across, so maybe Kenma would get a kick out of it. 
Shƍyo did not remember seeing Kozume on the list because Kageyama had gone into his distracting rant about unfairness, but Shƍyo just figured he had skipped his anti-social friend’s rank when Kageyama made him fast forward to the Top 15. 
Little did he know.......... that the quiet cat boy’s ranking..........was even higher than Oikawa’s.
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 taglist ( open ) : @your-local-bnha-writer​​​ @chaichai-the-weeb​​​​ @kageyamasbraincell​​​​  @nekxrizawa​​​​  @ushiwakaflaka​​​ ​ @tendouthighs​​​​  @brokeyiam
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fullsundiaries · 4 years ago
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Coffee-nemie (Got7 Youngjae Imagine)
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It was evening when all of this started. The time was already 10 p.m. and everyone was getting ready to go home from the dreadful 9-hour continuous on and off filming. That was it. The last day of Youngjae's filming for his drama. For the past few months, he created friendships, saw potential acquaintances, and even encountered a close-contact enemy, you. It was rare for someone, especially with that bright and energetic personality like Youngjae, to even have an enemy on-set. Most likely, it was strange and sudden that you found yourself in this situation when you know to yourself that you don't have enemies. You barely even have friends within your colleagues.
But it all happened once when you fell and you stepped on Youngjae's foot, barely injuring him, and you guys both fell on the ground. It would've been the effect of no sleep, or because of being fatigued that you couldn't gather your thoughts and acts accordingly, logic and manner-wise, you suddenly stood up and started getting pissed off eventhough it was your fault. Youngjae felt incredibly bad, and you didn't know that he did. When you were thinking about it after a few days, you went to his changing room to talk. You coordinated with his manager to be able to talk to him, but you were absolutely denied the moment he heard your name. Infront, he looked nice as he was smiling and was acting like his usual self, however during breaks where you find time to speak to him, you were left out.
For the last remaining hope, you tried your best to take care of him quietly, feeling sorry for everything you did that led everything to the now that was happening. You hated it, and you hated ending your very first project with bad blood towards one of your co-workers. "Youngjae, can I talk to you?" you say. "No, I have to go—"
"Okay," you abruptly cut him off, sighing as you gather the courage to say what you want to him, "I was a jerk. I was stupid, I was dumb to even get pissed off on you when I almost injured you. I'm so sorry and I hope you consider this as my peace offering." You gave him a cup of coffee which you were holding, delicately, as if it was the most important thing in the world, together with the other cup of coffee you were drinking, causing you all sorts of emotions. Maybe it was even the reason you got the courage to talk to Youngjae, getting all courageous and shit, things that doesn't apply to the normal you. With a few looks up and down, from your face to the cup, Youngjae smiled. It was a warm one, the one you would normally see when he talks to the others. He grabbed the cup of coffee, lightly touching your hand and raising it like it was a trophy for good behavior, "I'll enjoy this. Thank you." He then walked to his van where his manager was waiting for him to arrive.
You were confused. You saw his warm smile, but then he didn't say if he forgave you or not. While sipping on your coffee that was soon emptying the cup, you thought about what all those meant. You were starting to experience having adrenaline, and you were slapping your chest like crazy which was covered in the thick layers of your shirt and sweater. "You're just overthinking! Stop. He probably forgave you already. But!" you sigh out, feeling like there's already no way out of this situation. You will be a mess. When Youngjae's fans would find out about it, your career as an actress will be done. You'll be cancelled and that would be one of the worst scenarios that can happen.
While walking with a troubled mind, you suddenly feel your phone vibrate briefly. You were just a meter away from your company's van when you grabbed your phone to see what it was from the notification tab.
[I] Youngjae: I'll be willing to skip out my teammates' plans to hang out tomorrow if you buy me a meal so that we can call this a truce.
Finally!
[I] Youngjae: And I'm thankful you went to me to apologize personally. I appreciate it. I forgive you as well. You don't have to think about it now. Good night♡
'But what's with the heart?' your eyes suddenly went big. Good thing you're already inside your van when you saw the message and it was on the notification tab, meant that you still haven't "seen" his message. You felt your heartbeat raising once again, finishing the coffee in one go, not realizing that everything you are feeling would be made worse by coffee.
"No no no. Let's calm down. This is just the coffee causing me adrenaline. This is nothing," you talk to yourself, feeling your face warming up all of a sudden. Your phone vibrated once again.
[I] Youngjae: *^^
Damn it, you little prick.
When you saw it, everything immediately went sour. But most importantly, your adrenaline won't stop and now you're feeling hot all over, embarrassed by how you suddenly reacted when you saw the problematic emoji on Youngjae's text. And, just like that, after a minute, you felt your adrenaline declining and your headache kicking in. It was halfway the drive when you felt the need to close your eyes because the headache was getting worse.
The next day, your phone vibrated while you were on bed. Actually, it was the 25th ring. You grabbed your phone, having difficulty trying to open your eyes from the harsh sunlight coming from the huge window of your room. "Aish," you cursed under your breath when you finally got a hold of your phone. You saw the time. It was already 11 in the morning. You also saw your manager's 25th missed call. You suddenly sprung out from your bed, immediately regretting the decision when your view suddenly went out of focus. With much difficulty, you called back to your manager, trying your best to sound okay, feeling your voice slowly becoming congested. Thankfully, it was just a short talk about the upcoming schedules you will be having, ones where you'll be talking about the week after. The manager was impatient after you weren't able to pick up quickly, but you didn't care.
When that ended, you laid down back to your bed, not feeling so good compared to last time, last night. Well, even last night, you weren't in your best when you suddenly drank your coffee like water. Your phone rang once again. You didn't check the caller ID so you thought it was your manager. You sounding okay suddenly backfired the moment your congested voice obviously presented itself to the other line. "Hey, you okay? This is Youngjae," you heard the voice and you finally came to your senses. "I was just calling to—" you were gonna cut him off but instead of your words, it was because of your sudden coughing fit. "Hey, are you really okay, ____?" Now the worry was evident in Youngjae's voice.
"I'm okay," you barely recover from your coughing fit and you try to intervene to the potential stuff he might do (not like he'll even go to your apartment building to visit you and all that), "don't worry," but it was the absolute opposite when you suddenly started having the urge to cough once again. "Maybe we'll do it next time. Are you alone? Do you need someone right now?" Youngjae asked consecutively. "I'm fine," you insisted, your voice attempting to sound firm, with it showing a hint of despair and in need of care, and you stopping your coughs. You quickly hang up to let it out. 'I just met him and then became my enemy, and I was supposed to treat him to a meal today', you sighed at the thought while looking right towatds the ceiling.
Well, looks like the treat for a meal with Youngjae was gonna wait and you bundled yourself up with your blanket, trying to fight off the cold you were feeling, and you closed your eyes to sleep. You were feeling worse compared to the first time you woke up. Slightly after an hour of sleeping, you were hearing your front door ring. Seems like the ringing won't stop so you took the last bit of your strength to walk to the front door to see who it was that was disturbing you from your sleep. Feeling like everything was heavy, you tried your best to walk to the front door. You opened it and you almost passed out when you saw who it was.
It was someone with a black mask on, form of a disguise. When he opened his mask, you almost lost consciousness to see him underneath all that. It was Youngjae. Youngjae helped you up and walked you to your room. He also put down a bunch of stuff he brought. When you laid back down, he quickly put his palm on your forehead to feel your temperature, comparing it to his while covering his forehead with the other hand. "W-Why are you here?" you said, stuttering at the sudden appearance as well as the sore throat creeping up badly. "Is no one here with you?" Youngjae asked after checking your temperature and going through the stuff he brought. "W-What?" you asked again. He sighed, "Were you alone? You hung up after I asked you that question during the call." He looked down at the thermometer thing he brought with him. You briefly closed your eyes and gulped, trying to absorb what the hell is happening. "Yeah," you slightly coughed. "Here, open your mouth," Youngjae lend you the thermometer and you open your mouth, closing it.
"37.8°C. Have you eaten?"
"No."
"When's the last time you've eaten?"
"Last night."
He looked at you with a peculiar expression that you can't understand.
"What? It was just a small amount and then I had coffee 'cause I was too tired. I also gave you one because I was feeling bad," You closed your eyes because you can feel your headache intensifying. You turned sideways to the side where Youngjae is and tucked your feet towards you, hugging your spare pillow. "I'm so sorry for what I did and for not treating you to a meal," you mumbled, not noticing yourself getting drowsy and then now, asleep.
Youngjae didn't want to wake you up so he carefully fixed the blanket and covered you. Up that point, he was feeling bad 'cause this was partly his fault, seeing you bundled up and feeling unwell.
A few hours have passed and you woke up, feeling a bit better but way less okay than earlier. The time was already 4 p.m. That's when you suddenly felt the need to drink water. You stood up, went to the kitchen to grab it, but was surprised when you saw Youngjae still in your apartment, playing with your dog, Joker. "Oh, you're awake? I made food and also preheated the one I brought. I'll help you with it," he went to the kitchen and to the stove to light the fire on the stovetop with the pot.
You sat down on the table, moving your eyes up and down, pinching your nose bridge. Youngjae probably saw you doing it when he suddenly asked, "Still not well?" You answered, "Yeah. The headache isn't helping."
"Here, drink water," He gave you a glass. You drank it, gratefully, and you put it on the table. Youngjae was across you, sitting down as well and it was awkward. The air was silent, and it was uncomfortable, enough for you to feel much worse than before. But you were curious, so you asked him. "What's the real reason why you are here?" You asked. Youngjae looked at his hands underneath the table and recollected his thoughts, sighing as he gets ready to talk.
"Just because."
"No. Really. What's the reason?" You seriously asked.
"Wait, the soup is boiling. I'll get it ready," He stood up, to which remains a very uncomfortable atmosphere, that continued till the moment you ate your food, until you finished, and until he walked you back to your room. He fixed your blanket and was about to leave when you stopped him, holding his wrist. He looks at you. "Youngjae, you didn't have any reason to go here and take care of me. Why?"
Youngjae let go of your grasp and went to grab the chair that was near him. He sat down and with that, he started. "You gave me coffee, and you were going to treat me to a meal. It's partly my fault why you're sick."
"How so?" You asked, intrigued. "Well, I noticed last night and realized you were stressing yourself so much with the fact that you hurt my feelings during that time. And I also noticed you last night, fidgeting everytime you see me. I didn't notice it at first but you were also the first one to lend a hand warmer to me. And you were obviously tired, but you tried to look alive whenever you see me. And basically, you were powering through with coffee, which is the biggest factor of why you're sick," He was smirking and was slightly laughing. You narrowed your eyebrows, trying to decipher what he wanted to tell you. "I'm basically telling you that I appreciated the effort and I want you to stop drinking coffee when you're tired," He continued, smiling.
Like that, you retreated your hand back inside the blankets. With a sigh of relief, you can now finally smile. "Thank you, for being not an asshole like me. I appreciate your help today."
Youngjae laughed. It was a genuine one. "Take your medicine before you sleep. I'll be finishing outside and will be leaving immediately," he left and you drank your medicine which was on the bedside table, drinking the glass of water left there with it. You looked at the time. 5 p.m. And it dawned on you. He stayed in your apartment just so he can help you. And not because of something serious, it's because he "appreciated" your efforts, those which were obviously pointless by now. Or not. "I'll be leaving. And don't forget my treat," Youngjae said by the door. "Yep," you airily said, still in a trance. "Take a rest. Don't see me outside," and he left.
You felt your heart pounding, and this time, it was not because of the caffeine kicking in. Right there, you lay on your bed with that feeling still lingering. It was either gonna cause you bad or good, but it was, byfar, the best feeling you've ever had. You just fell in love with Youngjae.
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mytrashs-blog · 5 years ago
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Movie Star
Pairing: BFF! Tom Holland x Reader
Warnings: Angst, SO MUCH ANGST, swearing, Tom being an asshole, there’s a mention of an injury...
Summary: Tom is your best friend, but fame can change a lot of things.
Word Count: 2,609 (Probably the longest one piece I’ve done)
A/N: So! This is an entry for @unholyhaz and @spidey-waffles11 #marvellouswafflescelebration writing challenge. I am actually quite proud of this baby and how freaking painful it is. I was having a hard time with the prompt because I kept wanting to write it the same way it happened in the movie, so yeah, I’m very happy with this. Enjoy! (Please if you do like it, reblog it so it can be read by more and more people).
Part two
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(This pic doesn’t belong to me, I took it off google, but I did edit it a little)
You never thought your friendship with Tom would end up like this. Ruined. Potentially forever, and the worst part is that you can’t even be mad about it. He’s been dreaming about becoming big in the movie industry since you were like 7 and dancing ballet at the studio everyday, so him getting big should be something to be happy about, right?
Only it isn’t. And not because he’s always busy and barely even texts back, not even because he never has time to hang out anymore, nor is it because he seems to always be in the other side of the world either filming another damn Marvel movie or any other movie, or promoting his work. No, all of those reasons were not enough to wreck your friendship. What finally did it was the fact that he became so full of himself that you couldn’t stand hearing him talking when you did get to see him. He’s kind of an asshole now.
So you snapped. You were out in a pub with him, Harrison, the twins and a couple of your friends, Tom was telling you about how unacceptable it was that his manager tried to get him, to spend a night in LA in a 4 star hotel instead of a 5 star or a damn Airbnb apartment, how he was tired of this neglecting behaviour from a person that eats from the 5% of his paycheck, and you lost it.
You may be bestfriends with this guy, but you definetely didn’t have the same economical status, and you have to work a normal job like everybody else, you don’t get 5 star hotels ever, for gods sake you don’t even get to travel that often, the only time you’ve been out of the country was when Tom took you to Atlanta to do some reshoots back when the first Spider-Man happened, so you made well sure to tell him he was behaving like a brat, posh and whiny rich kid. And he didn’t like it, so he called you a jealous uptight bitch that’s bitter because an ankle injury killed off her career, which was a low blow. So you stormed out of the place.
It was a pretty public scene and there were a few videos from different angles of nearby tables at the pub and a few pictures of both of you screaming at each other, and of you getting out of the place while fuming, and of Tom getting his car a driving off while visibly pissed. It’s been the story of the moment (at least in your life). All your social media was full of Tom’s fans calling you a fake friend, a bitch, a brat, whore, slut
 some even sent death threats, which was a bit disturbing, but not surprising.
Of course Tom wasn’t helping at all either, he stopped following you, but didn’t block you so you could see him liking all the rude messages directed to you, and he was being very very vocal about the importance of having real friends and how loyalty is a very important thing and how he had to learn that the hard way very recently. So yeah, like a whiny rich boy.
You were scrolling down instagram, trying to focus on something else, but the notifications were still blowing with comments and tags on rude posts, so decided enough was enough and you started an Instagram Live, not even 1 minute in and you already had a handful of people watching and commenting snake emojis and very strong language words, but you ignored it as you started talking.
“Hello everyone, thanks for all the lovely wishes, I apreciate them a lot, you don’t wanna know. So, I’m here because, since I don’t go around doing interviews for a job, I have to find an outlet to let out my side of the story, because all stories have more than one side and one shouldn’t decide on a side unless you’ve heard all sides of it- the story, I mean.
Tom and I became best friends since day one of us meeting, that was 16 years ago, we were always inseparable and I always knew I had someone to rely on and he had someone to rely on in me. Pretty strong bond. I always knew he wanted to be an actor, the best actor he could be, and I always knew he would make it, because he’s always been so incredibly talented and dedicated and he was very determined, so when he finally got his big chance being casted as Spider-Man I was the first one to celebrate him. As his fame and recognition started growing, he started hanging out with a lot more celebrities and he started picking up on personality traits that aren’t that cool, but at the beggining it was so minimal that I’d just ignore it.
By the time he was filming Far from Home, I think, he was a full on movie star. Every place we’d go, a few cameras would follow and fans would show up, and he loved putting on a show for everyone, to the point where he’d ignore anyone that’s with him. But that’s no the worst part. I can forgive him for having an ego, we all have one, some are bigger than others and that’s cool, but what’s not cool is being condescending to the people who work with or for you. I dont’t believe in people from first or second class, for me everyone is equal and everyone’s work is just as dignified and worthy as anyone else’s, that’s why I finally lost my respect for Tom, because he started treating people that don’t have the same level of privilege as him like they’re less than him. That’s not the way we were raised, those are not the values that my best friend has and I know it’s all because of all the media attention he has.
You all give everything to him in a silver platter, so he now became a bratty movie star, another self centered celebrity that feels entitled. So congratulations. You have created a celebrity, but you have wrecked a human being inside. And I don’t feel like I deserved to be attacked this way for not wanting to put up with being belittled and treated like a peasant. Thanks.”
You finished the live and you broke crying, of course. It hurts to know that your best friend is no longer, that you’re never gonna have all those amazing midnight adventures. Like when you escaped from your houses at 15 to go to that crazy party all the school was attending but your mothers wouldn’t let you go. You remember how you got drunk after just one or two beers and ended up walking and giggling back home at 3am. You were in so much trouble the next day.
Or when he got casted as Peter Parker and you were so happy that you spent the whole night laying in his bed talking about all the hard work you both had done to make your dreams come true. That night he told you how he was proud of you for working so hard on your dancing career and how you were his favourite dancer ever. And you told him that you always knew he’d make it. You promised each other to always be there for the other.
He was the first to arrive to the hospital when you had the accident onstage that ended your career, he held you on those long nights when you’d cry and cry, he was there when you were angry at the world for not letting you have your dream. He helped through everything and never left your side until you were back on your feet and you had a new plan for your life.
He’s not here now though. He’s the one holding the gun on your back and you were the one that threw the first punch. You feel guilty. You ruined everything. You should’ve told him that he shouldn’t behave that way. Of all people, it should’ve been you holding his feet on the ground, and now it all went to shit because of you. It’s all your fault and maybe you do deserve the furious fans and the creepy reporters jumping on you every now and then, and maybe you deserve all those messages because maybe you were a fake friend.
You really don’t have the evergy to get out of bed for the days that followed. It could’ve been just two days, or a week, maybe even months for all you knew; but you stayed in bed, you would cry, eat and sleep and nothing more. Your phone was in some unknown place of your house, you hadn’t even attempted to find it and maybe it ran out of battery long ago, but who cares? definetely not you. You were walking around in your pajamas, looking for ice cream in your freezer or maybe some chocolate bars, or chips
 or whatever came to view first, but you were interrupted by the ring of your doorbell and then a knock on your door, you thought about ignoring it, but then they knocked again so you brought yourself to the door and opened it.
You froze when you saw Tom on the other side of your door, looking probably just as destroyed as you do, red puffy eyes, messy hair, he was wearing sweatpants and an old shirt, an unusual look since now he’s always trying to look his absolute best. This guy in front of you resembled your best friend since childhood more than any of the high fashion versions of Tom, but it still ached in your heart that he was in this state in your front door unannounced.
“Tom
 w-what are you doing h-here?”
“I uh
 read a rumor and I needed to see it wasn’t true.”
“What?” You suddenly feel your blood boiling. The only reason he came was because of some rumor he read, he doesn’t regret anything, he doesn’t miss you, he just wants to see if some stupid rumor is true. You go to close the door in his face but he pushes the door.
“You wanna know what it was? Y/N listen to me, please!” You try to push harder, but he’s way stronger than you are so you give in and let him in, but the frown never leaves your face and you cross your arms over your chest.
“I’m listening.” You really don’t want to get your guard down, but the way Tom is looking at you right now makes it really hard. He looks at you the way one looks at a youth treasure you found after years of longing. The way you look at a flower that grows against all odds in the middle of a desserted field. And it’s making you feel very aware of him. You notice how the bags under his eyes are deeper than ever, his skin doesn’t look as flawless and polished as it did the last time you saw him, you can even see some spots around his forehead, you notice how he’s still unable to tame that eyebrow and how they also look a little unplucked, you can also see the tarce of a beard, the kind that tells you that maybe he didn’t shave this morning and even the day before that, and his hair is not only messier but it’s also longer. And it’s grounding to see him look so human, vulnerable and real right in front of you.
“There were some rumors going around that you might’ve
 that you maybe
 y-you had..”  For some reason he was unable to look you in the eye, and every time he tried to speak he’d take a small step closer to you. “That you maybe had
 comitted
 suicide
”
You froze where you stood, and maybe your jaw fell slack, and maybe you even stopped breathing, where the fuck did he read that? What the actual fuck are people saying? your blood started boiling with rage, not even at Tom anymore, but at the world, why does everyone suddenly feel entitled to say those terrible things and why? Because you haven’t been on social media in a long time? People seriously need to understand that other people exist outside the internet and the have lives outside social media.
“I seriously hate people. Well
 here I am, alive and well, is that everything?” you ask as you raise a brow, expecting him to say something else, but he looks at you taken a back, he’s at a loss of words because he was expecting this to fix things.
“Umh
 yeah?”
“Okay then, I’ll walk you to the door.” You say flatly and start making your way back to your front door.
“Y/N wait
 I do need to say something else” He grabs you by the wrist and turns you around, you end up mere inches away from him, his hand still holding you. His gaze roams all over your face, he looks down at your lips while licking his, but then he looks up to your eyes. “I’m sorry. About everything. I was a dick, and maybe I am an idiot for realizing I don’t want to lose you until I read those terrible things and it hurt as hell to even imagine a world without you in it. I don’t want to live the rest of my life without your surprise texts when I’m away filming, or your weird gif replies, or our film nights and crazy getaways. You’re the best friend that I have. And I love you, Y/N. I really, really do, and I’m sorry it took me so long to admit that to you.” If this had happened a few months ago, you would have kissed him already. You loved him for such a long time, it almost hurt you, you had all those feelings for him stored inside you and at times it felt like they couldn’t fit anymore and you’d just explode, but that changed. You changed. And so did he.
“I accept your apology, Tom.” you took a long pause before speaking again, and you could see in Tom’s eyes that it was killing him to wait, every second feeling longer than the previous, until you spoke again. “But it’s gonna take a lot more than that to fix our friendship. I’m sorry I don’t share your feelings, but I received death threats over twitter, so many hate comments coming to me everyday
 and you were liking them, encouraging people to keep attacking me! You expect me to just forget about that and act like it never happened? And you expect me to just throw myself at your arms and live happily ever after? It really doesn’t work like that, Tom. You have to go now.” He stayed looking at you for a moment, and you could see the heartbreak in his eyes, but your own heart was breaking aswell. Maybe you could fix this, but it would take more than this, and right now you could not see him in your apartment.
“Please leave Tom” Your voice was just a pleading whisper at this point, but Tom did let go of your wrist and you sighed when you felt the cold breeze hit the skin where his hand had been. He walked past you and opened the door, taking one last look at you as one single tear fell from your eyes. And the door closed.
---
Tagging a few people that might be interested so it doesn’t flop :)
@caeruleum-in-caritate-lupus, @softstarkk, @peterparkerbabyy, @dottirose, @legit-fandom-trash, @carostar2020, @appreciating-chase-brody, @mvmakki @madmadmilk @hollandrecs @starksparker @sunshinehollandd
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we-dont-have-a-side-anymore · 5 years ago
Text
Of Birthdays And Binders
Ship: Agender!Aziraphale x Genderfluid!Crowley x FtM!Reader
Content Warning: Gender dysphoria, mention of transphobia, reader had been disowned and kicked out prior to the story (brief mention, but might as well throw it out there.)
Summary: His birthday, and only two people cared. Not even people, two beings cared. No people. Don’t question why a legal adult with his own apartment can’t afford a new binder...? Convenient plot device. This can be read as FtM OR masc!nb. I use he/him the whole time.
—————
He woke up alone. Not only in the literal sense of being alone in bed, but no one had made any attempts to contact him. The street was unusually quiet too. It was like the one day where he wanted to be surrounded by people, he was

Alone.
His second alarm rang, and he rolled himself off of his bed and onto his pile of plush pillows. His phone buzzed. Twice. Reaching for his phone, he yawned, expecting it to be a notification from Twitter or Instagram. So naturally, it wasn’t.
It was two texts.
‘Hello, darling! Happy birthday! I have a surprise for you, so if you could pop on by the bookshop at noon, that would be lovely. I love you, (y/n)!’ Azi’s texts never failed to make him wiggle with joy. They were full of gentle, affectionate words, oh so different from what he was accustomed to.
‘Someone told me it was my favorite baby goat’s birthday today. <3 So I figured I’d stop by in 30. You don’t need to do anything, just be in your flat. Love you, handsome ;)’ If someone walked up to (y/n) and said that the demon Crowley invented emoticons, he would believe it. Nonetheless, his texts were always flattering and made him feel appreciated.
He sent them both a heart emoji, and went to get dressed. Dressing didn’t really require much effort. He slept in his clothes, with the noteable exception of his old, beat up binder.
He had bought it in secret when he was sixteen years old. Had it shipped to his friend’s house, and paid for it with his birthday money. He almost got away with it, too, until his parents walked in on him washing it.
They were quick to start yelling at him. Calling him a sinner, a disgrace. They told him that if he was going to be a tranny, that he would do it far, far away from them.
So he packed his duffel bag, bought the cheapest ticket to London that he could find, and he left Massachusetts for good. Cut all ties with his blood relatives, and texted his friends goodbye.
Now, four years later, he had two loving boyfriends, and his life was getting back on track. Every weekday he worked a nine to five job at a diner, which paid just enough to pay rent, buy food, and pay his cell phone bill. He had some money set away for education, and medical expenses. But he still only had his old, beat up binder. It didn’t bind very well anymore, it was so stretched out. He couldn’t really afford to spend so much on one thing, no matter how happy it would make him. Money was tight, but what did he expect, being a high school dropout? He would give anything to have completed high school back in his hometown, but life didn’t work in his favor.
He sighed and shrugged it on, then pulled his oversized T-shirt back on. Five minutes until Crowley said he would arrive. Then, three knocks. Quick, sharp raps on the thin plaster door. (Y/n) rushed to open the door, and his boyfriend blew the birthday song on a tacky kazoo.
He laughed and opened the door wider so that the redhead could step in, playfully slapping his ass as he sauntered towards the couch.
“Happy birthday, hot stuff!” Crowley smirked, the pointed tips of his tongue showing slightly. He pulled out a small box. There was wrapping paper on it, but he could hardly call it wrapped. An attempt at wrapping was most likely made, but that’s really the extent of it. “I think you’re gonna like this.”
(Y/n)’s eyes softened. “Oh, you really didn’t have to.”
The look on Crowley’s fact could only be described as offended. “Oh, baby goat, I know I didn’t have to. But I wanted to. It’s your twentieth birthday, and the first birthday since we started dating. This is special. Now, take the box and open it, hm?”
He laughs and grabs the box, pulling it sharply and sending the demon flying into (y/n)’s arms. “I love you, my love.”
The tape was slowly peeled off, and the box flaps popped open. Inside was a full-tank, nude binder. In his size.
He stared in silent shock, eyes wide and teary. “Oh my God.” He pinched himself twice, before tackling his boyfriend into the old couch. He tenderly kissed the tip of his nose, smiling widely. “You got me a new binder. You actually got me a new binder. Oh my goodness.”
Crowley ruffled his hair affectionately. “Well? Go try it on!” His smile only got wider as (y/n) sprinted into the bathroom to put it on. After a couple minutes of silence, (y/n) yelled from the bathroom.
“Erm...sweetheart, darling, sweetcheeks, pretty boy, love, sexy ass, hottie, aha, erm
” he trailed off, and Crowley knew immediately that he had done something stupid. “How would you respond if I said I was stuck?”
Biting back a laugh, Crowley started walking towards the bathroom. “I’ll come help, hot stuff.”
He was indeed stuck in the new binder. It had been quite a long time since he had put on something so tight, and while he was euphoric, he had forgotten how difficult it was. Most of the binder was on properly, except for his arms. Somehow, he managed to get his arms stuck along his torso, and it was too tight for him to wiggle them out. Crowley’s face scrunched in a snicker that was met with an indignant pout.
“Oh poo, love.” He sticks his tongue out, and attempts to cross his arms (this doesn’t go well).
Crowley mock gasps. “So you don’t want my help?” Immediately, (y/n)’s eyes switch into a very persuasive puppy dog impression.
“Please?” He wriggles pathetically, in an attempt to invoke sympathy. “Pretty please?”
Crowley deadpans. “The physical appearance of the please has no effect on me.” But with a snap of his fingers, (y/n)’s arms were through the proper place, and he wasn’t stuck anymore.
Immediately, he ran up to the demon and tackled him. The twenty year old peppered his face with gentle pecks until he was breathless, finally pulling away to bury his head in Crowley’s shoulder. “Thank you, Crowley. Thank you so much.”
They spent the next couple hours cuddling on the couch, spooning with Crowley whispering sweet nothings to his boyfriend. Before they knew it, it was a few minutes to noon. Crowley pulled him up, and snapped his fingers. Instead of being in a small, musty flat, they were standing in an alleyway next to an even mustier bookshop.
A. Z. Fell & Co. Antiquarian and Unusual Books. Where his other darling boyfriend lived. As the clock struck noon, Crowley burst into the bookshelf and held the door open for his more timid boyfriend.
His eyes lit up when he saw a cake, and three mugs of cocoa. By no means was it small, in fact, it was the size of a traditional wedding cake. Large and extravagant. Aziraphale burst out of the back room and jogged over to his boyfriends. “Oh, happy birthday my darling boy!” He reached over (y/n)’s shoulder and pulled him into a tender hug and kiss on the top of the head. “Now come, else the cocoa will get cold.”
The three of them sat at the table. The angel pulled out a daintily wrapped, but rather large package. It was covered in a creamy white paper, and tied with little blue bows. Crowley nudged (y/n), prompting the boy to blush and tug the box from his boyfriend’s hand. “Gosh, you guys, you really shouldn’t have done all of this stuff.” He carefully untied all of the bows, and peeled the tape away. Everything was perfectly intact, except Crowley’s patience. “Honest, I don’t deserve any o-” (Y/n)’s eyes widened as Crowley leaned over and kissed the human until he had to pull away for air.
Wordlessly, the redhead poked the brown box, and his boyfriend got the message. He opened the box eagerly, and his eyes widened once again. Tears welled in his eyes and an infectious smile spread across his face. The box fell to the floor as a trans flag emerged.
Aziraphale’s eyes closed in a giddy giggle. “Look in the box again!” His bright eyes opened, and it was clear that watching (y/n) open gifts brought him joy. He did what he was told, picking the box up, only to drop it again.
“Oh, wow!” He cooed, awestruck. A hand-knit throw blanket, that doubled as a rainbow pride flag. “Oh, I love it! Did you-?”
Aziraphale cut him off with an excited hug. “Oh, I did hope that you would like it! I learned how to knit right before we began courting, and the day we, er, performed coitus, I knew exactly what to do!”
Crowley’s mouth dropped. “You didn’t use miracles? When you said you were going to make a blanket for him, I didn’t think you would spend a year making it.” Aziraphale blushed, and twiddled his thumbs. (Y/n) kissed both their cheeks lightly.
“I love you two, so much. I don’t deserve you, honestly.” He tugged them over to the plush couch and threw the blanket over the trio. Safe, warm, and happy. Just how life should be.
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katedoesfics · 5 years ago
Text
Shadows of Hyrule | Chapter 56
It was nearing noon when Zelda's group text alerted Link, and it couldn't have come at a better time. He shook his head as he watched his father skate across the parking lot, standing on one end of the cart while his sister stood on the other, cheering loudly. He kept his distance from them just in case anyone should recognize him – and let's be honest, who didn't? - and squinted down at his phone, shifting it slightly to keep the glare of the sun away.
1:00. The guards will let you through the front gate. Don't consider this an open invitation.
He looked up from his phone to see his father and sister nearly collide with an oncoming vehicle. Aryll raised a fist in the air and shouted at the driver while her father spun the cart around and pushed them into the empty spot beside their own vehicle. He grabbed his daughter, spinning her around him before planting her firmly on the ground. The two of them laughed.
Link looked down when his phone alerted him of another text.
Sounds fancy, Revali's response said. What's the password?
Is there a dress code? Daruk's came in almost immediately after, and a second followed that. I've never had a secret meeting with a princess.
Revali followed that with a series of suggestive emoticons and finished it with a few winking faces.
I hate you all was Zelda's reply. Please be on your best behavior.
That's asking a lot of these guys came Urbosa's text. Are you sure you don't want to rethink this?
Zelda's response was to simply send an emoticon that looked exhausted with them all. After a moment, she followed that with a more cryptic response. I'll explain it all later.
Revali followed that with a gif of a saluting soldier.
Daruk's text came in just moments later. No one got back to me on that dress code thing...
WEAR WHATEVER YOU FUCKING WANT!
Link was sure Zelda would regret that text.
Orly? Came Revali's response. But to the group's surprise, he didn't follow that with anything further.
“Heads up!”
Link looked up from his phone as his father threw an armful of t-shirts at him. He lept forward to catch them and brought them to his chest in an attempt to keep them from falling out of his arms.
“Don't ruin those shirts, too, Link,” Aryll scolded him.
“Yeah,” his father said. “I'm not buying you anymore.”
“You didn't have to buy these,” Link reminded him.
“But I wanted to go shopping, too!”
“Me too!” His father grinned at him.
“You guys are so weird,” Link muttered. He slid into the front seat of the car and waited for his father and sister to follow suit. He turned back to his phone, a few more new messages waiting for him to view.
Wait, what's going on? Mipha asked.
Earth to Mipha was Urbosa's reply.
Leave it to Link and Mipha to not be paying attention, Daruk wrote.
Revali sent a few more winking faces.
I'm trying to study!!!
Link decided to finally chime in. He simply sent an emoji of a woman and a shopping bag.
The fuck is that supposed to mean? Daruk sent in response.
Link replied with an emoji of a hand with nail polish.
Nice came Urbosa's reply. Who do you go to? I need a new girl.
Revali's text came next. I'm out.
Mipha followed. Oh, wait, 1:00?
OMG was from Zelda. Never again.
“Is that all you kids do these days?” his father said as he started the car. “Fight monsters and text all day?”
“It's great to be a millennial,” Link said without looking up from his phone.
“I don't do that, Daddy!” Aryll chimed in from the back seat.
“That's because you're my perfect little angle,” his father said, looking at Aryll through the rear view mirror. “The first one is always a mistake. But with you, I got it right.”
“That's a good parenting thing to say,” Link said.
His father moved his hand to rest against the headrest of the passenger seat – purposefully hitting Link in the process – and checked the area before backing out of the parking spot.
“If there's anything I've learned as a father,” he started, putting the car into drive and navigating the parking lot. “It's that children will always test your patience. And in the end, you either kill them, or you come out a better person.”
“That's what you've learned?” Link rolled his eyes. “That's not much of a life lesson. The way I see it, we're still alive, and you're still a terrible parent.”
“Well, I never said I learned anything from that lesson,” his father said. “You try it and tell me how easy it is.”
“I'm easy, right Daddy?” Aryll said.
Her father practically snorted. “Don't ever be easy,” he muttered.
“You are the worst person,” Link said.
Aryll frowned. “Why can't I be easy?”
“Shut up, Ary,” Link snapped. “Why do you listen to anything he says?”
Aryll's lip quivered. “Because Daddy is the best daddy!”
“Yeah, Link,” his father said. “Haven't you gotten the memo?”
“Are we a bad family?” Aryll whined.
“We're so bad we're good,” her father said reassuringly to her.
But Aryll's brows only furrowed. “I don't know what that's supposed to mean, Daddy.”
Link groaned and let his head hit the window. “Why?” he said to himself. “Why me?”
“Don't be so dramatic,” his father said to him. “Your life would be so boring without us.”
“You know,” Link started. “I don't think that's such a bad thing.”
His father grinned over at him. “What's the matter, Mr. Hero? Day job getting to be too much for ya?”
Link's gaze narrowed on his father before he pulled away to look out the window, but he said nothing. He felt his father's gaze on him for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to his daughter.
“What's next, Your Highness?” he said in the rear view mirror.
*****
Link trudged along with his father and sister as they continued to drag him around the city, first to bring Aryll to the local shelter to play with the puppies, and then to her favorite ice cream stand where they each enjoyed an ice cream cone. It was nearing one o'clock when they finally made it home, but Link wasn't particularly in a hurry to get to their secret meeting. In fact, he was in a slightly better mood since that morning. Instead of unanswered questions about the Yiga Clan, the Gerudo, or even what Zelda wanted to talk about, he decided to focus his energy on following his little sister around as she showed him to her favorite dogs at the shelter. It felt like months since he had really spent time with his little sister, or his father for that matter, and for a moment, he appreciated their company and forgetting his own troubles, even if only for a little while.
But as one o'clock came around, he decided to make his way to Zelda's, where he was escorted inside nearly twenty minutes late. Despite that, the guards seemed to be expecting him, and they brought him right into a conference room of sorts where the rest of his friends waited. Revali looked at the invisible watch on his wrist as Link entered, and Zelda rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“Look who decided to show,” Daruk said.
“Late as always,” Revali commented.
Link flashed his fingers at Urbosa and wiggled them in the air. “Like the color?”
“Ah, yes,” she started. “Nude. Goes great with your makeup.”
Mipha looked down at her own, plain nails. “I stopped getting my done when they kept getting coated in all your blood,” she muttered.
Revali leaned over to Daruk and they inspected their own nails.
“Do you feel like doing manly stuff after this?” Daruk asked.
Revali nodded. “We are the only two men here. We must stand strong in our manliness. Link may be lost, but we do not have to succumb!”
“Can we get to it, then?” Zelda said tiredly. She dropped a couple of books on to the large, oval table.
“Let the secret meeting begin,” Daruk said with a nod.
“What's this about, anyway?” Urbosa asked.
Zelda hesitated. She opened one of the books on the table. “Well,” she started. “I was trying to do more research into these portals, specifically the first one we tried to find. Impa has been... less than helpful in the matter. Secretive, even. So, I decided to take matter into my own hands and try to get us ahead in this war.”
“And?” Revali asked.
“What I found is... unsettling.”
The group waited in silence for her to continue.
“This one talks about the fall of the hero,” she continued quietly. “It tells of a time where Hylia's descendant and her Chosen Hero failed in their duty to protect Hyrule.”
“How is that possible?” Revali said, his gaze narrowing. “I've been telling myself this whole time that we're destined to win this bullshit, and now you're telling me you're fucking ancestors have failed?”
Zelda's brows knit together. “It says that Ganondorf was able to take possession of the complete Triforce, but was sealed away by the Seven Sages. As a result, his power created a dark underworld, which is likely where all these beasts and monsters are coming from.”
“I don't understand,” Urbosa started. “He wasn't defeated, but Hyrule never fell to him?”
“The Triforce was eventually split,” Zelda explained, “which likely prevented him from doing further damage. The Triforce pieces of Courage and Wisdom found their way back to Hylia's descendant and the Chosen Hero. Through the efforts and sacrifices of the Sages and something about Knights, the next hero was able to rise and stop the next rise of Ganondorf. It's a continuous cycle.”
“So, long story short,” Revali said, crossing his arms. “We could still lose this war.”
Zelda hesitated and closed the book. “Yes, I suppose we could.”
“I can see why Impa wouldn't want us to find out,” Mipha said softly. She turned her gaze to Link, but he was looking down at his feet, stretched out in front of him as he leaned back in the leather chair. It turned side to side slightly.
“There's more,” Zelda said carefully. “In other books I've found. About the Sheikah.”
“I'm guessing it's not good news,” Daruk muttered.
Zelda shook her head. “It talks about the Yiga Clan.” She hesitated. “They're a group made up of ex Sheikah who have chosen to follow Ganondorf.”
“So, you're telling us that Impa may not be on our side?” Revali hissed. “She's setting us all up to die.”
Zelda pinched her lips together and averted her gaze. “No. I don't think so.”
“But you don't know,” Revali snapped at her.
“Why would the Sheikah do that?” Mipha asked.
“There were disagreements between the Hylians and the Sheikah,” Zelda explained. “The Sheikah wanted to use advanced technologies to help defeat Ganondorf, but the Hylians were skeptical, to say the least. They were afraid of the technology being misused and thus distrusted the Sheikah. The Sheikah became outcasts, and those that were angry at the betrayal broke their loyalties with the kingdom of Hyrule. They formed the Yiga Clan and dedicated themselves to serving Ganondorf.”
“Do we know if the Yiga Clan still exists?” Daruk asked.
Zelda shook her head.
“We need answers,” Mipha said. “Impa will have to know something about this.”
“She won't help me,” Zelda said, shaking her head. “Every time I bring something up, she tells me that they're just legends, or stories from Hyrule's history.” She paused. “I haven't dared ask her about the Yiga Clan.”
“She's hiding something,” Daruk said.
“We'll need to take this into our own hands,” Urbosa said.
“But how?” Mipha asked. “We don't know where to begin.”
“I have an idea,” Urbosa replied. She tapped a manicured finger on the book. “There's mention of an old, Yiga Clan hideout in the Gerudo Desert.”
“You're not serious,” Link said, cocking a brow. “That desert is huge. There's nothing out there. You couldn't pay me to go out there.”
“I have to agree with Link,” Revali said. “We'll definitely get lost and die out there.”
Urbosa rolled her eyes. “It's not a wasteland.”
“Actually,” Mipha said. “That is the technical term for a place with no inhabitants.”
“Hundreds of thousands of years ago, the Gerudo race thrived there.”
“And there's a reason why they don't anymore,” Daruk pointed out.
“What do you suppose happened to them?” Zelda asked softly. She flipped through the pages of the book. “Wouldn't it be worth finding out?”
“Maybe,” Mipha said.
Revali shook his head. “We don't have enough information on the Yiga Clan. And we don't have the time to waste trying to get answers,” he said. “For all we know, Ganondorf could make his appearance tomorrow. We need to focus our efforts on stopping him before he gets his chance. We need to close the portals and give ourselves every advantage we can get our hands on.”
“That's the smartest idea you've had yet,” Daruk said.
Revali shrugged. “It happens from time to time. Especially when the other options are completely suicide. I'm not throwing my life away like that.”
“It seems like the Triforce is causing a whole lot of problems,” Mipha said.
“Yeah,” Revali agreed. “Wouldn't it be simpler to, I don't know, destroy it or something?”
Zelda shook her head. “The Triforce is what keeps our world in balance. Without it, the whole world would be destroyed. And from some of the books I've read, that's exactly what someone tried to do. It's our responsibility to protect it and keep it from falling into the wrong hands. The curse of Demise thousands of years ago is one we must bear for all of time.”
“So, what's the plan, then?” Urbosa asked. “The portals – did you find anything of use?”
“There is something,” Zelda said slowly. “Impa had every reason to send us to the forest in search of the first portal. It seems that when the sword was removed, that may have been what started everything.”
“What do you mean?” Link asked, narrowing his gaze on her.
“I mean,” she started. “When you removed the sword, you opened the first portal.”
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knightwingyj · 6 years ago
Text
Little Do You Know Ch 5
The background was coming together nicely and would certainly draw the viewer’s eyes to the center of the piece. Markus placed his brush to the side and took a cleansing breath. The color was muted, not much different than the original color of the canvas but it had a few shades and breaks to avoid feeling too empty. His phone buzzed on the side table, breaking the calm environment he had created and startling him a bit. Annoyance pinched his face as he snatched up the Plastic-wrapped device. The annoyance vanished with a grin when he saw who had texted him.
               â€˜Why the fuck are there so many shades of white?!’
               Shaking his head, Markus typed back a response with paint-stained fingers.
               â€˜Hello to you too, Conner.’
               The young CFO only tended to curse when he was beyond frustrated with something and whatever it was had to be particularly grating to warrant the drop of the F-bomb. It wasn’t long before his phone buzzed again.
               â€˜Seriously, white is white.’
               â€˜And hi Markus.’
               The painter chuckled.
               â€˜What has white ever done to you?’
               â€˜Besides supposedly having more than one shade?’
               â€˜Having my fiancĂ©e and her mother asking me whether cream or eggshell goes better with eggplant.’
               â€˜EGGPLANT MARKUS!!!’
               A laugh escaped him on that one. It seems Conner is in desperate need of saving.
               â€˜Tell them to go with a bright white.’
               â€˜Anything else and it’ll just look dirty.’
               The phone in his hands remained still as he patiently waited for the verdict. Ding.
               â€˜They officially believe me to be a color genius.’
               â€˜Thank you!’
               Chuckling softly, Markus typed his reply.
               â€˜Glad to be of service.’
               â€˜I expect payment in the form of Pauli’s giant caramel mocha shake.’
               â€˜You got it.’
               That winky face at the end did things to Markus’ insides that should be considered illegal. Cheeks aching, he set his phone down and set about cleaning up his supplies. He was in the middle of cleaning up his brushes when his phone suddenly blew up. A little startled, he dried his hands as quickly as he could and hurried to grab his phone that was doing it best impression of Carol of the Bells. “Jesus, Conner,” he muttered to himself, opening his messages.
               â€˜This was a huge mistake.’
               â€˜Mayday! Mayday! They want my ‘expertise’ for the rehearsal dinner place settings.’
               â€˜I don’t know anything about place settings!’
               â€˜Markus, help me!!’
               â€˜Why are there so many shades of the same color?!’
               â€˜MARKUS!’
               â€˜Oh, why didn’t I lie?!’
               â€˜I blame you for this.’
               â€˜No shake for you.’
               His smile grew wider with each new message and he could practically hear Conner’s panicky voice in each one. The last one had him dissolving into chortles and scrambling to answer back. The deliciousness of Pauli’s shakes was on the line.
               Conner sighed and rubbed his eyes. Figuring out the color schemes for the wedding ceremony, reception, and rehearsal dinner compounded into a migraine despite the marvelous tips from the man behind the curtain, or massage as it were. He could hear Hank’s hastily muffled laughter as Chloe dragged him from one set of China to another. It was unfortunate that his bodyguard was immune to his glares or we would have been a steaming pile of goo on the department store floor.
               Rubbing his temples, he almost didn’t notice Conan approach him. “Headache?” His brother asked.
               â€œUnfortunately.”
               â€œI’ll have someone bring you an aspirin, but for now,” the slight warning tone in Conan’s voice set Conner on edge. “She wants to see you.”
               Something akin to ice flashed through his veins and all expression slid from his face. “Thank you for informing me.” Conan nodded seriously. A hand on his bicep squeezed reassuringly before he mounted the stairs.
               The door was closed, it always was, and he allowed himself a moment to purge and collect his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he turned the brass knob and entered. Her office at the manor was almost identical to the one at Cyberlife, all cool colors and sharp edges. He avoided this room like that plague when he was a kid, afraid that he would somehow impale himself on the furniture or art around the room. There was even the accent wall with blood red roses creeping up to the ceiling. That’s where he found her, carefully pruning the flowers she loved so much.
               â€œGood afternoon, Conner.” Amanda greeted unbothered to turn and address him.
               Conner stood stock still, hands clasped behind his back, ram-rod straight, and eyes fixed on a point just above her head. “Good afternoon, Mother.”
               â€œHow was your time with Chloe?” Those hands, thin but precise, snipped the dead and dying leaves and blooms from the healthy ones.
               â€œProductive. We managed to finalize the color scheme and place settings for both the rehearsal dinner and reception if you should want to review it.”
               â€œI’m sure what you two have chosen with be sufficient.” She dismissed the suggestion with barely a wave or her shears. “And Chloe? How is she handling everything?”
               â€œRemarkably well. She had booked the venue for both events and the ‘save the date’ cards have been delivered.”
               â€œExcellent. Very good, Conner.” Snip. Snip. “And how much time have you spent together?”
               Conner’s brow pinched as he attempted to understand her question. “We were together today during the selection.”
               â€œI meant outside planning for the wedding and your work at Cyberlife.” Snip. “How much time have you spent together recreationally?” Snip. Snip. Snip.
               A pale hand tightened around a thin wrist, sending pens and needles dancing down his fingers. “Not much, I’m afraid.”
               Amanda hummed, displeased with his answer. “Take her out tonight. Spend some downtime with your fiancĂ©e. If you want to form any kind of relationship with her, you actually have to put in the work.”
               Her tone dictated that this wasn’t a suggestion and Conner’s own grip was becoming painful. He was probably leaving behind bruises. Tonight was supposed to be his night with Markus. They had planned a Star Trek marathon after the artist discovered his lack of sci-fi knowledge and was determined to make him a ‘true Trekkie’. Now, it would seem that he’d have to cancel. Nails dug into the flesh of his wrist to keep his expression from voicing his displeasure.
               â€œYou may go, Conner. Enjoy tonight.” Snip. Dismissed.
               â€œThank you, Mother.” Conner bowed his head to her back before walking out the door and calmly closing it behind him. He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was not how he imagined this day going.
               Retreating to his room, he barricaded himself in and hit speed dial on his phone. He counted three rings before it was answered. “Well, hello there stranger. Thanks for all the text messages, you kinda blew up my phone.” The sound of Markus’ voice never failed to put a smile on his face.
               â€œSorry about that.”
               â€œDon’t worry about it. It was a pleasant distraction.” There was the sound of rustling as if Markus had shifted the phone to a more comfortable angle against his ear. “So, what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”
               For a split second, Conner had forgotten why he had called, content to just listen to Markus speak, but the question brought him back to the true purpose of the conversation and his smile fell. “Markus, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel tonight.”
               â€œIs everything alright?”
               â€œDepends on your definition.” He took a deep breath. “Amanda has informed me that I have been neglectful in my duties to Chloe and has
suggested that I take her out this evening. I won’t be able to attend out marathon.”
               â€œOkay, raincheck then,” Markus replied pleasantly.
               Conner blinked. “You’re not upset?”
               â€œNot, why would I be?”
               â€œâ€Šbecause I wasn’t able to stick to the original agreement we had made?”
               â€œAnd that’s okay. You’re human, Conner. Things are going to mess up our plans all the time. You just have to adapt a bit. Nobody’s perfect.” There was silence as Conner tried to process what he had said. “I’m not mad, Conner,” Markus assured softly.
               â€œPromise?” Conner cringed at the very child-like question that slipped out.
               â€œPromise.” He could hear the fond smile drifting through the speaker.
               Conner practically deflated with relief. “Okay. I just wish
”
               â€œI know. Me too.” Not for the first time, Conner wondered how he was lucky enough to warrant having a friend like Markus. They took a moment to just listen to each other breath, each morning for their lost time and secretly yearning for the next to come. “Go see Chloe, Conner. We’ll hang out another time.” Markus said softly breaking the fragile silence.
               â€œAlright. Goodbye, Markus and don’t watch any without me.” The last part was added hastily and was only partly playful.
               â€œOf course not,” there was that smile again. “Goodbye, Conner.” There was a faint click and Conner pulled the device away from his ear. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it would have to do for now. Finding himself sighing again, Conner typed out a quick message.
               â€˜Would you care to join me for dinner tonight at Maroni’s?’
               Chloe’s response was almost immediate.
               â€˜I would love to!’
               â€˜I’ll pick you up at six.’
               â€˜Can’t wait!’
               Chloe’s emojis didn’t make him smile quite like Markus’ does.
               Here he was in another suit at yet another event he had no desire to be at. Chloe sat across the table from him, a vision in lavender, delicately spinning her pasta with her silver fork and spoon. His own ravioli was slowly cooling in the white china dinner plate in front of him. Hank sat at the table next to them, silently enjoying his own meal while scanning the area around them and not-so-subtly rolling his eyes at their inability to fill the space between them with any type of conversation. Conner took small sips of his wine from the spotless crystal glass, eyes fixed on the candle flickering the silver candlestick in the center of the immaculate white table cloth.
               His eyes flickered to Hank, who gave him a pointed look and gestured to Chloe, mouthing an aggressive ‘talk to her’. He cleared his throat. “How is your food?” He asked and Hank face-palmed.
               â€œIt’s delicious,” Chloe replied with a polite smile. “And yours?”
               â€œIt is very good.”
               â€œThat’s good.” The silence was back, and Conner could feel Hank’s unimpressed glare heating up the side of his face and he pointedly avoided looking over. He was getting a lecture on the finer point of social conversations on the way home tonight for sure.
               â€œI wanted to thank you for taking me out tonight.” She said fork pushing the pasta around her plate. “I know we haven’t seen much of each other these past few weeks, with both of us being so busy.”
               â€œI know,” he acknowledged. “I apologize for neglecting you.”
               â€œOh, I’m not upset or anything. I mean, both of us have lives to live. I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to spend tonight with me. That’s all.”
               â€œOh
” he didn’t really know what to say to that. “You are welcome, I suppose.”
               She smiled warmly at him. “Were you able to watch the play the other night? Or did you give the tickets away?”
               â€œRight, the play. Um
” his mind flashed to Pauli’s dinner, laughing and enjoying great food with a certain beautifully mismatched man. He couldn’t decide if this feeling was bitter or sweet to the taste. “I went for a portion of it but wasn’t able to stay for the full performance. Special
circumstances arose that required my
immediate attention.”
               â€œOh, that’s too bad.” Chloe’s hands disappeared beneath the table. “I would have liked to hear how it ended.
               That bittersweet taste soured, and he swallowed the rest of his wine to chase it away. The awkward silence was back, making his ears ring painfully. The conversations of the other patrons nor the soft music playing over invisible speakers did nothing to dispel it. It was, of course, Chloe that broke it. “Do you remember that carousel that we used to ride all the time when we were kids?” She asked looking away as her hand tapped her chin. “I can’t remember the name of it.”
               He knew exactly which one she was referring to. “The Cullen Carousel.”
               Her eyes lit up. “Yes, that’s the one.”
               â€œYes, I remember it.” He smiled. “I also happened to remember that your brother challenged us that we couldn’t ride it without throwing up.”
               She giggled, hand covering her mouth. “Yeah, and each of us rode it till we did.”
               â€œIf I remember correctly, you beat us all. Rode it ten times.”
               â€œYou were a close second.”
               â€œThen Elijah.”
               â€œThen, of course, Conan.” She giggled again. “Poor Conan, he was never very good with rides.”
               Conner shook his head fondly. “He had a weak stomach. He would get so mad at me when I forced him onto anything with any kind of spin to it. He’d always end up a little green afterward.”
               They laughed lightly together, bonding of memories of their shared childhood. “Those were the days, weren’t they?” She said wistfully. “No work. No responsibilities.” She shifted slightly in her seat, the mood dropping quickly with her tone. “Whatever happened to those days, Conner? We used to be such good friends and now
now, we hardly talk to each other.”
               Conner looked away, staring into the bottom of the wine glass rolling between his fingers. He couldn’t answer her. So much had changed since then. He had changed.
               â€œHey,” a perfectly manicured hand reached across the table and gently grabbed his wrist. He glanced up at his
fiancĂ©e. She smiled softly at him, blue eyes glowing in the candlelight. “Why don’t we go?”
               His head tilted. “Go where?”
               â€œBack to the carousel. I’m sure it’s still there. We could go back to those days. Just for a little while.”
               His mouth opened to refuse her. There was no use in dwelling in the past, but
maybe
just this once. The smile grew on his face. “Let’s go.”
               Grinning, they stood together, and Conner helped her put on her coat. Hank glanced at them confused. “Just where are you two going?” He asked standing as well.
               â€œOn an adventure,” Chloe declared giggling.
               â€œWould you bring the car around Hank?” Conner asked slipping into his own coat. To his credit, Hank just shook his head and did as he was asked.
               They paid the bill and were soon cruising toward Cullen Plaza and the childhood memories hidden there. They could see the operator starting to close down the carousel and ran the rest of the way. “Wait, sir! Wait!” Chloe called trying to catch her breath.
               â€œI’m closing up for the night, guys.” Said the man with the name tag the read, ‘Jerry’.
               â€œWe know. We would just like a few minutes. Please?” Conner asked.
               Jerry’s eyes flicked between the two of them, taking in their ruffled evening clothes and faces filled with childish hope. He sighed good-naturedly and smiled. “A few minutes.”
               Chloe bounced in excitement and Conner thanked the man and handed him a hundred for his trouble. They opened the gate and rushed to the glowing carousel. Chloe chose a beautifully-painted white stallion and Conner mounted the chestnut one next to her. The music started up and the ride began to spin slowly. Chloe giggled and for a moment, Conner could see the little girl he knew years ago. Platinum blond hair up in pigtails and chubby cheeks pink with laughter. Feet barely able to reach the stirrups and safety belt wrapped around her waist. What had happened to the feeling of freedom that came with those days? How did things get so jaded with age? That little girl was one of his close friends and now? Now, he found himself engaged to her with no desire to replace what they had back then. Why did life have to taint those good memories?
               The carousel slowed to a stop and they got off, Chloe still giggling. They thanked Jerry and walked back to the car where Hank was waiting with an amused smile. The ride back to the Kamski’s mansion was filled with Chloe reminiscing about their childhood and Conner doing his utmost not to ruin the mood.
               Ever the gentleman, Conner walked her to the door. “Thank you for tonight, Conner. I haven’t had fun like that in a while. Hopefully, we can do it again soon.” She said hesitantly, brushing a stray curl from her face.
               â€œOf course, Chloe,” Conner replied with a polite smile. “Goodnight.”
               As he went to turn away, a hand on his arm stopped him. Resting on the step just below her, Chloe was able to look him in the eye and she stepped toward him. The same panicked feeling from that afternoon in his office bubbled up inside him, threatening to burst. His muscles seized as her warm breath ghosted over his face and he held his breath to keep from hyperventilating. The moment her glossy lips met his, his hand flew to her arm as if to push her away.
               A little voice in the back of his head informed him that this is what an engaged couple does. They were affectionate, intimate, with each other. Be affectionate, Conner. That sounded too much like Amanda. Swallowing down the panic, he forced himself to loosen his grip and just allow what was happing.
               Encouraged by his reaction, Chloe’s head tilted, slotting her lips against his closed mouth. Her hand held the back of his neck, keeping him from escaping.
               You can stop now, he pleaded. Please stop. It was as if she heard him as she finally, finally, broke the kiss. She seemed more relaxed in her smile as she gazed lovingly at him. Don’t do that. “Goodnight, Conner.” Her voice was husky, and he shivered. It had nothing to do with desire. She turned away and headed inside, and Conner could finally breathe. A shaking hand wiped at his mouth and he desperately tried to calm his racing heart.
               The night seemed like a success. He had spent the adequate amount of time with Chloe and was even affectionate towards her. The little trip down memory lane was unexpected and it wasn’t clear if it had been welcome. Amanda would be proud. So, why did he feel like he was going to be sick?
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imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch · 7 years ago
Text
I Love You, You Pay My Rent: Chapter Seven
First Chapter (Prologue)
Previous Chapter (Chapter Six)
Nico had been living with Will solace for five weeks and he was starting to think he finally got Will. All the things he’d found mysterious in the beginning – the constant absences, the need for having someone else in the apartment, - all of that could be explained. Far from being shallow and uninterested in hard work as Nico had initially thought, all those times Nico had thought he was out in clubs he was usually just in the library studying. As for needing someone else in the apartment, Nico got that too. He preferred having Will around; it made the space feel less empty. He liked coming in to see Will with about five textbooks open and spread out around him, or sprawled on the sofa watching tv. Coming home to Will felt more like coming home than opening the door to find an empty apartment.
Five weeks in he was also beginning to accept he was pretty much doomed in terms of avoiding a particularly painful crush. Still despite Nico nearly kissing him in the museum, Will seemed mercifully oblivious. Maybe he’d just thought Nico was doing his part as Will’s public boyfriend. However Will had rationalised it, he hadn’t brought it up and Nico certainly wasn’t going to.
So, despite the fact he was slowly falling desperately hard in love and working his hardest to ignore it, Nico was surprisingly content. The only thing that gnawed at his conscience was the fight with Percy. He felt guiltier and guiltier day by day. He was still angry, that wasn’t something he could let go of in a day however much easier that would make his life, but he regretted telling Percy he wished he were dead. He wished Bianca wasn’t dead but no matter how much he resented Percy’s part in everything, he didn’t wish Percy had taken Bianca’s place.
His feelings towards Percy were messy but even through the misery and the pain and the anger, Percy was his friend. It was annoying but it was true.
He’d asked Hazel what she thought he should do as they were waiting for her train. She’d been straightforward as ever. She’d asked him if he regretted it and he’d admitted he had. So say sorry, she’d said.
It was good advice. It was what he knew he should do. But because he was him, he’d been putting it off. He was worried he’d finally pushed Percy too far, that he’d lost his friend. The thought scared him more than he’d expected and he began to realise that the final shreds of his crush might have finally loosened their hold on his heart.
Eventually, one afternoon when he was alone in the apartment, he received a text from Jason talking about some detail of the engagement party – something to do with dolphins and doughnuts and Percy had the worst taste seriously how had he ever been attracted to that guy – and Nico realised he’d been seriously out of the engagement loop. The thought made him pause and he wondered if maybe he was out of the wedding.
Not that he could really blame Percy if he was.
It was enough to shock him into opening up a text to Percy, cringing slightly when he saw the last message between the two of them had been Percy wishing him a happy Christmas two years ago.
Dolphins Jackson really?
Then with shaking hands.
I’m sorry. Am I still your best man?
Percy didn’t reply for long enough that Nico began to accept he’d screwed up big time. Then in quick succession came a defence of dolphins, an entire essay about this amazing cake place who did these really awesome cupcakes in the shape of famous buildings and wouldn’t those be perfect and did Nico want to come cake tasting with him, and finally a confirmation that of course he was still best man and did he have a preference on tie colour. The overload of information was peppered liberally with exclamation marks and emojis. Normally Percy’s over dramatic texting style would have bugged Nico.
Instead he just smiled and sent back his customary one-word replies to all Percy’s questions feeling a little bit lighter.
Since Will said he would be in the library all day – which was no way to spend a Saturday – Nico had decided to do the food shopping for him. It was awful, migraine inducing experience. While he was in the store the weather had switched from a cold but dry late autumn day to torrential downpour. He’d gotten a taxi back since he had more spare cash these days, but even so the walk between the road and the doorway was enough to drench him. As he stood dripping wet, the bags spilling out on the floor around his feet, Octavian came out of his apartment just to make Nico’s day even worse.
“You’re still here then?” he asked, though he sounded like he didn’t care much either way.
His temper was reaching breaking point: his hair was dripping into his eyes, his was tshirt soaked through and clinging to him, and he had been struggling with the front door key which had decided to jam in the lock and no amount of twisting and turning was working to set it free. But he did make one heroic attempt to ignore Octavian’s smug face and general air of self-satisfiedness.
“Thought you would have scarpered by now,” Octavian continued, leaning against the doorframe and studying like one might study a particularly unappealing specimen in a lab. Nico grit his teeth together and  took a deep breath.
“After all Will –“
“Okay you know what Octavian,” Nico said giving up on the key and turning. “I don’t get what you have against Will and frankly I don’t care. But yes I’m still here and I’m going to stay being still here so just deal with it.”
Octavian didn’t look moved.
“Sure,” he said shrugging his shoulders, “you say that now. But when he comes home covered in blood or lies about where he goes, or he vanishes for a week you’ll change your mind. They all do.”
Nico pulled a face at his back as Octavian wandered off, hands jammed in his pockets.
He didn’t want to let Octavian’s words bother him, he really didn’t. There was probably no truth in them and Octavian was just trying to rile him up. Nico was just feeling settled he didn’t need to believe the stupid scrawny scarecrow who apparently had nothing better to do than sit around and be bitter, complain about the noise like a grouchy eighty-year-old and make up stupid lies about his neighbours. Nico trusted Will. He didn’t care what Octavian said. He didn’t.
But then Will went out again the next day, falling back into his old habits of spending more time out of the house than in it, the words began to have an effect. He hated that Octavian could get into his head so easily but as Will left, Nico found himself slipping out after him.
He felt ridiculous stalking Will. He nearly turned back several times but then he’d hear Octavian in his head all over again and a surge of anger forced him on. Will wasn’t lying about going to class, about studying in the library, about studying with Cecil and Lou Ellen. And Nico was going prove it.
Except they’d pretty much walked past the university and Will hadn’t stopped. But that didn’t mean Octavian was right. He was probably just meeting Cecil or Lou Ellen first.
Eventually Will turned off into a hospital and Nico felt a twinge of fear – was Will secretly sick? – before he realised that Will wanted to be a doctor, so it was perfectly natural for him to be hanging out in a hospital.
Nico immediately felt incredibly embarrassed. He’d been stupid to let Octavian bother him. He’d buy Will lunch to make up for it, he thought, and confess what he’d done and what Octavian had said.
He wandered along to a nearby coffee shop and ordered himself a black coffee, and Will a smoothie and a sandwich. As he waited a couple of girls got in line behind him, tapping away on their phones. He didn’t notice them at first, but when they began nudging each other and pointing at him he turned, wondering if he was supposed to recognise them. He didn’t, but he wasn’t great with faces. They went red when he turned and didn’t say anything, and he didn’t feel like confronting them. They’d probably gotten him confused with someone else and it wasn’t worth the fight. Instead he just picked up order and left the store.
He was planning on leaving Will’s lunch at the reception with a note, but when he walked in he saw Will himself talking to one of the nurses. Will looked surprised to see Nico and Nico felt a sudden urge but he came over anyway.
“Nico?”
“I brought you lunch,” he said offering the bag and the smoothie. Will took them looking slightly confused.
“Thanks?”
Nico shrugged.
“I kind of followed you and then felt bad about it so –“
Will gave him an even more confused look as he took a sip of smoothie.
“You followed me?” Will asked. “You could have just asked where I was? I have a phone?”
Nico shook his head.
“No I mean – “
Will gave him another strange look but before Nico could continue a little girl emerged from a nearby room and grabbed hold of Will’s hand.
“I said wait Lily,” Will said, but his voice was gentle.
“Bored!” Lily protested. “You took too long!” She tugged at his hand and Will began to smile. He let Lily pull him away.
“I’ll see you later Nico,” Will said with a grin.
Will apparently volunteered in the children’s ward. Great. Now he felt even worse.
Will texted him around midday and asked if he wanted to have lunch. Nico felt like he should probably explain himself and his extreme paranoia so he agreed.
When Will came out he was still ostensibly in a good mood but Nico sensed he was keyed up underneath his veneer of happiness. Nico wondered if it was because of the stalking thing but when he tried to mention it Will once again shrugged it off.
“It’s fine,” he insisted.
“It was an invasion of your privacy and I should have known better than to listen to Octavian implying whatever he was implying.”
Will shrugged.
“Octavian may not look like much but he’s got a way of getting into people’s heads. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“I don’t get why you’re not mad? I’d be mad.”
“Maybe I’m a better person than you are?” Will tried but his usual jokiness fell kind of flat. He sighed.
“Look I am just happy to see you alright? I’d probably be more annoyed any other day, but today it’s nice to see a friendly face.”
He crumpled up his sandwich wrapper, clenching it in his fist.
“Will?”
Will shook his head.
“You want to meet the kids?” he asked.
“Me?” Nico replied, slightly stunned because people didn’t usually ask him to meet children; they assumed him and children didn’t mix. They were right.
“No I’m talking to my invisible friend, who do you think?”
Nico thought about saying no, because children and he really wasn’t good with kids he was sure of that, but something about Will told him this was less about Nico meeting the kids and more about ill not being alone.
“Okay.”
The brightness of Will’s grin and the temporary relief in his eyes was worth whatever torture Nico was letting himself in for.
The children’s ward was cheerful and lively and not at all what Nico had imagined. A group of ten or so children had obviously been eagerly awaiting Will’s return because they rushed at him the second he came in the door. Will introduced him and as the children turned their eyes to him Nico felt a twinge of nervousness. They all gave him big bright grins and the little girl Nico recognised as Lily came and took Nico’s hand.
They were having an arts and crafts afternoon and someone had suggested making a puppet show. Nico helped some of the kids make princess and superhero puppets which quickly devolved into them dressing Nico up as a princess superhero. He sat very still as small hands fiddled with his hair, drew blush on with pink marker and affixed a golden sequin covered crown atop his head. He had been having fun, not just because every time he met Will’s eyes and saw the strange mixture of amusement, pride and something else he couldn’t identify he felt like he was melting. When it came time to say goodbye he was presented with parting gifts: a “magic wand”, a drawing of himself (or possibly a shadow demon he wasn’t sure and it seemed rude to ask) and a huge group hug.
“You’re good with kids,” Will said as they walked home together.
Nico gave Will a surprised look.
“I just let them play with my hair,” he said. “It wasn’t hard.”
“And dress you up like a superhero,” Will added.
“I’m a princess superhero, thank you very much!”
Will laughed.
“I hope that pen wasn’t permanent,” he commented.
“Me too or else I’m definitely going to blame you Solace. And possibly get revenge by redecorating your face while you sleep.”
“I’m quaking in my shoes,” Will said very dryly.
“You should be.”
“Terrified,” Will confirmed very dryly. “You are after all, the most scary person I’ve ever met.”
Nico got the feeling he was being sarcastic.
“Shut up Solace.”
At home Will hung around in the living room, seemingly unable to decide on what to do. He’d pick something up only to put it down seconds later. In the time it took Nico to get the coke out of the fridge, pour himself a glass and replace it, Will had gone through reading, tv and studying.
“Movie?” Nico suggested.
Will actually jumped.
“Huh?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.
Nico went over to him, forced Will to sit.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
Will stared at him for a moment, and then looked down at his lap, twisting the rubber bracelet he sometimes wore round and round nervously.
“Will?” Nico asked gently.
“Sorry,” Will said with a slightly wry grin. “I know I’m probably being a bit annoying.”
“Not really. Not any more than usual.”
Will’s grin was a little more genuine this time. He was still fiddling though: wringing his hands together, rubbing at his wrist.
“My sister,” Will said suddenly, his voice so quiet Nico had to lean forward slightly. “Kayla. She had leukaemia a couple of years back. She’s got better but she’s going back for a check-up tomorrow and I’m scared –“
His voice broke off.
“I’m sure she’s okay. She should be okay if the universe was fair. But that’s not – that’s not how the story usually goes.”
He shrugged, voice trembling.
“Maybe Octavian is right about me,” he said and Nico wanted to protest that no the walking talking scarecrow probably had never been right about anything and if he said the world was round Nico would have cause to doubt it.  
“I would volunteer with the kids anyway. They’re great. But I always volunteer more whenever Kayla’s got an appointment coming up. It’s really stupid. Like if maybe I’m a good person I won’t be punished anymore and they won’t take Kayla away. I’m selfish.”
“You’re not selfish Will Solace. No way.”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I’m who everyone else thinks I am.”
Nico didn’t know what to say. He was so surprised by Will suddenly opening up he was stunned silent anyway but he also had no idea how to comfort Will, what he could say to make Will feel better. On impulse he reached out and took Will’s hands, if only to stop Will rubbing his skin away. Will froze for a moment obviously surprised and Nico was about to jerk back but then Will squeezed his hands.
“Thanks Nico. For being there today.”
“You mean for stalking you?”
“Yeah okay maybe that bit wasn’t so great. But it turned out okay. Just don’t do it again.”
“Never,” Nico promised fervently and meant it entirely. He was never going to listen to Octavian again. Screw that living skeleton.
“So what do you want to do?” he asked, taking his hands back. Will raised an eyebrow at him.
“You can’t spend all evening worrying. I know it must be scary but we need to take your mind off this. Else you are going to drive yourself up the wall.”
Will bit his lip and nodded in rueful agreement.
“So? Movie? Mythomagic? Games? Uh we don’t have a very varied roster do we?”
Will giggled a little.
“Karaoke?” he suggested. “Russian roulette?”
Nico gave him a look.
“Just trying some variety.”
“That variety sucked. I genuinely don’t know which one of those two suggestions was worse.”
Will mimed a parody of Nico talking and Nico shoved him but gently because he was aware Will might be acting more normal but he was still fragile.
“Dancing!” Wil said suddenly.
“That might actually be the worst –“
“I’m serious!” Will interrupted. “I’m your date to the engagement party right? There’s going to be dancing and I’m not having you show me up. I need to assess your skills.”
“I can
 dance.”
“I don’t think you could sound any less convincing if you tried,” Will said.
“Will I don’t dance,” Nico said but he said it hesitantly because he was very aware that Will would probably do the puppy eyes and he would probably cave instantly.
“Everyone can dance,” Will said dismissively. “Besides you also said you weren’t good with children and that turned out to be an enormous lie.”
Nico looked at Will. And yep, he was doing the thing again where he looked all bright and enthusiastic and happy and it made Nico’s heart feel all fluttery and his will soften until he was malleable. And why did he have to fall for someone who had such charm and didn’t even seem to know?
“Fine.”
Will clapped his hands together.
“It’ll be fun,” he said. “I promise. And if you really really hate it today we won’t have to dance at the engagement thing.”
“We don’t have to dance at the engagement thing anyway,” Nico commented. “But if that’s your offer you should have led with that. I’m prepared to accept those terms.”
“Deal then,” Will said laughing. He pulled Nico up to his feet and Nico tried hard not to blush the second he felt Will’s hand in his.
“Disney?” Nico asked with a sigh as Will fiddled about with his iPod and the speakers.
“This is a great cover,” Will said.
“Where’s this particular one from?” Nico asked trying to summon up his usual layer of disinterest but actually the song was kind of catchy with a good beat, and ugh, Will was rubbing off on him.
“The Jungle Book,” Will said. “Now come on, I remember you cleaning: you weren’t half bad.”
Nico assumed he was referring to the washing machine disaster.
“Actually I think you did most of the dancing then,” Nico mumbled but he obliged just to see Will’s reaction. He couldn’t believe the way Will completely lit up at his swaying reluctantly from side to side.
“Not bad,” Will said. His dancing was kind of mesmerising, so carefree and happy as he bobbed along, singing along and getting the voices and inflections just right. He let Will grab his hands and force him to sway a little more. His heart double-tied to match the beat and he hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. He didn’t object when Will turned him, just starting laughing.
If dancing usually made you feel this light he could see why people did it.
“You know I’m only humouring you because you have a pretty legitimate sob story right?” Nico asked as Will flicked through his music catalogue.
Will just stuck out his tongue because he was a mature individual.
“You’re a liar Nico di Angelo,” Will said. “Don’t cope well with kids. Don’t dance. Yeah right.”
“Humouring you,” Nico insisted but he was sure his cheeks were heating up.
“Is this more to your taste?”
It was the Ramones. Nico was surprised he remembered.
“Alright,” he said suddenly.
“Alright?”
“Alright, you’re right. We should dance at the engagement party. I mean it will keep up the charade.”
And I kind of really like dancing with you, and I really don’t know when to quit to save myself future heartache.
“Admit it,” Will said. “You just like dancing.”
Nico smirked at him, but didn’t admit it.
“I think what I liked most is annoying Octavian. I predict he’ll be knocking on the walls any time soon.”
Will laughed.
“Well if we turn the music up we won’t have to hear him.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
The dance party quickly turned into an over exaggerated karaoke party which Will got to be smug about because Nico found out that that was yet another thing he didn’t hate when he was in Will’s presence. He managed to keep Will occupied with games, and then a couple of cartoons. They ordered food, Will pocketed his fortune cookie with an irritated expression (and Nico was sure he’d requested not to get any), and finally watched Mamma Mia because Will said there wasn’t nothing like a stupid storyline and ABBA songs to cheer you up. Nico disagreed with the sentiment entirely but was content enough to let Will have his way.
He stayed with Will until Will could barely keep his eyes open and then sent him packing to his room to sleep. Nico ended up lying awake, however, staring at the ceiling and wondering how he was going to move on from Will Solace. That was how he knew that at about half past one Will crept out. He didn’t let it worry him though. He didn’t need to know where Will was going though: he trusted him.
Next Chapter
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liebeztod · 8 years ago
Text
cheap sex and sad films
Once again, the overwhelming sense of inadequacy inhabits the pit of my stomach. There’s something about your best friends being in love--and happily so--that really puts a sour spin in every sunset and song. Suddenly... it’s hard to sleep again... even when fatigue weighs at my eyes with the day’s worries. My irrationality serves as the best caffeine; keeping me up at night with its usual doldrum anxieties... 
Tonight is no different, as I mull over the same insecurities while listening to my own infamous playlist chock-full of songs of self-loathing and/or melancholy. 
How do I always end up here? Well, I have wonderful friends, and of course, I want them to be happy. But there was a comfort in not being single alone... what I mean by that is... since Nat and her boyfriend broke up earlier last year, suddenly it was nice not to be the odd one out. However when she started dating again, and we all got together for brunch with she and Juby and their beaux--I the only one without having brought â€œsomeone”--suddenly the empty chair to my side felt very noticeable.
Not to mention the comments made a little while later... when Juby’s boyfriend mentioned how he felt sorry for me when I didn’t have anyone to bring to functions, and how setting me up with some mutual friend was the best possible option... suddenly I felt like that Old Maid I always read about in books like Gone With The Wind or Pride & Prejudice... this undesirable old hag who needs her matches made for her... 
The thing is, it’s a thought that crosses my mind more often than naught ever since it’s been brought up. I think about it all the time. And I mean this... all the time. I have conversations with myself daily... imaginary, silly discussions about whether it’s an inability of mine to find a SO, or a deep desire of just not wanting one in general.
I entertain both notions.
On the one hand, where’s the good in having a boyfriend? When I think of the men I have been with, or the type of men I attract, I am... disgusted. In my last physical venture,  I felt sick to the stomach. Not that the guy I slept with was absurdly unattractive or a bad person, but because I knew I was. Because he mentioned dating, and I was just in it for the meaningless sex.
And then there are all the other men I’ve been with (excluding my darling Martin from Munich) who all had to make some kind of disclosure about my weight... like “you’re pretty for a chubby girl,” or â€œI like bigger girls” yadda yadda. As someone who still struggles with the comments made to me in my adolescence about my weight, it’s still very hard for me to unlearn the â€œconventional” body ideals I grew up coveting; and with friends like I had in high school, the jokes made at my behest have made their mark rather permanent.
And then there are the moments when, if I do want to engage a man in what my generation calls â€œtalking,” I am put off by the â€œbusy” trope. Of course, men are always busy when *I* want to start a conversation, or they are short--can’t be bothered. But when the night hours are in session, when a guy has a boner he wants to rub out with the help of my textual expertise, then suddenly they’re Charles Dickens, getting paid by the mouthful.
They’re all the same.
Which brings me to my next point: has my loss of desire in the opposite sex evolved into a straight-up inability on my part to find any necessity in finding an SO? Suddenly I find that I am no longer in want of the occasional hookup, nor do I get the itch to download a dating app, or talk to random men when going out with my friends.
In the now WEEKLY events that my friends suggest introducing me to someone, I panic. I become drenched in dread, and talk my way out of it. Truly. 
There is something about the incessant dredge that is â€œtalking” to a guy that feels like I’m going through an embalming process; like when I have to sit through a conversation that sounds like ALL the others, it’s as though my blood is being drained from my body. Every attempt a man makes at flirting makes me roll my eyes; every winky emoji boils my blood, and any indication of â€œkicking it” or â€œchilling” is all it takes for me to put down the phone and quit replying.
And I am just tired. When my friends find their weekly opportunity to pitch a new beau to me, it is hard to respectfully decline. Each man I have encountered all seem to be working from the same script... the same stupid jokes they think I’ll find funny... the same nighttime schedule which prompts them to only text me at night when they’re horny and bored.
Love has eluded me. 
Life has dealt me the blow of meeting the love of my life at the premature age of 13. It has also added insult to injury by putting him on a completely different continent, ensuring a personal meeting ten years after the fact, and once again separating us by the sole reality of different nationalities, families and incompatibilities. 
I think... what did I do in my past life to deserve this? I am being punished for something I cannot remember doing, and to make it worse, I am very much alone in this lifetime sentence of unrequited love.
If I am the villain, and it sure feels that way, I wonder if â€œtragedy” is inapplicable to my plight. I feel neurotic at times, feeling the way I do for someone I spent a whole of perhaps 30 hours with. But when I psychoanalyze the phone conversations, and try to find hidden meanings in what he says... I chock it up to us being one in the same; beating around the bush, being afraid of saying what we mean, etc., etc.
But, in my momentary laps of sanity, like this moment, I know I am alone in this. P does not work from the same script as all the other idiot men I have let try to woo me; however it is similar, in that he has his own schedule. And similar to my own script, he ignores me, as I ignore the other men.
It is infuriating as much as it is deflating when my text messages and calls to P go unanswered. Especially so this week... now that Nat has found someone new, it feels a bit like salt in the wound; of course, I am happy she is happy. But naturally, there is a envy I do not know how to detach myself from. 
It’s one thing to be kept up by my sorrows. But to hear her gush about her insomnia brought on by her happiness and excitement of this new guy is... distressing to say the least.
There is a worry that this feeling will elude me indefinitely, as much as I want it, and as much as I have tried in the past to move on from P. My friends tell me I need to open up, and that I will find someone who is â€œgreat,” but hard as I try, I cannot see anything but a man’s ulterior motives, their insincerities, their comments about my weight, their disclosures and disclaimers.
I feel brash enough to say I feel trapped in my love for P; I am a prisoner of my own dissatisfaction for what life has dealt me, and because I am either in love with being sad, or just stupidly devoted for P, or both, I refuse to help myself.
And yet, like some caged bird staring out at other birds, flying free against the blue of the sky, I am jealous of it. Hearing Nat smitten by this new player has me so curious; when was the last time I felt butterflies? At what point did cynicism invade every fiber of my being? I would like to be like my friends who are excited after meeting a nice boy who wants to talk to them, and take them out. 
The butterflies in my stomach are lifeless, and are only revived after a word or a ring from P. And when a week or two passes by of not hearing from him, they die again, which is time’s way, I suppose.
The thing is... I do not find other men to be nice. And when they are, they are not. And I know I am not nice. And through my P-tinted glasses every suitor just looks like a poor substitution. And when the humiliation of being single gets to be too much, I will finally do just what I am most afraid of doing: settle. 
It is just hard going on three years of this accursed want for P, feelings that have only gotten stronger with the distance and time and the reality that I will most likely never see him again. In being denied the only person I have ever wanted, you would hope this makes me a better person but I doubt it can. 
In lieu of the the melancholy that keeps me up all night, I will reside in the memories where he felt attainable and hope they will suffice. 
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