#we don’t talk about this but the devastating their kid could unleash is hard to quantify | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sparkledfirecracker · 4 years ago

Text

Sunny Fall Out

Synth’s 5K Follower Challenge / How it started – How’s it going?

@syntheticavenger , again congrats on reaching 5K 😊!

Title: Sunny Fall Out

Pairing: Frank Adler x Female Reader

Challenge: Frank Adler / Babysitting Mary

Warning: Swearing and fluff

My blog is an 18+ only zone, minors do not interact. Don’t let the fluff fool you.

A/N: My second entry for Synt’s 5K follower challenge. This fluff entered my brain while working on this dark filthy twisted mobster story. Took a break to write up this fluffy drabble for the lovely anon who requested this for the challenge. Lightly proofread, so all mistakes are my own. ENJOY!

Pictures for moodboard found on Pinterest, credit to the respectful owners!

How it started:

Frank Adler, your next door neighbour, with his complicated character. He was your weakness, his toned physique, his hard working ethic and his devotion to Mary. Exhaustion had overtaken your body when Frank ambushed you. There he had stood; practically begging you to watch Mary for a couple of hours. Roberta being out for the day and he had no-one else to turn to.

You loved that little girl and wouldn’t — nor couldn’t — say no to an opportunity to watch her. Even when you were exhausted and all you wanted to do was catch up on some much needed sleep.

Hours had been filled with chatter, pillow fort building and currently; watching a movie allowing you to doze off. It hadn’t been long when your nap was interrupted, the snuggled up girl moving with impatience.

“How about we paint some nails?” You croak

“YES!” An exciting peep from the small human. “What colour?”

“We can check, there is tons of different shades.” You smiled, getting up and grabbing your keys out of your bag. “I’ll be right back, don’t burn down the house, okay?”

“I won’t.” A mini promise before you hurried next door.

Only briefly getting used to the comfort of your home. You grabbed the small basket with nail polishes and remover. Running back and settling back down in the homemade fort. It hadn’t taken you long to decide on a colour, pink with a glittery shimmer.

“Mary, sit still.” You chirped firming your hold.

“You’re tickling me.” The foot in your hand tried to wriggle out of your grasp. Loud giggles erupting from the small body on your opposite.

“If you keep this up you’ll have more nail polish on your skin than the actual toenails.” You giggle, hearing the door open and keys being tossed on the table with a loud thud.

Frank leaned his hands down on the table. He looked like he had a rough day with whatever he had to do.

“We’re painting toenails.” Mary gleamed showing him the foot we were working on.

“Are you serious?” He sounded aggravated. Mary’s face dropped at Franks annoyed words. Assuming she’d experienced a minor outburst from him before. You couldn’t get a good read on him and opted for the immediate apology.

“Sorry, I thought it might be okay, since it’s only her toenails -- they can be hidden.” Screwing the brush back on the bottle. “I should have asked first.”

“You should have indeed.” He growled

“Mary come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” The disappointed pout on her pale face made your heart sink. Getting up and holding your hand out for her.

“Thanks for watching her, but I didn’t expect to come back to all this girly nonsense and fucking mess.” Frank grumbled. His impatience growing when you weren’t moving fast enough “Just leave it and get out already.” His annoyance had softened when he spoke the harsh words, too late for an apology now.

“Shut up Frank, I thought it was a nice gesture.” Dropping Mary’s hand and pushing past Frank’s body. You turned around to look at him. “You just didn’t have to be a dick about it.” Slamming the door on your way out.

Large steps taken to your house next door, balled fists by your side while you mumbled angrily to yourself. Fighting the tears that were threatening to fall from being exhausted and emotional, clearly the lack of sleep coursing your body. A squeal escaped when you were tugged -- a little too roughly -- on your arm, making you spin around. Frank!

“Leave me alone, you ignorant prick.” You tried breaking free from his grasp, hitting his arm with your free hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t cut it.” You spat tears now streaming down your cheeks from the overwhelming tiredness consuming your body.

“It’ll have to do”

“It won’t and you know what,” You took in a sharp breath “You’re such an asshole you know that? I did something nice for Mary and here you come, barging in and being all rude and taking your shitty mood out on me. She looked devastated about having to take off some innocent nail polish. I did you a favour when you practically begged me to babysit her. It is just nail polish, Frank, not a full blown makeover to become the next pageant queen of the state…”

The anger unleashed onto him had made you feel slightly better. Before you could speak two large hands had pulled you in and enveloped your lips harshly. The shock made time stand still and then your thoughts recollected themselves at what was happening. Trying to push him off.

“I am really sorry,” Frank looks down at you taking in your features, his cheeks blushed. “I shouldn’t have taken out my rough day on you, it’s just -- it’s just Evelyn making life difficult for a second time ‘round”

You knew his mother was ruthless when it came to Mary. He had told you some small stuff, but knew their relationship was complicated. You’d seen her once and she made shivers run down your spine. She didn’t look like a pleasant person to be around.

Your face softened at his explanation “You want to talk about it over a couple of beers?”

“No, I don’t”

“You don’t want beer? I am truly shocked.” You feigned a gasp, clutching your chest in shocked surprise.

“I want the beer; I don’t want to talk -- I want to make it up to you.”

“For what exactly, Frank?”

“Being an asshole, can I persuade you with an offer of beer and pizza?” It wasn’t really a question, but it was a nice sincere suggestion.

You contemplated for a moment, you grabbed his face and risen to your toes. Pulling him down in your cradled grip and pressing your lips gently to his.

“Does this mean she can paint my nails again?” Mary shouted from the door. Breaking away from the kiss, Frank let’s out a grunt and you both turn your head towards the blonde girl grinning widely in the opening.

“MARY! Get inside”

“Play nice asshole.” With a giggle you slapped his chest playfully.

How’s it going – 6 months later

Your sundress clung to your body, yelping at the cold water from the exploded water balloon. You’re quick to grab the hose holding it in Mary’s direction, joyful shrieks filling the air.

“STOP! STOP!” She yelled, trying to fight her way towards you.

“No, you started it, you’ll finish it.” You laughed continuing to pour the cold water on her.

She fell down and let out a frustrated sob. You initially thought she’d gotten hurt, but when you reached her she full blown sprayed you with her water gun.

“That’s cheating.” You protested, you turn your head at the large grumble from the familiar truck you had been waiting to see. Mischief coursing through your body and you look down at Mary who expresses the same delight as you. “Let’s get Frank.”

“YES!!!” The exhilaration clearly visibly, jumping up and down.

Hiding around the corner you watch Frank approach the house, unknowingly, scanning through the mail. Mary runs up to him with her water gun and you throw some water balloons his way. Hitting him on his head and arm.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME!” Frank growled looking at the both of you giggling. “This is how I get welcomed home?” He opened the door and tossed the mail inside, before returning with a wide grin, grabbing a filled bucket by the door and running your way.

“RUN” Mary shrieked heading off, Frank followed in her tracks. Grabbing her by the arm and locking her between his legs. Her frantic movements were no match to his firm hold and she screeches when the cold water is poured down on her.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction. Frank whispers something in her ear and she nods. He lets her go and he waves at you, raising your eyebrow in confusion, but soon realize that Mary is running your way.

“You traitor.” You chuckle pointing towards Mary.

Running away quickly, sprinting around the house trying to dodge Mary. She launches her small body at you, hanging onto you like a Koala. It has clearly slowed you down and before you know it Frank catches you, securing you in his grasp. Mary let’s go and runs away.

“I missed you.” You muse giving him a quick peck on his lips, batting your eyelashes at him.

“I missed you too, but that cute look is not going to charm me.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips, pulling back giving you a devilish look. “We’ve got other ways to deal with naughty girls like you.” With ease Frank lifts you over your shoulder, you slap his ass animatedly trying to get him to put you down.

#frank adler #frank adler x reader #frank adler x you #frank adler x female reader #frank adler x y/n #frank adler smut #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #lilos masterlist #synths5kfollowerchallenge #lilo writing

207 notes · View notes

calisotamuses · 4 years ago

Text

First off, this is acknowledging one very important fact: Gyro Gearloose had no idea whether or not his gamble in Tokyolk with Boyd would pay off. He stood up on that platform, in between Boyd and everyone else (Tezuka, Fenton, Huey), COMPLETELY defenseless. He could have been seriously hurt. He could have been killed. But he tore down two decades worth of walls to try to reach out to this kid he thought he failed, and he just did the one thing he hoped would work.

Like, I reiterate: he had no idea this would work, and we know that the events in Tolkyolk two decades prior traumatized him. This isn’t even conjecture, either; we got to see the man he was before compared to the Gyro we know and love. But he did it. The same person hurt and failed both of them. Despite his own trauma and twenty years of stewing in that, he faced his past and won.

But most importantly, again: he got up on that platform with a half baked plan and zero idea if it was even a viable one. Boyd was coming at him hard and fast, and if he’d miscalculated even slightly, that could’ve been the end of not just him but a whole lot of people. And certainly he must have an override for the Gizmosuit... he built it, even if he “lets” Fenton use it. There’s no way he doesn’t have some kind of override switch.

Why didn’t he.

There’s plenty of theories one could provide, of course. Maybe he didn’t want to come off as a threat to Boyd, or wasn’t sure he could move fast enough. But the more I think about it?

Gyro is a traumatized man who was badly hurt at a concrete, known point in his past. The events of twenty years ago turned him from a bright, enthusiastic, optimistic young man into a jaded, bitter genius who constantly, clearly talks about how his inventions are not evil, they’re just misunderstood. His own mentor, in a place over him like he is over Fenton, abused his trust and hurt him badly. Him and Boyd. They were both hurt by the same monster that ruined both their lives, in entirely different ways.

And here he was, facing down against a possible repeat of his past. If he couldn’t stop Boyd right there, Tokyolk would see another disaster on par with the one unleashed two decades before. Thinking about that, about the devastation he witnessed first hand in his youth and realized could happen again if he failed? He’s traumatized. He’s tired. He’s scared. And if it happens again?

I don’t think Gyro was willing to live to see it happen again.

He wasn’t s/uicidal. That’s not the issue, even remotely. You just have to picture, this had to be terrifying. When this happened before, he had no knowledge of how to stop it. He could only experience events as they happened, and those events left a deep scar. I can’t imagine wanting to see that again. The fear in that one moment must have been immense. So he did the only thing he could. He didn’t make any attempt to protect himself, or recall the Gizmosuit to him to provide extra protection. He didn’t do anything that could’ve helped him if things went south.

Gyro stood on that platform, put out his arms, and he said what he meant. He waited. The gamble paid off. But he was absolutely ready to die if it didn’t.

#☢ hcs ; gyro #☢ meta ; gyro #/#//#///#////#/////#trauma tw #ptsd tw #death tw #Gyro is a deeply traumatized man and that's straight up canon hoo boy #this got SO MUCH LONGER than I meant it to I am so sorry

11 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 4 years ago

Text

Jupiter’s Legacy: Choreographing Superheroic Stunts

https://ift.tt/3vZfxU3

This article is presented by:

Stunt teams are some of the hardest working people in the industry. They literally put their lives on the line just to entertain us and yet there’s so little acknowledgement of their contributions. There is no Oscar for stunt work, but there should be. Netflix’s adaptation of Jupiter’s Legacy has secured one of the industry’s hottest stunt choreographers, one who is no stranger to superhero action, Philip J. Silvera.

If you’ve read Jupiter’s Legacy already, you know Frank Quitely’s artwork leaps off the page, splattered with intense moments of sanguineous bloodshed. Quitely’s graphic style is a perfect fit for Silvera, who says he’s always been inspired by the visceral violence of films like Goodfellas and The Godfather Part II.

“My action in the past has always had a bit of a lead pipe brutality to it,” confesses Silvera with a grin. Who better to choreograph the huge superhero brawls of Jupiter’s Legacy?

School of Hard Knocks

Stunt work has always been Silvera’s destiny. “I always wanted to do stunts, since I was a kid.” Silvera’s father was a boxer who was just about to go pro, but his fortune took a bad turn after he broke his arm and leg. Nevertheless, Philip inherited his father’s fighting spirit. After starting his martial arts training in Karate, Silvera switched over to a Shaolin-based system of Chinese Kung Fu, which he studied for about 20 years.

Silvera got his first break in 1997. He was competing in a martial arts tournament in New York City when he was approached to do an off-Broadway show called Voice of the Dragon: Once Upon a Time in Chinese America. It was a groundbreaking show from maverick playwright and noted jazz composer Fred Ho. Silvera describes it as “a bit of an urban Peking opera, really a martial arts ballet.” The show demanded he play a character, do martial arts, fight, fall, and flip on stage in front of a live audience.

As Silvera got deeper into the stunt world, his training diversified to accommodate a wider variety of roles. He studied Kali stick fighting and even trained with Cecep Arif Rahman (The Raid 2, John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum). Beyond his film work, Rahman is a genuine master of the Indonesian martial art called Pencak Silat. As a stunt coordinator, Silvera must keep pushing his training forward so he can meet the demands of his next project. “I just constantly want to keep learning different things and evolving.”

Silvera began officially working as a stuntman in movies and TV in 2005. You must work your way up to that director’s chair, and in the stunt industry, that means you’ve got to pay your dues and take a lot of hard knocks. By 2010, he got his first action and fight choreographer credit with Star Wars: The Force Unleashed II. That was followed by several coordinator roles on more video games like DC Universe Online, Batman: Arkham City, and Star Wars: The Old Republic. After an uncredited role assisting with the fight choreography in Iron Man 3, he received his first credited movie fight choreographer role for Thor: The Dark World.

Changing the Game

However, it was his work on Netflix’s Daredevil that caught the attention of both action and superhero fans. Silvera served as the Fight and Stunt Coordinator for the first two seasons of the series, and for action connoisseurs, he built a choreographic trademark for the show: the one-take fight scene. In Daredevil’s second episode, Silvera orchestrated a showstopping one-take hallway slugfest and every fan of fight choreography took notice. That scene propelled action in streaming TV to the cinematic level of big screen fight choreography. “I think most people would be surprised to hear that we designed that one-shot sequence in Daredevil in a day and a half,” Silvera says.

Silvera followed up that hallway fight with a one-take stairwell scrap in season two (an episode directed by Marc Jobst, who also directed two episodes of Jupiter’s Legacy). Hallway and stairwell fights comprise two of the three most common settings for extended fight scenes (the third being warehouse fights – there’s an innumerable amount of these in actioners because it’s just easy and cheap to find warehouse locations). Hallways serve as a device to narrow the playing field when one person must take on several opponents. The width of the hallway restricts how many adversaries can come at the hero at a time. Silvera’s Daredevil hallway fight is held in the same esteem as the epic hallway fight in Chan-wook Park’s Oldboy and is considered by many to be the greatest TV fight scene to date.

Stairway fights showcase technical expertise. The footwork must be precise because one misstep can result in a devastating ankle twist for any stunt person. Additionally, falling down stairwells isn’t easy. It requires top notch stunt people to stage safely.

Sponsored

Jupiter’s Legacy: From Page to Screen

By Rosie Knight

Jupiter’s Legacy Ending Explained

By Bernard Boo

For Silvera to deliver such high-level fight choreography for the small screen was groundbreaking. Until the rise of streaming, most TV shows were more reserved with their action because it is a longer haul. A feature-length movie might contain half a dozen fight scenes, at best. An action TV series might stage that many fights in just two or three episodes, with plenty more over the course of the season. This takes an incredible toll on the stunt team, which is why many martial arts-themed TV series gas out before the season finale. This is what made Silvera’s work on Daredevil so revolutionary at the time. Now, a half decade later, many TV shows have upped their action game, but they owe a great debt to Silvera and his team. “I really enjoyed bringing Daredevil to life. Charlie Cox was amazing. That was a pleasure working with Steve DeKnight on that show.”

Since then, Silvera has tackled several super powered action icons for the silver screen, like Deadpool, Terminator: Dark Fate, and the Jaegers in Pacific Rim: Uprising. Silvera has fond memories of sitting down with director Tim Miller while working on Deadpool and Terminator: Dark Fate and setting the parameters of superpowers in combat. “It’s always that they’re really good at this, but what’s their weakness?” The audience will accept superpowers if the film stays consistent within its constructs. For Silvera, it’s about finding a new challenge in every sequence. “What I try and do is always make it super relative to the characters and then make it so that the audience can feel something when they watch it.”

Super Fights

Spanning eight episodes in Season 1, Jupiter’s Legacy allows Silvera the space to stretch his choreographic legs. “I believe the action on our show pushes the story and the characters forward, as much as it does on any of the other shows I’ve worked on in the past,” Silvera says. “And I’m super excited to see what fans think of the storytelling, the nonverbal storytelling, that happens within our action sequences.”

Non-verbal storytelling lies at the very heart of every action choreographer. The fight scenes are the climax of the story and that unspoken dialogue of conflict must rise to that or else an actioner will fail. “Nonverbal communication,” stresses Silvera, “like The Empire Strikes Back, the scene that happens between Luke and Vader.” His passion for the Star Wars franchise led him to direct “Star Wars: Scene 38 ReImagined.” It was a reworking of the first lightsaber battle we ever saw – Obi-Wan Kenobi versus Darth Vader. Silvera spliced together footage from Star Wars: A New Hope with new fight footage. Doubling for Obi-Wan was Dan Brown (Black Panther, Spider-Man: Far from Home). Vader was Richard Cetrone, who was Ben Affleck’s stunt double in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. “Both are seasoned stuntmen in this business and have been around for a while,” adds Silvera.

“Scene 38 ReImagined” was a huge success with over 33.5 million views on YouTube. “That was a bit of a test for myself, as a second unit director and a first unit director,” says Silvera. “I wanted to see if I could add the emotional content into a sequence, that you know the character’s full story from beginning to end.”

From Comics Panels to Movie Frames

Choreographing superheroes has its own unique rules. A still comic panel is one thing. Setting that action into motion is another thing altogether. While comics are akin to storyboarding, when it comes to fights, a few panels describe that action. It then becomes Silvera’s job to unravel that into a fight with a dozen or more beats.

One of his favorite examples for Jupiter’s Legacy is the “Hilltop” sequence. In the original comic, it’s a ferocious battle told over only four panels. Silvera saw that raw brutality and constantly built on that mindset with his choreography.

“Those four panels really set the tone of our show and you’ll see that in the first episode.” He’s especially proud of this Hilltop sequence, as well as many other favorites. Two more sequences that he mentions with special pride he dubs “Tokyo Alley” and “The Vault,” but Silvera won’t elaborate on those cryptic titles just yet. “I don’t want to give away too much.” Fans who’ve already read the comic can probably guess what he’s talking about. “It starts off big and it stays that way up to the very end.”

And for those fans familiar with Frank Quitely’s spectacular art, Silvera adds “We do our best to match those panels and the emotion that he puts into them. He really set the bar for us. And I think we met it.”

Superhero Boot Camp

As with many casts, most of the Jupiter’s Legacy actors have minimal background in martial arts or stunts. However, Silvera prefers it that way. “You get to figure out their characters and their movement in a different way.” He’d have ideas for them and then see something natural come out of their body language, which he would cultivate into something new and exciting.

The cast was put through vigorous training where Silvera says they all worked extremely hard. “Literally a month of bootcamp with the lead actors training every day with our fight team and fight coordinator.” The cast would come in and work on basic movements and fight drills. “And then they would ride the wire for hours because there’s a lot of flying in the show.”

As Supervising Stunt Coordinator, Silvera is quick to credit his fight and stunt rigging team. Micah Karns is the fight coordinator and Jayson Dumenigo is the 2nd Unit Stunt Coordinator and Key Rigger, a critical role for a flying superhero show. The threesome has worked together since Daredevil and teamed up again for several successive projects including Deadpool, Terminator, Pacific Rim, and Love, Death & Robots.

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

“We have such a tight workflow at this point, from the years of us working together, that we know how to expedite things,” Silvera says. “We know how to keep up the pace. And we’re definitely doing seven days a week on this show.” The stunt team worked hand-in-hand with the cast for months to achieve the action that they wanted. “I’m super excited to see them and what they did come together on screen.”

The post Jupiter’s Legacy: Choreographing Superheroic Stunts appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3o84dlO

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

1 note · View note

razorblade180 · 6 years ago

Text

OC Test:Dilemma

Three scenarios will be presented and everyone will answer accordingly.

Question 1: Zombie apocalypse and you can only pick one companion. Who is it?

Yujin:Wow, wasn’t expecting that. One person huh? Are we talking World War Z zombies? If we are then I want Tenzen. Speed is everything with those freaks. Walking Dead zombies are a different story; probably may dad since he has a plan for everything.

Tenzen:So do these zombies still have their semblances? If so then I’m picking my dad. Dealing with that and grimm sounds annoying. Especially if Mrs. Ruby is a zombie. Then again, if I pick her then I really wouldn’t have to worry about grimm. Uhh can I change my answer hehe.

Jacquelyn:It pains me to only pick one but it would be Jael. Gravity is too good to pass up.

Jael:Mom has magic; it’s a no brainer.

Sienna:Jael obviously. Our mom’s magic would probably go to one of us and both of our parents would want us to live on.

Nicholas:There’s no choice that sounds perfect. My mom would be devastated about our losses which breaks my heart. Dad would feel responsible for everything and Summer..... *sigh*.........I’d pick her. Not just because we have good teamwork but I can’t really imagine life without her.

Summer:Nicholas for sure. I don’t want to lose him in my life.

Valerie:You said anyone? God of Light....

Everyone:What!?

Nicholas:That’s a power move.

Lucas:I know everyone is picking parents and friends for the most part so I thought I’d try something a little more out the box. However if I did then my mom since living in harsh environments was sort of her thing. Outside of family I’d pick Penny.

Everyone:Damnit!

Tenzen:We were thinking too small!

Girl:Hmmmmm *crosses her arms* If I wanted to be efficient then I’d pick Penny as well. Realistically though I’d grab my baby brother.

Everyone:You have a what!?

Yujin:Why isn’t he here!!!?

Girl:Not that’s it’s any of your business but he’s four. All of this is above him.

Question 2:You have to do volunteer work of your choosing. Where are you going?

Yujin:Beach clean up! There’s too much trash that ends up on them.

Tenzen:Physical therapy assistant. Between dancing and my dad I know a thing or two.

Jacquelyn:Anything with the environment. Honestly I should be doing that anyway with my powers.

Sienna:Helping at orphanages or help reintegrate kids that have gone through trauma back into society. Guess I want to give back since I’m an adopted kid myself.

Jael:Disaster relief. From civilians, refugees, soldiers, anyone really. I just want to help people.

Nicholas:Remedial classes for students having trouble or are troubled. No particular reason other than it’ll be a change of pace.

Summer:Children’s hospital. Smiles go a long way in there; trust me.

Valerie:Construction sounds good; something that’s laboring but helpful. Yeah, I think I’d do that.

Lucas:I’d be a tourist guide through things like hiking and jungles. Having two sets of ears and my semblance would make it hard for surprises to occur.

Girl:I-

Valerie:Will we ever know your name?

Girl:......I would do security for someone important. Famous or otherwise, even protective services.

Valerie:Fine, ignore me then....

Question 3: You have 24 hours to live. How do you spend it?

Everyone:.......

Yujin:This got sad really fast. One day left to live huh? *frowns* I....I want to be held close; by my mom.

Tenzen:Put on my biggest performance yet. Something that will go down in the history books and everyone will remember. After that if I had enough time then....just spend time close to everyone I love.

Jacquelyn:Morbid aren’t we? Actually I know exactly what I would do; return to my home village. Fitting I should die there all things considering. I bet room is still intact for the most part.

Sienna:*ears fold down* Cry.....I know it’s not poetic or brave but I don’t think I could properly deal with that situation.

Jael:Cut loose. Finally just unleash every emotion I had in full force for the first time in my life. Might actually die of heart attack before the time is up if I do that.

Nicholas:......*sits down*.......fight grimm. A cities worth of them. From lancers to leviathans. Not just to see how strong I actually was but to hopefully leave people in awe. A story to tell.

Summer:Not sure if I would have the courage to tell my family; causing pain is the last thing I want. Maybe....I’d just tell them I was going on a journey or something. Then just quietly disa-

Nicholas:I’d find you.

Summer:.....

Nicholas:Don’t know how but I would find you before time was over. I’m not letting you face that dread alone.

Summer...*hugs him and tears up*

Valerie:Spend half the day halving the best ever with my closest loved ones then hopefully be tired enough to sleep the rest. Watching the clock is the last thing I want to do.

Lucas:See as much as possible before the end. That probably won’t be a lot but it’s the best I got. Better than going without doing anything.

Girl:All of you are basically conceding defeat. Don’t know why I expected more from you all.

Yujin:Hey! What do you expect with a question like that?

Girl:I expected strength instead of tears. No way I’m wallowing in despair. In 24 hours I’d try to stop me from dying; I would stop it. The only person who decides my death day is me. I pity anyone else who thinks differently or tries to get in my way. Defy fate and keep moving forward. If you do less than that then you weren’t living in the first place.

Everyone:......

Valerie:Can I get that last part as a quote? Would love to know the name of the person who said it.

Girl:The name isn’t important. Just know the strongest person you ever met said it.

#rwby #yujin xiao long #lie tenzen #jacquelyn frost #sienna frost #jael frost #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #val valkyrie #lucas belladonna #my oc’s #oc test

31 notes · View notes

knybits · 6 years ago

Text

A Murder of One

Chapter:

Summary:

Akiko discovers her own happiness within her independence. This comes to a halt.

Previous Chapter | Origin | Next Chapter

“I refuse.”

Shinobu blinks owlishly at Akiko, thoughts halting to a stop by Akiko’s sudden declaration.

“I don’t want a kasugai karasu.”

“You need one,” Shinobu smiles. Akiko can see the annoyance radiate off Shinobu but she doesn’t back down.

“I don’t care. Give it to Aoi.”

Aoi looks over at Akiko, face contorted into anger as she’s suddenly dragged into the argument.

“Don’t bring me into this,” Aoi snaps, and Akiko rolls her eyes.

“I saw that!”

“You were supposed to-”

“Girls?” Shinobu sings, and the two shut up, Aoi’s head bowing ever so slightly.

Lilac turns to amber, and Shinobu allows a sigh to pass from her lips. Akiko looks unwavering from her decision, jaw set and a different spark in her eyes. For some reason, Shinobu can guess the spark.

Fear.

“Akiko, you understand that this crow is supposed to tell you, personally, the status of the incoming patient. That way you have time to prepare. This allows you to become more independent from Aoi and the other girls.”

Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo look at Akiko with an unsure expression. They’re fine with helping Akiko, but one look from Shinou and they know to stay quiet. Kanon sits with the girls, mindlessly braiding and tying their hair for the day.

“I… I know this…” Akiko grasps her right eye, biting down onto her lips as her shoulders tire at being so tense. She’s far too exhausted to raise her voice, and Shinobu has to strain to hear what Akiko says next.

“But they’re cursed…”

Akiko leaves the room with a compromise.

Her kasugai karasu is to never be in the same room as Akiko, and will crow its message. If Akiko needs a message sent, Aoi will be the one to tell the crow.

No one ones how this will play out, since there are so many loopholes to work around, but Akiko is willing to accept it for now.

---

“How many girls have you killed?!”

Tanjirou’s ink black blade points threateningly at the demon's throat, but the smell of rotten oil nags at him.

“Listen! If women live any longer, they turn ugly and start tasting like crap! So, we killed them for their own good!!” It yells back, focusing on regenerating its arms back.

Anger courses through Tanjirou, the face of his smiling fiancée flashing through his mind briefly.

“You should be thankful to us demons-”

The last straw.

Tanjirou lashes out, a shadow cast over his face as he runs his blade clean across the demon’s mouth. Blood pours out like a running faucet, but the heaviness in Tanjirou’s heart doesn’t fade away.

Just the idea of Akiko getting eaten alive because a demon like this one doesn’t want her to taste bad… He can’t stand for this.

Tanjirou doesn’t receive much information on Muzan, and he’s quick to finish the job. The demon is quick to dissolve and a sleeping Nezuko is gently placed back into the box before Tanjirou checks on Kazumi next.

“Kazumi-san? Are you alright?” He asks delicately, crouching down to the tired man.

Tears bubble out of Kazumi’s eyes at the realization of what’s happened within the night, “I’ve lost my fiancée. How can I be alright?”

He can smell the mourning from Kazumi, and again Akiko clouds his mind. For his first mission, he’s finding too many things to connect himself with.

“Kazumi-san… No matter how many people you may lose, you have no choice but to go on living. No matter how devastating the blows may be.”

The smell of fury comes forth, but there’s still the smell of sadness that brings Tanjirou to allow for Kazumi to grab him.

“What do you know?! A kid like you?!” He lashes out, mind wild and no clear thought running through his head.

But he feels dirty hands touch his own, soft and gentle but worn with bumps and scars and cuts. Kazumi can’t place a specific feeling to the hands, as they work like water to remove Kazumi’s hands from the green haori.

It’s Tajirou’s face that says it all.

And Kazumi understands.

‘You went through the same thing too?’

---

“Large anterior abrasion to the upper right extremity proximal to the elbow!”

Akiko flinches at her crow, waiting for the sound of beating wings to confirm that it's gone before rushing to the front gate to greet the patient.

She smiles when she sees a familiar kakushi, their dull eyes a familiar sight (for Akiko, at least.)

“Goto! Good, you’re the one that brought the patient,” she smiles, and Goto looks at her wearily.

He’s the kakushi that Akiko yelled at during her test two weeks ago, but he’s quick to shape up and now makes sure to do everything that Akiko says. She’s grateful that he didn’t take her harsh words to heart, and always offers him tea when he arrives with patients.

She ushers the kakushi in and he follows after, led to the medical ward and helps to lay the patient onto a bed.

“Not the operating room?” Goto asks, and Akiko rolls her eyes.

“He’s lost a pint of blood at most. He’s fine. Even Sumi could patch him up,” she digresses, and Goto weakly nods his head in understanding.

Naho is called over instead, and Akiko decides to have tea with Goto, listening to him talk about how terrifying the pillars are and how some of the other kakushi are getting on his nerves.

“Akiko?”

Goto jumps 12 feet into the air before setting his cup of tea down, bowing low enough to slam his forehead into the floorboards, then high tails it out of the Butterfly Estate.

Akiko sighs in defeat at Shinobu before smiling anyhow, finding the show to be entertaining despite losing company.

“Yes?” Akiko asks and Shinobu ushers her to follow behind. Akiko stands from the engawa, and is surprised to see a swordsmith standing by the front entrance.

They wear a hyottoko mask and a blue kimono, different from Shinobu’s usual swordsmith. Akiko looks over at Shinobu curiously, eyebrow raised and her hands fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves.

“Who’s this?”

“Your swordsmith!”

“Hah?”

Akiko doesn’t believe that she has her own swordsmith now. It doesn’t sink in until her swordsmith sits in front of her, drinking tea under their mask and placing a leather bag in front of Akiko.

“Are you sure you haven’t mistaken me for Kanao?” Akiko asks again, and the swordsmith sighs.

“Just open the bag, yeah?”

She stares at it tentatively, not sure how to react. She’s not a swordsman, and doesn’t know how to use breaths. So there’s no way there’s a katana in here. But judging by the bag, Akiko assumes there’s there’s more than one thing in the bag.

And it reminds her of her dad.

“This… This is a physician’s bag. But I’m not a physician.”

The swordsmith looks at Shinobu, and Akiko can tell that they’re looking at her with a completely done expression.

So Akiko humors her swordsmith, finally opening the bag and peering inside.

A bone saw, pliers, a container of stitching needles, a bamboo roll with neatly lined scalpels, syringes and more are piled into the bag. The clean shine of the new tools reflect in Akiko’s eyes, and Shinobu feels much happier knowing that Akiko is brought to tears-

“Hey don’t cry on them!! They’ll rUST- STOP!! STOP YOUR TSUGUKO! SHE’S RUINING MY WORK!!”

---

“-signed, Kamado Tanjirou.”

Higuchi looks at the 84th letter she’s received before thoughtlessly tossing the letter into the fire.

“That boy just doesn’t know when to give up…”

---

Akiko continues on for the next year, seasons fading into the next and time seeming to blur as it brushes past her.

Kanon spends less time in the kitchen, finishing the day’s worth of food before leaving the Butterfly Estate to Giyuu’s house before returning before night fall to watch after her brother for the rest of her night.

Akiko doesn’t like the idea of Kanon spending her time with Giyuu, but Kanon looks happier, so Akiko can’t do much about that.

On the rare occasion that Kanao comes back to the estate with injuries, Akiko takes the time to talk to her more. Sure, they talk, but there isn’t much to talk about.

They normally spend their days together blowing bubbles, Akiko watching Kanao perform full concentration breathing and unleashing forms against test dummies.

When there are no patients, Akiko walks into town to talk to villagers and buy supplies. They aren’t the same villagers she grew up with, but they have their own charm and Akiko makes herself feel at home with them.

She knows which shop has the best udon (though she’d never admit it out loud) and she knows the usual gossip. They’ll remind her to go home before the sun sets, and she’ll walk back to the estate with a small trinket or two she bought for herself.

Her life is easy, despite the fact that she plunges her hands into bodies and moves organs, mend broken bones and prevent soldiers from drowning in their blood every other day.

She’d invite kakushi into the estate when they bring in soldiers that don’t need a table and they’d talk while eating rice crackers and drinking green tea.

Sometimes, the kakushi bring their own snacks because they can tell what a bad wound is from a not so bad one, and know that they’ll be spending the rest of their day talking to the resident physician.

For the first time in three years, Akiko goes back to Tokyo to spend her New Years with her parents.

They hug their little girl upon her arrival, and their hearts melt to see that Akiko is wearing a white blouse and blue hakama rather than a black kimono. She smiles in the house and eats food that’s given to her.

Hiratsuka takes her Asakusa to shop, and Ray has her help in the hospital.

Spending time together helps them to forget their loss, and Akiko has both western and japanese clothes to take back to the estate.

Ray is beyond impressed with her work at the hospital. He allows her a patient and observes silently, not needing the help of other nurses and handing the patient differently than he would, but wasting no time and saving their life with eloquence.

“You seem to be doing well at that school,”Ray smiles at his daughter during their lunch break.

It’s hard for Ray to believe that she’s 16 now, her bratty attitude lessened since three years prior. Now Akiko sits with her back straight and a pleasant smile on her face, leading conversations and laughing as she jokes around with people.

Akiko nods her head, “I’ve been learning a lot there.”

“I suppose this means you’ll continue your studies there?”

She merely smiles before leaving the hospital to join her mother at Akihabara, the two out and about till the moon is high in the sky.

But New Years comes and goes, and Akiko has to leave after only staying for two weeks.

Hiratsuka fixes Akiko’s hakama for her, patting away imaginary dust and choosing Akiko’s earrings for the day. Akiko tries to brush her mother’s hands away, but Hiratsuka is insistent on dressing her daughter up.

“You haven’t forgotten anything, right? Where’s that yellow dress we bought yesterday? Also, I know you bought that flapper dress the other day but you better not wear it.”

Akiko rolls her eyes at her mother, “Can I go now? I have patients to get back to.”

Hiratsuka pouts, patting Akiko’s cheek with tearful eyes and Akiko feels bad. Ray places a hand on his wife before offering Akiko a smile.

“I know dear. You’re all important now, aren’t you? Mommy’s just worried… Strange things have been happening around here… Just last week in Asakusa-!”

“Mom,” Akiko interrupts, “You have to stop listening to the gossip around here. Nothing strange is going on, okay? I love you, but I have to go.”

And with those words, Akiko climbs into the family’s Model-T before leaving Tokyo.

A few months fly by and Aoi comes back home from Final Selection, passing just like Kanao did a year prior. But her drive to kill demons is low, and Shinobu allows Aoi to remain by Akiko’s side and focus on medicine.

“A large amount of soldiers!” Akiko hears her crow and she still flinches even a year after receiving it.

Sumi understands to prepare all available rooms, Naho orders Akiko’s crow to go into town to call for more doctors, and Kiyo rushes to the supply closet to grab the ribbons. Aoi follows Akiko out into the garden.

The kakushi are much better prepared this time and one steps forward to relay as much information as possible.

“Ten or so demon slayers were initially deployed, but three more joined in later. Then, Kochou-san, Tomioka-san and Tsuyuri-san were called in. The three don’t have injuries. A demon slayer was sent to the Ubuyashiki estate, but will be coming in later.

There are more coming in that have sustained poison related injuries. This male is one,” Goto steps aside and Akiko is met with a male about a year older than her with shrunken limbs and tears falling from his face, mixing with the blood. His hair is blonde, which is unusual for a Japanese male, but his eyes are just as gold as her own.

“Kochou-san used this on him,” he hands her a syringe and Akiko hands it off to Aoi to start reproducing.

“Sumi, Kiyo, Naho, you three know what to do,” Akiko’s eyes quickly survey the field of demon slayers, recognizing familiar faces. Her eyes calculate the severity of their injuries and the one most close to death. She then points to one wearing a boar mask.

“That one. Table. Now.”

She spends two hours with him, helping with his crushed larynx and the deep cuts littering his body. He’s lost a massive amount of blood, but he seems to be knocked out for now. Akiko is almost impressed that he doesn’t stir from the pain of her needle stitching his wounds shut.

Akiko counts 14 dead bodies.

Soldiers that are brought in are more often dead than alive, and Akiko grits her teeth as her heart twists.

Too many black ribbons.

A day and a half passes by and most patients have left.

The boar man Akiko saved is laying in bed, and the male with blonde hair lays in the bed next to him. He always brightens up whenever Akiko walks in, but she can hear him scream at night.

“Medicine,” she places the cup onto the table beside him and he takes her hand, blushing wildly.

“You’re a goddess.”

“Just drink your damn medicine.”

A familiar caw catches Akiko’s attention and she keeps her head turned from the window.

“A patient with a dislocated jaw! Multiple abrasions scattered across his body!”

Akiko sighs in relief, pulling her hand from the blonde’s hold before scurrying to the medicine room to start making tea.

She mixes the pain killer with honey, ginger and green tea, placing the cup onto a tray before leaving the room.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Goto’s familiar voice sounds and Akiko finds herself smiling.

“Goto! You’re here! How’ve you bee-”

Akiko rounds the corner of the hallway and drops the tray.

The cup shatters and the tea splatters across the floor but Akiko’s body shuts down.

Cold sweat, shivers raking her body, the rise of bile in the back of her throat, dilated pupils.

“Aki...ko?”

Kamado Tanjirou, Tamura Akiko’s fiance, is breathing the same air as she.

tHERE ITS DONE. WE FUCKIN OUT HERE GUYS. THINGS ARE PICKIN U P

hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!! we’re past the anime now, so from here on out its spoiler land :,,)

thanks for stickin with the story! wonder what happens next 👀👀👀 my beta reader knows lmao (thanks @giyuwu-writings!!)

#kny bitty time #bittle's murder of one #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer #tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #tanjirou #tanjirou kamado

26 notes · View notes

mdelpin · 6 years ago

Text

It’s Not Always Rainbows and Butterflies

AO3 | FF.Net

This is the third entry for He Will Be Loved.

Look For the Boy with the Broken Smile

Tap on My Window Knock on my Door

Summary: Wendy shows up at Gray's window with the news that Gray has been dreading.

Gratsu Weekend 2019 Prompts: Destiny and Soft

Disclaimer: All Fairy Tail Characters Belong to Hiro Mashima

It's Not Always Rainbows and Butterflies

Gray woke up to an insistent tapping on his window. He knew it wasn't Natsu because he'd given up on locking his window a long time ago, just left it unlocked for his friend to crawl through when he needed to.

He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and quickly got out of bed to see who was visiting him so late. Wendy Dragneel was standing outside his window, and she looked terrified. There was blood on her clothes and she was crying, her body shaking as the sobs escaped her.

"Wendy!" Gray quickly opened the window, "What's wrong?"

"You need to help him, please!" Wendy wailed, "Something's wrong, he can't get up."

Gray grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the floor and found some shoes. His heart was racing, and his chest felt like there was a tremendous weight on it, but he kept moving, trying hard not to think about what he might find.

Please God, let him be alright. I promise if you just get him out of this in one piece I will get him help, even if he hates me for it.

He felt a strange calm descend upon him, "Is your uncle awake?"

Wendy shook her head, "I waited until he passed out to come get you."

"Where's Natsu?"

"He's in my room," Wendy sobbed, "My uncle was trying to… and Natsu he-- I begged him to stop but..."

"Shh, you know he can't do that," Gray picked her up and pulled her through the window, sitting her on his bed. He took a second to hug her hoping to give her some comfort, although he knew she was too worried for it to do much good. "Everything's going to be alright. Just stay here, I'll be right back. If my dad comes in..."

He paused for a moment to think about what he wanted to say. "Tell him everything."

Gray was done fucking around. It's not that he believed in destiny or anything like that but having Wendy be the one to come get him felt like a sign that things had gone far enough.

He struggled to control his racing thoughts, to just focus on getting to Natsu's house as quickly as possible. He exited out his window and began to run as fast as he could. Natsu had come to him in some pretty bad states over the years, to have Wendy say he couldn't get up was scaring Gray shitless. The distance between their houses had never seemed so far. He pushed himself to run even faster, driven by his ever-growing worry.

He finally reached the house, immediately noticing it had fallen into disrepair and it saddened him to see it, Igneel had loved his home and his family with all his heart, he would be devastated if he knew what had become of both.

Gray peered into all the windows, but when he finally found Wendy's, it was locked. He saw Natsu lying on the floor in a small pool of blood and immediately became frantic.

Gray ran over to the front door, praying it was unlocked although he would happily break it down if he had to. He worried Natsu's uncle might have awoken and part of him wished for it, he would love any excuse to unleash his anger on the person responsible for all of Natsu's pain.

Gray had to fight every single instinct he possessed to keep from rushing in, to get to Natsu as quickly as possible, but he knew he had to go in smart. He paused to take some deep breaths before turning the knob slowly, opening the door as quietly as he was able. He stood still, waiting for his eyes to get used to the dark before hurrying to Wendy's room. Her bedroom door stood open, and he rushed to Natsu's side.

"Natsu," Gray called out, his voice barely above a whisper, "Can you move?"

"Gray?" Natsu's voice was strained, and Gray immediately sought out one of Natsu's hands with his own, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently.

"I'm here."

Gray felt a squeeze in response and fretted about how weak it was.

"Wendy?" Natsu panted out with difficulty.

"She's okay," Gray assured him, squeezing his hand again, "She's at my house."

"I did it, I kept her safe." An impossibly serene smile bloomed on Natsu's lips. It softened his features and made him look so much younger. It was the closest to Natsu's real smile that Gray had seen in a long time, yet it filled him with dread. It felt like Natsu was saying goodbye and he couldn't bear it.

Gray kissed Natsu's forehead gently before studying him, trying to figure out where the blood was coming from and striving to stay calm, even though all he wanted was to pick Natsu up and get him the hell out of there, "Don't talk anymore, we need to get you out of here."

"Can't move, everything hurts," Natsu tried to smile again, "I'll be okay, get out of here before he comes back."

"I'm not leaving you," Gray growled in protest, "How can you even ask me to?"

"Don't want you to get hurt." Natsu's words came out in shallow pants, his breathing becoming even more labored. Gray was torn between feeling exhilarated at Natsu's obvious concern for him and panic at his rapidly deteriorating condition.

"Well, isn't that touching, the fairy is worried about his little boyfriend," Gray stiffened as he heard the mocking voice not far behind him. He'd been so focused on Natsu he'd never even bothered to keep track of any movement in the house.

Gray turned his head to see the outline of a man standing in the doorway. It was too dark to get a good look at his features, but Gray could tell that he was tall and appeared to be well built. The alcohol on his breath was still pungent enough that Gray could smell it. He was holding what seemed to be a beer bottle in his hand as he walked into the room and attempted to get closer to Natsu.

Gray let go of Natsu's hand and stood up, assuming a defensive stance. He was more than ready to fight if it came down to it. Gray held a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do, and although his Master had been adamant about using it only in self-defense, Gray had no problem making an exception.

This man had spent the last six years chipping away at Natsu both physically and emotionally, destroying everything he'd been and leaving only a shadow of his previous self, all in a bid to get at Wendy. Gray hated him with all his heart.

"Get away from him boy, I'm not done with him."

Gray bristled at being called boy. He could feel the rage boiling within him, urging him to destroy this man. To inflict on him a thousand blows, one for each time he'd dared lay a hand on his beloved.

"Stay away from him," Gray roared, his body a coiled spring just waiting for Natsu's uncle to make a move to snap.

The sounds of sirens cut through the tension in the room, and for a moment the man seemed unsure, but he moved forward with a speed that did not seem possible given how drunk he appeared.

Gray was already getting ready to push kick him when the light in the room was turned on, and as they all blinked to get used to the sudden brightness, a body rushed in and tackled Natsu's uncle to the ground. The beer bottle broke, spilling its contents on the floor and filling the air with its bitter smell.

"Get the hell away from my son," Silver Fullbuster growled, angrier than Gray had ever seen him. Natsu's uncle seemed confused by Silver's presence, and Silver used it to his advantage, quickly reaching down and grabbing him by his collar. He pulled Natsu's uncle up to a standing position and threatened him with his fist.

"Just give me a reason." Silver snarled as the man tried to shake off his hold. He shook the man roughly.

Gray was having trouble reconciling his mild-mannered father with this angel of wrath that had appeared out of nowhere to smite Natsu's uncle.

"What you tried to do to these kids...you're lucky you're Igneel's brother; otherwise, I'd have no trouble killing you." Silver spat in the man's face.

"Dad?!"

Silver ignored him for the moment, it seemed his anger was not limited to Natsu's uncle but he spared a worried glance at the boy lying on the floor. "Natsu, hold on son, an ambulance will be here any second."

"Did you hear that, Natsu?" Gray turned his attention back to Natsu, only to find him lying unnaturally still, his skin an unhealthy blue. He grabbed Natsu's wrist to try to feel for a pulse, but he couldn't feel anything, his own heart was beating too fast.

No, he had to be alright! He was free now, they both were. It couldn't end like this!

This time there was nothing to stop Gray from shattering, his tears flowed hot even though inside all he felt was a debilitating cold. He quickly grabbed Natsu's hand in his, seeking out the comforting warmth he'd grown so used to. To his relief he saw that Natsu was still breathing, although it was very shallow.

That's when Gray felt arms gently trying to pry him away, and he fought against them, vaguely hearing his father asking him to stop.

"You need to let us help him, son," A paramedic smiled at him kindly, his face blurry amidst Gray's tears. He let himself be led away while two other paramedics began to work on Natsu, speaking in a language too technical for Gray to understand.

Gray nodded, not really hearing the words but understanding that they could help Natsu. There were policemen in the house as well, and he wondered how all these people had come in without him noticing.

The paramedic handed him over to his father who immediately surrounded him in an embrace. "Shh, he's going to be okay."

Gray nodded once again, watching as the paramedics attached lines to Natsu's arms and put a brace on him, gently sliding him onto a stretcher. They rushed him off in an ambulance, and all Gray could do was watch them drive away, sirens blaring, before a host of policemen descended upon him, asking questions that were not capable of piercing through his haze.

It's Not Always Rainbows and Butterflies

"Wendy!" Gray quickly opened the window, "What's wrong?"

"You need to help him, please!" Wendy wailed, "Something's wrong, he can't get up."

Please God, let him be alright. I promise if you just get him out of this in one piece I will get him help, even if he hates me for it.

He felt a strange calm descend upon him, "Is your uncle awake?"

Wendy shook her head, "I waited until he passed out to come get you."

"Where's Natsu?"

"He's in my room," Wendy sobbed, "My uncle was trying to… and Natsu he-- I begged him to stop but..."

"Shh, you know he can't do that," Gray leaned out his window to pic her up and pull her through, setting her on his bed. He hugged her hoping to give her some comfort, although he knew she was too worried for it to do much good. "Everything's going to be alright. Just stay here, I'll be right back. If my dad comes in..."

He paused for a moment to think about what he wanted to say. "Tell him everything."

Gray was done fucking around. It's not that he believed in destiny or anything like that but having Wendy be the one to come get him felt like a sign that things had gone far enough.

He exited out his window and began to run as fast as he could. Natsu had come to him in some pretty bad states over the years, to have Wendy say he couldn't get up was scaring Gray shitless. He struggled to control his racing thoughts, to just focus on getting to Natsu's house as quickly as possible. The distance between their houses had never seemed so far. He pushed himself to run even faster, driven by his ever-growing worry.

He finally reached the house, immediately noticing it had fallen into disrepair. It saddened him to see it, Igneel had loved his home and his family with all his heart, he would be devastated if he knew what had become of both.

Gray peered into all the windows, but when he finally found Wendy's, it was locked. He saw Natsu lying on the floor in a small pool of blood and immediately became frantic.

He ran over to the front door, praying it was unlocked although he'd happily break it down if he had to. He worried Natsu's uncle might have awoken and part of him wished for it, he would love any excuse to unleash his anger on the person responsible for putting Natsu through so much.

Gray had to fight every single instinct he possessed to keep from rushing in, he knew he had to go in smart. He paused to take some deep breaths before turning the knob slowly, opening the door as quietly as he was able. He stood still, waiting for his eyes to get used to the dark before hurrying to Wendy's room. Her bedroom door stood open, and he rushed to Natsu's side.

"Natsu," Gray called out, his voice barely above a whisper, "Can you move?"

"Gray?" Natsu's voice was strained, and Gray immediately sought out one of Natsu's hands with his own, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently.

"I'm here."

Gray felt a squeeze in response and fretted about how weak it was.

"Wendy?" Natsu panted out with difficulty.

"She's okay," Gray assured him, squeezing his hand again, "She's at my house."

Gray kissed Natsu's forehead gently before studying him, trying to figure out where the blood was coming from and striving to stay calm, even though all he wanted was to pick Natsu up go, "Don't talk anymore, we need to get you out of here."

"Can't move, everything hurts," Natsu tried to smile again, "I'll be okay, get out of here before he comes back."

"I'm not leaving you," Gray growled in protest, "How can you even ask me to?"

He turned his head to see the outline of a man standing in the doorway. It was too dark to get a good look at his features, but Gray could tell that he was tall and appeared to be well built. The alcohol on his breath was still pungent enough that Gray could smell it. He held what seemed to be a beer bottle in his hand as he walked into the room and attempted to get closer to Natsu.

Gray let go of Natsu's hand and stood up, assuming a defensive stance. He was more than ready to fight if it came down to it.

"Get away from him boy, I'm not done with him."

"Stay away from him," Gray roared, his body a coiled spring just waiting for Natsu's uncle to make a move to snap.

The sounds of sirens cut through the tension in the room, and for a moment Natsu's uncle seemed unsure, but he moved forward with a speed that did not seem possible given how drunk he appeared.

"Just give me a reason." Silver snarled as the man tried to shake off his hold. He shook the man roughly.

Gray was having trouble reconciling his mild-mannered father with this angel of wrath that had appeared out of nowhere to smite Natsu's uncle.

"What you tried to do to these kids...you're lucky you're Igneel's brother; otherwise, I'd have no trouble killing you." Silver spat in the man's face.

"Dad?!"

"Did you hear that, Natsu?" Gray turned his attention back to Natsu, only to find him lying unnaturally still, his skin had acquired an unhealthy blue tint. He grabbed Natsu's wrist to try to feel for a pulse, but he couldn't feel anything, his own heart was beating too fast.

No, he had to be alright! He was free now, they both were. It couldn't end like this!

This time there was nothing to stop Gray from shattering, his tears flowed hot even though inside all he felt was a debilitating cold. He quickly grabbed Natsu's hand in his, seeking out the comforting warmth he'd grown so used to. To his relief, he saw that Natsu was still breathing, although they were very shallow.

That's when Gray felt arms gently trying to pry him away, and he fought against them, vaguely hearing his father asking him to stop.

The paramedic handed him over to his father who immediately surrounded him in a hug and let him cry on his shoulder. "Shh, he's going to be okay."

#gratsuweekend2k19 #fairy tail #gratsu #ftlgbtales writer #ftlgbtfics #ftfanfics #gray x natsu #natsu x gray #fuckyeahgratsu

12 notes · View notes

tilltheendwilliwrite · 7 years ago

Text

Rise Up

Chapter Twenty Seven

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader | Word Count: 5781 Warnings: language, creative license in regards to the gods of Asgard

Song: Soldier of Love by Poesy

Steve finished his tale for the others, ending with handing over the new silver arm ring to Bucky who took it with quiet reverence, a look of awe coming over his face when he accepted it and slipped it over his left hand. The group as a whole remained silent, the weight of his words seeming to hang over the lot of them like thunderclouds until (Y/N) stood slowly to her feet and walked away.

She looked utterly devastated, but when he stood to go after her, she raised her hand. She needed a moment. Still, he could feel the pain and confusion in her heart as she left the room.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, drawing his attention.

Steve pulled his gaze from his girl and took the small box his friend held out. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Hopefully that will cheer her up some. This is all kinds of screwed up,” Bucky sighed.

“It is that,” Steve agreed. He was having a hard enough time wrapping his head around Helgi and Freyja and all the rest. He couldn’t even imagine how hard it must be for (Y/N) when she had so many memories to contend with and the betrayal of her people now confirmed.

“You seem to have left out a few glaring details, Captain,” Loki smirked as he cleaned his nails with the tip of a knife.

“Loki, don’t,” Steve warned. He’d left certain things out for a reason.

“What?” He shrugged, playing the innocent. “You do not want it known the Captain is now a King?”

“What!?” barked nearly every voice in the room.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Loki. “Really? Did you have to?”

“No. But I wanted to,” Loki grinned.

“Wait! What the hell does he mean king?” Bucky asked.

“I, too, am curious. First Thor, then (Y/N), now you, Captain? Should I expect Stark to be next?”

They turned as a group toward the door where T’Challa stood smiling with a grinning Shuri and the stoic-faced Okoye.

“I would be Emperor, not king,” Tony snorted, striding forward to greet T’Challa.

“No one in their right mind would make you Emperor of anything,” Natasha mocked, earning herself a glare.

“T’Challa.” Steve joined Tony and shook the King of Wakanda’s hand. “Glad you could make it.”

“That you think I would miss the wedding of the Captain and the Valkyrie Queen shows you do not know me well,” he teased causing Shuri to giggle.

“More like I wouldn’t miss it,” Shuri said, darting forward to hug Steve around the waist before deserting him for Bucky who grabbed her up and swung her around, making her squeal.

Steve looked at Okoye who only shrugged.

“They made me come,” she quipped.

“You were as excited as Shuri was,” Nakia huffed, striding into the room. “You realize there is a large horse with wings grazing on your lawn?”

“He belongs to (Y/N),” Steve explained.

“Ah. I thought perhaps the doctor was being tricky,” T’Challa said, grinning at Strange.

“I take no blame for that creature.” Stephan held up his hands.

Nakia held out her hands, and Steve took them to give a gentle squeeze of greeting.

“Where is the blushing bride?” she asked.

“We’ve had some… disturbing news. She needed a minute,” Steve said softly.

“Nothing too distressing, I hope?” she asked with a frown.

“Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Good.” She smiled and released him. “By the way, we picked up a stray on the way in.” She turned toward the door as running feet sounded.

“There’s a horse! A horse with wings! Holy… holy… on the lawn!” Peter gasped as he stumbled to a stop.

“Hemme is (Y/N)’s,” Tony chuckled, patting the kid’s shoulder. “Just breathe, kid. If you ask nicely, maybe she’ll introduce you.”

“Really?” Peter sucked in air.

“Me too?” Shuri piped up.

“I’m sure she would. Maybe a little later,” Steve offered.

“Yes!” The two teenagers exchanged a smug, superior glance before they tilted their heads together and began chattering about… something Steve knew nothing about.

“So, what is this Kingship you speak of, Steven?” T’Challa asked.

“He retrieved the sword of Hurgid, first King of Sváfaland and greatest of his lineage, granting the humble Captain the designation of Hurgid’s true heir. He is a King and a Lord in Thor’s court.”

Steve shot Loki another glare. “You really need to shut up.”

“Refusing to speak on it will not make it any less true… your majesty.” Loki’s grin was wide enough it reminded Steve of a cat who’d eaten a canary.

“King of a crumbling castle and empty lands,” Steve huffed.

“Even so, he is still a King,” came the voice of Vision.

Steve looked at Vision who was peering at him curiously. “I’m no different than before, Vis.”

“Yet, you hold a power some would kill for. One someone has killed you for once before. The way history is repeating itself is… intriguing.”

“Seeing as how the Captain stands before me, whole and well, I wonder how he could have been killed for his crown? It sounds an interesting tale. One I would hear in full,” T’Challa said quietly.

“I’ll have to leave you to get the recitation from the others. My girl needs me.” Steve rubbed the heel of his hand over his chest, gave the group a nod, and left them all behind as he went to find (Y/N).

He’d barely rounded the corner into the first hall before a swirl of green and gold magic had him arching a brow at Loki, appearing out of nothing at his side. “Loki?” The God of Mischief stepped in front of him, causing Steve to stop walking.

“You must not be so flippant about who you are.”

The harshness of Loki’s features and the worry in his eyes gave Steve pause. “Why?”

“Asgard is not Midgard. There, who you are and from whence and whom you came is as important as the deeds you can count to your name. You are Hurgid’s heir. His true heir! This, in and of itself, is enough to grant you leisure in the halls of Asgard. Add to it the… reputation you already have as one of Thor’s closest allies and a man he claims confidant, and you will garner many who seek to be your friend. Not all will do so with the best of intentions. It is a court, after all. Those who know and are seen with you will gain prestige. They will seek to ingratiate themselves with you to gain closer ties with Thor as well as access to the Valkyrie Queen. Watch your back, Captain.”

“What did Hurgid do that was so all-fired important? This?” Steve shook the sword in his hand. “It’s like holding a galaxy in my fist when I drew it the first time. So much power. Even now I can hear it whisper like a voice, ancient, wise, trying to tell and teach me things. Who the hell was this Hurgid that he’d have something like this?”

Loki motioned toward an empty room, and Steve followed even as he ached to go after his girl. These were things he needed to know, and Freyja had said he could trust Loki, even if it felt counterintuitive.

“What I tell you is known to me only via tales told at Odin’s knee. Hurgid was gone from Asgard before my birth.”

Steve frowned. “He's not in Valhalla? The way everyone talks about him, you'd think he'd been granted a seat.”

“All part of the tale I was told if you'd but listen. Time grows short, Captain. Keep your interruptions to a minimum.” Loki cast him a hard glance of warning before continuing. “Hurgid was a man like any other in his youth. Born to a simple family of farmers, it became clear as he grew older he was… special. Not all of us are born Gods. Many on Asgard are no different than the people of Earth. Some live longer lives, others your standard one hundred. It simply depends on bloodlines and realm of origin.

Hurgid, it seemed, was far more Asgardian than whatever his native land - now lost to time - had been, for he grew in strength as he aged, his looks pleasing, his prowess in both swordplay and… other pleasures becoming the thing of legends.”

Loki smirked, but Steve ignored his insinuation and waved him to continue.

“Hurgid travelled the land, seeking his fortune when Father was still young. Yet retaining both eyes, Odin rode with Ve and Vili, his brothers as he began his campaign through the realms to gather them under his mantle. It was when his brothers decided it would be better for themselves to be king of all the realms that father met Hurgid.

A giant boar had been unleashed to terrorize the people, created by Ve and Vili to draw Odin in. They went with him in good faith to kill the beast, but instead, left father to face it alone in its savagery. He fought the creature for a night and a day before it knocked him down and away from his spear.

Hurgid had also heard tell of the giant beast rampaging through the land and had come to test his prowess when the noise of Odin’s battle came to his ear. He approached cautiously, unaware of just who it was who fought so fiercely over the ridge. It was as Odin was taking his flight through the trees that Hurgid arrived upon the scene.

Father said Hurgid came out of nowhere, appearing at a run to swoop down, pick up Odin’s mighty spear, and plunge it into the board’s eye before Odin could be killed. Wounded in the battle, father was no match for Ve and Vili, so Hurgid hid him for three days as his brothers searched the forests, rocks, and caves of the land. When they came upon Hurgid sitting before his fire, they dismissed him as a peasant even as he spared with them verbally, offering meat and bread, and what mead he had left, keeping them distracted from looking too deep into the shadows of his cave.

They denied him and continued to search, only to return twice more. The third day when they returned the final time, Odin was fit and healed, sitting at Hurgid’s fire, covered in his cloak, appearing as nothing but an old man. His brothers paid him no mind and began to harass Hurgid, calling him a liar for the trail of blood Odin had had his ravens hide was suddenly clear and led directly to Hurgid’s cave.

Hurgid became offended at this. After offering them hospitality and a seat at his fire three times, they dared to come back and accuse him of being a liar when, in fact, not once did they question him regarding Odin? Such blatant disrespect would not stand under the laws of Odin!”

Steve wondered about that, these laws of Odin, but kept his mouth shut. He could always ask (Y/N) about them later.

“Ve and Vili laughed, calling Hurgid foolish for standing with Odin when the King of Asgard would soon be dead.

It was then Odin arose, whole and well from his seat to strike down his brothers having heard enough. Their betrayal was complete. No longer was he able to deny their treasonous ways.

For his part, Odin granted Hurgid a boon, and your ancestor asked to join him in his quest to quiet the nine realms. To ride out with Odin in battle and guard his flank. Odin agreed but said such a warrior, one who could wield his own mighty Gungnir to slay such a massive boar should have a weapon worthy of him.” He motioned toward the sword in Steve’s hand. “That sword was created from the tusk of the boar who’d gored him and was dipped in Odin’s blood, laced with metal from a fallen star, and forged in the flames of Valhalla. There is no other like it for it carries the magic of three gods, two of which are no more.”

Steve suddenly felt the weight of just what a weapon it was he was holding and wondered if he was in over his head. Just what was he getting himself into?

“In time,” Loki continued, unaware of Steve’s inner misgivings, “Hurgid became both friend and confidant with father. They fought and warred and celebrated together. Aunt Freyja used to speak of him fondly as well, and father granted him the wilds lands where they met as Hurgid’s own kingdom once the realms were gathered under his rule, for wise men like your ancestor could be trusted to see to the people in Odin’s name. Hurgid married and had his heir, but much like Heðinn, the man was unworthy of the true strength of Hurgid. There was a greed in him. A poison and corruption. A thirst for more, more, more! So Hurgid passed him over for the younger son and in so doing signed his death warrant.

Igan, the elder son, in his rage at being denied, struck down his father in cold blood, but with his dying breath, Hurgid called out to Odin. Father went to him, and his anger at seeing what Igan had done was all consuming. He killed the man without hesitation, cursing him to Hell for his transgression before kneeling to gather Hurgid to him. Grief weighed heavy upon Odin’s heart, but he knew when Freyja arrived moments later it was to take Hurgid to Valhalla where he belonged, granting him the highest honour by coming to collect him herself, but Hurgid had other ideas.” Loki turned to peer out the window, seeming lost in his memories. “As you've said, the sword speaks wisdom. It teaches those with the ear to listen, and Hurgid was an intelligent man. He knew with Igan’s betrayal he couldn't give the mighty Randulfr to just anyone. It would be too powerful in the hands of someone with weak morals, so he asked Odin to take him to the tomb.

There, with Freyja’s help, he used the last of his strength to seal the sword to the wall to await the coming of his true heir. It took everything he had, leaving nothing for Freyja to take to Valhalla.”

Steve stared at the sword with new eyes. “He put his soul into it?”

“Into the binding which held it in trust for you. He chose a final death, a permanent one. Odin asked him not to, asked him to continue on, go with Freyja and live better days in Valhalla, but he said Hurgid only smiled and… let go.”

Quiet lapsed between them for a long moment before Steve slowly traced his fingers down the ornate scabbard. “Guess history really does repeat itself.”

“It seems you were destined to be the companion of Asgard’s king,” Loki agreed.

“You're not going to try and kill Thor again, are you?” Steve asked with a small grin.

“I make no promises,” Loki chuckled.

Steve turned to go but paused and turned back. “Thank you. Both for this and for helping us.”

Loki shrugged. “She is family.” He said it flippantly, but he wasn't fooling anyone.

“Loki, thank you as well for being with her after Helgi... after I died. I know it wasn't easy for you. And I appreciate your displeasure at her marriage to that bastard.” Steve’s grin widened.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Aunt Freyja has been telling tales.” He waved a dismissive hand. “It was an archaic tradition, to begin with, and I never liked Heðinn. You were, at least, tolerable.”

Steve slowly held out his hand. “Things have been… tense between us. Not just you and I but the team as well. I’d like to change that and not just for (Y/N)’s sake. What you did for her when you went against the temple…” He shook his head. “I’ll never be able to thank you.”

This time the shock was evident on Loki’s face as he took Steve’s offered hand and gripped his wrist. “She’s… family. I shouldn’t have ever given her up-”

“Don’t.” Steve tightened his grip when Loki tried to pull away. “Don’t dismiss what you did, what you succeeded in doing because, eventually, you succumbed to their torture. I can’t even imagine what it felt like to have those chains sear into your flesh, and you went through it more than once. Don’t make light of your sacrifice by saying it wasn’t enough. It was more than enough,” he said harshly. “She has to go back. We have to go back. What you did was give her the time she needed to finish, once and for all, the horror of her past. Don’t ever make light of the pain you went through to do so.”

Whether there was moisture dampening the God of Mischief’s eyes or not, Steve would never be certain, but Loki’s gratitude could not be mistaken. For a moment, he finally saw through the snide, jovial, mischievous mask Loki wore to the man behind it.

(Y/N) had talked a little about Loki and his past. About growing up in Thor’s shadow. About being different from the others and how it had caused him to be seen as somehow lesser than his brother. About how Frigga was his world and when it became evident Loki would become a master in seiðr rather than some muscle-bound warrior, it had further ostracized him.

Here was that man. The one aching to be acknowledged and accepted for who he was. The one who had wanted approval so badly, he’d nearly destroyed the planet of his birth to get it from his father. The one who’d gone so round the bend when it had been denied him, he’d come for Steve’s world instead.

“She adores you,” Steve said softly. “She fights and stands up for you so fiercely that people keep their opinions of you to themselves now to avoid her wrath.” He smirked a little and let Loki go. “Freyja said I could trust you. (Y/N) trusts you implicitly. But I’m choosing to trust you, Loki, not because they tell me I can, but because of what I saw in that tomb.”

The mask slipped seamlessly back in place, and Loki grinned wickedly. “Are you certain that is wise, Captain?”

Steve lifted his chin and gave a short nod. “Guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

The mask cracked, and Loki’s smile wavered. “I guess we will.”

He made to leave again only to have Loki shift toward him.

“May I… see the ring?”

The quietly worded request was so unlike him, Steve dug the box from his pocket without hesitation and held it out. Loki took it from him, lifted the lid, and ran his finger over the stone.

“Aunt Freyja… what are you playing at?” he murmured quietly, a smirk on his face.

“What?” Steve asked, curious. He knew Freyja would do nothing to harm (Y/N), but the fact Loki was so interested piqued his as well.

Mischief filled green orbs lifted and Loki’s smile was decidedly wicked. “You will see, Captain.” The box closed with a snap, and he handed it back. “Hurry along now. Once you are finished with (Y/N), we have things to discuss and your accoutrement to see to.” He made a motion, shooing Steve out the door.

Clearly, nothing more was going to be said, and Steve walked away knowing they’d come to an understanding of sorts. It was good and one less thing he would have to worry about in Asgard. He knew Loki would do nothing to endanger (Y/N) and do whatever he could to ensure this curse on them was broken. The God of Mischief wanted many more years with the woman he knew as Sváfa. That would not happen if they all failed to figure this out.

Steve nodded to the few people he passed, all looking mildly surprised to see him packing a large gold wrapped sword, but… this was the Avengers. Most of the staff had learned to roll with the punches, hence the reason many were in some sort of formal attire and wished him congratulations when he passed.

Steve shook his head and sighed. Here he was, about to get married, and he had no idea what was happening, where, when, or how. It was… odd and a little disheartening but also so in keeping with his life, he wasn’t sure why it surprised him this was how the day would go.

He pushed open the door to their room and had his heart clench hard at the sight which greeted him. (Y/N) appeared lost in thought, staring blankly at the wall with tears on her face. Those ethereal eyes of hers seemed all the more haunting with the crystalline drops shining on her lashes and dripping down her cheeks.

The door shut with a quiet click. He rested the sword carefully against the wall. His strides were long to take him to her side where he knelt slowly at her knees and took her hands in his. “Sweetheart?”

“Steve…” she whispered. Her features twisted and more tears fell.

He released her hands but only to slide them beneath her and bring her down to him, hold her close and warm her chilled skin. Her armour was gone, the cloak and boots, but the rest of her leathers remained, and he could see the gooseflesh on her arms. “Talk to me, please,” he murmured against her hair, stroking his palm up and down her arm.

“It’s all so fucked up,” she sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. “Helgi, Heðinn, the Valkyrjur, and the Temple. The greed and covetous nature of one man ruined… everything. But then to find out my people, my own people took it one step further? Was I such a horrible Queen? Was I so hated and despised they thought to be rid of me permanently?”

“No.” Steve threaded his fingers through her unbound hair and pulled until he could see her upturned face. “No, that’s not it at all. It was two people. Two out of thousands. Maybe a handful at most. I can’t imagine anyone not loving you, cherishing you, adoring you, the way I do,” he said quietly and kissed her softly.

The salt of her tears was bittersweet on his tongue.

“So much hate,” she whispered when he lifted his head. “I never knew how Heðinn felt. I never saw it. His obsession. How could I miss it? And now, to hear Helgi is trapped? That a piece of your soul isn’t whole with him missing, I… I don’t know what to think, Steve. I don’t know how to feel. Everything hurts. I had two more lives on Asgard where he was trapped in that tomb and I never even-”

Steve pressed his mouth to hers again, stilling the flood of words as he held her head and did his best to steal her breath away. She sighed and clutched at him, her hand curling into a fist in his jacket. Only then did he lift his lips from hers with reluctance as he was thoroughly addicted to her mouth. “Do you think he blamed you? That I blame you? Baby,” he sighed and let his forehead touch hers. “How were you to know? You couldn’t have. He’s there because of things outside your control. Once we figure this out, he’ll be free. Freyja said he would rest.” He didn’t know whether that meant what was left of Helgi would disappear to rejoin his soul, or if Helgi would continue on to some Asgardian afterlife, but whatever it would be, Steve would be happy he was free.

Which… messed with his head a little. After all, he was Helgi reborn and here he was, wishing himself well. It seemed rather... self-serving.

The flood of tears had slowed, but he could still feel the rampant confusion and sorrow writhing in her heart. Steve shifted his fingers through her hair, dragging the pads over her scalp. Her lashes fluttered, and her eye closed, a quiet moan falling from her lips. Steve did it a second time before cupping her cheek. He stroked his thumb over her smooth flesh, over the high arch of bone and down to graze her lip, waiting for her to return those stunning orbs to the world when she lifted her dusky lashes.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next days and weeks. I don’t know the answers or have the words that will soothe your heart. All I know is I love you, and nothing, absolutely nothing, will ever change that. We can get through this together. It’s you and me, til’ the end of time.”

A small smile tweaked her lips. “Don’t let Bucky hear you say that. You’ll give him a complex using his line on me.”

“He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother, in this life at least,” Steve chuckled softly. “He knows how important he is to me, but this? You?” He caressed her face and lip again, giving it a small pull with his thumb which caused her tongue to dart out and lick at him. Heat washed over his abdomen and dropped like a stone to burn in his loins. “Baby… this is eternity.”

“Steve.” She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and tugged, but he resisted.

“I need you like I need air,” he whispered, studying the curve of her cheek, the slope of her nose, the colour of her eyes as fresh tears filled them so he would remember her forever.

His back connected with the coffee table when she lurched up and wrapped her arm around his neck. Slippery like an eel, she ending up straddling his thighs.

“Ditto,” she breathed and sealed her mouth to his.

A laugh bubbled up in his throat but came out a strangled moan when she rocked her hips into his, sending certain portions of his anatomy leaping into life. He dropped his hands to her ass, clad in leather and so fucking sexy, and dragged her higher.

It was an instant case of want. His desire for her was suddenly raging as she ground against him and flicked her tongue over his teeth. But the box in his pocket felt like it was burning a hole in his thigh, its presence and her reaction to its reveal all he could think about now that the moment was here.

He lifted her bodily back to the couch, nearly falling in her lap when (Y/N) refused to let go. “Baby, please.”

“No,” she whined and wiggled closer. “I like kissing you. I like doing other things just as much. I think you should take your clothes off, Steven.”

He groaned and dropped his head to her chest. “We’re due to get married… I don’t even know when, and I still haven’t given you your ring. Cut a guy a break, doll face.”

Her arms relaxed, but a pout was on her lips when he lifted his head from where it had landed.

“If I must,” she sighed, the sound long-suffering and incredibly queenly.

“Brat,” he snickered. “Sounding all prissy when it was you who sent me after bling, to begin with.” Her smile appeared, full and excited, and Steve felt his heart settle when joy returned hers.

“If I say gimme, will you scowl at me?” she teased.

“No, but I may call you greedy,” he chuckled and dug in his pocket for the box before getting up to sit beside her.

He clenched his fingers around the velvet when his gaze caught and hung on the locket around her neck. Steve reached for it slowly, touched the golden circle of the pendant with reverence and swallowed the emotion seeing her wearing it caused to rise in his throat. “You… like it?” The smile she gave him said everything.

“I love it. Bucky told me about it, about the one your mother had. I kind of want to think this one was hers.” A light blush coloured her cheeks when her fingers wrapped around the locket.

“With all the meddling Freyja’s been doing? I somehow wouldn’t put it past her.” He let his fingers caress the back of her hand before falling away to fiddle with the box. “So… I, uh…” Suddenly, he was dry mouthed and tongue-tied. Yes, she’d already agreed to marry him, but that didn’t seem to ease the rolling anxiety which had formed into a ball of lead in his stomach.

“Steve?” She frowned at him.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth and then over the back of his neck. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

***

You peered at him curiously, studying the sweat which had broken out on his brow and the rapid pace of his heart, and clued in quickly how nervous he was. “Stevie,” you smiled and reached for his hand. “I already said yes. This is just the icing.”

He took a deep breath and squeezed your fingers before going back to fiddling with the box. “Was… difficult to find what I wanted. Things seemed… too modern or too antique or they turned up their nose at the bands. Couldn’t find one that was what I thought was you until we stumbled on Freyja’s place. Though, now I wonder how much of a coincidence that was.” He frowned and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Saw these amazing designs and I just knew, if it wasn’t in that shop, I wasn’t going to find it.”

You were getting a little desperate with how he kept playing with it like it was a creature waiting to bite. “So… you found it?”

“She brought this out from the back and I… knew. It’s you.”

But now he was second guessing himself. “Steven.” You reached for him again and cupped his face with both hands. “Whatever you picked will be perfect because it’s from you.”

He sighed, a goofy smile curling his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You were sure yours was just as goofy. “Can I?”

A slow nod was his acceptance as he lifted the lid and set the box in your hand. The scent of gold greeted your nose, and you traced your fingers over the ring gently. Delicate, was your first thought, with a prominent round stone. “Tell me about it,” you asked him, finding the stone in the middle a mystery. There were small diamonds set like links in a chain down the band, and you knew the ring Loki had produce would match it nearly perfectly.

“I… didn’t want something as common as a diamond for you. You’re so much more than a diamond. So much more special and unique. When I saw this,” he lightly touched the box, “I just knew. The stone reminded me of your eyes. So full of mystery and magic. There’s a milky white to it, but then the light catches it, and it fires with blues and purples and the softest pink. A surprise of colour, suddenly becoming more than it seems.”

Your heart hit your throat and stuck there. You knew he meant those words about you as well. “What’s it called?” you somehow managed to force past the lump of emotion in your throat.

“A moonstone.”

A laugh escaped you as you plucked the ring from the box and held it out to him. “How fitting.”

“Why’s that?” he asked as he took the ring from your fingers.

You held out your hand. “Moonstone is the gift of lovers. It’s supposed to invoke the flames of passion between the couple forever.”

“And how would you know that?” he asked, his smile growing as he slipped the ring on the third finger of your left hand.

“Hey, I read! Well, I used to,” you smirked and cupped his cheek once the ring was situated to draw him in for a sweet, tender kiss. “It’s beautiful, Steve. I love it.”

His fingers captured yours so he could brush his thumb over your knuckles. “Even if you can’t really see it?” he asked quietly, kissing your finger beneath the new adornment.

“Who says I can’t really see it?”

“Sam,” he sighed.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, Sam’s a bit of a dumbass. I see it, Steven. Both in my own way and in the way you described it. You paint pictures with your words. I see it, and it’s perfect.”

“Good.” He breathed out in relief and leaned in to kiss you again only to have someone bang on the door.

“Oi! Punk! That’s enough tradition breaking! Get your ass out here. I’m not afraid to come get you,” Bucky warned.

“Fuck off, Barnes!” you shouted, making Steve snicker.

“Still so mouthy,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you as the door opened with a bang.

“Hey! None of that till after the wedding,” Bucky huffed, leaning against the door jam.

“When did he become the maiden aunt?” you muttered and placed a smacking kiss to Steve’s lips.

“Baby,” Steve laughed and pulled away while Bucky sputtered. “I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.”

“You’d best be waiting,” you grumbled. He stood to leave as Nat and Wanda waltzed in with garment bags.

“Loki sent us with this!” Wanda squealed, holding hers up. “He said he’d work on Steve.”

“What? Like I need work?” he scoffed.

You only smiled. “He’s likely going to explain the ceremony after cleaning you up.”

“I can clean myself up, you know,” Steve continued to grumble, making his way to the door.

“Hey, Rogers?” you called out right before the door shut.

“Darlin’?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to you shaving,” you teased, pulling at imaginary whiskers on your own chin.

He laughed and shut the door as you turned toward the girls.

“I’m getting married,” you giggled when the two of them rushed forward.

“Yes, you are!” Wanda laughed.

“Let’s see it.” Nat reached for your wrist.

“You already have!” Wanda huffed but sighed softly when her gaze fell on your ring. “Oh… he did so good!”

Laughing, you shared a group hug. “Make sure and tell him that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so nervous!”

“Captain Nerves of Steel actually flinched? I would have paid to see that,” Natasha teased. “He was so worried you wouldn’t like it.”

“He shouldn’t have been. He picked it, and his reasons why? Oh, wow,” you smiled again, sappy and ridiculously happy.

Soon, Odin and Thor would return, and then you would stand before them and exchange your vows with Steve. Happiness seemed all consuming when before only sorrow had been felt. But Steve was… Steve. He’d easily assuage your fears, your guilt, your anguish, and made you realize there was nothing you couldn’t do as long as you were together.

To the end of eternity… with him.

Giggling along with the girls, you gripped each hand tightly and bit your lip to hold back the excitement before tugging them further into the room. “I need your opinion on something.”

“What?” Natasha asked.

“It’s a surprise... for Steve,” you grinned and led them toward the tablet and what Bucky had helped pick out.

Next Chapter

#Rise Up #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #Avengers #The Avengers #avengers au #avengers fanfiction #valkyrie

177 notes · View notes

pjbehindthesun · 7 years ago

Text

chapter 19: it's not a joke

Wednesday, October 31st, 1990

“Cora? Hey, uhm, can we talk?”

Shit, I wish I hadn’t whirled around so fast, I’m fucking dizzy now. But even through the neon lights of the bar and the shafts of light from the disco ball and the crazy colors of everyone’s costumes flying across my field of vision, it’s hard to miss the sight I wanted to see most. One pair of Stone eyes, two pairs of Stone eyes, four pairs of Stone eyes, eight pairs of Stone eyes, kaleidoscoping around disobediently, STOP that... okay okay, now four pairs of Stone eyes, two, and finally just the one pair, sparkling with amusement. His hand stays on my elbow, steady and firm, the only electrical signal reaching my brain that allows me to figure out where to look in order to ground myself.

“Uh huh.” God. Smooth, Cora.

I feel his fingers slip down my forearm and interlock with mine before he turns around and gives my hand a gentle tug. His grip stays tight as he pulls me through the crowd, and I allow myself be towed in his wake, letting the image of him walking in front of me steady my senses, wondering how in the hell I’ve known this man for almost six months and never noticed what a great ass he has… and just what am I supposed to do with that information, god damn it, stop staring at him like an object, he’s a human being, he’s your friend, he’s --

“Ow, Jesus! Personal space!”

He looks over his shoulder with a grin after stopping short at the door, because I’ve just collided hard with his back.

“Sorry, just sudden. A little warning would have been nice,” I grumble.

“That's what she said.”

“Aww, my sympathies to all your ex-girlfriends.”

He offers no retort because he's still too busy cackling at his own cleverness, so I abandon him and find a spot on the curb a little ways down from the door where I don't think we'll be tripped over too much. It takes a little bit of a fight to get the pleats of this stupid little skirt arranged so that I don't flash all of Seattle, though, and in my current state of inebriation it's not a graceful battle… how did I let Lucy talk me into wearing something so short, this is all her fault…

“I like that skirt, is it new?”

In my preoccupation, I hadn't noticed him sitting down next to me. Fantastic, so he's been watching my struggle this whole time with that stupid smug look on his face.

“Ohhhkay, fine, out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“Don't play dumb, Stone.”

“I'm not…” his brow creases.

“I know, I know, this skirt’s ridiculous, I can't wait to burn the damn thing tomorrow, I’ve been fighting with it all night, so of course you’ve got some devastating sarcastic crack to unleash about it, come on… out with it.”

“Oh, of course, it would be inconceivable that I might actually pay you a compliment free of irony.”

“First time for everything.”

“You're such a sweetheart,” he sneers.

“You have no room to talk. Speaking of talking…?” I raise my eyebrows expectantly.

“Huh? Oh. Uh, it was just getting kinda stuffy in there. I don't know, it's nicer out here.”

“Suit yourself, but I was winning an argument.”

“What the hell were you guys talking about, anyway?”

“Whether free will exists. What do you think?”

He blinks and crumples up his features, shaking his head in exasperation. “This is what you think about when you’re drunk?”

“Excuse me,” I adjust my skirt again and straighten up, “I am not drunk, I’m just ethanol-enhanced.”

“Yeah well, you’re pretty enhanced right now, if you get what I’m saying...”

“You underestimate me, Stoner, I can hold my whiskey. So, what do you think?”

He frowns. “About free will?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Shit, I don’t know… help me out, where did you guys leave off?”

“You’re not getting off that easy, what do you think?”

He sighs and narrows his eyes at me, pursing his lips in a resigned smile. “Well, I’m willing to bet you don’t believe in anything that can’t be explained scientifically --”

“-- that’s because everything can be explained scientifically --”

“-- oh, stop being so modest… and Kim probably thought that was hilarious and wanted to play devil’s advocate with some kind of metaphysical bullshit.”

“You’re about up to speed, yeah.”

He sighs. “Okay, uhm… I guess I just don’t see why it matters.”

“How so?”

“I mean, I think the whole idea of free will really just exists to punish people for not doing what they’re supposed to. Like, if we look at it your way, then everything we do, whether it’s the tiniest reflex or a big life decision, has an explainable cause, so we’re not really in control of anything, tough shit. My dog has as much freedom to decide to run after the stick I throw as to decide whether or not to have a seizure, which is to say none at all.”

“Aw, you really do have a geriatric dog, huh?”

“Yeah, she’s a senior citizen,” he says sadly. “But like, if we want to talk about freedom, then isn’t it really just to create some ownership of certain kinds of actions but not others? I guess I care less about whether free will exists than why people want it to exist.”

“Right. At what point does an infant stop being this blameless, innocent little potato and start being a kid that their parents can blame for misbehaving?”

“Yeah, or like, addiction. We talk about it like it’s a big moral failing, like there’s some kind of choice involved, and maybe at some level there is, but like, I don’t know if you know any addicts…” he sighs, looking terrifyingly fragile all of a sudden, “but I think the whole reason society wants to hold people responsible for shit like that is to be able to, like, impose consequences for ‘fucking up,’” he frames his words with air quotes.

“Like there aren’t enough of those already,” I add quietly, hating myself for clumsily letting the conversation steer into such a painful topic.

“Right. I mean,” he shifts his posture, and some of his normal composure returns, “I guess there’s something kind of romantic about feeling like you’re the master of your own destiny, but I think we mostly use it as a stick to beat people with.”

“What the fuck does ‘romantic’ even mean, anyway?” I snort.

“Uh uh, nope, you’re cut off -- we need several more drinks before we solve any more of life’s mysteries.”

“Now you’re talking,” I hook my arm in his and start to stand up, pulling on him to join me, but he resists, so I let go of him and sit back down. “What’s up?”

“Well, uh, I actually did want to talk to you about something.”

Of course. He’s suddenly engrossed in watching his own fidgeting fingers, which is all I can stare at now as well. Damn it, Stone, you're making me nervous...

“Okay, shoot.”

“I was talking to Jeff just now, he thinks, uh… he was thinking… there’s something going on.”

My mind goes blank. I'm not ready for this. Too drunk. Not drunk enough. “Going on… between us?”

He scoffs. “No, actually, he wants to cover the song on the record. You know, Frida? I knowww there's something going onnn…”

“You're such an asshole,” I elbow him, but he's occupied rocking out to the beat in his head and playing air guitar.

“But like, super heavy, crunchy, distorted guitars… it’d be pretty sweet, right?”

“I think that's a little out of Eddie's register!”

We both collect our laughter gradually, not rushing back to the topic, because we both know damn well that we’re not sitting out on this curb because Jeff Ament harbors a burning desire to cover Frida.

“Yeah, between us,” he concedes when he's finally straight-faced again. “He thinks something's up here.”

He’s right, isn't he? I want to ask, but the words are lodged somewhere in my throat in a thicket of panic. Of course Jeff’s right, I’m not an idiot, I know that Stone and I are not just friends. I know that. I’ve known that for a while now. I just don't know what that makes us, or what the hell I’m supposed to do about it. I’ve been hiding from this thing for way too long, and now it’s out of control. The options blur around and around my mind, as if on a carousel. Deny it? The thought is physically painful… Laugh it off? No, that’s even worse… Come clean? But I can hardly admit it to myself, let alone him. The thought of owning up to all of this, disentangling it, is just too much to handle tonight, there’s not enough whiskey in the world… I decide to let simplicity win, or maybe it's just cowardice.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told them they should mind their own business,” he says bluntly.

“Them?”

“Yeah, well, I kinda got the sense Lucy had the same idea.”

“Ah.” My heart starts to ache. I should have talked to her. God, I’m the worst friend, I should have talked to her about this days ago, I know she of all people would have listened and tried to understand, and maybe she could even have helped me figure out what I’m supposed to do about it.

“Well, and… Mike's brought it up once or twice. Chris said something a while back.”

“Are you kidding me? Did I miss a newsletter or something? God, they’re so full of shit.”

His shoulders shake with a single silent laugh, but his eyes are focused on the asphalt. “Nothing new there.”

“Fucking ridiculous,” I add, figuring that if we’re going for denial then I might as well commit, although it’s just as painful as I thought it would be.

“Right, I mean, just because we’ve been spending a lot of time together doesn’t mean… shit…” his hands begin to fidget again, and we’re both watching them like they’re a sideshow.

“Right,” I echo, feeling like my chest might cave in at any moment.

“Right? You’ve got a boyfriend. Like, nothing could ever happen, I would never…” he trails off, shaking his head.

“No, I know, me either!”

“But like… we have been, you know, getting a lot closer, especially over the last week, and I’m not gonna… I won’t pretend like that doesn’t mean anything to me.”

I can feel him watching me, waiting for me to affirm that this evolution between us has been mutual. And of course it has. But what am I supposed to say? That yes, this has been the best week of my life, and it’s all because I’ve been pretending that this suspended animation we’re in is actually real life, but I know that in one way or another it’s all about to come crashing down? Admitting that doesn’t make anything easier or simpler. I love you for climbing out on this limb, Stone, I just can’t join you.

When I finally find words, I hear myself saying the only thing I can think of that’s both true and safe.

“You’re one of my best friends.”

“You too.”

But the look in his eyes and the hush in his voice is anything but safe. Feeling increasingly frantic to scramble back to familiar territory, I cast around for a way to turn our situation into something we can laugh at.

“Well, I think we’re looking at this thing all wrong.”

“Really?” he arches an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean, here’s a gift-wrapped opportunity to fuck with our friends, if we wanna take it. You know, really follow through on the whole scandal.”

A smile curves one half of his mouth as he says hesitantly, “what’d you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don't even know,” I think for a moment, letting the whiskey do the talking for a change, “just like, conspicuously disappear together into a supply closet for a pretend quickie and come out five minutes later looking all disheveled, just to see what they do?”

He gapes at me. “Five minutes?? You think that's all we’d need? Jesus, Cora… I’m insulted.”

“My mistake. Stone Gossard, the Sixty Minute Man, I presume?”

“Try me,” he smirks.

“Pass,” I laugh.

“Hey! I mean it! I can provide references!”

“Come on, haven't those poor girls been through enough?”

“Oh, you're in so much trouble,” he grins, looking away.

“We’d make a terrible couple, you know. We’re too similar. We’d fight all the damn time.”

“Yeah, but I bet the makeup sex would be off the charts,” he dodges the swipe I just aimed at the side of his head.

“Why do I hang out with such perverted filth, ugh.”

He lets his eyes zone out as he intones, “one of us, one of us...”

“Lucky me. Hey, it’s freezing out here, you wanna get back inside?”

We stand up and brush off the dirt from the curb before he turns to me, rubbing my arms vigorously with his hands and wearing a broad grin.

“I think it’s really adorable how easily you get cold.”

“I think it’s really adorable how easily you get patronizing.”

I stick my tongue out at him, he readjusts the cat ears in my hair, and it almost feels like we're back to our normal bullshit before he looks intently at me and pulls a deep breath.

“I actually think we’d do alright, for the record. At the whole couple thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, come on, we’ve probably both dealt with worse.”

“If this is your application to be considered boyfriend material, you might want to aim a little higher than ‘you’ve seen worse.’”

“I’m totally boyfriend material. I did your dishes,” he says slyly, holding the door open.

“Yeah, and to spare your feelings, I conveniently left out the part where I had to wash them all again the next morning.”

He forces a little pout, but that half-smile I love so much washes it away without too much effort. “I never said I did them well…”

***

The first person I make eye contact with when we’re back inside is Jeff, which comes as no surprise because I’m positive he and Lucy have been watching the door like hawks ever since Cora and I left. Cora’s got the right idea, though: without another word or glance in my direction, she makes a beeline for Lucy, wraps her up in a back-breaking hug, and the two of them are rapidly absorbed in a conversation I can’t hear from this side of the room.

I should follow her lead. Partly because I need to get my nosy fucking bassist to stop staring at me, and partly because I need to drink that conversation out of my head as quickly as possible. I chickened out, I hate to admit. I know we need to figure this shit out sooner rather than later, but it’s just so much easier to keep joking with her about it. But I meant what I told her about what she means to me, it’s not a joke…

Eddie saves me from myself with a beer, followed by another one bought by Chris, and I lose sight of Cora in the crowd for most of the night. Well, that's not entirely true. I spent an agonizing several minutes talking to Jeff while trying my level best not to openly stare over his shoulder at Cora while she and Lucy were dancing over by the bar to Iggy Pop. Jesus, that purple skirt is definitely my new favorite...

But I'm more or less successful at seeming disinterested until until we’re all congregating by the cars and figuring out how everyone plans to get home.

“Where’s Mike?” Lucy, the only sober one in the group, cranes her neck to peer back inside.

“You didn’t see him stumble out of here with Selene a while back?” I answer.

“No way!” Jeff shouts.

“Oh yeah. The two of them were quite a sight. The KISS makeup definitely wasn’t kissproof, let’s just put it that way.”

“Okay, so that’s one lost lamb accounted for,” Lucy muses. “Stone, your car’s back at our place? You wanna take the couch?”

I thank her and take her up on the offer, and Jeff and I are busy making plans for another mountain biking trip this weekend when Cora materializes from somewhere behind me. I try to keep my voice as casual as possible because I know Jeff's watching closely.

“What about it, Red? Duthie Hill, Saturday? They have some good trails.”

But she bites her lips in, which with all of her facepaint makes the cat look like it’s grinding its teeth, and Jeff speaks up. “She can’t, man, she doesn’t have a bike, remember?”

“What??” I realize I’m shouting when Eddie's head whips around sharply to frown at me, so I try to tone it down.”Yes you do, the green one, that was a really nice bike! What happened to it?”

She cringes. “I sorta… gave it away…”

“When did that happen?” I ask her in a much lower voice, trying to be conscious of my volume.

“I gave it to Patch,” she says simply.

“She’s being modest, she’s the best big sister in the world and she didn’t want her kid brother to move to a new city without some way of getting around.” Lucy wraps Cora up in another one of their tight hugs, and despite the makeup, I can see my amazing, giving, kindhearted girl blushing as she gives me a “kill me now” look. I’m sure my own expression is entertaining too, but I couldn’t care less. The feeling in my chest as I stare back at her is the kind of thing that crowds out any self-consciousness. I didn’t think it was possible to love her more, but here we are.

“Cor? You around tomorrow? Lunch date? Cyclops?” Lucy asks, and from within the headlock, Cora nods enthusiastically in response to each question.

“Okay, enough standing around, it's freezing,” she says in a muffled voice around Lucy’s forearm before she breaks loose and bolts towards the Corolla.

Jeff obviously takes shotgun, since no one would dare try to argue him out of sitting next to Lucy, and anyway I’ve got no interest in sitting up front. Eddie sits behind Jeff and immediately leans forward, striking up an animated conversation about basketball, which is perfect because it leaves Cora and me completely undisturbed.

All I want to do is restart our conversation somehow, try for a do-over, tell her that it’s not really a joke, that I want to know how she feels, that I want to give this a try, that I really do care what an impossible position that puts her in and I want to talk about it and try to figure it out together, that yes, she is one of my best friends, but what if that’s not the end of what we are but the start of what we could be…

Of course, we’re both too drunk for that conversation to happen tonight, and there are way too many witnesses. And anyway, she’s determined not to look at me because she’s too busy pretending to care about Jeff and Eddie’s speculations for the start of the NBA season. I’ve almost resigned myself to joining her when I feel her thigh drift over towards mine and apply a steady pressure. And now I know that none of it matters. None of the equivocation, none of the bullshit jokes, none of the obstacles. Only this person matters. We’ll figure the rest out as we go.

I reach over to her lap and brush the back of her hand with mine, hoping to tell her just a fraction of what I should have told her outside, but I’m not prepared for how quickly she turns her hand over and laces her fingers into mine. Feeling like I’ve just had the wind knocked out of me in the best way, I look sideways at her and am rewarded with that warm, open smile of hers, beautiful even through all the facepaint. It's not a joke. This is enough. Just holding her hand in the darkness, smiling at her and seeing her smile back at me as the streetlights flash past us, this is all I need right now.

***

Thursday, November 1, 1990

“So on a scale of one to ten, how hungover were you this morning?”

Cora screws up her face. “I mean, it wasn’t an apocalyptic experience, and it was definitely nothing like the Bushmills night --” she chuckles as I fake a gag “-- but it wasn’t pretty. Maybe a six?”

“Oh yeah, hissing at daylight and shunning all human contact? Good thing you’re not working this shift, I’m betting you wouldn’t set a new personal best for tips earned.”

“Not unless they’re pity tips. I didn’t even realize until I’d already walked over here that I’d missed a spot of the paint when I washed my face. How did the guys do?”

“Jeff and Ed were still out cold when I left for work. I think they’re probably in a world of hurt by now, though.”

“And Stone?”

Her voice is neutral, and her attention seems to be focused on her quesadilla, but she doesn’t fool me. I know exactly what’s going on inside her head. She’s in that place where you think about someone so often that you start to become embarrassed about how often their name pops out of your mouth, so you start to wait for strategic moments to bring them up, like when we’re already twenty minutes into our lunch.

“He left before I got up, so either he was the most bright-eyed and bushy-tailed of the bunch, or he felt the overwhelming urge to crawl off somewhere isolated to die alone.”

She nods but doesn’t reply, so I decide to wait a little longer before I push her to tell me what’s going on there. We kill time talking about work while we polish off the rest of our meals, and then decide that the hangover gods require an additional sacrifice, so we order a plate of fries to split, and I switch to her side of the booth so we can slump pathetically on each other while we demolish it. After a long pause, Cora leans her head on my shoulder and I lean my head onto hers.

“Lucy?” she says quietly, twirling a fry in the ketchup.

“Mmph?” I respond around an undignified mouthful of fries.

“Have you ever… liked someone you’re not supposed to like?”

Fighting the urge to gasp, because I know that if I do I’ll only choke, I swallow my food and ask her in my calmest, most innocent voice, “who do you like that you’re not supposed to like?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs, “it’s just a hypothetical.”

“Cora?”

“Can you just answer first?”

“Okay… well, I think first of all, it depends on what you mean by ‘like.’”

“Don’t be a 6th grader about this, Lucy, you know what I mean. Like-like.”

Like-like? And I’m the 6th grader?? I’m thankful she’s still resting her head on my shoulder and can’t see the incredulous look I’m struggling to wipe off my face.

“Okay. Then I think it also depends on what you mean when you say you’re not supposed to like them.”

“Someone… off limits.”

“Not the person you’re with,” I elaborate very carefully.

“Exactly. And it’s not just hormones, either,” she continues, “I mean… really connecting with someone. Someone else.”

“So, there’s this person --”

“-- hypothetically speaking --” she cuts me off.

“Fine, there’s this hypothetical person you like. Are they a good person?”

“Really good.”

“Makes you laugh, listens to you, cares about your feelings, always calls you back, all that good stuff?”

“All of it.”

“And you’re attracted to them?”

“Hypothetically… yes. Very.”

“Think they’re attracted to you?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Okay, I see. That sounds pretty great. And what about the person you’re with, hypothetically? Do they make you feel the same way?”

After a long pause, all she has to say, in a frighteningly small voice, is “no.” I’m done playing games now.

“Cora?”

She sits up and regards me with a completely miserable expression but doesn’t respond, so I brush her hair out of her eyes and say simply, “just tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay okay I don’t know how the hell any of this happened but I think I’m falling for Stone,” she says in one giant breath before biting her lips back in, as if she regrets letting the words past them.

“I think maybe you already fell.”

“It’s an ongoing process,” she mutters, flushing.

“I know what you mean.” Wow, she’s got it bad. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure Stone took the same fall you did.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” she huffs.

“Oh, sweetie… yeah, it’s been obvious for a while.”

“Sounds like it was obvious to everyone but me,” she grumbles.

“Have you guys talked it through yet?”

“No… I think he wanted to talk about it last night, but I just couldn’t do it. I wish I’d told him, though, there’s just… it’s complicated, but I know we need to air it out. I get that.”

My heart swells with gratitude for Jeff for doing his part. Now it’s time for me to do mine.

“You guys really clicked, didn’t you?”

“It’s insane, Lucy. I’ve never felt this way about someone before.”

“Yeah, but you and Alex fell in love pretty quickly, didn’t you?”

“That was totally different,” she shakes her head. “Alex and me, we kinda just… happened. Like, I met him, we hooked up that same night, we just sort of stuck together after that, and I was so excited to have a boyfriend that I don’t think I really thought about it all that much. I don’t know what to call that, looking back, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t love. Not right away.”

I take a deep breath and ask her the most obvious yet most painful question of all. “And do you love Alex now?”

She slumps in the booth, leaning her head back with a thud. “I don’t think what we have now is love either. It used to be, but… I don’t know, not anymore.”

“For how long?”

“How am I supposed to know? I just know he’s been checked out for a long time now, and I’m starting to realize that I have been, too. Like, what are we even doing? We hardly spend any time together, he hates all my friends… except you,” she adds quickly, “and he hasn’t even called me once since he’s been on this trip, not even to return a call.”

“Really?” I have to fight not to shake my head in disgust. That’s shitty, even for Alex. What’s so goddamn important about a conference that you can’t find time to call your girlfriend? Not once, the entire week? My urge to beat him bloody with my shoe returns with a vengeance.

“Really. I’ve called him every day, and I get nothing back. At first I was kinda worried, but like… this is just what he does. I don’t think he even cares. I left him a message the other night to see if he wanted a ride home from the airport, but it’s just radio silence.”

“You don’t deserve that,” I affirm. “Whatever else is going on, that’s just cruel. He should care enough to call you back, at the very least.”

Her face contorts. “Yeah, but I’m not much better… my boyfriend goes away for a week and I fall head over heels for that idiot??”

“That idiot has a name, and you’re obviously pretty important to him. That’s not some new development in the last week.”

“Still, Luce, I just feel like such an asshole. How did I let this get so out of hand?”

“Sometimes this stuff happens, Cora. Sometimes a relationship runs its course, and you don’t always get closure wrapped up in a pretty little bow before somebody’s ready to move on. I just think you’ve got to talk to Alex.”

“Yeah. I know. I know I do.” Her eyes are starting to look a little red as she leans her head back on my shoulder. “It’s over, it’s been over for a while, I just… I can’t be the one to…”

I only speak up when I’m sure she can’t finish her own thought. “You feel like you can’t be the one to leave.”

“Right.”

I wrap an arm around her and pull her into a hug. We don’t talk about her dad a lot, but I know that’s where this bullshit about not leaving people comes from. From the inner eight year old who was left behind once and can’t stand to leave anyone else the same way.

“Cora, it’s not the same. People grow apart. You’re not married to Alex, you don’t have kids, we’re young… you don’t have to do this to yourself forever if you’re not happy with him. Are you happy?”

She sniffs and shakes her head.

“You deserve someone who makes you happy.”

“I’ve got to talk to Alex.”

“Yeah. You do. He gets home tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“You can do this, Cor. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I give her shoulder another big squeeze, and we finish our fries in silence.

***

After my afternoon classes are done, I drop my books by the front door of the apartment and notice that the answering machine has something to tell me. When I press play, the unexpected sound of Alex’s voice makes me jump.

“Hey babe, I got your message last night,” oh, and what about the ones I left every other day? my brain asks him bitterly, “don’t worry, I don’t need a ride from the airport, you’re the only one who cares about that shit, haha. No but seriously, I can get myself home. Anyway, yeah, I’ll seeya when I seeya, hope you had a good week, bye for now.”

I sink down onto the couch, wincing at the dismissiveness of the message. After a week of not hearing your voice, this is all I get? I’ll seeya when I seeya? What am I, your drinking buddy? Some random acquaintance? I used to think I was going to spend my life with you, you asshole, and even if we’re drifting apart, even if we’re breaking up, don’t we deserve a better ending than this? Lucy’s right, this can’t wait any longer, I’ve got to talk to him as soon as he gets home…

You’re the only one who cares about that shit… his laughter keeps ringing in my ears. Laughter. After what happened a few weeks ago? When I asked you to pick me up at the airport, hoping you’d at least pretend that you gave a damn, and you fucking forgot? Really, that’s a joke to you now? It’s not a joke! It’s not a joke to me! God, how can it be a joke to you?

And you know who actually picked me up? You know who was there when I needed him? Stone. A shard of guilt pierces my chest when I think about Stone trying to have a sincere talk with me last night. Yeah, okay, he had terrible timing, it wasn’t something we needed to discuss while drunk. But he tried to tell me and I brushed it off. That wasn’t a joke either. Suddenly all I can think about is how much I need to tell him, and it can’t wait. I dial so quickly that I’m almost confident I hit a wrong number, but the voice on the other end of the line is exactly the one I wanted to hear. I don’t waste any time.

“Hey... can I come over?”

#it's terrible sorry #chapter 19 #behind the sun #fanfiction #fanfic #stone gossard #eddie vedder #jeff ament #mike mccready #pearl jam

28 notes · View notes

from-the-clouds · 7 years ago

Text

Somewhere Only We Know - Chapter 16

Chapter 15* Playlist * Masterlist

Word Count: 1,900

Warnings: n/a

Tag: @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff, @maiden-of-gondor @crayonwriting @la-fille-en-aiguilles (let me know if you’d like to be tagged!)

A/N: Okay, so this isn’t a particularly eventful chapter but I had to do some characterization for Y/N and her mother. Ya know, I want to set some nice things up for the chapters to come! Sorry for the break between updates, life is wild sometimes.

April 1944

The guilt that consumed Y/N for the next few days was worse than she could have imagined, seeping from her mind into her body, coursing through her veins. She was sore and tired and regretting every choice she’d made since Collins left the few years before. Her life now was so different, and while she was frolicking around Europe, entertaining crowds, he was in pain, much to her ignorance. Had he told her earlier maybe she wouldn’t feel so bad. But this wasn’t his fault. She’d kept him in the dark, and as she penned draft after draft of what to write back to the man she loved, it became harder and harder for her to find the right words to make everything okay.

Would he be angry if she was honest? Most likely not. But it was her own mind that would make her regret what she’d done, and it already had begun to. Even if he did get upset she had kept her life from him, it was nothing compared to what she was currently doing for herself. Sleep evaded her, she nursed saltine crackers and black tea, as she had no appetite or motivation to prepare food for herself.

When she woke up one morning, her face pressed against a blank piece of paper, a pen loose in her grip as she surveyed the crumpled-up letters she’d attempted the night before, it was the rare sunlight streaming through the curtains in her living room that pulled her briefly out of the tent of self-hatred she’d set up for herself. At least for a moment, she needed to talk to someone else about this. But the only person available, who could possibly give her any proper advice, was the last person she wanted to go to.

Straightening her dress after she’d quickly showered and gotten ready for the day, she raised her hand and knocked on the door. Y/N hadn’t put any effort into making herself look nice, she hadn’t even dried her hair or put on makeup, so she knew she was quite the sight.

It didn’t take long for her to get an answer. Diana opened the door, donned in an apron, her hair impeccably styled away from her face, contrasting with her tired and frumpy-looking daughter. The house smelled amazing, which Y/N had become accustomed to growing up. Y/N wasn’t much of a chef herself, and her appetite suddenly came back with a vengeance at the smell of her mother’s cooking.

“Dear Lord, what the hell happened to you?” her mother asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Despite her initial instinct to fire back, she felt her shoulders slump in defeat under her mother’s disapproving gaze. “Can I just come in?” she asked. “I need to talk to you.”

Diana sensed her change in disposition and stepped to the side to allow her daughter entry.

“I’m surprised to see you at all after you blew off Stephen and I last week,” her mother quipped as Y/N followed her into the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to see him considering the circumstances.”

“That was rude,” her mother said, nodding at the breakfast nook in the kitchen. Y/N sat, dejected, staring out the tiny window.

“I know,” she said absentmindedly, unable to find the strength to argue.

Her mother pursed her lips, turning away from the stovetop. “Why are you here, then? I hope it’s to apologize.”

“Not exactly,” Y/N murmured, letting her chin rest on her hand as she leaned on the tabletop. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t very sincere,” Diane quipped, turning back around and flipping a page in her cookbook. “I shouldn’t have to ask for an apology.”

“Can you cut me some slack, mother?” Y/N straightened up, her patience waning as her voice cracked. “I need someone to talk to, and you sure as hell aren’t making this easy for me.”

Her mother didn’t respond, focused on chopping vegetables while Y/N sat at the breakfast nook twiddling her thumbs, trying to decide how much she wanted to reveal to her mother and how to even bring it up. A long bout of silence passed before her mother spoke again.

“Stephen was over yesterday.”

“He was?”

“Yes, he wanted me to talk to you about last week, see if I could get you to come around.”

Y/N huffed. “And?”

“I never liked him much to be honest, didn’t think your father did either,” her mother said, not turning around, tossing some chopped celery that hissed as it hit the hot pan. “But you seemed happy.”

“I was young, I knew nothing,” Y/N said flatly, slightly annoyed that their conversation had gone back to Stephen. It was pointless, and meant little to her now. But her mother either didn’t hear her, or chose not to respond, because she was forced to continue the conversation. “What did you say to him?”

“He wanted me to promise that I’d try to get you to call, to meet up with him.”

Y/N scoffed.

“So this is me…..trying,” Diane looked over her shoulder, quirking an eyebrow. This made Y/N smile, slightly, though she knew it resembled more of a pained

“Well, I’m not single,” Y/N responded. And that’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Jesus, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

“No! God no.” Y/N scrunched her nose, shaking her head. “This is about Jack, mother. You’ve met him.”

He mother was quiet a moment, taking the information in. “You fancied him after all?” her mother asked, looking over his shoulder.

“I’m surprised you couldn’t tell.”

“I could, I was just trying to be polite,” Diane said.

Y/N rolled her eyes but knew better than to say anything. This was really trying her patience, but she had to stay focused on why she was here in the first place. “Well, he’s been away. And I may have ruined it.”

“Are you upset because he’s gone at war? You should have considered that before you got involved with him.”

Y/N’s composure snapped like a rubber band, despite the pep talk she’d been giving herself. “You think I didn’t consider that? It all happened so quickly.” Truth be told, she knew she would have loved Collins regardless, and she didn’t regret loving him now.

“What’s the issue?” her mother asked. “You’ve been here twenty minutes and you’ve yet to really explain why.”

Y/N sighed, tilting her head. “I haven’t been honest with Jack about everything going on in my life. I’ve told him nothing about the shows I’ve been playing or the opportunity in London. I wanted to, but it just felt so wrong, considering the fact that he’s miserable in the trenches somewhere, fighting for us all to go on like normal and I’m frolicking around here doing nothing of substance.”

“Anyways, he was injured again, and he can’t write me so one of his friends did. And now I feel awful because I’ve lied to him for so long about my life. I can’t explain why it makes me feel so guilty.” Y/N shook her head. “I imagined….if we both got out of this safely…I thought maybe he and I would….would get married.”

Y/N didn’t expect herself to start crying. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d opened up to her mother about something so personal and the vulnerability from that and the guilt that’d been eating her apart combined and resulted in tears…. again. It was surprising she hadn’t dehydrated herself from all the crying she’d done over the last few days.

It wasn’t hard to compose herself though, especially not under Diane’s condescending gaze.

“And you don’t need to chastise me, I know I’ve made a mistake,” Y/N spoke up before she could. “Believe me, I’m already insecure enough because of you.”

She feared the worst would come from her mother’s mouth as she finally seemed to stop meddling with her cooking, turning around to face her daughter. Biting the inside of her cheek, her mother appeared angry, ready to unleash everything all at once, but instead she sighed, walking towards Y/N and taking the empty seat at the breakfast nook across from her.

“I’ve always wanted the best for you, Y/N.” She said flatly. “I’ve pushed you hard and haven’t let you rest for that reason.”

“There are other ways to go about-“

“No,” her mother shook her head. “Being nice about doesn’t work.” She scoffed. “Not with you, at least.”

Y/N had to bit her tongue not to respond before her mother did.

“When you were a kid I remember you’d always come inside crying when the neighbor kids played too rough. You’d fall and scrape your knee and I’d comfort you, but you’d always keep wailing. Unless I told you that you were fine.”

“Because you were fine, you knew it. You looked down at the scab on your leg and went right back outside. I didn’t need to coddle you.”

“I knew after your dad passed away, and after Stephen left that you were devastated. But I wasn’t sure what would happen to you if I let you wallow around for years. You wouldn’t put your talent to good use, you’d stay here for the rest of your life and never come out of your shell.”

“When I met Jack, as desperately as you both tried to hide the fact that there was anything between you two it was written so clearly on your face it was almost funny. I didn’t know what to think of him. But he’s the reason you’ve started to play again, am I correct?”

Y/N nodded, swiping her eyes for the few residual tears that had collected on her skin.

“So why do you think this would make him angry? I think you know just as well, if not better, than I do, that if anything, he’d be proud. I don’t think there’s a violent bone in that man’s body.” Diane gave her daughter a weak smile. “In fact, he reminds me a bit of your father, don’t you think?”

Y/N nodded in agreement.

“I am proud of you, Y/N,” she reached out, squeezing her daughter’s hand from across the table. “When I saw you play at the bar the other night, I felt like I was seeing you again for the first time in years.”

Y/N didn’t have many words to say. This was certainly not how she’d expected the conversation to go, she thought, if anything, she would have stormed out in the middle of it. Her mother’s revelation, however, was a lot to process.

“Thank you, mum,” she said quietly, looking down. “That means more than you may think.”

She ended up spending the evening at her mother's, they had a nice meal and talked more before Y/N retired for the evening. Despite the fact that she could have gone to bed then and there, after the advice from her mother she knew what she had to do.

Y/N wrote it all down. Everything she’d been doing for the past year she poured into one letter than ended up being five pages long, even after drafting and cutting out entire paragraphs, it was nearly a novel. Her hand was cramping by the end, but she wanted to finish it so she could get it in the mail by the next day.

She only hoped Collins would have the chance to read it and forgive her, she didn’t know if she could go on without knowing everything between them would be okay.

#dunkirk #dunkirk writing #dunkirk fanfiction #dunkirk series #collins #collins x reader #collins fanfiction #jack lowden #jack lowden x reader #jack lowden imagines #jack lowden fanfiction #collins imagine #collins x farrier #dunkirk cast #jack lowden fic

49 notes · View notes

savvylark · 8 years ago

Text

Not Your Mama’s Hallmark Christmas part 7

This is where the story ends.

You can catch up with Part 1 here - Part 2 here - Part 3 here - Part 4 here - Part 5 here - Part 6 here or read it all on Ao3 here

This chapter is rated M for sexual content. Reader be advised.

Katniss tends to be cynical about materialism, love, and marriage. Her friends have replaced the family she lost. So when Peeta needs help, her friends don’t need more than a strong arm to convince her. Katniss finds herself having a very different Christmas this year with the Mellark family, posing as Peeta’s girlfriend. What will change when this starts to look like a strange Hallmark movie?

Thank you to the amazing @javistg being my beta and encouraging. Thank you @peetabreadgirl for your ideas and support. @everlarkingjoshifer made this banner for me. Isn’t it lovely? Its been a fun ride I hope you enjoy the ending!

With a tired, weary look on his face, Peeta hands me a bouquet of wildflowers and a paper bag. “Hi, can we talk?”

I bite my lip and nod.

Annie and Joanna mumble something about being hungry and they head out quickly.

I try to keep my nerves from showing, but I don’t want to scowl either so I decide a distraction might be best.

I place the flowers in a vase.

Out of the bag, Peeta pulls out wine and cookies for us. I pour each of us a glass of wine and place them on the coffee table.

I can’t help the smile the spreads on my face.

Peeta brought over things that are just “us.”

Finally we’re seated for a conversation.

“How’s your dad?” I ask.

“Better. Much better, he’s at home. His wrist is in a cast, knee surgery is scheduled for next week. I’ll go back home for that.” Peeta says, his eyes won’t meet mine.

I nod and force a smile. “I’m happy to hear he’s doing so much better.”

He pauses and takes a nervous breath before asking, “Katniss, why did you leave early?”

I make eye contact with Peeta then, looking at my glass, I down the whole thing and pour myself another.

Okay, now I’m ready for this conversation.

“It was real for me, Peeta, and you rejected me. I just needed a little time to bounce back. Don’t look at me like that, you don’t need to soften the blow okay?” I take another sip.

“WHAT?!” Peeta looks confused.

“I don’t know when it happened, but it became real for me. I wasn’t pretending. I thought it was changing for you too. Christmas was just. Wow.” I sigh, then shake my head to clear my thoughts.

“It hurt to be rejected. Why are you surprised by this?” I ask, drawing even more confusion between us.

He reaches for my hand and pulls me closer. I flinch, but I can’t escape his gaze, or that look in his eyes. It’s mesmerizing.

“When I hear your phone call, I thought… Well, I heard you say we were ‘just friends, that’s it.’ I didn’t really listen to anything else after that.” He’s looking down now, sorrowful.

I remember saying that to Johanna, out of context that sounds cold.

His hand clasps mine tighter.

“So, when I said ‘I want to be with you?” I ask, sceptical.

“It didn’t even register. God, Katniss, when you left, I just felt a hole in my heart. Then my dad told me what he heard. Your whole phone call. I didn’t realize… I just didn’t…” Peeta rubs his face and tries to organize his thoughts.

“First of all, you met my parents? I didn’t have the greatest example of a fulfilling relationship growing up. I didn’t know it could be that great. Dating you, having you as mine, even just for pretend was the greatest relationship I’ve ever had. You’re smart, funny, sexy as hell, and we work so well together. I didn’t think I deserved you. I didn’t think I could have such a great match for me. Rye talked some sense into me. He explained that it was us together that made this amazing. That we’re two pieces of a puzzle that fit together.” Peeta explains.

I’m listening very intently with every word, until he mentions puzzle pieces and my thoughts turn less innocent. Focus.

He smirks and leans in to whisper. “That I was an idiot, and I was denying both of us something amazing, but being stubborn and wounded wasn’t doing either of us any good.”

I just stare, unable to speak.

Peeta brushes some hair out of my eyes and smiles. “I think I knew after our very first kiss. I was scared to fall so hard, tried to bury my feelings. I thought you were better off with someone else. I didn’t know what it meant for you. When I saw you in college at Gale’s party I thought maybe that was my second chance, you know? After the pictures of us were floating around, I saw the look on your face, embarrassment. I thought I really screwed up, so I gave you space. Being your friend was safer.”

Peeta pulls me closer with a serious look on his face. “But now,” he continues with a lower raspy voice, “I can’t let this, us, go. Not this time. I think I’m in love with you, Katniss Everdeen,” Peeta whispers.

Then, as if he can’t hold back any longer, he leans in to take my breath away in a fiery kiss.

I lean in for another.

Peeta pulls away and looks scared. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I want always, Katniss. I want a future with you. You’re it for me. If you don’t think… If you don’t feel the same… It might destroy me.” He looks down and sighs.

The past week flashes in my mind. The look in his eyes while we were ice skating. Hugging shirtless Peeta after the cocoa spilled. The longing for his kiss I felt after our snowball fight. Peeta’s hand in mine as he gripped it for strength at the party. The way he held me after I broke down crying after missing my father. All our laughter. All the games. The antics. The longing I felt for Peeta Mellark when I thought I had lost him.

Rye’s words echo “I love her, I want her, and I need her. For the rest of my life. Always.” And “It’s in all the little things you aren’t saying.”

Am I already there?

“Take some time to think about it?” He asks.

I nod.

Peeta stands and walks away.

For one heartbreaking instant, I think he’s going to leave, but instead he walks to the brown bag he brought.

“In the meantime, grab your swimsuit, Everdeen.” Peeta gives me a mischievous look, before pulling two super soakers and swim trunks out of the bag.

“I checked, the pool is open. We’re going swimming!” He grins and pushes me to the bedroom, and heads to my bathroom to change.

In my head, I replay every teenage fantasy of Peeta I ever had as I rifle through my clothes.

“There it is!” I say to myself.

I step out of my bedroom wearing my hunter green bikini, a different one than what I wore in my youth, but the sentiment remains. I barely have the door shut before Peeta pins me to the door and kisses me with such intensity that I’m dizzy.

Then, he hands me a super soaker and links our hands as if he didn’t just blow my mind.

The grin on my face can’t be contained.

As we walk through the hall to the pool, towels and his own super soaker in his other hand, Peeta asks “So would this be our second or third date?” Smiling at me, eyes twinkling.

I try minimize the blush on my face.

“Well, if ice skating was our first date, then would the party be our second date?” I ask, squinting at him.

“Hmm, seems lousy. What about Christmas, was that a date?” He says, kind of proud of himself.

“Well, with how the evening went, it kind of felt like a date.” I wink at him with a grin.

“So, this could be considered our third date then? Interesting.” Peeta says wiggling his raised eyebrows, as he playfully bumps my hip. We’ve reached the pool yet Peeta’s eyes rove up and down my suit.

I can’t hold back my laughter.

“Cool it lover boy.” I turn my water gun on him and squirt him square in the chest.

Peeta unleashes his own super soaker and it’s war. We laugh and chase, and dodge. I drop the water gun and attempt to wrestle Peeta into the pool, but he’s a worthy opponent. Peeta has me wet in under a minute.

When we come up for air, my arms are wrapped around his neck. I can’t take my eyes off this beautiful man.

I rest my forehead on his. Peeta plays with the end of my braid as we wade in the shallow end.

I’m brought back to the first time we found each other like this; dazed teenagers in Madge’s pool.

“You might think I’m pushing this too fast, but we’ve known each other since we were kids. I think I fell for you that summer before College. Imagining my future without you, Katniss, is devastating.”

He paused thoughtfully, stroking my back gently. “You’re going to see that a long term committed relationship is exactly what you want, and that we’re better together. Once you realize that, I’m never letting you go and I’m going to marry the shi–,” I cover his mouth with my fingers.

“Shhhh. Peeta, I think I’m already there.” I stop Peeta’s rambling. He nips at my fingers playfully, then his eyes widen and his jaw drops.

“It was Rye, actually. Hell, we need to give him a gift basket or something… Anyway, I was talking to your favorite brother and he told me about his own decision to marry Lila. How the look on my face said everything. He was right. Peeta, I’m in love with you. I-I never thought I wanted those things, but I want always with you.” I look at him seriously cupping his cheeks in my hands.

Peeta just stares back in disbelief, smiling as if I’ve given him the very sun.

When he kisses me I hope he never stops.

Somehow, we’ve made it to my bedroom. I’m dizzy with the hum of my body’s response to Peeta’s kisses.

“When I first saw you in a swimsuit I wanted to touch you like this,” I murmur my confession.

I can’t keep my hands from roving over every inch of his broad chest, muscular sculpted back, rippling abs. This gorgeous man is in a swimsuit in my bedroom.

“You have no idea how many fantasies I had of you like this in that bikini in my bed,” Peeta pants in my ear. The low husky tone his voice has taken does delicious things below my swimsuit bottoms. His hands are exploring me also, but some of it doesn’t register.

I’m so excited by every inch of Peeta I can see. My fingers inch their way down his rippling abs, past the V of is torso to the waistband of his swimsuit and I tease the sensitive skin just inside while I suck Peeta’s neck. I’m following this happy trail.

Hearing him sigh and pant in anticipation drives me wild.

I find his lips because I just crave his mouth on mine. Tongues collide and dance.

Peeta turns us over and his kisses trail down my neck and collarbone. I’m so delirious with the sensation I don’t realize my top being untied until I feel lips trailing to suck my nipple.

“Ah, they’re perfect, Katniss!” Peeta whispers against my skin.

The panting and moaning that follow the sensation are so involuntary they don’t even sound like me. I didn’t know I could make such a guttural noise. I am deliciously turned on and aware of every movement of Peeta’s body on mine. My legs wrap around his waist in search of friction, more of… something.

I can’t get enough of Peeta. I’m starving for him.

My hands find his muscular round legs and wander upward. He’s so manly and chiseled.

Normally, I’m much more vulnerable and self conscious with my body, but I’m so overcome with wanting Peeta that it doesn’t even concern me.

Finally, I can’t handle how much I want him. I rip down his swim trunks. Little peeta springs fourth and he is glorious. The sight of Peeta naked takes my breath away. Clearly I had been drinking too much on Christmas to appreciate this masterpiece before me. My mouth waters.

I think I startle him with my aggression, because he’s looking at me with raised eyebrows, jaw hanging, as I rid him of his suit.

I tease and kiss a trail up each thigh until I just can’t take the anticipation of making Peeta moan. With the first swip of my tongue all the way up, Peeta’s breath hitches. I make eye contact as I continue to lick and suck. His eyes wide and dilated. Deep blue pools of desire. This man is SO sexy. I speed up my ministrations.

Peeta is panting and moaning something like my name. He pulls one of my legs, spinning me in a circle. I squeak and readjust. I realize the purpose of this when I feel Peeta’s magical hands trailing up my legs to my hot core, rubbing my slick folds and teasing me until hot kisses roam up my legs.

I stop my movements to catch my breath only to have it stolen away by Peeta’s tongue lapping up my folds before plunging into my center. I moan and hum deep in my throat, my mouth waters, I suck and bob, teasing and “giggling his bells.”

Continuing my mission of blowing Peeta’s… mind.

“Ooooooh, Katniss!” Might be the sweetest words of pleasure, stirring me to the very core. I’m shaking.

This isn’t going to take much longer for either or us. The pressure Peeta adds, along with his moaning, sends me over the edge, reeling with waves of pleasure. I swallow as Peeta shouts. With the stars behind my eyelids, Peeta’s blinding smile and blue eyes flash. Tears come to my eyes as I sing Peeta’s name.

He lifts me into his arms and holds me tight while I catch my breath. Gentle kisses on my neck are accompanied with words of affection and adoration.

Our eyes meet, and I see the most intense look of love reflected in Peeta’s eyes. As if to confirm that what I’m reading in his eyes is true, he kisses me passionately, pouring out the love he feels with a pressure and intensity that leave me dizzy.

His hands and eyes continue to explore and study my every curve and dip.

“God, I didn’t know I could feel like this. Katniss, you’re amazing!” Peeta whispers.

“Takes two to tango. Do you know how sexy you are?” My voice comes out more raspy then I expected. I smile and play with his hair.

He shakes his head and grins, eyes twinkling, like a boy who just opened his Christmas presents.

His hands are wondering between my legs again. When my breath hitches, he studies my face. Asking permission. “We can stop here if you want.” he whispers, trailing kisses down my neck.

I smile and shake my had no, I don’t want to stop. With a mischievous look, I do my best imitation of his own smirk, I tell Peeta “The only sleigh I’ll be riding is–,”

I’m cut off by his lips. We’re laughing between kisses.

A brief contraception conversation settles it.

Our other encounters have been rushed and lustful. This is more meaningful and vulnerable. I bite my lower lip, our eyes connect and say all the little things we mean to each other without words. This is love.

Peeta leans up to capture my lips. Electric surges through my whole body from where our lips connect. His eyes widen. He felt it too. I settle myself over him and spread my legs. Peeta gets that smoldering look. The crackle in the air is electric. Anticipation.

As if something has snapped, Peeta is all over me. Igniting me. With every touch, every caress, it’s as if sparks fly. A smoldering fire builds. I fist Peeta, aline us and slink down. With our first connection my breath is taken away. Peeta’s deep voice moaning my name sends a buzz through me that makes me dizzy. Our movements build. It’s a blur of rhythmic rocking, waves of ecstasy, moans and sighs. I can’t even focus on just one sensation.

The things Peeta’s body can do!

Our loving making is passionate and consuming. Evoking deeper feelings of love I didn’t know I had buried within me. Peeta rocks my world again, buried deep inside me. The connection felt something like introducing my other half. Feeling a wholeness I can’t even describe, leaving me enlightened. The world as I know it has changed.

“I love you.” Peeta whispers in my ear.

After 3 rounds of the best sex of my life, maybe the best the world has ever seen? Peeta and I are emotionally and physically drained. We curl into each other’s arms and fall fast asleep.

“Woah, Katniss. Are you doing this in your sleep?” Peeta whispers, amazed and amused.

I open my eyes to find I’ve been dry humping the man in my bed. Emulating the dream I was having of making love to Peeta.

“Uh, yeah.” I answer, embarrassed as I pull into a more innocent cuddle in Peeta’s arms, trying to keep the heat flowing through my body under control.

Peeta seems thrilled. He kisses my cheek and sighs. “Oh no, don’t be embarrassed! You’re a wild one, Everdeen. I thought I was dreaming.”

We slip back into a blissful sleep.

I wasn’t ready to elope like Peeta wanted to, but I understand after everything he went through with Cashmere, and our fake relationship, why Peeta wanted a long term commitment.

On New Year’s Eve, Peeta took me for hot chocolate in town, and we strolled through the displays of ice sculptures carved by local artists. I stopped at a more plain looking one. It was a question, written in cursive on an ice block. Four words.

I smiled. “Peeta look! Someone’s going to…”

I turn and find my blue-eyed Peeta, down on one knee, holding his grandmother’s pearl ring meant for a very important finger.

With tears in his eyes, he poured out his heart out to me, beautiful words of love, memories and laughter together, words of a future, of always.

I realized he probably already had my heart. From our very first kiss, I was a goner for Peeta Mellark.

Words are Peeta’s thing, not mine so, as he waxed poetic, my answer was: “You had me at cookies and super soakers.”

He looked confused, then laughed.

“Is that your way of saying yes?” Peeta’s words are teasing but his eyes are full of hope and apprehension.

I ruined his sweet romantic moment, I had better bring it back. I sigh and pull back the mask of humor I wear as armor.

“I want forever with you Peeta,” I answer surprising myself.

We embraced and kissed passionately.

As Peeta placed the ring on my finger, the crowd I didn’t realize had gathered around us started cheering. I tried to ignore a few flashes of cameras –one turned out to be Peeta’s that he had Thresh take.

I turn to face the crowd and I’m met with familiar faces. Thresh, Rue and Prim’s smiles first as they were in on the plan. Then my best friend and his beaming new fiance, standing next to my roommate, elbowing Annie who’s wiping tears out of her eyes while Peeta’s best friend gives a thumbs up with a mile wide grin.

My family is all here to celebrate. We all agree to go to the Hob down the street for soup and sandwiches.

Peeta laces our fingers together and strokes the pearl with the thumb of his other hand. Then, he looks up at me with a smile that makes me go weak in the knees.

The entire world fades away as I’m taken captive by his blue eyes that speak depths of love and years of adventures ahead.

The End. Happy Holidays!

#not your mamas hallmark christmas #everlark #everlark christmas #everlark holiday #holiday fic #smut #this is the end #happy holidays

107 notes · View notes

madstars-festival · 5 years ago

Text

INTERWEAVE’S FREDERICO ROBERTO JOINS OUR FINAL JURY

It’s an honour to have Portugal-born, London-based creative Frederico Roberto on our Final Jury at AD STARS 2020.

Born and raised in Portugal, Frederico Roberto says that solving problems has been his life's mission ever since he used to dismantle his brother's toys and try and reassemble them, usually unsuccessfully, as a kid.

Today, he is Executive Creative Director at Interweave in London – a digital marketing agency that is headquartered in Athens. He is heading up the creative vision for its new London office.

Before Interweave, he was Global Creative Director at OLIVER inside Unilever’s U-Studio. Outside of work, he is a self-confessed movie geek, tech nerd, gadgets aficionado and video games addict. Welcome to our jury, Frederico!

You joined Interweave four months ago in the midst of the coronavirus crisis. How are things going?

It's going great. Interweave's expansion plans were in the making for more than a year, and obviously no one could foresee the COVID-19 pandemic. Being a Greek agency, based in Athens, Interweave knows all about resiliency and thriving in an environment that's adverse. That's why it wanted to set up shop in London from the get-go. It made total sense in a post-Brexit context to help the UK regain its importance, its role, globally, by looking inwards into its own industries, its own expertise and what makes it great.

Now, in a post COVID-19 era, it makes even more sense. Interweave’s core value is that 'We truly care' about the stuff we're involved with. That was the whole reason why Aigli Balamatsi, our founder and CEO, started the agency in the first place 7 years ago, at the height of the devastating financial crisis that dragged Greece downwards. By focusing on what Greece had to offer, Interweave became a key societal agent to help the country make a strong comeback in less than 5 years. The same has happened now. Interweave was the Greek government agency that helped with all the COVID-19 awareness campaigns, helping the country become the first to effectively lockdown and successfully come out on top of this situation. And it's not over yet. So, there are lots of opportunities out there, both in the UK and in Greece, to do work that's truly culturally impactful.

You like to break rules. What rules have you been breaking lately?

We're trying to do something truly unique with Interweave London. When the invitation was addressed to me to head the creative vision for the UK, my first question was, "Who needs another agency in London?" But the fact is we have something that nobody else has: at our heart, we want to do good. We believe that brands and companies can be amazing forces of change in our societies and impact people's lives positively with their products and services. So, we want to bring more of those "agents of change" together. Like the Avengers. We're Nick Fury and we assemble the best teams, from any sector, and we try to effectively drive change and transform business through creativity. That to me is breaking the rules of the classic agency/holding company model.

You spent two years at OLIVER inside Unilever's U-Studio. What did you enjoy most about the in-house agency model?

The relationships with the brand directors and setting up the culture of an agency inside a client. I joined OLIVER after 17 years of 'traditional' and digital agencies. I was already a Creative Lead for the past 6 or 7 years and I felt the need to work more collaboratively with key stakeholders, understand their businesses beyond comms, beyond marketing. Understand all of their processes, from distribution to retail, to spot creative opportunities. Working on-site, side-by-side with the 300+ UNILEVER brands was mind-blowing. A fast-paced environment, super agile, super eager to do good work with minimum fuss and all-in access to the decision makers 24/7. For a creative, that's heaven.

In 3 years (2 with me there) we opened 23 U-Studios around the world and built a global team of almost 500 people. We quickly became UNILEVER's biggest digital agency. And there's no signs of that stopping. OLIVER truly innovated with its on-site model and I'm very happy that I was part of that. Our industry frowns upon on-site agencies, as if creativity is limited to or by four walls. That's ridiculous. When you live and breathe creativity, you find your moments and your culture of delivering truly impactful work.

Diversity is a big topic around the world, and Unilever is one of the companies that is leading the way. How can agencies do better at diversity?

They have to start putting their money where their mouth is and hire differently. And then I hear, "Well, we hire by talent, not race, nationality or gender". Bollocks. If you're confident that you've a good creative culture and you're a good creative lead, you train that talent. Because that person of colour, that woman, that foreigner will come with life experience. That's what you're hiring. It's that simple. Give people the opportunity to do things differently. Start with the hiring process.

Do you ever struggle with advertising’s role in selling people things they may not need? Is there a meaningful campaign you’re especially proud of making?

No. No struggle. Not really. Truly great work taps into a need. That need can be more or less primary, for sure, but it's always a need. I really don't understand how people can work in advertising and criticize what they do or the wider capitalist society they live in. It's not perfect, for sure, but it's what sets most of the western world. This said, I do love a particular campaign me and my team created at VML for Colgate, where we helped reach out to millions of women around Europe to position their whitening toothpaste as part of their beauty routine. We celebrated all types of beauty and the potential of a makeup-free face in the morning, to do whatever their mood is that day. It was great, ground-breaking for the category and truly meaningful.

You recently wrote on Medium about the need to “care more”. In what ways do agencies need to care more?

There's a lot of talk about brands with purpose. And I believe in them. But I'm more purist than that and I like to just call it "do the right thing". That's it. Most of the times all companies need to do is disregard their board members' pay checks. Or at least that’s part of it, I know this is very romantic. Bernbach said: "It's not a principle until it costs you money". Care means doing the right thing by team members, partners and clients. Showing loyalty. In the long run, it will pay off. It always does.

The worst-case scenario is that you have paid, literally, to learn that team member A or Client B were not worth having in the fold. And that's ok. But agencies are not caring enough about their role and responsibility in reaching out to millions of people out there. They have an active voice and sometimes they're actively choosing not to use it. Crazy!

What makes you angry? What brings you joy? What sets your soul on fire?

It's very hard for me to get mad or angry. I guess, lack of ambition or drive kind of disappoints me a bit. Sometimes I see it in some team members, for various reasons, professional and personal, and as a team leader, I have to be able to adapt and manage all those energies properly, in the most human of ways. And sometimes you don't have to manage at all. You just have to unleash creativity. That's what I love. To just go wild creatively and explore what's out there, invent what’s not there. I use to say that my creative KPI is when I hear an idea and the hair from the back of my neck goes up. That's when I know we're on to something.

You founded a networking group called International Creatives in London. How does the London advertising scene compare to Portugal: Is it more cut-throat? More challenging?

I've been in the UK for 7 years now, and in the beginning it was a bit of a clash, obviously. Things took their time in London, a lot of money is involved, a lot of big projects, big responsibilities. I was coming from a small market, where everything is for 'next week', budgets are smaller and in which ideas had to really work hard to cut through. London also pigeonholes quite a lot the talent. If you do TV, you only do TV. If you do social, you only do social. If you have beer sector experience, you're only sought out to do beer projects. It's extremely restrictive and to be frank, silly. But, slowly but surely, I've adapted and always tried to bring a bit of mischief to this paradigm.

The International Creatives London was born out of this need to help newcomers to adapt faster and smoothly to a new culture, both the day-to-day and agency life. So we'd often exchange tips and tricks on how to present work, engage Creative Directors, etc. But also, to celebrate London. And how such an amazing, multicultural city thrives with its diverse, buzzing vibe. That's how creativity flourishes. Through differences.

Is it true you’re interested in space exploration? Are you working on any intergalactic projects now?

Ha! I wish. But no. Not at the moment. I've presented a couple of times a keynote on Space Brands, on which marketing powerhouses will lead the space exploration industry. The usual suspects like Apple, NIKE and others will surely be out there (literally), but I'm sure we'll have some surprises. I just love the fact that space became a thing again. During Carnival and Halloween, you can see kids dressing up as astronauts again like in the late ’60s. It's really powerful culturally, and it's probably the only thing in the world that unites us as people.

Why did you agree to judge the AD STARS 2020 Awards, and what are you most looking forward to?

Over the past few years I've been travelling a lot to the East. And there's a culture of making stuff happen that's refreshing and you don't see it all that often in the western world. It's tech with a purpose, tech as a lifestyle, it's money and visionaires to back big projects up and it's a melting pot of SO many cultures. It's the second time I'm judging the Korean AD STARS, and for me as a creative, it's very inspiring – and different! – to be in contact with work and styles that I normally wouldn't. And that's what you need to chase.

* Preliminary judging for the AD STARS 2020 Awards is now underway, with winners announced on August 22 via ADSTARS.org. Good luck to this year’s entrants!

#interweavelondon

0 notes

yasbxxgie · 7 years ago

Link

“Music is a cutthroat, disrespectful, low-life, motherfucking, crab-ass, lyin’, deceivin’, stab-you-in-the-back type of business, and that’s just the good part of it!” Darryl “DMC” McDaniels laughs (perhaps channeling Hunter S Thompson’s famous line about the record business). We’re discussing the Devastating Mic Controller’s autobiography Ten Ways Not to Kill Yourself, which he has also forcefully voiced as an audiobook.

It is a raw, revealing memoir which bleeds like a stab wound. “I’m an addict,” writes DMC, the man who rhymed so enduringly about the crack epidemic on Mary, Mary. “For most of my early life, I smoked and snorted and guzzled my way through almost every day.”

Lowering his booming voice a little, he adds: “If your soul is not right with what you’re doing, you will fall apart, like I did.”

When Eminem inducted Run-DMC into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2009, the second hip-hop group to make it after Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, he called them “something tough. Something dangerous. Something beautiful and something unique. They were the first movie stars of rap … they are the Beatles”.

“That’s crazy,” DMC tells me, friendly and loquacious, sitting in his New Jersey home. “Busta Rhymes said, ‘Run-DMC didn’t change music, they changed everything’.”

DMC, Joe “Run” Simmons and their DJ Jason “Jam Master Jay” Mizell were hip-hop’s first superstars. Between 1983 and 1988 the albums Run-DMC, King of Rock, Raising Hell and Tougher Than Leather unleashed classic tracks such as Hard Times, It’s Tricky, Proud to Be Black, Mary, Mary, and Walk This Way. (Later highlights include Ghostbusters and Bounce.) “Run-DMC were so exciting live,” Jurassic 5’s Chali 2na told me.

Despite all Run-DMC’s success, after Tougher Than Leather DMC collapsed into alcoholism, depression and OCD, as he increasingly lost his voice to spasmodic dysphonia, in which the larynx spasms during speech. For years, he recalls, he suffered suicidal thoughts. He had rising creative and personal conflicts with producer Russell Simmons, Jay and, especially, Run (“anal as hell”). His childhood friendship with Run degenerated into a dysfunctional business relationship. DMC felt hustled by Run’s pastor E Bernard Jordan. By 1997, he “avoided Run like a virus”. In Japan later that year, hawking remixes (one of which, Jason Nevins’s take on It’s Like That, was nevertheless an international smash, selling 5m copies), DMC “felt used, pimped and dirty … Milk this cow till there’s powdered music coming out the udders.”

When Ice-T asked Run how it was being top of the rap game, Run famously recalled an epiphany on excess – consuming the best of everything: presidential suites, women and drugs: “The ho’s knocking at the door. Rolling Stone’s behind the ho … I’m fuckin’ out of control.” DMC demurs: “I was never on it like him … Run and Jay smoked more weed than a Rastafarian god could grow.”

Around 2002 things came to a head when Jay was murdered in his Hollis recording studio, DMC discovered he was adopted, and his father died. Despite a serious bout of alcohol-induced pancreatitis years earlier, DMC surrendered to industrial-scale drinking, downing “case of 40s every day”. He had a fridge in his SUV. Even when walking anywhere, a guy in his crew carried around beer in a portable chiller.

DMC realised he had to get real about rehab. He also found counselling helpful. “Therapy is the most gangsta thing you can do,” he says. His ultimate salvation, though, was his wife Zury and his son Dson.

Raised Catholic but “enjoying a wild time on the road rather than worrying about my eternal soul”, DMC now believes a higher, personal power lives within all of us. “I don’t care what you wanna call god: Yahweh, Buddha, Almighty, Allah, whatever you wanna call her. I think God’s a woman ’cause my wife and mother are so cool.”

DMC is a Hillary Clinton supporter. “I’ve seen her, working in the community for foster kids. I fell in love with her ’cause she really cares about young people.” Clinton also reminds him of his mum. “Your mother can read bullshit, knows how to bring shit to order.”

He believes Run DMC’s last three albums were “really awful” – and The School of Old, featuring Kid Rock, on 2001’s Crown Royal certainly was – in striking contrast to the previous quartet, dedicated to uplifting America. This year DMC put out a single Flames (Unnecessary Bullets), a call to stop all the violence. Did he draw on Fred Hampton Jr’s message that “we don’t fight racism with racism. We fight racism with solidarity”? “Oh for sure. That’s absolutely what Flames is about.”

youtube

DMC is angry about police killing black people. “Those bullets should not have left the chambers.” He was moved by Dallas police chief David Brown’s “I’ll be loving you always” eulogy for his five murdered cops. “That was incredible!” he exclaims. He’s also impressed with Brown’s community policing approach, and that he has fired more than 70 sub-standard officers. “We’ve got to go through all of America’s precincts, one by one, and weed out all the bad weeds.”

He raises murders within African American communities, recounting a recent forum. “A young girl gets up and says: ‘Here’s the truth, DMC: when a white cop shoots a black kid that’s wrong, but when a black kid shoots another black kid that’s how it is in the hood.’ That hit me in the gut. I said ‘Damn, that’s the fight right there’. It goes deep: I remember when Jay got shot …”

Jay’s murder remains unsolved. Does DMC think anyone will ever be charged? “Nope. I really, really don’t think so,” he sighs. A 2012 New York Daily Newsarticle alleged people in Hollis know who did it, but are too scared to tell the police. “Yes, too scared.” He quotes the perspective of someone living in Hollis. “‘Jay travelled and they got Jay. I’ve got to live here everyday. I’ve got my wife and kids.’” DMC believes in an afterlife. “You will see Jay again,” he says, quoting the last line of Run-DMC’s Peter Piper. “You will. Right now he’s jamming in heaven with Biggie and Kurt Cobain.”

DMC says contemporary hip-hop is overwhelmed by mediocre rap. “So illiterate, so disrespectful, so negative. Here in America, you can be a motherfuckin’ fool, as long as you’re making money. If you get a young positive brother talking like a Chuck D or a KRS-One or a Rakim, America don’t want to hear from you. We need to go to these radio stations and say we don’t wanna just hear these same 10 records about sipping syrup, having sex and shooting motherfuckers.”

DMC argues that hip-hop should be more about self-esteem, self-respect and “the force of education”. As he does frequently during our interview, he busts out a burst of verse, words from Raising Hell’s closing track: “I’m proud to be black yo.”

He would love to see Public Enemy’s Chuck D shaking things up as a producer industry-wide. “A lot of motherfuckers would be fired. It would be a total re-haul in this music business. Ninety-nine percent of rap today is bad demos. It’s about responsibility. It’s not about censorship and freedom of speech. We let corporate America come in and exploit us, tell us how to do our own hip-hop. You get more money if you’re a knucklehead … In the 80s we challenged Reaganomics.”

Today, DMC is enjoying making music again. “I don’t need no substances.” He’s working on Coming Like a Rhino, a new track with Chuck D, which aims to cross Rebel Without a Pause and Time Bomb. “We’re about to put the foot of God in the ass of the industry, in all rappers to come, the rappers that are still in their fathers’ nuts. Let ’em know they don’t call Chuck the hard rhymer and DMC the King of Rock for nothing. I’m just 52. I’m not a fuckin’ senior citizen. Coming Like a Rhino’s not for recognition; not for sales. Just dope ass beats and dope ass rhymes. Ain’t nothing better than that.”

1 note · View note

lady-divine-writes · 8 years ago

Text

Kurtbastian one-shot - “The Pain” (Rated PG13)

While Sebastian evaluates new recruits for the Ice-plex's J.V. hockey team, one of his wannabes gets in hot water with Kurt when he cuts off a figure skater.

Tensions run high and secrets are revealed. (2093 words)

Part 12 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

“Alright! Thank you so much, guys and gals, for showing up to this year’s hockey team tryouts!” Sebastian glides down the line of potential recruits, dropping pucks in front of them while he speaks. “It’s been a long three days of drills, but we’ve finally narrowed it down to you guys.” Sebastian stops to give the kids in front of him - holding their sticks at the ready, waiting for their chance to be unleashed and show their stuff - a stern once over. “You should be proud of yourselves. That’s a huge accomplishment.” They hold themselves a little straighter, a little taller for Sebastian saying that. “Before we begin, a little background for those of you who may not already know ...”

Sebastian knows a handful will already know what he’s about to say. These kids have been raised at this rink. They could skate before they could walk. Sebastian has seen a few of them grow up here. He’s been their junior coach for the past five years.

God. He’s only a teenager and already he feels like an old man.

“Westerville Ice-plex has four leagues – junior boys, junior girls, and our two co-ed top tiers, J.V. and Varsity. J.V. are the Ice Dragons and Varsity are the Fighting Titans. You guys are here to become … Dragons.” The boys and girls clap and high five one another. “The Westerville Ice Dragons are not just any team. We don’t just win tournaments and bring home trophies. We also do exhibitions, volunteer workshops, charity events, community service, highway cleanups, you name it. Becoming a member of this team isn’t only about your skills on the ice, it’s about who you are as a person. Yes, we have only one captain and one co-captain, but all of you are expected to be leaders. In order to stay on this team, we need to see community involvement outside of the rink, and we need to see good grades. If you need help in either of these areas, we have more than enough people here to help you. But if you start to lag without asking for help, you’ll be removed to second string. Is that understood?”

“Yes, coach,” the kids say, staggered between nervous swallows.

“90% of the players who have ever been on either the J.V. or Varsity team have received offers of scholarships to some of the best schools in the nation. Ice Dragons and Fighting Titans from the past three decades have attended every Ivy League school in the country. Our players are so sought after that one of the Titans’ best goalies received the offer of a full scholarship to Penn State, and he only played one season.”

“Wow.”

“That’s amazing!”

“Who is that, coach?”

“Oh, you’ve all seen him if you skate here regularly, you probably just don’t know it.” Sebastian smiles deviously. “We call him The Pain.”

“Why? Is he a jerk?” one girl scoffs.

“No,” Sebastian says with a hint of glower. “He’s the best goaltender we’ve ever had. Faster than lightning, almost superhuman fast. He can anticipate most any move. And he’s fearless. No one could get anything by him. That made him a pain in the ass,” Sebastian grumbles, acknowledging that that means he couldn’t get anything by him either. “Anyway, we have five spots opening up and seven of you, so obviously a few of you will not be making first string.”

“Make that eight.” Another boy, suited up and with stick in his hand, slides to a stop at the end of the line. “Sorry I’m late, coach. I had a little trouble making my way over here.” He jabs a thumb behind him, but Sebastian doesn’t follow it, focused on the boy who skidded in over fifteen minutes late as if that kind of behavior would be excused.

“You know, we value punctuality on this team,” Sebastian says, arms crossed, “so this doesn’t look good for you.”

“Sorry,” the boy says, not sounding all that sorry. “Like I said, not my fault.”

“Hey! Hey you!”

Sebastian looks over the boy’s shoulder when he hears his boyfriend’s voice, and even though he sounds madder than hell, Sebastian can’t help smiling.

“Hey, Kurt. What’s up?”

“Your little latecomer there almost knocked over a figure skater!”

Sebastian looks at the boy for a reaction. There’s really only one acceptable reaction in this situation … and the boy doesn’t give it.

“Well, they need to learn to get their fruity asses out of our way,” he says with a superior smirk.

Kurt slides to a stop – a hockey stop in his razor sharp figures - spraying the boy’s skates with snow, which makes him seethe. “They’re practicing in their section!” Kurt says, leaning in to talk into the cage of the boy’s helmet. “You have no right to cut them off! We’re sharing this rink until the other one’s resurfaced! No sport takes precedence on the ice here!”

“Uh, I’d check again,” the boy has the nerve to clap back, “because last I looked, hockey has the tallest trophy in the case after last Friday’s game.” He glances to the side, expecting support from the other hopefuls in line, but they’ve already started to back away.

Sebastian can see Kurt getting steadily angrier, but he manages to keep his cool. “Well then I’d get your eyes examined because technically, after last Sunday’s competition, figure skating has the tallest trophy. I know because it happens to be mine. And I’m telling you that no sport here takes precedence on the ice. You knock over one of my skaters, and you’re out of this rink. I don’t care who you are or what team you’re on. And there isn’t a single coach here, junior or senior, who won’t back me up.”

The boy rolls his eyes but Kurt doesn’t let that rile him. He looks at Sebastian, staring back at the two of them with hard eyes, and says, “Keep your boy in check, Smythe. This is the only warning he gets.”

Sebastian nods. “You got it.”

Kurt turns on his blades and heads across the ice.

“That’s right,” the boy mutters. “Sashay away.” The boy flips his stick and taps the heel on the ice, knocking one of the pucks into another. He takes a peek around. No one’s paying attention to him. Coach is watching that obnoxious figure skater skate towards the penalty box while the other kids trying out for the team have clustered as far away from him as possible, not even trying to be inconspicuous.

Then there’re the line of pucks, sitting on the ice, in perfect firing formation.

At that moment, he decides that there’s no reason for him to be the outcast here. He didn’t do anything wrong. Everyone knows that hockey is where the money is for any rink worth a shit.

So he’s not about to be told off by a frickin’ figure skater.

Sebastian doesn’t know how Kurt sees it. Sebastian didn’t see it, too preoccupied with watching Kurt skate and trying to decide how best to handle his newest troublemaker. The odds of him being Ice Dragon material are slim, but he can’t just cut him loose now. But what if he causes problems later on? With that attitude, how the heck did he even make it this far?

However Kurt sees it, thank God he does, because a hit from a puck at speed anywhere on the body can devastate a skater, hence the full body armor hockey players wear during every game. Rink management even requires that their hockey players wear skates with Kevlar guards after one player’s career ended when a shot to the ankle shattered the bone. A strike anywhere on Kurt’s body could be a career ender, and if not, the amount of time it would take him to recover might derail him regardless.

But Kurt swivels out of the way just in time to avoid a puck to the thigh. He storms back over, a glare in his blue eyes that would stop a charging bull elephant in its tracks.

The boy chuckles nervously, backing away in surrender with arms raised. “Oops! Sorry about that. That one just slipped.”

“I’ll bet,” Kurt says. Sebastian arrives at his side in a second without any idea if he skated over to hold Kurt back, or to hold the kid down while Kurt punches him. “Shooting a puck with the intention of striking another skater is grounds for immediate disqualification from any team at Westerville Ice-plex. Get off the ice.”

The boy’s smile turns into a scowl. “What!?”

“He’s right,” Sebastian says. “Get to stepping. Now.”

“No way! This is bogus!!”

“No, what’s bogus is you thinking you could assault another skater and get away with it,” Kurt says. “You’re lucky I don’t report you to the police!” The boy looks relieved until Kurt adds, “But I am reporting you to the league. Don’t expect to skate in competition any time soon.”

The boy stares for a second, mouth agape, searching for the right cutting remark that won’t just win his argument, but get him on the team. That would show up that stupid figure skater! It would shut him up real good. But, in the end, he decides it’s not worth it. There are other teams, better teams … somewhere. He’s sure that there’s no way they can make good on their threat. They can’t keep him from playing.

He’ll show them.

“Whatevs,” he says, taking his stick and skating off the ice. He cuts through the penalty box to avoid coming into contact with anyone else. Sebastian watches him go until he disappears into the lobby and he can’t see him anymore.

“I gotta send my kids to the other rink.” Kurt gives Sebastian a reassuring smile and skates away. Sebastian sighs. More than likely, that kid gets his attitude problem from his parents. Parents, in Sebastian’s experience, tend to be more aggressive than the players, and that’s really sad, because a player like that boy, with an admittedly kickass slapshot, might end up benched because he can’t get his ego or his attitude under control. But Lord knows he probably didn’t start out that way the first time he strapped on skates.

Sebastian’s mom used to say there are no bad kids, only bad parents. He used to think that was a stupid excuse, that everyone is responsible for their own actions no matter what their age. But the more bad kids he meets, the more bad parents he sees.

The more the saying fits.

“Now that that’s over, let’s get these tryouts rolling, shall we?” Sebastian says, finding his upbeat attitude again. “You’re going to give me ten laps around the ice. You’re going to give me twenty pushups on your fists. You’re going to show me your best shoot the duck, Russian lunges, belly slides, knees spins, and edge work. And after you’ve warmed up, you’ll be evaluated - individually and as a group. This isn’t the time for showboating. Your best chance at earning a spot is by showing us you’re willing to put the good of the team above yourselves. We wanna see how you handle the puck, how you pass, how you shoot, and how you approach the goal.”

One girl raises her hand, and Sebastian points to her. “Yes?”

“You keep saying we, coach.”

“Yup,” Sebastian says. “We.”

“Is that like … the royal we?”

“He would say so.”

The boys and girls look around, but they don’t see anyone else except a spattering of figure skaters exiting the ice, and Kurt, circling back their way.

“Who’s he coach?”

“Yeah. Who’s gonna evaluate us?”

Kurt stops beside Sebastian, giving the boys and girls a bright new smile and a wave, as if the tension from before had never happened.

“Hey, guys,” he says. “Let’s get down to business.”

The kids look down the line at one another, confused, but Sebastian puts a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and smiles.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I believe you all know Kurt Hummel - ten time gold medalist and the pride of Westerville Ice-plex.”

Sebastian hands Kurt his hockey stick. He weighs it in his hands, then flips it around his wrist. It spins three times before he catches it, slapping the blade on the ice. Only then do the kids notice that Kurt has changed out of his figures and into hockey skates.

“But around here,” Sebastian continues, “we call him The Pain.”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

34 notes · View notes

kitsunesbooks · 8 years ago

Text

Re:Creators: My Favorite Anime of Spring 2017

As a writer who happens to dabble in the realms of philosophy, often do questions arise that entertain me for hours on end. I’ve sometimes found myself asking what it would be like to see my characters face to face. I’ve wondered what they would think of me, would we get along or would they all hate me for pitting them against such harsh environments and situations? It’s funny to think about things like this because I’m sure everyday people wonder what they would do if they met their god. It’s just that in this instance, I represent the god, as prideful and cocky as that sounds. Nevertheless, it��s been my belief for awhile now that an artist is the closest thing that humanity has come to becoming gods. Through art, and especially story telling, entire worlds can come into existence. This is the kind of subject material that Re: Creators tackles.

Re: Creators is for all intents and purposes, an isekai story. Isekai being that very prevalent anime trope/sub genre of story where the main character gets trapped in a fantasy world. However, to keep things somewhat fresh, the fantasy world comes into our world, or at least a version of our world. Within Re:Creators, characters from anime, manga, and videogames somehow make their way out into the real world and engage in kickass battles and debates on metaphysics. So if you know anything about me from the articles I’ve written, then you’ve figured out that I am 100% in on this show. The action and meat of the plot is great and all but it's all the metaphysics and mechanics of this universe that keep me thoroughly entertained. The conversations that occur between “creations” and “creators” are in depth and thought provoking. In a way, this anime is some bizarre form of wish fulfillment because I am actually getting theoretical answers to my questions.

The beauty of Re:Creators is how it takes characters who, for all intents and purposes, fit into strict archetypes and then slowly bends them to conform to our world’s rules. While using archetypes as a basis for character development is nothing new to storytelling, Re:Creators more or less bends the archetypes themselves through the small tidbits of character development shown throughout the series. One of the best characters in the entire show thus far is Magical Slayer Mamika. Mamika is a magical girl from what essentially is knock off Sailor Moon. As an added bonus, her design is heavily reminiscent of Madoka from Madoka Magica, which sort of helps to further cement her development and almost poke fun at a certain trope. Mamika basically tears apart the idea that injecting some “realism” into a magical girl story is in someway nuanced. While Madoka gets credit for making it work, it has opened the floodgates for a ton of really bad, edgy magical girl stories that are honestly hot garbage. Mamika however is more based in actual reality as opposed to realism. The first instance we see of Mamika is her fight with another “creation,” Selesia. Mamika recklessly goes all out and unleashes some devastating magic on her opponent with complete disregard to her surroundings. If this were any other character in any other show, she would be written off as just an asshole or a generic “sadist” character. However, when Mamika realizes that rules of our world conflict with her own, it shocks her. She came from a children’s magical girl show. Basically a Saturday morning cartoon. There isn’t any blood in her world and morality is all black and white for the most part. It is a simplistic world with little thought put into it and Mamika’s first interaction in our world is incredibly evident of that.

That first battle Mamika experiences is what sets her character arc into motion and has pretty much made her one of the best characters in the series thus far. Her eventual turnaround was very well paced and written and I hope we get to see just as much inventive and clever writing for all of our cast members. Mamika goes through a rampant sequence of development during the more recent episodes. We see that she still clings to her sense of morals but also shows that she is even willing to go against her own friends when they are doing something wrong. Mamika wants nothing more than peace, which makes sense given her source material. However, instead of Mamika’s judgement being simple minded as it would be in any magical girl show, or the plot focusing on how depressing her situation is, we see her learn and adapt. Her sense of justice doesn’t waver and instead adapts to the morals of our own world as she fights to protect both sides. All she wants is for the fighting to stop and for no one to be killed, and when she finally makes up her mind on what side to take, her actions have that much more weight behind them. Being the type of character she is, she shows everyone kindness, even the villains of this story, especially given they don’t match the archetypes of villains in a typical kid’s show. To Mamika, the villains of Re:Creators aren’t villains at all, they are just people who want to do bad things with good intentions. I could go on and on about Mamika’s character arc, but you are more than likely better off checking out the video Mother’s Basement put out on Re:Creators. Geoff does a, MUCH, better job at analyzing these characters than I do. Nevertheless, Mamika gives you just a taste of the kind of meta story Re:Creators is and honestly it is a hot contender for anime of the season if it hits the right notes.

One thing I can talk about that hasn’t been mentioned before is yet another intriguing character. With our Military Uniform Princess taking the role of main villain it was hard to think that the show would introduce an even greater threat, but it did. Magane Chikujoin is a villain character from a series in Re:Creators world called Yoru Mado Kiroku. Judging by how she acts and behaves as well as her abilities I pegged her as coming from a straight up horror series or maybe even a battle seinen with darker and more mature themes than your typical shonen series. She has a very clever ability that protects her almost indefinitely and she is a complete liar, so much so that she get’s a kick out of it. Lying is her weapon and she uses it to devastating effect. Magane is honestly a terrifying character due to her incredible ability as well as her contrasting schoool girl attitude. She is definitely much more of a villain than the Military Uniform Princess and there some big reasons why. Her knack for telling lies has gotten her involved with every major character in the series. She has a variety of strings she can pull, and while we saw her latest machination get foiled by the heroes’ raw determination and will, it is clear that Magane is willing to say ANYTHING to get what she wants. Compared to Mamika who has undergone a dramatic shift in her archetype, Magane’s archetype has only grown more rotten. She now finds herself in a world where she can do anything she wants without having her fellow characters get in the way. Bringing her to the real world was essentially the equivalent of unchaining a feral beast. Magane is shaping up to be the series’ true villain and it shows. The events of the latest episode proved her to be much more powerful than we anticipated, and with her acknowledgement of zero restraints she becomes that much more dangerous. Magane isn’t just a simple sadistic villain, she is a self-aware villain. She is aware of the existence of her world and ours. Not only that, but the way she behaves makes the viewer think that she might be aware of the world outside the screen, because Re: Creators is still an anime. It doesn’t exist in our world outside of that medium, yet there are several moments where Magane is talking directly to the camera and it seems more like she is talking to us, the viewer. There is one scene in Episode 9 that really hammers this home where she begins talking to herself, yet she is staring straight at us. Not only that, but the things she says are inquisitive and it’s almost like she is trying to convince us, the viewers, that she told the truth, when in reality she bent it. It is that one thing that adds so much more gravity to a character like this and it is incredibly intense.

I could probably talk about this show forever, but I want to leave some of these characters as a surprise for those of you who intend to give the series a shot. This is an anime that is clearly aimed at artists. Whether you draw, animate, or just write, this series was made to be watched by you. The questions and conversations posed by Re:Creators can easily be applied to your own work, and through that it provides perspective. It makes us question the content we create. It makes us wonder just exactly how our characters would truly feel in the situations we put them in. It also makes us question the level of detail we give our worlds. There are so many minor and major details across this series that resonate with me immensely. Because of that, it has become one of favorites of this season, if not this entire year. If you are an artist, I urge you to watch this show. You will not be disappointed, and I’m sure you’ll come away from it with a renewed view on your work. Hope you enjoyed the article.

#Anime #Re:Creators #Selesia Yupitiria #Magical Slayer Mamika #Magane Chikujoin #Shota Mizushino #Altair

6 notes · View notes

wu-sisyphus-gang · 4 years ago

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 13 snippet

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

Nora was all over me in a pinwheel of hammer and raw force. I blocked and redirected her massive attacks, giving ground all the while and stepping back to get brief charges of my semblance in. I wasn’t sure how effective this hit and run strategy I was working on really was but there was no way to know until I activated my semblance.

It arrived with the usual whoosh and I bashed Nora across the face with the shield and she whipped back at me with a large grin. “Ruby’s right. It does make you stronger, but does it make you strong enough for this?”

She rotated the hammer over her head and I stepped back and to the side, giving her space before the hammer clipped me on the shoulder. I winced, in more pain than the blow would have indicated normally; irritating my wounds was a must, however.

I shut down Nora’s worried look by spending the charge right in her face. The five hit combo I had used against the Scorpion which carved a massive Kanji in the air. Misfortune. Ren had informed me when he saw it. I unleashed the bad luck cutter right into her gut and knocked her back, bouncing her across the bricks. She was the only one in the group I felt comfortable using that kind of attack against in sparring. Ruby was made of paper-mache and Ren was a lightweight, too.

Nora on the other hand could really take the hit.

I checked her aura gauge. Maybe Ruby was right, maybe my own strength was a mystery to me. Nora was yellow.

She flipped back to her feet rushing me with the hammer but suddenly, without limit, I swayed on my feet, clutching my side. I held up a single hand and her steps stuttered to a stop.

“You’re not just charging your semblance, are you?” She asked. I glared at her. “Good because that’s funny nonce.”

I panted hard and glared some more.

Ruby had been watching the fight unfold and walked up to me. She handed me a bottle of water and as she swung past me she kissed my cheek in a crimson flash. Her eyes glowed and a small blush marked her cheeks before she vanished in a small blur.

“So you and Ruby, huh?” Nora leered with a grin. As though she didn’t know. The two of them had shared a room last night. What secrets had they shared? A total question mark.

“Yeah, me and Ruby.” My voice had more confidence than I felt.

“How’d that happen?”

“She got tired of waiting for me and made a move.”

Nora looked down and rubbed her right arm with her left arm sheepishly. “It’s not that easy,” she murmured.

“It actually might be.”

“What if he’s not into me.”

“Nora, you’re his whole world.”

“He needs to say it.” She said sticking one hand on her hip. “Not you.”

“So you two haven’t done anything?”

“No we totally have, it's just not like that, or like what you have.”

“That’s not what I meant. Just… don’t wait too long.” I let a little agony creep into my voice. “You really really don’t want to wait too long.” It wasn’t pain I felt wasn’t from my abdomen.

She opened her mouth but I found a place to sit and plopped down, clutching my sides with a hiss.

“Was it a good idea for us to fight?” She asked.

“I need to stay fit and get used to the semblance and sword. You took it easy enough on me.”

“You’re hurting though. Also you didn’t take it easy on me. What was that?”

“I was hurting before we started, though.”

“Oh that makes it okay then.” Sarcasm leaked through. She aggressively ruffled my hair. “You need to look after yourself.”

“I’ve got you guys to help with that.”

“What are you going to do when we’re not around?”

“I’ll muddle through.”

Ren approached us, looking us both up and down thoroughly and distantly. His eyes lingered on me and for a moment I thought he saw right through me. His eyes nearly narrowed and with his semblance I couldn’t really put how much he saw past him. He was the strongest empath on our team for a reason.

“So that’s your semblance, it’s very you.” Ren murmured. “I had wondered when it would manifest.”

“Do you have a name for it?” Nora wondered.

“Do you really need to have a name for it?” I wondered. “It’s just a semblance.”

“Just a semblance!” Nora exclaimed. “Of course it needs a name! Do you have a name?” She wondered rhetorically.

“Nora calls her’s High Voltage. Mine, of course, is called Tranquility. Ruby’s probably has a name like Scatter or something. Fallen Petals or some such.”

“How about Summit Supremium Smash?” Nora went with.

“A bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?” I tried.

“Boundless Bash,” she whispered.

“Something shorter, then, like Limit Breaker.” Ren continued.

“Limit Break sounds fine.” I settled before some worse option could present itself. “Let’s call it Limit Break.”

“How are you feeling Jaune?” Ren wondered.

“I’m hurt but I’m getting through it.” I needed a distraction. “How’s enlightening Beifhing’s men going?”

“All done!” Nora spouted flexing one bicep. “All of the king's men are ready for battle.”

I sighed. I felt better leaving the village again if the guards had aura and the power to defend themselves against the Grimm. Of course enlightening so many people posed its own dangers but the Knuckleavee and the danger presented by Vernal was just too much. We couldn’t be everywhere. We couldn’t stay forever. There was a certain compromise there.

The fact was when you handed out tickets to the superpower lottery, someone might win. Example: Raven fucking Branwen who united half a continent worth of bandits in terror.

It was also much faster and safer for us as a group rather than Ruby doing it by herself in Higanbana.

I twisted and turned my torso, stretching my stitches to aggravate the wounds. Ren winced next to me and looked me over again. He said nothing though but he met my eyes in certain suspicious silence.

“You feel up for sparring with me?” Ren quirked an eyebrow. I panted a moment longer before I nodded. We were gathering a bit of an audience in the small courtyard. A few young children and some older kids came out to watch the hunters practice.

“Don’t hit him with that move!” Nora called. “The one you hit me with. Does it have a name?”

“Why would my moves have names if my semblance didn’t?”

“Everyone has signature moves.” Ruby explained. She was back in a blur and plopped down beside Nora with a drink. “Yang likes jab, left body shot, left head hook, right cross. She favors ending everything with a cross, regardless of her stance.”

“So my moves need names?”

“Well sure!” Nora continued. “Whatever you just hit me with for sure.”

“He used that against the scorpion, too.” Ruby gossipped back. “It was devastating.”

“That’s the one he used to break his aura?” Nora wondered. “No wonder.”

“Yeah. You should see the other ones he has too. He has one where he moves with it. It’s hard to explain.”

“It’s pretty, though.”

“I know right.”

“Are we going to fight?” Ren wondered. “Or are you just listening to the girls?”

“Yeah.” I answered cutely, drawing my sword into a ready position. “You ready?”

“Speaking of…” Nora continued. “What was the name of your semblance Ruby?”

“Petal Burst.” Ruby took a sip of her drink, kicking her legs on the bench she sat on. God she was cute. She brushed her hair back out of her face by pouting her lips and blowing upwards.

“Boo.” Nora ixnayed the creativity.

“Yang named it.” Ruby defended easily. “It started when I was super young.”

“How young are we talking about?”

“Young enough to not be able to control it. And to cause a few accidents.”

“So what are we going to call that move?”

“Kanji Smash,” Rens suggested.

“Slayer,” Nora tried. “Penta Slash. What does the Kanji mean?”

“Misfortune,” Ren answered.

“Unlucky Cutter,” Nora continued.

I grunted.

“‘X’ slash. Cross Slash,” Ruby listed. I liked the last one.

“Hold up, Ren! Don't just sit there and let him charge it!” Nora called out.

Too late. My skull roared and I rushed him. I swept my sword down at him with a blue blur. I made sure not to crack the pavement beneath Ren’s feet. It turns out I didn’t need to because Ren swept backwards. It looked like it was in slow motion compared to his usual speed.

I gave him no quarter. Limit Break only lasted so long. Fifteen seconds, maybe. Could be less. A long time in a fight but then not that long. I swept the distance between us, in a violent violet haze. I thrusted Crocea Mors in all six foot glory forward as I rushed him with an impaling flick. I caught him in the chest and lifted him up into the air. I followed it up with that baseball style swing where I pivoted my hips into a diagonal slash. I caught Ren flat footed. I was starting to think that that was one of those moves that Ruby had a read on me for.

It was comfortable though, it felt right.

He kicked at me, at normal speed now, but compared to the Scorpion he was moving through jello. I blocked it by raising Crocea Mors vertically but it seemed to be a trap.

Ren caught my weapon and swung around me kicking me in the back and I went down rolling. He pursued me with his weapons ready to grapple and whipped my leg out from underneath me with a hook of Stormflower. He ripped out a chunk of my aura with it and the other one at the same time.

I sighed even before I hit the ground. Semblance or not, some things remained the same.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster #ruby rose x jaune arc #renora #nora valkyrie x lie ren #lie ren #nora valkyrie #motion sickness

2 notes · View notes