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10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat · 3 years ago

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What I See

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x GN Medic Reader

Premise: My musings here resulted in this. You're a medic in the 501st who works closely with Kix. At first you think the crush you have on him is one-sided, until one day you look through his sketchbook and are surprised by a portrait he drew.

Word Count: ~2.2k

Rating: G

Other notes: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like clones

AO3

Being an army medic had its ups and downs, its slower periods and bursts of intense stressful activity. You wouldn’t trade it for anything though. The pay was better than what you earned as a civilian medical worker, your patients were much more agreeable (even though there was the occasional trooper who insisted he was fighting fit when he was still far from being so) and your coworkers were professional and easy to get along with. One coworker in particular was your favorite, and you looked forward to the shifts you shared with him.

When you first met Kix, you admired him for the love and care he showed his fellow clones and commanding officers. The two of you quickly developed a rapport; he always laughed at the bad jokes you made, and you liked to challenge him to competitions to see who could restock supply shelves in the med bay the fastest … he always won, but every time you’d stick your tongue out at him and say “I’ll get you next time!” and he would only respond with a knowing smirk.

During down time, when there were no patients and paperwork was handled, Kix would sit at his desk with a leather-bound book and a pencil. It was an odd at first, seeing the rich brown leather and sheets of paper in an austerely sterile all-white setting filled with holopads and technology, but it also looked right in his hands. Without meaning to, you’d sometimes watch as he focused intensely on whatever he was scribbling into the book, brow furrowed in concentration as he worked.

“Jesse teases me and tells me I should just take pictures,” he explained one day as he showed you some drawings in his book, “but I find this relaxing.” He flipped to a sketch of a grassy plain with mountains in the background. You marveled at the details: the colors and shading on the mountains looked like sunlight glistening off their stony faces, the grass looked so realistically textured you thought it would feel like the real thing if you touched it, and he even added some wildflowers as well.

After seeing the meticulous designs he shaved into his hair, it was no surprise that Kix was an artist.

“Looks like it could be a picture,” you commented.

“Fives said something similar once, when we were down on Felucia he caught me drawing this-“ he flipped through the book to show you a drawing of a wide-trunked tree with large drooping leaves. “I just draw what I see,” he added with a shrug.

“You’re really talented though, the best I can draw is a stick figure.”

Kix cracked a small smile. “That was once the best I could do too,” he said.

The way his lips curved in his smile, the way his eyes shone as he looked at you - in that moment you realized just how beautiful he was. Sure, he was good-looking – all the clones were – but he stood out to you.

There was no use denying it, you had a crush on him.

Before there was a chance for your thoughts to betray you in any way, Kix’s comm beeped. “Duty calls,” he said, closing his sketchbook and stashing it in a drawer under his desk. He then stood up and made his way to his station, and you followed suit. Whatever was about to come into the med bay, it would keep you busy enough to distract yourself … so you hoped.

It had to be strictly professional between yourself and Kix, you reminded yourself as the first wave of injured troopers came into the medbay. Besides, given how quickly he could turn on a heel from artist to medic like that demonstrated how dedicated he was to his work, you knew he would never let anything get in the way of his duty.

Four rotations went by. Kix went on a mission with the rest of Torrent Company, leaving you to manage the med bay on your own during your shift. It was more of the same, really … but you thought about him more than you would care to admit. Of course, you always thought about him when he went on missions, you told yourself. Everyone worried about their coworkers, right? Especially if there was a chance they might not come back?

He always came back, you told yourself. This time wouldn’t be any different.

Only it was both more of the same and different. You were working on paperwork when the med bay doors suddenly flew open, and troopers began pouring in. As soon as you commed some off-duty medics to report to the med bay, you manned the triage station so you could tend to the more critically injured troopers first. It was hectic, a flurry of stressful activity, making sure everyone who needed a bed had one and every wound and scrape was patched up. It wasn’t until everything quieted down that you found Kix in one of the beds.

Your heart dropped into your stomach when you saw him. He was asleep, undressed from the waist up with bandages and bacta patches affixed to spots on his shoulder and the side of his head, and his lower half covered with a blanket. Nodes attached to pulse points on his inner arm connected to a machine by his bed that recorded his vital signs, and everything looked normal at first glance. His chart reported a direct blaster hit to his shoulder and a graze on his head, with an expectation of a full recovery, signed off by one of the medics you called in to help. You owed that medic big time, you thought.

A glance at the nearest chronometer revealed that your shift ended three hours ago, but you couldn’t leave. You didn’t want to leave. So you grabbed a chair and pulled it over to Kix’s bed so you could sit by him. Someone had to keep an eye on him after all. It was professional courtesy, you told yourself, that was all. Besides, even though your body ached and felt heavy with exhaustion, your mind was too active and on edge for sleep.

On the floor by his bed were his things: his armor, neatly stacked and organized, next to his medical pack. Inside his pack you found his sketchbook, and you figured you could pass the time by looking at his drawings again. You found the sketch of the plain and the mountain again and took a few more minutes to admire the detail. Then the tree on Felucia, and then a tooka cat, and when you turned the page you nearly dropped the book in surprise.

Kix had drawn you. In the picture you looked off in the distance, chin propped up on your hand. The detail was incredible: the shape of your nose, your mouth, your eyebrows, all rendered with magnificent accuracy. You wondered if he drew it from memory, or used a picture as a reference, or sketched you one day on duty when you weren’t paying attention.

It had to be a picture, you decided. What you saw before you … it was an idealized version of yourself. Better-looking than anything you ever saw in the mirror.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, you heard a weak drowsy voice calling your name. You looked up and saw that Kix had woken up, his head turned towards you and his half-lidded eyes meeting yours.

“Oh- you’re awake!” you stammered, your cheeks flushing with heat as you slammed the sketchbook shut. You sprang to your feet and came to his bedside – to tend to him as a medical professional, you reminded yourself.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“My job,” you answered plainly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” he answered glibly. “But I meant, what are you doing with that?” he nodded his head best he could and glanced to the sketchbook that was still in your hand.

“Oh-“ You froze for a second. “I- sorry, I just really like your ….” Your sentence trailed off as you saw apprehension flash across his face.

“It’s fine,” Kix murmured as he averted his gaze away from you.

“I … I saw you drew me.”

“Yeah … drew that when I was away … was missing you.”

Oh. Maybe he was crushing on you too … the idea was equal parts exciting and scary.

“Missed you too,” you returned, reaching down to give his wrist a gentle squeeze. “And it’s a really good drawing of me too. Did you use a picture for reference or something?”

“Memory,” Kix said plainly.

“Wow …” You opened up the sketchbook again to your drawing and gave it another lookover. “And you made me look better than I actually do.”

“No. I told you before, I draw what I see.”

Your mouth fell open slightly in surprise, and you looked up to meet Kix’s gaze again. Tired as he was, he looked at you with a soft admiration, as if he was appreciating a fine work of art standing directly in front of him. Your mind was both full and blank at the same time, feeling flattered and treasured but at the same time unsure of how to respond to him.

“I … I’ve been putting off telling you how I feel about you,” he continued, “because –“

“Your duty comes first, I understand,” you cut him off as you sat down on the edge of the bed, turning your torso to better face him and setting the sketchbook down by his head.

“No, not that. Well, it has to, but – but that doesn’t mean I can’t want more out of life.” Kix paused. He raised his hand and reached it towards you. You responded by raising up your own hand, taking his in yours, and holding it in your lap. Your other hand came to rest on his wrist. He was so warm under your touch, soft and solid and steady. You knew that you would eventually have to let go, but you didn’t want to.

“My favorite part of the day is when I get to see you, whether it’s here or in passing somewhere on the ship,” he continued, “and on the battlefield after I got shot, as I was lying there, all I could think about was how I might never see you again.”

“Kix, I-“

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted you. “Except, if- if after the war’s over you wanted to give it a shot? You and me?”

“Yes.” The words immediately fell from your lips as your mouth widened into a smile. You didn’t even have to think about it, and the potential consequences that the higher-ups in the GAR might inflict upon the both of you for even entertaining the idea didn’t matter. It just felt right, the idea of you and him. You couldn’t begin to explain it.

Kix returned your smile. You raised his hand to your mouth and softly kissed the back of it before lowering it back down to your lap. Before you could disentangle your hands from his, he returned that gesture as well, pulling your hand that was intertwined with his to his mouth and pressing little kisses into your knuckles. The feeling of his lips on your hand sent pleasant little tingles through your skin.

“Let’s talk about it some more after you’ve recovered,” you suggested.

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed absentmindedly. He shifted slightly in bed but suddenly stopped and froze in place, his face twisting into a pained grimace and a hiss escaping through his teeth.

“You okay?” You asked, pulling your hand back to you and scanning his body for any other signs of distress.

“Yeah, just hurts is all.”

“Let me get you some painkillers.”

“No need, I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Kix, I insist.” You told him in the sternest voice you could muster.

“I have the right to refuse treatment, especially if the treatment is better spent on my brothers who are in worse shape than I am.”

He was right, he did have the right to refuse treatment. But you couldn’t bear the idea of him being in pain.

“Okay … how about a sleeping aid then? Or some water? Can I get you anything?”

“If you want to do something for me, go get some rest. I’ll still be here when you report for your next shift.”

“Ugh, fine. You drive a hard bargain.”

“Ah come on, you know you love me.” Kix said teasingly, punctuating his statement with a smirk and a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Giving him a small laugh and a half-hearted eye roll, you pushed yourself up onto your feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Before you turned to leave, you took his hand in yours again, and took a moment to gaze in his eyes. It took everything in you to not immediately start imagining a life with him after the war. There wasn’t even any guarantee there was going to be a life after the war – the cruiser you were on might be destroyed tomorrow by the Separatists for all you knew – but the idea still filled you with hope and joy. Something to look forward to with him. Something else to fight for.

#kix x reader #kix x you #clone medic kix x reader #clone medic kix #clone trooper #clone wars #star wars #my writing

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erikahammerschmidt · 2 years ago

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I love how different minds work.

One time I was having a conversation, with another awesomely creative neurodivergent geek... about alien creature design, and how I love the challenge of trying to imagine... something that evolved on another world, and ended up looking COMPLETELY different from any Earth animal.

(Yep that’s a thing I drew, in high school... more on that later...)

Like, what things do we assume are universal, whenever we imagine a living creature? And how do we make up an alien that breaks those paradigms? And how weird and impractical can it get before it's outside the boundaries of what COULD, hypothetically, evolve (bearing in mind, of course, that a lot of what evolved on Earth is super weird and impractical too, because evolution does NOT result in the "best" design, it's just whatever it managed to evolve with what it had, to become as compatible as it could with the environment it happened to be in at the time).

Anyway, when I went through my most enthusiastic phase of this, in my teens... I made several tries at designing an alien with one of the few features that I knew I'd NEVER seen in Earth life: a body that moves on WHEELS instead of legs.

Of course, the obstacle to this is that a wheel needs to be able to spin independently of the main body, so how could it be a body part? And back then, I could imagine two possible ways:

#1. The entire creature is basically torus or cylinder shaped, and moves by rolling. The body IS the wheel.

(here is a drawing from one of my high school art books, with a scene from a very multicultural spaceship... featuring a Cyclian, one of the aliens I designed in this style. It is, quite fortunately, dated, so I know this was 1997.)

#2. Alternatively, the wheel is a separate creature, born together with the main one. They are like conjoined twins, but not actually connected, more like being born with arms linked. A loop of the main body goes through the wheel. Wheel eats and drinks separately, maybe shifts its weight to help with motion. There can be some other appendages to help propel it, maybe a pushing leg on the ground, or arms that turn the wheels like on a wheelchair.

(Here is a truly horrible quality scan of one of my paintings from slightly before then, maybe 1996, maybe earlier 1997. Meet my spring-legged aliens, and their Wheelberry Beast with its one long cylindrical wheel and little pushing leg. This is also an alien riff on food-producing livestock like cows and hens, because it grows edible “fruit” on its tentacles.)

Years later, I realized there are a few more possibilities:

#3. Same as #2, a loop of the main body goes through the wheel, except the wheel is not actually alive. It's made of some non-living material that forms along with the rest of the body and then lasts for life without regenerating itself. Like tooth enamel. (Downside: like tooth enamel, if it wears out you're screwed.)

#4. Same arrangement, except the non-living wheel does regenerate itself, because it's made of layers of something like keratin, forming periodically on the skin of the "axle" loop. Maybe wheels are shed and grown seasonally like antlers. Maybe the growth happens in hibernation, and the first thing the alien does after waking up is to loosen the innermost keratin layer, separate it from the flesh like a lizard shed, and get the wheel spinning.

So, a couple years ago I was infodumping about this to another nerd... and she suggested one more way! One that had not occurred to me!

#5. In her idea, the creature is not born with wheels, but is born with some type of magnetic organs inside it, where wheels could go. And then... finds things to use as the wheels, and they attach magnetically.

I asked her what these things would be... flat rocks or something? And she said she was imagining them as the discarded shells of some other creature, like how a hermit crab uses snail shells instead of having one of its own.

I was like WOW that is a whole different perspective! And it really makes me think about what we even mean by a creature that has wheels. If the wheels can be foreign objects, basically used like tools... then, is that kinda the same thing (on a much simpler scale) as humans "evolving wheels" by learning to make wheeled vehicles?

And then this idea inspired another one from me!

I took another look at my own paradigm, in which I had been trying to find ways it could work with the wheels being part of the body... and realized I could COMBINE that same approach with the new idea of a detachable-wheels model.

#6. Maybe there are multiple creatures, including some that are wheel-shaped and others that have different types of limbs, but they're all the same species! And they're a social species, with individuals adapted for different tasks within each family, like an ant colony! And the whole family can combine into a wheeled vehicle, whenever they need to get somewhere fast...

Moral: Get nerds together. You will be AMAZED at the ideas that happen.

P.S. Writing this, I just thought of #7:

The wheels are not actually separate from the body! But the flesh that connects them is flexible and stretchy, like a rubber band. Lift up each wheel one at a time, like a paw, and spin it until tightly wound up. When all 4 (or however many) wheels are wound up, set them all down and let loose! Only good for short sprints before you need to recharge again.

#drawings #paintings #creature design #science fiction #aliens #neurodivergent #art #artists #evolution #biology #wheels #brainstorming #ideas

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words-for-holland · 4 years ago

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Quarantine Series: The Birthday Week

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: It’s Tom’s Birthday Week! So much planning, food, and surprises....and a special promise from our favorite Q.S. Couple.

A/N: It’s been long overdue...Is it too late to say Happy Belated Tom?! 🥺

A/N: Happier Part 3 comes out this weekend!!

Check the Rest: Burnt Out | A New Look | Secret Cuts & Kisses | Breaking Friendships

May 25, 2020 (T-Minus 7 Days)

An almost average Monday. Its the start of Tom’s Birthday Week and Y/N is trying her best to get ahead of the game and prep up for an over-the-top birthday party for her boyfriend. Well as over-the-top as it can get when you’re stuck in Quarantine because...well...Covid.

The only problem, she didnt know where to start. What party to throw, games to play, food to make, playlist to create, and above all the gift. This year Y/N wanted to give Tom something that held a lot of sentimental value to represent all the love she had for him. While Y/N was lucky enough to have someone like Tom to spoil her and show her just how much she meant to him, she wanted to do the same for Tom. So, she went to the spare room, which had now become her new work space and started googling away.

May 26, 2020 (T-Minus 6 Days)

The next day, Tom and the boys went out for their daily Golf match, while Y/N stayed behind to continue party planning. She made sure to be discreet about it and pretended that she had to take care of a few things for work. In reality, Y/N facetimed her best friend, on advice of what to get Tom for his 24th.

“C’mon Im serious Nico. I want to give him something special this year.” Y/N groaned when she knew her best friend wasn’t giving her the answers she wanted.

“Im sorry, Y/N. I dont know what you could give him. You’ve know him better than anyone else.” Nico reasoned, as Y/N continued her helpless groans, banging her head on the table. “Look Im sure what ever you come up with, Tom is going to love it no matter what.”

“But that’s the problem I don’t know what I can come up with. Our first year together I got him clothes, last year it was golfing gear, I don’t know how I can top that.” Y/N continued to stare at the desk picking up and dropping her pencil repeatedly. “I just know that I want it to be something he can always look back at and know that I’ll always be there for him.”

“Wow. You really like this kid don’t ya?” Nico questioned, but of course she knew the answer to that...anyone did.

“Yeah...more than anything.” Y/N smiles back as she thinks about Tom.

“Well what about a promise ring?” Y/N’s ears perk up at the suggestion.

“Like uhhh a men’s promise ring? Do they even make promise rings for men?” She questions, though isn’t opposed to the idea.

“No, Im talking about a donkey’s promise ring.” Nico rolls her eyes. “It’d be cute and not to mention empowering because you’d be making the first move. Empowering women is super attractive.”

Y/N stops to give it some thought. It would be cute to have a ring for him and see him wear it everywhere knowing he would carry a symbol of her love. Of course it’s nothing like the real thing when couples get married and all, but it’s a step toward that direction. “Ill think about it.” She says.

May 27, 2020 (T-Minus 5 Days)

Y/N had finally given the idea a good 8 hours when she decided to find the ring. She scrolled through pages and pages to find the ring but none of them spoke to her or looked like it was meant for Tom. The more she scrolled the more anxious she got, slowly biting ther thumb nail as she continued.

“You know if you’re gonna do birthday shopping for someone in the house, the kitchen might not be the best place to do it.” A deep british voice popped up from behind.

Y/N shrieked and jumped, quickly closing her laptop, afraid she had already ruined the surprise. Until she turned around and saw it was just Harrison. “Ugh, was it reallg necessary to do that?” She whined. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Of course wheres the fun in simply asking what you’re doing.” He laughed, pulling a chair next to Y/N as he watched her scroll through pages or rings. His smile growing ever so slightly. Y/N looked at him with suspicion.

“Okay I know that smile...clearly you know something I don’t.” She states. “Is this a bad idea?”

Harrisons smile dropped quickly as he profusely shook his head. “What? What? No...I just uhh — actually yeah the rings are not a good idea.” He blabbers. Y/N looks at him, waiting for Harrison to continue. “I mean think about it. If you buy a ring for Tom and he starts wearing it everywhere. People are gonna suspect that he’s getting married or worse find out about your relationship. I don’t know if you wanna risk that.”

Harrison was lucky to be a gifted actor as he improv-ed his answers on the spot in hopes that Y/N did not find him to be too suspicious. If she called his bluff and found out, Tom would make sure Harrison would never see the light of day. “You should go for this necklace. I think it suits him and has a touch of your style.” Harrison points out to a necklace he truthfully thought she should get him. With that, he quickly left Y/N to be on her own in gift shopping.

May 28, 2020 (T-Minus 4 Days)

Y/N’s planning was 70% in the clear. The necklace was ordered, Sam was helping out in planning the food, Harrison and Tuwaine were arranging the golf diversion plan, and Harry was keeping Tom busy making sure he wasnt suspecting anything. Although that didn’t stop Tom from bothering his girlfriend a couple of hours of the day. How could he not, the boy missed his girl.

“Y/N..” Tom cooed as he wrapped his hands around her, kissing a small part of her shoulder. “Can you take a break from whatever arts and crafts thing you got going on and cuddle with me?” He continued as he placed another kiss.

“Babe, I’d love to more than anything but I wanna finish this up so I can at least accomplish one thing during Quarantine.” She explains.

“You accomplish a lot of things darling, and you can accomplish another if you just come and cuddle with your needy boyfriend, who happens to be turning 24....in 4 days.” He hinted, places kisses by ear.

“Oh and I suppose that gives you special treatment?” Y/N challenges, letting out giggles as Tom continued to kiss where she was ticklish the most.

“I would hope so. Now, what do you say?” He smiles at her, placing the small strand of black hair behind her ear.

“Okay you win.” She whispers.

May 29, 2020 (T-Minus 3 Days)

Tom and Harry were busy hosting the Pub Quiz, while Y/N and Harrison took the time to create the decorations for Tom’s party. The theme... Spiderman, but what else was new. Harrison drew up webs and spiders on the deflated red and blue ballooms, stashing them in a paper bag to be inflated the day of. Y/N started on the birthday pub quiz answer sheets, customizing them to have that personal touch of Tom. Everything was going smoothly until, she needed more glue.

“Crap, Im gonna check the closet. I think we have a few spare sticks of hot glue.” Y/N stated, as she got up.

Harrison eyes started to display signs of panic as he quickly got up and raced her to it, guarding the closet door. “Uh...there’s no more. I already checked.” He squeaked.

Y/N raised her one eyebrow in suspicion. “I’m pretty sure there’s a couple.” She fired back, trying to pry Harrison off the closet. “C’mon Harrison. This isn’t funny.”

“I think it is.” Harrison continued to stall. Y/N rolled her eyes, coming closer to him, wiggling her fingers. She tickled his sides, knowing it was his weak spot. His grip started to loosen as he let out fits of giggles. Y/N took the opportunity to quickly open the closet, and grab her glue sticks. She looked around to find if anything was suspicious or worth hiding, but there was nothing.

“You know...you’re acting really weird.” Y/N stated as she walked back to the table to continue her project. Once she was out of Harrison’s sight, he quickly texted Tom about the dilemma. Only to receive:

Time to find a new spot then.

May 30, 2020 (T-Minus 2 Days)

It was Tom & Y/N’s turn to wash the dishes after dinner. The irony both had no clue what one was planning for the other. They were always the type to be truthfully honest to each other, but a few little playful secrets couldn’t hurt. “So, is it just me or is Harrison acting really...strange?” She asked her boyfriend. Tom looked at her, pretending to not know what she was talking about.

“Umm..not sure. He seemed fine to me....Why? What’s happened?” Tom asked casually, focusing on the dishes.

“You know for someone that’s really good at acting, you’re a terrible liar.” Y/N laughed out loud, only to get splashed with water. “Touche. But seriously, he gets so nervous around me. Like someone’s out to get him if I do something he doesn’t expect. I wanted to get glue sticks yesterday in the closet and he straight up guarded the door, saying I wasn’t allowed....in out own closet?! I swear it’s like he’s hiding something in there.”

“Haz, you div.” Tom muttered under his breath.

“What was that babe?”

“Uhh nothing. I was just saying Harrison is a piece of work. Even I couldn’t tell you why he was acting like that.” He lied.

“Uh..huh.” Y/N responded, not buying anything but rather just letting it be.

Tom placed the dishes on the rack, while he came up behind his girlfriend, huggling her tightly from behind. “It’s whatever. But, lets just go back to our room, lay under the sheets, watch some Netflix....have a good time.” He smirked, kissing her temple. “And just cuddle like there’s no one watching.”

“Mmmm. Now that sounds like a plan.” She whispers pulling him to their room.

May 31, 2020 (T-Minus 1 Day)

Y/N only had 1 day left to prepare everything for Tom’s big day. She made sure to stay on top of everyone’s tasks and prepped her gifts for Tom tomorrow. Y/N was extremely proud of everything and everyone that was taking part of her little project. A rare sight anyone would ever see, but the most thing she was proud of was how secretive they were able to keep it that Tom didnt suspect a single thing.

“So, got anything planned for tomorrow?” Tom asked Y/N as she was cooking pancakes.

“Mmm I dont know. Am I supposed to have something to do tomorrow?” She teases.

“Well..” He starts as he takes the spatula out of her hands. “I hear it this div’s birthday tomorrow.” Tom grabs Y/N’s waist, picking her up and placing her on the counter. “And I hear he just wants to spend it with his girls all day long.” Y/N’s legs locked around Tom’s waist as he continues his not-so-obvious birthday wish.

“Oh there’s gonna be more than one girl at this birthday of his huh? He must be quite the player.” She smiles at him, fingers thresding through the small brown hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Well yeah because Tessa is his princess but Y/N, this really cute adorable hot girl who doesn’t think she’s hot but should really start seeing it...that HIS princess.” He explained, kissing every visible spot on her face. “It would make his 24th. Trust me.”

Y/N pretends to stall and think about his wish. He knew he was going to get Y/N and Tom time together no matter what, but where’s the fun in just expecting it. “We’ll see about that birthday boy.”

June 1, 2020 (Party Time!!)

The boys were all out celebrating Tom’s birthday at the golf course at the start of the day. Of course that wasn’t until Tom made sure to get some extra love and attention from his girlfriend first thing in the morning. Y/N quickly rushed to get the decorations in place, while Nikki, Tom’s mother helped in setting the table and getting the food ready with cleR and concise instructions from Sam to ensure they couldn’t mess it up.

“Y/N this was such a wonderful idea. I cant wait to see his face when he comes home.” She exclaims, giving Y/N the most comforting hug.

“Thank you Nikki, I just want it to be perfect for him this year. I mean we’re all in Quarantine and all of us are finally together in one place.” Y/N explains as she places the final ballons up by the doorway.

“Well of this is how you prepare for a birthday, I can’t wait to see how you prep for your wedding.” Nikki responds, only half joking.

“He hasn’t even proposed yet!” Y/N laughs, though the thought makes her stomach flutter in the best way possible. Being married to Tom was all she could ever want in life.

“Well, dont you worry. Im sure it’ll happen, that boy can’t gona second without you I’d be surprised if he doesnt....May just have to chastise him if he takes too long.”

Y/N was starting to grow a bit suspicious. This whole week alone was filled with suspicion. Harrison acting weird, Tom being extra needy and cuddly, Nikki talking about marriage. “Was Tom going to propose soon? “ she thought to herself.

Just in the nick of time, the boys had all arrived after an intense game of golf. They came in bursting in conversation about how great it was, who deserved to win, and of course how Dom was always getting beat at his own game by his sons. Of course the festivities didnt start yet, until Tom took a moment to shower and dress up. It wasnt that he needed to, but for him..it was extremely necessary for today.

Y/N went up to grab her presents for Tom in the work closet, when all of a sudden, a small box landed on her head. She looked up then down towards where the item fell, only to see a sparkling pink and clear diamon cut ring. “Oh my god” she muttered.

“Bullocks.” Tom spoke out loud wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his torso.

“I...uh..Im sorry Tom. I swear I wasn’t looking for it I was just trying to get my gift so I could give it to you. I didnt know this was your hiding spot.” She frantically explains picking up the box and giving it to him.

Tom looked a little disappointed as he stared at the ring. He had worked so hard to keep it a secret from everyone only to get it ruined on his brirthday. “No no no. It’s fine Y/N, really. I just...I was planning on giving this to you next month on your birthday.”

Y/N opens her mouth realizing how bad she messed it up. “Oh my god. Tom Im so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He laughs. “Actually kinda glad you found it. So now I can do this”. Tom gets down on one knee, his towel still wrapped around his torso. “Y/N, I have loved you more than I could ever love anyone in the past 3 years I’ve known you. I swear I could have sworn I was going to marry you the day I met you at the Marvel office with your little black Dell notebook in your hands. Your humor, your kindess, your sympathy and empathy for all living things makes me love you even more. Will you make me the happiest birthday man on earth, and marry me?” He proposes.

Y/N tears up and shakes her head vigorously. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She cries, repearing the words as she hugs him on the floor. They lean in giving into a passionate kiss, still holding onto each other. Y/N and Tom couldn’t believe it was real. Just a couple of seconds they were boyfriend and girlfriend..now they’re engaged. “Wait. I almost forgot about your presents.” She quickly speaks out grabbing the bag.

“Darling, believe me you were my present. I am beyond satisfied right now.” He chuckles.

“I know, but I got you these too!” Y/N pushes the bag to him. Tom shakes his head as he opens it up find a silver necklace with a retangular pendant, and a major jar full of post- it notes. He observes the necklace and opens up the retangular pendant to find a picture of Y/N and him during their firsf year together. He smiled back at the memory, now seeing as to where they’ve ended uo. Stronger and better than before. Next, he opened the major jar pulling out a small card that read:

For whenever you’re down, need a laugh or missing me.

He picked up a post it note that more pictures of them during their time together with a note saying:

“Remember that you’re the reason we all smile. You are a warm loght of happiness that does not stop giving to the world.”

Tom tears up at the gift. In all his years, no one has ever given him soemthing that held so much sentimental value. “I love you so much Y/N. Thank you for this...for all of this.” He whispers, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

“Your welcome. I hope you know you mean the world to me too, and I just wanted your birthday to be perfect.”

“It already is...because I have you.” He looks back at her and smiles.

“Cmon birthday boy. Get dressed, we have a party to attend to and news to share .” Y/N laughs as she helps her boyfriend...I mean fiance up. Who said that quarantine birthdays were boring?

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl @parkerspillow

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

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thorne93 · 4 years ago

Text

The Stars Made Us (Part 21)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 1911

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong and @arrow-guy and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mordo began escorting you around, giving you a tour of the grounds.

“And that’s all,” he said as he turned around to face you two. “Now, at Kamar-Taj, we don’t allow distractions. That means that you will have to take refuge somewhere else.”

You frowned, looking between Stephen and Mordo. “Oh, I thought I could stay. I’m pretty far from home.”

“I realize that but here is a sacred area for study, training.”

“Well I just thought… Stephen’s all alone. I think he’d be much better suited if I was here, with him.” Panic started to course through you as you instinctively moved closer to Stephen.

“I’m sorry it’s just--”

“Can she really not stay?” Stephen suddenly asked. “The Ancient One already said she has a disposition for the mystic arts. Maybe she can help me with my study and training.”

Mordo began shaking his head. “I wish I could but--”

“Master Mordo, is our new recruit already causing difficulty?” the Ancient one asked as she stepped up to the three of you.

“Uh, Stephen and Y/N here would like to stay together on site. I have been insisting that unless they are both enrolled in the training, that they can’t both stay.”

The Ancient One nodded. “While it is true that we don’t advise distractions, I think in this case, Y/N here will be an asset. Soulmates are a very sacred and spiritual bond, something that I think Mr. Strange will need.”

“Are you sure?” Mordo asked, frowning. Clearly he believed you would not be a benefit.

“Yes,” she said as she looked at you and Stephen. “Welcome to Kamar-Taj.”

And off she went before Mordo showed you to your living quarters.

“Bathe, rest, meditate if you can. The Ancient One will send for you,” he instructed as lit a candle as he handed Stephen a small slip of paper.

“Uh, what’s this? My mantra?” he joked sarcastically.

“The Wi-Fi password. We’re not savages,” he said with a grin before leaving.

You and Stephen were now alone, and painfully aware of the quaint quarters of the single sized bed, a small chest of drawers, and a desk with a lamp. You never stayed the night at Stephen’s, and other than helping him shower, neither of you had done anything remotely romantic or physical.

But now, it was staring you in the face that you’d have to share a bed and live in a room as big as his walk in closet.

“So,” you said, dragging it out.

“So, uh, yeah, one bed,” he noted, gesturing vaguely to it.

“You know, I can just sleep on the floor.”

“That's preposterous,” he scoffed.

“Well, you’re the one in actual training. You’re the one with the damaged hands,” you reminded. “You need the real rest.”

“We could always… share.”

“Share?”

“Yes, soulmates share everything, right?” he asked with a bit of a cocky smile.

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I suppose they do.” You put your suitcase on the bed and said, “Well, you relax, I’ll unpack us.”

He walked over and started pulling things from the suitcase, making you frown. “We can unpack. I have nerve damage, I’m not dead.”

A half smile lit up your face as you worked with him to get your clothes put away and you got your laptop out and connected it to the wifi. You sent an email to Charles to update him while Stephen got a bath.

The Ancient One retrieved him and you stood awkwardly in the room.

“Should I come with you two or…?” you asked unsure what to do while Stephen went onto this training.

“Mr. Strange should be alone for his training, but you’re welcome to explore the grounds or go to the library,” she responded with a soft smile.

“Thank you.”

“Be back,” Stephen said with a bit of a small smile. You nodded and they left.

You took up the Ancient One’s offer to explore. You got to learn the building you were in very well before Stephen ran into you in the hallway. You two got some dinner on the grounds, even though it was very late. There was a small kitchen that stayed open until midnight and they cooked small meals for people.

When you were finished, you went back to the small room where again, suddenly the tight quarters made you hyper aware of the situation.

“Uh, guess we should start getting ready for bed,” you said awkwardly.

Stephen raised his eyebrows in response. “Yes, I suppose we should.”

“Well, I’ll just… grab my stuff,” you said quickly before grabbing your things from the drawer and running into the bathroom.

This felt so odd. In one sense, it felt absolutely right. He was your soulmate after all. In another sense, it felt bizarre. Like an arranged marriage. Maybe Stephen was right about being “forced” to be with someone.

But, despite the awkwardness, you did feel attracted to Stephen. Although you’d only seen the unkempt version of him, you were attracted to his body style, his arms. You’d seen him entirely naked, but when you saw him that way, it was strictly clinical. Sex or physical attraction was the absolute last thing on your mind.

But now, the stakes were different. You weren’t his nurse anymore. You weren’t his cook any more. For right now, you were his companion. All of the other roles were stripped away. In this little room, you two were just two soulmates.

His wit and intellect helped too. You were a bit of a pushover for a guy with charm, arrogance, and a genius mind to back it all up.

You slipped into your shirt and shorts before taking a deep breath and exiting the bathroom. Stepehen was already under the covers, his eyes fixated on you as you walked over and put your clothes in a pile beside the bed. He was propped up on his elbow.

Without making much of a fuss, you just drew back the covers and got into bed, laying on your back. You stared at the ceiling.

“Is this uncomfortable for you?” he asked, clearly not fazed by the situation.

“No,” you managed to say, shaking your head.

“Is Charles okay with this?” he asked.

“Yes, he said I’m not his property and I can do whatever I please.”

He nodded in surprise. “Wow, quite the free spirit.”

“Understanding,” you corrected. “But enough about that. How was your first day? Did you learn anything?” you asked as you rolled to face him.

“Not much, but it’ll take time. I was given some homework, some light reading.” He gestured to the three books on the desk.

“Ah so just some pamphlets,” you joked back.

“Right. I’ll have them read in no time though. I’ll start at dawn.”

“Nothing determined about you,” you teased.

“You don’t become the world’s leading neurosurgeon because you’re a slacker,” he shot back.

You simply nodded in understanding. “I’m glad you stayed. I’m happy you’re doing this.”

This time, it was his turn to nod. His eyes went down to the sheets. “Not that I have much choice, but thank you.”

After a moment of quiet, you had a thought swimming in your head. “The watch… who gave it to you?” you asked.

“Jealous?”

“No,” you honestly answered. “Curious.”

“Christine,” he answered.

“Ah. Do you still love her?”

“A bit, yes, but, not enough for a relationship. We’re better as friends.”

“You don’t have to try and convince me, Stephen. If you still love her, that’s fine. I won’t come between you two.”

“First of all, I don’t lie to protect anyone, ever, so remember that. Secondly, I don’t love her like that, that’s true. Third, I never said I don’t want you to come between us.”

A heat rose to your cheeks quickly. This was the closest thing to romance Stephen had said to you. Sure he made a few nice comments here or there, but ultimately, they were more polite than anything.

“Right,” you said. “I’m sorry about your watch, about earlier. I wish I could’ve helped. I should’ve hit harder.”

“Do you always do that? Take the blame for someone else’s actions?”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Uh, I didn’t realize I did it. Um, I suppose, yes.”

“Must be a heavy burden to carry around all the time.”

You shrugged. “Not really.”

Stephen stared at you and you at him, both of you getting lost in each other's eyes. You never noticed how blue-gray his eyes were, how haunting they were. They held a mystery to them as well as a certain… tenderness.

“You’re going to do great here,” you suddenly said.

“Oh? How do you know that? Do you have a crystal ball? Or, no, wait, you’re psychic, that’s what the Ancient One was talking about, is that it?” he joked, laughing loudly.

You pushed him while laughing. “Okay, jackass. No, you’re a fantastic surgeon. Regardless of why you do your work, you must’ve done it very well for the paycheck you were getting. To be speaking at conventions and conferences. You love your job and this will get it back for you, so I know you’ll put your heart and soul into it.”

He looked down. “I do it because… because my sister was hurt once when I was fifteen. I helped her and I became fascinated with this idea of healing. But then, when I came home for my 19th birthday, we were swimming together and… she drowned. Doctors said her muscle cramped up and she couldn’t stay afloat. It seemed like i was only turned around for a minute, but I guess a minute was all it took.”

You frowned, feeling a wave of sympathy and sorrow wash over you. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. Yeah, after that, medicine didn’t hold the same wonderful mystique about it. But I also became determined to save lives. It just wasn’t personal any more. If I couldn’t save her…” He let the idea hang in the air. “It’s just not good to get invested in your patients, because if they don’t make it…”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Now it all made sense. He was terrified to get close to patients, to love people. He’d known loss, and didn’t want to experience it again, and to be honest, you didn’t blame him.

“I am so sorry you’ve had to go through that.”

He shrugged. “We’ve all had hardships, right?”

“Doesn’t make them any less heartbreaking.”

“You must think I’m an asshole, though. That my concern with the patients starts and ends with the bill.”

“I don’t think you see patients as a number, or a check waiting to be cashed. I think you just don’t emotionally involve yourself. Even if you did, what would it help? Clearly, not involving yourself has still got you world wide success and being known as one of the top surgeons in your field. So, motives aside, you do your job and do your job well. As a patient, that’s all I would care about.”

“And what about as a person? As a soulmate?” he asked, his voice low.

“My answer is the same.”

He smiled at you, touched by your answer. “There I go, underestimating you again.”

You smiled and laughed before the two of you drifted off to sleep, exhausted from a long day. But for the first time Stephen could remember, he slept soundly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

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#the stars made us #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier fic #charles xavier #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years ago

Text

How You Two Meet- Harry Potter Preference

A/N: Hello! Well, here is the first of the Harry Potter Preference series! This is my first time writing for Harry Potter, as I’m still kind of new to the whole fandom. Please be gentle with any feedback because I’m really nervous about this. I love the boys in the HP universe; these seven being my top favorites. I hope I have done these boys justice because I tired to be as accurate as possible, like I always try to do with any of my works. Some of the information has been made up but for the most part, everything should be accurate. If there’s something incorrect, please let me know!

Y/H/H = Your Hogwarts House

Y/L/N = Your last name

Word Count: 2,469

Warnings: Bullying, self-doubt, shyness, FLUFF!

Requests to be tagged in this series is OPEN! Feedback is ALWAYS welcome and greatly appreciated!

Check out my masterlist of masterlists to see all the fandoms I write for! All fandom requests are currently OPEN!

-M

Harry: You and Harry met one day in your First Year, when you accidentally bumped into him in a hallway, as you were exploring the grounds of the school, without your house or permission.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” you say, looking up to the young boy in front of you, big round eyes focusing in on yours.

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” he says, adjusting his glasses as they have been thrown out of place in the incident.

“Miss (y/l/n), Mr. Potter, what are you two doing outside of your houses? It is after hours and you two are not accompanied by an elder of your houses,” Professor McGonagall said, eyeballing the two First Years suspiciously.

“I’m sorry Professor McGonagall, but I got lost. I heard a disturbing noise coming from one of the paintings and I wanted to make sure everything was okay,” you quickly think up a lie.

“I see, and what about you, Mr. Potter?” Her attention now focusing on the legacy student.

“I heard the noise too and when I came out to look, I noticed Miss (y/l/n) was in the dark so I had my wand to illuminate the wall,” Harry lied too, taking your side.

“I see, well off to bed, the both of you!” McGonagall said, demanding you two headed back to your house before she left swiftly.

“(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), (Y/H/H).” You say, introducing yourself and house to Harry.

“Harry Potter, Gryffindor, but I guess you knew that already,” he chuckled nervously at his celebrity.

“Well, goodnight, Harry Potter of Gryffindor,” You nod to him.

“Goodnight (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) of (Y/H/H),” He says, nodding back to you, smiling at you.

Draco:

Draco Malfoy was not your favorite person in the beginning. In fact, you found him quite annoying. He didn’t seem like he was owning up to his potential and was more concerned with being the best and everyone in the class was less than he was, instead of actually focusing on being a good wizard, which infuriated you. It wasn’t like attending Hogwarts was affordable for everyone; you were in on a scholarship. And Draco made sure to let everyone else know, that his father was the esteemed Lucius Malfoy, one of the wealthiest men in England. It was in Snape’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class, where you finally had had enough of Malfoy’s attitude.

“What a failure,” you heard him mutter to his Slytherin friends at one of the students in the class who couldn’t grasp a lesson Snape was teaching.

“You know what Malfoy, no one cares about your Father or all the money you have. The only one who actually cares about any of that is you. You don’t have anything worthy of being at school except for the silver spoon in your mouth that you were born with, so why don’t you go back home to your Father and complain to him about every little inconvenience that you encounter? Maybe he could sympathize with you cause no one here certainly does,” You say, quickly turning back around in your seat to face the front of the class again before Snape had told you to pipe down.

“Wait until my father hears about this,” he mutters that famous arrogant speech, but right behind you, to show you he had more leverage. You froze in your seat, afraid to look back at him until Snape forced him back to his seat.

“That will be all, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape says, shooting daggers at the member of his own House.

Draco rolled his eyes but went back to his seat. You were scared to ever look or approach Malfoy again, but he had other ideas. Yes, you were quite the puzzle piece to Draco and he was going to solve you. No one dared to stand up to him, so why did you?

Ron:

What can be said about the gingered-hair boy from Gryffindor? Well, he was your best friend and he held your heart. It started when you were paired with him in your First Year Potions class. Not really sure how to put a potion together, you and Ron being paired up, may not have been Professor Snape's best idea. However, you two rose to the challenge and worked well together. It would’ve been worse if Ron didn’t insist on making you laugh but that is what made you succeed. He watched carefully, as you added different ingredients, eager to step in if something went wrong. To both your surprise, you didn’t mess anything up and the potion was mixed perfectly.

“Hmm, yes, it appears that Weasley and y/l/n have completed the potion. Not bad, for the First Years,” Snape said to the class, showing some form of recognition, but you two weren’t sure how to handle his response.

“Wow, you guys, First Years never can get their potions done right the first time,” Hermione said, impressed with your good work.

“Well I can’t take all the credit, Ron really helped out. He made me laugh and that relaxed me so I could focus and then,” you explain, looking to your partner, who just smiled at you.

“She has all the talent here; I just helped,” Ron admits, shrugging his shoulders.

“But I couldn’t have done it without you; thank you, Ron,” you say, picking up your books and leaving the class. You felt his eyes on you as you left the room and you were glad, he couldn’t see the blush that had sprouted on your cheeks.

Cedric:

“Come on y/n, you have to come watch the Triwizard Tournament with us,” Hermione said to you, as you wanted to just stay in your room and away from the sea of spectators at the first task of the Tournament.

“No, I’m good right here. I’m just going to read up on spells; I need to get better for the next Charms class,” you say, fighting to stay put.

“Really? You’re the best in our class, well besides Hermione of course. You don’t need to practice anything,” said Ginny, who wanted you to go just as much as Hermione seemed to.

“Yeah come on, y/n, Cedric Diggory is going to be there,” Cho teased, as Ginny and Hermione joined in on the giggles of affection for an attractive boy. Sure, you thought Cedric to be cute, but he was one of the most sought-after boys in the Tournament, along with Harry and Viktor Krum. No way would someone like Cedric even know you were alive.

When you had joined the group of students and faculty of Hogwarts as the first task of the tournament began. The champions of each school, went one at a time, to capture an egg from a dragon. This didn’t sound too difficult at first but as you sat on the edge of your seat, watching each champion struggle to get their egg, it proved to be near impossible. However, each champion had eventually achieved their goals and made it to the next round of the tournament.

“Oh alright, if it will get you lot to shut up!” You say, and jump up to get ready; your friends doing the same.

“Hey, let’s go congratulate the winners!” Hermione said, dashing down the stands and to an area where spectators could visit with the champions, as long as they knew one of the champions of course.

“Hi, Harry!” She bounces up to her brunette friend, hugging him immediately. “You did so great, we were all so worried!” Harry chuckled, hugging each of you before he talked about how the first task was for him.

“Hey Potter, good work out there,” a voice from behind you said, suddenly drawing on them.

“Hey, thank you, Cedric. You too,” Harry said, shaking the hand of his opponent, as all the girls had their eyes on the Hufflepuff, even you.

“What? Oh, uh, yeah, good, good job Cedric,” You say softly, avoiding his gaze that was set on you.

“Yeah Cedric, you were amazing, that’s what (y/n) here was saying the whole time you were in the arena,” Cho said, bringing you out of your daze and to the group of students.

“Thank you too, (y/n),” he said, offering you a small smile and eventually starting a friendship with you.

Neville:

Not being the most popular or liked boy in Hogwarts, is what you drew you to Neville Longbottom. You both enjoyed a lot of the same things and you were always there to help him when he struggled with his spells. The other students would laugh at him when a spell backfired and somehow managed to blow up in his face, quite literally, so you took it upon yourself to help out and stand up for him.

With his first attempt at flying, he had managed to completely lose control and ended up crashing, injuring himself quite seriously.

“Hey, not everyone can get these spells down so easily! It’s not like any of us are on the same levels are Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall or whomever else you want to be like; we’re all beginners. Stop picking on him for not getting something perfect his first try!” You yell at every student in your flying class.

“Neville!” You scream as you see him hurt and you rush over to him before Rolanda Hooch tells you to move aside so she could take him to be cared for.

“Why do you defend him? He’s nothing but a waste of a wizard,” Malfoy says, poking fun at the now injured student.

“Because unlike you Draco, he’s a good person, and sometimes people, even magical ones, need help,” you say back to the Slytherin, who just rolled his eyes.

“Oh of course you’re going to stick up for her, Potter!” Draco snarls back, attempting to falter the confidence of the popular Gryffindor but didn’t fumble.

“Just leave her alone, Malfoy,” Harry said coming to your defense.

“Yeah, I am. I’ll stand up for her, for Neville, for anyone who has to put up with the likes of you,” Harry said and you appreciated his support.

“Thanks, Harry,” you smile at him before rushing off to the hospital wing of the school.

“Now I believe there is someone who could really use a friend right about now,” Harry said, turning to you, with his hand on your shoulder.

Fred:

Being a few years ahead of you, made it near impossible to get the attention of one of the Weasley twins. You decided you wanted to get as close to the Weasley family as possible, to see if you could at least become friends with Fred. You knew the Weasleys were a family of strong and passionate people, and when they accepted you, you had friends for life. The legacy of the family was starting to form, as you took notice of all the twins did together. They fought alongside one another in every battle and you knew you wanted to be apart of that somehow. Lucky for you, you had grown to befriend Ginny, and when she would invite you over to her house, you got to see first-hand, how Fred was outside of school. It turned out he wasn’t much different from in school, but he had his mischievous side and he had, on occasion, a more quiet side, that you took notice in. Without thinking or trying too hard, you had become friends with all the Weasley kids, with as often as you were at their home. Fred had made a joke about how you should dye your hair red and you’d fit right in.

“No, I’m not going to dye my hair red just to look like you lot! I like being the only one in this house without any red hair. Plus, I’m not even a Weasley so it doesn’t matter,” You say as you shrug your shoulders.

“Don’t say such a thing, (y/n) you are a huge part of our family, especially since someone here is quite taken with you,” Molly said, shooting a wink your way. Your eyes widened as you thought of who of the Weasleys could like you.

“It’s Fred by the way. He’s just fascinated with you,” George says, coming over to you while you were in the kitchen helping Ginny with the dishes.

“Yep, call it a twin thing, but I know when my brother likes someone and I know he’s interested in you. He’s just testing the waters right now, but don’t be surprised if he ends up asking you out,” and with that, George was gone.

“What?” You say, surprised to hear that anyone liked you.

George:

Much like his twin brother, George was resilient at cracking jokes, making everyone laugh and befriending nearly anyone he came in contact with. Both Weasley twins fought long and difficult battles but their bond was unbreakable, and it was admirable, to say the least. You had shared a class with him every year, and you always sat close behind him and Fred. Surely, the twins were very similar to the other yet very different. It was originally his idea to one day open a toy store but that was a far-off cry from his day-to-day classes as a fifth year. It was then, that he began to show an interest in befriending you.

“Hey, you’re (y/n) right?” He had come over to sit beside you during your lunch hour at school.

“Um, yes,” you said, not sure as to why he was talking to you. He was never rude to you before, but he and his brother always seemed occupied with other friends at school or with his family.

“Well, I just wanted to see if you were okay. I noticed you hadn’t been sitting around me and Fred anymore so I hope you’re okay,” he commented, looking right into your eyes.

“Well yeah, you’ve sat behind us every year now. You think I didn’t notice a pretty face like yours?” He compliments, causing heat to rise on your cheeks.

“You noticed that?” You ask, surprised that he paid any attention to you.

"I guess not," you said, brushing hair behind your ear. “But yes, I am okay, I just…nothing is wrong, thanks,” you avoid the real reason you couldn’t sit near him anymore, but he pushed an idea on you.

You thought about it for a minute, but eventually, took his hand and followed him to where his brothers and sister sat. You had made it a routine to sit with the Weasley children every day, immediately enjoying their company and surprisingly, they accepted you too.

“Well, how about you come and sit with me and my brothers and sister for lunch? You don’t need to be sitting alone,” he said, standing from his seat and offered you a hand up.

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my-happy-little-bean · 3 years ago

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The Bookkeeper – Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Signature Of All Things

pairings: logicality, prinxiety words: 3453 chapter warnings: mild existentialism chapter summary: talks of philosophy, tea, and a smidge of jealousy.

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Fray and Far Fables was filled with flowers.

It was clear that there had been some attempt to hide them, but the flowers were indeed there. Daisies squirmed between the floorboards, pink and lilac petals were flattened under rugs, and strings of ivy were draping off of the shelves.

And in the middle of the store was Patton and Roman.

Logan watched, amused, as Patton stuffed his hands into his overall pockets upon hearing the door open. Grass strands and petals fell down his sides as he smiled sheepishly.

“Oh! Logan! You’re...back early!”

“I am actually on time, Patton.” He looked pointedly at Roman, who had formed his magic into a small broom and began idly whistling as he swept up some more petals under rugs. “It seems more like you both lost track of time.”

“Something like that!” Patton rubbed the back of his neck. “How was the play?”

Logan smiled warmly. “It was brilliant. Annie Baker is such a profound playwright. Her expertise in dialogue, the impact of the silence she marked throughout– The Aliens was such a joy. I would love to take you to the next show, I believe it’s playing again next week…”

“Wow, Specs. Forgot how much of a theatre kid you are.”

Logan stuck out his tongue at Roman. Patton, on the other hand, just grinned even wider.

“I am really happy you’re enjoying all of your art- ventures!”

Logan’s smile faltered. “Well, I wouldn’t say...all…”

“Look, I already apologized for the pottery class– how was I supposed to know that a kids birthday party was happening on that day! Plus, you got such a nice bowl out of it!”

Logan snuck a glance at his messed up attempt at a bowl, sitting on one of his shelves. The sides were lopsided—which was a generous way of saying broken—and there was a chip in its rim. He winced.

“If ‘nice’ is synonymous with ‘mess’...then sure.”

“And speaking of mess!” Patton gestured around the scattered flora in the shop. “Sorry for the...well, mess.”

“Don’t apologize! Adventures get messy, padré!” Roman cut Logan off before he could even speak. Roman threw his broom up and jumped to land on the handle, gliding through the air like he was surfing. Logan rolled his eyes.

“That’s quite alright, Patton. It seems like you both had a pleasant time.”

“We did! I think this one has to be my favourite one yet!”

Logan bit his tongue. Patton had been saying that for every book nook he had visited, and this had to have been his fifth one now. Still, he couldn’t seem to grow tired of the bright glow Patton always brought back to his home.

So he nodded along as Patton recalled his and Roman’s latest adventure. Patton was as lively as ever, animatedly telling the story of boundless scenery and endless amounts of peace and solitude.

At one point in the conversation, Logan even closed his eyes and magically summoned his tea tray from his room to the coffee table in the shop. He hoped that doing so wouldn’t interrupt Patton, but it caught his attention immediately. Roman was especially stunned by the act.

“You still seem to have it in you, huh?” Roman said, half-teasingly and half-impressed. He tipped over his own cup of sugar as Patton stared at Logan, starry-eyed.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you do that before!” Patton added on.

Logan shrugged it off as if it were nothing, but was secretly astounded himself. It didn’t feel new, but it didn’t feel like it was always something he could do either. He had gone on several of Patton’s acclaimed ‘art-ventures’—museums, art classes, a concert for the local orchestra, and now this play—and every week this feeling had only grown.

It felt...refreshing. Something within him must have made a reappearance.

Patton continued his story between sips of tea.

“The book was about this young couple running away from their town and moving to a house on a hill! It was Roman’s choice, so it makes sense that it was so good.”

Logan raised his eyebrow at Roman. “I’ve noticed you’ve been reading a lot of books like that nowadays.”

Roman laughed. “The book interested Patton more than it interested me–” He winked at Logan– “but I could see its escapist value.”

“Mere observation,” Logan murmured, studying Roman’s face for any trace of mockery, but it seemed rather honest. Logan pocketed the thought — perhaps one for later.

“It was so beautiful, Lo. Clear skies, all these flowers…” Patton sighed dreamily. “I could’ve stayed there forever.”

“But you can’t,” Logan reminded him. Patton playfully rolled his eyes, nudging Logan.

“But I can’t,” he echoed back, smiling brightly at him. Soft chills ran through Logan’s spine. It felt like flowers were blossoming within him, weaving themselves through his vertebrae and making him melt into springtime madness.

A familiar feeling with Patton nowadays, he noted.

“Did you end up painting something?” Logan managed to say, taking a long sip of tea. Patton’s eyes lit up.

“Yes! Oh, thank you for reminding me!”

Patton flew off his seat and dashed to the counter. Logan exchanged a look with Roman who just shrugged with a knowing smile.

Patton returned with a rather sizeable canvas and turned it around to face Logan, who gasped.

Sprawled on the canvas was a scene that Logan swore was plucked right out of the air and put on paper. In his immediate line of sight was a hill of bright green with flowery dashes of orange, yellow, blue, and purple struck upon the grass. It looked like you could lie down in each patch and sink right through the canvas.

At the centre line of the painting were some darker shades of green and brown making up trees of various sizes — taller from the left side of the painting and narrowing down as Logan’s vision panned across the canvas. Beside the trees was a small house, and beside the house was the faint outline of two dark silhouettes next to a clothesline. The silhouettes wore dresses that lifted slightly in the wind.

And in the background were those bright blue skies, outstretching far beyond the confinements of the piece, going past mountains smoking clouds.

He could feel the valley wind rush past him just looking at Patton’s painting. He could feel each footstep he would take into each fuzzy patch of flowers. He could feel everything.

Logan felt himself zoom back to reality and locked eyes with Patton.

“I…” For some odd reason, his research question echoed in his head.

‘ Is this what it’s all for?’

“What do you think?” Patton’s voice edged with anticipation. Roman looked oddly unsettled by Logan’s silence. Logan, on the other hand, felt as if so many voices were swarming his head.

‘Art…Escapism…’

“Lo?”

‘It’s...it’s to feel...to be transported...to be–’

“I’m blown away, Patton,” Logan breathed out. It felt like sparks were firing off in his chest. “This...this is incredible.”

Patton’s shoulders loosened as he broke into a wide, rosy smile.

“Ah! Thank you! I worked on it for– oh gosh, like probably half the day! I haven’t ever painted for that long in...well, a long time! And I certainly haven’t finished something in one go in even longer!”

“It’s incredible,” Logan said, echoing himself and lost in his amazement.

“That’s what I told him!” Roman said, patting Patton on the shoulder and flying over to the front of the painting. He pretended to stroll through it. “Took a page right out of the book...nook!”

Patton giggled, still bright red. The warm hue must have radiated off of Patton and grazed Logan’s cheeks, which burned similarly.

“It’s not hard to get in such a flow state in those book nooks.” Patton stared wistfully at the painting, as if trying to go back. “I haven’t been this inspired since...forever.”

“How long have you been doing this sort of stuff?” Roman asked idly, floating back down to the tea tray and taking more sips of sugar. “I’m curious as to where a great mind such as yourself found its running start!”

Patton laughed. “It really isn’t anything special, Roman. Plus I don’t want to bore anyone–”

“You could never,” Logan blurted out. He felt the two’s stares burn right through him. “I...I would enjoy a story, Patton.”

Patton smiled, softer than usual. He leaned the canvas against the side of the armchair and sat back down.

“Well, I’ve been drawing since... forever, really!” He sipped his tea and stared out the window. “My favourite kind of art used to be scrapbooking– I would help my mom with decorating photo albums and eventually, I would make scrapbooks out of stuff I drew.”

“That’s precious ,” Roman beamed. “Imagine the nook you can open out of that!”

“I know! I wish I had kept some before I moved out.”

“I didn’t know you used to do collages, Patton,” Logan chimed in. Patton shrugged.

“It was the art style I liked the most, but one of my professors had challenged me to start making something of my own. It was a real slow start, though. I have always known how to take things that already exist and make them into something new — but I never really knew how to...well, make something new..”

Logan furrowed his brow. For some strange reason, he longed for his notebook. Patton’s words felt like they were moving the puzzle pieces in his head closer and closer together–

In a small spark of navy smoke, his notebook and pen appeared on his lap with a small pop!

Logan blinked at it. ‘Did I…’

He felt a pair of eyes on him. Like a deer in headlights, he lifted his head up and locked eyes with Roman. Roman’s eyes flickered then at Patton, before moving back to Logan’s hands. He stiffened, almost...hurt. A chill ran through Logan’s spine.

“Anyway! I found my footing when I moved into this town and found your bookshop!” Patton continued, seemingly not noticing Logan’s abrupt display of magic. “I...well, I didn’t really have any friends around here so I was doing a lot of exploring for inspiration. And when I found your shop, Logan, I...I don’t know! All the books I bought here were always so vivid.” Patton winked at Roman. “Now I know why!”

“What drew you to books?” Logan asked, leaning forward.

“As I said, I liked to make things out of things that already existed. Making paintings based on books – well, it was a bit of a stepping stone to that, you know?”

“But you’ve never painted a truly original piece.”

“Logan!” Roman hissed. Logan looked at him incredulously.

Patton awkwardly fiddled with his thumbs. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ve ever copied anything– I’m more so inspired by everything – but I guess in the way you frame it...no! No, not really.”

“So why do you make art, Patton?”

A beat of silence. Patton tilted his head to the side. Even Roman looked more than unsettled now. Roman’s gaze landed on Logan’s notebook. He narrowed his eyes at Logan, who cleared his throat.

“Um...I’m not sure!” Patton laughed nervously. “Never gave it much thought. But...I always liked the idea of having my art reach other people, since I’ve gotten my spark from other people. I was given something from someone, made it into something else, and wanted to keep sharing that ‘something’ around! Like– like with the book drawings, for example! Those were all for you.”

Logan felt himself draw back. “They...they were?”

“Who did you think they were for, silly?”

“I...I’m not sure. I just...I didn’t know they were made for me.”

“Well of course they were!” Patton reached over to place a hand on Logan’s knee. Sparks crackled beneath the touch. “I love painting for you.”

Logan could feel Roman staring up at him.

“You know, Albert Camus, a French philosopher, posited that art is inherently selfish,” Logan began slowly, flipping through his notebook. “The meaning of any particular form of art is rooted in his ‘logic of the absurd’ – the idea that the human condition is absurd and must hence be revolted. This makes art lack any intrinsic value, since it goes beyond making a meaningful mark on the world and instead reinforces subjective messages into other–s”

“I think we all need a translation from nerd , Logan,” Roman scoffed, though his voice edged with tension. Logan swore Roman’s aura pulsed red, telling him to stop, you don’t need to make every artist feel useless–

Logan sighed, focusing his attention on Patton.

“Essentially, Camus believed that since art was the sort of ‘carrier’ for messages that only promoted awareness of the absurd and attitudes of revolt, there is no essential meaning to it. It just forces an opinion onto someone else.”

“If I may,” Patton interjected. “I...I don’t really think art forces anything onto anyone.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. Patton simply shrugged.

“Art is our way of making sense of the world, and finding the people that understand that same– or at least, similar– sense. I don’t want to make a mark on the world, and I don’t want to give some definite answers to anything. I...I guess I make art to find where I fit, and I hope others can look at my art and find the same thing.”

Logan nodded, still not writing anything down. He could feel himself reach for more answers, as if they were tied to Patton’s very being.

“Also, Logan,” Patton added. “I think it’s interesting that you bring up Camus’ theories of absurdism – theories stating that it is impossible and thus irrelevant for someone to know or understand the meaning of anything. Wasn’t absurdism sort of Camus’ opposing response to nihilism?”

Logan’s jaw dropped. Patton took another sip of his tea and shrugged.

“I took a few philosophy classes in university.” Patton smiled brightly. “Very interesting stuff!”

Roman snorted. A puff of sugar encircled his head. Logan flushed beet red.

“Right,” he said, trying to compose himself. “So do you agree with Camus?”

“Not entirely. I think it’s hard to tie in Camus’ logic of the absurd to the meaning of art. Artistic value can’t really be reduced to just facts. It’s so much more than logical. However, absurdism as a whole has always fascinated me. If the meaning of art, let’s say, is impossible and irrelevant to understand, then you have so much space to make something out of it.”

“I just don’t understand how you are so optimistic that there is anything– that you can make something from– from nothing .” Logan exhaled a tightly-held breath, though found himself less frustrated and more curious. “Virgil Aries stated that in the constant struggle of possibility and reality, reality is always victorious, because reality is all we have. Your conception of art is so intertwined with possibility in the midst of nothing — how can you be so sure that your contributions are hence meaningful?”

Patton took a second before replying, “Do you really believe there is nothing, Logan?”

Logan blinked. The room fell quiet.

“What...what else could there be?” he murmured.

Roman’s presence darkened — quite literally, actually. Logan could feel his aura dim, as if it were sagging in defeat.

Patton, however, gave him a gentle smile.

“Do you remember when I read The Signature of All Things? Alma and Ambrose heavily considered the idea that the novel is titled after — that there is some kind of unifying principle that connects and explains all phenomena.”

Logan nodded. Patton motioned over to the canvas leaning against his armchair.

“Well, I think I’m trying to find that with my art. I’m trying to leave a signature of my own in places that can only be found if looked for — and I can only do that if I choose to believe there’s something in all the…’nothing’.”

He then shrugged, finishing his cup of tea. “But I don’t think that deeply, really. All I know is that if there is a meaning for anything out there, there’s no point in searching for it. It’s probably too big and very...restrictive. You have to make meaning for yourself, then find the places it fits.”

Logan felt dizzy with the new perspective. Janus’ words mixed with Patton’s as Logan found himself immersed in a snow globe of their thoughts.

“Art worms its way into the spaces that it can fit. And with the help of others, art– and everything it represents– is made bigger than the spaces of life they initially occupy.”

He recalled Patton’s painting.

‘Art...is to feel ...is to not escape nothing but...but rather replace it with something .’

Logan looked up at Patton once more, noticing the way he glowed under the sunlight. His words spun circles around Logan’s head like planetary orbit, and he felt the reverberation of pieces snapping together in his mind.

And here was Patton at the centre of it all, still smiling, not knowing everything yet harbouring a spirit of boundless knowledge and new perspectives. It drew him in like a moth to a flame and he didn’t quite know why, but he didn’t feel like he was in a rush to find out.

They continued to talk for the rest of the day, exchanging theories of philosophy and engaging in friendly debate. Logan found himself laughing at Patton’s anecdotes and becoming stunned by his mind. Halfway through their conversation, Logan realized that this was the first time he truly talked to Patton — and suddenly, he didn’t know how to stop.

Night brimmed the edge of the view outside the shop window, stars beginning to dot the sky. Logan and Patton exchanged one last laugh before Patton stood up, gathering his things.

“Please take the painting, Lo,” Patton said, holding up the canvas to him.

“I cannot seriously begin to understand why you would want me to have this,” Logan replied honestly. “It would fare much better in a more honourable display, perhaps a local exhibit or–

Patton shook his head, grabbing Logan’s hand and guiding it to the edge of the canvas.

“It’s for you,” he said, more quiet and more soft. Logan felt almost electrified by the touch and said nothing, just tucked the canvas under his arm and nodded.

Patton turned to leave before stopping.

“Oh! Nearly forgot this!” He fished a ticket out of his bag. “This is for next week’s art -venture.”

“I insist on finding another name for what we’re doing.”

“Nope! Already branded! Roman’s making t-shirts.”

Roman nodded diligently. Logan rolled his eyes and took the ticket.

“ ‘The Rom-Com...Comeback’,” Logan read aloud. He frowned. “I am confused.”

“It’s a ‘throwback rom-com’ event at the cinema– the small one ‘round the corner!” A sheepish pause. “It’s less of an...‘intellectual’ art exploration.”

“What does that mean?”

“...It means we’re watching a movie with Adam Sandler in it.”

“Absolutely not .”

“But hijinks ensue!” Patton pleaded. “Come on, Lo. I know it’s not your usual rodeo but it is fun! And isn’t that the most important lesson that can be learned? A lesson about fun? ”

“That is a complete stretch, Patton.”

“How about I come with you? And I’ll treat you to ice cream or something.” He smiled. “Consider this me sweetening the deal.”

A pause.

“...And this is next week?”

“Ahh yay! That’s a yes!” Patton swung his arms over Logan’s shoulders before Logan could protest, wrapping him in a quick hug. “I’ll pick you up from here an hour or two before!”

“O...kay…” Logan felt his face go warm once more as Patton let go, waving at him as he left the store. The bells hanging over the door chimed as it closed.

Logan stood there, almost dumbfounded, and pocketed the ticket. He looked up at the door Patton left through and felt a smile grow on his face.

And suddenly, he wanted it to be next week.

“Well, Roman, I suppose we’re going to have to find somewhere to hang this upsta–”

He turned to face the coffee table where he assumed Roman still was, but found nothing. He frowned, looking around the shop for any trace of him.

“Roman?”

Suddenly, he heard the muffled sound of a door closing coming from upstairs. His gaze darted to the staircase and he saw a trail of red magic leading up the stairs, presumably to the bedroom. He stared at it, not knowing what to make of it and Roman’s wordless departure; but a second later, he blinked, and then caught sight of Roman’s magic fading quietly into the air.

…

(It isn’t easy, after all, to see someone glow without you.)

—

next chapter >

#TS Storytime 2021 #gabbie writes things #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan/patton #roman/virgil #logic/morality #creativity/anxiety

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years ago

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chapter one: double deuces

chapter one of book three, of course ;)

"tell me a story (will ya, will ya) a real good story (I won't leave till ya) spill your guts old man; leave out any secrets, hiding in the... any skeletons, and all your other sins any skeletons, in the closet! any skeletons, any misfortunes any skeletons, hiding in the closet! any skeletons, any skeletons in the closet!"

“Happy birthday, my dear friend.”

Aurora had taken Sam out to that Vietnamese restaurant for lunch on her birthday. Twenty two years old and she could feel the very essence of age over her head. In New York for two years and it all felt like a blur and the clear real thing all at the same time. In a year's time, she would be on the brink of her mid twenties: it all felt so ephemeral and so quick at the same time. It felt so odd to think that not even four years ago she was still in high school and she had gone into a strange brand new place in the meantime.

Four years felt like a lifetime ago, especially since she looked on at her black hair and she swore it was growing lighter over her temples. It could have just been the reflection of the glass in the mirror for all she knew, but when she went to brush her hair, she swore there were some light tendrils near the crown. As long as it didn't turn into a striking pearly white silver color, she knew she would be fine.

Aurora raised her white china tea cup for a toast to her. The soft aroma of the green tea comforted her, and she followed suit with her own cup.

Ever since she and Emile had gotten together, and ever since she had gotten that dress for Kirk's wedding the next weekend, Aurora had been dressing up more nicely: at the moment, she had a rich deep purple velvet sweater wrapped around her body and a little red rose tucked behind her ear. Despite the bitter New York cold, she started wearing more floral print tights to go with her skirts; Sam had to take a second look at her face to make out the sight of the black eye liner about the smooth edges of her eyes.

Sam herself meanwhile found herself drawn more to black—Aurora said it was because of her hanging out with Testament the past couple of weekends as well as Joey on certain days after school.

“I think it could also be because I'm in the arts,” she told her the day before. “Marla wears a bunch of black and Belinda has been wearing a lot of it, too.”

“Hangin' around the arts and hangin' out with a bunch of heavy metal dudes,” Aurora chuckled.

The art scene seemed so far away from her given she was a student and she even began to struggle with classes in recent days. Indeed, the thought of forfeiting college itself to live down in the real bohemian side of New York City was more tempting than ever to her. But she had nestled in the Bronx, three floors over Frank and down the block from Charlie and Marla. It was either pick up and go live alone in another part of town or stay there and continue to do what felt like spinning her wheels day in, day out. Sam tried to not let her thoughts cast a shadow on her own birthday, but she couldn't help but look at her own reflection in her tea cup and frown.

“Maybe it's all the doing stuff after school that's getting to you,” Aurora told her. “We haven't really seen Marla in the past few weeks.”

“No, we haven't,” Sam confessed as she gazed out the window at the snow drifts along the sidewalk.

“Well, if it's any comfort, I've been getting antsy myself,” Aurora said. “Emile wants me to move in with him but it's gonna be hard to do it especially if it's just him who's helping me with the move.”

“And you're going from Long Island up to the Bronx, too,” Sam added, “it was bad enough for me to get my bed up the stairs in that building.”

“It was tricky for me, too,” Aurora continued. “And you and I also moved across country, too.”

“And how—from around the same area, no less. Well, San Diego is way further south in comparison to Lake Elsinore, but it's near the same range, though.”

“It's all within range of L.A., that's for sure. L.A. and Riverside.”

“Hey, if Greg, Eric, and Louie can talk nonsense while they're in the studio, we can, too,” Sam pointed.

“Makes sense—Southern California exiles, the both of us.” Aurora raised her cup again to her and they clinked them together before they took a sip in unison.

“When's your birthday, by the way?” Sam asked her as she held her cup close to her mouth. “I can't remember if you told me or not.”

“May twenty ninth.”

“Oh, I see. I kept thinking it was in October for some reason.”

Aurora chuckled at that. “Well, I haven't really made it much of a point because my parents always treated birthdays different in comparison to that of American culture. I always wanted an American style birthday party growing up in San Diego but that's probably the one thing they brought over from the Korean peninsula is the way birthdays are treated.”

“And how's that?”

“When we reach a certain age, they have different celebrations for them. Like your first birthday is 'dol' or three hundred sixty five days since you were born, and that came from the fact Korea didn't have as good of protection on their newborns as we do here: so when you made it to your first birthday, it was significant. The family says a prayer for the kid and then they eat rice, seaweed soup, and rice cakes—my mom has a photo of me from my 'dol', I'll have to show it to you if and when we go out to San Diego together. They have cake and candles just like Americans, but the cake is far different—it's a lot more savory than it is sweet. And on New Year's, they eat a soup so they can finish up the age they are for the certain year. So you're actually considerably older on the peninsula than you are here. If you're ten years old, in Korea, you're considered eleven or twelve.”

“Wow.”

“And when you reach fifteen years of age, and you're female, you're considered an adult. That said, I'm glad I'm a born American because I can't imagine coming to New York City as a fifteen year old.”

“I can,” Sam said.

“You can?”

“As a boy.” She thought about Alex right then.

“Now, boys have to wait 'til they're twenty before they're considered adults.”

“So Alex would still be considered a boy right now?” she asked her. “Being eighteen?”

“Yes!” Aurora then burst out laughing and clapped her hands at that. “Oh, god, I just pictured him in the traditional horse hair hat that boys have to wear on their twentieth birthday, and I also just pictured him picking up a giant rock and lifting it over his head, too.”

“How giant are we talking, exactly?”

“One that dwarfs his entire body.” Aurora raised an eyebrow at that.

“I dunno, Aurora,” Sam confessed with a shake of her head, “—he's pretty thin but he's also got that little bit of baby fat left on him. He looks pretty soft.”

“Bet you he's way stronger than he looks.”

“Joey is,” Sam continued as she brought her cup back up to her lips.

“Joey is!”

“Mr. Hockey Player—yeah, that boy's tougher than nails.”

“Well—we are going to be in the Bay Area next weekend,” Aurora pointed out. “A whole weekend of doing stuff while Kirk and—Rebecca, I think is his fiancée's name?—while they're getting married. We all can just hang out and be a bunch of genuine friends together for a couple of days.”

Sam squinted her eyes at that.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked her in a low voice.

“You'll see. And maybe Exodus and Death Angel will want in on the fun, too. Fun with the 'little four'.” She flashed Sam a wink as she sipped from her tea once again. Right then, the sole waitress in the restaurant showed up at their table with their bowls of pho: chicken for Sam, vegetarian for Aurora. One more toast and they both dipped into their bowls of fresh hot soup.

At least that night she was to have cupcakes courtesy of Marla, forty dollars courtesy of Belinda, and a jovial phone call from her parents that night. Nothing more, nothing less, but at the same time, she wished for more and she knew that her flight back out to California that next Friday was the start of something for her. Something big and grand, like that next weekend in the Bay Area. It would take place on a day that wasn't her birthday, but it would be something.

Since it was Wednesday, after lunch, she headed back to school for the rest of the day and then back to her place in the Bronx. She stepped in through the front door: the first thing she noticed was the vase of yellow tulips on the table. They had lasted so long, and for so long in the heart of the first winter following Cliff's passing, but she noticed the wilt as it began to settle in on the yellow petals.

She would keep them there on the table until the pure yellow color vanished and they lost their smell, much like with the black hat Cliff had given her.

Sam took her seat on the couch with her drawing pad rested upon her lap. She was an artist in New York City, and yet she lived so far from the actual art scene. The boots still on her feet and yet she had no means as to how to look for it outside of her school work. Marla and Belinda had their way, for sure, but there had to be something more. There had to be, especially since she began to put her head down and put more work into her art for her classes. The struggle still came down on her, even as she gave her fish tails more scales and her humans more of a shading around their heads. It all seemed to slip away from the in between her fingers.

Everyone seemed to be doing better: her classmates received more praise, even Belinda who, at one point, admitted that graphites were a challenge for her as well. And yet, when Sam drew a self portrait surrounded by roses and water lilies, one of the comments Miss Estes left for her on the back side of the heavy grained paper was “lots of effort.”

She was eager for the flight out to the Bay Area by the time that early Friday morning rolled around, and she and Zelda were seated next to each other. She had packed that copy of Siddhartha with her but she had no idea as to when she would get to crack it open over the weekend.

Zelda had put on a plain white T shirt and fitted black jeans, and she had combed her short bob of black hair back for the flight. Apparently all she had packed with her were white shirts and black jeans.

“Don't you wanna look nice like at Cliff's memorial?” Sam asked her with a chuckle.

“I've got some suspenders and a tie to go with them,” Zelda replied. “It's a wedding for a friend of ours, and he said that we can wear whatever we like. So I told him that I'm gonna be full punk chick there. I'm guessing you'll be the artist?”

“Of course,” Sam replied, “the full black, baby.”

Zelda raised a hand to her for a high five and the light for the seat belts flickered on right then.

“I'll tell you this, Zelda,” Sam began.

“What's that?”

She peered over her shoulder to make sure Marla and Charlie paid no attention to them, given they were right across the aisle from them. Sam then gestured for Zelda to move in closer to her: beyond her and outside the window, she noticed the first few flurries of snow against the pane. She hoped they would take off soon.

“I'm getting kind of bored of New York,” she whispered to her.

“Really?” Zelda raised her eyebrows at her.

“Yeah. It's just—falling into the whole 'same old, same old' thing. I'm an artist, I should be able to go places with it all.”

“Absolutely, absolutely.”

“And I just—” Sam shook her head. “It's a great big city but I feel like there's nothing for me there anymore. Two years there and I'm not feeling it anymore. I'm glad we're going back out to the Bay Area for just this one weekend because I feel myself slowly going insane.”

“And why are you telling me this in a whisper?” Zelda asked her in a soft voice.

“Because—I don't know how to break it to Marla yet, or Belinda for that matter. Aurora kind of knows, but not in that sense, though. I made note of it to her but she didn't really suggest anything to me.”

“You can come to Providence,” Zelda suggested, “there's tons to do in Providence. Narragansett and Natick, too.”

“I guess what I'm trying to say is I feel trapped. Two years ago, I came here to the Northeast for a change of pace and it feels like it's trapped me sideways. There's no way out unless I really genuinely leave. The downside of course is—leaving you ladies behind and leaving Anthrax behind.”

“Yeah, and—we kinda like you, Sam. I do, especially. And I know Aurora does, too. And Marla.”

“Aurora is one of my best friends. Her and Frankie. They're my best friends. I don't know how I would handle leaving them both behind for a change of pace. I feel me and Marla drifting, if I'm honest. Can't really blame her, though—school's getting hard on her.”

“Well—whatever you do, Sam,” Zelda started again, “I'll support you on it. If nothing, you'll get the full support from me.”

“Thank you, Zelda. That—that means a lot to me.” Sam showed her a friendly smile.

Zelda shrugged. “I'm from Rhode Island,” she replied. “Moreover, I'm a punk rocker from Rhode Island. We look out for each other more so than these metal boys.”

They touched down in the Bay Area at five in the morning, and right as the sun began to rise right behind them. The thick fog surrounded the airport and Sam thought about the one and only Christmas she and Cliff spent together.

“Looks like San Francisco,” she muttered. “Feels like it, too.” She closed her eyes as they rolled up to the gate. She and Zelda stepped out of the airport first and she breathed in that marine air. She swore that New York was in fact her one true home, but there was just something about California that brought her more so into that feeling. That feeling that she needed to be there. All the fleeting thoughts led up to that moment there on the sidewalk.

Cliff's remains were not very far away from there, either.

She, Zelda, Marla, Aurora, and Belinda all stood at the curb as Charlie and Emile fetched their rental cars. All those men awaited them not too far from there, and Sam was eager to see Joey again given he flew in from Syracuse. That morning in which he and Belinda woke up before her and flirted with each other went through her mind every now and again. She never realized how much she wanted him until he put his arms around her and they locked eyes with each other. She needed to at the very least see him again: he also promised her a birthday gift.

Within time, Emile showed up with the little black car for himself and Aurora, while Charlie rolled up to the curb in a short dark green van. The four remaining girls piled inside away from the damp cold; Sam wanted to refer to him and Marla in the front seat as “Mom and Dad” again but she decided not to as she shivered under her jacket.

It wasn't New York, but Sam had forgotten how cold San Francisco could feel once the winter time set in.

“Okay, so we're going to a place called Marin Heights,” Charlie told them. “I think that's where the guys—Metallica—got the loft for us.”

“I've heard of it,” said Belinda from the middle seat.

“Me, too,” Sam added from the way back; Zelda huddled next to her and shook her head about. Sam had no idea as to why she didn't bring a jacket with her given it was winter in California. But instead, she peered out the small notch of a window to the Bay itself. She remembered that Testament were to film a music video out in Alcatraz, and those cold yellow lights from the island itself pierced through the foggy darkness. She wondered if they had finally wrapped up the recording of their first album since she wasn't able to sit in with them over the past couple of weeks because of school. She also wondered if she would receive any credit on it like with Stormtroopers of Death.

Charlie wound through the city until they reached the freeway, which in turn brought them up to Marin Heights, nestled back in the hills on the north side of town: they reached a switch back on the hillside so Sam was able to see the very top of the Golden Gate Bridge as it rose through the fog. The clouds themselves split apart so as to let the first rays of sunlight through and the metal of the bridge shone that bright amber color with the sunrise.

No wonder Cliff loved it there.

She sighed through her nose and turned her attention back to the road ahead of her as it turned away into the hills. Within time, they reached the top, and a small villa of little brick two story houses nestled back in the trees. She wondered if the wedding was going to be there as Charlie pulled up to the gravel driveway and stopped before the one closest to the street.

“I think this is us,” he informed them. “Or it might just be check in, I dunno.” He climbed out and then Sam and Zelda followed suit. The latter raised her lanky arms over her head and closed her eyes. Meanwhile, the former spotted a tall lanky boy with long black hair perched on a stone post on the other side of the driveway. He faced the other way but she knew those rich jet black curls anywhere.

“Joey?” she called out.

“Hm?” Zelda asked.

“Joey's over there.”

Zelda peeked around the rear end of the van and she nodded at her.

“Yeah, he is! Go get 'em!”

Sam then ducked around the end of the van and hurried over to him.

“Joey!” she called out. “Joey!”

He turned to face her with his eyebrows raised. He had lost a little weight so his waist was rather slim like Joey's, and the black hair dye held up, but she knew those deep eyes anywhere.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted him as she skidded to a stop before him.

“Hi,” Alex replied back to her with a thoughtful look on his face. “What's happening?”

“I thought you were Joey for a second.”

“You thought I was Joey?” he laughed at that.

“You have similar hair to each other.”

“His has more of a pile, though. Like right on top of his head. That big pile of ringlets atop his head.” He gestured to the crown of his head. “Even though I'm sitting down, I think he's a little bit shorter than me, too?”

“I think so?” Sam shifted her weight right there. Stray strands of his black hair lifted off of his shoulders in the wind and he ran his hand over the back of his head. He shivered from the feeling over his skin.

“God, it's cold out here,” he muttered as he adjusted his jacket.

“Yeah, it's pretty nippy. Not New York, but it's that California cold, though.”

“You know, both my parents are from New York,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Both obscenely smart Ivy League professors. They came out here before I was born to teach over at Berkeley.”

“Is that why you had the gray streak?” she asked him.

“Nah, I have no idea where that came from.” He shifted his weight yet again on that post. He seemed uncomfortable sitting there but Sam had no idea where to go right then. Charlie's voice behind her caught her ear and she peered over her shoulder at his talking to James.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” Alex told her as he shifted his weight a fourth time. “Aurora told the five of us last week that it was her assistant's birthday and she didn't know what to get you.”

“Aw, thank you—it was back on the twenty first, though.”

“Happy belated,” he corrected himself, and she swore he winked at her. Someone called his name and he looked off to the distance.

“Hang on—” he said, and he darted past her towards Charlie.

“Sam?” Zelda called out to her, and she jogged back to her. Aurora had climbed out of Emile's car right next to them and she shivered inside of her windbreaker.

“What's up?”

“Apparently the wedding is today,” Aurora announced.

“Today?” Sam was stunned.

“Yeah. Three o'clock. I guess Kirk's lady couldn't wait for it a second longer so they're doing it today.”

“So we get a full weekend of good ol' fun,” Zelda added as she clasped her hands to her upper arms.

“Exactly!”

Sam turned her attention to Alex, who was talking to Charlie about something. His black hair twirled in the cold winter winds. Even from a distance, he had such a grave expression on his face that it made Sam think he was much older than in reality.

Belinda had the right idea: he was very precocious. But now she had a little bit of insight into the boy in that he was raised by intelligent parents. It was a start with Alex and she could only wonder from that point onward.

Aurora and Emile led her, Zelda, and Belinda into the cabin behind Charlie and Alex, and once they stepped inside of the cozy foyer, Zelda was eager to turn on the heater.

“Terrible idea not to pack a coat,” she muttered as she hurried down the front foyer in search of the thermostat, “terrible idea not to pack a coat!”

Sam and Belinda meanwhile took to the narrow stairwell in front of them, and they made their way up to that second level: to the right stood a couple of rooms, while to the left was the bathroom and two more rooms. The door at the far end stood slightly ajar, such that when they reached the top, they spotted that head of black curls outside the doorway.

“Hey, Joey,” Belinda greeted him. That lopsided grin and those big brown eyes returned the favor, and Sam's heart skipped a couple of beats at the sight of him. He didn't appear to be ready for a wedding at all with his plain white shirt, extra tight blue jeans, and ragged white socks.

“There are my girls,” he said as he padded closer to them.

“Oh deary me, you're gonna be down the hall from us?” Sam teased him.

“Yup, me, Frankie, and Charlie and Marla. We're gonna be all here at the end of the hall if you need anything.”

“You know the wedding is today right?” Belinda told him.

“Oh, shit, is it really?” Joey raised his eyebrows at that.

“Yeah, Aurora just told us,” Sam added, and her heart sank at the thought of him barely being in the know of these things. “Three o'clock. So Bel and I are gonna get settled in and get dressed.”

“Oh, damn, thank you,” he told her, and his brown eyes sparkled at the sight of her. Cold as the earth and as engulfing as venom. He doubled back to his room and Sam pushed open the door in front of her. Inside stood a small bunk bed and a heavy wooden dresser underneath the window.

“Top or bottom?” she asked Belinda.

“You're older and got way more inside, so top,” she replied as she lay her purse down on the faded blue comforter upon the bottom bed. Even though they had plenty of time before the wedding, Sam wanted to clean up, and change her clothes and look her best. She hadn't been to a wedding in what felt like forever: there was one from when she was three years old, but she had no memory of it and she had no clue as to who even got eloped then, either.

Belinda offered to curl her hair and do it up extra nice, but she promised her there was very little to actually do up given her hair sat flat on her head. If only she could make curls into a crown like with Joey, but she had what she had in the form of a red wine colored dress and a thin black sweater over the top: the dress was a bit snug around her hips but she need not obsess over something as trivial as that when she remembered what Joey wanted to give her.

She was about to head on back inside of their room when she spotted him on the other side of the hallway with the five men from Death Angel, if she recalled correctly. Once again with the quintets and she would learn all of their names in the meantime. But he had a box wrapped in old faded red wrapping paper tucked under his arm and she hoped it wasn't just a wedding gift, especially since he still hadn't gotten dressed.

He laughed at something one of them said and he turned around.

“Oh, there you are!” he called out to her, and he scurried towards her. The tape on the edges of the box and the crooked look of the paper itself told her he wrapped it in a hurry, but she didn't mind at all once she slid her fingers under the edge of the paper closest to her. Careful not to tear it, she unwrapped it and lifted the lid. Inside was a pair of black leather gloves and a red and white knit scarf, the latter of which she ran her fingers over to find it softer than anything she had felt before. It was as soft as a cat.

“It's your own pair of gloves plus a scarf,” he declared. “I just think about how cold you always get upstate.” He shrugged at that.

“I love it, Joey! It's so soft.”

“It's cashmere.”

Sam gaped at him. “Cashmere,” she echoed him.

“Yeah—it was marked down, though. But it's cashmere. I wanted to give you something nice and good and good and nice.”

She slipped the gloves on and they fit around her fingers as if they were made for her. Joey offered to put the scarf around her neck; he stood before her, a country boy in a plain white shirt before a California girl in a dark red dress, and he wrapped the scarf around her.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered to her. “Happy birthday. Double deuces as of ten days ago!”

“Thank you—” She put her arms around him and she held him close. His slender little body was as soft as that scarf, and he smelled of fresh baked bread, something she would be willing to experience as long as he didn't have a drop of alcohol on hand.

Maybe there was in fact something more to life than being in that groove all the time. Maybe she could find a way to break out of her shell, and she could owe it all to him.

And she still hadn't told her parents about him.

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ljandersen · 4 years ago

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Hi! I was wondering if you’d be willing to share a little (or a lot! I’m not picky) about your process for writing Burning Barriers? Things you researched, things that gave you inspiration, any of it. I’m having a blast reading it and I’m so curious about what all went into writing it! (And it’s totally okay if you don’t want to! I just had to let you know how much I’m enjoying it!)

Wow! I’m incredibly flattered by this ask. I think it’s the first time I’ve gotten an ask about my writing that wasn’t part of a game. I was ecstatic to see it in my inbox. Thank you for taking the time and interest to send it. “Burning Barriers” is my favorite posted story. I love talking about it. I’m humbled when anyone actually wants to know something about it. Anyway, seriously, I appreciate getting this ask. It made my day!

On to the actual question though: The inspiration for writing the book had a lot to do with what lead into me writing fanfiction. “Burning Barriers” was the first piece of fanfiction I wrote and the first novel-length story I finished. In a lot of ways, it was a turning point in my writing. I’d written my whole life, but for the most part, I’d gradually given it up during grad school and internship rotations. It turns out, though, corporate healthcare can be quite dehumanizing and impersonal. My career wasn’t what I thought. I decided I needed to return to what I loved doing, which was writing.

Initially, I decided it was time to write that masterpiece of literary fiction I’d always planned on writing. I made detailed outlines and character sheets. I had each beat perfectly aligned for a four-act story structure. I had the character arcs. Subplots were variations on the theme and parallel to the main story, just like the writing books recommended. Everything was set to finally write The Masterpiece. And . . .

I stalled out.

I was too overwhelmed to write this overblown piece of art. I knew I couldn’t live up to my own expectations. I’d decided to return to writing, but nothing as happening.

I loved writing, but I also always loved video games. I’d played all the Dragon Age games as each came out. I had no idea Mass Effect existed. In 2018, my sister came across it. After playing the ME trilogy, she recommended it to me. I loved it. With the three games tying together and having the same protagonist, who spoke and had a name, I became enthralled. Then came the ending with Shepard dying on the Crucible.

The credits rolled. Moon boy had just asked about “The Shepard,” and this was it. Was Shepard alive or dead? What about her love interest, in this case, Kaidan? What about their story? What about Shepard’s story as a person? It just ended. Cut off.

While I appreciate the bittersweet nature of the ending, I didn’t have any closure. I kept thinking, “How would I have ended it?” There were a few elements in particular that I thought would be interesting to explore more: fraternization and biotics. It’s always interested me when a super hero loses her power. What if Shepard couldn’t use her biotics? As for fraternization, I understood it being dismissed in ME-3, but what about after? They want to be together but rules are falling back into place. It’s always interesting when two people are forbidden to be together by external forces. There were so many interesting way to play out these different ideas.

I kept thinking about this hypothetical ending for my game. Finally, I decided I should just write it. It was going to be a short story for myself. I just needed it out of my system. Maybe it would be a good warm up to finally writing The Masterpiece. I started writing my ending for ME.

I had a very vague plot in mind. As I started writing, the plot became more than just a vehicle for finding closure with Shepard and Kaidan’s love story. I had only planned on writing Shepard’s POV, but as I drew closer to a section in the story that I knew Shepard couldn’t tell, I realized I needed someone else to take over the story. Skipping forward in time as I initially planned wouldn’t be satisfying. I decided to make the story three parts, and Kaidan would tell part two. I would return back to Shepard’s POV for the last part.

I was nervous switching POV and thought a lot about how Shepard and Kaidan would tell their story differently. Shepard is fast, goal-oriented, no-nonsense, and avoids uncomfortable, emotional rumination. Kaidan, however, is more self-aware and honest with his feelings. He’s reflective, cautious, and has a deeper internal life. The idea of contrasting the POV while keeping a consistent narrative voice was a interesting challenge. In the end, switching POV didn’t turn out to be as difficult as I thought, and I really enjoyed writing a part of the story from Kaidan’s eyes.

As I approached part three, where Kaidan’s POV would end, I realized dropping his side would feel disappointing in a way. The story had become as much Kaidan’s story as it was Shepard’s. They needed to tell the ending together. The decision to alternate POV in part three even gave the story cohesion: 1. Shepard 2. Kaidan 3. Shepard and Kaidan. It felt right. I was surprised I hadn’t thought of that from the beginning.

The story was starting to become big. Somewhere into writing part 1, I realized this was a more serious endeavor than a throw-away short story. So I got serious. I knew my ending for the story, and I decided to dissect apart what would make the ending truly satisfying. What were the barriers to it feeling the best it could feel?

Once I identified those elements, it influenced the story quite a bit. I had to include new pieces to the story, like Kaidan’s family, and I had to emphasize character arcs in some of the secondary characters. I also realized the thing keeping Shepard and Kaidan apart had to be more than fraternization regs. I had to be something internal in addition to external to feel believable.

As I wrote, there was one big development I hadn’t planned but that felt organic. It worked for the character arc I was creating, and I let it play out. While there was one big surprise, a lot of the story’s details sprang up and were little surprises while I was writing. I knew the points I wanted to connect, but I discovered the details as I wrote it. It was like I had this skeleton, but the discovery process as I wrote gave it the flesh and beauty of being something worthwhile.

The story’s ending was everything I hoped, which was a huge feat for me. I took a long time reflecting on how all the elements could come together at once in a way that felt right. I needed to incorporate a lot of external elements into one moment: the Mass Effect shard, the Scorpion terrorist leader, an object they’re looking for in part 3, and all the secondary characters (Council, Alliance, Shepard’s companions). I needed it to bring Shepard and Kaidan’s internal conflict keeping them apart to a moment of clarity, which would be easy if it was just about realizing they loved each other. They already knew that. Shepard needed to confront her fears and realize her false reasoning wasn’t just wrong, but that actually the opposite was real truth. It was a lot to achieve in one ending, but as far as I’m concerned, I felt like I was successful in bringing everything together into one moment. I was able to resolve many questions, external and internal, with one answer.

Honestly, I have compared Burning Barrier’s ending to my current big WIP and felt like I can’t live up to my own benchmark of satisfaction in an ending. Granted, all of that’s really talking up my own ending, and readers may or may not feel like the ending brought everything together in a satisfying way. But for me, I was pleased with the ending to a story I was telling myself. Since I had never finished a novel-sized story, it was huge moment.

I wrote "Burning Barriers” in notebooks over the course of four months. I had no idea of the word count when I finished. It all come together so naturally and simply, I actually thought my story would fall short of being novel-sized. All three parts together I expected to fall into the novella range. I was wrong. I started typing it up and watched the word count climb. This story that felt so simple and quick to me turned out not only to be novel-sized, but each part was novel-sized. I was thunderstruck. I realized: not only had I finished my first novel, I finished three of them! It was huge for me.

Writing fanfiction and not trying to live up to this inflated, self-imposed ideal of creating “Art” had finally set me free. I could finally write and finish a novel. I even did it with a method I never expected to work for me. Being an organized and kind of methodical person, I always assumed outlining was the best way for me. It was the responsible, better approach. It turns out, knowing my direction but finding my way as I go was what worked best. It gave me joy in discovering, and knowing I could edit it later, freed me from every word being perfection in the first draft.

“Burning Barriers” had three major drafts. After writing the story in notebooks, I knew what I needed to emphasize and cut away as I typed it into a second draft. I could foreshadow and set up the ending. I could fill in missing scenes. It was a major overhaul. I then read through the whole story a third time focusing more on the writing-level, sentences and wording choice. Then it was done.

Now I needed to do something with it. After a certain point of writing this story, maybe halfway, I realized I was putting enough effort into it, I actually wanted someone to read it. My sister, who had recommended Mass Effect to me, was also a writer. As I wrote and finished editing my story, I had her in mind as the one person who would read my story. Unfortunately, fanfiction is stigmatized and on a much lower level than if I wrote The Masterpiece. After I was finished with this story, by sister felt embarrassed for me writing fanfiction. The idea of reading fanfiction was demeaning for a serious writer and it wasn’t her thing. It’s fair to feel that way, I suppose, but I was disappointed.

My other sister who isn’t a gamer but was aware of fanfiction as a thing suggested I post online. The game had been out for so long, I doubted Mass Effect fans were still reading fanfic, but I decided to try. I had written 300 K words that no one would ever read but me if I let it lay forgotten on the hard drive.

I went ahead and posted it on FFN. I made each part it’s own book, and I posted all three books and all the chapters all at once. Then I sat back and waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing. It was deflating. I had a few favorites or follows scattered here and there, but it felt pretty silent. I could see stats that some people probably had read the whole way through, but that was it for spending months writing this 300 K fic. I actually felt worse than before I’d posted it online, because this felt more like a rejection. My fear, my story actually being awful, could actually be true.

At the time, I didn’t know anything about fanfiction culture. I didn’t know people posted before they finished a story or that it was common practice to post chapter by chapter to gain readership. I had no idea my posting method could be playing a role in why the stories were lost to the void.

My sister who had suggested posting online recommended looking for Facebook groups to information on other places to post. I joined some FB groups and asked for recommendations where else to post. I heard about AO3. Now, I still didn’t know about this whole posting chapter-by-chapter thing, so I posted my story on AO3 the same way as before. Unlike FFN, I decided this time to keep all the parts together, since so much of the story relied on in-jokes and references from earlier parts. Plus, the story and plot arc were made to connect over the whole story. Other than that, I posted “Burning Barriers” as one giant chunk of 124 chapters, like I had on FFN, and sat back again. This time there was one difference: someone commented.

I got a comment from someone who read the first chapter, liked it, and said she would put it on her reading list. That one comment changed my whole experience. I replied to the comment, and I through a back and forth via email met my now very good friend @ripley95things . She introduced me to another wonderful friend @rpgwarrior4824 . Their comments on “Burning Barriers” made all the difference. I went from feeling kind of devastated and being embarrassed about my story to being glad I wrote it. It was a complete 180 just by having two people who cared. It made all the difference.

They welcomed me into the fandom. I learned so much about the fanfic culture and started reading other Shenko fanfics. I haven’t stopped since. With all the encouragement I got from talking with them, I decided to write more Shenko fanfiction myself even. I hadn’t planned to write anything more than “Burning Barriers,” but suddenly I had a new plot-heavy story I was writing (am still writing *sigh*). I wrote a one-shot and some lighter, shorter multichapter fics. I eventually joined Tumblr. But it all started with “Burning Barriers.”

That’s a lot of extra information on “Burning Barriers” than just my inspiration and approach to writing, but haha, I guess, I got on a roll. The story has a lot of meaning to me, and the history surround it feels integrated into its DNA. If you read this far, I really appreciate you reading not only a very long book with “Burning Barriers,” but also a very long monologue about the very long book. Haha. Thank you!

Anyway, I’ll end here. Thank you for your wonderful question. It was fun to reflect back on this story that has so much meaning to me. I appreciate your interest in “Burning Barriers.” It means more than I can say that you read my story, and even more, to know you’re interested enough to ask a question about it (thought you probably didn’t expect how much you’d get! Lol! :D) Thanks again!

#my writing #mass effect fanfiction #writing ask #Burning Barriers #Thank you so much for the ask!

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Suicide Squad: How Idris Elba Brings Bloodsport to Life

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Idris Elba has a certain unmistakeable, charismatic vibe about him. The resulting magnetism extends to the wide range of characters he has brought to life over the years – from playing the second-in-command to a drug kingpin in The Wire to playing a guy who has to deal with the likes like Michael Scott in The Office, to playing a dedicated horseman committed to fighting off gentrifying developers in his neighborhood in the recently released Concrete Cowboy. Whether it’s as a leading man or part of a larger ensemble, Elba’s performances always stand out because of what he brings to each role.

Later this summer, Elba will make his DC Extended Universe debut in James Gunn’s The Suicide Squad – a comic book adaption full of talent who could carry their own features if given the opportunity. We recently spoke with him about his role as the lesser-known comic character Bloodsport and what it was like to be part of such a chaotic batch of DC villains and antiheroes.

How were you first approached for the role for Bloodsport, and what made you say yes?

James Gunn reached out to me and said he had this project that he wanted to work on and didn’t tell me what it was. We had a meeting pretty late at night [and] what was appealing to me was that it wasn’t a continuation of the last film, and this is a new character. I just wanted to see where James wanted to go with this new film and this new character. So that was really what drew me in.

Bloodsport isn’t a very famous character. So what did you learn about him and what freedom were you given to bring him to life?

Like you say, he’s not very well known so I sort of traced his history back in the DC world. He’s popped up in some places. He’s more of the vigilante soldier type. He’s not going to have special powers, he’s just a really good assassin, basically. That was pretty consistent throughout his history. There was a little bit of leniency between myself and James collaboratively just working it out … what we want to bring to life. I felt very involved in that process, so essentially I got to bring him to life the way we wanted to.

You’re no stranger to superhero movies. You’re an MCU alum and I consider Hobbs & Shaw a superhero movie because you played Brixton Lore, the fantastic “Black Superman” in it. Did you bring any of those experiences to Bloodsport?

Playing any action character requires a level of real dedication just to the amount of work you have to do. So although I’ve been in the Marvel universe, Heimdall isn’t so much of an action character, despite moments where he’s had action. But Brixton in Hobbs & Shaw was 100% full on. Going from that into The Suicide Squad was a great transition because I basically brought some of the things I learned from the experiences I had on Hobbs & Shaw. It’s not the same character, but the level of effort is the same.

This ensemble cast is one of the wildest we’ve seen in a superhero movie. What was it like to work with everyone?

That was a lot of fun. It’s challenging keeping your character in one lane while you’ve got these really larger-than-life characters around you, especially Peacemaker who is a natural rival [to Bloodsport]. It’s kind of hard to sort of stay in your character with John Cena, who is incredible with improvisations. And then everyone else has this quick-fire banter, but Bloodsport, he doesn’t even like to talk. It’s like, you don’t want to be too friendly with these people. But I think that’s what’s beautiful about his arc. When you see the movie, he goes on a journey.

The dynamic with the actors is incredible. Really good, nice, hard-working people. James was so specific around timing and comedy and how you say lines and stuff. It was great to be a part of that. It’s almost like he’s a comic strip artist and he had these characters to play with and built these amazing frames. I love working with directors that have a complete vision, but allow you a little bit of latitude to bring it to life.

What was it like wearing that intricate Bloodsport costume?

The suit was very tricky to wear. Each component of his costume does something else, so it’s quite a tricky costume to design. I remember speaking to James about the many machinations of designs that he had gone through with this costume. When I came on board, it had to fit to who I am and how Bloodsport moves. It’s intricate but it looks incredible and badass when you see it in the film, but it was a real journey getting there.

What are his weapons like?

Just imagine a weapon that can transform from one thing into another and keep going. He’s got a pretty cool array of weapons.

In the trailer we see Bloodsport in vacation wear, a nice pair of grilling sandals and linen pants. Do you believe that Bloodsport is good on the grill and who would he play Spades or Dominos with and why?

With a name like Bloodsport he’s definitely going to grill. I don’t think he’s the guy that’s seasoning, but I think he’s behind the barbecue with the fire, making sure that meat and blood are cooking. As far as playing games with anyone, he doesn’t do that, he’s solitary, he doesn’t like company, and likes to be alone. He’s very guarded. He just wouldn’t find it interesting to play cards against anyone. He might play chess, maybe, but I don’t think he’s playing Spades at the barbecue.

Earlier this year, there was an announcement about you and your wife, Sabrina, teaming up with your respective production companies to develop an Afro-futuristic animated series. Can you speak to some of the motivation for wanting to put a story like Dantai out into the world?

I can tell you that it’s mainly the brainchild of Sabrina. Her deep passion and history with anime introduced me to it. From my perspective, I just love telling stories, but also this is a medium that’s kind of new and interesting to me, and it feels underserved in many, many ways. Sabrina is a super, super geek when it comes to anime [laughs], so, you know, I’m there. But I’m so engaged from what I’ve learned so far, Crunchyroll is incredible. We want to make something really exciting, hopefully that will maybe even bring more people to the genre.

You don’t know how happy it just made me to hear that your wife is a huge anime fan. I’m a huge anime fan, so finding other Black women who love that art form always makes me happy. So thank you for sharing that.

Yeah. You guys could definitely travel down some wormholes and discuss because she can go deep.

Would you all ever consider developing a superhero story or comic book adaptation?

We haven’t considered it. It would certainly be sort of a natural course of action in terms of how this came about. We would certainly consider that, but right now it’s one step at a time to try and get [Dantai] right and see how we go. But for me, if you know anything about me or my ambitions are out there, so (laughing) I’ll end up doing something in that space for sure.

Retcons and remakes and comics all go hand in hand. Are there any other comic characters you’d love a chance to bring to life, even though you’ve already been in the DC and the Marvel universe?

Well, we all need to see Black Superman but someone else is putting that in the works. But you know, that’s practically my nickname right now. (laughing) I’m being honest. I’m not the best dictionary of comic books [so] I honestly couldn’t speak with authority.

There is a character named Icon from Milestone comics, and although folks don’t like when you refer to him as the Black Superman, he is kind of like that analog. So I mean, there is still a chance for that to happen.

Oh, really?

Yes.

Wow. Okay. Thank you for that tidbit. What did you say was the name of the company it comes from?

He comes from Milestone Comics. They were a Black imprint. Dwayne McDuffie was part of this startup, but they were an imprint of DC Comics. Static Shock, Icon, Rocket and some other really prominent Black superheroes came from them. I’m sorry. I’m a comic nerd.

No, I did not know that. Who has it now?

DC does. Unfortunately, Dwayne McDuffie passed away. But DC is bringing it back. There are some actual comics that are in the works right now. Static Shock is one of them. I know that. I believe Michael B. Jordan is producing the movie. So they’re around. Yeah. So I’m just putting that bug in your ear.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Thank you very much. That’s great. I’m looking it up as we speak.

The Suicide Squad opens on Aug. 6 in theaters and HBO Max.

Check out more on The Suicide Squad in the latest issue of Den of Geek!

The post The Suicide Squad: How Idris Elba Brings Bloodsport to Life appeared first on Den of Geek.

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wistfulcynic · 5 years ago

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Their Way By Moonlight: Endings And Beginnings (chapter 18 plus epilogue)

SUMMARY: A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time Emma is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from Henry and anyone else who might help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Killian have the ability to share their dreams, and are working together in secret to find a way to break the curse and free everyone from a new and dangerous foe.

Rating: M

AO3

*draws deep breath*

*slowly exhales it*

Okay. Okay. Wow. I can’t quite believe this is it. I’ve been writing this story for more than a year, and now it’s done. That is... well, it’s something.

I have to take a moment to thank some people, people who helped me through when it felt like no one was reading this thing that was carving pieces out of my heart with each chapter, people whose support is the only reason the thing is finished, and that I’m even still writing. I was so, so close to giving it up but they wouldn’t let me and I am deeply grateful.

Krystal, who inspired the thing in the first place and whose enthusiasm is a true joy to behold. Ro, whose wisdom and compassion are so vast and who was the shoulder I needed exactly when I needed it. Katie, who sees everything and understands it all, even the things I don’t say. Lisa with her amazing comments, Masha with her brilliant art, Alma with her generous soul. Devra, so insightful and thoughtful with her incisive analysis and appreciation of so many of the things I love. And Stephanie, my other half, I can’t believe I had to live forty whole years without you but this last one with you has made up for all of them.

Thank you all. So, so much.

a/n: this chapter is actually two chapters because it just got SO LONG, but I’m posting them together - or at least within a few hours of each other.

Endings:

The sea was calm, that peculiarly soft and eerie calm exclusive to the hour just before the day breaks, when the air is cool and the light is grey and mist shimmers over gently undulating waves, and even the birds know it would be a sin to break the silence. Across that calm sea a boat glided, smooth and true and though no wind filled its sails, quite remarkably fast. It was a small boat, made of wood with a mast, two sails, and an oar, just enough to suit one man in decent comfort for a journey far longer than most would wish to undertake in such a vessel, but Oisín—for naturally the man was he—was quite extraordinary in his way and crossing a wide ocean in a tiny boat posed no challenge for him.

He was nearing the end of his journey now; the thick mist and low light obscured his vision but not the pull in his blood that grew stronger as his homeland drew nearer. It is a pull we all feel after long days or weeks or years, decades even, spent away, but for a man who counts centuries as beads on an endless chain the call is stronger still.

He dipped his oar into the water, skilfully steering the boat through the treacherous shoals that shielded his island from unwelcome travellers and into a cove perceptible only to those who already know it’s there. The boat slid onto the shore with the rough whisper of wood over sand and Oisín’s soul sighed in peace. He was home.

He stepped from the boat and tugged it up more firmly onto the shore, looped its rope around a slender column of stone sticking up from the sand and when he turned around again she was there. The mist embraced her and the sun even now rising over the horizon cast a gentle light upon her face. A face as young and ancient as his own, smoothed by magic and profound with the weight of ages. He drank in the sight.

“Niamh,” he said.

“Is it done?” she demanded, in a voice drawn as from the strings of a harp, melodious and resonant.

“It is done.”

“Our debt is repaid?”

Oisín nodded. “He will still have challenges to face, some magical, some of the more mortal variety. But never again will he face them alone. I can see the threads of his life, of their lives, woven together to the end.”

“Not too soon an end?”

“Fewer years remain by far than what he has already lived, but that remainder is still generous for a mortal man. And they will be happy years, on the whole. For her as well. For all of them.” He stepped closer and stroked her silken cheek. “Worry no more, my love. He is free now of the demons that so long tormented him, and he will be happy.”

She sighed, and smiled, and leaned her head against his hand. “Then I am happy too.”

Oisín smiled indulgently, an answering platitude ready upon his lips, then blinked in surprise when he realised that what he planned to say was true. “As am I,” he said softly. “Very happy indeed. Now let us go home.”

When Regina and Robin materialised in the sheriff’s station they found the others still there and awaiting their return. Killian was sitting on the edge of one of the desks with Emma nestled between his legs, his arms around her waist and his cheek on her hair. Henry and Neal were leaning side by side against the wall of Emma’s office, talking animatedly, and Zelena lay unmoving on the cot in her cell, staring blankly at the wall. Despite herself, Regina felt her heart twist at the thought of her sister’s bitter loss.

“Hey, Regina,” Emma greeted her. “How’d it go?”

“Exactly as I hoped. The magic is back in the Enchanted Forest and dispersed enough to be harmless. I put a temporary seal over the portal. It’s done. The curse is broken and its magic is completely gone.”

Henry ran over and threw his arms around her. “Great work, Mom. Both moms,” he said, grinning at Emma. Regina hugged him back, tightly, but a hard knot of apprehension still sat like a stone in her chest. The curse was over but that didn’t mean her troubles were.

“We should get to Granny’s,” said Emma, pulling out of Killian’s arms and going to stand behind Henry. “My parents are there and probably most of the rest of the town. We need to let them know what happened.”

“Yes. Of course. Um. You go. I’d like—actually, I’d like talk to you for a minute, Killian. If I could?”

His eyebrows rose in surprise, but he nodded. “Aye, if you wish. Emma, why don’t you take yourself and and the others straight to Granny’s and Regina and I will follow on foot. We’ll meet with you there in a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

“Should I not come with you?” asked Robin, giving Killian a dubious look, clearly wondering if he could be trusted to keep Regina safe from whatever he imagined might threaten her. Regina’s tense expression softened.

“You can, though I really need to talk to Killian privately.”

“I’ll keep my distance,” Robin promised, narrowing his eyes at Killian. “But I’ll be there.”

Killian gave him a single brisk nod. Though it was very clearly not reciprocated he felt an odd kinship with Robin. After all, if anyone knew what it was to love a headstrong woman who took no care for her own safety it was he. Robin’s protectiveness may be unnecessary in this case but Killian understood all too well what drove it. “I’ve no objection,” he said.

“Okay.” Emma gave Killian’s hand a squeeze. “We’ll see you in a bit then.”

“Aye, love. See you soon.”

The noise in the diner was deafening and the scene chaotic as people shouted greetings from across the room and elbowed each other aside to get to friends and loved ones, exchanging hugs and handshakes and recounting their lives under this most recent curse at the very tops of their lungs. Snow caught sight of Red behind the counter and ran to greet her while Charming shook hands with the Merry Men and assured them that while no, he couldn’t say where Robin Hood was at that precise moment he was sure to be fine and show up soon.

Gradually the hubbub began to die down and Grumpy once again raised his voice.

“So you gonna tell us what happened with the curse?” he demanded. “Who is Zelena and why did she cast it?”

“Zelena is the Wicked Witch of the West, like we said before,” Charming replied.

“Really though? Like with the flying monkeys and the big crystal ball?” said Grumpy.

“Yes. We don’t know how she cast the curse or why, but Emma does and she’ll be here soon. Until then, can we just… just….” He trailed off as a peculiar noise filled the air, a low-pitched hum like a distant swarm of insects, accompanied by a prickling sensation against his skin. Voices began to rise again, in consternation this time.

“What is that?” growled Grumpy.

“I don’t know.” Charming’s eyes sought Snow’s and she came to stand next to him, slipping her hand into his.

“Feels like magic,” remarked Will Scarlet. “Magic sort of—loose in the air.”

“It does kind of feel like that,” Snow agreed. “I’ve felt it before, when Regina does a spell.”

The worried muttering increased, and Charming realised he was losing command of the situation.

“Look, nobody panic—” he began, just as the door opened and Belle burst through it.

“I don’t want to make anyone panic,” she said. “But there’s some sort of—something going on outside.”

There was a moment of silence, then a rush of noise as everyone ran to the windows.

“What the fuck?” snarled Grumpy. “Your Highnesses, you’d better come see this.”

This was like nothing any of them had seen before, or rather nothing they had even not seen before. A sort of sideways tornado, a swirl of distortion in the air, invisible, perceptible only in the way it bent and refracted the light around it. It twisted and twined its way through the sky over the town, heading towards the forest. They all stood together and watched it go, every breath bated and each heartbeat quickened as they waited anxiously for something they had no idea how to articulate, and then, abruptly, it was gone.

“Well,” said Charming heartily, attempting once again to regain control of the situation. “I guess that’s—well, that.”

“Sure, yeah,” said Will. “Of course. But also what the bloody hell was that?”

“I’m sure Emma can—”

“Yes, yes, Emma can explain, so you keep saying. But where is this Emma?”

“She’ll be here soon,” Charming insisted. “I promise. Until then, everyone please just stay calm.”

The muttering began again as the crowd milled anxiously around and Charming was just reflecting on how much easier it was to lead a war council than a mob of disgruntled citizenry when white smoke swirled in the middle of the diner and Emma appeared, Neal and Henry at her side.

Immediately the crowd erupted with a roar of noise, shouting questions and demanding answers. Emma ignored them, hurrying over to her parents with Henry close behind.

“Grandma!” he cried, “Grandpa! I missed you guys!”

Snow and Charming folded Henry into a double-hug, and Charming caught Emma’s eye over the top of his head.

“You guys okay?” she asked.

“We’re fine. Everyone else though...” He nodded to the crowd behind her. “Well, you remember that reassurance you were going to give everyone? Now’s the time.”

“Right.” Emma turned to face the crowd. “Everyone!” she shouted. “Hey! Can you all please shut up for a minute!”

The noise quieted as inquiring faces turned towards her. “Good,” she said. “Okay. Now I’m sure you all have a lot of questio—”

“Is it true that Zelena is the Wicked Witch of the West?” shouted Grumpy.

“Yeah and why’d she curse us?” Sneezy piped up.

“Oh and why—”

“How do we—”

“When can I—”

“ENOUGH!” Charming’s voice boomed through the diner. “Let her speak!”

Grumpy opened his mouth again then closed it with an audible click of his teeth as Emma and Charming shot him identical glares. “Yes,” said Emma, “it’s true that Zelena is the Wicked Witch of the West. She cast the curse to get revenge on her sister. Regina.”

Shocked silence fell, broken just before it grew uncomfortable by Granny’s mutter. “The Evil Queen and the Wicked Witch are sisters? That’s a Thanksgiving dinner I would not want to be at.” Several people nodded their agreement, and then Grumpy piped up again.

“So if Zelena cast the curse to get back at Regina, then the curse is actually kind of Regina’s fault even though she didn’t technically cast it,” he said. “Right?”

“No,” said Emma.

“But if it weren’t for her Zelena may never have—”

“Okay maybe a little,” Emma interrupted, holding tight to her patience. “But the point is Regina didn’t cast the curse, and also she actually contributed a lot to breaking it.”

“But—”

“No going after Regina, Leroy,” said Emma firmly. “She’s on our side now and I for one would like to keep her there. She’s a lot more useful as an ally than an enemy.”

“Fine,” grumbled Grumpy, and Emma extended her stern glare to the rest of the crowd. “Everyone got that?” she said, raising her voice so they all could hear. “No mobs. This curse was not Regina’s doing and Zelena is being dealt with. Just—let me handle it, okay?”

No one replied.

“Okay?” Emma repeated, louder still, and the crowd grumbled reluctant agreement.

“Okay. Now, I know you must still have a lot of questions and so I’d like to propose that we all take a few days to calm down and think about what we want to do now that this curse is broken. I’m guessing a lot of you are going to want to change jobs, maybe find a new place to live. Think about it, and in a day or two we’ll have a town meeting to talk things out. Is that okay?” She turned inquiringly to Snow.

“Um.” Snow looked startled. “You’re asking me?”

“Well, you are still the acting mayor,” Emma pointed out.

“Huh. I guess I am.” She nodded. “That sounds like a good plan to me. All agreed?”

There was a chorus of “ayes” and “yeses” and “I guess sos” and Emma smiled. “Good. Everyone go back home now, and if you see Regina remember no mobs.” She turned back to her parents with a relieved smile. “Ugh, I’m glad that’s done. I don’t know about you guys but I am dying for some onion rings and mint ice cream. Ooh, and maybe some pickles.”

Regina took her time walking to Granny’s. Killian let her set the pace, clearly content to allow her what time she needed to collect her thoughts. They walked side by side with Robin trailing several feet behind, and Regina took advantage of the chance to look around. The streets were empty, and exactly the same as they had been before. The OG SB, as she imagined Henry would say. Curse 1.0. Her curse.

She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably, trying to ease the tension in them.

“So,” she said.

“So,” Killian echoed.

“So, ah, things might get a little unpleasant. At Granny’s. After the last curse broke, the townspeople were out for blood.”

“Your blood, I presume?”

“Yes.”

She could feel his eyes on her, observing with curiosity but no censure. “And you’re worried they will be again?”

She nodded. “I’m sure Emma will tell them I wasn’t the one who cast it this time, but—well, there are going to be a lot of angry people. And confused ones.”

“And anger and confusion are a bad combination,” Killian concluded. “Aye. That’s a recipe for mutiny.” She glanced at him and saw his mouth twist with an expression she couldn’t read. She wondered what he could be thinking of.

They walked another block before he spoke again.

“There are likely to be people out for my blood as well,” he said. “There generally are. And Emma’s parents… well…”

“Yeah.”

“Dave will be wanting my head, no doubt. And likely other parts of my anatomy as well.” He raised a wry eyebrow and her mouth curved in an answering smile. “Emma will fight for me, but I doubt that will do much to appease their shock.”

Regina nodded, her throat too tight to speak. Emma will fight for me, he said, with a casual assurance that floored her. She couldn’t imagine what that must feel like, to have such complete faith in someone’s love for you.

“Regina.” She looked up to find him watching her with an odd expression, understanding and almost kind. “You know that Emma will stand up for you as well,” he said. “As will I. For whatever that’s worth.”

She smiled. “It’s worth a lot.”

They walked in silence for a few moments more. “I sense that wasn’t all you wished to speak to me about,” Killian remarked.

“No.”

He turned to her with an encouraging look. “Well?”

“Do you—do you think they’ll ever really accept you? Snow and Charming, I mean. Do you think they’ll ever truly see you as part of their family?”

“I don’t know. I hope they will. But perhaps the most important thing I have learned about this whole redemption business is that you can’t change the past or control other people’s reaction to it. Perhaps they never will accept me, and I can’t force them to. All I can do is apologise for the wrongs I’ve done and make what amends I can, and try to live better in the future than I have in the past.”

“And what if you lost Emma? You’d still try to do that? You wouldn’t—er—”

“Fall back into darkness again?” Killian’s jaw was tight, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side. “No. I wouldn’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Emma wouldn’t want me to, and even if she were gone I couldn’t bear to disappoint her. But it’s more than just that. I hated who I became, after my brother died and then Milah… I loathed myself for all the things I was doing but that only drove me to do more, worse things. I didn’t know how to make myself stop. ‘This is who you are now,’ I remember thinking. ‘This is the only way for you to be.’ And that, as I’m quite certain you understand, my Queen, is a terrible way to feel. It’s a terrible way to live.”

Regina swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“I didn’t want to feel that way anymore. I didn’t want to live that life. Emma merely gave me an opportunity to walk a different path, showed me the way back to the man I had been long ago, a man I almost lost to vengeance. But I would still have wanted to be that man, for my own sake, even if Emma never came to love me.”

He turned to her with an earnest expression, one she could imagine a young naval lieutenant may once have worn. “You have to want it for yourself, Regina, not for anyone else. If you’re trying to change for another person you’ll always resent it, and them. Do it for yourself alone. Do it because it’s the right thing to do, and because you deserve to be able to look at yourself in the mirror without shame. I’d like to think we all deserve that. Or at least a chance at achieving it.”

"Thank you,” she said. “I’ll think about that.” He’d given her a lot to think about. But Granny’s sign was looming less than a block away, and she still needed one thing more of him.

“Can I ask you a favour?”

“Of course.”

“This curse of Zelena’s... I still can’t quite figure it out. It was weird in a way I’ve never even heard of before, almost like it was, I don’t know, sentient almost. Like it could act for itself.”

“Hmmm. What makes you think that?”

Regina frowned, trying to recall the exact words that had triggered her bizarre theory. “Zelena told me once she had spies and alarms everywhere, and she certainly always seemed to know what was going on but I never saw anyone actually working for her. Or anything. I don’t think any of her, er, flying monkeys were even here.”

“So you think she meant the curse itself was her spy.”

“Yes. Does that sound crazy?”

“Not at all. This curse certainly had some peculiar qualities. There was that wind, for example, the way it seemed to follow us around.”

“Yes! And the way I always felt I was being watched.”

“I suppose there’s no chance of getting Zelena to tell us, now she’s defeated.”

“Probably not, though I plan to do my best to get it out of her. But who knows how long that might take, so in the meantime do you think you could write down everything you remember about it?”

“Aye, of course I can. I’ll make a log of my observations, and Henry’s as well. His input will be more useful than mine since he knew the old Storybrooke far better than I did.”

“That would be perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They reached the gate of the diner and paused for a moment beneath the arch to allow Robin to catch up with them. When he did, all three exchanged a glance, and Robin took Regina’s hand.

“Well,” said Regina. “Here goes nothing.”

Emma sat herself on a stool at the counter and placed her order with Granny, whose eyebrows rose almost to her hairline as she wrote it down.

“I’ll get that for you right away,” she said with a probing look that Emma entirely failed to notice. She tapped her fingers absently on the formica countertop, smiling as she watched Henry greet all the people still in the diner and tell them eagerly all about how he had helped break the curse.

“So,” beamed Snow, taking Emma’s hand and letting her thumb trail significantly across the ring on it. “Congratulations, you two.” She turned her head so her smile encompassed Neal as well. “I’m so glad you found each other again and can be a family.”

“Ah,” said Emma, glancing at Neal. He gave her a shrug, and a smirk. “Um, actually—”

“But when did it happen?” Snow was frowning now. “My memories of the curse are really foggy, but weren’t you both here the whole time? When did you have a chance to get married?”

“Mom, it’s not actually—”

“Who got married?” asked David, coming over to join them. “Emma?”

“Yeah, actually I married—”

A broad grin broke across David’s face and he took Neal’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Should I give you my protective father speech now, or is it too late for that?”

Considering our kid is nearly fourteen and was born when I was hardly older than he is now, I’d say yeah it’s a bit too late, Emma thought irritably. “Dad—”

“We’ll have to have a celebration, of course,” said David, and Snow nodded eagerly. Emma felt the situation spinning rapidly out of her control and Neal, true to form, was being no help at all.

“GUYS,” she shouted, drawing reproachful looks from Bashful and Doc, who were at the other end of the counter. “Please would you just listen.”

Snow and David's jaws dropped in unison, and Emma seized her advantage. “I’m not married to Neal,” she told them firmly.

“But the ring—” Snow began.

“You’re still not listening, Mom! I’m not married to Neal.”

Comprehension began to dawn on her parents’ faces. “But… who then…” stuttered Snow.

Neal’s smirk deepened, and Emma took a deep breath just as the bell on the door chimed and Killian appeared, trailed by Regina and Robin. His eyes found hers immediately and she sent him a pleading look.

“Killian,” she informed them, reaching out her hand to grasp his hook as he approached. “I’m married to Killian.”

“What?” Snow cried.

“Who?” asked David.

Neal chuckled. “Hook,” he said.

“Hook—” David frowned in confusion.

“Aye, mate.” Killian came to stand behind Emma, his feet braced firmly on the floor and his jaw set.

“Wait, wait…” David shook his head. “You’re married… to Hook?”

“To Killian, yes. For over a year now.” Emma slid off the stool and positioned herself in front of her husband, directly between him and her father, planting her own feet as David’s jaw worked and his eyes flashed.

“But he’s… he’s…”

“Don’t say ‘a pirate,’” sighed Emma. “Please. You always say that like it’s the worst thing anyone could ever be, and it’s really not.”

“I mean, it’s not great,” said Neal.

“And anyway he isn’t one anymore,” Emma continued, ignoring him. “He traded his ship for a magic bean so that he could find me in New York and bring back my memories, and now he owns a bookstore.”

“He traded his ship?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Aye, mate, really.”

“For Emma?”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Emma,” said Killian, trying to infuse his words with all the weight of the emotions behind them. “I love her.”

David’s jaw relaxed a fraction, and his glare grew slightly less murderous.

“So hold on,” Snow said, placing a soothing hand on David’s arm. “Let me try to understand this. Are you saying you two weren’t cursed?”

“He wasn’t. I kind of was? It’s hard to explain,” said Emma. “Or, I guess not hard so much as long.”

“We have time,” said David, crossing his arms over his chest.

Emma sighed. “Okay. So basically, Killian learned that I was in danger in New York and he did what he had to do to get to me as soon as possible. He restored my memories and together we figured out what the danger was, and in the process we learned that Storybrooke must be back. I decided to come here to investigate. He didn’t want me to, but I insisted. As soon as I crossed the town line Zelena appeared in the middle of the road and when I swerved to avoid her I hit a tree and was knocked unconscious. While I was out she dosed me with a powder that had a similar effect to the curse. It took my memories away and gave me new ones. Of course I didn’t know any of this until I managed to break through the effects of the powder and remember everything again.” She shivered as she recalled how awful it had been, believing herself married to Walsh. Unable to remember Killian when she was awake, or even give him much useful information in their dreams.

“It took Killian a year to make the preparations he needed so that he could get into Storybrooke undetected by any magic, and during that time he lived in New York and took care of Henry. He had to learn all about how our world works, how to drive a car and use a computer and run a business. He did that all by himself because I wasn’t there with him, because I didn’t listen when he told me to wait.” Her voice broke as tears began to flow down her cheeks. Snow moved to comfort her but Emma waved her mother away, instead leaning into Killian when he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“He never gave up on me, though,” she continued, “and when the time was right he came to Storybrooke, helped bring my memories back again, and then figured out what we needed to do to break the curse.”

“He took care of Henry?” David’s expression had softened to something very nearly not hostile, just on the edge of accepting.

“Yeah, Grandpa.” The diner had gone silent as Emma told her tale, and now Henry came to stand next to Killian, pressing close against his side. “He’s my dad. Stepfather, technically, but my dad in every way that counts.”

Killian found himself swallowing over a lump in his throat, and blinking back tears, and the next words he heard nearly ended him.

“He saved my life,” Neal said quietly.

Every eye in the room turned to stare, and Neal, for once, did not smirk. “In the sheriff’s station, earlier today,” he explained. “Zelena and Hook and me both pinned down, and I couldn’t breathe. Emma was headed for Hook, to save him, and he told her no, she needed to save me first. If he hadn’t done that, I’d be dead.”

Slowly the eyes shifted their focus, fixing on Killian, who flushed bright red. “I was never in any true danger,” he said gruffly. “Some time ago, Emma placed a number of protection spells around me. They’ve proven remarkably effective against Zelena’s magic. I knew I could withstand whatever she threw at me, but Neal could not. That’s, er, why.”

“You still saved his life,” said Snow. “Whatever the reason.”

“Well, yes. I mean of course I did,” said Killian, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Why wouldn’t I?”

David’s face was stern but his eyes warm as he uncrossed his arms and held out his hand. “Welcome to the family,” he said. “Killian.”

Some time later, after Emma had finished her peculiar meal and was tucked into a booth chatting with Henry and her parents, Killian found himself at the counter again, this time with a tumbler of rum and his thoughts, when Neal appeared at his side.

“So, I guess I owe you thanks,” he said.

“I told you, I was never in any danger.”

“Still. Thanks.”

Killian turned to him, unsure whether to feel hurt or angry or something else entirely. “Do you really think I’d allow you to be killed if it was in my power to prevent it?” he asked. “Really?”

Neal shrugged. “I mean, we’ve certainly had our differences. In Neverland, and then with Emma. You might want me out of the way.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “Because of Emma? I can assure you there is no need.”

“Yeah, trust me man, I’ve picked up on that.” Neal accepted a beer from Granny and stared at it in silence for a moment. “You really love her, then?”

“Aye. I do.”

Neal nodded. “I can see it. In her too. She loves you, and so does Henry. And I—I’m really trying not to be an asshole here, but I gotta be honest. It feels like you’ve stolen my family. Again.”

Killian took a gulp of his rum. “I do understand how it might appear that way from where you’re standing, though I promise you there was no theft involved. Either time.” He cast Neal a challenging look. “You wouldn’t ever let me tell you about your mother, in Neverland. Are you willing to listen now?”

Neal’s mouth twisted. “Will it help?”

“I suppose that depends on the way you listen.”

“I don’t know if there’s any good way to listen to you talk about her.” Neal retorted. “You realise that you’ve fucked both my mother and the mother of my kid. Do you have any idea how weird that is for me?”

“I absolutely do.”

“It’s just—it’s gonna take me a while. And I’m not making any promises. I don’t owe you anything and you sure as hell don’t seem to feel you owe me. Did you think about me at all when you were moving in on Emma?”

“No, I didn’t. Because I never ‘moved in on Emma’ as you so charmingly put it. And because my relationship with her has nothing to do with you.”

“Then why did you promise to back off?”

“At the time I didn’t know just how connected Emma and I truly are. I knew how I felt, and that there was potential that someday she might feel the same. But I also knew that putting pressure on her to make a choice between us when she’d only just rescued Henry, and when not very long before she’d thought you were dead, well, there was no way that could end well for me. And as I told you then, I intended to play a very long game if necessary.”

“Not that long though, was it,” Neal sneered.

“Some of the longest years of my life, being separated from her,” muttered Killian to the last drops of his rum. “Especially this last one.” He glared at Neal. “I meant that promise when I made it. But truthfully, when I learned about the way things ended between you—how you left her by choice when all I wanted was to stay by her side forever—I regretted it.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t have a choice.”

“I understand that’s what you think. But your abandonment hurt Emma deeply in ways she still sometimes struggles with. And I find that very nearly unforgivable. If it were anyone else, Bae, anyone at all, I wouldn’t even try. But for the memory of your mother and of the boy you were, and for Henry’s sake, I am prepared to wipe the slate clean. If you will as well.”

Neal snorted. “Why should I?”

“Just because you and Emma aren’t romantically involved, that doesn’t mean you can’t be part of her life, and Henry’s. They both care about you, as do I.”

“So you want me to be part of your sweet little family?”

“I have wanted that for literal centuries.”

Neal’s scowl deepened as he fiddled with a loose bit of formica on the tabletop. “Tell me about my mother,” he growled.

“She loved you,” Killian replied. “That’s the main thing you need to know. She thought about you every day, told me stories of you all the time. But she was not the sort of person who was really cut out to be a parent. Can you understand that? How she could love you deeply and still not be able to be a good mother to you?”

“I—” Neal frowned, thinking of himself, and Henry. “I think maybe I can.”

"She was desperately unhappy in the life she had before we met. I’ve done some reading on the subject and I believe she suffered from what the psychiatry of this realm calls ‘clinical depression.’ She felt hopeless to the point of despair, and though she tried to disguise it with carousing in the tavern and seeking any sort of distraction from her feelings she could find, she knew deep down that it could never be enough. She was worried that her pain would drag you down too, and she couldn’t bear to see that happen. She thought that by leaving you with a loving father who would give you the best life he could that she was giving you your best chance, and she hoped very much that when you were older she could seek you out and you might allow her a place in your life again. I’m so terribly sorry that never came to pass.”

“So you can barely forgive me leaving Emma for her own good, but you justify my mother leaving me for mine?” Neal snarled.

“The circumstances aren’t entirely the same, but I take your point. I understand you find it difficult to forgive your mother, and me. But make no mistake, Neal, Milah intended to escape her life, one way or the other. I offered her a preferable alternative to some of the others she was considering, and I like to think she was as happy with me as she could have been. Sometimes there are no good options available and you simply have to take the least bad one.”

“Like I have to choose between hanging around here and watching you be happy with my ex, or leaving and not seeing Henry anymore.”

“Aye. Like that.”

Silence fell between them again, heavy with resentment. Neal drank deeply from his beer, his knuckles white around the handle of the mug. When it was empty he set it forcefully on the counter and turned to face Killian.

“I’ll take that clean slate,” he said. “I’m definitely not saying I’m ready for us to be happy families, okay, and I might never be, but I’m tired of holding on to this anger. And hey, if you can stop being angry anyone can, right?”

Killian nodded, swallowing over the lump in his throat. “Aye. I’d say they can.”

Epilogue coming soon! (like later tonight soon!) LINK TO THE EPILOGUE

@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @katie-dub @kmomof4 @teamhook @stahlop @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @thejollyroger-writer @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89 @ultraluckycatnd @resident-of-storybrooke

#cs ff #cs ff au #cs fic #captain swan #their way by moonlight #happy endings #and beginnings too

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the-nysh · 4 years ago

Note

At what point in the story you started liking Garou as a character? What was his first impression on you and how did it changed later as the story progressed?

Oooh! What a GREAT question, I’m so glad you asked! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ (Cause yes, my perceptions of him certainly did change over time! And that’s one of the fun things I love to see happen with other opm fans too.) So let’s see…*pulls up a chair and shovel to dig thru nearly 5yrs of archives* where to begin~

It was definitely a gradual process (so buckle in, this is gonna be a looong chronological trip thru memory lane. About 3500~ words!)

First impressions

Early on (and cause I’m skeptical to most new characters who I don’t ‘know’ yet), I remember feeling kinda like ‘huh? Who the heck is this guy? This wannabe Hiruma-lookalike (recognizing some of Murata’s recycled Eyeshield 21 char design elements for him) with some silly double Vegeta hair? The hell does he think he’s doing??’ Beyond being kinda incredulous about him, I honestly didn’t really give him much passing thought or attention either, and definitely not anything on a deeper level yet. He was just kinda there (I suppose?), but also out there forcefully (cockily and somewhat annoyingly?) inserting himself as the ‘villain’ into the story at times (which wasn’t really my thing), seemingly WAY in over his head with reckless antics and overambitious about what he was claiming to be and challenging himself to do (which I thought seemed both ridiculous and ironic to set up like that when characters like Saitama exist to directly check/refute his aims).

So at the time I wasn’t fully ‘on board’ or invested much in his story/concept yet cause I hadn’t really seen him…define himself (beyond those first impressions) into his own fleshed-out character. Because he still kept reminding me too much of other characters (I even heard him with Hiruma’s voice) rather than breaking out on his own. Murata’s early art also had yet to really evolve and settle him into his own distinguishable ‘face’ for that matter too (he would though later, when he’d draw ‘Garou’ recognizable as himself and not like…‘Hiruma’s shadow’ anymore). So with all that coming in, it’s hard to ‘see’ or genuinely ‘like’ a char at first when they haven’t done much yet to distinguish themselves from others and grow into their own. (Oho, how time will tell~)

This impression of Garou hadn’t really changed much and continued all thru the Metal Bat fight, by the way. (I actually caught up to the manga around the time Murata introduced MB with the centipedes and was about to start his fight with Garou. Events which weren’t on my highest priority to see either, cause I still mostly preferred seeing Saitama + Genos interact instead.) But on a surface level, I at least knew Garou was fun/impressive to watch and his excitable/feral energy was infectious and entertaining (Murata really knew how to hype him up too), but other than that, I’d yet to really ‘like’ him on his own (enough to talk/blog about) still.

I first eased into reblogging stuff with him back in Oct 2016, which included the first reblog of his back muscles (lol) appreciating how Murata drew him facing Watchdog Man so ksjggh that part of the story (when Murata was teasing their fight) was also when Garou starting having a presence on my blog. :O

First turning point

However, I distinctly remember the first ‘aha I see now’ point in understanding him better was when I did a second reread of the webcomic. (I don’t exactly remember when that was, but probably sometime during the tournament arc when the pace was kinda dragging, so I prob reread the wc around then for fun.) It was around early-April 2017 when I later admitted that (in the tags):

I’ve come to really like Garou, a second read of the webcomic made me fond of him, of his background and ideas he wished to set out and change, his heart was in it and he had his set of morals, but he was young and brashly took the wrong path, I really want to see him return someday now that he's learned better

Cause following the big webcomic reveal at the end of his arc (when Saitama calls him out), going back thru his entire story again you could totally spot all the consistent hints and signs (from both his backstory and actions) ONE sprinkled the entire time, making everything revealed about him true, and not suddenly sprung up outta nowhere. It was finally like ‘aaah, I understand what’s up with him and can sympathize where he’s coming from. Yes that makes sense. :O’ However, this clarity/acknowledgment had yet to shift from simply ‘seeing’ or understanding a thing as knowledge, to actually feeling it (connecting on a deeper/personal level) later. That’ll remain a big distinction.

May 2017, I first started writing some early meta break downs about him, starting with his end-arc parallels in Suiryu’s despair moment and from this, there was acknowledgement how all ONE’s manga additions (up til then this was still all tournament arc stuff) were only building further context towards what’s to come much later on in the webcomic.

June 2017, I started posting stream coverage about him (vs Watchdog Man stuff when he intercepts King and Saitama.) Around this time I also admit this kinda stuff in tags ‘goodness how I love that this nerd has a soft spot for that kid (truthfully he's not monstrous at all)’ for appreciating the manga’s wholesome extra Tareo moments.

Second big turning point

Around Sept-Oct 2017 was when post content/stream coverage kinda started exploding during the whole vs A/B heroes + shed fight. This whole sequence, following the tournament arc, was the first big long-awaited return back to the wc’s script (with style!), but with significant expansions (esp to his character) never seen before. In particular, the bullet shielding moment was changed/revised from him simply standing there in the wc, to Garou protecting Tareo in the shed.

Truly awesome and moving because dang, he selflessly put his life on the line for that ‘Garou the determinator fending off the impossible while protecting a kid ;o;’ Firmly standing up to (injustices) and revealing his solid moral core, like wow, what a guy. <3

Murata’s stream output picked up significantly back then too (compared to his slower pace drawing the previous arcs), so I also admitted: ‘gosh been cheering for Murata's hard work just like Garou's in-chapter determination!’

But also cause this whole fight was like the first actual, legit demonstration (shown, not told) of Garou’s prodigious fighting skills, intelligence, tenacity, resourcefulness, perseverance, etc. Like this is what he’s actually capable of when pushed to the brink; testing the actual quality of his character (showing his true colors) and allowing those merits to shine while under unfavorable, difficult, and desperate conditions. And all impressively done in a way to make the audience both believe it and root for him (presented from his side much like a protagonist? Wild! 8D) It was extremely thrilling and badass (truly that whole shed part was brilliant, narratively and spectacle-wise. As I’ve repeatedly gone back to write about many times and again. :’D) My impressions of Garou around this time:

yoooo boi see I really like Garou, the wild prodigy determinator with a misguided goal, going all out and demonstrating his talent and prowess (even tho he gets in over his head), PROTECTING CHILDREN WHEN HE PRETENDS HE DOESN'T CARE, omfg what a softie (as Saitama would say) :'D, yaaa see he was never a 'real' monster at all, Saitama can see straight through him, and what he REALLY wants to achieve

Dec 2017, first started getting some sporadic Garou anons after the whole epic manga spectacle vs Genos + Bang + EC fight with everyone.

Jan 2018, back when Garou was captured in the MA base and then left to his own devices above ground…things started getting really interesting. Including noticing ONE’s more careful (or perhaps more transparent?) approach to writing Garou’s manga portrayal this time around. Different and more nuanced from the wc for instance, so there were many fascinating contradictions and complexities to uncover (break down meta-wise) about his convictions, beliefs, thoughts, feelings, and how he applied those thru his actions and behavior (revealing decisive acts of character). This was when @gofancyninjaworld also started joining in to discuss and explore Garou’s ongoing dilemma with his goals and mindset. “His heart is in the right place, but his means are not, because at his core, he’s not a monster.” I admitted ‘Garou’s one of the most well-written characters in the story, I feel.’ And I was really looking forward to all the significant changes ONE was doing to make his manga story all the more defined and cohesive than it already was in the wc. That made things extra engaging (when there’s a desire to look deeper into things for fun and excitement for more).

Third turning point

Feb 2018 Oooh man. It was around here, (when Garou saves Tareo from the bullies and confronts RR and Bug God) that I was really starting to feel that shift happening (the impression of him turning into something more), so I had to comment on his ongoing characterization presented thus far (budding into a well-rounded, 3 dimensional character) and how ONE was (re)writing him in a more personal, sympathetic light that made him so easy to root for and genuinely likeable. I was fully AWARE of this happening and what both Murata and ONE were doing to increase his appeal. Admitting the more they revealed of him the more I was falling deeper for him, and fully welcoming it by narrative design. (Like alright let’s goooo! 8’D) Cause it was obvious how much differently and expansive he was getting portrayed vs the wc (with much less moral ambiguity). I said:

“Garou’s not simply a rogue, prodigious teen going on a spiteful rampage with an overconfident, slasher smile. Consistently, he’s been shown what really makes him tic: what gets him serious, passionate, sincere, and desperate – things that force his hand to either fight or defend against, with standards and ideals that he’d put his life on the line for. All of it is great: a variety of expressive emotions and definitive acts of character that all build towards the whole. Which we’re then left to ponder exactly what that is. Is he truly a villain or a hero? Is he really a troublemaking bad guy or actually a misguided ‘nice guy’? The answer isn’t so black and white; it’s more like a mix of ALL of the above. And I LIKE that. As ONE has presented him, Garou is Garou, and not really someone to align or classify as simply one or the other. He’s in that kind of delicious gray zone where he’s getting put to the brink to show his true colors. And it’s so GOOD and refreshing to see.”

That plus the manga showing his deeper bond with Tareo, his gruffly protective qualities (ok but that’s kinda hot?) and a more sincere showing of his morals (which he refused to budge on no matter what anyone else ordered him to do), brought on all the feels. :’)

Stream coverage + ch commentary devolved to like unintelligible screaming, with some ‘man he’s so fucking cool,’ or ‘damn protective Garou’s SOO good,’ or ‘I swear the more Murata draws of him the more I fall for him like wtf,’ or even the flat out ‘GODDAMMIT MURATA ;A;’ types of suffering reactions, ahaha.

At this point I was all ‘bring on the Garou appreciation; he deserves it; I have a mighty NEED’ but was kinda annoyed/frustrated with the fandom cause there was hardly any recent fan content of him (relevant to his current plot progression, it was all suspiciously dry or old ship-related content I wasn’t interested in cause the plot had moved on, so I was like omg where is everybody, hello?!) It was already a dry spell in between seasons so overall fan content was slow anyway, but it seemed like there were so few actual fans of him (to my confusion?!) So I started making my own content (beyond just the stream coverage and ch reactions/commentary + meta) with the expression posts appreciation.

March 2018. U-uhoh, things (and posting frequency especially) were starting to escalate. His reaction to literally getting backstabbed by the monsters and losing Tareo (his quiet but seething controlled feral rage) definitely had me feeling™ things.

Final nail in the coffin

April 2018 Oshit;; Garou forcefully storming and bulldozing his way thru the MA base, his awesome BIG DAMN HEROES moment rescuing Tareo from Royal Ripper, to his hilarious absolute tsundere™ moment denying it (before running into Rover and immediately protecting the kid again) pretty much destroyed me. This was also like the first time I’d seen ONE make a character go full tsundere mode and pull it off in a genuine comedic way (with the classic ‘it’s not like I came here to save you or anything baka’ line and all) so pfft, that was so much endearing icing on the cake. :’D

At this point someone even asked me who’s my favorite opm character, to which I was all, ‘Garou’s current manga content has been on fire so he’s been quickly skyrocketing into my favs (if he wasn’t there already)!’

But then Murata soon dropped THIS ‘protect the child’ page all with perfect timing, and I was…fucking doomed.

'sugoi ojisan' was pretty much the moment of instant death for me ;A; my constant reaction to the streams has been that gaijin 4koma meme with laser heart eyes for emphasis, and I'm pretty much losing my ability to articulate much beyond screaming at this rate

Garou’s behavior could then be summarized as ‘a very stubborn and in denial asshole tsundere little shit nerd. <3’ But there was classic ONE heartwarming irony in there too, cause Garou hadn’t fully ‘lost’ his battles either…during those critical times where he actually assumed the role of the ‘hero’ for Tareo instead. (Oho~)

basically Garou is a great character, the more you look into how ONE has built him the more meta af it gets

May 2018 (the long-awaited debut of the wc ‘scarf’ vs Rover towards Garou vs Orochi’s epic wtfshitstorm) lolwhoops~ I finally made the inevitable back muscles compilation while also writing longer, more in depth meta posts about him.

Murata delivered some of the best stream content we’ve seen of him. (Completely on FIRE, both literally and figuratively. And looking back, this was probably some of the most fun Murata’s stream sessions ever got. :’D Was awesome to be a fan tuning in during this time.)

even Murata was doodling chibis of himself freaking out in the margins XD

Delivering content from the pose of peak badassery…to dropping stream doodles of peak heartwarming/cuteness (Garou & Tareo in suits) on the fans for good measure.

bam Murata’s out to kill us with his art ...Murata can you like -maybe- chill? ABSOLUTELY NOT

Basically Murata knew exactly what he was doing, always delivering and servicing the fans (drawing the coke bottle was a fan suggestion too) yet also remaining a huge tease~

Towards S2 and beyond

June 2018, following the Orochi fight, Garou was put on a bus and absent from the manga for a while, so I went back revisiting older content again (rereading the manga for fun) and realizing/noticing/wondering stuff I hadn’t really caught about him before like…oh no why is he cute?? Was he always this way or had my eyes finally opened after everything??? (Cause aside from him being a little shit or a cool badass, he was also a complete dork and a nerd, and an oblivious dummy, and just…that was so…wtf endearing, a full package of fun to enjoy.)

But we soon got clips of Midorikawa’s voice reveal (from the opm drama cd) and all hell broke loose among the resident Garou fans. 8’D Especially cause his voice was ‘dark/smooth/mature/sexy’ as opposed to a higher-pitched, unhinged teen voice many had expected (remember that old Hiruma voice I first thought for him? So interestingly many fanboys were disappointed with this deeper voice casting). But also cause Midorikawa said “I’ll do my best to make Garou even more charming than before,” so we were excited to see Garou’s popularity spike even more cause of s2.

Aug 2018, the s2 key visual revealed with Garou prominently featured up and center and I WAS NOT PREPARED!!! I remember having like a full hyper-incoherent breakdown because of this so…yeaaaaah. 8’D I was all rationalizing,

If anything it’s all Murata and ONE’s fault that (the hype and appreciation for him) feeling’s grown even stronger. He was already a thoroughly fun walking meta source, but the manga made his softer/compassionate moments much more obvious (than in the wc). Just watch as this badass dorky nerd becomes even more hugely popular than he already is!

April 2019 was his anime debut…coincided with his post-arc WEBCOMIC DEBUT AFTER 5 FUCKING YEARS (before he even returned in the manga even) IMPECCABLE timing from ONE, holy shit people lost their minds. Including Murata, who had to draw him too! With all that and the anime airing (adding even more wholesome cute Tareo interactions not seen in the manga), fandom participation (+anons) really started to kick off.

I remember seeing the influx of new fans and how so many (who didn’t ‘know’ him yet either) would unironically label him as genuinely ‘evil’ or a ‘heinous villain’ at face value, which….uhhhhhh were the kinda takes that were hard to take seriously, but I appreciated how ONE’s writing allowed the readers to see and think for themselves as the narrative revealed more (rather than believing everything the characters said or claimed), so it’d only be a matter of time until they ‘saw’ the truth about him too. :’)

May-July 2019 the anime continued airing with fandom activity popping, until August when he finally reappeared and ‘awoke’ in the manga! ;A; After like an entire full year of him mia too. This was also the time frame when all the thirsty (and interestingly meta-hungry) Garou anons started (finding me???) regularly chiming in with fun participation. I was grateful though, cause they prompted certain takes I couldn’t have come up with on my own, and allowed me to think, examine, and explain things much more closely and thoroughly than I had ever posted before. (Yaaay~) Such as looking into just what IS it about him?!

“Garou wouldn’t be as compelling, engaging, and appealing as a character without (all) those other interesting layers and nuances to talk about too! :D It’s even better that way! Cause Murata can draw everyone looking drop-dead gorgeous and conventionally attractive, so just having a pretty face and impressive muscles isn’t enough to make him stand out in a special way from the rest of the cast. Already all those things (about him) are certainly impressive, so just what is it about him in particular? (That makes him unique.) The fact Garou has all that AND those other compassionate & interesting qualities to him just makes it the icing on the cake for a complete, well-rounded package. The fact we can know him, for all his feelings and attitude why he behaves and acts the way he does, such as when he’s contradictory, troubled and tsundere-like sometimes, to hardcore and badass other times, to softer and empathetic to fiercely righteous, protective and determined other times, and all portrayed in the way he’s capable of the range (and makes us feel) the entire spectrum of emotion too. …Like whoa (I could keep going but I’d be preaching to the choir at that point aha), all that only enhances what’s already there. In this way, I feel the Garou we’ve come to know by now is much more endearing and appealing than the one we were introduced to at the start. Because as he appeared then, he may have seemed like just another wannabe thug-of-the-week we might not have given much passing thought & attention to. But now…uhoh, you could arguably say he’s grown to the point he’s almost taken over the rest of the manga (within good reason!) by challenging our perception of who’s even the active protagonist. :O Who keeps us engaged and tuned in to see more. Buaha, just what the hell happened?! Now that’s quite the impressive feat from both ONE and Murata to create a character with a lasting impact like that!”

…So that’s what happened. :’D In my opinion, I feel Garou’s best moments where we (or really, I) got to know him better (shed scene, Elder Centipede aftermath, dine n dash, rescuing Tareo, all up towards his fights vs Rover & Orochi) mostly only happen until after s2 so… Since those were some of my absolute fav manga moments (which only enhanced my perceptions of him), those’ll be the moments I’m really looking forward to see animated in s3. But most of all, I’m hoping to witness some of that same ‘aha!’ gradual realization process happen to newer fans who come to appreciate him too. :’3

#Anonymous #replies #opm #garou #commentary #long post #(readmore pls actually work! ...i think it broke after editing it once)#anyway THIS took plenty of time to put together and relive/remember all those moments from years ago 8'D #how things certainly changed (and escalated!) but here's a breakdown of everything; enjoy~

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lindsaylouus · 5 years ago

Text

10 Lords a-Leaping 🔟🔟🔟 (NCT - Haechan)

A/N: Emoji game, slightly more literal than yesterday. Enjoy!

‘Bye Miss Y/N!!!’ The little ones called as they filed out the door in a flurry to meet their parents.

‘Bye Kids! Merry Christmas, be good!!’ You waved back at them, waiting until they’d all safely left.

You slumped in your chair, head leaning back and breathed a sigh of relief. You loved those kids, but boy were they a handful. Luckily, it was the last class before the Christmas break, and you needed it. Home, shower, dinner, bed. That sounded about right.

However, looking around the room, all you could see was paint, glitter and glue strewn all over the large table in the centre of the room and all over the floor. There was even mess on the underside of the table.

How?! How do kids manage to do this?

When the local Church was calling for volunteers to help out with arts classes for children at the Community Centre, you were all for it. It’ll be fun, give a little back, make a difference to kids maybe? That’s what Christmas is about, right?

You’d even talked a couple of your friends into helping too.

But how wrong you felt. All your Saturday evenings had been filled with since, were scrubbing wax crayon off every available surface, trying desperately to get poster paint out of your clothes (some of the kids were wild with a paintbrush), stopping little ones from attempting to eat PVA glue and making sure they created art on paper and NOT each others faces.

You didn’t mean to moan, but it was super draining and you began to wonder if you were actually getting anything out of this. And if you were making a difference at all for the kids themselves.

Ugh, anyway, the sooner I get this cleaned up, the sooner I can get home.

As you began to collect the supplies off the table, you suddenly heard loud shouting coming from outside the door. Out of pure curiosity, you stopped what you were doing and followed the raucous.

As you walked down the corridor and turned the corner into the assembly hall, you saw two of your friends reenacting, what seemed like, a scene from a medieval drama. They were so deep in character, they didn’t even notice you entering.

‘I now appoint you... LORD HAECHAN!!’ Mark’s voice echoed through the large hall. He was holding a plastic sword, tapping it once on each of Haechan’s shoulders. ‘ARISEEEEE!!’

‘Now that I am a Lord.. I CHALLENGE YOU!!’ Haechan pulled another plastic sword from his side and pointed it toward Mark.

‘Dude! I thought we were friends,’ Mark responded with mock shock and disappointment.

‘You thought wrong!!!’ Haechan shouted as he slowly charged at Mark.

The two of them were now having the slowest dual you think you’ve ever seen. They were slow-mo fighting, knocking the swords together until Haechan plunged his underneath Mark’s arm.

Mark's fake death was certainly dramatic. He fell backwards onto the floor, reaching a hand out toward Haechan.

'It.. didn't ha..have to e-end like, th..this,' he stuttered as he continued to sink to the floor.

'Of course it did,' Haechan declared, 'you killed my father!' Sword pointed at Mark's face. We're now in Star Wars, it seems.

'No Haechan... I AM YOUR FATHERRRR!!'

'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!' Haechan fell to his knees.

What a sight. Your two friends were now on the floor, shrieking at the top of their lungs.

Haechan staggered to his feet, you felt an epic monologue coming on.

'What have I don.. Ah! My Queen! You have arrived.' Oh no, he's spotted you. ‘Look, you even sparkle!’ Haechan pointed to your hair, and you realised you had rouge bits of glitter stuck to some strands.

You crossed your arms, 'You guys know that you’re knighted with swords, not made into a Lord?’

‘Details, details Y/N,’ Haechan dismissed your grumpy comment with a wave of his hand.

You continued none the less, ‘and aren't you two supposed to be music teachers? What's with the props today?' You looked around the hall, scattered, were all sorts of musical instruments, but the swords were a new edition.

‘That’s where you’re wrong, Y/N.’ Mark had risen off of the floor and took Haechan’s sword. ‘Where you see Lord’s swords, we see... music.’

‘Music,’ Haechan whispered to you, mimicking Mark’s words.

Whilst Mark was beating the swords against the stage, like he was playing the drums, Haechan was busting moves, b-boying around the hall with Mark’s encouragement.

These clowns, they’d certainly cheered you up this evening.

‘Well, have fun you guys, I’m gonna go and scrape glue off of scissors.’ You turned around and headed back to your messy classroom.

Twenty minutes of tidying later, Haechan came bounding through the door, ‘Ta-daaa!’ He sang as he landed in the room, arms spread, ‘get it, Y/N?.. I leapt.. like a Lord.. a leaping Lord?’

‘You were a knight..’

‘Details Y/N!!’ Haechan once again dismissed your correction. ‘You’ll make me regret coming to help you.’ He immediately started to organise pens, making sure all of them had the right colour tops. One thing you could always rely on, is Haechan’s ability to tidy.

‘Well, if that’s the case, thank you. Lord Haechan,’ you smiled, he smiled and everything wasn’t as gloomy as it seemed twenty minutes ago.

Not long after, the room was finally beginning to look the way it had originally. As the last boxes of paint bottles and felt pens were put in their rightful place, Haechan noticed something left on one of the chairs.

‘Y/N, I think this is for you,’ he held out a beautiful picture of a Christmas tree, with your name spelled out in bright red glitter.

Dear Miss Y/N, Merry Christmas! Thank you for being my teacher. Love, Yuna.

Well wasn’t that the cutest thing? Yuna was one of the more shy children in your class, but she was so kind and sweet. She must’ve been a little too timid to give this to you herself, so she’d left it behind for you.

‘Still think you don’t make a difference?’ Haechan asked in the quiet room.

You’d made it no secret to Haechan that you had been struggling with your classes.

‘I don’t know.. maybe,’ you kept looking at the picture. ‘I mean, I know they’re really good kids. I just wanna be a positive influence you know. I guess, sometimes I don’t feel like they really need me.’

Haechan pulled up a chair, knowing that just by listening to you, he was helping you clear your mind. You mirrored him and sat down.

When you really thought about it, every thank you Miss, every see you next week Miss and every Miss, look at this! meant something to you.

‘They really are awesome, messy, but awesome. Like, today, Gongchan helped Sungjae hold his scissors correctly. And, Dasom helped Umji mix paints together so she could get the perfect shade of pink...’

You couldn’t help but smile as you remembered all the times your class had cared for each other. And in turn, all the times you’d cared for them. Like when Yuna needed encouragement when she didn’t think her drawing was very good or when you drew a dot-to-dot to help Sehun write his own name on his work.

Little things.

‘See?’ Haechan said, almost reading your thoughts.

‘See what?’ You looked at him, confused.

‘You need them, as much as they need you. You shouldn’t doubt yourself Y/N, I’ve seen you with those kids. They love you and you love them, that’s what making a difference is about.’

‘Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?’ You were stunned, but so thankful that you could call him that. ‘You’re proud of that one, aren’t you?’

‘Naturally,’ he smirked, ‘they don’t call me Lord Haechan for nothing!’ He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, feeling smug.

‘No one calls you that,’ you said as you got up and tucked your chair under the table.

‘You did.’

‘Touché.’ He had you there.

As you both got ready to grab your stuff before leaving the Centre, Haechan made an offer that you couldn’t refuse.

‘Wanna come over to my house tonight? Mom’s making Samgyeopsal. Food of the LORDSSSS.’

Oh wow, how many times am I gonna hear that over Christmas?... A lot.

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct haechan #nct mark #haechan #nct fuff #nct imagines #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 fluff #lee haechan #lee haechan fluff #mark lee #nct 127 haechan #kpop christmas #haechan fanfiction #haechan fluff #haechan fic

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proherostories · 4 years ago

Text

A Dragon for a Hotblooded Blond

AO3 LINK

WC - 1648

Archive Warnings - Rated T & No Archive Warnings apply.

Pairing - BakuKiri/Poprocks

Summary - After chaperoning his drunk friends the week prior, Bakugo decides to go back to the tattoo parlor they'd gone to all because a redhead caught his eye.

Notes - Red eyes don't exist in real life [sadly] so the use of a) contacts and b) tricks of the light were implemented

Written for "#writersmonth2020" from THIS POST

Day 1 Prompt = tattoo artist/flower shop AU

BTW - Never written Bakugo before so plz be gentle DX

To say Kirishima was surprised to see the hotblooded blond from last weekend was a severe understatement.

He’d come in with a rowdy group of drunks, and while he had appeared to be the most sober of the bunch, he had a peachy tint to his face that he kept denying was the alcohol since he was supposedly the ‘designated driver’. Kirishima had doubted it, but he wasn’t about to push. He himself had driven home tipsy before, as stupid as it was and he would never condone it.

The blond had kept shouting at his friends to either ‘be quiet’ or he was telling them how dumb their tattoo choices were. It’d been hella funny, to watch them all go to the guy for approval and then cheer when all he said was ‘whatever’ or grunt. Calling back to the manga he had in his teenage years, Kirishima would’ve called him the ‘tsundere’ type hands down.

“Hey man,” Kirishima called to him, waving from the desk. It was a slow day so he was spending it organizing stuff. His co-workers Mina and Jiro were out after he’d told them to go home. No need for all three of them to be there when it was stupidly boring. Besides, he wanted Jiro to have all the time in the world to get ready for her date with a girl named Momo. Good on Jiro for landing a lady like that, hella.

‘Blond dude’ grunted back at him, and Kirishima only kept a passive eye on him. With how he’d kept his drunk friends in line he wasn’t worried about him being a thief or anything. “Something catch your eye last time? Didn’t peg ya for a tattoo sort of guy.”

“What makes you say that?” ‘blond dude’ sneered at him, his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.

Kirishima only arched a brow at him and then shrugged, “Dunno. Guess it was how you seemed to give zero fucks, is all. What can I call ya?”

“The name’s Bakugo. What about you? Can’t keep callin’ ya ‘shitty hair’.”

A snort-laugh escaped the redhead, “Rude, I at least just referred to you as ‘blond dude’. My name’s Kirishima.” he flashed him a smirk and leaned back. His eyes, black hidden by red contacts, flicked up and down as he looked the other over. "So, I still gotta beg the question- you looking for a tat?"

That was where...Bakugo's demeanor seemed to change. Shifting and glancing around again with his lips pulled into a scowl. "What if I am? Anything you'd suggest, shitty hair?"

"I gave you my name and ya still call me that? I'm hurt, Bakugo," he did a mock press of his hand to his chest but he stood up and stretched, sighing when there were a few pops. Sauntering over to an end table he found the binder that had all of his work and brought it to Bakugo, "Here, take a look at-" he cut off as he met the other man's eyes. Whoa, wicked! With the sun coming in from the window, it was catching on Bakugo's eyes, which were like a cinnamon brown and they were shining orange or a particular shade of red.

It made Kirishima's breath catch even further when that peachy blush he remembered appeared, but he looked a mix of angry and flustered, brows pulled down and teeth bared, "What?! What were ya gunna say?!"

"Whoa, whoa, chill out," Kirishima put his hands up in defense, looking sheepish, "Your eyes looked really cool there for a sec, is all. I was going to say, have a look at what is in that binder. There's three people that do art here, so if nothing catches your attention then I'll give you another portfolio."

"Where's yours?" Bakugo was looking less like he was going to bite his head off and he opened the portfolio.

"In your hands," Kirishima smirked before going back to his desk, adding a pop to his step. He was hoping he'd pick something from the first one, and had a feeling it was a challenge now to do so anyway.

He had reached his destination when he was stopped, “Wait.” Bakugo was staring intently at a page in the binder, “You drew this?” he held it up with one hand and pointed at the drawing in question with the other. It was concept art rather than a finished tattoo piece, but it was a detailed Chinese-style dragon with a rendered head, horns and scales until it reached halfway down the body. That was where it started having curved cuts and breaks in a tribal style, the color of the scales fading out into the black simplicity tribal was supposed to be.

“I sure did. No one’s wanted it yet, it’s supposed to go on the arm to accommodate the winding of its body. People who come in wanting dragons tend to have different ideas in mind.” Kirishima tilted his head, curious but also his heart was suddenly pounding. It’d been in that portfolio so long, he’d contemplated taking out multiple times. He’d done it with other pieces that never got attention, but something always held him back from removing that one. The orange of it with tints of red and flecks of yellow always made him melt. He was a sucker for fire, and while yellow was hard to do in tattoos [something he learned along the way] he knew it wasn’t impossible.

“Can you do it, Kirishima?” Bakugo’s intensity hadn’t faded and Kirishima almost had a heart attack. Wow, was he crushing on this customer? He thought the banter was just good fun, but now he found he really wanted to try and make a good impression. “Even if you’ve never actually done it before, do you think you can now?”

He paused and looked between the drawing and back at Bakugo a few times. With a deep breath through his nose, he nodded, “Yes.” The confidence and the fact he hadn’t answered right away seemed to satisfy the blond, “When I first drew it a few years ago, maybe not. Now? Yes. I have the skills and the know-how, I can definitely do that piece justice.”

“How much? How does this work?” Bakugo joined him at his desk and set the portfolio down, then startled Kirishima by taking off his black jacket.

“Haha, well, I’d like to do a few touchups, and I’d have to solidify at least the outline so I can print and place it on your arm. This’ll give you time to think it-”

“I won’t change my mind, and we’ll do it on my right arm,” Bakugo was firm, holding out the length of his arm for him, “How big will it be?”

“Back to price real fast, the shop goes by time rather than how big or small a tattoo is. 75 dollars for half an hour as a baseline.” Kirishima laughed again but softer as he soaked in the sight. “Damn, man, you’re ripped. Do you have a heavy lifting job or do you just work out?” His touch was light as he took Bakugo’s wrist in his hand and pushed up the short sleeve. Glancing at the image then back at his arm he hummed thoughtfully.

Bakugo gave him a scoff with a smirk attached to it, “I do work out. I have a home gym. An actual one is too damn distracting and paying for a stupid pass is fucking useless with how busy I get.”

Kirishima snorted, “I getcha. I tend to go to a gym between here and my house.” He didn’t catch Bakugo holding his breath when he started tracing where he’d place the tattoo. The muscles were firm and nice to feel. He didn’t know why he was so aware of the other, but he was. Sure he’d had sexy guys and gals in his shop, but Bakugo was different somehow. “So I’d put the head of it here...go around like this, keep it out of the crease of your elbow of course...end it about here? I try and keep sleeve tattoos to the point where they can be covered by long shirts.”

Bakugo humphed, “Do whatever. I don’t care.”

“It’s going to take a lot of work, maybe two or three sessions. I’d suggest bringing a soda or a bag of chocolate, anything that’ll help keep your blood sugar up. Depending on your job and schedule, we can space it to accommodate. I’d do the whole outline first of course. Maybe black fill in next, and lastly the color.”

“Fine.” Bakugo put his sleeve down and moved to put his jacket back on, “I got the time to stay for now. You said you needed to make changes, so I’ll wait and see if I even like what you change.” He pulled his phone out, “You need my number for scheduling, right?”

“Sure do,” Kirishima was amused again and he walked around his desk to his computer, “Lemme bring up my calendar and we’ll get you set up, Bakubro.” He paused, “Ah, can I call ya that? It just slipped out, so-”

“Call me what you want.” Bakugo scoffed again, finding a chair to bring nearby so he could watch what Kirishima was doing, “Let me know when you’re done and I can look at it. Artists are picky about that sort of thing, aren’t they?”

“I don’t mind so much unless I’m embarrassed about it or keeping it a surprise,” Kirishima chuckled, booting up his programs after he put down Bakugo’s appointments and number, “I’m also glad you stayed. I like the company on a boring day like this.”

He noted that Bakugo didn’t respond besides a grunt, but he smiled anyway. Giddy and inspired, he pulled the tattoo design from the portfolio and got to work.

#writersmonth2020 #I didn't want to format it here on tumblr #so here you go #I'm going to bed now #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #kiribaku #poprocks #bakukiri #tattoo artist au #modern au #modern verse

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