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llamagoddessofficial · 3 years

Text

Thank you @eldritch-and-tired for commissioning this lil’ /Reader piece of @megalommi‘s Sans, Baggs. I will ALWAYS be a simp for this sexyman. Enjoy!!

Tw: injections, unwilling hypnosis/mind control

...

You giggled.

The light was so pretty. Swirling, undulating, cyan and magenta warping and shifting in and out of one another in an endless hypnotising rhythm. It made you think of a funfair... spirals everywhere, from the tops of the stalls to the decorations on the rides, to the signs leading you around to those huge lollipops that tasted tooth-meltingly sweet. Happy memories, carefree, far away and non-solid but still wonderful. What were you doing? You couldn’t remember anything. You liked blue and purple, they were everywhere, all around you, such pretty colours.

Pretty, pretty...

“... there we go. easy now.”

... You didn’t realise he was even there until he (somewhat cautiously?) spoke. Your senses were just colours. The voice was odd and a bit disembodied at first but slowly, slowly, you became aware of its source- a face hovering just over you. The awareness spread to your body, too... you were bent at an odd angle with your feet just barely lifted off the floor, your back flat on a rather uncomfortable table, gravity pulling your hair and cheeks. And he... he was just a few inches over you, pinning you by one of your wrists.

...

A tight and tense, cutting smile, clear signs of stress around his face and shoulders making it obvious that this was the smile of a man on the edge and not one of any particular joy. Deep sockets, so wide they looked borderline painful, glaring down at you with so much intensity...

... You could feel his body heat. And his breath against your face. Your heartbeat, your slightly itchy nose, how tight he was holding your wrist.

“... Mh... Huh?” You said, ever-so articulately, vision spinning in the same direction as the swirls emanating from his left socket. A similar way to how the world rocked when you were dizzy... except for you, it never righted itself. It just kept spinning and spinning and spinning. Everything was so bright, as you fell under a pleasant fuzzy sensation burrowed into your chest and mind, blanketing your thoughts as if you were just in the middle of a nice dream where nothing much mattered.

“shh...”

When he gently closed his gloved fingers around something you had gripped in your pinned hand, you put up no fuss, loosening your hold and allowing him to take it... when did you pick up a scalpel? What an odd thing to have. The back of your head hurt and your knuckles felt the telltale aches of having been tense a few moments ago, even though they were now just an unwound coil like the rest of you.

... Dr. Baggs let out a long slow, breath. You could feel it against your nose and neck, he was that close... his mouth open barely a crack, the magenta hue of his tongue glinting against his fangs.

“... alright.” He said, voice silky, gentle on your thrumming ears and head, sockets easing around the edges as he calmed down. The bluish shadows of sleep deprivation under them became more apparent as the tension in the room, face and posture waned. “that’s better.”

... Yeah. You thought, relaxed and calm. It is.

... He gave you the bare minimum of personal space, leaning back and helping you to sit, lifting you with the perfect combination of gentle but firm as if he knew you’d immediately feel so dizzy when you became upright. Your hands moved up and held onto his shoulders to steady yourself- the fabric of his lab coat was surprisingly soft, it was very nice to touch.

... He was so close. Supportive but strict hands on your elbows, your knees on either side of him, he smelled like... the artificial flavouring they added candy that just wasn’t quite natural. And a specific, scented brand of antiseptic; clean and sterile and prepared.

“... well.” He hummed, reaching out of sight for something with one hand. Your forehead would bump his collarbone if you leant forward any more. His voice was so soothing and calming, especially since you were only a few inches from his clavicle... you were getting pretty close to shutting your eyes at this point, but a prick in your arm kept you from completely nodding off- you barely noticed it, too busy studying the aesthetically pleasing purple trim to his coat and enjoying the funny fuzzy sensation in your chest and temples. Oh, he suddenly had a full syringe in his hand that he was putting a cap on... where did he get that?

“i knew from the start you’d be uncooperative, but... not that kind of uncooperative.”

He held something up to your face. You opened your mouth, (wait, why am I opening my mouth...) and he quickly placed it on your tongue. You swallowed, again, without knowing why... it was like your body was following a list of instructions that you couldn’t see or hear. Someone else had taken the wheel; tugging the right strings to make the right parts of you move when they were needed.

... You didn’t think about it much. No panic, no confusion, no considering the implications. The thoughts were disconnected... just ships in the night, sailing by your muffled brain. All you could really think about was how whatever he’d given you was very strange and bitter and ew, you cringed, an odd acrid taste lingering in the back of your throat.

... Another prick in your arm. That’s weird, he keeps pricking me. Oh well. This time, you looked just in time to see him removing a now-empty syringe; he wiped where he’d poked your forearm with something very cold, then placed a little circular red band-aid over it.

...

There were six other band-aids on that forearm. Two green, three navy, one black... and now the red one.

Hm... I feel like I should be alarmed by that...

Again, all you could think about was how nice you felt right now. Dizzy, warm, safe. Like you’d had a little too much to drink, but now you were laying out in the sun with your friends... I miss the sun...

“most of my ‘patients’ are at least... consistent.” Baggs hummed, continuining to hold you carefully by the elbows, predicting your post-jab swaying. He didn’t seem to realise he was talking aloud, just a scientist observing his experiment, and you weren’t really paying enough attention to what he was actually saying- too many words to process, boooring. “uncooperative awake, uncooperative under. you’re always displaying aggression toward me... and yet as soon as you have no control, there’s an obediency so immediate it’s borderline subconscious. rather fascinating.”

Instead, you...

“... Sexy voice.”

...

“... what?”

Apparently, that was enough to finally break him out of his thoughts. You glanced up at Baggs’ face, still only a few inches away, you kept forgetting where things were around you... the cushion around your soul never wavered but for a moment there was a little blip in the swirls. A slight interruption.

“Mmmhm.”

...

... His expression sort of... well, ‘melted’ was the wrong word. It was more akin to the sun peeking out from between two clouds. The detached, observational, scientific air to him thinned and began to evaporate... revealing something a little more warm.

The razor and unfriendly edges of his smile were rounding into something organic. Perhaps even, daresay, resembling forward.

“my.” He purred. “how forward of you.”

“S’very nice. Very smooth...” Your tongue felt... eh. And your arm, where he’d poked you, was starting to itch. “And you have a nice face too... handsome man. I think so.”

...

His smile started growing even more, and he leaned back an inch or two as if to look at all of you and make sure you were really the same person he’d brought into this examination room less than an hour ago. “... oh really?”

“Yeah...” ... Your hands had been just holding onto his coat... but, spurred on by your sudden drunken confidence, you properly looped them around his neck.

... He blinked, but he only let himself appear taken aback for a moment or two. Despite how ominously his magenta eyelights glowed in his dark, shadowed sockets... you could tell he was enjoying himself, and this sudden turn of events. “i’m flattered.”

You laid your head on his chest. It was getting kinda hard to stay upright.

... Your nose scrunched.

“Funky smell, though.”

That was enough to get an actual laugh out of him- albeit shortlived, his skull cocking like a curious mirthful bird. “are you... genuinely telling me that i smell, darling?”

“Yeah. Because it’s true. You’re gremlin.”

“i’m... gremlin?”

“Mhm.”

“stars. i wish i could tell pap about this.”

Your body shifted, enough to make you lightly squeak- things were spinning so much that it took you a minute to realise Baggs had picked you up, an arm hooked under your legs and another around your back.

“you’re all done for the day, pet.” His eyelights had become a thrumming, almost amethyst colour as he looked at you, a far gentler shade of purple than his previous headache-inducing magenta. You weren’t sure what’d caused that but you weren’t complaining. You weren’t sure what’d caused him to carry you either, considering he usually just brought someone to collect his ‘patients’ for him... but, again, not complaining. “it’s time to get back to your room.”

“I feel funny.” You mumbled.

“that’s normal.”

He started walking. The halls all looked the same, as he moved through them, blending into one another... white and sterile, a few doors dotted inbetween if you were lucky but mostly just the exact same tiles and patterns and lack of anything that would clue you into the fact that people had actually (at some point) existed in this area.

“Hm... is this where you work...?”

A little chuckle. He was sounding further and further away. “yes. this is my job, dear.”

“It’s so g... ug-ly.”

“oh? you think so?” Baggs’ tone had become... light? Perhaps a little teasing.

“Jus... put up some nice posters, or something.” Your head was so heavy. Since when was it this heavy? You had to rest it against his chest, feeling that nice fabric against your cheek, hearing an equally nice humming sound from inside his ribcage. “Paint the walls. It’s so... white. Clini... ...clinicic... Calic...”

“clinical?”

“... Yeah.Tthat.”

A gloved phalange touched your arm. It was probably an attempt at a comforting gesture- stroking the skin. “good to know. i’ll make sure to pass that eloquent advice along to the decorating team.”

“Good.”

He brought you to a cell-like room. It was... vaguely familiar? A bed with one pillow, thin white sheets... some strange posters and a window with bars over it. You felt like you’d spent a long time in there, but it was impossible to think straight enough to actually muster up any memories.

Baggs laid you down on the bed, slowly, handling you like you’d fall apart at any moment. You made a little noise- it wasn’t a very soft bed... but it was good enough. And your body felt so strange and tired that any soft surface honestly was nice enough to lay down on forever.

“comfy?” He asked. Since when did he inquire if you were comfy?

“M... no. S’whatever.”

...

You peeked at him, crouched by your bed... and you reached out, pressing your inexplicably heavy finger against the top of his nasal cavity in a booping motion. You mumbled a little victorious “Silly skeleton.”

...

He took your hand in his gloved one, gently, before it could go limp and flop down. You couldn’t really make out his expression at this point.

“don’t tell the other subjects...” He murmured... he sounded amused, at least. “but i think you’ve become my favourite.”

“Course.” You shut your eyes. “I’m... m’amazing.”

“... yes. course.”

A feeling, like a kiss on your hand, before he placed it by your side.

“... go to sleep.”

...

And just like that, your body obeyed him before your head could even process what he’d said, and you were asleep.

#commissions #megalosomnia #baggs sans #not my sans #but damn #i wish i was his [pensive emoji]#i fuckin LOVE writing hypnosis if you couldnt tell hfsdkjf

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

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the one i was meant to find

request: from nonnie! “soulmate au with George??? maybe tattoos or something with the red thread of fate?”

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k

warning(s): angst, mentions of impending war, torture, sadness, anxiety

desc: your seventh year takes a wild turn when umbridge announces the arranged establishing of relationships to keep things in order. keep things in order? sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? people shouldn’t be paired off, you should find one another through fate! so when umbitchbridge ultimately decides to pair students off by blood status, it seems as though fate (or the ministry) is pulling you and your boyfriend miles and miles apart.

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight | message me to be added!

Umbridge’s slimy voice rang violently throughout the Great Hall. Suddenly everything sounded very muffled in your ears, and you swallowed thickly in the hopes of unpopping them. Your breathing became heavy, just as it had that winter day at the Weasley home.

You’d been sitting outside the Burrow in the snow near the garden shed with the lot of them, before Fred, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione had all excused themselves, leaving you and George alone. You’d sworn that you’d seen Fred wink at you before vanishing inside the bustling home. You’d bit down on your lip, knowing exactly what he’d been trying to do. Damnit, Fred.

You’d stolen a glance at George, who’d looked as calm as could be. That hadn’t helped your nerves at all. Neither had the slight mistletoe that had materialized above you both, the unmistakable sound of Frederick Weasley cackling emanating from the second floor of the house.

“You know,” George began, his voice steady as a rock as he inched closer toward you. He lifted his eyes to glance above you both. “Legend has it that if you don’t song whoever you’re with whenever mistletoe appears, you’re both cursed for life.”

You’d actually snorted and immediately caved in on yourself. How embarrassing was that? Your cheeks flooded red, both from the embarrassment and from the way his laughter had warmed your entire body. You’d hadn’t even known what to say. “You’re full of it, Weasley,”

He’d placed a hand dramatically across his chest. The tips of his ears and nose were pink from the cold, and you’d sworn you were going to spontaneously combust at the sheer sight of it. “Swear to Merlin, Y/N, I read about it.”

“You? Read about it? Sure. In what -- Ten Ways To Charm Your Crush?” you’d internally scolded yourself for saying something so bloody stupid, but George had clearly thought it was cute because his grin deepened alongside the dramatic drumbeat of your heart. You’d decided to dive in head first. “I reckon you just want to kiss me.”

His features had twisted into a childish smirk and the wind ruffled his bit of bright red hair sticking out from his hat. A few snowflakes had fallen onto his eyelashes and melted when he’d blinked. “Absolutely, I do.”

He’d caught your lips with his in a moment of clarity. It was new and invigorating and familiar all at once. You may had been informed of your magical abilities at the age of eleven, much to the surprise of your Muggle parents, but in all the years you’d been attending Hogwarts, you’d never felt magic quite like this. The feeling of his eyelashes brushing against your cheekbones and his tongue gliding gently over your bottom lip had sent you gasping for air --

A hand on the small of your back pulled you from your memory. You turned to your side and looked at George for some reassurance, except all he was able to give you were worried eyes and a clenched jaw. You noticed the way his eyes glistened, but not the way they had underneath the snow and the stars and the mistletoe. They were glistening with tears.

“You can’t pair people off like this!” Yells were ringing throughout the Great Hall, along with complaints and quite a few expletives. You squeezed George’s hand. All you wanted him to do was tell you everything would be okay. “George, she can’t --”

Umbridge kept on talking, annoyingly enough, and you were surprised at how loudly her words echoed in your ears. “The Ministry has concluded, boys and girls, that students will be paired off by blood status. Pure-bloods are to marry pure-bloods, half-bloods with half-bloods, Muggle-borns with Muggle-borns. No intermingling will be tolerated. There will be daily checks to make sure you are abiding by the rules. Be warned, children, there will be disciplinary actions for those refusing to obey. No exceptions.”

You felt as though your throat was closing up. George’s face was blurry through your vision, but you could still see the worried look glazing over his eyes. How the hell did she expect to pull this off -- daily checks? This woman was absolutely mad. Somehow though, you knew she’d stop at nothing to make sure her rules were being followed. The thought terrified you to your core. To George, you said shakily, “But -- I love you.”

You’d known it since the day you met him, and even before that. You knew that he was the one you’d been waiting for. The overwhelming feeling of warmth you’d felt when he’d introduced himself with a lopsided grin all those long years ago in the middle of a Herbology lesson was like nothing you’d felt before. You had first met his gaze across the classroom, and he’d held it a little longer than he normally would have. You’d been in love ever since. And so had he.

It isn’t fair, you wanted to yell out. What authority did Umbridge have to decide who you’re meant to be with? Weren’t soulmates to be determined by fate, and not by the corrupt Wizarding government? You had a thought of hexing her right now, but her pompous laugh made you feel as though you turned to stone. By the look on McGonagall’s face from the other end of the hall, you were quite certain she felt like hexing Umbridge, too.

Who the bloody hell was she to think that she had a say, any say, over who you were allowed to marry?

George’s lip wobbled a bit as he breathed in deeply. “I love you, too.” His voice was hoarse and different and worrisome. “It’ll all be okay, darling, I promise.”

Somehow you knew that George didn’t fully believe his own words.

What were you supposed to do, coming from a Muggle family, when the whole lot of Weasleys were pure-bloods? What were you supposed to say to this vile woman to make her reconsider her choices? When your eyes met hers in a fit of fury, you squeezed George’s hand tighter, all while Umbridge threaded her brows together and stood up a little straighter.

What were you supposed to do if your soulmate wasn’t allowed to be your soulmate at all?

-- -

As you stealthily flicked your wrist, a dull light emanated from your wand, causing Professor Snape’s hair to stand up on command and turn a rather ugly shade of yellow.

You squealed; how you’d managed to pull it off was beyond you. Behind you, your boyfriend squeezed your shoulders and grabbed your hand before pulling you out of the Great Hall and around the bend. He was finding it very difficult to suppress his laughter, as evident by the red colour rising in his cheeks and the slight tears in his eyes. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

You flipped your hair and grinned at him. “I know,” you said cheekily, earning yourself a playful jab to the ribs. You locked your arms around his neck. “I learned from the best.”

You adored the dimple that appeared on his cheek each and every time he smiled. You pushed his long hair out of his eyes. “The best, eh?”

“The best of the best,”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and lifted you into the air, your feet dangling just above the corridor floor. He spun you a bit until you claimed you were getting dizzy. “My girl is going to out prank me one day.. how’d I get so lucky? I reckon I’m the luckiest bloke there is.”

You giggled and played absentmindedly with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” George breathed, placing you back down and bringing a hand to the back of your neck. The cheekiness in his features almost immediately twisted into that of compassion, of admiration, of --

“I love you.”

If you hadn’t been so absolutely floored (even though you’d kind of been expecting it), you would’ve noticed how very quickly those three words had brought tears to your eyes. Except, you were too excited to notice such things. Nothing at all could’ve prepared you for those three words. You reckoned your smile was stretching from ear to ear now.

The three words you’d been waiting to hear for so long were playing in your head on repeat. You couldn’t wait another second before saying them very quickly back through a very excited squeal. “Iloveyoutoo!” He laughed and kissed you softly, his mouth moving very carefully against yours. You whispered against his lips in a calmer, more serious tone, “I love you, too.”

-- -

Your seventh and final year at Hogwarts was not going according to plan. Not only had Umbridge mechanically established relationships via blood status, but she also split all of the students up by blood status as well. So there were no longer Hogwarts houses. Each student were given new, generic Hogwarts robes and new common rooms. You shifted uncomfortably in a particularly painful armchair in what used to be the Slytherin common room. How convenient, you thought, that Umbridge had deemed the dungeons an appropriate spot for the new “Muggle-born Residencies”.

And George.

He was struggling to get used to the strange entrance of the previous Ravenclaw common room, now deemed the “Pure-blood Dormitories”. Umbridge had completely banned the selling of any and all Weasley products, even confiscating their trunks and blasting their items to smithereens. Everything George and Fred worked on for so long was just...gone, and you couldn’t even be there to comfort them.

The most interaction you were able to have with George were stolen glances across the Great Hall and in lessons. McGonagall didn’t have much say over the pairing off, but she did have a say in how lessons ran. She shut down Umbridge’s ludicrous “lesson by blood status” idea almost immediately.

George had sworn to you that it would be easy to sneak around, that he could jinx Umbridge or remove her memory or outsmart her any day. But bloody hell, it was proving to be difficult. This woman had certainly done her research. The Ministry had you all on a strict lockdown control.

Fleeting moments with George came less often than both of you would have liked. One recurring time Umbridge couldn’t stop you (because she wouldn’t dare step out onto the Quidditch pitch) were matches. The schedule had already been established, McGonagall had fought. It was the only time the “four houses” were able to reconvene during the school year. You waited patiently, nervously, restlessly outside of the Gryffindor changing rooms and yanked George rather violently behind the tent before pulling him onto a bone crushing embrace.

An exasperated breath left your lips. “I don’t know how much more of this I can handle.” you told him. It had only been a month -- surely it had been longer? Like five bloody years maybe?

“Me neither, love.” The feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist was exhilarating in a way that nothing else was. When he pulled away to look at you, he kept his hands gripped tightly on your hips, as if he were afraid you were going to slip through his fingers. Which, you thought, was pretty accurate. These fleeting moments were exactly that. Fleeting.

You expected to see the usual cheekiness glistening in his eyes, but he looked -- empty. Like the life had been sucked right out of him. Like he didn’t care about anything anymore. Like he hadn’t caught sleep in days.

You tugged hesitantly on his robes. “I -- I got paired off last week.”

You didn’t say this to hurt him; you said this to be truthful. You saw his jaw clench as he prepared himself for answers. “Who is it? I know him?”

You waved George off. “He’s just some guy.”

And then, amazingly, incredibly, George actually snorted. For a brief moment, you saw traces of happiness nearly lift him off of his feet. “Some guy?”

“Well I don’t bloody know!” you laughed too. It felt like discovering a completely new emotion, since despair seemed to be the only thing you were feeling these days. “We -- haven’t really spoken much. Just the bare minimum. He’s got a girl in Ravenclaw. Half-blood. So he’s dreading this just as much as us.”

George breathed a sigh of relief. “Same with mine.”

So he’d gotten paired off too. You felt a huge bout of nervousness tense your muscles, and you nodded. The question you were wanting to ask must’ve appeared blatantly in your eyes, because George took your hands in his and squeezed them. “You know that Hufflepuff? Lead singer in the frog choir?”

Your heart dropped about a thousand stories. Of course you knew her. She was stunning. And dating that Slytherin bloke, the one who was exceptionally good at Charms. It didn’t stop the nerves from bubbling up inside of you though. You bit your lip and stammered, “She -- she’s beautiful.”

George brought your hands to his lips and kissed them gently. He hated seeing you like this, you could tell, because there was a type of yearning in his eyes you’d never seen before. He shook his head and pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “No, you’re beautiful.”

Just then, the very obnoxious foghorn-like sound emitted from the castle, signaling the end of Quidditch and that all students must return to their respective dormitories immediately. Gravity was pulling you both apart, but you both defied it, testing fate, holding onto one another just a moment longer.

George kissed you with an intensity you’d never known -- you didn’t exactly know when the next time you’d be able to be this close to him. It proved to be the most difficult thing you’d ever had to do to pull away. “Be careful, be safe -- I love you.”

“I love you too, George.”

You watched as he ran forward to meet Fred, who shot you a sympathetic gaze. You mechanically entered the group of Muggle-borns who were heading back to the dorms. Before vanishing toward the opposite end of the castle, George threw you one last inconspicuous glance and brought a hand gently to his heart.

-- -

“George, it’s not up to me, it’s not up to you,”

Grimmauld Place looked disturbingly non-Christmas like, despite Molly’s best efforts at decorating in her spare time between visits to the hospital to see Arthur. You’d managed, in a strange, winding way, to end up here. It proved to be very difficult though. Umbridge was now monitoring all floo-networks and the skies for flying, and it was becoming increasingly hard to apparate when your heart just wasn’t in it. But you’d made it -- somehow. You worshiped these few days here, unbeknownst to her.

You shifted uncomfortably underneath the blanket, unable to find a position on the couch that made you feel okay. Comfortable. Safe.

You glanced down at your scarred hand and ran your fingers along the words that were reflected on George’s as well.

I must not disobey the law.

The law. That’s what Umbridge thought this was. So when she caught George attempting to sneak down to the dungeons one night to see you, if only for a moment, she threw the both of you in separate four-hour long detentions, these six words now permanently engraved into your skin.

“I don’t care,” George breathed. “I don’t care about Umbridge, or these stupid rules, or the shop, or the fact that I’ve got this ridiculous phrase on my skin. I don’t care about any of it, I care about you.”

You bit your lip as the tears began to flow. You knew he didn’t mean that. Of course he cared. “I care about you too, but what are we supposed to do?”

“Let’s fight this!”

“We’ve tried! We’ve tried, George! Umbridge is so set in her ways, not even Dumbledore can shut this down! D’you think this is easy for me?” you cried. “D’you think it’s easy knowing that there’s a beautiful woman you’ve been paired with, or that there’s a man who I’m expected to spend my life with when all I’ve been doing for the better half of the last two and a half years is planning my life with you? It’s not bloody easy, George, it’s not, tell me how this is fair, tell me!” You weren’t sure when you’d started pounding on his chest, but your rattled cries echoed throughout the empty living room space. George pulled you into his chest, gripping the back of your neck tightly in his hands as he continually pressed kisses into your hair. Your sobs turned hoarse and raspy; you were crying fully now, desperate moans evaporating into the tense air above you.

You hated hearing him cry, so when he opened his mouth to speak and his words were jumbled and emotional, you squeezed your eyes shut tight, hoping that you’d open them to something other than this nightmare. “I don’t -- I don’t want to give up on us, love.”

“And you think I do?”

“No, no, of course not!” he cried, letting his emotions get the better of him. He sucked in a breath as you dabbed gently at your tears, even though fresh ones fell just as quickly as the old ones vanished. How could this be the plan for you two? How could this be your fate, when you were so in love with one another? He shook his head. “No, I’m not done. I’m not done fighting for this. Bloody hell, I don’t even care if I’ve got to use the cruciatus curse on her. I’ll give up the shop, I’ll do anything. I don’t care about anyone else --”

“George, please, you can’t give up the shop, I won’t let you --”

“Come hell or high water, I’m fighting for you,” in a moment of fury, he grabbed and cradled your head in his hands before pressing a forceful kiss to your lips. It didn’t stop you from crying. When you both parted, you peered up at him and noticed tears near the edges of his eyes. “I’m not giving up on us. I love you.”

You gently brought a hand to his cheek and caressed his skin. You choked out, “I love you, too.”

Sometime later on, after you’d both drifted off, you woke to the sound of slight shuffling around the room. Wrapped around you in a tight embrace, George was fast asleep, his breathing now steady and slow. You noticed Molly walk over to you both and cover you with an extra blanket, her wedding ring dazzling brightly in the moonlight flooding the room.

She must’ve noticed your puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks, because she reached out and ran a gentle hand through your hair. Tears had risen in your eyes immediately at her touch, as well as surprise. You’d expected a scolding for falling asleep together, but instead she just whispered, “Fate will win in the end.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and let the tears fall, but managed to nod at her and squeeze her hand. She gently caressed your cheek and placed a kiss to your head and to George’s before crossing the room and quietly closing the door.

George stirred a bit when you interlaced your fingers with his. You pressed your lips softly to the top of his hand before letting more tears fall and adjusting within his embrace, the one you came to know so well, and found yourself craving more than oxygen itself.

-- -

“They love you. I promise. They always have, haven’t they?” The fire reflecting in his eyes resembled how the fire in your bones felt. Wild. With reckless abandon.

“But this is different!” you squealed, pushing gently away from him so he couldn’t tickle you. “Before I was just good mates with all of you. Now I’m -- your girlfriend.”

George threaded his brows together in confusion. “Wait, you are? Since when?”

He earned himself a playful jab to the ribs for that one. Outside the Burrow, the snow was falling soundlessly. It had been three days since George had kissed you under the mistletoe, two days since you made it official, one day since he re-introduced you to his family as his girlfriend. It was the perfect Christmas.

“I’m just.. worried, is all. They’re getting to know me in a different way, you know?”

“Don’t worry, love,” he reassured you, placing a gentle kiss to your hairline. “Fred’s mad for you, always has been -- waiting ages for us to get together, hasn’t he? Ginny and Ron adore you.. I can’t wait for you to meet Bill and Charlie finally. Er -- can’t make any promises about Percy, though. No matter -- he’s a foul little git, anyway.”

You sniggered a bit and felt your breath catch in your throat when George began to trace small circles on your knee. You swallowed. “And your mum and dad?”

His smile only deepened. “Well they love you, don’t they? Mum’s always called you part of the family already. And my dad, well -- you know about my dad.”

You’d never felt the Muggle part of you was that exciting, but somehow Arthur Weasley’s enthusiasm for it made you feel like it was such a precious part of you, that you were all the better for it.

George continued, “Now that you’ll be spending more time here, I reckon he’ll keep you occupied in conversation for hours. Making you tell him everything about Muggles. Apologies in advance.” George laughed softly for a moment and waved his wand to bring you both cups of tea to settle in for the evening. “Besides, he’ll go absolutely mad when he meets your parents. He’s always hoped one of us would have Muggle in-laws.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise and teased him. “In-laws? Already have us married, do you?”

When you giggled playfully, George didn’t, but instead squeezed your hand a few times and let his sincerity speak for itself through his facial features. His soft eyes, yearning and hungry and wildly in love. His mouth in a lazy grin. His chest rising and falling slowly, as if being able to look at you had finally regulated his breathing. Like you were the oxygen that was finally refilling his lungs.

You stammered, breathless. “Y-you do think about that, don’t you?”

He shrugged, as if to play off the whole thing. “Haven’t scared you off, have I?”

You brought a hand to the back of his neck and laced your fingers through his bright red hair. You smiled. “Of course not.”

“Good,” he replied cheerily, as if the idea of you two getting married was obvious. “Because I’ve known it for years, you and I. Fred reckons I may have willed this into existence,” He chuckled to himself more so than to you. You didn’t think your heart could pound any faster than it had the other day when he’d kissed you for the first time. You were wildly wrong. He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “You were the one I was meant to find.”

-- -

December 1997

The cobblestone on Diagon Alley was slick with fresh rain. The lights on either side of the street flickered ominously. But there it was, as bright and brilliant as ever, colours in the dismal gray, light in the impending darkness.

“I’m not leaving! I’m giving up the shop and I’m staying here at school, alright? I’m staying with you.”

“No, George, you can’t! You can’t give that up for me. I won’t let you. You’ve worked far too hard for this.”

“I’m not leaving you here! Not with her! She’s torturing students left and right --”

“And I will be okay,” you replied with tears in your eyes. You squeezed his hands tight and his chest was heavy with sobs. “Your plans are bigger than this, and they’re bigger than me.”

It had been almost two years since he’d left on a broomstick, firework dragons swimming through the castle and the sky as he and his brother left their final mark on the Hogwarts grounds.

Almost two years since Umbridge had been replaced by Dumbledore, and the Hogwarts you knew and loved went back to some type of normal, the entire idea of blood status pairs driven into the ground with a stake.

But it had also been almost two years since Muggle-borns were forced into hiding for fear of the impending war.

Two years since you’d seen him. Heard his voice. Felt his touch.

He was crying fully now. “This -- this can’t be it for us.”

Your lip wobbled hearing those heart wrenching words. He’d always been the stronger of you two, comforting you when you cried -- this felt strangely unfamiliar. You didn’t quite fancy being the strong one, but he needed you. “It’s not. It’s not, okay? This is not the end. I promise. But you deserve this, George. You deserve the world. And one day, when this is all over, if I’m still lucky enough -- I’ll find you again. Come hell or high water. You need to follow your dream, okay?”

It wasn’t a breakup, but it sure felt like one.

He pressed his forehead to yours and an involuntary, hoarse cry escaped his lips. “But you’re my dream.”

“George, please --” you stopped yourself. You didn’t finish the words that were rising to your lips. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. You cupped his chin in your hands and peered up at him, your vision blurry. But you could still see his lips were set in a thin, firm line, his jaw was clenched tightly. He was going to leave.

You looked down at the red thread tied loosely around your pinky finger. You followed it with your eyes as it wrapped around street lamps, signs and other shops, before ending up exactly where you’d always known it would when it had first appeared on your finger after you’d graduated school.

93 Diagon Alley.

“My heart will always belong to you, love.”

As you hurried down the street, following your little thread, and the shop came into better view, you could feel the sheer intensity of the anticipation bubbling up inside you.

You pointed your wand ahead, illuminating the dark street and readying yourself for any dementors or Death Eaters that were lurking close by.

But before you reached the doors, someone ran into the middle of the street and stopped short. You lifted your wand higher, ready to hex, until you realized who it was.

George was standing in the middle of the cobblestone, hair in disarray, in his sweater his mum had knitted him every single year. He’d always told you how comforting it felt to wear. You couldn’t help the slight laugh that escaped you, for the first time you’d seen him in two years he so very similarly resembled that young, cheeky boy you’d teased your first Christmas at Hogwarts for the socks he’d knitted on his own to match the gift from his mother.

He said your name in a whisper, but in your ears it sounded like a booming shout -- like all the world could hear it, if they were listening.

And you noticed your little thread, stretching along the street, ending in a tiny knot on his own hand.

You wanted to tell him that you were here to find him, and that you’d been able to escape the hiding you were under, due to being a Muggle-born. You wanted to tell him that you hadn’t once stopped thinking about him since you’d last seen him all those years ago and that when you’d finally seen that thread, you were convinced it led here -- you’d just never been able to act on it. You wanted to tell him that you prayed for him every single night.

But all that escaped your mouth was another nervous laugh before you were running and slipping along the street before winding up in a bone crushing embrace you were bound to feel the effects of tomorrow.

He wanted to tell you that he’d never met anyone as selfless as you, how equally excited and heartbroken he was when you’d told him to leave and charge forward. He wanted to tell you that he’d been spending every single day waiting for news, any news at all that Muggle-borns were no longer in hiding. He wanted to tell you that he’d had enough, and he was coming to find you just as he stumbled before you on this little street. He wanted to tell you that he’d never once stopped loving you.

But instead all he could do was kiss you fiercely and brush the tears away that were escaping your eyes, because that kiss was telling you both everything you needed to know -- all of those unspoken words, all of those bottled up feelings, all of the unwavering love you’d carried in your hearts for one another throughout all of the moments that kept you apart.

And then he was kneeling before you, raindrops dripping down from his hair and onto his face and neck, and he was saying the things you’d always dreamt of him saying, and he was opening a box with a ring inside that took your breath away, just as his first kiss had.

A familiar ring.

Molly’s ring.

Your breath hitched at the sight of it, and her words from that Christmas echoed in your mind.

Fate will win in the end.

When George placed it on your finger, you both noticed through blurry vision that the thread that had been attached to you both had disappeared into thin air.

You’d found one another again, despite it all, despite the tyrants and the war and the rules that were holding both of you hostage.

Because this was the fate you were both destined for. This was the moment. Husband and wife, together or apart.

Fate had won in the end.

Just like Molly had told you.

The fire crackled pleasantly alongside the faint sound of Christmas music. You reached out and traced a finger over his jawline. His words made you feel simultaneously cozy and incredibly nervous. “The one you were meant to find, huh?”

George laughed, probably because of how corny that had sounded. But he didn’t care -- he knew it was true. He’d known it since the day he met you, that fate had brought you together. He breathed in deeply and squeezed your knee. “Yeah, darling, I’ve already planned my whole life with you.”

reblogs, feedback, comments, and shares are all appreciated! thanks for reading :)

#george weasley #fred weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imagines #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins fanfiction #george weasley x reader #george weasley reader insert #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley one shot #soulmate au #molly weasley #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley x you

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writingisbetterthandying · 3 years

Text

village girl - mg

michael request! fluffy! i think! 🪴 finally lol but i will try and wrap up regret? or im not her

short!

sorry this took so long! is this good? idk i’ve been busy with school and fluff just does not come that easily but hopefully it’s okay? ending is vague ?

michael gray x fem!reader (i think it could be interpreted as gn but just to be safe)

you had known henry johnson your entire life.

growing up next door to him, afternoons were spent in the orchard, climbing trees, playing games. with age, came stolen kisses, whispered “i love you’s,” promises of a life beyond the village.

both of your parents absolutely adored your relationship, having seen it coming from the start.

he would relay information from his classes, the both of you sharing a spirit for learning, things that weren’t necessary to life on an orchard. other afternoons, you would read to one another under the shade of an apple tree, taking turns, usually with him against the trunk, and your head in his lap, or vice versa. stories of great modern cities, captivating adventures, budding romances. these books became windows and inspirations for a future together.

henry loved his family, you knew this, but you understood his need for more, for a less mundane life.

he told you about the man in the dark suit and the flat cap who visited his mother, her weariness after his visit. it sparked a curiosity within him, and he went out to look for more information.

when he found out the truth of his family and his origins, he was torn. he didn’t know what to think, and ran to you. his face conflicted, you didn’t pry, simply offering him some comfort, that whatever it may be, you would be there for him.

“this is so exciting henry!” he laughed at your giggles, free hand in yours, excitement visible, though much more subdued than yours.

“i’m gonna be michael now, love, not henry,” he said a bit sadly, like he was nervous- not quite comfortable with his new name. you simply nodded in acknowledgment, and the two of you boarded the train.

michael had been to small heath, met his mother and family, and had come back to get you to bring you back to birmingham. your parents had been hesitant at first, but trusted the boy they had known since his birth, and permitted you to leave with him, just once you yourself had turned eighteen.

michael, ever the gentlemen, let you sit near the window, allowing you to fully immerse yourself in the sights, sliding in next to you, his hand gently placed on your knee.

the view slowly transitioned from the bright familiar orchards and villages, to the industrialized and gray city that you assumed to be small heath.

once the train stopped, he grabbed your hand and helped you leave the carriage.

the air was thick with smoke, making you cough a little, but the adjustment came quickly.

“are you alright, love?”

the genuine concern in his voice made you giggle a little.

“i’m alright mickie, but thank you for asking,” you added with a little peck on his cheek.

he tried to suppress his blush, but not before you were able to see the red on his cheeks spread to his neck.

hand in hand, the two of you wove through the bustling streets, michael briefly mentioning his mother’s home and a betting shop.

upon arriving, he went ahead, confidently opening the door as if he lived there his whole life.

“mum! i’m home!” he announced.

he led you towards the kitchen, where a firm, but beautiful looking woman in a dark dress sat with a cigarette and a steaming pot of tea.

“well you must be y/n. you’re even more beautiful than my michael told us all.” she said with a smile.

“thank you, mrs.gray, you have such a lovely home.”you responded with a smile.

“now please sit, let’s have some tea.”

michael, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair, and conversation came quickly, surprisingly easily as you and polly- as she insisted you refer to her as- traded stories of michael, as he tried to look as nonchalant about it all as possible.

it was all going quite well before three, quite handsome- tall, besuited men with flat caps came barreling through.

one of them, with the lightest hair and a toothpick hanging from his mouth stopped in his tracks at the sight of you.

“well who’s this? our dear cousin’s got himself a country tart, eh?”

“fuck off, john” michael responded cooly.

your eyes had widened a bit, not quite anticipating such a response or initial dialogue.

“look at her, scared as a little field mouse from the country. you reckon she’s simple?” came from a gruff voice- the oldest looking one with a very prominent mustache.

“i wouldn’t be the one talking about simplicity when you can’t register your proximity to whom you insult, and weakly at that. it’s hardly noon and you’re swaying in your step, sir. drunkards don’t scare me, and neither do simple men. so scared as a field mouse, no. certainly not as meek as one either, i was simply stunned by your blatant displays of stupidity.”

you had shocked yourself a bit with your response, but by polly’s snicker and wink, you could tell it was a well received. the oldest, with the mustache, simply backed off with two hands held forward in surrender, and was quickly followed by john, the other.

“welcome to small heath, not so meek little mouse, i’m thomas- you can call me tommy. i think you’ll fit in quite nicely around here.” introduced the last cousin, with a hint of a smile on his lips. you thanked him, introducing yourself a bit more formally.

as he left you heard a rambling of how you should meet someone named ada, but you would have to ask michael later.

you thanked polly for tea as michael insisted on showing you around the city beyond her parlor.

barely outside the door, he pulled you into a firm, but loving kiss.

“that was brilliant in there love, absolutely brilliant,” he emphasized with some additional, but brief, kisses.

you gave a cheeky wink in response, but nuzzled your head in his chest in slight embarrassment.

he grabbed your hand and you eventually left the embrace, headed onwards, ready to discover what the city had to offer.

“welcome to small heath love.”

“thank you for taking me to small heath, love.”

#michael gray x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #pb

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ask-the-riders · 3 years

Text

Movie Night

A flashback kinda thing, I guess, showing Connie back before she met Death (when she still went by Chimera)

Contains some of Glo's shenanigans, some of her friendship with Cobalt, and even some of her friendship with her demon buddy, too :P

I know it leaves off at kind of a weird spot, but eh. I wasn't sure what else to add ^^"

Chimera let out a soft whine, and her companion snorted, arching a brow bone, "See? I told you that you wouldn't like this movie." The female skeleton made a face, lightly swatting at his arm, "Oh whatever, Cobalt! I don't remember you ever saying anything of the sort!" Cobalt sighed softly, absentmindedly wrapping his arm around Chimera and tugging her flush against his side. As a masked killer emerged from a building on the tv screen and began to pursue a group of young monsters, she turned, cuddling as close to her friend as possible and burying her face in part of his shoulder.

He sighed, content to have her in his arms as they sat on her living room sofa. Appearing in the entrance to her kitchen, an all too familiar pink and blue fire elemental held up a bag of unpopped popcorn, "Hey love birds, I'm making popcorn. You want any?" Both skeletons immediately froze, Chimera's face flushing bright orange while Cobalt's became a faint shade of blue. Chimera made a face at the fire elemental in question and groaned, "Come on, Glo! I thought you said you wouldn't tease us like that anymore!" Glo hummed, "No idea what you're talking about. Now do you want any popcorn, or am I only making it for myself?" The female skeleton rolled her eye lights, "I think I'm good for now. What about you?" She looked to Cobalt and he shrugged, "Sure, why not? I'll take a bag, I guess."

Glo playfully scoffed, her attention focused on Chimera as she gestured to him, "I'm tellin' ya, he knows what's up." Cobalt couldn't help the amused grin that found it's way onto his face and Chimera waved off her adopted sister's words, trying to hide her own tiny smile, "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Glo." The fire elemental held the flat, unpopped bag of popcorn in both hands, and as her body temperature began to rise, the bag began to unfold on its own, the kernels inside loudly popping. Once the bag was done, she called out, "Incoming!" Chimera looked up in time to see Glo toss the bag in her direction, and her sockets widened. She let out a soft gasp as Cobalt moved without warning, raising a hand to catch the bag with seemingly no effort. Quickly trying to regain her composure, she prepared to scold Glo, only to find that Glo had already vanished back into the kitchen, likely to get another bag of popcorn from the cupboard.

When Glo returned and made herself comfortable on the floor, everything went silent as the three went back to watching their movie. As the end credits began rolling, Glo scooted away, and the pair of skeletons watched curiously as she wedged herself inside the unlit fireplace. Her body temperature began to rise again, warming the room ever so slightly and casting a pink and blue glow across the space. Chimera raised a brow bone, visibly confused, "Uhh Glo, what are you doing in there?" Glo took her phone out of her pocket and pushed a button, sliding it a bit away from herself and grinning mischievously as 'Careless Whisper' began to play through their Bluetooth radio, "I'm about to see this ship set sail. Now ignore me. I'm your warm, cozy evening fire and nothing more."

Chimera's orange blush slowly spread down to her shoulders, and she attempted to hide her face again, very clearly embarrassed as she murmured, "Oh my God, I cannot believe you right now..." Cobalt's blush gradually began to darken as well and he sighed, lifting his free arm and awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, unsure of how he should respond. An unexpected guest cleared his throat and Chimera squeaked in surprise, jerking her entire body back away from Cobalt. Her guest arched a single brow, the rest of his expression appearing bored, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." The female skeleton stared up at him with wide eyes, her face still burning a vibrant orange as she shook her head, "N-No, of course not! I-I um... What are you doing here, Dr. Wright?" The demon sighed softly, "Please. It's 'Soren', remember? We're past the point of needing formalities." Cobalt offered him a polite smile, "Hey there, Soren. What's up, dude?" The demon's attention snapped to him and he hummed in disapproval, "I said it was 'Soren' to her, not to you." Cobalt held up his hands in surrender, "Sorry, sorry. I guess I forgot about that."

In what felt like the blink of an eye, Glo slipped out of the fireplace and lowered her body temperature as she zipped across the room. Reaching out to delicately touch the demon's arm, she smiled sweetly up at him and purred, "Well hello there, Doctor~ I was starting to wonder when you'd come see me again." He deadpanned, his vibrant, almost neon green gaze boring into her, "It's 'Soren' to Chimera, and 'Dr. Wright' to that other bonehead. To you, however, it's 'Diamondback.' Please refrain from calling me anything else. If you do, I may have to hurt you for it. Do you understand?" Glo was frozen for a moment, nodding slowly, "...Yeah. I read you loud and clear." Diamondback sighed, "Good. Now will you please remove your hand from my arm? I don't care much for physical contact." The fire elemental nodded again, promptly releasing his arm and taking a step back, watching quietly as he looked over his sleeve, as if inspecting the area she'd touched.

Chimera also watched him, her breath momentarily catching in her false throat as his gaze locked with hers. Clearing his throat again, he lifted a hand, conjuring a small stack of books, "I thought I'd stop by to drop these off, since I remember how interested you were in them last time you were over." She smiled politely, standing and making her way over to him. Carefully accepting the books with one hand, her other gently patted his arm and she hummed, "Thank you, Soren. I appreciate that very much, and I'll be sure to get them back to you as soon as I'm finished reading them." The demon nodded, "Of course. Despite my numerous attempts to push you away, you kept coming back, and as fate would have it you're my friend now, so it's only fair that I allow you access to my personal library." Her smile widened slightly as she stepped aside, gingerly placing the books on a small stand, "That's very kind of you. I'm really happy that we're on such good terms like this."

Diamondback offered her a slight smile, his fangs peeking out of his mouth, "As am I." As Cobalt caught sight of the fangs, he shrunk back the smallest bit, absentmindedly lifting a hand to prod at one of his own, much smaller fangs. Glo's flames very briefly flickered in interest as she caught sight of the demon's fangs, and she let out a soft breath; For all she knew, Diamondback could be venomous, but she was dying to know what it'd be like to experience a bite from him. As if her interest was beginning to show on her face, the demon shifted his attention to her, his small smile falling into a frown, "Whatever disgusting thoughts you're having had better be gone soon. I don't like that you're ogling me, young lady."

Glo's face became flushed with a faint blush and she smiled awkwardly, "Sorry... Can't help it, I guess." She paused, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, "Not when you're this good looking. If you weren't so attractive, maybe I wouldn't ogle you as much." As if a switch had been flipped, the demon warped through the space between them, his hand firmly catching her jaw as he leaned down, his eyes narrowed as he hissed, "I would've let it slide this time, if you hadn't added on that additional little comment." Glo's soul began to beat faster in her chest and she stared at him with wide eyes, frozen in place. Not giving her the chance to say anything more, he bared his fangs, letting them both be fully exposed as a liquid - more than likely venom, Glo assumed - began to gather at the tips and a faint rattling sound could be heard from somewhere nearby. A single drop of his venom dripped down onto the carpet, and the demon drew in a deep breath, attempting to calm himself, "For the last time, you're not my type, and you never will be. I'm in the process of courting someone else, and I would like it very much if you could stop flirting with me."

The fire elemental continued to stare at him with wide eyes, still visibly in shock. Taking her silence as agreement, he released his hold on her jaw and the rattling sound around them began to fade away. Closing his mouth and allowing his lips to conceal his fangs again, he sighed softly, glancing up at Chimera as she cautiously approached him, keeping her voice low, "I'm sorry for all of her flirting, but I do appreciate that you're able to control your temper. Thank you for not lashing out, Soren." Diamondback's shoulders seemed to sag a bit and he hummed, mumbling back, "Of course... I might be a demon, but that doesn't mean I'm some irredeemable creature that enjoys causing harm." As if she could read his body language, she frowned, "And I've never thought that of you. Not even once. You have your good days and bad days, just like everyone else."

Diamondback offered her a small, vaguely saddened smile, "I appreciate that, Chimera. I think I should head on home now and call it a night, though... It's getting late, and I have work tomorrow." The female skeleton nodded in understanding, "That's alright. I hope you rest well tonight, Soren. I'll be over again tomorrow to drop off your mail and some goodies, since you seem like you could really use a few right now." Diamondback made a sound in acknowledgment, "Ok, that sounds like a plan, I suppose. Thank you in advance for the goodies, in case I'm not there when you stop by." Chimera offered him a small but genuine smile, gently patting his shoulder before taking a step back. Shifting his attention back to Glo, he sighed, "Apologies for the outburst. I hope I didn't traumatize you or anything." Glo nodded, her voice cracking, "I-It's ok. It's on me, for always hitting on you." The demon offered her a tiny smile, glad to hear that she was finally taking responsibility for something. In the blink of an eye, he seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving the pair of skeletons and the fire elemental alone.

Chimera let out a soft sigh, returning to her seat on the couch. Casting a glance up at the clock that hung on the nearby wall, Cobalt frowned; Like Diamondback had said, it had gotten later than he'd realized. Because it was getting so late, that meant he'd have to head home for the night. He wasn't working tomorrow, so he could always ask if Chimera wanted to hang out again in the morning. He stole a glance at her, quietly appreciating her perfectly smooth ivory bones, the way her nimble fingers moved as she idly picked at her clothes, and the soft, peaceful smile she wore. As if she sensed him looking at her, Chimera met his gaze and tilted her head curiously, her cheekbones gaining the faintest hint of a blush, "Something on your mind, Cobalt?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, he cleared his throat and shook his head, his brow bones furrowing as he shook his head and offered her a small smile, "Nah, it's nothing, 'Mera. Just spacing out again, I guess." The female skeleton made a sound in understanding, "Ah, I see. You know, I think that's something that happens more often when you get tired. Have you been sleeping alright?" Cobalt shrugged his shoulders, glancing away from her and hoping she wouldn't notice the slight bags under his sockets, "Eh... My sleep schedule hasn't been the best, but at least it's better than nothing." Chimera frowned, reaching out to gently touch his arm, "Coby, you should've said something. If you'd like some medicine to help you sleep at night, I have more than enough in my cupboard."

At the nickname, his cheekbones flushed a soft shade of blue, and he grinned sheepishly, "I know, I know... Sorry about that. Are you sure you'd wanna give me any of that medicine though?... What if you run out sometime soon and don't have anymore when you need it?" Chimera arched a brow bone, "I can always make another trip to the store, you goof. It wouldn't be a problem, I promise. Just... You seem like you could use some, and I'd be happy to share." Cobalt let out a soft sigh in defeat, still smiling sheepishly, "Ok... If you're sure about that, then I guess it'd be alright. I just don't wanna inconvenience you at all, y'know?" She scooted closer to him, and without warning, lifted both hands, delicately cupping his face and prompting him to look at her. Locking gazes, his breath momentarily hitched, and his soft blush because a bit brighter. Making sure to hold his gaze, she offered him a reassuring smile, "Cobalt, it's ok. I don't mind giving you some medicine, if it means helping you sleep better at night."

She paused, lightly tapping on his cheekbone with her thumb, "I really like being able to help you, you know. It makes me happy." Cobalt was frozen, his blush very gradually becoming even brighter. His gaze drifted downward, briefly settling on her teeth. For a moment, he couldn't help but notice how smooth they looked, and then when he coaxed himself to make eye contact with her again, his sockets widened the smallest bit; Those beautiful eyes... They were focused solely on him. The soft glow from her eye lights cast a faint glow, and the warmth in her gaze made him melt. He snuck another quick glance at her teeth, and then he watched quietly as she seemed to mirror what he'd just done, her eye lights flickering downward to his own teeth.

She seemed to debate something for a moment, before she leaned closer, gently pressing her forehead to his. Cobalt stared at her, breathing in her scent and noting what seemed to be a hint of oranges in the smell as he looked at her. He opened his mouth to speak, wanting to somehow acknowledge how beautiful Chimera was, but to his frustration, no sound would come out. Keeping her voice soft, the female skeleton murmured, "I'm gonna go get that medicine for you... I think I'm gonna send you off with some of the leftovers from dinner, too. Is that ok?" Cobalt nodded, making a sound in confirmation as he murmured back, "Yeah, of course. I love your cooking, so it's not like I'd have any complaints with that."

A soft orange blush dusted across her face and she smiled, almost looking shy, "Ok... I'm really happy you like it that much." Cobalt could only smile back at her, his soul thudding inside his chest. As she withdrew her hands and backed up a bit, he let out a deep sigh, trying to push back to disappointment he felt; She was so close, and he could've sworn he felt something there. If he had acted on it the way he'd wanted to, then maybe, just maybe, he could've-

Chimera stood, vanishing from the room and leaving him alone with Glo, who was quietly staring at him with raised brows and the hint of a smug grin that was hidden within her flames. Looking at the fire elemental, he arched a brow bone, "What?" She hummed, still grinning, "Oh, I think you know 'what,' mister man." Cobalt willed his blush to fade and he deadpanned, "Nope. I have no idea what you're talking about." Glo let out an exaggerated sigh, moving closer to him, "Oh come on, yes, you do. It was all of that, just now. Her touching your face, the foreheads touching, all of that prolonged eye contact, and the way you guys kept looking at each other's teeth. You wanted to kiss her, didn't you?" Cobalt's blush reignited, now so bright that it began to glow faintly, "Shut up, airhead. What if she hears you saying stuff like that?" Completely unbothered by what she'd been called, Glo tilted her head, "I'm gonna take that as a 'yes.' If I'm right, then why didn't you?"

Cobalt fell silent, his gaze shifting away from his companion. He watched to entrance to the kitchen for a few seconds before mumbling, "...I dunno if she even likes me, like that... And I wouldn't wanna feel like I was forcing anything on her. If that's what it felt like from her perspective, that means I might as well say goodbye to my friendship with her." The fire elemental stared at him for a moment before reaching out and flicking his face. He jerked back away from the contact in surprise, "What was that for, weirdo?" Glo raised a single brow and sighed again, "You're such a dweeb, y'know that? If you're not sure how she feels about you, then ask. If she doesn't give you the response you want, you can either pass off the question as nothing more than curiosity, or you can make your big confession. If you take a risk and tell her how you feel, then who knows... Maybe she'll end up feeling the same."

#writing #conquest.exe #glo.exe #cobalt.exe #four horsemen of the apocalypse #riders of the apocalypse #undertale #undertale au #diamondback.exe

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flowerbloom-arts · 3 years

Text

A rather unneeded apology, don't you think?

Progress shots and thought process below the cut (warning, it gets heavy on pshycological analytical nonsense and spoilers for Exploits of Moominpappa/'s Memoirs, and it's really long):

Ah yes, Muddler angst, something that should be one too many yet you can't quite get enough of it-

So it all started with this little metaphor from this post I made a while back and I thought "Hmm... I should really make a follow-up for that!" so I did, and here it is.

This was originally gonna be a lineless painting but then when I started to do that I thought about how much of a drag it would be and scrapped that for my regular style but with cooler shading and coloring. I'm happy with it, it's been a while since I've done a full illustration and I'm proud that I managed to make this in like... (Checks timer on my drawing app) 2 hours and 25 minutes? Huh.

Anyway, this whole illustration is more or less just a metaphor going on in Muddler's head when he's cracked under stress, it's the "boat floating on your own personal ocean" metaphor like the post I linked above, it is indeed a constantly raging sea of stress and change and mental/lifestyle instability that's going on in Muddler's head and he's on a houseboat floating on it trying to balance and protect itself from the tides. It's always rocking back and forth but it's been doing that all the time for so long that it barely registers for him anymore, so he's living in this unnerving calm where the calm is not serenity perse but a lack of terror, yet, sometimes that raging sea manages to break through a window or two and flood the place as a good reminder that he isn't immune, he can and will drown for as long as things are like this.

The sea isn't a place of good memories for Muddler in either version of the book, like, the sea is so big that it's general emptiness on the horizon tickles his eyes. Before that he painted the boat red and got it all over himself and then painted his tin with the leftover paint, needless to say he had a rather traumatic night where the paint never dried and it got all over his food and bed and whiskers which drove him insane (or plume crazy I should say). He also had a rough time in his tin while packing for the riverboat and being swept away by the flood caused by Edward the Booble, he said his nerves (and his button collection) were all unsorted after the rest of the crew managed to get the tin on board. Then other stuff happens- an awful Hemulen Aunt boarding the ship (he literally wished death upon her, a rather extreme gesture especially for Muddler), the Hemulen Aunt being taken away by the Niblings (and the ensuing guilt he felt when he felt that it was his fault since he wished for her to be eaten), a rough and sticky night, being the first to realise the boat was setting off to sea unintentionally in the middle of the night, having to sit through a gale in which he got very sick- and that's just stuff that happened on the boat! He also had to suffer the likes of the revenge of the forgotten bones! The Ghost painted Muddler's tin and he cried about it, thinking it's a warning sign that he'll never marry! And he's the only one who was legitimately terrified of the Ghost, imagine being one of like, a 4 person friend group and being the only one scared of a real scary thing that directly affected you in one of the worst ways possible- vandalism of your own home. And don't even get me started on the fact that he lost his parents during spring cleaning and still believes they're alive.

With that being said, I believe we all understand that Muddler has been through alot, he had a revelation that adventures cause nothing but trouble for the poor guy in the middle of the book. And seeing how he cried at the idea of never getting married, we can presume he just wants a normal life after that. Thankfully, Fuzzy provided that through marriage and kids, even though they lost one of them by accident.

Now with this in mind, I have implemented a few elements from the book into the illustration. I've also followed some color-coding rules I've made up for myself;

Blue=Safety and comfort (Hodgkins is his uncle and is canonically blue-colored for the most part, not to mention that his Maxwell House Coffee tin is blue aswell, both are sources of safety for Muddler)

Green=Protection (Joxter is usually depicted in a green dress/hat, he stood up for Muddler atleast twice in the book and we can presume these weren't the only times he does it. Joxter is rather confident in his abilities despite being lazy and Muddler would rather admire that)

Yellow=Achievement/accomplishment (nothing much here, just uhh... Gold is yellow-ish and gold usually means you've accomplished something)

Red=Stress/general negativity (This is mostly coming from the red paint incident)

I've also added some small references and details. I've avoided using the ruler tool on my lineart to give it less solid feel to the backround and everything, showing how it's not supposed to be a full representation of reality, the pictures being faceless also adds to that. I drew an interpretation of the Muddler and Fuzzy wedding photo found in the moomin theme park, the gold medal on Hodgkins' portrait says "you helped" and it's supposed to be the medal that Hodgkins said Muddler deserved for helping him figure out the propeller (accidentally) in the Exploits version and I like to think he has that thought always in the back of his mind as one of the few times he's felt genuinely useful since he got so happy from it. Oh! And the picture almost completely hidden by the curtains is a portrait of his father and that's Joxter at the bottom looking like he's peeking over the curtain when really he's not. The curtains are green because they protect him from the red outside world, the suit and yellow dead flowers being darkly colored are supposed to represent a sense of meaninglessness or general distain, the red liquid is supposed to be red paint, not blood aaaaaaand the window is a slight shade of blue with a screen overlay.

"Apologies for being weak-minded" is supposed to be a rather insincere but tired quote from Muddler, he doesn't really want to apologise for cracking under pressure and having a literal breakdown but he feels like he has to because I think he just feels like a nuisance alot of the time and being so negatively emotional just makes things worse, so he has to come up with an apology rather than tell the person he's talking to the reason why he broke down, and belittling his own feelings by calling himself weak-minded. He knows himself to be "too" sensitive.

Anyway, that was too long a ramble. Just know that I'm not trying to take myself too seriously here, it's a silly amount of thought put into this but eh, I enjoyed it, and I thought you might want to read about it and if you made this far; thank you.

#moomins #moominvalley #art #moomin muddler #muddler #the muddler #illustration #trust me the stuff under the cut is really long #I wish I could put more tags here but I guess these are all of them that matter

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pokeheadcannons97 · 4 years

Note

Bede with a autistic so (not to a certian extreme but enough to where loud noises, things chasing her, bright lights and such bother her)

I am not professionally diagnosed by a doctor as having autism, nor any slight signs of having it either. I do however have a significant other that has highly functioning autism.

If I do explain things incorrectly, please, PLEASE let me know. But I will be adding the things that I do to help them out and make things easier for them when we’re together. In this case it’s our favorite Bedey boy! <3

Bede is pretty perceptive, and not only in Pokemon battles

He noticed that you seemed insanely uncomfortable when you were sitting in the stands at his gym leader matches

You kept placing your hands over your ears and squinting your eyes, trying to block out the huge stage lights of the stadium above you

When the fans cheered and started chanting during a dynamax you seemed to want to collapse in on yourself

Needless to say he made absolute quick work of the challengers Pokemon, and immediately ran without so much as a handshake towards the challenger and into the personal break-room where he knew you’d be as soon as the match was over

“Y/N.” He said breathlessly as you turned around to face him, a clearly forced smile on your features.

“Hey honey, nice work with that challenger! You made quick with him, eh?” you replied fidgeting with your hands.

Bede took your hand wordlessly and brought it up to his cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me that you didn’t like being out in the stands?”

You gave him a surprised look, trying to retract your hand but he held on firmly. “What do you mean? I love seeing you and your matches!” you replied defensively.

The blond gave your hand a gentle kiss on the back of it, and locked eyes with you. He sat down on the bench by the both of you and urged you to sit next to him. “That’s not what I meant, N/N.”

He brought your hand down to his lap, and gripped it. “I’ve been noticing... that you don’t really enjoy being out with all the bright lights and volume of the fans in the stands.”

You felt your heart clench in your chest, and a sudden wave of shame washed over you. “Bede... please please don’t misunderstand. I will always support you, I love you, and I want to be there for you.” You let yourself release the heavy sigh that seemed to be trapped in your lungs.

“It’s just... hard for me to be around those bright lights and loud...” you whispered softer. “...loud fans and music that blares out of the speakers and around me.”

Bede listened fully, and brought his other hand to your cheek and cradled it in his palm. “You should’ve told me sooner... you should never ever feel like you need to hide things from me.” He stroked his thumb across your cheek, and wiped at the fallen tear that was sliding down your cheek. “I want to know what I can do to love you better. Your comfort means everything to me.”

He gave you a soft kiss on your forehead when you began to cry quietly.

“Thank you, Bede... you really do mean the world to me.”

...

From then on, Bede ordered you a pair of noise canceling headphones in your favorite color, and shades to match for you to wear in the stands at his matches. As well as a special place where you, Opal, and the occasional Hop could sit and watch him without being packed like the rest of the people in the stands.

He made sure that people wouldn’t crowd you. and sternly instructed them to give you space, and you were given that respectfully.

In addition he dimmed some lights in the house when the two of you were there, and watched the volume of the television and radio on board Corvinight taxis the two of you went on together

#bede x reader #pokemon bede #bede #pokemon swsh

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merryfortune · 3 years

Text

Day 6

Social Interactionism 2021

Day 6: “I’d like to formally propose that you hug me.”

Event: @hugsaku

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Ship: Aoi/Go/Yusaku

Word Count: 1.4k

Tags: Post Canon, Canon Compliant, Fluff with a Little Bit of Angst

AN: Big thank you to Serry for hosting Hugsaku, thank you so much, I’ve really enjoyed participating <333

“Bye, bye, Shima, see you tomorrow.” Aoi said.

Naoki scratched the back of his head and laughed, “Yeah, see you two Duel Club slackers tomorrow.”

Yusaku exhaled funnily hearing the slight hypocrisy in that statement but he waved goodbye to Naoki as well, who was no doubt thinking to himself how unfortunate it was that he didn’t live in that general direction like they did. Then, they could be a real trio going to and from school. Although, what he didn’t know was that Aoi didn’t live in that direction either, but she did have plans with the hot dog van. Plans involving hopefully reviving Aqua but that was getting ahead of things.

As a pair, Yusaku and Aoi shuffled along. It was getting a bit late, the skyline was dyeing orange with the evening as they walked in silence to the park. It was a comfortable silence, however, as they were both introverts and both knew that if any developments had happened during the day, then they would have much to talk about later, so it was best to save their breath.

Or, at least, that was the unspoken agreement before they happened along upon an unexpected encounter.

They were close to the park now, having walked for about fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes and there were a fair few people fanned out along the paths and such. The old man under a tree, reading a book; the mother pushing along a stroller with groceries tucked under the carriage; and the office lady with a reusable cup of coffee in one hand and her smartphone in the other. A whole host of people and with mild interest, Aoi and Yusaku observed just one: the runner in a dark navy hoodie who was up against the iron fence, catching his breath.

He pushed off against the fence with his two fists tucked in and his shoulders square. He was ready for another round of long-distance running, it seemed, as his pace was staunch and somewhat slow. He passed by Aoi and Yusaku by a shoulder and out of curiosity, both of them flicked their gazes up to him and they met his eyes. Heavy set, a steel blue. He blinked.

“Onizuka Go.” Aoi gasped with recognition.

He let go of the tension in his muscles that kept him tight and compact, ready to run and run for miles. He looked at them both, tentatively confused but had the courtesy to bring his hood down even though he liked to keep his eyes on the prize like a racehorse in blinders.

“Do I know…?” he murmured before his eyes glistened. He recognised them back. Well, at least one of them. “You… Your Zaizen’s sister.” He turned his head to Yusaku and studied him closer. There was something familiar about him but he couldn’t place it and Yusaku, instinctively, shied away from the attention, all but scurrying to hide his identity – or, in this case, identities given it was Go. “And… do I know you?” he asked. “Like, from way, way back?”

“Sort of…” Yusaku mumbled.

Aoi glanced at him and Yusaku nodded awkwardly. “It’s good to meet you properly, Onizuka, it’s been a while.”

“Y-Yeah,” he said, “and we never got that match, huh, Blue Angel?”

“Yes, that is a shame.” Aoi said.

Go rubbed the back of his neck, “I know I just had a breather, but I’m thinking we should sit down, maybe?”

“I’d like that.” Yusaku piped up.

They looked around and found an unoccupied garden bench in the park, in the shade of some trees. They sat, with not much space amongst them, with Yusaku in the middle, of all places. He felt just a little bit claustrophobic between them but did his best to withstand that middling pressure.

Looking up at Go, even just in stolen glances, it was heartening to see that he had put some of his lost weight back on. He wasn’t quite as showstopping muscular as he once was but he had padded out to what looked good and healthy on him.

He sat with his hands in his lap, twiddling his thumbs, and he looked at Yusaku, “So, you a fan?” he asked.

“Kind of.” Yusaku replied. “My name is Fujiki Yusaku, but you might know me better as Playmaker.”

Go’s eyes widened. He didn’t believe it – or maybe he didn’t want to believe it.

“And just as I’m Blue Angel, as you know, I’m Blue Girl and Blue Maiden as well, but maybe you already knew.” Aoi added, she did her best to not sound wracked with surprise as she hadn’t been expecting Yusaku’s easy admission of his other self.

“N-No, I believe it.” Go said but it seemed more to Yusaku than to Aoi.

“I figure, since we have this chance to talk, you deserved to know.” Yusaku said.

“Thanks.” Go said because he wasn’t sure what else to say.

He hadn’t been expecting that Playmaker would be some gawky, awkward kid but it made sense to him that such a stoic person might be stoic because he was socially graceless more so than hardened and intense like a criminal.

“No, I should be thanking you.” Yusaku said, feeling a little bit stronger and certain with what he wanted to use this opportunity for. “Or,” he added, “I should be apologising to you. But maybe both. I think both works so I’ll start with thank you. Thank you for trying your best to defend the Link VRAINS from the Knights of Hanoi. I was distraught when you were defeated by Revolver, admittedly, because I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Playmaker…” Go breathed.

Yusaku prickled. “I was scared. I tried pushing you – you and Aoi – away because I didn’t want to see you get hurt but that’s the thing about bonds, connections… even if you try your hardest to sever them all, push people away first, it just magnetises you to them all the more.”

Go laughed. He tried not to sound bitter, but he did just a touch. He supposed that that was exactly what happened. He was pushed away by losing to Playmaker, by feeling unacknowledged by him, but that just made him go full throttle which in turn caused him to combust. But his laughter turned into a quiet smile.

“I realise this doesn’t change the past but its how I felt – and continue to feel.” Yusaku said. He glanced at Aoi. “I don’t want you to feel left out, I’m sorry and thankful for you as well.” He told her.

“It’s okay.” Aoi replied.

“So, what now?” Go asked. “I still have a lot of my work-out routine to get through, sure you two have to hurry on along. But we should catch some up some more.”

“Y-Yeah,” Yusaku stuttered out, words clogging in his throat only to turn into an awkward deluge, “but before you go, I formally propose that you should hug me.”

Go laughed again. Playmaker was cute. His stoicism truly did not come from cruelty but from a place of hurt and awkwardness. Knowing that, his memories of their duel and other encounters made more sense to him in this new frame of context. His laughter was full-bellied and strong; Yusaku’s mouth twitched and then, without seemingly no warning, Go obliged.

His arm flung up and then hooked around Yusaku with an energetic voracity. Go pulled Yusaku in close, to the crook of him and Aoi watched with a giggle. Yusaku stiffened as he had never been hugged quite so exuberantly before and Go grinned.

“To better futures and all that, eh?” Go reckoned.

Yusaku smiled as he put his hand on Go’s thick forearm, “Y-Yeah, something like that.” He said. “I’d really like to duel you again.”

“I’d like that as well – oh and, Blue Angel, you get in here too, don’t want you feeling left out, we never got our Charisma match after all.” Go bellowed in good nature.

“T-True, we never did.” Aoi agreed but she inclined to Go’s invitation.

She leaned in on Yusaku, almost skittish, and hugged him from his other side. She put her hands on his shoulder and nuzzled in. Yusaku breathed with difficulty in the lock of Go’s arm but it was as strangely nice as it was overbearing. He smiled with hopeful thoughts.

#hugsaku #hugsaku2021 #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #fujiki yusaku #aoi zaizen #onizuka go #writing tag #social interactionism #social interactionism 2021 #this is intended to be shippy but im not bothered enough to tag it as such since there's no ship name

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dorizardthewizard · 4 years

Text

The Revival of Akillian: Chapter 3

Prologue / Chapter 2 / Chapter 4

3. BAD ENCOUNTERS

Taking advantage of a brief return of the sun, D'jok, Thran and Micro-Ice decide to go play football on some flat ground that they have built on the edge of the city. They swept away the snow, drew lines on the shriveled grass with white paint, and constructed goal posts using tubes and poles salvaged from the ruins of the ancient capital. Ahito, Thran's brother, promised that he would join them after his little nap.

Along the way, D'jok kicks the ball that Thran brought, "improved" by himself, because Thran - a little taller than Micro-Ice, short brown hair, flat nose, black almond eyes on a round face - is very handy and fascinated by technology. When watching a Galactik Football match, the technical layout of the pitch interests him almost as much as the game on it. The ball bounces softly off D'jok's foot.

- I've made some improvements again, - Thran explains. - Now it calculates the speed of the ball, just like official Cup balls.

D’jok catches the ball and weighs it in his hands.

- Isn't it a bit heavy?

- It's because of the device inside. I'll have to find a way to alleviate it...

D'jok does a few tests again, head / foot, head / foot. That damn ball would almost give him a headache. Sitting in the grass at the edge of the stairs, Micro-Ice looks at him morosely. He stands up suddenly, and without a word, walks away up the stairs.

- What's wrong with him? - asks Thran.

- In trouble... as usual. - answers D’jok.

- Do you think we can help him?

- Not really.

- Yeah... the usual, then.

Not far away, sitting on another staircase in the middle of a tumble of rocks, Sinedd and his gang play GF-Cards, a game very popular with the fans of Galactik Football, which consists of pitting different players against each other by calculating their odds, strengths, shooting power, defensive or dribbling skills, etc. The cards themselves are the subject of collections and a successful trading market. Sinedd throws down his major asset: Warren.

- And ten! Oh, I won again! Guess I’m just too good.

Dark hair, purple eyes, thick eyebrows, a pointed nose in the middle of a thin triangular face with a determined chin, elegantly dressed (white pants with black legs, a leather jacket with padded shoulders and a high collar), Sinedd is handsome and he knows it. Many girls flock around him, which fills him with pride - worse: arrogance. He believes himself superior to everyone, and easily proves it in many areas: flirting, football... and GF-Cards. His disdainful haughtiness annoys more than one but fascinates others, like the three henchmen who constitute his gang, all devoted to their "leader".

- It's not fair, - nevertheless protests Billy, a tall, skinny blond. – You’ve won four times in a row!

- Sorry bud, it’s not my fault you suck.

With a triumphant smile, he slowly picks up the cards Billy lost.

In the meantime come Thran, D’jok and Micro-Ice - the latter stopping his friends with his outstretched arm.

- D’jok, do you see what I see?

What he sees are Sinedd's shoes, sticking out of the wide, white trouser-legged pants. Techno-Sizor 128... of course he wears the brand, the best of the best for champions like him.

Micro-Ice walks up to him with a smirk.

- Nice pumps! They must leave beautiful footprints...

Sinedd scrutinizes him, frowning.

- I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.

- Listen here, Sinedd! – Micro-Ice gets angry. - I know you stole the tickets from me!

- What tickets?

- Don't act all innocent! You came to my house and searched my room!

- Oh! - Sinedd smiles, winking at his friends. - If I understand correctly, was something stolen from you? How touching, Micro-Ice. Tell me when to cry!

- Hey, guys! He doesn't just have super kicks... he also has a beautiful brand-new Magnet-Board! - exclaims D'jok while standing on a rock, brandishing the machine in question: an ideal board for surfing on all terrains.

Billy and the others huddle together, ready to leap onto the rock - Sinedd stays where he is: he cherishes his Magnet-Board too much, and this nutcase D'jok might break it before his friends manage to reach it.

- Give it back to me now, you hear!

- Not until you've returned Micro-Ice’s tickets.

- You really can’t do anything without D'jok, eh! – sneers Sinedd at Micro-Ice between clenched teeth.

- That’s what friends are for, right?

The two glare defiantly at each other - Sinedd also faces Thran, rather unpleasantly. With four on three he would stand a chance of coming out on top in a fight, but D’jok still wields his Magnet-Board and Sinedd is as worried about losing it as he is of taking a bad hit. He gets another idea.

He winks again at his defensive gang, takes a step back and takes on an air of resignation.

- Okay, okay... fine, you win. I'll bring you the tickets tomorrow morning without fail in front of the Great Rift. (He turns to D'jok and points an accusatory finger at him.) And if there's a single scratch on my Board, I'll take care of you, D'jok!

- Whatever you say, Sinedd, - smiles the latter, the Magnet-Board under his arm.

Sinedd waves to his gang and goes down the stairs, grumbling:

- I'll get you, you bastard.

However, he has to admit that D’jok is stronger than him. Sinedd can round up all his friends tomorrow morning in front of the Great Rift, but D'jok and Micro-Ice may do the same. Sinedd doesn't really like to fight, it's not one of the areas where he is strongest. He prefers to take up his challenges with the ball, cards in hand, or even chatting in front of a hot chick. This meeting was not a very good idea, after all. He should just let Ballow and his goons take care of those brats... yeah, that's a lot better.

***

After having left the Magnet-Board at Thran’s place (safer than with Micro-Ice or D'jok, the cave of Maia being very famous) and waking up his brother Ahito, deeply asleep as usual, the four companions go to the Cafeteria, their favorite bar, to watch the Lightnings vs. Shadows game. They could watch it at either of their houses, but the Cafeteria has comfortable sofas, there is food and drink, and above all a giant screen that allows them to immerse themselves more in the game.

As soon as they make themselves comfortable on a sofa facing the screen, Ahito falls asleep. (Ahito looks a lot like his brother, he just has longer hair and, though we do not know why, ski goggles perpetually raised on his forehead.) Yet Thran woke him up a few minutes ago…

- He falls asleep so quickly, I’ll never understand it! - D'jok remarks.

- Yeah, - Thran added, - I've seen him fall asleep at the table, while still chewing, with his head on his plate.

- Too bad, he’ll miss everything...

Micro-Ice refers to the screen on which the Technoid logo appears, against a background of thunderous music.

- Well, you see, I’m not so sure about that. - smiles Thran.

Comments on Ahito's ailment - we can call it that, given the impressive number of hours he spends sleeping - cease, as the match begins.

It starts very strongly: the Shadows and Lightnings are roughly evenly matched, the Smog of the former rivals the power of the Charge of the latter, and each team has its star players: Fulmugus, with his magical dribbling, and Niilis are the gifted among the Shadows; the beautiful Sarlight and especially the great Warren for the Lightnings. The action is super-fast, to the point that it is difficult to follow the ball, which crosses the field like a bombshell, takes off in the air like a rocket, bounces against the magnetic grids surrounding the stadium at the speed of a pinball. It’s always followed or controlled by someone who dribbles, passes, shoots, headers, stops the ball in a bewildering somersault ten meters above the ground. The rival, with an acrobatic kickback, faces his opponent in a breath-taking aerial duel, in a fireworks display of black emanations of Smog and bluish flashes of Charge.

“Of course, it's a friendly match,” clarifies the commentator. “Of course, there are no stakes. Of course, no one has an interest in getting hurt! However, each team really has the will to prove to the other that it is already in full possession of its means, as the qualifying phases of the next Galactik Football Cup approach!”

- Hey, look! Warren has the ball! - cries Thran excitedly.

- Yeah, Warren! Go! Shoot! - shouts Micro-Ice.

Warren is of course everyone's idol. Next to his muscular two metres in height, Aarch would almost pass for a weakling. In his combination of shades of blue, his face also blue surrounded by a white beard, he imposes in front of the slender Fulmugus, all dressed in black, his long brown hair flying around him. However, both compete in virtuosity, Smog and Charge mixing in black and pale blue flashes. It's rare that one manages to stand out from the other, and the whole match revolves around the duel between these two titans of the GF. On-the-fly ball control, shots and counter-shots, dribbles, tackles and passes and returns - both invariably go neck and neck. But Warren's size and long strides give him a slight advantage, even though the Shadows' Smog allows them to “teleport” instantly. Taking advantage of a tiny error by Fulmugus, Warren manages to regain the ball and immediately rushes towards the opposing goal, followed by his two attackers and the Shadow defence. Warren dribbles past the two defenders, passes to Sarlight who remained slightly behind, which disorients the rear Shadows for a fraction of a second, enough for Sarlight to immediately pass back to Warren who shoots - without even aiming, it seems. The ball shoots overhead and sinks into the net, grazing the top bar - despite his lightning reflexes, the Shadow goalkeeper misses the ball by a hair. 1-0 for the Lightnings.

The whole stadium jumps up as one in a tremendous ovation. It's delirium also in the Cafeteria, where all the customers support Warren and the Lightnings against the dark Shadows. Thran, D'jok and Micro-Ice scream and jump on the couch, waking Ahito who also yells:

- Yeah! Go, Warren!

Whereupon he closes his eyes and begins to snore again.

- Did you see that shot? - rejoiced D'jok. - Right in the corner! He really is too good!

- Yeah, - Micro-Ice nods. - He's not human, that's all. Nobody comes close to him. No one!

- By my calculations, the ball hit the net at nearly 200 per hour, - says Thran, looking at a device he made. – Of course, it's an As-1000, the best of the best!

In the meantime, Gail, Micro-Ice's mother, arrives. Employed as a waitress in the Cafeteria, she is very dapper in her orange and red uniform, pushing an anti-gravity tray loaded with drinks and food.

- The SuperForms and the pizzas go to these gentlemen. - she says, putting the tray on the table.

- Whoa, awesome! Thank you, ma'am! – says Thran, licking his lips.

The enticing scent wakes Ahito, who echoes:

- Thank you, ma'am!

- Not me, thank the boss! Besides, I wonder why he likes you so much…

- Our charm, no doubt! - suggests Micro-Ice with a wink.

That makes everyone laugh, because the boss-cook of the Cafeteria is a Cyclops, as sensitive to the charm of Humans as they are to that of a toad.

- In any case, - resumed Gail, - I’m counting on you to behave. This job is not much, but I care about it!

- Don't worry mom, we'll be quiet, - promises Micro-Ice to his mother, who returns to the counter.

- You know us! - adds D'jok. She turns around and looks at them apprehensively.

- Well yes, precisely...

As the boys munch on their pizza - their eyes riveted on the screen where the match resumes - upstairs, near the large glass roof behind which a waterfall flows, Aarch and Clamp are also following the match, but only partly. Clamp had met up with Aarch to show him a gadget of his invention. He takes out of his pocket a sort of flattened sphere made of composite materials, fitted with a holographic projector at its top.

- It's a machine that allows you to study the head game. Look.

He turns on the device. A figure appears in the tiny holo field, using its head to bounce a sphere representing a ball. Normal at first, the movement quickly becomes jerky, then accelerates until it becomes a blurry haze of pixels. The appliance whistles and smells of hot circuits. Clamp turns it off when it starts to smoke.

- Yeah, well, ok... there may be two or three more settings to fine-tune, but overall, it works!

Aarch isn’t really paying attention to his friend's rough invention. With his elbows on his knees, he holds his head in his hands, sighing.

- And if I don’t belong here, after all? - he mumbles, discouraged. - It's been so long…

- You're not going to give up everything because of those cranky grumblers?

- Ah, I don't know... - Aarch sighs again.

- What about my machines? – worries Clamp.

- All you have to do is sell them to Technoid.

- Never! During all the years that I worked for them, they were never interested in my inventions!

- Adium is right, I suppose. - Aarch continues. - Akillian's Breath is completely gone.

- The two of us will bring it back! - promises Clamp with a hungry expression.

Aarch stands up and addresses his friend.

- We can't do anything at all, Clamp. We need players, and the ones I saw weren't really, how shall I put it...

While he searches for the words, the elevator of the Cafeteria, located not far from their table, opens on the fat Ballow, his two bodyguards and a third thief, bald and threatening. The four of them head straight for Aarch and Clamp.

- Are you Aarch? - demands Ballow.

- I guess so…

The mobster signals to his goons, who advance on Aarch and Clamp, brandishing tasers - these terrible electric batons which paralyze with every blow, and can even kill someone with a fragile heart.

From the top of the gallery-counter where he went to get new SuperForms, Micro-Ice sees them and turns pale.

- Hey! But what the...? - Clamp asks, straightening up.

The bald man swings his baton, which grazes him and shatters his glasses with sizzling lightning.

- Surely we can talk about this… - begins Aarch. In turn, he narrowly avoids another taser. - Okay, I guess that means no!

- Come on! - shouts Ballow. - Let’s get this over with!

Aarch jumps up and shoves the bald guy, but one of his henchmen hits him with a nasty taser in the kidneys. Aarch doubles over, paralyzed by the pain.

- Aarch! - Clamp rushes in but receives a punch to the stomach and collapses, knocking over the table.

The three goons are about to settle their score when D'jok appears at the foot of the stairs, Thran's ball under his arm.

- Excuse me, gentlemen, please! - he calls out to them. - Could you fight more quietly? That would be nice... you're preventing us from following the match!

In response, Ballow grabs the baton of one of his men and attempts to strike a blow at D’jok, who dodges easily.

- What do you think of this, kid? Is this quiet enough for you?

D'jok drops the ball, wedges it under his foot. Micro-Ice, who is observing him from the top of the gallery, guesses from his tense body what he’s about to do.

- D'jok, no! Don’t do it!

D'jok's foot shoots, the ball flies, hits the skull of the big bald man, who collapses. Its bounce brings it back to D'jok's legs, who wedges it back under his foot.

- Don't get involved in this, kid, if you know what’s good for you! - threatens Ballow, brandishing the taser.

In response, D'jok shoots again - the ball sinks into the stomach of the youngest henchman, who lets go of his baton and doubles over, wincing in pain. This time the ball is intercepted by Thran, who came down to lend a hand to his friend.

- Oops! Sorry, I was cleaning my ball and it just went off on its own. - D'jok quipped.

- Hey, did you see that D'jok? It works! 100 km/h! - Thran pointed to the dial integrated into the ball.

- And I was going easy on them! (D’jok Looks up at the gallery.) Micro-Ice, are you in? Micro-Ice!

Micro-Ice tries to hide behind the railing, but, unfortunately for him, it’s made of glass.

- Well! Micro-Ice! - sneers Ballow. - So, have you found my tickets?

- Uh, well, I'll have them tomorrow, sir! - Micro-Ice stammers.

- Don't worry about lying, kid, Sinedd gave them back to me. He also informed me that we would find you here... (Ballow again gestures to his men, who get up.) Come on! Get rid of these nuisances!

The sinister ones light their tasers again, moving towards D'jok and Thran.

- Ready? - calls D'jok.

- Ready! – answers Thran.

- Ready! - repeats Micro-Ice, running down the stairs.

Thran kicks off, passing to D’jok, who shoots, hitting the big bald man in the temple again. The ball bounces against the canopy and comes back to Micro-Ice's feet who shoots in turn, missing the youngster by a hair. The ball is caught by Aarch, who was recovering on the couch, then throws it up and hits Ballow. It bounces against a wall, is caught by Thran who shoots in a splendid turn - unfortunately in the wrong direction. The ball flies over the gallery, straight towards the counter and the shelves of glasses and bottles stowed behind – there are cries of fear from the audience – but is stopped at the last minute by Ahito, who has emerged from the sofa where he was sleeping the previous second. Ahito passes back to D'jok, who in turn performs a powerful return shot. The ball curls the heads of Ballow and his henchmen, bounces again against the canopy and knocks all four of them in a row, sweeping them away like bowling pins. The ball wisely ends its course under D'jok's foot.

Ballow is the first to stand up. His three henchmen hold their heads, grimacing. They struggle to stand up.

- We’ll meet again! - Ballow shouts as he scurries past D'jok.

- With pleasure.

The four thugs rush into the elevator, to the cheers of the customers, who applaud this beautiful football battle and its happy outcome.

Micro-Ice reaches out to Aarch and helps him up.

- I owe you one, kids! – smiles Aarch, still in shock, as much from this sporting feat as from the taser.

- No good, sir, - D'jok retorts. - It's just that we don't like to be disturbed during a game.

- You are gifted... how would you like to be part of a club?

- You're funny! - Micro-Ice answers. - Football on Akillian is dead. Without the Breath, we’re no match against the big guys!

He nods towards the screen where Warren and Fulmugus are still grappling, in an explosion of Smog and Charge.

- Well, aside from all that, - resumes D’jok, - we have a game to finish watching.

- Yes, yes, of course... I understand. Go for it. And may the best win!

- It will be Warren, sir! - says Thran.

They all go upstairs to get back together in front of the screen and their cold pizzas. Left alone, Aarch and Clamp exchange a look of connivance... maybe, Breath or no Breath, there are not only dummies left on Akillian.

***

It’s just half-time, when Gail takes the opportunity to stand in front of the screen and scold the four boys:

- I thought I told you not to cause any trouble!

- It's not our fault, ma'am, D’jok was justified. You saw!

- It's never your fault! Just like last time…

- Gail, we're thirsty! – came a call from the bar.

She sighs and returns to her counter. The shouting match is postponed...

Thran gazes proudly at Ahito, who for once has his eyes open, dreamily watching the advertisements parading onto the screen.

- Hey, brother, that was a nice save you made earlier. You see, you can do it if you want to!

- Do you think Aarch noticed that? It feels weird to see him for real, doesn't it?

- Aarch?? - cry his friends in unison.

- Yeah, what? - Ahito smiles. - The super big guy was Aarch, guys. Don't tell me you didn't recognize him?

Immediately, D’jok, Thran and Micro-Ice rush in pursuit of Aarch, who has left the Cafeteria. Taking the sofa for himself, Ahito lies down, just to take a nap during the adverts. So much action is tiring...

In Akillian's blue night, Aarch and Clamp quietly descend the staircase that leads to the city centre and their hotel.

- You see, Clamp, I feel that with your machines and my ideas, we're going to do great things.

- That’s what I’ve been telling you, Aarch!

#galactik football #the revival of akillian #might post some thoughts separately later

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cas-kingdom · 4 years

Text

A submission by @thorin-is-a-cuddler --- The Secret

A/N: The Tommy Shelby sister!reader treasure horde that is your tumblr has been my shelter from the ongoing surreal storm disaster that is the year 2020. I love your fanfictions so much that I wish I could become one of them myself. Instead of tricking biology and the internet into making that wish come true, I’ve spent my evening writing something for you in return. :)

word count: 2120

reader is the second youngest Shelby (age 17), setting is the first season bc I haven’t watched more than that :D

„Tommy?… Tommy!…“ You dropped the hand you had previously used to snap in front of your brother’s thoughtful expression, realizing it was useless. He was so deep in thought he didn’t even react to you gently pushing his arm. „Tommy, are you being serious right now?“

You raised a brow when you realized he hadn’t blinked just once during your attention-craving ordeal. He was seated at his table completely motionless, as if he were catatonic. The cigarette between his fingers was burning down all by itself. Drastic situations, drastic measures. You positioned your thumb underneath his fingers and flicked the cigarette out of his grip, sending it flying over the surface of his table. Ash was scattered over Tommy’s suit as he eventually blinked in confusion, looked down on his arm and started brushing off the dirt with a curse. „Fucking hell!!“ Still confused and sort of absent his gaze focused on you, a disapproving crease between his brows. „(Y/N), what the hell do you think you’re doing?“

„Me??“ You took a step back from the table, hands on hips. A feeling of worry about your brother mixed with the slight anger about his dismissive tone. „You’re one to talk big, sitting there like you’re sleeping with your eyes open. I could have stolen your books right out from underneath your nose.“

Tommy sighed and rubbed at his face with his hands, frustration evident on his features. Not with you, though, no, with himself. Frustration over you seeing him like that, over you being right about the stealing part. You tilted your head as the feelig of worry won over the anger you had felt riling up in your stomach. It appeared to you possible that you had accidentally said the truth. Tommy had been sleeping with his eyes wide open.

You watched him as he tried to regain some kind of control over himself, grabbing for the crystal bottle at the end of the table and pouring himself a glass of Scotch. Your eyes flickered from his hand to his face, trying to see through his ever-tough, ever-inaccessible Peaky Blinder mode. Tommy hadn’t always been this way.

Before the war, he had laughed more, had been more fun to fool around with. He had been more careless and less quiet than he was now. Day to day, he gave you more reason to worry about him now. Sometimes you caught yourself losing track of what he was saying during family meetings, because you were focusing too much on the tired, pale look on his face.

„So,“ Tommy said in his deep voice, blue eyes the color of water locking with your own, „what have you come to me for?“

You took a deep breath and straightened your back. You were wearing a smiliar outfit as he was, your black tie one of Arthur’s, your grey vest one of Tommy’s old ones. Your hair was falling long over your shoulders. „It’s actually not that important. Arthur wanted to know if he should fetch you some cigarettes. He’ll be off buying a bunch later. I’m supposed to tell him before.“ You took a chair and settled down on it on the other side of Tommy’s table.

It was hard to read in his face what he was thinking of that. His eyes stayed on your face intently.

„Until then, tell me.“ You put your elbows on your knees, leaning over the table, a little closer to him.

He cocked his head to the side slightly, fumbling around with his pocket to get out a cigarette. There was the slightest twitch in the corners of his lips, as he tiredly leaned forward to light the thing. „Tell you,“ he repeated calmly, fire glinting in front his lips, „tell you what, (Y/N)?“

You raised your eye-brows expectantly, a soft look on your face. „How ’bout you tell me why you sittin’ here like a corpse, starin’ your cigarette to death and freaking me out?“

The tiredness on his features intensified. He sighed quietly and drew on his cigarette, eyes darting around the room. „Was I, eh?“

You bit your bottom-lip and leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front your chest. „Tommy, you know I’m only asking this because I’m hella worried about you.“

At that, he actually frowned. Tommy Shelby fucking frowned. Rendered speechless, he slightly squinted his eyes at you. You rolled your eyes with a sigh and reached over the table to take a sip from his Scotch, before putting it back in front of him. „If this was your last glass of Scotch,“ you tried, wiping at your lips, „your last one ever. What would you say to me? What would you want to get off your chest?“

Tommy actually released a tiny smile at your antics, softness spreading on his face. He put out his cigarette and grabbed the glass, holding it high enough to let a few rays of late afternoon sunshine reflect in the brown liquid. „My last glass.“ He saluted to you and downed the contents in one go. You looked at him patiently, waiting for his next words. His smile got a tad bit wider. „I just finished my last glass and what I really want to tell you, (Y/N), is this.“ He folded his hands in front of him, elbows on the table, leaning in closer to you. He took a deep breath, locking his eyes on you. Then he waved his hand in a sign for you to come closer. „Come here. It’s a secret.“

Your first instinct was to scoff, show him the finger and leave, at best kick something on your way out. On a normal day you might have done it. Your brothers could be ruthless when it came to teasing you and you had grown pretty accustomed to it.

But this wasn’t a normal day. You had caught Tommy sleeping wide-eyed over his treasured books, looking like a ghost. And for once, you two were alone and could use the time, no interruptions to be feared since everyone else was busy.

So instead of acting like the seventeen years old sister who was used to her brothers’ tricks, the ten year old girl from your past took over, a glow in your eyes as you got out of your chair to lean over the table and listen to Tommy whispering a secret into your ear.

„Don’t hit me though.“ You couldn’t help but mumble warily as he waved for you to get closer and closer. You were delighted to see him shake his head with a huffed laugh at your words.

„No. You’re too old for that, I fear.“

You were close enough for him to headbutt you now, which was also not a very nice experience, but since that was usually Arthur’s way to mess with you, you didn’t expect Tommy to do it.

„No, I will tell you a secret.“ He added quietly and bent his body forward slightly, his face coming closer to your ear. You realized you were tensing up. Brothers would be brother. Was that a mischievous glint in his eyes? „The secret is,“ you instinctively moved your shoulder closer to your neck, as his breath went so close to your sensitive skin, „it’s that you’ll never be too old for this.“

Before you had the chance to realize what he was doing, his head shot forward and he blew a ticklish reaspberry on your neck, his left hand keeping your head close with gentle force. You squealed, literally squealed and tried to pull away immediately, hitting aimlessly in Tommy’s general direction. He held your head close well enough, making your neck explode with the tingly tune he was playing on it. „NONONO NOOHOHO!! TOMMY STOOOOP!!“ You screeched as he repeated the mean attack time and time again, only stopping to take a breath, before managing to hit an even more ticklish part of your neck. You couldn’t help the mad giggles that were pouring out of you and were very close to crumbling into a tiny ball on your side of the table, just out of his reach, so he changed tactics. „Oh no,“ he growled, „you stay right here.“

With what could be called a high-pitched squeal you were lifted off the ground as Tommy’s hands grabbed you under your arms which already set off all the ticklish alarms in that general area to pull you over the table right into his arms. He easily gained control over your flopping, hitting, flailing form with his strong hands, as you tried to twist out of his lap and escape your ticklish fate. With your back pressed against his chest, he wrapped his arms around your upperbody, one hand slipping into the space under your left arm as the other one was quick to meander down to your right side, squeezing ’til you were wheezing. You were laughing so hard, your cheeks were turning a dark shade of red. With your head thrown back against his shoulder you were cursing his name, barely able to spit out a coherent word. „T-TOMMY!! YOUHOU’LL GO TO HEHHEHHELL!!!“

His chuckles vibrated against your back, as he managed to lift your left arm a little, getting better access to the highly ticklish spot just underneath.

„That is true.“ He sounded delighted, as if he were actually enjoyig himself. You tried to escape with a sudden bolt and he easily pulled you right back into the danger zone, even more of that low laughter flowing out of him - short and yet so effective. Honestly, you would have suffered through worse ordeals to hear just one of these short laughs he breathed out when he was happy. Helplessly you continued to shake in his embrace as his fingers scooted over your stomach, following your reactions to make out the spots that needed special attention. That was until you madly held on to his fingers and tried your best to keep them at a distance from your body. „Plehehhease!“ You cackled, the effort it cost you to keep his fingers where they were audible in your squeaky voice. „Stahahp, Tommy. No more tickling!“

„No?“

„NohohOHO!!“ Panicked laughter escaped you when he almost freed his hands from your grip - it wasn’t like he couldn’t do just that, but he was resisting the urge. „PleheASE Tommy! Pleeease!“

Another short laugh rumbled through his chest and down your back, making you feel safe and happy and comfortable, despite your nerve endings being on edge after that tickle attack. „Alright. Alright. I’m through with you. For now.“

You slumped against him, when he peacefully put his arms around you again, this time for holding you close on his leg, not for better access to your ticklish spots. Both of your were silently smiling for a while, you catching your breath, him rocking you back and forth. Then you bit your lip and pinched the skin on one of his arms, making him pull that arm back with a playful hiss.

„Ow.“ He sounded almost reproachful there, making you bark out a laugh again.

„You got nerve going ow after what you just put me through!“ He ducked his head with a grin when you tried to hit him over the back of it. You crossed your arms over your chest with a huff and he interpreted that as his cue to wrap his arms back around you comfortably, smoothing your temper with his warmth. „What was that for anyway?“ You comortably lay back, wrapping yourself up more in his hug.

Tommy smiled gently, tiredly. You saw his eye-lids fluttering dangerously often. „You want to know the real secret, little sister?“

Intently you watched his face over your shoulder, trying not to move too much in Tommy’s lap to keep from jostling him out of his sleepy haze. Fondly you watched as he was slowly, but securely falling asleep on your shoulder.

„Tell me the secret.“ You whispered, moving a hand up to caress his head.

„Cheering you up is cheering me up.“ He answered as he closed his eyes and nuzzled your shoulder, head too heavy to hold up anymore. „And I can sleep best, when…“

You turned your head when he stopped speaking. His face was peaceful, his breath was going smoothly and his eyes were closed. He didn’t have to finish the sentence for you to know what he had meant to say.

You, too, slept best when someone you loved was close and content.

And if Arthur entered Tommy’s bureau an hour later to ask for you and found both his siblings entangled on the chair, peacefully sleeping, he never said so out loud to either of you.

CK’s notes: you are the sweetest. im so unbelievably happy my stories make you feel that way; i write them for the exact same feeling. thank you for this. <3

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trixcuomo · 4 years

Photo

I hate it when Tumblr stretches my images when I’m feeling lazy or not wanting to go back to the source art and so don’t wanna make ‘em the standard size but... despite me being stubborn, here’s the updated Trixany headshot!

And I added some contrast to the original on the right so you can see all the detail I put into this headshot as well. Lots of shadowplay and light, even texture. Both of these ladies are majorly beautiful! I love them.

Now to ramble on about makeup on darker skin and how that relates to art and in-game barbershop stuff...

Some Random Thoughts on Art & Makeup In Life for Darker Skin Tones

I’m not sure this is a thing but... One trick I use when coloring darker-skinned characters with makeup? I think about how skin color and makeup play together. At least when I put on my makeup in life, especially brighter colors, the lipstick doesn’t “blot-out” my skin color, do you know what I mean? I’m still brown underneath. Or, I would choose a color that matches with my skin and doesn’t stand out too much, like it’s day-glo or shouldn’t be there. So I adjusted Trixany’s lipstick a little so it flows well with the rest of her face. If you notice, the bottom lip has a little brown or gold tint to it. Of course, us Black people can pick any color we damn well like and wear it as bright as we want, and high quality lipsticks and eyeshadow, etc. may have very rich color so you can’t really tell what’s underneath. That’s the point of makeup anyway, to transform you. And then of course, some women (of all races) may use a trick where we put on concealer first so that the lip or eyeshadow color is even stronger when it’s applied. But I personally feel like a slight blending thing still happens since I’m a brown-skinned person, not a blank canvas.

And Hair, Too!

Actually, sometimes, the same might go for hair colors. Black women can wear whatever hair color or wig color that we want, of course. We should feel empowered to. But I’m sure that, at times, we might go with a color that includes brown or dark highlights that complements our faces really well, creates a beautiful complement with our skin tone and the fiery blonde dye/wig, for example. Speaking for myself at least, I went wig-shopping once for a pink wig and they had several options in the store. This was a beauty supply store that had hair care products and other items specifically for women of color. There was a pink wig but with lighter-colored roots that were more of a pale coffee color, one with very dark roots... this wig brand always had an array of root colors, whatever the wig color was. They knew how it is. (For lots of examples, peruse the Powder Room D wig website.) I remember being worried because they were out of the one that I felt would have complemented my skin tone perfectly and felt less jarring for me. Or, maybe it’s just personal taste. (I went home with the “wrong one” since it was the last one in the store and was worried about that, but I still ended up loving it. So hey, I could be wrong.) At least in my mind, one way makes me look like I’m going to a Halloween party and the other makes me look like this is my every day look, more casual? And actually, women of all races might feel that way... You know what I mean, wear a red wig the wrong way and you might end up looking like a circus clown, no matter what your race is! But I’m just one person. So, you know, my two cents. I thought about fiddling with Trixany’s roots, but they look completely fine! She looks like she woke up and was like ‘I’m owning this look today, I’ve got my bright green lipstick on, I don’t care what anyone says,’ so that works for me too! LOL

Makeup on Darker Blood Elf Skin Tones In-game

I will say, one thing that saddens me when choosing the darker Blood Elf skin-tone in Warcraft is that there is a Blood Elf face that uses gold lipgloss/lipstick (I’m obsessed, I looked very closely and was SO into it once I noticed a couple years ago) and I used to love the gold lip color and go with it all the time. But it really doesn’t show well at all, not even a hint of it, when I chose a darker skin tone for Trixany. To my taste, right now? The only colors that look nice are... well, the red one. The pink lipstick and the gold are practically impossible to really see on my character.

For the hair? For fun, and because I still wasn’t sure what to do, I decided to go with blonde hair for now so that it at least matched my Discord avatar which is a picture of Beyonce. But, again, I was a little uneasy about selecting the right shade of blonde. The Warcraft barbershop ain’t exactly my local Black beauty supply store, y’know what I’m sayin? And I don’t expect it to be. I just didn’t want to lose functionality/options I had before. There are a lot of Blood Elf blonde tones, actually so... eh, it works okay for now. It’s really fine, I guess.

I do truly appreciate them adding the other skin tones, that’s ground-breaking. But that is something I miss--changing Trixany’s ‘lipstick’ now and then and feeling really versatile with my hair options too.

Anyway, WOOO! Feels good to have more options <3

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superredcorp · 4 years

Text

SUPERCORP FANFIC

When Alex received a message from Kara which told her to "Come quick!! Emergency!!", she was ready for everything but this.

She had kicked down the door to Kara's appartement, two agents trailing behind her. All three of them had their weapons raised and were ready to shoot what- or whoever was causing trouble.

However they didn't encounter any villain, any attacker, any threat. They just came face to face with Kara who stared at them, wide eyed and with a dropped jaw. She stood in a mess of clothes scattered across the floor and was currently holding up one shirt to her body.

Which had been when the door suddenly broke down and she was startled into a shocked trance, gaping at the three guns pointed at her.

Those were now slowly lowered but still at the ready, just in case.

Alex's eyes shifted around hastily as she frowned. "Where's the attacker?"

"What attacker?", Kara asked, confused.

"Well, someone or something must have attacked you! You said it's an emergency!"

Kara blushed a deep shade of red. "Oh. That. Yeah, about that-"

Alex looked from her sister down to the pile of clothes and back to her sister. Her face hardened and she squinted her eyes. "Please don't tell me that the emergency is not knowing what to wear to your date with Lena this evening."

Kara just smiled sheepishly. Alex groaned. "Kara!"

"I'm sorry!", she exclaimed, high-pitched. "But this is a fashion disaster! I have literally nothing to wear!"

"She says as she's standing in almost the entire content of her closet.", Alex commented as she rolled her eyes. She shook her head and with a hand movement, she ordered the two DEO agents to leave.

She tested whether the door would still be able to close properly after having been kicked open and when she found that it did, with some slight difficulties, she closed it and turned back around.

"I swear to god, Kara, don't ever do this to me again.", Alex said, walking over to her and poking her sister in the side with her index finger, making Kara shriek and step a few steps back.

Then Alex crouched down to the pile of clothes on the floor. "Now, let's see what you have here."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Lena heard the knock on the door, she was sure it would be Nia and Kelly. She had texted them with the help of her phone's new software and asked them if they were willing to help her get ready for her date with Kara.

She had been a little embarrassed by the request and it wasn't like she didn't know how to do it herself, even with her loss of eyesight. But she wanted to look the absolute best for Kara. She wanted to make sure that everything fit perfectly with each other. And since matching colors wasn't exactly something that belonged to her abilities anymore, she'd need to depend on the help.

However when she opened the door, she wasn't greeted with the voices of Nia and Kelly. Instead she heard her brother's voice. "Well, hello there. I'd say it's nice to see you again but I guess that would be a little insensitive."

Lena clenched her jaw. All she wanted to do was slam the door right back into his face but she felt like she was frozen on the spot. Then she felt something brush against her, indicating that he had invited himself in. She groaned, closing the door and turning around into the rough direction where she assumed him to be.

'What do you want, Lex?"

"Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to pay you a visit?"

"No, not really.", she said, crossing her arms.

"Eh, it was worth the shot."

"Just get to it. Are you here to tell me you've discovered something to magically fix my eyesight? Oh, and the condition is that I help you kill Kara?"

"Sorry to disappoint but no. I've read your medical report. The damage is irreparable.", Lex said, almost nonchalantly as if he was discussing the weather. "And considering the most recent news, you wouldn't be willing to hurt Kara Danvers anyway. I must say your taste in love interests is rather disappointing."

How ever Lex had been able to figure that out. There hadn't been any stories or reports on her love life since her latest public statement where she denied dating Kara. Their kiss had only been two days ago and she hadn't been outside with her yet, so how he got the information that they were now indeed dating was a mystery.

"Well, I live to disappoint.", Lena said sarcastically but with a hint of bitterness. "Why are you here, Lex?"

"I'm here to offer you a job. At the DEO."

Lena hadn't expected that one. She raised an eyebrow. "And why the hell would I want that?"

"Oh, please. We both know you're not one to sit and lounge around. You want to do things. You want to constantly improve yourself. And you obviously can't do that at L-Corp now anymore. It's probably going to take years until it's back to the way it once was.", Lex exclaimed. "You may not be able to see but your brain is still perfectly intact, isn't it? And it's a smart one, too. You could be useful at the DEO, in the scientific field."

"You'd let a blind person into the DEO laboratories?"

"I'm certain that you are perfectly capable of working and not blowing anything up. Do you have the same faith in yourself?", Lex stated.

Lena frowned, confused by his words, not able to interpret whether he was truthful or not.

"The offer stands and doesn't expire. Just consider it.", Lex said and footsteps told Lena that he was walking towards her, towards the direction of the door.

That was it? He went out of his way to visit her and that was all he needed to say?

She felt him halting next to her as his shoulder brushed her's. There was silence between them for a while, then he quietly spoke again.

"You may not believe me but I really am sorry for what happened, Lena. For not being there."

Then he left and Lena swallowed. Her heart pounded quickly inside her chest. She was doubtful. She didn't want to, couldn't, believe that he was truthful, though his voice sounded sincere to her. But he was a good actor, he could easily be faking it and be following an ulterior motive.

She didn't have much more time to think about it though since just a few minutes later, there was another knock on the door and this time she was greeted by Nia and Kelly who were very excited to be helping her get ready for her date in a few hours which she had almost forgotten because of the emotional turmoil, Lex put her through.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When 7 p.m. rolled around, Kara nervously knocked. She was really going on a date. On a date with Lena, the woman of her dreams, her best friend and crush of several years - her girlfriend.

She still couldn't really wrap her head around it. She felt so incredibly lucky.

Kelly opened the door with a bright smile. "Hey, Kara. Lena's coming right up. Nia's just making some last adjustments on the make-up. She said it's absolutely necessary."

Kara smiled and nodded.

Then Lena finally stepped into the room, Nia's hand was placed on her arm as the younger woman guided her to where Kara was standing. Kara forgot how to breathe for a few seconds upon seeing Lena.

"Hi.", she brought out when Lena came to a halt in front of her.

"Hi.", Lena smiled.

She was wearing a dark blue suit, her hair was beautifully made. Her eyes were hidden behind a dark pair of sunglasses.

Kara was also wearing blue - a blue dress. Kelly and Alex had talked on the phone about their clothes so they could make sure they matched colorwise.

"Oh Rao.", Kara swallowed, unconsciouly adding in a whisper: "Zrhueiao."

Lena tilted her head in curiosity. "That's kryptonian, isn't it? What does that mean?"

"Oh, I- uhm. It means "beautiful". You look beautiful.", Kara stated. Then her eyes widened. "Not that you don't usually look beautiful. You're always so beautiful. It's just that- Oh Rao."

Lena chuckled at Kara's rambling. Though she had to admit to herself that hearing Kara speak kryptonian was really hot.

"Thank you.", she said quietly. "I- I'm sure you look great too."

Kara chewed on her lip, then shook her head and swallowed before asking: "Should we go?"

Lena nodded, raising her arm so that Kara could link in and guide her outside.

Kelly and Nia now made their way to the door too after having the watched the two with big smiles.

While passing them and throwing them a quick goodbye, there was a whispered "They're so adorable together" to be heard from Nia, making Kara and Lena blush.

When they were gone, the two of them left too - both incredibly excited.

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thehopefuldandelion · 4 years

Text

Not Him

part 2

part 1 is here on ao3. here on fanfiction.net

thanks to all who supported me in part 1 specifically @lovely-tothe-bone and @tindomrl

everlark.

I do not own any of these characters:)

***

A day later and I still hadn’t process the fact that just yesterday, Gale and his “intern”, Madge, were in my bed. Gale cheated on me. So what, maybe I had some erotic thoughts about Peeta. I hadn’t actually gone through with them. He’s my boss anyway. I can’t think like that.

Shaking that thought away, I focus on getting ready for the day. Another day ignoring Peeta, another day without Gale. I get dressed quickly in a pencil skirt and button up shirt with a black suit jacket. The more conservative today, the better.

The apartment seems, empty, without another soul here. The tv which used to drown out the blaring noise of honking cars is silent, no dents in the couch to be seen. I don’t have to cook breakfast for two people, instead just for me. One singular person. I suck in a breath and release it. In all honesty, the apartment might seem empty, lonely even, but I don’t miss Gale. As our relationship dwindled and tottered over the edge, we became more like roommates. I can’t even remember the last time he touched me romantically. Pass by pecks and simple questions with simple answers is the only interaction we really had near the end. No wonder he cheated on me.

I should probably be making a bigger deal out of this but I’m too exhausted to care. Gale seemed done with me so why should I still keep rekindling the tiny fire we had? I push all these thoughts that have haunted me since last night far back into my overwhelmed brain and hope that today goes smoothly.

Shit. There goes the milk spilling all over the floor. Yeah today is not gonna be smooth. I don’t have time for this. Shit. Shit. Shit. I hear the toaster pop! meaning the toast is done, burnt, of course. And as I spread butter a chunk slides down my freshly ironed shirt. Fuck. On my way to the bedroom, pretty much jogging, I bump my hip into the chair, hard, (that will leave a bruise) causing me to stub my toe on the door post.

“Aghhhhhhhhh,” I scream in pain and frustration.

I guess this is the world punishing me for some odd reason. Dang. I’m late. I mean I do need this job, but I won’t have to see Peeta anymore so it’s kinda a win-win. Not really, in the end it would be a hard loss and a joyful win. Stop thinking, Katniss. You need to get to work. Yikes. This day sucks.

***

“Good Morning, Katniss,” Peeta greets me while sipping a cup of coffee. Black.

“Hello, Peeta. How was your night?”

“Wonderful. Isn’t it such a lovely day?” He says looking straight at me. I noticed he didn’t even glance out the clear windows. “And how are you on this beautiful day?”

“Uh, it’s great...I’m great,”I respond while gritting my teeth. I can’t stand his kindness. He peered at me, his face in disbelief, turning his head slightly.

He almost scoffs and then says, “Ok, Katniss. Whatever you say.”

What is he? A psychopath? Telekinetic? Wouldn't be surprised.

“Oh, and Katniss? You have a stain on your shirt.”

Fuck.

Over the past week of working at this hell-hole, I observed Peeta giving me looks, unsettling but not in a vicious way. I almost want to relish in the tingling feeling they bring from head to toe. What is wrong with me. My brain and heart are sending two very different signals to my body. I need to throw all thoughts of Peeta in the sudden absent trashcan in my baffled brain. Can anyone find that missing trashcan?

“Katniss?” I hear someone call from behind me.

My chair swivels around and I see a jubilantly smiling Peeta fixated on me, or more particularly the stain. Ugh, that freakin stain. He pulls a hand from behind his back and I see he’s holding a shirt. I give him a befuddled look and he quickly stammers to explain what it’s for.

“Uh, I always have an extra button up with me and was wondering if...well if...if you wanted to wear it until tomorrow. I mean, obviously, you can change when you get home. You don’t actually have to wear it until tomorrow.” He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and blushes a deep shade of red. “So, if you’d be interested, I uh-”

I save him the embarrassment by grabbing the shirt out of his hands and running to the bathroom. He gives me a bewildered look and I almost want to laugh. But I don’t. Because I hate him. Right? Right. Lie. And me borrowing his shirt is just because I have no other option. Right. Lie.

Slowly unbuttoning my shirt, I imagine what this would feel like if it was a different situation with Peeta unbuttoning it for me. Oh god. A shoot of pleasure settles in my lower half. What is this man doing to me?

The white button up smells of dill and almost, if I’m not mistaken, cinnamon. The sweet smell wafts into my nose making me hungry. As expected, I am engulfed in the shirt, enveloping me in warmth and...love? That’s bizarre. I never associated Peeta and love. Those two never intermingled in my mind. With the shirt tucked into my skirt and having splashed frigid water on my face, I walk, no, speed-walk towards my desk.

Peeta pops his head out from his office and is about to say something when he looks at me. His mouth opens a few times but no words form. Ok then. “K...Katniss, uh, um, I, uh, can you-

The phone rings distracting me momentarily from his stammering.

“This is she.”

“Yes, he is here.”

“I’ll transfer you now.”

I turn to Peeta, seeing him still utterly flabbergasted, and say, “Katie’s Cakes on line 1, Mr. Mellark.”

Recovered, he answers, “Thank...Thanks, Katniss.” In a blink of an eye he is back in his office with the door safely closed.

I snort to myself and wonder where else the day will lead.

***

My head is throbbing. Countless phone calls and a trip to the coffee shop down the street later and its 6pm, and I’m still at work. Honestly, a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and Netflix are calling my name. Ugh, I can’t wait to go home. I should've brought some Advil. Mentally adding that reminder for next time.

A quick glance around the office assures me I’m the only one here. Hallelujah. I’m starving. Maybe there's something in the break room. As I open the fridge and bend down to reach some leftover cookies form a party, I hear a gasp and someone run out of the room. Huh. That’s odd. My head hurts and I’m hungry so I guess I’m hallucinating. Eh, it happens.

Oh my God. These cookies are heaven on earth. I moan as I take a bite. Another gasp. What the hell. It can't be me...can it? I start to investigate. My thought process is that if it is a demon or ghost, at least I can die and never have to come here again. The only lights on are from my cubicle and...wait that's weird, why are Peeta’s office lights on. Hmm.

As I turn the corner to get to his office, I bump into a something hard.

“Oof.”

“Are you ok, I’m so sorry Katniss.”

It takes me a second to regain my bearings. “Peeta? What the fuck?”

“Ah, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” he says with a slight blush on his cheeks. He then offers his hand for me to take and helps me up. I brush the dust from the ground of my skirt.

Ok, then.

“It’s fine Peeta. I’ll survive.”

“CanIbuyyoudinner?”

“What?”

“Uh, can I take you out?” he says.

“As a date?” I inquire him. There is no way in hell I would go on a date with Peeta Mellark. Right?

“Um,” he rubs the back of his neck, the blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears, then neck. “I guess. I was thinking more of an apology. For bumping into you, that is.”

“Ok,” I say slowly, reminding myself this is not a date. Yes, definitely not a date. “When?”

“Now?”

“Uh, um, sure. Yes, now is fine.” I say quickly trying to cover up my stammering.

I walk over to grab my purse and put on my jacket. “So where, were you thinking?”

“I have something in mind,” he tells me with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

***

We end up at a bakery about 2 miles outside of city limits. I was confused at first, until Peeta told me he grew up around here and worked at this bakery until taking over Mellark Enterprises from his dad. The bakery is small and homey, wood tables slightly worn down from years of use. The counters are stained, each stain telling a story. It seemed like a nice place to grow up, full of love and laughter, something I never understood.

Peeta lets me try a variety of pastries, all delicious and mouth watering.

“I actually own this bakery.” Peeta tells me.

“So that’s why we are in here safe and sound and not arrested for breaking and entering.” I tease him.

He laughs and looks me in the eyes. “I don’t come here often enough, being CEO of a company and all,” he says while stabbing his fork into a muffin. “It’s peaceful out here. Almost like, everyone has taken time to reflect on their lives and go about their days how they want too.”

“So, what I’m picking up on is you didn't want to be a CEO of a multi-million dollar company.”

“Honestly, no.” He breathes out. “I wanted to be a famous painter and if that didn't work out I’d just stay here, spending the rest of my days baking.”

“Makes, sense. Painter you say? Just how good are you?” I laugh.

Peeta shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not terrible.” One of his curls has fallen over his eyes and it takes all my restraint to not reach my hand over and brush it back.

Hours later we were still talking and laughing. I was having a great time.

“No, way. You actually said you were the doctor and flew around in the TARDIS. I can’t believe she considered that that was true.”

“Oh, yeah. She was mortified. Best blind date I’ve ever been on.”

“Well, I wouldn't have run off,” I blush.

“Good to know,” Peeta says in return, giving me a look of hope.

We both just peer at each other, lost in thoughts of our own. The silence isn't awkward per se, it’s almost satiated.

“Well, I should get home. I do have work after all.”

“Of course, Katniss. Thanks for joining me. I hope this evening was apology enough,” he says kindly.

“It will suffice,” I tease.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, almost sad to see me go.

“Tomorrow. Good Night, Peeta.”

“’Night, Katniss.”

I drive away feeling strange. Do I like my boss? More importantly, do I like Peeta Mellark?

***

After hanging up my coat and setting down my purse, I shimmy of my skirt, keeping Peeta’s button up on, I jump into bed and spread out like a starfish. This day is over. Finally. As my eyes become heavy and I drift off into a deep slumber, my phone pings!

From: Unknown 11:46

Hey Katniss, this is Peeta. I just wanted to know if you got home safe.

From: Katniss 11:47

Hi Peeta. I did thank you for your concern. Sleep Well.

From: Peeta Mellark 11:49

Sweet Dreams, Katniss.

I turn off my phone, not even considering what the message implies. It’s been a long day and the last thing I need to worry about is Peeta and I’s relationship.

I remembered to set my alarm last night, luckily, so I won't be late for work. I am still wearing Peeta’s button up. Slowly, but surely, I get out of bed, shower, and eat breakfast. I turn on the tv, because I need some distraction. Opening the window next to the fire exit, allows for some much needed air into the apartment. A familiar voice draws me out of my mental to do list for today.

Holy Shit.

Peeta is on tv. Why didn't I know about this? I’m his secretary for god’s sake. Caesar Flickerman who hosts Good Morning Panem is asking him questions about everything, from his favorite food to his love life.

“So, Peeta. What's it like being the CEO if such a profitable company?”

“Uh, it’s great. Hard work, but it’s good,” Peeta says with a somber look on his face. I think back to our conversations last night. He never asked to be CEO, but it was thrust upon him like a teacher giving homework.

“That’s awesome, Peeta.” Caesar leans back in his chair preparing to ask the next question. “Tell me, you were just added on “Forbes Top 10″ and given the title of “Panem’s Most Eligible Bachelor”. Anyone out there who catches your eye?”

Peeta has a slight hesitation in his voice before looking the camera in the eye and saying, “No, not really anyone at the moment.”

“Aw, c’mon Peeta. There must be one special someone. You can tell us.” Caesar inquires.

I see Peeta gulp nervously and blink a couple times. “Well, there is this one girl. I’ve loved her since forever, really.”

The audience, including Caesar, perk up at this. “Here’s what you do, buy her some flowers and chocolates and win her heart.”

“She’s not really that type of girl, plus I think she hates me.”

“Ah, well that's too bad,” Caesar shrugs. “Her loss. Am I right folks?”

The audience abounds in laughter and claps. Who is this mystery girl? I mean I hate Peeta, or used too, but it can't be me. Can it? Shaking those thoughts away, I turn off the tv, and grab my jacket and purse. Time to start the day.

***

Peeta’s office is still locked. I’m assuming he is still at Good Morning Panem. These past few days have been, strange. From breaking up with Gale, realizing I don't hate Peeta, and finding out he loves this mystery girl, I just don't know what to expect from this job anymore. My mind can’t process this abundance of, in a way, drama. Hey, I’m anti-social. What can I say?

Sticky notes with phone numbers and lists can be found on almost every surface of my workspace. I try to eliminate the countless number of them as the day drags on. No sign of Peeta. It’s boring without his tacky humor and clever remarks.

I decide to call Annie to get me out of this slump.

“Hey Katniss! What’s up?” Annie asks. “Peeta likes, no, loves someone and I think it's me. What do I do?” I say shakily, unsure of what to think of all these conflicting emotions.

I hear Annie giggle and then regain her composure. “Hi to you too. And I don’t know, Katniss. Just ask him on a date and if he says yes then he likes you.”

“But, every time I even consider doing something like that with him, I’m brought back to all the times in our childhood when he was just rude and infuriating.”

“Sounds to me that you might like him back, Katniss. You do know, that when a guy teases you it usually means he likes you. That could explain why he was how he was in middle school and high school,” Annie explains.

It makes sense, but I can’t justify that for his true feelings. The only way to figure this out is to confront him. Crap.

“You have a lot of thinking to do Everdeen. I’ll see you tomorrow for zen, yeah?”

“Yup, thanks Annie for the much needed clarification,” I say gratefully.

“Of course. Anytime, my friend. See ya.”

“Bye,” I hang up.

I go to the closest cafe for my lunch break, needing to get out of the office, and forgo an afternoon pick me up for a sandwich. It’s not as delicious as the sandwiches at Peeta’s bakery, but it does the job of filling my stomach. The bread isn't fresh and the meat was probably cut a week ago, then frozen, and don't even get me started- wait, when did I become a food connoisseur?

I throw away the trash and walk back to Mellark Enterprises, hit the elevator button for the 8th floor, and continue in my secretary duties. I see Peeta’s office door open and something compels me to talk to him.

“Hey, so I saw you on tv this morning,” I say to a slightly surprised Peeta.

“Uh, yeah,” There he goes rubbing the back of his neck again. “What did you think?”

“You did great, I mean, you always do,” he blushes at this. “Mystery girl, eh? Caesar Flickerman had to bite tooth and nail to get that out of you.”

“She’s something special, indeed. I don’t think she knows I like her,” At this, Peeta gives me puppy dog eyes.

Clearing my throat, I respond, “I was wondering if you were free, possibly tonight? There’s this movie that came out that I’ve been dying to see and wanted to go with a friend.”

“Yeah, I would love to, Katniss.”

“O-Ok cool,” I say as I shoot finger guns at him. Finger guns...really Katniss?

Flustered and slightly embarrassed, I leave the office and sit down at my desk.

***

We meet up at the theatre and head straight for concessions. My stomach grumbles at the savory smell of popcorn and melted butter, salty pretzels and bubbly soda.

“What do you like Peeta?” I ask him curiously.

“Oh, I myself love a classic bucket of buttered popcorn and M&Ms,” he says confidently.

“Mmm, sound delicious.”

“Do-Do you want to share Katniss?” Peeta inquires me nervously.

“It is a large bucket of popcorn; I don't think I could finish it on my own. Sure, we can share.” I have to remind myself this is not a date. I kinda wish it was though.

Before I even have a chance to get my credit card out, Peeta is already paying for our snacks.

“Peeta!” I scold while hitting his arm jokingly. “I should pay. I invited you, after all.”

“Too late, Katniss,” He says as he taps my nose.

We both look away nervously, embarrassed by our intimate actions.

About halfway through the movie, we stop passing the popcorn bucket and I feel drowsy. I wake up by someone softly calling my name.

“Katniss, Katniss. Time to wake up.”

Quickly, I realize my head is on Peeta’s shoulder and my arms are wrapped around his. How did that happen.

“I didn't want to wake you. Your slumber looked peaceful, sleeping beauty.”

“I’m so sorry, Peeta. I swear I didn't mean to fall asleep on your arm,” I apologize.

“It’s ok. You can fall asleep on me any time you need to,” He tells me smiling without a care in the world.

I gasp. “U-Uh, o-ok Peeta. Thank you for the offer.”

On our way out, I turn to him and give him a peck on the cheek. Then, like a cheetah, I dash to my car, leaving Peeta speechless. What is happening to me?!

***

3249 words later and this is the product. Hope you enjoyed!

#nothim #everlark #The Hunger Games #au #fic #thehopefuldandelion

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wordsmith-by-night · 5 years

Text

First Kiss

Attack on Titan One-Shot Characters: Hanji Zoe x F!OC Word Count: 2,191 Spoilers: Not really? Triggers: None I can think of The best place to sleep was always out in the grass, beneath a tree. Or so Shelley decided after a long overnight training. People used to think she was crazy for training at night. Titans weren’t active when the sun went down, but her other senses became better when the darkness crept in. She felt more confident with her gear because she honed her other senses. Of course, Hanji had seen her potential long ago and now Shelley was constantly trying to improve their gear. Another reason for nightly trainings.

“Eh, Hanji,” Levi broke the midday silence as he and the brown-haired section commander neared Shelley. “Wasn’t she sleeping under a table the other day?” Hanji followed the man’s gaze, unable to stop her slight laugh at the sight of Shelley sleeping in the partial shade. “It helps her sleep.” Most of the Scouts were known to have their quirks and rather large personalities, but Hanji found Shelley’s sleeping patterns curious. She couldn’t help but ask the cadet why she slept in random places—under trees, under tables, on the floor next to her bed, under a log fort. Shelley confessed it helped with her nightmares, with the memories of her first expeditions and watching so many of her friends get eaten by the titans. Levi let out a sigh and shook his head. He poked the sleeping woman with the tip of his boot, nudging her a few times until she stirred from her sleep. Her blue eyes stared back at the two before recognition struck. She scrambled to her feet. “C-Captain. Section commander,” she stuttered out, bringing a balled hand to her chest and the other to her back in a salute. “Sleeping on the job again, huh?” Hanji teased, a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. “What am I going to do with you?” Shelley stared at the other woman, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. Her mind registered the joke, but it failed to give her an adequate response. “I helped fix Jean’s gear, and did some training with Moblit,” she reported. “How is testing the new gear?” Levi asked. “Still waiting on a new part to keep the anchors from snapping,” she explained. “But I think the modifications to the original may work. I did some testing last night and it held. It limits the movement a little more than I like but…” she rolled her shoulders into a shrug, “It works.” Levi hummed with a small nod. Most of them used their gear in a similar fashion—straight forward, no frills, no tricks. But he and Mikasa tended to push theirs harder than others, because they could. They weren’t the best for nothing. Shelley, however, had her own style entirely. As a recruit, she nearly failed, until she tampered with her gear to make it more flexible. When it was discovered, instead of kicking her out, Hanji saw her worth and convinced Erwin to keep her on. He offered it to Shelley, with the warning that she would be a scout and, most likely, die. She blurted out yes so fast she almost questioned if she should have thought about it instead. But she was happy with the Scouts. And happy to be trusted by Hanji. “I can show you if you want,” she said. “That’s Hanji’s job,” Levi muttered. He started walking. “I have to check on the cleaning crew.” A grin spread across Hanji’s lips. She wrapped an arm around Shelley’s shoulders and pulled the other woman’s body close to hers, feeling the extra warmth the sun had given. “Looks like it’s just us,” she said with an oddly dark laugh. She turned them both around to head to the training ground. Shelley swore she could feel Hanji’s body shaking with excitement. “Has anyone else seen?” Shelley shook her head. “I don’t want people expecting them to work. Plus, the more work I do, the more temperamental they get. I don’t think these will do for mass use.” She didn’t notice the twinkle in her section commander’s eyes. “It’ll be our secret together!” Hanji exclaimed with all too much enthusiasm. “Ah. N-No. That’s…” “Aaaaah! I always knew I was your favorite! Wait until Moblit finds out! He’ll have to step it up to keep my attention.” Shelley couldn’t stop her giggle at the other woman’s excitement at some made up scenario. “I think he’ll be happy to have the break.” “What? No! He loves it. It’s his way of keeping control. ‘Hanji you’re working them too hard’. ‘Section commander, you’re being too loud’,” Hanji snickered. “What would he do if I behaved myself?” “Sleep,” Shelley joked. It only reminded her of how tired she was herself. After the fall of wall Maria, all of her nightmares resurfaced. If she wasn’t pushing her nightly trainings, she was tossing and turning in restless sleep despite her trick of finding a new sleeping spot. “Hey uh…” Hanji started; her tone more serious than usual. “You’re taking care of yourself, right?” Shelley looked to the woman as they entered the wooded training grounds and stopped walking. She nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she lied. Hanji kept her eyes locked onto the woman’s. Levi had the kind of look that alerted people he could see through them, and he would call it out, but Hanji’s was more subtle. She could see the light in those blue eyes dimmed by sleep deprivation, feel a new leanness to the woman’s body, and see how her face slimmed some. It made her worry, and not in the way she did for everyone else. Hanji wanted to protect the woman. She tried to play it off as if she just saw herself in Shelley, but if she decided to be honest, it was something more. But a section commander with a cadet? And one from her own squad nonetheless? That wouldn’t end well… Hanji pushed the thoughts away and forced a carefree smile as well. She clasped her hands behind her head and glanced over the training field. “Well,” she started. “Show me your progress.” Shelley nodded with a small smile perched on her lips. Training with her gear was true freedom. In battle, there were dangers to worry about, but in the trees of the training ground, it was just her and her gear. From the moment the anchors hooked into a tree and she was pulled from the ground by the metal reel, she felt carefree. The gear became an extension of her body. She could feel the weight of the gas and so it became intuitive when it grew too low. When the wind kicked in, she knew just how much to push the speed and how to use her muscles to counteract it. Her original gear kept her movements linear, but her modifications continued to loosen up that movement. It wasn’t cleared for battle yet, but she hoped soon. As did Levi and Hanji. Hanji assumed it would help with long-term titan captures, the most dangerous of all the missions. Then again, she wondered if anyone else would be able to use it. Shelley had a way with the gear, like a dancer in the air. It was a different sort of mastery than Mikasa or Levi had. And just watching brought a smile to Hanji’s lips. Shelley had completely forgotten about Hanji’s presence as she flipped off from the trunk of a tree. She fired the anchors, feeling the pull as the coils retracted once attached to their mark. Something didn’t feel right. It felt like a snag, a small catch in something. Her feet landed against the new trunk, facing the same tree she had just launched from. The snag hadn’t been there last night. She fired the anchors again, knowing it was time to reinspect the gear. She pushed off from the tree, pulled again by the coils. Instead of the snag she anticipated, she felt a sudden loss. Her body began to shift to the side. Eyes widening, she realized that the right-side wire snapped entirely. She retracted the other anchor but it was too late. It only took seconds for her to slam into the trunk at an awkward angle. Pain radiated through her side and chest, but the sharpest of it came from her hip. Hanji’s eyes widened when she realized what was going on. The ODM gears weren’t without problems to begin with, but modifying them only amplified the possibilities of failure. They all knew the danger. Her heart caught in her throat as she realized the free fall the other woman was caught in without her gear. Hanji’s body kicked into action, pushing her forward and closing the distance. Shelley’s body tensed in anticipation of the solid ground. She watched as the tree seemed to grow before her eyes, knowing she could roll over and watch the ground instead. But that seemed a more dreadful sight. She closed her eyes, bracing for the impact. Something warm wrapped around her. She landed on something much softer than she expected. Her hip screamed in pain, blocking out the sound of a grunt. She opened her eyes, still dazed by the lack of added pain, before realizing why it had been a softer landing. “Hanji!” she exclaimed. She scrambled off of the other woman, ignoring the objection from her hip. Hanji pushed herself up, gasping to catch her breath. “Are you okay?” Shelley asked, eying the other woman for signs of serious injury. Hanji nodded. “You need to go to the infirmary,” she countered. Shelley shook her head, though she knew it to be true. She feared a fractured hip—or worse—which would keep her bedridden for a while. She wanted to know what happened before that came to be. Trying not to wince, she went to remove her gear. “You hit the tree hard,” Hanji pointed out. She ignored her own soreness. Catching someone mid-air was much easier than on the ground; her right ankle was sprained for sure. Maybe that was the trademark of a true Scout—better in the air than on the ground. Shelley’s blue eyes met Hanji’s brown. “You do too,” she insisted, but her hands were already fumbling with a small tool kit she always kept with her. “But… I need to know,” she looked down at her gear, “what happened first.” Hanji watched the woman’s fingers nimbly start taking apart the gear. If there was one thing Hanji knew, it was passion. Everyone knew her for being too excited by titans, too dedicated to understanding them. But now, watching those hands so expertly tearing metal pieces apart, she just wanted to hold them. And seeing that same passionate determination in the other woman’s face that she herself knew too well made her want to break boundaries she knew she shouldn’t. “Ah…” Shelley muttered. She stared down at the culprit. One of the holding clips had worn. As it attempted to hold and release, it wore down the wire until it had snapped. An easy fix, but it meant waiting on parts. Maybe they’d be in by the time her hip healed… She went to pull out the cut metal when Hanji grabbed her hand. Shelley’s attention snapped to her commanding officer. The brunette stared at Shelley with a soft look. Shelley found her heart racing. “Ha-Hanji?” she asked. She wondered if the fall had hurt her more than they thought, but the back of her mind told her something else was happening. Hanji’s free hand went to Shelley’s cheek as she leaned closer. Their lives were too short to worry about boundaries. She pressed her lips to Shelley’s, being careful to not give into her usual excitement. Not only had the woman slammed full force into a tree, but Hanji really knew little about her… Shelley froze with the feeling of Hanji’s lips. Had she hit her head? This wasn’t allowed. Hanji was section commander, after all. Besides, Shelley came from a respectable family. She was expected to marry a good man—preferably from the interior. But then, she was also supposed to follow her sister’s footsteps and join the Military Police, not the degenerate Scouts, as her parents put it. Hanji broke the kiss. “Wait,” Shelley whispered. Hanji paused. Shelley stared at the other woman. Expectations be damned. A sadness formed at the thought of rejecting her commander, at ignoring the flutter in her heart whenever Hanji was excited for or proud of her. She shifted, ignoring her hip, and put her lips back to Hanji’s. Hanji returned the affection without hesitation. The worry of titans, the stress of their role for humanity, the fear of inevitable losses, all slipped away for just the few minutes of their kiss. “I’m glad Levi didn’t come,” Hanji said, grinning as she so often did. “He’ll know,” Shelley responded. Hanji frowned. “I’m sure he already knows. He reads you like a book.” Hanji pouted a moment before grinning again. “I guess it’s fair. I know his secret too.” Shelley watched Hanji. Hanji got to her feet, favoring her right ankle. “Now, let’s get you to the infirmary.”

#hanji zoë #commander hanji #hange zoë #hanji zoe #hanji x oc #hanji x fem oc #attack on titan oc #attack on titan imagine #aot #attack on titan #attack on titan one shot #hanji x female oc #oc one shot

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shastelly · 5 years

Text

Memories - March Klance Prompts from Monthly Klance Day 11

This is me, a few days behind now :)

"Oh my…Pidge! It should totally be illegal to be that cute!" Hunk gushed as the image of Pidge as a toddler gnawing on a calculator played across their mind meld.

"I know." Pidge grinned wickedly. "That was Matt's calculator."

"That was wonderful, now your turn Hunk." Allura directed. Replacing the little gremlin with giant eyes and plastic green glasses was a dark toned little man dressed in brightly floral swim trunks.

"Awww!" Lance cooed. "Hunk, it's so much better than your picture album."

Hunk had sprained his ankle early in the training session. He'd come down wrong dodging a hit from the gladiator. Coran had put some cream on it, wrapped it in something that looked like seaweed and said that by tomorrow morning it would be fine, but that he should elevate it and stay off it as much as possible. Shiro and Allura had decided that made for a perfect opportunity for some team bonding training.

Lance had whined about how boring that was and Allura had snapped at him to come up with something better. So, smiling like he'd planned it all along, he suggested that instead of forming Voltron in their minds over and over that they get to know each other better.

Shiro had nodded and told Allura he thought it was a good idea, that knowing more about each other would make them closer as a team. Hunk had smiled, Pidge had groaned, and Keith had frowned and crossed his arms. Allura had asked that since they were not forming Voltron, maybe she could join them for the exercise. Shiro had readily agreed. It was a great opportunity for Allura to understand more about her human paladins.

Allura had suggested that they each have a turn to pick a topic and then each share something. Shiro had let Lance go first since it was his idea. Lance had chosen an easy topic of share a happy memory.

Lance went first and they were immersed in the smells and sounds of his brother's wedding. There were so many people and tons of food and Lance was laughing and dancing and blushing from a kiss on the cheek from his new sister-in-law and then finally the memory faded with Lance dancing with his mother. Hunk gushed and Pidge called him a big sap.

Hunk had shown himself with his mom and aunt in the kitchen making dinner. His aunt put flour in his mom's hair and batter on Hunk's nose. Later Hunk had distracted his aunt while his mom snuck up and stuck an ice cube down her back. There was a lot of laughing and it was clear how happy they all were.

Pidge shared a family outing to a science museum. Her and Matt climbing some kind of dinosaur thing, which may or may not have been allowed, her hair standing on end holding a static generator of some kind, her dad happily explaining why the explanation on one of the plaques was wrong, and her mom brushing her hair out of her face as she fell asleep almost as soon as she was buckled into the car.

Keith had shared a memory of him and Shiro riding hover bikes across the desert. The wind whipping around them, both sailing off a cliff in perfect sync and jetting off across a plain as fast as they could go. Then they were eating pizza in a little restaurant and laughing about the day. Shiro had looked so pleased to be a part of Keith's happy memory.

Allura then shared on of her own. She was at a dance of some sort and there were hundreds of people in the castle. She looked lovely as always. She was walking around talking with people and smiling and seemed to be having a good time, when King Alfor surprised her and led her out on the dance floor, the memory faded with them spinning around dancing.

Shiro's memory was next. He was a small boy sitting on an older woman's lap. She was working on repotting a little tree. She guided Shiro's hands as they moved the tree and added handfuls of rich soil around it. Then together patted around the tree securing it in the pot. The smells of soil and the plants filled the memory.

Pidge picked next saying that little boy Shiro was so cute they needed to do baby pictures, which is where they found themselves now.

Shiro's baby memory was an even younger version of himself wearing a stained white t-shirt and a diaper. He was barefoot and toddling along behind a woman in a faded yellow dress.

"Shiro, is that your mom?" Keith asked.

"Yes, she loved to let me play outside. She said the fresh air would make me grow faster." He chuckled a little. "I'm not sure that she ever got used to how dirty I managed to get though."

"Eh, my mom said eating a little dirt never hurt anyone." Lance offered.

"Well, if you're the example we might have evidence to the contrary." Pidge teased.

"Please, my mud pies were delicious." Lance then shared his memory of himself covered head to toe in mud being dipped into a five-gallon bucket of water by his older sister.

Pidge about fell over laughing, "Of course, your first mud mask." Lance elbowed her. "Fine. Allura show us you. I bet you were a cuter baby than Lance." She elbowed Lance back.

"Oh, mabye not." Allura grinned. The image of a little girl covered in some sort of reddish-purple goo appeared. You couldn't even tell what color her hair was, but she was laughing and had the jar of whatever in her hands licking it with her tongue and smiling. "It took over a month for the berries to wash all the way out of my hair, it was stained pink. Mother thought she was going to have to cut it, she was so mad at me."

"I stand corrected." Pidge pushed her glasses up.

"Keith?" Shiro asked raising an eyebrow.

Keith blushed but the image came up anyway. A tiny little boy in diapers with a plastic firefighter’s hat on. His eyes were too big for his face and his skin was pale. In short, he was adorable.

"Oh, come on! Seriously, Keith do you have to be the best at everything. I mean, you just had to be the cutest baby." Lance huffed gesturing broadly at the image.

"I'm sorry?" Keith looked confused and the rest of them laugh.

"I'm not sure Keith can help this, Lance." Hunk laughed.

Lance crossed his arms and pouted.

"Who's next?" Shiro asked.

"I can go." Hunk offered. "How about favorite food?"

He pictured his mom serving him what a roll from a pan fresh out of the oven, the smell of coconut wafted through them all as she flipped it over onto a plate revealing the white coconut milk sauce.

"Panipopo," Hunk practically drooled.

"Good choice,” Lance also looked longingly at the roll.

"Okay, I can get behind this." Pidge grinned and showed her Dad pulling a pan of fresh peanut butter cookies out of the oven. She'd grabbed one and tossed it from hand to hand until it cooled enough to hold and then had taken a bite, holding her mouth open as it was still warm enough to burn.

Keith laughed, "If you want burn." His memory showed a huge pot of chili on a stove. There were several over men all getting bowlfuls. Keith stood on a stool stirring the pot, a wicked grin on his face and a can of hot peppers behind his back. At the first sound of distress he laughed and ran out of the door. He sat by a large red firetruck and opened the jar of hot peppers, pulling an orange one out he happily put it in his mouth and chewed enjoying every minute of the burning feeling.

"Keith, spicy is good, but it needs to have flavor too!" Lance admonished. His memory was of some kind of stew served from a large pot, he'd taken his bowl to a table and poured in almost half a bottle of Tabasco before taking a huge bite.

"Lance, we've talked about your Tabasco problem." Hunk shook his head sadly. Lance laughed.

"Shiro, what about you? Spicy? Sweet?" Lance asked.

"Um, neither, I have more of a junk food problem." Shiro's memory was a pizza parlor with a huge slice of pizza covered in more toppings than could be identified. He got sauce all down the front of his shirt when he bit into it. The sound of someone laughing filled the background.

"Okay, Allura, what's your favorite." Shiro smiled at her.

"Oh. Yembrem." She concentrated and the image was of a bowl of purple blobs wiggling around in a bowl.

"Are they moving?" Lance asked in horror.

"Oh yes, I loved the way they wiggled when you swallowed them." Allura giggled. "It tickles." Hunk turned a slight shade of green.

"Who's next?" Allura asked. "And this time pick something more specific. I want to see you work harder to pinpoint a memory with the devices."

"Why don't you pick one, Allura?" Shiro offered.

"No, go ahead Shiro." Allura offered. "Do humans have holidays or celebrations?"

"Sure, several, but we might not all celebrate the same ones." Shiro answered.

"We all have birthdays?" Pidge offered.

"Okay, a birthday." Shiro said.

"Make it more specific if you can?" Allura requested. "A specific year?"

"OH, how about 10, I got a new chef's coat that year." Hunk was saying as Shiro's eyes widened and he was shaking his head no, but it was too late. They all felt the sorrow hit them like they'd been punched in the gut.

"Keith?" Shiro asked concern pouring from his body.

The red paladin sat with hands clenched into fists and his eyes tightly closed. The image in their mind was of young Keith dressed in a black suit. His face was pale, and his eyes were wide and filled with unshed tears. People were walking by shaking his hand. There were flowers in the background. He was shaking. He looked back over his shoulder at the casket laid under a bed of roses. It was closed, but there was a large picture of his father in front of it. Keith threw the headband across the floor and ran out of the room.

"Fuck." Pidge wiped a tear.

"On his birthday?" Hunk asked horror on his face.

"The funeral was on his birthday; his father died a few days before." Shiro explained with a deep sigh.

Lance stood and slipped his head set off before turning to leave.

"Lance, where are you going?" Allura frowned, this was not the time to pick at the red paladin and Lance and Keith only seemed to do that to each other.

"This was my idea." He shrugged. "I just…I'm going to go find him." He walked away leaving Allura looking confused. The other three exchanged a wondering glance, but let it go as soon as Allura turned their way.

"Keith?" Lance knocked at the door. "Um, can I come in?" The door slid open, so Lance took that as an invite. Keith was sitting in the dark on his bed. "I just wanted to say I was sorry; this whole memory thing was my idea."

Keith didn't answer. Lance shifted nervously, "I…um…I…"

"Just sit down." Keith gestured, his voice sounding rough. "You're making me nervous standing there."

"Oh, okay." Lance sat next to Keith.

"Why'd you follow me?" Keith asked looking up finally. Lance could see the red puffiness around his eyes and knew he'd been crying.

"I felt bad and wanted to apologize." Lance signed. "I didn't mean for anyone to get upset or hurt."

"It's not your fault. It was an accident that it even came up." Keith shrugged. "And it's not like the memory isn't there anyway and that sure as hell isn't your fault."

"I know. I guess, I just wanted to check on you?" Lance offered.

"I'm here." Keith snarked.

"Okay, well, just one more thing." Lance turned and quickly wrapped his arms around Keith and pulled him into a hug. "I'm really sorry that happened to you." He whispered into Keith's hair and then he was up and out the door before Keith could even react.

Keith sat on the bed, his face flaming with a blush, feeling the warmth where Lance had been pressed against him and wondering what, if anything, that meant.

#monthlyklance #monthlyklance march 2019 #klance #voltron fanfic

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