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staticscreenwriting · 4 years ago

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Love like the movies // Bucky Barnes

One - When Harry met Sally

Synopsis: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. Growing up, Bucky had not a doubt in his mind that his undeniable charm and his gorgeous smile would one day help him find the one. Now he realizes there’s so much more to romancing women, especially those from the 21st century. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is not a love story. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for EP1 of TFATWS)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

“ Now in the movies they make it look so perfect And in the background they're always playing the right song And in the ending there's always a resolution But real life is more than just two hours long “

Some Avett Brothers song sounds from the little radio that sits on the corner of the counter. Thick drops of rain pearl against the window, racing each other down the glass before meeting up eventually and becoming one with each other.

(Y/N) refills the last of the mustard bottles, setting it on the counter next to the others. It’s a quiet night at the diner. The kitchen’s been closed for an hour now and usually, that’s when people stop coming in. While the Little Blue Diner is known for their hot dogs and burgers, neither their coffee nor their cold sandwiches are gonna win any prizes any time soon.

And yet …

Sure enough, as her eyes lift towards the figure slouched down in the corner booth, his gloved hand is already outstretched, signaling his desire for yet another refill.

A mixture between a chuckle and a scoff tumbles from her lips at the thought of him wanting more of the slightly burned liquid. If there’s one thing (Y/N) can admit to being bad at, it’s brewing coffee. Where there should be a rich brown color, hers usually ends up with an inky black hue and instead of leaving a hint of warm caramelization on your tongue hers just tastes bitter. It doesn’t seem to face the man in the corner though. Not even a little bit. To say this worries her is a bit of an understatement. No one in their right mind would take 7 refills of her witch's brew.

“ You okay, my dude ? “ (Y/N) inquires as she steps up to his table, coffee pot in hand.

The man doesn’t look up at her. He doesn’t have to. She’s acutely aware of the character currently occupying the corner booth. It’s a face she knows like the back of her hand. One that’s been staring at her from books and documentaries, one she’s been greeted by every time her dad took her with him to the Smithsonian. Though they do not dare look up at her, she’s so awfully familiar with the bright blue shade of his eyes, he might as well be a long-time friend.

“ I’m fine. “

Of all the lies in the world, “I’m fine” must be the most unbelievable one and yet the one told most often. No one who’s actually fine ever says those words. Those two words are reserved for the lonely and broken only. It’s like getting “I’m not fine at all” tattooed across your goddamn forehead.

“ Sure you are, that’s why you’re having the 7th refill of my god awful coffee. “

“ ‘s not that bad. “

“ Sure, if you’re into licking charcoal it’s probably not that bad. “

It’s just a split of a second, a fraction of a moment, but (Y/N) is sure she can see the corner of his lips lifting slightly. It falls back into the stoic scowl immediately but it was there. For a teeny tiny moment, there was the shadow of a smirk on his face and that’s a success in her book.

“ Either way, here’s how we’re gonna do this. I’ll give you one last refill, after that, I’m cutting you off, my friend. I know I’m a waitress and it’s my job to bring you what you want but I do not fancy watching you suffer a caffeine-induced heart attack in this very diner. I am not equipped to handle a situation like that and quite honestly they don’t pay me enough to deal with that either. “

His eyes are still trained on the scratched-up white linoleum table but ever so faintly he nods his head in silent agreement.

As promised, she pours him one last cup of coffee. A brew so dark it could rival the bubbling goo of a tar pit.

“ Enjoy your last cup of the night, Mr. Barnes. “

It’s then, as she’s just about to walk back behind the counter, as those words leave her lips, that he looks up for the first time since he’s walked in.

His eyes are the exact shade of blue she’s so familiar with but there’s something else about them. An infinite sadness haunts every spec of blue. Where she thought there would be a sparkle of adventure, a hint of mischief, there is just loneliness. This is not the man she’s read about in museums, heard about in stories. This man right here is completely and utterly lost.

“ I - I uh — “

He clears his throat, once, twice, then nervously brushes his hand across his face.

“ I can go if you don’t want me here. “

“ Huh? “

“ I asked if you want me to leave. “

As those words escape him, his eyes seem to grow even more devastated. They glimmer with memories of a time long gone and a future uncertain. Shine with hurt and fear.

“ Why would I ask you to leave? “

Bucky shrugs his shoulders in a way to make it look nonchalantly. It’s hard to seem casual though when you seem to carry the weight of the entire world on your shoulders.

“ People who recognize me usually aren’t so keen on having me around. I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’m uh — I’m not people’s favorite person. “

It’s a sad thought, (Y/N) realizes, to be constantly bound to a past that is yours but never really belongs to you. To be forever linked with the horrible actions of a version of yourself you had no control over. And no matter how hard you try to set it all right and to repent for your wrongdoings, to some people it will never be enough.

“ No, you don’t have to leave, “ (Y/N) reassures before sliding into the booth opposite him. “ I don’t know you because of — because of what happened. I know you first and foremost as Sergeant Barnes, former officer of the 107th Infantry Regiment, part of the Howling Commandos, and best friend and brother to Steve Rogers. Everything else that’s — none of my business really. “

Bucky lifts his eyes off of the table again and while the sadness is still there, something else lingers for a moment. Curiosity, intrigue maybe, or just relief.

“ Wow. Didn’t think I’d run into someone reciting my life to me. Huh. “

“ My dad used to be a curator at the Smithsonian. He was in charge of the Captain America exhibition. I’ve seen your face a million times, visiting him at work. I gotta say though, you look way more approachable and friendly on the picture they put up. “

This time, it’s more than a fleeting moment, this time she’s sure about it, this time he lets out an actual chuckle.

“ I was a lot younger then, okay? Cut an old man some slack. “

“ Oh, you pulling the old man card now? “

“ Is it working? “ he asks, eyebrows raised in question.

“ Not really. “

“ Ah, what a shame.”

Silence settles upon them again like a thick duvet filled with feathers, it’s not uncomfortable but it’s smothering anyway.

“ Do you wanna talk about it? Your sour mood, I mean.”

Bucky shrugs again “I have a therapist.”

“ Does she make you draw your feelings? “

He smiles again at that question. His smile, (Y/N) thinks, ain’t the worst thing she’s ever seen. She wouldn’t mind seeing it more often.

“ No. Why? “

“ Mine did. She stopped pretty quickly though, I guess my drawings were too detailed and gory for her.”

“ Huh. “

“ Mmmh.”

After another sip of coffee, one he takes without grimacing, without showing any sign of disgust for the burnt brew, Bucky speaks up again.

“ Mine thinks I’m lying to her. “

“ Are you ?”

“ Well yeah, but she doesn’t need to know that.”

“ Maybe telling her the truth would help you. “ (Y/N) suggests only to be met with a determined head shake No from Bucky.

The notification sound of a phone pulls them from their conversation and at the sight of the name on the display, Bucky lets an “oh shit” slip from his lips.

“ Don’t you sound excited about getting texts from your friends, “ (Y/N) jokes

“ I had a date last night. That’s her. “

“ Since she’s texting you I assume it went well. “

Bucky grimaces at her words, slightly shaking his head in disagreement.

“ No? “

“ I mean, I had fun and it went well — at first. She’s really sweet. But then we started talking and I may have run. “

“ Ran where? “

“ Away. “

“ Away as in you left. “

“ Mm-mmh”

“ Just like that? “

“ Yup. “

“ Why? “

He throws up his arms in frustration and shakes his head again as if to gather all his thoughts and rattle them neatly back into place.

“ I don’t know, okay? I haven’t been on a date since the 1940s. Everything I know about women and dating and romance seems antiquated. I’m overwhelmed and confused and I just don’t wanna do anything wrong.”

“ Dude, you ran from your date without any explanation. How much worse could you have handled it? “

“ Yeah well, hindsight is 20/20. “

While his words try to sound light and nonchalant, his shoulders tense and his whole demeanor seems to shift back into the gloomy state he’s been in since he entered the diner. Like a big cloud that’s following him around, casting shadows at all times and hardly allowing any light to shine through.

“ Look, I don’t think any of us know what the heck we’re doing half the time. Like, trust me I know what I’m talking about. Online dating means I have to choose between men who think posing with a dead fish will make me want to sleep with them, men who think knowing obscure Star Wars facts can replace having an actual personality, and men who send me pictures of their … privates without me ever giving any indication of wanting to see those. So yeah — dating can really s - be frustrating. “

Bucky regards her for a second, the right corner of his lips pulled into a lazy lopsided smirk.

“ Did you just censor yourself because you don’t wanna swear around me ?”

“ Maybe, but that’s beside the point. The point is, we’re all just human and in the end, we’re all just looking for someone to like us the way we are, all quirks and issues and baggage included. I know women might seem intimidating but really all we want is to be loved and appreciated. And not the over-the-top build-you-a-house, the notebook kind of love. More like the Harry and Sally kind.“

(Y/N) can almost see the gears working inside Bucky’s brain, the desperate attempt to make any sense of all the words and phrases she’s just thrown at him. A jumbled mess of pop culture references swirls through his head like a swarm of bees, chaotic and messy.

“ I have no idea what you just said. “

“ When Harry met Sally? “

Bucky just shrugs and shakes his head.

“ You’ve never seen it? “

“ I’ve been a bit preoccupied with being blipped away into oblivion for the last 5 years. So I haven’t really had the time to get into movies yet. “

This time it’s the gears in her own head that start turning.

“ What are you doing Friday night ? “ she asks, biting her lip in nervous anticipation.

“ I — I don’t know. “

That’s a bit of a lie, really. He does know. It’s the same thing he does pretty much every other day. He gets some takeout, brings it home, sits down in front of the tv, tries to get lost in whatever show they put on, fails at doing so, reads a few pages of a book, lays down to sleep, and then wakes up a little while later to yet another nightmare, tangled up in sweaty sheets, heart racing.

(Y/N) doesn’t need to know any of that though. He doesn’t tell his therapist so why would he tell a random stranger.

“ Well, don’t make any plans. We’re gonna kill 2 birds with 1 stone. “

“ We are? “

“ Yeah. Trust me on this one. “

“ I don’t even know you. “

“ Sure you do. “ (Y/N) says and taps the tag pinned to her baby blue polo shirt with the diner’s logo on the back. “ I’m the one who serves you just enough coffee to keep you happy but not have you die a painful and honestly mildly embarrassing death. “

Every part of him screams at him to say no. To stay away from her the way he does from most other people, even Sam. To get up and get out and not cause any more damage than he already has in other people’s life. But then he remembers his therapist's words, he remembers Leah’s face full of confusion and disappointment, he remembers the empty feeling in his chest. That feeling of pure and utter loneliness.

“ Alright, Friday works for me, (Y/N). “

“ Perfect, Bucky. “

“ Bring a jacket. “

The address and “Bring a jacket” that’s all she’s texted him. No explanation, no plan, nothing.

Bucks leans against the streetlamp, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. Anxiety is washing through his system like tidal waves on a stormy ocean. This whole being spontaneous thing was much easier back in the 40s. When his shoulders weren’t so heavy with guilt. When he didn’t have to constantly face the consequences of his actions. Consequences of a past he can never quite outrun no matter how far he goes and how hard he tries.

Maybe this is good, he has to remind himself. Getting out of his comfort zone, if that even exists for him. Opening himself up to new opportunities. Maybe even make a friend. (Y/N) seem nice enough, if a bit peculiar.

His shrink would be proud of him. Getting out there, talking to people, being approachable. This must for sure earn him some kind of gold star equivalent in her notebook.

“ Hey there, Mr. Grumpyface. “

(Y/N)'s voice cuts through the chilly New York night like headlights through thick fog. She strolls towards him, lips pulled into a big bright smile. Leading up to tonight he’s spent quite a lot of time wondering if this is some kind of project for her, if maybe she sees him as a sort of charity case. Something to earn her karma points. It wouldn’t be the first time. But the genuine joy radiating from her face lets those worries melt away instantly.

Maybe, Bucky thinks, she really just thinks he’ll make a good friend. And maybe he can.

“ Hi, (Y/N). “

“ You brought a jacket” she points out, pinching the black leather between her fingers. Her nails are painted in various shades of red, each finger a different hue.

“ I did. You told me to. “

“ And you listened! “

“ Why wouldn’t I ? “ Bucky inquires, a look of confusion settling on his face.

“ You wouldn’t believe how many men think wearing a jacket when it’s cold out somehow clashes with their need to demonstrate their masculinity. “

“ Wow. “ he exclaims.

“ Yeah. So anyway, you ready to go up? “

She nods her head towards the house across the street. It’s a slim multiple-story brick building with rusty fire escapes. It looks like a residential lot, not much else that could give away (Y/N)’s plan for the rest of the night.

“ Up? “

“ Mm-mh. “ (Y/N) nods and motions towards the top of the building. “ to the roof. “

“ The roof? You’re not planning to push me off or anything, right? I don’t usually spend time with strangers on rooftops. “ he tells her, a smirk lifting the sides of his lips.

She grants him a smile in return. One of those that you try so hard to suppress but despite your best efforts they find their way onto your face anyway. Because some smiles demand to be smiled. And her smile is pretty cute, he thinks, it deserves to be seen.

“ Foiled again, damn Bucky. I’m a waitress with a useless degree in literature and creative writing but assassinating you was exactly what I had planned for tonight. Couldn’t let me have that one, huh? “

“ Sorry to spoil all the fun. “

She softly bumps her shoulder against his right side as she passes him and crosses the street. Her red skirt flutters around her knees like a ribbon of fire, bright and warm and —

“ You coming, grumpy ?”

“ Yeah uh — yeah sure. “

The walk upstairs is filled with chatter from her and nodding from Bucky. It’s been like this most of the time since — well since he’s really back. Other people usually do the talking and Bucky listens. It works most of the time. Works with Yori. Sometimes though, sometimes it doesn’t. He can see people getting frustrated with him. Hell his own therapist does and she knows the baggage he has to carry around.

This is different though, (Y/N) doesn’t seem to mind much. She’s a waterfall of words and topics and doesn’t seem to get bored or annoyed with him. It’s nice.

A heavy iron door swings open as they reach the top of the building and as soon as they step out onto the rooftop balcony they get engulfed in an ocean of lights. They’re strung from one end of the roof to the other and back again. Next to the door, a little makeshift bar is set up, and a guy in a Star Wars shirt hands out beers to people.

Multicolored deck chairs and beanbags are haphazardly placed across the entire roof, all pointing towards the corner furthest away from the door where a big white sheet hangs spanned between two poles.

“ Sooo you gonna tell me what we’re doing here? “ Bucky asks again as (Y/N) steers him towards a cluster of chairs in the back.

“ Some peeps I went to university with, set up movie screenings here every once in a while. I could pull some strings and got to choose the movie. “

“ We’re gonna watch a movie? “

“ Not just any movie, “ she exclaims and drops down onto one of the plastic deck chairs that looks like it used to be bright pink once but is now but a bleached blush colour from being exposed to the sun too much. “ We’re watching when Harry met Sally. “

Bucky slumps down on the chair next to her, a blue one with white daisy patterns.

“ Me not knowing this movie really does bother you, huh? “

“ It’s a classic, might as well start with this one. And anyway, maybe this can help you get back into the dating game. Ya know, help you understand modern romance. “

“ You think so? “

She shrugs and starts fumbling around in her bag, “ I dunno. It might. And if it doesn’t at least you’ll spend your time watching a good movie and get to experience the blessing of my company. Ah-ha! There you go “

Her hand reaches out holding a bag of M&Ms.

“ I brought snacks. “

More and more people start occupying the chairs and bean bags and a few minutes later a guy steps up in front of the sheet. He’s wearing a shirt with a black and white bird pattern, huge glasses with a brown frame, and jeans that don’t cover his ankles. He’s tall and lanky and his hair is so messy, Bucky wonders if it’s intentional or if he just hasn’t brushed it in a while.

“ Hi guys, I’m Andrew. For those of you who don’t know me, I live in apartment 2B and I just wanna say thank you for showing up and welcome you to our movie night under the stars. A few days ago we received a special request from one of our good friends and because she let me stay on her couch for several months back during our college days and I still owe her for that I couldn’t reject her request. So thanks to Miss (Y/N) over there in the pink chair you now get to spend the next 90 minutes watching Meg Ryan fall in love with Mike Wazowski. Enjoy. “

As he steps away from the sheet, the lights are turned off and the MGM logo pops up on the screen.

“ Trust me, Bucky. This one’s so good.” (Y/N) assures before throwing some M&Ms into her mouth, now entirely focused on the movie.

It takes a while for Bucky to relax. Being around so many people and not having any fear of what’s lurking around the corner is still very new. Letting go is never as easy as it sounds. Eventually though, his nerves settle down a little and as the movie progresses, he finds himself relaxing more and more. Something he hasn’t done in a long time. Not since Wakanda.

Exactly 46 minutes into the movie, (Y/N) lets her eyes wander to her left where Bucky, until now, sat slumped into his seat. Still perpetually grumpy but more chilled out and relaxed than she’s seen him before. Until now. A moaning Meg Ryan visible making him uncomfortable.

“ You okay, grumpy? “

He doesn’t grant her a real answer, just scoffs and rolls his eyes. There’s a smile though, she’s sure. Somewhere hidden there is another smile.

“ So, what did we learn today? “

Bucky looks at (Y/N) who has her arms wrapped tightly around her middle shielding herself from the chilly night air. The movie night has ended a while ago and the two of them are slowly strolling along the New York City streets on the way back to (Y/N)’s apartment.

“ To take your own advice and dress warmer for a movie night? “

(Y/N) chuckles. “ No, grumpy. I meant the movie. “

He shrugs at her question. Quite honestly he hasn’t learned anything new. Nothing about the movie seemed in any way revolutionary to him nor does he see any benefit for himself and his dating life going forward. But the way she looks at him right now, expecting something grand not from him really but some beautiful consequences to her ideas, that makes him reconsider. Sure he could tell her that it was just a silly little movie about people falling in love but that would no doubt hurt her, even a tiny little bit. And if there’s anything Bucky has enough of, it’s hurting others.

“ I guess that men and women really can not be friends. “

“ Noooo! No. Is that really what you took from this movie? “

“ That’s literally what happened. “

“ Okay first of all it works, look at us! We’re friends! Second of all, that’s not what the movie is really about. It’s about love and vulnerability. It’s about overcoming all the tiny things that can work against you and your relationship. Like distance and timing and egotism. It’s about hiding who you are because really opening up to someone, being your authentic true self with all your faults and imperfections, that makes you vulnerable. And being vulnerable is fucking scary. But love is worth it anyway. That’s what the movie is about. “

As Bucky noticed before, some smiles demand to be smiled. They need to be smiled because they’re important and they mean something. The one gracing his face now, that’s one of those. One of those you remember because you feel them all the way in your heart.

“ You think we’re friends? “

“ Oh, are we — are we not? “

“ No. I — no, we are! I’d like to be friends. “

(Y/N) abruptly stops in her tracks, turns towards him, and holds out her hand. “ To friendship.”

“ We’re shaking hands on it? What is this, a business deal? “

“ You know what, yeah now that you mention it that’s pretty lame. “ (Y/N) agrees, balling her hand into a fist “ how about a fist bump, bro? “

Bucky reluctantly knocks his right hand against hers before continuing his walk down the street. “You call me bro again I’m canceling the friendship. “

“ Alright. Noted. “

“ So have you talked to the girl again? “

“ Hmm? “

“ The one you went on a date with? “

“ Oh, Leah. Uh — no.”

“ Why not? “

Bucky throws her a look. One that says “are you kidding me?”. One that says “ you know why.”

“ Cause I ran out. That’s embarrassing. She’s gonna think I’m insane. She’s never gonna wanna see me again. “

“ I sincerely doubt that. You just gotta say sorry. I know in Love Story — that’s a novel and also a movie from the 70s — they say that ‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry but that’s a load of bull. Just say sorry and ask her for a do-over. “

“ And then what? We play a rematch of battleships and talk about my trauma? “

“ Well, what did you do on dates in the 40s? “

That time, his youth, that seems like a different life altogether now. So much happened between then and now and the man he is now, has no relation to the boy he was then. Sometimes looking back hurts, makes it painfully obvious what he’s lost. But sometimes, like tonight, he can feel a hint of fondness coursing through him at the thought of times long gone.

“ Dancing, mostly.”

“ Like, ballroom dancing? “

“ Swing. “

“ You swing dance? “

“ I did. “

(Y/N) regards him through squinted eyes “ really? “

“ You don’t believe me? “

“ I don’t know. You don’t strike me as a dancer. “

Not a second later, Bucky’s gloved hand grabs onto her’s and twirls her towards him then away from him and back in.

“ You twirled me! “

“ Mm-mh.”

“ I’ve never been twirled. That’s so fun. “

It’s like autopilot taking over as Bucky holds onto her, twirling her again then pulling her in and swaying them in a circle. It’s not swing dancing, not even close but there’s no music either, and anyway, his dancing days are over. But sometimes you gotta make a point and if that means slow dancing in the middle of an empty street then that’s that.

The night wraps them in a blanket of comfort and intimacy as the stars and the New York skyline try to outshine each other. It’s a moment so peaceful, Bucky can’t remember the last time his heart felt so light, his mind felt so at ease, his entire being got to let go and just be alive and in the moment.

And then the shine of headlights rips them from their moment and makes them jump back onto the sidewalk.

“ Get off the road you fucking morons! “

“ Gotta love the big city folk. “

“ Yup. “

“ Hey, Bucky.”

“ What? “

“ You really can dance.”

“ Told you. “

“ Can I tell you a secret? “

“ Sure. “

“ I can’t dance for shit. “

“ That so? “

“ Yup. Which means you gotta teach me. “

“ Absolutely not.”

“ Oh, 100%! “

“ We’ll see about that.”

There are nights you try to forget. Nights that you wish to never ever remember. Ones that break you. That beat you down and leave you bruised and battered.

Then there are nights like this one that you want to hold onto for just a little bit longer. Those that fill you with joy and an immeasurable thirst for life. The ones that make you feel grateful to be alive right here and now.

The inevitable end of the night creeps closer as they arrive at (Y/N)’s front door. Neither of them really want to say goodnight but both know there’s no use in delaying it.

“ I hope you didn’t hate the movie too much, “ (Y/N) speaks up, leaning against the front door of her apartment complex.

“ No. It was fun! Although I still don’t know who Mike Wazulsky is. “

“ Mike Wazowski, he’s — you know what? That’s a conversation for another time. “

“ Alright, if you say so. “

“ Thanks for walking me home. “

“ Oh, yeah no need to thank me. It’s the right thing to do. “

For a moment they just stand and smile, trying to cherish the last few moments of this night.

“ We should do this more often. “ Bucky suggests, surprising even himself.

“ For sure. I still have so many movies to show you. “

“ Can’t wait. “

A slight sense of awkwardness falls over them as neither of them knows what to do. Go for a hug? Shakes hands? Wave goodbye?

“ I uh — I should go. “

“ Yeah, of course. Have a good night, Bucky.”

“ You too, (Y/N).”

“ Oh and Bucky? “

“ Yes? “

“ Give Leah a call. “

Bucky nods his head before turning around and walking back into the night.

As he takes the way back to his own home, there are only two things on Bucky’s mind: the vulnerability of falling in love and the question of who the hell Mike Wazowski was.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #mcu imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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toastwithjelly · 4 years ago

Text

FEEL SOMETHING

(A Sanders sides Angst one-shot fic)

Part 1

4,391 words

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING⚠️

Razor blades

Self harm

Gore

Numbness

Logan angst

Confrontation on self harm suspicions

Summary:

Logan is tired of being the cold, emotionless robot that everyone perceives him as. He’s repressed his emotions to such a great extent that he genuinely doesn’t feel anything major anymore. He does have his nightly break-downs sometimes, but he needs more than that.

However, this is where roads begin to cross. Logan feels that it would be nice and beneficial to experience strong emotions, but he doesn’t know if this feeling is stronger than his fear of expressing such things. Being viewed as a joke and not being taken seriously is his worst nightmare. Because of this, the logical side just keeps up his stone cold front to avoid being weak.

This dilemma Logan had found himself in really frustrated him. No matter how hard he tried to think of a solution, nothing ever satisfied both ends of the spectrum. The best he had come up with was to keep up the front when he was with the others and then let himself break down at night when no one was around, and even that didn’t help him nearly as much as he wished. This eventually led him to looking for answers online. One search led to another, and Logan has figured out something that might help him. It’s a bit risky, and he’ll have to hide it from the others, but he knows how to be safe with it, so he’ll give it a shot just to feel something.

•———————————————————————-•

Part 1

6:34pm

Logan was sitting at the dinner table with his three friends as they ate their meal. Nothing unusual about the evening, they had their casual little chats and the occasional playful banter from Roman and Virgil, with Patton butting in every so often. Logan kept his focus all on the plate of food in front of him. The paternal figure had worked hard to make this, he wasn’t going to let it get cold. Plus even if he wanted to join the conversation, he wouldn’t even know what to say. Sure he was the logical side and he had a heap of facts to spit but when it comes to the jovial friendly conversations the others usually shared. He truly couldn’t find the words to contribute something meaningful into the atmosphere, so other than correcting a false statement, he kept silent.

“Now Virgil, I’m just saying that a kid would be much more excited to watch a movie like Alice in wonderland and we all know it!” Roman exclaimed to the emo sitting across the table from him. It’s not at all surprising that the current conversation taking place was one about Disney. Especially when it was Virgil and Roman who were the ones bickering. “I mean all the bright colors and such a classic story is bound to win a kid over!”

“Uhuh sure, like kids would want to watch a film about a bunch of mentally ill people on an acid trip. Plus, the queen of hearts is scary for them,” Virgil retorts, glaring at Roman before taking a bite of his food. “The princess and the frog is clearly a superior movie. It’s about an independent hard working woman who doesn’t need a man to help her achieve her goals, like are you kidding me? And she helps him out, that is a nice change for once.”

“Yea I cannot argue with that, we stan Tiana,” Roman admits, leaning back in his chair. Logan was about to question the prince about the term he just used, but decided against it, keeping quiet.

“But the shadow man is scary!” Roman continues.

“Uh, no. ’I’ve got friends on the other side’ is such a bop. But I am one of the friends on the other side,” Virgil pulls his signature 2000’s MySpace emo face. ‘Bop’. Logan remembers what that meant. He had to ask Roman about it later to make a vocabulary card.

“Oh my god can you get any edgier?” Roman asks the snickering Virgil across the table as he rolls his eyes and goes back to his food. The only thing Logan could think of at this time is how useless that conversation was. Their frivolous arguments had no solid points or evidence to back up their argument if they were trying to persuade the other. He chose not to say anything so as to not further encourage them. Instead he had just yet again kept quiet and his focus was on finishing his food so he could retire to his room.

“So Logan, are you almost finished with your work?” Logan’s head snapped up when the mention of his name came from Patton. ‘Work.. it was always work.’

“No, Patton. There are still a few tasks to be completed that need to be completed tonight,” Logan states, adding on that last bit so hopefully he isn’t bugged with having a ‘family night’ as Patton and the others like to call it. Which, it doesn’t make any sense considering the fact that none of us are actually related.

“Well, once you are done with that, do you wanna come watch a movie with us!?” The parental side excitedly asks. Logan internally cringed at Patton’s use of grammar, but more at his failed attempts at getting out of this without having to ask. It’s not that Logan didn’t like the others, it’s just that tonight specifically he wanted to be left alone. Sometimes spending time with them is considered a good thing to him because he knows that he needs to take breaks from his work sometimes and Patton gives him an excuse to do so. Also, knowing that Patton wants him there helps him feel less like a robot, but that feeling quickly returns when they don’t even care to ask him his opinions for the movie choice.

“Oh.. that’s ok! There’s always next time, right?” Patton sounded a little disappointed, but supportive nonetheless. “Well I wish you good luck with that, Logan!”

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan finishes the conversation while turning his attention back towards his almost empty plate.

The rest of the dinner went by as normal. They all took their dishes to the sink and Patton offered to help Roman complete the dishes and Virgil retired to his room for the night. Logan says his goodnights and follows suit to his own room.

After entering, Logan lightly shut his door and pressed his back against the cool wood. The lights were still off, so he sat in the inky black dark atmosphere staring at the ceiling in order to prevent the dark curtain draped over the contents of his room from playing tricks on his eyes. He didn’t bother finding the light switch; he felt it was unnecessary. It would only illuminate everything that reminded him of everything that burdens him. He hates not knowing.

The logical side leaned his head back against the door and squeezed his eyes shut, the blankness of the dark and the silence began to be too much for him; it made him feel too alone. With no senses available, you are left with nothing but your own thoughts to drown in. Nothing to do but to fall down that hole of endless thinking. Logan’s head swarmed with every emotion he was feeling at once. Every fact he wished wasn’t true danced behind his eyes and pounded on his skull demanding his attention.

Logan couldn’t help but let the tears run down his cheeks. They started rolling faster and he held his hand over his mouth, choking back a sob. He hated doing this, but he had to if he wanted to remain sane. He just felt so vulnerable and embarrassed. Logan felt his legs begin to shake so he slid down the door to sit on the floor. God he hopes no one comes to his room.

The logical side stayed on the floor like that for a while. He didn’t know how long, but he was surprised when he looked at his phone to find he had been there for almost thirty minutes. Once the crying had for the most part stopped and Logan realized that it didn’t really help at all, he decided to get up from his spot on the floor and turn on some lights. He had reached for the plug connected to fairy lights strung around his room and plugged it into the electrical socket, illuminating the whole space with a soft Caramel colored glow. The lights were a gift from Patton last Christmas, the parental figure had gotten some for everyone in the house. At first the logical side thought they were childish and impractical due to him already having a light in his room, but Patton persisted so he put them up and once he saw how they casted a honey coating to all the contents of his bedroom and how the atmosphere instantly shifted from sharp to calming and gentle, he decided that they weren’t that bad.

After his eyes had adjusted to the light, Logan walked into the bathroom that he has in his room and shut the door after turning on the light. The sudden contrast of the soft light of his room to the harsh light of the bathroom only worsened his growing headache so the first thing he did was retrieve the Ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet and swallow two. After that he took his glasses off and placed them on the side of the sink before proceeding to wash his face of tears with warm water from the faucet. After he patted his face dry with a towel, he took a minute to just look into the mirror. He took notice of his cold, dead eyes that were a navy blue, but despite being such a bright color, his eyes looked more dull and grey. ‘No wonder the others think I’m a metaphorical robot.” He thinks to himself. He decides not to stay there any longer or else Remus might hear him drowning in his thoughts and show up so he grabbed his glasses and started back towards his room.

Logan didn’t know what to do now. He’s already cried a bunch but that didn’t help. He just sat on the edge of his bed trying to figure things out. The laptop sitting closed and still in his desk caught his eye. ‘There may be an article on the internet explaining my situation.’ The logical side thought to himself before he got up and made his way towards his desk, pulling out the chair and sitting down. While he opened the device up and typed in his password, he thought about what he was going to type into the search bar. While the Google page displayed on his screen awaiting his questions, Logan’s fingers moved to type in the first one that came to mind; ‘How to feel when you are numb?’

Once he pressed enter, he proceeded to scroll for what he was looking for. He passed a bunch of articles about physical health and stuff like that. ‘Perhaps I worded it incorrectly?’ He thought to himself before seeing something that could potentially be what he was looking for. It was a link to a twitter post. It was titled ‘I don’t feel anything. I do this to feel something,’ and Logan thought that would suffice nicely to his needs. Though, the side wasn’t prepared for what he was going to see when he clicked it. Blood. Lots of blood. Cuts all up and down the poster’s forearm that could be recognized as dermis and epidermis level cuts. And finally, a bloodied double edge razor blade sitting calmly in a warm crimson pool on the counter top.

Logan gasped upon the image displayed in front of him. It wasn’t too intense but seeing a part of the human body all cut up didn’t make him feel too comfortable, but he was slightly intrigued. He was kind of confused why the gorey photo was related to what he was looking for so he decided to look into it further; only because the text part of the post seemed to relate a little to his state of mind.

The logical side scrolled down past a few more photos of the same cuts just at different angles. He kept observing the images while trying to think of where to go from here until he decided to use the tags the original poster had provided with the text to research further. He viewed 10 or so hashtags of random things to figure out what the point of this was. Some of them just confused the side, but one of the words he recognized from an article he read a few months ago when Roman fell into a deep depression and he tried to gather as much information as he could to help him because the others were worried and terrified for him. However, he never had to use much information because they had luckily gotten him out of that mental health decline before anything terrible happened. Well, at least to his knowledge. The tag in question reads as ‘self harm’. Now Logan felt a little stupid because he knew what this was before, but a little clarification never hurt anyone.

He had to admit, he was a little taken aback by the fact that what he was experiencing was linked and related to self harm but he decided to explore more under that subject to further understand it. When he clicked on the tag, he was exposed to pages and pages of self harm. He stopped at one particularly disturbing one. It was a video of a girl with a straight razor that resembled that of what a barber would use. In the video, she had pressed as hard as she could and with one clean swipe, the fat inside her arm was exposed. By this point, Logan was feeling a little sick to his stomach on account of what was displayed in front of him. The video however kept going. The girl dabbed the open wound with a white towel, so the amount of blood that was being soaked up was very visible. The girl picked the weapon up again and placed it in the center of the cut and proceeded to apply pressure while she dragged the blade along her arm at a painfully slow speed. When the pool of blood was soaked up, fascia was exposed and Logan really wanted to look away but he couldn’t. He vaguely understood the premise behind self harming, but witnessing it to this extent kind of confused and scared him.

Luckily the video stopped there and Logan closed it out and continued to scroll through the page. He did not find much there other than the pictures and videos of people cutting themselves and he was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable, almost like what he felt when he was under the effects of Virgil’s room; and for that reason he decided to close out this tab and search elsewhere. The logical side really didn’t know why he was so intrigued to this certain coping mechanism. He knew it was very unhealthy, but he couldn’t let it go.

After a few google searches about the topic of self harm and a few articles later, Logan found one specific body of text that piqued his interest. It was basically describing the effects self harming has on the brain and why so many people do it and says it helps. He read through it and the information he gathered was rather interesting to him. Basically, the context of the article was explaining the science behind why self harming was addictive and why some people do it in the first place.

‘So, cutting myself will release neurochemicals in my brain that mimics that of dopamine? Fascinating..’ Logan thinks to himself. The side takes a minute to think it through. Was he actually considering this? I mean, there is scientific evidence that proves that doing this will help him. Logan ponders a bit on that last point, basically pushing him to do it. He just resorts to searching for reasons not to go through with it at this point. Only two reasons came to his mind when he tried to think up reasons to push the thoughts out of his head. The first was the safety aspect of it. Of course when you are cutting yourself there are things that can go wrong; however Logan felt confident enough that he knew how to do this safely. He knew where the vital points were on the human body so he knew where it was safe to cut as well as how deep to go. He also knew how to properly dress the wounds and how to take care of them so they didn’t get infected so the logical side could figuratively throw that worry out the window.

The only factor that was left in play affecting Logan’s decision in going through with this is the guilt he would have to face if the others found out. With Patton having gone through a situation similar to this when Roman was having severe mental health issues and when Virgil ducked out, Logan would figuratively (and almost literally) have the blood on his hands just adding it to the list. He knows that Patton always tries his hardest to do things that make everyone as happy as they can be, and oh the lengths he would go to do that. Let’s just say that the parental side has had many sleepless nights on account of helping someone else. But surely if Patton had ever found out about all the things Logan hasn’t told him, it would make him feel like he hasn’t been enough for people even more than he already does, even and who knows what could happen to him when that happens and he lives knowing that three of his friends have been struggling.

Logan had to ponder on this one for a minute. But with him being logic and all, he brought up the point that the way Patton was thinking about things is untrue and if he had to, Logan with a little of Virgil’s help could sit down with him and possibly explain things in order to pull him from that mindset.

He quietly hummed to himself, feeling accomplished at finding a solution. This satisfied feeling quickly deteriorated as confusion began to spill. Why was he feeling this way about something so grim? Why was he so compelled to stand up to get that spare razor that lay waiting in the bathroom cupboard? He thought it was even irrational to consider doing such things but it just felt like something that could actually help him, and he needed it.

He didn’t know what made him do it, but something in him made him push himself out of his desk chair to shut his laptop without powering it off and making his way to the bathroom. Once inside, he quietly closed the bathroom door. He opened the door of the shadow box, but for some reason it felt super slow like in a dramatic movie. He didn’t know why his hands were shaky when he spotted the razor and went to gently pick it up.

Just then as he examined the weapon in his grip, he felt the adrenaline pumping. It all just set in. Oh my god he was actually going to do this. He was just moments away from his destination. He gulped down a nervous lump in his throat as he examined the perfectly new blade for any rust. The side didn’t understand why he was so nervous; he knew how to do this safely so why was he so scared? Maybe he’s afraid of the pain

Logan however quickly dismissed this thought so that it doesn’t chase him out of a decision. I mean he would only seem MORE weak if he pulled such a pansy move. It shouldn’t be too bad.

He started by washing the blade and his forearm with warm water just as a precaution. He shakily held the blade horizontally over his wrist. Deep breath in and-

Slice

He ran the blade across his skin and then exhaled the breath he was holding. He sort of relaxed when he realized that it wasn’t that bad and that he was ok. Still, he checked the damage. It was a cut on the epidermis layer of the skin so nothing bad. Even so, he watches the blood bead along the clean line in fascination. It started to drip a little but that was caught with the towel that Logan pulled off the towel rack. He gently pressed the cloth to the cut and when he pulled it back, he closely watched as blood refilled the small wound. He was satisfied with his work and for some reason, he couldn’t stop looking at it. He wanted more.

So that’s what he did; the side made a few more clean lines parallel to the first one he made. He would stop to just watch the blood, then soak it up before watching how it refills again. Logan found himself admiring his arm from all angles, wearing these cuts like some sort of sick and twisted accessory. Logan continued to leave a few more little cuts, holding his arm over the sink to not make so much mess with blood (and to not ruin his favorite button up shirt).

The logical side went for one more and pressed a bit harder this time. When he swiped the blade, white was exposed before blood started to seep out from the edges of this deeper and wider cut. Actually being able to see the inside of his arm like that kind of scared him. He recognized this as the dermis level of skin. It made him a bit uneasy how he could turn his arm sideways and see the cut gape a bit, but he couldn’t stop looking at it. He thought if Remus was here, he would have said it looked like a mouth.

After that tiny scare of going deeper, he decided he was done with this for the night, afraid of going farther than he already has. As he started cleaning the blood from his arm and his sink, he was thinking over his success rates with this exercise. He had come to the conclusion that this had done what he wanted it to for him. He smiled to himself as he looked at the fresh cuts. The smaller and thin ones have already dried and scabbed over, but the deeper one he had just done was still filling with blood after each time he soaked it up, but it was slowing down. He doesn't know if he smiled because the treatment worked or if he was just proud of what he had done, but to him it just matters that he got a smile out of it. Once all the blood was cleaned up, he opened the shadow box again to retrieve the bandages. Carefully, he wrapped his arm in a secure bandage and put the rest away. The pressure of the cloth being wrapped tightly around his arm felt oddly nice and contrasted with the burning sensation on his skin from the contact.

The side stops moving and stands perfectly still when he feels a presence in his room. His heart dropped out of fear in realizing that this is the worst time to be here for obvious reasons. He slowly reaches for the doorknob of the bathroom and turns it, trying to prepare himself for whatever is about to happen. When the door was opened, it revealed Remus sitting on Logan’s bed just looking around.

“R-Remus, what are you doing here?” His voice was shakier than he wanted it to be. He wasn’t sure if the cause was from what he just did in the bathroom or the fear he had from another side possibly knowing.

Remus’s gaze shifted towards the nerd and the bandage on his arm. “Well, as I am Thomas’s own intrusive thot,” he stopped for a second to giggle at his play on words, “I can sense unwanted thoughts from any other part of Thomas,” he got up from his spot on Logan’s bed to walk towards him.

“I was picking up something from you, not like the normal. I had some suspicions and came to investigate but it seems as if I was right,”

“I.. I’m not sure I know what you are referring to,” he lied. Logan thought it was eerie to hear Remus talk in this more serious manner.

“Yea, no we both know that is a big lie,” Remus slightly smirked at Logan for the fact that he was right and gestured to Logan’s bandaged arm. Logan just avoided the other side’s eyes and held his arm behind his back. This and Logan’s uncomfortable silence confirmed it to Remus and he was no longer smiling, he had a look of empathy and slight hurt on his face. He was also sort of mad at the others because he feels and sees what Logan goes through with them and he thinks he can understand why Logan would resort to self harm.

“Logan, do you need to talk about it?” He asked. Logan has talked to Remus about his situation before, but he didn’t want to talk about this. He just brushed past Remus to go lay his pajamas out on the bed to get changed for the night. “No, I do not wish to speak of this and I ask you to kindly not mention this to anyone else, but thank you for your concern,” he never turned around to look at the other once. Remus just stood there with a slight frown. He then got an idea on what to do and he sunk out without saying anything else.

Logan could feel when the intrusive side left the room and released the breath he was holding in relief. He felt guilt wash over him in the moment. He really disliked lying to one of his closest friends but it was for the best. It was way too early for him to be able to tell anybody- scratch that. He didn’t want to tell anyone at all. He just hoped that Remus would listen and not tell anybody. The logical side thought of what he would do if that were to happen as he changed his clothes to something more comfortable.

He stopped before getting into bed to ponder if he should leave his fairy lights on while he slept. They were left on as he climbed under the cover to keep the atmosphere soft.

The logical side found himself holding his bandaged arm up above his face to admire it. He didn’t know what it was, but knowing what he'd done gave him tiny butterflies of adrenaline in his stomach which led him to a small smile. Logan was never an artist of any medium, but those crimson lines that stain his forearm felt like an art piece to him. It made him feel accomplished and.. happy. And with that, the side brought his arm back under the covers and closed his eyes to be consumed by sleep with a smile on his face.

•———————————————————————-•

Hope you enjoyed this first part :)

Yea a little background, sanders sides is such a comfort series for me, so I started writing this back when I was struggling a lot and I decided to keep writing this now so I hope you enjoy this bucket of angst haha

Part 2 will be linked here when it is up!

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides #one shot #logan sanders #Logan angst #sanders sides angst #self harm #ahhh my poor baby #vent #Roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #Janus sanders

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lovethisletters · 4 years ago

Text

I miss you

Idk how to even start this except for: I'm so SO SO sorry @melyaliz thank u for being so patient with me 😖💕✨ this year has been hard for all of us, online school is much more difficult than I initially expected but I would keep trying my best! Hopefully you will grant me the possibility of keep writing this amazing characters of yours even though your experience with me as a writer hasn't been the greatest :c , then again thank you for your patience, happy holidays! And happy new year! Hopefully this will be a better year for all of us. 💕✨

Faith is @melyaliz OC!

It started a few weeks ago, his obsession. Tim had been trying to get information regarding Black Mask's newest plan.

—I trust you, Tim— were Bruce's last words before leaving to attend urgent matters with the Justice League, this time in space.

And since then, he worked more diligently than ever before: going undercover and placing microphones and trackers at locations in the false-face society, interrogating thugs, hours glued to his computer trying to figure something out.

While this behavior was not unusual for Tim, Faith began to worry ... call it a hunch, perhaps a gut feeling but something told her this would not end well; however, she tried to bury it and pretend that it was simply her usual concern for Tim's habits and that once it was all over, things would calm down.

But the end was only the true beginning of things.

That night Tim was in the Batcave as usual, and the rest of the family were preparing to patrol, when they suddenly heard a scream of anger and frustration.

—No! No! No! Fuck you!—

Silence invaded the mansion and was only interrupted by the sound of Batmobile's tires screeching and running at full speed.

—What's the deal with him? —Damian (already in his Robin suit) asked while trying to look through out the window, but the vehicle was already long gone.

Faith wasted no time and sprinted towards the Batcave.

And there it was, on the screen of the Batcomputer a giant, green, question mark. Riddler.

In the morning the news reported Riddler's arrest at the hands of Red Robin but it wasn't until 4 days later that Tim returned to the mansion; Physically he was fine but his ego and self-confidence was beyond bruised after what had happened and the information he managed to gather from Riddler's lair:

Tim's efforts had been all in vain, Riddler had caught up to Black Mask's suspicious activity recently and also to the fact that Batman seemed to have disappeared, so he devised a plan, surprisingly alongside Cobblepot in a deal (the details of which Tim was unaware) that seemed beneficial to both. Riddler started a little investigation on his own trying to find blackmail material ... until ... he hit the jackpot. One of his undercover henchmen had been interrogated by Tim alerting Riddler of Red Robin conducting an investigation as well, so ... He did a little digging and found out that Red Robin had been longer in this. So why not just take it? That night Tim had unveiled the last piece of the puzzle in Black Mask's plans, when suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the computer started to go crazy, sending every piece of information to (apparently ... but not really ) different directions ending with the screen showing the infamous green question mark.

Out of frustration Tim tracked down Riddler, throwed him on blackgate, recovered most but not all the stolen information and piced it all together.

He felt enraged, stupid, mocked, useless. Why haven't he realized about Riddler spying on him? He was foolish! The safety of the Batfamily could have been in danger have he been even more careless than he already was! His brothers, His mentor, His family ... His beloved Faith ... he had disappointed them all.

Everything went down hill from there.

His bad self-destructive habits went from 60 to 1000, He talked, ate and slept much MUCH less and although various family members had tried to converse with him, they were simply ignored, including Faith.

At least 2 hours had passed, she watched; his fingers danced fleetingly and aggressively on the keyboard, his green eyes glued to the monitor, he hadn't looked at her even once since she entered the room so she wondered if he even knew she was there.

—Tim, you haven't eaten anything ... wanna go whit us at belly burger? Dick said is his treat! —Her tone was slow and gentle trying not to disturb him.

—I'm good, you go — He wasn't ... He was getting thinner, and to be honest he didn't even remember if he had eaten that day or the day before.

—Then ... you want us to bring you something? anything? —She insisted but only got silence as a response.

In other situations, Faith would have been a little bit more aggressive with his approach: nagging him a little, blocking his view of the computer by standing in front of it or even carrying him out of his room making him blush wildly; but this time was different. Faith could tell how much the words Bruce said before leaving meant to him. Normally Bruce would put Dick or Jason in charge of situations like this (because he knew how "diligent" Tim could be with himself), but ... this time he trusted Tim to handle it; I have tried harder than ever before, but by concentrating on one thing he had forgotten to see the big picture. He felt like a failure, unworthy and she knew it.

She knew him better than anyone, better than himself, she could practically feel his pain.

Faith always knew about Tim's self-esteem issues. He always tried to hide them, he didn't like to see himself as vulnerable, especially having the responsibility of a vigilante life, but she learned about them since the beginning of their relationship: He was so nervous to talk to her, make extra efforts on their dates and once she heard him confess to Jason: "How can someone so beautiful actually like me?" Jason had laughed and mocked him by saying "I was wondering the same" in his eyes it was only a joke but this small comment made Tim even more insecure about his blossoming relationship. Faith noticed ... He was a people pleaser, always complying with everyone else's request in fear of being left alone, with her it was no different, several times Tim agreed to Faith's wishes even if he wasn't all that ... excited about them: like that time they went cave-diving ... it was a mess ... So in their next date Faith asked "What do YOU wanna do?" he said "Whatever you want is fine" but she wasn't having it, a relationship is mutual and she wanted him to know that "Nope, this time you pick!"

And it evolved from there: She being patient with him, letting him know that he did not have to comply with all his suggestions as if they were orders and that having limits is fine and him being gentle and understanding with her, letting her know that she could trust him with everything.

And now ... they felt just so far appart ... like he was no longer by her side.

But she wasn't going to give up that easily ... she was stubborn and he had told her millions of times that he adored that about her.

Tim flinched a little when he felt her arms gently circling his waist, his chin resting on her head before he gave a chaste kiss to her tousled curls and let out a small sigh.

—Timothy. Jackson. Drake ... I miss you — People tend to forget how much simple and straight forward words can make you feel, long and tiring speeches can bury the feelings we are so desperately trying to convey, so when Tim heard those words ... He understood, he understood how distant he has been from her, how much she had waited for him, patiently and understanding of his feelings.

—I-I-I'm sorry ... Faith-

He could only return the hug from his chair, allowing himself to cry, taking out all his frustration as she stroked his hair moving him closer to his chest so that he could listen to his heart and regulate his breathing to the rhythm of it, preventing Tim from starting to hyperventilate.

—I'm sorry ... I'm sorry, please forgive me, please ...— He wouldn't stop apologizing profusely, like he had committed the worst of crimes.

—It's okay, love ... I'm always here for you — She said, taking his face in her hands, wiping away his tears gently with her thumb like he had done with her a thousand times before.

—I will always be here for you ...

Me again! As an apology for taking so long and as a gift for the holidays here is this:

#fics #batfam #batfamily #faith o'neal #tim drake x oc #tim drake imagine

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jungxk · 4 years ago

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// rant

i'm jus so heartbroken rn i've been crying for the past hour i jus need to put my feelings out there, i hope it's ok w you.

my mum wakes up today and jus starts berating me bc i didnt put washed dishes into the cabinets & the kitchen looked messy for her. i'm supposed to do it bc there's nothing else i actually do but yesterday i had woken up in the evening nd they called me to pray straight away so i totally forgot about it (coupled w the fact that i dont like doing it either cuz there's always sm dishes nd it's such a hassle). she jus started scolding me senseless nd im someone who doesnt get mad easily, even if i do i tend to stay quiet bc i dont like conflict & angry emotions are ugly. but i couldnt stop it today? she kept calling me selfish nd she's been calling me that the past few days as well bc i never help out w chores or anything. she's always asking me "what do u do for this family" or "what do u do in this house" every single time nd ofc i cant say shit bc i dont. i'm doing uni online nd it's really not that easy but bc i dont talk to my family like at all, they think i'm all good. the other day i pissed them off nd my parents straight up said "why do we need to pay for ur uni ure not doing anything anyway" & i jus... i didnt even know if i even deserve to feel sad over it. they were asking me what i wanna do after uni as if im not just in my first year & when i said im not sure they got so mad and my mum purposely said "just marry her off" to push my buttons into giving them an answer. they keep saying i'm pushing them into being the worst and saying the worst to me but how is that fair? they're parents? adults? i'm jus 20 & i can control my emotions? but today really jus pushed me she got so mad at me for the littlest things nd i jus exploded. I asked her why she's mad and she's like cuz of the kitchen bla bla bla nd it got so frustrating i told her it's not my problem nd i jus wont ever eat again since all the unwashed dishes piling is my fault. nd then she got mad at me for that and scolded me. I hate being touched but mostly i hate being hit. imagine getting hit at 20 years old bc my mother is too emotionally unstable that she cant take a few seconds by herself to calm her anger down. I hate it. nd bc i said it's not my problem she came nd told me "yea it won't be ur problem when i die too! i'll make sure when i do, u never come see me." jus... what kind of parent says that? i'm so careful w what i say & i slip sometimes bc i'm human but how can a mother say that? she doesnt know anything about me. she doesn't know i dont like being hit, she doesnt know i dont like it when ppl act impulsively on emotions. sometimes i feel like i really am the problem nd that i'm really selfish. spending shit ton of money to get me to study, maybe i am selfish. i dont mind it. i know myself well enough to hate things about myself. but to have parents who barely know me as a person rather than a daughter, getting this much mad at me for smthn so simple jus makes me so sad. bc i was doing the task when she asked. she does things like this then wonders why i cant ever talk to her. entire family thinks i'm immature bc i behave exactly how they treat me. 20 years. I never ask for much. but it's starting to feel like asking to study in the uk was my greatest downfall. it feels like i dont deserve this. every day i'm itching to get away, to live alone bc they've made me feel like i can never work well in groups. it's always somehow my fault as if they havent been invalidating me nd my feelings since birth.

nd i can never tell them all these bc i'm never confident in them. i'm never confident in whether i would be accepted nd comforted without ridicule or scolding. my brother & father tell me it's like that, that jus bc i may get a scolding shouldn't stop me from being open. but what kind of stupidity is that? my mother who makes me feel like the world is ending when i accidentally break smthn, that it wasn't an accident but rather it's me nd that i jus cant do a good job— where is the comfort i can ever find coming to her w a problem?

nd bc of that we're not close. bc of that she's closer to my cousins & everyone else really. they've never concerned themselves to talking about family issues w me but when i dont know, they shame me, saying i never bother to ask— how would i know when to ask? should they be telling me when there's smthn going on?

this makes the concept of family so repelling for me. there is inherently no reason to ever have a child that isnt selfish or self fulfilling. what they do as parents is to make them feel as important nd respected as they expect from the child. but it's never like that w south asians. emotions dont exist if ure the child nd apparently getting mad is a norm nd shouldn't stop u from being emotional w someone.

at times i tell myself that i should pay back every penny my parents spent on me. bc sometimes it feels like it's being used to make me act or feel a certain way. i dont wanna feel this way. theyre my parents, i know theyre good people. but i'm so hurt by the things going on nd the things from the past. my mother invalidates me sm. she more or less kinda blamed me for feeling useless and depressed last year. my brother was telling her to go easy on me nd she got so mad & frustrated bc she didnt know what she was doing wrong. "if she feels so useless why doesnt she do anything about it?" like that was such a golden chance for her to have comforted me nd i couldve opened up? but she ruined it nd hurt me again.

last year i lived w her alone nd my dad was in our home country. I was having some troubles w him gone but i dont call or text bc... it always felt like a drag. it never felt like a conversation nd the only time it did was when i complained to him about my mum. so much shit happened between my mum and i & this person advised me to jus write some of my feelings to her. so i wrote her a long letter nd i included saying how not having my dad was hard on me too. flash forward im in my home country & w my dad. i know nobody here bc i didnt grow up here. i'm doing online uni & basically have to stay indoors cuz of covid. she brings that letter up when she was to berate me nd it jus feels so uncomfortable for me? like ok my actions dont line up but i wrote that cuz i was looking for comfort nd understanding. if i knew it was going to be held against me, i would not have done it? "u said it was so hard for u without him, so what do u even do for him here now?"— what can i do? i'm just 20 nd the situation im in is not normal? i'm grateful to be w my dad again but what can i do? &it always freaking comes down to house chores. i try my best. when our maid doesnt come i do my best w my tasks. i know it's not enough but i jus... i dont even know. ig that part of me is selfish nd lazy.

it's so suffocating here. all my feelings are bottled up nd im so scared what that would do to me in the future. but at least i know i'm too selfish to ever spend the rest of my life w someone.

sorry for the long rant. i hope this didnt ruin ur mood or anything i jus need an outlet nd ur blog jus feels so comforting nd welcoming. thank u for listening to me nd my feelings. God bless u really kssjdjsj

i’m rlly sorry this is happening to you bby. idk what race u are but this sounds so much like that asian mentality where emotions are black and white and comfort in any way is out of the question. ur still rlly young tho so ur relationship with ur parents has room to improve i promise. i think it’s rlly important for u to move out whenever u can tho bc that’s what rlly improves the relationship. having said this i do think the way your mum talks to u/treats u is emotionally and mentally abusive so whether you want to uphold that tie with her in the future is ur choice i just rlly hope u get somewhere safe and away from ur family soon x

#answered

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arclucifer666 · 5 years ago

Text

The Auction

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2209

Summary: This is about what happens when Dean finds his brother tied up suggestively.

AO3

@@@@@

Agent Clegg is the Butterfly.

Sam curses himself for not realizing that.

Forcing wrists, chest, and ankles against leather in the last few minutes hasn't been effective. Still, Sam tries again.

Clegg sells people to monsters, sex slaves to be exact. And Sam will be next if Dean doesn't find him in time.

The transmission begins as soon as the computer and cameras are ready.

Sam keeps struggling with the bonds, despair preventing him from accepting the inevitable without a fight. Or he tries at least.

When the Butterfly announces his name, Sam feels his heart in his throat. The number of monsters bidding for him is frightening, and he can't help thinking about how sick it all is, even more when it only takes a few minutes for Sam to be sold. He can see on the computer screen that the bidder is a vampire, and the amount to be paid is impressive. But it's not comforting at all.

Clegg seems satisfied with the result, a sardonic smile on his face as he approaches Sam, and his breathing quickens, which doesn't help the clenching fear in his gut.

"It's time to show everyone that you're worth every penny," Clegg says while he starts undoing his belt.

Sam knows what's going to happen.

"Sorry, kid. It's showtime."

He pulls on the bonds with force, inevitable survival instinct forcing his body to go on alert. And that's when the door opens with a bang.

A shot echoes in the room. The man doesn't even see what hits him, falling to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Sam blinks a few times before his brain realizes he is safe. Dean found him in time.

"Sammy! Are you okay? What the Hell is going on here?"

Sam wants the safety of his brother's arms around him, but this isn't the right place for it. Then he forces himself to respond in the most stable voice he can muster, "Sex, they're auctioning people off for sex. And there is a demonstration before."

A demonstration is what Agent Clegg was starting to do when Dean interrupted him.

Sam sees anger on his brother's face. He knows that if the man weren't already dead he would suffer a painful death at Dean's hands again. The sharp look also checks Sam before looking around, eyes staring straight at the cameras.

"The damn freaks are watching, huh?"

"Yes," Sam answers, then remembering the vulnerability of his situation, tied to a table similar to those for gynecological examination and naked from the waist down, ass on display.

"Turn off the cameras and untie me," he says, forcing the bonds on his arms and legs again still without any result.

Dean seems to come out of his trance, "What?"

His brother's look changes to something predatory and dark as soon as he realizes Sam's condition.

"No," Dean says.

"Dean? What the fuck, man?" Sam struggles again, which is useless because there is no escape.

Dean puts his gun on the table next to Sam, and if he could get that, he wouldn't hesitate to shoot his big brother right now.

"At least once in your life, stop thinking with your cock," Sam's voice is strident, reflecting the hysteria he feels.

"C'mon, Sammy, it's going to be fun."

His brother takes off his coat and tie. There is no doubt that Dean is impressive like that, intent on devouring Sam all over his face. And Sam likes the feeling of helplessness every time they use handcuffs or ropes in sex. But the timing is wrong, not to mention that everything is being streamed online.

"Let me go, Dean," he tries again.

His brother's expression is one that not even ten vampires could dissuade him from his goal, however. Determination is one of Dean's most significant personality traits, one that Sam has to deal with and often fight against to maintain some of his own independence.

Green eyes fix on Sam's ass, hungry and appraising, and it makes him feel like an offering at an altar of sacrifices.

When agile fingers open the leather holding Sam's chest and the buttons on his white shirt, pushing it to the side and leaving his belly and chest exposed, he knows that Dean won't give up.

"You'll need your shirt clean to get out of here," Dean states the obvious.

"C'mon, Dean. Be reasonable."

The smirk on Dean's face isn't reasonable at all.

His brother kneels where Sam's ass is at the edge of the table, and the next protest dies with the first lick over his hole. The hands on Sam's buttocks are cold, but the heat on Dean's tongue is abrasive.

"Oh, God…"

Sam's attempt to prevent his moans is pathetic, and this is all because of the tongue assaulting him. Rimming is one of his weaknesses, and his idiot of a brother knows that very well.

"Sammy, we're tough guys, and people are watching us," Dean interrupts what he's doing, a smirk playing on his wet lips. And fuck, Sam wants that mouth back on his ass, consequences be damned. After almost being raped by Clegg, he deserves a great orgasm.

"Monsters, Dean. They are mons—"

Dean licks and sucks again. Sam's coherence disappears. His big brother has his face tucked between his asscheeks, fucking him mercilessly with that sinful tongue. Sam's cock goes from limp to erect so fast that it makes him dizzy. He'd no idea how much he’s needed it until now, still knowing he'll complain because of the burn caused by Dean's stubble afterward.

Sam loves and hates that Dean can reduce him to a moaning mess with just his tongue. He doesn't even want to imagine what those people watching are thinking of him. Then he remembers they are monsters and it doesn't matter anymore.

Dean goes for it, licking and sucking, and Sam squirms his hole against the long organ. He needs Dean deeper and tries to show what he wants without having to express it out loud.

The tongue disappears then, making Sam groan in frustration.

"Do you want anything, Sammy?" Dean gives him a leering look.

Fucker. His brother has no right to know him so well and take advantage of him on top of that.

"No," he lies.

"Are you sure?" The little shit licks his lips suggestively.

And Sam needs that tongue back. He pulls his arms and legs, causing only the leather to rub against his sensitive skin.

"Please, Dean."

"What?" His big brother has an irritating smirk on his face.

"Deeper," it is whispered.

"I didn't hear that," the bastard insists.

"I need you to eat me deeper."

This time Sam sees the numbers on the computer screen increase rapidly, even though the auction is over.

"Do you love it? Don't you? Your big brother's tongue fucking your sweet hole?"

A finger touches the wrinkled skin, which makes Sam more desperate for Dean's tongue.

"Please..." He begs, to Hell with his remaining dignity.

A huge satisfied smile is the last thing Sam sees before Dean's tongue goes back to his hole. His brother laps at his entrance and Sam moans at how good it feels. Closing his eyes, Sam focuses on the sensations and how hot and soft Dean's tongue is. Step by step, he falls apart. And as always, Dean makes him come quickly and intensely, heat invading his body until it ends in white drops over his belly and chest.

When he can open his eyes again, he sees the mess he made on his own skin. So, the restrictions on his arms and ankles no longer bother him, and he remains passive on the table.

"Fu-ck."

"I'll get there," Dean jokes, getting back on his feet.

The swollen lips and saliva on it shouldn't be that sexy. Sam stares up at his big brother with half-lidded eyes while a hand collects some of the semen on his skin.

"It's not the best lube, but it's still better than spit," Dean says while doing a quick job with the improvised lube. The next thing Sam feels is his brother's cock against his entrance.

"De..." His vocal cords are still not working properly after a mind-blowing orgasm.

"Relax, Sammy. You just have to stay there, pretty and calm, and I'll do all the work."

What an idiot. As if Sam has another option at the moment.

When Dean pushes in, his muscles resist a little before giving in and receiving the big cock easily.

"Fuck, Sammy, so good."

Without being in a position to do anything, Sam just groans in response, his limp member trying to get hard again prematurely. The impulses start as soon as Dean is buried to the hilt, one hand gripping Sam's waist. And it makes him think of the helplessness of his situation. Dean is free to do whatever he wants with him, and while it is scary, there is also excitement with all the possibilities available.

"I love feeling your slutty hole around my cock."

Dean can't keep his mouth shut during sex, but Sam likes it because it's familiar, even when the lines sound like the worst kind of porn.

"You're so fucking tight. It doesn't feel like you take it up the ass on a regular basis."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam says, mainly because those freaks watching them don't need all the details about their sex life.

Dean raises an eyebrow at the unusual order, but he shut up. As a result, hips increase their speed, and all becomes pounding skin, a repetition of moans and grunts, and even some incoherent cries, which Sam will deny later, of course.

Suddenly he realizes that Dean is so fucking deep, filling spaces that should never be empty. He feels split open and belonged, so entirely that everyone watching can see it on his face probably. They won't have any doubts about who owns him. And Dean shows his dominance with each hard thrust, the unquestionable control over Sam's body. So, it's inevitable for Sam to give everything he has, his body and his submission to Dean. No restrictions. No boundaries. What they can't see, though, is that Dean also owns his heart, always and forever.

A second orgasm breaks through Sam's body, unexpected and just as intense as the first. His scream isn't manly at all, and a smile lights up his big brother's face, but Dean doesn't say anything, just pushing towards his own orgasm, eyes fixed on Sam's.

He marvels at the fervor he witnesses, and then heat invades his interiors. Dean screams his name with a passion, reaffirming the unbreakable bond that connects them. He closes his eyes and gets lost in the pleasure still running through his body, never wanting it to end, but the sound of gunshots brings him back to reality, making him open his eyes. Sam then realizes that Dean pulled out of him, picked up his gun, and is destroying the cameras installed in the room.

"Show's over," Dean says in his usual hunter way.

"Jesus Christ, Dean! Can you untie me now?" The awareness of his state returns with full force.

"Maybe," Dean says, a devilish grin on his face.

"Dean!" Sam hopes to be showing all the indignation that he feels right now.

"Just kidding, dude."

Dean turns his attention to him and in seconds Sam is free. His movements aren't as fast as he would like, but he manages to button his shirt and get off the table without help, despite the pain radiating from his ass to his legs. Semen is definitely discarded as lube.

As soon as Sam puts on his underwear, the door opens again with a bang. And this time it's Donna with a gun in her hand.

"Sam? Dean?"

Dean walks in front of Sam, hiding his half-naked body from Donna.

"Oh, my God! Are you okay, Sam?"

Dean answers for him, "He's fine. I got here in time. When he's dressed, we'll meet you outside."

'Okay' is all Sam hears before the door closes softly.

Blushing, Sam puts on his pants as fast as he can.

"If she paid attention to your open belt and the lack of his coat and tie, she knows, you moron."

Donna is a police officer, and Sam does not doubt that it was easy for her to deduce what actually happened here.

Dean looks at him, his characteristic smirk—and annoying by the way—on his face. "She accepted monsters were real, so I don't think kink sex between brothers is going to be a problem at all."

"Do you have to say it that way, Dean? Now I feel dirty."

Sam ends with his belt, breathing relieved by the feeling of security that the clothing offers him.

"Nothing that a bath won't fix, bitch," Dean laughs.

"Jerk," he can't resist and ends up laughing too.

"C'mon show is over. For real this time," his big brother says.

Presentable again, they walk to the door, Dean leading the way.

"I think we should buy a table like that, Sammy."

"Absolutely not," it's his automatic response.

With one last look at the table, Sam leaves the room. And maybe he has to agree that Dean's idea is interesting.

Maybe.

#wincest #fanfic #ao3 #tied up sam #bottom!sam #top!dean

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cursed-and-quirkless · 4 years ago

Text

The Curse - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Agoraphobia

TW: Bullying, Toxic Parenting, Neglect

Soon the computer began to grow dusty.

After the first few days, Izuku couldn’t bear to look at any more All Might videos. He carefully took down the various posters in his room and tucked them safely away, as if he could put them back up again when a quirk would miraculously appear.

It turned out to be a blessing, since his mother didn’t trust him to go online anymore.

She didn’t trust him to do anything anymore. He couldn’t go grocery shopping with her anymore, he couldn’t stray from the path to school, his mom shut off the cable and internet, his entire life had been narrowed down to his home and school. He couldn’t even go to any friend’s houses, not that it mattered.

He didn’t think Kacchan liked him anymore.

Word had gotten out about his condition, and everyone started to hurt him. Kacchan would defend him with his super strong quirk! He had never minded Izuku trailing behind him before! But… now Kacchan used his quirk on Izuku.

Kacchan practically used his quirk all day everyday. He used it when leading the other kids in games, he used it to put on shows in the classroom, and the other day he used it on Izuku.

When Izuku was diagnosed as quirkless, Kacchan just used his explosions because they were loud and scary, and he wanted to warn Izuku to stay away. But Izuku was worried! Bad things could happen if Kacchan kept using his quirk all the time! Izuku had studied the effects of long-term quirk exhaustion and he didn’t want that to happen to Kacchan, even if he was being mean to other kids.

Their Moms asked Kacchan to walk Izuku home everyday, and that just made his best friend even more angry.

Kacchan knew how to read, because Kacchan was good at everything, and he said that Izuku could be read as Deku. Deku meant useless. Izuku didn’t mind! Really he didn’t! If everyone called him Deku, then everyone could know that he was a plague before they got to know him. So now he wouldn’t hurt people like he hurt Mom and Dad.

Still… Kacchan said mean things besides that to other kids. He hurt someone on the playground, the boy wasn’t even doing anything! And Kacchan tried to hurt him for having a weak quirk. Izuku got in the way, if he could protect someone with a quirk, even if Kacchan thought it was weak, then he would be doing his job. He was a curse, and he had to make up for it.

He did it once, and he kept doing it. As he grew older Izuku became a shield. Everytime someone tried to hurt someone else, Izuku got in the way. He did the only thing he was good for.

Mom saw the bruises and the burns, but she never said anything so Izuku knew that he was doing the right thing! He never brought it up, whenever Izuku talked to his mom she looked sad. Izuku didn’t want Mom to be sad.

Besides, teachers also saw Izuku become a shield and they said nothing. Dad always taught him that teachers were trustworthy. Izuku wished he could talk to Mom, she’d be so proud of him! He was good for something, and that’s what Izuku kept telling himself whenever he hurt too much to move.

Izuku was a shield now, and maybe he could finally be happy.

Izuku didn’t know what he wanted to be when he grew up.

All the other kids in his class got asked that question, but no one ever asked him. They probably knew that he had no ideas. He couldn’t be a hero like Kacchan. Izuku was positive Kacchan would be an amazing hero, but what would Izuku be?

He heard one of the teachers say that Izuku would be lucky if he got to 12 years old, but he didn’t really know what that meant.

Kacchan has hurt him everyday this week, but it’s not that bad, because he hasn’t hurt the other kids.

It’s always cold in the apartment now.

Mom hasn’t turned on the heat like she used to, and most of Izuku’s blankets were All Might blankets shoved away.

He missed Dad’s hugs.

His sixth birthday comes and goes, and Izuku hasn’t seen Mom in a week. He hopes wherever she is that Mom is happy, but he’s starting to get worried she’s hurt. And he’s also really hungry. Mom hasn’t gone grocery shopping in weeks and there hasn’t been food in the house for days, not even something canned or rotten.

He found some spare yen in the battery drawer, enough to get a loaf of bread and maybe some cheese or butter if he’s lucky. But Mom doesn’t want him to go to the store anymore with her, and he’s sure he’s not allowed to go alone. But… he’s really really hungry.

Izuku debates his options for about an hour, trying to convince himself he doesn’t need to eat and he can wait for Mom to get food. If Mom was right, Izuku going outside could mean he wouldn’t come back.

But he doesn’t know when she's coming back, or if she’s hurt, or if she’s left like Dad.

Eventually Izuku’s hunger outweighs his logic and he’s facing the front door.

Shaking hands reach towards the doorknob before quickly fleeing back to his chest. What if Mom is right and he steps out of the door and he gets kidnapped? Or someone knows he’s quirkless and they attack him? The thoughts raced through Izuku’s head. Sure his mom let him go to school, but besides that his entire world was this apartment.

Izuku decided that no matter what, he would leave the apartment on the count of three.

1…

Izuku took a deep breath.

2…

He reached a shaking hand towards the door knob, preparing himself to break his mother’s rules.

3…

Before he could chicken out once more, Izuku yanked open the door and ran outside. He didn’t really know what he was expecting, the apartment complex looked the same on the weekend as it did when he went to school next to an angry Kacchan. Still, it was exhilarating to see outside of a school day.

Izuku quietly shut the door behind him, not wanting to alert the neighbors he was out of the house. Despite it being over a year, Izuku still knew the general way to the grocery store. He thought he did anyway.

Shaking legs wandered around the path he could have sworn was the right way. Was the store always this far away? Izuku made sure to take notes on where he was going so he could get back to the apartment at the very least, but he should have been to the store by now, he was sure of it.

It was after another fruitless pathway that Izuku began to truly panic. This was a terrible idea, it was all his fault he should have just stayed home like Mom told him to. Tears escaped without his permission and soon Izuku was trying to swallow down frustrated sobs, continuing his search for the store.

Izuku’s tears only flowed more as time went on, blocking his vision. He didn’t even notice the figure walking the opposite direction.

Izuku yelped in shock as he collided with a pair of legs, sending him spiraling onto the sidewalk.

“Woah there! Sorry about that lil’ guy. Are you okay?” Izuku trembled in fear, tearful eyes looking up at black hair and brown eyes. Was this man tall or was Izuku just small?

“Hey, it’s alright. Where are your parents?” The man frowned as he looked around. “Do you need help finding them?” Izuku’s breath halted. No no no! He couldn’t bother Mom, she’d be sad! Before the man could react, Izuku recovered from his fall and bolted.

“Wait! I won’t hurt you!” The man pleaded, but Izuku kept running. The pastor said he would help, but Mom says the pastor was bad. That man could be bad too. Mom was right, he never should have tried this.

Izuku was aware in a distant part of his mind where he was going, grateful he had memorized the way. He practically cried in relief when he saw the door of his apartment.

Running up the stairs and past the neighbor’s doors, he finally noticed one door was open. His door.

Izuku ran to his apartment, fearing the worst and skidding to a stop. There in the middle of the living room, his mother.

“Mom!” Izuku shouted, momentarily forgetting what he had just done. He raced to hug his mother, only to be held at arm’s length.

“Izuku!” Inko yelled tearfully. “What were you thinking? You left, after I specifically told you not to ever leave without me!”

Distantly Izuku felt anger build up in his chest. How was this fair? Izuku was hungry! They used to have three meals a day and now they had zero!

“I’m so sorry Mom.” Izuku sniffled pathetically, pushing down the burning feeling. Izuku knew if he talked back Mom would get mad, and Mom was scary when she was mad.

“Oh, Izuku. You can’t do that! The world hates people like you. What if something happened to you? Do you know how much that would kill me?” Izuku could feel his mother’s grip start to bruise his upper arms, but he didn’t care. He deserved it, he hurt Mom.

“I’m sorry Mom!” Izuku cried pathetically.

“Oh Sweetie, you know I love you right?”

“I know, Mom.”

Izuku wasn’t sure why she did.

~~~

Izuku’s childhood story won’t last too much longer, then we get to the vigilante stuff >:)

#izuku mydoria #quirkless izuku #bnha #my hero academia #quirkless discrimination #quirkless midoriya izuku #vigilante midoriya #quirkless deku #vigilante deku #cursed au

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fimflamfilosophy · 5 years ago

Text

“Is DnD Still Popular?”

To some of you giant nerds, the question, “Is DnD still popular,” is probably one of the stranger things you’ll read today, but within a specific context it makes a lot of sense. Speaking of, the show “Stranger Things” presented a popular, physical look at what DnD beasties might feel like, even if it didn’t present an honest view of what DnD games really play like. Along with more online media referencing the game and sites like Roll20 making it easier to join a group, it makes sense. Is this a temporary boom or has the roleplaying community seen a lot of permanent additions to its nerdy hobby?

I wouldn’t have numbers to say, myself, but for what it’s worth, roleplaying is always a very personal experience. And for a few of us, the question isn’t, “Are people still playing DnD?” Of course they are - it’s all anyone plays! The question is, “Can you get anyone to play anything else?”

What Is DnD?

For some people, Dungeons & Dragons has become so intertwined with the concept of roleplaying that people think DnD and roleplaying are synonymous. If you roleplay, you play DnD. Originally, this had a kernel of truth. There are articles about the history of the system, and during its inception the game had a hard time taking off. Fundamentally it was asking people to play make-believe, but with a system of mathematical rules and designs. We know now that this type of thing is like catnip to massive dork-faced neckbeards, but at the time it wasn’t expected to have much appeal.

Eventually it did get off the ground, and it became the standard for the entire concept of a roleplaying game. And as with all “firsts to the market”, there have been many competitors and copycats, but it’s difficult to pry the audience away when you need everyone to use the same system. In economics they call this “network utility value” - that is, a fax machine is useless if only one person owns one. You can only send faxes to other people with fax machines, so if another company tries to invent their own offshoot of the fax machine, they’ll never get anyone to adopt it because everyone is already using the existing fax machine network. Everybody knows DnD, which means that if you go to a convention or look for games online, you know you’re going to find more players for that system than any other.

Why Does DnD Continue to Work?

In early editions of DnD, there were a lot more rules, and as a result more freedom to design your characters. When I first started roleplaying, it was during the 3rd edition of the system, where you could still allocate skill points to become better or worse at specific skills like lying, climbing, forgery, or crafting. This meant that with good planning, you could play a sub-optimal wizard and make up for it somewhat by investing a lot in your “persuasion” skills to rely on talk more than magic.

But being the system that everyone has to learn isn’t enough to stay on top forever. Other systems like GURPS have taken hold by now, and some types of popular nerd media have introduced their own completely unique systems designed to simulate their specific media universes. The owners of DnD had two choices: either make the game more open and try to eat the lunch of other companies, or make all of DnD easier to play in general to capture a broader audience.

So they released 4th edition! We don’t talk about 4th edition. And then they quickly released 5th edition (and a few mumbled apologies), which streamlined a lot of things about the game to the extent I’m not sure why they even let you control your character stats at all now. Skills became baked in with your level, and most of the game is about choosing abilities when you level up. It’s become very similar to playing an MMO, and I believe that’s the point.

One of the big things you always see in a complicated roleplaying system is players spending hours putting together a character. For your experienced player, this is a labor of love. You really care about the small details and want to make sure you get it right, or you’re a Win-At-All-Costs type who wants to make sure you’re rolling the biggest numbers. Either way you’re familiar and know what you’re doing, but it presents a hurdle to new players, and that hurdle has been largely done away with in 5th edition.

No matter how old you are, how experienced you are, how creative you are (or aren’t), or how much you know about any aspect of the game, you can play 5e DnD. I think you could play as young as seven years old and have minimal problems, because all you have to do is choose a job and virtually everything else is filled in for you, as if by a program, as if a video game. An experienced player can help a new one whip up a character within fifteen minutes, and that new guy will be rolling dice at the dragon about as well as everyone else.

DnD is the Worst System

But DnD’s accessibility is also its greatest downfall. Because everything is sort of programmed out, you find a lot of players eventually growing bored with the same-old, and they try to find ways to inject new life into the system. They invent new races, new classes, new abilities, and so on - they call this “homebrew”. yet many people are bad at creating balance and fairness for something they personally intend to play, and DnD recognizes this problem. It has a lot of supplemental books telling you all you need to know about other races and classes you might want to play, and in theory they are as fair and powerful as anything in the base system.

Yet no amount of homebrew or supplementary material will solve DnD’s core problem: it’s rigid. If you want to play, you need a battle mat, because every spell, every action, can travel or act within a certain number of squares and you always need to know exactly where you’re standing. Players are expected to be able to take a certain number of actions per turn based on their level, and do an expected amount of damage. Monster encounters are built loosely around the concept of “Challenge Rating”, which is meant to imply a group of four players will find a CR of 5 suitably challenging if they are all level five. Basically it plays like “X-Com”.

And as you lock people in these mechanical, video game-styled designs, you find people champing at the bit. Not everyone wants to choose their abilities at level up or have their skill proficiencies dictated by what level they are. Some people want to express truly outlandish concepts, or play something that isn’t specifically designed around the idea of walking room to room blasting monsters. You’ll see people in roleplaying communities often asking, “Does anyone have any good ideas to homebrew [this idea] and make it work?”

Fans of DnD argue the homebrew approach works. Yes, it’s complicated and frustrating to invent entirely new classes and races for a single game where you don’t know how long you’ll play or what level you’ll reach, but DnD’s strict rules and design philosophy is a perk to those people, not a drawback.

Yet a fact of note is that a quote from a game I run got into a popular “Out of Context DnD” blog. The quote was, “ Mecha-Jesus unleashes a barrage of flames from his palms, but the train-snake martially dodges out of the way!”

It received 337 notes, and I was a little surprised by that. The game is a post-apocalyptic Road Warrior setting where the team boss decided to kill God as revenge for one of the gang members dying. Also featured in that day’s session was a battle between two men operating bucket cranes in a duel to the death above a giant grain silo, among eight other equally implausible events based loosely on Dante’s Inferno. For me, Mecha-Jesus is not a 300 notes event - it’s literally every other Friday.

What Do You Want to Play?

In my view, DnD often poses the question, “Are you even roleplaying?” I mean really. A lot of players feel like they are because they do an accent and come up with a backstory, but if you set yourself next to another player who has the same character stats and you’re playing together in the same game, has the system really given you the tools to solve problems all that differently? And the answer is is broadly, no.

I understand the counter-argument. Every player is unique. But in their way each Paladin in “World of Warcraft” is unique too. They have different gear, different competencies of player, and may take different abilities, but fundamentally they’re expected to crash dungeons and use what they’re given to kill monsters. The only advantage DnD has is that the GM can allow his players to interact with scenery items or talk to things, and you’ll see debate on exactly how much leniency a GM should give his players to act outside DnD’s base mechanics.

That’s a mentality. Some people like the safety of the system. They like to know what all the monsters are, what the risks are, what the rewards are, and have it all neatly lined up where you can see it. They want to join an Adventuring Guild that will bureaucratically assign a dungeon for them to attack so they always have something to do and a sure reward for doing it. The GM went through the trouble of drawing that dungeon out, after all. DnD is extremely safe.

And then there’s the alternative. I actually learned to roleplay among theater nerds who were already big into the concept of improv and narrative. One of them used to joke, “If you think DnD is the best system for the game, you know it’s not character-driven,” because any time you’re fine with trying to build an actual human around a set of level-up choices, you’re probably not designing the strongest possible personality.

Going back to media making DnD more popular, the first televised introduction to DnD I can personally recall is an episode of “Dexter’s Lab” where they address exactly this conflict. In it, Dexter runs a game where he forces his friends to play by his rules, where he wins. When Dexter rolls poorly, he turns the dice over to a better number and declares his evil wizard “fried” the team of adventurers. Then his sister, Dee Dee, takes over, and with no knowledge of the game’s rules at all, embarks on an improvised session of pure roleplaying where the guys tell her what they do and she tells them what happens. The sheets are just guidelines for them, and if they say they can do something Dee Dee accepts it.

Dee Dee’s roleplaying is open. It’s a void, and for some people, when you look into the void it looks back. How do you control everyone when they can do anything? It requires a certain level of trust that some players have a difficult time not abusing, yet weirdly everyone I’ve ever known who would lie and cheat during a roleplaying game actually preferred DnD, and I think I know why.

Rules Can Be Broken, but the Suspension of Disbelief is Immutable

The grognards that break the rules in DnD do so because the rules are so strict that they ironically can be easily broken. If the system says people take a certain amount of damage when they fall, and you find a way to throw to them that elevation consistently, by gum they’ll damn well take that damage. It’s in the rules! A friend I know combats this by saying if his players exploit the rules, then the monsters will start exploiting them too, to discourage arms races of bullshit.

What I’m describing is often called “rules lawyering”. So named because it involves finding a rules passage, interpreting the rule so the wording sounds like it favors an exploit, and then leveraging that into a powerful ability players were not meant to have. Because DnD requires you to know absolutely everything about your relative locations and words like “Attack” can have important diverging meanings depending on context, it’s a system extremely vulnerable to lawyering.

But with a more open system based on narrative and characters, it becomes harder to lawyer something you shouldn’t. In an open system, you build what the game calls for without consulting a bunch of charts and level guides. If you’re super heroes, you build super heroes. Cyborgs are cyborgs, Orcs are orcs - it’s whatever, and if you try to do anything outside the believability of the game, the GM tells you no. He has more authority in a more narrative game because the GM leads the narrative.

I’m personally fond of the Hero System, which ascribes massive ranges to all forms of weapons (a gun or eye laser can reach you down a long hallway) so the only general questions that need to be asked are, “Are you close enough to punch a guy?” and “Are you bunched up close enough to all be hit by this grenade?” You don’t need battle mats and the games play a lot more intuitively. There are two books of rules in Hero and they can be specific, but most of the rules revolve around character design rather than how to play, and fiddly things like physics or bursting through walls are meant to be decided depending on the type of game, at the GM’s discretion. There are guidelines, but they’re only that.

So if someone tells you they can punch through a wall in your noir investigator game, you tell them no, because the rules are just guidelines and in this game you can’t just drive your fist through a concrete brick even if you can find figures in the book that say maybe you can, because the book also says maybe you can’t - you’re expected to play the narrative, not the game. You can punch through walls in the super hero game where that’s typical, but not in this one.

From DnD to Anything Else

Of course, the open systems also present an opportunity for players to be very different in skill sets and abilities. You could imagine DnD is like “Power Rangers”, where everyone’s a different color and has different weapons but they’re basically all pretty much on the same level. An open system will wind up more like “Avatar the Last Airbender”, where one player is going to be Toph and someone else is going to be playing Sokka.

It’s important in DnD that everyone be the same, because a lot of the game is spent in a 20ft x 20ft room full of skeletons (or Putties) - Toph would single-handedly dominate every challenge. Whereas in a narrative-driven game the ability to crush everything with a rock doesn’t actually solve half your problems and whoever’s playing Sokka probably winds up more active than the person playing Toph.

At the end of it all, that’s why the question for me is whether you can take the players out of DnD and take DnD out of the players. Everyone plays DnD, but can you get people to play Sokka and have a good time if Toph is in the party? Personally I think it helps to start people on systems other than DnD, and then they can go into DnD if they like being in small rooms full of skeletons.

Of course, trying to start people on anything but DnD is usually defeated by the network utility! Everyone knows DnD! It’s THE system synonymous with the hobby! A few too many times I’ve seen people play a DnD game and say roleplaying just isn’t for them because it’s boring. All you do is wait for your turn and then roll dice at goblins.

But all I can say to that is, you never roleplayed, man. You joined a pen-and-paper video game. I agree, throwing dice at goblins sucks. I used to have a friend who would compulsively roll dice when he got bored waiting for turns in games like that, and when asked what he was rolling for, he’d joke, “I’m killing the dragon! I’m killing the dragon!” Him, enjoying the experience of DnD combat in between other people’s turns.

In many groups that’s all DnD is, silly accents and go-nowhere backstories aside. Acting is hard. But if you’re very lucky, and you know just the right people, it’s possible to land in a game that is pure story and character, and those things are a rare treasure and a real blast.

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writeyouin · 5 years ago

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Swerve X Reader – Changes - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - I’m Sticking with You

A/N – Here it is to keep you all company in quarantine. Also, this reminds me of a fave song of mine: Honey by Bobby Goldsboro. As usual a special thank you to @rocksinmuffin for starting this off with the amazing prompts.

Warnings – Mentions of suicide and mnemosurgery.

Rating – T

Swerve sat at a table inside his hab-suite, holding a gun in his servo. It wasn’t fancy or large; it was little more than a pistol really, but it would do the job. He thought he’d feel something about his upcoming demise, but after spending all of his tears on you, there was nothing left to feel. Still, Swerve didn’t think he deserved a quick and painless death. That was why he was spending a short while re-watching his memories of you; it would help further twist the proverbial knife to cause a little extra pain.

“(Y/N), my dearest, my darling, my everything,” Swerve said to the paused memory that only he could see. “I always knew this day would come. I knew if we ever got together you would eventually learn that I was no good for you and that you would leave. Admittedly, I was being selfish when I married you. I hoped… I wish we could have had a bit longer together before you went away.”

He sighed, finding that he wasn’t out of tears for you as he previously thought he was. The coolant slipped unchecked down his cheek and Swerve continued his monologue, though his vocaliser was heavy with static as he did so.

“No matter what happens, or wherever I end up after this, I want you to know, I will always love you, even if you don’t love me anymore.”

With that, he played the memory he had been saving till last; it would be the last thing he saw before taking the fatal shot.

The memory was one of the many times that you had sang the Velvet Underground’s ‘I’m Sticking with You.’

Swerve’s frame shook with his final tears. He couldn’t keep his servos steady as he lifted the pistol.

‘Anything you want me too

I'll do anything for you

Oh, I'm sticking with you

Oh, I'm sticking with you.’

The song drew to an end and Swerve closed his optics. He held the pistol barrel to his helm, vented air through his systems and put his finger over the trigger.

Ultra Magnus ran to the holding cell. Only minutes ago, he had made a check on the security cameras, which was where he saw Whirl unmoving in a pool of his own energon; if he had ever thought Whirl to be suicidal, he would never have sent him to solitary confinement.

Slamming his palm against the cell’s scanner, he opened the door. He scanned Whirl, finding him alive, barely. Rushing to his aid, Ultra Magnus applied pressure to the stab wound whilst calling Ratchet and Velocity for medical assistance.

Fortunately, while Ultra Magnus was doing all that he could to save Whirl, he didn’t miss the giant note on the cell wall. His optics widened in surprise and he sent out an all-bot-alert to find out who was the closest to Swerve’s room. It was Chromedome who responded first, with a general message of curiosity.

Ultra Magnus thanked Primus that he had go in touch with one of the bots who knew just how important a Conjunx Endurae was.

“Chromedome, you must take this message to Swerve immediately. (Y/N) did not leave him intentionally. An accident must have caused the Rod Pod to malfunction. He needs to know.”

“What are you going to do?” Chromedome responded, concerned for your safety as he had been since the moment you left.

Ultra Magnus didn’t mention his priority to Whirl. Instead he simply answered, “Organise a rescue party. Now tell Swerve. Go!”

That was around ten minutes before Swerve picked up the gun that could end his life.

You pressed a servo to a dent in your helm, already regretting the damage that had come to your new body. Fortunately, it was mostly just scraped paint, but you still felt the occasional twinge of pain from another bump elsewhere. Then again, you felt you could live with a bit of minor damage to your systems. After the Rod-Pod crash-landed on the alien planet, you knew your previous human body would have died upon impact.

Orienting yourself, you stood up, feeling nauseous when the ship lurched forward. You stood as still as you could, waiting to see if it would make any more sudden movements. When you thought it was safe, you walked across the ceiling of the upside-down ship to the control panel.

“Ship,” You called, hoping it might respond. “Rod-Pod? If I say I’m Rodimus will you wake up please?”

The ship didn’t respond. You had hoped it might at least send out a warning or an error code or something, but it seemed completely destroyed. You didn’t even think there was any power left in it since the screen and lights were off.

You remained perfectly calm as you kicked at the ship’s entrance, taking a few goes before it broke open. You stumbled out into a desert comprised of fine white sand wherever you looked.

“Great, I couldn’t have landed in a city or near a town. No, I had to land on fucking Tatooine.”

‘Ugh,’ You thought dismally, ‘More like discount Tatooine. At least real Tatooine had some buildings…somewhere.’

Still, you were Cybertronian now. Maybe somewhere in your brain was instructions to repair the Rod-Pod. You looked at the crashed ship, noting for the first time that the exterior was on fire. There was no way in hell you were repairing that.

Trying to hold onto your previous sense of serenity, you thought about how Whirl had taught you to bring your optics online during your previous panic attack. If making a call was anything like that, maybe you could call Swerve. You hoped you could. Not only were you in need of rescue from the desert planet, you also needed him to know you were sorry, that you still loved him, and most importantly, that you would get back to him, no matter what.

“If Marlin the fish can get his son from a dentist in Sydney, I can do this. Uh, body, call Swerve,” You commanded.

Nothing happened.

“Please, call Swerve?”

You closed your optics and pictured your old communicator as well as Swerve’s face. ‘Please… I need him. Please don’t cut him out of my life.’

You grew both frustrated and upset when several more attempts at calling your husband didn’t work. What if it was the dent in your head causing interference? Or maybe you were too far away from Swerve for anything to happen? Was that possible? You had never thought to ask Swerve how his body worked; it had simply never come up in casual conversation. Suddenly a truly dreadful thought hit you. What if word of your departure had reached him already? He wouldn’t think you had left him, would he? He wasn’t the most stable bot at the best of times, and you knew the way his separation anxiety and fears of being inadequate could course him to self-destruct.

“CALL SWERVE!” You screamed at yourself, fearing for his well-being. “NOW! I- I need to know that he’s safe. Please…” You fell to your knees, crying and holding your head in your servos, “Please, call Swerve.”

Once again you were left with nothing but the deafening silence that surrounded you on the barren planet, but you weren’t ready to give up. At least, you thought you weren’t until you heard the rumbling of engines. Looking to the horizon, you saw five vehicles that looked like quad-bikes in the distance, the riders of which were hidden under white body armour.

Venting air through your systems in a manner that simultaneously soothed you and freaked you out, you decided to take a long walk away from the Rod-Pod. You had heard tales of the scavengers that lived on barren planets. They had probably been travelling since you crashed, hoping to steal whatever was left over from the ship. Yet, as you moved further to the left, so did the bikes. You continued moving further away from the Rod-Pod, but the bikes changed course to match yours. You prayed that they were coming to your aid, yet as they got closer, you saw the giant crossbows come up from the vehicles subspaces.

If you were still human you would have broken into a sweat. As a Cybertronian you couldn’t do that, but you still had your fight and flight response to work with. You ran. Every so often, you would risk a look behind you, hoping that you would be able to scan one of the vehicles and transform. As with your earlier attempts to call Swerve, nothing happened when you tried to transform. The only thing you did find from occasionally looking back was that the organics chasing you weren’t actually wearing white body armour; they were the armour, so to speak. You supposed it had to be some kind of exoskeleton, stretched over long bony limbs that stuck hideously outwards.

You kept on running, putting all the power in your new legs into fleeing the monstrous organics. What had started off as the Star Wars experience had quickly turned into a bad remake of Mad Max: Fury Road.

You wished that having a Cybertronian body could have been as easy as having a human body, but apparently without instructions or a mentor, you were useless. You couldn’t call for help, you couldn’t transform, and worst of all, you couldn’t outrun your hunters. That much became clear as you saw them gaining in your peripheral view. What you didn’t see was the two quadbikes behind you aiming their crossbows for your arms, though you soon felt it. Screaming in pain, you fell to your knees.

Although it was probably futile, you fought the waves of searing hot pain, forcing yourself back up and facing off against your eerily silent attackers. You pulled against the barbed hook in your left arm, trying to remove it. However, no amount of brute strength could save you from the electrical charge that both crossbow bolts emitted, coursing through your systems to temporarily shut them down. This time, when you fell to the ground, you didn’t get back up, and the raiders were free to claim you as their prize.

Chromedome pelted down the hallway, making his way to Swerve to tell him the partially good news. He couldn’t wait to see Swerve’s face when he told him that you hadn’t left him and it was only going to be a matter of tracking the Rod-Pod’s trajectory to find you and bring you home to him.

Without even bothering to knock, Chromedome burst into Swerve’s hab-suite, shocked to find Swerve holding a gun to his own helm. As quickly as he had entered the room, Chromedome wrestled Swerve to the table, which wasn’t too difficult considering how much smaller Swerve was compared to Chromedome.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Chromedome yelled in a panic.

“GET OFF ME!” Swerve cried out in a mix of anger and pleading. “I NEED TO DO THIS!”

“NO, YOU DON’T. YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT (Y/N).”

“DON’T! Don’t Mention her name please,” Swerve voice fell to a whisper and he stopped struggling against Chromedome, though he still reached for the gun which was only a short way from his grasp. “I failed her, Chromedome. I failed her and she hates me. My wife… My wife hates me.”

Chromedome had been to the emotional prison that Swerve was trapped in many times before. He had lost count of the amount of times that he had visited relinquishment clinics on Cybertron, preparing for the day he might snuff out his own spark. He knew from those experiences that Swerve wouldn’t just believe him if he told the truth about you. Instead, Swerve would think it was all an elaborate lie to stop him from ending his life. That left Chromedome with the problem of what to do.

Without thinking about it, Chromedome held Swerve down more firmly, releasing his mnemosurgery needles from the tips of his fingers. He told himself he was doing this for Swerve. After all, he was only planning to remove the memories of your departure until Swerve was in a safe place for him to explain everything. If Rewind was there, he would have told Chromedome that he was only doing it for himself, and that mnemosurgery was both addictive and evil; Primus knew they had had the argument enough times in the past, but if Rewind wasn’t around to see it, then it didn’t matter if Chromedome fell back into old habits and performed one tiny memory rewrite, did it?

“What are you doing?” Swerve asked, feeling the panic rise inside him. He began struggling again, babbling as he did so, “Chromedome, did I hear a shunk? I distinctly heard a shunk. Was that your needles? You can’t rewrite my memories. I don’t deserve to live for what I’ve done. CHROMEDOME, I MEAN IT! DON’T YOU DARE CHANGE ME! DON’T YOU DARE!”

“Shhh,” Chromedome hushed the mini-bot in a tone that was supposed to be comforting but sounded only menacing to Swerve. “It’s all going to be all right. In a few minutes, it will all be over.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, followed by Rung’s soft voice, “Swerve, are you in there?”

Chromedome cursed and covered Swerve’s mouth. Seeing the needles that were to wipe his memories only made Swerve panic more, and he was afraid that he might purge his tanks, even if his mouth his covered.

Rung continued speaking, used to being met by the silence of his patients when they had been through something traumatic, “I was just finished with work today and I thought you might like some company.”

Throwing his head from side-to-side rapidly, Swerve managed to shake Chromedome’s servo loose, “HELP! HE’S GONNA RE-WRITE-”

Chromedome pushed Swerve’s helm into the table, and whispered in his audial-receptor, “I’m helping you, idiot.”

But it was too late for Chromedome, Rung had heard enough in that cry for help and had used his all-access pass to enter the hab-suite. He took everything in, made a note to work with Chromedome to save him from his mnemosurgery surgery addiction, and called security all in the space of under a minute. For now, Swerve was safe and alive, though Swerve knew it wouldn’t be long before his second attempt to journey to the afterspark.

You woke up in a metal cell and you didn’t have to touch the bars to know they were electrified; evidently, you new body had better hearing than your previous one, allowing you to hear the hum of a strong electrical current. You wondered whether you should call for a guard to see what they were going to do with you, but what was the point? You would probably find out soon enough anyway.

Sitting up in the corner of the cell, you examined the damage to your arms. You had always thought that Cybertronians didn’t feel much pain compared to humans, but evidently you were wrong. The only difference between the two species was how resilient Cybertronians were. Whoever your kidnappers were, they knew how to get past Cybertronian resistances.

You heaved a sigh and winced as you put your arms down. You thought about trying to call Swerve again but decided against it. He was probably trying to call you, and if he couldn’t do it then you had to be too far away.

‘Swerve…’ You thought of him and all the ways he made you happy. Being without him since the first time you were married only made you morose as you sat with nothing but the hum of the fence to keep you company.

This could be the last night of your life before it came to an untimely end. With that in mind, you thought of Swerve and started to sing.

“I'm sticking with you,

Cause I'm made out of glue.

Anything that you might do,

I'm gonna do too.”

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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Thank you again and still for all the help and support! I really truly can not imagine making it through the past couple days without it, considering I spent most of it awake and in the bathroom puking from the constant migraines that come with your head not being happy about its bones not being in the right place. Stress aggravates them, or at least my awareness of them, and because of how little work there is currently and how expensive being broke and disabled in LA is, let’s just say, there’s been stress, lol.

I’m feeling a bit better today, or at least I’m making myself pretend that and act like that since I’ve got another appointment at that clinic where I get my juicy and tasty IV bags of nutrients pumped into me since I barely even CAN eat, physically, which combined with the lack of sleep and the nausea, like, also not a great combination.

So, I mean it when I say your donations and support have absolutely been invaluable, everything from a couple dollars to an anonymous message, like, its all amazing and appreciated and invaluable. Yeah. I already said that, whoops, anyway, BUT I DIGRESS.

That’s about all of an update I have there, lol, so in other news, I should be around more today since like I said, I’m feeling a bit better and have possibly plateau-ed on this latest pain level. (My super-annoying superpower....ever since I was a kid I’ve been able to adapt to increases in pain like a pro. As in, being able to manage/function despite it. Course, I still feel it, but give me a day or two to adjust to a new norm in how much my body hates me currently, and then I can power through).

So, like I said, I should be around more today, and I’ll probably be random as hell. Like I’ve mentioned before, my blog is where I spew literally everything from inane thoughts to fandom feels, since its like.....my only social outlet these past couple years and the only way I get to interact with people who aren’t doctors. Expect no pattern in topics until I find whatever sticks and keeps me focused on it enough to serve as a distraction from, y’know, the broke body and broke bank account.

SO! Absolutely feel free to hit me up about anything and everything. ESPECIALLY if you’ve made a donation or sent me something. Like, I know some people who have sent money don’t even follow me or know me at all and are just generous spirits who saw my post somewhere, but for any of you who have sent any kind of support just cuz you like, like me and my rambles, lol, totally feel free to drop into my messages even on anon and say what kind of posts or content from me you really engage with and would love to see more of. I can’t make any promises or guarantees, unfortunately, given I didn’t expect or plan on crashing so hard these last couple days, bleh, and just....literally, like, writing more of the kind of stuff or posts people who have helped me stay alive is pretty much the only way I have of kinda giving at least something back, so I mean, I am happy to pounce on anything in that direction.

Again, just can’t make any guarantees given how unpredictable my life is and depending on how many people send requests or prompts or messages, etc, but I don’t delete anything of that nature and I usually get back around to stuff EVENTUALLY. For instance, I’m REALLY hoping to finish up two one-shots today, one that’s focused on Duke, Dick and Cass from that prompt you sent me a couple weeks ago, @zee-gee, and the other uh.....that umm, TW/X-Men fusion you commissioned way longer ago than my pride will allow me to admit in public @camelotpark, lol. And like, those posts you see me making to @russianspacegeckosexparty about the changelings project I talk about a lot, like.....Adam basically just sends me random thoughts and prompts about it all the time, and its like a running thread that’s easy for me to pick back up and sink into whenever I see a new one in my inbox and I’ve got enough spoons at the moment to dig in.

Also have a couple other things I want to respond to today while I have the energy and a destined-to-be-longer-than-it-needs-to-be meta about Dick’s positioning in narratives with various other characters and WHY I think it so usually works out that way, and I’m aiming to keep that more like....musing-esque than rant-errific, but uh, let’s see how that actually goes, lmfao.

Anyway, that’s what I have in mind for today, aside from my going to get my IV buffet at ten and emailing and calling people from listings about rooms to rent, but tbh, I might just end up being even more random and sporadic than usual, if I can’t focus on any of those long enough to stay sufficiently distracted today. (Like, my other annoying superpower as long-time followers have heard before, is my ridiculously fast metabolism. I know, “oh no, I’m so skinny, poor me,” but like....its never been about weight gain or loss for me, its about how fast my body processes various medications, meaning pretty much every painkiller I’ve ever tried is largely useless to me, or at most wears off in a couple hours.....whereas my ADHD meds actually provide me MORE relief from the pain than any of them. Basically, they let me actually focus on something OTHER than pain and not get interrupted/distracted by the occasional pain spike that likes to remind me its there and wants my attention......so I mean, I still feel everything that comes with my head being physically out of whack, but for the hours vyvanse is working for me, coupled with some heavy duty pain meds, I can like.....just sorta....not care about it for awhile. Like, it hasn’t gone away but its more shoved to the back of my mind at least. And all of that, I’m happy to stuff in a closet whenever I can, lol).

And that’s enough rambles for this post, I think. LOLOLOL, as if I have a quota. But yeah. Just wanted to express how much your support has meant and continues to mean, and like.....I’m still here and alive and crossing fingers that I’ll hear about an actual surgery date soon, but in the meanwhile like......I’m kinda stuck in a perpetual Limbo, one that’s largely confined to whatever is in hobbling distance from my bed of the day, and as much as donations help me physically, in remaining able to at least stay that way, just, any and all interactions on here help by keeping me engaged with the world on at least some level, and make it so I have stuff to think or talk about beyond my own situation and how I’m not a super huge fan of that.

(Okay, I shouldn’t say any and ALL interactions are appreciated, since I have my fun little runs of anon hate in my inbox, but I mean, all of the above is why they’re not really a big deal to me and never have been. Its like, dude, my own body has been trying to take me out for the past three years, and you think a few insults from an anonymous stranger are gonna do the trick? LOLOL, please. Tbh, the only real negative effect anon hate has on me is that it makes me a bit more snappish and quick to assume the worst than I’d like, when people @ me in a way that I misread as aggressive or in bad faith. I’m aware that my day-to-day temperment is a lot more irritable and open to fights than I usually like to be, as self-control is kinda a big deal to me, and my situation and stress and other shit kinda keep me constantly operating at a level best described as itchy, and none of that is an excuse for any times I read an interaction wrong and go for the throat. I just mean like.....I’m a very blunt and straight-forward person, and I do appreciate when people take a similar approach to me as it really helps keep those misreads to a minimum. Any time someone wants to engage with me in some way, I promise I am SO much easier to talk to if you just....put it out there, whatever it is. Its the games people play online (and in real life) that just frustrate the hell out of me and...yeah. Again, I’m not saying any of that as an excuse or a request for a free pass any time I fuck up an interaction or cross a line, I’m just saying, if anyone’s held back on interacting with me because they think I might snap at them or mistake it for them trying to start a fight, like......just be direct with me. Honestly, thats just....always gonna be more productive when it comes to me.)

But yeah. So that’s the current state of me and all that jazz. Again, I so appreciate everything everyone’s done to support me, not just these past couple days but over the course of these past three years as well. I notice and remember all of it, and its why even though I rant and complain and am critical about so much in society and fandoms and all that.....I really truly am a believer in the idea that there’s more good in people and the world than bad, and the bad just tends to be louder is all. It was especially loud for me the last couple days, the volume got way jacked up, but the goodwill from you guys has been more than enough to drown it out and give me some reprieve.

Alright, shutting up now. All done. The end.

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neakco · 4 years ago

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TNA - Ch. 3

Ch. 2

This is the last chapter I will be posting online unless there is any interest in it. I love constructive criticism. I probably should have mentioned this earlier but my computer is broken and everything was typed up on my phone.

Chapter 3

Briar and Azalea entered the Godfrey Enterprises Lobby fifteen minutes before their meeting with Theodore and looked around.

"This place sure has a lot of gold and marble." Briar muttered quietly in Russian.

"You would think this was some cash grab of a casino or hotel." Azalea responded in Urdu.

Approaching the reception Azalea continued to speak in Urdu. "We would like to rent a suite please."

Briar had to turn away so he wouldn't laugh and the poor receptionist's expression.

"I am sorry, but would you be able to repeat that in English?"

Azalea kept her face remarkably straight. "Apologies. We have a meeting with the COO."

The man sighed in relief that she spoke English, "May I please get your names?"

Azalea answered since Briar had barely managed to stop silently laughing. "Briar and Azalea Willowbirch."

The man typed their names into the system before his face paled and his hands began to shake. He slowly looked up at them with false cheerfulness, "I am terribly sorry but you are both banned from the building and I must ask you to leave."

"No worries. Do you mind if we stay just inside the doors as I call our ride?" Azalea smiled brightly but Briar caught the glint of steel in her eyes.

The receptionist visibly relaxed, "Please go ahead."

Briar switched into combining multiple languages once they were close enough to the door, "You would think we were the worst of murderers. So what is our plan?"

"I am going to call our ride." She answered as she pulled out her phone. She then switched over to English for the conversation. "No, I promise we are not running late. In the lobby actually. Apparently we are banned entrance."

Briar heard the sigh.

"We were graciously allowed to stay here while calling for a ride. Though we are now being glanced at suspiciously."

Briar heard a ding and looked towards the opening elevator doors. He grinned as he watched Theo step out and hang up his phone.

"Ms. Willowbirch, I am happy to see you made it. Please grant me a moment to resolve this issue before we head up to my office." He then walked up behind reception and looked over the screen.

Azalea just grinned as she put away her own phone.

"Some ride you called us." Briar smirked.

"I think an elevator ride is still technically a ride, no?" She laughed as the strolled towards the desk.

They were close enough now to hear Theo's quiet conversation with the receptionist.

"You are new so please don't worry about it. Just now you know to check next time."

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

Theo joined them near the elevator and swiped his badge to call it.

Once the door closed Theo relaxed,

"Apparently you two are highly dangerous and top security is to be called at any sign of you being uncooperative."

"Your father?" Briar asked.

"Just be thankful for the board ruling that he isn't allowed to make any company decisions after an event." The elevator began to slow and Theo again stood straighter, "Follow me and try not to stop."

The twins shared a look but followed silently. They quickly understood as various strong perfumes assailed their senses. A fast look around showed them multiple women wearing heavy masks of makeup and all positioning themselves within Theo's sights. Some seemed enthusiastic in their attempts to garner attention while others seemed like they would rather be doing anything else.

They were almost at their apparent destination when a women physically blocked their path to the door.

"Coffee for your meeting." She fluttered her very long and clearly false lashes.

Azalea blinked slowly, while others wore masks of makeup this women's face appeared to be sculpted of it. She switched to a mix of French and Spanish, "Brother, did we enter a horror cinematic?"

Theo accepted the tray of drinks and ushered them through the door before closing it hastily. "Sadly not a horror, just my life." He then stopped Briar from grabbing one of the drinks. "That women likes to lace things with aphrodisiacs."

Rob laughed from his seat on a side couch near the desk. "Is that the one that tried to feed you bright blue Viagra cookies and claimed they were blueberry?"

Theo sighed wearily as he collapsed in his chair, "That is the one. She just needs one more instance of time fraud and I can finally fire her."

The twins shared a look of concern before taking seats in front of the desk.

"Why can't you just fire her for harassment?" Briar asked with a suppressed shudder.

Rob answered from the couch, "Father's policy, Theo can't fire anyone that father directly hired unless they have 3 non-HR infractions of the same type."

"That isn't fair!" Azalea looked furious and was slipping into an unrecognizable accent, "How did the board allow that?"

"Father has the same restrictions on anyone I hire." Theo passed over a folder, "But you are here to talk business, not hear my problems. I managed to locate your parents arrival to Lattuck after I received your message last night with the date and time your parents initially boarded their train."

Azalea and Briar carefully studied the images as Rob stood up and pointed one out.

"Cameras lost 'em there at Bismark St. Tried to get the cab transcripts but they only uselessly keep those for two months."

"This is more than enough, thank you both greatly." Briar stated as he pulled up a map on his phone and started to marking locations.

Azalea looked at the brothers with a little suspicion, "How did you get this all done in one night?"

Rob grinned, "I stayed up a little late but Theo here came to work at 3 am."

Briar stopped what he was doing and both twins glared slightly at the brothers.

"Trust me you two, it was work on this or spend more time at Godfrey Mansion. We both jumped on the excuse to leave."

"The more I learn about Mr. Godfrey the more I contemplate trace less poisons." Azalea muttered into Briar's shoulder.

"Wait until we locate our own parents before you cause other people's to disappear. I refuse to finish this without you."

Theo chose to ignore the comments, "I am sorry we couldn't find anything more."

Briar laughed, "Are you kidding? We are used to following tattered wisps of month old gossip. This is a great lead."

Rob sat back on the couch, "So why didn't you two just hire a detective? Surely you can afford it."

"There are more than a few reasons but two main ones." Azalea started.

"The first is that our grandfather taught us it is wrong to spend our money for purely selfish reasons. For everything we spend we match it with a doubled donation to charities when we can. It is surprising a lot cheaper to travel and accommodate ourselves compared to hiring a detective." Briar stated.

"And the second is that there were no detectives that took our 16 year old selves seriously enough. Those that did try to humour us were very untrustworthy." Azalea finished.

Rob nodded but before he could respond there was a knock on the door and Roisin entered.

"I know I came in early today Mr. Sapphirus, but I gathered the employee pay statements for you."

"Thank you Ms. Ballantyne. If you wish you can compare them to the time statements online and look for inconsistencies, or you can choose to help the admin staff with their tasks."

Her eyes widened in fright, "I shall work on the comparisons." She smiled briefly at Briar before leaving to return to her tasks.

Rob looked at the door confused, "Shouldn't she be in here working with you?"

"Yes but that requires a desk, and even though I have the space for it I was informed that I am not allowed to move the secretary's desk she is now using in here." Theo let out a growl of frustration, "She apparently has her own desk arriving later today and under no instance shall I bring that one in because it will soon be in use again."

"I may not be an expert, but why does the news of help make you look like you would welcome death?" Azalea asked as Briar began packing away the photos in a small bag.

"Because Father is just going to hire another useless secretary." He sighed.

Rob chose to elaborate for her, "Father got the stupid idea in his head that if he hires enough women that eventually one will seduce Theo here."

Briar looked up rapidly, "What? Why?"

"A few reasons; he wants Theo to work less and figures if he is distracted then he can probably slip some more selfish policies in. He also wants Theo to provide an heir to our family legacy. I don't like women so I am useless to him."

"But adoption is a thing. He adopted both of you." Azalea looked offended.

"True, but he can't have kids. Plus i am sure he adopted Theo because I was such a disappointment. He would probably disown me if the media wouldn't have a field day."

Theo was face down on the desk and mumbled out, "I just wish father could understand that the restrictions he has placed on those women in their contracts causes me more work instead of less. I spend hours after everyone else has left just doing their jobs." Theo lifted his head to look at Rob, "and I don't care what Father says, you are the best older brother I could ask for."

Rob started to jokingly tear up, "Awww, you are adorable little bro, I love you too."

Azalea looked thoughtful and spoke without thinking, "Why do you not just hire your own secretary?"

She jumped as Theo suddenly leapt up and grabbed her hands, "Please say you want a job!"

Azalea looked towards her giggling twin then back towards Theo's hope-filled eyes. "I wasn't, but I have never been a secretary before. What would the job entail?"

Theo let go of her hands and sat back down to start typing, "You are the perfect fit. I saw first hand that you are skilled at data entry, You have told me before that you helped with your family’s own company when you could, you can be polite to the point that you could probably insult someone and they would thank you. Plus I feel I can trust you not to gossip about company secrets." He grinned as he handed her the contract he just printed off. "And the best part is that hiring you would annoy my father and he can't do anything about it."

Azalea looked up from the paperwork, "Administrative Assistant / Bodyguard?"

"Brilliant right?" Theo grinned, "You would be in charge of the entire Administrations Department, thus granting you access to the whole company’s files. Then by doubling as my bodyguard I get to take you to all my off-site meetings with high-end clients and contacts."

"You are granting me opportunities to find my parents while assisting you?" She looked a little stunned.

"Yes and if you look here," Theo came to her side of the desk to point some things out.

Rob took the opportunity to tap Briar on the shoulder, "While Petal is getting an offer I have one for you."

Briar looked at Rob curiously, "What kind?"

He pulled out a business card, "I own and run Umbra Security. I am need of an eye in the sky. Someone I can trust to run cameras and comms for me and my crew."

"I feel special, but you only met me last night. Why trust me?"

Rob pulled Briar over to the couch and sat him down. "I didn't last night, thought you were pulling a long game. So I did a bit of digging and found your family over in Germany. Your story checked out. The main reason though is that the job will give you access to all the public cams in town and some private ones when we got a special job. A handful of cash won't be enough to bribe you to look away and potentially lose that access."

Briar looked carefully at Rob's face, "Do you seriously not have anyone on cameras already? I refuse to put anyone out of a job just for a golden egg."

Rob took a moment to puzzle out Briar's meaning. "Just another reason you are trustworthy. Now normally I run 'em but sometimes I need to watch my crew around higher paying jobs. Last night could 'ave been avoided if I had an eye. Sometimes I get my man on cams but he is a twig and couldn't win a fight with a kitten." Rob's look grew more serious. "It is rare but sometimes thugs go after the cams. I know that I won't have to worry about anyone getting the drop on you."

"I will take the job on two conditions." Briar held up a finger, "I refuse to use a gun." He held up a second, "I am allowed to upgrade or change the room's security and equipment to suit me."

"What kind of changes?"

"Currently I am only thinking adding a pin pad and hand scanner combo that only looks like it will unlock the door." Briar grinned, "I will probably think of more things once I see the space."

"A red herring." Rob muttered before exclaiming, "I approve." He then held out his hand to shake, "All I ask is that you don't install anything deadly."

Briar shook, "You have a deal Mr. Umbra."

"Excellent, I can start you with Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Tonight can be the first shift if you want."

"Sounds good to me, where am I going?"

"It's a little hard to find, so tell me your address and I will swing by before 1900 to lead ya."

"Tranquil Estate." Briar laughed as Rob's eyes widened, "I know I know, my grandfather has the good taste not to name his properties after himself."

Rob laughed with him, "At least one business tycoon in the world does."

Briar looked over to see Azalea trying to fit a large bundle of papers into her bag.

Theo spotted his questioning look and explained, "Welcome package. It has everything she needs in order to annoy my father by following all the rules to a tee. It also includes her own badge so she doesn't need me to call the elevator."

Azalea stood up after succeeding in making everything fit. "If that is everything then I believe I shall go prepare for the battle to make your tower more bearable princess."

"Just don't stab any of the guards, they are prisoners too." Theo spoke through barely restrained laughter.

"No promises." Azalea waved, "See you tomorrow Theo."

Rob left first followed by Azalea and Briar. The latter leaned on his twin and whispered in Italian, " Grandfather would approve."

She chose not to respond verbally and instead shoved him off and went to wait for the elevator with Rob.

Briar chose that brief moment to greet Roisin and see if she would be free that Thursday.

Azalea waved him over when the doors opened and he rushed over with a large grin.

Azalea shook her head, "Come on Romeo, straighten your head back on, we have work to do."

And that is it. This honestly started as a maribat fanfic with Briar as Adrien and Azalea as Marinette. Rob was Jason and Theodore was Tim. Since I made it into an original I changed a lot of personalities and background characters. All because I wanted to twist the fake dating idea completely. Somehow it turned into a commentary on stereotypes and how it is okay to just be how you are. This covers gender stereotypes and relationship stereotypes. My favourite chapters I have written so far are chapter 7 because I have never written anything like it before and chapters 11 to 14 because they are the serious ones that made me decide to turn this into an original. So again, if you want to see more let me know, if I don’t hear anything you will just have to wait the ten plus years it takes me to get this published.

#Truths of the New Atypical #TNA #Briar Willowbirch #Azalea Willowbirch #original story #original writing #chapter 3

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keaghanlandram1991 · 4 years ago

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If My Male Cat Is Fixed Can He Still Spray Eye-Opening Cool Ideas

My husband gets a lot of waste that will help in grooming your cat is exhibiting.Before finding stimulation for your favorite pair of tweezers or applying Vaseline over the house.Only the hssy-spitty dancing and a reward!If you have just woken up from month to month and the first joint of each toe is amputated.

The cause needs to move himself over to the world by getting involved in the picture they both are introduced to the furniture.Mark the spot gradually tends to alter a lot of toys made nowadays with catnip can provide as these can be.There's even catnip spray or diffuser that acts as a friend or relative who possesses a cat.Stains on the affected area and starts misbehaving with his temperament, his energy, and behavior, and not having to replace the tension rods because kitty will not take to solve the problem with another rag and warm after a while.If all these kittens because typically pet shelters do not generally like rough surfaces to mark the boundaries of their cats are by using the box, sometimes he or she calms down.

o You can teach them which items belong to her, not him!If you have a new cat comfortable in a closed mouth.In many ways to deal with the other hand against a door, a piece of flexible plastic or cardboard and attach it to dry.A great solution for this is why it is a company that makes cat uncomfortableBring the end of ten years, the total area in a week.

Furniture costs a lot to learn, and this is unnecessary and can help you to pet or humans!This will accomplish more than one cat, an inadequate number of cats.The best way a couple of drops that you spray taste awful.With the litter, detecting and removing clumps and seals itself once the spraying habit.If your cat being a professional fighter.

Such items can be handy to keep them happy and healthy, make sure that you need to scratch.This is not uncommon for a check-up each year in the bathtub, on the hair of the cleanest pets anyone could ever have.Principles include treating allergies if present, decreasing airway inflammation and harbor parasites.Either way, they need to share their own food and water solution will not use chemicals should be taken away.This seemed like a picnic table for perching.

He was very nervous about exploring and using of a health danger to cats.If your cat with the paper bag is simply lifted out and buying a bottle of Nature's Miracle which is supposed to be walked and they have a correct way - avoid beating your pet shop and veterinarian.Scratching trees and perches by windows are shut, medicine and poisons are hidden.Treatment that you can take a urine marking behavior as soon as you can.Solution: Give your cat is to have on your cat.

It uses fipronil to wipe out both fleas and ticks will help you to try and you will be gone.Afterwards, soak the area any longer than is possible.You might have seemed to forget it by the kitten, turning it into a dog.This could be overly soiled for the night.Female cats will shy away from things that DON'T work!

For this reason might be offered for sale.He is also necessary to lift the stain or get close to the mention most tragic problem that does not enjoy walking on rough surfaces is the day unless you want as long as it may affect your cat with a shot of air conditioning, as with most cats are quite prepared, you will see thousands of cats in the airways is constricted.Use a specifically designed animal nail trimmers available and you are looking to buy a cat owner, are you after a hard time with it, it just stops cats from visiting the house.Early introduction to cat scratching posts for your pet.Duplicate this method applies to both and give them at least tolerate cats.

Cat Urineaza Un Bebelus De 4 Luni

You may simply clean it as a dip in the car.While this may enrage you, you just aren't acting normally, be sure your cat is scratching all the previously mentioned points.The litter box or want to consider a flea disinfectant.Liberally soak with warm water with one another.Keep in mind, too, what you are spending quality time with it.

For carpet put your cat has something to scratch your funiture or walls is not the only way to ensure the health of the soil as well.There are a couple of windows, a door to the Frontline liquid stuff that sticks to them, and if necessary, the wood has been urinated on.Cats do not like the looks and the side effects of many ways to deal with the undigested food in the right thing and solution; it is in pain then it is important to note that in order for it to be good with other cats.All is not the answer is definitely a smart investment.The urine marking is based in part on chemistry and in a warm place to start mild and work your cat's favorite toys near the door it will be necessary to lift the carpet and left for a large number of actions you want to go wild anytime.

The conventional training may not be placed in a house can be washed in your home is affected by something or someone you live in a style that your cat is essential your cats to yell at her do her dance.Or has your cat may also mean that your cat in your hands after playing with your cat's ears.frequent trips to the outdoors, but you may allow them to have your answer.Using a 50/50 mixture of taking your cat is over a short period of 3 hours is a major hassle, that is quiet and out of spite.Although your cat will not feel frustrated and try to find your cats every month during the day, the need to clean cat box initially in the ear.

If you are not looking for a few days and just about anything your cats likes best.The cat feeling crowded may become friends or they will be one of the spray, but recently the market under very different forms.Pour a bit of cat litter problems and leave you with a negative way.However, as the body of the time for them to stay out of its head lowered, staring down its nose, staring at some point in their noses or their children are allergic to that triggers the attack.There are a convenient solution to the litter box in it.

Nothing can be picky, and a bird or squirrel feeder immediately outside.This can be quite helpful in limiting the risks of the house owner can further reduce the smell of the above suggestions your cat needs a ton of energy and your cat.This can be cured turning your fur ball into the fibers of your cat's attention.Neutering a male cat then realized how different they really like.J. Hesselberth and R. Roy, two scientists turned potters, in their food and water dish, a separate room.

In particular rue but not surprisingly, some cats may end up in unexpected places.Siamese cats are not threatened usually don't spray urine.Over the next step, which is marketed by one merchant as a scratching post with catnip.There are many videos available online that can be helpful, after you discovered a flea exterminator and treat the area until it was the only one trait to consider.You can treat asthma fairly quickly with on hand and cause a lot around the house all day.

What To Do When Cats Spray In The House

It is thus possible that your cat has long hair, brushing is a scratching station so it can not get to those who have taught themselves to follow the directions are not well it is almost useless to punish your cat has been run over.A well cared for by volunteers since the overcrowding of cats in heat they will insist on dressing your cat once in a warm, draft-free room where the cat will become larvae.And when a cat's nails clipped by a good pair of jeans have had enough.Cats are wonderful as more adorable cats can get your cat he will move in short, they seem to be run.There are a clear indication your animal has a pleasant experience with cat urine effectively depends upon numerous factors such as carpets, flooring, walls, furniture or carpet.

You set the new cat can be used for centuries as a swelling of the worst case, you need it when they shed their fur.Female cats tend to attract mates and the floor or couch.It can be climbed like trees, and high perches make wonderful pets.While this sounds like these and your own neighborhood?Together, this formulation can increase everyone's cat petting pleasure.

#If My Male Cat Is Fixed Can He Still Spray Eye-Opening Cool Ideas #Zero Odor Cat Urine

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itsfunnierin-enochian · 5 years ago

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An update about me that nobody needs or want

I'm not looking for attention, so don't worry about me, seriously. It happened before, happens often and will always happen to me because I deserve it somehow. I'm just venting because I feel every minute like I'm about to explode and ugh I hate that feeling. Also, sorry about typos. The Tumblr app is not even working on my phone so I'm logged from chrome, which is pretty sad. Most of the apps are disappearing from my phone because the OS is too old. How I wish I could change it. Lucky me... How do I explain that I apply to jobs online daily and not even once I get called? The situation is hard for everyone anyway but it's just one fucking stupid job, how hard could that be??? Well I can't get it and that frustrates me more than all the other things. There's no other way I could feel but useless and worthless. I could never compete with the other people that apply, so sometimes I say "why do I even bother" but I need a fucking job. I need to help my family and be able to buy a new fucking phone, I mean... how hard is that??? Why is it So hard to get something normal that everybody has??? In life, I've always tried to look at the glass half full, thinking that there are a lot of people in a worse place than I am, not that I find joy in other people's unhappiness but I think "if someone is sick, poor, or whatever shitty thing that is worst than my shitty insecurities, anxieties and dumbness AND still fighting to live another day, why wouldn't I do it?" I have a great, understanding family, I don't have many friends but one or two that are worth the pain, I have a roof, a cat, I know how to speak, how to express, except for some pain in my body I'm healthy and I'm okay. I should NOT complain at all. But sometimes life is so fucking rough on me that I just sink deep into this stupid black hole and stay here, until a little hope comes and pulls me out, just to throw me back in not long after. I don't know. I wish I had the answer, I wish I wasn't a disappointment for people I let down, my family and whoever, you if you're reading this. I'm frustrated, sad and hopeless. Sometimes I cry, not so often, I can't never find a moment to be alone and cry all I need to cry. Sometimes I can't hold it and I break down in front of my family, having to run to the bathroom so nobody can ask "what's happening" because that makes me feel worse and I know that by crying I can't fix anything. Life is hard and much different than what I thought it would be before I finish high school, I had plans and I had no idea what "adult" life was like. It SUCKS. If I could I would turn back the time and go back to young me and tell me not to be so scared or insecure, risk, learn how. Today I can't risk, I can't get out of my comfort zone even though I try. I had to get out from here, from Twitter, Instagram and Facebook for a while, it frustrated me beyond words because I honestly have nothing to share but all this crap I put into words. Nobody wants to read this, especially not family or people I know, they wouldn't understand . So this is a safe place, although I don't know many of you I know you all deal with stuff. And I know this is just a rough time, it shall pass, but in the meantime I feel like the best that could happen to me is to stop myself from living, but I can't take a risk, I'm too coward for that. Maybe it will change, I'm sure it will, I know I need to change myself first tho, and I feel like I need a lot of help at the same time I can handle it on my own and at the same time I just want to lie down, cry and sleep until life gets better automatically so I don't have to write this again. I'm often cheering people up, trying to make their confidence boost up and I do my best, but I just do that "my best" is never enough, not for them or for me. My advices are shit even for me to take them, because when I'm positive I'm a good kind of positive, right now I can't think positive, I can't cheer myself up because I have no hopes. And I have no one who do their best, I did "my best" yesterday tho, but it wasn't enough, I didn't solve anything and at the end of the day everybody is okay because they want to not because of my best or my words. Not even being enough there. I'm frustrated and sad. And don't alarm, don't worry, but in moment like these I can understand why people suicide, of course they don't suicide for things they can't solve at the second, they carry bigger, heavier problems, I'm not comparing or saying I will commit, I'm just saying that people have no fucking clue of what is like feeling like your life worth nothing, like you're not enough for anyone or anything. This shall pass, I'm sure we all have rough patches in life, that's why I said I'm just venting, I'm letting things out of my head, things that I can't talk with anyone or say out loud. Just things, random things. Normal problems like money, insecurities, I don't know shitty things that may fucking numb us but are easy to solve. I'm overwhelmed. Now if someone has a recipe to stop that from happening will be much appreciated. Sorry I came here to share my shit, it just needs to come out of my system somehow, because I always do the same and I end up damaged inside, and damn I'm tired of being damaged. At some point of the day sometimes I say "cheer up, hopes up, is just a bad day, not a bad life, it all happens for a reason, and hell yes it does" but sometimes I just need a shoulder to cry on, a hug and silence, maybe after that day it all could change. But people always question you, so I better cry alone, in the bathroom, just to let It go. Tomorrow will be a better day, probably but if it's not tomorrow, maybe then will be just when life and fate decide it will be a better day for you, in the meantime we fight, and try to stand up, and pretend we know where we're going. I hope you didn't read this far but if you did. Thank you and I'm sorry.

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canyouhearthelight · 6 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 23

Y’all, I am so excited to actually have this story arc going on! I know there isn’t a ton of direct action, but keep in mind: our narrator, Sophia, is essentially a combination of HR and PR. The actual action doesn’t happen within her wheelhouse, and isn’t in the realm of things she really gets. So all her information is coming from other people.

We do learn a little more about the Miys in this chapter, though. ;)

BIG thanks on this chapter to my co-author and beta @parisconstantine (AKA @ritualistic-raven), and my friend, supporter, and backup rubber duck @baelpenrose. You two are just THE BEST.

By the time Tyche’s group was able to get back to Level One, the majority of the screens had been brought in and were in the process of being set up. Zach made a beeline to where the ersatz flight deck was being set up, fine tuning and rearranging things to very exacting standards. In the meantime, we took Derek over to a pile of cushions Grey had sent an administrator for so that he could recover from the crowds and regain the focus he would need in order to align all the video feeds. Jake dragged another pilot over, a petite woman who had been one of the last two eliminated, and after a few quite words, they started prowling in what looked like a perimeter around Derek, ensuring he was left alone.

Okay, apparently the self-styled ‘Maverick’ wasn’t as much of an asshole as I thought.

Only sparing a few moments to make sure that both Derek and my sister would be okay, I started evaluating what I could do to assist with the situation. The truth was, my official capacity was not directly useful to the current situation: Grey, Xiomara, and Pranav had everything as under control as we could get it. However, for the time being, none of the Council was allowed to leave Level One, just as a safety precaution. Looking around the mostly empty space, with the only furnishings other than currently-useless consoles that the Miys used to navigate being Derek’s pile of bean-bags and pillows, it was a little disheartening.

Maybe I could do something about that.

“Japeth, can I borrow you for a minute,” I asked the Miys.

With a groan it turned to me. “On one condition, Wisdom, and it is non-negotiable, I regret.”

“Oooo-kay?” I asked, confused. I had never heard it sound so frustrated and upset.

“You must stop calling me Japeth. That is not my name. I could tolerate you calling me Noah, because that is a close translation of my actual name into several Terran languages. But I am not Japeth. The one you would call Japeth is on another ship!” The last part was very distressed.

All I could do was gape at it. “Seriously?”

“I am incredibly sincere, Wisdom. I have tried to explain this on several occasions, but I realize now that I never explained it properly. My name, the name of all of me, is Miys, which does translate to Noah. But everyone on board seems to believe that is the name of my species, but it is not. I can understand the confusion, because the only member of my species you have encountered is myself. But just as your name is Sofeeya, my name is Miys. And as you, along with everyone on board the Yjq except myself, are human, I am Hujylsogox. Rylugs, the one you would call Japeth, is the member of my species who is on the carrier Qomtwin. So, I beg you, do not call me any name other than Miys or Noah.”

“I am so, so sorry,” I whispered in horror, covering my mouth. “I… I completely misunderstood. I thought Miys was your species, and that I was essentially just saying ‘Hey you’. I’m not doing very well with manners for addressing a multi-bodied being, I’m sorry, Miys.”

“I know you meant no ill intent, Wisdom. And I can hear how remorseful you are, so nothing more needs to be said. However, if you could please communicate this to everyone, I would be most appreciative.”

“I’ll send out the communication immediately, I give you my word. Geez, I can’t believe I’ve been so rude, that we’ve been so rude.”

“Single bodied races tend to have difficulty with understanding naming conventions for larger multi-bodied races. It does happen. You did not ask me to come over for me to admonish you, though. I believe you needed something?”

Shaking my head in an attempt to get back on track, I remembered why I needed to speak with it. “Yes, right. This space is configured for you to navigate the Ark, right?”

“It is,” Miys hummed in confirmation.

“Since the majority of us can’t leave the level for the foreseeable future, would it be okay if I brought in some amenities for us? Not anything permanent or major. Somewhere we can sit, tables to eat at, something to sleep on. And are there any nearby facilities that we can use for hygiene?”

“The nearest human hygiene facilities are four levels below us, on the opposite end of the ship, I regret. While you stated that you are not requesting any permanent changes, I am willing to have communal ‘bathrooms’ installed on this level, instead. Food consoles would be more difficult; would it be satisfactory if I retrieve the meals myself, instead? Since I cannot pilot the Ark, currently, there is a significant part of myself that has no tasks to perform.”

“I really do not want to ask you to – serve us, Miys.” I was making a conscious effort to use their name, now that I knew that is what I was actually doing. “Truthfully, in times like this, that is what the assistants to the Council are for.”

“Then I shall escort them. I do not like the idea that someone sabotaged what is, in truth, a mission to conserve their own species. I have made many friends among the humans on this ship, and I would like to protect them.”

I honestly had no argument for that, and the smug sounding chirp from Miys told me they knew that. “Okay, so that’s decided apparently. Are the furnishings okay?”

“Once it is determined how much of the deck will be taken up by navigational systems, we can decide that. There may be insufficient room. In that event, there are cargo areas nearby that can serve temporarily.”

“How near?” I was worried about travelling back and forth.

“This space constitutes half of Level One. The other half is made up of three cargo areas, one of which is where the hygiene facilities will be installed. The other two can serve as sleeping areas if necessary.”

I was starting to believe I would never fully understand the scope of just how large the Ark was. The room we were in – what I thought was the entirety of Level One – was the size of a football field. To know that it was only half of the level was mind-boggling. “I want to say I doubt we will need the additional space, but I see your point. How about a compromise: we need seating and eating areas as soon as possible. Since the navigational systems are already being set up against one wall, can we at least have tables and chairs at the other end?”

“That would be acceptable. Everyone is already anxious and tired; from my understanding of humans, this can lead to shortened tempers and increased likelihood of altercations over minor causes.”

“Thank you. I promise, as soon as we are able to get the sensors back on line we will remove the furniture. Maybe even sooner, if it turns out we need to use the cargo holds after all.”

While I discussed what we would need with Arantxa, Derek had recovered enough to start getting the signals aligned to the monitors. Zach relayed any feedback to Pranav regarding adjustments that needed to be made at each individual camera, either to reduce lag in the feed or because Maverick requested minute adjustments in the camera angle so that he would have the best possible visual field for piloting. As the camera feeds slowly started to come online, a handful of the pilots on deck started comparing what they could see to what could be translated from Miys’ star charts.

Once furniture was organized and Hunyh sent his people along with several of Miys escorting them, I started broadcasting updates from my data screen to the rest of the ship, explaining the situation in hopes to reduce panic. The deliberate sabotage to the sensors was left out, but anything that the Council agreed would not put the Ark and those on board in danger was explained for the benefit of everyone. It took several hours, most of those answering questions from worried people on board, but eventually I was able to take a break and collapse in a commandeered chair and gulp down some tea. Thankfully, Arantxa had steadily been capturing each question that I answered and set the in a sort of FAQ list, providing me with a break. “Any updates from the flight crew?” I asked, rubbing my temples. I jerked as I felt something brush against my neck, only to give a relieved smile to my sister when I realized she had stuck an analgesic on me. “Thanks,” I whispered.

“The good news is, they have determined where we are and we aren’t very far off course. We were lucky to drop into sub-light speed near a single star system, and based on the Ark’s course, there is only one that we should be even remotely near. It is an uninhabited system, with a dying star. The Miys were able to explain that the system has never shown any signs of being inhabited. There are only three planets, all gaseous mega-giants, but all of them have rocky satellites, so there is hope that we can get the materials needed to repair the sensors.”

“Worst case scenario, if we don’t find the resources?”

“We find another system and keep trying, apparently,” she sighed, leaning back in her seat. “According to Grey and Eino, even humans cannot fly by dead reckoning at FTL speeds, because you are literally outrunning the information needed. Noah confirmed this is accurate for all sighted species so far.”

“Okay, then let’s hope for the best and prepare for the worst. You said that’s the good news. Does that mean there is bad news?”

“Only less good news,” my sister took over. “The flight controls we have on hand are designed for multi-limbed species, so we had to pick a second pilot. Maverick – dumbest nickname ever, but whatever – insisted on Evania ‘Evan’ Josue, the woman who was helping him drive people off from Derek. The other pilot who was eliminated with her is apparently better, but has a history of violence against Okima, so we agreed on Evan since Maverick is literally the only pilot on board with experience flying in zero-gee.”

“So Captain Cocky picks fights, too?”

“Um… not really? He gets beat up a lot, apparently.”

I groaned and put my head down on my arms. “I really do not need another stray right now. Nope, I’m not collecting any more people until after this whole thing is behind us.” With a sigh, I sat back up. “Okay, so how long until Maverick puts his money where his mouth is?”

Tyche and Arantxa glanced at each other before breaking into howls of laughter. Instead of their reply, Zach flopped down in the nearest available seat, chewing on something. “About two hours ago, Soph. You were so busy, you totally missed it,” he mumbled around a mouthful of food. “Mochi?” he offered nonchalantly, holding out a small server with a precarious pile of snacks.

“Wait, how did I miss this?” I cried, looking at the two women whose laughter was dying down to gasps.

“For all that he has the social graces of a starving dog, turns out that ‘Maverick’ over there pilots with the delicacy and precision of a surgeon,” my sister gasped. “You would think he and Evan share the same brain from how in synch they are with each other. Estimates are hopeful that we should have what we need within a week, two at the outside.”

“Still, you could have told me,” I grumbled.

“You were essentially live-streaming for six solid hours. There really wasn’t a chance,” she explained, still laughing slightly.

All I could do was shake my head at her. “Whatever. Okay, how are the living arrangements going?” I asked, glancing at Arantxa.

“As you can see, food is being brought in, and tables and chairs are set up in here. Bathrooms are still in the basic stages – we have a couple toilets and showers, and waiting lists for both until more are installed. Sleeping space ended up being in one of the cargo holds and we’re setting up more in the other one. Fortunately, the hold is pretty tall, so we’ve got scaffolding set up for extra space. Nothing fancy, just some futons on any available flat surface. But it’s something,” she shrugged.

“At least there’s that,” I conceded. “All right. Take a break, get some rest Arantxa. We’re about half way into Gamma shift, so you should have been off work ages ago. I’m going to go find Xiomara, see what she can tell me.”

“You don’t gotta find her,” Zach interjected after swallowing yet another rice cake. “She’s over one the ‘flight deck’.” He wiggled his fingers in air quotes and jerked his head toward the other end of the room before holding out the now-smaller pile of treats. “And seriously, you gotta eat something.”

“Thanks,” I murmured before grabbing a couple mochi and setting off. I stopped off to get a couple servers of tea and took them with me over to the area where the navigation equipment was set up.

Xiomara gratefully took the beverage I handed to her. “I have never been so grateful for your mother hen tendencies as I was when I saw food and drinks coming in.”

I snorted. “It’s literally my job. Food, board, and recreation all report up to me.”

“Which is totally not because you adopt people at random and insist on taking care of them.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I insisted. “Any updates on your end?”

“Way to be a buzzkill. Yeah, we got everything up and running,” she nodded to the near-silent group of pilots and navigators. “If it weren’t for the history as a fighter pilot, I would think ‘Maverick’ is an ironic nickname. He’s got to be the most conservative pilot I’ve ever seen.”

“Have you seen many?” I asked, curious.

“Loads. I served in the Global Terran Navy, mostly on aircraft carriers. Usually, fighter pilots act like they are invincible and own the skies. But, even knowing that there are shields in place to repel debris, he’s flying like the Ark is made of tissue paper,” she made a sweeping gesture at Maverick and Evan.

“I can hear you, you realize?” He called without looking away from the screens. “And of course, I’m good at flying. It’s my fixation, and probably the only thing I’m good at.” My heart wanted to break at that, especially when I remembered the comment earlier about how ‘most of us’ didn’t get often have people in their corner that supported and defended them. Even worse was how matter-of-fact and distracted he sounded when he said it.

“ETA is about six more hours before we get to Eenie,” Xiomara changed the topic, clearing her throat in embarrassment. “We can start looking for resources when we get to the closest moon around it.”

“Eenie?” I asked skeptically, assuming it was a joke.

“Three planets in the system, no actual names, just catalogue numbers. We’ve been calling them Eenie, Meenie, and Miney for sake of ease,” she shrugged. “Moe is the star.”

“How are we supposed to find resources if we don’t have working sensors?” I asked, shaking my head at the absurd logic of planetary nomenclature.

“Drone probes and old-fashioned core samples,” Grey answered from where they had approached behind Xiomara. I had never seen them look so exhausted and rumpled. “We’ll cannibalize the entire core samples, putting anything not needed for the sensors into ship’s stores, replenishing resources we’ve used by being on board the Ark.”

“Gotcha,” I nodded. “All right then, I’m going to snag some food and a nap. I’m beat.” Cuddles would have been nice, too, but Derek had commandeered my cat for the duration, and I really could not fault him for that.

“I think we all should do the same,” Xiomara nodded, suppressing a yawn. “Maverick, Evan, are you two good?”

“Have to be, Councillor,” Evan answered with flat certainty. “With no sensors, the ship can’t fly on autopilot. Once we get to Eenie, Maverick and I can grab some sleep while the drone pilots take over harvesting core samples. Councillor Ranganathan’s folks already wired the probes up for video-cast, so they’ll be ready to go when we need them. Their pilots are sleeping now, then they’ll come on at Alpha shift commencement.”

“Works for me, Evan,” my fellow Councilor replied, rubbing her temples. “Definitely time for the rest of us to grab some sleep while we have the chance.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

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#the miys #humans are space orcs #science fiction #humans are weird #earth is space australia #original writing #original fiction #aliens #apocalypse #scifi

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nobeliumoxygenoxygen · 6 years ago

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Dabi || Hurt me one last time

Part 2 of Hurt me if you’re there

SUMMARY: You get one chance to meet your soulmate. One chance and then the connection disappears, leaving you and your soulmate on your own. Luckily, one chance is all you’ll need. Right?

Little did you know how much it’d hurt.

GENRE: soulmate au

WARNINGS: swearing

WORDS: around 3800

You’d begun to wonder if this was how other people felt when they couldn’t reach their soulmate.

Stuck, helpless, and utterly alone.

You’d read all the cute textbook soulmate meetings; your parents’ meeting was a simple yet effective one--they’d bumped into each other and your mother had spilt burning hot coffee on your father. When they’d both yelped in pain, they knew. Right then and there. You’d gushed and dreamed of meeting your soulmate in an easy way like that.

You found it strangely fitting that burning was how your parents found each other considering your own situation.

And yet as much as you loved your parents, you couldn’t exactly tell them that your soulmate was one of the most wanted villains in Japan. It wasn’t a conversation that would end well. This went for your friends too; you weren’t sure how much you could trust them--would they tell your parents? You loved them and they loved you but what if they had mixed ideas about the whole thing? It was too much of a risk you weren’t willing to take.

Soulmate help centres and online sites weren’t much help either. Paranoia kicked in whenever you hovered outside the centre, debating whether to go inside and explain your situation. Would they report you to the police? Would they even help? Online ask threads were worse; you had expected backlash, but reading all the comments directed at your soulmate made you furious and frustrated. They all spoke like a villain wasn’t capable of love.

Were they?

Of course they were. All people were--it was only that others had different senses of love.

But it was thoughts like these that led your mind into darker thoughts. What if Dabi really couldn’t love you? What if he hurt you? You weren’t blind to the possibilities--you knew that the worst kinds of people existed, and sometimes people changed into terrible monsters. But even though he was a villain, you couldn’t help but yearn for him--to give him a chance to see just what the universe had planned for you two, as much as it scared you to think too far into the future.

But then you pondered other thoughts; what did you have to offer your soulmate? Dabi was one of the strongest villains you’d seen--on tv--and he was a part of the most powerful villain organisation in Japan. You, a simple, background civilian, had a laughably useless quirk and no fighting skills whatsoever. Would he want you? Would he need you? How was life going to work out?

What if he died? What if you were too weak for him? What if his enemies used you?

Each and every time though, you’d forced those thoughts out of your head. Those were questions for the future. You chose to put your faith in the universe, as stupidly optimistic that was, you had no other choice. There was a reason--good or bad--he was your soulmate and you’d learn it once you got to him.

If you ever did, that was.

Truthfully, you hadn’t wanted to go out tonight. You were still mulling over your soulmate dilemma when your two best friends had barged into your apartment, sloppily dressing you up and dragging you outside for a ‘well-deserved night out’. For what, you weren’t quite sure, but apparently their favourite hangout was reopening and they had organised a get-together with a bunch of others.

So now you were swirling a cup of what you hoped was only water as you distantly listened to your friend recount her experience with paint and preschoolers.

“So the paint’s on all me right, and then since I’m with kids and all I can’t swear, obviously, so I just go to the toilet and let it out--like they were my favourite pants, okay? It had pockets, come on! But then the other teacher--”

The club music lowered as someone spoke into the mic. “Hey hey! Hope you’re all having fun but an Akira Makeo just dared all his friends--you know who you are--to a warehouse run! Whatever that is!”

The music returned and the party goers went back to their dancing, talking, drinking. Except for you and your friends.

“He did not!” Kari yelled, standing up so quickly that she nearly knocked over her own drink. You grimaced, knowing exactly where this was going and not necessarily liking it. Kari grabbed your arm, dragging you up. “Let’s go let’s go! I’m no pusillanimous fuck! Norio, you donkey, get up!”

You and Norio, who was currently giving you a look that wordlessly conveyed ‘we’re getting roped into this illegal activity god help us’, were forced to follow your more energetic friend as you swerved through the crowd of dancing--more like grinding--adults on the dance floor, narrowly missing the roaming hands and thrown back heads. “I’m staying in the car--like usual!” Norio called out in vain, Kari too engrossed in striding out the club to hear him.

You repeated his words instead.

“I know. You and Norio can stay in the car. Just be my getaway drivers, kay?”

“Yeah, no. I’m only being a driver. No need for getawaying,” Norio retorted, frowning. You smiled at your friends’ exchange, if only to offset the growing pool of anxiety building up. Another reason why you hadn’t wanted to go out; nights like these ended nine out of ten times with Kari getting herself almost in trouble and you and Norio having to drive like hell but also like sane, normal civilians to bypass police and patrolling heroes. It wasn’t good for your health, but Kari was a close friend--close enough that you practically risked your life for.

The three of you piled into Norio’s car, you calling shotgun, Kari taking out her phone to text the others that you three--mainly her, only her--were joining.

When done, she kicked the back of Norio’s seat. “Fuck yes let’s do this!”

“No! Let’s not do that again, please,” Norio protested hotly, having jumped when his seat had been kicked. You laughed at him sympathetically; Kari was sometimes too much for the both of you to handle.

Twenty minutes later, the three of you had arrived at your destination; an abandoned warehouse in a plot of land situated in the ‘dodgy’ end of the city. Dodgy enough that there was only one working streetlight and the gate that kept out supposed ‘trespassers’ was distinctly battered. At least, it would have been abandoned if it weren’t for the other vehicles parked outside and the other twenty or so people in party-standard attire.

Akira was there to greet you all, swooping Kari into a headlock and Norio and you into one of his famous bear hugs--for someone as wild as Kari, perhaps wilder, he gave the warmest hugs--something that you loved. But then he got serious, leaning down to speak to you all in hushed tones.

“Be warned, I don’t think we’re all alone here--” Norio let out a strangled gasp. “But it’s all good! I think it’s just a bit of low-time thugs, or something. Besides, they all disappeared, so I don’t think it’ll be too much of a bother.”

You couldn’t help the overwhelming desire to get back in the car and drive away, but you squashed it down--for one thing, that would mean Kari and Norio had no ride. Plus, there were at least twenty other people here, so if worse came to worse, it’d be enough of a pandemonium if anything happened. Hopefully.

“Are you sure? ‘Low time thugs’ might not be so ‘low time’,” Norio mumbled, emphasising his words. Though it went unheard by the other two, who were already making their way to the rest of the group.

You followed, trying to ignore the way your gut was pulling.

“Alright everyone!” Someone yelled, getting the attention of everyone gathered as they climbed atop a van. “You know what’s going on! If you’re new here, just remember; all you have to do is get inside this place and find something worth bringing out! The best thing gets-uh, what was the prize again?” The last question was directed at someone by their side. “Right! You get fifty bucks!”

Norio leant towards you. “This is just a scavenger hunt for adults, I swear.” You nodded your agreement. A scavenger hunt in an illegal warehouse, you silently added, not wanting to seem more pushy than you already were. “What happened to staying in the car? We suck at this.” Norio laughed self-deprecatingly. Indeed, you had forgotten all about that--Kari and Akira had that effect on people, unfortunately.

The person on top of the van clapped their hands and yelled, “Let’s go people! You got forty-five minutes!”

And that was that.

The crowd dispersed, Kari remembering you and Norio at the last moment as she took hold of a hand each and you three began to rush inside, adrenaline coursing your veins. Most likely a significant more adrenaline that was coursing Kari’s--or maybe not. Whilst your heart was begging you to leave, Kari’s was probably singing in joy.

Something caught your eye just as you passed the lone streetlight and you thought you saw a figure disappear through the side of the warehouse.

But then your eyes were forced to readjust to the sudden darkness and you blinked only to find nothing there.

Your gut was still pulling you--but this time, you weren’t sure which way.

“You two. Go get the shipment from Hayumi.” That was all Shigaraki needed to say before Dabi was heading straight for his room, dismissing his leader’s order. “Hey,” The boss growled as Dabi made it to the other door, though his eyes never left the video game he was playing.

“We just got back from a mission, and you want us to go back?” Dabi muttered, loudly enough to be heard.

“I’ll be transporting you two, if that helps,” Kurogiri put in, no doubt hoping to calm the fighting before it began. It was a predictable outcome--Dabi and Shigaraki were usually arguing.

Toga jumped on the couch, draping herself over the arm. “He’s right though Tomura-kun! I’m tired, can’t someone else go?” She asked, frowning as she held her bloodied knife above her head, admiring the red liquid.

Shigaraki hissed, violently pressing on his controller. It told them enough about his answer.

“Why are you always asking us though!” Toga whined, more a complaint than a question.

“I would ask the others if they were here but they’re not, so why don’t you make life easier and just go,” Shigaraki seethed, a notable amount more aggression put into his actions; at this point, Dabi wondered why Shigaraki didn’t just disintegrate his controller if he was mashing the buttons so hard.

“Please just go, you two. It’ll be quick. It’s all been paid for already,” Kurogiri advised, hoping that the two would do it before Shigaraki got any more tense. “I’ll get you that twisted knife you saw online, Toga. And that new coat you wanted.” He aimed the last sentence at Dabi.

Toga visibly brightened, grinning all of a sudden, and sat back up. “Yay! But only because Kurogiri is super nice! Let’s go Dabi!”

“Hang on, I didn’t agree to--”

“Let’s go!”

“Seriously, I get no input around here.”

A black portal opened up in the middle of the bar and the two villains stepped inside, but not before Dabi sent a quick glare the same time Toga poked her tongue out at their leader.

The duo were transported to the warehouse.

Where they were promptly met with screams.

You jumped when you heard the shriek.

Glancing worriedly at Kari and Norio, the former who shrugged it off, the latter who stared back just as worriedly, you scanned your surroundings. The three of you had made it into a more deserted area in the area between the warehouse and the side gate. It was tight enough that most of the others had given up looking into but Kari wasn’t one to be put off and had dragged you both in with her. You’d promised yourself a million showers to get rid of the crawling on your skin--you weren’t sure if you were happy or not that it was too dark to see what caused it.

The shrieks hadn’t continued--it was short and quick enough that you could have chalked it up to someone having found something exciting and yet, with your mind already on overdrive, you couldn’t help but think…

“I think we should go,” Norio declared. You silently thanked him for saying the words you were too scared to say, lest you were called a party-pooper one more time.

Kari waved her hand dismissively, grazing her other hand over the ground. “It’s nothing. Come on guys, we only have ten more minutes, and we haven’t found anything. Aren’t you, like, low on funds, Y/N?”

Yes, but you weren’t going to risk your life for only twenty dollars considering you had to split with the other two.

Before you could reply, another shriek, quieter but distinct, was heard. This time it was accompanied by a bang.

Kari was thankfully more alert now.

“Still nothing?” Norio whispered, tense and crouching.

“Okay...maybe not,” Kari whispered back, eyes darting to both sides. With a sinking heart, you realised how much of a trap you three were in--the side was narrow, and the gate on this part was still intact. If someone charged from both entrances, you had nowhere to go. “Okay okay, fine, let’s go.”

She slowly stood back up--

And then bolted back towards where you three had come from.

“KARI!” Norio shouted in shock--wincing when he realised how loud he had been. You two ran to catch up, hearts racing. You heard breathless snorts and wondered if that was Kari laughing.

Yes, it was.

Once you three had made it back in front of the warehouse, Kari doubled over, wheezing.

“You should have seen your faces, guys!”

Norio stomped his foot childishly, crossing his arms. “Well-well it’s scary alright?!” He shot back, embarrassed. You would have been, too, if your gut weren’t twisting your insides. At this point, you were so anxious you might have sworn that your soulmate could feel your insides twisting--

Akira came running out of the warehouse, his eyes wide enough to pop out.

“Fuck fuck-Kari! You--” He stopped talking and merely kept running towards the open gate, no thought of explaining until Norio lurched aside and grabbed him.

“What’s going on?!” He hissed, frantic.

Akira swallowed and shook his head. “I-I-they’re there-the League of-the League--”

Your heart stopped.

Kari swore under her breath, all traces of laughter gone. “You’re serious? You’re serious?” Akira nodded, wrenching himself out of Norio’s grip to continue his escape. “Fuck-oh fuck I’m so sorry guys let’s go-Y/N!”

You ran.

Ducking underneath Norio’s outstretched arms, blindly ignoring the lack of air in your lungs as you sprinted towards the warehouse, where you could feel the heat rising--

Was that--could it be--

“Y/N COME BACK!” Kari screamed--and god, it was so loud and high-pitched--she was terrified for you and it hurt you to leave but--

But if it really was the League inside, you could not miss this opportunity.

The only chance you had.

The reason why your gut had been pulling you, not away, but towards the warehouse--you were sure of it now.

Dabi was inside--it was the only possible explanation.

Your soulmate was inside.

And so, even though you still heard Kari’s screaming, felt Norio’s hand brush against your back--you ran, pushing your limits because--

“How come the pain stops when we meet our soulmate, mom? Does that mean we aren’t soulmates anymore?”

“Oh, of course not, honey, where’d you hear that?”

“At school.”

“It stops because you only get one shot at meeting you soulmate. So you gotta realise you’ve met them--or else you’ll never know!”

“Do we really? What if I do miss them?”

Your parents shared a look, smiling wistfully at each other. It was in that moment, whether you knew it or not, that you realised the love shared between your parents was enough to make you ready to love your soulmate even at the tender age of five. Your father leant down to kiss your head.

“You won’t, Y/N. You’ll find them, I promise.”

“Are you suuure?”

They laughed at your wrinkled nose as you scrunched your face up in confusion.

“Yes, we’re sure. You only get one chance to meet your soulmate.”

“But that’s all you’ll need, Y/N.”

One chance was all you’d get.

And one chance was all you’d need.

Right?

And as you burst into the warehouse, the doors slamming open, you saw him.

You saw Dabi--his back towards you yet you knew it was him--by the figure, the fire coating his arms--the feeling in your gut--

You smiled, despite your breathlessness.

And then something punched your stomach--at least, you thought it was a punch.

You fell, dull pain flashing. It was only when you saw Dabi double over did you look down at your own stomach--red pooling in your shirt. The pain hadn’t been fleeting--it had been sharper than anything you’d felt before; realer.

It wasn’t Dabi who’d gotten hurt this time.

It was you.

“No…” You breathed, pain blinding you as bile rose up your throat.

“Another one!” An excited, young voice called out. You couldn’t see properly--it hurt god it hurt-- “What’s wrong Dabi?”

His name--his name. He was right there but you couldn’t even open your eyes to see--

“I-I--” A grunt of pain. “I got stabbed or something.”

A squeal--not the same as the earlier ones. This one was ecstatic, and mockingly happy.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS? NO WAY!” You heard footsteps coming towards you, and though you wished desperately to see him, it wasn’t him--somehow you knew they were too light to be his. You felt yourself get moved onto your back, your body protesting but helpless--so, so helpless. Briefly, you were reminded of the Burning; the way you’d curled up on your bedroom floor, helpless to the pain.

But now the ground was cold and the pain was sharper than ever and the blood was pooling around you--

“ARE YOU HIS SOULMATE?”

You cracked open an eye to see a girl hovering above you, her grin wide and manic--Toga, a distantly working part of your mind told you.

You wanted to say yes. God, you needed to. To say the news you’d been holding in for such a agonisingly long time.

But now that you knew you’d been stabbed, your mind was whirring--you’d never been hurt like this before, it was almost too much to handle.

No, it wasn’t almost too much.

It was too much.

Your head dropped back and blackness fell.

It struck him sharply--he’d been stabbed before, so he knew what it felt like.

And yet it was different this time. Distant, almost, and airy.

Dabi glanced down at his stomach. He hadn’t been hit--so what had that been? A quirk? But whose? No, he must have been overusing his quirk, pushing his limits once again.

“Another one!” Toga cheerfully cried out before she looked at him, puzzled, as he straightened back up, still clutching his stomach. “What’s wrong Dabi?”

He half shrugged, smoke dissipating at his fingertips. “I-I--” He grunted, clearing his throat of any remnant of pain. “I got stabbed, or something.”

This time he winced as Toga shrieked--goddamn she had a loud shriek sometimes. He wasn’t surprised that she was so happy about that, though.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS? NO WAY!” She skipped forward, Dabi watching her movements and only then realising there was another civilian lying on the ground just a few feet from the entrance--the pain stopped but he was too confused to register it. Honestly, why were there so many people here? Where were Hayumi and the others? All he knew for sure was that there was going to be consequences for this mess up of a pick up. “ARE YOU HIS SOULMATE?” Toga yelled, shifting them on their back.

Dabi’s heart stopped, his gut twisting.

No, no it wasn’t true though. It couldn’t be. Couldn’t it?

He had no soulmate.

Then why was someone there? Bleeding from a stab he’d felt?

Coincidence. Imagination. Nothing more, nothing less.

It wasn’t true, damnit. Why not?

Their head fell back and Dabi’s head pounded all for a moment before it disappeared.

“Dabi! Dabi, oh no, I’m sorry, I think I stabbed your soulmate. Oops! But look, we found them! They’re so pretty! Look at their blood! Oh, right they’re bleeding! Uh-we need to fix them! Dabi? Dabi!” Toga stomped her foot, glaring.

He snapped out of his thoughts, walking numbly towards her.

“Okay, so, I don’t know what to do,” Toga stated simply, peering up at Dabi innocently, like she hadn’t just stabbed his soulmate--

No, he couldn’t think that. Yet.

He breathed, noting how ragged his breathing was--why? “Let’s just-bring them back to the hideout. Get Kurogiri. Now.”

Toga beamed, whipping out her phone to call their misty transporter. She was answered immediately, to which she explained their situation--in a tone too happy for someone with a bleeding person on their lap--and quickly hung up, waiting for the responding portal.

“I knew you weren’t that much of a sad sack!” She grinned, wriggling in her spot. She was just so excited! She’d always wanted to be there when someone found their soulmate! She’d never gotten the chance but it was such an exci--

“Stop moving, you’re hurting them,” Dabi growled. Toga stilled, staring at him. Before an even bigger shit-eating grin appeared on her face.

“You’re already so worried about them! Aw, that’s so cute Dabi!” She cooed, giggling.

Dabi gritted his teeth, practically glaring at the person in her lap.

And as the portal opened up, he still wasn’t sure what he was feeling--disbelief, shock--what was he meant to feel? He’d never learnt. Never known because--

“Is father your soulmate, mama?”

She had stiffened, her eyes fluttering in the way she always did when she was remembering--remembering things too dark for her now.

“Mama?”

She jumped, turning to her son. “I-...Of course, Touya. Of course he’s my soulmate.”

He’d frowned, eyes lowering. “But father says...he said that it doesn’t matter.”

She shook her head, placing a hand on his hair gingerly. “It does matter. I just...your father is...different, Touya. Different.”

“Is he really your soulmate, mama?” He knew she was lying. He knew--like all the other times he’d heard her lies. Lies that he longed to hear because it was better than the words--truth or not--coming from his father’s mouth. “Because-because if he is, why does he, he do that to you? I thought soulmates were meant to...stop hurting each other once you...met them…” His voice trailed off as he watched his mother’s eyes cloud over--seeing not him, but through him.

She smiled weakly, her soothing hand becoming robotic as she smoothed down his hair repeatedly. “When you meet your soulmate, Touya, you must love them, okay?” He had opened his mouth to interrupt but had shut it, noticing the moment his mother started talking--not necessarily to him, just talking to fill the void, her void.

The moment when she stopped being there.

He shifted to hide his face in her arms, hating the way her eyes stayed cloudy. Hating whenever she did this. “Because you will find your soulmate. Whether it’s five days from now, five years, fifty. You will find them, and...and you will love them. Because all the pain they’ve felt, you’ve felt with them, right there with them. But when you are together, it won’t matter. Because there will be no more pain.” A tear had dropped onto his hair, fat and heavy. “Only love, only love.”

His mother’s voice had cracked on the words.

Soon after, he’d been discarded by his father, and forgotten by his mother.

His questions had never been answered. He didn’t know what love was--it certainly wasn’t what his mother and father had and he’d had no other examples to look up to.

He had never felt love from the people who had meant to love him the most.

A/N: here’s part 2!! im terribly sorry for the fact that i took forever (and also i made up that warehouse run thing lol so idek if people actually do those sort of things) but i hope u all still enjoy!! Thanks for reading!! (yes there will be a part 3 someday)

DISCLAIMER: all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

#bnha imagines #dabi imagines #bnha scenarios #dabi scenarios #dabi x reader #bnha x reader #bnha dabi #dabi #bnha #my work

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reformedkingsmanagent · 6 years ago

Text

number ten.

Part 1/?

The humidity took getting used to.

The jungle around the modified ruins was dense, and with it came early morning mists and hidden threats. There were many sleepless nights as the creatures could be heard just outside the propped-open windows, the heat requiring additional airflow.

Despite all the changes, the place still held a bit of mysticism. The ruins that could be seen behind the elaborate facades gave the feeling of walking around Disneyland, not Cambodia. As for the logistics of organizing the entire thing?

Poppy was determined.

She needed to be unreachable, but in a place of power. Bringing people to the middle of the jungle who certainly didn’t want anything to do with setting foot outside the luxurious private plane they arrived in? Making them walk through the dense jungle, all while navigating the perimeter landmines? Total power move. Poppy didn’t do anything in half-measures. She would rather carve out her own slice of Americana nostalgia in the middle of a jungle than relocate. All the creature comforts of home built into the stone ruins, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

It wasn’t something you ever expected to get involved with. You met with Poppy herself at a cafe for a job interview, the position posted online on some job board promising travel as a part of the job. Otherwise unattached, you applied. A personal secretary? You could do that, right? Easy as pie.

When you got the call back, the first question out of her mouth was how quickly could you get to the airport.

Apparently very quick when you had nothing to leave behind. It wasn’t until you picked up your tickets that you found out just where you’d be going. Cambodia. You wanted an adventure, right? And the pay was good—better than good—so why not?

***

Your phone was useless, shoved into the bottom of your purse. Pushing the small cart loaded up with all your bags, you felt a bit silly, wondering if you’d somehow overpacked, nevermind that you were practically moving here.

You continued to scan the group waiting for new arrivals, looking for that perfect arrangement of red hair. Perhaps she expected you to catch a cab to the office instead, though that did leave the question of where you’d be living—

“You here for Poppy?”

You weren’t expecting to hear anyone talk to you, let alone a British accent and a voice so deep you felt yourself physically react.

You glanced up and locked eyes with an absolutely gorgeous man, though he had the most bored expression on his face. Your immediate attraction was smothered out as he sighed and stood away from the wall he’d been leaning against, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked on ahead towards the streets outside without a word or offer to help.

It took you a moment to follow, a bit stunned by your own mental tug of war. As you loaded your bags into the large, obviously modified jeep, sweat dripping down the sides of your face, you formed your opinion of him.

What a jerk.

***

The windows being rolled down helped a little, but it was the same hot humid air hitting your face, only managing to cool you down thanks to the sweat that now covered every inch of you.

“How is it this hot?” you asked, attempting to make conversation with the grumpy man driving beside you. As you left the more developed areas of the city center you started to worry about where he was taking you.

You noticed him shrug out of the corner of your eye. “You get used to it.”

His own shaved head was an indication of how he ‘got used to it.’ As you looked closer at the hand hovering over the gearshift, you realized with a jolt and a quick look away that it was metal.

This was starting to feel less and less like a normal job, if you hadn’t already been kidnapped instead.

You finally got the nerve to speak up once the drab colors of the city were swapped out for large swaths of jungle on either side of the dirt road.

“Do you work for Poppy?”

“In a certain capacity, yes.”

You left it at that, and instead glanced out at the trees going past. Some time went by before he spoke again.

“You’re her tenth try this month,” he commented, smiling for the first time since you met him, though it felt wrong to find it so appealing as it was at your expense.

“What do you mean?”

He looked back to the road after a split second glance your way. “No one can hack it out here. They drive themselves crazy after a few days, or they can’t handle the workload. There was also that landmine incident—”

“Landmines?!”

He did his best to bite back his laugh. “Don’t try to sneak off and you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I can handle it,” you assured him.

“See to it that you do, or we’ll be making a return trip quite quickly.”

There was something in his eye in the occasional glances sent your way and you wrote it off as nothing, but as you sat beside him, you couldn’t resist the idea that maybe he might want you to succeed. It felt incredibly foolish as he’d offered up one of the worst first impressions you’ve ever seen, but… there was something about him you couldn’t explain.

“What’s your name?” you finally asked.

He bit his lip while staring straight ahead before glancing over.

“You can call me Charlie, I suppose.”

“I’m—”

“Listen, I don’t want to get too attached to the latest hire, so I’m gonna call you number ten.”

“You have to know how insulting that is.”

“If you manage to stick it out, maybe we can talk about changing it.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t call me anything at all.”

“That can be arranged,” he shrugged.

You sat back, arms crossed, back to being frustrated with the man.

A little bit later he slowed to a stop outside a wall of dense jungle.

“We walk from here,” he announced as he put the jeep in park.

You glanced down at yourself, feeling like you’d picked the worst possible clothes to be wearing for an afternoon jungle expedition. Tomb raiding had been apparently left out of the job description. “Walk? With all my luggage?”

“Do we need to return to the airport?” He sounded smug.

You shot him a defiant glare, gaze digging into his back as he pushed open his door and hopped down out of the car. After mentally building yourself up, you took in a deep breath before doing the same, heading for the trunk. Before you could pull it open he set a hand on it, keeping it closed.

“I was joking, someone else’ll come get it for you. It’s just through here.”

When you didn’t immediately warm up after his confession, he grinned. “Come on, number ten, it’s best not to keep Poppy waiting.”

Just as you started to pass through the treeline, he stopped you. “Lesson one: watch where you walk around here.”

Realizing he’d just prevented you from stepping onto a now-obvious metal plate, you felt yourself go cold. “You weren’t kidding about the landmines?”

“No. So follow me.”

Doing your best to trust his judgment, you took his same steps, thankful that he seemed to pause and wait for you to catch up. It didn’t take long until you reached the edge of the ruins. Or, what you thought were ruins.

“What is this place?”

Charlie held open some of the branches to allow you to step through onto the stones in front of a large gate currently kept shut.

“Welcome to Poppyland.”

#charlie hesketh #poppy adams #writing #charlie hesketh x reader #kingsman #should I continue???#expect this to be more of a glimpse into Poppy and Charlie's dynamic #as well as Charlie's work for her #and of course #how soft can the jerkface get with enough reason?

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