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tobesolonely · 4 years ago

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more time with you

a/n: hello everyone! here's some dad!harry for you all :-) i had a lot of fun writing it and am wondering if this family could be a little recurring thing?? lmk what you all think! i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: fluff (super cute dad!harry!!!), oral (female receiving), fingering, dirty talk

word count: 2.5 k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

If you knew that getting your husband to take a break from all the late nights in the studio, the commitment to several different interviews a week, and the daunting possibility of a world tour within the near future, was by telling him you were ready for another baby, you would've done so way sooner.

Your daughter, Allison (or Ally, she reminded you every time you and Harry would get upset with her and call her by her full name), was nearly six years old. You knew that you and Harry wanted a big family, so it was a surprise to everyone that knew the two of you that you didn't have a house full of babies running around yet. Needless to say, you were ecstatic when Harry agreed he was also ready for another child. He immediately pushed back everything he had planned within the current year to the following year.

"Next album can come out a lil' bit later, m' sure everyone will understand." He reassured you when you asked him if he really had to cancel absolutely every single thing he had in the works. "Just wanna take some time off for you, Ally, and our second love bug. Loved the time off I spent with yeh and Ally when she was jus' a baby, 'member that?"

You smile at the memory of you and Harry being new parents, trying to care for a fussy baby that wouldn't sleep through the night for the life of you until she was nearly two years old. After that, Harry decided he was ready to get back to work, admitting that he wouldn't be as guilty leaving you with a baby that sleeps through the night versus one that wakes up every few hours.

"I remember," you sigh contentedly. "I can't wait to do it all over again. Also, can't wait to start trying…" You trail off, trying to slip your hand under Harry's t-shirt that he wore to bed the night before.

Harry tsks, giving you a cheeky look and moves your hand out from under the fabric of his shirt. "Not now, darling. Ally's football game is at ten, so we gotta wake her up soon."

Letting out a soft sigh, you cross your arms, knowing Harry was right. You were just excited by all that talk about expanding your family that you wanted to get started right away. If Ally was late to her football game, though, she'd be furious at the two of you because that would mean sitting out the first quarter. She hated not being able to play as much as she possibly could. "I'll go wake her up, and you can make her a bowl of fruit or something like that? Needs something light, so she doesn't complain about a stomach ache with all that running around she'll be doing."

"Oh yeah, wouldn't be good now, would it? Can't have a repeat of last time," he laughs at the memory of you frantically calling him during half time of your daughter's football game last year while he was at a meeting going over tour logistics to scold him for making her such a heavy, greasy breakfast, while he laughed and told Jeff about Ally's little incident. "I'll go get her breakfast started." He places a kiss on your cheek and swiftly gets out of bed. You get up shortly after him, tie your robe around your body, and head down the hall to your daughter's room.

"Ally," you knock gently on the frame of her door. "Time to get up, bug. It's half past 8, and your coach sent Mumma a message saying he wanted everyone there by 9:15. Up you go, sweetie."

Your daughter groans and pulls the covers up higher over her face. "M' sleepy, Mumma. Don' wanna go today." You smile at her and walk over to her tiny bed, sitting down on the edge.

"I'm sorry you're sleepy, bug. But your teammates need you! 'Member what Mumma and daddy told you about bein' a team player when you told us you wanted to play footie like all your friends in school? They're gonna be missin' you if you're not there with them today, sweetie."

At this, Ally peaks her head out from under her covers, sleep still in her eyes. You continue on. "And besides bug, daddy's gonna be at your game today! He hasn't seen you play very often, has he?" Ally's eyes immediately light up when you remind her that Harry would be in attendance. He was a wonderful husband and dad, but he wasn't perfect. Sometimes he'd forget about her games and practices and already have things scheduled that he just couldn't cancel at the last minute. Although your daughter understood that her daddy was very busy, she hasn't quite grasped the magnitude of exactly how famous Harry actually was. Therefore, she wasn't quite sure why he wasn't able to make it to every single one of her events.

"Daddy's gonna watch? He's gonna see my whole game!" Ally all but squeals, kicking her covers off. "Where's daddy? We can go now!"

You grin at your daughter's enthusiasm, thrilled that she was so excited for her daddy to watch her play. "Slow down, babe. I'll get your uniform out of the dryer, and you can go down and eat breakfast with daddy. How's that sound?"

Ally nods and quickly runs out of her room, ignoring you calling out to her and asking her to please stop running. Shaking your head, you get up from her bed and retrieve her football uniform. You hear her talking a mile a minute downstairs to Harry, telling him how excited she is that he was gonna get to see her play and get to see all her 'cool friends'. Ally was a daddy's girl for sure, and you loved every minute of it. After getting her uniform from the dryer, you lay it out on her bed and go downstairs to join your family.

"...and I can run so fast, Mr. Coach says I run fast like a road-runner! You'll think it's so cool, daddy, I promise!" You walk in on Ally enthusiastically telling Harry what to expect when he's at her game.

"Is that so, bub? Are you the fastest one on your team?" Harry entertains the conversation, setting a bowl of oatmeal in front of your daughter.

"Yeah, daddy! And I don't even trip and stuff over the ball anymore like I used to! Mumma says I'm more 'co-ordinated'!"

You and Harry let out a giggle at your daughter's pronunciation of the word 'coordinated'. Yet, she doesn't notice, hurriedly stuffing her breakfast into her mouth.

"I'm proud of you for being more coordinated, bub," Harry ruffles her hair. "C'mon and let's finish up so Mumma can help you get ready for your game, don't wanna be late, do ya?"

⋆⋆⋆

"That's my girl, Ally! Go- oh, wrong way, poppet! Other way!"

You watched amusedly from one of the folding chairs you and Harry brought. He's eagerly yelling to your daughter on the field who was now about to score a goal for the opposing team because she was running in the wrong direction. She kicks the ball to one of her teammates, and Harry claps loudly, causing her to stop and wave at him.

"Nice kick, Ally! Pay attention!"

The other parents are looking amused at Harry, some knowing who he is, you assumed, based on how they had their camera phones out. Harry turns to look at you unbothered, a proud grin on his face.

"My daughter is a football star! Gonna go pro, that one is."

"Our daughter," you jokingly tell him. "And sit down, Harry! You're distracting her. She has looked over this way at you probably a dozen times already!" Harry playfully rolls his eyes at you but sits down anyway, knowing you're right. He settles down for the rest of the game, cheering loudly for her but staying seated so she doesn't get distracted by him.

As soon as the game is over, Ally immediately runs over to her dad and starts talking excitedly. "Did ya see how good I played, daddy? Did ya? I told you I can run fast! Did you see how fast I run? I'm fast, do you think so?"

Harry lets out a loud laugh, hoisting your daughter upon his shoulders. "I saw indeed, poppet. Really startin' to think yeh the fastest lil' bug I've ever seen in my life." Ally's eyes widen at this statement, and you snicker as you fold the chairs you and Harry were sitting in back up. The three of you are getting ready to leave when one of Ally's teammates and her mother comes up to you with smiles on their faces.

"Great game, Ally! You're such a good little striker!" Ally beams at this compliment, as does Harry.

"Whadya say when someone tells yeh something nice, bug?" He gently reminds her. Ally lets out a timid 'thank you,' and Harry gives her a little squeeze on her leg.

"Can Ally come to my house and eat pizza with me? And we can play with my toys, and we can watch a movie!" Ally's friend looks between you and Harry, a pleading look in her eyes. "My Mumma said it's okay with her if it's okay with you!"

"Oh, we wouldn't want to intrude…" you start, but Ally's friend's mother waves her hand.

"S'not a problem at all! I'd love to have Ally over, lil' angel she is. She's always welcome over at mine." She tells you and Harry truthfully. You look at Harry and shrug, non-verbally telling him if he's okay with it, then you are. Ally's been over to her friend's house before and always has a great time, and you had no plans as a family for the remainder of the day.

"Okay yeah, that'll be fun won't it, bub?" He asks your daughter, lifting her off his shoulders and setting her back down. He reaches into his pocket and pulls his wallet out. "Let us at least pay for food and some desserts too, if the girls want. I'm sure they will, though." He winks at Ally and her friend, and they giggle and go to kick the ball back and forth to each other while the adults talk. Her mother thanks him profusely but tells him it isn't necessary, but Harry, being the kind person he is, insists and gives her a few bills to cover the girls' day together. He never liked sending your daughter with someone else's parents without money because he thought it was rude to expect them to pay for his kid. He usually ended up paying for all parties involved as a 'thank you' for having your daughter as company. After telling your daughter to be good and have fun, you and Harry walk hand in hand back towards the car.

"Got the whole rest of tha day to ourselves, don't we?" He asks, rubbing his thumb over yours. You hum in acknowledgment and turn to look at him. He has a cheeky grin on his face, and you immediately know what he's thinking.

"Think we should get started on that baby, then?"

⋆⋆⋆

As soon as the two of you are through the front door of your house, Harry has his hands all over you- one on your neck, the other gripping your ass.

"Harry," you moan out breathlessly. "M'not gonna conceive our baby next to the front door."

"Well lucky fo' you, I wasn't plannin' on takin' yeh next to the front door, hmm," he says against your neck, placing a wet kiss on it. "Jump."

You wrap your legs around Harry as he walks you to your couch. "Wasn't really thinkin' 'bout the couch either you goof, but I guess it's better than the floor."

Harry huffs in annoyance and lifts his head to look you in the eyes. "Wan' me to put this baby in yeh or not?"

"Course I do," you retort, reaching in between you to unbutton your jeans. "Been thinkin' about it since this morning."

Harry hums in response and lifts up your shirt, kissing his way down from right below your breasts until he's at your hips. "Gonna let me have a lil' taste first? Make sure you're all nice an' wet fo' me, pet?"

You nod quickly, lifting your hips so Harry could have an easier time getting your bottoms off. He yanks them off and flings them over his shoulder. Harry runs a calloused finger over your underwear, causing you to shudder. "Lets get these off, yeah? That alright with you?" You whimper, bucking your hips up against Harry's hand ghosting over your core.

"Gotta let me hear you say it Y/N, yes or no?" He has the most shit-eating grin on his face, and you know he's just trying to get you all hot and bothered.

"Yes Harry, please get these panties off of me," you all but beg. "Need to feel your tongue on me."

That's all Harry needs to hear before he's hooking your underwear in his fingers, shoving it to the side. He flattens out his tongue and licks slowly up your folds, moaning against you. "Always taste so good, pet. Love havin' my head between yeh thighs like this."

Letting out a rather loud moan, your eyes squeeze shut as you tangle one hand in Harry’s hair, the other gripping the side of the couch. He takes your clit in his mouth and hallows his cheeks, suckly gently. “Feel good, Y/N? Let me know when I’m makin’ yeh feel good, gotta hear it.” You nod, feeling yourself growing close already even though Harry hasn’t been at this for more than three minutes.

“Need your fingers, H,” you breathlessly tell him. “Make me come, please.”

You don’t have to tell Harry again. He sucks on his middle finger and slowly slides it in you, curling it up and searching for that sweet, spongy spot he’s so good at finding. His finger curls against it and you yelp in pleasure, grabbing onto his hair even tighter. “Feels s’good, baby. Fuck, don’t stop please. Whatever you do, don’t fuckin’ stop.” Harry speeds up, sucking even harder on your clit to help you reach your first orgasm of the day.

“Can feel your tight pussy throbbin’ round my finger, know yeh gonna come, Y/N. S’tha feel good?” You move your hands onto your chest, pushing your bra up and rolling your nipples between your fingers. Harry moans at the sight and flicks his tongue on your clit, middle finger moving nimbly inside your cunt. Without warning, your orgasm washes over you, and Harry helps you ride it out, not stopping his licks against your clit. He gradually slows down his movements against your pussy and lifts his head, a big dimpled grin on his glistening face. “Always taste delicious, but I think I wanna feel ya come around m’cock now. I mean, I am on a mission to put another baby in yeh, after all.”

You beam, knowing this was just the start of having Harry to yourself a lot more often.

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #dad!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styes one shot #harry styles fanfiction #fine line #harry styles #thanks for reading!#more time with you

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supremeinlilac · 4 years ago

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Don’t ask me what could have been

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2037

Warnings: Death, angst, idk its just a lil bit sad

A/n: I challenged myself to write a fic without dialogue, because my writing is super descriptive anyway, so I enjoyed writing this so much, you have no idea, even though it’s sad. Enjoyyy :))

For @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @shineestark I love you and you deserve the stars <33

Your death had been an accident.

Wrong place, wrong time. An unsettled ghost that you’d simply gotten too close to. Curiosity had indeed killed the cat after all, and now it had taken you too.

It was the first and last time Billie had requested you join her on a job, to watch her work. You’d eagerly accepted, excited to watch her work, slightly nervous about it being your first real experience with ghosts of any kind. She’d let you explore the giant house while she spoke with who she believed to be the problematic ghost, one of a small child.

It was in the bedroom you’d met the real ghost but he’d looked and sounded so real that you’d mistaken him for someone alive. His timidness soon turned to anger once he realised you weren’t there to held him, and you couldn’t even blurt out that Billie was just downstairs and that she could help. Everything happened so quickly. Too quickly.

Your last words were the whispers of her name but she had been too far away to have heard them. You’d slipped away without a goodbye. You still yearned for that goodbye, everyday you’d find the whispers of her name falling from your lips unconsciously, as if begging for her to hear you.

She couldn’t have helped. It didn’t help to ponder over what if’s.

Even so, you knew the memories of that day consumed her still. When she would wake from bouts of fitful sleep she’d reach out across the sheets for your comforting hand, your warmth, only to be met with none. She pined for your embrace, the way you’d coo her nightmares away with gentle kisses and your nails against her scalp.

The first smoking break she’d take at work, when the dew still clung to the delicately swaying grass and the mist of the morning had not yet cleared, she’d remember the way the droplets of tears would slip down the crease of your smile as your laughter rippled through your body.

Billie Dean couldn’t wear her pearls anymore. She couldn’t have them lay so close to her heart without the memory of you always sitting upon her lap, twirling them between delicate fingers and pressing a lingering kiss to her collarbone. Just as you always did when she wore them, which was why she wore them so often. She never got the chance to admit that to you. She wished she did.

They now lay untouched in a box beside the last book you’d been reading, unfinished. There was so much more of it you had yet to read. So much more life you had yet to experience.

When she’d open your wardrobe to the fading smell of your clothes, press a bunched up top in her fingers and bring it to her nose. Imagining that you were there, giggling and teasing about that specific habit, asking why she insisted on doing that when she had the real thing.

Had.

The past tense reminded her cruelly that you weren’t hers anymore. Weren’t anyone’s. Just weren’t.

No one was holding you, soothing you, making you laugh or stopping the flow of your tears. She ached to be able to hold you again. For one more time she would trade all her fame and success, didn’t care how cliché that sounded, because for you she would.

There were times she’d shrug on an outfit for a meal with her colleagues, turning as if to seek approval from you before her smile would faulter and her shoulders sag, and she’d have to fight herself to enjoy the meal in your absence. Her fingers pressing against her purse, and the knowing that your smiling photo lay just within. A photo she’d taken when you’d been unaware, that she’d kept to brush over and admire the way your cheeks would redden and crinkle, a silent laugh beaming over your face.

When she’d visit the house, you’d watch her from a distance. You didn’t trust yourself to be close to her. To be allowed to smell her, the lingering musk of her cigarettes and the sweet tang of her perfume.

She’d talk to you, telling you about her show and about celebrities she’d met on her travels and at events. You’d smile at her theatrics, the way she’d catch herself waving her hands around dramatically while in the throng of one of her stories.

She never spoke about meeting anyone. Not that you needed to be told that she wasn’t interested in dating. You could tell she’d thrown herself into her work to ease the insistent pain. The loss. You were proud of her.

On this particular day, the atmosphere was different. Eerie. You watched as she crossed the threshold into the property, hand lingering on the door a second too long. The other ghosts could sense it too, the change, and they scattered into the far corners of the house, leaving you alone with the woman who now ascended the stairs toward the bedroom she always zeroed in on, fingers tracing the wallpaper and cracked frames that hung.

You knew why she’d come. Knew why this time it felt so different. So final.

The thought of her leaving for good made your throat close up, sobs catching as you forced yourself to be stronger. To savour these fleeting moments in her presence as if they were to be your last. It was cruel to think that they would be.

In the bedroom she sat on the edge of the bed, as always, lips parting to hold a cigarette between teeth while she lit it with trembling hands. Oh how you wanted nothing more than to still them between your own, to comfort her.

You didn’t. Settling for simply watching her inhale deeply, the flickering trail of smoke that danced out of the crack in her mouth, dissipating into the air. You watched her lean to the side table to snub out the orange ember, fizzling out against the cool ash tray.

Approaching her, you knelt at her feet, the position you’d so often adopt when she’d had a trying day at work, head in her lap and fingers clutching at her pants while she’d stroke at your hair and relax. Your proximity to her felt so natural, like coming home. She felt like home.

She could smell your lingering perfume, as fresh as the day you’d died, enveloping her in your familiarity. Could feel the warmth of your breath against her neck, fingers reaching to brush over the goosebumps left. She swore if she just reached out, that she’d feel the curve of your jaw, a hand coming to rest upon hers as she’d caress your face.

She did, and her fingers curled around nothing, so she did it again, willing you to appear with the frantic clenching of her hand as if the more she did it the more likely you were to be. When her attempts bore no fruit, she let her arm drop limply to her side, a finality.

A small, sad smile painted her lips, and she suddenly looked so small and broken, like a child lost in the bustle of a crowd. Alone.

You wanted to reach for her too, to press the pads of your fingers against those lips, to tug at the edges and hold her until the smile was true again. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, an invisible string holding you back from her, one which you couldn’t sever.

You loved her.

You couldn’t, and wouldn’t shackle her to this house while she was alive, to you. You loved her more than the selfish desire that swarmed inside you to just appear to her and tell her to stay. You knew she would.

It was the best for her if she believed you weren’t here, so that the grief would slowly thaw and she’d be able to find peace. Move on. Maybe find someone else. Maybe.

Billie Dean Howard. Medium to the stars.

God how you wished that the stars in her eyes would sparkle like they did when you were alive, and not just with the sheen of unshed tears.

Billie Dean Howard was the stars. She was the stars and the moon and the sun, the universe painted perfectly in silk and cigarettes. The stars would fling themselves to the ground for her, bowing in her presence.

Scrambling to your feet and out of her way when Billie had stood, she walked to the wall at the far end of the room, her back to you and you wondered what she was doing. She’d never done this on any of her other visits. You didn’t have to wait long to find out why.

You heard the whispered goodbye, bit back the tears that threatened to fall at the finality of it all. Watched her rest her forehead against the cool wall, as she so often used to do to you, fingers pressed into the wallpaper as if she wanted nothing more than to be sucked into the very walls of the house, to be trapped just as you were.

Billie turned around, looking straight at you as if you were as clear and bright as the sun, before reaching into the bag on her shoulder. The shimmer of her pearls held up against the low light of the room. She’d brought them to you. She knew you were still here, watching. She knew what you were sacrificing for her freedom to leave and live and exist outside these walls.

You smiled. She was leaving a piece of her to you, a piece of you both to tie and strengthen the bond you shared, even in death. The faint clatter of the beads on the chest of drawers had you following her movements again, hands hovering over the line of her shoulder blades through the top she was wearing.

When Billie finally turned around, this was the closest you’d been to each other since your death. There was no way she could know your were there. Yet here she was, reaching up and cradling the air that would have been your face if you’d just let her in, as if you were as real as herself. As if she could see you, touch you.

As quickly as she’d turned, she was lowering her hands and gathering her things off the bed. She did it slowly, meticulously, as if rushing was breaking some unspoken rule. Unfortunately, she could only slow her movements so much, only put off her inevitable departure for so long.

You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t as if Billie was drawing any comfort from being in the room in which you’d died. You could see the pained way she’d glance at the spot she’d found you, the spot in which she’d curled herself into your body and cried for help to no one. The spot in which she’d learned how fragile life was, how quickly and cruelly it could be snatched from under someone.

You didn’t follow when she’d given a last fleeting look around the room, her footsteps echoed against the wood as she walked back toward the stairs to leave. Instead holding onto the image of her face in your mind, committing it to memory as the stairs creaked with her weight.

Out of the bay window, you could see the final sway of her hips, swish of her hair, golden now against the setting sun. She didn’t turn back to give one more pleading glance towards the house. You think that if she had done, she wouldn’t have been able to bring herself to leave.

You hoped that maybe, when the time came, Billie would return to you to die, wrinkled hands still holding the same warmth and gentleness that they always did for you. You hoped she’d remember the way your lips felt against her own, the way your bodies moulded perfectly as if designed for the very purpose of being close. You begged that she’d be drawn back in the final days, so that you could be together again, as you should be.

But for now, this was your goodbye. The goodbye you’d been robbed of.

taglist : @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete @extraordinarilycelestrial @toujours-ensanglante@mssallymckenna @okpaulson @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @amethyst-bitch @its-soph-xx @germansarechill @bluesxrgnt ,if you want to be added just send me an ask :))

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #american horror story #ahs murder house

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passable-talent · 5 years ago

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hi! may i request an alta scenario with zuko where the reader (female or non-binary, if that works) is an earth bender who was injured by the fire nation and is found by iroh and zuko in the woods, who helps them heal, and they begin to travel with iroh and zuko to ba sing se and zuko and the reader fall in love? i’m not being super specific so u can have creative freedom to do what u want, i can’t wait to see what you write :) thank you!

cute!!! their adventures through the earth kingdom always entertained me. esp Iroh and his need for tea

Zuko was growing more and more frustrated with his uncle’s complaisance. He just couldn’t understand it- they were royalty! Both he and Iroh had been raised as heirs to the throne of the Fire Lord, so if their current situation bothered Zuko, why didn’t it bother his uncle?

He took up the mask of the blue spirit once again to begin alleviating these troubles. They were getting food, they were regaining some of their luxury. Frequent firebending patrols, especially around villages, made things harder, but that had never stopped Zuko before. He left at night, when Iroh was fast asleep, and was usually back by midnight. Nothing could stop him- not firebending patrols, not walls, nothing.

Except when the ground moved under him and he lost his footing in the middle of the woods. That stopped him. He paused, and tried to get up, but felt the ground roll underneath him again. For a moment he resigned himself to the dirt, watching the dirt floor of the forest roll with the stones underneath as waves, radiating from one spot.

Through the trees, he caught a glimpse of a small, pointed rock structure. He narrowed his eyes and crawled backwards to put distance between himself and it, and went back to the camp he’d left his uncle in.

“Uncle,” he said the next morning, “I think there’s something I want you to see.” Iroh nodded and allowed Zuko to lead him back to the spot in the forest where he’d fallen last night, and as soon as their footsteps approached, the ground began tremoring again. Zuko pointed to the rock structure, which now it was clear to see had been made by an earth bender. It was a tent-like shape, with two diagonal roof pieces and triangular sides sealed up, all with stone.

There were scorch marks covering the rock, and all the grass around it was scarred with fire.

“What do you think it is?” Zuko asked, and Iroh studied the ground a bit more before leveling his gaze toward the stones.

“I think it’s a very scared earth bender.”

“Hello in there!” He called, and the tremors in the earth stopped. “My name is Mushi, I’m a refugee from the war heading to Ba Sing Se with my nephew. Do you need any help?” For a moment only silence answered him, until one of the triangular sides of the rock tent slid back into the earth.

Inside the tent you were buried up to your neck in dirt, using the cool soil to soothe your burns. You’d received some fierce ones on your shoulder and ribcage after you dared fight back against a firebending patrol, and when you tried to escape the battle, they’d cornered you. Your tent had been an effort to escape the skirmish by waiting it out, and it had worked, after a while. But for hours you merely sat inside your stone tent while they blasted it with flames, heating it up and nearly cooking you, if it hadnt been for the cool soil you submerged yourself in. At the very least, it made your burns much worse. At the worst, you scorched your leg when the flesh brushed too close to the heated rock.

“Are there any firebenders around?” You asked, voice quiet, and not quite timid. Zuko and Iroh shared a look for a brief moment.

“No,” Iroh answered. “Can I come closer?” You nodded and took your arm over your chest, trying to keep any of your body from touching the burns that were all too warm. You sat up slowly from the soil, revealing burnt and tattered clothes barely covering your three major burns. Iroh’s eyes widened and he stepped closer.

“You need help for those burns,” Iroh said, “we’ve got a camp we can take you back to, and help. Can you stand?”

“No,” you said, “it’ll hurt too much.” Iroh looked over his shoulder at Zuko, who was standing in shock, looking at you.

He’d been burnt, and it had left a scar. But at least it was only the one- you’d been treated so cruelly, and if all of your burns scarred, it would cover near a third of your body. He couldn’t stop the adrenaline coursing through him. It would’ve been so painful, and he couldn’t comprehend who would’ve been so cruel enough to do to you what had been done.

“Can you carry them?” Iroh asked Zuko, and he swallowed hard to break himself from his stare. He nodded slightly, hesitantly, and Iroh looked back to you.

“Just take down your shelter, and we’ll help you.” You lifted your right arm, the one whose shoulder hadn’t been burnt, and used it for a quick motion that sent the stone back into the ground. Zuko walked closer, and was about to kneel down, but paused.

If he picked you up on your left side, it would press your burnt shoulder and ribs into him. But if he did so on your left, it was your leg burn that would get too warm.

“Which side do you want me to lift you on?” He asked, and you took a moment to consider.

“Left,” you said, and he nodded. It was somber, as he lifted you up underneath your knees and shoulders. Upon Iroh’s instruction your threaded your fingers together behind Zuko’s neck, and tried to keep your leg extended so that it wouldn’t brush against Zuko’s clothes.

“As I said, I’m Mushi,” Iroh said, trying to make conversation through your light, subconscious whimpering. “My nephew is Lee. What’s your name?” You gave him a small smile, to show that you appreciated his kindness, even as it was tinged by your pain. You couldn’t help it- it had been days of boiling, sweltering flesh that you couldn’t get a reprieve from.

“Y/N,” you told him, and his bright smile answered you.

“What a lovely name.”

Iroh found a plant or two in the wilderness that helped with the burn, and slowly you began to heal. You were kept awake, though, sometimes, and watched as Lee left with nothing and came back with something. You knew something fishy was going on, but you didn’t push it, because you didn’t feel it was your place.

“Are you awake, Y/N?” Zuko asked one night when he returned. You grunted and affirmation and he sat down in front of where you were laying.

“I got this for you,” he said, and handed you a small tin. When you opened it, you found within it an artisan burn suave, made in the nearby earth kingdom village by one or two of the wives of soldiers.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a smile in the dwindling firelight. He was a tough nut to crack, but you knew he cared for you- he showed his love through listening, and gifting. You noticed it first when he gave his uncle a teapot, and this gift to you only confirmed your suspicion.

Time went on, and they packed up camp to move closer to Ba Sing Se. You came with, holding tight to Zuko’s waist so that there was enough room for the three of you on the ostrich horse. You felt bad for the poor thing, carrying so much weight, but you were in pain and couldn’t walk for long periods of time. Even if you could, you likely wouldn’t have passed up and oppurtunity to hug Lee around the waist for hours while you travelled.

You knew that Mushi had figured you out- there was no way he hadn’t. You weren’t exactly very subtle as you tried to grab Lee’s attention with your laugh or a joke or an earthbending trick. He began doing his part to nudge Lee toward you, which you were appreciative of, especially since it worked.

Or so you thought.

Zuko had scooped you up one evening, when Iroh was already asleep. He hugged you tightly before setting you back down onto your feet, leaving you confused.

“What is it?” You asked, and he shook his head, brooding as always.

“Let me sleep beside you tonight?” He asked, and you were quick to accept, even if you were confused. You fell asleep that night with his arms wrapped around your waist and his nose pressed to the back of your head.

When you blinked your eyes open, you caught a glimpse of the ostrich horse riding away, Lee on its back.

“Mushi? What’s going on?” You asked, sitting up slowly.

“Lee’s got to find his own way. Come, help me pack. We’re going to move to the next village.”

Your alliance was to Mushi, but you did miss Lee. You wondered what he had been thinking that night, when he chose to lay with you before he left. The two of you had barely talked about romance or anything of the like, but he’d done this- how much had it meant to him?

“My nephew is a complicated man,” Mushi said, walking beside you. “Sometimes, his actions are quite peculiar. But he will find his destiny. And somehow, I believe it will lead him back to us.” You looked sideways at Mushi, and smiled.

“You think so?” He nod was all the affirmation you needed.

And he was right- Lee did come back. He came back to reveal himself as brother to the Fire Princess, which made him... the prince of the Fire Nation?

Now the whole ‘running from the fire nation at all costs’ thing made sense.

You didn’t really mind. You offered unconditional forgiveness to the prince, and showed the same medicinal care to Iroh’s wounds that he had once shown to yours.

Zuko was having a hard time, but you were fascinated in watching his training en route to Ba Sing Se. Just as Iroh wanted, the two of you learned from each other, and soon the style of earthbending you practiced looked similar in some aspects to firebending. He, through training with you, became more rooted, and his balance improved further.

But training aside, the two of you started talking. You sat under the stars and began to be honest with each other, now that he had nothing to hide. You shared what had happened to you in that forest for the first time, and he shared the story behind his scar.

Sleeping side by side became as common a practice as eating breakfast.

Iroh couldn’t have been happier, especially as you seemed to bring Zuko out of his shell. He smiled a slight bit more, and laughed a little easier. Even when the three of you made it to Ba Sing Se, Iroh could feel the difference in his nephew’s attitude.

You hated firebenders- they’d left you with course, scarred skin on the outside of your left calf, with dark scars under the skin of your shoulder and ribcage. You hated firebenders- all but two. One, who took you in, and the other, who you loved deeply.

Because someone who’d felt scar tissue for years wouldn’t hesitate to touch it when you wanted him to.

-🦌 Roe

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sohin-ace · 4 years ago

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Doppio - Frog Princess

Fairy tale AU and lots of love for my small man.

Doppio dragged his feet across the garden, restless and desperate. He sighed and whined to himself, taking the opportunity of being all alone to voice his pain and concerns, something he was never allowed to do.

"Aww jeez... This prince life isn't made for me..."

He huffed again and tugged at his very uncomfortable, gold adorned collar that was almost suffocating him.

Doppio looked around him, sure enough, the tall trees surrounding him did a great job at hiding him from the potential workers on the castle grounds that could possibly be looking for him.

He could finally have a little moment for himself and sneak out, maybe to cry to himself a little bit.

"O-ow... That still hurts..." The boy whined and rubbed on his bruised fingers, the results of angry professors punishing him for each mistakes he made. "I'm no good, I can't do anything right..."

That's right. Prince Doppio was a clumsy and anxious boy who lacked capacity in every domain. He always tried his best and obeyed every and each order, he wasn't undisciplined, oh no, young Doppio was a good boy.

He was just bad. He hardly managed to keep the required straight stance for more than ten seconds, was better at petting the horses than at riding them, couldn't follow etiquette at all, or protocol, was extremely forgetful and sadly, mother nature did not grace him with the strongest physical traits a young man his age was expected to have.

"Tch... Trish was so popular everyone courted her and she was so easy to marry, but me... No one would want to marry a good-for-nothing like me..."

He angrily kicked some rock and held his back that cracked at the movement, in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and sobbing at the sore feeling. That last lesson of fencing went so terribly wrong, how did the others do it?

"I'm so tired... Why meee...?"

"Ribbit!"

"Huh?" Doppio was startled at the very sudden but intriguing croaky sound and approached its direction near the pond.

He couldn't see anything at first, but then a tiny little creature jumped out of its hiding place. Doppio's honey eyes widened and he quickly wiped his warm tears, crouching down towards the animal.

"A frog!" He exclaimed happily, almost like a small child, new to the world. "Hi! You're so tiny, what's your name?"

"Ribbit!"

He knew very well the animal couldn't respond to him with actual words, but just the feeling of having even a one-sided conversation soothed a bit of his loneliness down. He cupped his hands together to invite the frog in, and the animal obliged by jumping on them.

He looked down and observed the chubby little creature. It had the cutest, roundest eyes, almost sparkly in the dim forest light, its green color was so bright and homogenous, there weren't any marks or patterns that frogs usually had on their skin. Even its limbs were tiny and soft, Doppio couldn't help but pet it with one careful and shaky finger.

"O-ooh! Oh my god!" He squealed uncontrollably. "You're so squishy!"

"Ribbit ribbit!"

The quiet and high-pitched croak felt so pleasant to his ears, it meddled with the sound of the water next to him and made him feel so much at peace. He loved to hear that cute sound and how the frog's belly puffed up like a balloon with each croak.

"What are you? A boy or a girl? I'd say you're a girl because you're super pretty and have a tiny voice."

"Ribbit Ribbit! Ribbit Ribbit!"

Doppio gasped loudly. "D-did I get it right?! Oohh yes!! That's so cool! Well... Not like I would have minded if you were a boy... Or both... Wait, do frogs have genders? Oh it doesn't matter."

The young prince felt like this frog was currently the only thing keeping him sane. He had no one else to talk to, there was no one who actually cared for his own well-being and he had no friends.

The only real person to actually show him some kind of recognition and love was none other than the King Diavolo himself. But even his sweet words and affection seemed somewhat back-handed and laced with pressure and severity.

"You know, you're lucky, little thing..." Doppio started with melancholy. "You don't have to worry so much about your life... I'm bad at everything and I'm all alone... I don't know what to do..."

"Ri-rib, ribbit!"

"Even if a nice princess wanted to marry me, I would turn her down because she would deserve better... Sometimes I wish I could disappear..."

"Ribb-ribbit!"

Doppio's eyes softened on the small frog. That's how sad and pathetic he was. Talking his problems out with a frog.

"Why do I feel like you actually understand me...? Thank you for listening to me and being my only friend."

Without even thinking, he lifted the small frog and brought it towards his face, giving it the tiniest of pecks. He smiled at how weird the feeling was, the animal was cold and slightly humid, a bit sticky too which he did not mind surprisingly.

He sighed and looked up mindlessly before his eyes were suddenly striked by a blinding flash of light.

"Wh-what the hell?!"

The light flashed brighter and brighter, coming from the frog in his hands. What was going on?

Doppio could only drop the creature and shield his eyes with his arms desperately as the frog sparkled like a thousand fireflies and grew in size.

The boy squinted his eyes shut and fell back right onto his butt before he felt a strong weight pressing on him, the mass eventually pinning him down onto the ground.

"U-uughh..." He groaned and rubbed his head, a sharp headache from the harsh light hitting his sensitive eyes still slowly fading.

He looked down only for his eyes to widen like saucers. He couldn't believe what he was currently witnessing and thought that maybe he went blind from the flash and was hallucinating right now.

The weight on top of him revealed to be the figure of a girl laying unconscious. He couldn't see her face buried in his chest, but he could make out her beautiful hair, smooth skin tone and the very frilly green dress she was wearing.

And that wasn't just any dress either, the golden ornaments, the tulle, the silk, the lace, the satin... That was an expensive dress, was she...could she be... A nobleswoman? A baroness? A...

...A princess?

"A-aah..." The girl moaned quietly before pushing herself up, not without struggle and Doppio gasped.

"A-are you okay signori-..." The boy could barely finish his sentence and only mumbled open-mouthed nonsense.

He was beyond mesmerized at the beauty who had just ever-so-slowly lifted her face up to look at him. Her shining wide eyes, her innocent glossy lips, her rose dusted cheeks and her hair framing her perfect face made him believe he just stumbled into some sort of forest Goddess.

"Ah-I... U-uuhm.. Y-you...uh.. W-ah-...eh... I-I'm..." He stammered awkwardly, his brain melting like ice in summer as his face and ears burned a crimson red, his breath catching in his now dry throat.

"Ah! My stars!" The girl gasped as she hovered over the immensely flustered prince. "I am so sorry! I must be crushing you!"

The young girl fretted anxiously before trying to scramble over on her knees and straighten herself up to give the poor man some much needed space, but as soon as she did, she was hit with a wave of dizziness and lost balance again. Doppio was quick to sit up and catch her against his chest, wrapping careful arms around her.

"A-are you okay, miss? What happened to you? What's going on?" The boy asked worriedly, regaining his composure slowly.

"Ah y-yes... It's just... It's been so long since I've been glamoured..."

"You've been... Glamoured?" Doppio couldn't be more confused than this, but the girl explained further as she leaned back slightly.

Her name was Y/N L/N, daughter of the King L/N. Many years ago, she had been the victim of a curse cast by the one and only sorcerer Dio, who was overcome by fury and rage against anyone affiliated with the Joestar Empire, or those who refused to become one of his pets, casting spells after spells, and curses after curses.

"He turned me into a frog and swore to me that nobody would ever come to save me from my demise... But you..." Y/N looked up at Doppio's honey eyes and couldn't help the tears pooling at her eyes.

She was free, at last.

"I was all alone... And you came here... My savior..."

Her soft voice cracked with thick emotions and she stared into Doppio's golden eyes with soft ones, her vision blurred by warm tears. Doppio gasped lightly, moved by her story and she shyly wiped her tears.

"A-ah, forgive me! How shameful of me, to weep in front of a prince like this... I'm just.. So..."

"No, princess, don't apologize." He gently held her wrists to pull them away from her timid face. "You have the right to be overwhelmed... Nobody's here, besides... I cried too, earlier, in front of you. Nothing wrong with showing your emotions."

She sighed dreamily at his gentle words and soft touches, the now more confident boy stirring her heart. "What is your name, my prince?"

"Doppio." He gulped, stiff as a rock at her saccharine gaze and tone. "Doppio Vinegar."

"You're a good person, Doppio..." She breathed out, her words dripping with warm sincerity. Doppio's heart could only skip beats at each and every one of her actions.

The boy may be clumsy and bashful, he surely wasn't dense. He well knew he was deeply falling in love with this frog princess, but something in him told him she may not be completely disinterested in him either, despite his overall appearance and personality.

But maybe, just maybe, it was because she didn't know him enough. She didn't know this extent of his foolishness, how worthless of a man he truly was. This was the perfect opportunity for her to just push him away and run back home, only to never see him again.

But against all he could have ever expected, he was completely shaken out of his low self-esteem filled transe when he felt her leaning her delicate hands and head against his chest, closing her eyes and relishing in his warm hold still on her.

"Prince Doppio... I feel so safe when I'm in your arms... I'll forever be grateful for granting me my deepest wish..." She lifted her head just enough to look at his blushing freckled face, his mouth agape. "How could I ever reward you?"

Was she... Really serious? Nobody has ever told him they felt good around him. Nobody has ever felt safe around the small and skinny man that was Doppio. Could he be strong enough for her?

Well one thing was positive, he didn't want to let her go, and if he had to eat razor blades to protect her, he would do it without batting an eye.

She actually wanted to, or at least seemed to, stay with him. She felt grateful, for him, of all people!

He hoped she wouldn't hear his heart go feral in his chest. She would do... Anything for him? Could he be selfish? Could he ask the inimaginable? Would she say yes? He wouldn't force her but... He would love to think about himself only, just this once in his life.

He had nothing to lose.

He gently grabbed both her hands in his surprisingly big ones, squeezing gently and rubbing his thumbs over her soft skin, as if to want to imprint his love onto her.

"Ma-... Marry me, Princess Y/N!" He confessed with loud yet clear determination. "Please, be mine! I will cherish you like my most prized treasure, you will never be alone and feel unsafe again! I promise my entire life to you, please promise me yours!"

She widened her eyes at his sudden assertiveness and his strong, meaningful words. The pink boy in front of her shook her heart in so many ways, and she had already lost everything to Dio in the past. She had absolutely no reason to deny, now did she?

The girl smiled bright and slowly pulled her hands out of his grasp, only to immediately wrap her arms around her hero's neck, nuzzling her face against him lovingly.

"Yes! I accept... my sweet Doppio."

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #golden wind #vento aureo #doppio vinegar x reader #doppio x reader #doppio vinegar #doppio #x reader #reader insert #jojo part 5 #part 5

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otterbeesfanficblog · 5 years ago

Text

When neutron stars collide

(Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

Part 1: Steps Before The Starting Line

Part 2: When a Star Chooses To Shine Part 3: Compare And Contrast Part 4: From Where We Stand Part 5: You Would Be Angry Too...

A/n: Hello dear readers, I'm so glad you decided to read my story. I hope you have fun. Anyway, I wanted to clarify a few things before we begin. Because this is featured in Japan, your in story surname will be first. For your surname, I have chosen it based on your quirk. Many, if not all My hero characters have their surnames related to there quirk. Get ready if you don't already know this, you about to learn somethin'. For example: Bakugou's family name looks like this (爆豪), which is in Japanese kanji. The kanji (爆) means (Burst) which can also be found in (爆発) (bakuhatsu) which means (Explosion). The second part of his surname (��) has different meanings, one of them being (overpowering). And in short, even his first name roughly means (Win) and (Myself) which really really relates to his need to win by himself and do most things himself. Now that we have explained Bakugou, let's explain you!I've chosen to use (宇宙急増) which is (Uchūkyūzō). The first half (宇宙) means (space), the second (急増) means (Surge or Explosion). From what you learned, I'll let you figure out what your quirk is. Either way, I simply wanted to explain this to you because I thought it was fun to do and I thought some of you would want to know. Japanese is such a beautiful and interesting language. Anyway, sorry for rambling, I hope you like the story!

You had to admit seeing it on tv, movies, shows, cartoons, animes...

The school was a lot different than you had expected it to be.

In all fairness, it was hard to say UA was a good example of what a 'normal' school is like. You may not be the most well versed in what a 'normal' school should be, but a school full of heroes and students training to be heroes was probably not too normal.

Your stomach twisted into a not as you watched all kinds of students pile into the UA for the same entrance exam, breathing in deep and letting out a big sigh you rubbed your face with your hands.

"Am I really doing this...?"

"I asked myself the same thing when I got here!"

You felt your body flinch at the sudden voice next to you, but looking to your side where it came from you relaxed. A little.

Standing next to you with a smile you can only describe as the rival of a golden retriever, was a boy with spiking red hair and red eyes. His teeth were as sharp as the points in his hair, but his eyes held nothing but friendliness in them.

He had a red tint to his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck with a groan.

"This is so nerve-racking, huh? I knew a lot of people would be here but man, it sure is crowded."

You were quiet for a moment, simply staring before you shook your head and realized normal people have conversations with each other.

"Oh, uh, yeah right. Crowded..."

"Sorry, totally blanked!" He held out his hand to you with his smile still wide. "My name is Kirishima Eijiro! Nice to meet you!"

You looked at his hand for a moment, slowly extending yours and giving it a small shake. His hand was warmer than yours and was rough, glancing up from his hand you realized how tall he was compared to you.

You mentally roll your eyes, scolding yourself for sizing up the first person you meet. He seemed nice enough...

"Yeah, nice to meet you too..."

He gave you a shy smile, tilting his head almost expecting something. You tilt your head back in confusion, trying to converse with him with your eyes. You jump a little and felt heat rushing up your neck you your cheeks.

"Oh! Right, my name... I'm Uchukyuzo Y/n."

"Wow! That's such a manly name!" He clenched his fist together in a fist pump motion in front of his chest, looking at you in awe, then quickly backing up and waving his hands around.

"Ah! I mean! Not to say you're like a man because.. you're a girl, obviously! Not trying to say you're manly. Eh-! I mean! Not to say you aren't manly! Just that, ya know, you aren't manly in the sense that you're a man! You're not a man! Well, unless you wanna be! If so - ah- That's awesome!"

You felt yourself grin up at him stumbling, it had been so long since you had talked to someone your age, let alone someone so... outgoing.

It was nice.

"It's cool, Kirishima. It's a compliment in my book, I think you're pretty manly too."

He paused his stumbling and gaped at you, then grin wide so wide he scrunched his face and closed his eye in glee.

"Oh wow! Being called manly by someone on my first day here, no way I'm gonna fail now!"

For the first time in a while you relaxed your body, then watched Kirishima bounce up.

"Oh! Hey, I got an idea! Let's sit together at the exam orientation!"

Grin not leaving your face, you nod with gentle eyes.

"Sure."

"Hell yeah! My first friend! Things are looking up!"

You let out a soft chuckle and let him lead the way while he continued to talk to you, telling you how excited he was to have this chance and how he was definitely gonna make it in. He treasures you that you would make it in too and that hopefully, you two could be in the same class together.

You just let him talk, agreeing with him every so often and chiming in if he had asked you a question or not. It was a little tricky at first, again you hadn't talked to someone your age for a long time, but with his outgoing personality, you quickly got into a rhythm with him.

You appreciated the fact that he wasn't someone to dig into your personal life after you dodged and gave vague answers to him about some stuff he got the picture you didn't talk about it that much.

He didn't at all hold back about himself though, which you found surprising. Everyone you had ever meet didn't really... talking about personal stuff like their life. You had been around people who minded their own business and didn't bother you so... you didn't bother them.

You and Kirishima had come in early so there were lots of seats open. You wanted to sit in the back and Kirishima wanted to sit in closer, so you two decided to compromise and you sat in the middle decently far back.

While more people were filling in seats, you were caught off guard by one of Kirishima's questions.

"Hey, noticed you aren't wearing your school uniform."

You froze and looked at the table in front of you, hiding your eyes from him.

You weren't wearing a school uniform the same reason why you don't have a bag like everyone else...

You were silent for a while and Kirishima was about to dismiss it before you looked up at him again. You gave him a timid smile while scratching at your cheek.

"Ah, I didn't really know I had to wear it. News like that doesn't really get to me until it's too late."

Kirishima looked at you with curious eyes, shrugged then looked at the screen in the front of the room.

"That's okay, I'm sure it won't be a problem. And if it is," He sends you a wink and shoves a thumb to his chest. "I'll be there to back you up."

Your chest clenched at his words, your throat barely letting any air in as you took a shaky breath in, hoping he didn't notice as you turn to the front. You give a strained smile and nod.

"Yeah... thank you..."

The orientation started boisterously by the pro hero and radio star Present Mic, though, no one reciprocated his calls to action. You were a little embarrassed to think you were actually going to respond to him, you opened your mouth to but when you heard nothing from your peers you quickly shut your mouth and slouched.

Then you felt secondhand embarrassment for a curly-haired boy with green hair and freckles as he was called out by a boy with blue hair and glasses in front of everyone.

"I could never..." You mumbled, crossing your arms and trying to hide more in your chair. Kirishima chuckled next to you and smiled.

"There's gonna be some interesting characters here, I'm excited! I mean, I already met you, and you're super cool!"

You looked at him confused, both of you leaning in close to each other so as to not get caught talking.

"But, I haven't done anything."

"You talked to me, that's pretty cool! Most people think I can be... eh, too much." He blushes and rubs his neck in a timid manner.

In all honesty, you only talked to him to blend in, it was only chance that you ended up liking his company.

"Anyway, he said we'll be in different battle centers. Which one are you in?"

You watched him pull out his exam ticket that you were also given when you came in here and looking at it, it said he was stationed at center D.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out the folded ticket, you realized how different yours was from his.

You only had your name, your examinee number, and the battle center you placed, which luckily was also center D. He had his school picture along with other information, which the picture you had to admit was cute. In the photo his hair was black and let down, showing he changed before he got here.

You didn't have any of that because, well... they didn't have records of that.

"Ah, yes! Same battle center! I already know we'd make a great team!"

Putting the ticket back into the pocket of your baggy ripped pants, you chuckle and shake your head at him.

"You do know this is basically a competition right? We have to win points for ourselves."

"Oh, sure, but who said we would have to do it alone? Present mic didn't say anything about not teaming up!"

You supposed he was right, but you had no doubt they would be watching for that too. They most likely wanted to separate friends to get the full potential out of everyone, and you can't do that if you are working with a friend, at least not all the time.

You both went back to listening to Present mic speak, but you weren't at all focused on his words. You glanced around at all the faces around you, some were serious, some were nervous, and some were just plain cocky.

You didn't use your quirk much, not unless you really needed it, which... That's a lie, you used your quirk often, but not at it's strongest. You did that once and...

Looking down at your clothes, you pulled at your baggy shirt and shuffled in your baggy pants. They looked like hand-me-downs from an outsider's view, which in a sense they were. You just hoped no one noticed...

They were the only clothes you had.

------

After you and many other students were bussed to battle center D, your nerves began acting up again and you couldn't help bouncing your leg.

There were a lot of people already showing off their quirks and getting pumped for the exam, you on the other hand couldn't get the sinking feeling out of your chest that you were not only being constantly watched, but also looked down on.

Kirishima had changed into something much more sensible than you, but he pressured you that it wouldn't matter what you were wearing once you got into it. You held tight to those words, knowing that you'll worry yourself into a hole thinking about things you can't fix so you focused on a plan.

Which... wasn't coming to you greatly. Of course, you had thousands of ideas popping off in your mind, but you knew plans can change in seconds, especially for hero work.

"We're gonna do great, then we're gonna get in, and be in the same class, and become pro heroes, and get to be symbols of peace all on our own!"

You chuckled and looked over at the red-haired boy, who you were sure if he had a tail it would be wagging non-stop.

"You sure are confident."

"And you aren't? Come on, once you get into it, it'll be as easy as breathing!"

The busses arrived and let you off, and you let yourself fall to the back of the group waiting at the large doors of battle center D.

Kirishima stood next to you looking more determined than before, which you were surprised because you didn't think he could be any more determined. Looking up at the large door you sighed, then glanced at your hands.

This whole time, you'd be collecting as much as you could and it was making your heart race. You knew you had to release it soon, but you also knew you could still gain more.

"START!!"

The doors opened and your head shot up.

You had this.

You ran close behind everyone else, closely feeling the vibrations of their feet hitting the ground next to you. Kirishima hollered in glee as he ran, grinning so wide it must have hurt. The group started to branch off every which way, but Kirishima stayed on your path with a few other people.

A three-point bot came around the corner and you all locked onto it.

"This one's mine."

There was no room for argument as you high jumped over the group with immense power, landing, then speeding to the bot. Jumping high above it you felt the power in your building as you land on it face, then you smile and started to glow.

"Boom."

You and the robot were surrounded in bright light, then an explosion came from you and the bot, sending a couple of people who were still behind you stumbling. As the light around you dimed, you were surrounded by specs of light that looked like tiny stars. The bot beneath you fell and you jumped off, landing before it and collecting the energy from the vibrations it forced into the ground upon it falling.

You yawned as a sense of tiredness fell over you, looking back you saw a few students still watching you in awe, one of them being Kirishima who looked like he was gonna cry.

"So cool..." He whispered.

You waved at him and began to jog off, calling back to him as you left.

"I'll see you later, Kirishima, get some points!"

Kirishima was right, once you were in it, you were in it. You weren't even really thinking about points even though you knew it was almost the whole point of the test, you just couldn't bring yourself to care about it.

You destroyed many bots and even saved a lot of people who were overwhelmed or just not ready. Time was going down but you were more focused on if this was real.

You've seen what villains could do in real life, they could be anyone, anywhere, anytime. You learned quickly at a young age, life will always be against you, and you have to be ready to fight to be alive.

You came down what looked like the main street, looking side to side. You saw a couple of students downing a few bots, while others stood and looked for more. Out of the dust clouds, you saw a bit of red hair flash into view, then you saw a very focused Kirishima.

He was breathing heavily just as you were, and he was helping someone up from the group, presumably asking if they were alright.

"Hey! Kirishima!!" You waved your arms above you, trying to get his attention. You couldn't help but smile, knowing not only he was your friend, but you were also so filled with pent up power and adrenaline, you didn't care if you stuck out.

He was quick to turn his head after hearing his name, once he saw you from down the street, he smiled and waved back.

Your meet up didn't last long when suddenly the ground started to rumble and shake, you allowed some of the energy from the rumbles to leak into your body. You didn't want all of it, in fear it would be too much, but you also wanted to be ready.

Turning around, you watched a humongous hand come around the corner, bringing with it its body and your eyes grew wide.

"Holy shit... That's a big boy."

The bot stood larger than the buildings and apparently was zero points, but the points weren't what you were thinking about as it easily collapsed a whole building. The collapsed building sent a huge dust cloud your way, you covered your eyes but took in all the energy you could from the blast and the bots movements towards you.

You started to glow as you glared up at the bot.

To you, it was real, very real. It remained you too much of your time as a kid, everything was bigger than you back then, you weren't about to step down from this thing. Especially not after you heard screams and people running away.

"Uchukyuzo! What are you doing!?"

Turning, you saw Kirishima running to your side with a look of our worry.

"This thing is huge and it's not worth points!"

"That's not the point." You glared back up at the bot as it got closer and closer, your body glowed and allowed tiny bits of star-like lights to fall from you. Kirishima looked at you as if you were crazy but stood firm by your side, readying his body and smashing his firsts together.

You watched sparks fly from them as the bashed into each other, seeing his skin turn stiff. His quirk was hardening, that could be very useful.

"Okay, then... I'm with you! What's the plan?"

"Catch me, I've got the rest."

Your eyes glowed and sparkled like a night sky as you smiled at him, you could see him sweating but he nods with determined eyes.

"You got this!"

With that, you crouched and sent a large amount of power through you legs to the ground, sending you flying into the air towards the bot. It wasn't long before you landed on it, with plenty of power still left and power you absorbed from its heavy movements, you knew you just needed a little more before you could to it.

You watched its many eyes glow in response to your appearance, zeroing in on destroying you.

If you were any younger, any less prideful, you would have ran away for sure. This was the thing you would run from as a kid, hiding instead of fighting. Not anymore.

You weren't going to hide anymore, you've hidden enough in your life.

It was time for people to know your name.

You began to glow too bright for people standing by to look at, bright as the sun. You friend down at the bot as you held onto it, hoping Kirishima could actually catch you.

"Let's create a supernova!"

You screamed this as you released all the pent up power you had, simultaneously taking in and expelling that same energy all at the same time. It hurt like a bitch, but you felt that power go right through the bot and a few feet into the ground below.

All that light disappeared, then reappeared with a vengeance, basically blinding anyone who was staring too close. It was silent for a few moments, but then almost a sonic boom came from where you were. A huge burst of wind and power exploded from where you and the bot were.

The bot exploded into pieces, and the sheer power behind the explosion sent you flying upwards. You, along with everyone else watching, saw the large bursts of colorful stars come from the bot as it fell to the ground. You were sent into the air, but soon you felt yourself start to plummet.

You gasped and forced your body to face down to see where you were headed, watching the ground below quickly approach as you looked for Kirishima.

Your heart plummeted into your gut when you couldn't find him, the one person you need to help you not die. You started to use the wind coming at you as a force of power, but you knew it wasn't enough to break your fall so you wouldn't die.

"UCHUKYUZO!!"

Your eyes go wide as you saw Kirishima jump from the window of a building towards you, holding out his arms. You reached out just the same, grazing him at first, then gripping his hands as he pulled you into his chest.

You felt his skin harden all around you, and you knew he was going to try and take the brunt of the blow as he placed himself under you.

You weren't having it.

The ground quickly coming at you, you flipped and had yourself beneath him. His eyes went wide at this, but you just smiled up at him, starting you glow.

Then, you both hit the ground.

Your eyes were tightly shut, your teeth clenched, until finally you opened you mouth wide and let out a breath you were holding in, along with a groan. You heard a groan from your chest, and you opened one eye to see Kirishima slowly getting up from on top of you. He opened his eyes, first blinking and just taking in what happened, then gasping and looking up at you.

"Uchukyuzo! Oh my god, are you okay!?"

You felt one of his hands behind your head, you suspected that was him trying to protect your head from the fall, the other was moved from your lower back to the ground on the side of your hip.

You let him pull his hand out from under your head and you went limp on the ground taking deep breaths as you closed your eyes and groaned.

"I'm okay, are you?"

"I'm fine, why are you asking me that!? You took the brunt off the fall! You told me to catch you!"

"And.." You opened your eyes and started to lean up. "You did, thank you."

Kirishima got off of you and sat next to you as you sat up, rubbing the back of your head before, tiredly turning around to see the mess.

It was big. Pieces of metal were everywhere, speckled stars still fell from the sky as the dust was clearing.

You slowly stood up, Kirishima standing as well and just silently watching you. Not to your surprise, many many students crowded around and stared at you. You looked on at all of them with half-lidded eyes, the adrenaline and power you had before was no longer there and you were exhausted and beat.

"Are... You all okay?"

They all started at you, mouths gaped and eyes wide. From what you could tell, none of them were seriously damaged, which was good. You nodded and put a hand to your stomach in pain, which you then felt your own skin.

Looking down, your clothes were ripped as hell. Your shirt was now a ragged, dirty crop top, and your pant legs were ripped at your thigh and your ankle, making it this mismatched length. Your shoes were as dirty and thin as they always were, if not a few new holes.

"Wow... I look like shit."

You turn to make a joke with Kirishima about how you really should have brought different clothes, but turning you saw him with tears in his eyes and clenching his fist. He tightly closed his eyes and nodded at you.

"So manly..."

You couldn't respond before you heard the overhead voice speak and a siren goes off.

"TIMES UP!!"

For a moment you just stood there then your eyes go wide.

"Ah, shit! How many points did I get! I wasn't paying attention! Did I get enough? How many is enough? I --"

The ground beneath you shifted and the word tilted to the side which made you stumble, you groaned again and closed your eyes.

"Well... shit..."

Then it all went black and you went numb.

-------

"Will she really be okay?"

"You worry too much, young man. She will wake up in no time."

A groan left your mouth as you rolled on to your side, snuggling into the blankets and pillow beneath your head.

"... Just five more minutes."

"AH! You're awake!"

You open one of your eyes to see where you were, the room was white and standing next to you with a sheepish grin was Kirishima, and next to him was a nice-looking old lady.

"I'm awake."

"Dude, you totally passed out at the exam. You freaked me out! You freaked a lot of people out actually!"

"Oh... sorry." You closed your eyes again and yawned, then sat up and rubbed your eyes. "How long have I been out?"

"It's sunset now if that gives you a clue, my dear." The old woman said, point out the window with a chain that kinda looked like a syringe.

Looking at the window, you saw that it was indeed sunset, which made you frown and look at Kirishima.

"Shouldn't you... I don't know, be at home?" After saying this he looked at you with shock.

"I couldn't just leave you here! I would just die wondering if you were okay or not! Can't have my first UA friend die on me!"

"Oh, hush, she wasn't dying." The old lady scolded him, turning and going to her desk as he rubbed his neck with a blush tinting his cheeks.

"Well, I didn't know that..."

You smile at him, throwing your legs over the side of the bed, partly wishing you could just sleep in the bed forever.

"Thanks for worrying about me Kirishima, but you should go home, I'm sure your family must be worried."

He shook his head as the old lady came back over and handed you some small candies.

"Nah, I called them to tell them I was making sure a friend was okay, they know where I am. I'm worried about your family."

You went still at the mention of your family, vaguely shrugging.

"I'm sure they're fine."

"We couldn't find any emergency numbers in your name, my dear." The old lady said, looking at you sadly. "So, we didn't know who to call."

"It's okay, really. Kirishima, you can go home now, you know I'm okay."

He then let out a sigh and ran his hand over his shoulder.

"Would... It be okay if I walked you home? Just to know you're really okay!"

You were about to quickly deny him the offer and even felt yourself thinking of some rude away to make him go home, but... looking at his concerned face and knowing you were the reason he stayed back so late...

"... Yeah, sure."

----

Recovery girl, as you learned she was the school nurse, gave you a new pair of clothes. You thanked her over and over for them, knowing the ripped clothes you had would no doubt go to the trash.

As you walked with Kirishima, you were both quiet. It was somewhat awkward and tense, but that was your fault.

You didn't want him to see your home, you didn't want anyone to see your home. You never let anyone go near your home, fearing judgment and pity.

"So..." Kirishima started, trying to fill the silence. "Your quirk is hella cool, how do you do it?"

You thought for a moment.

"Well... I think I would call it force control. See, I can absorbed any kind of force or power. Some more than others, vibrations and impact forces are easier."

"Uh..." He looked at you confused, so you slowed down and explained.

"Meaning I can absorb vibrations from the ground or if I was hit, say, in the face, I could take that impact energy and use it for my own. I can also take in things like air, light, and sound. Other stuff too but, those ones don't work as fast as the one I mentioned before."

"So," He looked off in front of him. "Are you like, collecting energy all the time."

You hum in though, waving your hand in a so-so motion.

"Well, yes and no. If I really focus, I can absorb a lot of energy. If I'm just walking like I am, I'm collecting but just not as much, just enough to keep me going."

He groans and puts his head in his hands, you look at him in confusion.

"What-"

"Your quirk is so cool! Mine's nowhere near that cool, or flashy! I mean, you explode like a star in the sky! All I do is get hard."

You choked on the air you breathed in and screamed, covering your mouth as you laughed. At first, he thought you were laughing at his quirk, then he realized what he said and his face grew almost as red as his hair.

"AH! I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!!!!"

You both end up laughing for a while, him from embarrassment, you from it being just plain funny. After you calmed down you smiled over at him.

"Hey, honestly, your quirk is fuckin' amazing. The ability to harden your skin like a shield, making it a fantastic defense tactic, while also being able to use it offensively. That's nothing to sneeze at, Kirishima."

He shyly chuckled, looking off into the distance.

"Yeah, I guess..."

You soon came to where you planned on taking him.

"Here we are."

It was a one-story house, it was clean, white, and had a for sale sign on it. Kirishima looked at it then to you.

"You're moving?"

You shrug.

"I move around a lot."

"Oh, well, okay."

You smiled gently at him.

"Thank you for taking me home, you're a really nice guy."

He waves his hand dismissively with a smile.

"No way, it's just the right thing to do. Oh, how bout I give you my number, and we can call each other while we wait for our results!"

You felt your blood run cold as you let out a chuckle, shyly scratching your head.

"Actually, I... don't have a phone."

"Oh..."

"Sorry..."

"Eh, it's okay, I know we'll both make it in any way. No worries."

He began to turn down the street you both came from, turning back with a smile and a wave.

"See ya, Uchukyuzo."

"... Hey!"

You called out to him which made him stop and turn back to you, smiling you shrug towards him.

"Just call me Y/n."

He seemed shocked at first, then gave a huge grin and nodded.

"Sure, and you can keep calling me Kirishima or Kiri if ya want! Bye!"

You waved at him one last time, watching his disappear around a corner. As he did so, your smile vanished and you dropped your hands to your sides with a sigh.

Looking at the house you stood in front of, you glared at it, knowing you would have to switch houses soon. Not because you lived there, god no. It was because you didn't live there, you were just using its mailbox.

If you tried to live in that house, people would start to notice and you didn't want to get in trouble like that again. So, with a sigh, you turn away from the house and venture off to your real home.

If you could call it that.

Making your way to a somewhat closed-off area, you looked to see if anyone was watching, then turned down an alleyway. In the alleyway was a large wooden board set up against the wall, talking the side, you drag it to the side enough to see the narrow space between the two buildings it was leaning on.

You shuffled your way in the narrow walkway, turning and pulling the wood board back into place, then turning and going down the narrow way. Once you were at the end, there was another wooden board, which you move as well. You made your way in the small boxed off area, the shoved the wood back in place.

Turning around, you faced your real "home".

A large tipped over dumpster was where you had placed your back shift bed, made from a dirty, old, and ripped table cloth and a bunched up pile of ripped clothing you couldn't wear anymore as a pillow.

In the middle was the small trashcan that you used as a fire pit, just the left of where you slept held all your canned and stolen foods. It also held a first aid kit you had stolen and a few other things you had 'permanently borrowed' from someone.

The whole place was covered by scrap metal you have found and use as a roof for your little 'home', only enough space to let the smoke from the fire out.

Speaking of fire, you walk over and pick up your fire poker, pushing around the embers that were just barely alive. Looking to your right, you didn't have much left in your pile of flammable items so you put the poker down and decided to let the fire die.

Going to your food pile next, you looked through it. Most of the stuff had to be heated up of the fire you so nicely let die, but your stomach growled in anger of missing another meal for the four-time in a row. You didn't eat at all yesterday and you certainly didn't eat breakfast today, to you picked up the can of peaches and went over to your bed.

You didn't have a mattress, you just used some extra clothes you found here and there. You sit down, you head just barely grazing the top of the dumpster that hid your bed, opened the can and began to eat.

And by that, you just poured the contents into your mouth.

You grew to realize you can't be picky about what you ate, if you did, you'd be dead. Staring into the dying fire, you thought back to the red-haired boy you met today.

You wonder: Was he at home now? Did he have a home to go to? He said he had a family so, that's good. He must have a bed. And food. A home... Good...

"... someone as good as him doesn't deserve this fate..."

After finishing the can you put it off to the side, crossing your legs your slouch and rub your hands over your face. Covering your face your eyes start to have a familiar sting, to which you growl at and shake your head.

Crawling out of the dumpster, you pull down the lid, encasing you in darkness as you curl up. Head resting on the pile of clothes, you pull the table cloth up to your chin and close your eyes.

You couldn't help but imagine how the nurse's bed was so much better than ... this. You gently raise your hand, letting it glow. You released a burst of energy that stuck to the ceiling of the bin and floated all around it.

If you really imagined it, it was like you were floating in space, far away from earth and just... floating.

You willed yourself to close your eyes and hoped that you'd get at least a little sleep before you found out the horrors of tomorrow.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha x female reader #mha x reader #mha x female reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #x female reader

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frederator-studios · 6 years ago

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Grace Ellis: The Frederator Interview

Grace Ellis is among the most exciting comic and TV writers working today, and all from coffee shops ‘round Columbus, Ohio. The first comic she created, Lumberjanes, is a NY Times bestselling series, in development as a movie, and brought her home Eisner and GLAAD awards for her cat to try to knock over. Grace is currently writing one of the most magical comics of the year, Moonstruck, but still found time to pen some awesome episodes of Bravest Warriors season 4 (after she determined that the gig was not, indeed, a prank). Grace and I sat down to talk log-doodling, queer representation in comics, and the commonalities between Beth Tezuka and Captain America.

Having written Lumberjanes: were you a Girl Scout yourself?

For a little, until my troop disbanded! Lumberjanes re-connected me with my Girl Scout roots. The inspiration for a lot of the woodsy stuff comes from an outdoor camp I was part of. After college I worked for Autostraddle, the biggest online network for queer women. They host a weeklong sleepaway camp every year called A-Camp. It has a bunch of panels, talent shows, activities - really cool stuff. When I was a camp counselor one year in Big Bear, I made friends with an attendee, Shannon Watters, who’s a writer and editor at Boom! Comics. Later, she approached me about making a comic together.

Wow! So Lumberjanes was your very first comic... ever?!

Yup! The first issue of Lumberjanes was the first comic I ever wrote.

That’s amazing! Wait, backin’ up - what were you doing before?

My big kid job was journalism. I studied a mix of journalism, theater and women’s studies at Ohio State. After school ended I started pitching around and got a gig writing ads for Playbill. Then I got some work with Bustle too. I was doing sort of garbage writing: mostly TV recaps and some vaguely personal stuff here and there. Very little actual journalism. Then I got the job with Autostraddle when the site was still fairly new.

So you taught yourself both comic writing and screenwriting?

Pretty much! I was already familiar with story structure, so it was really about learning to adapt those elements to different formats, and take advantage of each medium. That comes with practice more than teaching. Every format is different. Like with comics, I go panel by panel, one at a time. I have to keep framing in mind while focusing on what’s happening in the scene, and what the characters are saying, because comics are super dialogue-driven. Writing comics is like trying to write the minimum in order to say the most.

How did Lumberjanes develop from the first ‘let’s make a comic!’ moment?

We drew a lot of inspiration from Ms. Kitty Fantastic and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I developed the concept with Shannon and we started from just rough outlines of the characters. Then Brooklyn A. Allen came on and designed them. And after that we brought on Noelle Stevenson as a second writer. Working all together was really smooth, a cut-and-dry process. We only needed one Skype call per issue!

Which girl in Lumberjanes are you the most like?

Molly - well, I’m always told to answer Molly! She’s the timid and unsure one. But hopefully Jo as well! I like to think that I can be a leader.

How did you come to write for Bravest Warriors?

Shannon submitted me! Benjamin (Townsend, Story Editor) reached out. I actually forwarded the email to my lawyer right away. I was sure that I was getting scammed. I was so excited when it turned out legit!

(“Catbug! You don’t just bust in on someone when they're dukin’. Buddy... we talked about this.”)

Do you have a favorite character in Bravest?

Catbug is the most fun to write. Before pitching the Detective Catbug episode I wrote this season, I prepared by hanging out with a 5 year old. It actually helped! Catbug has the funniest voice, I just love writing him. But Beth is my favorite Bravest Warrior. Once I’d nailed down who she is, I really liked writing her. She kind of reminds me of Captain America: she’s unbeatable and refuses to stay down. And she’s unapologetically herself.

She truly is That Beth. How did you first start working on Moonstruck?

It actually started as a school exercise, with no plan to extend it! 2 years ago I was doing a program with Columbus College of Art & Design, where they partner their artists with pro comic writers. I was lucky enough to be accidentally (I later found out, secretly-totally-on-purpose) partnered with Shae Beagle. The assignment was to write a 5 page scene, with 2 twists; the first building off the second. That became the opening of Issue 1: the first twist is that we’re not in a normal human coffee shop - it’s full of mythological creatures. The second is that the girl we're following who seems totally normal… well, she doesn’t view herself as normal at all.

I’ve wondered why Julie is so insecure, when she’s surrounded by such a diversity of mythological people?

For Julie, it’s really this fear of losing control. She’s has a deep sense that in her werewolf form, she’s not normal. She’s not right. So she’s internalized some really negative stuff about what that means for and about her.

Are there levels of privilege and marginalization in this world around being human or mythological?

Yes - I’ve been working on how to represent societal privilege surrounding mythological and non-mythological people. A big inciting factor in Julie’s story is her falling in love with a girl, who - spoiler alert! - is also a werewolf like she is. But Selena has a totally different perspective on who she is. She’s comfortable with herself.

Your characters are so distinct - what is your process for nailing a character’s voice?

It’s a lot of time thinking about who the character is; how they’d react to things, based on their personalities and what they’ve lived. Living close to a college is a big help because I’m surrounded by people around the age of the characters I write. Overhearing conversations is often inspirational! I also pull a lot from real life and my own friends. I have the best time writing over-enthusiastic characters: the ones that are high energy, always on, and oblivious. Julie, on the other hand - it was tougher to find her voice. She’s so timid, yet she also has this sardonic edge. It helped when I realized that she would say “Sorry” all the time. It’s her instinct to apologize for herself, even when she has no reason to! After figuring out something like that, that’s core to her character, I was able to grow her voice from there.

What do you find most challenging about writing? And most rewarding?

Being done is very rewarding! And feeling like you nailed it. The worst thing is when you don’t want to write. It’s easier now that it’s my job, because I have to do it. When I was an AV tech at a movie theater, I always wanted to write, but I wouldn’t do it. What’s tough is that I would rather think than write. Thinking is underrated. But the problem is, I know that I should write something - anything! - every single day.

Do you ever do any of your own art?

Nah, I’m not an artist. I draw sometimes. I’m a prolific log-drawer.

Logs?!

Yeah (laughs) I sometimes fixate on one thing and it becomes the only thing I doodle. Logs are that.

That is… oddly fitting! What is your creative process like?

It’s not very strict. My rule is that I leave my house every day before noon and go to a coffee shop. Then I just plug into it.

What do you like to do outside of writing?

Is there such a thing? Video games, especially during winter. Reading a lot of comics, plays and nonfiction. Biographies are great character studies. Currently, I’m reading a novel, The Blunderer by Patricia Highsmith. For writing pretty light and happy comics, I really do like books about heavy guilt and punishment...

Speaking of Patricia Highsmith - with her Price of Salt such a cornerstone in queer writing - what are your thoughts on representation and writing queer characters?

Oh yeah - we’re all familiar with the tropes. The sad stories, the coming out stories. They’re important in their way. But they aren’t what I need to write! I’m not a sad person, so I can’t just put that on. I write upbeat stories about characters who are already out and accepted. I’m a happy, out lesbian. So to represent those characters isn’t just what’s truthful to me - it also says to readers that hey, you can be a happy, out lesbian too!

Do you think there is a market for young adult media with queer characters and themes that didn’t exist a decade ago?

Absolutely. It used to be that anytime a writer put a gay or lesbian character in anything - let alone a main character - they were pigeon-holed as a ‘queer writer’. And a decade ago, that could severely limit, or even ruin, a writer’s career. Now, ‘queer media’ isn’t just a subgenre - gay and lesbian representation is coming into the mainstream. It’s a changing world. Lumberjanes did so well, it uncovered a whole market of tween, teenage girls and queer women. And there hasn’t been enough made for them! Backstagers, Zodiac: Star Force - a lot of the new comics coming out are riding on a wave of realization for the comic companies. They figured out that they were leaving money on the table when it came to queer female audiences.

What’s your advice to people who want to write comics or TV shows?

Write a lot. Write every day, if you can. It’ll make you a better writer. And put stuff on the Internet. It sounds scary, but it’s the best way to get your work seen. At this point, people are getting jobs off of Twitter. Networking is BS!

What is your Dream, or dream gig?

My dream is to write things that I’m proud of in many different mediums. A musical. A video game. A movie. I’m a really big fan of form. It’s an almost intellectual interest: the different things each format brings to the table, and how you work with each to find the best possible way to tell a story.

What are some of your favorite Things?

I loved Saturday Morning Cartoons. Recess, The Weekenders. I like weird slice of life children’s stories. Calvin and Hobbes is a huge favorite. LA Noir is my favorite video game. And one of my favorite comic artists is Alison Bechdel. She does a strip called Dykes to Watch Out For that is absolutely hilarious. ❀

Follow Grace on Twitter and Instagram.

Thanks for the interview Grace! We’ll no doubt be keeping up with you. Can’t wait for the great stories you’ll tell, across all the formats that strike your fancy!

- Cooper ❀

#The Frederator Interview #frederator studios #grace ellis #lumberjanes #boom! comics #bravest warriors #comics #moonstruck #noelle stevenson #brooklyn allen #alison bechdel #cartoons #animation #writer #patricia highsmith #interview #shae beagle #columbus

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tyranttortoise · 7 years ago

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Napstaton x Reader fluff

Raffle Winner One-shot for @bigfanofpuns Napstaton x Reader || Underswap Pacifist Surface timeline Reader specifics: aerial acrobat. ... I went a little further and did an aerial acrobat with a specialty in silk acrobatics.

*Hope you like it!

You didn't know what to expect when you got the call from a rather shy, soft-spoken person that claimed your talents were requested--but of all the possibilities you entertained, standing in front of a literal, smiling robot was never one of them.

"Yo! You must be Y/N! Gotta say, it's great to meet you in-person. You're exactly what my next show needs!"

They beam at you, and your eyes sweep over their metallic body, taking in the sight of their blue jacket and matching hat (turned around backwards to sweep the gray locks of hair from their face), the headphones around their neck, and the fist now extended out to you.

"Don't leave me hangin', dude." The robot shakes their hand toward you, and you finally snap out of your shock to awkwardly fist-bump them.

"Sorry, I just..." You trail off, so many different questions running through your mind at once, that it was difficult to pick just one.

"I know, it's kinda overwhelming meeting a star as big as me, right?" The robot reaches out and claps a hand on your shoulder, leaning forward. Your spine stiffens in surprise, but you have to admit... He's actually really handsome.

And totally a robot.

"I don't think I know who you are," you manage, your best apologetic smile plastered on your face. The robot blinks slowly, pulling back yet not breaking the physical contact. He stares at you for a moment longer before he suddenly breaks into a grin.

"Ohhh, dude! You really had me going for a second there. I doubt there's a home out there that doesn't know the name Napstaton. My NTT line is pretty rad, after all!"

The name sounds vaguely familiar. But, if this robot's famous... then...

"How do you know who I am?"

"Your video!" He releases your shoulder to give you a thumbs up. "Once I saw how talented you are with acrobatics, I was, like, so entranced! Holy cow, you're limber! How did you even start doing aerial silk shows?"

You feel your face heating up. It's always been a passion of yours; you got into gymnastics as a child, and then went from there, using uneven bars to propel yourself into flips and corkscrews mid-air. But, the moment you saw an aerial silk show, where the acrobat would twist their body between two hanging strips of silk, combining the acrobats you loved with the sensual beauty of the silk, well...

You wanted that to be you.

So, it had become a hobby. You were known for how versatile your moves were, how you basically made it into a dance. But, you only did small local performances. You never expected someone from Ebott City to take notice. And you especially never expected that someone to be a celebrity robot.

... Did he even count as a monster? Would it be incredibly rude to ask?

"It was just something I wanted to try," you finally answer, finding your voice as the initial shock wears off. "I've always been an acrobat, but the silk shows are something new I've been trying."

Napstaton raises a brow. It amazes you that their mechanical features are so expressive. Who in the world built them?

"Woah, you say that like it's so easy! Aren't you scared of falling?"

You shake your head. "Nah, I've walked tight-ropes before. As long as the silk is secured well, I won't fall."

The robot whistles low, crossing their arms. "Well, in that case, you've got nothing to worry about! We'll make sure you won't literally break a leg." They grin wide, and there's something so charming and relaxed about that expression. Is it in their programming?

Or is their something more to them?

You find yourself eager to discover what that something is.

The first day of rehearsal, you sit back and watch the performance. Napstaton is spinning records and remixing tunes in a massive DJ booth to the side of the stage. A literal pink ghost is singing, and it's the same timid voice you heard on the phone before--only it's beautiful and relaxed when put with the music. There's an equally-timid-looking, yet absurdly-muscular horse monster singing backup vocals and adding a deep baritone timbre to the mix. The two of them harmonize well, especially with the tone of the music.

There's also a blue-haired rabbit monster is scowling off to the side, dressed up as... the scenery. In fact, it seems like the only thing he adds to the performance is standing there with a crude bush costume around him, and his head sticking out of a hole.

You wisely decide not to question it.

The group runs through all of the songs, and you find yourself getting lost in the music. When they stop, you realize why they're so popular; they're mesmerizing, even without the hook of being a monster band.

Napstaton deftly jumps off the edge of the stage, landing with a metallic clunk in front of you. They're wearing their usual charming grin, filled with the content confidence of someone quite comfortable in their own skin--or metal casing, rather. "Whaddya think?"

"It sounds pretty amazing, honestly," you respond, your brows raised.

"We always sound rad," he agrees, although he does seem to brighten at your compliment. "So, can you make up a routine based on that? I can give you some CDs with the songs to take home."

"Yeah, that'll definitely help. I can come up with something."

"Cool! How about we rehearse again in a week?"

You spend all week listening to the songs and practicing at the studio your friend runs. You don’t know why, but there’s a part of you that’s eager to impress the robotic celebrity.

You can’t stop thinking about the way they smiled at you, the confidence exuding from them in waves. They had accomplished so much since ascending from Underground (you finally Googled them, and hoo boy, they weren’t joking when they said everyone knew them. Their NTT line was everywhere), and yet, they hadn’t been stuck up about it. Instead, thye’d been warm and friendly, casual even, like you were friends despite just meeting.

It was refreshing, and you want to make sure your routine is perfect. If you play your cards right, this could even be what propels you further in the world of acrobatics.

At the first rehearsal, the stage looks the same, only there’s now two long silk ropes hanging down, in the same shade of blue as Napstaton’s jacket. You’re wearing a simple leotard as you examine the silk, tugging on it, and then jumping up to swing on it slightly, making sure its secure.

“Don’t worry; I’m, like... 95% positive you won’t fall to your death.”

Napstaton’s voice startles you, and you nearly let go. They reach out and place a hand on your back, steadying you, and their fingers touch the skin exposed by the leotard. Surprisingly, they don’t feel cold, but warm... and slightly buzzing. It makes your skin tingle. “Sorry,” they chuckle. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you...ah...”

They seem to trail off, and you notice their gaze on the exposed skin of your legs. You can’t help but shift on your feet, feeling a little self-conscious. You don’t have much experience with monsters--much less robots--and aren’t sure if your attire is crossing some strange boundary. “Is this okay? The silk tends to slip if I’m wearing leggings or tights.”

“What?” They snap out of it, shaking their head. “No, no, i-it’s fine. I was just thinking that Happy is gonna have to whip you up some rad threads for the show!” There’s a soft blue glow to their cheeks suddenly that you find fascinating.

... Is Napstaton blushing?

Instead, you query, “Happy?”

That charming grin is back in-place. “Yeah, my cousin! He does lead vocals! Name’s Hapstablook, but I’ve always called him Happy.” They shrug. “It’s stuck.”

A robot with a ghost cousin? Monsters are so interesting! And so strange.

The rehearsal starts, but this time, it’s just you and Napstaton, the song playing from a CD. They still sit at the DJ booth to the side, kicked back in a chair with their feet up and their arms behind their head.

You can feel their gaze on you, intently watching.

Your face flushes, and you try to block it out.

When the music starts, you immediately grasp both ropes and climb, twisting the silk around your body as you do so with practiced ease. You invert in the silk, hanging upside down, slowly spinning in a circle as you dangle and wait for the moment when the beat of the music begins to rise. At just the perfect moment, you drop, rolling down the silk and catching yourself with your legs to spin upright. Even over the music, you catch Napstaton’s startled gasp, and when you spin around toward them, you see that they’re no longer chilling in the chair, but leaned forward with both feet planted on the ground in front of him.

Your performance is perfectly choreographed, filled with inversions, flips, and displays of your upper body strength. At one point, you slide down and catch yourself with only your ankle wrapped in the silk. At another, you stretch out sideways and spin in the silk, wrapping yourself up, only to slide down further. One song slides into another, and you keep the moves up, timing each feat with a portion of the song. When the song ends, you end up rolling down the silk from the top, only to catch yourself at the bottom, still wrapped up. One leg is bent behind your head, the other with your toe pointed down toward the floor, an arm stretched taunt and wrapped in silk, and the other extended toward the imaginary audience.

Napstaton breaks into applause and gives you a thumbs up. Their grin is the widest you’ve seen yet.

“Your rad performance is definitely going to be our grand finale!”

The next week, Napstaton’s made some notes on your cues. The adorable pink ghost, Happy, films you during rehearsal, and Napstaton remixes a few of the beats to better fit the fluidity of your moves. They’re mostly content to let you do whatever you want on the silk--NT seems utterly blown away by your flexibility, and super chill about the entire thing.

It’s nice and sets you at ease.

Later that week, Happy gets your measurements and runs some costume designs by you. It’s fun sitting just talking to the ghost, and although he seems really shy, when he talks about music, his entire face lights up.

“.....Napsta has been watching your video a lot,” Happy comments quietly a few days later, while hemming part of your outfit.

“Yeah?” You quirk a brow, twisting your neck to glance at the pastel specter. Happy’s cheeks are even pinker than usual when he nods. “Isn’t that how I landed this gig in the first place?”

“N-not that video.... the one from rehearsal. They’re really impressed...”

You can’t help but feel the flush rise to your cheeks. The idea of Napstaton, watching your perform with that same intensity they had in their gaze the first time they saw your acrobatic feats in-person, well... It made you happy.

“I’ve been listening to their music nonstop lately, myself,” you admit, omitting the fact that you bought an NTT shirt with Napstaton’s face on it a few days prior. You maaayyy or may not be using it as your new favorite sleep shirt.

In the mirror, you see Happy’s smile brighten.

After rehearsal the following day, Napstaton catches you once you change out of your leotard and into normal clothes. “’sup? Wanna grab a bite before you go home?”

Dinner with a celebrity? You should probably feel nervous, but instead... that charming grin makes you feel at ease. “Sure, is Happy joining us?”

NT shrugs. “Nah. Said he already ate, so I guess it’s just you and me.”

Now that makes you feel slightly jittery, but you’re happy to accept their offer. You wonder what kind of fancy restaurant a famous DJ would like to eat at. You’re not exactly dressed for anything that they could possibly--

They park the car at McDonald’s.

You can’t help but laugh, and Napstaton rubs the back of their neck. “Uh, you don’t like Mickey D’s?”

“Just not what I was expecting,” you claim with a grin. “You’re just... down-to-Earth for a monster celeb. Or robot celeb?”

“Either works. I’m still a monster, ya’know. Got a SOUL and everything.” They tap their chest with their fist, and the heart-shape imprinted in their design begins to glow a faint white.

A robot with a SOUL? Maybe that’s why they’re so expressive.

“But yeah. I mean, I try to be. Never have been the fancy type.” They shrug, looking slightly abashed. “Were ya, like.. hoping for somethin’ more? We can go somewhere else.”

You open up the car door, shaking your head. “This is perfect, NT. Let’s go.”

The two of you order burgers, chicken nuggets, and fries, then find a corner booth to sit and talk. You learn a little more about what drove Napstaton to stardom, and you finally ask them how they’re cousins with a ghost.

“Easy-peasy. I used to be one, too, before the totally awesome Doctor Undyne built me this body!”

“What? Are you telling me you’re a literal ghost in the machine?” Your eyes are huge. “How did you become a ghost? Did you die?” The inquires get blurted out before you can think about how insensitive that sounds. Whoops. You start to back-pedal. “Sorry. I mean...”

NT waves their hand dismissively. “No biggie. I was born a ghost.” Their grin turns amused. “Humans have such weird ideas about ghosts.” They get up and throw away the trash, but instead of heading back to the car, they tilt their head toward the nearby park. “Wanna walk off all of that greasy fast food.”

You want to prolong the night. “Why not?” With a shrug, you follow them down the sidewalk, chatting about yourself--what got you into aerial acrobatics, why you decided to try silk ropes, the first time you had successfully walked a tight rope--and Napstaton gave you their full, undivided attention.

There’s a moment of silence before you decide to voice a question that’s been weighing on your mind. “Why did you want a robotic body?”

NT’s smile fades around the edges slightly, the light in their eyes seeming faraway as they look straight ahead. They’re quiet for a moment, and you immediately regret asking, but then they speak up, “I wanted to be like the humans.” That admission catches you by surprise, and when you turn toward them, Napstaton reaches out and takes your hand. “I wanted to be corporeal--to be able to touch and be touched, and not just with my music.”

You don’t really know what to say to that. Your fingers shift to lace with NT’s, and you squeeze their hand. “I’m glad you got to do everything you’ve dreamed of, NT.”

Their charming grin returns, and they squeeze your hand in return. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The day of the show, you discover the stadium is packed. There are even people sitting in the grass past the seats, and large jumbo screens situation on either side of the stage to showcase the performance.

Holy crap, you’re nervous.

Napstaton grins, winding an arm around your shoulders as you peek out from behind the curtain. “Ready to give ‘em a show, Y/N?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, your nerves fluttering in your stomach. NT laughs, pulling you against their side and squeezing your upper arm.

“You’ll knock ‘em dead. So totally dead, in fact, that they might even become ghosts and haunt the place. Isn’t that, like... the human stereotype?” Their grin is shit-eating at this point.

“Ha ha. I think Happy’s the only ghost we need haunting the place. And, well--you, if you count. But Happy wouldn’t scare a soul.”

“Not on purpose, anyway,” NT comments, laughing. They squeeze you one more time. “Alrighty, it’s totally showtime. Let’s put on a rad performance!”

And they did.

You watch most of the show from the side, listening to the haunting (ha) vocals and melodies, followed by a few more up-beat songs. When your cue comes, you cross the stage to a chorus of cheers, all because of your costume, courtesy of Happy.

You’re dressed like Napstaton.

Your leotard has a blue heart in the center, and you’re wearing the same baggy-style dance pants as them, completely with a hat turned backwards. Your grand entrance involves a backhand spring toward the silk, which suddenly tumbles down from the ceiling. When you regain your footing at the ropes, you rip off the dance pants (Happy was sure to just have the sides snap in place, making the feat easy) and throw the hat into the audience like a frisbee.

Of course, they eat it up.

Your blood is pumping in your ears, your nerves jittery. If it wasn’t for the rush of adrenaline, you’re certain your hands would be shaking, but at this point, you’ve practiced so much that you can do the entire routine on auto-pilot. As you spin upside-down on the silk, waiting for the right moment in the song to fall, your gaze catches Napstaton’s, and he takes a hand off the controls to give you a thumbs up and that grin that makes you so weak now.

You hit your cue perfectly. The crowd loves it. You can vaguely hear Happy’s singing over the pounding of your heart. There’s a couple of times where your motions could have synced better with the music, but overall, you’re giving the performance of your life. By the second-half of the last song, you notice another voice join the vocals, a tenor complimenting Happy’s soft voice. Slowly, it begins to overtake the vocals, rising in volume and absolutely stunning. That had never happened in rehearsals.

At the end, when you roll down the silk ropes, coming into your final pose where your body is stretched within the binds, you realize who’s been singing. And you definitely don’t remember those lyrics.

And I can’t sleep at night ‘cause the ghost of your touch still haunts me.

Napstaton is standing in front of the silk ropes, and they reach up and skillfully untangle your ankle, freeing your leg. With your arm still wrapped in the bright blue silk, NT slides an arm around your waist and dips you back with a smirk. The audience goes nuts, but it all fades to white noise in the background. You’re too entrance by the face that’s only inches from yours.

“I thought you hated ghost stereotypes.”

They shrug, looking mischievous. “Thought it was most def ironic--you hauntin’ me.”

You blink slowly. If you weren’t already out-of-breath from several minutes of showcasing your upper (and lower) body strength, your breath would have hitched.

“You mean, you wrote that part.... about me?” you manage, your gaze wide and searching theirs.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

In the next moment, you grab NT’s hat, pull it off their head and to the side of their face--and then wrap an arm around their neck and kiss them right then and there. The entire stadium erupts in the loudest cheering and applause you’ve ever heard. When they pull back, NT looks surprised, their lips still slightly parted.

“Maybe for my next song I can write about how your kiss makes me malfunction.”

You groan, swatting them with their own hat, while they just give you that grin.

If you wrote a song, it would be about how it never fails to give you butterflies.

(* Mobile Imagine Masterlist )

#undertale imagine #napstaton #underswap #fluff #drabble #fic raffle #raffle winners #i've never written anything for napstaton before #so i just rolled with it #also kudos to night for the silk suggestion #i watched a ton of videos and then didn't go into that much detail #but hopefully still enough to make it cool #i really hope you like this!

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magicalgirlmascot · 8 years ago

Note

24 with............ broly/raditz ;)

“Oh my God, you’re in love with them!”

Yamcha plopped down on the bench next to Raditz and leaned back against the table. “So what’s eating you?”

Raditz glared at him. “Nothing.”

“Dude, you’re bouncing your leg hard enough to set off a Richter scale. You only do that when something’s bothering you. So what’s up? Maybe I can help.” Yamcha grinned at him. Something in Raditz’s gut clenched. It had been years since he’d first arrived on Earth, since he kidnapped his nephew and tried to eradicate all life on the planet. In that time, he’d tried to prove he was worthy of everything Kakarott had done for him. He’d fought monsters that far outstripped him in power, he’d died trying to set things right. (He came back, but he’d still died.) But that wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t deserve the friendliness offered to him by Kakarott’s friends, by his nephew.

By Broly, of all people.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “don’t worry your pretty head over it.”

Yamcha glared at him. “Look, I’m trying to be nice here. You’ve gotta talk about your feelings and shit with somebody and it may as well be me. You really want to hash your feelings out with Goku? Or worse, Vegeta? How about Piccolo, or Tien, or one of the other emotionally repressed assholes we keep hanging out with?” Raditz grimaced. None of those sounded appealing. Yamcha slugged him in the arm. “Come on, you can talk to me. I promise not to laugh.”

Raditz glanced across the park to where Broly was receiving meditation lessons from Piccolo. Ever since he’d crashed on Earth, he’d been making the same efforts as Raditz. Honestly, Raditz understood. There was something about Earth that made you want to protect it, even though it was as backwoods as planets got and probably wouldn’t even join the intergalactic community for a few more decades at best. It was quaint. And apparently, even the Legendary Super Saiyan himself wasn’t immune to its qualities.

That, at least, made him feel a little better.

“It’s like this,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “Now that Broly’s here, I feel like I should…I don’t know, try to be closer to him, I think? He’s one of only four remaining full-blooded Saiyans. And really…of all of us, I’m the oldest left. I’m the only one who remembers some of our traditions and stuff. Vegeta knows because Nappa made us learn, but he doesn’t care, and getting Kakarott to sit still long enough to learn anything takes either a miracle or six tons of rock.” Yamcha snorted. “But Broly–I don’t know. I just want to talk to him, I think. But he’s avoiding me because I look like Kakarott, and it bothers me. I’m not really sure why.”

Yamcha patted his shoulder sympathetically. “I’m sure Broly will warm up to you, Raditz. Hell, if Chi-Chi can, so can he.” He laughed and Raditz scowled. “Look, just go over and say hi, okay? It’s not hard. Maybe ask if you can join in the meditation lessons.”

Raditz bared his teeth. “I hate meditation.” Most Saiyans hated sitting still by nature. Their blood called for action, for violence–meditation wasn’t something they generally put much stock in. The only reason Broly was agreeing to it was in an attempt to calm and control his insane power. “Besides, Piccolo still doesn’t like me.”

“Piccolo doesn’t like anyone except Gohan; I wouldn’t take it personally.” Raditz snorted. “Go on, it’ll be fun! Well, okay, not fun, but it’ll be a start, anyway.”

Reluctantly, Raditz pulled himself to his feet. “If this goes badly, I’m blaming you.”

“Sure, whatever.” Yamcha waved him off. “Knock ‘em dead. Actually wait, no, don’t do that.”

“Too late,” Raditz called over his shoulder, sauntering towards Broly and Piccolo.

Broly looked up when Raditz approached and Piccolo immediately slapped his knee. “Concentrate, dammit,” he muttered.

“Raditz is here,” Broly said quietly, pointing.

Piccolo cracked an eye open and glared. “What?”

Raditz folded his arms. “I want to join in. That a problem?”

Broly perked up and turned to Piccolo. “Can he?”

Piccolo eyed Raditz, then sighed and closed his eye again. “Fine. So long as you’re quiet.”

Broly was becoming a problem.

Or, well, it wasn’t Broly himself that was the problem, if Raditz was being honest, but if there was one thing Raditz was good at it was not being honest with himself. He’d succeeded with his original plan of talking to Broly, getting a little closer to him, finding out more about him. And Broly was actually a really interesting guy. He was a lot quieter than Raditz expected when he wasn’t a screaming rage monster. He listened when Raditz talked–really listened, not just pretend-listening so Raditz would go away faster, or pity-listening. He seemed genuinely interested in Raditz and what he had to say.

And he was cute. Raditz wasn’t going to deny that. Broly was downright cute when he wasn’t the Legendary Super Saiyan, and having seen his other form Raditz could safely say that even as the Legendary Super Saiyan he was still hot as hell. He hated shirts in the same way that Raditz hated long pants, refusing to wear them unless strictly necessary.

The thing was that there was a sadness to him, a distance in his eyes, even when he was paying close attention to what was happening. Raditz could recognise it as the look of someone afraid of getting attached because they’re used to having what they want ripped from them without warning. He could empathize with it.

Broly laughed at Raditz’s jokes. Raditz prided himself on his awful, awful puns, sometimes getting into a pun-off with Yamcha to the dismay of everyone around them. And Broly laughed at every single one.

No, Broly himself wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Broly was perfect.

“Oh my God,” Yamcha said when Raditz told him all of this. “You’re in love with him.”

Raditz wrinkled his nose. “I am not.”

“You are!” Yamcha laughed and Raditz scowled. “Holy shit, you are totally in love with him! That’s…that’s fucking hilarious oh my God.”

“When you’re done laughing at my expense,” Raditz snapped, “I’m not in love with Broly. It’s just that he’s fucking perfect and it’s making me feel even more inferior than usual, jackass. Thanks for wrecking my day.”

“Okay, first of all.” Yamcha sat up straight, totally serious. “Broly is not perfect. I mean yeah he’s got the Legendary thing going for him, which is cool I guess, but the guy can barely talk without running away, he’s literally freeloading at the Lookout until further notice because Goku begged Piccolo and Dende to let him, and he is the clumsiest person I’ve ever seen. Seriously, just yesterday I watched him bump into a china cabinet of Mrs. Briefs’s and almost cry about it. That kid’s got issues, Raditz. He’s not perfect.”

Raditz hesitated. None of that sounded all that bad to him.

“Secondly,” Yamcha continued, “you should ask him out.”

Raditz looked flatly at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on! It’d be fun!” Yamcha leaned in conspiratorially. “I bet he’s a real monster in bed, you know.”

He could feel his face turning red. “That’s not–no, I’m–look, you don’t get it. Even if I wanted to ask him out, which I don’t, he’s so much stronger than me.” Yamcha raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean much to you, but for Saiyans strength is everything. There’s too big a gap between us. And his father was decently high-ranking, or at least higher than my parents. So there’s that. I can’t ask him out. Not that I want to,” he added hastily. “It’s just…annoying, that he’s so great, that’s all.”

The smirk Yamcha gave him told him he wasn’t convinced. “Okay, sure. Whatever you say.” He stood up from the table and stretched. “Well, I guess I’m heading out. Say hi to Goku and Chi-Chi for me.”

“Raditz!”

Raditz pulled his blanket over his head. It was too early to be dealing with his sister-in-law’s yelling.

“Raditz, march your keister down here right this minute, bucko!”

He groaned and sat up, blinking blearily at the clock on the wall. It was definitely too early for this. He didn’t bother getting dressed, deciding that Chi-Chi could deal with his star-printed boxers and worn-thin t-shirt as punishment for waking him so early. He dragged himself down the stairs, rubbing groggily at his face.

“Whatever you want better be important,” he started as he walked into the living room. What he saw immediately woke him up the rest of the way.

Broly stood in the middle of the living room, hands awkwardly at his sides. He perked up when Raditz made eye contact. Chi-Chi stood in front of him, glaring between Broly and Radiz. “He said he’s here to see you,” she said curtly. “Whatever it is, you two are settling this outside, and away from the house, you hear? If you’re going to get into fights I want you to leave my house out of it.”

“Oh, I’m not here to fight, ma’am,” Broly reassured her.

Chi-Chi seemed to relax at being addressed as ‘ma’am.’ “Well, take it outside anyway. Raditz, you can come have breakfast when you’re done.” She shooed them out of the house and shut the door behind her.

Raditz turned to Broly. “What the hell are you doing here?” Broly looked down and scratched his nose instead of replying. “Uh, Base 633 to Broly, you there?” He waved a hand in front of Broly’s face.

“Do you really think all those nice things about me?” Broly blurted.

Raditz blinked, then realisation dawned. “Y-you–have you been talking with Yamcha?”

Broly looked up at him with a smile, timid but wide. “Maybe.”

“I’m gonna kill him.” Raditz ran a hand through his hair and stalked around in a circle. “I’m gonna kill him and his stupid cat.”

“Don’t,” Broly said, putting a hand on Raditz’s arm. Raditz almost flinched away, but held his ground. “If he hadn’t said anything I might not have known my feelings were returned.”

Wait.

“F-feelings?” he stammered. “You have–what kind of feelings?”

Broly stepped towards him and his smile brightened when Raditz didn’t move back. “Raditz, son of Bardock and Gine, would it be alright if I started courting you?”

A million thoughts and feelings flashed through Raditz’s mind at once–this was wrong, they were of completely different levels, they couldn’t be together, he didn’t like Broly like that, but yes he did, and who cared, they were on Earth now, they could play by Earth’s rules–before he nodded. “I think I’d like that.”

Broly’s smile was as perfect as the rest of him. “Courting starts now,” he murmured, and then his lips were on Raditz’s in a kiss Raditz hadn’t realised he’d been waiting for.

#ask ed #dbz #dragon ball z #brorad #writing #fanfiction #strong as a saibaman #legendary cinnamon roll

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barry-writes · 8 years ago

Text

Weakness - Part 4

Summary: You're an old acquaintance of Barry Allen and The Flash’s enemy, but when you’re together you’re way more than that. You’re struggling with your evilness and Barry wants to help. Will you let him?

Pairings: Barry Allen x reader

Word count: 1635

A/N: Yay, here’s the next part! I hope you’re enjoying the progression of the story so far :) I had fun writing this one, I hope you like it too! As always, opinions and suggestions are welcome x

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6

Masterlist

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”, you asked, hesitantly walking through STAR Labs's hallways.

“Yes! I told you, my friends can help you just like they helped me”, Barry said squeezing your hand.

“But do they know about me? Have you told them anything?”, you raised your eyebrows.

“Not really...”.

“Barry, you know I can’t just let anyone know who I am, right?”, you stopped mid-step and let go of his hand. “I can end up in jail”, you whispered.

“Y/N, I’m not gonna let anyone take you to jail! Just trust me”, he said pulling you back to walk with him.

You just rolled your eyes and let out a loud sigh, still uncertain of his plan. You finally reached the main room of the building where you quickly eyed a bunch of gathered people, which made you ten times more nervous. Barry dragged you inside with him and everyone turned around when they heard the footsteps. You just stood there tugging at his hand and looking down, much like a scared, timid child.

“Barr, what’s going on?”, Joe asked with a deep voice that kind of intimidated you. “Why did you call us here?”.

“Well, we have a small problem”, he said turning to you.

“Wait”, Cisco started. “Is that the girl from Jitters?”, he asked with clear amusement in his voice, pointing at you.

“Uh, yeah. Guys, this is- ”.

“Y/N Y/L/N”, Iris said dryly, making you snap your head up in shock.

“Great, you remember her...”, Barry said letting out a deep breath.

“How could I forget?”, she said crossing her arms, angry eyes fixated on you.

“Nice to see you too, Isis”, you mumbled.

“Iris”, Barry whispered.

“Iris!”, you quickly corrected yourself.

“Why the hell is she with you? Barry, what is this?”, she asked staring at her friend.

At this point everyone was just standing there, eyes moving from Iris to you to Barry, all trying to understand the situation.

“Look, I understand you’re a little shocked for seeing her after all this time, but- ”, Barry started to explain but was cut.

“What I’m more shocked about is that you’re still here? I heard that the Y/L/N family died in a fire, I thought that included you”, the girl said harshly.

“Iris!”, Barry shouted, surprised with her words. “What is wrong with you?”.

“Wow”, you nervously laughed, placing your hands on your hips. “I told you this was a bad idea. I’m leaving”, you said to Barry before turning around and walking to the door.

“No, you’re not”, he said pulling you back by the waist. “Can you just forget for a moment the problems you had with each other ten years ago and focus on this? This is important”, he tried to reason, moving his hand back and forth between the two of you.

You crossed your arms and kept looking down, annoyance clear on your face. Iris did the same.

“C’mon, you promised you would try”, Barry whispered in your hair.

“Okay, fine”, you said throwing your hands. “But if anyone talks about my family again I swear to God- ”.

“No one’s gonna talk about it again, right, Iris?”, Barry quirked his eyebrow at her.

“Right. Sorry I brought that up”, she rolled her eyes.

“Nice, so- ”.

“Is anyone here understanding a damn thing? Because I’m not”, Joe said turning to the two scientists.

“Nope”, Cisco shook his head.

“Uh, so, you said you had a problem? I’m guessing this involves...”, Caitlin motioned her hands to you.

“Y/N”, you said.

“Right, sorry. What’s the problem with Y/N?”.

“Yeah, well... You guys remember our good metahuman friend, Arsonist, right?”, Barry said.

“We sure do”, Caitlin replied, turning her lips into a small pout.

“Did you get in trouble with her?”, Cisco asked pointing at you.

“I guess you could say that”, you mumbled.

“You see, she is...”, Barry waved his hands in your direction, not sure of what to say. “Her. She’s her”.

“What?”, they asked in unison.

“Yep”, you said playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Well, I kind of always knew you’d turn into a mass murderer at some point”, Iris said sarcastically.

“Hey, I’m not a murderer!”, you protested. “I just...set things on fire”.

“Yeah, let’s go back to that”, Cisco said taking a few steps towards you. “How do you do that exactly?”.

You turned the palms of your hands up and suddenly bright, red flames appeared, making them jump slightly in surprise.

“Woah! That’s super cool!”, the long haired boy said excitedly, covering his mouth with his hands.

You shrugged and shot him a little smile, putting out the flames.

“And what seems to be the problem here? Despite the fact that you can shoot fire out of your hands”, Joe asked, his brown eyes still wide.

“I’m losing control of my powers”, you admitted. “I could go and do what I wanted before, I knew what I was doing, but now if I use them I can’t stop, it gets out of hand”.

“It started about a month ago when she was triggered by...something personal...and it’s been like that ever since”, Barry told them.

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to stay in and not use them for anything, but it’s terrible. I feel terrible. It’s like it calls me and demands me to use it, and it takes everything in me to not cave in. I’m going insane”, you sighed and Barry sympathetically rubbed your shoulder.

“I thought if anyone could help her it would be team Flash, right?”, Barry said with a tight smile.

“Team Flash? Seriously?”, you whispered looking up at him, stifling a chuckle.

“Not now, Y/N”, he replied in the same tone. “So, do you think we can do something?”, he said looking at his friends.

“How exactly can we be sure that we can trust her?”, Iris challenged. “Other that she is a villain, we know nothing about her. We could die”.

“Iris, please- ”, Barry sighed.

“Okay, listen. I know is hard to believe a villain, I wouldn’t either, but I’m here because of Barry. For some reason he thinks that I can be better and he wants to help me do so. He’s the only person that cares for me and I wouldn’t let him down, so I garantee you can trust me. I won’t do anything. I just want to be okay again and move on with my life”, you said looking at Barry and giving him a soft smile, which he returned.

“Well, I suppose I can start by running some tests on her to see if everything’s okay?!”, Caitlin said in a questioning tone.

“Nice! Thanks, Cait”, Barry beamed at her.

“Of course”, she grinned. “Y/N, you can come with me”.

You looked at Barry worriedly, your eyes practically screaming if you should or shouldn’t go. He nodded and gave you a reassuring smile that somehow made you feel calmer. You then followed the doctor to the nursing room, she closed the door behind her and asked you to sit on the bed, you did carefully and kept looking at the floor while she took out her equiptment.

Caitlin walked over to you with a needle and some tubes so she could take a few blood samples. She cleaned your arm with a cotton ball wet with alcohol and followed the procedure, making you wince as the needle pierced your skin. She quickly took three samples and placed a band-aid on the small bleeding area.

“Is everything okay?”, she asked you.

“Yeah, thanks”, you quietly said rubbing your thumb in your arm. “Also thanks for agreeing to help”.

“It’s no problem, really. I can see how desperate you are. Trust me, I know what you’re going through”, she said.

“Yeah, I’m sure you do”, you scoffed.

“Actually...”, she turned to you and lifted the sleeves of her blazer, revealing a metal bracelet on her wrist.

“What is that?”.

“Something that Cisco made so I could hold my powers back”.

“Wait, you have powers too?”, you asked confused and she nodded. “What kind?”.

“Ironically enough, I have ice powers”, she shrugged.

“No way!”, you said excitedly, earning a chuckle from her. “And why do you have to use that?”.

“Like you, I lost control of them”, she said sitting in the bed next to you. “When I used them it was like I became another person. A mean person”.

“Did you do something bad?”.

“I tried to kill Barry, so...”.

“Me too”, you winced. “Poor Barry”, you both laughed.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Iris? She seems very bothered by you”.

“Well, I was kind of the mean girl in high school, you know? Guess she didn’t leave the past behind”, you shrugged.

You talked for a few more minutes then Caitlin continued with the tests, doing everything she thought it could be useful to you. Meanwhile, in the cortex, Barry sat with Joe, Iris and Cisco, talking about you.

“I’m down to helping her, I mean, we could train her to help Barry. She can be useful”, Cisco said and Barry nodded.

“So, we’re going to welcome a villain to our team? Just like that?”, Iris argued.

“Y/N is not a villain, okay? She doesn’t want to be, that’s why I’m helping her”, Barry explained, getting up from his seat and pacing around the room.

“Did you forget what she did to us? To you?”, the girl crossed her arms.

“No, but she’s different now. She’s not that person anymore, Iris”.

“You still like her, don’t you?”, she furrowed her eyebrows. “All of these years and your crush hasn’t gone away”.

“It’s not like that, okay?”, he said stopping in front of the nursing room, looking at you through the small window on the door. “It’s...complicated”.

#barry allen imagine #barry allen x reader #barry allen oneshot #the flash imagine #the flash x reader #barry allen fanfiction #barry allen series #weakness #mine

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meatlong · 8 years ago

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Tuesday night in the great rounded hall. The wall screens play a cartoonish nightscape, with exhaustedly happy sheep frolicking through crudely drawn stars. There are 150 chairs in the hall, soft leather recliners with thin metal wracks holding brainwavers, delicate strips of aluminum and plastic, fasteners on the backs to fit any size cranium. Fearsome grown men. Timid, waifish girls. Relaxing music plays all around, the kind of tunes to accompany a beautiful sunrise. And the center’s voice system guides us smoothly, gently. “Take a seat everyone, there is no rush. Make yourself comfortable, take care not to choose a spot near someone who will distract you from your relaxation.” Her voice is caramel pouring in ribbons on a chocolate commercial. It runs down the spine, inflicting the autonomous sensory meridian response. The sound of a mother, hushed, telling you, “Everything is alright, everything is as it should be.”

I sit in the second last row, peel off my hospital shoes. Attendants will come around and administer the brainwavers, but the majority of us are more than capable of setting the equipment ourselves. The attendants wear squishy polyurthane masks with pleased, sleepy faces on them. When you’re a child it’s calming. At 20 the facelessness of the attendants is unnerving. I can tell who they are by freckles on the hands, by the shape of fingernails. The attendant with the squared off nails and the overgrown cuticles, with the light beige birthmark on the left side of the right wrist, fits my brainwaver over my skull. The animatronic face of her foam helm shifts from serene to serenely satisfied. “Good job!” the mouthpiece says without moving. There is a piece of hardware beneath my skin, above where face flesh moulds out into the arch of my ear shell, on either side of my face. They say you can’t notice them, but you do. When you know they’re there and you think about them, you can feel it. Like a pressure to the temples. A doorway always slightly ajar. Around the hall, the faces of the attendants switch over. A chorus of “Good job!” interrupts the peaceful swell of music. The attendants file towards a portion of the nightscape at the back of the hall that is an illusion, an overlapping of screens leading to a doorway meant only for staff. Soon enough, it is only the patients laid out in recliners, linked up, watching the sheep endlessly tumble over each other. “You are a wave,” the voice system murmurs. “You are receeding and climbing forward. You are the salt spray of the ocean, you are the call of a bird long out to sea.” The music shifts subtly, letting in the noises of the coast. Where are the oceans now? Is this a recording, or a recreation? “You are the smallest guppie, you are growing and growing beneath the water, to the great and powerful majesty of the humpback whale.” The softest recollection of a whale call, something belonging to another world entirely. It’s all a means of distracting, but we have done this too many times not to feel when the brainwavers engage. The slight pinch at the temples, that sick dropping sensation. I can see the room all around me still, but everything is a little less sharp. Sheep bound from the screens, they jump a little higher than they should, onto the blackness of the ceiling. One slips free of the screens and meanders through the chairs. A humpback moans and I can feel it in the basin of my chest. A school of fish descends from the darkness of the ceiling, swarms playfully around the sheep. Someone nearby giggles; we drop off into assisted slumber.

My computer dream is usually like this: I’m in an endlessly expansive city, and the buildings look old but are upkept. The people are cheerful, the sun is shining. There are many parks with deep woods, there is green life sprouting everywhere. Fantastical flowers sprouting from the ivy. I can float at will, I can tower over everything. The walls crackle with green lightning at night, and there are friends and familiar faces everywhere. It is all built by me, and I control everything. Some nights I fall into harams of ecstatic, squelching bodies. Sometimes I lounge on a boat in the wide, meandering river with my One True Love. They have face that is always changing but always so beautiful. The city was smaller when I was a child. I had a crew of friends who would take me on wild adventures. We would run through the wharfs in the expansive night, we would find dead bodies and seek out murderers. Board massive wooden spaceships and explore the inky heavens, the stars turning to laterns skimming a pool of blackness. Some nights I was a vampire, living alone in the ancient cathedral in the heart of downtown, ringing the bells and striking fear into the hearts of slackjawed denizen. My One True Love would cower before me, ask for forgiveness for some wrong-doing I never quite found a name for. Typical teenage fantasies. But now I run through trees, now I build strange altars and pray in the lushness. There is a god in the city now who is not me, there is a god in the city who wears herself like a snake. The darkness of the rock, the maw her slick body piles through. They monitor the dreams. They watch them in foggy shapes on screens somewhere. I can taste green life in my head, but the lights go on one by one in the great rounded hall. The attendants have animatronic expressions of the slightest sorrow. It’s over now. The brainwavers peel off of our skulls, they slide back into their predestined slots in the wracks. “Give yourself a moment to reflect, to regain your sense of here, of now,” the voice system says. “It is Tuesday, in the year 2089. Wriggle your toes, feel them against the cool tiles of the floor. Wriggle your fingers, feel them against the softness of the chair...”

~*~

I’m not sure of my name. I live in the Joan Block, where every girl is called Joan and seperated with a letter. My letter is Q, Joan Q, but I read so many things on my e-Book. Sometimes I will be Howard, sometimes I will be Ginger. Recently I’ve been The Nettle, but I feel like that is a name I won’t hold on to for long. There was a long, long time of using the name I-Me, something to single myself out. I-Me is what feels best. I don’t know where the Center is located. I don’t know how I came to live here. I don’t know how big the compound is. There are many locked doors, and many corridors that aren’t locked that instinctually I’ve never wandered down. We can open the doors of our rooms at night, but we rarely do. The Center is our home, we are used to its rules. For most of my life I thought the windows looked outside, I thought we were surrounded by beautiful but fearsome mountains. Gaping blue skies, tremulous waterfalls. Early this year, the year of 2089, Joan W (who rages on and off and makes herself vomit after every meal) threw herself headfirst into the window to get to the other side. The screen shattered and oozed purple fractured light before blinking out completely. All the Joans watched it with a bad, crawly feeling over us, and while Joan W lay ignored and unconscious on the floor, attendants swarmed the rest of us off to the great rounded hall to dream. If I really think about it, that was the first night I built the shrine. Just a little one. I stacked tree bark and lit the long grasses on fire and slept black sleep in the center of the flames. There are things for us to do. We go to classes, we learn mostly maths, physics, biochemistry. I am a good student, but I daydream. Many of the Joans crawl in and out of each other’s beds. We kiss with loose lips, half-bored, and fumble expertly in each other’s pants because there are no secrets of our bodies anymore. Sometimes I wonder at other blocks, blocks of Kristins and Gregorys and Marks and Amandas. I wonder at things unexplored, things outside of Joan A’s assurance that we are angels. Things outside of Joan W mumbling to herself, pacing the hall in the night. Things outside of Joan R using too much teeth below the ocean of covers. Justins, Danicas, Gideons, Mariahs. Marys, Tommys, Hannahs, Olivias. They’re here, even if we Joans don’t see them. They leave their evidence behind. Messages engraved in the plastic tops of the desks. ‘SANDY WAS HERE’ or a wavering little ‘hello’. Socks shoved in the back of the toilet to make the water spill over. The attendants try to clear it away, but it isn’t a secret there are others. We follow a schedule so as to never see each other, chasing ghosts through the halls. We move through modules. Their heads lull back as the sheeps peel woollen bodies from the wall. Identical lives, one hour removed.

~*~ We Joans are in the classroom. The attendant wears a face of stern concentration. They sit on a stool, holding a pointer across their laps. The headsets in the classroom are similar to the brainwavers. They feed us data, they create an expansive pocket in our heads for that data to sit. Eventually we will form four even lines to the board, we will use a stylus to answer a slew of questions on the material we have injested. The mask will say, “Correctness is key!” If one of us makes a mistake, we sit back at the desks and repeat the lesson from the beginning. In my ears, the disciplinary voice of the auto-instructor says, “Suppose the world is super-deterministic, with not just inanimate nature running on behind-the-scenes clockwork, but with our behavior, including our belief that we are free to choose to do one experiment rather than another, absolutely predetermined, including the ‘decision’ by the experimenter to carry out one set of measurements rather than another, the difficulty disappears.” In my ears, as I rearrange particle diagrams that float gently all around me, the auto-instructor says, “There is no need for a faster-than-light signal to tell particle A what measurement has been carried out on particle B, because the universe, including particle A, already ‘knows’ what that measurement, and its outcome, will be.” And I feel it like a finger barely running down the nodules of my spine. The taste in the back of my throat grows, the greenness blooming at the base of my skull. She is with me. The lesson continues, the theorems appearing, being solved, evaporating at my fingertips. I am suddenly aware of every part of my anatomy existing in a plastic school chair, and the tremulous effort of continuing the lesson as if nothing is wrong. Through the streams of data in front of my eyes, I can see the instructors fixed expression. Do they notice me? Are they looking at me? Impossible to tell. Behind me, I hear the thud of her body hitting the floor. I can hear the soft hiss of her scraping over the polished linoleum. The instructor drones on, the words fall into the brain pocket undigested. “There is a way to escape the inference of superluminal speeds and spooky action at a distance. But it involves absolute determinism in the universe, the complete absence of free will...” She coils around me. I can’t see her, but the hairs on my arms stand on end. And softly, through the voice of the instructor, she says, “I-Me, I-Me... I-Me...” Oh, I feel it everywhere on me. Warm like the sun in my city. I’m half-there, half-here, and it’s torture to be neither place completely. I think the word ‘superluminal’, I try to regain the context of the lesson. Data streams begin discolouring, piling up in front of my eyes. The attendant’s face must be turned towards me now, but it is still so impossible to tell. She brushes against my ankle, my chair scrapes an inch forward. I am the only Joan interrupted. “I-Me...” she says. It’s a quiet breath in my ear. The instructor says, “Pupil, regain concentration,” and the equations clear. I fall hard onto the desk, gasping for breath. She is gone. I’m slick with sweat, I’m nothing more than a pulse and a feeling of nausea. The instructor repeats, “Pupil, regain concentration.” I hear the attendant making their way towards me. The other Joans haven’t noticed. This happens sometimes. The attendant has a face of half-concern. “Pupil,” the attendant says in a gentler tone, “regain concentration.” And then again, in chorus, they say, “Pupil, regain concentration.” But I cannot. I keep my head down and shake.

What an odd feeling! To be given extra attention, to be given additional care. Two attendants come to the room with a wheelchair. The Joans have slate grey eyes, staring into the middle distance with twitching fingers. They don’t pay much mind as I’m helped into the wheelchair and taken out of the classroom. They put a container in my lap and I place my head at the rim and let loose a stream of bile and oatmeal. I think they will put my back in my room, but instead I’m taken into a corridor I’ve never been before. There are no doors, only screens that play an oceanic scene. Schools of fish flit from one side of the hall to the other, and watching them I get the terribly dizzy feeling that they will swarm the three of us. That they are pirhana and will rend the meat from our bodies. “My head hurts,” I say to the attendants. Neither of them look at me. But this is exciting. I’ve never been sick before. I imagine a sick room like in the movies, with beds of Rodneys and Todds and Kaylas laid out all around me. Even if we aren’t permitted to speak to each other, it will be such an experience to meet a face that is not the face I wear myself. We pass through a set of glass doors, to a desk where an attendant is sitting ramrod straight. “809-C,” the attendant says, and they wheel me off through another chute of hallways, past blank-faced doors. It’s a labyrinth, and I cannot keep track of the white walls, of the many turns. We enter a small room, and the doors shut behind us. An elevator. I’ve never been in one before. They press a button. I don’t see what floor. Nothing is numbered. This all must be done through instinct. The elevator opens out onto a floor with many screens showing the illusionary mountains, a side of them I’ve never seen before. There is too much pink in the rock, I think. Too much pink to be real. We reach our destination, and it is the greatest dissapointment I have ever felt. It is smaller than my own quarters. There is a bed with thick black straps. They guide me onto it, fasten me to the mattress. One of the attendants says, “Relax, Joan Q, readjustment will take place in approximately 3 hours.” “What is readjustment?” I ask. The attendant says, “There is a malfunction in your implants, readjustment will take place in approximately three hours.” “Three hours?” “The doctor is busy, there is a malfunction in your implants, readjustment will take place in approximately three hours.” Their faces are serene as they fasten me to the bed. “This is a precaution, the doctor is busy. There is a malfunction in your implants, readjustment will take place in approximately three hours.” I don’t struggle against the restraints. I’ve never been restrained before. I’m not sure I would have considered moving from the bed if they hadn’t made moving impossible. The attendants receed from the room. The door slides soundlessly shut. The lights dim to half, and I feel pressure against all of my body. Tight spaces have never bothered me before, but I’ve read of claustrophobia. It’s like I can’t catch my lung’s worth. This room doesn’t smell right. I’ve never pictured this part of the center. I thought that this would be exciting, but it’s unsettling. What is readjustment? Will it hurt? I feel nauseous again, and they’ve left me no option but to be sick on myself. I hold it in, I shut my eyes and will myself to sleep away the discomfort.

And she comes into my dreams on her belly. “I-Me,” she gasps. I try to move on the bed, half-conscious. I can’t move, still tied down, still nauseous and sweating. “You will see. I-Me, you will see...” I feel her crawling onto the bed. I know what she looks like, I know the green plating of her skin. She curls around me, holding tighter than the straps that keep me fixed in place. But I can breathe with her here. I can pull myself away from this bed, I can walk the streets of my mind-metropolis. There is a malfunction in my implants, readjustment will take place in approximately three hours. The lush taste of the woods makes my mouth water. She hovers above me, I can taste her. “You will see,” she whispers. “I-Me...” “Don’t leave,” I say, but I can feel her lifting from me. She dissipates. I open my eyes to the room, and the straps are pulled taut over my body. There is a static all around, my hair floats all around me, a fan of black. Slowly, the buckles slide and let loose, fall back to the bed empty handed. The sick feeling is gone. The doors are opening. The doors are opening, and I choose to leave.

~*~ Where am I going? It doesn’t matter much. I’m just going. I feel snakes coiling and uncoiling in the lining of my chest. Through the first hall I expect someone to come for me, but no one does. Do they know I’ve left? Am I dreaming? I pinch the back of my hand and it hurts. I press against a door and it won’t budge. I knock quietly, then louder, and no one answers. Maybe they are sleeping. Maybe no one is there. The mountains tower to my left, a mirage. I find my way back to the elevator, but the doors don’t open for me. There is a gap between them just wide enough for my fingers to wriggle in. I tug once, twice. Nothing happens. Hmm. I look back down the hallway, it continues on for a long, long way. So long I can’t see the end. I’ve never imagined the size of the center like this. If this hall were a hole, if I were perched on the mouth of it, and I dropped a stylus into it, would I hear it hit the bottom? Would I? I continue on down the hallway, counting doors. They are numbered, and I descend from the 800s to the 700s, to the 400s and the 300s. I walk for so long my feet ache. We are in C. Is D above us? And E after that? How many rooms are occupied? The crawly feeling is all over me again, like when Joan W smashed the window screen. We Joans never spoke of it afterwards. Walking through the hall, I wonder if any of them remember. If any of them laid in the burning grasses. The 100s come and go, the hallway finally ends in yet another elevator. I wriggle my fingers into the doors and pull. They don’t give way, and my legs are tired from walking so much. I sit down in front of them, starring back down the endless hall. “I-Me, you will see,” I say to myself. I feel very, very small. There is a sound behind me, a soft hissing. I move out of the way right as the doors to the elevator open and a pair of attendants come through. They’re foam heads keep them from seeing me huddled in the corner. In between them is a girl in a wheelchair. Her head is down, but she has the same black hair I have. Maybe Joan C or Joan N? Or maybe it’s neither of them, maybe it’s a Cynthia G or a Lana O. I want to know, I want to see her face, but they continue on down the hall, and I launch myself into the elevator before the doors have a chance to close. There is a tower of buttons, unlabelled, and I don’t know what to press. I don’t want to end up on another endless floor, so I hit the very top one. The elevator does nothing at first, and the calming voice of the center says, “Authorization required.” This is where I’m caught, I suppose. Locked in the elevator, unable to give a password to the system. Someone somewhere will look through a camera, send a team of attendants, drag me back to 809-C for readjustment. “Authorization required,” the voice repeats, but the voice is just a little too fast. “Require-Authorization-require-require?” The elevator shifts uneasily. I can tell we’re going up, inch by inch. “Authoriz-authoriz-authorization.” And the voice dies out, the elevator gains momentum. The overhead lights flicker just a little bit, and I feel my hair rise from my shoulders, stand on end all over. There’s a pressure at my temples, I think of what I’ve read about tension migraines, how the brain feels loose inside the casing of the skull. The elevator goes up and up and up, it goes on for so long that I sit down again. The motion is no good for me. I feel shaky, my body breaks out in a sweat. I should have waited for readjustment, I feel terrible. I think of the god, of her serpentine body holding me down. The mouth of rock where she lives in the mind-metropolis. This is all for the good, isn’t it? I will see. Up and up and up and up - And then - The elevator stops. Everything is still, the sickness retreats from me, and the quickness of the change leaves me winded. The doors open, and outside everything is blackness. “You have reached your destination,” the center says when I don’t move. “Please exit the elevator.” I get to my feet, wander unsure out into the blackness. The floor is dark, the walls are dark. The ceiling is dark. Out in the night, like in my dreams, only there are no laterns to help me find the way. I get the sudden sensation that I am standing on a very tall precipice, and that if I look down I will surely fall. The doors to the elevator close, and when I look back I find it impossible to differentiate between the inky dark of the room and the place I have just walked through. “You will see,” says the god. I feel her in this darkness with me, but she is everywhere and no place. In my head, and taking up every inch, including the inches I am occupying. “Look and see, I-Me.” I walk forward, unsure. My hospital shoes make the softest hush. The room seems to be endless, but as I walk forward I can see that there is something in the distance, something I know is real. A window. A way out. I stop walking, my heart is beating too fast for me to move. “I want to go back,” I say. “No no no no no no no.” “I want to go back!” I shout. The god whips out her tail, slides it over the inch of skin between my socks and pants. “No no no no no.” She is calm. She knows I must only go forward. I know it too, we have come too far. We walk together, step by step, to the edge, and I close my eyes so I won’t see it, so I won’t know before I absolutely must. “I-Me, you are,” she says. “A choice, no choice.” I want to go back, I want to go back, I can’t go back. I can’t go back. My hands hit the artifically warmed glass of the window. My eyes fight with my brain to open, to see. I’m not ready. I’m ready. This is all I’ve been waiting for, this is what everything has meant to be. A choice, no choice. I must I must. “Open them,” says the god. I do. Far, far below, through the eternal night, the earth shines like a bright blue eye. It stares back up at me, its orbit clogged with currents of space trash. She is beautiful, she is sick. She is so far from me. And I feel upside down, I feel far apart and small small small. A noise comes from the basin of my chest, a sick and terrible noise of longing for something that was never mine. An identity, a home. A place of origin outside of the sterility of the center, flotsam high, high above the earth.

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