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your-dose-of-obidala · 2 years ago

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Your dose of Obidala - The hut

I have no clue where this came from. It's a first part, I guess. Maybe there'll be more. Who knows with my muse? Not me, certainly. Tell me what you think...

tw: angst, post-partum depression, hurt/comfort

They live in a hut.

In the first year, the walls of the hut are brown. The walls are rough and she pulls a face whenever she touches them accidentally. The hut is made of some type of clay, Obi-Wan explains but she turns away, dismissing the information outwardly.

She still doesn't talk to him if she doesn't have to.

He endures it with soft features, not a hint of bitterness around his mouth.

Not like she who lives on bitterness likes its sustenance.

The hut is not only brown and ugly and dark, it's also small.

It's smaller than any housing she ever lived in. The whole thing might fit in her childhood bedroom. It's too small for two adults and two babies.

Every time the twins wake her, he wakes too.

And without fail, he takes one, while she takes the other. She doesn't ask, she doesn't have to. They don't talk in the middle of the night. (They also don't talk during the day.)

Dusk is cold and clammy here and she hates it more than the days.

Because at night they have never enough blankets and she is always cold. They always sleep near each other out of necessity, the babies between them.

She is never warm anymore. She misses her planet and the green lushness of it. She misses the luxury of Coruscant. She misses Anakin and his warmth.

He is good with the babies.

But she would be good with them too if she could sense what they need.

She is getting better.

The first half year was hard. She hated nursing them. Hated their demanding, scrunched-up faces and their wailing that could only be stopped when she fed them her nipples.

She knew she waited too long to feed them and by that time they were ravenous and thrashing their heads from left to right blindly searching, searching like baby birds. Her breasts were raw and bloody and she felt a deep-seated aversion to her own children that made her recoil when she tried to think about it.

She cries in the darkness when she nurses them, her back to him, so that he might not see. She knows that he knows. You cannot hide in a hut this small.

He can feel her sadness, she is sure. Just like he can smell the curdled milk and the salt of her tears.

Moisture always comes with a smell in the desert.

The midwife says her children are always hungry because her milk is not nutritious enough. She cries and nurses them, cries and nurses.

"We can feed them Bantha milk," he says, in the darkness behind her, like it's a secret.

And somehow she cries harder, as if by taking this one act of kindness she is admitting to one more failing.

"Padmé," he whispers. ", did you hear?"

She nods her head. Her hair is matted where she lays on it and it rubs against her wet cheek. One of the babies is still biting her nipple. It hurts. It always hurts. And she can only bear it by telling herself she deserves it.

She thinks of her sister feeding her niece, and imagines her tranquil face and kind smile. Not once, did she feel like this.

The tears flow.

If she could nurture her children on her tears they would be fat and happy.

The hut is ugly.

Its colors are brown and beige and grey and brown. Always brown. Everything is rough and dry. But the hut means comfort because it's cool inside during the day and holds warmth during the night.

Obi-Wan works outside during the day and his skin is chapped at all times.

During those first weeks, his skin is burnt from the sun to a worrying degree. He never complains even though she knows that it must hurt. He is too fair. But the sun changes him. His pearly white skin turns red and angry and then a ruddy unbecoming tan.

"Sit down," she says, but doesn't wait for him and starts putting ointment on his face. He winces. It must hurt. Her fingers aren't gentle.

"You have to put this on your skin before you go out."

He doesn't say anything.

"Did you hear?" she asks and grabs his chin, the bristles of his beard rough under her fingers. She meets his light eyes.

"Yes," he says, and because he can't pull away he closes his eyes. In defeat?

Strange how powerful that makes her feel. There is a sensation in her chest, hot and achy and new. She lets him go as if burned by his skin.

"See to it!" she snaps, unable to look at that face: The burnt skin, the rough, dry patches with the ointment settling into it.

Maybe, she thinks, he is doing it on purpose, so she will tend to him.

Just to feel something else.

He uses the ointment and she doesn't have to touch him anymore.

And why should they touch? They never did before.

But the smallness of the hut, the constant touching of the babies, makes her realize what is painstakingly obvious: They don't touch because they fear that they wouldn't be able to stop once they started.

After the first year, he whitenes the walls.

One morning she rises, bleary-eyed and in need of kaff and he is already at it in the living room. He is only wearing beige pants that hang loosely on his hips. How didn't she notice how much weight he lost? She can count his ribs, could touch them, and feel them moving under the skin.

But what is even more fascinating is that there are constellations of moles on his skin.

She is transfixed by how white this secret skin of his is. She never sees him like this.

She has the urge to put her brown hands on him.

She shakes her head, trying to put this thought to rest.

She fails.

And thinks of it. Again.

And again during the day.

The first time she rides him is in the pitch-black darkness. They are only bodies and he helps her to slake her desperate lust.

She couldn't possibly say what he thinks. She only feels that he is hard, just like she is wet. And she knows they fit and it makes her feel whole.

He could be anyone, during those nights. But strangely, he never is.

She never imagines him to be anyone else.

Come to think of it, she never even considered it.

Her hands curl into his chest hair, certainly hurting him, but he doesn't say anything. Let's her. And she imagines his face, not anyone else.

His face.

In the morning she wonders how this could've happened.

Like so many things in her life, she lets them be, ignored but not forgotten. Ready to be considered at a different time.

Just not today.

It doesn't take Obi-Wan long to whiten the walls.

Maybe, she thinks, fucking him was her way of saying thank you.

She considers it, then dismisses it.

She will think about it some other time.

The thing about Tatooine is, that you have all the time in the world.

#obidala #obi wan x padme #fanfiction #yddoo 🤍

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tetsunabouquet · 5 months ago

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Can't Help Falling In Love With You Chapter 15,5

Masterpost

Midorima felt like so embarrassed, he was waiting for the ground to come swallow him whole and disappear. Shinju's eyes were glittering with delight as she teased her brother in front of you. "Are you planning to marry her?" Midorima's face was as red as a crate of tomatoes and you looked at your shoes just as his father walked into the room. "Shinju, honey, marriage is for adults." Kenichi said as he handed you a glass of water to drink. You kindly accepted it, and took a sip as Midorima's father sat in front of the two of you. "Forgive us for being noisy. Shintaro can be a little closed off sometimes." You nodded in understanding, that was your boyfriend alright. "So, if I may ask, how did the two of you meet?" Midorima was still too red to respond, so you answered; "The school's infirmary. He was visitin his teammate Takao. He's part of the health club and volunteers there. My friend had a situation so I brought him to the infirmary. Apparantly I caught your son's eye that day and well, here we are." You said, trying to tiptoe around Ichijo's drug use. Kenichi hummed at your answer, looking obviously amused at his son. "So you were the one to approach her, huh?" "Yes, nandayo." "You have truly grown my son," he looked very proud and you could imagine Midorima's reserved nature being a worry for a father as friendly as Kenichi, yet could also see how it was clearly embarrassing to your boyfriend. "You really have a wonderful home, Mr Ken." You complimented, trying to take the heat off of poor Midorima. He chuckled. "My wife is an interior designer, she decorated our home." You smiled, "well she did a great job. Honestly, the hints of apple green and citrus yellow gives your home such a fresh look. It's so much better then that bland white, beige and grey trend." Kenichi chuckled once more as his wife entered the room, her cheeks a little red as she had heard your compliment. "Dinner will be ready in five minutes or so," she informed all of you and Shinju darted to the dining room with such speed, that you grinned. She wouldn't make a bad choice for the track team, clearly being athletic ran in the family. You blinked in ausrprise as Midorima offered his hand, helping you to stand up. Blushing lightly, you took it and let him hoist you up.

Ririka's cooking was as excellent as her interior decorating skills and you ate with bliss. Shinju, who sat opposite from you, turnt out to be a very sloppy eater and her face was covered in food, which only made her look more adorable. Midorima sat next to you with the kind of ease that made you wonder if this was how it was going to be, if you had the luck that your first love was also your last. If years from now, you would join them at the dinner table like this, fully embraced as a daughter in law. You were at complete ease, and everything seemed so idyllic and perfect that you couldn't believe that this was happening. It was like you could see the light at the end of the dark tunnel you had been born in. But the darkness always came chasing after you and deep in the back of your mind you worried when something or someone would show up that would take it all away from you. A girl like you never had nice things. They would never last, running through your fingers like sand as you sobbed and cried; not wanting to be parted from it but would anyways. That was what people meant with something being tainted, something having a black stain you could never wash out. Only a select lucky few managed to wash theirs out and deep inside you had always feared that you didn't had what it took to do so. Yet you still smiled inspite of your fears at Kenichi's jokes, still held a shred of hope as Ririka looked at you warmly and asked you some basic questions, felt yourself soften as you beheld Shinju's cute face. Almost as if he sensed there was something troubling you in the depths of your heart, Midorima held a spoon in front of your face with his own a bright red, his family awe'd as he fed you. Yes, this was the dream.

#knb #kuroko's basketball #knb x reader #midorima #midorima shintaro #midorima shintarou #midorima x reader #knb midorima #midorima family #dinner with his parents

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bathroomcorpse · 1 year ago

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margot: 👄 😱 auggie: 🔮😭 elias: 🎨 🤲

reblogged that last night and then completely forgot abt it WHOOPS anyway thank uuuuu. this got SO long so it's going under a cut

👄: How do they talk? What's their vocabulary like? What does their voice sound like? Any accent, verbal tics, etc?

like a lot of things about margot, there are a few answers to this question. she has a paris hilton vibe in that she puts on a voice in a higher register a lot, especially as a kid, mostly to appease her mother and to use in pageants. it's probably not dissimilar to a young britney spears. she has a bit of a southern us accent that i think she plays up especially when she's at competitions not in the south to give a sort of ditzy but innocent southern princess vibe that is VERY antithetical to her actual self. her real voice is a bit deeper and raspier (she and auggie both started smoking before they were even teenagers so there's a bit of that in there too). she comes from a wealthy family so she's well educated and heavily encouraged to speak eloquently but not TOO eloquently (don't want to make your future husband feel stupid) but i think she's got a very good vocabulary that she likes to flex. or she goes in the opposite direction and swears like a sailor. or both. whatever she thinks will annoy people the most in the moment.

😱: Do they have any irrational fears/phobias? How do they cope with them?

margot's only fear is being separated from her twin. when this does start to happen she copes with it Badly. specifics of margot's pre-college summer are still being worked out but it's not any Better than auggie's pre-college summer. and we all know how That's going.

🔮: If they were to feature in the art of a tarot card, which one would it be and why?

ooooooh. i pulled out my personal tarot book to consult on this one so if my interpretations are off its because i'm using a Specific deck lol. i'm going with the seven of cups because at least in my deck it references coming to a point where you all of a sudden realize you've built a house of cards and a world around yourself or a self based on lies and deception and falsehoods and tbh this could also be elias but he's a little more Concious of what he's doing than auggie is. where auggie is kind of just going through life doing whatever makes the most sense for him and it's kind of always a terrible decision. could also see him as part of the devil card but not as the corrupting force but the one being corrupted.

😭: How easily do they cry? Do they ever cry in front of other people? When was the last time they cried?

auggie used to cry WAY more. he cried a fuck ton as a child. he grew out of it, though. after years of his parents ignoring him, his mother becoming hostile when he showed weakness, edmund torturing him, etc etc etc, he kind of just stopped caring enough about himself to cry? if that makes sense? i think he's probably had tears come out of his eyes but the Act of crying has not happened in years probably.

🎨: What is their color scheme? Or at least colors you associate them with?

office beige, grey, white, but then also blood red and the dark brown of wet dirt.

🤲: Do they have any deep desires that they don't talk about and/or don't even realize they have? Do these desires conflict with their main goal at all?

elias' main goal is power and control. he's able to fold most of his weird sidequests into that main goal but things do get complicated when he brings auggie back into his life as older adults. the fact that elias is the one who chooses to rekindle their relationship indicates a desire around auggie that is deeper than his desires for power and control which at that point he has! it's not "love" in any traditional sense but auggie remains compelling to him i think because of their similarities in a lot of ways. i also think he likes a challenge and once he's beaten the main quests, so to speak (success in career, having a family, owning a nice home, blah blah blah) he finds himself unchallenged. i think he thinks he wants to win but really what he wants to do is play.

#late summer tag #'rekindle their relationship' sounds so much nicer than what it is LMAO #elias is out here new game plussing his way into destroying everything he has and the lives of multiple people in the process #i love the way they love <3

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goldenkirstein · 4 years ago

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She lives in daydreams with me

or alternatively, when jean and you visit Ikea

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 1.5k+

tags: fluff, modern! au, female reader, language, mentions of food.

a/n: I was inspired by this post, also I just like Ikea, I think Jean would to tbh. am i living out my own daydreams with Jean by writing this? potentially. i love him lol. Feedback and any criticism encouraged lmao.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Your head tilted as you stared dead-on at the boy in front of you.

“Jean, what is that?”

“What are you talking about baby, this is a-” He squinted, looking at the tag, of what you assumed to be a night light?

“An-garna.” Jean looked back up at you, grinning widely.

You had come earlier to Ikea, needing to buy some storage baskets for your room, and yet here you were standing in a miniature model of a child’s room, staring at the six-foot three-man holding a children’s night light, that had...Was that panda face design on it?

“Jean, my love, my dear, we don’t have kids; why on Earth would I need a children’s night light?” The toothy grin quickly disappeared from his face, quickly replaced with a stern expression.

“Just because something is marketed towards children doesn’t mean adults can’t buy it, and anyways I was merely suggesting it, knowing how you can’t sleep after watching horror movies.” It’s more like when he can’t sleep after watching, but his ego would never let him admit that.

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, “put it in the cart, Kirstein.” He flashed you a smile, coming over and placing a kiss on your cheek before mumbling a small thank you.

As much as you would act annoyed or unamused when it came to Jean’s antics, it was more or less a front. You loved it when he would let his guard down in public with you. He wasn’t always like this; the Jean you met years prior would be caught dead before expressing his affections in public. He would get easily flustered, blush to sport his face if anyone he knew saw him admiring and doting on his girlfriend. It wasn’t something that deeply upset you; in a way, you were able to keep a tiny part of Jean to yourself, the goofy, tender side of him that he only let out when he was with you. However, watching him become more confident in himself and expressing his love for you outranked any desires that you had to keep Jean bottled up for your gratification.

He walked in front, long legs carrying him practically miles in front of you until he turned a corner and found himself situated in a living-room model. You followed shortly after and saw that he was making himself comfortable on a charcoal-grey couch.

“Mm, come sit,” he patted gently on the cushion next to him, gesturing to you to join him on the sofa. You raised your eyebrows and let out a giggle, situating the cart near a side table before accompanying him.

“What do you wanna watch babe,” Jean tilted his head, signalling to the fake flat-screen in front of you. You thought about tormenting the boy; however, you opted to play along with him this time.

“Oooh, I don’t know, check if the new Grey’s episode is out.” He smiled at you, appreciating your willingness to get lost in this daydream with him. His smile quickly shifted into a mischievous grin as he poked your side.

“Heyyy, what the fuck was that for!” You recoiled, shrinking away from him, but before you could get far enough away from him, he pulled you back into his side. You tried squirming away from him, only for his grip on you to get stronger, and you were met with a chuckle—the noise reverberating around the tiny living room.

“Really? Greys? On a night like this?” You shifted your body, turning your head to look at the “window” covered with sheer beige curtains, overlaid with opaque maroon ones. Outside, or rather you should say the wall was painted white, so you began drumming up a scenario in your mind. That was tonight, a spring evening, stars visible in the night sky? Or a cold and snowy winter’s night? The purple tinge of the atmosphere apparent through the translucent curtains. Jean stared at you intently, wondering what you will come up with, his gaze shifting as the corners of your lips upturned; you had settled on an idea.

“Oooh yeah, it’s practically pitch black outside; I can only see the streetlights in the distance. We should really do something about that pesky tree, though. Its branches keep tapping on the window; it’s frankly quite annoying.” A rosy tinge was present on his cheeks, hazel eyes twinkling at you.

You placed a hand on his chest, your focus entirely on the love-struck boy in front of you, “You know what? We should totally watch a horror movie!” Just as you began to immerse yourself in the daydream, Jean shot up from the couch, leaving an indent where he was sitting behind.

“Alright, enough dilly-dallying, we should go home now.” He clapped his hands together, moving to grab the cart to leave the store display.

Dilly-dallying? Did he really just say dilly-dallying?

“What’s wrong, Jean-boy? This is our home! Oooh, don’t tell me you don’t wanna watch because you’re scared.” You fell back on the couch, beaming, elbows propping you up as you teased him.

“Am not. I just decided that I’m in the mood for cinnamon rolls and fro-yo.” He placed his elbow on the handles of the cart, head resting in the palm of his hand. He gave you an unimpressed look.

“Oh really? Who’s that night-light for again? I seem to have forgotten.” This time it was his turn to roll his eyes at you. Without saying anything, he placed his hands back on the cart’s handle and began to leave the “living room.”

You swung your legs over, a giggle leaving your mouth as you walked over to your boyfriend. You wrapped your arms around his middle, resting your cheek on him. “Babe, I was just joking; I didn’t mean to upset you,” you mumbled into him.

He let out a sigh and stopped in the middle of the aisle. You watched as he brought one of his hands down to grasp one of yours that had taken hold of his waist. Jean turned to face you, head tilting as a slight smirk overtook his face. “That’s what I was waiting to hear.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before turning around to continue rolling the cart forward to his destination.

His arm extended behind him, motioning to you to hold his hand. You obliged, your palm sliding in his, fingers curling around your knuckles as his. “Whatever,” you grumbled, choosing to turn your head to observe the variety of rugs that were hanging on display. He tugged at your hand, an amused expression painting his face.

“You want those cinnamon buns or not, pretty girl?” The pet name almost made you choke. He knew what it would do to you. He would use it sparsely, only to coax a reaction out of you, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know the hold he had over you.

You whipped your head back to face him, confident to quip back at him, but it all melted when you saw the way he was looking at you; a lop-sided smirk, his tongue peeked out to wet his bottom lip before capturing it between his teeth. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for what you had to say.

“Yeah, I do.” You managed to slip a few words out. He had won this one, using his charms to debilitate any assuredness you had. He brought your linked hands up to his lips, tenderly kissing the back of your hand, humming in delight.

“You know, we should come here more often, live out our domestic daydreams together.” The smells of cinnamon buns were getting stronger as you walked on.

“Sure, but you could also just move in with me.”

The tips of his ears went red, and you paused, realizing what you just said, the weight of what you just said. You had thought about asking him to move in with you, but you didn’t mean for it to slip out in the middle of a random conversation; in Ikea nonetheless. “I- You don’t have to. I was just joking. I don’t know why I said that.”

Your voice dwindled to merely a whisper as you completed your sentence. Jean stopped the cart once more. “Yes. Yes, I’ll move in with you.” His expression was earnest as he looked at you, eyes glittering with adoration as he waited for your response.

“Whoa, whoa, hold your horses cowboy. We can talk about this after you get me those cinnamon buns you promised.” you wiped any sense of embarrassment from your face as you tried to suppress your laughter, which was caused by the zealousness your boyfriend had just shown.

However, there was no doubt that your heart did grow in fondness for Jean, and you were relieved that he wasn’t off-put by your haphazard confession. He was absolutely whipped for you, and you couldn’t deny that you were head over heels in love with him either. You desired to continue to share your life with him, and moving in together would be the next step in your relationship.

“Yes, Ma’am” His voice broke you out of your thoughts as he placed his hand to his forehead to salute you. You giggled at his actions.

“Lead the way, Kirstein.”

a/n: lol, this was practically for my own self-indulgence. and i feel like this was a tad bit ooc idk. Anywayssss, I would like to mention that I'm working on a navigation page with taglists and such and thinking about requests. I wanna branch out write for more aot characters as well as jjk and hq. Again, I'm very new to this so it's gonna take some time. I would love to know ur thoughts on all of this lol.

As always, please leave a like/reblog (i love reading tags makes me happy heh) if you enjoyed this, I appreciate lots <33

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flyingkiki · 3 years ago

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We Played Dangerously (3/?)

May our hearts and nerves be ready for the rollercoaster of emotions these stupid birds will take us on. Gaaaaaah.

Enjoy my loves. Adult nonsense will be ready for you in the next chapter to fuel the this storm of emotions.

Present, downtown Gotham

Red Robin slipped through Raven’s balcony relatively easily, something that he found deeply concerning. He frowned as he carefully closed the balcony door and locked the flimsy lock. He'd have to remind her that she lived in Gotham and practically anyone could climb through her doors.

Turning around, he looked at the sparsely decorated living room, taking in the old brick walls of the building and the large fireplace that stood in the center of the room. Raven always did like the appeal of a fireplace.

Not bothering to turn on the lights, Tim silently walked through her apartment, mildly surprised that she still wasn’t home. It was close to 10, would her job at the library really take that much of her time?

Tim had returned from his business trip in Japan a little while ago, his itinerary stretched out way too much for his liking. The moment his plane landed, he had thanked Tam for her help and brushed past her in a heartbeat, rushing down the tarmac of their private hanger and disappeared into his car. Within an hour he had gone home, showered, downed two cups of cold brew, and changed into his uniform.

And found himself slipping into Raven’s apartment uninvited.

As he absently stared at the sole decoration that stood on top of fireplace mantel -- an old group photo of the Titans in civvies. His nerves were buzzing under his skin as he stared at the familiar scene. He chalked it up to his coffee and lack of sleep.

Her apartment was small, decently sized for a single occupant -- was she a single occupant? His night vision-enhanced gaze briefly swept through the apartment, trying to find any signs of a roommate. The thought unsettled him.

The living room was filled with a few cardboard boxes, several neatly stacked piles of documents and books, tons of books piled on a rather large coffee table and scattered across the floor, a bookshelf that seemed halfway built, and a handful of potted plants and decorations. His gaze settled on a ugly beige throw blanket strewn over the backrest of Raven’s large couch, the intricate woven pattern looked worn. The sight of the familiar blanket made his chest jump at a distant memory.

Tim stilled as the lock of Raven’s front door jiggled and turned, breaking the silence. He paused and watched from the shadows as the hallway lights switched on and Raven walked into the apartment, busy talking to whoever was on the other end of her phone call. He ignored the relief that washed over him when she entered her apartment alone.

“Yeah, Toni, just a small papaya salad on the side,” Raven said while she absently tossed her keys and her phone on the hallway table, leaving her phone on speakerphone. Her keys clattered into a ceramic bowl and Tim blinked at the noise, intently watching her. He watched as she struggled to deposit her laptop bag on her floor before proceeding to pull off her heels.

“So, pad thai and a side order of green papaya salad. Do you want that spicy or not so spicy, but probably spicy still?” Tim could hear the garbled voice of the store owner through the rustle of clothes. He watched Raven pull off her trench coat, revealing a grey a-line office dress. Raven paused, her hands lingering on her coat as she stood by the coat rack and Tim could see the familiar rise of her shoulders, tensing just a fraction of an inch.

“Sorry, could you change that?” she said suddenly, her tone changing ever so lightly. “Could you make that into a large order of Pad Thai? To share. And add an order of Khao Pad fried rice, large. And some Thai fried chicken? Throw in an order of mango and sticky rice, please,”

Raven pulled the hair tie out of her hair and ran a hand through her hair, trying to get most of the tangles out as she listened to the restaurant owner prattle through her order. Tim watched her blink and nod, before continuing. “And two large Thai Iced Teas,” she paused as she picked up her phone from the small hallway table and easily caught Tim’s eye from where he stood in the dark corner of her living room. Tim watched a familiar smile form on her lips before turning back to her phone. “Thanks, Toni. That should be all.”

Raven quickly ended the call after the promise of having her food delivered within 20 minutes. Turning on her bare feet, Raven stared into her dark living room, easily spotting Tim next to her potted fern that was close to dying. “I’m going to change clothes. Our intern spilled some chai tea latte on my skirt and I smell like cardamom,” she said simply, speaking to his silhouette. Tim watched her blink, as if him lurking in her living room corner was nothing out of the ordinary. “If Sam the delivery guy comes and I’m not yet back just tell him to leave it at the door, I’ll pay for the food later via Venmo or something. Just make sure my neighbors don’t see you, it’ll be weird to explain you to them,”

And without another word, Tim watched Raven gracefully turn and disappear around the corner. He blinked, staring at the old red bricks of the wall she just walked behind as if they just picked up their conversation from six years ago. Unable to move, he heard her shower turn on and he felt his insides leap at the sound. What was he here for again?

After a few moments of listening to the distant noise of her shower and trying desperately to fight the tension that seemed to stretch across his shoulders, Tim finally came to his senses and stepped out of the corner. Tentatively walking into her sparsely decorated living room, Tim continued his venture through her apartment staring at bare walls and large framed pictures of landscapes propped against the wall waiting to be mounted.

Beyond the living room there was a small kitchen and black kitchen island, he could see that it was already set up. In the corner of the kitchen counter he found a red KitchenAid stand mixer and Tim smiled at the sight, wondering if she actually did end up learning to bake (“I’d like to be able to bake some passable shortbread cookies,” she told him one Christmas). He didn’t bother walking into the kitchen or anywhere else in her apartment, since it seemed too much invasion of her privacy - as if breaking and entering into her apartment wasn’t enough.

He lingered in the darkness of her living room, cataloguing trinkets and the general mess to memory. Tim stared at the myriad of little trinkets that littered one of the selves next to her television -- Raven had always liked picking up quirky trinkets from her travels. He spotted a few he had known she had kept from her days at the Tower. An assortment of rocks from Tamaran, a necklace from Zambia, a little carved box from Peru. A familiar little elf with a lettuce hat stood out from the group or ceramics and stoneware; it was a little elf souvenir she picked up in Iceland.

Tim blinked as her door buzzed loudly, pulling him out of his thoughts. The door buzzed again, longer this time and he stared at her front door unsure what to do.

“Could you get that?”

Raven’s voice carried through her apartment. Tim blinked and stared at the direction from where her voice came from before carefully walking up to the phone in the hallway and picking up the receiver just as it buzzed again. “Hello?” he asked tentatively, feeling just a little out of place.

“Err, Royal Thai’s. Uh, Rachel?” the voice on the other end of the line sounding terribly confused over the noise of outside traffic. “Did I get the right apartment number?”

Tim cleared his throat. “Yeah, 7 oh 4,” he said and blinked at the old telephone mounted on the wall. It was one of the older models that came with the building. “I’ll buzz you in. Just leave the food by the door, we’ll get it in a bit. We’ll pay via Venmo. We’re a bit, uh,” he stumbled and tried to find the right words as he looked at his combat boots. “Busy,”

Tim immediately regretted his choice of words, wincing at the snort of amusement from the other end. It sounded like they were busy with certain activities. Tim sighed, absently tapping the receiver with his gloved finger and pressing the buzzer and allowing access to the delivery guy.

He waited by the door and listened as the elevator finally dinged in the distance. There was a knock on the door followed by rustle of paper bags being deposited on the doormat. “Royal Thai’s!” came the muffled announcement through the old wooden door.

“Thanks, man. We got this,” Tim called back. He leaned into the door, waiting and listening as footsteps slowly disappeared with the sound of an elevator opening and closing. Waiting briefly to ensure the coast was clear, Tim finally opened the door slightly and carefully pulled in the paper bags to avoid being seen by her neighbors. It would be terrible to start rumors of a Red Robin sighting visiting a library researcher.

Enjoying the familiar smell of thai food, Tim silently went back into her living room and carefully deposited the bag on her coffee table, careful not to disturb any of her documents. Engulfed in the familiar smell of Thai fried chicken, Tim felt nervousness slowly creep under his skin as the familiarity of the smell and scene stirred distant memories. His chest tightened at the thought.

“Why didn’t you turn on the lights?” Raven asked as she stepped into the living room, the familiar scent of fresh lavender soap announcing her entrance. Tim watched, her silhouette cast from the hallway’s light, a sight he had committed to memory as she stood in the doorway of the living room. With the flick of her wrist, her lights turned on.

Tim wasn’t sure why his throat tightened at the sight of her, but he spent a moment staring at her. Last night’s image of Raven was familiar, but tonight seeing her in an frayed, oversized Gotham Knights shirt and blue sweatpants, was an achingly intimate image that he had burned into memory. He watched Raven blink, her lips curling into a smile.

“Your uniform has changed,” Tim watched dark blue eyes sweep over this uniform, lingering on some of the upgrades he added in recent years. She approached him slowly, keeping her gaze steady with his.

“Just a few upgrades,” he supplied, intently watching her face as she studied him. Tim felt his breath catch as she stood in front of him, her eyes sweeping over his form. He wondered what she saw as she stared at him, her lips curling as his voice carried through her living room. She looked the same to him, the sight of her in oversized shirts and damp hair a familiar sight he remembered well.

Raven stared up at him, she had to crane her head just a little bit to stare up at him. A small playful smile played on her lips as she studied his face. “Are you going to stay masked the whole time?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Tim chuckled as whatever moment broke and he shook his head, “No.”

Raven’s eyes brightened and she smiled. Not giving him the time to pull off his cowl, she leaned forward and stood on her toes, reaching out to carefully push his cowl off his head. The press of her fingers against his hairline were familiar and her movements well practiced as she knew exactly what to tug and unclasp.

“You’re taller,” she noted, her fingers curling into his cowl as she stood back and stared up at him. There was an amused sparkle and wonder in her eyes as she studied his unmasked face, and Tim found himself eagerly drinking in her curiosity and wonder.

“Might have grown a bit while you were gone,” Tim teased, his voice light and he smiled as Raven released a soft laugh.

Raven hummed, eyes bright and a small smile every present on her lips. She studied him for a moment longer before turning to her coffee table and eyeing the large paper bags. Dropping his cowl on her couch, she walked up to the table and picked up the bags. “Let’s eat. I’m starving and I’m sure you did not eat anything yet,” she said with an air of finality.

Tim silently followed her into her kitchen and watched Raven deposit the bags in her own kitchen. He stopped short in her kitchen doorway and found himself watching an intimate scene from years ago in his own apartment: of a much younger Raven plating a large order of Pad Thai onto the cheap plates Jason gave him as a housewarming gift.

“Are you going to stand around and watch or are you going to eat something?” asked Raven, pulling him out of his thoughts. Tim blinked and approached her kitchen island, staring in amazement at an all too familiar sight of thai dishes.

“You remembered,” he asked, an amused smile playing on his lips as he sat down opposite of her and pulled off his gloves. The familiar smell of Thai fried chicken and pad thai filled his nose.

Raven rolled her eyes and sat down, pushing a spare plate his way and nudging the pad thai closer to him. Her eyes were bright and playful as they shared an amused smile. “Difficult not to, when this is practically the only food you willingly eat every time we’re here without having to remind you it’s mealtime,” she teased.

Tim hummed through a mouthful of Royal Thai’s pad thai, his favorite. The first time they came up to Gotham together he had quickly introduced her to his favorite restaurant and ordering in had quickly become a routine for them.

Back then.

“I was kind of expecting you to sneak in here last night,” commented Raven absently as they went through their food. Tim caught her mild amusement as she took a small sip from her iced tea.

Tim shrugged and got himself a large helping of fried rice. “I had an early flight to Japan and I couldn’t risk missing the flight. Tam would kill me,”

Raven released a soft laugh. “I’m sure she would,”

"The last time I arrived late to a board meeting she gave me so much paperwork the next day to spite me," commented Tim wryly. "One should never mess with Tam's schedule,"

Raven made an amused face and snorted. “Oh, I know,” her small smile was playful and there was an amused lilt in her voice.

Tim chuckled softly and a distant thought crossed his mind, this moment seeming so normal to them. Like years had not passed. He swallowed the small lump that formed in his throat. He sobered up slightly.

As if catching the shift of his emotion, Raven blinked, her gaze sweeping over Tim’s face. Carefully placing her fork on the edge of her plate, she stared at Tim curiously and tilted her head. “How have you been?” she asked, her voice softer.

Tim gave her a wry smile.

“Busy,” Tim breathed. He winced at how lame the answer sounded. He stared at her, familiar blue eyes boring into his, and he suddenly was unsure where to begin and pick-up from six years ago. The easy moment minutes earlier slowly melted away and an uneasy feeling settled low in his stomach. “Mid-year reporting season is coming up, things are crazy at the office. There’s a new business acquisition we’re working on, too.”

“You’re acquiring that tech company in Tokyo, right?”

Tim blinked, surprised that she knew. “You know?”

Raven smiled, tilting her head and studying his reaction. “I read about you in the papers. You’re hard to miss,”

Tim released a bark of laughter, grinning teasingly. “I hope you only saw the good stuff,”

“I keep away from TMZ and other tabloids,” she sent him a teasing smile.

Tim paused and stared at her, drinking in the familiar sight of her. A wave of nostalgia washed over him. His stomach churned and he knew she caught his emotions as she tilted her head curiously. “You’ve been difficult to keep track of,”

Raven inhaled, breaking eye contact briefly. She stared out her window, thoughtful, before turning back to Tim and offering him a muted smile. “Reception was bad in Iceland,”

A distant memory of hot springs, breathtaking mountainscapes, and the aurora borealis crossed Tim’s mind and he immediately squashed those memories as his stomach churned and his chest tightened. He watched Raven’s gaze darken briefly. “Yeah, I guess it was,”

Raven picked at her food thoughtfully before continuing. She shrugged absently and glanced at Tim. “After I finished at NYU, I moved to Boston for the conservation and restoration program. And then I went around for a few research projects --”

“Indonesia, Africa, Bulgaria,” Tim looked at her, watching Raven’s reaction. He smiled at her. “Iceland once in a while,”

Raven looked thoughtful for a moment as she stared at Tim, a small smile playing on her lips. She swallowed and averted her gaze briefly, before turning back to him. “Yeah,” she breathed, a soft laugh followed.

Tim exhaled, releasing a breath he was unconsciously holding. “I guess we’ve been both pretty busy,”

Raven blinked and smiled pensively. “I guess so,”

Tim swallowed, conscious of how his nerves seemingly crawled under his skin.”Have you been in touch with the others?”

Raven shook her head. “Not in recent years. Rose once in a while, but not really the rest.”

He looked surprised. Rose had never mentioned that she and Raven had been in touch. “You should swing by,” he suggested, an encouraging smile playing on his lips. “The team misses you,”

Raven tapped her iced tea thoughtfully. Tim saw the brief flicker of emotions in her eyes, catching her microexpression easily and he felt his nerves jump. Raven nodded. “Yeah, I miss everyone too,”

“Do you like what you’re doing now?” Tim asked curiously, as they continued to navigate through their meal and finish their shared pad thai and fried rice. The fried chicken had been long gone, most of it polished off by Tim.

Raven shrugged and made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat. “I like it,” she said while shoveling a few spoonfuls of fried rice onto her plate. She fiddled with a peanut thoughtfully before spooning it. “I like the research and working on old books. It’s fun,”

Tim smiled in amusement. “Only you will say that gluing old pages together is fun,”

Raven rolled her eyes and lobbed the fried peanut at Tim, who easily dodged the projectile legume with a bark of laughter. “It’s more than just gluing pages together, jerk.”

Tim laughed and nodded. “I know. We’re funding your research project, I know the details. I’m sorry, I’m just teasing you,” he grinned, leaning over just a little bit and into their shared space, blue eyes dancing in amusement.

“It’s a lot less exciting than what we do with the Titans,” she mused. “But I get to travel for projects. I like that. It’s fun to go around Asia or Europe and get to experience food and culture without having to worry about being shot or killed at every corner,”

Tim chuckled. “I see where the appeal is coming from,”

“It’s nice when people don’t know you,” said Raven, absently stabbing the last of her chicken. She cast Tim a wry smile. “They don’t hold that expectation or fear that you can bring down an entire building or destroy the planet at will,”

Tim frowned, catching how she sobered up and looked away. He swallowed, knowing how deep some wounds ran. “Civilian life looks great on you,” he said, grappling to shift the somber mood, staring at her in the all too familiar Gotham Knights shirt she was wearing. “Even if you’re in a very ratty Gotham Knights shirt. I was wondering where that went,”

Raven released a soft laugh, blue eyes a little brighter and he watched her run a free hand over the terribly frayed and stretched collar of the shirt. “You leave it, I keep it,” she said simply.

“In fact, I lost quite a few pieces of clothing,” Tim commented, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“You leave it, I keep it, your honor,” Raven raised her hands in mock innocence as she stood up and threw an amused smile at him. She went to grab another plate for their mango and sticky rice.

“From what I hear you’ve not only been working on sticking old pages together,” said Tim as Raven slid their dessert in between them. He sent her a small grin as she snorted. “Intercepted a human trafficking ring in Africa, busted drug cartel in Indonesia,”

Raven shrugged and helped herself to the sweet desert, taking a large helping of sweet rice and mango. She always had a sweet, something she never would openly admit. But Tim knew better. “The police was not help, they barely did anything for those kids. Those were easy enough jobs. In other countries it's easier to slip on the uniform occasionally and no one recognizes you. Easy in and out jobs,” she explained.

“Do you miss it?”

Raven looked at him, blue meeting stormy blue. Tim watched her look thoughtful. “Sometimes,” she finally said.

He swallowed and tried to bite the bullet, nerves thumping under his skin as she stared back at him, anticipating his next question with bated breath. “Will you come back to us?” he asked, the pit of his stomach gnawing as he anticipated her answer. He wondered how he would react if she did not say the words he wanted her to say -- his stomach flipped.

“I don’t know,” Raven said finally, breaking contact and looking out the window. There was an air of melancholy that draped around her and she looked significantly smaller in his old Gotham Knights shirt, for the first time looking so vastly different from the woman he remembered. “I like what I do, Tim. I like the life I have and the opportunity of walking through this world without biases and fear directed towards me,”

He distinctly felt a cold jolt run down his back and Tim straightened in his uniform. Tim knew he had no place to ask for her to come back. He remembered their conversation years ago -- this was her life and this was what she wanted, needed. Tim felt his nerves take a tumble and his chest tighten as his first concerns from years ago were confirmed.

“Well, you did say you’d take a sabbatical. I did not hear a no,” he tried feebly, sending her a wry smile.

Raven exhaled and looked at him, her gaze soft. “Yeah. It’s not a no,” she repeated. Looking like she had enough of her food, Raven stood up and picked up her empty plates and started to carefully place them into her sink. Tim watched her movements silently, he tried to ignore how this looked exactly like an old scene from his apartment’s kitchen.

Sensing that tonight’s conversation was over, Tim slowly stood up and helped her with the dishes. They worked silently, putting away leftovers and placing all dishes into the sink. He stood to the side, watching as Raven used her powers to clean all dishes with a sweep of her hands and they were washed and neatly stacked on the drying rack.

“It’s getting late,” Raven breathed, pushing herself away from the sink and looking at him over her shoulder. A signal that tonight’s conversation was done. Tim swallowed. “I have an early meeting with the museum’s director tomorrow and I have to go through my notes,”

“Right,” echoed Tim. As he returned into her living room to pull on his gloves and pick up his cowl, he found himself in an internal battle, trying to figure out what to do next. His throat tightened at the thought of how he drew a blank and the panic of tonight ending with so many things still unresolved settled heavily on his chest. He drew in a rattled breath and pulled on his cowl. Perhaps tonight truly was enough.

“It’s good to see you again, Tim,” Raven said behind him, her voice carrying through her apartment. It was a tone he was deeply familiar with. He fiddled with his belt to keep his hands busy as he was unsure what to do next.

Turning around, Tim offered Raven a bright smile, quickly sweeping aside his unsettled feelings. He’d take what he could from her, from this moment. He ignored how different it felt, to be Red Robin in front of Raven, a civilian, in his old t-shirt, an image that he had burned into memory. “It’s good to see you again, Raven,” he told her.

Tim had his arms around her even before she was pressed into him. Raven stepped closer and offered him a long hug, arms wrapping tightly around his torso and fingers pressing into the kevlar of his back. The press of her was exactly how he remembered, warm and soft, perfectly tucked into his side and under his arms. He catalogued this to memory, inhaling the familiar scent of her and memorizing her softness. How could he have missed this?

Tim swallowed uneasily as she stepped away and slipped out of reach. “Good night, Tim,”

“Good night, Raven,” he smiled at her. He slowly made his way to her balcony and paused as he opened it. Looking over his shoulder, he caught her watching him leave. He licked his lips and continued. “I--” he paused and breathed. Fuck it. He felt his heart leap. “I wish we kept in touch,”

Raven tilted her head and Tim watched an expression he could not quite place cross her face. “Why didn’t we?”

His fingers tightened around the cold handle of her balcony. Tim blinked as a million reasons raced through his mind, stabbing him accusingly. Guilt and regret grabbed him by the throat. He inhaled shakily. “I don’t know,”

Raven smiled sadly at him. “I think we both know why,”

Tim dropped his head and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” He looked at her, drinking in the sight of her basked in the dim lights of her living room. “I’m sorry,”

He watched the rise of her chest as she inhaled and emotions flicker through her somber face. She offered him one last somber smile. “Good night, Red Robin,” she said softly, a signal that tonight had truly ended.

#TimRae #Tim Drake #Raven #Teen Titans #TimRae 2021 Year of Smut and Steam #BAGGAGE? WHAT BAGGAGE. WHOSE EXTRA BAGGAGE IS THIS?

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yanderetua · 4 years ago

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ShortFic - Joe Goldberg X Insecure Chubby!Fem

//You replace Love and Candace hasn't come back//

Hello you

You, in your yellow sundress, beige tights and a lovely matching beige cardigan covered in little chubby grey creatures that he couldn't decipher.

Your sleeves were tugged over your hands in cute little sweater paws and you were fidgeting, obviously uncomfortable as you would bounce from tugging your dress up to cover your chest and down to cover more of your legs.

Perfect

Your fingers poked out to gently tug the spine of a book to glance at the cover. You nudge it back, shuffling looking overwhelmed.

"Do you need anything?"

Shit I'm sorry

You jerk, stumbling.

"Uh, I-I don't know?"

Your voice was so light, delicate.

"Do you have anything in mind?"

He tries to keep his voice steady and quiet.

"I like... percy jackson?"

He frowns, not exactly classic literature but judging by her tugging on her sleeves and her bright red cheeks the book series had a deep meaning to her.

"We've got some decent young adult fiction over here."

She follows behind, bumping into him as someone shoves past them.

You're so warm...

You stutter out and apology and distance yourself.

"Don't worry darlin'"

Your cheeks turn pink again.

I'm going to make you blush for the rest of your life.

#joe goldberg #you #joe goldberg x reader #hulu #joe x reader #yandere #obsessed #obssesive #obsession

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moveobjectsonblogs · 4 years ago

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Zodiac Challenge

Welcome to the Sims 4 Zodiac Challenge!

This idea came to me in a dream after a month of um-ing and ah-ing over whether or not I should start my very own Sims inspired Youtube Channel.

This is also inspired by the Not So Berry Challenge over on my queen, lilsimsie’s page, since I recently started playing that myself and found myself engaging with aspects of the game I never used to before.

SO, the Zodiac challenge... It’s a legacy challenge inspired by Zodiac traits*, aspirations and careers with a little extra spice to keep the story moving along.

*Please keep in mind that this is not a direct reflection of Zodiac traits, but merely an inspired challenge based on some common information surrounding each sign and a need to make a workable legacy challenge. I love all you little start signs out there equally and I believe we all have some positive influences on society as a whole.

Okay, okay, cut to the chase already. Here are the rules of the challenge:

No excessive money cheats (freerealestate is acceptable, as well as moderate transfer of household fees when a sim moves out)

You have full control over CAS for your sims/partners/children, however traits are to remain according to challenge

The color attached to each generation/sign needs to be visible on all sim outfits as well as in household, but you can decide to what degree

You can create looks inspired by the signs, but again, you can decide to what degree

Make it your own! Where a generation requires pack-specific traits, aspirations, careers etc which you do not own, please substitute and come up with your own unique spin on it!

If a skill, aspiration, or career is listed, the expectation is to MAX IT OUT!

Please tag me! I want to see your videos, characters and creations on this

Generation 1 - Aries / Red - The Go-Getter

You start out as a runaway teen, trying to make it in the Big City. You believe you have what it takes to be the next National Leader, and the City is the place to be! You have a quick temper and a fiery personality, so in order to appear calm in the public eye (everyone wants a piece of you!) you need to practice Wellness every day. You don’t have time for marriage, but your PR Manager advised you it would look good for your political career to adopt!

Traits

Hot Headed

Self-Assured

Ambitious

Aspiration

Leader Of The Pack

Career

Politician (Politician branch to become National Leader)

Skills

Charisma

Wellness

Additional Requirements

Reach Level 3 Fame

Must have no biological children, only adopt

Don’t have a good relationship with child/ren

Never marry

Never retire

Generation 2 - Taurus / Dark Green - The Loving Nurturer

All your life you tried to get the approval of your always-too-busy presidential parent. You were pawned off to day-care, baby-sitters and after-school activities to fill your time and never knew what a parental figure or family time was. You were told to always appear perfect in terms of good grades, a good university degree and a stable career but in your heart all you ever wanted was love! You spend quality time with your children and your greatest pleasure is helping them grow and succeed in life. You believe in taking the time to grow your own produce in order to eat only the healthiest food and other sims would describe you as ~earthy~.

Traits

Foodie

Family Oriented

Romantic

Aspiration

Big Happy Family

Career

Freelancer (any branch you want)

Skills

Parenting

Gardening

Additional Requirements

Marry your High School/University sweetheart

Have minimum 3 children

Work part time in order to help children with meals & homework everyday

Generation 3 - Gemini / Yellow - The Open-Minded Adventurer

You loved your cozy (some would say sheltered) and unconventional upbringing with your earthy parent and many siblings; however, you want to see the world and all it has to offer for yourself! You love people, creativity and being busy and you want to see it all, try it all and be it all. Thanks to your loving mom, you were always made to believe you can be whatever you want in this world. You can never sit still. Due to that, you have many different careers, many different worlds you live in and many different lovers...You’ll try anything once!

Traits

Outgoing

Adventurous

Creative

Aspiration

Renaissance Sim

Career

Any 3 (as per Aspiration)

Skills

Flower Arranging

Video Gaming

Fitness

Additional Requirements

Have a love child before marriage

Have 3 failed romances before marriage

Move to 3 different worlds in lifetime

Generation 4 - Cancer / Grey - The Intuitive Gossip

You want a nice and normal life, no surprises, everything as it should be and in the right order. You want to settle down, and live an uneventful life. But when do plans ever work out like that? You earn a university degree in something sensible, and you follow that route with determination; however, you’ve always been described as psychic by those who know you, and you always have the dirt on the town folk. Finally, late in your life you understand that this ability can bring in some serious cash. You switch to the social media career and always work from home to protect your identity from those who’s secrets you spill. Who would ever suspect you, the nerdy Brainiac who barely speaks up? xoxo, Sims Girl

Traits

Neat

Unflirty

Materialistic

Aspiration

Academic

Career

Initially something connected to Degree, but switch to Social Media (Internet Personality Branch) in late Adult Life Stage

Skills

Logic

Writing

Media Production

Additional Requirements

Attend university (Business or History degree)

Change careers when in Adult life stage to Social Media Career

Always work from home

Marry for convenience and not love (not attracted to partner)

Have no relationship with child/ren

Generation 5 - Leo / Gold - The Romantic Star

Your life growing up was boring. Your mom and dad were the least romantic people ever and everything was cookie-cutter perfect (and devoid of any emotion) growing up. So, from a young age, you throw yourself into movies and get lost in the romantic, passionate and fairy tale aesthetic of it all! You move to Del Sol Valley straight after high school to try and make it as a big star and start your own fairy tale! But it turns out not all fairy tales are perfect, and you have to kiss a few frogs to find your prince/ss!

Traits

Cheerful

Self Absorbed

Romantic

Aspiration

World Famous Celebrity

Career

Actor/Actress

Skills

Acting

Singing

Additional Requirements

Move to Del Sol Valley straight after high school with very little money (10K max)

Cheat on 2 different partners

Date both genders

Generation 6 - Virgo / Beige - The Critical Perfectionist

Owing to your famous parent, you always attended red carpet events with the best food imaginable. Let’s face it, you always thought your taste was just a touch above everyone else. And when you’re good at something never do it for free! Your dream is to criticize others and earn a pay check for it.For you, life is about experiences, perfection and having something to show for it in the bank account. You want to wear and eat the finest things!

Traits

Perfectionist

Genius

Snob

Aspiration

Fabulously Wealthy

Career

Critic (Food)

Skills

Gourmet Cooking

Mixology

Additional Requirements

Marry a famous sim or a sim at the top of their career

Have a house worth over 100K

Have 1 child

Generation 7 - Libra / Pink - The Classy Advocate

You grew up in a very classy home, with only the finest things. You believe in the value of beautiful art, intellectual discussions and physical beauty. From behind the thick, gilded window panes in your childhood mansion, you always witness the injustices of the world and felt a calling to help those without a voice.

Traits

Materialistic

Art Lover

Outgoing

Aspiration

Party Animal

Career

Law (Any Branch)

Skills

Charisma

Violin

Additional Requirements

Attend university, join the debate guild

Marry a sim you find extremely attractive

Volunteer weekly

Own art pieces worth over 20K

Generation 8 - Scorpio / Black - The Beautiful Empath

You’re a sweetheart deep down and you find beauty in all things physical. Where your parents saw beauty in materialistic things, you see beauty in yourself and others. You always dreamed of perfecting your own body as a testament to your intense passion towards your goals. You meet a beautiful partner along the way and together, you create a perfect image of love, beauty and emotional intensity.

Traits

Jealous

Active

Romantic

Aspiration

Soulmate

Career

Athlete (Bodybuilder career)

Skills

Fitness

Mischief

Additional Requirements

Marry a sim seen as extremely attractive

Have 1 child minimum and encourage active side (from toddler to teenager)

Go on a date night with your partner every weekend

Generation 9 - Sagittarius / Purple - The Traveling Spy

You’re fun to be around and can never sit still. You’ve used this to your advantage to lure people into trusting you, and you have friends all over the world! Little do they know, you’re a secret agent with some top-tier missions to accomplish. Your passion for love and romance means you have a few slip ups and made some (unexpectedly great) mistakes along the way. You can’t ever be tied down. Keep it moving, blend in with the locals and you’ll never get caught!

Traits

Non-Committal

Adventurous

Cheerful

Aspiration

Serial Romantic

Career

Secret Agent (Any Branch)

Skills

Comedy

Photography

Additional Requirements

Live in Mt. Komorebi and Sulani in lifetime – dabble in local culture and activities

Have children from both of the above worlds with one of the locals

Never marry

Generation 10 - Capricorn / Brown - The Idealistic Pragmatist

You’re smart – scary smart. You are a quiet, intelligent soul and you love to lose yourself in the mountains when life gets overwhelming. You approach life with military intelligence, routine and perfection and never thought you could meet someone who cracked through your tough exterior. When you do meet them, you marry them after the first few dates and start your family. Your partner adores you and your family and quits their career to take care of the large brood of kids and animals in your rustic, outdoorsy home.

Traits

Loner

Genius

Loves the Outdoors

Aspiration

Extreme Sports Enthusiast

Career

Military

Skills

Pet Training

Logic

Additional Requirements

Marry a spouse after a maximum of 3 dates

Have spouse quit job to raise children

Have 4 children minimum

Go Climbing/Hiking or do Snow Sports every weekend

Generation 11 - Aquarius / Blue - The Outspoken Activist

You grew up with nature and animals taking preference over technology and humans. Therefore, you are sickened by the state of the world that humans have created and you decide to pursue a green future. You are all for eco living, off the grid lifestyle and conserving the environment for generations to come.

Traits

Vegetarian

Green Fiend

Creative

Aspiration

Eco Innovator

Career

Civil Designer (Green Technician)

Skills

Fabrication

Logic

Additional Requirements

Live in Evergreen Harbor (all 3 neighborhoods) and convert all to Green Eco Footprint

Live off the grid at least once

Adopt children and animals until household limit of 8 is reached

Generation 12 - Pisces / Light Green - The Creative Overthinker

You’re a dreamer and you want to heal everyone. Due to your parent’s ideals growing up, you want to make a difference... but you also want to create art and move souls. You tend to internalize your dreams and fears and as a result often feel misunderstood. You move around as a doctor trying to heal the world and as a result, love is last on the list of accomplishments.

Traits

Creative

Gloomy

Loner

Aspiration

Painter Extraordinaire

Career

Doctor

Skills

Painting

Baking

Additional Requirements

Have no friends apart from future spouse

Gain fame through paintings

Marry for the first time as an elder

Never have children

Live in all worlds through lifetime

#sims4 #sims 4 legacy #sims4 challenge #zodiac challenge #ts4 legacy #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #lilsimsie

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demwhore · 5 years ago

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Maniac (Mark Lee.)

pairing | Mark Lee x Female Reader | greaser! mark | soc! reader description: After a sudden drink at the West side with your soc friends, alcohol kicked in your senses; showed up at your ex boyfriend’s home, alone, carrying a shovel and a rose. words | 4k genre | young adult fiction, smut warnings | language, drinking, scenes of making-out, violence. this is a problematic fic because it is based on the novel “The Outsiders” a/n | I do not condone the actions depicted in this fic. This is written for fictional purposes only. I dedicate this to @xuxi-rolls [i love u, thank u] to @hyuck-me [hi min thank you!] and @bumblebeenct [thank you for proofreading the trash ver.] this was rushed. i apologize. taglist | @renjunlite @mjlkau @xyyydream @jungcity ps | my muse for this is maniac by conan grey

🔙 main masterlist

There are always two sides of everything. Two sides to every coin. For example, in a neighborhood; there is an east side and a west side. There is a fine line between the two, and that is exactly the world you live in. You are a Soc (pronounced as Soches, or short for Socials), as fancy as it is, that is what they call it. This meant that you lived on the west side of the neighborhood; together with other wealthy Socs. Mainly the jocks, cheerleaders, or snobs. The Socs despised the Greasers, so much— to the point, after seeing one, they would either end up slashing out each other’s throats with their fancy switchblades or to get into an old-fashioned fist-fight.

Greasers. One world but it possesses a lot of definitions. Quite notorious. They were known to be problematic, criminals, a bunch of chaotic guys who always flunk their classes just to smoke and drink, hair literally drenched in grease with leather jackets and ripped jeans. A typical James Dean. They are situated on the East side of the neighborhood. Considered poor, not low-class but, poor, poorer than any Socs, poorer than any of the people alive. They merely survive by committing crimes, or when they are lucky enough— jobs at gasoline stations.

Greasers. People who have trouble chasing after their tails, and adding to the list, they really have a distinct vocabulary. Which always surprises you. “What’ya try’na do Soc?”

Greasers were known for their bad reputation but even so, you ended up falling in love with one. His name was Mark Lee. It all started when you were about to head home from a night out at the drive-in theater, when Jacob, a Soc that also went to your school, ended up harassing you to be his girl. Wanting to butter your ‘muffins’ since they weren’t buttered at all. You didn’t know what he was trying to imply, but it didn’t seem right and appeared insulting on your part. Mark’s gang happened to cross the path you were taking, and heard your distressed yells of ‘stay away from me’ that Jacob did not seem to understand. The first meeting with Mark wasn’t that extravagant like how prince Philip met Aurora in the forest, it was rather dark; full of sweat, blood, and switchblades. You heard the yells of Mark’s gang telling him to stay the hell out of the Soc’s business but he could see that Jacob just wouldn’t stop and you were on the verge of tears. Mark knew what to do. He had Jacob down in a second. Jacob tried to fight to get loose; he even did for a few seconds before Mark tightened his hold. Jacob laid still, swearing at the greasers between gasps. Then, things turned bad, when Jacob stabbed Mark’s shin with his switchblade. In the end however, it was Jacob who went home ruined and blue.

“Are you all right, uhm, Socs?” Soc.

You nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

He rubbed your hair, “You’re an okay kid, Soc. Always have someone, some, er--soc join you on yer’ way home.”

Then he left with his greaser friends. Mark was handsome. You hated to admit, but he was. He was the same type of handsome as a young Johnny Depp, if more, he was gorgeous. His hair was jet black, with the signature grease lingering within. He wore his worn-out denim jeans with a leather jacket that complemented his white shirt underneath. You couldn't see his face clearly, but it was full of cuts and bruises. Yes, they were the guys your parents warned you about. Cigarettes and switchblades.

Yet you couldn’t stop thinking about the greaser. You absentmindedly poured toothpaste on your hand instead of your toothbrush; mind too occupied by the young boy you met. You had mentally slapped yourself for being so timid, you could’ve done something nice to treat him for saving you from Jacob, or at least ask for his name. It made you insane, head empty except for thoughts of the greaser. You felt hopeless but fate had other plans, since you both crossed paths, again. This time in a local diner, specifically by the concession stand. You insisted on paying for his strawberry shake and from that interaction, the greaser boy stole your heart. You exchanged smiles and names. You felt conscious under his gaze, intimidated even, but Mark proved that their tough appearance was just a façade. Behind the rugged persona hides a boy; who is carefree, a greaser boy that loved you more than his switchblade and comb.

The months you had together were paradise. He never forced you to embrace the greaser culture, and he’d let you do your thing. You were still the awkward Soc girl who wears beige cardigans over a fitted dress shirt and plaid skirt. Eloquent. Articulated. But ever since you’d started hanging out more on the east side, the soc in you started to fade and Mark didn’t know if he should be boasting with pride or afraid. You learn to spat at people, (which made your mother mortified as to where the hell did you would’ve learnt that? You just answered her with a meek smile) both literally and figuratively, the latter one because you’d seen Mark spit as a smoker and the aftermath is an itchy throat. You were staying up late and the alibi you’d use was studying at Amber’s house. The truth is, you were with Mark and his friends at the drive-in theater, making out till the guards kicked you out.

The memory wasn’t vague. But the movie flashed by the theater’s projector was ‘Rebel without a case’ starring James Dean. It was a good movie, indeed, but you are busy with Mark’s lip at the time. He was more entertaining than the movie you had paid to see. Straddling his lap you found your hands detangling his heavily styled hair. You felt his hands cupping your ass as your lips practically crashed into each other. Teeth to teeth, tongue interlacing. You were timid, but with Mark, it suddenly went away.

Pulling away momentarily you asked “Are you gonna wham, bam, thank you sweetie, me?”

His brows furrowed as his hot breath fanned your face, “What?”

You grinned, “Nothing.”

Mark rolled his eyes, his hands leaving your body as he struggled to remove something from the car’s cabin. He handed you a rose, and you found the ends of your lips twitching. You took the rose from him and shifted your attention to him. His lips were slightly parted, lips red, hickeys all over his neck. Mark was a guy full of troubles yet he was so charming. There was just something in him that made you feel enchanted, maybe it was his candidness. He doesn’t deny that he isn’t the right guy for you but he is willing to change his bullshit, just for you. The gesture made your heart turn somersaults.

“Where did you get this from?”

“Well, I’m a penny short and I oughta buy you chocolates but I’ll be late for our date. Stolen these when old man Ricky wasn’t looking.” He admitted with a frown. Your brows arched up, you weren’t expecting a blunt answer yet there he is. He looked adorable with his eyes practically apologizing for his wrong-doings. A surprised laugh came out of your lips. The laughter from you urged him to continue on talking.

“I might not be rich as the socs in your place but you have my heart and dick.”

You chortled at his statement, “Is that the answer to my statement a while ago?”

“What? The wham, bam?”

“Yeah.”

“Yea, It’ll be cool to play here with peewee.” Mark named his car “Peewee’, a 1950s Chevrolet, 4 door bel air. His lips met yours again, but this time he exerted dominance, cupping the back of your head to pull you closer to him. His other thumb stroked your thighs lightly. Mark’s kiss was deep and passionate. The world around you seems to crumble as you are too absorbed with his existence. He nibbled onto your lip, before brushing over the spot with his sinful tongue. The kiss grew urgent, his hands gripping your waist tightly carefully grinding your figure onto his lap. It made him hard and you were already soaking in arousal. He groped your ass making you yelp. You wanted this. To drown in Mark’s kisses. Mark repositioned his seat to make more room for you before he connected his lips again with yours. His touch was innocent, feathery, slightly climbing its way to your dress to touch your inner thighs.

You felt goosebumps all over your skin. His intimate touches, turned your whimpers into quiet moans against his lips, which in turn, made Mark bring one of his slim fingers to your mouth, silencing you.

“You oughta keep your voice down, baby.” He mumbled on your lip. The end of his pink lips tugging a smirk. Despite his warning, you kept going, this time trying to hold into sanity, as the feeling of Mark’s erection sent chills to your spine. You shivered when Mark’s finger wandered to the inner part of your thigh. You immediately pushed your legs apart, allowing his fingers to cup the apex of your thighs, pressing a digit onto your soaked pussy. He played with the elastic band of your panties, then carefully touched your slit. You clit throbbing and eager for his touch.

“You’re soaking wet, damn, all for me?” He cooed. His voice low, lips tickling your ear, “Does it feel good? You wanted to be touched like this?”

“Y-yes, please k-keep going.” You whined, while frantically searching for something to grasp. You arched your hips to get more access to his torturing touches.

He gave you a sly smirk, “I will, because you asked so sweetly, baby.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips. Then, he immediately slid in his index finger into your entrance. A sigh left your mouth as you felt your walls stretch; something you’ve never felt before. “Do you feel uncomfortable?”

If a word could explain what you were feeling at the moment, uncomfortable isn’t the correct word to describe it; rather, euphoric. Mark, at this point, had fully inserted his finger to the knuckles. “No, n-no, keep going, p-please.” You whispered as you took a hold of Mark’s shoulders and gripped them for dear life; knuckles turning white. You choked out when you felt his fingers found a spot inside you. Bingo. Mark chuckled quietly, running his tongue over his lips, the sight before him was divine. You, squirming under his touch while he played with your cunt. He prodded the same exact spot again, this time you had to bury your head onto his shoulders to keep yourself quiet.

“Jackpot, baby.”

“A-ah it f-feels good!”

You squeezed your eyes shut letting the waves of pleasure soak you. You arched your hips to meet his fingers. Letting yourself feel. After one digit, Mark carefully inserted his middle finger, just beside his index. You gasped, it was an unknown feeling; your body twitched momentarily from the sudden sting. Mark met your neglected clit and rubbed it; the sting fading out. You gritted your teeth, ragged breaths leaving your mouth. You felt the arousal building inside you; ready to leave your body. If it wasn’t for Mark’s lips, silencing you, the whole theater would know what you two were doing. He planted a kiss to your cheeks, “You cumming, baby?”

The movie was still rolling, but to you it was just pure noise. You are too engrossed, head clouded, muddled with pleasure. Jim Stark said his great lines, ‘If I had one day when I didn't have to be all confused and I didn't have to feel that I was ashamed of everything’. Mark played with your clit again, his digits busy poking your g-spot, you knew, you were on the edge of coming. Mark pressed your body into his and you trembled against his lap. Your walls tightened against Mark’s fingers. With one last rub, your arousal came, he pulled his fingers away from you. Your panties, now soaking wet. You made a mental note to throw those out to the washer as soon as you go home. Your body collapsed against Mark’s chest. He raised his fingers; wet and glistening with your juice. You felt your cheeks flare when you saw how he popped his fingers onto his mouth, leaving a satisfying groan at the taste of you. You covered your face in embarrassment and felt Mark’s chest vibrate with laughter. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you more.”

It was fun while it lasted. A typical bad boy and good girl, two teenagers in love. The relationship was almost as perfect for you. You never had arguments with him, because he was so chill about everything you do. Yet then, in the blink of an eye, the relationship turned into a complete fiasco.

Maybe you were too confident that people wouldn’t stick their noses in other people’s business, but they proved you wrong. You were oblivious to the fact that everyone’s eyes were set upon you. Eventually a rumour circulated around the school you and Mark were attending.

“Did you hear about Y/N, girls?”

It piqued your ears. You stopped your tracks to hear the answer, “Her and Mark, that greaser boy, oh God, he’s crazy and drives her mad!”

You were stunned at the outburst. The only person who knows about your relationship was Amber, other than that, your mouth was completely sealed. You opened your locker and grabbed your books. Just as you slammed the door shut, you came face to face with Avril, the school’s queen bee and apparently, Jacob’s new toy. She gave you a sly smirk.

“I never knew you’d be the type to date a greaser. That’s just out of your boundaries, eh?”

You raised your brow, completely facing her, “How did you know about that?”

Her smirk widens, showing sets of teeth with a slight smudge of her violet lipstick, “Good ol’ boy Jacob saw you two at the local drive-in. Next day, he had the rumors circulating like shit.”

You folded your arms to your chest, “Listen, what you’ve heard are all just rumours.”

“Oh yeah? Your brother’s gang happened to be with Jacob that time.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. It was now painfully clear; the night you came home, your brother, Jaehyun, wasn’t already home. When he returned, two hours later, he was panting heavily, cuts all over his face, and he was carrying his favorite baseball bat drenched with mud and a liquid colored crimson; blood. You seized her collar and the people around you gasped at your sudden movements. You hissed while she struggled to remove your grip, “Where the hell is Jacob?”

Avril sniggered, “And why should I tell you? So you can save your wimpy little greaser boyfriend? Well news flash he’s a maniac!”

You held her collar more tightly, holding the fabric close to her neck. Avril gasped for air, her arms flailing. She gave in and choked out, “Locker room.” You pushed her away and her body flung against the lockers. The other students jumped away in fear. You glanced over your shoulder, “He isn’t a maniac Avril. He is more of a gentleman than your misogynistic boyfriend will ever be,”. You trailed away, planning on beating Jacob up with one of your thick algebra books. You could still recall the moves Jaehyun had taught you. Aim at the jaw, because that is the human’s shut off button, and that is what you intend to do.

It didn’t take you long to find Jacob. After a series of turns, you arrived at the boy’s locker room. As you entered, there were few catcalls heard, but you chose to ignore— hey ya, sexy, as it was pointless— boys with their foul words because they never think with their minds. Jacob stood out among the other lads in the room. He was tall, had blonde hair, icy-blue eyes, a jock, and while it was hard to admit, he was really handsome. But he wasn't the right guy, and you were sure, as he never met your standards. His icy blue eyes widened at the sight of your marching figure, the ends of his lips tugging upward. Feeling triumphant as if he’d won his recent football match.

“Do you wish to continue our little rendezvous?” He gave you a lazy grin. You stopped your tracks and tilted your head a little bit higher to match his gaze. If books could give an exact definition of Jacob, he could be compared with Ares, the god of war; As Homer called him, murderous, bloodstained, the incarnate curse of mortals. But strangely, a coward, too, who bellows with pain and runs away when he is wounded. Jacob only knew how to fight, it's a giveaway, with his nice fit and physique. But he plays dirty and hides underneath a girl’s skirt when he knows he fucked up. He is too much of a coward, never using his brain, rather letting his dick think for him. Him and Mark have a gargantuan difference, and for that, loving Mark, was the biggest choice you have never chosen to regret.

“What is this all about Jacob?”

He ran a finger through his slightly damp, golden locks. His brows shot upward, his lip jutting out, as if proving to you, what he did was something you should never be mad about. He shrugged, “I just made a psa.” He leaned down to match your height, “Soc girls ain’t for greasers. I was simply just saving you.”

“You aren’t my dad so you don’t go dictating me what to do and what not to do!”

He raised his left brow, “Hell yeah? I cannot accept the fact you chose him over me, Y/N! Are you fucking insane?”

“No. But I am capable of choosing the people who are best for me.”

“Betcha brother didn’t take the news nicely.”

You gave him a glare and jammed the algebra book to his face. The reason why Jacob spread those malicious rumors about Mark is because he couldn’t accept the fact that you have chosen grease over money. He had an ego to protect and so, he went lashing out, ruining someone else’s image. You stormed out of the locker room to search for your brother. He must’ve gone mad at this point. The thought gave you chills, Jaehyun beating Mark to death. You could recall how he wore his adorning rings earlier in the morning before you both left the house. Those rings had helped Jaehyun beat someone into pulp, almost killing his foe with it. Bullshit. You had algebra at eight, but you have chosen to flunk it. Worried to death, all you could think of was mark.

Jaehyun seized Mark’s now bloodsoaked white t-shirt. Jaehyun felt extreme frustration, he couldn’t control the shaking of his fists as well as the baring of his teeth. Jaehyun made a beeline for Mark’s jaw, and not content with the results; he made another uppercut, straight into the greaser’s gut. Johnny released his hold on Mark’s shirt. At that moment, Mark couldn’t think straight; it was as if his mind had been a finished puzzle and Jaehyun’s assault had it jumbled to pieces. The greaser clenched his stomach; his head was throbbing like hell. He could almost taste the bitter, salty taste of bile. Fucking hell. Jaehyun surely shook the greaser’s system, like literally.

Jaehyun held his wrist and twirled it. He ignored the stinging sensation on his cheek. That wasn’t one of his concerns. His cheeks could wait but his fist couldn't. What Jaehyun hated and was concerned about the most was having a greaser fuck with his sister. It was just an overall no for him. Also, the fact that Jacob blurted out the news while he was in the midst of a football game just made him more of a misanthropic jock wanting to choke the hell out the guy who played with his sister.

Jaehyun breathed. “Stay the hell out of my sister’s life, greaser.”

Mark spat out blood. His voice was hoarse. “Why should I do that?”

“Because I said so.”

“Hell no, soc. I ain’t doing what’cha want, just because y’all want me to.”

Jaehyun’s patience was paper thin and the fact that his day wasn’t getting any better was wearing him down. “You’re testing my patience, huh greaser?”

Jaehyun nodded towards Johnny and the center gripped both of Mark’s shoulders. Mark gulped hard, trying to wiggle his way out of Johnny’s grip, but the guy was just big, he stood no chance.

Jaehyun gritted his teeth. Mark’s eyes trailed down the shiny metal Jaehyun was holding, a switchblade. Jaehyun twisted the blade elegantly in his hands. Mark never felt fear in his life, it was the emotion he had long forgotten. But he stood there, defenseless, with the socs dominating him, all he could do was to wait for his fate, or his death. “Stay the fuck out of my sister’s life, greaser.”

A girl's voice shook the three. “Jaehyun! Stop!”

You stood there disheveled, as if you had just run a few kilometers. Your blouse is crumpled, the first buttons were well, unbuttoned. Your chest rises with every exhale you make. Your eyes trailed at Mark then towards your brother. “Jaehyun, stop.”

Jaehyun glared at you. He never looked at you like that, ever.

His tone was strict. “Go back to your classes.”

“Jaehyun, I-”

“I said. Go. back. To. your. Classes.”

You stood there dumbfounded, staring back at your fuming brother. Then, he yelled at you, snapping you out from your daze.

You fucked up.

Years. You are not allowed to go out alone anymore. The last contact you had with Mark was the time, he and Jaehyun were ‘talking’. No proper goodbyes, no proper closure. You had blamed Jacob for all of that. You were beyond frustrated, you missed the boy who made you feel like a human, alive, loved. But, now he only exists in your memories. Markie and his goofish car, peewee.

Present time.

“Hey Y/N!”

You squinted. Madonna’s songs played loudly in the local diner. Your vision blurred while trying to find the familiar figure of Amber.

“Hey Y/N!”

“Whaaaaat?!”

You leaned on the diner’s counter. The alcohol had taken a toll on you and all you wanted to do was to dance the night away with Material Girl playing loudly in the background. You pumped your fist in the air, head bobbing up and down, you started to dance carelessly towards the dance floor. Having to drink alcohol had your appendages work on their own. You leaned too far and had your body bumping on someone else’s.

You slurred. “Sorrrry.”

Amber cursed under her breath. “This girl is unbelievable.”

You continued on, singing on the top of your lungs, “I’m a material giiiiirl!”

Amber mustered her strength to grab you out of the dance floor, and to avoid you practically flailing your body towards the other college party-goers.

I made it through the wilderness. Somehow I made it through..

You shoved your body through the crowd to sluggishly approach your car. Head empty, intoxicated with alcohol and all you can think of was Mark.

You pulled over the familiar neighborhood. The darkest pits of the society. You eyed the shovel in your trunk and the rose, a random guy handed to you earlier. You approached the door and pounded harshly on the door.

The door opened with a loud hiss. And the guy you’ve been yearning for, stood before you. He eyes the rose and the shovel in your hands. A slow smirk painted his lips.

“What’ya doin’ here?”

“Mark.”

“I’m done with you. Cause people like you always want back what they can't have. But I'm past that and you know that. So you should turn back to your rat pack, tell 'em trash.”

#cznnet #nct-writers #mark lee #nct127 #nct mark #nct dream #nct u #nctwriters #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct smut #greaser! au

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hermits-that-craft · 4 years ago

Text

Love Run, The Song You Know's Begun.

"Though some would harm you, none - not one - no none Would raise to you a hand nor thumb Not while by you I stand and hum" - The Amazing Devil, Love Run Reprise --- The afterlife. Choices. Broken Promises.

Cross posted on ao3. Link in reblog

He wakes up in a meadow, surrounded by lilies, marigolds, poppies and white carnations. He blinks slowly, looking up at the sky. It’s synthetic. Perfectly painted. The sky is a beautiful baby blue, and he can see the paint strokes in the clouds.

He isn’t angry though. He can’t find it in himself to be angry. He hardly remembers who he is.

Where he is.

He stands, running his hand through his hair. He’s wearing a long sleeved white shirt, with a red collar and arms. His pants are beige, pockets filled with rocks and faded photos. His heart yearns, but he doesn’t move, the flowers growing through his feet and anchoring him to the meadow. Blood pools at his feet, runs in front of his eyes. His skin is littered black and blue.

But he isn’t in pain.

He can’t move.

“You have a choice” The universe whispers to him, gently in the breeze. “You can go back, or you can move forward. You were ripped from that world too soon.”

It’s regret, what's on her voice. At least, thats what he thinks it is.

“Why can’t I remember anything?” He asks her. “What’s my name? Why am I bleeding?”

“You have a choice,” The universe reiterates. “You can go back, or you can move forward. I cannot tell you about your past. I will not tell you of your future. This choice is entirely yours.”

“How will I know?”

“You will feel it. You will feel the pull towards one option or another.”

“What if,” He pauses, uncertain. “What if I don’t want to choose?”

“Then you will be split between both. Half will move forward. Half will go back.” The universe seems to want to say something, as though she believes that she is leaving something out that is important.

“Can I stay here?” His voice is small, uncertain. “I don’t want to be hurt again. I don’t want to be an adult anymore.”

A woman appears in the meadow. Her dark, shoulder length hair flows gently in the breeze, golden cloak swaying with the grass. She wears a black, sleeveless top and black cargo pants, alongside leather boots. She turns to him, and her eyes look like the stars. She isn’t Clara - the emptiness of the void does not exist here - but he knows her.

He’s seen her in the photos on someone’s walls. Heard about her in another’s tales. Felt her in a person’s embrace.

She is the universe.

She is Kristen.

She walks to him silently, tears welling in her eyes as she pulls him into a hug. It’s warm, the warmth he craved from before, but not dangerously so. He isn’t cold anymore. She holds him as he breaks. He doesn’t know his name, he doesn’t know what he left behind. He doesn’t know where he is or what he is. But he knows her.

“I can’t keep you here.” She whispers to him. “My boy, my son, how I wish I could. Someone awaits you on both sides. You should go to one of them.”

“But what about you?”

“I will join you when the last member of our family joins you.”

“Mum-”

“You have to decide, now.” She pulls away from him, and wipes the tears from his eyes. “Where will you go?”

“I can’t. Both?” He watches her with sad eyes. “Will I remember both?”

“When half of you decides to move forward, then you will remember what the half that moved back will remember.”

“Then both.” He says, and Kristen - the universe - smiles at him. She is kind.

“Go back to sleep. When you wake up, all will be well.”

----

Ghostinnit wakes in his dirt house, floating just off of the bed. He sits, confused. What does he remember?

“TO REVOKE THE CITIZENSHIP-” “Let’s be the bad guys, Tommy.” “I don’t give a FUCK about spirit.” “Let’s blow that motherfucker to smithereens” “Sorry doesn’t cut it. “The only universal language is violence.” “Down with the revolution boys, it was never meant to be.” “I wanna see WHITE FLAGS!” “We’re fucked, we were fucked the minute we were thrown out.” “He would drop us at the SECOND he realised we’re not in the lead anymore.” “Do you know what happens to traitors, Tubbo?” “L’Manburg can be independent, but L’Manburg can’t be FREE.” “The most logical thing to do. For Tommy to be… Exiled. From L’Manburg.”

Oh.

So that’s what he remembers.

Ghostinnit doesn’t know who he can trust. He remembers dying, painful, slow and full of fear, but he doesn’t remember much from between doomsday and death. Perhaps he was happy? Or at least, not scared? He shouldn’t trust anyone, just in case.

Ghostinnit floats out of his house, ‘walking’ towards Eret’s castle. As much as Tommy wants to hate the king for betraying L’Manburg, Tommy remembers seeing Eret fight alongside him during doomsday. Go head to head with Dream and Techno and Philza. The admin and Tommy’s family. Eret fought to help him. So Tommy should be able to at least forgive the king, or steal from him.

He’ll make up his mind on the way there.

Ghostinnit floats, not paying much attention to his surroundings, until he stops. He’s not sure what made him stop, but he looks at the flower garden that grows around Eret’s base. Wild poppies grow on the lawn, and Tommy sits down, picking them. He doesn’t know what possess him to make the flower crown, but it doesn’t feel right until he stops.

A flower crown made of poppies.

A crown of blood.

Tommy holds the flower crown gently, taking great care not to bend it wrong. He floats into the grand castle, wandering until he hears a shout.

“He’s gone, Tubbo!” It’s Jack, his mind happily supplies. He has a few bad memories of the man, he recognises the shout, but he doesn’t have any recent memories of him, so he surely could trust Jack! “He’s gone and the server is thriving!”

“How could you be so heartless!” Tubbo screams, and Ghostinnit floats over to the doorway. Niki and Jack stand to one side, idly watching as Eret holds Tubbo back. Ghostinnit’s friend (ex-friend? They did have a falling out) is struggling against Eret’s grip, screaming and thrashing. Phil and Techno are there, both glaring at Jack and Niki. Tommy doesn’t understand it.

A casket lies on a pedestal, the L’Manburg flag draped over it. A soldier's burial, for Wilbur perhaps. Tommy knows that getting his body from the prison would be a hassall. One that those who hate him wouldn’t go through, even if those people were his father and brother. Sam and a sheep woman stand guard over it, though their eyes are clouded with pain. Quackity and Sapnap weap, Karl holding onto them protectively. Perhaps not Wilbur’s funeral then, he doesn’t remember Wilbur being close to either of the two, though he might have become close in the happy memories.

“What's wrong?” Ghostinnit asks quietly, floating into the room. The crowd looks at him, and Ghostinnit wants to curl up in the air. There are too many people looking at him, they’re angry, they’re going to kill him-

“Tommy?” The sheep woman’s voice breaks, and somewhere in his mind he digs up a name. Puffy. “Oh Void-”

“You’re Puffy, right?” His voice is small. “I don’t have any memories of you, so you must have been a good memory.”

“What?” Eret chokes out. “I thought-”

“I only have bad memories. I guess the universe wanted me to make better memories.” Ghostinnit shrugs, though he can’t quite make the panic subside. He wishes everyone would just look away-

“You look like shit.” Jack says, glaring at him.

“Well, I was beaten to death by my abuser.” Ghostinnit shoots back, though he floats back from the man. Something is off about him. He doesn’t seem quite right. “And I’m sorry for not exactly having enough time to look at myself. I wanted to come see Eret. Who’s funeral is this?”

“It’s yours.” Sam says, bowing his head. “I’m sorry, Tommy. I’m so sorry-”

“You didn’t kill me.” Ghostinnit says. “You did what you had to do.”

“We’ll bring you back.” Tubbo says, his eyes full of promises he can’t keep. “I don’t care what we have to do. What deals we have to make.”

“Don’t.” Ghostinnit shakes his head. “The revive book isn’t real. I don’t want to come back. I’m only here because I’m waiting.”

“For what?” Techno asks, and Quackity glares at Ghostinnit’s older brother, who ignores Tubbo’s wails. “What are you waiting for?”

“Whoever Kristen says she’s waiting for.” Ghostinnit shrugs. “Then I’ll go back to the meadow.”

And with that, Ghostinnit turns to leave. He’ll talk to Eret after the ceremony. After his funeral. After all, he doesn’t want to watch as his father and brother’s faces fall with the memory of his mother. He doesn’t want to listen to Tubbo and Puffy’s wails. He just wants to let Eret know that he was forgiven. He places the flower crown on a table underneath a mirror, somehow having made his way into one of Eret’s bathrooms.

He sees his reflection in the mirror, and stares at it in shock. The black eye that he was given as he was beaten to death is no more, instead replaced with a bouquet of forget-me-nots. In fact, all of his bruises are the small, blue flowers. The blood that fell from the side of his mouth and his nose is gone, replaced by a poppy. He wears a red sweater, not unlike Ghostbur’s yellow one, or Glatt’s blue one, and his skin is grey.

His eyes are blue though, not whited out like he imagined. Pure blue, no glowing white or void like black. A bright, sky blue.

He smiles, and poppy petals fall from his lips.

---

Tommy hops off the train that left the meadow, a bag over his back. He’s wearing his normal clothes, and the injuries he once sustained are gone. He feels solid, but also not solid. Scared, but not. He remembers everything, and somehow nothing.

He doesn’t know which stop to hop off at, so he doesn’t. He watches as others hop off at different stops, ghosts going to worlds. Perhaps to be reborn, perhaps to meet the afterlife. Maybe even to become a member of someone’s chat.

The train stops, and he’s the only one on his carriage. The end of the line.

Tommy gets off, worry in his gut. What if he doesn’t see Wilbur here? What if Wilbur hopped off at another stop. What if Wilbur doesn’t want to see him?

What if he does see Wilbur?

Tommy looks around the station, hugging himself as he tries to find a familiar face. Maybe Schlatt will be there, maybe not. He’d take anyone , at this point.

He’s the only person who hops off at this station.

“Tommy?” It’s Wilbur’s voice that pulls him out of his frantic searching. “You’re not supposed to be here, the void wasn’t preparing for you. Why are you here?”

Tommy turns, and sees his brother. Still in his Pogtopia coat, but cleaner. Warmer. Tears pool in Tommy’s eyes, and he runs to his brother, getting pulled into a hug. He’s with Wilbur again. He’s nearly home .

“Who hurt you, Toms?” Wilbur sounds choked up, upset. “Why are you here?”

“Dream.” Tommy says quietly. “He beat me to death.”

“I’ll kill him.” Wilbur swears, and Tommy laughs wetly.

“Don’t. I promised that I’d see you soon.” Tommy pulls out of Wilbur’s hug, reaching for his hand. “Let’s go home, I’m tired of being an adult. Let’s be a family again.”

“I’m not supposed to see you for another fifty years.” Wilbur accepts the hand Tommy offers him, smiling sorrowfully. “But I’m glad you hopped off the train here.”

“I wouldn’t have hopped off anywhere else. Too much pull to here.”

They both walk out of the station, hand in hand. Tommy sees the outline of Schlatt and Mexican Dream in the distance, and he knows that his family will come through, sooner or later. He’ll see them around, but for now he’ll spend time with his older brother and his friends.

He has an eternity to spend with everyone else, when they arrive.

#tommyinnit #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp #wilbur soot #angst #sbi fanfic #dsmp fanfic

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readyplayerhobi · 5 years ago

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Flower | 07

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 3.2k

; Warnings: Discussions of death, car accidents, self-destructive behaviour

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I hope you’re all still enjoying :) This series is incredibly easy for me to write due to the short length of each chapter. I love Hoseok in this too! Please reblog and leave me comments/asks if you enjoy it! i want to hear your thoughts on them!

; Flower Masterpost

You felt sick. You genuinely felt like you were going to throw up what little you’d eaten while at work today and you couldn’t tell if it was nerves from tonight or anxiety over having your routine interrupted. Work nights were for going home to your small apartment and curling up with your cat, not going out.

But Hoseok had asked if you’d come over to his tonight and you’d been so flustered over the invite that you’d said yes before even thinking.

Going over to his was something that you’d been lowkey excited about and hoping for for the last two weeks. The two of you had gone on another three dates; bowling, the movie theatre to watch 21 Bridges and then to the theatre again to watch Frozen 2. Which he’d obviously been just delighted to watch.

He’d finally decided that it was time to start having cheaper dates, which meant hanging out at each other’s place. You didn’t know if this meant you were officially dating, like boyfriend-girlfriend dating or that weird adult form of dating where neither of you say anything but it just slowly happens. It kind of felt like number two was happening.

So here you were, stood outside his apartment door at 5:47pm. He’d said to come over for 6, but you didn’t want to knock and look like you were being too eager. As much as you like being early to things, you personally hated it when people were early in turn to you. It stressed you out too much.

Chewing on your lip and fidgeting quietly, you look at your phone screen once more and wonder how long it would be okay to wait before finally knocking. And then suddenly the door was opening, the movement causing you to jump slightly as you shuffled backwards with a hot face.

Hoseok was stood there, grinning at you with grey sweatpants on and an oversized white shirt covering his torso while a black snapback was turned backwards on his head. It made him bizarrely look more frat boy than it did metal head, but the colourful tattoos pushed that impression away.

Actually no, it combined fuckboy and metalhead together until you were suddenly faced with a lethal combo. He should not look that good, really. And then you realised that you were staring, that you had been staring for far too long in fact, as he lets out a quiet laugh.

“How long are you gonna stand there for? Or would rather come in?” He points behind him and you peer around his body, taking in the oddly neutral colour scheme of his place. You weren’t entirely sure what you expected it to look like, but the boring beige he had wasn’t it.

Glancing back, he looks back at his own place before sighing and gesturing you inside, closing the door behind you and taking your coat. “It’s not very interesting to look at but I’m one of those people who’d rather spend their money on other things.”

“Can’t relate. It’s not a home unless it’s filled with a million things for me. Even my desk at work looks like Disney and Pokémon had a baby which then threw up Studio Ghibli.” Hoseok looks at you strangely for a moment before grinning and gently pushing you through to the living room. It’s open plan with the kitchen to the left, the space divided by his large corner sofa while a huge television screen took up pride of place on top of a sleek black glass counter.

You could spy a Playstation 4 beneath and your brow raised momentarily, wondering why he’d never mentioned playing any games. But you didn’t get chance to say anything as he gestured for you to sit on the couch, the plain black pillows looking out of place on the grey fabric.

“What do you want to drink? I got beer...well I got beer and water. So I guess you’ll want water.” He said, more to himself really and you couldn’t help the small smile as he heads back in, a glass of water in his hand and an opened beer for himself. You take a small sip before leaning forward and carefully placing it on his coffee table, looking at the CD coasters in amusement.

“Sorry, I should have something nicer for you to drink.” Hoseok apologises, flopping down onto the couch next to you with a huff and giving you a twisted smile. Shaking your head, you place your bag on the floor before leaning back against the comfortable cushion as well.

“No, it’s okay. I drink water at home too. I know. It’s not interesting.” You shrug at him, biting your lip.

“Doesn’t need to be. If that’s what you like then at least it’s cheap, right?” Snorting, you nod and grin at him shyly, looking down at your hands. Despite getting more comfortable with him over the last two weeks, you were still awkward and didn’t really know how to talk to him properly. It was probably even worse with him than with your friends, because you felt a level of expectation on yourself given the attraction you had to him.

Hoseok doesn't seem to notice though, his attention focused on the remote in his hand as he navigates through his TV to the Netflix app. Glancing to you, he gives a quick smile as he clicks it on.

"Not gonna be too interesting tonight I'm afraid, but I thought we could just...spend some time together and watch some Netflix?" He pauses suddenly, eyes widening as he looks from the screen to you. "I-er-I mean...this is not me trying to like...Netflix and chill or something. It's literally just watching something...call for some takeout, so don't worry."

The horror in his eyes as he evidently realises how his words could be construed makes you giggle lightly, anxiety vanishing for a moment at his blunder. You think it's cute how desperate he is to make you feel comfortable and you find your hand resting on his arm to reassure him.

"I didn't think you were. It's okay. Just...pick something good." He eyes you then, lips pursing before he begins to play with his lip ring. Then he hands you the remote, mentioning to the screen with a gracious smile.

"You can put something on. Though I should make you watch something terrible after you made me watch Frozen last time." You scoff at that, mock outrage as you glare at him before flicking through what's available.

"Riiight, right. Frozen is evidently so terrible that you know all the words to Let It Go apparently. And I didn’t make you do anything! You suggested it because you’d seen everything else"

"...Elsa is badass okay?"

The two of you end up watching a Netflix original film, something that started out okay but ended strange. It had been nice and peaceful though, your random comments and observations causing him to chuckle in amusement rather than annoyance thankfully before he ordered a pizza for you both.

There had been some casual conversation too, spurred on from the film itself and you'd both discussed why it was that so many Netflix films had such terrible endings. Not that either of you had come up with an answer, but it had still been fun.

Even if you'd both had mouthfuls of pepperoni pizza at the time which not only made it harder to speak but also just looked gross. But at least he looked equally gross.

Hoseok had chosen the second film, the time ticking later and later, causing you to glance at the clock in slight anxiety before forcing yourself to stay quiet. It wasn't too late really, and you found yourself unwilling to leave him anyway. You enjoyed being around Hoseok.

It had surprised you to discover this, but he had an easy personality that made it simple to talk to him. He was outgoing and pleasant, willing to engage you in whatever you wanted to talk about while making sure that you were comfortable. You were positive that you somehow hit the jackpot which in turn meant that you were positive it would all go to shit with your luck.

He was slouching down now, legs laid out in front of him as he sat on the bit of the couch that connected to the other half. You were next to him, leaning a little closer than you intended because of his weight causing the cushions to dip.

It gave you a great view of his tattoos though, the arm closest to you bright and vibrant with its colours, eye catching to say the least. You find yourself looking over them more than watching the film curious as to what they were and what they represented.

"You can touch them you know, I'm not gonna freak." Hoseok's voice makes you jerk in surprise, looking up with wide eyes to find him watching you with a carefully neutral expression. You make no movement towards him and he reaches out, resting his hand on your thigh before giving you a small smile.

"I'm serious, I don't mind."

You hesitate for a moment before taking him up on his offer, letting your fingers travel along the intricate art of his arm. It's his right arm, the one with the seeming mish-mash of images and you look each one over in interest.

There's a ghost pirate ship sailing among a sea of ruby red roses with a single gold rose floating amongst them all. The night sky surrounding the ragged grey sails is black, pin pricked with spots of white to signify an array of stars while a full moon turns into a clock, the hands frozen at what looks to be 3:30.

The sea of roses soon shift into a detailed skull, only half of it present while it morphs into a woman's face on the other side, crystal tears dripping down her face that shifts into blood on her chin. Long black hair swooping down past her face forms a lean panther, snarling in a jungle of trees. There's far more detail woven into it all than you’d realised and you admire them with a smile you don't even realise you have.

"These are beautiful. I didn't look too close before, but they're all linked right?" Hoseok is quiet for a moment before nodding, turning his arms to let you see those on his inner wrist. "How long did this take to get all this? I'm guessing you have one on your chest from what I can see and your other arm is gorgeous too."

"I got my first when I was fifteen. Wasn't legal obviously, but I didn't care back then. Didn't care about much to be honest." You frown up at him, noticing the way his face has gone carefully blank and how he stares away from you.

"That's young, right? Isn't the legal age like...eighteen?" He nods in response and you bite your lip carefully. "What do they mean? If you're willing to tell me. You don’t have to, I’d just...like to know?"

You add the last question on quickly, getting the feeling that these tattoos are more personal to Hoseok than you realised.

Sure enough, he stays quiet for a moment before pointing at the half-skull, half-woman. "This represents my sister, Hyeri. The pirate ship is because she was obsessed with pirates back then and the roses because she used to really love them. She thought red roses were romantic but secretly she preferred gold, hence the gold one."

His fingers shifts to the moon-clock. "This...shows the time she died. 3:33pm, September 26th. She was only eleven. I was eight."

You're shocked into silence, one hand moving to your mouth as you feel a wave of sympathy for him that surprises you. He sees your look and gives a half smile shaking his head before he takes your hand and winds your fingers together.

Even with the shock of his words, your stomach flips with nervy excitement at the way he held your hand so easily. It was the first time he'd ever done that, the first time hed extended physical contact beyond the cheek kisses he’d become fond of giving you.

"I got a really shitty tattoo when I was fifteen because I thought it would piss my parents off. I was angry at the world, but it was really because I felt guilty and I was angry that the world wasn't angry at me. You see...I was convinced that I was the reason Hyeri died." You don't have any words to give him then, staring at him in disbelief. He takes your silence as a cue to continue.

"My parents were driving us home from the mall. I was angry because Hyeri had won some stupid toy in an arcade machine and I didn't have anything, you know how it is back then. Kids are stupid over tiny stuff. So I started a fight with her. Mom was leaning back to stop us and dad was shouting...then we get hit by a car. I blamed myself for her dying. Thought it was my fault, because I'd started fighting and distracted my parents." He sighs deeply, squeezing your hand gently.

"I couldn't handle it. I was only a kid you know? I loved Hyeri a lot, looked up to her. And then I had this guilt I'd put on myself. It was a drunk driver who ran a red, it wasn't me but...you can't accept that. Not when you’re that young. My parents weren’t angry with me, kept telling me they didn't blame me and I hated them for that. I didn’t understand why they weren’t angry and that pissed me off even more. So I acted out. I was pretty nasty in school, joined the bad crowd, smoked, drank, did drugs, fucked around. Anything to just...get my parents angry,"

"But they never did. Because they knew that I blamed myself. I refused therapy ‘cos I thought it was lame. Got into college somehow and I started dating this girl freshman year. Older than me, liked bad boys. She was a psych major. I think she liked trying to analyse them or something. But she must have seen I had real issues that could be resolved so she got my friends to encourage me to go to counselling. I did...and I finally came to terms with Hyeri's death. Accepted it wasn't my fault, it was the drunk driver. She would've died even if I hadn’t started the fight. Cleaned up my act after that...apologised to my parents, stopped smoking and doing drugs. Stopped fucking around, discovered computers and metal. Got these tattoos to memorialise her, because I still love her."

A quiet sniff leaves you and he looks up in surprise, face breaking into a gentle smile as he sees the tears falling down your face. You hadn't been able to stop them, the pain in his voice at his sister's death pulling at your heartstrings and then his agony at coming to terms with it all.

"I'm sorry Hoseok, that sounds awful." You get out, lips quivering and he chuckles softly, reaching up and wiping away at your tears.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm at peace with it all now and all that jazz. Now I get tattoos ‘cos I like them. And I have a great relationship with my parents now, I swear." Using your free hand, you trace over the woman's face, his sisters face you presume with a quiet reverence.

"They're beautiful. Really. I'm glad...that you made something nice out of it all." Hoseok snorts softly, letting his thumb stroke the back of your hand while his other hand cups your cheek gently.

The film is completely forgotten in the background, but neither of you seem to care as he stares deeply into your eyes.

"Thank you. I'm glad you like them. My other sleeve is just cos I thought space dragons would be cool." That makes you break out into a series of giggles, bending closer to him slightly from the force of your laughter. Hoseok keeps you there when you try to move back, deep brown eyes staring directly into yours while you feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips.

"You're very beautiful. Have I told you that?" You can feel your body heating, unsure whether to be embarrassed or run away from his sudden compliment. The only response you can do is to glance down, away from his charged gaze.

"You are, really," He whispers and you make a noise, unsure what it was but not wanting this moment to end either. "...this might seem a little weird given the topic we've just discussed...but can I kiss you? I've been wanting to…"

Oh god, oh god. He wants to kiss you. This disgustingly attractive man who could command the attention of any woman if he tried hard enough wanted to kiss you. Was he mad? Had he thought this through? Surely he was going to regret this, there were far better women out there than you.

And yet your head nods of its own accord, movement foreign to you suddenly and it's like you're not in your body. Not aware of the bubbling nausea from the swirling emotions in your stomach and veins, not aware of the tension in your body or the sudden way you feel hot and flustered.

Hoseok doesn't say anything though, just smiles before leaning forward. The space between you both is even shorter than you'd realised and he's kissing you. His lips, so soft and warm, are pressed against your own and you're frozen in shock, desire and indecision.

The feeling of his solid lip ring against your mouth is foreign, and yet it's what brings you back to life. Suddenly you feel everything in your body, too much. Like your mind is being overloaded with sensation and emotions, all focused on the fact that Jung Hoseok is kissing you.

And you like it. In fact, you love it.

Before he can move away, you shyly reach and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him a bit closer. He grins into the kiss, breaking the contact slightly and letting you both breath before he's shifting, tugging you closer till you're laid out on the couch, body pressed to his side.

A gasp leaves you at the feel of his solid, warm body against your own and he takes full advantage of it, slipping his tongue into your mouth with the practised ease of someone who has done this many times. You like that too.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself ignore the stresses, anxieties and worries that plague your mind so often. There on Hoseok's couch, you do no more than kiss like loved up teenagers and yet it's the first time you've had any kind of romantic interaction with someone without the looming dark clouds of negativity in your head.

You purposefully push it away, too desperate to simply enjoy this moment with an attractive man who genuinely seems to like you. And so you do.

For the first time, you simply let someone in.

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bosooka · 4 years ago

Photo

some of y’all might’ve noticed me reblogging like,,,cliche lesbian stuff no offense to lesbians to a weird cryptic tag--no? you didn’t? ok well nevertheless...behold the explanation! if you like:

- farmcore lesbians

- queer stories that aren’t love, simon + do not end in suicide

- books you can tell were an ordeal to research

- ~character-driven~ novels

this may be the wip for you! reply/send an ask to be added to the taglist :D

transcript under the cut:

[Image 1: an all-white powerpoint slide with text in comic sans. the title reads, “no mercy left for god,” and the subtitle reads “a wip intro by isaakandreyevs.” the surrounding rainbow text reads, clockwise: “mormons! gays! mormon gays!” “researching this made me extremely concerned for the safety and wellbeing of christian LGBT teenagers: a novel by me” “this is either the stupidest thing or the best thing i’ve ever written” “the lesbian adoption fantasy every rejected queer kid had at 14 except 900% more christian” “born entirely out of my insane parental instincts” End image 1.]

[Image 2: powerpoint slide titled “what’s in here???” a bullet-pointed list reads as follows:

“- farm lesbians who are moms - Gayngst™ - adoption plot - chosen families!!! - livestock with personalities - teenagers doing stupid teenager things - responsible adults - the jesus christ church of latter day saints (we’ll get there)” End image 2.]

[Image 3: slide titled “trigger warnings.” text reads as follows:

“- major: homophobia, conversion therapy, abuse, self-harm, mental illness, faith crises, suicidal ideation - minor (kind of): farm-typical animal death, bullying, foster care, alcohol use, underage”

aside adds: “yeah this is one of those books but dw there’s a happy ending lmao” End image 3.]

[Image 4: slide titled “plot?? no plot just gays.” text reads as follows:

“1998: farm country, idaho - catholic baby butch joey di angelo meets mormon annie haywood, who is pioneering new levels of lesbian repression - Romance Ensues but annie has really shitty parents - wild mormon stuff happens - and also a roadtrip kind of

2016: dc/virginia bc fuck idaho - joey & annie are now married and agree to foster a mormon girl, bailey, who got taken from her family after she was outed and her dad put her in the hospital - bailey is a trainwreck of a person and has been through three foster families and a group home - but dw the lesbian moms have come to save the day? - idk guys this is a character-driven novel - there’s also a goat” End image 4.]

[Image 5: slide titled “cast, pt. 1″. First drawing shows a woman with curly brown hair and amber eyes. she’s smiling. she has tan skin and freckles, and is wearing a white shirt with a red hoodie. her description reads:

“josephine ‘joey’ di angelo - dumb farm jock - likes rocks (gives cool ones to annie) - catholic but like. a normal person primarily - dad jokes - takes in pathetic life forms - personality is “soft puppy”

the second drawing shows a woman with long, dark hair. she has blue eyes and glasses and is frowning. her description reads:

anna ‘annie’ haywood di angelo - needs a hug - mormon and gay, fucked up about it - no coping mechanisms we die like repressed christian lesbians - loves joey an embarrassing amount - world cold and hard. titty soft and warm - would rather cut her own hand off than drink coffee” End image 5.]

[Image 6: titled “cast, pt. 2″. first drawing shows a Black woman with very dark skin and braided hair. she wears glasses and is holding a starbucks drink. her description reads:

“adanna ‘dani’ bankole - joey’s best friend + self-preservation instincts - bailey’s case worker - isn’t getting paid enough for this shit - patience of a saint - aroace but a Lesbian Magnet™”

second drawing shows a young girl with blonde hair and green eyes. she has heavy bags under her eyes and is frowning. her description reads:

“bailey park - would rather close a door on her head than admit her feelings - prays for the sweet release of death - really, really needs a hug - hasn’t slept since her baptism - a girl smiled at her and she cried for two hours” End image 6.]

[Image 7: slide titled “cast, pt. men”. first drawing on the left shows a young man with brown hair and blue eyes. he’s wearing a suit and tie and is growing the valiant beginnings of a beard. his description reads:

“bennett ‘ben’ haywood - annie’s youngest brother - actually nice - came back from mission to find his family in flames”

the second drawing on the left shows a slightly older man with pale skin, brown hair and blue eyes. he has a full beard and bags under his eyes. his description reads:

“hiram haywood - annie’s younger brother - fuck this guy - Complicated - reason the haywoods are a goddamn ordeal”

the first drawing on the right shows a man with curly brown hair like joey’s, a full beard, and dark brown eyes. he has sunglasses pushed to the top of his head. his description reads:

“anthony ‘tony’ di angelo - joey’s twin - Softe - a good boy who tries his best - let’s go lesbians”

the second drawing on the right shows an older man with grey hair and a beard. he’s wearing wire-frame glasses and a beige cardigan. his description reads:

“nonno - joey’s grandpa - gay magnet (since the 50s) - family sauce recipe will die with him - fought fascists and won” End image 7.]

#writeblr #wip intro #comic sans wip intro #queer fiction #ofcolourtracking #explo writes #wip: nmlfg #if anyone needs me i will be Up To The Shoulder in mormon scripture #this book has been...a fucking nightmare to research #thankfully my vod'ika has the patient of a saint #pun not intended #i donated like 50 dollars to queer youth shelters in slc after like...2 days of research #also i learned a lot about goats #and apple orchards #we'll get there #explostential crisis

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worldly-diversity · 3 years ago

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Plotted starter for the lovely @cataclysmic-despair-blog !

There's something demoralising about priding yourself on your craft, only for it to get metaphorically blown to smithereens. Or literally, whatever works. perhaps ironically, that was exactly what had landed him in this mess in the first place…

Trying to get material to power his suit was no easy feat but he'd always managed and managed well. Whatever had caused things to go wrong that time, even with months to think about it he couldn't figure it out. And time dragged on in this place.

White and grey walls invariably met him in his daily routine, the boredom almost eating him alive. Usually the fury got there first. Places like this weren't easy to survive in, never mind for someone like him, just over the age of majority and therefor monumentally screwed.

Get caught at nineteen, they don't take you to juvenile hall anymore. The kid gloves come off.

Sometimes he wished he'd been younger… Sometimes it doesn't matter either way. Adults usually had a better handle on themselves than teenagers did, and with how frustrated he felt, he was usually being the reckless one.

They called him by his given name here too, something he hated. Half the time even other inmates would refuse to so much as refer to him as 'Red'. Well, until he got so pissed off that one time that his uniform had been more red than beige. They called him Red, then.

Anger management was becoming an issue, or at least that's what the warden called it. As for Red? He just thought that if people left well enough alone he wouldn't be quite as pissed the whole time.

The other half of his insurmountable fury had everything to do with failure. Red X never failed, but ever since that blast had knocked him out and he'd gotten caught, it had been one failure after another. And he couldn't even seem to be strong for Adrien either, who was out there all by himself. They hadn't seen each other in nearly a year now.

Foolish but brave Adrien who had tried to come see him several times, using the excuse that they were friends but that he'd had no idea of Red's criminal pastimes. Bullshit, of course, but people wanted to believe it so they did. Granted him visitation rights and everything.

First time he'd tried to visit? Red was stuck in solitary after having attempted to break out. The next time? in the infirmary after having gotten into a vicious brawl with someone.

After a while he didn't even get notified that Adrien had tried to make contact anymore. Instead all they had was letters, and both of them knew better than to let anything slip in something so easily monitored as incoming and outgoing mail…

That, too, pissed him off.

And…

He missed Adrien terribly.

How was the other doing? Was he okay? Had his father gotten his grubby claws into the other again or had Adrien managed to escape him? What about his former partner, the little ladybug, was she still chasing him? So many questions, and no answers to be found.

"ARGH!" His fist slammed against the wall in frustration, and he immediately got a warning for it, testing his already frayed patience further.

Damn it, he needed to get out of here! Even if he had to level the whole damn prison to get it done—

#cataclysmicdespairblog #cataclysmicdespair #interactions • red x #threads #I missed you luv!! <33 #hope this works for ya~#universe • dc

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thecassadilla · 4 years ago

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Somewhere Only We Know

Pairing: Kristanna

Word Count: 4,202/AO3

Summary: Jealousy rears its ugly head as Anna and Kristoff each bring a date to a charity gala.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is my contribution for Kristanna Week Day 4 - Green! It’s a bit of a doozy in terms of length XD The title comes from the Keane song of the same name (I was in the midst of a Grey’s Anatomy binge while writing this lol). Enjoy!!!

As Kristoff sat in his car outside of the banquet hall, he wondered how he’d gotten himself into this situation. Donning a suit, and waiting for his “date” to arrive, he contemplated leaving and never looking back. Truth be told, if it wasn’t for Anna’s sister giving him a job with her company, he wouldn’t be here. And truth be told, he only accepted the job because it meant he’d get to stay close to Anna.

Luckily for him, Anna would always come to his office while he was hard at work and the other employees were packing up for the day. She’d perch herself on the edge of his desk, cross her ankles and fold her hands in her lap while she patiently waited for a sliver of attention from him. When he was finally able to give her the attention that she desired, she’d always brag about her weekend plans or the dates she was going on. He tried his best to play the role of the “supportive best friend who definitely wasn’t in love with her,” despite the fact that that notion couldn’t be farther from the truth; he’d had feelings for her for years and had never found the courage to act upon them. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because he was certain his feelings were unrequited.

The day she’d brought up the gala was different, though, and he recalled their conversation in his head.

“Hey, sorry for staying late again, I just have one more thing to do and then I’ll leave.”

“I’m not here to scold you for staying late - although you probably should go home. I just wanted to let you know that you’ll be sitting at mine and Elsa’s table at the gala.”

He looked over at her for a split second before dragging his eyes back to his work. “I’m sorry, did you just say that I’m sitting at the CEO’s table at a charity gala?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“I should be sitting with the other people in my department, no?”

“Well, we were friends before you started working here, so you’re sitting with us.”

“Great,” he muttered, trying to focus on the numbers in front of him. “Now they’ll all have a real reason to hate me.”

“If anyone hates you, you can refer them to my sister.”

He shook his head, sighing.

“Anyway,” she continued in a sing-song voice, “I just need to know if you’re bringing a guest or -”

“Yes,” he cut her off mid-sentence, without thinking about the repercussions.

“You are?”

“I’m allowed to, right?”

“Of course,” she answered in a strained voice. “I’ll be sure to put down that you’re bringing a guest.”

She hopped down from the desk and made her way to the door without saying another word.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from his work and looking over at her. She normally waited for him to finish so they could walk out together.

“Yeah, uh...I have plans to meet up with someone.”

“Oh, okay. Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

What brought him back to reality was the sight of a car pulling into the spot next to his. He glanced over to find that it was his date, Lauren - who also happened to be his happily-married neighbor. Lauren and her husband, Matt, were the only people who knew about his feelings for Anna, and he often went to them to vent or seek advice. He went to them the same day that Anna came into his office so he could complain to them about about running his stupid mouth.

“Okay, so there’s this stupid charity gala thing coming up at the end of the month. I don’t want to go, but I’m kind of obligated because of the job thing.”

“Uh huh,” Matt nodded.

“And today, Anna came into my office, like she always does, and told me that I’m not going to be sitting with my department, but with her and her CEO sister. And she asked me if I’m bringing a date, which I said ‘yes’ to without even thinking.”

Lauren and Matt exchanged a glance. “What exactly is the problem?” Lauren asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t have a date!” he exclaimed. “I lied about having a date, and Anna is going to have a date, because she’s Anna and she always has a date.”

“Maybe the reason Anna always has a date is because you’d rather complain about her having dates than actually ask her on a date.”

“You’re really not helping.”

“You seem...desperate,” Lauren commented.

He picked his head up and looked over at her. “Do you think it’s too late to get out of it? I could just...not show up, right?”

“Or you could go and just bring a date.”

“Where am I going to find a date?” he scoffed.

“I’ll go with you,” Lauren offered. “It may be my one and only chance to actually meet the object of your affections otherwise known as Anna.”

A set of fingers tapping on his window snapped him out of the flashback. Lauren was standing there, motioning for him to step out of the vehicle. With a sigh, he opened the door and climbed out.

“Thinking about making a run for it?” she teased.

“Sort of,” he answered. “Thanks again for doing this.”

“If I wasn’t so eager to meet the woman you’re in love with, I would’ve have even offered,” she laughed before motioning to her long black dress. “I had to dig this out of my closet. I’m surprised it still fits - I wore it years ago when I was a bridesmaid in my sister’s wedding. I think it’s the only dress I own aside from my wedding dress.”

He blushed at her mention of his feelings for Anna, but decided to brush it off. “You look great.”

“You don’t look too bad, yourself.”

“Thanks.”

“Now, what’s the angle I’m working with here? Do you want me to give her the third degree?”

“I think you should be yourself,” he said.

“Where’s the fun in that? It’s not like these people will ever see me again.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, we should go inside.”

The hallway of the venue was bustling with activity, but he was able to locate their seating card right away.

“I’m going to run to the restroom to put on my lipstick and I’ll be right back,” Lauren said after they arrived at the empty table.

As Kristoff looked around the crowded room, he thought for a split second that he’d be able to survive the party and go on with life as usual. Until he spotted Anna and forgot how to breathe.

She was radiant in a long, satin, emerald green a-line dress that hugged the top half of her body and flared out at her hips, only accentuated by a slit that ended mid-thigh. Her hair fell in loose curls that framed her face and her lips were painted a stunning, dark red. A pair of pearl earrings adorned her ears and a matching necklace hung from her throat, but the most noticeable accessory was the arm of the man she had brought as her date, which was interlocked with hers. His jaw tensed up and he was grateful that she wasn’t yet looking in his direction, because his face would certainly give away how envious he was feeling.

But of course, as soon as she saw him, she was rushing over, dragging her handsome mystery guy along.

“Oh Kristoff!” she exclaimed, pressing her cheek to his and making a puckering noise. “You look so handsome!”

“Stop it,” he blushed. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you,” she gushed, looping her arm around the man’s. “I’m being so rude! Kristoff, this is Brian. Brian, Kristoff.”

Brian extended his hand out and though he hesitated for a moment, Kristoff eventually reached out and shook it.

“Nice to meet you,” Brian smiled.

“Same here,” Kristoff said, though he was focusing on the other man’s features; dark hair, beard, glasses.

“So, where's your date?”

Anna nudged him. “Brian -”

Kristoff cut her off before she could finish. “Lauren? She’s around here somewhere.”

He swore that he saw Anna’s face twitch, but he convinced himself that it was just the strobe lights playing tricks with his eyes.

She smiled then, he was certain of that, and patted Brian’s arm. “You haven’t seen Elsa around, have you?”

He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“I should probably go find her. We’ll see you in a little bit.”

Before he could utter another word, they were shuffling away, and he breathed a sigh of relief. A moment later, Lauren tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

“Horrible timing,” he remarked.

“What’d I miss?” she laughed.

“Anna came over, with her date.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Hey, how’s it going?” Ryder interrupted, his voice startling them.

“Hey,” Kristoff replied, shifting to face him.

“Who’s this?”

“I’m Lauren,” she answered for herself, reaching out her hand.

Ryder grinned widely and shook it enthusiastically. “Wow, I can’t believe you brought a date.”

Kristoff glared at him but just as he was about to open his mouth, Lauren refuted the younger man. “Where’s your date?”

“Oh, I don’t -” he started, before throwing his hands up in surrender. “I’m really only here as moral support for my sister’s girlfriend.”

“Speaking of, have you seen your sister? Or Elsa? I know Anna was looking for her.”

“Elsa’s probably in the bathroom, puking or something and I’m sure Honey is with her,” he shrugged. “Speaking of Anna, have you seen her date?”

“You should probably talk less and smile more,” Lauren proposed, immediately sensing Kristoff’s discomfort. “It’ll keep you out of trouble.”

“Whoa, was that a Hamilton reference?”

“Ryder,” Kristoff warned, grabbing his attention. “Just...keep it cool, okay? We’re all adults here and this night isn’t about us.”

“I have a feeling that this dinner is going to be very interesting,” he remarked, before taking his seat at the table.

“He’s right,” Kristoff murmured to Lauren. “He’s going to be the only normal one at the table, and that’s saying something.”

“You should really take your own advice, you know. Keep it cool.”

He motioned to the group that was approaching their table; Elsa and Honeymaren holding hands in ice blue and beige gowns, respectively, and then Anna and Brian, whose arms were still linked. “Here they come.”

“Holy sh*t, why didn’t you tell me they were all literal goddesses?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look at them, all tall and leggy and gorgeous,” she said. “They’re supermodels and I didn’t even bother to dye my roots!”

“What happened to keeping it cool?” he teased. “And you look great.”

“Hi,” Anna said once they’d reached the table. “You must be Lauren.”

Lauren smiled. “I am. And you are?”

“Anna,” she answered, her face falling. The two women exchanged a simple handshake. She didn’t bother to introduce Brian, who took his seat at the table, and instead kept her attention on Lauren. Without skipping a beat, she asked, “How do you and Kristoff know each other?”

“We live in the same apartment building,” Lauren explained. “Kind of hard to ignore a guy as big as him in the laundry room. How do you know Kristoff?”

Anna glanced over at Kristoff, as if she had expected him to have told Lauren this stuff in previous conversation. “We’ve been friends for like, ever,” she smiled tensely before looking at him again and clearing her throat. “Really good friends.”

“I was kind of asking how you met,” Lauren chuckled.

“Oh. We met in college. He didn’t want to be bothered and I just...kept bothering him.”

He smiled at the memory of her insisting on sitting next to him in class while he was trying to be invisible. His first impression was that she was a little too perky, but that opinion vanished within a week when he realized how charming and friendly she was. She had had nothing but good intentions, after all.

Anna, on the other hand, seemed to be out of character in the present moment. He was having trouble reading her face as well as he normally could, but something seemed off about how she’d responded to Lauren; he couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or resentment or something else. He became worried that this event would be the straw that broke the camel’s back in terms of their friendship, and he couldn’t imagine his life without Anna in it.

For most of the night, the table was tense and unusually quiet. In between the dancing and speeches, there was little socialization with the exception of Ryder, who was relishing in the ability to be the center of attention for a few minutes at a time. He was vaguely aware of the fact that his eyebrows were drawn tightly together and his jaw was clenched as he watched Anna and Brian whisper to each other. Whenever Anna wasn’t speaking, he caught her looking over in his direction, lips pursed.

“She looks like she’s trying to choke back vomit,” Lauren whispered at one point, looking in Anna’s direction. “Is she okay?”

“I have no idea, she’s normally very talkative. I’m worried about her.”

“Ask her if she’s okay.”

“No, Brian is next to her. She’ll tell him or her sister if something’s wrong.”

Towards the end of the night, the dancing resumed once again, and thankfully, Lauren was as disinterested as Kristoff was, so they hung back at the table while everyone else departed.

“Is it always like that with them?” Lauren spoke up as soon as the others were out of ear shot. “Tense and awkward?”

“No,” Kristoff answered, shaking his head. “I have no idea what that was about. Especially Anna - on a normal day, she’d talk your ear off.”

“She really didn’t look well. Something is eating her alive and I have a feeling that I know what it is.”

“Huh?”

“Is it possible...and just, hear me out -”

“What?” he asked, impatiently.

“Is it possible that the reason she parades all of those guys around you is because she wants attention from you?”

He looked at her solemnly, unable to muster up a response. He shrugged instead of answering.

Her face softened. “Something is not being said here.”

“I don’t know, Lauren. I really don’t know.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but the only way to resolve this is to talk to her. And to be honest, about everything.”

“Yeah, but what if it goes horribly wrong?”

“What’s the absolute worst that happens? You quit your job and stop talking to them? You have a very employable job and you’re a good-looking guy - the ball is in your court no matter which way it goes.”

As if on cue, Anna appeared behind them. “Uh, Lauren, I hope you don’t mind me asking to take your date away, but Kristoff promised me a dance,” she said, before looking at Kristoff and adding, “If you’re up to it.”

He nodded - even though he was certain they’d never talked about sharing a dance - and moved to stand up, before Lauren placed a hand on his arm. “I’m actually going to head out now. I have work in the morning and I should go home and get some sleep.”

“Of course,” he said softly. “Do you want me to walk you to your car?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she answered. She stood up, then, and he quickly followed suit. “It was really nice to meet you, Anna.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Anna whispered as Lauren walked away.

Kristoff held out his arm, and she looked up at him for a moment, as if she were unsure of what to do before finally accepting. They walked quietly to the dance floor, and once there, they locked their hands together. Anna draped her free arm around his shoulder and his free hand fell to her waist as they began to sway back and forth.

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asked.

“Not really,” she admitted. “But it was really great to see you with Lauren, she’s a really nice girl.”

“Anna -”

“I did promise myself that I would be honest, though,” she said, meeting his gaze. Her eyes were brimming with tears, threatening to spill over at any moment. “And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t positively green with envy the entire time.”

“What?”

“Oh, come on,” she retorted, a hollow laugh escaping her lips. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t notice.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You came with Brian -”

“Brian’s my friend,” she confessed suddenly, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I’m not interested in him at all and I only asked him to come with me because you didn’t ask me.”

“I didn’t know that you wanted me to ask you.”

“I tried to make it obvious, but you said you were bringing someone and you brought Lauren, so clearly you weren’t going to ask me anyway.”

“Lauren is married.”

“She - what?”

“She’s married. She lives in my building, and I watch football with her husband. There’s nothing going on between us.”

“Oh,” she croaked, gripping his jacket tightly in her hand.

“I think we…I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, a single tear rolling down her cheek. He reached up to brush it away, allowing his hand to linger for a moment and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply.

“Did you drive here?”

“No, Honey drove me.”

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

She shook her head, lip quivering. “I don’t want to go home.”

“You can come back to my place,” he assured her. “We can talk there.”

She nodded, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and walked her toward the exit, not bothering to say goodbye to any of their friends. When they reached the glass doors that led to the parking lot, it became apparent that it was torrentially raining outside.

“Wait here, I’ll go get the car.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re going to ruin your dress,” he said, but it was too late. She pushed the door open and stepped out into the torrential rain, instantly soaking her dress and hair. With a sigh, he followed her out and pointed in the direction of his car. “I parked over there.”

By the time they made it to his car, they were drenched from head to toe.

“I’m going to put the heat on so we can dry off a little,” he said, before reaching inside the center console and pulling out a stack of napkins. “Here, so you can wipe your face.”

She sat motionless, strands of her dampened hair clinging to her face for a moment, before finally accepting one and wiping her face. The ride back to his apartment was silent, and the second walk in the rain was equally as unpleasant as the first. The water dripping off of them left a trail in the carpet and puddles in the elevator, and he was relieved when they finally made it to his apartment. She kicked off her heels at his front door, and he did the same with his shoes and socks.

“I’ll get you some dry clothes, okay? And you can take a hot shower to warm up.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he insisted. “I can go after you.”

She gave him a small nod and he led her into his bedroom. He retrieved a clean, dry set of clothes that she could wear, fully aware that they would swamp her petite body, and laid them on the bathroom counter along with a few clean towels.

As soon as the door closed and the water turned on, he stripped off his own clothes, exchanging them for dry ones. He wouldn’t be able to take his suit to the dry cleaners until tomorrow, so he’d have to hang it from the shower rod and hope that it wouldn’t somehow be ruined overnight.

She came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around her head, and he smiled at the sight of it. As predicted, his clothes were hanging off of her, but she looked quite adorable. “I’m going to jump in, I’ll be out in a few.”

As promised, he showered quickly, relishing the comfort of his dry clothes. He made sure to hang Anna’s dress from the curtain rod in addition to his suit. When he emerged from the bathroom, he found Anna sitting on his bed, and he took a seat next to her. They were quiet for a long, long time, and he worried that this was going to be the end of everything for them.

“I talk about you,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

“What?” she asked, her voice wobbly.

“I know Lauren made it seem like I never talk about you, but I do,” he confirmed. “A lot. I think Lauren and her husband know more about you than they know about me.”

She sniffled. “That’s so nice.”

“And I...I would’ve asked you if I had known that was what you wanted.”

“You didn’t…” she started, before closing her eyes and letting out a shaky breath. “It’s not your fault. I could’ve asked you, or I could’ve - there are so many things I could’ve said or done.”

He shook his head. “You said you were being obvious about it -”

She cut him off mid-sentence. “You were working and I was bothering you.”

“No, you weren’t bothering me. You never bother me. I jumped to conclusions,” he admitted, hanging his head. “I thought the reason you brought up the charity gala that day was because you were rubbing in the fact that you had a date. You always have dates. To quote Lauren, you’re a goddess. It isn’t that hard to believe that men are throwing themselves at you.”

She sighed, trying to maintain her composure. “Kristoff, I know that I always talk about my plans, but I don’t go out as often as I’ve led you to believe. In all honesty, I was trying to make you jealous.”

“It worked,” he frowned. “I never said anything because I wanted you to be happy. And I believed that if you viewed me as the type of person that you could share stuff like that with, then you wouldn’t be interested in me as anything more than a friend.”

"Tonight, I got a taste of my own medicine and I can't say I didn't deserve it. Watching you with Lauren - well, there was a part of me that was happy you found someone, but I wished it was me. I wished that I was Lauren, and that you were paying attention to me, and whispering in my ear, and touching me."

"How do you think I felt all this time? Every time you were bragging about a date? Or even tonight, when you brought Brian?"

“I’m really sorry,” she whimpered. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me.”

He exhaled deeply. “I think we’re both equally to blame.”

“How did we get to this point? How do we fix this?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering. “I think we both have to be honest about what we want. No more lying, no more games, no more trying to make the other person jealous.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and wiped away a fallen tear before saying, “I want you.”

“And I want you.”

“So we both want the same thing? We can be together?”

He smirked. “I think it would be foolish if we didn’t get together.”

She smiled genuinely for the first time that night, before asking in a small voice, “Can I stay here tonight?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

They crawled to the top of the bed and nestled under the covers after he turned out the lights, a safe distance between them until Anna spoke up. “Will you hold me?”

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms.

She curled up against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, determined to keep her safe and warm. He certainly hadn’t expected that this was how they would end their night, but he was so glad that it had gone in this direction. The alternative - the one he feared would happen - where their friendship would end and there’d be nothing left but broken hearts and falling tears was much scarier. Now, there was no more jealousy and no more fabrications, just the simple-yet-complicated thing they had between them. And he selfishly hoped they could stay this way forever.

“I really missed you tonight,” she said. “I missed talking to you, and spending time with you, and I never want to go through that again.”

He tightened his grip on her. “I missed you, too.”

“Don’t let me go, okay? Please?”

“Never,” he promised, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. And he intended to keep that promise for as long as she’d let him.

#kristannaweek2020 #kristanna week 2020 #kristanna #anna #kristoff bjorgman #frozen #frozen fic #my writing

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trashyswitch · 4 years ago

Text

Picani's Therapy House

Virgil feels like he might need some specialized therapy to help with being touch-starved and anxious about asking for love. Fortunately, there is a Therapy House nearby that just might help him...

There, he meets Dr. Picani and his special assistant: Şüräle!

Şüräle is a mythological character that I revamped and turned into an OC. Here's the link to the character:

https://trashyswitch.tumblr.com/post/625922793756917760/%C5%9F%C3%BCr%C3%A4le-added-drawings

In this fanfic though, Şüräle is a cute little grey stuffed mouse. This is what they look like: https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/uOEAAOSwlixfJJgE/s-l1600.jpg

Hope you enjoy! And thanks @agarus-fallen-lershal for the adorable suggestion!

Chapter 1: A Welcoming Environment

Virgil walked into the open door and looked around the room for a second. The waiting room was childish-looking, but also homely. The room was painted a light purply blue color and covered with vines filled with little multi-colored flowers on them. The waiting room chairs were comfy-looking dorm chairs that were littered with cuddly blankets and fluffy faux fur pillows. There were side tables with sequined stuffies and those squishie toys, and even a pop up bin filled with pillow pets! Lastly: in the middle of the room was a kids table and chairs filled with interactive books and coloring pages with crayons.

Virgil smiled at the cute atmosphere, and walked towards the secretary. The secretary was wearing a light blue collared shirt with glasses, and had a big genuine smile on his face.

“Welcome to the Special Therapy House! I’m Patton. Are you here for an appointment?” The person at the desk asked.

Virgil was immediately caught off guard by the loud voice, but felt somewhat comforted by the heartwarming personality. “Y-...Yes.” Virgil replied.

Suddenly, someone else walked into the room. He had a black jacket on, a white shirt underneath and a pair of sunglasses on despite the man being inside a building. “Hey Pat: tone down the excitement a little bit. You’re scaring the poor little anxious man.” The stranger warned.

Patton sighed and turned to face him. “I can act how I want. And I want to make the new person feel welcome.” Patton explained.

“Well, guess what? You’re making the new person feel like running away. You wanna make them feel comfortable and safe. Not overwhelmed and anxious.” Remy explained.

“I’m...actually okay with how Pat introduced the therapy house. It...made me feel better about the type of therapy I’m here for.” Virgil explained a little quietly, but loud enough for the guy to see.

The guy with the sunglasses narrowed his eyes, but soon softened his expression. “Okay. A little warning though, I’m the only one that calls him Pat. Alright?” The guy warned.

Virgil put his hands up in surrender. “Okay.” Virgil replied.

When the sunglasses guy left the room, Patton waved him off. “It’s alright. I like the nickname. I couldn’t care less.” Patton explained to him. Which therapist are you looking to see?” Patton asked.

Virgil started to wrack his brain for a minute. What was his name again? Quickly though, Virgil remembered at least one of the names.

“Picani?” Virgil guessed.

Patton smiled. “Emile Picani! He’s a great therapist. You’re gonna like him!” Patton reacted. “You can go cuddle yourself in a seat over there, and he’ll be ready to see you shortly.” Patton directed.

“Thank you.” Virgil said with a smile before heading over to one of the seats. Virgil picked up one of the fur pillows, and immediately hugged it. Upon seeing an orange pillow on his chair, Virgil grabbed it and wrapped it around himself eagerly. He felt comfy, but it wasn’t enough. Virgil started looking around the room and came across an open chest filled with multi-colored blankets that were each made out of different materials. Happily, Virgil walked up to the chest with his orange blanket and started putting all the blankets on his head and shoulders. Sky blue, pink, brown, red, many different colors of blankets were now piled on top of Virgil. With his body now ready to marshmallow tackle someone, Virgil closed the chest and slumped into the waiting room chair with confidence.

“Uuuuuh...Hello?” Patton muttered, looking at the walking pile of blankets.

Virgil looked up at Patton with insane eyes and a mix of excitement. “I’m a blanket monster…” Virgil whispered in awe.

Patton giggled from the desk. It looked like Virgil was going to destroy the world with his blanket powers. What those powers would really be, Patton couldn’t tell you.

“Mr. San-...oh.” Someone said. Virgil looked up at the door, and gulped when he realized who it was. The man was wearing a white-collared shirt with a pink tie, and a beige sweater overtop. What really told him it was him though, was the name tag that said ‘Dr. Emile Picani, Psychologist and Therapist’.

“.........Hiiiiiiii Mr. Picani…” Virgil said awkwardly, still covered in tons of blankets.

Picani just bursted out laughing and whipped out his phone so he could take a picture. “Oh my gosh! Who knew I’d come across a blanket monster!” Picani joked as he took pictures.

Despite the cute reaction from Dr. Picani, Virgil’s embarrassment struggled to leave him and began to manifest into somewhat awkward laughter. With Picani’s help, Virgil put the blankets back and walked into the therapy room.

The therapy room had the same homely feeling put into it. There was chairs to sit on, a table to draw at if you wanted, a box of stuff in the corner, and a sheeted bed added to the side of the room. Atop the bed, was a little stuffed animal shaped like a mouse.

...Wait...Was the stuffy moving?

“Welcome to my love-atory! It’s a laboratory for those who are lacking different types of love and affection. One of my favorite psychologists to quote, is Neil R. Carlson. After a while of studying kids with little reactions to touch, Carlson said ‘When the enriched kids returned to the typical conditions that involved little touching, the physical and behavioral advantage they had obtained faded. Although the enriched group showed a better response to stress as long as eighteen months later, they still were socially withdrawn and failed to respond normally to other children and adults’.” Dr. Picani explained.

Virgil looked at him.

“Basically what that means, is even though touch-deprived kids are able to handle stress better, they are still lacking the ability to accept touch and affection.” Picani told him. “Have the people in your family been hugging you and giving you lots of love?” Picani asked.

Virgil sat down onto the bed. “Well, I have been getting lots of hugs from one specific caretaker. But everyone else has either grown up quickly, or grown to hate hugs.” Virgil explained.

Picani frowned hurtfully. “Really?” Picani reacted.

“I mean, I do get hugs and love. But I would probably get more love and affection if I could work up the courage to ask.” Virgil explained further, growing awkward from the idea of asking.

“Sounds like you’re a shy man!” another voice spoke. It sounded like the voice was coming from beside him. Virgil looked to the right side of him and reacknowledged the mouse stuffy that was there. He noticed it moving slightly before, but this time…

It was waving at him!

“Hi there!” It spoke suddenly.

Virgil’s eyes widened with surprise as he scooted away from the stuffy. He pointed at it. “Do-Does this stuffy have an automatic talking sensor or something?!” Virgil asked.

“Well yes, but actually no. He does have an automatic sensor...but by sensor, I mean ‘he’s alive’. This is Şüräle! My plushy assistant!” Picani introduced.

Virgil gulped nervously and looked at the little mouse stuffed animal. It was grey, had flat paws and even had a long, peach-colored tail! It looked somewhat realistic, but also cartoony. It had black eyes and no specific nose piece at the end, as well as no visible mouth.

“Nice to meet you! Do you have a name?” The mouse greeted.

Virgil kept in mind the moving black line that outlined the mouse’s mouth. It was...kinda cute! “V-...Virgil. My name is Virgil.” He replied, before holding out a hand. The mouse took one look at the hand, and immediately grew curious and eager for love. So, Şüräle placed his forehead onto Virgil’s hand and started rubbing its face on it. Virgil, surprised by the strange reply to his handshake, started giving Şüräle little pets and scratches. Şüräle practically melted like a puddle from the scratches and laid itself down on its back onto the bed so it could get some belly scratches as well.

“Good to see you two are getting along!” Picani reacted eagerly.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Virgil asked.

“A boy. A manly, macho boy!” Şüräle replied, showing off its muscles and claws.

Virgil laughed at this and gave Şüräle some belly squeezes and scratches. “About as manly as a toddler.” Virgil teased.

Şüräle guffawed in surprise and started kicking, squirming and giggling. “Hehehehey! Thahahat tihihihicklehes! Hohohow dihid yohohou knohohohohow?!” Şüräle asked.

Despite his manliness being proven wrong, Şüräle seemed to love the tickles! And Virgil seemed to notice this right away! “So, I guess you like tickles too?” Virgil asked Picani.

Picani blinked in surprise and slowly started scratching the back of his head. “W-Well...yeah. It’s why I came up with this type of therapy in the first place.” Picani explained.

Virgil nodded in understanding. His hand slowly started to drift away from Şüräle, allowing Şüräle to get out and start breathing and talking properly.

“How would you like to start now?” Şüräle suggested.

Picani nodded his head and snapped his 1 finger. “Yes. Good idea.” Picani replied. “So Virgil: telling by your cute little reaction to Şüräle, I think you are a bit of a Ler, as well as a Lee.” Picani explained. “So, that makes this a little more complicated. Do you prefer to be tickled? Or would you rather tickle someone?” Picani asked.

Virgil looked down and visibly blushed at the internal thoughts he was having. “I wanna...I wanna be tickled.” Virgil replied.

Picani clapped his hands together. “Wonderful!” He reacted as he walked up to the purple-wearing emo. “Would you like to tell me where you’re ticklish? Or would you rather let me figure it out?” Picani asked. “Or, perhaps you could give me a spot to start with, and I can go on from there.” Picani suggested.

Virgil looked up at Picani with a smile and started giggling as he pointed to his own ribs. Picani narrowed his eyes and smirked as he understood just what he was telling him.

“Sounds like a plan!” Şüräle declared before jumping into Virgil’s hoodie. Şüräle immediately started skittering around in the sweater, and sniffing all over Virgil’s upper and lower ribs.

“Wha- HEY! NAHAHA! ŞÜRÄHAHAHAHALE!” Virgil laughed helplessly, doing all he can to not squeeze his arms against his chest.

Şüräle popped himself out of Virgil’s shirt collar. “Mr. Picani! Reporting high levels of ticklishness!” Şüräle told him.

“Ooooh! This is gonna be fun!” Picani reacted. Eager to start right away, Picani placed his hands on Virgil’s ribs and started wiggling and drumming the fingers.

“OhohoHOHOHOHOKAHAHAHAHAY! Hohold on-” Virgil instinctively started pushing away the eager fingers. He seemed really nervous about letting people know about his ticklish weakness.

“Pushing me away, huh? I guess I’m gonna have to...GOFORTHESTOMACH!” Picani declared before shoving a hand under the sweater and tickling his belly.

“HAHAHAHAHA! KNOHOHOHOCK IHIHIT OHOHOHOF! IHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLEHEHES!” Virgil laughed.

Picani giggled and started squeezing his belly more. “Look at how squish-squish-squishy your belly is! Such a chub-a-chubby belly!” Picani teased.

“NOHOHOHO IHIHIT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOT!” Virgil protested.

“But it IS! Such a lovely little belly for an emo like you!” Picani teased while he continued to squeeze it.

“Is it really that squishy?” Şüräle asked.

“Yes! It really is!” Picani told him, pausing his tickling. Şüräle gasped excitedly and shoved itself under Virgil’s shirt. With curiosity and mischief, Şüräle started squishing Virgil’s belly with its front paws, and started tickling his belly with its mouse tail.

“Hahahahaha! Yohohohour tahahail ihis soho sohohohoft!” Virgil told the mouse.

Şüräle popped out from under the bottom of the shirt and beamed. “Thank you!” Şüräle replied.

“Nohoho prohohoblehehem.” Virgil replied.

Şüräle crawled itself back under the shirt and climbed itself up Virgil’s body. It was about to pop out and snuggle into Virgil’s neck, but it stopped in its tracks when it started smelling something...pretty! It smelled nice, actually!

“Hey Virgil! Your armpit smells nice! What’s in it?” Şüräle asked as he shoved its nose into Virgil’s armpit.

“eeeEEEK! ŞÜHUHRÄHAHALE, NOHOHOHOHO!” Virgil laughed.

“Oooh! You want some help there, buddy?” Picani asked.

Şüräle removed his nose from the armpit. “Yes please!” Şüräle replied.

“Okay. Which arm are you under?” Picani asked.

“This one!” Şüräle replied while poking the sweater with its nose. Picani noticed the poking fabric, and lightly grabbed onto Virgil’s arm.

“If you were ever uncomfortable with the thought of being pinned, just let me know.” Picani told him. Then, Picani gently lifted the hand above Virgil’s head and lifted the other arm as well. With both hands pinned, both armpits were now vulnerable and ready for tickling.

“Thank you!” Şüräle said happily before sniffing and moving its nose around the armpit.

Virgil bursted into helpless giggles almost immediately and started tugging on his left hand. It was his left armpit that was being tickled by Şüräle’s nose right now, and he wasn’t able to stop it no matter how much he tried to. Picani was too strong. And yet...he didn’t have the heart to tell Picani to let him go. He liked this. It made him feel all giggly inside and made him want to curl up at the same time. It was a strange mix of feelings that he struggled to fight with.

“You feeling okay, Virgil?” Picani asked.

Virgil nodded in reply. He had a huge smile on his face that couldn’t be hidden, no matter how much he squirmed.

“That’s good. How would you feel if I tickled your other armpit?” Picani asked, as he slowly brought his left hand over to Virgil’s right side. Virgil squealed and squeezed his eyes shut. “Do you want me to tickle your other armpit? Or is that too much?” Picani asked.

Virgil looked at the lingering fingers above his right armpit and looked at Picani with a pleading facial expression. That seemed to tell him everything!

“Alrighty then!” Picani touched his fingers down onto Virgil’s right armpit and immediately started scratching and skittering his fingers in the hollow part.

Virgil let out a HUGE squeal and fell into loud, squeaky laughter! It was so cute to listen to! Who knew such an awkward and quiet emo would be hiding such a cute laugh?!

Finally after what felt like hours, Picani stopped tickling him. “Alright. I think you deserve a big break.” Picani told him.

Virgil was still giggling and kicking, and even shaking his head back and forth a little. It was like he was still being tickled.

Hmm...Maybe he was?

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle! Such a cute little guy! I like you a lot! You’re so fun!” Şüräle’s voice spoke.

...So he IS being tickled still!

“Şüräle? Buddy? I said for us to stop. He needs a break.” Picani told him.

“Awww...But I didn’t get very long with him!” Şüräle whined.

Picani gave Virgil a guilt-filled ‘sorry’ expression. When Virgil signalled for him to get his mouse, Picani reached under Virgil’s shirt and pulled him out from underneath. “You sir, got more ticklish Virgil time than I did! So don’t start complaining.” Picani warned.

Şüräle frowned and pouted in the doctor’s hand. Virgil, finding it kinda cute, let out a giggle at the pouty stuffed mouse.

“Hey...don’t be giving me the whiny pouts, buddy.” Picani warned before curling his finger in an evil, threatening manner. Şüräle looked up, and immediately dropped his pouty face in surprise and slight eagerness.

Picani started tickling Şüräle’s belly with a couple of his fingers. “Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo!” Picani teased.

Şüräle let out a squeal and started laughing. The mouse’s laughter was super high-pitched and squeaky, making the mouse even MORE adorable!

Not even a second later, Picani laid Şüräle onto the bed beside Virgil and started tickling both their stomachs at the same time! Both of them were giggling, laughing, squeaking and even snorting!

Picani quickly figured out that Virgil has a snort when tickled long enough! And even though Picani already knew this, Virgil learned something adorable about Şüräle:

Şüräle will fall into fits of just squeaking when tickled a lot! It was like Şüräle was a real, living mouse! Only...its body was stuffed with cotton.

Soon enough, Picani let up on both of the adorable beings.

“Alright. I have to go talk to Patty the Secretary out in the waiting room. You guys can bond for a while. Okay?” Picani rold them.

Virgil nodded and happily took the time to get to know Şüräle. Through talking to the mouse, Virgil learned that Picani’s father actually get him the mouse when he was younger! Not only that, but Şüräle had taken on Picani’s childhood personality, including his childhood love for tickling! So through getting to know Şüräle, Virgil was getting to know Picani as a kid!

And of course, no bonding experience could ever be finished without a cuddle or a tickle. And for Virgil, he was gifted both.

#ticklefic #virgil sanders is a sweetheart #virgil sanders goes to specialized therapy #switch!virgil #switch!şüräle #ler!picani

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