#I managed to get a spontaneous sketch done though !

[leconcombrerit]

I wanted to work on this more, give it nice lighting and make sort of a moodboard or something like that, but actually that's enough of a mood in and of its own.

[apherod]

Rubian Soulmate AU

I finally finished writing it ahhhh

I eventually decided that I was going for a sketch-style writing for this. Just short bits and pieces here and there, piecing together some scenes, but not fully fleshed out into a storyline (it coincides with the original story mostly anyway)

So here it is! Enjoy!

This is a Liam and Ruby Soulmate AU requested by an anon (possibly @thedarkestcrew?) ask, in which damage done to one half of the soulmate pair would translate to the other half. 

Word count: 4400

===

Liam

“Where did all these bruises come from?”

I was driving through Highway 95 in Maryland when I noticed the bruises crowning my knuckles. They just…appeared, like petals floating to the surface of water. It is possible that I punched something—or someone—at some point in the last few days, or tripped and fell, and using…my fists to break the fall? But I don’t recall doing any of that.

Then again, my head hadn’t been the most reliable in these past few weeks, either.

They weren’t the first. A couple of weeks ago, I woke up with a cut on my upper arm, and the blood drenched half of my sleeve, but the sleeve wasn’t torn or cut, so it couldn’t have been me… Another one came a few days after that, when I was driving, and a sudden searing pain came to my wrist, like I was burnt by a frying pan, but that part of my skin wasn’t even touching anything. The list goes on.

I think I’m going insane.

Some people…some who are lucky enough to find their soulmates, found themselves with identical wounds on them, because when one half of that bond gets hurt, the other one suffers, too. Mom’s bruises never translated onto our birth dad. Maybe that was why he was so okay with hurting her. It wasn’t until she met Harry, did that magic—or curse—work on both of them.

But that’s exactly that—it only happens after you’ve met the person. If I’ve somehow met her, and didn’t know who she was, then I’ve really screwed up. Big time.

It couldn’t have been anyone in Caledonia, otherwise I would’ve known. No one from home, either. There weren’t even that many of us left. Could it be someone from East River? For some reason, I just couldn’t be sure… There’re this weird quality in my memory when I think of East River, glowing tinge surrounding everything, blurring details, and flaring up the edges, making it hard to see for too long.

Also, if I met her in East River, why isn’t she with me?

If she’s really out there, I felt sorry for all the pain I’ve caused her in the past few days. When I narrowly escaped that group of Skip Tracers, my arms were all cut up, real pretty. I can’t imagine the horror she must have felt when her arms just, out of nowhere, started spontaneously bleeding half of her blood out.

I really ought to take better care of myself, even if it’s just for her sake.

When I crossed the state boarder into Pennsylvania, I managed to find an old payphone, and left a voice mail for my brother to let him know where I am, and that I’m coming his way. I didn’t want to—asking for Cole’s help was one of the few things that I genuinely want to avoid—but I’m really desperate.

The truth is, just imagining him gloating about this—about me needing his help—was almost enough to make me turn around. Think about the last time I asked for his help… didn’t work out so well, did it? But whatever Cole has to offer, whatever nightmare I have to live through going back to the League, is better than being hauled back into the camp.

I don’t think they’d actually take me back into a camp, anyway.

When I got passed the wrong Wilmington, I briefly glimpsed the road sign that read US 13, and a voice suddenly rang in my head.

Turn off here. It urged.

The feeling was distinctly different from my reluctance to meet Cole—it was a drive, asking me to go somewhere, rather than run from somewhere.

Whatever it was, I can’t listen, no matter how hard I wanted to, no matter how it warmed my heart just thinking about that impulse, like it would lead me home, even though I had no idea how.

I got into the city of Philadelphia, and found my brother’s apartment soon enough. When I got into his building, a woman threw me a sideway glance that made my hair stood on their ends.

Please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me… I muttered in my head while I pressed the buzzer. The door swung opened, and I was snatched inside by a forceful arm.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Cole snarled before I could even lay eyes on him properly. “Why didn’t you call me when you got here?”

He looked much better than me, that much was clear. Cole never had any wound that wasn’t his own, and from the looks of him, he hadn’t seen much action lately. His hair was clean-cut, brushed neatly away from his face. He was wearing a white shirt and dark blue jeans, with metal-frame glasses which were clearly without diopters to finish the look. In this getup, you’d expect him to be a graduate student in U Penn, not a high school dropout.

“I… I didn’t have any money to place a call.” I muttered, feeling my voice getting smaller. Gosh, I hated this. I hated that I felt like a child again. I took off my jacket, and hung it on the peg right next to his. They were two identical black leather jackets, which Mom bought us years ago—she got them a couple of sizes bigger than we were at the time, in anticipation that we would eventually grow into them. Cole did, whereas I felt like I still hadn’t.

Cole let out a long and harsh breath, and gave me a scan head to toe. “You’ve seen better days.” He commented eventually, a subtle amusement in his tone. “Even for you, this is a bit excessive…” He gingerly lifted my right wrist, and got a good look at my forearm, all cut up.

You don’t say. I wanted to retort, but didn’t. “What are you doing in Philly?” I asked as I retracted my hand.

Cole raised an eyebrow. “You really want to know?”

Maybe not. “I’d probably know eventually, wouldn’t I?” I said.

He scratched his chin, frowning. “You know what this means, right? You know where we’re going?”

“Look, if I could just find Mom and Harry…” I began, but he raised his hand and stopped me.

“No,” He snapped, “We don’t have that kind of time. My assignment here is done. I’m being extracted at midnight, which is in less than four hours, and if you think I’d let you out running into the wild and being hauled into a camp again, you’d have another thought coming.”

Choose me. I remembered the subtext of what Cole said that night when he left home, and now it was ringing in a different tone. Now I don’t have a choice.

“All right.” I sighed. “Whatever you say.”

He frowned deeper. But it took him a while to say something. “Look, I know the last time you came with me, it didn’t end so well, but things are turning around.” He said, palms down, pacifying. “I promise, just stick it out a few months.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

He bit his lip. “I just do. Trust me.” He said, then gave me a tight smile, “Tell you what, I’ll go get us something to eat, and you clearly need a shower.” He took off his glasses, grabbed the keys, then, as if remembered something, added with a grin, “Do not, drown in the bathtub.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes.

Before he could open the door, though, I stopped him. “Cole,” I began, but didn’t really know how to finish.

“Yeah?” He prompted.

“Have we...” I caught myself just for a moment. What am I doing? “...have we ever been to Virginia Beach?”

Because that…memory? was so vivid, that I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there, calling me at every moment I so much as allowed my mind to idle for a second. But it also had that bright glare around it, like it didn’t really belong to me, like I was seeing it through a mirror, into a different dimension where we were all happier people.

Cole was there, looking exactly like how he was now, but Claire was also there, and that didn’t make any sense…

“No…?” Cole said, “We lived in Wilmington. We went to Wrightsville, remember?”

Of course I do, but… I shook my head. “It’s just… I kept seeing this…memory, that we were there, and Claire was there, too…”

Cole pressed his lips tight. I know mentioning Claire’s name would probably put him on edge, but it’s not like I have other people to talk about her with anyway. A part of me wanted to be a bit mean about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t have the strength.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said, voice rigid. “Just go take your shower. I’ll be back with the food.”

And he left, leaving me alone in his white and bare apartment.

I still couldn’t be sure that it was a good idea coming here. If I’m being honest with myself, it wasn’t even about my negative view on the League, or what it had turned my brother into, but that…I’m not sure how to be his brother anymore. I’m not even sure that he needs a brother.

Hell. Looking around this place, I got the feeling that a brother wasn’t the only thing he didn’t need. But then again, knowing how Cole kept his room, it was maybe a good thing that he had so few belongings here. This place…it didn’t even feel like someone actually live here; there were so few things breaking the white of the walls, it was almost glaring to my eyes.

I first went to check his bed, to see if he still has that weird habit—falling asleep with cigarettes still in his hand. His bedsheet looked clean enough; nothing charred. No ashtray, either. Maybe he quit.

Satisfied, I went to grab a t-shirt and a pair of pants from his closet, and dived into the pressurized water in his shower.

I can’t remember when was the last time I had running water. Probably…when I was in the League’s safe house? Gosh. My skin is so filthy, the water only started running clean after a good ten minutes of scrubbing, and I was scrubbing hard.

I was extra careful when I cleaned my arms, though. Not particularly because I was scared of pain, but more that I didn’t want to hurt this…person who might share this unfortunate connection with me, however low the chance might be. I didn’t want to make her suffer even more—somehow, I knew it was a her, for reasons I couldn’t quite put into words.

When I got out of the shower, I felt like my entire body had been turned inside out. My skin was glowing pink against the white tiling of Cole’s bathroom. He is an inch or two taller than me—which was sore to admit, but hey, I went through puberty in a lot worse condition than he did—so his pants hung a little too long around my ankles.

Then I finally got a good look at myself in the mirror. Damn, I looked awful. The dark shadows under my eyes were so purple, they looked almost black. Not to mention the countless scratches and bruises. There was a new one on my left cheek, just above the jawline. Whether it was mine or hers, I didn’t know.

Just as I threw the towel over my head, and started rubbing the water away from my hair, I heard it—siren. It began from a distance, a low wailing, but it was enough to set every hair on my back on its end. As I flew out of Cole’s shower, grabbed my jacket, and rushed to the window side, the siren got closer—and multiplied. The sound of them were like a harmony from hell.

Should I run? Should I stay?

I should run.

Even though they might not be coming for me, I knew better than to push my luck—it hadn’t really been on my side recently, and that woman who looked at me a second too long when I got in the building was probably proving me right. I threw the apartment door open, and on a second thought, ran for the roof instead of the ground floor.

I can reconvene with Cole later. I need to stay out of sight now. Cole’s a smart guy, he knows what to do in a situation like this.

It had started raining. I tripped on a mossy patch on the rooftop, and almost broke my jaw, but I stood up and kept running. I pushed myself over the ledge of the next building, and sprinted for the fire escape on the far end. The sound of the first bullet fired almost made me lose my bearing when I lowered myself onto the metal shaft.

They are on the other side. There were two fully populated buildings between me and those bullets, and they were firing at someone else—which means I’m not who they’re after. These are all good news.

Right?

Since when had I been that lucky after I turned twelve?

I pulled the hood of the jacket over my head, and dove into the shadow of the next alley. The gunfire had stopped, which meant that they probably got whoever they were after. I took the long way around the block, trying to get a hang of the situation, getting an idea of where I could find Cole without being spotted—

Oh, I found him alright.

Fuck. No. Fuck.

I only caught sight of him for a second before they slammed the back of that van shut, and in that brief second, he looked up, and he saw me.

No.

Christ. No. I… I got him caught. I did… I did this… Why didn’t I warn him? Why didn’t I go to him as soon as I heard the siren?

What have I done?

If you’re caught, you’re disavowed. I still remembered that phrase like it was etched into my skull. If anything encapsulates what I hate about the League the most, this is it. And now, Cole is going to be another casualty under that cold hard rule. The thought almost made my knees buckled, but instead of crashing down, I up and ran.

I ran. From this nightmare of my own making.

+++

Ruby

“Ruby!”

The scream came before the punch could land. I didn’t register what was happening in that first moment, not until the blood was dripping down my elbows, and staining the blue mats under us.

“Go to the infirmary!” Coach Johnson ordered, and I gladly obeyed. I could hear the whispering judgements forming even before I left the training room—what was that? What’s wrong with her? Where did those come from?

I knew exactly where they came from.

If Chubs was here, he’d likely yell at me for not getting these wounds taken care of immediately, but I simply…couldn’t. I ran for the shower stall, being careful not to stain the curtain, and turn on the tap.

With the water pouring out the showerhead, steaming up every bit of air around me, blurring my vision, I finally let the tears fall.

My arms didn’t hurt that much. At least, not as much as my heart. The bruises were bearable—who doesn’t get those occasionally living in the wild? I got one every other day even just from the training. But these cuts…he was in danger. Maybe he only got away with it within an inch of his life.

The only consolation I had was that I wasn’t mortally wounded, which meant he wasn’t, either. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t regret my decision of letting him go every second of every day.

If I did that to protect him, all these wounds and bruises only proved how wrong I was, how in vain my suffering had been.

“Ruby?” Cate’s voice.

I swallowed hard before answering. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?” She asked, standing outside of my stall.

“Yes.” I lied.

“Coach Johnson said you were hurt—” She didn’t buy it. “Look, if you don’t want to go to the infirmary, I can take a look—”

“I’m fine.” I cut her off. The timer on the tap beeped, warning me that the water would start running cold. My blood was dripping down from my fingers, dropping into the shallow water on the concrete floor like roses blooming in the snow.

“Ruby, I can see the blood.” Cate said dryly, then softer, coaxing. “Come out, please. Let me dress your wounds.”

Only if I could just close my eyes, and pretend for a second that the person who was waiting for me with antiseptic was Chubs, not Cate. If only I could pretend that these wounds were mine, not of the boy that I dreamt of every night for the past few months.

If only I could pretend that they were here with me, or that I wasn’t here at all.

I sighed, and brushed the curtain open. To Cate’s credit, she didn’t flinch at the sight of me. “Oh, Ruby…” She said with a tone like I was a stray cat ready to be put down. She reached out, and gingerly lifted my hand to get a better look at my arm.

“Press on it.” She handed me a towel, and sat down on the bench before patting the empty space beside her, motioning for me to join her.

I did as she said as she tore open a paper package. “This is going to hurt a little…” She gently dabbed the fabric square on my wounds, and I hissed out of reflex. I hated this. I hated showing her my weakness, and I guessed, in a weird way, she understood that. She didn’t comment on any of it, only continued to wrap my arms up in silence.

“There.” When she’s done, both of my forearms were wrapped entirely in gauzes.

“Th…thank you.” I managed to choke out.

She gave me a tender smile. “Don’t mention it.” She stood up, collecting the empty packages off the bench, and turned to leave.

Before she was out of the door, however, she turned around, and said, “You know, you get those wounds together, and you heal together, too.” She paused for a second, “You’re…not entirely helpless in this situation.”

Ten minutes after she left, I was still sitting on that bench, pondering her words. I didn’t even know what she said was true, but if it was, it meant that when I took care of myself, I took care of him, too. That, somehow, didn’t seem so bad.

I wondered how Cate knew that. She and Rob were clearly not soulmates, and I didn’t even know why she would want to date him, even without considering that fact. Rob—ruthless, arrogant, hateful—was everything opposite to what she seemed to hold dear.

But then again, she probably didn’t understand why someone would find their soulmate only to let them go on their own.

That day when I let Liam go, I made a decision that I would be whoever the League wants me to be, and make it so that they wouldn’t miss him. And for the longest time, I had kept to that promise. But not today, not now.

I just want to be myself again, even if it’s just for a moment.

So I brushed open the curtain to the stall, and allowed myself to be vulnerable again, for everyone and no one to see.

+++

His eyes traveled from my face to where the water had collected on my chest, and I raised my arms just that much higher.

His mouth half-opened for what I was sure to be a snide remark, but whatever it was never managed to pass his lips. His face froze, brows drew together, and he reached out. Before I could shift away—to where though, I had no idea; my back was already against the wall—he grabbed my wrist, and lifted my arm.

“It was you.” Cole said with a tone of half astonishment, half…anger?

“What was?” I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to hide how much I felt like a kid being caught red-handed, stealing candy bars.

He threw me a “really?” look. “Don’t insult my intelligence.” He snapped, “These are Liam’s, aren’t they?”

I almost asked “how do you know”, but that would confirm his suspicion. “What makes you say that?” I asked instead.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not playing games with you.” He huffed, “Soulmates should stick together. What were you thinking sending him out into the wild? Do you have any idea how dangerous he is to you? Or you to him? The poor bastard doesn’t even know you exist!”

“And as long as I stay in the League, that fact shall remain.” I said, more resolute and calmer than I thought possible.

He blew out a sigh of exasperation. “Look, I don’t care what kind of sainthood complex you have going on, I’m telling you—you are not doing either of you any favors, and if you think this is somehow a good idea, I beg you, think again, because you definitely look smarter than this.”

“What do you know?” I retorted, finally couldn’t keep the lid on my anger anymore. “Do you have any idea how much he hates it here? How hard he was trying to avoid this place before you drag him into this mess?”

Cole really laughed. “You think I don’t know?” He raised an eyebrow at me, and I met his glare head on. “I was the one that let him go when he got away that first time.” He tried to brush his hair back with his hand, but it gave out a weird flex before he could reach his head. “And I’ve seen enough soulmates pairs in my life to know that I never want one. Have you any idea what would happen to him if you were injured when he was on the run? Soulmates stick together so they don’t double their chances on dying, but I guess no one ever set your logic straight, did they?”

My head was so flushed with anger that I actually let him finished.

“Go find him.” Cole snapped. “And for Christ’s sake, stay together this time.”

+++

Liam

“I didn’t need freedom; I needed you!” I half-screamed, trying to get the frustration out past the chaos raging in my head. How could I—? How could she—? What the hell—?

On the receiving end of my scream, Ruby’s face was painted with grief, lined with tears that almost made my anger buckle. Almost.

“Did you just…not want to be with me anymore?” Facing her silence, my pain came out softer eventually. Please, just tell me, and I will leave you alone.

“No…” She choked out. “I… I was wrong.” She swallowed hard before continuing, and despite the anger still roaming my vein, I wanted to reach out and touch her. “We should…we should stay together. I knew I couldn’t bear to see you with the League, see them take away all the good in you that I love…”

“Is that how you think of me?” I snapped before I realized what I was doing, “That I am so weak that the League is bound to break me?”

“No!” She shook her head violently, “No, I don’t think you are weak… If anything, I think you are much stronger than me. But I was weak.” She finally looked back at me, her green eyes gleaming in the dim light of this dust-covered room. “I’m so sorry.”

Before I could react to what she said—I didn’t even know what I was going to say or do—the sound of a gunshot broke every single thought clean out of my head.

Ruby was running before I could do anything about it. She pushed the door of the shop open, and another shot blew open the window on the outside, shattering the glass all over the floor.

“Ruby!” I shouted as I dodged, crouching with my hands over my ears, but she was already up and running again, out of the door and behind the woman that was escaping the scene—with a gun in her hands.

“Ruby, stop!” I shouted again, got on my feet to catch her, but I never manage. I skidded on the broken glass, and fell, hands first, into the shards.

I heard her hiss. She stopped dead on her way, and whirled around to find me on the floor, holding my right hand on my laps, pressing it against the fabric of my jeans to try and stop the bleeding.

The blood was dripping down to her fingers. As she walked slowly towards me, the red, looking almost black, dropped on the dust-covered floor, leaving a spotting route, marking her path. When she knelt down beside me, finally close enough to touch me, I found that she was smiling. A totally mirthless, wry and painful smile.

“Give me your hand.” She said softly, almost like a whisper.

“You should treat yours first.” I said, trying to catch her hand, to see how much of a damage I’d done.

“We only need to treat one of us.” She let out a small breath, almost like something caught there. “We get them together, and we heal them together, too.”

That, somehow, broke through all the mess in my head and reached my mind. I let her take my arm, and carefully wrap her scarf on my hand, all the while her words played on repeat in my head.

We get them together, and we heal them together, too.

When she was done wrapping my hand up, the wounds on her hand stopped bleeding, too. I didn’t know why—I wasn’t even completely over that anger or frustration—but when she placed her hand in mine, a tender “there” escaping her lips, all I wanted to do was kiss her.

Instead, I gently enveloped my fingers around her hand. “There.” I said, pressing my good hand over hers.

And we stayed in that silent, that touch, just a little while longer.

+++

[thedeathdoctor]

Kinktober Day 5: Blood Play

Blood Play - Halloween: Michael Meyers x Reader

Guardian Demon

Tw for Breaking and Entering, Being held at gunpoint

It was ten past two in the morning when you pulled your 2003 Altima into the driveway. Fucking Steve. Ever since he had started as manager, your store had been pathetically understaffed. He never stuck around past four and never saw how long closing duties took. It was just you and Allison now, because “we don’t really need three people in here when we don’t get that many customers, anyway”. 

You shoved your work apron into your purse laying on the passenger seat before dragging yourself out of the car. Everything felt heavy, and your keys dangled limply in your hand. A thought resurfaced in your weary head: the pothole you had hit on your way to work because the assholes wouldn’t let you merge over to avoid it. It sounded expensive, but you had managed to get home, so you just gave a quick glance at it. You weren’t much of a car person, and it was dark; you’d look at it again in the morning. 

Leaning against the peeling paint of your side door, you fit the key in the lock, and found it unlocked. What? Maybe you had forgotten to lock up when you rushed to work this afternoon. Henry had called out for the third day in a row, and they had called you to come in earlier to cover for him. You didn’t want to, but you had to. The shitty washer that came with the unit had broken, and your landlord had refused to take care of it because clearly you had misused it in order for that to happen. A contractor had come out to fix it yesterday; the work was expensive,  he unsettled you in a way you couldn’t place, and in the middle of it all Steve called to ask where you were. He seemed to forget how you told him, to his face, three times, “I won’t be in on Wednesday, do not schedule me,” and still his chicken nugget sized brain forgot and expected you to come in. 

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind of the work fuckery from your head like an Etch-a-Sketch. It took up enough real estate in your head as is. 

Snacks. 

You dropped your purse on the mess of mail that covered your kitchen table. It would be sorted later. For now, you took your phone with you and rummaged through the cabinets, finding the box of Goldfish you had bought Monday. You padded into the living room, settling down into the couch. Though you lived alone, you had slept here for the past few nights on account of clutter spread over your bed. Well, it was mostly organized. Monday you had found the least sketchiest laundromat in your fifteen mile radius for the three weeks of laundry built up while you fought with your landlord. After all, there was a finite amount of times you could handle rewearing your work clothes before the thought of having to pay for laundry became begrudgingly tolerable. 

The waist of your pants cut into your waist, and you stripped them off and threw them towards the stairs with a growl. Your bra was next, and soon you were comfortable in your tank top and underwear. It had also been an embarrassing amount of time since you had vacuumed the floor, so your socks stayed on to keep your feet clean. 

“Honey, if you ever need help, I can always come over and clean with you. It’s really no problem for me.” 

Your mom’s voice reappeared in your head, kind and soothing. Truth was, you needed help, but couldn’t bring yourself to accept her offer. It was out of mercy. You didn’t want her to come over and see for herself how you, her precious daughter was really doing. She worried for you enough as is, and anyway, you were doing just fine, no need for her to see the bottles that frequently piled up in the yellow bin next to the door or the refrigerator that didn’t hold much excluding the condiments on the door, or the condition of your bathroom sink. You spared her the worry she would feel if she knew. Anyway, you could handle it, all you needed was another day off to take care of everything, two at max. 

Turning on the tv, you chose a random episode of Criminal Minds to watch to distract your brain. It had been your comfort show since you started watching it in 2011, and it filled the otherwise quiet space of the house. You apathetically ate a handful of Goldfish before folding the box back up and letting it drop on the ground. That wasn’t it. Occasionally, lights drifted across the interior of your house, headlights drifting in from the living room window as the occasional car passed by. 

A loud crash shocked you awake from the doldrums of half-sleep. Your eyes shot open as your heart revved from 0 -100, realizing that the sound came from upstairs. Fuck. There were footsteps now. Scrambling to find your phone to call 911, your heart sunk as the screen flickered to life for just enough time to blink its “low battery” icon at you before giving up. You did have a .357, but one too many nights with the bottle led you to disassemble it as much as you could and shove the pieces into a shoebox at the back of your closet, if only for your mom’s sake. 

You listened with bated breath as the footsteps reached the top of the stairs and began to descend. Every single muscle in your body did not reply, even as your mind screamed for you to run. You were frozen to the couch. 

A man, partially dressed in a dirty work coverall tied around the waist at the bottom of a grimy undershirt strode aggressively over to you. A black ski mask hid his face, but you could see his eye twitch as he raised the Glock in his hand to your face. His voice was strained and rough as he questioned you.

“WHERE ARE THEY??” 

“Where is what?” 

You didn’t have much of value at all, the most expensive thing that you had to your name was the Altima sitting outside and that was only $6,000 when you bought it a few years ago. 

“PILLS, SMARTASS. DON’T LIE TO ME. I SAW THE EMPTY BOTTLES. WHERE DO YOU KEEP THEM?” 

Oh. Truth be told, you didn’t have any left. All you had ever really taken was your Adderall XR and Zoloft. The empty Adderall bottle sat pathetically on your dresser, reminding you of the last time you had been able to afford the copay the pharmacy demanded. As for the Zoloft, well, your psychiatrist would keep refilling it as long as you kept showing up to her regular appointments, and the spontaneity of work had made it damn near impossible to keep an appointment with her. So it had been at least a few days since you had tried to taper off of them yourself. But you were unmedicated and well beyond tired, so you responded rather dumbly. 

“I don’t have any more. They’re gone. Sorry.” 

He didn’t react well to that, gritting his teeth and kicking over a folding chair that left a rather large hole in the drywall. Your fucking landlord would have a field day haranguing you for those damages. 

The side door that you had taken care to lock swung open violently, knocking over the bottles perched on the top of the pile in the recycling bin. Heavy footsteps strode through the kitchen and another man appeared behind the first intruder.

“HEY WHAT THE FUC-”

He was cut off as he was violently disarmed, gun clattering to the floor as a blade slashed through every tendon in his arm. Then, his body flew across the room and crashed head first into the Walmart bookshelf and the few books you had left with a horrific crunch. He was crumpled in a way that no human should ever be, and still the other man kneeled and plunged his knife between his ribs, ventilating his body as you would a frozen microwavable meal. And then slowly, stood up and turned to face you. 

He was impossibly tall, looming over the man who had tried to rob you; like him, he was also dressed in a coverall, bluish grey and relatively cleaner aside from the blood splashed across the front. His head was covered too, by one of those rubbery Halloween costume masks that people wear and pretend to be a serial killer or something. Matthew, or maybe Michael? You glanced over at the mutilated corpse at his feet, and the real, actual knife in his hand, still dripping with blood. You didn’t think he was pretending.

You cowered in the corner of the couch, your knees pulled up as close to your chin as possible, shaking uncontrollably. He walked closer to you, stretching out his free hand, and for some reason beyond your understanding, you took it. Your legs trembled like those of a newborn fawn, but you stayed up, mostly due to his hidden strength. Together, you both made your way over to the dead body, letting you collapse to your knees next to it. He dipped the tip of the knife into the man’s blood and brought it to your face. A scream died in your throat as he grabbed your jaw and steadied you as the blade traced over your forehead and cheekbones, painting you with the blood of his kill. On your stomach, he marked you with a simple “MM”. Michael Meyers. You were his. 

When he was done, he pressed you to the floor on your back and stripped you of your tank top and panties with a few quick flicks of his knife. His hands worked the jumpsuit zipper down as he shed his clothing and towered over you. He stroked his cock lazily, enjoying the look on your face as you realized that he wanted to put it deep in you. You were his and he was going to consummate your partnership, right here, right now.

He spread your legs and kneeled between them. It had been a while since you last had any kind of sexual encounter, but the patch of curls was of no consequence to him. Blood slicked his fingers, and you were surprised how expertly the pad of his thumb found your clit, kneading you to orgasm in spite of the horror you had just witnessed. Perfect.

He teased you, running his fingertips up and down your vulva until your hands urged him to get on with it. That was a mistake. He snapped your hands together and held you firmly by your wrists with his free hand. Punishment for being too impatient. Two fingers found your entrance before suddenly plunging into you as deep as they could. Your gasp satisfied him and he returned his thumb to your clit as his fingers pistoned into you at a punishing pace. 

The second orgasm crashed through your body, your arms weakly trembling against his fierce grip as you screamed out in pleasure. When your eyes returned to him, the submission he saw drove him mad with desire. He gripped your hips so hard, you were sure that you would see bruises in the morning, and slid you onto his cock, hissing softly as he entered you. God, he spread you apart like no one ever had before. 

You weren’t the most petite person in the world, but to him and his strength, you may as well have been. He slammed you against him, your thighs stinging as they met his hips, fucking you as if you were a filthy toy, a cocksleeve for him to use as he wanted, whenever he wanted. He paused for a moment, sliding his hands up under your back and supporting you with his arms as he stood up, still inside you. Your thighs wrapped around his waist, feeling the muscles in his torso and ass flex against you. His hips thrust up into you as he held you up in the air, gravity working alongside his powerful body as he ravaged you. Moans dribbled from your mouth as most of your upper body went limp. The back of your head crashed against the wall, but you didn’t care, your body was flooded in ecstasy as you came over and over, writhing in his arms and twitching helplessly around his cock. His fingernails dragged long, deep scratches along your back that smeared and stained the wall with blood as he pressed you against it, his breaths deep, panting, heavy with lust. 

Time lost all meaning to you as he broke you down to a sopping, quivering mess in his arms. It seemed he was intent on folding you in half and pressing you against the wall before his breaths hitched and pulled you as close as he physically could to him. His hips bucked involuntarily as he came deep into you, filling you with copious spurts of his cum. It took on a pinkish tone as it mixed with the blood from earlier, dripping from where your hips met. You were spent, falling asleep before he had let the both of you fall ever so gently to the floor, letting you rest on top of his chest. 

[ehud1564]

The Dragon's early awakening

Introduction, part 1

Summary: Kagami joins Fransua Dupont Highschool. Meaning for Marinette that a new girl is in Adrien’s general field of view, and in front of Marinette. How will she react to it? Will she and Kagami be friends? Will she learn a lesson?

Also posted on fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13926798/1/The-Dragon-s-early-awakening

And here's the google doc I'm working on so you can see how I'm progressing: https://docs.google.com/document/d/18T5_-_GYRtF940AJAzyJpT-t6uVQUQyCyyu3EcFeExc/edit?usp=sharing

Kagami woke up at 6:30 AM. She immediately got up from her bed, heading to the shower. Her mind was racing with meaningless thoughts, as it always was in the morning. She was awake enough to shower but not much else. She had a quick shower and quickly got dressed. After this preparation Kagami sat down on her bed and started mentally preparing for the day ahead of her.

Today is her first day in a new school. After she managed to join Mr. Darjencourt’s fencing group, her mother signed her up to a school and bought them a house. It seems they will be moving to Paris permanently.

Her mother was rich enough that they could spontaneously move to Paris, and still keep their house in Japan. Kagami didn’t know how her mother was so rich. She knew her family was always known as rich and famous. But she wasn’t sure how they got there or what they did except fencing.

She knew that while her mother could own multiple houses, most people could not. Some people couldn’t even have one house. She made sure to donate all the money she can get hold off. But it wasn’t much. She was very limited in what she could get. She tried to sell one of the house decorations once, thinking her mother wouldn’t notice because of her blindness. She got beaten and heavily scolded. Since then she never tried selling anything her mother owned. She tried selling her fencing equipment and got a similar result.

Her alarm clock signaled it’s time for breakfast. The personal chef made her a simple meal of Eggs on whole wheat toast, and gave her some yogurt and a few fruits. Kagami made sure to thank him, but mostly focused on her thoughts.

There is one person she knows in Fransua Dupont. And that is Adrien Agreste. The fencer she had to defeat in order to join the group. She hopes she��ll be able to make more friends. But she could only hope.

After eating her breakfast, She put on a coat and took out her bag to go for a morning jog, packing extra clothes in her bag to change. She went through the jog and kept trying to mentally prepare herself.

She ran through different scenarios through what could be when she gets to school. She knew the classes in Fransua Dupont were small. Small enough for her to be very noticeable, but big enough to be very draining to Kagami.

Kagami was never good at interacting with other people. She found interacting with a few people at once hard and draining.

After 15 minutes of running, she reached the school and went to her class. She sat down at a table, and started reviewing her schedule. She was completely alone in the class, having reached the school so early, 45 minutes before the first period started.

She checked her schedule again and reviewed the lesson she had for today. Even though her mother is pretty strict, she doesn't care about Kagami’s grades much. She only sees school as a waste of time for Kagami. Because of that Kagami doesn't work too hard in school, and it doesn't cause her stress.

Kagami is mostly a source of rest and fun for Kagami. Even if she isn’t good at the subject, she can take her time. And it gives her time without her mother. She likes being without her mother. No expectation, she doesn't have to be perfect.

It’s not that she didn’t like her mother. But being next to her makes her miserable. It was why she woke up at 6:30, to get out of the house before her mother woke up.

A student has arrived to the class. He wore a green shirt and glasses. “Oh, hello.”. Kagami replied “Hi” with an awkward smile.”Are you searching for a place to be alone? If so, I’ll recommend you use the library. I have a lesson here soon.” The student asked. “No, this is my homeroom class. Though I appreciate the suggestion. I’m new here so...”

“A new student! Nice to meet you! My name is Max Kante!” He put his hand forward. “Kagami Tsurugi. I apologize but I do not shake hands.” She said. “That’s OK. So what school are you from?”

“I’ve been homeschooled for a while, and I’ve been through plenty of schools.” Kagami replied, fishing in her mind to see if she remembers the last school she was in. “Well that’s interesting! Why were you moving?” Max tried to pull a conversation. “Me and my mother are looking for a fencing school for me. We’ve been through plenty of schools, but we haven’t found one that proved a challenge. That’s why we came here. I now learn Fencing in Mr. Darjencourt’s group, which runs in the Gym of this school, led by Mr. D'argencourt.”

“Ooh nice! Why here specifically?” Max questioned, proud for developing a conversation. “Well we were told this place was the best. And it held out better than the others.” Kagami responded. “Not by much though”.

A new student entered the class room, he wore a red Jacket and a few Sweatbands. “Hi Max! Hi… I don’t think we’ve met!” Kim called excitedly.

“This is Kagami Tsurugi! She’s a new student in our classroom!” Max filled him in.

“Hi.” she called.

“I’m Kim!, very nice to meet you!!” He gives her his hand, which she refuses. “You too Kim”.

“So you fence! That’s a sport right?” Kim asked excitedly. “Yes.” Kagami replied. “Awesome! Another Athlete!! Woo!!! That’s so cool!!” Kim cheered.

“Yeah,” She said awkwardly. She doesn't know how to handle someone as excited and friendly as Kim. No mental preparation prepared her for that. She should have got there later. Maybe she would have been more prepared if she didn’t get before everyone.

Max and Kim started conversing between themselves thankfully. Max was talking about a video game with Kim. Kagami opened her phone to the Making friend apps, trying to figure out what she is going to do.

A new student entered the class, a red head who wore an orange shirt, holding a sketchbook. She prayed he would leave her alone and he did. Instead he began sketching. How much time was left before class? She checked her phone and it was much more than she expected. She didn’t properly appreciate how bad it will be to get to class so early.

If only she could distract herself. But she can’t and she feels very awkward. She wonders what the boy is drawing. She loves to draw, but asking him seems very risky. She thought she might draw, but the room dosen’t feel private enough for that.

Another student entered the room. A girl with purple highlights in her hair. She sat down behind Max, making no comments of her.

Soon later a group of 4 people entered the room. A boy who wore a black shirt with a skull on it, a girl with a green sweater with pins on it,A girl with pink hair and a green pattern throughout her sleeves, and a blonde girl wearing a pink dress. “Oh hello! Nice to meet you!! I’m rose!!” The blonde girl cheered enthusiastically.

“You’re kind of in my seat” Said the boy wearing a skull sign.

“Yeah sure sorry I’ll go.” Kagami got up and sat one chair ahead of the chair she was in.

“So what’s your name?” Asked the girl with the pins. “I am Mylene”

“Ivan” the boy added.

“I’m Alix” Said the girl with pink hair.

“Hello. My name is Kagami.”

“Nice to meet you Kagami!” Rose cheered before going to sit next to the girl with highlights in her hair.

“A little warning, this seat also belongs to someone. The only available places are next to Nathaniel, and next to me.” Said Ivan, pointing to the sketching boy.

“Hmm?” Nathaniel hums as the sound of his name.

“Do not sit next to nathaniel. Nathaniel is terrible!” Alix said loudly.

“I’m right here. I can hear you.” Nathaniel said despretly.

“Yeah that’s part of the point!” Alix shouted at him.

“What did he do?” Kagami asked, somewhat curious. What could have caused such a reaction.

“He made a comic of him saving one of our classmates from Akumas, and then of that classmate falling in love with him in that comic. The classmate knew none of it and didn’t give him any permission.” Ivan explained.

"Then he made a comic of Ladybug falling in love with an Akumatized version of him!" Kim added.

“That’s bad.” Kagami replied. “What’s an Akuma? And who's Ladybug?” She asked.

“You’re new in town?” questioned Millene.

“Somewhat, yes.” Kagami Answered.

“Wait just one minute!” Max said and opened his phone. After a few seconds of messing with it, he said "Come here!”. Kagami went to stand next to him and he gave him her phone.

“She explains it better than any of us can! I’d say she’s somewhat the expert." Alix added seeing the video. Mylene and Alix went to talk in their seet, and Ivan opened his own phone in his seat.

Kagami pressed play, and the video started. There was a short musical intro, and then a girl appeared on screen. She wore glasses and had red hair. “What’s up, Peeps! It’s Alya Cesire, bringing you the one and only Ladyblog! If you're planning to move to Paris, this video is a must watch!” The girl in the Video, Alya, said with excitement.

I already moved. Maybe I should have done my homework. Kagami thought to herself. to be fair, I didn't think we'd actually move here.

“If you ever visit Paris, most likely you’ll come across an Akumatized supervillain.” Alya said as she lost her enthusiasm.3 pictures of people appeared on screen. One girl with dark Red hair and the Wireless symbol on a black shirt labeled “Lady Wifi”. Another, a muscled man wearing a black shirt and golden jewelry Labeled “The Pharaoh”. The last one, A woman with green skin and red hair Labeled “Befana”.

“Akumatized villains, often shortened to just Akumas, are created when someone feels an extreme negative emotion. When you experience an extreme negative emotion in Paris, A supervillain named Hawk Moth can send an Akuma-” A picture of a black butterfly appeared on screen ”'-a corrupted butterfly, to you. The butterfly can enter an Object of yours, and will allow Hawkmoth to speak to you and corrupt you. He will give you superpowers, and his corruption will make you want to hurt others.”

“But, when Hawkmoth first Attacked, two heroes came to save us!” Alya said, regaining her excitement. And a picture of two people appeared on screen. One was wearing A red bodysuit with Polka dots, and was Labeled “Ladybug”. The other wore a black suit and had a bell on his neck, and was labeled “Chat Noir”.

Kagami remembers Ladybug. She met her in the Louvre after… Something... happened. Probably something that has something to do with an Akumatized Villain then. That explains it somewhat.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir rose to fight Hawkmoth, they can save the Akumatized people, release the butterflies from Hawkmoth’s control, and undo the Damage the Akuma did to Paris.” A clip of Ladybug throwing a parachute with the same pattern as her suit plays. It turns into a swirl of Ladybugs all over the place, who started fixing things.

Neet

“Since then, Hawkmoth is trying to get the Heroes’ Jewelry. That became the main target of most of his Akumatized villains. We’re not sure what he can do with them, though I have several theories on my Ladyblog!” Alya explained.

"If you decide to move to Paris anyway, or if you’re interested in Any more detailed explanation, consider giving my Ladyblog a visit! It has everything you need to know, and so much more! For example, the ladyblog has: Akuma Alerts, a Chat to talk to people close to the fight, clips from past fights, clips from current fights if I happen to be there, Personal theories and so much more! Support me on Patreon! Hope I’ll see you on the Ladyblog! Ladyblogger out!” Three links appeared on the videos, one to her Patreon, one to the Ladyblog, and another to the introduction page.

“So, any Questions?” Max asked Kagami.

“I’m not sure yet.” Kagami answered hesitantly, and gave him his phone back..

‘Well I’ll send a link to the Ladyblog, so you can learn more on your own. I’m sure you can also Ask Alya yourself, if you have any questions!” Max said.

ha? she thought.

“Ask me what?” The girl from the Video, Alya, was standing in the door, with a boy wearing a blue shirt with an eye on it, and had earphones hanging on his neck.

oh. She also goes here.

“Hi Alya! We have a new student coming from out of town! So we showed her your video to show her what are Akumas!!” Kim said, as Alya walked towards her.

“Neet!” Alya said, and turned to Kagami. “Hi. I’m Alya. So where are you from?”

“I'm from Japan."

"Oh nice!! Why did you move?"

"For Darjencourt's fencing team."

"Ooh you're a fencer?! That's so cool!! You're probably very serious if you moved just for a fencing group. So are you happy with the group?" Alya asked with excitement.

As Alya and Kagami started their conversation, Max called to The boy “Hey Nino! I'm working on something new, do you wanna check it out?”.

“Hell yeah dude!! Coming right up!” Nino replied enthusiastically, and made his way to stand next to Max.

"It's OK. Better than most groups I've been too, but not great. I might have found someone that is equal to me." Kagami replied to Alya.

“What dose that mean? And who is that?” Alya asked.

Kagami started elaboratinh “This boy was the only one who had ever came close to defeating me. I have been through countless fencing schools, and no one has ever came as close as him. His name is Adrien Agreste, He told-"

“Why are you talking about my Adrikins?” A blonde girl wearing a yellow Jacket yelled at Kagami. Next to her stood a redhead girl wearing glasses and a sweater with purple green and black.

"Fuck off Chloe!!" Alya yelled at the blonde girl. The sudden swear took Kagami by complete surprise.

Her name is Chloe. It's starting to become harder to remember all of their names.

"The audacity! How dare you speak to me in such foul language!! Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous!!" Chloe yelled at Alya.

"Anyway, you loser need to stay away from MY Adrikins" Chloe shouted at Kagami and placed her finger on Kagami's chest.

That girl knows Adrien

Kagami wanted to knock Chloe at a table. She doesn't handle being touched well. But she doesn't want to get in trouble. The last time a similar event happened, Kagami couldn't be at school for two full weeks. She had to spend them all with her mother, who put her under very intense training. She tried her best to ignore her.

"Oh shut up. You're the only loser here Adrien isn't yours and you're harassing the new student. Go away or I'll make you!" Alya stepped in.

The door opened and in came Adrien? So they are in the same class. Now she knows that everyone are friendly enough and she won't need him. But they're too friendly, and Kagami has somewhat of a problem dealing with their energy. She supposed she'll adjust eventually. If she can stay here long enough.

"Adrikins! This new loser was talking about you!! Put her in her place." Chloe told Adrien in her sweet voice.

"Oh, Hi Kagami. Didn't know you were moving to the same class as I am."

"Hi." She said unenthusiastically.

"Oh, your name is Kagami! I admit I forgot to ask! Sorry!" Alya apologized to Kagami. "That's a really nice name! What are you named after?"

"Hello everyone! How are you this day?" A red haired lady with a cyan coloured jacket. Said standing next to the teacher's table.

"Talk to you later Kagami!" Alya said sitting in the seat ahead of Ivand.

"I'm here! I'm here!" A girl with blue hair and a gray jacket ran through the door. Kagami recognised that girl as Adrien's friend, who also tried out to the fencing group, and greatly misjudged her.

She shouldn't have been given responsibility as a referee. She did what she could with what she knew. In retrospect, it wasn’t her fault.

"Hello Marinette you're right on time! I was just about to introduce the new student!" Mrs Bustier said to the girl as she went to sit. Alya went to sit next to her, and Nino went to the seat ahead of Alya. Adrien sat next to him.

"Please be a dear and come here Kagami" Kagami obliged to The teacher's request. “This is our new student, Kagami Tsurugi! She came to us from Japan, for a fencing group! I hope we all give her a nice welcome! I am Caline Bustier, and you can call me Mrs. Bustier.”

Mrs. Bustier. That’s her name.

“Sit next to Ivan please! Ivan, please raise your hand so Kagami will know who you are.” Ivan raised his hand. Kagami already knew who he was. She went to the seet to his right. She would have much preferred to sit closer to the forng. She sat down next to him and took out her glasses.

A literature lesson has started. They started studying a new piece, so Kagami could follow the less. Kagami was not good at reading between the lines, and understanding Metaphors. She wrote everything down on her tablet.

The lesson felt longer than she expected it to feel. But eventually it ended. They had a short breakfast break. "Catch you later Marinette!" Alya told and got up from her seat. Kagami took out an apple from her bag and ate it slowly.

"Hey Kagami, want to go with me to the Cafeteria?" Alya asked. "I still have a lot to talk to you about! And alot to ask you!"

Kagami stood up and said "Lead the way please Alya." Knowing where the Cafeteria is might come handy. Kagami isn't planning to buy food from the Cafeteria,she preferred to bring food from home. That way, she'll be able to donate more of her allowance. She started following Alya, as she led her to the Cafeteria.

"Give me your phone number so I can add you to the class group chat." Kagami gave Alya her number, and she saved her number. She fiddled with her phone a little, and Kagami got a notification.

"Well, where were we before the lesson? Oh yes! You said you tried a lot of fencing terms, but they disappointed you? Which ones did you try into?” Alya initiated a conversation.

“A few. We’ve tried pretty much every famously good fencing school there was. It's wierd that the one we settled on was running on a school's gym." Kagami responded and took another bite off her apple.

"Here we are, the Cafeteria! Do you want to buy something?" Alys asked Kagami as she stood in line.

"No thank you. I ate breakfast and I brought food from home." She responded. She took another bite and she was getting close to finish the apple. She stood next to Alya in line.

"You can go sit at a table if you want! You don't have to stay waiting with me!" She didn't know where or why to sit.

"Kagami! Hi!" Adrien called out to her. "I have something to talk to you about. Can we go to the library for a few minutes?"

The library. Max said it's a good place to be alone, and seeing places of the school is good.

But what did Adrien want to talk to her about? That sounds weird.

"OK. Lead the way." Adrien grabbed her hand, and started leading her. She didn't feel great with that. But she didn't know how to politely ask him to let go.

Marinette watched the scene taking place in front of her from her table. Adrien came up to Kagami and started dragging her somewhere. She slowly stood out and followed them, doing her best to stay hidden. She had to hear what they were talking about. She couldn’t let Adrien be alone with Kagami. She followed them to the library, and hid behind a bookshelf.

"Since your new here at school, I thought we'd review the material you missed!" Adrien said to Kagami. His father told him he intends to do business with Kagami's mother, and so he has to be Kagami's friend.

"Alright. So what should we review than?" Kagami responded. She wasn't sure they had time for that, the first break wasn't that long.

"Since the next lesson is Math, we should review it first. There'll be an Algebra test next lesson, but I don't know if you will take it. Since you're a new student and all. But let's start with Algebra incase you do!" Adrien responded and took out his Algebra book. "Take out your Algebra book and let's begin!" They started reviewing the material.

Kagami was quite good at Algebra, and she was aware of that. Adrien was impressed with her but she thought the way he was impressed was weird. He was impressed with everything and made her break down the exercises to too many small steps. As if she can't make larger steps. Like she's a child who's expected to know absolutely nothing about Algebra. She knew Algebra damn it! She didn't like it very much. Maybe she'd find someone else to review the material with her.

Adrien was surprised with Kagami's skill, but was unimpressed. He pretended to be though, pretended to be proud of her so she would like him. He was honestly bored out of his mind.

Marinette was in terror watching the study session. Kagami turned out to be great at Algebra and it seemed Adrien was very impressed! Almost as if he's… flirting? This can't be happening!!!!! She started spiralising.

She had to do something about her. Something to keep her away from her Adrien. Something. But what?

If she could get her away from the school, than she'll leave Adrien alone. Or at least she won't be in front of her. She can try and get her in trouble with the school.

For that she'll need to impersonate her, and the best way to do that. Was to get her phone.

Marinette used the same trick as she did with Lila. She used a bookcart to get close enough to them slowly, and than threw a few books at a shelf to distract them. She had enough time for her to get Kagami's phone, hide it in her perse, and stand us from under the table. She exchanged greetings with Adrien and went away.

She hid behind another shelf of books. Tikki came out from her perse close to her ear and asked whispering "Marinette, why did you take her phone?"

"I need to use it to get her away from Adrien!" Marinette exclaimed.

"But why? What's wrong with her being next to Adrien?" Tikki continued to question. She did somewhat know why. But if Marinette will confess it, maybe she'll see reason. Or hear how she sounds like.

"Look at her! She's so smart and pretty, and she's a good fencer! If I don't do anything about it, Adrien will fall in love with her for sure! I have to do something about it!!" Marinette said anxiously.

Tikki facepalmed and shook her head. The bell rang, and Tikki flew into Marinette's bag.

She's supposed to have an Algebra test now.

That's it! The test! She could convince the Teacher Kagami cheated on the test!! Than Kagami will be off the school for sure, and Adrien will not fall for her!

Marinette went to the classroom And sat down in her seet. Adrien and Kagami already arrived before her. The teacher walked in after Marinette. She was a tall white skinned girl with black hair. She wore a black jacket on a white shirt, and a pair of blue Jeans, black glasses, and black shoes.

“Good morning! are you all Ready for the test?” The teacher asked.

“Not at all Mrs. Shamai.” Nino replied. Nino Lahife was a fairly average student. He was OK at Math, his grades were never good, but never raised concerns. He was pretty much OK in all fields equally.

"Don't worry Nino! I'm sure you'll do great!" Alya cheered him on. Alya Cesire was not a good student, but Mrs. Shamai really appreciated her, mainly because of the Ladyblog. If Alya spent half as much on school as she does on the Ladyblog, she'd probably be the best student in class, Maybe even the school. But than, Paris wouldn't have the Ladyblog. And that'd be a catastrophe for everyone.

So she sometimes cheats the system a little in Alya's favour. She lets her get away with not doing homework, she judges her tests softer. Alya is doing so much for Paris, so she does that for her.

"Hey Mrs." A student called. She doesn't recognize her. Oh! She's probably the new student.

"Hello there! Are you new? My name is Michal Shamai! And what's yours?" Well what is she going to do with her now. Obviously she can't take the test. She'll have to speak to her after class to see how much she knows and schedule private lessons to cover what she doesn't.

"My name is Kagami Tsurugi." Kagami replied trying to stand out.

"Well it's lovely to meat you Kagami! We have a test today, but you'll take it another time. Take one test so you can see what we learned so far and you can go on break. I'll need to talk you after the test, OK?" Michal told Kagami, doing her best to be bright and accepting.

"OK." Kagami took a copy of the test, and left.

Marinette found that pleasing. Kagami now has the means to cheat. If only she could get out, she could send the answers to the test from Kagami's phone, and make everyone think it's Kagami.

"Everyone turn of your phones. If you need to have it on, put it on my desk." Adrien and Max stood up and put their phone on her desk.

Adrien always needed to have his phone on and ready to take calls. She knows he has a busy life and was expected to disappear any minute.

As a student, he was a good student. She didn't like him, cause he was a rich boy. But she couldn't deny that his grades were always good. From what she seems of him, it's not like he has a knack for it. It seems he just has good teachers and high expectations.

Max used to give his phones to her on tests, to avoid distractions as he once told her. It was always off. He was a good student, he had quite a skill for Algebra. She liked him too, he was very nice.

They both sat down and Michal gave out the tests one by one. By her orders everyone turned over the test and started.

Marinette started the test, and started doing it as fast she could. Skipping questions, not really doing everything. After ten minutes, she stood up and gave Mrs. Shamai the test.

"Are you sure Marinette?" Mrs. Shamai asked her. Marinette was very bad at Algebra, and got easily confused. Her grades were very low. Watching her give the test so early means she probably gave up. That felt wrong with her.

"Positive!" Marinette said.

"Please try more." Mrs. Shamai requested. She saw the test and it was almost empty. "If you really can't, we can schedule a private lesson and go over it. Ok?"

Marinette knew she couldn't escape that. Maybe if she'll take it, she'll have an opportunity to raise her grade. "OK" she answered and got out of the classroom.

It was time for her to execute her plan. She started first by going to the Teacher's Lounge, and secretly looking in Mrs. Shamai's locker. She found another copy of the test and started searching for Kagami. Fortunately she found her in the same table she had the study session with Adrien.

She used one of the free algebra apps and inputted the questions from the test. She opened Kagami's phone. Who'd she send the answers to? Everyone. The more the better, the more chance of Mrs. Shamai finding it.

She copied the first answer into the message and sent. She patiently waited, checking every chat window if the message was read. Most of them haven't received the message, but Adrien received it, so she stuck to him. She sent the second message to everyone again, and waited patiently again.

She did it again. Now the message was shown as read. She had to act quickly. She opened YouTube through the browser on Kagami's phone, played Wind Up God from Pandora Voxx on full volume, and made her escape. She knew the song only started five seconds in the video, so she could have time to escape.

Kagami suddenly heard a very loud noise. She went to check it and found a phone playing a song. Her phone. She turned it off. How did get there? How did she not notice it was lost? She didn't think she took it out from her bag. Why was it playing that song? Was it stolen?

Mrs. Shamai was watching the class, when Adrien’s phone got a notification. She saw how everyone got distracted. Adrien can only check his phone privately if he gets a phone call. Meaning it’s very urgent. If that happens, he will leave for the day and will do the test another time.

Adrien got another notification. And another notification. “Adrien make the notifications stop. If you have to check it, show it to me so I know you don’t cheat.”

Adrien stood up and opened the phone so both he and Mrs. Shamai could see it. He got a message from Kagami? He opened the message and saw it’s conents. Mrs. Shamai gasped, and Adrien tried explaining he didn't try to cheat.

“I didn’t try to cheat! I promise! It’s not my fault! Please don’t fail me.” He begged Mrs. Shamai.

“Leave it for the principal.” Mrs. Shamai said. She called the principal and told him what happened.

Kagami heard a voice calling “Kagami Tsurugi to the principal's office”. That sounds very bad. She started spiralizing. That was very very bad.

In a different place, Hawkmoth was rejoicing. "I can feel it. The anxiety and distress of a girl who might lose everything." A butterfly landed in his hand, and he corrupted it. "Fly away my little Akuma! Wait for her anxiety to blow up, and evilise her!!"

Marinette had done it! She managed to execute her plan, and run away undetected! Now Kagami will stay away from Adrien for sure! In the corner of her eye, she saw a black butterfly. “An Akuma? Who might it be for?” She asked out loud.

“You know exactly who it’s for Marinette!!” Tikki said with anger. Obviously, she was referring to Kagami.

“Oh Please come on. There’s a Math test today. Basically everyone is upset. It can be for anyone.” Marinette said annoyed, not fully grasping the effect she had on Kagami. “We better transform.” Marinette ran to the bathroom which were luckily empty. “Tikki Spots on!”

Kagami didn’t know where the principal office was, so she had to ask many people for directions. But eventually she found it and entered to find Adrien, Mrs. Shamai, and someone else. Probably the principal.

“Young Mrs. you’re in great trouble!” He yelled at her. Adrien looked at her in a way she couldn't decipher. Mrs. Shamai was glaring. What did she do to deserve this? Why were they so angry at her? She looked down in shame.

The Akuma following Kagami had settled hiding behind her, waiting for a command from Hawkmoth.

"What happened?" Kagami asked trying to hold back tears.

"You know exactly what you've done young lady! You thought we wouldn't catch you? But we did! Mrs. Shamai saw what you sent to Adrien." The principal replied mockingly. What messages? She didn't even have his number! Was her phone stolen? Oh no! She'll get in so much trouble!

"I never sent Adrien anything!" Kagami said, panicking.

"That won't work on us now. We have evidence. Helping someone cheat? On your first day?How dare you! We are going to call your mother!" The principal told her.

Hawkmoth felt a very sudden increase in Kagami's negative feelings. "Catch her my Akuma!". The Akuma obeyed and entered Kagami's phone, clutched in her hand. Kagami's sadness and fear started to transform into burning wrath.

Adrien made a quick escape, and ran away to the Bathroom.

"Come on, can't we sit this one out? You have a Math test! And I have some perfect cheese to indulge in!" Plagg started complaining.

"No time for Cheese! Plagg, Claws Out!"

"Elemental, I am Hawkmoth! This thief thinks he can destroy your world? Well I'm giving you the power to break their world! And everyone's world! All I ask in return is Ladybug's and Cat Noir's Miraculous! Will you help me?" Hawkmoth said in his usual dramatic fashion.

"Yes, Hawkmoth." With that, Kagami became wrapped in purple, and the Principal and the teacher scrambled to escape.

[benaffleckofcrowdsurfing]

Lazerquest - part 1

Alex Turner x Reader

Chapter 1/? 

Description: you are an impulsive bartender who recently moved to London after traveling across the United States and living on the road for a few years. You befriend Alex, a musician who recently got out of a long term relationship, and you show him the ways of your free-spirited lifestyle in an attempt to help him move on from his ex. However, you become more of a muse than a friend for Alex and all is revealed when he releases his band’s fourth studio album, “Suck it and See”.

Word count: 1.7k 

Warnings: none ;)

**************

“You know, Y/N, this isn’t a terrible place to have to work,” your flat-mate, Tatiana, sighed. The two of you were sat sipping glasses of red wine at the bar of a rather bustling club in London. You couldn’t stop thinking about how six months ago if you had told yourself that you finally settled down in one spot for long enough to get a serious job and a flat with a lease for more than 6 months, you would have laughed in your own face. Although, you could say that about anything you had done as of late. Your recent life decisions had been everything but predictable. 

“I know. I’m just not thrilled to be the only female working the bar. The guys here sketch me out and I’m not too keen on getting womanized in a foreign country. That was on my mind enough as is when I was living in my parents’ house,” you joke. As lighthearted as you and Tati were being, you very much did feel uneasy. After travelling the United States for nearly 3 years after high school, you felt that you needed to move on to something bigger and more exciting, but you had never left the country before and you knew only one person here.

You had always been the spontaneous type. Your parents worried about you most of your life, as you were extremely impulsive and constantly making brash decisions. When you turned 18 and decided to take off across the country on your own instead of going to college, they were absolutely furious. You went nonetheless, what they thought had never stopped you before. Your excursion was originally only going to be a year long, but you absolutely loved being on the road. You had met so many wonderful people and seen so many wonderful things that going home never once crossed your mind. You just kept on sleeping in hotel rooms and on strangers’ couches until you turned 21.

That couldn’t last forever, though. You were getting bored of the lower 48 states, and your parents, still completely livid that you were ‘wasting’ their college money on what they saw as a cross-country bender, cut you off financially. It was an extremely stressful time, you can vividly remember searching for hours on end for roommates and jobs in Europe before meeting Tatiana and getting a bartending job in the UK. 

Now, 2 short months later, you were in London, living alone with a stranger. Luckily, though, you and Tati were getting along famously and your flat already felt like home. You were eager to start this new adventure.

Tati looked over at the clock before pouting a bit and resting her hand on your knee. “Looks like it’s time for your first day of work, love.”

“Shit. I’m nervous. Do I look okay?” You got up out of your seat and did a little spin for Tati. She squealed and gave you a hug.

“You look fantastic, love. Now go make some money!”

You smiled at your new friend and bid her farewell before walking towards the back of the club. Once you approached the door with a sign that read “EMPLOYEES ONLY”, you took a deep breath. Here we go kiddo. New job. New country. New life.

The second you placed your hand on the door, a large man barged through it. The man huffed and began to tell you that you couldn’t go into the kitchen unless you were an employee. He stopped his lecture and just smiled and when he noticed you were in the club’s uniform of a black dress, Mary Jane heels, and a red name tag, though.

“Oi! You must be Y/N, then?” He chuckled. When you shyly nodded he gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’m your manager, Chuck. Let’s get you behind the bar, shall we?”

**********************

After an hour or so of Chuck showing you where things were, how to ring people up, how to use the cash register, and making sure you actually knew how to make drinks, he left you on your own to serve customers. There were only a few stragglers left in the club as it was near closing time, and all you had done the whole night was pass out some tequila shots to a group of rowdy middle aged women and make some small talk with a man who reminded you a bit of Frank Gallagher from a show called Shameless that you used to watch back home. You were exhausted and started to clean up behind the bar so you’d have less to do when the bar closed for good. It was nearly 2 in the morning and all you wanted to do was get out of your tight ass dress and your heels. 

“What kind of work uniform is a slutty dress anyway, huh? I look like I work on the corner” you mumbled to yourself as you wiped down some glasses.

“I think you look lovely, miss,” a voice said from the corner of the bar. His accent was unlike most men in Londons’ and his voice was raspy and thick. His sudden presence startled you a bit, making you jump a bit and let out a gasp.

“Didn’t mean to creep up on yah and scare yah like that, I’m sorry.” The man chuckled. When you turned around you saw an attractive man, maybe a bit older than you, smirking at you and smoking a cigarette. He had messy hair and a tee shirt on, you thought he looked like he had just gotten out of bed. 

“You’re alright, it’s my fault for zoning out while on the clock. What can I get for you?” You smiled weakly, partially hoping he’d just order a quick drink and then get out of your hair so you could go home. 

“Well, what are you good at making?” the man asked. “I’ll take anything as long as it’s alcoholic.”

You smiled. Making drinks for friends back home had been one of your favorite things to do, and you were excited to show off your skills to an actual customer. “Well, I’ve wanted a grapefruit daiquiri since the beginning of my shift. How does that sound?”

“That sounds fantastic,” the man rubbed his hands together in excitement, “but first I’d like to know how long you’ve been in London. You sound quite American.”

Oh brother, you thought. The attractive stranger seemed to be here to stay and the idea of making conversation when you were this tired made you want to cry. If you had been any less worn-out you would’ve been more than eager to talk to him, brown eyes were always a weakness of yours and there was something particularly enticing about this boy’s, but right now you just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep. 

“Well go on then, don’t just stare off into space and leave me hanging,” the boy said.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit tired. I’ve only been here for a few days now.”

The boy was rather amused by this. “A few days? And here you are working the closing shift at one of the best bars in London? I’m going to need some more information, love. You’ve drawn me in now.” 

The boy’s excitement perked you up a bit. You had been rather proud of yourself to land a job at such a well-known club with only over-the-phone interviews, and you weren’t going to miss the opportunity to brag a bit. Especially to a cute boy.

“Yeah, I went to bartending school like right after my 21st birthday back in the states and then when I was looking for jobs here in the UK a few months ago I saw there was an opening here. I was really surprised to even have gotten an interview, especially since we had to do everything over-the-phone,” you beamed, knowing that it was impressive to get a job like this in the way you had. The boy looked at you intently while you made his drink. His eyes focused on your hands gripping the cocktail mixer and when you began to shake he had to do his best to hide a smirk. 

“You know I never caught your name,” the boy cleared his throat and broke the momentary silence. 

“You could’ve looked at my name tag,” you murmured just loud enough for him to hear and rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Well I’m sorry Miss Sassy, I find it impolite to stare at a woman’s chest without knowin’ her. Not my fault that’s where your name tag is,” the stranger chuckled, then looked closely at the red tag pinned to your dress. “It’s nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Alex.”

you did your best to hold in a giggle. Alex sounded good saying your name, his accent was rich like honey and you couldn’t help but think about how it’d sound in…other situations. 

“It’s very good to meet you, Alex, now here’s your daiquiri,” you said after pouring the contents of the shaker into a martini glass and adding a sprig of mint to the top. You slid the glass across the bar and nodded your head in satisfaction when he took his first sip and let out a little laugh.

“My goodness, Y/N, that’s a fantastic drink.”

“Thought you might like it. Now drink it quickly, it’s nearly closing time and I’ve still got to wipe down the counters and walk myself home,” you imitated pointing at a watch in your wrist.

“Walk yourself home? Love I couldn’t let you do that. Why don’t you let me finish this drink while you clean up and I’ll escort you home. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” Alex proposed. If it had been anyone else you would’ve politely declined the offer, you knew that walking with a complete stranger in the middle of the night was just as sketchy if not more so than walking alone. But something about Alex made you want to trust him. Even when he had been checking you out while you were making his drink he hadn’t been creepy, his brown eyes had a sort of innocence to them and his smile was soft. You felt comfortable with Alex, and thought his company might be nice on the walk home.

“Deal.”

“Brilliant. Now get to work, Y/N, I’ll be done with my drink before you know it.”

[gabbrolet]

He Cries In Front of You For The First Time (Hyung Line)

P.S, This is a pretty long scenario!

WARNING!: Mentions of anxiety attacks!

Kim Seokjin

You had woken up to the other side of the bed being empty. As the usual warmth of your partner was nowhere to be found, the cold temperature of the room had started to get to you, making your shoulders begin to shake. This wasn't normal...

As you looked over to the neon red digits on the night-stand, you furrowed your eyebrows in concern.

2:56 A.M

He didn't mention if he was going to stay late at his studio today, so where was he? Even if he were to be staying in his office, he should have been home by now.

So, with that thought in mind, you quickly kicked the heavy sheets off of you before putting on your slippers and opening the door to the hallway. The first thing you heard was the sound of Treadmill, it seemed as though it was on a high setting.

Why would he be working out at this hour? you thought as you jogged down the stairs and stopped at the front of the fitness room.

There he was, gripping on tightly to the two handlebars with his smooth hands, his breaths fast-paced and strained. His hair was slicked back as it glistened with sweat from the light above you two.

"Jin?"

His breathing froze as he rapidly started lowering the speed on the machine until it stopped. When the Treadmill was finally finished moving, Jin stood there, staring only in front of him.

You were about to call out to him once more but stopped yourself before you could speak. His fast-paced breaths weren't from the workout, but from him crying. He...was really, crying...

You jogged up to him and pulled him off the Treadmill and hugged him tightly, as you move one of your hands on his back in circles in an attempt to comfort him.

"I'm sorry. Its j-just, the man-manager gave me and the others a week to lose a small p-portion of weight. B-but tomorrows the last day and, and, I didn't e-even lose one po-poun-d." He shoved his face into your neck as he began to wail.

His hands bunched up the material of your shirt as your shoulder began to feel wet. His back jolted up in a messy pattern with his loud gasps and hiccups for breath. It surprised you, of course, you had never seen Jin so vulnerable before.

"Hey, hey its okay baby. How about we leave this for tomorrow hm? I can work out with you too if you want." You gently whispered into his ear as you kissed his trembling shoulder.

He lifted his head and looked down at you with puffy red eyes, tears were still rolling down his face as he sniffled.

"Y-yes ple-please."

With that, you lead your boyfriend back to your shared bedroom as you then slept peacefully in each other's arms.

Min Yoongi

The day had started calm and quiet. Nothing, in particular, had caught your interest, resulting in you roaming about the silent and empty house sluggishly. All you had done today was, cook a small breakfast of bacon and eggs, watch Netflix on your couch, take a quick nap, and take a quick shower.

Yoongi had stayed over-night at Namjoon’s place, along with J-hope, leaving you alone in the morning. You weren’t angry though, as your boyfriend had informed you of the other house before he left the next day. You had, of course, tried to convince him to either go another day or have you tag along with him, but he wasn’t one to budge so easily.

So, here you were, sprawled out over your bed, wearing only your underwear and your boyfriend’s shirt. The comforter felt cold against your skin, but you had no other way to keep yourself warm. The sheet itself was extremely messy as half of it was hanging off the bed, collecting dust as it dragged on the floor.

Sighing, you look over your arm towards the window. The sky had started to become a variety of colors, ranging from reds and oranges to blues and dark purples. The colors blended beautifully, causing you to jump up and grab your sketchbook from the nearby night-stand.

You grabbed a nearby blanket and laid it over the surface of some of the lamented wood on the ground. You smacked it with your hand a bit to get it leveled out and comfy before sitting down with a thump. You flipped to a blank page before getting to work. You drew the houses nearby along with a few trees. You roughly shaded the sky to add in detail.

Although when you finished, you looked down at your sketch and began to laugh. It was extremely messy and hard to look at but, you understood it, and you only needed the memory of the scene before you as you were going to complete the drawing later.

Just as you were about to get up and clean up your little setup, you heard the front door open. You jumped, surprised at the sound, before getting back to cleaning, Yoongi would probably come up the stairs looking for you.

And you were correct, with heavy footsteps, you heard him slowly make his way up the stairs. The floorboards creaked as he walked towards your shared bedroom. You could hear him sighing as he continued.

Maybe he's tired...

When he finally made it to the bedroom, he stopped in the door-frame, looking for you with squinted eyes within the dim light. He looked over towards the window, breathing out a puff of air before sluggishly moving towards you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist silently while burying his head in your neck. Yoongi grabbed one of your hands, bringing it up to his face to caress it. His face showed a brief moment of relief before cramping up again.

“Hey Yoonie, how was your nigh-”

You cut yourself off when you felt wet drops rolling onto your hand, accompanying the feeling of your boyfriend’s scrunched up face.

You whipped around, turning to look at your boyfriend but found it difficult, he was trying to avoid your eyes. He turned his head, but you could still see him roughly biting his lip, an indicator that was most likely going to breakdown soon.

You brought your hand up to his face, grabbing his chin and gently turning it towards you. 

“Oh Sugar, what happened?” Your eyes were filled with sympathy as your eyebrows turned slightly upwards.

“I, we, I just-,” he clasped his hand over his mouth as he crouched to the ground, curling into himself. 

He wasn’t loud, no, not at all it was as if he had muted himself somehow, the only things you could hear from him were the spontaneous gasps and hiccups that fell from his mouth.

You tapped his shoulder and pulled on it lightly, encouraging him to get up and lay with you on the bed. He stood up and slowly crawled onto the mattress, proceeding to flop on his side. When you laid down next to him, he moved up closer to you shoving his head into your chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

You weren’t sure what had happened, but you knew that you’d both talk about it tomorrow. As, for the time being, you hugged him back, whispering sweet nothings into his ears until he fell asleep.

Which didn’t take very long...

Jung Hoseok

When you realized that J-hope was late for dinner, you knew something was wrong. He always made sure to come home from the dance studio on time, and even if he came home late, it’d only be the max, about 10 minutes. But it had now been an hour, and you were starting to get worried.

You covered both your dinners with a paper plate before going to the couch and turning on the TV. You grabbed your phone frowning, you had sent him over 15 texts by now. Each one saying a slightly different message like, ‘Sunshine where are you?’ or ‘Are you okay? Why aren’t you responding?.’

You felt a cold sweat run over your body, 

Was he hurt?

Had you done something wrong?

Where is he?

You breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm yourself down, maybe his phone died! Yes, that could be a reasonable possibility, it has happened before.

Still a bit tense, you turned your phone to vibrate before setting it down beside you on the comfy couch. You grabbed the Mang plush from the side of the couch before laying back.

It wasn’t too long before you felt your phone begin to vibrate. You jolted up, cursing under your breath as your phone bounced off the couch, onto the floor.

Snatching it from the ground, you looked at the caller ID. It was Jimin, specifically hosting a face-time as you saw his chin above the phone’s camera before you answered.

 “Hello?,” Jimin’s face snapped down in an instant, his eyes staring at your face through the phone screen.

“Yah! Y/N, I need your help! Hobi hyung told me to call you!” His face contorted into one of concern when he looked away from the phone and focused on something.

Your throat closed up, what could be the emergency? Was Hoseok okay? 

“What happened!? Is he okay?!” You slightly rose your voice at the phone in your hand, you were starting to get scared.

Hoseok only rarely got into trouble, and when he did he would take it face first and deal with the situation with the best of his abilities. So if he was in desperate need of your presence, that means he's struggling.

You asked Jimin to hand the phone over to your boyfriend before widening your eyes,

“Sunshine what happened?” you cooed.

He was wiping at his eyes repetitively, causing them to become red and agitated. His eyes were a colored red as tears streamed down his face. He occasionally sniffled, trying to voice words to finally talk to you. But, his mouth automatically closed whenever he tried to open it. Just then, Jimin’s face popped up next to Hoseok’s.

“What he wants to say is that, well... We were practicing later than the rest of the members for a new performance that’s coming up next month. But, hyung has been training the most out of everybody, and, I think he got too stressed,” Jimin finished. He then patted Hobi’s shoulder before going out of the camera’s view.

You looked back at your boyfriend, his tears had slowed down but were still running down his face. His expression was more relaxed now as he stared at you through the phone, waiting for you to speak.

“How about you come home okay? We can go to sleep and relax when we get here, I even made your favorite!” His eyes lit up when you mentioned the dinner you made earlier. But, you could see that he was about to open his mouth again,

“Yes, there’s sprite as well.”

He flashed his signature heart-shaped smile, chuckling a bit as he forgot all about his stress,

“Th-thanks Jagiya, I’ll be home in a couple of minutes.”

Kim Namjoon

You felt all the air leave your lungs when someone flopped on top of you. The couch cried out as your body was forcefully smashed into it.

“Hey! What was that for!?” 

You struggled to look behind you, as your hand smacked at the leg of the person on top of you.

“Namjoon!,” you scolded while you tried to shake him off of you.

Usually, he would have rolled off of you by now and showed you his smile as he laughed on the floor. So, what made him act so differently now?

You went silent as you realized that he’d tell you what's wrong when he's ready. So, you took this time to contemplate what could have happened.

Well, this morning he seemed fine, as he gave you the usual morning kiss and compliments before leaving to go to Big Hit’s Company building to work on his songs.

He called you at 4:00 P.M like any other day, mostly talking about how he missed you even though he sees you every day. 

He sent you the normal text as well, asking if you were okay in the house by yourself and if you had eaten yet.

Lastly, he had come home at the routinely 7:30, the only thing different this time was his mood.

Suddenly you felt the weight on your back being lifted off of you, followed by the sound of a thud on the floor. 

Looking over your shoulder, you could see Namjoon staring down at the soft rug of your living room floor. His posture was hunched over, his legs crossed in an uncomfortable position. His elbows dug into his lap as his hands covered his face and became tangled within his hair. 

“Joonie? What's wrong baby?” you gently spoke out, but Namjoon didn’t seem to respond.

“Namjoon,” you said in a louder voice in hopes of gaining his attention. He didn’t respond this time either.

You slowly slid off the couch to sit in the spot next to your boyfriend. You slightly cringed at the friction the couch had against your legs as you moved but ignored it and proceeded to plop onto the ground.

You nudged Namjoon’s shoulder in an attempt to get his attention, but it was as if he was in a different universe where he couldn’t see you. 

Growing more and more worried by the moment, you decided to try and pull down his hands from his face for him to notice your presence. So, you gradually caressed his large hands, maneuvering them so that your fingers were weaved in with his. But you gasped when you saw the state he was in.

He was breathing rapidly, his eyes were wide and trained on the floor, his hands shook violently within yours as you tried to steady them. Namjoon looked at you, his mouth wasn’t moving and instead hung open to let the air around him fill in his lungs. Although, his eyes were begging for help.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, breath for me all right?” you said as you brought him in for a tight hug.

It wasn’t long before his breathing had slowed down a bit but it didn’t go back to normal. 

From the placement of his head on your shoulder you began to feel him shake and jolt in an irregular pattern. A growing patch of moisture grew on your shoulder while he began to hiccup and gasp. You could tell that he was trying to hold back his tears with every forceful breath he took.  

“Mi-mianhae Y/n, I’ve j-just been str-stressed out late-ly.” He whimpered into your ear.

You immediately shushed him, reassuring him that there was nothing for him to be sorry for. Your speech seemed to have caused his sobbing to go down a couple of notches as he now only shook in your grasp, sniffling every couple of seconds.

It was quiet in the large house as you pondered on what you could do to make your significant other feel better at this time.

And that’s when it hit you.

“Baby?,” He hummed and turned his head towards you on your shoulder,

“Do you want to go to the beach tomorrow? And yes, we can go looking for crabs.”

He was already smiling when you had offered him the adventure to the beach, but after you had mentioned that you’d go searching for crabs with him he let out a chuckle.

Namjoon gave his signature smile to you, showcasing his dimples before speaking,

“Yeah, I’d, love to.”

[starkergames]

Title: Dance Me to the End of Love Artists: @still-lovelygarnet (sketch), Lighinz (Ink),  @the-mad-starker​ (Color + Writer) Notes: Lighinz: This was the first piece of starker fanart I’ve ever worked on and I’m so glad it was with my lovely teammates. They’re such inspirations! It’s been amazing seeing this all come together. ❤️❤️ Garnet: This drawing has been a journey for me, and I am so happy to see it finished! It’s a beauty and I am proud of my wonderful, stunning, hard working and stupidly talented teammates, @the-mad-starker�� & Lighinz! And let’s not forget the fic that comes with it, Mads being an absolute trouper as always. ❤️❤️ Thank you guys for having me! Mads: I had absolutely no idea how much work coloring was but my teammates were always so encouraging and supportive. QAQ I’ll never take fanart for granted again QAQ But I’m happy I gave this a shot and I’ve learned so much. Thanks to my teammates and for this event for bringing us together 💗 The social media sites and media had gone apeshit over the leak. A certain document started circulating, a marriage license. 

Tony Stark was married. 

The only problem was, whoever had done it had blurred out his spouse’s name. Fic below the cut!

February 14, 2020.

A Friday night to remember since it was not only Valentine's Day but also the Stark Valentine's Charity ball.

Every year, Stark Industries would raise thousands and this year, it would be no different. Most likely, they'd be able to raise more than any other year previously since the spotlight had been on Tony for the past week.

An important document had been leaked.

A marriage license.

It came as a shock.

The social media sites and media had gone apeshit over the leak. A certain document started circulating, a marriage license.

Tony Stark was married.

The only problem was, whoever had done it had blurred out his spouse's name.

And so the paparazzi were on the hunt for a Mrs. or Mr. Stark only to find out Tony had taken a two week business trip.

False, they had discovered. The business trip was actually a honeymoon and the trail went cold until now.

Tony had managed to avoid them once he came back, no husband or wife in sight. That caused an even bigger commotion since it piqued everyone's curiosity. It was easy enough for Tony to remain unreachable, considering the man lived in the penthouse above Stark Industries.

It wasn't as easy for Peter though since he still lived in Queens with his aunt, but no one was all too interested in him. No one, except Tony.

Tony, who, despite Peter's insistence that he didn't need to be picked up, had arrived at his aunt's 5:30 on the dot. It wasn't unusual though since Tony was just spontaneous and hard to say no to.

Peter's boss and mentor sat beside him in the limo driving them to the event. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander over the man sitting beside him.

Tony Stark was aglow from all the sun he'd been enjoying and more than that, he was genuinely happy. The smile on his face said as much, a charming and almost dopey smile that not many were accustomed to seeing. Marital bliss suited the older man even if his smiles deepened the lines on his face.

To Peter, Tony has never looked so handsome.

He fidgeted in his seat, still not used to wearing the kind of attire that's required for these things.

Tony picked out his suit though, a cream-colored piece that only seemed to accentuate his slim but fit body. In contrast, the older man had worn a navy blue suit along with a very light, almost white, pink shirt. A rose was tucked into his shirt pocket and Peter smiled at the sight.

"The polls for the identity of Mrs. Stark is pretty funny," Tony mused as he scrolled through the media sites on his phone.

"Who's winning now?" Peter asked as he leaned closer to peek at his phone.

Pepper Potts's name was nowhere in the list but only because she had adamantly denied it from the very start. The paparazzi had also proven that Ms. Potts had been attending a company business while Tony had disappeared for his honeymoon.

"Who is that even…?" Peter laughed. "Natasha Romanoff…?"

Tony bumped his knee against his and chuckled.

"They got a hold of the guest list," Tony explained, "that's why she's jumped up in the polls."

Peter hummed but leaned back.

"Too bad the only person accompanying you is your protege," Peter said, knee bouncing as he scrolled through the list.

There was a separate poll for men, too, since Tony wasn't exactly shy about his preferences. Peter's heart skipped a beat when he saw his own there, listed near the very bottom at place number twenty-one out of twenty-five.

Warmth. Tony's hand settled on top of his bouncing knee. His wedding ring glinted in the light, a simple golden band with one studded diamond embedded inside.

"Breathe, kid," Tony instructed gently. "You sure you wanna do this? I know these public things aren't your scene."

Peter was anxious and it was obvious. He took a deep breath, stopped his fidgeting, and focused his runaway thoughts.

He knew that if he had said so right now that Tony would bring him home.

That, more than anything, was what had Peter returning the smile. It was a bit strained from the upcoming event, but it was there. He settled a hand over Tony's and felt the smooth, hard metal beneath his fingers. A gentle squeeze was given to show his appreciation.

"I can do this," Peter said and then corrected himself. "I want to do this."

"That's my spunky little intern," Tony smiled back at him.

"Not an intern anymore," Peter reminded him with a fond shake of his head.

He hasn't been an intern for almost two years and was expecting to take over as the R&D department manager of Stark Industries within the next six months.

And the relationship between him and Tony...

Tony grinned at the correction.

"Of course not. How do I keep forgetting?" Tony pretended to chide himself.

Peter was about to make a quip about his age but then the limo came to a stop at the entrance.

Outside, he saw the crowd of reports just waiting to catch a glimpse of Tony's spouse who they expected had ridden with him. He wondered how they'd react when they see just little old Peter Parker trailing after his boss.

Everyone was used to seeing Peter by Tony's side since he joined SI. Tony, himself, had called Peter his protégé, his next big project, the rising star of SI… the list of affectionate nicknames go on and on and has accumulated into a big pile of endearments.

Peter cherished each one.

"Knock 'em dead," was the last thing Tony said before they went to face the crowd.

The camera flashes were blinding. Even after two years of it, Peter still forgot to expect them until it was already too late and dots were dancing in his vision.

As expected of Tony Stark, he owned the audience's attention and smiled at every camera turned his way. Peter followed behind and was careful to keep away from the reporters.

No one was really interested in him since it was Tony that they wanted to get at.

Peter watched, amused, as Tony deflected every inquiry regarding his spouse that was thrown his way. This was a charity ball, after all, and the older man turned every question into answers that promoted and brought the attention back to the event in question.

Peter didn't know how he did it but it was a superpower he'd have to learn in the future.

The event area was decorated in a beautiful mess of Valentine's Day colors. The tables were set in white with stunning displays of bouquets. The roses were in full bloom, vibrant reds that popped out when surrounded by the more gentle pinks and whites of the surrounding flowers.

Crowds of people already sat at their tables, socializing and having a good time with wine being served.

It was a very large event and just standing there, taking it all in, Peter felt he could've easily lost himself in there. But then he felt a strong and familiar presence by his side and he turned, finding Tony right there beside him.

At that moment, the room could've been filled to capacity and Peter wouldn't have noticed anyone else besides Tony.

To him, it was obvious that he was in love with his boss. To others, maybe it wasn't as obvious since they liked to think of him as Tony's mini-me.

A lot of people also felt that they knew what Tony's feelings and thoughts were. It was easy to believe that since Tony was such an outspoken and outgoing person. He could talk on and on about something, injecting his insights and thoughts on a subject, and the listener would only have a glimpse of who Tony really was.

So, everyone thought that they knew Tony Stark because of his past reputation and his easy-going personality.

Then Tony did something like secretly getting married and people suddenly realized how very little they knew about him. They hadn't even known he was dating, let alone serious enough to pop the question.

They didn't see Tony the way Peter did, didn't know him the way Peter did so how could he blame them for being so oblivious?

Every smile Tony gave to others, he gave twice as many to Peter in darted glances and quick flashes. He always pulled Peter into the conversation and Peter wondered if others recognized just how often Tony spoke about him.

Maybe they did. Maybe they brushed it off.

That would change tonight.

Many had asked about the mysterious Mr. or Mrs. Stark. Curious eyes searched for Tony's spouse by his side and seemed to slip right over Peter. It didn't upset him at all. It made him happy that he was such a well recognized figure in Tony's life.

The money came pouring in for the charity and Tony gave them his dazzling smile. Appetizers were served, the guests' chatter dropping to low murmurs as they were served finger foods that could've easily replaced dinner with how generous it was.

A short speech was made and Tony looked so handsome with the mic in his hand and a bright gleam in his eye.

Peter, from his seat at the front table, could practically feel how the guests were hoping for Tony to introduce his spouse.

And like the tease Tony was, just shortly before concluding his speech, he had the audacity to say, "I know many of you are dying to meet my sweetheart." He gave the crowd a wink, "And it is Valentine's Day so it would make sense, huh?"

A pause as the crowd waited patiently or impatiently for the big reveal.

"But this ball isn't about me or my newly beloved, but we'll see if we can get some more surprises in by the end of the night. Dinner should be coming out shortly and then, we'll get to the fun part of the evening. Dancing!"

Tony rejoined the first table, completely at ease with his selected dinner mates. He flashed Peter a quick grin before he nudged his seat closer.

"What do you think? Will they be lucky enough?" Tony leaned in to ask.

Beneath the table, a warm hand settled on his knee, a reassuring weight. Peter had to fight to keep the smile from splitting across his face.

The whole dancing part of the event made him nervous and Tony had promised him that he didn't need to. Just thinking about it made his heart pound but when he looked at the older man, he felt it melt into a mess of goo and affection.

He subtly slipped his hand beneath the table, settling it above Tony's and gave it a squeeze.

"Maybe," he said with a faint smile.

They withdrew both their hands as the waiters came out and served dinner. The dinner SI provided for their guests was almost decadent. It warmed their bellies with good food and along with the alcohol from the open bar, laughter and smiles were being exchanged with ease.

The clatter of utensils working over near and veggies filled the room and the soft quiet conversations lulled as people ate.

And just as dinner was wrapping up, a familiar tune started to play. Peter glanced and Tony and found the man staring back at him, unabashed and grinning from ear to ear.

He returned it with an exasperated shake of his head, but when Tony held his hand out… Peter took it.

He was pulled from his seat and led onto the empty dance floor. The music swirled around them and the entire hall fell into a hush as more and more people noticed the pair on the floor.

Tony led Peter in a dance and it was there that everyone's eyes were finally opened to the truth.

The person they had been looking for all evening had been by Tony's side the entire time.

There was no doubt about it now, as the audience's eyes followed the pair. Fluid, graceful movements… Hand in hand, they swept across the dance floor, perfectly in sync in body, as well as mind.

It was undeniable, the tenderness that spread across Tony's face as he looked at Peter

Undeniable, when Peter smiled so sweetly at him.

They danced and danced and to Peter, it was like the entire hall disappeared. There was no one else but them and all the anxiety, all the doubts faded away as he looked into Tony's eyes.

They had taken a long path to get where they were today. What started as a simple, professional relationship slowly transformed into a quiet, but comfortable silence as they worked.

The silence became filled with chatter and once one started talking, the other would answer. Their quiet work hours became filled with laughter and scandalized jokes then with soft teasing. The hunger for each other's company grew until it spilled out of the lab and brought them together in movie theaters then quiet little evenings in Peter's apartment.

Their first kiss was a memory that made them both grin and laugh. A moment of spontaneity as Tony babbled on and on, a flush of excitement tinting his cheeks red. Then shocked silence as Peter shut him up with a press of his lips.

Do that again, Tony had dared and Peter hadn't backed down since. He'd done it countless times until they were both breathless from it.

Countless dates and secret smiles being exchanged at the office. I love you's being exchanged softly and meaningfully. Reverently. Then the ease in which those words came, each dropping it casually in their texts and whenever they parted. It didn't make those significant words any less meaningful. In fact, it only reaffirmed, over and over, how they felt about each other.

Months fast-forwarded and then Tony was kneeling in front of him, a black box in hand and Peter staring dumbly at him like he hadn't expected it at all. The mister to my Mr. Stark, Tony had casually said once upon a time and now… Now, the ring sat on Peter's fingers, a quiet but unbreakable declaration.

All those memories whirled around them as they danced. The ease in which they trusted one another was obvious. The love they had was now glaringly obvious, as obvious as the beautiful sparkle that Peter's diamond ring gave off, a perfect mirror to Tony's wedding band.

And when the song came to an end, Tony's mic turned on. That voice that Peter has heard whispering love into his ears come on the speakers, breathless from excitement and exertion.

"I don't need to make introductions," Tony said while looking into Peter's eyes. "You all know who he is." -- Thank you to our wonderful artists and writer who participated in the first Starker Games!

[jimlingss]

The President’s Son [15]

Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 15.5 OR Chapter 16

➜ Words: 2.7k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

It’s getting harder to understand Taehyung. And even harder to comprehend your reaction.

  “Hold my book for a second, dumbo.” He rudely chucks it aside, and you barely manage to catch it. It’s piled on top of the other textbooks you’re holding for him like a maid, the tower tipping back and forth, nearly spilling all to the ground.    Your glare is unforgiving. “Can’t you ask me nicel—”   Taehyung suddenly drops down. “Your shoelaces are untied.”    “O-oh.”   The college student ties your sneakers gingerly, making sure they’re secure. He loops two bunny ears around the knot and then stands up with a smile. “All done! Now you won’t trip. I can’t always be there to catch you.”   Taehyung takes his book off the pile you’re holding and walks off. You’re left staring at his backside before you pick up the pace, unable to help feeling a little perplexed and caught off guard.    It’s becoming increasingly difficult to understand him and predict his actions — but it’s not like they were ever predictable in the first place. He’s always had a knack for spontaneity. It’s your susceptibility to surprise, that’s changed.    “I know you said you weren’t hungry—” Taehyung sits down across the picnic table and slides a brown bag towards you. “—but I got you the jelly doughnut. It was on discount. You liked this one, right?”   “Y-yeah. Thanks.”    You watch him go to town on his hash brown, chomping like a ravenous beast.   You’re agitated, muddled, but also more than that. You’re not sure what this emotion is. It’s puzzling to pinpoint, challenging and strenuous on your mind. You just know it’s different from annoyance, disenchantment, and the usual disenthrallment.    “Oh, look!”   Taehyung’s pointing to your left shoulder. When you look down, you’re unable to see what he’s indicating. Running out of patience and without thinking twice, he leans himself over. You flinch back on natural instinct, but he’s undeterred, paying no mind to the reaction that’s conditioned you since childhood.   You feel his chest hovering above yours, thin lips a millimeter away, and you hold your breath. But Taehyung’s eyes are nowhere near your body; his stare isn’t greasy or purposely flirtatious.    It stays quiet for a moment too long before he draws back.    “It’s a ladybug.” Taehyung shows you with a grin, one that had landed on your shoulder, and one he sets down into the grass behind him. “See you later, little guy.”   You’re absolutely bewildered, though finally able to breathe again.   There are times Taehyung’s unbearably cheesy and teasing, trying to get under your skin or vying for a reaction when he yearns for a kind of attention he receives from nowhere else, much like how he was when he was a kid. But the times that affect you the most are his unintentional actions — when he’s being sincere, genuine, his innocent self.    You’re not sure what to think of it. It’s confusing.   And the worst part is you can’t comprehend Taehyung lately — your own head’s become chaotic and you’re not quite certain of the reason for it.    “Y/N, hang on tight.” Taehyung pedals harder and glances over his shoulder. “The road ahead’s under construction. It’s gonna be bumpy.”   “Want to switch spots?”   “Nope,” he sings. “Just hold onto me.”   You obliged, grasping onto him, locking your wrists together around his waist.    Apparently it’s not enough. “Tighter.”   Your head leans on him, front pressed against his back, holding on. Taehyung laughs, the noise drawing out from his chest, and you can already envision his satisfied grin. “Good.”   You wonder since when his laugh became so melodic and pleasant to listen to.   It seems when he’s not trying whatsoever, he’s the most charming. When Taehyung’s not trying to flirt or retain intense eye contact or shower you in excessive compliments — and instead being his mischievous self, caring in quiet ways without making a whole show about it, laughing and smiling — he’s the most charismatic, much like his dad.   The magnetism that draws people in seems to run through the Kim blood.   Maybe you just never realized it before, but stepping back from your own biases and objectively analyzing him, Taehyung is rather appealing. He has a handful of good traits, and you’ve noticed the way females and males murmur as he walks past or stares across the room, not quite because of malicious rumours either or due to his status.    He’s a tall, strapping, blonde fellow. Even before when he had shaggy hair and was trying to grow a moustache, he wasn’t terrible on the eyes. Now that you recognize it, you gotta give it to him...he’s impressive in many ways.   You wonder why you’re only recognizing this now.    Why you didn’t see it sooner.   Maybe your childhoods that overlapped inhibited your perception and clouded your judgment, or perhaps you had learnt to overlook such trivial details.    But if there’s one thing that you’re beginning to learn about Taehyung, it’s that he’s the most attractive when he’s serious. You wish more people saw him like this — they wouldn’t take his words or opinions for granted otherwise.    Though now that you know this, you don’t really need a front row ticket to it...   “You want to what?”   “I want to draw you.”   “Absolutely not.”   “Why?” Taehyung pouts and he doesn’t know it’s because you don’t want him to stare at you intently, because it would be too intimate for your liking. As good as you are at pretending you’re a statue at social events, this is not part of your job description. The last thing you are is a piece of art. “I promise it’ll be quick. Half an hour, tops. I just need a rough sketch of someone as part of my portfolio.”   A sigh befalls your lips. “Can’t you pick someone else?”   “I don’t have anyone else. C’mon, it’s for school. Don’t you have to make sure I’m doing well in my schooling too?”   “But…” You look down at yourself. You’re not one to pay mind to futile things like your outer appearance, but you know you’re not in appropriate attire to be sketched. Once it’s permanently on paper, there’s no going back or reversing time. “I’m not even dressed properly, Taehyung.”   “You look fine,” he emphasizes and reaches over, grabbing your elbow. Taehyung walks you towards the center of the small studio. He turns you away from the sunlight, holds your shoulders and scoots you an inch to his right until it’s to his liking. “There. Good. Now stay still, okay?”   He smiles and struts back, plopping down onto his stool. With a sketchbook in hand, he looks up and begins.    The sound of graphite scratching against the paper fills the space between the four walls. It’s awkward, dreadful as you stare straight at him, and you release your held breath. “Do you want me to pose?”   “No.” There’s a full ten seconds of silence. “Just stay still.”   You feel out of place, stiff. The only thing you do is blink and barely breathe, not wanting to ruin his efforts.   “Can I ask you something, dumbo?” Taehyung mutters out of the corner of his mouth, eyes still pinned to his sketchbook.   “I...guess.”   “It’s kind of a stupid question, but I’m really curious as to what you’ll answer. So….think about it before you answer.” He hesitates for a moment and then goes for the kill. “Would you ever date me?”   “What?” You blink at him, unsure how to answer.   “Don’t move,” he suddenly barks out and you freeze at once, catching yourself halfway to stepping forward. “Thanks. Anyways I said, would you ever hypothetically date me or go out with me?”   “I don’t date.”   “Yeah, but let’s pretend that you did,” he mutters again and doesn’t even look at you properly to read your expression. Taehyung’s still concentrated, brows furrowed, the tip of his tongue peeking past the seam of his lips. His pencil comes out to measure something and then he quickly returns to the sketchbook. It’s not uncomfortable when he’s not full on staring and waiting for you to respond. There’s less pressure when he gives you time to reply.   “Well….that would be highly unprofessional. I’m your bodyguard—”   “Then let’s pretend you’re not,” he says carelessly as if this is small talk or a game of ‘would you rather’ to pass the time and make you less bored.   You hum, unintentionally relaxing in your spot as you give in and consider this what-if scenario he’s handed to you. “In a hypothetical world where I happen to have enough time and commitment to want to even date and I’m not your bodyguard and we happen to run into each other and we got the opportunity to go out….in a non-platonic sense…”   “Yes.”   “I….don’t know.”   “Wow, that’s it?” The corner of Taehyung’s mouth curls, but it’s a dangerous question. You’re uncertain of what he wants you to say, what you want to say. The possibility of such a circumstance makes your palms clammy.   “Well, I wouldn’t know.” You shrug. “You kind of have to be in the moment to know.”   “Hmmmm, I see.” The artist at work nods to himself. “Interesting.”   As reckless as it is, you find yourself asking, “How about you?”   “Me? Yeah, I’d date you. If you’d even let me.” Taehyung laughs and a smile appears on your face. He announces it like he’s so sure of himself, and it almost makes you...nervous. But you’re probably sweating from the heat of the room. “I don’t see why not.”   “But why me?” you question. “Like you said, I’m emotionally stunted. And I wouldn’t be able to offer you anything.” It doesn’t make sense to you — you’re not exciting, adventurous, or fun. The type of person you imagine Taehyung to be with, you can’t find any shred of it in yourself.    In fact, you feel more like a drag on people’s lives. The sidekick or background character that helps them accomplish one mission and hints them to the next. Never the hero. Most certainly never the love interest.   Taehyung’s hand pauses.   He glances at you with a frown, earnest in his words. “Don’t sell yourself short. Seriously.”   The student continues his sketch. “You’re responsible and hard-working and smart and capable. Most people aren’t like that. They’re not like you. And you keep me grounded. Make sure I don’t make stupid fucking decisions and end up breaking my legs.”   The corner of your mouth pulls again. “Okay, fine. That’s fair. But is it really enough to date me in this hypothetical world?”   “In this hypothetical world,” he pauses to inhale, “Yes. But there’s so much more than that. I wish you knew. I’d be the lucky one here. Not the other way around.”   Your face heats. He gives you more credit than you deserve, but you appreciate the wholehearted praise. For once, he’s not trying to butter you to succumb to whatever he wants, to get you to roll your eyes and banter with him. There’s nothing he can gain from it. It’s meaningful and you’re brought back to the time he told you no one could replace you...   “This is going to sound so lame and I know for a fact it’s one sided,” Taehyung mumbles as his eraser scrapes along the drawing you can’t discern from this distance, “but you’re my best friend, Y/N.”   Your chest is tight and you meet his eyes, staring at each other. His pencil continues to move on the paper, having sketched your curves, the dips of your waist, the slope of your nose, shape of your lips and strands of your hair.   “It’s not one-sided.”   Taehyung smiles.   He looks down and the rest of the time is spent quietly as he tries to finish, focusing. The conversation sinks down onto your shoulders and unlike his promise, it lasts longer than an hour. But you don’t find it difficult to stay in place anymore under his gaze.   Eventually, he finishes and sets his pencil down with a grin. “Good enough. You wanna see?”   “Yes. In case you wasted an hour of my life….” You walk over, dragging your sleeping leg behind you to peer over his shoulder. At once, your expression wipes away.   He looks up at you in worry. “What do you think?”   “It’s….pretty decent,” you admit with an approving nod. “I look so….” Pretty. Happy.    The sketch isn’t so rough as he said it would be. It’s a clear drawing of you, standing with arms behind your back, facial expression melted into a sheepish smile. It’s uncanny to how you remember your mother when you used to look at her, back before she became worn down, cynical, disappointed in how her own life turned out.   You wonder if this is how Taehyung sees you. In a way that’s so lovely and carefree.   “It better be decent. My hand hurts.” He shakes it and stretches his arms above his head with a groan. “I’m beat too.”   “Can I get a copy of it? When you’re done….”   Taehyung sets his notebook down on the table and spins around in pleasant shock. “You like it that much?” A stupidly wide grin begins to expand into his cheeks.   You try to shrug casually. “It’s not bad.”   He walks across the room, falling onto the worn sofa in the corner. “I’ll let you have the original when I get it back. Come here.” Taehyung pats a spot beside him, but you glance at the watch on your wrist.   “Shouldn’t we go get dinner?”   “Yeah, but I’m so tired. Let me rest for a second.” Once you give in, moving to sit down beside him, he scoots closer to you. Side-eyeing Taehyung only causes him to smile. “Thanks, dumbo, for letting me draw you.”   “It’s fine. Better than your idea of going bungee jumping.”   “I still wanna do that.”   “Maybe when it’s not my shift.”   “So you can actually join me?”   “So I’m not responsible if something goes wrong.”   He bursts out with a scoff and a laugh before settling down, tearing his eyes away from the profile of your face he had tried to recreate on paper and failed. He shifts to look straight ahead instead. Another thought bubbles to the surface of his consciousness. “In a hypothetical world where we never grew up together, where you weren’t my bodyguard, if I wasn’t the President’s son, and we met here...do you think you’d be my friend?”   “What’s up with you and hypotheticals today?”   “I just wish things were different.”   “Different how?”   “I don’t know,” he says, but you think he does know.   You don’t push him to tell you if he doesn’t want to.   It goes quiet.   Every blink that is taken is heavy. The exhaustion of the day catches up to you, muscles sore, feet aching. But you’re suddenly broken out of your trance when there’s a newfound weight on your shoulder. You flinch from the affection, yet Taehyung stays, chest rising and falling.   He’s leaning on your shoulder, fast asleep.   Your eyes soften, staring at the icy blonde strands of his hair. Your breath steadies and you sigh gently, allowing him to stay.   You don’t notice the way Taehyung’s mouth tugs upwards discreetly, how he sheepishly smiles, noticing the change. Just a month ago, he had tried the same thing and you shoved him off without waiting a single beat….   And just like that, he falls asleep on you, lulled by your scent and warmth.   It’s now that you’re sitting right beside him, peace allowing you to think, that you can finally put your finger on the feeling that’s been brewing inside of you ever since he embraced your body in his bed, underneath his covers, and the pair of you fell asleep in each other’s arms. You know it now. And it brings a whole plethora of emotions washing down on you — confusion, worry, fear.    You’re agitated, muddled, but also more than that. It’s different from annoyance, disenchantment, and the usual disenthrallment. It’s fluster.   Kim Taehyung’s made you flustered.

[hedwigstalons]

The Tracy Prize - part 19

A boring afternoon at work led to the creation of Claire, the rather grumpy and tech-phobic chemist.  I never expected the little fic she spawned to run to over 25k words.  I may also dig her out in future as there were other scenes that didn’t really fit this story.

 Thank you to everyone that came along for the ride.  Each like, reblog and comment was very much appreciated. @willow-salix thank you for digging me out of several plot holes.  And thanks to @gumnut-logic for opening the door and welcoming me in to this fandom, I probably wouldn’t have attempting writing Virg if it wasn’t you.

  So now…the final part.

Here are the earlier parts for those that want to go back to the beginning: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18

xoxoxox

Claire sat on a bench in the locker room near the hangers, wrestling with a rust coloured boot.  After a determined tug her foot popped around the bend in the heel and she was able to close the seals around her calf.  

The synthetic fuel had been cleared for field testing.  She knew Virgil was already in the cockpit of Thunderbird Two, waiting for her to suit up.  She didn’t want to keep him waiting.  She was looking forward to spending some time with the engineer.

She wondered how her life had managed to take such a surprising change in direction. Just a few short months ago International Rescue was just a name that appeared in news reports.  Anonymous heroes who swooped to the rescue.  Now it meant a houseful of people who risked their lives on a daily basis to help whoever made the call.  People that she was proud to call her friends.  Her thoughts lingered on one particular operative that she wished was more than just a friend.

As she adjusted the prototype uniform she reflected on exactly how this particular development had come about.

It had been a difficult day for all of them.  One of those days when the tension in the villa thrummed like an over tightened guitar string.  One of those rare days when Scott had announced he was out of his depth and called for outside assistance over the comms.  He had made an error and needed help dealing with the fallout, both literally and figuratively.  It had fallen to Claire to guide him through the process of decontamination from the material that coated himself and his body cam, obscuring Claire’s view of the tools and substances at his disposal.  That coating had turned out to be lithium hydride, a tricky substance that had the tendency to spontaneously ignite in humid air.  It was a tense time as she talked the First Responder through the clean up procedures, all the while hoping he wasn’t about to catch fire.

When Scott had finally made it home some 20 hours later he looked distinctly older than when he had set out.  He had announced that perhaps there would be times when it would be useful to take the chemist out in the field to try and avoid these situations occurring in the first place.  Claire had been inclined to agree with him; if Scott had paused and consulted her before charging into the factory he would never have got coated in the volatile substance in the first place.

What followed was a whirlwind of sketches, concept design and finally the prototype uniform.  

A uniform that was currently highlighting its flaws and would definitely need a redesign.

She would gladly have gone on the test flight in her usual clothes but Scott has insisted that, since she had a uniform, she should wear it when going off-island on International Rescue business.

Claire gave up trying to get the zip on her back done up.  She picked up the helmet and rebreather kit that turned her uniform into a grade two certified hazmat suit and headed towards the hangers.

xoxoxox

Virgil looked up from his pre-flight systems checks as Claire entered the cockpit. Technically he could have taken this test flight alone but he thought the chemist ought to get the chance to experience the result of her hard work first hand.  

If he was being completely honest he found himself seeking out opportunities to spend time alone with Claire.  He pushed those thoughts out of his mind.  Claire was dedicated to her work.  She seemed to enjoy his company but had given no indications that she was interested in him being anything more than a friend.  She was a professional to the core.

“I hope we won’t be needing those” he said, indicating the helmet and rebreather in her hands.

“You and me both, but Scott said to keep all the parts to hand.”

Virgil knew the sense in that.  You never knew what could happen when out on a mission and it paid to be prepared. His own helmet was close at hand.

“So how does it feel?  Does everything fit?”

His eyes raked up and down the petite form, currently clad in the ruddy tones that marked her out as one half of International Rescue’s scientific division. Of course it fitted perfectly. The full body scans taken as part of her medical had ensured that the garment was perfectly sculpted to her form.

He forced his eyes back to her face, hoping she hadn’t noticed his lingering gaze.

“Well the material is a little stiff.  I think the polymer coating is reducing its flexibility.  It also takes far too long to get on.  The biggest problem though is this.”

She spun around revealing the triangle of bare flesh at the top of her back.  

“If the main fastening stays at the back I’m going to have to get changed into uniform en-route so one of you others can buddy check my seals.  I just can’t reach it right.  Please can you finish doing me up?”

Virgil felt a lump form in his throat.

Claire held her ponytail out of the way so Virgil could finish closing the zip without snagging her hair.  A firm hand then ran slowly up her spine from base to neck, sealing shut the protective flap that covered the zip.  Claire’s body tingled in response.  Her mind wandered, imagining those same strong hands reversing the action later and freeing her from her uniform.  She gave herself a mental shake.  This was Virgil.  A colleague. It was…inappropriate.

Virgil returned to the pilot’s seat while Claire took the co-pilot’s side that was normally occupied by Gordon.  

This would be her first time being piloted by Virgil but not her first time flying in Thunderbird Two.  That first trip was tainted with bad memories.  Her first flight had been spent in worried silence.  Gordon at the controls.  Virgil in the med bay, out cold from the dart she had been responsible for shooting. She was still haunted by visions of Virgil crashing to the floor of the conference centre, the dart stuck in his chest.

The atmosphere in the cockpit today was excited rather then worried, but still serious.

The ability to control the Thunderbirds remotely meant that several test ignitions had been trailed but this would be the first true flight using the new fuel. The chance to test if reality lived up to expectations.

Virgil opened the comms link to both island control and Thunderbird Five.

“Pre-flight checks complete.  Everything responding as expected.  Thunderbird Two is ready for take off.”

“I’ll be keeping a running watch on your systems readouts and I’ll keep comms open,” John responded, his hologram floating above the control console.  “Stick to you pre-programmed route I’ve sent you. I’ve alerted the GDF that you are on manoeuvres so we can expect a call from Aunt Val later.”

“Why are the GDF involved?” Claire asked.

“Just common courtesy.  We give the GDF a rough flight plan and they alert any military operational in the area. It saves any cases of mistaken identity. We don’t want Two shot down again.” John replied.

Claire looked alarmed.

“That only happened the once, Johnny.”  Virgil had still never truly forgiven the US Navy for crippling his beautiful ‘bird.

“Yeah, well that was once too many.”

Scott’s voice cut in.  “If you two have quite finished…”

The rock wall disguising the hangar entrance lowered as Scott activated the mechanism from inside the villa.

Virgil taxied his Thunderbird out on to the launch pad.  The pad tilted upwards and the view from the cockpit changed from one of sea to one of sky.

Virgil directed power towards the thrusters.

An intense roar filled the cockpit.  Vibrations built up in intensity.  The mighty craft slid forwards and took to the skies.

“Thunderbird Two is go.”

xoxoxox

Virgil concentrated intently on the flight.  He had spent so many hours flying Thunderbird Two that he was fully attuned to her quirks and moods.  He felt each difference in response and behaviour without the need to check the instruments for confirmation.  The engine pitch was slightly lower.  The vibrations slightly stronger.  He tried a few turns and altitude adjustments and was pleased to see that Two responded just as well as before.

It was time to test her for speed.

Virgil eased the throttle forwards.  Scott’s voice came over the comms, reading out their velocity in increments.

“6,000 kilometres per hour.”

“6,500 kilometres per hour.”

“7,000 kilometres per hour.  Approaching previous top speed.”

Virgil continued to push the throttle.  He could feel that Two had more to give.

“8,000 kilometres per hour.”

“9,000 kilometres per hour.”

As each increment was read out the tone became excited.

“10,000 kilometres per hour.”

Claire looked across at Virgil.  A huge grin was plastered across his face at the raw power under his control.  It was as if Two was singing to him.  She hummed as he pushed the throttle to the maximum.

“!0,200 kilometre per hour” he whooped.  “Maximum throttle reached.  Easing off now and returning to base.”

“FAB Virgil.  See you back home soon.”

The pure delight Virgil was experiencing was evident.  He practically bounced as he guided the craft back over the Pacific Ocean. Their island home was soon visible again.

Virgil switched to VTOLs and brought them in to land.

xoxoxox

The two occupants of the cockpit grinned at each other, their eyes shining.  They were buoyed by the thrill of success.

Harnesses were released.

Claire found herself enveloped in one of Virgil’s bear hugs.  The air nearly crushed out of her body by his exuberance, her body held firmly against his chest.  She found herself returning the hug, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying herself in those powerful muscles.

“You did it!  You actually did it!”

Virgil was still riding the high of emotion.  Claire’s feet lifted off the floor in the engineer’s delight.  When she was placed back down she felt a kiss planted on the top of her head.

The pair of them both stilled and stiffened as the action registered.  

Claire looked up to meet warm brown eyes that looked ashamed, scared…hopeful?

Virgil cursed his lack of self-control.  In that one unguarded moment he had risked everything.  Claire had changed a lot since coming to the island but she could still be prickly on occasion.  Her flares of temper were becoming less frequent; there was more laughter, more enjoyment in being part of a team, but she had never invited him to cross this line.

Virgil braced himself for the backlash.

The backlash never came.

Their eyes remained locked.  Neither let go of the other.  Arms continued to encircle bodies pressed close together.

Claire found herself sinking into those chestnut depths.

Lips tentatively met, at first hesitant with the fear of rejection, then pressed more firmly as each explored the object of their secret desires.  Neither wanted to that moment to end.  Blue pressed against rust, the colour the only way of distinguishing the entwined bodies.

When they finally broke apart, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, Claire reflected that she might not have got the research grant but she had surely won the greatest Tracy prize of all.

-FIN-

[hiuythn]

sorry to ask, but i saw u shared hc for the sick anon, im going thru a rough patch and ur fic rly cheered me up. Can i get some hcs as well?

this is how keith asks lance to marry him:

so we all know how from the beginning, from the moment things got resolved at the end of tnahp, that keith’s been upfront about never leaving lance. everyone knows he’s going to put a ring on that. he’s said it to lance’s face. “what else am i gonna do with you?”

it’s not until six years later that he actually does anything though. mostly bc of the war and the aftermath.

the team are in a meeting with the coalition, boring stuff, routine stuff, and the mind link is closed, bc sometimes keith and lance need breaks. he’s lucky that it was, though, because what happens next in his mind would’ve been enough to make lance fall out of his seat and ruin the meeting and coran would’ve killed them both lmao

lance is paying attention even though he looks just as bored as keith. diligent, as always. he’s even got a holoscreen projected, taking lazy notes. there are faint little sketches of the coalition members and the team. one is of shiro, snoring, comical Zs above his head. keith bites down on his cheek.

lance is twirling the pen in his left hand.

keith looks at that and thinks, loud and clear, there should be a ring on his finger.

he sits back.

huh.

it should be a surprise, he decides after a quiet minute. lance deserves that. it should be at the right moment, the right words, the right place. it should be soft and genuine and such a sweet shock that it takes lance seconds to reply. it should make his blue eyes fill with tears, it should make him curl into a ball before keith, who’ll still be kneeling, ring box open and laughing at him because wow, that’s nice reaction, lance. it should be a proposal so perfect that it makes lance kind of mad, makes him shove keith, makes him pout that frustrated-loving-happy pout.

(bros, as a gay, this is kind of really fucking gay)

keith spends the rest of the meeting laying out proposal plans. lance gets exasperated when he finds out keith remembers nothing of the meeting. “dude, you--tell me again, who’s the leader of voltron, here?” “it’s allura.” “....okay, but who flies bl--”

and some people might ask, what’s the point, if you’re already levertan-married? if you’ve mind-linked and basically achieved the pinnacle of ‘joining hands in holy matrimony’?

keith’s answer would probably be something like ‘fuck off, i love him that’s why’

(ngl that’s hella romantic. no? just me?)

the long answer is that he knows lance is a romantic. that he really likes gestures of affection, that his face gets all rosy and he always tries to bite back his smiles, and he gets so pleased and flustered and also adorably angry every time keith does anything for him. keith’s in love with that. he goes absolutely dumb over making lance happy, he’s fucking obsessed with it. every neuron in keith’s stupid head is devoted to lance like 24/7.

(it’s a given that lance is the same, if not worse. how tf do they get anything done?)

plus, levertan-married doesn’t really mean the same as human-married.

so keith--somehow--manages to pull off thinking up proposal plans without closing the link, without lance knowing--maybe bc his thoughts are purposefully fragmented like ‘white chocolate? milk?’ or ‘speakers? mic?’ or ‘beach sand feels sandy’ and yes it sounds absolutely dumb but it’s clever because after a while lance tunes it out. though, at the beginning, it really fucking worried him because it sounded like keith was having a stroke LMAO

over the next couple months, keith steadily puts his plan together: get the ring, figure out what to say, speak to allura about detouring to earth for some r&r, speak to shiro about not fucking things up for keith because i know you’ll do that somehow shiro no are you serious of course you would you’re evil do you even remember that time i said no to inviting people for my fourteenth birthday and you did it anyway even though i was looking forward to just playing video games for the whole day??? i had to deal with james griffin in my goddamn house you ass--

the day keith asks, everything--surprisingly--goes really well? like suspiciously so. like keith’s really glad but he’s itching to reach for his knife by the end of it, bc he was prepared for shiro to have done sth by now. 

but nah, keith and lance have a lovely day hanging out, doing activities keith planned and things lance spontaneously suggests. the weather is a perfect breezy, sunny day. when the sun sets they wordlessly head for the beach. lance chases keith though the surf. they throw clumps of wet sand at each other. keith hoists lance in his arms, listening to him yell as keith spins them around. lance picks him up and tosses him into the shallows, that fucking jerk. lance gets keith to forgive him. lance gives keith his shirt, goes half-naked for keith’s shivering form. ‘i’m going to get a cold,’ lance says. ‘and i’m not?’ keith snorts. they walk down the beach and lance tells him stories, pointing to this rock or that spot and saying oh i broke my arm there or dude i saved a baby turtle from a seagull that day and keith soaks it all up like he’s the sand and lance is the ocean waves, coming back to him every time.

lance hops onto a rock, demonstrating to keith how he used to pretend he was a sea prince looking for mermaids. the winds play with his hair, the setting sun brushing golden against his bare chest and the grin on his lips. like this, he’s a foot or two taller than keith.

keith gets down on one knee.

it’s lance’s fault that the ring box is damp, but he’s lucky this thing is olkari-made, because when keith opens it up, the ring shines just as bright as lance. almost as bright. it tries its best but keith really only has eyes for his soulmate.

keith says:

every day, i want to choose you. every day, i want to get to choose you. every day, growing up like i did, was spent learning what i needed to live, what food or drink or mantra was needed to make it another day alone. my body forced to me to focus on its needs, on the bare essentials. if i went a month without a caring touch, it didn’t matter, because it hadn’t killed me yet.

before i fell for you, i don’t think i knew what it meant to want. i never had a chance to think about it, a second to indulge. if i wanted a home, a family, it was a weakness, a distraction, and i couldn’t let myself admit it. so i never learned to want.

the only other thing that comes closest to what i feel for you is probably flying. it’s that addiction to diving through the clouds, it’s free-falling, it’s soaring with my heart in my throat. and even then, even now that i know you, it doesn’t quite compare. it’s a poor substitute.

in this world we exist in, where some force out there knows exactly what we need, who we need, it’s kind of a miracle that i still got to choose you. i’m glad i got the moments where it hurt to think of you, because i wanted you so bad i couldn’t stand not having you. i’m glad i got to slowly realize that you were everything to me, on my own time. it was my own conclusion, my own resolution to love you because you were you, and not because you were someone i was supposed to love. the universe kind of tricked us, but i think she meant well.

and now i know, that even in a world where soulmates didn’t exist....i know i’d still want you.

i want to want you, every day. i want to wake up wanting you, every day, fall asleep wanting you every night. i want to leave for missions wanting you, want to stay behind watching you go, wanting you to return faster than you can. i want you to want me, too. i want a ring on our fingers, reminding me that you do, that you feel the same and you always will.

i want to marry you, lance mcclain.

will you marry me?

[raendown]

Happy Christmas everyone! To celebrate: the first chapter of a commission for the ever excellent @writhingbeneathyou! 

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5957 Chapter: 1/5 Rated: T+ Summary: They wake in a forest far from home. Bodies lay dead and broken across the clearing. All they can remember is their names.(Madara falls in love with a single look.)

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 1

The first bit of reality to intrude itself upon him was the headache. A pounding on the inside of his skull unlike anything he would think the human body was capable of. Either his head was about to spontaneously implode or a herd of elephants had been busy stampeding over his temples while he slept.

Speaking of which, he couldn’t remember falling asleep. Or where he was. Or much of anything, really. Madara kept his eyes closed and extended his senses to the world around him, a natural action that he gave no thought to until he’d already done it and realized he couldn’t remember how he knew to do that. Something, he concluded, was very wrong. Panic threatened to rise up and overwhelm him but it was kept at bay as his senses spread and he encountered what could only be described as a center of calm.

Eyes cracking open, Madara groggily blinked at what appeared to be an open forest canopy above him, sunlight filtering through deep green leaves. When he rolled his head to the side he was met with the sight of a bemused looking man with no pigment in either his skin or his hair. The only colors on him were the red streaks painted on his face and the blue lacquer of his heavy armor. But the feeling of him. Underneath the confusion Madara could somehow feel his presence and the sensations playing against him brought to mind words like ‘ocean’ and ‘still water’ and, most oddly of all, ‘calm home’. Having the other man there calmed the anxiety and the terror of realizing he couldn’t remember a single thing except his own name and by Madara's logic that could only mean one thing.

Clearly they must know each other. Trust each other. Obviously this man was important to him somehow.

Knowing the unstable emotions he himself was experiencing, he decided it would probably be best to wait and see if his companion was going through something similar. If they were both panicking then making sudden movements wouldn’t help anything. He rather hoped the other did know what going on, though. It would be nice to find out what they were doing that led them here and where they were supposed to go now. Where was home?

Waiting turned out to be a good choice. As was the decision to remain prone on the ground as he had been when he awoke. If he’d been standing then he wasn’t sure his knees would not have buckled out from underneath him when the man at his side turned and hit him with a doe eyed look, red irises sparkling in the dappled sunlight. Heart thundering in his chest, Madara blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I think I love you.”

“Ah?”

“Shit, I mean, hi? Do you know where we are? Do you know who we are?”

The man blinked slowly and tilted his head to one side like a confused animal. “No. To both questions. We appear to be in a forest and I feel no hostility at your presence so my first guess would be that we know each other but that’s as much information as I have.” His head lifted to tilt in the other direction. “Do you feel romantically towards me? Perhaps there’s a reason we’re here together.”

He didn’t seem to be panicking the way Madara was. Lucky.

“I feel…attraction. And distress. Not knowing where or who I am isn’t really ideal but I feel like I’m safer with you here. Is that weird?”

“Not if I feel the same, I suppose. Explaining why would be difficult but there is a certain reassurance in your presence. Your…hm. I can’t seem to recall the word for it. The feel of you even though we’re not physically touching.” His companion twisted pale lips from side to side in thought and Madara had to force himself to look away from the movement.

“You feel like cool waters,” he offered, puffing his chest out slightly to receive a pleased look for his efforts.

“Then you understand what I’m talking about, yes. I would describe your presence as smoke and heat with an undercurrent of something sharp. Like the tang of copper on my tongue but more pleasant. Words really do not do it justice.”

Madara hummed with amusement. “How poetic.” Then he grinned when the other man scowled a little.

“Oh shut up.”

Such a transaction between them felt completely natural. Maybe that was how they flirted with each other? It certainly felt like flirting, what with the way the other had turned his head away only to peek back with the echoes of a smile forming at the edge of his lips. His mouth was almost as pretty as his eyes. Madara allowed his gaze to linger there for a few moments, happy that his original assumption of some relationship between them seemed more and more to be true, but eventually he dragged his attention away to focus on other things.

A quick scan told him that the clearing they had woken in was not quite the pristine, undisturbed utopia that he’d gotten a first impression of from staring up at the canopy. The ground close by had been torn up by what could only be human intervention and several of the nearby trees were marked with missing chunks of bark or suspicious stains. Most telling, however, were the bodies. Or rather he should say his reaction to the bodies was the most telling. Several men and women scattered the far side of the clearing in various states of maiming, a few of them charred to a crisp and others removed from certain body parts. Yet here he sat surveying the damage with no bile in his throat, no distaste for the macabre tableau before him, only a very enveloping sort of calm and a vague hope that he had been the cause of so much damage. Whoever did all this must have had fun.

“Do you think there’s any clues to be found here about who we are?” he asked.

“If it helps, I believe my name is Tobi. No…Tobirama.”

“Tobirama.” Madara rolled the name around a few times. “I like the sound of that; you do look like a Tobirama. Mine is Madara, I think.”

A quick once over of his own body revealed very little in the way of identification, though it did reveal that he was wearing a headband with the same symbol etched in to it as the happuri Tobirama was wearing. Yet another sign that they were connected in some way or at least part of a group together. It was nice to know he belonged somewhere.

Having traded names and found no other identification on themselves the two set about exploring the carnage around them. Bodies were turned over, dismembered heads were rolled closer to the epicenter, and pockets were rifled through. They found a lot of interesting tidbits yet at the end of it all Madara couldn’t say he knew any more about what happened than he had when he sat up and looked at the scene for the first time. Or maybe the second time. Clearly if he’d woken up here then he must have passed out here at some point so he probably saw this all happen even if he didn’t remember it right now. Hopefully he would soon.

With no idea where they had come from the next thing to do was decide where to go, made harder by the fact that they had no idea either where they were or what direction they might find some sort of town in. After a quick debate Tobirama mentioned that he was pretty sure he could feel a large collection of other presences off to the east so, without any better options, they headed that way. It took a couple hours but eventually Madara too was able to feel the massive collection of other ‘people sensations’ as he had dubbed them in his head. Even if no one there knew them maybe someone could explain how the hell he was feeling where people were without being able to see them.

The town, when they finally arrived, was of no help in any of the regards he was hoping for. By the way many of the people were looking at them he had assumed someone would be able to provide an identity of some sort but their questions were all met with evasive answers and vague words about shinobi. His guess was that ‘shinobi’ meant some kind of warrior but obviously they had figured as much for themselves. The armor and the battlefield were enough hints for that.

All hope was not lost, however, as one person did manage to give them a bit of information by accident, cursing them as the ‘beasts of Konoha’ which Madara had to admit was a pretty cool moniker. He really hoped that was actually their name and not just a superstitious insult of some kind. Konoha at least gave them a point of inquiry to keep asking around and despite the many strange looks they continued to get eventually someone helpfully sketched out a map on a teahouse napkin to show them where the village was located. Tobirama held the little napkin in a firm yet careful grip as they thanked the man, both of them happy to have a name for a place that might be home.

Unfortunately the journey there was supposed to be ‘three days by their speeds’, whatever that was supposed to mean, so there was still quite a bit of time left before they found more answers. Travelling wasn’t so bad with such a captivating companion at his side but Madara did wish he could get rid of the nagging feeling at the back of his mind telling him that he was forgetting something. He was more than aware that he’d forgotten something.

He’d forgotten everything.

Still, things weren’t terrible with Tobirama there. They made easy conversation as they wandered their way through what they eventually learned was called Fire Country in direct opposition of the rains threatening them over the course of their entire journey. Thankfully the deluge managed to hold itself in check until they found an inn on the second day, at which point it came pouring down from the sky as though the gods were angry and this their chosen vengeance. Scowling out through the window, hoping this stupid weather was over by the time they set out tomorrow, Madara thought to himself that it was a fairly effective vengeance. Water could be dangerous. Obviously he couldn’t think of any specific reason for him to think that but it was a knowledge he felt deep in his bones.

“Oh.” A soft exclamation from behind drew his attention probably faster than a loud shout would have. Madara spun to find Tobirama with his eyes wide and his hands out in front of him bearing a small mountain of scrolls that he could swear had not been in the room before.

“Where did you get those?” he asked.

“From my arm.”

Madara blinked. “What?”

“This tattoo here on my wrist.” Tobirama nodded vaguely in the direction of his left hand. “It doesn’t match the rest of the markings on my body so I was tracing it and it felt like there was some energy coming from it. What else was I supposed to do? I tried to imitate the energy. Then suddenly I’m holding an armful of scrolls that- I swear they just popped in to existence!”

“I believe you. I just…can’t believe you.” He shrugged when Tobirama gave him an exasperated look, unsure how else to phrase it.

So far Tobirama hadn’t shown himself to be the lying sort but there was an undeniably fantastical element to the idea that scrolls – or anything really – could just poof themselves in to existence. To make up for his lack of faith he moved over to help set all the scrolls down so they could sort through the mess and figure out what extra madness they had just materialized. From thin air. As one does.

Madara couldn’t say whether it was normal or not so he elected not to get all worked up about it.

For the most part each of the scrolls were fairly identical with only minor differences. A few of them had actual writing covering the parchment but the rest all depicted the same large sprawling pattern of concentric circles and kanji that didn’t seem connected to each other in any significant way. What differentiated them was the small list in the bottom left corner of each scroll. One list contained toiletry items, another listed all the necessities for camping out in the woods, and yet another contained a list of foods that Madara's empty stomach would have appreciated very much just then. Without any money they’d been filling their bellies with whatever edible flora they happened across on their journey. Ironically money was listed on one of the scrolls as well.

“Wish we could make this shit poof in to existence as well,” he grumbled to himself, rereading the food list and listening to his stomach growl. Tobirama lifted the scroll in his own hands and squinted at the design.

“This looks remarkably similar to the design on my wrist. I wonder…”

He spread a random scroll out across the single bed they had paid for by working in the kitchen for a few hours each. Before Madara could ask him to finish his train of thought he was spreading his hand out on the design and pushing against the parchment, reaching for it in a way Madara couldn’t describe even as he felt it happening. A moment later they both cried out in surprise as an open bag of toiletries appeared in a puff of smoke, falling over to spill its contents on to the threadbare covers.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Tobirama admitted. “Although in retrospect I realize that I should have been.”

“TOOTHPASTE!” Awe and mystery dissipated like smoke in favor of snatching up the small white tube of heaven and darting in to the bathroom. There was no telling which of those toothbrushes had been his own but Madara didn’t care. He had ten perfectly healthy fingers to rub the paste across his teeth, cleaning his mouth out with more than river water for the first time in days. When he came back out Tobirama was visibly trying to contain his laughter.

“Always nice to see one’s efforts appreciated,” he said.

Madara flushed. “Yeah. Thanks. That’s…a really neat trick you’ve figured out.”

“Indeed. Now that I know how to remove items from these scrolls I believe we should have access to whatever is listed in the corner of each. The only problem is that I’m not sure how to get the items back in to whatever pocket dimension they’re stored in.”

“Pocket dimension?”

His companion shrugged. “An assumption. I can’t imagine how else things could appear out of nowhere like that if they’re not stored somewhere.”

“Well maybe they exist somewhere else and that funky design just…moves them. From there to here. Like an instant transport through that pocket dimension instead of being stored inside it. Would that make sense?” Madara fought down the urge to squirm as Tobirama’s head swung around to pin him in place.

“I have never found you more attractive.”

“Uh?”

“Sorry. I don’t know where that came from. Okay I lied, I’m not sorry, you being smart is incredibly attractive and I suddenly have very little interest in experimenting with these scrolls anymore. Do you want to make out instead?”

None of the words trying to come out of his mouth seemed to be working properly so Madara settled for nodding frantically and throwing himself across the bed. It probably wasn’t his most graceful move ever but as far as his memory went this was his first kiss and Tobirama didn’t seem to mind his bumbling too much so he chose not to focus on anything other than the feeling of pale lips under his own and the sound of toiletries scattering as they were pushed off the bed. A little enthusiasm never hurt anyone.

As they had for the last couple of nights the two of them shared blankets when they went to sleep, though their rather enthusiastic kisses did not lead to anything more intimate. Madara tried not to ask himself whether they might have if they had any oil or other lubricants. That was one ‘what if’ he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. Waking up in the morning was a slow lazy process with dark hair wrapped around their limbs and another round of slow kisses to drag them both out of dreamland and be ready for the day ahead. The more time they spent together the more it became obvious that their first instincts were right. Surely they must have been in a relationship for quite some time before whatever incident took their memories. They fit too well together for anything else to be true.

Madara wanted to preen every time he thought about it. Clearly Tobirama was a great catch and he was the one who caught the man. He wished he knew whose face to rub that in.

The stranger who sent them towards Konoha had told them it would only be a three day journey but they must have somehow been travelling much too slow since it actually ended up taking them double that to find themselves on the edge of quite an impressive looking village surrounded by thick walls and nearly overwhelming on both of their senses. The only way in without jumping those walls seemed to be through a set of massively tall gates where two soldier types were standing guard, bodies languid but their eyes alert for anything.

“You think we’re allowed in?” Madara asked from one corner of his mouth.

“Supposedly we live here,” Tobirama pointed out. “We can only be right or wrong and we won’t know which until we attempt to gain entry.”

“Right. Here goes nothing.”

Wrapping himself in as much confidence as he could muster Madara stepped out from the cover of the forest and headed straight for that much too tall gate, keeping his eyes straight ahead in an attempt to give the impression that he knew he belonged here. Tobirama’s presence just a step behind did wonders to keep him calm as they approached the guards but to his amazement none of his worrying had been necessary. One of the women nodded to him while the other lifted a hand in silent greeting. Neither of them made a move to deny entrance or even really seemed to give them a second glance. Madara felt rather like a secret infiltrator as they continued on to streets positively teeming with people from all walks of life, civilians rubbing elbows with shinobi, craftsmen sharing space with the village elite. Not one of them suspected the two pretenders who had just walked in amongst their numbers.

It took a bit of dodging to get back out of the crowds but Tobirama managed to find an opening to pull him down an alleyway so they could talk about what their next move should be. If they had been using their brains they would have discussed this beforehand but both of them had been just a little too excited to finally find a place they might call home, to find answers to the growing list of questions they had about themselves. After a long discussions laying out all the possible paths for them to take they decided together that it would probably be best for them to seek out whoever was in charge of this place. The man they spoke to in that first town had referred to them as the beasts of Konoha, which implied a certain notoriety, and that in turn meant rank. Following that logic, if they were highly ranked in this place then they should be recognizable to the ones in charge.

As it turned out, they were right. Much more right than they could have imagined.

“Tobi! Mads! Thank the ancestors!” Watching the man behind the desk stand up from his seat was like watching a tree sprout in fast motion; it was almost a surprise that he didn’t hit the ceiling when he leapt over the massive desk to hurl himself across the room in their direction. Heading for the center of the town had been a good idea. “You guys were due back a full week ago, I was so worried that something had happened!”

“Funny you should say that,” Tobirama murmured, his eyes skittering to the side to meet with Madara's. When they looked back the tree of a man in front of them was clasping both hands around thick chunks of his long brown hair.

“Oh no! What happened? Is everything okay? You both look okay! But then if you’re not injured what took so long for you to get back? Please say neither of you is hiding any injuries again because I swear I will cry on you for at least an hour!” The serious tone of voice made it clear he was not telling a joke but Madara still squinted at him to make sure he was serious. What a ridiculous threat. Yet judging by the wetness already gathering in the man’s eyes he could guess that it was a threat he was indeed prepared to follow through on.

Resisting the urge to take a step away from the oddball before them, Madara cleared his throat to take attention away from his partner, sacrificing himself instead. “No physical injuries, just a bit of, ah, mental complications.”

“I’m afraid to ask what that means…you guys weren’t fighting again were you?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Tobirama assured the man. “We’re as happy as ever.”

For whatever reason that seemed to bring him up short. A look of suspicion narrowed his wide brown eyes, darting back and forth between them, until eventually Madara couldn’t take it anymore. Something about that face demanded honesty. There was a sort of naivety there one might expect on a child and it was only compounded by the way he was still clasping both hands under his chin.

“We sort of lost our memories. Both of us. Can’t remember shit. Well, we remembered our names and we know we’re dating but that’s about it. Someone had to point us back here; couldn’t even remember where we came from.”

Considering the shocking nature of his news he could totally understand the choked spluttering, though he rather wished the man would be a little less dramatic about it. A bit of surprise was fine – hell, a lot of surprise was fine – but he would have preferred not to have the man’s spittle rain over their faces as he tried to find the words to react to their situation. Madara was rather proud of himself for keeping his temper in check until finally the choking ended.

“Yes! Dating! And names! Very good, very – ah – we should get you both to a healer!” His eyes almost seemed ready to fall out of his head as he took them both by the arm and stepped towards the door only to stop dead. “Wait, I’m a healer. Let’s sit you both down!”

“Perhaps you could start with introducing yourself?” Tobirama suggested.

“Brother! I’m your- my name is Hashirama. You’re my little brother. And Madara is my best friend!”

“All in the family then, I suppose.”

For whatever reason Tobirama’s words set off another round of spluttering but at least this time there was no spray of saliva. “Oh. Ha ha. You could say that! Hey, until we get you both a little more caught up on whatever you’ve forgotten maybe you shouldn’t talk to anyone else? You never know, erm, what you might accidentally give away to the wrong person. Since you’re both so high profile and all.”

“What could we possibly give away when we can’t remember anything?” Madara scoffed but stopped when Tobirama laid a hand on his wrist.

“No, he’s got a point. There may be information we don’t even realize we remember and a breach of security like that could be detrimental. I say we humor him.” All it took was lifting one eyebrow and he had Madara wrapped around his finger yet again, trading smiles like it was their first date.

When they looked back at Hashirama to agree with his idea he was staring at them bug-eyed.

“Right. Glad that’s…cleared up. Sit down, please, sit down. I’ll look you both over as much as I can and you can ask your questions. We might have to get a Yamanaka in here to look deeper but maybe I can help on my own.” His ushering took on a little more of a frantic feeling. Maybe he didn’t like their PDA, which Madara supposed he could understand if Tobirama really was his brother. If he had siblings he probably wouldn’t want to watch them getting fresh with someone else right there in front of him.

“Some answers would be appreciated,” he admitted as he and Tobirama sank down on to a rather squashy yellow couch. “Right now all we know is our names and yours. Catch us up a little more, the most important things we should know, that sort of thing.”

“Oh there’s lots of things you should know…”

Indeed there was. Evidently Madara really did have a brother, the last surviving of four. The village of Konoha was only three years old and he had helped build it after Hashirama and he conceived of the idea as children. Children! From warring clans! Theirs must be a particularly strong friendship to survive so many years and the enmity of their people. He was grinning smugly as the man continued filling them in on any other pertinent information such as their living situation – apparently he and Tobirama were not living together yet, an actual travesty – and their actual positions within the governing body. After covering their family situations and the fact that both of them were also technically heads of their clans Hashirama sat back with a baffled expression on his face.

Madara decided he did not like that expression. The green glow of chakra – now that Hashirama had jogged his memory on what chakra was called – faded from his hands as they dropped to fiddle with each other restlessly in his lap.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “We might have to get a Yamanaka to check you guys out after all because I just can’t find anything wrong. None of your neural pathways are misfiring, there’s no injury in the area, so as far as I can see there’s no reason for either of you to have lost your memories.”

“How comforting,” Tobirama murmured.

“Yeah, just what I need. Another stranger poking around in my head.” Madara instantly felt a flash of guilt when Hashirama crumpled, though he refused to let it show on his face.

“But I’m not a stranger, not to either of you!”

Leaning a little closer to his partner, Madara grunted. “Best friends, yes, I heard you. I just don’t remember right now and it’s a really freaky experience. Imagine not even knowing you had siblings? Or that three of them were already in the ground? I’m sure that devastated me when it happened but right now? It means nothing to me. And it feels weird that it means nothing to me!”

Tobirama patted his knee consolingly and that helped a little. Apparently they both had brothers to mourn yet all Madara could think about was how odd it was for two families to have so many children yet not a daughter in sight. That probably wasn’t the part he was meant to focus on. Either his guilt must have shown on his face or Hashirama could sense that something had made him uncomfortable because the man was up in the next moment and gently encouraging them to stay here in this office while he sent for someone who would apparently be able to help them figure out what had happened to their memories. Madara couldn’t say he regretted seeing the man go but neither was he particularly relieved. Knowing intellectually that they were best friends did little to automatically recreate the bond he was sure they had forged over the years.

Simply put, Hashirama meant no more or less to him than any other average person off the street.

As soon as they were alone he turned to his partner and pulled Tobirama in for a slow kiss, drinking in the pleased hum that rumbled up in response. When they parted Tobirama rested their foreheads together with an adorably dopey look in his eyes.

“What was that for?”

“Needed to feel something a little more familiar,” Madara grunted, a little embarrassed.

“Happy to provide that any time you need it.” His partner leered and Madara shoved him lightly, though he did nothing to hide the smile parting his lips.

Since there wasn’t much else to keep them occupied while they waited for Hashirama to return Madara decided there was really no harm in getting a few more kisses to pass the time. It was an effective distraction, enough so that neither of them were the least bit bored and even managed to forget their surroundings for Hashirama's return to startle them. The feeling of his presence felt a lot like empty woods somehow so maybe it wasn’t that odd for neither of them to feel his approach but the woman he had brought with him had a very sharp sensation like needles waiting for the order to pierce.

“Very interesting,” was all she had to say. Instead of greeting either of them she moved to stand over the couch with both hands on her hips and a narrow-eyed look on her face which screamed ‘scientific observations’. Tobirama didn’t seem very put off by it but Madara couldn’t say he cared for being watched like that.

“Did we know you?” he asked, his tone as blunt as her gaze.

“Very well. We scream at each other in council meetings all the time. You hate my guts, Uchiha-san, but perhaps when you regain your memories this will stand as proof that I am not the heartless harpy you seem to think I am.”

“I think the words he usually uses are ‘heartless robot’,” Hashirama chipped in helpfully. Then he melted back with a sheepish expression as all three of them turned to raise an eyebrow in almost perfect sync. Nervous, apologetic, he waved them back to their conversation and indicated that he would be out of the way somewhere over by his desk.

After watching to make sure that he did intend to stay out of her way the woman turned back to them and introduced herself as the matriarch of the Yamanaka clan. She gave no name so Madara supposed she must expect a certain formality between them, which was fine. He didn’t need her to be super cuddly with him. All she needed to do was tell him what happened to his memories. To do that she had to get right up in his personal space, however, and while he didn’t appreciate that he did his best to stay still like she asked while two clammy hands took hold of his head and foreign chakra seeped in to his mind.

Whatever she got up to in there was not a pleasant experience for him. Nothing really solid came to him but a few disjointed images flashed behind his eyes and several rounds of colorful light before finally the presence in his head receded and he realized he had a death grip on Tobirama’s hand to keep him steady. He shook himself to clear away the sensation of having someone else inside a part of him that should always remain solitary, looking back to his partner to find a grimly resigned expression looking back. No words were needed for Tobirama to understand that his turn would not be fun but neither did they need to speak for Madara to nod that he would be here as Tobirama had been for him. They were a team.

From the tight grip that took his hand he gathered that his guesses were right and the experience of whatever this woman was doing was no more pleasant for Tobirama than it had been for him. His only comfort was that she didn’t look particularly worried or upset when she finally pulled away and his partner was free to shake himself clear of her the same way he had, the same vague irritation furrowing between those pale white brows.

“I have good news and medium news.”

“Oh thank goodness, I was hoping there would be no bad news.” Hashirama wiped his brow as if he had actually been sweating with stress, oblivious to the judgmental eye of the Yamanaka woman.

“Yes, most people hope for that,” she said. “The good news is that this state is not permanent and I was able to find the cause.”

Tobirama sat forward intently. “But not remove it?”

“No and that would be the medium news. There is a fine net of chakra layered over the same portion of both your brains and its purpose seems to be inhibiting long term recall.  Removing it would be a delicate process and we would run the risk of damaging the area. However, given enough time the chakra should deteriorate and be dissolved by your own so it’s simply a matter of waiting and your memories will be returned to you. Days or weeks or even months, I cannot say.”

“I think I am on Hashirama's side in this,” Tobirama mused. “At least none of that was truly bad news.”

“Wow.” Hashirama let out a low whistle.

“What?”

“You’re never on my side!”

Madara burst out laughing. Suddenly it felt a lot more natural to see the two of them as brothers. That certainly sounded like something an older brother would say. He hoped he had the same kind of relationship with his own insofar unknown sibling.

The two of them began to bicker and Madara settled himself against the back of the couch to listen with a smile hovering around the edges of his lips. He may not have known to come here until the way was pointed out for him but he was glad that he had made it; this place felt like home. It was hard to put his finger on why but he wasn’t all that concerned with questioning his own feelings or looking at them too deeply. Just having the emotions was enough, they didn’t need explanations.

Knowing that his memories would eventually come back on their own was enough too, surprisingly. As long as he had Tobirama with him they could ride this wave together until they reached the shore and all was well again. Obviously one of them would be staying at the others house until they could remember whose they actually spent more time at, Madara wasn’t really picky where since neither house held any particular meaning for him at the moment, but if he had his way Tobirama would spend as little time out of his sight as possible for the next while. That Yamanaka woman hadn’t been very specific on how long this unsettling emptiness in his mind would last.

But, he reminded himself with calming certainty, this too would end. As all things must.

[theplumsoldier]

SPELLBOUND [1]

Summary: you ram into your ex at furys office and find yourself agreeing to meet up with him the next day.

Pairing: steve rogers x reader

Word count: 1573

Warnings: eventual smut, explicit scenes, vulgar language.

Just how long it had been since you had last found yourself lost in his blue ocean-like orbs, you did not know. Only that this time, something was changed. It was no shock; after all, it must have been at least a couple of years and with all the destructive scenes and trying times he had been a victim of.

His hair had grown, wild and long, tucked back and an untamed beard had spread across his face, fading down his neck. On his face, under his eyes, and between his brows rested creases, cutting through his clean once younger skin. A look of worry was like sewn into his face, tugging at the prominent features, but in spite of the aging, weary man, his ensorcelling eyes remained the same.

Your own eyes drowned themselves in a thin glossy layer of tears, threatening to spill the minute he would finally speak. Noticing his chest was heaving heavily just the same as yours, you were relieved that it was not just you being transfixed by the other.

Your name left his lips and right then and there, you were ready to drop to your knees and bawl your eyes out. Something you had done a lot recently.

The reason behind this reunion was simple and pure in every way, and to be speaking the truth you had not considered ending up in a room with a man you were once head over heels for. It was only now that you stood opposite him, a solid couple of feet keeping you apart, you wondered how on earth you had managed to miss out that particular part.

Fury was the one that had reached out to you, just about a month ago when his people had picked up on a strange phenomenon; odd symbols showing up in patterns and occurrences tracing back to several epochs ago. You, being a woman with extensive knowledge and broad mind concerning what then was only known as peculiar looking sketches on walls and apparent magic commodities, Fury found it appropriate to call in a force he believed could crack the code.

To no one’s surprise, you had nearly no trouble helping the organization he was directing, out of their disarray.

However, to your surprise at some point in the noon, your brief spontaneous meeting with Fury was interrupted by a knock and “come in!” from Nick, earning a look from you.

And into the room stepped a Captain, one you had known from both public and personal view and adored to absolution in said scenarios. He was a man of honor and valor, not to mention his insanely good looks and kind heart. He possessed what most would call ‘the whole package’.

“I–I'm sorry, I didn’t know. . . I was not–”

“What is it, Captain?” spoke Fury in his deep voice. He did not know of your past.

So enthralled by the man before you, you hardly remembered the irritating tension and discontent the room had been filled with moments ago.

He struggled to discontinue his fixated gaze but then managed to take control of himself again, and he formed a comprehensive sentence. “I can come back later–”

“No, what is it?”

Tense, you switched in your seat and readjusted your look back to the director. You had no doubt that Steve was about as uncomfortable as yourself and you figured you would spare him a hard glare. He had always been one to keep his head high and not let the facade even when in the company of his closest, been you knew from experience he did, in fact, stumble over his words at times, especially when his mind was clouded.

“I–well I only came to discuss the A0.3 Commencement. I didn’t know if you had been informed of the files sent around, but it’s–it can wait, really,” explained Captain Rogers further and straightened his back, clearing his throat.

“Yes, well let me get back to you tomorrow, before the meeting.”

“Yes, sir.”

It then went silent and heavy steps sounded before the heavy door shut, letting you know Steve had made his exit.

The rest of the meeting continued, though you slightly absent-minded and in all honesty, you did not feel much brighter after leaving Fury to do his job. Upon leaving the office, you had no chance to grasp it was Steve standing before you, which took you back to when you were standing before him, feeling small and out of breath, wide-eyed.

“Steve. . .” you tasted his name, hardly believing your voice did not break speaking it. It had been oh-so-long. “This is a surprise.”

“I would say so,” nodded he, taking a step closer with his hands tucked away into his trouser’s pockets. “How have you been?”

Always so polite. “Good, I’ve been good.”

“That’s good.”

It went quiet after that and although to you it made you feel somewhat awkward, he felt no such thing as discomfort. His mind was too occupied by thoughts to leave space for the silence filling reality.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and took in your form. Years back, when he loved you with his all and unconditionally, he had believed you were the prettiest and most pure thing he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on and now, somehow someway, you were just that, multiplied by a hundred.

“I should get going, I have–” you were almost glad he interrupted for you really had nowhere to be other than at home with your nose buried in dusty books and a glass of red wine.

“I have been meaning to get in touch with you,” admitted Steve and although it had been his cowardness holding him back more than busy life, he meant it. She had been on his mind for a long time and returned every now and then, keeping him awake on long nights. “I never liked the way we ended things.”

The way you ended things, thought you, and merely inhaled. Wetting your lips with a swift slide of your tongue across your lip, you shrugged and hugged your folders closer to your chest.

“Yeah, it was rather abrupt,” you reminded him and he instantly was taken back to the day, remembering how you cried and begged for him. A shiver went down his spine and he cleared his throat, doing his best to pull a smile, or at least he made a weak attempt.

"I never had the chance to explain myself.”

This was pure torment, standing here in a fragile position, overwhelmed by emotions. You found it difficult to not run into his arms right then, the feeling was missed dearly.

“You seemed very persistent the day you broke us up, that you did not wish to see me again. I figured it would be better to cut you off completely, spare that unpleasant “we can still be friends”-part,” said you and kept your eyes on his, a part of you hoping he could wrap his head around the fact that he had hurt you, and deeply of that.

Steve’s lips parted, expecting a line to form but none did. Could it be he truly had no chance of finding himself in a relationship again? Would it not be with you, he did not wish to find himself in one.

You set marching, beginning to walk down the hall and you only passed Steve by few feet before he spoke up.

“I’ll have you know I hated myself–for a long time. But I did not regret it. It was needed and–”

“Steve please, spare me the embarrassment,” interrupted you, tone harsher than intended.

He took hold of your hand, but you were quick to retrieve it and you gave him a look, hard eyes judging him.

Steve sunk the lump that had coiled up in his throat and he took a small step back, respecting your action. “Y/N I would really enjoy it if you would allow me to explain myself. Tomorrow, maybe? We could meet at a café uptown.”

“I don’t know–I don’t think that would be a great idea,” said you. Even if it was a long time ago, you now realized your heart still longed for him and even if nothing more was to come from it, closure sounded inviting; nice even. What had driven him to do as he had?

“Please, Y/N. I just–I don’t deserve it, your love, your time–you owe me nothing, but it pains me you don’t know why I acted the way I did.”

“The past is the past. I try my best not to dwell in it too much.”

But that was a lie and Steve knew that hence unacceptable. It took some convincing that day in the hall of S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters outside Fury’s office, but you ended up agreeing to meet him the following day. You had no reason to act like it no longer mattered to you. It had been the best and healthiest relationship you had ever been in and it ended like it meant nothing more. You wanted to know why.

You were going to know why.

PART TWO

[daily-rayless]

20 Years of Art

2000

(OC / Celes from Final Fantasy 6 / OC / OC)

The influence of Final Fantasy 6, off of the Anthology collection, and Yoshitaka Amano caused a significant shift in my art, leading my human figures to be very slender, graceful, and frequently pale. Most of it was of women, some of it was of horses, and by then I was very self-consciously starting to draw men. I mostly worked in pencils and colored pencils. Faces were oval with high hairlines and long, sharp, narrow noses. Also note my evident fear of mouth-seams and lower eyelids. I was pretty terrible at coloring, often feeling that coloring one of my sketches ruined all the nice linework.

2001

(Quistis from Final Fantasy 8 / Rosa from Final Fantasy 4? / Schala from Chrono Trigger / Dark Knight OC from Final Fantasy 4)

This is where more anime influences came in, and I consciously took on a semi-anime, semi-realistic (in my own mind) style. My ideal of beauty was overbig eyes, overlong nose, and oversmall mouth, and I stuck to it pretty relentlessly. Trying to figure out shadows and face structure. Still bad at coloring. I was incredibly proud of that charcoal picture. Was also going through my mandatory Dark 'n Edgy phase, with a big helping of Phantom of the Opera, Sarah Brightman, and my attempts at designing supercool clothes, many of which I wouldn't have actually worn, even given the opportunity.

2002

(Me trying to recreate “Flaming June” / OC, who incidentally looks almost exactly like Sarah Brightman and whose diadem was bodily lifted from a Jodi Lee painting / angsty symbolic wet chain lady / OC)

Deep in the Dark 'n Edgy. Faces are still very heavily made-up, with big lashes, defined upper eyelids, and dark lips. Trying very hard to be a good artist though, have high expectations for the future. I was so proud of that final pose and worked so hard on it. Lined paper? So not a problem. Besides, how else am I supposed to draw during class? A sketchbook would've been even more obvious than the incredibly obvious I already was. I'm able to listen while drawing pretty reliably, and I did manage to take detailed notes while doodling, so at least I had that going for me.

2003

(Celes / OC / OC / Hermes-inspired wing lady)

I was focusing (at least some of the time) on backgrounds and trying to make my work detailed and polished. Coloring is still hopeless. Often when I colored, I would go super light, even when I was using dark or intense colors. It would give my pictures a sort of faint, half-assed hazy look. I remember an art teacher urging me to use more color, but I probably resisted because I knew that way lay total destruction. I'm sorry, well-meaning art teacher. You are unversed in the ways of my pencils. I have killed too many sketches to take those kinds of risks.

2004

(Rosa? / Meliara from Crown Duel / willow-dress lady / Geddoe and Queen from Suikoden 3)

See the Meliara picture? That's supposed to be a night scene in a forest. Front-lit by blazing firelight. I was too afraid to make the colors darker. This is dark enough, okay? Anyway, this year, along with being utterly obsessed with Suikoden 3 and Crown Duel, I was letting my art head in a more realistic direction...

2005

(OC / Queen / Queen / part of Zetta and Salome from Makai Kingdom; I remember deliberately copying those swoopy Ss from one of my friends’ handwriting. Wishes ended up being the first longform fanfic I posted online.)

...that really flourished this year. It's not actually realism, but I made a point to give my characters, especially the women, more realistic bodies. Faces are very round in this period, often with soft features. Noses are prominent. I'm also, finally, using more vibrant colors. I probably got my first Prismacolor pencils around this time. I also got some really cheap markers, but had no idea how to use them so mostly stuck to pencils.

2006

(All OCs)

I look back on this as a good year. I was learning better coloring techniques. (Bold colors! Press that pencil down! Okay, I still had much to learn.) I got an Elfwood gallery while the site was doing its slow mosey into oblivion. But that was an important step, not just looking at other people's art online, but putting my own up as well. There were downsides though. I began to feel more insecure – or maybe more realistic? – about my art, on this site with so many highly talented artists. Still, 2006 is a good year. It was a lot of fun, and I learned a lot.

2007

(vampire and hunter / Fleur from Harry Potter / OC / Avril from Wild Arms 5)

The year of Fleur Delacour. This is when I was writing Kindred. I think it was because I was trying to depict Fleur as distinctly non-human that my art shifted away from that more realistic style. Fleur, and my other figures, became very tall and slender. The anime DNA is still there though. For a long time, I felt the lying-down picture of Fleur was my best work.

2008

(Revya and Gig from Soul Nomad / my attempts at being “abstract” / OC / OC)

This was the year of Soul Nomad and, towards the end, Tales of the Abyss. Unsurprisingly, the anime influences start moving back to the fore. The eyes are becoming larger again, the features a bit more angular and stylized, mouths are shrinking. I'm still desperately trying to figure out markers and wondering why it's so darn hard (I don't try to educate myself, I just flail), but I was proud of that blue OC picture. It made me feel like I was getting somewhere. 2008 is when I started my deviantART gallery, right when everyone else was moving on to Tumblr.

2009

(teacup lady / Persona 4 noir-style comic / Revya / OC)

Then Persona 4 hit. Shigenori Soejima was a huge influence in this period, especially in eyes and faces. Pupils, chins, and jawlines shrink, eyelashes are sparse and stylized, noses are simplified. 2008 and 2009 are about as pure anime as I've ever gotten. Meanwhile, I'm really exited about my dA gallery and trying lots of different combinations of media. I'm super active on dA and FFN at this point, writing Elysion and then a slew of shorter Persona fics.

2010

(Minako from Persona 3: Portable / concept-art-version Minako / lady with dragon ferret thing / other lady with dragon ferret thing)

I'm still drawing with a lot of Soejima influences. Additionally, bodies are becoming even longer, taller, thinner, and bendier. Some of them look absurd to me now. On the other hand, a lot of pictures from this period have a nice elegance to them. I was still using colored pencils a fair bit, but more clumsy markers are showing up. Persona 3: Portable came out, and this is when I was writing Death and Ker.

2011

(mask lady / hat lady / Archaya, Duphaston, and Iryth from Eternal Poison / symbolic autumn lady and her winter baby)

Midway through this year, I hit a breakthrough when I got my first set of Copics – and skin tones, no less. Even though I was still flailing, I was so thrilled with my results. That Eternal Poison picture left me enormously proud, as did the mother and child one. My style hasn't changed all that much, but it's starting to feel less extreme. The focus on big eyes and tiny little mouths remains.

2012

(Elza from Suikoden 2 / Daryl and Setzer from Final Fantasy 6 / Killey and Lorelai from Suikoden 2 / Lyssa, Greek goddess of madness)

This is the year of Elza. Lots of delicate sketches of this lovely scarred lady, and lots of colored pictures too. I've definitely shifted away from pencils towards markers. The Daryl and Setzer one was an attempt to use both, and I was very happy with it. These pictures show their age, but there's still a lot here I like. Mouths are larger too. However, my online activity was starting to lag.

2013

(Rydia from Final Fantasy 4 / Nia from Infinite Space / the prophet and Schala / Argos and Io from Greek mythology)

The mid-2010s weren't entirely great for me, marked with a lot of frustration and discontent. And that definitely carried over to my art, making me feel very disappointed with myself. There was lots of marker work this year. Probably the standout picture is Argos and Io. This is also when I played through all three routes of Fate/Extra, and my art was suddenly full of Hakuno and Emiya.

2014

(Minako / butterfly lady / Marta and Tenebrae from Tales of Symphonia 2 / Elza)

Looking at it now, this was a good year. Lots of nice marker art. The butterfly one was a big step up for me in terms of coloring. The Marta and Tenebrae has a really cool stylized look to it. But I was becoming less enthusiastic about sharing my art with others. I started to post less and less.

2015

(evil Hakuno and Emiya from the Fate series / Mitsuru from Persona 3 / half moon cookie lady / Hakuno)

I barely posted anything this year, though I was still drawing a ton. As far as making strides, this is one of my better years. Coloring will never be my strong suit, but it's a lot more fun, and it looks a lot better. It's almost entirely marker-work at this point. Despite my, er, angst, a lot of people are smiling this year.

2016

(OC / doodle lady / Luna from Roman mythology / hair bow lady)

At this point, it's feeling too recent for me to really see what's changed. I did a fair bit of eraserless work. One problem I still have – and, yes, it involves coloring my pictures – is losing some of the image's personality after I've inked it and erased the initial pencil work. The picture's still there, but not as nuanced as it originally was. The results often feel stiff to me. Doing the first linework in ink, or not inking at all, allows me to keep that sensitive, spontaneous quality. Luna and the bow and doodle ladies were done without erasers. Another thing I did a lot this year was fill backgrounds with busy shapes and colors, which is a trend I’m still following today.

2017

(flapper and dog / Alcyone and Ceyx from Greek mythology / flower hair lady / Kida from Atlantis)

Not a good year. Not that the art is bad, there just isn't a lot of it, and what there is often isn't very finished. I was still mostly dark online, wondering if I should take down my dA gallery. Drawing and knowing I wasn't going to post something took off some of the pressure of my own expectations, but I was still unhappy.

2018

(Altera from the Fate series / Elizabeth Bathory from the Fate series / OC / Aranea from Final Fantasy 15)

This was a really important year for me. I wrote a novel I'm really proud of, and it's done a lot to give me confidence and a sense of creative direction. I also decided that after New Years, I was going to start a Tumblr gallery...just as everyone who was still on the site was jumping off of it. Much of my 2018 work is still sketchy and unfinished, but I also think it's loosening up some. It feels less stiff than the stuff from the middle of the decade.

2019

(Aloy from Horizon Zero Dawn / medievaly lady / Red from Transistor / Red)

The year of Supergiant Games, which led me to focus more on bright saturated colors. It's really hard for me to analyze these objectively. Coloring is better? I worked more on details? I used my metallic gel pens a ton and did shape-cluttered backgrounds? These aren't new things, but I think they paid off okay. I'm more at peace with my level of ability, I've finished more complicated works, and I crawled out of my den and started posting regularly online again. So that's all good. Curious to see what the art looks like in twenty more years.

[emathevampire]

1, 7, 20, 36, 45, 55, and 82 for Orinn?

thanks for the ask! I love Orinn so much, poor kid doesn’t know about his tragic backstory yet and hasn’t hit his personal quest, and he’s already going through some rough stuff. But at least as he is now, these are all accurate answers.

001. When is their birthday?     Oh gosh, I hadn’t really thought about it. In the springtime, for sure! Probably mid-April, if I had to use a real world approximation, since that’s when I created him (roughly speaking) IRL. He’s about 42 years old though, which is still young for a half elf.

007. Is your character an optimist or a pessimist?     Orinn is an optimist to a fault. You know that post that goes around? With the japanese fisherman harvesting clams, saying never give up? That’s Orinn. There’s a LOT of hope for the future crammed into his skinny little frame. He always tries to keep his head up, despite the hardships he’s been through... but the harder things get for him and the party, the harder it is for him to keep being the upbeat fun guy. 

020. What are their hobbies?     He’s a professional cartographer and explorer, planeswalker, and for a small fee he’ll be your guide to whatever adventures you might need these skills on. But he’s also an artist, he sketches the sights he sees and people he meets. The closest real-world approximation to the style of martial art he practices is probably Tai Chi. Partly for the combat training, but also as a form of meditation to relieve stress and help him keep his calm and friendly disposition... he spends much of his free time meditating, drawing, or caring for his celestial hawk companion, Tyrael.

036. How honorable is your character?     Although he is chaotic aligned, he’s quite trustworthy and loyal, and does consider himself to be an honourable man.

045. Does your character have any chronic medical conditions?     He didn’t used to, but his time in the Abyss left him with some unfortunate lingering conditions. Though the party fixed the physical damages (he ended up blind for a while, along with being unable to use his hands because of the severe damage done by burns similar to those that result from extreme radiation exposure) with regeneration potions, he still suffers from night terrors, and needs more rest than is normal for someone of elven blood. He’s also not likely to ever fully recover from his time infected with Festering Anger (caused by proximity to the Lord of Hate), and will always be at risk of relapse if his immune system or his emotional stability become compromised.

055. Is your character an introvert or an extrovert?     Orinn is more of an ambivert. He WANTS to be an extrovert, but is quite comfortable with just the company of his animal companion. He’s always struggled with making friends (he’s quite socially awkward), but if he ever managed to make any, he’d be very much the extrovert friend who’s very spontaneous, dragging the introverts out of their shells to go hang out together. And then retreating to take a nap in a tree under the stars with his hawk afterwards. Gosh I really hope the party actually like... addresses this... I want him to have real friends... at this point in the campaign, he’s not really sure why they’re keeping him around, and feels very useless and out of place. He’s not sure if they’re doing it out of pity or if they actually like him. We’re making progress though. His character development is coming.082. What are your character’s sleeping preferences?     Used to be that he would look forward to getting cozy in his cloak curled up snuggling his hawk for about four hours every night, but things have changed. Now he has difficulty getting to sleep at all, and when he does, it’s never a good time. Even after six hours, he doesn’t feel rested. Tyrael doesn’t snuggle with him all night anymore, but stands vigilant to wake him if he has a nightmare. He sleeps with his armour on now even when he’s rented a room, just to alleviate his anxiety, it’s heavy and close and helps him feel safe. At least, as safe as he can feel when out in the wilderness on a quest to save the world.

[the-colony-roleplay]

Koda Payne | Twenty Seven ;  Survivor

House: Brink Security Class: 2 Status: Infected - Telepathy Allignment: New Age Rebels Identifies as Non-Binary, Pronouns: He/Him

History

Koda Payne was born on the edge of a carnival.

His mother had dreams of being an artist. Naive, passionate and turbulent at the age of sixteen, Jezebel Payne left her mother’s care, who’d been more concerned with supporting her alcoholism than her daughter, and whose string of abusive boyfriends were no better. 

She’d stowed away on trains until she’d reached Essex, where she eventually got a job at a local supermarket. It was a few months of living on scraps and hoping from hostel to hostel, until she was able to find a shoebox flat to rent. It was tiny, the kitchen in poor shape and open to the only other room besides the toilet—her bedroom—but it was a place she could call her own and one she could come back to for more than a week at a time. She was making it on her own and she was spending her time painting and sketching and everything was going to be okay. She knew it would. It had to be. 

And everything was—for a while. She even met a young man, Peter, who charmed her right out from behind her till at the little market and swept her onto a first date that soon became a second, and a third. He was a musician, and he brought spontaneity and excitement into her modest, simple life. She fell in love quickly, and all too deeply. 

So deeply, in fact, that when he took his aggression out on her, after a few too many drinks and a late night with the bandmates, she hardly saw the resemblance between her situation and her mother’s. She didn’t want to. But a few bruises eventually became holes in the walls that promised she’d never again see her security deposit, and before she could find the courage to leave him, she found out about Koda. 

Little baby Koda—a boy she would never get the chance to name. She was never going to tell Peter about the baby, but he found out by accident and tried to convince her that he would be a good father, that he would make up for his mistakes. She wasn’t stupid enough to believe him, but she was afraid of him and what he’d do if she refused. She was worried he’d cause her to miscarry, were she ever to make him too angry, and her child’s life was something she wasn’t willing to risk. She’d also lost her job when she was late too many times, usually after trying to clean up her cuts after Peter had left, and so now it was him paying for the apartment. She had nowhere to go and no money to get there. 

She was eight months pregnant when she and Peter got in a fight at a night carnival in town, and she’d run away from him, slipped out of sight between the crowds and stifled her tears as he circled the place looking for her. That’s when she went into labour. 

She wound up giving birth at the back of a tarot-reading tent, with the help of a warm-hearted fortune teller called Suvi, having refused to let the woman call for help. But after swaddling the tiny, premature babe in a blanket, and leaving Jezebel to rest and recover, Suvi had slipped from the tent to fetch some water and a warm cloth and when she returned she found the new mother gone. In her wake was only a tiny baby boy wrapped in silky patterns of the universe, and a note that read, Thank you. Please love him like I would have. Like I do. 

Koda Payne was born on the edge of a carnival, and there is where he stayed. 

Koda Today

It was Suvi who named him Koda, and Suvi who raised him. And though it was never a promise she’d even been given the chance to make, it was one she’d vowed to keep anyway. 

And she did love him. Oh, did she love him. A woman of a somewhat transient life following the carnival, reading cards and going where the stars and planets took her, she believed Koda to be brought to her for a reason and she raised him to believe the same. 

She raised him to have open eyes and a generous heart. She taught him the ways of the planets and the universe’s sophisticated and elegant forces of fate. She taught him to read tarot and palms and that being in tune with people and their energies would be the greatest tool he’d ever have.  When he was eighteen she let him study Wicca.  

By the time he was twenty one, he had left the Carnival to open a shop—one he convinced Suvi to retire to now that she was getting older. Something stable would be much more well suited to her, and he was happy to manage the paperwork and the business sides of things for her. 

When the world ended, Suvi hadn’t survived the collapse of the shop. It devastated him, her having been the only mother he’d ever known, but she’d given him a strength in his ability to look forward with hope, and so he had her to thank for the ability to maintain stable-minded through the apocalypse. 

He’d been living with a small clan in a stone manor in Ipswich for nearly four years by the time the NWRF started the purging of the wastelands. A strong believer in equality, and the rights of the Infected, but uninterested in the spilling of unnecessary blood, he aligned himself with the NAR just a few months before the Crusaders found and absorbed his clan. He was one of the few allocated to Colony 22.

Koda is patient, cerebral and sweet. Though he is spiritual in the sense of his belief the power of fate and the universe, he is by no means a preacher. He can be solitary, at times, an independent creature with a deeply rooted connection to nature, but he is otherwise benevolent with people. Despite being described by many as somewhat mysterious, Koda is warm, playful and loving. His dark sides stir to the surface in the presence of those who judge and hate, and though he still practices Wicca and participates in its vein in the Black Market, he does not actively seek vengeance, only justice. 

He will not support the Radicals, uncomfortable with their extremist ways, but he does believe something should be done about the path the NWRF are carving out for the future of humanity, and keeps his unlawful ties in the undercurrent of rebellion outside Colony walls for this reason. 

Koda identifies as non-binary. He prefers male pronouns, and is fine with being referred to as male by those who don’t know him well, but he believes that people, much like the universe, are far too fluid to be contained, and does not assert himself as being only one gender. 

CLOSED

[videoranch]

The View from the Side of the Stage

Words and photos by Melodie Akers

Embarking on a 12-date tour seemed like the last thing Nez should have done a month ago. Before the New York show on September 20, I told him how proud I was of him. I had feared he would either decide to go home after three dates or complete the tour without the energy to play or sing his best. The Mike & Micky Show had been far from fun; apart from the shows -- which were incredible -- it had been full of sleepless nights on a shaky tour bus and empty-stomached afternoons in emergency rooms, clutching my copy of Science & Health, while Nez joked with the nurses. I dreaded a repeat of that awful month.

The September FNBR tour had all the opportunities to be grueling. It kicked off with three dates in a row, and there was another block of three in the middle. Days off were singular and rare. Despite having little time for rest, Nez organized his team and resources so that he made it through the journey feeling better by the end than at the beginning.

Nez has been expressing a desire for a jet since before the January tour. In late August, he decided it would be a perfect “ambulance” to shuttle him through the tour. At first it didn’t work how he intended. The driver who was taking us to the airport -- or FBO as I learned to call it -- would be late, or Jonathan and Susan wouldn’t be ready to leave so Nez and I were sitting in the car alone. Or the plane would not be ready, or worse -- broken. The food provided by the jet company turned out to not be up to Nez’s standard. By the time we left Texas, Dan, our tour manager, and I figured out how to use the jet to its full benefit. I started having the jet bring in outside catering from Jewish delis or we’d have a runner grab Popeye’s during the show. Dan started ordering the car earlier, so it was ready and waiting for luggage while Nez fulfilled his Meet & Greet duties. I worked out an organization system of Nez’s luggage that allowed me to pack up quickly and easily after the shows -- something I had finally worked out after struggling all through the Mike & Micky Show. Nez instructed me to call the pilots once we were rolling, providing them our ETA so our plane would be ready and waiting just like the car had been. Once we got it down to this science, a quick flight -- usually less than an hour -- and we’d be touched down with full bellies and headed to the hotel, tucked in bed by 2am.

Jet rides were a welcome time to decompress after the hard work of shows. We’d laugh while discussing the show’s high points and how it was developing. Nez always polled us on what was his funniest joke of the night. As fans have pointed out, no show was the same; Nez did this intentionally. He didn’t wear his hat on stage in Virginia because he had started to feel like it was a cliche! His between-song-banter appeared in the moment each night, and he adjusted the set list as the tour progressed. After the first shows, he cut four songs, then added them back in and even introduced Marie’s Theme as he visibly gained strength and confidence with each performance. His ability to continuously spontaneously create not only reflected his live career as a whole, but showed his developing connection with the Redux band’s interpretation of his work. We listened to a lot of his early ‘70s albums in Sparky just before leaving for rehearsals -- and our listening sessions brought forward some of the ideas he thought were unexpressed in January. Last month, rather than simply “play the album”, he introduced Redux to new ideas and then expressed them onstage. Many of those ideas appeared first within the safety and comfort of the jet.

This was my third tour working as Nez’s handler. “Handler” essentially means I am responsible for getting Nez where he needs to be when he needs to be there with all of his luggage, prepare his costume, make sure he has clean underwear, gets enough rest, and eats at meal times. Nez has told me repeatedly that it is not my job to make sure he is happy, but I still try my best to achieve that, too. In addition to handler, during the tour I kept my positions as his assistant, running his social media, and sending these newsletters. I tried to share shows from the side of the stage through Facebook Live, but many comments from fans complained about the sound. The sound of a show changes depending on where you are stood. From the side of the stage, all you’re hearing is the musician’s monitors and a little bleed of the “front of house mix” -- what the crowd hears. Therefore, stage left was heavily Christian and stage right was heavily Alex and Pete; neither are a great place to hear Nez’s vocal. Nez became frustrated with me because I didn’t have much to say after shows. Even though I stood there waiting to be needed while broadcasting live, I couldn’t hear the real show. For several shows, I stubbornly refused to move from my spot out of fear of not being there when he needed me.

During the Mike & Micky Show, I stood by in case Nez needed more water, a towel, someone to hold his guitar, someone to unlock his iPad… whatever. Every show was a struggle the second he stepped off stage -- and I was half of the team there to hold him up. Dan and I supported him until he’d walk back on stage and perform beautifully. His abilities in June were incredible and confusing to me. However, a wise man once wrote: The devil has no access to the singing man.

The end of the first show in Houston was a massive achievement: It proved he could do the show, which was the principal concern on my mind. As his healing became more apparent, I felt more confident that it was not irresponsible to abandon my side of stage post. I started to complete my packing in the dressing room during the show while enjoying the front of house mix through the venue’s playback pumped into the room, and once I even had the guts to leave the venue to grab Popeye’s for the jet. By New York, I completed my packing backstage then sat in the audience most of the show and was able to give Nez a full review afterwards without neglecting any of my handling responsibilities.

The key elements of a hotel while handling a principal on tour are: blackout shades so he can sleep late, edible room service meals, and close proximity to Starbucks. Our hotel in Dallas had a Starbucks inside but it was closed -- the disappointment took away from Nez’s room having an actual breakfast nook. Nashville’s blackout shades were the best of the tour, even though the room was otherwise unremarkable, making it a standout; Susan called it “womblike”. Nez’s favorite hotel of the tour was the Peninsula in Chicago. When we walked into his room, he announced he was moving. Everything was high-tech: the TV remote was an iPad and even the light switches were touchscreen. But the room’s tech did not take away from its design’s classic beauty achieved through golden accents, dark wood, and deep navy bedding -- like sleeping in the night sky. And they somehow avoided the hotel restaurant curse by having wonderful meals.

The most bizarre hotel was in Detroit. Nez and I are 95% sure it was haunted. Nez’s room had a ballroom with a grand piano. Okay, not exactly -- but it had a mostly empty room bigger than my apartment with a grand piano in the corner. I asked him if he could play piano. “No, why do you ask?” “I’ve seen pictures of you sitting at pianos.” “Oh yeah, I can sit at pianos.” The entire suite (ballroom, dining room, kitchen, bedroom, vanity room, walk-in closet, and bathroom) was 60% empty -- its rooms’ sizes dwarfing their furniture. The bathroom and its vanity room were green marble blocks. Nez said the place was a perfect analogy for the automotive industry of a century ago -- uselessly ginormous. It was also filled with the craziest art -- including a piece in the lobby that made me ask Nez, “Why do they have a painting of Kate Bush?” The green marble vanity and bathroom still backdrop my nightmares.

Recently a friend asked me what touring is like because she is writing a novel about a touring band in the ‘60s. I responded with Nez’s first lesson: laundry and food. Those are the hardest things. I have no concept of how they pulled it off in the ‘60s, though, because they didn’t have Google Maps or Uber. Google Maps is my answer to everything on the road: finding laundromats who do fluff-and-fold, finding the nearest Starbucks, finding restaurants, finding a manicurist two hours before the show, etc.. The main function I wish Google Maps had was a sketch-meter. The number of times I’ve chosen a laundromat that’s 10 minutes away because of its high Google rating to find out that it’s in a “bad” part of town upon arrival... I was grateful to always have an Uber driver there with me, at least.

Uber is the best and worst part of touring in 2018. Depending on the town, it takes either 2 minutes or 20 for your driver to arrive -- and that is usually a good indicator of the arriving driver’s helpfulness. As an introvert, by the end of the tour I dreaded running errands, because being trapped in a car with a stranger whom I felt I was inconveniencing in some insane way took a special toll on my mental energy. But in comparison to ordering black cars and limos, Uber makes transporting a rock star beyond simple -- until you consider seatbelts. Seatbelts in stranger’s cars are somehow always hidden. Nez is terrible about wearing his seatbelt anyway, so I’ve taken to pouncing on him the second he sits down in any vehicle to make sure he is buckled in. I’ve asked him how he survived being a race car driver when he struggles to put on his seatbelt; he has no answer.

I half-joke with Nez that he only tours the east coast to have lobster. After seven shows of only talking about lobster, he finally got his cherished crustacean at lunch in Boston before the Somerville show. That was also my first lobster; Nez says west coast lobsters aren’t real lobster. It was delicious; I fully understand his quest now. We also had the best fried chicken in Nashville, while Nez made up songs at the table like, “Why am I standing in the garage? I know I came in here for something important,” after I shared his habit of making up incredible songs on afternoon drives to Jonathan and Susan. But the best aspect of meals on the road was our company and official tour drink. Most dinners were spent with Jonathan, Susan, and Hennessy sidecars -- Nez’s favorite cocktail! It started during rehearsals at our hotel in Burbank, and continued through the last shows on the east coast. We had a slight hiccup in Nashville when we got into a battle with our waitress as to whether it was salt or sugar on the rim of our glasses, and thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere in a Chicago restaurant where our table was INSIDE a train car. These evenings were one of the first things Nez and I chased down upon returning home… but were disappointed to discover that Jonathan and Susan’s laughter could not be conjured by the sidecars alone.

Restaurants are usually the closest Nez and I got to sightseeing while on the road. Our tunnel of hotel-car-venue-car-plane-car-hotel didn’t offer much light. Most of my “days off” (HA!!) were spent running errands while Nez recuperated (i.e. slept and watched MSNBC in his hotel room). While returning to the hotel from the laundromat in Nashville, I was grateful my Uber driver took a wrong turn: I got to see 6th St from the backseat after Nez had broken his promise to take me the night before. He came through for me in Boston, though. Despite the rain, he felt well enough to happily venture out in an Uber so he could show me the Mother Church. Disappointingly the church was closed due to construction -- and the visit took an incredible turn away from my expectations into modern art. Nez led me into the Mapparium at the Mary Baker Eddy Library, a three-story stained glass globe created just before the Second World War. We stood and pointed out cities and countries to each other -- Rio, Australia, Carmel. Given the state of politics, it was comforting to stand surrounded by an illuminated world. As proven through this tour, art is healing.