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mikolovesracing · 4 months ago

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you know what i call that?

((::or in this case lando and oscar are too scared to confess their feelings so they do it in their thoughts looking at each other from across the club and charles leclerc is an instigating bitch::))

————————————————————

i can’t even look in his direction, it’s giving me a migraine

lando was internalizing again, he had this horrid habit of simply letting things simmer, but in the strobe and colour of the monaco club that he had found himself in, he couldn’t take his eyes off the one boy who looked perfect in every scenario. sure he was at least fifteen or so feet away, dancing incredibly close to alex and george and watching him made lando spiral even further. he had this rhythm, this flow, that worked so perfectly as he rolled his body against the two, hands in the air and smile plastered across his face. lando desperately prayed that he could tear his gaze away and for gods sake STOP staring at the part of him where his shirt would ride up slightly exposing his pale skin when he stretched out even a little bit. he sipped at his drink.

just try ignore him, you’ve done a great job of distancing yourself, just keep it together lando, keep it together…but damn does that boy have some fine abs and a lovely smile and small moles that could be traced like constellations across his skin. he’s perfect.

lando huffed and stood up, tossing the rest of his drink back and deciding that he wasn’t drunk enough yet. he was too conscious to actually listen to the thoughts in his head at the moment and needed to just stop feeling for even five measly minutes. he approached the bar where charles was throwing back two shots and ordered one for himself as well.

“jesus charles, end of the world coming?”

“ah! lando! it’s summer break, i am drunk, here a shot mon ami, drink!”

lando found himself with two shots of who knows what top shelf liquor in front of him, contemplating his choices. he didn’t want to be too badly incapacitated, he wasn’t sure how he would get home after this and should probably formulate a plan before getting incredibly fucked up. charles noticed his apprehension and pat him on the back.

“lando what troubles you?” charles asked, the brit huffed.

“oscar fucking piastri actually.”

“pardon? oscar? he’s like the nicest person i have ever met, what has he done?”

“nothing, nothing intentionally that is, he just-“

“oh my god you like him!” charles cut him off, lando gripped his hand firmly around the shot glass.

“shut up! don’t say it so loud charles!”

“over the music? mon ami, he’s not going to hear. why are you sitting here with me and not dance with him, you know you could be looking at him up close, no?”

“no i know, i just can’t be that close to him.”

he drives me crazy.

“but you like him. so be with him!”

“i can’t do that for several reasons, charles, it would fuck up our friendship, ruin our team dynamic, what if he doesn’t feel the same way, fucks sake i don’t know if he’s even gay!”

“you don’t know if he’s gay? oh lando please.”

“no, i’m sure an incredibly talented, well rounded, polite, smart young man like oscar isn’t gonna fancy his racing team mate.”

“well, i hate to freak you out or anything, but, he’s totally staring directly at us.”

shot.

———

stop STARING AT HIM OSCAR! you’re gonna freak him out or something look anywhere but at him.

oscar quite literally could not peel his eyes away from the older mclaren driver sat at the bar with charles leclerc, if he looked away, he feared it would be the last time he’d ever see him. even though stupid perfect lando and his stupid perfect hazel green eyes were constantly in the back of oscar’s mind, eating away at his thoughts and sanity. he had gone to dance with george and alex, hoping that it might take his mind off of lando and how he looked somewhat miserable at the bar. he soon realized that the two taller men were more invested in one another than they were with oscar who felt like he was alone in the club. almost everyone had a partner there with them or were dancing with some girl who sweet talked her way into the private room where the annual summer break kick off was happening. oscar noticed in that second that charles was smirking, not at lando but directly at him and this was enough for him to spin on his heel and hightail it for a booth. he sat alone, drinking, smelling some kind of substance that no one should have and thinking of lando fucking norris like it was a full time gig.

assume he’s not gay oscar. just assume he’s not gay so he can’t possibly even be into you. but do keep in mind that hot crochet button down he’s wearing would look much better on the floor.

oscar shuddered and tossed down more of his drink, standing up again to go get another when another body pressed itself against his. he turned to see charles who was still smirking and holding two shots. this can’t be good.

“oscarrrrrr piastrriiiiii, comment vas-tu?” he slurred as he set the shots down on the table, sliding one towards oscar whose face was paler and redder, knowing that the person who caught him staring was confronting him about it first hand.

“uh, great yeah, thanks charles, yourself?”

“very drunk, mon ami, very drunk, have you spoken to lando tonight?”

oscar felt even more pale and his cheeks were burning red. did charles know? how would he know?

just play it cool.

“no, erm, he seemed like he was pretty invested with you, so i just kind of gave him space, besides he’s probably annoyed of me because he’s constantly forced to be around me.”

that shot is looking like a mighty potent truth serum, mate, careful how you play this out. charles is on a mission.

“i wouldn’t say annoyed at all mon ami, in fact you should go talk to him.” charles is pushing the shot closer and smirking deeper, oscar wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable but couldn’t read what this could be about.

“i dunno charles, i don’t want to bother him.”

no i reckon you should mate.

shut up. oscar slides his fingers around the shot glass. whatever liquid is in it will either give him courage, or make him far dizzier and stupider than he already feels.

“what’s the harm? come on, i’ll take you over.”

“no! charles, i really have reservations about this mate. what if like, he doesn’t…”

“oscar. why would i have stumbled my sexy ass over here if i didn’t know for sure?”

“mate, i dunno, i really don’t think lando fancies me like that.”

“well then go hang out with your teammate, come, lets dance.”

before oscar even has time to think, he tosses the shot back, shaking his head at the fiery liquid and is pulled out of the booth. right as the dj plays smooth operator, carlos sainz from somewhere in the room shouts an angry fuck while laughter erupts around him. his vision is slightly blurred as he is pulled through the crowd, he sees george and alex entangled with one another, pierre and kika snogging and daniel, max, yuki and zhou egging on lance and logan who were shotgunning beers.

madness. this is utter chaos, what the fuck why are we literal children-lando!

lando is leaned against the bar, smiling at the shot gun race when oscar is pulled to his side. oscar looks down and away from lando, attempting to hide the red blush on his face and casually shoving his hands in his pockets.

“fancy seeing you here.” lando says over the music.

“yeah, fancy indeed.” oscar replies.

just talk to him, lando!

oscar, quite literally say anything!

god he looks so nervous.

god he’s so perfect, i can’t tell him, he won’t, what if he doesn’t I CAN’T MESS THINGS UP!

“sorry if i’m reading this wrong but, are you okay?” lando says, trying to look for oscar’s eyes which are anywhere but locked on his. oscar turns flashes a smile and looks down again.

“yeah, just, uh, it’s really loud in here and i think there was malicious intent towards carlos, you know, smooth operator.” oscar chuckles, glancing slightly more towards lando, “and i’ve had a lot to drink. a lot. i did shots with george and lewis earlier.”

you’re drunk oscar, good luck rest is on you mate.

DANCE WITH HIM!

lando leans himself against oscar a bit and links his pinky with the younger driver’s. oscar freezes at the touch, scared of letting himself melt into it. lando leans closer. every part of oscar is telling him this isn’t real and that he’s just super fucked up, he’s had a lot to drink and there was definitely weed somewhere in the room leaving a cloudy haze about them. oscar desperately wanted to let himself relax into lando’s touch, why was he struggling this badly even when intoxicated beyond consciousness, he was still anxious to his core about this being a mirage.

lando was barely in control of his own, maybe it was due to the amount of time he had spent internalizing his feelings for oscar and the general want to be near him that drove him, but maybe it was the fact that charles (even when piss drunk) had a keen sense of instinct, hell he had set up george and alex who had been pining after each other for years, maybe that was similar to what was happening here.

“you boys enjoy yourselves!” charles said as he waltzed away, smiling like an idiot and blowing a kiss back to them. the mclaren drivers laugh and for the first time that night, meet eye to eye.

“i assume he pumped you full of whatever liquor he gave me?” lando asked expectantly to a slightly swaying oscar. oscar nodded a bit rougher than he meant to, fuck he was drunk. “you alright, piastri? you would have a long fall to the floor if you fell.”

“just, hold me up then.” oscar breathed deep, “what did he tell you?”

“you were staring, oscar.”

“oh, i’m sorry, you’re just very gorgeous in the lighting and i like looking at pretty things.”

“what did charles tell you?”

“that you might fancy me, that you might not, i’m not great with words, sorry.”

“do you fancy me, oscar?”

oscar bit his lip, afraid of saying the wrong thing, but letting the liquid courage do the talking for him. he nodded his head instead, feeling very heavy. lando moved closer and placed a stabilizing hand on oscar’s slightly exposed hip, the aussie melted into the touch, gently placing a hand on lando’s shoulder. lando put his other hand on his other hip and pulled him closer. oscsr relaxed.

“oscar, i’ve felt the same way for a long while now. i just didn’t know how to tell you.” lando sighed, close enough that he could smell oscar’s cologne which was somewhere between palo santo and cedarwood as well as the faint hint of alcohol on his breath. oscar was locked on lando, holding onto his shoulders for stability and still nibbling on his bottom lip. he was sure his brain was processing this all wrong, or lando was just as drunk as he was and talking out of his ass, but the twinkle in lando’s eye had honesty and vulnerability written all over them, a safe space hidden behind the rough, stoic exterior of being an f1 driver. this was a side of lando that oscar had only seen a handful of times, a softer, yet wilder side of his personality which screamed him more than his media face. the aussie moved his hands from lando’s shoulders to his face and traded his lip bite for a smile.

“i’m gonna kiss you, lando.” oscar stated, leaning in and pressing his lips on lando’s. lando felt his heart leap out of his chest as he held oscar closer, letting the fact that all of his friends are watching them drift away with the only focus being how soft oscar’s lips were against his. there were a few cheeky whoops which in turn made lando stick up a middle finger and smile against oscar. as soon as they parted, fucking leclerc was there again, a shoulder on each man’s shoulder and smiling the most shit eating grin they’d ever seen.

“do you know what i call that boys? smoooooooth operatorrrrrrrr.”

#charles leclerc #landoscar #lando norris #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 imagine #oscar piastri #mclaren

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hannahssimblr · 9 months ago

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I’m pretty sure I’ll throw up, it’s not a matter of if, but when. I sit shivering and grey faced in the boys changing room at nine o’clock, Friday morning and wish I was dead. Actually, I’ve wished I was dead rather consistently for the duration of the morning, from the moment I woke up at seven after maybe two hours of sleep, while preparing my sister’s breakfast, while showering, dressing myself in my horrible uniform and for the whole seafront walk to the school gates, where I kept imagining cars swerving over the cycle path and mercifully mowing me down.

“Jude, man, what time you get home at last night?” Fitzy is in my ear, “I’m so hungover, man, my head is bloody pounding.”

“Dunno,” I reply, “Not long after you I’d say,” through the aura of my vicious migraine I peer at my phone screen where one new message notification blinks at me.

Jude, darling. Just thinking of you after our call. I hope you’re doing okay. I know I shouldn’t be worried but if you want to talk again tomorrow I am available. Lots of love & miss you every day. xoxox Maureen.

Jesus Christ. Did I call Aunt Maureen last night? I check my call log to see that indeed, I made a long distance call to New Mexico at four in the morning. A seven minute call. A groan of despair escapes me. I have no recollection. What did I say to her? Something unhinged enough to warrant this anxious text message, whatever it was. I bet I was an incoherent, embarrassing mess.

Sorry Maureen, it’s all good. I was just a bit homesick. We should catch up properly at the weekend if you’re free. No need to worry. X J

It’s a cruel thing, P.E first thing on a Friday morning, but Mr. Doherty, a likely sadist, seems to love it. This is the same man who scheduled an African drumming workshop the day after our junior cert results came out, knowing full well what he would be inflicting upon a classroom full of hungover sixteen year olds.

He’s got a basketball in his hands today, bouncing it around the gym floor with his legs spread out about a metre apart. I don’t know why he stands like that, though I suspect perhaps it's a part of his lifelong quest to become the world's most intimidating man and take up the maximum amount of space possible. I made up a story about seeing him on a public bus seat with his legs at a 180 degree angle once, and I still hear it repeated sometimes as though it's fact.

He’s going on about teams, explaining something involving those smelly polyester bibs that nobody has washed since 1972, but I am distracted by the sunlight from the windows edging the ceiling and the way that is so unmanageably bright. Doherty pulls the first of the neon bibs out of the bucket and the sight of it, the colour, the sweat stains around the armpits, makes my stomach lurch.

“Bib, Turner,” he barks as he throws it at me and I catch it, along with a whiff of stale sweat and Jurassic era skin cells and I drop it right onto the floor, guts churning as I race to the toilets and retch and puke, fallen to my knees inside the filthy stall until there’s nothing left inside me.

“Classic Jude,” someone is saying when they all filter into the changing rooms afterwards while I still clutch the bowl. I must be here forty minutes now. “Always throwing up.”

“Y’alright?” Someone else calls out, and I groan. “Well Doherty wants you when you’re done. He’s waiting in the gym.”

“Fuck sake,” I fist my hair in my hands and considering knocking myself out and getting the nurse to send me home.

It’s another few minutes until I trust myself to exit the bathroom, and then, like a shell of a boy, I trudge out to the gym on rubber legs to where Doherty waits beneath a basketball hoop.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while,” He begins, his voice echoing through the rafters.

“Uh huh,”

“It’s Friday. Jude. It’s a school day. How is it that you think you can show up to class in this state?”

“Dunno, sir.”

“I know that you’re a smart boy, right? You know better than this. So when you’re at school, that means you come prepared, well rested, homework done, and in a decent, respectable state, do you understand? You can’t be off doing whatever you like with your evenings, especially if you’re going to show up to my class like this. I shouldn’t even have to explain this to you.”

“Yes sir.”

“This is an insult to me, do you hear what I’m saying? You think because it’s P.E on Friday that you can rip the piss? That you don’t have to take it as seriously as other classes?”

“No, Sir.”

“You’re the same at my Rugby practises too these days, you’ve gone all soft and unfit on me. Is this why? Are you out galavanting every night of the week?”

I hesitate, “Some.”

“Is the boom back already? Sex drugs and rock n roll and whatnot.”

“I dunno what any of those things are.”

“Oh, give me a bloody break. You think I was born yesterday? I could smell your type a mile away, and this is my last straw. I want to see you in detention today from four to five.”

I leap to attention, “Wait, no, sir, I can’t do detention.”

“Seriously, Turner? Are you joking me right now?” “Yes, no, honestly sir. I have an agreement with the school. I don’t have to do detention on Fridays, ask the vice principal, I have-”

“Well that’s the biggest load of bollox I ever heard, do you know that? Special agreement,” he scoffs, “Yeah, pull the other one.”

“I’ll do it Monday, I promise, I just can’t tonight.”

“You’re heading out again, is it? More partying? More drinking and acting the mick? I don’t think so. Detention at four.”

“But sir, I-”

“Don’t talk to me. Decision is final, and if you’re not there, consider yourself suspended.”

I pace the yard at lunchtime waiting for a call to connect.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Trisha, hi, it’s Jude Turner, um, Ivy’s brother?”

“Oh Jude, sweetheart, how are you keeping?”

“Good, yeah, uh, just wondering, are you picking her up from school today?”

“As usual… unless something has changed? She and Ella were planning to work on some sort of group project for school, but if you want to come and get her earlier…”

“No, this is about her piano lesson.”

“Yes, I expect I’ll drop her off at four as I always do…”

“Right, yes, is there any chance that maybe you could collect her too? Just for this week.”

She hisses through her teeth, “Ahh, well you know that we have swimming lessons Fridays at five, we’ll have to be straight on the road… is there going to be a problem collecting her?”

“Um, no, just school stuff, there’s a chance I’ll be delayed.”

“What about your mum, sweetie?”

“She works until six usually,” there’s dead air on the line and I quickly babble on to fill the silence, “But I’m sure if I tell her what’s happening she’ll leave early, never mind anyway Trisha, I just thought I’d ask.”

“Alright! Sorry about that, love, I’m sure your mum will get it sorted.”

“Yeah. Same. Bye,” I put my phone back into my trouser pocket. No point even trying mom’s phone. She never answers and if she did she wouldn’t help.

The bell rings for the end of lunch.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #tw: vomit #tw: alcohol #tw: drugs #tw: suicidal ideation

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treecakes · 8 months ago

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do you remember what you thought about tanuma when he was first introduced? what do you like most about him? i could read your thoughts on tanuma all day <3

TANUMA MY FRIEND TANUMA!!!! actually it’s funny on my first watch of the show i didn’t actually pay much attention to him like i did enjoy his character and thought he was fun but i didn’t really think much about him. it wasn’t until i rewatched the show that i really started to go insane. tanuma follows some general patterns for characters i like (i am legally obligated to not list these because it would be too easy to psychoanalyze me to hell and back) so it was only a matter of time before i became tanuma’s #1 fan 😭 but i really love how much he cares. specifically about natsume but just in general he’s thoughtful and he is good at reading others and i like him as a relative gauge in reading a situation. but i like that this only extends as far as him Not being directly involved because as soon as he considers how others perceive him all of his intuition goes out the window.

also the fish pond metaphor GOT ME. it did. it’s one of the first things that grasped me when i read the manga and i noticed that the anime changed this detail. i like the uncertainty it poses for his character when he doesn’t know what colour the fish are. it’s so central to him and it makes no sense that the anime changed this. his arc will not be over until he forces himself to ask. which is the primary reason why i love the manga the most. just this detail in particular. i put tanuma first in my manga literary analysis 😭

also also tanuma is my migraine bestie i’m always shaking his hand on this. he’s the migraine rep i’ve always wanted and it’s fun. but i have opinions. like i don’t enjoy the magnet comparison where natsume is like a magnet and tanuma’s migraines are less frequent because he absorbed some of natsume’s power. i think it’s a little. um. what’s the word. cheap (?) to kind of just negate that whole aspect of his character in favour of oh he’s Getting Better. because of natsume, which i guess that’s supposed to be like. romantic (connotations. but it’s the best word) but i wish he could see his worth as he is without him having to overcome his physical limitations. which i don’t think midorikawa will completely have him get over it but still. it’s just that it exists At All. lol.

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 1 year ago

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I made myself sad with my silly little Hunger Games AU for Descendants and now it’s your problem.

Staring Cruella and Ivy de Vil.

I’m gonna continue this. I hope.

Cruella wakes up with an already raging migraine: Her head feels like it is enclosed in rhythmically tightening iron maiden mask. Huh, Iron maiden. Cruella is fairly sure she designed an outfit based on that, once.

And if she didn’t, she really should have.

Capitol would have loved that, before they figured out what she actually wanted to say. If they ever did.

She doesn’t smirk at that thought.

She considers staying in her bed for today, forever and ever. That looks fun, doesn’t it? Cruella de Vil, Hunger Games Victor and fashion icon, reduced to a rag doll incapable of leaving her own bed. She laughs, harsh and loud, and gets up from the bloody bed.

Her bathroom is suspiciously well stocked: New makeup products and hair care and skin masks, even the lipsticks she broke apart in affect are replaced. Someone cleaned up her mirror as well. Fucking mirror.

Cruella puts on her favourite shade of lipstick and then a damning thought crosses her mind: „Carlos, baby,“ she calls out, hoping that her baby boy is home and hears her, „Can you tell mommy what day it is?“

As she waits for answer, she anxiously brushes through her hair, all tangled up. She makes sure the strokes hurt, and soon, she can barely see through her tears. That’s good–

The floors of her Victor House creak as her little son comes near, led by the hand by his big cousin Ivy. Both dolled up in her signature colours, decided decades ago and miles away. She can’t stand it, not again.

„No no no no no, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, DON’T TELL ME, GO AWAY–––“

(She made her little boy cry)

Only after taking Carlos to a different room, Ivy interrupts her desperate litany with quivering voice: „It is the Reaping day, Auntie.“

Cruella presses her nails into her palms, and tries to smile for her niece: „Your lips are a bit blue, Ivy, darling. Do you want some of my lipstick?“

„Yes, I’d like that, Auntie.“

So Cruella wills her hands to stop shaking for just a little moment and holds Ivy’s chin in place, painting her lips for her. Sure contours and bold colours– „Just like you, my dear.“

„Thank you, Auntie.“

Ivy’s hands are cold as the death herself, and Cruella is sure, so are hers.

It is time to go. Put on your dress, your make-up and your smile, and go.

They might as well have been playing funeral rites for the short walk from Victor’s Village to the square, as far as Cruella is concerned.

Then, Ivy has to go. None of them says good bye – It feels so final, that. Cruella wants to pretend for another moment.

At least her Carlos is not of reaping age yet. How old is he? She’d ask, but her face feels frozen. She’s not sure she can speak.

Any sound, and the world shatters – there is no sound at all, it seems. Just thousands upon thousands of District Three children holding their breaths and each others hands. Cruella presses her son closer to her and doesn’t look for Ivy in the crowd.

(It wouldn’t be hard to find her, bold red and blinding white and damning black. It wouldn‘t be hard at all.)

(She must look like Cruella’s mirror.)

Heels click across the podium, and each step drives a hot nail through Cruella’s temples.

If she wanted, she could recite each word with the hostess. She wishes she could forget them instead.

„Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds ever be in your favour!“ Cruella’s cheeks hurt when she forces herself to smile and recite the eulogy with the hostess.

(If she had not been so damn clever and cunning – so full of herself and of will to live – If she hadn’t spoken, if she could just accept her fate and her place in the world – if she hadn’t tried to change it –I F SHE JUST DIED LIKE THEY WANTED HER TO)

She isn’t surprised when the hostess reads Ivy’s name.

It was always going to happen, wasn’t it?

Ever since she showed Capitol what they are, and refused to stop. She held the mirror until it shattered and when it cut her hand bloody. Literally and figuratively. She screamed, with her voice, and with her art. She screamed until her brother died, and then some more.

She had sentenced her family to die a long time ago.

She catches Ivy’s eyes: The girl walks calmly, her head held high. No sign of trembling from the morning, and cold, cold eyes. She can see something brewing behind them, little clockwork components turning and falling into place.

Click. Click. CLICK.

Cruella de Vil stands up and starts applauding her niece, their perfectly painted lips in joyless smiles. And if that doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.

#disney descendants #hunger games au #cruella de vil #ivy de vil

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blinditcms · 2 years ago

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GRAHAM LAWRENCE on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 43 YEAR OLD looks like MATTHEW GOODE, but i don’t really see it. while the AUTHOR/BUSINESS OWNER is known for being LOYAL my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be INSECURE i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song LOUDER THAN WORDS from TICK TICK... BOOM

BASIC INFORMATION:

name: graham edward lawrence. nicknames: gram. pronouns: he/him. gender: cis man. age: forty-three. date of birth: january 16th, ‘80. place of birth: henley-on-thames, oxfordshire, uk. astrological sign: capricorn. orientation: bicurious.

APPEARANCE:

height: six foot two. build: tall and slender, strong rower-type physique. hair colour: dark brown. eye colour: green. wardrobe style: according to his son, he has a kind of cosy cottagecore or professorcore chique going on. he doesn’t really know what that means. tattoos: none. piercings: none.

HEALTH:

physical ailments: type 1 diabetes, chronic migraines. mental ailments: struggles from imposter syndrome. alcohol use: socially. drug use: nothing except for prescription medicine. addictions: has a bad smoking habit, but only when stressed.

PERSONALITY:

positive traits: loyal, patient, collected. negative traits: insecure, easily overwhelmed, forgiving. mbti: INFJ-A

ACTIVITIES & SKILLS:

skills: writing, cooking. weaknesses: any kind of ball sports, logic puzzles. languages spoken: english, french, spanish.

CAREER DETAILS:

2001: finishes his bachelor’s degree at oxford university and starts his graduate programme in literature, linguistics and languages at princeton university. also meets dominique kennedy and immediately hit it off. suddenly became a part of the “kicking it with the kennedy’s” cast simply by dating dominique and is thrust into the celebrity life. 2002: continued studying and working at princeton as well as starring on the popular tv programme, and soon marries his sweetheart dominique. 2003: the divorce is all over the papers and the tv and he is hounded by the press. he becomes somewhat of an ‘elligible bachelor’, but tries to step away from the spotlight to work on his writing. 2005: publishes his first science-fiction novel. there is quite a bit of hate about his actual quality of writing, but most critics are shut up when he is nominated for the hugo awards and wins. he continues writing the series. 2008: the third book of his bestselling science-fiction series is published and later in the year, their son reid is born. they agree on shared custody and since then, his writing slows down. 2010: reid is staying with graham a lot more now, and his bookwriting comes to a bit of a halt. he manages to wrap up the science fiction series and sell it’s film rights before taking a step back. 2011: graham starts his own business of copywriting and editing for other authors, while working on some small projects, but not publishing anything himself. 2019-now: now reid is 11, he allows himself to go back to his own writing and try to publish again. he is quickly picked up by a new agent and publishes five books in quick succession, of which two standalones and one prequel to his original series, and two entries to a new epic fantasy series, which is receives incredibly well and is currently in a bidding war for film.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

sister: graham came from a wealthy upper-class family in the uk and has one younger sister (approx. 3 years younger). (best) friends: graham splits his time between his home in england during the school holiday periods/when reid is with his mother and his home in los angeles, so he would have friends from either side of the pond. ex-lovers: graham has dated somewhat - not an awful lot, and never anything too serious. he’s always made sure to keep it out of the press as well.

#* ☆ graham lawrence. | muse.

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astralazuli · 7 months ago

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So I just learned from a UQuiz that apparently not everyone sees the world through a transparent sheet of technicoloured sand.

& that it’s like. A whole ass diagnosable rare condition if you do.

& that said condition also causes a lot of other symptoms that I had assumed were normal at the degree I experience them?

Like the bright skittering lights on bright light surfaces or the sky aren’t supposed to be beyond counting?

& not being able to see properly in the dark because everything is bright coloured splotches everywhere…

Also I’m inferring from what I’m reading that it… isn’t supposed to be hard to tell if you have a migraine aura or not???

‘Cause most people don’t just have flashy bright colours everywhere all the time.

Like it’s not a progressive thing & I’ve had it all my life, so it’s probs not a big deal or anything.

& I’m gonna tell my neurologist at my next appointment.

But I am seriously reeling from the fact that this is actually not the common experience.

#I… I’m 33.#I have seen this way literally as long as I can remember.#& I genuinely assumed it was standard #so no one talked about it????#Like we’re all just ignoring the millions of brightly coloured sparkles everywhere.#Right???#Also apparently seeing colours when you close your eyes in the dark #is also not the common experience???#I’m sorry guys this is kinda fucking me up???#What do you MEAN most other people don’t experience the level of visual effects as I do???#What do you mean other people don’t have issues seeing in the dark #because the sparkles blur everything????#stardust rambles #Relatedly apparently the normal amount of high pitched ringing to hear at all times is none???#I GENUINELY THOUGHT WE JUST WERE ALL IGNORING THESE SENSORY EXPERIENCES AT ALL TIMES.#apparently just me & <10% of the population….#fucking wild…#Like I know it’s not super uncommon but that’s definitely not the average experience that I am having

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adventures-of-the-creeping-bam · 1 year ago

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NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM, BOOK THREE: WARMER - CHAPTER 23

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 3 Chapter 1 is here …

MPORTANT: Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: SHAYLINE

“How’s that, my Lady? Is that better?” Krakka wonders after a several minutes of half-whispered prayer, stood off at the side of the couch with his hands laid on either side of Lady Naru’s head. When he came in before she was still languishing, looking a touch haggard after having drained a full bottle of the Temple’s rather strong wine, which, I think, didn’t really do the job for her on its own. When she first settled there after porting Driver 8 back she had what was clearly the mother of all migraines, and it was a miracle she even made it to the couch instead of dropping right on the floor, the strength was clearly leaching right out of her. Even getting falling down drunk didn’t seem to take the edge off again.

So Krakka volunteered to help, despite the fact that he was clearly already somewhat tapped from just barely managing to keep Thel from dying before we could get her back here. I suspect if she’d been feeling a little better she probably would have waved him off and just suffered through it, she seems just the selfless type to brave the hardship on her own, but instead she barely protested before giving in and letting him. He’s been at it for almost twenty straight minutes now, it feels like, but it seems to be doing the trick. The colour, such as it ever was, has returned to her cheeks, while the dark circles that were forming around her eyes have pretty much faded again, and she looks much more relaxed again.

After a thoughtful moment she actually purrs a little bit, shifting her position a little bit as she works her shoulders a little higher up out of a nearly prone position, and opens her eyes again, just a crack. “Oh … goodness, yes. That is .. much better. Thank you, Master Krakka. You are a godsend. Quite literally. Please thank your goddess for me.”

“You’re welcome, of course, my Lady. My Lady wants nothing but the best for all of us and … honestly, we need all the help we can get right now.” He sighs as he finally removes his fingers from where they’ve been gently pressing into her temples, stepping back now to retrieve Bloodmoon from where he left it standing up to one side. “And Kesla did request that I get you back on your feet, so …”

“Ah …” Lady Naru somewhat sighs the word as she takes a moment to stretch herself where she lies, then slowly sits up before she swivels her legs off the cushions so she can plant her feet on the floor again. “You’re right, of course. Things are …” Her brow creases a little, which takes me somewhat by surprise, actually, and as she straightens up in her seat her expression darkens considerably. She clears her throat, and it sounds surprisingly urgent, which also surprises me. Suddenly she looks … genuinely shaken, actually. “Complicated.”

When she looks my way and our eyes meet I can see it in them – she’s worried. It’s incredibly subtle, I could almost miss it, but I think I was looking for it anyway. This whole time we’ve known her, even though it’s been less than a day, she’s seemed so implacable, unshakeable, but I realise now I saw it before as well – when we were first back together after the fight, and Krakka was tending to Thel, when I passed on what he’d told me to the others, or at least those who didn’t know already, that Gael is … well, we don’t know, which is so much worse. Yes, I did, I saw it then too. Again it was very subtle, but the news hit her hard too.

For my part, until we started porting back here in fits and starts I was just pacing back and forth with my head spinning, full of rattled, fretful thoughts, rubbing and brushing at my mail trying to work the dirt off but just making my gloves messy instead. At least when we got back I realised I had something I could do, so I just got to it immediately, although in hindsight I imagine to some it might have looked like I was going a little spare in my own way. I just started stripping away my armour, waving Tulen off when she offered to help me, Art too, preferring to deal with this myself.

To begin with I was a little overly forceful with it, I had to stop myself and take a moment to steady myself, my hands were shaking badly, but once I had the tremors under control along with my nerves I was able to take a deep breath and focus with greater care on the task itself. Once I’d unbuckled my belts and harnesses and stripped away my armour I snatched some of the cushions and made a little nest for myself on the floor, settling down in my snug leather and linen under-armour and breaking out my kit to set about cleaning my mail. After a few more minutes just focusing on the task at hand I was almost able to forget, at least for a time.

Seeing Lady Naru’s reaction now, though, just brings it all flooding back, and I can’t help it, I just tense up. Since I’d finally finished with my armour and had instead taken up my sword, intent on inspecting the blade for any damage from my fight with that half-orc, I just wind up gripping the leather of the scabbard and the hilt overly tight, making both creak loudly. There’s no way either of them could have missed it.

Clenching my teeth, I deflect by just drawing the sword as intended, making as little fuss as I can about it as I hold it out lengthwise and look down the line of the blade, turning it over to inspect both sides one after the other. Well I’ll be … much as I expected, there’s nothing, not so much as a nick or a blemish, the blade as pristine as it was before. I can’t help frowning a little, again perturbed by the fact that I still don’t have to actually tend to this weapon, and carefully slide it back home in the sheath.

When I look up I find them both watching me, and while Krakka’s mostly just frowning, a little thrown himself, perhaps, Lady Naru still just looks sad. I think she’s caught my underlying mood as much as I have hers. I clench my jaw again, I can’t help it.

I’m about to speak when a small figure wanders through the door into our midst, and I close my mouth immediately as Brung heads straight to what’s starting to become his preferred spot in front of the fire. He doesn’t say a word, simply dropping onto his backside on the rug directly in front of the hearth, and crosses his legs while shrugging out of his cloak before starting to work himself out of the harness strapping his shortsword to his back. He doesn’t look any different than he did when we first got back, no more expressive in fact than when I first met him, but he still seems … I don’t know, somehow I can just tell that he’s feeling particularly dejected now.

Shooting a look to the others, I find that Lady Naru’s watching him as well, but she seems to sense my attention almost immediately and she looks up, and I can see the hurt still buried in them. She’s reading him as well as I am, clearly. Perhaps better, I’d imagine she’s a far better judge of character than I am, even with a goblin. Krakka’s just frowning as he cautiously starts navigating his way round all the pieces of freshly cleaned armour I’ve got laid out on the floor in front of me, toting Bloodmoon as carefully as he can as he goes.

Finally I let out a particularly quiet, low sigh and turn back to the newcomer. “Brung … are you … um … how are you doing there?”

Finally wresting the sword loose, he shrugs out of the straps and starts wrapping them up around the sheathed weapon, and I see his jaw work for a moment, very subtly, before he just hugs the whole thing to him. Cradling it much like I’ve seen Krakka treat his hammer, I realise. Finally he looks up, fixing me with his cold, unreadable yellow eyes, but takes a long time answering, likely considering his words now. “Kicked me out.”

“Who did?” I wonder after a confused moment, blinking a little as I try to work out what he means.

“Healers. Infirmary. Nothing more to do. They said. Not sure, myself.”

My skin goes cold immediately, my heart starting to beat faster as I shoot another look at the others, finding Krakka’s now on the far side of my spread armour now and preparing to take up the chair closest to Brung as he lets Bloodmoon thump down next to it. “Nothing … but … are they –”

“Alive.” He nods, a simple, clipped gesture, still no change in his expression. “Both. Thel … very sick. But Du … sleeping. Recovering, they say.”

Lady Naru lets her breath go in a heavy sigh, and I see her actually deflating now, dropping back in her seat now as she reaches up and brushes her fingers back through her hair in a surprisingly fretful gesture, I really. “Thank the gods … after what happened …”

“Did they say how bad her condition is?” Krakka’s frowning deep, sitting now but still craning forward, watching the goblin closely. “Is she out of the woods at last, or is there still danger?”

“Not dying anymore.” He shrugs, and again it seems so non-committal. “Get better, but long wait. Very sick.”

“But they’re getting better, at least.” I‘m able to relax at last too, letting myself ease back and just languishing for a moment or two now I can finally breathe again. Sort of. “It’s … at least there’s some good news.”

“Master Foxtail.” He’s still watching me with that same cool intensity. “Yes?”

Sighing again, I sit up and set my sword aside, lacing my fingers together now as I lean forward. Regarding the armour in front of me now, anything to keep me from thinking about it too much, but it doesn’t work. “Damn it … yes. Gael. I’m … we’re all worried about them.”

“Get them back.” He says it as matter-of-fact as everything else, so I can’t tell if it’s a statement of certainty or just hopeful conviction.

“Fuck …” I wince as soon as the word’s out, catching my voice breaking just a little as I say it, my throat suddenly thickening again, and I have to take a deep breath to try and steady myself as I grip my hands tighter. “I … I truly hope so.”

For a long moment the room is silent, no-one daring to say anything, and when I look up I see Lady Naru’s not even watching Brung any more, she’s simply looking into the fire, and her face is growing rather dark. Then I hear a low, slow grinding of something that’s not quite metal on stone from the back of the room, and when I look up Driver 8 finally seems to be stirring again. I still can’t tell where he’s looking, but I find my attention going straight to the entrance all the same. As if guided by instinct.

A few beats later Kesla walks into the room, Tulen trailing close behind her. Darwyn appears soon after, which takes me by surprise, given what little I learned from Krakka I was half expecting her to come back in chains, if she same back at all, but instead she simply breaks through past them and goes towards the back of the room. She barely pauses to acknowledge Big Man before settling into a chair as far away from the rest of us as she can get. She immediately draws her legs up to her chest in front of her, and wraps her arms around them to hunch into herself as much as she can until all I can make out of her face is just her eyes peering out at us over her knees. She looks somewhat haunted, I realise, but mostly just tired.

Looking up at Kesla, I’m about to ask what that’s all about when Art finally walks in, and the way he wanders around past the hearth before finally taking the other end of the couch from Lady Naru seems like he’s not really entirely with us. His expression is a whole lot more complex than the halfling’s I notice – he’s definitely tired too, but not at all haunted, more just … gods, I’m not really sure what that look on his face is, actually. Wonderstruck, perhaps, but not exactly … but clearly something decidedly life-altering just happened to him.

Blinking in confusion again, I look back up at Kesla. “What … where did you –”

“I take it this means that Darwyn is off the hook, then?” Krakka ponders, sitting back now as he finally hefts Bloodmoon up off the floor so he can start cradling it like he always does when he’s at rest. He turns to look up at Kesla now, cocking his head so he can watch her particularly closely.

For a moment she doesn’t answer, instead shooting a glance at Tulen, who just looks away almost immediately and starts unbuckling her swordbelt as she starts picking her way around my gear so she can sit down next to me. Finally our nominal leader just lets a heavy sigh go and folds her arms as she looks down at Art. “Oh yeah. I’d say she’s got a real compelling argument.”

That just makes me frown deeper as I regard her for a long moment, then turn to Art, who’s still just sitting there, looking somewhat stunned and more than a little lost, but not in an unhappy way. Which is a distinct improvement on the last time I saw him, I’ll admit, I know he’s as worried about Gael as I am, but I’m not really sure this is actually better. “Compelling? Really? How so?”

“I’m a da.”

“Well that’s lovely … what?” For a moment I just blank, I can’t help it, the news is just so thoroughly incongruous I have no means to make sense of it. Finally I blink and look at Kesla again, who’s dipping her chin as she lets out another heavy sigh. “Um … yeah, I mean … what?”

“Oh for …” Kesla releases her arms and takes a few steps one way before swinging back round and then just standing in place for a long beat. Finally she takes a deep breath and lets it go, clearly steadying herself, and when she looks back again she seems quite serene, actually. “It’s true, Art’s a father. He and Darwyn got a kid, she lives in the Drumhalt with an old friend o’ theirs, cuz she don’t want anybody at the Guild to know ‘bout her. ‘Cepts Cobb. He’s been spending last five years since she was born keeping Darwyn’s secret.”

That just makes my frown deepen as I look at Art again, then turn to crane back towards the halfling, who looks my way too after a moment once she realises I’m not going to ignore her after all. “I don’t understand, why not –”

“They’re both children of the Guild.” Lady Naru sighs as she sits up straighter, seeming more ordered now as she starts to stuffily pick at her robes, smoothing away at individual creases and smudges in the fine materials. “In their way. Art and Darwyn were both raised as foundlings by the Guild, and to them it is as much family as what you have built for yourselves, amongst your intriguing little unit. But the Guild is much more of an institution, with very particular rules and codes of conduct. There are some more traditional souls among them who might feel they have claim to this child as much as her parents.”

“I won’t have her brought up like Art was.” Darwyn mutters, but it’s loud enough for us to pick up on without any trouble, and the room has strong enough acoustics to help. “He may be a fucking moron, but he’s right about some things. No child should be raised the way we were. I won’t let that bastard Yevnik get his claws into her, I want something better for her. So she’s staying with Toyah, and she gets to be whatever she wants to be when she grows up.” Her eyes finally leave mine, shifting to look at Art again. “Anything but a killer.”

Well, I can certainly understand her feelings there. Memories are already flooding back to me of the wedge that was driven between my parents, the reason my own father left my mother in the Reaches when I was little more than a child myself, why I’ve not seen him since. Why I still feel that aching loss, the gaping hole in my life every single day. Da didn’t want me to become a thief and killer like my mother was turning me into, simply by teaching me everything she had been taught when she had been brought up. He wanted so much more for me, and it’s taken me far too long to finally follow the star he wanted me to. It’s why I’m here now. Darwyn wants the same thing for her child, and she’s right to.

But then … oh hell. I turn to look at Art again, and I can see he’s starting to come back to himself, and he doesn’t look happy, not anymore. I lean towards him now, trying to speak as gently as I can to him. “Art, I … I’m sorry –”

“You should’ve told me.”

Shit … he’s going there. He’s not even looking at me, instead glaring right past me towards Darwyn, and when I turn back to her again she’s looking up a little more, her eyes wide under the curtain of her darkly fiery hair. Still so haunted, but there’s real pain now too, and a little angry, maybe. At herself or him I couldn’t begin to imagine.

“Art, I –”

“Please, just …” He grits his teeth, and his eyes are growing wet now, even as they start to narrow. “Just don’t. I get it, I sure ain’t father material, but you still should’ve told me I was gonna have a daughter. You owed me that much at least.”

“Owed you …” She lifts her chin a little, straightening her back enough that she can properly peer over her knees at him now, at least as much as the arrangement of the furniture and her diminutive size will allow. “I owed you? Oh, that’s rich … you were leaving. You’d got it in your thick head that you could just cut out of here and leave all of this behind, make some kinda clean break, leave that whole shitty mess with Yevnik behind. And I wanted to go, I really fucking did … but then I just started throwing at really stupid times, and I didn’t understand what that was about, I had nobody to tell me what the fuck was going on, I got scared, I thought maybe I was dying … and that would’ve been bad enough, you got it in your head you were gonna leave and I was gonna die on you. But then Toyah took me to Brigid’s Temple, and it only took the cleric two fucking minutes to work out that I was up the duff. And then I got really scared …”

Art watches her for a long, drawn out moment, his eyes still narrowed, so suspicious now, I don’t know how he’s actually going to react. “Scared? You were … why? I thought … we’d talked about this though, remember? You thought maybe you’d like to be a ma someday.”

For a beat she just stares at him, eyes wide and sharp now, and that fear’s just gone now, she’s pissed. She hops down from the seat so quick it actually alarms me, I even see Driver 8 shift just a little bit when she does it, but nothing more, no indication he might actually be reacting to a perceived threat. As she starts speaking now she stalks towards him, although having to wind her way around the furniture somewhat spoils the effect.

“On the road? Just the two of us, nothing to rely on? No way to make enough money to actually raise a kid? Seriously? You think that would’ve fucking worked? How the hell could we have ever provided for Vanna out there, like that?”

“I could’ve …” His frown deepens, his bottom lip starting to protrude now as he gets defensive. “I … we could’ve found work out there, on the road. I mean I make a pretty good living out there with the others, we make some decent fucking coin doing the work we do. And it’s honest work, Dar! Work I can actually be proud of!”

She stops a few feet short of him, giving him a truly dark glare, and she’s so tense, I can see her tiny little fists clenching tight at her sides, her back stiff now. “Mercenary work? As a bloody sellsword? Are you for real? You think we could possibly have raised a child on the road doing that kinda work? Or would you have been off doing your precious elevated prowler work with your lovely teammates while I waited back in some inn or boarding house somewhere with Vanna fretting for days or maybe weeks on end about whether you’d even come home again? Really? Is that a joke?”

For another few beats he glares back at her, still as angry as she is but clearly starting to deflate in the face of her rage, but then finally he looks down, opening his mouth to speak again but then stopping himself. Instead he just lets a weary sigh go and growls. “No. You’re right. That wouldn’t have worked at all.”

“Exactly.” She hisses right back, but I can see her starting to relax, just a little, the fierceness in her expression receding some.

“But I still …” He growls, wordless this time, just frustration now. “I would’ve …”

“What?” She steps closer, but her expression’s changing, softening, the anger just falling away, becoming something more sad, deeply bitter. “Art, please, think about it … what would you have actually done? Would you have stayed?” She takes that final step and reaches out, hesitant, but she doesn’t stop herself even when he flinches back a little from her touch, before finally letting her lay her hands on his. “Could you have stayed? Really? After all those decisions you made, the bridges you burned? That trouble you stirred up with Yevnick … that would’ve festered in you like one o’ those …” She falters now, turning to give Krakka a pleading look.

The tengu just blinks, his eyes wider now, and I think he feels caught out all of a sudden. “What? What is it –”

“That weird wasting disease that folk get sometimes, that shit you clerics find so hard to fix, what do they call it again?”

“Oh … it’s called … well, there’s no real proper name for it, there are so many different kinds, it can work in so many different ways, but it’s still almost always fatal, so we do the best we can to …” He falters as he catches the range of looks he’s receiving now, and frowns, clearing his throat. “Yes, of course. Cancer. That’s the most common name.”

Darwyn nods, sighing, and leans forward a little now as she looks at Art, giving his hands a little squeeze. “Cancer, like that. That’s what it would’ve been. It would’ve been like a cancer, eating away at you, would’ve made you hate the world and everything round you, made you bitter. Or maybe …” She grimaces a little, then shifts a little closer still, and he moves to lean closer too, until their foreheads touch. “Gods, Art, you’re so bloody stubborn. You might’ve just killed that evil old bastard, or ‘least tried to, and that would’ve just got you killed too. And then where would we have been?”

He looks up at her now, and the anger in his own face is gone too, mostly he just seems crestfallen now, sad and growing increasingly resigned. Finally he lets his head fall again, and this sigh is the heaviest yet. “Yeah. I … fuck, you’re right. I would’ve been … I’d have been a bloody mess.”

“Yeah, you would. And I’d have been even worse cuz of it, too.” She sighs, but there’s a fragile smile quirking the corners of her mouth now that I just manage to catch. She leans a little further and rests her forehead on his crown as he remains slumped. “I guess maybe we’re both idiots.”

After another beat he looks up again, and he’s still so sad, but also more fragile now. His eyes are wet again, and his lip’s wobbling. “Yeah, we … we are … but I still … I just wish you had told me, bugger what it would’ve meant, all these years I been out there and I didn’t know I was a da. That I had a daughter back here who never even got to meet me once.”

Darwyn reaches up with her right hand now, and it’s another hesitant, faltering gesture, her fingers close to his face but never quite touching him. “Yeah, I … I guess I get it. Maybe … maybe I shouldn’t have … I don’t know, I mean it made things so much worse …” She sighs, looking down herself now. “I wanted to tell you. But I couldn’t … because … like I said, you couldn’t stay. And then you were gone, and I …” She looks up again, and her smile dissolves, her own lip quivering now, her eyes wetter too. “I just got mad. Really fucking mad at you for being gone in the first place. And then … five bloody years, Art. You were gone for five years, and then suddenly you’re just … back, and all I could remember was how fucking angry you made me.”

Art grins at that, but it’s a weak and fragile thing, and a tear breaks free, rolling down through the shaggy fur on his cheek. “Course you did.”

She smiles back, but she’s no better at holding it together, and while she chuckles it’s sad and fractured, close enough to a sob really, and she slowly starts to weep too. “Yeah … but I still wanted to tell you. ‘Cept … you were still so pissed at me, and that just made it easier for me to stay mad at you too, and then I could just never find the right time. So finally I just … I guess I thought maybe it would just be better if I didn’t tell you. ‘Least not yet. Not with all this crazy shit going on.” She chuckles again, and perhaps there’s a little more humour in it. “I’m … yeah. I am. I’m sorry. I should have told you. So I’m glad you know. And that she knows.”

He nods in return, managing a little chuckle of his own that sounds no better than hers, really, and just reaches up to take hold of her raised hand. “She’s completely amazing, Dar. She’s the most beautiful thing I ever seen. And she’s smart, and funny, and just …” He laughs, fuller now, even as his tears come harder now, his voice growing thicker. “Fuck, Dar … I don’t know where the hell she gets any o’ that from. Sure ain’t from me.”

“No, ‘course not. She takes after her ma.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Art barks out another laugh. “I mean hey, but yeah. Maybe you’re right.” He leans his head forward and she responds in kind, laying her own forehead against his again. “I’m glad she’s more like you. Means she’s got a real chance in this world.”

Darwyn reaches up with her other hand now and finally touches his face, and they both close their eyes as they just stay like this for several moments. Krakka’s lets Bloodmoon settle on the floor as he turns to look up at Kesla, who’s just watching the two former lovers with a very complicated look on her face. Myself, I’m just finding it hard nt to get caught up in the emotion of the moment, and I have to sniff to hold myself in check as I stand up. Finally I lean in close to her ear to whisper: “Her name’s Vanna?”

Kesla turns to me, a slow smile touching her lips, although I think she’s a little caught up too, there’s a note of wistfulness in her eyes. “Yeah. Vanna Trustfoot. Cutest kid I ever seen, she’s incredible. Looks exactly how you’d imagine the two of ‘em mixed together would.”

“And that’s where she went before?”

“To visit her daughter, yeah. She said that fight she got into this afternoon, whatever it was happened to her, hit her hard. Reckon she got a painful reminder of her own mortality, an’ what she almost left behind.” She shrugs. “Makes sense. I’d prob’ly feel the same. Not that I’ll ever have a kid. Ain’t really in the cards, obviously.”

I can’t help cocking a brow at that. “I don’t know, something tells me you’d make an amazing mother.”

She simply grins at that, shrugging as she shifts her feet for a moment. Finally she looks around at the others, then turns back to me, her smile fading. “So … how’s it all holding up?”

Ah yes, reality. There goes my good mood, then. I let out a sigh as my heart falls, the anxiety coming crashing back to set me on edge again. “Thel’s … well, she’s alive. But Brung said they’ve done all they could for her for now. She’ll get better, but … she was hurt so badly, it’s a miracle from Minerva that she’s with us at all. I imagine she’s going to be out of it at least as long as I was.”

“Shit.” Kesla lays her right hand on her hip while her left rests on her sword like it always does, and she sighs again. “That’s about what I expected. How about Dumoli?”

Turning back to the fireplace, I see they goblin looking up at us now, still no more expressive than an oyster. But he’s clearly caught the drift of our conversation with his incredible hearing. “Brung?”

“Not sure. Better, but …” He shrugs. “Sleeping. Later.”

“Yeah, that’s about right too.” Kesla looks at Krakka now, who I realise has wandered over to us now, looking up with quiet curiosity. “How’s her Ladyship?”

“I’m all right.” Lady Naru’s smoothing her robes down, now stood a few feet away from us, looking thoughtful. “Not perfect, but my condition should suffice, at least for now. Your cleric even sobered me up again.”

Krakka visibly winces as he turns to give her a rather sheepish sidelong look. “My apologies, my Lady.”

“Quite unnecessary, Master Krakka. I feel revitalised, well enough to be of service again for the time being.”

“Good.” Kesla looks past her now to regard Driver 8. “You good, Big Man?”

“Fully functional, as always.”

“Champion.” Kesla manages a rather rueful smile. “Where’s Sessa?”

“She ported out a little while ago.” I offer up “We got to talking, about Gael’s situation, and she figured that maybe she could get some more official wheels turning for us. So she went to see Madame Daste, said she’d be back when she can, maybe with help.”

“Yeah, well that’s all grand, but we can’t rely on it right now. Gael might not have enough time for that. I wanna help ‘em now.” She looks around again, a little more thoughtful. “Has Yes got back yet?”

“No.” I frown. “Was she coming back? Krakka said she’d been following those sellswords. He mentioned a warehouse. Is that the same one –”

“First Point, yeah.” Kesla nods with a good deal more enthusiasm than I would’ve expected given the current atmosphere. She has an edge now, but I can’t help thinking she might be perking up. Likely the idea of a coming fight is improving her mood. “Tulen talked to her again ‘fore we jumped back here, told her to get her arse back pronto. I want us all ready to go soon as possible.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to wait for Madame Daste? She might be bringing some real reinforcements. We could do with them now we’re down a few.”

“You really wanna just wait round while that evil bitch has our friend?” There’s a coldness in Kesla’s eyes that that chills my blood some. It’s not directed at me, more just the idea of Vandryss and … well, whoever the hell those newcomers were, hurting Gael.

I suck air in through my set teeth now, frowning hard. “No. You’re right. We should move while we can.”

“Right.” Kesla reaches up now and lays her hand on my shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Get your armour sorted out, I’m gonna check my weapons. Don’t rush yourself. We can wait for everybody to be ready. Might be good to get a little food in you too, get your energy up again. But we’re still on the clock, so keep that in mind.”

“Sure.” I turn to regard Art and Darwyn, finding the halfling’s sat on the couch a few feet separate from him now, one foot up on the cushion, regarding him with a much less hostile look than anything she’s worn in the past. My friend, on the other hand, is just sat back, rubbing at his shoulder, frowning a little. Now I remember … “Krakka! You there?”

“Of course.” He takes hold of his hammer and hefts it up off the floor again, stepping over to us now. “What is it?”

“How’s your god magic? After what you did for Thel and then Lady Naru, I mean. Are you tapped out?”

That has him frowning up at me. “No, I have a little left in me. And My Lady doesn’t forsake me when I need her, all I have to do is pray for a time. Why? I thought you were –”

“Art’s shoulder. You need to finish healing it.”

His eyes widen as realisation dawns. “Oh! Goddess yes, of course. How foolish of me, I completely forgot. With everything else, I’ve just been –”

“Krakka, it’s fine.” I drop my hand on his shoulder and repeat Kesla’s gesture. “We’re all a bit worked up over Gael, and everything else, like you said. It’s understandable.”

Nodding, Krakka shifts Bloodmoon and lets it settle across his other shoulder, and I let him go as he navigates his way around my armour to reach the former lovers. When I turn again I find Kesla watching me, thoughtful again.

“What?”

“Nothing, really. You’re just … yeah, you’re a lot like your ma, I noticed. I didn’t know her long, but she made a hell of an impression. She’d be proud o’ you.”

Blinking in surprise, I shift my feet, looking her over as I try to work out what I could possibly say to respond to that kind of compliment. Finally I just shrug. “I’m just ... I want to help Gael, same as you, and the others. To do that we all need to be ready to go, like you said. It means he needs to do his thing and get Art fighting fit again, so to speak.” With another shrug, I turn to look over my scattered armour. “Yeah. It’s going to take me a little while to get back into that, if you want me to get something to eat too –”

“Already on it.” She turns away now, looking around. “Tulen?”

The young wizard jolts in her seat where I realise she’s been somewhat slumped for the last few minutes, starting to curl up in the comfortable cushions of one of the chairs as fatigue’s winning her over. She blinks rapidly, looking a little lost for a moment as she casts about with wide eyes, then she spots us both watching her and her blush starts immediately. “Oh! Oh … um … I’m sorry, I … yes … um …”

“It’s fine. You with us?” Kesla’s smiling now, indulgent and thoroughly amused.

“Yes, I’m … of course. I’m sorry.” Glancing about, she sees we’re all in the middle of making preparations now and pushes herself upright immediately. “How can I help you?”

“Excellent.” Kesla rubs her hands together. “We’re waiting on Yeslee to get back and there are a few other preparations that need to be made before we head out again, but in the meantime reckon we could all do with some grub to get us fuelled up again. How’s that sound?”

Tulen blinks for a moment, but her flush is fading again, which is probably a good sign. “Oh … well, yes. Of course it’s … yes. Just the thing, you’re right.”

“Fine. Can you run down to the canteen, put together a big platter with some sandwiches or something like that? Something quick but hearty. Maybe some coffee too.”

Nodding, Tulen starts to smile. “Yes. That is an excellent idea.” She starts to move off, then pauses and turns back. “Um … is that it?”

“I don’t see why not. Get yourself something too, obviously. You’ll be coming with us, after all.”

“Oh.” She blinks again, then nods, growing resolved now. “Of course. Yes. I won’t let you down.” She turns back and stalks out of the room with renewed purpose.

Cocking a brow, I turn to Kesla. “Smart.”

“Well, she’s been tripping over her own feet some since we got back, I know she’s prob’ly more worried about Gael than the rest of us put together. If she got something important to do for a while to distract her she might be all right again.” Kesla shrugs again. “And I weren’t lying, we do need her. Without Gael we’re down a spellcaster, an’ she’s definitely shown she’s got her own talents.”

“What about me?”

When we turn to her, Lady Naru’s stood by with her staff lightly propped against her shoulder, watching us calmly. I give Kesla a pointed look and she nods in return.

“You’re more’n welcome, my Lady. You got an investment in this too, more so with Gael gone, so …” She shrugs. “Yeah. You’re sure you’re good now?”

“Of course. Your cleric is, as one would expect of his profession, a miracle worker.”

“That was the idea. You got any preparations o’ your own you need to make? Like a sword or something? Maybe some armour?”

“Well I’ve never really had much use for the former, and the latter is a question of focus as much as anything else in my profession.” That answer just makes Kesla frown, but Lady Naru doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. “A little food should perk me up the rest of the way, anyway.” Her smile narrows a touch while her brow quirks just a little, and she casts a quick sidelong glance towards the entrance. “Yes. In the meantime, I shall make my own preparations. You have your own business to attend to.”

Kesla starts to ask what she means, I think, but she’s already moving away, heading towards the back of the room now where Driver 8 is still stood by, as implacable as before. I turn to where she was looking before, and I understand what she meant immediately, so I give Kesla a little nudge and point her that way.

Master Taphun Saxiros has stepped into the room now, folding his hands across his waist now as he takes us all in. Mostly he looks curious, but there’s a slightly critical air in his regard all the same. Again I’m reminded of the low regard they seemed to hold him in when I was first introduced to him, before we got to know the more pleasant, professional side of this very principled dragonhalf Order official.

Of course, I know what this is about. I remember the request Kesla made of him before we headed out, after we’d finished interrogating Vik. He must have the information we needed on the mysterious wayward Order wizard, Luthan Tavarrat. Maybe there’s even something we can actually use. It’d be nice to finally catch a break.

As I start to step that way Kesla reaches out and very gently presses her hand to my chest. “It’s cool, you got shit to do. Get your armour back on, I’ll talk to him, then I’ll fill you all in after. Cool?”

Frowning for a beat, I finally nod back. “Yeah. Sure.”

Smiling again, she gives me a rough but friendly little underhanded slap on my upper arm and heads off to join the dragonhalf. I frown after her for a moment, wondering if I should have insisted on being part of that conversation after all, but she’s right. It’s going to be more efficient if we just get to this now. So I turn back to the room at large and check my under-armour over, thinking on the task ahead now.

Finally, as I step over around the scatter of armour on the floor once more to return to my spot on the couch, I take note of Krakka now standing over Art with his hands pressed on his shoulder while muttering prayers with his head bowed. Meanwhile Darwyn’s still sat there, quietly watching them both, and I clear my throat. “Darwyn, do you have a minute, there?”

She doesn’t so much wake with a start as simply sit up a little straighter, but her eyes are still a little wide as they turn to me now, telling me I did surprise her a little. “Oh! Um … yeah, sure.”

“Great. You think you could help me get all this back on?”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

#never split the party #the creeping bam #the adventures of the creeping bam #book 3 chapter 23 #original fiction #fantasy fiction #original fantasy fiction #to be continued

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spctlights · 2 years ago

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(—) ★ spotted!! GRAHAM LAWRENCE on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 43 year old looks like MATTHEW GOODE, but i don’t really see it. while the AUTHOR/BUSINESS OWNER is known for being LOYAL my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be INSECURE i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song LOUDER THAN WORDS from TICK TICK... BOOM !!

BASIC INFORMATION:

name: graham edward lawrence.

nicknames: gaz.

pronouns: he/him.

gender: cisgender male.

age: forty-three.

date of birth: january 16th, ‘80.

place of birth: henley-on-thames, oxfordshire, uk.

astrological sign: capricorn.

orientation: bicurious.

APPEARANCE:

height: six foot two.

build: tall and slender, strong rower-type physique.

hair colour: dark brown.

eye colour: green.

wardrobe style: according to his son, he has a kind of cosy cottagecore or professorcore chique going on. he doesn’t really know what that means.

tattoos: none.

piercings: none.

HEALTH:

physical ailments: type 1 diabetes, chronic migraines.

mental ailments: struggles from imposter syndrome.

alcohol use: socially.

drug use: nothing except for prescription medicine.

addictions: has a bad smoking habit, but only when stressed.

PERSONALITY:

positive traits: loyal, patient, collected.

negative traits: insecure, easily overwhelmed, forgiving.

ACTIVITIES & SKILLS:

skills: writing, cooking.

weaknesses: any kind of ball sports, logic puzzles.

languages spoken: english, french, spanish.

CAREER DETAILS:

2002: continued studying and working at princeton as well as starring on the popular tv programme, and soon marries his sweetheart dominique.

2003: the divorce is all over the papers and the tv and he is hounded by the press. he becomes somewhat of an ‘elligible bachelor’, but tries to step away from the spotlight to work on his writing.

2005: publishes his first science-fiction novel. there is quite a bit of hate about his actual quality of writing, but most critics are shut up when he is nominated for the hugo awards and wins. he continues writing the series.

2008: the third book of his bestselling science-fiction series is published and later in the year, their son reid is born. they agree on shared custody and since then, his writing slows down.

2010: reid is staying with graham a lot more now, and his bookwriting comes to a bit of a halt. he manages to wrap up the science fiction series and sell it’s film rights before taking a step back.

2011: graham starts his own business of copywriting and editing for other authors, while working on some small projects, but not publishing anything himself.

2019-now: now reid is 11, he allows himself to go back to his own writing and try to publish again. he is quickly picked up by a new agent and publishes five books in quick succession, of which two standalones and one prequel to his original series, and two entries to a new epic fantasy series, which is receives incredibly well and is currently in a bidding war for film.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

sister: graham came from a wealthy upper-class family in the uk and has one younger sister (approx. 3 years younger).

(best) friends: graham splits his time between his home in england during the school holiday periods/when reid is with his mother and his home in los angeles, so he would have friends from either side of the pond.

ex-lovers: graham has dated somewhat - not an awful lot, and never anything too serious. he’s always made sure to keep it out of the press as well.

#⸻ ✧ GRAHAM LAWRENCE : ISMS ⧽#hillzhqsintro

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madwomansapologist · 2 years ago

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Hello gorgeous !

Could you write an soulmate au ( seeing colour )with billy and stu but the reader is from our time line and we meet them and the gang , and when when they are alone we just confess we know everything and them nsfw happens ?

Bonus if we have a ghostface tatto on our inner tigh 🖤

you look like you've seen a ghost | Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

synopsis: it was just a normal school day until you saw your favorite movie brought to life. You may not know how that was possible, but you do know everything that is happening. And, damn, you shouldn’t think that it will be a great experience but it is better than lying to yourself, right?

warnings: this is about two slashers so... blood, disrespect towards others lifes and a lovely, bloody and kinky make out session. a little bit of knife play, but just a little. and some swearwords, i made the reader a little bit offensive. actually: if you are reading about a slasher you should know that those warnings would be like that so....

note: thanks for your request my love! I take some time cuz I was sick and it was also my first time writing for slashers, hope I did well :) also: IF BAD WHY HOT???

It was a weird dream. No. Not a dream: it was a really weird nightmare. The moment you wake up the memories we’re already vanishing, but that ferrous taste didn’t leave your mouth even after breakfast. The thing was that the dream had something more than just black and white. Everyone just see those two color until they meet their soulmates, so you are not exactly sure if you are just confused or with you really saw it.

You saw blood on your dream and it wasn’t black.

Even tho you we’re focused on trying to remember your dream, the real life called and you need it to respond. School. An essential part of everyone’s life, but somehow everyone would create and excuse to stay at home. You weren’t in the mood to go to school and spend hours listening to boring monologues about your teacher’s divorce, but you had no choice.

Armed with headphones, you walked to school. At the school street you could see your friends, they tend to stay in front of school until everyone arrives, but it seens like the whole school had just decided to stay outside the building.

Before you could say anything, Stacy put her hands on your shoulder. “Guess who just died.” You blinked, surprised by the way she said it. “I don’t know who died but I know that a guessing game is not a great way to share the news.”

James hugged Stacy from behind, laughing at your response. “Darling, that was kinda creepy.” Stacy rolled her eyes. “Shut up”, she said. “Casey Becker was murdered last night. Murdered.”

“Wow” you said. “I am so sorry for her and her family. But, well, I don’t want to be rude, but who is Casey Becker?”

“What?” Stacy murmured. “You know her. We have science and math class with her. The blonde girl. Well, you don’t see color yet, so... the one with fringe, we watched Halloween with her and her boyfriend on the cinema. Do you at least remember Steven Orth?”

You shake your head, walking towards the building. “I really don’t remember her. Probably I am just a little bit confused.” You don’t remember Casey Becker, or Steven Orth, or watching a movie with them. You do remember hearing that name before, but not the girl. Embarrassed, you chose to lie. “I’m just having a horrible migraine, I almost can’t think straight.”

“Okay”, Stacy said, not really believing anything you told her but also not really sure if you we’re lying. On the school hallways, already on a new subject with James, Stacy stopped talking in the middle of the setence and pointed to a locker. “They are already making a memorial.”

Roses, bouquets, notes with heartbreaking messages decorated what before was Casey Becker’s locker. It was so kind and affectionate that even without knowing the girl who just died, you got sad. But when a person moved and you saw a picture of Casey Becker, sadness was nothing to you.

“She is Drew Barrymore.”

“What?” James asked. “Who?”

“She is Drew Barrymore”, you repeated. “50 First Dates, Charlie’s Angels, Santa Clarita Diet. Its a joke?” And then you remembered where you heard the name. “Its Scream’s birthday? Well, you guys get really creative. I almost believed.”

Stacy touched your forehead. “Dear, what the hell are you talking about? Who is Drew Barrymore? Did you take medication for your migraine?”

“You are really into the character”, you responded. “Fine, I want to be the helpless victim.” Stacy and James shared a look. “Are you fine?”, James said. “Do you feel dizzy?”

The alarm sounded.

“I have english class now” you waived to them. “See ya later.”

When you disappeared around the corner, James turned to Stacy. “It is a normal part of girls... you know, special moment of the month?”

“No, James” Stacy rolled her eyes. “Act crazy is not a normal part of menstruation.” She finished the way to her class alone. “And I am the creepy one.”

As you already thought, the teacher was using class time to talk about his divorce. Not a single lesson. And he still surprised that his ex-wife didn’t want to be with him, that men simply can't shut up.

Drawing something on your desk, what you shouldn't but you we're so bored that you almost didn't realize what you we're doing, your mind flew a little bit. Thinking about how weird it was that everyone knew about Scream's birthday except for you, Ghostface was one of your drawings.

Distracted, you dropped a pen. When you bend to grab it, another hand touch it. You look up, your mouth already moving to thank with the person, but no sound could be heard. You we're almost drooling yourself because, damn, that was Sidney Prescott.

It was like the movie came out of your and decided to go to school. It was her. The hair, the smile, the cheeks. Sidney Prescott was sitting beside you.

"Are you okay?" Even her voice was the same. She look like Sidney more than Nave itself.

"Thanks" that was all you could say. After grabbing the pen, you glance at your hands and count how many fingers you have. Ten. Not a dream. Ten fingers means that you are wake up. "You really look like Nave Campbell."

She smiled at you. Sidney Fucking Prescott smiled at you. "I don't know her, it was a praise or a offense?"

"A praise", you sit straight, tyding up your hair. "She is a actress. Did you ever watched Scream?"

She shaked her head. "Never ever heard about a movie with that name. Do you recomend it?"

Okay, that must be a really awesome coincidence. No way that she is Sidney. It is just a girl that looks like her. Things like that happen everytime. You even know a girl famous for looking like Selena Gomez. Just a coincidence.

"It is a movie for people who loves movies. Do you like horror? If you do, then you gonna love it."

"I do" she looked at the teacher, just making sure that he was still talking about how his ex-wife take his dog. "Whats your name? I don't remember seeing you."

You said your name to her. "I need it to change my class schedules, probably we didn't have a class together before. Whats your name?"

"Oh, I didn't even knew that it was possible. It is really nice to meet you, my name is Sidney Prescott. Whats your next class? Mine is history."

Okay. Just a coincidence. A really weird coincidence. Maybe she is just playing around. She is a copy of Nave, she probably just heard people saying this her whole life and decided to joke about it a little. Just a coincidence.

Things still kinda weird. Talking with her, you just remind something Stacy told you. She said that you, her, Casey and Steven had watched Halloween together on the cinema. What is weird because you never watched Halloween on a cinema. You watched it home, on a streaming service. And you also remember that Drew was on Alien so no one need to act like she didn't exist to make a joke about her appearing on Scream. And also, how could you leave your phone at home?

"And then he said: If you don't know anything, you probably just need to study more. I mean, hello, I would know if you did use your class to talk about english."

Moving to next class, that you both have together, silence didn't had space to exist.

"He is so strange. Why does he thinks that we would know something about a divorce? Just go to a therapist", she laught at your commentary. "Or to a lawyer. I am pretty sure that taking someone's dog is not a legal thing to do."

Sidney and you sit, the teacher was talking to a student about notes. "Would you like to do something after school?", you asked.

"That would be really nice", Sidney touched your arm. "What about watching a movie? My house will be empty, we could make popcorn and grab some junk food."

"That would be perfect."

"You can choose the movie while I make our lunch" Sidney said, walking around her kitchen and thinking about what you both could eat first. "You're welcome, feel free to choose whatever you like."

"Do you feel like watching what type of movie?" You scream to her at the living room, opening the shelf with all her movies. A breeze made shivers go up on your spine. Its a cold house. "Can you borrow me a sweatshirt?"

"Of course" Sidney reply. "My room is upstairs. Open the second drawer."

You opened her room and found everything, to the furnitures to the clothes, absolutely the same way as the movie. The phone ring downstairs. She really loves to use her looks to make fun of people. What would happen next? Ghostface gonna try to kill her?

You opened the second drawer and took one of her sweatshirts. They smeel like roses. You felt so warm now, a house surrounded by trees can be really cold. Walking around her bedroom, you breath in and let the calm enter you body.

Then you heard a scream.

"Sidney?"

And a crash!

"Sidney! Are you okay?"

The noise didn't stop. Things we're being break. You heard slaps, angry screams, something heavy beating against the floor.

A baseball bat was standing beside the bedroom door. You didn't even think twice, you grab it and run down stairs. And you saw something that you couldn't explain. Something that you we're trying not to see. Something that should be impossible.

You saw Ghostface choking Sidney Prescott.

Exactly like the first scene we're they fight on the first movie. Exactly like Scream, from 1996, we're Billy Loomis and Stu Macher we're trying to kill Sidney Prescott.

It was... It was real.

No.

Absolutely no fucking way this could be real.

It is just a bad dream.

You beat his back with the bat, releasing Sidney's from the killer. You pushed her, making her rise while trying to breath again, and beat Ghostface one more time.

"Are you fine?" Sidney didn't asnwer, but you both couldn't stay there. She grabbed you hand and push you upstairs, running to her room. "We need to get out of this house."

"Oh, I assure you need to" Ghostface screamed, getting up on the first floor.

Sidney locked her door and you both put furnitures in front of it. The door shake with him using his whole body to open. He was screaming and cursing, but Sidney was way smart to stand up without doing anything to protect herself.

"We can use the window", she said, already opening it.

You looked down, seeing that a fall like that would end up with some broke bones. "Better then die, right?" You we're not so sure, but when she agree with you it was like a little confidence bost. "And if we thrown your matttress?"

Sidney dropped everything that was on her bed and you both guide it to the open window. It was difficult, but it fell on the right place. Without even thinking, you helped her. It was just a dream, after all.

Standing on the window's jamb, she was scared to jump. "That is the only way", you told her.

And then, that horrible sound made of offenses, pushes and beats stopped. Ghostface was running towards you both, trying to grab Sidney to finally kill her, and you did the only thing you could.

You pushed her.

"You fucking cunt!"

It happen so fast. In a second you we're almost following Sidney out of the house, the next your hair was grabbed and you we're thrown on the floor. Your head burned and, with closed eyes, you felt him above you. Something cold, something sharp, touched the bottom of your neck.

It is just a dream. Just a weird dream.

"Open your eyes" Ghostface laughed. "Not so brave now, uh?" He pressed the knife, not cutting your skin but scaring you so bad that you stopped breathing. "I said open your eyes!"

Wishing you could wake up now, you did open your eyes. Ghostface mask was right above your face, his eyes on the same line as yours, and it was impossible to not look direct up on them.

And you saw red.

Part of your view still black and white, but a lot start burning. The red blood on his hands. The orange wallpaper, the yellow lighting. Everything was warm and soft and amazing. Everything was beautiful.

And then you realized what that means.

"You" he said. Not an offense, not an order, not a question. Just a word. Ghostface, you are not so sure if it was Billy or Stu, slipped the cold knife around the skin of you neck. "You", he said, again, and you we're not able to understand if that means something good or bad. The knife got down, he slipped it until the tip was pressing against your belly. You couldn’t breath. His other hand hold your face and it almost felt carefull. One finger slide against your lips. "You look like you seen a ghost."

And Sidney hit him with the same baseball bat you used to save her.

"You fucker!" Sidney screamed.

You don't even remember rising up from the floor. Or going down stairs and getting out of her house. You don't remember when the cops came or when they took you to the police station. You don't remember when you're parents took you home. You don't remember washing yourself or changing your clothes.

All you could thing about was how the words seens so beautiful. And how the image of a ghost didn't leave your vision.

Part of you thought that you would wake up and everything would be normal again. But the moment you enter the living room and heard the news, noticing how that voice sounds exactly like Monica Geller's voice, you understood that everything that happened to you was real.

You don't know how, but you are into a movie. Your favorite movie on the whole world. And without even noticing, you put yourself on a killer's aim. Of course you couldn't be in a romcom. No, it has to be a slasher. What a lucky girl.

Your parents we're so worried about everything. They didn't let you go to school, what was something that you didn't mind at all, and they look like they we're suffering from a heart attack. You stayed at home, beside them all the time. You felt so bad for them that you almost forgot about the colors you are seeing.

Almost.

At night, a cop called your parents. You didn't listen to what he said, but your parents said that it was important: the killer was arrested. They drove to understand how everything would work now, if they will need to do something and how the judgment would work. And, yes, they leave you at home. Alone. At night.

Something didn't feel right, the movie didn't work that way, but the movie didn't have you. So you stayed. Alone. At night.

A movie was playing on TV, but no one would dare to say that you we're watching. Laying on the couch, all you could do was to think about everything that happened.

Even tho you are so worried about, well, being on a different dimension or whatever that happened for you to be on a fucking movie, that part of you was muted by the part that just wanted to look at everything and see colors.

It is so great to watch the lighting. How it shine and burn and how the yellow seens to fly around it. Or to look at the mirror and see the color of your hair. See your eyes. Your skin. Your nails. Everything is so colorfull and delicate that you almost cryed.

Watching your nails, the natural rose tonality, you didn't heard when the door of your bedroom, on the second room, opened. Almost sleeping, you didn't even notice the crack of the degraus. So distracted, you didn’t realize that you we’re being followed when you entered your kitchen to eat something.

That's the problem of seeing so many great things: your ears stop working.

You opened the refrigerator, but there was nothing great there. You closed it and opened again. Nothing change. You grabbed and apple, the most sweet thing you could found, and turned to get back to the couch.

The moment you passed the door that separated the kitchen from the living room, a hand pulled you and make your back crash into the wall. You hold your breath, at the same time you could feel your whole body shaking. Another time, you felt the cold tip of a knife against your throat. It was more rude, more playfull, like the person behind the mask enjoyed to see your throat being pressed.

"Hello, princess", Ghostface said to you. His other hand was against the wall, at the same line as your head, and you could felt his body bending over you. "My turn to see those beautiful eyes."

You we're scared like hell, but you know that if you found your soulmate you wouldn't kill them. You only wished they think the same way. So, slowly, you look at him.

And what you saw was cold. The blue of your TV screen. The shapes of the tile. The green walls. Your shorts. It felt like you we're drowning. Warm and cold became one. No more a world made of just black and white.

And that made you more confident.

“Whats stopping you, Billy? Are you scared?”, you mocked him. “Or this is you, Stu? I tought you would be more creative then just throwning me against a wall with a knife against my throat. Not my first time and I am not impressed.”

Ghostface seens to freeze. He lower his heigh, making his face stay right in front of you. You could heard him breathing. "I prepared to you a set of jokes! All you needed to do was wait. How could you do this to me?" He take his mask off, releasing Stu’s face from the fabric. “Don't be so rude, dear, that gonna break my heart.”

“I hope it hurts you as much as you rocking my head againd the wall did to me.”

“It was supossed to be a surprise” Stu explained. "I was trying to create a good first impression."

"Didn't work, Shagy."

"Shagy?"

“You gonna understand it in a few years”, you swallowed, the knife was touching you again. “Where is he?”

"Seens like I made a good first impression, Shagy. You should learn something from me" Billy came out of a dark corner. He was wearing another Ghostface fantasy, but without the mask. "Hello, doll."

"I tought that I was a cunt" you remind him of last night. "Gonna try to cut me and give up like a fucking pussy again?"

"You should wash your tongue with soap."

"And you should try to stab yourself. I promise that it would be really fun." You smiled. "At least for me."

"Damn, she is..." Stu stopped talking. He look at you like you we're a secret combination he was trying to memorize. "Perfect."

"I told you", Billy come closer. Stu had his hand at your right side, Billy did the same at the left one. You we're like a noisy prey: say whatever you wanted, you still a prey. "And she knows how to defend herself too. My back still hurts, doll. You shouldn't be so mean to me."

"Drop the knife and I can think about being nice", you demand.

Without hesitation, Stu responded: "Explain how you know our names."

You thought about it. Not so sure, you choose to be honest. "This is a movie."

"What?"

"This is a famous movie on my reality. Don't know how I end up here." They would never believe on you. "You both are trying to kill Sidney because of an affair her mom had with your dad. Casey died after saying that Jason was the killer on Friday 13th, but it was his mom. She almost survived, almost. Honestly, you should try therapy. You would save money, time and lives."

Stu and Billy looked at one another. They know that it was impossible to someone to know all of that. "It is a great movie?" Stu asked.

"It is. I am kinda of a fan. I even have a tatoo." You said, sure that it would make them interest enough to forget about the knife. And you knew that you we’re right when you saw Billy's eyes shining. "Show me."

“No!” Stu shouted. “Show me.”

“I will show for you both.” You said, looking at Stu. “If you drop the knife. Now.”

"As you wish", and Stu did it. It almost fell on your feet, and it might be your a optimism talking, but you think that he new that it wouldn't hurt you.

You pulled up the fabric of your skirt and show them the tatoo on your left inner thigh. It was a little Ghostface with a bloody knife. How ironic.

Billy came closer and touch your skin. His fingers slipped across the tatoo, touching more than only the painted skin. “So” Billy said with a smirk, mocking you. "Are you a fan?"

"Don’t flatter yourself.”

Billy’s hand hold your thigh, his fingers cherish your skin but it didn’t change how possessive the act felt. He wasn't just touching your thigh, he was holding you. “It seens like you are the one flattering me. You know our names, our faces, our stories. You even have us on your body. And don’t forget the fact that the universe itself decided that we should be together.”

“You talk a lot” Stu complement, his mouth against your ear. “But you didn’t scream. Or run. Or fight back. Does that dirty mouth of yours just bark?” Stu touched your face, his nails scratching your cheeks, and you didn’t deviated. “All you had to do is say no. Say you don't want it. Say you don't want us.”

But you couldn’t.

Billy pushed Stu aside and hold your waist. “I saw her first.” He pulled you closer, almost pulling you off the floor, and your chest joined his. “Did a cat got you tongue?"

You tried, but you couldn't respond him. You just closed your eyes.

When his lips we’re almost touching yours, Stu grabbed him by his clothes and took you on his arms. “Not my fault if you are slow.”

Stu hold your face, and he was faster than Billy. His lips meet yours, his tongue explore your mouth, his hands slide by your body. Stu leaned over you, so your only option was to cling to him.

Bewitched, being separated from Stu thanks to their inherent competitiveness between then both was disappointing.

"My turn."

Billy was more agressive. He didn't leaned over you, he pulled you close. Holding your thighs, Billy lifted you off the ground and made your legs cling to his waist. Billy laid you down on the couch, fitting between your legs, and the kiss that took your breath away ended so that he focoused on your neck.

"My parents," you said, trying to recover your sanity. "They could see us."

"They won't." Billy licked your neck. "We planned everything, doll. It was supossed to be a surprise, but thinking about that skirt you choose to wear tonight I think that your we're waiting for us."

Billy was squeezing whatever part of your body that he could.

"You will not exclude me." Stu said. His voice was weak, Stu was enjoying that little show of yours.

You sit on the couch, and Stu sit beside you. He kissed your face, your neck, your shoulder. His hands grabbed your thighs, your waist, your chest. Stu was whorshiping you.

And while he explore the your upper body, Billy knelt between your kness. He took off your underwear with his teeth, nibbling the soft skin of your thigh and licking where the tatoo was.

Billy's was having fun doing you. His tongue was dancing into your legs. You grabbed his hair, moaning direct into Stu's lips.

"Fuck." Stu groaned. "How can you be so perfect?"

You put your hand inside his pants, grabbing his cock and jerking it off. The little moans he let escape from his mouth made you felt even hotter. "You can thank me later."

Kissing your mouth, Stu took off your blouse. Licking everything he could, he smirked. "I will."

Billy sucked you with so much pleasure that you started to ride his face. You could feel his nose rubbing against your clit and you knew his face must be soaked, but it didn't seem to bother him. "I want to feel you."

When Stu touch your clit, rubbing that sensitive spot, added to Billy's tongue, you couldn't do nothing but to cum loudly.

Still shaking, you kissed Billy's wet face while making Stu cum in your hand. With a smile, you got up and walked towards the stairs. "I will wait in my room."

They got up immediately.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @amournoir @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

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too-gay-for-marvel · 3 years ago

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just this once pt.5

a/n: yall. yall im on a roll. and no i will not apologise for anything that happens in this chapter. also, still learning how to do taglists so if it doesn’t work or you weren’t included, send me a message and i’ll try to get it fixed!

Word Count: 4,285

Warnings: canon typical violence, non-explicit mentions of torture, mutant experimentation

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

“I think Fury is giving you a sign.”

Natasha looked up from her paperwork to see Maria leaning against the door frame to her office. She herself had just gotten back from a mission, evident in her slightly mused ponytail and gun still on her hip. A very beyond attractive look, if Natasha had to say it.

“What do you mean?” Natasha asked, leaning back in her chair to give her full attention to her fiancee.

“So he didn’t tell you,” Maria said with a nod. She pushed herself off the door frame and moved to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

“I’ll admit that gives me a clue,” Natasha said with a small frown. She didn’t like where this was going.

“He’s sending you on another mission,” Maria replied. “With Y/N.”

“I thought we told him emergencies only,” Natasha mused more to herself than to Maria.

It seemed like Nick was sending the both of you on every mission he could possibly come up with. He needed some information. Then he wanted the layout of a base. Then he wanted some recon on security in another location. All were things that Natasha not only could have done with someone else, but she could have gotten them done on her own.

He seemed to think differently.

“He wants you to leave tomorrow,” Maria continued, bringing Natasha out of her pouting. “Personnel recovery.”

“At least that gives us a few hours together,” Natasha said with a small smile.

“Maybe we can finally get some planning done,” Maria nodded as she stood up. “Maybe a colour scheme?”

“Red and black,” Natasha shot back.

“We’ll argue about it later,” Maria smiled. She walked over and tilted Natasha’s chin up to give her a quick kiss before leaving the office, presumably to get cleaned up.

Natasha looked down at her paperwork for not even five minutes before deciding she was going to rush upstairs and surprise Maria in the shower. She had just started piling the papers up when you walked in, harpoon on hip and soaking wet.

“Did you ask Fury for another mission?” You asked as you plopped into the chair opposite her, water instantly dripping down the sides of the seat.

“No,” Natasha said curtly, hoping she could get you out of her office sooner if she didn’t invite conversation.

“Then why is he sending us together?” You asked. Your fingers started combing through your hair, the webs gathering whatever was stuck. Drops of water splashed onto Natasha’s pristine papers.

“I don’t know,” Natasha said again, turning her lip up when you put a piece of seaweed on her desk.

“I thought you knew everything,” you huffed, staring intently as a shell you had pulled out of your suit sleeve.

“Well clearly not,” Natasha mumbled to herself.

You leaned over to rest your elbows on the desk, your dripping wet hair leaving puddles on the mahogany and her papers. Natasha set her jaw and gave you a look, keeping eye contact. But your eyes gave off that mischievous sparkle, the one that would make any woman swoon. And Natasha’s heart raced.

“Think I can get that in writing?” You asked with a raised brow. “You know, for the next time you act like a know-it-all.”

“Did you just come in here to act like an ass?” Natasha asked as she picked her papers up and started walking out.

“Actually,” you started as you pushed away from the desk and stood up, “I’m here to bring you this.”

You held your open hand out, palm up, and Natasha looked cautiously to see what it was. In the middle of your palm was a whole shell, with a small black pearl in the centre. It looked absolutely stunning, and Natasha reached out to gently take it.

“Why did you bring this to me?” Natasha asked, although she feared she already knew your answer.

“Cheeseburger found the shell the other day,” you shrugged, “and Roger got the pearl out.”

Natasha did her best not to chuckle at the silly names you had given the octopus and otter that usually inhabited your moon pool. Cheeseburger, the octopus, had lost two limbs and had a nasty habit of stealing your cheeseburgers (hence the name), while Roger was an in-progress rehabilitation project. Unfortunately, the three of you were like peas in a pod.

“It’s beautiful,” Natasha mused, her eyes still glued to the pearl. “But I can’t take this home to my fiancee.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. The space between the both of you increased as you visibly took a step back, and Natasha missed the closeness. Things had seemed normal only a moment ago, and now she could feel you closing yourself off to her, going cold once again.

“Then give it to Maria,” you shrugged. “Get some brownie points before going off on another mission with her favourite person.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Natasha shot back. “I just don’t want to waste your gift.”

“It was just cluttering up my space,” you replied, voice cold.

“Give it to Yelena,” Natasha said softly, holding the shell and pearl back out for you to take. “She would love it.”

“Yelena,” you huffed with a small smile. A sad smile. You grabbed the shell from her hand rather roughly, causing Natasha to flinch. “Thanks for the input.”

“Y/N,” Natasha started, but you were already walking away in the opposite direction, head high and feet dragging.

Natasha sighed and started her own way back to her floor. She wanted Maria to distract her. From you.

———

“What’s our objective again?” You shouted from the back of the quinjet.

“Personnel recovery,” Yelena answered. “Some scientist wanted out of AIM.”

“Why is that my responsibility?” You continued. Your boots echoed off the floor and you popped your head in between Yelena’s and Natasha’s chairs.

“Because something smelled-”

“Don’t,” Natasha interrupted.

“-fishy,” Yelena finished anyway, and both you and Natasha groaned as she just laughed at herself.

“I’m not paid enough for this,” Natasha mumbled to herself before turning her head and looking out the windows.

“I’ll throttle you,” you said as you lightly slapped Yelena upside the head.

“Listen,” she tried to say around another round of giggles, “if Fury ever told me his plans, I wouldn’t be stuck here with you two.”

“Well why don’t you find out? I wanna know why he’s sending me on this mission.”

“I already told you, I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know? Surely you must have some kind of-”

“Can you both shut up?” Natasha shouted. The both of you grew silent immediately, and Natasha finally let out a breath and tried to rub her growing migraine away.

“Should’ve just sent Nat,” you grumbled. “She’s grumpy enough to scare everyone away all on her own.”

Yelena snorted, and when Natasha shot a look her way, she tried her best to look out the window. You, on the other hand, held up to her challenge and met her eyes. That ridiculous smirk refused to disappear, and Natasha wanted so desperately to wipe it off your face. But instead she just turned back around and looked out the window once again.

The rest of the trip was silent, only the occasional update being spoken aloud. Yelena managed to drop the both of you off and stayed in the jet, more than ready for when you both got back and could get back to the Tower for a well-deserved weekend.

It was a quick jog to the location, with tents and cages set up all around the landing port. The building was a few stories tall, but well fortified with guards around every corner. The majority of cages were empty, but every now and then you could hear a bear, a dog, a human.

“I thought these guys were scientists,” you whispered from where you were crouched beside Natasha.

“They are,” Natasha nodded.

“Must be pretty paranoid then,” you continued.

“You would be too if your work relied on illegal mutant experimentation,” Natasha clarified. You didn’t say anything else, but she could see your knuckles going pale.

“Let’s get our man and go,” you practically growled. “Before I kill them all.”

Natasha knew you weren’t joking.

You both went in opposite directions, you heading to the back door and Natasha heading to the side. There was no guaranteeing that the scientist was even inside at all, but that was the easiest place to check. There was too much vulnerability outside and Natasha wasn’t going to risk getting caught and failing another mission.

“How are we supposed to find one nerd in a facility full of nerds?” You asked over the intercoms, and Natasha assumed you had made it into the building.

“Be nice,” Natasha whispered, “not all scientists are nerds.”

“Bruce and Tony are,” you replied. Natasha pulled herself against a wall when she heard voices. “Everyone here is.”

“Hush,” Natasha whispered. You remained silent as Natasha listened to footsteps getting closer, and then turning into the opposite direction. She let out a quiet breath.

“Do we really want to help someone who’s torturing mutants?” You asked again, a barely contained anger in your voice.

Natasha rounded another corner, trying to come up with an answer for you. You weren’t wrong; she didn’t like the idea either. Why save the scientist when you could save the people instead? But Fury wanted him, and there had to be a reason for it. The location was known, so someone could always come back to save them another day.

“Nick will send us back another day,” Natasha finally said out loud. You huffed on the other end of the comms.

You both continued through the facility, methodically clearing rooms until finally you indicated you had found him. Some wiry man with broken glasses, according to your description. Natasha gave confirmation and headed to the meet up point, somewhere on the second floor. Once Natasha was about to round the corner to the location, she could hear your voice carrying through the halls.

“You’re lucky I don’t wring your neck myself.”

“What’s the problem?” Natasha asked as soon as she saw you.

You were right. The man was wiry and nerdy, something you would expect from a mad scientist in a comic book. White tape was wrapped around the nose piece of his glasses in stereotypical fashion and he was hunched over like the world was resting on his shoulders.

No surprise, considering you were hovering nearly a foot over him.

“He called me an animal,” you seethed, your hands visibly shaking with the desire to have them around the man’s neck.

“Look at your arms and neck, what else could you be?” He asked in a gruff New Jersey accent.

“You want an animal? I’ll show you an-”

“That’s enough,” Natasha demanded. She stepped in between the both of you and pushed you away, not even bothering to get near the man.

“If he has to go with us, then so does one of the mutants,” you said, leaving no room for argument in your voice.

“We can’t risk it, we’re leaving them here,” Natasha said quickly. The hair on the back of her neck was starting to stand up and her stomach felt like it was dropping.

“I’m not leaving them and taking that,” you said through clenched teeth while pointing at the scientist.

“You’re going to risk my life for one of them?” He asked, his face drawn in disgust at the mere thought that his life was equal to a mutant’s. Natasha wanted to strangle him.

“We will come back for them another day,” Natasha said again, but you didn’t look convinced.

“I’m not leaving without them, so you’re gonna have to wait,” you shot back.

Voices could be heard in the stairwell a few halls away.

“And I’m not risking another mission,” Natasha argued, walking closer to you and forcing you to step backward to keep your space.

“If you think I’m taking that and leaving one of those kids then you’re-”

Click.

The both of you froze, your eyes boring into Natasha’s. A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, so thick Natasha struggled to draw breath. Her heart was pounding in her ears and that feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach returned.

And then your eyes left hers, trailing down to the too-tight cuffs that were now keeping you chained to the pipes against the wall. They weren’t the usual police handcuffs, but the kind that they had used on Loki after the invasion of New York.

You weren’t getting out of them.

“Natasha,” you started, your eyes moving back to meet hers.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered. She took one heavy step back, never taking her eyes off of you.

“Unlock them,” you continued. Your chest was starting to rise and fall slightly faster.

“Someone will come for you,” Natasha said again with a slight nod.

Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“Get back here, Romanoff,” you said as Natasha started leading the scientist down the hall.

Away from you.

She didn’t answer. She just felt her leaden boots take step after step, leading her further away from where you were chained. When she didn’t answer, she heard the sound of metal pulling against metal and your grunts and groans as you tried to yank the cuffs off.

“You can’t leave me here!” You shouted, your voice echoing down the hall after Natasha had turned the final corner.

She heard other voices coming from the same direction as yours, quickly followed by shouting and the solid thuds of blows being landed.

“Natalia!” You shouted again once Natasha had opened the door to lead the scientist out.

Only moments after the door shut, Natasha heard your scream. A scream of anger and frustration, a scream that reached down Natasha’s throat and ripped her heart out. The prick of tears in her eyes left a sinking feeling in her gut, left her feeling empty and a broken shell.

But she had a mission. And she was going to complete it.

She shoved the scientist in the direction of the quinjet and didn’t look back. Ignoring the whining and complaining coming from the man and eventually just throwing him into the back of the quinjet, ignoring the way Yelena jumped at the sudden noise.

“Where’s Y/N?” Yelena asked, moving her head around, trying to see if you were close behind.

“Get us in the air,” Natasha ordered. Tears pricked her eyes once again.

“Are they coming?” Yelena asked again, ignoring Natasha’s order.

“I said get us in the air, now.”

Yelena gave Natasha a look that sent a shiver down her spine, but turned around and got the jet in the air nonetheless. The scientist pulled himself into the seat next to Natasha. He seemed much more relaxed, and Natasha couldn’t blame him. He probably didn’t realise just how much had been risked to get him back to SHIELD.

“You made the right choice,” he said after some unbearable silence. Natasha turned to look at him, her brows pulled together.

“Excuse me?”

“You made the right choice,” he said again with an enthusiastic nod. “You never know what those animals might do-”

He was cut off with a choked gasp as Natasha slammed her elbow into his face, and he quickly lost consciousness.

“Just shut up,” she mumbled to herself, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

It didn’t make her feel any better.

———

It was six weeks before the party had been dispatched to get you back. The party had consisted of Natasha, Yelena, and Wanda, and there was going to be nothing extra. They were going to get you out and get back to SHIELD, no side missions, no stops, no questions.

Maybe it just so happened that the only way to get you was to burn the facility to the ground and get the rest of the mutants out. Maybe they had called for a second quinjet to arrive to make sure everyone was able to get out safely.

Yelena and Wanda were tasked with getting everyone on the jets and eliminating the few soldiers remaining while Natasha had scoured the facility top to bottom to find you. There was a large portion of the basement that Natasha had found, filled with surgical equipment and things that would have been enough to give anyone nightmares.

And you were there, nude, in a too-small empty glass tank with a chain around your ankle. There were rips and tears in the thin membranes between your spines, and a dark black mark on your left shoulder blade. From her angle, it looked like some kind of gunk was stuck in your gills. You were curled up into a fetal position and kept your eyes glued to the ground directly in front of you.

“Y/N,” Natasha said, her gun still drawn but lowered.

“I should thank you, Miss Romanoff,” a voice called, and Natasha spun with gun raised to find a scientist walk forward, standing near a panel by your tank. “You gave me my greatest obsession.”

“How about you just let them out and I don’t kill you,” Natasha shrugged.

“I’ve learned a lot from our little friend,” he continued, ignoring her. “And you’re in time to see the results of something I’ve been working on.”

“Let them go,” Natasha said again. She cocked the gun, but the man laughed.

“I hear drowning is a horrible way to die,” he said, still ignoring her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw you raise your head and look at her. The dark spots under your eyes were beyond evident, sticking out against the sickened colour of your skin. There was no emotion in your eyes, not even a silent plea for help.

You looked like you had already accepted death.

“How long do you think a sea creature can hold its breath underwater before it needs to breathe?” He asked, his fingers typing against the panel.

“Don’t,” Natasha shouted, her trigger finger pulling instinctively and burying a bullet into the man’s chest. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Water started filling your tank, and you stood up to get your head as tall as it could get. Natasha nodded at you once, and you covered your head as she fired shot after shot at the tank. But there wasn’t even a dent, nothing to indicate that the tank could be broken.

“What do I do?” Natasha asked as she ran up to the tank, watching the water slowly rise to your ankles.

You didn’t speak, didn’t open your mouth, instead pointing as best you could to a discrete pipe against the opposite wall. Natasha looked at it and followed the direction until she saw a lone wheel connected to the wall. A wheel that could control the water flow.

“Stay here,” Natasha told you as she ran off, grimacing to herself. It wasn’t like you had anywhere to go.

She grabbed the wheel and pulled, but it didn’t budge. It felt like she was trying to pull a quinjet with her bare hands; an impossible task in and of itself. Her eyes trailed over to see the water had reached your waist. There had to be something else she could get, something to help.

The thud of your hands on the glass made her turn, and you were pointing in another direction. Her eyes followed, but there wasn’t anything she could see that would immediately-

A pipe.

Natasha sprinted to grab it from the table, nearly dropping it in her haste to get back to the wheel. The water was up to your neck, and Natasha could already see that your gills weren’t filtering anything. They stayed terribly still, and Natasha had to drag her feet to get back to the wheel.

She stuck the pipe into the empty spaces of the wheel and pulled, yelling in frustration until it finally moved. She continued pulling until she heard the flow of water stop, and a tired smile etched itself onto her lips as she turned back around to see you.

But the water was over your head, and now she was leaving you to drown.

She couldn’t break the glass; the water was off and you were still drowning. Your eyes were wide, and the fear of the situation finally made its way onto your face as you curled in on yourself and started pulling at the chain around your ankle, air bubbles escaping from your nose at a rapid rate.

Natasha got an idea. She didn’t hesitate as she started pushing the pipe, the flow of water rushing back. Only this time, she didn’t stop until the pipes rattled with the flow, barely able to contain the volume inside. She pushed until the pipe stuck, and she turned and ran back to the tank.

Your eyes were closing, the air bubbles almost nonexistent, your struggle against the chain ending. Natasha started banging on the glass, trying to keep you awake, but you didn’t move, instead just floating, and Natasha felt her heart sink.

The glass creaked under her fingers. Natasha’s eyes shot open and she watched the glass, noting the single crack that started to web across the entirety of the tank. She barely had time to step aside as the glass shattered, water shooting out and leaving you to drop to the ground.

When you didn’t move, Natasha jumped forward, dropping to the ground and immediately starting CPR. She could feel a rib break, maybe two, but she didn’t stop. She wasn’t going to stop until you could breathe. You just needed to fucking breathe-

Your body shuddered as you choked, coughing up water before your eyes shot open. Natasha felt herself let out a shaky breath, but she didn’t let herself rest. She grabbed her gun and shot where the chain was connected to the floor, listening to it break before grabbing you and pulling you up.

“You need to lose some weight,” Natasha groaned as you leaned on her side, your feet barely moving.

You didn’t say a word the whole trip out of the facility. Just managed to drag yourself out, eventually walking more on your own when you neared the quinjet. Yelena ran up to the both of you and got on your other side, sharing a look with Natasha.

“I’ve got it,” Yelena said in a tone that told Natasha to let go and give her some space.

Natasha did, watching as Yelena finished dragging you to the quinjet and putting you in a seat before wrapping a blanket around your naked form. Your eyes fell back to the ground when Yelena finally got the jet in the air, and you refused to look at anyone when you got back to the Tower, leaving Natasha without a second thought.

———

Natasha was sitting at the bar on the common floor, picking apart her food. She had tried to see you multiple times over the past two weeks, only to be turned away by doctors or Yelena. There was something wrong, but Natasha couldn’t find out because no one would let her.

The ding of the elevator had her turning her head, not necessarily eager but casually curious on who had appeared. To her surprise, Yelena walked out with a McDonald’s bag in hand, some drink in the other. She didn’t look happy, but Natasha could’ve expected that.

After all, Yelena hadn’t forgiven her.

“How are they?” Natasha asked.

“Alive, no thanks to you,” Yelena shot back. But she had stopped and was talking back; that was an improvement from the past two weeks.

“I had a mission,” Natasha said, but her voice was small, weak.

“They were part of that mission,” Yelena answered.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said quietly. She said it to assuage her own guilt. It didn’t work.

“You’re stringing them along,” Yelena said, her voice taking a different tone that Natasha hadn’t been expecting. “Just marry Maria already and end the suffering.”

“I’m not stringing them along,” Natasha defended.

But she knew she was wrong. Yelena was right. And Natasha wasn’t going to stop because what would her life be without you? How could she go about her day-to-day life if she knew you weren’t going to be there in some fashion? Maybe she was in love with Maria and was going to marry her, but that didn’t mean she wanted to throw you away.

“Just be gentle,” Yelena said with a sigh. “Everyone has feelings at stake.”

“And you?” Natasha asked, causing Yelena to freeze. “What feelings do you have at stake?”

A small, sad smile made its way onto her face.

“Desire,” Yelena shrugged, but just like that her demeanour changed. “Y/N said I couldn’t eat before them, and I very much desire this McChicken.”

“You’re disgusting,” Natasha chuckled.

“And this McFlurry. You know the good stuff,” Yelena teased again, causing the both of them to laugh.

“Then go on,” Natasha motioned toward where she assumed you were waiting. “I’d hate for the two of you to starve.”

Yelena gave her a smile, one like the good old days, and continued her walk. She stopped in the doorway and turned around.

“Oh, Fury wanted me to tell you something.” Natasha gave her a look for her to continue. “You and Y/N are going undercover. As a couple.” With that, Yelena continued off, leaving Natasha to deal with the news.

Why couldn’t things ever be easy?

Taglist: @wickedmuses @m-zne237 @noodlybees @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @gottacamz @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday @santasbitch @when-wolves-howl @madamevirgo @hopingforromanoff

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #my writing

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dragonsarecool · 2 years ago

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Whumptober Day 28 - Headache

Twenty Eight: Headache

A/N: Set after ‘Tintin and the Picaros’ and takes place in a timeline where ‘Alph-Art’ never happens.

They don’t come as frequently as they used to, but he swears that it was one of those things that wasn’t improving with age.

He knew it would happen at some point; it was almost inevitable, given the amount of head bashing and trauma he’d experienced. Some doctors would remark how they couldn’t believe he was still awake and talking, and that he should either be in a vegetative state or in the morgue.

Now he looked back on those comments with the same amount of disbelief.

They seemed to come sporadically at the start; the first time he remembered having an excruciating headache was when he was being held captive by Mitsuhirato in China. He could remember running from gunshots near the train line that they had blown up, yet he was never able to remember actually slamming his head into that tree.

That headache had lasted long after he’d faked being injected with the madness poison, and had persisted well into the early hours of the morning.

At the time, he’d thought nothing of it. He attributed it to the extreme stress of the situation and nothing more.

But they continued to make appearances, with each one being worse than the last. Sometimes he would press his fingers so aggressively into his forehead that the indent marks would take days to fade.

If he was ever asked about his current wellbeing, he would insist to every single doctor he encountered that his head was never the same since that Bordurian agent managed to graze his skull and keep him hospital-ridden for weeks.

But he never told them how bad he really felt. I can handle it, he would tell himself. I’ve always handled it.

The Captain and Nestor had grown increasingly used to his sudden bouts of ‘illness’ over the years. Sometimes he couldn’t even make it through eating his breakfast without having to return to bed, cradling his head as he wished for the knife that stabbed him between his eyes to finish the job. Nestor would usually produce a cold pack for his forehead and leave a glass of water that often remained untouched for fear of regurgitating it all over his bedsheets.

His breaking point had been once they’d returned from rescuing Calculus in Borduria. He’d woken the entire household a few nights later with his screams, which everyone automatically assumed was due to another nightmare. Haddock and Nestor had abandoned the warm comforts of their respective beds to sprint to Tintin’s room, their concern mounting as the screams grew louder.

As soon as Nestor had thrown the bedroom door open, both men had sprinted inside, only to grind to a halt at the sight before them.

Tintin was kneeling at the foot of the bed, his head buried so deeply within his pillow that Haddock initially thought he’d cut a hole through the centre. His pyjamas were soaked with sweat, his hands trembling as he moaned from the flames of agony that were burning furiously inside his skull. Colourful spots were flashing in disorientating patterns across his field of vision, and any sort of external light that infiltrated his eyelids was enough to make him start gagging in agony.

For some reason he wasn’t taken to hospital for that incident, though the exact reason why was something he would never know. He couldn’t remember much from that night, apart from vomiting profusely all over the Captain’s slippers, something which he would be mortified about until the day he died. All he could recall was seeing the doctor at Marlinspike the following morning, who’d informed him that what he’d experienced was a migraine, and that it was possible they could become a long-term issue. He’d provided a prescription for some strong pain relievers, and advised him to start taking when he felt a headache beginning to brew.

Tintin had shot back, claiming his head seemed to be hurting every day at this point: “Do you want me to destroy my liver? No way am I taking those! I can handle it!”

“Young man,” The doctor had looked down at Tintin over his glasses, his brow furrowing with concern, “are you telling me that you are used to being in pain?”

He’d instantly denied it at first, as was typical for Tintin when it came to anything medical-related. He retracted his statement and managed to usher the doctor out of the door before any further probing of his condition could be conducted. I can handle it.

But as the weeks went by, he found that he could no longer work in the office, for the noise and lights were often too overwhelming, and he’d be curled up under his desk weeping with pain. The boss was supportive and understanding at first, but as the number of calls to the local doctor while Tintin was on the clock became more and more frequent, he started to lose his patience, and eventually asked him to re-evaluate his choice in career: “I can’t have my journalists doing their work from under the desk instead of at it.”

Tintin had packed up his cubicle and went straight home to Marlinspike once his boss had finished giving his ‘recommendation’. He’d stolen one of the Captain’s whiskey bottles that night and drank until he was satisfied he’d have a massive hangover the following morning. I can handle this…

It had taken months before he managed to settle into a new routine. He was able to negotiate with his workplace to research and submit articles from Marlinspike, although he was now limited by his condition as to how far from home he could travel to investigate potential stories. He would go through periods where he could go for runs around the estate with Snowy, but he would also have times where he was bedridden for days.

“Why do I deserve this, Captain?” Tintin asked at breakfast one morning. “W-Why do I have this…this ‘condition’, this problem? I was only doing my job!”

Haddock had no comforting response he could give the young man. Considering you used to get bashed on the head practically every five minutes, it’s no wonder that it caught up with you in the end. Instead, he kept his thoughts private and reached over the dining table to give his friend a pat on the hand. “Every day when I see you, I think the same thing over and over: I’m just grateful that you’re still alive, lad.”

Tintin’s eyes had watered furiously at that statement, even though he refused to let them spill over. I can’t cry; I can handle this.

Every morning he awoke and catch sight of the bottle of painkillers that remained untouched on his bedside table.

Every morning he thought about taking one, before he decided otherwise.

I can handle it.

I’ve always handled it.

I have to handle it.

#tintin #the adventures of tintin #adventures of tintin #fanfic #fanfiction #whumptober #whumptober2022 #whumptober 2022

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alloftheimaginesblog · 3 years ago

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Life Without Colour (PART FIVE)

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Note: ignore that i don’t even question bucky being able to get through security at the airport, i couldn’t think of how he would be able to get through the airport security bc of his metal arm so i’ve skipped that detail completely. i hope it doesn’t detract from the story!

this is nearly 6000 words!

Taglist: @domainoflostsouls forgetthisbull handon-h-art yourspecialcrush giulsgotmusic mrsbarnes-rogers luosymekawa linzeyzarcone forgetthisbull calamityreads talgra marina-darling btsforlif lamoursansfin classic1985 lovesicksofi fandomsfallnomore thebivirgin classygladiatorcupcake

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours. You had long since stopped trying to figure out what state you were in and where you were headed. Bucky had been driving non-stop aside from two bathroom breaks at a small gas station in the middle of nowhere. You had stopped crying a long time ago, too drained and too tired to continue. You felt horrendous. You hated this, you absolutely hated this but you had no choice in the matter. The car had been silent for the whole way aside from the quiet chatter on the radio. Bucky hadn’t wanted to speak in fear of upsetting you further. He had been driving you out of state to go to an airport that would be a little harder to find. It had been Fury’s idea, to go to an airport that Hydra wouldn’t look for straight away. It gave you a little more time to get away without being watched.

You took a break from watching the blur of trees and roads to glance at the clock on the dashboard; 13:42. You hadn’t eaten yet, barely had anything to drink either and you knew that you weren’t far away from a dehydration migraine. As if on cue, your stomach rumbled loudly. Bucky, without speaking, reached behind his car seat and produced a rucksack and dumped it on your lap with a, “Here. There’s water and some snacks in there. We’ll get a proper meal when we’re at the airport.”

You dug through the bag, producing two bottles of water. You opened one and offered it to Bucky, he accepted with a nod, draining half before handing it back to you. You offered him a muffin but he shook his head. You dropped the bag to between your feet and began to have your water and muffin. It helped curb the hunger, at least for a while, and you felt a lot better once you had something in your stomach. After a while, you sank back into your seat with a yawn.

Bucky glanced over at you, “We’ve still got a few hours to drive, you can sleep if you want.” You looked at him and he gave you a small smile, “It’s okay. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”

You thanked him quietly before closing your eyes. It didn’t take long before you fell asleep and your soft snores filled the car. Bucky looked at you for a couple of seconds, smiling to himself. Man, it’s gonna be a long few weeks.

It only felt like you’d closed your eyes for a few minutes when Bucky was saying your name, gently shaking your shoulder. Groggily, you opened your eyes to meet his blue eyes and it almost gave you a fright seeing them. Sometimes it still surprised you to see colour and especially when Bucky was around... colour seemed to be brighter and those deeper blue eyes seemed so bright in person.

“We’re here,” he said, pulling back quickly, not wanting to upset you by being too close. Bucky was very careful of boundaries, he always had been but especially after the Winter Soldier incidents. He knew what it felt like to not want to be touched or have your personal space invaded so he was always careful to not overstep.

“You’ve got the fake passports and stuff, don’t you?” You asked him, yawning and stretching in your seat.

He nodded and told you that they’re in his bag. In order to help the process of becoming anonymous, Fury had fake IDs and fake passports made for the two of you. They’d even gone so far as to create two new backstories for the pair of you just in case anyone ever questioned the pair of you. You and Bucky got out of the car, your legs ached from having sat in the car for hours upon hours. It was dark outside now, you didn’t know the time. Bucky grabbed the bags out of the car and handed you the two passports to hold. As you walked into the airport, you flicked to it. Miss Jane Smith and Mr John Smith. Two very common and obvious fake names but you hoped that it wouldn’t be picked up.

The check in process was much easier than you anticipated, the passports passed the ID checks and soon, the two of you were through security and heading for the food outlet. Bucky had told you to keep your head down for most of the time and to avoid direct eye contact with cameras. The airport was relatively quiet which was good in the sense you didn’t have to worry about people around you noticing Bucky. Bucky led you to a small café which was quiet and the two of you sat at the back. Everything was kind of passing in a blur and it only seemed like a few seconds until Bucky was back with your food.

You began to eat in silence and it was then you realised where you were going, “Estonia?” You asked quietly, making sure to not be overhead.

Bucky nodded as he took a bite of his burger, “Managed to find a secluded house, already furnished. The owner agreed to let us stay for a discounted price as well.”

“I’ve never been,” you shrugged, taking a bite of your food, “Where are we right now?”

“Pittsburg,” he said, glancing around the café to make sure no one was taking notice of the pair of you, “Steve thought it would be a good idea to leave from an airport a few hours away from New York. Hydra and Rumlow would check New York airports first once they realise you’re out of town.”

You smiled sadly as you looked down to your food. Leave it to Steve to think of everything. Bucky told you that the flight would be leaving in an hour and it would be a long ass flight but it was okay because you were exhausted and you could absolutely sleep for a good portion of the flight anyway.

You sighed, “When can I take this stupid disguise off? I’m so uncomfortable!”

Bucky studied you carefully, “When we’re in the safe house.”

“Do I look stupid? I feel stupid.”

“You look... different. Not bad just different,” he paused before speaking again, “I prefer you as you are though, without the wig, contacts and flashy clothes. I think you look much better when you’re being yourself.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that with anything other than a nod. It felt foreign and wrong to receive a compliment from him, even though it was a genuine, friendly compliment, it felt wrong. The two of you didn’t say much after that.

After eating, you and Bucky went to get some plane snacks. You grabbed some water and some treats, you also wandered to the book section and picked up a book. As you were walking to the books, you saw a little boy and girl pass wearing matching Captain America t-shirts. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched them pass. It seemed to hit you in that moment that this was real and this was truly happening.

“(y/n)?” Bucky asked appearing behind you.

You turned to him, “Sorry... I just can’t believe this is happening.”

Bucky nodded before gesturing to the check out, “Let’s get this all checked out and then hopefully we’ll be able to go to our departure gate.” He didn’t really know how to help you without overstepping or potentially upsetting you. He didn’t want you to get upset in public so he thought that he could keep you distracted and that would help ease your worries. It helped, having him there to guide you and distract you from possible sad thoughts helped a lot actually.

You found your airplane seats quick, the two of you were bang smack in the middle and you were both in a two seater section. Bucky let you go in first, saying that he preferred not to look out of the window when taking a flight. You sunk into it, keeping your head down and wrapping your arms around yourself to get warmer. As Bucky sat beside you, tapping his foot and his hand on the armrest impatiently, you looked at him curiously, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “Just... not a big fan of flying.”

You pulled out the magazines which were in the pocket of the chair in front of you and handed him them, “I find that reading the safety procedures always helps. Also reading the magazine where you can just check out the meal deals and the perfume deals help a bit.”

Bucky took them off of you and began to flick through them. In the meantime, you closed your eyes. As the plane began to move, Bucky tensed beside you and you opened your eyes to look at him, his hands were clenched around the arms of the chair, jaw clenched too.

“Hey, show me that,” you said, sitting up straighter and pointing to the magazine. He looked at you and then handed it to you. Bucky had been helping you out by distracting you from being sad, the least you could do is distract him from being anxious. You leaned over, probably a little closer than you would’ve felt comfortable with in normal circumstances. Bucky stiffened as he smelled your perfume when you came closer. You took no notice of the closeness.

“Look at that!” You said, pointing to the menu that they were offering that night on the flight, “What would you have?” Bucky shrugged and you rolled your eyes, “C’mon. I’d have the chicken curry and the cheese and ham panini and then I would absolutely have the tiramisu afterwards. What about you?” You held it closer to him for him to study.

“Uh... I mean, I suppose the lasagne sounds nice. The breaded mushrooms too, I like those. Never had tiramisu but it sounds nice enough so I’d give that a go too.”

“No way,” you said shaking your head, “I would order the tiramisu and you would order the chocolate and raspberry mousse and we’d share them both.”

Bucky snorted slightly, “Sure thing, whatever you want.”

You flicked through more of the pages, “Ooooh,” you said noticing the deals on the perfumes, “I love airplane and airport deals. I only ever buy my perfume from duty free, honestly. No point in buying it full price anywhere else.”

“I still find it crazy that there’s a shop on an airplane.”

You nodded, “I mean, it’s pretty weird but I’m not complaining about the deals. Some of the stuff you can buy is so bizarre though. I was on this flight once, going on holiday with my family when I was younger, and they were selling t-shirts with a picture of the airplane we were in on them saying ‘I rode in this plane and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’.”

“That sounds like it’s a total dad shirt,” Bucky laughed slightly. He looked a lot younger when he smiled. He was always so stony and serious but when he smiled or laughed, it knocked years off him. He was already a handsome man but when he smiled, he was just... wow.

You burst out laughing as he said it, “My dad did buy it and he wore it so proudly!”

Bucky laughed with you, finding his nerves easing up as he spoke to you. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to you about anything other than the fact you were soulmates so it felt rather nice to talk to you on another level. It was still prettty strange but it was nice. Steve always told him that you were easy to get along with so he wasn’t too surprised. As you continued to chat, you gasped audibly when you came to the ‘collectibles and merchandise’ page, “There it is!”

“No way!” Bucky grinned as he looked down at the picture of the t-shirt exactly like the one you described, “Oh, god, it’s hideous.” The two of you lapsed into laughter again, talking and looking at it before Bucky happened to glance out of the window, “We’re in the air?”

You looked out, “Yeah, we took off about fifteen minutes ago actually.” Bucky breathed out an impressed laughter, “My distraction technique always works. Keep the mind occupied on something else like the ugliest t-shirts in the world.”

Bucky smiled, “Thank you and thanks to the ugliest t-shirt ever-” it was then that a man wearing the exact t-shirt you had been slating got up from the seat in front of you and shot you a dirty look as he walked past, “Oh, shit.” It was hard to keep your laughter in but somehow you both managed it.

As you calmed down, Bucky sighed, “No, really, thank you for that.”

You smiled as you handed him the magazines back and sunk back into your seat, “And now, I sleep.”

When you woke up a few hours later, you found yourself to be sitting alone with no Bucky Barnes in sight. You looked up to see a flight attendant coming down the aisle, “Excuse me,” you said with a smile, “do you know where the man sitting next to me went?”

She smiled, the same warm smile that every flight attendant has, “Yes, your husband is in the queue for the toilet, he should be back in a few minutes.”

You nodded, she went to leave when you caught her again, “Sorry, can you do me a favour?”

When Bucky came back, he was pleasantly surprised to see you sitting awake, smiling at him, “Good sleep?” You nodded, “Don’t worry, you didn’t snore... too loud.”

Your cheeks burned as he teased you, “Shove it, Barnes,” you scoffed, “I bought us a present.”

He frowned, “A present?”

You grinned as you held up two t-shirts, the exact same one that you both said was the ugliest shirt in the world, “No way!” He laughed, clapping his gloved hands together, “Oh my god, they’re worse in person.”

You laughed as you handed him his, “You’re so welcome. I will make us wear these at some point by the way, don’t think you’re getting out of it.” You’d never seen Bucky smile so wide with pure joy radiating from him. It was nice to see; it made you feel a lot better about the situation that was happening. You and Bucky hadn’t broached the subject of being the other’s soulmates, you actually really didn’t want to have that conversation anytime soon, but it was nice to know that at least you got on a little bit.

The fact that the pair of you were laughing so soon felt wrong. It felt like you were betraying Steve for merely getting along but it was nice. You were scared of what was going to happen and Bucky had been anxious about flying so the pair of you had nothing to do but talk to each other. Sure, it wasn’t a particularly interesting conversation but it was something. It was still a little awkward and a little weird at times but you could look past that for a few minutes to just appreciate the fact that Bucky was doing this.

Soon, you were curled back into your plane seat, your own jacket draped across you, “Thanks,” you said quietly as sleep began to take over, “for doing this for Steve. I know that it’s not ideal and I know you probably don’t want to be stuck with me for weeks. I appreciate it, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded and didn’t say anything. I’m not doing it for only Steve, I’m doing it for you too. He watched you for a moment longer before closing his own eyes and resting into his own seat.

The rest of the flight went by in a blur, you slept some more, read your book and ate some food. It wasn’t long before it was time to land and Bucky could not have been more happy than in the moment the wheels of the plane landed on the runway. The airport was a relatively quiet which meant that security and getting your bags was a lot faster than anticipated.

Soon, you were waiting with Bucky in line to get a rental car. To your surprise, when it was your turn to speak to the receptionist, Bucky slid a wad of cash over the counter, “I want a car to keep and I want it off book.”

The receptionist, who was a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair, eyed Bucky with narrow eyes and Bucky stared right back at him. You glanced between the two men wondering who would give up the staring contest first. After a pregnant pause, the receptionist shrugged and dug around in the drawer next to him before pulling out a car key, “Grey sedan in Lot C, registration plate ends with RUS. It’s old and a little worse for wear but for this price, best I can do.” He glanced from left to right before sliding the keys across the table. Apparently he seemed to accept the bribe. You raised your eyebrows, looking between the man and Bucky.

Bucky thanked him with a nod before taking the keys and picked up his and one of your bags before walking away with you in tow, “Wait,” you said quietly, rushing to keep up with him, “You just bought a car?!”

Bucky nodded, “We needed a car. This one will do for a while, keeps us off of the radar for a while.”

Finding the car was easy, the hard part was trying to keep up with Bucky. He took long, quick strides that were hard to keep up with. The car was parked alone in Lot C. It was a little old, with some dents and scratches in the doors from previous bumps and accidents and some of the paint had chipped but aside from that, it seemed to be fine. Bucky loaded the bags in the trunk before getting into the driver’s seat. You settled into your seat and Bucky said that it would be a forty minute drive but could do it in half the time if the road’s were quiet. Then, you both set off.

You couldn’t stop staring out of the window, looking at every single detail of Estonia. It seemed like a dream that you’d be waking up from any second now. Your hands fidgeted with your jacket sleeves as you stared out to the vast unknown. What would become of you and your relationship, you had no idea. You didn’t know what was going to happen and you had absolutely no clue where you would be going. A wave of uneasiness crashed over you as you tried to swallow down the nausea.

The drive seemed to simultaneously be the longest and shortest drive ever. Seconds felt like years and minutes felt like nanoseconds. You just wanted things to go back to how they were two months ago when things were easy and simple and life was without colour. You glanced over at Bucky, wishing that it had been anyone besides him that was your soulmate. Bucky was a decent enough guy from the short time you’d been with him, I mean, he was willing to take you to a safe house for god knows how long after meeting each other less than three times so obviously he was a good guy but... even if you and Bucky ended up friends, ended up falling in love... nothing could ever happen. You just couldn’t do that to Steve.

Oh, Steve.

You wondered what he would be doing just now. He would probably be in the gym with Sam, boxing his feelings and emotions about the whole situation out. That’s what he usually did when things were tense or when he was stressed, he would go to the gym and work out for hours. Sam would usually go with him, being his comic relief to make things less stressful for him. You had never been so thankful for Sam Wilson than in that moment of realisation. You had been so focused on what this meant for you and how this would affect you that you’d practically overlooked your boyfriend’s feelings.

Steve would be blaming your kidnapping on himself, even though it wasn’t his fault that Hydra were dickheads. He would be devastated that he’d had to send you off with your soulmate, knowing fine well that you could easily come back home in love with Bucky. It had been so hard for Steve to make that decision but it had to be done. He wished that he could’ve came with you but it was his mess to clean up and he couldn’t just let his friends do it. He wasn’t that selfish even though he wished he could have been. Steve would rely on Sam pretty heavily over the coming weeks. Sam had been such a good friend to Steve in the few years they’d known each other. Sam understood Steve, they shared the same values and same morals and that was something you liked about Sam. Sam wasn’t afraid to stand up and fight for what was right. You knew that Steve would be in good hands with Sam at his side.

Little did you know, Bucky was thinking of Steve Rogers too as he drove. It was surreal that he was driving with you, through Estonia, to a safe house where you’d be for weeks, potentially months. It scared Bucky, honestly. He liked you, not in a romantic way (yet), but he had heard all about you from Steve. All of those months that Bucky was in Wakanda, Steve called every week to check on him. Every week, Steve would talk about you. He remembered the things he would say about you. ‘She’s great, Buck. She’s got this smile, this really wide smile that I’ve only seen a handful of people have in my life. You know the one I mean. That genuinely happy, makes you smile when you see it smile.’, ‘You gotta meet her, Bucky. She’s everything I’ve been looking for and even though we’re not soulmates, we are.’, ‘It’s crazy. After Peggy, I never thought I’d fall in love again but (y/n) came into my life when I needed her most. Every day, I wake up thankful for her. My god, you have to meet her. You two will get on so well. She keeps my on my toes and is hilarious.’

Bucky glanced at you, a familiar pang of guilt shooting through him. You were his best friend’s girl and he could never do anything to pursue you because he cared about Steve too much. Steve was the one person who had given him a chance and had stuck by him through everything. Steve deserved you, Bucky didn’t.

It wasn’t long before Bucky pulled into a driveway. You looked around, realising that you were deep in the woods. It was an off road cabin that seemed to be pretty far from civilisation, “This is it.” Bucky cut the engine before getting out of the car. You stayed put, staring at the cabin in front of you. From the outside, it looked a little run down but very liveable. It was made with a dark oak wood which blended in well with the trees. Passers by would have to do a double take at first because of how well it blended in.

You got out of the car, grabbing the rucksack that had been by your feet. Bucky appeared beside you, carrying all of his and your bags, “Ready?”

You didn’t look at him, eyes stuck on the cabin in front of you. This was it. This was your future. You were unusually terrified as you stared at it. As soon as you stepped into that cabin, your future would change forever. Everything would change. Life as you knew it with Steve would completely change as soon as you walked into that cabin. With your heart beating fast, you took a breath and nodded, following him up the stony path and to the front door. He unlocked it and swung the door open before disappearing inside. You hesitated at the front door, staring at the line on the floor to mark the cabin’s entrance.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered before stepping into the cabin and closing the door behind you.

The cabin had an old musty smell to it, the smell of emptiness. Clearly, no one had lived here for a long time. The décor was simple and pretty outdated but it was nice. Bucky had flicked the lights on throughout the cabin and was checking each room just to double check. You wandered through each room. The living room was simple with a couple of recliners and a small couch with a small TV on an old coffee table. You’d be surprised if the TV still worked with a thick layer of dust coating it. There was a large fireplace in the middle of the side wall which would be nice on a cold night. The kitchen was nice with everything that the pair of you would need to get started in the wooden cupboards and on shelves. It had a small table in the corner of the room, looking out of the window. Bucky told you that tomorrow, he would go get some shopping and food supplies until then you had the water and a few more snacks.

Next, you ventured into the bedrooms. Yours and Bucky’s separate bedrooms were adjacent to each other. Bucky had dropped his bags in the slightly smaller room. You went to object but the look on his face told you not to even bother. Bucky’s room was smaller yet still spacious enough for a double bed and a wardrobe. Your room was pretty much the same though as well as a wardrobe you had the chest of drawers as well. The shared bathroom was beside your room and it was... well, it was just an outdated bathroom. And that was it.

The cabin wasn’t particularly big or luxurious but it was much than you had expected. You seriously were expecting to sleep on the floor on a bug infested hotel but Bucky had done pretty good. You’d long since abandoned your disguise, feeling much better when looking like yourself. As you wandered around again, checking cupboards, finding extra duvets and pillows in the wardrobe in your room, you remembered something important. You dug around in your bags until you found it; a picture frame. Bucky knocked on your bedroom door. You turned to him, “You don’t need to knock,” you said.

“Come so I can show you something.”

You followed him into the living room as you held the picture frame in your hands. He stopped in front of a painting on the wall moving the painting to reveal a safe, “Oh, wow,” you said surprised.

“I got this safe installed and I’m putting this gun inside it, okay?” He told you, taking a gun from his back pocket. You jumped slightly, not expecting him to wield a weapon in front of you, “This is for emergencies, got it? I’ll teach you how to use it but for now, I’m locking it up in here, okay?”

“I don’t want to use a gun-”

“Neither do I,” Bucky said, cutting over you, “but I have to at least show you how to use it just in case, okay? The code is 0407-”

“Steve’s birthday.”

Bucky faltered before nodding and continuing, “Yeah, Steve’s birthday. Type that in,” he typed it in, “and it’ll unlock.” He dropped the gun inside of it before closing it over, “Re-type the code and it locks. Got it?”

You nodded.

“I always have at least one weapon on me at all times, okay? I have my gun and I have my knife. I’m only putting this here and showing you just in case, okay? We’ll probably never have to use it but it’s just in case something happens, just so I know that if I can’t get to you, you can have some way to protect yourself.”

Again, you nodded. Bucky eyed you carefully, making sure that you were okay with this. You didn’t really know how to feel about it. You weren’t surprised that he had weapons but it scared you the thought of you having to use them. Hopefully it would never come to that though. He could see the toll this was taking on you and you’d barely been gone a day. He was about to ask what you had in your hands when you wandered over to the fireplace and put the photo atop. It was a photo that you had once upon a time hated. It was you and Steve laughing as you posed for a picture in front of your Christmas tree. Nat had taken it on Christmas Eve. You wore a dress that hugged your curves a little too tightly for your liking but Steve had loved to see you in that dress. He always said the colour complimented your complexion so well and now that you could actually see colour, you could see where he was coming from. You loved that picture now, you remembered the night fondly where he twirled you around, telling you how beautiful you were every other minute. So yeah, you could see your protruding stomach and your bigger arms but you loved it. You smiled as you looked at Steve’s smile, heart soaring as you looked at him. Steve could make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. With him, you truly believed it. Your weight never defined your worth, you defined it.

Almost instantly, Bucky lunged for it, grabbing it and almost tumbling into you, “What the fuck?!” You hissed, leaping backwards. You hadn’t expected the dark haired super soldier to lunge from across the room, almost knocking you off of your feet to grab the picture frame down.

Bucky released a sharp breath, “The window,” he said gruffly. He pulled the curtains shut quickly, “We can’t put any photos up.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

He rolled his eyes, Steve had warned him that you could be stubborn, “In case we’re being watched. If someone’s tailing us, they might look through the window and have our identities confirmed if we put photos up.”

You rolled your eyes, “If someone’s tailing us then I’m pretty sure that they know our identities already. Give me it back.”

“Fine but you’re not putting it there,” Bucky said.

You glared at him as a bubble of anger boiled in your stomach, “My god, how am I meant to stay here with you for weeks if you’re such an arse over a photo?!”

“Yeah?” Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t have to come here, (y/n). I came because Steve asked. I came for you.”

You were breathing heavy as you glared at each other, “Yeah well maybe I don’t want you here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be here!”

“Keep the stupid picture.” You turned on your heel and stormed into your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. You knew that you weren’t angry at Bucky, you knew that the two of you were tired and hungry. You knew that you were a flurry of emotions from having your life flipped upside down. You knew that Bucky was looking out for your safety but you were pissed and he was the only person near you so he would have to deal with it.

Bucky sighed heavily as he fell onto the couch, pursing his lips and pinching the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Steve, she’s fucking brilliant.

It was hours later when you rolled over with a huff. Sleep wasn’t coming easily. You were still too pissed off and because you were still so pissed off, you were only getting more annoyed. You knew that if the anger faded, you’d probably end up crying and you didn’t know which was worse so you just stayed angry. You wished that Bucky would’ve just been able to talk to you normally instead of treating you like a child. You would’ve absolutely understood the picture fiasco had he not leapt over the table and yanked it like a dog stealing someone’s dinner from the table.

You sat up in bed. Usually, if you couldn’t sleep you’d watch TV or go on your phone but you didn’t feel up for watching the tiny TV in the living room and you obviously didn’t have a phone so you couldn’t do much than think. You’d need to see if there was a cheap CD player and CDs in town so that you could at least have some background noise. The cabin was eerily quiet at night. It was a different surrounding in a different country and everything just felt a little uneasy. You were used to New York where the hustle and bustle was part of every day life but the woods was so quiet aside from the rustling trees... it would take some getting used to.

With a huff, you grabbed your dressing gown from the bag on the floor and made your way into the kitchen. You grabbed a glass and filled it with water before taking a long drink. You didn’t know why you wandered into the living room but you found yourself venturing in and it was then you noticed, in the dim light from the moon, you saw a note and the picture of you and Steve that sat on the coffee table in front of the TV. You picked up the note.

I’m sorry about freaking out over the picture, it’s been a long day. Steve warned me you were stubborn but I wasn’t prepared, I guess. Let’s not put it on the fire place until we’re absolutely sure that no one’s tracking us. Until then, it can go here where it’s not facing a window. Hope that’s okay. It is a lovely picture of you and Steve... Again, sorry. - Bucky

You smiled slightly as you read it before slipping the note into your dressing gown pocket and going back to bed. So Bucky Barnes was decent after all.

#reader insert #life without colour #lwc #plus size series #plus size reader #reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes/reader #steve rogers/reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #marvel #avengers

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years ago

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The Brothers and Side Characters Play Ticket To Ride

Guess who just had a family game night and decided this would be a good idea? Meeeeee!

Last Minute Road/Track Buyer (Lucifer)

This smug son of a bitch doesn’t even complete his trip cards. He just amasses a massive deck of cards and then buys all of the five and six roads, effectively messing up everyone’s strategies.

Luci would have a good poker face if it weren’t for how giddy he gets when he sees the hope drain from his opponents faces as he takes the coveted fifteen point six road.

His main colour is black because he’s an emo bitch.

Lucifer can and Lucifer will take that two road you need to connect your trains, thus ruining everyone’s lives.

He basks in the chaos and rage like a god before Beel tells him that he’s eaten all the game night chips.

He’ll win sometimes, but his lack of trip cards will often be his downfall. Lucifer is just here to fuck everyone over.

FUCK YOU! DON’T YOU DARE TAKE THAT CARD- (Mammon)

Mammon’s greedy little heart sank when he heard that Monopoly had been passed over for family game night, but he caught onto the rules of Ticket to Ride very quickly.

Being the gambler he is, Mammon’s poker face is completely god-tier… except when he has all the cards needed to make his road or someone else takes the cards he needs.

Levi is often the main culprit and fights have started over this.

He argues with the rules a lot if he thinks they’re stupid, this gives Satan a migraine.

Mammon doesn’t save his cards, the moment he has all the ones he needs, he’s buying his road, which is good at the beginning, but often leads to him ending up with no cards by the end.

He is SO insufferable when he wins, please beat him so we don’t have to hear him gloat like an asshole.

Rule-Whore (Leviathan)

“That’s against the rules!” “You can’t have more than three wild cards in the draw pile!” “You need to take three trip cards!”

…so annoying…

Levi is such a rule whore he’ll try and take the instructions from Satan, which will usually result in Levi getting socked in the jaw.

He mains blue because obviously.

Levi tends to plan out his route ahead of time, but he makes it too obvious and his roads end up getting sniped, thus rendering all the cards he had amassed completely useless.

He gets super iffy about his trains being in perfect formation both on and off the board.

Beat his ass for being annoying.

Ha! I’ve Planned for This- Aw Fuck…(Satan)

You fool, you stupid human, Satan had planned out his route ten years before the first turn even happened!

All he has to do now is- DID LUCIFER JUST SNIPE HIS FUCKING ROAD?!

…he’s cool, he’s calm. He can work around this. Satan just has to get the cards he needs- SON OF A BITCH MAMMON WHY’D YOU TAKE BOTH THE ORANGES?!

Worried about your asshole fellow players not giving you your points? Fret not, Satan has everyone’s points memorized and will adjust accordingly. He’s winning this fair and square.

Satan manages to win pretty frequently solely because he picks up so many trip cards and completes a good chunk of them.

Satan mains green because I said so.

Annoying Spectator (Asmodeus)

For the love of God Asmo, you aren’t even playing! Shut up and go away!

He leans over people’s shoulders and criticizes their choices like the world’s most annoying guardian angel… or demon.

“Pick up red.” “Asmo, piss off.” “I’m just trying to help, Belphie! Look, Mammon’s gone and taken your road!” “I DIDN’T EVEN NEED THAT ONE!”

When Asmo does play, he doesn’t play well at all, he just has the worst luck with cards and has the worst poker face.

If someone just took a card that Asmo needed, they are going to get glared at from across the table.

Almost never wins, but when he does, he’s INSUFFERABLE.

“It’s so nice to have the family together :)” (Beel)

Sweet man is just happy everyone’s together, he’s also happy about the multiple party size bags of chips that are on the table.

Beel builds his roads from point A to point B, no fancy skipping or strategies. This often serves him quite well because he can just shift where he’s going on the fly.

Though, he does get confused on where some of the locations are, he’ll end up accidentally cheating and looking at people’s cards when he leans over to see the whole board to try and find out where TF he’s going.

He tries to complete every trip card he has, and he mostly succeeds at that, buuuuut he never thinks to pick up more, which is his downfall.

He mains red, because Duh.

Overall, Beel’s a surprisingly formidable opponent, his resting bitch face serves him well.

“*Snrk* H-huh? What the fuck… what’d I knock over? Where am I? Whose turn is it?” (Belphie)

This little shit- THIS LITTLE BASTARD FUCKS EVERYTHING UP. He falls asleep and when anyone wakes him up for his turn, he “accidentally” knocks everyone’s trains off the board.

He’s doing terribly. Don’t help him.

Belphie loses motivation the moment someone ruins his carefully formulated plan, and making a new one’s too much work so… *snore*

He takes what he can get with the trip cards, he’ll complete the smaller ones and kind of eyeball the big ones and make it up as he goes along if everything goes to shit.

If Belphie gets bored, he’ll purposefully break the rules just to piss of Levi and Satan. He’s a little goblin…

Belphie wins when he puts the work in… which is never.

…Wait what? (Diavolo)

Diavolo is literally the worst at this game at first. He’s picking up two wild cards when he’s not supposed to, he’s buying roads when it’s not his turn, he somehow messed up the points, ugh…

He gets really confused about the rules, he’ll often interrupt people mid-turn to ask a question that spirals into a long explanation.

But when he finally understands the game… May the demon king have mercy on your souls…

He goes from zero to hero and crushes everyone without fail.

It doesn’t matter if he had shitty luck in the beginning because he’s come back to completely ruin your entire route.

Oh, Solomon needed that road? Too bad. It belongs to Diavolo now. Give him his fucking points.

Peace between the realms can wait, he’s got noobs to pwn.

The Wise Mentor (Barbatos)

Barbatos can see the future, he’s cheating by default.

When he sort of… turns off his powers, people still think he’s cheating because he’s just that good at guessing where people need to go and crushing their hopes and dreams.

Except for Luke. Barbatos is teaching him how to be as brutal a player as he is. He will not crush Luke.

As good a player as Barbatos is, one bad trip card will crush his entire strategy. This may be the one time you hear him swear.

It’s a very quiet “son of a bitch..”

Cheater. Asshole. Fight instigator. (Solomon)

Okay who the fuck invited this guy?

Better question, who the fuck let him be in charge of the cards?

Solomon cheats and lies about it, all with a smile on his face. Think you caught him? No you didn’t.

He peeks at cards before he grabs them, gives people the worst possible ones for what they’re doing, AND he gets potato chip grease all over the cards!

When he’s no my allowed to cheat, Solomon’s only half decent at the game overall. Luck is usually on his side, but sometimes luck isn’t enough.

0/10 kick his shifty ass out.

“No, stop,” *Pulls out popcorn* “Don’t fight, oh no.” (Simeon)

Fucking Simeon… he sits back and watches the fight even though he knows he can stop it.

When he’s playing the actual game, he’s pretty average, but when he gets on a roll, oh boy…

He doesn’t snipe roads on purpose, but he’s gotta get where he’s going. Sorry not sorry, may the good lord bless your loser ass.

Sexy shoulder-man’s poker face isn’t anything special, it’s 5/7 overall.

Simeon’s fatal flaw is that he picks up cards only when he needs them, he doesn’t plan ahead, so it’s super easy to swipe the cards he needs before his turn.

He is nice enough to move everyone’s points for them^.^ so he’s better than the rest of those dirty sinners.

“NO PLEASE I NEED THAT ROAD-” (Luke)

So you know how everyone is an awful person? This is proven whenever the gang plays Ticket to Ride with Luke.

Luke demands/begs that no one takes the roads he needs and almost no one listens.

It’s heartbreaking to watch please give the little angel a hug.

But listen, listen, after a bit, Luke gets scary good at the game and very close to winning. His little victory dance is so fucking cute 10/10.

But oh my… it appears that Luke has one tiny road he needs to connect his trains… it would be a shame if Lucifer just… took that.

Luke gets petty, he just puts his hand over the spot and refuses to move it. This goes on for like five minutes until Levi brings up that it’s not even Lucifer’s turn.

Gasp! Hope! It’s Solomon’s turn- HE TOOK THE FUCKING ROAD.

…betrayal.

Luke’s moving out. He can’t go back to Purgatory Hall. He’s going to become the little Victorian street urchin he was destined to become. He is packing his little rucksack and fleeing from this household.

————

I love family game nights… all of you should get together with your family and your squad and break out some board games. Just not Monopoly. Anything but Monopoly…

#obey me #Obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me! headcanons #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Diavolo #Obey Me Barbatos #Obey me Solomon #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Luke

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koiblossom5 · 3 years ago

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tr characters at a sleepover

takemichi: probably the most normal one, which is not a good sign. he’s the type to chomp down aggressively on popcorn during scary movies bc that’s how scared he is. he’s also the first one to pass out, making him the ideal target for pranks (courtesy of mikey, smiley, and kazutora)

mikey: oh god oh fuck. this very violent gremlin will hog all of the snacks, and by all, I mean ALL of them (he’s willing to lend takemichi the popcorn though). nobody can get any sleep bc this little shit snores louder than a vacuum cleaner, much to everyone’s annoyance. oh and the nasty ass creature that’s stealing all of the food in your fridge at night? that’s not your sleep paralysis demon. that’s just mikey with his stupid 3 am snacking.

draken: takes on the role as mikey’s impulse control, but only because no one else will do it. everyone cuddles up toward him during the scary movie because he’s strong and has a very reassuring presence. by the end of the movie, he can’t feel either of his arms or legs. he’ll be willing to buy extra snacks from the local dollar store just so he can get away from mikey.

baji: honestly? just as annoying as mikey. he’s ready to get wild, and constantly squabbles over the snacks with mikey (but he’s willing to share with chifuyu). he lets emma play with his hair while he gets his nails done by chifuyu. before sleeping, everyone has to roll baji up into a blanket burrito because this mf will NOT stop kicking in his sleep. have you ever been strangled in your sleep? oh don’t worry that’s probably just baji dreaming of choking kisaki to death

chifuyu: sneaks peke j in because he can’t sleep without his cat. thankfully, he’s one of the calmer people, probably second to takemichi. he also brings over his nail polish and offers to do everyone’s nails! oh uh, ignore the barfing noises in the background: that’s just chifuyu after he’s eaten one pop tart too many. given up on sleep yet?

mitsuya: he’s willing to be more chill. he loves his sisters, but it’s practically a gift from heaven having one night to himself. he brings all of the snacks, much to mikey’s delight. he’s also probably surprisingly calm during the scary movie, but only because he had a weird but short phase sometime during middle school where he would watch nothing but horror movies. it explains a lot about luna and mana’s upbringing, actually. he’ll try to get inui to model in some clothes for him, much to hakkai’s jealously.

hakkai: slightly bummed because mikey has a super tight grip on the snacks and won’t seem to share (it’s fine, draken is going to get some more). also, mitsuya is asking someone ELSE to model for him, which he seriously can’t stand. luckily, he has someone to rant to (ahem, angry) while he gets his nails done by chifuyu. he’s terrified out of his mind during the movie, screaming really loudly during the jump scares. it’s an odd sight: hakkai’s six foot ass cowering behind mitsuya, who’s calmly munching on some popcorn with takemichi without batting an eye.

pah chin: don’t tell koko, but he somehow managed to sneak his dog, pochi into the fucking house. chifuyu’s not the only one who can’t sleep without his pet. peh-yan is the only one who knows pochi is there. they hide pochi in a closet, occasionally feeding pochi some leftover snacks that mikey hasn’t claimed yet. it’s literally the worst kept secret because these two share a collective brain cell, but somehow no one has noticed yet because there’s too much chaos going on. unfortunately, the closet they hide pochi in just happens to be where koko’s shoes and fancy clothes are stored. don’t worry! koko doesn’t find out until the very next morning, or the morning after THAT, because he’s so exhausted he literally passes out for two days. that’s how much of a headache these dumbasses are

peh yan: nervously helps pah-chin smuggle pochi inside koko’s house. he nearly spills the secret like three times to five different people, but everyone thinks he’s joking. he works off the stress by playing (several) rounds of mario kart with smiley, who is unsurprisingly good at it. after the end of his rage-quit, the TV’s shattered and broken, the consoles are split into two, and koko’s headache turns into a migraine.

smiley (nahoya): whatever you do, do NOT turn your back on this fucking demon. he’s all ready to party and get wild, and by party, he means pranking the shit out of everyone at least once. he’s already got to takemichi literally after he just stepped into the house with the classic bucket prank. takemichi seems to be his favorite target by far, partially because he’s so easy to prank. he reluctantly stops filling the water balloons with boiling hot water only because mitsuya catches him in the act. did I mention that his son of a bitch craves violence?

angry (souya): kind of becomes everyone’s therapist for tonight. he sympathetically listens to his friends’ ranting, purely because he just wants all the tea (keeping a secret? forget it. he’s gonna spill to smiley like ten seconds later anyways). during the water balloon fight, he grabs a giant nerf gun instead, which automatically makes him the winner because everyone’s desperately trying to escape his carnage. after all, he was closest to winning smiley’s paintball party last year.

koko: man I feel so sorry for this guy. everyone chooses his fancy-ass mansion for the location of their sleepover (without permission because permission is for weak ass nerds ofc ). his blood stress and headache is higher than usual, which is saying something. you know that feeling when you’ve had a busy day at school, and your backpack is so fucking heavy it’s practically killing your spine, neck and shoulders? that’s what he’s feeling right now, but worse. don’t worry, everyone trashed his house, but paying for the property damage will barely scratch his bank account.

inui: it’s a little awkward for him because he’s rarely slept over at someone else’s house (other than koko’s), and he isn’t quite close to the others yet. he pointedly avoids other people (mitsuya, who he literally whacked over the head with a baseball bat, hakkai, because he used to be taiju’s subordinate, mikey. because mikey made it very clear that he doesn’t like inui very much, and koko, because fuck you, read the manga). he sticks close to draken’s side and kind of just follows him everywhere until draken tells him to get to know the others better. that leads to him chatting quietly with takemichi, who seems to welcome him. chifuyu’s very eager to paint his nails (red, because it’s the colour of mitsuya’s blood after he got whammied in the head!). mitsuya is determined to make inui his new model project (again, much to hakkai’s envy and distress), and tries to talk to him, which makes inui avoid him because he’s worried that mitsuya’s going to confront him. luckily, it turns out that mitsuya just wants him to try on some clothes, much to inui’s relief. he ends up making some new friends!

kazutora: you thought mikey and baji was bad, huh? well kazutora is (arguably) worse. he’ll keep it civil for the first hour, only making like, 20 snide comments toward chifuyu while chifuyu is doing his nails (the only thing that’s keeping chifuyu from dumping acrylic nail polish all over on kazutora’s stupid egirl banana hair is that the nail polish was expensive as hell ). kazutora’s favorite prank victim also happens to be poor takemichi, which leads to a competition between smiley and kazutora to see who can prank takemichi the most. suffice to say, takemichi had a truly awesome horrible night.

kisaki: i’d like to make one thing clear. this bastard was NOT invited at all. he’d be a mood killer to have around anyways. even if he was, chifuyu would have killed him before he could even take a single step inside the house.

hanma: in a hypothetical turn of events, let’s just say that if hanma WAS at the sleepover (hypothetically, of course), he would be just as chaotic as smiley, except his idea of “fun” is setting something on fire with those stupid cigarettes of his (don’t smoke kids!! protect your lungs). stealing baji’s forte? not cool hanma. :/

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