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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years

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Cold Shoulder

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this nor do I own anything recognizable. Also, I edited after a glass of wine. So. I think I shall blame any mistakes on that.

Word count: 2317

Warnings: Mild descriptions of violence

Request: Aragorn x Reader where he protects the reader but she is mad at him because of that and gives him a silent shoulder. Much fluff please (Anon)

A/n Anon, thank you for the request!! I enjoyed writing this and love me some Aragorn content <3 Also, for context, I placed the reader in the Fellowship. Okay, read on!

The sharp cry pierces the peace of the early morning.

“Orcs!”

Legolas, who had been standing watch and discovered the threat, immediately begins firing arrows, keeping the pack at bay. The rest of us spring into action, drawing weapons and shouldering our bags, looking to Aragorn to determine our next move. Despite the jolt of fear that runs through me, I know that luck is on our side. For one, our group had planned to set out shortly, meaning our camp is packed and we run no risk of leaving anything behind. Second, it was Legolas on watch, and his keen eyesight gave us critical early warning.

I feel a rough hand wrap around mine, and I’m yanked into a sprint. I nearly stumble at the speed Aragorn sets, but force myself to keep pace. A quick look at my surroundings tells me why we’re running — our camp is secluded, but there are too many high spots around us for it to be favorable in a fight. I can assume that we are making for higher or more open ground, so that we will not be at a disadvantage when the orc pack inevitably catches us.

There’s a muffled yelp, and I whip my head around to see Frodo tripping and falling roughly to the ground.

“Aragorn—” His name has barely left my lips when I feel his hands on my back, spurring me on, and he leaves my side, running back to aid our hobbit friend. Closer than I would like, the wails of the orc grow louder, and, at my right, Boromir speeds up, hauling Merry along with him.

The three of us break through the tree-line first, and immediately, an arrow whizzes above my head.

Damn it, they cut us off!

I don’t have much time to dwell on how the monsters got around us unnoticed, because a tall, imposing orc lunges in my direction. I raise my dagger and put all my focus into not letting the orc’s razor-sharp sword pierce my skin.

The shrieks and grunts of battle, as well as the shrill clanking of metal hitting metal fill the air. The orc jabs his sword at me, and I jump to my left. As the orc takes another swing, an arrow soars mere millimeters from my ear and imbeds itself in my attacker’s eye. I don’t even have time to shoot Legolas a thankful glance, because another beast catches my arm and pulls me against his foul-smelling side. I swipe at his arm with my dagger, and with a howl of pain, he throws me to the ground, raising his sword. I roll to the side, narrowly dodging the slice of steel, and push myself back to my feet. The orc is distracted, struggling with his weapon which is embedded in the ground, leaving the side of his neck exposed. I lift my dagger, and step forward, intent on ending this fight—

An arm grips my waist and pulls me back, moving me out of the way and slaying the orc.

I gawk at Aragorn, who, with the focused eyes of battle, rips his sword free of the orc’s neck and spins, killing a beast to his right.

“I had it,” I shout over the noise, unable to contain my frustration.

Aragorn straightens to face me, eyes wide. “Your back!”

Immediately, I turn on my heel and raise my dagger, pushing against the knife meant to impale my unguarded back. The orc is stronger than me, but if I can hold him off for just a few seconds more, I can reach for my other dagger and stab him in the stomach. As my hand twitches towards my belt, a sword passes around my side, impaling the orc with a sickening squelch.

Once again, I fix Aragorn with disbelieving eyes.

What was the point of investing all that time training me if I don’t get to use any of said training?!

The sounds of battle begin to fade, and, with a final swing of Gimili’s axe, the fighting is done.

We take stock of our injuries which are, thankfully, minor, and pull the dead orc deep into the tree line, not wanting to draw attention to our path. After the quickest of rests and a wash-up in the stream, we continue, Aragorn insisting that we cannot take any unnecessary delays now that we have orc interested in us.

We begin our trek, mostly in tired silence.

At the front of the group, Aragorn and Legolas do a mixture of scouting and chatting, seeming more relaxed the farther we get from the site of the attack. Aragorn doesn’t usually walk with me, preferring instead to lead with Legolas and keep an eye out for danger. Usually, I wish he would stay by my side, but today, I am grateful for the distance, as I’m not feeling too kindly towards him at the moment. I can’t stop myself from glaring at his back, resenting him taking away my right to handle myself in battle. But after an hour of lonely overthinking, resentment gives way to insecurity. What if he only jumped in because he thinks I’m weak? He’s probably not the only one…compared to everyone else, what advantages do I have? They probably all, to some extent, see me as a burden.

Gimli jogs up next to me, fixing me with a mildly concerned look.

“You alright, lassie? Not hurt, are ya?”

Aragorn’s head tilts in our direction. He’s listening.

Unable to contain my annoyance at his continued monitoring, I huff. “I’m fine, Gimli, thanks. Just tired.”

Gimli looks at the ground, seemingly unable to reconcile my usual friendliness with this foul mood. “Aye, well, t’is to be expected, after the morning we had. You fought well.”

I cross my arms, cocking my head to the side. “Did I? Because, as I remember it, I was barely allowed to fight at all.”

At this, I hear light sniggering behind me, and whip my head around to see a quickly composed Merry and Pippin looking anywhere but me.

Gimli makes a sighing, almost grumbling noise, and walks off to join his friends at the front of the group. Aragorn hangs back a little, waiting for me to catch up before resuming a slower pace.

“What troubles you?”

Getting right to the chase, then.

I huff angrily, my annoyance from this morning only growing now that I’ve had hours to stew about it. Because really, I am well-trained, I am capable, and he had no business neglecting his own safety to help me when I wasn’t in any actual danger. I had it all under control! And rather than feeling like a warrior equal with my companions, I feel like a girl who just slows them down and needs babysitting.

Aragorn stops walking and grips my elbow lightly, pulling me to stop with him. “I cannot help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

I glare at him. Can I handle nothing on my own?! “Well, maybe I don’t want your help, Aragorn.”

He sighs, sounding frustrated, but lets me go.

Neither of us makes an attempt to talk to the other for the remainder of our hike.

{***}

We stop when it is well and properly dark, making hasty camp. I drop my bedroll and begin preparing for the night, cleaning my dagger and shoes as best I can. The others sit on rocks near the fire, eyeing me warily.

Pippin elbows Merry and hisses in a low voice,“go and talk to her, something’s obviously wrong with her.”

Merry’s eyes grow comically wide, and he fixes his friend with an indignant expression. “Why does it have to be me, then?! I don’t want to get yelled at.”

“Because I checked on Frodo last Thursday when he was in a mood, and now it’s your turn.”

“I didn’t realize we were taking turns,” Merry whisper-shouts, oblivious to the fact that everyone can hear their argument just fine.

Sam fixes them with a pleading look before glancing over to me. “Miss Y/n, do you not want supper?” He hesitantly holds a bowl in my general direction.

“No, thank you,” I respond, cooler than intended. He blinks at me for a moment, and then hands the bowl to an amused Boromir.

I feel the weight of everyone’s questioning stares, hear their hushed whispers, and cannot take it one moment longer.

“I’m going to get more firewood,” I declare, tucking my dagger back into my belt and trudging deeper into the forest.

The woods are dark, but there is sufficient light from the moon, and I pick my way through the trees, looking for fallen logs and branches. I don’t stray to where I can no longer hear the voices of my friends, though — I may be angry, but I’m not stupid.

Less than two minutes later, the sound of light footsteps creeps into my hearing.

Aragorn walks to my side, bending to grasp and examine a log that might make for good firewood. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks. “Sam put aside some soup for you, though I would not delay if you wish to eat it. I saw Pippin eyeing it with interest.”

When I don’t laugh or give any indication that I heard him, he shifts on his feet, unsure. “I feel tension between us. I’ve upset you?”

I make a noncommittal noise and go a few yards deeper in the forest.

“Y/n?”

With a resigned sigh, I turn to face him, knowing that my silence is hurting him. “It’s stupid.”

Obviously pleased that I’m speaking to him now, Aragorn takes quick steps towards me, wearing an open expression. “If I have done something to hurt you, you have every right to be upset.”

I resist the urge to groan. Stop being so good and noble, it makes it hard to stay mad at you. I reign in my frustrations and sigh, forcing myself to look him in the eyes. “I feel like the weakest link. I’m the youngest, the only woman, I don’t possess any special abilities or extensive battle experience. I put a lot of work into being competent with my daggers, and still there are days when I question my right to be here with you all. So when you jump in to protect me, well-intentioned as you may be, I feel like a child that needs looking after rather than someone capable of standing her own ground.”

His face falls, and discomfort spreads in my stomach. But before I can apologize and take back my words, he offers his hands, and I take them gratefully.

“I did not consider how my actions would make you feel, though I understand now. Forgive me, Y/n?”

At his heartfelt words, my anger ebbs away. I use my grip on his hands to pull him closer and rest my forehead against his chest. “Of course.”

He pulls back slightly to bring my hands to his lips, pressing kisses on my knuckles. “I intervened during the fight not because I think you incapable, but because I wanted to keep you as much removed from the danger as possible. You are precious to me, Y/n. I won’t risk losing you.”

At this, he leans his forehead against mine, and I can’t help how I soften at his words. I didn’t think about it like that. “There is the slightest possibility that I may have accidentally overreacted a little.”

Aragorn rewards me with a deep chuckle, one I can feel vibrating through his chest, and shakes his head against mine. “Are you sure, my love? I think ignoring me all day was a completely proportionate response.”

I roll my eyes at the dripping sarcasm in his voice and raise a hand to smack his chest. Before I can get anywhere near him, his own hand shoots out and grabs my wrist — an act that has me grumbling in irritation and him shaking with laughter. Once he regains composure, he brings my wrist to his lips and places the softest of kisses there, watching my face carefully for my reaction.

I look away, trying to distract myself from the fluttering in my stomach. He trails a line of kisses up my forearm, and I scramble for something to say before my brain gets scattered beyond help. “For the record, you mean the world to me and I would defend you in battle too, if the need were to arise.”

His lips pause against my skin. I turn my head back to him to see that he’s, much to my annoyance, trying to fight a smile. Unable to school his smirk, he raises his head, still holding my hand in his. “I thank you, dearest, but I hardly believe that will be necessary. I’ve been battling for decades, I can handle a few stray orc.”

I step back out of his embrace, crossing my arms and regarding him with raised eyebrows.

He realizes his mistake.

“Oh—um, I meant, I—”

I shake my head. “No, you know what? Not ‘should the need arise’, I’ll just do it anyway! Next fight, you better watch out buddy, I’m throwing myself in front of anything that comes at you!”

His eyes blow open and his voice takes on a strangled quality. “Y/n, please don’t, that’s just unnecessary—”

“Nope!” I stomp away from him, picking up branches at random. “You brought this upon yourself. Get ready to be defended!”

Before walking back to camp, I turn to give him a sickeningly sweet smile. “I love you.”

Aragorn dramatically drops his head into his hands. “I shall die from stress.”

Our companions, who obviously heard our argument, roar with laughter.

A/n Thank you for reading! If you have a moment, I’d love it if you could check out my masterlist! Thank you :)

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gamergirlshelby · 3 years

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I know I said I was gonna wait to post anything other than my bigger WIP but I really wanted to rework my villain oc before the trend died down.

So meet Dr Kowai Crow (Note: She is not a doctor)

Some notes about her and her quirk under the read more

Kowai's name translates to Scare, making her name fully in English Dr Scare Crow (I used a translation app so it might not be super accurate)

Kowai is half American half Japanese, and was actually born in America. She snuck onto a plane going to Japan.

How Kowai's quirk works is that she converts Oxygen that she is ingested (would that be the term?) and turn it into a smog that, if ingested will make the target hallucinate their greatest fear. Think Scarecrow's fear toxin from the Batman comics, but she makes it herself.

Kowai is able to use oxygen from her blood to excrete the smog from all over her body.

Because Kowai uses oxygen that she ingested she has a hard time breathing so she needs some sort of way to get more oxygen.

She has a special back pack that she uses to help her breathe, as well as create more smog.

She does not act her age, still acting like a 16 year old when she is now 33.

Very hyperactive, having a hard time sitting still, and does not stop talking EVER.

She often lies to make others feel worse, for example saying "Wow you don't have a dad? HA That's crazy cause I have THREE!!"

Kowai also builds most of her support items herself, but is only really book smart, not being very clever when it comes to forward thinking, relying on her opponents' fears.

Kowai is very good at using small and sharp objects as weapons, often using them to cause lethal blows.

She cut off her own hands so she could have an easy way to create her smog, expelling it from her palms.

When Kowai has her quirk enhanced, whether it be by someone else's quirk, or a quirk enhancing drug, when someone inhales Kowai's smog there fears will become physically tangible, being able to make physical contact with the outside world. You're afraid of some sort of animal or bug? Well that animal or bug is now right in front of you three times your size and sees you as an enemy. You're afraid of something less physically tangible like the dark or heights? Well if you're scared of the dark your vision will be covered in darkness. You won't be blind, it'd be more like your outside late at night and there are no lights around. If your scared of heights, the ground will you're standing on will likely get shot up into the air with no way for you to get down.

The only way for the hallucinations, whether they are tangible or not, to go away is for either the smog to get out of your system, either by the smog dissipating or having the smog get physically taken out. There is also the worst case scenario where you die to your greatest fear, having the hallucination disappear once you have died.

Unfortunately, this is how Tokiya's dad, Tokisue, had died, being consumed by his biggest fear of not being able to make it home to his family, dying right after Kowai was detained.

Now Kowai was brought to Tartarus, the high security prison in the My Hero universe, getting her specially built equipment taken away and replaced with ones that she won't be able to use to kill people. The things that where replaced where her prosthetics and her breathing pack (I didn't know how to properly draw it in the picture of Kowai in the prison uniform, but she has a standard issue hospital breathing pack.)

She is also required to take quirk suppressing drugs to make sure she doesn't make the people watching her go insane with her quirk.

Also she just doesn't get knives or forks with her food to make sure she doesn't stab anybody.

She's been locked up for about 15 years now, but hey, maybe she'll break out somehow (I really want to write a prison break since that sounds super fun, and it will allow her to actually interact with the other villains that people have come up with.)

And no, I do not think anyone can help her become less crazy, no matter how many self insert fan fics I see. This is not a challenge, you can not fix her.

#bnha oc comeback #dr kowai crow // the mad doctor #skiduffle #i want it to be known if i see any simps for kowai i will combust /j #but i know its inevitable because people really like to simp for crazy people #(including some people in the comeback /lh)#but yeah i might redo the comic or writing or whatever about tokisues death but im not really in a rush to

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thelastspeecher · 4 years

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Stanuary ‘21 - Week Two: Sacrifice

I haven’t actually posted any writes here on tumblr with my Fashion AU, and I don’t think I’ve even really talked about it much. So, why not use that AU for Stanuary?

What you need to know for this AU: Stan and Ford go to art school together (Stan for drawing - he wants to work on Lil Stanley, Ford for fashion), it’s a modern AU (aka they are born much later, becoming adults post-2000), Ford starts his own fashion brand, and Stan...well, you’ll see what Stan decides to do.

Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

“Son of a-” Ford muttered. Stan looked up from his sketches. They were both working on their school projects, though for once, Ford was swearing under his breath more than Stan.

He’s still pretty new to sewing, that’s all. While Ford excelled at designing clothing, he struggled with actually creating it. As Stan watched, Ford accidentally stuck himself with a needle again.

“Fucking-” Ford trailed off, mumbling darkly.

“You all right there, Sixer?” Stan asked. Ford looked up. “You keep swearing.”

“Did I offend you?” Ford asked snidely. Stan snickered.

“Not even close.”

“Well…” Ford set the fabric on his lap with a sigh. “I didn’t realize that going into fashion would entail making the clothing I designed. If I’d known-”

“You woulda chose a different major?”

“No. But I would have asked for sewing lessons from Mom.”

“You’re in luck.” Stan got up from his desk. He walked over to Ford’s bed and sat next to his twin. “Mom got sick of patching up my clothes all the time when we were kids, so she showed me how. Hand it over.”

“You have your own work to do,” Ford protested. Stan took the fabric from Ford. “Your studies shouldn’t suffer just because I can’t sew!”

“Eh, I’m pretty much done with Lil Stanley for the day,” Stan said, shrugging. “Gimme that.” He took Ford’s needle. Ford grumbled wordlessly, but wisely didn’t continue to protest. “Anyways, here’s how you sew without sticking yourself every second.”

-----

Stan stared blankly at the worksheet before him.

Why the hell do I have to take a physics class? I’m here to work on my comic book. I don’t need physics for that! After a few more moments of trying to make sense of his worksheet, Stan gave up. With a sigh, he turned to face Ford, deciding to finally ask for some help. If I fail outta this class, I’ll have to take it again and miss my chance for Advanced Character Design next semester.

“Hey, Ford?” Stan asked. Ford, who was once again sitting on his bed sewing, grunted wordlessly. “You know physics, right?”

“Yes,” Ford mumbled.

“I’m stuck on my homework, think you could-”

“Normally, I’d be thrilled to help you,” Ford said, “but I’m kind of in the middle of something, Stanley.” Ford huffed impatiently. “The last few times I’ve finished my design prototypes, they look all right on the hanger, but terrible on an actual model.”

“Why don’t you put them on, then?” Stan suggested. “The person who was in this room before us left that full-length mirror. You can look at yourself in that.”

“That might work, but it would be exceedingly slow,” Ford said. “I’d have to make marks, then take off the clothes to make adjustments, then put them on again, then make more marks, then-”

“I get it,” Stan said, stopping Ford’s rambling. “You can’t mess with it properly if you’re the one modeling it.” He frowned. “What about getting a mannequin?”

“I don’t have the money for that!”

“Doesn’t the fashion department have some?”

“Yes, but I can’t take it home with me!”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Stan said. He leaned in. “Want me to…liberate one for you?” Ford glared at him. “No stealing. Got it.” Stan glanced at his physics worksheet again.

Honestly, being poked by needles is more of a good time than working on that bullshit. Stan looked back at Ford.

“I’ll model your clothes.”

“Really?” Ford asked, his eyes wide. Stan shrugged.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Well, you have your own schoolwork to do…”

“I can do it after.”

“But I don’t know how long it will take for me to finish adjustments-”

“It’s not like I’d be able to get much done without your help, anyways,” Stan said dismissively. Ford chewed on his lip. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Ford.” Stan got up and took the clothes from his twin. He removed his shirt and slipped on the top Ford had been working on. “Let’s be real, I was made to be a model anyways.” Ford smiled faintly. “Hand me the pants.”

-----

Stan threw open the door to the dorm room he shared with Ford.

“Guess who just got Lil Stanley in the school paper?” he crowed. Ford, once again sitting on his bed attempting to sew, looked up.

“Hmm…” he said, feigning thoughtfulness.

“And don’t say that chick friend of yours who hates my guts,” Stan said. Ford snickered. “I’ve seen her sketch. She can’t draw for shit.”

“Congratulations, Stanley,” Ford said. Stan preened. “With all of your hard work, it’s definitely well-deserved.”

“Yeah, my adviser says that if I keep working on it, I might be able to make Lil Stanley big.”

“If you did that, it wouldn’t be ‘lil’ any more though, would it?” Ford asked. Stan laughed. “Seriously, I’m very happy for you. I know that you never intended to attend a ‘fancy art school’ with me.”

“Yeah.” Stan sat next to Ford. “But I like it.” He eyed Ford’s latest project. “How’s your clothes stuff coming along?” Ford sighed heavily. “Not well, I’m guessing. Want me to try it on so you can make adjustments?”

“I greatly appreciate the offer, but, no, my problem is different. The person who was going to model this for my final got sick. Now, I have to scramble to find someone.”

“Doesn’t the fashion department have a warehouse of students to model?” Stan asked. Ford frowned at him in confusion. “I think the warehouse has some weird name, like, Theater Department or something like that.” Stan elbowed Ford playfully. Ford rolled his eyes. “Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re right, many of our models are theater students.”

“Makes sense. They like wearing weird clothes and being the center of attention.”

“Stan…” Ford shook his head, trying to hide his chuckle. “Unfortunately, it’s finals for the theater students as well. None of them have the time to model for me.”

“I’m not a theater student,” Stan said. Ford looked at him. “I can model for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I do it all the time so you can make adjustments on your stuff.” Stan shrugged. “It’s not like I’m walking down the catwalk at New York Fashion Week or whatever.”

“Don’t you have finals?”

“None of ‘em are tests. They’re all projects.”

“Have you finished your projects?” Ford prodded.

“Pretty much.”

“Stanley…”

“What did I tell you about looking a gift horse in the mouth, Sixer?”

“…Don’t do it?”

“Exactly!” Stan flicked the fabric that Ford was still holding. “Make this fit me, and I’ll walk the runway.”

-----

There was a ping from Stan’s computer. He minimized Photoshop and pulled up his email. His mouth went dry. It was a message from a publisher.

Don’t get your hopes up, Stan. You’ve only been getting rejections, this is probably just another one. Holding his breath, he opened the email. His jaw dropped.

“We’re pleased to inform you…”

“Holy shit!” Stan shouted. He punched the air triumphantly. “I did it! I fucking did it! I-” A door slammed somewhere in the apartment, closely followed by heavy stomps.

That can’t be good. With a sigh, Stan got up from his desk. He exited his bedroom, walked down the hall, and entered the living room. Ford had thrown himself onto the couch face-down. Sometimes I hate being right.

“What’s wrong?” Stan asked. Ford lifted his head.

“You recall that I have my first show tonight, right?” he said. Stan nodded. “Angie’s still on board to model the women’s line, but my male model…”

“Let me guess. He fell through.”

“He went to a competitor who could afford to pay him more.”

“Ah.” Stan walked over to the couch. “Scooch.” Ford obediently sat up and moved. Stan sat next to him. “Remember what I did for you while we were still in school? Before you managed to start your own fashion brand?” Ford frowned at him. “C’mon, Sixer, did you really forget?”

“Are you…referring to how you modeled my clothing for my classes?”

“Yep.”

“You’re offering to model for me in an actual show?!” Ford asked, aghast. Stan crossed his arms.

“You don’t think I’ve got what it takes?”

“No, not- I just- you don’t actually have any training on modeling!”

“I’ll get Angie to show me.”

“She despises you.”

“Yeah, but you’re like, her best friend. She’ll show me how to model if it’s for you,” Stan pointed out. Ford put his head in his hands. “You can’t let this chance pass you by, Ford! This is your first show, it needs to go off without a hitch!”

“Yes, but-”

“No buts. I’ll call up Angie, you work on altering those clothes of yours,” Stan said firmly. Ford sighed. He looked at Stan.

“She won’t pick up if you call.”

“I’ll call from your phone,” Stan said, already grabbing Ford’s phone from the nearby end table.

“Don’t spill anything on it or drop it this time, okay?”

“You got it.” Stan got up. Before he had left the living room, Ford spoke.

“Stanley?”

“Yeah?”

“…Thank you,” Ford said softly. “I think you’re right. This- this really is the only way for my show to not end in disaster.”

“Of course I’m right!” Stan said dismissively. He threw a grin over his shoulder. “And it’s not a problem. Not like I’ve got anything better to do.” Stan headed for his bedroom. Just as he pulled up Angie’s number to call her, his computer chimed again. He sat down at his desk and checked his email.

“Mr. Pines, please respond promptly so that we can set up a meeting for tonight to discuss publishing your comic. Unfortunately, if you are unable to speak tonight, we will have to pass on you as a comic creator with our company.” Stan’s heart sunk.

“Really?” he whispered, staring at the email. “That’s bullshit.” Ford’s phone in his hand buzzed. He glanced at it. Ford had received a text from Angie, asking if he had figured out the male model problem. Stan looked at the email again. He swallowed.

If this is how they do business, it’s probably a scam anyways. Stan tried to push away the fact that he had sent Lil Stanley to that company because one of his professors recommended them. Yeah. Just a scam. Gotta be. Ford’s phone buzzed again, this time with a call from Angie, rather than a text. Stan picked up.

“Ford figured out the model situation,” he said into the phone. “I’ll be stepping in. So, what kinda tips do you got for me?”

-----

Stan tromped into his bedroom, still wearing the makeup from the show. He threw himself onto his bed with a loud groan.

Hours later, Stan was woken from his unplanned nap by Ford poking his head into the room.

“Stanley?” Ford asked. Stan sat up.

“You finally got home, huh?”

“Yes. Sorry, I had to-”

“Schmooze, I know,” Stan said, waving a hand. He yawned and stretched. “No worries, Sixer. I get it.”

“This time, I didn’t have to approach anyone!” Ford said excitedly. “People wanted to talk to me!”

“Hey, you’re making a name for yourself! It’s about time people picked up on your genius. How many shows has it been now?”

“Too many,” Ford said with a chuckle. Stan grinned.

“That’s great, Ford. Really. But, uh, I did all the work at the show, so I’m pretty beat…”

“You want to go to bed. I’ll leave. We can talk in the morning,” Ford said, bobbing his head. He paused. “Don’t forget to wipe off your makeup before going to sleep. It’s not good for your skin if you leave it on.”

“I know, I know. This wasn’t my first rodeo.”

“Yes. Correct. Well…good night.”

“Good night,” Stan said. Ford smiled again, then left, closing Stan’s door quietly behind him. Stan got up, stretching again. His computer dinged. “What now?” Stan trudged over to his computer and sat down. He pulled up his email. His eyes widened.

“We greatly enjoyed the materials that you sent us and would like to publish Lil Stanley as a weekly strip in our paper. Please respond if you are still interested in working with us.” Stan grinned.

Only weekly? Perfect. That sounds like the kinda commitment that I can still do modeling with.

He began to draft a response.

After all, who knows what would happen to Ford if I wasn’t there for him?

#Stanuary #Fashion AU #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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tim-burton-bitch · 4 years

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Tw: pre-romantic prinxiety, breakdowns, crying, semi-shitty writing, I think cursing this has been sitting in google for a while I wrote this back in like early November at 3 am let me know if there's any others oh and FWSA spoilers

This was written at like 3am and follows a headcanon of Roman having synesthesia in which he paints and describes sounds as imagery and an idea from a comic (unsure who wrote it) where Janus never actually told the dark sides his name this is hurt/comfort right after SvS Redux this also follows the fact Virgil is CENTER BRAIN FIGHT OR FLIGHT IS THE AMYGDALA GUYS CAN SOMEONE ELSE PLEASE DO CENTER BRAIN VIRGIL CONTENT I'M STARVED OF IT anyways and my headcanon that he is also in charge of things that either trigger anxiety or are triggered by anxiety such as depression and neuro-diversity my take on the purple eyeshadow and semi-soft side of Virgil my second oneshot takes place in this same timeline and can be found here

Word count: 2,485 words

Virgil was in his room listening to his music. He had his sketchbook across his lap, his art case was open beside him. Currently he was half way through Soft Shock. He wasn't particularly listening, it was more for background noise than anything. He was humming along absent mindedly drawing as his mind wandered.

Suddenly he snapped back to reality as he felt the bed beneath him sink down with sudden weight. He looked up startled instinctively covering his art, which he now realized was a profile of Roman. He looked to see said prince he had just been drawing in front of him. Roman was looking down at his hands. It was quiet for a moment, Virgil was just about to ask what the hell Roman was doing there when the Prince began to shake. Virgil was speechless as the small shakes quickly turned into jerky sobs. Virgil stared at Roman for a second before closing his sketchpad and reaching a hand towards to crying prince.

"Princey, hey Princey what's... what's wrong?" Virgil didn't understand. He had chosen to stay in his room and calm down instead of taking part in the video. The wedding hadn't gone well and Thomas wasn't the only one thoroughly upset about it. Virgil hadn't thought anything of his decision figuring Thomas could vent about it all on his own to the others. The anxious side needed some down time to calm both his and Thomas' nerves. Now. He was beginning to question the decision.

At first Roman gave no response. He just continued to shake letting tears slip out. Virgil's hand never moved from his shoulder. Being the side in charge of Thomas' amygdala meant he knew how sometimes you just needed to cry a moment with company. With no judgment, no constant pushing to know what's wrong. Just a shoulder to cry on as you gather your thoughts.

Roman looked up. His eyes met Virgil's and he took a shaky breath. "I-" He felt another wave of tears hit him. He paused trying not to cry anymore than he already had. He felt embarrassed. He had meant to come here and invite Virgil to another Disney marathon. Take his mind off of what had happened. Instead he broke down. An how was that fair on Virgil?

"Shhh it's ok take your time. There's no rush to tell me what happened. If you don't want to tell me that's fine too. Sometimes you just nee company, a shoulder to cry on. Believe me I understand. Tell me when you're ready and only if you want okay?" Virgil's voice was soft and understanding. And yet. He didn't sound condescending in the slightest. Roman had never heard Virgil use this tone of voice. It was calming. He felt.... safe and... listened to. He nodded his head realizing Virgil was still waiting for a response of some kind. Virgil gave him his small sweet smile that never failed to melt Roman's heart.

Roman took a deep breath before saying, "I-I do wanna tell you Virge... I do. I just..." He swallowed back another lump of emotion. He couldn't even explain the problem. What was WRONG with him? And yet, despite Roman never finding the words to explain... Virgil's eyes were understanding. Soft and warm, looking at Roman so invitingly. Roman hesitated before leaning in and clinging onto the anxious side in front of him and sobbing. Virgil was startled and Roman clung to his body. He was used to being the one breaking down and he wasn't sure how he could help much. Then again, he WAS the one to break down usually. What helped him? Or what did he wish people would do to help?

Virgil slowly wrapped his arms around Roman's head. Pulling him down into his lap. Letting the fanciful side bury his face into Virgil's shoulder. He softly began to run a hand through Roman's hair, hoping this didn't upset the prince more. He began quietly calming the man in his arms whispering into his ear that he was here. And he wasn't going anywhere, no matter what happened he was there as Roman needed him.

Roman pulled back swiping at his eyes sniffling quietly. He looked down at his lap sniffling once more before murmuring "I-I'm sorry." Despite having pulled back he was still directly in front of Virgil, who was still leaning against the headboard now giving him a questioning look. "For... for this. For... whatever THIS is...." Roman trailed off looking back down at his shaking hands. "It's- it's stupid... I don't know why I'm crying really, I-" he trailed off again.

Virgil leaned forward placing his hands over Roman's to calm him. "Roman it isn't stupid. Whatever this is about clearly bothered you a lot and your feelings are entirely valid no maatter-”

"NO! Virgil it isn't fair on you I'm just bothering you with my problems and you had nothing to do with any of what happened. It isn't fair on you for me to drag you into my problems!" Roman cut Virgil off tears beginning to well up in his eyes again. Virgil stared at him. He was stunned and the look on Roman's face hurt Virgil's heart more than anything ever had.

Virgil sat up properly, taking his hands back to do so. He brought one hand back forward to grab one of Roman's the other reaching out and cupping the prince's face. "Hey, shhh.... it's okay, I promise," Virgil's whisper was soft and comforting as he slowly wiped away a few more stray tears from Roman's face. His other hand rubbing circles comfortingly on the back of Roman's, "Roman whatever bothered you really is valid. And I'm not upset you came here. In fact it's the opposite. I'm glad you trust me enough to come to me with this." He paused, "Roman. You can come to me whenever you need to, whenever you feel like this. I'll listen when you need to vent and I'll be here when you break down. I am HAPPY to help you in anyway I can so please, PLEASE don't invalidate your feelings or think in anyway this inconveniences me. Or bothers me or anything, okay? Can you promise me that?"

Roman was quiet, he stared into VIrgil's dark warm welcoming orbs. Slowly he nodded. Virgil smiled, "So, did you want to tell me what happened or just sit and watch something or whatever?"

Roman laughed, his heart was still heavy and felt weighted down but he couldn't help it. The laughter was short lived though, he let out a sigh as he rubbed a hand down the side of his face. Taking a deep breath in he turned to Virgil and asked, "Do you think lying has it's place?"

Virgil looked at him questioningly as he shifted suddenly a tad uncomfortable. "Well..." he started. Thinking on his answer. He hummed thoughtfully, "Is this about lying as a concept or about Deciet?" he asked suddenly.

Roman looked down and sighed again, "Both I guess...." he turned towards Virgil, "Janus stopped by today during the video. And things got a little complicated, and now I'm confused and don't know what is right or wrong. Everything is upside down and Patton Logan and Thomas are agreeing with Janus and- a-a-and I feel... useless. And I don't know...." He sighed tears streaking down his face again, "I was meant to be Thomas' hero. But lately... I feel more and more like I'm steering him wrong. I-"

Virgil cut Roman off suddenly, "Okay great that we're making headway and all, but... I'm going to have to ask you to backtrack a second before we dive into the angst." Roman looked puzzlingly at Virgil who was quiet a second before asking, "Er... Who- who's Janus?"

Roman stared at VIrgil unsure if he was joking. But Virgil's face was purely confused, his head cocked to the side just slightly, eyebrows knit together one slightly raised his left eye the slightest bit closed and a small pout on his lips. Roman's heart stuttered as he continued to stare at Virgil in astonishment. "Has... has Deceit never told you his name is Janus?"

It was Virgil's turn to stare at Roman, "No???? He hasn't???"

Roman laughed, "I could HEAR the multiple question marks in your voice! Oh my God!" Virgil continued to stare before bursting into a fit of laughter himself.

Tears formed in Virgil's eyes as the shadows beneath his eyes became a brilliant purple. He brought his hand up to rub the mirth from his eyes. "Oh my God! I mean we ARE gay!" he laughed. His laughter cut short when he noticed Roman was staring at him.

Suddenly realizing he didn't have his usual foundation and concealer on with his black eyeshadow to cover those awful freakish markings beneath his eyes he quickly stopped laughing. Romans eyes were still on him and Virgil began to panic.

While Virgil had this realization Roman was having two entirely different realizations. One being that he never heard Virgil TRULY laugh before. He had yet to even fully redgistered the purple shadow that was suddenly black again, far to caught up in the sound of Virgil's laughter ringing in his ears. God, he could listen to that sound until he died and never grow annoyed of it.

"Virgil- You- your laugh! I've never heard it before! I mean I've heard you chuckle and snort sometimes but... WOW...." Virgil stared at the man in front of him. The tone used by the fanciful side before him describing his laugh made his heart skip a beat. He could feel the shadow beneath his eyes going purple and his face going pink.

"I- I guess... I don't know... it's not like it's anything special.... kinda... loud and annoyin really..."

"NONSENSE!! Virgil your laugh! I- I don't even know how to describe it! It's like... like the sound of waves crashing against the cliffside, with the wistling of wind as you walk along a cliff overlooking the sea, JUST before a storm, that breathtaking sound which breaks the ear clogging silence caused by the overhanging clouds. And yet, it IS the ear clogging silence that you enjoy with the sound of the crashing waves and wistling wind." As the words flew from Roman's mouth Virgil's blush deepend his shadow growing all the more purple. Until it was so vibrant there was no missing it even in the darkly lit room. "Virgil... your eyeshadow. Wasn't it black when I came in? Surely I would have noticed by now if it was such a wonderous purple as what lies beneath your eyes now," Roman's calling attention to the shadow caused Virgil to panic once again and the shadow to go a deep black, confusing Roman all the more. "Virgil what? How?"

"I- well- um..." Virgil's voice was small as his heart rate increased.

"Virgil it's okay, you can tell me whatever it is. I promise!"

Virgil took a deep breath turning away and hiding in his hoodie pulling up the hood. He glanced to Roman's awaiting confused face hands fidgeting with the hoodie's strings, "I-" he sighed, "The shadows under my eyes aren't eyeshadow... at least, not right now. They're a part of me, and tied to my emotions they go purple when I'm happy... the happier I am the more vibrant the purple.... When I'm anxious start panicking over overthinking something... they go black, the more panicked I get... the darker they are." Virgil nervously glanced up at Roman who looked shocked. "Normally... I but on foundation and concealer to hide them, and then some black eyeshadow so if I forget to put makeup on or can't be bothered or someone comes across me when I don't expect someone to... they won't question why I suddenly have 'eyeshadow' beneath my eyes. I don't worry about it going purple because honestly... I never expect to be happy. I know it's- it's weird and I'm a fre-"

"VIRGIL THAT'S AMAZING!"

"Wha-"

"I mean not the part that you don't expect to be happy because that's just.... NO! But the rest of it? It's amaing! I love it! Not only does it look cool (in both black and purple) but then I can tell when you're truly really happy! And when you need a good Disneython! I'm assuming that when you're more happy than paniced it's still purple and wheen you're more panicked than happy black?" Virgil nodded. "And what about other emotions? Is it black or purple then?"

Virgil smiled, he always thought they wer freakish that the shadows were just more reminders that he was a freak, but Roman... Roman LIKED them. Virgil couldn't understand why he did, they were weird, but the way Roman's eyes lit with excitment, so starkly different from the dampened ocean filled eyes he had arrived with. "They tend to then settle for whatever I feel closer to then."

"Well I don't see why you cover them up, I love them. I think you should go out without makeup more often," Roman smiled at Virgil before letting out a laugh. "I just remembered I was going to tell you what happened with the video! But I think it can wait till later I wanna try to keep that purple there as long as possible! How does a nice Disneython in my room sound?"

Virgil grinned back at Roman, "That sounds great. And maybe... maybe I will! Go out without makeup that is." Roman laughed, "Oh and... thank you, Roman. For... making me feel less alone, and less like a freak." Virgil gave Roman a small sweet smile before standing and heading to the door. "BET I CAN BEAT YOU TO YOUR RO-" Virgil paused his shouting as he flung open the door and almost ran into Patton.

"WOAH!" Patton cried out, "Slow down there kiddo! Have you seen Roman? He left the video upset and I've been looking for him since and it's been- oh... hey Roman! Are you..."

"Yeah I'm fine Patton," Roman said from behind Virgil with a small smile of his own, "Thanks to Virgil here!"

"Well I'm glad though I wouldn't mind talking to you and apologi-"

"Maybe later? Patton? Virgil and I were about to go have another Disney marathon in my room!"

"Alright kiddos you two have a PatTON of fun then! Would you like me to bring food up to you or will you two be down for dinner?"

"We'll see Popstar, text you the answer later?" Virgil asked grinning feeling the shadow which had gone black when Patton startled him slowly but surely fading to a purple.

"Alright kiddos as long as you two actually eat this time! And not just popcorn!"

"Alright Patton! See you later!" And Roman and Virgil walked away heading to the prince's Disney covered room laughing and teasing the whole way.

Tag list:

@on-fic-writing-spree

#prinxiety #tss virgil #tss roman #tss patton #sander sides virgil #sander sides roman #sander sides patton #ts virgil #ts roman #ts patton #sander sides #my writing #my oneshot

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anastasiabeaverhousen87 · 4 years

Text

Make Wise Choices Part 3

Doctor Sharpe

You can feel yourself being held by strong arms and your face being placed in an odd angle. Someone is touching your mouth and your cheeks. You can feel liquid filling your mouth, no not liquid blood and tugging inside your cheeks. A few moments later you begin to hear voices, several voices in fact. You can recognize your sister’s voices and Lena’s but there is one you most definitely do not know who it belongs to. Its quite soothing though and because you don’t feel pain, you take that as a major win for now. Then you seem to notice the tugging and hands on your face continue to prod and touch inside your mouth and now you are intrigued to know what’s is going on.

You try to open your eyes but there’s a bright light directly assaulting your eyes, you first instinct is to hiss and close your eyes again but you find impossible to move your jaw to perform such action and in response the person manhandling your mouth tenses their hold to make sure you don’t move your jaw and the pressure grows stronger this time. The hands touching your jaw are strong and cool soft. You don’t feel scare and you wonder who the person might be.

By now everyone in your proximity notice you began to regain consciousness and now the voices are directed at you.

Alex: “Hold still little one, Doctor Sharpe is here, and she needs to look at your incisions and assess the damage. Please don’t be scare its just us and Doctor Sharpe” says in a very calm and reassuring voice.

Doctor Sharpe? You mentally ask yourself; you don’t know anyone named Sharpe and you know your dentist name is Richards.

Kara: “Shhh little one, we got you. Doctor Sharpe is a friend of Lena and she was super nice to come here and check on you. She is a dentist by the way, so don’t think we would just let anyone just prod and touch your mouth. Lena called her once you passed out, we were worry for you and I mean is not like I don’t appreciate your being here Dr. Sharpe but…”

Lena: “Kara, Love please calm down. Take a deep breath, you are rambling, and you are going to make y/n nervous” -Lena puts a reassuring hand on Kara’s shoulder and that makes the blonde stop and relax.

Kara: “sorry…”

You open your eyes once again, this time you are prepared for the assault of bright light and squint your eyes and can barely distinguish 3 figures standing in front of you, one of them holding your face.

Alex rolls her eyes at her sister “Kara tends to ramble a lot when she is anxious, but honestly thank you for coming so quickly to check on our sister. We really appreciate it” – Alex says with a small but grateful smile aimed to the doctor.

Dr Sharpe: “don’t be, it’s fine” the mysterious person says chuckling a little at Kara’s fluster rambling. The doctor removes her hands from your face and all of the sudden the blinding light is gone - “Honestly it’s okay, don’t worry, I’m used to worried parents and relatives doting over my patients. Its perfectly normal to worry about your love ones, especially when they are as cute as your sister right here”

Y/N: “Wow that voice. Pretty voice. I like it …Hooot” In your drugged out state of mind you think you’re having an inner monologue but you actually voiced those words out loud and you are thankful for the mouth piece you have stuffed next to your cheek and that the words come up a bit sluggish. Still you know everyone understood because you can hear different kinds of snickering coming from the women in the room.

Y/N: “nghhh…”

Dr. Sharpe: chuckles- “Well thank you honey, that is very sweet of you to say. But please try not to speak or move your jaw just yet”

That voice again, you really like that voice and you are finally able to see her face and the owner of that voice. You are mesmerized by the eyes looking straight at you, like she is looking into your very soul. The most astonishing blue eyes you have ever seen in your life. And that face, blonde soft waves and kind face. And in that moment, you are so grateful for the fever and swollen cheeks, otherwise you would be bright red with embarrassment and wouldn’t be able to hide it.

Lena: “Actually Cassandra is not a dentist, she is actually an amazing Oral & Maxillofacial Surgeon and a good friend of mine” Lena says smiling at the doctor and both your sisters look quite impressed and a bit embarrassed for calling her a dentist without knowing exactly what her expertise or field was.

Dr. Sharpe: blushing a little – “You are very kind Lena. But don’t worry, dentistry specialties are not commonly known. But let’s get back to the most pressing matter at hand” – the woman switches back to her professional persona and imposing presence. “Y/N I need to ask you a few questions, I’m going to hold your hand and please press my hand once for YES and twice for NO, we are going to let the muscles in your mouth rest for a bit. Are you comfortable doing this? – you press her hand once to let her know you are okay with it.

Alex- laughs a little and there’s a smirk on her face – “Oh wow, that’s a great and polite way tell someone to shut it, good one doc. I wish I had used that one sooner on this one” -Alex points at you while Kara and Lena give Alex a disapproval look while you look at the doctor with teary eyes.

Kara: “Alex! don’t mock y/n. she feels bad enough and you are not helping”

Lena: “don’t be mean Alex”

You know its all good and there’s not bite behind the words. You just feel bad because you just remembered why you end up in your current predicament. By being stubborn and a brat. You feel bad for worrying your sisters and Lena and all you want to do is to apologize. But you can’t, because you were told not to speak which makes you tear up in frustration at not being able to communicate properly.

But Alex being the wonderful sister she is, she knows without you being able to say anything she just looks at your eyes and just knows what’s wrong.

Alex: “Kara come on, you know I’m just joking. I could never be mean to her. she is not crying because of that tough.” – Alex comes to sit next to you and holds your other hand – “ y/n don’t cry, I know okay? I know you are sorry, and I know you are just frustrated for not being able to speak at the moment. Please sweetie no, please don’t cry. Just listen to the doctor and we will speak later okay? – you nod at her and she tenderly brushes a few stray tears from your face. She stands to let the doctor continue with her examination.

Meanwhile Doctor Sharpe is looking at the interaction between the women and she smiles at the warm and caring dynamic among you all. She is quite intrigue about how soft Lena is with them and more importantly she was becoming quite smitten by you, you had that power over people. You didn’t have to do much, you y/n Danvers had something that automatically draws people in and your eyes are so expressive and innocent that the good doctor can’t fight the urge to look at them and feel something she wasn’t expecting nor she had felt in a very very long time. She is taken out of her reverie when she hears Alex mentioning the examination she was supposed to be doing right about now.

Dr. Sharpe: “Riiight, yes sorry. Ok so here we go. From what I was told by Lena and your sisters the pain your experienced was bad enough to knock you out. y/n while you were unconscious, I injected you with a very strong pain medication. You should not be able to have much sensation inside your mouth, but let me ask and without traying to move or prod with your tongue, do you feel any sort of pain in your mouth?

You take a moment to take inventory of your current condition and you cannot feel any sort of pain in your mouth nor anything similar to the pain you felt by stumping your foot during your temper tantrum thrown at your big sister. You press her hand twice, saying NO, you don’t feel pain.

Dr. Sharpe: “Good, that’s good. You will experience lack of sensation for a couple of hours. Like I said it’s a strong pain reliever with a numbing agent, I gave you the best drugs available” – she winks at you. “But once that wears off you will feel very uncomfortable for at least the next 48 hours. Basically, strenuous activity can cause pressure to build up and complicate things like heavy bleeding and rupture of your stiches and of course can be extremely painful. Which unfortunately was your case. Because you haven’t developed the blood clot inside the tooth cavity, you are not suffering from what Is called dry socket, and that is not fun let me tell. It’s quite painful.”

Your eyes were comically wide in both surprise and fear.

Dr. Sharpe: “ Ok let me explain that better. Nothing to be scare about. Think about it like a lake. Yes, like a lake or a pond. After a tooth extraction, blood fills the site where the tooth was. Blood is what allows the body to heal. Just like a lake needs to be filled with water, a tooth extraction needs blood to heal. What happens during a dry socket is that the blood washes away and the site dries out too soon. When the blood clot is lost, the site lacks the blood cells and nutrients needed for healing. A dry socket is like a lake in a drought. The lake has dried up.”

You like her voice and how soothing it is. Even tough what she is saying sounds painful and scary. Your sisters and Lena are paying rapt attention to what the blonde doctor is saying.

Dr. Sharpe: “Ok so in your case you were lucky it was just the stitches, but painful, nonetheless. Dry sockets are a very common complication and can cause the healing time to extend. You did cause damage to the tissue surrounding the incision and I was not able to use stitches to close the gap without risking nerve damage. I use aviente, that is a microfibrillar collagen to help you absorb the blood to reduce the bleeding and accelerate the clot formation. I know this is a lot of information and maybe you can feel a little out of sorts due to the pain medication, but I like to explain everything to my patients.”

You could listen to her voice for hours and being explain anything she wanted to you because you liked her voice very much. You were also sporting a goofy smile towards the blue-eyed doctor while your sisters and Lena took into everything the doctor was saying.

The doctor gave you a warm smile and explained more about your condition to your sisters and Lena, making them feel much calmer now that you were okay and being tended by a very competent specialist. After the incident with your childish tantrum you learnt that Alex was about to leave to get your meds when Lena remembered her friend being back in town and she was an expert in all things dental according to Kara’s explanation. She called Cassandra Sharpe right away and her friend was able to drop everything to help her and be there for you because she knew Lena Luthor would never just call and ask for a favor in such urgent way and that only meant that you were someone very important and dear to Lena. You may be high as a kite right now and drooling like a fool, for obvious reasons, now but you certainly weren’t blind to appreciate how beautiful Cassandra Sharpe truly was. You were taken out of your daydreaming once again by the voice you could become addicted very soon.

Dr. Sharpe: “You need to be very careful Y/N, the next 8 to 12 days you need to follow the indications to a T. No hard or crunchy food, no smoking, no alcohol, no caffeine and avoid excessively greasy foods those can irritate and create infections in the tooth cavity. I noticed the drinking bottles Lena got you, those are great, please don’t let her use any kind of straws or bottles that requires suction those are a very hard no, they can easily dislodge the blood clot and that is what we are trying to prevent from happening at all cost. From what I can tell your pain tolerance is almost nonexistent and that would only create a horrible painful experience for you. Taking into consideration what I read and heard from Alex about your medical history, you can have complications due to the poor capacity for your blood to clot. The aid I use is designed to help create the clot but that takes time and you will have literally two open blood oozing wounds inside your mouth. I’m leaving a list and indications of everything you need to know, I’m getting you guys my direct line so if you have any questions or concerns you can call me right away or Lena can get ahold of me. But in the case, she is busy you can easily reach out to me. Y/N You can’t do any kind of exercise, heavy lifting, no strenuous activities even too much walking can be harmful. Try to relax and chill on the couch or your bed for the next 48 hours”

You knew your helicopter sisters and super protective Lena wouldn’t let you lift a finger in the near future. You sighed and nodded to the whole speech. You honestly felt like crap for putting your loved ones in this position, just for being stubborn and you were is no rush to be in that kind of pain again, you were going to avoid it at all cost. Besides you liked to see the bright side of things and meeting the gorgeous blonde doctor was something bright alright. Something about her was drawing you like a mot to a flame.

Alex, Kara and Lena were taking on everything Dr. Sharpe was saying like their lives depended on the words being spoken by the blonde woman.

Alex: “We will make sure she follows all your indications, and if I have any questions, I will call you right away. Thank you so much for all your help Doctor Sharpe, I cannot express how thankful we all are you were able to make a house call at such hour and leave all the important activities you probably had to put on hold”

Dr. Sharpe: “nonsenses, what are friend for right? I mean I love Lena like a sister, and she is one of my closest friends. I’ve heard a lot of stories about the wonderful Danvers sisters and I wish we could have met under better circumstances. But work and life kept me from National City and my favorite Luthor over here” She looks to where Lena standing close to Kara and gives her a very honest and tender smile. “I recently moved to National City looking for a less hectic and strenuous life, I love my job and being able to help and learn more about my field of expertise. But you know, there’s a time in your life where you need to stop and think of what you really want and need. I’m not in my 20s anymore and I needed a change. The need to settle down and have more time for me. I also missed Lee so very much, she’s been my family for a very long time, and it’s been years since we could be together in the same city for more than 2 days at the time. I just missed this amazing woman so much I just knew that if I wanted a fresh start and a place to call home it had to be wherever this amazing soul named Lena Luthor would be”

Lena started to tear up at the heartfelt words coming from the doctor, and you could sense Dr. Sharpe was a force to be reckon with and she was definitely someone very special and that she loved Lena fiercely. Wish only increased your need to know more about the blonde woman.

Lena: “Cassie why are you always trying to make me cry you beautiful idiot amazing woman. I have a reputation to uphold you know?” Lena teased and came to where the blonde woman was sitting at the coffee table in front of you and Kara. She gave the blonde a hug and whispered something in her ear that you couldn’t catch. But you saw Dr. Sharpe tear up a bit and nod against Lena’s shoulder. Suddenly you wanted to move Lena away and hold the blonde blue- eyed woman yourself. Ooookay possessive much? Damn those pain meds are really doing a number on you, what the hell? You mentally asked yourself while trying to sit up a bit since you been in a weird angle for a long time on top of Kara. You could swear you heard the words ´I love you too´ being whispered back from the blonde to Lena. You frowned.

This made the women turn in your direction, Kara helped you to sit with your back to her front while Alex kept looking at the exchange between Lena and the doctor and then at you with a smirk on her face.

Dr. Sharpe: “Okay well I guess that was a lot coming from someone you just met” she gives a nervous laugh while discretely removing a tear from her eye and continue with your examination. “And after that mushy festival, I would like to ask you y/n to really take it easy. Drink a lot of fluids and try to eat the food I listed in the sheet I gave your sisters. I will email you a more detailed list so you can have it at hand. I know it sucks no being able to eat many things but trust me y/s, I made sure to list a very good and delicious options, I swear to God and all the deities in heaven that I don’t eat rabbit food like Lena. I actually love food and I always try to make things easy for my patients. I mean they are already in pain and miserable so why make them suffer even more? I don’t like to see any of my patients in pain, that’s one of my main goals, that and to help them have a fast recovery period so they can go back to their normal lives in no time”

Kara: “wow you are a very impressive and dedicated doctor. Thank Rao Lena only has eyes for me, and we trust each other very much otherwise I would feel very intimated by you Doctor Sharpe.” Kara joked and laughs when Lena tries to slap Kara’s arm while still sporting a beaming smile at her girlfriend antics and having all her favorite ladies in the same room.

Dr. Sharpe: “Rao? As in the mythological Indian king?” – asked the blonde quite intrigued.

Everyone froze at that and Kara just giggled and said- “it’s just an expression from where I’m from but anyhoooow…what’s the verdict doctor?” – trying to change the course of the talk back to y/n.

Dr. Sharpe: “Oh, I see. That’s cool. Well Miss Y/N here needs complete and total rest for at least the next 48 hours. I would like to check on your incisions tomorrow just to make sure there’s no sign of nerve damage nor infection. And to try to gauge your pain tolerance while being out of the hard stuff and make sure you get the best option in time and avoid you experiencing any unnecessary pain. The first couple of days are the tricky ones. Reason why if you all are comfortable with, I would like to be your primary dental specialist, I’m not trying to impose or say that your current doctor is inadequate. The surgery was done perfectly. However, my concern comes from the post op care indications and the pain meds you were prescribed. Due to your medical history, the level of pain you experience today was very extreme, you doctor should have been aware of certain details to avoid searing pain based on your records. I’m sure he or she is a very competent doctor, however there are cases where the patient needs a more specialized professional, not to brag, but I am one of those professionals”. – she jokes while pointing a finger to herself.

Dr. Sharpe: “Besides any friends of Lena are friends of mine and I would hate for such a lovely girl like y/n to suffer unnecessary pain if avoidable” - her smile is kind and sincere.

You smile at the goofy doctor while being in awe of the amazing woman she is.

Lena: “Honestly Cassie you are so very humble I’m amazed you head still within the same space of your body and not floating around the streets ” – she says sarcastically with no bite behind her words, just friendly banter among close friends. “In all seriousness thank you so much for everything, I wanted to referred y/n to you as her first option, but you were so busy with the move and seminars that I never thought of asking. And her current doctor is an amazing professional as well, just not as immerse as you are in the studies of nerve damage caused by maxillofacial surgery. Nor the involvement in recent studies of sensory intervention to the face, and the you are pretty much involved in all the branches in mandibular nerve injuries”

Alex: “Absolutely, you seem to know more about what y/n needs right now and we would love for you to continue as her primary periodontist. And we have complete faith in what Lena says, to impress Lena Luthor is not an easy thing to accomplish and she speaks very highly of you. And like you said, a friend of Lena is a friend of ours as well”

Dr. Sharpe: “Perfect, that’s settles it then” – the blonde woman gives a brilliant smile to the women in front of her.

The Danvers sisters were beyond impress, if you could actually move your jaw, it would probably be hanging low near the floor at the amount of words coming out of Lena because, you were smart but that sounds like doctor Sharpe was some sort eminence in dental care. Can this woman be any more perfect?

Lena seems to be super proud of her friend and the way she talks about her work, you know Lena is beyond intelligent and crazy smart, but her friend is looking like a masterpiece created by the Gods themselves. Yes, the drugs she gave you are doing a number on you indeed.

The blonde doctor turns bright red at the words Lena just said and you think is the most wonderful thing to witness. You are in so much trouble.

You began to feel like all energy was leaving your body, you wanted to keep listening to Dr. Sharpe speak but you felt a heaviness take over your body and you still had something odd inside your mouth and all you wanted at the moment was to sleep. You tried to find a better spot within your sister arms and you brought a fist to your eye a clear sign that you were sleepy and about to get fussy.

Kara: “Someone is getting fussy over here. Dr. Sharpe are you all done, or you need her awake for a bit longer?” -Kara asked while traying to cradle you in a way you felt more comfortable.

Dr. Sharpe: “Oh my, I’m so sorry we kept talking and time got away from us. Yes, just hold her head like before and I will remove the mouth peace and apply the antiseptic and anesthetic gel really quick”

Doctor Sharpe was very quick to clean her hands and put on a new pair of latex gloves and very gently you felt your mouth being held again by those soft hands, and nimble fingers remove something spongy feeling that was placed inside your mouth. Then you saw when she grabbed something from a bag you haven’t noticed before and continue to properly finish wherever she was doing at the moment, finally you felt a sort of cold liquid and that was it.

Dr. Sharpe: “Ok all done. Sorry I got distracted for a moment. But you are all set y/n. You can now try to talk if you want but avoid making too much facial movements or prod the gaps with your tongue. I know is tempting, because you may feel a funny sensation around the tissue or just of out curiosity, please don’t do it. Rinse the extraction site with warm salt water 2 times a day for 1 week beginning tomorrow afternoon. Don’t let her take any of the medications on an empty stomach. If for any reason you experience discomfort or any problems, do not hesitate to call Okay?”

Y/N: “Thank you” – you replied very quietly and with a timid voice. Your sisters and Lena found that odd as you are always a ball of sunshine and not really shy. But then you had to do it, because of course you would…

Y/N: “So that means no corn dogs, right?”- you sheepishly asked.

Dr. Sharpe laughs a little – “No, sorry honey. You can’t eat those right now”

Kara and Lena just hide their smirks at the cheeky comment and Alex being the more mature of you all just gives you a look and you know you need to stop right now.

Alex: “Very well, you heard that y/n? no corn dogs and stick to what Dr. Sharpe is saying. You don’t want to be in pain and you will have tasty food options. So, shush you menace”

You sigh in relief that your sister is not really mad, and you honestly don’t want to prolong the time you need for recovery by doing something stupid, again.

Kara: “Okaay on that note, I’m taking this one to her room and tuck her in. Dr. Sharpe you should totally come to our games night, there’s wine, beer, food lots and lots of food and obviously games. We’re not sure when the next one will be though, until y/n right here feels better that’s for sure. But again, thank so much for all you’ve done tonight”

Alex: “Yes, I’ll be there in a moment, I will stay with her tonight. She tends to move in her sleep, like A LOT and I don’t want her hitting her face or putting to much pressure on her cheeks by lying on her side or stomach. If she is being held, she stays still”

Y/N: “No I don’t, Alex don’t say that” – you’re mortified by what your sister just said in front of the hot doctor and you want to hide your embarrassment.

Kara just snorts and Lena shakes her head. However, the blonde doctor seems to be pretty amused by that statement and looks at you with something you can’t quite decipher, she doesn’t look disgusted or mad. Her eyes seem to shine even brighter at that, and a smile so warm directed at you that you feel butterflies in your stomach. You are in so much trouble.

Dr. Sharpe: “You are just the cutest y/n. I think I’m going to have a blast getting to know you all now that I’m in National City. Now Alex, I think that’s a wise choice. An ice pack should be applied to the face as soon as possible, hold it for 20 minutes and then removed it for 20 more. Do it for a few hours, it will help minimize swelling”

Alex: “Of course, we have several ice packs ready. Thank you again for everything and it sure is a pleasure to meet you Doctor Sharpe I hope you can come to our game night; they are pretty fun and stress relivers. You can text us what time is best for y/n check up tomorrow or if you think it’s better for us to take her to your office…”

Dr. Sharpe: “Please, call me Cassandra Dr. Sharpe is way to formal and I would love to join you, just let me know what I need to bring and the time and date. About tomorrow, just call me whenever y/n is awake, and I can come to check on her pain level and make sure the clots are forming. It’s better for her to stay home so I think it’s easier for me to just stop by.”

Lena was looking at the exchange with curiosity, she seems to notice how her doctor friend was being towards y/n, she knew her well and her eyes never sparkle like that. At least not just at anyone and she hasn’t seen that look in a very long time. It was a good luck on her, however Lena was very protective of y/n, so she was going to have a nice long chat with her doctor friend very soon.

y/n was fading fast, so Kara just said a quick goodbye to the blonde doctor and walk out of the room with y/n in her arms while saying something about lunch or food. You weren’t quite sure.

Y/N: “Byeeeee doctor pretty eyes” – you said with a goofy smile and obviously losing all sense of shame and inhibition the sleepier you got. You gave a cute wave and you let yourself being carried away to your room.

The blonde doctor just gave you a big smile and waved back at you.

Dr. Sharpe: “See you tomorrow cutie, sleep tight”

Yes, things were about to get very interesting soon.

Next Part 4: dry sockets...

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Note: I don't know how or when it happened. The story took a twist without me actually knowing. somehow while thinking about this 3rd part i just kept seeing these scenes playing on my mind and my fingers just kept typing. I just realized how much i written and i was shocked to see it was at least twice the amount of words from the two previous parts. Let me know what you think, I never imagined this story to become so long. But bear with me, this is the first time I have written anything like this and i guess i still need to control my thoughts. Still i kept the same idea of baby Danvers being her silly cute and adorable self while being taken care and dot over her sisters and Lena. I just added something extra that I hope you'd enjoy. Please let me know what you think. I made this fluffier to compensate from the angst on Part 2, However don't think the pain is over (I laugh evilly and I slowly walk away)

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#baby danvers #baby!danvers #alex x baby danvers #origial character #supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor imagine #lena x reader #lena x supergirl #lena luthor #kara x reader #kara danvers imagine #kara danvers #alex danvers #fanfic

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mcchipisfried · 4 years

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DEArtfest Day 14 - Enemies to Lovers

Calling out @octopunkmedia for today’s prompt!!

I’m kidding I did write something but this was my basic reaction to reading the prompt. Also I will be making a drawing AND writing something for two other prompts so look forward to that...

(one might be an actual piece and not just a comic...)

Gavin sat at his desk, his coffee cup empty because he refused to be in the same room with an android for longer than two seconds. His day started as well as any other day did for Gavin Reed, with him waking up feeling like shit, drinking one cup of coffee at home, then another once he came into work, barely being able to stay awake while also having his new android partner quietly looming over his shoulder, tablet in hand, every so often glancing at him with what only could be described as a very displeased frown.

“Hey fuck face, could you fuck off to the next recycling bin and do your job there instead of leaning over me like some kind of fucking bodyguard?” Gavin said, turning to look at the android behind him, and watched as his frown seemed to deepen, probably in more displeasure towards Gavin’s words.

“Detective Reed, I believe for our partnership to function properly we must become at least comfortable with each other being in the same room. As for my presence, I was simply reviewing my scanners and noticed that your vitals are, simply put, terrible and it is my belief that you should go home before-”

“Oh so the fucking android is worried about my health now? Pretty ironic considering what you were made for. Why don’t you just fuck off and mind your own fucking business. Go one, wait somewhere else like the good little android you are and wait for someone to give you your next orders.” Gavin said, interrupting the android. Turning back around and facing his computer, ignoring the dirty looks he got from Tina and Chris as the RK900 promptly turned to walk towards the break room.

The RK900 sat at one of the tables in the break room and continued to look through the previous scans he had done of the Detective. They showed he was low on energy, yet had an accelerated heartbeat, most likely due to his over consumption of caffeine. He pushed his scans aside and instead focused on the tablet in front of him as he continued to silently work. If the Detective wouldn't cooperate with him in the future then he saw their partnership only ending with one of them physically hurting the other.

Before long, he looked up as Officer Chen came into the break room, asking if she could sit next to him. He nodded and focused on her presence as it was obvious she had come to talk to him.

“I’m sorry about Gavin. I know he can be pretty harsh but he’s not so bad once you get to know him a little, and even then he’s still kind of an ass-”

“I am sorry to interrupt you Officer Chen, but I am not interested in your apologies on behalf of the Detective.” Nines said. Looking back down at his tablet, he continued.

“He is an insufferable man child who insists on holding my designed purpose over my head as if my deviancy means nothing. I understand his prejudice stems from his own insecurities and interactions with Connor but it is still infuriating to be treated like this.” The RK900′s LED swirled, from yellow to a deep red. He felt the officer reach over to put her hand on his shoulder, smiling at him in understanding. He realized how rude he sounded and nodded at her, his LED returning to its yellow color.

“I won’t be returning his threats in any way but I will not let him continue to berate me as if i was still a slave to my programming. The only positive about this situation is the fact that this partnership will end once Lieutenant Anderson and Connor return. I might not have a purpose, I’m still trying to figure that out for myself, but I do know that I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again. I want to protect androids and humans, including Detective Reed.” He looked at the officer next to him, a silent understanding between them.

“Well,” Officer Chen stood from the table and started to turn to walk out of the break room. “I just hope Gavin doesn’t try to do anything stupid. He’s all bark, hardly any bite. Just...don’t kill him, alright? He’s an asshole but he’s the only asshole I can stand in this place.” she said to the RK900 before making her way out of the break room.

“I’ll try not too.” The android said going back to look at his tablet before looking up once more to see Detective Reed stopping in his tracks as he saw the RK900 sitting in the break room.

“Fuck this shit.” The detective said, before turning back to return to his desk.

“These are going to be some very long months” the android thought as he looked back down at his tablet, finally alone to work in peace.

“Nines, I’m gonna need you to fuck off right now before I decide to switch you out for Connor.” Gavin said, obviously joking as he continued to chew on his last slice of pizza. He had managed to eat a whole box of some of the best fucking pizza in all of Detroit because fuck it if he gets fat, not like he’s really interested in getting laid any time soon. In fact he could go the rest of his life without getting laid so long as it kept Nines pestering him like a mother hen, with a concerned look on his face. He liked having Nines pay attention to him. He didn’t know why, but he assumed it was because it had become a lot easier to get under his skin since their partnership began. By not taking care of himself he got to see some very interesting expressions from Nines besides his usual cocky smirk and neutral face.

“Detective, I know you seem to find yourself quite charming in many ways but I highly doubt Connor would want to spend more than two minutes as your partner, no matter how nice he is.” Nines said, clearly amused by Gavin's assumption that he’d ever be able to actually get rid of Nines. He had become quite attached to the Detective over the past few months as partners, even if he still found him to be irritating, especially in the way he handled his personal health, he would never be able to picture himself being partnered up with anyone other than Gavin.

“I can already see that you’re desperately trying to be like the Lieutenant by gaining some weight, although he has lost a lot of his previous weight and is in fact quite healthy. Might even say a bit attractive, in a roguish kind of way if that's something people are into.” Nines smirked as he saw Gavin scowl at this and slam the pizza box that was on the table shut.

“Excuse me? Tin Can I would NEVER let myself go to the point of even looking remotely like Hank? And attractive?? Something must be wrong with your fucking eyes if you think Hank fucking Anderson is attractive in any way, shape, or form because I am ten times more attractive than he is!” Gavin sputtered out, clearly set off by Nines’ comment.

“Tell me Detective, does the possibility of me finding anyone attractive bother you?” Nines asked, clearly enjoying the reactions he was getting out of Gavin now that he had distracted him enough to take the slice of pizza and throw it into the trash.

Gavin hardly took notice, now riled up by Nines’ question.

“Listen here Tin Can, I don’t know what the fuck you’re insinuating but the only reason I even care is because I am obviously more attractive than Hank fucking Anderson so don’t go thinking you can get away with saying dumb shit like that. I refuse to be partnered up with an android with clearly faulty eyesight.”

Gavin and Nines continued to argue, jumping from topic to topic, not noticing the two officers who looked on from the other side of the break room, whispering among themselves and wondering if Detective Reed and Nines were actually friends or not. Their continued eavesdropping into the Detective and Nines’ conversation did nothing to answer their questions.

Gavin opened his eyes as he felt the sunlight that filtered in from his window beginning to warm his face. He groaned and closed his eyes, feeling the side of his bed for a body but only found cold sheets. That’s when he noticed the smell of coffee and a much lighter smell that mingled beautifully with the smell of coffee. Eggs. His stomach growled and urged him to follow the heavenly smells that were obviously coming from the kitchen.

Once he made his way out of the bedroom he found Nines, at the stove making breakfast. Making him breakfast. His heart squeezed inside his chest at the image before him. He smiled lazily and made his way over, hugging Nines from behind and looking over his shoulder to see exactly what he was making.

“Good morning, Gavin.”

“Morning Tin Can, whatcha making?” Gavin asked, as he began to smell something sweet emanating from the kitchen table.

“I thought since we made that Red Ice bust a couple days ago, that it would be nice to treat ourselves this morning. I made you breakfast that I had hoped I’d be able to bring you to bed and later I was hoping you’d join me in going to the library. They have just started accepting androids for library cards and I’d like to get one for myself.” Nines said, before turning around and kissing Gavin on the cheek.

“Holy shit what did I do to deserve you? And you can totally serve me breakfast in bed, just let me go back so I can lay down. Also I love you, but I refuse to leave my bed today until after 3 PM.” Gavin said, as he sauntered back to the bedroom to wait for his breakfast. In bed.

Nines chuckled and went back to cooking, drastically reducing the amount of sugar in Gavin’s coffee and making sure to bring some fruit for Gavin to eat. They were definitely treating themselves today but he was still going to force Gavin to have a balanced breakfast even if it killed him.

That’s it! Probably one of my my longer ones but I really enjoyed writing this one.

#fanfic #detroit evolution #reed900 #enemies to lovers #deartfest

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seokiloquy · 4 years

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Lost In- What Word? Pt 1 - Akaashi Keiji

AU: Single Parent

Requested

Word Count: 4.5k+

Disclaimer: Fem! Reader, Time skip spoilers, Udai being a meta Furudate insert, just fluff

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Akaashi wasn’t sure if Udai was naturally forgetful, or just held so much anticipation in his smaller form that he glossed over details and didn't realize it. Udai was an excellent author despite not having reached the major public yet. His first published work was short and eerie which most of the shonen reading population didn’t greedily rip off the shelves. Although, those that did read it gave him overwhelming support, maybe the rest of the world wasn’t ready for that kind of psychological horror just yet.

When Akaashi originally applied for a position at the publishing company he intended to work in the literature department, editing lengthy novels and picking out grammatical errors, not reading conversations via text bubbles and looking for continuity errors between images. He never did pick out the exact moment he went from editor to fact-checker and archivist. Akaashi also never knew how many different ways there were to translate a single word until he met you. And once he did, he realized that his eyes would follow you across the office as you ran around and spoke to other editors, helping them furnish their translations so that they flowed properly.

“Tenma, isn’t he meant to be out of the rotation for this panel?” Akaashi couldn’t help but grimace when faced with the utter despair that had pulled on Udai’s typically eased expression. The panel itself was masterfully drawn, taking up two pages and showing off Udai’s immense talent in drawing expressions and anatomy.

“I spent 8 hours on that, only to find out that it needs to be scrapped. What has my life come to?”

The yellow office lights made both of the men’s hair give off a green tinge and made their faces look sickly. Udai frowned as he pushed his chair back and let his chin sit on the table of the small meeting room. His hair curled around his fingers as they gently tugged on the ends of the wavy black stands, straightening them only to let them go and have them bounce back into place.

Akaashi flipped through the printed out pages of the chapter, letting the loose papers lay flat on the table. He pointed to the next pages. “These are fine though. They’re in the right rotation here, so not all is lost at least.”

Udai sighed, as he threw his weight back into the chair, making it spin with his momentum. “That’s all well and good, but I was really proud of that panel. It was going to be the attention grabber.”

Akaashi pursed his lips gently, flipping through the pages once more before tucking them into the pale yellow folder and closing it. Udai’s new story was in its beginning stages, only having a sample chapter that would be published in the following week’s magazine, that is if they got it done in time.

“It needs to be perfect. I can’t have this not work and starve for the rest of my life.”

Akaashi opened his mouth slightly, taking in a deep breath, ready to spout out his words of encouragement for his colleague when there was a knock on the door followed by the soft creaking of the hinges as it opened.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to ask Udai about some of the uh… what’s the word? Dang, I’m supposed to know Japanese, it’s my job. The— I give up. Help?”

Udai chuckled and waved you over to take the seat opposite him, you shook your head and bowed slightly as your hand raised, saying you were alright, not needing the chair. Leaning down slightly you pointed at the ruff sketch copy in your hand where your current author’s handwriting seemed to over the edges of the text bubble slightly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but how in the hell am I supposed to translate ‘paisen’?”

The innocent question seemed to brighten Udai’s mood much more than Akaashi’s monotone words of support would have. The older man launched backwards, nearly flinging himself off the chair, in a fit of laughter. His hands gripped the shirt he wore above his stomach and chest as they tried to ease the laughing pains.

Akaashi chuckled at the sight before looking at your somewhat regretful expression, you were probably too used to your co-workers laughing at your in-fluency at Japanese. “You can probably substitute a familiar nickname or a joking reference of respect.”

You sighed and brushed your hand over the back of your neck, “I swear, Himari had the intent to torture me with this last chapter. Thank you, Akaashi.”

Finally calmed from his fit of giggles, Udai sat straight in his chair and sent you a gracious smile. “Well, at least when you join our team I won’t torture you as much.”

You gave Udai and Akaashi a teasing smirk as you reached for the door handle. “I’m not so sure about that,” you said. “Besides, you need to get the attention of the readers before I join your team. No point in translating a comic that doesn’t even get off the ground right?”

You sent them a wink and the door closed behind you with a quiet click.

“Was that a challenge?”

“I believe so,” Akaashi said, handing Udai a blank sheet of paper. “Looks like we have some work to do.”

The office was, as it was the day before, and the day before that, calm. Udai sat in a small isolated office on his own with a naturally coloured lamp hanging over his hunched figure. The rest of his team, including Akaashi and now you as well, sat outside his door in a row of cubicles that led up to a large window that took up the entirety of the wall. In the corner cubicle, pressed against the window and directly across from him, you sat, typing away on your computer as you translated the Japanese text into Wild Words fonted English.

“Akaashi, is the end of chapter ready to translate?” Your head peeked over the frosted cubicle wall, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and the corner of your eyes pinching together. Akaashi’s gaze fluttered around.

“Ah, Ya the edits are done so you can finish translating it now.”

The smile you wore only seemed to grow, making Akaashi want to turn away and stare at the same time. The sun’s light contrasted with the dull rectangular lights in the office, making your skin glow. Your fingers tightened on the top of the glass and your shoulders rose to your ears, you narrowly missed knocking over an owl keychain that hung on his side of the wall.

“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll get them done now.”

The day continued like this, everyone working and occasionally calling out to each other through their cubed walls, possibly getting a twirling pen in the forehead followed by a meek apology (coming from you). Every time you spoke to someone you would rise out of your seat to make eye contact with them, refusing to continue speaking otherwise, and even though he wasn’t the person you always spoke to, each time your head began to poke out of your squared corner Akaashi couldn’t help but turn his attention your way, watching as the sun's light danced around you. It didn’t come to a surprise when, like every instance before, Akaashi looked up when you shot up from your seat. Only this time there was a frantic look plastered unevenly on your face, one that the warm light didn’t compliment.

“Please tell me my clock is wrong and that it’s not 4 pm.”

Chiyo leaned back in her chair, setting down her Cintiq’s pen and flipped the watch on her wrist so that the face faced her. “Yup, it’s actually 4:15.”

Akaashi was surprised to hear a not so work friendly English curse leave your lips as you rushed to save files on your computer while simultaneously packing your purse. You continued to swear as you ran out of your cubicle and toward the elevators with a quick “goodbye” being thrown over your shoulder. The office was quiet.

“Does that happen often?” Ena asked as he pulled off his glasses.

The group of artists and their editor sat in stunned silence for a few moments, minds racing over where the young translator had scurried off to. In their collaborative confusion, the team slowly went back to their respective jobs.

Himari came around the corner of the office, coffee in hand, as she chatted with her editor, who was nursing his own mug. The writer looked up for her conversation to see Udai’s team and gave them a polite nod. They were going to meekly return to their work when Himari paused her steps and looked at the empty plush chair that sat rotated and untucked in your cubicle.

“Oh, did (Y/N) leave?” to Akaashi’s surprise, Himari was not.

“Does she do that often?” he asked, setting down his pen on the counter of his desk.

Himari nodded, smiling, “Oh ya, sometimes she gets lucky and her friend can handle it but a lot of the time she has to run out of here by 3.” Akaashi’s brow furrowed slightly as Himari took a sip of her coffee before continuing waving her hand by her head, “Don’t worry too much about it though, she always comes in early to get her work done.”

Before they could question further, Himari was off with her editor sending them a knowing smile.

When the end of the workday rolled around, only 45 minutes after your quick departure, Akaashi found his eyes trailing back to his phone that sat at the corner of his desk on top of a stack of papers. Keeping watch on his phone, he swung his bag over his shoulder and shut off his computer. The device remained silent as the team began to pile out of their seats, toward the elevators and in a fit of contemplation, he reached for the phone.

Your response was quick and vague; Family thing, happens often. I’ll tell you later. See you tomorrow!

After the sample comic was released, Udai was thrown when he received an immense amount of interest for his characters and story, and he was even more excited when he received word from the magazine’s publishers that they wanted him to continue with the path he was on. The months building up to this moment were filled with constant plot revisions, reference excursions, and interviews until they came to a conclusive framework of the story, and continued introductions as new members were added to their original duo to make the workload less hefty.

Today though was the day that the story’s first chapter would finally be released to the public.

Akaashi tracked into the office, heading to the lounge to grab a coffee before coming up to his cubicle against the window and setting his bag down, immediately heading to the lounge. 8:40 in the morning, 20 minutes before the expected time of arrival, Akaashi, back at his desk, was just about to take a sip of coffee when a small snore overlapped the sound of the air conditioners, creating a dishonest harmony.

On the other side of the frosted glass wall of the cubicle was you, head resting on the black mouse pad that had a small plush cushion for your wrist. Akaashi quickly rounded the desks, coming to our side to gently rouse you from your slumber before your co-workers arrived. He was to wake you up gently with a hand on your shoulder, that was the plan. The plan changed when he noticed the small picture frame on your desk, surrounded by various action figures and Funko pops.

With one hand on your shoulder and the other holding the fame, he studied the photo with a kind gaze. He was so enthralled with the image that he forgot that below his other hand, was you.

“He’s cute ain’t he?” you asked, startling the editor back to his current reality as you stretched, arching your back like a cat. Akaashi’s attention was brought back to the current situation as you reached out for another frame in the opposite corner of your desk. “His name is Naoko. Here, this photo is newer.”

The young boy in the new photo looked like you a lot, more so than the previous one where he was just an infant that carried more resemblance to a potato than a human. Akaashi, without taking his eyes off the pictures, pulled the chair out from under Ena’s desk and sat next to you. He didn’t say anything, deciding just to admire the photos he held and letting you decide whether or not he should have the pleasure of hearing a story.

You sighed and yawned, leaning over the armrest of your chair so you would see them too. “He’s six, really quiet. I moved here when I found out. Hardly even out of university, and I was already pregnant with some strangers kid,” you laughed, making Akaashi stare at your features for a moment, wanting to point out which ones could be found on the boy.

“Is he the reason you moved to Japan?” Akaashi was a little taken aback by your willingness to talk, but in hindsight, you didn’t seem like the person to keep secrets, often rattling with your co-workers about your interests. Thinking back, maybe he should have expected something like this, Himari seemed to have known after working with you for several years, happily dancing around the topic of your personal life with your new coworkers when your sudden departure was questioned.

You shrugged, “not entirely, but he sure was a good excuse. I had plans to move to Japan for years before I even got into university. When I found out, I was sort of… uh. English…. Fuck, I need a job. So I applied to be an intern here, moved in with a friend I met online and prepared to have a baby.” Your arms flew about as you talked.

“You act as though it was easy,” Akaashi laughed, placing the frames back onto the table.

You let out a happy chuckle and spun your chair to face Akaashi head-on, eyes not leaving his, “I wouldn’t say it was easy, per se, but I’m happy with how things turned out.” you yawned a bit, “I should also apologize for running out of the office early sometimes, I have to pick Naoko up from school so —”

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” The gentle smile he wore was contagious.

It was 8:50 when the rest of the team came in. Immediately catching sight of Ena, Akaashi pulled away from your side, rolling the chair back to its respective location. He heard a breathy laugh escape you as he scurried around the desks to return to his designated spot across from you, cardigan flailing about.

The rest of your team piled into their seats sending the two of you waves and morning greetings. Ena nearly dropped his ‘don’t talk to me till I’ve had my coffee’ mug as he tripped over his rubber slides just before reaching his desk next to yours.

Sending your friends a smile you quickly slid back into your cubicle to re-adjust the frames on your desk with a yawn. Akaashi gave you a nod when you looked up to his stiff, still standing, form. You made his heart feel much weaker than he’d like to admit and without saying another word, he picked up the forgotten mug filled with brown liquid and handed it over the glass, into your hands.

Naoko was much more reserved than Akaashi expected, definitely a contrast to your more hyper personality. He spent most of the day sitting in the corner behind your cubicle where a table was set up next to a row of cabinets. What the boy was doing, Akaashi wasn’t entirely sure, but there was a small tickle at that back of his brain that made him want to find out.

When you had come in that morning, the group was surprised to see the small boy trailing behind you, holding onto your hand tightly with the both of his. “PD day,” you said. Udai spent the first few minutes of the day gushing over the boy’s cheeks instead of working, only to end up being backtracked and having to cram into his lunch break. Akaashi would be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful for that though.

“What do you have there?” he asked, taking a seat next to the boy and setting down his lunch next to the younger’s bento box.

Naoko curled in on himself, bringing the phone (that was most definitely yours) to his chest. The boy’s knees had pulled up to his shoulders as his feet pushed on the edge of the chair. Akaashi sent the young boy a kind smile and waited. From the corner of his eye, he could see your chair turn around as you took in the sight of your son and co-worker. He watched as you began making large swinging motions with your arms. Akaashi tried not to laugh.

Whatever had been playing on the phone hadn’t been paused in the short time given to do so, making the familiar sound ring quietly around the two of them.

Akaashi looked back your way for a moment, only to see you tilt your head up in a supporting nudge and turn back around.

“Are you watching a volleyball game?” he asked, rousing a more positive reaction from the boy.

Naoko’s shoulders lowered and he slowly placed the phone down between them. As Akaashi had concluded, a volleyball game played on the small screen. He put forward another question.

“Do you like to play?”

The six-year-old shrugged but nodded before scooting his chair in closer and reaching for his food. Akaashi mirrored him, slipping off his collared cardigan and pulling his lunch closer, still watching the game.

“I used to play volleyball.” This caught the boy’s attention, who turned his head to look at Akaashi, brows raised and lips pursed. “I was a setter.”

Naoko swallowed his food and for the first time, Akaashi got to hear him speak.

“I like playing setter too.”

His voice was rather meek and had a sort of authority to it, but the biggest thing he noticed made him stifle a laugh.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he called gently, making you spin your chair around in question. “Why is Naoko better at Japanese then you?”

“Hey! That’s mean!”

Naoko began to wiggle in his seat, desperately trying not to laugh at his mother’s, your, irritation. You shot a look at your son and gasped.

“Don’t you start laughing at me. I speak English better than you do.”

“You don’t need to speak English in Japan, mom.”

Kaashi continued to choke on his laugher as you pushed the palm of your hand into your forehead. “I’m being teased by my own son,” you cried quietly, turning your chair back around to face the unedited pages.

Naoko giggled and looked back Akaashi’s way. “Can you teach me?”

Akaashi didn’t see you still in your chair, listening.

“Of course I can.”

“Udai, seriously? You promised that you weren’t going to use weird industry term slang stuff on me.”

With a wide-eyed look and hair messily tied back, the man in question rotated his chair around childishly. “I never promised. I just said I'd go easier on you.” It was infuriating really.

With a pitiful whine, you shook the rough script in your hand making an angry fluttering sound. “You’re so mean Tenma. You know that I have trouble with slang.”

Udai only laughed and waved you off, “It’s a good way to learn is it not?”

You rolled your eyes but relented, giving a wave and closing the door. Once at your seat Akaashi poked his head out, eyes visible over the top of his square-framed glasses.

“He did it again?”

“Ya,” you huffed. “I can’t blame him though. It’s just frustrating that I can’t remember what a lot of the words mean. I should buy a dictionary.” Akaashi watched as you turned your monitor on. “Oh, um, Naoko was asking about you the other day.”

“Really?”

Your hands came together behind your neck, pulling your head down bashfully. “Ya, he’s been wanting to show you how he’s doing and maybe get the chance to learn a bit from you.”

Akaashi gave you a kind smile, so small that it didn’t even crease his cheeks, and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Your cheeks warmed as you beamed up at him before turning your head down towards your computer screen. Akaashi took a second to appreciate how the cool light from the overcast sky made you look. It was silent in the office for a moment. Just a moment.

“Udai! Another one?!”

In theory, so long as you have space above your head, you can play volleyball anywhere. Your apartment wasn’t ‘anywhere’.

The three-bedroom living space was built as housing and not an Olympic arena, and after breaking one too many of your glasses playing around, it was made clear to you, Naoko, and your sport junky roommate, that volleyball shouldn’t be allowed in the house.

“You guys can go play volleyball with Akaashi at the park, no?” Yukie asked, grabbing an onigiri of the large plate on your kitchen counter and stuffing it in her face. You made a large dinner that day, only to have your friend eat most of it, instead of leaving leftovers for Naoko’s lunch. Not that he complained about it, you sure did though.

Taking Yukie’s words to heart, when the weekend rolled around and Naoko was becoming more anxious, you invited Akaashi to your neighbourhood park to play volleyball.

“Open your elbows a bit more, make a triangle with your hand, and when the ball comes just cushion it with your fingertips before sending it out, okay?”

Naoko nodded, staring at his hands that were being moved around by the older player. Akaashi’s form was kneeled by the boy’s side, his head nearly resting on the younger's shoulder as he tried to make sure he was in the right position.

“Alright,” he said, grabbing the smaller than average volleyball off of the grass. “I’m gonna toss this to you, do you think you can get it to hit my hand right up here?”

Naoko nodded again, eagerly waiting for the blue and yellow ball to come flying his way. You watched silently from the park bench as Naoko tried (and often failed) to get the ball to touch Akaashi’s hand accurately.

“Almost there, you got this Naoko!” Akaashi encouraged.

Earnestly waiting to see the next move, you sat forward in your seat, watching as that ball made a tall arch towards Naoko’s waiting palms. As the ball made contact with his fingertips, he bent his elbows and wrists before shooting them out into a straight line, sending into the palm of Akaashi’s hand before dropping back onto the grassy field.

Your son, as most six-year-olds do when accomplishing something, shrieked. He shrieked very loudly before sprinting directly into Akaashi’s stomach to give him a (breath-stealing) hug. Akaashi coughed as he tried to get air back into his depleted lungs. From the side you giggled, watching as Naoko’s smile grew, head buried into Akaashi’s stomach.

It became standard, going out to the park during your off days. And this day, like the weekends that have come before, the routine of going to the park, ball in hand, continued. But after spending an hour or so watching the familiar movement of the yellow and blue ball fly through the air, Naoko interrupted the serene setting with a loud request.

“Mama! Mom! Can we go get onigiri?”

Looking up from resting your neck on the back of the bench to turn your gaze onto the energetic boy that was hopping around on the grass. “I’m okay with that, but you should probably ask Akaashi along. We don't want to leave him at the park do we?” you teased, picking up your bag and walking toward the two.

Naoko spun again to look at Akaashi, whose hands were now tucked into his jeans pockets. “Please!” he wailed. “Come with us! Please, please, please, please, please!”

Akaashi let out a hearty laugh. “Calm down, I’ll join you.” without saying another word, Akaashi offered his hand out, letting Naoko clutch it eagerly.

“Udai are you sure it’s okay to bring Naoko along? This is meant to be a work trip and I’d hate for him to dis… dic… get in the way,” you gave up at the end, sighing over your tripping words.

Udai gave Naoko, who had been clinging to Akaashi’s arm since all of you had met outside the city gymnasium, a pat on the head. “It’s alright. Besides, he’ll probably be a great resource.”

You nodded and watched as Naoko rattled to Akaashi about his school team and new things they had been practicing. You pouted. Upon their arrival, Ena, Chiyo and the others immediately began teasing you for effectively losing your son’s favour, which didn’t make your whining any less audible. On top of that, the group of artists found your sullen look to be a perfect reference, taking their cameras out.

“Keiji,” you cried, following behind the rest of the group as they waltzed through the gym entrance along with the crowd. “You’ve stolen my son.”

Akaashi paused for a moment, taking in a calm breath before looking over his shoulder. “He’s your son, I can’t steal that from you.”

Naoko threw a large smile over his shoulder, making your dragging steps falter.

When did it change? The expression on his face. When did it become so happy? Did he not smile before?

You picked up your pace, brows furrowed as you watched your son chatter happily.

When did he start speaking so much? Since when did he have so much to say? Was it something new in his diet? Or maybe the new friends on his volleyball team?

You found your gaze shifting to the hand that held his. Without thinking about it too hard, you quickened your steps to come up to Naoko’s other side. Your heart pounded as you held your closest hand out for him to grab hold of. When he finally did, immediately looking forward to dragging the two adults with him, the smile you gave Akaashi was the largest he’s ever seen coming from you.

You looked back at all of your interconnecting hands fondly.

When did he become another person’s son?

I tried going a bit of a different direction with this one in comparison to most Single Parent aus. I’ll admit it could have more meat to it, but oh well, things to improve on.

Question:

Do you prefer weekly one-shots that are shorter in length (like we’re doing) or longer ones with bigger plots and inconsistent updates (Sort of like “Catch Me If You Can” and “Ready Aim FIre” but longer)?

- Bacon

Posted: 31/07/2020

#haikyuu x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #Haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #anime x reader #anime #manga x reader #manga

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lancermylove · 4 years

Text

How Does One...? 101.

Fandom: BSTS

Pairing: Sinju x Reader

Warning: NS/FW fail? Jk, suggestive.

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: (light ns/fw maybe) Hello Lancer-senpai! I really adore your writing, especially for BSTS, so I wanted to request an one shot with Sinju! The scenario is; the two of you have dated for a bit and now Sinju is feeling it is time to go all the way, maybe (the s/o ofc really wants it too!)? It can be crack, fluff or NS/FW I just want to see what you come up with because I love what you do! I hope this isn't too vague :'D

A/N: Your request is not vague at all! I had so much fun writing this request. So, I decided to make it comical and include the Starless members in the start. I am SO sorry that reader enters much later on, but I couldn’t stop writing the first “half”. 😂

Word Count: 3,892

———————————————

Sinju shifted back onto the park bench, but his eyes remained fix on the shimmering water in front of him. He paid no heed to the people walking by nor to the conversation of the couple sitting next to him.

'What should I do?' The young boy kept asking himself again and again. 'We have been dating for a while, but..'

Shaking his head vigorously, he sighed, "Maybe I should ask someone for help."

He tightened his grip on the white paper cup in his left hand and stood up. Taking one last sip of his vanilla latte, he tossed the cup into the trash can and headed towards Starless.

"Hey, Rindou?" Sinju couldn't think of anyone better to ask for help than his trusted leader.

"What's wrong, Sinju?" Rindou gave him a warm smile, "Did something happen?"

"Do you have a few minutes? I need your advice on something."

The older male nodded and motioned his teammate to sit on the chair across him. Though he trusted his team leader, the young boy was nervous to talk openly about such a sensitive subject.

"So, I have a girlfriend, and we have been dating for a while now. Um...I-I have been thinking about...um, taking things one s-step further." Sinju shyly glanced at Rindou while drawing circles on the table in front of him. "I have n-no experience, so how do I go about it?"

Rindou tilted his head slightly, "Go about what?"

"You know." Sinju hoped that his team leader would catch on but seeing Rindou clueless, he had no choice but to say it, "How do I k-know that she'll be okay with me getting close to her? And...how do I properly m-make lo-love?"

The green-haired man's face turned bright red as he bit the corner of his lower lip. "U-uh...w-well...S-Sinju, I am not s-sure how to answer that..."

The usually cheerful boy lowered his eyes and mumbled, "I a-am sorry."

"Please don't apologize," Rindou spoke in a timid voice, "It's difficult for me to answer such a question, but...you could try asking the others?"

Sinju nodded, not wanting the moment to get any more awkward, "I will do that. Sorry again."

"Please don't apologize. I'm sorry for not being able to help."

Sinju smiled and thanked Rindou again before quickly walking out of the restaurant area. He stopped near the rehearsal room and placed his hand on his chest, drawing in deep breaths.

'Who do I ask now? Menou?'

The orange-haired man's expressionless face appeared in his mind, causing his eyes to widen.

'Maybe not him. Yakou?'

The memories of his trainee group flooded his head - his excitement, the company excusing him, his decision to leave without telling his group, his fight with Yakou, and his friend's attempt to overthrow Rindou.

He let out a heavy sigh and mumbled under his breath, "No way, I can ask him. Then, what about Ma-"

Before he could say the singer's name, a vivid image of a hole in a wall flashed in his mind. A chill ran down his spine, "I don't want to die yet."

"Why are you standing here talking to yourself?" A gruff voice called out behind him, causing the young boy to jump.

"K-Kokuyou, s-sorry." Sinju nervously tugged at his jacket's sleeve, "Say, can I ask you something?"

The taller man looked at his questioningly but waited for him to continue.

"U-Uh, well, I-I..."

"Stop stuttering and say whatever the hell you want to say!"

Sinju raised his hands in defense and shook his head, "Nothing! Sorry!"

With those words, he ran down the hall while Kokuyou stared at his back, confused. "What's his problem?"

Sinju ran out to the back alley and leaned his back against one of the walls, catching his breath. While waiting for his racing heart to calm down, he thought about who else he could ask.

'Akira might know, but what if he tells the other cast members about this? They won't let me live it down. Taiga may find this topic awkward. Sin...' Sinju paused and thought of the conversation he had with Sin a few days ago.

"Hi, Sin! How are you?"

"The waves sway to the wind's command even if they sought freedom."

Sinju tilted his head to the left and blinked, "What does that mean?"

Sin gave a smile and added a spoonful of tea leaves to a light blue teapot, "The moon may light the darkness, but a single cloud possesses the power to engulf the light."

The young boy felt blood rushing to his brain as he tried his hardest to decipher the poetic male's words.

"How does Team W understand him?" Sinju blinked away a few tears trying to escape his eyes. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, "Maybe I could try asking Takami later."

"It's rare seeing you in the back alley."

"H-Hey, Sotetsu." Sinju watched as the tall man sat down on one of the steps and took out a pack of cigarettes.

"Did you join the dark side and start smoking?" He chuckled and lit one of the cigarettes before taking a long puff.

"N-No." Sinju followed the smoke lazily and sighed, "If I ask you a question, will you charge me for it?"

Sotetsu started laughing, "You know me too well." He carefully analyzed Sinju's reaction before speaking again, "What's your question?"

"I can't pay you anything right now." He lowered his gaze, kicking a gray pebble in front of his shoe.

"Don't worry. I am asking to satisfy my curiosity."

"How do you know what woman want? I mean...are there specific signals or signs?" Team P's member mumbled, keeping his gaze on the ground.

He failed to notice an amused smirk forming on the older man's lips, "What do you mean?" Though he knew fully well what Sinju was insinuating, Sotetsu decided to test the water a little.

"I mean, how do you tell if a girl wan-" Sinju suddenly froze when it hit him that asking Sotetsu may be just as bad as asking Akira. 'What if he tells the others?'

"I just remembered that I have to...uh...go help Rindou. See you later." Sinju quickly walked past Sotetsu without glancing at him once.

Team K's member laughed to himself, "You can't even lie properly...you're too honest for your own good."

Once again lost in thought, Sinju absentmindedly turned a corner and nearly ran into Ginsei and Gui, but ended up losing his balance and fell on his behind.

"S-sorry, Sinju," Ginsei held out a hand and helped the blue-haired boy onto his feet, "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah. Actually, no, I am trying to figure something out but can't find an answer."

"What are you trying to find out?" Team K's second inquired.

"Ginsei, how do you properly treat a woman?" Sinju asked, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jacket.

"Well, that depends on the woman, but you have to be nice to her, listen to her words, treat her with respect-"

Shaking his head, Sinju interrupted, "T-That's not what I mean. How do you know what women want?"

"That again depends on the woman. Some like attention, some like their space," Ginsei paused after seeing a disappointed expression on Sinju's face, "Is that not what you're asking?"

Sinju shook his head and drew in a deep breath, gathering courage, "Is there a proper way to have s*x?"

Ginsei's jaw dropped at hearing Sinju's question as his face turned various shades of red. Not expecting such a bold question, Ginsei was at a complete loss of words, "U-Uh, I-I...w-well...um..."

Seeing the silver-haired man stuttering, Sinju bit the bottom of his lip, "I am sorry for being so straightforward." He hung his head and dragged his heavy feet out of there.

"Ginsei?" Gui called him but got no response. He shook his team member gently, "Ginsei?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"What does s*x mean?" Gui asked innocently, leaning his head to one side.

Ginsei nearly dropped to the ground. His eyes grew as wide as they possibly could while his cheeks kept getting redder. "Gui, don't EVER ask that question to anyone. Actually, forget that you ever heard that word."

Back to square one, Sinju trudged his way through the empty halls of Starless. As he made his way back towards the rehearsal room, he heard a faint sound coming from inside. Taking a peek inside, he saw Mokuren stretching his muscles.

"Mokuren." Sinju cautiously stepped inside, but as soon as he saw Moku's glare, he retreated out of the room, "I am sorry to disturb you!"

"Someone seems frazzled."

Sinju swiftly turned around to see Zakuro and Hari standing behind him. He pondered for a second but decided that he didn't know them well enough to tell them his issue. "I'm okay."

Heading into the locker room, Sinju ran down his now nearly depleted list of who to ask. 'I don't want to ask Rico...he's most likely going to make fun of me. Asking Ran and Mizuki is out of the question. Heath might get embarrassed.'

He plopped onto the chair in front of the makeup vanity and stared at himself in the mirror, examining his dark circles and pale face. Sinju slouched further into the chair and closed his eyes. 'That leaves Kei, Takami, Qu, Kasumi, and Kongou.'

----

It was a new day, and Sinju decided to try his luck once again, hoping that he will get an answer or answers this time around. He poked his head into the management office and spoke in a shaky voice, "Kei, do you h-have a minute?"

Kei glanced at him and nodded, motioning him to come inside. "Why do you sound nervous? Did your team members get into another fight?"

Sinju closed the door behind him before shaking his head. "Thankfully, no, but I wanted to ask you something. I h-have a kinda personal question," he raised his hands in front of him, "not personal as in prying information about you."

"What do you want to know?" Kei asked in his signature baritone voice, maintaining a straight face.

"H-How do I know my girlfriend is...um...ready to get c-close to me? And how do I...ma-make love properly?" Sinju couldn't meet the older male's eyes after those words left his mouth.

Kei's lips slightly parted, and his eyebrows rose a notch. Though he was astonished, Kei quickly gathered himself. A smile soon appeared on his lips. Sinju slowly drew his eyes up to see Kei smiling, much to his surprise.

"If your girlfriend wants you to get close to her, you will be able to tell from her body language." Kei paused to allow Sinju to ask any new questions.

"Body..language?"

"Yes. Each female has her way of hinting that she's ready. You will have to figure this out on your own, but ask yourself, is she doing anything out of the usual?" Kei studied Sinju's expressions before continuing, "To answer your second question, there is no proper way of making love. But, make sure to pay attention to her needs."

"I see." Sinju rubbed the back of his head, taking in the information piece-by-piece, "Thank you, Kei."

Bowing slightly, he turned on his heels and headed towards the door, overjoyed that he finally got an answer to his question. Meanwhile, Kei quietly chuckled and whispered to himself, "How sweet."

Sinju skipped to the locker room but stopped upon hearing his name. Spinning around, he saw Takami walking towards him. "Someone is happy today."

The young boy gave a grin, "Hey, Takami."

"Did something good happen?"

"I finally got an answer to my question." Sinju leaned against the door to the locker room and spoke in a quiet voice.

"What question would that be?" Takami asked curiously, pushing his glasses closer to his face with his index finger.

Sinju pressed his lips together, thinking whether or not he should ask Takami as well. 'More opinions won't hurt, right? After all, Kei said there's no right way.'

Before asking, Sinju looked up and down the hallway, making sure that no one was around. "Takami, do you have any tips for...my f-first time?"

"First time?" He asked in a whisper.

"Yes, first time...getting close to my g-girlfriend."

Takami smiled at Sinju's nervousness, "Follow your instincts and have patience."

"Oh, okay. Thanks, Takami. I need to get ready for floor duty."

Team W's member smirked a little as he watched his co-worker disappear into the locker room. "That was unexpected."

----

Once Team W started their show, Sinju followed Qu and Kasumi back to the locker room for a short break. He sat on one of the benches and stretched his legs, "That was hectic."

"It's pretty busy for a weekday," Kasumi chimed in while nodding in agreement.

Qu finished touching up his foundation and gazed at Sinju through the mirror, "Sinju, did something happen yesterday?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Hari and Zakuro were saying something about you not looking too well," Qu said in a concerned tone.

"Oh, that? Can I ask you two a question? You promise to keep it a secret?" Sinju asked, looking back and forth at the friends. They nodded in unison.

"I am thinking about taking my relationship with my girlfriend one step further. Do you two have any suggestions?"

A gentle smile danced on Qu's lips, "Well, you could try to set up the mood. Soft music, roses, candles..."

Kasumi leaned back on the bench and added, "You could start by watching a romantic movie."

The corner of Sinju's lips rose little-by-little as he began to picture the date in his mind. "Sounds perfect."

"Good luck, Sinju." Kasumi patted his shoulder as Qu nodded in agreement.

"Now, shall we get back to our duty?" The silver-haired beauty chuckled and warned the men that their break was coming to an end.

----

The day was almost over. Sinju was one of the last ones left in the store. He opened his locker and started gathering his belonging, humming to himself.

"Sinju, you are still here?"

"I had to finish cleaning. Are you locking up the store today, Kongou?" Sinju closed his locker and made his way to the ex-wrestler.

"Yeah. Are you heading to the train station? If so, mind if we walk together?" Kongou asked politely.

"I'll wait for you at the entrance." Sinju smiled and excused himself.

Locking up the store, the two men walked past a crowd of tourists, giving each one of them a smile. Even at a distance, they could hear the females in the group giggling.

"So, how was your day?" Kongou asked, "I heard floor duty was an adventure today."

"Yeah, there were so many demands. I am sure you were super busy in the kitchen."

"It was busy, but at least there were no accidents." Kongou laughed.

Silence filled the air as the two men walked past a usually busy park. A light breeze ruffled a few of Sinju's loose hair strands. "Hey Kongou, do you have a girlfriend?"

Surprised by the sudden question, the tall man turned his head towards Sinju, "Well, n-no, but why do you ask?"

Realizing that he may sound nosy, the young boy quickly apologized, "Oh, s-sorry. I have received a lot of good tips today about how to treat my girlfriend, but I want to ask you for your opinion as well."

"Treat as in?"

"Get c-close to her." He whispered and puffed his cheek.

Though Kongou was taken aback by the question, he found Sinju's expressions to be quite cute. Clearing his throat, he spoke calmly, "Since it sounds like your first time, I suggest you pay heavy attention to foreplay to get both of you ready. Also remember to use protection."

Sinju nodded and thanked Kongou for his advice before parting ways with him. While on the train, he took out his phone and texted you.

Sinju: Are you free the day after tomorrow? You: I have all the time in the world for you.❤️ Sinju: 😀 Then, do you want to come over to my house? Um...in the evening?

Not seeing an immediate reply, almost made Sinju regret asking you. ‘Did I scare her off? Does she think I’m moving too fast? Maybe she isn’t ready.’ DING. DING. DING.

Sinju was startled to hearing his notification going off. He scrambled to unlock his phone, nearly dropping it in the process. An elder lady sitting across from him even asked him to calm down. Apologizing to her, the nervous boy opened your messages.

You: I would love to come over. About time you asked. You: AHHH I can’t wait!!! You: See you in two days! ❤️❤️❤️

Though you sent him three messages, Sinju’s eyes were glued to the first message. He kept reading it over and over.

“...but ask yourself, is she doing anything out of the usual?”

Kei’s words echoed in Sinju’s ears. ‘What does she mean by ‘about time I asked’? Does this mean...she has been waiting for me to make a move?’

----

Sinju spent the entire morning jumping from one shop to another. He wanted to make the date night as perfect as he possibly could. After all, this was going to be the best night of your life as well as his. After nearly spending three hours picking out items, he returned to his home and began to decorate the living room.

Evening came around, and Sinju got dressed in his finest white shirt and black dress pants. He dabbed a bit of your favorite cologne on his neck and fixed his hair.

Knock. Knock.

Sinju nearly ran to the door after hearing the knocking. He took a deep breath and opened the door, "Hey, (Y/N). How-"

The words got caught in his throat when his eyes landed on you. Sinju slowly moves his eyes downwards, taking in your short plunging V-neck, spaghetti strap, red lace dress. No one told him that you would dress this way for the date.

"So? How do I look?" You asked, twirling around, causing the ruffle hem of your dress to lift a little.

Sinju quickly averted your eyes and mumbled, "You look g-great. Come in."

As soon as you stepped in, you were stunned by the effort your boyfriend put into the decoration. Candles were methodically placed to create a pathway leading to a petal covered coffee table. Amidst the red rose petals laid a dark green wine bottle, a pair of wine glasses, and a snack platter. To add to the atmosphere, Sinju had closed the curtains and shut off the lights.

"Beautiful..."

A grin appeared on Sinju's lips as he took hold of your hand, leading you towards the living area. Sitting you on the sofa, he opened the wine bottle and poured the aromatic dark red liquid into both glasses.

Once you were comfortable, Sinju turned on the TV and started the movie he had picked. A few minutes into the movie, Sinju's gaze meandered over at your legs. How he wished that your dress would slide up just a little more so he could get a glimpse of - he caught his wandering mind and forced his attention back to the TV screen.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, making him smile. He leaned over to kiss the top of your head when he saw an unavoidable view - your pushed up mounds nearly spilling out of your dress. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't avert his gaze. His pants were becoming too tight for his liking.

'Patience. Have patience.' He reminded himself, tapping his foot in a rhythmic pattern. You felt his eyes on you but decided to ignore it for the time being.

Then it came on - the scene Sinju had been waiting for. The actor and actress drew near, pressing their lips firmly together. Not a moment later, their clothes were flying left and right. Both of you were speechless as you gawked at their naked bodies melting together. You slowly shifted your eyes to meet Sinju's orange ones.

'This is my chance.' He leaned down closer to your face, eyes staring straight into yours. You eagerly waited for his warm lips, but instead, his nose collided with yours, causing both of you to pull back.

"S-sorry." Sinju had never felt more embarrassed, but your giggle gave him the courage to try again. Once again, leaning in, he tilted his head and met your lips.

The kiss that started sweet had now turned passionate. Sinju rested his hand on one of your exposed legs, not breaking the kiss, and began to stroke up. Rip. Sinju broke the kiss and looked down at your dress. His bracelet got caught on the lace and managed to rip a small portion.

'Why does this keep happening?' Sinju apologized to you, but instead of getting angry, you started laughing.

"Don't worry about it. Forget about that." You whispered and helped free his bracelet, "Where were we?"

Sinju smiled shyly and peppered your face with kisses while running his hand to your back. Not being able to control his excitement, he tried to untie the strings holding up your dress.

"Sinju, what's wrong?" You asked breathlessly.

"You dress is a little complicated to remove." His voice had a range of emotions.

"It's okay, take your time. Meanwhile, let me have a little fun." You whispered playfully and pushed him back on the sofa.

Sinju stared at you with wide eyes while you climbed on top of him, blushing deeply. Running your hands up his chest, you began to unbutton his shirt, wanting to feast your eyes on his muscles.

Being too shocked to move, Sinju ran over the list of things the members had told him. Patience, foreplay, pay attention to her needs, follow instincts, and mood. No one warned him that you would attempt to seduce him. No one warned him that you would be undressing him. NO ONE warned him. He was far from mentally prepared for this.

You stopped when you realized that Sinju was not reacting to your touch; instead, he was staring off into space, looking like he saw a ghost.

"Sinju? What's wrong?"

He shook his head and sat up with you, "N-nothing."

The room went silent. Neither Sinju nor you moved from your place. Everything was supposed to be perfect, but everything was far from perfect. Both of you were disappointed.

Not wanting to face you anymore, Sinju went to get up but accidentally poked the side of your waist, earning a yelp from you.

"Sinju!"

A playful smile slowly appeared on his lips.

"What's that smile for? Sinju? What are you planning to do?" You shifted back on the couch in apprehension.

Out of nowhere, Sinju dug his fingers into your sides and began to tickle you. No matter how many times you asked him to stop, he refused to listen. Grabbing a pillow near you, you began hitting Sinju with it.

Laughter echoed through his apartment. Sinju chased you around his home, trying to tickle you while you grabbed any soft item you could and threw it at him. What was supposed to be a perfect, romantic date night had now turned into a cute date.

Though this was far from what Sinju expected, he knew there was always next time.

#bsts #bsts sinju #blackstar theater starless

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writingquestionsanswered · 5 years

Text

Tips: How to Start Your Author Journey

Anonymous asked: My dream is to be become an author. but i dont know how to start... Can you help?

The moment you realize you want to be an author can be both exciting and daunting.Here are some tips and general information to help you begin your journey.

Things to Know

1. There’s Not Just One Path

There are many different paths to being an author. First, you may choose to pursue traditional publishing or self-publishing, or you may do a little of both. Even within those paths, there are alternate routes. You’ll learn about potential paths as you go, and odds are you’ll try a few different paths before finding one you know you want to stay on. Even once you’ve chosen your path, you never know when an unexpected path will open up.

2. Be Patient and Be Strong

This isn’t going to be a fast or easy journey. Most authors write, revise, and query for years before they are published. Even if you choose to self-publish instead of pursuing traditional publishing, it takes a lot of time and effort to make sure your first book is publishing quality.

3. Don’t Compare Yourself to Others

One of the best things you can do for yourself on this journey is avoid comparing yourself to others. Not only is the path to publication different for every writer, what happens along the way can be different for everyone. It doesn’t make anyone better or worse, or make one way better than the other, so never feel like what you’re doing isn’t right because it went differently for someone else. Follow the path that’s right for you the best way you’re able to follow it.

Things to Do

1. Read. Read, Read, Read

I cannot stress this enough. The number one best thing you can do if you want to be an author is read and read a lot. Read books in the genre/s you want to write in. Read books in other genres. Read adult books. Read YA books. Read middle grade books. Read classics. Read books that are super popular. Read books that draw a lot of criticism. Read banned books. Read short stories. Read fan-fiction. Read poetry. Read screenplays. Read graphic novels. Read comic books. Read essays in magazines and online journals.Read newspaper articles. Read EVERYTHING.

2. Consume Stories in Other Ways

Reading is super important, but so is consuming stories in all their other formats. Watch movies. Watch TV shows. Watch plays and musicals. Listen to story podcasts like This American Life, Serial, RadioLab and Snap Judgment. Ask your family members and friends to tell you stories about things that happened to them. As older family members to talk about their childhood memories and what it was like growing up in a long past era. Read non-fiction books about people and events that interest you. Watch documentaries. People watch. Listen to music. Pay attention to your dreams and keep a dream journal. Ask people to tell you dreams they’ve had.

3. Start a Writer’s Notebook

Find a notebook you like (or decorate a plain one) and turn it into your writer’s notebook. Use this notebook to jot down everything that tickles your writer brain. Interesting words, potential character names, interesting settings, plot and character ideas, snippets of dialogue, potential story titles, inspiring quotes, helpful advice... anything!

4. Start Learning Your Craft

There are all sorts of “rules,” ideas, and universal truths about writing, how to do it well, and what readers like and don’t like. A lot of it is opinion-based, some of it is tried and true. It’s super important to learn as much as you can. There are lots of excellent writing craft books you can read. You can find these on Amazon or at your local library. There are also lots of great web sites, blogs, and vlogs that offer excellent writing advice. Learn everything you can and put it into practice by writing.

5. Write. Write, Write, Write

One of the most unhelpful myths among new writers is that the first thing you write will be the thing you publish. This is because you often hear that someone’s debut novel was “the first book they ever wrote,” but that is almost never actually true. It may be the first complete, fully revised, properly critiqued and queried book they ever wrote, but there will most certainly be a long trail of half-finished books, short stories, essays, fan-fiction, stories written for school, and maybe even professional writing leading up to that book. No one sits down and writes something for the very first time, hands it off to the publisher, and has a successful book on their hands. That’s just not how it happens. So WRITE!!! Write a lot. Write short stories. Write fan-fiction. Write novelettes. Write novellas. Write half-finished novels. Write finished novels. Do NaNoWriMo. Do Camp NaNoWriMo. Do writing prompts. Journal. Just. Write.

6. Start Building Your Author Platform

Your author platform is essentially your online presence, your real world presence, and your fan base. Mission critical: a social media presence. Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter are the big ones. Tumblr is great for writers. Many aspiring authors have vlogs on YouTube. Blogs are also great, and many (like WordPress) allow you to make an actual web site to go with it. Create your pages, start engaging with the community. Share pretty graphics with neat quotes or tips. Share a little bit about your writing journey. Look at the social media of other aspiring authors to get ideas for the kinds of things you should be posting. When you feel ready, you might even choose to share snippets of your writing or short stories you write just to share with your fans. When you start working on a WIP that you intend to publish, you can pump up your fans by posting snippets, quotes, and aethetics.

7. Start Researching the Industry

Learn about the traditional publishing industry. Learn about indie publishing (aka self-publishing.) Find out how it all works. My post To Self-Publish or Traditionally Publish? will give you a little overview of both.

8. Begin Writing “The Book”

Eventually you’ll have a book idea and you’ll know this is the book you want to publish. So, get it written. Don’t rush it. Improve each draft. Get feedback from an alpha reader, critique partner, and beta readers. Make it the best you can make it. Polish it up.

9. Research the Specifics

You’ll actually do this while you’re working on your book, probably, This is once you’ve decided which path you’re going to take: traditional or indie. Now you need to figure out how to get your book, once it’s all polished up, through the next stage. For traditional publishing, that’s going to mean finding agents to query, writing your query letters, and actually querying them. For indie publishing, that’s going to mean finding an editor, finding a book cover artist (or buying a pre-made cover), finding a formatter, and looking at different publishing platforms like Amazon’s KDP, IngramSpark, Smashwords, etc., and learning about their process and requirements.

10. The Home Stretch

Whether you find an agent to help you traditionally publish, or you find a platform where you can self-publish, you’ll be provided with specific guidance from here on out. Your agent will walk you through anything else you need to do, and platforms like Amazon’s KDP will have guides that tell you how to actually upload your book, as well as information about what you need to have ready to go.

————————————————————————————————- Have a question? My inbox is always open, but please make sure to check my FAQ and post master lists first to make sure I haven’t already answered a similar question. :)

#writing #writing tips #writing help #writing advice #writing community #writeblr #wqaadvice

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mexicancat-girl · 4 years

Text

Inspiration

A MarcNath fic written in part for #MLPrideFest2020 and Pride month in general

AO3: Link, 5700+ words

...

It’s been a long day. But instead of feeling tired, Marc feels restless, and strangely energized.

After all, the absolute favorite part of his day happens after school.

Once the final bell chimes, Marc instantly stuffs his notebook in his bag with lightning speed. He gives a little wave to some of his friends in class, before he quickly makes his way out of Ms. Mendeleiev’s class and down the hall.

He and Nathaniel were going to meet up to work on their comic. They always met up Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and today was Friday.

Though, as of late, they were spending nearly every day of the school week together. To work on their comic, of course. But more and more often, they just…hung out. And talked.

A solid half the time, they went wildly off-topic and didn’t even touch their comic. And while normally the two of them weren’t much for talking, when together, they could chatter up a storm.

Marc’s pretty sure they’ve re-treaded The Great Sailor Moon Debate at least a dozen times already—in which Nathaniel firmly believed the 90’s anime was the greatest version of the source material, while Marc defended the Crystal reboot for it’s better writing. Nathaniel would playfully call Marc a heathen, while Marc would retort with Nath being nostalgia blind. Then the two would get locked in a stalemate, and finally admit that Madoka Magica was better anyways. Rinse and repeat.

It was just…so easy to talk to Nathaniel. Even when Marc would get flustered and stutter out a mess, because of his stupid crush flaring up, Nathaniel wouldn’t judge him. He’d wait patiently for Marc to finally get a halfway cohesive sentence out, absorb it, give it his full consideration, and then take the conversation from there.

It helped that the two of them were on the introverted and shy side, knowing when to talk and when it was just enough to sit quietly side-by-side. They both had similar interests and passion driving them. They sort of…clicked. Understood each other in a way they didn’t with others. They got each other.

It’s the biggest reason why Marc enjoyed spending time with Nathaniel. Though his crush undeniably played a part in it…

Marc startled, running into the doorway of the art class slightly. He didn’t do it very hard—just barely clipped his shoulder against the arch—but he still jumped a foot in the air and yelped.

“You okay…?” a voice asks, warm and familiar.

Marc feels himself flush. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” he gets out, with a bashful laugh, rubbing slightly at his shoulder. He looks down at an amused Nathaniel, who’s half-hanging out of the doorway, having managed to get to the room before Marc.

“Lost in thought?” the redhead asks, jerking his head to move his bangs out of face.

“Sort of?” Marc offers, hitching his bag further up his shoulder and following in-step with Nathaniel over to their usual table in the Art Club.

The place was empty, which was a surprise. They had Art Club on Wednesdays, sure, which was when the art room was the busiest. But their teacher always encouraged students to work on projects in the room if they wanted, so usually there would always be at least one person in here.

It was nice, though, having the room all to themselves. Marc certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Thinking up new ideas for the comic?” Nathaniel asks, sitting in his normal spot, Marc sliding in next to him on the left, as was per usual.

Marc lets out a long groan. “Not really…I’ve sort of reached a…a writing block, actually,” he admits while threading a hand through his hair, feeling just a bit ashamed.

“That’s rough, buddy,” Nathaniel says sympathetically, but there’s a playful lilt to his smile that catches Marc’s attention.

Marc pauses, and considers, his eyes narrowing as he looks over at the other boy. “…Was that a reference?”

“Dunno. Is it?” Nathaniel asks, much too innocently.

“It is, isn’t it,” Marc says, more statement than question, levelling a finger at Nathaniel. Who is looking all the more amused with the way Marc’s challenging him. “Which anime?”

“I can’t believe you instantly jump to anime. I don’t always make anime references,” the redhead huffs, voice just shy of a whine.

“Cartoon then,” Marc decides. “It doesn’t sound like something from comics, or comic-related.”

“I mean. You’re not wrong, exactly…”

He tilts his head, taps his fingers against the table. “Is it something I’ve watched…?”

“Well, I mean, I’d hope you’ve watched it,” Nathaniel starts, voice turning teasing. “Or else I might just revoke our friendship.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he chides, but not seriously at all, bumping their shoulders together with a roll of his eyes. “Just say it’s Avatar and go, you drama queen.”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner,” Nathaniel mimes speaking into a microphone, holding his pencil up to his mouth like a complete dork. “Local writer gets cartoon reference, more at nine.”

“Dork,” Marc snorts, giggling.

“I’m not a dork,” Nathaniel states, shoving Marc playfully. “You’re the dork.”

Marc feels his grin widen. “Yes, because I’m the one that quotes things like a total dork on the reg…”

Nathaniel gasps, shoving at Marc’s shoulder again. “Shut up! You do that all the time!” he sputters, indignant.

“I really don’t.”

“You quote Shakespeare!”

“Nath,” Marc starts, putting a hand on his shoulder, giving him the snootiest look possible. “All writers quote Shakespeare. Keep up.”

“Go and quote your Shakespeare, then,” Nathaniel says, dramatically rolling his eyes and shrugging Marc’s hand off his shoulder. “Maybe writing a soliloquy will help with your writer’s block, or something.”

“You know, that might not be a bad idea…” he admits, before scratching at his temple and smiling sheepishly. “But I don’t think I’ve ever actually learned how to write one.”

“I mean, that’s fair,” Nathaniel laughs, nudging him playfully with the eraser of his pencil. “Writing like Shakespeare is bonkers. Poetry’s already complicated as it is.”

“How is poetry complicated? You can literally write anything as a poem.”

“Exactly,” the redhead nods sagely. “You can write anything. That’s way too many possibilities.”

“You know what? Fair.”

The two grinned at each other for a few long seconds, only broken by the door opening. Marc jolts in his seat, whipping his gaze away guiltily from staring into Nathaniel’s pretty blue eyes. He’d always had a habit of getting lost in them, if he wasn’t careful.

Mr. Carracci blinks back at them for a few seconds, before smiling softly. “Oh! Hello there, boys. Just about to head out, so I came to grab my things.”

“Do you need any help, sir?” Nathaniel offers, already half-out of his seat, the art teacher waving him away.

“No, no, I’m quite alright. You boys just sit and keep doing whatever you were doing before. Don’t mind me,” the older gentleman tells them warmly, already crossing the room to his desk at the very back. “Just remember to close the door on your way out when you’re done, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Marc and Nathaniel chime together, relaxing in their seats once more.

The two share a look, grinning slightly, before they open their bags and start to riffle through for their materials.

Marc cracks open his notebook, staring down at the page full of scribbles. He huffs, cracks his knuckles, and picks up his pen.

------

A solid ten minutes pass, and nothing new is on the page. At least, nothing that hasn’t been instantly scribbled out in a fit of frustration.

Marc tries to sigh quietly so he doesn’t disturb his partner. Tapping his pen against his lips restlessly, he glares down at his notebook like it’s done him a personal offense.

Nothing comes out right. It all sounds…dumb. And clunky. And unrealistic. His prose is all out of sorts, too.

Nothing is up to snuff. It’s frustrating.

By the time Mr. Carracci is telling them goodbye, Nathaniel is already drawing furiously in his sketchbook. He’s so laser-focused, he only pauses to wave slightly at the teacher because Marc poked him in the shoulder and hissed at him to be polite.

Marc is the one that wishes the man goodbye properly, actually speaking and acknowledging him. “Goodnight, Mr. Carracci! I hope you get home safely.”

“You boys as well.” The art teacher smiles at them, warmly amused, and a bit…knowing, almost.

What he knows, Marc isn’t sure. But the sheer paternal energy from the man is almost comforting, when Marc gestures at Nathaniel with an apologetic smile, and Mr. Carracci nods back, eyes glittering in understanding.

The man leaves like he’d arrived: quiet and gentle, like a sweet Spring breeze.

Deciding he’s probably had enough of a break, Marc turns back to the daunting pages of his notebook.

------

He can’t do it.

Marc feels the distinct need to slam his head against the desk, but just manages to keep himself from doing it.

He doesn’t want to startle Nathaniel out of his muse. If he makes a ruckus, it might ruin his drawing.

Speaking of drawing…

Marc can’t help but be curious, leaning slightly over to look at what the redhead has been so perfectly enraptured with the past few minutes.

He blinks. And then rubs at one of his eyes, thinking maybe he wasn’t seeing things correctly.

He’s not, though. Seeing things.

Because what Nathaniel is drawing is… him?

It’s of Marc hunching over his notebook, pen against his lips, looking frustrated.

It’s a nice drawing. The proportions are all there, the expression is spot-on, and Nathaniel’s even in the process of shading it.

The only things that seem slightly off are Marc’s eyes and lips. His eyes look like they have more lashes than an old-school shoujo manga character, and his lips look way plumper than they are.

And—is that a little heart next to the pen pressed against his lips…? Or is that just some sort of accidental stray mark?

As Marc tries to puzzle that out, his heart thrumming in his chest quite suddenly, Nathaniel’s pencil stops moving. The lack of familiar scratching against the page throws the room into an eerie silence, for all of three seconds, before the sound of Nathaniel nearly choking on his spit replaces it.

The redhead all but lunges forwards, bodily covering his sketchbook, looking back at him with the exact same look of a deer caught in headlights.

Marc leans back and shuffles into his spot, face warming as he realizes he’d all but draped himself over Nathaniel to watch him draw.

Not just draw anything, either. Draw him.

“S-Sorry,” he stutters out, tripping over his own tongue. “I-I didn’t mean. I just. Um?”

He clicks his mouth shut, finding that words weren’t doing him any good. Nathaniel is staring at him with an expression of pure mortification, face steadily turning as red as his hair.

And then the other boy laughs, strangled and high-strung, and just this side of hysterical.

“I-I-It’s fine!” Nathaniel squeaks out, voice jumping an octave.

The two stare at each other for a painfully drawn-out moment.

“I, uh…P-Probably should’ve asked to watch you,” Marc admits, tugging self-consciously at a section of his messy hair. “Sorry.”

“N-no, no, it’s…Fine,” Nathaniel says with an awkward laugh, still hunched protectively over his sketchbook, eyes darting about the room instead of looking at Marc. Like a cornered animal.

Another pause.

“I-I, ah. Should’ve asked. T-To draw you,” the redhead says, slowly and haltingly, gaze now firmly on the wood-grain of the table, like it’s the most riveting thing in the world. He taps his pencil restlessly on the tabletop. “Sorry. S’probably creepy…”

“No, no, not at all!” Marc yelps, quickly waving his hands in front of himself. “It’s great! I-I mean. I’ve…never had anyone draw me, b-before, and…And you did an amazing job, so…”

Nathaniel takes a deep breath, seemingly steeling himself, before he peers up at Marc cautiously. He’s hiding behind his hair, in that way he does when he’s embarrassed or shy, but his uncovered eye gleams bright under the florescent lights.

“Y-you, um. You really think so…?” the redhead asks softly, almost disbelieving, and Marc nods his head so fast he feels like an enthusiastic bobblehead.

“Mhm! It’s amazing,” he says emphatically, with a bit too much feeling. Instead of looking weirded out, though, the other boy’s lips upturn into a lopsided smile. “I mean, I’ve always known you can draw people really well, considering our comic being based on actual real-life people? But, I guess it’s sort of…different? Seeing myself being drawn. It’s like seeing myself from your eyes, you know? It’s something wholly unique.”

He knows he’s gushing and rambling, but he can’t help it. Nathaniel’s art… It’s always been amazing, and it always manages to get Marc to wax poetic over it.

It’s just even more amazing to see himself in Nathaniel’s sketchbook, as a realized drawing, something so obviously bursting with energy and care. With both enthusiasm and careful consideration, somehow perfectly harmonious.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying all that to butter me up…?” Nathaniel finally says, smile widening, stretching out his pink cheeks.

Marc blinks back at him, taken aback and confused. “But…I always compliment your art?”

“Yeah. I know,” Nathaniel starts, chuckling breathlessly. “But, I mean…Most people compliment my art to get me to draw them, y’know.”

“I wouldn’t do that!” Marc retorts instantly, scandalized. “All artists deserve compensation for their work! I’d never do that to you, Nath. D-do you think I’d do that? Because I wouldn’t.” The redhead raises an incredulous brow at him, and Marc presses, firm. “I wouldn’t.”

Nathaniel stares at him for three seconds, brow still raised, before he bursts into laughter.

“S-sorry! Sorry! I’m not,” he wheezes through his giggles. “I’m not laughing at you, I s-swear. Okay?”

Marc feels…just a bit lost.

“O…kay?

“Look, I know. I know you wouldn’t do that. It’s just,” Nathaniel sighs, shaking his head, the movement causing his long bangs to swish in front of his face. He takes a second to tug them behind his ear, smiling that crooked smile of his, making Marc’s heart skip a beat. “I wanted to tease you a little. I know you’d never use me like that, Marc.”

The earnestness in his voice, the openness of his expressions, they’re as easy to read as a book. The catalogue of Nathaniel’s expressions is Marc’s favorite book, actually, no matter how weird and cheesy that sounds.

“I just…I guess I didn’t want you to get your hopes up or anything, of me drawing you,” Nathaniel says slowly, seemingly picking his words carefully. He taps his pencil against the table rapidly, a nervous tap-tap-tap. “I only really draw what catches my attention or inspires me. It’s a bit harder to draw on-command…”

“Right. That makes sense,” Marc notes aloud, fiddling with his choker as he realizes just how similar both their creative processes actually are. It’s no wonder they worked well together. “It’s…actually sort of the same with me and my writing.”

“Yeah?” the other asks, pencil stalling.

“Yeah,” Marc nods. He pauses, bites his lip. “I mean, when I don’t have writer��s block, of course.”

It’s a lame thing to say, a total cop-out. But it’s not like Marc can just tell him. Tell Nathaniel point-blank that he’s what inspires Marc to write, the most out of any possible subject in the world. Including Ladybug and Chat Noir, the literal subjects of their comics.

Because Marc means it in a totally non-platonic sense; that Nathaniel inspires Marc to write with all of his heart. And it would be hard to explain away as it being in a ‘friend way’.

So, he’d rather not explain it at all. Like a coward.

In spite of his total lameness, though, Nathaniel grins back at him. “Is that why you’ve been just sitting there this whole time…?”

Marc sighs, long and loud, and gently thunks his head on the table. “Yes,” he says shamefully, voice muffled slightly against the wooden surface.

Nathaniel laughs, a bright and loud sound that makes Marc’s heart squeeze in his chest.

“Ah, alright then. That makes sense,” he snickers, voice warm and teasing. “Guess I have your writer’s block to thank, then, for helping me with my own art block.”

Marc’s heart takes the time to do a bout of gymnastics, and he turns his head to the side to peer over at the other boy. “Wait. What? How?”

Nathaniel smiles back at him crookedly, tapping his pencil in a jaunty rhythm that sounds vaguely familiar. Maybe a video game song. “I couldn’t figure out what to draw, but I looked over and saw you looking so pent-up and frustrated, it sort of made for a good drawing.”

Marc stares at him, taken aback. The other rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “And I mean, you were sitting there so still…You made the perfect model, actually.”

Marc snorts, completely disbelieving. “You mean to tell me that me being stuck in a writer’s block actually solved your art block?” he demands, sitting up and turning his body towards his friend, who simply looks bemused. “How’s that even fair?!”

“Dunno,” the redhead says with a chirp and a shrug, a shit-eating grin unfurling on his face. “But I’m not complaining.”

“Well—Well I am!” Marc sputters out, levelling a finger at Nathaniel’s face. The other boy goes cross-eyed to look at his judgmental digit. Marc lets out a disbelieving laugh, “I ended up being your inspiration, and I’m still suffering over here…!”

“Alright, alright,” Nathaniel says, gently batting Marc’s finger away. His voice is placating, but his smile was still a bit too wide in his mouth for Marc to believe. “I mean, you were a big help, being my model and all. So, use me as your inspiration, if you want.”

------

Marc’s mind stalls, “So, use me as your inspiration, if you want” echoing on repeat.

It’s a flippant statement, but it still makes Marc’s face burn. He sputters, stuttering.

“Th-th-that’s not h-how it works!” he manages to choke out after a longer-than-necessary pause, turning and snatching up his notebook, hugging it against his chest and curling himself around it.

A sudden sense of deja vu hits him like a bullet.

It’s almost like when he first met Nathaniel, hopelessly crushing and too much of a shy mess to show him his writing.

He’s still hopelessly crushing now, but he’s also loosened enough and gotten enough confidence that he can show the other boy his writing, his passion.

But as he uncurls himself from shielding his notebook, it’s already too late.

The smile on Nathaniel’s face has dropped, the playfulness gone. Instead, his face shutters, replaced with an awkward grimace.

“Right. You’re right,” Nathaniel says stiffly, voice incredibly hard to read, but there’s unmistakable hurt in his eyes. He ducks his head, his bangs jostled from behind his ear, falling in front of his face in a fiery curtain to shield it once more. “I mean, you can’t write if someone’s forcing you… And it’s not like I’m an interesting subject, anyways. I wouldn’t make for good inspiration at all.”

“Th-that’s not true!” Marc snaps, without thought. The other boy jerks his head up, staring at him in shock. “You’re plenty interesting, Nathaniel! I’ve written about you before!”

Oh.

Oh no.

He did not mean to say that last part.

Nathaniel’s blue eyes are wide and gleaming like the sun glinting off the sea’s waves, staring soulfully at him, blue locking with green.

The moment stretches between them. Marc holds his breath. Or, more accurately, the breath feels like it’s been sucked straight from his lungs.

“You have…?” Nathaniel asks, voice soft. Awed, almost. He leans forwards, and Marc barely keeps himself from flinching backwards, stiffening in his seat. The other boy carefully places his fingers against the cover of the notebook still clutched to his chest, fingers splaying out to press his palm against the cover.

A siren blares in Marc’s scrambled and panicked mind, sounding suspiciously like the Kill Bill siren.

Nathaniel is touching his chest. There’s his notebook in the way, of course, but. Nathaniel is touching his chest.

Marc feels like he’s going to pass out. Whether from shock, blushing too hard, or not being able to breathe, he’s not sure. Maybe all three at once.

“Have you written about me in your notebook…?” Nathaniel asks wonderingly, dropping his gaze at the notebook in question, tapping a rhythm against the cover. Marc gulps thickly when the redhead looks back up at him, blue eye searching, lips slightly parted and looking very kissable right now.

“Pull yourself together, Marc,” he hisses to himself in his mind. “Do not kiss the boy.”

“S-s-sometimes,” he manages to choke out, voice squeaky, watching as Nathaniel’s eye widens and gleams. He averts his gaze, nervous and overwhelmed, clearing his throat. It doesn’t help his stutter. “W-when I c-c-can’t think of c-comic stuff.”

It’s a half-truth at best—barely truthful at all—because Marc pretty much exclusively writes about Nathaniel when he’s not working on their comic. Hell, he writes about Nathaniel even when he’s technically not writing about Nathaniel. Every romantic bone in his body, every scrap of adoration, is fueled through the dialogue he writes between Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Everyone’s praised their comics for having such realistic dialogue and fantastic chemistry between the main characters. What no one else realizes is that Marc pretty much writes everything ripped straight from talking to Nathaniel in real life, or from his own lovesick fantasies of what he wishes Nathaniel would say to him.

His sorry excuse for a half-baked half-truth is all Marc can come up with to not blurt out a full confession then and there and ruin everything.

“Can I read some of it…?” Nathaniel asks, voice thick with excitement and something else Marc can’t exactly name.

“Fuck no,” he thinks frantically and emphatically. “That’s embarrassing!”

The other boy bursts into raucous laughter, finally leaning out of Marc’s space, and the realization dawns that he just said that out loud.

God damn it.

Nathaniel’s head is thrown back as he laughs, the pale column of his neck on display and definitely the next thing about Nathaniel that will star in Marc’s future daydreams. Good Lord. He’s such a disaster, and Nathaniel has an unfairly nice neck.

Wait. That’s weird to think, right…? What is he, a vampire?!

Marc groans loudly and buries his burning face in his hands, no doubt red up to his ears.

“Kill me now,” he whines, while Nathaniel seems to laugh even louder. “Please.”

It takes Nathaniel a full twenty seconds before he manages to get himself somewhat under control. “B-But if you do, who’ll w-w-write about me?” he snorts, falling back into his laughing fit.

“Oh, I’ll write about you alright,” Marc says darkly, feeling mortified beyond belief, peeking between his gloved fingers to glare at his partner. “I’ll write your eulogy.”

“I-I’d be down,” the redhead wheezes out, clapping a hand on Marc’s shoulder. He wipes the tears of mirth from his eyes with the other hand, smiling wide. “I’m s-sure you’d write a bitchin’ eulogy.” He perks up. “Actually, maybe we could have that in our comic at some point! One of the heroes could fake their own death or something.”

“Sure, w-we can pull a Sherlock later,” Marc sighs, rubbing his face, the embarrassment barely receding. His cheeks still burn like a furnace beneath his fingertips; the pros of wearing fingerless gloves, he supposes.

Nathaniel squeezes his shoulder and jostles it playfully. “Hey, maybe you can write that scenario up for a future issue? It might be fun to see if we can fit it in later, and it’ll get you writing again!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll try it,” he groans, passing an irate hand through his hair, tugging at the dark strands. “Please stop man-handling me…”

“Sorry, sorry, it was for motivation’s sake,” Nathaniel jokes, but quickly lets his hand drop from Marc’s shoulder, respectful to a fault.

“It was hardly motivational…”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was.”

Marc levels him a flat look. Probably not as effective with a pink face, but. An attempt was made.

Nathaniel raises his hands in a placating motion, the motion decidedly cheeky when paired with the mischievous curl of his lips. “Alright, how about this? I try and tell you one last thing to inspire you to write. After that, I’ll leave you to it, ‘kay?”

Marc can’t help but feel a bit suspicious, raising a pointed brow at the other’s suggestion. “Really…?”

“Really,” the redhead nods.

“And this’ll be an actual inspirational statement…?”

“Hm. Well.” A pause. “I’d hope so?”

“Hmmmmm,” Marc hums, tapping at his chin. “I guess that’d be fine?”

So long as it was something to help distract Nathaniel from his huge slip-up, he was down for it.

“If you’re going to quote an anime theme song at me, I might reconsider, though,” Marc says in teasing warning, lips twitching into a grin.

The other pouts spectacularly at him, and Marc fights down a giggle at how ridiculously adorable he looks. “Ye of so little faith, Marc. Maybe I won’t say it after all—”

“No, no, please! Don’t stop because of me,” he says, giggling a bit and setting his notebook aside, carefully closed. “I’m all ears. Really.”

“Alright,” Nathaniel drawls out, blue eyes glittering.

And then he’s leaning in again, one arm propped on the table for balance, before Marc can say another word.

Nathaniel has a boyish grin on his face, lopsided and toothy, eyes half-lidded and piercing. It’s confident—bordering on flirtatious—an expression that seems nearly uncharacteristic for someone like Nathaniel.

But he makes it work.

Oh, does he make it work.

Marc’s face feels like it’s on fire, and his heart is back doing some complicated gymnastics routine. There’s about a foot of space between them, and the distance is steadily diminishing as Nathaniel leans in, closer and closer.

Marc’s breath stutters out, sounding shallow to his own ears, while his pulse skyrockets.

They’re nearly nose-to-nose by the time Marc wonders if he should be closing his eyes or not—because this is a kiss, right? How can it be anything else?—and then Nathaniel completely diverts his course.

Nathaniel’s silky hair flutters and brushes just slightly against the side of Marc’s cheek. He can feel the other’s breath puffing against his ear, and fights down a full-body shiver, nerves alighting all at once.

The redhead whispers right in Marc’s ear, “Start writing, or you’re straight.”

Marc sputters and wheezes, rearing his head back, feeling like Nathaniel had decided to sock him in the stomach instead of whatever the hell that was.

He gapes, mouth working frantically and only spilling out stuttered gibberish.

Nathaniel waits him out for a full five seconds, eyes bright, before he starts to snicker.

“N-Nathaniel,” he ends up whisper-yelling through a wheeze, which only sets off the boy in question. He finally backs away from Marc, out of his personal space, and starts cackling.

“I—Why—I c-can’t believe you,” he hisses, swatting at Nathaniel, who seems to cackle even harder. The redhead only makes a minimal effort to shield himself, too caught up in his mirth.

“S-s-straight Marc,” wheezes the redhead through his laughter, tears streaming down his face, his voice no longer capable of forming words afterwards.

“H-How dare you. I’m a proud heterophobe—” Nathaniel doubles over, clutching at his stomach. “—a-and I will not stand for this forced straight narrative.”

The other boy nearly falls off the bench. Marc—because he is a good friend, who cares for his dumbass friend-slash-crush-slash-tester of his patience—reaches out and catches him before he faceplants on the Art Club’s dirty and paint-splattered floor.

Nathaniel clutches at Marc’s token red hoodie, still absolutely hysterical.

“P-p-proud heterophobe!” he parrots back, planting his face on Marc’s shoulder.

“I was born Assigned Heterophobe At Birth,” Marc says, quite seriously, only to get a loud laugh all but in his ear in answer, for his troubles.

------

It ends up taking Nathaniel a good four minutes straight (hah) in order to calm down. Every time he seemed to calm down a bit, one look at Marc’s flat and judgmental look, and he’d rev up all over again.

He’s been laugh-crying so hard, even snot was leaking out his nose. Nathaniel fumblingly wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his blazer, and with a grimace and a mutter, Marc hands him a tissue before he managed to smear snot all over his own arms.

And yet, Marc notes with a long-suffering sigh, he still thought Nathaniel looked cute— puffy eyes and snot and all. He had it bad.

He hadn’t even realized his crush had gotten to this point, but, well. It has.

He was fucked.

“I dedicate my life to the gay agenda, and this is the thanks I get?” Marc demands in the closest approximation of iconic offended resignation, only to trigger a peal of giggles from the redhead. “Listen, if you die because you laughed too hard at my stellar gay jokes, I will not be held accountable.”

“W-will you go t-to my funeral?” Nathaniel asks, much too brightly for a boy who’d nearly choked on his own spit from uncontrollable laughter.

“Didn’t we go over this earlier? I’d write your eulogy.”

“Ah, r-right,” the other snorts, grinning dumbly, all wide and toothy. It was a charming expression, Marc notes with fond exasperation. “Your bitchin’ eulogy skills.”

“Yes,” Marc sighs, smiling in spite of himself at his dumbass friend, smile no doubt grossly fond and gooey.

He couldn’t help it, either. He was useless against Nathaniel’s dorky charm.

“So…” Nathaniel starts, finally seemingly able to breath properly once more. “Did it work?”

He eyes the other warily. “Work…?”

“My inspirational statement,” Nathaniel states, quite seriously, smirking in a completely infuriating way.

“You call that an inspirational statement?!” he demands in a hiss, all the while Nathaniel snickers evilly. “I told you to tell me something to inspire me to write! Not—not whatever the hell that was.”

“I mean. I personally think it was pretty inspiring,” the redhead says innocently, blinking his big blue eyes. The overall effect was ruined by his sheer cheek.

“It might’ve been for you…!” Marc retorts. He plays up his offense by placing a hand on his chest like an aghast French noblewoman. “But I asked for inspiration, not a threat.”

“Hey, it’s still motivational, right?” Nathaniel snickers, propping his elbow on the table and leaning in close again. Marc feels his heart trip in his chest once more. If Nathaniel keeps this up, Marc might just need to go see a specialist or something; his heart doing non-stop frantic gymnastics probably wasn’t healthy. “And besides, if you just do what I said, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“You’re the reason I’m a Professional Heterophobe,” Marc deadpans, which earns a bark of laughter from the other.

“Impossible. I’m bi,” Nathaniel says, so casually light and flippant, it felt impossibly fake. The slight tightening of his smile and the way he tapped his fingers restlessly on his arm only cemented this. “S-so. We’re actually gay solidarity.”

“Right,” Marc manages to say, mind whirring a mile a minute.

This didn’t mean anything. It didn’t. Just because Nathaniel is bi doesn’t mean he’ll like Marc back.

But.

It’s possible, however slight. And the chances are definitely higher than they were before, when Nathaniel had just been straight. Or not out of the closet yet.

The redhead’s entire posture has turned tense, fingers tapping quicker against his arm. He’s looking at Marc, cautious, gauging.

As if Nathaniel would ever have to be afraid of Marc, of all people. He was probably one of the most blatantly gay people at school, out and proud of it. He was also someone so ridiculously in love with Nathaniel Kurtzberg, he would never turn his back on him.

“Gay solidarity can only take you so far,” Marc starts, wagging a finger jokingly at Nathaniel. “You’re on thin ice for testing me, mister.”

Marc grins, trying for something casual and playful. The beaming smile he gets in return outstrips him a thousand times over.

“We’ll see,” Nathaniel replies, rather cryptically, but his smile isn’t dimmed at all by his vagueness. He shoves his bangs behind his ear, as he says, “Now, who’re we choosing to fake their death for later?”

“Mightillustrator, so Reverser can write his eulogy,” Marc suggests, half-joking, only to get a warm laugh and even warmer smile from the other boy.

“Can’t wait to draw it,” Nathaniel says softly, grabbing onto Marc’s right hand and squeezing it. Marc feels his breath catch, hand tingling from the points of contact. “And I can’t wait to read what you write about it.”

With the way Nathaniel’s looking at him—shy, blue eyes peering through his lashes—Marc lets himself smile shyly back and think, maybe… just maybe… the possibility isn’t as farfetched as he’s been thinking. Him and Nathaniel. As partners, and partners.

“I can’t wait either,” Marc replies, voice just as soft. It’s as if neither one wants to speak too loudly, to not break the moment, somehow.

Marc turns his hand over, threading his fingers with Nathaniel’s, and squeezes them together. Black-painted nails and black fingerless gloves settling perfectly together with a pale hand with bitten-off nails and wayward pen doodles on the knuckles and the palm lightly stained with paint.

Nathaniel ducks his head slightly, ears pink and smile wide enough to split his face.

Marc has to let go after a few seconds to pick up his pen and ready himself to write—he’s not ambidextrous as Nathaniel is, the talented bastard—but it doesn’t seem to matter. Nathaniel instantly scoots over on the bench, pressing their sides together, shoulders and elbows and thighs firmly connected.

Marc twirls his pen in his hand, looks over to beam at Nathaniel—who beams back—and then opens his notebook.

He feels like he won’t be able to write fast enough to capture all he’s feeling, this swell of emotions. Overwhelming joy, sweet fondness, a burst of giddiness, confused disbelief, a flutter of embarrassment, steady hope, and heart-thumping love.

He’s perfectly inspired, now.

So he puts his pen to paper, and writes.

...

#MLPrideFest2020 #Nathaniel Kurtzberg #Marc Anciel #MarcNath #NathMarc #Miraculous Ladybug #fanfic #pride month #mexicat writes

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mobius-prime · 4 years

Text

248. Sonic the Hedgehog #179

House of Cards (Part Two: Royal Flush)

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Jason Jensen

Sonic and Tails are still embroiled in their fight from last issue, with Sonic trying to convince Tails to stand down so he can rush off to stop Rosemary and Amadeus from doing anything stupid. Tails, of course, refuses, hitting him again, and Sonic angrily tells him that while he understands sticking up for his parents, he's not cool with this whole "punching your best friend" business, to which Tails simply yells that Sonic's had this coming for a long time.

Oof, this is even worse than we previously thought. Rosemary and Amadeus approach the castle's side entrance, and Amadeus is suspicious when the codes he enters on the keypad let him in without a problem, realizing that since they haven't been changed since his arrest this must mean Elias is inviting him in. Indeed, inside the castle we see Elias urging his wife Megan along with their baby daughter Alexis to take shelter inside the nursery while he deals with the revolutionaries breaking in. He quickly orders Nicole, standing nearby, not to wake up his father under any circumstances, just as Amadeus and Rosemary enter the room.

I mean, while you have a point, Elias, the city is hardly going to fall to anarchy the moment it stops being ruled by a monarch. Keeping the peace is kind of the entire point of a democracy. Rosemary calls him out, insisting he should listen to his people who were just calling for a reformation earlier that same day, but Elias insists he won't step down, so Amadeus draws his sword. Elias reveals two honestly pretty cool-looking short double-ended blades beneath his royal cloak, and thus, the two parties clash swords…

And speaking of a clash, Sonic has finally gotten tired of fighting Tails inside the jail, heckled as they are by all the onlookers. Sonic rushes outside, and Tails follows him angrily, and what follows is possibly the most bizarre and scattered string of accusations he could possibly make. He calls Sonic out for, in order: leaving him behind on a lot of missions when he was younger, teasing him when he talked about his own adventures (to which Sonic objects that he teases everyone), and finally not immediately breaking his father out of prison when he got arrested. Sonic is truly baffled by the last one, considering Amadeus wasn't even in jail for a full twelve hours, and then Tails finally screams out the real reason he's so angry - Fiona. Yep, that's right, he's still hung up on Fiona - or should I say, Ian is still hung up on using her as a weird plot point in Tails' character arc.

Okay. You guys already know how I feel about the whole "Tails loving Fiona" thing. It's weird and unnecessary and just doesn't seem to fit literally anything else about Tails' character. But let's assume for a second that it is a valid thing to be upset about and that the whole plot point isn't weird as hell. A ton of things have just fallen into place with his little speech here. Tails has indeed been acting weird ever since Sonic returned from space, and he and Sonic haven't had a single good, honest heart-to-heart about it in all that time. Things have been strained between them for a while, and honestly, I'd say this is even less about Fiona than it is about Sonic being careless and forgetting to show Tails that he actually respects him. He's gotten so used to taking Tails' devotion for granted that once things started getting tense, he didn't know how to handle it, and ended up settling on the less-than-healthy option of ignoring the problem and hoping it would go away. I've seen plenty of people point to this issue as a bad case of these two being totally out of character, but the problem that people cite always seems to be that Sonic and Tails are fighting at all, rather than what they're fighting about. And frankly, while Tails' initial stated reason for fighting Sonic - to help his parents overthrow the government - didn't make a ton of sense, anyone who knows anything about psychology knows that when one person is mad at another but isn't able to properly express why, those bottled up feelings can come bursting out in all sorts of bizarre ways, including many that don't seem to make any outward sense. And, of course, this can include blaming the other person for things that seem totally out of the blue - because that's not actually what they're angry about at all.

My takeaway from all this is that, again, Tails is not angry about the Fiona thing so much as that the Fiona thing represents a lot of what he has actually been upset about, and he's been carrying around these feelings of resentment that have been slowly building up for years. It's a very believable and reasonable reason for these two to end up butting heads, especially considering Sonic can be quite arrogant and self-centered at times, even without meaning to. In essence, what Tails is ultimately expressing in this whole outburst is that he's no longer content to simply be the forgotten sidekick who always has to take a backseat to Sonic's glory. And if you're wondering why Tails in the comics needs this character arc but not Tails in the games, that very premise is mistaken from the get-go - because he did get this moment of character growth in the games, just under totally different circumstances. Remember how the comics' Sonic Adventure arc never included Tails battling the Egg Walker or saving Station Square from the missile Eggman fired? In the games, that was a very important part of Tails' growth as a character - learning that he could be independent from Sonic and didn’t always have to rely on him or trail behind him, that he could be a hero in his own right. But that entire sequence was cut from the version of the story we got in the comics, and thus, Tails was still left as the sidekick, the little kid, the dependent younger brother without a family of his own. I would imagine that he had to teach himself a lot of that lost independence in the year that Sonic was missing - and it had to be jarring once he got over his initial joy at having Sonic back in his life, the realization that to Sonic, he was still the little dependent sidekick when he'd grown so much since those days. And since his life situation has so drastically changed even in just the last few weeks, all of these feelings have finally come bursting out of him in the form of siding with his biological parents over Sonic. With his above comments about Fiona and about taking away everything he cares about, the entire situation has just become crystal clear to Sonic, and now he wants to make amends, finally knowing exactly what has been bothering Tails this whole time.

But ANYWAY! While all that is going on above, Elias and Amadeus continue to battle it out, only to be shocked by the sudden appearance of a solid wall of nanites in between them. Nicole cheerfully announces from the doorway that while Elias told her not to wake up his father, he said absolutely nothing about waking up Sally, and that's exactly what she's done, with Sally glaring at the two combatants in stark disapproval.

See, this is why Sally should have been involved in the proceedings from the beginning. Outside, Tails has halted his attack after Sonic's words, uncertain about what Sonic is getting at, so Sonic explains himself.

There you go, Sonic. That was what he needed all along - a genuine apology and understanding of his feelings. Tails calms down once Sonic reassures him he's being sincere, and Sonic lightens the mood by joking that Tails has gotten too good at kicking butt for Sonic to want to continue being beaten on by him. Tails says he still wants to talk a few things out, but for now, they agree to team up, rushing to the castle to try to prevent Tails' parents from doing anything they'll regret. They're quite taken aback when they burst through the doors only to find Amadeus and Elias sitting down to a peaceful talk over tea, having agreed on a compromise. The government will be reformed into a combination of a democracy and a monarchy, with a council of six elected citizens being presided over by the king as a seventh member. This way, the people have a government that actually represents them, while they don't lose their monarchical heritage! That's actually probably the best solution that could have possibly been reached, and I applaud these two for having agreed on such an elegant solution.

Oh, Maximillian, so stuck in your old ways. Honestly, though, all things considered, I actually do not think he's a bad person. He's stuck in rigid tradition, but it was something he was indoctrinated into his whole life, and it's not surprising he'd be so resistant to change, especially after everything he's been through in his life. Remember, this guy can't be older than his mid-forties - it's not like he's some old and wizened ruler who has had time to process his life's experiences, he's barely halfway through an ordinary person's life span! That's a lot to deal with in a short amount of time. Outside, Sonic, Tails, and Sally watch the election take place, and Sonic asks Sally why she didn't run for a spot on the council, to which she slyly replies that it's likely for the same reason that Sonic didn't. I presume that means that she wants to have free time to herself to help lead the Freedom Fighters and not continue to be stuck at home, but we don't get a lot of time to think about that, because out of goddamn nowhere, Dimitri shows up in his little head-bubble and scares the living hell out of all three of the heroes, asking after Knuckles and warning them that Enerjak has returned…

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 179 #writer: ian flynn #pencils: tracy yardley #colors: jason jensen

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