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random-imagines-blog · 4 years

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Post Red {Viktor Krum x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3072 Summary: At a time when he should be focused on the game, Viktor Krum is distracted by you, his childhood best friend, and a blonde-haired boy who won’t stop flirting.

The Quidditch World Cup. You came just about every year, getting pretty okay seats with your best friend Viktor and his family. His parents and yours were good friends, which instantly meant that you were best friends. And with his father holding season passes to every Quidditch world cup, no matter where it was, this had become a yearly tradition. “I’m going to be on the Bulgarian team one day,” Viktor would always state as you watched the players fly. Bulgaria was always his favorite. Home country pride. It was yours too, but sometimes you liked to cheer for other times to mix things up. You would always grin and nudge him to point out something a player was doing, but not this year. This year, you were at the top of the stadium, standing next to the Minister of Magic in a special area, watching Viktor Krum play in Bulgaria versus Ireland. He was achieving his dream.

Every time that he flew past you, you jumped up and down, waving the flag of his team. He had become the star seeker of the team so quickly, it made your head spin. But you were nothing if not supportive. You used up your allowance to buy his merchandise, even though he could get it to you for free. It almost became a joke between the two of you, how you would always show up to his house wearing a sweater with his face on it, bright and smiling. You always made the joke that he was smiling on the sweater because it was the closest that he would ever get to your chest. He would make the joke in return that he was just smiling because he finally was looking at someone good looking - himself. He was actually very funny for a serious looking man.

You weren’t the only one high up in the stadium. Sharing a box with you was the Minister of Magic himself, and a man with his son. The boy was two or three years younger than you, you would assume by his size, and his hair was as silver as snow, just like his fathers. You had no interest in them. You weren’t here to make friends. You were here to support the best one that you had. But you did give a friendly hello and smile to the Minister, as it was better to have a friend in him than an enemy.

The other boy though, he wanted to have more than a friendly hello with you. He kept moving closer to the part of the box that you were occupying. He spoke to you with a very snobby voice, and though it would be considered rude and your parents would be disappointed in you, your direct reaction was to pretend that you didn’t know English.

“I’m Draco Malfoy,” He said, sticking his hand out to shake yours. “We’re here with the Minister of Magic. Are you here by yourself?”

Rather than shake his hand, because you honestly didn’t want to touch him for too long, you tapped yours against his in a high-five. “Ja, go fast!” You said, pointing at one of the Bulgarian Chasers who just flew past you.

The look on Draco’s face was worth it. But there was still a long game ahead of you. It could go on for hours. For days. Hopefully for the former though, because Viktor was a really good seeker. You had full confidence that he would get the snitch before it turned midnight.

Draco went and stood by his father for a little bit, and the two had quiet conversations. You didn’t pay him much attention. You were too busy watching the game. Even during lulls when it was just Chasers fighting over the ball in the middle of the pitch, you were intrigued. You didn’t pay attention to anything else - except for maybe making faces at Viktor when he passed by you on his way to catch what he thought was the snitch. He was darting back and forth so quickly though, it was hard to tell if he had seen you.

Since the World Cup was officially sponsored by Butterbeer, it kept being brought up to your box by people who worked for the Quidditch federation. It was enough to keep you warm as the game went into the nighttime. The skies seemed to threaten rain, but you didn’t care whether it fell or not. You were having fun, regardless of the weather.

The Irish scored the first goal. You booed, even though the others in your box seemed to be very supportive of the green team. You smiled apologetically at Fudge as he gave you an odd look, but didn’t pass a glance at the other two. However, the young boy came and stood beside you again, leaning over the box to look down at the people below in the lesser seats. He was sneering at them, like they had done something wrong by just existing there. That was worth a look to you at least. He caught your eye, and that sneer turned into a smile.

“Is this your first time at the Quidditch World Cup?” He asked. You shook your head, still feigning not knowing any English. “We come every year. But this is the first time that we’re in the Minister’s Box. So how did you get up here anyway? Who are you?”

He wasn’t letting up. You tried to look up at the players again, but the war for the Quaffle was going on in the middle of the pitch which meant there wasn’t much to look at right now. He nudged your side, so you finally answered, giving him your first and last name.

“Sounds exotic,” He said, which made you have to turn away and roll your eyes. Leave it to someone from England to think that your name was exotic, when it was commonplace where you were from. And not like he had the right to judge - what sort of name was Draco?

There was finally some action on the pitch, which took his attention from you for a little while. Unfortunately it was Ireland again, scoring the second goal of the game. Your eyes scanned the pitch to look for the familiar frame of your best friend and you saw him across the stadium. He was balanced on his broom, sitting on it in a way that made it look easy. Comfortable. You always admired how effortless he made it look to fly, while you were always hunched down, holding on with both hands until your knuckles had started to hurt. You waved at him when you thought you caught his eye and he smiled back at you. You chuckled as you heard a few girls in rows below you start to squeal because they thought that it had been at him.

“He’s overrated,” Draco muttered beside you.

“Krum?” You asked - before realizing this was very close to exposing yourself as a fraud.

“Yeah. He’s not even that good. In fact, I’m better than him. I’m the Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team. I got in second year, which is really rare, actually.”

You let his voice go in one ear and then out the other. This boy seemed to like to talk about himself an awful lot.

Ireland scored a third goal, and you groaned loudly, cutting off Draco in the middle of a sentence. “Oh, are you cold?” He asked.

Either he didn’t notice that you were shaking your head, or he didn’t care. He moved in closer to you and tried to put his arm around your shoulders. In your discomfort, you took a few hasty steps away, and ended up bumping into the Minister himself, stepping on his robes which almost pulled him down.

“I’m so sorry,” You said in horror as you realized what you had just done. You helped him to upright himself, and he gave you a wary look, like he should have expected this.

“It’s quite alright,” He said, but he did wander to the other side of the box, far away from you. You watched, feeling a bit bashful about what just had happened. At least, until there was a cheer from the fans. Ireland scored yet another goal. You sighed, and put your gaze back on the game. Viktor had moved since you had last seen him, and you began to scan for him once more, only for him to pop up not too far from you.

“I knew you spoke English,” Draco said from next to you. You almost forgot about the little twerp, but here he was, making himself known again. You never met anyone so infuriating before. He just couldn’t pick up a hint. “Come on, talk to me. Do you go to Hogwarts? I felt like I would have seen you there.”

“I don’t go to Hogwarts,” You stated. “You have not seen me before. And after this, we shall not meet again. Please, leave me alone.”

“I’ll be telling my father about your rudeness,” He said, finally turning away from you. You let out a sigh of relief. Maybe you could finally get into the game.

There had been a few close calls of Ireland getting the snitch. They were winning by quite a lot, and you could feel Viktor’s frustration from where you were standing. He kept looking at you, and you didn’t have much to offer him except for crossing your fingers.

“I think you should come to have dinner with us after the game,” Draco said, strolling back over to you after a while.

“The game could go on for hours, or even days,” You said, clenching the fence in front of you. You had never felt the urge to punch someone before but it was growing slowly and steadily. Something about his ferret like face.

“Well, we’re taking a break soon. We brought our new house elf. It’s an alright cook, it’ll do for the occasion. And you’re going to join us, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine here, thank you,” You said, scoffing at the idea of a break. You had no intention of leaving the game until it was over, even if that meant starving or peeing yourself. You were dedicated to stick it out for Viktor, at the very least.

He was flying not too far, eyes peeled for the stitch. But he looked at you. He was able to smile once more, but a hand grabbed yours and pulled you away from the fence. In your astonishment, you had let go. “Come on, we’re going to have something to eat.”

There was a sound of awe from the crowd at the exact same time that something went soaring by your head. You just barely managed to duck before it turned around and came back. A bludger. But how in the hell did it-

It went returning the way that it had come from, flying across the pitch. That was when you saw Viktor again, a little closer to you this time, holding a beater’s bat. He tossed it back to the beater, who went soaring after the bludger, while Viktor looked over at you. You put your hands over your heart as a thank you. He had always been a little overprotective of you, but right now, you were grateful for it. You were able to snap your hand away from Draco’s grasp, who was still ducking from the bludger attack. “I said I’m fine here. And if you, or your father, have a problem with that, you can shove it up your rear!” You shouted. The Minister overheard this part of the conversation and let out a little ‘oh my’ in surprise.

You didn’t even care. Enough was enough. If he grabbed you again, you would be telling everyone that you were being assaulted, and put him on full blast. Though he looked rather shaky after the encounter with the bludger, so you had the feeling he wouldn’t actually be bothering you again. You returned back to the fence so you could overlook the pitch again, and wrapped your hands around it so no one would be able to drag you back again.

The game finished with Bulgaria’s loss. You were disappointed, but it wasn’t Viktor’s fault. He still managed to catch the snitch, so he had done his job. It was the Keeper that you were disappointed with, and you would be bringing that up to him later.

You descended the endless flights of stairs, blending in with the crowd after the game - many were celebrating but there were quite a few who looked the same as you felt. Damn Ireland, you were thinking to yourself. And damn the Bulgarian Keeper! He hadn’t been able to do his job properly. Even Viktor would have done a better job, and it was his least favorite position!

You managed to veer away from the crowd to go to your own little campsite. Much like the others around yours, the tent was much bigger and roomier on the inside than it appeared on the outside, thanks to a little magic. You marched on through the flaps to go inside, and change out of your clothes. It had been a long game, and you had definitely sweated at least a little bit. You wanted to be much more presentable when Viktor would come along and join you.

The flap came open once more, and Viktor strolled in, just as you were fastening the button on your bottoms. He had perfect timing - now at least, maybe not so during the game. His jaw was clenched, you noticed, and he looked very angry. He’d lost games before, but still reveled in the fact that he had been playing. This was not a mood that just came from the game.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, watching as he walked past you to the armchair that was in front of the budding fire. Thank heavens for magic - a fire and a tent would never have worked otherwise.

“That boy who was touching you-” He said, sinking into the chair, and spit directly into the fire with disgust. “What’s his name?”

“Oh, we don’t need to worry about him, Vik. I think you scared him enough with the bludger. He wouldn’t even come close to me after that. Turned white as a sheet,” You chuckled at the memory, but his anger seemed to rage on.

“No, tell me his name.” Viktor demanded. You sighed, and walked to where he was sitting. The chair wasn’t big enough for the both of you, but it had rather wide arms and you planted yourself right there. You leaned your head against the top of his, the bristly growth of his hair tickling your forehead. “Y/N...”

“He was a stupid, petulant child who I am never going to lay eyes on again, Viktor Krum. Why did it make you so mad?”

“No one should be touching you. No one should be dragging you...” He said, moodily. He was staring into the fire, not at you at all.

“Tell you what. I’ll let you know his name after you calm down, how about that?” You suggested. It would take some time - he had a temper like a bonfire that would just keep on burning until the morning.

“Fine,” He grumbled. He said nothing more, and the two of you sat in silence, staring at the fire as it crackled, and listening to some of the cheers from outside. People were still celebrating the Irish win out there, and it gave everything a joyous atmosphere. “I’m not angry anymore.” He said after a few more minutes.

You pulled away from him, and took a look at his eyes to see if he really was in a post-red mood. He still looked grumpy but the worst of it seemed to be over. “His name was Draco Malfoy. His father is friends with the Minister, which is why I didn’t do much about it myself. You took good care of me, Vik. Just be happy that it ended the way that it did and we could move on with our lives.”

“If I see him again, I’m punching him,” Viktor grumbled. You shrugged, alright with that since the likelihood of it seemed so low.

“That is a price that he will have to pay then,” You smiled, moving back towards him and fell into his lap. Before you could try to get up, his arms went around your waist and started to tickle you in the way that he knew you hated. Fingers digging into your skin, it was a horrible feeling but the closeness that it brought wasn’t entirely terrible. “Vik - come on, stop...”

“I like it when you call me that,” He said, finally letting a smile come across his usual gruff features. You smiled in return, and lightly ran your fingers across his sculpted jawline, feeling the bone beneath his skin. His breathing hitched, and he held you closer, tighter.

You grew closer, until you could feel the heat of his breath on your lips. Viktor was so close - and you hadn’t realized until this moment that this was something that you wanted. You had always been friends, and your parents had teased since the beginning that they were planning your wedding to each other. But this was the first time that you had seen what they had been seeing.

Screams came from outside, and they were far from being the joyous kind. There was serious fear in the female voice that you had heard. And then came others. More and more screaming. The tent seemed to move as people were rushing past it. You could just see it through the crack between the flaps which acted as doors.

“Stay with me,” Viktor said, getting up immediately. You agreed to this without question, and when he offered you his hand, you took it. Whatever danger was out there, you were certain that you could face it together.

#Viktor Krum #Viktor Krum x reader #Viktor Krum oneshot #Harry Potter #Harry Potter oneshot #request #oneshot #viktork #x reader

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d-pennants · 4 years

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Everything we know about Aaravos

This includes stuff from the books, interviews and ComicCon, so spoilers. Updated with a few things from the artbook. I’ll try to keep updating when I come across new info.

Timeline

From Book 1: Moon

Callum’s Spellbook

Historical texts

The Art of the Dragon Prince

And a third page written in Italian was added to the historical texts.

“Last of the Great Ones” is interesting, because Zaird says to Sol Regem his staff was a gift from one of the Great Ones. Sol Regem is alarmed but doesn’t immediately know who Zaird is talking about. So apparently between that conversation and when this text was written all Great Ones except for Aaravos died, and even he ‘fell’.

Also this note about Aaravos not being at full power.

As a ‘fallen’ Startouch elf Aaravos can only access a fraction of his former power.

The spell Zaird used to absorb the sunbirds to create the fireball he used against Sol Regem and the spell that Aaravos casts for Viren to absorb Zym’s power are meant to resemble each other in their swirling vortex. The symbol for Dark Magic also has a swirl in it around a diamond shaped like the one on Aaravos’ chest. This absorption vortex seems to be pretty central to Dark Magic, and it only seems it can be done with the staff Aaravos most likely crafted.

The Show

Zaird staff is the same staff Viren uses. Aaravos recognized it. Given the historical text Aaravos is the “Great One” who gifted Zaird that staff.

Transcripts of all his lines in this post.

Aaravos is the narrator in the opening.

First appearance in S1 from the first war between humans and elves & dragons 1000 years ago.

Elves don’t seem to ride horses, but big cats, dogs, lizards, etc instead. Yet Aaravos choose to depict himself riding a star primal horse (He could make Viren see any creature he wanted). Considering it turns out that unicorns and Startouch elves are the only two star primal creatures humans know about, is he just being dramatic or does this have a deeper meaning?

Mirror in the Dragon King’s lair.

Cocoon

Dragon Prince Website

Bio;

Mysterious and charismatic, Aaravos is a rare kind of elf few have ever seen. He is secretive yet charming, and even Viren finds himself compelled by Aaravos’ cryptic words and gifts.

Height: 6’6 (6’9 with horns) Birthday: November 14th Age: ???

Birthday Vignette;

Aaravos does not count the passage of time in minutes, nor hours, not even days — he counts candles, one after the other, burning themselves down to the wick and a puddle of hot wax. He would run out of candles if it weren’t so easy to reform them with a wave of his hand, as though the burn had never happened.

He thinks sometimes about the way humans count their years: one day every year marks a precious point in their short life spans. They celebrate. They feast. He thinks that if he cared for the idea, he’d like to remember the taste of a smooth red fruit a human had plucked from a tree for him, once.

It had been so crisp, and so sweet.

AMA, Tumblr, Instagram Live

Who are the First Elves?

AE: First Elves are startouch elves, or possibly a subset of startouch elves...

When did the idea of Aaravos come up? How early in the planning of the saga did you guys come up with him?

AE: Justin and I came up with Aaravos very very early. In the early stages we referred to him as "Mirror Mage." We always knew he would be the secret long-game mystery villain... Aaron

Is the Key of Aaravos actually the key of where he was imprisoned?

AE & JR: We can’t tell you.

JR: We don’t even know. We haven’t even discovered the answer yet.

AE: We know! Actually, that was one of the first things we knew at the very beginning. We’ll get to it.

Did Aaravos create dark magic?

AE: No, it was discovered not created. Did Aaravos turn them onto it or help them discover it? That’s very possible. Whether Aaravos played a role in developing their ability to do dark magic. Exploring the possibilities of dark magic.

How could Avizandum (Thunder) imprison such a powerful creature as Aaravos? Can archdragons do such magic or who helped him? This required some collaboration between archdragons and elves

Were you surprised by all the thirsty reactions to Aaravos? Judging from everyone who worked on the show and their reactions, no we weren't surprised :)

Where is Aaravos walking in epsiode 6? And how and where did he a get a horse?

Aaravos can basically make Viren “see” him however he wants, so he chose to appear on the back of a purple horse. There was actually a line in there at one point that we had to cut for time that clarified a bit more heavily -- Viren grumbles at him, “Must you appear... that way?” as Aaravos is floating in the air, and Aaravos replies, “Ah, I can appear more naturally if you’d like,” and then he flips backwards onto the horse as you see in scene in episode 6. :P

which FFXIV classes would the rest of the cast be?

Aaravos - mysterious benevolent ascian

Interviews

There is no Startouch elf society as they’re not numerous enough.

Hot Brown Morning Potion Ep 5

Hypothetically, if Aaravos knew about his own fandom, how would he feel about them?

AE: He takes a special interest in humans, so he would be very pleased that humans appreciate him.

Wondercon 2019 panel Q&A

“The goal of healing and rebuilding the world is going to be a hard one, and especially a hard one when Aaravos, who may have been one of the mysterious forces who pushed the world into this situation, now seems to be on the cusp of returning or trying to return to the world.”

Inverse Season 4 interview

“Practical usable powerful magic, is drawn from the six Primal Sources, but there’s this idea that there’s this kind of earlier, less differentiated power. A kind of magic that’s deeper and more, (I don’t want to kind of say what all of them are). It’s not that important now. It has more to do with the history of beings and interactions and now I feel like I’m talking crazy, but Aaravos cares about some of this stuff and it’s funny, people have worked on a speech in season 5 where he kind of goes into some of this.”

...

“I think he’s complicated. I mean it’s, I think there’s a part of him that is kind, that is generous, that is giving and I think there’s a part of him that is arrogant and desiring to be, you know, worshipped and revered...

He never lies, I don’t know if he’s never lied about anything, if you understand where he’s coming from, he’s not lying about anything. But you don’t necessarily know where he’s coming from. He never lies, he always tells the truth. You’ve heard us talk about Aaravos before, is it Lucifer or Prometheus, who has a relationship with humanity and the gifts and sharing that he has historically have been, you know, you can interpret it differently.”

...

Q: We know he’s mastered all the primal sources, it that like could all of us do that or just him?

A: He’s very special.

Cartoon Universe Season 3 interview

kn: What’s your favorite Greek myth? AE: There are so many intriguing myths to choose from – I think if I have to choose I would say the Prometheus myth. The titan stole fire and gave it to humans, elevating them – and was punished by the gods for this. I feel like there are parallels to the biblical story of the serpent tempting Eve to eat the apple, and its effect on humanity… and the comparisons are sort of fascinating. I am interested in both the mythic/divine messenger who stole/shared these gifts with humanity, and the story of what humans chose to do once they had these gifts.

Korranews interview

Can I just jump back for a minute to the Star elves, can you talk a little bit about them?

Richmond: We can tell you their name, so they’re Startouch elves, is the type of elf they are and kind of no. [Laughs] They’re super, duper rare, they’re very mystical and we have a lot of plans for them, but that’s kind of all I want to give you. Ehasz: They’re mystical, mysterious - the mystical, mysterious Mr. Aaravos. [Laughs] Richmond: That’s the spinoff. [Laughs] Ehasz: Yeah, they are more - I mean, they’re Star Elves and they’re more associated with the heavens and they’re not immortal, but they have more of a time scale that is more like the stars than other elves, so they’re a little bit removed and big picture, but Star Elves have a, I mean, they’re part of mystery and myth and we’re going to meet one this season. I love the actor who plays him is Erik Todd Dellums, who I worked with on Avatar [the Last Airbender] who has an amazing voice and he’s perfect to embody a character like this and we’re excited about this character. We hope the audience is intrigued and ready for more.

Screenrant Season 2 interview

Going back to Aaravos for one second. We’re assuming there’s a reason why he seems to be telling this story — we see his hands at the beginning of each episode in the opening sequence. AE: Yeah, so he’s a Startouch Elf, and they are closest to the heavens of the elves. They’re kind of the most god-like, in the sense of they span much more time than more Earth-bound or Xadia-bound elves. So yeah, he has this thousand year perspective. This kind of mythic role. So he’s like this mythic character who now, suddenly, is kind of popping up in this contemporary story. JR: And obviously, he’s bad enough that they tried to literally erase him from the books. AE: He’s complicated. JR: He’s interesting enough that they tried to erase him from the books. AE: He’s disliked. That’s not the same as bad.

Hyperable season 2 interview

“The name of a very important person to Aaravos will be in the map of a novel, but it will be a long time before you know what that means,” Ehasz said. “A lot of his motivation comes from that relationship.”

Hyperable Season 3 interview (Possible names on the map are Skall’s Hook, the Ruins of Elarion, and Mount Kalik).

The team also teased The Orphan Queen, a new story they hope to tell in the series, books or even in a feature film, which follows a young human girl who starts from nothing and grows up without parents. She takes a dangerous journey to Xadia and ends up saving the world. She’s also Ezran’s first royal ancestor. Ehasz and Richmond said the idea was born when they were imagining where the Key of Aaravos comes from.

Ehasz and Richmond also dug into the timeline of Xadia, and how certain eras will impact both the books and the series. Five thousand years ago, Xadia was in its “mythical, Biblical first days,” a time long before elves and dragons were allied in which humans suffered and struggled. The “rise of Elarion” came around 2,000 years before the events of the series, and saw humans find their way to magic. Around 1200 years ago finds the arch dragon of sun, Sol Regem, as king of the dragons during this era, when dark magic became problematic and humans poached magical creatures for their parts. Shortly after came the division of Xadia. The next big turning point for the world was 300 years before the series, a time Ehasz and Richmond dub “the era of Avizandum.” Two stories they want to tell take place during this era: The Fallen Star and The Orphan Queen. We don’t know anything about The Fallen Star yet ... but we will. The team noted that history will one day know the modern era as “The Return of Aaravos.”

Polygon season 3 interview

Concept Art

Dorothy Yang’s design 'Fallen Star.’ Check out more of her work on ArtStation.

When they were first brainstorming ideas for the show Aaravos had a blindfold, but that was scrapped for being “too on the nose.” This is Giancarlos Volpe’s early sketches that he posted on Twitter.

#aaravos #my notes #tdp analysis #tdp spoilers #spoilers

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seiin-translations · 4 years

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2.43 S1 Chapter 3.3 - The Dog’s View and the Giraffe’s View

3. OLD BUDDY

Aoki’s 1000 IQ mind is hinted at here

Also what are the main tags for this fandom???

Translation Notes

1. Pun on Oda’s name. Here the “Shin” is 神 (god) instead of “伸” which is the first kanji in Oda’s first name

2. Okuma’s name 大隈 shares the same pronunciation as 大熊 which means “big bear”

3. The 伸 in Oda’s first name means “lengthen” or “extend”

Previous || Index || Next

“Odaaaa! I’m beggin’ you, play futsal. You can definitely be in the amateur bracket on a pro level.”

“Odacchi! Why aren’t you doing softball? You’re even more reliable than our regular shortstop. Oh, don’t be so modest. I’m not kissing your ass. What’s the point of that?”

“Oda, why volleyball of all things?”

“You don’t have to play volleyball.”

“Oda! No, Oda-Shin!” (1)

The seasons changed, and it was now midway through June. In this rainy season, Oda shook off the group of male scouts who were wearing mud-stained uniforms and jerseys and hot on his heels, and took refuge in the student council room. It sounded good for those who called it a June tradition, but for those who were targeted, it was just a dirty thing.

“I’m comin’ in. Let me hide out a little here.”

Aoki, who seemed too tall for his own good as he tucked himself on a folding chair and stared at documents, looked up. The sign reading “Vice President” stood on one corner of the desks arranged in a square.

“Oh. I can hear it from all the way in here. You’re a popular guy.”

“The member list has already been turned in. I don’t know if they’ve been told by now. Even if they didn’t, I don’t feel like doing anything other than volleyball.”

“Well, no need to be so hard on them. You should be happy that they value you so much.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it…I only dabbled with soccer and baseball in gym. I seriously don’t know why people are giving me so much credit.”

“Is that different from not being aware of your own ability?”

“If it’s volleyball ability, I’m more than aware of it.”

Hearing such a servile and submissive line from himself, he immediately regretted it right after he said it. Aoki was silent for only a moment while looking down at the papers.

“…Did you see who will be participating in volleyball? A whole bunch of stuff came out just now.”

He changed the topic, acting as though he hadn’t heard anything. I’m never a match for how he reads too much into things.

He pulled up the chair that was diagonally across from Aoki, the corner of the desk between them. In addition to him, there were only a pair of underclassmen officers sitting in the corner working on something.

The main event organized by the student council in the first semester, the Seiin Ballgame Festival, was coming in two weeks. The boys’ volleyball team were futilely eliminated from prefecturals at the beginning of the month, and the road to Inter-High and Nationals had just closed. Another one of the three major national championships was the “Spring Inter-High Volleyball” in January. The ballgame tournament during this period was by all rights nothing but a nuisance to their club activities, because they had to restart immediately to prepare for the prefectural qualifiers in September, right after summer vacation.

But for this year, he felt that this cushion was appreciated. He was practicing as usual, but he couldn’t quite switch gears. The handout distributed in class right after the prefecturals was undoubtedly one of the reasons. He had stuffed that handout with the title “Second Future Course Survey” into his locker without filling it in.

“It’s gonna be interesting this year.”

Aoki was handed a clipboard that holding several sheets of paper. It was the list of names for each event in the ballgame tournament.

“The ones with the double circles are pros.”

“Pro” of course didn’t mean pro athletes. It was the internal term for this ballgame tournament that referred to those who belonged to the corresponding sports club for each event. The maximum number of pros was set at three people for each team. The antonym of pro was “amateur”, and those who had experience in middle school or dropped out of their clubs were sometimes called “semi-pro.”

Classes A to F were divided vertically through the grades for a total of six teams. A supreme general would be nominated from the third-years of each team, and they would compete for overall victory with the total points from all the events. Since the captains of the main sports clubs were luckily scattered across the different classes, it was an event that got somewhat heated with the power struggles between the sports clubs.

He viewed the boys’ volleyball participant roster in order, starting from Team A. Team A didn’t have the double circle—for softball and futsal, where there were many qualifying members, there was competition among the members for the pro slots, but sadly for their division, they actually fell short of the number of slots.

“Oh, B’s got a killing.”

Team B also didn’t have any double circles, but when he looked at the remarks column, he saw that there was an awful lot of rugby team members. “So, are these remarks self-reported?” “No, the executive committee collected it, but the tally was a bit late.” “You’re spending a lot of energy on unnecessary things.” “You think so? Information gathering is fun, though.” In the remarks column, in addition to the current club the student belonged to, information such as their club activities in middle school and outstanding results in the school physical fitness test were added. If one were to see this list without knowing Aoki’s character, one might be a bit horrified.

The rugby player called Okuma of Class 2-B had a face and name that matched (he thought it was “大熊” (2), but he guessed those were the actual characters). At the level of a ballgame tournament, just having a big guy in front of the net was effective to some extent. Three rugby players over 180 centimeters in the front row might be a rather formidable opponent.

Next, Team C had three double circles in a row—3-C’s Aoki Misao ◎, 2-C’s Kanno Akito ◎, and 1-C’s Kuroba Yuni ◎.

“…What’s with this bias? Isn’t this all-star team against the rules?”

“It’s no more than three. That’s not against the rules.” Aoki said carefreely. “It’s just a coincidence that there are three people in C class this year. I didn’t manipulate that, so I don’t need you complaining about it.” Isn’t that an implicit admission that he manipulated in the other cases?

“Well, worst case scenario, I might drop out. I also got work on the management side. I’ll leave it to Kanno to cover for Kuroba.”

“Don’t drop out. It’ll be boring without you.”

When Oda said that without missing a beat, Aoki looked at him with slightly widened eyes. That unconcerned attitude of Aoki’s always irritated him for an instant.

“It’ll be interesting…We’ll definitely beat you.”

He declared provocatively. Aoki smirked from the corner of his mouth.

“We’re not going to go easy on you, you know?”

“Of course. If you hold back even just a little bit, then I’m never going to talk to you again.”

“Aw, come on, give me a break.”

Aoki was 193 centimeters, Kanno was 181 centimeters, and Kuroba was 184 centimeters. Oda remembered everyone’s numbers, which were filled out on the entry sheet for the most recent tournament. Aoki, who would undoubtedly be the tallest of all the participants in the boys’ volleyball division, was the center, and Kanno, who had a good balance between offense and defense, was placed on the side. Kuroba was still quite inconsistent and capricious, but as long as he went with the flow, he would display outstanding offensive power.

The ballgame tournament was like an escape for his feelings, and he was more of a passive participant than anything, but…he was getting a bit excited. For a small club with eight members, they could do a four-to-four minigame at most, not being able to do a proper intragroup game. Even if it included amateurs, under the rules of a proper six-person system, they can compete with that lineup. There was no other opportunity like this.

The problem was the strength of his own team, but if they had someone who they could use even just a little…he skimmed past the next two teams, D and E, to finally reach the F team he would be leading. At the top of the list was Oda Shinichiro ◎ of 3-F. About four people were chosen from each grade below, but there were no double circles besides Oda. Compared to Team C, he couldn’t help but feel discouraged.

“…Haijima?”

That name was there.

Haijima Kimichika of 1-F. He of course didn’t have the double circle.

When he looked up from the list, Aoki nodded as if to say you finally noticed that? It seemed that this was the climax of “it’s gonna be interesting.”

“I didn’t think he’d choose volleyball. Wonder what brought that on. He’s been running away from you ever since that thing happened.”

“He’s not running away from me, and wasn’t that thing because of your assault?”

“I told you, it wasn’t assault. I was just telling him to be a little more careful about how he should speak to third-years.”

“With your foot?”

“Well, the foot was unintentional.” What’s the definition of assault where you do that and don’t call it assault?

After the incident in early April of the new school year in which Aoki kicked Haijima’s butt hard, every time they happened to catch sight of each other in school, Haijima was the one who acted casual…From our point of view, it’s blatantly obvious that he’s changing his route and escaping. He was big, so he could be recognized immediately even from a distance, but he wondered if he didn’t know he stood out. If you’re just unconsciously enjoying the benefits of that height, give it to me…He thought. Even here, his desire as a captain to have Haijima on the team and his personal feelings of jealousy mixed with each other.

The first practice day for Team F was next Monday. After one week of team practice, the ballgame tournament would arrive.

“I wonder if he’s gonna come.” What kind of face would he have if he came?

“Well, he might be the type who shamelessly comes with a face that says ‘My friend signed me up for an audition without asking me.’”

“Oi oi, that’s harsh…”

Contrary to his gentle appearance, Aoki had quite a sharp tongue. According to him, he had a principle of not holding back what he wanted to say and not doing what he didn’t want to do. But if you asked Oda, there was a part of him that thought, Is that so? Are you saying everything you wanted to say to me?

“…Hey, you already handed that in, right? The future course thing…”

Even if he thought it was better to think about it later, it got stuck in his head for a long time. There were invisible pebbles strewn about. It felt like those pebbles were plugging up the holes where energy was spouting out from.

Since it was the second future course survey, there was a first one as well, but at that time there was only the choices of literature or science and national or private schools. However, this time there was a column for writing your specific university of choice. For the time being, since this was a university prep school, there was hardly anyone who chose to find a job or go to a vocational school.

There was a pause, as though the sudden topic had caught him off guard, but Aoki’s tone didn’t change when he opened his mouth.

“Oh, not yet. I haven’t decided yet.”

It was a shock to be lied to. You were the one who already handed it in. I asked while knowing it, actually.

However, all he said was, “…I see. Well, you’ve still got time.”

The rumor had also spread to Oda’s class. First choice, the Kyoto University’s faculty of law—Apparently, there was someone who peeked at Aoki’s handout that had been handed into the staff room. Who would have thought it’d be Kyodai? He was shocked that he was that smart. No, I knew that, but still.

It was at that time that he had the belated realization that until that point, he almost never talked to Aoki about anything other than volleyball. We’ve seen each other almost every day for more than two years, so isn’t that pretty weird? In the first place, volleyball was the only thing they had in common. Except volleyball, their interests didn’t intersect at all (to be precise, volleyball was Oda’s only interest). Oda only ever brought up volleyball and never asked Aoki what his interests were, or what he wanted to do in the future.

I mean, Kyodai? Supposing that we won the prefectural representative rights for Spring Inter-High, you couldn’t retire until the main tournament in January. Even if you studied for the entrance exam in your spare time while you’re not doing club activities, will you be able to get into law school at Kyoto University? ——He only thought those things and couldn’t say it aloud. Because, what would he do if Aoki announced that he was going to prioritize entrance exams and retire? He probably couldn’t see him out quietly. He felt like imposing his own convenience and telling that he couldn’t retire because they barely had enough members. No, I’m sure Aoki will prolong his retirement as long as he can and stick with me. But, that only increased his debt to him.

Hey, how do you feel about being stuck with me? If you take away volleyball, then I’m just a boring person.

“Hey, do you…enjoy being with me?”

“What?”

He sounded half-crazy, as expected. He felt like it was an extremely sissy question and wanted to crawl into a hole.

“Ah…what’s wrong, Shin? You’re acting weird.”

“Weird?”

Apparently, it was weird for him to worry about anything other than volleyball. Even he himself thought so. As far as his path after high school was concerned, he could cite a number of intercollegiate powerhouse universities he was interested in as long as it was volleyball-related. But he was at a loss as soon as he stepped away from volleyball. He wondered if he lost in the Spring Inter-High qualifiers and retired, he would finally have to find something else he wanted to do, and though it was impossible to assume that they would fail the qualifiers, the idle thought flashed across his mind. Though he still only wanted to think about volleyball right now, his mind was too distracted to focus on one thing. If anything, the time when he couldn’t only think about volleyball has arrived.

Bzzzz, the seat of the chair beneath Aoki started vibrating. “Mm, ‘scuse me,” Aoki put his hand on his behind. His hand that was as long and thin as his physique operated his phone.

“Geh, a summons text from the president. I gotta go.”

“I’m going back too. Sorry to bother you when you’re so busy.”

“Yeah, but our conversation—”

“No, no, it’s done.”

He didn’t think he was convinced, but Aoki didn’t try to dig in any further, putting his phone away and got up as Oda stood. When they stood in a line, Aoki’s shoulders would be what was in his line of sight. It was somewhat easier when they were looking at each other, but the fact that he had become accustomed to the gap in their lines of sight made him feel mixed feelings in its own way.

Oda was 163 centimeters tall. The difference in height between him and Aoki was exactly twenty centimeters. The gap hadn’t been filled at all since he entered high school. He sometimes hated that his parents really named him Shinichiro. (3)

163 centimeters was barely taller than the average height of a typical girl, and while having a small build meant having a small build, he wasn’t extremely small. In other sports, there were plenty of male athletes in the 160 centimeter range who flourished in international competitions.

But for a volleyball player, and furthermore for an attacker, it was a fatally insufficient height. Even if he could manage it in high school, it would never work beyond university. He hadn’t told anyone yet that he was going to play volleyball until high school, but he was seeing the end in himself.

Why volleyball of all things?

But…there’s only one reason for that, isn’t there?

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#2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation #2.43 #2.43: seiin high school boys volleyball club

11 notes · View notes

absconditum-imaginaerum · 5 years

Text

ꓘ | EUNWOO

EUNWOO | ꓘ

WORDS | 7,650

NOTES | Baseball AU, Minuscule angst like maybe 1%, 99% fluff. Because I die for Eunwoo in a ball cap and jersey a little bit every time I see it. Plus he’s just the biggest, sweetest, cutie pie of all times.

For the third year in a row, you’d gotten roped into selling tickets to the baseball games for the rec league. Some conniving plot of the coordinator had tricked you into giving up your peaceful pre-weekend days to sit in a dusty shack looking booth to coax as many passersby as you could to buy a ticket—whether or not they attended the game was really none of your concern; your main priority was raising money for your local recreational boys baseball team. There were many in the city, but this team had the burned-out stars, the ones that didn’t play college ball then move on to bigger and better things, the high talent that didn’t even bother try out for that college team. There were some boys on that team who really could hit with the best.

The coordinator was close friends with your family, and for once the coach and the coordinator weren’t the same person. The coach also happened to be a close friend of your family. It was a scam, really, that got you to volunteer. You liked watching the games; they were fun especially when the crowds got involved, and your team happened to be playing a rival team who had a couple of pretty cute dudes on it, and you got free concession so there was really no reason to not sell the tickets.

At least the chair they’d given you this year was actually cushioned, and the booth seemed to have had a little renovation done to it, so it wasn’t as dusty and creaky as previous years, which made it much more approachable. There was a small fan mounted on the inside, so you had circulating air for the first time. You forced your best jovial attitude and happily greeted everyone who came up to buy a ticket for the couple of days in advance that you sold them, almost selling out before the game. The team was a bit more promising this year than prior years, most of the older folk having moved on from playing recreational sports. A few of your friends were even down to go to the game, so at least you wouldn’t be lonely—aside from the company of your family.

The sunny Saturday afternoon of the day of the game came quickly, and you sold the remaining tickets far before the game would even start, leaving you free to burn your legs on the plastic chairs that the stadium got, brand new. The rec team had come a long way from playing on a park field to actually having their own little stadium. It wasn’t much, but sometimes vendors came around and there were a couple of food stalls—nothing major, but it wasn’t a pee-wee field anymore.

You found your seat with your friends, throwing your small jacket over the seat to prevent most of the burning as they fawned over a couple of the players you used to go to school with, out across the field for warm-ups. You mostly ignored their chatter, downing half a bottle of water in the blistering late-afternoon heat. The soft sound of pop music in the background could hardly be heard over your friends chattering about a boy whose name you were familiar with—Kim Rowoon, the star and pitcher. Of course, so cliché to fawn over the pitcher; they got most of the attention even though they seldom played the whole game. He was always the opener, having unprecedented stamina and incredible recovery time between games. Behind the pitcher was usually the catcher—a veteran, Lee Hongbin—as the second most fawned over. Usually built boys with legs most girls would love to sit across.

Neither of them was really your type; they both had qualities you admired, but didn’t hit the right chord. The only one on the team who even remotely caught your eye, and it was probably because you saw him practicing a lot, was Cha Eunwoo, the first baseman. The park they used to play at was really close to your house, and now abandoned he spent a lot of time out there doing conditioning work or tossing it with some buddies from the team; sometimes you saw him at the batting cage when you went to blow off steam. He had a smile to die for, and the blush that crossed his cheeks when he’d meet eyes with you was simply adorable.

Aside from all of that, you were really there to watch baseball and take pride in your local team, to cheer with the surrounding fans and support them as ballplayers. So, when the game started, you were far more invested in that than whatever your friends continued to chime about to each other. You enjoyed your free snacks and ice-cold drinks, the summer sun shifting over the field to be right in the fielder’s eyes. It was a serious disadvantage always handled well.

A couple of fly balls came your way, sitting basically on the foul line; dangerous line drives that were better handled by those equipped and paying attention, exactly not your friends. Thankfully, you were surrounded by many avid fans who all brought their own gloves to catch those fly balls. You hooted and hollered for every base hit by your team, the surrounding fans drowning you with their deeper, louder voices. It was only a season opener, but the energy felt like a championship game.

The locals had done well through five innings, keeping the opposing team from scoring while hitting in a few of their own. Your legs were getting antsy, ready to be stretched after all the sitting, but it was two innings to go before the stretch. The only standing time came when you all were participating in a cheer or singing along to popular ballpark songs; it proved well enough to satiate you for the time being.

And lucky that it did. A pop up came toward your bleacher area, as they usually did with right-handed hitters. You lost it in the sun, trying to shield your eyes. Your first baseman, Eunwoo, was doing the same—though he was far more experienced tracking the ball in the sun than you were and with his ungloved hand shielding his eyes, he stutter-stepped his way over to the dividing wall before meeting eyes with you for a moment. He firmly planted his hand atop the wall you were sitting over and hopped the height of it, effectively falling into your lap, but the ball fell into his glove for the third out of the inning.

The crowed roared when he revealed the ball in his glove, but you were a blushing mess with all six feet of his sweaty, handsome frame cradled halfway in your lap. Your hands weren’t sure what to do now that they were holding him somewhat propped up. He turned his head up to you, peering at you from under the bill of his ballcap.

“Thanks for the assist,” he told you with a small smirk and you swore a wink before you were helping him back over the dugout.

Your friends were hollering for a different reason, teasing you about the look on your face, the undoubtedly fiery blush across your cheeks and the nerves in the shakiness of your voice when you replied, “You’re welcome?”

It was hard to focus on anything but him for the remainder of the game, especially when he kept glancing your way, and there was definitely no mistaking it. The sun had disappeared behind the stadium wall, leaving it mostly shaded aside from the far outfield, so there was no reason for him to be turning his head in your direction. The game ended soon enough, thankfully, with a score of 5-0.

That was the first real run-in you’d had with Eunwoo outside of normal conversations.

As time went on, outside of the games, you caught him at the park practicing more than normal, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t go check more often because you had to admit to yourself that perhaps you didn’t feel the same way about him as you used to anymore. He was a real, tangible human being that you had normal encounters with, and for some reason it hit you like a bus after the game that day. He wasn’t out of reach; he was a normal guy who happened to play a sport on a popular team. You couldn’t deny the presence of butterflies in your stomach when you thought about him anymore, like you had up until now. It felt like you were fawning over another untouchable celebrity for the longest time. Perhaps it was the way he was swarmed by other girls after the games, asking for photos and autographs, especially when the team was invited to travel—they felt like a regular old major league team sometimes.

The summer nights were still chilly, so you donned a light sweater whenever you went out to clear your mind on a late-night walk. You would never deny yourself even the thought of catching Eunwoo tossing the ball around at the park, even at nine in the evening, when the sun had gone down and was quickly fading away from twilight and into night. Sure enough, as you crossed the field you could see a couple of figures—one stature you could assume and the other you could recognize.

You crept up to the chain-link fence around the batter’s box and soundlessly looped your fingers on the temperate metal. Eunwoo was tossing the ball with Rowoon, which wasn’t unusual since they seemed to be pretty close friends on and off the pitch. But Rowoon wasn’t used to you like Eunwoo was, so when the taller of the two bodies saw you, he stopped with the ball for a moment before chucking it far over Eunwoo’s head and into the dirt of the batter’s box, rolling in the grass and up to the fence where it chimed a bit.

“Nice throw, dude,” Eunwoo scoffed and turned to go retrieve it, “star pitcher, psh…” he scoffed under his breath. It was hard to see under the one light that did give the field slight visibility, but he noticed you almost right away when he came to get the ball at your feet, albeit on the other side of the fence. He uttered your name as he approached the fence, suddenly far less concerned with the ball as the light from the one post glimmered off your glossy eyes as he looked right into them.

“It’s late, and getting cold,” he spoke softly as he, too, linked his fingers on the fence.

“It is,” you agreed, looking up at him, “And yet, here you are, begging to chastise me for being out?”

His gaze glanced away from you with a shy smile, caught in the act despite its hypocrisy.

“I suppose Rowoon didn’t like that I was just creepily looming over here; a star pitcher would never throw a ball so wild,” you laughed, knowing the exact thoughts going through Eunwoo’s mind when that ball came flying over to you. He sighed, having been reminded of both the ball and Rowoon who was undoubtedly questioning what the younger was doing, up at the fence with a stranger lurking. Speaking of the older male, he was quickly making his way over to the fence to see what all the action was about himself.

He seemed to recognize you well enough, as he addressed you soon after with, “Hey, you’re the girl from the season opener!” Nice, that’s how he remembered you, your eyes surely widened with shock as you trembled with Eunwoo over your lap for an inning closing catch. “I didn’t realize you and Eunwoo were actually that close?” he questioned, eyes looming over to Eunwoo who hardly paid him mind, but managed to answer.

“We’ve been coincidentally coming around this park for a while now, and occasionally see each other at the batting cages.”

“The batting cages? You play?”

“No, no it’s not—”

“Maybe you can toss the ball with Eunwoo for a bit; I have to get going and the guy’s relentless,” Rowoon laughed, roping you in, involuntarily, to play catch with Eunwoo. “See you later, bud, and try not to stay out so late!” he chimed, clapping a hand across Eunwoo’s shoulder and went to the bleachers to grab is bag before heading off.

“Wow, he really did leave you just like that.”

Eunwoo laughed shyly. “I do drag him out here, often, and late usually. I probably deserve this.”

Your fingers tightened around the fence. The Eunwoo was really standing in front of you, fingers linked in the same fence as yours, donned in ripped black jeans and a plain white shirt with a backwards cap to complete the look.

“Eunwoo,” you muttered, garnering his attention, “It’s late, and getting cold.”

“It is,” he replied, mimicking you.

“Eunwoo,” you chastised.

“Come throw the ball with me? Just for a little bit? And don’t even try to say you can’t throw; I’ve seen that arm in action.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you looked away from him, ready to turn and head home with no reply until he placed his fingers over yours through the link fence. “Please?”

“Fine, fine!” The smile that tugged at the corners of his lips perhaps made it all worth it as you tugged away from the fence to make your way to the break to allow you in. He gathered the ball from the dry grass and threw you an underhand pass.

“There’s another glove in my bag if you want to use it. It will be a little big, but—”

“It will be better than catching your bullet passes with my bare hands,” you replied with a laugh and dug through his bag for the worn leather and fitted it over your hand. It was quite a bit too large, but it would have to do as you stepped into a pass, throwing some heat with it.

“Alright, I feel it!” he answered with a nod, appreciating you throwing some fire his way, too.

He took it easy on you with the passes, and in turn you threw him some difficult digs, some jumpers, some perhaps a little too far to reach but Eunwoo nabbed every single one of them. It was for his practice, after all, not yours. You threw the ball around for another half an hour or longer and Eunwoo got the hint that you were about done the closer you got to him with every throw, until you were pushing the ball into his gloved hand with a laugh.

Despite all your throwing, Eunwoo pouted. “I can see why Rowoon gets so tired of you!” you exclaimed playfully, lightly smacking his large glove against his shoulder as you shimmied it off your hand.

“You barely threw with me for half an hour; I have that guy out here for hours in the blistering sun,” Eunwoo replied, as if it was supposed to make you feel better, but you feigned abuse—you barely threw the ball with him for half an hour when you weren’t even going to throw it with him at all. “Not that I don’t appreciate it!” he exclaimed, noting the quirk of your brow as his glove dropped into his bare hand when you tugged your own out of it.

“Do you even know what time it is?” you asked, turning to head towards the bleachers.

“Time for you to entertain the idea of a late-night coffee with me?” he asked, catching up with you.

“I just came out here to do all kinds of favors for you, didn’t I?” you shot back, turning to him a little too quickly. Eunwoo, entirely unprepared for you to stop and turn so suddenly, bumped right into you and had to grab your elbow to stop you from falling right onto the metal bleachers.

“Ouch, that was a little sharp,” he replied and dropped his gloves to the bench, feigning injury to his heart as he placed his free hand over it.

His warm breath expelled across your forehead as he held you close, quite a bit longer than truly necessary, but you weren’t complaining. You glanced up, right into his deep chocolate orbs which dazzled in the moonlight like fine gems. He looked so different with his hat on backwards, pinning his hair back from his forehead. Determination clouded his eyes, but you knew he was enough of a gentleman that if you rejected him one more time, he would let it go.

“You know I didn’t mean it that way,” you replied as a whisper, finally able to find words at all.

“I don’t know, it feels like you did,” he replied, a whisper as well, and finally let go of your elbow. Your gaze couldn’t help but drop from his and down to his chest as you thought of something to say.

When his breath hitched in his throat, you looked back up to his face. Your hand, more or less on autopilot, rose to press your palm flat against his chest, over his heart, right where his hand previously resided. This was far beyond the extent of any previous physical contact between the two of you, save for the season opener, so it was a little different as well as a little unexpected.

His flesh was warm through his shirt, but your hand dropped from his chest to dangle back at your side. He lifted his bag from the bleachers, hardly moving enough to do so, and never once broke eye contact with you as you looked up at him. Soon, your gaze turned away from his, tilting your head down to stare at your feet.

“I’m just playing with you,” he told you with a lighthearted chuckle, his slender index finger turning your jaw back up to look into your eyes again.

“It doesn’t feel like you’re playing,” you replied with a pout, which he promptly returned.

“Then maybe you should get to know me better; perhaps a late-night coffee run would do the trick,” he replied, trying to pull a fast one on you.

“Smooth and clever, Cha Eunwoo,” you answered, narrowing your eyes and reached up, cognitively this time, and pushed your hand against his chest to push his tall form back half a step. He was still giggling, that dazzling smile across his lips put a fluttery feeling in your stomach again.

“I want to get you home before you get sick,” he cooed back and placed his hand on your shoulder after noticing your shivering, somehow finessing you around him and gave an encouraging nudge against your back to have you leading the way.

It was a quiet walk side by side with your hands stuffed deep in the kangaroo pouch of your sweatshirt. His hand closest to you was also shoved into his pocket while the other held the strap of his backpack totting his mitts and balls. He took slow strides to keep pace with you as you meandered with your eyes trained against the dimly illuminated sidewalk, noting the cracks and crevices that adorned each slab of concrete.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he commented, just to break the ice.

“So are you,” you retaliated since he hadn’t really been making an effort to strike up conversation until now.

“I’m usually quiet. What happens to my outgoing, friendly, can-sell-anyone-a-game-ticket, super eager and talkative salesgirl when she leaves the booth? Does she forget that she can get anyone listening to anything she has to say?”

“You make me sound like some important celebrity,” you replied, unable to stop the laugh that cracked from your throat.

“You make me feel like some important celebrity, the way you tip-toe around the team in general sometimes,” he replied.

“You’re our regular ol’ homegrown superstars. You are important celebrities.”

You were looking at him now, and he was you, as he stopped in his tracks. “We’re just worn out, washed up, amateur ball players who have a good hometown fanbase. We’re just regular people; I thought you would have felt that all the times you’ve come around to see me messing around at the park.”

The blush that pricked your cheeks was inevitable with a statement as ominous and vague as that. You were sure he’d noticed you from time to time, but the way he said that made it sound like he noticed you a lot more than you wished. You wanted to disappear, the way he looked at you with brows raised as if in question.

“I don’t come around to see you, Cha Eunwoo,” you bit back as a weak defense. He’d let it slide, this time, and just chuckled as you continued to walk. He noted your shivering, and wanted to do something more for you but felt it would be a little taboo, given the situation. You tried to stave them for the moment, but failed miserably with the nod of your head, somewhat dismissing him as if to say it’s okay—you could feel him looking at you. Despite that, he stepped a little closer to you in matched steps, sharing if even a sliver of body heat with you, until you were in front of your home.

“I’m sorry for keeping you so late; I didn’t know it was going to get so cold,” he told you, looking over to your front door after swinging around to step in front of you.

“It’s not your fault,” you muttered back quietly.

“Are you coming to the game on Saturday?” he asked you, hopeful.

“Do I ever miss a game, Eunwoo?” you asked, slyly checking to see how much he paid attention to you, since he seemed to be so focused on how much you paid attention to him.

“Never,” he replied—correct.

“Then, I’ll see you at the game on Saturday,” you replied with a soft smile, not even waiting for his nod as you turned to your door, shoving your key into the hold to unlock it and left him on your step.

Part of you begged to peek through the peep-hole, pretty confident he was still standing in front of your door, but somehow you thought better of it and flicked on your porch light so he’d be able to see at least a little bit. His grip tightened around the strap of his bag as he took a deep breath.

“I can’t tell when you’re playing with me, and in what way you’re playing,” he sighed and glanced at your door before taking off.

You had your usual first base front row seats with all your friends who were there for each other while you were there for the game. Peculiar, the way Eunwoo seemed to avoid eye contact with you at all costs as he tossed the ball around to warm up with his teammates. Even when the ball rolled toward the dugout, he wouldn’t even look up to acknowledge you, knowing full well you were there.

Part of it stung a little bit, which was strange for you to admit considering how adamantly you were about shutting him down just a few nights ago. Maybe he paid attention to you a lot more than you had convinced yourself—in fact, he had to. All the time you’d been thinking about how he focused on you paying attention to him; he’d have to be paying attention to you to know.

The announcements began shortly, listing off the players as the game got ready to start. It was a warm late summer evening, comfortable enough without a sweater despite the one that was tied around your waist. You had a glove on one hand and a drink in the other, hair in a ballcap specially made for you and you ignored the chit-chat going on around you of people paying less than zero attention to the game as you got as cozy as one could be in a plastic bleacher seat.

Rowoon pitched a perfect opening inning, leaving it pretty boring for everyone else as the home team switched to batting. The first couple of batters were a bust, but when Rowoon hit a base hit, your friends went nuts. They were die-hard Rowoon fans, for a lack of a better word, and fawned over him from atop the dugout. Some called out to him, and he’d acknowledge them briefly which sent their little hearts in a tizzy.

It was things like that which made all the boys feel like superstars. Girls fawned over them like professional athletes, despite how adamant Eunwoo was about reassuring you that they were just regular people. Sometimes it felt that way, but most often times not as much.

A no run inning ended when Rowoon was forced out at second base, and the teams switched bringing the home team back onto the field again. The game didn’t get really interesting until the fifth inning or so when Eunwoo hit a three-run homer far into the grass beyond the outfield. He jogged slowly around the bases and part of you hoped that when he came up to first, he’d turn to at least look into the crowd.

The runs really started taking off after that, a few scored by each team among the subsequent innings, eventually resulting in a two-run win by the home team. While you cheered gleefully with the crowd, it wasn’t long before you grabbed your things with the intent of filing out like everyone else, despite normally staying after the game for a bit. Only then did Eunwoo glance up to find you as he headed into the dugout, watching you turn to leave which was pretty unusual.

“Grab my bag, would you?” he asked Rowoon, only looking at him long enough to confirm a nod before he was pushing his way around the stadium, trying to follow you most of the way.

He called your name a few times, perhaps not loud enough, so he tried again a bit louder. A couple of people glanced over to look at you, but you clearly had every intention of leaving the stadium without an imminent interaction. Once Eunwoo got into the stands, you were pretty much a wounded duck. He called your name a couple more times, asking you to wait up as he high-kneed it up the steps until he could take a gentle grasp of your arm.

“Hey,” he cooed quietly, a thick sap dripping down your spine as he took you by the elbow to turn you towards him, the rough fabric of his batting gloves scraping at your skin.

Your eyes met the gloved hand first and followed it up to his face. He was a little sweaty, beaded against his forehead with his hair pushed slightly to the side in a somewhat disheveled mess even under his ballcap. There was some squealing in the background that you didn’t quite register of girls that were interrupted by security and hauled away from you. Unable to find the correct words, or even any words at all, you stayed quiet.

A moment of pretty uncomfortable silence passed in which you were just looking at him. His eyes shifted away from yours with an inaudible scoff while he thought of something to say. When he did, his eyes shifted back to yours.

“Can we talk?”

If you weren’t nervous before, your heart was pounding in your throat now. After you’d turned fully towards him, you could feel his gloved hand slip from your arm and hear the Velcro holding them together being torn open as he tugged them off and stuck them in his pocket.

“I don’t think this is a good environment,” you reminded him, but part of it was just an excuse to get out of it—it was already awkward enough.

He was gnawing on his tongue, gears turning to come up with a solution.

“Eunwoo,” you cooed back, although it wasn’t as sweet. Your hand came up to press against his chest the same way it had the other night. His eyes shot back to yours, almost freezing the words in your throat that you managed to choke out. “I have to go,” you finished, hand slipping down his chest before he caught it with his. His hand swallowed yours, gripping it against his chest as he looked at you, a soft shake of his head which was meant to be more convicted got lost somewhere along the way.

“Please?” he managed to squeak, feeling your hand slip a little further so he tugged it harder. You could feel the way his heart raced under your palm. “I know you’re leaving like this because I’m dumb. I just want to explain—”

“Let’s compromise,” you interrupted. He seemed interested in cooperating because he stood quietly, albeit his hand was still clutching yours. “If you give me a few hours, I’ll meet you at the park, and we can talk there.”

He’d take it, firm that you’d keep your promise and he dropped your hand to let you go. You turned away from him without another look, another word, and headed out with the remainder of the crowd while he stood there in the empty bleachers. Perhaps it was better this way; you were giving him an opportunity to get his thoughts in order for a constructive conversation, while you gave yourself some breathing room to get over the feelings you had in the pit of your stomach throughout the game.

You went home and took a shower, got some food and tried to relax a bit. You’d texted him a time and even though it was pretty late, he still agreed to meet. The sun had already gone down so as you headed out, you pulled on a loose hoodie to keep you warm out in the cold—who knew how long you were going to be out there—and began your trek to the park, but not without a special something.

When you came up to the chain link fence, you could see he was already there, laying in the grass and throwing a ball in the air—a dangerous game to be playing considering if he missed the catch it would hit him probably in the face. Either way, you carefully stacked the cups in your hands to free one of them, enough to wrap your fingers through the links and jingle them quietly.

He rolled over, spotting you in the shadows just out of reach of the lone stadium light. Slowly he got up and approached you, feet dragging somewhat through the dirt as he made it to the fence, linking his fingers through it and against yours.

“It’s getting cold out,” he uttered to you, as if it was the scenario with Rowoon all over again, as if it was a do-over.

“That’s why I brought coffee,” you replied, still trying to balance both cups one on top of the other. He followed you along the chain fence to the opening in it where you handed him a cup. He took it with both hands gratefully, but was still more focused on you.

“Perhaps it’s unconventional and inappropriate, but may I hug you?”

You took a deep breath, “I don’t see why not.”

He took you around the shoulders and tugged you smoothly into his chest. He was fresh, a familiar teakwood scent filling your nose that buried in his hoodie. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the front of his shoulder, especially as he leaned his head against the top of yours. The strong scent of coffee wafted through the open air, interrupting more pleasant smells from time to time until he finally let you go.

It was a silent walk over to the bleachers, which he led you passed out into the open grass which was still plush and full of summer life. He plopped into the grass first, reaching out as a support for you to sit down next to him which you took hesitantly until you were seated next to him.

“You’re very sweet even when you’re mad at me,” he commented to you, looking down at the coffee he cradled in both of his hands.

“Who said I’m mad at you?” you questioned, taking a sip of your steaming cup—far too hot to be drinking just yet.

“It goes without saying,” he replied. Ouch, were you that obvious?

“You wanted a coffee date, and I was a little harsh, and I regret some things I said so, I figured it was only right that I bring you some coffee.”

The heavy exhale that came from him almost startled you. This conversation was probably going to be a lot more difficult than he originally planned, not that there had been extensive planning going on while he tried to figure out how to approach it. He practiced what he was going to say, only to scrap it and start over, eventually just heading to the park to toss the ball and try to forget, hoping that winging it would be okay.

You watched his profile, watched the way he swallowed, the way his breathing was a little choppy as he queued something to say only to trash it once more. His fingers were picking at the hot sleeve around his cup, spinning it in the grass as his gaze cast into the abyss.

“I am a little upset with you,” you finally said just to break the silence.

“I know,” he replied shakily, “and you deserve to be. I’m actually surprised you stuck to our meeting. I probably wouldn’t have if I was you,” he added honestly, but he still wouldn’t look at you. “I’m just a dumb boy who doesn’t deserve your attention.”

“You’re not dumb,” you quickly replied, “but you are a boy, and that causes some problems.” Even he gave a weak-hearted chuckle at your small jab.

You reached out to press your hand against his chest over his hoodie. His chest expanded quickly with his sharp inhale, his heart banging against your hand, against the cage of his chest. His hand left his coffee for a moment to clutch over your hand against his chest again, this time a little more afraid it would leave before he was ready. Still, he wouldn’t look at you, afraid of the gaze you might greet him with.

“Even if you didn’t deserve my attention, I can’t help but give it to you sometimes,” you whispered to him, hoping that would get him to turn, but he was stone cold. You watched the way his jaw clenched, nerves a little more than pre-game jitters coursing through his veins; you could tell. You frowned, scanning the side of his face with a sigh, taking in every last detail of his profile.

“Eunwoo,” you whispered. Only then did he look over at you.

“Why?” he asked. “Why do you?”

You shook your head with a shy smile, casting your gaze away. “Because. You’re sweet, and you treat me as far more than just the girl who sells out your tickets. You talk to me like we’re just two people, equals. I thought about it and, you’d have to be paying attention to me to notice how much I pay attention to you, right?” you asked, but it only brought out his nerves again. The blush pricked at his cheeks and he turned to try to look away from you, but your fingers furled against his sweater to feel his raging heartbeat.

It was pretty clear he had no intention of looking back over to you, so, despite his disenchantment, you pulled your hand away from his chest, but wrapped it around his near bicep as you laid your head against his shoulder.

“How’s your coffee?” you asked, reminding him of its existence.

“It tastes like you’re too sweet to me,” he replied.

“That’s a lie and we both know it,” you laughed; you really hadn’t been very nice to him lately.

“You’re mad at me and you still bring me coffee? You still meet with me when you know I don’t deserve it? I’ve stonewalled you most of this conversation and you still show me affection?” he inquired.

“Eunwoo,” you growled; he was being a little difficult with you now and you couldn’t tell if it was because he really was that dense or if it was because he just wanted to avoid the conversation all together. You slipped your hand back over his chest, trying to tell what he was thinking by the pace of his heart. Met with a rickety inhale, he finally looked at you.

“I can’t handle you,” he growled, brow knitting together as he glared at you, watching your eyes scan over him. You turned on your hip, rolling onto you knees to face him and brought your hand up to cup his soft cheek. His eyes fluttered a bit, still trying to watch your gaze which was oh so gentle as you looked at him. His tongue couldn’t help but peek out to moisten his dry lips before swallowing hard.

“Tell me more, let’s have a conversation,” you encouraged, tracing against his sharp jawline with the soft tips of your fingers, stroking against his cheek, clouding his already muddy thoughts as his eyes fluttered closed.

“I can’t handle the way you look at me,” he started, a little shaky but a start nonetheless.

“Say more; is it a good look or a bad look?” you asked, looking over his face as he leaned into your touch.

He hissed, inhaling sharply, “A good look, I think,” he replied. “At least, I want it to be.”

“Why do you think it’s a good look?” you asked him.

He was clawing at the grass, one hand weaved through that while the other lay in his lap, left there from clutching over your hand against his chest that was still occupying the sharp features of his face.

“I don’t know… It’s always gentle; maybe this isn’t the word but… wanting? It makes my heart beat hard, makes me short of breath,” he uttered, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re always gentle with me, in everything. The way you look at me, the way you talk to me, the way you touch me, the way you handle me… even when we’re joking around and being a little rough, you’re still gentle.”

You reached up to brush his hair out of his closed eyes, carding it away from his forehead only to trace back down the side of his face.

“So gentle,” he almost whined, turning into your hand, lips brushing against your palm, the cushion of your thumb.

“What else can’t you handle?” you asked, looking over his face, the consternation that crumpled it in certain places as he tried to piece together some thoughts, anything to give you a coherent sentence.

“How I feel about you,” he finally managed as his eyes opened, brow still furrowed as he feared a disappointed look on your face that he never got. You looked at him tenderly, waiting for him to explain.

“Tell me more,” you requested again and settled onto your ankles with your legs tucked underneath you, fully attentive to anything he had to say because you knew he wouldn’t say it more than once. You watched as he swallowed hard, eyes glancing away from you for only a moment; his fingers were picking at the grass again, you could hear the roots pop when he dislodged some blades.

“I wanted to tell you this the other day,” he began, “when we were talking about how you see us as some type of celebrities. I wanted to tell you how equally untouchable you feel to me; that having affectionate feelings for you was laughable and futile because you’re so out of my league—”

“Weren’t you the one telling me that we’re just regular people?” you asked him with a soft chuckle, a smile that dazzled him so and sent sparks through every vein in his body. “Silly boy, don’t you know how into you I am?”

He almost pouted, that was the way you would describe the look on his face. The hand that rested in his lap rose to touch gently against your jaw, his glossy eyes shifting from yours down to your mouth. Eunwoo’s long, soft, slender fingers filed into the hair under and behind your ear to tug pleadingly against the back of your neck. He brushed his nose against yours, nuzzling affectionately as your breath mingled with his. You knew he wouldn’t, he wasn’t that bold even if you were giving him all the signs.

“Maybe I could use a reminder,” he uttered breathily, fanning it across your face but most particularly against your lips where a smile broke. You pressed a hand against his chest, but instead of leaving it there to feel his heart, you had different plans.

“Then you’ll have to catch me, superstar,” you told him and pushed him down onto his back, scrambled to your feet and took off.

Eunwoo could feel the adrenaline spike up into his throat as he flipped over in the grass, digging in with his feet to take off after you. One short glance over your shoulder and you squealed—he was closing in fast. You ran as fast as your legs would take you over to the chain link fence of the batter’s box where you knew he could easily corner you, but he got a touch against your hip barely at the edge of the dirt. You choked a shriek back as both of his large hands engulfed your hips, tugging you back into him just over home plate to wrap his arms around you and bury his face against the crook of your neck.

“Got you,” he muttered, swaying with you a bit as your messy feet worked through the dirt.

“You’re faster than I gave you credit for,” you told him, the last part coming out as a half-sigh when he boldly pulled back just enough to kiss against your neck, passed the hood of your sweatshirt. Your hands tightened over his, having been placed there when he brought you against his body.

“You ran right for this fence and gave yourself no chance, you wanted me to catch you,” he growled playfully against your ear as he continued to walk you towards the fence. It rattled a bit when he turned you around and pushed you up into it, taking the links between his fingers as he pinned you in.

“As if I thought I ever had a chance of out running you,” you breathed, eyes glancing from his glossy lips and up to his eyes as he stood against you, the warmth of his body transferring to yours as your hands furled in the fabric of his hoodie around his waist.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lip as he unlinked the fingers of his right hand from the fence, just to take your chin between his thumb and knuckle of his index finger.

“You never had a chance,” he whispered, leaning in with the tilt of his head to brush passed your nose and take your anticipating lips against his. Your tightening knuckles tugged at his hoodie, pulling him a shuffling half-step closer to you as his other hand withdrew from the fence to take both of your cheeks in his warm palms. The kiss lingered for a moment, melting you in his grasp until he pulled away for a moment, only to lay another gentle peck against your mouth and his eyes fluttered open to look at you. You were still relishing, eyes closed and brow slightly furrowed, hands still tugging at his dark hoodie and you swallowed hard. His fingers were soft against your neck, carding through some of the hair that playfully laid around your ears and nape, thumbs stroking against your cheeks.

Words queued up in each other’s throats, begging to say something about the magic sparking through your veins, but the both of you paused and waited for each other, resulting in a couple of dazzling smiles and soft chuckles until you pushed into him, pressing your face into his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his middle. His heart was steady, hands gentle as he cradled you against him and he kissed against your head.

You took his hand and laced your fingers with his in an attempt to tug him back over to the cups, tall and half-full with cooled coffee, but he took your far cheek with his far hand and tugged your face just a tad so he could press his lips into your cheek.

“How are you going to break it to the guys?” you asked him as he tugged his hand from yours to collect the baseball he was tossing to stuff in his pocket and his coffee cup and you collected yours as well before he took your hand again, turning to take you home.

“Well, when we win our next game, I’m probably going to climb on top of the dugout and smooch you in front of the whole team on camera on the jumbotron,” he told you matter-of-factly.

“Eunwoo!” you gasped and looked at him incredulously, but knew he was fibbing with the shy smile that broke against his lips and softly shook his head, and brought your laced hands up to his face to kiss the back of yours.

“They can just keep guessing. I’m sure they’ll figure it out,” he answered and leaned over to steal a quick kiss. Already, he couldn’t get enough.

#eunwoo #astro #eunwoo scenarios #eunwoo fluff #astro scenarios #astro fluff #cha eunwoo #eunwoo imagines #astro imagines #kpop fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #it's called k because the backwards k signifies a strikeout in baseball #ha I'm so clever; ailea shut up

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captainchrisfics · 5 years

Text

Slipped

About: On a press run for Defending Jacob, Chris’s mind drifts to every other thing he’d rather be doing than answering questions, causing him to subconsciously reveal his relationship status which sparks a slew of probing questions and potential problems for the newly public couple

Word Count: 3,153

Requested By: Anon. Thanks for the submission! I’m always happy to accept inspiration, especially when it’s a concept I get excited over before I even start the story. Hope it’s everything you thought it’d crack up to be :)

It’d be an understatement to say Chris was tired of doing press for Defending Jacob. Usually, he didn’t mind the tours too much anymore. Sure, it was his least favorite part of the job, but a few years working for Marvel and he’s learned how to cope with it. That being said, it’s gotten harder knowing he’s got someone waiting for him at home.

The uncomfortable director’s chair he’d been stuck in for hours while interviewers cycled in and out had him longing for the time he’d get to spend tucked underneath the covers, curled up next to you on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in his lap and Dodger at your feet. As per usual, you’d take handfuls if his snack after asking for a piece or two when he’d offered to get you your own in the first place. You’d say it tasted better when it was his and he’d roll his eyes but laugh from his belly anyway. Eventually, you’d get up and return with a bottle of wine that somehow paired perfectly with Doritos and left you two feeling warm inside and out. You’d fill up on so much junk food that dinner would slip your minds so you’d just keep watching some Netflix shows you’d already seen while Chris was away until it got dark enough that you’d beg him to come to bed. He’d just hold you closer to his chest and ask for five more minutes, relishing in your combined warmth and the comfort of how the couch cushions molded themselves to your bodies already, until you both fell asleep there instead without realizing until the early morning. He’d be woken up by you stirring, climbing off of his chest to slink back to bed with a pillow instead of his pec and his ribs would feel empty without your weight so he’d follow you.

Neither of you would fall back asleep though. Instead, Chris would brush your hair out of your face and tell you about how he was thinking of making pancakes for breakfast even though it’d only be three or four in the morning and really the only thing on his mind would be that you had the loveliest eyes. You’d say you’d rather have waffles just to put up a fight about something since the peace of laying in his arms was too good on its own, but given time, you’d doze off and wake up to ready blueberry pancakes since he knows you’d prefer them anyway. Then he’d peck your purple-stained lips until you kissed him so hard the color transferred like lipstick.

Yeah, that sounded a hell of a lot better than answering nearly identical questions so many times in a row he’d lost count. Chris greeted the new interviewer with a tight-lipped smile and a firm handshake. “Before we start, I just want to say I love your work,” she said with a polite smile. Chris brushed the compliment off with a wave of his hand as he thanked her, but he wasn’t too fond of pleasantries at the moment. He didn’t want to be rude, but they were time-takers as far as he was concerned.

She launched into the usual questions. How this role was different for him, any funny memories from the set, what he thought about the story. Nothing he hadn’t already gone over and, frankly, he’d already lost his enthusiasm for being interrogated. Soon they both grew rather bored as his answers ran dry and her questions became weak and they were both just killing time, probably so they could sell more advertising space on the video.

“So starring in an Apple TV series has got to be a lot different than waiting maybe years for fans to see the next installment of a movie series,” she said, sitting back comfortably as she referenced his old role as Captain America without saying it. That’s all anyone ever wanted to talk about. “Are you looking forward to a different kind of response with that in mind?”

“Yeah,” Chris paused to clear his throat, shaking his head a little to try to rid his head of the curve of your lips. “I am. I mean, I love a good night in binging something so I hope the audience will enjoy that as well.” His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think a little deeper, maybe find something tucked in the corner of his mind he hadn’t said yet, but he came back empty-handed. Chris shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he tugged at his blue t-shirt, itching to be anywhere but there.

“Oh, yeah?” she inquired, trying to keep the conversation casual. Don’t get him wrong, Chris thought she was friendly enough, but the thing was that nothing about these things ever are. It was all so contrived and uncomfortable, saying things preprinted on a cue card, but they always tried to pass it off as an easygoing conversation between people who actually knew more about each other than just their first names. In fact, Chris hadn’t even caught that. “I’m sure everyone would love to know, what’ve you been watching lately?” She ruffled a hand through her hair as her eyes drifted away, clearly losing interest in the conversation as well.

He contemplated the question for a moment, scratching his beard as he answered with a shrug, “Stranger Things mostly. The acting is phenomenal, especially those kids.” The woman across from him started picking at her nails as she hummed in acknowledgment. “I like that, too. Thoughts on the third season?”

Chris’s eyes grew wide and a sudden burst of energy jolted through his posture as he shushed her. “I’m still catching up so, please, no spoilers. My girlfriend is bad enough,” he laughed at his own half-joke. Chris thought of how you couldn’t even get through an episode without squeezing his hand too hard when something gory was about to happen or gasping with the shock of realization a second before the twist actually transpired. The suspense was always ruined for him, but the way you balled his shirt in your fist while letting out a cute little squeak and turning into the crook of his neck, where you fit so perfectly, made it easy not to mind.

Chris didn’t need much of an excuse to wrap a strong arm around your shoulders and pull you into his lap, relishing in being your comfort blanket. He’d hum as he rubbed your back so gently it sent more goosebumps up your spine than the scary scene. Even if it wasn’t so bad and long after it was over if it was, you’d stay curled up in the pit between his crossed legs, pressing your front to his until you were convinced Chris could never be unstuck from you. He was always so warm and he smelled more like home than your apartment did while he was away. He could tell by the way your body relaxed as his hands roamed over every muscle taught with anxiety when you were finally at peace again, eliciting a self-satisfied smirk that was probably plastered on his face right now just thinking about it.

“I’m sorry,” the reporter bolted up straight in her chair, leaning forward as she caught the bit of new goss like a gold nugget finally discovered stuck in silt. “Your what now?” She tucked her tight curls behind her ears, making sure she heard him correctly this time around, although Chris was sure the camera caught his slip of the tongue the first time around.

Chris’s eyes dropped to the floor as he scratched his upper lip with his thumb in an attempt to suppress his shit-eating grin. He’d managed to keep the secret for nearly a year now. So many exits through back doors of restaurants or clubs to avoid paparazzi, countless sunglasses collected to make sure you both had somewhat of a disguise on you at all time, seemingly endless trips traveled apart as to not raise suspicion about the girl with a jacket over her head at his side. All to keep a little piece of paradise to himself without the prying fingers of rumor-happy gossip reporters typing clickbait to churn out articles and the harsh spotlight of a gaze the judgmental, beady public eye had to offer. All to save you from getting burned in the limelight that accompanied his career, a life he didn’t want to subject you to since you never asked to be the topic of global outcry over taking a famous bachelor off the market. All for Chris to blow it in the last five minutes of what was so close to being any other interview.

“Uh... fuck,” he slipped in under a sigh of defeat. “Yeah,” he stretched to scratch the back of his head, trying to make a smooth recovery in front of the cameras. “My, um, my girlfriend likes that- she’s a big fan of Stranger Things, but, I mean... you know, who isn’t?” Chris laughed in an attempt to pass off the comment as casual instead of life-altering though he wasn’t confident it managed to mask his stutter. Nothing about the pit in his stomach was normal, though. Or the onslaught of questions thrown his way, prolonging the q&a session with a newfound source of torture. Moreover, how he couldn’t stop his mouth from moving, speaking with an eagerness from his heart that didn’t quite connect with his mind.

Like a bottle that’d been shaken, Chris’s cork finally blew and he just couldn’t shut up about you. She asked what he liked about you. He said it was the way that you could pop his bubble when his head was getting a little too big, keeping him grounded instead of in the clouds with the other L.A. stars. She asked how you two met and he told her he’d been head over heels from the moment you stole his taxi in New York and tried to fight him when he climbed in right behind you anyway. Then she wanted to know what he loved about you and Chris couldn’t stop himself from going on about the way you’re so ordinary in the best way, but still so inherently extraordinary just by your nature, managing to always keep him on his toes as well. She didn’t inquire anything about how Dodger took to you, but Chris told her about how the first time he took you home his dog barreled into you so hard he knocked you over and licked your cheeks maybe even more times than Chris kissed you that night. With raised eyebrows and a poorly suppressed grin, she asked if he thought you were the one. Chris insisted he was sure of it.

At the moment, he was elated to finally have the freedom to talk about the best part of his life so openly, even if it was to a reporter whose point was to exploit whatever he shared. And, boy, was he like a kindergarten kid with a cold. He told her everything short of your social security number and credit card information. It felt like the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders, but the gravity of what he’d done started to make him ache on the car ride home and grew to be all but oppressive by the time he swung open your front door.

“So,” he started with a long sigh. Chris’s lips sucked into a whistle, like the sound of a bomb about to drop. “I may or may not have accidentally let it slip that I’m in a committed relationship.” He stood in the open doorway, kicking off his shoes in an attempt to pass off an air of nonchalance.

“Oh, really?” Your eyebrows perched at the top of your forehead as your eyes rose to meet his over the edge of the book you were curled up reading only for a split second. “And who exactly might your secret mistress be?” You turned the page with a smirk, much to Chris’s chagrin.

Yeah, his annoyance surprised him too. Still, his hands fell to his sides as he stared at you with a suspicious incredulousness. “Haha, very funny.” He rolled his eyes as he found it safe enough to close the door behind him without much of a reaction from you. “I thought you’d be more... upset?” He suggested, unsure of why he couldn’t just be grateful she wasn’t screaming over him spoiling their secret love life. But there was a nagging in his stomach that he couldn’t ignore. Why go through all the trouble of seeming single when she evidently didn’t mind being a public couple? After all, he did it for your sake, right?

You caught on to the tinge of disappointment in his tone and dropped your novel on the coffee table, slinking up from the sofa like a stretching cat. Chris stayed planted in the doorway, watching every move of yours intently with a bitten lip and bated breath. After all this time, at least you still managed to surprise him.

“Don’t be upset that I’m not, darling,” you said despite an inkling that it was about much more. Arms snuck around his waist as Chris’s shoulder sagged even more than they already were, trying to compensate for your height difference as he melted into your touch.

“I’m proud of you,” you said, crawling behind him and stretching to your tiptoes to rest your head on his shoulder. Your nose brushed his bearded cheek as you whispered, “I’m grateful for you.” You placed a long kiss on his shoulder before moving your lips up his neck and stopping at his cheek, kissing every inch of Chris you could reach. “I’m in love with you.” Still, from behind, you brushed his hair behind his ear, something so intimate he couldn’t help the way it made his heart flutter. “Why wouldn’t I want the world to know it?”

Chris resisted his urge to shrug out of fear that you’d take it to mean he was trying to be dismissive. In all honesty, as much as he liked wrapping his arms around you like a present, being in your embrace instead might just beat it out. “Because... I don’t know. We’ve done so much to keep this between us, maybe we aren’t ready for the whole world to have a say,” Chris craned his neck to peck the top of your head as he places his hands over yours on his stomach, lacing your fingers together. “Sorry I said something about us in the first place. It just kind of... slipped.”

You shook your head as you tried to reassure him. “Chris, baby, you really don’t have to be. I’ve known who you were from the start. I’m the one who spent months convincing you that I’d be alright if news got out before we began dating, right? God, that feels like forever ago,” you paused to sigh, getting lost in a memory of only for a moment.

Chris insisted on exchanging information so you two could share the taxi and send whoever got out last part of the fare since he claimed rides seemed to be in such high demand it’d be near impossible to find another. Honestly, he just wanted to spend more time with you, it’d been so long since someone screamed at Chris Evans the Famous Actor on a street like that you intrigued him. You two ended up hitting it off, each asking the driver to continue to a different address whenever the one previously requested approached until you both decided on a bar. The sheer amount of digits on that bill was something you’d never forget, but you’d managed to snag something even more memorable.

You and Chris were fast friends and, once you finally mustered the guts to admit that you liked him a little bit more than that, he realized how much couldn’t stand the idea of dragging down a red carpet with him. Not because of you, but because of the way he knew you’d be treated. The unkind comparisons they’d make. The lewd questions they’d ask. The accusations they’d throw your way. But you didn’t care about that. All you paid a mind to was what Chris thought, which you were eventually able to convince him of, and he’d agreed to put his heart before his head under the condition that you’d keep it low profile at the beginning. The first few weeks turned into months which melded into almost a year. It seemed like yesterday and centuries simultaneously. Now seemed as good a time as any to remind Chris of that same sentiment again.

“Point being, I’m here to stay no matter what the DailyMail has to say about it. You don’t need to worry about them driving me away. You know I don’t scare easily.” You turned Chris in your arms so he was facing you and reached fasten his shirt a button or two, causing him to smile softly as the apples of his cheeks gained a rosy hue. The balmy look of love in his blue eyes didn’t come close to matching your intensity, trying to pour every ounce of sincerity into your expression so Chris would take it to heart. “I think it’s past time we got to walk in the same entrance anyway,” you finished with a crooked smile, causing Chris to chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

Your hands met in the middle, swinging back and forth ever so slightly as Chris watched your interlocked fingers intently. “I guess you’re right. It’ll be nice to do this in public,” he sighed, drawing circles on the backs of your hands with his thumbs. “You know what I really want to do right now though?” Chris inquired, earning a low hum as you pressed an ear to his chest. “All damn day I just wanted to plant our asses on that couch, watch some Stranger Things, and not move until the morning.”

You laughed and said you’d grab his snacks, to which Chris couldn’t help but point out your acknowledgment that they are in fact his. When you returned from the kitchen with a bottle of wine, a bag of popcorn, and all the candy you could find, you plopped down next to your boyfriend and pulled a blanket over your laps. Leaning against his side, you shoved a handful of M&M’s into your mouth while waiting for Netflix to load.

“I thought you’d be better at keeping secrets given the whole Captain America thing,” you joked, poking his ribs lightly. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to tell my boss to shove off before I made my boyfriend break out his shield, but you just get to spill for funsies? So unfair.”

As much as Chris feared things would change once that interview was released, staring down at you as you perched your chin on his shoulder and locked your arms together, absentmindedly scrolling through your recently watched shows, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the two of you would stay like this forever, inside of your apartment or out and about in the rest of the world. Now that was something he could get used to.

Tags: @patzammit , @thegetawaywriter , @coffeebooksandfandom , @captainsteveevans , @intrepidandabitcrazy , @super100012 , @spilledinkindumpster

If you’d like to be tagged in my future fics, please reply to this post :)

#can you tell what I've been watching? I'll give you three guesses #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #imagine chris evans #chris evans drabble #reader x chris evans #CEvans #cevans fanfiction #cevans fic #Cevans fanfic #imagine cevans #cevans x reader #reader x cevans #chris evans masterlist #cevans masterlist

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cannibalisticapple · 5 years

Text

I have fallen into the Sprinkles Cult by @corndog-patrol and was going to send an ask about it, but then this happened instead. I don’t know how this happened, I don’t even know if it’s in the Villain!Mic AU or the canon universe or what.

Maybe this is set in all the AUs, in all the many different multiverses both hero and villain, civilian or not, Quirked or Quirkless.

ALL HAIL SPRINKLES

The first time Hizashi thought something might be off was when he came home to find a pentagram drawn on the floor in what might be blood.

Now, Hizashi lived in a pretty bad neighborhood so it wasn’t too weird that someone might break into his apartment and draw the symbol of a satanic ritual. Actually, this wasn’t even the first time this exact thing happened (which was a weird story for another day).

Unlike last time though, the people who broke in hadn’t ransacked his place to steal stuff. Also, the lingering smell of vanilla-scented candles pervaded the area, indicating they’d actually been lit this time, with a touch of rotten eggs. It confused him because when he checked his fridge he didn’t even have any eggs. Confused, he went to the remains of the candles sitting at the ends of each point of the pentagram.

“Do you think these things can go bad?” Hizashi asked Sprinkles while scratching his head. The lovely soft ginger-brown cat mewed, blinking her big, sparkly eyes with an innocence that gave him no answers but still filled him with warmth and reassurance. Aww, how could he ever feel sad when he had Sprinkles around? Thank goodness the people who broke in hadn’t hurt her!

With that thought he decided to rekey his locks just to be safe. Who knows what satanic cults would do to a sweet cat like Sprinkles? On his way to the store he dropped the five used candles in a random dumpster, figuring it’d be safer to get rid of them.

oOoOo

The second time he felt something might be going on was when he was going through his drawers.

He’d been rooting through his “leftover” drawer for something to wear, having already uprooted most of his closet and the other drawers. Nothing had really stuck out to him today, so he’d turned his attention to the bottom right drawer which he rarely touched. The “leftover” drawer was full of clothing that had fallen out of favor for whatever reason, like having to rid of the usual paired garment. He should probably clean it out sometime.

He picked up a shirt for a band that made his nose wrinkle (seriously, how had he ever liked those guys!?), and that’s when he saw it. The bright yellow stars against the purple fabric caught his eye immediately, his face lighting up with delight.

“That looks perfect!” he exclaimed, tossing aside the band shirt to pull out the starry-patterned garment. His excitement soon fell though as he realized it wasn’t a cool shirt, but some sort of... Actually, he wasn’t sure what it was? When he held it up it unfolded a bit, revealing a large rectangle of fabric. It had a sort of curve to the center, and holes near each end of the rectangle.

He turned it around with a frown, puzzled. “Is this one of those hair towel things?” he muttered uncertainly. He’d seen some special towels for sale designed to easily wrap your hair after showers. It didn’t feel like a towel though, the fabric not exactly water-absorbent. The two holes also seemed to point away from that being the case.

Glancing at the drawer as if hoping it would provide some form of answer, he was then surprised when it kinda did. There was another starry-patterned thing there, a little smooshed from being stored under all the clothes. When he pulled it out it almost instantly popped into its regular shape, revealing a wizard hat. A very small, cute wizard hat.

“Heh, this is kinda cute,” he said to himself with a small smile. Pausing, after a long moment he put it on his head and twirled to look in his mirror. Alas, the hat was too small for his human head and looked more silly than fun, his shoulders slumping in disappointment as he sadly removed it. Darn, Hizashi loved getting to dress up in silly looking stuff.

More importantly though, he still had no idea what the other thing was, or even where they came from. As he looked at them in disappointment he heard a familiar meow from the doorway, and turn to find Sprinkles blinking up at him with big sparkly eyes. “Hey Sprinkles,” he greeted with a big smile.

A bit of inspiration struck him, and he trotted over to plop the hat on her head. It fit perfectly, her ears disappearing inside and making him crow in delight. “Hah! That looks great, Sprinkles!” he cheered. “Like it was made for you!” He paused then, his gaze returning to the mystery fabric still in his hand. Hold on, maybe, just maybe...

Curiosity piqued, he removed the hat and tried to pull the mystery garment over her. Sprinkles was surprisingly patient with his attempts to dress him, even as he covered up her head in his attempts to pull it on. It seemed like it might not work, but then her head popped through the bigger hole and she blinked up at him with another happy mew.

Hizashi had to pause then, hands flying briefly to cover his mouth. “Oh my gosh,” he whispered. After several long seconds he gingerly reached out and pulled the tip of her tail through the hole on the other end. It popped through and immediately puffed up to its regular fluffiness, and his hands immediately returned to cover his mouth with a small squeak.

Eyes flicking to the hat, he pried one hand from his mouth to slowly reach out and pick it up, quickly depositing it on her head. His hand flew back as he gave another squeak, his eyes lighting up.

“Oh my gosh!” he repeated in a high-pitched squeak, voice breaking just slightly. Sprinkles just mewed, all sparkles and sunshine as she stood there in all her magical wizard glory.

Hizashi covered his mouth as he gave a muffled squeal, doing everything to keep his Quirk from slipping through. “It’s like it was made for you!” he squeaked out. Sprinkles was just so cute like this, it was almost like magic!

That night Sprinkles got a lot more love than usual, and given how much he usually fawned over her that was saying a lot.

(In the end, he forgot to wonder about where the stuff came from.)

oOoOo

The third indicator something was off was when he posted a picture of Sprinkles.

At first posting a picture of her in the wizard costume to his Twitter seemed like the obvious thing to do. How could he not share her adorableness with the world? Sprinkles was so cute in the wizard outfit! It captured the absolute innocence and cuteness that was the essence of Sprinkles! And all 43 pictures turned out great!

But seconds before hitting the “Tweet” button with three of the cuter photos he’d hesitated, a sudden doubt overtaking him. What if Sprinkles might be too cute? What if some jealous soul saw that picture of Sprinkles, and became so entranced by her adorableness that they decided to kidnap her? He’d already had satanists break in with egg-scented vanilla candles!

In the end, he decided not to. The risk was just too great.

But he couldn’t not show off his kitty, she was just too cute! So he decided to post a more neutral picture of her au naturel instead, settling on a picture of her sitting on the kitchen counter next to a bowl of ice cream. In his opinion it highlighted the sparkly quality of her eyes quite well, and was reasonably cute, but not might-get-her-kidnapped cute.

He added a caption “It’s all too sweet!” and hit send, and then muted his phone for the rest of the night. Using electronics too close to bedtime would make it that much harder to go to sleep after all, and even a handful of notifications would keep him up.

The next day, he unlocked his phone and almost fell off his chair when he saw all the likes and retweets he’d gotten. The picture had gone viral overnight, his account exploding with thousands of new followers. It overshadowed all his other posts.

Best of all though? Shouta had liked it.

He would later apologize many times to his landlord for breaking the window with his resulting squeal.

oOoOo

The fourth indication something might be off was tax season.

“I hate tax season,” Shouta said flatly when he showed up to his apartment for a romantic dinner. “I want to never see a tax form again.”

“Huh, doesn’t UA have fancy accountants to handle that?” Hizashi asked, genuinely surprised.

“Our accountants are busy handling all the finances involved in the constant reconstruction around the training grounds.” Pause. “And also replacing all the robots destroyed in training.” Pause. “And furniture destroyed in the dorms.” Pause. “And all the explosions from the Support Department. Apparently there’s been more than usual this year.”

“Yeah, they sound busy,” Hizashi agreed with a frown. “Well, if they’re that bad, you can leave it here!”

“You’d do my taxes?” Shouta snorted, but Hizashi shook his head.

“Not me. I hate doing them probably even more than you, yo!”

“Ah. So, you hire an accountant to do them? Wouldn’t it cost extra to hire them to do mine too?”

“Nah, no need! Sprinkles takes care of it.” That made Shouta pause, turning to look at him with the most adorable wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“Sprinkles...?” he repeated slowly, and Hizashi bobbed his head with a grin.

“Yep! She’s great at it! I’m sure she’d be willing to handle yours too.”

“Sprinkles,” Shouta repeated, again, still looking so adorably confused. “Sprinkles does your taxes.”

“Uh-huh! She’s doing them right now!” He gestured behind them, and Shouta twisted around on the couch to look. On the floor next to the wall sat Sprinkles, a bunch of papers spread around her paws and a gray blazer draped over her back.

“...Hizashi,” he said after a moment. “Does Sprinkles actually do taxes?”

“Yeah! She’s got a degree in it, see?” Hizashi pointed to the wall, proudly beaming as Shouta stared at all the framed diplomas and degrees hanging there bearing her name. Sprinkles was such a smart kitty!

“...Hizashi,” Shouta said after a long moment. “When, and where, did Sprinkles get degrees?”

Hizashi opened his mouth to answer but paused as the question registered. “I... don’t know,” he said, his own eyebrows furrowing. “She just... does?” He frowned slightly as he watched Sprinkles meow at one of the many forms, lightly pushing it around with her paw.

oOoOo

The biggest sign that made him think something was going on though, was probably when he went to the basement.

“Where is that kitty?” he muttered worriedly as he walked down the long, winding hallway, only the torches on the walls lighting his way. Sprinkles had pulled a disappearing act, common for most cats but not for Sprinkles. It had sparked concerns she might have been kidnapped by one of her thousands of Tumblr followers, sending him into a panic. He’d practically torn his apartment apart looking for Sprinkles before finally opening the heavy wooden door to descend the stairs.

He shivered as he looked at the cold stone walls, the torches’ fire doing nothing to help warm the space. The basement was just so dank and cold, and the thought of her being down here made his heart pang with concern. The basement was no place for a cute, fluffy cat like Sprinkles!

...Actually, come to think of it, since when did he have a basement? He’s pretty sure the lease only mentioned the apartment. And on that note, why was the door hidden in the back of his closet behind a poster?

He could worry about it later though. Right now he needed to find Sprinkles. He could see faint, flickering light at the end of the hall, signaling a doorway into a room. Hizashi perked up and picked up his pace a bit, eager to finally reach the end. He really hoped Sprinkles was there, he’d been walking down this hall for ten minutes now!

As he got closer the lights grew brighter, as did the faint smell of smoke, vanilla and rotten eggs. His nose wrinkled a little bit at the last one, but he pushed forward. “Sprinkles?” he called almost tentatively as he reached the doorway, and stopped.

Several people in soft-looking sweaters sat huddled on the floor around a pentagram, turning to look at him almost as one. Vanilla-scented candles littered the floor, casting flickering glows all over the cat towers, toy mice and sporadic assortments of human bones on the floor. It left most of the room dark, but he could see another person by the back wall holding an axe as they stood before a woman strapped to a torture rack.

Hizashi stared, his eyes slowly roving over the people crowded around the pentagram, over the pictures of Sprinkles printed on their shirts. Over the woman strapped to a torture rack in a shadowy corner with another woman holding an axe. To the large poster of Sprinkles’s face on the other back corner, partially lit by a wide beam of light from some unknown source. To the poster next to it, even more clearly illuminated with the title “WORDS OF OUR SAVIOR” and a paw and hand print.

BE SMART

BE LOVING

BE BABY

BE SPRINKLES

Hizashi stared, just absorbing it all. And, slowly, his eyes returned to the center of the room.

To Sprinkles, in the center of it all, in her adorable little wizard costume in the middle of a pentagram.

“Wha...?” Before he could do anything the people surged forward, lunging and tackling him to the ground. Hands pinned his limbs and he opened his mouth to scream but someone shoved a toy mouse in his mouth, effectively gagging him. The hands pinning him quickly pulled him up as the cultists tied him up with a ball of yarn, wrapping it around him several times to pin his arms to his sides.

As they dragged him into the room he spit out the mouse, coughing and hacking. “Hey, what—oh my gosh, ew, my tongue feels nasty! Can someone get me water or something? Please?” His cries went ignored, dragged to a cage in a different shadowy corner and shoved inside. Hizashi grunted as he hit the bars, scrambling to sit up as the door slammed. “Hey—”

“All hail Sprinkles,” the cult chanted monotonously, and returned to their original positions. Sprinkles just blinked at him, her eyes looking extra sparkly in the candelight, and mewed. Hizashi’s line of sight was broken though, someone stepping in front of the cage.

“What’s going—SHOUTA!?” His voice rose to a startled squeak as he recognized his boyfriend crouched in front of him, beautiful messy black hair and scruff and everything. He wore a purple sweatshirt—surprisingly vibrant for the man—with the picture of Sprinkles and the words “SPRINKLES CULT PRESIDENT” printed above it.

For a moment they just stared at each other, neither of them speaking.

“All hail Sprinkles,” Shouta said, and gave a thumbs up with a tiny little smile with his tongue sticking out.

At that moment Hizashi sat up in bed with a startled gasp, finding himself face to face with Sprinkles’s big, blinking eyes.

“Mew,” she meowed, and he melted with a smile, reaching out to hug her.

“Come here, you!” he chuckled, rubbing his cheek against her as she happily headbutted him. “I just had the craziest dream! There was a cult for you in our basement and everything, it was so weird!” Sprinkles just mewed, and he laughed. He paused then, sniffing. “Sprinkles, do you smell rotten eggs?”

Sprinkles mewed, and he shrugged it off. Eh, probably just his imagination.

oOoOo

The next morning inside the coffee shop he stared at Shouta’s shirt, bright eye-searing purple with Sprinkles emblazoned on it, and just slowly raised his eyes.

“Shouta?” he asked slowly. “Where did you get that shirt?”

“Dunno. I just woke up in it.”

“And you’re wearing it because...?”

“Didn’t feel like changing.” Shouta just calmly drank his coffee, ignoring Hizashi’s stare.

It occurred to Hizashi, then, that there were many things he didn’t know about Sprinkles. Like what she did while he was gone, or how she knew how to do taxes. Or why she appeared in his apartment the same day that someone broke into his house for the first time to leave a demonic pentagram carved into his floor, all the furniture around it lying on its backs or sides as if knocked over by a great force of wind.

........Eh, Sprinkles was too cute to be evil. He’d worry about it later.

oOoOo

Somewhere in Musutafu, a sparkly-eyed cat in a wizard costume sat next to a phone open to Tumblr, blinking down at the screen. The follower count slowly ticked upwards, and with it so did the power accumulating in her body, steadily feeding off the adoration of her fans.

She blinked, eyes sparkling just a bit brighter.

“Mew.”

ALL HAIL SPRINKLES

#sprinkles #yamada hizashi #corndog-patrol #all hail sprinkles #sprinkles cult #My writing #erasermic #present mic #this is unedited and long so it's probably rough #you have been warned

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 5 years

Text

2010s Art: Music, Games, and TV

So I love all forms of art. It may not seem like it since I tend to stick mainly to movies, with the odd cartoon or video game thrown in, but that’s really because movies are more my thing due to not being massive time investments. Like, don’t get me wrong, I gamed, I watched TV, I listened to music, but it was a lot more casual than my deep dive into becoming a major cinephile.

With games and TV, it was mostly issues of money and time respectively. I have a few consoles, mostly Nintendo and Sony ones, and my wife helped me experience Xbox games, but I just don’t have the money needed to experience every good game that comes out. With TV, the time investment is the biggest roadblock, especially when all the best shows have hour-long episodes these days. With movies, I just have to spend 90 minutes to two hours on average; for TV, it’s countless hours I could be watching movies. As for music… well, I listened to a lot, I just don’t feel totally qualified to properly rank and list songs and albums.

So instead of the big decade-spanning list for movies that I’m doing, I’m going to go over some things I enjoyed from the past decade and maybe a few things I didn’t in music, TV, and video games. Here’s a little guide so you know what stuff is something I consider one of my absolute favorites in any given medium - if it’s from this decade, it will be in bold, and if it’s from a previous decade but I experienced it this decade, it will be underlined.

Television

I figured I’d get this out of the way first since it’s the medium I have the least experience with. Let me put it this way: I have seen only one season of Game of Thrones, the first one (and by all accounts I dodged a bullet by dropping that show). I also had the misfortune of jumping in to The Walking Dead right as it was gearing up for its abysmal second season, which turned me off that and led to me only watching an episode here or there.

I had better luck watching live action shows on streaming. I managed to get through almost all of Pretty Little Liars on Netflix, which was a chore in and of itself; it’s a good show, but boy could it ever get arbitrary and frustrating. Speaking of Netflix, I think it goes without saying that Stranger Things is their best effort; from the likable cast of kids to the awesome soundtrack, even though it never really surpasses season one the show always has something cool going on in one of its plots. My other favorite from Netflix would probably be their take on A Series if Unfortunate Events, which is how you do adaptation expansion right; everything they add feels like it’s in service of fleshing out Lemony Snicket’s dismal world, as well as giving Patrick Warburton an incredible dramatic role as the Lemony narrator himself.

Amazon managed to score two hits in my book. The first is the unbelievably fun and charming Good Omens, a miniseries that somehow got me to love David Tennant and Michael Sheen more than I already did. The second was the gory joyride that is The Boys which while not the smartest or most original superhero satire is definitely the most fun.

While I didn’t watch the whole show and would not consider it one of my favorites, I do want to give props to Hannibal for introducing me to Mads Mikkelsen. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the only person aside from Hopkins worthy of playing everyone’s favorite cannibal. Another show I DO consider a favorite despite slacking on keeping up with it is Ash vs. Evil Dead; I only needed to see a single season of Bruce back with the boomstick to know this show was a masterpiece.

On the animated side I have much more to talk about. Not since the 90s have we been spoiled with so many genuinely great and varied cartoons. We got Adventure Time, Regular Show, Steven Universe… really, Cartoon Network raised the bar this decade and made up for an awful 2000s. They even finally gave Samurai Jack a conclusion, which despite the mixed results, was still a real exciting phenomenon to experience.

Of course, my favorite CN show came from Adult Swim. I am of course referring to Rick & Morty, a fun sci-fi adventure comedy that attracted the most obnoxious fanbase possible in record time. While certainly not a show you need a high IQ to understand and having an atrocious third season, it still manages to be funny and thought provoking in equal amounts. Seriously though. Fuck season 3.

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is another great show that I sadly fell off the wagon of around the fifth or sixth season. It never got bad of course but it never really engaged me like the older episodes, though what I’ve heard of the last season makes me wish I’d kept up with it. It was a great show with a lot of heart and character, and I’m not sure we’ll ever see a show like it again.

Netflix did not slack in the animation department; I didn’t catch their most famous show (it’s the one about a certain Horseman) but I did catch their fantastic take on Castlevania, which as a huge fan of the series was a real treat. Where the fuck is Grant though?

My two favorite shows of the decade, however, are what I see as the pinnacle of East and West: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure and Gravity Falls.

JJBA is a series I had vague passing knowledge of, only knowing its existence due to seeing Stone Ocean referenced on the Wikipedia page for air rods when I was younger and, of course, the memes that spawned from Heritage for the Future, which were inescapable back in the day. As soon as I got into the series, it became one of my biggest inspirations, teaching me you can be deep, complex, and filled with great character interactions while also being so batshit insane that every new and absurd power is incredibly easy to buy (looking forward to the rainbows that turn people into snails, animators). They managed to get through the first four parts and start up the fifth over the decade; so far my favorite part is four, mainly due to the magnificent bastard that is Yoshikage Kira (played time perfection by D.C. Douglas) and in spite of serial creep Vic Mangina playing the otherwise lovable asshole Rohan Kishibe.

Gravity Falls on the other hand is just a fun and engaging mystery show that manages to excel at being episodic and story-driven all at once. There’s only one or two “bad” episodes across two seasons, and it lasted just as long as it needed to, wrapping things up with a satisfactory ending that still gave fans a few mysteries to chew on. It also gave us Grunkle Stan, perhaps the greatest character in all of animation, the pinnacle of “jerk with a heart of gold” characters who is hilarious, badass, and complex all at once. This is my favorite western animated show…

...but then the last year of the decade threw a curveball and, if I’m being honest, is on par with Gravity Falls: Green Eggs and Ham. Netflix really wanted us to know 2D animation is back in 2019; between this show and Klaus, the future is looking bright for the medium. It’s a fun, funny roadtrip comedy that knows when to be emotional and when to be funny, and it’s all filtered through the wubbulous world of Dr. Seuss. It’s just a wonderfully delightful show.

And on the subject of JoJo, I had a kind of love-hate relationship with anime this decade. The attitudes of anime fans turned me off from anime for a long while. Sure, I checked out stuff like Attack on Titan and Sword Art Online, but neither series really clicked with me. The main anime I loved this decade were ones that started in the 2000s and ended in the 2010s, like Dragon Ball Z Kai and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. I suppose I did enjoy My Hero Academia, which is a really fun show with an awesome and varied cast and great voice acting. Love Froppy, best girl for sure.

One of the most unfortunate things about this decade was how many great shows got screwed over by their networks. Sym-Bionic Titan, Thundercats, and The Legend of Korra were all great shows in their own right but were treated like shit by their respective networks. It really makes me upset that stuff like that not only happened, but continues to happen to this day.

But let’s not end on a bad note; let’s talk about the astounding returns old shows got. Invader Zim got a movie as did Hey Arnold, with the latter in particular finally wrapping up the dangling plot threads, but those are actual TV movies so they don’t really fit here; what DOES fit is Static Cling, the triumphant return of Rocko’s Modern Life. A forty minute special, it follows Rocko and his friends as they navigate the modern age, trying to bring back Rocko’s favorite cartoon. Rachel Bighead’s arc in this in particular is pretty groundbreaking and awesome.

Also awesome was the first few episodes of Samurai Jack’s return, though it did end up petering out halfway through the season and ended on an anticlimactic note. Still, Tom Kenny’s Scaramouche, the sheer amount of continuity, and the awesome final curbstomp battle against Aku are worth giving this a watch. And if nothing else, stuff like this gives me hope for future revivals. What will we see next? Gargoyles comeback? Batman Beyond continuation? KENNY AND THE CHIMP REVIVAL?! Chimpers rise up!

Music

Much like everyone, I listened to a lot of music this decade. There was a lot of shit, and I definitely used to be one of those “wow no one makes good music anymore” morons, but I grew out of that and learned to look in the right places.

Let’s start with the albums I loved the most. Continuing her meteoric rise from the 2000s, Lady Gaga drooped her magnum opus, Born This Way, an album that successfully showcases her skills as she takes on numerous pop styles. No two songs sound the same, and with a couple of exceptions every song slaps. While we’re on the subject of pop stars, Gaga’s contemporary and lesser Katy Perry managed to hit a home run with the fun bit of pop fluff that was Teenage Dream.

Weird Al was sorely missed for most of the decade, but what albums he did drop featured some of his best work. While Alpocalypse doesn’t hold up quite so well, it’s still solid, but even then it is blown out of the water by Mandatory Fun, an album that just refuses to stop being funny from start to finish. And that’s not the only funny albums this decade; aside from artists I’ll get more into later, George Miller AKA Filthy Frank released Pink Season as one of his last great acts as his character of Pink Guy. The album is as raunchy and filthy as you’d expect. And then for unintentional comedy, Corey Feldman dropped Angelic 2 The Core, an album so musically inept that it ends up becoming endearing; it’s The Room of music.

As I gamed a lot this decade I got to experience a lot of great video game soundtracks, but the two I found to be the absolute best were Undertale and Metal Gear Rising’s. I couldn’t tell you which soundtrack is better, and I’ve actually made a playlist on my iPod containing my favorite tracks from both games. Pokemon had solid soundtracks all decade, but they definitely were better in single tracks such as Ultra Necrozma’s theme from USUM and Zinnia’s theme from ORAS.

And speaking of individual songs, there were a lot I really loved. The disco revival in the easel ide half of the decade lead to gems like “Get Lucky,” “Uptown Funk,” and… uh, “Blurred Lines.” The controversy to that one might be overblown, but it sure isn’t anything I really want to revisit.

Corey Feldman may be the king of unintentional comedy, but this decade was seriously ripe with so bad it’s good music. The crown jewel is without a doubt the giddy, goofy “Friday,” but I think the equally stupid but also endlessly more relatable Ark Music production “Chinese Food” is worth some ironic enjoyment as well.

Meme songs in general were pretty enjoyable, though it came at a price. Remember when everyone tried to be funny by ripping off “Gangnam Style?” Remember when people took that Ylvis song at face value? Irony and satire were lost on the masses. I think the best mene song of the decade, though, is “Crab Rave,” a bouncy instrumental dance track with a fun music video and an absurd yet hilarious meme tacked to it. And then we have “The Internet is for Music,” a gargantuan 30 minute mashup featuring every YTMND, 4chan, Newgrounds, and YouTube meme you could think of (at the time of its release anyway),

Then we get into artists. Comedy music was great this decade, with Steel Panther and The Lonely Island putting out great work all decade, but by far my favorite funny band is Ninja Sex Party. Dan “Danny Sexbang” Avidan and Brian “Ninja Brian” Wecht are pretty much my favorite entertainers at this point, with them easily being able to go from doing goofy yet epic songs where they fuck or party to doing serious and awesome cover albums where Dan flexes his impressive vocals. A big plus is how all of their albums are easily some of my favorites ever, with not a single bad CD, and that’s not even getting into their side project Starbomb. These guys are a treasure.

Then we have Ghost, a Swedish metal band who play up the Satanic panic for all it’s worth. These guys captured my interest when I heard the beautiful “Cirice” on the radio, and despite that song rocking the fuck out, Imagine my surprise when it ended up being only middle of the road awesome for this band! With killer original songs like “Rats,” “Mary in the Cross,” and “Square Hammer” to a awesome covers like “Missionary Man” and “I’m a Marionette,” it’s almost enough to get a guy to hail Satan. I think they appeal to me mainly because they have a style very in line with the 80s, most evident on tracks like “Rats.”

While I’d hesitate to call him one of my favorite musicians yet (he is really good so far though), one of my favorite people in entertainment is Lil Nas X. From his short but sweet songs that crush genre boundaries to his hilarious Twitter feed, this guy is going places and I can’t wait to see what those places are.

And finally, the guy I think may be one of the greatest creative geniuses alive and who has nearly singlehandedly shaped Internet culture with everything he does… Neil Cicierega. While it’s not like I only discovered him in the 2010s - the guy has been an omnipresent force in my life since Potter Pupper Pals debuted - he definitely became the guy I would unflinchingly call the greatest artist of our time over that period. Whether he’s releasing the songs under his own name or as Lemon Demon, you can always be sure that the songs are going to burrow into your brain. His Lemon Demon album Spirit Phone, which features songs about urban legends and the horrors of capitalism, is easily my pick for album of the decade. And then under his own name he released three mashup mixtapes: Mouth Sounds, Mouth Silence, and Mouth Moods. All three are stellar albums, but only Mouth Moods has “Wow Wow,” the bouncing track about homoerotic bee-loving Will Smith and outtakes so good they deserve to be on the next album.

Video Games

Having a PC this decade was great because it let me experience a lot of games I probably wouldn’t have otherwise, like Half-Life, BioShock, Earthnound, Mother 3, and Final Fantasy VI and VII. All of these and more are among my favorite games of all time now, but we’re here to talk about the stuff from this decade I consider great.

It’s hard to talk about this decade in gaming without mentioning Skyrim. Yes, it has flaws and the main storyline is a bit undercooked, but there’s so much fun to be had dicking about in the wilderness it’s hard to be too mad. And if you have mods, there are endless opportunities to expand the game. The same is true for the other game I have sunk countless hours into, The Binding of Isaac: Rebirth. Not only is there a thriving modding community, but it has been supported and encouraged by the creators and some mods have even made the leap into becoming fully canon! It’s always a blast to revisit and see how far I can break the game with item combos.

Surprisingly, Batman managed to get not one, not two, but THREE awesome licensed games this decade! Arkham Asylum, Arkham City, and the unfairly maligned Arkham Origins all kick as much ass as the Dark Knight himself. The former two reunite Mark Hamill and Kevin McConroy as Joker and Batman while the latter features numerous stellar boss battles. The combat in these games is so graceful and fluid, you WILL feel like Batman at some point, be it after flawlessly clobbering two dozen mooks or silently eliminating a room of thugs before they even realize you’re there.

Pokémon had a bit of a rocky decade; it started out strong with the fifth generation, the best games in the series with a great story, region, and sidequests and then just went downhill from there. Not incredibly so, of course - the games were always fun at least - but gens VI through VIII were not the most graceful steps into 3D. Still, every gen managed to produce some of my all-time favorite Pokémon. Gen V had Volcarona, Chandelure, and Meloetta; Gen VI gave us Hoopa, Klefki, the Fairy type in general, and a gorgeous mega evolution for my favorite Pokémon, Absol; Gen VII had the Ultra Beasts and Ultra Necrozma, some of the coolest concepts in the series, as well as Pyukumuku; and Gen VIII gave us Cinderace, Dracovish, Dracozolt, Polteageist, Hatterene, Snom, and Zacian. And those are just samplings mind you, these gens are full of hits.

Bringing back old franchises yielded amazing results. Look no further than the triumphant return of Doom in 2016, which had you ripping and tearing through the forces of Hell with guns, chainsaws, and your bear fucking hands. This game is HARDCORE. Less bloody and gory but no less awesome was the return of not just Crash Bandicoot, but Spyro as well in remakes that are easily the definitive ways to experience the games. And don’t even get me started on the remastered DuckTales!

Platinum games did not fuck around this decade, delivering Bayonetta 2 and Metal Gear Rising. The former is a balls-to-the-wall sequel to the amazing original Bayonetta that, while lacking in bosses quite as impressive as the first game’s, is more polished and has a fun story and a better haircut for Bayonetta; the latter is an action game so insane it makes the rest of the Metal Gear franchise look tame in comparison. The latter in particular is in my top ten games ever, with every boss battle feeling epic, all the music kicking ass, and Raiden truly coming into his own as a badass.

Speaking of Metal Gear, the divisive The Phantom Pain easily earns its place here. While much fuss has been made about the game being “unfinished,” it still has a complete and satisfying ending even if it doesn’t totally wrap up the dangling plot threads the young Liquid Snake leaves behind. The overarching themes as well as Venom and his relationship with characters like Kaz, Paz, and ESPECIALLY Quiet make this game, with his and Quiet’s being particularly beautiful and tragic. The Paz quest, Quiet’s exit, and the mission where Snake has to put down his men after they get infested with parasites are all some of the most heartbreaking moments in the franchise. But it’s not all tears; there’s plenty of fun to be had harassing Russians in Afghanistan while blaring 80s synth pop from your Walkman. Oh yeah, and fuck Huey.

The Ace Attorney series also thrived, with both Spirit of Justice and Dual Destinies transitioning the series into 3D a lot more graceful than some other franchises while still maintaining the with and charm the series is known for. And if that wasn’t enough for my point-and-cluck adventure needs, Telltale had me covered with The Wolf Among Us and the first season of The Walking Dead. The stories and characters of those games are so good, it’s enough to make you sad they never got a timely sequel or sequels that weren’t shit respectively.

This decade is when I really got into fighting game, though I’m not particularly good. I supported Skullgirls (and am even in the credits!), and got into Ultimate Marvel vs. Capcom 3 and JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: All-Star Battle (and I also got into its spiritual predecessor, Heritage for the Future). But by and large my favorite fighting game of the decade and the one I’m actually pretty good at is Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, the most ridiculously ambitious crossover in video game history. The fact that the game is STILL getting more characters added is a testament of how insanely great the game is because instead of being mad that there’s so much DLC, people are going rabid waiting for news of more. It’s such an awesome, complete game out the door that the DLC feels earned rather than half a game being held hostage. Other devs, take note!

A lot of franchises put their best foot forward for sequels. God of War III was an awesomely bloody finale to the original journey of Kratos, with more epic bosses than ever; now he’s off fighting Norse gods, and I hear that game is even better! Portal 2 is just an absolute blast, and easily surpasses the first game on the merit of having Cave Johnson alone; the fact we get Wheatley and the malfunctioning personality cores honestly feels like overkill. Then we have BioShock… 2. While it’s certainly not as good as the first game, I think it was a lot of fun, and it got way too much flak.

I think it definitely aged better than Infinite which, while still a good game in its own right (it’s hard to hate a game with a character as endearing as Elizabeth), definitely was not warranting the levels of acclaim it got with such a muddled narrative. “Overrated” and “overhyped” are not words I keep in my vocabulary and I certainly would not describe Infinite as such, but I do feel like people got swept up in the gorgeous visuals and the story bits and characters that are effective and so weren’t nearly as critical of its flaws. It’s still a good, fun game with an interesting world, but it pales in comparison to the other two BioShocks. I feel like The Last of Us is in a similar boat. That being said, I couldn’t tell you why; it has a great story, good characters, plenty of replayability, and fascinating enemy design. But despite all that, I appreciate this game more than love it. It’s the Citizen Kane of video game sin that regard at least.

I’d be remiss to not mention the big indie successes of the decade. Shovel Knight is easily one is the greatest platform era ever made, taking everything great about the platformers on the NES and SNES, removing the bullshit, and delivering numerous bonus campaigns with unique playstyles. Then there was Abobo’s Big Adventure, a marvelous mashup of all sorts of games starring the beloved Double Dragon mook as he goes on a bloody quest to save his son. It’s a blast and there is tons of variety but some sections are definitely as hair-pullingly difficult as the games that inspired them. And then there is Doki Doki Literature Club, the free visual novel that brutally subverts your expectations. Sadly, I do feel the game loses some impact on subsequent playthroughs, but it’s still a great, effective story that skillfully utilizes meta elements.

Still, the greatest indie success of them all is Toby Fox’s masterpiece, Undertale. Charming, funny, emotional, and populated by a cast of some of the most fun and lovable characters ever conceived, this game was an instant smash and is still talked about to this day. Sure, things like Sans have been memed to death, but it’s hard to not just love and cherish the beautiful world Toby Fox managed to create. This game may not be the greatest game of all time, but for what it is I wouldn’t hesitate to name it the game of the decade.

There was a lot of great art in the 2010s, and while I couldn’t get around to all of it, I’m so happy with what I got to experience. Here’s hoping that the 2020s can be just as amazing!

#Music #video games #TV

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years

Text

Turn ‘Em Out

A/N: Soooo. I recently posted a list of questions for you to pose to my characters. (I got so many good ones! I’ve worked through about half of them but I have a few more to get to and you know me, I tend to ramble.) Well there was one in particular that I truly hoped someone would ask when I posted that list, and was strongly considering writing the answer to it regardless...but then it DID get asked! And I was pumped! But then I started writing it and...well...it got LONG. And it came with a slew of other asks, so I decided that it was best to answer this particular one separately, and I’ll finish the rest that came in that batch next. Anyways. How’s that for rambling, huh?

Prompt: @something-tofightfor asked What’s in Ryan’s pockets?

Word Count: 2,667

Ryan’s got a lot of pockets, which is great because there are a lot of things that he needs and space in his pack and guitar case is limited. He can literally only take with him what he can carry, and he can’t carry too much because he needs to be able to quickly get on and off the trains, so he can’t be too weighed down. This means that every single thing that Ryan Brenner has in his pockets is absolutely essential.

Let’s start with what he’s got in his jeans. While he’s out and about, his wallet is in his right back pocket. There’s an outline of distinct wear and tear in the shape of the thin, brown leather billfold where he keeps the cash he makes from busking, two pictures, and his driver’s license. Currently, on your floor, he’s got about $168 in cash, most of it made that very day on the 16th Street Mall. The two pictures both have curled, torn edges, the older of the two has a thick crease down the middle from where it had been folded when it lived in a different wallet with a smaller pocket. The older photo was of Ryan with his cousins on the beach from the time he got too drunk and fell asleep without sunscreen. He and Taylor, both red as a radish, were in the center wearing grimaces to go with their burns, surrounded by Patrick, Fitz, Zach, Jimmy and Tommy with wide, goofy, drunken summer grins on their faces. The second photo was from his first year on the rails, out in Oregon with the group of friends he shared his first tattoo with. Oz, Robin, Louie, Nikki, Georgie, Cowboy and Kissie with Ryan mid step to get back into the frame before the timer on the camera went off. The crew was camped out by the bay, two tents that belonged to Oz and Nikki popped up behind the group with a makeshift clothesline and a rock ringed fire pit visible to the left. Cowboy, Robin and Georgie all wore frozen laughs, Ryan’s mouth quirked to the side and his eyes narrowed in a comeback to whatever smart ass comment Oz had just made. Both of them reminded him that he had his tribe of people scattered across the country and back home in Georgia, and he’d pull them out on cold, lonely nights on the train or sleeping in a park, and looking at them would always make him feel less alone. He could almost hear their laughter and feel their embrace, and when the hour was appropriate the next day, he’d give someone a call just to fill his ear with a familiar voice.

His driver’s license was issued in Montana about four years ago. At that point he still had about a year on his Georgia license before it would need to be renewed, but he didn’t want to limit himself and have to go back if that’s not where the road was taking him. He’d be back soon enough for another cousin reunion, and he didn’t want there to be a lapse in valid I.D.s. They were hard enough for him to get when they weren’t expired; without a permanent address, the amount of paperwork you need to bring to the DMV is astounding. So since he had planned to spend a whopping 4 weeks in Livingston, MT to help Georgie’s uncle’s friend repair fences and patch the roof of the barn after a particularly harsh hail season (the price was RIGHT so even though it meant sticking in one spot for much longer than he was used to, Ryan couldn’t pass it up) he decided that it was as good a time as any to get a new license since Byron, the owner of the ranch and the man who was putting him, Cowboy, Virginia and Georgie up in the guesthouse, had allowed Ryan to use his address to have some mail forwarded, so voila! A “permanent” Montana residence. Montana licenses are good for eight years, too, so he’s still got a while before he needs to decide where to renew.

Ryan’s back left pocket held a pair of thick wool gloves, palms tucked in and fingers waving free. They’d been a Christmas gift from Cowboy and Virginia (Ryan knew it was really Ginny who’d chosen the gloves with him in mind.) and they saved him from frostbite on plenty of occasions. They were bulky with insulated lining sand reinforced deerskin palms, and when his hands had all but cracked and bled from playing for hours in winter weather, they were a welcome reprieve. He couldn’t wear them getting on or off the trains, because the knit stitching was liable to snag on some part of the car. Ryan has heard his share of stories about what can happen when your clothes get caught in a chain or a rough, weathered edge of the steel, so he slips them off right before hopping and shoves them in his pocket. (He’s got a pair of canvas work gloves, too, but they’re inside the main part of his pack with his clothes. Those are for odd jobs and things that crop up along the way)

Ryan’s knife is in his front right pocket. It’s small, with a carved wooden handle. It’s old. Older than Ryan. It belonged to his grandfather and His aunt (Patrick’s mom) gave it to him when he was home around his 22nd birthday. It wasn’t a secret that Ryan was granddaddy’s favorite; he saw the same spark of mischief and excitement for life that he had as a younger man. Some of Ryan’s favorite memories from his childhood are of summer afternoons, when the sun was too hot to be out for too long and he and his cousins would be forced to find shade for an hour or two, and he’d sit on the porch next to his grandfather as he whittled whistles and figurines. He’d pile up the curled shavings, wrapping them around his fingers as he watched forms of bears and birds appear out of solid blocks of wood. Once he asked him if he could teach him how to carve.

Granddaddy laughed and ruffled Ryan’s mop of soft brown locks, lightened from the summer sun. “When yer older, Ry’n. You’ll chop yer fingers clean off, I teach ya now.”

Ryan never got to learn. The time was never right before he left, and there never seemed to be enough when he was home, and then time ran out and Ryan was left with one of the biggest regrets that he’ll carry; that he didn’t make the time. So when his aunt gave him the knife when he was home around his 22nd birthday, Ryan’s eyes went wide before blinking fat tears from the corners, and the knife instantly became his most prized possession. He still doesn’t know how to carve, but he uses it almost every day.

His left front pocket is for random extra necessities, which vary by season. In the winter there might be a few hand warmer packets, cough drops or some kind of hard candy, maybe some tissues or a handful of paper napkins.

The heavy canvas coat he wore held some of the most vital items as those pockets closed with zippers or buttons. The inner breast pocket housed his black plastic flip phone, the charger cable wound around it. It was by far the most important item he carried in terms of survival. The ability to call for help should he need it was crucial, making the charger cable just as important as the phone itself. It was also his link to the people that mattered most to him, his way to let them all know that he was okay, a way for them to do the same. Radio silence from time to time was normal, but contact through the network every few weeks or so put everyone’s hearts at ease. Right now, around your third or fourth song on your floor in front of the fireplace, Ryan’s wondering if you’ll be added to that network… wondering if you want to add him to yours.

The lower inside pocket is larger, so it can hold a few of the bulkier things that he carries. There’s a keychain sized flashlight that may have been attached to an actual keychain at one point. Ryan’s not even sure where it came from, but it has come in handy on more than one cloudy night when he couldn’t rely on the moon or stars for visual assistance. A standard Bic lighter (currently a plain red one) and a book of matches from a motel he’d stayed in with Georgie and some of his new friends down in Jackson, MS a few months back. He had about twelve matchbooks in a plastic zipper bag in his pack, habitually taking them anytime they were offered- motels, diners, truckstops. Plenty of smoke shops that he’d stopped in offered a free book with a pack of papers. Being able to start a fire for cooking or warmth was crucial, and having fire to light an expertly rolled smoke was a bonus. There was also always a length of twine, coiled and tied off to avoid tangling into a knot. It was useful in dozens of ways, some of the most used being as additions to fire starters, makeshift clotheslines, and replacement shoelaces. Loose or untied shoes due to a broken lace are unacceptable for a number of reasons, but all purpose twine works as a stop gap until he can get new laces. Whenever he gets close to running out, Ryan visits a local hardware shop and restocks.

There’s one more inner pocket on the opposite side. It’s small but it only has very small items in it, and they almost never leave their place so it works just fine. Ryan’s not a superstitious man, but he’s not about to turn down good luck, so this pocket serves as a tiny treasure trove of things he’d acquired over the years that have supposedly been partially to blame for his continued good fortune: a lucky penny Taylor had given him before he left the very first time. She was only 14 then, but she swore that penny was with her on “the best days of her life” and she wanted Ryan to have it so only good things would come to him on his travels. She probably doesn’t remember it anymore, but Ryan’s kept it the entire time. Tucked in with the penny is the first guitar pick he’d ever used, his own little charm that he wasn’t sure was lucky per say, but that he couldn’t seem to part with. There was a four leafed clover that Robin had sent him from somewhere outside Seattle along with a postcard. (When he’d make it back to Georgia, usually every three years or so, he’d always have a small bundle of letters and postcards from his road family. Maybe someone spent a week longer than planned in a city that they fell in love with and they wanted to share the recommendation. Maybe someone saw something or heard something or felt something that reminded them of him. Maybe someone just missed him and wanted to write it down. Ryan tried to scribble notes now and then, too.)

The last item in that pocket was a flint arrowhead that he’d been given as a gift a few summers ago. He’d been staying in Kentucky for about a week or so with Cowboy and his cousin Nate, and Nate’s ex wife had unexpectedly dropped their son Julian off about two days in to Ryan and Cowboy’s stay. Aat first Ryan’s inclination was that he and Cowboy should hit the road and change their plans, maybe head on up to Ohio or Pennsylvania for a stretch, but Nate insisted that they stay. Julian was 9 but had the attitude of a 19 year old, and Ryan couldn’t really blame the kid from what he’d seen of his parents. (He was grateful to Nate for letting him have a place to crash, a shower, somewhere to cook and rest up. But it was clear from the way that he and Maya, Julian’s mom, screamed at each other, neither of them were mature enough to raise a well adjusted kid.) By the third day, Julian was bored as all hell, and Nate had no real clue what to do with him. Ryan figured it wasn’t that hard, just offer to include him in what you’re doing and see if he bites. “Hey Julian, I’m headed into town to hit the hardware store. Need to get some twine. You wanna come?” “Hey, Julian, I’mma sit out back and play a little, maybe see some constellations if you wanna join.” “Julian, we’re goin’ fishin’ later, you in?” By the end of the stay, Julian’s mood had improved and Nate was left dumbfounded, asking Ryan if he had kids and how he knew how to get through to his son.

Ryan shrugged. “Just treat ‘em like people.”

Julian had found a handful of arrowheads on that fishing excursion after Ryan showed him what to look for and where he was most likely to find one (along the banks of the small river), and when he and Cowboy were getting ready to head out, Julian shoved one in Ryan’s hand with a nod of his prematurely serious head. If his granddaddy’s knife took the number one spot, and his guitar held number two, Julian’s arrowhead, Taylor’s penny, Robin’s clover and his pick collectively took the number three slot in the things that were most important to him. Ryan wasn’t superstitious. Not at all. But whether those items brought him luck or not, he wouldn’t be caught without them.

The two front pockets of his coat were usually empty unless his scarf was stuffed into one- depending on where he was, if the sun was high sometimes it was warm even in winter, and he’d find himself sweating in the thick, cable knit scarf. But in just an hour or so the weather could change drastically, so rolling it up and securing it away in his pack would be inconvenient if he’d be needing it again so soon. The old Carhartt’s front pockets were deep and wide and the entire scarf fit in one with no problem. The other would sometimes have a granola bar or a bag of nuts, something quick he’d picked up at a convenience store or gas station that he could munch on through the day, in between songs or while seated in the back of a pickup hitching from the train yard to wherever the next destination was.

It would be too much to get into every item in his pack, but the essentials in the top front pocket include a toothbrush and paste, small travel sized bottle of mouthwash, bar of soap stored in a seafoam green plastic clamshell holder, and a travel sized shampoo. In a separate zipper bag in that same portion is a small tube of sunscreen, one of moisturizers, a few band aids, some tape and an antiseptic cream for small burns, cuts and nicks. In another of the front pockets he keeps his leather bound notebook, two pencils and a pen, along with a small print out map that boasted stars and circles for all the places he’d traveled to- circles meaning he’d been there once, stars indicating multiple visits. His harmonica also had a home in that pouch for easy access on long quiet stretches of rail.

There wasn’t a stitch of extra space anywhere on him, but somehow Ryan always managed to fit anything and everything that he needed. He’d left things with people and gained new items along the way, but somehow the amount of space he had always accommodated exactly what he needed it to.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @songtoyou @traeumerinwitzhelden

apologies if you didn’t want to be tagged in this essay, i just went with the Passing Through taglist :)

#ryan brenner #jackie and ryan #what does ryan have in his pockets?#passing through #ryan brenner fanfic #ryan brenner story #character asks #thank you so much for caring about the contents of this musical angel's pockets #because i clearly had a lot to say about them

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butteredonions · 6 years

Note

Please tell me about Shiro's birthday camp-out! “Save the date,” from “Shiro thinks they’ve landed on this beautiful planet for reconnaissance” to “The look of utter peace and contentment on Shiro’s face makes sleeping on rocks and bugs absolutely worth it.” (Bonus points if you explain Coran's fascination with his weird kazoo-flute haha).

From Save The Date:

Shiro thinks they’ve landed on this beautiful planet for reconnaissance, traipsing through fields full of flowers as part of a mission Allura insists has to be done on foot. This time there’s no jumping out screaming surprise. Rather, when it’s 13:26 the team simply drops all their hiking materials, Hunk produces a slightly-squashed vanilla cake out of nowhere, and as Shiro’s jaw drops the team sings Happy Birthday, Put The Flute Away Coran loudly enough to scare the native birds out of the trees.

They celebrate when the beaming sun’s highest in the sky, chasing away all the clouds in brilliant, vibrant pinks. Shiro’s birthday is a day outside of the castle entirely, marked less with streamers and balloons but with swimming, laughing, hiking, and sleeping out of doors.

“That was fun,” Shiro says, as they camp out that evening by a fire. The Lions have moved their giant heads so the bright stars are perfectly visible. “But shouldn’t we get back?”

“Nope,” Hunk says, fiercely.

“We’re staying tomorrow too, Shiro,” Pidge says, yawning in her sleeping bag.

Keith pokes him until Shiro finds his voice again. “I -”

“You have two birthdays to catch up on, I believe,” Allura says, softly. “Let us give this to you.”

Shiro doesn’t cry, exactly. But he laughs harder when there’s a second cake the next day, and an even louder rendition of Happy Birthday, Coran Do You Have To, and the second night Hunk wakes up to Shiro sitting between his Lion’s paws as he stares up at the swirling stars.

The look of utter peace and contentment on Shiro’s face makes sleeping on rocks and bugs absolutely worth it.

Aww I forgot about that one! That was the first piece I ever did for a zine, so I really wanted to do something special for it. I was also hyper-aware of working underneath a word count, which is a challenge for me. Since the final piece had to be under 2000 words, I knew every word mattered twice as much as it might in an ordinary onion-piece. This could easily have been 4k or 5k. I almost think it’s sweeter for being short, though.

I knew right away that every Paladin was going to get a special birthday, and I knew they all had to be different and tailored to each Paladin specifically. Shiro’s birthday celebration was the first one that popped into my head, actually.

The rest of the piece can read fairly comedic; I wanted Shiro’s birthday to be a quieter moment, more introspective and peaceful. Really I just wanted to give him a break. This was back when all we had in canon was Season One; Shiro needed a rest then just as badly as he needs one now. The Paladins had the chance to not only give it to him but surprise him into taking it. I deliberately wanted them to be as gentle as possible with him, too. They don’t jump out at him and yell ‘surprise’ because Shiro doesn’t handle jump-scares well right now. They trick him into landing on the planet for ‘reconnaissance’ because Shiro would never willingly take a day off to go camping at this point in the series, let alone two days to make up for something so belated. I wanted to stress how well the team - and his friends - already know him here.

If anything, I love how much this fic is a coming-together of the Paladins as they start to grow into the camaraderie we know and love later in the series. It’s seen here in the perhaps trivial exploration of birthdays, but there’s a progression of how much the team is involved with each birthday that passes. It started as just Hunk’s idea, but by the time we get to Shiro’s birthday everyone’s in on it. Voltron’s solid team dynamics and ensemble-work is one of the things that lured me into this season from the get-go. I definitely wanted to highlight that here, too.

Coran’s fascination with his weird kazoo-flute started as a running gag, at first for the comic relief, but then I fell in love with it. In my mind there’s some kind of Altean history behind the weird-kazoo-flute - if not the flute itself, certainly the “traditional Altean day-of-birth song!” Coran mostly uses it for. I like to imagine the kazoo-flute is his instrument of choice; he picked it up during the Altean equivalent of primary school, much like in our elementary school when innocent third-graders get handed a recorder.....so there’s that slightly-nostalgic element to the kazoo-flute going on for Coran as well. After he heard the Paladins were celebrating birthdays, Coran went on a desperate hunt through the entire ship his quarters for something to play the Traditional Day-Of-Birth Song with. (The Good Luck and Blessings the song bestows don’t work if the song is played from a recording.) The kazoo-flute is what he found. It’s been many years since his primary-school days, though...but the Earthlings will never know if the kazoo-flute squawks a little where it shouldn’t ;) Allura might, but she’s so charmed to hear the sound again that you’ll never catch her complaining.

(Taking DVD commentary asks today!)

#voltron #shiro #coran #ask meme #save the date #thank you for the great ask!#the tldr: shiro is my favorite and so I wanted his birthday to be the most special it possibly could be #:')#of course much of the fic is debunked now that we actually know Paladin birthdays #but we didn't when it was posted #and I love it too much to go back in #long post #dvd commentary #velkynkarma #the onion answers

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thotyssey · 6 years

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On Point With: Cissy Walken

A rising star in the NYC drag scene, this vivacious queen sings, dances and makes us laugh. But pretty soon, she’ll be paying homage onstage to one of pop music’s most tragic figures. Thotyssey takes a hike with the fascinating Cissy Walken!

Thotyssey: Cissy, hello! Happy DragCon week! Will you be present at the Javits this weekend?

Cissy Walken: Hello hello! Yes, I will be! I’m working for Headcount.org on Saturday, getting people to register to vote and become more involved in their local elections.

OMG, you’re actually going to be doing something for the good of humanity and not just self-promoting! Have you found yourself being more politically aware / active in the past year, especially as a drag queen?

You know, yes and no. I think when I first started drag, I really wanted to be a political queen who cares about our dying planet. And I first started out with that focus at heart; it’s what made me create my Celine Dion mix. But recently, I think I’ve gotten really wrapped up in the throws of it all: make a mix, do shows, turn the party, get your coin. And while I love doing shows, I think its time to go back to Cissy The Politician.

Speaking of mixes, congrats on winning last week’s Open Call--the new weekly drag competition that Maddelynn Hatter hosts at the Ritz--with a particularly deft and funny one! You had live singing, lip sync, kooky choreo... and you totally dropped and smashed the mic, but you did it in a pretty seamless way and never stopped being entertaining while Maddelynn repaired it and handed it back to you!

Haha, oh yes! Thank you for that. I always try to remind myself to not drop the mic, but that night I didn't actively do that... which is why it probably fell. But the show must go on, and there was no way I was gonna stop the DJ. We drag performers work so hard to just get to that one moment in the night where we can perform, and I wasn't about to let a mishap ruin that for me. I'll always keep singing!

Rockstar! So, where’s your hometown... and were you always a performer of some sort?

I'm from a small town in the middle of New Jersey called Hillsborough. It's cute, but I had to get out. I didn't know it at the time, but I was really in search of a gay community that matches me.

And it was there that I first started performing. When I was 3, I gave my family Shania Twain shows off her Come On Over album. And then in middle school, when I made the decision that sports would never work for me, I tried out for the school play and got the bug!

Do you have a favorite musical?

West Side Story. It's the ultimate musical (sorry, R&H junkies).

How then did the drag bug bite you?

So I was a good kid, and didn't go to the bars until I was 21. I had just moved to Astoria, and my roommate started talking about Drag Race, and so we would watch a few episodes... and of course, Gay Gay Me gagged over it. But then I started looking for drag shows around me, and I saw this queen was having a show in my neighborhood. So I stumbled into this dive bar; I wasn't carded (which to me is like... well, damn, I could have done this sooner), and Sutton Lee Seymour began her show.

And as I watched her sing and tell jokes and stories, I started to realize, "Hey I can do this." As a young actor, I kept feeling like I never had the skill set needed to succeed in the business. And that was only partly true; I did get work, and I did a fair amount of shows for the amount of time I spent working. But I saw my potential in drag--I love music sung by women, I love clothing and costuming, and I love to create a rapport with my audience.

How did you begin performing as Cissy?

Well, first I went out in drag without performing, once. But I was like, "yeah, I might look beat, but I really want to get on that stage." I went to Look Queen one night because my bestie and I love to dance at the Monster, and did the thing. It wasn't great by any means, but totally a learning experience. And quickly, I started to hear from other girls that I should do this open stage and this contest. So I showed up. And when I didn't do well, all I could hear from more experienced queens was, “keep showing up.”

So for the first few months, I kept doing that until working three jobs and showing up to midnight contests got the best of me, and I revisited what was possible for me. But it was never a question as to whether performing was right for me. I just began to shape my life around my dreams as a performer instead of the other way around.

You remind me a little bit of Gilda Wabbit: you have similar looks, you're both singers and you both have this kind of feral energy... have you heard that comparison before?

All the time. It also didn't help that we were both Astoria girls at the same time. But whereas some girls would get threatened by someone similar looking with similar goals, she has always been kind and accepting towards me. She refers to me as "the dollar store Gilda Wabbit," which I hold close to my heart.

Ha! Well, you're definitely creating a different look for yourself. When I last saw you, you had a very exaggerated lip... and I understand that crazy nails are trademark of yours?

Well. I love nails but I don't wear them all the time for a couple reasons. If I have a reveal, then my talons don't work best for me because I'll lose them. The other reason is because most of my sets are all busted. But I'm not gonna throw out usable product, so I figure it out! Now as for my makeup, I definitely thought I painted my lips a little too big that night. But I've been pushing myself with my makeup to take risks and learn from them. And actually, since that night I've already learned new things about application and my own anatomy that are making my process easier with better results.

You recently competed in the first season of Iconic, a new drag competition that had several weekly preliminary rounds Icon. The competition seemed VERY challenging, I must say. How did you enjoy / survive the experience?

Well, I survived! It was very challenging, and I enjoyed the challenge overall... even if it has left me exhausted. There were moments from the show I really enjoyed, one specifically at the finale when the audience showed their love for a number about my Nonna.

Ultimately, I did have a lot on my plate this summer. What kept me sane during it all was knowing that no matter what I was doing at one show, I had something else going on at another show.

That is comforting! So where can we find you in the next few weeks, before the big show?

I'm back at The Ritz on Friday [for the paid booking at Open Call that was won last week]. And I'm with Heidi Haux at The Duplex on October 10. But really, I'm putting all my time on this [upcoming] show right now.

Let’s talk about this show! First of all, tell us about your relationship with Amy Winehouse's music. Were you always a fan?

I first got into her when she became a mega star from "Rehab." I remember coming home from school (before I did theater) and watching TRL. “Rehab” was the number 1 video for so long that by time they got to it, they would only play, like, 15 seconds of it because we all had heard it so much. I listened to her album, but didn't (and couldn't) understand it as a single, social, sober kid. And I think the community I came from pushed aside her work because of her drinking problems.

But I got back into her albums in college, after she died. And everything changed from there. The Lioness became the album I immediately associate with my first fall in New York. I would listen to her cover of "A Song For You" and had no idea WHAT those words were, but I still got every bit of the story. Here I am, this kid in a big city and her music spoke to the loneliness I felt.

youtube

So putting together a stage tribute to her must be a very cathartic and emotional process. How did the idea for Back to Life come about?

Well, it started with my original Amy number. I figured out a way to tell a story through her own music. And as I continued to dig into her own music, I saw how her experience informed the music, and her stories became so relatable to my own stories. So her music needs to keep being performed, so others who respond to it like I do have an outlet for it. Her story needs to be retold so that she doesn't rest as "The Addict" or her father's most cherished love... because her life and death were treated terribly. She needs to reign victorious, even if that's in her afterlife.

Well said! You will star in Back to Life at the Laurie Beechman Theatre on October 12th and November 9th. What can we expect from that show? Will you actually be playing Amy as you sing her songs?

You can expect that I will play Amy, but not for the entire show. We're working on mechanisms to help switch between Cissy and Amy, because I do want moments of third person narrative where I can relate her songs back to my own experience.

But I'll be singing everything! And I'll be doing the numbers I already do, plus a bunch of new ones. Which is pretty daunting to learn in such a short time, but such a great challenge and opportunity.

Sounds like we're in for a stellar showcase! Is there anything else that needs to be mentioned about it?

Something I need to say, just because this is my first time publicly talking about Amy, is that I hope people who knew her know that I do this act from a place of love and respect. She is one of my greatest inspirations, and I'd hate for her family to ever feel I maligned their loved one.

I think her family would be proud! Okay, final question: what will you be for Halloween this year?

High and drunk. If not, working.

We’ll see you out there one way or the other! Thanks, Cissy!

Check Thotyssey’s calendar for Cissy Walken’s upcoming appearances, and follow her on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

On Point Archives

#onpointwith #cissywalken

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thehardy-boys · 7 years

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The Maid Tommy Shelby x Reader Request

Hey everyone! It anyones listening... I haven't actually been able to watch season 4 of Peaky Blinders so I just kind of did the story to my best ability. I had a lot of fun writing this though. If you anyone wants a second part to this please let me know.

Request: Working as a maid for Tommy and him slowly falling in love with you

"Come on Charlie, Come on." You soothingly bounced the toddler on your hip while pouring hot water from the china teapot decorated with lavender stalks into a beautiful delicate white china teacup. You placed Charlie on the table you were working on to arrange the plate of biscuits that you were asked to bring out to the study. You careful picked up the teacup and saucer and held it in your right hand and with your left you careful balanced the plate of biscuits on your forearm. You then carefully very carefully picked up Charlie with your left arm holding him against your hip. You complimented yourself on your fine ability. You slowly started to walk out of the kitchen and into the drawing room, that was cozily decorated for Christmas. A big tree was planted in the corner. You smiled gently remembering helping pick Charlie up to help him put the star on the very top. The fire was burning brightly helping maintain the warmth. Ada and John were sprawled out on the overstuffed armchairs talking loudly and laughing at the littlest things. You walked through and entered the front room. Arthur and Micheal were in a heated discussion over something probably not that important. Both were grasping a cup of whiskey. Lizzie was sitting on the recliner in the corner reading a book contently. You continued to walk through until you were met with the door to the study. You stood for a second a bit stumped at how you were going to knock but soon you realized you had an extra pair of hands. "Charlie, Charlie." You cooed. "Could you knock for me?" You spent the next couple minutes trying in vain to get Charlie to cooperate but the poor little boy didn't know what you were saying to him. You finally gave up and started to knock with your head when the big oak door swung open. Revealing Tommy standing there with an amused smile on his face. "I heard you were having a bit of trouble." He chuckled. "Charlie wasn't cooperating with me." You teased. You entered the big room, happy to find Polly sitting on a couch smoking a cigarette. She looked over at you as you walked closer. "Darling, I don't know how you do it all." You smiled humbly and set the tea down for Tommy and the plate of biscuits most likely for Polly. Tommy came up behind you and gently lifted Charlie from your arms. You watched fondly as Tommy sat down with him talking to him quietly, making him laugh. "Do you need anything else?" You asked politely to the both of them. Tommy looked up from Charlie. "We're fine, why don't you get an early night? You deserve it." "Do you want me to put Charlie to bed?" You offered. "No, it's okay. I'll do it."Tommy responded looking up from his son. "Good night." You said and turned around and headed back through the rooms until you reached the kitchen. You closed the door to gain some privacy from the rest of the Shelby's. You went about preparing yourself some dinner. You had been Tommy's right handmaid for about three years now, three long years. He had hired you after his wife's death to help run the house. You didn't really mind the job. It wasn't a huge amount of work, it was only really Tommy and Charlie, which was a bit sad. You always glanced up at the painting of Grace Shelby as you passed it in the hall, and she was captivating, remarkably beautiful. Over the years you had worked for Tommy the two of you started to share a connection a special connection. He would never let any other servant into his study except you. He preferred you to take care of Charlie, he never minded when you sparked up a small chat with him when he wasn't busy and he also never minded you cleaning the room he was in, which he could never stand with any other maid. You liked that he allowed you to do these things. They were small in some peoples eyes but to Tommy, they were a big step. You had also grown to do certain special things tailored for Tommy. You know the time he comes home so you always put a glass and bottle of his favorite whiskey on his desk. You also decorate the house for him around the holidays which he would never admit but truly loves. When he forgets presents for his family you always buy and wrap some for him. And if he's had a really bad day then you run a bath for him. You sigh gratefully as you sit down in the chair at the kitchen table with your sandwich and cup of tea. You reach across the table and grab your book and begin to read. After a couple minutes, you hear a few attempts at someone trying to open the door. You reluctantly get up from your comfortable seat and go open the door, only to find little Charlie staring up at you with a smile on his small little face. "Whacha ya' doin here little one?" You asked picking him up. You closed the door with your hip and plodded on over to the cabinet rustling around for a box of biscuits. When you found them Charlie made a noise of happiness. You chuckled. "Just like your dad, aren't you? He loves these as well." You go over to your chair and sit down pretzel style and place Charlie on your lap and give him a couple of biscuits while you continued eating. You both fell into a nice quiet silence, Charlie eating his biscuit and you eating your dinner while sipping your tea. Soon Charlie fell asleep leaning against your chest and you continued reading your book in peace. A little while later you were brought out of your content little world when you heard a chuckle. You immediately looked up. Tommy was leaning against the door frame with a genuine smile on his face. "He really does like you." You blushed a little under the watchful eye of Tommy. You glanced down at Charlie and smiled. "Do you need anything, Mr. Shelby?" You said looking up at the man. "I just wanted to see where my son went running off to. I was going to put him to bed now everyones left." You immediately leaped up holding onto Charlie. "I'm really sorry Mr. Shelby! I didn't know they were going so soon, I would have gotten there jackets!" You looked at him apologetically. "Don't worry. I had a hunch you were with Charlie, I didn't want to disturb you." "That's very kind of you, Mr. Shelby. I'll go collect all the dishes." You walked towards the door, stopping to give Tommy Charlie so he could put him to bed. "Good night Mr. Shelby, good night Charlie!" You called over your shoulder as you started tidying up. You were peacefully sleeping in your room on the third floor which was the same floor as Tommy and Charlie. Tommy had insisted on it for the sake that Charlie like you best. You were awoken from your slumber by a loud wailing. You slipped on a light robe over your thing night dress and walked slowly towards Charlies room. "Charlie, Charlie." You softly sang as you sat down with him in your arms. You slowly rocked him on your lap. You thought for a moment and then began to softly chant a few lines of a poem. "In the bleak mid-winter Frosty wind made moan; Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak mid-winter Long ago." You repeated those few lines a few more times and eventually, Charlie was fast asleep. After you had laid Charlie in his bed you turned around and let out a yelp at the sight of a figure in the door. "God! Mr. Shelby, you scared me." You tried very hard not to look at his bare, perfectly sculpted chest. "Where did you hear that poem?" He asked quietly. You gestured to Charlie sleeping and walked out into the hallway that was dimly lit. "I was a nurse in the war. I heard the poem said by a soldier before he died. So whenever a soldier was close to death and had no comfort I tried to bring it to them with soothing words. Why?" You answered in a whisper. He looked a bit surprised, which you didn't see quite often. "I didn't know you were in the war." "There are a lot of things you don't know about me." Before you registered what was happening Tommy had brushed a few loose strands of hair that were covering your face. "I like your hair down and a bit messy." He whispered. "I like your hair a bit messy too." You said while reaching up and brushing his bangs aside. "Good night, Mr. Shelby." The next couple weeks were calm and unchangeable Tommy went out to work early in the morning and came back late as usual. On one particular wintery day, Charlie had drawn a picture of Tommy that was quite endearing. "You want me to show this to dad?" You asked as you stroked Charlie'shair as he was about to fall off to sleep. He nodded and whispered a sleepy, "Yes, please." You smiled and kissed his forehead feeling bad for the little boy, growing up with no mother, and having a sweet but distant father. You loved this time of night. When the house was still. The few cooks Tommy hired were cleaning the kitchen. The other two maids were cleaning the upper two floors, leaving you the ground floor. You hummed a quiet tune as you dustied around and cleaned up things that were left around. You had just started to dust the study when you heard the door open behind you. You looked around and saw a very tired looking Tommy. He gave you a solemn nod and sat down on the couch with a sigh. You queitly coutinued your tidying taking care to be extra quiet You could sense Tommy's tiredness. As you finished up you made your way towards the door, and said a quiet "Good night Mr. Shelby." But just before you left you heard him mumble a few words. You turned around to make sure you werent hearing things and you watched as Tommy gestured for the seat across from him. "Please, sit." You hesitated for a moment but you gave in and went to sit down on the carefully polished leather couch. "I'm tired," Tommy said suddenly letting out a stream of smoke. You looked up from fiddling with your hands in surprise, Tommy had never expressed his emotions to you before. "Me too," you responded quietly. You stared at eachother for a long time. "Where are you from?" Tommy asked. "London." You said simply. "You're smart, why did you end up as a maid?" He said in his deep monotone voice. "I was in school until the war came and they needed nurses, so I stopped doin math and started stitching up soldiers instead. When I got back, I had no experience for anything then a household job." "What was your job before this?" You suddenly found it quite hard to look Tommy in the eye. "I didn't have a job before this." Tommy looked at you with confusion written on his face. "How did you make money?" You glanced away from Tommy and began to inspect the vase that sat on the side table. "I was married. My husband had the job." Tommy suddenly sat forward. "You're married?" He asked. "Was." You whispered looking back at Tommy. Tommy was now the one that found it hard to look you in the eye. "I'm sorry, I understand how it feels." "I wish you didn't" And with those last few words you stood up and remembering Charlies drawing you took it from your apron pocket and unfolded it and handed it to Tommy. You walked out of the study. Only to stop when you heard his voice, "Tommy," You turned around, "Sorry?" You asked in confusion. "Please, call me Tommy."

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders season 4 #Tom Hardy #Alfie Solomons #TV show #polly shelby #Helen McCrory

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raisingsupergirl · 4 years

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You Miss 100% of the Shots You Don't Take—A Deer Hunting Story

I feel like God's always trying to teach me things. I mean, I’m not always paying attention, but every time I do, there's something in my life that reflects some little nugget of wisdom. And this past weekend, I hit the mother load. Granted, I was paying attention since I was on vacation in the woods, but no amount of "real" world monotony could have possibly distracted me from it. But let me start at the beginning.

First off, I'm not a hunter. Yes, I go deer hunting every year, but only on the opening weekend of rifle season. For reference, I spend more time doing my taxes every year than I do hunting, but I'm definitely no accountant. Anyway, I go hunting because it's a vacation. This time of year is always crazy, and the prospect of going to deer camp without any electricity, running water, traffic, 'rona, or politics is the highlight of my fall. And that's saying something considering all of the drawbacks: the aforementioned lack of running water and plumbing, the waking up every few hours throughout the night to put wood in the stove, the waking up before dawn to march down to my tree stand, the bitter cold while sitting in said tree stand. Oh, and putting in all of that time, effort, and money year after year only to come home without even seeing a deer. That is, until last year when I killed my first doe out of a new tree stand. Which meant this year, I was pumped. There were actually deer in those woods! And I had a good chance of another successful hunt this year. So, with my energies renewed, my brother and I drove down to camp, we cleaned things up, I cooked some fat, juicy steaks, we spent a relaxing evening around the fire, and we turned in for the evening, visions of monster bucks dancing in our heads. I was pumped! Well, mostly. Unfortunately, there was a black cloud hanging over my head.

No, seriously. It was a rain cloud. The forecast threatened storms pretty much the whole next day. And cold plus rain equals a cranky Andrew. But when we woke up Saturday morning, guess what? It wasn't raining! The forecast still promised precipitation, but now it wasn't supposed to hit until late morning, which meant I didn't need to march out into the cold, wet hell with a raincoat and a prayer. No, I would suit up in my usual camo and keep my eyes extra sharp, and with any luck, I'd bag a deer before the first raindrops fell. That was the plan, anyway…

Okay, waking up before dawn might suck, but seeing that sun come up over the ridgeline is magical. And last Saturday morning was no exception. The forest was completely silent. No wind. No squirrels. A thin line of orange stretched across the horizon. It thickened, chasing back the dark. It painted the tops of the tallest trees. The first hints of shadows turned every limb into what looked like a trophy buck. My heart quickened. Even in the overcast sky, the sun burned with a promise—this would be a morning worth the effort. But it would have to be a quick one, because the rain was rolling in at ten.

I sat comfortably for an hour. Like I said, no wind, and the temperature was above frostbite levels. Life was good, and my eyes were indeed sharp. Around 8:30, I saw something white flicker off to my right. Yes, there, about eighty yards away, was a deer. A doe, if I had to guess, but there were so many trees in the way that I couldn't be sure. And I definitely didn't have a clear shot, so I waited. Ten minutes went by without much change. That thing must have found a mother load of acorns, because it wasn't moving. That is, until a few minutes later when another deer came trotting down the ridge from the right. Deer 1's head popped up, but they must have been buddies, because it greeted Deer 2 without so much as a grunt. The two of them occupied themselves with that same plot of ground for another ten minutes, and I STILL didn't have a shot.

This was getting ridiculous, and I was getting impatient. The sky wasn't getting any lighter, and the forecast wasn't getting any better. So I leeeaaaned forward, and I leeeaaaaned back, and still I couldn’t get a clear shot. Oh, did I mention that I hunt with an open-sights rifle? At that range, I could have taken either of those deer easily if I'd had a scope. But as it was, every time I tried to level my sights, all I could see was gray haze. My excitement was cooling by the second. And the frustrations of life started creeping back in. Nothing ever worked out like it was supposed to. 2020 couldn't get any worse. People were always fighting. They were always telling me what I should do, and no one ever listened. But not here. Not in the woods. Here, I made my own rules—my own destiny. And so, I aimed at my best approximation of Deer 2's heart and squeezed the trigger.

Deer 2 was gone. Deer 1 bolted down to the left. I kept my sights on it. I almost fired again. But what if Deer 2 was lying dead behind the trees? Too long. Too much hesitation. Deer 1 was gone now, too. I called my brother, who was in his stand about three quarters of a mile away. I told him I thought I'd downed Deer 2, and he told me to wait a while and go check. So, naturally, I immediately got down from my stand to claim my prize. And when I got there, no deer. No blood. Nothing but crushed hopes and impending rain. I returned to my stand for a bit, but I was done. I'd forced the shot, and I'd blown it. An hour later, I was back in the cabin, lying on my futon, listening to rain pattering on the tin roof, wondering where it had all went wrong.

But you know what? It was still a good day. I wasn't going back out in the rain, but the next day was supposed to be bright and sunny—zero chance of precipitation and pretty warm. So you know what I did the rest of the rainy day? I took a nap. Why? Because I could. No one to tell me otherwise, and no pressing tasks I should be working on. I ate snacks, too. And drank some beer. And listened to the rain outside and the crackling wood stove at my feet. By evening, I was feeling optimistic again. There were deer in those woods! And I had a good chance of a successful hunt tomorrow. Especially since I would have all day to wait for the perfect shot!

I slept like a baby that night. Well, I would have, had there not been monsoon winds and literal tornado warnings. The rain came in sideways. Literally. It came in the cabin through the upper window. It sounded like the walls were about to tear off and leave us for dead. And while I usually love storms, this one felt different. It felt like the storms in my real life. It felt like it was trying to tell me what to do, how to live. It threatened to determine my future and dampened my spirits once again. And when I did finally go to sleep around midnight, I dreamed anxious dreams. Dreams of hackers taking over all the electronics in America and rioters tearing down everything I loved.

But then, the strangest thing happened. When my alarm went off at 4:45, I felt great. Not groggy. Not anxious. Not cold. Optimistic warmth coursed through my veins once more. I was actually smiling. The storm had moved on, and outside, the stars were shining brighter than I'd seen them in years. And as I stood there looking up at them, I felt God's promise. He would bring me a deer this day. Maybe even my first buck.

When I got to my stand, the feeling continued. An owl hooted nearby. The sun rose again, brighter this time. The woods were practically glowing. I settled in and surveyed the landscape. I knew every tree, every limb, every hill, and every valley. If a deer came through, I'd see it. And I'd kill it. And a couple hours later, I saw movement.

It all happened so fast. The deer was trotting from left to right across the ridge. My gun was at my shoulder. I only had a few seconds, so I squeezed the trigger. But the deer kept running, faster now. I shot again. The deer changed direction. He was running down the hill now, straight for me, through the trees. After my third shot, he turned back to the left, but his run turned into a walk. And then I lost him behind some brush, and he never came back out. He HAD to be down. I called my brother again. "Is it the zombie apocalypse?" were his first words. I laughed. "Wait a half an hour," he said. Five minutes later, I saw movement. The deer was standing. Looking around. It was a buck. Then I lost sight of him again. I waited another ten minutes, but I couldn't wait any longer. God had promised me a deer, after all. So I climbed down and crept toward my kill. About twenty yards away, he jumped up and ran down the far side of the ridge. Crap. I'm an idiot. Why didn't I listen to my brother? I searched for blood. Nothing. Of course there was nothing. I was no hunter. I was no tracker. This deer was gone. But I followed him nonetheless, clinging desperately to a fool's hope.

Over the river and through the woods, but I had no idea where I was going. But it wasn't long before a suspicion tickled my thoughts--I was walking straight for my brother's stand. It was enough to keep me going (and yes, he’s a very responsible hunter and has zero track record of shooting people), and at the bottom of the hill, I heard the distinct sound of a deer's bleat. My brother assures me that's not the right word for it, but it's the only way I know how to describe it. After a few hundred more yards of walking, I heard a shot from the direction of my brother's stand. No way. I stopped and waited, afraid to get any closer to the kill zone despite wearing my "I'm not a deer!" orange. My pace quickened, and so did my pounding heart. Another shot. Then my brother called.

"Did you kill my deer?" were my first words. "He's laying right in front of me, looking right at me," he said. "I can't believe he's not dead. Want me to shoot him again?" After a few minutes, I finally said, "Yes." And he did. And it was over. The deer was dead at last. And it was a five-point buck.

We talked for a while, trying to figure out what the heck had happened, and then we inspected the kill. I'm not going to tell you how many times we shot it, but that thing was a fighter, that's for sure. And when I took it to the meat processing place, the guy literally shook his head. "Which one of you shot him in the butt?" he asked. He pointed out all of the holes, piecing the hunt together like a CSI analyst, then he promised me that he'd salvage as much meat as he could. That was fine. I'd killed my first buck. Well, WE had killed my first buck. Do you know how weird that is? Do you realize the odds of that deer running directly from my stand to my brother's? Do you know how unlikely it was, considering the infinite amount of directions it could have gone out from that single point? Well, I don't either (math isn't my strong suit), but it's pretty danged unlikely, that's for sure. God had definitely delivered that deer despite my impatience. Despite my burning desire to make own luck.

It's impossible to unpack all of my thoughts and emotions as I replay the events of that hunt in my mind—the significance of the events of the whole weekend, really. But I'll try, and I'll leave the interpretations up to you. Like many of you, my life is a storm right now. I don't know what my future holds. I'm being pulled a thousand different directions. I'm trying so hard to make my own fate, but it seems impossible when everything's so uncertain. When each day brings a new, unexpected obstacle. But I'm not going to quit. I'm not going to let external circumstances bog me down or force me into a life I'll regret. And I keep thinking, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take."

Now, before you smart people say anything, I know that's not how math works (despite it not being my strong suit). I know there can't be a percentage at all if the value of N is zero. But the sentiment rings true. I forced the shot on Saturday, and I missed. I forced several shots on Sunday, and I missed at least one of them, and I didn't truly hit my mark with any of them. And yet… God answered my prayers. Despite all odds, he used my brother to deliver my first buck in the strangest way I can imagine. There's no other way I can describe it.

Life is crazy for everyone right now. We're all doing our best just to hang on. The storm is still raging, but the forecast is looking better. There are times when we force the shot, but it's better than the alternative. We can't just let our hopes and dreams walk away over the ridge. If we do, we may never get another chance, and we'll regret it forever. We'll go home empty handed with nothing but a story about the deer that got away. So I, for one, will continue pulling the trigger. Why? Because I serve a faithful God. I know he is watching over me. I know he shakes his head at me every day, wondering why I don't see his signs, why I don't wait for the clear shot that he's setting up for me. With time, maybe I'll see a little clearer. Maybe I'll line up my shot a little more carefully. But for now, I'm doing the best with what I have. And I'll trust God to provide for me despite all odds. And next deer season, I'm definitely bringing a rifle with a scope.

#hunting #deer hunting #rifle season #rifle season 2020 #first buck #hunting stories #dadblr #momblr #mumblr #faith #inspirational

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 Episode 5 Easter Eggs & References

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This Star Trek: Discovery article contains spoilers for Season 3, Episode 5.

Because everything in the 32nd century is brand-new for the Star Trek canon, it would make sense that the writers of Star Trek: Discovery could get away with not really referencing anything from the existing canon. To put it another way, how much do you really know about the year 1090 off the top of your head? The gap between Discovery’s point of origin in 2258 and 3188-3189 is huge. And yet, nerdy Star Trek Easter eggs and HUGE call-backs to some of the most beloved ships and characters ever, endure.

From a surprise cameo from a famous film director, to a lesson in Mirror Universe history, and yes, the appearance of Captain Janeway’s beloved starship, here are all the Easter eggs we caught in the latest Star Trek: Discovery episode, “Die Trying.”

“Federation and Starfleet Headquarters”

Saru notes that the ship is en route to “Federation and Starfleet Headquarters,” and then points out that these are “separate entities that now must abide together.” Although sometimes used interchangeably, this distinction is relevant. Starfleet actually predates the Federation and is an exploratory organization, analogous with what might happen if NASA and the Navy were combined in space. The United Federation of Planets, on the other hand, is the government. Starfleet and the Federation are not the same things, except now, as Saru points out, in the 32nd Century, they kind of are.

New Constitution

Owo sees what she describes as a “new Constitution.” This can only refer to what she infers is an upgraded version of a Constitution-class starship. The NCC-1701 Enterprise was one of 12 Constitution-class ships in service in Joann Owosekun’s time.

USS Voyager and USS Nog

The crew very prominently sees and talks about the USS Voyager NCC-74656-J. Owo and Tilly confirm that the “J” constitutes 11 “generations of evolution.” It is unclear if this means that this is literally the same Voyager from the 24th Century, or if the “J” means that this is the 11th ship to carry the name, “Voyager.” Elsewhere in the Starfleet Headquarters, barely visible is the USS Nog. Clearly, this was named for the Ferengi Nog from Deep Space Nine. Played by the late Aron Eisenberg, Nog was the first Ferengi in Starfleet.

New Starfleet uses the TNG coloring

Admiral Charles Vance and the rest of the 32nd Century Starfleet seem to use the color-coded system from the TNG era. Command officers still appear to sport red, while stripes of gold and blue are visible on other uniforms.

Kaminar Joined the Federation

Saru is thrilled to learn that Kaminar became a Federation planet sometime after Discovery jumped into the future. Because we never heard from Kelpiens in the 23rd or 24th century, it seems likely they joined the Federation at some point after that. In the Short Treks episode “The Brightest Star,” we learned the Prime Georgiou rescued Saru from Kaminar, but that Saru couldn’t return there because of issues with the Prime Directive. In Discovery Season 2, the ship returned to Kaminar in “The Sound of Thunder,” but Kaminar definitely didn’t enter the Federation at that point.

Sigma Draconis System References “Spock’s Brain”

One unnamed officer tells Admiral Vance that the “Emerald Chain” — an alliance of Andorians and Orions — is up to no-good in the “Sigma Draconis” system. This is the same star system from the TOS episode “Spock’s Brain.” Let’s hope that Spock’s brain hasn’t been stolen — again.

The size of the Federation

For the first time ever, the size of the Federation has been firmly established, not just now, but also, prior to the current timeline. Vance tells Saru and Burnham that there are “38 member worlds” in the Federation right now, but that because of bad communications, it’s possible that there may be more. Vance also says this number is “down from 350 at its peak.” We knew there were a lot of planets in the Federation in TNG, but we really had no idea exactly how many.

Starfleet Federation combo

As mentioned by Saru in the opening monologue, Vance doubles-down on the idea that “Where we sit now represents not only the headquarters of Starfleet Command by also the entire civilian government of the United Federation of Planets.” It’s unclear at this point if there are civilian government officials still operating, or if Vance is saying that he is basically Starfleet and the Federation at the same time. He also says that everything has “been that way since the Burn.”

Zero records of Discovery is basically Spock’s fault

Vance says “our records show Discovery was destroyed in 2258.” Saru implies the files would have been erased by Starfleet for safety reasons. But, the truth is, Spock is the one who erased the stuff about the Spore Drive. We saw Spock take these steps in “Such Sweet Sorrow Part 2.”

A War to Uphold the Temporal Accords

Admiral Vance’s “quick history lesson” mentions that the Federation spent most of the 30th Century fighting “a war to uphold the temporal accords” which he says is an “interstellar treaty outlawing time travel.” This references the prequel series Star Trek: Enterprise, and basically establishes that the “Temporal Wars” alluded to by Book in “That Hope Is You Part 1” are the same Temporal Wars that Daniels pulled Captain Archer into. It also seems that the Temporal Wars may have continued in the relative “present” beyond what we saw Daniels doing in Enterprise.

The Discovery crew drops references for their entire story

As the crew is getting debriefed by the new Starfleet, several characters, including Culber, Reno and Tilly tease-out plotpoint from previous seasons.

Culber: “I was emotionally dead, and I was murdered”

Culber was killed in the Season 1 episode “Despite Yourself,” when the Discovery jumped to the Mirror Universe. He was then brought back to life in the Season 2 episode “Saints of Imperfection.” He was in a terrible mood about being brought back to life which is why he jokes here that “I was emotionally dead.” The fact that he and his “murderer are good now,” references a confrontation he had with Ash Tyler in “If Memory Serves.”

Reno: “Commander Burnham fell out of the sky, with Captain Pike”

This references the Season 2 debut, “Brother,” in which Burnham and Pike rescued Reno from the USS Hiawatha, which had been crashed into an asteroid.

Tilly: “After I got my hair blown out and became a Terran Captain/Dominatrix”

Tilly is talking about the episodes in which she had to impersonate the Captain of the Terran ISS Discovery, her Mirror Universe counterpart nicknamed “Killy.” This started in the episode “Despite Yourself” and went through “What’s Past Is Prologue.” When Tilly had to dye her hair and straighten it in “Despite Yourself,” she noted that her mother would have approved.

David Cronenberg

During Georgiou’s debrief, a mysterious man with glasses sits-in and asks her all sorts of pointed questions. This character has not yet been named, but he is played by legendary film director David Cronenberg. Among other films, sci-fi fans probably know Cronenberg best for directing The Fly and Scanners. Is this new character a representative of the future version of Section 31?

Georgiou’s Mirror Universe History

Cronenberg’s character notes that the present is Georgiou’s “second universe, your third timeline.” This means that Georgiou has existed in the Mirror Universe version of 2257, the Prime Universe version of 2257-2258, and now, the Prime Universe version of 3188.

April 5: Bizzaro First Contact Day

Cronenberg’s man with glasses also mentions April 5, 2063. In the Prime Universe, this is First Contact Day but in the Mirror Universe, it’s the day that humans killed the Vulcans who landed on Earth. This event is depicted in the opening scenes of the Star Trek: Enterprise episodes “In a Mirror, Darkly Part 1 and Part 2.” To date, those are the only episodes of Trek canon that take place entirely in the Mirror Universe.

The Terran Empire’s Demise

When Georgiou and Cronenberg talk about the Terran Empire versus the Federation, he points out that the Federation “endures, unlike the Terran Empire that fell centuries ago.” We have no idea how this guy has access to so much history about a parallel universe, but the collapse of the Terran Empire references the Deep Space Nine episodes that take place in the Mirror Universe, starting with “Crossover.” In that episode, we learned that after Kirk asked Mirror Spock to make the Empire nicer in the TOS episode “Mirror, Mirror,” Mirror Spock basically did just that. But, his actions eventually led to the downfall of the Terran Empire. As far as we know, in canon, the most “recent” crossover to the Mirror Universe would have happened during Deep Space Nine, which is why Cronenberg says there hasn’t been a crossing between the two realities in “500 years.”

Ion storm

Speaking of the TOS episode “Mirror, Mirror,” while trying to help the Federation seed ship, the USS Discovery encounters an ion storm. Though this plot device has been used a lot in Trek, it was notably the reason why Kirk, Uhura, Scotty and Bones accidentally beamed to the Terran ISS Enterprise in “Mirror, Mirror.”

Burnham in command

Oddly, though Burnham is the main character of the show, we really haven’t seen her in command of the USS Discovery. Other than her brief attempt at mutiny on the USS Shenzhou, and her command of the ISS Shenzhou, this is the only real time she’s been in legit command of a starship during the entire run of the series.

Barzan Joined the Federation

Nhan hails from a race of aliens called the Barzan. In the TNG episode “The Price,” the Barzan were trying to sell rights to a wormhole in their space. At that time, the Barzan were not a member of the Federation. Their planet was also super-reliant on other planets for assistance, which is why Nhan later says that her people are known for “poverty.”

Airam’s funeral

Nhan tells Burnham that she’ll never forget Airam’s funeral and what Burnham said. This references the Discovery Season 2 episode “The Red Angel,” which began with the entire crew honoring Airam’s sacrifice in the previous episode, “Project Daedalus.”

Federation Starchart References a Ton of Known Star Trek Planets

A huge holographic star chart at Starfleet Command contains the names of a bunch of planets from the entirety of Trek canon. Some of the names are mirrored, which makes it tricky to read them all, but here are the ones we caught

Ankari Homeworld: This alien species comes from the Voyager episodes “Equinox Parts 1 and 2.”

Cardassia Prime: The homeworld of the Cardassians, primarily from Deep Space Nine.

Thalos: While it’s tempting to read this as a misspelling of “Talos,” from TOS, it’s not. Several planets in the Thalos system were referenced in both TNG and DS9.

Halee: Historically this is a Klingon planet in the Beta Quadrant. It’s been referenced in Discovery and TNG, starting with the TNG episode “Heart of Glory.”

We Don’t Have Five-Year Missions Anymore

Vance tells Burnham and Saru that Starfleet doesn’t “have five-year missions anymore.” This of course, references The Original Series, in which the Enterprise was on a 5-year-mission of exploration. Sura and Burnham are super-familiar with this policy, mostly because Pike was on a five-year mission on the Enterprise before he became temporary captain of the Discovery. Saru tells Vance that he feels like the DISCO crew come from a “revered time,” which seems to imply Saru has been reading a bunch of history while Burnham was on this mission. In this sense, Saru is aware that contemporary Starfleet must be huge fans of the exploits of the 23rd Century Starfleet. Basically, Saru gambles that the new Starfleet is filled with people who are, in a sense, classic Star Trek fans. He’s not wrong.

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Star Trek: Discovery airs new episodes on Thursdays on CBS All Access.

The post Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 Episode 5 Easter Eggs & References appeared first on Den of Geek.

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whyamiupagain · 7 years

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Another Sad Love Song

imagine #2 part #2

Hi guys! Sorry I haven’t uploaded. School is kicking my ass but I’ll try to post more with longer parts. Hope you enjoy!

Days had gone by. I did all I could possibly do to avoid Auston. If a friend would invite me for lunch I had to make sure Auston wouldn't be there or any way Auston could somehow show up where we were at for me to even go out, all without dropping hints that something happened. I changed my route to school because I knew for sure I would run into Auston on the daily. I was basically in constant fear I had to be face to face with the man who broke my heart. Finally it took about a week or so for our mutual friends to wonder why I wouldn't hangout with them anymore. I lied to them saying that I had some random school project that was stressing me out. They all decided to surprise me by waiting for me to get out of class and "kidnap" me. It was actually a very kind gesture that I really appreciated because it took my mind off of Auston. We all went to go eat at my favorite restaurant, we went to see a movie, and we even went bowling. For the first time in a long time I genuinely felt happy. They told me they had more surprises for me. They insisted on blindfolding me to "enhance the experience", which I did just so they would shut up. We drove for about 15 minutes. They helped me get out of the car safely and also made sure I wouldn't crack my head on the way up the stairs. One of them knocked and then I heard a door being opened. They lead me in and told me to take off my blindfold at the count of 3.

"1, 2, 3!" they cheered. And I took off my blindfold and saw that we were at my apartment. I thought how in the world did they get in? I saw balloons, goodies and sweets, a couple of beer cases, and non other than Auston Matthews. Then I realized how they got in. I gave Auston a key when we first started "dating". I was still so happy from the very kind gesture my friends were doing for me but it was so hard keeping my smile up once I saw Auston.

"Wow" I said still amazed and ignoring Auston.

"Do you like it?" one friend asked.

"Ya, I love it, and I love all of you guys. Thank you for today it really meant a lot" I said to them.

"Oh great! We were really hoping you'd like it. We even got Mr Auston Matthews here to get some free time to spend it with us and not the 'love of his life' " one friend joked. We all laughed and Auston just looked annoyingly at the friend. They all chimed in comments like "Loved Boy" or "Soon to be married Matthews". They didn't mean to hurt me, but those comments really stung me. Hard.

"Im going to go get fresh air" I told them and I stepped into the cold Toronto air. As soon as I closed the door tears came flying down from my eyes. All I could hear was the distant noise of people chattering, the cold wind, and my sobbing. I couldn't take it much longer. He's in love with someone else. Not me. I just had to accept it the way it was. As much as it hurt, I wanted him to do what made him the happiest. I quickly tried to stop crying, I fixed my makeup and took out my phone to see if I didn't look like I was balling my eyes out just a few seconds ago. Right as I was about to stand up from where I was sitting, one of Auston and I's mutual friend, Mitch Marner, came out and joined me. He could quickly tell what I was doing outside. He didn't say anything, instead he hugged me. Again, since Im such a crybaby, I began to cry. He whispered to me that everything was going to be ok, and that he wouldn't leave me until I let it all out so I could enjoy the rest of the night. A couple minutes later I stopped crying. And we stayed there in silence.

"So do you want to talk about it?" Mitch asked after a couple of minutes.

"Im not quite sure if this is the right time" I told him.

"Well you know I heard that of you tell someone what's making you feel sad that you'll feel better after telling them" Mitch tried to convince me to tell him what the hell is making me sad after what a wonderful day we all just had. After thinking for a while, I was prepared to finally tell him, since all he was trying to do was be a good friend, when the door opened and out our friend yelled at us to go back inside or else we would die of hypothermia.

I could easily tell that they were all slightly drunk with the exception of a very quiet and slightly annoyed Auston.

"Ok, ok were going. Jesus Christ calm down" Mitch told them. He helped me get up and whispered in my ear, reminding me that we weren't done with our conversation. We got in and I was immediately handed a beer. I quickly shot it down so that I forget why I got sad after such an amazing day. On my third beer, Auston announced that he was leaving. Grumbling and nagging began to arise. Our friends were teasing him that he had to return home to the "Mrs" which Auston simply rolled his eyes at. I was starting to get too drunk to even make a remark of the comments. Right as Auston was about to close the door I caught him starring at me. Which I then , due to my drunkenness, flipped him off which made all our equally drunk friends laugh at my actions to him. I saw him smirk slightly before shutting the door leaving me with a night to regret in the morning.

The day after I had a pretty massive headache. That was my main goal of the night anyways. I just up to a messy empty house, praying that all my friends made it home safely. I took a shower and cleaned up the mess my friend had left me. I got a call from Mitch inviting me to brunch and so that we can continue last nights conversation. I agreed, hung up, got ready, and went to go meet him up where we had agreed to meet. I got there a tad late but luckily for me Mitch knew my regular order and ordered for me. We sat there had a bit of small talk before Mitch told me to tell him what was bothering me last night.

"Mitch, I don't want to cry in front of all these people or even in public" I told him. I thought those excuses would get me out of telling him.

"Come on (Y/N) don't give me excuses. I want to know what was bothering you so that I can either fix the situation or beat up the guy who made you feel this way" he said, which made me mentally laugh at little ol'Mitch trying to beat up a much bigger Auston.

"Ok, fine. I'll tell you. But please don't get mad at Auston or say anything about this to anyone even Auston" I said to him. He seemed to get mad, maybe at the thought that Auston would do something to me, but he just nodded. "Ok, so a couple months before the season ended me and Auston started to date. We didn't want to tell anyone. So you know, as one does in a relationship, we got to know each other pretty well and I fell in love with him and I thought he was in love of me too. Summer came and you know I went to go see my parents and Auston went to see his. He didn't call nor text me at all during the summer and I didn't think about to much because I knew he was with his family and he was having fun. When I saw her with him when we all got back to Toronto. And when I heard him present her as his girlfriend that he adored so much, I lost it. He never wanted to let people know that we were dating nor did he want to be seen out in public aline with me. I never once heard him talk about me like the way he did about her. I confronted him, I asked him if I meant anything else to him besides a daily hook up or if our relationship meant anything to him. And he told me he only saw me as a friend that he was too in love with her. I asked him if he ever loved me the way I did to him and he said no. And for days I was avoiding you all in fear that I might see him. Sorry that I lied. And when I saw him last night it hit me again, that he never loved me, that he loves somebody else. That I just need to accept it because in the end I just want him to be happy. But, its just so hard to continue loving the person who broke your heart, its hard seeing them love another person" I finally told him with tears threatening to come out. Mitch was just in pure shock. It took him sometime to take in all the information that I just spilled.

"I need to go" he said while getting up and pulling out way too much cash for our meal and setting it down on the table.

"Mitch wait", I grabbed on to his arm," please don't tell Auston. I don't want him to get mad or I don't want him to end the relationship he's in right now, he's so happy with her. I just need to accept that" I said to the frantic boy.

"No (Y/N), I am going to go tell him what a big mistake he made and of all the pain he's done to you, then only he can decide what to do about it" and with that he got easily out of my grip and ran off to his car. I just sat at the table in full shock. I couldn't move or even think. I was just waiting for whatever was to happen next.

#auston matthews imagine #auston matthews #toronto maple leafs imagine #Toronto Maple Leafs #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #hockey #nhl

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